Chapter 13d10

Chapter 13 (Draft 10)

Need to compare chapter 13 draft 6 in the whole file to this draft 8 version. I accidently found some errors while recording and placed them into the whole file rather than the draft 7 version.

Ethan was still sleeping when Sally quietly slid the lock. She looked back toward his bedroom as she opened the front door just wide enough to creep out and then amusingly caught herself skipping down the steps to the sidewalk below. She was astounded at how easy she was leaving her ninety plus years behind and enjoying the things her revived body hadn't allowed for decades. It was the simple things that surprised her the most; things the pain of a life already lived should have reminded her were far out of bounds, but not anymore. She felt wonderful, but more than that, she felt free.

It wasn't just her walking about without the normally sore back, or the disturbing spells of unbalance that had plagued her over the last decade. No, it was skipping happily down the stairs without the worry that somebody she knew recognizing her. She didn't have to be concerned with somebody pointing to say, "Aren't you Sally Carmichael? Aren't you supposed to be a little more careful with yourself, given your age?" This new found freedom from her old identity was surprisingly enthralling.

Like anybody else living in Seattle for more than a week, Sally inspected the morning sky. It was cloudy, but not enough to force her back inside for an umbrella.

She spotted a middle-aged man whistling unconsciously as he passed by.

"Excuse me, sir."

The man turned to deliver a happy smile. "Yes, my good lady, is there something I can do for you?"

Sally was taken aback by his immediate attention to her needs and the way his eyes began roaming so liberally over the features of her face.

"Yes, would you know of a market nearby? I'm a visitor unfamiliar with the area."

The man grinned over interestedly. "Sure," he directed her left, "just go up the street to the next block and turn right. There's a family market there." He smiled at her again. "Was there anything in particular you were looking to find?"

Sally frowned. She couldn't help feeling suspicious of the man's agreeable nature. "Ah… just a few things for my husband," she replied guardedly, glancing up to the door of Ethan's townhouse.

The man smiled again. "Well, they can sell you the basics, but if you need something more there's a supermarket about four blocks further up the street."

"Thank you."

He nodded, "You're very welcome and have a pleasant day," and then continued on his way with a another whistled tune.

Sally fumbled through her purse to insure she had enough money. "My husband?" she mumbled critically to herself. She hadn't used that line with a stranger since she was in her twenties.

An hour later, Sally was carrying a small bag of goods and looking for a bench in which to rest. She finally found a bus stop two blocks from Ethan's house and sat on the end before realizing she didn't need the rest at all. The whole process of finding a place to sit was just another lingering habit acquired over time and due her age. Not wanting somebody to wonder why she would stand within seconds of sitting, she decided to stay and enjoy the morning and it wasn't long before another man moved in to sit next to her.

"Hello," he said casually.

Sally looked over. He was a young man, maybe in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a herringbone jacket. He was smiling at her in a way that made Sally think to mention her husband again. Instead, she gestured enough to acknowledge his right to sit before looking away.

"I think it might actually warm up today," the man added, making Sally feel put upon. She didn't like the way the man sat himself in the center of the bench to take up all the room between her and the end opposite. To make matters worse, he casually spread his arms wide across its length, as if to set a sinister trap for some unsuspecting victim.

"Perhaps," Sally said, annoyed.

The man leaned over toward her. "Aren't you Sally Carmichael?"

Sally turned to the man and frowned. "Excuse me? Do I know you, sir?"

"No ma'am. My name is Jonathan and I'm a reporter for the Seattle Times."

Sally immediately turned to look straight again. "How very interesting for you."

"Are you a subscriber, ma'am?"

She looked at him again. "I'm afraid I don't think much of your paper, Mr…?"

"It's Jonathan."

She stared unblinkingly at him.

"Jonathan… Cunningham."

Sally leaned back. "I have always looked to the city's editorials to understand the heart of a daily, sir. The Times and the Post are rubbish… left-wing trash, in my opinion."

The man grinned. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I like to think my paper is fairly well-balanced."

