Chapter 15: New Arrivals
October 2, 1998
12:00 AM
Streets of Raccoon City
'We've been running for hours.' Eddie thought as he mounted another rise with the bikers only a few steps behind, and those horrible, springing beasts still refusing to give up the chase. They had tried everything to lose the hulking monsters pursuing them: running up side streets, darting between alleyways, doubling back on their own tracks but they were never fear of the Stalkers – as Eddie had come to think of them – for more than a minute or two. It took the rookie only a short time to figure out the creatures were tracking them by scent, it was the only explanation for how the things were able to keep pace after the hundreds of twists and turns they had made.
Eddie checked his weapon, the .38 Tredd had given him what felt like years ago, as he ran up the street not daring to pause even a moment with all the dark blurs jumping from rooftop to rooftop above them. He thumbed away the empty casings and snorted. One round left. 'That's lucky.'
That was another thing about the Stalkers: they could take a bullet as if it were a stiff slap. Officer Gabbor had learned that particular lesson the hard way when one of the ape-like beasts had dropped down in front of him – seeming to fall from the middle of the sky – after he led the group around the corner of an apartment building. Reacting solely on instinct, adrenaline lending the young man courage and strength enough to raise Tredd's gun, Eddie fired point-blank into the Stalker's barrel chest five times. He remembered watching in muted horror as the .38 rounds embedded themselves in the monster's scaly carapace and all it had done was bellow that fierce, warbling cry. At the time, that bestial shriek had sounded a great deal like a mocking laugh to Edward Gabbor.
Shuddering at the memory, Eddie did his best to focus on the present. If it had not been for the quick wits and quicker throwing arm of one of the biker's – sending a wicked-looking stainless steel knife through the Stalker's throat that sent it leaping away to safety – the rookie knew he would have wound up just like Howard Peterson. Poor Howard. Poor Ben. Poor – no – no he wouldn't think about any of them now!
"Wait up!" A gruff voice called behind the young officer. "Wait for one damn second!"
Going against his better judgment Eddie ground his feet to a halt and quickly ducked into an alleyway off to his right. The Stalkers seemed to have some trouble just plopping out of the air into those areas. It should be safe for a minute or two, long enough for him to catch his breath and give the trio trailing him a chance to catch up. One of them was hurt, he thought.
Sucking in a deep breath, Eddie sagged against the cold concrete wall behind him, feebly trying to wipe away the sweat pouring down his dirty face. The area was narrow, dark and damp, just like every other alley he had seen that night. There was a smell in that cramped space that curled the young man's nostrils. Looking to his right he could see the stack of trash bags piled halfway up the building's exterior. Judging by the stench they must have been sitting there for weeks now. It was a pungent odor, the sickly sweet smell of spoiled fruit. Eddie had grown quite accustomed to that aroma during his short stay in Raccoon.
'Just like the zombies at the barricade.' He thought, in the distance the sounds of boots coming around the corner filled his hearing. 'Just like the zombies in the streets, just like the ones that tore Tredd to – no! No, I won't think about that now.'
The biker's came around the corner then, stumbling into the alley while coughing and gasping for breath. The skinny one with the weasely face fell to his knees and succumbed to a violent coughing fit while the tallest of the three supported a man that could have been his brother for their match braided beards and weather-worn faces. It had been him that had saved Eddie's life less than an hour ago.
"You got a name kid? I can't seem to remember it." He asked and the rookie gave a start, thinking the man might have caught him starring and was none too pleased. The biker certainly didn't look like the type one would want to upset.
"Y-yeah." Eddie stammered, barely able to hear his own voice above the sound of blood thundering in his ears. "Eddie Gabbor. I owe you one, I guess, that was some fancy work with the knife. If it hadn't been for you I'd be mince meet now."
"Don't worry about it." The biker shrugged resting his injured friend against the wall. "I'm Shank, the guy with the bum leg is Slugger and the skinny fellow hacking his brains out over there is – "
"Don't call me skinny you fat fuck!"
" – Tech. Welcome to the fucking party, Ed." Shank finished unphased by his comrade's indignant outburst.
'Shank? Slugger? Tech? Who are these clowns?' Eddie wondered absently then shook his head. Out of all the things that mattered in Raccoon City tonight names were the least of all. Somewhere above them a shriek split the momentary silence and Eddie knew it was time to be elsewhere. "Let's move."
