Revision 1.0

===#===#===

Somewhere near Montreal, a group of 50 people carefully surveyed a park ahead.

Mark Trudeau remembered that park very well. His parents had brought him there many times when he was just a little kid. He did lots of biking and hiking there. It was too bad that, with dark clouds above, the lake was no longer blue. Half of the trees were dead. Grey ashes covered everything. The once beautiful colorful park at that time looked more like a dull trash ground.

But of course the little hill was still there, so was the cave at the foot. It was not big nor deep, but enough for them to hide within. Mark used to draw dicks on the cave's wall. He was a little embarrassed to see those graffiti were still there.

Mark sighed, I'm so close to home! Yet it felt like I was here a thousand years ago, in a very different life.

"What's wrong, Mark?" Chloe noticed his nostalgia, "Remember something?"

Mark nodded, and she patted his back for a little comfort.

After everyone sat down, Jacob went to the cave's mouth to be the watch. Chloe clapped her hand loud. PAPAPAPA… The sound echoed in the narrow space. Making sure she got everyone's attention, she started a lengthy strategy meeting.

"Everyone, as you already know, we encountered an unexpected enemy. They ambushed us and killed 40 of us. They seem to be very scary, but I am telling you, we fear them only because we don't know anything about them. Once we have more info, you will see we are actually the stronger one."

The audience had some muttering. They were not sure what Chloe meant.

"Amber here has the highest Earth skill score ever." Chloe introduced her, "Now let's hear what she said about our enemy."

A few started applauding. Those were the men used to work for Amber back in the Ark like Jacob.

"Uh… Thank you!" Amber felt a little nervous, "I don't have much to tell you, just something about the arrows. Those were all hand-made. If you inspect them closely, you will see that the wood of each shaft is knife-cut and hand-polished. They were made in a workshop, not in a factory."

Seeing people nodding at her, Amber had more confidence, "The point of the arrow is made of cruel iron. It was molten metal poured into a wooden cast, a very primitive way to produce them, almost like 13th Century. The arrow head itself cannot really kill a man. It's the poison that does the job. The rough porous surface allowed the poison liquid to soak in and stayed."

She showed one arrow's head, "Some arrows poison was not dry when I retrieved them, which gives me an idea how it works. They must have dipped the arrowhead in a bottle of poison liquid before they shoot them, because once the poison is dry, it might not work as well any more."

She added, "We can test this theory on small animals tomorrow. All those arrows should lose their poisonous potency overnight."

Chloe nodded at her presentation, "Very good! Amber, you truly outdone yourself!" She started to applaud.

PAPAPAPA… Everyone followed.

Chloe then analyzed the implication, "What Amber said here means a couple of ways to counter those guys. First, if we wear thick armor or use shields, the arrows cannot hurt us. Second, if we are the ones who ambush them, they will have no time to dip arrows in their poison jar, so the arrows they shoot back will be much less dangerous. Do you guys agree?"

Everyone concurred. They started to feel some confidence.

Chloe presented the next speaker, "Alright, let's welcome our history and human behavior professor, Tanya Howard."

Once again applause rose up. That time it was much louder and more cheerful.

A 40-year-old woman stood up and walked to the center, "I … uh … I ...uh…" She didn't know what to say.

Chloe encouraged her, "Come on, professor. Tell us anything."

She finally had enough guts, "OK, everyone, I will try my best." Her long speech began.

"First, I want to point out that those guys are some highly skilled hunters, but not soldiers. They shoot arrows with pin-point accuracy, but once we were defeated and all hiding, they did not charge at us. So their behavior is more like hunters. The real soldiers would have come in and finished us all, when we were at the weakest moment."

"Hm...Great analysis!" Chloe nodded, "I am so glad that you agree to come with us."

Tanya had a bitter smile, "I didn't have much choice." She was in the death row like most people there. She killed her husband in a very elaborated way, and trying to make it looked like an accident. Yet she didn't know in their room there was a hidden camera recording everything. She was in jail the next day.

