Sometimes there's nothing worse than being ignored.  Yeah, I'll admit it's probably better than getting beat up, but damn it, I wanted some answers.  My abductors drove me to the opposite side of the Albany airport, to a place where smaller private planes were parked, and then prodded me aboard a small Cessna.  I had to go to the bathroom.  Prozac and I were allotted our own seat, where I was securely belted in.  We're not just talking seat belt, but heavy duty insurance that I remain seated at all times, though I couldn't help but squirm periodically.  The only other occupant of the plane besides the pilot and myself was this goon I had clubbed with my forearm cast for putting his hand on my ass during my abduction.  Neither of them were paying much attention during the flight, though I knew the goon was discretely keeping an eye on me.  By the time we landed I was in excruciating pain, the kind where you empathize with those who suffer from urinary maladies.  Thankfully, there was a bathroom in the small hanger at the end of the grassy runway, and they allowed me to use it.
        The sign over the door read Tunkhannock Airfield.  I'd never heard of the place.  I wasn't necessarily troubled though, at least I was in the United States – and on Earth.  Would I ever get used to the idea that aliens do exist?  Oh Adam, I was so angry with you when you stole me from Earth and everything I knew.  Where was that anger now?  I knew it was replaced with positive emotions.  Prozac was busy smelling everything inside the bathroom and I was afraid she might catch some fatal disease because it was the filthiest room  I had ever seen.  Greasy dirt lined every object, including the toilet seat, so I was careful not to touch anything.  It seemed like a good idea to scout around to see if there were any useful items that I could use as weapons.  I did find a disgusting used disposable razor and a thankfully unused mini bar of soap, which I slipped into my sock.  You never know.
        The goon was outside of the door waiting for me to come out.  Blam!  The door banged shut, pulled taunt by a spring once let go.  We both jumped.  The place seemed deserted.  I looked, but saw no one who may have been able to help me - not a soul.  It was eerie, in a way reminiscent of Stephen King's novel, The Stand, where a plague wipes out the world except for a small cluster of survivors, who find the husk of society, free standing buildings left empty of their occupants.   The echo of our footsteps within the hanger was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of my neck.  I couldn't wait to get outside, feeling as if I were being pursued by demons or something equally uncanny.  My uncommunicative companion escorted me to a car, his hand hesitantly resting on my elbow.  The car was an old green Impala with more rust flakes enveloping it than paint.  I laughed out loud – it couldn't be helped.  The goon looked at me sideways and I asked him what his name was but he didn't answer.  He was probably still pissed about me using my cast as a battering ram against his face.  Then again, he shouldn't be too upset.  I barely grazed the skin and he didn't have a mark on him!  Jumping from Adam's speeding car a few months ago was how I broke that arm, and a concussion landed me in a coma for almost a week.  I would never forget that voice I heard in my head during my coma, the voice of Heracles.  It was his voice that helped bring me through.  I jumped because Adam had planned on taking me back to his compound because my sister Sammy escaped from him.  I hated him then, though would gladly trade places now.  Shaking my head, I thought of Sammy.  I still didn't know where she was.
        My captor didn't tie me up, allowing Prozac and me to just sit in the passenger seat of the Impala.  For that I was thankful.  The flight had been a short one, probably less than two hours, so I figured we were in New England and possibly still in New York State, which I found obscurely comforting.
        We left the airfield behind us in a cloud of dust, the only paved area was the larger landing strip.  The roads had that small town look to them – you know – no yellow lines down the middle, with crumbly shoulders and all.  Plus we were surrounded by trees and fields, another indicator of a rural area as opposed to urban.  The goon seemed antsy when I rolled my window down, but I didn't care.  It was a beautiful day and I wanted air.  The sun was out and I could smell the green from the surrounding fields – the aroma was like coming home even though it smelled slightly different from what I was used to.  The goon need not have worried, the last thing I wanted to do was jump out of another moving car.  Not unless I really had to.  Feeling pretty bold, I reached over and turned the radio on.  He didn't try to stop me.  The FM stations weren't any that I recognized and I skipped from station to station, partly to find a good song and partly because I could see it was annoying the goon.  That will teach him to ignore me.  I moved from Tom Petty singing, "You got lucky babe, when I found you," to a tampon commercial, to the Carpenters.  Here I was, kidnaped again, but I didn't feel as if I were in imminent danger while sitting in the car scanning the airwaves.  My captor actually seemed more like a baby-sitter, and not a bright one at that.  You know, the kind you could fool into letting you stay up later than allowed or who could probably be scammed for snacks.  Eventually I stopped channel jumping, settling for Patsy Cline's, Crazy, which I unabashedly sang in a loud voice.  There was something about that song I always liked even though I generally despised Country music.  I lustily sang to Prozac, who was loving it.  "Crazy - I'm crazy for feline' soo lonneeely – II'mmm crazy – craazzy for feelinnn' so blooo.  I knew – you'd love me as lonng as you wantedddd – and then somedayy – you'd leave me for some boddy neww."  I waggled Prozac's yellow lab ears and felt her tongue on my face, which interrupted my mini concert for a moment.  "Oh whoa crazy - for thinkin' that my luvvv could hollddd yoo.  I'm crazy for tryin' – and crazy for cryin' – and I'm crazzzy for lovvviinn' - yoooo."
        The song ended and the goon finally spoke.  "You sang that like you meant it."
        Watching the countryside go speeding by for a while, I paused then eventually answered.  "I did mean it."
        "Were you singing to Rion or to Adam?"
        "Both,"  I answered promptly.  "But hey how do you know –"
        "We know a lot about you."  He said this with a smugness that I didn't care for.
        "Who are you?"  I asked, but he stared at the road.  "Come on – I want to know what's going on!"
        He flinched at my tone, which was near a shriek but he ignored me.  The passing countryside drew my attention again and I settled back with my head resting against the cracked headrest.  I began to think back to the day my life changed.  Funny, it wasn't even a year ago the day Sammy took me to see Rion – though it felt like a thousand.

        "Where are you going?"  I asked Sammy as she turned left onto a somewhat rutted dirt road.
        "Shhhh, I need to show you something."  She barely piloted the black hatchback around turn after turn.  The car seemed to bounce from one hole to the next.
        I knew where I was, though I had never been down this particular road before.  If Sammy had a surprise for me I knew better than to try and find out what it was.  She never told.
        The road was barely plowed and not well traveled.  Still she drove on, climbing a small hill until a house came into view.  It had a dark ominous shape with a murky shadow.  I had never seen it before but I had a strange feeling.  It was a fight between foreboding and comfort.
        "What . . . is this?"  Turning toward her, I wondered why I was so apprehensive.
        She shook her blond streaked hair free of her hat.  "I knew you'd want to see him before we left."  She said this as a firm matter of fact.
        I knew who she was talking about but I had to say his name.  "Don't tell me Rion."  I practically felt his presence.
        "It's where Rion is, creepy as it may seem."  She brought the car to an abrupt halt near the front of the house and reached across me pushing my door open.  "Go on Deianira, don't glare at me like that.  I know you and know that you want to see him!"
        The look I threw in her direction may have seemed like anger or maybe nonchalance, but she was right.  I was just afraid because it had been so long since I had seen him and I knew it was too late.  "He married that bitch . . ."  I sounded like a little child.
        Sammy's eyes looked sad.  "I know, but that was his mistake – not yours."  She pushed my shoulder toward the open door.  "Let him see just how much of a mistake he made!  Personally, I wouldn't go into that house for a hundred bucks, but hey, how's the song go, something about doing anything for love and all that shit."  She nudged me again, this time with her boot.  "You love him.  You can't help it and until you put him to rest you're making yourself miserable and me too!"
        "And what, I'm just supposed to stroll up to the front door and demand to see Rion?  How did you find him, Sammy?"
        "Let's just say he wants to see you.  Why he wanted to meet here, I couldn't tell you."  At once she became impatient.  "Do what you have to do, either go or shut the damn door!"  Her face looked slightly chubby when she bit her lip like that.  She turned away examining the barn which seemed as menacing as the house.  "You know what you need.  I can't make you do anything."  She suddenly swung her head about and glared at me.  "I never could."
        I got out of the car without saying another word and found myself shivering from the cold.  In the winter wearing a heavy  jacket in the car made me feel hot and trapped, so it was in the back seat.  Glancing back toward my jacket in the rear seat, I got a good look at Sammy's facial expression.  She was impossible when she had that look on her face.  Even though she was six years younger than me I felt we were equals.
        She was right about many things, foremost being that this house wasn't somewhere a smart person would want to be.  If I took every image of horror movie houses I had ever seen, put them together and made the mid-section sag precariously more than the ends, then I could imagine the house I was seeing.  Sensing myself being propelled toward the front door, I became aware that the silence of the scene was the loudest sound I had ever heard.  My sneakers smashed the unbroken snow on the steps, crunching it like desiccated brittle bones.  Doesn't the squeal of the snow sound a little like lobsters screaming as the life is slowly singed from them?  With this in mind I tapped on the door.  I felt an overwhelming urge to turn away, to run back to the car screaming for Sammy to get us out of here, but the door began to open.  Staring into the widening opening, I discovered Rion's intense eyes locked with my own.  All I could see was the blue.  We had always joked about stupid movies where the characters became lost in each other's eyes.  Now I felt hypnotized.  I never saw him reach for me, I only knew I was inside the rickety house and it was dark and Rion was grasping me as if I were a helium balloon that would float away forever if he let go of the string.
        "Let me go, damn it!"  I tried pushing him away knowing a large part of me wanted to feel his touch, while a larger part rebelled with good cause.
        "You're right," he sighed, responding to the unspoken wall that would probably always exist between us now.  He carefully extricated his hands from my long hair.  "Give me your hand."
        I felt his hand smother mine and then he was pulling me.  "Where are you taking . . ." was all I could say before he rushed me through the dark so fast I could barely keep my balance.  The house had looked damp from the outside so I half expected to smell dampness but all I inhaled was warm dust.  It was surprisingly warm in the house, although I had noticed no smoke coming from the chimney as Sammy and I drove up.  The hand that he imprisoned tingled between my fingertips all the way to my shoulder from the simple knowledge that he touched it.
        "We have to be very careful," Rion called over his shoulder.  "There are many things you don't know."
        At this point I didn't want to know anything he had to tell me, I just wanted to be back in the gloomy daylight feeling the cold wind against my face as I got back into the car with Sammy.  "Rion!  Stop!"  Digging my sneakers into what I thought was lumpy carpet, I jerked my arm back.  His grasp was not broken but he did stop.  "Just wait, this is worse than a funhouse," I panted, "and I'm not having any fun!"  He didn't answer, just held my hand gently but firmly in the blackness.  Never in my life had I been so aware of another person as I struggled to catch my breath.  Against my better judgment I felt myself bringing his hand to my face, feeling the smoothness of it.  Suddenly we were embracing once again, this time mutually.  "Rion, we . . ."  But there were no words to say.  We stood together for a moment, then he began to lead me onward again, only slower.
        "We're almost there."  He whispered hoarsely.  A faint grayness appeared ahead of us, and then, a door.

        The room was dim and gray, crowded with dusty furniture.  The cause of the dimness was probably the filth that caked the windows.  Rion finally let go of my hand and stood very still in the center of the room.  Surveying the surroundings with my back against the hardwood door, I held my hand on the knob.  I didn't understand any of this.
        "Why am I here Rion."  My voice didn't crack as it had in the car.  It was extremely difficult to examine him.  He looked the same as he always had.  His light brown hair seemed to shimmer, even in this dim light.  It contoured his face, which did look thinner.
        "I wanted to see you before you left."  He fervently stared at my face.  "No, that's a lie."
        "Now, there's something new – Rion telling a lie!"
        While ignoring my sarcasm he strode over to a puffy looking couch now gray with filth.  "Deia, I want to warn you, I don't know if I can protect you."  He sat, sending up a cloud of dust.
        "Protect me from what?  In two days I'll be in Florida.  I'll be far away from here and all these lousy memories!"
        There was a look of pain in his eyes.  "No you won't.  You'll never get to Florida."  His muscular arms were locked in a tense position.  He looked up from clenched hands.  "I'm sorry Deia.  I swear to you that I'll do everything I can."
        "What the hell are you talking about?  You married Eve, you stabbed me in the heart and I'm moving to Florida."  Ever since Sammy and I had driven in sight of the house I felt an internal tension that now wanted to explode.
        "Eve wasn't who she seemed to be.  I can't explain it all to you . . . you have to take off – and I mean somewhere where nobody knows where you're going, including me."
        "Why?"  He was starting to make me nervous but I didn't want him to see that.
        "Because Eve is jealous of you –"
        "Jealous of ME!"  I interrupted, yelling, "She came in and single handedly ruined everything!  I lost my job, my friends – she has you – don't get a swelled head but you were – and I repeat were the most important person in my life.  How she did it I don't know and don't want to know.  All I do know is it's finished – I leave for Florida in two days!  Whatever you're talking about doesn't matter, and I'm not in the mood for games.  I'm leaving."  The knob turned easily in my hand.  I had no idea how to find my way back to the front door but I didn't care.  I had to get away from this house and my past.  My hatred toward Eve for being Rion's wife and hatred toward Rion for marrying her and leaving me was overwhelming.
        "You have to listen to me!"  He slammed the door shut and held both my hands so tightly that they hurt.  "Eve can hurt you, yes, but it's her brother that you need to worry about.  Adam is cruel, bitterly cruel – he loves his sister almost as much as I love you and yes, I do love you."  He dropped my hands and walked over to the crusty windows.  "That's why you're in danger.  I'm sorry."
        My back was still against the door and I could taste his fear now.  Confusion dominated.  Being dragged through the dark to hear a long awaited profession of love didn't make sense in the context of his statements.  Logic seeped through the confusion.  "Okay, hold on a minute.  Are we discussing the same guy?  Adam Mann doesn't seem that cruel to me.  Rion, he's one of the nicest guys I know."
        "That's because you don't really know him or what he's involved in . . ."
        "What do you mean, is he part of the Mafia?  If you love me so much why did you marry Eve?"
        He ignored the later question refusing to take his eyes off the bleak winter fields.  "It's not easy to explain . . . no, not the Mafia.  You're going to think I'm crazy – the truth is – they're not of this world."
        I stared at him blankly, thinking, that sounds like something Adam would say.
        "Their kind are everywhere, you know.  It's not that they aren't human, they are I guess, they're, like, a different species or something.  They can't mate with us, and don't think that didn't piss Eve off.  She wants to appear as human as possible, family and all.  They aren't evil though, don't get me wrong – they just needed a place to live.  Like in those fucking Sci. Fi. movies we used to watch . . ."
        I laughed and let go of the door.  "You can't expect me to believe you!  OOOH space aliens . . . Yeah, right, Eve a bitch alien I'll believe."
        Rion turned from the window and rushed across the room pinioning me against the door.  "Be careful what you say – please!  Hitler was human, but Adam isn't and they're both monsters.  He'll do anything for Eve and he hates me.  He'll use you to punish me."
        His demeanor was undeniably believable.  "Then where can I go?  If they're everywhere won't they find me?"
        He rubbed his forehead against mine.  "I don't know.  Adam is determined.  I'll bet if he looked he would find you no matter where you went . . . it's the only thing I can think of though –"
        That was when we heard the crash.

        For a moment I couldn't figure out where I was.  My head swung wildly from side to side.  Yes, I was in a car – the rusty Impala.  Unbelievably I must have fallen asleep.  Prozac seemed happy to see me moving.  She yipped and licked at my face.  Humm, she was a gift from Adam, I thought, as I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes again.

        After the crash Rion and I heard sounds of a struggle.
        "Sammy . . ." was all I could say.  The look on Rion's face chilled me.
        "Stay here.  I'll go see what's going on."  I stepped away from the door and he disappeared through it.  His head was back in the opening as soon as his rangy body had left.  "Don't leave this room Deianira, this house can be dangerous.  Don't worry, I won't let anyone hurt you or Sammy."  Then I could hear his muffled footsteps running through the darkness.
        I wasn't thrilled about being left alone.  Why hadn't I gone with him?  Walking to the grubby window, I peered through the small panes of glass but could see nothing but snow covered fields.  The sound of a dog yipping seemed miles away.  It made me feel lonely.
        The house seemed to hum, though I felt it more than heard it.  I put my hand against the wall, fingers resting on the aged wallpaper, but I couldn't feel a perceptible vibration.  Maybe my nerves were shot.  When I brought my hand away from the wall small pieces of cracked wallpaper clung to my fingers like confetti.  I wiped my hand on my jeans.  You would think a house like this would be drafty, storm battered walls letting outside air seep in through seasoned holes, yet there was hardly any air moving through the walls.  In fact it felt quite snug.
        I decided to focus on the contents of the room to ease my fears.  Sammy was the second toughest person I knew, myself being the first.  Maybe I should fear for whoever decides to bother her.  She's fine, I kept repeating.
        The amount of dust that lined every object within sight was incredible.  No one could live here, at least in this room.  Besides the puffy couch there was a ratty shredded cloth chair that looked uncomfortable, and an ancient desk.  An oblong mirror hanging behind the desk reflected a portion of my image, enough to see spider webs trailing from my dark hair like strands of gray.  My eyes had bags beneath them.  I looked exhausted.  That was all I could examine through the dust.  I couldn't even distinguish the green of my eyes.  There were quite a few objects sitting on the desk.  Clearing the dust away from a small picture frame revealed a pleasant looking young woman smiling in an obviously old photograph.
        "You may meet her someday."  A voice from behind my back startled me and I dropped the frame.  I turned quickly toward this voice I knew to be Adam's.
        "Hello Adam, it's been a while."  He stood where Rion had been a few minutes ago.  He appeared nonchalant in faded jeans and white Reebok high tops.  His gray shirt had its sleeves rolled up and I couldn't help noticing his hair had grown longer, drastically-black loose curls almost touching his shoulders.  I had no idea what to expect after hearing Rion's accusations.  "Where's Rion?"
        "He had to leave quite suddenly."  He bent down retrieving the photo I dropped.  "You are in my capable hands now."
        "I heard a crash a few minutes ago."  I said, edging away from him.  "Where's my sister?"  His left Reebok was untied, I noted.
        He continued cleaning the dust from the picture not looking at me.  "You will see young Samantha very shortly."  I was almost to the door, moving very slowly.  "She has not been harmed if that is what you think," he replaced the picture on the desk, "and neither will you be."  Adam faced me with a critical glance.  "Do not bother with a retreat Deianira, there is no where to go."
        I wasn't about to take his word for it so I rushed through the door.  Maybe it was a mistake.  The hall was as black as during my arrival, and I was sure to get lost, but getting away seemed a bigger priority than fumbling around in a dark passage.  I ran gingerly forward with my arms outstretched feeling a wave of fear once I became totally engulfed in the blackness.  I had only made one left turn in the passage when Adam seized my arm.
        "You stupid fool, this passage is more of a danger to you than I am."
        I fought his commanding grip, trying to pry his fingers off my arm.  "Just let me go," I murmured through clenched teeth, "I'll be across the country in two days."  He chuckled and somehow wound his arms around my body, compressing me in a bear hug from which I couldn't move.
        "Eve doesn't want you on the face of the Earth, Darling," he whispered with his lips touching my ear.  I could feel his breath in the darkness as we wrestled silently for a moment.  He was probably six inches taller than my five foot ten but I opposed his hold anyway.  "What Eve wants I give."  He held my arms with one hand and used the other to turn the orb in my crystal ball ring.  "What do you see in my future now?"
        "Adam, you're hurting me –"
        His clenched hands barely loosened their grip.  "You will not be harmed, after all, you are a valuable commodity.  Your sister may have a use as well . . ."
        Mentioning Sammy gave me a burst of energy and I almost broke free.  Both his arms clamped down again, this time so hard I couldn't breathe.
        He loosened his grip slightly but I knew I couldn't move.  "That is it, just relax," he soothed.  "I convinced Eve that you do not need to die; you have something she needs . . ."
        "I wouldn't give that bitch any –"  He squeezed again forcing all the air from my lungs.
        "Now, now, Darling, never speak about Eve in that tone, understand?"  I nodded my head and he relaxed his grip again.  "I want you to know that I am fond of you Deianira.  If circumstances were different, then the outcome would be different would it not?"
        "Why are you doing this?"  I managed to wheeze.  "You've always been a friend to me –"
        He gently kissed my cheek and sighed.  "Complications run rampant in this chaotic universe.  And – what Eve wants I give.  Close your eyes now, it is time."
        At once the blackness that surrounded me poured into my mind.  My last conscious recollection was Adam whispering, "It will not be terrible –"  Then I thought I heard, "I promise no one will hurt you –"  But I couldn't be sure because everything ceased to exist.

        That day changed my life.  It was hard to believe everything that had occurred between then and now.  I glanced at the goon, only now he looked more like a peevish teen instead of a kidnapper.  He saw that I was awake and spoke.
        "You wanted to know who we are."
        "Yeah –"  I answered tentatively, not knowing why he decided to answer my questions.
        "We are what you could say, an opposing political party from the one Adam belongs to."
        "So you're aliens then?"
        "Yes."  I had figured as much.
        "And you intend on using me against Adam in some way?"
        "Yes."
        "That's wonderful.  Can I ask what the problem is?"
        He snuck a quick glance at me.  "No.  I'm not at liberty to discuss that."
        "Why?"  I really hated it when people spoke as if they were playing some dramatic role in a less than good movie.  Plus, I was pissed at the fact that he had clammed up again.  "Hello – I'm talking to you!"  I yelled.  It was kind of enjoyable to see him flinch.
        "LOOK – I – CAN'T – TELL – YOU!"  He yelled back at me, this time I flinched and Prozac growled.
        "Okay – fine."  We remained silent for the remainder of the drive.  For the life of me I couldn't shake the feeling that we were two children pouting, each mad because we disagreed on some earth shattering issue like whose tongue was longer or something.  It was ridiculous, but I found myself crossing my arms and glaring sideways at the driver.  Although I stopped myself once I realized how childish this behavior was.  Eventually he pulled off onto a meandering dirt road with a beat up 'dead end' sign hanging askew from an ancient fence post near the road.  After a few miles I saw our destination, a paint peeled colonial farmhouse that had seen better days.  The closer we got, the more my apprehension grew. This dude may have been quiet but he exuded a sense of harmlessness and I had no idea what I would encounter next.
        As soon as the car came to a complete stop a crowd of men seeped out of the front door, gawking at Prozac and me.  In all honesty I was scared shitless and didn't want to get out.  The driver got out and abruptly disappeared into the house leaving me as the focal point of interest.  I sat there, not knowing exactly what to do.  No one told me to get out of the car.  In fact, not one of the men said a word to me.  They just stood staring as if I were an apparition.  Prozac was busily wagging her tail, looking from the crowd to me back to the crowd, as if she were urging me to get on with it.  How long did I sit there?  It felt like years.  Finally, I put my hand on the door handle and opened it, astounded by the look of shock on every face watching me.  What the hell was this, the dull-witted faction of aliens?
        As I took my first step from the car the crowd suddenly scattered at the sound of a very unpleasant voice; one that screamed, "Get your fucking heads together you damn imbeciles!  What the hell?"  I had a split second to form a mental picture of the owner of this voice, like you might do with a radio announcer. Neither picture, (the one real nor the one imagined), was good news.  The imagined man was a hard ass military type, a cross between John Wayne in The Sands of Iwo Jima and the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket, whatever his name was.  The actual man stood tall with hands on hips, insanely broad shoulders busting with the most menacing muscles I'd ever witnessed.  His long blond hair was arranged into two braids much like a stereotypical Native American, one resting on each side of his thick neck.  In many ways I identified this guy with Thor.  If he had a huge hammer in his hand I would have believed the Norse mythological figure had come to life.  He strode down the steps as if they weren't there, grabbing my arm and yanking me in the direction of the front door.  He seemed to hoist me up the steps before my feet had a chance to feel for solidness beneath them.  Even Prozac was having a hard time keeping up; I could feel the leash grow taunt as she was dragged along.  All I could think of was that cliché, take me to your leader, although in this case the leader was taking me with him.  He whisked me through the front door into the house, which, from what I saw, was sparsely furnished if furnished at all – wooden boxes sat scattered about the room we rapidly moved through.  He propelled me toward the back of the house and there was something in the intensity of his movements that alerted me to the presence of real danger.
        "Hey Thor – you're hurting my arm . . ."  Was the wise ass statement I finally managed to spit out before I immediately felt regret.  He squeezed tighter, reaching around with his other hand, slamming my head into a passing doorjamb.  Stunned, I felt my body sag involuntarily, though he kept his swift pace, now holding me beneath both arms with his arm behind my back.  I knew that his free hand really didn't need to be cupping my left breast as it was, but, I was in no condition to actively resist the violation.  The slam into the doorjamb effectively reduced me to putty.  Could this blow to the head re-aggravate my concussion?  I had to wonder because I now felt Heracles' presence in a conscious way, different from when I was in a coma after smashing my head and arm on a roadside a few months ago.  Heracles was a voice that helped me through my coma but was doing nothing for me now.
        It was pretty frightening.  My legs grew leaden and I felt myself being carried up a flight of creaking stairs.  The smell of musky sweat was thick in the close air, a smell I more than subconsciously recognized, the smell of erection.  My paralysis was physical, not just mental, as I felt him drop me onto a mattress.  The inner mind worked, rationalizing by the inertia of the drop that the mattress must be on the floor without the support of a frame.  Even though I couldn't get my eyes open it seemed as if I could see everything happening.  I heard him unzip my jeans, slowly, as if he knew the hell he was inflicting.  Soundlessly I screamed, hearing the cry bounce from cavern to cavern inside my deserted brain, feeling his large hands reach inside my shirt shredding the cloth from the inside out . . . I heard the small plastic clip from my bra bounce off the wall behind my head and felt the weight become dispersed as my breasts slid sideways, each going a separate way now that they were freed from the constraints of the bra.
        My eyes were slowly coming open, though everything I saw seemed enveloped in a milky white film and my fingers began to twitch.  It was the only movement I could make, though much more than I had been capable of moments before.  His hands kneaded my breasts as if he were working two balls of pizza dough, his fingers sunk in and I could tell he was trying to hurt me.  Inevitably, I felt his right hand slide down my abdomen and into my underwear.  I was certain I heard myself sob because it seemed to startle him enough for his hand to stop just before his fingers reached their goal, but the pause was minuscule and I felt my breath gasp in with a shudder when they penetrated my vagina.  I became detached.  His face had a cold look of determination, not a look of pleasure you might think someone in his position would have.  He avoided looking into my eyes and I noticed he was biting his lower lip.  I was able to slightly rock myself to the left which made him withdraw his hand to reach back and pin my arms back behind my head.
        He really need not have bothered.  My arms were feeling weak in comparison to the overwhelming urge of smashing him full force.  The smell of sex was on the hand that held my arms and I heard him fumble with his zipper, getting it part way down then encountering resistance.  In my near panicked state of mind I clung to the symbolism as a sign of hope.  After all, if the zipper won't yield, then maybe . . . No, he freed it and shimmied his jeans down with his free hand.
        Hadn't Adam laughed once at the thought of me being afraid?  "You are the strongest woman I have ever met Deianira."  He had boasted once.  Adam's words now mocked me.  Why couldn't I be strong now?  Instead, I was practically comatose, limbs flaccid when they should have been rigidly defending themselves – defending ME.  Where was my Heracles, the strength of my mind?  Why would he forsake me at a time like this?  The sense of hopelessness was overwhelming and my mind kept repeating, so this is what it's like to be raped, as I felt him pulling my jeans off my hips.  He didn't bother pulling them off, he shimmied them down to my knees, and then straddled me with an air of determination.  I held my breath as I felt the tip of his penis begin to press into my vagina and then there was a crash.
        "What in the Hell do you think you are doing?"  A crackly and stern woman's voice cut through the room, startling both of us.  He rolled from the mattress.  I saw him from the corner of my eye busily yanking and re-zipping his jeans as he stuttered unintelligibly.
        "Answer me!"  She hissed.  Turning my head I saw a little old lady stroll across the room and bat at my attacker with a three pronged orthopedic cane.
        "I . . ."  He gasped, as he put his arms over his face.  "You know how much I hate him . . . and . . . how much she means to him . . ."  The words spilled out in between cracking blows.
        "Get – out – of – here."  She ordered.  "If ever you look on this girl with foolish intent I will kill you."  He tripped over himself attempting to exit the room.  She hobbled toward me, though I sensed her gait was much more capable.  The metal cane reached over me and hooked itself on a sheet which she pulled over my nakedness.  The musty smell made my nose twitch.  She turned away without explanation, and I heard the door close behind her.  Within a minute it reopened and I tensed up, fearing the attack would continue where he left off.  Instead, I was joined by the only entity that I could trust, and I felt her licking the blood from my head.  That was my last clear perception, Prozac's sandpaper like tongue cleansing my scalp, comforting me in the best way she knew how.

        When I awoke I found my mind back in the recent past.
        Eve had come into our lives as apparent as a nuclear explosion.  One day she was there and her presence formed a sick mushroom cloud over my life especially.  It didn't take me long to figure out that she hated me, though I didn't know why.
        Index was a semi-small town in Upstate New York and when someone new moved in people talked.  Working as a waitress at The Stop and Drop Diner, (locally known as Ern's), I heard plenty about Eve's arrival.  Her family bought the Salford place, which had been empty for quite some time.  I knew all about Salford Hall, as we  called it, because when it was empty we used the barn as a meeting place.  It was a dry building, somewhere to drink beer and dance, and, there was the infamous hay mow.  When a couple went up the ladder, you could guess what was intended.  After Eve's family moved in 'the barn' became off limits and a new hang out had to be found.  Many of the kids resented their place being taken away, but I didn't.  It had been years since high school and I divided my life between Ern's, Stapleton University and Rion.
        Rion and I grew up together chasing each other on the playground.  I was twelve years old on the day I knew I loved him.  I was lying on a soft grass hill in Blanchard's Park reading a Nancy Drew mystery.  Rion walked up the hill carrying a crying Sammy.  He placed her in my lap.
        "She's not hurt or anything," he explained.  "Jake and his friends were teasing her, you know, putting handfuls of grass in her hair."  He sat, ignoring his friends' calls to come play baseball.  After that day he became my best friend.
        People used to joke, calling us the old married couple and as the years passed marriage seemed the logical conclusion.  My mother was from Greece.  She had old-world notions at times and became concerned about the bond that Rion and I discovered at such a young age.  It was a bond we never constructed, it just seemed inherent to our personalities.  But, she later told us she felt a psychic link between Rion and me and we laughed at her.  All that we knew was we were joined somehow and it was inevitable and unchangeable and we didn't mind.  We had our share of arguments and squabbles but for thirteen years we remained secure about how we felt toward each other.  Until Eve Mann changed our lives.

        The first time I saw Eve she came into the Stop and Drop with two other girls I recognized as high school kids.  It was a Sunday afternoon and I was almost finished with my shift. Rion and I planned to go canoeing that afternoon.  The girls chose a table in my area and sat, giggling.
        Approaching the table while shuffling napkins and menus, I sensed a burst of rage in front of me.  I looked up and found the three girls' faces focused on mine.  I attempted to put on my waitress smile, the one that creates the facade that I'm there only to serve you, even though I would rather be somewhere else.  The waitress smile failed when I looked into Eve Mann's face.  I had never met her, yet, here was a young girl with such open hostility toward me that you would have thought we were mortal enemies.  Her eyes were brown, with the softness of felt, but somehow I saw something else, a light behind the brown that burned like a laser.
        "Are you going to give us the menus or stare like a fool?"  Her mouth formed a dead, flat line.
        "I'm terribly sorry," I mumbled, handing them the menus and setting up the napkins and silverware.  Her hostility got on my nerves.  I didn't need a hassle twenty minutes before quitting time.  Besides, there was no need for her to have an attitude.  Formally, I told them, "I will be back to take your order," then rushed out of the dining area.
        Once in the safety of the kitchen I snarled "fuck you" toward the girls.
        "What the hell'd you do to that blond at table six?"  Asked Mollie the other waitress, who stood monotonously separating paper coffee filters.
        "Not a damn thing . . . I never saw the bitch before."  I got down on my knees and grabbed Mollie's ample legs.  "Please take her off my hands Mol!  Rion will be here soon and I don't want to be in a nasty mood, please please . . ."
        "Get up you idiot!"  Mollie smiled her mature old smile.  "You'll owe me child.  You will owe me."  She smoothed her short red hair and withdrew into the dining room once I disentangled myself from her legs.
        I felt a weight lifted off me and I walked back toward the bathroom brushing the dust off my jeans.  The heat of the kitchen didn't seem as oppressive as it had.  I was even whistling, that is, until Mollie came back.
        "She wants you to take her order."  Mollie looked serious.  "She's one of that new family out at the Salford place . . . be careful Deia."
        "Since when do customers choose who takes their order?  Mol, you've been at this long enough.  Tell her I left."
        "Ernie told me to come get you."  Her face was grave.
        Ernie was the owner of the Stop and Drop, and, up until this moment, a friend.  "Well," was all I could say.  I grabbed my pen and headed back into the dining area.  It was surprising to see Ernie seated at the table with the three girls.  Oh well, I thought again.  This is just like medicine – swallow it, gag on the aftertaste, then go on.  Rion would chase away the ugly aftertaste just fine.  I smiled at the thought.
        "Are you ready to order?"  Still smiling, I gazed upon four scowling faces, a little disheartened by Ernie's scowl.
        "Yes.  It's about time," snapped the blond.  I glanced at Ernie to assess his reaction, but he was smiling at her as if she had bid me good afternoon.  "Do you know who I am?"  She slowly asked me, half rising from her chair.
        "No."  I spoke directly to her, not knowing what was going on.  The whole diner was silent, besides the twang of a low volume Country song, as if some big altercation were occurring.
        "My name is Eve Mann and you'd better get used to coming when I say, Deianira."  She read my name from the name-tag on my collar pronouncing as if it meant filth.  She sat back in her chair.  "What a ridiculous name!"  She laughed with the other girls at the table.  It was a mean sound.
        Stunned by her behavior I felt defensive.  "My name is Greek. Deianira was the wife of Heracles."
        "Don't you mean Hercules?"  She sneered, "Maybe you should get your facts straight."
        The whole conversation seemed stupid but my anger flared involuntarily.  I looked around at all the people in the diner, most were regular customers but I felt no support.  "My facts are straight Ms. Mann.  Heracles is the Greek name, Hercules is Roman.  I will ask you again, are you ready to order."
        If rage was the feeling I sensed earlier, unbridled fury would describe her demeanor now.  "You'll pay for your insolence!"  She whispered and I almost burst out laughing; she sounded as if she were an actress from an old time movie.  She swiveled in her seat.  "Ernest, this should be rectified."
        He looked at Eve, then at me, back at Eve.  "Deia –"  He stuttered with his eyes fixed on Eve's.  "I'm going to have to let you go . . ."
        It took a moment for his intentions to sink in, 'let you go' seemed absurd.  "Ernie, why don't we talk in the kitchen."  I was shocked but wasn't about to discuss my employment in front of a restaurant full of people, most of whom I had served many meals over the past three years.
        Ernie's eyes broke from Eve's.  He looked sad but firm.  "There's nothing I can do."
        "What the hell do you mean there's nothing you can do?"  My voice sounded shrill.
        "Don't argue with me Deia; I'm not changing my mind."
        "Why are you doing this, on what grounds?"  That was when I became aware of a hand on my arm, the arm that still held the notebook for orders.  Rion was glaring at Ernie.
        Eve dropped her look of fury and donned an innocent smile.  "Hercules I presume?"  She purred, with her eyes half shut.
        Rion ignored her and removed the notebook from my hand, throwing it on the table before them.  "Let's go," was all he said as he led me out of the diner.  I stopped outside the door barely comprehending the oppressive July humidity and turned to observe Eve Mann, incredulous at the events of the last half hour.  Every face in the diner looked down except the face of Eve.  She nodded her head and smiled a brilliantly beautiful smile.  I turned away to find Rion tentatively smiling back at her.

