Chapter 2

Joe and Zach walked slowly back towards the guest chamber Joe was using.

"I'd like to talk to Vincent," Joe said thoughtfully.

Zach stopped and turned to face him. "You can't right now. There was a problem with one of the shield doors at an entrance a lot of the Helpers use. He had to go fix it."

"Can I talk to Cathy then?"

"Okay, if she feels like it." He pointed down a tunnel that branched off the one they were in. "It's quicker this way."

The two moved along the tunnel a few minutes until it forked in two directions. Zach pointed down the one that turned to the left.

"You go this way. The first entrance goes to Father's main chamber. The second entrance will take you to Vincent's chamber. I have to go."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Zach laughed. "Yeah … Vincent won't let me off the hook after just two visits."

Joe laughed, too, as Zach turned and hurried away down the tunnel. Joe moved along the tunnel Zach had indicated. He had gone just a few feet when he heard Vincent's voice raised in anger. He hurried to the entrance of the chamber and surveyed the scene before him.

Catherine was lying on the bed, in obvious pain. Father sat on the edge of the bed, bandaging her right wrist. Vincent stood before an attractive young blonde who stood with her head lowered, tears streaming down her face.

"Was my request too difficult?" Vincent grumbled.

"I am so sorry, Vincent," the girl sobbed. "She was asleep. I only ran to get a cup of coffee – for just a minute!"

"If you could not handle the request, you should not have assumed the responsibility!" came the tart reply.

Joe was surprised to hear that the normally gentle voice was raised in anger. But what astonished him most, was the fact that the words were only partially verbal. The words had a decidedly animal-like snarl to them. A further shock was that, while the young woman was obviously upset by his anger, she was not afraid.

Father finished the bandaging and patted Catherine's shoulder.

"I know you're in pain. I have only a heavy narcotic in my bag. I'll go to the hospital chamber and send something to you that's more appropriate."

Father looked at Vincent and the woman. He sighed.

"I'll take care of it," Catherine said softly.

Father rose and left the chamber, nodding to Joe as he passed.

"Vincent."

Catherine's soft voice cut through Vincent's angry tone. In an instant he was kneeling beside the bed. Blindly she reached out her hand. He caught it immediately between his two immense hands.

"You're in pain," he stated almost as if he were the injured one.

"A little," she admitted.

"And upset," he added.

She nodded. "Yes. Some herbal tea would help. You're the only one who can make it just the way I like it. Would you please fix me some?"

"Of course," he answered. These words were almost a purr.

He let go of her hand and surged to his feet. He rushed from the chamber, brushing past Joe as if he did not exist.

"Catherine, I am so sorry," the young woman sobbed.

"Rebecca!" Catherine held out her arms.

Rebecca hurried across the room and the two women embraced.

"It was my fault," Catherine asserted firmly. "When I woke up, by myself, I should've known that someone would be here in a minute … or I should've called out. I knew that I wouldn't be left alone."

"But I promised Vincent I'd stay with you. He was right: It was my responsibility."

"Stop it, Rebecca. It was my fault," Catherine restated. "And once Vincent settles down, he'll realize that." She squeezed Rebecca's hand. "In fact, I'd be willing to bet that before the evening is over, he'll be looking for you – to apologize. But for now," she smiled broadly, "I think you'd better get out of here before he comes back."

Rebecca smiled also. "Yes … I think you're right."

The two women hugged again and then Rebecca hurriedly left the chamber. Catherine lie back against her pillows and put the back of her left hand on her forehead as it furrowed in pain. Gently she massaged the bandage over her right wrist.

"Cathy? Are you okay?" Joe asked.

She gave a small cry and jerked upright off the pillows. "Joe?"

"Sorry," he said as he moved to her side. He grabbed hold of her left hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I thought I was alone."

"No – but everyone else has left. What happened?"

She sighed. "It was so stupid! I woke up and was alone. I was thirsty. Instead of waiting a minute or calling for someone, I tried to get it myself. Vincent had moved his favorite chair so he could sit here beside the bed and hold my hand. I'm not use to it being there and tripped over it, fell and sprain my wrist."

"Are you all right?"

She smiled. "I will be. It really isn't serious."

"But Vincent ..." his voice trailed off.

She frowned slightly. "Yes … he's very upset. He …" A tear rolled down her check.

"What?" he prompted.

"He feels guilty."

