I

I remember the gunfight between Kane and Abel Conner like it was yesterday.

Most folks around town remember it too, but I know certain details about that shootout since I personally oversaw the whole battle.

One would think that it would be the height of foolishness for a couple of church-going folks to name their sons after the two brothers in the Bible that formed the first tale of murder, but I’m not the one to judge. Abel became a cowboy. He herded the cows and broke the horses on the family ranch. Kane grew to be a farmer. He planted and harvested the wheat and cotton that was sold to nearly fifty of the surrounding counties in North Texas. While the Conner family a good deal of wealth, those two boys have been at each other’s throats since they crawled out of their cribs. Old Bill Conner managed to keep them in line when they were growing up, but since he rode a lightning bolt straight to the pearly gates, Abel and Kane have been constantly at war, which led to the infamous gun match.

I was getting some new revolvers ready for display in my store when ’Becca walked in. I knew something was wrong since it was Tuesday, and ’Becca only came to town on Sunday and did her shopping after church service. My concerns grew when I heard the crying hitch in her breath, and saw her wipe tears from her eyes. I put down the pistol I was cleaning, wiped my hands free of gun oil, and walked around the counter. “Good morning, ’Becca. Is everything all right?”

She looked at me with those sparkling blue eyes, and fresh tears began to flow. As I walked closer, she finally let go, crying in great big sobs. I put my arms around her while she cried down the front of my shirt. I was worried about her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy holding her close. She began to calm down, and I asked her again what was wrong. My first thought was that something bad had happened to one, or both of her boys, and I wasn’t completely wrong.

She pulled away from me, and cried, “My boys are going to kill each other over a dead horse, and I can’t stop them!”

II

I keep a bench along the back wall of my shop for customers who need to wait while I filled their orders for ammunition or gunpowder, and that is where I led ’Becca so she could rest her heels while I poured a couple of shots of whiskey. I gave one glass to her. She downed it in one gulp, took the other one from my hand, and finished that one as well. I never knew her to be much of a drinker, however, I didn’t chastise her for the breach of etiquette.

I just refilled another glass and handed it to her. She took a tiny sip and started to calm down. The rye was working on her since the hitch in her breath was gone, and some color had returned to her cheeks. She lifted those blue eyes to me and told me her tale of woe.

It all started early that same morning. Abel was taking special care of a powerful mustang stallion that had a slick black coat. He had been showing the horse off in town for the past few days and had even talked about taking it to that new stock show in Fort Worth. He was leading it out of the stables early that morning for a good ride, and before he could get the saddle on, a loud gunshot exploded across the plains. The horse reared back on its hind legs, then collapsed to the ground.

Abel was stunned at how quickly it all happened. As the horse kicked out the last of its life in the dust, Abel knelt down towards the beast. There was a very large blood-soaked hole just behind the eye. Blood poured from its mouth, soaking into the ground. Looking at the size of the hole, Abe knew the shot had to have come from a large caliber weapon. In a flash, he recalled that his brother owned a buffalo gun, and he jumped to the conclusion that Kane targeted the horse for assassination. Now, during this tragic event, Kane was out hunting when dawn arrived, however, he was after animals like rabbits, raccoons, and other varmints that might chew up the vegetables in his garden. He was using his Winchester rifle, while the buffalo gun was still mounted on the wall in his bedroom, but little details like that didn’t matter to Abe. He called Kane out, and in front of God, their mother, and several hired hands, he accused Kane of being a horse killer. The boys fought it out for about an hour, and Abel challenged Kane to a gunfight on the main street that Saturday.

Poor ’Becca remained calm while she told this story, but I could tell this whole ordeal was worrying her to death. She leaned closer and said, “Silas, please talk to them. They respect you. Surely you can talk some sense into their thick skulls.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t listen to you. You’re their Ma.”

She wiped her eyes again and gave a sad smile. “If they were younger, I would’ve taken a whip to them. But for God’s sake, they’re seventeen years old and over a foot taller than me! Ever since Bill passed on, they’ve been snorting and butting heads like a couple of bulls! And, God help me, I think they’ve been looking for a reason to kill each other. Is this how brothers are supposed to act?”