The speech continued, " The second thing is, they appeared to be just defending their territory. Once we moved out there, there were no more attacks. However, usually a tribe will mark their territory in a clear way, like putting marks on trees, setting up flags or hanging some corpses, but we have seen none of that. This means probably they just recently moved in. No time for them to mark their area yet…"

"So do you think they will move out?" Chloe asked.

Tanya nodded, "Perhaps. If they know they will move out soon, then there is no incentive to mark their area, either. Also it leads to my third point here."

"Wow! Professor, you are really impressive." She couldn't help praising her.

"Thanks, Chloe! I had been lecturing for all my life. So ironic that only now my knowledge can put in some practical use. The third point is, those hunter or savages have no interests in human communication. Usually if strangers got in someone else's territory, the owners would send out some warning first. Language barrier shouldn't be an issue. Some warnings like shooting a gun or an arrow were universally understood, but those hunters just ambushed us and killed us, while we had done nothing to them..."

"Yet." Chloe added, "We had done nothing to them, yet." Mark looked at her with concerns.

"Alright," Tanya said, "Then it only means those guys were very isolated from other human beings. They don't expect to see any of us, or talk to us, they will only kill whoever is in their turd."

"How can that be?" Amber couldn't help asking, "We Canadian never had such brutal savages before!"

"Uhmm…..." Mark wanted to say something.

"What is it, Mark?" Chloe caught his thought, "You have something?"

"Yeah, actually I was fascinated by the world's mysteries for a while, like pyramids and Bermuda Triangle..."

"So?" Amber asked, "You think those are bigfoots?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but I did do a little research on bigfoots too." Mark said, "We do have many unexplained disappearances in the northern Canada."

"No, brother, the cold and the wild got them." Amber argued, "Northern Canada is a harsh place to live. Grizzly bears are everywhere."

"Well, now come to think of it." Mark felt the ridiculousness himself, "Maybe it was not those bears."

"Hm… Mark, I agree with your point." Chloe nodded to him, "Perhaps there had been a tribe living in the north, but no one has ever seen them, or got in touch with them. Or maybe they just killed anyone who got close, like those hunters did to us today, right? Professor Howard?"

Tonya agreed, "If a tribe like that exists, yeah, their behavior today does fit the profile."

"See?" Chloe was getting excited, "We work so much better as a group! Now let's figure out how to fight them. Time to hear our leading killer, Henry King, what he says about it."

PAPAPAPA….. The applause made a 30-year-old man very embarrassed.

"I am sorry, I am not really a killer." He said.

"But you were a high-ranking security guard." Chloe asked, "You killed people who dared to fight back, and you did kill his whole family, right?"

He started to get emotional, "That fucking bastard slept with my wife! What am I supposed to do?!"

"Calm down, Mr. King." Chloe tried not to upset him too much. "Most of us used to be criminals. We all did bad things."

"Yeah, but I am not a killer. I was just doing my job." He insisted, "And that asshole provoked me, when I was really sad. Once I started shooting, I just couldn't stop…"

"Yes, we all understand what you feel." Chloe assured him, "We all had those moments. Believe me, I wished I hadn't done some bad things myself."

Henry's face twisted, looked like he was about to cry.

Chloe said it gently but firmly, "But what happened already happened, you cannot take it back."

Then she tried to cheer him up, "Actually, you should make it as your advantage. Down here in this cruel world, killing is encouraged. The more you killed, the more honorable you are. Because I personally don't want you to stop killing at just 5, I want you to kill 50, 500 or more. So wear your death count as a badge. I want you to singlehandedly kill the whole tribe for all of us, if you can. So buff up, soldier, show us how to kill those shitty hunters."

All cheered for him. Henry gathered himself up and spoke, "Alright, Chloe, I appreciate what you said. I think those ass-holes stopped shooting and ran away, not because they didn't want to kill us all, but because they had seen a couple of rifles in the front row. They didn't know how many more guns we had, and how skillful we were with them, so they just fled before we had a chance to open fire back at them."

