Three worlds collide....
A young author who doesn't want to leave, forced to run for
her life.  A wanderer whose never been out of his hometown,
finally for the first time getting out to see the world.  And
an observer, just along for the ride...
When Calib Ashur saves a young woman from mysterious men in
grey and glances into her eyes, he knows his old way of life
is forever dead.  Instead, he's now plunged into a world of
lies and deceipt, a world on the edge of disaster that fate
has cruelly thrown him into, along with his best friend.


~Prologue~ 1958

"In the beginning of time,
There was nothing.
Then slowly continents and oceans formed
And life developed from the sea.
With time man came about
His golden age lasting less than the creatures before.
Time shall pass, and earth change
Man shall thrive, but things do shift
Time, which has been man's ally, now turns
Man shall die, when the blood sky shines
Nothing will know the destruction coming
No one will remember the destruction done.
No longer will sun shine on the earth
The waters will flame, and fires water
All shall look to see what They left us
But there will be nothing.
Nothing at all to sooth burnt bubbling skin."
     Dairdrui smiled, and cackled, reading what she had just
written back to herself.  She laughed, and laughed, not
because it was funny, but because though she saw the scene
described in her mind, she would never see it firsthand.  It
would never happen in her lifetime.
     It didn't mean that it wouldn't happen to people she
knew, or the descendants of those people.  No, it would
probably happen to them.  But it was a long time coming, and
Dairdrui didn't mind the thought that man would perish.
     Not unlike the dinosaurs, she thought to herself.  We're
all going to end up like them; bones in some other being's
museum as the only testament to our lives.
     Not that Dairdrui cared that one day, no one would
remember her.  She hadn't led a life worth remembering
anyhow.  And everyone's name was forgotten eventually.  Dying
was the physical death of the body, a waste.  Dairdrui
believed that the only way to achieve life after death was to
be remembered, and that once the memory was gone, there was
no longer life.  Even if people remembered her long enough to
go to a memorial service held in her name, they would soon
forget, or die as well.  Then she would be forgotten, and
there would be no afterlife.
     There would be no afterlife, either, for those who did
not survive the blood sky.

~Chapter 1~ 2047
******************************
     The sky was clear, devoid of all clouds, stormy or
otherwise.  It was the perfect spring day to be outside.  Not
that the author wanted to be outside.  No, outside was the
place where she would be forced to run if They came after
her.  Which, of course, They would.  She had gotten word from
an inside source that They would come today.
     The young writer typed quickly on the computer, trying
to get her last sentence out before They came.  They with a
capital 'T'.  They were after her, for what she didn't know.
Maybe it was because she was a writer, a good one at that.
Or maybe it was because of what she wrote.  She didn't know.
All she knew was that she had to finish her article and send
it off to the Lune de Soleil.
     Just as she typed the last word and placed a period to
signify the end, a knock came on the door.  "Shit," she
whispered to herself, saving her work to disk.  SHe grabbed
it once it was saved, and opened the window.  Throwing out
the rope ladder that she kept on the bookshelf near the
window, she quickly scuttled down it.
     Once she was halfway down the rope, she heard the sharp
crack of her door being kicked in.  "Double shit," she
muttered, quickening her pace.  She hadn't expected Them
quite so soon, so she had allowed herself more time than she
actually had.
     A head stuck out the open window, and piercing blue eyes
looked down at her.  "Hey!  Stop!"
     She paid the voice no mind; after all, he probably
belonged to Their secret government organization.  He was
probably allied with Them, was probably one of Their agents.
So she didn't stop.  Once her feet hit the ground, she ran
quickly into the woods behind her Bogensburgh home.  Reaching
the edge of the woods, she risked a glance back at the house
that she had lived in all her life, the elegant white house
that had put up her family for more than two hundred years.
Sighing, she turned away, and headed for her clearing.  She
only hoped to return to it someday.
     She heard sounds of Them following her, sounds of
footsteps on last fall's dried up leaves and plants.  She had
to hurry, or They would catch up with her, and then all would
be lost.  Fighting her way through the brush, she quickly
yanked the duct tape out of her pocket and tore a piece off
with her teeth.  She stopped near a familiar tree and wound
the tape around the disk and the bottom of one of the
protruding roots.  Stepping back to admire her work, she
nodded to herself reluctantly.  I'll have to come back for
it, she thought.  Later, when I'm not being chased.  They'll
never find it here.
     Glancing back one more time, she broke into a run and
headed for her hideaway.

