Author's Note: Dear Readers, thank you again for your feedback and for continuing to read this story! I love hearing from you all! Thank you, katbybee, for your help writing this chapter and for coming up with Clayton Orwell! We are definitely close to getting the boys home now. To those of you who have said you aren't ready for the story to end, don't worry — I think their road to recovery will require several more chapters at least! Piscean6724, thank you for beta reading! You are awesome!

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Tuesday, 19 December 1972

Clayton Orwell sighed heavily as he walked through the doors of the hospital. The receptionist gasped at the sight of him and started cleaning up her workspace. He raised a weary hand as he walked past. "Don't worry about it right now, Annie. We'll talk later. And don't let Merritt know I'm here."

He'd never even reached his destination of Goodland, Kansas. He had barely checked into his hotel in Rock Springs, Wyoming the previous evening when a call came through from Harry Laska. "You'd better get back here if you can, boss. Monster Merritt has made a real mess of things." And so, after listening to everything Harry had to tell him, he'd checked out of the hotel and started the drive back home, arriving just five minutes ago. He hadn't even taken time to go by his house to shower or get breakfast.

Monster Merritt. It was the nickname the nurses had given his second in command when she was still acting chief, and she had earned it. She was a prickly sort, more interested in the hospital's coffers than patient care. She didn't have the heart for patients that her father-in-law had, nor did she have much of a heart for those who worked under her. The elder Merritt had started the hospital forty years ago and from what his grandson had told Clayton, he was a fine man. Apparently, it had skipped a generation, because Edina's husband was more like his wife than his father — grasping and power-hungry. Their son, though, was a man like his grandfather. When the new board offered him the role of chief, he had declined. He said his mother would make it impossible for him to lead effectively. Instead, he'd recommended Clayton for the position. When his mother had raised hell about it, Toby (he preferred his middle name) had packed up his things and moved overseas with his new wife, effectively cutting Edina Merritt out of his life. He and Sophie were now happily settled in Landstuhl, Germany, where he had been hired for an administrative position at the US Army Hospital.

Clayton had accepted the new job eagerly. He and Toby had graduated at the top of their class, and he felt he was equal to the task. He loved the idea of resuscitating a dying hospital, not only rescuing it from bankruptcy, but also restoring its commitment to the founder's vision. When Millard Merritt II had started this hospital, he wanted it to be a place where anyone who needed high quality health care could receive it, with or without the means to pay. Clayton was determined to bring that mission back. The board had asked him to take it slow, and for now they had asked him to keep Edina on as his assistant chief of operations. Considering what Harry had told him, though, he was pretty sure that wouldn't work any longer. So far, he was still getting to know the doctors and nurses who worked under him. He'd quickly recognized a few as absolutely unwilling to accept change and discreetly suggested that they would be happier elsewhere. Most had taken the hint and resigned; others, he'd had to dismiss. Dr. Lloyd was one he'd pegged, but he hadn't yet gotten around to firing her. He'd let himself get distracted by his great-niece's birth. He wished now that he had sent Lloyd packing the first time she gave him a snide look and a snotty response. He'd known she was toxic, but he never imagined she would attempt to kill a patient.

Today, Clayton had his work cut out for him. First, he was going to talk with a few people about what had been going on since he'd left yesterday morning. He'd already had an earful from Harry. He wanted to talk with the friends of the kidnap victims that Merritt had pegged as drug addicts. Marcy Holcomb would be another good source of information. She was one of those rare people with a solid commitment to the truth, and he found her a breath of fresh air. The daughter of family friends, she knew him well enough to feel comfortable speaking her mind with him. He could count on her for an honest appraisal. Once he felt he had a solid understanding of everything that was going on, then he would confront Edina Merritt.

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An hour later

To say that Clayton Orwell was not a happy man was a vast understatement. In fact, he was seething. In the short time he'd been gone, all his hard work had been threatened by his second in command.

He had known from the beginning that Edina was against his charity program, but he hadn't expected her to set its destruction in motion. The program had been sanctioned by the new board of directors and he was proud of it. Other areas were also in danger if Edina had her way, and he was not about to let it continue. He was concerned about the victims from the disaster at the Farm. A lot of the men had been brought here as patients, and he was not finished ferreting out all the Lloyds. That was an odious job, but one he was determined to complete as soon as possible. Which brought up a new difficulty. How could he distinguish between Lloyds who were simply Lloyds, and Lloyds who were affiliated with that Hera creature? He wasn't worried about Mack Lloyd or Harvey Lloyd, but what about Michelle, Kara, and Amalia Lloyd?

