Chapter 3: Uninvited Guests

Jack had mucked out the stables, chopped and stacked firewood, repaired the paddock fence, and swept out the fireplace. Now he was sitting on the jetty that extended out over the vast lake by his house, dressed in a winter coat and boots, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a beer bottle in his hand. Nothing could have been more pleasant, had it not been for the fact that the bottle was empty. Now he would either have to go see if there was still one left in the refrigerator - highly unlikely - or wait for Sam to get back with the shopping, however long that might be.

Since he never wore a watch, he glanced up at the sky. The position of the sun told him that the afternoon was far advanced, and that made him uneasy. He scolded himself for being such a worry-guts. After all, it wasn't the first time Sam had spent longer in town than she had previously anticipated. Once let loose in the civilised world, with people to talk to and unnecessary trinkets to spend money on, she was inclined to take her time. Nevertheless, something told him that today was different. He had had a funny feeling since sunrise, and Sam's absence wasn't helping. In fact, the feeling was so strong that he was ready to get his jeep out of the garage and go looking for her, when he became aware of the distant whirr of an engine. It came rapidly closer, and within moments had become so loud that he sprang up cursing, clapping both hands over his ears.

The lake water rippled. The pines shivered. Snowdrifts swept down from the roof like a mist, and some loose tiles that Sam had been on at him to fix rattled noisily. Looking up, he was met by a sight so absurd that he hardly dared believe his eyes: An enormous khaki helicopter was hovering overhead, its rotor blades whipping the air up into a vortex.

'What the hell...'

The helicopter maintained its position and lowered a ladder, allowing four figures to climb down to the ground beside the house. Two men, a woman, and... Was that really a child? Two suitcases and a travel bag were lowered down to them, then the shorter of the men waved to the pilot. Before Jack had time to protest, the machine turned and disappeared into the distance, leaving the strangers behind on his property. They came towards him, and for a moment he regretted having left his shotgun in the house - if he needed to defend himself, his pocket knife alone wouldn't be much use. However, they didn't seem to mean him any harm, even though the man who now approached him made a far from friendly impression.

He cut a sinister figure, from the tangled, almost shoulder-length mane to the pitch black coat and jump boots. The only light areas were the face behind the grizzled beard and sunglasses, and a silver strand of hair which sprang back from his right temple and struck Jack as rather ridiculous, almost as if he were facing a caricatured comic-book villain rather than a real human being. The gloved right hand the man extended towards him seemed real enough, however. He introduced himself in deep, gruff tones.

'Jack Avery, I presume. My name is Kermit Griffin.'

Jack gaped at him wordlessly. He did not shake hands, but proceeded to study the three who stood behind him. He started slightly. Though they had neither a television nor an internet connection out here, he did occasionally glimpse at a newspaper when he found his way to town, and therefore recognised the president immediately. He was at Jack's eye level, a rare experience for a man who was nearly two meters tall, and had a grave, worried look about him. The woman at his side barely came up to his shoulder, and Jack couldn't help but notice that the photographs he had seen hadn't done her justice. Fair hair fell down to her shoulders, framing a face that was no longer young, but whose fine lines around the eyes and mouth made a naturally sympathetic impression on him. The boy seemed nice too - a bright kid, no doubt about that. Jack liked the alert look in the hazel eyes that appraised him curiously, and under different circumstances, he would hardly have been able to resist returning the boy's shy smile.

All these observations had taken him mere seconds, and he quickly regained his composure sufficiently to ask them, bluntly and with curses in the native tongue of his homeland flung in here and there, what exactly they meant by disturbing his peace and quiet. The president approached him.

'I am J...'

'I know who you are, but why are you invading my lake?'

'That's rather a long story, and one you'll probably find hard to believe. Do you think we could continue this conversation inside, before we all end up frozen solid?'

'You want to enter my house? The President of the United States drops out of the sky, and cool-as-you-like invites himself into my parlour?' Jack laughed drily. He began turning in circles, peering into the bushes, and called out, 'Peter? Peter Caine, are you out there? I'm sure you find all of this an absolute scream, but if you think I'm letting you send it up to some candid camera show...'

'Hold on,' Griffin interrupted him. 'Did you just say Caine? Peter Caine?'

'I did. Why?'

'Is he here?'

'I didn't think so, not until you showed up. But I really can't imagine what this is, unless it's some stupid prank of Peter's that I don't find remotely funny.'

Griffin's mouth twisted into an unexpected, crooked grin. 'You talk like a man who's caught Peter hitting on his sister.'

Jack raised his eyebrows quizzically. 'You know him?'

'Oh yeah.' He drawled out the two short syllables. 'We're old friends.'

