It was a bleary-eyed barkeep that showed up at the breakfast table the next morning.  Gary sat next to Jean, picking over his food in a desultory manner.  Hailey sat directly across from him.  It was impossible for her not to notice his red-rimmed eyes, or the dark smudges beneath them.  A feeling of guilt swept over her as she realized that she was most likely the cause of his present state.  She glanced over at Bill, catching him staring back at her.  He nodded his head in Gary’s direction, then shook it in a warning to leave the other man alone.  Frustrated, the reporter lowered her gaze to her plate and stabbed her fork into her omelet.

The main topic of conversation that morning was the still absent ‘senior class.’  Raphael had reported in that morning by radio.  The lame horse was doing well and should be ready to travel in a couple of days.  Meanwhile, they were having a wonderful time fishing and swimming in the tiny grotto they had found.

Gary listened without comment, excusing himself after only a few token bites.  As soon as he had disappeared from the dining room, the conversation shifted.

“He looks like death warmed over,” Doug sighed.  “Didn’t he get any sleep last night, Bill?”

“I don’t think so,” Bill replied dejectedly.  “He had a really bad one last night.   From the sound of it, Savalas isn’t the only ghost haunting him.  No, Hailey, I’m not going into detail.  Most of it was just disjointed ramblings, anyway.”

Andrew looked over at Monica, concern written plainly on his face.  “I was just thinking,” he told her in a near whisper.  “The nightmares started that first night, after I showed him ‘The Wall.’  Could that have anything to do with it?”

“You mean his fear of heights?” Monica murmured.  “It’s possible.  Nightmares are often triggered by stress.  If that’s the case, the simplest solution would be to excuse him from having to climb.”

The blonde counselor shook his head.  “I can’t do that,” he sighed.  “Strict ‘orders’ to help him learn to deal with it.  We’ll just have to keep a closer eye on him.”

“That may be hard to do,” Monica responded sadly.  “There’s the other one we’re here to help, as well.  I still don’t know what we’re watching for.”

“We’ll know when the time comes,” Andrew assured her.  “Til then, just keep the faith.”

*****************

Gary spent most of the morning trying to avoid everyone else.  True, he had promised Andrew that he would talk over his dreams with the group that night, but he hoped to postpone it for as long as possible.  He asked the stable hand to help him saddle Sunshine,  his docile mount.  He then went for a long, long ride.  Gary knew that he should be in the gym, climbing that blasted rope, but he felt the need for fresh air and privacy.  Mostly privacy.

The young barkeep let his horse choose her path for a while, meandering back and forth among the forest trails.  Eventually, they ended up on a bluff overlooking a spectacular view.  They paused there, horse and rider, staring out at the western horizon, each thinking their own thoughts.

‘It’s not fair,’ Gary mused silently.  ‘Why does every misstep, every mistake, have to keep coming back to haunt me?  Please, God!  Let me have just a little peace?’

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Thought West Coast prices were a buck fifty,” Gary replied without turning.

“Gimme a break,” Bill chuckled.  “I’m barely getting by on a scholarship.”

“Oh, well,” Gary shrugged.  “Just wishing things were . . . different.  That, just once, I could catch a break.  Preferably one that didn’t involve a bone.”

Bill let his bay gelding saunter up next to Gary’s mare.  “Ouch,” he murmured sympathetically.  “That’s right, I remember you saying you broke that leg, too. Bummer.”

Gary shrugged, never taking his eyes from the incredible vista before him.  “S’okay,” he replied.  “Never felt a thing after the first few minutes.  Except in that dream.  Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah,” the younger man sighed.  “Andrew and Monica are calling a special session for this morning.  They feel like that one last night was . . . well . . .”

“Hmm,” was Gary’s only comment.  With a sigh, he turned Sunshine back the way they had come.  For several minutes the two rode in silence.  “You should know,” he finally said, “I asked Andrew if they had someplace else I could sleep.”

Bill shot him a startled look.  “Why?  Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Gary was quick to assure him.  “That’s not it.  I just thought that . . .well . . . you need your sleep, too.  I mean . . . no sense in both of us losing out.”

“Ah, that’s no big deal,” Bill shrugged dismissively.  “I’m majoring in anthropology.  I’m used to pulling marathon all-nighters,” he explained.  “You’re only costing me a coupla hours a night.”

********************

Bill and Gary entered the clearing to see a strange car in the driveway.  Jean was sitting beside it, talking to a young man with sun bleached hair.  The young man looked bored, kicking at the gravel drive with one sandaled foot.  Jean, on the other hand, was talking animatedly, her face glowing with pleasure.

“Who’s that?” Gary asked curiously.

Bill looked over at the young couple with a grimace.  “That’s Jean’s boyfriend,” he muttered dismally.  “Darren Hollister.  A real winner.”

It was hard to miss the sarcasm in the younger man’s voice.  “You don’t sound too thrilled with this guy,” Gary mused.

“He treats her like dirt,” Bill snorted. “Has her practically at his beck and call every time he shows up.  You’d think he was the one in a wheelchair instead of her.  I wish he’d leave her alone.  She deserves better.”

Something in the younger man’s voice caught Gary’s attention.  He looked over at Bill with wry amusement, watching him watching Jean.

“How old are you, Bill?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?  Nineteen,” the student replied in a puzzled tone.  “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” Gary responded casually, fighting to hide a tiny grin.  “Nothing at all.”

*************************

As they gathered in the dining room once more, Gary felt as if every eye in the place were on him.  Which was probably true.  Even Tess had pulled up a chair.

“So, um, h-how should we start?” Gary asked nervously.  “Sh-should I just . . . tell you what happened or is it gonna be, like, you ask and I answer?”

“Why don’t you start with when you first knew Savalas was in your apartment?” Hailey asked in a surprisingly gentle tone.

Gary eyed the reporter warily.  “This is all off the record?” he asked hesitantly.  “I’m serious, Hailey.  I can’t go through that again.”

“Andrew explained what you went through before,” she told him.  “For that, I’m sorry.  This time, I promise, nothing goes to print without your direct approval.”

“Th-that’s the best I can ask for, I guess,” he murmured.  Hesitantly, at first, Gary began to describe how the fugitive had surprised him while he was in the tub.  As the others listened without comment, he told of his feelings of shame and helplessness in finding himself sprawled utterly defenseless and exposed before his enemy.  Of being forced to crawl on his belly like a crippled animal as Savalas watched in amusement.  He described the beatings, the way the cuff bit into the flesh of his wrist until he could no longer feel his hand.  He admitted to being angry at the callousness of his captor, at his cruelty and the way he took so much pleasure in watching Gary’s pain and discomfort.  He went on to tell them of getting the upper hand, if only briefly.  Told his listeners of a sense of relief mixed with the pain of returning circulation in his injured hand.  His voice cracked as he related his struggle to get back in his chair, only to find that his injured wrist would not support his weight.

“Th-then . . . he was on me again,” Gary sighed.  “It’d gotten quiet, but I was so busy trying to get in that damned chair, I didn’t notice . . . until he slammed that gun against my head.  After that, things got a little . . . ugly.  He put that . . . cuff back on my wrist, so tight I thought I was gonna pass out.  Then he hit it with the gun and kicked me in the gut hard enough that I, um, I wished I’d skipped supper.  He cleaned up th-the mess, then started telling me all the things h-he wanted to do to me.  Got one of my knives from the kitchen a-and started tracing out p-places he planned to, um, to work on.”  Gary stared down at his hands as he recalled the look of insane glee in the fugitive’s eyes.  The right one worried at the leather band as if it detected an itch that refused to be scratched.  “I sorta told him to go to hell and he, um, he dropped the knife to beat the crap out of me.  I palmed the . . . the knife.”

The others remained silent as they sensed he was coming to the conclusion of his tale.

“I, um, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he went on.  “I’m not really sure I was thinking at all.  A-anyway, I . . . I sorta . . . laughed in his face.”

“You what?” Eleanor exclaimed.

“I laughed at him,” Gary shrugged helplessly.  “H-he was being so . . . so melodramatic.  Like a villain in one of those really old B-movies.  Made him so mad at me, he dropped his guard, and I stabbed the knife into h-his gun-hand.  He drop . . . dropped it and I tried to keep it out of his reach.  I even yanked o-on that damned cuff hard enough to hit him w-with the wheelchair.  B-but that only made him fall on top of me a-and I only h-had one hand to . . . to hold onto that . . . then it w-went off and I felt th-this pain in my sh-shoulder.”  He swallowed convulsively as all the pain and horror of that night flooded his memory.  “I knew . . . knew that I was losing, that he was going to . . . to kill me.  But I couldn’t let go of that . . . damned . . . gun!   Th-then . . . my hand . . . slipped.”

Tears flowed unrestrained down his cheeks as he once more saw the shocked look in Savalas’ eyes.  Saw the trickle of blood drooling from the corner of his mouth.

“I d-didn’t mean to k-kill him,” he murmured in a choked voice.  “I just . . . just wanted to . . . to stop him.”  He paused a moment, taking a deep shuddering breath, to get his voice, and his emotions, under better control.  “His . . . his body sorta . . . shuddered . . . and he got this look in his eyes.  L-like he wasn’t seeing me anymore.  Th-then this little drop o-of . . .”  He traced a line from the left corner of his mouth.  “I, ahm, I could feel this sticky . . . wet . . . I could feel it spreading across m-my chest.  He, um, he started to say something, then he just . . . l-like the air going out of a balloon, he went . . . limp.  I started screaming, then.  But I guess no one heard us over the music a-and all the noise downstairs.  D-downstairs,” he gulped.  “H-help was so close, all I had to do was g-get to that damned . . . phone!”

Gary buried his face in his hands, unable to look at the circle of silent faces.  Too choked up to even try to speak, he fought not to break down and sob openly.  That would be too much.