     The bark of the dogs far off in the distance told her
that They were still in pursuit.  SHe sighed, then veered off
to the right, heading for the small stream that she knew
would take the dogs off her scent.  Reaching in it, she
splashed right in, and headed downstream, to the right.
     Once her toes began to tingle with the cold of the
stream, she knew she had reached her limits.  It was time to
get out of the water.
     She ran up the left bank, carefully trying to avoid
stepping on anything which might give her position away.
Then she ran back towards the way she came, heading for the
one spot she knew they'd never be able to find her at.
     After nearly half an hour of running, she finally
stopped at the edge of a clearing.  A thick ring of trees
lined the verdant clearing, and animals played freely here.
Another, smaller, stream wound through the middle of the
field, and deer drank from the slower, more languid parts of
it.
     She slowed herself to a walk, and calmly traversed the
green grass until she reached the tiny, one room cabin that
had been slaves' cabins before the Civil War.  She had found
it one day, when she was a younger girl, and fixed it up.
Buying furnishings, and getting the necessaries installed,
she had made it her own little hideaway.  She was the only
one who knew about it.  Not even They knew about it.
     She opened the door and sighed, feeling safe enough to
make a sound.  Now that she was here, however, she had no
idea how long she would be staying.  However long it takes
for Them to stop searching the woods for me, she decided.
However long that would be.  They could take days, weeks, and
she knew it.  But for now, she'd settle in and read some of
the books that she had stocked up on for just the occasion.

~Chapter 2~
******************************
     The sky was cloudy, gray and overcast, just like it
always was in Koswick, Vermont.  All in all, it wasn't a very
nice day to be in the small, one movie theater, one diner,
one school, town.  There wasn't anything else for miles
around, either; Koswick, being situated so high in the
Appalachian mountains, was isolated to the degree that the
town relied on itself for food and economy.  There was one
road leading in, and the same road leading out.  A few tiny
shops lined the road, which was interestingly called
Thoroughfare Highway, though traffic didn't come too often to
get much use out of it.  Calib Ashur didn't pay much
attention to it, seeing as it had been there longer than he'd
been alive and living in this goddamned town.  He'd lived in
Koswick his entire life, having been born in it by a midwife,
and would probably die in the town, never getting a chance to
see the world.
     That, he would say when asked, was his biggest regret.
Never getting to see the world.  When he was a child, the
world had been Koswick.  There had never been any thoughts of
exploring the rest of the world; after all, what did he need
the rest of the world for?  He had everything he needed here,
and hadn't realized what riches the world held.  Now,
however, that he was twenty five, he was eager to get out and
know what was out there.
     Calib's dream wasn't very plausible, seeing as he had
little money and few assets to sell.  He lived in a run down
house on Pachalic Road, drove an old '20s Ford, and had only
a few hundred dollars in the bank.  Nothing else, except for
the old talisman his grandfather had given him on his
deathbed, but Calib could never part with it.  It was a small
sliver of Emerald stone set in Chrysolite, and his
grandfather had always told him that it would bring him True
Love and free him of evil passions, false friends, and
depression.  So far, it hadn't done anything, but Calib had
faith that once he got out of this rotting old town
everything would work out the way it was supposed to.  But
there was that problem again; how to get out of Koswick.
     "Calib?" a voice called to him, breaking him free of his
thoughts.
     He turned at the sound of the familiar male voice.
"Yeah, Tricks?" he replied.
     Patrick O'Killen sat down next to him on the park bench.
"Whatcha thinkin' about, Calib?"
     "How'd ya know I was thinkin'?" replied Calib.
     Tricks grinned.  "I haven't been your friend twenty
three years not to know when you're thinkin'.  An you're
thinkin' right now.  Elsewise, why'd you be out here?
Especially when it's about to storm."
     "Ah, you know me too well, Tricks.  I can't fool you no
more.  I can't fool anybody no more."
     "Is that the problem?  Is that what's got ya thinkin'?
You can't fool nobody anymore?"  Tricks, being Calib's best
friend for longer than either could remember, knew all of
Calib's duplicities like the back of his hand.  And Tricks
O'Killen knew the back of his hand well.
     "Nah, that ain't it.  It's more of a...restlessness
inside.  I want to get out, I wanna see the world, an' I
don't know if I'll be gettin' my chance anytime soon."
     Tricks glanced thoughtfully at the clouds in the sky,
trying to make sense of what his friend was telling him.
Calib wanted out, and, for the first time, was voicing that
desire.
     "Where in the world were you thinkin' 'bout goin'?" he
asked carefully.
     Calib shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I only know that
there's somewhere a place for me, but that place sure as hell
ain't Koswick."
     "Then why don't you go, Calib?  What's keeping you
here?" Tricks asked suddenly.  He might not have liked the
thought of his best friend leaving him, but he wouldn't stand
in his way of true happiness.
     Calib frowned, his forehead puckering in thought.  "I
don't know.  Money, for one thing, is a problem.  How am I
supposed to get out of here if I don't have anything to get
out with?"
     Tricks thought for a moment.  "You have your car, right?
And I do believe your birthday is coming up next week.
Mayhap you could accept an early gift from me, and use that
to get out."
     "Ah, Tricks, I don't want you to be spendin' money on
me, for some stupid desire that'll probably wind me up back
in Koswick, with my ass in some sling," Calib said, slapping
his friend on the back.
     Tricks sighed.  He should have known that it'd be harder
to convince Calib to take the money than it was to actually
give it to him.  "Calib, you know I'm pretty well off, and
that I can afford a few grand out of my pockets.  It ain't
gonna kill me, but if you stay in Koswick, it might kill
you."
     Calib remained silent for a moment, knowing what Tricks
meant.  Koswick had a high suicide rate, which authorities
attributed to small town depression and the always dreary
weather.  "Fine," he replied after a few seconds.  He took
out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  "But only if you
come with me."
     Tricks was surprised.  He hadn't expected Calib to offer
to come with him, much less demand it.  After the initial
shock had worn off, he smiled.  "Deal."
     Calib grinned.  Finally he was getting what he had
wanted; a one way trip out of his hometown.  Best of all, his
unequaled friend was coming with him.  That was one of the
advantages of having a rich friend, Calib decided, as he
puffed on the cigarette.  You never had to worry much about
finances.  "Well, then, what are we waiting for?" he asked,
getting up from the bench.  "Let's get going."

