*CLICK*
"This just in at the WVRN newsroom! An explosion
rocks downtown Manhattan! More details as we get them!"
*CRACKLE* *CLICK*
"This is Jonathan Wills for WVRN here at the site of the
explosion at the Manhattan 23rd police precinct. This once majestic
station, topped by its gothic-style clock tower, is now in ruins. Earlier
this night, a terrorist attack destroyed the clock tower, leaving over
30 officers injured but, thankfully, no fatalities. Witnesses claim
to have seen a plume of flame streaking towards the tower right before
the explosion. No groups have claimed responsibility for this
act at this time, but an amateur video shows that the urban myth of gargoyles
is in fact very real. You can clearly see the monstrous figures leaving
the scene shortly after the explosion. Travis, do we have that tape ready...?"
*CRACKLE* *CLICK*
"This is Nicole St. John for WVRN. Two people have
been arrested in the terrorist attack on the 23rd police precinct.
They are listed as Police Detective Jason Conover, alias Jason Canmore,
age 32, and his sister Robyn Canmore, age 28. Still at large is their
brother Jon, alias WVRN reporter Jon Carter, age 25. Police have yet to
determine the role that the mysterious gargoyles played in this tragedy;
in fact, they have yet to acknowledge the existence of these creatures.
"This incident strikes close to home for this reporter
as we've worked side by side with Jon for some time. Canmore is approximately
5 foot 9 inches tall and approximately 175 pounds with blond hair.
He is to be considered armed and dangerous. If you see him..."
*CRACKLE* *CLICK*
*****
Elisa set her copy of the New York Sentinel aside to check
her watch. The smell of burgers and fries filled the coffee shop
and reminded her how long it had been since she had her last meal. She
looked out the windows. Still seeing no sign of her father, she signaled
to the waitress for another cup of coffee, picked up her paper and continued
reading the front page. At least the Sentinel seemed to be giving
Goliath and the clan a fair shake.
The waitress returned a moment later and refilled her
coffee. Elisa thanked the woman and just stared at the paper.
She was dead tired after the last couple of days and it didn't look like
things were going to settle down any time soon. There was a small
television behind the counter. Several of the patrons began to gather as
the soap opera was interrupted with another "Gargoyle News Update."
She sighed and dumped three sugars in her mug, figuring she was going to
need the energy to deal with the new day.
The anchor, Travis Marshall, was as polished as ever.
Straining to hear over the sparse crowd of early morning patrons, Marshall
finished his comments. The scene cut over to a young, blond and willowy
woman who was standing slightly apart from the other reporters in front
of the mayor's office. She looked like she had been up for days,
but was trying to put across a pulled-together look. She'd seen a
network anchorman do something similar in Sarejevo once, but then heard
later from a friend who worked on the camera crew that he'd actually been
carefully made up to appear both disheveled and professional. From
what she heard about St. John, Elisa wouldn't put it past her to try something
like that. She put aside her cynical analysis and listened to the
report.
"Thanks, Travis. This is Nicole St. John in front
of City Hall. We are waiting for Jose Hablar, New York City Chief
of Staff. After a rather profound silence, City Hall is finally making
a statement about the 23rd Precinct station bombing, the attack on the
St. Damian Cathedral, and the long awaited confirmation about the gargoyles.
Long believed to be just another urban myth, the fact that these monsters
are real has the usually unflappable New York citizens scared.
"Over the past year, stories of gargoyle attacks have
been reported and become more frequent in the past months, but much like
the 'alligator in the sewers', have largely been ignored by the police.
City officials have been promising an official statement since this horror
began, but have not yet released any information."
Elisa turned back to study her paper again; the contrast
between the back-to-basics newspaper and the biased television appeared
starker than ever. Finishing the article, she set the paper aside
and picked up the menu. After a moment, she decided on the half-pound
green chili cheeseburger and onion rings just as she caught sight of her
father pushing past the crowd of TV watchers and waved him over.
"Dad! Over here!" She stood and briefly embraced
him before calling for the waitress again.
The waitress ("Dolly," Elisa noticed mechanically) set
a second mug down in front of Peter Maza and refilled Elisa's cup before
asking if they were ready to order. Elisa rattled off her order.
Her father told Dolly to make it two. Picking up the coffeepot, she
headed back to the kitchen.
"Does your mother know you still order food like that?"