        I lost Rion within two weeks of the Stop and Drop fiasco, if, lost is really the word for it.  For years we seemed to communicate without speaking sometimes and now we couldn't speak civilly to each other.  I felt helpless about what was happening to our relationship but couldn't stop it no matter what I tried.  Rion tried too.  He didn't understand what was happening either.  It was strange because we discussed the fact that our relationship was falling apart - at times like detached clinicians.  It didn't help us or stop the trend though.
        Ernie wouldn't talk to me about my job.  I repeatedly asked him why he fired me but he refused to answer.  He looked at me as if we had never spent many nights closing the diner together, discussing philosophy in the context of our lives.  Friends told me to call the labor board but I didn't want to.  All I really wanted to understand was why my life was unraveling.  Oh well, I never liked my job anyway, I tried to tell myself.  But I knew I missed it.
        I couldn't comprehend Eve Mann's hatred, nor why her hatred should matter.  Rion wouldn't discuss her.  If I said her name his face appeared expressionless or he would look away.  I never imagined the real reason for this.  Two weeks from the day Eve came into the diner I saw them together.
        It was mid July.  Until I could find another job I had too much time to think and obsess about everything that was happening to me.  Rion and I lived in a small apartment over Cushman's Bakery, so the heat of the ovens made the apartment terribly hot on warm summer days.  I decided to ride my bike to the river in order to read in the shade.  It was early afternoon and I was hot and bored.
        The ten minute ride was pleasant enough.  I left my bike at the edge of the well-worn trail that led to the river.  Instead of taking the trail I walked back through the woods, figuring I wouldn't get much reading done if there was a crowd of screaming swimmers near the water hole.  If you followed the progression of pine trees there was a clearing.  A perfect secluded spot to read, I thought.
        It was disappointing when I heard voices as I neared the clearing; I almost turned and left.  One of the voices was familiar, though, so I quietly walked on.  I felt like a spy or some criminal until I saw what was taking place on the sun splashed grass.
        Rion was lying on his back, legs stretched apart, his arm casually pulled behind his head breaking the near-perfect rhythm of his light brown hair.  My mouth hung open.  Every one of my muscles were in shock.  He was naked.  There, each finely tuned muscle that I knew well, the curves and crevices that I had watched grow over the years, unclad, exposed to the air.  The sun reflected off the bright white splotch of skin that was his groin, long hidden from the sun, until now.  My mouth reacted, snapping shut, the muscles grinding my teeth together.  I felt possessive.  After our years together I knew his body as well as my own.  To see him like this was one thing, to see Eve Mann astride his legs touching what I considered mine was incomprehensible.  Not Rion . . . no way . . . and yet I had to believe my eyes.
        The air was still, lacking any breeze whatsoever.  It was stifling, making breathing a difficulty.  I stepped forward and cleared my throat.  Their heads slowly rotated toward the sound, the rest of their bodies remained motionless.  My eyes sought Rion's, searching for meaning, for guilt – for validation.  His gaze was steady and strong, though not hard or cold.  The blue was translucent in the sunlight.  I couldn't believe this scene.  How can he look at me, as if disinterested, as if I were a stranger who interrupted?
        Eve stood and waved, unconscious of her nakedness.  She walked toward me grinning happily.  "You look pale."  She told me as she walked past toward a picnic basket.  "Maybe you better go home."
        How could a body be put together so perfectly?  She looked like a model.  My eyes snapped back to Rion who had rolled onto his stomach.  He didn't say anything.  He seemed to be studying me.  I couldn't speak, nor cry, nor move.  Eve walked back to Rion and draped herself across his back, her blond hair flowing down her arm spilling onto him.
        "Damn you both," I murmured, momentarily frozen.  Eventually I backed away from the clearing and returned to our apartment.  No tears fell until I saw our home.

        My eyes felt firmly scrunched shut, as if wary of opening.  In a way it felt like Dejavu, only I knew where I was – this time.  The musty sheet covering me was thin and I shivered, snuggling closer to Prozac.  She sighed contentedly.  It was easy to think back of the fear and excitement of regaining consciousness that day Adam had chased me through that old house . . . what a different person I was then . . .

        I felt my eyes open with a jerk.  Peering at my surroundings through enervated sight, I soon became thankful for the ability to move.  I was alone in what appeared to be a small dim room with off-white walls.  It reminded me of an examination room at a doctor's office, without the customary blood pressure cuff hanging on the wall.  It took an effort to stand, but I stood, inspecting the furniture I had been lying on.  It was some sort of cot, reminiscent of standard military issue.  The room even smelled like that sterile hospital smell.
        "Where's the door?"  I spoke aloud talking to myself.  The sound of my voice made me cringe and glance around.  There was no door, at least that I could discern.  I knew someone had to have put me into the room somehow.
        "Deep breath Deianira . . ."  I hadn't thought myself claustrophobic before, but now . . .
        "Can you hear me?"  Shouted a young female voice to my left, startling me into an attack stance.
        "Yes!"  I faced the wall I was addressing.  "Is my sister here?  Her name is Sammy, she's –"
        "No.  They took her away."  The disembodied voice sounded sincere.  "You were both brought in together.  Then they took her away."
        Leaning against the wall, I felt myself weakly sliding down to my knees, then sitting on the floor.  "Who are they?"  I was afraid of the answer.
        "The militia that transport the slaves, that's who."  She sighed.  "I talked to her before they took her away.  It's been nice to hear a human voice.  I've been here a long time."
        "Where are we?"
        "This is a temporary detention center.  They had to bring me back."
        "But where is this?"
        "You wouldn't believe me if I told you girlie.  Won't say exactly, but, we aren't on Earth."  She giggled.  "Do you believe me?"  She sighed again.  "Your sister didn't."
        "I don't know what to believe."  This had to be a joke, an ornate and complex joke and I am not laughing, not at all.  There was nothing in the room to give me an idea of where I was, just the cot and that revolting aseptic smell.  "It's not impossible though.  Who are you . . . well, what's your name?"
        "Gina.  I'm a girl who couldn't keep her mouth shut."  It sounded like she was kicking the wall.  "Your sister will have trouble too.  She's like me."
        You are probably right I thought.  "Gina, who are the slaves?"
        "You're talking to one . . . Humans, girlie."  The kicking stopped.  "You and your sister are special though.  I heard the militia.  You'll be transported to Reflection, wherever that is.  I bet it's nicer than here."
        I sat, trying to figure out what Adam meant, that I had something Eve wanted.  "Where did they take Sammy?"
        "They transported her to someplace called Red Key.  I don't know anything about it."  The kicking had started again.  "They took me to Whispering Pines, what a joke.  It was a huge blah gray dorm with a stupid human name."  The kicking became vicious.  "They brought me back because they don't know what to do with me.  You see, girlie, I refuse to cooperate.  I would rather die, only they won't kill me –"
        "Cooperate with what?"  I felt my stomach muscles tighten.
        "Let's just say slave protocol.  You'll see girlie girl."  Her voice grew determined and unquestionably mean.  "I'll be out of here real soon . . . they can't keep old Gina here."
        She became very quiet.  After a moment I softly called, "Gina?"  There was no reply.  I looked down at my hands and wondered what was going to happen to me, my sister – the world.  My silver rings seemed out of place in this plain white room.
        The day not only seemed inconceivable but downright insane.  I tried calling Gina's name again.  She didn't answer.  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply to remain calm.  A few minutes later I felt a rush of air hit my face.  I didn't want to open my eyes.  When I did it wasn't an alien brigade of militia that I saw, but Adam's warmly smiling face.

        "Hello!"  Adam acted like a gracious host at a black tie affair.  "You appear to be awake and well rested.  How are you feeling?"
        "As if you care asshole."  My voice sounded tired and wary.  "Where's my sister?"
        He leaned back where the door must have been.  It had receded  into smooth wall again.  "You should worry about yourself."  He said, pointing to me.  "You have much to worry about."  He casually strolled over and sat on the floor next to me.  "Do you agree?"
        Having him in such a proximity was like pouring Clorox into an eye.  I shuffled myself a few feet away.  He laughed.
        "Do you think it would not amuse me to follow you around the room Deianira?"  He was still laughing.  "But, I will respect your distance at this time."  His face changed.  "You do not want to make an enemy of me though."  His eyes burned the color of an island's coast, blue and green and turquoise.  "Keep in mind that I saved your life."
        "Thanks a heap."  Sarcasm crept out, it couldn't be helped.  I realized I was beginning to sound like Sammy.  "What the fuck do you want from me?"
        He shook his head with a smile, uttering, "You will learn," before he pounced.
        If my back hadn't been against the wall he would have knocked me over.  Instead, my body fell sideways.  My arms had been hugging my knees but I needed to reach out to catch my fall.  Then I was pinned.  His hands shackled my hands and his thighs were the fetters that held my body.  The muscles in my arms resisted the seemingly immovable force, straining his grip.  He leaned heavily forward driving my arms to the floor.
        "You are stronger than you appear."  His voice held a touch of curiosity.  Now he wasn't exerting himself at all.
        "Get . . . off me!"  I gasped.
        "Maybe that is why I like to be around you.  It is not your long hair, or your face, no, it is your ability to make me laugh."  His smile was suspended four inches above my frown.  "I am the one who seems to be in the position to give directives.  My first order being that you thank me properly for saving your life."
        There was a pause.  His grasp was so tight that I couldn't even squiggle.  "Thanks."  This is only the beginning of hell I thought.
        "That is not proper."
        "Then what is . . ."  I hissed.
        "Kiss me."  He flirted.
        I didn't hesitate.  "No way.  Kill me first."
        "I could kiss or kill you and you could not stop me."
        I thought about it.  "Yeah, you could, but its not the same.  I refuse to kiss you no matter what you do to me."
        He rolled off me chuckling to himself.  "I see."
        I pulled myself into a ball, watchful of his next move.  He kidnaps me because his sister marries my ex boyfriend, who hates me for our previous attachment, and we end up wrestling on the floor with him persuading me to kiss him?  I thought about it as I watched him.
        "If Rion were here would you kiss him?"  Adam ran his fingers through the dark curls hanging behind his head.
        "No, I wouldn't kiss him.  I would probably punch him in the mouth for getting me into this mess."  Although I did wonder if he was all right.
        Adam laughed again.  "Why does Eve hate you so much?"  It seemed like a genuine question.
        "Maybe you could tell me.  She's your sister.  Why do you hate Rion so much?"  He blinked.  I sat up and faced him.  "Look, I guess I'm a prisoner.  I don't know what the hell is going on, but, why don't you leave Sammy out of this?  How is she involved?"
        "She is your sister.  Eve knows she can use her to bargain with."  He was solemn now.  "You have what she wants."  He stood, then walked to the wall.
        "Wait!"  I pleaded, standing as well.  "What are you talking about?"
        "You have a human womb.  She wants your children."  He touched the wall.  It began to fade until transparent.  Stepping through the door, he half turned and said, "I did save your life you know."
        The doorway vanished and I was left alone.

        Gina started talking twenty seconds after Adam left.  She heard him coming, that's why she was quiet.  "I've learned when to keep my mouth shut, sometimes at least."  She heard everything Adam and I said through the wall, which I found strange.  After all, if these were aliens and we weren't on Earth, couldn't they build a prison with soundproof cells?  Maybe they didn't care, I didn't know.
        She recounted her story.  She had gotten mouthy to the wrong person, (alien?), and ended up here.  According to Gina they weren't emptying the Earth of humans, only those they had problems with.  She said no one was even supposed to recognize that they were aliens.  She kept listening to every conversation she possibly could and from what she could tell there was some inner conflict occurring, though she didn't know what it entailed.  I didn't know how much Gina really knew.  It's hard to take information as gospel truth when its being fed to you through a supposedly alien cell wall.
        It wasn't long before the militia came for me.  Gina didn't say good bye. I figured she didn't want them to know we had been talking.  I guess she really was learning when to keep quiet.  Gina seemed more determined than anyone I had ever met.  She was convinced she would escape or die trying.  I wondered what she looked like.
        There were two male guards to transport me to where ever they were taking me.  Both seemed younger than my twenty six years of age, but, how could I judge the age of an alien?  For all I knew Adam and Eve Mann were both a thousand Earth years old.
        I wondered about their names.  How ironic for aliens to adopt the names of the Biblical first man and woman, not to mention the surname Mann.  It seemed a bit too obvious to me.  Frankly, I thought the names were stupid, and, she was the one calling my name ridiculous!
        It was a strange sensation to step through an opening that had been solid wall a few minutes before.  If I had expected a wild alien scene I would have been disappointed.  All there was to see was a generic hallway.  Laurel and Hardy, (or so I named them), were leading me forward, each clasping a wrist.  Feeling like a child who has each parent hold one of her hands, I was tempted to drop my weight to see if I could dangle.  I decided against it.  They weren't tall enough, number one.  They weren't all that jolly, number two.  Come to think of it, I never saw a parent overjoyed at such antics, with their shoulders nearly pulled from their sockets.  Laurel, the taller one, was all business.  His eyes stared straight ahead, with lips set in a firm military manner.  He even marched.  Hardy, the rounded one, would shyly sneak a glance at me, then look away fast.  If I had to give an opinion I would guess that Hardy's heart wasn't in this job.  At least not with the same zeal that Laurel had.  Hardy's grip was much more lax and his eyes strayed around as if he were bored.  His mannerisms in general made me feel that he'd rather be some place else.
        For some reason I wasn't afraid.  Maybe the move was pumping me full of Adrenaline.  I felt more freaked out when I first saw that creepy house on . . . Earth?  This whole "space" concept was going to take some getting used to.  I had plenty of time to think about it as they led me down passage after passage.  We passed a few other militia, some men and some women.  Wow, equality in space, just like Star Trek The Next Generation.  Well, excluding the first season, with those ridiculous mini-skirts the women were costumed in.
        Seriously though, why did Eve want my children if she hates me so much?  She wouldn't get a single drop of blood if I could help it.  I was pretty sure that I couldn't help it at this point as they half dragged me along.
        Adam . . . he wasn't acting altogether ruthless or cruel.  He seemed almost pleasant at times.  If he were that pleasant you wouldn't be here, Deia.  Don't fool yourself.
        We finally reached what I assumed to be the perimeter of the building.  The doors we approached appeared more heavy duty.  Once through them I lost my breath because I knew Gina was right.  Cliché or not, I couldn't help thinking, this isn't Kansas anymore, this isn't Oz either.

        I twirled toward Hardy, practically whipping Laurel around.  "We're on the fucking MOON!"  I cried, not able to stifle my excitement.
        "Yes.  We are."  Hardy answered, grinning an unprofessional and friendly grin.
        Laurel took charge pulling me back toward him.  "Do not speak to the prisoner, Recruit!"  He had a kick ass English accent.
        "Yessir," whined Hardy, as he tried to stand as straight as his colleague.
        They began dragging me forward toward some type of motorized vehicle, which actually looked like a glorified golf cart.  My arms were cuffed to a roll bar and Laurel seated me in the rear 'golf club' area.  They sat up front.  We drove away from the stone-grey building we exited.
        All my life I had seen the Moon go through its phases.  Now, to see the Earth as if half of it had disappeared, was awe inspiring.  I couldn't believe the fact that I was on the MOON, well, that any of this was on the Moon.  There were plenty of buildings, at least twenty that I could see.  They all had the same appearance, grubby gray, though some were huge and others the size of an outhouse.  A domeish structure encircled the compound.  It was through the dome that I could recognize good old Earth as vivid as any video seen from the Space Shuttle.  This is too much like bad Science Fiction.  What was that TV show, the one where they had a moonbase, Space 1999?  Who knows.  I was so busy inspecting the view that pain from the position my wrists were in trickled into my consciousness a few drops at a time.
        "You made these cuffs a little tight, buddy," I complained to Laurel.
        His head aimed perfectly forward.  "You are lucky we are not dragging you from behind the car.  But, we will arrive shortly."  His head shifted slightly so I could see the left side of his face.  "Can you survive until then?"  His tone was dry and mocking.
        Bastard.  "Sure . . . I'm tough."  I wished I could kick him in the face.
        "Very good."  He faced forward again.  "We need tough slaves.  I am sure you will enjoy your duties immensely."
        I bet I will.  A slave, what the hell was slavery going to be like?  Not fun, at least from what Gina said.  She never did define slave protocol or what she refused to do.  I didn't feel as relaxed as I did upon leaving the cell.
        It was less than a minute later the cart stopped in front of a comparatively small nondescript building.  My guards seemed to be double checking a clipboard.
        "See," Hardy pointed at my face.  "Its her picture.  Transport to Reflection, priority seven . . ."
 Laurel acknowledged this fact, muttering "shit" under his breath.  He jumped from the seat bringing his keys to the cuffs in a frantically quick motion.  "These shouldn't have been so tight ma'am."  His tone was absolutely apologetic.  "Actually, cuffs are out of order in this case . . ."
        I sat, rubbing my wrists while evaluating his shift in attitude.  Deep red pressure marks were embedded above each of my hands.  Whatever a priority seven was, I was glad it pertained to me.
 Hardy held out his left hand to escort me from the cart as if I were royalty.  "Please come inside."  He invited.  He seemed to be enjoying the mix up.
        Jumping from the cart, I ignored his hand and walked toward the building.  I figured it was pointless to run seeing as I was on the damn Moon and had no idea how the hell I got there.  At least they weren't pulling me around anymore.  There were two doors before us and Laurel opened the darker of the two by punching some access code into a number pad.  He then stepped aside allowing me to pass.  Before I could observe the interior of Reflection I was attacked by what seemed to be a shrieking whirlwind.  Putting my arms up to protect myself from what I thought were blows only freed my body for the assailant to clasp.  Once my ears adjusted to the echoing cries I recognized the aggressor to be Sammy.

        Sammy calmed immediately, though she didn't let me go.  I walked inside, entering a large foyer.  The room reminded me of the inside of an A-Frame house, where you stood at ground floor level but could stare all the way up to the roof.
        "Nice place you have here."  I joked with Sammy as she shuffled over to a chair.  There was a drink on an end table, and, wait a minute, a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos.
        "Yeah, nicer than where I was."  Didn't Gina say something to that effect?  Sammy's eyes narrowed.  "Adam brought me here."
        Looking over my shoulder, I noticed Laurel and Hardy were gone and the door was solidly closed.  I didn't move.  Instead, I stood two feet from the door within the entranceway of the foyer, not wanting to commit myself any further.
        Sammy was munching on chips while I looked around.  She seems to have adapted just fine, I thought as my eyes darted from object to object.  The chairs looked puffed up, like real comfortable bean bag chairs, except filled with down rather than beans.  Above me there were rooms seemingly suspended from cables, though with no clear path of entry.  The strangest sensation came over me.  For some reason I really wanted to brush my teeth.  The feeling became less insistent as I continued to silently adjust to the room.  Then Sammy became impatient with me.
        "All right, what's the deal?  I'm parked outside of The Addam's Family house, next thing I know five goons are chasing me through the snow."  She pointed to her stocking feet.  "My red suede boots are ruined, you know."  I had to smile.  "I got into the house trying to find you, but, I found Adam."  Her voice became shrill.  "What the fuck is some guy you went to college with kidnaping us for?"
        I took a step toward her, then stopped, feeling guilty.  "He's Eve's brother . . ."
        "Big fucking deal!"  She was pissed now.  "I wake up in a rubber room with no door and you're passed out.  Some chick tries to tell me through the wall that we're not on Earth and there are aliens and shit –"
        "Sam, didn't you see the view?"  She looked at me as if I spoke Chinese.  "We're on the Moon."
        "That's a crock of shit Deia . . ."  The fear in her voice told me that she knew but didn't want to believe it.  "You must have been drugged 'cause you're not making any sense.  How could we be on the Moon?"
        Good question.  It wouldn't have been beneficial for either of us to argue.  So, I sat and explained what Rion had told me, as well as what little information Adam had given me.  I left out those details about Eve's motivation and Sammy's role as a bargaining chip.  I just didn't want to get into it.  She got up and paced while I went through my narration, her near blond hair streaming out behind her.  When I finished speaking she stopped pacing, shook her head, then began pacing again.  I think she knew there was more that I wasn't telling her, but she didn't demand to hear the whole truth.  She shot me an I trust you look, then scrutinized the floor.  I couldn't help but feel guilty about her being here.
        Because of the guilt, I had to get away so I decided to explore.  A room about thirty feet from the front door proved to be the kitchen.  Sammy had already found it.  Her mess was evident.  A two litter bottle of Diet Coke sat opened on the counter with some of the soda spilled out.  I grabbed a dishcloth to wipe up the soda but found myself staring into the bottom of the sink.  The drain was shiny and obviously new.  Engraved in the metal I could read Waste King as a brand name.  No way.  I stared at it for a minute, thinking it was a mirage.  Eventually I traced the letters with my fingers.  The words weren't braille but I could feel the indentations and the ridiculous implications that they had.  I shook my head, walking away.  The refrigerator looked like one of those industrial sized models.  It took up most of one wall and had several doors.  I glanced inside the first door and became surprised at the amount and variety of food inside.  Earth food, brand names and all.  At least this will please Sammy, she loves to eat.  I took a swig of soda from the bottle not bothering with a glass.  Who does the shopping for the Moon?  This is ludicrous!  I wanted to scream.
        Leaving the kitchen and moving toward the rear of the foyer, I saw Sammy sitting again, munching away.  I heard a familiar sound and stopped in my tracks.  Images like a big screen TV dominated the west wall.  Deidra Hall was running through a wilderness being pursued by some man.  Unbelievably, Sammy was actually watching Days of Our Lives, here, on the frigging Moon.  Laughter burst forth like vomit and felt as caustic.  Sammy looked at me, concerned, but I waved her on.  If watching soaps would help her deal, then fine.  The laughter sounded hysterical to my ears and I realized I was laughing and crying at the same time.  I moved toward the doorway I had seen before the TV distracted me.  It was actually a lift, like an elevator.  I pushed the arrow pointing up.  The lift stopped at a suspended platform and I stepped out gazing longingly at a bed.   Collapsing in the middle, I was stunned at the softness, soft as a cloud.  The tears were still squeezing out even though my eyes were closed.  Adam . . . damn – I couldn't stop thinking about Adam . . . I liked him from the first time I met him and couldn't help wondering if that was a mistake.

        During my last semester at Stapleton University I was looking forward to taking an Evolutionary Psychology class.  Literature was my major, not psychology, but I had overheard some other students asking questions of their professor.  What I heard sounded fascinating so I decided to take the class if the opportunity arose, and it did.
        After the first few classes I realized this was going to be a challenge, especially after receiving my grade for the first quiz.  78% of the class got a zero, me included.  After that I took control, going over my notes periodically, so when it was time for the midterm I felt prepared.  This time I kicked ass, getting a grade in the 90's, an honor shared by only five other students out of over a hundred.  Adam was one of the five.
        Professor Gallup was plotting the percentages on the board after handing the midterm back, amid groans and grins.  When he handed my paper to me he murmured, "Nice job", which made me feel somewhat self-conscious and I sensed my face turning pink.  I was busy studying the few questions I had missed, so it took a minute for me to notice the guy in the next row examining me.  He returned my smile, then looked at my paper, smiling again.  He hadn't gotten his Midterm back yet.  My gaze returned to my paper, but I watched him from the corner of my eye.  He certainly was attractive, not that I was interested, I was living happily with Rion at the time.  Attractiveness is one of those things you can't help but notice, and appreciate.  His face was handsome, with the non-shaven look, which blended perfectly with his black curly hair.  His jeans seemed to fit him right, no bagginess but not skin tight either, just naturally proportioned to a nice body.
        The teaching assistant handed him his paper and I watched his vividly green eyes light up as he smiled.  He caught my eye and wielded a winning smile, which I returned.  By this time Professor Gallup was detailing the correct answers so I shifted my attention back to my test.  Once in a while I would glance over and find this guy looking in my direction, at times smiling, at times looking away.  I wondered what he was thinking.  The day's lecture began and I dismissed thoughts of him, concentrating on learning.
        After class concluded I began packing my things into my knapsack, not paying attention to the throng of people passing me.  A line of students with questions usually formed at the front of the room, though it was longer today and I figured it was because of the test.  I took a swig of Mountain Dew readying to leave when Adam introduced himself.
        "Hello, Deianira, right?  I'm Adam, Adam Mann."  I shook his hand, though he held mine for a few seconds longer than a meeting handshake required, studying it.  "How can you wear so many rings?  Do they get in your way?"
        There were at least two or three silver rings on each of my fingers.  "I'm used to them, I forget they're there most of the time."
        "I have never seen a ring like this . . ."  He pointed to my crystal ball ring.  A clear quartz orb was held by two thin silver brackets, it could even spin.  Many times when I've been nervous I've found myself twisting the ball.
        "Its my crystal ball ring.  Would you like me to tell your future?"  I couldn't believe I was flirting like this, so I began rummaging through my knapsack.
        "Eventually."  He tactfully changed the subject.  "So what did you think of today's topic, predictions on specific implications of genetic assurance?"
        This was the first time anyone in class had really spoken to me about the material, I was glad because I found Evolutionary Psyche extremely fascinating.  "It's an interesting way to assess relationships, don't you think?  Males technically can't be sure of paternity and such, well, excluding a DNA test –"
        "And the cost benefit ratio of parenthood being so different for men and women."  He seemed as into it as I was.  "Women know beyond a doubt that a child is genetically hers but the amount of parental investment is huge and her reproductive capability is very limited in contrast to the male."
        "It sounds like you understand already," I sighed, "I usually have to go over my notes a few times first."
        He sat in the chair in front of me.  "I just enjoy this topic.  How do you feel about his infidelity prediction?  Women have less to lose from a single instance of infidelity so –"
        "Therefore they should be more tolerant?  Not me, evolutionary implications aside, if I found out my boyfriend had cheated on me I wouldn't be very tolerant."  I swung the knapsack onto my shoulder.  "I'm glad I don't have to think in those terms though, not with my boyfriend."
        "Rion, right?"
        Surprised, I asked him, "Why?  Do you know him?"
        His face was guarded, he answered, "I know of him."  He stood when I stood.  "I just moved to your town.  I do not really know anyone but I have seen you at work, and seen you with a guy with brown hair.  He appeared to be your boyfriend, unless there is a bit of infidelity occurring . . ."
        "That's him," I laughed as we walked from the building.  "Sorry, no infidelity to report."
        "Too bad, I could have blackmailed you."
        We were outside standing on the steps.  I was ready to head toward the bus stop when he offered me a ride home.  Usually I wouldn't even be standing alone on the steps with a man I had just met but I felt extremely comfortable with him so I accepted the ride.  Plus, once I saw his car, a white Porsche 968 convertible, even though there were various dents and scrapes marring the perfection of the car, I figured yeah, this beats the bus any day.  We had a stimulating discussion on the way to my apartment, and he laughed at the way I was fighting to keep my long hair from forming inextricable knots.  I even told him I was glad to have met him.  When he dropped me off I remember he told me that sometimes infidelity happens when you least expect it.
        How very right he was.

        The days and nights Sammy and I spent at Reflection practically blended together.  After all, the concepts of night and day that we were used to had ceased to exist.  For some reason there were no windows in our 'vacation condo', so we couldn't tell what outside conditions were like, even though I figured they didn't change by much.
        No one came by.  Sammy and I had to amuse ourselves, both thankful for no interruption, yet bored with the tedium.  The television had an excellent reception, (is it a wonder?), we could watch channels from around the world.  Sammy was getting hooked on French soap operas, I think it's because of the nudity.  She still religiously watched Days of Our Lives though, she said it made her feel grounded, or at least, still a small part of the Earth.
        I couldn't understand this place, well, I couldn't understand why Sammy and I were living like VIPs on a luxury cruise.  This sure wasn't slavery.  There were quite a few suspended platforms in our dwelling, some had beds, but there were other specialized platforms.  There was a library with quite a few books, ranging from Ayn Rand to Sue Grafton to Stephen King to Kafka.  There were even various versions of the Bible if one chose to console his or herself with scripture.  I didn't bother.  The available titles were immense when reading a computer selection program, select a title and it would come up on the screen.  I really didn't feel like reading.  The music platform was where my enthusiasm lay, it had almost any cross cultural instrument found on Earth.  The music platform also had an integrated music system, something like the TV downstairs, there was a panel from which selections could be made, so many selections that it nearly gave me a headache to choose what song I wanted to hear.  There was also a platform set aside for weight training, it had a treadmill, stair-climber, universal gym, free weights and a smaller version of the downstairs TV equipped with endless aerobic selections.  The later two platforms are where I spent most of my time.  Sammy wasn't interested in music at all, she got aggravated if my feeble attempts at guitar playing interrupted a TV show, and, we had had quite a few volume wars.  I would crank one of my favorite bands, Nirvana, she would crank one of her soaps, Another World.
        I was terribly bored and wished just to be home.  It wasn't that I missed the rest of my family.  The only family that I had was Sammy, our father disappeared when I was ten, he met some slut and took off.  I assume he never looked back because we never heard from him again.  Ma died two years ago from Cancer.  She had wanted to be buried in Greece with her relatives, so Sammy and I took what money we had to make her desire come true.  So for the past two years it was Sammy, Rion and I – then all I had was Sammy.  After I caught Rion and Eve in the clearing I moved into Sammy's apartment.  It had been her idea to jet to Florida, give us both a fresh start in life.  I guess our fresh start didn't start in Florida though.  What I wouldn't give to be at the Stop and Drop, grease in my hair, feet crying for me to sit, smiling at bitchy customers!  I tried not to think of Eve or what Adam had told me.  As long as Sammy and I were left alone I could deal with the boredom.
        It was a Wednesday and I went to sleep early.  Sammy wasn't thrilled with the television so she decided to get drunk.  There were as many kinds of alcohol as cupboards full of foodstuffs.  I tried to get her mind on other activities but she continued to drink Absolut mixed with diet Coke until she passed out.  I ended up putting her to bed, the pungent odor of vodka wrinkling my nose.  I took a couple of large mouthfuls of Cuervo myself, again not bothering with a glass.  I didn't think even tequila could quench my boredom, it would probably intensify the feeling so I turned in.
        I dreamt that Rion was kissing me.  I could hear his voice echoing, seeming to call my name, softly at first, then more insistently.  Suddenly I wasn't asleep and I wasn't alone.  I sprang from the bed, as best as I could, seeing that the soft mattress held me like a vat of mud.
        "Who the hell . . ."  Yelling, I spied a hunched shape on the edge of the bed and I prepared to fight.  My eyes studied the slumped figure through the dusky light.  Yes, I knew that form, I thought.  "Rion?"  I hesitantly whispered, "Is that you?"
        He looked up, although his eyes wouldn't meet mine.  "Yeah Deia . . ."  It looked like tears were forming in his eyes, they had a wet, glossy look.
        "What are you doing here?"  I questioned, still cautious.
        "I had to see you.  Adam brought me on the condition that I didn't touch you, and, that I didn't tell Eve . . . I guess I broke one condition . . ."  He stood as if to step toward me if I gave a welcoming sign.  I didn't.
        Even though I was glad to see him I couldn't help but wonder about his role in my incarceration.  "Did you know about any of this?  What did you do, contact Sammy to lure us to that weird house so Adam could grab us?"
        "No way!  Deia, I, I love you – and Sammy too!"
        "Right, ever hear, 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'?"
        "Leave Shakespeare out of this, Deia, I'm serious.  I would've never gone to that house if I'd known –"
        "Then why did you want to meet there?"  I still didn't know if I could trust him.  If marrying Eve and being an accessory to kidnaping was love, I wanted no part of it.
        "It was a secluded spot . . . I don't know.  There's something about that house that makes me feel safe . . ."
        I thought about the hum I felt when I was there.  I tried to focus on Rion's face through the gray light.  He looked sincere and I used to be able to tell when he was lying.  As far as I knew he wasn't.  "Who's place is it?"
        He cringed.  "I don't know, Adam brought me there a couple months ago . . . but that doesn't mean I set you up!  Look, you can ask Adam.  I told Eve I was going to Westgate Mall . . ."  His manner grew vicious, "The bastard must have followed me."
        I believed him.  "Adam told me Eve wants my children, what the fuck was he talking about?  I thought she hated me –"
        "Yeah, well, part of that's Adam's fault."  Rion's tone was angry.  "He's the one that came up with the idea . . . though, it did stop Eve from wanting you dead, for now.  Sure, she hates you, but . . . she has some kind of irrational love for me."  He expressed this statement with wonder, as if describing a new ability to breathe underwater.  "She knows how I feel about you and figures she can control that feeling if she were the mother of our children.  Damn, she's so insecure, like, like a sponge, she sucks every bit of positive energy I have until I feel like a corpse."  He seemed to crumple before my eyes.  "I'm so sorry this happened to you!  I told you I would protect you, and Sammy too, but I couldn't do shit –"
        "Fine, your guilty for getting me involved and I'm guilty for getting Sammy involved – so where does that leave us?  Let's figure a way out Rion!  Self-pity never got anyone anywhere and it won't help us."  Tears streamed down his face, pissing me off.  "I never knew you were such a fucking wimp!          Crying like a damn baby, what the hell is the matter with you?"
        "You don't understand!"  He sobbed.  "There's nothing I can do.  I don't think anyone can help us."
        "Wait just a minute."  I took a step toward him.  "What's this us shit?  Sammy and I are the fucking prisoners –"
        "Do you think this is easy on me?  I'm as trapped as you are!"  He bellowed, rising to his feet.  "I have to pretend to love something cold, and, and, clammy - I have to fuck her so she thinks everything's peachy between us – and believe me honey – it's the last thing I want to do."
        "Well, it sure didn't bother you in the past now did it?"  I couldn't stop myself from hurting him.
        A flash of guilt spread across his face.  "Okay, Okay . . . yes, great.  Let's just say I learned my lesson – too late.  How many times do I have to apologize?"  We stared into each other's eyes for a full minute at least, the blue so familiar it made me want to cry.
        "A thousand and one."  I answered him.
        A slow grin began to form then broke into a wide smile.  "You got it babe . . ."  He dropped to his knees before me.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . ."  With each sorry he came a little closer.
        "You know you're nothing but a shit Rion."  He reached my legs and entwined his arms around my knees.
        "Yes, I'm nothing but a shit . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ."
        I reached down stroking the softness of his hair, then his hands held mine.  He stopped apologizing long enough to pull me to my knees, my eyes inevitably locked with his.  We remained this way for another minute then the gap closed between us, our lips touching lightly.
        "I don't want to die Rion."
        His lips moved with mine.  "And I don't want you to die Deia."
        The lightness of our touch was excruciating, our lips the only part of our bodies touching.  We knelt before each other, not moving, yet straining, wanting everything that we could not have and knowing to experience more would make the pain that much worse.
        "I have to go."  Rion broke away and moved to the lift.  "Adam is in love with you, you know.  The only reason he brought me here was for your benefit."
        This was news to me.  "I don't know what to say . . ."  Rion was obviously fiercely jealous and for that moment I was glad.
        "Neither do I . . ."  He rasped.  The door closed behind him and the lift went down.

