Story Archive

The Early Years -

Baltimore

by Unruhe & Lywendre

 

 

The Early Years - Baltimore

by Unruhe & Lywendre

 

Category: Angst, UST, RSV, and a dash of humor.

    No-romo safe: Scaly isn't even in the FBI yet!

Rating: a mild NC-17 for some violence, language, and adult situations

Summary: More about those early days of the Lone Gunmen.

Set post-Unusual Suspects.

 

Disclaimer: We own Byers, Langly, Frohike, a large tin of extra-virgin

olive oil and some furry handcuffs. Unfortunately, there's this pesky

little guy named Chris Carter who keeps getting in the way of our fun.

He's always babbling something about 'copyright infringement' and

'profit'. Geez Chris, we say, what kind of girls do you think we are?

We only do this for fun. Goddess knows, we aren't making any money off

this...!

It was inevitable, I guess. From the time we saw how she looked at him

with those helpless doe eyes, we should have known that woman would be

nothing but trouble. Now, don't get me wrong. I was as in awe of her

as any of us, at first. I mean, I'm not dead, for God's sake. Who

wouldn't be a little struck by a woman of mystery with legs up to her

chin and an IQ to match?

 

It was like that for Byers, only times ten. I could see it in his

expression, the way his body language changed when she was around.

Everything was pointed toward magnetic north, and that direction

happened to be a woman named Susanne.

 

The first time I recognized that look in his blue eyes, I couldn't keep

myself from wincing. I mean, I've been there. Seeing that expression

brought it all back for me, and I'll admit it was a little painful. You

don't hang around for as long as I have without getting a few battle

scars. A few gaping wounds.

 

In Byers' feelings, I saw a trashed heart in progress, and for some

reason it was the last thing I wanted to happen. At the time, I

couldn't figure out quite why I cared, and it bugged me. What the hell

did it matter if this hopelessly idealistic government man got his heart

stomped on by one of Susanne's black suede pumps? It's part of the

human experience, right? Life. Besides, this was the same man that

almost got me killed. More than once in a fairly short period of time,

I might add.

 

But somehow, it mattered to me. I cared way too much, and the fact

bothered me. I didn't like feeling that way, about anyone, much less

some weedy man in an ugly bureaucratic uniform with overly stiff and

under thought-out philosophies.

 

So why did I, you ask? And how did I get myself roped into becoming

friend and sometime guardian to this child-man? I suppose I should say

that I don't know. It's none of your business, really. I need to tell

someone, though. I don't think I can deal with it, otherwise.

 

I admired him, okay?

 

Before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify things a little. I had no

admiration for Byers' simplistic acceptance of the values handed him by

the establishment. I'd been there once, right before I was handed a gun

and a uniform. Before Uncle Sam stuck me in a whispering, sticky hell

in the middle of nowhere. No. That's not what I admired.

 

It was his passion. Until I saw it in his eyes, staring back at

Susanne, I had forgotten how it had slipped away from me. I let life

hammer it away, said good-bye with little awareness and fewer regrets.

Byers, though, he wasn't about to go that route. He was going to fight,

you could see it in his eyes.

 

And fight he did.

 

It was kind of comical, really. He was so new to the whole idea of not

accepting absolutely everything the almighty US government said, that he

had absolutely no idea how to go against his 26 years of conforming to

Big Brother's rules. But now that Susanne had opened up that first tiny

hole in the dike holding back the flood, all the little Dutch boys in

the world wouldn't be able to prevent the chaos coming to wash away the

safe, comfortable life he'd always known.

 

Thank God he was smart enough to know his own limitations and start

small, or he'd have probably never survived the process. Or that final,

bloody blow that severed him completely from his sheltered life. But

I'm getting ahead of myself here.

 

I think Susanne was the Eve to Byers' Adam. She brought the apple from

the tree of knowledge of good and evil and her story was so good, so

compelling, that Byers willingly took that first bite. In spite of

everything that has happened since, I really don't think he ever regrets

that first act of rebellion.

 

Or at least, not for long.

 

Because the one thing John Fitzgerald Byers is incapable of is

self-deception. If he'd never met Susanne, Byers would never have

discovered the real world behind the facade Big Brother had put up. He'd

have lived his happy little middle-management bureaucratic existence,

content with life as he knew it. But they had met. And that honest

core in him will never let him ignore the injustices Susanne had

revealed.

 

In another age, a previous life, I think Byers would have been a Knight

of the Round Table. Being pure of heart, a quest for the Holy Grail

would have been right up his alley. In this life, his quest now is to

seek the truth behind the lies. To me, that truth looks more elusive

than the Holy Grail ever was. But that doesn't seem to discourage Byers

- he's definitely in it for the long haul.

 

It might not have turned out that way if Byers had never heard from

Susanne again after those 24 hours in Baltimore. But he did. About 3

months after that convention, she turned up on his doorstep. Literally.

 

Cold and shivering, a little thinner, a little paler, her hair a little

less glossy, Susanne Modeski knocked on Byers' front door the day after

Christmas. I guess he thought his Christmas wish had been granted after

all. He was so happy to see her, I doubt he even noticed the changes in

her. But I did.

 

I knew she could only mean heartache and trouble, but Byers is a softy

and couldn't just turn her away. And I guess I'm at least as bad,

because I couldn't look into those big blue eyes and say "No" either.

 

Langly and I left Byers' apartment shortly after Susanne arrived. We'd

been making plans for a hack into a corporation's system. The said

company had a government contract that we suspected might be for

research into the same type of nastiness that we had originally

uncovered thanks to Susanne.

 

Anyway, discussions of that company as a back door to get into the

project files had to wait with her arrival. Seeing her, the first thing

I guess both Langly and I thought after the shock of her being even

alive wore off was that she might be able to help us. Selfish, I know.

 

Byers, though, immediately fell into mother hen mode. He ushered

Susanne into his small living room and got her coffee.

 

"We're amazed to see you alive," I told her.

 

She smiled. The small, sad smile she had the last time we'd seen her

had been replaced by something a little wider, a little harder. Seeing

her expression, it was as if she'd finished mourning for the life that

the shadowy government forces had taken away and instead learned how to

be angry.

 

"I'm surprised to be here, too." When she said that, the first worm of

anxiety burrowed into the pit of my stomach. They'd taken her. What if

they'd turned her, and she was here to get information about us? I

tried to still my suspicion by telling myself that if the government

wanted to find us, it would be an easy matter. In their eyes, we were

trivial, and I was happy to keep it that way.

