The first thing Heidi Wienerman saw when she came to was Randy Cunningham's concerned face. She gasped, on the verge of hyperventilating; what happened? Why was she here, on cold, dusty stone floor, heart beating like she'd almost died? She grasped at her blouse, as if to hold her chest still. It heaved. Strands of ginger hair fell in her eyes, her wide blue gaze rolled around, took in the sight of Morgan the dancer and the flute girl Elinor unconscious and unmoving a few feet from her.

Her back was crushed up against the cave wall, and she made no move to stand up. Her legs were boneless and her arms were seized up. A horrible stench perforated her memory. She wanted to cry out, Get it out, I hate it, but no words came. Her mouth was full of cotton.

Cunningham's familiar voice, one she'd heard since he and her brother were small, was firm, laced with something she'd never heard in it before. Not an emotion, something more, "You were turned into a monster, but it's okay now," he told her, slowly, as if she might panic. Her eyes grew damp, and she stared straight into his, as if he were her lifeline, and for all she knew, he was. He didn't seem unnerved by her intensity. He met it with an equal amount of meaningfulness, "It's over. The Sorceress is gone," with those last words something in his face hardened, "She won't be back. I'll call 911. Someone will come for us. I'll stay here with you."

It was a long moment before she nodded. The Sorceress. She hadn't known that that thing which vaguely resembled a woman had a name. It made sense, she realized, sorcerers practiced evil, dark magic, and that was the only thing she could think of to describe what had overtaken her and the two other girls. She looked at Morgan and Elinor again. There must have been more like them. People who were caught in the crossfire. What about them? The club had been full of people. Where had they gone?

Once more, no words formed on her lips. Randy's voice talking into the receiver became distant although he had moved closer to her, not leaving her side. She wanted to hold his hand. He was a paragon of bravery to her right now. She was weaker than she'd ever been and he was protecting her, helping her. When had he grown up? The Ninja might have fought the monster, but at the moment, Randall Cunningham was her savior. What if she'd never been found in these catacomb-like caves? Been lost forever? She owed him her life.

He'd always been a decent enough kid, her little brother's biffer. He wasn't a good influence, not anymore than Howard himself was, but he wasn't a bad one, either. He and Howard cared a lot about each other, especially recently, buried in their own secrets. It didn't take a rocket scientist to notice. She could sense it between them pretty much since the day it began, though hints of what the secret actually was eluded her.

In the past she at times resented Randy for stealing away her brother's attention, or if she was feeling particularly petty, his affection. Such thoughts were brushed aside immediately every time they reared their ugly head, they were annoying young boys, anyway, who cared?

As of now, she did.


Her mother was beyond upset, "Oh, baby girl," she sobbed, holding her daughter close to her, hands clutching the small of Heidi's back, "You must have been terrified." Heidi felt inclined to agree, but she couldn't even remember much of it. The sheer agony her parents experienced getting that phone call from the police...she didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about anything, but as luck would have it, her brain insisted of continuing on. Her mom and dad's combined presence soothed her nerves.

Randy, the name flew across her mind like a wisp, but she did not ask about him.

"Why me?" She spoke for the first time since awakening, "How'd I get caught in it?"

Her father's mouth tightened, "I just don't know, Heidi. It doesn't matter now. It's over."

It's over, Randy had said.


The Wienerman home was completely quiet as the whole house slept like the dead, sans Heidi herself. Her brother, in his room, wrapped in his secrecy—she wanted to know, more than she'd ever wanted to know anything, and she wanted to know everything—her parents in the master bedroom, so relieved that both of their children were alive and well despite the chaos they'd lived through, resting from the shock and disbelief of learning that it was their son who pulled the Ninja from the swirling vortex of who-knew-what, of being informed their daughter was unharmed after what she endured.

And Cunningham, a block away, walking distance, in a different house, sound asleep. Or maybe not. He'd been overlooked. Heidi hadn't seen him, yanked into an ambulance by EMTs as quickly as she was. Did she see another EMT approaching him, examining him? She hoped she did. He deserved to be checked on, too. It stuck out in her mind how limp Elinor and Morgan had been as they were carted into their own ambulances. She would try and find out more about them in the morning. The news must be covering the entire thing, they'd be fools not to. The hum of helicopters above lingered in her ears.

Normally, the hospital staff said, they would have kept Heidi overnight. However, she hadn't so much as a bruise, x-rays showed nothing unusual, and it was a blessing in and of itself, her dad claimed. Her parents leaped at the chance to just go home. The long talk Howard had with the police about the Ninja left the three of them—him, their mom and dad—tired. He dozed in the car on the ride home. Heidi had passed the self-pity stage by then, and was sorry for him. While she had been oblivious and wreaking havoc—she shuddered—he had been huddled with a group of other kids trying to find safety.

Then, he'd summoned all his courage despite his fear and...

She wasn't certain how it went down. All she knew was that the Ninja publicly thanked him afterward. She hadn't seen that either, lying on a hospital bed. It must have been something. Strangely, Howard didn't appear as awed as she expected. Drained, yes. Overwhelmed by his own actions and the Ninja's acknowledgment of them, no. She cleared her brain as best she could and buried her face in her pillow. Sleep. She needed to sleep.

Was Cunningham as distraught and sleepless as her?

Randy...


Neither Heidi or Howard went to school the next day. It was a Wednesday, and nothing happened of note. She slept, ate, watched the news—Morgan and Elinor were fine, Heidi herself was dismissed fairly quickly by the newspeople—stared at Howard contemplatively whenever she happened by him, until he fidgeted in discomfort. He didn't ask if she was okay. She wondered why. Then again, she wasn't interrogating him on what he'd done, how he felt about it. Her usual talkative, investigative nature was dimmed.

It wasn't till the sun was going down that she looked up from the book she was only passively skimming through to look at Howard, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her. "How's your friend?" She asked him. He started.

"What do you mean? Randy's fine, nothing even happened to him," the words blundered out.

"He saved me," she went on.

Howard was absolutely frozen.

"He found me, after I changed back. He called the police," well, more specifically, he'd called 911, but it was an officer who rushed to their aid first, "And I haven't thanked him for it, yet."

"Oh," Howard sighed like he was expecting something completely different. Heidi took note. "Yeah, uh, he's a great guy. He helps people a lot more than you think," he paused, as if backtracking, "I mean...yeah. He'll be at school tomorrow, I'm sure."

"How did you know?"

He blinked, shook himself, the faraway look in his eye replaced by something more alert, "What?"

"You act like you knew. I don't think Mom and Dad told you." She'd had trouble telling them, but she had to, they had to know who to be grateful to.

Howard swallowed, "Um...it's obvious."

'Obvious.'

How could it ever be...

Nothing more was said. Heidi absorbed it all. It gave her a headache to dwell on it anymore. She decided to take a nap.