DAY 8


Rich Fenton was busy talking to the rookie at the coffee machine when he was interrupted by another officer that came up to him.


"Got the info on that stiff at the Empire. Seems it wasn't anything unnatural. The guy had a heart attack. Damn shame. He wasn't that old."


Fenton eyed the report quickly, then handed it back to the man.


"Was there any trace of chemicals in his system?" Rich asked.


"Just a minute trace of cocaine. However that could have been absorbed into his bloodstream from the stuff that was poured on his skin."


Rich thought for a moment.


"Doesn't it seem odd that the body was found with a significant quantity of high grade cocaine on his flesh?"


The junior officer started to answer, then paused.


"Yes sir, it does."


"Perhaps a drug deal that went bad or....."


"Or what, sir?"


"Maybe he was murdered." said Fenton.


"How could that be?"


"Never mind." returned Fenton.


Jim Dregar was laying on the bed in his room at Ken's Inn. The previous night's event was not even in his memory. The television was on, playing a nature program. $%^& it would be nice just to get away from everyone. From the injustice carrying on in the world. Sooner or later everything was going to fall apart, the way this world was. The terrorists would strike. The Nicaraguans would overrun central America. All this was a breakdown of the system. Perhaps then all this would mask the real enemy. Perhaps the Chinese were planning to take over. Maybe one should guard against the enemy within, such as an unjust government.


These thoughts pulsed through Jim's mind. He could not put them aside. Maybe he wasn't supposed to. It didn't matter. He had one more job to do tonight. He must go over to the Capitol motel.


Rich Fenton stood beside the forensic scientist.


"And there's nothing else you can add to this report?"


The man looked at Fenton. "I gave you all I could readily trace down. What the hell else do you want from me?"


"How about traces of some drug that could kill very quickly?"


The scientist looked insulted. "There were no trace elements other than what I described in the report."


Fenton silenced himself for a minute.


"How about a fast acting poison that was expelled quickly?"


The examiner looked curious. "Something that would kill in seconds and be untraceable within hours. "Precisely."


The examiner walked over to a refrigerator compartment that carried the label of Murtah. He pulled it open. The corpse was exposed to Fenton.


"An obvious poison that is hard to trace is insulin. This, however, requires a needle, and I found only scars from drug injections. Also, insulin causes flushing and dilation of the pupils. This corpse has none of these marks", the man sighed.


Rich was intrigued.


"The other easy drug to obtain is synthetic estrogen. Obtainable from any vet supply. This causes internal bleeding and can be traced easily in males."


Fenton's brow knitted.


"There is one other that could do the job."


Rich looked inquiringly. "Well?"


"The guy would have to know what he is doing."


"What is it?" Fenton urged.


"Nicotine. Rendered from a small supply of raw tobacco. It kills in seconds, and is expelled from the body in eighteen hours. Very deadly."


"Is there any way to see if this guy died from that? " Rich asked.


"Well. The body is only about twelve hours old. I have to get some peripheral samples."


"Do it." Rich ordered.


The examiner moved over to a table containing a number of stainless steel tools. From this amount he extracted a pair of scissors and a small clamp. He then walked to the dead man and, after seizing a fingernail in the clamp, deftly sheared it off with the scissors. Turning, he placed this sample on a glass tube and added a chemical that Rich could not identify to it.


The tube was placed in a machine that stirred it agressively, When the task was complete, the man exacted an amount out of the tube, and placed it on what looked like a large slide. This was placed into a small case, and the door closed. The examiner pushed a button, causing a violet trail to drain down from the fingernail sample. Turning to a display screen, the examiner spoke.


"There's not much unusual here. Carbon, calcium, a bit of foreign matter. Hey, wait a minute."


The screen zoomed on a portion of the display.


"An abnormal amount of alkaloid chemicals. Specifically nicotine. More than would be derived from cigarette smoking."


"What are you saying?" Fenton inquired.


"See that spike?",The examiner turned to face him.


"This asshole died from nicotine poisoning."


Jim Dregar passed most of the afternoon in the room at the Capitol Motel. He planned his next move. The previous days' events had made him begin to feel the power of thought that was afforded to him. However one must not get careless.


Jim was thinking over his next move when a knock came on his door. Getting up off the bed, he turned the knob, allowing the door to swing open. Opposite him stood Rich Fenton.


"Come in, Rich."


The policeman stepped into the room. He took a careful look at the contents.


"So how are you, Jim?"


"Couldn't be any better. In fact I think I'm getting better every day that I'm in this charming town." Jim answered, mockingly.


Fenton's expression remained stern. "Well enough to kill anyone who stood in your way, perhaps?"


Jim shot his gaze to the policeman. "Perhaps, but your still alive."


Dregar could see that Fenton was not in any mood to play games.


"Jim. I want you to come to the hospital for a few tests."


Jim was intrigued.


"What ever for. You think that I'm the one that is doing these murders in the area?"


"How did you know there were any murders in town?"


"Look, I watch the news. I think that those scumbags got everything they deserved." said Jim.


Fenton nodded his head. "Precisely why I want you to take a few tests."


Jim stared at the carpet for a few moments. "Okay."


The hospital was the same one that, only a few days before, Jim had seen the pitiful figure of Caroline Johnson lying in the morgue. This memory burned Jim's mind like a red-hot sword.


The pain she went through

Why wasn't she killed instantly

Why did she live

Wait, that was not real

What is real is now

The roses


Rich walked up to the front desk of the hospital, saying a few brief words to the nurse that sat there. She looked at Rich, shifting her gaze to Jim, then walked into a room off to the side of the desk.


Before long, a man stepped from the door that the nurse had previously exited. He stepped up to the two men.


"Doctor Tim Desmond. Rich Fenton and Jim Dregar?"


Rich nodded.


"Follow me please."


The two men followed the doctor into what looked to Jim, like a laboratory. In this room, there were several tables containing various instruments, as well as a machine that Jim guessed as a SPECT scanner.


Quite impressive.


The doctor motioned for Jim to sit down, which he complied with, then Fenton and the doctor stepped to one side of the room.


The conversation was to too low to allow recognition of most of the words, however Jim did catch a little.

.... suspect....


.. mental test...


.. physical health..


The doctor returned to Jim's side as Rich assumed a guard stance at the exit.


The doctor pushed on Jim's abdomen. $%^&, that was uncomfortable. What the hell.


A loud belch issued from Jim's mouth.


"Are you gonna do this much more?" Jim asked.


The doctor stood up and turned away.


"Hey doc. How about sucking some blood from this vein?"


The doctor turned with a small syringe.


"I plan to do just that."


The needle was jabbed home in Jim's arm. The blood poured forth into the barrel of the syringe.


The doctor commented."Jesus that is beautiful rich crimson. Almost like a rose."


Jim snickered. Using a voice that escaped from a Dracula movie he replied, "And yes, dear, come up to my castle and we'll have a drink of blood. Yours."


Even Rich smiled at this imitation. But somehow, this was not the Jim Dregar he knew. The doctor removed the needle from Jim's arm.


"And now blood pressure and heartrate, yes?"


The doctor looked surprised,"You seem to know the drill."


Upon setting to his task, Rich noted the doctor's brow furrowed.


He tried the bloodpressure meter several times, then resorted to a stethoscope, which he proceeded to move around Jim's chest. After setting the blood specimen in a refrigerator, the doctor questioned Jim.
"Have you had any problems in your sex life?"


Jim looked the doctor square in the eye. "No, because I don't have a sex life. Can I ask you a question?"


"Certainly." returned the doctor.


"Why the hell did you ask me a stupid question like that?"


The doctor looked lost for words. He merely held his hands up in a remissive gesture. The men walked into another room, occupied by a large machine complete with another technician.


The subject was changed. "Will you get up on this table."


Jim looked at the doctor questioningly.


"You're not my type, sweety."


Jim stood, looking suspiciously at the table, which stood at the head of the SPECT scanner.

"You try to stuff Barium up my *** and you'll be in for a real fight."


"No, I'm just going to look at your brain functions."


"I doubt you'll find anything interesting."


Jim submitted to the table.


As he lay on the table, it began to move into a large ring.

"Now I know how a microwave meal feels." he joked.


The doctor smiled, as did the technician.


As he looked at the CRT display, a puzzled look crossed both the doctor's face as well as the technician's. They switched a few dials, and looked even more puzzled.


Finally,the scanner stopped.


"You can go now."


Jim stood up off the table and walked to the door.


The doctor spoke to Rich. "Can you stay?"


Fenton looked around at Jim, who replied "I'll catch a cab."


Jim left the room.


"So what's the verdict on his brain functions, doc." asked Fenton.


"I'm not sure."


Rich looked puzzled. "What do you mean your not sure?"


"When I checked his pulse and bloodpressure, there was none."


The doctor stood up from the computer and walked over to the fridge.


"Push the second button on the right."


Fenton did as he was told. The display ran up a screen that showed the form of a human body. That was all that was recognizable. The rest was pure white. "So, we got a white outline of his body."


The doctor returned with the sample of Jim's blood, and sat in an available chair.


"Rich, there is something you should know about a SPECT scanner. It displays all that is within a body, including bloodflow, in colour. This guy's body shows as a white object."


"So what, what does that mean?"


The doctor leaned back in the chair. "It means this guy wasn't there."


Rich looked at the doctor, then at the blood sample he was holding. The blood was no longer red. It was black as coal. Rich cast an uneasy eye into space.


Jim stepped out of the cab at the Capitol Motel. Counting out the money for the fare, he motioned the driver to keep the change.


The door opened at the push of his hand. The lady smiled at him as he passed the front desk. Jim did not acknowledge her. Walking down the corridor, he stopped at the door to his room.


He jiggled the passkey into the slot. The door opened and he stepped in. The room had been freshly made up by a maid. Jim moved to the cupboards. Opening the door, he felt of the gun case. It fell within his grasp. Jim removed the case from the shelf. Flipping the latches, the lid was lifted and his fingers felt of the gun within.


The time was two-fourty a.m.. Two men were walking down the alley behind the Empire. On their arms clung two women of the night. One man had the lump of a gun beneath his clothing, the other had a full head of bright red hair. The entire party was intoxicated.


"Hey, Striker, I think these bitches need a roll in the hay."


"Yeh, Horny sluts, aren't they."


All of them laughed as they walked down the alley.


Out of the gloom stood the figure. The women screamed. The eyes were glowing red. There were no features on the face.


"What do you want, asshole?" asked the redhead.


"Will Striker," spoke the figure, "I'm your death."


The gun levelled at Striker's throat. Before he could cry out, the trigger squeezed. The first shot penetratrated the throat of Will Striker. The second pierced the front of his skull. Will Striker fell like stone to the concrete.


The one woman ran down the alleyway. The figure turned to the other man.


"Jim Hedges."


The man yelled at the figure."*#$% you, asshole."


From beneath his coat, he pulled a 357 magnum. Pulling the other girl in front of him, Jim Hedges pushed the gun to her temple.


"Try something now, $%^& head."


The figure held the gun it was holding up higher and spoke.


"Her life means nothing to me. Yours means even less."


"Don't give me that $%^&." Hedges spoke.


"Fine, she lives." The figure aimed.


The trigger was pulled.


The bullet paused before the woman's forehead.


As in slow motion, it proceeded to pass through her.


Then resuming speed, pierced the throat of the man called Jim Hedges. His grip released on the woman. She fell to her knees, sobbing.


The trigger pulled again. The second round slammed into Jim Hedges' forehead. He fell forward.


The woman looked up, at what was a featureless face.


All she would say later, was that the eyes were the most beautiful silver she had ever seen.


The figure exited the alleyway.



Continued.....

DAY NINE


Jim was asleep. The time was three fourteen a.m. His eyelids showed the movements of REM, the dreamstate. He would remember later that this was the first time in several days he'd dreamed.


Mind you, this was not uncommon, as he had not slept much recently.


Jim, old boy, I'm quite disappointed in you. You have abilities at your
disposal, but you insist on using outdated techniques. The best you've managed was that bit with the nicotine. Try harder.


Jim's eyes snapped open. The room was bathed in light again.


Looking down to the foot of his bed, he saw the funeral procession again. The hearse stopped beside a freshly dug grave.


The preacher began saying words that were unrecognizable as the coffin was pulled from the car and gently lowered into the pit.


The ropes were released. The whole congregation turned and locked their gaze on Jim. As a choral voice, they rang. You.


"Hey, Rich. Do you believe this $%^&?"


Fenton turned from the coffee machine to face the officer who had spoken.


"Don't give me any more bad news. I just started duty."


The patrolman smiled."No bad news. I just got word that two more guys associated with the Empire were snuffed last night."


"Great." spoke Fenton, as he moved toward his office.


"Seems these two turkeys were out in the back alley behind the Empire when someone stepped out of the shadows and wasted them."


Rich turned slightly to the other man. "The word is kill, not waste. The good book does not say thou shalt not waste."


The officer eyed Rich strangely. "Anyway, the stiffs were pushing fluff and the women saw the whole thing. They're in the briefing room now if you wish to question them."


"Sure."


Fenton moved away from the officer and headed for the room in which he'd talked about.


Pushing the door open, Rich set his gaze on another officer and two women, definitely of the night. Their eyes were open wide , staring blankly into space. Rich moved around to their side. Their gaze did not shift. He leaned into their field of view.


Again there was no animated response from the two women. Rich looked up at the other officer in intrigue.


"It seems that they have undergone some sort of psychological trauma. At least that's what our shrink says. They haven't said much, except 'no expression' and 'the rising'. Queerest damn thing."


Rich assumed a posture of inquiry. "Did you say 'Rising?'"


"Yes sir."


Rich turned and paced for a moment, bringing his hands up to his face in a mockery of a prayer salute.


"Something ring a bell, Rich?"


Fenton shook his head, dropping his hands down."I've heard that term before, but I can't remember where."


The officer snorted.