 

Still, the thought persisted. What if.

 

It was like Susanne, slumped into the wooden

rocker Byers had gotten from his mother, could read my mind. "Relax. I

was released. I have no idea why they didn't kill me, but it wasn't

because I decided to spy for them." Further probing was cut off by

Byers' return. He gave her a steaming mug and sat down next to her,

perching on his chair like he was frightened he might have to get up

suddenly. I suppose he was afraid she might leave again, be taken like

she was last time.

 

Susanne smiled at Byers and blinked into the living room, clearly trying

to keep her eyes open. I recognized our cue to leave.

 

"I think I'd better get home. Langly, you still going to show me that

new hardware you keep bragging about?" He was always going off on some

device or other. Langly was a bright boy; he didn't question which

particular one I was referring to. I think he recognized our cue to

leave as well as I did, because he only nodded.

 

Byers hardly seemed to notice our exit.

 

We gave them some time. The next day was spent minus Byers. Langly and

I did research on the business that we were interested in getting

information from. After about two hours at the library looking into the

government contract and board of directors, I checked into a hotel

room. Once in the room, I stripped off my jacket, jerked off the tie,

rolled up my sleeves. Langly took the scenic route to follow me.

 

"Well?" That's one thing I like about Langly. That was all I had to

say. Maybe it's just because we have overlapping area of expertise, but

few words are generally required when we're working together. We may be

years apart in age and life experience, and I may want to throttle him

when he plays that abrasive, electronic music he loves, but where

computers are concerned, we fit like hand in glove.

 

He drew the blinds, cutting us off from the sun and prying eyes. "I've

found a box. The guy on the repair line must be new, he believed me

right away. It's in a pretty secluded part of the neighborhood, so

we'll have plenty of warning if something goes wrong. Three exits to

the division, lower middle class so they won't notice a strange car

hanging around." He grinned with satisfaction.

 

"Good. If this is what we think, we'll need the time. You ready to

eyeball their system?"

 

"Sure." He set up his laptop. Since all we wanted to do was get a

general idea of what kind of systems they had in place, we only needed

to bounce ourselves around a few times. In and out.

 

"Frohike?" Langly stared at the small screen, not making eye contact

with me.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Byers has it bad, doesn't he?" The glare from the screen against his

glasses hid his expression. For the first time in our two-odd year

association, I realized how little I actually knew about this man's

personal life.

 

"Yeah," I said, "I think he does." I changed the subject. "Are you

almost done?"

 

"No sooner said. This doesn't look too bad, but I didn't go too far

in." Langly started disentangling himself from the intricate path of

computer servers he'd used to hide our location.

 

"Okay. We'll see tomorrow, I suppose. Can you think of anything we've

missed?" For some reason, this job was making me more nervous than

usual.

 

"Nah. Let's go get Byers. He's had enough R and R." Langly grinned and

pushed up his glasses. I couldn't help but smile in return in spite of

my apprehension.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

When we got back to Byers' place, they weren't there. Or they just

weren't answering the door. I got *really* nervous - I still didn't

know Byers all that well, but he didn't strike me as the kind of guy

who'd be doing the wild thing with a hot babe in the middle of the

afternoon when he knew his friends would be coming back. And besides,

if they'd wanted to do that, I figured they'd have done it last night -

Byers was, after all, pretty conventional.

 

Rather than make a fuss pounding on the door, I looked up and down the

hall: nobody but Langly and me. I fished my lock pick out of my jacket

pocket. Langly's eyes got really big, but he didn't say a word as I

quickly and quietly unlocked the door. All the hairs on the back of my

neck were telling me to be careful, so I entered the dim apartment

cautiously, wishing I still carried a gun. Langly nervously checked up

and down the hall one more time before he slipped in behind me and

locked the door.

 

Although the curtains were drawn, nothing seemed out of place in the

living room. It was just as neat and tidy as always; even the

bookshelves were arranged alphabetically. Without saying a word, I

gestured that Langly should check the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I

headed for the dark hallway leading to the bedroom.

 

Using the stealth training I'd put to good use in 'Nam, I slowly pushed

the door open as far as it would go. Here, too, the drapes were drawn

and the room was dark, so I switched on the light. Byers even kept his

bedroom neat as a pin; the bed was made and nothing was out of place.

Likewise for the bathroom. I'd never before met a guy living alone who

had a place that would easily win the Good Housekeeping Seal of

Approval. Weird.

 

Breathing a little easier, I met Langly back in the living room. He

shook his head to show his search had been negative as well. I was

stumped. No sign of a struggle, or even of a good time, but neither

Byers nor Susanne were here and he hadn't called to tell us what was

going on.

 

Just then, we heard voices out in the hall. There was no place to hide

in the living room, so we both headed for the kitchen. We heard keys

being dropped and laughter. Then the door was unlocked and opened. We

ducked all the way back around the corner as two shapes were silhouetted

against the light in the hallway before they entered and shut the door

behind them.

 

As someone turned on a light in the living room, I heard Byers say,

"I've got to call the guys."

 

Although I was relieved to find out it was Byers and Susanne who'd come

in, I was reluctant to step out and let them know we were already

there. I admit it: I felt guilty for letting us into his apartment, but

I still felt we were justified in being worried when he didn't answer

his door. So, I expected him to yell or at least to be upset enough to

throw us out. I certainly would have, if he'd done the same to me.

 

Instead, Byers said the absolutely last thing I expected to hear him

say, "Hey, guys, I'm glad you're here. Susanne and I just went to City

Hall; we got a marriage license so we can get married tomorrow. You'll

come, won't you?"

 

I think that I managed to pick my jaw up off the floor before he and

Susanne noticed, but I'm still not sure. My brain tripped over normally

easy thoughts. Christ, a wedding? Them? What in the hell were they

thinking?

 

It was pretty easy to figure out what the answer to that question was,

though, and it was what made me keep my mouth shut about the rest.

 

"That's wonderful, Byers. Susanne, congratulations! Of course we'll

come, won't we, Langly?" I shot him a pointed glance, and he grinned and

nodded excitedly.

 

"Congratulations, man. Way to go."

 

At that point, I noticed something that bothered me a great deal.

Susanne was holding Byers' hand tightly, and she was smiling. However,

the smile didn't quite reach past her lips. When Byers looked at her,

her expression softened a little, but never quite lost that guarded

look. It was painfully clear to me that she was trying, struggling

hard. It was as if she wanted to be with Byers, she wanted to be happy,

but something just wouldn't let her.

