I own no part of Rowell, the series, or claim any rights. The plot is
mine, and sorry if it is similar to anyone else's.
A short distance away.
"...as the devastating crimes of murder continue throughout Western and Central America, the government continues to deny a connection between deaths of government officials and high ranking members of the United States Corporate World. The latest victims are this family." The screen changed to a picture of two happy looking people and a baby boy between them. "Mark and Celia Sanders burnt remains were found in the fire that engulfed their home last Friday evening sometime around 10 pm. Their son, little Zachary Sanders' remains have yet to be found, however it is stipulated that he certainly perished in the fire. Mark Sanders was a prominent attorney for a large government owned corporation that was high in production of state-of-the-art products and served several countries still on friendly terms with the U.S. Lately Mr. Sanders had been placed in charged of a high priority case involving the sale of Top Secret devices to a Middle Eastern country. His colleagues had very little to say except that they mourn the loss of a good friend. This leaves us the cold hard facts. In the past three months there have been fourteen murders, several of which that have been committed in the same gruesome manner as the Sanders murder, and all left with the same calling card: an elaborate circular symbol burnt into a tree or the ground. All names connect in only one way. A project abandoned in the late 50's called A0573621EZ---also known as "Assassination." All names except Mark and Celia Sanders. What connection do they have with the other twelve souls? What could they possibly have known or have that could have caused them to have such a grievous and terrible thing like this happen to them? Maybe one day this reporter will find out the truth. Until then, this is Adam Stratford reporting live from Seattle, Washington."
"Thanks Adam, we will be continuing this story tonight at nine- thirty. Now on a lighter note-" With a push of the button Maria turned the television off, and sat back against her couch. "God I hate the news," she muttered. "It is always so dreary." She rested her head back on the cushion of the couch and sighed. Down the hall she could hear the fumbling of a key in the lock and a moment later the sexy drawl of the man she loved.
"Maria?" he called out, his voice vibrating through the hallway. Maria lifted her head and answered, "I'm in the living room." Michael Guerin strode rebelliously into the living room, very much like he entered everything. He took one look at her pajamas and smirked. "Vegging out in front of the TV again are we? Be careful, one day you might become a fat blob of who you once were and I'll leave you for some hot babe down on Sussex Road!"
Maria jumped up from her seat and sauntered over to Michael and gave him quick hug, and a pat on the tummy. "I wouldn't be talking lover boy!" She smiled innocently, as Michael frowned and ran a hand over his flat stomach. The phone rang and Maria turned to pick it up, and shrieked into the phone as Michael slapped her butt with his hand, and hurried out of the room. Her voice full of laugher, she answered the phone, "Hello?" Maria's smile faded. She slammed the phone down almost missing the phone's cradle. "Michael!"
Isabel stared at the painting one last time and turned to face the expectant crowd. "Excellent color. I want it placed in the Blue Room. The lighting in there will give it more life!" Amidst the "ohs" and "ahs" of the people surrounding Isabel, a small mouse-like woman walked hesitantly up to her, and said in a scared, squeaky voice, "Mrs. Rodriguez, you have an appointment at four to discuss the removal of the Blackington paintings from the exhibit, your interview with Donna Michelle is at four- thirty, the Dennisons would like a word with you about tomorrow's Gallery showing, and your husband called to remind you that you have dinner reservations at Phillipe de Sez later tonight at eight-thirty."
Isabel turned away from her many admirers, her smile seemingly paste on her face as she contemplated her obviously frightened assistant. "Gloria," she remarked, a smile still on her face so as not to alarm her 'followers,' muttered, "There is no way I am talking to the Dennisons about anything, they will only want to haggle their way into a sale. As for the Blackingtons, when I go into my office to speak to them, give me five minutes them come in and say it is an emergency. Do you understand?"