     They left early the next morning, in Calib's old Ford.
Dark underneath the cover of night, they savored their last
few minutes in the town they had known all their life in
silence.  Each felt a little saddened by their sudden
departure, but if they wanted to leave and see the world,
they had better go without telling anyone, for surely their
neighbors would try to convince them to stay.  That was why
they left so early; to avoid the neighbors and the questions
they might have.  Calib, of course, living on Pachalic Road,
had neighbors who were none too friendly, but would still
have questions.
     The dim flare of the cigarette in the darkness was the
only sign of life in the small town.  "Put that out," Tricks
commanded.  "You know how bad those things are for you."
     Calib groaned.  "Fine," he said, throwing the cigarette
to the ground and stamping it out.  He needed his cigarettes,
but he needed his best friend more, so he humored him.  "You
reckon you're ready to head out?" he asked in place of his
usual protests.
     Tricks nodded, then remembered that in the dark, Calib
couldn't see him.  "Yeah.  You?"
     "Yeah," came the reply as the sound of a match flaring
broke through the chirping of the crickets.  Soon a tiny
flame was heading fast towards another cigarette in Calib's
mouth.
     Tricks only sighed, realizing that he would never get
Calib to quit.  "Which way are we goin'?" he asked instead.
     "South.  That's the way my bones are creakin'.  That's
the way we'll be headin'."
     Tricks nodded again, but this time did not say anything.
Instead, he clambered into the passenger side of the Ford.
"Let's be off," he said, once he was settled.
     Calib nodded, then climbed into the car himself.
Backing the car out onto Pachalic Road, he put the cigarette
out in the car's ashtray and threw it out the open window.
     After driving for an hour past the houses and
storefronts that they had known for two and a half decades,
they came to the end of Thoroughfare Highway.  Calib stopped
the car and got out, Tricks following him.
     "Look at that, Tricks," he said.  "It's a beauty, ain't
it?"
     Tricks glanced over to where he was looking.  Behind
them, up north the way they had come from, was the sleepy
little town of Koswick, Vermont, bathed in the golden red
glow of sunrise.  The sun peaked over the mountains like a
cautious child playing a game of hide and seek, trying to
find the town.  Tricks almost expected it to cry out, "Found
ya!" and tag the town.  But of course, that was silly,
because the sun couldn't say anything, nor could it play
anything.
     "Looks almost like blood," Calib added, watching the
silent splendor of nature unfold before his very eyes.
     Tricks glanced over at him, and, not for the first time,
wondered what went on inside his head.  Sure, he might have
known his best friend like the back of his hand, but the
mysteries which lay beneath the skin of his hand remained
just that; mysteries.
     "Take a long look at that, my friend.  We'll not be
seeing a sunrise like that for a while, if ever again."
Calib lit up a cigarette and puffed on it.  "We'd best be
headin' off.  I wanna get on the open road and outta this
state before noon."
     Tricks nodded and followed him back to the car.
Strapping himself into the passenger seat once more, he
thought about what he had gotten himself into and grinned.
It was an adventure he had gotten himself into, and one that
he was not likely to forget.  With Calib by his side, he
could do anything, and probably would.
     He settled himself against the seat, and glanced out the
window to the rearview mirrors.  It reflected the beauty of
the scene they were leaving behind, the red sun still peaking
above the unsuspecting town.  Tricks smiled, then turned his
attention away from his past and into his future, through the
front windshield.