        Adam came by the next morning.  I was on the music platform listening to L7, a speed metal, punk type band, letting the noise drown out any chance of thinking.  L7 was made up of four women, though not your run of the mill girl group.  These chicks were tough, someone to identify with.  The speed of the music was liberating.  Sammy had a massive hangover, so she was still in bed trying to stop her head from pounding.  Yeah, there was even Tylenol here, good thing for Sammy.  She hadn't complained about the volume of the music, which was extremely loud.  So loud that I never heard Adam come up the lift.  I practically jumped from the platform when I felt something touch my shoulder.  Adam reduced the volume.
        "Do you always listen to music at that decibel?"  He joked.
        I wasn't in a joking mood, in fact, my mood was extremely bitchy.  "I was never abducted before and given access to such a system, otherwise, I might have, Mr. Mann."  The n's were sarcastically drawn out.  He stared at me.  "Yes, Adam and Eve Mann, now there's a symbolistic joke.  Was that your bright idea or Eve's?"
        He ignored my question, asking instead, "Are we in a bad mood?"  He sat in the chair next to me crossing his legs.  "I would have thought you might be upbeat, having a visitor last evening."
        "Don't aliens know that humans find it aggravating to be referred to in the third person?  We are sick of being here and would like to go home.  Is that Okay with you?"  I reached over with my sneaker clad right foot kicking his foot off his lap.  "And you can stick your visitor up your ass."
        He crossed his legs again, this time moving them slightly further away.  Taking a deep breath, he paused, then let it out slowly, silently.  He looked from his interlocked fingers to my face.  "Did you know there are only two entities that I have patients with?  You and my sister are very much alike, perhaps that is why there is such animosity between the two of you."  He flexed his fingers as if he were cracking his knuckles.  "But I am not made of stone, so don't push me . . ."  His smile was overwhelmingly cheery.
        I didn't say anything for a few minutes so he continued.
        "The reason you are here at Reflection is that I arranged it.  If it were up to Eve you would be quartered in a dungeon somewhere."  He rose to his feet and held his hand out toward me.  "Come, we are going for a walk."  I didn't move.  "I am truly sorry that you are here.  Eve is strong willed, like someone else in this room."  He smiled knowingly.  "But wills can be bent if not broken, if you know what I mean."
        Before I could even think about it I rose and placed my hand in his.  His fingers gently squeezed mine, then lightly held as he led me to the lift.  These lifts were large enough for probably five people to fit comfortably, depending on their size, though we stood side by side, not too close, our hands still linked though.  A few seconds later we were at ground level and moving toward the front door.
        When he had said go for a walk it had never occurred to me that he meant outside of this building.  It had been several days since being brought here and the prospect of seeing an open area was almost sensual.  I took a Philosophy course once where we discussed imprisonment and I remember the girl who sat next to me making a comment about jail not being all that terrible.  She emphasized that prisoners have a roof over their head, get three square meals a day, have books and TV, etcetera, so what if they can't leave?  She felt that it wasn't really punishment and I had pretty much agreed.  Now, as I stepped through the door I felt wildly alive.  Reflection had a beautiful interior, very ascetically pleasing, wonderful food and drink, many many comforts – and yet it was still a prison and confining; no longer did I agree with that girl.  I wanted to dance about in the dirt, to run and skip and scream.  I even had to resist the urge to throw my arms around Adam and thank him profusely.
        Adam watched all these emotions flash across my face and I could see his mood heighten to match mine.  "Come . . ." he guided me forward, "let me show you around."  He told me the names of various buildings, though not their underlying purposes.  The names seemed inexplicable in relation to the buildings he pointed out.  Reflection resembled Woodscape and Silvania, Coleus resembled Red Key and so forth, but they were all basically the same gray warehouse looking buildings.
        Curious, I inquired, "Just who was it that came up with these particular names?"
        Laughing, he told me, "I can take neither credit nor blame.   A young colleague of mine did the christening."
        "No offense, but I think they're stupid."  He agreed.
        I thought of Gina and wondered where she was, and briefly thought about the implications of slavery and the other things she had told me, but I pushed those thoughts away because I just wanted to have a good time without having a razor sharp blade of worry hanging above my head.  I saw the first building Sammy was taken to, Red Key.  It was at least five or maybe ten times larger than Reflection, though he explained it was like a dormitory and several people lived inside.  I wanted to check it out, maybe put some of my fears to rest, but he led me forward.
        Instead, I asked him, "Why did you bring Sammy to Reflection?"
        "Because it would make you happy," he answered.
        Vehicles passed us, most were like the golf cart I was transported in, but some were larger, like supply trucks.  The hustle and bustle of the troops made me speculate that something were going on; it seemed as if they were readying for an assault of some kind although no one appeared tense.  I looked at their occupants, wondering if I would see other humans, but all I saw were militia uniforms.  Maybe Laurel or Hardy might drive by.  Hardy would probably sneak a glance in my direction, I thought, as I observed the way the militia kept their view sternly directed forward.  After a group of four carts passed us I happened to look over my shoulder and was surprised to see every occupant staring back at Adam and I, even the drivers.  Heads snapped back around when they saw me looking or nodded with acquiescence to Adam.
        We moved from the roadway, traveling along a path carved through the coarse dust.  My sneakers were caked with it.  Adam educated me about the dust, astronomers refer to it as regolith, he said, to distinguish it from Earth soil which contains decayed material.  We lapsed into a fairly comfortable silence.  I was still elated with this new found freedom, not even minding that Adam still held my hand.  Our destination seemed to be a good sized hill with a pavilion like structure on top.  My concentration had been focused on the tour Adam gave me, but as we approached the structure I realized its purpose.  It was an Earth observatory.  Telescopes rose from the floor, in varying sizes, from elevated podiums that were surrounded by several chairs.  Glass walls encased the interior snugly.  There was no sign of anyone there.
        Adam was watching my reaction and he quickened his stride with mine.  "You will see what no one you know on Earth has seen – one of the most beautiful sights that can be viewed."
        We ran the last few steps and entered through a huge swinging door.  We climbed upon the closest platform and stood hand in hand staring at the frosty colored orb, not bothering with the telescope.
        "I would like to talk with you," he quietly asserted, "to explain what I can, I owe that much to you."

        I broke the crystalline silence that had formed.  "I thought the stars would be closer."
        He chuckled and replied, "I know what you mean."
        I gently regained possession of my hand.  It was warm and I could feel the imprint of his hand as if it still held mine.  I peered into the telescope lens not expecting as intense a view as I saw.  "Rion told me you were in love with me last night."  I figured I might as well plow straight into the pile of issues swimming through my head.
        "Yes, well . . ."  This was the first time I had ever heard him hesitate.  "It would seem that is the case.  Maybe it is what you embody . . . but I do not think so, I think it is you."
        I studied what I assumed to be the Western Hemisphere for a moment.  "What do you mean by embody?"
        I heard him move away and sit in a chair near the platform.  "Your humanity or humanness for lack of a better word . . . my sister wants to assimilate more than anything else - she craves human normality . . . I suppose I feel the same way to an extent.  Believe it or not our society was not altogether different from contemporary America –"
        "What happened to make you leave your society?"
        "The reasons are extremely complex, I do not think I could  clarify the holistic picture.  I can unequivocally state that our society was in decline both physically and mentally so we left.  We have been here for almost three Earth years and suffice it to say, our world is no more."
        It seemed as if he were going to elaborate so I remained silent.  My intuition was correct.
        "There was a pseudo-government in place that could not handle the fact that our world was on the verge of an environmental holocaust.  Those of us that came here were analogous to the pilgrims.  We knew only the barest information about Earth but it was the only sustainable planet we had the technology to reach, our world was many parsecs away.  We were overjoyed when we finally arrived, this amount of space is staggering to us, we are used to much less room."  I looked at him in a whole new light, literally.  He continued.  "After assessing the many cultures, different individuals chose where they were going to live.  Certain scouts went ahead, learning and preparing the way for the rest of us.  The scouts assumed different personas, some acted retarded or mentally ill until enough was known about the societies to assimilate without raising speculation.  At first I thought of settling in Belgium, you know how women react when they hear Jean Claude VanDamm's accent, but, I changed my mind.  Being an American was more fulfilling."  He chuckled at my grin, I knew what he meant by VanDamm's effect on women.  "Money was earned and distributed, then we fanned out across the world to live our lives . . ."  He began speaking rapidly.  "I am sure your experience has led you to believe there was a mass invasion, that we are going to take over and exterminate humans, but it is not that way . . . we genuinely want just to belong.  It was a setback to find that interbreeding did not produce viable offspring at this point.  We do have a geneticist working on this dilemma who says he can eventually slightly alter conditions of conception and then healthy children will be born.  It will only be a matter of time . . ."
        I looked him directly in the eye.  "You can't blame me for feeling nervous about all this Adam."  I had a frightening thought, "Change conception in what way?"
        "I have seen almost every Science Fiction movie ever made," he grinned, "this is not The Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  Our anatomy is basically the same as yours, except a problem arises when our gametes come in contact with your gametes – they circle each other without connecting.  The geneticist discovered a common enzyme that changes this chase between sperm and eggs and lets them do what they should, form embryos.  Our genetics are compatible, in case you are wondering, the babies born will appear normal, or so I am told."
        "This sounds pretty convenient."  After taking Astronomy classes I realized just what the odds were that all this could take place, what, a trillion to one or something?  "Your home was dying so this was the only sustainable planet you could reach, and, you just happen to appear more human than most people I know.  How coincidental . . ."
        "It's a small universe?"  His voice sounded slightly annoyed.  "What are you trying to say?"
        "I don't know!  Look around Adam!"  I held my arms above my head twisting in a circular motion.  "Statistically – can it be possible?  On TV yes, Klingons and Betazoids and Humans interbreed, but, those are fiction, this is real - isn't it?  I feel overwhelmed."  I dropped to the edge of the podium facing Adam, needing to believe he was who he said he was, otherwise knowing that I was insane.
        "This is as real as it gets."  He leaned forward in his seat.  "I cannot explain if that is what you wish.  I am not omniscient, my people are not either.  Do not stereotype us.  Think of it this way Deianira, out of all the humans alive there may be, maybe, let us say a million nuclear physicists, right?  They have this knowledge because that is what they learned or knew or both.  Do you know what a nuclear physicist does?"  My head shook negatively.  "Neither do I and I am not even human."  He stood and copied the movement I made a moment before with his arms above his head.  "Look at these structures – this dome – there is not even a molecule of breathable air outside of it!  I have no idea how they work; I only know they exist."  He sat again.  "Yes, we appear human, why, I could not begin to tell you.  We just do.  We are not identical, though we do not need to discuss anatomical differences at this point.  We are here to live amongst humans, to give what we have to your world, the world of our future children."
        I wondered if he meat 'our' literally or metaphorically as I moved back to the telescope and watched the Earth float in front of me.  "If interbreeding will be possible, why does Eve want to exploit me?  Rion said it was to control him but it would seem as if she would feel more control if the children were biologically hers."
        He joined me on the podium adjusting the strap of my tank top that had slipped down my arm.  He gave me goosebumps.  "My sister can be irrational sometimes –"  He seemed to be searching for an answer.  "Especially when Rion is involved."  He turned me away from the telescope putting his hands on my shoulders.  For some reason the warmth was extremely comforting.  "You asked me once why I hated Rion so much . . ."  His voice was very soft.  "I hate him for what he did to you.  He never should have fallen for Eve's seduction.  Do not misunderstand – I support Eve in whatever she does – Rion should never have succumbed to her.  She is not magic and did not use an alien potion to lure him away.  I hated to see you then . . . your eyes swollen from crying – I wanted to help you – but –"
        "What Eve wants you give?"  I said, finishing the sentence for him.
        "Right.  I am sorry Deianira."
        "Yeah me too."  He suddenly leaned forward and kissed me taking me by surprise.  I pulled back and his hands fell from my shoulders.  "You shouldn't –"  I sputtered.
        He looked toward Earth.  "Just tell me one thing."
        "What?"
        "Why did you pull away?  Was it because of Rion or because of me?"
        "Both."  I replied.

        After the kiss Adam and I became reflective and slightly uncomfortable around each other.  I didn't know what he wanted from me, he was a contradiction.  I couldn't accept the good about him without accepting the bad, after all, he held Sammy and I against our will.  Plus, he was an alien, come on, how was I supposed to feel?  Was I supposed to fall into his arms and kiss him as if he were just another guy?  It was more complex than that – way more complex.
        The Earth remained the focal point of the sky, as hard as it was to be away from everything I knew, it was harder to look upon the world from this distance.  Watching the cloud patterns between us and terra firma only added to the surrealism that inescapably filtered my judgment.  Was it raining on Earth?  If so, in which hemisphere, which country, which region?  It was extremely dry here.  The filtered air held hardly any humidity, which was plenty compared to what was outside the dome.  The moon may seem romantically beautiful on Earth but it was a waste land, more dry and desolate than a desert and completely dead.  Sammy's denial was understandable.
        As much as I didn't want to go back to Reflection, I also knew it was only a matter of time.  Adam calmly took my hand again and brought me back down the path.  He seemed to understand my reluctance even though I didn't say anything.  He deliberately walked slowly, stopping now and again to lengthen the walk back.  He would occasionally sweep his glance in my direction and smile if our eyes met but we didn't converse.  Once back at Reflection he punched in the access code, escorted me inside and after lightly kissing my hand he was gone.
        Dejavu settled over me, I was standing in the same place I stood the first day of my arrival.  Again, I felt a sense of hopelessness and fear of an unknown future.  Yet – it was different this time; I knew more about what, and who I was up against.  I knew I needed a plan.  Where's McGuyver when you need him?  I thought as I walked toward the lift.  Well, maybe I didn't have McGuyver but I had the next best thing.  Sammy was a whiz at combating problems and I was glad she was on my side.  Sammy's voice wailed out my name just as I was going up to take a shower so I made a detour into the room she claimed as hers.
        "I'm pissed."  Her voice was raw.  "I missed Sally Jessie Raphael.  Male strippers of the west coast were going to be on, great bods with real tans not bulb tans, damn it!"
        "How can you watch that shit?  All the guests do is argue and bicker, nothing ever gets solved."
        "People need to vent and for some reason I guess I think it's fun to see people's lives torn up.  I'd like to appear right about now and do some bitching myself.  Did I hear Adam's voice a while ago?"  She half moaned holding a wet washcloth over her eyes.
        "Yeah, you heard right."  I sat on the edge of the bed and she groaned softly.  "Why didn't you listen to me?  I told you not to drink so much, now look at you."
        "I don't wanna to hear it, I'm suffering enough without listening to you blab about last night . . ."  She moved the blue washcloth off her left eye and looked at me through the squinted opening.  "You look worse than I feel.  What happened with Adam?"
        First I told her about Rion's late night visit through which she had obviously slept, then I began to tell her about mine and Adam's conversation and she settled back on the bed covering her eye with the cloth again.  When I stopped talking she didn't move so I thought she had fallen back to sleep.  I was halfway across the room when she spoke.
        "Are you serious?"  Was all she said.
        I repeated Adam's statement, "'This is as real as it gets', he told me.  Sammy it's beautiful . . . and yet it's terrible.  I wish none of this ever happened."
        She jumped from the bed, a bit unsteady on her feet.  "Do you remember what you told me after Rion and Eve got married?  I wanted to comfort you because you were devastated.  I told you I wish I could change things, put them back the way they were.  You told me wishes were for fools because they don't come true, do you remember?"
        "Yes, I remember."  That was one of the hardest days of my life.  I didn't know Eve was an alien then, though, according to Adam it didn't matter.  I wondered if Adam was being truthful or trying to poison me against Rion.  It really didn't matter at this point, the end result was the same no matter how I felt toward Rion, or Adam.  Sammy and I were stuck on the Moon.  "You're right Sam.  It makes no sense to wish this never happened because it has and is happening.  I was thinking downstairs that we need a plan."
        She collapsed on the bed.  "Sure we do, only I'm in no condition to think.  Maybe later, Okay?"
 I felt like picking on her.  "Sure you don't want a shot? There's still some Absolut left in the bottle, you didn't drain it dry . . ."
        She expertly threw a pillow hitting me in the face before I could duck.  "Go away," she chuckled painfully, "I've had enough of you."
        I was halfway to the shower when I suddenly had a thought.  What about the Space Shuttle?  The astronauts must be able to see this compound from the Shuttle . . . wait a minute, a telescope from Earth could discern this place from the regular Moon surface.  Someone must have seen these structures and wondered, though I didn't know what good that would do Sammy and I.  Still, it gave me a small boost of hope.  The more I thought about the situation the more I knew Adam was the key.  Obviously Adam had power, he said he had Sammy and I placed where he wanted us, and I could tell by the demeanor of the militia when Adam and I went for our walk that he was in a position of authority.
        That is good, I thought as I stepped out of the shower, he says he's in love with me and he has the power to make things happen.  I could probably use his feelings, but, for some reason I felt bad.  I liked Adam, I always had.  We took a few classes together, hung out, even danced once – oh . . . at Rion and Eve's wedding.  I sat down on the toilet looking at the creamy colored carpet, stunned.  I had forced those memories from my mind.

        The wedding was literally the talk of the town.  The preparations were unparalleled; it seemed as if royalty were about to take their vows.  This was the first time I felt glad that my mother had died; she wanted Rion and I to marry in the church he and Eve were marrying in.  I never have the chance to tell her I wanted my wedding outside, as far away from the house of the Lord as I could get.  The church seemed to be an added bonus for Eve and florists busily worked alongside decorators, each creating the most ornate and lovely compositions.  The altar looked like a flower garden, with a variety of arrangements, potted plants – even individual flowers were strewn here and there to add to the effect.  Vines seemed to grow everywhere as if the outdoors suddenly invaded the inner sanctum of the church – and there was silk - silk that matched the vines.  Seven bridesmaids, each with a slightly varying degree of vine-colored silk almost danced down the center aisle, accompanied by seven escorts brilliantly clothed in expensive black tuxedos.
        Standing in the shadows of the unused balcony, I watched the wedding take place.  Why did I punish myself?  I had to see, to let reality wash over me like a cold spray.  Staying away wasn't going to change the fact that it was happening.  Being there concretely made it real.
        The late May breeze blew in through the open windows ruffling the folds of Rion's tux.  I felt the breeze on my face and for a split second Rion looked directly in my vicinity, almost acknowledging the fact that we shared the breeze – and nothing else.  He gazed around the church nervously; he hadn't seen me; I would have known if he had.  Rion seemed so tall, so sizable, it made me feel as if I hadn't seen him for years when in actuality it had only been two months since he came to tell me that he and Eve were marrying.  He had stood on the steps of Sammy's apartment when I refused to open the door, but I watched him from the window when he climbed into his truck.  There were no tears, well, no apparent ones.  It had been seven months since we were apart, now nine.  There were no apparent tears today either.
        The traditional wedding march began, da dumm da dummm, all eyes turned to the back, some people gasped.  Eve was a vision in white, looking absolutely ethereal with the late morning sun shining through the open church door behind her, creating a shiny halo effect.  Small flowers were woven into her blond hair and a long delicately sheer veil lightly floated about the back of her head then trailed down her back.  It was her dress that was the most fascinating, a fine white that was so white it almost seemed reflective.  The dress was cut like something from Gone With The Wind, showing her angular shoulders and accentuating her thin waist.  The train was unbelievable, four immaculately dressed little children followed after her holding the fabric so it wouldn't drag along the floor.  I had to admit she looked beautiful, in a bitchy sort of way.
        Adam held her arm as they made their way to the altar.  He was as attractive as ever, more so with a light tan.  He steadied Eve's arm as she tripped over her dress and I couldn't keep my laugh inside.  The sound was small, but I was afraid Adam spotted me.  I tried to make myself melt behind the column I was hiding in back of in case anyone else heard, but no one looked up, instead, all eyes watched Eve and Rion pledge undying love for each other.  Then, it was over.
        The happy couple strolled up the aisle as husband and wife, followed by the wedding party, out to the front steps of the church to greet their guests.  As soon as that fiasco was over then I could leave.  An outdoor reception was being held next door at Reichman's, a posh hotel with an expansive lawn.  When everybody left, then I could sneak out, unseen, from the side door of the church.
        I heard a creak on the staircase behind me so I frantically
looked for somewhere to hide.  The balcony was small, with only two pews parallel to the balcony's edge and an open space behind them so the only place available was the pew to my left.  The staircase was the only way out, I hoped whoever it was didn't come all the way onto the balcony, if they did they would find me for sure.
        The echoing steps effortlessly tapped up the stairs, didn't even pause, just walked up the center aisle to the edge of the balcony.  Adam looked down at the altar watching the staff cart the flowers over to the reception.  He didn't look at me when he spoke.  "How did you like the ceremony Deianira?"
        Here I was, dressed in faded ripped jeans and a tank top, no shoes, lying on the church pew, caught where I never wanted to be seen.  "Oh, it was typical . . . if you've seen one wedding you've seen them all.  The reception is usually the place to be.  You know, watch people get drunk and make asses of themselves."
        He smiled his characteristic smile, still looking at the scene below.  "Still, this must have been hard for you."  When he turned in my direction he backed away from the balcony's edge as if not to give me away.
        "I'd be lying if I said it was easy."  Why not tell the truth?  I was still stretched out on the pew, my knees in the air, one crossed over the other.  He sat in the other pew, facing me, not the altar.
        "Why did you come?  The last time I saw you your face was swollen from crying over those two."
        "There are only so many tears to cry Adam."
        "That does not answer my question.  Why subject yourself to pain?"
        "Masochism . . ."  I rolled on my stomach and held my face in my hands.  "Truth?  Pain has a way of making you feel extremely alive.  I felt that I had to be here; I can't totally explain it.  Sammy offered to come but I wanted to go through this alone.  It's closure Adam – it's an end."  My voice sounded stronger than I felt.
        "I see . . ."  He moved to the window that faced Reichman's.  "You were right about people getting drunk and foolish.  It has already begun."
        Through the crackling silence of the church I could hear music coming from the reception.  "I think everyone will forgive me if I don't go drink a toast to the happy couple."  I sat up and examined Adam.  "Did you know Eve invited me today?  What's next, sending me birth announcements after their kids are born?"
        "Yes I knew.  I asked her to invite you as my friend.  She was not happy with me and did not know we knew each other.  Of course I never told her that we went to school together . . . I knew she hated you."
        "So you're the culprit then.  Well, thanks for the invite."  I began to move toward the stairway.  "It's been real.  Don't get too drunk . . ."
        "Wait –"  Adam lightly grabbed my arm as I passed him.  "It appears that Rion could use your advise."  He pointed out the window where I could clearly see Rion finish chugging a bottle of champagne.
        "He's going to puke," was my only comment.
        "Probably, but it is no concern of ours, is it?"  He took my hand and gallantly bowed before me.  "May I have this dance?"
        Laughing in his face, I told him, "You're crazy!  Besides, I don't dance."
        "You do now!"  He pulled me toward him and began twirling me around the room.  Adam danced in his expensive tuxedo and dress shoes, while I danced in my jeans, barefoot.  Our dance was outlandish and he led with a furious pace.  All I could think of was the ballroom dancing competitions I had seen on Public Television.
        "Do you realize we're actually dancing to Stairway to Heaven?"  I laughed, somewhat breathless.
        "Yes, and we are doing a good job too."  He let my top lean back in a mock dip, then he pulled me close to his chest.  The pause was momentary, long enough to breathe twice.  He grinned and danced on.
        I was having fun, until I caught a glimpse through the window  of Eve and Rion kissing as a photographer snapped their picture.  It was a reality check.  Abruptly I broke away from Adam, out of breath.  "I have to go."  He didn't try to detain me.  "Thank you Adam . . ."  I awkwardly backed away then ran down the stairs headed for the front door, no longer caring who saw me.  Once outside I felt the first teardrop trickle down my face but didn't bother to wipe it away, more were coming.  I did stop and look back at the church.  Adam stood leaning against the door with his arms crossed.  His hands were fists.
        I understood much more now.

        Yes, Adam was the key.  He convinced Eve not to kill me, maybe he could convince her to drop the pregnancy plan and let me go.  Not that I was optimistic, I knew Eve probably couldn't be convinced and I also knew Adam wouldn't go against her wishes.  Something had to be done – soon.  There had been a knock on the door three days after seeing Adam, a few militia came to escort me to see a doctor.  There was no way I was going to voluntarily go along with any type of exam, so I fought with every bit of strength I had.  It didn't do me any good, six uniformed members of the militia held me down as the exam took place.  The doctor seemed somewhat sympathetic, but it didn't stop him from probing and performing the exam.  He told me they would sedate me for the eventual insemination, I could save myself the trouble of a fight.  I fought anyway, otherwise it would have been unbearable.  He asked many questions pertaining to my menstrual cycle and such, but I remained silent.  I would not help this violation to occur.  When I was deposited back at Reflection I allowed myself to scream as loud as I could while punching the closed door with my fist.  Sammy understood my frustration as best as she could.  She agreed, Adam was the only way out of this.
        The days dragged on with no word from outside our building.  It was like living in limbo, the fear that the door would open and they would be there to take me in for the procedure.  I made what preparations I could, three sharpened kitchen knives were concealed on my body.  I didn't have anything against the militia, meaning I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I wasn't above doing everything I could to stop insemination.  This was a war, and in war extraordinary actions were called for.  I would do what I had to, saving remorse for after.  Sammy and I also stock piled food and containers of water on an unused bedroom platform, if we could stand them off for even a while it would be better than nothing.  I knew eventually they would win, the only sure way out was to kill myself and I wasn't ready to die, not without maybe taking Eve with me.  For all I knew she couldn't be killed.  These type of thoughts were my constant companions as I waited.
        It seems ironic that after all the time and effort Sammy and I put into making preparations, I woke one night knowing someone other than Sammy was in the room.  Sammy was supposed to be keeping watch, though obviously she hadn't done a good job of it.  Sleeping in the bedroom stocked with our supplies had been a good idea, that is, only if the enemy was kept out.
        Someone was shuffling through the darkness, whoever it was seemed to know the layout of the room, but didn't expect to trip over cans of food stuffed into boxes.  The advantage I had was slight, I slipped from the bed on the opposite side from the rattle of cans.  Using the darkness, I kept close to the floor.  Once against the wall I listened as hard as I could trying to assess how many people were in the building, but the only sounds I heard were the slight ones in this room.  It was a pretty confident judgment to say there was only one person here, which gave me another slight advantage.  One against one was a fairer fight.  Besides the knives I had another crude weapon, two small cans of mandarin oranges tucked into a pillowcase.  If you swung with as much force as possible you could smash the sheet rock off the walls.  I wouldn't want to be hit with it, I really didn't want to hit anyone else, but I would if I had to and it seemed that the time was at hand.
        The intruder had reached the bed by this time, I could hear the blankets move and a hand patting the mattress feeling for my sleeping form.  Sorry, I thought, it's not going to be that easy.  If worse came to worse, a few days ago Sammy and I had rigged a crude escape route, knotted sheets enough to reach the ground floor.  It was only enough for a diversion I realized, but I had to do everything I could.
        Suddenly a logical thought hit me in the midst of the tense blackness.  If the militia had come to take me, it wouldn't be one lone person, it would be a squadron, especially after my uncooperative behavior at the exam.  If it was one person it was probably Adam or Rion, or . . . Eve.  No, if it was Eve she would have thrown the lights on and had me grovel at her feet.  I softly called out, "Hello Adam."
        The movement stopped.  It was Adam's familiar voice that answered in the darkness.  "How did you know it was me?"  He sounded amused, as always.
        "Process of elimination."  Actually, he was the safer choice.  All I needed was to piss him off by calling Rion's name.  I still held the can weapon on my lap but I knew I couldn't use it on Adam.  "What brings you out in the darkness to sneak around a girl's bedroom?"
        "Just stopping by to say hello . . ."  He joked.  From the sound of his voice I knew he was sitting on the bed.  This platform was darker than the one I normally slept in, probably because it was higher and away from the light usually left on near the entrance to the lifts.
        "And you just happened to be creeping up to the bed to surprise me, right?"
        "Something like that.  If you really want to know, I was afraid that you would be angry with me.  I heard about your trip to Doctor Engle the other day.  By the way, it amused Eve to hear of it."
        It was now or never I thought.  "I'm so happy I could amuse Eve –"  Wait, I had to lose the sarcasm, at least some of it.  "Adam . . ."  I began, not sure how to progress.  "I've been doing a lot of thinking since we talked the other day . . ."
        "About?"  He sounded interested.
        "About this situation – about, us . . ."  I took a deep breath.  "I can't tell you that I love you, I – don't know how I feel about you, there hasn't been enough time for me to think or decide . . ."  The words flew out of my mouth, more truthful than I intended.  "I do like you . . . I mean, I'm attracted to you and well, I've always enjoyed being around you . . ."  It wasn't going the way I had wanted.
        He interrupted.  "What are you trying to say?"
        "I don't know."  Standing, I let the sound of his voice lead me to him.  "I do know I don't want a forced pregnancy, especially Rion's children, not after what the bastard did to me."  I came upon the bed, sensing Adam's shape before me.  "You tell me that you remember how I was then – I'm not like that anymore.  It's been over a year since Rion left me to be with Eve, and their wedding was last spring.  What I'm trying to tell you is I've dealt with the fact that they're together.  Let them live happily ever after; I don't care."  That was nearly almost the truth.  Kneeling on the floor before him, I placed my hands on his knees; it was time for my speech.  "Adam, I want to live, to go on with my life.  So . . . if I have to be pregnant – I want the child to be yours.  I don't know any other way to say it.  Your sister is important to you; I know that, but I can tell that I'm important to you as well.  I know it appears that I'm asking you to choose between us and maybe I am.  Let's just think about what's best for us."  This was the only way I could stall him.   From the way he spoke the other day I assumed the reproductive problems hadn't been solved – yet.
        He laughed, reaching toward me.  "Self-preservation is a wonderful thing to behold!"  His hands were stationed on either side of my face.  "'If I have to be pregnant'," he repeated, "that has a desperate sound to it."
        What did he expect?  "Maybe I am desperate Adam.  You are the only one who can help me . . . I know that . . . would the phrase I would do anything have any kind of impact?"  Begging was not in the plan, the plan seemed to be gone.  Then again, I knew he wouldn't have believed if I promised eternal love; this could work to my advantage.  "I know my life is in your hands . . ."  I raised my hands and used them to remove his from my face.  Gently I cradled his hands in mine then kissed them and told him, "When I needed someone, you were there for me.  I've been thinking about those times."  I hoped I wasn't being too sappy.
        He slid from the bed into a sitting position on the floor, turning my body so I was practically sitting on his lap.  "Eve would be very angry."  He said this as a fact, without emotion.
        "I'm sorry."  I murmured, without much conviction.
        He laughed and angled my position so that we were face to face.  "I cannot believe you are sorry that Eve would be upset."
        I smiled.  "What's a lie between friends?  Rion would be as upset as Eve you know."
        "Yes, I know.  Do you want me to be honest?"
        Thinking that I had nothing to lose I said yes.
        "My dear Deianira.  You will probably hate me after I tell you this . . ."  He seemed to tighten his grip around my arms.  "It was I who encouraged my sister to pursue your boyfriend.  Now, I did not lie when I told you that Eve used no potions nor magical powers.  Rion left you of his own free will, but – he may not have if I had not influenced Eve."
        Trying to understand what he was saying wasn't easy.
        "Eve does love that idiot, with as much love as she is capable of, you see, my sister is very cold and self-centered.  Rion will pay a terrible price for giving you up; Eve will make him miserable, but that is not my concern.  He will make Eve happy, no matter what.  That is, if he can let you go, at least physically.  Did he touch you the other night?"
        Involuntarily I looked away, not saying a word.
        "It does not matter."  He continued.  "What is important is the fact that you tell me you do not want him – and consider wanting me."
        This was extremely wrong.  For a while I had thought nothing could shock me, but I was pretty shocked.  Wait until Rion heard this.  He thought he was the reason I was in danger – yet it was the other way around.
        "Deianira, I knew you would be happy with me, but I also knew you would never consider me if Rion was an option.  He is not, now I am."  His arms still held me firmly although I hadn't moved an inch.  "Please do not hate me.  Rion chose Eve of his own accord; I did not do that for him –"
        "So you keep telling me."  I interjected.
        "I may have done you a favor.  Please, tell me what you are thinking."
        "Nothing rational, believe me."  My voice sounded small, yet solid.
        "Love is not rational Deianira.  If it was those of us with intelligence would stay away from it.  Sometimes love is inevitable, or unchangeable."
        Like my love for Rion, I thought.  It hasn't changed and yet it has.  It has ceased to make a difference whether it exists or not; this – reality – that was what was important.  "Remember," I told Adam; "I never said I loved you."  Just what does it mean to love?