She gave me a pleading look as she asked that last question. As if by being a man, I should know the thoughts of all my fellow male brethren. Of course, ever since I started my own journey as a gunsmith, I often wondered about the violent tendencies of man. How many guns have I sold were used to harm other people? I have since made peace with the fact that guns are available for anybody that wanted them. They can be used for defense of hearth and home, and for putting meat on the family table. So no, the guns themselves couldn’t be blamed when they are used to take human lives. That judgment has always gone to the evil that lives in the human heart and soul. Reverend Parker can cry in the wilderness about the misery and pain of violence, but how is one to act when violence comes kicking down the door, demanding everything that one has raised, built, or grown from the ground? Men start wars for gain and power, while other men must participate if they put any value in their lives or livelihood.

How can I explain this to the pretty blue-eyed lady next to me? That her sons were destined to fight? That violence is part of the male spirit? I didn’t want to do that to her. And, she did have a point. Men need to learn to talk to each other and try to maintain peace. It would make things a whole lot easier.

“All right, “I said, “go finish whatever business you have in town. I’ll close up the shop, saddle my horse, and ride with you to your place. I’ll talk to your boys, and see if we can resolve this.”

’Becca slumped in relief. She held my hands as she stood up. “Thank you, Silas. You come over and talk to them, and show them the error of their ways.” She took a couple of steps and stumbled into the display case. “Whew, this whole mess got me so worried that I can hardly walk straight.”

I started to blab that maybe it was the shots of rye that was in her system, but I put a firm clamp on my tongue. Her walk became more steady as she moved closer to the door. She turned back and said, “I’ll have a short chat with the Reverend Parker, and I’ll wait for you near the church.”

She opened the door and walked out. I untied my apron, put on my own gun belt, put the Closed sign on the front window, and locked the door. I was going out the back door since the livery stable was on the other side of the alley behind my shop. I could also chew the fat with Mr. Greeley there, and buy me some extra time to think about what I was going to say to Kane and Abel Conner when I met them. Sure, I was smitten with Becca’s blue eyes, but I didn’t have the faintest clue on how to stop those two hotheads.

III

The ride to the Conner place was uneventful. We ran into one of the cowboys that Abel hired, and I told him to send the message that I wanted to see both brothers at the main house as soon as possible. After helping ’Becca with the items that she bought in town, I was sitting in a chair on the front porch with a cup of coffee when I saw Kane walk into the yard from the wheat fields in the east. I heard approaching hoofbeats from the opposite direction and turned to see Abel ride in from the stables in the western grazing yards. When he came close to the hitching posts, Abel jumped off his horse and stalked towards Kane. As they came closer, I could feel the anger build in the shrinking space between them. Before they could start using their fists, I set my cup down and stepped down from the porch.

“All right, boys. I didn’t call you down here to fight. I wanted to talk you both out of killing each other.”

Abel stopped and looked at me. “It’s too late for all that Silas.” He pointed at Kane. “I’m gonna kill this sodbuster for shooting my best horse.”

Kane balled up his own fists. “Dammit Abe, I didn’t kill your dang horse!” His face was red from both the sun and his own anger.

I looked at Abel, and said, “That sodbuster that you are talking about is your own brother, or have you forgotten that?”

“I don’t care what blood we share,” he said in a petulant tone, “Horse killers are usually hung or shot, and since the Sheriff doesn’t want to do his job, I’ll have to get justice my own way.”

“Maybe the reason why Sheriff Evans didn’t arrest Kane is that there is no proof that Kane fired that shot.”

Abel yelled, “That’s bullshit! I know that-”

’Becca cried out from the porch. “Abel Conner! You will keep a civil tongue in front of guests, or I’ll scrub it with lye soap!”

Abel wisely shut his mouth. Maybe there was some hope after all. I turned to Kane, and said, “Kane, obviously Abel thinks that you are somehow responsible for this. Look, why don’t you pay him something for his loss? Like a peace-offering?”

Kane looked at me like I was crazy. “What? Why should I have to pay for something that I didn’t do? Besides, I consider it cosmic justice, since his dumb animals are always breaking into my fields, and eating my crops. I told him I would shoot the next animal that I catch in the wheat. So-”

Abel cried out, “There! Did you hear that, Silas? He all but admitted to shooting my horse!”

“I didn’t kill your damn horse, cow-puncher!”

“Sodbuster!”

They lurched towards each other, fists raised and knuckles ready. I jumped between them just shy of too late, and they tried landing blows around me.

“Stop! Stop it, that’s enough!“I yelled as I shoved them apart. I knew right then that this was beyond a mere fight between brothers. This was rancher against the farmer. The main conflict has always been who has higher priority over the land, and in this case, blood was going it be spilled.