On they went, curving around side streets or dashing through dank alleys – anything that would keep them off the wide-open main roads where they would be easy prey for the quick Stalkers. They had to be getting close to the station by now, Eddie though. Even with fear and panic clouding his thoughts the rookie still had the presence of mind to keep an eye out for street signs to tell him he was going in the right direction. 'We have to reach the precient,' the voice in his head repeated over and over like a mantra, 'it'll be safe at the station.'
Then, crouched in between a Grady's Diner and a Winners department store, he saw it. Bodies. Hundreds of bodies littering the street outside the massive stone foundations of Precient 24. Men and women – their flesh discolored and seeming ready to fall off the bone – in street clothes lay slumped over officers in bloodstained uniforms or black SWAT combat gear. Shell casing lay scattered everywhere, the black asphalt was stained crimson with so much blood. The stench of death and decay was so overpowering that Eddie lurched forward and emptied his stomach where he crouched.
"What is it?" Shank asked, inching closer to Eddie. "What's wrong? Are…" The sharp intake of breath behind him alerted the officer that the biker had finally taken note of the scene before him.
"Oh God," Eddie muttered, the words warped by the choking sounds that came out of his mouth as he felt terror wrap its hands about his throat. "They're all dead. Everyone's fucking dead. It's my fault; everyone around me always dies. Ben was around me. Howard was around me. All dead." Officer Gabbor stared at the massacre with wide eyes, hardly aware how violently his shoulders were shaking.
"These guys look like they've been dead for hours, kid." Shank replied behind him though his tone sounded a little choked as well. "I don't think you were around when these dudes bit it."
Eddie didn't hear – couldn't hear – anymore, the voice of his memory was too loud. All he could hear was Ben screaming his name before the zombies dragged him from the fence, his voice so full of fright and accusation that his partner had abandoned him. Then came the sound of claws – monstrous talons that glittered bone white in the moonlight – cutting through sinew and bone. Howard Peterson's head fell at his feet, glassy eyes forever fixed in an expression of shock.
"None of you should be following me." The officer said at last, realizing Shank had seized one of his shoulders. His eyes remained fixed on the rows of bodies before him though. "Everyone who stays with me dies. I'm cursed or something."
"Trust me, kid," Shank said at his back and surprisingly he managed an amused snort, "we all feel that way. It must take some real fucking rotten luck to have wound up in Raccoon tonight but a lot more people than these poor bastards have died so don't try and carry all that weight on your conscience. We've all got enough to think about without having to add that."
Eddie nodded slowly but nothing the big man said was going to change his mind or erase his memory of Ben Tredd and Howard Peterson. He was cursed, plain and simple. Cocking his revolver the young officer charged headlong into the darkness, careful not to trip over a bullet casing or slip in a puddle of blood.
As the group neared the station's front doors whatever relief Officer Gabbor had felt at seeing two, very much alive, SWAT troopers standing guard behind a short wall of sandbags was hastily swept away as a chorus of unearthly cries erupted overhead and the sound of heavy feet hitting the pavement filled his ears. Fresh panic crashed over the young cop in a wave as he turned to see five of the hulking Stalkers – their bodies all bulging muscle and glistening scales – standing in the street behind them. He knew it was impossible but looking at the beasts so close Eddie would have sworn the creatures looked triumphant. They had been waiting for this moment a long time after all.
"Run!" Eddie screamed, following his own advice as he tore up the street in front of him, aware of Shank's heavy panting to his left as he struggled to support Slugger's weight and run at the same time.
Blood thundered in his ears, fire burned in his chest, ice sat in his belly. The station loomed in front of him, the guards waving wildly their eyes wide with sheer terror as they caught sight of what chased the ground. 'Almost there.' Eddie thought desperately. Why couldn't he run faster? 'Twenty feet and I'm there. Almost there. Almo –'
A dark blur and ear-piercing squeal to his right obliterated the thought. One of the Stalkers landed less than a foot to Eddie's right, close enough for the startled officer to see the creature's fiery red eyes burning a hole through his skull and a maw lined with rows of dripping yellow razors. Steeling himself against the inevitable blow, Officer Gabbor waited to feel those strong jaws close around his neck and have that cavern of daggers tear it from his body when, quite suddenly, the Stalker's head blew apart, showering him with dark blood and bone fragments.
