Prologue
My name is Rolf Gainer. I been walking in these large, clunky boots since 1952. I came from
the Texas hills and I been done walking all this time. I'm thin now, but I don't care. I been equipped, too. Even though. . .I haven't fired a single shot. I used to be a hunter, but I'm losin' it. But wait! What's that? I think I got me a doggone ferret! OK, aim. . .BOOM! I did it. . .I got it. . .just like I used to. . .I gotta get outta here with that thing, but I can't see it anymore! Oh well, just keep runnin'. . .
○100 Men Down○
Chapter 1: Stephanie Weller
"Well, I guess that's it. Now, where's my diary?" I looked at my things, piled up to to almost the roof.
My name is Stephanie Weller. I live in Canada. Once, I had to live in my tree house for a while by myself, because my mom was in the hospital with an illness, and my dad was on a business trip out of the state. I had to live in the tree house because I made a plan with my tutor that he would live in the house "alone" while I lived here.
"Ah, there it is!" I had finally found my diary and began to write.
Dear Diary,
I have missed Dad and Mom a lot lately, but I know they'll be back soon. Ever since I turned nine, I wasn't exactly scared of them being gone anymore.
Now, since I'm nine, it's 1969. Dad has only been gone a month. Still, though, I have to thank my tutor for agreeing to this plan.
Friday, December 5, 1969
I shut the diary and slipped the pink, shiny pen back into the spiral wire.
I looked out the window and rubbed the glass. Of course Dad will come back, but Mom. . .will she come back? Ever? I sighed. I would just have to see what happened.
In the meantime, I made myself something to eat.
While I ate, though, I heard someone climbing up the rope ladder.
It was my tutor, Mr. Fallwell. "Hi, Mr. Fallwell!" I shouted. He hugged me tight, just like my father did.
"I already did all my work!" I said with a smile. Mr. Fallwell flipped one of my blonde ponytails and chuckled softly. Even though his face looked young, he had a gray ponytail.
He nuzzled his sharp nose into my cheek and said, "Very good, my little strawberry." Then he sat down with me.
"Well, Stephanie, I must tell you that your father phoned, and he said he'd be back in about another month." All of a sudden, I lit up. But not for long. "What about Mom?" I asked him. "I can't exactly have all the information you want, can I?" Mr. Fallwell said jokingly. I laughed.
"Well, I have to leave for a while, okay, Strawberry?" He asked, and climbed back down the rope ladder.
"Okay!" I shouted down from the window and watched Mr. Fallwell leave.
I went to the corner of the tree house and hugged one of my stuffed animals. I thought about Mom and Dad. "I shouldn't worry about anything. Mom isn't dead. . .at least, I think. . ." Then something startling broke my thoughts.
"HEEeelp!!" A voice seemed to call me. I jolted up from the corner of my tree house and climbed down the ladder as fast as I could.
I rushed down the yard and was startled by what I saw. A man, a young man but still a man, was on his knees in the snow-covered grass, coughing and gasping for breath. His hand clutched his chest, and blood seeped through his pale fingers.
"What's wrong? How did that happen to you?!" I asked desperately. Loud panting and a cough was my answer.
"Never mind. I just have to--" Then a thought came to me. Wasn't he a stranger? Should I just leave him there in the snow, bleeding to death?
No.
I looked at his face, and his eyes full of tears, stared right back. "It hurts. . ." He rasped to me.
"I—I'll help you," I said shakily, and I grabbed his arm, which was in a brown furry coat. I supported his back and helped him walk slowly.
I carefully helped him up the rope ladder and put him on my mattress. I covered him with my blankets.
"There. Now, I'll try to clean that wound." I said, and I rushed into my house and got some rags.
I grabbed the tattered rag and lifted it. Then I stopped. First I carefully removed his coat. Then I lifted the rag and tried to clean his chest. He had already calmed himself at this point.
When I rubbed off the rest of the blood, though, there was a picture! A picture on this man's chest!
I didn't say anything, though. I got a roll of gauze and rolled it around him.