~Chapter 3~
******************************
     The author put down her book.  It was nearing the
seventh day she had been driven to hide, and finally the bark
of the dogs had faded in the distance.  Either They had lost
her scent and truly given up for now, or They were hiding,
hoping that she would come out of wherever she was and then
They'd catch her.  It could be either way, but she would bet
They had given up.  A week is a long time for a manhunt in
the woods, and They might have figured she had a car stashed
away somewhere and had taken it out of the state.  Whatever
the reason the dogs were gone, she figured it would be all
right if she just looked outside, which she hadn't let
herself do for fear that They were standing outside, ready
with their guns to silence her.
     So, setting her book silently on the table and standing,
she moved to the window.  Pushing back the black curtain she
had installed to not let light out at night, she cautiously
glanced out.  Nothing.  She repeated this manuever at every
window in the tiny shack and sighed.  Nothing.  They weren't
out there.  She had even double-checked with binoculars, and
hadn't been able to see anything.  Or rather, anyone.  They
weren't out there.
     She grabbed her small duffel bag of clothes and other
necessities, including keys to the car that she had stashed
away, and headed out the door.  Gingerly, she glanced around,
then headed back towards the tree she had left her disk, and
prayed that only They had not found it.

     Nearly reaching the tree, she stopped and looked about
for maybe the hundredth time or so for Them.  Nothing, again.
Every five minutes or so, she'd look back, just to find
nothing.  So she continued on her way.
     She kneeled at the base of the tree, praising its
spirit, then looking for the disk she had taped to the bottom
of it's protruding root.  It was still there, thank Mother
Earth.  She quickly snatched it, then headed east, out of the
forest.

     After walking for a little under an hour, she reached
the little used dirt path.  Walking it for ten minutes, it
widened until one was able to drive upon it.  That was where
she had hidden her car, a new '47 Oldsmobile Intrigue.  It
was styled after the old 1900's versions, but was definitely
a new car by the looks of it.  The grey paint was beautifully
finished, and the sun glinted and glimmered on the edges in
the late afternoon shine.
     She fumbled for her key, then quickly got in, looking
around for any signs of Them.  Still, there was nothing.  So
she revved up the engine and drove the hell out of the
forest.
     She only allowed herself one stop, in front of her
house, on the way out of town.  Just like she had suspected,
there were many government issue cars parked outside the huge
white building.  Her house, which had been the source of her
most precious memories, was now crawling with Their agents,
looking for any evidence of her crimes against Them, or
perhaps any clue as to where she would go.  They would find
nothing.
     Sighing, she pushed the gas pedal a little harder than
she normally would, and drove in silence to the northern
highway, and to freedom.

     Dusk came, settling over the sleepy little town of
Rainwood like a dark blanket of despair upon a depressed
teenager.  Perhaps she was just being a bit poetic in her
analogy, but that was part of the job of being an author.  To
make things sound nicer than they actually seemed.  A
euthanism, she believed it was called.
     Settling against the bright red sheets the motel
provided, she sighed.  After a stressful week sleeping on an
uncomfortable couch, she was glad for the rest the motel
provided, however seedy it may prove to be, or how very
unhelpful the staff had been checking in.
     Too tired to read, and sick of the activity anyway, she
turned on the small tv and watched the news.  Another
shooting at a school, another war, but none of it mattered.
In the end, all that was going to be left was memories of
these events, and memories were all that mattered.
     Blue light flickering from the tv, she fell asleep for
the first time in a long time without worrying about Them
coming for her, fairly sure that she had covered her tracks
well.

~Chapter 4~
*****************************
     Dawn's first rays of light found Calib and Tricks in a
peaceful slumber, deep in the heart of Windwater Harbor,
Massachusetts.  Tricks woke first, the sunlight streaming in
through the open window creeping around the boundaries of
consciuosness and unconsciousness through the edges of his
eyelids.  Quietly, so as not to wake Calib, he slid out of
bed and into the bathroom.
     Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at the little
dark stubble of his beard.  He sighed, then picked up his
razor and brought it to his face.  Before he could begin to
shave, though, a thought stopped him.  Maybe, since he was
starting his new life on the road with Calib, to see the
world, he should have a new look to go along with it.  Yes,
that was what he would do.  So he stepped into the shower and
turned the water full force on instead.
     "Tricks?  That you?" Calib's voice came through the thin
door.
     "Yeah, Calib, it's me!" he shouted over the dull roar of
the water.
     "I'm going to go get us some breakfast," Calib answered
back.  "I'll be right back."
     Tricks nodded, knowing that Calib needed no reply.
Instead he concentrated on washing himself.

