AN: Hello all, and here is chapter 6. Thanks again to the reviewers for being generally awesome. Anyways, never mind my babbling on, please enjoy the chapter.

***Waylon***

I came to on my bed. For a second I thought everything had been a horrible, horrible dream. Then I realized that my vision swirled from blood loss and my stomach still felt like it was on fire. I let a small groan escape my lips.

"Waylon, are you awake?"

It was Lisa.

"ya…."

I felt the bed compress next to me and saw her face fill my vision.

"Looks like I died and went to heaven" I tried to give a weak laugh, but coughed instead.

A tear or two welled up in her eyes, but she didn't let them go anywhere.

"I'm so glad you're home."

Ugh, home, we couldn't stay here "we can't stay here".

"What?"

I really didn't have the strength to talk right now, she was a smart lady, she could figure out why.

"But…" she took a second "damn, you're right"

She stood up, obviously forcing the action. I should be up and telling her things would be ok, she was always there for me, even now when she was overwhelmed she didn't falter. And it was my fault things were like this in the first place. If I had been more vocal from the start this never would have happened, this was all my fault, I-

No, this was Murkoffs fault, I couldn't depress myself like this. They were the monsters, I had to remember that.

"Lisa" I staggered out the word

She held my hand, her soft touch did more to comfort me than any words could have. "Yes?"

"We can't stay here."

"I know-"

"I don't know where we can go, but…" home wasn't safe, no where else was either, she had to know that.

"I know things are more dangerous than either of us thought they could be."

"Right, we need to get the boys from school, need to leave"

"But, you need a doctor. We have to-"

"Lisa," I turned my hand over to give a light squeeze "I already have the best doctor on the planet"

"I'm a pediatrician."

"Close enough"

I drifted back into that near dream like state where I could neither feel nor move my limbs, the room seemed to swirl around me as I lay on the bed. It only became clear to me that Lisa had moved from her spot beside me when I saw her going through the dresser drawers.

"What are you…?"

"Packing some suitcases"

"Oh… ok"

I knew we had to leave, but the reality just hadn't sunk in on me. Knowing that Lisa was packing to hit the road hit it home. We were leaving, maybe never coming back.

Damn.

***Miles***

"Miles?"

Waylon stood in front of me with a crutch under one arm. Where the hell did he get a crutch?

"What?"

Was he still scared of me? Ah, it wasn't like he didn't have reason to be.

"We need to go."

"Where are we going?"

He blinked a couple times as if he were surprised.

"Oh, um… I meant…"

It was then that it dawned on me, he meant just him and his lady friend. "I get it, you don't want a monster like me riding shotgun."

"What no, it's just, I…"

"You what?"

He stood there leaning heavily onto the crutch, as he began to speak Lisa called from the bedroom.

"Hey Waylon, come here, I think you need to see this."

He looked up at me as if he were considering not moving, which, of course, he ultimately did. Seeing him walk down the hallway I thought to myself.

I couldn't really blame him, we didn't know each other, and it wasn't like he owed me anything. Well actually, we used my car to escape, but I couldn't really hold that one to him. I suppose after this I was free to publish everything I had found. Every second of film was going all over the internet, every document would get published in print and online. Murkoff wasn't getting out of this. They were going to burn, even if I went down with them.

I didn't have too long to consider my options before Waylon hobbled back into the room. He didn't stop to talk to me, but instead grabbed the TV remote. Flipping the TV on he changed it from some kiddy channel over to the local news.

"-the license plate for that is SX7-42L, and again keep on the lookout for a red 2004 Jeep."

My jaw almost dropped open. Right there on the local news was my driver's license picture, they had my name and everything. Also there was Waylon's.

"What the hell?" I found myself saying under my breath.

Waylon spoke up from next to the sofa "it's a news bulletin. Earlier it was saying that we robbed a bank and shot a guard on the way out."

What.

Then it dawned on me. "Fucking Murkoff! Damn it…"

"We need to get out of here" he said looking at me

"Oh, now that we're partners in crime I'm allowed on your little road trip. I see how it is." I slid from the stool, grunting ever so slightly from the weight I put on my leg.

Waylon opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by Lisa walking by with a suit case.

"Into the car" was all she said. Waylon dropped whatever he was about to say and followed. I took a second and followed suit.

