STR2D3PO: I like watching them around Halloween too. I've never seen the third one, but I know a lot of people don't like it. From what I've seen over the past couple years, though, a lot of fans are starting to reappraise it and develop a new appreciation for it.

Guest: She killed Rita, Lola, Lucy, then Rudd.


Leni sat back from the sewing machine and took a deep breath, the corners of her mouth turning up in a elfin simper. "That's, like, all for now, folks," she said in imitation of Porky Pig. Lincoln studied the half-finished blanket: It was a mixture of blue and pink threads that could serve either gender equally...though Lincoln couldn't say he was crazy about putting a boy in pink. It looked nice, though - she decided shortly after getting started that she didn't want it to just be for a girl, I want it to totes be both again. That was fun.

Yawning, Lincoln nodded his agreement. "Yeah, believe it or not, I'm bushed."

They'd been sitting there for nearly a half an hour, which meant he'd been awake for less than two hours, but he was tired again and looking forward to bed.

A vague shadow of anxiety rippled across Leni's face and she turned to him. "Lincy, do you -?"

"Yes," he said, cutting her off. He already knew what she was going to ask, and he was already planning on it. They rarely slept in the same bed, but tonight they would...so that he could protect her from harm, if it came, and as a declaration of their newfound independence. As soon as this was over, he decided...tomorrow, surely, he and Leni would hold hands and go to their mother with the news of their relationship. His stomach rolled at the possibility of her taking it hard, but he loved Leni and that was that. He couldn't pretend any longer that she was just his sister and he'd rather have Mom angry or upset with them over the truth than live a lie.

Scrunching her shoulders happily, Len smiled. "Your room or mine?" she asked.

"Yours," he said pointedly. On the rare occasions that they did sleep together, it was always in his room, since there was less chance of Mom barging in. She didn't make it a habit to walk into her adult children's rooms unannounced but old habits die hard. It didn't matter if she walked in now: For one, he could always pass it off as Leni being afraid of Ronnie Anne, and for two...he didn't particularly want her to find out in such a dramatic fashion, but...it'd at least save him having to bring it up and explain it.

Leni leaned over and pecked his lips. "Okay." She got to her feet, and her stomach rumbled. She frowned. "The baby's hungry," she said seriously.

"We don't know if there's a baby in there," Lincoln said but grinned widely anyway. "And if it there is, it's way too little to be hungry."

Rolling her eyes, Leni said, "I know that, Lincy. I was trying to blame it on him-or-her so I don't, like, look like a pig."

Lincoln laughed. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm hungry too." He stood and towered over her, his hands fluttering to her shapely hips -perfect for childbearing, he thought. They felt right in his grip, just as she felt right in his arms and her lips felt right on his. Lincoln didn't think of himself as a hopeless romantic (though maybe he kind of was), but it was almost like she was made specifically for him and he for her. Their everything matched perfectly together. They both might fit with other people, but never as deeply, totally, and seamlessly as with each other.

The greatest tragedy of their love, Lincoln thought, was that they were born siblings. Why, he couldn't say, but, the way he saw it, nature makes mistakes sometimes. A woman is born in a man's body and a man in a woman's. Can not two soulmates, be accidentally birthed of the same parents?

That was question he had been asking himself for ten years and he still didn't have a satisfying answer. She was undoubtedly tailored for him and vice versa, and that was all there was to it in the end.

Weaving her fingers through his and beaming in happiness, Leni squeezed his hand and lead him into the hall. "There's cherry pie," I think she said over her shoulder, then frowned. "Unless that cop ate it all. He looks like he likes pie."

Lincoln snorted. "That was mean."

"Why?" Leni asked, her frown deepening.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He inferred that she was talking about his weight, but her evident puzzlement told him that she wasn't. "Nevermind," he said. As they walked, his phone weighed his pants down like a rock and he had to hold them up. At the head of the stairs, he let go of Leni's hand, "I'm gonna put my phone away."

"Okay," she said, "meet you in the kitchen."

Lincy went into his room and Leni's eyes lingered on his cute little butt. When they had sex and he was on top, she liked grabbing it and holding on; it was firm and warm and squishy in her hands and looked really good in jeans. He was, like, the perfect guy - cute, smart, funny, and really gentle. Those were all reasons she fell in love with him in the first place. She thought back to the time she skinned her knee and he made her better. That was the moment she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him - he made her feel safe and warm and loved, and she couldn't wait to make him a daddy so their baby could feel the same way.

