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Woo-hoo! Yes, here it is! Chapter 13, the final chapter
of TWIL Part 2, and the end of the first half of this
mother of a story! I'm so happy. From here on out
is stuff I've written solely in the last five months
and is my best yet. I have really been waiting to
get this out to start bringing the story to a head and
show all my readers exactly why they've given this the
patience and the benefit of the doubt for so long.
This is for you, the faithful, wherever you are.
By far the most intense chapter I've posted so far,
hang on. Good things come to an end.














"Every time a scientist, philosopher, artist or athlete 
 pushes our thresholds to new ground the entire race
 evolves."
                       -tool, aenima











    13

  I stared down through a thin glass plate at an empty 
operating room. The chrome table was only six or eight feet below, 
and the distance would not be a problem. I checked the box of 
surgical scalpels I had liberated, and it was full. I doubted that 
there would be more than two doctors here anyway, and doctors 
are notoriously bad fighters. The only hard part would be taking 
them out without making any noise. White, a scientist, would 
figure this room and event to be the most logical trap for me. 
Obviously I wouldn't come running through the front door, which 
meant that he probably wasn't guarding the room from there. He 
was hiding, waiting, and so was I.

  I got off my stomach, and tried to stand up without hitting 
the laser generator's thick metal housing. The small space was 
extremely dark and cramped, as it was only meant to hold the laser, 
but it suited my purposes fine. I sat back against the thin shelves 
lining the six walls and tried to stretch my feet out. I pushed well 
greased engine parts out of the way and cleared some space to lie 
comfortably. There was little fresh air. I wondered if I had time to 
do anything about it, but kept that thought in its initial stage. The 
operation could take place anytime now, and I was not sure at all 
that Zig would even be awake when he was wheeled in. But this 
now seemed like my only chance. Or at least that was how Alethea 
saw it.
There was a pile of bunched up a rags in a corner a few feet 
away, and I put them between my head and the wall. It was fairly 
dark but I could sense that the air contained dust, which was 
unusual in this place. The Sexton must not visit this room very 
often. Feeling somewhat safer, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. 

  My body was most likely getting back on a normal adult 
male schedule, after having it hastily reborn from the very first cell 
in the merusion chamber. It was evident that a lot more had gone 
on in there than had been planned. Since White's intentions had 
been to bump me off, obviously there was no medical benefit to 
having been awake. The last two places I had been zapped were in 
my head, and I bet my higher level of mental activity was not 
conducive to good results. Everything was messing with my head 
nowadays. 

  And then there was the fact that Alethea killed me, yet here 
I am. She had not understood it either; while monitoring me on a 
lab computer, she must have dismissed my aberrant vital signs as 
products of the merusion which she well knows to be 
unpredictable. But I had been there too, I had been me, and one 
knows when one has died.

  Yes. Very soon know I would understand what had 
happened there, and what I was. I would know everything that had 
ever happened in my past fully and clearly. The closer I got to 
Rufius, the closer that hour of revelation came. And now I had no 
choice but to embrace it in my own way. 

  The tiny room I was in rumbled for a second, stopped, and 
then rumbled again. I had gotten used to it by now, and had learned 
that the infrequent occurrences increased in intensity the higher I 
went in the building, though I had still not come across any 
windows or outside doors. I thought about this, and about how I 
planned on escaping if Zig turned up comatose. There were a 
couple of options, but none appealed to me in any great way. Soon, 
despite the background noise, I fell asleep.

  It must have been about five hours later that I heard the first 
scream. It was the high pitched scream of surprise and pain that we 
emit solely to take our mind of what is happening, and save our 
otherwise-pure train of thought. He took a breath and screamed 
some more, and I was over by the window in a second, jamming a 
red button on the apparatus above me.

  Down on the long white table, Zig's prone body was 
strapped down by the wrists, ankles, and neck. A gray haired man I 
had never seen before wearing full surgical gear leaned over him, 
and made a second slow slice through his lower torso, directly 
below his dark brown sternum. It was just the one doctor that I 
could see, which was unexpected and bad. I only had about thirty 
degrees of view into the room below, and a whole lot of people 
could be hiding in that concealed space.

  Waving to Zig with one hand, I checked the little light on 
the laser housing. Red LED numbers counted down the seconds 
until activation. The timer read ninety-five and counting, which 
was still too much time. I looked back through the little window, 
and kept waving, hoping that he would see me, and hold on a little 
longer.

  The old, frail 'surgeon' made a third inch long incision 
with his scalpel, and I grabbed a hand full of mine. He was cutting 
out a rectangular flap of skin under Zig's ribcage, presumably to 
get at his heart. I had no idea why they had left him awake during 
the process; either to lure me by the sounds or just for sheer 
sadistic pleasure. I could tell that it was neither White or Rufius, 
but seeing him work the steel like that sealed it for me right away. 
Eighty seconds, soon.

  The timer clicked seventy, and I stood up. I took a step 
back, and then jumped as high as I could in the small room, lifting 
both my feet up. I was actually able to push off the ceiling with my 
hands before coming down with both heels on the glass, and 
shattering it underfoot. I writhed and fell down through the small 
circular hole, immediately spreading my legs so that they landed 
on either side of Zig's abdomen. The doctor dropped his tool, and 
fell backwards letting out a surprised yell of his own. I hopped 
onto the floor, and twisted my head around to see across the table.

  There they were, just like I thought they would be. Rufius 
stood in the doorway, not needing to look up to know what was 
happening. Behind him, White kept glancing around his shoulder 
impatiently. It had clearly been a trap but I had not had any choice. 
It was either risk getting caught by them, or wait around while Zig 
got dissected alive. I heard him behind me weakly say my name 
while I watched for Rufius to move. 

  He merely paused, in control, but considering the situation. 
He wore a faint grin.

  Not willing to wait around while he made up his mind, I 
turned, and put the scalpel to the straps which held Zig down. Four 
strokes of the blade, and he was able to grab a sheet from under his 
head and press it to his stomach, then doubling over in pain. I 
looked back at Rufius, certain that he would not let me get any 
farther.

  "Oh how nice," he said in that loud bass voice of his, 
looking like a great water logged cadaver. "You came back for 
your friend." Even his sarcasm sounded premeditated.

  I have never felt inclined to indulge in the 'witty repartee' 
that goes on whenever archenemies come face to face with each 
other for the first time. I yelled "Fuck you!" at the top of my lungs, 
and jammed my entire handful of scalpels into the face of the 
doctor who sat at my feet. They went right into his head and he 
slumped over with a pitiful spasm. If that didn't get this party 
rolling, nothing would.