        What now?  Adam, cruelty didn't begin to describe the events he had set into motion.  I should have hated the bastard but I didn't.  Maybe he had done me favor.  I didn't know.  I was numb.  All this time I had blamed Eve for everything, thinking she was in charge.  Now – now to find Adam responsible when he seemed like a ray of hope – I was more trapped than before.  How far had Adam been willing to pursue his plan?  The memory of my pelvic exam with Doctor Engle was still vivid enough to make me squirm.  I couldn't imagine Adam allowing the procedure to actually take place, not after his confession.  Still, my prime objective was to get back to the Earth's surface.  At least it seemed the options were more plentiful there.
        Adam left Reflection a happy man.  I wasn't very happy because he took Sammy with him and away from me.  Upset or not, I tried to act pretty damn cool; I realized Adam could be dangerous.  He justified his actions by using mine and Sammy's 'pre-insemination' preparations as an example of the trouble we may get in together.  I tried to subtly soothe him.  Emphasizing the Rion angle, how a forced pregnancy with Rion's child was the last thing we wanted, (I included Adam in the 'we') I tried to convince him to leave Sammy with me.  He just grinned and said I would be calmer by myself, that we had many plans to make.  I felt he was jumping the gun as far as plans were concerned but it didn't seem like a good idea to tell him.  As hard as I tried to remain calm I couldn't.  I eventually snapped and shouted that he was an asshole if he couldn't trust me.  Again he laughed, then blew a kiss as he led Sammy through the door.  He wasn't going to change his mind and I knew it as much as I knew it wouldn't be long before Sammy and I would be free – if there was any possible way.  I hoped he wouldn't hold me to my promise of doing anything to get out of this . . . anything included many despicable possibilities.  He did tell me to trust him and in a minute way I did.  Although, it would be easier to trust him if he left Sammy and I together.
        He returned two hours later to find me pacing the living room floor, ironically, in the same spot Sammy had paced a few weeks before.  Without any warning he approached me, blocking my path.  He kissed my forehead and took my hand, much in the same way he took Sammy's two hours earlier.  I thought he was acting a bit too happy, after all, it wasn't as if I told him I wanted a  relationship.  Unfortunately, he acted as if I had.  We left Reflection without speaking, leaving behind the clothes, the food, all the preparations he had made without a glance behind him.
        The air temperature outside Reflection was at least twenty degrees cooler.  The cold cut through the cotton tee shirt I wore and I felt myself shiver involuntarily.  Adam noticed, putting his arm around my shoulders pulling me closer to him.  In order not to appear awkward, I hesitantly moved my arm around his waist, causing him to smile.  He was warm.  Maybe I should ask him about his body temperature; for an alien it could normally be very high.  These are the things you'll have to think about from now on, I thought.  I shivered again, this time not from the cold.  I couldn't shake the feeling that I had made a deal with the devil, or, that someone had made one for me.
        "Guess where we are going."  Adam's voice had an exuberant tone.
        "The Moon?"  It was good to be out in the open again.
        "Always the wise ass."  He smiled good naturedly.  "I am taking you home."
        I stopped and stared at him.  "Home?"
        "Home.  Earth.  Index.  Do you want to go home?"
        There was no delay in my response.  "Yes!"  Cool!  I didn't even have to scheme or lie to get back.  Once I was on Earth . . .  "Yes – more than anything –"
        "Anything –?"
        "Now who's being the smartass?  You know what I mean."  We began walking again.  I had a thought.  "Is that where Sammy is?"
        He looked off into the distance not speaking for a moment before he said no.
        I stopped again, this time moving away from him.  "Then where the hell is she?"
        "She is safe."
        "You keep saying that!"
        "That is because she is."  He took a few steps onward then turned toward me.  "Come.  We have much to do.  Sammy is here, at Red Key."  His hand swept in the direction of the buildings before us, then beckoned to me.
        "Why can't she come with us?"
        His smile was sad.  "You and I both know that you and your sister would disappear and I do not feel like chasing after you."
        I trudged on not bothering with a reply because he was probably right.  Is this how an animal feels when its caged?  What about a domesticated pet?  There weren't any literal walls to hold me yet I was bound to Adam in more ways than one.  All my instincts called for freedom.  So much so that I had to slow myself after getting ahead of him.  He reached for my hand again, casually holding my flesh as if it were a prize.
        We went by the buildings we had passed during our walk.  I recognized Red Key and wondered if Sammy and Gina would meet up.  If Adam thought Sammy and I were trouble together – Sammy and Gina could be an extremely dangerous team.  They both thought in the same way.  If there were a possibility of escape Sammy would find it.  I hoped she would hook up with Gina.  They could help each other.  We passed the observatory on our right.  Pensively I stared at the structure; I had trusted Adam much more then.  He began walking faster.  I turned my attention back to our destination, which appeared to be a smallish building of the same color as all the others here, dull gray.
        "Adam, how are we getting home?"  This building didn't look large enough to house any type of space craft that I could imagine.
        He began to skip like a young girl, then grabbed my other hand and kept turning me in a circle before he answered.  "Once again I have to plead ignorance my dear."  My feet were doing their best to keep up but this spin was as unexpected as everything else I had gone through.  "Careful, you do not want to fall!"  His insane twirl was overwhelming.  I felt the dizziness in my brain spread to my legs which collapsed.  He didn't break his stride, just scooped me up and carried me.  I had no choice but to cling to him.   Everything but his chest was spinning and I needed an anchor.  The revolutions subsided as we neared the building so I attempted to squirm out of his arms.
        "You can put me down now; I'm Okay."
        He continued walking, holding me as if I were a newborn child.  "I like carrying you.  Just enjoy the ride."
        Enjoy the ride?  Damn, I thought.  "You just want to control me Adam.  You're a control freak.  Don't try to deny it."
        He held me as firmly as he could without hurting me.  "Maybe I am.  What is not a control issue?"
        Of course I couldn't think of anything; the situation wasn't exactly conducive for philosophical thought.  "All I know right now is that I would really appreciate it if you would let me control myself.  Put me down so I can walk."
        "I would rather carry you."
        Anger rose from within.  "Damn it Adam, put me the fuck down!  If you think this kind of crap is going to endear you to my heart then you're sadly mistaken – in fact I am really beginning to dislike you!"
        He immediately placed me on my feet and stepped away.  "I am sorry Deianira.  It is just – I am very exited – I really do not mean to smother you.  I simply cannot hold my happiness inside."  I thought of the Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde scenario. Adam fit right in, seeming to move from one extreme to another too easily.  His countenance had become completely apologetic and he regarded me with a happiness that was undeniably infectious.
        Isn't it funny how the sappiest statements become profound when expressed sincerely?  Fighting against what I knew to be a dangerous emotion, I felt myself warm toward him.  "You can be happy – just chill a bit.  You know, relax.  You're making me nervous."  Looking into his eyes made me realize I was attracted way more than I should be under these circumstances.  When he told me that love wasn't rational I had kind of disagreed.  I always thought it was rational that freed the mind enough to break down the self-defensive barriers usually placed to regulate the feelings of love.  It was rational and logic that lead to trust – an integral aspect of love – yet I couldn't trust him.  As he kissed me I realized I was being far from rational.  All I could think of was the softness of his lips and how good he smelled.  I liked the way he kissed, easily, with a passion not necessarily restrained, but at ease with the contact our lips made.  It was a comfortable kiss.  My arms found the back of his neck to bring his mouth closer – and to feel the silkiness of his hair.  The kiss seemed exotic and intensified by the fact that we stood alone on a manufactured Moon path in sight of a building with an open door.  The kiss ended abruptly, though our lips still touched.  Hasn't it been forever since Rion appeared on that night?  Didn't our lips rest together lightly with the same ease?  I couldn't believe my body's response toward Adam's kiss – the sexual magnetism was almost overpowering.  What the hell was I doing?  My body kept saying yes while my mind said I don't know.  He says love isn't rational . . . wait a minute – this has nothing to do with love and everything to do with duress.  Slowly my face parted from his.  It was time to get on with it.
        "Obsession isn't very attractive Adam."
        He hugged me as if I were delicate porcelain ready to snap if handled roughly, then took my hand starting toward the door of the building before us.  "Maybe not – but you kissed me."
        A nap would be nice right now, I thought.  No, a coma, a nice vacation coma where none of this was happening.  Changing the subject, I asked again, "How are we getting home?  You can answer this time without twirling me until I'm dizzy."
        "At this point I do not think it is safe to tell you."
        Was he trying to give me a migraine?  "Why the hell not?"
        His attention was focused on some militia standing just inside the door.  "Because I want to trust you but know I cannot."  He gestured to one of the group.  "Come inside, I have something I need to take care of before I leave."  He and an older man wearing an ill fitting uniform walked away leaving me at the door.  Just a snatch of their conversation drifted back toward me:  "We have no choice.  They knew this was coming –"
        In the cluster of uniformed soldiers near me I noticed one was none other than Hardy.  Not knowing their military protocol, and not caring, I approached him with a grin saying hello.
        He smiled nervously, glancing at his confederates, but he did return my greeting.  The others moved away but Hardy stayed where he was.  "Your name is Greek, is it not?"  He questioned.
        Surprised, I answered affirmatively, wondering why the ethnicity of my name would matter to an alien militia man.  I had to ask him what his name was; I couldn't keep thinking of him as Hardy.
        He shyly replied, "Fardin."  He pronounced it like Faadeene. "It's Iranian."
        "That's one name I never would have guessed."  We smiled for a moment but I became distracted while assessing the inside of the building.  I guess I expected a type of hanger, housing space ships, but I was wrong.  Instead, it was bare, like an empty warehouse.  I noticed there were quite a few doors.  In fact there were more doors in this building than I had ever seen contained in one place.  There wasn't even a manufactured floor.  The crusty Moon surface was the material beneath our feet.  There wasn't much else to see so I refocused my attention on Fardin.
        "Why did you ask about my name?"  I questioned.
        "Greece is rumored to be a lovely place to visit, tepid climate, ancient ruins and all.  I have never been there.  Have you?"
        "No, I've never been either."
        He stretched his arms out to his sides.  "Maybe that is where the Commander will take you on your honeymoon.  A conduit conveys one to Athens."
        I scrutinized him for a long few seconds, then babbled, "Commander . . . honeymoon?"  What the hell was he talking about?  The answer to my question seemed too easy.  "Are conduits the way back to Earth?"  The urgency in my voice almost sounded desperate.  "Are these doors conduits?"
        He looked behind him toward Adam who stood conversing with the other militia member, then at his feet.  "I think I just fucked up."  His voice was low and lacked any of the easy going tone it had previously had.  We regarded each other silently before he spoke, practically pleading.  "Look, you seem pretty cool, so I will ask of you a favor.  Please do not let the Commander know I slipped . . ."  He seemed scared.
        Spontaneously I felt I had a chance.  "Well, Fardin, I am pretty cool, so, why don't we make a little deal?"  He barely shook his head yes as he stared at my face.  "We owe each other a favor.  Right?" Adam was moving in this direction, so I slipped a thin silver band from my left index finger and spoke fast.  "Shake my hand."  Bewildered, he tentatively reached out a limp hand, in which I placed the ring.  His fist tightened around it.  "Can you get my sister and some slave named Gina housed in the same place?"  I hadn't thought of or planned this and didn't know what it would accomplish.
        "I can try."  He whispered.
        "Good.  Give Sammy the ring and tell her I arranged it too.   Can you do that?"  Adam was almost to us.
        "I will do my best."  Fardin turned and saluted Adam, barking, "It is a good day to die Commander!"  The ring was no longer in his hand.
        "It is, Recruit."  Adam returned the salute and joined my side.  "I see you have been talking with Deianira . . ."
        Oh, so Adam is the Commander, whatever that means.  What's this good day to die shit?  I could have sworn I heard that line in some movie.  I jumped into the conversation.  "Yes, Fardin here was one of the militia who brought me to Reflection."  I took Adam's hand, hoping the gesture would distract him.  At the same time I glanced at my hand where the ring had been.  "He was very nice too, not like his partner.  He was a bastard –"
        "In what way?"  Adam's eyes seemed too bright.
        "He . . ."  I hesitated; Adam's expression was making me uneasy.  "Well . . . he clamped the cuffs pretty tight on my wrists and . . . uh, then told me that I was lucky I wasn't being dragged behind . . ."  It sounded pretty lame now that I put it into words.
        "Who was your partner, Recruit?"  Adam's voice was harshly authoritarian.
        "Richards, Commander!"
        Fardin must have been brushing up on his military etiquette I thought, because this was quite a professional performance compared to the other time I saw him.
        Adam called out to the man he had been speaking with, who rushed over.  "Find Richards," Adam ordered, "and kill him."
        The other man and Fardin stood nonpulsed whereas I was shocked.  I spoke up.  "Adam, can I speak to you alone for a minute?"  He was obviously some commissioned member of this militia so I didn't want to question him in front of his men.  We moved ten feet away before I softly blurted out, "Why are you having him killed?"
        His eyes were somber.  "Because he disobeyed orders.  You were a priority seven transport; you should have been escorted with care, not with insolence –"
        "What a great reason to kill someone!  You have to be joking!"
        "This is no joke.  Orders are orders, there must be compliance; there are lives at stake when someone disobeys.  Besides, many have died for less on Earth."  He was deadly serious.  "You said –"
        "No way Adam - this isn't some worthless holy war fought for some obscure and meaningless god.  I refuse to be responsible for some guy's death when he really didn't do anything wrong.  He wasn't malicious; he just made a mistake.  Rescind that order."  I had only been making conversation; I didn't want Laurel or Richards, whoever the hell he was to die!
        He stared at me for a moment, then smiled wearily.  "Are you ordering the control freak to give up control?"
        "No.  I am asking who I thought was a decent guy to do the sane thing."
        "Never use sanity as an ideal, dear.  It is an obsolete paragon – in this context anyway."  He looked at me sadly.  "Is this what you really want?"
        "Yes, Adam it is.  Human history is the worst paradigm.  Don't make the same mistakes."  In my nervousness I became aware that I was twisting my crystal ball ring, fingering it as if it were a talisman.
        He paused, probably to torture me.  "Then he shall live, although he will lose rank for his mistake."  Then under his his breath he muttered, "And be watched closely."  After a trademark Adam smile he finished, "But, if it ever comes to my attention that he is anything less than gracious –"  The statement didn't need to be finished.
        Adam returned to the area where Fardin and the other man stood.  He smilingly canceled the order reiterating that Richards would now be reduced to a recruit.  The men nodded and turned to leave, but not before Fardin quickly looked in my eyes.  I thought he would do as I asked.  I looked at Adam and slowly let the breath that I held in out.  Be careful, I told myself.  Be careful what you do and say.  You are literally crawling into bed with a maniac.

        I was despondent.  Here I was back home but no closer to finding a way out of this situation.  Adam had taken me by the arm and with no explanation steered me toward one of the doors.  We stepped through.  Thoughts of an eventual escape melted from my mind.  A lot of good it would do me to know this was a conduit.  All the doors looked identical.  I'd have no idea where I'd end up – or if.  I couldn't halt the feeling of hopelessness that threatened to override my hope.  Although a small part of my psyche clung to the truth, there must be a way out.
        It was chilling to step through the conduit door.  The darkness was so complete that I felt as if it erased my very existence.  The temperature was both hot and cold at once; I was flushed yet had goosebumps.  After no more than ten steps a warm grayness appeared ahead, then another door.  The process took all of 14 seconds.  To my surprise we were back at the house where Sammy and I had come to meet Rion.  Maybe that's why both Adam and Rion didn't want me wandering around that day.  Who knows where different doorways led?  I thought about Rion again.  How much had he known?  He was right, there was something here that gave one a feeling of safety.  Pent up tension drained from my body, though my mind remained alert.  Then again, maybe I was just glad to get off the Moon.  It was hard to suppress an ironic laugh.  How many millions of people would give practically anything to be where I'd been?  Adam and I didn't discuss this transition from Moon to Earth – but he knew I wasn't stupid.  I assumed this was some sort of test of trust, otherwise, he would have rendered me unconscious, as I was for the journey to the Moon.  That's right Adam, you can trust me – as far as you know.  I knew better.  Fardin had spoken of my marriage with the Commander – yet Adam hadn't even mentioned a word about it.  This was crazy; I didn't want to marry Adam.  I didn't want to marry anyone.
        We quit the deserted house to find Adam's battered white Porsche outside.  Getting into the car was difficult.  I wanted to flee across the fields into the nearby woods, not only to get away from Adam, but to reacclimate myself with nature.  It was late winter, almost spring, and the contrast between the filtered air beneath the Moon dome and the real air beneath the atmosphere was physically stimulating to the senses.  The longer you remained on the Moon the more sluggish you would be, only you wouldn't realize it unless you came back to Earth.  I never felt lethargic on the Moon – yet I felt completely exhilarated now.
        Adam drove us to Salford Hall, where he told me we would be staying.  This was just what I needed, to be shacked up with Adam, Rion and Eve, fun fun fun.  When we pulled into the circular drive I had to stifle an urge to beg Adam to take me somewhere, anywhere but here.  Funny, it almost seemed like the same feeling I had when Sammy and I approached the house of conduits – and life had gone downhill since.
        Salford Hall was a looming brick edifice without the typical order and organization associated with a brick home; fanaticism came to mind when envisioning the architect.  Senselessly scattered brick spires reached toward the Moon we had just left, smoke like, separating asymmetrical sections of the house.  I hadn't been here in years so my curiosity involuntarily perked up.  The grounds were definitely in the best shape I had ever seen them in, even in winter.  Shrubs were meticulously clipped, even without their leaves the proper shrub shape was portrayed.  The driveway was smooth in comparison to the way I remembered, I was sure new asphalt was probably one of the first modifications Adam did.
        The late afternoon sun couldn't help the gloominess that settled around Salford, although the gloom was of my construction rather than a reality.  I was glad the sun was out, it had been quite a while since I felt that familiar heat against my skin, as unhealthy as sunlight is supposed to be it doesn't seem to equal the rejuvenating feeling you get when experiencing the rays.  Adam did all the talking for the whole trip, in fact, it seemed his mouth never quit for a moment.  I listened carefully to every word though, I felt my life depended on it.  Now he babbled about how I would love my room, he designed it to match my personality.  Wonderful, I couldn't wait to see how he interpreted my personality into interior decorations.  No one came to greet us as we entered the house, I literally thought I could hear a pin drop, actually I thought I heard a billion pins dropping, but it was just my nerves crackling.  The place seemed deserted.
        Adam gestured proudly, quite happy to show off his home, although he didn't give me any time to look at anything.  He kept a steady pace telling me he was bringing me to my room so I could rest.  Silently I trudged behind him up the wide carpeted staircase to the third floor, the thought of being left alone was welcomed.    My 'room' turned out to be the size of four rooms put together, and I had to admit, (to myself at least), that it was quite nice, though a bit extravagant.  Adam obviously interpreted my personality to mirror Earth's ecosystem because walking into this room was like walking into one of those Nature stores in a mall, only nothing had price tags on it.  The pale gray of the walls reminded me of the outdoors for some reason, it was almost a gentle slate color; it definitely complimented the furnishings.  The frame for the bed was a seemingly impossible weave of genuine Birch branches, complete with bark.  The legs of the night stands matched, with some other type of wood for their tabletop surface.  Several delicate mobiles seemed to float in space, the wires that held them were extremely thin.  In a glance I noticed hanging from most of the mobiles various delicate birds that seemed to be flying with kinetic energy.  Adam left me as soon as he saw the look of pleasure on my face.  It was nice, I did like it, even though he carried this nature theme a little far.  I still hadn't spoken to him.  The forest colored carpet felt somewhat like a sponge as I crossed it, moving toward the window sill where a lovely solid bronze sculpture of a dancer leaned provocatively.   A large red bow with a card around her waist is what I reached for.  Opening the card was difficult, my fingers were trembling for some reason.
 

Deianira –
Several thoughts must be going through your head, not the least of which is probably hatred for the way I have changed your life.  Changes are difficult in any instance, but these are so dramatic I know you need time.  This dancer is a gift, she reminded me of you.  Think of our dance in the church . . .
With love,
Adam

        'Changes are difficult', huh?  Who was he trying to placate, himself or me?  The statue was gorgeous though.  How could he be so sane and sweet one minute, then act crazy and diabolical the next?  Maybe that's how aliens are, I thought.  Then again there were plenty erratic humans, especially those who claimed to be in love.  Bending before the statue, I kneeled to get a better view.  The artist seemed to catch one moment of fluid motion and freeze it for eternity.  This dancer was dressed in the loose dress of a gypsy, her flowing skirt swirling about her hidden, yet obviously muscular legs, bare feet in mid step rested on the base.  Her right arm stretched higher than her left, coming to a point at the tips of her graceful fingers, the peasant blouse slopping off her left shoulder in a seemingly unintentional seductive way.  It was the dancer's head that drew my attention, unbelievably it was my face and hair caught within the bronze.  I had to smile, the gypsy dancer had rings on every finger, as I did.  Who was this artist and how could he or she have created such a remarkable piece without me as a model?
        Once again Adam proved to be a contradiction.  I just wanted to understand why.  Why had he chosen me?  Self-esteem aside, I knew I wasn't exceptional, so why did he choose me to obsess on?  In my life I've been told I was pretty, Rion told me I was beautiful, probably because he loved me.  Smiling, I thought back to Fardine's statement, 'you seem pretty cool', maybe that was why Adam felt this way.  If I asked him I knew what his answer would be, love is not rational.  Oh well.  I felt more trapped than I ever had in my life, literally claustrophobic.
        Looking out the window gave me no relief, the trees were too plentiful and close to the house so they blocked any kind of meaningful view.  I tried to open the window to feel the crisp air, but I noticed it was painted shut.  Hummm, I wonder if that was intentional.  It wasn't as if the window was an escape route, but, if jumped from, death or serious disability was inevitable from the stone courtyard below. Snow wouldn't be much of a cushion from this height.  Suicide was the last thing on my mind, there had to be a solution, plus, Sammy was still trapped on the Moon and I couldn't desert her.  The door opened behind me but I didn't turn, Adam could do or say what he liked without my attention.
        "I just don't know."  The slightly shrill feminine voice sent shivers down my spine.  I whirled around to face Eve.  She closed the door softly, standing just inside of it.  "I don't know why he brought you here."
        My tone was savage, matching hers.  "This is the last place on Earth I'd like to be.  Don't worry, if I had any way to leave I'd be gone."
        She studied me for a few seconds, twisting her pale hair as if it were rope.  "So – how did you do it?"
        "Do what?"  I had no idea what she was talking about.
        "How did you trick Adam?  He's never denied me anything!  Now he denies everything I want!"  She stamped her foot and actually pouted like a four year old child.
        "Look, I don't know what the hell is wrong with your family, and I don't give a shit."  My voice was fairly calm.  "You'd better have a long talk with your brother, not me.  I'm the last person in the world who can tell him what to do."  That wasn't altogether true but I wasn't going to disclose the fact, especially since I hadn't asked Adam not to bring me here.  I asked her, "Do you think I would ask him to bring me here?"  She concentrated on twisting her hair, not even looking at me so I continued.  "I thought you were the one controlling everything!  I haven't done a damn thing!"
        "You lie!"  She hissed.  "I don't care what Adam wants – you will not be allowed to interfere in my life!"  Her hair was forgotten, she stepped toward me, menacing with clenched fists.
        My hand easily reached for the elegant sculpture, my fingers snaking around the base.  The weight felt good in my hand.  I had a passing thought, isn't it a gun that's supposed to feel good in your hand? "Nothing would please me more than to see your fucking brains splattered over this carpet Eve."  Calm had shattered and I completely snapped.  "I've had enough of you and your brother – damn well enough!"  My feet were carrying me forward and I knew I had lost control.  "You better beg me for your life bitch.  Otherwise your blood, whatever color it may be, is going to make me a happy woman."
        She had her back against the door by now, staring at me with her dark eyes, I couldn't tell whether she was afraid or not.  She whimpered, "I won't beg . . ."
        "Not good enough, beg or suffer damn it!"  The lean dancer was held above my head, from the corner of my eye I could see my biceps poised to bring the statue down.  "Do you remember telling me my name was ridiculous?  I wonder if you realize how cliché your name is!"  She visibly winced, her eyes fluttering.  "This isn't the Garden of Eden EVE . . ."
        She blinked more from my sarcasm than from the threat of the bronze weapon.  When she spoke her voice was venomous.  "After I met you in the diner I bought a mythology book.  I hated you twice as much after I found that you were right about the names."  What a surprise I thought, as if she wasn't at a maximum hate stage to begin with.  She would have hated me just as much if I had been wrong I'd bet.  "I also read that Deianira killed her husband Heracles."  She sounded satisfied, as if the Deianira she spoke of was me.
        "Meaning what?"  I had begun to calm.  "Your namesake Eve brought sin and destruction to paradise – and the whole fucking world for chrissake."  I realized we sounded like a couple of squabbling kids, 'did too' 'did not', but I was drawn in regardless.  "Anyway, Deianira was tricked."
        "So was Eve."  She replied.
        We warily assessed each other for a moment.  The crisis was averted, I still held the statue, but I had lowered it.
        "So we have something in common."  I didn't sound very happy.
        "We also have Rion."  Her tone was placid.
        I laughed sarcastically.  "No, you have Rion."
        "You got that right."  She shot me an evil look.  "And I intend to keep it that way."
        This conversation was becoming tiresome, she was worse than an adolescent.  "Oh, don't worry about me going after Rion,"  I spoke over my shoulder as I crossed to the bed.  "he'll come to me."  The comment slid out.  I sat on the edge of a quilt wonderfully arrayed with an ornate nature scene, and held the statue on my lap just in case.
        "No he won't."  She didn't seem as confident as she sounded.
        "We'll see now won't we?"  I didn't even want to see Rion, let alone deal with his jealousy of Adam but I couldn't help but bait her.
        "You won't be here long."  She finally reached for the doorknob.
        "Go ahead, do whatever you can to talk Adam into taking me some place else, you'd be doing me a favor."
        Her eyes burned in my direction.  "That's the only favor you'll ever get from me."  She stared intensely for a second and I found myself gripping the statue tighter.  Then she was gone.  I looked down upon the dancer's face, her lips formed a subtle half smile and her eyes glanced off secretively to the right with a knowing expression.  It was strange to study my own face, not the same as in a mirror, but as if your identity were stolen and you must struggle to redefine your Self.  Who am I really?
        My depression had vanished, the altercation with Eve inspired me to action.  I couldn't get that Janis Joplin tune out of my mind, the phrase, freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, kept repeating over and over.  I didn't care what I had to do, let those bridges burn.  Initially I had to get Adam to take me away from Salford Hall, before I killed Eve or she killed me – or we killed each other.

        I must have fallen asleep because it was dark when I woke up to find the statue clutched against my chest like a teddy bear.  The complete silence felt like an assault against my ears; it was as quiet as a tomb, doesn't anyone make any noise here?  This feeling of isolation was worse than how I felt on the Moon.  What I needed was motion, after twenty-seven push ups I decided to prowl around, check this place out.  The door knob gave no resistance when I turned it and the door opened smoothly – no creaks here.  Please let me not run into Eve, I thought, as I casually strolled down the stairs, at least don't let me see her without some sort of weapon.  Soft overhead lights illuminated the stairs and hallways but there was no sign of life, not a peep.  This could be a test, and, I'm not going to fail it.  But, I wasn't going to cloister myself in my room either, though it was more of a nature sanctuary than a peaceful bedroom.  It's called overkill Adam.
        Once on the ground floor I wandered through the various rooms, though the front door kept beckoning me toward it.  Huge rooms stuffed with fancy furniture, art and such were all I found.  This is boring.  He never told me I had to stay inside, now did he?  I glided to the door half expecting it to be locked.  It wasn't.
        The air was brisk, probably a little below freezing, but I couldn't have cared.  The frosty night air was perfect as far as I was concerned, the jeans and turtleneck I wore would suffice.  A shoveled path curled around the north side of the house and after a minute hesitation to see what my other options were, I followed it.  Floodlights hung from the spires and from trees bathing the walkway with light – too much light actually.  Self-consciously I reached for a handful of undisturbed snow and held it gently, I never thought I could have missed snow but I guess I did.  The path steadily grew darker, now very small patio lights stabbed into the ground were glowing to guide my way.  At the end of the walkway was a small building not unlike one I recognized from the Moon, only much smaller, an observatory.  My pace quickened, I could at least see where Sammy was.
        Two ornate telescopes rose from their perspective podiums, I scrambled up to the one on the left.  It took me a minute to adjust the focus, but, there it was, what a clear night to observe the Moon.  I searched frantically, looking for the compound but it was no where to be found.  I'm not crazy, it has to be here somewhere!  I stepped away and looked at the other telescope to see if it was any different but they were the same model, Astrostar 49, only one was blue, the other green.  The same side of the Moon always faces Earth so I knew the compound would have to be on this side.  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a bobbing light drawing closer, it was Adam carrying a flashlight.
        "Where the hell is it?"  I hardly waited for him to get inside the door before I questioned him.
        "Where is what?"  He feigned innocence.
        "Where the hell are all those buildings, the people – the fucking dome!"
        "Calm down, it is all there."  He held a lightweight eiderdown jacket in his hand.  "Put this on, you must be cold."
        "Screw your jacket – where's my sister?"  Damn, I thought, how many times was I going to be forced to ask that question?
        He glanced at the coat, smiling.  "No, thanks . . . I could not decide between blue or red.  In the end I chose red . . ."
        Exasperated, I stamped my foot and screamed, "Where!"
        "Mare Imbrium . . ."
        "Yeah, yeah, The Sea of Showers, I know, but they aren't there; you can spare the geography lesson, I looked."
        "You could look forever and not see it my dear, camouflage."
        My sarcasm was apparent, "Of course."
        "The dome acts much like a tinted window.  The dark area of the surface naturally becomes a hiding place.  If we want to remain anonymous we could not have every professional, or amateur astronomer, discovering a military installation on the Moon."
        Easy now, don't come across too bitchily.  "Yeah, I can see your point.  It's just, for a minute I thought I was going crazy or something because I couldn't find it."  I reached for the jacket, slipping it on.  "Thanks."
        "You are most welcome."  He appraised the fit of the jacket, nodding his head.  "It looks very nice."
        "Yeah, well its quite warm."  It was.  "Adam, is it fair to withhold such wonderful technology as you possess, you know, people could really benefit."
        "The technology is being 'discovered' as we speak.  That way the assimilation of my people is not in jeopardy."
        "Oh."  I shifted from foot to foot trying to think of something to say; I didn't like the way he was looking at me.  "I hope you're not mad that I came out here; I felt trapped."
        He regarded me with open amusement.  "No, as long as you did not try to leave."
        "Adam, you know I can't stay here."
        "And why is that?"
        "In a word – Eve."  I watched his face, but his expression didn't change.  "She and I finally agree on something; we shouldn't exist under the same roof.  She scares me."
        He laughed hard, practically convulsing.  "You are afraid?  Scared of my sister?"
        "Yeah, I'm afraid I'll have to kill her if she doesn't –"
        "That is more like it!"  He laughed even harder.
        "What the hell is so funny?"
        "You are.  I could not think of you being afraid."
        "There are things that scare me Adam, don't kid yourself.  I'm not a superhero."  I'll just do my best to make sure that you don't get a chance to hold those fears against me.  Time to change the subject, I thought.  "I love the statue Adam; who's the artist?"
        "A close friend who lives to create," he answered.  "She worked especially hard on that piece."
        "How could she render my likeness in such a way without me as a model?"
        He glanced toward the path, almost as if to check that we were alone.  "She had pictures and video, as well as my description."  His eyes locked into mine with a fierce passion.  "She would tell you that she sees from the inside, what a person appears as dictated by whom she really is.  I commissioned a sculpture, not of a particular type, but of her conception.  As you can surmise she is gifted at seeking the truth - and rendering it in material form.  She sees you as a willowy dancer with the legs of a kickboxer, able to gracefully dance but able to defend if need be.  Your smile is ambiguous, it can stand for happiness, yes, but it can hide the pain and dread and fear that lurks beneath it."  For some reason I felt goosebumps at what he was saying.  "The most important aspect of the statue is what it represents.  It represents you – in material form but not your essence, just as your unconscious body cannot convey the enormous depth of your spirit, your tension."
        We silently regarded each other, with me still on the podium, Adam on the floor before me.  It took a moment for me to find my voice, thankfully, when I spoke it sounded normal.  "I would like to meet this artist."
        "That is up to her; she can be very temperamental as you can imagine.  I would not be surprised if she came to you though, Christa was interested in who you were."  He looked at me with a critical respect.  "I think you better go inside, after all, you are not used to the cold.  Lisa will get you anything you need."
        "Lisa?"
        "She functions as a maid, so to speak."
        "I haven't seen anyone since we got here."
        "Yes, she was off doing errands; she is back now.  To summon her dial '9' on the phone in your room, and, feel free to call any friends who may wonder where you have been.  I am sure you can think of a plausible explanation for you and your sister's absence."
        "Your sister took care of most of my friends."
        "Just in case you think of anyone –"  He knew I wasn't going to start an alien witch hunt, especially with Sammy as his bargaining chip.
        "Yes, we canceled our move to Florida, instead, we've been on vacation; Sammy is due to return any day."
        "That depends on you, does it not?"
        "She will return any day,"  I repeated.  He nodded; we understood each other.
        "Very good, you can find your way inside."  He took my hand and held it to his lips, I had to fight the recurring vision of our kiss, when the warmth of those lips touched mine, the thought was both sickening and exiting.  "I must return to the Moon on a short trip."  His lips formed a serious frown and he glanced toward the sky.  "Will you think of me in my absence?"
        "If you see Sammy tell her she's coming home soon."  I removed my hand and stepped down to his level.  I leaned his face toward mine and paused for a few seconds feeling an electrical force seem to build between us.  This isn't so hard, I thought as I brought my lips to his forehead and then to his lips.  I intended to lightly kiss him, to play along with this insane game he was playing, but the force which built during the scarce pause exploded.  We fell back against the telescope, feeling it rock slightly through the violence of the embrace.  I tore myself away, holding my hand against my mouth, backing away as if he were poised to chase me.  He leaned against the telescope not moving, staring with a blank seriousness that was more alarming than fanatic intensity would have been.  Reaching the door I felt the cold air flood in, breaking the spell.  He waved and turned away.  I ran into the house as fast as I could.

Sammy –
    I am writing another letter you may never read because I have no one to talk to – and I miss you!  With any luck you'll be here with me shortly so I can tell you all this in person!  Oh, hopefully we will get away soon, but, I need to write it because I feel as if I were going insane!
    This past week I've had trouble sleeping.  Ever since Adam left, dreams of Eve coming to murder me plague my sleep, plus my mind churns with thoughts of the unknown every time I wake.  As much as I fear the implications of Adam's presence – I can't help but feel safe when he's around.  My door is barred nightly with a chair, a typical trick we've seen on every TV show and movie, but my only recourse.  At least the noise of the chair being moved would alert me to an intruder, right?  Maybe I'm being paranoid because no one has come to the door, but you would be proud of me anyway.
    If I thought the nights were bad, the days are worse.  There is nothing to hold my interest whatsoever – and I feel utterly alone – I miss you!  It's not only that I feel alone in this house – I feel isolated from everyone on the whole planet!  I want to scream the truth, tell people – warn them . . . but warn them about what?  Adam and his militia don't seem to be poised for a mass invasion, and, the technology they have could benefit – am I using justifications?  For every tree cut down to build a new Walmart when there are several bankrupt Woolworths and empty stores in malls – its called progress – but is it really?  Will this technology save more lives, make us live longer, so there's more of a strain on resources?  Forget that paragraph Sam, I can't deal with the problems of the world when I can't deal with my own . . .
    Anyway, I felt that Salford Hall was extremely boring, Lisa turned out to be a stern old woman probably sixty-five years old, kind of chubby with (you guessed it) gray steel wool hair.  She reminds me of the stereotypical loyal English butler, all business with no friendliness, you know, 'yes ma'am' and all that.  She brings me meals on a tray, (the food is good), but she doesn't say anything she doesn't have to.  Her grayish eyes watch me with some type of purpose, not as if she were a guard, but, something else I can't figure out.  It gives me the shivers.
    There wasn't any sign of Eve or Rion for days, which was both good and bad – I was bored enough to even miss them.  Eve is afraid of Rion's feelings toward me so I figured he was being kept on a short leash somewhere safely out of my reach, that is, until I went for a walk yesterday.  Sammy, the day was one of those gorgeous near spring days, (your favorite), when the snow is melting and the sun reflects intensely on the little bit that's left on the ground . . . I decided to go check out the barn; we had so many memories there, remember?  It appeared nearly the same as it was, for as much work as they did on the house and grounds they left the barn alone.  I had to see the hay mow, just for old times sake, maybe I wanted to hurt myself with memories of Rion so I could at least feel something.  Would you believe the same hay is still there?  The configuration of bales is exactly as I remember them, although you've been there after me so you could probably be more of a judge.  Anyway, I walked around to the corner that used to be Rion's and mine, you know the place I mean, then I heard someone coming up the ladder so I hid behind a stack of bales . . .

        I stopped writing for a moment as the memory washed over me.  Even though it was only yesterday I felt as if it were a year ago.  The feeling of the hay bristling against my face as I cowered behind the bales was as apparent as the pen held in my hand, yet, why did it seem so far off?  Why was I afraid?  I asked myself.  Who knows, anyone could have been coming up that ladder with anything in mind.  Then again, I wasn't necessarily afraid of the person themselves, I think I was afraid of shattering the isolation I had unwillingly become used to.  The tension was broken slightly when I heard Rion call to me, it was his voice sounding sanguine that both set me on edge and reassured me.  I guess he must have seen me enter the barn.  It was at least a minute before I moved.  To face him here would mean facing the past – the present – and inescapably the future.  Yes, I could see him within my imagination as he was years ago, eyes bright with amusement, with visible love, and, as he would look when I stepped from behind my wall of hay . . . my legs moved, carrying my body with them, into a mutual full length view.  Shock struck me like a fist, surprising me, because once again I thought myself incapable of being shocked.
        "Rion – what happened to your face?"  Fading bruises and healing cuts sat dully on its surface.
        "Eve was angry."  I regretted calling him a wimp that night on the Moon.  He now appeared stronger than I had ever seen him – possibly stronger than anyone ever was.
        "She did that to you?"  I stepped forward but he didn't move.
        "Yes."  He seemed almost pleased about the contusions.
        "What the hell happened?"
        "I fought back."
        "But – what happened?"
        Rion shot forward with incredible speed; I noticed in the second before he reached me that he was limping.  He stopped just short of touching me and held up his right clenched fist, whispering, "There's hope Deia."
        My hands reached, without thought, first lowering his fist, then dismantling it, reducing it back to a flaccid piece of flesh.  In turn, he grasped my hand pushing my fingers together to form the fist I removed.
        He began.  "She came from seeing you - ranting about the threats you made with a statue.  Deia, I saw the truth . . ."
        "What?"
        "She can feel fear.  She screamed, blaming me, cursing you, it was wonderful!"  He pulled me down onto a bale, straddling it before me.  "Something inside me snapped, I told her to shut the fuck up, I didn't want to hear it.  Her face crumbled; it really crumbled; like the witch from the Wizard of Oz . . . it scared me for a split second, then I felt powerful or something . . ."  I had never seen his face seem so alive.
        "And then?"
        "You won't believe it – we had a fist fight.  I didn't care, after she punched me in the face I said fuck it and slammed her."  He was grinning as if he were talking about a victorious fight in the schoolyard against a dreaded bully.
        "So what's so great about a fist fight?  Your face looks like hell and I saw you limping."
        "Yeah, the bitch kicked me."  He reached for my hand and announced, "Did you ever hear that saying, if you think I look bad you should see the other person?"  I nodded.  "Well, let's just say Eve has some bruises of her own – but that's not what's important!  She gave in Deianira!  She can be beaten – I know now that we can be freed –"
        "Rion, there's something you don't know."  I didn't want to ruin his hopefulness, but it was more complicated than he knew.  "Adam –"
        "Yes, I know you came here with him; you've had to play along as I have . . ."  He grasped my other my hand which had been twisting the crystal ball ring.
        "That's true, but he –"
        "Once Eve detaches he won't bother you, especially after he finds that you love me –"  He kissed my hand.  "And only me.  I can tell that you do, its in your eyes . . . "
        The only thing that I was sure was in my eyes were minuscule shards of hay.  "Rion, he's the one in control.  You don't understand.  He manipulated Eve to go after you.  I'm afraid he'll never let go, and, I'm not sure what I can do about it."
        He stared at me, still holding my hand to his lips.  "How did you find this out?"
        "He told me himself.  If there's guilt to be placed, I guess you can absolve yourself and replace it . . ."  Our interlocked hands seemed to unconsciously grip each other tighter.   ". . . on Adam.  Blame and such aside, we shouldn't feel guilty about involving each other when it was Adam orchestrating events.  There are actions we should own, but I refuse to feel guilty!   Everything I've done and will do is the most logical option available to me."  His eyes grew wary after my last statement.  "He has Sammy as his prisoner."  Nothing more needed to be said.   He understood the implications.  I looked toward the ladder.  "He is dangerous Rion; we do have to be careful . . . I guess you were right about him."  I then looked back at him, softening what I had to say with a small but sincere smile.  "I will always love you Rion, I guess I can't help it . . . but – things have changed.  I just can't trust you –"
        "Can you trust Adam?"
        "No, but he has nothing to do with my trusting you -"
        He looked me dead in the eye.  "Yes, I do have to take responsibility for what I've done.  Would you believe me if I told you I wish I had never met Eve?"
        "Yes, but it wouldn't change the fact that you didn't only meet her but you slept with her – you married her –"
        "I know."  He crept closer.  "I never loved her like I love you – you can ask her."
        "I don't have to."  On the Moon I had asked myself what it meant to love – my answer was before me.  There was nothing to be put in words – or could be formed in language if I had wanted to.  It was an emotion – yet – an emotion tempered by intelligence – the rational knowledge that I wanted him not for the way he made me feel, but for the way I felt about him and the mutual benefit we could bring to each other.  Once again the blue of his eyes served as a magnet that drew every spec of attention I had.  Inescapably my arms went around his neck.  "Just kiss me –" and everything will be all right, I finished in my head.  The attraction was overpowering, at this moment I didn't care about the past or future, I just wanted him to touch me like I knew he could.  Our lips met with a savage intensity, tongues and all, but he broke away and pulled me to my feet.
        "I don't want just sex – you need to understand that.  I love you in such a way that if it comes to it – I'll kill Adam before he can have you –"  His eyes glinted like an assassin's.
        It would have complicated matters if I told him I had had those same thoughts, and was becoming sick of them.  "I don't want to think about it; just take your clothes off!"  I tried to kiss him again but his lips were unresponsive.
        "No, not like this – I can't."
        "Like what?"
        "Like thieves!  We deserve this Deia, we're not kids anymore having to sneak around . . ."
        "No, but sometimes you have to take what you can get and I need this."  The air was cold against my skin, but I could feel heat radiating from his body.
        He hugged me but I could tell he was torn.  "It shouldn't have to be this way."
        "But it is."  I was kissing his neck and could tell he would give in.
        He took my face and held it between his hands.  "It wouldn't bother you?  Not at all?"
        "Why should it?  We've been here before, many times, though the best was New Year's –"
        "Eve."  He finished, smiling.
        "Rion, you're the one giving them power over you."  I kissed his hand and was surprised at how smooth it was.  They used to be rough and calloused.
        "Maybe you're right . . . I do want to be with you –"
        "Of course I'm right – just concentrate on this moment.  We'll deal with the rest when it comes."  Then I kissed him again.
 