"Well let me know if you remember. I've got other things to do."


Rich nodded and waved the officer out, watching the man's progress as he left the room. Rich turned back to the women. He walked over to them again. Their gaze had shifted and the policeman was now aware that they were watching him.


"So you are conscious."


Both women nodded.


"So tell me about last night."


The women looked away. Rich sat down opposite them and leaned forward.


One woman started speaking.


"Walking along. He stepped out. She ran, I was held by the other man. Gun to my head. The other died. Two shots. I was scared. He shot again. The other fell dead. The Rising."


Rich questioned. "What is 'The Rising'?"


"It. A form. All emotions. Evil. Good. Sad. Happy. Love. Hate. Crying hearts. Rose. Sorrow."


The woman was not making much sense in her seemingly endless, unorganized babbling.


"Is it a man you saw?" Rich asked.


The reply was predictable. "Entity. Being. Lifeforces."


The policeman began to digest what the woman was saying, yet she continued her ceaseless babble, albeit now in a slightly different tone. A tone that somehow, sounded familiar.


"I will light the fire. The gloom veil will disappear. I have beheld my soul in the light, hidden behind the accumulated darkness of the ages. When I have found myself, I shall race through all hearts with the torch of my soul. My heart shall be the first, then mine eyes and face. Everybody. Part will shine in the light. I will run amidst the thickets of melancholy hearts and build the bonfire of all sorrows. I am the irresistable fire of emotion. I will fan myself with the breeze of God and burn through the darkness of all minds. I shall uphold His love and whosoever meets me shall catch my joy and love of divinity. I will carry fragrance, putrifying torches for all hearts to bear witness."


There was little sense to be made of this, or so the policeman thought.


Rich tried again. "How do I beat it?"


Both women turned their gaze to the officer. " You can't."


Fenton stood up and walked to the door. As he reached to the knob, he turned back.


"Any other distinguishing characteristics?"


The reply was absolute.


"It has no face."


Outside,Fenton waived the psychologist over.


"Take them in."


Rich drove towards Ken's Inn. The earlier briefing of the two hookers had unsettled his nerves. He had lied to the other officer about the expression " The Rising." His memory was turned back to the other day when Jim Dregar was at his house. Jim had used a similar term when describing his ability to move things by telepathy. As to the other things the women had described, Rich could not be sure.


The entrance to Ken's Inn loomed ahead, and Rich turned into the parking lot. A thought struck him, causing him to laugh out loud. Jesus Christ. His old schoolmate was nothing better than a common murderer. Jim was always the stable one. Rich would've never guessed that he would turn to crime. Still, statistics showed that it was these quiet ones you had to look out for.


Pulling the door to the Inn open, Rich stepped inside. The lobby was empty, save for the odd patron passing through. He walked to the desk, and pulled out his badge. The woman there responded quickly.


"Give me the key to Jim Dregar's room. Police business."


The woman reached out with the key."No problem I hope."


"Just someone doing something they shouldn't be." Rich said as he took the key.


Jim Dregar was in the restaurant. He was enjoying a meal of shrimp wrapped in bacon when a figure caught his eye. The policeman was walking down the corridor to his room, a passkey hanging from his fingers. Jim sighed.


Rich reached the door of Jim's room and knocked softly. The knock went unanswered, so he jiggled the key in the slot, turned the knob and swung the door open. Stepping inside the room, Rich was sure to close the door behind himself.


The room was fresh, no touched items sat in view anywhere. The dresser was clean, the mirror reflecting the tidiness of the room. Fenton began looking for anything that would confirm his suspicions about Jim Dregar. The bed brought up nothing, as did a thorough search of the bathroom. Fenton stepped out into the main area of the room again.


$%^&! Jim wouldn't be so stupid as to hide a gun in the obvious place. Still, maybe he had counted on a search avoiding the obvious. Rich moved to the dresser.


Standing before the mirror, Fenton's own reflection stared back in defiance. Rich sighed and bent down to pull open a drawer.


The first drawer was empty. As was the second down. The third one contained a few pairs of pants, still with the store label on them. Still nothing of interest. Moving over to the next three drawers, Fenton pulled the top open, glancing into the mirror as he did so. The mirror radiated the scene back to him. He continued his work on the drawer when a realization struck him. When he had glanced into the mirror, his own reflection wasn't there.


Rich looked up again. The mirror stood boldly before him. There was no reflection of himself there. In fact, the room beyond the bounds of frame was not the one he was now standing in. Rich studied the reflection, gently pushing the drawer closed. An armchair sat opposite him, table to the side of it. Upon the table was a rose. The petals were wide open. As black as coal was the flower.


Rich was fascinated by the three-dimensionality of the reflection, that he had to reach out to it. His hand touched the glass. A electrical charge raced through his arm, as his hand melted into the glass. In a convulsive movement, Fenton pulled his hand back. Examining it, his hand was now solid. The room beyond the mirror beckoned him.


The policeman braced himself, then catapulted his frame into the mirror.


Jim sat in the restaurant, nursing an after dinner drink. A cigarette burned slowly between his fingers. His gaze never shifted from the corridor that the policeman had passed down some time before.


Rich Fenton's body convulsed in a field of brilliant light. The feeling burned into his brain.


As soon as it had begun, the sensation quit, and Rich tried to clear his mind. As his eyes cleared, the scene was of a chair, the table beside, containing the rose upon it beside which there was a book. Rich stepped forward to table. He reached to the book before him, brushing it with his fingers. His eyes fell to the cover. Photo Album. Slowly, Rich pulled the book up in his hands, opening it as he did so. His gaze fell to the first pictures. The first page was filled with what appeared to be early childhood
pictures. Rich recognized the people in them to be Jim's parents, all be they younger. Rich fell back into the chair as he continued to turn the pages.


The photos were of general family pictures. Jim as a lad,his parents, brother. Yet there were no pictures of any older generations.


After several more pages, Rich came upon shots that seemed to draw his interest. The characters in the photos were Jim and his fiance. There were two that showed her with what had to be their son. Jim felt an uneasiness as he stared at these two pictures.


It was almost as if these were alive. Looking at the woman, Rich noticed that no matter what angle he viewed the photo, she appeared to be looking directly at him. Even the child's eyes burned with unnatural realism. It was as though they both were still alive.


Rich snapped the book closed, standing up from the chair , and setting the photo album on the table from which he had taken it. It was then that he noticed a light smoke rising from the rose beside. The smoke took on a dull red glow. Rich became acutely aware of a snapping noise behind himself. Turning around, a brilliant aura consumed the wall he was now in front of. To one side of him, Rich saw glowing writing. The letters formed the word "Therising". The crackling of the ethereal fire increased.


The letters then changed to "Thierriessen".


Turning his attention toward the aura, two tongues of light reached to him. His body felt the electricity and he was pulled toward the light. The words entered his head as he felt control slipping.


You need not know anymore. Thierriessen.


Rich would remember that word.


Jim was now tired of waiting for the returned of the policeman, and he got up from his chair. As he paid his meal bill, he kept an eye on the corridor. Finally, Jim turned and walked toward his room.


Rich felt the tension of the passing, to where, he did not know.


His body felt incredible emotion. All feelings passed through his mind. This was tormenting. Rich felt the reality of what he was, what he wanted. Why he felt the way he did. The Rising. Emotion. Reality. The light stopped.


"Did you find what you were looking for?"


The voice brought Rich to his senses. Before him stood Jim Dregar.


"Did you find what you were looking for?" Jim reiterated the question.


Rich stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Jim to watch him go.



Continued.......

THE REVELATION


Jim stood silently before Rich Fenton. Both men stared at each other for a time, then Jim lifted his hands forward, wrists together. Rich studied the face of the man who stood before him. To him, Jim seemed to embody a quiet strength. A man who had nothing to prove and would pour gas over himself and strike a match before hurting someone. Gentleness.


Now, the face looked weak, defeated.


Rich stood up. Reaching for his handcuffs, he rolled them gently over the wrists that were presented to him.


"Jim. You are under arrest for murder."


Jim looked toward the floor.


"You have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. You have the right to have this attorney present during questioning."


Jim looked Rich full in the face."You have the right to be an asshole. If you give up this right, I will call you an asshole."


Rich shook his head. "Jim, you are only making this harder for yourself."


"Harder? How could it be any harder? I'm under arrest for six murders."


Rich ignored this last comment."Do you understand your rights?"


"No."


Rich pushed rhe other man bodily toward the hallway. "We'll talk about this at the station."


"It won't do you any good"


"Why's that?", inquired the officer.


"You won't like the answers."


Dregar turned his face towards the cop.


His eyes were silver.


The patrol car came to halt in front of the St. Thomas police station. The whole trip had not been broken by any conversation within the patrol car. Rich stepped to the rear door, opening it to allow Jim to step out.


Rich pushed Jim again, this time toward the doors. The men halted before the doors, which were shut, and Rich moved to open the door.


"Allow me." Jim said, monotonously.


Fenton looked back at Jim, to be greeted by the flaming red that engulfed the eyes of his friend. The doors swung open as if by unseen
forces. Rich recoiled away, then fell into cautious step behind the person that he had arrested.


As they passed the duty officer, Jim turned his head back.


"Don't forget to check in the evidence."


Rich fumbled with the Desert Eagle, then placed it on the counter.


"Tag and bag that, it's evidence. And, whatever you do, don't let it out of your sight,Tim, things have a habit of disappearing lately",Jim smirked.


The duty officer looked up into Jim's face to see the gaze shift from crimson to silver. The officer started at the sight.



"How did you know my name?", he asked, incredulously.


Jim just smiled.


Tim then turned to Rich, with an enquiring gaze. Fenton could only shrug.


As Jim proceeded down the hallway, the duty officer murmered to Rich, "Real psycho, huh.?"


Fenton paused for a moment, then turned back to Tim.


"Psychos' eyes don't glow and change colour, no matter how crazy they are."


Guiding Jim into a small room, occupied by a single cell and a desk, Rich motioned him beyond the bars.


Jim obliged, hearing the cage close behind.


He sat down on the cot. Opposite him stood Fenton, clutching the bars with an agonized motion. Fenton looked back at the man sitting on the bed. The eyes of that man were penetrating. Looking normal, except for the red glow. This glow did not overpower the eyes. Instead, all the features were there, just they were piercingly bright. And they were looking directly at him.


"Jim. Do you understand your rights?"


Jim never shifted his gaze. " No."


Rich whirled around and let his head down to meet a raised hand, rubbing his temple."Why not?"


"Because. I'm allowed to have a lawyer to go before the judge, but I don't have one, and have to go before a judge to get a lawyer, that is contradicting." came the reply.


Rich sat down at the chair. "Jim. Why did you kill those six men?"


"Why does anyone kill anyone? I don't feel proud. But it was justice."


Fenton leaned forward."Justice? What justice? You at least, will get a fair trial, unlike your victims."


Jim threw his head back and laughed mockingly."Yes, I get the fair trial, unlike my victims. Unlike their victim."


"What are you talking about?" Fenton asked.


"Caroline Johnson. Where was her trial. I only gave the trial for her death. I avenged her. What about the many kids that they have killed with their drugs. Who gave any thought to those lives that they have taken. The thought of getting rid of the scum that prey upon the young and the old of society have no right to exist. You need not defend them."


The eyes burned in an intense light.


Rich felt uncomfortable, again.


The phone rang. Fenton picked the receiver up.


Talking for a moment, he then returned the receiver to the cradle.


"I have to leave. Have an appointment to keep."


"Thrill me."


Rich hated these snotty comebacks. " You can keep in there for a while, Jim."


Fenton heard a more evil voice.


"And what makes you think I won't break out?"


The policeman pointed to the upper corner of the room, where a camera sat, pointing directly at the cell. Rich smiled assuredly, then opened the door.


"Your going to be busy tonight."


Rich turned back.


"Why is that?"


"Lots of problems out there."


Hesitating for a moment, Fenton felt compelled to ask.


"What are you?"


The reply was cold.


The eyes were bright crimson.


"I am the Rising."


Rich entered the main floor of the library. The building was a large, two story frame building with open beams. Many shelves, filled with various books lined the walls.


"Hey, Brad. Are you around?" Rich shouted into the interior of the building.


The room was not occupied at all, and his voice seemed to bounce around, mockingly.


'Are you around. Around. Around.'


Rich felt uncomfortable from the seemly void that confronted him. This was relieved by the appearance of a small figure from the office behind the return desk. Rich recognized the person as Brad Brown, the librarian.


"Brad! What's new around here?"


The lithe figure smiled. "Not a hell of a lot. Quiet as a tomb around here."


Brad was only about five and a half feet tall. Black hair, peppered with grey covered his head and face. Over all, he presented a friendly, fatherlike appearance.


"What can I do for you tonight, Rich?"


"Well. I want to look at your newspaper clippings."


"For that you will have to come back here," the other man motioned.


Leading the way, the older man showed Rich the necessary material.


All the clippings were stored on microfilm, and Rich would have to go through the required hunt to find what he was after.


"Go to her." Brad said.


After the librarian left, Fenton pulled the file on crime. Immediately, a subheading popped onto the screen. Rich panned the cursor down until he found the heading "Murder". Immediately, the screen filled with headings from murders that had occurred within a thousand mile range. Rich found the selections to be very thorough.


The title "Suspects" showed. After selecting this, a list scrolled across the screen. Fenton followed it until the word "Unidentified" appeared.


Again, Fenton selected the heading.


Slowly, he read down the list that displayed. Several eyewitness accounts of various suspects displayed. There was nothing unusual.


"$%^&, this is better layed out than our computers."


The policeman continued the scroll. The typical descriptions kept showing up.


It was then that one description caught Fenton's eye.


"Red-eyed, no face."


Rich shuddered. He had found what he was looking for.