"Hm…" Chloe nodded, "But that didn't contradict the theory the professor has here, right? They are still nomadic hunters."

"Those shitheads are hunters alright." Henry agreed, "They were the ones who killed the bear before. They were the one who used poison arrows as their primary weapons. I suppose they must have spears and knives for close-range combat, but they were no match for our guns and rifles, if we get close to them."

"Good! Then how do we get more guns and rifles?" Chloe asked, "Mark, do you have any ideas?"

"What?" Mark was surprised, "How do I know?"

"You are the local guide." Chloe said, "And boys like guns. Think, do you know any armory or gun ranges around?"

"Yeah, I remember a gun shop nearby." Amber suddenly said. She saw people were staring, "What? Can't a girl like guns too?"

"Is it close to our drop ships?" Chloe asked.

"Roughly the same way." Amber replied, "Why you asked? You want to go back to the drop ship?"

Chloe acknowledged it, "Yup, planning to."

"It's exploded already." Amber was wondering, "It's in a thousand pieces."

"Jerry, you are the rocket expert." Chloe pointed at someone. "Time for you to talk. Hey, Jerry Reynolds!"

"What…?" He seemed to be falling asleep during the meeting, "What did I do?"

"Can we still salvage anything from the drop ship as weapons, or armor?"

"Oh… that... uh... Of course we can." Jerry started to think straight. "Though in pieces, thanks to Chloe here, the drop ship still has tons of space-grade alloy metal, light and tough. They will never get rusted. Yeah, a lot we can salvage from."

"But how do we cut those metals?" Chloe asked, "Do we still have those laser cutters? What about the electricity?"

"Wow...wow, Chloe, slow down. One thing at a time." He raised his hands, "I will figure something out when we get there."

Chloe smiled, "We put all our trust in you, Jerry the rocketman, don't screw it up!"

Jerry looked at the criminals around him and nervously replied, "No…. I won't."

"Very good! This is better than I expected!" Chloe gladly said, "Today we were slaughtered, but we will come back much stronger and deadlier. If we all work as a group, then we will be the hunters, not them. Are you with me?"

YEAHHHH! Almost everyone hollered, except Mark.

"Chloe…" He was a little hesitant.

"Yes, Mark?"

"Can we just leave this place behind?" He asked, "We can just find some place safe and settle down. Why do we have to go back to Montreal?"

"Oh, silly." Chloe cheerfully said, "Because I want you and Amber to find your parents. And I want to meet them and ask for their blessing."

Mark's face turned red, "But what if they are all dead, we will risk our lives for nothing."

"No, no, my dear." She assured him, "Whatever I do for you, it will always be something, at least to me."

Chloe then announced to everyone, "Once we are in Montreal, we will find enough food and shelter for many years. Plus I heard that there were many lovely men and women in that city. I have no doubt you will find your own, like I found Mark here. So, do you guys want a happy life? Follow me and let's go to Montreal !"

MONTREAL! They all bellowed out their passion. Hope and purpose are indeed very powerful incentives.

===#===#===

Whitman woke up in his jeep. Sweat filled up his forehead.

"Oh... My...God! Holy Cow!" He talked to the air in a trembling voice, "I went through the apocalypse again! This time from Helen's view. That was so so scary!"

Becca showed up in the passenger's seat, "What did you see? Was she OK?"

"No, she was not." He described the horrible scene, "First I heard a huge blast. All the glasses were broken, then whole floor was jumping up like a roller coaster ride! She and her father was blown away for probably 20 yards."

"Was she seriously injured?" Becca seemed quite concerned with Helen.

Whitman shook his head, "No, her father suffered the most from the impact. He might have some broken bones with that brutal landing. Helen seemed OK."

"What happened after that?"

"Then I woke up here." Whitman answered honestly, "With pissed pants."

Becca seemed a little disappointed, "Thank you. Please keep me informed about your 'dreams'."

"Will do, will do." Whitman promised, "You really care about her, right?"