Jaw dropping Eddie whirled in amazement, looking for his savior. He found him a moment later as he saw moonlight glinting off something atop the roof of Precient 24. 'A scope,' his mind told him, 'a sniper.' Silently thanking the man – or woman – who had just saved his bacon, the young officer ran on.
'Ten feet.' Gunfire filled the air as the troopers standing guard opened up on the horde of Stalkers their submachine guns. Overhead the deep boom of a rifle sounded.
'Eight feet.' Eddie's lungs burned with icy fire, his legs screamed out for rest. He couldn't run fast enough. He would never make it.
'Four feet.' The creatures bellowed in annoyance as the hot lead peppered their hides. More splitting shrieks sounded in the night, more heavy bodies came thundering down to the street. It was raining the murderous things. 'Never make it.'
'Two feet.' Somehow Shank had managed to get in front of the younger man, his long legs carrying him a pace or two ahead of Eddie despite the added burden of Slugger's bulk. The double-doors to the station were standing open now, William Brown towering in the doorframe dressed in a blue windbreaker and wielding an MP5 of his own. He was flanked by two black-clad SWAT officers, all were firing past Eddie, their mouths moving but any sound was swallowed up by the endless gunfire and hungry cries of the Stalkers.
'One foot.' Planting one shoe firmly on the sandbags Eddie prepared to vault himself up and over the barbed wire covering. He could see Shank and Slugger on the other side already, dashing up the front steps as fast as they could move. Where was Tech? Had he fallen behind?
"Behind you!" Captain Brown screamed, raising his weapon, eyes starring past Eddie overflowing with despair and a primal kind of fear.
Turning slowly – everything seemed to be happening in slow motion for Officer Gabbor now – his whole vision was taken up by the Stalker hurling itself through the air towards him. Red eyes burning with desire, saliva pouring through its teeth in anticipation, the creature pulled one clawed hand back.
"Shit." Eddie mouthed, trying to turn out of the way but already knowing it was too late. He had dodged death too many times that night, been lucky far too much. Now, the well of his luck had run dry.
The word seemed to spin as Eddie lost his footing on the damp sandbag. He slipped, falling backwards, the Stalker bellowed its bloodthirsty cry and struck out. Darkness rushed up to take Eddie Gabbor.
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During his twenty-five years Eddie Gabbor had experienced several rather powerful hangovers after several nights of rather powerful drinking but all those hangovers combined could not hold a candle to the headache he awoke to. It felt a great deal like someone had walloped him over the head with a sledgehammer. A rather large someone at that too.
Groaning, the young officer struggled to a sitting position and realized his head was not the only part of his anatomy that sledgehammer had been taken to. It seemed Eddie's back and right leg had also received a once over. Touching the back of his skull gingerly Eddie grimaces as his fingers brushed across the plump, swollen lump of flesh that had taken up residence there.
'At least I know I'm still alive.' The rookie thought, shivering at the memory of the Stalker throwing itself through the air at him, foaming at the mouth with eager anticipation. 'I doubt dead people have headaches like this. Why, is another question though. Why…'
"Why am I still alive?" The words were out of his mouth before Eddie even realized he had spoken.
"How you're alive is a better question." William Brown said, stepping into Eddie's vision. There was blood on his jacket but he was smiling all the same. There was relief in those tired, fatherly eyes but pain as well. Eddie wondered just how much he had missed since the incident at the barricade. "You must have the devil's luck, son. You sure picked a good time to fall on your ass, toppled right under that…that thing's…swing and gave me the shot I needed to take it's head off."
Lucky. He had been lucky again. Eddie didn't know whether to jump for joy or cry out of exasperation. Maybe he should do both he thought.
"There were others with me." Eddie said, suddenly recalling the faces of the three rough gentlemen who had come all this way with him. "Are they – "
"We're fine." Shank said, lounging in the chair behind the reception desk, his huge booted feet propped up on its surface. "You might know how to move like a fox when the farmer is after him but you sure aren't too perceptive, kid."
Eddie really opened his eyes then, realizing where he was. Only once before had he seen the lobby of Preceint 24, on his first day after being assigned to the Raccoon police. He had met William Brown then…and Benjamin Tredd. Had that day even really happened at all? It seemed so long ago to Eddie, almost as if it were someone else's memory.