Peter asked his daughter, knowing how strict his wife was about good eating.
"More importantly," she replied grinning, "does Mom know
that _you're_ still ordering food like that? You know what she says
about that..."
"Peter Maza, what do you think you're doing?" he said
in a fair impersonation of his wife. "That stuff'll give you a heart
attack! Here, have some nice low-fat, low-cholesterol food.
You'll live longer." His daughter chorused him as he said "If you
die, don't you come running to me!" They both looked at each other
and broke up laughing.
"All right, kiddo," he said, sounding nothing like Edward
G. Robinson and wiping away the tears of laughter, "you got me. I
won't squeal on you if you don't rat on me, see?"
"Deal." She smiled at him, but could see the fatigue
underneath the cheer. She knew without looking that her father was
examining her with a critical eye. She feinted and changed the subject
before he could really start in on her. "How is Mom anyway?
And Beth? I haven't had heard from either of them recently."
"Your mother's on another book tour, this time for her
_African Tales and Legends_. As for Beth, I got a call from her just
last night. She was so excited she almost couldn't get the news out."
"Really?" Elisa asked, her curiosity peaked.
"What has my little sister gotten herself into _this_ time?"
"She entered the American Ethnology Society's essay contest.
She won first prize."
"Wow! Seems she took after Mom more than either
Derek or me. What'd she win?"
"They're going to publish her essay in their magazine.
You'll soon be seeing 'The Relevance of North American Mythology in Today's
World' by Beth Maza on a
newsstand near you."
"That's wonderful! No wonder Beth was excited.
I guess our meeting Coyote in Arizona wasn't a bad thing after all."
Elisa knew she had blown it as the humor drained from
her father's face and a look of concern and worry replaced it.
"Elisa, when was the last time you got any shut-eye?
You look like..."
"Well, looks like Hablar's finally letting us know what's
going on," Elisa said, pointing to the television which was showing the
reporters jockeying into position.
The restaurant suddenly got very quiet as the very dapper
Jose Hablar took the podium. Elisa couldn't help but shake her head.
She had seen this guy pulled out of bed at three in the morning and he
managed to look just as turned out as he did at noon. Today he was
clad in a dark gray suit that made him look serious and yet at the same
time was cut to guarantee he would win another placement on the 10 best
dressed list.
"Ladies and Gentleman of the Press, Fellow New Yorkers,
I want to assure you first of all that we are confident that this most
recent terrorist threat is ended. The police force is doing their
utmost to ensure the capture of Jon Canmore and eliminate this threat to
the safety. New York, once again, is safe. Now, any questions?"
"Mr. Hablar," A blonde woman in the front demanded, "what
is the city's reaction to the existence of the gargoyles?"
Hablar began to look slightly less unflappable, but still
was able to maintain his composure with ease. "The mayor is hard
at work formulating a plan to study this Gargoyle situation with the detail
that it deserves..."
Elisa turned her attention back to her father and the
cup of coffee that was cooling in front of her. She took a healthy swallow
and noticed that the look of concern never left her father's face.
"Dad, really, I'm fine!" she protested. "I've just been
a little busy lately, missed some sleep and a few meals." ~Not to
mention falling off a dam, being pulled several miles down river and almost
dying,~ she thought to herself. "I'll catch up when things cool down.
Promise!" She tried to look reassuring. "Come on Dad, every
cop in the city is on alert. We _all_ look like this right now. It's
not like you didn't have some times like this before you retired."
She was saved for the moment from making further protests
when Dolly returned with a laden tray and began to distribute burgers and
condiments. They spent the next several minutes concentrating on
the food in front of them. But Peter continued to watch his daughter with
a pensive look on his face.
"I wanted to talk to you about that," he began tentatively.
"What? My work habits or your retiring?" Elisa asked
around a mouth full of ketchup-soaked onion ring.
"Both. You know, ever since I went back to help Beth with
Xanatos and that Coyote Carving and mended my fences with Dad, I've been
thinking. Maybe it's time to go home." He paused a moment. "To Arizona.
All of us."
"What?!" Elisa stopped, stared at her father and slowly
put her burger back on her plate.
"I'm serious about this, Elisa. Maybe it's time
to get out of New York. It's always been a challenge living here, but now
it's downright dangerous. I want the family safe. I want you safe. Are
you really willing to continue to risk your life for these 'friends' of
yours?"
