CHAPTER 5

Housing

John Low sat at his desk organizing and signing the last final mountains of paperwork. It has been only a couple days since the mayhem of the station. The thief suffered from a bit of trauma from what happened in the station and from Major Bolden's interrogations, so the military let the weak willed being off with a warning. The events just left the colonel with more paperwork. Whenever John would get up to take a break, Lieutenant Parkinson would be waiting at the door to make sure he didn't try and to escape his paper prison. He tried to escape from his office a couple times, but he just received a gun to his face held to his head by his subordinate. After his escape plans were shot down, John just tried to get as much of the work as he could finished. After several hours and many cases of writer's cramp, the colonel's office was finally free from its paper avalanche. As he laid the pen down on his desk, he gave a heavy relieved sigh and massaged his face in his hands. John silently vowed to himself never to get that backed up in paperwork ever again. What grabbed John's curiousity was that he still couldn't find any trace of information on the arson case Major Bolden was talking about, even though he wiped his office clean.

It was noon, so John grabbed his coat, and after reassuring the guard that all of his paperwork was completed, took all of his subordinates out to lunch. Chaplain Petters, Officer Charleson, Sergent Gordon, Major Tonks, Major Bolden, and the lieutenant all followed John out of the compound and to the city market. All of them were still dressed in their uniforms since their shift still wasn't over. They walked for a while, looking around and debating different restaurants for them to eat at, when they decided just to take a small lunch at a nearby café. It had a couple tables outside on the street where the seven of them crowded around. Sergent Gordon kicked his feet up on the table, despite the groups arguments, and lit a cigarette. The smoke rose to the sky around his light hair.

"Gordon, putt that thing out! You're going to kill us all with that habit," Major Tonks complained as she whipped the free floating smoke away from her face. Gordon just laughed at her and blew another cloud of smoke in her face causing her to cough. Charleson leaned over and flicked the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Sorry that I stay with tradition," Gordon mumbled.

"Hey Lieutenant," the Chaplain said pushing his large glasses up over his brown eyes. "Did you find any new recruits interested in taking the State alchemist exam?" Parkinson gave a little chuckle at the hope that rang through the Chaplain's voice.

"Petters, if you keep praying I bet there will be someone or another who would try to take the test, but my recruits are nowhere near as talented. There are only couples that practice alchemy and most of them are too scared to sign up for the exam with that serial killer out on the loose out near Bentsworth. I couldn't imagine anyone stupid enough to sign up now knowing that it'll just make them a target." Rosy let out a little sigh. "In fact there are less state alchemists out there now than there ever was. If there aren't any new recruits soon, there won't be any left by the time we are all out of office."

"Well, I will just put in a good word next Sunday for all of them folks out there. Someone is bound to show up eventually. Maybe they just don't know it yet," Chaplin Petters said calmly. He looked over to where the Colonel was sitting and noticed that he was not talking at all. John just stared out towards the streets, his black eyes curious and clouded in thought. He gave a slight chuckle at the sight. "Low has an amazing skill to focus on his work."

"Try telling him that when he's doing paperwork," Charleson budged in.

"Not with his paperwork, but things that actually seem important to him. Remember when the state was going to cut Chaplains out of the military?" Everybody just gave a silent nod towards their friend. Before continuing, he scratched his brown haired head, "John wore that exact same look while he figured out a plan to keep me with a job. I just wish I knew what he is thinking about right now."

The waiter brought the group's food out. They all devoured the arrangement of sandwiches and soup as soon as the plates touched the table. The office only allowed them to have an hour for lunch, and they all needed to get back as soon as possible. The seven of them chatted a little back and forth about recent events, and about Major Bolden's amazing adventures out in the east (narrated by himself). When the check came around they all started up another argument about who was going to pay for it. Gordon wanted them all to split it amongst the oldest of the group, pointing his finger at officer Charleson, while he wanted to place the bill on the lowest in rank among them, shoving the check back in the Sargent's face. A little into the argument, Lieutenant Parkinson made them split the bill by a complex equation of rank, age, and height, which somehow ended up giving the Colonel the entire thing. After the food was paid for and their departure made, John pulled Petters off to the side of the road leaving the rest of the group to find their own way back to the base.

"Colonel, where are we going?" the Chaplain asked in his soft heavenly voice as the two of them winded their way down several side streets and alleyways.

"Nowhere Rabbi. I just want to talk to you about something," John said quietly as he parked themselves to the side of an old inn/pub. The only thing that disrupted the awkward silence that the Colonel placed upon them was the muted voices coming from inside the bar.