'Friends? Really? Sure you're not one of those guys who used to stand in line to kill him?'

'The only time I nearly got him killed was when he stuck his neck out for me.'

'So you say.'

Jack studied Griffin for a moment. He didn't really look like a man who would be a friend of Peter's, but Jack's gut was talking to him again, and was of the opinion that he was telling the truth.

'Fine.' With a sigh, he resigned himself to his fate. 'Come on in then. Maybe that way, at least I can get an explanation for all of this.'

He led them into the living room, where Phoebe Sheridan looked around her appreciatively. The brickwork fireplace, the broad upholstery with its big cushions covered in Native American designs, and the warmly coloured patchwork rug on the floor gave it a cosy atmosphere. Two iron candlesticks decorated a wooden chest of drawers, and between them stood a few painted ceramic jugs. A glass cabinet held an assortment of clay figures, partially weathered, along with faded parchments and old coins that looked medieval. Horseshoes were fixed to the wall by the window, as well as nails which held up Native American artefacts - various pipes, knives, and a feathered tomahawk. A large dreamcatcher hung on the wall over the fireplace, and the mantel held a collection of photographs which captured Phoebe's interest. Finally she looked out through the large front of glass that offered a panoramic view of the seemingly endless lake and snow-covered mountains.

'You have a beautiful home, Mr. Avery.'

'There's no "mister" in this house. Just call me Jack, all right?'

'Only if you call me Phoebe.'

'Well, ma'am, I don't know if that's appropriate.'

'Please.'

She gave him a charming smile that made her blue-green eyes sparkle, and he realised how impossible it was to refuse her. Clearing his throat, Jack offered to fetch drinks - mainly because he urgently needed to leave the room and clear his head. But the sight of the empty fridge only served to rekindle his worries. Why the devil wasn't Sam home yet?

'I wouldn't say no to something stronger, if you have it.'

Griffin's voice, coming suddenly from behind him, almost made Jack drop the bottle of water he was holding.

'Damn it, do you have to sneak around like that?'

'Kind of jumpy, aren't you?'

'You wait until a chopper drops the most powerful man in the world and his entourage off in your front yard, and then tell me what you make of it.'

'But there's more to it than that, isn't there?'

Jack laughed humourlessly. 'What are you, a mind reader? I suppose you go in for all Peter's metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, do you?'

'I carry my metaphysics in my holster,' Griffin replied drily. 'But the way you're all tensed up reminds me of someone.'

'Is that so? And who might that be?'

'Me.'

Jack had just opened his mouth for a sharp retort when both men were distracted by a sound from outside. Sheridan must have heard it too, for he appeared behind Griffin, just as the bodyguard was reaching for his trusty Desert Eagle. Jack went to the kitchen window and looked out to see a wolf trotting up the road, followed by three riders.

'Speak of the devil,' he grumbled.

'What is it?' Phoebe asked, joining them. 'Is there something wrong?'

Griffin lowered his arm and tucked his gun away.

'Oh, this should be good.'

While the riders dismounted, Jack took long strides towards them. Lobo came running to him, and he scratched the top of the wolf's head before turning to the blonde young woman who had stopped closest to him.

'Val. Am I glad to see you! Holy mother of...' His gaze had fallen on the bloodstained hole in her sleeve. 'What happened to you?'

'It's nothing. Honestly, I'm fine,' she assured him.

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. Immediately she sensed that there was something troubling him too. She took a step back to search his face.

'What's the matter?'

'I don't know. It seems like everything's going wrong today. Uninvited guests showing up out of the blue, Sam gone missing...'

'Missing?' Stepping next to Valene, Peter pricked up his ears. 'Since when?'

'She went shopping this morning and should have been back hours ago. I was just going to head out and look for her when these folk fell out the sky.'

He pointed behind him to where Griffin was just coming out of the house. The three newcomers looked his way, and Peter stared in amazement.

'I don't believe it...' he murmured. 'Pop, are you seeing what I'm seeing?'

Kwai Chang Caine smiled in that enigmatic way that always made Jack want to hit something. Griffin joined them. He suddenly seemed much more at ease than before. He even smiled.

'Hi there, stranger.'

He held out his hand. Peter seized it, gaped at him in disbelief for a moment, then suddenly embraced him like a long-lost brother. His father followed suit with equal cordiality.

'It is good to see you again, old friend,' he said.

'You too.'

For a while the men just stood looking at each other. Then Valene drew attention to herself.

'Uh, Peter...?'

'Oh yeah, sorry.' He slipped an arm around her. 'Val, this is Kermit Griffin - the grouchy old computer freak you've heard so much about. Kermit, this is Val.'