"So do you." Becca said, "Otherwise you will not dream so much about her. It's your subconsciousness asking for Helen's memories."

"Oh, so that's how it works?" Whitman was intrigued, "Do you mean if I am no longer interested, her memories will not show up in my dreams?"

"I suppose so." Becca thought about it. "But for now, you are so deep in her story, that you couldn't help thinking about her in your dreams."

"God damn it! I am really a pervert!" Whitman couldn't help cursing himself.

"No, it's not like that." Becca disagreed, "You care about her like a daughter, because as we both know, she was actually a very nice and sweet girl."

Whitman nodded.

"Thank you, Becca!" A girl's voice came out of nowhere, almost gave him a heart attack.

"Is that you? Helen?" Becca anxiously called out, "Come back, Helen! I have so much to tell you. Come back!"

Whitman looked at Becca's image intensively.

After a while, Becca lowered her head, "She's gone."

Whitman tried holding Becca's hand, but of course failed, "Just give her some time. We are making progress."

Becca slowly nodded, then she disappeared.

...

Time to hit the road, American style! With his sunglasses on, Whitman drove fast with wind blowing hard and nodded to the rock music in the jeep. The strong beats shook the interior.

The journey to Mount Weather was almost over. He couldn't wait any longer to see his wife, and his new born son. He started to wonder, What should I tell them?

"Oh, Lucy, honey, long time no see." While driving, he started to practice the conversation, "I know I disappeared for a few months. No worries. I don't need oxygen mask to live outside. Wish you can do the same…"

"Uh… Why?... Uh… Because my blood now is different, Becca, uh, someone in Polis, oh no, New Metro, modified my DNA. Uh… no… I am afraid you and my son cannot do that. Outside, both of you will die in minutes.

Oh, I am sorry that this is a bad topic. Shall we talk about something else? Uh… like I see a big gorilla. Yeah, king kong size. She chased me and almost ate me…"

He turned off the music, and thought to himself, Seriously, man, you got to be careful with your words. You don't want to upset her.

Then he started the practice again, "Honey, believe me, I was just searching for something called 'gene modder' in that city. Nothing dangerous. They were all friendly to me, except that crazy girl Helen. Who? She was the leader of them... Nah... It's OK. She's dead now.

Sorry, Lucy, that was a bad thing to say. How about something good? Oh, right, in Polis I became the Commander. It's like a mayor or something. No, no elections, I fought the crazy girl Helen, killed her and I became the new Commander.

Holy shit! This is the worst. I am so so sorry! Honey, I am not trying to upset you, really, I am just trying to tell you the truth. Becca, come out, you can prove it. Tell her that I am just saying the truth.

Oh, yeah, right. Becca cannot talk to you, she can only talk to me…"

SHITTTTTT! Whitman hit the brake, the jeep jerked to a sudden stop.

Only at that moment, Whitman realized that he had to tell a lot of lies to everyone, including his wife.

… …

"At ease, soldier!" The President of the United States, Jason Wallace, was very glad to see his best scout plus good friend came back in one piece.

"Thank you, Sir!" Whitman performed a perfect salute with such familiarity that he missed it. This is his good old days! His good old life was so much simpler!

"So what can you tell me about the New Metro?" Jason asked, "Anything special?"

"Not much, Sir." Whitman started to lie, "Not much happened in the city."

"Really?" Jason asked, "Then how about the gene modder? Did you find it?"

"The leader of the cult, Bill Cadogen, destroyed the machine, sir." He replied. More lies.

"Why? That machine should be valuable to him too."

"Because he's an evil man, sir." Whitman just made up something, "He only wanted his own cult to survive, not others."

"That's such a pitiful man! The machine could have helped so many more. Tell me, how many people went through the gene modding?" Jason asked.

"About 1000, Sir."

The president nodded, "Good! If only 1000 people had the gene modded, it will take a very long time for them to be a threat to us. The New Metro is too far from us. Let those people mind their own business for the next 200 years."