  "Climb up through the hole," I said over my shoulder to 
Zig. He uttered another groan of protest and held his swollen 
stomach, but I yelled "Do it now!" and he stood up on the table.

  Rufius finally raised his head, and contorted his face into a 
sneering frown. To White, he said, without taking his terrible eyes 
from mine, "You know where to take him. And remember, no 
psionics within the vault." With that, he turned, and left the room. 

  White entered it in his place, gritted his teeth like a starving 
man given raw meat, and cracked his knuckles. "I would... be 
pleased."

  I had been silently counting down the clock in my head, 
and was now at fifteen seconds, far too little time to engage in any 
sort of fight with the man. So I backed up, and climbed onto the 
operating table as White advanced on me. Zig finally pulled 
himself  through the hole in the ceiling, leaving behind a pool of 
blood and fluid. I put my hands through the opening, and jumped 
up, just as White reached forward and put his enormous hand 
around my calf. Six seconds.

  Zig had rolled himself into a sitting position in the corner 
of the hexagonal room above, inspecting his neat wound. I yelled 
to him, and held out my hand which he grabbed. I managed to 
hoist my waist through before White's nails bit into my muscle, 
and my grip faltered. Below, he smiled wider and leaned his mouth 
closer to my leg. There was deadly anthanol dripping from those 
teeth. Two seconds passed and I heard the laser generator above 
me hum to life. A smooth metal disc slid back into its case, 
revealing a small lens.

  "Pull!" I yelled to Zig, and he did so as hard as he could. I 
saw a white dot appear on the leg that White was now trying to 
yank back into the operating room. I got my other foot all the way 
through and pushed off the rim of the opening. Whites grip slipped 
on my blood; tore right through my pants, yanked off my boot, and 
I flew upward. Half a second later his hands were grabbing the 
sides after me, and I saw his head poke up. Anthanol spilling out of 
his saliva glands, he started to say something to me. Cradling my 
calf, I sneered.

  The timer hit zero, and the white light from the 
semitransparent lens red shifted. Voltage surged within a 
long cylindrical tube, causing argon gas to release high energy 
X and Z rays in a focused beam. Earlier, I had used a panel to 
raise the standard power outage by ten thousand percent.

  The beam ran right through White's body. His skin flash-
boiled while he cried out in surprise, falling down out of sight. I 
backed up as quickly as I could to get away from the heat and 
rancid vapors which steamed out of the circular hole. Zig and I 
pulled ourselves up, and broke out of the small room's only door.

  "You think he's dead?" Zig asked dropping the soiled sheet 
from his stomach, and replacing it with my clean shirt which I 
handed him.

  "That was the plan," I said while limping along, my right 
calf torn and bleeding. "Those things put out a lot of juice. I guess 
it depends on whether Rufius gets to him. It could probably go 
either way."

  "Jesus."

  "We have to get out of here while we have the chance."

  "Right."

  "Alethea talked to this guy called the Sexton, and he is 
going to let us follow him to the building's uppermost level. From 
there we are going to steal a car and get the fuck outta Dodge."

  "You found Alethea?"

  "Yeah, she showed me where you were."

  "What did she say? I mean I saw her briefly when they 
threw my ass in a cell, and she was acting really strange. Why is 
she here anyway?"

  As we took turns and staircases, I explained to Zig about 
Alethea's involvement with Wells, White, and the psionics. I told 
him about how she was working with the cops to try to get some 
government help in on assassinating Rufius, who had become 
public enemy number three. I told him about Chris and the old 
woman being just as bad, in Alie's opinion. Zig confirmed the 
story with one of his own, about how it had been Chris, and the 
oriental woman Linn who delivered us both into Rufius' hands. I 
knew this already. The Cabal had been a bomb waiting to go off.

  Zig said he had wondered why White and I hadn't started 
blasting each other back in the operating room, and I admitted that 
I was not totally sure. White had refrained under Rufius' orders, 
and was blatantly scared of the man. As for me, something worse 
than my brain had gone wrong in the merusion chamber, and none 
of us were exactly sure to what extent. But I could use the power 
no longer. Zig's explanation of how he found me curled up at the 
feet of a cadaver that could have stood as my twin made very little 
any clearer.

  We finally found the elevators that Alethea had shown me, 
and pushed the button for the highest level. While we waited, and 
panted from the running, Zig asked, "So where are we, really? We 
were taken at the new Mental Health Research building, and this 
ain't it."

  "No, I finally figured it out. We must be under Lanz Island 
again. The Sexton called it the 'Apothecary.' All the pipes and 
machinery, it's all like the stuff we saw when I rescued you the last 
time. That's the only place a compound of this size could go 
unnoticed by the public."

  "Yeah, you're one up on me again." he said. "But if we're 
under Lanz Island, isn't this place about to be to thick with the 
heat? I mean, the whole Island is one big Special Forces 
government bee-hive."

  "I don't think so, or at least not right now. All the rumbling 
and shaking you heard is the sound of Tank Division salvoes, 
topside. Ghast and the rest of his platoon have surrounded the 
place, and are tearing it down from without under the old woman's 
orders. When we get out of here, we're gonna be in the middle of a 
riot war. We just try to sneak away unnoticed and stay away from 
everyone until the Coup reaches some level of temporary 
stability."

  "Are you sure about that? You don't think the police are 
actively looking for us right now?" he asked, skeptically.

  "No, you can't quote me on any of this. But it's our best 
and only bet."

  Ages later, the elevator stopped and we limped out. I had 
lifted a small first aid kit from a closet, and Zig and I dressed our 
wounds. Neither were very deep as the surgeon had not penetrated 
much of Zigwell's muscle, but it slowed us down immensely, and I 
did not think I could get in another fight without weapons. I had a 
makeshift map of the Apothecary's top floor drawn on a napkin, 
and I followed the little arrows to where they said a certain door 
would be. Sure enough, we found it and beyond was the Sexton, 
pacing back and forth.

  He saw me and shouted, "*There* you are! And you made it 
too." He looked Zig up and down. "I'm the Sexton. I was told they 
were going to vivisect your ass. I am glad to see you're okay."

  "Thanks, I'm good. One of the old me might be dead right 
now, but someone will still be looking for us real soon." Zig 
shifted around on his feet apprehensively. We were in a large 
enclosed loading bay for cargo trucks, and it contained one such 
vehicle to our right. There were a few laborers milling around 
checking crate labels, so we stayed out of sight behind the 
doorway. On the far side was a wide tunnel which presumably led 
up to ground level.