"What did you want to talk about?" Petters asked him innocently, slightly worried about what John had to say. It never took him this long to say anything to him, and he usually wasn't pulled so far out of the way to be talked to. John just stared back at him with his eyes burning in all seriousness.

"Robert, you said a while ago that you went with a travelling missionary down in the south, am I correct?" he asked. Petters was a little taken aback by what the colonel was asking him. Even though he was the chaplain, it was rare that the colonel would actually talk to him about religious matters. Most alchemists were agnostic, especially John Low. The colonel swiftly took out a picture that was folded in his pocket and handed it to him.

"I want you to tell me all that you know about the arson in Arrington," he commanded, though Robert could hear the slight plea in his voice. When the chaplain looked down photograph, he let out a small gasp at the little girls that gazed back at him.

"I know these girls!" Petters gasped. "They were in my youth group when we stayed in a small church a little outside Arrington. They were little at the time, maybe six or seven, but they really loved to come and listen to my sermons. It was actually, this one," he said pointing to the younger of the two, "that actually dove into my sermons. She was interested in everything, especially angels as I recall. Her sister however, only liked to come for the stories. She was an atheist by her book, but came with her younger sister all the same." He finished his little flashback and handed the picture back to the Colonel, who quickly put it away. After a little pause, Petters asked curiously, "But what do these two girls have to do with the arson in Arrington?"

"Everything," Colonel stated flatly. "Now Robert, is there anything else you know about any of this? What were their names? What happened to them after the fire?"

"I frankly don't know. I can't quite remember the girl's names, they're not that common to begin with, but I can tell you this. After the fire, they stopped coming to my sermons. I thought that they died in the fire, but nobody was found. They just disappeared." Robert Petters face was grave and his tone was thick with mystery. It scared the Colonel to think that a religious man such as the chaplain could ever get that serious.

"Are you sure you can't remember anything else?"

"Well, no. The missionary left the town only a couple days after the event. We made sure to pay visits to the family, but since there wasn't any that made the trip short. It is a shame what those girls had gone through. I just hope the lord is looking after them right now," he said quietly and casted a silent prayer up to the heavens. All of a sudden, something flew through the large window in the pub. Glass shards shattered everywhere and the yells and screams from the pub grew immensely. A green coated figure stood up from the pile of rubble and brushed glass off of herself, just as a large golden lump flew out the same window and crashed on top of it, flattening the person to the ground. The owner of the inn and pub ran out the door and started to scold the two people.

"If you can't pay, don't stay!" The fat greasy owner yelled at them and ran back into the pub in a huff. The two figures, which the Colonel now recognized as the Victorian sisters, crawled over to the curb and sat down silently. John and Robert quietly walked up to the two of them, casting their afternoon shadows on the girl's faces. The Chaplain sat down next to the fully armored Fernandina, sort of in shock.

"What do you want?" Riven growled grumpily at the Colonel. He stared down at her with a stern glance without saying a word. The Chaplain, however, couldn't keep himself together.

"Are you two alright? You flew through a window!" He panicked and started to scour the two girls for any injuries.

"Get off me!" Riven scolded as she pushed the investigating priest off of her. "I am fine. That wasn't the first time I was flung through the window," she mumbled to herself.

"You two really like to get yourselves into trouble. What happened this time? Or were you just window shopping?" the Colonel grumbled half annoyed.

"John do you know these two?" the Chaplain whispered quietly into his ear.

"Unfortunately, we had the chance of meeting before. These are the two girls from the train station. The Victorian sisters, Riven and Fernandina," the Colonel introduced them. Peers looked at the two girls like they slapped him in the face. Carefully, Robert stepped towards the two girls on the curb and bent down to their level. He studied them for a while. His eyes studied them through his large round glasses. Grey caught onto brown, and he let out a small gasp.

"Could it be?" he whispered almost in audible to the wind itself. "Could it really be the girls from my sermons?" The girl's eyes stared back at him in the awkward silence, showing only a hint of horror as he stared at them so closely. But Robert just brushed off the feeling and stood up with the colonel, but not without taking a quick look back at the girls. The colonel, stood straight in front of the two girls.

"Come with me," he commanded them softly. Fernandina rose to follow, but Riven sat on the ground with a little bewilderment.

"Why should we go with you?" she yelled at him defensively. John, who had already taken a few steps back towards the base, peered back over his shoulder.

"I heard you needed a place to stay." He said flatly and continued to walk away. The small girl and priest soon followed.

SUSPENSE! okay enough suspense. Lets get on with this thing. Please Review! I want to know how things are going so far. Yes, I did put a chaplain in the story because it reminded me of MASH. It is not a crossover, I just really like the chaplain in MASH. he seems like a nice guy.