--o0o--


November 2, 1947


There was nothing left.

"And then God said unto him," The voice once again filled the silent void of the stone-cluttered yard of decay. "'You shall know no pain, for I am the Rock which rejuvenates the worthy, and those who drink of my blessed Cup shall be immune to earthly ills. You shall know no loneliness, for I am the Shepherd who guides the righteous, and those who enter my House shall be given great company.'"

It was a solemn, unbearably cold day to have chosen for such a daunting, unbearable task. The first snow of the year had already fallen onto Rome and the surrounding areas; there were no leaves on the trees, no birds in the air. And now, in St. Peter's Cemetery, there was now a funeral.

It had first been held in the church of the same name; after two hours, it had been moved to this hallowed place, under a grove of trees, for the end of the service. Here, there was the local chaplain, a military man who was not Roman Catholic in denomination, the small, huddled congregation of people who had come to pay their respects, the eight Marines of the Honor Guard brought in from Washington, and the silence. Dead silence.

"When Jesus gave his life for our sins, he told us that though we should die on earth, he too died so that we may be purified." The chaplain looked upon the quiet group, silently willing his sore throat to hold through the end of the service. "He willed through the believers that our bodies would one day find resurrection, and we will once again stand in his awesome presence to know life everlasting."

In the middle if the group, and in front of the chaplain, was a coffin, one made of a strong oak that was indigenous to the Rome area. It was a good-sized box, six feet in length and four feet in width, and it gently glazed over with a chestnut finish. Draped over it was an American flag, a sign to those who may have passed by in wonder that the person being mourned had served in the military both during and after the war. No one stopped to wonder how he had died; to most people outside the circle, it didn't matter.

"The man who we give our final blessings to, Captain Scott Johnson Garnet, was a United States Army Air Force pilot. He fought in Salerno, and saw many of his fellow pilots fall from the onslaught of evil which had attacked us all. He lived on, and he strode to never forget the lessons that war had taught him. For God knows that he was righteous, and that all he did in his life was just." The chaplain looked again at his crowd. "He was not a decorated soldier. At one point, he was even caught by the hand of Satan's servant that threatened the world. But he escaped, and the military rewards of a war halfway around the world mattered little to him when he returned to his loving family, and to the community he came to call his home. He was not a native Roman, but he touched our lives like only family did. He leaves behind his family whom loved him so much; his wife, Mary, and their young child, Sherralynne."

The wife of the deceased stood by the coffin with the child in her arms as the chaplain spoke these words. She wore all black, which made her paled face, even under the veil cloth, stick out against the snow on the ground. She looked down as the chaplain continued his sermon, wondering if anyone had picked up on was would have been an obvious omission that had been made. It was an intentional exclusion of certain parties, whose mention would have no doubt caused hard feelings and revived unsightly memories for several of the people in attendance.

Mary silently looked over to her right, over to two figured who stood at the other edge of the coffin. If the two Yeagers, Chuck and Glennis, had picked up on the missing name, they showed no sign of it.

"And so, Lord, we ask that you take care of our beloved friend as he greets you sitting upon your Throne. Take him into Your heart in death as we had taken him into our hearts in life. Know that he was a straight and honest man, who never once broke the Commandments you gave to Moses and who never questioned the covenant Our Father made with Abraham. Your existence upon earth enabled a man like this to join you with your Angels to sing your praises and to watch down upon your chosen children." The chaplain closed his Bible. "May his soul rest in peace, and may his spirit be with you, forever and ever. Amen."
"Amen."

The crowd silently crossed themselves as seven members of the Holor Guard slowly stepped into line, several feet from the grave site. Those who held the flags up placed them into holsters before taking out their guns. Then, after a moment's hesitation, the eighth member took out a bugle and began to play "Taps".

*BOOM! BOOOM! BOOOOM!!!*

Mary winced at the first shots; she had never heard seven guns go off at once, let alone one gun, and it startled her. It also startled her young daughter, whose hand the new widow was holding, who promptly gave a squeak of fright. She buried her head into her mother's black petticoat, whimpering until, finally, the twenty-one gun salute was finished.

"Honor Guard, fall in!"