"He does?" Joe questioned in surprise. "I thought he was doing a pretty good job of laying out Rebecca because he thought she was responsible."

She shook her head. "No … not really. And he will feel sorry for that in a few hours and he will seek her out and apologize. I know that."

"But if he wasn't here, why does he feel responsible?"

"Because he wasn't here." There was a pause before she continued. "Vincent thinks that he must … protect me … watch over me. And whenever anything happens to me … especially Above … he blames himself because he can't be with me."

"But this happened down here."

She nodded. "But only because I'd been hurt Above."

Joe nodded in understanding. "Yeah," he said softly.

A reflective smile played on her lips. "He doesn't understand that … even if he could live Above … he'd never be able to be with me every minute. But he …"

She stopped suddenly.

"But he what?"

She shook her head. "He's coming back.

"How do you know?"

"Our bond. I feel him coming closer."

Before Joe could ask her any more, Vincent entered the chamber, carrying a tray. He sat it on the table and poured a cup of tea from the tea pot. He carried the cup to Catherine and placed it securely in her hands. He turned to Joe.

"Would you care for some tea? I can get another cup," Vincent offered.

"No," Joe answered as he stood up. "I'm going back to my room … ah … chamber and rest. I'm tired. I just wanted to see how Cathy was doing."

Vincent hung his head. "And you find her … being carelessly tended."

Joe shook his head. "No," he answered. "I find a silly mistake, that could've happened anywhere. And I find her feeling better, and feeling safe, and happy to be where she is."

Vincent nodded briefly in acknowledgement of Joe's words.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe heard a slight sound at his chamber's entrance and looked up. In the doorway stood a man. He was slight in stature with medium-length blond hair that was irregularly cut and looked as if he had not combed it yet this week. But his eyes were bright and alert and shining with excitement. His age could have been anything from l5 to 35. He pointed a finger at Joe.

"You Joe?"

"Yeah, I'm Joe."

He pointed the finger at himself. "Mouse. Vincent sent me."

Without a further word he came into the chamber. sat on the floor and stared up at Joe. They sat looking at each other in silence for several minutes.

"Why are you here?" Joe asked finally.

"Told you: Vincent sent me."

"Why?"

"To tell you."

Joe grinned. "Okay … to tell me what?"

"About Mouse."

"Then tell me."

"What do you want to know?"

Something in Joe began to like this unusual person.

"How long have you been here?"

"Few minutes. Just arrived."

Now Joe laughed out loud. "You're right. That is what I asked. But what I meant was, how long have you lived Below?"

"Always."

"You were born down here?"

"Don't know – don't remember."

"What about your parents."

"No parents. Just friends like Vincent."

"Then how did you come to live in the community?"

Mouse grinned rather sheepishly. "Vincent found, caught, took Mouse to Father." He shrugged. "Lived in community ever since."

"What do you do?"

"Fix things. Help Father. Make plans."

"What kind of plans?"

"New chambers. New pipes. New whatever."

"I've heard the children speak of Helpers. Who are they?"

Mouse shrugged as if unable to answer. "Helpers are … Helpers."

"What do they do?"

"They … help."

Joe sighed. Frustration began to overshadow his humor. "Who do they help? Where do they live?"

"Helpers are Topsiders – live Above. They help Mouse help community."

"How do they help?"

"Bring things: food, clothes, things." He stopped and grinned broadly. "Help." He laughed at his joke.

Joe chuckled also. "Is Cathy a Helper?"

"Catherine! More than a Helper. Vincent's Catherine."

"Can you tell me about Cathy … Catherine and Vincent?"

"Tell you everything. Vincent's my friend. We talk … share."

"What does she mean to him?"

Mouse looked very thoughtful. For a long moment, Joe thought he would not answer but then Mouse spoke.

"Vincent told me once love is end of his aloneness. Everyone knows … Catherine means everything … everything to Vincent."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Late that evening, Joe returned to Vincent's chamber. As he entered the chamber, Vincent looked up from the book he was reading and placed a finger to his lips. Silently Vincent rose from the chair and crossed to Joe. Taking Joe's arm, he led him back into the tunnel.

"Catherine's asleep. I would rather you didn't awaken her ... She hasn't been sleeping well."

"Sure, it can wait."

Vincent looked Joe directly in the eye. Joe grinned, embarrassed, as he realized he had been staring quite openly at Vincent.

"Sorry," Joe apologized.

Vincent shook his head slightly. "It's not necessary. But I sense that you have some questions you'd like to ask."