Gloria's pen wrote furiously across the page of her planner, and she looked up at Isabel with total admiration. "Yes Mrs. Rodriguez! And I would like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here at the Art Gallery, it really is a dream---"
Isabel eyed two movers hauling the ugliest painting she had ever seen, and before Gloria could finish, Isabel pushed her way through the crowd and hurried over to the men. "No, I am sorry, that painting is not being put up in this gallery, send it back." The movers reluctantly retraced their steps, as Isabel's cell phone went off. "Hello?" she said, and immediately brightened. "Hey you! God you will not believe the crap..." she paused to listen for several moments, her smile slowly sinking. "Yes. We'll be there. Bye." She ended the call and then punched in several digits and pressed 'Send'. A few moments later, "Yeah, babe? Change of plans for tonight. Ah huh. Yeah, I'll explain everything. Okay, bye, love you!" Isabel turned to the crowd and searched until she found the head of her assistant. "GLORIA!"
Michael, Maria, Isabel and Jesse sat at Max and Liz's table later that night and all were nervous and out of sorts. "So you have been feeling some wicked vibes or something?" Michael demanded.
Liz shrugged. "Look, I know it seems a little far fetched, but considering all we have been through, it doesn't hurt to be cautious. Now Isabel, you told me a few days ago that you have been feeling weird and kind of out of it lately. It was something you can't explain. And Michael, that night you had a dream that freaked you out, but you couldn't remember it. Well, since that day I have been feeling this nasty vibe. I didn't really think about it, but this morning it became more intense, like it was focusing on me, and was coming straight at me."
Max nodded. "And I have been having some really bad headaches the past couple of days. To be honest, they started months ago, but not as bad as the last few days."
Jesse shook his head. "So you think something is going down?"
Isabel put her arms on the table. "Well it is not the first time something weird like this has happened. And Liz's abilities are growing. I have to say, I have been feeling wretched lately. I put it off as work stress, but it can't all be just that."
"Yeah and what about that whole June 20th thing! Max and Michael both had dreams that they can't remember, Isabel you called and said that you could come over because you suddenly felt really sick and me! Well, I got the worst vibe I have ever felt. I can't all be just coincidence!"
Maria sat up quickly from her seat. "What day did you say this all happened?"
Liz frowned. "June 20th. I remember because that was the day that Alicia brought baby Corey over for the first time for a visit."
Michael watched his girlfriend's face light up. "What's up Maria?"
"On the news this afternoon I saw this program on the mysterious murders happening across the western half of America. You know, the ones the governments are denying any link to?"
Michael's face was blank, but the others nodded. Maria continued. "In Seattle, a couple was burned alive in their home on that day. For three months their have been murders, and all except for that couple, the victims were once part of a military operation in the 50's. Have these things been going on since April?" Everyone but Jesse nodded. "There has to be a connection between that and this! Oh shit, what time is it?"
Jesse looked down at his watch. "Nine twenty-eight, why?" Maria jumped up from her seat and rushed over to the television. She surfed through the channels briefly until she found what she was looking for. The familiar voice of Adam Stratford floated through the speakers, and Maria waited until the picture of the Sanders family showed up on the screen. "There they are! Those are the people who were murdered last Friday!"
Max and Liz sank down onto their couch, while Isabel, Jesse, Michael and Maria sat on the floor. "...this station feels for the loss of these fourteen people, an deven more so for little Zachary Sanders, who is still as of this time, presumed missing, as his remains have not been found." The camera changed to a photo of little Zachary by himself. Max began to feel lightheaded, and leaned forward slightly, cradling his head in his hands.
~*Zan...Zan...You must help your son...Please, he is in danger...I can not protect him by myself, they are after us...God, please Max, he needs you! Little Zan needs you...Don't let them take him...Max I can not keep them back for much longer...you must save your son...HELP US MAX!*~
"Oh God," Max choked out. He lifted tear-filled eyes to the screen. The picture of little Zachary Sanders was still on the screen. Slowly he got up and went to kneel in front of the screen, his eyes taking in every detail of the child's face. "Max?" Isabel asked, fearfully.
Max turned to face his family. "It's my son. This boy is my son." He looked up into the face of his beloved Liz. "And he is in danger."
