"Now entering Ruggsville," read the sign as they passed by it. Jim was fatigued and after a fruitless search for a motel they decided to sleep in the car. "What are we gonna do?," Stacy whispered to the man she'd helped long ago as they sat in the dark.

"I didn't come unprepared," he answered, opening a bag he had in the back seat to reveal an assortment of firearms, many illegally gotten. Stacy looked at him in surprise--a certified lunatic running around with that much firepower. His scarred face held a lot of pain and determination. He had kept his hair short and he had developed some stubble on his chin from the last couple of days.

"Why did you show up at their house?," she wondered out loud.

"My cousin John, one of my few living relatives, was cruelly murdered by that bunch," he said angrily. "I plotted my revenge for months, following and watching them, only to have it backfire on me."

"You saved me," she pointed out.

"You saved me first," he answered back, letting the seat down so he could rest and settling in to sleep. Stacy did the same then scooted over to brush her lips across his. His one good eye regarded her with surprise, and he was at a loss when she snuggled into his chest and immediately went to sleep. Funny, since that's what she'd been doing for the past day or so. He put an arm around her and dropped off after a few minutes.

Jim awoke with the morning sun shining in on his face through the windshield. Stacy was munching on a soggy sandwich she'd gotten from the nearby supermarket. "Wanna bite?," she asked. "There's another one in the bag." He wasn't all that hungry but took the proffered sandwich and ate it.

"Just as I thought," the old clown declared after hearing the report from Bob, a weaselly looking guy who was a longtime friend of his. "Better let em know company's coming. Heh heh heh." Spaulding scratched his straggly beard and chortled.

The pair passed down familiar dirt roads, trepidation growing about what they would find at the end of their journey. From out of nowhere appeared a petite black woman, waving her arms frantically. She was dressed in a pink dress with matching pumps that were dirty from walking. Jim slowed the car and rolled down the window, and she ran up to them.

"Please, can you help me?," she asked. "My car broke down just down the bend. Could you come take a look at it?" Jim glanced at Stacy, who gave no indication.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go see," Jim conceded. "You can stay here with the car."

"Ohh, no I'd rather not be alone," interjected Stacy, stepping out of the car and following the former soldier. After a brisk walk they reached an old blue Oldsmobile at the side of the road, flashers on. The lady-in-distress seemed relieved as they neared the vehicle.

"Go and pop the hood," Jim told her, and she did so, smiling ingratiatingly at him. He asked her what the car was doing before it stalled and she answered him back, flashing her pearly white teeth. Stacy didn't feel comfortable.

"Sooo," began the redhead, "What's your name?"

"The name's Rita," she replied.

"Do you live around here?"

"Not too far, but farther'n I wanna walk," Rita said and laughed. "What are you all doing down this way?"

"Just visiting some folks," Stacy cryptically replied. She was liking this situation less and less. She was nearly ready to ask Jim if they could leave when he instructed Rita to try starting the car again. It started, the chocolate-skinned woman clapping her hands in joy.

"Thank you so much, friend," she batted thick eyelashes at him, making Stacy bite her lip. "I'm grateful for your help. I must be gettin home, though. Hey I'll drive you back up to your car."

Stacy didn't desire getting in a car with this lady, but she did anyway to save her a walk. After being dropped off they were once again alone on a dusty stretch of road. She looked pointedly at Jim, saying "Can we get started again?" Jim snorted. The car started and they were off once more, making their way closer to the Firefly home. They were hardly past the spot Rita had stopped at when they ran across a road block. The sign read 'Road Closed.'

"What the hell!," complained Stacy. "Where the hell did that black chick come from? There's no other roads going this way, is there?"

Jim didn't think so, then pointed out the detour sign. They reluctantly took the detour, and Stacy's heart was sinking. This wasn't good at all. Jeez, is paving the road against their religion around here? Half an hour later they still didn't seem to be getting anywhere, then--

Sirens. Sirens? Jim glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the lights coming from behind. "You better pull over," she told him flatly.

"I can't fuckin believe this!," raged Stacy, pacing in her jail cell. Jim was gritting his teeth but remaining silent for the time being. "You can't do this!"

"The hell we can," retorted the attending police officer at the county jail.

"But I never laid eyes on that guy before in my life! Neither of us! ARrrgh!," she sat down on the bench in a huff. Trespassing? Why, there wasn't even a house for a ten mile radius. Who reported them trespassing? And how the hell did a convenience store manager's dead body get in her trunk? "When's our hearing?," she inquired.

"Not till Monday of next week," the young cop responded. It was now only Friday morning.

"Jesus!," she spat. "We have to get out of here," she said to her companion.