"I was just wondering. There's something that I still don't understand – and no one else seems able to answer my question."

"And what is your question?"

"It's about you and Cathy. I don't understand your relationship. I don't understand what she is to you."

"Catherine is my life," he answered simply.

"But how … did you meet?"

"I found her Above."

"What do you mean you 'found' her?"

"In Central Park. She was bleeding to death."

Joe's eyes grew wide as understanding began to dawn on him.

"Do you mean – when she was attacked – when her face was sliced up – that was when you met her?"

Vincent nodded. "The men who had harmed her had left her in Central Park. I found her there."

"And brought her down here? Those days she was missing?"

"She was here, Below – healing – and learning."

"Learning what?"

"I could tell you … but I believe she should answer this question herself."

Vincent stopped and cocked his head slightly.

"What is it, Vincent?" Joe asked.

"Catherine."

Without any further explanation, Vincent hurried back into the chamber. Joe followed slowly behind him. Catherine was clinging tightly to Vincent. He was trying to soothe her.

"Are you holding me, Vincent? I can't feel your arms around me!"

His arms shifted as they tightened around her.

"You're safe, Catherine. No one will harm you," the velvet voice crooned.

"I dreamt I was Above … blind … and I couldn't find my way to you," she sobbed.

"It was only a dream. You're here. I have you."

"But if my sight doesn't come back? Vincent, what if I'm like this … forever?"

"Catherine … please … don't. Father said there's no reason to believe that your sight will not return. You mustn't allow yourself … to become so upset," he pleaded with her.

"But if I can't see? If I'm blind?"

"I'll be here … always," he assured her softly.

Gradually her sobs subsided. She simply clung to Vincent in silence. Eventually her breathing became deep and regular. Tenderly Vincent laid the sleeping Catherine back down upon the bed. He covered her with a quilt, his hands paused, caressing her shoulders as he hesitated before letting go of her.

With a weary sigh he stood up. For several minutes he looked at her as she slept. Sluggishly he turned to leave the chamber. Joe knew that the agony in Vincent's eyes would haunt his own dreams that night. Without a word, Joe went back into the tunnel and waited for Vincent to follow him. Vincent came from the chamber. He leaned against the tunnel wall.

"She does not sleep well. Her nightmare returns … two … three … times each night. It's been … almost a week. The swelling has gone … and still her vision does not return. Nothing that I say will alleviate her fears. Nothing that I do … makes her feel safe," Vincent confessed in a tortured voice.

Vincent closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. A single tear rolled down his check. Joe lowered his eyes, unable to answer the raw emotion he was witnessing.

Vincent shook his head, straightened. He opened his eyes again.

"I'm sorry. You're recovering from your own wound. I should not burden you but ..."

"No … listen … I think the world of Cathy," Joe assured him. "Anything I can do to help – even if it's just letting you get this off your chest."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe and Father sat at the table, sharing breakfast. The pipes were strangely silent. Suddenly there was the clanging of a message. With a gasp, Joe dropped his fork. Trying not to, Father began to chuckle. Joe glanced at him harshly, realized the humor in the situation, and then began to laugh

also.

"With everything else you've accomplished here Below," Joe started, "can't you figure out how to fix that?"

Now Father laughed out loud.

"It does not need to be 'fixed.' That's the way we communicate."

Joe looked at him in surprise. "Are you joking? But how? The way these pipes twist and turn … how can you direct your messages?"

"Well …" Father started, but before he could explain, Zach entered the chamber. "Ah, Zachary. What's on Mr. Maxwell's schedule for today?"

"I thought I'd let him talk to William."

Father chuckled. "And I'm sure that that decision has nothing to do with the fresh strawberries the Helpers brought down last night."

Zach broke into a wide grin.

"You may visit William, but I want you to take Mr. Maxwell to Pascal first."

"All right, Father. Right away."

Joe drank the last of his coffee and rose to go with Zach.

Zach led him through the tunnels, joking with Joe as they went. The tunnel widened into a vast cavern. Joe stopped staring in amazement around the Pipe Chamber. Slowly, twisting and turning to get different views of the complicated network of pipes that flowed into the chamber, Joe followed Zach along a catwalk-like ledge to the central point of this gigantic metal spider web.

Joe was confronted by a short, balding man. From each of his wrists dangled a leather throng tied in a loop. From each loop hung a one-half inch pipe about l5 inches long. He had an open likable face. An easy smile came to his lips. The man held out his hand.

