Foreign Murder Exchange
By Pamala Rush

All disclaimers apply. Special thanks to Debbie Nolan in Oz for her 
help on getting the Australia details correct.

	"Did you get one of these?" Jesse asked Susan as he 
entered the doctor's lounge with an unopened envelope in his 
hand.
	"You mean like this?" Susan asked as she held up her own 
unopened envelope.
	"What do you think? You think we got in?" Jesse asked.
	"We only find out if we open them," Susan replied.
	Jesse looked at his for a moment then said, "I can't. I'm too 
nervous."
	Susan looked down at hers. "So am I."
	Jesse and Susan were two candidates for a citywide 
exchange program with Sydney Australia. Several of the city's civil 
servants would be going. One doctor, one nurse, one cop, one 
lawyer; the list went on. They would spend six weeks at a hospital 
in Sydney, living with an employee from the hospital where they 
would be working. In their place, a doctor and nurse from Sydney 
would take their places here in LA at Community General.
	As far as they knew, Jesse and Susan were at the top of the 
list for doctors and nurses. In their hands was the result of the 
mayor's decision. They didn't have the nerve to open them.
	"You look like those envelopes are going to bite you," Mark 
said as he came into the room. "Are they what I think they are?"
	"Mark would you open them?" Jesse asked.
	Mark placed his glasses on his nose and took the envelopes 
from them. He opened one, then the other and read the contents 
of both. Finally he looked back up at the pair. "I hope you don't 
mind an eighteen hour flight," Mark said.
	"We're in?" Jesse asked.
	"Both of us?" Susan went on.
	"That's what it says here," Mark said as he looked back at 
the papers again.
	Outside, Amanda and Steve stood at the nurse's station 
discussing an autopsy, when a loud whoop came from the lounge.
	"Looks like they're going to Australia," Amanda said with a 
glance to the room.
	Steve didn't look up from the file he was looking at. "Yep. 
Looks like," he said.

	"Are you sure you have everything you need for the whole 
six weeks?" Mark asked as he watched Jesse and Susan pull their 
suitcases out of the back of Steve's Crewcab pickup.
	Steve helped the put the suitcases on the rack that would take them to be checked in for loading on the plane. Two big 
suitcases for each of them, and a makeup case and a hanging 
case for Susan were loaded up.
	"I hope so," Jesse said. "If we forgot anything important, we 
should be able to get it there. I hope."
	"I've never been to Australia before," Susan commented. "I 
hope we like it..."
	"...Or the next six weeks are going to be hell," Jesse 
finished for her.
	Mark laughed and stood next to Steve to take a look at the 
pair of adventurers. "Well, have fun," he said. "CG won't be the 
same without you."
	Jesse shook Mark's hand then patted him on the shoulder. 
"We will certainly try to have fun," he told the older man.
	Susan hugged him. "We'll take good care of each other," she 
said as Jesse shook Steve hand and offered him a goodbye. Susan 
then turned to Steve and offered him a short hug, then the two 
went inside the airport leaving Steve and Mark watching after 
them.
	"So what's the name of the doctor that's supposed to be 
staying with us?" Steve asked as he waved once to them before 
they disappeared.
	"Edwards, I think," Mark said. "He's the equivalent of a first 
year resident."
	"When's he supposed to get here?"
	Tomorrow," Mark answered.

	The knock on the door came at 8 a.m. the next morning. 
Steve called to his father that he would get it and trotted down the 
steps to the entry where he opened the door to find a young 
woman on the front stoop.
	"Is this the Sloan residence?" she asked with a thick 
Australian accent.
	"Yes," Steve answered. "Is there something I can do for 
you?"
	"I'm Dr. P. T. Edwards," she said. "The exchange doctor 
from Sydney Australia."
	Steve looked at her for a minute. She had green eyes under 
flame red hair that was cut short. Her suit was as red as her hair 
and in a style that he had never seen before. At her feet were two 
big suitcases, and she had a smaller one in her hands. "You were 
supposed to be a man," he said.
	"Do I look like a blooming man?" she said.
	"They only gave us your name, Petey Edwards," Steve said.
	"Someone must have heard wrong," she explained as she 
watched Mark approach from behind Steve. "It's P. T. My 
nickname is Petey, but my name is Patricia Theodora Edwards."
	"Well, someone sure got his or her wires crossed," Mark 
said as he stuck out his hand. "I'm Dr. Mark Sloan. This is my son 
Steve," he introduced.
	I'm Dr, P. T. Edwards," she replied with a slight smile. "But 
then I guess you already know that."
	"Come in," Mark said with a gesture as Steve moved aside.
	Steve's pager went off and he looked down to turn it off. "I'll 
be back," he said as he sprinted up the steps to the office.
	Mark grabbed her suitcases. "These are awfully light," he 
said as he led her to the guestroom.
	"I was planning on doing a bit of shopping," she said. "I 
hadn't expected to find you living on the beach."
	"We like it," Mark said as he set the cases down just inside 
the door of the extra bedroom. "This is where you'll be staying."
	Petey glanced around at the neutrally decorated room. "This 
is lovely," she said.
	"I'm glad you like it," Mark commented. "I'll let you get 
settled. Would you like some coffee or anything?"
	"Only if it's strong and black," came the answer.
	Mark turned and walked down the hall and up the short 
stairs to where Steve was just finishing his phone call. "What's 
up?" he asked.
	"There's been a murder," Steve said. "I've got to get going."
	"You think you'll be back in time for lunch?"
	Steve looked thoughtful. "I haven't the foggiest, but I'll try."