Sally huffed and looked straight again. "You know, Mr. Cunningham, you're being very rude."

"Am I? How's that?"

She looked at him scornfully. "How's that?" Her stare darkened. "I certainly hope you're not writing your own copy, sir." She pointed to where the man's bottom was making contact with the bench. "You're taking up the entire space so nobody else can sit. The civil standards of my day would call somebody acting without regard to others as being rude."

Cunningham smiled again and then slid closer to her, as if to make room on his other side.

"In addition, a young man would never think to sit next to a woman he didn't know and proceed to prattle on about nothing," Sally said despondently, inching away from him as best she could.

"When you're a reporter, getting close to people is kind of a necessity."

Sally glared at him again. "Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

"I just had a few questions I'd like to ask you. How old are you, Mrs. Carmichael?"

Sally was taken aback. "Excuse me? I don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Cunningham."

"My sources from Mercy Center tell me you're in your nineties. Is that true? Is it also true that you're getting younger?"

Panicking, Sally immediately stood. "I won't tolerate rudeness, sir. Good day to you."

The reporter jumped to his feet to follow her. "The man that took you in, is his name Ethan Dodge?"

Sally spun on her heals. "It is improper English to refer to a person as 'that', Mr. Cunningham," she told him scathingly. "The man who took me in is a gentleman, unlike you."

The reporter was now walking by her side as they turned to continue up the walk. "Are you really ninety years old? Are you and Mr. Dodge living together and isn't he half your age? What would people in your day say about that?"

Sally turned the last corner to Ethan's townhouse. "Mr. Cunningham — must I scold you in public to leave me?"

"Sally, please. My sources at the hospital told me you might represent the next evolutionary change for mankind. Is that what they told you as well?"

"I don't believe I gave you permission to call me familiar, sir." Sally began to walk faster.

"Did you just wake up and find yourself getting younger, or did the doctors do something to make you this way? The doctor who did this needs to get their act together if he's going to..."

Sally turned abruptly. "MR. CUNNINGHAM!" She immediately tried to compose herself, clutching her purse tight. "'The doctor' is one person. 'Their' refers to more than one person. 'Needs' is a singular verb and cannot refer to 'their'. To say 'their act' is just wrong, sir, as is your impertinent harassment. I will not be chased about the walk like a beast of venery!"

She turned to cross the street before seeing the mob of reporters banging on Ethan's front door.

"What in heaven's name?"

Cunningham stopped next to her again. "As you can see, I'm not the only one looking to get your story, Mrs. Carmichael." He turned to stand in front of her.

"Listen, my car is parked right over there. Why don't you come with me to a quiet spot where we can be alone and talk? Once the others see I've got an exclusive, they should leave you alone."

Sally scowled back at him. "You're no better than the rest!" She bravely continued to walk toward the mob.

"There she is!"

The group turned and immediately raced over to her. There were bright lights and cameras, and several microphones were being shoved into Sally's face.

"Mrs. Carmichael — Sally — how do you feel about getting younger?"

"How old are you, Mrs. Carmichael?"

"Are you part of a medical experiment? Who was the doctor that did this to you?"

"Is the younger man living at this address your boyfriend?

"Are you still getting younger?"

"Have the doctors told you how young you'll be when these experiments stop?"

"Do you have any advice to the elderly in our community?"

"Were you abducted by aliens?"

"Are you being sponsored by a pharmaceutical company?"

"Mrs. Carmichael! My paper would be willing to pay you handsomely for an exclusive interview…"

Sally could see Ethan at this doorway, wavering precariously on his crutches and desperately motioning her to him. She tried to move through the crowd, but one of the cameramen reached out to shove her back. Somebody else hit her in the head with a microphone.

"Good Lord!" Sally yelped, dropping her bag and purse.

"All right, you bunch of vultures. Step back!" A man was pushing his way through the crowd; it was Detective Coleman. Waving his badge above the reporters, he began to pushing some of the cameramen to the side.

"Come on, Sally. I've got you."

Sally looked up to find Kari helping her to straighten again.