A short distance away.
"...as the devastating crimes of murder continue throughout Western and Central America, the government continues to deny a connection between deaths of government officials and high ranking members of the United States Corporate World. The latest victims are this family." The screen changed to a picture of two happy looking people and a baby boy between them. "Mark and Celia Sanders burnt remains were found in the fire that engulfed their home last Friday evening sometime around 10 pm. Their son, little Zachary Sanders' remains have yet to be found, however it is stipulated that he certainly perished in the fire. Mark Sanders was a prominent attorney for a large government owned corporation that was high in production of state-of-the-art products and served several countries still on friendly terms with the U.S. Lately Mr. Sanders had been placed in charged of a high priority case involving the sale of Top Secret devices to a Middle Eastern country. His colleagues had very little to say except that they mourn the loss of a good friend. This leaves us the cold hard facts. In the past three months there have been fourteen murders, several of which that have been committed in the same gruesome manner as the Sanders murder, and all left with the same calling card: an elaborate circular symbol burnt into a tree or the ground. All names connect in only one way. A project abandoned in the late 50's called A0573621EZ---also known as "Assassination." All names except Mark and Celia Sanders. What connection do they have with the other twelve souls? What could they possibly have known or have that could have caused them to have such a grievous and terrible thing like this happen to them? Maybe one day this reporter will find out the truth. Until then, this is Adam Stratford reporting live from Seattle, Washington."
"Thanks Adam, we will be continuing this story tonight at nine- thirty. Now on a lighter note-" With a push of the button Maria turned the television off, and sat back against her couch. "God I hate the news," she muttered. "It is always so dreary." She rested her head back on the cushion of the couch and sighed. Down the hall she could hear the fumbling of a key in the lock and a moment later the sexy drawl of the man she loved.
"Maria?" he called out, his voice vibrating through the hallway. Maria lifted her head and answered, "I'm in the living room." Michael Guerin strode rebelliously into the living room, very much like he entered everything. He took one look at her pajamas and smirked. "Vegging out in front of the TV again are we? Be careful, one day you might become a fat blob of who you once were and I'll leave you for some hot babe down on Sussex Road!"
Maria jumped up from her seat and sauntered over to Michael and gave him quick hug, and a pat on the tummy. "I wouldn't be talking lover boy!" She smiled innocently, as Michael frowned and ran a hand over his flat stomach. The phone rang and Maria turned to pick it up, and shrieked into the phone as Michael slapped her butt with his hand, and hurried out of the room. Her voice full of laugher, she answered the phone, "Hello?" Maria's smile faded. She slammed the phone down almost missing the phone's cradle. "Michael!"
Isabel stared at the painting one last time and turned to face the expectant crowd. "Excellent color. I want it placed in the Blue Room. The lighting in there will give it more life!" Amidst the "ohs" and "ahs" of the people surrounding Isabel, a small mouse-like woman walked hesitantly up to her, and said in a scared, squeaky voice, "Mrs. Rodriguez, you have an appointment at four to discuss the removal of the Blackington paintings from the exhibit, your interview with Donna Michelle is at four- thirty, the Dennisons would like a word with you about tomorrow's Gallery showing, and your husband called to remind you that you have dinner reservations at Phillipe de Sez later tonight at eight-thirty."
Isabel turned away from her many admirers, her smile seemingly paste on her face as she contemplated her obviously frightened assistant. "Gloria," she remarked, a smile still on her face so as not to alarm her 'followers,' muttered, "There is no way I am talking to the Dennisons about anything, they will only want to haggle their way into a sale. As for the Blackingtons, when I go into my office to speak to them, give me five minutes them come in and say it is an emergency. Do you understand?"