  The Sexton took off his worn black cap, ran his fingers 
through graying hair, and squinted in the dim florescent light. We 
were all tired. "I tried to find the car that takes me home at night, 
but it hasn't come yet, and it has been a half hour. I think Rufius 
figured you two might try for it, and hasn't sent it around. But I 
have another plan. This truck is dropping off medical supplies and 
equipment here, but when it is done, it heads back to the east side 
warehouses in the city. You can stow away in the trailer, and ride it 
out."

  The cargo trucks of the type he referred to are single units 
almost ninety feet long, and are so heavy that they cannot start 
from rest under their own power. Smaller trucks are used to pull 
them until they reach forty mph or so when the tow chains are 
dropped, and the truck can make a trip across the city, or out to 
Lanz Island along the freight line. Only cargo trucks are allowed 
on the freight line which parallels the train tracks between the city 
and Lanz Island, and there are gates at either end which regulate 
the transit. Stowing away in one would be risky, because White 
could spot the vehicle on any electronic map or city scheme. But it 
would have to do.

  "Do you have any guns?" I asked.

  "No, I can't help you there. Believe me, those things won't 
help you." 

  The Sexton looked at the truck, where an automated pallet-
jack carried large crates out of the trailer. He said, "White's 
daughter talked to me this morning, and I realized I had wanted to 
do this for a long time. The paychecks are nice, no doubt. But it 
isn't worth it, being in fear of my life all the time, and watching 
other people get it for the amusement of my boss. You wouldn't 
believe some of the things they've asked me to mop up; I won't go 
into it. Just do me a favor, and I'm real serious." The crass old man 
turned back toward me. "Don't ever come back here again. You've 
seen what happens; you can't change a fraction of what you think 
you can. Stay away from Rufius and White. Whatever you are up 
to isn't worth your lives, or the life of the young lady. I've learned 
that much from a lifetime in this city. Will you do me that favor?"

  I put my hand on the man's shoulder, and said, "We'll do 
what we can, guy. I can't promise anything, so no bullshit. But 
trust us, we are doing the right thing.

  "Thanks for your help, Sex. We won't forget it," Zig added.

  The old man shrugged and nodded. "Well, I tried. Anyway, 
the truck looks like it's almost empty. You'd better hop in the back 
before the driver gets here. I wish you luck."

  We said our goodbyes, and Zig and I rushed between the 
forklifts into the huge trailer. There was the sound of car doors 
slamming while voices from without suggested that the driver of 
the tug had arrived from somewhere. We waited in near darkness 
as tow chains were attached, and after a minute the auto-jack came 
back one last time to shut the cargo doors. We had found safe 
places to hide near the front of the trailer. The light from outside 
slimmed down to a crack; was extinguished. The lock clicked, and 
we were shut in. I searched for Zig in the dark with a whisper.

  "We should get moving any minute now. So don't make 
any noise."

  "I know, I know. Just make sure you don't knock anything 
over."

 I rolled my eyes. A second later the truck lurched into 
motion, and I felt pulled back. The truck began and continued to 
accelerate, and it felt like we were going up the ramp which lead 
out of the complex. I felt around me, and my hand rested on a 
small cardboard box. Feeling around inside revealed several heavy, 
metal canisters. I tried to make out the label, but it was too dark. 
After a minute I crawled forward to where Zig was leaning against 
the side wall. He looked tense.

  "Hey, you got a lighter or something on you?"

  "Why, you wanna smoke in here?"

  "No, you dick," I said. "I want to read the label on this 
canister. There's a box of them over there; I think it's a fire 
extinguisher or something."

  "I had a zippo in my jacket before they took it. I'm only 
wearing pants, remember."

  "How's the gut?"

  "I'll live, though I'll definitely be needing stitches. What 
were you waiting for, back there?"

  "In the E.R.?" I shrugged. "I had to wait until the timer on 
the surgical laser counted down far enough so that White wouldn't 
have time to follow through. I popped the thing into high power for 
max damage. It was a makeshift plan at best, but then I didn't have 
a lot of other options."

   "What would have happened if I had been comatose? You 
couldn't push me up through the hole and fight off those two at the 
same time!" Zig whispered loudly in the dark.

  I shrugged. "Then we both would have been real unhappy. 
Don't think about it. We made it here, didn't we? And my leg is 
just as fucked up as your belly. Quit your whining."

  "Whining? You're the one who-"

  "Wait!" I said suddenly, and held up my hand. "What's that 
noise?"

  "My foot cocking back to-"

  "No, no. Listen. On top of the truck. I'm serious."

  Zig shut up, and we listened intently for a second. It 
sounded like footsteps on the roof, but they were very light, and 
very slow. I pointed upwards, and mouthed the word "White?" to 
Zig. He returned an unsure look, and we continued to listen.

  The truck was still traveling at a steep angle up the ramp, 
and if someone were on top of the trailer, they must have been 
crawling on their hands and knees. We followed the slight tapping 
up to where the trailer itself stopped, and the rear of the cab began. 
There was a small screened window here, and I wiped off black 
soot to see through it. From the little I could see, a fat middle aged 
trucker was sitting back, listening to his radio while a tug truck 
pulled us up through the winding tunnel. I still couldn't see any 
daylight, so we were still a few stories underground. Zig squinted 
through the tiny window with me. 

  He whispered, "What's going on?" 

  I shook my head. "I don't know."

  The tapping on the roof stopped right above us, and I 
suddenly got a very bad feeling. "Get away from the window," I 
said in a loud whisper. It wasn't likely that our voices could be 
heard in here, but I wasn't taking chances. Zig and I backed up, 
and I handed him one of the heavy fire extinguishers.

  Then we heard a crash, and the sound of metal being 
twisted. Through the window I saw the driver look up with 
surprise. He sat straight up, took his hands off the wheel and then 
started thrashing around. A long white arm reached down through 
the cab's sunroof, and grabbed him by the head with one hand. He 
was lifted out. 

  White lowered himself all the way down into the front seat, 
and looked me in the eyes.

  Zig yelled "Shit it's him!" and I shared the feeling. White's 
face and neck had partially melted, and reminded me of crayons 
left out in the sun. Now completely hairless, his grotesque skin had 
taken on a grayish tone. Missing an eye, he didn't look even 
remotely man-like anymore. I ducked onto the floor and hoped he 
wouldn't start blasting at me.