It was nearly implausible with the plywood tied to my leg, but I managed to hobble through the stinging pain and made it to the garage.

"You've got to be kidding me."

In the middle of the double car garage was a silver mine-van. The rest of the garage looked like a scene out of an 80s movie, what with the bread board of hand tools and the table that contained little scraps of wood, saw dust, and the partially assembled pieces of a bird house.

"Is that a set of set of bowling balls?"

"What about them?" Lisa said in an overly curt tone that I was beginning to suspect she used because she didn't like me.

Ignoring her I looked at Waylon and continued to the car "You live in a home improvement magazine, where are the 2.3 kids and golden retriever? Are you sure your last name isn't Jones?"

"Umm…"

"Not one for jokes, are you Waylon?"

Any answer that he might have had didn't make it out in time to beat Lisa. She told me to just get in the car and shut up. At least it was clear who wore the pants in that relationship.

I pulled myself into the back seat noting that Waylon rode shotgun while Lisa manned the driver's seat. Yep, real clear who was in charge between those two. Also in the car I couldn't help but notice that there were coloring books and trading cards scattered to kingdom come. Glancing back into the third row of the seats I found an aluminum baseball bat and a tiny pair of cleats.

Before I had the chance to speak up about them we had backed out of the garage and were passing my jeep in the driveway.

"You don't think we should try to hide that?"

"No, most of the neighbors know we live here."

"Ya, the McCray's two doors down used to baby sit, and there's book club, and the neighborhood watch, and the HOA, and.." Waylon added to Lisa's quick comment.

"Wait, did you say baby sit?"

"hm? Ya, the McCray's baby sit the boys whenever me and Lisa need them."

"Boys, plural, as in more than one?"

"Obviously" Lisa made the single word more condescending than I thought plausible.

We aren't talking to her

"Oh, be quiet."

"Come again?" I could hear her getting more pissed at me every time she opened her mouth.

"Not you, just talking to myself. Anyways, you two have kids?"

"Yes, Connor and Garret" it was Waylon who answered me that time.

Sitting in the back seat I decided to let the conversation lie idle. This was getting worse by the minute. I needed a doctor (maybe), had a homicidal AI lodged in my brain, was officially on the run from the cops, probably had Murkoff goons after me, was caravanning with the most apple pie family in existence, and had exactly nowhere I could go. I'm so fucked.

Actually, there was somewhere I could go.

"Hey, guys"

"Yes?" it was Waylon who answered from over his shoulder.

"Do we have any idea where we're going?"

The two of them were silent up front for a while, before Lisa answered "no"

"Ok, so, I know a guy we could go to. He's a bit kooky, but he'll help us out."

"And how do you know this person?"

"A business contact, gets all kinds of info that should be under the radar. He owes me a few favors."

"This would be a pretty big favor." Answered Waylon

"That and I don't want some whack job around my kids" added Lisa

"Oh, he's not that bad. And he's on the up and up, I swear."

We drove on through the suburb, which reeked of apple pies cooling on windowsills and freshly cut grass, until a modest elementary school came into view. Just before the car pulled into a pick up lane that ran past the front doors Lisa spoke up.

"Fine, we'll go to your nut job, but if any bad comes of it I'm holding you responsible."

"Oh, I'm quivering. And ok, it's a bit out of the way, but I think I can still find it."

The car sank back into silence. I heard a bell ring in the distance and not long after a small flood of kids charged out of the building. Some ten minutes after the first few were outside two of the little munchkins walked up to the mini-van. They were both pretty small, both blondies. The slightly shorter of the two had Lisa's red tinted hair but Waylon's brown eyes and was a little stick. The taller one still had a bit of baby fat, also had Lisa's brand of blond, but also had her eyes.

The two were bickering as they slid open the van door.

"No, Mrs. Krutzfielder totally has a pet snake."

"No she doesn't."

"Does to!"

"Nuh-uh!"

They didn't even seem to notice I was in the back seat until one of them pumped into me.

"Does-!"

With a look of mild surprise and confusion the kid looked up at me.

"uh-uh, Mom?" the kid looked up to the front seat

"Never mind him Connor, that's just Miles, he's-"

"Hi Miles!" shouted the other chubby kid who wasn't sitting next to me.