     Calib heaved a deep sigh of relief, knowing that Tricks
wouldn't reply.  So he threw some clothes on, grabbed the
motel key, and headed out the door to town.
     Windwater Harbor was possibly the most beautiful town he
had ever seen, of that there was no doubt, because Calib had
never been outside of Koswick before.  Windwater Harbor,
being on the coastline of Massachusetts, was a drowsy little
fishing town, with a small, windy harbor.  Calib supposed
that's where the town got the name from.  On the piers and
docks, one could see for miles around.  The sea inside the
harbor and a bit further out was choppy, and Calib had
learned by overhearing a conversation between two fishermen
that when the sea was like that, it was called whitecaps.
Gulls cried, pecking at each other for a crumb, or an entire
piece, of bread, depending on the age of the bread thrower.
     It was totally different from Koswick, that mountain
village where he had wasted twenty five years of his life.
Koswick was dead and dreary, but Windwater Harbor was full of
life, and far from dreary.  All the fishers on the piers
called greetings out to him as he passed, and the sun shone
brightly, unlike the grey stormclouds that were forever
hanging over Koswick.  Windwater Harbor was definitely a town
that would be nice to settle down in and start a family, but
Calib wasn't a family man, and he wasn't planning on settling
down in the first town he saw, if he even decided to settle
down at all.
     Whistling, he turned down another street and headed for
the bakery he had spotted the night before.  They would have
something to eat, and maybe some coffee, too.
     Entering La Boulangerie de Mer, he glanced around.  It
was a little shop.  Clear glass counters ran alongside almost
the entire wall, leaving just enough room on the right for
someone to get past the counters and behind them.  There was
a soda machine to the left, and the center was filled with
tables, most already filled with people.  Alongside the right
and front walls, there were booths, many of which were empty.
Calib guessed that most people didn't like sitting near the
window while they were eating, for fear that someone from the
street would come up and watch them.
     Calib grinned back at everyone's polite, inquisitive
smiles and sighed.  Small town traps.  He was heading towards
a big city soon, hopefully.  Someplace like New York, New
York, or maybe DC.  New Orleans was also considered in the
running, but he didn't really want to go there, if only to
avoid the gangs and the wanna-be vampires that he had heard
had taken over the streets of the Louisiana party city.
     Just as he neared the counters, the glass windows
shattered in an amazing display of flying shards.  Calib
ducked, trying to avoid being directly hit by the shards.
     "All right!" someone shouted from the front of the
store.  "This is a hold up!!  Everyone, give me all your
money."
     Calib's eyes widened.  In front of him was a tall man,
about six foot one, clothed all in black.  In the man's large
hands was a gun.
     Forget big cities, he thought with a grimace.  You want
crime?  Small town traps have got just what you want.
    Sighing, Calib stepped forward, and attracted the
gunman's attention.  "Hey, you!  You there!  Gimme your
wallet, shitface.  And that watch."
    Calib glanced down at his watch, the watch that had been
passed down the male line of his family since the 1950's.  It
was all he had of his father, and of his grandfather.  There
was no way in hell some robber with a gun was going to get
him to part with it.
    He reached around to his back pocket with his left hand,
making it seem as if he was going to get his wallet, then
brought his right hand to land a punch on the gunmen's nose.
At the same time, he brought his left leg up and kicked the
gun out of the other man's hand.  Then he lunged for the gun,
and grabbed it before the man could get it.
    Kneeing the gunman in the groin, Calib brought him to the
ground and watched him nurse a broken nose.  The blood was
gushing between his fingers, and he imagined that it was a
river, a warm crimson river, that one could drown in if one
wasn't careful.  He could feel something take over him, some
kind of change which he had never before known.  His teeth
felt pointier, his eyes sharper, clearer, and his skin
tingled as if it were alive with electricity.  All his senses
seemed to be heightened, even his tastes.  He thought he
might be able to taste the blood in the air.
    "Mommy, look at his eyes!  They're yellow!" a frightened
child cried.  Calib turned and saw the fear written upon the
young tike's face, plain as the sunlight streaming in through
the broken glass.  Suddenly his senses dulled, and he felt
ordinary, common place.  He realized that everyone was
looking expectantly towards him, watching to see what he'd
do.
    Calib glanced down at the man at his feet.  Aiming the
gun down towards the gunman's head, he squeezed the trigger.
"Now who's the shitface?" he asked the corpse after he turned
the face into a bloody pulp.  Throwing the gun down, he
turned and ran for the street, past the fishermen and their
greetings, to the motel where Tricks was.