  White pulled back, and punched through the glass. He 
cleared shards out with his long nails, and Zig took this 
opportunity to swing the fire extinguisher down on Whites hand. It 
connected with a thud, but White grabbed hold with a flick of the 
wrist. Zig resisted for a second, but let go when White took a 
swipe at his arm. The red can was pulled through the window, and 
White threw it behind him. He showed me his pointed teeth again, 
but beyond that, I could not tell the expressions on his disfigured 
face.

  "Anyone else having d�j� vu?" Zig asked. "Didn't we just 
go through this?"

  "Yeah," I replied. "But look. See? I don't think he can fit 
through the window. Just stay back."

  And it was true. The small rectangle fit his arm and 
shoulder, but the man's head could not be forced through. I felt a 
little safer for the moment. White realized this as I said it, and 
retracted himself. Fluid dripped out of his mouth freely, yet he still 
gargled, trying to speak.

  "Digghhh."

  "What was that?" Zig asked.

  "I think he said 'Die,' but I don't know." I took a step back, 
and reflexively put out a hand to steady myself as the truck went 
around a corner. The driver of the tug must have been blissfully 
oblivious to what was going on, but I could see no way of alerting 
him. White watched us as we watched him, a few feet back, myself 
ready to put a boot in his jaw if he got any closer. We all rumbled 
along in the dim light of a back-lit screen on the cab's dash.

  White pulled his head back from the opening and turned 
around. I figured he was going to pull out a weapon or call Rufius 
on the truck's radio. But he pulled his charred arm back once 
again, and pushed out the windshield. It fell out in one piece. 
White bent forward. The truck's hood extended a good three feet 
beyond, and White began to lean out onto it. I didn't know what he 
was doing, but I figured now was a good time to hide. I put my 
back to the wall behind another cardboard box, and Zig did the 
same. We waited.

  There were several loud clanking noises before there was a 
snap, and the truck suddenly decelerated. I could tell we were 
losing forward momentum quickly, and secretly glancing through 
the small opening, I saw the tug pull away from us. White had cut 
the tow chains. The cargo truck slowed to a stop, paused 
melodramatically, then started rolling backwards. Rolling back 
down the ramp, the truck began to gain serious speed. White put 
his head back at the window and stared into, and through, the 
darkness, while I held my breath in an insecure hiding place.

  "I shee yoogh," he said more audibly, more maniacal. 

  Zig's eyes flicked over to me and they betrayed a worried 
expression.

  "What do we do?" he whispered.

  I thought about it, and said, "You better brace yourself. 
When the truck hits the loading platform at the bottom, it's gonna 
be flying into the trailer doors that will be the real problem." 

  "Shit, oh shit! We're trapped!"

  "I know-"
  
  "I don't want to be a cripple! People ain't gonna buy shit from a 
freak in a wheelchair!"

  "Zig, do you think you could-"

  "I'll tell you exactly what I think! I think that Sexton guy 
was bad all along! I mean, driverless car, *my ass!*"

  You couldn't talk to him when he got like this. I gathered a 
few smaller boxes together, and put them at my feet. Then I laid 
back, motioning Zig to do the same. The truck picked up more and 
more speed, and I tried to guess at how much time we had. With 
any luck, though, White would characteristically overestimate 
himself, and be unprepared. My stomach knotted itself as I felt the 
floor accelerate.

  White was having trouble spitting, but said, "You can't 
hide from me...you ants." He wheezed deeply. "You still have a 
transmitter in your skull. All of this is useless."

  I said nothing.

  "I tracked you...here, and even if you survive...you-"

  He was abruptly cut off by the collision in question. Zig 
and I were thrown forward through the boxes we had stacked, each 
of us yelling in anticipation. Cushioned slightly, I hit the cargo 
door with a crash as it broke inward and fell apart. A instant later 
my discarded fire extinguisher flew into my back, sprawling me as 
I fell out of the trailer and onto dark asphalt. Zig slid cleanly out 
between the door panels, and I heard him hit the raised loading 
platform rolling. I waited for the sound of an explosion but the 
truck, which had bounced after the initial jolt, appeared otherwise 
undamaged. I lifted my head up.

  Looking toward the back of the trailer, I saw White half in 
and half out of the tiny window. His inertia had jammed him 
through the hole, and he was trying to writhe out. His one eye 
focused on me, and he made a rasping sound that could have been 
a chuckle. I guess he had a sense of humor buried in there 
somewhere; his stunt had cost him more than I. I almost smiled 
myself, but remembered that White's rejection of psionics would 
only stretch as far as he thought his life would.

  Not wasting anytime, I dragged myself to my feet, and 
hobbled over to where Zig was lying. He rolled onto his back, and 
grunted at me.

  "Are we dead?" he said, I think even a little seriously.

  "Not yet, so don't jinx it. We gotta get movin." I helped 
him up, and he was able to move without trouble. We got to the 
door we had come through earlier, and went inside. At the other 
end of the hall was the elevator, which we made for as fast as our 
injured bodies would take us. I had hurt my other leg in the crash 
as well, forcing me to hold onto Zig's shoulder just to move. I 
looked behind me to see if White had freed himself yet; the hall 
was empty so I assumed he hadn't. Zig pressed the elevator button 
and cursed at the thing to move faster.

  At last the doors opened, and we went in. Opting for the 
lowest indicated basement level, Zig and I finally sat down on the 
clean carpeted floor, and breathed heavily. I wanted to put as great 
a distance as possible between me and the berserk. Zig agreed.

  "What now?" he asked, finally.

  "I don't know, man. I'm out of ideas. I have no idea where 
another exit is, and now Rufius wants us both dead, with no 
questions asked. There's no way to contact Alethea or Chris even 
if we wanted to, and neither one of us can fight in our condition. 
Plus, we have no weapons. Not even a damn scalpel to poke him 
with. White is going to tear us into pieces, and I don't know what 
to do about it."

  "Think of something."

  "I got *nothing.*"

  "Shit, man. You always have a plan. Think of *something!*"

  "Why don't you think of something?!"

  "I'm not really the leader type." He grinned. "I like to work 
from the background and let people think I just came along for the 
ride. Makes them feel more confident in themselves."

  "So I guess that makes you my sidekick."

  "Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" 

  He laughed. So did I for some reason. 

  "Damn, I wish I had a cigarette."

  I searched my pockets. "All I have is a old stogie. From 
like a month ago."