A dreamy smile played across her lips and she took a deep breath because there was so much warm fuzzies in her chest that it was, like, pressing against her lungs and making it hard to breathe. She was really looking forward to their five babies, each with a name whose beginning letter spelled out LINCY. She wanted more babies than just that, but she didn't want to mess up the name thing. Ooooh, if they had eight more it could be LINCY I LOVE YOU. That would be a lot of babies, though. She did a quick count and arrived at the number thirteen. That wasn't so bad, she figured. Her parents had eleven kids, what's two more?

Smiling real big now, she turned and started down the stairs just as Lucy started up, her head down and her steps slow and deliberate. A greeting formed on Leni's lips but died when Lucy lifted her head.

There was something wrong with her face.

Aside from all the blood.

It hung slack on her skull and dropped like saggy, flabby skin, and the flesh around the edges was ragged and torn, resembling a piece of fabric ripped from a dress. Her eyes and mouth were really strange too, like double, kind of like...she was wearing a mask.

Her step faltered and her eyes flashed. Leni's blood turned to ice water because in that moment, she knew that wasn't Lucy. She was wearing Lucy's clothes and had her hair back in a ponytail just like Lucy's, but her eyes were different. They say they are the window to the soul, and what Leni saw in that...thing...was not her sister.

Letting out a snake-like hiss, the Lucy-thing lifted a bloody knife. "Mine!"

Ronnie Anne.

Terror burst in Leni's chest like a bomb and she issued a high, throat-shredding scream. She fell back, and her calves connected with the edge of the tread; she went down hard on her butt, the air exploding from her lungs in rush.

Grinning evilly, Ronnie Anne climbed the stairs, lumbering and inexorable like the march of time. Leni's brain screamed at her to get up and run, but her muscles were locked and all she could do was watch, her body trembling in fear. Something grabbed her from behind, and she shrieked hysterically, her hands going up and clawing the air. Kicking her legs, she was dragged back and deposited on the floor, not realizing it was by Lincy until he screamed at her to run. She tried to get up, but couldn't; strangled sobs blasted from her throat and her heart slammed so fast and hard she couldn't hear anything over it. Bending frantically over her and hooking his arms under her shoulders, Lincy pulled her to her feet just as Ronnie Anne appeared on the third-to-last step, the knife preceding her like the fin of a shark. Leni screamed, and Lincy threw a horrified glance over his shoulder. "Go!" he yelled and shoved her toward Lola's door. She fumbled at the knob, her hand shaking and her tears streaming down her face. Ronnie Anne stood at the top of the stairs now, watching them with her head cocked. She took a jittery step forward, and Leni turned the handle. She and Lincoln spilled in and he slammed it behind them so hard it rattled in its frame. He thumbed the lock and threw himself against; Leni didn't realize they were in total darkness until he flipped the switch and light flooded the room.

What she saw made her scream so hard her vision grayed.

Lola lay on her bed with her arms outstretched and her legs crossed at the ankles in a gruesome parody of Christ on the cross. A long piece of wood jutted from her chest and her chin lolled against her left shoulder. Her eyes, glazed with death, stare sightlessly at the wall and blood dripped down her chin.

A giant, heart-shaped box of chocolates sat wedged between the top of her head and the headboard like a gravestone. It was pink with BE MINE in white across the front.

"Oh, my God," Lincoln moaned, his stomach twisting violently.

He didn't have time to process the grizzly sight before him; the knob rattled and his heart clapped with fear. Something pounded hard against the door, and he stumbled away, spinning toward it and casting hs eyes around the room in search of something, anything, to use as a weapon.

The knob rattled again, then a fist slammed against the door. "Let me in!" Ronnie Anne cried. "I'm your sister. You can love me now!"

Leni whimpered pitably, her arms wrapped protectively around her chest and her knees pressed together.

Pounding harder, Ronnie Anne shrieked in fury. "Let me in, goddamn it! Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!"