"Mr. Maxwell, welcome. My name is Pascal."

Joe grinned at him. "How did you know who I am?"

Zach laughed. "Pascal knows everything that goes on Below. Everything passes through Pascal's pipes. I'll leave you here and come back later."

Joe called after the retreating boy, "Save some of those strawberries for me."

With a wave of his hand, Zach was gone. Joe turned back to Pascal.

"What is all of this?" Joe asked waving his arm around the chamber.

"This is the network of pipes that we use to communicate."

"How?"

Pascal began to explain the basics of the pipe network to Joe. He explained how their language had begun as Morse code and been adapted for their use. He explained how the system was used by the community.

Joe spent most of the day in the Pipe Chamber.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe hurried toward Vincent's chamber. He started through the entrance.

"Radcliffe, can you give me a ..."

"Just a moment," Vincent ordered softly.

But Joe had already stopped. Before him was one of Elizabeth's walls come to life. Catherine stood in the circle of Vincent's arms. But instead of a velvet ball gown, she was wearing a nightgown of sheer silk. Spaghetti straps held up the delicate gown. The pale jade silk clung to her body enticingly from the extremely low neckline to her feet. The candlelight gave her skin the luster of porcelain. She looked like a pastel figurine, except for her bright green eyes. Joe thought, seeing her like this, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Joe registered this all in the instant before Vincent moved slightly to stand between Catherine and Joe. Vincent removed his cape from the back of a chair and laid it around Catherine's shoulders.

"I'm... sorry," Joe stammered, blushing slightly.

For an instant, he was glad Catherine couldn't see him. Vincent led Catherine to his large arm chair and helped her to sit down.

"I was just getting ready to go see the children. Perhaps you could stay with Catherine while I'm gone," Vincent suggested.

"Sure. I wanted to ask her, a few questions anyway."

Vincent stroked her upper arm. "I'll return shortly."

She laughed delightfully, "UnIess they talk you into two stories."

Vincent chuckled. "I promise … unlike last night … only one story tonight. I will return ... shortly."

Joe stood aside so Vincent could leave the chamber. He went over to the bed and sat on the edge.

"Is he jealous?" Joe asked.

Catherine smiled. "No, just protective."

"Should I tell him that l've watched you being wired wearing a lot less than this?"

Now she laughed outright. "If you think you're brave enough."

He laughed. "No, I don't think I'll try that." He sobered. "But I do have some serious things to ask you."

"What about?"

"This place. I don't understand the scam."

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"I've talked to Father and Mary and I can understand why they live like this. But as I understand it, there are a lot more people who live down here."

"There are several you haven't met," she agreed.

"Okay, like Pascal. He's quick, intelligent. What's his angle?"

"What do you mean 'his angle'?"

"Why does he stay down here? With his mind, he could do anything."

She shrugged. "So he's doing exactly what he wants to do. Pascal loves his work. He wouldn't leave his pipes for anything."

"It doesn't make any sense. People who can't survive Above, like Mary – or people who can't live Above, like Vincent. But I don't understand the rest of these people. Are they hiding? Are they wanted by the law?"

"No! This isn't some hole-in-the-wall gang. Joe, these people are here because they want to be. They're here because they believe in the world Father's tried to create."

Joe was silent for a moment. "Are you honestly telling me, that this is just a group of people who just want to live a simpler way of life? Then what about these Helpers I've heard about? What do they get out of it?"

Catherine sighed deeply. "I'd hoped – now that you were down here – that you'd understand. I know that you aren't as cynical as you'd like most people to think you are. I'd thought that once you'd seen the tunnels ..."

"What?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "It's something you must know … here!" She laid her hand on her chest.

"Vincent said that when he first found you and brought you Below, you were learning while you were down here. What?"

"Joe, I grew up in a manner most people spend their lives trying to obtain. But all the people in my life were so dispassionate … so uninvolved. There was nothing in their lives that was worth any inconvenience … any commitment. Vincent allowed me to see beyond the surface … to reach out to others. He showed me how to care." She smiled at him. "Joe, 'There is a truth beyond knowledge.' This world is based on that truth. You can be shown the way, but you cannot be taught. This is a truth you can only learn with your heart."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Father flashed a small flashlight in and out of Catherine's eyes several times. He turned the light out and sighed. Gently he felt around the raw furrow on her temple.