  "KBJ?"

  "Think so."

  "Give it here," he said. He knew I didn't have a light, so he 
just chewed the end. "If I go, at least it won't be on my knees."

  So I tried to think of something. It wasn't working. I felt 
like tearing my hair out. The elevator rumbled to a stop, and we 
got out. Walking along the hall, Zig and I both listened for the 
sound of Wells running around. It would be easy for him to figure 
out what floor the elevator car had stopped at, and I wondered 
what was taking him so long. Even after the crash, he should be 
able to heal himself somewhat by virtue of his psionics, or so it had 
been explained to me. Obviously something had been done within 
the last hour after I fried his head. I kept walking down the long, 
long hall, thinking it seemed familiar like so many other things in 
that place.

  "He's stalking us," I said suddenly, a light going on in my 
head. "This is what he does, I can tell. He lets us run around like 
rats is his maze thinking we lost him, and then corners us when we 
have nowhere else to go. No more cards up our sleeve to confuse 
him."

  "Yeah, and we've kicked his pasty ass every time so far."

  "I have a strong feeling our luck is running out. Listen, I 
think I actually know where we are. This is where they took me to 
test my power. There is a room at the end of this hall filled with 
computers which the Sexton said were very important. Maybe we 
can threaten to smash a few of them if White doesn't leave us 
alone."

  "Where have you been?" said Zig. "He doesn't care about 
the computers!"

  "Maybe so. But one thing I remember Alethea telling me 
was that Rufius and White had been building a machine 
somewhere down here for years. I bet they would think twice about 
letting us destroy it."

  "Do you know where it is?"

  I thought to myself. "You know, I think I do. Come on."

  The two of us picked up the pace, and jogged down the 
hall. It really was about four hundred yards to the end, and the pain 
in my leg made it seem even longer. At the end, I saw that the door 
was closed again, and I hoped the Sexton hadn't locked it.

  He hadn't. With a sigh of relief I stepped into the chilly 
room, and looked across all the computer consoles to the other side 
of the room. There were the three metal doors, which guarded the 
entrance to another room of obvious importance.

  "What's 'Yuma'?" Zig asked, following my eyes.

  "No idea. Looks like a large vault, and those doors look 
solid." We walked up to them, and got a closer look. There was a 
large number dial, and the little screen had a message scrolling 
across which instructed to enter in the correct combination. I was 
under too much stress to think up any clever plans. I looked at Zig. 

  "Any ideas?"

  "How the hell would I know??"

  "Think back. Have you seen anything down here that 
looked relevant?"

  "Relevant? *To What?!* *Math??*" He gestured wildly. 

  "To anything! We're fucking stranded! I need some 
fucking help here!"

  Zig turned and looked at me straight. "Screw. Do you have 
any idea what all this is doing to me? Do you have any idea how 
hard it is to even rationalize people like White in my head? You do 
all this crap for a living! I'm just a human being, for god's sake!"

  In that second, I don't know why or how, but I resisted the 
terrible urge to beat him with every bit of my strength and anger. 
My voice stammered. My eyes blinked, trying to block out this 
latest disloyalty. "You don't think I'm a man?!"

  "Don't look at me like that, Screw. You know you're 
something different. I don't know what, but you're not like me. 
You're not something that comes with the standard set. Don't 
demand that I empathize with you for *everything.*"

  I felt like crying. "I am a man. You're my closest friend in 
the world and you don't know shit about me if you don't know 
that."

  He looked away and shrugged. "Jesus fucking Christ, we're 
never gonna get out of here."

  I backed away and sat on a desk. 

  I was willing to bet that if I had known more about 
computers, one of these things could have done the job. Zig knew 
even less than I did, so there was no point in asking him. Plopping 
my chin down into my hand, I tried to think, utilizing the problem 
solving skills us leaders were supposed to have. The only people 
who could open the lock were trying to kill me. Only by opening 
the lock could I hope to kill them, or die trying. This was so bad.

  Zig, across from me, stood in front of the door and 
examined the handle. He had been riveted there for quite a while 
when I noticed he had dropped the cigar. I decided to get up and 
see what interested him so much, when I realized I couldn't move 
either. I panicked, struggled to fight it, but I was in thrall again 
sitting frozen like my buddy the Thinker. My heart was unbound, 
though, and it raced in fear. I didn't want it to end like this.

  White stepped into view and surveyed the cornered prey. The 
corners of his mouth turned up in a sick grin. But he didn't say 
anything yet. Putting a hand on the dial, he spun to the left, then 
the right, and back and forth until the door clicked. Eighteen, forty-
nine, twenty-one, twenty two. The number meant nothing to me. 
Spinning the handle, the door opened slowly and heavily. He 
turned back to me.

  "Funny...I would have thought you to run around 
looking...for my daughter the first chance you had." He picked me 
up effortlessly with one hand, grabbed Zig with the other, and 
carried us both inside the vault. He then dropped us both on the 
floor, and shut the door behind him. A second later, and I could 
move again.

  Inside was the single biggest machine I had seen yet. 
Taking up the half the space of a basketball court, its complexity 
put the rest of the rooms I had seen underground to shame. There 
were integrated computer parts, and rows of metal cylinders like 
spider eggs on rotting wood, humming away with almost visible 
energy and power. Mainframes and holo-screens sitting next to 
wires and pulleys. A Rube Goldberg torture chamber. All of it 
leading, like clockwork, to an immense donut-shaped metal ring 
set into the floor many yards away, where rotating gears and chain 
belts whizzed in perfect time. It gave off something like the 
thickened dank atmosphere I had felt when I had been in the 
merusion chamber. Even the floor tickled my skin as it vibrated 
under a tiny frequency of its own. But the overall purpose escaped 
me. I looked up questioningly at White.

  "God, what is it?"

  He actually smiled, for the first time. "It is my final 
masterpiece." His voice suddenly had changed to deep accented 
English without the pauses for breath, apparently upon entering 
into the vault. I did not understand. Yet acting like nothing had 
changed, he walked up to the small railing which separated open 
floor space from the huge cogs and levers which could take off 
someone's arm.