His mind raced, thoughts whipping past in a blur. His heart throbbed against his ribs and his stomach lurched with each bang. He had to think, think, think, think. He looked frantically around and landed on the dresser. He could move it in front of the door and then...he didn't know. Call the cops. Yeah, yeah, yeah, call the cops.

Coming alive, he hurried over, grabbed the dresser in a bear hug, and wrestled it in front of the door, which shuddered against Ronnie Anne's assault: She battered it with a desperate flurry of kicks and punches, howling in frustration. "I'M YOUR SISTER! LET ME IN!" She gave one final punch then silence crashed down around them, the only noise the sound of his own ragged breathing and Leni's soft whimpering.

Turning, Lincoln went to his sister and held her at arm's length; her eyes were squeezed closed and her head shook back and forth as if in denial of what was happening. "Do you have your phone?" he asked and spared a worried glance over his shoulder.

Nothing.

For some reason, that was more terrible than the wall shattering banging - at least then he knew where she was. Right now, she could be anywhere.

He turned back to Leni; her face was drawn and shivers tore through her body. Water stained her cheeks and her lips trembled. He pressed his palm to her clammy forehead, and his heart sank. She was going into shock if she wasn't already there. Shit. This was not good. He let go of her arm and hurriedly patted her down, his gaze returning to the door.

Nothing.

"Shit," he spat through his teeth,

It hit him. Lola's phone. He pushed away from Leni and went to the vanity. He didn't see it. Not giving up, he sifted through the things crowded on the surface, then flashed in anger and swept a line of perfume bottles onto the floor. "It's gotta be here -"

Something slammed against the door, and wood splintered. Leni cried out and he turned just as Ronnie Anne ripped the ax out and brought it down again, the blade hacking through in a shower of breaking slivers.

Lincoln's heart dropped into his stomach. She was coming in and there was no stopping her. He had to get Leni out of here and to safety.

The ax hit the door again, then ripped a chunk out; a shaft of light fell in from the hall and lay across the top of the dresser, blotting out when Ronnie Anne pressed her face to it. Lincoln's muscles froze when their eyes locked. Ten years ago, he gazed deeply into them and saw warm brown flecked with gold. Right now, he saw only soullessness. "MINE!"

She drew back, and the blade sank into the door, the sound of cracking bringing him out of his reprieve. He turned and his eyes went to the window. It was their only chance.

Bushing past Leni, he went to it and tried the sash, but it wouldn't budge. He remembered coming in and locking it earlier. He flipped the tab with a trembling hand and pushed it up, a cold breeze sweeping into the room like a sadistic spirit come to watch the ghastly proceedings. The blade tore into the wood, and Leni uttered a sharp scream. Pushing away from the sill, he grabbed her by her arms and spun her around. "We have to go out the window."

CRACK!

Leni's face went white and she jerkily shook her head.

"We have to." Keeping the panic from his voice was the hardest thing he had ever done. He looked over her shoulder just as the blade came down again.

CRACK!

Fractures crisscrossed the wood and a big, ragged hole opened in the center. Ronnie Anne stuck her arm through and tried to push the dresser over but only succeeded in making it wobble. He couldn't wait any longer; if he did, she'd get in and hurt Leni.

Holding her arm tight, he pulled her to the window, her heels dragging against the carpet. "Come on!" he cried, and this time fear did creep in, and like a slap, it seemed to snap Leni out of it. She allowed herself to be lead. "Feet first," Lincoln quavered.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Lincoln helped Leni over the sill bottom first, his hands clutching her forearms. She slid and yelped in fear.

CRASH!

He jerked a glance over his shoulder and started. The dresser lay in front of the door, blocking it. The hole was bigger now, jagged shards of wood jutting like teeth in the maw of a cave-dwelling beast. Ronnie Anne stuck her arms through, one hand gripping the ax, then her upper half. The mask - his sister's fucking face - plopped onto the overturned dresser with a wet, meaty sound and Ronnie Anne's blood slicked countencence stared back at him, eyes burning with sickly madness and the corners of her lips turned up in a cold, dead smile.

Turning back to Leni, he braced his feet against the wall and leaned forward, lowering her as best he could. She dangled well above the ground, her legs kicking in mid air. She squeezed her eyes closed and dug her nails frantically into his flesh like a falling cat seeking desperate purchase. Lincoln slipped and nearly went over the ledge; his heart bounced and Leni screamed.