Recovering from the initial shock, Fenton began to check the cases involving this description. Many of the stories went back to when the newspaper was founded, in 1876, when St.Thomas was a mining town. Rich shook his head in disbelief as he scrolled more clippings by. It was unbelievable.


It was then that he was caught, as if someone had pulled his every attention to the screen. A story of one old man in 1936 who had witnessed an "occurrence" and described the perpetrator. He only called it "The Rising".


Rich read on. The old-timer described it as being from hell, a mythological abomination. This snapped Fenton's mind.


Mythology.


The policeman stood back from the desk. He called out to the librarian.
" Brad, do you have anything on mythology in here?"


"Good selection." returned Brown, who motioned that Rich should follow him toward the proper selections.


The row of books in which the two men walked was to the left hand side of the building, as you faced from the door, and about two-thirds of the way to back of the building. Entering the proper row of books, Brad waved his arm in an all-encompassing motion.


"Pick what you will. I'll leave you to whatever you find. Rich thanked Brad. $%^&, he sounded like a Shakespeare poem. Turning his attention to the row of books before him, Rich traced, with his finger, the titles of what shelved before him. One book caught his interest. "European Mythology."
He pulled out this book and turned to the index. His finger traced down names of which he had no idea.


Kappas
Incubus
Succubus
Vampyre
Glaistigs
Thierriessen
Sirens
Banshee


Rich read through the names. One struck him as curious.


Thierriessen.


This name wove into Rich's mind. Thierriessen.


Therising.


The words etched into the wall.


What Jim had said to him.


What the news article had said.


The Rising.

Rich thumbed to the page that was indicated in the index. These words faced him, along with the lithograph of the creature.


Thierriessen was a creature, although little known, that was, perhaps, the most fearful of the mythological creatures.


Of Celtic origin, Thierriessen was virtually indistinguishable from a human in most cases. However, if pushed into extreme emotion the eyes of the creature were known to glow. If the emotion was pleasant, then the colour was silver. If the emotion was hostility, then the colour was crimson. If pushed to extreme hostility, Thierriessen would change form
to the above lithograph, drawn in the eighteenth century. All of the creatures were borne of human and, on a day undetermined,but described as the day of maturity, would have to choose their destiny.
Hence the existence of both good and bad Thierriessen.


The two were similar in character in that both are capable of shifting an object, or themselves, in time/space continuum. However,the red Thierriessen are more physical, or violent, which tend to tap their reserves of ability. The silver, on the other hand, tend to be logical, gentle, thinking of ways to defeat an enemy. Legend has it, that there was no way to defeat a Thierriessen that was silver. Red could be defeated by exhausting them, then taking measures that were applicable to a normal human. It should be noted that an enraged silver and a red are difficult to distinguish from each other, except that the silver's eyes will be normal except for the colour of the very features, whereas the red will be a solid, featureless blaze.


Rich looked upon the lithograph on the opposite page. The creature that stared back was one of a child's nightmare. Although in black and white, the illustration seemed to evoke an incredible feeling of emotion. The eyes were all powerful, burning off the page. The creature had a thin, sharply pointed face, atop the equally thin body. The legs resembled goat
anatomy.


'This looks like the devil.'


Rich read down the text further.


Thierriessen must choose their destiny at the day of maturity. The silver is harmless to righteous humans, however, it calls for justice where due. The red is unfair, unjust, should be cast out if met.


Rich became acutely aware of eyes upon him. Raising his gaze, he saw Brad Brown's face.


"You find what you were looking for?"


Rich nodded."Yeh. I learned alot."


"I hope it was worth keeping me here well past closing time."


Fenton fell into step behind the librarian as they moved toward the exit. Rich broke the silence once again.


Opening the book to the page marked by his finger, he asked "Brad, do you believe in any of these creatures?"


Brown took a quick look. A smile of amusement crossed his face.


"Mythology is supposed to have a basis in fact. I researched all leads I could, and never once ran face to face with one of these creatures."


"So you don't believe in them?"


"Believing in them leads to a desperate, poor soul", Brad said. Then noticing what page Rich had opened, continued, "Thierriessen? That has to be the classic Hollywood creature. Good and bad. What a joke."


Fenton closed the book. "You seem to have researched these creatures well."


"That I have."


Brad motioned the policeman into his office. There, he reached into a file cabinet, producing what looked like an old diary.


"Read it. " motioned Brown.


Fenton turned the book open.


The text of the diary had the same description as what was in the old news clipping. From there, the writing became more desperate.


I know what it is. I see it. I will find it.


Then the final entry.


Where are you?


Fenton was somewhat stunned, as he handed the book back. "That is very, uh, interesting."


"Indeed," returned Brad.


Fenton was curious, "How did you obtain this?"


"Oh,that wasn't hard, just a little research."


"Do you know what happened to this guy?"


Brown smirked, "yep, insane asylum. He said he had positive proof of this things' existence."


"So who was he?", Fenton pressed.


"Same guy that gave that interview in '36.", the librarian paused, then turned to face Fenton, "he was my father." The policeman looked down at the book in his hands. "Will you tell me what the hell I have in my jail cell, then?"


Fenton and Brown entered the police building. It was Brad who broke the quiet of the air.


"You're trying to tell me that you think you have one of these bastards trapped in your jail cell." he said,matter-of-factly.


Rich turned partially to shoot a quick look at the other man, who was following him. Turning his gaze forward, the policeman halted before the door to the room that contained the single cell.


He turned the knob.


The door swung inward and the librarian stepped past Fenton and entered the room.


"So what am I supposed to see?"


Rich entered the room.


He shot a quick glance around the room and locked onto the cell, which was now empty.

"I tell you, Brad. It was right in there. Red eyes and all." The older man looked back."Well even if you had caught one of those, trying to hold it in a standard jail was futile. Myth has it that those creatures can change their time-space position. Therefore, he just had to think himself out of the current time."


Rich slumped down into the chair that stood behind the desk.

"Is there anyway of holding him?"

The answer was predictable." No.Boy you don't know what you got yourself into."


Rich watched the other man shake his head in amusement, as he left the room, leaving Fenton to contemplate the current situation.


Rich stood and walked around the desk, towards the cell.


Stopping immediately in front of the cage,scanning the bars for any sign of them being forced. There was none. The policeman shook his head in disbelief. His childhood friend was a mythological creature. Fenton searched his mind for the answer, his gaze falling on the security camera that stared back at him from the wall, immediately above the door.


The camera. A nervous reaction shot up his back to his neck as he ran out of the room. His destination was the security desk.


The woman fell on the floor with a sickening thud. Moving toward her, the man looked down at her, a satisfied smirk on his face. He had been drinking heavily, and tonight was the same as many before.


"Don't you try and tell me what to do, *****. When I get home I expect you to have this @#$%^&* house clean and my dinner ready."


The woman looked up at him. Her face was bleeding, and beginning to swell.


The man made a motion to grab her, intending to pull her up.


She recoiled, trying to get away, when her gaze locked on a figure by the door. She let out a muted scream.


The man turned to follow her gaze.


The eyes were brilliant crimson.


The other moved quickly, one hand siezing his throat.


The man released his grip on the woman.


The other turned its eyes to the woman, as if examining her, then turned back to stare the man still clutched in its grasp.


"Do you love her?", it inquired.


There was no reply.


"I asked you a question."


"Yes, I love her", choked the man.


"Well, love hurts."


The other reached its free hand to the man's chest.


The man screamed in agony.


The other spoke again.


"I don't think you are entirely honest. What should we do?"


The man panted, "$%^& man, I think you broke my ribs."


The other began to grow impatient.It wrenched the man's head towards the woman.


"Tell her you're sorry, and mean it."


"*#$% man, I need a doctor, screw her."


The crimson eyes narrowed.


"Wrong answer."


The other released its grip on the man's throat.


He hunched over, clutching his chest.


The other turned to the woman.


She had drawn herself against the wall and panted as in a state of total hysteria. Tears streamed down her face.


The images of her pain shot through the other's mind.It saw the years of abuse she had been through.


It turned back to the man.


"How about a vacation? Say Hawaii. You'll be taking the volcano tour."


The man's form shimmered, then dissappeared.


The other turned back to the woman, who was now quietly sobbing.


Approaching her, it knelt down and gently lifted her head.


Locking its gaze to hers, it said, "I once had someone like you. I would never have hurt her, yet there are some that always have ones like you. Why did you stay?"


The woman seemed to calm down.


She replied, "I loved him."


The other laughed quietly.


"Think woman, why are you lying here?"


The woman fell silent, maybe taken aback by those words.


The eyes had now softened to a brilliant silver.


"You have broken ribs, a broken nose, and some bruises. There's your love."


It moved its hands slowly over her face, then proceeded down her chest.


"Get up."


The woman slowly rose to her feet.


The other took her hand and guided her to a wall mirror.


It turned her to face her reflection. All her bruises were gone.


"Next time, choose the guy that's shy. He probably won't hurt you."


The woman turned to face the other.


There was no one there.


The desk was empty, but Rich knew that the surveillance system was all automatically stored on video tape. The desk face was populated by half a dozen television screens, and a number of control buttons. Rich sat in the chair, facing the screens. On the monitors, he could see all of the areas that the closed circuit television system monitored. The prisoners in the main holding area were on one. another showed a couple of constables exiting the back door. The only one that Rich was interested in
was the one that showed the now empty cell room that he had
locked Jim Dregar-or-whatever-it-was in. On the console before him, Rich turned a knob that was labeled with the same titles as were the video screens. Rich selected the label that corresponded with the cell room. To the right of this knob were buttons that were labelled the same as the controls of a video recorder.


Fenton selected the one marked "Rewind".


The children were out way too late for someone their age.


The oldest was perhaps thirteen, the other, eleven.


They had cute blonde locks cascading by their faces.


They were sisters.


A man stumbled towards them.


"Hey, ladies, want to party?"


The two girls stopped in their tracks, frightened by this older man.


"Oh, come on, let's have some fun."


The girls drew close to each other,looking for comfort from each other.


"Don't you think I would treat you well?"


The man approached them, blocking their passage.


He reached out and grabbed the elder girl.


"Come on, let's have some fun."


The girl began to cry out, her fists striking the man ineffectively.


"I don't think she's interested"


The man turned toward the voice.


He was greeted by the burning red eyes.


"What the fu.."


His words were cut off, as his motion was frozen as if paralyzed.


The other turned to the girls, the eyes now silver.


It looked at them, then turned to face them.


"There are a lot of bad people out here",gestureing back to the man, who still held the statue-like pose.


"You shouldn't be out this late."


The elder girl spoke.


"Our parents don't give a $%^&.They don't let us do what we want."


"Maybe they do give a $%^&, and don't want you to hurt yourselves."


"We know what we want."


The eyes flared to a dull red.


"Ahh, yes, young women. Puberty hits, then you know all the answers. Did it ever cross your mind that maybe they are right and you're wrong?"


The girls recoiled, the elder spoke.


"This is some joke my parents are doing. Why don't you just *#$% off."


The other approached, the features of the face now indistinguished. The sisters began to move away from this figure.


"Yep, It's a big joke to scare you."


They continued to backpedal, as the figure resumed its approach.


"Do I look like a halloween costume, some special effect?"


The two girls then saw what they would never forget again.


The figure before them was completely bathed in red light.


The face had no features.


The rest of the anatomy was gaunt, almost animal-like.


"Maybe they don't want you to run into something like me."


The face, and the body began to reform to a human shape.


"Or maybe, unlike you, they have seen what this world is like."


There was no answer.


The eyes resumed the silver glow.


"You will obey your parents."


The other reached out to the girls, then turned to the still frozen form of the man.


"General population, skinner."


The man's form shimmered, then disappeared.


The screen of the cell room was blanked.


After a short time, Rich pressed "Stop" then "Play". The screen came alive with events that had preceeded in the day.


The tape had rewound too far for his requirements, so Rich pushed the " Fast Forward" button. The screen was filled with the day's events, all running at high speed.



Rich saw himself bring Jim into the room, lock him in the cell ,then leave.


It was here, Rich released the control. The screen action slowed to normal. The cell occupied Rich's eyes. Within the bars sat a man that looked completely defenseless. The figure sighed, as it sat on the cot. There was no motion for several minutes, then Jim sat upright on the cot, staring directly into the surveillance camera. Rich noted that his eyes had changed from red to silver. Jim had then got up and moved to the bars, wrapping his fingers around the metal. His head dropped. Rich watched the screen intently. Suddenly, Jim backed up a step from the bars, smiled
directly into the camera, and walked forward. His form shimmered slightly as he passed through the bars. Rich sat up in his chair. Jim's form walked out of range of the camera. Rich found the "Fast Forward" button. Again, the screen scanned forward, until the point where Rich and the librarian entered the room. Rich released the control and watched intently. The two men moved around on the screen. Rich didn't notice anything out of the
ordinary until he saw himself plop into the chair. It was then that another figure moved into the camera's view. This body walked to the corner, by the cell and turned to face the other men. Rich leaned into the screen. The person standing beside the cell was Jim Dregar.Rich shifted the selector knob back to "Normal" and stood up from the bench. His mind was awhirl with what he had seen.


Jim was standing in that same room that they had occupied only minutes before.


The other walked the girls up to the door and rang the bell There was little delay in the door opening. The mother ran out, clutching the sisters.
"Where the hell have you been?", the mother asked, "don't you know I've been worried sick."


The father showed to the door, his eyes full of tears. He fell to his knees, and hugged the girls.


"Thank God you're safe."


The eldest girl spoke, almost mechanically.


"This man brought us home."


She turned to point to no one.


The mother took the girls inside, leaving the father to look outside.
The father heard the conversation inside. "Don't you ever lie to me again. And don't you ever pull this kind of bullshit either."


"But mom, he was there."


That was the older daughter speaking.


"Mom, he was an angel."


That was the younger daughter.


The father sighed.


As he was about to reenter the house, he saw the glowing eyes. "Thanks guy, I always believed there were those like you."