“I c-could f-feel his heart . . . beating against m-mine.  Could feel . . . feel it getting faster and f-faster.  Then it sorta . . . s-stuttered.  F-finally he, um, gave this r-rattling . . . sigh.  And he . . . he was . . . gone.”  Gary paused to wipe the tears from his face before finishing.  “I don’t remember much after that.  Just . . . just praying.  For what, I don’t know.  The, um, the next clear memory I have is waking up in the h-hospital . . . again.  And them telling me that . . . that it’d be weeks, maybe, before I’d have full use of my hands . . . again.  Th-that I’d have to have help j-just to feed myself . . . again.  Somehow, it seemed . . . as bad . . . as humiliating as that felt, it seemed . . . right.  I didn’t deserve any l-less for . . . for what I’d . . . I’d done.”

“Just what had you done?” Doug asked softly.  “Other than defending yourself?  There’s not a single one of us here who would’ve done any different.  Did he really leave you any other choice?”

“I’ll never know, now,” Gary sighed brokenly.  “I can’t go back and do it over.  Even if I could, I still can’t think of anything I could’ve done differently.”  He paused, staring down at his hands which now lay upon his knees, the fingers opening and closing as if of their own accord.  “Th-the worst . . . I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t get to m-my hands . . . t-to wash the blood off.”

“But surely they . . . oh.”  Jean sat back, tears springing to her eyes, as she suddenly understood what he was saying.

Hailey cleared her throat, and every eye shifted to her.  Every eye but Gary’s.  He was still so lost in his misery, he had not even heard her.

“S-so, “ she began hesitantly, well aware that she would be crucified if she caused this gentle, soft-spoken man any further grief.  “So why don’t you want to tell any of this to the press?” the reporter asked.  “Are you afraid they’ll twist it around, make you the villain?”

Slowly, without looking up, Gary nodded his head.  “Th-that’s part of it,” he sighed.  “I’ve . . . I’ve been accused of things before, and I’ve learned the hard way th-that it’s not easy to change public opinion.  P-people that’ve known me s-since I was a baby still think I had something to do with that ‘murder-for-hire’ scheme of Savalas’.  I c-couldn’t even stay at my parents’ house f-for Christmas.  F-friends and n-neighbors kept whispering things when they thought I couldn’t hear, or calling to tell the police what a t-terrible reputation I had, or of some God-awful thing I was supposed to’ve done that day.  It got to . . . to the point that we . . . we couldn’t even sit down to a meal without the phone ringing fifty times to report me for one thing or another, and I-I hadn’t left the house in days!  S-so, um, I went back to . . . to Chicago, and tried to sleep in m-my loft.”

Gary rubbed the back of his head, a rueful half-smile playing across his tired features.  “Th-that wasn’t . . . the nightmares started the minute my head hit the pillow,” he sighed.  “So, um, I tried to find a hotel room.  Finally found one, only to have some wino spill his bottle all over me on my way to get my stuff out of the van.  Th-then I got mugged.”

Hesitantly, Gary told of waking up in a cell, head splitting, sick to his stomach, and totally disoriented.  He went on to describe the state he was in when someone finally realized that he had been injured, and the humiliation of knowing he’d been found that way by someone he cared about.

“T-turns out this little . . . out of the way station . . . they still had a flyer on me f-from when I was . . . on the run,” he told them.  “A-at first they just thought I was some drunk.  Wh-when they found out . . . found out who I was, they contacted the man listed as heading up the task force.  He sent the other . . . other cop who’d been there that night to ‘bail’ me out.  I sorta remember hearing her voice coming down the . . . But I must’ve blacked out again before they reached me.  Anyway, things kinda went downhill from there.”

“My God!” Bill exclaimed quietly.  “You were already lower than the floor of the ocean!  How much worse could it get?”

“A lot worse,” Gary sighed.  “And there aren’t enough threats or promises in the world to drag the rest of it out of me. A-anyway, that’s why I want all this to just . . . go away.  Let it die a natural death.  If I try to give my side, all it’ll do is stir up interest that I’d rather avoid.  I don’t want people staring a-and pointing as I go down the street.  I don’t need whispered comments and accusations following me everywhere I go.  I just . . . just want to live whatever kind of life I can the best that I can.  Is that too much to ask?”  This last was directed at Hailey, who, at least, had the good grace to look chastened.

“No,” she replied quietly.  “It’s not.  Please forgive me, Gary.  I’d forgotten just how single-minded my kind can be in pursuit of a story.  We lose track, sometimes, of the lives we affect with ill-chosen words or phrases.  If you don’t want this to go to print, then it’s a dead issue. I promise.”

Gary closed his eyes briefly, then flashed her a shy smile.  “Thank you.”

“So, how have you been handling it?” Doug asked.  “You mentioned nightmares.”

“That was a given,” Gary sighed.  “That, the flashbacks and all the other ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’ goodies.  I went through the whole shtick.  Really wallowed in self-pity for a while.  Almost drowning, and my Dad getting pneumonia saving me, didn’t help.”

He quickly told them, in as few words as possible, about the disastrous outing that had almost ended in a triple tragedy.  The others tried to press him for details, but he dug in his heels on that one.  How could he admit that he had been stupid enough to ‘dive in’ after that kid with both arms incapacitated?  He did admit that he went even deeper into a black depression.

“What brought you out of it?” Eleanor asked.  “Did they give you therapy in the hospital?”

“N-not exactly.”  Gary had to fight back a grin at the memory.  “They sicced Polly on me.  She’s, um, she’s one of the x-ray techs at Cook County.  And she’s . . . a little different.  Her southern accent puts your’s to shame, Tess.  After the drowning incident, I’d completely given up.  Then she comes bursting into my room and . . .”  A slow flush crawled up his face, belying his crooked grin.  “Let’s just say that Polly is seldom at a loss for words.  She made me face what everyone else had already been telling me, that Savalas’ death was an accident.  Then, um, sh-she told me it was time to . . . to ‘give up the throne,’ is the way she put it.”

“The throne?” Bill asked.  “What did that mean?”

Then a red-faced Gary had to explain about her referring to him as ‘King of the Pity-Pot,’ and exactly what that meant.  “So, um, the next time you want to bring somebody out of a funk,” he told his giggling and guffawing audience, “try that one on them.”

“That is nicest way I’ve ever heard of tellin’ someone they’re full of horse hockey,” Doug laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.  “Lord, I need to meet this woman!”  He sat back in his chair, trying to get serious again as he looked at Gary.  “So, are you okay, now?  You have Hailey’s word that none of this goes to print in any fashion, and our word that it never leaves this room.  Is that enough?”

Gary looked around at the ring of expectant faces, Bill and Jean still fighting back a case of the giggles.  He decided that he could trust these people who shared a predicament similar to his own.  “I think so,” he nodded.  “Now, if Andrew would let me off the hook on this rock climbing deal, I could really relax.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Andrew smiled.  “You will climb that wall before you leave here.”

“Killjoy,” Gary mumbled good-naturedly.  “You better give Bill some earplugs, then.  ‘Cause if I stop talking in my sleep, I’m liable to start snoring.  And I’m talking serious noise pollution here!”

This brought another round of good-natured ribbing, which ended as Bill complained of having ‘worked up an appetite.’

“Good!” Tess slapped her thigh as she stood up.  “Now that the ‘Inquisition’ is over, who’s in the mood for hot apple pie?”

There was a chorus of ‘Me!’ as everyone spun their chairs and made a beeline for the dining room door.  Everyone but Gary.  As the room cleared, he moved over to the window where he sat staring out at the tree-lined enclosure.

“It’s fresh and hot from the oven, Gary,” Tess said from behind him.

Gary turned just enough to flash her a sad, tight-lipped smile.  “Confession may be good for the soul,” he murmured, “but it’s hell on the stomach.  I’m just not hungry, Tess.  Save me a piece for later?”

“If I can snag a piece from that pack of piranhas,” she promised.  “You gonna just sit in here by yourself, sugar?”

“No,” Gary sighed.  “I was hoping to slip out for another ride while Andrew was busy with that pie,” he admitted.  “It’s just too pretty of a day to be cooped up indoors.  And I really don’t want to climb that rope right now.”

Tess gave him a motherly pat on the shoulder as she turned to leave.  “I’ll talk him into giving you the day off,” she promised.  “And I’ll put your pie in the warmer.”

“Thanks, Tess,” the young barkeep grinned.  He gave her a jaunty wave as he headed out the front door.  As he made his way to the stables, he saw a green Ford sedan coming up the drive.  The car stopped directly in front of the administration building and only a few feet from Gary.  The driver turned out to be a middle-aged man with an athletic build and dark blonde hair lightly streaked with gray.  His passenger was a petit, slender woman with dark auburn hair.  Gary immediately noticed how much she looked like the youngest member of their group.

“Excuse me,” the man said as he approached Gary.  “Can you tell me where we might find our daughter, Jean Phillips?”

“Sure,” Gary replied.  He pointed back the way he had come.  “She’s in the dining room with the others.  If you hurry, there might still be some pie left.”  He stuck out his hand.  “I’m Gary Hobson, by the way.”

The older man took his hand in a firm grasp.  “Harold Phillips,” he said by way of introduction.  “My wife, Jeannette.  You weren’t here when we brought Jeannie up week before last, were you?”

Gary shook his head with a rueful smile.  “Just got here a few days ago,” he told them.  “Now I’m having to make up for lost time.”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “You’d better hurry or there won’t be any pie left.  Tell Tess she can split that piece she was saving for me.  It’s apple, by the way.  And Tess makes killer pies.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Jeannette Phillips smiled.  “Thank you, Mr. Hobson.”

“Call me Gary,” he replied as the couple went toward the dining room.  Feeling better than he had in days, he continued on his way to the stables.  It really was a beautiful day.

***************

Hailey was almost finished with her pie when Jean’s parents walked in.  They made straight for their daughter, coming up behind her and surprising her with a ‘group hug.’  The reporter smiled as the young girl’s face split into a delighted grin.  The couple then greeted the others briefly, saying that they had already met the ‘newcomer,’ Mr. Hobson, before retreating to the other side of the room to talk in private.