 

It was also around this time that I told myself that I was reading way

too damn much in the eyes of a person that was practically a stranger.

That was all.

 

Looking at Byers, I knew that if I could will it to be all, I would.

 

The skinny, reserved man hugged Langly and then me for an obscenely long

time. Then he reached over and grabbed Susanne. The two locked

together for several moments while Langly and I tried hard not to

stare. I don't know about him, but I was shocked. Who knew Byers had

that kind of display in him?

 

It was obvious at that point that business would have to wait. "Come

on, guys. This calls for a celebration. I'm taking you both out.

Langly, you're coming."

 

So, I took the three out. It wasn't a bachelor party, because leaving

Susanne alone would have been cruel as well as stupid. However, it was

as much of a celebration as I could make it. We ate dinner at a nice

but private Italian restaurant I'd been going to for a few years, then

to the rowdiest bar I could think of, just because.

 

I have to say that I knew Byers was really, really drunk when he was

dancing with Langly to some guitar-heavy song. Later, Langly told me it

was from 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'. Knowing him, it figures he

would request something like that from the DJ.

 

Susanne and I stayed behind in our secluded booth. If she was drunk at that point she could

really handle her booze.

She'd done a few shots of tequila with the rest of us,

and it had to have affected her skinny frame.

 

"Who knew Byers could bust a move?" I grinned at her. She smiled over

at the dance floor, where the other patrons had cleared a wide berth.

Even Langly, as wasted as he was, seemed a little afraid of his flying

arms.

 

"Why are you doing all this?" She stared at me.

 

I couldn't stop myself from stiffening. The truth was, I wasn't really

sure myself. I shrugged and looked over at her. "He deserves to be

happy."

 

Susanne winced. "I'll make him happy." I don't think she could help the

defensiveness in her voice. I stared at her for a long moment, then

glanced over at her soon-to-be husband, who showed no sign of losing

steam. If anything, the other dancers were giving him an even wider

berth.

 

I poured two more shots from the half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo on the

table, and slid one over to her along with a salt shaker. I waited

until we'd both finished. She gasped slightly as the alcohol went down her

throat. Finally, I asked what I'd sworn that I wouldn't.

 

"Will you really, Susanne? More to the point, will he make you happy?"

She froze at my words. Nothing was forthcoming from her to stop me, so

I plowed ahead. "Does Byers know what they did to you there? When you

were taken?"

 

Immediately, seeing her expression, I felt lower than the lowest form of

worm-like life crawling somewhere beneath a rock in a dark cave. The

day before what should have been the happiest day of her life, and what

did I do? I decided that she was too damn pleased with life.

 

I almost missed her whispered response. "No. And I don't want him to

know. Ever." She looked up from her empty shot glass, and her eyes were

crystal clear, as sober as a punch in the jaw. "Do you understand me?"

 

I only nodded and looked away. Luckily, it wasn't long before Langly

and Byers stumbled back to the table. We left shortly afterward.

 

By that time, I was the only one left who was semi-functional. Of

course, that meant I was designated driver, so the Frohike Taxi Service

headed back towards Byers' place. Langly rode shotgun up front with me

and the happy couple cuddled up in the back seat and promptly passed

out. Even asleep, I have to admit they made a good-looking couple.

Byers still had a big smile on his face.

 

It's a good thing my tolerance for booze is a lot higher than any of the

lightweights with me or none of us might have made the wedding ceremony

planned for the next day - no, for later that afternoon, by that time.

 

Pulling up in front of the building, I punched Langly lightly in the arm

to wake him up. No response. "Hey, Langly, wake up." I shook his

shoulder harder. Finally, a muffled grunt. "Come on, I need your help

getting the lovebirds upstairs." Still not fully aware, he managed to

follow my simple commands to get not only himself, but Byers too, out of

the car. Byers woke up enough to stand and even walk, as long as he

could lean heavily on Langly.

 

Susanne was my problem; she was out for the count. If Byers hadn't been

semi-aware, I might have just slung her over my shoulder in a fireman's

carry, but I just couldn't do to her that in front of him. So I

gathered her up in my arms, shut the car door with my hip, and led the

small, wobbly parade into the building.

 

Thank God the building had an elevator, because Susanne was getting

heavier by the second and I was starting to work up a sweat. When we

got to 3C, though, my blood ran cold: the door was slightly ajar. The

Langly/Byers combo didn't stop until they ran into my back. Before they

managed to formulate a question, I hissed, "Quiet. Here." And I handed

Susanne's limp body to them to support against the wall they were

already leaning on.

 

By now I was completely sober. Slipping again into stealth mode, I

cautiously pushed the door open. The room was pitch dark and silent.

After checking to make sure the non-functional trio was still supporting

the wall, I reached in and turned on the overhead light. "Whoa."

 

Byers had obviously had company while we were gone. And the company

didn't have much in the line of manners - they'd trashed the place

completely. What wasn't broken was upside down or covered with some

sort of yellow slime. Good-bye Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.

 

Backing up, I bumped into two wide-eyed drunks with their mouths hanging

open. "Come on, we gotta get out of here." I turned off the light and

shut the door firmly behind me.

 

Feeling the need for speed rather than chivalry, this time I did sling

Susanne over my shoulder as I made for the exit with Langly and Byers

stumbling closely behind. Retracing our steps, we hurried back to my

car and piled in. I pulled out with only a slight screech of tires.

 

Nothing suspicious in my rear-view mirror, but I took the scenic route.

Even without much traffic at that hour, I wanted to be absolutely sure

no one was following us, so the 15 minute drive to my place took well

over an hour. I even circled the block twice, but I didn't see anything

unusual, so I hit the button on the garage door opener, pulled inside,

and shut the door to hide us from any prying eyes.

 

"I don't think we were followed. Let's go upstairs."

 

Luckily, I have two bedrooms upstairs from my workshop, so I was able to

find a place for everybody to sleep. I carefully deposited Susanne on

the double bed of the larger room. Byers, following, kicked off his

shoes and approached the bed.

 

Before he crawled in beside his soon-to-be-wife, he regarded me

blearily. "Fro-hi-ke." Byers said haltingly, swaying slightly in his

trouser socks and suit.

 

The adrenaline rush from fleeing Byers' apartment had charged and then

drained me, but in spite of my need for sleep and/or coffee, I found

myself amused at the sight of the normally rigid Byers loosened.