Once again Eddie was struck by the immensity of the reception area – and the lonely emptiness of it. On that first day of his assignment Officer Gabbor had though Preceint 24 to be more of a museum than a police station. Today though, the sheer size of the department wasn't what caught Eddie off guard. No, the people occupying it were quite a sight as well.
There were nine black-clad SWAT troopers standing scattered about the room – granted three of them were laying across the floor, ragged bloody gashes criss-crossing their bodies. Eddie felt a pang of guilt for the dead men. He had led the Stalkers here and that was most definitely their work. More deaths to lay at his feet.
Of the troopers still standing though, Eddie recognized one as Sam Brocket. He had been assigned to the west barricade as well but Eddie had only spoken with the man in passing – stuff like "Hey" and "Rough night huh?" – whether the man was a close friend or not, hardly mattered to though. The young officer was overjoyed that someone else had survived the slaughter that took place there.
Eddie's elation doubled as he caught sight of the raven-haired woman on Sam's right. He had spoken at length with Kathryn Ward during his stay at the west blockade. Kathy seemed to have taken it upon herself to make all the new transfers feel welcome and though he had thought the woman's behavior patronizing at first, Eddie had grown to enjoy their conversations and her easy smile. Frowning, he wondered why she was starring so intently at Sam with a look that was as close to confusion as the rookie had ever seen her wear.
William was there too, of course, towering over the much younger man. Shank, still seated behind the reception desk was casually cleaning his fingernails with the point of a long-bladed boot knife. Tech – apparently the rat-faced man had not fallen behind after all – stood to the big man's right appraising a tear in his jacket sleeve and scowling at nothing in particular as seemed to be his way.
Eddie rubbed his sore eyes when he noticed the final occupants of the precient's lobby – thinking that perhaps he was hallucinating and the five men arranged in a loose semi-circle around Captain Brown and himself were nothing more than a figment of a sleep deprived mind. It was possible, surely, but why would he have imagined soldiers? Eddie was still debating in his head whether or not the group of men in camouflage body armor were real when one of their number – a fellow with gritty subtle across his face and eyes filled with as much sorrow and exhaustion as William's – stepped forward and answered the question for the rookie.
"You look a little surprised to see us. Captain Brown said your name was Ed Gabbor? I'm Lieutenant Zeke Wilcott." The man was real all right. You couldn't get much more white-boy when your name was Zeke and Eddie surely would not have dreamed up a bunch of scruffy, gun totting white-boys – well, one of them was a brother but nevermind that – to take his mind off his troubles. No, for a situation of this magnitude Halle Berry wearing nothing but a smile would have been a much more likely – and pleasant – mirage.
"Nice to meet you, lieutenant." Eddie said, slowly rising to his feet to shake the soldier's hand as he introduced the other members of his squad. Eddie nodded to each in turn. "Enjoying our quiet little town so far?"
"It does seem to have a fair share of…surprises." Zeke replied, eyes wandering to the bodies of the three dead SWAT officers, no doubt wondering what exactly had taken the lives of the three men. Then again, if he had survived this long, the lieutenant and his men had probably already bumped into their share of the nightmarish delights Raccoon City had to offer.
"No shit." Tech mumbled, examining the rip in his sleeve.
"What the hell were those things?" Sam said, nodding towards the front doors.
"I highly doubt any of us want to know the answer to that question." Eddie sighed, reaching down to rub his sore ankle. He must have fallen on it when he toppled off the sandbags. "What I want to know is how you got rid of them. Those things ate everything we had and still looked hungry for more."
"Those buggers know when they're outmatched." The man Zeke had named as Wesley said with a crooked grin. That grin quickly turned to a frown when his eyes fell across the tattered remains of the three SWAT troopers though.
"Put enough lead in the air and they turn tail pretty fast." William said. "We had quite the advantage with Montigo on the roof and Corporal Cooper as well."
Eddie nodded, Montigo, he would have to remember that name. Turning, his eyes ran over Shank once more and the young officer furrowed his brows in puzzlement.
"Where's your friend?" He asked. "Slugger? He's okay right?"