At the mention of Gary’s name, Hailey remembered the tape recorder she had hidden in his room a couple of days before.  It was still there!  How could she have forgotten?  Oh, God!  What if he found it?  Looking around, she noticed that everyone else was engrossed in discussing the sad, but incredible tale that Gary had related to them.  As quietly as she could, Hailey left the table and headed for the door.

She had to retrieve that recorder before Gary found it!

****************

Sunshine nuzzled Gary’s chest as she was led up to the ramp.  “Hey, girl,” he murmured, giving her nose a brisk rub.  “Ready for another ride?”  The palomino gently bumped her head against his chest, as if in agreement.  “Good girl,” Gary laughed.  He let the groom get her into position as he ascended to the platform.  In just a little over a minute, he was secure in the saddle and ready to go.  But where did he want to go?  As he tried to decide, Gary let Sunshine wander through the heart of the main compound.

As they passed through the center of the camp, Gary noticed that the door to his and Bill’s cabin was open.  It had been closed when he left the dining room.  Puzzled, he let Sunshine sidle up towards the cabin.  Through the open window, he saw Hailey rummaging around in his night table.  A chill sweat broke out along Gary’s spine as he wondered what in the world she could be looking for.

Picking up on her rider’s sudden feelings of distress, Sunshine began to prance nervously.  Gary gripped the reins tighter, holding her in place with little effort.  He could think of only one reason for the reporter to be going through his things, and he didn’t like it one bit.

**************

Hailey finally found the tiny tape recorder where it had slid to the back of the drawer.  Retrieving the incriminating device, she tucked it inside her shirt, and then gently pushed the drawer closed.  With a sigh of relief, she turned and headed for the door.  The moment she got back to her cabin, she would destroy the tape without listening to it.  She had given Gary her word and, against all her journalistic instincts, she intended to keep it.  If even half of what he had told them was true, the man had already been through more heartbreak than most people endured in a lifetime!  No way was she going to be the one to . . .

She froze, chair sitting half in and half out of the door.  Gary sat atop the nervous palomino, staring down at her with a stricken expression.

“I-it’s not what you think,” she stammered.  “Gary, I . . .”

“You what?” Gary asked, his voice so tight it cracked.  “What did you hide in my room, Hailey?  What did you just take out?” he hissed.  He stared accusingly down at the rectangular bulge in her shirt pocket.  “I trusted you!”  With, for him, unusual roughness, he jerked on the reins and slapped Sunshine on the rump, sending the skittish palomino leaping ahead into a full gallop!

“Gary!  Wait!” Hailey shouted desperately.  “It’s not what you think!”  It was no use.  Gary was already out of sight.  Oh, God!  What had she done?  Frantically, she propelled herself toward the main building.  Andrew.  She had to tell Andrew what had happened!  He was the only one who could possibly reach Gary in time to stop him from doing something stupid.

In her haste and despair, Hailey failed to notice a distraught Jean, who was leaving the main building by the side door, headed for the stables.

******************

Gary had no idea how long or how far he had ridden before a low limb almost swept him from the saddle.  He couldn’t even recall choosing a direction.  Reining the sweat soaked mare in with more care than when he had prodded her earlier, Gary looked around to get his bearings.  He had absolutely no idea where he was.  Nothing looked familiar, yet it all looked the same.

‘Damn her!’ he thought angrily. ‘Damn her!’  She had sat there, looked him straight in the eye and promised him that she was going to drop the story!  She had looked right at him and lied!  And he had believed her!  When was he going to learn?  No way would he ever trust another reporter!  No way!   Even Meredith had lied when it suited her.  All the while saying how much she cared for him.  Evidently it was a job requirement.  Maybe it was part of the curriculum.  ‘How To Lie With A Straight Face.’

Gary let out a long, shuddering sigh as he forced himself to calm down.  Looking down, he saw Sunshine’s tracks leading out from the camp.  All he had to do was follow them back.  No problem.  Right.  No problem.  Then he had to confront Hailey and get that tape.  ‘Piece of cake,’ he thought bitterly.

Letting the nervous mare choose her own pace, Gary turned her back around the way they had come.  In a few places, the ground was too hard to hold tracks.  Usually, he had no trouble picking up the trail again.  However, he finally came where he was unable to find a clear track.

For what must have been the better part of an hour, Gary circled the clearing, looking for some clue as to which direction they may have come.  But either the ground was too hard, or he was the world’s worst tracker.

“Mrrowwr!”

Gary looked down to see a familiar orange feline.  “You and I need to have a talk, one of these days,” he murmured under his breath.  A little louder, he added, “You here to guide me home, fella?”

The cat gave a rumbling purr as it rubbed its back against a tree.

“Good,” Gary sighed.  “Cause I am totally lost!  Lead on MacCat!”

The cat took off through the dense undergrowth, moving just fast enough to keep ahead of the horse, and always picking the easiest path for the larger animal to follow.  As soon as they were back on a clear trail, the cat disappeared.

“I really wish he’d stop doing that,” Gary grumbled, rubbing Sunshine’s neck.  “You won’t run off and leave me, will you girl?”  As if in answer, the palomino shook her head.  “That’s my girl,” Gary laughed.

Gradually, they worked their way through the lengthening shadows to a wide, rock strewn clearing which overlooked another bluff.  The mountain seemed to have many such scenic places.  He paused there a moment to admire the view, as well as to let his hurt and anger subside.

Sunshine whickered as she sensed the presence of another horse.  She was answered by a soft whinny off to his left.  Looking around, Gary was surprised to see Jean sitting astride her pinto, Cochise, apparently lost in thought.  As he slowly sauntered up, she wiped her face with a sleeve.  She was crying!

“Jean?” he called softly.  “Are you okay?”  He moved Sunshine up beside the smaller animal until the two horses could almost touch noses.  “What are you doing out here so late?” he asked, noticing for the first time just how close the sun was to the horizon.  “What am I doing out here so late?”

Jean gave a short laugh that ended in a sniff at his startled expression.  She then turned back to face the drop-off with a shuddering sigh.  She still hadn’t said a word.

“Ah,” Gary sighed.  “I see.  Boyfriend trouble.”

The teenager shot him a startled look.  “How’d you know?”

“You’re fifteen,” he shrugged.  “At that age, I had my heart broken twice a week.  Was that why your mom was looking so . . . well, nervous?”

Jean nodded slowly.  “Darren, that’s his name, h-he told all his friends y-yesterday that he had this ‘rich mark’ lined up.  That they’d be ‘tying the knot’ next week!”  She turned a tear-streaked face on Gary.  “I’m not rich,” she told him.  “And he n-never said a word of this to me wh-when he was h-here this morning!”

“That’s because he’s a two-timing jerk,” Gary stated flatly, “who’s not worth the effort to spit in his eye.  He was using you to feed his ego.  To make him look good in front of decent people.  ‘Look at him.  Isn’t he so sweet to stick by that poor girl?’” he added bitterly.  “It makes him look like a saint, and makes you look . . . needy.  You’ve got way too much going for you to settle on a creep like that, Jean.  There are guys out there that would take this Darren bozo apart if he so much as brought a tear to those pretty eyes.  And not out of pity, either.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of the girl’s mouth as she gave Gary a sideways look.

“Ho-oh, no you don’t!” Gary laughed. “You’re talkin’ to the ‘Heart-Broke Kid,’ remember?  I’ve been this route too many times to let a-a pretty smile and a few tears send me over the top!  Save that look for some poor sap who isn’t old enough to be your father!”

This brought a real smile and a soft laugh from the teary-eyed girl.  “You’re not that old, Gary,” she teased, wiping her face on her sleeve once more.  She maneuvered Cochise close enough so that she could lean over and give Gary a chaste kiss on the cheek.  He leaned in to make it a little easier for her.  “And you’re very sweet.  Thank you.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I came out here.  I was just so . . . so hurt and angry.  I-I wanted to die, it hurt so bad.  When Mom showed me a picture of . . . of Darren with this . . . this blonde hussy, I couldn’t believe it, at first.  I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I didn’t want to believe it about my ex-wife and my ex-boss, either,” Gary agreed with a slow nod.  “Something like that . . . you can either let it eat away at you, like I did for awhile, or you can let it go.  And, believe you me, letting go is hard.  B-but you’re strong, Jean.  A lot stronger than most people would think, just looking at you.  Guys like Darren . . . all they see is the chair.  They don’t see the steel it takes to ride it.  And they don’t look for all the other qualities that make you ten times more human than he’ll ever be.  You’ve got strength, compassion, heart . . . Don’t give this jerk a second thought.  He’s not . . .”  The words caught in his throat, and he looked away as a bitter flood of memories washed over him.

“Worth it?” Jean finished for him gently.  “You’ve been told that before, haven’t you?”

“O-once or twice,” he murmured, looking away.  “Especially since . . .”  He absently rubbed his right leg.  “There’s this lady back home.  I thought . . . maybe . . . maybe we had something.  But she blows hot and cold so fast, I feel like I’m in a tornado half the time.  She made it pretty clear at our last . . . encounter . . . that she only saw me as a . . . a warm body.  People need more than that to make it work.  I need more than that.  Don’t sell yourself short, Jean.  And don’t settle for what someone like Darren is willing to give you.  Promise me that.”

“I promise,” Jean smiled.  She turned her horse away from the bluff.  “Suddenly, I’m hungry.  Don’t you think we should be heading back?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Gary smiled ruefully.   “I, um, I hate to admit it, but . . . I’m sorta . . . lost.”

“Don’t worry,” the young girl laughed.  “I’ll get you . . .”

Her sentence went unfinished as a rattling ‘whirrrr’ startled her mount, causing him to rear and buck.  Alarmed, Sunshine also reared, tossing an unprepared Gary to the rocky ground.  The breath was knocked out of him as he hit the hard-packed dirt. Almost simultaneously, he heard, more than felt, something impact against his right thigh just as a bright flash of pain shot through his head.  As the lights went out, Gary was almost sure he heard a shrill cry fading in the distance.