I looked at both of them, and said, “Fine. If you two want to shoot it out, then so be it. This is going to be a duel.”

I wasn’t surprised to see ’Becca stumble off the porch. Her face was getting a red as her hair. I held my hand out to stop her and said,”’Becca just calm down and hear me out. If you still want to talk about this later, we’ll do that.”

I returned my attention to Abel and Kane. “This is going to be done fair and legal, so I’ll be the mediator. If you two just show up in town with guns blazing, then some innocent townfolk might get hurt or killed, and the Sheriff will hang both of you. I’m going back to town, and sort out the details with the Sheriff and Judge Lloyd. This Saturday at 10 am, I want both of you to be at my shop. I’ll supply the weapons so that it will be a fair fight. In the meantime, Abe, you better ride to the Odeem’s ranch on the other side of town and see if they will let you bunk there for the rest of this week. Kane, you can stay here. I don’t want either of you to come within ten yards of each other until this Saturday, and I suggest you spend the next few days practicing your shooting. Any questions?”

Neither of the brothers said a word. They just tried to destroy each other with glaring looks of poisonous hatred. Finally, Abel turned to his horse, mounted, and rode off towards town. Kane looked at his Ma and then walked back to the barn.

’Becca stared at me as she had never seen me before, and that she didn’t like what she saw. I knew that if I started talking first, she would claw my eyes out. Seconds ticked by as we stared at each other, then she spoke in a low whisper. “Silas Mayner, please tell me you didn’t give my sons permission to kill each other. Tell me that you are not going to supply them with guns so they can have a gunfight.”

I looked directly into her big blue eyes, and said, “Do you trust me, Rebecca Conner?”

That question threw her off her temper for a second. “What do you mean?”

I said, “If you trust me, then trust me when I say that everything will be alright. Those two boys will shoot it out, and it will be all over.” I kept my tone steady and certain. If I showed any sign of uncertainty, she would surely kill me herself.

It worked. She narrowed her eyes, turned, and walked back inside her house, slamming the front door hard behind her. I knew better than to go after her. I unhitched my own horse and galloped back to town. There was a lot that I had to do to set up the shooting match that coming Saturday.

IV

During the next couple of days, I had cleared up the legal matters with the Judge and gave all the details to the Sheriff, so he can make sure the main street through town would be clear for the upcoming battle. That last issue was important since news of the gunfight spread through the town like a brush fire. More people showed up in town during that week than when the Civil War ended. The saloons stayed full every night, and of course, lots of bets were made on which brother would survive. However, there were some folks who didn’t like the expecting shootout at all. ’Becca was one of them, of course. I didn’t see any sight of her during the next few days. I could imagine that she was planning my own demise when this was over. Also, the ladies who sang at the local church didn’t hold the event in high regard either. They held a singing vigil in front of my store on Thursday, and when that didn’t change my mind, the Reverend Parker himself stepped in for an intervention.

He opened the door and walked in with careful steps. He clutched his huge family Bible to his chest as if I hired the Devil himself to get any good Christian that would dare walk in my lion’s den of evil.

“Good morning, Reverend. What can I do for you?” I said in the friendliest voice I could muster. I wondered if it would any good to remind him that he personally baptized me into the Savior’s fold when I was a wee lad.

He looked around my store, and I guess he didn’t sense any evil presence, since he marched right to the front of my counter, and dropped the Good Book on the glass counter-top so hard I was afraid it would crack.

“Silas Mayner,” he said in his carrying baritone voice, “I have come here on behalf of poor Rebecca Conner to persuade you to call off this unholy act of violence that you have orchestrated. This church cannot sit idly by and-”

I cut him off. “Reverend, I completely understand your concern, but you have known those Conner boys their whole lives. They’ve been battling each other since they could walk. This gunfight was inevitable, like Fall coming after Summer. I’m just making sure that they fight fair.”

“Fight fair? Silas, do you know how this is affecting their poor mother? She has hardly eaten a thing but bread and water, and hasn’t had a decent night of sleep because you have allowed her two sons to fight to the death! This is an abomination to God! Why-”

I cut him off again. “Those two were going to try to kill each other anyway, regardless of what I did. This is the only way to resolve this issue for good.” I wasn’t trying to be rude, but once he gets going, he can turn anything into a sermon, and I didn’t want this talk to last all day. If I didn’t cut him off quickly, he would preach until the cows come home. “Don’t you remember when they tried working as ushers at the church that Sunday?”