"Huh?" The biker gave a start when he was addressed and hissed irritably as he nicked his finger with the tip of his knife. "Damn it. Oh, Slugger? Yeah, he's fine, the doc is looking him over now. Just a little sprain so I'm sure he'll be back on his feet and dancing in no time. Then again, after hearing what the good captain had to say it is far more likely we're all officially and royally boned. Go on, Captain Willy, tell the kid what you told us a minute ago – what with him being unconscious at the time and all."
William sneered at the bearded man, clearly not caring for the suggestive nickname, as he eased himself into a guest chair. "As I already explained to these…gentlemen…our situation here is not good. We're low on ammunition, our food and water won't hold out for more than a couple weeks, none of the department's radios are working right and – " the captain's gaze fell across the three men laying in bloody heaps on the tile floor, " – we're running low on manpower. Sergeant Thompson and his team still haven't returned. At least they got the generators running again though."
With that William trailed off, lowering his head into his hands and tugging at his brown locks. Eddie gave the man a confused, considering look before Lieutenant Wilcott stepped in to take up the tale anew.
"After losing contact with the blockades throughout the city," Wilcott began, "your captain tells me he assembled a team to sweep the streets for any survivors. They found a large group of civilian refugees instead, which were brought back to the station. Unfortunately, upon arriving, Captain Brown discovered that the forces he had left behind to safeguard the precient were engaged in a street battle with those…zombies outside."
"Zombies!" Shank laughed, a wild, nervous sound. "Something for everyone."
"In any case," Zeke continued after giving the gruff biker a wry look, "Captain Brown was left with no choice but to lead the survivors through the station's only other entrance: the parking garage. If I have my facts straight then someone forgot to close the gate to the parking level and some of the carriers – at least we think those things are the carriers of this mystery virus – were able to get in. Captain Brown and those accompanying him were caught off guard. Only one of the civilians and a handful of William's men made it back alive."
Out of the corner of his eye Eddie could see William's shoulders shaking violently and he gripped his hair so hard the rookie though the burly captain intended to yank it out by the roots. He was sobbing. William Brown was sobbing? Somehow that didn't seem possible but Eddie had to remind himself, none of what happened that night seemed possible.
'Like Ben getting eaten alive by a few hundred dead cannibals, right?' The contemptuous voice in his head rambled. 'Or Howard getting his head sliced off by something out of a John Carpenter flick. Who would have guessed that, eh?' Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to shake the voice away. 'Shut up! Leave me alone!'
"Some good came of it though." Zeke said in an unsteady voice, glancing warily at the weeping captain. "The civilian is a doctor – Greg Burke – who's tending to – uh – Slugger now as well as my pilot. The creatures outside have also…dispersed as you saw on your way in here."
Sam snorted at that and glowered at Wilcott, his voice dripping acid. "Yeah, only after they figured out no fresh meat was coming out for them to chew on."
"Woah, woah, woah." Eddie said, throwing his hands up. "Your pilot is hurt? How exactly are you planning on getting us out of this nightmare then!"
"They aren't." Sam said, his tone could have peeled the finish from a ship's hull. "They never were. Go ahead and tell him, lieutenant."
Zeke shot the SWAT trooper a guarded look then simply sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "My unit was sent in along with three others," he said, "to reinforce the defenses at the blockades surrounding the city. On our way here though there was an accident – our chopper's engine overheated and we were forced to make a crash landing. Shortly after we were attacked by a large group of those…things, the zombies."
"Great." Eddie mumbled to himself, having some idea of where this was leading.
"Our commanding officer along with the rest of our chalk was killed during the attack." Zeke went on unabashed but his eyes flickered with remembered horror. "My team and I ran from the crash-site and tried to get into contact with the other Ranger units, unfortunately no one answered our call at first but I managed to get a hold of Captain Haag who said his unit had also been overwhelmed by the – by the zombies. He told me that he was going to try and make it here along with the survivors of his chalk. He – "
"Let me guess," Eddie held up a hand to quiet the lieutenant. "He still hasn't shown up either?" Zeke nodded grimly. "Perfect, that's just perfect. I still don't see why that means you can't just call in more of your boys to come and pick us up though."
"They can't do that," Sam said in a bitter tone, interrupting Lieutenant Wilcott again and earning another hard look from the Ranger, "because we could all be infected with this Raccoon Syndrome too! Not to mention the Army is a little nervous about sending in more men after four teams of highly trained, heavily armed personnel are almost totally wiped out by things no one with any sense would believe!" Sam looked ready to burst but Kathy lay a hand tenderly across his shoulder and he settled for a defeated sigh instead.