He rapped on Edina's office door and then walked right in without waiting for an invitation. When her eyes widened in shock at his entrance, Clayton knew the staff had cooperated in keeping his presence a secret from her.

"Mr. Orwell!" she screeched, hastily slipping a file folder into her desk. She probably thought he hadn't noticed. "What are you doing here? I have everything under control. You didn't need to come back early."

"Mrs. Merritt." He worked at keeping his voice calm, even though a storm was raging inside him. "I want a full and clear report on everything that has gone on in the time I have been gone. Be aware, I have multiple sources, and I am aware of much of what has happened. I want your point of view. I value your opinion." With that, he stepped across the room to his office door.

He could feel her eyes on him as he went, and her unspoken response hung in the air. If you valued my opinion so much, you never would have started catering to indigents and drug addicts. She'd said it often enough that he knew it was the first thought in her mind. He turned and focused on her before opening his door. "A full and clear report," he reminded her, and then he went into his office and closed the door. He still needed to call Carol and let her know he would be delayed. Heck… he might not make it at all, and that hit hard.

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As soon as Orwell was out of sight, Edina pulled out the file folder she had hidden. Inside was the bill she had intended to mark 'paid' and give to Marco Lopez as soon as his check cleared. Of course, now she intended to present him with a new bill covering the cost of John Doe 2's surgery. Leave it to Laska to decide that the patient urgently needed an operation.

She tapped her fingers on the bill, trying to decide on a course of action. The patients from that Farm represented a potential windfall for the hospital. The new rehab facility in Boise would pay them a percentage for each patient referred there. That meant the patients would be out of her hair and still bring in money for the hospital. She was justified in demanding proof that Lopez and his friends had the right to make decisions for these two patients, wasn't she? She detached the check from the bill, placed the bill back into the folder, and shoved the check into her pocket. It would be Lopez' word against hers.

About forty-five minutes later, she knocked on Orwell's door.

"Come in."

"I have that report for you, Sir." She set the papers on the desk that should still be hers and took a seat across from him. "We have a number of new patients with no proof of insurance and no identification. Drug addicts, mostly. They are all excellent candidates for the new rehab facility in Boise."

His tone was icy as he replied, "I am aware of the patients in this hospital. As I told you, I have multiple sources." He read over her report and frowned. "Well, I did ask for your point of view, but I notice there are several glaring omissions. Care to fill in the blank spots?" Orwell looked at her blandly.

"Omissions?" She tried to control the waver in her voice, but she knew she'd been caught. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "I don't know what you mean, Sir."

Orwell sighed. "I gave you your chance. I don't like being lied to, Mrs. Merritt."

She pursed her lips and glared at him. She really hated this usurper. "You're calling me a liar?" Then she snatched the report back. "I was running this hospital just fine before the board brought you in. All you've done is spend, spend, spend."

"Mrs. Merritt." His dry, even tone grated on her nerves. "I was hired by the new board of directors. You were kept on as a courtesy because of your family's history with the hospital. I am aware you don't hold with the restoration of your father-in-law's vision. I believe you would be happier elsewhere. Therefore, you may consider this your notice of termination, effective immediately."

Her stomach was turning flips now, her hands trembling with rage. "With all due respect, you can't fire me. That is the board's decision, not yours." She leaned forward, her tone sharpening. "After all the years I've given to this hospital, I'm shocked you would try such an outrageous move."

"Actually, Mrs. Merritt." She hadn't thought he had it in him to get this angry. Up until now, she had considered him something of a milksop, but apparently he had a spine after all. It didn't improve her opinion of him. "If you read the new contract you signed, you will find the board gave me that power in the case of egregious behavior. Lying, concealing a murder attempt, double charging for care, misappropriating funds. All matters you conveniently left out of your report. And these aren't the only instances where you've kept information from me. I have quite a file. So, as I said, consider yourself terminated." He stood and gestured for her to do the same. "I truly believe you will be happier elsewhere. You will receive a generous severance package."