Then I remembered about Mr. Fallwell! Oh, no! What would he say if he saw I had helped this man? Maybe I should have left him. . .I thought. But then I saw his pale, frail body sleeping innocently. And there was another thing, too.
As I looked down at him from where I was kneeling, I saw his lips. They were the biggest lips I had ever seen on a man.
I put my finger out and tried to touch those big, pink lips. I might startle him, though. I thought.
Then, I wondered if he was even alive. I listened as hard as I could, and I finally heard soft breathing. It sounded hard for him to breathe, but it was enough. I stroked his long, dark hair.
Then he woke up. Slowly his eyes with thick, black lashes opened. A big smile appeared on his face. "Hello," he said quietly and weakly.
"Um. . .hi. . ." I said meekly. "Thank you. . .I didn't know if I'd survive that." He hoarsely said. I decided I might as well learn his name. "What's your name? My name is Stephanie Weller. I'm nine."
"My name is Mick Jagger. I'm 26," he said.
"Now, you can tell me what happened to you, and how." I said, feeling very smart. I had a big vocabulary, after all.
His eyes widened. "I don't know. I think I've been shot." "Oh." I said, my own eyes widening.
"Earlier, while I was walking, I was wearing my new coat, and the next I knew, I had collapsed." Mick said, but while he talked, his voice kept breaking.
Then I decided to ask. "How is there a picture on you? By surgery?" I asked, not impressed by how dumb that sounded.
He laughed and tried to speak again. But this time, he couldn't.
He started to cough again, and his breathing sounded worse than ever. I panicked. What if Mick died?
I decided to do what Mom and Dad and Mr. Fallwell always told me to do. Call 911.
I rushed into my house (by the window, of course), ran to the living room phone, and dialed 911. As soon as the nurse answered, I screamed into the receiver, "HELP! Come QUICK! There's a dying man!!"And I told them my address.
A few minutes later, I was back at Mick's side, holding his hand. Then I heard sirens. I leaned out the window and yelled for the doctors to come into the tree house. When they did, they gasped.
"W—what happened? How did you find this man? Is he your father?" The doctor said. At this point, I was sobbing.
"I don't know how he got here, sir! I just found him and he was going to die! I had to help him!" I sobbed, and the nurse told me to calm down. "We'll help him, honey," she said calmly.
Then, I couldn't watch anymore. I slowly climbed out of my tree house and sat in the spot where I had found Mick. Then I listened. Everything was so quiet, I could hear the doctors talking.
"Yes, sir, that's a bullet." One said. "Well, let's go," said a nurse. After a while, they climbed down the ladder with Mick in their arms, like how Mom held me when I was a baby.
I watched until the ambulance was out of sight. Then I climbed back up the tree house and sat back in the corner, waiting for Mr. Fallwell to climb up angrily any minute and yell at me.
"I knew he was a stranger, Mr. Fallwell, but I couldn't just let him die. . ." I recited what I would say to Mr. Fallwell.
Then I heard his car. Oh no, here it comes, I thought to myself. I watched from the window and decided I would just talk to him anyway. I recited my excuse once more and ran to Mr. Fallwell. "Hi!" I shouted to him, and I hugged him.
He hugged me, and I thought my secret was safe. But then, "What was that ambulance doing coming from our house?" He asked. I had already thought of what to say. "Oh, I just saw it pass." I said, looking down because I was scared as heck.
"Really? Well, I hope you've been a good girl. All that time," he said, almost trying to worm it out of me.
O
It's me, Rolf Gainer, again. From my most recent kill, I been proud o' meself. It was a ferret, I'm pretty sure. . .Wait! I think I saw a humanoid body! Oh no! Me latest kill was a. . .MAN??!
O
It was an hour after Mr. Fallwell came home. I went into my house and into Mr. Fallwell's room. "Mr. Fallwell?" I called as I knocked on the door. "Yes, Stephanie?" He said as I came in. He was combing his stringy gray hair.
"Can I go to the store? I've saved $3.00 already!" I put my hands in a pleading position. He thought. "Well, I suppose. Just don't stay long." He said.
"Thanks!" I beamed, and I ran out the door. But I wasn't going to the store. I was heading straight for the hospital.