    I don't have to tell you that I always believed true love prevails and all that because I don't believe it will Sammy.  I can say we had a good time and I will admit to you – and only you – that I do love him intensely – I just don't know if I can forget the pain he caused me for whatever reasons.  But, there's no one, (I was going to say 'on Earth' but I guess that's an obsolete cliche now), that can make me feel as Rion does; I missed that.  If I must admit the truth I would add that I feel something when Adam touches me – though I wish I didn't.  There I go again, wishing for something in my power to control – and I will, anything I may have thought I felt for Adam can't be real.  I'm too logical (thankfully)!
    So, Rion and I are going to try to meet again to figure what the next step is.  I know he'll be upset because I will do anything to get you here – I think we both know what that means.
    One last thought, at least the orgasm has lifted the shroud of boredom for me!  Hopefully I'll see you soon!

        The letter folded neatly in my hand waiting to be tucked into its hiding place, which was beneath a corner of the carpet that wasn't tacked down.  The inane silence droned on, filling my ears with its monotonous hum.   I gradually became aware of a distinct feeling that I wasn't alone.  Slowly, I turned my head to find Lisa standing in the doorway watching me.
        "You startled me Lisa."  I stood quickly, facing her, she didn't move, her gray hair sat like a wounded bird perched on her head.  "Is there something I can do for you?"
        "You met him in the barn yesterday."  It wasn't an accusation, it was a non-judgmental statement.  Her face reminded me of Mount Rushmore, non-moving, stone.
        "You sure don't believe in small talk, do you?"  I sat on the edge of the bed trying to decide what I should answer.
        "I do not care what you do with him."  The way she said it I could tell she wasn't very fond of Rion and me.  "You should know, that if I saw the two of you go into the barn, the next time Eve may see you, or – Adam."  She stressed Adam's name with a particularly apprehensive tone.  "He has more important issues to concern himself with.  I do assume there will be a next time."
        "You should never assume anything.  But, thanks for warning me; that was nice of you."
        "Do not misinterpret, I did not tell you this to be nice."
        "Why did you then?"
        "To keep peace."
        "Wouldn't it be more peaceful if you told me to stay away from Rion, seeing that he's Eve's husband?"
        "I know it would do no good."
        "Why do you say that?"
        She crossed the room and stood before me with her hand outstretched.  "Look at my hand," she ordered.
        I looked.  "And, what am I supposed to see?"
        With a violent snap of her arm she jerked it back.  "Nothing."  She strode toward the dresser.  "Exactly what I see when he looks at Eve - or when you look at Adam."  She held a hand mirror in front of my face.  "This is what I see when you speak of him."  I assume she meant Rion.
        "Sorry, all I see is my face."
        "It is there and much more."  She slammed the mirror back down; I was surprised it didn't shatter.  "Christa saw more."  She pointed to the statue.  "Christa was intrigued when Adam came to her with his request."  She spoke of Christa with a sense of reverence and awe.  "It is for her that I warn you.  It is for her that I keep peace."
        "Who is this Christa?"
        "Christa is the closest thing to God that I know."
        "Lisa, are you an alien too?"  This was something I hadn't dared to ask her.
        "Yes.  What of it?"
        "Nothing, I just wondered.  Where can I find Christa?"
        "For what?"  She acted like a mother bear guarding her defenseless cub.
        "I'd like to meet her, ask her about the statue."  As well as collect information.
        "She knows you are here.  If she wants to meet you she will come."  She pointed at my face.  "Remember what I said child.  Lay him wherever you both can pull your pants down – but – it is in both our best interests to keep the peace.  Adam should not be sidetracked."  She lightly turned on the ball of her right foot and withdrew.
        I retrieved the letter to Sammy, adding:
 

P.S.  I think things are stranger than I thought Sam, this artist woman has some sort of power – and that's what we need right now.  Don't worry – I'll find her!

        A new hiding place needed to be found; my letters weren't necessarily state secrets but they were mine and I didn't know how long Lisa stood there before I noticed.  The left end table had a gap just wide enough for the couple letters – good enough until I wrote more.

        I started with the phone book, feeling like an idiot when I realized I didn't know Christa's last name.  Index's phone book was relatively small compared with city directories but I didn't have the patients to go through it name by name, if it was in there at all.  Gossip seemed to be the easiest, and safest, way to locate her, depending on who I asked and that meant a trip to town.
        While changing from hiking boots to my comfortable sneakers, I thought about who to ask.  My options were few and I knew who the best bet was – Mollie.  If she wasn't working, she would probably be home and she only lived two streets away from Ern's.
        Adam's battered Porsche waited innocently next to a red and white Ford Bronco and a tan Maxima.  It seemed like a bold move on my part, just strolling up to the Porsche, seeing the keys in the ignition, just opening the door and then roaring down the driveway.  I left a note, though I wasn't sure who it should be addressed to so I left that part blank.  The note read:  'I've gone to town – will return shortly - D.'  I taped it to my bedroom door.
        The car seemed to purr as I cruised along, jerking very slightly as I got used to shifting again.  I thought back to my first car, a grubby Datsun B 210.  My mother had asked me where I learned to drive a standard shift, I remember making up some story about Rion teaching me because I hadn't ever driven a standard, yet I wanted this particular car.  It was the only car I could afford and I figured it couldn't be that hard, plus, I knew the basic premise of driving a standard.  Put the clutch in, car in first gear, slowly let the clutch out while giving it gas, then shift to second, etcetera.  It wasn't as easy as I had thought, although I did make it out of the driveway in reverse without stalling.  Ma never saw the shakes and jerks the little car made while I learned to drive it and as far as I knew she never found out that I lied.  The air seemed to hum through a minuscule hole in the rag top over the passenger seat, it looked as if someone tried to patch it with that wonderful cure all, Duct tape.  Sammy carried a roll of the aluminum gray colored tape with her wherever she went, coming in handy quite a few times.  Yes, I'd bet it was the stickiest substance on Earth, that and the red goo on candy apples.  Get either in your hair and you might as well break out the scissors then and there.  This Porsche had five – or maybe ten times the power of my little Datsun and I found myself fighting to keep the car under the speed limit, especially on Copps flats, a ten mile long straight-away famous for the location of many teen races.  We were stupid then, I thought as I realized for the first time just how narrow the road really was.  It was mere luck that no one ever had a head on collision, then again, this road never seemed all that busy.  Busy or not, it only takes two cars for a collision and I was perfectly content to be on the appropriate side of the road.
        Salford Hall was a good twenty-five miles from Index but it felt like a short hop in this car.  The dents and scratches sure didn't hamper its performance, I coasted into the outskirts of town in record time, I had lost the fight with the speed limit, only slowing now entering residential streets.  Well, the streets looked the same, though with less snow since my last time here.  I was torn because it felt as if I never left but at the same time it felt as if I had been gone for years.  The car seemed to drive instinctively toward The Stop and Drop, and involuntary tears sprung up when I saw it, seeing the slightly shabby aluminum siding and peeling sign made me realize nothing would ever be the same again.  I stopped with a small squeal of tires trying to push the tears back – I didn't have time for this.  Also, I couldn't let Mollie see me upset because I knew she would try to hammer me until she pounded out an explanation and that wouldn't be good for anybody.  The odds were she would believe me, but her knowledge wouldn't be a benefit to either of us, so, I would have to appear as I told Adam, returning from a vacation to resume my life in Index – with him.  It would be difficult to omit this fact seeing that I was gallivanting about in his car.  I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done none the less.
        It was like stepping into a time warp when I opened the door.  The subtle smell of grease was much more familiar than the sight of the dining room, even though it seemed that nothing had changed.  A few people sat at the counter, `regulars', good old Doke was sipping coffee sitting hunched up as he always had every time I saw him, his logging partner, Jack, intent on explaining some fact.  How many times had I listened to their afternoon conversations?  It seemed like I never left - Wanda sat in her customary booth in the corner crocheting some sort of blanket – I wondered where the scarf she made for me ended up.  My eyes gravitated toward Ernie as he emerged from the kitchen, his eyes perceptibly lighting up when he saw me.
        He strode up, hauling me down onto a stool.  "Deia!  Where've you been?"
        "Vacation . . ."  I mumbled.  He seemed way too happy to see me in comparison to the way he treated me when he gave me the boot.
        "Weren't you and Sammy moving to Florida?"
        "Yeah, but there's been a change of plans . . . is Mol –"
        "I hoped you wouldn't leave without saying goodbye – I – regret that incident –"
        "Yeah, well, so do I.  I'm looking for Mollie."
        His eyes were focused on something out the window.  He didn't look at me when he spoke.  "That's Adam Mann's car your driving."
        "So it is."
        "How'd that come about?"  He was using his `National Enquirer' tone, hoping to elicit some juicy tale to pass on to his customers.  Food wasn't the only sustenance found at Ern's – lonely people came to get their fix of vicarious action.
        "Let's just say it's a long story, and I haven't the time to get into it.  Is Mollie here or not?"  An impatient attitude was evident.
        "She's home with the flu or something."  I could tell he wasn't going to let the Adam issue alone so I stood up.  "Deia, have you seen Rion lately?"  He seemed hungry for news of a manag-a-twa and as much as I would have liked to concoct some story to bug his eyes out I knew it would be better not to.
        "Thanks Ernie, I'll catch her at home.  See ya."
        I saw him deep in conference with Doke and Jack, with Neena, the other waitress he hired, hovering close by getting all the details.  I chirped the tires as I started out, why not give them a show.  If they only knew the truth . . .
        Mollie's apartment was three minutes away, I had only been there once before on a night when she had a terribly boring Tupperware party.  After that torturous ordeal I begged off on every other 'party' invitation.  Mollie was one of those women, if she wasn't foisting Tupperware on you it was cheap toys or cleaning products – even lingerie.  She answered my knock wearing a shocking pink bathrobe, pockets equipped for sickness, I spied tissues, Nyquil, a bag of cough drops and a paperback bulging from her pockets.  She almost dropped the steaming cup she held when she saw it was I.
        "Child!  Lookie here – I'd kiss you but I don't want to make you sick!"  Her voice was scratchy and low.
        "Don't you dare get me sick!"  I smiled, moving past her and closing the door behind me.
        "I knew you wouldn't leave without seeing me.  That's what I told that bum Ernie you wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."
        "You're right Mol."  She had always reminded me of my mother, though much more easy going due to the fact that she wasn't my mother.
        "Sit."  She commanded, as she settled herself on the couch beneath a blanket characteristically crocheted by Wanda.  "Tell me where you've been, and," her eyes bore into mine, "tell me what in the hell you're doing driving that maniac's car."
        "I've been on vacation . . . Sammy and I changed our minds about moving –"
        "Why?"
        "It's complicated . . . we just don't want to leave –"
        "And?"
        "And I've been seeing Adam Mann."
        She looked at me sideways.  "What the hell for?"
        I knew I had to be careful.  "What do you mean, 'what the hell for'?"
        "After what his sister pulled I can't see you shacking up with him."
        "He's not Eve, Mollie."
        "No – he's worse."
        "And – I'm not necessarily shacking up with him -"
        "Oh?"
        "Why do you say that?  That he's worse than Eve?"  She had me curious.
        "I can tell that boy's no good."
        "Why?"
        She had a patient look about her.  "I can just tell.  What's the matter with you questioning me like this?  You know I can tell things about people."
        It seemed that she could, not that I thought she was psychic or anything, but she did seem extremely perceptive.  "You're just biased that's all.  You like Rion too much."
        "I'm not the only one in this room.  You've seen him lately haven't you?"  I caught myself before I visibly squirmed.
        "Yeah – I've seen him."  I forced my face into a harsh mask.  "He's a married man."  It wasn't as hard if I thought back to the pain.
        She blew her nose.  "That's one action I'll never understand, him marrying that snobby girl . . ."  She wiped at her eyes as well.  "You still haven't explained what you're doing with Adam."
        "I didn't come here to talk about Adam.  I need a favor."
        "What?"
        "Have you heard of someone by the name of Christa?"  She looked at me steadily, but I could swear there was a flicker of acknowledgment.  "She's an artist of some sort, you should see this statue she did of me –"
        "What do you want with her?"  Her voice was intense and guarded.  What is this, a fucking conspiracy?
        "I want to meet her, talk to her about the statue, why, what's wrong?"
        She appeared slightly uneasy.  "I can't really say child.  There's something not quite right with her –"
        "Oh – come on Mollie!  Aren't you exaggerating?  It always seems that you're creating intrigue where there isn't any – this isn't some spy novel –"
        She paused before she answered me.  "I don't know why you're trying to persuade me that I don't know what I feel –"  My heart jumped into my throat – I felt as if I'd been caught, doing what I wasn't sure, lying at least, though much more.  "You must have your reasons and I respect you for them because you are a smart child, but I can't help but worry about you."  She swung her legs out from under the afghan.  "Your mother and I were passing acquaintances and I could tell she was proud of both her girls, you especially.  When she died I didn't assign myself to take her place, no, there's no way I could do that, but, I always felt protective of you ever since you came to work with me and I just felt extra protectively, so to speak.  Now I know you're lying to me –"
        "Mol –"
        She held her hand up with enough force to silence me, her premature varicose veins pumping under the skin.  "I also know you wouldn't lie unless you had to, so I won't ask why."  I let out an audible sigh of relief.  It was in this very moment that I realized the extent of my respect for her.  "Christa has never been in the diner, if I'm not mistaken she doesn't go out in public at all.  She does walk down by the river, on those trails, though I don't know why she goes to such trouble tramping through the snow, though it's not so bad now seeing that the weather's been warmer –"  Her eyes gazed blindly toward her blank television.  "I met her a couple times when I was out getting some air . . . she's a strange one, she is, friendly and such – yet –" her face grew cold and ghost like.  "I can sense things about everybody I've ever come in contact with – everyone – but not her.  It's as if she were dead."
        I waited a moment before I spoke, breaking the hush of a lone clock ticking.  "Where can I find her?"
        "She has a house on Maxon Road.  It won't be hard to find, she has a huge iron spider hanging from its web on her front lawn, some might call it art but it doesn't appeal much to me."  She wiggled her feet inside her oversized slippers.  "I don't sense malice or evil about her – not like I do with Adam Mann – but that doesn't mean it's not there.  That woman can look clear through guts and bone – straight into your soul – if you've got one."  She calmly instructed, "I want a promise, child."
        "A promise of what?"
        Mollie stared at me through bloodshot eyes.  "Never mind, I know better."
        Even though I was curious I let it go figuring I had more important issues at hand.  "I better go."  Reluctantly, I rose, desperately wanting to leave, yet seemingly chained to the homey living-room.  "I – I'm not sure how much time I have – and – I swear to you that I will explain everything – someday . . ."  I was backing toward the door.
        "Of course you will child."
        The last image I had was of Mollie blowing her nose again, vainly attempting to conceal the tears that rolled from her eyes.  Why was she crying?  It wasn't until I reached the car that I realized the reason for my blurry vision – I violently wiped the unwarranted tears away and continued my quest.

        Checking the gas gage just to make sure I wasn't going to get stranded was my first priority.  I didn't have a dollar to my name and I wanted to make it back to Salford.  The car was better on gas than I thought.  The needle hadn't moved, providing the gage worked at all.  I guess you never know when you're borrowing a vehicle.  Maxon Road was on the far side of town and it felt pretty uplifting to pass Cushman's bakery and not cry – or curse.  No matter what happens in the long run at least I felt as if I were finally getting over the pain of Rion and Eve's relationship.  Then again, having the knowledge that he wanted me back was probably masking the pain.  The sight of Cushman's reminded me to make a mental note of asking Adam what he did with mine and Sammy's things.  Was our apartment still intact with the rent past due?  I would have swung by to check it out but I wanted to get to Christa.  Why, I wasn't so sure.  Maybe I was the one creating intrigue where there wasn't any.
        I wasn't even half way across town when I heard the scream of a siren.  Looking in the rear view mirror, I discovered a local cop behind me.  I immediately pulled over wondering what I did wrong.  Maybe I ran a stop sign at one of those needless four way stops.   There was so much on my mind I hadn't really been paying attention.  Shit!  I didn't have my license, or any ID at all.  Plus, this is Adam's car – what if the registration or insurance wasn't up to date?  Damn, I had the feeling I was screwed as I rummaged through the glove compartment, looking for pertinent documents.  The driver's door opened.  Surprised, I stopped pawing around and looked across.
        "Slide over."  Adam commanded with an easy going tone that none the less impelled me to move, which was easier said than done.  Sliding wasn't the word I would use for my movement, the gear shift hampered the change of seats.  And, there isn't exactly an abundance of room in the front seat of a 968 Porsche, but I was able to wiggle and squirm my way into the passenger seat.
        My heart was pounding.  "Hello Adam, when did you get back?"
        "A few minutes ago."  He waved to the cop as we made a U-turn.  I noticed it was Ray or Randy Meyers, I forget which.  It wasn't a good sign to see Adam so chummy with the police.
        He didn't say anything else so I rushed ahead, readying to defend myself.  "You never told me I had to stay at Salford."
        "No, I never did."
        "So – you better not be pissed at me for coming to town –"
        He looked at me.  "Do I seem pissed?"
        "No."
        "Okay then.  Where did you go?"
        I answered right away.  "I visited Mollie, the waitress I used to work with."
        "Okay.  Was it a nice visit?"
        "Yes and no, she's sick."
        "Did she miss you while you were gone?"
        "Yes.  I told her what I told you I would tell people."
        "Did she believe you?"
        It was a minute before I answered.  "Not really."
        "I see.  So what did you tell her?"
        "I didn't tell her anything because she didn't ask, and, I know better."  He nodded his head slightly.  "So how was your trip?"
        He didn't answer for a moment, then mumbled, "What needed to be done was accomplished."  There was a note of sadness in his voice.
        I looked out the window, noticing we drove past the turn to Salford Hall.  "Where are we going?"
        He didn't answer, asking instead, "Where are they?"
        "Where are who?"
        He pulled over to the side of the road, casually pulling up on the parking brake.  "They disappeared sometime this afternoon."
        "Who disappeared?"
        Adam  smiled.  "Samantha and a girl named Gina."
        It was too late to halt the wide smile that broke through on my face as well as in my voice.  "They did?"
        "Yes, they did."  He sounded amused though I had no idea why he would be.  We began driving again.  "What, if any role did you play in this disappearance?"
        Cautiously I told him, "You can't seriously think I could've been involved – what the hell – I'm not fucking magic."
        "I just thought I would ask.  It did not make any sense, I know, you being here and my being on the Moon . . ."
        I was beginning to recognize my surroundings and I wasn't very happy about it.  "Adam – you're not taking me back there."
        "Yes, I am.  Until Samantha and Gina are located you are returning to Reflection."
        "No!"  The cry sounded like a dog being hit by a speeding car.  "Adam – please – I don't – want to be jailed again –"
        He wouldn't look at me.  "I have no other choice."
        "Look – if you love me you won't do this!"  Desperation dripped from these words and I hated their helpless tone.
        "It is my love for you that is dictating this act.  I will not lose you."  He pounded his hand on the steering wheel making me cringe.
        Logic, I needed to be logical.  "Come on, how will you lose me?  They're only two young girls.  It's not as if they're commandos or something –"
        "If the roles were reversed and Sammy were the one in your position, can you honestly say that you would not do anything to free her?"
        "No, I can't honestly say that."  It wasn't very difficult to envision Sammy bursting into Salford Hall with an AK 47, spraying bullets every which way with my liberation in mind; I knew I'd do it for her.
        "So you see my position."
        Yes, I saw his position but it didn't make it any easier to take.  What was the aversion to returning to Reflection?  Easy, it was jail . . . loneliness . . . and a leap backward . . . not to mention - Rion.  I suddenly knew if I left Earth I would never see Rion again and that was unacceptable.  What I did next was one of the most illogical actions I had ever performed but I don't think I thought about it – I just acted.  I jerked the door open and threw myself out onto the roadside, barely having enough time to shield my face from the pebbles that seemed to rush up toward my eyes.

        Adam was screaming.  "You fucking idiot!  I was going at least 45 miles an hour – you fool!"  He was smoothing my hair away from my forehead, obviously stunned.  "Okay . . . okay . . ." he kept repeating.  "Blink if you can understand me."  I wouldn't have blinked except he sounded so distraught that I couldn't help it.  "All right, that is a good sign, but, I cannot move you – damn it!  I must leave to get help.  If you have serious injuries I could make them worse . . ."  I heard dense irritation in his voice.  "Of all the times not to have my cellular phone with me!"  He pulled his light jacket off and gently covered me with it.  Leaning forward, he rested his lips on my cheek, whispering, "Why?  Damn you – why?"  Then, barely audible, "I am sorry . . ."  He ran toward the car, parked askew on the shoulder 50 yards away.  My eyes strained as they watched him disappear from their range.  It sent little silver sparkles through my line of vision.  "I will not be long . . . and I . . . just hold on!"  He called over his shoulder.  Whew – I had never seen him so freaked.  He sped away.
        Alone, I could now ascertain my injuries.  My left arm was pinned beneath my body, yelping and burning terribly.  Both legs seemed intact, thankfully, I used them to roll myself off my arm.  Bad move – I felt vicious stabbing pain shoot through my shoulder, though the arm itself seemed kind of distant.  A fact I found a bit worrisome.  My head was pulled down by an invisible magnet anchored somewhere in China.  Every time I attempted to lift my head a hazy, gray foot stepped down on my forehead slamming pebbles into the back of my skull.
        "Deianira!"
        I heard my name called softly next to my ear and tried extremely hard to smile, though failing.  It was Sammy.
        "Dee Dee, I want you to dance with me!"
        She hadn't called me Dee Dee since we were kids and she knew I wasn't enthusiastic when it came to dancing.  I tried to answer her but all I heard was something that sounded like "brrrrr", which translated to 'You're fucking crazy'.
        She must have understood because she told me, "It's okay Dee Dee, you don't have to dance now, just rest – let the statue dance for you."
        My eyes closed, envisioning Christa's bronze statue seductively dancing an intricate folk dance.  Then I saw my face winking at myself and felt happy for the first time in at least a year.
        If I'm so happy why am I crying?  I asked of myself, the statue.
        I just beckoned toward myself to follow and complied, ceasing to think at all.

        Reality seemed to melt and I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't, and the difference between the two seemed irrelevant.  Occasionally an image of a person would seem to surface like bubbles from the depth of a pool, but no one was recognizable and the images faded fast.  Comfort was the underlying emotion I felt, a warm and silky feeling enhanced by the darkness that never disappeared.  Time, what was time?  A lulling sense of calm, or a perpetual smile is the way to describe my time, and infinity as well.  I never would have questioned this peacefulness if it wasn't for my conversations with Heracles.
        He began speaking to me, I can't say when exactly.  He whispered at first, as if not to frighten me, because I had no idea who he was.  It was through his conversations that I was reminded of who I was and not some unidentifiable spec of ectoplasm.  My name is Deianira Behan and I wasn't going to be allowed to escape opening my eyes and resuming the fight.  The fight he spoke of seemed very important but I wasn't so sure at times.  Especially when blurry images seemed to float in front of my eyes like the television images as large as the wall in Reflection.  Reflection?  What an odd name – he didn't name the buildings though . . . who didn't?  Adam.  The guy with the composed smile, the extremely soft lips . . . wait, which guy?  The one you need to fight, in more ways than one . . . will he hurt me?  Maybe . . . can you fight the fact that the sky is blue?  No, it just is, and, I like the color of the sky . . . you do don't you . . .
        Occasionally Heracles seemed more apparent than others.  Sometimes I felt his breath on my neck.  I knew he was trying to comfort me, attempting to take my pain upon his shoulders as Atlas held the world, but at this I definitely refused.  The pain was mine and mine alone to bear – it was an insult to have him seek to wrest it from me.  He of all people must know that I'm tough.  Pain was a mere aspect of reality, no more or less important than any other characteristic.
        I never actually saw Heracles.  He never exposed himself to my sight, and the darkness was so complete I knew I couldn't have seen him anyway.  Eventually I knew there wasn't anything tangible to see because he existed within my mind, which was trapped inside an injured and immobile body.
        Familiar sounds began to filter through the darkness, drowning out Heracles' voice.  The most consistent sound was Adam's voice reading to me from either our Evolutionary Psychology textbook or The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.  (He even acted the character's voices out in a mock English accent).  Sometimes he cried.  I could hear him sob quietly in the silence, assured that we were alone and positive that he knew not my ability to hear his grief.  Days and nights began to take shape due to the routine that I physically felt.  On the morning of the moment I felt a strange hand washing my pubic area I opened my eyes and shocked the hell out of the nurse by telling her I would like to wash myself.
        It was explained that I was comatose for six days, although it seemed a year if a day went by.  I had some kind of concussion, with no permanent brain damage though.  The doctors figured a large part of the coma was reactionary to the trauma of bouncing down the road at forty some miles per hour.  My left forearm was broken and in a cast.  I was told I now wouldn't be able to pass through a metal detector without setting it off.  A shiny metal plate was screwed into the bones to strengthen the point of breakage.  Other than that I should consider myself lucky.  Except for a few facial lacerations, (which no doubt would scar), I was relatively intact.  At this point I didn't care if they did scar.  Jumping from the car was stupid, yes, but spontaneous.  I felt fortunate that my injuries were fairly minor.
        The fluorescent lighting was more surreal to me than the complete darkness of my unconsciousness, though my eyes couldn't get enough of their literal surroundings no matter what the illumination was.  Would I do the same thing if faced with going back in time?  That question was unanswerable.
        The first time I saw Adam I realized he was one of the people whose images tauntingly surfaced then disappeared, but it was no wonder that I didn't recognize him.  Basically he looked like shit.  His eyes were sunken sockets of despair, his cheeks were skeletal and scraggly with an uneven beard.  Adam's personal appearance had always been meticulously groomed, in a casual seeming way, but now he could pass as a stereotypical bum.  His hair was flattened close to his head on the left, while dull droopy curls dangled from the right.  Adam's clothing was definitely uncharacteristic.  His shapeless gray sweatshirt hung off to the left, with an obvious stain of some sort smack dab in the center.  Even his jeans appeared as if he had worn them for days.
        When he first walked into the room I don't think he was aware of my return to the living, so to speak.  His shoulders sagged and his eyes searched the floor with indifference.  My voice was dry sounding, probably because no liquid had been swallowed in a week.  A tube that went up my nose then down my throat was how I was being 'fed'.  I literally croaked like a frog when I tried to mutter "Adam".  He stopped in his tracks, right foot in mid-air, head gradually rising up to look at my face.  His eyes seemed to change colors before me, as if a match had been struck inside his scull.  He stood still as a mannequin, and I wasn't sure if he held his breath or not but he appeared to.  He seemed as if he didn't want to approach me, that he might frighten me back into unconsciousness.  I tried again to speak, squeezing out a weak, "Hi."
        He practically tiptoed up to the bed, whispering, "Are you really awake?"
        I cautiously nodded my head.
        "When did you wake up?"
        "It hasn't been an hour yet.  You know, you don't have to keep whispering Adam, my ears don't hurt."  Though my voice was barely a whisper because of a pain in my chest when I took a deep breath.  Sternal bruising I supposed.  "You look bloody awful."  I mimicked the accent he used while reading.
        "Do I?"  He was so intent on my face that he seemed to overlook the fact I heard him through my coma.  "I have been here as much as I could –"
        "I know."
        "Well then."  He seemed speechless.  "You are the most fragile thing I have ever seen –"
        "I'm hardly fragile!"  My voice sounded slightly more like it should.
        "Yes you are – but not for long I am sure."  He looked both ecstatic and heartbroken at the same time.  "This could have been avoided."
        "Yeah, well -"
        He sounded sternly reproachful.  "How could you practically hurl your life away like that?"
        "It's not as if I knew the outcome – I really didn't think about it.  I just couldn't leave . . ."
        He pulled a chair up next to the bed, easily holding my arm above the place where the IV was situated in the back of my hand.  "This is going to sound selfish – but do you have any idea what you put me through?"
        "Yes, I think I do."  In the distant recesses of my mind I faintly heard, "What about what he did to you?"  I dismissed the voice.  It was easier that way.
        Adam traced the path of tape scum that was liberally spread over my arm.  "I could not help but blame myself."
        "Come on, I'm the one who jumped –"
        "I know, but I felt like a murderer when I ran up beside you lying there like a crumpled road kill –"
        I laughed but it hurt.
        "Do you remember the ambulance arriving?"  I shook my head no.  "Your arm was bleeding where the bone broke through . . ."  He began pacing with a violence that would have made me nervous in the past yet only saddened me now.  He recounted the scene with gory detail, filling me in on the particulars that my mind had blocked out, such as the paramedics having to cut my clothes off before they loaded me onto the stretcher.  Great.  He said the doctors told him they weren't sure of the extent of my injuries, that is, they couldn't be sure until I woke up.
        "Did anyone else come to see me?"  I tried to act innocently, though both of us knew who I was referring to.  With Sammy missing there was only one other significant person from my past.
        "Rion does not know you are here.  In fact, no one knows this happened to you."
        "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
        "Many reasons, foremost being it is no one else's business."  He leaned up against the wall.  "Also, I still have no idea where your sister is and I knew you would be upset if she found out in a disconcerting way –"
        "But, you could have used this to trap her!"
        "I know."
        "Why didn't you?"
        "Because I want you to see the extent of my love for you.  Not in words, not by force, but in deeds."
        Heracles whispered, "Fight what you feel!"  But it wasn't that easy.  Adam stood emotionally naked before me, seemingly drained of schemes and power brokering.  He was actually mandating power to me, bowing before his emotions without resistance.  I couldn't help but think he was beautiful and a tear fought its way out of the corner of my eye.
        "Adam – you love me with an intensity that I'm not sure I can equal!"  His eyes were wary and I knew in this respect I was the one that had him trapped.  "It takes time to love in that way, for me at least, but I won't deny that there's something about you –"
        He looked relieved.  "That is sufficient for now.  I know that I cannot expect more yet –"  He crossed back to the bedside chair.  "Give me the chance I deserve – please –"
        Was that a crime?  I was confused and tired but lucid.  I faintly heard, Rion, in my mind, but Rion seemed two dimensional for some reason.  He seemed phantom like, while Adam seemed substantial.  "Can you promise me that you'll never hurt me?"
        His eyes searched mine with a pleading gaze before he responded.  "The most I can honestly do is promise to try not to."
        Good answer, much stronger than an empty vow.  "I might be able to love you someday . . ."  I mumbled, feeling my eyes close from exhaustion.
        "You will."  I heard the confidence in his tone.  "But first you must be healthy again.  I will take you to the best clinic there is; once you can safely travel."