"Kari! Please… make them go away; what do they want?"

"I said step back!"

"We have a right to ask questions, this is a public street."

"And I call pushing her around assault. Now step back, before I haul your asses in. For God's sake, let the woman breathe."

Kari was helping Sally up the steps toward Ethan who was reaching frantically for her. They finally forced the door closed as the banging outside continued.

"Sally, are you all right?" Ethan was looking both concerned and very angry. "How dare they hound you like that in the middle of the walk! What the hell do they want?"

"Apparently, the word is out now about her condition; they smell a story like a shark smells blood." Robert was waving the reporters away through the curtain and locking the door.

"Can't you send them off?"

Robert looked at Ethan and shrugged. "It is a public street." The detective's phone started to ring.

"Excuse me. Coleman here. Yeah… what's up, Doug? I'm kind of busy right… what?" he stopped. "Yeah, I'm over at the Dodge place right now. Okay, yeah, okay – thanks; I'll check it out." He slapped the phone closed and looked up at Ethan."

"You got a TV?"

Ethan nodded and then walked over to an antique cabinet. He opened the doors to reveal a small television inside.

"Go to channel eleven."

Ethan stabbed at the buttons on the front and a woman's face began to fade up on the screen. She was talking over a crowd of reporters to deliver the morning's news."

"We're standing outside the home of a Mr. Ethan Dodge where, apparently, we just saw Mrs. Sally Carmichael entering the residence. I think the sudden appearance of the woman surprised many of us here who were looking to confirm an earlier report coming out of Mercy Center Hospital that said Mrs. Carmichael has contracted a very rare condition that before now has never been seen.

The woman looked down at her notepad. "Now get this… according to an unnamed source at the hospital, Mrs. Carmichael is de-aging. That's right, you heard me correctly; the woman is said to be getting younger with each passing day.

"Eyewitnesses, including myself who just saw the woman entering the house behind me, looks to be a person in her mid-forties. However, we have confirmed that Mrs. Carmichael is actually ninety-three years of age. Due to privacy laws, the hospital will not make an official comment about their patient who they say checked herself out of Mercy Center yesterday against the advice of their doctors. A second unnamed source at the hospital has also confirmed the story, saying," the reporter looked down at her pad again, "and I quote, 'with each passing day Sally Carmichael is definitely getting younger and the doctors here at Mercy are at a complete loss to explain how or why this is happening to her.'" The woman looked up at the camera again.

"If the woman we just saw going into the house is indeed Sally Carmichael, then we can confirm the reports coming out of Mercy are absolutely true. The only official statement being released from the hospital said the Carmichael case has been sent to the Center for Disease Control just as a precaution, but the CDC has refused to acknowledge receiving any such report. This is Lisa Hummel reporting — back to you at the anchor desk."

Sally looked at Ethan. "They think I have some kind of disease? But the doctors at the hospital never said anything of the sort. Why would they report me to a government agency?"

"Like the reporter said, Mrs. Carmichael, they probably did it just as a precaution. I'll make a call into the CDC to see what they intend to do about the report. I'm sure they get strange calls like this from hospitals every day."

Sally smiled at Robert and then walked over to him. She stared appraisingly up at him for a moment and then raised her hand.

"You were a blessing coming to my rescue on the sidewalk outside, Detective Coleman. You have my thanks… and my gratitude."

He shook her hand, somewhat surprised by the woman's formality. "Just doing my job, Mrs. Carmichael."

She smiled. "Humility is also a blessing, sir, and it would please me again if you referred to me by my given name, Mr. Coleman. You may call me Sally, if it pleases you to do so."

From of the corner of his eye the detective could see Kari cupping her hands over her mouth in surprise. He could tell from her reaction that what Sally was offering him was immensely more important than it sounded. The man smiled.

"You honor me, ma'am. And it would please me if you simply called me Robert."

Still holding the detective's hand, Sally smiled once more and then stiffened. "Robert: A proud English name — it means bright fame, does it not?"

"I… ah… didn't know that."