The blood began to roar in Elisa's ears as her father
looked at her pleadingly. A small part of her mind thought that perhaps
now was not the time to tell her father about recent developments in her
romantic life. Another part of her thought that maybe he was right.
Maybe a bit of normality was what she needed. She understood that
he was concerned for her safety, but knew that she couldn't leave her life
here. Even as tired as she was feeling she knew that this had to
be settled here and now.
"Dad, I have a life and responsibilities here. I
can't just leave it." She paused. "And what about Derek and
Maggie? What about all of those who depend on them? This is
their fight too, y'know. One of the things that you taught us was
to never run away from a fight." She sighed inwardly as she saw the look
on her father's face and realized she'd won.
"Looks like I taught you too well." He lowered his
eyes. "It's just so _frustrating_ knowing that you're going to be
right in the middle of this thing and that I can't protect you."
He looked straight into her eyes, his pain evident. "I don't care if you're
the best marksman in the precinct or if you have Goliath to protect you.
You will always be my little girl."
"Oh, Dad." Elisa clasped her hands around his, giving
him a smile she didn't feel. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
On the TV, Hablar continued to take a beating. The
questions were getting more and more speculative. A short balding
man from one of the tabloids was asking if all gargoyle type statues were
suspects in the recent disturbances, and was it true that the effects of
acid rain were being studied, in relation to how these statues had come
to life in the first place. The unflappable Hablar finally lost it.
He ignored the man's question and announced that the Mayor's Office would
reply from now on with written statements only. He left the podium
and walked to the safety of the office behind him. Elisa recognized
a figure standing in the background: the new Sentinel Police Beat
reporter Jerry Pearson, frantically scribbling notes. She wondered what
his spin on events would be; the article he had written on the gargoyles
was pretty fair. He seemed like a pretty nice guy and his dusky good
looks certainly were easy on the eyes. The gargoyles were going to
need a friend in the media; maybe getting to know Pearson better wouldn't
be a bad idea, she mused. If his opinion could be swayed...
When she looked back at her father he had composed himself
once more. "It will be all right," she soothed. "Somehow everything
will be all right." She thought of the brief kiss she had shared
with Goliath and hope she wasn't deluding herself.
They finished their meal in hurried silence. Peter pushed
his burger around the plate as Elisa cleared hers. She glanced at her watch
and groaned.
"Dad, I've got to leave now or I'll be late meeting Matt."
She pulled cash out of her billfold and signaled the waitress. Peter
started to protest, but she snagged the bill and pressed the cash into
the woman's hand. She kissed Peter on the forehead quickly and strode
out into the dwindling afternoon sun. He watched her carefully checking
the street and the pedestrians around her as she disappeared from view.
Peter was thinking about leaving also, when the anchor
cut back in over the last few minutes of the soap opera. The crowd
groaned, but like witnesses to a train wreck, they crowded back around
the television set. He settled back in the vinyl booth and signaled Dolly
for more coffee. The scene on the screen shifted to the nighttime clip
of the gargoyles departing the scene at St. Damian's in a black unmarked
helicopter. He had a reasonable guess as to where the next feed would
be coming from and was rewarded with a view of the Eyrie building and Mr.
Owen Burnett.
"Looks like the lackeys are out in force today," a familiar
voice mused cynically.
Peter looked up startled. "Morgan, you old son of a gun!
How have you been?" He was genuinely pleased to see his old friend. But
Elisa was right. There wasn't a cop on the force that didn't look like
hell, Morgan included. He waved Dolly back over and started a fresh
tab.
Morgan accepted the coffee and apple pie that Dolly brought
over with a shadow of his usual cheery smile. ~He must be a regular,~
Peter thought, ~for her to know his habits like this.~
He was confirmed two for two when Dolly pulled her order
pad out of her apron pocket. "The usual, Officer?" She said
it with a familiarity that suggested nightly routine.
Morgan nodded. "And Dolly, keep the coffee coming. It's
going to be a long night."
Peter had to admit that he was as curious as the rest
about what Burnett would say to the press. It seemed that the ties
between David Xanatos and his own family was going to get tighter and he
was not particularly pleased with the notion. They had gotten a phone
call from the man himself a week or so back. He'd never found out what
the man wanted, though -- Diane had answered the phone, listened long enough
to find out who was on the other side of the line then hung up, with a
look that spoke volumes. She had then hounded him to find the little book
the phone company had sent out that had instructions on how to block calls
from specific phone numbers.