"Firing a widow right before Christmas. That's the legacy you want? Fine." She pulled the crumpled check out of her pocket and hurled it at him, then stood and stomped toward the door.

Halfway there, she stiffened at the quiet words that followed her. "Stealing hospital funds is the legacy you want?"

Edina tried to bottle up the scream, but it came out anyway. At that point, everything unfolded as if she were watching from outside herself, completely unable to control her reactions. She watched herself spin around and run at Orwell in a rage. He caught her hands in his and pushed her back, but not before she'd managed to slice several long, deep gashes in his cheek with her sharp fingernails.

And then she watched as Security ran in, took her into custody, and escorted her out, still screaming. Telling the world that Clayton Orwell had destroyed everything, that he was running her hospital into the ground, and that she would make sure he regretted it.

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Clayton had been pushed back against the wall during the attack. Now he slid to the floor in shock over what had happened. He knew he was bleeding but couldn't seem to process anything or figure out what to do next. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Then suddenly Marcy was kneeling next to him and laying a hand on his arm, speaking softly. His ears were ringing, and he couldn't make out what she said. Even if he had heard her, his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, so he couldn't respond. He closed his eyes and started taking deep, calming breaths. The words In through the nose, out through the mouth, Son ran through his mind in his mother's voice.

Marcy put her hand on his back. "Clay?"

Her use of his given name got through. Usually, she didn't call him that at work. He looked up to see her offering a cup of water. He accepted it and took a drink, which helped clear the cotton sensation from his mouth. "My face hurts. Edina flipped out."

"She's gone. I was coming down the hall when Security dragged her out. That's why I came in. I did knock, but I don't think you heard me." Marcy reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of gauze. "Lucky I have this." She tore off the paper wrapper, then handed him the roll. "Press this against your cheek. Put firm pressure on it. Listen, I think you need stitches. Is there a doctor you'd prefer?"

"Yeah, Harry Laska." He pressed the gauze against his cheek and held it tight. He could feel his fingers getting sticky with blood.

"All right." She went to his phone and called for Dr. Laska to be paged to the office immediately.

Clayton realized he was shivering. "Hey, I'm really cold here."

"You're in shock. A volunteer will be here any time now with a warmed blanket."

He couldn't help but think that her soothing voice was just as effective as a blanket. "I always thought Edina was a little dotty maybe, but never dangerous. Um… thanks for taking care of me."

"I'm just doing what you hired me to do, right?" She smiled. "I'm glad I was close by when you needed me."

Clayton was grateful when the volunteer arrived a few seconds later, with Harry on her heels. The doctor gave the volunteer some instructions while Marcy got the blanket over Clayton.

"How did this happen?" Harry asked as he examined the lacerations.

"Monster Merritt." Clayton usually refrained from using that moniker, but it seemed more fitting now than ever. "Mad 'cause I fired her."

"All right, well, I'll get you all taken care of. Normally I'd want to do this in an exam room, but there's no reason we can't manage it here." Harry and Marcy got him over to the leather couch along the other wall. Then Harry instructed the nurse to clean the wounds with antiseptic. Meanwhile, he pulled on some gloves and readied the suture kit.

When Harry finished his work, Clayton had sixty-five tiny stitches closing the four gashes in his cheek. The doctor sat back and looked over his handiwork. "All right, Mr. Orwell, all done. I'm going to have Nurse Holcomb give you a shot of antibiotics. We'll follow that up with an oral prescription. Is your tetanus shot up to date?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Doc." As the shock subsided, Clayton was starting to feel a little better, though he was still shaky. He pushed the blanket aside. "If you two will just let me get up, I've got calls to make." He needed to inform Personnel of the situation and find another assistant, and he needed to talk with someone on the board. One of them could take charge here for a couple of weeks so that he could resume his vacation. He needed it more than ever now.

Harry backed away, as did Marcy. "Just take it easy the rest of the day," the doctor told him. "Your calls can wait."

Just as Clayton was about to argue his case, a knock interrupted him. He looked up to see a police officer standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Mr. Orwell? I'm Sergeant Liz Ellison from the Featherville Sheriff's Department. Security sent me up. I'm here to take your statement regarding Edina Merritt."