Gloria's pen wrote furiously across the page of her planner, and she looked up at Isabel with total admiration. "Yes Mrs. Rodriguez! And I would like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here at the Art Gallery, it really is a dream---"
Isabel eyed two movers hauling the ugliest painting she had ever seen, and before Gloria could finish, Isabel pushed her way through the crowd and hurried over to the men. "No, I am sorry, that painting is not being put up in this gallery, send it back." The movers reluctantly retraced their steps, as Isabel's cell phone went off. "Hello?" she said, and immediately brightened. "Hey you! God you will not believe the crap..." she paused to listen for several moments, her smile slowly sinking. "Yes. We'll be there. Bye." She ended the call and then punched in several digits and pressed 'Send'. A few moments later, "Yeah, babe? Change of plans for tonight. Ah huh. Yeah, I'll explain everything. Okay, bye, love you!" Isabel turned to the crowd and searched until she found the head of her assistant. "GLORIA!"
Michael, Maria, Isabel and Jesse sat at Max and Liz's table later that night and all were nervous and out of sorts. "So you have been feeling some wicked vibes or something?" Michael demanded.
Liz shrugged. "Look, I know it seems a little far fetched, but considering all we have been through, it doesn't hurt to be cautious. Now Isabel, you told me a few days ago that you have been feeling weird and kind of out of it lately. It was something you can't explain. And Michael, that night you had a dream that freaked you out, but you couldn't remember it. Well, since that day I have been feeling this nasty vibe. I didn't really think about it, but this morning it became more intense, like it was focusing on me, and was coming straight at me."
Max nodded. "And I have been having some really bad headaches the past couple of days. To be honest, they started months ago, but not as bad as the last few days."
Jesse shook his head. "So you think something is going down?"
Isabel put her arms on the table. "Well it is not the first time something weird like this has happened. And Liz's abilities are growing. I have to say, I have been feeling wretched lately. I put it off as work stress, but it can't all be just that."
"Yeah and what about that whole June 20th thing! Max and Michael both had dreams that they can't remember, Isabel you called and said that you could come over because you suddenly felt really sick and me! Well, I got the worst vibe I have ever felt. I can't all be just coincidence!"
Maria sat up quickly from her seat. "What day did you say this all happened?"
Liz frowned. "June 20th. I remember because that was the day that Alicia brought baby Corey over for the first time for a visit."
Michael watched his girlfriend's face light up. "What's up Maria?"
"On the news this afternoon I saw this program on the mysterious murders happening across the western half of America. You know, the ones the governments are denying any link to?"
Michael's face was blank, but the others nodded. Maria continued. "In Seattle, a couple was burned alive in their home on that day. For three months their have been murders, and all except for that couple, the victims were once part of a military operation in the 50's. Have these things been going on since April?" Everyone but Jesse nodded. "There has to be a connection between that and this! Oh shit, what time is it?"
Jesse looked down at his watch. "Nine twenty-eight, why?" Maria jumped up from her seat and rushed over to the television. She surfed through the channels briefly until she found what she was looking for. The familiar voice of Adam Stratford floated through the speakers, and Maria waited until the picture of the Sanders family showed up on the screen. "There they are! Those are the people who were murdered last Friday!"
Max and Liz sank down onto their couch, while Isabel, Jesse, Michael and Maria sat on the floor. "...this station feels for the loss of these fourteen people, an deven more so for little Zachary Sanders, who is still as of this time, presumed missing, as his remains have not been found." The camera changed to a photo of little Zachary by himself. Max began to feel lightheaded, and leaned forward slightly, cradling his head in his hands.
~*Zan...Zan...You must help your son...Please, he is in danger...I can not protect him by myself, they are after us...God, please Max, he needs you! Little Zan needs you...Don't let them take him...Max I can not keep them back for much longer...you must save your son...HELP US MAX!*~
"Oh God," Max choked out. He lifted tear-filled eyes to the screen. The picture of little Zachary Sanders was still on the screen. Slowly he got up and went to kneel in front of the screen, his eyes taking in every detail of the child's face. "Max?" Isabel asked, fearfully.
Max turned to face his family. "It's my son. This boy is my son." He looked up into the face of his beloved Liz. "And he is in danger."