The group snapped into attention. One by one, the group walked over to the coffin and lifted the flag up. With quick movements the flag was folded into itself, into the required triangular shape. They fell into a two-by-two formation once more, with the second soldier on the right side carrying the flag in his arms.

"Honor Guard, march!"

Silently, the eight silently again marched away from the coffin, and the mourners were left alone. It took several minutes for everyone to realize that they were free to go; even so, few opted to go at that point, and many began to stroll around the coffin, examining it. They could admire the workmanship of the coffin maker; those who wished to look at the job that the caretaker did on the deceased were deprived. It was a closed coffin ceremony.

It was no secret to many there that Scott's body was not in the coffin. The official reason seemed reasonable enough to many there; Scott Garnet had died on September 15, due to a hangar fire that left no remains. There were those, however, that were not so sure of such a story. Several low whispers came from several of the Roman friends of Scott at the sight of his Army friends, particularly of Colonel Boyd. The more inverted whispers hinted that Scott was killed in some other fashion, but something in how he died prevented the Army from giving the body proper burial. More sinister of an idea was that the Army had the body, but they refused to give it to the family because it would compromise national security.

The most outrageous idea was that Scott was perhaps not even killed at all, but rather abducted by aliens. They had supposedly spotted some down in a small town down in New Mexico in a very peculiar incident, but it was a hushed up affair. Very few of the people gathered even knew what the name of the town was, let alone that there had even been an incident.

Damn you, Hedgehog..... Mary watched as people began to look over to her after glancing at the coffin. Why'd you have to go and do this? Why'd you leave?!

Mary's lips silently began to quiver. She did not want to let go yet. She couldn't accept it. She knew full well, too, that what they said was bull. She had gone to see him at the end of September, and had talked to him the night of October 13th. It was inconcievable that the Army would go out of its way to lie to her - her, who knew full well that Scott wasn't dead - and tell her that he had died a month beforehand. She didn't believe that he was dead; even though the group of friends from California mourned, she didn't believe he was truly gone.

Even so, she mourned. She had to. Whatever had truly happened, whatever her head wanted to think, her heart somehow realized that Scott would not return to her or to Sherry in this lifetime. She couldn't bear it. True, their marriage wasn't perfect. True, Scott and she had their problems. But she had seen a change in him in those last months, and in that last visit. She knew somehow it was for the better, and she had been hopeful for their future together. With the war and Hiram's influence gone, she could almost feel that their true happiness was about to begin, that they could truly be a family and forget their divisions.

It was a hope she almost could grasp, only to watch it slip just beyond the reach of her fingertips.

'...Sis....'

The voice made her stop. It was a deep male voice, deeper than Scott's. Mary knew who it was just by the influctions of his Long Island accent; it was one of the last voice she had expected to hear. She turned to face him.

'Hey, Mary.' He had his hair slicked back, and he gave a smile to her in his black clothes. 'I was wondering when you'd notice me.'
'.......Oh my god.....'

She approached him, her heels sinking into the snow with several loud crunches. As she drew closer, it was easy for the man to tell how much sleep she had gotten since hearing the news of her husband's passing, as her eyes were sunken in, and there were black circles as well. Nevertheless, the sight of the man who was her brother seemed to cheer her up, if only in a superficial manner.

'Jake.' She held his face up to hers. 'Is that really you?'
'The one and only.' He was still smiling. 'I'm sorry....I missed the wake. I got caught up in the storm coming in.'
'I see.....'

Jake saw Mary's eyes searching behind him. He knew what she was looking for, and could only shake his head.

'Ma and Pop, they wouldn't come.' He said softly. 'They refused. I'm sorry, sis.'
'N-no....it's....' Mary slowly, sadly, smiled. 'Its good to see anyone come.'
'I know.'

With that, Jake gave Mary a tight hug, squeezing her close to him. As Mary's head rested on Jake's chest, he could feel her body start to heave.

'Come on, sis.' He tilted her head up and wiped her tears. 'Let's get outta here. I don't want to see you crying for nothin', hear?'
'Jake....'
'Mommy!'

Jake's head came up to see a little girl running towards him. She was in a black dress, with a little black petticoat, and her blonde hair was in pigtails. However, parts of the dress were caked in dirt, and her hair was full of leaves. A big smile came across Jake's face as he knelt down to greet her.