"Good thinking, sir!" Whitman concurred, but at the same time, he remembered something odd.

When he was out of the hospital, the population of Polis seemed much more than 1000. None of them were wearing any suits. What happened?

Jason regarded his drifting mind as something else, "You must miss your wife and your son terribly. Go ahead and see them. Give me the detail report when you have time."

"Thank you, Sir!" He saluted again and hurried out of the room.

"Huuuuu…" He let out a long breath. Lying was not easy for him, especially to the President.

He thought, Now it's time to see Lucy. More lies are needed, and it will be even harder.

"Stop your fucking lies!" Lucy scolded him, "You are so bad at it! Tell me what actually happened."

"Uh… uh..." Whitman hesitated, "I don't think you want to know."

"Of course I want to know, I am your fucking wife." Lucy bellowed, "For better, for worse, remember? "

He remembered the oath, remembered the happy days they were together, and remembered how long he had left her all alone. He started to cry.

Lucy wiped his tears, "Come on, big daddy. Don't be such a baby!"

"I am so so sorry!" Whitman kept sobbing, "I did so much wrong to you... I am truly sorry!"

"Did you sleep with other women?" She suddenly asked.

"NO, NO, No." He denied it immediately, "I swear to God that I didn't have sex with anyone but you."

Lucy smiled, "Then it's all OK. Relax, tell me everything."

"I can tell you, but…" Whitman turned his head around and said, "But you cannot tell any soul in this mountain, not even to the President."

"Yup, I promise. I don't like that guy anyway."

Whitman then asked the air, "Becca, can I tell her about you?"

Lucy put her hand to the mouth, astonished.

One hour later.

"You two are just out of your Fucking minds!" Lucy protested, "Becca, how dare you put my husband in such a dangerous situation?"

Whitman said, "No, no, she's not. You know I am a very stealthy scout. With Becca's help I can be even better."

"Still. You two are planning to go meet this...Red Queen?" She couldn't believe it. "How did you even get close to her?"

"We will...uh...figure something out."

"I knew it. Joe, you are always like this. No plans and no intel, you just go with the guts." She berated him, then pointed at the air, "Becca, you should at least come up with some plan first. I know you want to save thousands in your city, but this is like asking my husband for a suicide."

Whitman and Becca looked at each other, neither could say anything.

A baby's crying came out from next door.

"Shoot! Adrian is awake now." Lucy mixed some warm milk and hurried away. Whitman followed her closely.

"Hey, Baby! Look who's here?" Lucy changed to a completely different voice, "It is your daddy! Say Daddy!"

"Wow, he grew quite large now." Whitman looked at his son with moist eyes, "8 months already, huh?"

Andian started crying loud.

"Oh, baby don't cry. Baby don't cry." Lucy held him and shook him gently. " I know, daddy is bad, very very bad, I know."

"Can I hold him?" Whitman showed his trembling arms, "Just for one minute."

Lucy carefully put the baby in his arms. Looking at the baby's innocent face, Whitman wanted to cry again.

"Oh, stop that, both of you!" Lucy's eyes had tears too, "You are making me sad."

"I am so sorry, Lucy!" Whitman felt so guilty. "I gave you so much trouble."

She shook her head, "No, don't say that, Joe. We will figure something out, OK?"

Whitman nodded. Lucy embraced him with the baby. They stayed that way for a long long time.

After the baby fell asleep again, they went back to the living room.

"I have to say I envy you, Becca." Lucy talked in her normal way again, "You are with my husband all the time. You see everything he sees and hear everything he hears. And I had to stay in this Goddamn mountain worrying about him all day long."

Whitman had to say it for Becca, "I envy you too. My husband died in an island, and I couldn't see him any more. I cannot even return to that island."

"Why not?"

"She just doesn't want to, OK?" Whitman blurted. That's a sad place for Becca.

"Hey, you are helping her now?" Lucy was not pleased, "Looking at the mess she gave you. Now you have to be this so-called 'Commander' and risk your neck for her people, but not for your own family. Do you think it's fair?"