"It would please me to use it, and I would appreciate you making that call to the CDC for me."

She turned again. "Ethan — despite the poorest of manners resident outside your door, my intentions were to make you a better soup, but I see I've lost both my bag and purse on the street below."

"I got them, Sal." Kari returned to the entranceway to retrieve the goods sitting by the door.

"Ah… thank you, child. Would you care to help me in the kitchen?"

Two men dressed in black were sitting in a car down the street from Ethan's house. The man behind the wheel was peering through a pair of binoculars at the crowd of reporters still mingling outside. His cell phone rang and the man handled the binoculars to the other sitting next to him.

"Да, что это такое?" ("Yes, what is it?")

The man straightened to listen intently.

"Да, сэр." ("Yes, sir.")

("We are in front of the house now. There are a lot of reporters outside.")

The driver began to speak slowly, most deliberately into the phone, as the voice on the other end began to yell.

("We have secured the doctor's boy as ordered.)

("Yes, sir. It will be done immediately.")

The Russian closed his phone and then looked at the other.

("We have another job to do back at the hospital.")

Kari was watching Sally stir the pot of soup.

"So… how do you like staying here with Ethan?"

"Oh, his place here is much more comfortable than my drafty old apartment," Sally replied unthinkingly, as she tasted the spoon and then added some salt to the pot.

Kari casually leaned back to see Robert and Ethan talking quietly in the living room. She smiled and turned back to Sally.

"And ah… how are you and Ethan getting along?"

Sally tasted the soup again and frowned. "More salt again?" She threw a pinch into the pot.

"Fine — Ethan's injuries keep him from moving properly, of course, so I help him where and when I can."

Kari smiled again as she leaned against the counter and folded her arms. "Yeah — I can see that, and… ah… I'm sure he'll need your help for a while longer too. So… ah… where you sleeping?"

Sally was adding more ingredients to the soup and then wafting the smell to her nose.

"I'm in the guest room. The bed in there is wonderful — very firm. Good for the back."

"I smell something wonderful coming from the kitchen…" Ethan's voice rang out from the next room and Kari watched Sally smile in response as she continued stirring.

"So you and Ethan seem to be getting along… um… pretty well."

"Of course we are," Sally replied unconsciously again. "Can you hand me the pepper from the table, dear?"

Kari came around to Sally's other side to hand her the shaker. "So? Has anything… ah… happened between the two of you yet?"

"Happened? What do you mean, child?"

Sally had the spoon to her lips again when she noticed Kari staring at her, her friend's eyebrows raised. Sally immediately felt something unexpected seize her by the throat. She began to cough and gag on the soup, quickly grabbing a towel to cover her mouth as she continued to thump and wheeze. Her eyes still watering, she looked up at her friend again.

"Kari Deitz!" Sally whispered, glancing back at the door and toward the men in the other room. "How dare you insinuate such a thing? Ethan has been a perfect gentleman in my presence — always!"

Kari frowned. "Really? Well… that's rather disappointing. I thought something might have sparked up between the two of you by now."

Sally looked both shocked and terrified and then her jaw set. She quickly removed the pot from the flame and turned off the stove.

"Ethan…?" she called loudly, already unscrambling the knot on her apron from behind her back. "Kari and I are going out back for some air."

"Okay — but if you see any reporters snooping around, you might want to come back inside."

Sally grabbed Kari by the arm and yanked her forward. "You're with me, young lady."

Kari smiled again as her friend hauled her to the back door, surprised only by the strong, vise-like grip Sally was able to muster in her anger. They stepped outside to the adjoining porch and Sally quickly closed the door behind them. She peaked through the window to insure Ethan and Robert were not following before turning to Kari again.

"How dare you say such a thing about Ethan Dodge, and what nerve you have to do so in my presence!"

"Sally — stop." Kari was still smiling. "You know I love you more than my own mother. I only want what makes you happy."

"Then how could you insinuate such a thing?"

"Because I see the way you and Ethan look at each other. It's obvious he cares about you, more than that… I think he's in love with you."