"Sherry!' Jake gave the little girl a big hug. 'Oh, you grew bigger in a month, you know that?'
'I know,' Sherry beamed. 'I'm now big enough to climb that tree!'
'Tree?'
'That one over there,' Sherry pointed to the large tree near Scott's coffin. 'It was big, but I got up there.'
'Sherralyne!' Mary looked shocked. 'What were you doing climbing that tree?'

Sherry looked at Mary, then a Jake, with a confused look on her face. The wind began to softly blow around them.

'Daddy let me.' Sherry tilted her head.
'.....What?'
'Daddy let me go up there.'
'Sh....sherry.....' Jake looked at Mary before looking down at Sherry. 'You know....we should probably tell you....about your father, if you don't understand...'
'I understand!' Sherry looked indignant. 'Daddy was sad just like everyone else was sad, because he didn't get to lay in the coffin. He said it looked comfortable.'
'Sherry...?'
'He's right up there, mommy,' Sherry pointed. 'But he's an angel now, so you can't see him if you don't believe. Thats what he told me. See, look! He's waving!'

Mary looked up towards the tree branch Sherry pointed to. There was nothing there save the falling leaves.

'Sherry, I don't see anything....'

....................mary........

Mary stopped. The wind blew gently into her ear, and almost sounded like a voice. Like Scott. Her mouth dropped open.

'Mary?'

mary....

Mary didn't hear Jake; this time, the voice was stronger, and she was more than certain this time it wasn't just the wind playing tricks like in a dream.

Scott....?

Mary was still not completely sure; she still couldn't believe her ears. Then she blinked.

'Mary!'

Suddenly, there was a strong gust of wind, and he was there. He sat perched on the tree branch, his legs calmly swinging from one side to the other. There was a calm look in his eyes; in his face, a tranquil, yet mischievious expression on his face.

Yet with everything Mary could see that was her husband, she realized that he was not just that. Not anymore. For he was not human anymore.

'Oh my god....'

Mary's eyes widened. She took a step back, trying to understand, trying to let it sink in. It seemed impossible that what she was seeing was the form her husband had taken.

'Mary?!' Jake, who obviously could not see Scott, was looking at her with growing concern. 'Mary, what are you looking at?'

There was another moment; their eyes met, and Mary almost lost herself in the hypnotic, pure calm of his eyes. Then, suddenly, he was up on his feet.

'Time's wasting!'

Mary gave a gasp as she watched Scott jump onto the coffin, bouncing off of it with an acrobatic ease unmatchable by any human. Then, with a grin on his face, he began to run out of the cemetary.

'SCOTT!!!!!'

Before Jake could stop her, before she could stop herself, Mary was suddenly after him. She had to stop him. She had to get him, to ask him. She had to know what happened.

'Aow!'

She tripped over her heels as she started out; with a swear or two, she tossed the shoes aside and resumed after him. Her feet, protected only by her nylon pantyhose, met with the cold, snowy ground, and she nearly yelped in surprise.

'MARY!!!!!' She heard Jake's surprised shouts behind her. 'MARY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!? COME BACK!!!!!!'

There was a slowdown from Scott as he got onto Dominick St.; it was just long enough for Mary to be picked up by the draft, and she began to go faster as a result. As soon as she picked up speed, however, Scott suddenly sped up like a bat out of hell, and the next thing Mary knew she was on Black River Blvd., running past cars and street lamps.

Scott! Mary could feel her chest contract with all of the running, but she found herself unable to stop. Wait! Come back!!! Please!!!

------------------------

The nylon in the pantyhose was ripped up and plastered like glue onto Mary's bloodied feet as she ran into the house. She instantly collapsed onto the floor, her breakfast coming up to her throat. She was no runner, and she held her chest as she gasped for air.

Scott......

She was all alone, she knew; there was no one in the house. Scott had suddenly shifted out of sight as she came within two buildings of their house. Without the wind shear to help her, she was, therefore, left to hobble limply across the ice-covered sidewalk, screaming with each step.

My...feet... She was on her knees, and she pushed herself up onto a stair. Ooh......Scott.....Hedgehog....

*CLICK*

Mary's breath stopped. She was instantly up on her feet.

'Scott?'