	Constable Eric Brenton, the exchange officer from 
Australia, was kneeling over the body when Steve got to the scene. 
Captain Newman was waiting for Steve to arrive, and he took 
Steve aside when he entered the room.
	"I'd like to partner you with the Constable," the captain 
said.
	"Sure," Steve said. "I don't mind."
	Steve joined his new partner. "Steve Sloan," he introduced 
himself.
	Eric shook Steve's hand. "Eric Brenton," he replied in an 
Aussie accent.
	"Find anything interesting?" Steve asked.
	Eric looked Steve straight in the eye. "I've seen this pattern 
before."
	"You have?"
	Eric nodded and looked down at the corpse. He had been 
stabbed repeatedly, and the bloody knife blade stuck under his 
neck as he lay on his back. The knife had an intricately painted 
handle with a shining new blade and no blood at all on the 
painted Mangrove root wood of the handle.
	"The knife is hand made," Eric told him. "The handle 
painted in Aboriginal designs." He looked back up at Steve. "This 
murderer has struck several times in both Australia and New 
Zealand."
	"And now in the United States," Steve finished.

	Jesse Travis walked down the hall of the Westmead General 
Hospital in Sydney Australia with Susan as Kari Norland took 
them on a very long and detailed tour of the facility. Westmead 
also housed a children's hospital where Kari worked in charge of 
the shift.
	"It may not be what you're used to, but we call it home," 
Kari said as she brought them back to the counter where they had 
begun their tour.
	"It's exciting just being here, Kari," Jesse commented as he 
flirted with the girl. Susan jabbed him in the ribs to remind him 
that she was indeed still there.
	A nurse at the desk grabbed Jesse's attention. "There's a 
call for you," she said. "Long distance from the states."
	Jesse looked at Susan, who shrugged, and took the offered 
receiver. "Jesse Travis..."
	"Hey, Jesse," came Steve's voice. "How's Sydney?"
	"So far so good, Steve," Jesse said. "Why are you calling me 
here? What's going on there?"
	"A murder," Steve replied.
	"When is that not true," Jesse commented.
	"A Constable Wiltshire is going to be asking for your 
assistance," Steve went on, ignoring Jesse's comment.
	"Why?"
	"According to the exchange officer," Steve explained. "He's 
seen this pattern in Australia and New Zealand." Steve described 
the scene to him. "I'm checking to see if this pattern has been seen 
anywhere else."
	"If they've been using an Aboriginal knife, then I would be 
surprised to find out that these murders had been committed 
anywhere else, much less the states," Jesse commented. "What I'd 
like to know is why the constable is going to ask me for help."
	"Because I recommended you for the job," came the familiar 
voice of a real-live person behind him.
	Jesse turned as Steve explained. "Tanis Archer is the 
exchange officer assigned to Sydney." Tanis was standing behind 
Jesse with another officer.
	"I see that, Jesse said into the phone. "Anything else you 
want to tell me before I hang up?"
	"No. Sergeant Archer should brief you on anything you need 
to know," Steve told him. "Keep in touch."
	"I will," Jesse said, then handed the receiver back to the 
nurse. He turned to Tanis.
	"This is Constable Joseph Wiltshire," Tanis introduced. "Dr. 
Jesse Travis."
	Wiltshire shook Jesse's hand. "I don't exactly understand 
why we are using the good doctor's help," he said.
	"He helps a friend of mine in the states on cases all the 
time," Tanis explained. "And I wouldn't have solved a recent case 
without him. He'll be a medical consultant for us."
	"I usually use the pathologist as a consultant," Wiltshire 
said. "When I need one."
	"One of my best friends is a pathologist," Jesse said. "I have 
experience in this area, and I know I can help on this case. If 
you'll let me."
	Wiltshire studied Jesse carefully. "OK, but stay out of my 
way." He stalked off.
	Tanis stuck out her hand. "Welcome to the team, Doctor."
	Jesse shook it then turned to Susan and Kari, who had 
observed the conversations without a word. "Let's get to work. 
Kari, can you show me to the pathologist's office?"
	Kari turned to lead him away from the counter. "You want 
my help?"
	"Sure, why not?" Jesse replied. "I'll need someone who 
knows their way around Sydney and this hospital to help out."

	Petey had on a green swimsuit that brought out the color of 
her hair when she came out of the spare bedroom, ready to go out 
the back door. Steve was sitting at the desk studying the 
computer's screen. He glanced up at her as she came into the 
room, then waved her over.
	"Have you read about the murders committed using the 
Aboriginal knives?" he asked.
	Petey nodded. "They stab the victim several times, then 
leave the knives under their necks or their heads or something. 
Why?"
	"I'm investigating one that's been committed here," Steve 
said.
	Petey's eyebrows went up. "You're kidding."
	Steve shook his head and handed her a knife encased in a 
plastic bag. She looked over the knife. "Wow. This is really 
interesting."
	"Can you tell me anything about this?"
	"More than you might think," Petey replied. "I grew up with 
an Aboriginal tribe living near my father's ranch. I made many 
friends among them."
	"OK, tell me what you know," Steve said.
	"I'm not completely sure about the markings," she told him. 
"It looks like something ceremonial. Duggen could probably tell 
you more."
	"Duggen? Who's he?"
	"A close friend who just happens to be an Aborigine," Petey 
answered. "You want me to give him a call?"
	"You can call the outback?" Steve asked.
	"You have telephones in Montana, don't you?"
	"Yes," Steve answered.
	"We have telephones in the outback back home as well," 
Petey replied.

