Chapter 1

The Drifter

A lone figure could be seen walking up the road. The Stranger appeared to be about sixteen he had brown hair and brown eyes and stood about six feet tall. He wore a gray shirt underneath a red and gray coat, a pair of sneakers that looked like they were on their last leg. Slung over his shoulder was a brown backpack that had obviously seen a lot of use. The backpack had a monogram on it that read Macleod He stop to read the sign of the town he was about to enter. The sign said,

PICKFORD

Pop: 24,153

Adjusting his pack the stranger continued on his way. The only sound on the quiet back road was the sound of his footsteps. Night was falling as he arrived in the Pickford town square. He paused in the town square just long enough to read the sign that advertised a motel on the next street. As the stranger rounded the corner he came face to face with a leather-clad street punk who was armed with a switch blade knife. Before any words could be spoken the punk drove the knife into the man's chest. Instead of going limp the young man just stood there looking at the punk. Suddenly the stranger's eyes began to glow an eerie red. He grabbed the punk and hurled him down the alley. The would-be assailant flew some 40 feet, bounced off the wall of a building and landed in a garbage dumpster. The stranger then took a hold of the knife handle that was jutting out of his chest and pulled the knife out. The open wound closed up and disappeared in a less than a second. The glow slowly faded from the stranger's eyes, he zipped up his coat, then turned and walked on down the street as though nothing had happened..

The stranger soon arrived at the hotel that he had been looking for. It was a dingy rat-trap of a place but with a gentle sigh of resignation he started toward the office. Suddenly he was touched on the shoulder. He turned to see a girl about his own age. She had styled blonde hair, blue eyes and a wide smile.

"You don't want to stay here this place is a known hangout for the dope dealers in the area." She said, "Oh by the way my name is Keely what's yours," Keely paused to breathe for she had said all of that in one breath. The stranger's countenance softened into a gentle smile.

"My name is Jason," he said in a voice that had a smooth bass timber to it. Keely reach into her purse and took out the fifty dollar bill she had bee given for Christmas.

"Here," she said pressing it into the man's hand, "This should get you a room at the YMCA for the night and a decent meal." Before he could say yea or nay she was gone. Jason stood there looking at the fifty dollar bill in his hand for a few seconds. Finally he smiled and pulled a picture from his pocket. The picture showed Jason sitting on a finely craft oak porch next to a white haired, bearded man.

"People like her make our life's work worthwhile don't they, Grandpa." He said softly then putting the picture away he opened his wallet. Inside it was a gold clasp that was filled almost to capacity with hundred dollar bills. Jason looked up at the rat trap hotel and smiled again,

"Well," he said to Himself, "after what that young lady Keely did for me in giving up her shopping money and all I guest I owe it to her to get a more decent room tonight." With that he turned and walked on down the street toward a Holiday Inn.

Later that night Keely Teslow and Phil Diffy stepped out of her front porch to sit I the porch swing.

"Hey Keel," look at this, "Phil pointed to a folded piece of paper that was fastened to the screen door with a paper clip. Keely unfolded the paper and her fifty as well as two crisp one hundred dollar bills feel out into her hand. There was a note on the paper that said simply:

Keely,

Thank you for your kindness,

Jason

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