That Sunday was back when the Conner boys were just eleven years old, and Bill Conner was still alive. ’Becca had decided to have her sons serve the church as ushers and maybe get a little peace in their souls. Their duties were to direct people to empty pews, assist any old people if necessary, pass around the collection plates. They acted fine until they retrieved the collection plates from the back pews, and started walking up the center aisle to the pulpit. One pushed the other, the other pushed back, then they started shoving each other. The collection plates fell to the floor, and soon the boys were rolling in the tithe money, punching and kicking like crazed little demons. Bill Conner quickly stomped right at them, grabbed both by their shirt-collars, and hauled them out the front door. I was told later that those boys spent most of that next Monday on their feet, and the Reverend no longer allowed them to sit close to each other during the Sunday service.

“So you see, those boys are going to fight. And, I’m going to tell you the same thing that I told the widow Conner. You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

The Reverend bowed his head in defeat. He heaved his Bible off the counter and walked to the door. Then he turned around, determined to have the last word. “Silas, we’ll be praying for those boys, and we will pray for your soul as well. Just remember, the Good Book says that one of the lowest circles of Hell is for Sowers of Discord.”

I replied, “Actually, that saying comes from Dante’, as I recall.” The Reverend opened his mouth, then he shook his head, and walked out.

V

The sun was bright and the sky was clear on the plains that Saturday, so you couldn’t ask for a better day to have a duel. People started gathering along the street as soon as their morning choirs were done. The saloon ladies were leaning out of their windows for a bird’s eye view. Younger kids were chasing each other through the crowds of onlookers, play-shooting each other with L-shaped wooden guns. I had two Schofield pistols cleaned, loaded, and ready. I wrapped the gunbelts around the holsters and carried them outside. Sheriff Evans saw me walk out, and came to me along the boardwalk, keeping his eye on the street. He was a big man with a taste for good German beer, which showed in the large gut that hung over his belt.

“I told everyone to stay clear of the street.” He looked down at the weapons that I had in my hands. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Silas.”

“Just stay close, Sheriff, “I said, “and keep your eyes open for any helpers.” That was my biggest worry. Even though Kane and Abel Conner hated each other, they were friendly enough around town, and they each had their own group of friends. I didn’t want this shooting match to turn into a town war.

The voices in the crowds started to rise, and heads started to turn to the east, including my own. I saw Abel riding down the street with three of his cowhands trailing him. The ’hands dispersed as Abel stopped in front of my store. The sounds of an approaching wagon came from the opposite direction, and we watched Kane driving his hay wagon into town. This didn’t surprise me since Kane was never very comfortable in a saddle. ’Becca Conner was sitting next to him, and as soon as he stopped, she jumped off, and stood with the Reverend’s church group on the far side of the street. Kane set the brake on the wagon and stepped off. The two stood in front of me. They hardly looked at each other. Two men bound by blood, but their own pride and anger was going to lead to the death of one of them very soon.

I looked at both of them. “Are you two sure about this? If either of you wants to call it off, now is the time.”

Their chins lifted up, and their eyes told me everything I needed to know. Their manhood was on the line now, and to back out now would be a sure sign of cowardice.

I nodded and handed a gunbelt to each of them. “These pistols are fully loaded with six shots each.” I raised my voice a bit, so the crowd can hear me. “Kane, you will go stand in front of the jailhouse, and Abel, you go stand in front of the General store. That should be about fifty paces. Here are the rules: One, you cannot leave the street. No hiding behind buildings, wagons, horses, or people. Two, your revolvers are the only weapons allowed. If one of you is shot dead, and if you both run out of ammunition, then the fight is over. Are we clear on the rules?”

Both Abel and Kane nodded as they strapped the guns around their waists and adjusted their holsters. The Sheriff spoke up. “I would like to add something.” He looked around, and yelled, “This fight is between the Conner boys only! If anyone else fires a shot, I will personally gun them down!”

He stepped back on the boardwalk and said, “Gents, the street is yours.”

I pulled out a small derringer from my pocket. “Boys, take your places, and when you hear my shot, that is your signal to start fighting. Get going.”

They walked away from each other. The crowds watched in silence as they stopped where they were told and turned to face each other. Their hands already hovering above their guns.