"Your more than welcome."


The eyes faded away.


At the police station ,Rich turned and walked purposefully towards the cell room.


"Oh, Mr.Johnson" Caroline's father started, leaning up on his elbow.
He had been tossing about, laying in bed the last hour. The fact that his daughter was now dead weighed upon him. How could he have been so ignorant of what he had done? "Mr. Johnson", the voice rang out behind him. Ed Johnson turned toward the voice, to see the eyes.


"Who the hell are you?"


The faceless crimson-eyed figure moved from the shadows to the centre of the room. It was the other.


"Do you think that your regrets can justify your actions?"


Johnson watched as the other sat in a chair across from him.


"I didn't think it would go this far."


"Ahh, cause and effect. You didn't think your stupidity would affect your daughter."


By now, Ed Johnson was shaking violently.


"Who are you?", he enquired again.


The other rose and proceeded toward Caroline's father, reaching out a hand to grasp the man's forearm.


"Time for a holiday.", the figure said.


Fenton reached the door in a few moments, pausing before reaching for the knob. His movement was futile. The door swung open before him. Rich stared blankly into the room. He could not see any sign of life within, however, he stepped into the room.


"Jim? Are you in here?"


Rich heard a laugh. This sounded as though it were a hundred miles away. A voice fell upon the policeman's ears.


"See you at the hotel."


"Where are you taking me?", Dave Johnson asked. The other merely smirked.

"Time to see reality.", It replied.


Johnson looked on, to see his daughter's house.


The men were forcing themselves inside. She was on the floor.
They were raping her. They were laughing.


"Oh my God ", Johnson exclaimed.


"Not very nice, Old man" the other stated,"just watch."


The scene continued.


The man pulled the knife It dropped to her throat, cutting deeply.
The blood sprayed forth. She was taken to the car. The fire.


Ed Johnson was sitting on his bed, breathing heavily. The other sat across from him.


"Not pretty."


Johnson didn't reply.


"You do have a way out of this", the other spoke.


"What way is that?", spoke the man.


The crimson face softened as the features returned, yet the eyes retained the red glow.The face turned away for a moment.


Rich followed phantom footfalls as they crossed the room, heading toward the door. Fenton began moving toward the door, only to have it slam in his face. He tried the doorknob, finding it impossible to turn. Turning over to the desk, Rich pushed the talk button. He was returned quickly with an answer.



"Thompson. Get out to the patrol car. I'll be there in a minute."


Thompson, a tall, slim man, turned away from his desk intercom and made his way down the corridor to the parking lot. In the hallway, he became acutely aware that he was being watched. The feeling became overpowering by the time he reached the locker bank. Turning completely around, the young patrolman backpedalled toward the parking lot door. He felt the uneasiness that seemed to be running down the hall after him. It was upon him and then moved past.


He breathed a sigh and whirled to face forward.


Before him stood the figure, maybe two feet away. The eyes were bright
silver.



"Who the hell are you?" Thompson asked as he reached for his service revolver.


The answer was physical.


The locker door before him opened suddenly, violently.


The force of the impact caused the patrolman's knees to buckle, and he fell to the floor. The man was hefted into the locker, and the door was closed.


The lock snapped into place.


The figure turned to exit the door to the parking lot.


"Return", spoke the other.


Johnson looked up."What did you say?"


The other turned, holding the gun in its hand.It racked the action and offered it to the man.


Johnson studied the firearm he now held.


The other turned away, moving toward the door.


It paused, turning back to Johnson.


"There's one cartridge in there. Make the best of it."


By the time the report of the gun sounded, the other was outside. It merely looked back. "Burn."


The house exploded into flame.


Rich had tried the door several times, to no avail. He was thinking that he should have told Thompson to come and open the door. He would when Rich didn't arrive at the car soon. Rich turned and ran his hand through his hair. A noise behind him made him turn. Wheeling about, Fenton saw the door was ajar. He walked over to the exit and pulled the door open, exiting down the hallway. The room beyond was strangely silent. Obviously, the other men must be upstairs, in the lunchroom. Fenton continued down the corridor to the rear doors. Opening them, he saw that
his patrol car was running, and Thompson was behind the wheel.


"Hey, new *****."


The female talking was the leader of the gang.


Before her stood a comparatively small girl.


She was about to endure the sadistic ceremony of 'jumping in'.


"Are you ready, new *****?"


The smaller one nodded.


"Is the tape rolling?", the leader asked of the one that was holding a camcorder. There was an affirmative nod.


"Then let's begin."


The rest of the girls began beating the smaller one. The blows from fists, feet, knees, fell her to the ground. The assault resumed, the methods more violent. Kicking, jumping, the blows did not cease.


"Oh, this is good", spoke the one with the camera.


"Its @#$%^&* great, you mean", returned the leader.


The beating continued until a couple of the girls heard the one with the camcorder murmer "What the fu..." They turned to where she was looking.
The red eyes flashed twice in the shadows where the girls now stared.
The figure moved from the shadows, the crimson glow consuming
the entire body now. The other cast its gaze toward the girl lying on the ground, still writhing from the beating she had received.


"I don't think this is very lady-like", it said.


The other shifted its gaze to the rest of the group.


Most of the gang, save the leader had backed away. The leader did not.


"We got you on camera, bastard", she uttered.


The other turned toward the lens.


"Oh,no, I'm caught on tape", it held a hand to its mouth, then continued, " tough when the camera-man isn't here."


The girl with the cam-corder shimmered, then vanished.


The cam-corder fell to the ground, still recording.


The other turned its attention back to the leader.


"Do we understand each other now?"


The girl said nothing, but proceeded to pull a small pistol from her beltline.
Levelling it at the other's head, she exclaimed,"I don't know who you are, but you're gonna die."


The other smirked, withdrawing temporarily to the shadows.


All the girl could see was the eyes.


"You really have no clue what you're doing,do you?"


"*#$% you", the girl returned, squeezing the trigger. The firearm reported twice, causing the eyes to fade. The girl turned away in self-satisfaction.


The figure stepped from the shadows.


It now assumed the stature of a grotesque half-man. It held out its hand, causing the pistol to appear within. "How quaint."


It walked over to the camera.


"Tough piece, broken case and still running."


The other looked to the gang-leader, then the other gang members.


"The urban jungle is what you hunt in."


The other turned to walk away, then spun around to face them.


"How about a real jungle?"


The entire gang faded.


Rich strode over to the car, opened the door and got in.


"Head to Ken's Inn, Thompson."


The figure in the driver's seat didn't move. Rich looked over at that figure.


The face was turned away.


Rich put his hand on the figure's shoulder.


"Hey Thompson. You okay?"


The figure turned to face Rich. It was Jim.


The eyes were red again. Rich pulled his hand away in horror.


"How you doing, Rich?" Jim said, "Time for a ride."


Jim broke into maniacal laughter, as he slammed the gear selector into drive and punched the accelerator.

The man had way too much to drink.


He was weaving across the lanes of the highway. Several vehicles swerved to avoid him. The vehicle continued to weave, and pick up speed.
The man dozed in and out of conciousness. "Now!"


The man jarred alert by that voice.


He saw the tree before him.


The front of the vehicle crumpled.


The patrol car lurched down the drive, and pressed into the traffic that ran on the main road past the police station. The accelerator was pushed once more, the force of the acceleration drew Rich back in his seat.


"Having fun yet?"


Rich didn't answer the query. Instead, his mind searched for the next plan of action.


"Jim?"


The figure in the drivers' seat didn't acknowledge.


"Jim. Why are you doing this?"


The figure seemed to think for a minute. The glowing red eyes softened to a warmer silver colour.


"I didn't ask you to arrest me."


Rich was intrigued. He continued to press the issue.


"Jim. You killed six people."


The figure turned to face Fenton. "No. I merely avenged a death that was uncalled for."


"I don't understand. You talk like you believe in justice, yet you didn't offer your victims a fair trial."


The figure laughed mockingly. "A fair trial. Their victim didn't get a fair trial. I told you that already."


Rich tried a slightly different angle. "Why don't you just give yourself up. I'm sure that you can get off on temporary insanity. Use your rights."


The figure's eyes squinted in disbelief. "Have you ever noticed that the only ones with rights are the lawbreakers. Stay innocent and you have no rights."


"Jim, you have the right to a fair trial."


"Sure I do," the figure said,"I killed six people."


The figure slammed the brakes of the patrol car. The vehicle came to a lurching halt.


"Remember. We are not a country of laws. We are a country of lawyers and precedents. Let's see who's lawyer can bullshit the best and get you off, if not totally, then at a greatly reduced charge."


Rich turned his head forward in thought. Jim was right.


"Time to get out."


The glowing eyed figure walked slowly toward the wreck. It paused, examining the scene, then bent down to the man, now lying on the ground.


"Can you help me?", the man asked.


"Your actions belie your intentions."


"Oh, God, please help me", the man continued.


The other looked around, then settled its gaze back on the man.
It touched his head, then withdrew the hand.


"I will help."


The other stood up, and began walking away.


After a moment, it turned to gaze at the man.


"I think you learned your lesson. You will stay here." The other faded.


Fenton turned to watch Jim leave the car and run off down the road. The speed at which he moved was unnaturally fast and he was out of Rich's sight in a minute or two. Rich sat, digesting what Jim had said. Suddenly, Fenton snapped upright, slid into the driver's seat, and shifted the car into gear. Rich drove down the route that Jim had ran only moments before.


Reaching the crossroads of Fifth street, Rich watched as a conspicuous blue Jeep sped past, running through the traffic lights, and dropping below the hilltop leading out of town. Rich switched the siren on, turning onto Fifth in pursuit of the Jeep.


As the patrolcar dropped down the hill to cross the river, Fenton watched as the Jeep headed up the other side. Rich pushed the police car harder in attempts to catch up with Jim. $%^&, that Jeep was doing more than seventy miles an hour. Following the curving road out of the valley, Rich eventually caught up to the Jeep about ten miles out from where they had started. Jim showed no signs of stopping, so Rich was forced to pull along side the Jeep. Using the external public address on the car, he called out
to Jim.


"I agree with you, however I am still pressed to do my job. I am letting you go. All I want is your word that you are finished doing what you were and will not come back to St. Thomas."


Rich looked on as Jim turned his head slightly. The nod Rich received in acknowledgment was enough and he eased the car down and to the side of the road, watching the Jeep disappear in the distance.


"See you later, buddy", Rich said softly. He turned the car around and headed back to the city.


The Jeep headed into the mountains, going home.



Continued.....

The Rising


Jim drove along silently. He did not even have the tape playing the music he so dearly loved. The light from the headlights illuminated the road in front of the Jeep. There was no traffic this night. Jim was left to his thoughts, and the smooth purring of the six cylinder under the hood.


Get out of town. Don't come back.


These words echoed through Jim's mind. All the previous days' events seemed dreamlike. Questions raised in his mind.


What was happening?


What had he done?


What was the thing that he became?


The rising.


The lights of Kenton shone into his eyes as he broke over the hill on the western edge of town. Jim traced up one brightly lit street that was directly in line with the highway he was now driving. On that road stood the old warehouse that he called home.


Easing up on the throttle, the Jeep coasted easily to the outskirts of town, and Jim selected the lower gear to ease out into the main drag through town. The streets here were also as dead as the highway that he had just drove. Reaching down to the cassette deck jutting out from the dash, Jim turned the closest knob, the front panel springing alive with a cool, green glow.


....arriving here tomorrow. It's now 4:40 a.m. at WKTN.


The temperature is a cool plus 12. But we're expecting a high today of plus 33. Now, for all you early birds out there, it's back to music. I have a strange request from an anonymous caller. They have requested a song dedicated to Jim Dregar. So Jim, if you're out there, this is for you.
Pink Floyd performing a song off their hit album "The Wall" . The song is 'Run Like Hell".



The music filled the passenger compartment of the vehicle.


Jim reached down and snapped the power to the deck off. The light faded.


Jim felt a little unnerved at this request, so early in the morning. He turned down the lane that led to his house. The forend of the drive came into view, and Jim turned into it, coming to a stop at the side of his home.


God, it was good to be home.


He felt as though he could sleep for the rest of his holidays.


The door opened ,revealing the inviting interior of the house.


The quiet grumble of the boiler running in the basement added to the feeling that here was something that Jim could identify with.



Entering the room, Jim swung the door closed again. The interior was warm, friendly. He walked slowly down the corridor with a gait of a man returning from war.


Nothing to look forward to,nothing lost.


Reaching the door to the bedroom, Jim entered there, well intent on the rest he so required.


The dream started as a rerun of the previous days events.


Caroline Johnson.


The six criminals.


The payback.


Rich Fenton.


The scene abruptly changed. Before Jim stood the faceless creature with the burning red eyes. The build was similar to his own. It spoke words that Jim could not understand. Then, before him, passed the hearse.


The coffin lowered to the pit.


The headstone.


The name.


James Franklin Dregar.


Jim's eyes shot open.


breathing heavily, he sat up in bed.


$%^&, it was only eight in the morning.


Jim knew that these three hours were all the rest he would get today, so he resigned himself to getting up. Pulling on a floor-length housecoat, he walked out to the kitchen.


Filling the coffee pot with the necessary ingredients, Jim sat at the table to watch the black liquid slowly fill the carafe. His mind replayed over and over, the dream the night before. What was the meaning of the occurrence of the coffin? His will distinctly requested a funeral by cremation. Jim tried to put these thoughts out of his mind.


Pouring a cup of coffee, he resigned himself to the music room. Setting the coffee on the end table, beside a now withered rose, Jim walked over to the record shelf. Selecting a nice, classical piece, he placed it on the turntable and started the music. Returning to his chair, he drank deeply from the coffee that sat beside. The music came out bright, soft, alive. Jim set his head back on the chair. A peak in the music brought him to
full attention. Looking down to the table, Jim noticed the rose, dried, blackened , in the vase.