Morgan's attention had been drawn to the television as
well, delaying any possible conversation. He sipped his coffee and focused
on the officious blond man behind the microphone.
"Ladies and Gentleman of the Press, I have a short statement
to make."
He straightened himself a fraction and prepared to speak.
He was interrupted by someone in the press corps. "Will you be answering
questions after you make your statement?" a baritone voice rumbled.
Burnett shot a withering gaze at a portly man in the third
row. "Doubtful," he replied. "Now if I may be allowed to continue?"
The press corps settled down like a group of sullen children
before their schoolmaster. It was an interesting contrast to the
circus that had surrounded City Hall's press flack earlier. The camera
closed in on Burnett close enough to see the exquisite tailoring of the
man's suit and the glimpse of the red silk power tie.
"It has been speculated by some of the media agencies
that Mr. David Xanatos or employees of Xanatos Industries, Xanacorp, or
one of the other subsidiary operations was somehow involved in the escape
of the creatures known as gargoyles, during the events of the evening of
October 26th. I wish to categorically deny any such involvement. On October
24th, the FAA notified Xanatos Industries of possible mechanical hazard
related to a defective rotor housing. This was the same defect that was
responsible for the crash that killed several members of the Cyberlink
board of directors approximately two months ago. Rather than risk
a repeat of that tragedy, all helicopters of the XI-2000 class were taken
off-line for a thorough inspection of system and possible repair. Copies
of the reports are available to members of the press at their convenience."
He
paused. "Further more, Mr. Xanatos has no personal desire to involve
himself with anything that might disturb the tranquility of his home. From
all accounts, involvement with these so-called gargoyles sounds as if it
would be anything but tranquil. Mr. Xanatos reminds you that he resides
with his wife and young son, and that their safety and well being will
always be his paramount concern." He looked up from his prepared statement.
"That will be all, ladies and gentlemen. Good Afternoon."
He left the podium without another word and the scene
cut abruptly back to the station's newsroom. The cook, however, had
apparently heard enough. "Dolly! Find me something that isn't the news
or shut that box off. It's upsetting my ulcer!"
The screen went blank and the counter patrons dispersed
back to their respective places. Dolly brought a brimming plate of
hot turkey sandwich and mashed potatoes and set it in front of Morgan.
He smiled at her gratefully and dug in.
"Morgan, how often do you see Elisa these days?"
Peter tried to ask as casually as he could muster.
"Checking up on your little girl again, aren't you?" Morgan's
words made it sound like Elisa was fifteen again, and Peter wished for
a moment that she was.
He looked away from Morgan's dark features and nodded.
"I just worry about her. She's managed to take on some pretty tough
customers during the past year or so. She looked..." Words failed
him for a moment, and he paused. "Keep an eye on her for me, will you?"
Morgan shook his head and laughed. The sound was low and
musical and only added to Peter's discomfort. "I won't promise anything,
but I'll do what I can. One overprotective father to another."
Peter nodded his thanks. "I owe you one."
"Take it out of all the ones I owe you," Morgan said as
he looked at his watch and donned his cap. "Time to go make the streets
safe." He sighed and stared into the last of the dwindling afternoon
sunlight. "I can't imagine things getting crazier then they have been,
but I never had much imagination. Take care, Peter." He traded a
few remarks with Dolly who was now behind the cash register, settled his
tab and departed, leaving Peter to his own thoughts.
*****
Elisa frowned as she listened to the matter-of-fact tones
of Owen Burnett. Despite the assurances she had given her father, she was
bone-weary and her patience had frayed to the breaking point.
"Well, you can tell Xanatos to keep his security system,
because I don't need any of _HIS_ help!"
Owen's tone was infinitely calm as he replied to her protestations.
"Mister Xanatos is afraid he must insist in his offer. He still feels a
debt of gratitude to a 'mutual friend' for his helping to save young Alexander."
Owen droned on, his calm and monotone voice filling Elisa with frustration
and anger. "He feels that you are presently in danger, and Mister Xanatos
only wishes to help our `mutual friends' by seeing to your safety."
"Tell him he can save it, and do me the favor of not hurting
them any further than he already has!" Elisa erupted. "_HE'S_ the one who
created The Pack, _HE'S_ the one who forced them into leaving the castle
in the first place... _HE'S_ the one who paid Servarius to..."