	Duggen was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of 
his little shack, hat pulled down over his eyes, feet propped up on 
the porch rail, when Petey's call came in. "G'day," he said into the 
receiver, having moved only his arm to answer the phone beside 
him.
	"Long distance from Los Angeles California in the United 
States," the operator said, and connected with a click.
	"G'day," Duggen said again.
	"Duggen, it's Petey," came her voice over the line.
	Duggen sat up and smiled. "Petey?! What a surprise," he 
said. "What are you doin' in the blooming states?"
	"Doctorin'," Petey replied," he said. "What are you doin' in 
the blooming states?"
	"Doctorin'," Petey replied. "I need your help."
	"Sure 'nuf," Duggen said. "What do you need?"
	"I need you to help me identify the markings on a knife that 
has been used as a murder weapon," she told him.
	"Wha', you bein' a constable now?"
	Petey laughed. "No, I'm just helping the local constabulary 
on a case that seems to have crossed the ocean with me."
	"You talkin' 'bout the serial murders that's been happinen 
heres abouts and in New Zealan'?"
	"Yeah," Petey said.
	"Anythin' to help," Duggen said. "Describe it to me."
	Petey reached out and Steve handed the plastic encased 
knife to her. "It has a handle which is obviously made of Mangrove 
root and painted with aboriginal designs. It looks like a crocodile 
or something. Maybe with a bird on its back, I don't know. They 
are outlined with thin black lines, but the colors are bright. The 
croc is bright green, but not florescent." She peered at the handle 
again and turned it. "No, wait. The bird is *IN* the croc's mouth. 
It's bright red with an orange beak."
	"Any vegetation?" Duggen asked.
	"Just some kind of ferns on the opposite side from the croc, 
I think," Petey answered.
	"Have all the knives involved had the same design?"
	Petey relayed the question and Steve nodded. "Yes," she 
said into the phone. "Is there something significant about it?"
	"Not really," Duggen said. Petey looked dejected as Duggen 
went on. "There's some kind of cult in New South Wales that's 
been using a lot of Aboriginal influences in their... well..., their 
practices."
	"And now it seems to have spread to LA," Petey said.
	"That's what it sounds like," Duggen said.
	"Thanks for the help, Duggen," Pete said. "The local 
constabulary thank you as well."
	"Talk later," Duggen said just before the line went dead.
	Steve listened as Petey told him what Duggen had said. "So 
what do you think?" she asked.
	"I don't know what to think," Steve said.
	"Maybe you'd better get hold of your friend Travis and ask 
him to look out for this cult down there," Petey suggested.
	"That's what I was just thinking," Steve replied.

	Jesse was asleep on the couch in the tiny doctor's lounge at 
Westmead when Susan came in and shook him with a yawn. "You 
off?" she asked when he woke up and looked at her.
	"Mmm hmm," he said and lay his head back down.
	"Jet lag?"
	"Mmm hmm."
	"Me too," Susan said as she slipped down on to the floor 
and lay her head back on Jesse's leg. They both lay quiet, dozing 
until Kari burst into the room causing them both to jump.
	"Wake up!" she hollered. "Dr. Travis, you're wanted on the 
phone. Long distance from the states."
	"Again?" Jesse said rolling over on his side on the couch 
and rolling up in a ball. Susan just looked up at Kari with venom 
in her eyes.
	Kari pulled the phone over to the couch and handed the 
receiver to Jesse. "What?" Jesse said into the phone.
	"You sound tired." It was Steve.
	"It's called jet lag, Steve," Jesse answered. "What's up?"
	"Have you heard anything about a cult that uses Aboriginal 
influences?" Steve asked.
	"I haven't, but just a sec." Jesse looked up to Kari and 
posed the question to her.
	She nodded. "They call themselves the Dream Makers. They 
seem to believe that they are the messengers from whoever they 
believe created the dreams."
	Jesse passed the message to Steve. "Sounds interesting," 
Steve said. "How does she know all of this?"
	Jesse asked Kari and she answered, "There's a couple of 
workers round that are part of the group."
	Jesse passed it on then said, "Do you want us to check it 
out?"
	Steve paused. "In the morning," he said. "It's tonight there, 
right."
	"Right," Jesse answered. "Which means it's this morning 
there, right?"
	A chuckle came from the other end of the line. "This 
morning," he agreed.
	"Then I'll talk to you tonight," he said. "Or is that 
tomorrow?"
	"Jesse," Steve said. "Get some sleep."
	"Good idea," Jesse answered and handed the phone receiver 
back to Kari.

	Mark whistled a happy tune as he walked down the 
corridors of Community General Hospital going about the 
business of the hospital's head on internal medicine. Maggie 
stopped him for a moment with a young man.
	"Mark this is Bruce Meredith," the hospital's nursing 
administrator introduced. "He's the Australian nurse here in 
Susan's place."
	Mark shook the man's hand. "Pleasure to meet you. You're 
from the same hospital where Petey Edwards works, aren't you?"
	"Yup, sure enough," Bruce said. "I hear you are a 
consultant with the police department round here. What exactly 
does that entail?"
	"Mostly I help my son with cases," Mark answered.
	"Your son's a constable?"
	"Here he's a Lieutenant," Mark explained. "But yes."
	"Guess life doesn't get too boring round here, then."
	Mark shook his head. "Not too boring," he said. "Have you 
gotten a good look at the hospital?"
	"Sure did," he replied. "Met that pretty little pathologist you 
got down stairs. I told her that any wanker who'd leave her for a 
job in Europe is just not fit to walk the same Earth as she does."
	Mark chuckled. "What'd she say to that?"
	"She agreed that I was right," Bruce said. "But only part of 
the time."
	Mark laughed. "Why am I not surprised?"
	Bruce laughed too, then regained control. "I don't s'pose 
you'd know where I could get some good food?"
	"I'm a bit partial to this little place called Bar BQ Bob's," 
Mark said. "But it's probably because my son runs the place and 
I'm a partial owner."
	Bruce let out a breath through his teeth. "When does he get 
spare time?"
	"Not very often," Mark said with a slap to his back.