Can't have that.


Walking back to the kitchen, he removed a fresh rose from the group in the refrigerator, and set back toward the music room.


Removing the wilted blossom from the vase, Jim replaced it with the fresh rose. Taking the exhausted flower, he crushed the petals within his grip. He brought his fist up to his chin, exhaling audibly.


Behind him sounded an electric crackling sound.


He brought his head up straight, dropping his hand to his side. Turning slowly, Jim looked into the eyes of a figure he had seen before.


The gaze was fixative.


The glow was brilliant red.


The face had no features.


Jim turned completely.


"What the hell do you want of me?", he screamed at the figure.


The answer was definative."I want our soul."


The response was confusing the Jim. It was also apparent that the voice was originating from within his own mind.


"Yes. You will know. You have much to learn and no time is left. You have reached the age of decision, and I plan to have us."


Jim could not understand the conversation. Still he listened as the figure continued to speak in riddles.


"I have had more experience than you have. I have the knowledge to win. The time of reckoning is here. You will know when."


Dregar moved toward the mantle of his fireplace.


Looking into the glass above, he saw the image.


It was his face with the soft silver eyes.


Jim watched as the image as it shimmered and faded. What the hell was it talking about? He looked over at the clock hanging from the wall. The time was two o'clock. Jim looked again. He had lost six hours.


Christ, he needed a drink.


Rich Fenton was going over the paperwork on his desk. Into his office strode the day sergeant, tossing a couple of files to the desk.


"Busy night?"


Fenton looked up.


"What do you mean?"


The sergeant nodded to the folders.


"A woman with a history of spousal abuse. Her old man is now missing. Two young girls out too late, were attacked by some guy, and were saved by an unknown person. The father of the murder case burned up. A @#$%^&* drunk driver,bled to death. His vehicle looks like it hit a tree, yet there were no trees in the middle of the goddamn highway."


Rich shrugged his shoulders.


"What's to worry about? There are good samaritans all the time. The police, regardless of what you like to think, can't be everywhere at once."


The senior officer glared at the other man.


"Yeh, but two of the cases talk about a strange glowing-eyed person.
and I also want to know why that gun you checked in as evidence last
night is now at the scene of Johnson's case. Maybe a little object shifting?"


"Do you believe that?", enquired Fenton.


"Well maybe you should look at this."


The sergeant tossed a tape onto Fenton's desk.


"What the hell is this?", Fenton asked.


"Evidence, so don't lose it."


Fenton looked at the tape before him.


"Evidence seems to disappear around here,lately."


Rich recovered from what he had just said.


Holy mother of God, that statement seemed to be generated outside his mind.


Fenton continued.


"Where is this tape from?"


The Sergeant returned," We found a girl, beaten up, in some sick gang initiation. All that we found to corroborate her story was a damaged camcorder with this tape."


Fenton picked the tape up.


"Have a look at it", returned the other man.


Rich followed the senior officer to another room.


The tape was fed into a player on the desk, the screen above came alive.


The girl was jumping in.


The expletives.


The camera falling.


The crimson eyes. The creature walking toward the fallen girl. It turned its head toward the camera. The other smiled.


"Looks like he wanted to be seen, doesn't it?", stated the sargeant.


Rich merely shrugged again.


The other man turned to leave, then turned to face Rich.


"Hey, Fenton. What happened with that guy you had in the holding cell last night?"


"I had to let him go. He turned out to be nothing."


"Bullshit. I saw the tape. That bastard walked right through the bars. I also know he was a suspect in the murders that we have had lately. Rich, what the hell have you gotten into?"


Rich leaned back in his chair. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."


"Try me."


Jim walked through the doors of the neighborhood pub. It was almost two days since he had been here last. That was when he busted the guy over the head with the beer glass. He chuckled to himself as he thought about this. Stepping into the dimly lit interior, he looked around at the handful of patrons that populated the room. Behind the bar sat the same bartender that had served on that day as well. Jim pulled out a stool and sat at
the bar.


"Hi, guy. What'll it be for you today?"


"A mug of beer."


The girl drew the required liquid and set it before Jim as he counted out the payment.


"Have to arm yourself again in case those other guys come in, eh ?"


Jim looked into her face and nodded.


"I think they deserved it though. How about you?"


Jim looked up from his beer. From the look she got, the bar girl could tell that this day, Jim was not in the mood for conversation. She set about some menial tasks.


Swilling down the brew, Jim began to feel more at ease as the numbing effects of the alcohol began to take effect. Looking around, he could recall the group of assholes that he had taken out last time he was in here.


Drink again.


It felt good to hit that man with the glass.


Released a lot of tension.


Drink.


Jim recalled his conversation with the mirror.


Had it not said that the guy you had hit was on his way to St. Thomas?


Maybe it was just a dream, for he had not arrived.


Jim let reason prevail and realized that he had been probably been imagining everything.


$%^&, he had just a momentary lapse of reason and killed a few jerks that no one really cared about anyway. It was then that the bargirl breathed " Oh $%^&."


Jim looked up at her.


Realizing that she was looking past him, Jim turned to see the man he had just been thinking about enter through the outer doors. He turned back to the bar and drank again. A door closed behind him. Three figures passed beside him.


A voice spoke out.


"Well, well. If it isn't the fucker I been lookin' for."


Jim did not look up.


"I spent a lot of time trying to track you down. Managed to follow you to St. Thomas, but I lost ya."


"Why bother trying, then. Seems like a waste of money."


Jim felt a grip as if a cold hand grabbed his spine. The feeling rushed upward.


"I didn't think you'd have the guts to show up here again."


Jim stood violently from his stool. Striding quickly over to the man, he seized his throat. The pressure of his grip tightened. The other man looked into the crimson gaze.


"Guys like you never learn. Seems you want it again." Jim shifted the gaze to the two other men. They backed up. He released the hold on the other man's windpipe.


The man managed a feeble grumble from his throat.


"This isn't over. I'll get you."


Jim paused at the door to look back. "I'll be too old."


Walking beyond the confines of the building, Jim kept hearing the word repeated as if by a choir in his head.


Thieriessen

Thieriessen


Jim entered his vehicle and leaned back in the seat. Closing his eyes, a shudder rocked his body. The wave passed after a minute and he snapped back to reality. Determination filled his being. He was going to find the meaning of Thieriessen. He drove off, headed in the direction of the city library.


"So you see, this is why I let the suspect go," Fenton said, sternly.


The sergeant looked at Rich in a mystified manner.


"You are trying to tell me that this guy is a myth?"


Rich nodded his head.


"Come on ,Fenton. There is nothing like that in existence. Myths are only someone's imagination."


"Oh really," Rich said,"Then how the hell did he walk through the bars of the cell?"


The other man paused for a moment. "Illusion. Some sort of trick."


"Oh, give me a break."


The sergeant ignored the comment.


"You just make up the warrant for his arrest and get him back here. You may just be lucky that I don't bust you for not acting in time."


The man turned and left the room.


"Bureaucratic asshole," Rich growled, throwing down his pen to the desk.


It was then, that Rich Fenton decided his future.


Jim walked through the doors of the public library. A desk was immediately opposite the entrance. All along the walls sat row upon row of books. In the center of the room sat a few chairs, circled before tables. Jim looked across the room to a set of drawers.


The card file.


Moving purposefully, he reached the side of the file, scanning quickly for the "M" section. Pulling out this drawer, Jim thumbed through to 'Mythology'. This was located under the pure sciences section.


He slid the drawer shut and walked through to the proper set of racks.


There before him, Jim saw numerous books on mythology.


One book that caught his attention immediately was a book entitled "Mythos Descript".


Jim slid the book from the shelf. It was relatively large, and carried a look of a book that was very old. Signatures which Jim guessed to be hex signs, decorated the cover. This looked like a likely book. He walked over to a chair in the center of the room and sat down. Setting the book in his lap, Jim set about thumbing through the pages. The first page bore the date "1799". Christ, this bloody book was almost two hundred years old.


Flipping a few pages, and quickly pondering the old engravings that populated the book, Dregar continued turning pages again, seeing again an image that was familiar.


Stopping, Jim studied the picture. The face was the description of horror.
A featureless face was present, save for the outward curve that should have been a nose and the eyes.


Those eyes that burned off the page. Jim could almost see the creature standing before him. It was what he saw for a brief moment earlier. Moving his gaze to the printing, Jim read the title.


Thieriessen.


Jim let this name weave through his mind. He began to realize what was happening. It was The Rising.


He read through the text under the headline. Most of the words were basic garbage, indicating where the creature was started, its characteristics. But,as the book began to describe the powers and weaknesses, it began to talk to him out loud. The words were not what was printed on the page, but rather a more modern english he was used to.


Thierriessen is a multi-dimensional creature being born of one human parent and one of them. They have the ability to manipulate reality and transport objects because they themselves can control an object's position in space and time. Most Thierriessen can move any inanimate object. All will, however,mainly those that are silver,shift themselves in time or space. It should be noted that when they move out of the relative, or soul that they belong, they become phantom-like, or unsolid. This
has been used for the basis of explanations of hauntings. Even in this form, Thierriessen can still move objects as if they were solid.


Jim looked up briefly, to examine some people who walked into the room. Shifting his position in the chair slightly, he continued to look upon the printed words.


The speech continued.


Thierriessen can also cause hyper-excitation of the actual structure of objects, doing to them as it wishes, mainly fire. This has been used to explain spontaneous combustion.


The Thierriessen has been seen in two forms. What is documented as a red and a silver. The red is associated as the powerful evil, the silver as powerful good. When young, they look normal, however personality is extremely strong.


Also,Thierriessen tend to exude a feeling of emotion. It is thought that the red are beings of pure emotion, and the silvers are beings of logically balanced thought, and emotion. Because of this, at the proper age, that has yet to be determined, Thierriessen must go on a decision path.
This will decide the ultimate destiny of the creature, whether it be a silver or a red. To date it is thought that only one-quarter are silver.


Jim digested these words. $%^&. Was he a myth? The realization made him laugh out loud. Several people turned to cast an eye in his direction. Jim, feeling the gazes upon himself, quickly damped his emotions and continued to read.


Thierriessen have been fought with some success. Firstly, it must be made clear that if it is required that a Thierriessen be eliminated, that the determination of red or silver be made.


A silver will look as a normal human. When emotionally pressed it will display a glow in the eyes. If the emotion is pleasant, then the gaze will be silver. If anger,then a bright red. The red gaze will be detailed, meaning the features of the eye will be visible. When excited, both will exhibit no other facial features.


A red Thierriessen will display a dull red glow at all times. The only reaction will be to anger, which will cause the glow to flood over any features of the eye. It must be noted that one should not kill a silver.
They are basically harmless. In fact, they have been said to take a likeing to, and guard those that they come in contact with. This has been used to describe a guardian angel. Once determination has been made, there is only a very few ways to kill the creature. One way is to try any conventional method of killing.


For this to be successful, you have to surprise the creature,as all it has to do is shift itself in time, and the blow will be ineffective,passing through the body. The only other way to kill it, is to wound the body,again
requiring surprise. Then, usually, the creature will do what is called soul shifting. This means that it will shift its conscience from the body, until
any healing that is required, is done. Once the Thierriessen has shifted, which is recognized by the return to normal color by the eyes, an assault on the body must be carried out, by striking the body.


This causes the Thierriessen to reenter the body in an attempt to save itself. Once the creature has reentered, again by the color of the eyes, a killing blow must be struck to the body. It is thought that Thierriessen can not live without its support body. Consequently, it dies. However there are unconfirmed reports that certain cases include the death of the body, but the creature lives on in its shifted soul.


While not confirmed, it is believed that these few remain as a silver.
It must also be stated that dealing with this creature is extremely dangerous.Depending on the will of the human contactee, most people descend into various levels of insanity.

There is one other possibility that has yet to be explored. That being of one borne of two Therriessen. No bounds may exist to this creatures abilities.


Jim closed the book with a quiet thud of the cover coming together. He looked to the ceiling. It was all so clear now. He had reached the age, and now he must decide. Yet, there was no mention of what he had to do to decide. The words of " Himself?" echoed in his mind. " I want the soul". Jim had seen both red an silver in his eyes. Yet he had no idea what exactly this meant.


Standing up, Jim slowly walked over to the shelf to replace the book. After accomplishing this, he walked out past the front desk, to the exit.


The walk to the jeep seemed longer, but maybe this was because the larger weight of expectation of what was to be, was now upon his shoulders. As the handle of the door touched his hand, Jim felt as though he had forgotten something. The anxiety built.


"What?" he spoke aloud.


The feeling that he must go back and retrieve that book entered his mind. He could see it before him. Relinquishing his grip on the door handle, Jim turned and walked double time back into the building.


Reaching the shelf that contained the book, Jim scanned the area for the volume.


It was not there.


He began to feverishly look down the rack.


Still there was no sign of what he wanted.


Walking to the front desk, Jim was confronted by an elderly lady.


"Excuse me ma'am"


The lady looked up. "Yes?" she replied ,with a smile.


"Did someone just check out a book on mythology?"


"Well. I didn't see anyone and I've been here for the past two hours. What was the title?"


Jim thought for a moment before replying.


"I think it was called 'Mythos Descript'".


The woman raised her eyebrow, inquisitively."Mythos Descript?"


Jim nodded.


The lady turned to a binder that was set off to the side. placing it in front of herself, and opening it, she scanned down the page. Looking up, she shook her head.


"We don't have that book."


Jim protested."But I just was looking through it."


The woman replied,"I'm sorry, but that book hasn't been published for over a hundred years."


"A hundred years," Jim echoed, remembering the date on the book.


"If you saw that, it would take a time machine to get it here."


Jim sat in his jeep. As he ran over the last few minutes, a young couple walked by.


Watching them go by,he could feel the love that flowed between he two people. It was a wonderful feeling.


Jim smiled.