        The next month was a blur.  The clinic, Ceñir El Viento, (To Sail Close to the Wind), was more like a vacation resort than a hospital facility.  It had a sun-deck, hot tubs and all those other luxuries they put in movies that you never thought were real.  I wondered where Adam got his money because this was obviously expensive.  The answer I received was, 'You do not want to know.'  I didn't push him because I really didn't care.  Although I did think back to my conversation with Rion in the house of conduits.  Adam may very well be involved in the Mafia.
        My days were jammed with activity.  Physical therapy in the morning, which was mostly a therapist stretching my left shoulder because it had gotten a little tight after the surgery.  Marcia, my therapist, told me, 'you've lost range'.  After the stretching it was time for hot packs to keep the muscles loose or something.  Then I had to jog, since I couldn't go in the pool because I still had the cast on my arm.  Adam and I ate lunch together every afternoon.  He would surprise me with different cuisine.  He soon learned that I couldn't eat peppers and onions, and hated spicy food.  After lunch I lifted weights as best as I could.  My arm didn't bother me at all so I could effectively work my biceps, triceps, lats, pecks and back – just not the left forearm.  A careful shower was next in the weekday routine, with a plastic bag wrapped around the cast.  Still, it was a pain in the ass trying to wash my long hair with one hand.
        It would seem that Adam would be bored as I though my regime of physical therapy kept me quite busy most of the time, exhausting me by nightfall, but he acted content, conversing on a cellular phone many times each day.  At times the conversations grew heated and his face turned red and he left the room.  He never told me who he spoke with.
        A week after arriving, Adam told me he had a surprise for me.  On my bed sat a bouncy yellow lab pup.
        "But Adam,"  I had asked him, "how can we have a dog here?  I'm sure it's not allowed."
        He produced a tennis ball from behind his back and the puppy's eyes lit up like a child who ran into a room heaped full of gifts at Christmas time.  "Anything is allowed, my dear Deianira, if you know the right people."
        It was up to me to name the puppy, but I was having a hard time trying to think of a unique and fitting name.  After two days I had decided.  Her name would be Prozac because she needed drugs to calm her down.  She jogged with me, if you can call it jogging, more like tripping.  She was constantly under my feet.  I was delighted to have her around.  She was something safe to love who loved me without questions – and without expectations.  The memory of my rendezvous with Rion seemed like a pleasant dream, not quite real yet realistic.  Did he wonder where I went?  What did Adam tell them – if anything?
        I thought of Sammy often, sometimes with more worry than others.  Adam still couldn't find them.  As far as I knew she and Gina were living somewhere in the world, depending on which conduit they came through, though I hoped it was somewhere safe.  Nightmares were the place that I did worry.  Horrific images of Sammy and Gina emerging into a foreign country with no knowledge of the language or customs, then jailed or taken advantage of, had me waking in a cold sweat.  In a way I hoped Adam would find them, just so I knew for sure they were safe.  But, Sammy wouldn't stay away forever.  I knew she would emerge when she was able, or at the very least contact me.
        Humm, now that I thought about it I began to wonder.  I didn't know where I was, exactly.  I knew it was southernish because it was warm for springtime and there were several Spanish sounding references besides the name of the clinic.  The complex of buildings rested at the foot of some mountain but there weren't any houses or towns that the eye could see, just roads leading to them.  Roads with names such as Creo Que Va á Llover (I Look for Rain) and Traer Buena Suerte (To Bring Luck).  I asked Adam if the person who named the buildings on the Moon had anything to do with these names but he said no, it was coincidental.  The terrain was a mix of scrubby ground cover plants and a few trees – definitely desert like but I still couldn't be sure where we were.  Maybe Sammy was looking for me in Index.  She may have contacted Rion – they both could be looking for me together.  I wasn't necessarily unhappy here with Adam, in fact, I was enjoying myself.  It felt like the vacation I had lied about taking.  Still, I longed to be reunited with Rion and Sammy, not as things were before, but different, hopefully better.
        Today was Thursday, the day Marcia had a dentist appointment, so I didn't have therapy in the morning.  Sleeping in, then lying around the pool were my intentions, after a leisurely walk with Prozac.  I moved around the room, straitening up, thinking this reminds me more of a really fancy motel efficiency unit than a hospital room.  A queen sized Soma water bed was perched on thick bubble gum colored carpet.  The color scheme of the rooms seemed to be the only break from the south-western motif prevalent here.  A lovely pine bureau held a combined twenty-five-inch television, VCR as well as drawers for tons of clothes.  I definitely appreciated the TV size in comparison to the five inch screen that I watched in the New York hospital.  Actually, I watched very little television, but when I did I wanted to enjoy it.
        On my way in to take a shower I heard Adam's familiar tap on the door.  He came in inordinately high spirited.  I detected happiness about something, so I asked him why he seemed to be in such a good mood.
        "I have news from home."  He held a small brown package in his hand.  "Eve is pregnant."
        The room felt as if it trembled from a small earthquake, though I knew the tremor was introspective.  The lace curtains my eyes had focused on remained inert.  I stared at Adam unflinchingly, through a wave of nausea.  "Pregnant?"
        "Yes, the enzyme problem seems to have been rectified according to Eve's letter."  He brought forward the package which turned out to be a brown postal envelope.  "She sent this video.  Would you like to watch it with me?"
        "Sure."  I replied, wondering how Eve got pregnant when the last time I saw Rion the farthest thing I could imagine him doing was having sex with her.  The television emitted the roar of white noise when turned on, matching the uproar within my mind.  Though instead of small gray and silver boxes smashing into each other creating a screen of chaos, past images of Rion and I broke apart and melted.  There was the day we moved into our first apartment together, our first kiss – our hundredth kiss – all our firsts and lasts.  I never got over the fact that Rion married Eve in the first place.  I knew that now.  The point is – could it ever be forgotten – the loss, the betrayal – the rejection?
        "I should warn you Deianira," Adam inserted the tape into the VCR.  "I have no idea what is on this tape.  It may be difficult to watch.  I do not know what you feel for Rion now, but I know you loved him very much in the past . . ."
        The VCR heads engaged the tape and I found myself slightly startled at how vividly beautiful Salford Hall appeared.  Spring flowers and luminously green grass made me yearn for New York.  The camera slowly panned around the grounds, stopping occasionally on a clump of flowers or some lawn ornament.  Suddenly two figures came racing past the lens and if I hadn't been sitting on the bed my knees probably would have buckled.  Rion was chasing Eve with a youthful exuberance I hadn't seen him display in a few years.  She ran barely ahead of him while he strained to reach her, from not having quite enough speed or failing to anticipate a sudden lunge to the left or right.  He finally caught up with her, holding Eve against his chest with her legs up off the ground, drawling into the camera, "I'm going to be a Dad!  Can you believe it?"  No, I couldn't believe it.  I felt as if I were being betrayed all over again.  Thoughts of, 'how could he'?  Filled my mind but didn't overflow even to facial expressions because I knew Adam was watching me.  I really wanted to cry.  Even if it had been Sammy here with me, and Sammy alone, I wouldn't have let my emotions show.  I was so angry with myself.  How could I have believed Rion again, only to have him hurt me a second time?  It didn't make any sense.  Then again, his initial involvement with Eve seemed senseless and out of the blue as well.
        "They seem happy, do they not?"  Adam's voice was quietly bitter, while mine was toneless.
        "They do."
        We silently watched the tape.  It only lasted a few minutes.  I was seething inside, comparing this performance to Rion's bruised face and hopes to escape of a month ago.  What happened in such a short time to make him change so drastically?  Did he think of me at all?  Did he wonder what my reaction would be?
        "You look pallid Deianira."
        "I feel pallid.  I guess I'm surprised."
        "So am I."  He ejected the tape and slipped it back into its envelope.  "Are you almost ready for our walk?"
        "Yes, let me take a shower and dress.  I'll meet you out front in an hour."
        "Fine."  He left without another word seeming to know that I wanted to be alone.
        I went through the motions of readying for our walk, all the while the images of Rion and Eve's playful romp hanging before my eyes.  Everywhere I looked I could see them, as though I were watching through a transparency. Alone again, was the phrase that kept running through my mind, though I knew deep down I had always been alone.  It was in a freshman mythology class where I first read Euripides' ancient Greek tragedy, Hippolytus.  Aphrodite was aggravated with Hippolytus' lack of interest in physical love so she curses him, making his step-mother Phaedra fall in love with him.  Boy, that's the stuff that modern soaps were made of, well, without a goddess to blame for irreconcilable human emotions.  There was a particular passage sung by the chorus that I never forgot and now it lingered in my mind playing continuously.  I stared into the mirror behind the dresser and watched my lips move as I softly spoke these words:

        Was I cursed?  I violently turned away from the mirror throwing my hairbrush against the wall.  Are we all cursed to always be hurt time after time in the name of love?  Isn't there some way to make it stop, squelch the prelude of feelings before they develop?  If only to avoid the eventual stabbing agony?  Heracles – you can take this pain from me – I give it freely as something I have no inclination nor interest in bearing.  What of my feelings toward Adam?  No matter how I've fought I couldn't stop feelings from forming, and, as soon as seeing the tape I took comfort from the fact that I had Adam here with me!  It's utterly ridiculous; Adam and Rion aren't interchangeable!  Why is it that I'm drawn closer to Adam because of Rion's rejection?  If I were smart I would avoid any involvement but I knew it was too late – and eventually the ax would fall.
        It was enough to make me want to cry – again.

        "When are we going back to New York, Adam?"  Prozac and I rested in the shade of a canvas overhang after a vigorous play session.  Since there weren't many trees these tent like structures were scattered everywhere.
        "Probably after those bags disappear from under your eyes.  Once you can think of Rion without crying, then you will be in better shape to confront him."
        "I hate him."
        "I would ask why but I think I am afraid of what your answer may be."
        "I wouldn't tell you."
        He smiled.  "Maybe you will some other time.  Anyway – it matters not – providing you do not hate me."
        Prozac snapped at the frisbee and sauntered in Adam's direction, then spun around bounding toward me.  "I don't hate you."  My voice sounded bored.  "But – I'm restless."
        "Fine.  We will move on."
        "To where?"
        "Almost anywhere.  Where would you like to go?"
        "I don't know, I really don't feel like going anywhere."  Depression seeped into my consciousness, holding my mind hostage.  I hated feeling like this, as if there were nothing in the world that could make me happy.  Prozac leapt upon my lap with enough force to knock me over.  We wrestled around, her tongue trying to find a bit of my face to lick while I covered it with my hands, careful not to hit her with my cast.  Animals can sense your frame of mind.  When I was back in the room crying she sat at attention huddled by my feet.  When I looked down establishing eye contact her tail pounded into action right before she jumped up to kiss the tears from my face.  She was a definite bright spot within my depression.  I was grateful to Adam for bringing her to me.  Sitting suddenly I faced Adam.  "I want to meet Christa."
        Leaning on his elbow, he lounged on the lawn with an air of nonchalance.  He picked at the grass before him and for a moment I didn't think he was going to answer me.  "Whatever made you think of Christa?"  His voice was clear but I detected some type of dishonesty in the way he looked slightly past me.  "I know – we will go on a cruise."
        "If you want to hear the truth I don't want to go on a cruise.  I want to go home.  Wait – that's not altogether true.  I want to feel that I have a home.  You've dragged me here and there so much I really don't feel as if I do have a home, a place to belong."  He had told me that mine and Sammy's things were in storage at Salford Hall.  Our apartment had been vacated for us.  "Adam, what's the big mystery about Christa?"
        "What mystery?  She is an artist."
        "Don't act innocent.  You get a wary look in your eyes when you speak of her."
        "And a wary look constitutes a mystery?"
        "In your eyes yes.  Plus, Lisa refers to her as some sort of god like creature."
        "She does?"  He was trying to cover his surprise with amusement but it wasn't going to work.
        "Yes.  And Mollie thought she was strange –"
        He strained slightly toward a more upright position.  "Why were you asking your friend about her?"
        "I didn't ask about her."  Another lie.  "I described the statue she sculpted."  My face held the calm look I fixed on it only because I had been forced to become a liar.
        This seemed to satisfy him, though he asked, "What was so strange about her?"  His attitude always became intense when he spoke of Christa.
        I pictured Mol as I last saw her.  Her messy red hair aiming up toward the sky in clumps, matching the end of her nose from blowing it . . . the ridiculous pink of her robe covering her middle age body as she sat on her twenty year old couch.  It was the couch her parents gave her and Hal as a wedding gift – the same couch she slept on because she couldn't stand the loneliness of her bed after Hal died.  Her eyes had had a terrified look in them when I left her . . . could she have been afraid for herself and not me?  Could she have feared for us both?  Maybe not consciously, but on that uncanny other level on which her mind seemed to dwell; that place where she brought back seemingly unknowable knowledge?  At this moment I feared for Mollie in a way I didn't wholly understand and knew suddenly that I had to protect her.
        "All she said was strange.  It's a loaded word, use your imagination."
        "Why are you defensive?"
        "I'm not defensive.  Why won't you admit that there's more to Christa than just art?"  It was a good thing it was so hot because I could feel myself sweating.  Something was up, I was sure of it.
        He stared in my eyes, then focused on my lips when he spoke.  It reminded me of my Euripides recital into the mirror.  "Because she is a capricious individual.  Did you ever think she might not want to meet you?"
        No, that was something I hadn't thought of.  "Why, what have I done?"
        "Nothing.  Can we compromise?"
        "Maybe.  What do you propose?"
        "First, we sail the Caribbean, then we return to Index."
        "What's the catch?"
        "There is no catch."
        "What about Prozac?"
        "She can sail with us."
        There wasn't any point in thinking about it, it sounded like a good deal.  "Okay, it's acceptable."  I held my hand toward him.
        "If you feel well enough we will leave today."
        "I've felt fine for a while now."
        He held my hand for a moment, then kissed it daintily.  "We are not far from the Mexican border.  Would you like to go ring shopping?  I am sure we can discover some beautiful and unique silver jewelry."  He was looking right at the finger which held the ring I hoped Sammy now possessed.
        "Why not?  I'd be ill if I turned down a shopping trip - especially with someone else buying!"
        "Good."  Springing up, he yelled, "Race!" and began running toward the entrance.
        After a few seconds hesitation Prozac and I ran after him, but I was thinking of Rion chasing Eve.  The bastard!  It was much easier to bear if I were angry and I was.  Fuck him – really – fuck him!  It was strange the way Adam looked at my finger.  Did he know about the ring?  Or – could he have found Sammy?  No, he would have told me.  He knows that I'm concerned.
        Within two hours we were on a plane headed toward Miami to begin our cruise.

        It may sound stupid but I pondered the meaning of life while on the cruise.  I questioned the biological urge to mate and procreate.  Could this irresistible force be quelled?  I didn't think so, at least I couldn't altogether suppress the growing feelings focused on Adam.  He seemed less like an alien and more of what I've always wanted in a mate.  He was extremely intelligent, yet respectful of my opinions, not discounting what I had to say.  He was conscientious to a fault.  I would wake one morning with a delicate lily on the pillow beside me, on another morning it would be a bundle of statice.  I never did hear him come make his horticultural deliveries, and when thanked he would just smile and kiss my hand, obviously delighted.  On the third morning of our cruise he explained that he would never bring me a rose because he felt that they were cliché.  I liked that.  He gave me time to stare out upon the moving water, time to grow accustomed to the feel of his hand placed gently on the small of my back.  It wasn't long before I became aware of the way other women stared at Adam as he passed.  He was great looking – and he loved me with an intensity I couldn't help but find unnerving.  Brutal honesty had its pros and cons.  The way Adam looked at me was blatantly honest and sometimes I would rather not hear or see the truth.  He treated me like a queen, ready to clear an obstacle in a moments notice, yet letting me stand independent as an equal, capable of making competent decisions.  But - I wasn't a queen and didn't want to be one either.  I just wasn't content.   I couldn't help but compare him with Rion.  Adam and I had only known each other for a year, whereas Rion and I grew up together.  Our personalities had entwined through growth.  It was refreshing to converse with Adam.  To hear a stimulating opinion that I may not have expected of him.  Rion was intelligent, but not in the same way Adam was.  Adam was creative and inventive, analytical.  I liked the fact that he was constantly thinking.  When deep in thought Adam's eyes matched the water off Jamaica.
        There seemed to be something bothering Adam, though he never spoke of it.  His intense cellular conversations continued, though never within earshot.  I wondered if it had anything to do with me and it made me question his good moods.
        What was one's ultimate purpose in life?  Was it extreme monetary gain and material possessions, or was it the attainment of knowledge, as many kinds as could be crammed within a scull?  These questions surged back and forth.  Was procurement of an appropriate mate and begetting of heirs the thing to seek?  What about drinking Molsons every Friday and Saturday night like millions of other lost and lonely people?  I sure as hell didn't have a clue.
        One morning while at the breakfast buffet a little boy with the reddest hair I had ever seen was having trouble reaching the food.  His brother had been screaming and chasing him around the deck the day before, while their father had called out directorial comments as he taped their antics.  My fellow passengers and I were less than thrilled.  As I helped the boy with the flaming hair dish out some fruit I was struck by a question.  Who was behind the camera taping Rion and Eve?  I had only been around Lisa for a little over a week but she didn't seem the type to wield a camcorder.
        Later that afternoon after lounging in the sun, Adam and I stopped off for a cup of coffee at one of the small lounges on board.  The little boy happened to be there.  He waved, jogging my memory.  Once we brought our coffee back to the table I asked Adam if he knew who taped the tape.
        "No I do not.  But, I have thought about the tape.  For some reason, I cannot say why, it does not seem, for lack of a better word – right."
        "That's exactly what's been bothering me!  I mean, I know that it's definitely Rion and Eve and Salford but its just –"
        Adam set his coffee mug down with a clang, looking at me strangely.  "Why would she do this?"
        "Who do what?"
        "Eve.  I think I know why the tape seems bogus."
        "Why?"
        "Because it was made a year ago."
        Puzzled, I reached for my coffee, asking, "How the hell could you know that?"
        He looked sly.  "How do you think she got him to marry her in the first place?  The oldest trick in the book, so to speak.  She told him that she was with child and he was the culprit."  His eyes seemed to smile wider than his lips.  "Of course, she was lavishly more romantic.  She was much nicer to him then.  Believe me, if she told him that she were pregnant today we would not have seen the reaction we did."  Yes, I felt that's what had been bothering me.  He grew serious again.  "What could her motive be?  Eve would know it is a lie that could not be sustained – especially from me."
        I knew why.  She wanted me to think that Rion lied to me.  That they still had a relationship so I would feel the exact way I was feeling right now.  What a fucking bitch she was!  This was both good news and bad news.  Damn – after mourning Rion's loss a second time I was having some trouble feeling happy that it was probably a lie.  "Adam, how can you tell it was made a year ago?"  Rion's reaction was my point of contention but I wondered if there was more evidence.
        He wiped his mouth with his napkin.  "Come with me to my room and we will find out for sure."
        Waving goodbye to the little boy, I followed Adam to his cabin which was next to mine.  During the walk there I had second thoughts about bringing this subject up at all.  Adam had been a sweetheart ever since my jump from the car.  Although I couldn't be sure of his attitude if he found out that Rion and I were together in the barn, sharing much more than literal secrets.  Did it matter that the tape and Eve's pregnancy were faked?  Now that I had let Rion go, couldn't I just leave it at that?  So what if he still wanted me – maybe I didn't want him - or anyone.  I felt trapped within a Days of Our Lives script.
        The elevator brought us down four decks, and Adam held the door for me.  He was constantly doing corny gallant things like that.  We passed numerous other vacationers, some in bathing gear, others in the typical street clothes of city dwellers.  Our footsteps were silent, the sound sucked up by the carpet.  Interestingly, I found myself attempting to stay in step with Adam as if we were marching.  First right foot, now left.  Damn, I kept messing up and then trying to inconspicuously skip in order to get back into step.  After a while I gave up because I felt stupid.  If asked why I was doing it in the first place I couldn't have answered.   Within ten minutes we were inside Adam's room.
        Adam put the tape in the VCR and this time I watched it objectively, with no more than indifference.  The camera angle showed a clump of daffodils near the house, then a small tree with numerous white and pink buds, swinging over to a stone frog preparing to leap from its perch and then the chase began across the virgin lawn.  After Rion caught Eve they smiled at each other, at the camera, at me.  Damn it, it didn't matter whether this tape was a year old or not, it pissed me off.  If Rion could have ever looked at someone like that, as I had seen him look at me, then he couldn't be trusted whether he regretted his actions or not.  There were then more scenery shots, a few interesting angles as if someone stood below the spires and aimed the camera straight up.   Then the observatory, which in daylight had a grayish and smokey tinted glass.  The last scene was of a much trodden muddy trail leading from the barn up into the woods behind the house.
        I looked at Adam who had been staring intently at the screen.  He turned to me when the images faded and he winked.
        "There are a few anachronisms."  He rewound the tape, starting it again.  "It is strange that I did not recognize these facts were out of place the first time.  Here – look at the frog.  That is gone, Christa took it back to her studio to redo and smashed it because she hated its look of freedom . . . yes, Eve's hair was blonder then, she had dyed it and unless she just touched it up I would say it appears as it did a year ago.  Now – this is proof.  I purchased the second telescope last fall but if you look closely there is only one present."  He was right.  "I wonder what my sister is scheming."  He began to pace, muttering, "Of all those around me she must be trustworthy –"
        Here goes nothing.  After a deep breath I spoke.  "The tape was sent to confuse me."
        He switched the television off with a snap of his wrist.  "For what purpose?"
        After another deep breath I said, "Rion and I had an . . . encounter while I was at Salford Hall.  Eve probably wants to alienate my feelings for Rion – again."
        His demeanor was subdued, a good sign, and he seemed obscurely relieved.  "I could tell you were different when I picked you up in town.  Now I know why."
        "You can't blame me Adam!  Rion and I were together for years, as if we were husband and wife!  He seemed safe to me when you seemed –"
        "When I seemed what?"
        "Dangerous – overwhelming – overpowering – Adam you had kidnaped me, kept my sister and I against our will!  Then you tell me you're the person who has been willfully manipulating the worst events of my life – how was I to feel for you?"
        "How do you feel now?"
        "Just a minute, I'm not finished.  You tell me you love me then proceed to scare me with the way you practically smother me.  Now, don't be angry when I say this, because I'll never divulge the source.  I overheard a conversation about our upcoming wedding."  He looked at me evenly, though with a tinge of guilt.  "So, I felt trapped, no – worse than trapped.  I felt enslaved.  When I saw Rion at Salford he seemed to be my only hope at freedom."
        "Seemed?  Why do you use the past tense?"
        "Because you appear to have loosened the fetters somewhat.  I won't lie and tell you that I love you in the way you love me, but I can honestly tell you that I care for you now, at least more than I did."
        He pointed toward the television.  "The tape was a fraud."
        "Yes and no.  It was the way he genuinely felt toward her then, which is enough for me to know I can't forget the way he looked at your sister."
        "You are a hard woman."
        "Yes I am – when I have to be."
        "I see."
        "Adam, if there was ever a time that I needed a truthful answer from you it's now.  Were you involved with this tape?"
        "No."
        I looked into his eyes, scrutinizing.  "I want to believe you but I'm afraid."
        "That is understandable.  Deianira, I was not involved."
        "Okay."  He looked like he wanted to say something but didn't.  "Is there something you should tell me?"
        "No, not in the way you are thinking."
        Could I trust him?  I had no choice.  "Let me ask you a question."
        "Go ahead."
        "If I wanted my freedom – and I'm not saying that metaphorically – I literally mean freedom – could you let me go?"
        "Interesting choice of words, 'could' and not 'would'.  I do not know if I could – or would.  Is that a decision I need to be making now?"
        "I don't know, Adam.  The thought of involuntary marital conscription isn't exactly a motivation for falling in love."
        "I cannot change the way I feel toward you though.  You know I am as trapped as you are."
        "Yes, I know."
        "It is worse for me –"
        "How?"
        "Imagine loving someone with such a severity that it brings panic to your otherwise logical mind.  Imagine the object of this love as someone who not only rejects your romantic interest – but renounces everything about you –"
        "I haven't renounced everything about you –"
        "Haven't you?"
        "Maybe I did – but it was only because you took my choice from me!  You left me no recourse but hatred.  Your obsession isn't flattering Adam – it's frightening."  I warily felt the silkiness of Prozac's head.  "I'll never love you in the way you want me to.  It's as simple as that."
        "I have to believe in time you will love me.  You have to."
        "That's bullshit – I don't have to do anything."
        He glared at me for a few seconds then started toward the bathroom.  "This has grown tiresome.  Go change for dinner."
        I'm not hungry damn it.  "See ya in a bit."  I barked out, leaving his cabin, crossing to mine with Prozac in tow.  It was interesting, she didn't seem to like Adam.  She tolerated his presence just fine, but didn't seek his attention at all.
        I changed from my shorts and tank top into a long black dress, of which the strap constantly slipped from my left shoulder no matter how many times I pulled it up.  Thankfully Adam had let me choose the clothes I wanted this time.  On the Moon my wardrobe had been pre-selected.  Not that Adam did a bad job choosing my clothes then, it was just nicer to do yourself.  Prozac was being a pain.  Her yellow blond hair stood out in stark contrast to the black of the silk.  I ended up locking her in my bathroom with a bone so I could use half a roll of tape to remove her hair from the dress and make myself appear presentable.
        On my way to meet Adam I stopped in front of the full length mirror behind my cabin door.  There was something about this dress that made me feel confident - almost mean.  My hair reached my mid-back, arranged in a loose braid and parted slightly on the side with a hint of gel to keep it from falling back into my face.  The fiberglass cast was most inelegant, though comforting to the rebel within me.  It made me feel unique.  I reapplied my eye liner before exiting.  Did I consider myself beautiful?  Yes and no.  I wasn't beautiful in a Supermodel kind of way.  Then again there were only a handful of women who were beautiful in that way and they were the Supermodels themselves.  Hell, who knows what they really look like, besides whoever gets a peek beneath the glamour.  No, I was beautiful in my own way – of that I was certain.
        Out in the hall I admired the polished mahogany paneling on the walls.  Our cabins were in an expensive range, I was sure, though definitely not top of the line.  Knocking on Adam's door, I felt the same restlessness pervade my soul that seemed to haunt me constantly.  What was the point?  My mind seemed to say.
        Adam greeted me with a spectacular smile and took my hand leading me to the dining room two decks away.  I had lost a few pounds during my hospital stays, though was definitely reestablishing them through the rich cruise victuals.  Once we were seated, I noticed Adam watching me more than usual.
        "You seem perturbed again."  He told me as he poured a glass of wine.
        Taking the glass he offered, I swallowed its contents and handed it back for a refill.  "Hit me again."
        This time he filled the glass almost full.  "Drink up Deianira.  Hopefully the alcohol will take the edge off your moodiness."
        "Sure, it will make me numb Adam.  Is that what you want from me?"
        "Shut up and drink."  He sounded good-natured but I could tell he was getting annoyed.  "This is all for you."  He waved his hand toward our sumptuous surroundings.  Hundreds of diners sat variously arrayed in expensive clothing, nestled among the accouterments of the ship.  "You told me you always wanted to go on a cruise, did you not?"
        "Yes I did."  My voice sounded languid, which was in direct contrast with the lively orchestral tune playing in the background.  "I think I want something else – perhaps to go home."
        "Why?"
        For the first time that day I genuinely laughed.  "For the life of me I can't say why."  The empty wine glass had a despondent look to it so I grabbed the wine bottle myself for another refill.  "I know one thing – wait – make that two.  First, I need to find my sister – second, I'm getting smashed – or should that be the first?"  The red and gold color scheme of the room seemed too loud and somehow contradictory.
        "Go ahead, just make sure you do not throw up here in the dining room."  He smiled slightly, acting exquisitely tolerant.
        "What's in it for you?"  My voice already began to slur.  I hadn't eaten since lunch and this wine was particularly potent.
        "You are more agreeable half drunk."
        "That should bother you, you know."
        "It does, but what can I do?"
        "You could let me go."
        "I am afraid I cannot."
        "I know."
        "It is complicated – maybe dangerous –"
        The waiter finally approached and in my inebriated state of mind I discounted Adam's last statement.  The waiter was short with blond hair, skin so pale I wondered if his blood was even circulating.  He seemed more than willing to kiss ass for the tip.  Being a waitress I guess I knew how it was.
        "Are you ready to order?"  The generic politeness was so familiar that it pissed me off.
        "We might be – what's your name?"  I looked for a name tag but couldn't find one.
        "Bob – uh Robert, Ma'am."  His blush gave him the appearance of a seventeen year old, though he was probably pushing twenty-five.
        "Well I don't mean to give you a hard time Bob Robert.  Don't get me wrong . . . you aren't misinterpreting are you?"
        He looked from me to Adam then back to me before shaking his head no.
        "Bob Robert," I continued, "do I seem like I'm having a good time?"
        Adam warily leaned forward, asking me softly, "Deianira what is the point of this?  I am sure Robert has other dinner guests to attend to."
        "Of course he does Adam.  All I want is an answer to my question.  Mr. Bob Robert, be honest, go ahead."
        He nervously studied his order pad before answering.  "No you don't seem to be having a good time."
        I laughed.  "That's where your wrong Bob Robert.  I'm having the time of my life thanks to you."
        "Glad to hear it."  He mumbled, reminding me that he was here to take our order.  I ordered prime rib, holding off on more wine because my stomach started to protest.  In a way I felt guilty for giving Robert a hard time.  Damn it I'd been through it before.
        Adam looked distant as we waited for our meals.  Neither of us had spoken since our salads were placed in front of us.
        "You look nice tonight."  His words were apologetic.
        "Thank you, so do you."  He did, he always did.
        "Is there anything I can do to make you happy?"  He pleaded.
        "No."  It sounded cold but I was being honest.  "Just keep the wine flowing tonight.  I'll probably feel better tomorrow, at least psychologically."
        "I hope so.  I hate seeing you like this."
        Our food arrived, mostly cooked to perfection, though my steak was a little overdone for my taste.  I ate it anyway.  The bottle of wine dwindled, then disappeared so Adam ordered another.  My stomach felt somewhat placated.  I looked around the room, aware that the dim lighting was probably a large part of my depression.  Dim lights had that effect on me.  The other passengers ate, drank and laughed oblivious to my turmoil.  I turned to Adam, telling him, "I feel alone.  In this room full of other people, in this world, I feel completely – utterly alone."  He nodded his head, not in agreement but in understanding.  "I'm drunk Adam, but I know what I'm doing.  Let's leave."
        The return walk was wordless.  There was nothing to say.  We both felt swallowed by our private desperation.  Adam in his obsession, me in my bondage.  When Adam unlocked his door I went in first, noticing the brief spurt of surprise on his face at the fact I entered his cabin and not my own.  The silk dress had felt like little more than a negligee.  That's the nature of wearing silk, only now it was an encumbrance.  I pulled it over my head tossing it into a chair, kicking my heels off at the same time.  I crossed to the small window, opening it and feeling a slight breeze.  When I turned, Adam was standing with his back against the door, his face rapt with the look of a cornered animal.  As I approached him, I could swear I saw fear flash across his face, then it was replaced by his trademark amused smile.  Standing before him I began unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket, then shirt.  He made no move to either stop or help me.  Once I pulled them off, I took a moment to admire the scene he created.  The muscles he had cultivated.  The dark hair from the base of his neck to the waistband of his trousers.  Tentatively I reached forward, touching him.  He flinched ever so slightly, remaining motionless.  I felt, rather than saw his fingers touch my waistline, beginning to move upward toward my neck, searching for the clasp of my strapless bra.  It was an effort, but I had to look directly in his face and make a conscious choice to accept the sexual feelings that he brought out in me.  He saw in my eyes the fact that I knew what I was doing, that I wanted to touch him and wanted him to touch me.  Our faces slammed together in a desperate kiss.  Not a tender gentle kiss of love, but an animal and grinding kiss of appetite.  I knew I was using him to quench my loneliness, but felt no remorse.  The balance of our clothing was summarily shucked off and discarded and we fell to the floor taking advantage of the springy carpet that had been beneath our feet.  I noticed no anatomical differences between Adam the alien and Rion the human, though I didn't look either.  Rather, I concentrated on sexual pleasure, wanting to feel if nothing else, less empty than I felt before.  Concentration was the key.  I let go of my worries – no longer concerned with what may happen three years from now – even three weeks from now.  All I wanted to feel were his lips biting my neck, his hands on my breasts – and yes – his penis from within me, affecting me biologically, alerting certain neurotransmitters to come alive and explode within my brain thus allowing my body the ecstasy – and pain – of orgasm.  It was good.  At the uncontrollable height I wondered about the other realm of the mind, the realm where Mollie's came back from with its precious cargo.  I felt a tinge of the ability to know more than I should – then it was gone.
        When it was over I retrieved the dress to pull back over my head, not bothering with the bra or panties, which I balled up and stuffed in my purse after I removed my door key.  Adam watched me move about the room naked besides my forearm cast.  His eyes took in all of me.  My breasts were large, already sagging from their weight.  I had stretch marks when I was thirteen.  I was as proud of my flaws as I was of my near perfections, amid my numerous scars from a wild childhood.  The scar on my left knee from the time when I fell down the embankment in Blanchard's park because Rion chased me over the edge when I was thirteen . . . or the scar hidden by my cast on the underside of my left forearm where I had scraped Rion's initials into the flesh with a knife, an adolescent tattoo signifying commitment and love.  Although the scar itself was from grating the scarred initials from existence with a razor blade after a fight the night before Easter one year.  My past with Rion was a multi-scared mosaic in personal code – a now obsolete code.  Without a word I slipped the dress on, walked out and unlocked my door, taking only time enough to free Prozac from the bathroom before I pulled the dress off once again and slid into my bed exhausted.

        The next morning poor Prozac had to go to the bathroom and I woke with her jumping on my chest – not a good beginning to the day.  My first thoughts had been of my escapade the night before.  I heard a whisper of Rion's voice in my mind declare: 'I'll kill Adam before he can have you' and I had agreed.  If Adam had ever tried to rape me I would have wanted to kill him.  What a difference choice made, it was surprising.  In a way I wished I had slept beside Adam but that raised other issues.
        Sex had broken the deadlock within my mind – was it sex or was it plain and simple action?  Goals, goals, we all need goals and my new goal was an old goal, finding Sammy and investigating Christa.  Waking up on that morning was enlightening because I realized I was no longer afraid of Adam.  I felt he no longer held power over me – or at least his power had diminished considerably.
        For the remainder of the cruise, a whopping two days, Adam and I were inseparable with one exception.  I never spent the whole night with him.  I had to laugh, our relationship fell directly within the realm of a Love Boat episode, on the surface anyway.  The thing that always bothered me about that show was the fact we never saw what happened to these people once they got back on solid ground, returning to their humdrum nine to five lives.  Sure, it was easy to say fuck it out in the middle of the ocean, floating aboard a mini palace with all your comforts catered to.  Hey – I even had sex with an alien.  But, what was going to happen when we left this ship?  Could I pretend everything was fine, go back to Stapleton, finish my degree – get a job?  The thought of settling down into a typical life was enough to make me laugh.  After all I had gone through – how could I settle down unless I pretended none of it ever happened?  I tried to push thoughts of the future into the corners of my mind where I wouldn't have to concentrate on them.  What's that Alcoholics Anonymous saying, one day at a time?  I guess.
        There was something else hanging over my head.  The thought of facing Rion was twisting my guts into knots.  I felt guilty and knew I didn't want to deal with his reaction.  Why should you feel guilty?  Is a question I kept asking myself and I knew the answer.  You should feel guilty because you know he loves you and you know it would crush him to see you with Adam.  Was I doing this to punish him for his initial relationship with Eve?  No, I didn't think so.  If that were my reason I would look forward to flaunting Adam – I wouldn't dread it like I do.  Plus, the last person in the world I wanted to make happy was Eve, the bitch.
        It was on the plane headed toward home when I realized I had been happy at Ceñir El Viento and on the cruise.  We were almost back to Albany New York when I looked over at Adam sitting beside me.  The simple curve of his neck where his chin stopped and ear began gave me a burst of pleasure. I leaned over and kissed Adam lightly on the cheek, surprising him.
        "What was that for?"  He sounded so shocked that the woman sitting across the isle from us looked over with interest.
        "I wanted to thank you for all the good times I've had in the past while."  I whispered.  He looked happy, though I added, "But I don't love you."
        "I know that.  I had fun too."  He quietly responded, reaching for a magazine from the selection in the seat pocket before him.  "But I know things will change once we get back."
        "Undoubtedly."
        He flipped from page to page before he spoke again.  "I respect you too much to tell you what to do, but I feel the need to say this."
        I thought I knew what was coming.  "Stay away from Rion?"
        "Yes, do not touch him."
        I noticed his fingers were crushing the magazine.  "Easy now killer."  Reaching over, I loosened his grip on the pages.  "The last thing I need are more problems between the four of us."  I replaced the magazine, slightly more crumpled than before.  "Don't you think it would be better if we didn't stay at Salford?"  Admittedly I was being a wimp, not wanting to face Rion for many reasons.  Foremost being I didn't want to recognize the fact that I probably still loved him.
        "Maybe.  I cannot arrange anything for a few days though."
        "Okay . . . just don't be mad because I care for him, it's something I can't stop."
        "I will not be angry – if you and he keep your hands off one another."  His eyes bore into mine.  "If it was not for Eve Rion would be dead."
        I matched his gaze with a confidence I didn't know that I had.  "Adam.  If you so much as bruise a fingernail of Rion's there will be hell to pay."  The steady drone of the plane's engines was the only other sound my ears perceived.  "Everything you ever cared for, Eve, Salford Hall, me – even your car will go up in smoke – literally.  Your life would be burned to the ground, a little kerosene goes a long way in that respect."  He looked away so I grasped his hand in mine.  "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
        "I understand."  He pulled my hand forward to his lips.  "Just understand that it is not easy for me to feel helpless but you know I will not hurt him."
        "Helplessness is an inescapable human emotion Adam.  If you want to live within this culture you better get used to it."
        "I do not like it."
        "Who does?"  He shrugged.  "Yes, I think we understand each other.  Things will work out."  I settled down, leaning my head onto his shoulder while staring out the plexiglass porthole across the plane.  Would things work out?  Probably not, did anything ever work out?  I thought of Prozac, who was sleeping off a tranquilizer in her pet crate near my feet.  Her life seemed so simple by comparison, eat drink and play.  My eyes closed but my mind remained alert, which added to the feeling of trepidation.  I could smell Adam and was comforted by his scent and warmth.  In less than two hours I would be home once more, not ready for life to commence.