"Uh…" Becca wanted to say something, but Whitman stopped her.

"Now what?" Lucy felt more jealousy, "Talking only between you two? Gosh, that's my husband, Becca. Not yours."

"I am sorry, Lucy." Whitman said, " I just asked her to disappear."

"So?"

"Now it's just you and me, OK?" Whitman said, "Let me talk straight to you."

"Go ahead, give me your best shot."

"Before Polis, no, New Metro, I always felt my life had not much purpose. Yeah, I knew I was protecting the President of the US, but the truth is, the United States no longer exists. All I was doing was salvaging paintings for an old man.

Yes, I was so happy that I married you, and we were having a baby, but in Polis, I found my true calling, I found my purpose. I followed a great leader, who was trying her best to save her people, and she even sacrificed her life doing that. I truly admired her.

But now she's dead. Somehow God had passed her burden on me, asking me to take her job, and I have to do it, because if I don't, the city will be gone, and she died for nothing..."

Lucy gazed on her man. Tears went down her cheek. She knew him, and what he was about to do. Whenever the duty called, he would always follow, no matter how hard or dangerous.

"So you see? I cannot just abandon the city for its own fate. I cannot allow those savages come in and kill everyone without a fight. I probably will die just looking for this Red Queen, but you know what? At least I tried my best, at least you can tell Adrian his father died to protect his people, and you both will be proud of me..."

"Stop, stop...don't say anymore…" Lucy cried in his arms.

"Wait a minute!" Lucy suddenly think of something, "The savages you were talking about. What do you call them?"

"Ass-get-done."

"Ass… Such a strange name." Lucy showed a little doubt, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, that little brat told me that. Pretty sure."

"You said that girl wore some mix leather coat? With a tattoo on her face?"

"Yeah, I did. Ring a bell?"

Lucy put her hand in her mouth again, "My God. It did ring a bell!"

Mount Weather's jail level.

"Hi, Dennis, it's been a long time." Whitman greeted his old friend.

"Oh, wow! Isn't that our best scout? Welcome home, Joe!" Dennis came up and hugged him like a bear.

"Not so tight, please." Whitman felt a little suffocating, "Good to see you too, big man!"

Dennis let go of him, "So you bring anything for me? Wine, Vodka, anything?"

Whitman gave him a bottle of VSOP Whisky.

"Oh, you shouldn't have." Dennis had a wide grin. "Now I owe you one. Who do I need to kill?"

"Actually there is a small matter." Whitman slowly said, "I … uh… want to see someone in custody."

… …

The prisoner was in a straitjacket, which limited most of his movements. Yet his dark tattoo remained on his face.

Dennis talked to Whitman, "It's no use. We are not even sure he can speak English. Even when he was sleep-talking, we only caught some words that no one understood."

"Hm...Yeah, he probably cannot speak English, but he did try to kill himself, right?"

"That's right. He did his best trying to die, but we won't allow it."

"How did you even catch him?" Whitman wondered.

"He was obviously scouting this area alone, so your own unit shot him a tranquilizer, and he was down."

"Ha… So much for 'one kills a hundred'." Whitman couldn't help blurted out.

"What does that mean?" Dennis asked, "What's that?"

"No, nothing." Whitman lied, "Dennis, can I talk to him alone?"

Dannis shrugged, "Be my guest. It will be a miracle if he can talk."

"Is there any camera in this room?" Whitman whispered to him. "Don't want any recording."

"Yes, I will turn it off." Dannis nodded to him, "We tried beating him up already. It didn't work."

Whitman had a gesture of "let me handle this", and Dennis stopped his yapping and went away.

… …

Whitman sat in front of the man, observing his face. The tattoo was not the same one that little girl had, nor was it looked like the tattoo of those two big Azgedian. He even asked the AI to replay the video recording for that meeting, just to be sure.

Hm...Seems like each village of Azgeda had different types of tattoos. The little girl's did look like wind blowing the clouds, and the other two big guys had some birds like in their face, and this guy has a type of leaves on his forehead. Maybe this is the way they distinguish people from different tribes?