"I know that. Now settle down. They won't find any of our fingerprints on the evidence and they don't have a motive. Just in the trunk. Damn, that doesn't look good on us, does it? Maybe we can post bail." We can only hope.

Tommy spent time with his long-lost family in the meanwhile.

Most of the day he was with Lily and Travis, doing chores or hanging around outside. He'd never been in a rural setting before and was delighted with the animals, trees and farmland that made up the Firefly residence. RJ and Rita were gone, Rita having an apartment close to her job at the medical supply store, but were usually around much of the time. That evening Lily decided to have a little fun with the unfortunate cheerleader Tommy had brought along with him. She dragged the girl up from Otis's lair and into one of the holding rooms. Tommy watched while she cut designs into the young flesh, laughing her throaty, sensual laugh.

It suddenly struck the boy that this was probably how his mother was introduced to the clan, and the thought sobered him. He had a newfound respect for his mother, who was apparently resourceful enough to survive in this environment. However when he looked back up the blood excited him, as did Carla's pain. Otis's voice carried upstairs as he stomped through the house and upstairs. "Awright, who took the cheerleader? Lily! I had plans for her," he burst into the room. Lily regarded him innocently, her curly strawberry blonde hair spilling down her back, round face and upturned nose giving her a ghoulishly cherubic appearance.

It wasn't even quite dark yet and Otis had sprinted across the yard in search of his prize. Stepping forward his smacked Lily in the back of her head, stating "This was a good specimen goddammit. Is she dead?" The teenage girl replied no and stuck her tongue out at him. "It's no wonder you have no friends, impatient girl! Now hands off!"

"Oh Uncle Otis," she purred, taking his arm and leading him to a dusty sofa in the center of the room. "I wanna be just like you," she said, snuggling up on his shoulder.

"Then why ain't your hair white and yer skin bleached, oh-so-pretty britches?," he growled, but his demeanor softened. "Lith, you sunofabitch."

"I heard that!," came a retort from Baby in the next room. Lily giggled.

"Lith?," Tommy wondered out loud.

"I named this girl Lilith, after the beautiful night demoness. A bane to all mankind, that's Lilith. Dumb ol' Baby calls her Lily."

"I heard that too!," called an indignant Mama.

"Come in here an' do somethin about it!," he hollered back jokingly. "Dear Lilith needs ta learn to respect people's property. My boy brought me the cheerleader. Good taste, Tommy," he chuckled. "Now how's your mom?"

This made Tommy feel kind of bad. "I uh--well, I left her tied to her bed on an overdose of sleeping pills."

The wraith burst out into gales of laughter. "Man, I woulda loved to have seen that."

"You'd think they'd be all up on propriety back here in the sticks. They have us in the same cell and everything," pointed out Stacy, sharing the sleeping bench with Jim.

"Yeah, I would've like to have gotten some sleep," he grumbled, shifting under his denim jacket.

"Shit, I bet I'm the first woman you've slept with in two decades," she shot back, chuckling. God, sleeping in a jail cell--what luck. She hoped her son was alive and well, because she was gonna kill him if she found him.

Jim opened his eyes and gazed at her moon-pie face all sprinkled with freckles and wasn't sorry he came to find her again. He'd lost one family member to the Fireflys but gained another in her. He wished now to stop the madness from spreading any further.

Tommy had been put in a room with Travis, which he didn't mind so much as Travis was an easygoing boy. The posters of hair bands and muscular men sort of made him a bit uncomfortable, but to each their own Tommy felt. "It's good that you got to meet yer pa," the boy told him as they lay in their respective beds.

"Yeah. Where's your dad?," the pale teen asked.

A troubled silence followed, and the dark-haired boy answered, "He had an...accident. Tractor accident. I was about 8 when it happened."

"Ohh, I'm sorry dude. It must be hard on you and Lily."

The other boy snorted. "He wasn't Lily's pa, doofus. Your uncle was her daddy."

He jerked upright in surprise. "My uncle Tom? Holy crap, she's like my double cousin or something. How cool is that? But...what happened to him? Where is he?"

"That's a question best not asked round here. From what I understand though, Dr. Satan got him. So he's dead."

Tommy was saddened, but glad that a part of his long-dead relative lived on. He had mixed feelings about some things, but was overwhelmed with the feeling of belonging and acceptance he found. He breathed in deeply, relishing being alive.

Early next morning hair tickled his face, waking him up. "Heyo, Tommy," burbled Lily's voice. His eyes opened, revealing a nightshirt clad younger version of his mother standing over him looking down. "We're going into town today, and RJ and Rita will be coming over later. So get up, lazy lurk!" She swatted Travis who was also still in bed, and he threw the alarm clock at her and missed.