CRACK!

He looked over his shoulder again. Ronnie Anne was perched on the dresser like a stone gargoyle on the parapet of a gothic citadel, her feet stuck in the plyboard back, reminding him incoherently of a woman sinking in quicksand. "You have to let go," he said.

Leni opened her eyes; they were pooled with heart-breaking terror, tears shimmering and overspilling her sallow cheeks. "I-I can't," she stuttered.

CRASH!

Ronnie Anne stood to her full height and kicked through the dresser like a muscle-head kicking a child's sand castle. She looked up, saw him, and snarled. "Mine."

"You have to!"

"I-I'm scared."

Ronnie Anne took a step forward and brought the ax up.

Hating himself even though it was all he could think to do, he twisted his arms roughly, and Leni's hold broke. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped...then she fell, the hem of her dress fluttering around her like wings.

With a hollow thud, she hit the ground in a heap. Lincoln threw himself to the left just as the blade arched down; it slammed into the sill, the edge sticking.

Acting on pure reflex, he jumped to his feet. Ronnie Anne pulled the ax out and turned; Lincoln's fist connected with her mouth, and her head whipped to one side...then back, her eyes flashing. He punched her again, and again she abrobed the blow like a masochistic sponge.

Screaming, she lifted the ax and spun it, the flat end coming down hard on his head; white light burst inside his skull, then darkness, his body falling limply to the floor. Standing over him and heaving, Ronnie Anne stared down at his face; blood trickled from an ugly gash across his temple and his closed eyelids fluttered rapidly. His jaw hung slack, glistening lips slightly parted as his lungs automatically drew shallow breaths. Ronnie Anne's heart swelled with love and she dropped to her knees, the ax clunking to the floor.

He was even more beautiful than she remembered, his features rugged and manly, stubble covering his strong chin and his muscular arms well-defined. Her core twinged and her heartbeat sped up as she leaned over him, her hands resting on the tops of her legs. She bit her lower lip and blushed coyly...then bent, took his face in her hands, and kissed him, her slimy tongue slithering into his mouth like a worm and lapping hungrilly. The taste of his breath and the clean scent of his skin made her tremble with anticipation. She sucked a sharp inhalation and raked the tip of her tongue across the inside of his cheeks, her hands running over his chest, tracing the outline of his pecs and stroking down his stomach, fingertips brushing closer to his -

A face emerged from the lust fogging her brain like a jack-in-the-box popping out with a taunting smile.

Leni.

She had to get Leni...then should could have Lincoln.

Grabbing the ax, she got to her feet and stared longingly down at her betrothed. "Soon," she said, then went after the homewrecking bitch who started this.


Leni lay on her side, broken moans rising from her lips and pain streaking up her right leg. She sucked a mouthful of cold night air and a stitch flared in her side, making her wince. She moved her head, and shaggy grassy tickled her cheek like the fleeting of spider legs.

A shiver went through her and a strangled sob bubbled up from her throat when she remembered Ronnie Anne. Her heartbeat quickened and she pushed herself to a sitting position even though everything hurt. An image of Lola lying dead on her bed flashed across her mind, and fresh tears welled in her eyes. Where was Lincy? She needed him.

Oh no! He was still up there! She glanced worriedly at the window; light spilled through and glowed against the darkness, but she couldn't see him. Terror clutched her chest and she staggered to her feet, the pain in her ankle hot, red, and excruciating. She clenched her teeth and took a limping step toward the street, her body bending at the waist. She hurt so bad but she needed to get help for Lincy.

She shuffled toward the street, hissing through her teeth at the pain. At the corner of the house, she leaned heavily against the siding and scanned the sidewalk. She spotted a cop car sitting at the opposite curb, and her heart skipped with hope. She shoved away and hurried as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face at the owies in her leg; it was so bad she, like, felt dizzy and sick. She reached the driveway and stumbled on the uneven asphalt, a moan ripping from her lips. The street stood empty and alone save for the wind, the car so close yet so far away.

Her resolve wavered and she nearly gave up, but Lincy needed her, so she pushed on, going faster, ambling across the desolate blacktop. "Help me!" she cried, her voice a breaking croak. "Please help!"

Two dark shapes sat in the car. Neither moved.