Elisa broke off, the words choking in her throat. The
silence on the other end allowed her the momentary hope that Owen might
empathize with her. But the moment ended and he began again. "Detective
Maza, make any preparations you wish. However, Mister Xanatos plans to
have your new safety features ready to install within the week."
"Can't you get it through your thick skull?!" Elisa yelled
into the phone. "I said `NO!'" Without waiting for Owen to
say more, Elisa stabbed at the button, and hung up the phone. Leaving the
headset on the table instead of back on its cradle, Elisa picked up the
keys and got up to leave for work, locking the door behind her. She
had no time to sit there and argue with Burnett. She had just meant to
dash in to pick up a thing or two after her talk with Dad at the coffee
shop, and now it was off to work for the night.
That is, if you could call chaos "work."
It was nearly six o'clock by the time she reached the
station. The firemen had jammed stakes into the street and strung fencing
across them, with police tape wrapped all over it. There was stone debris
everywhere. For an idle moment, she wondered if any of the small bits might
be pieces of stone gargoyle skin.
"Aw, come on! You don't understand! There's a reason it
was in the safe! You'll dig out the chief's files, but this could be just
as important!" As Elisa pulled into a nearby parking spot, she could make
out Matt's pleading voice, filtered through all the sounds of the traffic
and noise on the street. The fireman he was talking to seemed to shrug
at all the complaining, but surrendered to go do what Matt asked him anyway.
"Bluestone! There's another person on the phone for you
about the Gargoyle Task Force!" Chavez's voice floated clearly above the
noise.
Captain Chavez was about, as usual, desperately trying
to oversee the crisis of losing her station building. The way she
was still limping around made Elisa sure that the doctor had not authorized
her mobility. Morgan was here too, hauling boxes. It looked like
none of the firemen were allowing anyone inside the building -- probably
too dangerous. Water was being sprayed right and left both to put out the
small fires that kept cropping up, and to keep the dust down as they tore
the place apart.
How much police work was being done? How many of them
were on the beat tonight?
Elisa threaded her way through wreckage and co-workers,
watched her partner pick up a phone, speak briefly and drop the receiver
back onto the cradle. He didn't seem happy.
"Hey, Matt. What's left?" Elisa called out.
The look on her partner's face spoke volumes and the slight
whine in his voice confirmed her instinctive take on the situation. Matt
was _not_ a happy camper.
"I'm really gonna hate this, if this is what I have to
go through to get my files, let alone my computer!" He ignored her
question utterly, intent on the recovery of his precious paperwork.
"Well, worry about them later, right now we gotta go talk
to Robyn Canmore."
Matt shrugged, dropped a small pile of papers on a makeshift
desk over by the trailers that had been brought in, and walked over by
Elisa and her car.
"Captain letting you back onto the night shift early?"
Elisa looked away. "What partner do I have during the
day? _All_ my partners are nocturnal." She paused and looked about
at the wreckage as she controlled her anger long enough to share her news.
"I got a call from our 'Lord of the Castle'."
"Mr. X? What does _he_ want?"
"He wants to upgrade the security in my apartment, and
he 'insists'."
Matt seemed to be more than a little sleep-deprived himself
and not really listening. But he picked up on the word "insists" and raised
an eyebrow. One look at Elisa's face, eyes still burning with remembered
rage, was all it took to tell him where that conversation had ended up.
He abruptly changed the subject to keep her focused on the matters at hand.
"My news is worse than that. If we're back to working
together, then we're both in charge of this 'Gargoyles Task Force'."
"Ironic, eh?" She surveyed the damage around her and thought
about what could happen if the task force ended up in the hands of someone
who had self-promotion in mind. She shook her head to clear the thought
away and gave Matt a wry smile. "At least we're the good guys. What
does the task force do?"
"Well, the Captain said we first had to ascertain what
the clan--" He paused and corrected himself practicing for the press corps
briefings to come. "Uh...what the _gargoyles_ are capable of and stop anything
like the blast at the clocktower or the old cathedral from happening again."
"It wasn't their fault!" Elisa protested automatically.
"If we could catch Jon Canmore, between him and the testimony Jason's given
us, I'm sure we could give the court a good case. It'd give us a chance
to shift the focus away from the clan. If only we could do something about
Demona..." She cut herself off abruptly as the desk sergeant walked past
carrying a box of paperwork. She noted with alarm that it seemed
to be smoking slightly.