 

"Yes, Byers?" I asked quietly.

 

"I wanta thank you, Frohike. Wait!" His blue eyes widened in comedic

surprise.

 

"What is it, Byers?" I decided it would be coffee instead of sleep. I

was the only one who was qualified to make sure this was going to be a

safe place to stay. I wondered when I had become the responsible one.

Suddenly, I felt very old.

 

"I-Wait. Um. Oh, yeah. What's your first name?" He smiled in perfect

happiness. God, he was drunk.

 

I pressed back my laughter. "Melvin."

 

"Mel-vin." Byers' forehead furrowed, and I knew beyond doubt that he

would not remember any of what he was saying.

 

"Uh-huh. You should get some sleep, Byers." I turned to leave, but was

stopped by a hand on my upper arm.

 

"I want to say thank you." His words were slurred slightly, but his eyes

were clear.

 

I was momentarily at a loss. "That's okay, Byers. No problem." Again I

turned to leave, and again I was restrained.

 

"No, it's not. You are a good friend, Frohike." Byers leaned forward

and gave me a hug. Unfortunately, his balance wasn't the greatest,

especially with the slippery dress socks he had on. One of his feet

slid on the wood floor, and he fell against me, momentarily pressing

himself full against me. Byers struggled to right himself, his head on

my shoulder and breath harsh on my neck as he pushed against me.

 

I was totally unprepared for my body's response to that accidental

contact. It was like taking an ice cube and throwing it into a pan full

of scorching butter. I could feel myself start to harden. Quickly, in

shock, I shoved Byers away, holding on to his upper arms to keep him

from falling over. "Go to bed, Byers." I hated the harshness in my

voice.

 

Byers nodded, not seeming to notice my tone or obvious arousal. He

slipped fully clothed into bed, his eyes shut before his head hit the

pillow.

 

I stayed up all night without the coffee.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

"Do you, John Fitzgerald Byers, take Susanne..."

 

I tuned out the Justice and watched the couple. Byers' eyes moved from

the man delivering the lines, none of which he would probably remember,

to lock with Susanne's.

 

The charge between them riveted me. Susanne looked completely happy,

radiant even in a simple white dress and heels. Where she had produced

it from, I had no idea. I guess it must be in the female handbook they

give girls in school, listed under the chapter on how to produce clothes

from nowhere while on the run. That one must be right after the 'how to

twist three men around your little finger' lesson.

 

"...To love, honor, and cherish..."

 

All of our eyes were on the bride and Susanne beamed at Byers. Whatever

was shadowing her, somehow she had managed to banish it for her wedding

day. I hoped, then and there, that Susanne and Byers would be able to

have a normal life, and that the darkness was behind them for good. The

knot in my stomach told me otherwise, but I willed my tired brain to

ignore it.

 

Langly coughed slightly. It was only when I realized that I had the

rings.

 

I handed over the two simple gold bands with a knot in my throat.

Finally, the short ceremony was over and the happy couple kissed. After

they signed the marriage certificate, we all headed back to my place for

a quiet celebration. After all the excitement last night, none of us was

in any shape for much more.

 

Money was more than a little tight for the newlyweds: Byers had finally

quit the FCC a few weeks ago and Susanne certainly didn't have any

money. So this morning, once a lot of aspirin and coffee helped clear

up the worst of the aftereffects of the night before, I'd convinced them

to take me up on my offer of hospitality. After all, Byers' place had

been trashed by persons unknown and I did have plenty of room. So I'd

moved my things to the spare bedroom and welcomed them to their new

home. For the time being, at least.

 

John and Susanne couldn't stop looking at each other while our little

group celebrated the wedding with a bottle of wine and three large

pizzas. I doubt they even heard me announce, "Come on, Langly, we've

got some work to do downstairs. See you two in the morning." We'd been

going over our schematics for our current project for a good hour before

we even heard two sets of footsteps slowly heading for my bedroom. I

tried not to think about why they'd been so quiet so long in the living

room; it was too distracting.

 

There was no escaping the fact that my workshop area was right below my

bedroom and we could hear a lot of what was going on over our heads. It

had never occurred to me to soundproof the building, since I was usually

the sole occupant. I decided I'd better rectify that little detail

really soon - preferably tomorrow - if the happy couple was going to

continue to stay here.

 

We heard giggles and outright laughter. We heard shoes drop, but only

three. I kept waiting for that last one to hit the floor, but it never

did. The box springs on my bed had a definite squeak I'd never

noticed. More thumps I can only assume came from the headboard hitting

the wall. And then it sounded like they were *really* getting down to

business.

 

I couldn't help it: I was getting very turned on picturing what was

going on in my bed and I wished I had video to go with the audio.

Realizing Langly had turned into a statue next to me, I glanced at him.

Conflicting, or maybe just consecutive, emotions crossed his face turned

towards the ceiling: curiosity, guilt, arousal, embarrassment...

Definitely embarrassment.

 

I should have known that with Langly's blond hair and fair skin, he'd

blush easily. Right now, he was blushing a very deep pink. His ears

were blushed almost purple. He was obviously *really* embarrassed and

me giving in to the temptation to laugh at the entire situation would

probably make it even worse, so I just shook my head without meeting his

eyes and said, "There goes the neighborhood. We might just as well give

up trying to work here. I hope your place is quieter."

 

For a second there, Langly looked startled - a lot like a deer caught in

headlights. But he recovered quickly as he realized escape from all

those noises and laughter was at hand. "Sure, it's a real quiet

neighborhood, except for the occasional shootings."

 

Shootings? Great. Of course, I knew the general area where Langly

lived: down near the University where all the other freaks and mutants

hung out. I'd just never actually been there before and I wouldn't have

chosen night for my first foray into that particular jungle. "You'll

have to give me directions once I get off the freeway."

 

Actually, not only had I not foreseen a nighttime trip to that

particular shabby district in my future, I'd certainly never imagined

myself becoming friends with a certain long-haired royal pain in the

ass. But look how things had changed in the three months since that

convention. Somehow, Langly and I had gone from techno-rivals constantly

harassing each other to associates - through necessity, mind you - to

almost friends. And now I was going to spend the night at his place

while another new friend and his brand new bride did things in my own

bedroom I hadn't done much of myself the last few years. Tonight was

certainly memorable in a number of ways.