"I got off the horn with command shortly before you arrived." Zeke said, turning his gaze back to Eddie. "General Bosa won't be sending in any help until he's had a chance to 'better asses the situation' down here. No more troops are coming. No more rescue choppers are coming. We're on our own for the time being."
Eddie slumped his shoulders, feeling much more tired than he had all night. "So much for being lucky." He muttered.
"It gets better." Zeke said, running a hand through his sweaty hair and Officer Gabbor could see it in the man's eyes that by "better" he meant worse. "Until General Bosa gets back to me I won't know for certain but there's no doubt in my mind that the military won't remain idle for long. They'll be forced to take action at some point – before things get even more out of hand."
"What do you mean?" Kathryn asked, concern plain as day in her voice.
"Panic fire." One of the other Rangers said, a stone-faced man leaning against the back wall with a bolt-action rifle resting against his shoulder. "Basically the president gives the green light and this whole place gets fire bombed until its just dust and ashes. Every trace of the virus gets destroyed – along with everyone still inside the city."
"Meaning we need to blow this pop stand before the prez pushes the button." Shank said, taking his boots off the desk and sheathing his Bowie knife once more. "Of course that just means running across a city filled with a few hundred thousand zombies and a shit load of other nasties straight out of a Stephen King novel. Oh, and if that wasn't enough we have to do this all on foot since the fucking parking garage is overrun with those things! Good fucking luck, right?"
"There may be another option." Everyone in the room jumped as the sound of a new, crisp, matter-of-fact picked up on the end of Shank's sentence. Eddie watched as the newcomer strode forward, looking at Lieutenant Wilcott.
He was a tall man, nearly a whole head taller than the young officer. The glasses perched on the edge of his upturned nose gave the man a stately, knowledgeable look – like a scholar of old. Eddie could see traces of blood standing out against the blue of his shirt.
"We're open to suggestions, doc." Zeke said with a nod. So that was Doctor Burke.
"Saint Jude's has a number of helicopters in its employ," Burke said, pushing up the glasses on his nose, "used for retrieving drowning victims, hikers that become lost in the Arklay Mountains as well as flying in patients from other states. If both the helicopters are still on the landing pad they should be able to carry all of us to safety. I believe Mr. Shank and Mr. Tech already expressed an interest in going to Saint Jude's as well, yes?"
The two bikers nodded and Shank added: "We are going there. I'm not leaving my crew behind in this hellhole."
"There're a lot of ifs in that plan doc." Zeke said critically. "The hospital might be closer than the city limits but it's still a long way on foot."
"Of course," Burke nodded. "Of course, it would mean a trip to the parking garage. Now, that does sound dangerous, yes, but I have noticed that these – um – zombies…are rather slow. We should be able to maneuver around them easily enough while Captain Brown and Lieutenant Wilcott provide cover for the rest of us. That is, of course, provide the captain is willing – "
William was on his feet in an instant, yanking back the bolt on his MP5. His eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted but determined and firm all the same. Now that was more like the William Brown Eddie remembered from their first meeting so long ago.
"I'm willing." The brawny captain said, slinging the submachine gun around his neck. "I want some revenge on those bastards anyways."
Doctor Burke nodded, seeming to take everything in stride as he causally rolled his sleeves down once more. "There is…one other thing of course."
"What's that?" Zeke asked as the physician's pause became more drawn out.
"Well," Burke began, his gaze flickering from person to person in the room cautiously as if he feared any one of them might strike him in a moment. "I think it is quite apparent that we cannot allow this virus to spread to outlaying areas. This means, of course, that we cannot bring anyone already infected with whatever the disease those things are carrying to Saint Jude's with us."
The grave, foreboding silence that followed Doctor Burke's words greatly perplexed Eddie. 'Why are they all just standing around like lumps?' The officer wondered, looking at all those long faces starring down at their toes.
"That's cool though, right?" Eddie asked slowly, wary to break to atmosphere that seemed to forbid speech. "No one here is sick…right? Right? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Author's Note: Another chapter is up for you, my Readers. Please read and review when you keep a chance, your feedback keeps me inspired and writing after all. I hope you enjoy.