    The banging of the door was what brought Tricks out of a
state of deep trance.  For some reason, ever since he and
Calib had left Koswick the day before, he had been having
episodes of meditation-like trances.  He wondered if it
weren't some sort of latent talent that had only surfaced
because he had broken free of the boundaries previously set
by the small mountain town.  Whatever had brought it, the
banging of the door had let it go.
    Tricks sighed, then went to go answer it.  His relief at
it being only Calib vanished at the sight of blood on his
clothes.
    "Did you get in a fight?  I swear, we're only here a
night and a mornin', and already you've made enemies," Tricks
began.
    Calib glanced at him, giving what Tricks had
affectionately dubbed the "Calib eye".  The Calib eye was
similiar to the evil eye, for one exception; the Calib eye
entailed rolling one eye completely back into the head of the
giver.  That was the eye Tricks was receiving now.
    "Best be packin' your things, Tricks," Calib replied.  "I
wasn't in no fight, but I ain't got time to expain everythin'
to you now.  Just know that we've gotta get the hell outta
here, and fast."
    "Why?"
    Calib glanced up from his suitcase, which he had started
packing upon his arrival.  "I told you, we ain't got time to
stay here and talk about things.  I'll tell you on the way
outta town.  Now get packin'."
    Tricks accepted Calib's answer and did as he was told.
Five minutes later, Calib's Ford was tearing out of the motel
parking lot, leaving the darkened tire burns in the asphalt.

~Chapter 5~
*****************************
    The song of the finches brought her from her slumber, a
deep, restful sleep.  It was unlike any sleep she had slept
in over two years, since beginning to write for the Lune de
Soleil.
    Yawning, the author rolled out of the red sheets and
headed for the bathroom.  Once there, she glanced at her
reflection in the spider-cracked mirror.  She squinted and
ran her hand over the likeness of her hair, wondering how it
could be possible.  Her hair was now much darker than it had
been when she fell asleep.  She shook her head, then stepped
into the shower and turned the water on full force, thinking
it might have just been the light.
    Once she was washed and dried, she gathered her things
together and headed for the main office.  Checking out was a
breeze, taking less than five minutes.  The clerk working
there was more helpful than the one that had been working the
last night.
    On the road again, she popped on the radio.  Being in a
different state than her hometown state, she didn't know what
radio stations played what music.  After browsing the
stations for five minutes, she finally decided on one.

"Tonight I feel ambitious
and so does my foot as it sinks on the pedal
I press it to the floor
I don't need a girl, don't need a friend
'cause my friend lonesome's unconditional
We're flying forever more
And for a moment I love everything
That I see and think and feel
I love my broken side view mirror
Cause it's so perfect I'm so perfect
You're so perfect you're not here
I hear the change in gears

My pile shakes as I hit eighty on the open road
This is an open road song
The night is becknoning although I have nowhere to go but
home
Feels good to be alone...."

    Noontime snuck up, and she found herself growing hungry
by the second.  Glancing over at the plastic baggy she had
filled with food before she had left, she saw it was empty.
So she turned at the next exit and looked around for a diner
of some sort.
    It took her half an hour to find it, but there it was.
Lacrima was a small town, but larger than some other towns
she had seen.  It looked like it managed to do very well for
itself, the streets being clean and the walls free of the
graffiti that so many artists liked to spray.
    She stopped her car in front of the local diner and
nodded a greeting to the two men who looked to be the same
age as her.  They let her go in the diner first, the sandy
haired man holding the door open for her.  She nodded again,
in thanks, and walked in, seating herself in the farthest
booth.  A waitress came with a menu and the specails, and she
ordered a cup of coffee.  The waitress soon came back with
it, and she ordered a toasted bagel as well.
    Taking a sip from her mug and setting it back down on the
table, she glanced over at the two young men who had come at
the same time she had.  The sandy haired man who had held the
door for her was staring at her, and she shivered.