 

Langly was quiet, staring out the window at the dirty snow along the

highway while I drove. When I took his exit, he stirred enough to give

brief directions, "left at the light," "right into the alley..."

Finally, we pulled into a short driveway behind a ramshackle garage that

seemed to be attached to a big old house. Langly dug in his pocket for

his keys, got out, and unlocked the garage door. He raised it easily,

motioned me to drive in, and closed it again behind me. The garage and

its door looked a lot more solid and secure from the inside than it had

from the outside. Camouflage, I supposed.

 

The 2-story house had seen better days, but it wasn't too bad.

Considering Langly had the same sort of electronic mess I had pretty

much all over my workshop and living area, who was I to complain? The

kitchen was too small to hold much other than the required dining

furniture, but the whole rest of the house had odds and ends

everywhere. I even found a motherboard from a computer in the bathroom.

 

Langly still seemed uncharacteristically quiet, so I thought I'd see if

I could find out why. I asked if he had any beer and, as a matter of

fact, he had a whole refrigerator full of it. And an unopened bag of

pretzels. Perfect.

 

So we had a few cold ones as we sat at his dining room table, munched on

pretzels, and talked. We started talking about the research we'd been

doing and put on hold once Susanne showed up. Then I maneuvered the

conversation to other topics.

 

I found out Langly had grown up in California - now why wasn't I

surprised? - and most of his family still lived out there. He'd

originally moved to Baltimore to learn more about electronics from an

uncle who used to have a little electronics store. Then the big chain

store moved into the neighborhood and forced him out. Uncle Bob gave

Langly all the inventory and moved to New York.

 

No family nearby. A geek from the word Go. Hmmm.

 

I mentioned I used to live with a woman, but she wanted more than I

could give her, so we drifted apart and finally split up. I asked

Langly about female companionship in his life.

 

No girlfriend. It's not that he was actually afraid of the fairer sex.

He said he'd done lots of stuff in mixed groups in high school, but he'd

never actually gone out on a date with someone. And females weren't

exactly raining down on him in the monastic lifestyle he currently led.

Even Dungeons and Dragons, the game he seemed to be a master of, was

male-dominated; female players were very few and very far between. And

none of them were currently living in the Baltimore area. But hearing

the sounds coming from my bedroom tonight seemed to have awakened a need

in him that he hadn't been aware of. I was curious to see where that

would lead.

 

Finally, Langly seemed all talked out. He gave me his bedroom and said

he'd use the couch in the living room where he usually fell asleep

watching TV. I wasn't surprised to see posters for obscure rock bands

all over the walls and ceiling in his room; I felt like I was having a

flashback to the 70's after I'd come back from a tour in 'Nam. I was

pleasantly surprised to find his bed comfortable and the pillows weren't

even lumpy.

 

Considering all the talking we'd done, I was astonished I fell asleep as

fast as I did. Usually I get a little wound up and it takes a while to

settle down. But it had been a busy couple of days with very little

sleep and a fair amount of drinking, so I zonked out quickly.

 

I can sleep almost anywhere, under any conditions, but never for very

long. I always feel the need to wake up and check on my surroundings.

Paranoia, thy name is Frohike. But that annoying little habit had saved

my life a time or two, so I wasn't ever going to try to change it.

 

When the dim light of dawn reached the bedroom window a few hours later,

I was awake. Hearing Langly moving around out in the living room, I

decided I might as well get up, too. I got dressed and joined him in

front of the three TV sets in the crowded room. I hoped he wasn't using

his own rather combustible black boxes to get the cable feeds for them

in this firetrap of his.

 

His long hair was a little more straggly, but he had on a different

black T-shirt for another band I'd never heard of. "You hungry?"

 

I stretched a little. "Yeah. And I could really use some coffee."

 

"I don't cook much. I usually eat at the diner down the street. We can

just walk there and get something."

 

So, we put on our jackets and headed down the street to the diner around

the corner. Unfortunately, the area didn't look any better in the gray

light of a cloudy morning than it had in the dark the previous night. I

was surprised to see a fair number of people were out and about on foot,

but then I realized few probably had regular jobs and even fewer

probably had cars. The good news is that I wasn't the oldest guy on the

block, like I thought I'd be. The bad news is that I was pretty much

the cleanest.

 

Mickey's Diner was old, but reasonably clean. Rather than get into any

of the discussion topics from last night, Langly and I talked some about

the area and its residents while we ate. The food was okay, but I will

admit the coffee was really good. Four cups later, I was ready to face

the day.

 

We'd only been back from the diner a few minutes when Byers called. I

gathered he'd been trying to get us for almost an hour, but, hey, we'd

taken our time with breakfast. Who expected newlyweds to be out of bed

before noon on the day after their wedding, anyway? Not only were they

up, but they had something they wanted to share with us right away, so

we put our jackets back on and I drove us back to my place.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

It turned out that Susanne had information for us.

 

She sat beside Byers and played absently with the fabric of his trousers

as it loosened near his knee. For once, he was actually wearing casual

docker-type pants. For our uptight Byers, I mused, this was practically

walking around naked.

 

Susanne said, staring at the motion of her long, slim fingers, "I didn't

tell anyone this before because I didn't think it would make any

difference, but there were a few things I remember in the time I was,"

she swallowed, "gone, that I think are relevant to the plans you three

have."

 

Shock made me freeze, suspend all superfluous motion. I couldn't

believe it. She still hadn't told him. God, how I had been hoping she

was only drunk that night. Byers thought that she couldn't remember

what happened, and Susanne would let details slip to him as it was

convenient for her. I shook myself from those dark thoughts as Susanne

spoke, still avoiding all eye contact.

 

"I was kept in a kind of lab, I guess. I only remember that I heard the

name of the company, Triparamin, whose computer network you've been

trying to access. There were two men who talked about extending their

tests to a place called George Washington Carver," Susanne's eyes moved

up, finally, to meet with mine. "Elementary School."

 

Langly stared at Susanne, at Byers, and finally at me, his eyes wide

with shock. The silence that met her words was finally broken again by

her.

 

"There was something in the way they were talking that led me to believe

that they were planning more than one test. That the experimentation

would be extensive." She broke my gaze as Byers took her hand and

squeezed it gently in reassurance.

 

She continued, "I want a copy of the files you retrieve. The men that

were talking mentioned things that I remember but still can't make sense

of." Her voice was cool and certain, and I think that I was the only one

in the room who knew how hard that must have been for her. "I think that

if I can see the data, I can decipher a code they mentioned. It should

list what the testing timetable will be."