'Valene Avery,' she introduced herself. 'It's a pleasure to meet you at long last.'

'The pleasure is all mine. I only hope Peter restricted his stories to the good stuff.' He glanced at Jack. 'So this is your sister, huh? Now I know what you have against Peter.'

'What, you've only just met and you're already ganging up on me? Charming.'

Jack ignored Peter's words. Instead he returned to the subject that was foremost on his mind.

'Would somebody care to explain what's going on here?'

Peter swallowed his annoyance. 'Kermit and I are old pals,' he said. 'We served at the same precinct, back when he was a cop.' He addressed his next words to Kermit. 'What are you doing these days? You never did get in touch after you'd left.'

'I'm a bodyguard.'

'Seriously? Figures. After all, you saved my butt often enough. Who do you work for?'

'The President of the United States,' Jack replied irritably. 'He's just lugged his whole kit and caboodle into my kitchen, and Sam is still not back yet, and unless someone starts making sense of all this within the next five seconds, I am going to start banging heads together until I get some answers!'

'Jack, everything's fine.' Valene squeezed his arm and did her best to soothe him. 'I'm sure Sam's okay.'

She looked questioningly at Caine, who nodded.

'Samantha is unhurt,' he confirmed. 'She will be with us soon.'

His words did little to reassure Jack, but he allowed his sister to lead him back inside. John and Phoebe had come to the door by now, and David also joined them. Kermit introduced everyone.

'So Jack was actually being serious?' Peter marvelled as they went into the house. 'You really do work for the president?'

'Yep.'

'What's he doing here?'

'We'll explain once we're all inside. What brings you here, anyway? Is it some kind of family reunion, or did your dad have one of his visions?'

'Actually, Peter's the one who had the vision,' Valene replied, shooting her boyfriend a worried glance. 'We were already on our way here when... Caine joined us unexpectedly.'

The hesitation before her last words, and the change in her voice, caught Jack's attention. Anxiously he looked down at her sleeve again. If he had his way, he would have liked to sit her down on the sofa right away, and get the truth out of her, but not with all these people watching.

'I'll go get us some drinks,' he said. 'Give me a hand?'

Valene followed her brother into the kitchen and smiled a little when he insisted on examining her arm before laying his big, warm hands on her shoulders. It gave her such a soothing sensation that she felt infinitely relieved to be with him.

'Are you sure you're all right?'

'Yeah, I'm okay,' she replied wearily.

'What happened?'

'I'd rather not talk about it right now, if you don't mind.'

'Well, I do mind!' Jack protested. 'I've had a lousy day, Val, and I would really like to know what the hell is going on!'

'I don't know any details, only what Peter saw in his vision. It was horrible.' She shivered. 'Death and suffering everywhere and... and he just knew we had to come here, that we had to come to you. I can't explain it. I don't really know what's happening myself, but something's about to change dramatically, Jack, and it's going to affect all of us.'

She looked so pale and tense that Jack softened immediately. He put his arms around her and held her close. Valene leaned her head against his shoulder, hugging him back.

'It's okay,' he murmured comfortingly. 'We'll figure it out, kiddo.'

Shortly after they rejoined the others and handed round the drinks - water for the Sheridans and for Peter, tea for his father... Griffin asked whether they had any scotch.

'Not in this house, but I can offer you Irish whiskey,' said Jack.

'That'll do fine.'

'On the rocks?'

'I'm more a straight up kind of guy.'

'Right you are.'

Jack handed him the drink, poured two more glasses for himself and Valene, and then finally sat down. He took a sip and let his armchair tip back until it almost touched the wall.

'Right, I'm all ears. Come at me with your explanations - preferably in plain English.'

Everyone exchanged glances. Griffin - Kermit, he reminded himself and chuckled inwardly - nodded at Sheridan encouragingly.

'Sir...'

The president cleared his throat, and the room fell silent while he explained once more what he had been forced to announce. It was only news to Jack by now. His chair fell back onto the wooden floor with a thud, and his eyes hurriedly sought those of his sister when he learned that people with abilities like hers were to be segregated. His mind was clear of doubt: There was nothing he wouldn't do to prevent anything of that kind from happening to her.

'Have they gone nuts?' he burst out. 'Do they deliberately mean to foment hatred? Are they looking to start another holocaust, only this time world-wide?'

'I'm afraid some are,' Sheridan said gravely. 'What began with my speech has already grown into a global witch hunt, and it's still escalating. Mass riots; people with special skills being labelled as freaks, their homes set on fire; gunfights... I can't tell you how deeply sorry I am that my words should have been the cause of such horrors.'