Sally was taken aback, unable to speak from the shock.

"And I think you love him too — but for the life of me I can't understand why you won't admit it?"

Sally was still trying to recover herself. "You CAN'T understand why?" she answered in a loud whisper, looking again through the door. "Ethan is half my age! For God's sake, I'm a woman…"

"Who's now younger than the man who loves her," Kari shot back. "Sally, at some point you're going to have to accept things for what they really are. You're no longer a ninety three year old woman." Kari reached out to grab Sally by the shoulder and then direct her back to the door to see her reflection in the centered window.

"Look at yourself, Sal! By any measure, you're now a woman of maybe forty — forty five tops! You're beautiful and young again. All the tests have proven your metabolism is no longer what it once was a few months ago. You're not an old woman anymore, and whether you're willing to accept this fact or not is beside the point."

Sally stared at her own image looking back from the window. It was like looking at somebody she hadn't seen in decades. She slowly raised her hands to her flushed cheeks and felt the smoothness of her own face where once there was old leather. Her anger was shining through bright, blue eyes; color where just a few weeks before was an ugly and foggy gray. Kari stood behind her and combed her fingers back through Sally's gray hair.

"You're absolutely beautiful, Sal. No man could help but notice that now."

Sally thought about Ethan and the way he was looking at her after they fell to the floor together. She thought about the man on the street and his roaming eyes taking their liberties. Kari was right, of course; Sally's body had changed a lot in a very short period of time. Still, as she continued looking at her reflection in the glass, there was something remaining of the old woman that still existed within. Despite Kari's good intentions and meaningful observations, Sally knew there was still a part of her that remained unchanged. She could see her mother's face looking back and the values of a lifetime pulling at her soul.

"There's so much more to a person than what we see on the outside, Kari."

Kari frowned and then turned her friend to face her. "I know that, Sally, but you're still a woman, right? You have needs just like the rest of us."

"What needs are these, child? What in the world are you thinking of me?"

"Oh come on… we all want to be loved and to share our love with somebody who cares about us, isn't that true? Ethan is a very good man and he loves you, I know he does. Why can't you let yourself see that? Why can't you love him back?"

Sally's turned away "But I've already lived my life. It might not have been a perfect life, but it wouldn't be right to want more." She turned to stare into the tiny yard through the porch screen. "Who am I to get a second chance? It's unnatural. It's not right."

"Not right? Sally — you didn't ask for this to happen. In fact, you've been brought kicking and screaming all the way. But this is where you are now and you're gonna have to make the best of it." Kari folded her arms, her expression set.

"Do you care about Ethan?"

Sally turned to her but couldn't answer.

"Well? Do you?"

Sally covered her face. She felt like sobbing.

"Answer me, Sally. I'm not letting you off the hook on this one. It's a simple question: do you care about the man or not?"

Sally was lost in the memories of a life already passed through the halls of time. The images she was so desperately trying to retrieve were desiccate and bleak; the dried up and faded scenes of an existence long departed like dust in the winds of her Nebraska home. The hanging pictures within the halls of her mind where not of her mother or her beloved Mary, but fragmented images she barely remembered as people. Time must have excised a terrible toll to turn those she loved into these soulless depictions, and it took with them the possibility Sally would ever love again. The deepest roots of caring and affection, where the beginnings of love grow in all who ever sought to keep them, had somehow found a way to die without her knowledge or concern.

But there was a lie in these thoughts that only now she understood had lead comprehension to finally visit her. Her soul was a withering flower stuck in the driest desert, where the roots of caring rarely watered were never allowed to grow or bloom. After more than ninety years, Sally had learned one more lesson about the person she had become: if love had ever existed in her heart, it was allowed to die within the nothingness surrounding it. Time had annulled her life of anything worth remembering and now it was worth less than the grains of sand already passed to measure their existence.