Looking up into the rearview, he saw his own ace. The gaze was a beautiful silver. Jim laughed aloud. The glow got brighter. He could not contain his emotions any longer.


He let out his feelings.


Jim felt that it was time to celebrate the realization. Time to head back to the pub for a beer. Turning into the drive, he parked the jeep.


Walking toward the doors, he felt good. It was the times like this that he enjoyed. The last time he felt this good was when his fiancee had bore him a son. The exhilaration was wonderful.


Jim felt as though he could take on the world as he pulled open
the doors and entered the pub. After a moment, his eyes adjusting to the interior gloom, Jim felt hands grabbing his arms. Looking around he could see the faces of the men that had been here earlier. A voice rang out.


"Well, well,well. If it ain't the tough guy."


Jim looked to the face from which these words poured forth. It was the same man he had encountered earlier. The red marks on his throat were still visible .


"You ain't so tough now, hey, wierdo."


Jim watched the man make a motion to his hip. As his hand pulled forward, the blade of a knife glinted in the dim interior.


"Kiss your *** good bye, tough guy."


The knife struck in the upper torso, the blade penetrating at a high angle. The three men laughed at their actions. Their amusement was shaken by the sudden change in the lighting of the room. From Jim's eyes grew a crimson glow that burned to the sight. A pulsing wail came out from his mouth , as the men let go in surprise. The man who had struck the blow shook his head.


"Forget it."


Jim's body collapsed to the floor.


The three men walked back to the bar,seemingly proud what they had done.


Most would have left immediately, but they stayed on to finish their drinks.


"That was a little easier than I thought," commented one.


"Yeh. Kinda gives you a feeling of power, right?" spoke the leader.


The bartender was in a state of shock. The man grabbed her by the hair causing her to cry out.


"Right?"


The man pulled the girl's head to the side. He laughed .


"Holy $%^&," exclaimed the third man.


The other two looked at him, then following his gaze, looked around. The leader of the group released his grip on the girl's hair.


Behind them, the body of Jim Dregar began to stand up. As it reached its knees, it looked directly at them. The eyes were overtaken by the reddish glow. The features on the face had disappeared.


It rose to stand on its feet.


When this motion was accomplished, the clients in the bar watched in horror as the hand reached down and slowly withdrew the knife still jutting out from the stomach.


This proved too much for one of the men, and he broke for the exit on the far side of the room. As he reached the door, Jim Dregar hefted the knife and threw it with incredible speed.


The point pierced the skull of the man. The force of the blow caused his head to slam into the wall, the blade penetrating the other side of his head and sinking into the wall.


Jim turned his gaze to the other two. The two men stared at each other. The crimson gaze locked on the other accomplice. He began to shake violently.


The first man spoke.


"Hey, man," his voice was hysterical,"What's wrong?"


The other man could not answer. Steam began to rise from his body. This was followed by a bright, blue flame. As the fire consumed, the facial features of the man began to melt and run down his body, to the floor, forming an oily puddle. The process did not stop until the flesh was totally consumed. A shrunken skeleton, and greyish ash was all that fell to the floor.


The crimson gaze then turned to the last man.


"Please. I didn't mean you any harm. I was just kidding. I..."


His plea was cut off. Like the other man, his body began to shudder. His demise was quicker.


A resounding explosion echoed in the room.


Pieces of flesh flew in every direction. Several clients expressed their surprise by adding to the mess on the floor.


Jim's face began to return to normal. The features returned, as did the normal color in his eyes. Grasping his stomach, where the knife penetrated, he turned, supporting his frame on the door frame. Pushing open the door, he staggered from the premises.


"Hey Rich. Got something you might be interested in."


Rich Fenton turned to face the desk sergeant again.


"What the hell is it now?"


"That guy you let go? Seems he's in trouble in Kenton."


"What's the problem?" Rich sighed.


"The guy got stabbed in a bar. Thought he was dead. Turns out he stood up and took out the guys who assaulted him."


"Well what do you want me to do about it?" Rich asked.


"Your friend was found out in his vehicle by ambulance attendants. He's in intensive care."


"Anything else?"


The sergeant snickered. " Yeh, read the report on the other three guys."


He handed Rich a printout. Rich studied it


"One knifed through the head."


"Precisely. It takes more energy than a human has to hurl a knife across a forty foot bar and right through some asshole's head."


Rich continued reading. "Another man suffering from what looked like a total purge of liquid and a third, blown to bits."


Rich looked up.


"What do you want me to do?"


"Get up to Kenton. As soon as that asshole friend of yours comes out of it, you arrest him for ten counts of murder."


Rich could only stand there as the sergeant turned and walked away.



Continued......

CHAPTER FOUR
Final Realization


Rich Fenton drove along the same route that, several hours ago, his friend drove along. Rich let the thoughts pour through his mind. Perhaps Jim knew that he was driving to his doom? However ,what had possessed him to kill all those people, just to become a victim himself. A flood of memories entered Rich's mind.


Thinking back to the school days the two had shared. Rich could still remember the guy he befriended immediately. It was the third grade. A new boy comes into the class at mid term. He was extremely quiet, perhaps too quiet. Rich could remember the day another boy in their class was hurt. It had been recess. everyone was outside. The boy had said he was going to walk home to get something. Jim had told him not to. The boy ignored the warning.


As if gripped by unholy terror, Jim had yelled out.


The warning had been too late. A car struck the boy as he was crossing the street.


Rich thought forward. Beyond to when they attended high school. It was here that Rich could remember Jim having his first serious girl friend. Although several other women had said they thought he was sweet, none ever gave him the time to prove what he was truly like. They thought him a little weird. Mind you, if anyone had to bear what Jim did, they'd be a little strange as well. This lady had been different. Her personality was similar to Jim's. She was also a little older, having finished school a
couple of years earlier. It was she who bore Jim's son. Rich could recall seeing the two together. It was the first time Jim had been really happy since his parents were killed. Rich also could remember the day that Jim's lady and son were in the vehicle accident. Jim looked like a man defeated. It was the first time that Rich saw this man break down and cry. Rich recalled what Jim said.


You won't tell anyone that I did this. Men aren't supposed to cry.


The funeral. Very few attended. Jim stayed at the chapel for hours.


Realizing that he was nearing the outskirts of Kenton, Rich slowed the patrol car to a reasonable speed. Entering the town, Rich selected the main drag through the town. Following this route, he entered a curve that turned south, passing through the major portion of the city.


Nearing the south end of the town, Rich turned into a parking lot. High above him, the sign said " Kenton Hotel".


This was, perhaps, the most luxurious place to stay in the city. Leaving his patrol car, Fenton walked, with his bag, toward the lobby entrance.


The main lobby of the hotel was empty, save for the clerk.


"Can I help you?"


"Uh, yes", Rich stammered, "Room for Fenton?"


The woman looked through the register.


"Yes, here it is. Paid police visit. Sign here."


A slip of paper was pushed in front of Rich's face. Seizing the pen on the counter, he managed to scribble his signature onto the form, all the while noting the rates. That much a night. $%^&, it was a good thing that the police department was paying for this'.


Rich tore out the customer copy of the form, took his key and headed for the room.


Entering the suite, Rich noted that the style was of a typical hotel. $%^&, Jim definitely had more taste choosing a place like Ken's Inn when he was in St.Thomas. Oh well.


Rich threw his bag to the floor.


Closing the door behind himself, he noted the time.


It was eight-twelve p.m. There would be no time to check on Jim tonight. Last report had him in a coma, anyway.


Rich turned to finding something worth watching on the television.


Finding a decent program, the policeman laid back in the depth of the darkened room to watch.


Rich began to nod off.


Welcome home, old boy.


Fenton started.


$%^&, that voice was real, and in the room.


He looked around frantically, his gaze finally turning to the bathroom door.


Glad you're here, man


Fenton saw the silver eyes fade into the blackness of the bathroom.


He was overcome by images of himself and Jim, his childhood, what had happened, what could have been.


His body shook violently.


He was losing his mind.


No, guy. You will be okay


As the tremors ceased, Fenton looked again towards the bathroom door. He saw the beautiful silver gaze fade again.


Collecting himself, Rich stood upon weakened legs, and moved to the bathroom. Feeling of the switch within, he flipped the light on.


The room was clean.


Fenton staggered to the toilet to relieve himself.


Upon completeing this task, he turned to see a single red rose laying at the threshold, and picked it up.


"How the hell did this get here?"


He was sure it hadn't been there a moment ago.


A dull mist broke up from the petals, as they began to wilt, and turn from crimson to black.


Your promise


Jim Dregar could see himself lying in the bed. Several machines, their wires streaming over to his body, sat to the side of the room. Yet, something seemed strange. He could see that he was looking at himself from the side of the bed, as if he was disembodied. He could even see the occasional nurse walk in and check on his body. Was this what was called a Out-Of-Body-Experience?


"Hey."


Jim stared at the sound of the voice.


"Hey, old boy."The voice was gentle.


It sounded out from behind him. Turning around to face whatever said this, Jim recoiled in surprise.


Looking directly at him, perhaps five feet away, was his own face.


The figure was normal, as if looking into a mirror, except the eyes. It was a refreshing change. After experiencing the crimson gaze of the thing that he'd encountered before, the gaze was a beautiful change. The eyes of this creature were a soft silver.


The creature smiled.


"How you doing, fellow?"


Jim felt a little strange.


"You look like me." he said.


"Of course I do. I am you.", it said a-matter-of factly.


"I figured that much, but WHAT are you?"


The figure dropped its head and laughed.


"I know you have read about what you are. Sort of like the guy with the two little figures perched atop his shoulders. One good. One bad."


Jim sat down on the edge of the bed. The figure still spoke.


"You are entering the time. It is time for you to choose which road you want. To choose whether I am you or the other is you."


Jim found questions entering his mind.


"Well what is the difference?"


The figure spoke without hesitation.


"If you choose me, you can use the power given you, when you wish. I will be there only at your call."


"And the other."


"It will take you over. You shall cease to be, and so will I."


Jim found the next words entering his head.


"The only thing is, I don't want any of this."


The figure posed a suppressed smile.


"I wish it was that easy.It is no longer your choice. "


"What do you mean?"


"You have to confront the other. To defeat him. He will do anything to survive. Even steal or deceive your body."


Jim looked to the ceiling.


"What do I do?"


"You have to beat the other. You must face it alone."


"How can I defeat something like that alone?"


The silver gaze looked Jim in the eye.


"You can call on me any time. However, I can only enter you when you have the right emotion."


Jim shook his head.


"This sounds too much like a movie. Why can he confront me any way he wants, but I have to call on you to arrive?"


"I don't work the way he does. I will only do what you ask me to." came the answer.


"Even at the cost of your own existence?"


"Yes."


Jim could only look behind his position. There lay the flesh that should rightfully be him. Yet, he knew not whether he would wake up again.Dregar watched as the creature stood up, and walked to the figure lying prone in the bed. It touched the sheet, then turned its gaze toward him.


"There is one more thing you should know."


"That being?", Jim returned.


"You are borne of two of us, and she that was, is borne of one as well. She will be there."


Jim tried to make sense of this, then remembered the words.


That one borne of two Theriessen. No bounds may exist to this creatures abilities.


The creature looked him dead in the eyes. "You have someone to see."


Rich Fenton was sitting on the bed in his hotel room watching the television. A few empty beer bottles sat on the end table beside the bed. The policeman was somewhat looser in appearance than usual. Perhaps, he felt, that this was a small holiday from the hectic schedule in the St. Thomas police department.


Feeling the call of nature, Fenton got up off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. As he stood before the bowl, he looked at his own image reflected back at him. His mind wandered to the other day when he fell through the mirror at Ken's Inn. He snapped alert at this thought. Not wishing the chance again, Rich swung the door of the medicine cabinet open, thereby turning the mirror to the wall.


Finishing his duty, Rich flushed the toilet and walked back into the main area of his room. As he neared the bed, Fenton was overcome by a feeling that something was wrong. A slight static noise welled up behind him.


"Oh $%^&", he exclaimed.


Not wishing to repeat the Experience again, the policeman dived over the bed. Landing on the floor, he rolled over, bringing his body up to rest on the edge of the bed, looking in the direction of the sound. The noise became stronger and more localized as the source made itself apparent. Above the entrance to the room, was a light. A shower of sparks fell out from around the fixture. The light blinked, then went out. Rich smiled,
getting up from his vantage point. Hell, he'd forgotten to shut the light off. Obviously, a short in the fixture caused this. Stepping around the end of the bed, the policeman walked over to stand underneath of the fixture. Small, black spots covered the floor directly beneath it. Better call a maintenance man. Wouldn't want a fire to break out here.


"Hello, old chap."


Rich whirled around to look into the face of Jim Dregar.


"I said hello."


Fenton looked at the figure before him.


It seemed to slightly shimmer, the voice being distant.


"Jim, you're supposed to be in hospital with a major stab wound."


Jim began to talk. At first it seemed to be an incoherent babble. However, soon, Rich found a measure of wisdom in what Jim was saying.


"I can remember my younger days. I would walk into the house and I would have that feeling. I can smell the kitchen. It was home. We've all had a pet. However, as all things must pass, so does life. The ages of the hamster or the puppy eventually die. Remember the feelings that are present at the end of that little life. A loss. So, as this life passes, as do all. Those times when milk and cookies end. What does that mean? I wanted more. Maybe they shouldn't? They do. It is something that we cannot judge nor control. Who knows? When we die, is all ended or does
something from our existence remain? Do we remain? Everything must die."


Jim paused for a moment then spoke again.


"What and where I am supposed to be and what I am are quite different."


Fenton walked purposefully toward Jim.


"Jim, I am under orders to take you back to St. Thomas to stand trial."


Dregar smiled."Sure."