	Jesse crawled out of bed trying to remember what he was 
supposed get done before his shift this afternoon. Then he 
remembered what Steve had asked of him. With a yawn, he went 
to see if Susan of Kari wanted to go with him, only to find that 
they had already left. He dragged himself to the kitchen where he 
found a pot of hot black coffee waiting for him. "God bless you," he 
murmured to no one in particular.
	He was on his second cup when Susan and Kari came into 
the apartment, laughing. When they saw him, they stopped 
abruptly. "Good morning, Jess," they said together.
	"Good morning, ladies," Jesse replied. "You two are sure 
bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning."
	Susan bit her lip. "We went for some breakfast," she told 
him as she held out the container. "And brought some back for 
you."
	Jesse grabbed a fork out of a drawer and opened the 
container. He shoveled a forkful into his mouth, chewed, then 
swallowed. "You two going to come with me?"
	"To poke around for the Dream Makers?" Susan asked. "I 
traded shifts with someone for today, and have to work this 
morning."
	"I can come with you," Kari said. "I think I might know 
where to find them."
	With that, Jesse wolfed down his breakfast, grabbed a 
shower and some fresh clothes, and went with Kari in her little 
car, dropping Susan at the hospital before going to their eventual 
destination.
	The old theatre was quiet outside, but people milled around 
inside, busy as bees making honey. What they were doing, Jesse 
couldn't even begin to guess. He stopped one of the task masters 
and asked for the guy who was running things. The worker 
pointed to the projector room, so Jesse and Kari made their way 
there.
	"...That's not the way we do things here," said the man as 
he talked on a phone. He saw the two in the doorway and waved 
them in. "We are messengers, not warriors. We are peaceful. If you 
don't like it, you can kiss my...hello? Hello?" He looked at the 
receiver for a moment before hanging the phone up and looking up 
at his visitors. "New members," he said with a smile. "How can I 
help you?"
	"We're not really new members, we're helping the local 
police and the LAPD on a case that seems to have jumped 
continents," Jesse began to explain. "We just want to ask you a 
few questions."
	"What kind of case is it," the man said as he sat down.
	Jesse began to explain when he was stopped. "We have 
nothing to do with those murders," he said. "We told the police 
that."
	"Maybe someone here has been involved without your 
knowledge," Jesse suggested.
	The man put his fist down hard on the desk and leaned 
forward. "We are not, I repeat, not violent people. We deliver the 
messages that we are told to deliver in the walkabout. Killing isn't 
usually the message we're told to deliver."
	"Then you wouldn't mind if I witnessed a walkabout," Jesse 
suggested.
	"We don't allow people to witness our ceremonies," he told 
Jesse. "If you want to know what the walkabout is, you'll have to 
join in the ceremony and promise to reveal what you have seen 
only to whoever the message is for."
	Before Kari could say anything to stop him, Jesse had 
agreed.

	Two identical knives encased in plastic bags and covered 
with blood lay on the counter at BBQ Bob's. The restaurant was 
just getting ready to open for the lunch crowd, such as it was, and 
the only people in the dining room were Steve, Mark, Amanda and 
their two guests from Australia. The restaurant's workers were in 
the kitchen preparing for the day's business as the five people in 
the dining room discussed the case which had police in three 
countries stumped.
	"The bodies have been simple enough," Amanda said. 
"There has been no particular pattern to the killings besides the 
murder weapon left behind."
	"Positioned under the victim's neck," Eric added.
	"Decorated in Aboriginal designs," was Petey's point.
	"No blood OR prints on the handle," Steve put in.
	"Made out of an Australian wood called Mangrove root," 
Mark said.
	"And no other clues at all," Amanda finished, running her 
hand through her short brown hair then setting her chin into the 
hand. "Anything from Jess?"
	Steve looked down at his watch. "I don't know yet. He said 
he was going to go talk to them this morning...or is it yesterday 
morning?"
	Chuckles came from everyone in the group. "And you 
haven't heard back yet?" Petey asked.
	"Just a brief call from him saying he was going to do 
something called 'walkabout'," Steve told them.
	"That ought to be a learning experience for him," Petey said. 
"I've done the Aboriginal walkabout, and it's not a pretty sight 
when you get home."