*SLAM!*

She forced herself to get up, and she began to ascend, her feet leaving faint blood prints as she did. As she went up the stairs as fast as she could, another sound of a door slamming froze her heart. It came from up inside her bedroom.

The closet.

She had just reached the top, and had just managed to open her door, when she was greeted by a blast of wind. With a shout, she tumbled back into a wall, sliding down onto her back as she fell.

*BAM!*

Her eyes focused just in time to see the hazy figure, the creature whom had once been Scott Garnet, suddenly vanish into thin air, the windows flung open as his ways of escaping. Then, just as quickly, he was gone. Mary felt her heart sink.

.......Gone.......

She buried her head in her hands and began to weep. Her fears were true; she would never see her husband again. It shook her deeply, knowing that Scott was there, but that she would not be able to find him. He had been going too fast for her; he was no longer even human. He had died, but had taken on a new form; exactly what it was, she could not completely ascertain.

…..Cold. She struggled to get up. Close the window.

She hobbled into her bedroom - their bedroom - and went about latching the windows up again. It was bitter cold outside for early November; it was at least below the thirty-degree mark. She silently scolded herself for taking her shoes off; her feet, on top of being bloody, were now beginning to numb over. She decided, therefore, to get herself some warm compresses and perhaps a bottle of gin. It would be easy to drown out her miseries when her mind was numbed with her feet; hell, Jake and Sherry would join her.

Finally, she finished latching the rest of the windows up. With a sigh, she turned around, surveying the room that she and her Hedgehog had once shared. She began to walk out…but then stopped.

Oh my god.

Her eyes had glanced upon the closet door, and her heart began to pound. Quickly, her hand grasped the side of the door frame, and her hand was on the door handle.

Oh my god.

Her heart began to race faster. On the door handle was a blue metal hanger. Upon the metal hanger was an item.

Scott….. Her lip began to quiver. Why….

Her hand with the metal hangar raised up as high as it could go, and Mary got a complete picture of what she had been given. It was Scott's jacket, but it was not the same as when she had last seen it. For one thing, it was devoid of the smells of dirt and oils and gases which, as a mechanic, Scott would have covered himself in. Instead, it smelled completely of Scott, of Scott in a desert, as he had been the last time she had seen him, when they had been out in the Mojave together, watching the ethereal desert sunset.

The second, more visual difference was upon the back of the jacket. The little hedgehog emblem was still there, in its odd blue color, staring back at Mary. This time, however, there was a word under it. It was one word, also in blue, but with a small, canary yellow back border. Both colors were awkwardly, perhaps even hurriedly, stitched into the jacket. It was from Scott's sewing, Mary knew, which was somewhat imperfect because some of the yellow stitches on the curved border crossed over clumsily into the blue, a mistake that Scott always made whenever he took on sewing anything.

But despite the imperfection, the word he sewed on was unmistakably clear. One word: SONIC.

It was then Mary knew, and understood. She wiped her eyes, and began to smile, though tears still fell from her eyes. He wasn't gone forever; he was just away for awhile. It had not been an end; it had been a beginning. He was no longer Scott, but only to a small extent was this true. Scott was himself, and "sonic"…..

Thank you……Hedgehog….. Then, though this time it was because she was overjoyed by Scott's message to her, Mary burst into tears again. She did not hear the front door open, nor did she hear Jake's bewildered shouts. Thank you…….

-----------------

It all began that night, as Mary sat herself down in front of her typewriter. It was one of the few things she had left from Long Island, back from when she was younger, and she had not really used it in years. She wondered if it still worked. She had put in a new ink cartridge, but she knew full well that if any of the swing mechanisms were rusted, she would have to get a new typewriter. Or she could write it on paper, but she was resolved to write the story. Scott's story.

*Ch-CINK!*

The O went on the page, black as could be, and Mary gave a sign of relief. She bent her fingers down and up to prepare herself for the haul. Then, before beginning, she looked back on her husband's jacket and smiled.

This is for you.

Then, with a nod and a deep sigh of relaxation, Mary began her work. It would be a long night, but she knew what she had to say. In less than a minute, she had the first paragraph completely down.


Once upon a time, when the world was in a greater turmoil, there lived a small blue hedgehog. He could run faster than the speed of sound, and he was loved and admired by the all innocents he defended. Everyone knew his name; he was a legend of his time. His name was Sonic.