*****************

It was night once more and Gary was listening to the howling of the wind blowing in off the lake.  If he concentrated, he could hear the whisper of voices.  Soft voices, reproachful voices.  They called his name, asking ‘why?’

“Why not me?” they asked.  “Wasn’t I worthy?  Was I too evil?  Were you too scared?”

Faceless figures lined his path, pointing accusing fingers at him as he passed.  Dark figures that whispered reproving phrases of guilt, promising retribution.  They formed a gauntlet leading to the huge carousel.  Slowly, Gary walked the narrow corridor, trying to avoid the grasping hands that plucked at his clothing.  As with the Ferris wheel in his last dream, the closer he got, the louder and stronger the wind blew.  By the time he reached the brightly lighted conveyance, the wind and the voices had begun to merge into murmuring confusion.

The brightly painted animals snarled, smiled, or simply bared their teeth, eyes wide open in various attitudes of fear or surprise.  As Gary stepped up on the circular platform, the device started with a lurch that would have thrown him to his knees if he had not grabbed the reins of a black stallion.  He hung on for dear life as the carousel began to spin faster and faster.

“Why?” the voices cried.  At first, he could almost make out the differences between one voice and another.  Could separate Savalas from Hernandez.  Scanlon from Romick.  Brigatti’s voice stood out among them all.  ‘Not worth it!  Not that big of a catch!   Such a jerk!”

As the enormous ride picked up speed, the wind became louder and faster too.  The voices blurred until they blended with the howl of the wind.  To Gary’s surprise, the wheel began to shrink.  Not in height, but in diameter.  The spaces between the figures narrowed until they almost touched.  Then the inner ring of animals disappeared.  Still the wind grew louder and more shrill.  Gary mounted the ebony figure, hanging on to the pole that thrust upwards from its spine in an effort to keep from being blown away.

“Help me,” a tiny voice cried.  “Please, Gary!  Help me!”

Gary looked around frantically for the owner of that voice.  He knew that voice!

“Help me! Please, help me!”

There!  Hanging onto the neck of the swan!  The little girl!  The one from the Ferris wheel!  What was she doing here?  The child was losing her grip, in danger of being blown away!

“I’m coming,” he called out to her.  “Hang on!  Please!  J-just hang on!”  Could she even hear him over the shrieking of the wind?

He eased out of his secure seat on the horse, meaning to work his way over to the frightened child.  No sooner had his feet hit the boards than the merry-go-round gave another lurch, spinning faster than ever.  Gary could no longer tell the difference between the shrieking of the gale force wind and the screeching voices.  All he could focus on was that lone voice, calling his name in desperation. Frantically, he lurched from horse, to tiger, to lion, trying to reach the frightened child.  “Please, God,” he prayed.  “Let me reach her in time.  Please!”

Just a few more feet.  Two more painted figures between him and his goal.  “I’m begging you, God,” he implored.  “Don’t let her die!”  He rounded the last form, a golden palomino, to see that the child was no longer a child.  It was Jean!  The petite redhead was dangling from the neck of the swan, feet and legs hanging over the edge of the platform, face twisted in fear.

“I’m coming!” Gary screamed over the incessant shriek of the tempestuous winds.  He started to repeat his call when he felt the wooden statue move under his hands.  Startled, Gary grabbed onto the reins, as the shrill cry of the palomino rose in pitch until it rivaled the cacophony of the wind.  The golden figure rose higher and higher, knocking Gary to the hardwood boards.  It rose until it towered over him, then brought flashing hooves down straight for his unprotected head.

*******************

The golden mare brought her hooves down once more on the reptile which was coiled less than a foot from Gary’s head.  Dazed, he hung on to the reins as she pranced nervously around her bloody handiwork.  Looking around, Gary tried to spy the other horse.  Had he bolted?  Did he carry Jean back towards the camp?  Or had she been thrown, too?

“Gary!  Help me!”

“Answers that question,” Gary mumbled.  Laboriously, he rolled onto his stomach and began the arduous trek to the edge of the bluff.  Jean sounded as if she were just below the lip of the drop-off.  His shoulders felt sore from his impact with the hard-packed dirt, and his head felt as if it were about to come off.  Still, he crawled forward, clawing his way, inch by agonizing inch, over the rocky ground towards his goal.  “J-Jeannie?” he called as he neared the bluff.  “Answer me, Jean!  Please, answer me!”

“Down here!” she called back.  “Thank, God!  I thought you were dead!”

Gary looked over the edge, immediately wishing he hadn’t.  The moment of vertigo, combined with the throbbing pain in his head, almost sent him reeling back into the darkness once more.  Blinking both into abeyance, he tried again.  He saw Jean hanging on to a tree growing almost straight out from the side of the cliff.  It looked to be firmly rooted.  Still, she couldn’t hang there forever.  About fifteen feet separated her from his position at the top.

“Let me see what I’ve got to work with,” he told her.  “Don’t go away.”

“Ha ha,” she replied sarcastically. “You are so funny!”

With a wan smile, Gary pushed himself back from the edge.  What did he have to work with?  He looked over at the palomino who was now placidly munching on a few scattered blades of grass.  A coil of rope was standard equipment, it seemed.  Did he have enough to reach her?  He inched his way over and grasped the reins once more, using them to slap Sunshine on her left shoulder, as Andrew had shown him.  The docile mare obediently knelt until he could slide onto her back.  Once she was upright again, he eased her closer to the cliff, stopping when he figured they were close enough.  He shook out the rope, securing one end to the saddle horn.  The other end he fashioned into a loop large enough for Jean to slip over her shoulders.  This he tossed over the edge about where he thought the girl should be.

“Jean,” he called out.  “Can you see the rope?”

“Yes,” was her immediate reply.  “It’s too short!  Can you lower it another . . . five feet?”

“Not and be able to tie it off,” was his discouraging reply.  Five feet.  How could he get her another five feet?  The only answer he could come up with sent a chill up his spine.  But he had no other choice, and she was running out of time.  He rapidly hauled the rope back up, slipping the noose over his own shoulders, securing it around his chest.  Giving the signal to kneel once more, he slid from the mare’s back the moment he could safely reach the ground.

Was it his nerves making it so hard to breathe, or had he pulled the rope too tight?  Never mind, he had to get moving. He slowly lowered himself over the edge, careful not to look down.  If he froze, they were both dead.  Gingerly, Gary eased himself down the rope until he reached the end.

“Can you reach my legs?” he asked her, keeping his eyes glued to the cliff face.

“If you stretch out your hand,” she said from just a few feet to his right, “you can pull me up.”

Moving carefully, Gary glanced over to see that he was less than two feet from where Jean had pulled herself into a seated position on the branch.  Between that, and the extra length gained by having Sunshine in a ‘seated’ position, they had gained enough that his body more than filled the gap.  Gingerly, he reached out his hand to her.  Moving with a grace as much inborn as from training, Jean grasped his hand and swung out in one fluid motion. A moment later, she clasped her free arm around his waist, clinging tightly as the sudden motion set them to swinging like a pendulum. They hung there like that until the swaying motion decreased enough for Gary to be able to open his eyes.

“This is not good,” he commented as a wave of dizziness swept over him.  His breath was coming in short gasps now, and he was perspiring heavily.  With grim determination, he grasped the rope and began hauling his double burden toward the top.  It hadn’t seemed this hard in the gym!  Halfway up, he had to pause, wrapping the rope around his right arm to keep from slipping.  His limbs were trembling from the effort he had expended thus far, and his head was swimming alarmingly.

“C-can you make it th-the rest of the way?” he asked the girl.

Jean eyed the five or six feet that remained.  “No sweat,” she told him.  “Why?  Are you . . . Oh my God, Gary!  You’re bleeding!  Why didn’t you say something?”

“Wh-what good would that’ve done?” he gasped.  “Just climb, would you please?  My arms are really getting tired.  Th-then you can get on S-Sunshine and h-haul me up.”

Without another word, the young gymnast scampered up the rope, quickly disappearing over the top.  A few minutes later, the rope lurched upward a few feet, and then Gary felt himself slowly rising.  He felt every bump, jar, and sway of the rope as it bit into his wrist.  Keeping his eyes closed helped a little, but not much.  By the time he reached the top his breathing had become labored, and his gorge was on the rise.  It took all his strength to pull himself the rest of the way over to safety.

Gary lay there, every muscle trembling with weakness.  His head felt as if it were getting ready to burst from the pain.  Fighting nausea and fatigue, he crawled forward a little more, and for some strange reason, his vision kept blurring.

The moment Gary was on safe ground, Jean signaled Sunshine to kneel.  Quickly, she slid down next to her injured companion.  He seemed barely conscious. He was pale, sweaty, and was obviously having difficulty breathing.  That could be attributed to his problem with heights.  ‘A panic reaction?’ she thought.  ‘Or maybe it’s from the head injury?’

“What were you thinking?” she asked tearfully.  “You had no business coming after me in the shape you’re in!  You should’ve left me there and gone for help!”

“C-couldn’t,” he murmured, his speech slurring.  “Lost, re-remember?  Don’ f-feel s’hot.  Head h-hurts.”

“I don’t wonder,” Jean murmured.  She gently probed the bloody lump on the back of his head, eliciting a painful grunt from her new friend.  “That was a hell of a blow you took.”

“Watch your language,” he grumbled good-naturedly.  “You’re too young to cuss.”

“In whose book?” she chuckled.  Recalling her first-aid, even if it was a little late for some of it, she continued to check for injuries.  His neck was most likely undamaged.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to make that climb.  Ditto for his arms.  Despite his difficulty breathing, there didn’t seem to be any tenderness, or rigidity, in the ribs or abdomen.  Relieved, she continued down to his legs, not really expecting to find anything.  The best she could determine, his left leg seemed to be intact.  Perhaps the head injury was the extent of his difficulties.