  He stared at the stainless steel toroid that was the egg in a 
nest of briars, and spoke to the room almost absently. "Sixty-one 
years ago, I was approached by a man in whom I felt more 
intelligence, mystery, and life than I had ever experienced before. 
And I can sense such things very clearly. I was merely a lab rat in 
the eyes of the IMHR at the time, but I had ambitions, and Rufius 
told me he could use them. He took me as his prot�g�, and we 
worked for years on the subject of human psycho-medular activity, 
something no scientist had ventured into before. We used X, Y, 
and Z-ray radiation to stimulate vestigial survival glands from 
man's earliest years in volunteer patients. Rufius somehow knew 
that this certain area of the brain, the pineal gland, held the secrets 
of psionics, and the two of us chased them obsessively. 

  "When I had the first breakthrough that my imbecile peers 
could not in good conscience refute, I had already been promoted 
to Mandate Director of the whole Mental Health Research 
program. I was able to set all the Institute's available personnel to 
work on it immediately, and without knowing toward what end 
they individually toiled. I admit I dared not tell them. In seven 
years I developed merusion, and was able to begin testing it on 
convicts and sanctioned laborers. I told the rest of the Mandate that 
it was for criminal reeducation. I was cheered for my efforts at 
cleaning up the city's underlying scum and was able to retire here 
in what became the Apothecary, the abdomen of Lanz Island, 
pursuing my work without any administrative interference.

  "No, Rufius never underwent the process himself. He had 
that part of his own mind subjugated long before he found me. A 
genetic freak I imagine, but a genius nonetheless. The power was 
his from the start. There were many failures in our first batch of 
test subjects; brain death, multiple personality syndrome, and a 
host of others which even now have not been completely 
eradicated. But one day we got it right. Not wanting to leave any 
loose ends, Rufius and I slaughtered all that had been tested 
beforehand, and then used the chamber on me. I was the first to 
survive the process, maturing fully."

  He looked at me. "You had the power for a short while, you 
know what it is like." He smiled broadly. "Completely...
indescribable."

  I said nothing.

  "You would think my family would have been behind me. 
You would think they would have congratulated my 
accomplishments, and wished me luck. I gave them the ability to 
do whatever they wanted forever, power beyond which this city 
has never seen. And they called it psycho-sodomy, damning it their 
language, finally running away to waste my money on the foolish 
pursuits of pleasure. I should have executed them too." He sighed 
deeply as he remembered his earlier instants of indecision.

  Zig and I glanced at each other, and I sat up. White didn't 
turn around. Zig saw White standing before the Yuma machine, 
paused in thought. As for myself, this sudden openness was much 
stranger to me then White's change in tone. Nothing had me 
believing that the villain ever really reveals his plans at the very 
end, but I was not sure that was the case here. The hero reveals his 
conviction as well; could it be that White spoke to counter my 
obvious judgment? Or was it just that he knew one of us was going 
to die tonight, and that there are certain obeisances which must be 
observed. Exegesis of the life, before it is justified with death. 
He may have thought he was doing my soul a favor.

  "When does it end?" I asked. "When do you reach the limit 
of useful science and turn back, knowing that the goals of life can 
now only be fulfilled by hard work alone? You are a scientist, and 
meddling in the inherent creative process is not in your purpose. 
Learning, changing maybe, but not undoing."

  "I also once thought as you, Screwtape. Or you go by 'Screw' 
now, sorry. I asked Rufius if I had the *right* to go forward 
where my nature told me to hold back. And he told me that you 
cannot learn without doing. He was right. Advancement is my 
ideology now. The possibility could not exist without the 
probability. I will carry this to its end."

  "And if it means killing your friends and family, then they 
are a small price to pay, right?" I said, getting angry.

  "Unfortunately so. There are purposes for everything and 
everyone. Yours was to serve Rufius, and you failed, so you must 
die. The slate will be wiped clean so that another may fill your 
place. My purpose is to construct; minds, people, and the whole 
city. Rufius was placed here to rule, because he had the gift first. It 
is his to give, and his to take away."

  I stood up, and took a step forward. Zig was also on his feet 
now, looking at us.

  "Listen to you!" I said. "You say that advancement is your 
creed but you let Rufius move you like a pawn! What happened to 
your ambition? Can't you 'advance' beyond mere service and into 
a purpose that you choose for yourself? Who is Rufius to decide 
whether any of us live or die, merely because he is higher on the 
food chain? Advancement is the backbone of equality, and that the 
cornerstone of freedom. You could do so much good with your 
knowledge, for yourself, not to mention others. You could wholly 
satisfy your ambitions and your desires, which currently only serve 
someone else's. Isn't every living thing endowed with a glimpse of 
heaven which they spend their whole lives trying to foolishly 
attain? Why his glimpse and not yours, just because fate has 
favored his means? 

  "At some point life just has to be lived, damn it!"

  He turned around, and was uninterested in the fact that I 
was within five feet of him. It was a disinterest that I felt in his 
body language. He said calmly, "When our plan finally comes to 
fruition, Rufius will cast aside my merusion chambers and though 
he does not say it, he will cast me aside as well. I know this; I am 
not afraid. Because it is what must be. The new species must 
destroy the old to live and flourish, and that is true advancement. 
Faith, honor, and nobility are real, yes, but they only advance what 
already is. It is evil, taking both sides of the coin equally, that 
carries life to where it has never been before. Evil is the mover; 
good, the mere place-holder." 

  And he said this last thing while looking at the machine, for 
a second almost looking wistful. "You are so vain. And yet Rufius 
accepted that. He wanted to you're your power and your will so 
that the limitless expanses of good would be unsoiled in your heart. 
He was sucking up all the evil power to leave you with the helpless 
good. You would have been the one to see the future. Only you, 
and not ever me." 

  Oh sweet Jesus. Upon his mentioning it, I suddenly 
remembered thousands of conversations I had had with the man 
Rufius in my past. A sudden deluge of feelings and regrets. Those 
last words from White had been correct, if none of the rest. I 
pictured Rufius in my mind, imagining himself on a cross so that I 
would be free. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't speak I still 
needed one more bit of information to put it all together and 
answer for me why Rufius knew the future of reality on this planet 
rested on the lives of him and me. 

  White looked at the blood on his nails. "But such is the 
path of our mysterious little gift. Everyone must make way for life, 
and I can serve life best by fulfilling my purpose. Dying is just a 
part of it. Rufius knows what is best, he has proved that much to 
me already. But I do not expect you to understand, Screw. When I 
found you, you were a mere shell of a man. Your purpose had been 
bent and twisted, and your fragile id could not absolve itself. I gave 
you a new purpose, and a new life to justify all the ones you had 
wasted before. I created you for the last time, Screw, and you 
failed me."