Rich reached out to grab Jim's arm. The move's purpose was not fulfilled. Upon reaching out, Rich's hand passed completely through Jim's arm. The officer's expression changed to one of puzzlement. He reached again, this time, he reached for Jim's chest. Once again, the thrust was unopposed. Fenton pushed his hand completely through Jim, touching the wall on the far side.


"What the hell?"


Dregar made a snorting noise from his nose. "Hell, definately. Yeh, questions. Sit down and I'll try to answer."


Fenton slowly sank to the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving the man before him. Questions flooded his mind.


"How...?"


"Don't really know. I can tell you that the reason that your touch passes through me is that I can occupy a different space and time than you. Why you can see me is beyond me. Perhaps it is merely because I come to you in a dream. A waking dream. You wouldn't believe what I am capable of in dreams, and you would really be frightened of what I can do awake." Jim answered.


Rich thought for a moment.


"Most of the people who encounter you wind up in the Goddamn psych ward, why haven't I?"


Jim thought for a moment, then, standing up, walked to Fenton. He reached his hand out, touching the policeman's shoulder.


The surge of emotion was intense, as the memories flooded into Rich's mind.


It was on the schoolground. Richie was showing off, swinging higher than he should. The swing tipped, and he fell. The pain ripped through his arm.
The playground monitor ran to his side, checking him. "Call the nurse, his arm is broken"


The quiet boy walked to him, crouching beside him. He touched his arm.
The pain ceased. "You will never be afraid of me."


Rich snapped out of the memory to watch his friend sit once again, across from him.


"I thought you were in intensive care." Rich said.


"I am. Somehow, I am able to leave this body and move around."


"You're dead?"


"I don't think so. I've been told that it is because I am to be challenged."


Rich cocked his head."Challenged?"


"Beats the hell out of me. I have no idea why or what is to happen. "


Rich began to overcome his initial surprise. Once again he felt the training that he had learned in the academy. He began to get angry about the events that led up to his being here. The topic changed to these events.


"Jim what the hell is going on? You killed seven people in St. Thomas, now you've killed three here. You are an animal."


Dregar looked sharply at the policeman. "Six. I killed six in St.Thomas."


"That's what you say. How can I believe anything you say now?"


Jim laughed mockingly."You have little choice at this point in time. I killed those six assholes in St. Thomas because they brutalized a lady."


"Well, what about the three in the bar here?" Fenton demanded.


"They threatened my life.I was acting only in self defense. Dammit, Rich. you can't see it, can you?"


Fenton posed in thought,"What do you mean?"


"This whole goddamned world is falling apart, we are trying to preserve what little there is. The others are tearing this apart."


The riddle that Jim spoke made no sense to Rich. It was while the policeman tried to make sense of the words, that he noticed the tone change.


"I do what I need well. Rich, there are two of me. I occupy two facets of existence. The one that you have had encounters with is the wrong one. The other will only come when I call. I don't know how to call."


Rich made no sense of this either.


"What do you mean?"


Jim sighed."I seem to take the life of those I love. My woman. Caroline Johnson. I had feelings for her."


Rich noted a strain in the voice, as it continued.


"Why does this happen to me? It takes enough, that I find the ability to love someone. Yet they die. Why do I get blessed with this?"


Fenton felt the emotion that these words carried. It was enough to make one break into tears. He shook his head slowly.


A soft sound reached his ears. Looking up, the policeman saw the source. The man before him was crying. Fenton could not contain himself.


"You sonofabitch. Why are you doing that?"


Another figure appeared, misty, behind Dregar. It had long, dark hair.


The eyes were a soft silver.


Hi,baby. It is time.


Fenton shook his head in disbelief. It was her. Another figure yet appeared behind Dregar.


Daddy, come to us.


Dregar, locked his gaze on the policeman.


"It is time. I must go."


Before Rich's eyes, the figure of the man shimmered, then faded from view.


The trip felt different. Jim realized the sensation more akin to a flight than anything else. When the sensation of motion stopped, he saw what appeared to be a hallway in front of him.


Examining the scene, Jim noted that there was myriad doors lining the hallway. What appeared to be large timbers sat above the walls, above which opened into an opened beam ceiling. Atop one of these beams sat a grotesque, bat-like creature. Its eyes were brilliant crimson.


Choose a door


"What the hell is this?" Jim thought to himself.


Your mind.


Dregar whirled around. That voice had come from behind him, yet there was no one there.


Choose a door.


He walked slowly down the corridor, then paused in front of a door.
Reaching out to the knob, Jim hesitated.


Hello, love. I've missed you.


He looked behind, at the direction of the voice. He was greeted by the soft silver gaze, the long dark hair. She smiled back, nodding toward the door, then faded. A red rose fell to the floor where she had stood.
Jim turned the knob and entered.


This was an old frame structure that looked as though it had stepped out of a television western and was outgunned.



Jim rose to his full stature, walking purposefully toward the building. Oh Jesus. This was as a Hollywood western. Come on. What was this? Another cliche. If he met the director of this dream, he would severely maim him.


The door of the building swung open easily. Beyond, the breeze blew a small dust devil away from the door. The interior appeared the classic description of a barn. A loft filled with straw was above the main area. A ladder led up to this second floor. Carefully , Jim began the ascent up.


Upon reaching the top, he found an empty room to greet him.


Straw bails line but one side. The rest was quite bare. A number of boards lay upon the floor in a crossed pattern. Jim stepped into the center of the area.


"A little strange, isn't it?"


Jim whirled around. Standing where he had stepped up from the ladder, now stood what he had seen before. The faceless creature with the glowing red eyes.


"Stuck for words? You wanted to meet the producer of your dreams. I'm that. Yes, but so are you. What you see is merely stolen from your own mind. You always loved the dreams you had? Well, it is time to see one......for real."


Jim still could not find any words that would suit the predicament.


"Dear God. Get me out of this and I'll become a monk."


"That won't do any good. Obviously the pathetic excuse for the other hasn't the ability to help you. You are what I call basically fucked."


Jim stepped a few steps away from his antagonist. The glowing eyed figure followed.


"What the hell are you scared of. I promise to make your demise slow and painful. Yet, for you, it is inevitable. Perhaps I should clarify one thing. You do not die. I take your conscience. You merely become me."


The crimson glow flared wildly, reaching out to Jim's body.


As though struck with a board, he fell to his knees. Bolts of pain sparked through his head, causing him to see flashes before his eyes. All other senses were misty. Through this fog, Jim could hear the other laughing.


"What do you want of me?", Jim cried out.


The other stopped for a moment.


"I want your body, your relative. I cannot live without it. But first, I have to get rid of the other."


Jim found his vision clearing, slowly. As the room faded into view, he could see the other getting ready to strike another blow.


"Where the hell are you? I need you, now!"


This exclamation made the other stop for a moment. As if it were expecting something. The crimson eyes followed around in a complete circle of the building.


Satisfied that there was no threat, the other turned his attention back to Jim.


"Wake up, old boy. It's time for some more fun."


Again the crimson eyes intensified. The bolt shot out like lightening, burning into Jim's head. Intense pain was quieted by a mist closing over reality. That was ended by total loss of consciousness.


Rich Fenton burst through the doors of Kenton City Hospital. Running up to the desk, he slammed his fist down. The duty nurse turned to face him.


"Can I help you?" she asked, irritated.


Rich withdrew for a moment. Christ, this nurse was what nightmares are made of. She had her greying hair pulled back in a bun. She looked about fiftyish and several pounds overweight. The policeman's face contorted into a look of amazement mixed with nausea. Something that one would express upon seeing an old set of gym-socks growing mold in the corner.


"Yeh. Can you tell me what room Jim Dregar is in?" he asked.


"Visiting hours aren't for another few hours. Besides, Dregar is under police guard.", the nurse answered coldly.


"Surprise."


Rich removed his badge from his shirt pocket, waving it before the nurse's face. Her expression did not change.


"Room 163."


Rich nodded his thanks, moving off down the corridor.


"Glad I'm not in here for a sponge bath from you, lady." Fenton mumbled.


Evidently the nurse heard him.


"What was that?" she yelled.


"Oh, nothing." Rich yelled back," You probably give half the patients cardiac arrests."


Rich proceeded down the corridor to room 163.....Room 163. That was a coincidence. Wasn't that Johnson woman also kept in room 163? A police officer, previously sitting on a chair, stood to meet Fenton. Without missing a beat, Rich removed his identification and flashed it to the officer. After a quick scan, the officer allowed Rich to pass.


Upon opening the door, Rich's eyes fell upon the bed in which his friend lay. Although there were no machines attached to his body, short of the usual EKG, and an ugly looking tube ran into his nose, and an intravenous bottle dripped slowly into his arm. On the far side of the bed stood a doctor, intensely watching the EKG. Rich walked up to his side.


"What's going on?" he asked.


The doctor looked up momentarily, then returned to studying the printout issuing from the machine.


"Beats the hell out of me. This guy's heart has sped up. I can't figure out why. It's almost as if he was scared." the doctor responded.


Rich looked down on the face of his friend. Thoughts crossed his mind.


Come on, ole buddy. You've got to pull through.


I can't see you dying like an animal. You never gave up.


The doctor spoke again. "Strangest pattern I've ever seen."


"What's that?"


The doctor looked around.


"This heart pattern."


He held it out to Fenton.


"It's like this guy is missing part of his heart. See here," the doctor pointed to the paper," this is supposed to have a small bump up, then down, followed by the same pattern, but much larger. This guy is showing this."


Rich looked at the trace. The first part was normal, followed by the next, which was greatly extended, consisting of two upward pulses. The lower was missing. Rich looked at the trace again.


"What does it mean?"


The doctor chuckled.


"I've seen this trace before. In a fish."


"What are you saying?"


"This trace is indicative of a three-chamber heart. Yet this second bump on the last part of the trace isn't right."


Rich pointed to Jim's prone form.


"As you can see, this is no fish."


"No," the doctor replied, "but he isn't human."


This statement set Rich back. He stood silent for a moment, digesting what the doctor said. The doctor spoke again.


"A stab wound that penetrated through the abdomen, piercing the diaphragm, as well as the spleen. Nicked the lung, but not bad. A couple of pints of blood lost. Patient in a coma."


Rich turned to the doctor.


"Why the problem?"


"This guy should be awake, possibly even getting around."


"So why is he in a coma?"


The doctor looked Rich in the face, shaking his head, "I don't know."


Consciousness slowly returned to Jim. His head felt like it had been used as a jackstand for a car. Slowly, light filtered into his eyes. As images focused, he realized he was in comfortable surroundings. Before him stood the stereo stand that he was so used to.


"It was all a dream. Another nightmare."


Jim let his weight fall onto his arms.


Onto his arms?


Becoming fully alert, Jim realized that he was being held by his arms. Yet he wasn't hanging. His feet were on the floor, his arms were reaching above his head.


"Good morning, bright eyes." came a voice from behind.


Jim twisted around to look at the glowing eyes once again.


"Wakey, wakey. It's time to die."


Jim felt a slow rage build inside. The other stood from the chair, walking slowly towards him.


"That's it. Get angry. All the easier to defeat you. I thought that the other would have told you about the emotions. You're a smart fellow. Why do you not know about the Thierriessen? I have been in books."


Once again, Jim called out to the one who had said it would be there. Again, there was no response.


"It is futile. The other cannot help you. Let me in."


The red eyed creature reached out to Jim with a ghostlike hand.


Jim recoiled.


The being withdrew its hand.


"You are a tough one," it said, "Let us see how tough."


The creature turned away from Jim for a moment. It then turned back. With an out-stretched hand, it touched Jim on the chest, dragging the reach down to his hips. The feeling was as if getting charged by an electrified fence.


Jim screamed in pain.


As the other withdrew its hand Jim let his head fall to his chest, breathing heavily.


"You sonofabitch, I'm gonna kill you."


The other turned.


"I think that is the funniest thing I've heard all day. Spare me the melodrama, and I shall make it peaceful."


It moved away. Jim lifted his head to watch. The being walked slowly to the end table beside the chair. It looked down at the vase and the rose therein. Reaching down, it extracted the blossom, bringing it up to where the nose should have been.


"A red rose. How romantic. It is really amazing you like red roses, yet every thing else you like is blue."


Once again, the other turned.


"Here is something else that is blue."


The red -eyed other looked at his victim.


Jim felt a sharp sting on his leg. Looking down, he saw a blueish flame blowing out from his thigh. The flame spread until it covered a large area of his thigh. The pain was almost unbearable. Jim pulled his head back and shut his eyes, to try and hold his emotions. The thoughts moved through his mind.


Fire cannot survive without oxygen.


Jim cast an eye down, merely seeing a phantom-like pair of hands clasp over the burning area.


When the pain subsided, he opened his eyes again. Looking down at the burn, he now saw a blackened area of flesh. The area erupted, and several maggots fell out. Jim felt his stomach begin to turn, yet he still held his peace.


"My, you are a tough little prick. " Said the other.


It looked back to the rose it held in its hand. With a clenching fist, the rose was squeezed into a small mass.


"I know why you insist on these silly flowers."


Jim looked up to the other again. The face shimmered and disappeared. In its place formed the effigy of Caroline Johnson.


The voice sounded as if in his head.


"This is why you are so sentimental. You can have her again."


Jim saw the face as she had looked those many days ago, when she bid her good-byes at the office. It was a trick.


Jim closed his eyes. "Caroline Johnson is dead."


The face faded into the red eyed other again.


"Impressive. You have a lot of strength. Let's see your reaction to this."


Beside the other formed the face of one he had not seen for years. It was she who had died in that car accident years ago. The dark eyes. The dark, flowing hair.


Jim felt his heart in his throat.


"Yes." Said the other,"you still remember her. You still miss her. "


Jim could only stand and look at that which he'd lost so long ago.


"You see, she was more than you realized. She was one of the others as well. Why do you think you got along so well? Anyway, she, and your son were killed because of their abilities. You did not know your capabilities then, she did. With both you and her being of us, what do you think the boy would have been? Besides, she had reached her time before you. She would have helped you become one of them. That would not have been good for me. You understand why she had to die."


