AN: Here's lucky number 7, hope ya'll enjoy it. Also, it's been a while sense I groveled for reviews, so if anyone wants to leave one... On that note, thank you to my regular reviewers. On a completely different note, please enjoy this chapter.

***Waylon***

I was still glancing in the rear-view every twenty seconds. Even though Miles had had his small outburst just over an hour ago I was still on edge. No one had said a word. By some small miracle neither of the boys had said anything, what with Garret being caught up in a book he was reading and Conner going to town on his game boy.

The car had just turned onto Rist Canyon, which happened to be on the northern edge of Fort Collins.

I couldn't help but wonder about this guy we were going to. It wasn't like we had many more options, but I'm still not sure I trust Miles. I mean sure, he saved me from Blaire, and that guy in the house, but after a few hours of crawling through the Walrider's handy work I didn't trust him.

Another thing, who was in charge in there? Miles or the Walrider? Was there any of the original miles left? What if-

"Stay on this road for another hour or so, we're headed out of town."

That was Miles giving more directions. Where were we going? God this seemed like a more terrible idea by the second. I glanced back into the rearview. He was looking out the window, not moving much.

"Hey dad?" it was Connor.

I have to admit that I jumped a little "Ya buddy?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Uhhh, I'm on vacation. Extra-long early vacation."

"Oh, what about school?"

"What about it?"

"Are we going to school tomorrow?"

"…nope, we're on vacation"

"But I told Sam I was going to bring my soccer ball for recess tomorrow"

"You can bring it later, we're going out of town."

"But, soccer…"

"Connor listen to your father" Lisa chimed in on my behalf.

"Yes mom…"

I couldn't keep this up for long. I had to let them know what was going on but they were still in elementary school. I can't keep this up and it's been less than a day that we've been 'on the run'; I'm already having doubts. I have to do something to calm myself down, but I can't. I can't rest, I'm too worried that a patrol car will drive by and notice me. I probably need a blood transfusion, but that's not happening. I need to get my family somewhere safe but no where's safe. I need to-

"Waylon?"

"Wha-what?" my train of thought derailed at the sound of Lisa's voice.

She didn't say anything in reply, but instead gave me a short look of worry before looking back at the road.

I took the cue to take a look at myself, only dimly noticing that I had broken out in a sweat.

I couldn't let myself get into a panic now. After everything in the asylum I couldn't let the aftermath be what kills me. Pushing down a colossal amount of panic I took a deep breath and switched on the radio.

***Miles***

It had been a horribly long drive but we were finally getting close to Donald's place. Not that you could tell. We were five miles down an overgrown dirt path, not worn enough to call a road. The radio had lost its signal half an hour ago and I wasn't sure if it was because we were out in the boonies or because of interference. Either way I had no doubt dear Donnie would be as paranoid as ever and I would have a lot of explaining to do.

We made a final push through a dense wall of foliage and ended up in a clearing. On the far side of the small clearing was a modest sized house complete with a little patio.

"Hey guys, hold up." The car, which was only crawling before, came to a stop.

I opened the door and noticed that Waylon and Lisa were muttering among themselves.

"Hey Donnie!" I yelled for him, knowing that he had to be watching. "It's just me and I've got a hell of a story to tell you!"

One of the boys behind me said something about a bad word. I was in the stopped car for a solid two minutes before a nearby bush shook. From the brush stepped a ghillie suit clad, rifle wielding Donald.

"Miles doesn't drive a minivan, prove you're him!"

"Oh Christ, not this again."

"Prove it!"

"Last time I was here you got drunk and passed out in your basement wearing nothing but socks."

He gave me a hard stare, only to lower the gun. "You old son of a bitch, we agreed never to talk about that"

"You wanted proof I was me, that'd do it."

"Who's that with you?" he raised the gun back to shooting level.

"Ok, it's a long story."

"I don't care, no one's allowed-"

"Donnie, chill! We can talk about this inside."

The driver's window rolled down, giving Donald a clear view of Lisa and probably Waylon too.

"Can you calm down, you're scaring my kids." That was dear old Lisa, being rather intrusive.

"You brought a whole freaking family to my house!"

"Damn it Donnie, listen to me! I've got a big story I need to break. I went after Murkoff like I told you I was, and I've got something. They're not happy about it and now I'm on the run. Now can we get this car hidden somewhere and go inside? I'm kind of beat to hell and have been strapped down in a car for the last three hours."

"You took on Murkoff?"

"Yep, walked out alive with a camera full of evidence too." I strained to hold up the camcorder to show him.

"Well, if you're aiming to take those bastards down, I can't see the harm in letting you stay here for a while."

"Good, I'll tell you more when we get inside."