  Zig's mouth opened, and looked from me to White. "What? 
What the fuck are you talking about? Screw, what does he mean by 
that?"

  Again, I wanted to but couldn't speak. White saw this and 
continued with a grin.

  "So your memory has finally come together, neh? You 
know how our mercenary Mr. Chris Dais trained you in an 
underground cell, where you served time for a crime you had not 
been alive to commit? Do you remember the chamber, and the 
tests, and the human guinea pigs that we--you and I, Screw-
killed together? Do you remember the blood and pain caused by 
the power *you* had, that *you* initially used, laughing at your limits 
just like I did?" He smiled. "Yes, I think you do remember that, 
don't you Screw."

  I tried to swallow with out choking. "Yes." I said.

  "Shut the fuck up, old man!" said Zig from much closer 
than he had been a minute ago. 

  White watched the two of us and laughed. "Calm down, 
Zigwell. I am surprised he never told you. Screw and I used to be 
partners. We worked together on the Yuma, and it is as much his 
creation as it is mine. I gave him the power, and he served Rufius 
alongside Wells and I, as our superior. Or maybe he just forgot to 
mention it."

  Zig was now shaking me by the shoulders, and yelling into 
my face. "Screw! He's just mind-fuckin you, man! You didn't kill 
anybody! Tell me you didn't kill anybody!"

  Well pushed him aside, and put his own hand on my 
shoulder. "Oh, I'm saddened. I guess you really don't know about 
his past, Zigwell. Tell me. You met Screw on the racing circuit?"

  "Yeah," Zig said, lowering his eyebrows.

  "And how old was he? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

  "Nineteen," Zig answered again.

  White stepped forward so that all three of our faces were 
within a foot of each other. The triangle closed to a few inches. He 
appeared to suddenly become very angry and growled in his low 
bestial voice. "And you really believed that he became the city's 
top Gold Cup driver in his rookie year, *at the age of nineteen?!?*"

  Zig's face contorted.

  "You were a fool, Zigwell! A fool! Only a know-nothing 
fool such as you would have believed the lines of utter shit that 
Chris and I fed you, while you spent two years in Detox for heroin 
addiction. You had an even weaker, more malleable mind than we 
could have hoped for. Screw here was never your friend before his 
prison sentence. He is an undying parasite who jumps from life to 
life giving up his past and his memories to fill a new position that a 
stronger will always chooses for him. Rufius' will. One of the 
other four immortals." He laughed again. "And you can't even find 
the grounds to distrust me anymore because Screw admits it now! 
Don't you, Screw! Because you had never raced a car in his life, 
had you, Screw?"

  "No." I said weakly.

  "And you had never fired an energy weapon or killed a 
bunch of gangboys, had you?!"

 "No." I said again.

  White was screaming now. "And you never spent six years 
in jail with a mister Chris Dais, or sold drugs to the other inmates, 
or taught yourself to daydream about racing, did you?!!

  "No."

  "Because you never killed your father! You never HAD a 
father! Or a mother, or a childhood home, or a go-cart for your 
fucking eleventh birthday! Your name isn't even Screw!!! I made it 
all up this time, didn't I? I made up every last god damn bit of 
character you ever had in your whole shitty four-year life, and you 
begged me on hands and knees do it all. You begged me, and I 
granted it. In return for this release into obscurity and deliverance 
from the hell you wrought working Rufius' evil alongside him, you 
swore your life to me, before everything you held sacred in heaven 
and hell and now you betrayed me!"

  No!! It couldn't have happened that way! Could it??

  "DIDN'T YOU?!!!" he bellowed in my face.

  My mouth was open. "--ah--ahh...I--" And then I 
stumbled backwards into the vault door, and slid down onto the 
floor. He was right. My guilt was there. Rufius' pawn from day 
one. Accepting White's latest made up self in return for the guilt it 
would take away from me. The guilt of living for the Holy God Of 
Power as Rufius had. 

  White's gaze lost its rigid intensity, and he spit in my face. 
"They have the ninth ring of hell reserved for people like you," he 
said, and turned away.

  I was crushed.

  Zig, who could not believe what he was hearing cried 
"No!!" and threw himself into White as he came closer to the mess 
of surrealistic machinery. They went down together on the floor, 
and White's forehead slapped against the ground. It again sounded 
like a metallic clank, but Zig paid no attention. Maneuvering, he 
pounced on White's back, and began slamming his misshapen 
skull repeatedly into a spinning gear belt with all of his adrenaline-
induced might. White's arms flailed wildly at his sides, razor sharp 
claws raking across Zig's legs and back. But still my boy kept 
fighting, single minded as one gets.

  White pulled his hands in suddenly and shot his torso off 
the floor. Zig, straddling his back, was flung against the ceiling and 
fell. Pristine linoleum floor-plates cracked under the pressure of 
White's psionic concentration; then he blinked and dropped back 
to the ground, and brought a fist down on the almost decorative 
railing that separated him from Yuma's more threatening anatomy.

  "You fucking little ant!" he yelled.

  Zig groaned in the corner and wiped spittle from his black 
goatee. I could see his bandaged stomach darken as his wounds 
were reopened. His eyes fluttered but he stayed down, hunched 
over the railing.

  White continued, "You aren't worth your weight in shit to 
me! I could end you with a thought! What were you planning on 
doing when-"

  "Shut up--" Zig stood, leaned back away from the 
machine, and put his back against the steel door that had admitted 
us.

  "What was that?!" White screeched. He stood up, and 
immediately showed he had taken damage to the face from Zig's 
blows. He hopped lightly on one foot, and brought the other 
savagely into Zig's back. He smiled, pleased at the cry he received. 
"You are my dog, to beat whenever the inclination arises. Unlike 
Screw who actually held worth at one time, when I kill you it will 
be as if you never existed. No one will ever remember. The lunacy 
with which you attack is enraging. 

  "I am insulted that you even try." 

  White kicked again, and Zig rolled over against my side. I, 
who sat curled up in another corner, looked down with fear and 
apprehension. (Get up, boy! Get up!) I yelled silently. (This is one of 
those times!) Zig put a weak arm on my shoulder and I tried to help 
him, but remained paralyzed with fear. In the fetal position I only 
watched and waited.

  White picked at the avulsions on his cheeks, and frowned. 
He looked like he was thinking, but whispered a constant stream of 
epithets through a deranged toothy grin. Turning, his eyes caught 
mine as he stepped toward us. His leg reared back to crush, as one 
would empty coke cans. Zig still wasn't getting up, his breath 
ragged.