And now, suddenly, there was a spark of something once remembered. Somewhere deep within her aged soul, deeper than where caring seeks to spawn love, there was something within her that Kari was desperately searching to find again, but it was Sally who finally found it even if her friend could not. It was hope. And from hope comes desire and caring, and from out of the warmth of this realm love is born anew.

"I think he really loves you, Sally."

Sally wiped her eyes and looked up at her friend. She sniffed and heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes… I know. He already told me."

"No… I'm not talking about what he said at the hospital… I mean…"

"No… it was after…"

Kari was surprised. "He… what? Ethan told you that he loved you again?"

Sally nodded.

"When?"

"Yesterday."

Kari smiled; the glimmer of forming tears was suddenly there. "And what did you say?"

"I told him… he was sick in the head."

"You what?"

Sally smiled and shrugged.

"Is that how you really feel?"

Sally shook her head. "I told him… I couldn't… it wouldn't be right." Kari looked perplexed. "I think he was just… forced into saying it because I kissed him…"

"Whoa — Whoa — Whoa! You kissed him?"

Sally suddenly looked humiliated. "Yes. It was just…" but she couldn't seem to find a way to explain what had happened.

"All right, Sal! Way to go, girl!"

Sally looked up. "I'm… so ashamed."

"Ashamed! Why?"

"I just kind of lost myself in the moment and… it just… happened."

"So you do care about him then."

Sally looked up and finally smiled. "Yes. Yes, I do… care for him… so very much. He's such a gentle and temperate man and, for the life of me, I don't understand what he sees in me."

"Oh stop it," Kari said admonishingly. "Not only are you the smartest person I know, but now you've got the hot body to go with all those brains."

Sally tutted. "Kari, please…"

"I mean it." She reached out to push Sally's gray hair back again. "You know… I brought something with me that might make you see things differently."

Sally sniffed. "What are you talking about?"

Kari pulled a tissue out of her pocket. "Wipe your face and come with me."

Andrew Johnson jumped into the elevator just in time. "Perfect timing," he said, looking around at the others inside, "thought I'd be waiting forever at lunchtime." His fellow passengers smiled.

"Tough Sixers' loss last night huh, AJ?" sounded another man from the back of the car.

AJ looked back at the man frowning behind him and sneered. "They were up by twelve after three; had it wrapped up until Harrington got into foul trouble again."

"Yeah, well… they still have a chance to take the series tonight," the man answered back, hopefully.

The elevator stopped and everybody began to step off. AJ's friend got out and looked back. "Aren't you going to the cafeteria?"

"Not yet. I have to deliver these scrips to the pharmacy. Can you get me a sandwich? I'll pay you back."

The other man smiled coyly. "You sure you can afford it after last night's loss?"

AJ frowned. "Hey — shut up about that." he looked around and smiled nervously at those still leaving the elevator. He leaned in. "You don't want one of Nurse Ratched's spies to overhear you. She's on another rampage about the nurses' pool again. She'll fire your ass quick if she catches you with a copy."

The other man grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I know. So what are you eating? Ham?"

AJ nodded as he stepped back and hit the elevator button again.

"Take the basement route to avoid the traffic," his friend suggested as the doors started to close. "It'll be faster."

The elevator continued down as AJ began to mumble under his breath. "Blew a twelve point lead — what a bunch of freakin' pansies. Can't rebound to save their asses."

The doors opened and a large man in a black suit entered.

"Elevator's headin' down to the basement," AJ informed the very large man. "You might wanna wait for the next one."

The man turned to face the doors without answering as the elevator closed to continue down.

When the doors opened again AJ moved forward. "Excuse me, I'm getting off here." The large man slowly moved to the side without looking back and AJ stepped into a corridor filled with pipes and electrical boxes. He turned to look back at the man still standing unconcerned in the car.

"I tried to tell you the elevator was going to the basement."

The man smiled and then puckered a kiss back at him. AJ frowned and turned to continue down the passageway as he listened for the elevator door to close.

"Weirdo."

He looked down at the scrip he was carrying. "Nice — fifty milligrams of Marinol for Mrs. Adkins. Oh she'll be feeling fine tonight," he laughed to himself. He turned a second corner and then heard a whispering voice behind him.