Then she found the dark stain surrounding twin punctures in the material covering his right thigh.  Quickly pulling out a pocket knife, she slit the tough denim to get a better look.  Sure enough, she spotted two small punctures surrounded by a large bruise midway between thigh and knee.  Blood oozed freely from the tiny wounds, indicating that a vein had been hit.  Not good.

“Gary, I have to go for help,” she told the injured man.  “The rope is still around your chest, so I’m going to use it to pull you back from the cliff.  Then I have to leave you.  It’ll be dark before we get back, so please try not to move.  Promise me.”

“P-promise,” he murmured drowsily.  “B-be careful.  Dark s-soon.”

“Try to stay awake, Gary,” Jean urged him, as she remounted.  As soon as Sunshine was on her feet, Jean shortened the rope and snugged it around the saddle horn.  Urging the docile mount forward, she slowly dragged Gary back until he was almost to the forest edge.  There, she dropped the rope and turned the mare’s nose for home, urging her into a brisk canter.  She had less than an hour before it would be too dark to find her way back.

*******************

At first, Gary fought to stay awake, but the struggle proved too great.  As the sun slipped closer to the horizon, the injured man slipped deeper into a darkness of a different sort.

Was it his imagination, or did he hear a soft chuckle somewhere in the darkness?

*******************

He was back on the merry-go-round, spinning madly out of control.  Both arms were clamped tightly about the neck of the same swan the child had been clutching before.  Now, the child, Jean, was nowhere in sight.  Where had she gone?  Was she safe?  Then he remembered.  She had gone for help.  Help.  Yes, he definitely needed help.  The fierce wind had become hot, scorching.  It was so hot!  It threatened to sear the flesh from his bones.

The carousel continued to shrink in upon itself.  The inner rings were all gone now, with only the outer ring remaining.  Frightened, Gary had no idea which way to turn.  If he moved inward, he might disappear along with the wooden figures.  If he stayed where he was, he could suffer the same fate.  Outward?  What was beyond the edge of the spinning platform?  Cautiously, he peered beyond the swirling mists and gale force winds.  What he saw frightened him even more.

Another carousel spun counterpoint to the one he was on.  Clinging to a golden steed was the desperate form of Jean Phillips.  The young gymnast was crouched low, clinging to her mount with a strength born of sheer panic.  Both devices were flying through the air at an incredible speed and altitude.  As frightened as he was of  heights, Gary still looked for some way to reach the other carousel.  ‘There has to be something, anything, I can do to help her!’ he prayed.  He couldn’t let her face this alone!

‘Let go,’ a voice whispered in his mind.  ‘Let go of your fear.’

“How?” Gary pleaded. “How do I do that?”

‘Have faith in me,’ the voice murmured.  ‘I can keep you safe.’

“What about her?” Gary asked, his eyes once more catching sight of the auburn-haired figure.  “Can you save her, too?”

‘A choice must be made.’

“Wh-what does that mean?  What kind of choice?”  Gary asked.  “Tell me!”

‘A choice must be made,’ the voice repeated.

“What kind of choice?” Gary shouted.  “What are my choices?  Tell me!  Is it ‘live or die?’  Or my life for hers?”  No answer.  “Is that it?  My life for hers?”

‘A choice must be made!’

A feeling of calm acceptance settled over Gary as he released his hold on the wooden figure.  He thought that he understood, now.  He stepped back until his feet balanced on the edge of the platform, one hand still holding one of the supports.

“Then save her,” he said grimly.  And let himself fall.

He had come full circle.  Everything had begun with him riding a whirling vortex into oblivion.  Once again he was clutched in the strong grip of the maelstrom, spinning deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness.  Images flashed before him.  Images from his fevered dreams, as well as harsh reality.  Poignant scenes with his family and friends.  Frightening views of death, mixed with feelings of extreme pain and frustration.  Everything that he had seen, thought, or felt in the last seven months, whether good, bad or indifferent, flooded into his mind, threatening to overwhelm him.  Overlaying it all was the enigmatic face of a certain orange feline.

Finally, his mind could take no more as his consciousness rode the maelstrom into darkness.  As his mind slipped into the abyss, he could hear a bitter howl of frustration.  Someone was not pleased with his choice.

******************

“Wake up, Gary,” a familiar voice gently urged.  “No time to lie there like a log.  C’mon, fella.  Open those eyes.”

Slowly, painfully, Gary opened his eyes to see a figure dressed entirely in white kneeling next to him.  The figure was bathed in a soft glow that settled as a halo about his head and shoulders.

“A-Andrew?” Gary murmured softly, pushing himself into a sitting position.  Dazed, confused, he looked around at the soft glowing mists that surrounded them.  “Wh-where . . .”

“This place exists only in your mind,” the counselor told him with a smile.  “Stand up.”

“B-But I can’t . . .” he stammered.

“Yes, Gary, you can,” Andrew told him, holding out his hand.  “Here, in this place, you can.”  He rose to his feet.  “Just take my hand.”

Hesitantly, Gary reached up and clasped Andrew’s hand, pulling himself to his feet with surprising ease.  Puzzled, he looked around to get his bearings.

“Why am I here?” he asked.  “And what choice, exactly, did I make?”

“You chose as you’ve always chosen,” Andrew smiled.  “To place the lives and safety of others above your own.  It never ceases to amaze me, the dedication of the Guardians of your city.”

“Th-that’s the second, no, third time I’ve been called that,” Gary told him.  “Just what does that mean?  And how was I ‘chosen’ for this honor?”

Andrew shook his gold-crowned head in amusement.  “The Guardians are people like you, Gary,  who care enough to put their lives on the line to help others,” he chuckled.  “Even among this elite group, you are unique.  You see every life as sacred!  You make no pretense of judgment, or condemnation.  Even animals are worthy of your attention.  You don’t hesitate to become personally involved, no matter the cost to yourself.  You face every obstacle head on, even when it scares you to death.  You hesitate, sometimes, but you don’t back down once you decide to act.  You suffer ridicule, condemnation, and humiliation.  Yet, even a ‘crisis of faith,’ and the prospect of your own death only made you falter.  It didn’t stop you from doing the right thing!  You’ve even transcended time, Gary!  None of the others have accomplished anything close to that!”

“Whoopee,” Gary grumbled.  “I’m honored.  Now tell me who you are, and what’s your connection with the paper.”

“I’m an angel, Gary,” was the astonishing reply.  “I was sent by God to help you through a difficult time.  And to prepare you for even more trying times to come.  I, ahm, I’m also the Angel of Death,” he added hurriedly.

“C-come again?  Angel of D-death?” Gary stuttered.  “A-am I . . . ?”

“No!” Andrew hastened to assure him.  “It not your time . . . yet.  Exactly when your time will come, I can’t say.  But your adventures are only beginning.”

“S-so the paper does come from . . .?”  Gary aimed a shaky index finger skywards.

“Not exactly,” Andrew grinned.  “And the cat isn’t an angel.  Guardian or otherwise.”

“Th-then . . . who . . . wh-where?” the young Guardian stammered, looking around nervously.

“Not all of God’s agent are of this world,” the Angel of Death replied enigmatically.  “Nor are they of ‘celestial’ origin.  There are forces at work here that predate the birth of Jesus of Nazareth.  That are older than mankind itself.  These beings, like us, are trying to guide the faltering steps of an infant society on its way to greatness.  And, like us, they have to work behind the scenes, through agents such as yourself.  The tasks they give you are hard.  Some of them seem impossible.”

“Seem?” Gary snorted.  “I’ve been asked to be in two or three places at once!  To-to affect things that are happening half the world away!  To make choices based on-on how fast I can get to one place or another!  To stop disasters w-without a clue as to how they started!  To find that one event that can lead to total chaos!”  Shaking, he paused to get himself under control.  “I’m just one guy!  All I can do is the best I can.”

Andrew stepped closer to the distraught man, laying a comforting hand on each shoulder.  “Your best has been more than good enough, Gary,” he replied in a compassionate tone.  “You put your heart and soul into a task that too many run from.  Others have found it beyond their grasp, so they delegate their responsibilities to others.  That’s not to say that these others are bad or uncaring.  Just that they are unwilling to put as much of themselves into the task as you do.”

“H-how . . .”  Unable to meet the compassion in those hazel eyes, Gary looked away.  “Kn-knowing what I know, how can I do any less?  How can I walk away?  I’ve tried . . .”

“And you’ve always come back,” Andrew reminded him.  “Your heart won’t let you give up.  It’s just too great, too full of compassion!  That’s why you were chosen, Gary.  That’s why your soul has borne this burden through many lifetimes.  Also, unlike many other ‘old souls’, you’ve worn the same face throughout the centuries.  Only your name has changed.  The essence of who you are has remained constant through every kind of hardship you can imagine.”

A black and white image of a young soldier seated in a military jeep flashed through Gary’s mind.  Startled, he shot Andrew a questioning look. “J-Jimmy?” he stammered softly.  The angel gave him a sad smile and a nod.

“Just one of many,” he told the young Guardian.

“Y-you’re scaring me here,” Gary stammered.  “J-just how long have I been doing this?”

“You really don’t want to know,” Andrew grinned.  “On that, you’ll just have to take my word.”

“Oh,” Gary murmured in a small voice.  “S-so, where do I go from here?  I-I mean, wh-what happens next?  Will I still . . . still be in that . . . that . . .?”

“For a while,” Andrew shrugged.  “You still have some healing to endure.  But your task here is complete.  You helped Jean in a way that no one else could.  Because you could speak to her from experience on all levels.”

“Is that what all this was about?” he asked, indicating his legs with an expressive gesture.  “Was she . . . I mean, she said she wanted to . . .”

“And she would have if you hadn’t shown up when you did,” was Andrew’s solemn reply.  “Also, if you hadn’t set aside your own fear and weakness, she wouldn’t have been encouraged to pull herself up on that branch and meet you halfway.  For some reason Ms. Phillips is very important to the future of this world, or she wouldn’t have been singled out for special attention.  If not her, then one of her children.”