	One hundred miles from Sydney, Jesse Travis and four 
Dream Makers stood around the makings of a fire dressed in 
nothing but loincloths with Aboriginal markings painted on their 
bodies. All four had pale skin and bleached hair similar to Jesse. 
Rich Caveat, the man Jesse had spoken to at the theatre, stood in 
the circle fully dressed with a sack of an unknown plant which he 
dumped on the firewood. He turned to Jesse.
	"One of the others will light the fire," he explained as he put 
his hand on Jesse's shoulder. "The plant which I have put on it 
will make a lot of smoke. Stay within the smoke until the fire 
dies." He turned to look at the others then came back to Jesse. 
"It'll take about two hours. Keep your mind clear. Don't think 
about anything consciously. Just let things flow by themselves. 
When the fire burns out, you can get up and walk around. This is 
our own version of the walkabout that's different from the 
Aborigine. You must stay out here for 24 hours with no food or 
drink."
	"You said this wouldn't be dangerous, but isn't that 
dangerous?" Jesse asked.
	Rich nodded. "Yes, but we have people hidden out there." 
His arm swept around them. "You won't see them unless you need 
them." He paused to look back into Jesse's eyes. "Are you sure 
about this?" Jesse nodded. "Do you need anything before I leave 
you?" Jesse shook his head. "Do you understand what you will be 
going through?" Another nod. "Then I wish you luck." Rich patted 
Jesse's shoulder, then left the men alone.
	Three of the others sat cross legged on the ground. Jesse 
followed suit as the fourth went forward with a couple of stones. 
He struck them over the dry kindling until a spark ignited it. 
Gently he blew on the spark until other portions of the kindling lit 
and soon a fire was going. Seconds later, the dried plant caught 
and created a thick gray smoke.
	The man sat in the circle next to Jesse, put his hands on 
his knees, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Jesse followed suit 
until his mind was clear and the plant began to effect it.
	Jesse didn't know how long he had been sitting when Steve 
walked out of the smoke to stand above him. Jesse suddenly 
seemed to be on his feet, and when he looked down, he found that 
he was. He could not consciously remember having gotten to his 
feet.
	Steve walked back through the smoke and out onto the 
plains. Jesse followed, but could not feel the heat of the sun, nor 
did he notice his bare feet burning on the arid sand. Jesse looked 
out over the plain then back to Steve, but he was gone. He looked 
down to see a crocodile walking beside him at his feet. It occurred 
to him that he should be wary of the animal, but in his state he 
was, for some reason, not.
	A few feet later, he realized that the animal had stopped 
and he turned to look behind him. A form lay on the ground, not 
moving, with a figure leaning over it. He turned back to find that it 
was Amanda over a dead man whose face he could not see.
          A man that Jesse didn't recognize came into the scene and 
stood at the dead man's head. He had a knife in his hand, and 
squatted down to slide it under the body's neck. He stood back up 
and looked straight into Jesse's eyes.
	The man turned and slowly walked away then turned into a 
red bird with an orange beak and disappeared into the sky. Jesse 
started to go after him but movement from Amanda stopped him. 
She looked up at him with sad eyes, then came to her feet and 
walked away. Jesse looked down at the body and realized who it 
was.
	Mark lay in the pool of blood that several stab wounds had 
caused. Suddenly, Steve was there, lifting Mark's shoulders and 
clinging to him. He picked his father's body up and walked off into 
nothingness, leaving Jesse alone.
	Jesse looked up into the sky where the sun had set and the 
full moon shown leaving light for him to see by. He screamed at 
the top of his lungs over and over until he was so hoarse that he 
couldn't scream anymore. He collapsed to the sand and passed 
out.

	Jesse came awake with a start to find himself wrapped in a 
blanket and laying on the couch in the theatre office. Rich was 
standing over him with a cool cloth that he had been about to put 
on his forehead.
	"You're awake," Rich began.
	"No kidding," Jesse said as he pushed the blanket aside 
and sat up on the couch. The images from the-- he could only call 
it a vision-- had been so intense that they still danced in his head 
and in front of his eyes.
	He was still dressed in the loincloth, but the body paint had 
long since been washed away by sweat and tears.
	"How do you feel?" Rich asked him as he squatted down on 
the floor next to him.
	"Tired," Jesse said. "What happened out there?"
	"You had a vision," Rich answered. "It must have been some 
vision, too, because you started screaming and didn't stop for a 
very long time."
	"My friend was...," Jesse began.
	"No," Rich stopped him. "The first person you must tell your 
vision to is the person who you saw first. The person for whom the 
message was intended."
	Jesse looked around until he saw the phone on the desk. "I 
need to make a call," he said. Rich nodded, then Jesse added, 
"Long distance to the states."
	"Was it someone you knew?" Rich asked as he went for the 
phone.
	"A friend," Jesse said taking the phone. "A good friend." He 
started to dial the phone.
	"You must be very close," Rich commented. "To have a 
message for him."
	Jesse finished dialing and looked up at him. "He's been like 
a brother to me," he said as he listened to the line ring.

	Steve was pulled from a deep sleep by the phone ringing in 
his ear. He growled as he reached out a bare arm to grab the 
receiver and put it to his ear. "Hello," he said as he pushed away 
the covers and sat up.
	"Steve, it's Jesse," he said sounding a bit out of sorts.
	Steve looked down at his watch. "Do you know what time it 
is here?"
	"Three o'clock in the morning," Jesse replied, matter-of-
factly. "I need to talk to you."
	Steve rubbed his eyes. "What about?"
	"Walkabout."
	Steve was silent for a minute. "What about it?"
	"The message I got is meant for you."
	Steve was silent for another moment. "Go on."
	Jesse took at least twenty minutes to explain the vision to 
him in extremely great detail. It was as if some small detail left out 
would be something important.
	When he finished, Steve sat stunned on the edge of his bed. 
"You think the guy who turned into the bird is the killer we're 
looking for?" he asked.
	"Yes," Jesse answered. "And I think that Mark is going to be 
his next victim."
	"How can you be so sure? It may have just been a dream."
	"It wasn't a dream," Jesse told him with conviction. "I can't 
explain it. It was just so scary."
	"Scarier than when you thought the government was after 
you and you thought you had been abducted by aliens?" Steve 
asked.
	"Yes."
	Jesse's voice was steadier than he had ever heard it. "Do 
you know who the guy was?" Steve asked.
	"No," Jesse said. "I never saw him before."
	"If you do see him," Steve said not knowing what else to 
say. "Let me know."
	"Will do," Jesse said, then hung up the phone.
	Steve put the receiver back in the cradle and sat looking at 
his clasped hands. Finally he let out a breath and got up to go 
take a shower.

