Captain Moke's Quest Page ©2002. All Rights Reserved. TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER David Butler Segments are.....May 31st 2002 through August 15th 2003 Chapter One/First segment First Encounter It was another lazy, drizzly Sunday morning in Spring. I had the television tuned to one of the news channels and was half-listening while reading the Sunday Newspaper and eating my toast and drinking a cup of coffee. It was a peaceful sound, the gentle rain falling. I love these cool, rainy, lazy Sunday mornings. I get to sleep late and when I do get up I can lounge around in my pajamas and bathrobe until I get ready to shower. Later, if it clears up, I can get in a little gardening, maybe mow the lawn when I'm sure all the neighbors are awake. But no, the ground would be wet, so, no mowing today! Suddenly my peace was pierced by a man with a loud voice shouting, "Stop him! Stop him! Head him off! He escaped!" Sounds as if something's going on. It must be a criminal on the loose, I thought. Hmm. I don't remember hearing about it on the news. I went back to the funnies. Then I heard it again, louder this time, "Catch him! Don't let him get away! Head him off! He's dangerous! He escaped from the pen!" An escapee! A convict here in our quiet little neighborhood? Our tucked-away-in-obscurity neighborhood? Realizing that I had left the front door unlocked, I thought I'd better go over and lock it just in case he's going house to house looking for an easy target. I must say, It does sounds exciting. Nothing interesting ever happens in this neighborhood anyway. I'll just take a little peek outside and see what's going on. Slowly, I opened the front door. Nothing. Opening the door a little wider, I stuck my head out and looked around. SHWOOSH, something the size of a wild animal dashed between my legs like a tornado almost knocking me down. Oh my God! It's a monster. It must be one of those Tasmanian devils! It's got me! The monster saw me open my door and shot into my house like a grade 5 tornado! I'm doomed! I was too shaken to move! My knees were still quivering as I thought about saying my prayers and asking forgiveness for all my sins, when the man with the loud voice shouted, "Mister, is that your dog? I'll get him! That dog's going down!" I was still too numb to move. I just stood there dumbfounded. Then I felt something push my calves apart, I thought, this is it, and I didn't even get to finish my prayers. Oh Lord, please don't let me go to hell! If You get me through this alive, I'll never sin again as long as I live! I promise You, Lord, You won't be sorry! The little creature stuck his head between my legs and I thought he might go outside again on his own. My lips were shaking too much to pray. The man with the loud voice shouted again, "There he is! That dog is the bane of the neighborhood! Give him to me! That mutt has escaped for the last time! He's going to the dog pound and he'll never bother anyone again. I've been trying to catch him, now, for weeks, and now I finally got him. Here, Sir, I'll just take him off your hands." I looked back down at the little ragamuffin. He was cold and shivering and coated with mud and dirt. His coat was wet and matted with burrs. But he was smiling. He was looking up at me and I sensed that he was literally smiling at me and wagging his tail! Then to the dog catcher, I said, "Not so fast," What was I saying? I said to myself. The dog catcher shouted again, "Give me that dog! That's not your dog! I'm coming in there after him. He's a runaway. He escaped from the pen on my truck. Turn him over! Now!" I glanced back down at the little street urchin. He was still smiling and wagging his tail with such force, his whole body moved. So cocksure and so happy I had to smile in spite of myself. Now, if I live to be a hundred, I'll never know what made me say it, but before I realized what I was saying, the words were blurting from my mouth, "No." Had I gone mad? "What? What did you say? Did you say, ?No?'" the dog catcher was incredulous. "Look, Mister, you're interfering with an official Animal Control Officer on official business. If you don't give me that dog, I'm coming in there and catching him myself." "No." "No?" "No." Looking down at the wayward, helpless, dog-gondest, most mischievous, impish looking yet kindest looking face I've ever had the amazing good fortune to encounter, without looking back up, I found myself saying, "This is my dog. And before you can come into my house, do you have a warrant?" The man with the loud voice's face reddened right before my eyes. Then he turned purple. His eyes began to bulge from anger. "I want that dog!" He shouted. "This is my dog," I lied. Then I closed the door and leaned against it, still shaking. What is happening to me? Why did I do that? Why did I say that? What am I going to do with a runaway scamp of a dog that has probably lived his entire life foraging for himself and getting by on handouts? Sadly, I looked more closely at the little tramp, I could even see his bones protrudding under his terribly muddy, matted, wet coat. He was still shivering from the cold. I wonder what colors lie underneath all that mud and gunk. I could hear the dog catcher mumbling to himself as he walked away. "You ain't fooling me. I know that dog ain't yours. I'm going to be watching you, mister. I'll get him. It may take me a lifetime, but I'll get him. I don't give up that easy. You'll see. You don't know who you're messing with." I looked down and found myself gazing into the biggest brownest eyes of the muddiest, hungriest, most wretched looking, yet happiest, most grateful looking canine yearling I have ever seen in my life. And this was only the beginning. I took a towel down from the linen closet and started rubbing him down. He gave me angelkisses all over my face. "Want something to eat, boy?" His smile broadened and his tail wagged even more feverishly. "I don't have any puppy food." I looked in the refrigerator. Hmm, I thought. I know he would like some bacon and sausages. That's about all I have until I can get to the store. I looked at him again. "Since you're such a little ragamuffin, I think I'll call you Rags. Yeah, Rags. That's a good name for you." Still looking in the refrigerator, I could have sworn I heard a voice. "Hot dogs." "Who said that?" And then again, "Hot dogs. That's what I want. Hot dogs." "Who said that?" "Me. I'd like some hot dogs, please. Kosher." "Oh my God. I'm hearing voices now. I knew there was something wrong with me. I'm sorry now I laughed at that saying: If you think you're schizophrenic, you're not alone. "You're not schizophrenic either." Panic stricken, I grabbed my ears and blurted out loud, "Omigod! I AM POSSESSED! I AM POSSESSED!" To be continued... (above second segment) copyright 2002 2nd segment By David Butler "Oh calm down. You're not possessed," the voice inside my head continued. "Then what are you? Who are you? Oh, no! Now I'm talking to the voice. I have demons!" "You'll know all in good time, my man, all in good time," the voice said. "Demons! I should have known this would happen. I promised God that I would never sin again if He would only save me from the Tasmanian devil and it turned out to be this sweet little innocent, homeless puppy. And the Lord saved me and then practically in the same breath I turned around and lied to the dog catcher. I'm doomed! Doomed! Damned?" "Neither. Not yet anyway." I tried positive thinking. Aloud, I said, "Begone demon! Begone!" Then I wondered to myself whether "begone" was really a word. "Yes," the voice said, "begone is really a word, it's a past participle of gon ‘to go'." "You can read my mind! Begone, I say. Begone!" "Oh, please," the voice said, "give me a break." "Who... What are you?" "I'm a sweet little innocent puppy. Homeless no more." "Puppies can't talk. You're a demon. You must be possessed. We both must be possessed." "If you'll remember, I'm not talking. You are." "Yeah, I'm talking to a puppy, and the puppy's not even talking back. I'm mad! How does that saying go? ‘Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad." No, that's not how it goes. I'll look it up later when I've regained my sanity. "What about my hot dogs?" "You need a bath." "Uh oh. Don't use the "B" word." "You smell like a sewer. You're getting a bath." Hearing that he scampered into the living room and hid behind the couch. "Come out. I know you're back there." "No. No baths." "No bath, no hot dogs." "You don't have any anyway." "I'm going to the store." "When?" "After I give you a bath." "If I let you bathe me, you'll get me some hot dogs?" "Sure." "Kosher?" "Sure." He came creeping out from behind the sofa and I picked him up and headed for the bathroom. "Don't get soap in my eyes." After I bathed him and was toweling him off I could see just how undernourished he was. I could feel his bones. I watched him shiver and push into the towel. While I'm out I'll have to pick up some kind of flea treatment, I thought. He looked up at me almost as if he was embarrassed by his appearance. I felt a pang of sorrow as I realized what a brave image this vulnerable, wet, but brilliantly colored black and gold creature, whose only fault was trying to satisfy his innate wanderlust, was trying to project. Where had he been all this time? How could such an innocent little bag-of-bones wayfarer become the distinct object of so much vengeance and hatred from an overzealous dog catcher bent on his destruction. I took some more towels down and made a makeshift bed on the kitchen floor and placed him on it. "What's this?" He asked. "It's just until you dry off." "You don't have any blankets?" "It's just until you dry off," I repeated. "I'm hungry. You promised me hot dogs." "I'm leaving now." "Kosher." "I know." "Hurry!" On my way out I stopped at the bookcase and looked up the quote I misquoted. James Duport had said it back in the 1600's. Almost five hundred years ago: Whom God would destroy He first sends mad. I shrugged. I was close. 3rd segment David Butler Rags watched as Alaric closed the door behind him. He continued watching the door as he Listened to Alaric's footsteps leading to the garage. He heard the engine start and he heard the car backing out of the driveway and down the street to the supermarket. And still he watched the door. He had a premonition, a foreboding sense of danger. He wished Alaric had not left so soon. He wished Alaric would hurry back home. He started to go back into the kitchen to lie down on the towels Alaric had put there for him. Then he thought he heard something moving outside in the front yard. He glanced backward, WHOMP! Something hit the door. He scampered behind the couch where he could see the door. He saw the doorknob twist and jiggle, but it held fast. Thank God Alaric had locked it when he left. WHOMP! He heard it again. He backed up a little more behind the couch, but not so far that he couldn't keep his eye on what was going on. Then, for a long time, he heard nothing, only stillness. He lay his chin down on the floor between his paws. He did not dare move anything but his eyes. He watched the door. He knew that the thing, whatever it was, still there. Waiting...waiting and knowing. Knowing just as well as he that this was no simple dog catcher. He tried to send a telepathic message to Alaric to tell him to hurry back home, but all he was picking up was hamburger, lettuce, onion, tomatoes, kosher hot dogs. He must be reading his shopping list. Alaric's telepathic senses were underdeveloped. He couldn't pick up a bullhorn if it was blasting right outside his ear. But he would learn. In good time he'll be among the best. I'll teach him, thought Rags. He tried again. No luck. Alaric was concentrating on his shopping and whether or not he should get gas for the car or wait until tomorrow morning. Now Rags heard the thing outside the front bay window. His heart froze! He looked up and saw a pair of day-glo yellow eyes staring into the room. I don't think he can see through the sheers. ALARIC! COME HOME! COME HOME NOW! Alaric was standing in the checkout line at the supermarket. I forgot to get disinfectant for the kitchen sink. Oh well, I'll get it next time, he said to himself. He thought he heard a voice. It sounded like Rags. But no, it couldn't be. Rags was more than three miles away, and besides, dogs can't talk, can they? Oh yeah? Then why did you get kosher hot dogs? As he stood there talking to himself, he thought he heard it again. Forget about the disinfectant and the kosher hot dogs and the gas and come on home. Come home now. This time Alaric had a sense of foreboding. There was something wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He thought about going to the pet store to get a collar for Rags, but it would probably be better to wait until he could get an appointment with the veterinarian to make sure he had all his shots and then an appointment with the Animal Control Department to have him registered. But I suppose I could get him a collar and a leash before that. Maybe I'll take him with me when I go to the pet store. That way I can take him inside with me and he can help me pick out whichever one he thinks looks best on him. Still, there was that nagging sense of urgency to get back home now. Maybe the house is on fire. I'll have to have a doggie door installed so that Rags can get out in case of an emergency. "Sir? Sir? That'll be $102.45. Sir? How do you intend to pay?" "Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking. I'll pay with an ATM card." As Alaric punched his secret code into the electronic device, he noticed the lady in line behind him was a little more than annoyed. He smiled an apology and completed the transaction and pushed the shopping cart out the door and to the car. He could have sworn he heard Rags calling him. Rags closed his eyes and tried again, as hard as he could, ALARIC PLEASE COME HOME! I NEED YOU! PLEASE COME HOME NOW! Funny, Alaric thought, I don't remember telling Rags what my name Is. How would he know? It couldn't be Rags calling me; he doesn't even know my name. Then who? I'd better make an appointment to see a shrink. WHOMP! Something hit the glass in the front bay window. WHOMP! WHOMP! Harder this time. Rags saw the two yellow eyes staring directly at him through the sheers. He scampered from the couch and dove behind Alaric's recliner. The recliner was aligned catty-corner to the wall and there was enough room back there for a small puppy house. This time the force of something hitting the window was stronger, WHOMP! WHOMP! The glass gave a little, but still didn't break. Rags shuddered. He knew what this thing was. He knew. He curled up as tight as he could behind the recliner and pulled his tail up over his nose. And shuddered. He vowed he wouldn't move again until Alaric was home. I hope I didn't get Alaric in trouble. By now Alaric knew something was definitely wrong. He started driving as fast as he could. I hope the house is not on fire, he thought. As he got closer to the house the voice got louder. Maybe I'm close enough now that I can send a message back to the voice. "Rags, is anything wrong? Is the house on fire? What's going on? Are you okay?" Alaric heard the faintest whisper, "I fear the Greesehobbin..." 4th segment David Butler Alaric breathed a sigh of relief as he turned onto the street where he lived and saw that his house was still standing. As he pulled the car into the driveway, he thought he saw what looked to be a black shadow hovering over and engulfing the front bay window. How can there be a shadow on an overcast day? He started to get out of the car when the shadow turned around and gazed directly at him with unblinking yellow eyes. He felt a chill go down his spine. This was no joke. This thing, whatever it is, is distinctly evil. The shadow seemed to lack definite form or limits, no beginning, and no ending, almost like a black cloud or black smoke or a combination of both. Alaric shuddered. He wondered whether he should get out of the car or call the police on his cell phone. But if he called the police, what would he tell them? That a black, smoky shadow with yellow eyes was peeping in his front bay window? He sat there for a moment wondering what to do when he noticed the yellow eyes starting to fade. They may have faded, but they were still there, just out of sight. He could feel it. Whatever it was. Watching. Waiting and watching. Just barely out of sight. He heard the voice again, "Beware the Greesehobbin." What's a Greesehobbin? He started to pull the car into the garage, but thought better of it. He didn't want to be trapped inside the car inside the garage. Maybe I'll drive around for a while. "Alaric! Come Home! Then the voice stopped suddenly, as if interrupted. He looked back at the front bay window just in time to see a black puff and the shadow mysteriously disappear. But where did it go? Did it go inside the house? The glass was still intact. How could it go through the glass without breaking it? Is Rags okay? I must be imagining things. I have got to see a shrink. Crazy things like this only happen on weekends when there's no help available. Alaric got out of the car and began unloading the groceries. He tried balancing the bags of groceries under one arm and unlocking the door with his other hand. One of the bags tore open and the contents spilled out onto the front porch. Broken eggs and milk all over the floor. He heard THUMP!, THUMP on the other side of the door. Slowly he opened the door. BAM! he was hit squarely in the chest by a shrieking black shadow. "AAAIIIIGHH!" Alaric screamed and fell over backward. Before he could move, the thing pounced upon his face and held his head down. He pulled his hands up to his face to protect it and felt something rough and abrasive smearing something all over his face. He slowly opened his eyes, afraid of what he would see. It was Rags furiously jumping around his head and yelping and tugging at his hair and giving him tons of angelkisses. "RAGS! GET OFF ME!" "You did it, Alaric! You did it! You saved my life! You saved my life again. I'm never going to leave you! I love you! You're mine forever and ever!" "You little rascal, you nearly scared me to death. Here, now, get off me. You're getting puppy slobber all over me. Too bad you can't help me pick all this stuff up." I'm talking to demons again, he thought. Suddenly appearing very somber, Rags said, "I'm not the demon, Alaric." "What's wrong, boy?" Rags changed the subject, "What did you bring me, Alaric? You got my hot dogs?" Rags tore into the spilled groceries. What's this? Is this puppy chow? WOW! I got my own supper dish! And my own water dish! I don't see my hot dogs anywhere, though. First I get my hot dogs and then I'll eat the puppy chow. Those are the rules, Alaric. But you should know, Alaric, I'm not a puppy anymore. But I'll eat it anyway. Where are my treats? I have to have treats while we're watching TV later on tonight. Ah, here they are. Kosher! Just like you promised. Boy, I'm sure glad I adopted you. I really got me a fat cat this time!" "Who's fat?" "It's just a figure of speech." Rags asked Alaric if he would look outside the kitchen window to see if there was anything there. Alaric obliged. Rags said that he would like to avail himself of the virgin bushes in back yard if he was sure there was nothing lurking about. After all, he hadn't been outside since he showed up this morning and he didn't want to be under pressure when TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL comes on later this evening. Alaric looked up at the sky. It was no longer overcast and drizzly, but black and cold. The clouds had thickened to the point that they were almost black. The wind was cutting and icy and blowing his light jacket like he had nothing on. Unusual for it to be so cold this late in the spring. A winter storm is definitely on its way, he thought. A winter storm this late in spring. Strange. Very strange. "You'd better hurry up, Rags. It's fixing to pour!" Alaric watched as Rags watered all the shrubbery in the yard. Interesting how he doesn't lose his balance while holding one leg so high. He could hear the thunder in the distance and could see the lightening up over the horizon. When he had finished Rags scratched the ground with his back feet, shook, and trotted back up to the front porch where Alaric stood waiting. It started out as a light drizzle but within minutes was a full blown storm. The lightening and thunder was so loud it almost shook the house. Alaric and Rags scurried back into the house. Alaric sliced up a couple of hot dogs and put them in the microwave. He waited for a few minutes until the dogs had cooled down and put them in Rags' brand new puppy supper dish and leaned over to put it on the floor. Rags jumped up for the food and almost knocked it out of Alaric's hand. He watched as Rags swallowed the pieces whole. He was eating as if he had not eaten in weeks -- which he probably hadn't. Chew each bite a hundred times, he thought, but the puppy was already licking the dish. "Can I have some more, please?" As he stood there watching the puppy, Alaric felt his blood flowing warmer. He felt his heart melt and he felt a closeness unlike any other he's ever experienced. "No, not just yet. You'll get a little snack later on this evening. Alaric went into the bathroom and looked at himself critically in the mirror. He turned sideways and studied his physique. If I hold my breath and suck in my stomach, I don't look that fat. The rain was coming down in sheets, now, and the wind was approaching hurricane force. The house shook again from the thunder. They looked out the window. A bolt of lightening lit up the entire sky for a moment. It must have struck a transformer. The lights flickered a couple of times, then the house went dark. The next time lightening struck they both saw two distinct yellow eyes looking in through the big bay window. What kind of beast would be out in this storm? "You gon'na light a fire?" "You betcha!" Alaric already had some firewood inside the house. He bent over and got the fire started. Both man and dog settled down in front of the warm fireplace. Using only the light from the fire and the brief lightening strikes, Alaric found his way over to the other side of the living room to the highly polished antique black mahogany table. He found the brandy decanter and poured a little in a snifter. He went back to the recliner and sat down in the thick folds of the overstuffed chair, he looked down at Rags who was looking up at him. "Happy?" Rags smiled, "Scared. But yeah, happy." Alaric took a sip of his brandy. Outside the thunder clapped as if the sky was ripping itself apart. They both looked at the big bay window and wondered. Alaric had laid some blankets down beside the recliner. Rags inched a little closer to Alaric. Alaric smiled to himself. Bogey had said it best: This could be the start of a beautiful friendship. DIOGI COME HOME ......... SECOND CHAPTER......... David Butler 5th segment Alaric woke up to the doorbell ringing. Rags was in bed with him. So it hadn't been a dream (nightmare) at all. "There's someone at the door, Alaric." "What are you doing up here in my bed? I put your blankets on the floor." "I got cold. Besides, you don't need all this room for yourself. Why do you have such a big bed anyway?" Ignoring the question, Alaric got out of bed and slipped on his robe and slippers and toddled to the front room to answer the door. It was Frank and Phyllis, his neighbors across the street. He liked Phyllis and Frank. They had been friends of his parents since they first moved into this house. His mother was pregnant with him when they bought the house. They left it to him in their will. He was only ten years when their lives were brutally snatched away in a grinding, gruesome head-on auto collision. His grandmother and grandfather had taken care of him after that. His grandparents had made a point of keeping the house in his name and they never touched any part of his inheritance, saying that his parents would want him to use it for his education. And even then, when he started college, his grandparents refused to touch the money his parents left him, paying the entire tuition themselves and all subsequent and incidental costs out of their own pockets. Even now, Alaric wasn't sure exactly how much there was, preferring, instead, to continue to let his grandparents manage it for him. He still missed his parents, but he loved his grandmother and grandfather dearly. Their fiftieth anniversary was coming up this week and he promised them that he would spend a few days with them and take them to their favorite restaurant for dinner that night. Their golden anniversary. He wished they didn't live so far away. "I hate to bother you Alaric, but we could borrow a cup of sugar until I can get to the market?" "Sure, come on in. Want some coffee? It'll only take five minutes." "Oh no, thank you." Phyllis did all the talking, "I told Frank it was none of our business, but he insisted we come over ask you if everything was okay. And I said ‘We can't just go over there and meddle in Alaric's business, I'll ask him if we can borrow some sugar or something.' We heard such a commotion yesterday morning and then that storm last night, I thought the house was going to come down around our ears! My, I can't remember when I've witnessed such a storm, if ever. Frank said that he was sure it struck that old oak tree out in your front yard, but it seems to be all right." Then seeing Rags for the first time, "Well now isn't that just about the cutest little thing I ever did see!" Alaric turned to see Rags standing beside him. Patting Rags on his head, she said, "He's so soft. What's his name? Come over here boy and let Frank see you. Aren't you just about the prettiest little thing?" Then to Alaric, "You aren't feeding him enough, Alaric. Look, you can see his little bones sticking out. Why didn't you tell us you had a new puppy? Look here, Frank, isn't that the prettiest little puppy you ever did see?" Frank was a man of few words, preferring instead to let Phyllis do all the talking, which she loved to do. "Well, he is pretty, I'll grant him that, but have you forgotten our little Muffin? I think she might be just a tiny bit prettier." Frank winked at Alaric. "Oh, Frank, I'm not talking about Muffin. There's no comparison. Muffin is a poodle." Then to Alaric, Frank can be such a deadpan at times. Sometimes I wonder how he ever got to be so old without getting run over by a steam roller! Where did you get him, Alaric?" "Well, it's kind of a long story. You see...," Alaric was interrupted by Frank, "Come on, Honey, let's go on back to the house and leave Alaric alone. He hasn't even had his coffee yet." "Oh, that's okay. I'm leaving this afternoon for Gramma's and Grampa's if I get everything done. It's their golden anniversary." "You already got your plane tickets?" "No. I'm driving. I've got to take Rags to the vet for a quick examination and have him get his shots and I want to take him to the pet store for a few things. He needs a collar and tags." "What time are you pulling out? You driving straight through? Or are you going to stop and rest? That's a long drive." "I'm hoping to leave around 3 or 3:30. I still have to pack the truck." "Well, say hi to Bill and Alma for us." "Sure will." "I'm not taking any shots! What are shots anyway?" "You have to take shots. Everybody has to take shots." "Not me. And I'm prettier than a poodle any old day." "Of course you are." "Really? You really think so?" Rags took to Nurse Janice right off. She gave him doggie cookies and scratched him behind his ears and held his chin in her hands and talked sweetly to him and she even gave him a kiss on his forehead. Before he knew what was going on, the doctor had drawn blood and given him all his shots. "For $35 more," the doctor said, "I can implant a microchip between his shoulders, in case he gets lost, the officers would only have to scan the microchip and call the number in to a nationwide data base. The number is kept on file there with an address and phone number." "Sure. Why not?" On the way out, Nurse Janice gave him a brand new red leash and a peck on his forehead. "Bye Handsome!" She said. "Did you hear that? Nurse Janice called me ‘Handsome!'" "Don't let it go to your head." "Alaric steered the SUV into the pet shop parking lot. "Can I go in there with you, Alaric?" "Of course. But you'll have to ride in the cart." "This is embarrassing," he said, jumping into the cart from the back of the SUV. "Do you want to stay in the truck?" "No." Rags picked out a black collar made of rolled brushed leather. He insisted on having gold plated tags from the vendor in the store. He picked out his own bed and another one for the truck so he could relax while they were on their trip. It didn't take long to pack up the truck. Alaric already had everything ready to go. "Don't forget the cooler. If we're going across that desert, I want to be sure and have enough water." Alaric went through the house one last time checking to make sure everything was off. He felt secure knowing that Frank and Phyllis would be keeping an eye on the house while they were gone. He locked the door and walked to the car. Alaric put the back seats down so that Rags could stretch out on his bed. "Did you remember to pack my treats?" It was the first time in his short life that Rags was truly happy. Rags just couldn't keep his tail still. As they drove out the driveway and turned down the street, Alaric didn't see the dogcatcher and a police squad car turn the corner onto their street and pulled into the driveway. Rags didn't say anything, but while Alaric was busy putting a CD into the player, he noticed the large handwritten signs posted on all the neighborhood utility poles: LOST! BLACK AND GOLD SHEPHERD/ROTTWEILER ANSWERS TO THE NAME OF DIOGI REWARD! REWARD! REWARD! REWARD! CALL 555-9292 Rags looked again out the back window. He watched the police officers and dog catcher banging on their front door with nightsticks. His tail stopped wagging. His heart sank. I hope I haven't put Alaric's life in peril, he thought. He glanced over at Alaric. Alaric was so innocent. There's so much he has to be told. Sooner or later I've got to tell him what he's getting himself into. But not yet, he's not ready. He stepped up on the console and reached between the front seats and gave Alaric an angelkiss in his ear. "That tickles." 6th seg,emt David Butler Alaric had hoped to make it out of the Los Angeles area before 4 PM. He had stopped just a block away from the house to get gas and didn't notice the dog catcher and the police pass right by them while they were in the station. Rags noticed, though, but he didn't say a word. They were late getting on the Interstate, but that was okay by Alaric; he preferred crossing the desert at night, as long as he could stop at a hotel sometime after midnight and get some sleep. They picked up the I-15 in San Bernardino and the I-40 at Barstow. Maybe we'll spend the night in Needles or, if we're lucky, Kingman. The desert heat always surprised him after leaving the coolness of the Los Angeles basin. This time, though, it was so intense, it struck both of them like a blast furnace, almost taking their breaths away. "Turn the air on, it's hot." "Pull your head inside first." This was Rags' first experience outside the Los Angeles area and he was very excited. "What's this place called?" "The Mojave Desert." "Why are you pulling over? This is a rest area. You got to go again? I thought you went when we got gas back there." "No. I've got something special for you, but as long as we are here, do you want me to take you for a short walk?" "Sure, why not. What do you have for me? A treat? A cookie?" "A harness. A harness with a safety belt specially made for puppies just like you." "I don't need a safety belt, besides, I'm no longer a puppy. I like this harness though, can I wear it even when I'm not in the car?" "Sure, but you must always wear it when you're in the car. Here, I fixed it so you can still reach me, but if anything happens, you won't be tossed around." "I believe it's suppertime. Did you remember to pack my kosher hot dogs?" "You ate ‘em all up." "Unh unh." "You ate all the ones that weren't frozen." "Well, that's a fine ‘how do you do.' What am I suppose to eat now?" "Keep your eye out for a ‘Velvet Creme.'" "We get ice cream for supper?" he asked, delightedly. "No. Hamburgers." "I get a hamburger too?" "You get just the patty." "I want two. With cheese." Alaric got back into the car and pulled back onto the road. After an hour or so, Rags asked, "What's a brassiere?" "An undergarment a woman wears to support her breasts. Why?" "I just saw a billboard back there for the Velvet Creme. It said that there was a Velvet Creme 35 miles away. It said it had a brassiere." Alaric smiled. "It said brazier, not brassiere." "What's a brazier?" "A fancy word for grill." "Look," said Alaric, changing the subject. "I want you to experience this. Look at the desert. Isn't it beautiful?. He studied the picturesque landscape of Southeast California. It was twilight, now, and the sun had already set behind them, but there was still enough light to see. Alaric switched on the headlights. How many millions of people, not at all unlike themselves, have crossed this way? How many souls rushing to get from one aim to another, never knowing or caring what untold treasures lay all around them, totally oblivious to the breathtaking panorama of the majesty of this magnificent land? How many lost opportunities? How many unhappy spirits still haunt the place? Certain special individuals are endowed with the ability to tap into the psyche of others. Some call this ability telepathy. Others call it the handiwork of the foes of God. Most of these individuals are themselves unaware that they possess these powers. A minority of them, however, have fine-tuned this art to the point of near-perfect spiritual connection. Still others, without realizing it, become the unwilling instruments of unseen ignominious forces. These dark forces, for whatever reasons, are manifested and more readily perceived in the deserts and in the forests of the Southwestern United States. Gazing out over the endless vistas, Alaric thought, it is forever, this desert. And although he couldn't see them, he could feel the roiling strength of these forces. A rabbit jumped over his grave. He stepped on the gas. The big SUV surged forward slicing its way through the evening dusk. It was surreal, this place, especially at twilight. New Mexico's motto, "Land of Enchantment," could just as easily apply to the entire Southwestern United States. From Death Valley to the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest, to the Grand Canyon and Carlsbad Caverns. And Roswell. This was, and always has been, a place of spectacular splendor and mystery, a land of vast riches, secret passions, forbidden loves, lost souls and overwhelming sorrows, of boundless, untapped power, an unforgettable place of mighty battles, of great victories and bloody defeats, a mystical place of superstition, shamanism, sorcery, and magic. All this and more lay in store for Rags and Alaric as they embarked on a journey that would forever link their lives and by that means inevitably sealing their fates. At first he thought it was just his imagination, maybe a reflection from the car lights behind him. He glanced in his rearview mirror, but there were no other vehicles in sight behind him or in front of him. He had heard stories of the desert and how the heat and the sun could play tricks on the mind, and lately his mind had turned into a regular jokester. It could have been the diffused light from the sky or the refracted light on the earth's atmosphere after the sun had set. It could be that he was just getting tired from driving so much. But whatever it was, he immediately knew that what he saw was not something he would want to encounter mano a mano. This, whatever it was, was not good. The first time he saw it, it was about two miles down the road. Something he could not name, something ethereal, black, transparent, without definite form. It had no discernible legs or arms, no extremities. It was about six feet long and about four feet tall. As the big car got closer, Alaric saw that it was just hovering there directly in his path.. He flashed his headlights. The creature didn't move. He changed lanes. So did the creature. As the car approached he could see that it was no recognizable animal. He blew his horn, but the thing did not move. Alaric changed lanes again. So did the creature, positioning itself directly in front of the speeding car. "Oh my God! Get out of the way! MOVE!" Alaric slammed on brakes and lay on the horn. The wheels of the SUV froze and the tires screeched and the car horn screamed as his hands remained locked around the steering wheel in a death grip. He tried to steer the vehicle away from the creature, but it skidded off the highway. In that split second, his mind flashed like a strobe light with thoughts of important moments in his life. He thought of the day the school principal called him out of class. He knew the moment he saw her that his parents had been killed in a car crash and that his grandparents had come to pick him up. He thought of Rags and his responsibility for him and he worried that if he were killed, what would Rags do? He would be left without anyone to take care of him. But if Rags were hurt, it would be his fault. How could he ever forgive himself knowing that this innocent puppy, who had come to depend so completely on him, had had his life suddenly snuffed out by a crazy person. He saw a billion moments in the space of a fraction of a second. The big SUV careened off the highway on two wheels. It bounced and screeched and shrieked as it hit the ditch, going over to the other side. It flip-flopped first on two wheels, then the other two, but Alaric somehow managed to keep it from rolling over. He tried to steer the still-screaming car back onto the highway, but the vehicle would not respond. He tried aiming it at a Joshua tree to slow it down but the ditch was too steep and the car almost flipped over. The car hit the Joshua tree with such a force, it broke the tree off at the ground. It finally came to rest against a sand knoll on the two left wheels. Alaric thought it was going to flip all the way over. He held his breath. He didn't move. Rags was dangling in his harness from the floor of the car. After what seemed an eternity, the big SUV groaned and creaked and flopped back to the earth with a horrendous crash. Alaric sat there for a moment, stunned, then he realized that he was still blowing the car horn. He thanked God. He looked back at Rags. Rags seemed to be okay, but he wasn't moving. His eyes were open, but unblinking. He just sat there staring out the back window. "Are you okay, Rags?" Rags didn't answer. "Rags? Rags?" Rags looked at Alaric for a moment, but he didn't say a word. Then he looked back at the highway. He just sat there staring out at the desert, which was black now. As black as the night. "Rags? Come on, boy, talk to me. Are you all right?" Alaric wondered what he was thinking. "Come on boy," he repeated, "talk to me." Rags looked at Alaric again, and with an unsteady voice, he whispered, "I fear the Greesehobbin." CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST By David Butler July 5th 2002 7th Segment Alaric and Rags didn't even make an attempt to get out of the car at first; they just sat there trying to regain their composure and staring into the night. It was dark, now, and the only thing visible was the glow of the headlights on the Interstate. "You saw it, too, didn't you, Rags?" Rags didn't answer. Well, we can't stay here all night, boy, Alaric thought, I'd better see if I can find the flashlight. "Before we get out, why don't you see if the engine will start. What's that hissing noise?" "Steam. Apparently the radiator is busted. I smell gas, too. I hope the gas tank isn't punctured. If it is, the whole thing could blow us to Kingdom Come." Rags said, "Let me out before you try starting the engine, okay?" "Okay, fine buddy-of-mine," Alaric said, feigning sarcasm. "Where's the flashlight?" Rags asked. "In the duffle bag." "Where's the duffle bag?" "Who knows?" "I'll find the duffle bag and you see if you can find the cell phone and call for help. But first we should at least try to start this thing; we might be able to get it back up on the highway ourselves. But first get me out of this strait jacket." Alaric freed Rags from his safety belt. "Okay," he said, I'll try the ignition now. Are you ready to get out?" "By my self? I'm not going out there by my self!" Rags said, horrified, deliberately separating the words "by" and "self." Alaric smiled. He turned on the dome light and found a small flashlight in the console. He got out of the car and opened up the back and found the duffle bag. He fished out the larger flashlight and walked around the car shining the light on the broken vehicle. It surprised him at the amount of damage he saw. The vehicle was twisted and gnarled as if it had been picked up by a tornado and dropped a thousand feet. "Be careful, Alaric," Rags admonished. The hood of the car was buckled all the way back to the windshield. The front grill and the radiator had been shoved back into the engine. "It's a wonder," he said aloud, "the engine didn't come through the fire wall and kill us both." The front wheels were turned so far to the left that one of the tires had wedged itself inside the tire well and the other one had blown itself into shreds. It was clear that the front axle was broken. At first he thought the rear wheels were still intact, but on closer inspection, he saw that one of them had been punctured and the other one was turned impossibly outward. The passenger side of the car looked as if it had smashed against something and probably had. Both the doors on the passenger side had caved in and could not be opened. Rags never took his eyes off Alaric, watching his every move. "How does it look?" "It doesn't look good, Rags. It's a wonder we weren't killed." Alaric got back in the car and started to make a call on the cell phone. "Rags, he said, "sooner or later you're going to have to explain to me what's going on!" It was more of a demand than a question. "I want to know, Rags, and I want to know now! What in God's name is going on?" Rags didn't say anything for a long moment. He just sat there looking into the darkness. At last, with a sense of resignation, he said, "Nothing, Alaric, nothing — in God's name — is going on. "You've got to tell me, Rags. I have to know what's going on now. Who or what is this Greesehobbin?" "Trust me, Alaric, when the time is right you'll know. You are not ready yet. For me to tell you now would put your life in peril. The Spanish Inquisition would seem like a boy scout picnic in comparison. Why me, Lord? Alaric thought. Rags answered, "You were chosen, Alaric. I cannot tell you right now, how, or why, or by whom, but you were chosen. One thing I can tell you, however, you do have free will, and it is not too late for you to be "unchosen." But before you do, make sure you know that that's what you want, for once you make a definite decision, under no circumstances can you can change it. Your decision — whichever way you choose — is irrevocable. It is an irreversible commitment. It is your Rubicon." Alaric didn't realize that Rags had answered a question that was never audibly verbalized. "What would happen to you, Rags, if I were to become "unchosen?" "That, my friend, is something even I don't know." "Well, I'll tell you one thing, young feller, when we do get out of this — and we will — you and I are going to have a little tête-à-tête." "I'm sorry, Alaric. I've made you angry. If you want me to leave, would you at least let me ride with you until we get out of the desert?" "I'm not mad at you, Rags. And no, I don't want you to leave. I think I'm going crazy. I know dogs can't talk, yet you talk to me and I talk to you. And in many respects you're like an innocent puppy and at other times you seem to have the wisdom of Solomon. I just don't understand. I need time to think. I need to see a shrink. People must think I'm a fool when they see me talking to a dog, worse yet, when they see me talking to nobody. When I get to a shrink, you'll see, I'll be all right, besides, where would you go?" "I'll keep on running. But you should know, others cannot hear me as you hear me. You don't have to make your voice audible with me, Alaric. Just think it, and I'll hear it." "You can read my mind?" "I didn't say that." "Then how do you know what I'm thinking?" "You've been doing it all along without realizing it. Now try it deliberately." Alaric tried it, "Can you hear me now?" he said, moving his lips, but without audibly speaking. Rags rolled his eyes, "How original." Before Alaric could make a call, a highway patrol cruiser stopped and shone his spotlight on the wrecked SUV. The patrolman jumped out of his car and lumbered down the embankment with the agility of a high school track star. Alaric was impressed, but then he had seen cops on television chasing fugitives. I'll bet many an offender gets the surprise of his life when an officer literally chases him down and tackles him like a football player. He had always admired and respected the Highway Patrol, now he thanked God for them. "Anybody hurt? Anybody need an ambulance?" "No sir, we're okay. We need a tow, though. How far is the nearest town?" "Can I see your driver license and registration, sir?" Alaric got the papers out of the console and handed them to the officer. He lifted Rags out of the car and attached his bright red leash that Nurse Janice had given him to go with his brand new collar and his brand new harness of which Rags was so proud. "Can it be started?" "Not on a bet! This thing is leaking gas like a sieve." Just as the officer said that, the headlights came on and the horn started blowing. The officer pushed Alaric ahead of him and shouted, "Grab your dog! Let's get out of here, FAST! MOVE! THIS THING'S GOING TO BLOW!" They scrambled and clawed their way up the embankment like monkeys. The noise from the explosion made their ears ring like cathedral bells. The officer and Rags were ahead of Alaric, so they were spared the full force of the blast. The fireball flashed over their heads like ground level Fourth of July fireworks. It singed Alaric's hair, he lurched forward, something — he didn't know what — slammed into his back like a nine-pound sledge hammer. He grabbed his chest, he couldn't catch his breath, he glanced back at what had been his car. A flying piece of metal grazed his head, opening up his forehead just below the hairline. Blood gushed down his face, flooding his eyes, nose and mouth. His head was spinning, he tried to regain his footing. He thought he saw Rags turning back to help him. Blood filled his eyes, he couldn't see. He clutched Rags' leash. He tried to stand up. He couldn't. Something was stinging his shoulders and his head. Was it hail? He fell forward. Rags was under him. I've got to get him out of there, he thought, he'll smother. What was stinging him? But he was beginning to lose consciousness, getting tired, now, tired and cold. He felt like sleeping. He tried to say something, but his mouth was full of blood. His knees and elbows buckled. Peacefully, gratefully, he collapsed. He closed his eyes and sleep mercifully embraced him. Without knowing it, by falling on him, Alaric had inadvertently saved Rags from certain death. The officer, wearing his kevlar vest, was hardly injured at all, just a few cuts and bruises and singed hair. Harry and Irene had just started their vacation the day before and were on their way to the Grand Canyon in their old, but reliable RV when they saw the explosion. They pulled over to offer assistance. They were the only ones who did. Rags didn't know how much time had passed. He had managed to dig a hole under Alaric's arm big enough to allow some air to get to his nostrils. He tried to wriggle and twist himself free. He couldn't. He heard voices. What's this? Someone was pulling Alaric off him. "This guy fell on his dog, must've been trying to protect him." "Is he still alive?" Irene asked. "Which one?" "Both of them." "Dog's okay." The paramedics should be here soon," he told the officer, "I already called them." He put his ear to Alaric's chest. "Can't tell." Rags could hear the sirens coming for miles away. They got louder and louder until he thought his eardrums were going to burst. He saw big red trucks with big red lights flashing. They screeched to a halt. The men turned the sirens off, but the red lights kept flashing. Then to Rags, Harry said, "Come on fella. Are you hurt? Come here, boy. Here, let me look at you." Rags growled. Then to the officer, "Hey, this dog won't let me come near him." "I'll take care of it." The officer walked over to Rags. "It's okay, boy, I'm not going to hurt you or your master. I only want to help, okay?" He extended his hand palm downward toward Rags. Rags sniffed the officer's hand, but did not growl. The officer tried to take the leash from Alaric, but Alaric's hand was gripping it too hard, and wouldn't release it. Then to Alaric, "It's okay, son, you can let go. I promise you I'll take good care of your dog." Alaric, lying on his back, tried to say something, but it came out garbled, "Abmp Pblblsb Rags." Only Rags knew what Alaric said. "I promise I'll take care of him. Okay, now, the paramedics are here. You can let go of the leash. I promise I'll take care of your dog. What's his name?" But Alaric had fallen back into blissful unconsciousness. The officer reached down and one by one gently prized Alaric's fingers open and handed the leash to Harry. Harry and Irene tugged on the leash. Rags wouldn't move. Harry gave the leash a strong jerk and yanked Rags toward the car. "Better call Animal Regs, they'll know what to do with him." "Put him in my cruiser, I'll take care of him." Harry and Irene pulled Rags by the neck over to the officer's car. They picked him up and tossed him into the back. "Alaric!" Rags watched from the windows of the cruiser. The men were giving him CPR. Now the men were putting him on a bed on the ground. Now they were lifting him up. Now they were shoving him into one of those big red trucks with the flashing red lights. Now the big red truck started screaming again and now it was carrying Alaric away. "Alaric? Alaric? Alaric wake up! Please Alaric. Alaric please don't leave me. Please Alaric. Please don't leave me. Please..." But Alaric couldn't answer. Rags watched as the big red truck screamed and sped down the highway bearing his only friend away. He watched until the flashing red lights looked like nothing more than little red fireflies deep in the Louisiana bayous. He watched until he could no longer hear the big red truck screaming or see the little red fireflies flashing. He just sat there staring down the highway at the empty spot where the truck and the lights had faded away. Aeons later, he lay down on the back seat of the cruiser and placed his chin on the bright red leash that Nurse Janice had given him to go with his brand new brushed leather collar and his brand new harness that Alaric had bought for him. His leash, his harness and his collar — he wore so proudly — now permanently stained with the bright red color of Alaric's blood. And Rags felt closer to Alaric than ever before. And he smelled Alaric's blood and whispered Alaric's name. And in his broken heart... he wept. TO BE CONTINUED... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler 8th release July 12, 2002 •CHAPTER THREE •OTHER HEAVENS The officer, sitting in the car with one leg in and one leg out, was filling out the accident report. It had been hours since the accident. The fire was out, now, and the fire trucks and ambulances and Harry and Irene had all left. The towing service would be here in a couple of hours and the wreckage would be hauled off to the bone yard. He still had Alaric's driver's license and registration. In the space where it asked for "Cause of Accident," he printed: Blowout, right front tire. The cruiser's radio sounded, "8607 are you still at the scene?" "That's affirmative. I'm just finishing up with the report. I'll be leaving in a few minutes. Where did they take the injured man? Woodville Regional?" "That's affirmative." "Any information on his condition?" "Negative." Then to Rags, "How you doing fella? You okay? I'll bet you're one hungry little puppy, aren't you?" Rags looked at the officer. He seemed okay. And he did promise to take care of him. "Can you take me to Alaric?" he asked. But the officer didn't hear him. "Tell you what, as soon as I check out you and I are going to go get some victuals in us. How does that sound?" Rags wasn't hungry. It was daylight before the officer finished his shift and started for home. Rags wondered where he was going. Almost as if reading his mind, the officer said, "I'm going to take you home with me until your master gets out of the hospital. What do you think of that, boy? I'll stop at the next rest stop and give you a little walk. By the way, he added, with a smile, my name is Colt, but you can call me Mr. Colt, or," he said aloud, "You can just call me by my first name, Chris." Chris Colt smiled, never dreaming how much of what he said was understood. Rags found Chris Colt to be unusually gentle and affable. He was glad he wasn't going to take him to the pound. Chris Colt lived in a modest home with his wife, Honey, and five-year-old daughter, Megan. The house was located on a cul-de-sac in a "development" at the edge of town and except for a few superficial architectural modifications looked exactly like a hundred other houses in this area. It was a rich terracotta-pink stucco with white trim. It boasted a small, but well manicured front lawn. It had a two-car garage that housed his motorcycle and years of accumulated discards that were either outdated or obsolete, ranging from broken tables and an old computer to endless boxes of holiday decorations and books that his wife had insisted on keeping even though she had never read any of them. There was no room for their two cars in the garage, and they were parked either in the driveway or on the street. The back of the house had a small covered patio that his wife liked to refer to as "the lanai." The back yard was too small for a swimming pool, but had one anyway. The pool was surrounded by a six foot strip of drought-tolerant grass. Drought-tolerant succulents hugged the black wrought iron fence that framed the yard and also served as the property line. His wife liked succulents because they required a minimum of maintenance. Beyond the fence was the desert. Chris Colt wondered how Rags would act around children. After all, Rags had growled at Harry when he went to pick him up, but then Rags was protecting Alaric. "Hi, Honey, I'm home," Chris shouted, entering the house. Ignoring Chris, his wife screeched, pointing at Rags, "What is that?" "It's a dog, Honey, his master is in the hospital. I promised him I'd take care of his dog until he got out." "Get that mangy, fleabitten thing out of this house! He's got mud all over him. If he hurts Megan, I'll never forgive you, Chris." Chris Colt's wife was given to exaggerated emotional behavior. She rather enjoyed the effect it had on Chris. She had been a pretty woman when she was a cheerleader in high school and college, but after giving birth to Megan had gained weight and was either unwilling or unable to lose it, even though she went to aerobic classes on a regular basis. She had been born with honey-blond hair, hence her name. When her parents named her, though, they didn't realize that the honey-blond hair would turn dark as she entered puberty. Her father had wanted to name her Fancy, but her mother nixed the idea, naming her Honey, instead. Attempting to regain the original honey-blond color, Honey bleached her hair to the extent that it had taken on an unnatural shiny yellow-white hue similar to the color and texture of corn silk. She went to great pains to cover her few gray hairs. She had a round face that made her look heavier than she really was and she wore too much makeup which gave her an almost clownish look. She wore her mini dress way too short and the spiked high heels she wore forced her to walk with exaggerated movements which, instead of making her look more feminine, had the exact opposite effect. Chris's mother approved of Honey, however, because, as she had proudly told him, "Honey may be a dull woman, son, but I've had some research done and she's good childbearing stock. She'll give you many healthy children." "Get that thing out of here," Honey shouted. "Take him to the dog pound. He can't stay here." "Oh, calm down, Honey. That's not mud, it's blood, and ..." "BLOOD?" Screeched Honey. "Get that thing out of here. He might be carrying some terrible disease or God-knows-what. Throw him out in the back yard until the dogcatcher comes." Rags tucked his tail and sought refuge behind Chris. Chris chafed. "DADDY!" Megan squealed in delight when she discovered that her father was home. She ran to him with her arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pick me up," she squealed, wrapping her arms around his legs. "What are you gon'na give me if I pick you up?" "Lots of hugs and kisses, Daddy!" Chris picked her up and gave her a big hug and kiss. "How's my big girl?" "I'm fine, Daddy. Oh Daddy I'm so glad you're home." She kissed him all over his neck and hugged him until her mother said, "That's enough, Megan. Get down; your father's tired. He's been working all night." Chris put Megan back down. She hadn't seen Rags when she first entered the kitchen, but when she spotted him, she squealed in delight, "A PUPPY!" Before her father or mother could stop her, she ran to Rags and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him just as she had hugged her father and giving him kisses all over his neck and head. "Oh Daddy, you brought me a puppy! He's beautiful! Oh Daddy, I love you!" Megan tightened her arms around Rags' neck. "I love him. I love him. What's his name?" "I don't know, yet, Megs, I have to check his tags. He's not ours to keep, though, Megs, so don't get too attached to him. He belongs to someone else." "Megan! Get away from that thing, He's going to the dog pound!" "Honey, I told you, I'm keeping him for a man who is in the hospital." "You're not keeping that thing. He's going to the pound, Chris! Do you hear me?" And then to Megan, "Megan! Get away from that thing! Look at that mess you're smearing all over you. That's blood, Chris, do see what you're doing to your daughter?" Chris looked down at Megan who was still hugging Rags. She seemed to be talking and listening to him. "Oh, thank you, Daddy, I love him so much!" Remember, Megs, he's not ours. He belongs to someone else. Why don't you see if he'll eat for you? He wouldn't eat anything for me, and I know he's hungry." "You're not feeding that dog in this house! Get him out of here." Chris took Rags out into the back yard. Megan started to follow, but Honey forbade her. Rarely did Chris stand up to Honey, finding it much easier to simply give in to her demands, or, like in most instances, just going for a ride on his motorcycle. Megan loved to ride on the motorcycle with him, but Honey put up such a fuss when she did, Chris usually waited until she wasn't around then he and Megan would take a ride. Megan always promised not to tell. Chris hooked Rags to one of the support posts of the lanai. "I'll get you something to lie on, boy, and bring you some water. I know you want some water. You look like you've been starved," Chris said, scratching behind his ears, "You're awfully thin, boy, I wonder if I should notify the Humane Society. But then, on the other hand, you've got a new collar and a new harness. Somebody sure loves you. After I get some rest I'll call the hospital and see how your master is doing and when he can come to pick you up." Rags just looked at Chris. Megan was watching from inside the screen door. When Chris came back inside, he told Honey that he was going to get some sleep and when she went to town would she pick up some puppy chow for the dog. He forgot to look at the tags to see what his name was. "His name is Rags," Megan said, "And he would eat a hot dog." Chris bent over to read Rags' registration tags. He crinkled his brow and looked at Megan. Then, turning to Honey, said "Rags really is his name. How did you know what his name is Megan? You can't read." "He told me," she said proudly. "Is Lucille coming, or are you taking Megs with you?" Chris asked. "I've already called Lucille. I told her that you were going to pick her up," Honey replied, annoyed. I've got to go, I'm already late." And she walked out the door. Chris hoisted Megs up on his shoulders and said, "Come on, Punkin'. Let's go pick up Lucille so I can get some rest." Megan waited until Honey had left the house and had backed her car out of the driveway before saying, "Can Rags come, too, Daddy?" "Did you ask Rags if he wanted to come with us? Rags might not want to come, Sugar Dumplin'." Chris said. "Oh yes he does, Daddy. He wants to come with us. Can he come with us? Oh Daddy I love him so much!" TO BE CONTINUED... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler July 19th, 2002 Chapter Three—Continued OTHER HEAVENS—Continued 9th Release At Lucille's house Megan and Rags got into the back seat of Chris' pickup. Chris had installed a special step on the passenger side so that Megan and Lucille wouldn't have to strain to get inside. Lucille got into the truck. She was a no-nonsense black woman in her late seventies who suffered severely from rheumatoid arthritis. After teaching elementary school for thirty-five years she thought that she might enjoy traveling, but after a few cruises traveling alone, she found the tours to be too regimented and repetitive. She loved teaching and had a way with children that made them eager to learn. That was the only job she ever had, beginning it immediately after graduation. She had been hardly more than a girl when she married. Her husband, Louis, was 10 years her senior, and even though they had known each other for only a month when they married, they loved each other as deeply and passionately as any two lovers could. He, being patriotic, had joined the Navy early in 1942 shortly after Pearl Harbor. She had begged him not to go, but he loved his country and felt duty-bound. She had a premonition as they kissed good-bye from the passenger platform at the train station. When he finished boot camp Louis was sent to Pearl Harbor where he spent most of the first year of his enlistment as a cashier in the commissary store and Lucille thanked God every day for giving Louis a safe assignment. Later when he was transferred to a destroyer she prayed even harder for God to keep him safe until the war was over. Then when she learned that the destroyer he was on sank during the Battle of Midway and that Louis was one of only nine survivors from his ship who was picked up by another destroyer and saved, she thanked God on her knees. And later when that destroyer was bombed by a kamikaze and fifty men had been blown to death and another fifty wounded and the ship had to limp back into port she joined the choir and sang louder than anybody and increased the amount she tithed and she praised God and told everybody how great He was for protecting her man and giving him safe harbor. Then V-J Day! She was the happiest woman on earth. She rejoiced. The war was over! She literally danced as she thought of all the wonderful plans she and Louis would make for their future and how he had said that he wanted nine children. She ran all the way to the church that day and told everybody how God had answered her prayers and saved her man. The very next day Louis called her from Hawaii and told her that he was going to be flown back to San Diego to be processed out of the Navy and would be home soon. "How soon?" She was overcome with joy. "No more than two weeks!" Louis shouted into the phone. He called her again that same day to tell her that before he left Hawaii, he was going into Honolulu to get her something pretty as a souvenir of Hawaii. Lucille couldn't contain her tears of joy. She fell to her knees and thanked God for being so kind to her and for getting her man safely through the war. Only two more weeks! I've got so many things to do! There will be a big celebration, of course, when he gets home. They won't go out, she will make his favorite dinner and just the two of them will dine by candlelight. She will have to repaint the front room and the bathroom. She will have to buy a new frock and have her hair done. She will have to scrub the house from top to bottom. She will buy some crepe paper and decorate the whole house, even the kitchen. She looked at her watch; I'd better get busy! My how time does fly! The next day she was scrubbing the walls of the front room to prepare it for painting. She heard a knock at the door. That would be somebody telling her that her man was on his way. She had a scarf around her head and a scrub brush in her hands and she was wet and soapy. It was a man with a telegram. She looked at him as if to say, "It can't be bad news. God has done saved him." She just stood there transfixed, looking at the yellow envelope, afraid to open it. Then she opened it, but she couldn't read it. The boy from Western Union asked her if she would like for him to read it to her. The neighbors didn't know where it came from. It sounded like a wild animal was literally being torned apart. The neighbors closed their windows and doors not knowing what manner of beast was loosed in their neighborhood. Her scream could be heard for more than a mile. She fell to her knees, but not to pray. Her Louis had come through World War II only to have his life snuffed out in a taxi cab that had crashed on its way back to the base from Honolulu. Her cries of anguish lasted for weeks during which she contemplated suicide. She wouldn't, she couldn't leave the house. She had become a zombie. Members of the church visited her every day and tried to comfort her. They washed her and they made her eat, even if it was only enough to keep her alive. And then one morning she woke up and she wasn't crying anymore. And the sun was shining again. And her soul was filled with a resolve to go on living. She counted all the money that Louis had sent her to buy a house when the war was over. She would use it to finish school and go on to college. She buried herself in her studies, making only A's. Her pain had turned to neither hate nor anger. She refused to become a cold and bitter woman. God had answered her prayers just like she asked Him to. He brought Louis safely through the war. But He had played a terrible joke on her. He had taken her to Heaven's door and just as she was about to enter, He slammed it in her face. Hadn't she been faithful and honest and good? And hadn't she had gone to church every Sunday? And hadn't she kept all the Commandments? But God is a jealous God, He, Himself said so. And she had loved Louis more than Him. Louis had been her knight in shining armor, her savior and her salvation. She had put him before everything — even God. Louis was the only lover she ever had. She never went to church again. And she never forgave God. Lucille fastened her seatbelts, "Well there's my little Megs! How you doing child?" "Daddy got me a puppy!" Megan shouted "Have you had breakfast?" Chris asked Lucille. If you like, we could stop somewhere and get a bite to eat. Megs and I haven't eaten either. Where would you like to go for breakfast?" "Tell him Uncle Tom's Pancake House," Megan said. "Look at the puppy Daddy got me, 'Cille." "I told you, Megan, that's not your dog. He belongs to someone else. Is the pancake house okay with you Lucille?" Lucille looked at Chris and nodded. "His name is Rags," Megan said, excitedly. Lucille looked back at Megan who had her arms around Rags' neck. Then she looked at Rags and Rags looked at her. A sudden undeniable recognition flashed between them. Lucille's and Rags' eyes were locked on each other. Chris sensed this more than observed it. After a moment Lucille nodded at Rags. It was almost imperceptible, but Chris observed this too. After they had eaten, Chris ordered a side of sausage to go for Rags. No telling how long it has been since he ate. When they got back to the truck Chris let Rags out for a few minutes and Lucille waited in the truck while he and Megan took him for a short walk around the block. He gave him the sausages when they got back and Rags ate without any coaxing. On the way home Chris stopped at the market and got him some puppy chow and for some strange reason he bought a package of hot dogs — kosher hot dogs. Chris put Rags in the back yard when they got home, then Chris crashed. His last thoughts before falling asleep were to call the hospital and check on the status of Alaric when he awoke. "Don't you just love my new puppy, 'Cille?" "That's not your dog, child. Don't let yourself in for a heartache. That's a special dog. He doesn't belong to but one person. He is a one-man dog. You can't change that. You can't keep him." "But what if the man who had him doesn't want him anymore?" "That'll never happen. What time is Miss Honey coming home?" "I don't know. She went dancing. Can I go outside and play with Rags?" "Why don't you wait until it cools down a little bit, the sun is too hot right now. Wait until this evening." "I'll stay on the lanai. I won't get in the sun, besides, Mommy will be home by then and she won't let me go outside." Megan said. Lucille situated her chair so that she could see through the sliding glass doors and keep an eye on Megan and Rags. "Okay, I'm going to sit here and I'll be watching you, now, don't go off the patio and whatever you do, don't get near that pool. And don't make any noise, you're daddy is sleeping." "I won't! Thank you 'Cille." "Go on now, but if you leave the patio, you have to come back inside." Megan burst through the doors and out onto the lanai so fast she startled Rags. He had been dozing. She threw her arms around him and hugged him and gave him kisses. Rags responded by nuzzling up to her. Later Lucille called Megan back into the house for lunch. She had made roast beef sandwiches. After Megan finished eating, Lucille gave her three hot dogs that she had cut into bite-size pieces for Rags. Megan grabbed the hot dogs and ran outside. "Rags! Look what I brought you! It's hot dogs. Your favorite!" Rags wasn't hungry, but realized he would need his strength for what was coming. Megan fed him the pieces one at a time. "Oh Rags, I love you." Rags gave her an angelkiss. Honey came home late that afternoon in a furious mood as usual. Chris was still asleep and that meant that she would have to drive Lucille back home. She saw Megan out on the lanai with Rags. "Is that mangy dog still here? I told Chris to get rid of that mutt." She went to the patio doors and shouted at Megan. "Get in this house. Lucille, I told her she was not to go out on the lanai unless you were with her. Then she went into the master bedroom where Chris was sleeping. "Chris! Chris! Wake up! I thought you were going to get rid of that dog. He's still here. Get up and get rid of that thing. I'm going to take a long bath and relax, so you'll have to take Lucille home and take that dog with you. Drop him off somewhere on the side of the road. I don't care what you do with him, just get him out of my house!" Chris didn't say anything, just got out of bed and shaved and showered. He got dressed and went into the family room where Megan and Lucille were waiting. Lucille had made a fresh pot of coffee and had already poured a cup for him. "Thanks, 'Cille," Chris said, taking a sip. You always did make the best coffee." Megan crawled up into his lap. He picked up the phone and called the hospital where the ambulance had taken Alaric. He got through to the floor nurse who told him that Alaric was still unconscious, that his prognosis was gloomy, but he seems to be improving. She said that he keeps calling someone. She said that she couldn't be sure, but it sounded like, "Bags, or Rags, or something like that." Chris looked at Megs and thanked the nurse. He finished his coffee. Then to Megs, "Come on Puddin', you want to go with Daddy to take Lucille home?" "Oh Daddy. You know I do. Can Rags come too?" "Yeah, go get him." TO BE CONTINUED... OTHER HEAVENS—Continued By David Butler 11th Release — August 2, 2002 Chris gently lifted Honey into his arms and carried her, with her eyes still tightly shut, into the bedroom they shared. He lay her down on the bed where once they had loved. He got some que tips, alcohol and hydrogen peroxide and cleaned her scratches. "How bad is, Chris? Will I have scars? Oh, I'll have scars all over my body," Honey said. He told her that the cuts and scratches were mostly superficial and would not leave any scars. He didn't think she needed to see a doctor, but if she wanted him to, he would take her to one when he picked up Lucille. She told him that she wanted to get some rest for a while and if she didn't feel any better she would go and see the doctor and would he bring her a cup of coffee? Chris took Honey her coffee and went in to check on Megan. "Hi Puddin'," Chris said to his brokenhearted daughter. Megan still had her head buried in her pillow, refusing to look up at her father. "Go away!" she said, "I don't love you anymore. And I hate Honey." "You don't mean that, Megan." It was one of the few times he had ever spoken her full name, preferring, instead, to use an affectionate sobriquet. "She is your mother. You are never to call your mother by her first name." "I don't care, Daddy. She made you kill Rags. I hate her." "Come with me, Sweetheart." Chris picked Megan up and took her out onto the patio. "Close your eyes, now, and don't open them until you hear me snap my fingers." "Okay, Daddy." Megan closed her eyes tightly the way she had seen her mother do. Chris smiled. With Megan still in his arms, Chris quietly walked to the other side of the pool. He put Megan down on the grass and knelt down beside her. He snapped his fingers and Rags jumped on her with all fours furiously wagging his tail, and giving Megan tons of angelkisses. "Rags!" she screamed. "You're not dead!" She grabbed Rags by the neck and hugged him so tightly, he whimpered. "Oh Daddy, I love you! Oh Rags, I love you!" Chris kept close watch as his daughter and Rags wrestled and romped and played in the grass. He loved the sound of his daughter's laughter. Chris told Megan to take Rags with her to her bedroom and get ready to go with him to pick up Lucille. Honey just happened to see them as they dashed by her bedroom door. Seeing that Rags was not dead, she went into hysterics. She must be hallucinating. Hadn't she, herself, seen Chris kill that dog? If he's dead, then how can he be running around in the house? Honey was sure it was the ghost of the dog coming back to haunt her. Rags and Megan ran past her door again and Honey shouted, "It's alive! It's alive!" Chris ran into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to calm her down. He helped her up and took her into the family room and sat her down in Lucille's chair. He quickly brought her a glass of water and one of her "happy pills." "Here," he told her, "take this." She took the medication without any hesitation. "Oh, Chris," she said, " I think I might be going crazy. I think that dog's spirit has come back to haunt me." Chris reassured her that she was not going crazy. He told her to watch and he took Rags back out onto the lanai. "You're not going to kill him again, are you?" she asked. Chris walked over to the patio table, bent over and picked up a very dead seven foot diamondback rattler that had ventured in from the desert to cool off in the shade of the patio. He had coiled up underneath Honey's chair. "Rags wasn't trying to kill you, Honey, he was trying to save you." Honey fainted. Instead of waking her, Chris used this opportunity to explain to Megan that Rags was a hero. Megan hugged Rags tighter, and told him how much she loved him. Chris reminded her again that Rags was not her dog. He told her again that she could not keep him. Chris picked the unconscious Honey up and carried her back to her bed. He wrote a short note and taped it to her vanity mirror just in case she woke up before they got back. He stood over her for a moment studying her. Without her make up and with her eyes closed she looked almost angelic. She reminded him of the days before they had gotten married. How they had loved! He bent over, smelled her breath, and tenderly kissed her lips. Chris called the hospital. The floor nurse told him that Alaric had slipped into a coma. She told him that she was glad he had called. Alaric's grandfather and grandmother were there and had wanted to thank him in person and would he mind meeting with them. Chris said that he would stop by there on his way back after picking up Lucille. With his uniform on, the hospital staff didn't question Chris as he brought Rags into the hospital. Rags was wearing his collar and harness and Chris had doubled the leash, so that he looked like a certified medical companion or a police dog. Megan and Lucille were trailing behind. Chris and his solemn entourage went straight up to the room where Alaric lay sleeping. Bill and Alma were already there. Chris introduced Lucille, Megan and Rags, then himself. They talked in whispers even though Alaric could not hear them. Bill and Alma were delighted to meet them. They asked if they could take Chris and his family to dinner that evening. Chris was pleased that they invited Lucille to come along as well. For some reason, Chris caught himself drawn to Rags. Rags was looking directly at Alaric. In an incalculably minute instant, Chris witnessed something electric flash in Rags' eyes. Chris was the only one who saw it. He thought. Chris told Bill and Alma that Rags was Alaric's dog and that he had promised to take care of him until Alaric regained his strength. Chris asked Bill and Alma if they wanted to take him now. They told Chris that they were staying in a hotel and they weren't sure how the hotel staff would react to Rags and if Chris could continue to keep him until Alaric regained consciousness, or until such time, God forbid, the doctors gave them alternative options. "Yes!" Megan said. They told Chris that they would gladly pay for any and all expenses he had incurred and for any trouble Rags had caused. Chris told them that it was no trouble at all. In the meantime Rags had stolen the hearts of Bill and Alma. Bill and Alma made arrangements to have a car pick up Chris, Honey, Megan and Lucille for dinner that evening. "Say, around eight?" "Eight's fine." Honey was still asleep when they got back to the house. Chris wrote another note telling Honey that they had all been invited to dinner tonight. He told her that she should go shopping and buy something brand new for herself, Lucille and Megan. He knew that shopping would cheer her up. Before going to bed, Chris told Lucille everything that had happened that morning, omitting the shouting. He told her to keep Rags inside until he could get some three-quarter inch chicken wire to install along the bottom of the wrought-iron fence to keep the snakes out. He should have done that years ago. Megan was playing on the floor with Rags. In her heart she knew that something had transpired between Rags and Alaric the moment Rags saw him, even though he was unconscious. Lucille knew it too. "Oh, ‘Cille," she cried, "I just can't let him go. He's mine. Tell Daddy to buy him for me." Lucille picked Megan up and held her to her breast. She gently rocked her back and forth, "There, now. Hush, child. You saw what happened at that hospital the minute that dog laid eyes on that man. That dog and that man belong to each other and together they belong to today. You belong to tomorrow, baby. Don't cry, now. You'll always be a part of Rags and Rags will always be a part of you, but he's not yours. Someday you'll understand. You and Rags shared a moment in destiny. That moment is past. Hush, now, baby. There'll be other heavens for you." To be continued... Chapter Three—Continued By David Butler 10th Release — July 26, 2002 After dropping Lucille off, Chris stopped at a convenience store and got Megan and himself a soda and a tennis ball for Rags. He took them to the Desert Crossroads Valley Park so that Rags could get some exercise playing fetch. He taught Megan how to throw a ball and Rags was deliriously happy to retrieve it for her. It gave him a chance to stretch his legs and when Chris would tell him to give the ball to Megan, he gently placed it in her hand. Megan threw the ball as far as she could, and that was nice, but Rags preferred it when Chris threw it. Chris threw it farther. The three of them played like this for an hour or so until Rags' tongue was hanging out at which time Chris announced that it was time to go home. Rags' spirit dropped at the mention of home. Though he liked Chris and Megan, their home was not his home. His home was with Alaric, wherever Alaric might be. He did not want to go to where Miss Honey would be and would shout at him and call him terrible names. True, some of it — most of it — was true. He really was fleabitten, and maybe he was filthy, but he had never been mangy. And even if he had been, Alaric would have taken him to Nurse Janice and together they would have given him some medicine to cure him of the burrowing little parasites. So, she wasn't altogether incorrect, and, after all, it was her home. He tried, as he had so many times before, to send a message to Alaric. "Can you hear me, Alaric? Alaric, wake up." If only he could get a little closer to the hospital, his power might be stronger and he might be able to find him. If only he had been allowed to spend more time with his mother. She had been the Vessel of Transfer and it had been interrupted before it was complete. If only he hadn't been snatched away too soon. So many "ifs." What had Chris called the hospital? Woodville Regional? When they got back home Chris took Rags around the side of the house and into the back yard. Then he and Megan went inside, Honey would just assume that he had gotten rid of Rags. But Rags didn't stay out of sight and when Honey saw him out on the patio, she screeched like a parrot in distress, "You brought that dog back! Chris! I want that mangy thing out of my house! Permanently. If you don't get rid of him right now, I'm going to go open the back gate and kick him out myself." "Don't do that Honey. I have to get ready for work and when I get back in the morning, we'll talk." "I've talked enough, Chris. I want that doggone dog gone!" Honey said, and after a moment she smiled at her accidental pun. If only everybody else could see just how smart she really was. "I've got to go to work, now, Honey, promise me you won't do anything foolish." "I promise I won't do anything foolish. It's either me or that dog, Chris. Now you decide. He can stay here tonight, but if he isn't gone tomorrow morning, then you'll just have to move out and take your dog with you." She raised her hand, palm outward, to her forehead in what she thought made her look like Joan Crawford. "Megan and I will get by somehow. Although God knows it won't be easy getting by on alimony and child support. But you — you and your dog will be happy living high-on-the-hog while we suffer." Honey was given to the dramatic. Chris winced and went into the master bedroom and put on his uniform. As he was going out the door, he said, "We'll talk in the morning, Honey." Lucille had made a meatloaf earlier and Honey made herself and Megan a sandwich for supper. After supper she poured herself a cup of coffee and they went into the family room to watch television. Rags was watching through the sliding glass doors. Chris had just naturally assumed that Honey would feed him. He had left the puppy chow out where she couldn't miss it. Megan saw Rags looking through the door and ran over to go outside and play with him. "Stay away from that dog, Megan. Now I've told you that is not your dog and you don't know what kind of diseases he might have." "He doesn't have anything Mommy. Daddy checked." "Oh? Your father's a doctor now?" "I don't know, but Daddy knows everything, and he looked at Rags' tags and said that Rags had his shots and that means that he's okay," Meagan said. "Stay away from that dog, Megan," Honey admonished again. "It's time for you to go to bed anyway. Go to your room and get ready for bed. I'll be in there in a few minutes to tuck you in." Megan went to her room and Rags walked over to the blankets that Chris had laid out for him. He sat down and looked out over the desert. He saw the two yellow eyes, the size of footballs, watching him. He shook as if to rid himself of the evil, and curled up on his blankets and pulled his tail up over his nose, but he did not sleep. Honey poured herself another cup of coffee and stacked the dirty dishes in the sink for Lucille to clean. Then, as was her custom when Chris was at work, she called her folks. She talked to her mother for some two hours and told her all about her ordeal with Chris and that fleabitten mutt that he had brought home. She didn't understand how Chris could be so gullible. "He falls for every trick that comes down the pike," she said, priding herself on her choice of words. She told her mother that she was thinking about leaving Chris. "Don't be a fool, Honey," her mother scolded. She told her daughter that Chris was a good man, that he worked hard and that he didn't run around on her. She told her that good men aren't easy to come by. She also told her daughter that without Chris' salary, she would probably have to go to work to help support herself and Megan. She reminded Honey that gym classes, aerobic classes and daily luncheons and dinner out twice a week and baby sitters and shopping sprees to Phoenix might be difficult to give up. She also reminded Honey that good jobs are hard to find in a small town like this and that she might have to commute for a couple of hours each way. That, or settle for a job slinging hash at Bob's Eats & Truck Stop. Unless, of course, they had an opening as a burger-turner at the local Velvet Creme. Honey said good-bye and hung up the phone. She went to her bathroom and applied her wrinkle cream. "Slinging hash. That'll be the day," she said aloud. She took a little something to help her sleep, what with everything she had to put up with nowadays, she didn't know how she was ever going to hold up. She tied her hair up in a silk scarf to preserve the curls and got into bed. These nightly rituals, along with the wrinkle cream, helped deter Chris from "pestering" her when he came home. Just before she turned off the bedside lamp she thought she saw something moving outside her bedroom window. She looked at the window for a minute, didn't see anything, shrugged, fluffed up her pillows, pulled down her blindfold, and immediately went to her "happy place." Chris checked his watch. Another three hours to go. He wondered how Rags was doing. He hoped Honey hadn't done anything foolish like opening the back gate and making him leave. He hoped she hadn't hurt him. No, not even Honey would hurt an innocent animal. But then on the other hand.... Oh, well, his shift will soon be over and he'll find out for himself. Megan woke up at 3 AM and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she passed the family room she saw Rags looking at her from the lanai. She knew she shouldn't have done it, but she went to the door and asked Rags if he wanted some water. After she drank, she joined Rags on the patio. Megs lay down on Rags' blanket and put her arms around him and they both fell asleep. That's how Chris found them when he got home the next morning. He stood there and just watched them for a moment. He smiled, put on a pot of coffee, and checked to make sure Honey was still asleep. He came back to the family and sat down in Lucille's chair and watched his daughter and the dog she loved and the brilliant desert sun come up over the horizon. If only he could keep Rags. But it was impossible. He was glad he didn't have a camera. This picture of his daughter and this dog would remain with him for the rest of his life; it was indelibly emblazoned on the pages of his mind's picture book of Memories of Megan. He heard Honey stirring and quickly went out onto the patio and gently lifted Megan into his arms and carried her to her bed. It was only then he woke her up. "Daddy!" she shouted and threw her arms around him and hugged him. "Daddy." "What's up, Punkin'?" he asked. "Daddy, I dreamed that Rags took me to a secret place and there were no people there except for one man and he was sitting under a tree all by himself. He seemed to be mixed up. He was a sad man, Daddy.. He looked a little bit like you." "Where were your mommy and daddy?" Chris asked. Their reverie was interrupted, however, by Honey's phlegmy morning voice. She always seemed to have a frog in her throat when she woke up. She was standing in the doorway in her white terrycloth bathrobe with a cup of coffee in her hand, "How come that dog is still here?" she asked, trying vainly to clear her throat. "I told you to drop that thing off along the highway. I'm telling you, Chris, I won't have that dog around Megan and me. Now get rid of him. Get rid of him NOW!" It was Honey's custom to take the morning newspaper and a cup of coffee out onto the patio before the day got too hot. "I'm going out on the patio now to read the paper and if that mangy mutt so much as sniffs my foot, I'm not kidding, Chris, I'll kick him to Phoenix. Take him with you when you go to pick up Lucille. And DON'T bring him back!" Chris winked at Megan and started getting her dressed to go with him to pick up Lucille when they heard what sounded like a wild animal screaming. It came from the direction of the patio. It was diphthongal in nature, starting in low and increasing as it got louder and longer. It pierced the desert sunrise like a Remington 300 Magnum. Megan's face turned white with fear. Chris put her on the bed and told her to stay there. He ran to the patio where he found Honey on the patio concrete floor crying. Her elbows and knees were bloody and her bathrobe was stained from the coffee she had been holding. Her cup had broken into a thousand pieces and the newspaper was strewn all about. "Get that thing away from me!" she shouted, pointing at Rags. "He tried to kill me! That mangy thing knocked me down and growled at me. He tried to bite me and he knocked me down. KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" Rags, with his tail tucked between his legs, had retreated into the far corner of the yard. Had the back gate been open he would surely have fled. Chris, still in his uniform, reached for his firearm. He took careful aim. "NO!" Megan shouted. "NO! Please, Daddy, NO!" "YES!" Shouted Honey. "KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" Chris was shocked to see that Megan had followed him out onto the patio. Still holding his gun in his right hand, Chris swooped Megan up with his left arm and took her back into the house, "Stay here, Punkin'," he said. "PLEASE, DADDY, DON'T KILL HIM!" Honey had scrambled up on her hands and knees and was trying to stand up when Chris returned, but he stepped in front of her and raised his firearm. She stuck her fingers in her ears and closed her eyes. Seeing his wife in that ridiculous position made Chris actually felt sorry for her. He helped her up, but she still didn't open her eyes or take her fingers out of her ears. "I can't look," she said. In her bedroom Megan buried her head in her pillow and began sobbing, silently praying, "O' God, please don't let Daddy kill Rags. I'm so sorry God." Chris fired three shots. "RAGS!" To be continued... HIDDEN COVENANT............ CHAPTER FOUR By David Butler 12th Release — August 9, 2002 Chris didn't get to sleep very long that day. As soon as Honey woke up and saw the note, she was so excited, she ran through the house exclaiming that she would have to go to town and have a facial and get her hair coifed. She woke up Chris and asked him where were they going for dinner? The Velvet Creme? The Velvet Creme was the nicest restaurant in town. Really, it was the only restaurant in town, unless you counted Bob's Eats & Truck Stop. And that's about as much a restaurant as Uncle Tom's Pancake House. She even asked Chris which dress should she wear. "I must take a long bath," she said. And I'll use my gardenia bubble bath." Chris liked the clean smell of gardenia on her skin after she bathed. She asked Chris if that man's grandparents had said which restaurant they would be taking them to. She wished they could go to the Gant. But the Gant was in Laughlin and they surely wouldn't send a car to take them all the way to Laughlin. What were this man's grandparents like? Would they like her? Did Chris think they had a lot of money? What if that man died? What if he never came out of his coma? What had Chris called him? Allrik? Something like that. She asked him if she should wear her sequined cherry-red dress with her oxblood pumps, but Chris told her that maybe she should get a whole new outfit. "Then we'll just have to go to Laughlin," she quipped. "There's no place to buy anything in this god-forsaken-town, unless you want your wife to meet those fancy people dressed in a muumuu from Wal-Mart." She rolled her eyes and drawled the first syllable of Wal-Mart out so that it sounded like "Waawl-Mart." Just then the phone rang. It was Alma and Bill Adams. They had asked around, and the hospital staff told them that the Gant in Laughlin was the best restaurant around and would be too inconvenient for them to send the car earlier than they originally suggested? Chris thanked them and told them that it would be no trouble at all. Honey was ecstatic, "That means that we have to go to Laughlin now!" she said, clasping her hands together. "Get ready, everybody, we have to hurry. Chris, hurry up and get in that shower. We've got to get to Laughlin, shop and get back in time to go back!" She dashed about and slapped on some makeup, brushed her hair, started to grab a bite to eat, but no, we'll have lunch in Laughlin. When Chris finished showering, she herded everybody into her Chrysler mini van. "And bring that precious, precious puppy with you, Megan, dear." "Oh, boy! Thank you Mommy," Megan said, and called Rags. Lucille looked at Chris and said, under her breath, "Hmmph!" Honey told Chris that he had better stand by for wallet shock, because she was going shopping at Fashions by Renéé. Chris told them to get in the car while he went to get Rags. He stalled long enough to make a discreet phone call to Renéé. He had stopped Renéé about a year ago for speeding, and instead of citing her, he let her off with a warning. She thanked him and gave him her personal business card with the "back-line" number, saying, "I owe you one, handsome." Chris said that he had a favor to ask of Renéé. "Anything, handsome," Renéé said. He told her that his wife would be visiting her place, and might need a little assistance with her selection. "Say no more, handsome," Renéé interrupted. If patrolling the highways was Chris Colt's métier; style was Renéé's. Renéé had started out working after school and on Saturdays in a small dress shop that her parents owned and became infatuated with the business. Her parents, seeing that she had a natural talent for fashion and a good head for business, sent her to haute couture school in Paris. Later she earned her B.B.A. from Columbia. She parlayed that small dress shop into the supreme shopping experience this side of Rodéo Drive. Fashions by Renéé was a shopping woman's dream. In one stop a woman could obtain the very latest fashions from Paris, Milan, London or New York. Fashions by Renéé held regular fashion shows that were so successful, the haute couture houses had to schedule their shows more than a year in advance. Professional tailors were on hand to fit any gown while the customer waited, if she chose, in a lounge, complete with everything from cable televisions and slot machines to a fully complemented bar. The spa, which was located on the second floor, boasted jacuzzis, hot tubs, private steam rooms, exercise equipment and expert masseurs standing by to massage the kinks out of the most stubborn of muscles. Following that, if she so desired, she could visit the salon for a complete facial, waxing, manicure, pedicure, have her hair done and makeup applied by artists unparalleled in the business. Her store in Laughlin did not have all the amenities that the Vegas store had, but it was still the best by far in the region and, when necessary, could get immediate support from the Vegas store. Renéé assured Chris that he would not be disappointed. Jokingly, she said, "Now that we're even, handsome, I'll have to figure out a way to become indebted to you again." "You betcha!" Chris smiled. Chris dropped Honey, Lucille and Megan off at the dress shop. "Do you have your cell phone on?" Honey asked. "Yes, Honey. Now be sure and get something new for Megan and Lucille." "I have my own outfits," Lucille said, rather indignantly. Chris was embarrassed. "I don't," Megan said. "Oh come on, you two," Honey said, laughing. "How often does Chris tell me I can spend like this? I'm in a ‘frock-buying-kind-a-mood.' Everybody's getting something today. Even that precious, precious puppy. Now you take care of that darling puppy, you hear me, Chris? After all, he saved Mommy's life today." Chris winced. He exercised Rags in the park with a game of fetch. Rags was happy. After the park, Chris took Rags to a pet salon for grooming. Rags was not happy. Finding himself alone, with time on his hands, Chris went into one of the casinos and started playing the slots. Not being much of a gambler, and after losing $20, he decided to take in one of the matinees. He was glad he had the next three days off. That would give him a chance to get to know Rags better and to make whatever arrangements the Adams' ultimately decided to do when Alaric regained consciousness. Never once did Chris Colt entertain thoughts that Alaric might not make a complete recovery. After the show, he picked up Rags and took him to a pet store. Chris bought him a brand new collar and a brand new leash and threw the old blood-encrusted bright red leash away that Nurse Janice had so lovingly given him and his collar of brushed rolled leather that Alaric had placed around his neck. Rags was sad. They stopped by an ice cream parlor and Chris bought a cone for himself and a scoop in a cup for Rags. They ate the ice cream in a park while waiting for the phone to ring. When Chris pulled the mini van up to Renéé's, Megan burst through the door with her arms full of packages. "Oh Rags," she shouted, just wait 'til you see what all I got!" Rags gave her an angelkiss. Rags, realizing the danger of reckless abandon in terms of his "ability," became much more guarded. Also it took intense concentration, but he had to be extremely careful when around Lucille. Chris, however, was different. Chris—like Alaric—was very receptive without realizing it. Perhaps in another time and place he and Chris could have been compatriots. But then again, well... Who knows what the future holds? To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler August 16, 2002 •Chapter Four—Continued •HIDDEN COVENANT—Continued •Release 13 The limousine pulled into the red carpeted portico between two uniformed parking attendants. As soon as the car came to a standstill, both back doors opened simultaneously and as Chris Colt's family exited, a hostess was waiting to lead them to their party. The driver asked Chris if he would like for him to check on Rags periodically and take him for a walk. Chris was surprised. "Yes," he answered, "please." The hostess was a pretty blonde with just a tad too much personality, but pleasant. "My name is Selma," she said, leading them to the lounge where they were seated in overstuffed chairs. She asked them to wait while she checked to see if their table was ready. She returned a minute later with lounge menus in her hand and asked them if they would like complimentary beverages and hors d'oeuvres while they waited for Mr. and Mrs. Adams. "Yes!" Honey said, grabbing the menu out of Selma's hand before Chris could decline. "I'd like an old fashioned to start with. I just love old fashions." Lucille ordered a glass of white wine and Chris had bourbon and water with a twist. He ordered a Coca Cola for Megan. The hors d'oeuvres were "to die for!" Honey would later tell her friends at her aerobic class. "They had chopped little pieces of spicy meat, and some kind of fish, I think it was some kind of tuna, and creamed vegetables, and all this stuff was served on these little bitty crackers and little bitty pieces of toast. They had caviar. I don't like caviar, it's too salty. They had oysters on the half shell. I don't see how anybody can eat those slimy things. They would make me vomit! They had sushi, I just can't eat raw fish, either. I heard that raw fish has worms in it, and when you eat it, they travel from your stomach and get into your blood stream and ride the blood stream until they get to your brain and then they drive you crazy just eating away at all them brain cells. Then, when they can't eat anymore, they bore a tiny little hole through your eardrum and crawl out and make more little baby worms. Don't ask me how the baby worms find the fish in the first place. They had something else called ‘zesty chutney' and I just don't know what-all!" "I told Chris, ‘Chris,' I said, ‘I'm not taking any chances,' so I ordered the desert onion." A few minutes later Bill and Alma came in. "I see you found the coolest spot in the house," Bill said to Chris. Chris stood and introduced Honey, Lucille and Megan to Bill and Alma. Selma ushered the complete party to their table. Honey grabbed one more piece of the desert onion before leaving. "Tell me about Rags, Chris," Bill said, jokingly, "Is he a he? Or is she a she? Or is he a she? Or is she a he?" Chris smiled, but before he could answer, Honey said, "She's a he, and just this morning he saved my life. You should have seen him. I was going out on the lanai to read the morning paper and that darling, precious puppy jumped up on me and saved me from a twelve foot long diamond back rattle snake! I liked to died! And would have, too, if it hadn't been for that beautiful, beautiful little puppy." Honey was given to exaggeration. Honey ordered another old fashioned. "I just love these things," she said to Alma. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you, dear," Alma said. "Not at all," Honey was delighted this great woman was joining her in a cocktail. For the first time in a long time, Chris was actually proud of Honey. She looked positively radiant with her "make-over." Renéé was to be commended. The glow of the candles, the orchestra, the company and the ambience seemed to give her a rosy glow and frame her hair in such a way, that she appeared to have an angelic aura. When she lowered her eyes, she reminded him of their high school days when they first had started dating; she was so uncertain in those days. He knew at that moment that he was her protector and when he was with her, nothing else in the world existed. Their love was straight out of classic textbook lore; he, the proverbial football player, and she, the proverbial cheerleader were inseparable as sweethearts. No one else on campus ever interfered with them. They had eyes only for each other. Gazing at her now beside him at the table, Chris fell in love with her all over again. As if acknowledging, Honey looked deeply into his eyes, smiled, and gently placed her hand on his thigh. For the moment they were lost again in their own world. Alma was a noble woman; she never talked condescendingly or dealt with people in a patronizingly superior manner. Her first love was horses. Her grandfather—a gentle man—taught her to ride and care for horses. He gave her a pony that she named Dolly when she was six years old. She and her grandfather used to pack lunches and ride their horses down to the creek on those slow lazy days during summer vacation and spend the entire day fishing, reading poetry to each other and finally, before going back home, swimming. The horses were allowed to graze freely in the rich pastures of western Massachusetts. There was a plum tree right in the middle of the pasture and when the plums were ripe, her grandfather used to hold her horse while she stood up in the saddle and picked the sun-soaked plumpest and juiciest plums from the top of the tree. If she found one she thought especially delicious, she would shout, "Heads up!" and toss it down to her grandfather. These were the happiest days of her life. These outings with her grandfather were to form the foundation of her moral education and beliefs. He was her hero. She listened rapturously to every word he said. He taught her that the most important thing in her life is her honor. He instilled in her the supreme value of learning and practicing social graces. "You may be as broke as The Commandments, to coin a phrase," he used to say, "But if you have class, if you have honor, if you have self respect, even in the face of unimaginable disaster, you'll have the respect of the world. There will always be those who will be jealous and envious of you, and they may hate you, but if you are honest, they will always respect you. You must never, never betray someone who has put his trust in you. Never! "Remember, Alma," he used to say, "you are the product of the love of your forefathers and your foremothers. Their blood is what courses through your veins today. You are their legacy, their hope for eternity. Everything you will ever do in your life is a direct reflection on those great men and women who went before you. You, and your children and their children must be taught the value of blood, heritage and honor. When I am gone, and when your parents are gone, it will be your responsibility to carry the family torch. He set up a trust for her when she was born to ensure her education and social standing in Boston society. She was enrolled in the exclusive Miss Bradley's Finishing School for Girls where her skills in social etiquette were polished to the highest degree possible. When the time came for her to go to college, her trust had matured into more than five million dollars, a handsome sum, indeed, in those days. Sadly, her grandfather didn't live long enough to witness the development of Alma into the brilliant young woman she became. She vowed at his graveside that neither he nor any of her ancestors would ever be given reason to be ashamed of her. "I promise," she whispered. Graduating summa cum laude from Wellesley, when she accepted her diploma, she secretly glanced heavenward, and pretending to have something in her eye, tearfully whispered, "Thank you, Grandfather." Alma: Latin for soul. In all the years that they had been married William (Alma refused to call him Bill) had never seen his wife, publicly or privately, commit a social faux pas. How appropriate her name, he thought. Proving herself to be a dedicated wife and mother, Alma had gone on to instill the same code of ethics in her son Eric and his son Alaric. It never ceased to amaze Bill how a woman possessed of such intense beauty, grace and poise could give birth to such a robust son who developed into the supreme athlete he became. He was a handsome young man, masculine, full of wonder and wild male animal instincts. His mother was his strongest ally and staunchest supporter. She never missed any of his games, be it soccer, basketball, football, baseball or track. But she also saw to it that his interest in the arts, theatre, music and books was as strong as his interest in sports. She encouraged him to do the very best he could in anything he undertook. By the time he entered junior high school, in addition to physical education and sports, Eric was already proficient in piano, the saxophone, the violin and the baritone and had at least a working knowledge of the flute and the clarinet. She never lost patience with him and she never berated him. She saved her applause until they were alone. Eric saw it, and he felt it, and those times he stumbled or his team lost, she was his most enthusiastic fan and supporter. She never let him give up, but she never pushed him harder than he could walk. She never forced him to do anything he did not show an interest in. If he did not want to do something that she felt he should experience, she had ways of feeding his natural curiosity until he found it interesting. She insisted that he have a well-rounded education. She never once doubted her methods or questioned her resolve. She and William succeeded magnificently in instilling in their son a lust for life that would have made her grandfather in Heaven beam with approval. Oftimes she wished that he could see his great-grandson. And when Eric chose the woman who would later become his wife, nobody could have been happier or more pleased with his choice than Alma. Eric and Belinda. Their wedding was perfect. She had personally seen to that. To Belinda's surprise, she became friends with Alma. This formidable woman who insisted on perfection, was surprisingly easy to love. Alma's teachings, and those of her grandfather and her grandfather's father had been successfully passed down to another generation. And now Eric was passing the torch to his son. Then came the hammer of God. William handed her the paper folded to the headline: COUPLE KILLED BY DRUNK DRIVER: Eric Adams and his wife Belinda were killed in a head-on collision last night at 10:45. The driver of the other car which crossed the median and crashed into opposing traffic, had been driving without a license. He was cited and arrested for driving while intoxicated. It was his fifth citation for driving while intoxicated in the last thirteen months... She was unable to read any further. The print became blurred and then focused again and then blurred again. She thought about the day Eric was born. This baby that she had carried inside her for nine glorious months, this baby that she had breathed life into, this beautiful boy, that she had nurtured and personally protected from the perils of the world, this boy who developed into the man she, herself, had prepared to face life's harshest realities head on, this man, her life, her reason for being, her claim to eternity, this man, of whom she had been so very, very proud, this unflawed human specimen, this paragon of masculinity, in one second had his life and the life of his wife snuffed out by a drunk driver. Eric and Belinda were buried in the Adams crypt in Boston. It was a closed-casket double funeral. The bodies had been too mangled to prepare for viewing. How she managed it, William could not begin to fathom. She oversaw every aspect of the funeral down to the smallest detail. And everything went perfectly. As William wept openly, Alma remained stoic. She masked her anguish behind her veil. When they returned home after the funeral, Alma said that she was going to lie down for a few minutes and would William forgive her. William didn't realize it until he went upstairs to go to bed that Alma was not in their bed, but had gone into Eric's old room and closed the door. He didn't disturb her, but late that night he heard her sobbing uncontrollably in Eric's bed. His heart ached for his wife, but he knew her well enough to know that she would not want to be around him or anyone else right now. His eyes burned with tears as he lay alone in their bed listening to his wife crying and begging God to bring Eric back. Three days later Alma still had not come out of Eric's room. She knew that William was there; he would always be there for her. But she was beyond help now. William lay awake in their bed night after night listening to his lovely wife weeping and moaning in abject agony. And still he could not help her. He could only wait. Wait and hope. Alma knew that she was dying, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid. For the first time in her life, she didn't know what to do. For the first time in her life, she simply gave up. She talked to God. She talked to Eric. She talked to her grandfather, "Oh, Grandfather, I've let you down," she sobbed. "I just can't go on. I have no reason, now, to go on living." Just at that moment she heard a knock on her bedroom door. "Please don't bother me, now, William," she said. "Grandma?" To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler August 23, 2002 Chapter Four—Continued •HIDDEN COVENANT—Continued •Release 14 "Dom Pérignon," William said to the waiter, "all the way around." "And will the young Miss be having another Coke?" The waiter asked. "No. I want dome perry own, too," Megan said. "Hush, child," Lucille said to Megan, "I'll give you a taste of mine when I get it, but I warn you, you won't like it. How about a Shirley Temple?" "Who's Shirley Temple?" Megan asked. Chris smiled, and said, "The young Miss will have a Shirley Temple." After the waiter had poured the champagne and left, Lucille handed Megan her glass to taste. Megan took a gulp, made the most hideous face imaginable, and sneezed into Lucille's glass, blowing champagne everywhere. "Megan!" Honey said. Now what do you say?" "Excuse me, please." Then to her dad, "I don't like that dome stuff, it tickles your nose." Everybody laughed. As if on cue, the waiter appeared with a Shirley Temple for Megan and a fresh glass for Lucille. And even though he knew it was unprofessional, he couldn't keep from smiling, "On the house," he said. Chris looked at Megan and winked. "I'd like to propose a toast," Bill said lifting his glass in his right hand and holding Alma's hand with his other one. "Here's to you, Alaric. We know you can't hear us at the moment, or maybe you can, who knows? But no matter where you are, I know for a fact that you're somewhere this side of Heaven, and whatever it takes, we will get you back. Don't give up, son. We won't. You have the word of your grandmother and your grandfather on that. Your grandmother and I will never leave you. You don't realize that you mean everything in the world to us. Come back to us, son. Please. They clinked glasses and drank. Alma had something in her eye. "I'd like you to do me a favor, Chris," Bill said, "if you would, please." "Anything," Chris said. "Alma made arrangements to have Alaric moved into a private room today. She's also asking them for a bed for herself, so that while she's keeping vigil she can get some rest. She's thinking about hiring a private nurse to sit with Alaric when she's resting. She doesn't want him to be alone, even for a minute, just in case he shows some sign of coming around." "That's a wonderful idea!" Honey said. "Use the dog," Lucille said, matter-of-factly. "What? What's that?" Bill asked. "The dog knows," Lucille said. William looked at her for a moment without saying anything. Then, shaking his head, he said, "You must be reading my mind." "I'm sorry, Mr. Adams, I should not have said anything" Lucille responded. "No, Lucille, you've nothing to apologize for, and, please, call me Bill. It's uncanny, but that was exactly what I was going to discuss with Chris." "You mean Rags?" Chris asked. "His name really ain't Rags," Megan said. "His name really isn't Rags," Honey corrected. "That's what I just said, Mama," Megan said, frowning. Honey just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the conversation with Bill, Chris and Lucille. Alma was listening carefully to what they were discussing. "The day after Alaric was admitted," Chris said, the head nurse, Miss Morgan, told me that he kept calling for Rags." "She told me the same thing," Bill said, "If there are any signs of life at all, she would have noticed. She doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who would give false hope to anyone." "I agree," Alma interjected. "I've watched her with Alaric, changing the linen and bathing him. She talks to him just like he's listening. And I firmly believe that she believes he hears her. She doesn't talk baby talk to him, and I know it may sound strange, but somehow I get the feeling that Alaric likes her." "Suppose," Bill continued, "Suppose you were to bring Rags up to Alaric's room tomorrow, Chris? Do you think you can?" "I know I can," Chris said, "I've got the next three days off." "Good. It's settled, then. I'll see you and Rags in the morning." They all clinked their glasses and drank to Alaric and this time they included Rags. The rest of the evening was spent in light conversation. The Dom Pérignon kept flowing throughout the dinner. When everybody had finished eating, Alma motioned for the waiter and ordered a medium rare filet mignon cut into bite sized pieces and a bottle of imported mineral water to go. She also asked the waiter to put two china soup bowls in the package with the filet mignon and the water. She asked Chris if he would mind. "No way!" Megan said. "Can I feed it to him, Mrs. Adams?" "Of course, you may, and Megan, would you give Rags a big hug for me?" "Yes Ma'am!" When they got back to the limousine, Megan placed one of the dishes on the floor and fed the superb entrée—one bite at a time—to Rags. Honey poured the water into his other bowl and patted him on his head as he drank. And for the first time, Rags enjoyed a meal fit for a king from his matching brand new bowls made of fine English bone china that Alma had bought just for him. "A fancy restaurant like that didn't have any kosher hot dogs?" Chris smiled. Miss Morgan was a heavy-set woman dedicated to her profession. She insisted on wearing a starched white dress uniform when she was working. She never wore pants uniforms that all the nurses wear nowadays. Sometimes she wore a smock over her dress, if it was chilly, or if she was pulling a double shift. When she didn't wear panty hose, she kept a can of baby powder in the bottom drawer of her desk to powder her legs in order to keep her thighs from becoming chafed and chapped from rubbing together and creating a heat rash, what with all the walking she did. She thought heavy-set women walking around with their pants bunched up between their thighs looked ridiculous. She also insisted on wearing her nurse's cap. She was the head nurse and she knew what she was doing. She was qualified as an R.N., N.P., or P.A., and could legally use any of those titles after her name if she so chose. She chose none. She may have had the appearance of a rather gruff woman, but all her years spent in the medical field had never hardened her to the realities of human suffering, and seeing others like Alaric made her wish that she had gone on to become a doctor. She was especially compassionate to coma patients and took a special interest in them, believing in her heart that somehow, someway they could be reached, and given the right external stimuli at the right time, she believed, would respond. She could easily have ordered someone of lesser rank to take care of Alaric, but she insisted on doing it herself. Coma patients were her forte. She studied them. She talked to them as if they were conscious. She tried in vain to discover where they go when they leave the conscious state. Do they think? What do they think? Do they really hear someone talking to them? If they hear someone talking to them, do they want to respond, but can't? Are they in Heaven or Hell, or somewhere in between? Alma adored her. Miss Morgan brought her something special for lunch that she had prepared, herself, in her own kitchen, jokingly saying, "This hospital food is ‘to die for,' and you probably would, too, if you ate it." Alma lent a hand when Miss Morgan had to turn Alaric over or change the linen. "I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist said to Chris," dogs are not allowed in the hospital unless he's a seein'-eye dog or a hearin'-aid dog or one of them what'cha call-ums, health dogs." Chris was not in his uniform. "This is only for an experiment. We want to take him to Mr. Adams' room." "I don't care who you are, sir, dogs are not allowed in this hospital. We have enough diseases as it is without a dog bringing his dog diseases in here too. If he's sick, take him to see one of them veterans. They know all about workin' on sick dogs. "But the dog's not sick, ma'am. He doesn't need to see a veteran, I mean veterinarian, I just want to take him to see...," Chris didn't get to finish. "SECURITY!" The receptionist shouted. Chris took Rags back out to the car and went back to Alaric's room by himself. Alma and Bill were already there. Earlier that morning Alma had briefly told Miss Morgan what they had planned to do. Miss Morgan thought it was a brilliant idea. When Chris told them what happened at the front desk, Alma was crestfallen. Rags, waiting downstairs in Chris' truck vainly tried to contact Alaric. "Don't give up, yet," Miss Morgan said, "All is not lost. I have a plan. It's a little tricky, but I think we can pull it off. If you are willing. I think it's worth a try." "What do we have to lose?" Alma asked. As soon as she said that, she remembered a quotation of John Dryden: For those whom God to ruin has design'd, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind. "First of all, Mrs. Adams, would you mind postponing hiring a nurse? When you hear my plan, you'll understand why." Well, of course, Miss Morgan," Alma answered. "And, please, call me Alma." "Only if you agree to call me Mona," Miss Morgan said. "Mona! Mona Morgan. What a lovely name." "We'll need about six people to pull this off, maybe seven," Mona said. "Do you know six people, including yourselves, whom you can trust implicitly?" She placed special emphasis on the last word, "And would they be available the morning of the day after tomorrow? It'll take me that long to get everything in order." "If there isn't much physicality involved," Chris said, "I'm pretty sure I can count on Lucille. And if it isn't too complicated, Megan can help." "And Mrs. Colt?" Alma asked. "Honey loves intrigue;" Chris said, "count her in." Perhaps it was because of the way the venetian blinds were tilted, or maybe it was because the day was one of those scaldingly brilliant, white days, or maybe it was because they were too deeply involved in their scheme to notice, but only Rags, watching from the window of Chris' truck three stories below, saw the nebulous dusky cloud with the mustard colored eyes quietly peering into the hospital room. There's an old saying: The devil is in the details. Rags shook. Mona, in her white polished nurse's shoes, quietly walked across the room and closed the door. And that's how four outstanding personages, each with hitherto utterly unblemished records, became willing participants in an extremely dangerous conspiracy. And without any of them realizing the full consequences of their actions, would draw another three innocent people into it as well, including a five year old girl. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler August 30, 2002 •Chapter Four—Continued •HIDDEN COVENANT—Continued •Release 15 The first thing Chris did was stop by the highway patrol headquarters and put in for a two-week vacation. Following that, he had to go to the hardware store and purchase a few things for the next day. He picked up Lucille on his way home but didn't mention the plan to her until they got home. Honey was out in the back yard where she had taken Ruben the gardener a glass of iced tea. Ruben was already busy installing the chicken wire around the bottom of the fence to keep the snakes out. "Rags!" Megan cried, when she saw him. Rags came bounding out to greet her. "Keep him on his leash, Megs," Chris said, "until Ruben finishes." "Okay, Daddy, Can we take him for a potty-walk?" "In a few minutes, Sweetheart. Right now we're all going to gather around the dining room table and have a little secret talk." "You sound so mysterious," Honey said. Honey was more excited than the rest of them. They all gathered around the table and listened, interrupting only to ask a question regarding the plan. Under the table, Rags listened as well. "Megan," Honey said, "bring Rags over here to mommy. Chris, put him on top of the table for me, please. I didn't take four years of home economics at A.U. for nothing! Hold him for me Chris, so he won't fall off while I go get my tape measure. It's been so long since I cranked up that old Singer sewing machine. Are you going to the pet store now? "As soon as you finish measuring Rags and I call William to see if he's ready." "A couple of nylon leashes should be enough." One's enough," Chris said. "Better get two, Chris, it's been a long time since I did any sewing." "Can I come too, Daddy?" "You bet, Sweetheart." "I have to make a call to my nephew," Lucille said, "he owes me more than one favor," Chris called William and told him that he was on his way. "I'll meet you at the hospital," William said. At the hospital William, Chris, Megan and Rags walked around the grounds pretending to be taking Rags for a walk, but all the while they were mentally making rough measurements. William had rented a car and parked it on the dividing line in the parking space directly under Alaric's window. With both parking spaces "reserved," they put Rags in Chris's truck with the air conditioner on, and went up to Alaric's room. William asked Alma whether maintenance had come in, yet, to dislodge the window. It had been painted so many times over the years, it was sealed shut. "We ran into a little resistance at first, but Mona took care of it. When she talks, people listen. It should be open by this afternoon," Alma said. "How's our grandson?" "It's about time for his bath," Mona said, walking into the room. "So, if you don't mind, gentlemen, you and Megan are going to have to scoot. Why don't you go with them Alma, and get something to eat. Alaric will be okay." "No. No. I'll stay and help." "Thank you." William, Chris and Megan left. Mona started by cleaning Alaric's head wound while Alma looked on. "It's going to leave an enormous scar," Alma said. "It'll just add to his rugged good looks. With them locks, he can cover most of it." Alma prized open his eyelids and looked deep into the emptiness that had at once reflected so much wonder, curiosity, mystery and awe. And the blood of his ancestors. "It can't stop here, God. It just can't. Please God, please," she prayed out loud, "please bring him back." Weeping, she leaned over and kissed his wound. "I'm afraid I have something in my eye, Mona. If you will excuse me, please." "Sure. Here's a tissue," Mona said, handing her a box of Kleenex. "I think I have something in my eye, too. We'll get him back, Alma. Don't worry. He's on the side of the angels." Alma held Alaric's hair back out of the way while Mona cleaned and bandaged the wound. "It's healing nicely," Mona said. She got a pan of warm, soapy water and removed Alaric's covers. Working without speaking again, the two women bathed him. Mona talked continuously as she scrubbed, "Where's your girlfriend, Alaric? I can call you Alaric, can't I? Good-lookin fella like yourself, I know you got a girl somewhere. Where is she hiding? You got her hid away somewhere, I'll bet. Don't tell me you just broke up with her. You didn't break her heart, now, did you? Is she waiting for you to come back to Santa Monica? I'll bet you have them California girls tripping all over themselves, just hoping you'll give 'em a second glance. What's her name? Come on, Alaric, 'fess up! You can't keep it a secret forever. I'll get it out of your grandma, if you don't tell me." Alma smiled. "He was going with a really sweet girl named Susan, but something happened. They're still friends as far as I know, but I don't know anything beyond that." Instead of a man, the maintenance person was a woman. Despite the heat, she wore faded denim coveralls and steel toed construction boots. She came in and slammed her carpenter's tool box down so hard it startled Mona and Alma. "Take it easy, Tina," Mona joked, "Are you trying to wake up our coma patient here?" Alma smiled. "Sorry," Tina said. "I didn't think they could hear anything." Then turning to Alma, she said, "I'm sorry Mrs. Adams. Sometimes I get a little carried away. Everybody here has heard about your son, and we're all praying for him. I sure hope you can save him." After that she worked steadily on the window, paying no attention to Alma and Mona, until she finished. Because of the patient, Mona wouldn't allow her to use any solvents, making it that more difficult to get the job done. She finally got the window un-stuck, but she had to use a hammer and chisel to do it. Before she left, she showed Mona how easy it was, now, to open and shut. She put paraffin wax in the runners so that the window would easily slide up and down. After they had changed Alaric's sheets Mona checked the window to reassure herself that it would open and shut without any trouble. She waved at William, Chris, Megan and Rags who all four just happened to be looking up at her. She motioned that it was okay for them to come back in. They left Rags in the truck and came back up to Alaric's room. William asked the standard question, "How's he doing?" Alma gave the standard answer, "About the same. Mona and I gave him a bath a while ago, and changed his bandages and linens. "I hope we didn't forget anything," William said. Mona walked into the room, and said to Alaric, "How's my boy? You better wake up fella, all the pretty girls aren't getting any younger, you know." "Mona," William said, "what is on the two floors directly beneath us?" "I checked it out this morning, just to make sure," she said. "The nurse's lounge is located on the first floor, and the ward for mental patients is on the second floor." Then to Chris, "Did Lucille have any luck?" "I'll call and see." "Would you get that, please, Lucille?" Honey asked. "I'm right in the middle trying to thread this bobbin." "I checked with Diondre," Lucille told Chris. "He has the graveyard shift all this week. 11:45 until 6:45." Diondre was Lucille's nephew. He was just starting his own security guard company, but still had to do a full shift himself, until he got the business built up. He had won the security account at Woodville Regional by low bidding. He wasn't making much, but it was a start, and he could always use that account as bragging rights, springboarding into more lucrative jobs. And with his aunt helping out, he knew he would make it. She helped him without question every time he asked, and each time he vowed to repay her with interest. She had no doubt but that he would. She had more confidence in him than he, himself, had. Most of the time he found himself working seven days a week. "But," his aunt Lucy had taught him, "a man who works for himself has the most demanding boss in the world." At first he balked at what his aunt was suggesting, but she told him that she would be there with him, and if anything went wrong, she would take full blame. He knew he would never let his aunt take full blame for anything. If it hadn't been for her, he would never have even gotten a college education. William, Alma, Chris and Mona synchronized their watches. "I'll set Honey's and Lucille's watches when I get home," Chris said. Chris stopped by the pet store on his way home and picked up a couple of nylon leashes, some hooks and some "D" rings. "Oh good," Honey said, opening the package, "You got two of them. Put him up on the table for me. Megan, honey, can you come over here and hold Rags for mommy?" Lucille went into the kitchen and began preparing that evening's meal. She would spend the night at the Colt's. William answered the phone in Alaric's room and Chris told him that Lucille's nephew, Diondre would be working the graveyard all this week. "I'll call you back," William said. About an hour later William called and asked Chris whether 4 AM would be all right. "Then it's set," Chris said, "4 AM." The rest of the day was spent repeatedly going over the plans and making sure no stone was left unturned. "I haven't had this much fun," Lucille laughed, "since Juanita went public and told the newspaper that if them men didn't start giving her child support for them 8 babies she had, she was going to tell their wives. She's well off now." At 2:30 AM the "cathedral bells" feature of the electric alarm clock started chiming the tune: Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping? Chris hated that alarm clock, but Honey loved it. hearing the alarm, Honey sat straight up in bed and pulled down her blindfold, "Hurry up, Chris," she said, "Come on. We don't have much time." Chris jumped up and got in the shower and Honey went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, but Lucille had already beat her to it. Lucille was frying the bacon and eggs and Honey asked if Lucille would like for her to make the toast. "Is Megan awake?" Lucille asked. "Not yet, I'd better go get her up." Honey found Rags and Megan both sound asleep. Megan had wrapped her arms around Rags and both of them had their heads on Megan's pillow. Honey ran and got her camera. The flash woke up Rags, who woke up Megan with angelkisses. Megan grabbed her pillow and started hitting Rags with it. Rags started barking and leaping on and off the bed. While the two of them frolicked around, Honey continued to take pictures. Megan was giggling as loud as she could while Rags furiously gave her angelkisses. Hearing all the commotion, Chris came into the room and joined in the fray. "There's far too much happiness in this house," Chris said. Honey called Lucille and asked her to sit between Chris and Megan. Rags jumped into her lap. Honey snapped more pictures. Then Lucille told Honey to sit down and Rags jumped into Honey's lap. And everybody was wrestling and frolicking and laughing and taking turns with the camera until it ran out of film. Only the glare of the flash on the window pane prevented the camera from filming the two yellow eyes that were observing the merriment in the house of Colt. Years from now these very pictures which Honey had placed in her picture book would become lost and later forgotten. After many decades of collecting dust in the attic Megan would run across them and take them to a photographer. She would have the pictures carefully restored to their original luster. She would have them framed and displayed in a place of honor above the mantle. They were destined to become the most valuable treasure Megan would ever possess. And none of them ever noticed the common thread linking them all together. In every single picture Rags was giving someone an angelkiss. To be continued... RACE AGAINST TIME - - Chapter five David Butler September 6th 2002 •Release 16 It wasn't because Old Zeke was the oldest patient in the hospital, and it wasn't because he was the one most in need of prolonged medical attention, and it wasn't because he was the most likable patient in the hospital, and it wasn't because he was the grandson of the founders of the hospital. It was because he had more longevity and seniority in the men's ward for the mentally disturbed more than anything else, plus he had VA medical coverage, and that counted for something at Woodville Regional. Besides, everybody was used to him by now, and he didn't pose a threat to anyone but himself. He was a retired boatswain from the Navy and still used nautical terms in his everyday speech. He called the hospital "the ship," the rest room was "the head," the floor was "the deck," the bed was "the bunk" and the window was "the porthole." Over the years Old Zeke had been in and out of Woodville Regional so many times, they just reserved the bed by the window specially for him. Placing him next to the window also served another purpose; it was semi-isolated so that the other patients weren't as close to him and couldn't be disturbed as easily. The only place he felt really safe since retiring from the Navy was in his bunk next to the porthole in the men's ward for the mentally disturbed of Woodville Regional. Over the years Old Zeke had used and abused drugs, alcohol, marijuana and tobacco so much that it had literally fried his brain and turned it to mush. When the nurses dispensed medication to the other patients, they had to stand there and make sure everybody took his, or Old Zeke would quickly run up and snatch it and swallow it before anybody could stop him. He was convinced that extraterrestrials were invading the desert and snatching the bodies of American citizens. The aliens entered the bodies through the nostrils, but could only do it while they slept. Understandably, then, he was afraid to go to sleep. On some occasions he would consume enough methamphetamines, cocaine and tequila to keep him awake for up to five days. It was times like these his hallucinations would peak and he would burst into the hospital shouting, "They're coming! They're coming! They're HERE!" demanding to be admitted into the hospital. The staff just automatically gave him sedatives and wheeled him to his favorite spot in front of the porthole in the psycho ward. His stays, however, were becoming more frequent and more lengthy and more and more the attendants found it necessary to restrain him to prevent him from injuring himself. Sleep was the only way he could escape his demons, and he couldn't go to sleep because that's when the aliens would come to snatch his body. His bouts with paranoia and delusions of persecution were so common that nobody thought it in any way out of the ordinary when just this last week he began talking about a pair of big yellow eyes peering in at him through his favorite porthole. At 3:45 Chris, Rags and Megan rode into the Woodville Regional Hospital's parking lot in Chris's truck. Honey and Lucille were right behind him in the minivan. William and Diondre greeted them as they got out of their cars. "Here," William said, handing each of them a combination cell-phone/walkie-talkie. "Just in case," he said, "Alma and Mona already have theirs." Chris made sure the apparatus that Honey made was firmly and properly placed on Rags, talking to him all the while and testing it by lifting him up and down. "Don't be afraid, fella. I've never let you down, yet, have I?" "Not yet," Rags said, shaking. Then realizing what he had done, he bowed his head. Lucille looked at Rags. "Have courage, little one," she said, silently. "Remember your quest." Rags did not acknowledge, but Lucille knew that he had heard and understood both Chris and her. Still, saying that did nothing to alleviate his fear of being pulled three stories straight up in the air without a net. He wished they had taken him for a potty-walk before hooking him up in this contraption. As if reading his mind, Chris quickly removed the apparatus and took him for a quick walk on the side of the parking lot. "Whew!" Rags thought. And nuzzled up to Chris's big strong arms for which he was most grateful. Time was running out, now. Lucille, Honey and Megan walked around to the front of the hospital and went inside. Diondre went to the security office where he would see nothing. Chris ran up the back stairs to the third floor taking them two at a time. Mona was sitting in front of the computer going over the daily job tasks and winked at him as he passed the nurse's station. Alma was waiting with Alaric. Chris went straightaway to the window and looked down to see William and Rags waiting directly below. He checked his watch. It was precisely 4 AM. He dropped the line down to William. William hooked Rags to the end of the rope and Chris started pulling him up. Promptly at 4 AM Lucille went to the main desk asking to see the security guard. As the clerk on the front desk was busy paging the guard, Honey and Megan casually walked to the elevators. Old Zeke looked up just in time to see Rags zip by. "A flying dog!" he shouted. "I just saw me a flying dog!" "Yeah," Bernie, the man in the bed next to him, said. "I suppose next you'll be seein' them yella eyes flying around out there again, too." "I seen ‘em, too" Sam said. Sam occupied the bed on the other side of Bernie. "I seen ‘em, only they's green!" "They's yella, you colorblind old fool," Old Zeke said. Suddenly the rope started slipping and Rags dropped about ten feet before Chris could stop it. He wrapped the rope around his leather-gloved hand and started pulling Rags up again. William was watching from below and was ready to catch Rags in case he fell. "THERE GOES ANOTHER ONE!" Zeke shouted. "I SAW THAT ONE MYSELF! THERE'S FLYING DOGS OUT THERE!" Bernie shouted. "Must be a hurricane," Sam said. "They say cows can fly when hurricanes come." "They ain't no hurricanes in no desert," Bernie said. "LOOK!" Sam said. "There's them green eyes Old Zeke's been a-seein'! I'm getting outta here!" "Them eyes ain't green, you old fool, they's yella!" "Don't you call me no fool, fool. Them eyes are green!" Rags zipped by the window again on the way back up. This time everybody saw him. THERE GOES ANOTHER ONE! RUN! "It's a tornado! Run! Run! Run for your lives!" Old Zeke said. "I think I saw a cow go flying by!" Bernie said. "I didn't see the cow. Is she gon'na fly back by?" Sam asked. "She might. Keep your eyes open." "Not me, I'm getting outta here, now!" Honey accidentally got off the elevator on the second floor instead of the first, and with Megan pretending to be unconscious in her arms, burst through the doors of what she believed was the nurse's lounge, shouting, "HELP! HELP! IT'S MY BAYBAY! SAVE MY BAYBAY!" The men in room 2013, already in an agitated state of confusion, panicked and stormed out the door almost knocking Honey and Megan down, shouting, "RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" "What's going on?" Honey asked. "Where are the nurses?" "You're in the wrong place, lady. This is the men's psycho ward; you're looking for the women's psycho ward down the hall!" "They's all gone! Either the tornado got ‘em or that thang with the green eyes got ‘em!" Sam shouted. "Them eyes are yella, ma'am. Run! Run to the basement. The hurricanes can't get you in a basement!" Bernie said. "It's a tornado, ma'am! Deserts don't have tornados, I mean hurricanes." Sam shouted over the confusion. Just then Bernie realized that he was hooked up to an IV. "Help me!" He shouted, "I can't get it unplugged!" Honey ran over to help Bernie unplug his IV bottle. "I can't get the needle out of my arm," Bernie said. Then to Honey, "Can you pull the needle out of my arm?" "No!" Honey said. "You'll have to take it with you." Bernie ran down the hall dragging the IV bottle and stand with him. "Save yourself lady. Save your baby!" Old Zeke said. "Here, give me the child." He grabbed Megan and started pulling Honey along with him. Someone pulled the emergency alarm and the commotion that had been limited to the second floor spread throughout the rest of the hospital. The men ran to the elevator dragging Honey and Megan along with them. "Don't take the elevator!" Honey shouted. "It might break down on the way down!" The first floor emptied onto the front lawn and parking lot while the second and third floor ambulatory patients poured down the stairs. The others had to wait for an attendant to wheel them out, and all the attendants were busy with patients in ER and ICU. Old Zeke saw the microphone at the nurse's station and shouted into it, "Now hear this! Now hear this! This is not a drill! Abandon ship! This is not a drill! Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship! Then as an afterthought, he added, "Everybody except the captain; that is, you're going to have to go down with her!" Going down the stairs, Bernie lost control of his IV stand and screamed as it tumbled down ahead of him, literally ripping the needle out of his arm. The hospital automatically switched over to emergency power and the city fire and police departments were automatically notified and were on their way. As William drove Chris's truck to a different parking spot he could hear the sirens getting closer and closer. He took his rented car and quickly exited the parking lot and drove back to the hotel. Someone on the hospital public address system kept blaring, "SECURITY! SECURITY! REPORT TO THE SOUTH PARKING LOT EMERGENCY TRIAGE!" The hospital staff was frantically wheeling the patients out of the hospital and into the parking lot. "What on earth is going on?" Diondre shouted. "Aunt Lucy what have you got me in to?" But Lucille had already left. By the time the police and firemen reached the hospital, the parking lot was full. "Where's the fire?" "In the hospital!" Someone shouted. The basement door had been bolted from the inside and the firemen had to literally break it down with fire axes to get inside. The first fireman inside saw Honey and Megan huddled together in the corner. Honey was trying to call Chris, but the wireless circuits were all busy. "Are you all right, ma'am?" The fireman asked. "I'm fine. I'm trying to call my husband, but I can't get a dial tone." The patients of the men's ward for the mentally disturbed of Woodville Regional were striking matches and walking around stooped over looking for something. "What are you guys looking for?" The fireman asked. "Did you bring the life jackets?" Old Zeke asked. "That fool captain doesn't have any life jackets down here in the hold." "Is it over?" Sam asked the fireman. "Is what over?" "The tornado, man, what do you think?" "Tornado?" "Hurricane. He means hurricane." "Hurricane?" "Don't listen to this old fool," Old Zeke said. "He thinks them big yella eyes are green." "They are green." "You colorblind old fool." "You sure you're all right ma'am?" The fireman asked Honey. "Just a little shook up," Honey said, brushing her hair off her forehead with her fingers. "My daughter had just passed out and I was taking her to the ER when the tornado hit." "There was no tornado, ma'am. Shall we take your daughter to ER?" "Oh no. She's fine, now." The fireman helped her up to the lobby and asked her if she was sure she didn't want to go to ER. She assured him that she was okay and walked out to her minivan where Lucille was already waiting for her. "Girl, put the petal to the metal," Lucille said, taking Megan, "and let's get outta this crazy place." Honey jumped behind the steering wheel of the minivan and peeled out of the parking lot on two wheels, leaving rubber at the gate. She broke every law in the book getting back home, and for the first time, Lucille did not object to her driving. The instant Rags felt his feet on the windowsill, he leapt into Chris's arms and started giving him angelkisses. Chris laughed. "Take it easy, fella." Mona was busy trying to calm everybody down on the third floor and reassuring the patients that there was no tornado, nor was there a hurricane (a first for the desert), nor was the ship—the hospital—sinking, and no, they did not need life jackets. But I need a tranquilizer, she said to herself. This is going to be one doozie of a day. Chris placed Rags on Alaric's bed and he and Alma removed the apparatus. Rags tried to give Alaric an angelkiss, but Chris put him back down on the floor before he could and led him over to Alma where she had his breakfast and a bowl of warm milk waiting for him. But Rags was not hungry; his mind was focused only on Alaric, and for the first time since that dreadful night when the fading fireflies on the screaming big red truck disappeared into the endless desert night, Rags was deliriously happy. "Alaric?" To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler September 13, 2002 Chapter Five—Continued RACE AGAINST TIME—Continued Release 17 — "I don't think she's got all her ducks in a row, if you ask me," Old Zeke said to the investigating officer. "Who?" Bernie asked. "The green-headed lady with the baby," Sam said. "Don't pay no attention to Sam, here, Officer," Old Zeke said. "He's colorblind. She was a yella-headed lady with a baby." "I didn't even see her ducks," Bernie said. "I did," Sam said, "They was green." "They was yella, you old colorblind fool," Old Zeke said. "She must'a broke outta the women's looney bin down the hall. That's where she came from. I don't know where she got that little girl, though." "Where did she go?" The officer asked. "Who knows? We took her and the baby down into the hold to save them from the tornado, then when the police came, they took her away." "The police took her away?" "Sure did." "In cuffs?" "Naw," Old Zeke said. "She had her arm around him. She might'a run out into the tornado and got sucked away with them flying dogs and cows," Bernie surmised. "And that thang with the big yella eyes. I didn't see her ducks, though, they must'a got sucked away with her. Pore thangs. If I was you, I'd be looking for her over in the next county. I heard about a rooster, once, that didn't light ‘til he got to Denver. I hope she didn't light in the Grand Canyon; she'd have something to do to hike outta there." "That thing with the green eyes might'a got her," Sam said. "Green eyes?" The officer asked. "Yella. Them eyes was yella, officer. Don't pay no mind to that old fool. He's colorblind." "I might be colorblind," Sam said. "But I ain't the resident looney." "Them was the most evilest-looking eyes you ever seen," Old Zeke said. Makes my skin crawl jest thinking about ‘em. Staring at me, like they was, through my porthole. Evil, they was." "She seemed like a nice lady, though," Bernie said, "She helped me unplug my needle bottle." "Yeah," Sam said, "She was nice; only she was about three sips short of a big gulp." "Well," the officer said, shaking his head, "if you can think of anything else, don't call me; just give the information to the head nurse, and she'll pass it along." "I sure will," Old Zeke said. "Let me know what happened to them pore little green ducks," Sam called after the officer.. "They was yella, fool!" Diondre pulled his pickup into Lucille's yard right up to the front steps and in two steps was banging on her front door with his fist. "Aunt Lucy," Diondre said. "I know you're in there, Aunt Lucy. You might as well open the door. I'm not leaving until we talk." "Why Diondre," Lucille said, opening the door. "I'm glad you showed up. I was hoping you would come by." "I'll bet you did," Diondre said, "Now I want some answers. You almost cost me the Woodville Regional account." "You didn't lose the account, did you?" "No. But no thanks to you. I've never seen so much chaos and confusion in my life. They say there's going to be an investigation. Now I want some answers, and I want them now." "Okay, but let's talk in the kitchen, so I can keep an eye on my baby-back ribs." "You cookin' baby-back ribs? Is that what I smell? Baby-back ribs?" "Been cooking 'em all day. They're just about ready. Now, sit down here at the table and ask your questions." She tore a small rib off the end of a rack and took it over to Diondre to sample. "Here," she said, handing it to him, "try this and let me know if it' okay." "Aunt Lucy!" This is the best rib I've ever tasted! They're ready, now!" "Before you start asking questions, let me check on my peach cobbler." "PEACH COBBLER? You cooking peach cobbler, too?" "Made with fresh Georgia peaches. Had ‘em flown in from Savannah just for my boy." "Flown in from Georgia? How?" "Internet. I got some left over for you to pack in your lunch." "Oh, Aunt Lucy!" Diondre said, "Can't nobody cook peach cobbler like you!" "That's what you say. Making my special rum-sauce to go with it, too." "NO!" "And mashed potatoes and gravy. And that's not all. Look here," Lucille said, opening the oven door. Diondre's eye's got as big as the peaches on the table in front of him. "BISCUITS!" "Made ‘em from scratch, like I always do." Lucille reached into the cupboard and took down a dinner plate. "Here," Lucille said, handing Diondre a plate of ribs. "Looks like you got here just in time." "Oh, Aunt Lucy, you're the best aunt a man ever had," Diondre said, lifting a rib to his mouth, "I'm going to give you a little extra toward the loan I owe you when I get all my invoices in at the end of the month. I love you." "Don't cut yourself short, son. Here, now, have one of these hot buttered biscuits fresh out of the oven. Diondre's eyes got even bigger. Lucille went to the refrigerator and poured him a tall glass of iced tea. I love you too, son. If I'm not mistaken," Lucille continued, "you're going to be off next Sunday. That right?" "That's right. Why?" "Well, I thought you might come over and enjoy some of my Southern fried chicken if you don't have anything better to do." "I sure will!" Diondre said, lifting another rib up to his mouth. "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about, son?" Diondre just shook his head. He was busy. Chris waited in the hospital room with Alma and Rags and Alaric until William got there. "I hear they had a little excitement around here this morning," William said, winking. "Just a little," Chris said. Alma smiled nervously. "I brought some newspapers. We'll just have to pick them up right after he uses it." "I'll take care of it, myself," Alma said. Chris excused himself and left, saying that he had to go home and check on Honey. Honey was waiting for Chris when he got home. "I hope you know I can never show my face again at that hospital. You told me I was going to the nurse's lounge. That was the looney bin you sent me to! I'll never forgive you for that, Chris. I was never so scared in my life, what with them alarms blasting and bells and sirens blasting in my ears, and all them crazy people screaming and running like a bunch of cr... lunatics!" "Where were you when the alarm went off?" "In the basement with all those crazy people. I was sweatin' like a heifer-in-heat in a pen full of three-year-old long-horn bulls. Then that kind policeman broke the door down and saved Megan and me." Chris was laughing so hard, he didn't have the heart to tell her that she had gotten off the elevator on the wrong floor. Megan, hearing her father, ran into the family room and jumped into his lap. "Daddy!" She shouted. "Oh, Daddy, how is Rags? Is he okay? Does he miss me? Can we go see him?" "No!" Honey said. "You're not going near that hospital again. I'm ashamed to show my face around there. I just hope nobody in town knows I was there." Then, placing the back of her hand across her forehead and extending her other hand, perhaps a little over dramatically, exclaimed, "Oh, I shall never be the same!" "Mommy is funny, Daddy," Megan said. "You should have seen her running down the st..." "Shut up, Megan. Daddy's not interested in that rubbish." "I'm always interested in what my little sweet pea has to say." Chris handed the morning newspaper to Honey. The headlines read: FALSE ALARM EVACUATES HOSPITAL Yellow Haired Lady With Baby Sought In Connection With Woodville Regional Debacle. Honey snatched the newspaper out of Chris's hand. Reading the headlines, she screamed so loud, she scared the snakes out of the back yard, if there had been any snakes in the back yard. "Look what you've done to me!" She shouted at Chris. "The POLICE are looking for me! They think I did that. Them crazy old men must've told them something. I should have left that old lunatic hooked up to the needle. I should have let that thing with the yellow eyes get him. What is that thing anyway? I'll NEVER be able to show my face around here again. We'll just have to move to Phoenix. No, somebody might recognize me in Phoenix. Los Angeles! A body can get lost in Los Angeles. They won't recognize me there." Chris turned on the television just in time to hear Sheriff Jackie-Bob Jackson say, "It's them outside agitators coming over here into our peace-loving county and stirring up all this trouble, and we won't rest until we catch that yellow-headed lady with the baby. She WILL be found and brought to justice. She can't get far. I've got an APB out for her. The Sheriff's Department will devote all its resources to finding that..." He hesitated for a moment, then said, "...lady." Honey screamed as she listen in disbelief to the television. She doubled up both her fists and started pummeling Chris's chest. "YOU HAVE MADE ME A FUGITIVE FROM THE LAW!" She shouted. Chris, laughing, put his arms around his wife and pulled her close to him. "It's not that bad. Remember, I'm the law, too." "Get away from me," she said, pushing him away. "Oh Chris, don't tell my mama. It would just break her heart knowing that her little girl is a criminal. L.A. is not far enough, we'll have to flee to Mexico. How far is the border? Darn! I KNEW I should have taken Spanish when I had the chance. Now, I'll have to learn it the hard way." "Bill and Alma want us to be with them tomorrow when they try the experiment," Chris said. "And I know you don't want to miss that." "You'll just have to go without me, I'll never be able show my face around this town again. The whole county is out looking for me. Oh, Chris, I don't want to go to jail. I'm too pretty to go to jail." "I want you with me when we try the experiment," Chris said, protectively pulling his wife back to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. You have to come with me. You're my wife!" "I have an idea," Honey said. Honey went to the phone and called Lucille. "Lucille? This is Honey." Honey listened for a minute. "Oh, I see you've already heard." "Everybody's heard. Girl, it's all over the television and the newspapers and the radio. Diondre told me that that's all they're talking about down at the truck stop." "I don't care what that riffraff at the truck stop talks about. Can you do me a favor, Lucille?" Honey asked. "Sure." "Would you please go to Wal-Mart and get me the blackest wig you can find." "A black wig?" "Yeah," Honey said. And a pair of the darkest sunglasses they have." Then defiantly glancing over her shoulder at Chris, added, "And pick me up a new muumuu while you're there. Oh, and one of them Spanish handbooks. I've got to learn Spanish in a hurry." "Okay," Lucille said. "How am I going to get to Wal-Mart's?" "Chris will pick you up in about an hour." Chris and Megan left to go pick up Lucille and then on to Wal-Mart. Watching them as they drove out of the driveway, Honey went to Chris's clothes closet and pulled out his trench coat. She tried it on, cinching it tightly around her waist. She tied the belt in a knot. She walked over to her vanity dresser, and seeing her reflection in the mirror, placed the back of her right hand to her forehead, and with her left hand extended out to her side, exclaimed, "Oh, I shall never be the same! Never!" Honey was given to exaggeration. To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler September 20th 2002 Chapter Five—Continued RACE AGAINST TIME—Continued Release 18 "Call Lucille," Honey said, towel-drying her hair after the shower, "and tell her not to eat breakfast. Tell her we are all going to have breakfast at the Velvet Creme." She sat down in front of her vanity dresser and started blow-drying her hair. "Can I bring Rags back home with me, Daddy?" "I'm sorry, honey. Rags won't be coming back with us. But I talked to Alma and she told me that she would get you any kind of puppy you wanted. Would you like a new puppy?" "No, I want Rags." "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. Rags is not ours." "Can't you buy him for me?" "I wish I could. I love him just as much as you, but there's not enough money in the world." "Write a check." Chris smiled. "But you'll get to see him when we get to the hospital." Honey emerged from the bedroom donned in a black wig and dark sunglasses, with Chris's trench coat on. "How do I look?" Megan laughed and said, "Oh, Mommy, you look like a ..." "Like an alluring femme fatale of great mystery," Chris interrupted before Megan could get any further. "They'll never recognize you." "You're sure?" "They'll never know that you're the infamous ‘yella-headed lady-with-a-baby,'" Chris chuckled. Honey told Megan to walk with her dad. "They'll never see this ‘yella-headed lady-with-a-baby' again. Even if I have to buy a CASE of black hair dye." They picked up Lucille and went to the Velvet Creme. The hostess seated them and they each ordered coffee for themselves and Chris ordered cocoa for Megan. As the waitress took their orders, Chris ordered pigs-in-blankets, Lucille ordered the ham and cheese omelette, and Megan ordered the old fashioned buttermilk pancakes. "I'll have the blueberry tart," Honey said a little too loudly. Everybody within earshot looked over at her. The waitress rolled her eyes. Chris coughed. After breakfast, as they were walking back to the minivan, Honey looked up at the sky and exclaimed, "It looks like it's clouding up." "Take off those sunglasses." "Oh." Lucille chuckled. When they arrived at the hospital, Honey walked behind the rest of them. Old Zeke had gone downstairs to the cafeteria and was waiting at the main elevators when they walked up. As they waited for the elevator, Old Zeke kept looking suspiciously at Honey, "Don't I know you?" He asked. "NO!" Honey said, then added, "No habla! No habla!" She pronounced it ha-bla. "You sure look famear," Old Zeke said. "I look what?" Honey asked. "Famear. You look famear." Honey turned her back to Old Zeke and said in a falsetto voice, "No habla! No habla!" The elevator doors opened and as soon as Old Zeke boarded, Honey jumped in front of Chris, Lucille and Megan and stopped them from getting on the elevator. "Mommy?" Megan said. "Shut up Megan!" "HA!" Old Zeke said as the elevator doors closed with him in the elevator. "You're the yella-headed-lady-with-a-baby!" Honey shouted back at Old Zeke, "No I'm not!" Then catching herself, said, "No habla! Can't you understand good English? I NO HABLA!" Chris and Lucille tried not to laugh. Honey hit Chris on his shoulder with her fist. "Shut up, Chris. This is all your fault." Waiting for the next elevator, Chris, smiling, put his arm around his wife and pulled her to him. "Come here, you," he said, and gave her a peck on her cheek. Everybody will think you're my other mysterious lover." "What other lover?" "My blonde temptress of the Nile," Chris said. "Blonde no more." "Blonde temptress of the Nile," Honey said. "That'll be the day. Thanks to you I look like the raven-haired floozie of the Pecos. God'll get you for this, Chris." As they entered the hospital room, Megan ran over to Rags, pulled a jumbo-sized kosher hot dog out of her pocket and fed it to him before anybody could say anything. When Rags had finished, he gave Megan an angelkiss. "Is that you, Honey?" Alma asked. "Yes. I'm incognito." "Oh, I see," Alma said. "This is my beguiling vamp. I'm gonna buy a dozen of those black wigs. I think she's after all those men down there on the second floor, again," Chris said, laughing. Honey hit Chris again with her fist, and said, "Shut up, Chris." Then to Alma, "Chris thinks this is all so funny, but I'm the one the sheriff is looking for." Chris put his arm around Honey and smiling, pulled her into his arms saying, "Come here my sweet little Mata Hari!" "God'll get you for this, Chris." "Am I late?" William asked, walking into the room. "Not at all," Alma said. Mona came in and asked if everybody was here, yet, and told them that she would make sure they weren't disturbed if they wanted to get started. Alma thanked her and Chris took Rag's leash off and put him on the bed facing Alaric. William raised the bed so that Alaric's head would be slightly elevated. Rags looked carefully around the room, studying each person. First there was Megan, sweet Megan; he must be very careful, though, for if she found out too much, even accidentally, it would be dangerous, and he would never do anything to place her in harm's way. He looked next at Chris—a man of extreme honor—to whom he literally owed his life, and would be forever in his debt. He loved Chris. He looked next at William and Alma, who loved Alaric at least as much as he. They never even questioned his love or loyalty. His eyes moved next to Lucille. Lucille was wise beyond what she wanted people to know, but Rags knew, and because he knew, he had to use special control over his powers when she was around. Standing next to Lucille was Honey. Chris's Honey. She tried not to let people know just how sensitive she really was, thinking they might misinterpret sensitivity as weakness. Nobody ever even suspected. Nobody, that is, except Chris. Honey thought that by pretending to be cold, coarse and unfeeling, she was masking her vulnerability. Secretly, though, she was the one most easily hurt. What Honey wanted more than anything in the world was to be loved. Truly loved. And even though she was, she was never quite sure. Rags was glad she had Chris. He looked last at Alaric. His Alaric. THE Alaric. Rags lay his head on Alaric's hand and closed his eyes in sheer rapture! An hour went by. Nothing happened. Another hour went by. Nothing happened. At noon, Alma suggested they all go to lunch and she would stay with Alaric. Chris put Rags back down on the floor at Alma's feet. Later when they returned, William brought lunch for Alma and Rags. After he finished eating, Chris put Rags back up on the bed. And again nothing happened. As night was approaching, Alma suggested they break for dinner and try again tomorrow. Chris agreed. She asked William to bring her a hamburger or something back. Chris took Rags down off the bed and hooked the leash to his collar and tied the other end of it to a hook inside the closet just in case someone came in, Alma could quickly close the door. He left enough slack in the leash to reach Alma. He could also see Alaric. William kissed Alma's cheek, and the party left for dinner. He couldn't help noticing signs of wear on his lovely wife's face. She's not getting enough rest, he thought. He had had a chaise lounge delivered that day so that she could relax more. "Order for me, Chris," Honey said. "I can't read the menu in this dim light." "Why don't you take off your sunglasses, my outré love goddess?" "Wait'll I finish eating. I don't want to go to jail on an empty stomach." Everybody laughed. "When this is all over," William said, "To show our appreciation, Alma and I want all of you to spend Christmas vacation with us on ‘The Belinda.'" "The Belinda?" Chris asked. "Our yacht. It's named after Alaric's mother. My brother George is with it at the moment, but traditionally all of us spend Christmas on it" "Where is it moored?" Chris asked. "In Hyannis Port?" "Monaco." "WOW!" Honey said. "We'll be there!" "Will Rags be there?" Megan asked. "Especially Rags," William said. "I was going to make sure all Rags's papers are in order for international travel, but I have a feeling Alaric will be taking care of that little chore himself." At the restaurant Chris turned to Honey and asked, "Do you think you can live without your buddies on the second floor for two weeks while we cavort all over the Mediterranean, my lovely woman of mystery?" "Shut up!" Honey said, and hit Chris again. "I can't read the menu, order me a steak. Rare." "To our friends," William said, raising his glass, "may they and we always remember these moments fondly." "Hear! Hear!" Honey said. William ordered a filet mignon, medium well, cut into small pieces for Rags and the full dinner for Alma. He requested special packaging. After dinner the limo dropped Lucille off, then the Colts; William started back to the hospital. Mona brought Alma a cup of coffee and sat down with her for a few minutes. "There is a room," she said, "on the first floor that is reserved for VIP's. When Alaric was first admitted, we had no idea he would be here this long. It used to be the office of the hospital chaplain, when we had a hospital chaplain. It has a small patio and a garden. If you are willing to pay the additional cost, I'm sure we can have Alaric transferred there. "We'll take it," Alma said. "How soon can we effect the transfer?" "I'll talk to Maintenance and have them get started on it right away. I'm sure it'll be ready sometime in the morning. I'm going to be going home in a few minutes. I'll come in early tomorrow to oversee everything. Unless you have any objections, I would like to continue to be Alaric's nurse." "Please do continue to be his nurse," Alma said. "I wouldn't want it any other way. How are we going to get Rags down there?" Alma asked. "We can't possibly repeat that disaster of a couple of days ago, or we'll ALL be wearing black wigs and sunglasses." "Can you picture me in a black wig?" Mona asked. "But girl, what I wouldn't give to swap places with Honey! I'd gladly be Chris's femme fatale any day! Oh, to be twenty years younger! I'd give Honey a run for her money." The two women laughed out loud. "Oh, Mona," Alma said. "We are so indebted to you." "You know?" Mona said. "You're the first friends I've had since Tom came into my life about 10 years ago." "Tom?" "He's my cat. A stray. He just showed up one morning on my doorstep. He knows a sucker when he sees one, so, he waited until I got attached to him and then he adopted me. I thought I would train him, but now I don't know who trained whom. He cries when he knows I'm going to be leaving and greets me at the door with purrs and pure love when I get back home. I don't know what I would do without him. He's yellow, about twice the size he should be, and rules the house!" Mona laughed. "I'd love to meet him," Alma said. "Maybe someday," Mona said. Alma held Mona's hand in both of hers, "We will never forget what you are doing for us. For Alaric." After Mona left the room, Rags came out of the closet and lay down beside Alma. Alma let her hand drop to Rags's shoulder and absentmindedly caressed his back as she watched over Alaric. She had something in her eye. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. I'm tired, she thought. I think I'll rest for a moment. With that she closed her eyes and instantly fell into a sound sleep. Rags never took his eyes off Alaric. Neither Rags nor Alma, however, saw the lemon-colored eyes in the dusky cloud peering at them through the closed window which was on the third floor of Woodville Regional. Alma woke up just before William came back into the room. She still had her hand on Rags's shoulder. When he saw how tired she was, William said, "Why don't you stay at the hotel tonight, Sweetheart? I'll stay with Alaric, and if there is any change I'll call you." William called Rags over to him and started to feed him. Suddenly Alma sat straight up in her chair, her eyes wide open, looking at Rags. "What's wrong?" William asked. "Did you come in while I was sleeping?" "No. I just walked into the room. Why? What's wrong?" Without answering, Alma went out to the nurse's station and asked Mona whether she had come into the room while she slept. "Not since we had coffee," Mona said. "I peeked in a couple of times, but you seemed to be sleeping so peacefully, I didn't have the heart to wake you." "What was Rags doing when you looked in?" "Just lying there by your chair looking at Alaric. You had your hand on his back, so, I didn't say anything. Why? What happened?" "I'll let you know..." Alma said. Then walking back into the room, she said to William, "I checked with Mona; she said that she didn't touch Rags and that nobody else was in the room." "Alma, will you tell me what happened?" William asked, "You look like you just saw a ghost." Alma sat down and called Rags to her. She sat for a moment looking him straight in the eye. She looked up at Alaric. Alaric had a look of sublime contentment—almost smiling—on his face. She could not possibly have missed that. She looked up at William, and a glimmer of hope came into her eyes. They noticed, Rags thought. They noticed. Nobody else would ever have noticed. These two, he thought, are extremely powerful. They are not only familiar with the powers of the universe, they know how to use it. After all, it was they who produced Eric who produced Alaric. "William, do you remember what Chris did just before you all left to go to dinner?" "Yes," William said. "He hooked Rags up to his leash and put him in the closet." "Look carefully at Rags, William," Alma said, "and tell me what you see." William looked at Rags. He thought for a moment. Then he looked at Alaric; then he looked back at Alma. "Oh my God!" He said. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler September 27, 2002 Chapter Five—Continued RACE AGAINST TIME—Continued Release 19 — "I distinctly remember Chris hooking his leash to his collar," William said. "Now it's hooked to his harness." "Exactly!" Alma said. "I did not leave him for a second. And even while I was asleep, I had my hand on him. It would literally be impossible for someone to come in here without waking me. You see, William," Alma continued, holding his hand, "I knew it. I just knew it! But why—how?" "I don't know. We'll have to give him more time. He needs privacy. He has to be able to concentrate without fear of interruption," William said. "Yes," Alma said. "Maybe after the transfer." "If we don't have any luck in the room downstairs, we might have to have him transferred to another hospital, William said." "Or the ranch. In Australia." "I'd rather keep him in the U.S. until he regains consciousness. Vail might be good for him. Especially during the summer months." "Oh, William," Alma said. "We're going to get our boy back. This is the best news we've had since the night of the accident." William stayed that night in the hospital room with Alma, sleeping on the chaise longue. To their knowledge nothing else out of the ordinary happened. When Mona arrived the next morning, Alma asked if she would watch over Alaric and Rags while they went to the hotel to shower and change clothes. Though no longer active in the firm, except on a consulting basis, William still maintained an office with a secretary he shared with Alma. The secretary's name was Marie. William called the office and asked Marie to send Alma's laptop. She asked how Alaric was doing and told him that George had been notified of the accident and was on his way. William thanked her. George was considerably younger than William, and after Alaric's parents were killed he became more like an older brother to Alaric. George was Alaric's hero. George Adams was the bon vivant of the family with an added touch of flair. His forte was criminal law. It was George who taught Alaric how to taste the finer things in life without becoming immersed in its tedium or mired in its demands. It was George who taught him to appreciate the full spectrum of the vineyard rather than one or two varieties. Having failed miserably at his first attempt at love, George remained a dedicated, but not unhappy, dyed-in-the-wool bachelor. No one ever asked him what happened and he never volunteered. Most of all, he was a gentleman. He was discreet. His affairs, though rumored to be considerable, were never open to discussion. If seen in public with a companion, one never knew whether he was entertaining, discussing a case with a client, or dating. Along with William, he was an equal partner in the venerable Adams law firm of Boston, having inherited it from their father, who inherited it from his father. He single-handedly directed some of the most high profile contemporary cases—both famous and infamous—to their successful conclusions. He never gloated, bragged or boasted, ironically sometimes actually feeling sorry for the losing counsel. On those occasions he would ask William or Alma whether he had been too hard on him or her and always sent him or her a bouquet of flowers and an invitation for dinner. He was a delight to watch in the courtroom. He was extraordinarily quick-witted and just when everybody thought he was losing, he would strike like a cobra, bringing the case to a speedy and dramatic conclusion. He was at his best when arguing a case and was especially adroit in the art of ambush. Several colleges, including Harvard, had campaigned heavily to hire him. He could take apart a prosecutor's case as easily as ravelling a sweater. He rather enjoyed playing the part of a clown. Invariably opposing counsel would forget that he was only playing the part of a clown. Equally at home in a tuxedo or levis, he was brilliant, but never arrogant. William told Alma that he had spoken to Marie and she was sending her laptop. He said that she told him George was on his way. Alma was relieved. She knew how close Alaric had been to George. They had breakfast at the Velvet Creme and returned to the hospital. Mona was waiting when they got back to Alaric's room. "Everything is ready for the transfer. The aides are waiting at the nurse's station for me to give the word. I don't know how we're going to get Rags down there, though." Mona said. "I do," Alma said. "Just give me a moment." She called Rags over to her and told him that he was going to have to be awfully still and quiet. She pulled Alaric's sheets down and spread his legs. William picked up Rags and placed him between Alaric's legs and Alma pulled the sheets back up to Alaric's chin. She put a few things on the bed on top of Rags and gave Mona the "all clear" sign. Mona motioned to Hank and Henry that the patient was ready to be transferred. She told Alma that she would meet her on the first floor at the elevators. The two men came and got the bed and wheeled it to the elevators. Alma rode the elevator down with Alaric and Rags. William stayed in the room and gathered the rest of the belongings. He had paid Hank and Henry an extra $20 each to transfer Alma's chaise longue. As soon as the elevator reached the first floor and the doors opened Hank and Henry burst out of the elevator almost knocking Mona down trying to get past her. "Run!" They shouted. They didn't stop until they reached the front desk. "What the...?" Mona asked. "Help me get the bed into the room, quickly," Alma said. "I'll tell you when we get there." The two women pushed the bed with Rags and Alaric into their new room on the first floor. Mona quickly reconnected all the tubes and bells that every hospital patient has to endure while Alma slipped Rags out onto the patio. Alma looked around, she found a shady spot and told Rags to stay put until they could get Alaric settled in. The ‘garden' was nothing more than a dusty square that had all the earmarks of having once had been a neat little yard. There was a small fountain in the middle, long since dried up. A six feet high cinder block wall enclosed the garden. Alma wondered whether she should hire a landscaper to repair the fountain and plant some grass and plants. If done up right, it would make a peaceful place to bring Alaric while he's recovering. Diondre came into the room and saw Mona and Alma talking. "Hank and Henry just ran out of the hospital," he said to Mona. "What happened?" "What did they say?" Mona asked. "They said that that coma patient they were transferring came alive and started growling at them, and his stomach ‘swoled' up so big, they thought it was going to explode all over them. They said they were never coming back in this hospital. They said there's too many crazy things happening at this crazy hospital. They said this hospital is haunted. They said that they are going to get their wives and moving to Kingman where sane people live. They said they were gittin' out of town while the gittin's good. They advised me to do the same. They were talking about some yellow eyes always been staring at them. They said to tell you just to mail them their checks. Will somebody tell me what is going on in this hospital?" "Is that all they said?" Mona asked. "No. They said this place is cursed. And they throwed forty dollars at me and told me to tell that nice lady's husband to get somebody else to move that funny little couch." Just at that moment William walked in.. "I think I got everything," he said, then noticing Diondre, said, "Oh, hi Diondre. How's Lucille?" "She's fine. She said to tell you thanks for dinner last night. Oh, there goes my beeper! It's the second floor again. I've got to run," he said, exiting the room. It was all Alma and Mona could do to contain themselves. As soon as Diondre left, they both burst into laughter and told William about Hank and Henry. William walked over to Rags and gave him a treat. "You little rascal," he said. "Are you worth all this trouble?" "No," Rags silently answered. "But Alaric is." William agreed with Alma about reestablishing the garden, and said that he would ask the director of Woodville Regional about hiring a landscaper. It would give Alma something to take her mind off Alaric, even if only for a few moments. Within two hours, the landscapers were there and had begun work on the garden and fountain. William hired two of the landscapers to bring down Alma's chaise longue. Rags was delighted to have a place to go. That afternoon Chris, Honey and Megan stopped by for a visit. Honey was still incognito. They were on their way to the movies and asked if there was anything they could do for Alaric. William asked if they would like to join him for dinner after the movie so he wouldn't have to eat alone. Alma declined, saying that she would remain with Alaric. When William protested, saying that she needed to rest, she laughingly said that she would get plenty of rest on her "funny little couch." She said that she was going to put Rags back up on the bed with Alaric while they were having dinner. The rest of the day William spent on the phone with business associates. When the movie was over, he picked up the Colts and they all went to dinner. Before leaving for the day, Mona stopped in to ask Alma if there was anything further she needed. She gave Alma her home phone number just in case. She said that she had been there since five that morning and Tom would be furious with her for taking so long. Mona closed the door to Alaric's room when she left. With Mona gone, the room seemed eerily quiet. Alma looked at Rags. Rags wagged his tail. "Would you like to accompany me for a quiet stroll in the garden, Sir Rags?" Alma asked. "I'd be delighted, m'lady fair," Rags said, but Alma did not hear him. The landscapers had already gone home for the day. They walked around to see how the garden was progressing. Alma sat on one of the new wrought iron benches that had just been delivered that day. Rags busied himself getting acquainted with all the new smells. When he had satisfied himself, he came back to Alma and jumped up on the bench and lay down beside her. He placed his head in her lap. As she patted and stroked him, she leaned back and started humming. If there was one thing Alaric loved most about his grandmother, it was listening to her hum. She rarely hummed, but when she did, it was soft, almost whispery. Alaric imagined that that is how the voices of the angels sounded. Rags listened rapturously. He did not move. It was one of those nights when the moon and the stars shone dimly. There was a breeze, not cool and not warm. It made one feel good to be out in the open and not cooped up in an air conditioned hospital room. Alma's voice drifted up over the cinder block wall and wafted out into the desert. Although it wasn't loud, it was serene, and the desert air pulled it along with the breeze that was neither cool nor warm. From a distance of some hundred yards, her voice sounded surreal, oddly like a painful lament. She would have been surprised to learn that her voice, which was hardly more than a whisper, could be heard so far away. But this was one of those nights when sounds travel. Sometimes, in the desert, if the conditions are just right, one can hear voices miles away. Alma continued to hum and caress Rags. Rags closed his eyes and thought of Alaric. Alma almost fell asleep. She sat up with a jerk. "Come on fella," she said to Rags. "We've got work to do." As the two of them walked back into the room, neither of them saw the two mustard colored eyes watching them from the open stretches of the dimly lit desert. Alma put Rags on Alaric's bed. Rags watched as she raised Alaric's head and fluffed up his pillows. She pushed his hair back off his forehead and leaned over the bed and kissed his wound. It would leave a scar. "Wake up, my darling," she whispered. With her face just inches away from his, she studied him. She combed his hair back with her fingers; her silent tears dripping onto his expressionless face. Keeping her back to Rags, she reached into her handbag and took out her handkerchief. She sat on the chaise longue dabbing her eyes. "Oh please," she sobbed. "Please." Rags watched in agony as Alma wept, unable to do anything that would alleviate this great lady's unimaginable anguish. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler October 4, 2002 Chapter Six THE MISTY CURTAIN Release 20 Rags watched Alma dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. He understood her pain, and she his. "Don't mind me, fella," Alma said to Rags. "I'll be right here. Do what you must." Alma could tell that Rags understood. Alma sat very still, watching as Rags turned his gaze to Alaric. The room was completely still except for the steady whirring of the hospital equipment, and they provided more of a comfort than a distraction. Using the scar as a focal point, Rags concentrated on reaching Alaric's consciousness. He closed his eyes. He could only see emptiness. He went deeper, still nothing. Alma sat watching, saying nothing. Rags kept trying, going even deeper. Still nothing. Far in the distance he saw what appeared to be a blue wall. He moved toward it. There seemed to be a mist surrounding it. As he got closer to the mist, it seemed to engulf him. Wap! He hit a solid wall. Alma, still watching Rags, was startled when he jumped, but she did not move. Rags tried going through the mist. The wall was solid. It looked more like a curtain—a blue, misty curtain. He tried again to get through it. He started panting. He kept trying. His panting was getting heavier and heavier. He tried going over the top of the curtain. There was no top. He tried going under the curtain. There was no bottom. He tried going around. There was no end. Strange, he thought, the curtain was a mist, but it was solid. He tried again. His tongue was hanging out now, and dripping. His whole body started shaking. He was about to lose consciousness himself. He called out to Alaric. "RAGS!" It was Alma. "Stop! That's enough for now." Rags snapped out of it. "We'll try again tomorrow," she said. Rags collapsed on the floor trying to catch his breath. Alma got some fresh water for him. As he drank, she looked at Alaric who remain totally blank. I found the misty curtain, Rags thought. Now, if only I can find a way through it. It can be done. I did it the other night, but it's bigger, now, stronger. If there is a way, I will find it. "Let's go for a little stroll out into the garden, Rags," Alma said. "Come on, boy." Alma did not bother to put him on a leash. She knew he wouldn't leave Alaric. Rags followed. Alma sat on the bench and watched as he wondered around sniffing first this, then that. He looked up at her, and before she could catch herself, he got a glimpse of what she was thinking. It was the misty-blue curtain. She had seen it! Had he conveyed that thought to her, or had she followed him into the depths of the abyss of a mind gone...where? This woman will do anything this side of Heaven to get Alaric back. She is not someone to have as an enemy. William stepped out into the garden. "So here you two are," he said. He gave Alma her dinner and started feeding Rags. "Any luck?" He asked. "I'm not really sure," Alma said. "There is something...a barrier...a blue curtain. It is surrounded by a mist. It's solid. Impenetrable." "There's no such thing as ‘impenetrable.' If it can be erected, it can be breached. There has to be a chink somewhere; we just have to find it." "You mean Rags has to find it." "Alma," William said, putting his arm around her, "I love you, and I want Alaric back as much as you, but we don't know what—if anything—is on the other side of this barrier. We don't even know if there is another side. This misty curtain, as you call it, may be absolute. It may be all that's left of Alaric. And even if it isn't, supposing we do get to the other side, what might we find there?" William held her hand. "I know you are hopeful, my love, but be careful. We might not even want what's on the other side." William held his wife as she sobbed. Later that night after William had gone and Alma had fallen asleep, very quietly Rags jumped back up on Alaric's bed. He lay down between Alaric's right arm and his body and stared at the great scar on Alaric's forehead. He tried again. Getting to the misty-blue curtain was much easier this time. He entered the mist until he reached the solid curtain. He could go no farther. He closed his eyes. He concentrated. He pushed. He pushed harder. He was panting and losing strength. He kept pushing, concentrating, focusing only on the point directly in front of him. The blue mist got thicker. Was he making progress? He couldn't tell. He wouldn't give up. He was tired, growing weaker by the second. With all the power of his mind, he shouted, "ALARIC!" "That's enough Rags," Alma said. "Come on back." She took a towel and began drying him off. His coat was covered with a dew-like substance. In the dim light of the hospital room, it seemed to be a barely perceptible shade of blue. She picked him up and took him out into the garden and placed him on the garden table. "You should have waited for me," she said, rubbing him briskly with the towel. "You need rest. Now don't try again until tomorrow. Okay buddy?" Rags said nothing. "Good morning," Lucille said, peeking around the hospital room door. "I brought you a thermos of coffee and some peach cobbler with rum sauce and a pooper scooper." Alma chuckled. "I should have thought of that myself." "How's our boy doing?" "About the same, as far as I can tell." Lucille looked at Rags. "You tried didn't you?" She said, without speaking. Rags turned his back to her. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," Lucille continued, "but I might be able to help you. Nobody but Chris Colt even knows I can talk to you, and he's not sure." Alma was observing all this. Keeping his back to Lucille, he got up and went out into the garden. The gardeners were already there and ran out the back gate when they saw him. "Don't worry about him," Lucille said, following Rags. "He's just visiting, and I have a brand new pooper scooper, so, not to worry." The gardeners were nice enough, but Rags wouldn't let them pet him until one of them offered him a bite of his beef and bean burrito. Delicious! Rags thought. I'll have to ask Alaric to get me a beef & bean burrito when he wakes up. Odd name for something so good. Little jackass. William and Mona both arrived at the same time. "I brought some coffee," they each said at the same time. Alma smiled, "Thank you, all of you, for thinking of me. I'm sure the gardeners will make good use of what we don't drink." "George's plane comes in this afternoon. Do you want to go with me to Vegas to pick him up?" "I'd rather wait here with Alaric," Alma said. "My laptop should be here sometime today. "I notice you're rubbing your feet. Do you want me to go by Neiman-Marcus and get you a comfortable pair of shoes?" "No. I'll get a pair at Wal-Mart. Tell George he might want to get a room in Las Vegas. The accommodations here are...well, Spartan, to say the least." "I'm hoping we won't have to stay here that much longer," William said. "Was Marie able to get in touch with Dr. Jenkins?" "I don't know. When I called, she said that he was in a staff meeting. She hasn't called me back," William said. "Did anything happen after I left last night?" "A lot, but I'm not quite sure what. I woke up and Rags was shaking almost as if he was having a seizure. I had to stop him. When he snapped out of it he just lay there panting. I watched him as he rested. William, he seemed to have an aura—a blue aura, barely visible. I don't know what it is. I think he got closer this time than ever before. I had to bring him back before he hurt himself." "I understand. I brought him something to eat. Where is he?" "Outside with Lucille." "Do you want to go to breakfast with me?" "Lucille brought me something." "Are you sure you don't want to go with me to pick up George?" "Yes." "Rags might enjoy getting out." "Rags won't leave Alaric." After William left, Mona came in to change the linens. "I couldn't help overhearing," she said. "Who is Dr. Jenkins?" "Dr. Colin Jenkins. He's a specialist." "Is he from Boston?" "Baltimore." "He needs physical therapy, Alma," Mona said. "before his muscles begin to atrophy, and there's nobody at Woodville Regional I would recommend." Just then Chris, Honey and Megan walked in. "We stopped by Wal-Mart and got some flowers for Alaric," Honey said. She was still wearing her black wig and sunglasses. "Too bad he can't get one of Renéé's masseurs," she said. "Boy, do they know how to give physical therapy!" Honey fanned her face with her hand. "Honey!" Chris said. "You might have just saved the day." Then to Alma, "Renéé's masseurs are famous! If you like, I can call Renéé personally." "How do you know Renéé?" Honey asked. "By all means," Alma said. "Call her." Chris kissed Honey and said, "Honey, you're a genius!" "That's the best idea I've heard today," Mona said. Chris used his cell phone to call Renéé. "How do you know Renéé?" Honey repeated. "I have Renéé on the phone," Chris said. "She wants to know if you want a masseur or a masseuse." "Tell her we want the best she has," Alma said. "Send a masseuse," Chris said, smiling at Alma. Honey hit him. Rags surveyed the entire garden, claiming all the new foliage for his own. Every now and again he would glance over at Lucille. She never took her eyes off him. "If only you would let me help you, little one," she said. "I know you have the gift. I can help you." Rags continued walking around, sniffing all the new plants and scratching the ground with his feet, leaving his scent, ignoring Lucille. "I know you have the gift," she repeated. "I also know that you are only a puppy. You are just a puppy with all the puppy instincts, but you have this magnificent gift. I don't know to what extent, but it has to be mighty powerful and mighty important for you to bring all this misfortune down on us, Rags. You know, Rags, until you and Alaric showed up, we hadn't had problems like these since the Desert Creeper, and that was many years ago." Rags froze when he heard the words, "Desert Creeper." "You don't know..." She caught herself. "Yes. Yes, you do know, too, don't you. Don't go messing around with these things, Rags. Did you unleash this curse on us, Rags, or did Alaric? Or did both of you? The Native Americans are frightened. They are scared beyond anything I have ever seen. There are big things going on around here, and they don't like it. They have been holding secret meetings, sacred meetings. I've never seen this much spiritual activity in my life. Listen to me Rags. LISTEN TO ME! Do you know what you have done? You have brought GREESEHOBBIN down on us!" Rags jumped as if hit by a bolt of lightening. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler October 11, 2002 Chapter Six—Continued THE MISTY CURTAIN—Continued Release 21 The next morning Honey took one look at the headlines of the morning newspaper and screamed in delight. She screamed so loudly, she scared Chris and Megan. She jumped up and ran into her sewing room and got the scissors and cut the article out of the paper and handed it to Chris. THE WOODVILLE TIMES YELLOW HAIRED LADY WITH BABY STILL AT LARGE By Jeannie Braun Times Staff Writer WOODVILLE — Sheriff Jackie Bob Jackson no closer to locating whereabouts of "Yella-Headed-Lady-With-a-Baby," who allegedlly masterminded the debacle at Woodville Regional Hospital. Sheriff Jackie Bob was applauded when he told members of the Eagles at a news conference last night that he thought it was the work of outside agitators. Sheriff Jackie Bob said that he had stopped looking for her when he got reports that she had been seen in the Los Angeles area. Sheriff Jackie Bob said that he was sure that the so-called "Yella-Headed-Lady-With-a-Baby was no longer even in the Woodville area. "I'm sure she has gone back to where she came from," he was quoted as saying. "She was sent here by those "Lotus Eaters in LA LA LAND." When asked whether he was going to continue searching for the infamouse "Lady," Sheriff Jackie Bob said, "No! I say, ‘Let them Lotus Eaters have her.'" As Chris read the article, Honey threw the black wig off and began brushing her hair. I've got to go to Renéé's and have my hair done over. Instead of blonde, I want it colored a sort of champagne color, only a little darker...moreof a blondish-auburn. Chris finished the article and looked up at Honey. "Aw," he said, "there goes my sexy Mata Hari. Do you think you might want to wear it to bed every now and then?" "Shut up, Chris," Honey said, hitting him. "Megan is in the room." "Can I wear it, Mommy?" "No," Honey said. "I'll buy you a different one. This is for those special nights with your daddy." She looked over at Chris, smiled, and said, "Now you can have both, your blonde temptress of the Nile and your raven-haired floozie of the Pecos." Silently, Chris marvelled at the change in Honey. He liked it. "Let's go see Alaric," Chris said. "And Rags!" Megan said. "And Alma," Honey said. Not surprising, the two women were becoming friends. "Poor William," Megan said, "I'll see Rags and William." "What about Uncle George?" "Who's Uncle George?" Alma's face lit up when George walked into the room. George walked over to the side of the bed and stood looking at Alaric. "It doesn't hardly even look like him," he said. Alma stood beside George and put her hand on his shoulder. "He's losing his color," she said. "We have a masseur and professional physical therapist coming in this evening to exercise his muscles." George turned to Alma. She looked tired. "How are you holding up?" He asked. William had already prepared him for the change in her. Her face was drawn, and she had lost a lot of weight, but even through all that, she still retained her bearing and poise. "I'm fine," she said. "As soon as Alaric wakes up, Honey and I are going to Vegas for a complete ‘overhaul.'" "Wake up Alaric," Honey shouted. "Hurry up." George looked down and saw Rags sniffing his shoes. "So, this is the famous Rags!" He said, lifting Rags up and putting him on Alaric's bed. "Hello Mr. Rags. I'm George. Uncle George to you. I have a feeling you are going to get to know me very well." William had already briefed George on Rags and his importance. "Anybody who loves my nephew as much as I've heard you do, is okay in my book. What d'you say to that, boy?" Rags wagged his tail and furiously gave George angelkisses. "Would you allow me to take you and William to dinner this evening?" George said to Alma. "I can't leave him, George." Alma said. "You have to eat." George said. William put his arm around his wife's waist, "Maybe if we could get Mona to stay with him, we could all go to The Gant. It would do you a world of good to take your mind off Alaric for a couple of hours." "Oh, William, I don't even have my hair done." "Come with me, Alma," Honey said, "We'll both go to Renéé's. On such short notice, we may not get a full overhaul, but we can sure as heck get a tune-up. We'll take my minivan. The boys can meet us in Laughlin." Alma was so taken by surprise, she actually let Honey pull her out of the hospital room and laughing, they left the hospital to go to Renéé's. "Well," William said, picking Megan up, "that leaves Megan surrounded by five adoring males. We can't take her to the casino with us. Do you think Lucille would like to visit Laughlin? She and Megan could take in a matinee. We might as well stay in Laughlin since we will be having dinner at The Gant tonight." "I'm sure she will," Chris said. "She and Megan are very close." Mona finished her shift and came in and sat with Alaric and Rags. She was watching television and working the Times crossword. Rags jumped up on Alaric's bed. Mona looked up. "Do you need to go outside, boy?" She picked up Rags and took him out into the garden. "I'll leave the door open so you can come back in when you get ready," she said. Rags stayed out on the garden until it started getting dark. When he came back in, Mona was sound asleep in the chaise longue. Her glasses were askew and the newspaper had fallen on the floor. Quietly he jumped up on Alaric's bed. He gave Alaric an angelkiss. He sat back down and concentrated on the scar on Alaric's head. He lay down. Like an x-ray, he went into the abyss. There was nothing but darkness. He continued onward and downward. In the far distance, he started to make out the misty curtain. It seemed to get easier each time he tried. The misty curtain became larger and larger. As Rags approached, the mist became thicker and heavier. He entered the cascading mist. When he got to the part where he could go no farther, he tried harder and harder. He was needlessly exhausting his strength. He was tired. He stopped for a minute and sat down to rest. As he rested, he let his mind wander. Then he saw it! That was the secret. The harder he pushed, the greater the resistance. He relaxed. As he relaxed, he found he could walk where he could not run. The misty curtain engulfed him and he slowly, but effortlessly moved forward. The misty curtain was endless. Rags continued onward and downward. He could see nothing but the blue mist. Onward and downward. He started to move a little faster. The resistance became greater. He slowed down. The resistance became less. After what seemed an eternity, Rags began to sense that he was coming to the outer edge of the other side of the misty curtain. He was! There is another side! He could see it! Alaric! Alaric! Are you there? Mona lay sound asleep on the chaise longue. She hadn't moved. The sliding glass door that had been left open so that Rags could get back in was still open. It was dark, now. Hardly a star in the sky. An unseen, formless, dusky cloud, with mustard-colored eyes hovered just outside the sliding glass doors, watching everything that was and was not going on. Note was taken. The powerful protector that they called Alma was not here now. The Indians were making noises. Somehow they have become aware of his presence, and the longer he took, the stronger they were becoming. He would have to strike soon. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler, October 18, 2002 Chapter Six—Continued THE MISTY CURTAIN—Continued Release 22 When Rags reached the other side of the misty curtain, he was mentally exhausted. He rested. He seemed to be on the very edge of an abyss. As he searched the terrain, he discovered an opening to what appeared to be a cave. He wandered inside. It was very dark, but dry. As he had done with the misty curtain, he proceeded, slowly. Nothing but darkness. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, he still could not see anything. He closed his eyes again and counted to twenty. This time when he opened them, he could see, but not much. The light was dimmer than a candlelight, but at least he could see something. As he continued going forward, he came to a junction of three tunnels. The one on the right seemed to lead downward, the one on the left seemed to lead upward and the one in the middle seemed to lead straight ahead. He took the one in the middle. He heard what sounded like whispers. He wondered what they were and what they meant. He couldn't see who or what was making them, nor could he understand what they were whispering. Were they alive? It sounded like nothing he had ever heard before. He continued onward. The tunnel twisted and turned and led to other tunnels which in turn led to more tunnels. He pressed onward. The whispering sounds were all around him. As he wandered through the labyrinth, he thought he might be lost, but something inside told him that he was on the right track. If at times he seemed to be losing hope or confidence, all he had to do was think of Alaric, and his resolve would be reinvigorated. Alaric is somewhere; he may be in a discrete state, or he may be just hiding, but no matter what, I will find him, he said to himself. And with his strength renewed and rejuvenated, by sheer mental determination, he continued his quest. The labyrinth seemed to go on forever, but he was getting closer; he could feel it. The laughter coming from the corner of the dining room at The Gant was so loud, it was causing the patrons at the other tables to chuckle in amusement. George Adams was famous for his infectious laughter and it was contagious. Nobody could tell a tale like Chris Colt and he was laying it on thick, giving it all he had. He was telling the story to George about what has come to be known in local circles as "The Debacle at Woodville Regional." At times George was almost doubled over with laughter. When Chris told him about Honey going into the men's ward on the second floor, he laughed so hard, he slapped Lucille's leg, causing her to lose control as well. Honey kept hitting Chris and saying, "Shut up, Chris." Then to George, "He did that on purpose." All George could do was laugh and repeat, "Blonde Temptress! Mata Hari! Lady with a Baby!" And he would burst out laughing again. William was wiping the tears of laughter out of his eyes. "And Alma was in on this too?" George asked. " I WOULD GIVE A MILLION DOLLARS TO HAVE THIS ON VIDEO!" By the time Chris got to the part about the tornados and the hurricanes and the green ducks and the flying dogs and Honey refusing to pull the needle out of Bernie's arm, everybody at the table had lost all sense of decorum, even Alma. There were so many different tunnels and passageways, entrances and exits and the ever-present, indiscernible, obtuse shadows that came and went noiselessly dancing and skipping along the walls, constantly changing forms that so intimidated Rags, he was beginning to wonder whether he was hopelessly, helplessly lost. The whispering never changed in volume or intensity, and Rags could not tell if they came from the shadows or some still-undiscovered source. There were times when whatever was making the noise seemed to be right in his face, he could sense them, but he could never make out an image, only shadows. Rags entered chamber after honeycombed chamber. There were recesses where no recess should be. There were bottomless pits waiting to claim the unwary. It was as porous as a sponge on the floor of the ocean and it was becoming more complex with every twist and turn. Rags became so confused, he wondered whether he would ever find his way out again, let alone to Alaric. He stopped and rested and tried to get his bearings. It was no use. He was hopelessly lost deep in the bowels of what he knew in his soul to be the endless catacombs of those who no longer live, but who are not yet dead. The first thing Mona saw when she woke up was Alma sitting beside her. Alma put her finger to her lips, indicating for Mona not to make a sound. She didn't want to disturb Rags. She motioned for Mona to follow her out into the garden. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Alma," Mona said. I guess working these double shifts has taken its toll. I'm just so tired." "Think nothing of it," Alma said. "You provided the perfect setting Rags needed. I have a feeling that's exactly what Rags was waiting for. I've noticed he doesn't seem to want to do anything if he knows someone is watching." "I think you're right," Mona said. "I took him out into the garden and left the door open so that he could come back inside when he was ready. I sat down and started working the crossword, and the last thing I remember was a seven-letter word for skunk." "Mona," Alma said, "do you mind if I ask you something that might seem somewhat peculiar?" "About the yellow eyes?" "Then you have seen them, too," Alma said. "I don't mind telling you, Alma," Mona said. "I'm scared." "Whatever it is, it's after something. I can't quite put my finger on it, but somehow Rags and Alaric have become unwitting participants in an unholy struggle." "Speaking of unholy," Mona said. "Turn around slowly, Alma, and you'll see this unholy thing staring at us right now. And he seems to be laughing at us. And believe me, this is not an apparition. Even the Indians are whispering about it." Alma took Mona's hand and said, "Come on, let's go back inside." Mona's hand was shaking. "I'm going to have to go home. Tom will think I've deserted him," Mona said. "Will you be all right?" Alma asked. "Sure. I'm just tired. I need some rest." The two mustard-colored eyes in the dusky cloud watched as only Alma was left to keep vigil over the helpless and the confused. Alma closed the drapes. Without making a sound, she settled into the chaise longue, determined not to disturb Rags. As Mona got out of her car she thought she smelled gas. She walked around to the side of the house and checked around the gas meter. She couldn't smell gas, but she did see the yellow eyes staring back at her from inside her bedroom windows. Quickly she went back around to the front of the house, fumbling for her keys. She smelled gas again as soon as she got to the front door. I hope Tom is all right, she said to herself. She switched on the light to the front room. The blast could be felt for more than a mile. The explosion lit up the desert sky like a bomb. There was only a crater where her house and the two adjacent houses stood. They had been reduced to vapor. The Woodville Times would later report that the "accident" was caused by a natural gas leak, but there were those who knew that something else entirely had been to blame. To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepweiler David Butler, , , October 25, 2002 Chapter Six—Continued THE MISTY CURTAIN—Continued Release 23 Alma was sitting in her chaise longue when she felt what she thought might be a mild earthquake. She took off her glasses and walked over to the sliding doors and drew the drapes. She was just in time to see an enormous orange and red fireball fill the entire western sky, sparks were flying thousands of feet into the night air. Black smoke was billowing toward the horizons. She went back to check on Alaric and Rags. Rags appeared to be sound asleep. She grabbed a small coverlet that William had given her to cover her feet and placed it over Rags. He didn't move. She pulled the sheet up to Alaric's chin and leaned over and kissed his scar, then she walked back to the sliding glass doors. The entire western sky was an orange glow. The earthquake must have broken a gas main, she thought. She heard the sirens rushing to the scene. I wonder what happened, she thought. I hope Mona made it home so she won't get caught up in all the traffic. She walked out into the garden and stood looking. Odd, she thought. Someone must be playing his boom box too loudly. It sounded like Indian ceremonial drums. She listened more closely, the sound seemed to be coming from the opposite direction. She shuddered, the desert air was nippy this time of year. She went back inside to get her shawl. When she came back out, the orange glow seemed to be brighter. She thought about calling Mona to see if everything was all right, but changed her mind, when she remembered that Mona had told her that she was tired and was going home to rest. Alma's cell phone rang. It was William. "Did you hear what happened? He asked his wife. "No, I haven't turned the television on. I didn't want to disturb Alaric and Rags. What's happened? Was it an earthquake?" "They still don't know. I turned the news on. There's a woman from Cal-Tech giving a news conference, she said that there was no seismic activity. She said that there had been a 3.9 temblor yesterday morning in the Mojave, but that this explosion is totally unrelated." "Did George stay in Laughlin?" "Yes. He called before I could call you. He's watching it on CNN. Do you want me to come down there?" "No. I'll be all right." Diondre woke up to see Lucille lighting candles. She handed Diondre a monkey wrench and told him to go outside and turn off the gas. Diondre obeyed without question. Normal procedure after an earthquake is to turn off the gas, just in case there is a leak. When he came back inside, he saw his aunt pulling the old cedar chest out away from the wall. "Let me help you with that," he said to his aunt. He used to love to stand around and watch his aunt when she opened her cedar chest. She would pick up each treasure one by one, examine it, kiss it, and replace it just as she had found it. Each object held a story, and he listened intently to every one. An audible sob involuntarily escaped, as she picked up Louis's Purple Heart. She held it to her cheek and kissed it. She held the flag to her breast and moaned slightly. The same flag with the forty-eight stars that had been draped over his casket when he was laid to rest in the "New Section" of the Woodville City Cemetary. Time had not diminished her memory, nor had it eased her pain. Diondre placed his hand on his aunt's shoulder. "Don't cry Aunt Lucy." It was a manly gesture, something he had done since he was only eight years old, when he first came to live with her. Lucille kept rummaging through the ancient cedar chest. She was looking for something in particular. She dug deep down to the bottom, past Louis's old uniforms that she had washed, startched and ironed almost sixty years ago. She felt something with her hand. "Ah, here it is," she said, pulling out an old highly lacquered wooden jewelry box. It had brass hinges and a solid gold padlock. Inlaid in gold and ivory arching across the top in calligraphic script were the words: Cancióne de Mi Corazón. Lucille lifted the box to her face and kissed the writing. She felt the smooth finish with her cheek. Louis had sent this to her from Hawaii so many years ago. With tears in her eyes, she reached behind her neck and unhooked the gold chain around her neck. She took the gold key and opened the box. She still had the note, yellowed with age, that Louis had written all those years ago. She read it again; without raising her head, she handed it to Diondre to read. "For you my love, the song of my heart." Rummaging through the box, Lucille pulled out an old crucifix and a silver talisman that had been given to her ages ago by her Indian friend Billy Lamehorse. She found the gold St. Christopher's medal that she had given to Louis to wear around his neck before he left to go to war. She placed it around Diondre's neck. "This is yours now. Your uncle wore it all through World War II." "I can think of no higher honor," Diondre said, kissing his aunt on her cheek. "Thank you Aunt Lucy." Lucille smiled. She replaced the padlock and put the box back into the cedar chest and locked it. "Come, Diondre," she said, "we must hurry." As they drove into the sandy yard, Billy met them at the truck. "This is my nephew, Diondre," Lucille said. "Meet Billy Lamehorse, Diondre." "Please to meet you Mr. Lamehorse," Diondre said, extending his hand. Billy Lamehorse had told the story of how he came by his name so many times, he just automatically explained that his great-grandfather had been on a hunting party and a snake had panicked his horse causing it to bolt. The horse stepped into a gopher hole and broke his leg. His great-grandfather broke his leg when the horse fell on it. From that day on, both his grandfather and the horse were called Lamehorse. Billy jumped into the truck and Diondre sped out. "Have you your crucifix?" "Yes." "And the talisman?" "Yes." "Is the woman expecting us?" "She is." "Does Diondre know what is going on?" Billy asked. "A little. He's just watching this time." "Been busy these last couple of weeks. Very busy." "Talismans?" "Like we haven't seen since the disappearance of the Jaquith twins." "That's been 40 years!" "They don't need God until something like Greesehobbin manifests itself." "Why are we doing this?" Diondre asked. "How much danger are we in?" "Diondre," Lucille said, "you don't have to go through this if you don't want to. You can wait for us in the truck, or go get something to eat. I'll call you when we finish." "I'll wait in the truck," Diondre said, rubbing his St. Christopher's medal. "How much time do we have before sunrise?" "About three hours." "Did you see the fire?" Lucille asked. "Lit up the whole western sky." When Billy and Lucille arrived, they found Alma standing at the sliding glass doors watching the orange glow out over the horizon. "Do you know what happened?" Alma asked. "You know as much as we do," Lucille said. Alma shivered. Billy walked over to the bed. He studied Alaric and Rags for a moment. Lucille and Alma came and stood on either side of Billy. "What's happening?" Lucille asked. "He's still in the catacombs," Billy said. "If we don't do something now, we might not be able to do anything at all." "How close is he to the essence?" "He's almost there, but the shadows are interfereing more now," Billy said. "If he gets through, they won't let him back unless we can help." "Is Alaric still alive?" Alma asked. "Don't know yet. As long as there is an essence, there is the possibility that the man might still be alive, but the longer we take, the further he sinks." "Then let's get started," Alma said. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler, , November 1, 2002 Chapter Six—Continued THE MISTY CURTAIN—Continued Release 24 By now the shadows were becoming more daring. Rags could see the glow of their red eyes rushing all about him. The whispers were so loud, now, they sounded like steam escaping from a freight train's boiler. Rags saw the opening at the end of the catacombs and ran for it. Suddenly he found himself floating in midair inside an inner sanctum. It was a gray translucent sphere. This must be the essence, he thought. There were dark gray clouds around and un-harnessed electricity everywhere, but no positive or negative, nor was there any thunder. It was a gray world, nothing white, nothing black, no colors. Rags continued toward what he perceived to be the center. He looked behind him. He could see the shadows darting in and out of the opening of the catacombs, but they seemed unable to penetrate the protective walls of the gray globe. They were screaming and spitting and spewing filth from the openings that served as their mouths. "You're ours now, you wretched blunderer! The trap was set, and now you've tripped it. Fool! We've got you right where we wanted you! There is no way back. It is utterly hopeless to try." Rags shuddered. As he approached the center, he saw a gigantic oak tree. Like everything else in this gray world, it was gray. Even the leaves and acorns were gray. There were gray boulders under the tree, and gray grass grew all around. There were even gray daffodils and gray lilies and gray roses, all with gray stems and gray leaves and gray blossoms. There was even a gray brook that flowed by the gray oak. Sitting underneath the great gray oak was a gray man, greatly diminished by circumstance. He was dressed in gray clothes and gray shoes. In his hand was a gray book with gray pages. The gray man appeared to be reading the gray book. Cautiously Rags approached the man and looked at the book. He saw that there were no words on the pages, unless they were gray as well, in which case they would be invisible. Rags went around to the front of the gray man and stared up into his eyes. Calmly the gray man opened his gray eyes and looked at Rags. If there was a sign of recognition, it was not detectable. "Alaric?" "Is anybody else coming?" Billy asked. "Just George," Lucille said. "He should be here by now." "Shall I lock the door?" Alma asked. "Yes. We don't want to be disturbed." "Are you staying, Diondre?" Lucille asked. "Why is it so important that we do this thing tonight?" Diondre asked. "It has to be done in the midnight hour of the blue moon." "But why tonight?" "There won't be another blue moon for a long time; by then it will be too late." "Exactly what is the midnight hour?" Diondre asked. "Thirty minutes before midnight and thirty minutes after midnight." Lucille said. "We need to get started," Billy said. "There's not much time." Just then George walked through the doorway. He was panting as if he had been running. "Sorry I'm late. Isn't William going to be here?" "No." Alma cleared off the bedside table and Billy reached into his satchel and withdrew some matches. He gave Lucille some jars of incense and three glazed ceramic bowls about three inches in diameter. "I like your bag," Lucille said to Billy. "Is that carpet? Did you make it yourself?" "It's a valise," Billy said, matter-of-factly, "It's not carpet. I got it at Saks." George chuckled. Billy looked at George as if annoyed by the laughter. Alma and Lucille looked at each other and smiled. As Alma and Lucille arranged the jars and set up the candles, Billy asked George if he had brought the implements. "I have them both. You know the terms, they must be returned to the Altar of the Exalted Quaternion within 48 hours after the midnight hour of the blue moon." "William has the Gulfstream waiting," Alma said. "Everything has already been taken care of. They will be back in the valley of the Nile by tomorrow evening." Diondre took this opportunity to exit. "Where is the Belinda?" Alma asked George. "Alexandria." "I don't have to tell you what will happen if they are not back at the altar in time," George said. Billy looked at Alma. In the brief minutes since he met her, he could tell that she was an exceptional woman, above reproach. They exchanged friendly glances. Billy smiled at her. "Don't worry," he said to her telepathically. "Thank you," Alma whispered, returning the smile. Lucille reached over and held Alma's hand for a moment. "Do you have a crucifix?" She asked. Alma put her hand to her neck. "I still have the periapt my grandfather gave me when I was seven years old." "You will need it." George reached into his right coat pocket and withdrew a leather pouch. The symbol for the Greek letter alpha was emblazoned in gold on the outside. He reached into his left pocket and withdrew another leather pouch. The symbol for the Greek letter omega adorned the other one. They were drawn shut and locked by a gold serpentine clamp. He gave the pouches to Lucille who handed them to Billy who had been studying Alaric and Rags. "How is he doing?" Lucille asked Billy. "He's made it to the essence." Lucille looked at Alma who was looking for any sign of encouragement. "What about Alaric?" She asked. "Danger. The shadows are growing stronger, they have taken on third-dimensional qualities." "Can they enter the essence?" "No, but they can prevent anyone returning from it." "And the implements?" Alma asked. "Only Alaric can use them. Rags must somehow be able to coax, persuade, encourage, or otherwise force him to pick them up and use them." "How will they know that they are available to them?" "They will know," Billy said. Billy reached into the bag marked with the alpha symbol and withdrew another bag, this one was made of gold lamé. Embroidered in silver across the top were the letters: A A. Centered underneath those letters was the word: MICHAEL. He then reached into the bag marked with the omega symbol and withdrew a bag identical to the other one, identified the same way. Billy gave George an amulet which he immediately placed around his neck. "What time is it?" Billy asked. "Eleven fifteen," Alma said. "Light the incense and candles." As Alma and Lucille lit the incense, Billy removed the implement from the bag marked with the alpha symbol. It was a sword. The handle was encrusted with rubies and emeralds and diamonds and sapphires. The blade itself was made of a material not borne of this earth. It had its own resplendent light that sparkled more brilliantly than the stars. The jewels that adorned the handle radiated with their own dazzling intensity. Both Alma and Lucille gasped at the sight. "I never knew anything so beautiful existed in the world," Alma said. "For all intents and purposes," Billy said, "it doesn't." He covered the sword with a virgin linen cloth to protect his eyes and the eyes of those around him. "This is his sword," he said. He then removed the implement from the bag marked with the omega symbol. This object was no less endowed, if anything it was even more fulgent, having been hewn from the same heavenly material as the sword. It was also encrusted with beaming, sparkling jewels. Billy covered the shield with a virgin linen cloth. "This is his shield," he said. Alma stood before the implements and removed the linen cloths. She touched the sword with her right hand and the shield with her left hand. She closed her eyes and said, "He is the son of my son." When she withdrew her hands, a wave of peace came over her. Billy looked at her and telepathically said, "You have divine protection, my dear. Your life has been specially favored." Alma looked at Billy, but said nothing. "I don't understand," George said, looking at the sword and shield. "They are not large enough..." "The power of the sword and the shield is infinite. In terms of size, time and travel, the universal laws of physics as we know and understand them are hollow. But keep in mind one thing." "What's that?" George asked. "Every favor has a caveat." "You mean...?" To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com November 8, 2002 Chapter Seven THE ESSENCE I am never better than when I am mad. Then methinks I am a brave fellow; then I do wonders. But reason abuseth me, and there's the torment, there's the hell. Thomas Kyd (1557?—1595?) Release 25 — November 8, 2002 "Alaric," Rags said. "It's me, Rags. Can you hear me?" "Rags?" It was the first word Alaric had uttered since the accident. "What are you doing here, Rags?" "I've come to get you." "Get me? I'm already got." "You have to come back with me Alaric. You can't stay here." "This is a safe place. There are no worries, no problems, no threats." "Let's go." "No." "What are you reading?" "An Anthology." "An Anthology of what?" "Poems." "Read one to me." "I can't." "Why not?" "Uh. I don't know." "I'll tell you why you can't, Alaric. There are no words in that book. Hold on to my leash; I'm taking you back." "No." "You can't stay here." "I can and I will." "Then I'm staying, too." "You can't stay here." "This is..." Alaric thought for a minute. "This is not a place for the living." "Exactly! That's why you must come with me out of this gray place." "You go, Rags. You cannot stay here with me. Go! Leave!" "Is it your wish to destroy your grandmother?" "I would never hurt my grandmother." "Do you want to see her?" "Yes." "Then hold on to my leash, and I'll take you to her." "There is no way out of here. I've tried. The shadows won't let me." "We have to try, Alaric. The longer you stay here, the farther away you drift. You'll keep on drifting, until even the memory of the essence that was your consciousness will disappear." "Is Grandma there?" "She has not left your side." "And Grandpa?" "Yes. And even your uncle George." "Uncle George?" For the first time Alaric smiled. Just then a bolt of lightning struck the opening of the catacombs. The unholy screams escaping from the filthy mouths of the shadows were deafening. The lightning struck again and again, driving the shadows back away from the opening. Then a bolt of lightning struck at the very feet of Alaric and Rags. Except for the red in the eyes of the shadows, it was the first color that Rags had seen since leaving the blue mist of the curtain, and even that had evolved into a lighter shade of gray. Laying at the foot of Alaric and Rags were the glittering implements sent from the other side. "What is that?" Alaric asked, clearly shaken. "It's our ticket out of here." As Alaric gazed upon the implements, a beam of light shone directly into his eyes. For the first time, color returned to Alaric's eyes and his flesh took on a human look of life. Rags watched, but said nothing. Alaric lay down his empty book of poems and looked at Rags. "RAGS!" he shouted. He scooped Rags up in his arms. Deliriously, Rags covered Alaric with angelkisses. "We have no time to waste. We must get out of here." "There's no way out," Alaric said. "The Shadows are sealing the entrance to the catacombs. There is no other way out except through the catacombs, and even if we found another opening, they have unimaginable perils at every turn, and it's easy to get lost in the miles and miles of twisting, winding tunnels." "There is a way, Alaric." "I'm not strong enough." "Pick up the implements." "Those trinkets? What can they do?" "They are nonpareil. Pick them up." "But they are so small, I can hold them in my hands." Alaric reached for the trinkets and picked them up, one in each hand. The instant he touched them, their lights beamed out in all directions. Astonished, Alaric stood up. He regained his full six-feet, two inches in height. With their lights even more brilliant, the sword and the shield dazzingly grew to proportional dimensions. Alaric felt the weight of the sword. "It's as light as a feather!" he said. "And the shield?" Rags asked. "Even lighter!" Alaric held the shield up and swung the sword around, slicing the imaginary enemy. Suddenly the mouth of the catacombs opened wide and the screams of the shadows were deafening. Bolting through the opening in all its glory was a magnificently arrayed white stallion. Seeing Alaric and Rags, the horse went straight to where they were standing and looked directly into the eyes of Rags. "Hello Captain." "Nebula!" "Better hop on. Time's a'wastin'!" "Hold onto my leash, Alaric, and jump!" Rags said. Alaric mounted the steed. "Jump Rags!" Alaric said. "Jump!" With all his might, Rags jumped onto the horse's back. "Got'cha!" Alaric said. "Don't drop me." "Never!" Alaric said, and tied his leash around his waist, and as if seeing him for the very first time, laughingly said, "Rags, did you know you have ‘bedroom' eyes?" "Shut up and let's get outta here!" "Yes Sir!" Alaric said, still laughing. And digging his heels into the sides of the great stallion, said, "GIDDAP!" The magnificent steed neighed and bolted through the gray sphere as if he had wings. He was heading straight for the gray walls of the catacombs. Alaric positioned Rags in front of him between the sword and the shield. "Hold on!" he said. Alaric leaned over and kissed the back of Rags's head. "Thank you," he said. If Rags heard him, he gave no indication. The shadows were screeching and screaming louder than ever by this time, as they busily tried to shore up the breach created when Nebula burst through. Alma, George, Lucille, and Billy were anxiously waiting and watching for any signs of life from either Alaric or Rags. So far, there was nothing to give them hope that their efforts were being fulfilled. Alma took Billy's hand and asked him what he was seeing. "Nebula has successfully made it through the catacombs. Rags has manipulated Alaric into picking up the sword and the shield, but the shadows have become stronger and their powers have been augmented by their master, Greesehobbin." "What exactly is this Greesehobbin?" Alma asked. "Dear lady," Billy said, looking at George, who was shaking his head, "Shakespeare summed it up best in Hamlet, when he said, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Many of these things we are better off not knowing too much about, for our own good. Something/someone has something that the Greesehobbin wants. I will not hazard a guess as to who or what it is. I am doing this for my people. I want things to go back to the peaceful times before your Alaric and your Rags came into the Mojave and brought this thing down around us." "Amen," Lucille said. "It was never Alaric's intention to remain here. He and Rags were just passing through," Alma said. "This Greesehobbin must have been here when Alaric and Rags got here." "I don't think so," Billy said, "but neverthless, remember, there is a price to be paid. Quid pro quo." "Who has to pay this price?" Alma asked. "The procurers of the implements: George, William, Lucille, you, dear lady, and myself. Whether we are successful or not. But you already knew that." "I knew that," Alma said. "How much more time do they have?" "Time is different where they are. We cannot measure it in our terms. It is as if Alaric and Rags and Nebula are on a rushing river, but we don't know whether the river is bearing them away from us or toward us. What may be a minute to us, to them could be hours or even days." Lucille kissed her crucifix and whispered a prayer. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest David Butler, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com November 15, 2002 Chapter Seven—Continued THE ESSENCE—Continued Release 26 The shadows were lined up at the entrance to the labyrinth to prevent anyone from exiting the essence. They waited until Nebula, Alaric and Rags approached the entrance before launching their attack. Nebula reared up on his hind legs and Alaric withdrew the sword. A beam of light from the shield shone directly into the eyes of the shadows, blinding them. Alaric swung the sword toward the rapidly closing opening to the catacombs. As the beam from the sword struck the gray walls they split open and flowed down into the abyss as if made of gray butter. The shadows screeched in terror when the beams of light struck them. They dissolved into one another and swore at the intruders shouting curses at the horse and its riders. They cowered back away from the opening. Seizing the opportunity, Nebula galloped through the opening and disappeared into the darkness of the labyrinth. The hospital room where Alaric and Rags lay immobile was literally under siege. First the candles were blown out by a fierce whirlwind that shattered the glass sliding doors. Glass shards were flying around the room like a million tiny daggers. The draperies were ripped to shreds and blown out into the desert beyond the garden. Alma and Lucille held onto each other and covered their eyes to protect them from the hurricane force wind. The life support system that Alaric was hooked up to exploded. The room lit up in a bevy of bright colors changing quickly from purple, green, yellow, brown and red, and finally going to just black. With the candles out and the incense blown away, Billy was having difficulty concentrating on the task at hand. Lucille was trying to help him, but she was having trouble maintaining her footing. Just outside the room in the garden, they saw the two yellow eyes, only this time, the color wasn't faded, but distinctly outlined. "It's Greesehobbin!" Billy shouted above the noise of the wind and flying debris. At precisely the moment the light from the shield struck the shadows in the catacombs, an ear splitting shriek came from Greesehobbin. Alma and Billy and Lucille had to cover their ears to keep their eardrums from bursting. George picked up the bags with Michael's name on them and laid one of them on Alaric's forehead and the other one on Rags. Seeing this, Greesehobbin made a noise unlike any ever heard on earth. It reverberated out over the desert. Alma dropped to her knees holding her ears; she tried to stand up and went to the door to try to get help. Greesehobbin threw her against the wall with such force, it left the impression of her body in the wallboard. When George and Lucille tried to help her, Greesehobbin threw them out into the garden. Billy reached for a vial that contained a liquid mixture that had been given to him by the elders of the tribe and splashed it on Greesehobbin. Greesehobbin hit the brick wall leading out to the garden with such force, it disentegrated, leaving the room utterly exposed. He tried to remove the bags from Alaric and Rags, but when he touched them, he caught on fire and howled again and dove under the fountain in the garden. When he started to come back into the hospital room Billy held up his watch displaying the time. It was half past midnight. The midnight hour of the blue moon was over. Seeing the watch, Greesehobbin screamed in rage, and making one more swipe around the room, he threw Alma to the floor and flew out into the garden and over the wall. Anyone who just happened to be looking west from the city of Woodville at that very moment would have seen the dark cloud with the yellow eyes come out of the hospital, circle it once and then shoot straight up into the sky, then dip and dissolve into a hundred black vultures that scattered to the four winds. Anyone who just happened to be listening as the vultures disappeared would have heard the eerily prophetic words, "It's not over yet!" On the second floor of Woodville Regional, Old Zeke closed his porthole and shuddered. Riding through the catacombs on the back of Nebula were Alaric and Rags. The blinding light of Michael's shield rendered the shadows absolutely powerless. The sword sliced through the gray walls as if they were made of gauze. When they got to the misty blue curtain, Nebula reared up and neighed. Alaric pointed the sword of Michael and the curtain opened up to allow them to pass through unencumbered. As soon as they reached the other side, Nebula stopped. "Why are we stopping?" Alaric asked. "This is as far as I go," Nebula said. "You two can make it the rest of the way by yourselves. But don't worry, I'll be watching, just in case..." "But why?" Alaric asked. "I thought... I mean, I want to keep you. I mean..." "I know what you're trying to say, Alaric. You'll have to explain it to him, Captain. Remember, I have an appointment to keep." "Captain?" Alaric asked, looking at Rags. "I'll explain later," Rags said to Alaric. "I'm confused," Alaric said. "Will I see you again, Nebula?" "Alaric," Nebula said, "Our lives—yours, Captain's, mine—are inexorably linked in destiny. We will meet many times and in many dimensions. Like it or not, you are now a member of a brotherhood, a fellowship that has no name. It won't always be this easy. Oh, yes. You'll see me again, but until then, you and Captain fare well." And with that the great steed reared up and disappeared into the mist. "I don't understand," Alaric said to Rags. "How is this possible?" "Do you understand quantum mechanics?" "No. Not completely." "And there's a good chance you never will, Alaric," Rags said. "Very few men in the universe do." "Will we see Nebula again?" "Inevitably. You've been through quite a lot for now. We'll talk at length when you've completely recovered. You are in for adventures never dreamed of. We have a quest. Most of what's happened you won't even remember ...at least for a while. You've got some healing to do." William came into the room and seeing Alma completely shaken, rushed to his wife's side. As William helped Alma up, George and Billy saw to Lucille. Lucille had been thrown into the corner and was trying to get back up. "Is everybody okay?" William asked. "I think we're all okay," Billy said. "We've all got cuts and scratches." "I'm all right, William," Alma said. "Let me check on Alaric and Rags." Alma leaned over the bed and tried to brush the glass shards off Alaric and Rags. "Are there signs of any change?" "Not that I can tell," Alma said. "We should know something in a few minutes." "Look at this room!" George said. "How are we going to explain this?" "I'll put in a call to Marie," George said, "and tell her to have the office contact the administrator of the hospital. We will pay for any and all damages and restore the place to its original drab appearance." "We'll do better than that," Alma said. "If this thing worked, and I believe it did, we'll donate a brand new wing. But you must tell Marie to emphasize to the administrator that this must be kept out of the media. Never mind, George, I'll call her myself." Billy was gathering the implements and bags together. He handed the valise to William, saying, "Godspeed, my friend." William hugged Lucille, shook hands with George, and as he embraced his wife, he looked over her shoulder at Alaric and Rags. He could make out no discernible change. "Good-bye, my love," he said, kissing her warmly. Alma didn't say anything; she had something in her eye. To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST.. Tales of the uncompromising Shepwheiler David Butler, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com November 22, 2002 Chapter Eight "GERMINAL" Release 27 By the time the hospital administrator arrived at the hospital that morning a team of lawyers from Boston was there to greet them. Alaric was moved to a different room with no questions asked. A local construction company was hired by the lawyers and repairs to the hospital had begun by ten o'clock. Shortly after he was set up in his new quarters, Rags jumped up on Alaric's bed and started giving him angelkisses. Alma came over to the bed and leaned over to look at Alaric. She went to the bathroom and dampened a cloth and brought it back and started wiping his head. She sat down on the side of the bed and as she washed his face, she leaned over and kissed the scar on his forehead. Rags, not moving, watched. Alma thought she saw Alaric's eyelids flutter, then shook her head. She must be seeing things. Wishful thinking, she thought. Alaric opened his eyes for just a second and then closed them again. She couldn't believe her eyes. It's a dream, she thought. Her mouth flew open, but she couldn't say anything. Alaric opened his eyes for a second time and looked at Alma. Alma was stunned, frozen. Then, regaining her composure, she placed both her hands on either side of Alaric's head and lifted him up, and with tears in her eyes, whispered, "Alaric! Alaric!" Alaric looked puzzled. "Grandma?" "Alaric! Alaric! Alaric!" was all she could say. She put her arms around him and sobbed openly. "Oh thank God! Thank God! You're back!" "Grandma? What's wrong? Where am I?" "Oh, it's a long story, Alaric. There's so much... "Rags! Rags!" Alaric said, seeing Rags for the first time. "You old rascal. Where have you been?" "In heart? In spirit? Or in reality?" Rags asked. Realizing that he was talking without making sounds, Alaric smiled and said, "Hey, I remembered how to do it! I can talk without talking!" "Remember, though," Rags admonished, "we must be very careful. We still haven't had our little ‘tête-à-tête' as you call it." "Well, well, well!" George said, walking through the door, "Look who's awake!" He walked over and shook Alaric's hand. "Uncle George!" "Is that the best you can do?" George asked, referring to Alaric's limp handshake. "At the moment," Alaric said, trying to sit up. "Can you give me a hand?" "I don't know," George said, "when was the last time you washed them?" "I don't know." "I know," Alma jokingly said. "Mona and I bathed him just last night." "Who's Mona?" Alaric asked. "She's a lifesaver. A very fine woman. She's the head nurse here at Woodville Regional." "Woodville Regional?" "It's a long story, Alaric," Alma said, pushing the hair out of his eyes and off his scar, "and you have the rest of your life to hear it." "RAGS!" Megan shouted, running into the room and grabbing Rags and kissing him. Rags returned the favor by feverishly wagging his tail and giving her angelkisses. "Oh, Rags," Megan said. "I've missed you so much!" Alaric looked puzzled. Chris and Honey came in right after Megan. "Oh girl!" Honey said to Alma. "Oh girl, you look positively as if you have been through the wringer! What happened to you? Did you hear what happened last night? They said on the TV that there was a terrible gas explosion over on Fourth street! They still don't know for sure how many were killed, but it happened on the very block where Mona lives." Chris handed Alma a copy of "The Woodville Times." When Alma saw the headlines, she gasped. It confirmed Mona's death. Chris walked over to where Alaric was lying in bed and said, "Hello Alaric. Remember me?" Looking completely baffled, Alaric said, "No, Sir. Should I?" "I'm not surprised, a lot of people forget the moments leading up to an event as traumatizing as what you've been through. You're a very lucky young man. Lucky to be alive." Handing him an envelope, Alaric opened it. Inside was his driver's license. "You're the cop who... I mean you're the law enforcement officer who stopped to help Rags and me!" Chris laughed. "Yeah," he said, "I'm the cop who almost got blown away with you. I should have smelled the gas and gotten us out of there sooner." Picking Megan up and placing her on the side of the bed, he said, "And this little sweetheart here is my daughter Megan. She loves Rags as much as you. Almost." Pointing to Honey, he said, "And this is my lovely wife, Honey." "Oh Alaric," Honey said, "you'll never know how grateful I'll always be to your Rags. He saved me from a fifteen-foot-long diamond-back rattler! He was all curled up and ready to strike when this precious, precious puppy jumped up on me and knocked me down before the giant reptile could bite me and saved my life! Of course I had to be rushed to the hospital for the trauma and cuts and bruises he caused, but he nonetheless saved my life!" Alaric saw the contortion on Chris's face as Honey told her story. Honey was given to exaggeration. The news of Mona Morgan's death was devastating, especially to Alma who had grown very fond of her, and if it hadn't been for the blessing of Alaric's recovery and Honey to take her mind off the terrible events, she might quite possibly have descended into a state of depression not unlike the one when Eric and Belinda were suddenly killed in a car crash. In the days to come, it was decided that instead of a new wing, a semidetached memorial chapel would be constructed and dedicated to Mona Morgan. The plans called for the room where Alaric had been to be gutted and the chapel, itself, built on the very spot where the garden had once been, extending far out beyond the fence. Plans called for it to be a place of harmony and worship for all faiths, all inclusive. The colonnaded main entrance will be through an extended garden on the western side where patients and the public alike can rest, eat, and enjoy the peaceful ambience of the magnificent Mojave desert, day or night. In memory of Tom, the main fountain in the middle will have bronze caricatures of pussycats and their toys. Some of the statues will be in the water as if playfully trying to catch the fishes. Another entrance to the chapel from the inside of the hospital, which had been Alaric's room, would serve as a second vestibule. There would be separate living quarters constructed for a chaplain. Alma thought about including Tom in the bronze memorial dedication plaque, but decided against it. Who would know or who could possibly understand the love, purpose and fulfillment they each gave the other in their final years? To Honey's delight, Alma offered to have the mental ward on the second floor remodeled, and placed her in charge. It would be refurbished and refurnished. She gave Honey final authority on the internal design plans which might answer for some of the slightly garish colors. The patients in the ward were overjoyed at the confusion and distractions brought about by the construction crew, especially Old Zeke. Honey had a genuine U S Navy issue solid brass port hole salvaged from an old mothballed ship in Bremerton installed just for him. She had a brass relief of an old Navy anchor mounted on the wall over his head. On the wall over Bernie's head, she had brass reliefs of a mother duck with five ducklings—all in a row—headed east. On the wall over Sam's head, she had brass reliefs of a mother duck with five ducklings—all in a row—headed west. Out of deference to Sam, his ducks were painted green. Sam, who was colorblind, would complain to his dying day that he had wanted green ducks instead of "them yella ducks" Honey had mounted on the wall over his bed. Lucille offered to keep Megan while the rest of them took a much deserved short vacation. As promised, Honey and Alma went to Las Vegas for a complete "make-over." As fate would have it, she was having a facial at the time, and did not hear her cell phone ring, which was in her handbag. If she had been able to see the display panel on the phone, she would have seen that the call was coming from Alexandria. George and Chris rented a motor home and took Alaric and Rags to a secluded cabin on a lake high in the mountains for a little rest and recreation. It was almost dusk as the oversized vehicle trundled its way out of the flatlands and into the foothills. Nobody—not even Rags—saw the yellow eyes watching from the shadows of the mirages of the great Mojave desert. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest, — Release 28 David Butler, Mokestar@aol.com, Mokestar@aol.com November 29, 2002 Chapter Eight—Continued "GERMINAL"—Continued Release 28 "There's a restaurant up ahead," Chris said. "You guys want to stop for a bite to eat?" "Yeah," Alaric said, "I'm starved. I have got to get something solid in my stomach." "Hold on, Alaric," George said. "You heard what your doctor said about eating so soon after your recovery, and I promised Alma I would make sure you didn't "overdo." That was one of the reasons she let you and Rags come with us. Remember, my boy," George continued, elbowing Chris and winking, "this little fishing trip is for you and Rags. Chris and I just came along for the ride. Ain't that right, Chris?" "Sure is," Chris replied, smiling. He pulled the huge RV into the parking lot of "Jones's Angus Steak House." Once they were seated, Chris left the table to visit the restroom. While he was away, Alaric seemed to be fidgeting in his seat as if he had something on his mind. "Is something wrong, Alaric?" George asked. "Well, I know when we went shopping for my new clothes back in Vegas, you paid for everything." "What's wrong with that? Alaric, you're more my brother than my nephew. Remember Bill and Alma raised me too. I'm only seventeen years older than you. Your dad and I were just like brothers. I didn't mind buying your clothes. I wanted to." "That's not the point, sir..." "What's with all this formality? You don't have to call me ‘sir,'" and you don't have to call me ‘uncle,' just call me George, the same as you've always done. Did something happen to your mind while you were in the hospital, or did you just suddenly develop a huge case of ‘the polites?'" "Well, I haven't seen you in so long, and I need to ask a favor of you, but I don't want Mr. Colt to hear." "Call me Chris, Alaric," Chris said, sitting down. "Oh," Alaric said. "It seems," George said, "we've caught Alaric at an awkward moment." "Don't mind me, Alaric," Chris said. "Go ahead and spill your guts." "Well, it's just that when my car blew up, everything I had went with it. I had taken my wallet out to give my driver's license to Mr., uh Chris, and well, the truth of it is, sir, I don't have any money. If you could lend me a little, not much, until I can get to a bank, I would really like to pay for the dinner tonight." "Oh, I see," George said, jokingly, "I'm invited to dinner if I bring the duck, huh?" "I'll pay you back as soon as I can get all my papers again." George reached into his wallet and withdrew a credit card. "Here," he said, handing it to Alaric. "Here's my American Express card. Keep it for as long as you like. And you don't have to pay me back. I should have realized you didn't have any money. I'm sorry. I'll get you some cash at the next ATM we come to." "Hey," Chris said, "I was going to buy dinner tonight." "You can get it when the girls get up here," George said, laughing. "Can I get something for Rags, too?" Alaric asked. "Alaric, you don't seem to understand, it is your card. I give it to you. Forever and ever. Get whatever you want whenever you want," George said, then adding as an afterthought, "As long as it's something that's easy to digest. Remember, Alma's women's intuition is fine-tuned to perfection. She can detect deceit a hundred miles away." "Can I have a kosher hot dog?" "As many as you like." "Good," Alaric said, "I'll have four." "Four?" George asked. "Two for me and two for Rags." "Okay, but no mustard." "Okay." Chris had an end-cut and George had rare prime rib. "Where's Grandpa?" "Alexandria." "Where's the Belinda?" "Alexandria." Alaric excused himself and took the hot dogs out to the RV, explaining that he was going to have his dinner with Rags. Rags was ecstatic to see him. They ate inside the RV. Rags jumped up on the breakfast table bench and Alaric sliced his hot dogs into bite-sized chunks. When they finished eating, Alaric asked Rags if he wanted to go on a potty-walk. "Thought you'd never ask! You got the pooper-scooper?" "No, but I got a plastic bag." "Let's go." As Rags and Alaric walked into the edge of the woods, both of them knew that a spiritual bond, stronger than blood, had permanently been forged between their souls, and that no matter what, nothing this side of heaven could ever weaken or break it. Any attempt would only result in making it stronger. Their lives and their destinies were forever linked in time. And although neither of them realized it at the moment, it had already been decreed at the Quaternion Altar. The two of them, together, had been brought beyond the point of no return and crossed over it. There was no way back, even if they wanted to. The RV reached the cabin early the next morning. Rags explored the lay-of-the-land while Chris and George unloaded the vehicle. Alaric, still enormously weak, insisted on climbing the stairs to the top of the landing on his own. Although Chris and George tried to ignore him, they couldn't help furtively watching his every step. They both breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the top. Mr. Thompson, the handyman and caretaker, had made everything ready for the arriving party, including towels, linens, and firewood. Alma and Honey spent three days in Vegas shopping, getting pampered and seeing the shows. And although every second of every minute was spent wondering about Alaric, she had promised George that she would not bother them. "Give him a chance," he had said. "He needs to go fishing, swimming and relaxing without a mother-hen hovering over him. Remember what Dr. Jenkins said, ‘He's going to seem almost juvenile until he completely regains his mental faculties. He needs to rediscover himself.' Be patient." Alma put her trust in George and with Chris there to help him, there's no doubt he'll recover more quickly without her there. She would be glad when William got back. Alaric made it to the top of the landing without help from anybody. Rags watched as he slowly made his way over to an old rocking chair and sat down, then came over and lay down beside him. Before Mr. Thompson took their bags to the room, he looked at Rags and said, "Cats around here. Big cats. Coyotes too. Rags sniffed the crisp, clear mountain air. "He's right. Bears too." "Yeah? Well, you just make sure you don't get out of my sight!" "I won't. You scared?" "Nah, but those coyotes are a cagey lot. Cats, too. And they just love hot dogs." "That's not funny, Alaric. Which one is our bedroom?" "I don't know. Ask Uncle George." "George. He said to call him George." "George." "He's busy right now. He's on the phone." George had called Marie and asked her to call American Express and change the name on his account to Alaric's and issue him a new card. The current card was to remain active until such time as a new one could be issued in Alaric's name alone. All invoices for both accounts were to be sent to him at his Boston address. He had her transfer an undisclosed sum from his bank account into a bank account specifically for Alaric with checks and cards to be shipped overnight express to the small resort town of Fayette, the nearest post office to the cabin. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Eight—Continued "GERMINAL"—Continued Release 29 — December 6, 2002 The rest of the day Rags spent exploring the grounds and the immediate area at the edge of the forest. Alaric took him down to the dock where the boats were docked. There was a cabin cruiser and an inboard on one side of the dock and an outboard on the other side. "Want to take a little ride out on the lake?" Alaric asked. "Not unless Chris and George come with us," Rags said. "How about if we took the dinghy?" "Not unless Chris and George comes with us." Dreamily Alaric looked out over the lake. The sun was beginning to set and the lake was alive with the glittering reflections of the sky's colors. It was hard to tell where the lake ended and the sky began. "I've always loved this place. It's always been a safe place for me. Full of memories of my mom and dad before they died. This was our ‘getaway,' our safe haven, our chance to be alone with each other. We were a family. When I was a boy, my dad used to sneak into my bedroom in the mornings and wake me up early and we would go skinny dipping down on the dock before Mom woke up. He used to pretend he was a shark and attack me from beneath. I remember, I used to scream in pretend terror. We would play in the water until Mom called us to breakfast. We could smell the bacon cooking all the way down to the dock." "Your mom and dad must have been very special." "They were. Grandma says I look just like my dad. After we finished breakfast my dad and I would clean up the kitchen and Mom would put on her bathing suit and come down for a dip. The waters are cold, but not freezing — refreshing." Chris and George had taken the fishing boat out and were just returning with the supper. While George cleaned the "catch," Chris built a bonfire and another fire in the outdoor grill. While the conversation remained definitely masculine, the bucolic setting, and eating around the campfire made supper exquisitely delicious. Rags had never had fresh fish before in his life, and for a moment, he had a new favorite dish — fish. As the evening wore on and the talk grew quieter, the men grew weary. Together that night they solved all of the most dreadful problems plaguing the world today. Finally the campfire went out and they all retired to the cabin. After the deaths of his parents, whenever they visited the cabin, Alma insisted that Alaric be given the master bedroom that had once belonged to his mother and father. Even after all these years, whenever he would first enter this bedroom, he could still see his mother and father laughing and getting ready for bed. Alaric had gotten a bed for Rags before leaving Las Vegas and Mr. Thompson placed it on the floor so that it would be next to Alaric's bed. The bedroom had an outside deck and a fireplace. Since the evenings were cool, either Chris or George — probably George — had had the forethought to build a fire. George's bedroom was just across the hall and Chris's was at the other end of the house. The deck connected all of the bedrooms on the second floor. Alaric was tired and went to bed early. He put Rags in bed and covered him up and got into his own bed. At the exact moment the light went off, the coyotes starting yelping in the forest near the house. "What was that?" Rags asked. "Coyotes." Rags stood up and shook off his blanket and jumped up in Alaric's bed. "What are you doing? You have your own bed." "Don't be afraid, I'll protect you." Rags said. "I'm not afraid," Alaric said. "Good," Rags said, "I can protect you better if I'm up here in your bed with you." The coyotes yelped again and some other nocturnal animal made a noise. "Can you close the door to the outside deck?" "Sure," Alaric said, and turned the lamp back on, got out of bed, and closed the door to the deck. He put Rags back in his own bed and covered him up. He got back in bed, turned the lamp off and lay back down. As soon as the light went out, the coyotes howled and yelped again. Rags got up, shook off his blanket and jumped in bed with Alaric. "I have to protect you," Rags said. "Okay," Alaric said, and raised the covers. Rags crawled under the covers and lay his head on Alaric's pillow. Alaric sighed and pulled the covers up to Rags's chin and turned over on his other side and back to back, the two of them went to sleep. The next morning Rags woke Alaric up with angelkisses. "Wake up Alaric. I can't get out and there's no doggie door." "Rags, It's only six o'clock. Go back to sleep." "I can't sleep. I'm too excited. Open the door." Alaric got up and opened the door. "Want to come down to the dock with me?" "Might as well. As long as I'm awake." Still in his pajamas, Alaric took Rags down to the dock. "Let's go skinny-dipping!" Rags said. "Are you crazy? Do you know how cold that water is?" "Come on," Rags said. "Last one in is a rotten egg." Quickly Alaric took off his pajamas and dove into the frigid water. Rags stood on the dock, grinning. "I guess I'm the rotten egg!" he said. Alaric swam back to the dock and grabbed Rags and pulled him into the water. "Not only are you a rotten egg," Alaric said, "but now you have that ‘wet dog' smell." Hearing the commotion, George grabbed some towels and called Chris and they eagerly ran down to the dock and joined in the frivolity. They were all four in the water when they saw Honey's minivan pulled up to the front of the cabin. "Quick, Chris," George said, "grab the towels!" Hurriedly, the men got out of the water and wrapped the towels around themselves. "Well, if this isn't every woman's dream?" Honey said. Alma, seeing Alaric shivering from the cold water, came down and helped dry him off. Rags shook himself, successfully dampening her spirits as well as her slacks. "Rags! You little scamp! How dare you!" she laughed. She took Alaric back to the cabin and helped him up the stairs. When Alaric went inside to get dressed, she got a towel and dried Rags, who covered her with angelkisses. Honey had already started breakfast and the smell of bacon reminded Alaric of times long ago when he was a little boy and his mother and father would bring him here for vacation. Later that day Alaric packed one of the coolers and took Rags out on the inboard. Alma marveled at how quickly his physical strength was returning. She almost asked him not to go, but thought better of it. Instead, she crossed her fingers and said a prayer for him. Alaric took them all the way to the other side of the lake and into a small hidden cove around the bend. There, completely hidden from view was an old wooden dock. Alaric steered the boat up to the dock and grabbing a line, belayed the boat to a cleat. "C'mon," he said, grabbing the cooler. "What's this place?" Rags said. "It's my secret hide-a-way. My dad built it for me." Alaric and Rags walked up an overgrown path. As they rounded a bend in the path, they came upon an old log cabin. "This is the first time I've been here since the accident," Alaric said. He pushed on the door. It was frozen shut from lack of use. The hinges creaked as the ancient door reluctantly gave way. As they walked inside, Rags saw an old wooden table, some bunks, and old fireplace made of fieldstone and a fully stocked cupboard. The dust had settled over everything and the curtains that his mother had made for the windows were now in shreds. "We used to camp out here," Alaric said. He walked over to the woodbin and got a broom and swept the dust off the table and one of the chairs. An old wooden chest in one of the corners still held the blankets and linens that had been so carefully put away by his mother the last time they were here. He took one of the blankets and laid it out on the floor for Rags to lie on. Going out the back door of the cabin, Alaric took Rags up on a trail that had been used for hiking. "Where are we going?" Rags asked. "Just showing you around." As the two of them continued up the trail, they came upon a clearing. The trees had made a virtual canopy over their heads. "Isn't this place beautiful? I have a secret swimming hole back here. I used to come here when I was a kid. Sometimes I would spend two or three days up here all by myself. Sometimes, even now, I pretend that I'm here and that my mom and dad are still alive. Somehow I feel closer to them in this secret place. It's quiet, peaceful. I know it sounds cliché-ish, but when I'm here, I feel closer to God... at one with Nature." Alaric took off his backpack and sat down on the ground and leaned back against an old maple tree. He reached into his backpack and withdrew a bag. Alma had made peanut and jelly sandwiches for him and there were kosher hot dogs in another sandwich bag for Rags. "So, what do you say?" Alaric started. "Is this place good enough for our little tête-à-tête, or would you feel more comfortable back inside the cabin?" "This is fine with me. It looks as if it's going to rain. Do we have any firewood? I mean, just in case we have to make a run for it." "Woodbin's full." Alaric settled back and took a bite of his sandwich and gave Rags a hot dog. "Legend has it, and I know it to be true..." Rags started. "How do you know it to be true?" "Trust me on this," Rags said. "If you've never believed anything else in your life, you must trust what I am about to tell you. Listen carefully." The sky was beginning to cloud up and Alaric could hear the distant rumblings of thunder. It's not too far back to the log cabin, he thought. Still, these mountain thunderstorms can be quite sudden and treacherous. Maybe we should start back to the cabin now, he thought. As Rags began his story, he felt a nagging sense of foreboding. Something was wrong — very wrong. He tried to ignore this feeling, but it persisted. He looked back at Rags and could almost see him formulating his story in his mind. He thought he saw something moving out in the brush just beyond the clearing. Maybe we should start back to the cabin. We'll have to ride the storm out there and when it was over get back to the main cabin across the lake. He looked back at Rags. Rags was talking to him. What was he saying? To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest — Release 30 CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Eight—Continued "GERMINAL"—Continued Release 30 "Of course it was written a long, long time ago." "How long ago?" Alaric asked. "Roughly nineteen hundred years ago, something like that." "That would put us in the first century A.D." "Yeah. Now that's when it was written, not when it happened." he added as an afterthought." "When what happened?" "This event. Now I'm number Two-One-Oh, and this was first chronicled by number One-Five." "One-Five?" Alaric asked. "Yeah. Fifteen." "Why didn't you just say you were number Fifteen?" "'Cause I'm number Two-One-Oh. "Oh." "That's how many "greats" there are to the beginning of this quest. You know, generations. I could rephrase it using an exponentiation, but that would involve complex mathematical formulae based on natural logarithms too complicated for your brain right now, so I just numbered the ‘greats." It works out to roughly the same." "I see," Alaric said, looking somewhat dubious. "Wanna hear all the ‘begats?'" "No." "Okay, Grandfather Number One-Five was the loving and constant companion of Lucanus, our own dear and glorious physician, also known as Saint Luke. Now the way the story goes—and this is how it came down to me—was that One-Five's great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, Zero, was the very first shepweiler in recorded history to contribute his magnificent skills and service to this glorious quest. "Why are you using numbers instead of names?" Alaric asked. "You'll understand later," Rags answered, "bear with me." "What happened to the written text?" Alaric asked. "I should think that anything Saint Luke had written would still be around today." "One would think so," Rags said. "Alas, some of the original text was in the great library of Alexandria being translated from Greek into other Indo-European languages. Theodosius the Great, in his zeal to destroy all things Pagan, also destroyed the great library in the year 391. By that act alone modern civilization was deprived of most of its ancient history. These chronicles were among those priceless works that were also destroyed, but we'll talk about that another time." "This part of the story begins when Zacharias tarried so long in the temple ‘cause he was struck dumb for doubting the angel Gabriel when he told him that his wife, Elisabeth, was going to have a baby. You see, Zacharias knew that Elisabeth was barren, ‘cause all them hill doctors in Judea told her that she couldn't have any babies. Well, you really couldn't blame him for being a little skeptical. All the same, though, in them days—or these days either, for that matter—you just didn't go around doubting any angels. I mean, when one of them angels tells you something, you just keep your mouth shut, or say, ‘Sure enough?'" "You're not fixin' to start blaspheming, are you?" "Heck, no! You think I want to be struck dumb like old Zacharias? Or worse, they might make me have to start moving my lips when I talk. That would be tragic. It would be almost like being a human being!" "What's wrong with being a human being?" "Well, nothing, I suppose, but if I had my druthers I'd druther be an angel than a human being any day. You've heard the expression, ‘It's a dog's life?' Now one thing you always want to keep in mind is to never do anything that would cause one of them angels to get you in his sights, because if he does, he's gonna make you be good. And I do mean good! Your days of pussyfootin' around with all them ‘fast men and loose women' are over, because if he catches you, you are in deep trouble. And trust me, he will catch you, ‘cause once an angel tells you to do something, he's going to keep his eye on you from then on, just to make sure you don't backslide. Mind you, now, I ain't saying that's all bad, but sin is one of them things I kinda like to tiptoe around. You know what I mean?" "I know what you mean!" "But wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. We have to go all the way back to the beginning." "I thought we were at the beginning." "No," Rags said, "I only took you back to Zero. Before we get to that part, we have to go further back." "How far back?" "Thousands of years BZ. Beyond ancient times, to the days of the cavemen. Yes. All the way back to the great family of Gorg." "Gorg?" "In the land of Jod." "Jod?" "Feel free to interrupt anytime you feel I'm getting ahead of you." "That'll be the day." "Hmmph," Rags said. Just then a huge thunderclap struck overhead. "It's fixing to rain. Maybe we should get back to the cabin." "Good idea." The two companions stood up and started back to the cabin. "I hope you packed a good lunch," Rags said. "Grandma packed it, so, you know it's full of goodies!" "I got dibs on the kosher hot dogs." "I'm sure she packed enough for both of us." After he built the fire in the fireplace, Alaric opened the ice chest. It was packed full of sandwiches, hot dogs (kosher), apple pie, sodas, beef jerky, dog biscuits, individual packets of Moist and Meaty (another of Rags's favorites), and plenty of cookies and snacking foods. "She must have thought we were going to be here for a week the way she packed things," Rags said. "No," Alaric said, "She just knows how I like to eat." "Me, too," Rags said. It was getting dark, now, and the rain had started. The thunder was louder than ever, and the lightning strikes seemed to be getting closer and closer. The weather was something, however, that never affected the Greesehobbin, and he patiently waited and watched as the two companions enjoyed the company of each other by the warm fireplace. After they finished eating, Alaric poured some milk in a bowl for Rags. Alma had remembered to pack a bottle of wine and some cheese, beef stick, summer sausage and crackers. Alaric took a sip of the wine, he thought of his grandmother and how truly fortunate he was to have been born into this family. He could not have survived without her. He drank a toast to her. Reading his mind, Rags said, "I"ll drink to that," and had some more milk. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE YEARNING HEART" Release 31 As the storm got progressively worse, the main cabin lost power. Chris and George went out to the utility shed and started the generator. When they got back, George asked Alma whether they should go looking for Alaric and Rags. Alma declined, saying that Alaric needs to have time on his own to rebuild his ego and reestablish his self-confidence. "Besides," she explained, "It's the first time he's been back to that fishing cabin since Eric and Belinda were with him. Leave him alone. He has Rags and he has a cell-phone. If he needs me, he'll call." Another loud thunderclap sounded right overhead and Honey moved closer to Chris. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. "I think we could all do with a little brandy," George said, taking down the snifters, "just to take the chill off the evening." "Great idea," Chris said. "I'll build a fire, and we can all sit around it and tell ghost stories." They all chuckled uneasily. "Have you heard from Bill?" George asked Alma. "He called this morning from Rome. The Belinda is back in Monaco. He's trying to get a flight back. He should be here in a couple of days at the most. He wanted to know how Alaric was." Back at the fishing cabin, Alaric had found some more candles and lit them. "The storm seems to be getting worse," he said. "These mountains are known for their sudden, powerful storms, but don't let that stop you from telling your story. You've whetted my appetite, now. You were going to tell me all about Gorg. Who or what is Gorg?" "Well, to tell you about Gorg," Rags said, "we must go back thousands of years BZ": Gorg lived far to the north in the land of Jod. The story begins after Gorg's father forced him to leave the family, as was the custom in those days. It was in the spring, and he had just begun to establish his independence. He was becoming more of a liability to his father than an asset. Gorg hung around for a couple of weeks, but when he saw that his father was not going to let him back in, he finally moved on. He traveled into the nearby mountains without any food, except what he found along the way, eating berries and an occasional small animal that he had managed to trap or spear. Sometimes he would stop and catch some fish in the mountain streams. It was while he was in such a place that he discovered his new home. He had just reached the top of one of the mountain peaks and looking down the other side he discovered a breathtakingly verdant valley flourishing with wildlife. A stream, almost the size of a river cascaded down the far side forming a small waterfall that fed a huge ice-blue lake. The lake was surrounded by lush green meadows. Beyond the meadows was a thick forest. From his perch on top of the mountain Gorg could see elk, deer and bear. As he descended into the valley, he discovered a natural opening in the side of the mountain that with a little help could be turned into a good home. Game would come to the lake to drink and it had to have fish. Gorg's father had taught him the fundamental skills for survival, such as how to hunt and fish and fashion spears and tools. When he wasn't hunting, he was digging his cave deeper. It had to be ready to live in by the time winter came. He had made a ninety-degree turn just inside the cave to keep the wind from blowing directly into it. The hides he got from the animals he killed, he naturally tanned in the sun and later stored inside the cave. As spring turned into summer and summer to autumn, Gorg felt the need more than ever for companionship. Winter would be upon him before long. One of his hunting trips last summer had taken him to the other side of the mountain. There he met another hunter by the name of Uru. Uru was a cautious man and at first Gorg thought he was going to kill him, but Oola, Uru's wife, whispered something to him. Uru smiled, and instead of killing him, invited him to stay the night, explaining that it would be too late to make it back to his valley. Oola reminded Uru that they had a daughter, and daughters can sometimes be more burdensome than sons. Besides, daughters — pretty ones — can bring a hefty sum should he decide to sell her. Oola made a special meal that evening and made sure that her daughter was cleaned and wearing her finest. During dinner, Uru noticed that his daughter found Gorg fascinating and could not take her eyes off him. This was good, thought Uru. She found him fascinating. Gorg thought that Uru's daughter was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The minute he first heard her name spoken, he was helplessly, hopelessly in love. All the way back to his home in the secret valley he smiled and skipped and jumped and practiced throwing his spear at nothing and sang her name over and over. "Leal. The most beautiful name in the world. Leal. Leal. The most beautiful girl in the world." And keeping a healthy distant, the big, black wolf never lost sight of his new companion. Gorg made two more trips to see her that summer, but Uru wouldn't let him anywhere near her. Uru had told him that Leal was untainted and worth many skins. Still, Gorg never gave up. Leal, he determined, would be his and his alone. No matter what. They bargained for the skins, but Uru warned him that he would not wait. He told him that there were others who wanted his beautiful daughter. Gorg, however, told Uru that a deal was a deal and that he would get the skins. He warned Uru not to sell her to anybody else. At first Uru started to object, but seeing the look in Gorg's eyes gave him cause to think better of it. This was not a man to be trifled with, thought Uru. Still, he thought, I believe I might be able to get more for her. Seeing his daughter watching him, he slapped her across her face with his brutish hand and told her to go get more water. Oola started to object, but Uru struck her before she could say anything. If Gorg had seen Uru hit Leal, there would have been bloodshed in the land of Jod that day. Winter arrived with a vengeance. Gorg woke up shivering under his blanket skins. The fire he had built had long since gone out and the skins he had hanging up at the entrance to the cave were frozen solid from last night's blizzard. He jumped out of bed, which consisted of straw and bear skins. It had been two days since he had last eaten and his stomach was growling in rebellion. He walked over to the entrance and tossed the skin curtain aside and stepped outside. The snow was more than a foot deep. He went back inside and tied on the skins he had fashioned for shoes and got his spear. Before he left, he sat down on a boulder and sharpened the tip of his spear with a stone. As he sharpened the spear, he looked back at the entrance to the cave. Had the wolf shown up last night? The bed of straw he had laid out was not covered with snow, so, that meant that something had slept there last night. He was the blackest wolf Gorg had ever seen. The two of them had formed an uneasy alliance over the last few months. It had started one day after he had killed an elk. He had been extremely unlucky the last few times he had gone hunting, and all the game had been able to elude him. He had just given up again and had started back home when suddenly an enormous buck darted out of the brush running straight toward him. Gorg couldn't believe his luck. He literally had to jump out of the way to keep from getting run down. Even though he was running, his spear found its way straight into the heart of the buck. Gorg couldn't believe his luck. Later, as he was dressing the animal, he couldn't help noticing the most emaciated black wolf watching him from the safety of the forest. Gorg knew immediately what had happened. The wolf had deliberately maneuvered the elk toward him, knowing that Gorg would have to clean the animal where it fell, thereby leaving a portion on the ground where he could then help himself to the leftovers. Realizing this, Gorg cut off the choicest piece of meat and left it for the wolf. Later that evening as Gorg was roasting his supper over the outside fire, he could hear the lone wolf howling. And although the sound was painfully sorrowful, Gorg also knew that the wolf was thanking him. "Thank you!" Gorg shouted back into the darkness. After that they were inseparable — albeit distant — friends. The next time Gorg saw the wolf was a few days later when he noticed footprints in the snow around the outside firepit and near the entrance to the cave. So, Gorg thought, you're getting bolder. Next time I'll leave a little tidbit of meat just inside the curtain. See if I can get you to come inside. Gorg had noticed that the black wolf had developed a taste for cooked, rather than raw meat. That's good, he thought. They had both taken their first hesitant steps toward friendship and had found it to their liking. Gorg had chosen this place because it was near a lake and even though the lake would freeze over in the winter, he had learned how to dig a hole in the ice to catch fish. There was a small volcanic spring not too far from the cave that remained thawed all year round. The water was so warm, there was perpetual steam hovering above it. Gorg loved to soak there, even on the coldest of days, the water was always the same. It relaxed his muscles and made his feet and his back and neck feel better. Thousands of years later, men would be willing to hock their future for privileges such as this. He remembered the last time he had been in the springs, he caught the big black wolf watching him with what appeared to be amused interest from the forest at the edge of the clearing. He always made sure he had a fire going back inside the cave, and when he got out of the water, he had to make a mad dash for it. He swore the wolf was laughing at him. The wolf was learning the routine, however, and after his bath, he knew that Gorg would come back outside and roast supper over the fire. Gorg never failed to reward the wolf for his help. He always ate first as the wolf watched from afar. This night Gorg took a few steps toward the wolf just to see if he would let him approach him. The wolf disappeared into the forest. Disappointed, Gorg went back to the log he had placed alongside the outside firepit and wondered aloud, "Where's your pack, boy? What happened to you? Were you too smart for the rest of them?" Hearing Gorg's gentle voice, the wolf reappeared at the edge of the clearing, and just stood there and watched, patiently, but keeping his distance. As time passed the two companions became more accustomed to each other, and on subsequent hunting trips, each learned his position and what was expected of him. They were honing their hunting skills almost to perfection. Gorg knew it would be only a matter of time before he would be able to get him to come inside the cave, but right now the wolf was still unsure. Unsure, but with a yearning heart. Gorg enjoyed sitting around the fire and talking to the wolf at night, even though they were all one-way conversations. He felt that the wolf enjoyed Gorg's voice. And later after Gorg had gone to bed, the wolf talked back by howling outside the cave. Gorg would lie awake at nights and listen to him howl in vain. Never did the lone wolf get an answer. As Gorg started out on this hunting trip, he caught glimpses and flashes of black as the wolf dashed between the trees, first on one side and then the other. He was amazed at the ease with which the wolf could scamper through the snow and switch sides without ever being seen. Gorg told him that this was a special hunting trip this time. We have to get something this time, he told him. Even though, the entire day was spent hunting in vain. They walked all morning and all afternoon. Finally, they had to start back for home. Gorg was crestfallen. They had not killed anything in days and they were both hungry. He could tell the wolf was trying, though. He kept getting glimpses of him as they traveled back. Suddenly he heard such a commotion in the underbrush, he jumped. Heading out away from the wolf in all directions were three rabbits. One was heading straight for him. Gorg took careful aim. "Got him!" he laughed. But the wolf kept after the rabbits until he caught one of his own. He picked it up and disappeared in the forest. Later, on the way back to the cave, Gorg saw the second hare lying on the ground directly in front of him.. "I see," Gorg laughed, "You want me to cook your rabbit too. Well, I guess you deserve it, but I'm keeping the skin for myself. Tomorrow we'll get us a bear, though." That night as Gorg cooked the rabbit carcasses over the open flame, the wolf ventured closer than ever. He got just close enough to feel the warmth of the fire, but not so close that he couldn't make a run for it. Gorg was fair. The rabbit that the wolf caught was all his. He had earned it. He deserved it. As the two of them sat there watching the hares roast over the fire, Gorg turned to the wolf and studied him. The animal was immense, coal-black, like a shadow. "What are you called?" Gorg asked, speaking directly to the wolf. The big, black wolf just sat there staring at him. He had gained a lot of his weight back since he and Gorg had become friends, and his coat was more beautiful than ever, shiny and wavy. Knowing he would not get an answer to his question, Gorg said, "Because you are so black, I think Shadow would be a good name for you, but a name like Shadow is not good enough for so magnificent a creature as yourself. Black as smoke, you are. I think I'll call you Smoke!" Upon hearing his name spoken by a human tongue for the first time, the big wolf jumped. Seeing this, Gorg threw him a piece of the cooked hare, saying, "Here, Smoke, catch!" Smoke caught it. He devoured the hare, literally pulverizing the bones in his powerful jaws. Tomorrow they would be stronger, and he and Gorg would be able to hunt better. "Tomorrow they would get a bear!" Gorg had said. With bellies full, Gorg and Smoke slept well that night. Gorg on the inside and Smoke on the outside. Later that night as Smoke howled, Gorg walked outside to see. The moon was at the full and Gorg could see the great wolf silhouetted against the steam from the spring that was eerily snaking its way gently into the midnight sky. Could he be hearing things? Gorg thought that he heard the faintest sound of another wolf. No. No. He must be mistaken. Smoke howled again. It was a most forlorn sound. He listened for an answer. No. Nothing. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE YEARNING HEART" Release 32 The next day was more successful than the day before. Smoke kept running toward Gorg and then away from him, indicating that he wanted Gorg to follow him. He led Gorg to a male deer that was preoccupied tamping through the crusted snow looking for any blades of grass that hadn't already been eaten. This would be an easy kill. Gorg made quick work of the deer and was just about to skin the animal when Smoke started growling. "What's wrong, boy?" Gorg asked. Smoke didn't move; he just kept looking into the woods and growling. It was a low, guttural growl and at first Gorg thought he was growling at him. He looked in the direction Smoke was staring and saw, to his amazement, a snow leopard in a tree not more than twenty feet away. He was already in the crouching position, ready to pounce. Gorg froze. Smoke circled around to the other side of the leopard hoping to divert him, but the leopard's eyes were fixed on the kill. He's hungry, Gorg thought, just like us. Gorg looked around and saw where he had dropped his spear. It was between the fallen deer and the leopard. He started to step over the fallen deer and the leopard crouched down further on his haunches and opened his mouth wide with a roar that sent chills down Gorg's spine. Gorg froze again. Slowly, Gorg tried going around the deer, but the leopard roared again. With the leopard's attention on Gorg, Smoke stealthily made his way to the other side of the leopard. Sensing a trap, the leopard quickly glanced over at Smoke. With the leopard's attention focused on Smoke, Gorg jumped over the deer and grabbed his spear. Quickly the leopard looked back at Gorg. Gorg gradually raised his spear and tried taking a step back. The leopard roared again. Smoke came around from behind and tried jumping up on the tree. Again the leopard turned his attention toward Smoke and with one bound was on top of Smoke. The leopard's fangs sank deep into Smoke's shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, the leopard saw Gorg rushing him. In a blur the leopard spun around and leapt on Gorg knocking him down. Smoke ran over to where the leopard was mauling Gorg and started snapping at his sides. Then, without warning the leopard turned toward Smoke and lashed out. The leopard's mighty claw caught Smoke and ripped open his right flank. Smoke yelped and jumped out of the way. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the leopard stopped and looked at Smoke as if puzzled. Smoke watched as the leopard's eyes glazed over, and with a mighty thud fell to the ground. He watched in wonder as the leopard just lay there on Gorg neither one moving. After what seemed an eternity Smoke heard a groan. It was Gorg trying to get out from under the leopard. This time Smoke did not run, but sat and watched as Gorg clawed himself out from under the leopard. Gorg put snow in his wounds to stop the bleeding. He tried to get close enough to Smoke to inspect his wounds, but Smoke backed away. He kept his distance and licked his wounds. Gorg studied the magnificent snow leopard's carcass. When he leapt on Gorg, Gorg straightened his spear and drove it straight into the heart of the beast. Even with his wounds Gorg worked late into the night getting the skins and meat back to the cave. He knew that if he left it, wild animals would devour it before sunrise. Sensing this, Smoke waited in excruciating pain by the kill as Gorg drug first one carcass, then the other, back to the cave. This was his first snow leopard. The skin alone would be prized above all the others. One snow leopard skin was worth twenty of the others. He pictured Leal wearing it, and then realized that he would have to use it to pay for her and that she would never get to wear this one. But he was still young. There would be other snow leopards. He and Smoke would feast tonight! And as soon as this skin is ready we just might make another trip to see Leal's father. When he got the last of the food back to the cave, he expected Smoke to follow him, but he didn't. Gorg started a fire and put a big piece of the deer on a spit over it. He knew that when Smoke smelled the meat cooking he would appear. As the meat roasted, Gorg waited and looked in vain, Smoke did not show up. Gorg whistled and called. Still no Smoke. Gorg thought that when he started eating surely the great wolf would emerge from his hiding place. He was about halfway through his meal when he realized that something must be wrong. He dropped his food and picked up his spear and started back into the woods to look for Smoke in the night. When he got back to spot where the deer and the leopard were killed, he saw Smoke trying to stand up. He was surrounded by a pack of wolves. They knew that he was injured and were there for the scraps. Smoke was not trying to defend the scraps, he had lost so much blood, he was too weak to stand. The wolves were getting closer. Gorg raised his spear and roared, trying to sound as much like a leopard as he could. Perhaps it was the smell of the leopard on him, or perhaps it was just the sudden, unexpected sound that scared the wolf pack, but they panicked and ran back a few paces. All but one of them. A white one. This white one did not turn tail and run, but neither did it attack. It just stood there and watched. Unafraid. In that split second, Gorg, forsaking all sense of caution, rushed over to where Smoke lay and with one swoop picked him up and ran out of the clearing. The great white wolf made no motion to stop him, but it did follow. And all the way back to the cave Gorg kept getting glimpses of the white wolf keeping a short, but safe distance behind them. He cradled Smoke in his arms all the way back to the cave, talking gently to him, reassuring him, all the while keeping a wary eye over his shoulder for the great white wolf.. When he got him back to the cave, Gorg put some animal grease in Smoke's deep wounds and filled them with mud so that they would heal from the inside out. He made a bed of skins right next to his own bed inside the cave close to the fire and lay Smoke down on it. As he dropped to his knees to lay him down, Smoke feebly raised his head and with all the strength he had left in his being, gave Gorg an angelkiss. Gorg wiped away a tear and prayed to whatever gods there may be to save his only friend and companion. That was the longest night Gorg had ever lived. He stayed awake all night long keeping watch over Smoke. He kept the fire going and he kept Smoke covered. He tried to sleep, but couldn't. He got up and walked down to the spring and then back again. Every time he ventured more than a few feet from the mouth of the cave, he would catch glimpses of the great white wolf. He wondered why the other wolves didn't accept Smoke. He wondered why this magnificent creature had chosen himself to befriend. He gathered more fire wood and threw it on the fire. He took some water inside to Smoke in case he woke up and would be thirsty. He put some fresh cooked meat from the deer the two of them had killed that day. He listened to the wolves' howls and wondered why they were howling. He wondered whether they were going to try to take the kill and he wondered whether they wanted to finish what they had started with Smoke. This white wolf was different—something to be reckoned with. He kept his spear handy and the fire going. The white wolf circled the periphery of the clearing to the cave, always keeping a safe distance, just out of reach of Gorg's spear. As dawn approached, the howling ceased. Gorg looked up just in time to see the great white wolf disappear into the misty forest. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE YEARNING HEART"...Continued Release 33 Gorg kept close watch over Smoke, leaving his side only to go get more water or food. Infection set in the first week and fever followed. Everyday Gorg cleaned the wounds and tried to get Smoke to eat something, all to no avail. Finally, he had to go hunting for more food. He thought how much more difficult it would be without Smoke to help him. He gathered his spear and tied on his boots and started out. Before he left, he explained to Smoke that he would be gone for a while and told him not to give up hope. He didn't know whether Smoke understood him or not, but had the feeling that he did. Still, he might be in a state of delirium because of his fever, which showed no sign of abating. He carefully searched around the cave periphery to make sure the white wolf was nowhere around. When he didn't see it, he set out on his hunting trip. He took along enough victuals for two days. He set out in the same direction they had killed the snow leopard. It was lonely not having Smoke with him. The weather, he thought, was a lot colder than it had been on that fateful day. Before he got very far, it started snowing, and the wind starting blowing. I sure picked a fine time to go hunting, he thought. All the game has probably taken as much cover as they could find. Still he trudged on, hoping to find something anyway. Sometimes a snow storm is just the time to catch something, his smell wasn't as easily detected. The storm turned into a blizzard. Maybe I'd better go back to the cave, Gorg thought, and hunt another day, but instead he kept going forward. The storm got worse. Gorg finally decided to take his own advice and turned around. As he headed back to the cave the wind was blowing directly into his face so hard he couldn't tell which direction he was traveling. None of the familiar landmarks were discernible. He saw an old log that had fallen against the edge of an embankment, and thought that would be an ideal place to ride out the blizzard. By the time he made it to the log, night was falling. Gorg dropped to his knees and with his hands started shoveling the snow out from under it. All he needed was a space big enough to curl up in and wait out the blizzard. Gorg was grateful the opening to his makeshift shelter was on the leeward side of the log. He shoveled until he hit solid ground and smiled as he settled down. He pulled his pouch off his back and found some jerky. He thought about Smoke and wondered whether he missed him as much as he missed Smoke. He thought about having to return without having gotten any food. As he listened to the wind, his eyelids grew heavy, and before he fell asleep, his last thoughts were of Smoke. Not Leal. Back at the cave Smoke knew that Gorg had gone hunting without him and lay wishing he could have gone with him to help. He tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he flopped back down on his bed. He lay there listening to the sounds of the blizzard and was just about to fall asleep when he heard the now distinct sounds of the white wolf. Smoke did not answer, but curled up into a tighter circle and pulled his tail up over his nose. Gorg had fastened the skins over the entrance to the cave, but the blizzard apparently had ripped them loose and they made loud slapping noises as they furiously flapped in the wind. Smoke lay there not moving, watching as the last embers of the fire that Gorg had made before he left went out. Finally, after long last, he fell asleep. The next morning when Gorg woke up the winds had stopped blowing, but the snow had completely buried him. He tried to stand up, but his legs were stiff. He checked his pouch and found some dried venison that he had packed and ate some of it before setting off. After he finished, he threw his pouch over his shoulder and picked up his spear and started digging his way out. As he was digging out through the top, the handle of the spear broke through the back wall of his burrow and he lost his footing and slid down into a much larger cave. To his horror, he realized, too late, that he had stumbled into the cave of a hibernating bear. The bear, still confused, raised up on his hind legs towering over Gorg and roared. Gorg, still holding his spear, scrambled to stand up. Still confused, the bear watched in surprised wonder as Gorg scrambled back up to the entrance to the cave. Gorg thought he was free, but the bear started giving chase. As he got to the top, Gorg leaped on top of the fallen log. The bear roared out of the cave after him. Realizing he had no other choice, Gorg turned to face the huge bear. Having the advantage of height by standing on the log, Gorg threw his spear as hard as he could directly into the heart of the bear. The momentum of the bear caused him to fall onto the log breaking it in two. Gorg lost his footing, a branch on the log caught his right foot and pulled him around under the log. As he lay there trying to get the log off him, he could hear the bear moaning. He looked over his shoulder. The bear was crawling toward him. Gorg tried again. He couldn't move. His leg was firmly pinned. The bear crawled closer. Gorg could feel his hot breath on his face. He froze. The bear raised one of his mighty paws to strike, and Gorg closed his eyes and waited. The paw fell helpless across his chest. Gorg sighed with relief. The bear was dead. Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get the log off him. With his arms free, he tried to reach the spear to pull it out of the bear, but it wouldn't budge. It was firmly imbedded. Then Gorg remembered the knife that he had fashioned out of stone, that he used to clean the skins. He was able to fumble around until he felt it on his belt. He got the knife and started cutting the bear's claw. Once he severed the claw, he used it to dig the snow from around him. The claw proved to be a perfect digging tool. At one point he was so tired, he had to stop. He wanted to get free before darkness fell. After hours of digging, he was able to free one leg. He thought the other leg might be broken or frozen and that maybe his foot had frozen. He knew that no matter how tired he got, he had to get his other leg free. With enough digging, he was finally able to force himself to sit up and push the log off his foot. He tried to stand up and put some weight on his feet. The snow had done a pretty good job of keeping his feet warm. They had not frozen. But he was tired. He knew he dared not stop now. Quickly he got to work on the bear. After removing the skin, he cut the carcass into pieces small enough to carry back to the cave. He knew it would be too late to move it tonight. The sun was already beginning to set. He heard a pack of wolves howling nearby. They had caught the smell of blood and that just made them more furocious. Gorg thought of Smoke. How he wished he were here. Then he wondered if Smoke needed any more water or food. He dragged the bear into the shallow den and tried to pull the log up to the entrance to block any hungry animal that might be brave enough to come inside and rob him of his prize. The bear skin alone is enough to pay for Leal. Maybe he could use the skin of the bear to pay for Leal and keep the skin of the snow leopard for her to wear. But he knew Uru. Uru was not a man to be trusted. He had promised to hold Leal for him, but then reneged on his promise. Uru was not an honorable man, and that's why he must make his way to their cave as soon as the snow melted in the mountain pass and the flowers began to bloom. He closed his eyes picturing Leal wearing the leopard skin. They were back in his cave. The shadows from the glow of the fire danced on her face and back and slender legs. Gorg reached out his hand and touched her cheek. Leal turned her head and kissed his hand. Gorg felt his heart grow warm. They had just finished eating the last meal of the day and it was time to go to bed. He smiled to himself. What a beautiful world it will be when I make her my own, he thought. We will have many sons. He dug into his pouch and withdrew some more dried venison. He wished he could build a fire. It would be a long night. He closed his eyes and went to sleep and dreamed of Smoke. And Leal. And many sons. The wolves howled all through the night. They got closer and every time one of them would try to come past the log, Gorg would shout and throw rocks at them and scare them off. But something strange happened during one of those times. Gorg didn't know whether he dreamed it, or whether it really happened. But no, it had to be a dream. But he could have sworn that at one moment he opened his eyes and saw the great white wolf standing directly in front of him. He leapt to his feet and grabbed his spear, but just as quickly the white wolf disappeared without a sound. Gorg shuddered. The rest of the night he could not sleep. He sat there with his spear and kept the wolf pack at bay. As daybreak began, the noise from the wolves tapered off. When everything was quiet Gorg slowly emerged from the den. He looked around. The wolves had made short work of the scraps from the bear that he had left outside. He went back into the cave and put the new skin on the top of the snow and piled it as high as he could with the meat. He got as much as he felt he could carry, tying it up inside the skin and started for home. He knew that anything left in the den would not last for very long. And besides, that cave would not be a safe place to stay in any longer what with the smell of blood so strong. Even his trek home would be fraught with peril as he trudged through the snow. He would have to keep a sharp lookout now that Smoke was not there to help him. As Gorg reach the clearing around his cave, he didn't know what to expect. Even from that distance, he could see that the skins were still hanging although the bottoms had been ripped loose by the storm. Then to his shock, he saw the great white wolf come out of the cave and disappear. "Get outta here, you creature!" Gorg shouted. "If you've killed my Smoke, I'll hunt you down if it's the last thing I do!" Gorg dropped his haul and ran to the opening of the cave. As he threw open the skins, he couldn't believe what lay before his eyes. "Smoke!" he cried. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE YEARNING HEART" ...Continued Release 34 Smoke jumped when he heard Gorg shout his name. He was trying to stand on wobbly legs while eating. When he saw Gorg coming closer to him, he hurriedly tried to finish eating before he reached him. "What are you eating, boy?" Gorg asked, examining the food. It was almost unrecognizable, but before Smoke ate the last of it, Gorg saw that it was regurgitated food. "So, that's it!" Gorg said aloud. "That white wolf has been taking care of you while I was out trying to get myself killed. I guess this is one nobody will believe." Gorg sat down on the ground beside Smoke and examined his wounds. It surprised Gorg at how well they were healing. They looked clean. The white wolf must have kept them clean himself. Smoke finished eating and lay back down on his bed. "I've got some good news, Smoke," Gorg continued talking out loud, "I didn't get a deer, but I got a bear! A big bear! A big, black bear! So, you stay here and get your rest and I'll go get the meat before the animals find it." And with that Gorg threw open the flaps of the cave and headed out to retrieve the food. As he walked out toward the spot where he had dropped the bear, he saw the white wolf, almost invisible against the backdrop of the freshly fallen snow. "Don't worry," Gorg said to the wolf, "I won't hurt you. Not after what you've been doing for my Smoke." Gorg glanced away for just a moment, and when he looked back, the white wolf was gone. Gorg scratched his head. "I've never seen anything that could disappear so easily," he said. As he returned with the bear, Smoke tried to stand up again. "Don't get up, boy," Gorg said. "Just lie there and get well. I'm going out to get some more wood and we'll build a big fire and eat bear meat tonight." Smoke just lay on his bed with his head between his paws, watching Gorg's every move, moving only his eyes. Gorg walked over to him and patted him on his head. Smoke looked up at him with the most loving and trusting eyes Gorg had ever seen. As he went out to forage for more wood, he said, "I'll be right back, boy." Smoke wagged his tail. When Gorg returned with the firewood, he said to Smoke, "I saw that big white wolf again. I wonder what he wants. It's for sure he's not trying to hurt us. After I finish cooking, I'll throw him some meat. See if he will eat it from me. It's awfully cold out there, but I guess he's used to it. How do you feel, boy?" Gorg continued. "Hungry? We'll have something pretty soon, now." Gorg fed Smoke first, breaking off small pieces of meat and hand feeding him. Smoke wolfed down the freshly cooked meat. Gorg was surprised when he realized that this was the first time Smoke had taken food straight from his hand. After Smoke had eaten as much as he could comfortably digest, Gorg stopped feeding him, saying, "Hold on, boy, you've had enough for now. We'll get more later." After Gorg finished eating he took two big pieces outside to the last place he had seen the white wolf at the edge of the clearing and lay them down on the snow. Then he walked over to the volcanic spring, which was steaming, quickly stripped and jumped in. When he had finished bathing, he got out of the spring and grabbing his clothes, literally ran back to the cave and comfort of the fire. In spite of his pain and wounds, Smoke smiled and wagged his tail. Gorg laughed out loud. "You've always enjoyed seeing me freeze like this!" Nothing made Gorg feel so refreshed as a hot bath followed by the freezing dash to the fire. He examined his own scars from the snow-leopard and saw that they were healing nicely. He went to the entrance of the cave and looked to see whether the meat he had taken out to the white wolf was still there. It was not. Gorg smiled. He spent the rest of the day cleaning the bear skin and stretching it out. He had erected two poles where he could string the skin and let the sun dry it. He smiled to himself as he finished up. Uru wouldn't believe his eyes when he saw this bear skin. First, he thought, I'll see if he'll sell Leal just for the bear skin. If not, then I'll have to throw in the snow-leopard skin. Gorg thought of Leal in the snow-leopard skin. "No," he said out loud, "I'll not let Uru know about the snow-leopard skin. That will be my first-night present to Leal. No one else shall have it, least of all Uru." Gorg took the snow-leopard skin and placed it high on a ledge in the very back of the cave with the other skins that he was saving to purchase Leal with. Then, thinking better of that, he grabbed the snow-leopard skin and carefully hid it behind a boulder all by itself. Later he threw some more wood on the fire and fed Smoke again before getting into his own bed, grateful to be back in his warm home with a fire and now Smoke. He patted Smoke on the head, and settled down and went to sleep. It felt good having Smoke with him as he slept. That night he dreamed of Leal. And in his dream she was wearing the skin of the snow-leopard. But there was something wrong with this dream. Gorg moaned and turned in his sleep. In this dream Leal was kneeling and weeping and holding something -- he couldn't tell what -- in her lap, and there was blood in her hair and on her face and on her hands and all over her brand new snow-leopard dress. Gorg woke up in a sweat. He was unable to go back to sleep the rest of the night. It was more than a week before Smoke was able to venture outside the cave, but when he did, he frolicked in the snow and played with Gorg as never before. These carefree moments spent with Smoke would prove to be the happiest days of Gorg's life. Smoke was a dream come true. After another week Smoke was able to accompany him on his hunting trips. The first time they went out together Smoke proved to be better at hunting now than before his injuries. On that trip alone Smoke flushed out hares, winter fowl and a huge reindeer buck. Gorg fashioned a litter of sorts using two poles and an extra skin he brought along with him. First he skinned the reindeer and cut the meat up before skinning the hares. Since it was getting dark, he took the birds back to the cave to be dressed. All the way back to the cave Smoke trotted alongside Gorg with his tail held high. Gorg whistled as they happily walked back. Two or three times he stopped to rest and he and Smoke would share some of the dried venison Gorg had brought along. He learned a long time ago never to venture far from home without victuals. Gorg wondered whether Smoke had noticed the white wolf that had been with them since they started out. He didn't have to wonder long, for just as he looked at Smoke, he saw him staring directly at the white wolf who was barely visible against the crusty snow. Smoke did not move until the white wolf suddenly disappeared into the forest. Gorg did not say a word, just picked up the load and continued on. It was dark when they got back to the cave and the fire had long since gone out. Gorg got another one started and stored the meat in a deep hole he had dug just outside the entrance to the cave. He had it protected by huge rocks that he rolled over the opening. The weather was more than cold enough to keep the meat for months. He brought some hot water up to the cave and cleaned the fowl before putting them in the storage hole. Smoke's appetite had returned stronger than ever. He couldn't wait for Gorg to get the evening meal ready. Gorg had to laugh as he took some of the deer and placed it over the fire. He made note to put on enough for the white wolf as well. Gorg was not fool enough to think that Smoke had done all the work by himself. And Smoke seemed to be pleased when he saw Gorg put some food out for him. This was the first time the white wolf ate while Gorg watched. Always before he would grab the morsels and run, disappearing into the forest. Later, Gorg would see some of the bones and knew where he had eaten it. He never once tried to pursue him, though. That night they all went to bed with full bellies. Gorg would be busy tomorrow cleaning the deer hide and stringing it up to dry out. Gorg put another log on the fire and started to go to sleep when he heard the white wolf howl. He sounded so lonely. Smoke sat up when he heard the calling. It was a full moon that night. They heard the lonesome howl of the white wolf again, and for the first time ever, Smoke answered. What a beautiful sound, Gorg thought. He sat up with Smoke and said, "You're lonesome for your own kind, aren't you, boy?" Smoke just looked at Gorg. The white wolf called again. This time Smoke got out of bed and went to the entrance. He pushed the skins aside and looked in the direction of the white wolf. He called again and without hesitation Smoke answered. Gorg's heart fell. Oh no, he thought. I'm going to lose him to the wild. He wants to go back to the wild. But just as he said that Smoke turned around and came back into the cave and lay down on his bed. Gorg hugged him and gave him another piece of meat to eat. "That's a good boy," he said. Gorg went to his own bed and lay down, but he couldn't sleep. Something was gnawing at his subconscious, something ominous in the pit of his stomach. But try as he might, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something had given him a dreadful feeling of apprehension. What was it? He looked at Smoke. Smoke sensed it, too. Gorg listened to the white wolf for a while and now other wolves were joining in. Gorg started drifting off to sleep and suddenly he gasped and sat straight up. "That's it!" he said out loud. Smoke jumped up and ran to the entrance, and stood staring at the curtain skins and growling without moving. "That's it!" Gorg repeated, and grabbed his spears and placed them in strategic locations inside the cave. It was at that moment he realized that when he and Smoke had been out hunting that the white wolf had been trying to tell them something. There were signs out there. In spite of the snow there were signs that had never before been seen in these parts. To the untrained eye no one would even have noticed; they looked innocuous enough, but Gorg knew. At the time he had been so preoccupied with Smoke. They were both caught up in the excitement of the hunt, they failed to read the warnings, and now they would pay. Gorg now knew that those were the unmistakable signs of the Gorloks! To be continued... WE PRESENT OUR SILVER LINING PERSON AWARD TO CINDY HOFFMAN OF Byng. OKLAHOMA. The accolades are best written by her daughter….. read below. "My mom, Cindy Hoffman, deserves your award. She is a single mom of 2 grown kids and has 2 grandchildren. She has overcome skin cancer, losing her parents and grandmother, becoming a grandmother and almost losing her grandson, a divorce, losing her job of 17 years and having to change careers all within 3 years. She is a strong believer that everything happens for a reason and the bad things in our lives make us stronger. When my son was 5 days old he was admitted to Children's Hospital in Oklahoma City. My mom took off work and stayed with us for the entire 3 weeks he was in the hospital. Each time he has had open heart surgery (4 surgeries in 4 years) she has stayed with us. I couldn't have gone through it all without her. When I left my son's father she took us in when we had no place else to go. We had absolutely nothing and had to sell a lot of our personal belongings just to be able to pay bills and buy groceries. She stood by me when I went back to school. She was a great support person and life saver through my 2nd pregnancy and went to the high risk appointments with me. She doesn't judge me for the mistakes I have made in my life. If it weren't for her my kids and I would have nothing. I owe her so much for the kindness and generosity she has put forth for us. Because of her we have made it out of what seemed to be the very bottom and jumped every hurdle put in our way. We may not have much but she has worked tremendously hard to make sure we have everything we need, including love and support. Sincerely, Shelly Morrison EDITORS COMMENTS: What a wonderful legacy Cindy Hoffman has. For every parent out there, if your child were to write something half as good as this about you, your life would have been a total success. Congratulations Cindy Hoffman, we feel honored to have your name mentioned on our web site. We know our readers worldwide will hear your story and feel inspired to perhaps be and do a little better. And when anyone hears the name Cindy Hoffman, they should be inspired and smile. She has made her daughter smile and all of us here at the Silver Lining News. Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE GORLOKS!" Release 35 As quickly as he could, Gorg pulled on his boots and clothes. He pulled on an extra coat that his mother had given him when he was turned out by his father. He put two knives on his belt and picked up a spear. Carefully he crept to the skin curtains and slowly pulled them back just enough to look outside. Smoke watched and continued in a low, guttural growl. Gorg whispered for him to be quiet. Instantly Smoke stopped growling, and walked over to Gorg and peered around the curtains. The first thing they saw was the white wolf. He was standing just outside the curtains with the hair on his back standing straight up, not making a sound. Gorg and Smoke instinctually looked in the direction the white wolf was looking. They saw nothing. "What is it, boy?" Gorg whispered to the white wolf. The white wolf looked around for just a second, wagged his tail, and quickly looked back in the same direction. Gorg thought he saw something move in the shadows of the forest. Smoke and the white wolf saw it too. The white wolf froze. Barely discernible, Smoke growled under his breath. "Yeah," Gorg said. "I saw it, too." Quickly Gorg turned around and put the fire out. He stuffed his back pack with as many provisions as it would hold and grabbed his spears, and without making a sound he and Smoke slipped out of the cave and disappeared up the side of the mountain behind the cave. Keeping a healthy distance, the white wolf followed. Remaining as quiet as possible the three of them slipped up over the hill and once out of earshot, began running. They spent the rest of the night running, stopping only to rest until they caught their breaths. They did not even have time to eat. All the while the white wolf kept a safe distance, but never once lost sight of Gorg and Smoke. Just before the crack of dawn, exhausted, Gorg stopped and sat down. He found a high spot and looked to see whether they were being followed. When he was satisfied that they weren't, he sat down, fed Smoke and then took some food over to the white wolf. After the wolves had finished eating, he ate. When the sun rose over the horizon that morning, it was blood red. At first Gorg couldn't believe his eyes and ears. The shouting coming from the direction of his cave was so loud, he could have sworn the Gorloks were about to descend on them. The three companions froze and watched in the direction of the cave. Gorg clenched his spear. In the distance they could see smoke billowing up from what had once been their home. "They found our larder," he said to Smoke. They're eating our food." Smoke nudged Gorg's hand. Gorg had had time to think while they were running. The Gorloks would have sent one or two of their most cunning scouts ahead of the main party, and they never traveled in smaller groups than six or seven. They had probably been watching and studying them for days, always keeping just out of sight. He had heard many stories of the Gorloks from his father and the elders of their tribe. They often told of the savagery and horror and viciousness of the Gorloks. Still, he had never had a personal encounter with them. The Gorloks were a hostile, warlike tribe out of the north, who's reputation was widely feared throughout the land of Jod. They combined their hunting parties with murdering, pillaging and burning any they found who were foolish enough not to belong to a larger community. Gorg's hope was that they had surely noticed that there were no women around, and therefore might not pursue them with any kind of deliberate perseverance. His own father and mother belonged to a larger group called the Koorms. They were a peaceful community, but could defend themselves if given enough warning. The Gorloks, for the most part, left the Koorms alone. Gorg thanked his two companions, to which he gratefully acknowledged he owed his very existence, for without them, the Gorloks would have cut him down without a second thought. Gorg patted Smoke's head and gave him a piece of jerky. He threw some to the white wolf who caught it in midair and swallowed it without chewing. "Good boys," Gorg said. The rest of the day was spent keeping a close watch to see whether the Gorloks were giving chase. As the day drew to a close Gorg quietly made a small den under the roots of a tree that was precariously clinging to the side of a hill. "This will have to do," Gorg said to Smoke. "And we'll have to eat lightly until the Gorloks move on." Before going to sleep Gorg noticed a beautiful orange glow coming from the direction of their home. Gorg was glad he had remembered to take the coat his mother had made for him. He pulled the coat up over his chin and after long last, drifted off to sleep. The white wolf, still not completely trusting, kept his distance. Smoke stayed just outside the den keeping watch. He did not sleep at all that night. Smoke woke Gorg up with an angelkiss. Gorg awoke with a start. "What's happened?" he asked Smoke. Smoke pointed in the direction of their home. There was no more smoke in the sky, so, he thought it might be okay to see if they could get a closer look. As the three companions stealthily approached the clearing to the place they had once called home, Gorg involuntarily gasped when he saw what was left. Not only had the Gorloks taken all the food from the larder, but they had taken all the skins he had been saving to pay for Leal. They even took the skin curtains to the entrance to the cave. The food they didn't eat, they threw into the hot springs. Gorg looked inside to see what was left. Apparently the Gorloks had slept in the cave and defiled it in ways even his father and the elders of the Koorms could not have prepared him for. They had taken his new bear skin that was being tanned, literally ripping it from its frame. They had taken all the wood that he had gathered, almost enough to last for a month, and built a bonfire with it. So this is what made the beautiful glow last night. Gorg's heart sank as his thoughts turned to Leal. Now he would have to start all over, and knowing Uru, he would probably try to sell her to someone else. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and ran into the cave. They couldn't have found it! I hid it too well, he thought. He dashed to the back of the cave with Smoke running right alongside him. He found the boulder behind which he had hidden the snow-leopard hide. It looked as if it had not been moved. He prayed to the gods of the Koorms. Slowly he pulled the boulder away and placed his hand behind it. He almost collapsed with joy when his hand felt the soft fur of the snow-leopard. They hadn't found it! Gorg was overjoyed, but now that meant that if he wanted to give it to Leal, he would have to get more skins to barter with, and there were only about four more weeks until the flowers begin to bloom. The Gorloks had taken everything. Gorg and his companions didn't even have anything to eat that night. Gorg knew they would have to start out early tomorrow morning on an extended hunting trip. They would have to catch their food as they went along. He had to get something to barter for Leal. His second most prized possession, the bear skin, was gone. Gorg woke up before dawn, grabbed his spear and whistled for Smoke to come. Smoke responded instantly and the two of them started out. Even before the sun came up they saw three hares racing toward them. Smoke and Gorg could not believe this sudden stroke of good luck, and then they saw the white wolf in hot pursuit. Instinctively Gorg speared the lead hare. Smoke had a little more difficulty catching his and the white wolf got the third one. The white wolf took his hare down the trail ahead of Smoke and Gorg where he dropped it alongside the path where they would have to pass it. As Gorg picked it up, he smiled and said, "You two flush them out, I'll skin them, clean them and cook them." "This is going to be a long hunting trip," Gorg said. "We've got to get enough to bargain with Uru." Smoke looked at Gorg when he said that. He had not yet met Uru, but could tell by the inflection in Gorg's voice when he referred to him that he was not a good man, and since Gorg didn't like him, neither did he. Gorg knew that the chances of getting another bear skin were next to impossible. He wouldn't even have had that one if he hadn't been forced to kill it. It was an accident. A fortunate accident. Fortunately, now, for the Gorloks. As they traveled along Smoke moved up with the white wolf and without realizing it, Gorg found himself following them. They traveled in a westward direction, a direction Gorg had never been before. At nightfall they had to make camp and Gorg was able to fashion a makeshift shelter on the side of the mountain. He built a fire and cooked some more of the hare that they had gotten their first day out. It was easy to sleep that night, and when they awoke, they continued up the side of the mountains. As they rounded a sharp point Gorg opened his mouth in wonder. The splendor that lay before them was unlike any he had ever seen before. They stood at the entrance to a narrow pass that split the mountain range down the middle like a snake. Beyond that lay the azure seas and beyond that, barely discernible, lay the crystal blue horizon! Gorg had never seen anything so spectacular. He had heard of the sea from the elders of the Koorm, but was told never to go there, as it is part of the land of the Gorloks. Gorg, however, was an expert at tracking, and could tell that this pass had not been used by anything other than wild animals in a long time, if ever. He carefully searched around and could not find even a trace of the Gorloks. He had vowed never to be surprised by them again. The three companions continued moving closer to the sea. Gorg remembered that they were now more than three days away from home and they still had not gotten any food, let alone skins, aside from the initial three hares. To be continued... CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE GORLOKS!" ...Continued Release 36 This was the first time Gorg had ever seen walrus, and at first he was afraid. Not so Smoke and the white wolf. By the end of the second day on the beach they had more food than they could eat and all the skins that Gorg could comfortably carry back to his valley. They found the meat of the walrus to be so greasy as to be unappetizing to their native tastes. But they managed, and the fat filled all three of them. He saw why the Gorloks had not used the pass to the interior. It was impossible to see from this side, and if he hadn't followed the wolves, he would not have been able to find his way back. The way the path entered the beach area was around and through a cluster of rocks completely concealing it from the beach. One would literally have to stumble upon it to see that there was an obscure opening just large enough for a man to slip through sideways and then follow the path that wound through the cluster until it opened up to the secret pass. Gorg had just pulled the last of the skins through and was going back for the rest of the walrus meat when he stopped short. A group of Gorlok women was standing around the carcass of the walrus that he had left. They were looking around to see who had been trespassing on their property and stealing their food. Gorg started to run back to the entrance of the path, but the women spotted him before he could get more than a few steps and started after him. They were screaming and throwing rocks and spears. Just before Gorg reached the rock cluster Smoke and the white wolf appeared. Seeing the wolves the women started screaming in terror, "WOLFMAN! WOLFMAN!" and turned around and started running back. They didn't stop until they reached the safety of their village. Gorg had to laugh out loud, and before the wolves got too close, he whistled for them to come back. Smoke stopped chasing them immediately, but the white wolf continued on for a little while before stopping and turning around and trotting back. Gorg thought better of trying to take the walrus and together the three of them disappeared behind the rocks into the secret pass. The journey back home seemed a lot longer, and Gorg found himself getting tired from the load, but now that they knew how to get to the beach, there would be future excursions. He never found out whether the Gorloks gave chase or not. He knew that if they hadn't already found the secret pass, they never would unless he was careless, and being careless was something he never intended to be again. He had no way of knowing that he would forevermore be mythically referred to by the Gorloks as The Wolfman, and his ability to disappear without a trace only added to his mystique. And when the hunters returned home and discovered to their horror that it was this mysterious wolfman's home they had ransacked, they thought that his raid on their homeland was in retaliation. They vowed never to bother him again. Besides, they thought, he had no women there, so it wouldn't be worth their while taking the chance. But now the secret was out, and Gorg had seen a lure while there that all the power the gods possessed could not prevent him from returning to the land of the Gorloks. Gorg had spotted a pure white bear and all he could think of was how beautiful it would look on his Leal. When they camped out that night, Gorg slept well. And dreamed of Leal and how pretty she looked wearing a coat made from the skin of the white bear he had yet to catch. Smoke watched as Gorg slept. He looked at the white wolf who was soundly sleeping just a few yards away. He knew Gorg. He knew his thoughts. He shook and lay his head down between his paws and keeping one eye on Gorg and the other eye on the white wolf, he slowly went to sleep. As they traveled back to their home, fate played games with them. They saw all the reindeer they could eat, but having killed one, plus the walrus meat, Gorg had all he could carry. He had made a stilt and piled it as high as he could. He thought about throwing the greasy walrus meat away, but later thought better of it, it would come in handy for medicinal purposes, plus it was good to use when cooking other things. Smoke and the white wolf caught enough hares to keep them in food for a few days. By the time they got back to the cave, all three of them were exhausted. Gorg carefully prepared the skins and stored the meat in the hole he had prepared as a refrigerator. Then he built a fire on the outside of the cave and cooked a huge meal for all three of them. After they finished eating, he built another fire on the inside of the cave and ran down to the hot springs and stripped and jumped into the inviting water. Smoke came over and watched him and sniffed his clothes. "Yeah," Gorg said, "I know they stink, but I'm tired now. I'll wash them tomorrow!" He laughed. When he had finished bathing, he climbed out of the water and ran as fast as he could through the snow back to the fire inside the cave. Smoke ran alongside yelping and nipping playfully at Gorg's ankles as he ran. Gorg laughed out loud as he ran. Seeing all this frivolity, the white wolf wagged his tail and smiled, wishing, perhaps, that he could join in. Gorg dried off by the fire and put on clean clothes. As they settled in for the night, Smoke in his bed and Gorg in his, the white wolf poked his head inside just out of curiosity. Gorg smiled and went to sleep. The next month went by fast. Gorg discovered that the walrus skins were far superior to anything he had ever seen before. He vowed to go back for more before the flowers bloom, but never quite got around to it. The white wolf, becoming more familiar, dropped his guard and reached the point to where he would almost come close enough to take the food out of Gorg's hand. These were happy times. The hunting was good and the snow was beginning to melt. Tiny green buds were poking their little heads up through the ice and the birds were bursting into song. Gorg had more than enough skins to purchase Leal, but kept getting more just in case Uru raised the price. Uru knew how much Gorg wanted Leal, and that he could name his price. Smoke and the white wolf spent more and more time together, disappearing into the woods sometimes for hours at a time. Where they went, Gorg never knew. He tried to follow them one day, but they easily lost him. Suddenly it hit him like a thunderbolt! He slapped his forehead. He laughed out loud and said to the wolves, "You must think I'm a fool!" The wolves looked at Gorg in disbelief. It was in the early evening and Gorg had put supper on the fire. They were having fish that night. Gorg had caught enough fish that day to feed all three of them. Fishing was surprisingly good this time of year with the ice breaking up. Gorg had been careful. This would be one of the last times -- if not the last time -- he would venture so far out on the ice. He could hear the ice creaking under his weight. The wolves, being smarter than he, refused to follow him out on the lake once they heard the ice creak. Gorg didn't stay too long. The fish, it seemed, were ravenous. They were biting at the first sign of anything to eat. And they loved walrus meat! So, as Gorg set about preparing the evening meal and watching the wolves playing, it dawned on him. He noticed that the white wolf seemed to be gaining weight while Smoke was retaining his normal weight. That's when Gorg looked closer at the white wolf. He slapped his knee and said to Smoke, "Why you old varmint! That's a SHE-wolf you got there! And all this time I never even noticed! You've done gone and given her reason to... Well I'll be. Well, I'll just be." Gorg said, and reached up and wiped a tear of joy out of his eye. "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE BABIES!" Both wolves stopped their frolicking around the fire and watched as Gorg made his exclamation. Both were smiling and wagging their tails as if they had pulled a delicious joke on him. Gorg ran over to the refrigerator storage cave and withdrew the loin of a deer. "This night calls for something special! This night calls for more than just fish," he said. "Tonight we really feast! Tonight we eat as if there is no tomorrow!" The wolves licked their chops in anticipation. Gorg was happier, now, than at any time he had ever been in his life. As they ate the evening meal, Gorg made sure that the white wolf got as much to eat as she could hold. He talked to them that entire evening. "What are you called?" he said directly to the white wolf. Then to Smoke, "What do you call her?" Both wolves stopped eating and sat down and looked directly into Gorg's eyes. Gorg blinked, his eyes shifting back and forth from Smoke to the white wolf. Neither wolf flinched. Then, after a long moment, he smiled, and as if pulling it out of the mystic, uttered just one word. "Noor." To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "THE GORLOKS!" ...Continued Release 37 The next morning as Gorg walked outside the cave the white wolf was nowhere to be seen. She had made it a habit to be eagerly waiting when he and Smoke first emerged in the mornings, but this time she was gone. Gorg whistled and called her, but she didn't come. "I wonder if anything is wrong," Gorg muttered out loud. He searched around the immediate area for her for a while, but having no luck, he got on with the day's work. The rest of the day he busied himself getting the skins ready for his trip to Uru's to purchase Leal. He took the snow leopard skin down, examined, it and tucked it back into its hiding place, deciding not to let Uru know about it. He imagined how it would look on Leal on their wedding night. The next few weeks were spent preparing the journey. He wanted to make sure he had special presents for Uru and Oola. He had a fresh bear skin that he thought Uru would like. He had invented an ingenious trap for catching wild animals. Actually the trap was originally devised as a way to escape, should something be chasing him. He dug a deep pit and placed thin limbs and leaves over it and when the bear or leopard or whatever might be chasing him, he could run around to the other side of the pit and the animal chasing him would run over it thinking it was solid ground and fall into the pit. It was only after he caught his first live bear that he realized how much easier it was than trying to kill him with just his spear. This particular bear had been trying to raid his storage cave, so one night Gorg placed raw fish in the pit and waited. To his delight the next morning Gorg found the culprit. That bear skin would be good enough for Uru, but he didn't know what to give Oola. First he wanted to give her one of the deer hides to make a coat out of, but later decided on giving her a new pair of boots made from the hide of a boar he had killed in the same pit. He had thought about giving her a pair of boots he made from one of the walrus skins, but he didn't really care for Oola all that much, and decided that the boar skin would be good enough for her, besides, it was Uru whom he would be dealing with. He would save the walrus skin boots for Leal. He fashioned a coat for Leal out of the walrus skins, even making a hood for her to wear on their trip back. She would like this, he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how she would look in it. During all this time he only caught glimpses of Smoke as he showed up for food and then disappeared. There were times Gorg heard strange noises while he was sleeping only to wake up and discover Smoke giving him an angelkiss. Then he walked around the inside of the cave a couple of times and just as quietly disappeared into the stillness of the night. Gorg preferred to think of it as Smoke trying to let him know that he was still very much a part of his life. Once Gorg futilely tried to follow him, but Smoke was too elusive, effortlessly losing him as if he were a ghost. And then one bright, unusually brisk morning as Gorg was packing up his bundles, Smoke came running up to him and grabbed his sleeve and started pulling on it. Gorg instantly knew that that was the signal for him to follow. This time Smoke made sure he would not lose Gorg. The wolves had built and hidden their den in a place Gorg would never have dreamed of looking. He had to go through a thick undergrowth and the den itself was behind a rotting tree that had long ago fallen after having been struck by lightening. It was the perfect place. The wolves could protect themselves from intruders while the fallen tree inadvertently fortified their backs. Noor was in labor when Gorg and Smoke arrived. She growled a warning when Gorg started to kneel down to offer assistance, but Smoke stepped between them, indicating to Gorg that it would be okay. She refused a piece of dried venison Gorg offered her. Gorg held it in his hand in front of her nose until she took it. As soon as she swallowed the food, she went into contractions. The first pup to arrive was a male the color of Noor. Smoke excitedly examined the new life. The second one was also a male, this one was the color of Noor as well. The third to come was female. It, too, was as snow white as Noor herself. Gorg was beginning to become disappointed, he wanted at least one pup that looked like Smoke. Noor gathered her pups together and cleaned them and tenderly showed each one to its nipple. The next three were all males and all white. This is it, Gorg thought, and not a single one of them black. But then after a few minutes Noor continued in labor and produced a black female the color of Smoke. Gorg smiled. Noor went into contractions again. This one was harder than the others. She was having trouble. She strained and struggled, but nothing happened. Noor stood up and turned around, still nothing. At last Gorg saw the black head of another pup. Noor pushed again and it popped out. As soon as Noor cleaned it, Gorg picked it up. This one was a black male exactly the color of Smoke! Gorg leaped with joy. Smoke was strutting around with his head held high and smiling as only a proud father could. Noor, however, was tired, and after nudging her pups to their nursing teats, she seemed too exhausted to do anything but sleep. Gorg gave her some more dried meat, then picked up the little black male again. "You shall be called Shadow," he said, and Smoke jumped up and came over to investigate, and together he and Gorg carefully examined every inch of the newborn making sure it had no defects. It was a perfect specimen. Smoke looked at Gorg and they both smiled. "We've got to figure out a way to get them back to the cave," Gorg said to Smoke. "I'll go back and get something to carry them in." Smoke went with him. While they were at the cave Gorg grabbed some meat that was left over from the night before. When they got back to the den, Noor wouldn't let Gorg near the pups. Smoke tried to intervene, but Noor growled at him too. Gorg sat on the edge of the log and waited, every now and then handing Noor a piece of meat. "She looks sick," Gorg said aloud. Then added as an afterthought, "I'd be sick, too, if I had just given birth to eight pups." Smoke looked at Gorg and smiled. Suddenly Noor lurched forward and moaned. Frantic, Gorg jumped up and ran to her. She threw her head back and made a sound unlike any Gorg had ever heard before. "Oh no!" Gorg said, "don't die, girl. Please don't die." Noor looked at Gorg and opened her mouth again, but no sound came out. She just writhed and squirmed. Smoke started kissing her and trying in vain to help her. She's dying, Gorg thought. And just at that moment, he realized that she wasn't dying at all; she was still in labor. "She's not through, yet!" he said aloud. She was struggling, though, struggling as never before with this one. Try as she might, she couldn't get the pup to come out. Gorg had no choice, but to try and help. He kneeled down at her side. He didn't know what to do. Noor made that same strange sound again. Gorg just stood up again and just stood there helplessly looking on. Noor kept pushing. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth. Then she stopped moving and closed her eyes. Gorg looked more closely at her. She was still breathing. The contractions kept coming. Gorg didn't know what to do. Noor stood up and turned around again. She walked out of the den and lay down on the grass, still trying. She began to foam at the mouth. Gorg rubbed her head and wiped her mouth. Then, as if nothing was wrong, the pup's head popped out. Noor was pushing with every ounce of her being, but the pup wouldn't budge further. Gorg tenderly tugged on the pup's head. Slowly, ever so slowly, the front paws emerged. Gorg pulled, gently rocking back and forth. Noor was exhausted. Smoke looked on anxiously. Suddenly Noor threw her head back and made an earsplitting howl. It was so loud it hurt Gorg's and Smoke's ears. And with one final, enormous push, the pup popped out with a rush of fluid. Noor couldn't move. But she instinctively knew that she must clean the pup or it wouldn't be able to breathe. Summoning the very last of her energy, she started cleaning the pup. But the pup wasn't breathing. "This one's dead, girl," Gorg said, and started to pick it up. Noor growled. Gorg backed off. "It's puny, too." The next few minutes Noor devoted all her attention to reviving the pup. To no avail. But she would not give up. The other pups had found her and were beginning to nurse. She stood up and let them drop to the ground. She kept licking and massaging the limp pup and nudging it with her nose, but it would not respond. She showed it to its nipple. "Not only is it puny and weak," Gorg said, "it's not even the same color as the other ones. Instead of being all white or all black, its got gold eyebrows and a gold throat. Its chest is gold with a white, windblown flame. And where it ain't black, it's gold, but mostly it's black with gold paws and legs and a gold belly. It's also got a black tail and a gold bottom. Gold cheeks, too, but a black nose. Never seen anything like it. Looks more like a freak than anything else. Guess it's better it was stillborn." Gorg watched Noor desperately trying to revive her baby. He thought he heard the faint sound of a squeak coming from the pup. Smoke watched and cocked his head as he studied the unfolding drama. The pup made no more sounds and Gorg reached down to remove the pup from the rest of the pack. This time Noor was too tired to object. Gorg took the pup to a dry spot behind the fallen tree and with his knife dug a hole and buried it. No sooner had he got back to the den, than Noor, although extremely fatigued, jumped up and ran over to the spot where her pup was buried and dug it up. She brought it back to the den and tried in vain to get it to nurse. This time the pup squeaked again. Gorg would have sworn the pup was dead, but even though it squeaked, Noor could not get it to nurse. The pup went limp again, and didn't make another noise. Gorg picked it up again. "I'm sorry, old girl," he said, "but this time he's really gone." And with that he took the pup back to its burial spot and buried it again. Noor watched as he put her pup into the ground and covered it with dirt. She moaned. As soon as Gorg walked away, she returned to the spot where her baby was buried and dug him up again and brought him back to the den and cleaned him and tried again to get him to nurse. The pup remained motionless. Noor refused to give up. Gorg reached for the pup again, but Noor snapped at him. He quickly withdrew his hand. More than an hour went by and Noor would not let Gorg or Smoke come near herself or the pups. She just kept massaging the pup and showing him her teat. Gorg stood up and started to return to the cave when he heard the puny pup begin hollering. This time it was louder than before. He wouldn't stop. He just kept hollering over and over and over. Smoke leapt up and ran to the whining pup. With her nose, Noor directed him to her choicest, fullest teat, and as her baby nursed, she defiantly looked up at Gorg and Smoke and triumphantly smiled, yawned and lay her head down and fell into a deep sleep while her family -- but especially her smallest -- fed in the comfort and security of the safest place on earth. Gorg and Smoke stood over the mother with her newborns admiring the scene. He put his hands on his hips. "Well I'll be," he said, shaking his head. "I'll just be!" To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "Seventh Son" Release 38 Noor would not allow the pups to be moved until some two weeks later when their eyes were open, and then only after Gorg tricked her by picking up Shadow and walking away with him. Noor followed Gorg all the way to the cave where he had made a bed for her and her pups. When she saw that Gorg was not going to bring her pup back, she went back to the den and one by one moved the rest of the litter into the cave. Shadow was obviously Gorg's favorite. If he wasn't nursing, Gorg would push the other pups out of the way and put him in the best spot. That didn't seem to bother Noor as long as they all got the nourishment they needed. The puny pup, however, was madly in love with Gorg. Every time he heard Gorg's voice, he would try to seek him out. Gorg found this humorous, and never realized that the first scent the pup ever experienced was his, therefore, he would always identify with Gorg. Even before his eyes were open, whenever Gorg picked him up, he tried to nurse on Gorg's pinky. Gorg named the puny pup Koda. Because of the pups, Gorg had to postpone his trip until they were big enough for Noor to leave them long enough to forage for food, since he wouldn't be there to provide it for them. Gorg wasn't sure whether Smoke was going to come with him or not, but he didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize the pups. He knew that as long as Noor stayed in the cave the wild animals had learned, for the most part, that for one to invade the sanctity of this cave was to forfeit one's life. He had figured on being gone for roughly seven days. Gorg spent the rest of the evening bundling up the skins that he planned to use for bartering. He packed up enough hard tack to last Smoke and himself for about a week. Since it was spring, there would be plenty of fruits and berries along the way. And there's always the occasional kill. He was a good hunter, and if Smoke came along with him, that would be even better. The next morning Gorg strapped on his gear and set out before sunrise. He whistled a couple of times for Smoke, but Smoke refused to come. Gorg bowed his head and started on his journey alone. It would take about three days to reach Uru's place. The first day went without incident. At nightfall Gorg made camp and lit a fire. He was just about to go to sleep when Smoke showed up sniffing the bag of hard tack. "Well, there you are, you rascal! Couldn't stand being away from me, could you?" Gorg laughed. Smoke gave him an angelkiss and Gorg gave Smoke something to eat. The two of them sparred around for a few minutes before settling down for the night. Later that night, Gorg was gently awakened by the wistful sound of a lone wolf howling somewhere in the distance. He knew in an instant it was Noor. Smoke was already standing up. He looked at Gorg as if asking if it would be okay. Gorg didn't say a word; he just nodded. Smoke's answer was long and low. It was the saddest sound Gorg had ever heard. If Smoke had looked over at Gorg at just that moment, he would have caught the glitter of a tear before Gorg self-consciously wiped it away. Gorg moved his blanket over to Smoke's, and they slept fitfully side by side for the rest of the night. They both missed Noor, and with one major exception, the pups had not yet had time to form a bond with anyone other than their mother. That major exception was Koda. Koda missed Gorg with every fiber of his being. Gorg was Koda's universe, and he could sense Gorg's absence. Noor heard, and understood, Koda's plaintive cries. She nudged her baby and tried, in vain, to comfort him. Gorg wondered whether Shadow was being aggressive enough to get enough to eat his fill. What a fine hunter he will make, he said to himself. They were up before dawn and set out after eating a hearty breakfast. Gorg noticed a hive of honey bees on the way and made a mental note of where it was so he could stop on the way back and raid it. They spotted a doe, but she looked as if she was close to giving birth, so Gorg waited until they could get a buck. In the meantime, he and Smoke killed a wild boar and Gorg added what they didn't eat that night to their portable larder. A nice pork roast would, no doubt, bring a smile to Oola's face, not to mention the rest of the family As they got closer to Leal, Gorg could literally feel his heart begin to race. They came to a stream, and he decided to make camp early and wait until the next morning to make the last mile to Uru's. He wanted to be well rested and fresh when he saw Leal. He hadn't given a second thought as to what their reaction would be when they saw Smoke. Gorg found sleep to be elusive that night. He could think of nothing but Leal and what he would do the first time he saw her. He thought about grabbing her and putting his arms around her and spinning her around and kissing her mouth. He thought about how happy he would make her when he got her back home. Yes, back home! His home! That would be her home from now on. He tried to sleep. He tossed and turned. His pulse pounded like thunder in his ears. He felt his whole body flush with tantalizing anticipation. He was hot. He threw the covers off him and just lay there staring at the stars. He wondered if those same stars were shining over Leal. He wondered what Leal was doing right now, right at this very moment. Of course she would have no way of knowing that he was just little more than a heartbeat away. He watched a shooting star streak across the clear sky. He gazed at the Milky Way, and for the first time wondered how far away it was, and if there was a mountain tall enough to reach it. He wondered if Leal would like to visit it someday. He could take her there and together they could walk among the stars. He knew she would like it. She was bound to like it. She would automatically like anything he liked. Ah, he thought, I will make her so happy. She will be the happiest of all women, and she will bear me many sons. Gorg's heart was beating so loud he could literally hear it. Smoke got up and moved a few feet away so he could sleep. At the first sign of light Gorg jumped up and dove into the water. After he finished bathing, he shaved with a sharpened flintstone. He would be his best for Leal. Just the mention of her name made his heart leap with joy. Today is the day! Smoke watched with unamused detached curiosity. He was hungry. When Gorg got dressed he made breakfast for the two of them. When they finished eating Gorg packed up everything and secured it to the litter. As they reached the clearing to Uru's Gorg could barely keep himself from running. As they got closer to the entrance to the cave, however, Gorg noticed something odd. Something was amiss. At first he thought it strange that there was no fire in the cooking pit. They must be sleeping late he thought. Then his heart sank. He saw the unmistakable signs of the Gorloks. The place had been raided and utterly destroyed. He looked inside the blackened cave. Smoke went inside with him. Gorg examined the bodies. Uru had put up quite a resistance. Gorg fell to his knees. He thanked the gods that Leal was not among the dead. He looked around for telltale signs. They must have attacked in the darkness of night. An involuntary sob escaped Gorg's mouth. Somberly he spent the rest of the day digging a grave for Uru. He wrapped his remains in one of the skins that he had brought to barter with. His head was found several yards from the rest of his body. After the burial Gorg built a fire and studied the tracks of the Gorloks and the direction they had gone. Even though it had been more than a week since the Gorloks had left, he could still make out Leal's footprints. There was another woman taken as well. Gorg surmised that that must be Leal's mother, Oola. Gorg made up his mind then and there to set out the next morning to rescue Leal. He built a hiding place not unlike the one in his own cave and hid the skins that he had brought to barter with. He cleaned off a place to spend the night. Gorg was sound asleep when he heard Smoke call from the edge of the forest. Strange, he thought. Why isn't Smoke here? Then he sensed it. Someone was standing over him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt for his knife. He opened his eyes to see a boy of about twelve standing over him. "Do not be afraid, sir," the boy said. Gorg jumped up. "Who are you?" "I am Vor, sir, son of Amook, shaman to the Koorms." "What do you want with me?" "Is that your wolf?" "He's his own wolf," Gorg answered. "I heard your wolf tell you I was here. Will he let me touch him?" "What do you want, son?" "My father sent me to watch for you. I have been watching for seven days, now. We knew you would come." "How does your father know me?" "He is the shaman, sir. I am to take you to him as soon as you arrive." "Why did you wait until now to come?" "I had to make sure it was you, sir," the boy replied. "Are you called Gorg?" "That I am. Well, we'll have to see your father tomorrow. Will you sleep here with us?" "Us, sir? You mean you sleep with the wolf, sir?" "No, the wolf sleeps next to me, not with me," Gorg laughed. "My father said that you were very powerful, Gorg." Gorg laughed again. "But I must take you to him tonight, Gorg. You must come with me without delay." "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Gorg asked. "My father said that if you wanted to see the young woman alive again, you must see him as soon as you arrive. There is no time to waste." Gorg enlisted Vor's help and they hid the all the skins except one of the walrus skins, which he kept out as an offering to Amook. To be continued... Captain Moke's Quest CAPTAIN MOKE'S QUEST TALES OF THE UNCOMPROMISING SHEPWEILER By David Butler Chapter Nine "Seventh Son"... Continued Release 39 The road to Karu, the city of the Koorms, was fraught with peril. Pits filled with spears pointing upward and outward were placed everywhere along the way. Many a Gorlok had been impaled while attempting a surprise raid upon the Koorms. Those rare times someone survived the spears were surprised to find vipers waiting to finish them off. Sentries were posted in trees every quarter of a mile or so, they served twelve hours on and twelve hours off, with every third week resting. Even Gorg, who knew of their existence, and the existence of the pits, and was well practiced in the art of deception, could not detect them, especially in the dark, and would have been lost if Vor had not been there with him. The Koorms were a peaceful, but ferocious, people, and would fight to the death to protect their land and their women and children. The outer settlements, such as where Uru and his family lived, were especially vulnerable, though, having only themselves for protection. More than once Uru's relatives and friends, after noticing Leal's beauty, had urged him to come back into the main village, but Uru was stubborn. Gorg put a leather strap around Smoke's neck and held him close. Smoke, sensing the danger, and having total trust in Gorg, easily complied As they approached Karu, Gorg could smell the smoke from all the home-fires. Karu lay at the base of Blue Mountain, a long extinct volcano. Most of the Koorms lived in huts made from the hide of animals, but some were made of bricks that had been fashioned of mud and straw. The leaders, including Amook, still lived in caves. Amook's cave was on the far edge of town. Vor skirted the edge of town as he led Gorg and Smoke to Amook's cave, he knew that if the townspeople saw the wolf it would frighten them. Gorg thought Amook would be startled when he first saw Smoke, but as the three entered the cave, Amook looked at Smoke with the highest regard, and with his hand, motioned them inside. He was wearing an antler headdress with streamers that reached to his ankles. Amook arose and embraced Gorg. "Welcome home, my son," he said to Gorg. "Thank you father," Gorg said to Amook, returning the embrace. "But father," Vor said, "I thought I was your only son." Amook gently placed his hand on Vor's shoulder, "Gorg was my first pupil, my best pupil. My wish was for him to be my own son, and become the next shaman, but his blood father would not release him to me. Through the gods, Gorg is my son; through blood, you are my son. You and Gorg are brothers of the highest order." Vor looked up at Gorg and beamed, "I have always wished for a brother. I could not have possibly hoped for one so grand as yourself, Gorg." "Nor I you, Vor." Smoke struggled against the restraint and Amook reached down and released him. "It is okay. He will not stray," Gorg said. "I know." Amook said. "This is a most amazing animal, father," Vor said. "I know." Amook said. Amook's wife busied herself getting something for the wayfarers to eat. She placed the food on a blanket and they all sat around and ate. Amook saw to it that Gorg had more than enough to feed Smoke as well. As they ate, Amook filled Gorg in on what he knew. Leal's beauty was legendary. And when Keck, the chief of the Gorloks, heard about it, and was assured that she was a virgin, he sent a band of his best warriors to bring her to him. Only a virgin was fit for a Gorlok chief. The warriors were instructed to take her by whatever means necessary, but not to harm even a hair on her head. If one mark, cut, scratch, bruise or blemish, ever so slight, were to appear anywhere on her body, the person responsible would instantly lose his head. She was to be brought back borne on a litter. She was to be covered with a canopy and kept out of the sun. The chief hated browned, leather-like skin on his virgins. When Leal did arrive in the land of the Gorloks, she was first taken to a private house where she was bathed, dressed in the finest garments, and fed before being presented to the chief. Leal refused to eat. Then in a celebration of triumph that evening in the main courtyard of the city, Leal was brought out amidst much ceremony. Keck was seated in a chair on a platform under a canopy. Torches were lighted and the smell of cooking food permeated the entire square. The first time Keck saw her, he was stunned. Never had he seen anything as delicate. Leal stood before the chief not moving. Her chestnut hair reaching down past her white shoulders. Her eyes, almond shaped, were as deep brown as the forest at twilight. Her crimson lips against the white of her skin made her appear to be an alabaster statue. To tarnish a thing of such delightful excellence would surely put oneself at odds with the gods, thought Keck, and completely out of harmony with nature. Keck could only stare with his mouth open. Those who had seen Leal had not lied about her beauty; it was incomparable. If anything, they had fallen short. He must make her his wife. Keck's first wife, Lome, was sitting in the chair next to him. He didn't look at her, nor did he ask for her opinion. She just sat staring at Leal. She couldn't help feeling jealous. No ordinary woman, not even a queen, could compare with one so beautiful. Keck stood up and walked, and without taking his eyes off her walked to where she was standing. He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger. She tilted her head to one side. Proud, too, he mused. He turned her head to face him. She looked directly into his eyes. He could feel the fire inside her soul. She hated him, and this only enriched his desire for her. Would he add her to his harem? No. She would be too valuable for his harem. Her beauty was the stuff of which legends are made. She would take Lome's place as his number one wife. His son by Leal would be heir to his throne. What magnificent sons she would bear him! Just at that moment there was a disturbance as the guards threw Oola inside. She screeched like an owl and stood up next to Leal. One of the guards threw her back down on the ground and told her to stay there. He raised his hand to hit her when Leal threw herself between her mother and the guard shouting, "Don't you hit her! She is an old woman!" The guard looked at Keck. Keck motioned for the guard to step back. Leal helped her mother up. Oola was a mousy looking woman with gray hair matted with Uru's blood. Most of her teeth were missing from years of abuse from her husband. Her nose had been broken so many times, it resembled a bony hook. Leal felt sorry for her mother and promised her that she would take care of her. Many times Oola told Leal what a pretty girl she had been when she met her father. Leal believed her. Keck was not particularly happy to see Oola, though, and was going to have her put to death, but his warriors told him that bringing her along with them was the only way they could get Leal to cooperate. They had already killed her father. She said that she would kill herself if they hurt her mother. The guards and the warriors were surprised to see that Keck was not at all angry at this bit of information, but rather pleased. Keck saw how much Leal loved her mother, and he saw in this love a bargaining chip. Oola would come very much in handy. Keck smiled. Then without saying anything, he mouthed the word, Leal. What a woman! Keck motioned for the guards to take Leal to a special hut not too near the entrance to his cave. He ordered four guards to be posted around the hut at all times. Leal was to have her mother with her -- for the moment -- and anything she wanted in the way of comfort. Even her mother was to be bathed and treated with respect. When the guards had departed with the two women, Keck sent for Kumi, shaman to the Gorloks. Kumi would have to study the heavens and let him know the day of the wedding. It would be a magnificent wedding, lasting ten days. There was also the unpleasant business of how to deal with Lome now that she would no longer be the number one wife. And that dimwit of a son of hers would no longer be heir to his throne. He would have to be careful, though. He knew Lome. She could be as just as vicious, depraved and immoral as himself. She would do anything for her son. He had already decided to dispatch the buffoon anyway. He was just waiting for the right opportunity. Now would be a good time. Maybe he would get rid of them both. Gorg sat unmoving as he listened to the story unfold. He was burning with hatred for this Keck. "How did you come by all this information, Amook?" "Kumi." "Oh." "Are you and Kumi friends?" "No." "Oh." After they finished eating Amook asked Vor to bring him his chest. Vor placed the chest at his father's feet. Amook opened the chest and withdrew a pouch made of unborn deerskin. It had a golden draw string. He opened the pouch and poured out four stones. Gorg's mouth flew open. Never had he seen such brilliance. Vor gasped. Amook reached for the brightest, the only one that was round, a diamond, about an inch in diameter. "This stone represents the god of the sun, father of all life. He handed it to Gorg. Gorg could not believe its brilliance. Gorg looked at it reverently. "Beware, Amook said, "this is not the god of the sun, it only represents the god of the sun." Amook handed him a red stone, a ruby. "This represents the goddess of the moon, ruler of the night." Next, Amook reached for the green one, an emerald. He handed it to Gorg. "This represents the goddess of the earth." As Amook reached for the last stone, a blue one, a sapphire, he said, "This represents the god of the sea." Gorg held all four of the stones in his hand. He shuddered with the power he felt. "Look deeply into the stones, Gorg. What do you see?" asked Amook. Gorg gazed upon the stones. His face seemed to glow from the brilliance he held in his hand. "Fire," he said. "I see fire. In each of them. I see white fire and blue fire and green fire and red fire." "Look closer, Gorg. What do you see?" " I see a man. I see a wolf, a black wolf, no, I see... I don't know. The man... The man looks a lot like me. And the wolf looks like... Koda?" "Each of these stones has a separate, special power, and each of these stones has a gift for you, but ultimately there is only one gift you will receive that you will truly treasure. The power of the stones working together is unfathomable. "What is the one gift that I will truly treasure, father?" "I cannot tell you that. You will know it when you get it. Remember, these stones do not belong to you," Amook admonished. "They belong to the gods. You will take these stones with you on your journey to save Leal. Vor will accompany you. You will find him invaluable. He has learned his lessons well. You both must guard these stones with your lives. They cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands, for to do so would bring disaster upon yourselves and the future of our people. If you see that you cannot protect them, you must die trying. That is the only way. Under no circumstance can you allow them to get out of your control. Do you understand and agree to these terms?" "I do," said Gorg. "And you, Vor? Do you agree to protect these stones with all your might?" "I do, sir," said Vor. "Hold out your right arm, Gorg," said Amook. Gorg held his right arm out. With a sharp knife Amook made a slash. The blood spurted and dripped onto the ground. Amook called Smoke and motioned for him to stand under Gorg's arm. Some of Gorg's blood dripped onto his head. "I will be more gentle with you, my friend," he said to Smoke. Amook made a slight incision on Smoke's right shoulder. Some of Gorg's blood fell onto Smoke's nose and Smoke licked it off. Amook looked at Smoke and nodded. Then Amook held the two wounds together and chanted over them as Gorg's blood flowed into Smoke's veins and Smoke's blood flowed into Gorg's veins. "You are now of the same blood, bound forever in mutual brotherhood. Your lives are indestructibly linked throughout eternity." Smoke looked up at Gorg, then down at the wound on his arm. Slowly he walked over and licked the wound. He looked back up at Gorg and for the first time they both realized that they shared the same soul. Gorg placed the stones back in their pouch and secured the golden strings. He placed the pouch in his pocket. "You must rest before beginning your journey, I have prepared a potion for you. Drink it; it will make you strong. When you awake, you will be ready to embark." When Gorg woke up he was surprised at how well rested he was. "I have a gift for you." And with that Amook handed Gorg a brand new bow and a quiver of arrows." Gorg was speechless. He tried to say something on the order of "Thank you," but the words failed to materialize. He just stood there dumbfounded. "Say nothing, my son," Amook said. Vor was ready to go. He had his bow and quiver already on his back. Gorg threw his quiver over his shoulder and grabbed his spears. Amook had prepared enough food for all three. As they started out the door, Smoke stopped and looked back at Amook. "Take care of them, my friend," he said. To be continued... DISCLAMER: The Silver Lining News is an electronic posting/print center for independent writers. The author of each article is solely responsible and liable for the views and opinions expressed in his/her article. © Copyright 2002 - The Silver Lining News. All material found on our Web site or printed is copyrighted by The Silver Lining News. No materials may be reproduced, or used without written permission from The Silver Lining News.