“Or one of the lives they impact on,” Gary nodded in understanding, if only a little.  “Kinda like a . . . a domino effect.  S-so now . . . what?  I wake up?  Or . . . not?  And why did my accident have to happen when it did?  Why did I have to go through all the . . . the stuff that I did?”

Andrew gave vent to a martyred sigh.  “First, you had to be strong enough, spiritually as well as mentally and physically, to face the ordeal of rescuing her from the cliff, and from herself,” he told the young man.  “The rest . . . There are also dark forces at work here, Gary.  Forces that want to see you fail, who rejoice in every set back they can cause you.  That’s why you can’t give up.  You have to be strong to defeat them.”

“Do I . . . Do I get any help in this battle?” Gary asked nervously.

The angel gave him a sad smile.  “Help is only a prayer away.  But for the most part, you‘re on your own.  All the decisions are yours, and yours alone.  We can offer only guidance, and a limited amount of assistance.  This battle is for the soul and future of humanity, and a human soul must fight it.  Are you strong enough, Gary?”

The young Guardian sighed heavily as he met that earnest gaze.  “Lord, I hope so.”

****************

Almost two hours after leaving him lying on the cold, hard ground, alone, total darkness had fallen.  By the time the rescue team reached the clearing, he had been unconscious for more than half that time.  To Jean’s eyes, Gary hadn’t moved so much as an inch.  The harsh lighting used by the paramedics made his pale features look almost bloodless.  Sweat glistened on his forehead as he stirred feebly in response to physical stimulus.  His breathing was still harsh and labored.

Upon arriving, one of the paramedics spoke briefly into his radio, advising the physician at the base station, of the situation at the scene.  He listened a moment, nodded, then quickly began filling a syringe with antivenin.  At the same time his partner was tying a tourniquet around Gary’s left arm, causing the veins to stand out.  An IV was quickly established, then the first man inserted the needle into the tubing, injecting a tiny amount of the serum.  Withdrawing the needle, he indicated that Gary be loaded onto a stretcher.  “By the time we get to the chopper,” he told Jean, “we’ll know if he’s allergic to the serum, or not.”

“If he is?” the teenager asked nervously.  As the paramedic shrugged without meeting her anxious gaze, her heart sank.  He couldn’t die!  Not like this!

**************

Gary was only dimly aware of the frantic activity going on around him.  Too sick and exhausted to even open his eyes, he could barely manage a low moan of protest as something jabbed him in the arm.  He tried to tell his tormentors to leave him alone as he was lifted and jostled onto some swaying surface, but all that came out was incoherent mutterings.

An eternity later, the swaying stopped as he was loaded onto a stable surface.  A moment later, something was once more tied around his right bicep, followed by another painful jab in the crook of his elbow.  He tried to protest, but nothing would come out.

Something had happened.  Something he should remember, but it insisted on eluding him.  Andrew.  There was something about the counselor that was . . . special.  What was it?  What was it he needed to know?

***************

“Community General, this is Med-Evac 2 enroute with a 35 year old white male.  Victim was bitten by a rattlesnake approximately two hours ago.  IV was established with Ringer’s Lactate, and antivenin was administered after test dose brought no reaction.  Patient has shown no response to antivenin.  Patient is also suffering from an open head injury in the occipital region.  Respirations are rapid and shallow, skin is cool and clammy, pulse is 95 and thready, BP is 90 over 50.”  The paramedic listened to the voice at the other end for a moment.  “Roger that Community General.  Our ETA is ten minutes.  Med-Evac 2 out.”

***************

Jade was just giving the twins their bath when the phone rang.  Handing a still dripping baby Gary to her cousin, Crystal, she snagged the receiver on the third ring.

“Hello?  Yes, this is . . . What?  How . . . Oh, God!  Where is he . . .?  Yes!  Yes, I’ll contact him immediately.  Thank you, Monica.”  Jade hit the disconnect button, then the speed dial for Chuck’s cell-phone.  She felt like she knew her husband pretty well.  If something happened to Gary, his best friend, and he wasn’t there for him, Chuck would never be able to forgive himself!

****************

Chuck glanced at his watch as he reached into his pocket for the vibrating cell-phone.  It was after seven.  It had to be Jade.  No one else would need to interrupt him at this hour.  Shooting his dining companion an apologetic glance, he flipped open the cover.  “Hello . . .”  He listened for a moment, his expression changing from apologetic to stricken.  “Wh-where . . .?  How soon . . .?  I’ll be there in fifteen.  Thanks for calling me so quick, honey.  N-no, I’m okay.  Don’t worry about me.  No, I’ll, um, I’ll get a cab, or something.  Oh, his folks!  Call McGinty’s.  They’re probably staying there.  I’ll call you as soon as I know anything, darlin’.  Bye.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hogan,” he murmured as he signaled for the check.  “Th-that was my wife.  I have to get to Community General right away.”

“Is something wrong with one of your babies,” the blonde actor asked in concern.

“N-no,” Chuck stammered.  “It’s my best friend.  The guy I just took to that . . . that camp I told you about.  He, ahm, he’s been in an accident.  L-look, I need to get a cab and get over there right now!”

“No worries, mate,” the big Aussie replied with a shake of his head.  “I’ll drop you off on my way home.”

“But you live in the other direction,” Chuck reminded him.

“So, I’ll take the scenic route,” he shrugged.  “The important thing is for you to be there for your mate.”

********************

By the time the ‘copter landed on the helipad at Community General Hospital the injured man had still not responded to the antivenin.  Gary was rushed to the ER, where the first person to see him was Dr. Jesse Travis.  He quickly got over his surprise at seeing the man he had met over dinner just a few days before, in such obvious distress, in his treatment room.  He quickly obtained as much history as the paramedics could give him.  Apparently, too much time had passed between the attack and the administration of the first dose of serum.  All they could do, now, was to make him as comfortable as possible and help him ride it out.

***************

Chuck rushed into the ER less than two steps behind another accident victim being wheeled in on a gurney.  He quickly spotted Dr. Travis standing off to one side of the main corridor, consulting with a man in a blue lab coat.  Rushing up to him, Chuck anxiously inquired about Gary.  Jesse drew the distraught man aside to talk out of the mainstream of traffic.

“He’s stable for now,” he told Chuck.  “We took him to ICU less than five minutes ago.”

“How bad is it?” Chuck asked, pacing back and forth nervously.  “Is it his heart?  Did it stop again?  Are we talkin’ ‘frequent dying miles’ here?  Or . . . or a c-coma?  Give it to me straight, Doc.  Is he gonna make it?  Did I kill my best friend, sending him to that place?  Tell me!”

“Calm down, Chuck,” Jesse urged the frantic man.  “All I can say, right now, is that he is stable.  We had some worries about his heart, at first, but he’s regained a normal sinus rhythm on his own, without cardio-version.”

“You’re talkin’ Greek to me, Doc,” Chuck told him.  “Translate what you just said.”

“His heart has a good, steady rhythm,” Jesse said with a smile.  “We did not have to shock him.  His CT scan showed no swelling or bleeding.  There’s no sign of fracture or concussion.  We have an EEG hooked up which shows normal brain activity.  He’s probably wide awake, but he’s unable to move a muscle.  And he’s on a respirator to help him breathe.”

Chuck paled at this last news.  “He’s totally paralyzed?” he gasped.  “My God!  Oh, my God!  What’ve I done to him!  It wasn’t bad enough with just his legs!  I had to go and get the rest of his body trashed, too!”

“Will you quiet down!” Jesse hissed.  “This is a hospital, for cryin’ out loud!  This is not necessarily a permanent condition.  He could come out of it as early as tomorrow, or as late as, well . . .”

“As late as never,” Chuck finished for him, his narrow face twisted in anguish.  “He could be like this for . . . for the rest of his life!”

“Look,” Jesse sighed, placing a hand of each of Chuck‘s shoulders.  “If you can’t project a more positive attitude, then I can’t let you in to see him.  The man needs hope, not a funeral dirge.  Get yourself under control or keep your butt in the waiting room.  What’s it gonna be?”

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Chuck nodded once without meeting Dr. Travis’ eyes.

“Good man.  Now, let’s get you up to ICU and find you a chair.  I’ll tell the nurses to let you stay for a while.”

****************

Chuck paused at the door to Gary’s cubicle.  He could see his friend’s motionless form through the glass partition and it tore at his heart.  White bandages made a sharp contrast against his friend’s dark hair.  Gary was hooked up to monitors and machines, the purposes of which Chuck could only guess at.  ‘It’s all my fault,’ he told himself.  ‘I told him about that place.  I sent him there!  Oh, God!  What have I done?’

Remembering Jesse’s admonishment about a positive attitude, Chuck squared his shoulders, wiped the tears from his eyes, and stepped into the tiny room.  He eased into the chair the nurse had placed near the head of the bed, gingerly reaching out to take Gary’s right hand in his.

“I know you can hear me, Gar,” he whispered.  “You can probably feel me holding your hand.  I just want you to know I’m here for you, kiddo.  Any time you want to talk, just feel free.  I-in the meantime, I’ll, um, I’ll just tell you what’s going on.  Okay?  Here goes.”

Chuck’s voice droned on as his friend listened in silence.

*****************

Hailey was the first of the group to burst through the ER doors, the others crowding less than a heartbeat behind her.  It had taken them hours in the ancient van to cover the same distance that the ‘copter had traversed in mere minutes.  All during the long, bumpy drive, each of them had been murmuring anxious, heartfelt prayers that they would not arrive at the hospital only to hear tragic news.  The reporter brought her chair to an abrupt halt in front of the admissions desk.

“Gary Hobson!” she snapped.  “Snakebite victim.  Where is he?”

The clerk shot the wheelchair-bound woman a tight-lipped frown, which softened as she took in the fearful looks on the six faces before her.  “Are you his family?” she asked gently.