"Please!" she sobbed. She came to the side and leaned into the open driver side window. "Ronnie Anne -"

Her words cut off in a scream of horror. The policeman behind the wheel sat slumped over, a messy red gash across his throat. The one in the passenger seat slouched to one side, his severed head sitting in his lap like a favorite pet. Her hands went to her face and she fell back, her ankle throbbing unnoticed.

She whipped a frenzied glance up and down the street. Nothing moved but the wind and the light of the moon, the former slipping through the barren boughs of the trees and the latter filtering through the shaking branches and swaying across the pavement. To her left, a porch light shone like a beacon in the darkness, and she started toward it, her limp deeper, the pain worse. She wasn't aware that she was crying openly, her hitching sobs echoing in the desolate night, or that she shook with fear. She only knew one thing: She needed help, Lincy needed help - Ronnie Anne was going to get them if she didn't find it.

At a gait, Leni crossed the the front lawn and climbed the steps, her hand trailing the bannister. At the top, she pitched forward and landed on her hands and knees, her skin tearing on a nail head and splinters stabbing her palms. She felt neither.

Getting her feet under her, she lumbered to the door and collapsed against it with a moan. She balled her fist and pounded. "Help me!" she hitched. "Please help me!" She looked over her shoulder. 1216 Franklin stood stark and ominous, its windows blazing with hellish light. In that moment, it was not her home but a strange and threatening house of horrors.

She banged harder, desperately. "Help! God, help me!"

A face appeared in one of the little windows flanking the door, and Leni's heart leapt. "Please, help me, someone's trying to kill me!"

The face disappeared, and she expected the door to unlock and someone to usher her inside, but instead, the porch light went out, plunging her into darkness. "No, please!" She slammed her fist and cried harder. "Don't leave me."

Realizing the people here weren't going to help, she turned and limped to the top of the steps, freezing when Ronnie Anne came out of the house across the way, her shoulders squared and the ax lengthwise in her hands.

Panic filled Leni, and her instincts took over; holding the rail, she rushed down the stairs and ducked right, tottering headlong across the yard at an angle, the street to her left. Ronnie Anne spotted her and started after, hers the slow, leisurely stride of a woman who had all the time in the world...and every chance of catching her prey eventually. Leni went faster, her heart slamming. "Help me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice reverberating off the dark, shuddered facades of the houses lining the street. "GOD, HELP ME!" She hobbled onto the sidewalk and threw a glance back - Ronnie Anne kept pace, a wicked, self-satisfied grin on her sunken face.

Leni was in the middle of the street now, shuffling aimlessly south, no help and no hope in sight. "HELP!" she shrieked. "HELP ME!"

"There is no help," Ronnie Anne called. "You're gonna die."

Leni screamed.


In Lola's bedroom, Lincoln stirred and muttered, his hand fluttering weakly to his aching head. His throat was dry and his stomach turned; he felt like he was going to throw up. He grimaced when his fingertips touched tender flesh, then creaked one bleary eye open when they came away wet. He held them in front of his face and tried to make sense of the red, sticky liquid. What happened? The last thing he remembered was him and Leni -

It came back to him in a rush, and his eyes widened. Lola, Ronnie Anne, Leni.

LENI.

He sat up, and a wave of vertigo crashed over him; agony flared over his right eye and hot bile filled the back of his throat. He ignored it and got to his feet, his legs shaky and his knees like rubber. God, he had to hurry, Leni was in danger and if he didn't, something would happen to her.

Mindless in his dread, he kicked through the shattered remains of the dresser and tripped going through the door, his hands shooting out and catching the wall before he could go down. He tried to stand straight, but his legs wouldn't support him. Letting out a wordless cry of frustration, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and lumbered toward the top of the stairs. The pain in his skull pulsed sickly and his heart jackhammered in his chest.

At the top of the stairs, he held fast to the railing and descended, forcing himself to go slowly. At the bottom, he rounded the newel post and staggered into the kitchen. The pain was worse, his nausea threatening to overwhelm him; the world blurred and doubled. He tripped over something and crashed to the floor, a jagged piece of wood streaking across his left cheek and ripping the skin. He blinked, and his vision resolved. Detective Rudd lay on his back, tacky bloody drying on his chin and staining his white undershirt. His arms were thrown out on either side of him, his jacket open. Lincoln's eyes went to the handle of the revolver nestled in his left armpit, and his heart missed a beat.