	"That was some message," Rich said when Jesse hung up 
the phone.
	"I really don't know what to think about it," Jesse said. 
"And I *really* don't know what to DO about it."
	"You've done as much as you can," Rich said as he handed 
Jesse his clothes. Jesse stood looking at them as Rich went on. 
"All you can do is be aware of the people around you."
	Jesse looked back up at Rich. "But the guy's probably in 
the states right now. How will I be able to find him?"
	"Be aware of everything around you," Rich replied as he led 
Jesse into a small bathroom with a shower. "Get cleaned up and 
I'll take you back to where you are staying." He paused then spoke 
again. "You know that you're one of us, don't you?" Jesse looked 
at him. "More one of us then most of the rest of us."

	Steve waited until he was alone with Amanda and his father 
in the doctor's lounge before he broached the subject he didn't 
want to contemplate. That one of their new Aussie friends was a 
killer.
	"Why would you think that, son?" Mark asked him.
	"Mostly because of the timing," Steve said. "They murders 
started happening here after they arrived and ended there when 
they left there."
	"That does make sense," Amanda stated. "Plus, the 
Aboriginal influence in the knife make it look like the person 
knows something about it."
	"Are you saying that the killer could be Petey?" Mark asked.
	"It's possible," Steve replied. "And the killings are too much 
like the Australian and New Zealand killings to be just copycat 
killings. This is according to Detective Archer."
	"What did Jesse find out about the Dream Makers?" Mark 
asked his son.
	Steve seemed a bit hesitant about talking about it, but he 
explained about Jesse's phone call of the middle of the night. "He 
sounded so sure," he said. "I never saw him act that way before."
	"If it makes anyone feel any better," Mark said. "I'll keep an 
eye out for trouble."
	"That's all I ask," Steve replied.
	"What about the others?" Amanda said, steering the 
conversation back to the exchange people. "Constable Brenton 
and Bruce Meredith and the others?"
	"Brenton was with me when the most recent one occurred," 
Steve pointed out. "He's not the killer."
	"Maybe we should look into their extra-curricular activities 
in Sydney," Mark suggested.
	"Archer and Constable Wiltshire have been looking into 
that. Jesse's keeping tabs with them," Steve said.
	Bruce Meredith came in the room at that moment and any 
more conversation on the subject had to be dropped. Bruce went 
to the soda machine, dropped some coins in, pushed the button 
and grabbed the soda before turning to the rest of the people in 
the room. "G'day everyone," he said. "What's doin'?"
	"Not much," Steve said as he stood to leave. "I'll see you at 
the restaurant later, dad."
	"By the way Lieutenant," Bruce said, interrupting Steve's 
departure. "I been meanin' to tell ya that you got a right fine 
restran' with good food."
	Steve smiled slightly. "I'll be sure to relay your compliments 
to the staff," he said then left the room.
	"I like it here," Bruce said as he sat down on one of the 
couches. "Better furniture in the lounge, nice people, great 
scenery..." he winked at Amanda.
	"Excuse me," Amanda said as she stood. "I have some work 
to do."
	"Got to hang out with some stiffs, eh?" he commented.
	"Something like that," Amanda answered before she walked 
out past Petey who was on the way in.
	"Morning Dr. Sloan," Petey said. "I'm sorry I missed you this 
mornin'. I wanted to check on a patient who had come in last 
night. He was in bad shape but he's doon' better now."
	"That's good," Mark stated.
	"How'r you likin' it here?" Bruce asked.
	"I like it," she told him. "But I can't wait to get home."
	"I can," Bruce said. "I was meant to be here."
	"Why do you think that?" Mark asked.
	"Cause the vision told muh so," he replied.
	Petey rolled her eyes. "Visions smisions," she said. "You 
goin' nuts."
	"I always was, gorgeous," Bruce said as he took his soda 
and left the room.
	"That man thinks he knows more about Aboriginal 
practices than the Aborigines," she said after he left.

	Susan and Kari were laughing over a photo album of Kari's 
memories when Jesse joined them after getting a shower and a 
change of clothes. He'd slept for twelve hours and now had to 
work twelve hours straight for two days to make up for the two 
days he'd lost on walkabout.
	"G'day, Jess," Kari said as she glanced up from the 
pictures.
	"You look like you had a good sleep," Susan said as she got 
up from the couch to kiss his cheek.
	"I did," Jesse said. "What are you looking at?"
	"Pictures of some of the group activities we do at work," 
Kari said as Susan sat back down next to her.
	Jesse sat on her other side and looked over the pictures. 
"This is Petey," Kari said as she pointed to a red-haired woman in 
one of the photographs. "She's the doctor who got to go to Los 
Angeles."
	"She's pretty," Jesse commented. "I think she's supposed to 
be staying with Mark and Steve."
	Kari only nodded and turned the page. On the next page 
was a picture of five or six nurses from the hospital two of which 
were male. One of them leapt out at Jesse.
	"Who's this?" he asked.
	"Bruce Meredith," Kari answered. "He was a great guy for a 
long time. I think he is one of the Dream Makers, but I can't be 
sure. Lately he's been a bit of an egotist."
	"He's in the states," Jesse said. It wasn't really a question.
	"He's the exchange nurse," Kari said. "Why?"
	"I've got to call Steve," he said as he hopped up. "Mark's in 
danger."
	"How?" Susan asked, but Jesse was dialing the phone. 
"Jesse!"
	"Wait," Jesse said holding a hand in the air. Into the phone 
he said, "Collect from Jesse."