I backed away from the street, raised the derringer above my head, and pulled the trigger. Both Kane and Abel drew their guns at lightning speed and started shooting. Yells and cheers came from both sides of the street:

“Get ’em, Abe!”

“Take ’em down Kane!”

My head turned left and right as I watched the two brothers duck and dodge to avoid the bullets coming at them while trying to fire shots at each other. The smell of burnt gunpowder was in the air, and the echoes of the battle could probably be heard all the way to Louisiana.

Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The sound of the last shot fired off, and both Kane and Abel were clicking their triggers on empty cylinders. They were both standing, and neither one had any sign of injury. The crowd quieted down, and most had the same expression of shock on their faces as the two gunfighters. I walked back into the street and waved both of them to me. They closed the distance, still holding their pistols. They were both giving their guns a sad look like the guns somehow betrayed them.

As they passed in front of the onlookers, one old-timer who was leaning against a hitching post yelled out, “Hell, those boys couldn’t hit a barn from ten feet away!”

This statement brought shouts of laughter from the rest of the people, and now that the fight was over, they began to drift apart to continue their day.

Kane and Abel stood in front of me. Their looks of pride were gone, replaced with embarrassment as they heard the laughter from the rest of the town. I could’ve told them that most of that laughter was from relief that no one died, but why spare them any comfort? “Well, “I said, “You two tried to kill each other, and you couldn’t even do that. Do either of you know what that means?”

“It’s a miracle!” That shout came from behind the boys, and it made me jump. It was the Reverend Parker. He stood among us, gearing up his sermon voice. “It was a God-given miracle! Praise Jesus! God Himself listened to our prayers, and diverted the bullets to spare you, two hooligans!” He turned back to the Ladies’ Choir. “Sisters! Let’s sing praises to God for this day! Whenever Satan tries to spread darkness, God will surely turn on the light! One-two-”

The choir started singing ‘How Great Thou Art’ as they marched in unison back to the church. I turned back to the boys and said, “Miracle or not, I hope you remember this day the next time you two want to spill each other’s blood.” Of course, they wouldn’t forget it, since they were reminded of it every time they started arguing. They never lived this down, and that went a long way to keeping the peace between them.

Abel slowly holstered his gun and turned to face Kane. He said in a low voice,” Kane, maybe I was wrong about you killing my horse.”

Kane put away his own pistol. “Abe, we never got along well, but I never hated you enough to kill a prized horse. It was a great one, and I knew how hard you worked to care for it.”

Abel nodded. “That’s right, you always came to me yourself if you had a beef with me. I’m-I’m sorry for accusing you.” He stuck out his hand, and Kane shook it. I knew then that things were going to be all right between them.

“Hey,” Abel said, “let’s go get a beer at the saloon.” He looked at me. “You can come with us, Silas. We can drink, and try to forget all this-”

“Oh no, you don’t!” ’Becca yelled as she walked towards her sons. “There will be no forgetting this, and you two are not going to get drunk and start another fight!” She was getting angrier as she spoke, and she wasn’t done with her rant. “I’ve just about had it with both of you! If you two weren’t my sons, I would’ve run you off my land years ago! All of your petty fighting and this shootout has aged me twenty years, and you’ve neglected your work at the ranch long enough, so don’t think you’re going off to some saloon! I want you both home right now! Abel, you’ve got cattle to look after, and Kane, I want the farm animals fed, the stalls in the barn cleaned, and-and there are other jobs to do! And I don’t want to see either of you back at the house until well past dark! Kane, you wait for me in the wagon. I’ve still got business to discuss with Silas. Get moving!” They started walking, and she helped them along with a swift kick in their rumps.

She turned back to me, and said, “Silas, I would like to speak to you alone.”

“There is one more thing I need, “I said as I stopped the boys. “If you two want to keep those guns, they are fifty dollars apiece. Otherwise, I would like them back.”

They unbuckled their guns and handed them to me. I led ’Becca to the front door of my shop, and held it open for her. I followed her inside, closed the door, placed the belts on the counter, and turned to face the storm. ”’ Becca, I know this was difficult, but believe me when I-”

I never finished, since she grabbed the lapels on my vest, pulled me down, and planted her lips on mine. The kiss was quick, but I enjoyed every second.

She pulled back, and there was a gleam of happiness in her blue eyes that about melted my heart. “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you for my sons’ lives, Silas.” She reached up and straightened my vest. She looked back up at me and asked, “Now tell me what you did. You did something to those guns, didn’t you?”