Donald motioned Lisa to drive to the small garage he had set up around the back of his house. Donald was a paranoid bastard, but he'd help out if I made it worth his while.

"Don't tell me you actually expect me to go back there." Lisa spat from the front seat.

"Mom, I'm scared"

"It's ok Connor, there's nothing to be scared of" Waylon cooed from the front seat.

"Just head back there, we'll be fine."

She shoot a well-known glare through the rearview, but drove forward anyway.

Lisa pulled the van onto a gravel path that served as a driveway and killed the engine. Donald was standing by the passenger door that I slid open. Slowly Waylon untangled himself from the passenger seat and left the car, the boys stayed where they were, with Lisa turning to talk to them. I shut the door behind me.

"What the hell happened to you?" Donald asked me, focusing on the plywood strapped around my leg.

"Terrible things. There all on this camera, I say we get inside and upload this shit to anyone who'll take it."

"Sure thing, but first, who the hell is this?" he asked as Waylon came around the front of the car with a crutch.

"Uh, that's Waylon. He saw some things too, has another camera on him also."

"Mmhm, and what exactly happened?"

I took a glance behind me to make sure the door was shut and that the kids couldn't hear me. "You know how you were convinced that Murkoff was getting up to some terrible shit on US soil? Turns out you were right. There was human experimentation complete with a stadium sized underground lab. I went there off an anonymous email from the inside, found it after everything had gone to hell."

I'm sure that Donald would have grilled me a bit further or at least interrogated Waylon a little if he hadn't been so excited about his being right about Murkoff.

"Shit! Really, you've got evidence, I knew they were up to something! Ha!"

"Celebrate when we get inside, I got shot a couple of times I need to lie down."

"They shot you?"

"Shot, stabbed, thrown out a window, exploded, tortured, you know, the usual."

"Damn, what about you?" he turned to Waylon

"ummm, ya, I got stabbed in the stomach. It's pretty bad."

"Hmph, hand me the camera and we'll go in then."

I knew that Donald would die before losing evidence against the company he had been obsessing over for the last five years, but I still found it very hard to hand him the Camcorder. Eventually, however, I handed it over and started following him towards the house.

Dimly I was aware of the sounds of Lisa and the kids leaving the car and following with Waylon, but I was a bit more focused on what I was going to say to Donald. It would take him all of ten minutes to notice the Walrider in that tape and I knew that he would ask about it. My only choice was to lie about it and say that I had killed it.

But I'm still right here

Don't remind me.

Stepping through the front door I was greeted to the completely normal looking living room, which I knew as a front to the rest of the disheveled house. What I didn't expect was the gargled screech when I walked over the threshold.

Donald's head shot up like a dart. "the EMF!"

Oh shit, I had forgotten about the ghost hunting bull shit he kept hooked up. Donald generally kept to the big bad corporate conspiracies and illuminate and government scandals and the like, but he wasn't above slipping down into occult conspiracies.

"Oh, well, that's odd." I muttered under my breath thinking to the Walrider that it should cool whatever it had cooking.

By the time Donald had dug out the little hab-dash sensor it had stopped whining.

"That's strange" he said holding the silenced hunk of metal.

"Anyways" I spoke up "I haven't eaten for over a day, you got anything?"

"You know I do. Make yourself at home while I take a look at this film"

"Whatever you say."

He skulked off into the back rooms. By this time Waylon and company had gotten into the house.

"Well, our host is in the back, foods in the fridge." I sat down in the sofa. As I did the feeling from my mostly numbed limbs started trickling back, much to my displeasure.

Lisa looked like she was about to say something, before deciding not to. Without many words the Park family shuffled into the kitchen.

Reclining onto the sofa was too nice. The cushion was firm yet soft and not covered with a film of blood or bile, and there wasn't a maniac sitting next to me either. This was heaven.

Or it was until I closed my eyes.

As I lulled off a bit the sound of the Walrider got increasingly louder. First it started as a little whine but soon evolved into a full on roar of static. Until finally its electronic voice was clear as a bell.

This place is boring.

Oh shut up you. It's nice and no one's trying to kill me.

But it's boring.

Well you're just going to have to deal with it because I'm not moving.

There was a hiss of what I assumed to be annoyance.

Look, I'm still beat to hell and kind of on the verge of death. I say I take a while to heal up and what I say goes.

Human bodies are so weak.

Sue me.

The Walrider fell silent, I assume to mope for a bit. I took the silence in stride and let myself relax. The sun was setting outside and there was the smallest hint of bird song, if I didn't know any better I'd say I was dying on the lab floors and just hallucinating everything. Either way I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I'd take a nap, just a short one.