Lisa continued on without skipping a beat "-a friend of your fathers from work. And we're going to go visit and old friend of his. Isn't that right Miles?"

She had a clearly faked smile on her face, when I answered I feigned a happy tone that didn't at all sound like I was being forced at gunpoint. "Sure is."

"…and um, where did you say this friend of yours lived?" that was Waylon, who was eyeing me very nervously through the rearview mirror.

"Oh, it's a bit of a drive, just head up north to Fort Collins, once we're there take a left onto Rist Canyon, I'll tell you more when we get there."

"Who's your friend? Where are we going? How far is it? What happened to your hands? Does he have cake?"

That was not-Connor again. Suddenly very self-conscience I fidgeted with my hands, realizing that I was still holding the camera. How? Before I got the chance to answer Lisa cut in.

"Garret, don't be so nosy."

He said with a huff "Yes mom." Only to start fidgeting around with an iPod he pulled from his backpack.

Really an iPod? What was he, twelve? I don't even have an iPod and I'm forty-two. Looking down at the camcorder in my hand I considered looking over the footage, but decided against it; Garret would probably get up in my business asking what I was looking at and I didn't feel like backing out of that sort of awkward situation.

Now that I think about it Donald will probably be asking all sorts of crazy questions, but I can probably tell him the unfiltered truth without him calling bull shit or being completely repulsed.

There was a metallic buzz at the back of my mind.

Ok, maybe not the whole truth. Crazy conspiracy nuts do tend to flip out a little when they hear the words nanobots, or demons, or Nazis, or demonic Nazi nanobots. Getting him to let my flock in might be tricky too. I mean, Waylon alone would be difficult, Waylon and Lisa together would be kind of rough, but add in a couple of kids, one of which who seems to be paparazzi levels of nosy, and there's no way we're getting in the door.

Another thing, getting the footage out in public. Getting it out won't be hard, getting it believed will. I can't exactly post to the website that usually takes my articles, tabloids will take it, but won't be believed. No normal news station will take that footage, Donald's conspiracy nut buddies will take it up with open arms, but no one listens to them, and-

They're so small

"wh-" I looked up realizing that talking to myself would probably make me seem a little bit insane.

What?

There are tiny human beings next to you. What's wrong with them?

The hell is it going on about now? Looking over to the boys it took me a second to realize that the Walrider wouldn't have ever seen anyone under twenty wile it was in Mont Massive.

Why are they so small?

Because their young. Us normal people take time to grow up.

Oh, so they would look the same as everyone else after we-

No, don't even finished that sentence. No, nononono. You're not saying what I think you're saying. That is not happening.

There was an undefined buzz for a moment after my harsh reply, until: That was odd

What?

You seemed angry.

You're talking about killing kids and splattering them on the walls.

You weren't mad about the security. Or the man in the house.

As I remember it I was unconscious when you slaughtered the Blackwater wanna-be's. And only semi-conscience when it came to the guy at Waylon's, who was about to kill Waylon. Actually, the security guys shot me, so that was self-defense. Also, I seem to remember telling you I wasn't buying your homicidal bull shit.

But you seem more angry now than you were when I last offered some sport.

Well, killing kids is just a little bit higher on the list of Great Big Evil Things than random homicide.

There's a list?

No! Jeez, you don't kill kids.

Why not?

It's a human thing, decent human beings don't kill children, or anyone else, but especially kids.

Ok, but we are still going to have some fun later.

I am done with this conversation, just shut up.

Imagine it, the entire Murkoff staff dead at our feet. Drowning in their own blood, strangled with their coworkers intestines.

Shut up.

The dying under layers of the already dead, groaning for mercy but getting none. The crunch of bones and screams of agony, it will be-

"I said shut up!"

Everyone in the car looked at me in various stages of shock, except for Garret. Waylon was bug eyed and more pale than he had been before. Little Connor was scrunched in a ball against Garret. And Lisa was clenching the steering wheel tight enough that I was surprised it didn't snap.

Well, this was awkward.

The car continued rolling forward with the flow of traffic. I took maybe three minutes before everyone eased back to not being ready to run away very quickly. I'd have to work on not talking back to it out loud. An uneasy silence blanketed the car, only to be broken by a voice than nobody else could hear.

I can't help but notice that you didn't say 'no' to killing the Murkoff workers.