Otis, meanwhile, was underground with his coveted cheerleader. The girl was hooked up to various machines and had chemicals being pumped into her system. Dr. Satan's days are numbered. Already his minions follow my commands. I will remake mankind in my own image. He looked down at the naked, inert body laying on the slab before him. His work was never done, it seemed--but he took such pleasure in it.

A nightstick thumping as it was dragged across the bars was the duo's alarm clock. Stiff and sore, Stacy sat up and rubbed her lower back, yawning. Jim grunted in protest and looked blearily around. "Reckon it's time to feed you heathens," the sheriff spoke drily, sliding trays through the slot in the bars.

"You lean too close and I'll wring your neck," mumbled the woman under her breath as she took the proffered tray. Her companion snickered. Looking down she found a sad unidentified piece of meat, some dry mashed potatoes and a hard roll. Yum. Being famished she devoured it anyways, as did Jim. He'd had similiar fare at the mental hospital so it was nothing new to him.

Stacy walked around the perimeter of their prison about a thousand times, stiff, frustrated and anxious about her son. Jim tried to comfort her. "If he's anything like you, he'll be all right until we can get to him. Just have faith."

She turned to him, face troubled. "What if he's like his father? What if he's already committed unspeakable acts? What then?"

"We'll deal with that when we come to it. Stacy!," he got her attention. His one good eye regarded her gently, full of pity. Taking her hand he led her to the bench, seating them both and putting a strong arm around her. She settled into his secure warmth, tears running down her round cheeks.

"Tiny, we'll be back shortly. Don't get into anything while we're gone. There's goodies in the fridge and cereal for you to eat," instructed Baby, grabbing the keys and heading out the door followed by Travis, Tommy and Lily. The rail-thin giant grunted and went back to the den to turn on the tv. The others piled into the old blue pickup truck and started off in a cloud of dust.

Mama was dressed in a blue bustier, flowered print blouse and pink frilly miniskirt, wearing some gaudy pink sunglasses and brown workboots. Travis was in a tiny blue shirt and sunglasses in imitation of his mother, Lily in a baby t-shirt, acid-washed cutoffs and snakeskin cowboy boots. Tommy thought it incredibly outdated, but made do with his Led Zeppelin t-shirt and baggy jeans.

They hit the department store, Mama purchasing makeup and odds and ends for the house, the three kids playing football in the aisles and being threatened with ejection. Baby indulged them as she'd always done her children, chastising them rarely. When they exited the building a group of well-dressed teens were standing around the parking lot when one of them spotted the group. "Looks like the freakshow rolled into town," he mocked, his peers laughing. Lily gave the group the middle finger, eliciting more jeers. Mama glared daggers at the rowdy youths but said nothing, putting bags in the truckbed. Tommy did nothing but the rage was back, tugging at his nerves and muscles.

Their next stop was the grocery store but Baby merely started the engine and drove the truck around the corner. Not long after a snazzy sports car pulled out of the parking lot and went down the street, three of the youthful assholes inside it. "Bingo!," went Mama gleefully. She tailed them, hanging back to not arouse any concern. Just as she suspected, they were going to a secluded spot to drink illegally-gotten beer.

Creeping with headlights off, she eased the vehicle to a halt and said softly, "Ok, now some fucktards gonna get a lesson in manners." They got out of the pickup, Travis and Lily reaching under the tarp in the truckbed to grasp a baseball bat and crowbar, respectively. Baby grabbed a revolver and croquet mallet for herself, handing Tommy an enormous pipe wrench.

"Let's go play," declared Lily, licking her lips in anticipation.

The three boys stood around, talking and drinking the beer, trying to outcool one another.

Out of the brush the family burst, coming on the unsuspecting youths like a whirlwind. Travis, the lightest and quickest, cracked his bat against the back of the black-haired ringleader's head. He dropped like a sack of bricks, uttering not even a sound. Tommy broke the nose and a few teeth of the heavyset one, bringing forth a gurgling scream of pain and surprise. The red fog enveloped his brain, driving him on. Yes, that's it. It was such a release, a rush of adrenaline.

Mama Firefly swung her mallet, catching one that had turned to run in the back, knocking him down. Lily jumped in, driving the sharp end of the crowbar into his lower back. The teen groaned piteously, still attempting to crawl away. Planting a cowboy boot between his shoulder blades Lilith cracked the back of his skull, ceasing his struggles. Baby let loose with one of her childlike giggles, licking the blood from her mouth. Tommy found that he was breathing hard, gulping air into his lungs and releasing the negative energy back out into the atmosphere. It was so easy, he thought. And so theraputic. But the Fireflys were hardly through. The bodies were thrown in the back, covered with the tarp and the truck took off toward the grocery store.