Matt leaned against the hood of the car and feigned nonchalance
that he didn't really feel. He looked past the damage and watched
the last rays of the sun disappear from the cityscape. He nodded his agreement
but knew it was an uphill battle. Best to let Elisa know now how
hard the climb was going to be. "I gave a statement to the press about
the Hunters, and they quoted me on the air as chastising the press for
jumping to conclusions about the attack and about being soft on the gargoyles."
Elisa sighed and frowned as she looked out over the skyline.
Matt saw the concern that lined his partner's face.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. "You know they couldn't stay
a secret forever." Beneath his hand, he felt her shoulders droop
as the truth of it set in. But that moment of weariness lasted only
a moment as she shook off his hand, squared her shoulders and looked him
in the eye as he continued. "All I know is that I intend to prove
the Hunters destroyed both the clocktower _and_ the cathedral. I need Robyn
before I can do that. Jason says she launched the missiles. And I think
she flew the ship into the cathedral as well."
Elisa shook her head. "No, that just doesn't add up. The
way Robyn was acting..." She trailed off mentally reviewing the events
after her arrival at the church. "I doubt it. More likely it was
Jon, he was really... unstable that night."
Elisa unlocked the car and rolled up the window against
the evening chill. She gunned the engine to life and waited to clear the
parking lot as one of her coworkers roared out of the parking lot on a
Code Three call. As the sirens diminished into the night Matt put a hand
to his chin and stared, scowling, out the window. "This city is about to
explode, Elisa. Today alone, there have been three attacks on statuary
and other pieces of art because some fool thought he saw them move."
Elisa didn't reply. There were only seven pieces of 'statuary'
she cared about at this point.
"All it's gonna take is one gang to call a person 'gargoyle-lover',
and there's gonna be shootings -- even riots."
Matt's words were striking closer to home than he realized
and Elisa shook her head, fresh determination steadying her against the
battle ahead. "I'd sort of gotten used to only telling half-truths on my
reports, but now what do I do?"
"Tell them the truth, Elisa. Maybe it's time to let the
world know just what has been going on. It'll set the Commissioner's Office
on its ear. Not to mention the Daily Tattler.... But it has
to be done slowly. This is gonna upset a lot of people."
"A little truth at a time," Elisa agreed. "And you can
forget the Daily Tattler." She knew there was going to be a day soon when
she wished they'd crawl under the rock they came from. And she wondered
how she should break the news to Goliath.
*****
"Even with all the changes going on," Matt thought to
himself, "at least this place will always remain consistent." Ryker's
Island had been around for... one hundred years? At least it
felt that way. Men and women incarcerated in eight by eight cells,
serving time for their crimes. They spent their lives pacing like
caged animals. But then again, most of them were. He tried
to compose himself for their interview with Robyn Canmore, but the atmosphere
was getting him down. The atmosphere _always_ got him down.
He set his shoulders and ran a hand through his short
red hair as his partner came out of the Processing room -- a determined,
almost angry, look on her face. But who could blame her?
"God, I hate coming here." She straightened her
jacket over her now empty holster and pushed her hair away from her face.
"Heads or tails, partner?" she asked, pulling a coin out
of her pocket.
Bluestone always dreaded this part. "Tails."
Elisa flipped the coin off of her thumb, as both watched
it flip end over end before she caught it again and looked at it.
" Heads. Sorry, partner."
"Why does it seem like I'm always the `good cop'?" Matt
said.
"Because, Bluestone, you're such a nice guy that if you
tried to be the `bad cop', the perps'd probably laugh themselves into submission."
Matt chuckled as the walked towards the interview room.
The guard at the door nodded her head in silent greeting
and reverified their identification. With a prisoner as important
as this one, the warden wasn't going to take any chances. Elisa paced
just a bit as the guard unlocked the door and escorted them in. Robyn
Canmore was already sitting down, handcuffed to the chair. She didn't
look up as the two officers entered the small room.
"Why can't this ever be easy?" Matt thought as he
sighed. He grabbed a chair and sat down. Elisa simply paced
back and forth.
"Jason's out of surgery, now. The prognosis is good,
but he'll never walk again." Matt said, keeping his voice low in
sympathy.
No response.
"There's still no trace of Jon. Jason was worried
something might have happened to him."