  In a panic I thrust out a lone fist into White's crotch. Metal.

  "Ah!" I yelled.

  "I've had it all taken out," White said, not pausing. His 
white rubber rain boot ricocheted off my shoulder and hit Zig in 
the gut as he attempted to stand. White followed all the way 
through, his foot taking Zig off his feet. The black man missed 
hitting the ceiling by half a foot but came down hard, bouncing off 
the opposite wall and stumbling back toward White. I thought the 
bigger man was going to kick again but then his stance faltered.

  Zig's outstretched arm yielded a middle finger that shot 
forward going for White's remaining eye. His bloody mouth was 
almost frothing in overexertion, while White's bared dripping 
metal teeth. I tried to scream to Zig, to warn him about the 
anthanol. 

  But then I considered the turn of White's dreaded attention 
onto me. Too much, too much. 

  My mouth stayed shut. 

  I am shit. 

  Zig's other hand went out around White's neck, pulling 
him closer.

  "Can't take out everything," he said and put his finger in 
the bubble.

  Instead of biting at Zig's throat, surprisingly, White 
contracted and franticly grasped at Zig's hand, thrashing his head. I 
saw the spasmodically twitching eyeball penetrated up to the last 
of Zig's knuckles. He tried to stay upright while White wailed and 
flung him back. Zig's grip finally separated, taking White's vision 
and ocular fluids with it in a gooey stream. The monster was 
totally blinded, screaming, cursing at us both. I tried a last ditch 
effort to stand, to fight, for honor or just self respect, but I just 
could not convince it of myself. I had never felt this way before, so 
sure of my own death. My arms and legs were dry sticks. When 
Zig's gaze fell my way, I was merely able to stare back, wide eyed 
and shocked.

  Zig wavered on his feet, dripping in his own blood. He 
seemed like he was about to say something for a second, but 
suddenly whirled back around with a blank look on his face. With 
his raised right hand he caught White by the neck, shifted his 
weight, and surged back over the guard rail. White's body took 
flight.

  Yuma's sleek steel gears accepted the body with a chorus 
of grinding shrieks. His body contorting, White's scalp fell among 
contact points and split down the middle. The dead-white skin and 
scar tissue parted with a nauseating rip. But no blood ran from that 
body. Instead flowed forth chains dripping with his ichor. 
Hundreds of sharp, black metal links spilled out into the 
machinery. The cogs and gear spokes caught on them and sucked 
them through, winding foot after foot of White's internals into the 
Yuma machine's motors.

  The noise was tremendous. As the linoleum walls shook, 
White flailed around even more, his matter emitting inhuman 
noises of pain and anger. Zig had held himself back and now 
covered his ears. There was nothing real in that body, no muscle, 
no organs. Somehow it had all been replaced with black iron 
chains that now were woven among the guide wires and fan belts 
of the machine he had created. Finally, the last links were torn 
from White's truncated insides, and his skin deflated like a 
balloon. The noise stopped and White's limbs lay motionless. 
Another follower who left the city nothing but a stain. I took my 
hands off my ears.

  "That was a surprise." Zig panted when it was over. He did 
not appear emotionally aggravated. Instead, dark splotches had 
appeared through his bandages. "Did you see that shit?"

  I looked up. "Yes," I managed to say.

  He looked at me and paused, with a hand on his stomach. 
"Screw?"

  And then, for the first time, a wiser pair watched each 
other. Confusion, distrust, disgust, things that took more energy to 
think than do. I had none. And yet my view was clearer than it had 
been in a while. It was just Zig, and he had saved me. Now he 
wanted to know if I was okay. Problems don't seem so 
intimidating in the aftershocks of murder. The gasps of sudden 
renewed courage blind.

  He offered me his hand, and I took it almost without a 
second thought, standing up. I brushed beads of shitty-smelling 
oily black ichor from my jacket, and Zig checked his sides, where 
White's nails had cut him. The damage did not seem critical, and 
we stumbled out of the vault, shutting the heavy gates to Yuma 
behind us. I was silent as I dug around the lockers for more 
bandages. Finding some, I handed Zig several rolls of gauze and 
kept a few for myself. We remained reticent for a few minutes, 
sterilizing and binding our wounds, and I wished my life hadn't 
been so irrevocably changed.

  Finally Zig spoke, and not in a forced tone at all. "Screw."

  I had been afraid he was going to ask me why I had not 
helped him. There was no answer. White had possessed me with a 
fear I could not remember. It happens to everyone, at some point, 
maybe a property of being mortal. But it didn't matter because I 
hurt too much to blame myself.

  "Yeah?" I replied.

  "White spouted a lot of shit before it was over. A lot of shit 
about you and some about me. You looked like you understood 
him, too. Was that true, what he said about you having worked for 
him?"

  I sighed. "...I hate to say it."

  "And what he said about you and him killing people?"

  *Well* I didn't say.

  Zig paused. "Maybe he was right. I don't remember who 
you are. And I don't know myself either, through the constant haze 
of drugs." Zig stood up and walked over to where I sat on a 
computer desk. "Maybe you and I weren't racers, or even knew 
each other before him. But the last four years were real, and I think 
I've come to know you as a person, if not as one with a past. You 
let my failure with Wells slide completely on your own. I'm proud. 
We can sort out the history later, but now, I just want you to 
know you won't get judged by me."

  Zig was the only guy in the world I knew who do 
something like that for me, when I wasn't even sure I would have 
done the same for him a second earlier. What a change had come over
us since entering that room. I had no idea how to 
respond appropriately. "Thank you," was all I could say. The 
people you take for granted are the ones that surprise you the most.

  We were silent for a minute or two, and then I stood up and 
turned to follow Zig. It would be a long walk out of here, and we 
did not know the way. As he was going out, Zig stopped at the 
door to the long hallway for a second and said, "Yeah, I guess this 
will have to come up sometime. White said your name wasn't 
really Screw. What do I call you from now on?"

  I paused and glanced back toward the large metal doors of 
Yuma. Behind them was a part of me that I would never outrun. I 
would have to face it every day until god decided the debt was paid 
off, and I could return to a life I called my own. If I could ever 
accept it. But it no longer seemed like such a tragedy. There would 
be more, time and need. For me there might always be more. 

  Walking out of the room, I said, "My name is Das 
Uberdog."















-------
-------



END PART TWO, DIVINATION

PART THREE, BEAUTY, (My baby)COMING VERY SOON







See you soon!




ae




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