    "So, where do you think we'll be headin' next?" Tricks
asked, slicing into his cheesecake.
    "Huh?  What do you think of that lady over there?" Calib
replied, nodding slightly to the woman sitting over at the
farthest booth.
    Tricks glanced behind his shoulder to see a small, dark
haired woman.  "She's all right, I suppose.  Not really my
type, or yours either.   Why?"
    Calib shook his head.  "I'm not sure... there's just
something about her.  Like when you're in a furniture store,
and you're looking for a table, but you can't find one you
like.  Then on your way home, you see a yard sale, and there
you find the perfect table, complete with chairs, for just
the right price."
    "What?"  Tricks was confused.  He had never had need of
buying furniture; his parents had died soon after he turned
eighteen and he had inherited all their stuff.
    "Never mind," Calib replied, shaking his head again and
going back to staring at the woman.
    Tricks waited for a few minutes, eating his cheesecake in
silence, then grew fed up.  "Why don't you just go over there
and talk with her?  Ask her what her name is, and if she'd
like to go out on a date."
    Calib smiled sadly.  "No, I couldn't do that.  Not yet.
Besides, she probably doesn't even notice me."
    Tricks was about to reply when the diner door opened
again, and three men in gray walked in.

    She heard the bell to the diner ring, and glanced up.
Her bagel then stopped in mid-air, right before it reached
her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat.  The only
thing she could do was make little noises, like a dog
whimpering after it was hit.
    She wondered for a split second how They had found her,
then realized the sandy haired man, the one watching her, was
probably working with Them, for Them, and wondered no longer.
Before she could wonder how to escape, the men were upon her,
and were hauling her to her feet.
    Her whimperings growing louder as They dragged her across
the room, and out the door.  The lead man gestured to the
waitress, who had come to see why everyone in the room was
making strange speculating noises.
    "This never happened.  Her food will be paid for, and you
will be paid also, with your life.  This never happened.  Do
you understand?"
    The waitress nodded at the strange man, understanding the
threat he held under his amiable tone.  The rest of the
customers also nodded, and the author felt that all her
efforts of escape had been wasted.  Was no one in the diner
going to help her?

    Calib saw the men grab her, disbelievingly, and heard the
threat the man had issued, however friendly he had delivered
it.  He saw no one get up, not even Tricks, who used to help
everyone he could back in Koswick.
    He began to get up, but backed down quickly once the man
who held the woman whipped out a gun.  "Don't move," the man
warned.
    Calib was about to reply, when he remembered the incident
that morning, back in Whitewater Harbor.  He had faced that
gunman down and killed him, so why couldn't he face this
gunman down and kill him, too?
    The tiny, rational part of his mind still left said that
this was different, that here was three men, and if one was
armed, the others were probably armed too.  He couldn't beat
all three.
    Calib shoved that tiny, rational part away, and let his
instincts take over.  He leapt at the man with a gun, kicking
it away and punching another man in the face at the same
time.  The other man went down holding his face, and when
Calib glanced down at him, he saw there was a thin line of
blood trickling out of his mouth.
    Then it happened again.  The electricity filled the air,
making his skin tingle once again, and his senses sky
rocketed.  He ran his tongue across his teeth, feeling how
pointy they had now become, and attacked, digging his
fingernails, which now seemed like claws or talons, across
his apponents faces, gauging out their eyes.
    The men screamed repetitively, but no one in the diner
would make a move to help them, afraid to risk Calib's wrath.
Even Tricks, who had known him for so many years, was afraid
of him.  A gasp went up from someone, and a woman choked on a
scream towards the back of the diner.
    It began fading again, just like it did in the bakery
when the child cried out and pointed.  He glanced around, and
saw the two dead men at his feet.  The other one must have
fled, Calib decided, seeing the trail of blood that led out
of the diner.  At least he didn't get away clean.
    Glancing up to the woman whose life he had possibly saved
and meeting her eyes, he expected to see the same fear he saw
in the others' eyes, the same fear he saw in the customers'
eyes at La Boulangerie de Mer.  Instead, he saw curiosity,
and maybe a little of the same attraction that he had felt
before.
    Tricks walked up to him, stepping his way carefully
through the two corpses.  "Hey, Calib man, you okay?" he
asked hesitantly.
    Calib tore his gaze away from the woman's grey eyes and
looked instead to Tricks's green ones.  He expected to see
fear there, but saw instead respect and concern.  He should
have known his best friend had been with him too long to be
scared now.  "I'm fine," Calib answered, nodding.
    He then turned back to the young woman, who gazed
blatantly back at him.  "I thank you very much for your help.
 I certainly needed it," she said, in a soft, southern
accent.
    "Only glad I could help," Calib replied.  "The name's
Calib Ashur."  He stuck out his hand in greeting.