	"I have a collect call from Jesse in Sydney Australia," the 
operator said when Steve picked up the phone. "Will you accept 
the charges?"
	"Yes," Steve answered then when the line clicked said, 
"Jesse. Is something wrong?"
	"It's Bruce Meredith," Jesse said. "He's the killer."
	"What evidence did you find?"
	"I saw him in the message," Jesse said. "He was the guy 
with the knife who I didn't recognize."
	"Jesse are you sure?" Steve asked.
	"Absolutely," Jesse replied. "Kari was showing Susan some 
photographs and I saw him in one of them. I recognized him."
	"I can't arrest him on just your word," Steve said.
	"I know," Jesse replied sounding a bit exasperated. "But 
you can keep an eye on him."
	"I don't have probably cause to keep an eye on him, Jess," 
Steve said.
	"Then stay close to Mark," Jesse said. "He's going to be the 
next victim."
	"Jesse, I humored you in the middle of the night the other 
night because I knew you had just finished this walkabout thing. 
Petey told us that they can be pretty grueling. Now, however, you 
have had some rest and..."
	"Steve just keep an eye on Mark!" Jesse insisted before 
hanging up on him.
	Steve looked at the receiver before hanging it up. He 
considered Jesse's words for minute before deciding that a few 
extra precautions wouldn't hurt. He called the hospital to request 
that they beef up security a little, then went out the front door to 
meet his father at BBQ Bob's.

	Petey opened the front door of the Sloan house after a 
sixteen hour shift at the hospital using the spare key that Mark 
had provided. She hung her coat on the coat tree and put her 
purse on the small table in the entry. She was glad that she had 
gotten to know the house in the dark. Tripping and breaking a 
limb would not be a good way to start the evening.
	The phone rang, and she answered it. It was Steve. "Yes, 
I'm joining you at Bob's," she told him when he asked her. "I want 
to get a shower and a change of clothes." She paused as Steve told 
her to hurry. "I'm the fastest dresser in Westmead hospital. I'll be 
there in a half hour."
	She said her good-byes to Steve and hung up the phone. 
She slipped off her shoes next to the hall stand with the phone 
and headed into the kitchen to see if there were any coffee she 
could drink before she went for her shower. She didn't make it 
that far.
	She didn't realize that someone was in the house until she 
felt his hands and the cold steel of a knife at her neck.
	"Where's Dr. Sloan?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
	Petey went stiff. "He's at the restaurant," she answered. 
"Why do you want him?"
	"Because he's the croc," the man said.
	She could tell he was Australian because of his accent, but 
anything else was a mystery to her. He held her flat against his 
chest with his hand around her neck and the blade of the knife 
position to kill her if he thought he needed to.
	"The croc?" Petey hoped that if she kept him talking, she 
could find out who he was.
	"The bloody croc!" he exclaimed as he jerked her. She 
gasped. "The one who will consume me if I give him half a chance!"
	Tears began to pour from her eyes as she tried to stay calm 
and think. Before she could form a plan, he spoke again.
	"What you are going to do," he said from between clenched 
teeth. "Is call the restaurant and get him here."
	He pulled her into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. He 
dialed the restaurant and put the receiver up to her ear so she 
could speak. He put his mouth so close to her other ear so that 
she could feel his breath tickling it.
	"Talk," he said when someone answered. "Don't let him 
know that anything's wrong."
	"Bar BQ Bob's," came the voice. "Can I help you?"
	"Is Mark there?"
	"Just a minute," the person said, then a bit off, "Dr. Sloan." 
Mark's voice came on after a second of silence.
	"Mark Sloan."
	"Mark this is Petey."
	"Hello Petey. Are you on your way here?"
	"Not yet," she replied. "I seemed to have injured myself. Not 
badly enough to call an ambulance, but enough so that I can't 
drive myself."
	"Are you OK?"
	"Yes. I just need to get to the hospital," she said, her voice a 
bit shaky. The man whispered something in her ear. "But come 
alone. It's a bit of an embarrassment."
	"I'll be there as soon as I can," Mark said. "Just wait, OK?"
	"I'll be here," Petey said. The man behind her hung up the 
phone and walked her back into the living room.
	"Are you going to let me go now?" she asked a bit shakily.
	"Not until he gets here," he replied. "In the meantime..." He 
struck her over the head and she fell to the floor.

	Mark hung up the phone. "Who was it dad?" Steve asked as 
he leaned on the counter across from Mark and Amanda.
	"Petey," Mark answered. "She said she hurt herself and 
needed someone to drive her to the hospital."
	"Why didn't she just call an ambulance?" Amanda asked 
from her seat at the counter next to Mark.
	"She said it wasn't bad enough for an ambulance, but she 
couldn't drive herself. She must have fallen in the shower or 
something," Mark said. "She seemed a bit embarrassed by the 
whole thing."
	"You need someone to go with you?" Steve asked.
	"No," Mark replied. "I can handle it." He slid out of his seat. 
"Don't wait for me."
	Steve had a strange look on his face as he watched Mark 
drive away through the window, so Amanda asked him what was 
wrong.
	"Dad seemed a bit more concerned than he was trying to 
make us believe," he said. Making a decision, he pulled at the 
strings at his waist and pulled the apron he was wearing over his 
jeans away. He put it under the counter and picked up his keys.
	"Where are you going?" Amanda asked.
	"Home," Steve replied as he went out the door.