“N-not exactly,” Jean spoke up.  “I’m the one he was hurt rescuing.  Please, tell us where we can find him?”

Something in the young girl’s eyes moved the clerk to provide her with the information she requested.  Or perhaps it was one of the oddly matched trio that had followed in on their own feet instead of wheelchairs.  The clerk was never really sure, but she thought she had seen them glowing ever so softly.

****************

Jesse came out of ICU to find himself facing half-a-dozen anxious faces peering up at him from wheelchairs.  It startled him for a moment until he recalled where his patient had been when the incident occurred.

“You’re from the camp,” he said with a tired grin.

“Yes,” Hailey replied.  “Gary Hobson.  How is he?”

Jesse tried to look reassuringly at the older woman, but it didn’t appear that she was buying it.  “His condition is critical,” he sighed.  “We’ve had to put him on a respirator because he’s having a lot of difficulty breathing.  So far he’s not responded to the antivenin at all.  That’s all I can tell you, because, at this time, that’s all we know.”

“Can we see him?” Bill asked.  “Or, at least a couple of us?”

“I’m sorry,” Jesse told them with sincere regret.  “The only exception to the ‘family only’ rule I can allow at this time is a close friend of his who’s sitting with him right now.  Space is very limited in these rooms, and I’m afraid your chairs just won’t let you get close enough to do any of you, or him, any good.  If you’ll give your names to the nurse, we can find you if there’s any change.”  He started to push past them, only to have the older of the two men grab his sleeve.

“What are his chances?” Doug asked with a grim expression.

“If it were anyone else,” Dr. Travis replied truthfully, “I’d say ‘pretty slim.’  Look, I’m gonna be brutal here, and tell you things I didn’t tell his friend.  This snake injected him with an incredibly strong toxin, and it hit ‘im like a freight train.  Even if he survives, he could be completely paralyzed.  Or, at the very least, suffer permanent brain damage of some sort.  But his friend, Mr. Fishman, tells me he’s made quite a habit of beating the odds lately.  Something about ‘frequent dying miles,’ I think.”  He tried to rub the weariness from his face before continuing.  “Anyway, all we can do now is pump him full of antibiotics and pain meds, and see if he can pull out of this on his own.”

“If anyone can,” Michelle insisted, “it’ll be Gary.  He has to.”

***************

Chuck sat clutching his friend’s limp hand between both of his as he watched the steady rise and fall of Gary’s chest.  He was wishing the movement was under Gary’s own power, not accompanied by the incessant click-whir of the respirator.  Was this what it had been like for the others?  Back when his friend had taken that first dreadful plunge down those wretched stairs?  Had Gary’s mom and dad sat by his side for hours, praying to see some sign of life, as he was praying now?

“C’mon, Gar,” he murmured softly.   “I know you can hear me.  I know it!  Please wake up.  Please tell me I didn’t send my best friend off to die!  I thought they could help you!  I did!  You’d been having such a rough time of it before.  I just thought they could help you build up your confidence.  Even before . . . this . . . you’ve doubted yourself.  Doubted that you could handle wh-what you had to do.  You are the most capable man I have ever met, Gary Hobson.  I just thought . . . a little boost to the ol’ morale was in order,” he continued in a tight voice, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye.  “I didn’t know I was sending you to . . . Don’t die on me, Gar!  Please!”

Sobbing quietly, Chuck pressed his forehead against Gary’s flaccid hand and prayed harder than he had ever prayed for anything in his life.  So wrapped up was he in his grief, he failed to notice the single tear rolling down from the corner of Gary’s eye.

*****************

Gary could hear everything.  He knew the doctors and nurses weren’t holding out much hope for him.  Knew that, at best, he might get by with only ‘minimal’ brain damage.  ‘How much is ‘minimal’?’ he wondered.  Would his memories be intact?  Would his mental processes be impaired?  What could he expect?  His head hurt, but nowhere near as bad as when he had been mugged, so he probably didn’t have a concussion.  Right?

He knew that his parents had been called, and that his mother was even now booking the earliest flight she could get.  He also knew that his best and oldest friend was blaming himself for his current state.

‘It’s not your fault, Chuck,’ he tried to say.  ‘It was just another stupid accident.  Please don’t punish yourself like this!’  But no words came out.  Gary concentrated on just opening one eye, so that he could at least see his friend, and let him see he was going to be alright.  Not even a twitch of an eyelash.  ‘Please, God!’ he begged.  ‘Help me!  Let me wake up from this nightmare! I . . . I can’t help anyone like this!  Either let me move or let me die!  Please!’

******************

The group from the camp sat around the ICU waiting area, every eye jerking towards the door at any and all movement.  Finally, in frustration, Hailey tossed down the magazine she had been pretending to read.

“Why won’t someone just tell us something,” she moaned.  “Anything!”

“They may not have anything to say,” Eleanor sighed.  “Except to tell us there’s been no change.”

“God!  Why did I have to be so stupid and insensitive!” the older woman snapped bitterly.  “I knew how upset just the idea of his story going to print made him!  I knew!  So why did I have to plant that stupid recorder!”  Earlier, upon returning to the dining room at the camp, she had immediately confessed to everyone what had happened.  She had been so distraught over what she thought Gary might do, what she may have driven him to do, that she had not thought to pull the counselors aside.  “He has to be alright,” she pleaded, tears welling up in her hazel eyes.  “He has to.”

“He will be,” Doug assured her.  “I mean, look at what he’s been through already.  The boy’s just too ornery to kick off over a little snakebite.  Right?”  He looked around at the others, his eyes expressing the worry that his words denied.  “Right?”

A crushing silence was his only answer.

***************

“He will be alright, won’t he, Andrew?” Monica asked of her fellow ‘counselor’.  “Surely God does not intend that he suffer any further hardship.”

“Gary is going to live,” the blonde angel sighed.  “Beyond that . . .”  He shrugged and shook his head sadly.  “This may be another test which he has to endure.  It’s possibly a test of his determination and will to survive.  The path chosen for Gary is a long, arduous one, full of an endless variety of pitfalls.  Pride being the least of them.”

“Well, that’s good,” Tess snorted.  “With what he’s been through, I’m surprised the boy has any pride left.”

 ***************

Gary was getting worried about Chuck.  His friend had not made a sound in quite a while.  It was hard to judge time in the limbo state he found himself in, but he knew that prolonged silence was not in character for his ebullient friend.  Sweat broke out on his forehead as he concentrated all of his strength on trying to move his right hand, the one Chuck was clutching like a lifeline.  ‘Just one finger, God,’ he pleaded.  ‘Just one finger to let him know I can hear him!  Please!’

*****************

Chuck looked up as the beeping from the monitor over Gary’s bed started picking up speed.  Was that good?  Did that mean his best pal might be waking up soon?  “C’mon, Gar,” he murmured softly.  “You can do it, pal.”  The rhythm of the monitor picked up its pace a little.  “Atta boy, Gar,” Chuck whispered.  “Keep at it.  You can do this, Gary.  Just keep trying.  C’mon!”

Gradually, the beeping slowed down to its former pattern once more.  Disappointment washed over Chuck’s tired, drawn features as he sat back, giving Gary’s hand a gentle pat.  “That’s okay, pal,” he sighed.  “You’ll get it next time.  Just keep trying, Gary.  It’s all you can do.  Just keep trying.”

***************

“How is he doing?” Dr. Sloan asked his young colleague the next morning.

“If you’re talking about Gary Hobson,” Jesse sighed wearily, “he’s holding his own.  Vital signs were a little closer to normal when I checked in on him an hour ago.  But he still hasn’t regained  consciousness.  His heart rate keeps going up and down.  It’s kinda like he’s trying to wake up, but just doesn’t have the strength, yet.  I’m getting really worried about total paralysis.  That’s all he needs.  Man, seeing him come in like that, with everything that he’s already been through, it kinda freaked me out for a second.  I mean, how much bad luck can one person go through and stay sane?”

“I think Gary is pushing the limits on that issue,” Mark Sloan sighed.  “I just got a call from a young woman I used to know.  Dr. Janet Fraiser.  Excellent young resident when I knew her several years ago.  She claims to know Gary, and of his situation.”

“That’s fine,” Jesse murmured, “but what’s that . . .?”

“She’ll be here in a couple of hours to consult with us on some tests she ran on him just before he came to Los Angeles,” Mark told him.  “So go catch some shut-eye while you can.  I’ll let ICU know to page me if there’s any change in his condition.  Is his friend still here?”

“Um, yeah,” Jesse mumbled.  “He’s in the waiting room.  I promised we’d let him know if anything changes.”

“Good,” Mark nodded, rising to his feet once more.  “I’ll go talk to him while you get some rest.”

“Don’t know how much rest I’ll get,” Jesse sighed as he pushed himself to his feet.  “Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing Hobson lying on that gurney, looking like he’s about to take his last breath.  There’s just something about this guy, Mark.  Something . . . special.  But I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.  I mean, look at his track record just since he hit the Coast.  He saves you and Steve from a poisonous snake, then he gets bitten while saving this girl he barely knows from falling off a cliff!  From what his friends say, he’s having major guilt trips because he couldn’t save the guy who was trying to kill him!  What kind of man is he?”

Mark Sloan paused at the door to look back at his young friend.  “Well, he seems to be a very caring young man,” he observed.  “To paraphrase Hitchcock, I’d have to say he’s ‘The Man Who Cares Too Much.’  Now, off you go.  I’ll call you when Dr. Fraiser gets here.  I really think you two need to put your heads together on this case.  Who knows?  We might see a miracle.”

“I hope so,” Jesse murmured as he headed for the lounge.  “I think he’s earned a couple.”

*****************

Dr. Sloan found Chuck Fishman pacing nervously in the crowded waiting room.  The young producer looked as if he had not slept all night, which he probably hadn’t.  He had obviously not shaved, and his thin brown hair was badly disheveled.  At every sound, Chuck’s head whipped around to face the door, so he spotted the kindly physician the moment he arrived.