I was going to stick with the Reverend’s miracle story, but after that kiss, I knew that I was hopelessly in love with Becca, so I told her the truth. “Yes, well, it’s kind of hard to shoot anything if your gun is loaded with wax bullets.”

“Wax bullets?” she asked, “What are those?”

I explained. “I learned how to make them when I was working for Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show a few years ago, and he used wax bullets to stage fake gunfights. When the bullet is fired, the wax evaporates as it goes out the barrel, so there’s a good bang, but no shot. I filled those guns with fake bullets, and your sons could shoot each other without hitting anyone, especially themselves. That was how I got the Judge and the Sheriff to go along with this. We thought it would be better for those two boys to make fools of themselves than to have one of them live with the regret of killing their own brother.”

’Becca said, “Silas, you’re a good man, and I won’t forget this.” I knew what was coming next, so we both met halfway for the next kiss, which was a bit longer and much sweeter.

I finally came up for air. She walked to the door and turned back. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow for Sunday supper? I’ll cook a big steak just for you.”

With a smile, I asked, “Would I get some of your tasty biscuits for dessert?”

’Becca’s eyes sparkled in the light when she said, “You may get something better than biscuits for dessert.” And with that, she opened the door and walked out. My heart thudded in my chest at her last words, but I couldn’t have been happier. I decided to keep the store closed. I needed to get a good bath, a shave, and a haircut. I wanted to look my best for the supper tomorrow, and for the sweet dessert that would follow.

"Hmm, I'd like a Happy Meal. What do you want to order?"

"Try the Number 10. You can get either kethup or barbeque sauce."

"Sorry, I can't afford Red Lobster."

She thought that dying would be melodramatic and painful, but when it happened, there was very little drama, and the pain that she felt quickly faded like a daydream. It certainly wasn’t as bad as childbirth, and she lived through that.

She did remember feeling a massive pop in her chest, then she couldn’t take another breath. The dizziness hit her brain, and her last coherent memory was sliding out of her office chair and feeling embarrassed as her dress slid up her legs as she hit the floor.

After that, it was all a blur. Vague images came and went. She could feel being lifted onto a stretcher, then the bumps and knocks of being loaded in an ambulance. Voices faded in and out. She heard something about her blood pressure, pulse rate, and other medical terms she couldn’t grasp. It must have been her heart because she felt a blast of jolts has the doctor in the hospital hit her chest with those paddles that Hugh Laurie used on House. Then, everything faded into darkness.

When her vision cleared, she saw that she was in a hospital room, and she could see her own body. The doctor put the paddles away, checked her heart with his stethoscope, and shook his head at the nurse beside him. He said that the time of death was ten thirty-five, and he backed away as the nurse covered her face with a blanket. She watched all of this with bemused interest because now, she felt just fine. She moved closer to the blanket-covered body that she just occupied a few minutes ago, and she wasn’t surprised to see her hand sink through the blanket, as if she wasn’t part of the physical world anymore.

A voice spoke from behind her. “Hello, Tessie.”

She whirled around and saw a handsome young man wearing a flowing white robe. In fact, his entire body radiated a faint glow of the purest light.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your guardian angel.” He held out his hand. “Please come with me, and know true happiness.”

She glanced at her body and turned back. “If you were really a guardian angel, you could’ve prevented this and saved my life.”

The angel showed no offense. “Even angels cannot stop Death when it comes at the appointed time.” He still had his hand out for her. “Please come with me now, and forget all the things of this temporary world.”

She wanted to grasp that glowing hand, but she looked back at the cooling body on the hospital bed. “Can I at least stay here long enough to see my funeral? My family and friends will be devastated when they hear about my death. I want my presence to be there for their comfort.”

“Tessie, they wouldn’t know that you were there. You are a spirit now and have no place or connection here. And funerals are meant for the living, not the dead. You should never attend your own funeral. I’ve seen it before, and it never ends well. Please, just take my hand, and you will see wonders that no living creature has ever seen.”

Tessie thought about this, but her mind went back to her husband Bill, and their daughter Emily. Then there was her sister Melissa, and her co-workers at the office. She still wanted to see them, and be with them as they grieved their loss as they said their goodbyes.

“Thanks, but I still want to see it, and be with my family one last time.”

The angel didn’t show any sign of anger or impatience. He lowered his hand and said, "Very well, you can stay long enough for your funeral, but I shall return for you once it is over.”