Jim felt weak.


"You know why she died?" asked Jim.


"Died? Actually, she didn't die. I removed her."


Jim felt himself go sour. The pain of that which had been welled again. He had felt that years ago. Yet, with the memory of her, Jim felt a warm comfort well inside, almost to make him smile.


That's it, Baby, remember me.


The voice was behind him again.


As best he could, Jim turned to see the long hair and the silver eyes.


A powerful surge welled forth into Jim's body. The grip on his arms relinquished. He stood up, clearing his throat. The other turned around to look at the disturbance. It was greeted by the silver stare.


"Sending a woman to do a man's job? Really."


The long-haired silver replied sharply.


"He isn't going to need my help."


The figure faded away.


That which was Jim lifted his head. His eyes opened.


They were now a powerful blue-silver.


Rich was sitting by the bed, when he noticed the EKG turn to a very fast beeping. He pressed the call button. Within seconds, the doctor, as well as a nurse, burst through the door. Spying the EKG, the doctor yelled orders.


"Give me Epinephrine, fast."


The nurse handed a loaded syringe. The doctor pushed in the needle into Jim's arm.


"Oh, Jesus Christ."


Rich asked, excitedly,"What's wrong?"


"This man is dying, and I don't know why."


"So I am going to have to meet you, after all," said the red eyed other.


"I guess you are."


The blue-silver eyed other looked like Jim Dregar save for the gaze. It wore a silly smirk on its face.


The red spoke again.


"This matters not. I'm going to have that body."


With a sudden move, the red flung the same crimson bolt toward the blue-silver, that it had thrown at Jim Dregar. The silver-blue slightly moved
its body out of the way of the bolt.



"You have to do better than that, fellow. You should know that you cannot be sure that she is dead."


Again, the red threw a bolt toward the blue-silver. Once again, it missed.


"What's the matter, missing your target?"


The bolt flew for a third time.


The red spoke.


"I am going to take this body."


The bolt fell short of its mark.


"I can do something you can't." the blue-silver exclaimed.


"Oh, and what might that be?"


"I am borne of two of us."


The red flung a gaze toward the heavens. The motion it began was never finished, and it stood as though locked in an eternal stance.


The blue-silver approached slowly, staring into the red eyes.


"You see, who is helpless now? I shall shift my relative immediately, leaving you with nowhere to go. I don't need the damn body."


You always had a good imagination.


Jim turned to the figure behind him.


She smiled and faded from view.


You'll see us again, love.


Turning his gaze back to the red, Jim also noted it to shimmer and disappear.


Rich Fenton watched as the EKG raced. The doctor worked feverishly to regulate the heartrate.


"Nurse! Five cc Epinephrine."


This had no effect. The EKG went wild.


"$%^&! We're gonna lose him."


Rich looked at the body. It seemed to vibrate slightly, then stabilize.


The EKG ran faster than the printout could trace.


Looking at the body of his friend, Rich watched as the eyes flew open. The body convulsed in an arch, away from the bed that contained it. A silent scream seemed to issue from the mouth.


The doctor ran to Jim's face, pushing a pen between his teeth.


"Defib now." ordered the doctor.


Before the command could be completed, the body froze for an instant. Gradually, the muscles relaxed, allowing the torso to fall back on the bed.


"We lost him."


The doctor moved to call the death. He pulled a penlight from his coat, intending to flash it in the eyes of the man laying upon the bed. His move wasn't completed.


"Holy $%^&, look at that."


The nurses cast their gaze toward the prone figure, their eyes widening.


All medical staff ran from the room.


Rich looked into the eyes of the body. They were a brilliant crimson.


After a moment they faded to a dull red.



Continued....

CHAPTER FIVE
The Funeral


Rich Fenton watched at the graveside as the coffin containing the body of his friend, was gradually lowered into the pit that was dug from the earth.


The preacher said a few words.


Rich could not help but notice that there were only a handful of people present, most of those being from O'Sullivan Marketing.


It looked like Jim had a very few friends.


It made Rich think of that funeral years ago.


Upon conclusion of the ceremony, Bill O'Sullivan approached Fenton.


"What the hell happened?"


Rich merely shrugged, what else could he do?


"Well he's gonna be sorely missed. Strange guy, but cared about everyone."


O'Sullivan turned and walked away.


Rich felt the need to have a drink. He found it strange that, somehow, he had the urge to go to the pub where Jim had his final drink.


Driving slowly into the parking lot, Fenton looked up at the building before him.


Walking through the front doors, Rich found himself in the dimly lit interior. There were very few patrons.


Rich bellied up to the bar. An attractive looking woman came up to him.


"Can I take your order?"


"Pint of Draught."


Rich watched the girl tap the required amount of the liquid, and return with the mug. Rich handed a five to the girl "Keep the change."


The bargirl did as she was told, then returned to sit opposite Rich.


"Surprised to see any new face in here after what happened the other day."


"Yeh. Especially since the guy who was stabbed was my friend." Rich returned.


A look of embarrassment crossed the girl's face.


"Oops."


"Don't worry about it. In a way, I knew it was coming."


"Yeh. Jim was a nice guy. A little strange, but nice in his own way."


"That's what everyone said. Jim was so nice, but no one actually gave a fat rat's *** about his feelings. Where was everyone that thought he was 'nice' when he needed them. They didn't give a $%^&. Then they wonder why he was so strange. He was only what they made him."


The bargirl became quiet. Gradually the conversation drifted off to other topics.


Why didn't you?


Fenton's eyes flew open. He had heard Jim's voice as though it was in the room with him. He realized that it was only a dream.


Turning over in bed, Rich traced the dream over.


I want to be burned.
I want my ashes scattered over the mountains.
I need your word.
Your word.


Rich sat up in bed. He had given his word. Sitting on the edge, he pulled on his clothes. The time was two-ten in the morning. He had a promise to keep to an old friend.


Driving the patrol car up to the cemetery, Rich could see that the gates were now locked. Stepping out of the car, he walked up to the fence. Rich looked down at the lock. It was of the old skeleton key style. $%^&, that can't be all that hard to pick. Reaching into his pocket, Fenton removed a small piece of metal.


After straightening it, he pushed the end into the hole of the lock. The metal scraped, then bound on something inside. Rich turned gently. The lock did not open. Rich withdrew the metal. The end of it had turned in a corkscrew fashion.


"Oh, for $%^&'s sake." he said.


Withdrawing his service revolver, Rich aimed at the lock, and fired. The pistol report was sharp in the night, then all was quiet. The gate swung quietly open.


Guiding the patrol car along the road, Rich pulled up beside the still open pit containing Jim Dregar's coffin. Stepping once again from the car, Rich walked over toward the hole. Just as he was nearing it, something caused him to stumble, and he pitched headlong into the hole.


After he regained his breath, Rich stood up in the hole. He had fallen about six feet. It was then, that he realized that there was no coffin in the hole. Climbing out of the pit, Fenton sat at the edge, attempting to figure out what he had tripped over. The answer lay on the ground before him. Looking over, Rich saw the coffin. Standing up, he walked around to the side, and lifted on the lid. The top swung open easily. Looking to the
interior, Rich saw the dim form of Jim Dregar. The eyes still glowed with a mild crimson.


Struggling to pick up the body, Fenton drug it to the passenger side of the patrol car. Propping the body against the car, Rich swung the door open. Then he shifted the body into an upright position in the passenger seat. Slamming the door ,the policeman walked around to the drivers side, and got in.


Looking over at the body, Rich said,"I have to be @#$%^&* crazy."


The patrol car turned out onto the main road leaving the area of the cemetery. Fenton still felt the uneasiness of have a dead "thing" in the car with him. What the hell was he supposed to do now?


BURN


Rich shook his head.


"I don't believe this."


Turning the car to the other side of town, Rich drove until the name illuminated the night.


Pinetree Funeral Home.


Rich turned into the drive.


Exiting the car, the policeman walked up to the door. Turning the knob, Rich found that this, too, was locked.


"Tonight is not my night."


Rich flipped out a credit card, and wedged it into the door jamb. With a minimum of fuss, the door opened. Fenton stood back with a self satisfied look on his face.


Returning to the passenger side of the patrol car, he lifted the body out of the seat and headed into the building.


Walking down the hallway, Fenton checked several rooms until he found the one he wanted. Opening a heavy fire door, Rich reached out for a switch. Feeling something, he lifted on it, and the lights to the room came alive. Greeting him from across the room stood a gaunt, grey furnace. Rich smiled.


Dragging the body under his arm, Rich crossed the room to the door of the furnace. A large lever gave way easily to Fenton's grasp, and the steel door lifted upwards, revealing the interior of the crematorium.


Letting Jim's body fall to the floor, Fenton grasped the interior slide with both hands. A table about eight feet long, slid out. Rich, then reached under the corpse's arms and lifted it onto the table. Rich could not help but look into Jim's face one last time. Those red eyes still seemed alive. Rich slid the table back into the furnace.


Slamming the door shut, Rich felt of the button to the side marked "BURNER". The flame roared to life.

Rich stood back to wait. It was then, that he noticed the sound. Along with the roar of the flames, Rich was sure that he could hear the screaming.


As if someone was dying.


As though he was burning someone alive.


The sound passed after a few moments, along with the recognizable form of Jim Dregar.


"What the hell is going on down here?"


Fenton turned to see an elderly man behind him.


"Who the hell are you?", the policeman asked.


"I'm the Goddamn owner. Who the hell are you?"


Fenton showed his badge.


The other man seemed satisfied, then walked beside.


"Did you kill it?"


Rich looked at him in shock.


"What was that?", he inquired.


The older man looked him squarely in the face.


"Did you kill it?"


"I think so." replied Fenton.


The older man turned away, and walking to a table on the other side of the room, retrieved a pewter urn.


Upon returning to the policeman's side, he stated," this'll take awhile."


When the flames died down, the elder man turned the burner off and opened the crematorium door.


"I'll help with the ashes", he spoke.


Together, the two men filled the urn.


"That should do it", spoke the older man.


Fenton turned to him with a puzzled look.


"Why did you ask me if I killed it. Do you know what is going on?"


"Oh definately, I been following this for a very long time. A very long time indeed."


Rich felt increasingly uncomfortable.


"You are aware of this Thierreisen creature?", he asked.


The other man looked towards the floor, and laughed.


"Yes, you could say that."


"What do you know about it?", asked Fenton, becoming increasingly uncomfortable.


The old man spun around to face him. The face was as an older version of Jim. The eyes were a soft silver.


"He was my grandson."


The old man smiled, as his figure shimmered.


Fenton could only stand in shock, as he watched the figure dissolve.


This was followed by a series of figures, first a child, then the woman with the long dark hair, and finally the face of his friend.


Jim looked at Rich with those glowing silver-blue eyes.


"Good-bye, old friend".


The image faded, as a red rose fell to the floor.



EPILOGUE


The time was ten-fourty. Rich Fenton cradled the pewter urn in his lap. The pilot maintained his gaze straight ahead, as the men flew along in the little airplane.


A few birds flew along with the plane as it bounced along the air currents that rose off the tops of the mountains.


His mind went over the conversation he had this morning.


"Hi, Sarge. This is Rich."


"Ah, did you get your buddy?"


"No, he is sort of dead."


"Hmm, too bad. Can't try him now."


"With all due regard, Sir, he has already been tried."


"What?"


"Oh, and Sir, you can come up here and pick up the car."


"What the hell are you talking about, Fenton?"


"I quit."


It didn't make sense.


Why did a person who seemed so human deserve to die. It is always the good ones. Fenton's mind drifted into the quiet again.


"Hey, ole buddy!"


Rich started, that voice was in his head, as real as the purr of the engine.


"Yes, my friend.What you hold is what is left of my mortal body.Who am I? I am The Riseing. I am but one of the many that will still be alive long after you are gone."

Fenton felt more was to come.


The voice inside continued.


"Remember, that there are us that walk among you, that do, that seem "different". We are but the ones that try, and,although we seem to hurt others, do so for the better. And still, there are others like myself,that are yet to understand.To be understood. I tried to help some of them, they refused to believe in what they were and they must now
learn on their own. In time,all will be apparent. We shall meet again, old friend."


Rich fought to pull his attention to the voice beside him.


The pilot looked over at Rich.

"This do?"


Rich looked out of the window. Off in the distance, he could see a beautiful mountain lake. He pointed it out to the pilot. The plane banked toward the lake. Rich thought back to the man whose ashes he now carried. In his left hand, Fenton carried a long stemmed red rose. Rich
smiled as he looked at the blossom. It seemed fitting to a man that loved the red rose as much as life.


The thoughts came to Rich.


What was his friend,whom he now carried in his lap?


An Earthbound Angel?


A demon?


Or are there "Others" that we cannot explain?


The world has so many unexplained occurances, that people put off to a religion, to science, or, when they cannot explain what happens and it doesn't fit into their "niche", simply discard.


Rich then made a pact to himself.


"I will question everything, and ignore nothing. All is possible."


The lake was below the aircraft, and the pilot put the plane in a gentle turn over the shore. Rich waited until the plane dropped to a thousand feet above the shimmering water.


Opening a small window, Rich pulled the top on the urn, allowing the contents to spill into the airstream. He watched as the grey ash fell beyond view.


Looking back to the rose, Rich said softly, "Good-bye, old
friend."


As his hand released the blossom, Rich would swear he saw a silver-blue flash from the shore below, but that must be the sun playing tricks.


The plane made one last turn over the lake, then headed off into the distance. As the noise settled to quiet, the red rose fell gently towards the ground. Before it hit, a hand caught it.

The hand put the flower up to the face. The silver-blue eyes gazed towards the plane as it disappeared over the mountains. A slow smile crossed the face.


"You now understand."




[scrollright]THE END[/scrollright]