"HELP ME!"

Leni's voice, faint like the distant lament of a passing funeral procession and edged with hysteria. Licking his lips, Lincoln reached out and yanked the gun from its holster \; it was cold, heavy, and oily in his hand. The grip was black like coal and the body silver like ice.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Lincoln got to his feet and lurched back into the living room. His knees were stronger now, and he pushed away from the wall, his steps unsteady but sound enough.

The front door stood open, and he went through it, the cold air slapping his flush, sweaty face. He scanned the night; Leni limped down the opposite sidewalk, Ronnie Anne walking behind her, fifteen feet back, too close.

A toxic mixture of terror and rage blossomed in his chest, and he was going down the steps before he knew he was moving, his grasp on the gun tightening and his finger stroking the trigger guard. Lola's face, contorted in agony and terror, came back to him...Lucy's flesh on Ronnie Anne...Leni's eyes filling with horror as she dropped.

Them making love, making a child, making a life, a family, a family threatened now by Ronnie Anne Santiago.

He was walking faster, the pain buried under a layer of burning hatred that intensified with every step. Ahead, Leni stumbled, pitched forward, and fell to her knees. Ronnie Anne advanced on her, lifting the ax. Weeping and sputtering, Leni curled up in the fetal position and hugged her knees to her chest. Alone. Afraid. Preparing to die. Resigned to her fate and to the fact that her Lincy couldn't help her.

Ronnie Anne stopped, looming over the fallen girl, and hefted the ax. Leni shook and whimpered. Lincoln stepped onto the sidewalk. Ten feet away. Five. Still moving. Heart not beating. Lungs not working. Cold. Hard. Numb. Eyes locked on Ronnie Anne like laser guided missiles. "Ronnie," he said.

She turned, and when she saw him, she smiled...a warm, genuine, dreamy, lovestruck smile.

He lifted the gun and shot her, the report echoing like thunder. The round took her in the shoulder and pushed her back, the ax falling from her hands and clattering to the pavement. She gasped, in shock or pain he didn't know, and wounded disbelief filled her eyes.

He fired again and again; the second round slammed into her chest and the third blew out her throat in a mist of blood. She toppled back and landed on the ground hard, her head smacking the pavement with an audible crack.

Lincoln walked up and stood over her the way she had Leni. The color was rapidly draining from her face and blood trickled from the corners of her mouth; her chest expanded and contracted as she fought to breathe. From the gurgle in the back of her throat, blood was pooling in her lungs.

She turned her head to him, and he was taken aback by the sadness he saw written upon her face. As though she were the victim and not him...as though she hadn't killed Lola...as though she hadn't just been trying to kill Leni. In the street. Like an animal shown no mercy - his beautiful, sweet, tender, kind-hearted, wonderful Leni...the light of his life...the smile on his face...the reason he got up in the morning...the mother of his future children.

He glanced at her; she lay on the ground still, hugging herself and weeping. His heart shattered into a million pieces and dropped like ice into his stomach.

Ronnie Anne coughed, her lips wet with blood, and he turned back to her. "L-Lincoln…"

He aimed the gun at her forehead.

"I love y -"

BLAM!

A hole appeared in the center of Ronnie Anne's forehead, and blood splattered the pavement. Her body jerked spasmodically, then twitched.

When she was limp, Lincoln blinked dumbly like a man waking from a trance. Sirens wailed mournfully in the distance, and Leni's soft weeping found his ears. He dropped the gun and turned, falling to one knee, his hands shaking and his heart kicking back to life. She lay on her side, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth like a girl who fell from her bike and hurt herself.

Lincoln dragged her in his arms and held her tight to his chest, his trembling fingers brushing through her sweaty hair. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed bitterly, her tears soaking into the front of his shirt. "It's okay," he said, unaware that he was crying now too, "it's all over...you're safe…"

She clutched desperately at him, as a drowning woman to her savior. He hugged her and smothered the top of her head with kisses.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said through his tears, his voice cracking and lost under the swelling sirens. "I promise."


This isn't the end; there's a very short epilogue. I'll post it tomorrow or later tonight, I don't know.