 

I knew better almost immediately, and the fact that I sat there, saying

nothing, is something that will probably haunt me for the rest of my

life. I knew what it was Susanne really wanted. She wanted revenge for

the time they had kept her. I didn't know what it was that 'they' had

done to her, but I knew that whatever it had been, Susanne remembered it

very clearly, indeed.

 

Her voice flat and expressionless, she said, "The file or directory

should be listed under the name Red Horse."

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

So, we implemented our plan, and it worked like a fifty in the palm of a

two bit whore. In the middle of the day, we "borrowed" a phone line.

 

The two of us cracked Triparamin's system with only the most basic

social engineering, provided earlier in the day by Byers. It turned out

that with his bureaucratic background, he was very slick when he wanted

to be. In minutes, he knew the names of all the upper-level system

administrators in the company. Getting the relevant vital stats from

personnel and the DMV was easy enough.

 

Human nature hasn't let me down much in my life, and it didn't that day,

either, although I wish now that it had. Some idiot had used his middle

name as a backdoor into the system and we slipped in.

 

Langly said, hunched over the computer, "Okay, she said Red Horse,

right?"

 

"Yeah." I stood and looked out at the street. The empty rental house we

were using was on the corner of the street, so if we needed to leave

suddenly, we had a few avenues.

 

"Okay...Shit, Frohike, there are..." Langly swore under his breath as he

chewed on the corner of his mouth. "This file is huge. How long do we

have?"

 

I shrugged. "You tell me. How careful were you?"

 

"Not an hour fucking careful." He stared at me in consternation. "How

good is our escape route?"

 

I remembered the look of raw pain on Susanne's face at the bar before

her wedding and rubbed one hand over my face. "Good enough. Do it."

 

While Langly monitored the data dump, I monitored the neighborhood

activity outside, moving from room to room, window to window. I really

was surprised that nothing suspicious happened to make us cut and run

before we got all the Red Horse files. Looking back, I guess that right

there should have made me suspicious. Hindsight is so much easier,

after all.

 

It really was almost an hour before Langly and I packed up our toys and

left our suburban Home for a Day. Still no suspicious activity around

us; no parked trucks or vans on the streets we passed.

 

After dropping Langly and the equipment off at my car, I returned the

van to the rental agency and caught a bus downtown. Several transfers

and two taxi rides later, I was sure no one had followed me. I hoped

Langly was half as good at spotting tails as he seemed to think he was

or all my efforts would be for nothing.

 

Langly picked me up at our pre-arranged spot and drove to the motel

where I'd made reservations under the name of Tim Leary. Our room faced

the park, not the road, so we drove to the back parking lot and took in

our special 'luggage,' planning on spending the night, but not planning

on getting much sleep.

 

We'd only brought in a simple computer setup to help with the data:

computer, monitor, dot-matrix printer, and a box of paper. Langly and I

worked well together: we had the files decoded and almost all printed

out by the time Byers and Susanne arrived.

 

Barely acknowledging our presence, Susanne dove into the piles of folded

printouts, quickly scanning each page before unfolding the next and

repeating the process. It was obvious she'd forgotten we were even

there. Langly was frankly staring with his mouth open and Byers had

this little wrinkle etched between his eyebrows that I didn't like.

 

Deciding they needed distraction, I gave each of us a pile of printouts

Susanne had already discarded so we could analyze what we'd 'found.' I

mean, even if it wasn't what Susanne was looking for, and I still wasn't

so sure I really wanted to find out for sure what that was, we still had

a whole shitload of highly classified information from a DOD

contractor. Even before Susanne showed up three days ago, we knew

Triparamin was dirty and we'd wanted to get the specifics, so here was

our chance.

 

By the time the sun came up, Susanne was sound asleep on one of the

double beds, surrounded by printouts. The rest of us were sprawled

around the room, also surrounded by reams of paper. And a lot of

questions. But no answers. At least, not yet.

 

Since checkout time wasn't until 11 am, we decided a few hours of sleep

were in order. After stacking all the printouts back in the box and

stowing all the equipment in their luggage carrying cases, Byers joined

his bride on the one bed and Langly and I shared the other double.

 

Maybe the ventilation in the room was bad. I guess I wasn't really

surprised to wake up a few hours later with a blond head nestled into my

shoulder and a skinny arm across my chest. And a morning erection

pressed into my hip. 'Shit.' I sighed and elbowed Langly none too

gently in the stomach to get him off me. As he rolled back to his side

of the bed, I could see the newlyweds in the next bed had made their way

under the covers and were making like spoons.

 

Must have been all the pheromones in the air, but my hormones were

definitely starting to raise their ugly little heads. As was something

else, but this was not the time nor the place for such things. Much as

I hated to disturb this bizarre little tableau, I got everybody up and

out and to the coffeeshop across the street by 10:30.

 

Over food and a couple of pots of coffee, we all finally woke up. After

discussing our lack of results using generalities and vague references

to 'the customer' and 'the goods,' we decided we needed more

information. Susanne sat quietly, seemingly greatly disappointed at our

lack of success.

 

When we split up to prepare for another hack, Susanne suggested she take

the printouts back to my place and go over them again. She was positive

the information was in there somewhere; she just had to find it. Since

she didn't have the know-how to help us with the other things that

needed doing, we all agreed, even Byers. No one noticed that Susanne

didn't kiss Byers good-bye like a new bride would; it wasn't until later

that I realized she'd kissed him as if she knew she'd never see him

again.

 

&&&&&&&&&&

 

If it had been up to me, I would have been happy to just walk away from

those files at that point. Red Horse, Red Hair, Scarlet Left Testicle;

whatever they were called, those files were something I was steadily

wishing we could just forget about. I was all for fighting injustice,

and I probably wanted to get the information as much if not more than

any of the others. There was something, though, about the whole

situation that was making me vaguely uneasy in a way that I did not like

one bit. I hadn't itched with this particular feeling in close to

twenty years.

 

I didn't walk away, though. Every time the thought crossed my mind, I

would see the expression on Byers' face again. That small line etched

between his eyebrows reminded me. This might be something I could just

walk away from, but for Susanne and those children it was deadly

serious.

 

Langly, Byers and I went to location number two, another in Langly's

seemingly endless supply of empty rental units. This time it was an

apartment, a third floor walk-up. There was a second staircase, but I

didn't harbor any illusions that would help us much if we were

discovered.