The Azgedian in Straitjacket started to yawn. The interrogation was too tame.

"AZGEDA." Suddenly Whitman just say it evenly, and he saw the man stopped his yawning in the middle, and looked at him with wide-opened eyes.

Got ya!

So he continued to recite the girl's words:

"Pas houd fleim op, oso Raz Heiplana hon wigod in Hitri de Soncha."

He didn't have photographic memory. It was the AI in his brain which play the sentence over and over. He just repeated it.

It was enough to have a shock effect on the prisoner. He looked at Whitman with astonishment.

"Raz Heiplana" Whitman said, "oso Raz Heiplana." By the AI's analysis, this most likely meant "the Red Queen".

The man nodded, "Oso Raz Heiplana." He also said.

Good, now you speak!

Whitman use two fingers to point to his eyes, "Raz Heiplana." I want to see your Red Queen.

The man looked at him with great doubt, then he asked, "Gaf em in? Cos belaik?"

What did he just say? Whitman was baffled. He knew only one line of Azgedian.

Becca prompted him, "Say 'Hon Raz Heiplana in"."

Whitman gave her a puzzled look, she explained, "I didn't know what he said, so I just repeated with 'I am seeking her'."

Alright, worth a try. So he said it.

This time the man's eyes grew big. "Hon Heiplana in?!"

Whitman nodded to confirm.

He practically jumped up and started to speak very fast. Whitman couldn't even catch a single word. Then he saw the man kept looking at the knots of the straitjacket, "Sis Ai au!"

Oh, he wants me to open the jacket. Whitman hesitated. Will he commit the suicide right after the jacket is off? Or worse, he will try to kill me first, then commit suicide?

He took a quick look at Becca. She shrugged.

Alright, go with my guts again. I don't think he is capable of killing me with his bare hands.

With no more hesitation, he loosened the knots for him. Very soon the straitjacket was off.

"Piecia, lukot!" He patted Whitman's shoulder, "Yuj piecia!"

" Uh? You're welcome?" Whitman blurted.

"Breik 'so au?" He asked, and looked at the door.

"Yeah, breik 'so au." Whitman agreed. He opened the door and stuck his head out carefully.

Dennis was enjoying the Whisky. He didn't know there were drugs in it.

Only 5 minutes later, he crouched on the table and fell asleep.

Good! Can't believe my plan is working!

He walked to Dennis and started taking his clothes off. The Azgedian would wear his clothes as a disguise, and they would both get out of Mount Weather before anyone found Dennis.

Which also means, he would be a fugitive of Mount Weather from then on. It will be another long time until he could see his wife and son again, if that was even possible.

No time to think of that. Right now this guy is my best shot to see the Red Queen.

Whitman helped the Azgedian wearing the jumpsuit of Dennis, then put some dirt on the name tag so it's harder to read.

He put a finger on his lips, "Don't say anything, just shut up."

The Azgedian even understood, "Shof op." He also put his finger on his lips.

"Yeah, shof up." Whitman couldn't help wondering. Maybe Azgedian language was not so hard after all.

Now all I need to do, is taking the elevator 10 level up, and took one of the jeeps. If anyone asked, I will say the President gave me another secret task.

The elevator door opened, Jason Wallace was inside.

"Hi, Joe! What a coincidence!" Jason exclaimed, "I am just looking for you."

Oh, no! Talking about coincidence! You are the last one I want to see now. Whitman couldn't believe he had such bad luck.

"Come in, what are you waiting for?" Jason beckoned him, "Do you know that there is a new UFO landed in Canada…"

He stopped when he took a look at the Azgedian, "Hey, you are not Dennis."

An alarm raised up, "Warning! Prisoner break out. Warning! Prisoner break out!"

"What the hell is this, Joe?" Jason asked Whitman.

"I am so sorry, Sir!" Whitman pointed his gun at the President, whom he swore to protect. "I am truly truly sorry!"