“How is he?” he asked anxiously.  “Is there any change?  He’s dead, isn’t he!  My, God!  It’s finally happened!  His heart stopped and you couldn’t get him back this time!  I-I gotta go . . . go see ‘im!” he cried, trying to push his way past Mark, tears welling in his eyes.

“Whoa!” Dr. Sloan ordered, grabbing Fishman by the shoulders and holding him back.  “First of all, I just looked in on your friend and he’s still hanging in there.  His heartbeat is a little bit stronger, and he‘s trying to fight the respirator, which is good.  We’ve eased back the pressure a bit to see if we can start weaning him off of it.  We’ll be keeping him in ICU until that’s done, then he’ll be moved to a private room.”  He bent slightly to look the smaller man in the eyes.  “He’s trying to fight his way back to us, Chuck.  And we‘ll do everything in our power to see that he makes it.”

Chuck looked up into the doctor’s concerned gaze, clear blue eyes asking silently if he was going to be ‘okay.’  Relief washed over him in a flood as he sank into one of the waiting room chairs.  Gary was okay.  His best friend in the whole world was definitely going to live.  Today, anyway.  He had never mentioned it to anyone, not Gary or Marissa, not even to his wife, but one of the reason’s he had left Chicago was fear.  Fear that he would be the one called to identify whatever remained of his friend after a rescue gone disastrously bad.  Every time he saw Gary, Chuck was reminded of just how dangerous his buddy’s life had become.  Even now, confined to that damned chair, he was almost constantly at risk.

“Can I see him?” Chuck asked shakily.  “Th-they chased me out last night.  M-made me leave him there . . . all alone.”

“I’ll tell the nurses to let you stay for a couple of hours.”  Dr. Sloan promised.  “Any word on his mother?”

“Um, yeah,” the younger man answered distractedly.  “Jade’s on her way to pick her up at the airport.  He’s really gonna be okay?”

Before Mark could reply, he felt a tug on the back of his lab coat.  He looked down to see a pretty auburn haired girl in her teens, sitting in a wheelchair.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “But I couldn’t help overhearing.  You’re talking about Gary Hobson, the man who was flown in last night?  The snake bite?  We . . . we’re from the same camp.  Is there any chance we could see him?  Just to let him know we’re here for him?  Please?”

Dr. Sloan sadly shook his head.  “Not while he’s in the Unit,” he told her.  “There’s just not enough room.  But we’ll try to keep you posted on his condition, Miss . . .”

“Phillips,” the girl replied with a trembling smile.  “Jean Phillips.  I’m . . . I’m the one he pulled up the cliff face after . . . after he was . . . bitten.  H-he didn’t even know he’d been . . . I mean, how could he?  B-But he hates heights, and-and his head was . . . H-he must’ve hit . . .”  Over come with guilt and grief, the young redhead leaned forward, burying her face in her hands as she let her tears flow.

An older woman with short blonde hair propelled her chair up next to the sobbing girl, pulling her into a gentle embrace.  “It’s not your fault,” she said.  “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.  I was the one who drove him into riding off like he did, not you.”  She looked up at the two men.  “Hailey Tisdale, reporter for INN.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Chuck mumbled.  “Gar hates publicity.”

“I realize that,” Hailey sighed.  “Now.  I just had no idea how much, or why, until we bullied him into talking about the nightmares he’d been having.”

“And about what happened last Halloween,” a teenaged boy, also confined to a wheelchair, spoke up.  “Are you Chuck?” he asked.

“Wha . . . um, yeah,” Chuck nodded.  “He talked about me?”

“Said you were his best friend,” the boy replied.  “How is he?  We’ve been here all night, but no one’s told us anything.”

Dr. Sloan quickly told the anxious group everything he had told Chuck.  Then he promised to see that they were given an update as soon as anything happened.  As he led Chuck back to ICU, he shook his head sadly.

“Gary has so many friends,” he sighed, “and such rotten luck.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Chuck mumbled.  “Gar’s the kinda guy who’ll go out and work like a dog to make a fortune, just to give it to someone that he thinks needs it more than he does.  Then he’ll go out and do it all over again.  Money and fame don’t mean a thing to him.  He’s just a really nice guy!”

******************

To Chuck’s eyes, Gary looked pretty much as he had left him.  The machine beside his bed still made that steady, hypnotic click-whirr.  The monitor over his head beeped out a reassuring rhythm.  Gary still lay flat on his back, eyes closed, unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of his chest.  Chuck pulled that same chair he had occupied before up close to the bed and sat down.  Gently, he lifted his friend’s right hand and began to slowly massage it.

“Your mom’ll be here soon,” he murmured.  “Jade’s picking her up now.  I’ll . . . I’ll stay ‘til she gets here.  We won’t let ‘em drive us out again, pal.  You won’t ever be alone while you’re in this place, I promise you!  Just . . . just don’t give up, Gar.  Please don’t give up.  The world needs guys like you.  We need guys like you . . . to keep us on the straight and narrow.  To show us the kind of person we should all try to be.  I need you, Gary, to keep me on the right track.  Don’t abandon me now.”

He looked up as the beeping from the monitor picked up speed.  Watched as the numbers rose higher, leveled out for a moment, then began to slow down once more.  Startled, he looked down at the hand he held.  Was it his imagination, or had he felt a slight trembling in the fingers of that hand?

“C’mon, Gar,” he whispered encouragingly.  “You can do this!  I know you can do this!  One more time, please!  Just to let me know you can hear me!”

Again, the beeping grew more rapid, as the fingers on Gary’s right hand trembled every so slightly.  Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead, indicating to Chuck that his friend was putting forth tremendous effort to make just that tiny amount of motion.  As the beeping slowed once more, Chuck took a washcloth and wiped the moisture from Gary’s brow.

“That was great, pal,” he murmured.  “You keep trying.  We’ll have you out of this bed in no time.  You hear me?  You and me, Gar.  We’re a team.  We’ll always be the ones to beat.”

****************

‘He knows!’ Gary exulted.  ‘He knows I can hear him!  Thank you, God!  Thank you!’  In the silence of his heart, Gary wept for joy over that tiny victory.  He would not give up, now.  He couldn’t.  Not when his friend needed him so much.  And Mom would be there, soon.  Good.  She could always drag the best out of him.  Even when he felt he had no more to give, Mom could always help him find just a little bit more.  With her, Chuck, and God on his side, he couldn’t lose.

****************

“Jesse Travis, let me introduce Dr. Janet Fraiser,” Mark Sloan said with a sly grin.  The two young doctors were able to look each other in the eye, both being just barely over five feet in height.  They appeared to be pretty close age wise, as well.  When he had first met Janet, she had been in the midst of a very messy divorce.  Jesse, also, had been shortchanged in the romance department.

“Nice to meet you, Janet,” Jesse replied, giving the uniformed doctor a tired smile.  “Mark tells me you may be onto something that can help my patient.”

“I hope so,” Dr. Fraiser smiled in return.  “From what I understand, his condition is pretty serious.  The treatment I’d like to try has been run through some pretty sophisticated computer simulations, but no human, or even animal, trials.”

“So, this is an experiment from the get go,” Jesse murmured.  “With Gary as the guinea pig?”

“Not entirely,” the young Air Force major responded.  “I’ve based it on some tests I did on Gary at our facility a little over a week ago, plus some research I’ve been a party to over the last several years.  I have access to some really ‘out of this world’ equipment.  Is there someplace we can talk privately?   Most of what I have to say is . . . not for public distribution.”

“Sure,” Mark smiled.  “We can use my office.”  He paused as he noticed Jade Fishman hurrying in on the heels of a petite blonde woman.  The blonde headed for the admissions desk like a guided missile.  “Excuse me a moment.  Oh, um, Jesse.  Why don’t you show Janet to my office?  I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

Jesse followed his friend’s gaze, understanding instantly.  “Sure, Mark,” he nodded, taking Dr. Fraiser by the elbow.  “Right this way, Major.”

“You can call me Janet,” the pretty redhead smiled as she was led away.

Dr. Sloan quickly crossed the ER lobby as the blonde asked the whereabouts of her son.

“Jade,” he called softly.  “This way.”

Startled, the younger woman snapped her head around.  She relaxed a bit when she caught sight of the doctor.  Tugging on the smaller woman’s sleeve, she whispered something, then led her across the nearly empty room.

“Dr. Sloan,” Jade sighed with relief.  “This is Lois Hobson, Gary’s mother.  Is Chuck still with him?”

“He was when I looked in a little while ago,” he said, taking Lois by the hand.  “It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Hobson.  I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You can call me Lois,” she replied, giving his hand a quick, firm shake.  “Tell me, Dr. Sloan, what are his chances?  And how soon can I see him?”

Dr. Sloan led the two women into the ER doctor’s lounge and sat them down.  “To answer your second question, I’ll take you to see him as soon as we’ve had a chance to talk,” he told them.  “As to his chances . . . Right now, he’s almost totally paralyzed.  His heart and brain, so far as we can tell, are functioning normally.  His lungs are very weak and we’ve had to put him on a respirator.  But we think he’s aware of everything that’s happening around him, and that he‘s fighting as hard as he can to get back to us.  Chuck said that he felt his fingers move when I last checked in.  Also, his heart rate and blood pressure will show a brief, sudden rise occasionally.  Usually in response to something that’s been said or done to him.  There’s also EEG evidence of increased brain activity on those occasions.”

Lois sat back in the chair, her eyes brimming with tears of relief.  “He’s going to live,” she sighed.  “Thank God.”  She looked up, meeting Dr. Sloan’s concerned gaze.  “Gary’s a fighter, Dr. Sloan.  He’ll deny it, of course.  He’ll say he’s just ‘an average guy.’  But once he gets started on something, he won’t quit until it’s finished.  That includes moving and, eventually, walking.  Now, please, take me to see my son.”

****************

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