 

"I hope Susanne is okay." Byers huffed slightly as we reached the third

floor. Thankfully, it was getting darker so we weren't quite as exposed

to view. Not that the residents in that particular neighborhood were

likely to call the cops. We probably could have staged a full-scale gun

battle without notice there. It explained, I thought, why Langly had

dug it up for our riskiest hack. In spite of myself, I guess I was

starting to respect the little hippie.

 

Langly produced a set of keys and let us into the apartment. I remember

it was number 308. The interior was all musty smells, dark water spots

and small scurrying creatures. Langly strode over to the far windows,

shut the blinds, and flicked on the lights. I started hooking up the

equipment, and Langly joined me. I glanced back as we were doing this;

Byers was still standing in the archway between the kitchen and the

living room. He was gaping in the general direction of a small hole in

the wall.

 

"I guess you don't get out slumming much, do you Byers?" I said. Langly

grinned appreciatively. I think that by that time we knew Byers came

from some kind of money. It just seemed to explain everything about

him.

 

Byers blinked and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"I thought I saw something move." He sounded defensive.

 

I suppressed my laughter. "Why don't you run to the store and get us all

something to eat, Byers? It'll take us a few minutes to set all this

up." To his credit, he did, leaving without comment.

 

Langly and I were twice as careful this time, but Byers still wasn't

back by the time we had once again accessed the Red Horse files. I was

starting to question the wisdom of sending him out into the neighborhood

when it happened: the files started to delete themselves.

 

"Oh my god, Frohike, what's happening?" I stared at him. Langly was

asking me? It was my first indication that something was, indeed,

seriously wrong. I peered over his shoulder at the monitor. Langly was

typing furiously and cursing under his breath. Directories were

disappearing before our eyes.

 

"Red Horse is being deleted."

 

It would have to be then that Byers showed up, right? Later, I wished

that I sent him somewhere else. Anywhere else, as long as it meant that

he wasn't around to see what happened next.

 

Langly continued as Byers gingerly set a paper sack down on the filthy

carpet.

 

"There's a new one." He stared at the screen, and breathed, "Oh no." He

twisted his head up to look at Byers. I suppressed my sudden icy terror

and took over trying to get into the new file.

 

It was labeled "s_modeski". It was too late, though. We had been

kicked out of the system.

 

We didn't even bother to log out before racing after Byers toward the

car. He wasn't a tall man, but he was already in the car and screeching

tires out of the parking lot when we got to the bottom landing. I think

that if we hadn't run in front of the car that he would have been gone.

 

What was normally a half-hour drive became a white-knuckled, fifteen

minute terror ride. Watching Byers screech through lights and

residential areas, narrowly avoid hitting pedestrians and ignoring all

attempts at conversation was a revelation. Not that there were that

many attempts made to talk to the man, really. Langly and I were too

busy hanging on for dear life.

 

Byers slammed the car to a halt at a crazed diagonal and did a dead run

to my front door. I followed as quickly as I could, knowing that he

would need my keys to get into the front door. It turned out that I was

wrong, though. Byers didn't need my key.

 

The door had been kicked in.

 

Byers and I paused in shock. The thick wood door hung at a crazy angle,

supported only by the bottom hinge. The inside of my building wasn't

much better, from what we could see. My workshop had been demolished.

Electronic equipment had been smashed and strewn everywhere. Tools,

papers, a smashed-in monitor all littered the floor.

 

After only a second, Byers rushed in, oblivious to the possible danger.

"Susanne? Susanne? Honey?" He rushed up the stairs, ignoring anything

but finding his wife. "Susanne?" He ran to the bedroom with me hard on

his heels. He froze in the doorway, and I slammed into him. I drew

back, mumbling an apology.

 

Byers didn't answer, though. Something seemed to have left his body, a

tension that was holding him together, keeping him from losing it in the

face of emergency. He sagged against the doorframe.

 

Finally, I saw what was in the room.

 

Susanne had been home, after all. Her thin frame was slumped on the

bed, and the covers were stained red with her blood.

 

Byers didn't scream, he didn't yell at me to call for an ambulance. I

think that even he knew from the extent of her injuries that she was

dead. Helplessly, he move to hold her in his arms, crooning her name.

His eyes slipped closed as if he were bargaining with the gods to bring

her back. I watched, helpless to do or say anything.

 

Langly, with characteristic good timing, chose that moment to show up.

Still standing only two steps into the master bedroom, I turned to him.

"Don't touch anything. Leave the house and call the police from a pay

phone. Wipe your prints. Don't go home. I'll meet you at your

brother's house when it's safe." Langly nodded, his eyes wide and

frightened behind his thick black frames. He did as I said. It could

have been minutes, it could have been seconds later that I heard a door

slam shut downstairs. I was still standing in the bedroom, trying to

hold it together.

 

Finally, I found the strength. I managed to pry Byers from Susanne and

lead him downstairs. Even then, I think the only reason I was able to

get him down the staircase was that he was too tired to fight me. I

placed Byers down in the workshop and, bracing myself, went back

upstairs. I wasn't sure why I did this. Truthfully, I don't think I

really had a logical reason. Once I was there, though, I saw something

that I had missed the first time: two envelopes.

 

They had been knocked off the dresser and kicked half-underneath it by

whoever had been there, probably the same person who had killed Susanne.

That was probably the only reason they had been missed. Slowly, I

stooped and collected them up off the floor. In Susanne's elegant

writing, one was labeled, "John", and the other, "Melvin and Ringo". I

tucked them into my inside jacket pocket and went back downstairs to

rejoin Byers just as the sirens arrived.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

The two of us sat amidst the broken wreckage of my workshop while the

law enforcement crew did their thing all over my building. Forensics

dusted for fingerprints and took pictures of the wreckage. The medical

examiner headed upstairs and I tried not to think about what he was

doing. The uniforms spread out to canvass the neighborhood.

 

Two detectives tried to talk to Byers, but it was obvious he wasn't

going to be much help. Byers was obviously in shock. His trenchcoat

and suit were soaked with big splotches of Susanne's blood from when

he'd held her in his arms and I was covered in a variety of second­hand

splotches from pulling him away from her lifeless body. The detectives

took my statement and I promised to bring Byers to the station house in

the morning, after he became more coherent.

 

During all this, Byers rocked on his chair, mumbling to himself.