As soon as I got there on my bright blue bike, I threw it down, rushed inside, and spoke to the nurse. "Excuse me," I said politely, "Can you tell me who came in latest? I mean in the ambulance?" I asked, a little out of breath.
"Sure, he's in room 202. Just got him from the ambulance." "Thanks." I tried to run, but I felt a tug on the back of my dress, and I stopped. "We're still performing surgery," she said flatly.
"Oh. Maybe later, then?" I asked. "Sure." She was writing things down. I shrugged and went back to the tree house to start combing my own hair. I got out my diary.
Dear diary,
today was very strange. I don't know how Mick got here, or why he came. Was it just so I could help him? Does God think I am meant for him?
Friday, December 5, 1969
I laid down on my mattress and fell asleep.
O
I can't believe it. Now the cops're gonna come after me! I'm tempted to leave this town forever. That's it! I'll do just that! Go on back to Texas Hills!
O
I looked out my frost-covered window and a big grin made its way to my face. It was Christmas Day, finally! A few weeks ago I had seen Mick in the hospital.
I rode my bike again, but this time, I knew where to go. I opened the door quietly, in case Mick was asleep. But to my surprise, a jolly voice shouted, "Come in, Steph!" I came in to see him sitting up in bed, smiling.
"Did they get it out?" I asked hopefully. "Yes, they did. And I want to do something to thank you. But for now. . ." And he opened his arms wide. I climbed onto the bed and he embraced me in a hug.
"Thank you, Stephanie. If it weren't for you. . ." He whispered over my shoulder. "You're welcome, Mick." I whispered back. Then we broke our hug. "How are you going to thank me?" I asked.
"It's a surprise. Just try to come here on Christmas." He gave me a small crinkly piece of paper. "A map?" I looked up at him. He nodded. He shook my hand one last time before I left. "Thank you ever so much." He said again.
So now, I held the paper in my hand. I looked at it again. "I wonder. . ." I said to myself as I put one of my new Christmas dresses on.
Then, I heard someone clambering up the tree house ladder. "Hi, Mr.--" I cut my voice off in surprise. "Daddy??!" I was shocked. "Yes, my Stephanie! How could I miss spending Christmas and Christmas Eve with my little girl?" He picked me up and put me on his shoulders.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy," I said softly.
"Come here, Stephanie. We're going somewhere." He took my hand and we got in the car. "Where are we going?" I asked.
But Dad stayed quiet. When we stopped, we were at a strange, curved place. It looked fancy, so I tried to behave.
"Here we are," Dad whispered. "Now, when you go in, go through the first door you see. OK?" I nodded. Then Dad opened the door. He sat down.
When I came through the right door, a lady was standing there. "Hi," she said. I waved. "I'm Dina Longoiria. I'm going to do your hair and put on your makeup." So Dina and I went to a seat, and she did my hair. It was like playing dress-up.
Now, I was standing at a big double door. "Just open that," she pointed to the door. "And one mor thing. Merry Christmas!" She called. "Merry Christmas! Thank you!" I called.
Dina forced her key into the door and turned it. I opened the double door and smiled. I walked through it and waved. To my surprise, I was waving to an audience full of people, and Dad was there, too!
Where am I? I wondered. Then I saw another door open and my eyes widened in shock. Mick and his friends came out of that door! I was at a Rolling Stones concert!
Mick pulled the microphone to his beautiful lips and began to speak. "Thank you, everybody! But--" More cheering cut him off. He waved his hands to shush them. "But I'm not who you should be cheering for. Look, eveybody." He unzipped his corduroy sweater and opened it wide. There were stitches running across his chest!
"Now, something happened a few weeks ago, and someone on this very stage helped me." He pulled me over gently. "Stephanie Weller." He said my name slowly. "And I am going to perform with her today!" The audience roared.
So, I performed my favorite song, "No Expectations", with Mick, and they liked it! The audience liked it! And, Mom came home on Christmas! I can't believe I thought Dad and Mr. Fallwell would got mad at me about Mick! Oh, well. Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 25, 1969