	Bruce Meredith sat on the couch in the beach house over 
Petey's unconscious form and waited in the dark. He leaned his 
head back and saw the dream again. A crocodile with a red bird in 
its mouth. He was the red bird. The croc snapped its mouth 
closed, swallowing the bird whole, before starting to change 
shapes. It turned into Mark Sloan.
	He glanced down at the knife handle in his hand, the 
Mangrove root handle painted with the images from the message. 
A message that only he could interpret properly.
	He seemed to wait forever, staring at the knife handle, 
before he heard someone at the front door. Mark entered the 
darkened entry leaving the door open. When Bruce saw that he 
was alone, he stood and went to the light switch.
	"Petey?" Mark called. "Are you here?" He moved forward 
into the house where he saw the shadowed outline of Petey laying 
on the floor. He knelt down and checked her neck, relieved to find 
a beating pulse. When the lights flipped on suddenly, he jumped 
to his feet, momentarily blinded by their sudden brightness. He 
blinked, trying to get his eyes used to the light.
	"We've got to protect ourselves from those who would 
destroy us," came a voice from the brightness. Mark recognized it 
as Bruce's.
	"Bruce?" he said blinking a couple more times before he 
could finally see Bruce standing there by the switch.
	Bruce stepped forward, and Mark caught the glint from his 
hand. He held a knife in his hand, a knife of new metal with a 
handle of Mangrove root and painted with a crocodile and a red 
bird. Mark knew he was in trouble.
	Mark stood looking at him, watching as he began to circle 
the couch. Bruce lifted the knife and was about to step forward 
and plunge it into Mark's chest, when a movement stopped him.
	"Freeze," Steve said as he stood in the shadows of the entry 
with his gun pointed at Bruce's chest.
	"Oh yeah," Bruce said, staring him down. "Or what?"
	"Or I'll drop you," Steve answered.
	Bruce jerked Mark in front of himself with such a quick 
movement that Steve couldn't do anything. "And kill you precious 
father in the process?"
	Steve took his hand off the trigger of the gun, and lowered it 
slightly. "Let him go, Meredith."
	"Who's got the upper hand here, Sloan?" Bruce growled. 
"Why it looks like I do? Doesn't it?"
	Steve stood, thinking and hating this damn standoff where 
he couldn't do anything for his father. Movement from the floor 
behind them caught his eye, and he glanced down to see that 
Petey was conscious. She gave him a thumbs up sign, and 
reached out her hand for Mark's pant leg. With a couple of tugs, 
he didn't look down, but winked at Steve. Steve held his gun back 
up and put his finger back on the trigger.
	The two seconds of silence in which this all happened was a 
bit too much for Bruce, and he held the knife closer to Mark's 
throat. "Don't look at me like that!" he shouted.
	"Go to hell," Steve replied.
	At that signal, Petey grabbed Bruce's leg and pulled hard. 
He fell towards her, inadvertently cutting her arm with the knife. 
Mark fell away from Bruce's grasp and to the floor in the opposite 
direction from Bruce, while Steve leapt forward to grasp the man's 
wrist and twist his arm behind him. He straddled him and began 
cuffing him as Mark scrambled to his feet to see if Petey was OK.
	"I'm fine," she said as she scrambled out from under 
Bruce's head and arms.
	Mark ran into the kitchen for some towels to stop the 
bleeding as Petey sat on the floor holding pressure on the wound. 
Steve looked up at her.
	"Thanks for the assist," he said.
	"No problem," she replied.

	"Sixteen stitches," she said holding up her right arm. 
"That's how many it too to sew up my arm."
	"I didn't have to count," Mark commented with a smile. 
"She did it for me."
	The group sat at Bar BQ Bob's eating a late supper. The 
restaurant was closed, so the only people there were Steve, Mark, 
Amanda and Eric.
	"That was a brave thing you did," Eric said.
	Petey snorted. "It was nothing another red blooded Aussie 
wouldn't have done."
	"Above and beyond the call of duty, I'd say," Steve said to 
which Mark heartily agreed.
	"I wish we could keep you," Mark said.
	"And what would we do with Jesse?" Amanda asked.
	"We'd keep him, too," Mark said.
	"What and keep all the good docs to yourselves?" Eric said. 
"That wouldn't be too fair to those of us in Oz."
	Petey leaned back and stretched. "I am looking forward to 
going home," she said.
	"Who doesn't?" Eric said. "Don't get me wrong, I like 
California..."
	"But there's no place like home," Amanda put in as the 
phone rang.
	Steve got up to answer it as the rest of the group chatted 
amiably.
	"Bar BQ Bob's," he answered.
	"Collect call from Jesse in Sydney Australia. Will you accept 
the charges?"
	"He'd better," came Jesse's voice. "I help run the joint."
	Steve smiled. "I'm tempted to say no, but yes."
	"Good choice," Jesse said. "Archer told me you got him."
	"Meredith? Yeah."
	"It was definitely him then?"
	"Yes," Steve replied. "I caught him with the knife in his 
hand."
	"He was after Mark wasn't he?"
	Steve sighed. "Yes, Jesse. Dad's OK, Petey's OK, everyone's 
OK."
	"Good," Jesse said. "How's business?"
	"Dead," Steve replied. "But then it's almost eleven p.m."
	"We close at ten thirty," Jesse said.
	"Exactly," Steve said. "Why'd you call here, Jesse?"
	"Because no one was home and they told me at the hospital 
that you weren't there," Jesse told him. "I've got you on 
conference, can you put me on conference on your end?"
	"Sure," Steve replied. "Give me a sec." He pulled the phone 
over the counter and to the table where everyone was sitting. 
"Jesse's on the phone and he wants to talk to everyone." He 
pushed a button and hung up the receiver. "Ya there Jess?"
	"We're here," Jesse said. "Susan, Kari and I."
	"G'day, Kari!" Petey said.
	"Hello, Petey and everyone," came Kari's voice. "I hear you 
solved our little mystery."
	"That we did," Mark said. "We hear that you helped with the 
investigation on your end."
	"Only to get Jesse where he needed to be," Kari said.
	"It helped," Jesse said.
	"I thank you from here," Mark said.
	"Although, I could have gone without the bump on the 
head," Petey commented. "And the sixteen stitches on the cut in 
my arm."
	"Ouch," Susan said. "I'm afraid I wasn't much help."
	"I'm sure you were in your own way," Petey told her.
	"Only two weeks until we trade back," Jesse said. "The 
surf's great here, but I can't wait to get home."