'Don't blame yourself,' Phoebe said quickly. She was sitting on the sofa beside him, her arms wrapped around her son, but now she reached out and patted John's arm. 'You only announced what others had decided. None of this is your fault.'

Jack watched this exchange with a furrowed brow. Not long ago, he had referred to Sheridan as the most powerful man in the world, but he no longer believed that. Jack was pretty good at reading people, and this man showed none of the arrogance he expected of politicians in general. On the contrary, right now he merely seemed helpless.

'One thing I still don't understand,' Peter said at last. 'Why are you here?'

Sheridan looked a question at Kermit, who nodded as he set down his glass.

'It's quite safe, sir. You can trust these people.'

The president did so. 'We fled for our son's sake.' He glanced at David and said, 'He has dreams that allow him to see the future.'

'Visions?'

'If you like.'

He explained how they had reached their decision to flee at once - to get David out of Washington, take him somewhere they would be able to hide.

'David chose this location himself,' he added. 'He saw it in a dream and drew it on a map.'

Jack stared at the piece of paper the president laid on the table, where the child's hand had drawn in every detail: the town, the mountains, the lake, the house... He looked up at Kermit.

'You called me by my name when you got here. Did David dream that too?'

'No. But I made some enquiries while we spent two weeks taking the scenic route here, until I could be sure we'd shaken the bloodhounds. You are Jack Avery, born in Ireland in 1985. Your parents were Jeffrey and Ellen. They emigrated to the States with you and your sister following the bombing by the Real IRA in Omagh in 1998. Your father joined the Marines, until he went MIA in 2005. You yourself gave the Army a try, but you had problems accepting authority. You quit and travelled the world, until you met an esteemed young archaeologist in England about thirteen years ago. You and Samantha celebrated your tenth wedding anniversary this summer... Would you like me to continue?'

Jack said nothing, but fixed Kermit with a wary stare. Anger furrowed his brow, and he balled his hands into fists.

'You've been spying on me?'

'Yes,' Kermit said blatantly. 'I like to know who I'm dealing with.'

'But how do you know all this?'

'Kermit always was well-connected,' said Peter. 'If there's anything you need to know, ask him. There's nothing he can't find out.'

'Really? So does he know when Sam's coming home?' Jack retorted.

'She is not far,' Caine assured him. He turned to Peter. 'Show them what you found, my son.'

Peter went to get the map from his coat. He spread it out on the low wooden table, and David bent over it wide-eyed.

'What are those patches? Is that blood?'

'Please don't touch, honey,' his mother begged, but it was too late.

'Yes, it is,' Peter admitted. Without going into any detail, he summed up, 'A lot of people died because the map didn't lead them where they had been told. They were lured into a trap.'

He pointed to the place where he and Valene had found the bodies. Jack raised his eyes from the map. He looked at Valene, whose face told him that this was where the thing had happened that she didn't want to talk about.

'Come on, out with it,' he insisted. 'What happened?'

She sighed heavily, knowing how Jack would react when he learned the truth. As briefly and concisely as she could, she explained what had occurred. Predictably, he flew into a rage.

'Where the hell was the rookie while you were out there fighting all by yourself? First he drags you across the Rockies in this weather because of some stupid vision, and then to cap it all he goes and abandons you out there?'

'That's not how it happened!' Peter protested just as hotly. 'And by the way, I'm in the same room as you are. If you have something to say to me, then say it, but don't act like I'm not here!'

Jack gritted his teeth. 'I always knew you'd bring her nothing but trouble.'

'Guys, please!' Valene interrupted them forcefully. 'Can we discuss this some other time? I think there are more important things right now than your constant bickering.'

'He started it!'

'Only because you...'

'Enough!' Both men fell silent. Valene took a deep breath and then pointed at the map again. 'This is where they led those people who were trying to escape persecution. Peter found out that someone had sold them this as an escape route.'

'It's not far from here,' Kermit pointed out.

Still struggling to regain his composure, Peter nodded.

'Instead of a way out, all they found in the cave was death. Still... Even if this wasn't the right spot, I do believe there is a path. I just don't know where it is.'

'Do you have any idea where it leads?' Phoebe asked hopefully.

Peter shook his head. 'I'm not sure.'

He closed his eyes for a moment and recalled the beginning of his vision: confused images; shimmering light, a tunnel, a humming in his ears. His face contorted with pain, and he rubbed his temples. Valene stroked his light brown hair.

'Is everything all right, hon?'

Jack looked away, rising from his chair and crossing to the window. His patience was hanging by a thread. He didn't care what Caine's Kung Fu mysticism told him. If Sam wasn't back in ten minutes, he would go looking for her.