"Catherine … the swelling has gone down nicely. How does it feel?"

"The actual injury bothers me. It itches and pulls, but it doesn't cause me too much trouble. But my head …"

"What about your head?"

"I have a horrible pain … that doesn't seem to lessen."

"Where?"

"It shoots from one side of my head to the other – like a nail driven through my skull."

"Catherine, I don't believe that there's any reason why you shouldn't be able to see."

A puzzled look took over her features. "But … why am I blind?"

Father took one of her hands between both of his.

"What happened in that warehouse?"

She shivered involuntarily.

Father squeezed the hand he held. "Try to tell me," he prompted.

"Joe and I had gone to meet a witness who said he'd testify against a gangland boss we've been trying to prosecute." She shook her head sadly. "It was a trap. We got caught in a gun battle. Suddenly … Vincent was there. He … killed …" she stumbled on the word.

Both Catherine and Father knew the agony caused to Vincent by the necessity of his beast side. Both knew the remorse and guilt that followed him for hours after he was provoked to such acts. Father patted her hand.

"Go on, child," he encouraged her.

"He … killed two of the gunmen. Then the third one shot him. It was horrible! I started to run to him. I could see the blood on his doublet. I tried to reach him. It was like … everything was in … slow motion. I couldn't seem to move fast enough to reach him. He sank to his knees … fell forward onto his hands. I could see him … in that strange light … on his hands and knees … his head hung down as if … as if …"

A sob escaped her lips. She buried her face in her hands. Father stood up and moved closer to her. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

"Shh," he comforted her. "It's all right. Both of you are safe now."

"It … tears at my heart … to see him hurt!"

"I know … and perhaps that's why your vision is gone."

She raised her face toward him.

"Really?" she asked.

"Perhaps."

He handed her a washrag he had rinsed out in a basin of water.

"Here – wash your face. You'll feel better. Let me replace your bandage."

He set about doing so, continuing to talk to her.

"I'll check with Peter to see if he has any suggestions about your sight. And the tablets I gave you for your wrist should give you some relief from your headache. Start taking them again and see if they help."

She nodded.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe laughed at the story Rebecca was relaying about a prank Vincent and Devin, Father's biological son, had pulled when they delivered candles to the Helpers for a celebration called Winterfest.

"And Father," she continued, "was furious! It took him days to get over it."

"I can picture Father. By the way, I saw Father working in the hospital chamber with this woman early fifties, dark hair, dark eyes," he chuckled. "If she were 16, I'd say she was acting like she had a crush on him."

Rebecca smiled shyly. "That was Sarah. She … ah … well …"

Joe laughed and nodded.

"Okay, I don't need to understand Father's love life," he responded good naturedly.

Rebecca laughed also.

"There is something else I'd like to ask you about Vincent," Joe told her.

"What?"

"Does Vincent get angry very often, like when I saw him yell at you the other day?"

She smiled softly. "No, not often. Even when he is angry, he very seldom shows it like that. He's most concerned about Catherine. She's so frightened about the possibility of not getting her sight back. He can feel her fears. And when it's Catherine …" Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

"They have an unusual relationship," Joe commented.

Rebecca smiled. "They have wonderful relationship. It is very special … so unique."

"Why do you live down here?"

"I came down here when I was about six years old. I'd been abandoned – left in the Park one day. One of the Helpers found me. She brought me here below to Father. He's the only father I've had. This is the only family I've ever known. The only home I remember."

"When Vincent was yelling at you, you didn't seem frightened."

"Of Vincent?" She chuckled. "I wasn't! When he's angry enough, because one of us or Catherine has been hurt or is in danger, he's quite capable of doing … whatever … is necessary to defend us … protect us. And while he was distressed because Catherine had been hurt because I'd left her alone, he would never harm any of us." She smiled brightly. "Catherine was right, you know – after supper that night, he did come to look for me – and he did apologize."

Joe shook his head. "You're so easy to talk to. I feel that I can ask you anything. But there's something I can't seem to grasp."

"About us?"

"Yes."

A smile played on her lips. "That's because you're trying to learn about us with your head … not your heart."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe sat alone in his guest chamber. Thoughts and images of the people he had met and the places he had seen the last few days tumbled through his mind.

Vincent had visited him earlier, requesting that he remain in his chamber tonight. Vincent had explained that the Council was meeting and that Joe must not be around Father's chamber during that time. Vincent had been quick to explain that Joe was not prisoner but since Joe could easily lose his way in the maze of tunnels it would be better that he not wander on his own. Since Joe needed the time to absorb the knowledge he had acquired since coming Below, he was content to sit and contemplate.