Clayton sighed. The attack was bad enough when it happened. Having to report Edina to the police just made it worse. "I had to let her go, and she got angry and was leaving. I thought it was over, but she suddenly screamed at something I said and came running at me in a rage. I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but she apparently jumped on me and scratched my face badly. The next thing I remember clearly, I was on the floor, leaning against the wall, shivering. And I was bleeding from the cuts on my face."

"I heard Mrs. Merritt shouting as the Security guards took her out," Marcy added. "She said Mr. Orwell was ruining her hospital and that she would make him regret it."

Liz Ellison jotted down notes. "Well, we'll make sure she can't carry out that threat, Mr. Orwell. She's already in lockup."

Clayton nodded tiredly. He just wanted this day to be done with. "Thank you, Officer. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"I think I've got enough. You just take it easy. We'll handle it from here." She nodded and took her leave.

Clayton felt Harry Laska's critical eye raking him over. "Marcy, go get a room ready for Mr. Orwell," the doctor ordered. "I've decided to admit him overnight."

"Yes sir." Marcy nodded and trotted out of the office. Clayton thought she was a little too eager to follow the doctor's orders.

Clayton glared at Harry. "Oh, I don't think so! I need to arrange a flight to Colorado Springs as soon as possible." The drive from the Springs to Goodland was shorter than from Wichita, and Clayton was pretty sure his sister would come get him so he wouldn't have to rent a car. He wasn't up to driving it now. "I don't have time to be lying around over a few stitches." He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in to hide how they were still trembling.

"Listen, boss," Laska reasoned. "You're pale, still a bit shocky, and not thinking straight. You're exhausted and in pain. My guess is you haven't eaten today, and you're probably dehydrated. I'm keeping you here and making sure you get the rest, fluids, and nourishment you need. You can arrange a flight for tomorrow evening. If you behave yourself."

Harry Laska was a force to be reckoned with when he wanted to be, and Clayton knew it. It was what made him such a great doctor… and Clayton knew he was beaten on this one. He finally dropped his arms to his sides and shrugged. "Fine, Doctor. Lead on. But I'm only letting you have one night. And I still need to make my phone calls. Oh… and I need to see Marco Lopez. I have a check to return to him."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Call your sister tonight. I'll give Lopez the check. The rest can wait. Now, come on. I'll grab you a wheelcair." Clayton was about to protest, but Harry cut him off with a curt, "Hospital policy for patients."

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It was about noon when the medevac flight landed in the Featherville Regional Hospital parking lot. Josh Zimmermann and Dr. Brackett jumped down to the ground, followed by Dixie McCall, who had agreed to come help get Johnny and Mike home. Kel chuckled as he thought back to his invitation. He hadn't exactly had to twist her arm — in fact, she'd told him she would never have forgiven him if he'd left her behind.

"I'll stay out here," Josh called, and he waved to the pair. "Do my maintenance check and have her all set for the flight back."

"Thanks, Josh. C'mon Dix." Brackett sucked in a deep breath and slung an arm around the nurse's shoulders. "Let's go deal with whatever is keeping them from releasing our boys."

Inside, they found Marco waiting for them in the lobby. He jumped up from the chair in the small waiting area as soon as they entered. "Hi, Marco. We're here and ready to go as soon as the guys are." Brackett clapped the lineman on the back, noting the tension in his muscles.

Marco smiled. "It's good to see some friendly faces in this place!"

The fireman was tense and worried, but Kel couldn't help but notice an unfamiliar spark in his eyes. Something was up with Marco, but Kel wouldn't ask questions. He was here for Johnny and Mike. The other paramedics from LA County had people coming for them, too. Kel didn't know them well — they mostly worked out of Century Pavilion.

Dixie reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, which she passed to Marco. "IDs and insurance cards. I'm glad Johnny thought to leave some documentation with the DeSotos for emergency situations."

"Excellent." The tension seemed to drain out of Marco. "I have to take these to Admitting and then we should be able to spring both of them. Insurance won't be an issue with either one of them."

"I don't know how you managed that," Brackett said. "But it's a good thing — we got the cards, but we're not sure either one has out-of-state coverage."

Marco didn't pursue the subject. "Wait right here. I'll be right back, then we can go see the guys." Kel watched him head for Billing. He and Dixie took a seat in the waiting area.

When Marco returned, his shoulders were slumped and his jaw clenched. Brackett's eyes narrowed in concern. "I don't like the expression on your face, Lopez."