    She stared at the offered hand.  Obviously he wanted her
to shake it and tell him her name, but what if he was working
for Them?  Sure, he could have been really sincere about
rescuing her, but he could also have been trying to earn her
trust, to learn of her true name.
    She decided it would be all right if she didn't tell him
her real name, or her pen name, and so determined that it was
all right if she used one of the characters' names, from her
novel.  Not many people had read it, just her editor and
herself, so it would probably be safe to give him one of the
minor characters' names.  "Adaline Kenelm," she replied,
shaking his fist.  "Once again, I thank you, but now I really
have to go."
    Adaline turned, hoping that they would just let her go.
The name wouldn't be important; she would just rent rooms
under another character's name.  They would never be able to
find her again, for whatever reason They wanted her for now.
She would be her own person.
    "Wait!" she heard the man who called himself Calib cry
out.  "Won't I ever see you again?"
    Instead of answering, she continued walking, not
bothering herself to turn around.  But she thought she heard
as she pushed open the door, Calib Ashur's soft sigh, and his
friend's quiet answer.  "When the blood sky shines, and
nothing remembers..."
    Adaline shivered at the words.

~Chapter 6~
*****************************
    Tricks glanced over at his friend, then brought his gaze
quickly back to the road.  Ever since the diner incident,
Calib had become increasingly withdrawn.  He had watched the
woman go, hoping for an answer, and when getting none except
Tricks's ill-timed ominous response, became additionally
upset.  He watched her get into a car, a brand new Intrigue,
and then sighed.  A few minutes later, he paid for their
lunch and waited for Tricks to finish up in the car.  Then he
handed the keys solemnly to his best buddy, and stared out of
the window.
    Now he had been staring out at the landscape for a couple
of hours, and Tricks was becoming worried.  He had never seen
Calib like this, except for that rainy day when they had
agreed to get out of Koswick.
    Tricks wasn't exactly sure what was bothering Calib this
time; it could be that he was upset over the day's events in
general, or that he was upset over the woman, Adaline Kenelm,
and her hasty departure.
    Adaline Kenelm.  It was a funny name, for a very odd
woman.  Tricks silently wondered if it was her real name,
then dismissed the thought as senseless.  Why wouldn't it be
her real name?
    Yet those men in grey had been trying to kidnap her in
broad daylight, in front of many witnesses.  They were
foolish, or they knew something that nobody else did.  Maybe
they were going to blow up the diner after they had left, to
make sure no one opened their mouths about the incident.
    Tricks shook his head, clearing his thoughts.  He was
beginning to sound like those old UFO nuts, with all this
talk of conspiracies, and shadowy deeds.  But then again, in
all those legends and myths, weren't the somber men from the
government all in black, instead of gray?
    His thoughts returned to Ms. Kenelm, and wondered if he
or Calib would ever see her again.  The mysterious gray eyed
woman surely had left an impact on his best friend, and
Tricks hoped for his sake that he either got over her, or
would never see her again.  Then he remembered his words back
in the diner.
    'When the blood sky shines, and nothing remembers....'
Tricks shivered, and wondered if it might have been a
warning of some kind.
    "What's the matter, Tricks?" Calib asked from his near-
fetal position on the passenger's side of the car.  "Someone
just walk over your grave?"
    Tricks frowned.  Calib knew he didn't go for all that
superstitiousness, and yet he constantly said things like
that.  Sometimes Tricks thought he would never understand
what went on in Calib's mind.  "No, just rememberin' my words
earlier, that's all.  You finally awake?"
    "I never went to sleep."  Calib turned and faced Tricks.
"Seriously, though, what do you think those words meant?  You
were after all the one who said them."
    "I know I said them," Tricks replied, grinding his teeth
together, "but I never said I meant them.  They were just an
answer to give to your question."
    "Oh.  Well, I think it was a true answer.  You know
you're psychic, right?"
    "I am not psychic, Calib.  Never have been, never will,
because there's no such thing as psychic powers."  Tricks
focused his growing anger on the road, determined not to let
Calib's questions agitate him.
    "When the blood sky shines, and nothing remembers...
gives me shivers just thinkin' about it.  But they've got to
mean somethin'.  They sound almost like a warning."
    Tricks glanced over at Calib, who gazed back with his
seemingly sincere chocolate brown eyes.  "Say all this is
true.  A warning for what?"
    "I don't know.  Blood sky sounds almost like it means red
sky, and the sky grows red at sunrise and sunset.  That's
probably why the second part is there; to be more specific.
But when does nothing remember?"
    Tricks shook his head.  "I don't know, Calib, it's all
speculation.  And it probably means nothing.  I just said it
on a whim, that's all.  Now, where did you want to head to
next?"
    Calib shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  Something's tellin' me
to head west, so we should probably stop for the night, start
over tomorrow.  There should be an exit from this highway
around here somewhere.