("Here comes blackie now.")

He turned and was surprised to see the man in the black following him; his hand was pressed into his ear as if talking to somebody on a radio.

AJ stopped to face the approaching man. "Hey, the public ain't allowed down here, man. It's unsafe. You'll need to go back to the elevator and return to the main floor."

The large man ignored the warning as he stooped to avoid bumping his head on one of the steam pipes. He was still whispering into his radio.

"Did you hear me? You're not allowed down here, man." The Russian continued coming forward unconcerned; his massive body filling the passageway as he came toward him.

AJ turned to continue up the corridor and he could hear the man's leather shoes clacking on the cement floor behind him. A red phone mounted on the wall came into view and AJ reached out to grab the receiver. He looked back again.

"I'm going to have to call security to escort you out, my man. I tried to warn you."

A hand behind him suddenly slammed the cradle switch down and AJ turned to find another barrel-chested man dressed in black standing there. The man's eyes were cold, almost dead as they bore into him. AJ barely noticed the man taking the receiver from his hand and placing back into its cradle. There was a heavy poke on the shoulder from behind and AJ spun around to find the man from the elevator standing there. The two men were now crowding him.

The man from the elevator spoke slowly and with a thick accent. "Wat do fock you say to me?"

AJ looked left and then right at the two men and tired to smile. "Hey, man, I… didn't say a thing. I'm not lookin' for any trouble here. I was just saying this place…" he hesitated, "isn't… you know… safe." He tried to smile up at the two of them again.

"Wait a minute. Did Sammy Beans send you here to see me? Listen, I've been paying my debts on time. He's got no hassles with me now; that's old news. I mean the game last night was a blow… but I got it covered. There's no reason to get all…"

"Shut da fock up wit u Simmy Bees boo-sit," The Russian scolded him, grabbing his shirt. "You tell me ubout da woman?"

AJ looked at the man and frowned. "The… the what?"

The other Russian snatched AJ up by the front of his shirt.

"Hey — hey, what the heck, man. What's going on here?"

"Salwee Car-mi-cul," the man said slowly, "you know, yes?"

"Salwee, what the f…?" AJ whispered, trying to think fast. "Oh… Sally Carmichael! Yeah, yeah, I know her… sure. I was one of the nurses caring for her while she was here." He could feel his shirt being twisted harder as the large man began to lift AJ off his feet.

"Oh — oh, hold on a minute, man. This ain't necessary. Whataya want to know?"

"U big-mout to newspapurs, yah?"

AJ tried to smile. "Me?" He could feel the skin twisting with his shirt. "Ow — ow — ow! Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah. I told a couple of guys from the local papers about her, sure. Hey man, we can all use a few bucks on the side, you know what I'm sayin'? You can't fault a guy for that, right? You guys relatives or something?" The Russian sat AJ on his feet again and smiled. He reached up to smooth his mangled shirt and then patted him softly on the cheek.

"U got big-focking mout un you."

"Hey, man… listen, we all got bills, you know what I'm sayin'?" he laughed nervously. "But if it's a hassle for y'all, you know I can dig it. I only got a 'C' note for the information anyway. I'll gladly hand it over if it'll make it right."

The man with the deadpan eyes stepped away from him and there was a click on the other side. AJ turned to find the other man pointing a very long gun at his head.

"What the…? I didn't mean no har…"

POP!

The bullet entered AJ's head above the bridge of his nose and exploded out the back in a flash of blood, hair and gray matter. The man's body wavered for a second on its feet before turning slightly to collapse straight down to the floor. The other Russian stepped over the body to remove the man's badge and then straightened.

POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!

What was left of Andrew Johnson's face was turned to the side, his one remaining eye hanging from its socket across one of the gas pipes against the wall.

The shooter stepped in to sneer down at the body.

"Это то, что вы получаете за открытие вашего большой рот в газетах, мудак!" ("That's what you get for opening your big mouth to the newspapers, asshole!")

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