"No sign of my payment, and they don't have out-of-state coverage, so until we find out what happened, they aren't going anywhere."

Brackett snorted. "That's outrageous! How much did you pay, Marco?"

Marco shrugged and huffed out a sigh. "Plenty. That check has gotta be somewhere."

"Hey, we'll get to the bottom of it," Dixie assured him.

Brackett nodded. "That's right. As long as they're stable for travel, we're taking them home today. Now, if you could take us to ICU, I want to see Johnny first and talk with his doctor."

"He has a pretty good doctor now. His name is Laska." Marco held out a hand, directing them to an elevator. On the way upstairs, he filled them in on what they had seen at the Farm.

As it happened, the doctor was just stepping away from the nurse's station. "Mr. Lopez. I hoped I would see you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over. "Mr. Orwell asked me to give you this. He took it from Mrs. Merritt."

Marco smiled. "I'm glad to get this back! Now I can pay the bill so we can get our boys out of here."

Dr. Laska shook his head. "Oh no, you won't. Pay, I mean. After everything that has happened, Mr. Orwell says that the cost for your friends' care has been waived. They don't owe a thing."

Marco raised an eyebrow and then handed the check back to Laska. "Then consider it a donation to a worthy cause. I didn't mark it specifically for their care."

The doctor accepted the check. "Thank you, Mr. Lopez. I assure you, this donation will be put to good use. I know that Mrs. Merritt overcharged you, and you may be glad to know she is no longer employed here." His attention went from Marco to his companions.

Marco smiled sadly and shook his head. "Not really glad, no. I mean, consequences are necessary for what she did, but I am sorry she's so miserable." He took in a deep breath, then gestured toward Brackett and Dixie. "Dr. Laska, this is Dr. Brackett from Rampart General Hospital in L.A. And this is Nurse McCall. They came to bring Johnny and Mike home."

Dr. Brackett held out a hand. "Hello, Doctor. Good to meet you. Dixie and I work with John Gage and his friend Roy DeSoto. And I'm John's doctor as well. Mike Stoker's too."

Dr. Laska shook Brackett's hand, then made a slight bow in Dixie's direction. "I'm pleased to meet you both. I take it you want to see Johnny and assess his condition before I release him into your care?"

"That would be great." Dr. Brackett sighed in relief. He was glad things were turning out easier than he expected.

Dr. Laska held out a hand. "Johnny is this way. Roy DeSoto and Susanna Levin are with him. Susanna has proven to be an essential part of his care. Anytime she tries to leave, his blood pressure bottoms out."

Brackett had a couple of questions at that point. One, he wondered where in the world Lopez had gotten the money to pay for the two men's care, and two, who exactly, was Susanna Levin, and how had she come to be involved with John and Roy? The first question could wait; the second question he asked Dr. Laska.

"As far as I understand, she was with him when he was brought in. I haven't had the opportunity to learn her story," Dr. Laska answered. "Perhaps Mr. Lopez knows more?"

"I know some, but not much. We'd better talk about it later, though, Doctor Brackett. I do think she should come with us when we take them home." Marco sounded serious.

"It does sound like she's good for our Johnny," Dixie observed.

Inside the room, Kel saw that Johnny was awake, but his eyelids were at half-mast. His cheeks were hollow. He had always been slender, but right now he seemed downright emaciated. When Dixie entered and said, "Hey, Tiger," Johnny's heart started beating erratically and he became agitated. One hand kept hold of a young woman's — she had to be Miss Levin — but the other began thrashing against the bedrails. Miss Levin bent over Johnny, stroking his hair and murmuring to him.

Roy jumped to his feet and went to Dixie. "He's just not thinkin' straight, Dix. Seems like the only woman who can get close to him right now is Susanna." Kel did a double-take. Had Roy just spouted out all those words without a single stutter? Kel didn't say anything about it for now, but that was something to celebrate.

Dixie's eyes filled with tears as she backed toward the door. Kel wanted to pull her into a hug, but Roy was already doing just that, still talking smoothly and clearly. "That cult that kidnapped him — they filled his mind with all sorts of garbage. He's gonna need a lot of help gettin' past it."

"I just never… never thought Johnny would be afraid of me." Dixie leaned against Roy.

"Let me buy you a cup of coffee this time, Dix." He led her out of the room.