Occasionally I heard him say, "I can't believe this is happening...." I

couldn't help but agree with him there. 'Merry Fucking Christmas and

Happy Fucking New Year, kid!'

 

Big surprise: the detectives reported that the money drawer was missing

from my storefront. I never kept much cash in there, because I had a

wall safe built into the concrete block wall along one side of the

workshop. Scratches and dents on the safe suggested the thieves had

gotten really frustrated at their lack of financial gain and took it out

on all the breakable objects around them, and one of them happened to be

Susanne. Considering how much some of the equipment that they'd trashed

was worth, I thought that was pretty stupid on their part, but I didn't

say so to the police.

 

The timing of Susanne's murder was just too perfect to be a result of

some random burglary. Langly, Byers, and I saw the Red Horse files -

including the one with her name on it - deleted before our very eyes.

But we couldn't tell the police that. I mean, after all, we were

committing a major felony at the time, so we couldn't exactly use that

as proof that her murder was the intended crime and the botched burglary

was just a cover-up. So I just kept my mouth shut.

 

Byers froze in place when they brought Susanne's body down in a black

body bag. Putting my arm around his shoulders, I could feel him

trembling deep inside. I thought he was going to lose it, but, somehow,

he didn't. When he heard the M.E.'s van door slide shut, his eyes

closed and he slumped against me.

 

Thank God the detectives were sympathetic and let me get him out of

there, finally. I bundled him into my car and headed out towards the

motels near the airport. Picking up a bottle of J&B first, I checked us

into a Budgetel.

 

Byers' teeth were chattering, so I cranked up the heat. Once it started

to feel like a sauna, I turned the shower on, nice and hot, and turned

the bathroom into a steam room, hoping to get him warm in a hurry.

Already sweating, I peeled off my bloody clothes. Then I stripped the

clothes stiff with Susanne's dried blood from Byers and guided him into

the hot shower.

 

He didn't resist me, but he didn't help either. If I hadn't been

supporting him, I think he would have just slid down to the tile floor

and stayed there. Instead, Byers sobbed on my shoulder, the shower

washing his tears away. I don't know how long we stood there, together

under the hot spray. Byers' sobs slowed and his teeth finally stopped

chattering, though, so I turned off the water and dried us both off.

 

At least we had some fairly clean clothes to put on - I always keep a

bag packed in the trunk of my car. Of course, nothing I own is really

up to Byers' usual fashion standards. Couple that with the fact that

I'm a few inches shorter and a few pounds heavier and nothing of mine is

ever going to fit him, either. So I dressed him in my sweatpants and a

T-shirt before tucking him into bed.

 

I poured three fingers of J & B in one of the motel's plastic glasses

and made Byers drink it. At least that got a reaction from him: his

already red eyes watered some more as he coughed and handed the glass

back to me. He looked me in the eye and said, "You really are a good

friend, Melvin. Thank you." With that, he laid back, closed his eyes,

and pulled the covers up to his chin.

 

I poured myself a stiff drink, turned out the light, and sat in a chair

to wait for morning.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&

 

Morning came, for Byers, with brutal quickness. I sat in the chair with

the company of a few more fingers of J&B. I guess I had fallen asleep,

because the next thing I knew, I was jerked awake. Byers was writhing

underneath the covers in bed. He tossed, flailing against some unseen

enemy. This continued for several minutes with me watching, uncertain

what to do.

 

Finally, I couldn't bear that pitiful whimpering anymore and climbed

into bed. I sat beside Byers, and when he continued to flail, I pulled

him tightly against me. His head on my chest, he continued to thrash

against me for long moments as I shushed and clucked at him. Finally,

Byers fell back into a dreamless sleep, one arm thrown across my chest.

Even though I was miserably uncomfortable, I didn't move until I saw the

first rays of the sun work their way through the hotel room drapes.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

The morning after Susanne was murdered, Byers and I checked out of the

motel and went to meet Langly. I'd told him to go to "his brother's,"

which was actually a code for a hacker friend that we had in common.

 

On the ride over, and for days afterward, Byers was silent. If asked a

direct question, he would respond, but otherwise it was like living with

an empty shell. He would attend to what was going on with the same

solemn gaze as normal, but the spark of intelligence and caring in his

eyes had died.

 

Langly met us in the parking lot of the apartment complex where he'd

been staying. Our friend was much too paranoid to let someone he didn't

know come up and there was no way in hell I was leaving Byers alone,

even for a minute. Even if Byers was indifferent to his own welfare, I

wasn't. I guess the truth is that I was a little afraid he would just

wander off, never to be seen or heard from again.

 

The three of us went to a diner on the far side of town.

 

"We need to relocate." Langly's voice was matter of fact. I don't think

that the apocalypse would phase that boy. Seeing fire fall from the

sky, he'd probably just gaze upward calmly and pull out a steel

umbrella.

 

Byers looked on indifferently, then stared out the window.

 

"Relocate? To where?" I'd traveled and even fought in Vietnam, but I'd

lived in Baltimore my whole life, so I guess I was a little alarmed.

 

"Washington. It makes sense. Think about it: all the movers and

shakers live in DC." The blonde man stared at Byers. I think that the

wax version of Byers, however understandable, was creeping Langly out as

well. "The people that took Susanne were in a sedan with Maryland

plates."

 

There was a long silence. Byers finally pulled his eyes from the

parking lot and said dully, "It won't bring her back." He stared at the

labeling on a packet of creamer with swimming eyes.

 

"No, it won't, Byers. Nothing will. The question is, what are you

going to do now?" Langly sipped his coke and watched Byers for reaction,

as did I.

 

Finally, Byers blinked and said, "When do we leave?"

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

On the way out of town, I met Byers at Susanne's freshly-turned grave.

The sky was becoming heavy in preparation for a storm as I pulled into

the cemetery parking lot. The first thing I noticed on Susanne's grave

were the blossoms. They littered the area in an obscene riot of color;

every imaginable type was represented. All I could think, looking at

them, was what a waste it was. The rain was going to ruin the flowers.

 

Byers shoes sunk into the edge of the brown earth pile. Without making

eye contact, he explained, "I didn't know what kind was her favorite."

 

I nodded and stared at Susanne's headstone with him. 'Susanne

Modeski-Byers. Beloved, we lost you far too soon.' In spite of myself,

I could feel the tears come. Byers regarded me, his head cocked and an

unreadable expression in his eye. He took one last, long look at the grave and turned away.

 

"Come on, let's get going."

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

-END (for now)

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