"Mr. Maxwell?"

Joe glanced up in surprise to see Zach standing in the entranceway.

"Hi, Zach. I didn't expect you until in the morning."

Zach smiled. "I have an invitation for you."

"You do? From who?"

"As you probably know, there's a Council meeting tonight. When Vincent and Father are tied up like this, the children meet on their own. We older ones retell the little ones stories Vincent and Father have told us. We've decided to allow you to come to the Children's Chamber tonight – if you'd like."

Joe thought the invitation over for a minute and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

He entered a chamber that was like a dormitory room. All of the children that Joe had met in Mary's class, as well as many more, were gathered in the room. The children had made a place for Joe to sit. They had excitedly shown him to his seat when Zach had brought him into the chamber. He sat down on a large cushion against the wall.

In amazement Joe sat and listened as the older children, each telling a section, told the story of Pascal's father and a man called John Patter who had developed the network of pipe communication. They told of how Pascal's father had passed the knowledge to Pascal and how Pascal had refined, abbreviating the system for easy use.

When the story was over Joe noticed that many of the children were looking at him.

"Will you answer some questions for me?" he asked

"Sure."

"Of course."

Many of the children chorused an answer.

"Where do you learn your stories?"

"Father."

"Vincent."

"Mary."

"Winslow."

Four children chirped four different names. But when the last name had been spoken, a silence fell over the group.

"These are the stories of our world," Zach explained. "The adults tell us," he motioned to some of the older children. "We tell the smaller ones. In time, they'll tell others."

"We gather when the Council meets," Kipper took over. "We retell the stories so we can be sure we know them."

"And these stories are of things that really happened?" Joe asked.

"Oh, yes," Samantha asserted. "These stories are our history and our heritage."

Joe sat dumbfounded. He realized that he was witnessing how cultures had preserved themselves from generation to generation since before the time of written history. He slowly accepted the fact that he was observing the second generation of a new society.

"Will you tell me more about your world?" he asked.

The children looked around at each other.

"The Council hasn't named you a Helper yet," Eric stated.

"I don't understand what that means," Joe told them.

Zach spoke up. "The people you've met are people who have agreed to meet you. Our society's private. We have strict laws. We aren't allowed to talk to you about someone who hasn't chosen to meet you."

Joe shrugged. "Do you have any stories about Cathy and Vincent?"

Many of the children began to laugh.

"We have lots of stories about Vincent," one of the little girls giggled. "He's always doing things!"

"I think we should tell Mr. Maxwell about Winslow," Samantha said solemnly.

"Yes," most of the young voices sounded.

"But I haven't met Winslow," Joe stated. "I thought you couldn't tell me about people I haven't met."

"Winslow was killed," Kipper explained. "I think Samantha's right."

The children settled down. After a brief pause, Zach began to speak.

"The story begins long ago, with a man who helped to found our world. But soon his evil became apparent and he was banished from our world. But his evil continued to grow and it flowed into the world Above. And when Catherine and Vincent stopped him from selling his drugs Above, he turned his evil against them. One night, when Vincent had not gone to Catherine and she was Above, all by herself, his evil touched her."

At the mention of Catherine's name, Joe had sat up straighter. He immediately recognized the allusion to the drug case he and Cathy had worked on a year or so earlier. He listened in total fascination as the children told him the story of Paracelsus' kidnap of Catherine. They told how Vincent, Pascal and Winslow, followed by Jamie, had traveled lower and lower into the tunnels as they searched for Catherine. The children told Joe how Winslow had given his life on the journey, how Vincent had continued alone, how he had found Catherine and fought to rescue her from Parcelsus so he could bring her back to the community. From the tale, Joe recognized the scene of the avenging Vincent he had seen in the painted tunnels.

Samantha finished the story. "And as they journeyed back to us, Vincent and Catherine spoke of why he had not been able to feel her fear as he was looking for her. And when Catherine told him how she had refused to feel her fear so he would not be drawn to her – so he would not risk his life by trying to save her – Vincent realized how totally Catherine loved him. And they came to understand that Winslow had given his life because he had known that love is worth any sacrifice. And we'll always remember Winslow. Not only because of his great strength, but because of his great heart. We remember him, because his life was an example of what our world means."

TBC