RJ and his wife were having iced tea with Tiny when the others returned. "Look what WE got!," cried Lily, jumping out of the truck cab. Rita stepped off the porch and peeked under the tarp.

"Ooooh-weee, fresh cracker," she jeered at the tied-up beaten boys.

"Hey look, here comes the tractor guy," pointed out Travis, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. Sure enough, a big red tractor was threading it's way toward the house.

"Quick, get em downstairs," said Rufus Jr, throwing one easily over his shoulder like a bag of flour. Baby began arranging her shoulder-length curls and wiping off stray blood on her lean arms.

"C'mon Tommykins," Rita said, putting an arm around the young man three times her slender size. They helped get the townies stowed away.

Mama smiled endearingly as the tractor rider came to a stop in the yard. "I see yer home now," he stated, taking his ragged cap off his head. The skinny thirtyish man hopped off his farm-equipment ride and smiled a crooked-toothed grin. "Came by earlier and didn't see ya."

"Hi to you too, Eugene. Come on in, poopypants. Wipe yer feet," she intoned, tossing her blonde locks and climbing the porch steps. The scraggly bachelor followed her, doing as he was instructed. "We have some unexpected kin visiting," Baby told him as they went to the living room.

"One of them crazy Sawyers?," Eugene asked, not relishing the thought. Last time he came courting one of them kept picking at him. God, he was creepy.

"Naw, he's Otis's boy. Lily! Tommy!," Mama called. After a few moments they appeared.

"Eugene, my nephew Tommy Driftwood."

"Pleased to meet you," Tommy said.

"Hi Eugeeene," Lily singsonged.

"Lily, behave," warned her mother. "Well, you all go an' find somethin to do. Me and Eugene have some things to talk about."

The teens turned to go and Lily leaned toward Tommy, whispering "They'll do more'n talk. Let's go have fun with the fresh meat."

"Ok folks," said the sheriff, balancing trays. "Time for yer meals." He leaned against the bars, and that was right when Jim grasped his shirt sleeve and yanked, the sheriff's head going clang against the cell door. The officer's body slumped to the floor in an ungainly heap, Jim immediately snatching the keys off his belt.

"What the hell--?," squeaked Stacy, golden eyes wide. "You going all flashback on us?"

"I'm getting us outta here," he stated matter-of-factly, trying each of the keys on the ring. Stacy immediately jumped to the side, watching out for anyone else coming. After a few more tries the key fit and turned, opening the jail cell. They stepped over the inert sheriff, turning the corner and making their way down the hall. They had to make it past the deputy's desk and out the front door. Stacy glanced over and saw that Jim had taken the officer's gun as well and groaned. She already felt bad enough about assaulting a cop.

"Hold it right there!," Jim barked, his unassuming voice suddenly stern and commanding as the unsuspecting deputy dropped his coffee and gawked at the gun aimed at him.

"Gimme your gun." Slowly the cop reached for his weapon then handed it to Stacy, who held it uncertainly. "Now turn around," ordered Jim. With a look that said Why me? the deputy turned around. Jim took the set of handcuffs from his belt and handcuffed him to the old radiator. Then they walked out the county jail's front door into a bright Saturday afternoon. A weatherbeaten, well-built man of medium height with a glass eye that didn't quite match his deep grey eye, beside him a woman tall as him, with wavy red hair--both of them looking out at the town and wondering what their next move will be.

"They've impounded my car," observed Stacy, police revolver still in hand. Jim replied that they'd have to 'borrow' a cop car.

"Hol' up!," called a voice, and a little old black man wearng overalls came running up to them, puffing. Oh crap, Stacy thought, witnesses. "I was just comin to bail you out," the strange old geezer said. "Looks like you folks is pretty capable, heh heh."

"Who are YOU?," Stacy demanded, giving up on hiding the firearm.

"Ray Belcher. We ain't got time to waste, we gotta get you outta here," the man urged them. "Get in mah truck, quick!"

The pair looked at one another, shrugged and followed the local to his vehicle. After a false start or two and the grinding of gears they sped out, heading back to the countryside.

"Do you know who we are?," Jim asked the fellow.

"Naw, don't know your names," Ray answered. "Knew you were in town, though. Knew why you were here."

"Whey are we here?," Stacy asked him.

"Help me get my daughter away from those damned Fireflys."

"Did they capture her?," Stacy wanted to know.

"Hell, no. My girl married one of em."