"I'm sorry." Dr. Laska wore a tight smile. "I could have prevented that by asking Nurse McCall to stay outside, but I wanted you to see for yourself. Gage reacts badly to women. I've listened to his mumbling, and he focuses on being rejected and evil and irredeemable. Once the drugs have worked their way out of his system, he'll need some serious therapy to help him get back to a normal life." He rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure why Miss Levin is an exception for him."

Brackett rubbed the back of his neck, deep in thought. "I suppose an in-patient therapy program would be best for him at that point."

Laska nodded. "For him and Stoker, I'm sure. I know of a place in Los Angeles, the Bennett Center for Recovery. You should contact Dwight Hennessy. I'll give you his number. They specialize in helping people who have escaped cults. It's not deprogramming — that can be a very dangerous method. Dr. Hennessy is one of the best in the field."

Brackett nodded. "All right, then. We'll focus on getting them both well enough to benefit from that program. In the meantime, what do we need to do here to get them on their way?"

Clearing his throat, Laska paged through Johnny's chart. "I'll write up the discharge papers and you're free to take Mr. Gage whenever you're ready. I'll have a copy of his chart for you and all the lab work that's been done, as well as a list of the medications he's on. His vitals are stable as long as Susanna is with him. He should be sedated for travel, especially with your Nurse McCall on the flight. I don't think Dr. Sabin will give you any trouble with releasing Mr. Stoker — not with Mr. Orwell back at the helm. If he does, let me know. From what I hear, Stoker has so far been unresponsive, but physically he's stable."

Kel rubbed at the back of his neck. "Thanks, Dr. Laska. I appreciate everything you've done for him. And now, I guess while you get Johnny ready to go, Marco should take me to see Stoker." He wanted to see for himself what shape Mike was in.

Kel was used to "Stoic" Stoker, the quietest man in the LACoFD, but nothing could have prepared him for what he found when he stepped into Mike's room. Like John, Mike was far too thin, and he was starting to pull in on himself. In addition to IV fluids, he sported a nasogastric feeding tube. His eyes were open, his gaze seemingly fixed on the light over his bed.

Hank Stanley and Chet Kelly were both in the room. Chet was reading a magazine, but Hank got to his feet when Brackett and Marco entered. "Dr. Brackett. You are a sight for sore eyes."

"Hi, Hank, how are you holding up?" Brackett's eyes were glued to Stoker.

"I'm better than I was," Hank said, "now that we've got the guys back. But I am worried about them. All Mike does is stare up at that light. He hardly blinks. His doc put him on a feeding tube because he won't eat. And Johnny, well, he looks like he'd blow away in a light wind."

Brackett nodded. "Yeah, Mike looks like he's totally withdrawn. Has his doctor done a brain scan?"

Hank shook his head. "They've hardly done anything for him since we got here! At least Johnny got a new doctor who really seems to care about helping him, but this Sabin fellow… I'm at the end of my rope with him.

Kel stepped closer and waved a hand in front of Mike's face. Nothing. "I'm concerned he may be slipping into a deep coma. I'll want an EEG and a CT scan to rule out any physical cause. It could be the drugs he was given, but he's certainly presenting differently from Johnny."

"Coma? But his eyes are open." Hank's eyes widened in alarm.

"He's not in a coma yet, but he's headed that way. His eyes being open doesn't matter. Folks can be in a coma and their eyes can be open."

Chet popped off suddenly with, "Porch lights on, nobody home, huh?"

Hank growled at his junior lineman. "Once we get back to the station, Pal, you're on latrines for the next month. Maybe the next two months."

At that, Chet dropped his magazine and groaned. "Aw, Cap, I was just kiddin', needed to lighten things up a little."

"Don't talk like he can't hear you, Chet." Marco said sharply.

Kel had the distinct feeling Marco was hiding something, but this wasn't the time. "Wise advice." He nodded approvingly at Lopez. "He probably can hear you."

Chet shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry. Geez."

To Kel's great surprise, a hoarse voice came suddenly from Mike's lips. "Chet… bein'... Chet." Mike didn't look at anyone or move in any purposeful way, and he didn't say anything else, but Kel let out a huge sigh of relief. Whatever else was going on inside that brain of his, Mike Stoker was definitely still there.

And Chet looked inordinately pleased with himself.