        That was when Gleason's faction kidnaped me.  I thought back to when Adam and I left the plane on our way back from the cruise.  It was just another one of those unexpected occurrences that seemed to plague my life now that Adam had invaded it.  The air was chilly in New York, in comparison to the Caribbean or Florida; we could feel it as soon as we disembarked into the folding tunnel leading to the airport.  We entered the terminal, casually holding hands.  Our carry-on luggage was in Adam's free hand and Prozac's case in mine.  When four men wearing jeans and pocket tee shirts rushed forward and grabbed me I instinctively held onto Adam's hand but they ripped us apart.
        It wasn't difficult to remember seeing the complete shock on Adam's face as he stood on the carpeted walkway, both hands now gripping the carry-on case.  Come to think of it, I held Prozac's case in the same way, only clutched to my chest.  Whoever these men were they didn't seem to care whether I brought my dog along for the ride as long as I kept moving.  Two of them held me underneath each of my arms and were whisking me along at an extremely rapid pace; my feet barely touched the ground because they held me nearly airborne.  It all happened so fast that it was nearly a full minute before I had the epiphany that I was being abducted by four men I didn't know.  Once this realization hit, I attempted to pull my arms away and dig my feet into the rug, but it made no difference at all.  We continued along.  I yelled, "Hey – who the fuck –" before a gun was produced by the man on my left, who steadily held my gaze, looking at the gun, then up at my face.  It was close enough for me to read Ruger on its base.  Once my mouth closed, he replaced the gun back into his Levi's jacket pocket.  I knew better than to argue with them just for the simple fact that I had no idea what the hell was going down; for all I knew they had the wrong girl, mistaking me for someone else.  So, until I could assess what I was up against I figured I should be cool.
        It was an irresistible urge to crane my head around to peer over my shoulder to see where Adam was.  The other two men of this team were casually standing near him back where passengers were still disembarking from our flight.  To the average passer by the scene would appear normal; three men standing on the perimeter of the carpeted walkway next to the puffy velvet covered rope that separated the path, but, in the second that I looked back I could discern trouble.  The stiffness of their posture was the most apparent inaccuracy and I could tell there was at least one weapon holding Adam there because he looked like a man being tortured through his inability to act.  Never before until this very moment did I realize the extent to which I cared for Adam; I hoped they wouldn't hurt him.
        That one glimpse was all I got of Adam because my two captors shooed me out the door into the disorientating sunlight.  A dark blue Lumina mini-van eased up to the curb; another man inside opened the sliding door.  Reaching, he deftly removed Prozac's case from my hands, stowing it on the floor before the seat.  I knew the worst thing for me to do was to get into the van, but it didn't seem that I had any choice.  During my few seconds of hesitation the thug on my right had extricated himself and climbed into the front seat of the mini-van, though the goon on my left held me firmly.  He propelled me forward, moving one hand from my arm, placing it on my backside to help push me inside.  I whirled around suddenly, swatting at his face with my cast, hissing, "Get your hand off my ass!"  He held his face, startled, and I probably could have run but I didn't.  Instead, I stepped into the van and sat on the seat buckling my seat belt.  If I had run - I knew they would have caught me.  Plus they had Prozac and I couldn't leave her.  The goon I hit got in and closed the door, looking at me with a sideways glance fraught with caution.  The van pulled forward and the terminal gradually disappeared behind us.  I looked at these four men.  The driver looked vaguely familiar, though I wasn't sure from where.  The rest were complete strangers.
        I found my voice.  "Who are you guys?"
        No one answered me at first.  Then the guy in the front passenger seat turned and said, "We need you."
        "That doesn't answer my question; are you sure you have the right person?"  His eyes were a fantastic brown with mini flecks of white hot gold around the edges.  I studied them for a moment then asked, "What do you need me for?"
        His eyes swept over me, giving me a chill I couldn't quite hide, but he didn't answer.  He faced front again slumping slightly in his seat.
        "Fine – don't tell me then."  My voice sounded both irritated and pissed.  The driver glanced at me in the rearview window but I looked away.  Prozac began to whine, coming out of her drug induced sleep so I reached forward to liberate her from her case.  No one stopped me as I pulled her out, eyes glazed and drugged.  I remember hugging her to my chest, thankful that I had her with me, wondering what the hell else would go wrong.  If I had only known what Gleason would do I would have tried to escape.  My head felt really heavy.

        Gleason was gone and I felt as if I were back in my coma again, lying on the musty smelling mattress; though this time I carried reality along with me.  Everything appeared jumbled and confused and I felt my mind fight to break free, like a diver whose air has run out who kicks frantically to get to the surface.  Heracles remained silent, although I had disjointed conferences with someone who seemed like Sammy, someone who seemed extremely angry.  Eventually I opened my eyes, worried suddenly at the fact it was dark, then realizing I wasn't blind, the sun had gone down.  Trying to lift my head sent the whole house into a spin, so I decided to lie still for a moment.  It was then that I heard breathing to my left, the steady uneventful breath pattern of sleep.  I reached over and lightly felt along the mattress until I came to a warm shape.  My hand recoiled as if bitten by a snake.  It was difficult to move my head, which was pounding, but the rest of my body moved easily enough to the right, off the edge of the makeshift bed.  Prozac stirred.  I heard her stretch and yawn before she sauntered over looking for some affection.  Sitting with my head between my knees for a minute, I noticed I was now wearing a softly worn sweatshirt instead of the ripped remnants of my oxford shirt.  Memory flooded the darkness, filling me with feelings of dread and disgust.  I hoped I got a chance to thank that old lady for stopping that psychopath before he went any further; it was bad enough feeling his fingers inside me and then the head of his penis –  My hands gripped my knees with a grim intensity.  Whoever this bastard was – no matter what – I knew I would kill him if given the chance.  If nothing else I wanted to sic Adam on him.  Let him tear Gleason apart.  Too bad Prozac wasn't a full-grown killer Pit Bull.  I would love to watch her chew him up, piece by piece.
        I was feeling better, physically that is.  The dim light that came in through the window illuminated only the far corner of the room so I couldn't see the mattress clearly.  The rhythmic breathing continued and I thought it was time to confront whoever it was.  With great care I searched my immediate vicinity looking for some weapon, then I remembered the grubby razor in my sock.  It was still there.  It was hard not to laugh at the thought of defending myself with a Bic razor.  I could yell, 'Get back or I'll scrape you!'  Sure.  Whoever lay sleeping probably wouldn't be much of a threat, after all, he or she was sleeping like a baby.  I threw the razor out into the darkness hearing the 'ping' of the plastic as it bounced.  The breathing sucked in suddenly, then stopped as I heard the sleeper sit up.  There was part of me that was too tired to move when I sensed a hand reaching for me.  In a way I wanted to snap it in half.
        "Deianira?"
        My head whipped around at the sound of the voice.  Could it really be?  "Sammy?"  I whispered into the darkness, knowing that wishing her here was futile, although I was sure it really was her voice I just heard.
        "It's me, Deia."  I heard her say as she hugged me from behind.
        It took a moment for me to speak because a thousand questions and thoughts were fighting to get out, and, seemingly every conceivable emotion was struggling for control.  Finally I simply asked, "How are you?"
        She laughed, but it had a cynical unamused tone.  "I guess I'm better off than you are right now.  What did Gleason do, knock you out?"
        "Is Gleason the dude who looks like a Thor, Native American wanna be?"
        This laugh was genuine.  "That's him!"
        "Gleason is a dead man."
        The laughter stopped abruptly.  "You've changed big sister."
        "I've adapted to my conditions."  We sat in silence.  "What happened to Gina?"
        "Oh, she's around . . . in fact she's going to bust us out."
        "How?"
        "Gina has a way of doing things."  Sammy stroked Prozac's head while she spoke.  "She grew up in a rough New York neighborhood where she learned to fight back.  When we were on the Moon she –"
        "So now you acknowledge that we were on the Moon?"
        She ignored me.  "Gina talked about fire and blowing things up.  Believe me, the chick's a real pyromaniac – that's how we got off the Moon.  She set Red Key on fire.  If you could have seen the Militia running around you would have known they never had to deal with a fire before.  Gina wanted to free everyone in our dorm but I told her first things first, that we couldn't be inconspicuous in a group.  There were probably thirty-five captives at Red Key and being black she was really sensitive about the slavery –"
        "Gina's black?"  I grinned in the darkness.  My mental picture of Gina had consisted of a generic Wonder Woman type, a young Linda Carter with a red, white and blue costume with high blue boots.
        "Gina's the craftiest person I ever met, besides myself of course."  Sammy's voice was grinning too.
        "How did you know about the conduits?"
        "We didn't at first.  Gina cornered the guy you gave the ring to, the one you called Hardy but had that weird name -"
        "Fardin?"
        "Yeah, the confusion was perfect, everyone was called over to help with the fire before it spread.  So Gina grabs that guy, how do you say it?"
        I pronounced, "Fa-deene."
        "Okay, she grabs Fardin and begs for a way out, tells him shit like a blow job is not out of the question, you know?  Anyway, he's scared to begin with because of the ring deal –"
        "The what?"
        "You gave him the ring to give to me remember?  See, its right here."  She found my hand and placed it on her left ring finger where I felt the thin silver band.  "Anyway, I step up and tell him it's in his best interest to get us off the Moon because everything is bound to come out into the open now with the fire and all.  I felt kind of bad because he looked so scared and small, but, ah, we had to get away didn't we?  He cruised us over to that shack with the doors and told us which one to go through –"
        "So where have you been?"
        "We came out near Sutton West Virginia.  It was crazy coming out of a building not knowing where on Earth you were but we looked at the situation logically and decided to hitchhike North on 79 into Pennsylvania.  We hung out in Pittsburgh for a while.  After I thought we were pretty safe I tried calling Mollie but I couldn't get through for a few days.  When I finally reached her she told me you had been to see her but had disappeared right after and Rion didn't even know where you were."  At the mention of Rion's name I shivered.  Did he wonder where I was?  "Mol did say she felt you were safe, you know, psychic vibes and crap –"
        "She was right.  I believe her psychic crap as you put it –"
        "Yeah, I know you do.  So Gina and I moved on, catching a ride with a trucker she met in a diner she worked at.  We rode across the state to Scranton with this guy, Gordy.  We were intending to get to Boston or New York City.  You wouldn't believe it; we pull over at this truck stop and I go inside to use the can, right?  I come out and see these truckers looking at me as I walk by and I'm thinking, yeah you'd look like shit too if you hadn't taken a shower in a few days either.  Then I see this poster behind the counter with mine and Gina's pictures on it – get this, it says 'Wanted' underneath our faces!  I figure this is some ploy of Adam's to find us so I rush out the door back toward the truck when a car pulls up ready to take me away and five fucking guys jump out in front of me!  Of course I ran, though as you can see they caught me, but not before Gina saw what was happening.  She gave me the high five while they were stuffing me into the car so I know she'll be here."  Sammy sounded as confident as a five year old who hasn't yet learned that good ol' Santy Claus was the biggest lie perpetuated on the most innocent of victims.
        "So where are we?"
        "Somewhere in Pennsylvania."
        "How long ago did they grab you?"  It seemed fairly coincidental that we both were taken by these same guys.
        "About a week ago.  Yeah, it's been six days.  I haven't seen Adam yet though."
        Adam.  I couldn't believe how much I missed him.  "And you won't.  These guys resent Adam for some reason."
        "Yeah, Gleason seems to at least, though he won't really talk to me about him.  I bet he can help us."
        "What do you mean by, 'help us'?"
        "You know, talk Adam into leaving you alone, or help us get away -"  Her blond head bobbed up and down hopefully.
        "I'm sure help isn't the right word to describe any of Gleason's actions."
        She sighed and hugged me.  "I know what he tried to do but I don't understand why.  He seemed okay to me, in fact, he's been great."
        I stiffly accepted her hug.  "You understand a hell of a lot more than I do."  We spent the next few hours filling in the gaps for each other, laying side by side with Prozac between us.  It literally took hours to tell Sammy about the past few months, everything that happened since we parted that day at Reflection.  The stay at Salford Hall was eventful, Eve, Rion, Lisa and Christa were all important in their own way.
        I told her about my response to Adam's reaction of her escape and she shook her head when she heard of my leap from his Porsche.  She had wondered why I had a cast on my arm.  Her head seemed to keep shaking when I described the cruise, telling her about mine and Adam's progression into what must be called a relationship of sorts.
        She told me how she worked in a department store while Gina worked in a diner so they could eat and have a place to stay.  She kept saying how different the world looked now that she had been on the Moon, how superficial the social structures and how isolated she felt.  It was wonderful to hear her talk because I knew what she was saying – I had said the same things before.
        As far as Sammy knew Gleason was Adam's brother and the old lady was some kind of grandma or something who was trying to keep the two boys in line.  I wondered why Adam had never mentioned other family to me, nor had Eve.  Adam and Gleason couldn't have appeared more disparate if they tried, although the inner workings of alien genetics were a mystery to me and I knew many human families with siblings who looked more like strangers.
        No one had attempted to harm Sammy while here.  She said she was watched closely but even allowed to go for walks in the fields.  Sammy depicted Gleason as a gentle and quiet guy with a deep burning hatred for Adam.  Fine, go ahead and hate Adam, but I was your victim you bastard, not your brother.  I wouldn't talk about what happened with Gleason, not even with Sammy, but gentle and quiet would not be two words I'd use to describe him.  Hatred, yes, I felt hatred in his fingertips when he crammed them inside me as a precursor to what else he would have done to me.  Could my hatred match his?  Yes, and mine exceeded his.  I wanted to kill Gleason more than I wanted anything in my life.
        Eventually I felt myself falling asleep.

        Sammy was entwined with my body when I woke, as intimate an embrace as a lover.  Regrettably, I knew something had changed within me.  No longer did I feel the unbreakable bond with my sister, the connection that needed no words.  No, now she was as much a stranger to me as every other breathing entity I would come in contact with.  She moaned softly as I pulled myself away from her, though did not wake.  I could feel the lumpy mattress beneath me as I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, admiring the swirls and abstract designs the filtered moonlight made when it finally hit its final resting place.  Why wasn't I happy, at least somewhat?  Sammy was found – at last – and Gina and Gordy could possibly liberate us.  But then what?  I felt the draw of Adam's presence, the craving for his lips against my ear.  Though this feeling was mingled with a hope to at least glimpse Rion again.
        This house was old and it wouldn't have been easy for anyone to sneak up on this room.  In fact, I heard someone coming up the stairs before the doorknob even began to turn.  I crouched in readiness, but relaxed when the silhouette proved to be owned by the old woman.  She beckoned toward me with a crooked hand and I followed her after shooing Prozac back inside.  Once out in the hall she grasped me in a hug which caught me off guard.  Her head was even with my breasts, and when I looked down I could discern the bald spots on top where her hair no longer grew.  As the hug dragged on, I shifted my weight, growing from uncomfortable to claustrophobic.
        "Ma'am?"  I whispered, not sure of what else to do.  At first she didn't move but then her head slowly tipped up toward mine and I found myself looking away from her gaze, a look of love and pity, neither of which I felt I deserved.
        "Deianira."  My name rolled off her tongue as if she had practiced saying it.  "Come along dear."  She agilely led me along, into another bedroom closing the door.  This was the first clean room I had seen in the house.  The floor was actually swept, and even though the furniture was sparse, everything was arranged in such a way as to create a cozy corner with an open expanse beyond.
        "I want to thank you for your intervention –"  I stammered, not sure how to express myself.
        She settled down into a sturdy looking rocker before she spoke.  "There is no need for barbarism.  Besides, Gleason would have regretted hurting you any further."
        He'll regret hurting me at all.  "Who are you and what does this all mean?"
        "Gleason is a delicate soul.  He rescues baby birds that have fallen from their nests and feeds them with eyedroppers until they are old enough to fend for themselves.  Do you know how much patients and compassion it takes to care for such lost souls?"
        Why was she telling me this?  It couldn't take as much patients as having to listen to this story.  "Yeah he's a real humanitarian I'm sure."  The irony of my words hung in the air like smoke rings.
        "Gleason feels the need to dominate.  He has always felt subservient to his brother –"
        "His hand wasn't violating his brother, lady.  They can duke it out any way they would like but raping me to get at his brother is crazy.  I want to be left out of it."  She slowly and methodically rocked up and down as she studied me.  "Adam will want to kill Gleason you know."
        "I know."  She seemed to be studying my rings and I felt somewhat self-conscious.
        My legs were growing tired.  "Can I sit on the bed?"  I asked, barely waiting for her assent.  "So why didn't Adam mention having any other family?"
        "He is ashamed of Gleason."
        "I can see why."  It just blurted out.
        Her eyes narrowed, and I knew I would be on shaky ground with her if I attacked Gleason.  "He should not have done what he did."  She stopped rocking.  "But he has had to deal with many obstacles.  That damn Christa is a big part of the rift between them -"
        "Christa?  The artist that lives in Index?"  My pulse raced at the connection.
        "You've met that damn woman?"  When she said damn it was enough to make you laugh.  You wouldn't expect her to swear even mildly.  Her wrinkly lips twisted together in an obscenely comical way.
        "No, I haven't met her, but she made a statue of me for Adam."  The statue danced in my mind writhing slowly to an unheard beat.
        "She must despise you."
        "Why would you say that?"  I asked her, wondering if it was true.
        "Because of Adam; his love for you must diminish her amount of control.  Christa is evil, she is.  She took both Adam and Evie away from what they knew; it was soon after they joined with Christa and her hoodlums.  Adam is respected and she wanted to take advantage of that I am sure."
        "What's my role in this, lady?"
        "You can call me Joy.  My Adam loves you desperately does he not?"
        "Yes, he does."
        "Let me ask, how do you feel about him?"  Her tone was gentle.
        It wasn't as if I felt like confiding in anyone but Joy had a compelling way of making me feel comfortable.  "I don't really know how I feel about Adam.  Sometimes I love him, sometimes I abhor him.  He's a complicated guy."
        "Aye, that he is.  You are so young child, and there are forces larger than you can imagine on the brink of a war –"
        "What do you mean war?"
        "It is not my place to elaborate –"
        "Yet I'm a pawn to be ransomed?  How can you do that to Adam?"
        "I cannot expect you to understand -"
        "Why don't you just explain it to me?"
        She listened to the silence for a moment with her head cocked to the left.  "Sometimes I do not understand myself.  How many noble causes start with good intentions to become mutated into something new and unrelated?  Maybe we will talk more tomorrow, Deianira.  I am tired now."  She suddenly seemed to be dismissing me.
        After a moment I stood and walked toward the door, wanting to press her for information but knowing that she wouldn't budge.  Before I left her I turned and stared directly into her eyes.  "I know Adam is peaceful, whatever Christa may be.  I have to tell you that I won't cooperate in the slightest bit – and – someday I'll make Gleason pay for what he did to me."
        She held my gaze for almost a minute before she looked away.  I hoped Gina got here soon.

        I hated the way Gleason looked at Sammy.  I hated the way that Sammy looked at Gleason even more.  I knew what I was seeing because I had been through it.  After what he did to me there was no turning back from the plan that was formulating within my mind.  He had to pay for hurting me.  Nothing could save him – even Sammy's love if she really fell in love with him.  I could see the process occurring in front of my eyes but was helpless as to how to put a stop to it.
        Gleason transitioned himself into Sammy's personal guard.  He escorted her practically everywhere, which strained mine and Sammy's relationship.  I couldn't help but resent her compliance and acceptance of Gleason and what he possibly stood for.  I confronted her the first day she disappeared with him for three hours.  She came back into our 'room' all smiles with wild flowers tucked behind her ears.
        "Deia, it's a lovely day outside!"  She sighed and fell onto the mattress that served as our bed.
        "I bet it is."  I replied, not looking in her direction, but out the nailed down window in search of a sign from Gina.
        "What's the matter with you?"  Her petulant tone seemed to admonish me for ruining her good mood.
        "What could possibly be the bothering me, sister dear?"  I turned and glared at her.  "You've only spent the afternoon out romping around with the man who would have raped me a few days ago if it wasn't for Joy.  The same man holding us hostage –"
        "What makes you any different from me?"  She almost shouted.  "Adam kidnaped us.  Did that change the way you gallivanted around the planet with him?"
        I was startled at her hostility.  "Adam never hurt us.  He treated us with respect and – he's a hell of a lot different from Gleason, that bastard!  Did you ever feel Adam's fingers rammed inside your vagina?"
        She blinked and looked away.  "I'm sorry for that Deia and Gleason's sorry too.  He won't talk about it but I know he is.  I tried to ask him why but he refuses to discuss it."  Her eyes practically pleaded for me to believe.
        "Sammy, I can't help but feel that you're fraternizing with the enemy.  Because he is the enemy.  What will you do if Gina shows up?  Are you going to stay here – with him?"  She looked afraid.  "Have you thought about the implications?  I will tell you honestly Sam – the first chance I get – I'm gone."  I paused.  "I want you with me more than anything I ever wanted."   I knelt before her.  "I finally found you!  Do you think I would just leave you behind?"  I placed my hand in hers.  "Though, you are an adult Sammy.  Whether you leave or stay will be entirely up to you."
        Her eyes had tears ready to drip from them.  "I knowww –" She wailed.  "It's just, you always get the attention and Gleason likes me, even before you came here.  He treats me really nice – I wish we were far away from this place!"  The tears blended with her freckles.
        "Jesus Sammy, there are plenty of other guys in the world that would treat you nicely –"
        "It's not that easy!"  And I knew she was right.  After that day we didn't discuss their relationship.  A semi-distance inevitably formed between us.
        My days were filled with plan making once again.  If Gina could start a diversion, Sammy and I could possibly go out onto the roof, then hang by our fingertips dropping to the ground.  But, there was Prozac to consider – plus the fact that I still had a lousy cast on my arm – and – Sammy and I both needed to be in the room when the diversion occurred.  In a way I was worried.  If Gina did show up we had no way to communicate with her.  Our only hope would be remaining prepared.  There was a small oblong glass in the door of our room that was grimy but could still be seen through, guards would often watch me.  I changed that fact.  The small bar of soap that I had confiscated from the airport came in handy – finally.  Every day I took the soap and gently obscured all existing places where they could look in on us.  Nobody cleaned it.
        I physically prepared myself by working out with make shift weights.  The wrought iron headboard and bed frame were strewn about the room in various chunks of which I made use of.  They wouldn't let me jog, for the simple reason they were lazy and no one wanted to run with me.  So, Prozac and I monotonously jogged around the room over and over.  Sammy gained pounds daily but her weight was a taboo subject that we never spoke of – ever.  She must have been getting preferential food from Gleason because I sure wasn't gaining any weight from the slop I was being fed.  I did try to encourage Sammy to think of our escape, but thinking was all that she did.
        It was easy to see that the men were getting restless, though I wasn't appraised as to why, whether it was inactivity or a glitch in strategy.  Either choice was fine with me.  When I was allowed from the room my guards grew increasingly lax when it came to security.  Once I was even left alone to wander around the house for a few minutes before they escorted me back.  I was counting on this to aid our escape.  No one would tell me my status as a hostage and Sammy couldn't get anywhere either, though I'm not sure how hard she really tried.
        It was on the eleventh day when I almost lost control of my bladder.  I heard the roar of a large engine then saw a tractor trailer roll by the house and knew it had to be Gordy and Gina.  Why else would a big rig be on this tiny back road?  Of course Sammy was out with Gleason someplace, which initially fucked up a togetherness plan.  I had already decided that if the chance arose I would leave without Sammy.  It wasn't that I didn't care about her anymore or felt as if it were every person for herself, no.  Let Adam and his militia bust in, they're probably good at this type of thing, better than me.  Plus, as each day went by I grew less sure that she would leave with me anyway.
        In my preparations I had pried the razor from its plastic casing and carefully used it and the plastic to loosen up and pick the caulk out from around the old window panes so I could remove the glass.  Now all I would have to do is slide the pieces of glass out and then break the thin wooden strips, a task much more quiet.  I inhaled deeply.  It was time.  It took me less than a minute to begin removing the panes of glass as fast as I could, not sure if someone would grow suspicious of the truck and be sent to keep an eye on me.  Boy, I hoped not.  The glass wasn't easy to pop out, not until I removed a few and could reach around and push from the outside.
        "Prozac, honey!"  I softly called toward the sleeping dog.  Her ears came up with an automatic wag of her tail as she stretched out languidly before strolling over to sniff at the piles of glass on the floor.  "Get ready baby, cause we're on our way out of here."  She wagged again and laid back down.
        My plan was this.  I would get out onto the roof and hopefully get down to the ground without being seen – or breaking a leg.  Unfortunately, it was four in the afternoon and the sun was blazing down with no shadows of dusk or darkness to hide me.  But you have to go with what you have in life I guess; it would be dark soon enough.  After reaching the ground I hoped to make it into the brush to the immediate right of the house without being seen.  Day after day I had watched from the window and knew there weren't sentries posted to guard the perimeter, but, I did see guys walking around a lot.  All I could do was hope no one happened to be outside.
        Six more glass panels to go.  Once I made it into the woods I figured I could make my way from the house by staying parallel to the road and when I heard the truck just jump out and hop in.  It sounded way too easy but it was all I had.  The glass was all out so I pushed on the frame.  It was stronger than it looked.  I used my cast for leverage and pushed as hard as I could but it wouldn't break.  Someone once told me that the strongest muscles in your body were in your legs so I backed myself up and made a kick like I had seen in plenty of kickboxing movies.  The wood exploded outward with a low splintering sound.  Staring at the cleared out window I realized there could be no turning back now.  I began clearing the rest of the fragmented frame when I heard the door opening behind me.
        "I just wondered if you would like some company –"  Turning from the window in a flash I glimpsed the utter surprise on Joy's face.  "What are you –"
        I crossed the room in what seemed a second and roughly pulled her into the room.  She felt like a life sized stuffed animal jerking forward into my arms and a frail one at that.  "I'm sorry for this Joy!"  I murmured into her ear as I dragged her toward the bed.  For an old woman she was extremely strong but I had youth and Adrenaline on my side.  I used one arm to grip her and cover her mouth while using the other to pull at the stained fitted sheet covering the mattress.  "I'm just going to tie you up, that's all!"  I pleaded with the struggling woman.  "I have to get out of here; I'm not going to hurt you!"
        She stopped struggling so I tentatively lifted my hand from her mouth.  "I know you will not hurt me."  She snapped.  "Gleason will hurt you when he catches up."
        "We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen then."  I began twisting the sheet gently but firmly around her body.
        "Where will you go?  There is not a house for miles."
        "Just worry about yourself Joy; I'll get by."
        "What are you going to do?"  By whispering she sounded deeply frightened.
        "What do you think I'm going to do?  I'm going back to Adam."
        "What of Sammy?  You would leave her here?"
        I looked her directly in the eye.  "Gleason wouldn't hurt her.  You and I both know that."
        "No, he will not hurt her but he will turn her against you."
        "He already has."  Wrapped in the sheet she looked as if she were ready to bust from a cocoon.  "I'm sorry but I have to gag you so you won't scream."  I reached for a tee shirt.
        "If I was going to scream I would have done so by now."
        "I can't take that chance."  I couldn't trust her, as much as I wanted to.  I balled up the sleeve to put in her mouth.  "Thank you for being so kind to me," I whispered as I felt tears well up in my eyes.  She looked so frail and proud that I felt as if I was killing my own grandmother.  "If only I understood this power struggle between Adam and Gleason!  You should have confided in me."
        She shook her head.  "It is out of my hands child."  She whispered.
        "Whatever."  I muttered to myself as I made sure she was securely bound and gently gagged.  An irresistible urge to lean down and kiss her forehead got the best of me.  "I'm sure we'll see each other again.  Thank you."
        I grabbed the makeshift sling I planned on using to get Prozac off the roof.  It was a large heavy sweatshirt that I had tied at the waistline then looped the arms around my neck.  "Come Prozie."  I called, ready to help her into the pouch.  "It's a good thing you're just a puppy!"  She leapt into my arms and easily crawled into the sweatshirt as we had practiced.  I glanced behind me with one leg out the window for one last look at Joy.  She winked in the most encouraging way and I knew she wouldn't betray me.  Damn tears were blurring my vision and I forced my emotions to calm.  It was time to move on.

        When I stood on the roof feeling the unfettered, fresh air and the openness all around me I almost turned back.  Fear is natural, I kept telling myself, without fear there is suicide – and mistakes.  Crouching down, I tried to make myself melt into the roofing tiles.  Sammy and Gleason could be anywhere and I knew I wouldn't get far if they spotted me.  This section of roof I was standing on covered the porch, luckily it was sloped to let water run off.  I crept toward the front edge scouting for anyone who might stop me.  No one was in sight.  It looked to be about a fifteen foot drop from here, so I hoped the edge would be more manageable.  Prozac began to wiggle so I stopped and caressed her head.  The key was going slow and sure.  If I rushed this I was going to get hurt or caught or both.  It wasn't as easy as I had thought it would be getting to the edge, the incline was a bit steep.  Plus, there was debris from a tall tree that hung over the house and I nearly shit when pine cones began to roll off the roof.  No one investigated.  At the edge I held my breath once looking down.  I could do this, I survived the jump from Adam's car for chrissake!  A small voice answered me within my head, "You didn't have to get across two states after you jumped either."  Shut up, I answered.  No negativity was needed here.  The estimated drop this time was between six or eight feet and I hoped Prozac would be okay.
        Sliding slowly over the edge I had to adjust Prozac onto my back.  Luckily she stayed put.  Suddenly inspiration hit and I scrambled back up.  Instead of jumping I could shimmy down the support post on the corner.  With this in mind I moved to the left.
        "I don't care what he says!"  An angry male voice snarled quite near my position.
        "Well, I care but, damn, what's going to happen when Adam gets here?"  A more timid but masculine voice chirped.  "You know he'll come for the girl as soon as you know rain will eventually fall in a desert."
        "How do you know he will find her?"  Asked a third voice.
        "Don't act like a complete ass Clem.  You know he'll find her and us.  Do you think Gleason is smart enough to cover his tracks?"
        "You better be careful what you say, not everyone is unhappy with Gleason's plan –"
        "Enough are unhappy if you ask me, and those that aren't are plain stupid.  If we were smart we would –"
        "Don't!"  The timid voice grew strong.  "Don't put it into words Royce.  It's bad enough that we're complaining, but, to say what I know you're thinking – no way.  I refuse to be a part of it."  The sound of his voice disappeared within the house followed by the other two.
        I was more afraid now than I had been, but figured this would be a better time to get away now that they went back in.  Quickly I thrust my legs over the side of the roof, feeling my heart thump with rapid irregularity.  I shimmied backward, gripping the post with my legs once they reached, while repeating please, please, please over and over in my head.  Glancing over my shoulder gave me the shivers, it was higher than I thought.  Without pausing for the fear, I climbed from the roof down onto the porch.  A quick look right showed me that my assumption was correct, the windows were so caked with filth that no one could see out of them.  I jumped from the porch onto the lawn, feeling Prozac's body thump against me from the inertia though she remained quiet.  Half way across the lawn I looked back to make sure no one was chasing me and was struck by the abandoned look of the house, though I kept on running.  Then I entered the woods.

        When I was fifteen or so Rion and I decided to go on a camping trip.  It would be just the two of us, and, it was going to be the first time either of us had sex.  It would be romantic we told each other, just like the movies.  We would set up our tent, have a cozy campfire, cook our dinner and then fall into a passionate embrace and let things move on from there.  Ma knew I was camping with Rion but his parents didn't know it would be the two of us on our own.  He readily lied.
        We hiked from Grenough Road up into the woods and after two and a half hours we found a suitable place to stop.  He set up the tent while I collected firewood, enough to hopefully last us the entire night.  We kept shyly looking at each other every time I came back with another load of wood and I could feel a youthful anticipation to get on with things but I could also feel fear and uncertainty claw at my abdomen like a wild animal.  I was even tempted to blurt out, "Okay, let's just do it and get it over with so we can enjoy the rest of the evening!"  But I didn't.  It would be time soon enough.  After all, sex was supposed to happen at night.
        Dinner consisted of hamburgers with lots of ketchup and pork and beans.  We both mowed in our food, more from physical need than psychological enjoyment.  After we finished cleaning up Rion took my hand and led me to a nearby tree.
        "Let's climb up and check out the view."  His voice trembled slightly.
        The tree was an old Maple, so it had plenty of sturdy branches to hold us.  "What about the fire?"  I asked him.  He climbed back down to put a couple large chunks on so it wouldn't go out.  I remember climbing higher and higher, feeling the branches grow thinner the higher I went.  There was a perfect resting place between a fork of a branch.  That's where I stopped.  The feel of the branch between my legs was so sensual that I held on extra tight just to be sure that I wouldn't fall off.
        "Here we are."  Rion whispered as he reached my height.
        "Yeah, here we are."  The darkness was near complete up here, but the light from the fire below was more than ample.  It was comforting as well.
        "Check out all the stars, Deia."
        It was a crisp night and being in the woods away from the town's lights made the sky incredibly dark and seemingly thousands of stars speckled the night.  "It's lovely Rion."  I felt him straddling the branch next to me.  "Jesus – don't fall!"
        "I'm okay."  He laughed.
        "It's too bad we can't see your namesake."  It was mid June and Orion was a winter constellation.  His mother had named him after the constellation because she could always find it in the night sky – better than any other.  She also wanted her baby to have the name of a warrior.  It's funny how life works itself out, that Rion and I should both be given ancient names then fall in love years later.
        "Look what I have."  I couldn't really see what he held, but I felt it when he pushed the object into my free hand.
        "Rope?"
        "Yeah, so we can sit for a while without falling."  He carefully twined the rope around the branch and then around my waist.  He did the same around his waist with a second length.
        "You know Rion, we should be careful."  I chuckled.  "If we get stuck in this tree no one knows where we are, exactly."
        "We won't get stuck in the tree, Ma!"  He laughed as he hugged me.
        His smell was the best aroma it seemed that I had ever inhaled and I felt a tickly feeling between my legs as I breathed deeply.  "I – I love you Rion."
        He grinned through the darkness.  "Probably not as much as I love you –"
        "No, more –"
        "Okay, we love each other!"  Then we kissed.
        This scene from my childhood invaded my consciousness like an annoying TV commercial as I confronted this wooded area.  That was a momentous night, the night Rion and I made love for the first time, but it had no business clouding my concentration now.  Why should I think of Rion at all?
        I hadn't gotten very far.  The underbrush was quite dense and difficult to fight through, especially while attempting to make as little noise as possible, and, while struggling with a strong puppy who wanted her freedom.
        There was something bothering me.  The truck didn't pass by again.  What if the tractor tailor that passed had legitimate business up the road?  What if Gina and Gordy were far from here?  Or – as I thought before, even if they were in the area I had no way of communicating with them.  I began to regret this decision.  The road was several feet to my right, I could see the opening, but figured I wouldn't be spotted by a casual driver.  Though, when I heard an engine I flattened myself to the ground.  The odds were whoever the driver was he or she would probably be beholding to Gleason.
        "The back of the house is on fire!"  Someone shouted back in the direction of the house.  The car roared off in that direction.
        My first thought was, Joy!  If she was still bound and gagged then she couldn't get away!  But wait, my mind answered, they would go save you now wouldn't they?  I couldn't take that chance – I had to go back.  The way back was easier because of the path I created but I stopped near the edge of the clearing just to see what I was in for.  Surprisingly, there were about twelve men standing in front of the house, some with their hands in their pockets, others with guns in their hands, watching the house become consumed with flames.  I moved forward to tell them of Joy when I spotted her over to the left near the old Impala I arrived in.  Instead, I backed up a few feet and crouched down.  What was going on?
        "No, no, no!"  Gleason was jumping up and down like an angry child.  "This ruins my plan – ruins!"  He pointed his finger around at the men standing there.  "As far as Adam is concerned she is not dead!  Do you hear me?"  He sounded hysterical.  "We move our base of operations, word is he is close to finding it anyway.  Gather up anything salvageable and move out!"
        "Noooooo!  I can't leave her!"  My heart jumped into my chest to hear the pain in Sammy's voice.  "Why couldn't any of you dumb fucks have gotten her out of the house once you saw it was on fire?"  She jumped up and down as Gleason had.
        For the first time I realized they were referring to me in the past tense.  They thought I was in that inferno.  But Joy knew I escaped, now why wouldn't she tell Gleason the truth?
        "Move!"  Gleason shouted.  "The fire department will be notified once this smoke is seen!"  The men seemed to want to act yet appeared to be mesmerized by the flames.  "Those who are here when the cops come can deal with the fact there is a dead girl inside!"  Some leader, I thought.  He grabbed Sammy's arm and pulled her toward a Jeep.
        "Let me go!"  She struggled against his grip.  "This is your fault!  How could you have let this happen!"
        "How is it my fault?  I did not start the fire!"
        "Who did, Mister leader?  You're in charge, you're the big man here."  She was going to get herself into trouble.  "Are you really in as much control as you think you are?"  I saw his hand swing back and I had to bite my lip not to cry out when his fist connected with her face.  She fell backwards, whimpering.
        "I control you – and – I control all of you here!"  He strode before the assembled men.  "I – said – MOVE."  The men began to move.
        As much as I wanted to let Sammy know I wasn't dead I knew I couldn't.  She sat with arms gripping her knees, her head resting on her arms, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.  I tasted blood from biting my cheek but it was hard to let it go.  Damn, I wanted her to realize the truth about Gleason, but not in this way.  It was just another reason to kill him, I kept repeating to myself, but not before I made him suffer.  He was lucky Prozac didn't see him hit Sammy.  They had grown close during our time here and she probably would have torn him up.
         Gleason came from behind the house, gesturing for Sammy to follow him to the Jeep.  She complied, obviously in shock, eyes glazed and red.
        It chilled me to see the men unloading the back shed.  Boxes with caliber ratings on them marched by, accompanied with many an armload of semi-automatic weapons.  I wasn't learned on recognizing assault weapons so I couldn't tell if they were AK 47's or Nine millimeters or whatever, but I could definitely tell they were made to shoot many rounds in a short span of time.  I had heard that assault rifles weren't all that accurate but enough people sure as hell died in shooting sprees.  They also had a staggering amount of armaments besides guns.  Boxes of grenades and even Caution Claymore Mines stenciled on a few boxes trudged passed me and were stowed among the various vehicles.  Who were these weapons to be used against?  I wondered.
        Within a few minutes everyone was gone besides Prozac and I.

        Who did start the fire?  I moved farther into the woods to wait for the fire department to clear out.  It seemed logical to hide because the truth would sound crazy to them and I wasn't in the mood to think up a good cover story.  It was strange watching the yellow jacketed fire fighters battle the hopeless blaze, although they didn't do so for long.  In their line of business they must recognize a lost cause when they see one.  The Pennsylvania State Police made an appearance, two dark blue cruisers arrived with their lights ablaze.  I listened carefully to the officers talking with the fireman in charge.  Conveniently, they came toward the woods to get some privacy.  I had to clamp Prozac's jaws together to stifle a growl.
 "It appears deliberate."  I heard the fire chief tell the troopers.  "I say appears but there's no doubt.  The rear of the structure reeks of kerosene, hell, the containers are still back there.  Whoever did this didn't attempt to hide anything and they must have gotten out of here in a hurry."
        "Any idea if the place was occupied?"  I looked up.  One of the troopers was a woman, her blue uniform obscuring her gender.
        "Hold on a minute."  The chief walked over to another fireman.  After a brief conversation he brought him over.  "This is Chris, he lives a bit down the main road.  Tell them what you told me Chris."
        A long blond ponytail poked out from beneath his fire hat.  "Nobody knows exactly who was staying here, but we all figured it was some militia group 'cause they had weapons and such, that's why we were nervous about the fire, not knowing what was in the house.  Live ammunition is dangerous in a fire."
        "I'm sure it is."  The male officer responded.  "Does anyone have any names of the occupants?"
        "Not that I know of.  I'll go ask around though."  Chris nodded toward the officers and walked away.
        "Is there any way of determining if there are any fatalities at this time?"
        "We have to let the rubble cool down some before we go through it.  I can say there aren't any obvious signs.  Besides the arson there aren't signs of a struggle, like mussed up grass or spent shells, things like that."  He spit on the ground.  "Wouldn't surprise me if the place was full of bodies.  It's a crazy world."
        Within my hiding place I sat and wondered the same thing they were wondering, but with a little more knowledge.  Was this Gina's diversion or had Joy gotten herself loose and started the fire to cover up my escape?  Or, did someone try to kill me?  When I overheard Gleason's men talking I didn't know what they meant.  The one guy began to say, "If we were smart we would –"   Maybe that's why Joy didn't expose my escape.  All scenarios aside, I was glad to be free.
        For a moment I had a chilling thought.  Everyone in the world thought I was dead, besides Joy of course.  I didn't have to get to Adam, not really, I could quietly disappear.  No I couldn't.  Sammy had to be rescued now, and Gleason still needed to pay.
        I sat cross-legged waiting for them to clear out, anxious to get on the road.  As I waited I thought about what to do because I really didn't know where I was, only that I needed to head North.  With no food, clothing or shelter I knew I didn't have many choices.  Sammy and Gina hitchhiked without getting killed, hopefully I would have the same results.  That's if I could even get picked up.  That fireman was right, it was a crazy world, only crazier than he knew.
        Time was ticking away and I grew impatient.  It didn't seem like a good idea to go through the woods a bit, then head down the road because I didn't want to be questioned.  It could be dangerous to get picked up with no identification near a known arson fire.  Damn, it would be getting dark in a few hours and I didn't welcome the thought of stumbling around unknown dirt roads in complete darkness but people kept coming and going looking around and talking with each other.  The chief left quite a while ago, his wife was in labor.  I couldn't even imagine my legs up in the stirrups, feeling excruciating pain while my mate was out fighting a fire.  It must happen all the time though.  Chris was now in charge and I wished I could encourage him to start fresh in the morning.  It didn't look like much was getting done anyway.  The side buildings had been searched, as well as the portions of the lawn.  Yellow tape hung from the edge of the woods to the road.
        During our wait Prozac had been pretty good about keeping quiet, dozing off every time I would stroke her head.  Suddenly her ears jerked up and I could feel her tail thump back and forth from inside the sweatshirt carrier I still kept her in.  I attempted to follow her line of vision to spy what exactly was provoking this reaction.  A new group of investigators were roaming around but I couldn't figure out why Prozac would act so excited.  As my eyes searched the faces of the men in one of the clusters my heart leapt.  Adam was no more than a hundred feet from me!  Now I wouldn't have to trek hundreds of miles to get to Index – here he was!  I was half way standing up before I clumped down in a heap.  Something was coming to me, something not quite right, a reason not to show myself, what?  It didn't have to do with Adam.  I was sure he could smooth things over with the locals because after all, many of them could actually be aliens.  What the hell was it?  Gleason.  He said something when he left, something . . . that's what it was.  He said something about Adam being close to finding them and that could only mean one thing.  Someone that Adam trusted was giving Gleason information.  Shit!  If Gleason knew I was alive then Sammy would become more of a hostage than she was now.  I didn't know what to do.
        Watching Adam move around within my grasp was brutal.  As tough as I thought I was I could feel tears drip from my eyes.  There was no way I could get Adam's attention without letting anyone else see!  He stomped to and fro with his hands in the pockets of a kacky colored trench coat, seemingly barking orders to the three men constantly with him.  He moved fast, almost as if to evade the trio who hung on his every word.  In a way it was like watching a 'train' dance where a one person led the train, and everybody else had their hands around the waist of the person before them.  Adam wore a rolled up bandanna beneath his curls and kept adjusting it as if agitated.  None of the three behind him looked familiar so I couldn't trust any of them.  I waited.
        At least an hour passed and all I could do was watch.  I wanted to scream.  Groups of people came and groups of people left but one thing was clear.  Adam was now in charge.  The fire chief returned with happy news that he was now the proud father of a nine pound seven ounce baby boy.  He had a child with him that I assumed was his daughter because he made a big deal about the fact that he had to baby sit.  She looked to be six or seven with lovely dark hair.  He promptly let go of her hand and headed off toward the back of the house leaving her standing in the middle of the lawn by herself.  Great sitter.  All the investigators followed him, leaving the little girl by herself.  Maybe this could be my break.
        I crept up to the woods edge and carefully called out, "Come back here puppy!"  Letting Prozac stray barely a foot onto the lawn.
        The girl turned, and seeing the dog she ran over with a look of pleasure on her face.  "What are ya doin' here in the woods?"  She asked me while petting Prozac's head.  She was much younger than I thought.
        "I'm playing hide and seek."  It was all that I could think of off the top of my head.
        "Can I play too?"  She asked with relief.  The poor kid seemed bored to death.
        "Okay, we'll play hide and seek, but first I want to play spies.  Have you ever played spies?"
        "Nope."
        "Spies do secret and sneaky things.  Well, first you need to sneak into somebody's car and find a pen.  Do you think you can do that?"
        "Yeah, I can get you a pen.  My Daddy has one in his shirt pocket."  She began to move away.
        "Oh, wait a minute little girl!"  I called out.  "What's your name?"
        She trotted back over.  "Madison."
        "Okay Madison.  Spies don't let other people know what their doing.  That's why we're spies, okay?  So if you ask your Daddy for a pen he might want to know why and it would ruin the game."
        "You know, your hair is long like mine but its longer."
        After a deep breath I sought my inner depths for patients.  "You're right.  See, you'll make a great spy 'cause you notice things like that."
        Her face virtually glowed with pride.  "Okay.  I'll sneak into Daddy's car."
        "Good girl!  Let's see, your code name is . . . Deia, and you need to find a pen and piece of paper to write on, got it?"
        "What's your code name?"
        "Oh, I'm double O 7 and this is Prozac."  She patted the dog's head.  "Okay, off on your mission.  You need to bring me a pen and paper without anybody seeing you."
        "Okey dokey."  She sighed as she scouted around before running across the lawn.  She disappeared for a few minutes then came running back.  "I couldn't find a pen," she panted, out of breath.  "Am I still a spy?"  She held out a few Crayolas and some opened envelopes.
        "You're the queen of spies Madison!"  I lustily reached for them.
        She held her hand back.  "Don't you mean Deia?"
        "Yes Ma'am, agent Deia!"  She smiled and handed me her loot.  "Your reward is to come into the woods and pet agent Prozac."  She leapt into our small clearing and immediately tussled around with Prozac.  I hastily grabbed the brown crayon, (the others were silver and salmon), and began to write.
 

Adam –
    Don't show this to anyone.  Gleason has someone leaking him info.  Clear everybody out of here and come back by yourself.  Prozac and I are hiding but Madison will tell you where I am if you tell her my nickname.  I promised her what Prozac loves.  This is extremely important – don't trust anyone until we talk!
 Deianira

        "Okay agent Deia, this is your assignment.  Do you know who the guy in charge is?"
        "Noo . . ."
        "He has a long coat on -"
        "The one with the snot rag tied around his head?"
        I laughed.  "That's him.  What do you like the best about him?"
        "What do you mean?  I don't like him at all."
        I had to think for a moment.  "Do you think he looks nice?"
        "Yeah . . ."  She gazed off in the direction the men disappeared to.  "He looks like him, but nice . . ."
        "In what way?"
        "He has long curly hair.  Its black like my Mamma's, but even longer than hers.  Hey – boys shouldn't have longer hair than girls.  Why's his that long?"
        Small towns, I thought.  "Because he's a spy.  Spies with long hair are really cool, and important."
        "Oh."
        "Now, your mission is to take this note to him – but – you have to pretend its not a note.  Tell him that you drew a picture of him because his hair reminded you of your Mom, okay?"
        "Why?"
        "That's top secret agent Deia, but if you complete your mission you get a candy bar."  Prozac loves candy, and only Adam would know that.
        "What kind?"  She asked, eyes wide.  Bribery will get you anywhere with kids and dogs.
        "Any kind you want, but you can't act excited or they'll know something's going on."
        "Who?"
        "The people who aren't spies can't know that we are."
        "Not even my Daddy?"
        "No, not even your Daddy."
        "Okay."
        "So after he reads the note I want you to tell him where I am – but only if you hear him say your code name –"
        "Deia?"
        "Exactly.  If he doesn't say it then don't tell him, okay?"  This was just in case the note was intercepted.  I knew the defense was weak but once again it was all I had.
        "Okay!"  She got up.
        "The other thing you need to do is remember you're a spy.  That means you can't say things like, 'what's my code name', out loud.  Just hand him the note and walk away –"
        "But my candy!"
        "I promise you'll get the candy but it will be after everyone leaves here.  Where do you get candy?"
        "The store?"
        "Right.  Oh – it's very important that you don't come back here 'cause then the others will know where our home base is.  Now don't forget, to be a good spy means that no one else will ever know that the three of us are spies."
        "Of course silly!"  She laughed.  "I'm the queen of spies!"  She emerged from the woods and after a careful peek around skipped toward the back of the house.
        This was a risky plan.  I just hoped that Adam would take the note from her.
        I was so bent in concentrating on Madison that I didn't hear anything but silence, until Prozac began a low growl and I heard a rustle of foliage from behind me.  As I turned I rapidly blinked my eyes because I knew I couldn't be seeing who I saw, not here, not now, not in this context.

        "Shhhh."  Rion whispered, seemingly not surprised at all while I sat rooted to the spot in shock.  "Who's out there?"  He asked while hunkering down next to me, absently petting the now joyful Prozac.  She had calmed when she saw that I wasn't afraid.
        "How did you know I was here?"
        "I kept seeing that little girl popping in and out of the woods; I wondered what she was doing."
        "What are you doing here?"
        "I'm here with Adam trying to find you."
        "You're here with Adam?  Why?"
        He knelt before me.  "Because I love you."  He looked out across the lawn.  "Don't get pissed, but I'm here for a bigger reason too.  The world is ready to fall apart."
        "Because of Gleason?"
        "Why else do you think Adam would stand to have me around?"
        "It would have to be something extremely important."
        "Two extremely important things – you and the world."  We sat in silence.  "Why are you hiding in the woods?"
        I told him briefly some of what had happened with Gleason and his men which led me to being presumed dead and why for the time being I was keeping it that way.  I also told him about Madison and my impromptu plan.  It felt wonderful because if the spy game didn't pan out, now Rion could let Adam know I was alive without alerting anyone's suspicion.
        It was a good feeling knowing that of all the people in the world Rion was sitting here with me and my spirits began to soar until I had a thought.  Who did I miss more, Rion or Adam?  Who would be the one I would cling to, with open arms, when it came time for that?  Looking at Rion's profile I felt an urge to reach out to touch his face just to make sure he was real.  Against my will I wondered where Eve was.  I began to feel my temples throb.
        After ten minutes the men returned from the back of the structure shaking their heads and heading toward their perspective vehicles so I assumed Madison remained the queen of spies.  I vowed that she would get a handful of candy bars in the very least.  She was so cute, you could tell that she tried really hard not to look over in my direction but I could see the glance.  It didn't matter though, I was proud of her.  If I ever had kids I'd want them to be like her, she was a gem.  They all drove away, Adam included.
        I broke the silence.  "So if everything goes along to plan Adam should return alone."  Rion stared ahead without emotion.  "Then again, won't he wonder where you are?"  He shrugged his shoulders.  I wondered why he didn't seem happier to see me.
        "Why did you do it Deianira."  Rion's voice was controlled.  It had a tone that attempted to hide the pain that was blatantly obvious but it also seemed to want to get at the truth, which most people really don't want to know.
        "Why did I do what?"  I asked, all the while knowing that he was asking about Adam.
        "Was it revenge against me or do you genuinely care for him?"  He wasn't looking at me, maybe he couldn't, and it was apparent that either answer would hurt him.
        "Are you asking me about Adam?"  I feigned innocence, feeling guilty.
        "Yes."
        "Life is too damn complicated to say one way or the other –"
        "Do you love him?"
        I thought about it.  "Maybe.  I don't really know.  Though I can tell you right here and now I wasn't with Adam to get back at you, come on.  Everything has changed Rion.  The future doesn't look good no matter how I view it."
        "I feel the same way."  He sounded empty.  "Now that I've found you and know that you're safe I don't want to give you up but I know I can't keep you.  At this point I don't even know if you'd want me.  I never thought this day would come."
        "Where's Eve?"
        His eyes mutated into slits.  "She's in Index where she can be safe.  Thanks for throwing her in my face."
        "I'm sorry."  Maybe it was bitchy of me to do but it was my subtle way of pointing out that he had no claim on me.
        "It's odd.  Adam doesn't throw your relationship in my face, in fact, he seems sorry for me."
        I didn't know what to say.  "He was taking me back to the Moon so I jumped out of his car.  I was hurt pretty bad Rion.  As I healed Adam just seemed more acceptable –"  I hated the way I sounded, as if to justify my actions.
        "Is that how you feel about him?  He's acceptable?  What about us?  The way we loved each other was intense, as if second nature.  Where did those feelings go?"
        How could he have the nerve to act this way?  "Rion, must we dredge this shit up again?"  I drew him close to me into a huge hug that connoted his present companionship more than our past love.  "Yes, you've hurt me more than anyone on Earth.  Do I resent you?  Sometimes.  Do I still love you?  Yes.  Can we put the past behind us?  I don't know.  Can we run away to parts unknown and start new?  No."  He hugged me tighter.  "I don't know what's going to happen but I do know I'm glad to see you.  For whatever that's worth."
        "It's worth everything to me."
        He made no move to let me go even though I loosened up my grip feeling somewhat claustrophobic at the close contact.  The smell of the woods was an olfactory trigger for my memory to return.  After we had lashed ourselves to the tree we proceeded to undress very carefully and after some heavy kissing and touching, decided that we ought to climb down before we killed ourselves.  Oh, what a strange sensation it was to climb down in the darkness, feeling the tree with naked skin, knowing once we reached the ground we would begin touching each other again . . . the sleeping bags were hastily pulled out of the tent and brought next to the fire and we looked at each other with a realization that everything was about to change between us.  The commitment which sex brought was on our minds, the possibility of pregnancy, but more so the sharing of unbelievable passion, a new reason to love someone more than you thought possible, especially since this was a mutual first voyage of expectation.  As two inexperienced virgins we did pretty well, mostly because we told each other what we liked best as it was happening, even though we were a little embarrassed.  It was the beginning of a long and wonderful sex life and the forest smell brought it all back to me with a vengeance that was worse than need.  Rion must have sensed it too because I could feel his head shift positions from laying on my shoulder to his lips gently caressing my neck.  Scientists say that when a female dog is in heat she releases pheromones, some smelly chemicals that male dogs pick up on and pursue.  Maybe Rion picked up on mine.  I closed my eyes because I wanted to be blind.  The smell of the foliage was now secondary in comparison to the smell of Rion and as enticing as it was, all I could picture was Adam striding about with his trench coat and bandanna, searching for me with desperation; then Gleason's feeling of forceful desperation was as apparent as a wave of nausea.  I couldn't do this.
        "Rion, stop."  I broke away, pushing myself back a few yards with my feet like a clumsy crab walk.  All I could feel was guilt and disgust now that the passion wore off.  At this moment I hated Adam, Gleason and Rion for putting me in this position.  "I need to go move around."  Now that the investigators had gone I felt safe enough to leave the woods, especially now that I knew Rion was here.  He followed Prozac and I as we approached the still smoldering house.
        "So what do you think caused the fire?"  He asked me, breaking the ominous silence.
        "I heard the fire chief tell the cops that it was obviously arson.  Now who the arsonist is, I couldn't say."  There was still quite a bit of heat coming off the embers and Prozac kept well away from the wreckage.  "By the time I got back to the edge of the woods everyone was just watching it burn with the assumption I was still inside.  I'd bet everyone else got out because I didn't see any rescue attempts nor hear anybody comment on occupants, other than me."
        "Sammy must be in hell right now."
        "Yeah, that's something I don't want to think about."  We walked toward the rear of the house where the ammunition sheds were.  "Sammy involved herself with Gleason in a relationship during our time here – today she saw what he was really like."
        "Adam told me he can be evil.  Do you think he'll hurt her?"
        He sure hurt me.  I kicked aside some long grass not looking for anything in particular.  "He punched her dead in the face today Rion, then gently helped her into his Jeep.  I think it will depend on what the stakes are.  Tell me what their conflict is."
        "All I really know is Gleason wants more power as far as their coalition is concerned.  Adam doesn't really confide in me.  He wanted to go all out, get as many people looking for you as possible.  The only reason that I'm here is that he wanted you found and he knew I would do anything."
        I looked away.  Being in the open like this made me feel apprehensive after the imprisonment.  "Maybe we should go back into the woods until Adam gets here.  I just don't feel safe in the open like this."
        "Did they hurt you Deia?  I've never seen you so afraid yet this aggressive before."  His face reflected the sunlight making his hair appear blond.  Had I ever known this man?  I asked myself.  His over-caring tone grated on my nerves.
        "Gleason will pay for his actions Rion.  That's all I will ever say about this subject; do you understand?"  The force of my own voice shocked me.  I was sick of being controlled, tired of being the victim and was sure as hell not going to take on the role of damsel in distress.  Before he could answer we heard a vehicle approaching so we scurried into the woods.  I placed Prozac back into the sweatshirt and she wasn't happy about it.
        A light grey Lexus pulled up, screeching to a stop.  Both doors opened, with Adam and a tall bald man getting out.
        "Who's he?"  I whispered to Rion.  "The note told him to come back alone."
        "He's his bodyguard.  Adam never goes anywhere without him."
        "Can we trust him?"
        "Adam seems to.  We probably won't have a choice."
        Once Adam hit the lawn he began to call my name insistently.  Prozac bolted from my grasp running ahead to him.  I followed without looking back at Rion.  This was the moment of reckoning.

        "We're here Adam."  I crashed through the brush to see Prozac yipping around him like a long lost buddy which was strange because she didn't seem to like him when we were  together before.  "Prozac – come!"  I commanded, restoring my control over her in the hopes that I could control my emotions.  She trotted over to me all wags and happy.  I watched Adam closing the gap between us; he no longer wore his trench-coat.
        "My Deianira!  How good it is to behold you!"  He gushed.  I allowed him to embrace me, though felt out of place doing so before an audience.  There was also a repellency to being touched, even casually, as if my space were invaded.  When I hugged Rion minutes before, it was by my choice, and Adam's embrace was his.  As much as I missed both Adam and Rion now that they were here together both vying for my attention, it was enough to make my head pound.  Adam took my face in his hands.  "Gleason never would have let you go freely.  What did you do, burn down the house to get away?"
        "Not quite.  Why didn't you come alone as I asked?"  I leered at the bald headed man.  "Can you trust this clown?"
        "I do every day – with my life."
        "Do you know who gave Gleason his information?"  I said, not taking my eyes off the bald man.
        "No, but I know it was not David."  Adam pronounced his name Daa vede.  "Gleason has made attempts on my life, I was lucky to escape from his men at the airport; there are few places that I venture without David.  It will be worse now that he does not have you –"
        "Gleason doesn't know she's alive."  Rion's voice echoed loudly behind me.  I half turned, still partly in Adam's arms, just to see how well he was taking this.  He looked calm.
        I disentangled myself from Adam to explain, and to stress the importance of keeping my being alive a secret because of Sammy.  Adam watched me with hunger in his eyes and I could barely perceive a likeness between him and Gleason, which involuntarily made me shudder as I flashed back to the feeling of having my arms strained above my head while fleshy digits sought their goal.  Gleason kept away from me during my captivity, never entering the room in my presence so to see his partial likeness made me cringe.  I shook my head to rid my mind of the scene.
        "What's the matter with you?"  I heard Adam ask and could see the same question reflected in Rion's eyes and in David's as well.  For a moment I felt more trapped here in the open expanse of lawn than I had felt in my time held here or even my imprisonment on the Moon.  My eyes wildly sought a focal point, some safe subject to focus on as I desperately filled my lungs with air to compensate for the feeling of being submerged under an ocean.
        "Just back off!"  I whispered hoarsely, wanting to escape their looks of wonder and concern.  There they stood, a judicial triumvirate, ready to pronounce sentencing for a crime I didn't commit.  As much as I fought to keep my tough demeanor I felt near hysteria cloud my judgment.  I sat down hard on the grass pulling my legs up to my chin and burying my face in the darkness.  Reality was getting away from me no matter how I fought; I just wanted to hide.
        "What did they do to you?"  I could hear Adam demand as he gripped my shoulders.  It helped to calm me.
        "I – am – fine."  Each word stood as its own sentence with heavy accentuation.  My breath wasn't as labored and the numbness I had been feeling subsided, plus the tears seeped back into their ducts.
        "What happened?"  Adam repeated insistently.
        "Nothing."  The word sounded flat and meaningless so I added, "How the fuck would you react after being kidnaped twice in one year?"  I accused.  "I don't want to talk about it."
        Adam sat before me, placing his hand on my leg.  I pulled away not wanting to be touched.  He stared at me for a moment, this time it was he who sounded accusatory.  "There has to be more."
        "I'm not going to talk about it."  I reiterated, catching Rion's eye.  He knew.  How could he know?
        Adam looked over at Rion then back at me.  "Did he –"  My gaze never wavered as I stared indifferently into his aqua emulating eyes.  The warm air ceased to move for a moment, making us seem statuesque.  Christa's statue of me briefly flashed in my mind.  Adam suddenly broke the spell, punching the ground around him.  "He raped you.  That bastard will be tortured – disemboweled!"
        I didn't know what to do.  It's not as if I wanted to keep the attack a secret; it was just the nature of the violation not to want it to be known.  "Adam, I think you should calm down – please."  The pleading desperation in my voice aggravated me.  I looked around and saw Rion walking off toward the woods shaking his head while David stood nearby, impassive.  "Adam –"  I crawled toward him attempting to silence his pummeling.  He stopped hitting the ground but continued to thrash around in my arms.  "Joy stopped him!"  I shouted.  "Do you hear me?  She stopped him!"  His thrashing nearly ceased and he hugged me as his lips mouthed words that couldn't be uttered.  "I just want to leave this place."  I told him, sounding dead, as I pulled myself up, breaking his grasp, then wandering toward the car.  "Just want to leave . . ."
        "Deianira –"  Adam's pain came ripping through with the simple utterance of my name.
        Whirling about, I faced the three men.  "I will never speak of this again unless I bring it up.  Never!  I didn't want this!"  I screamed at them.  "I didn't want your anger or your pain or those pitying looks you keep throwing at me!  This has nothing to do with you – nothing!  It's between Gleason and I and I am the victim – the one who seeks retribution."  I called toward Prozac, who, frightened, cowered in the grass.  "Let's get the hell out of here."  As that sentence came out I saw with surprise a tractor trailer rolling up the road, with a young black girl waving out the passenger window.  As glad as I was to see who I suspected to be Gina, I was more concerned about Prozac, who had run out into the road.  Before I could scream I heard the squeal of the brakes.
 
 

        If I lost Prozac at that moment I don't think I could have gone on; it would have broken me.  Lucky for us Gordy was a great driver, avoiding the puppy, the Lexus and me.  By then I was ready to just scream so after hasty introductions we motored away from the charred house, deciding to leave the area to regroup.  This meant another trip, to home.  We drove to XXXXXXXXXXXXXX airport, but not in time to make any flights to Albany; so we had to wait until morning.  Adam checked us all into the Marriot, each with our own room.
         Decisions needed to be made anyway, first of which Gina and Gordy had to decide what they were going to do.  Once hearing of Sammy's plight, Gina threw herself into the ring with a loyalty I wished I felt.  As much as I knew I loved Sammy, her betrayal took its toll.  Gordy on the other hand, had a job to do; he couldn't go traipsing around the country; he was due in Boston with a load of furniture.  He swore he would contact us in Index once he could get away from his job, so he left us within the hour.  I could tell Gina was sorry to see him go, though I couldn't say that I blamed her; she didn't know any of us and  hadn't been treated well by the aliens in the past.  I immediately asked Adam what would happen to her now as I readied myself to defend her with whatever power over him that I had, but he said she would be granted clemency now that they had an issue in common.  Gina obviously didn't trust him, she and Sammy must have formed a deep bond for her to be here, though she didn't act as if she had anywhere else to go.  It was easy for me to empathize.
        I really liked Gina; she told you exactly what she felt when she felt it.  The first thing she did when she jumped from the truck was to hug me and tell me that I hardly looked like Sammy at all, though she saw her in my nose, whatever that meant, and to comment on the stench of the fire.  She gave Rion a focused glance and I honestly felt jealous.  Hating myself for my feelings, I prodded everyone to leave.  I need not have worried, Sammy had plenty of time to fill her in on the triangle that formed, though at the time neither of them knew I involved myself with Adam.
        Gina was beautiful, with a slim, though slightly chunky figure and long curly black hair.  Her attitude was the most attractive attribute though, she stood proud and self-reliant against seemingly immovable forces, as I had.  Maybe she started that feeling in me way back on the Moon.  As I thought back to our early conversations through our cell walls I had to wonder if her initial attitude gave me the subconscious strength to fight.  I would probably never know for sure, but I thanked her silently anyway.
        We all congregated in Adam's room, that is, myself, Adam, Rion, David and Gina.  Prozac was sleeping in my room; I didn't want to get caught with her in the hallway so I left her behind – first time in weeks.  Once again dogs weren't allowed.  It was time for Adam to enlighten the rest of us; we had a ton of questions.  He explained that when they came to Earth it was agreed that basic assimilation would be the best for everyone, though there were those who didn't agree.  He explained, World domination wasn't an aspiration for any of them, at first.  Once they began settling into their different societies, it was easy to see that some aliens grew more prosperous than others and a council formed to ensure the future would remain peaceful.  Problems arose, certain aliens became enthralled by the possibilities that existed, especially if one were corrupt to not only the rules of the council, but to the laws of the societies – and sometimes the laws of nature.  I couldn't help thinking how anthropomorphic the aliens really were.  Separate factions formed, though still within the umbrella of the council, then some factions defected.  There wasn't any faction strong enough to divulge the secret that they shared, but each attempted to gain enough resources to do so, weaponry and cash were the most important.  The council reacted with a single statement – if the factions persisted they would be destroyed – by their own race.
        That's what happened to one faction.  Adam explained that this particular faction subsisted as if it were a religious cult, that to outside viewers it wasn't strange for these people to band together and isolate themselves in the name of God.  It was never even questioned.  Of course this cult never believed in the Earth's Judeo-Christian God, but it was convenient.  When they began to amass their armaments the closest neighbors began to talk and they lived miles away.  The council was watching, and when it saw a justifiable way of stopping this faction it did it.  High ranking government officials were members of the council, I learned, and a raid was planned that ended in a stand off.  The media, through all its digging and delving never knew the secret: that these weren't members of some religious cult, these were aliens who planned to take over the Earth.
        This end result did have an effect on a few factions who agreed not to continue their quests, even disbanding and settling down.  That left two renegade factions for the council to deal with.  The first was mildly dangerous because the leader was only fourteen with followers in grade school and the council figured with time these children could be swayed without violent means.  Gleason's faction on the other hand, was the last threat to peace and they grew into formidable opponents.  The council determined my abduction a brilliant strategy, knowing that would be the only way the head of the council, Adam, would make concessions.  He had decided to scour the planet first before succumbing to Gleason's demands, first of which was a blanket media blitz to inform the human race they were not alone.  The council vehemently opposed this measure, hoping that several generations from now the aliens might never know of their origins.
        We listened to the rosy portrait Adam described when he spoke of the council and himself; it wasn't long before Gina spoke up.
        "Who do you think you're fooling?"  She boldly asked Adam.  "You act like your bunch are cool – you're no better than your brother."  All eyes focused on her.  "What about the slaves on the Moon?"  She held her wrist up and strode toward Adam confronting him with a scar across her left forearm.  "Some of your buddies did this to me – and worse to others who fought.  What about that, Mister high and mighty?"  Adam looked away.  "Shit – your hands are just as dirty -"
        "The Moon compound is different – there aren't even a thousand captives -"
        She sneered and got in his face.  "So you think you're not guilty because you abuse a thousand people and Gleason wants to abuse billions?"  Her finger poked into his face.  "If you were one of the thousand you'd know how hypocritical you sound.  I'm outa here."  She stalked toward the door and threw it open, not bothering to close it.
        "She is right."  Adam sighed as he closed the door.  "Tyranny over a few is as horrific as tyranny over many.  Something will have to be done about the Moon but for now we need to stop Gleason or philosophical sentiments will mean nothing whatsoever."  He sat on the bed watching my facial expressions.  "What do you think, Deianira?"  He asked me.
        "I think I'm tired."  I honestly told him as I stood.  "The bed in my room is going to feel like heaven; its calling to me."  He nodded his head.  "Before I leave I need to ask you, why didn't you tell me about Gleason from the beginning?"
        "Honestly I had hoped the whole situation would have been resolved by now.  Of course I never expected him to kidnap you otherwise I certainly would have –"
        "I know that.  Why Joy would ingratiate herself with Gleason if domination is his goal; she didn't seem the type."
        Adam's face flashed melancholy for a brief instant.  "Joy hates Christa, Christa hates Joy, and in the very least they distrust each other's motives.  I secretly hope that Joy will control Gleason before he is destroyed –"
        Christa again, I knew I had to assess her involvement once and for all.  "I don't know Adam.  Joy's attitude was one of noninvolvement but when it came to important matters she got involved.  She knows I'm alive and didn't tell him."
        "Let us hope she keeps this secret.  I will contact the council this evening and determine the best course of action."  I started toward the door.  "Wait!"  Adam exclaimed, stopping me in my tracks.  "There is an issue to be dealt with forthright.  You need a bodyguard."
        I turned and faced him bleary eyed.  "I don't want a bodyguard."
        Rion finally spoke up.  "It doesn't matter what you want.  You need protection."
        Adam gave him a sideways glance but concurred; I would have no choice so I asked, "Who's this bodyguard supposed to be?"
        Adam looked at David who responded he had quite a few men for the job but for some reason I didn't trust David and sure as hell didn't want one of his flunkies following me everywhere.  "There is only one way I'll agree to a bodyguard."  I firmly told the three men in the room, "I want to choose him."  Walking to the door, I half turned and said, "I want Fadine as my guard."
        "Who the hell is Fadine?"  Rion asked,
        "If you think that green recruit could protect you, you are a fool."  Adam barked.
        David leaned back in his chair with a half grin.  "He does have potential."  Was his only comment.
        I turned the knob and said over my shoulder, "Believe me, I can protect myself.  But if you want me to have a baby-sitter it will be one I can trust."

        At ten A.M. we boarded our flight for Albany, Fadine would meet us in Index.  We sat in our perspective moods, each of us happy and sad in our personal ways.  As I looked about the plane it was difficult to focus on one particular stream of thought, so much had happened and was going to happen that the present almost ceased to exist.  Gina sat next to me peering from the frosty porthole of a window not conversing at all.  When she did speak to any of us she was reserved.  It would take her a while to trust us, even me.  I could see the back of Rion's head if I looked two rows ahead of me, the way his hair flattened against the seat from the weight of his head like a bird being crushed by its prey.  How had everything changed so much?  Even a glance across the aisle at Adam's dozing figure failed to inspire the same feelings I had longed to feel not even a few weeks ago when held by Gleason.  Would I ever feel again?  I asked myself as I closed my eyes.  These were people that I could count on – could trust with my very life – yet I wasn't comfortable.  There was no doubt that I loved these two men, that was painfully obvious, there was just a part of me that was shut down, dormant, like a flea in cold weather.  It just seemed I had a job to do and until it was done my emotions would be on hold.  Did I feel this way because I was actively premeditating mortal harm towards Gleason?  Is this what it feels like to go to war knowing that you would probably have to kill someone?  I opened my eyes and signaled for the stewardess.  No, this wasn't war, this was assassination.  The barbie doll like stewardess brought me a Dr. Pepper and disappeared down the aisle.  It would be good to be home.
        When the plane touched down it didn't seem as eventful as it should.  Fulfilled wishes are always a letdown I reminded myself as I fetched my meager piece of luggage.  I wondered how Prozac would like the animal sanctuary motif of our room back at Salford.  Ah, she wouldn't care one way or another.  I knew I needed some real sleep.
        It was a two hour ride from Albany to Index and we all stayed quiet.  David drove with Rion riding shotgun.  Adam, Gina and I squeezed into the back seat of the rental car and I let Adam hold my hand until I fell asleep.  When I opened my eyes we were arriving at Salford Hall and my eyes strayed toward the barn.  It seemed bizarre to pull up as if a lifetime hadn't passed since I was last in the circular drive.  It was winter then was all I could think, my mind bleary from the insufficient nap.  A bulldozer sat hunched to the left of the barn with dried earth still clinging to its tracks.  Its yellow paint job seemed to scream insanity next to the weathered gray of the barn.  It was out of place, but in my state of mind it seemed as natural as a blue cow.  Who cares?  Was a stock answer to natural questions.  Let's just get on with it.
        As soon as we got out of the car the wide front door curved open and Eve leapt out.  She embraced both Adam and Rion babbling on about making chocolate chip cookies to celebrate their arrival.  Ignoring her, I walked past, intending to go to my room and sleep.  I felt something pulling on the back of my shirt, surprised, I turned to see Eve's mouth moving erratically.  I tuned my ears from the silence to hear what she was saying.
        ". . . MY house!  And you better –"  Was all I could bear to hear.  Wrenching my shirt from her hand I whirled around staring into her puny eyes.  She stopped in mid invective, then began again.  I calmly lifted my arm and with a slow ease felt my fingers curl around her throat.  Her shocked eyes bugged out and grew large.
        "Eve, I've had about enough of you."  I stated.  No one else on the steps moved.  "If I hear your squeaky voice again I'll silence it.  I'll cut your fucking throat."  My hand pushed her backward and she stumbled.  I didn't wait for a reaction, I just led Prozac up the stairs to the third floor.  The room was a blur, though familiar, but I sought the bed.  It didn't matter that I was fully dressed and I didn't bother to change that fact, I just collapsed on the safari scene spread and closed my eyes.