He faded out into nothingness, and she was alone.

She spent the next few days drifting through a world that she had no part in. She could see and hear, but she felt nothing. Not the warming rays of the sun, or the cool night breeze. She enjoyed the sunrise and sunset, but she didn’t get tired or sleepy. She moved among people and was pretty disturbed that they walked right through her. But she remembered what the angel said. She had no place here, so when the day of her funeral arrived, it came with mild relief.

She was in the viewing room at the Forest Park Funeral Home. She had set up her own burial plan there because she was impressed with the service they provided when her own dear mother passed on. She looked on her own corpse that was placed in a fine ivory-colored coffin with a pink silk-lined interior. It was all done according to her requests when she set up her plan. However, she thought the mortician went a bit overboard with the painted blush on her dead cheeks.

She watched as her family walked inside and sat down in the pews that faced the podium as gentle hymns played on the speakers. When everyone was seated, the music stopped, and Reverend James began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to pay respects to the passing of Theresa Nettle. Theresa passed away at the age of forty-eight, and she is survived by her husband, her daughter, and her sister. I know that there are also many of her friends are here, and we thank you for taking the time to show your support for her family. Now, I will step aside, and let Mr. Nettle say a few words.”

Her husband Bill, who proposed to her just after their high school graduation, stood up and took the Reverend’s place behind the podium. Tessie wanted to reach out to him but wondered why he wasn’t wearing his black suit. She then decided not to be so judgmental. After all, she was the one who laid out his suits for him when she was alive.

Bill began to speak. “Hello folks. Thank you all for coming. I know that I was shocked when I heard the news about Tessie. And now, I just have to say that after nearly thirty years of being married to her, I can now say that I’m glad she’s dead.”

The only gasp in the room came from Tessie, and no one could hear it.

Bill continued. “For one thing, she would never shut up. All-day long, every day, she was always talking my ears off. Always yapping about her day, what needed to be done around the house, the people she dealt with at her job. Just non-stop. I remember years ago when my late Uncle Bobby showed up for dinner. Of course, no one to get a word in when Tessie was around. So, right in the middle of dinner, my uncle turned to me, and asked in a loud voice, ‘Will this woman ever shut up?’ That was the only time there was silence in our house for a whole hour.”

He turned to look at the coffin that held his wife’s bones. “Tess, so long and good luck in the afterlife, but please let God say a word or two before you start.”

The laughter and nods from the people tore through Tessie’s soul. She screamed and ranted. She yelled out every fault and shortcoming she knew about her widowed husband and even added a few nasty curses that she was taught never to use. But all that effort was for naught, and when her daughter stood up to take her father’s place, Tess knew that her daughter would air her grief, and tell her father what to do with himself.

Emily raised her head. “I know that Mom tried to be the best parent that she could, and she was a very caring mother, but my biggest problem with her is that she always thought of me as a child.”

She held up a large shopping bag. “Do you see this? This is a bag full of Barbie dolls that she has given me for the past eight years, and I stopped playing with dolls since I was twelve. And when I brought my boyfriend over for dinner a few weeks ago, she asked, ‘Who’s your little friend?’.”

With that she moved to the side of the coffin, and placed the bag inside. She was not behind the microphone that was placed on the podium, but Tess could still hear Emily’s words.

“Mom, I’m a grown woman now, and I wished you had treated me like one. Since you like dolls so much, you can take these with you.” With that said, she turned and sat back down at her father’s side.

Tessie couldn’t speak any more words as one by one, each of her friends got up just to say what they didn’t like about her, and that they were glad that she was gone. Then, her sister stood up and walked to the podium with tears in her eyes. Yes, Tessie thought, sweet Melissa would mourn her loss, and bid her dead sister a fond goodbye.

Melissa said, "I’m crying now because I don’t have to live in shame anymore. Bill and I have been having an affair for a couple of years now, and since Tessie is gone, we can now openly show our love. Also, my one regret with Tessie’s death is that she still owed me forty dollars.” Emily said that she would cover that debt, and Melissa thanked her as she sat back down.

Tessie could feel the warm light as her angel appeared at her side.

“Have you heard enough?”

Tess cried out that she was ready. If her eyes could form tears, they would be pouring down her face. She took the angel’s hand and they both glided out of the viewing room. As they moved toward a bright portal, she asked, "Did any of them love me?”

The angel just gave a small smile. “I’m sure they did, but love isn’t constant approval. And like I said earlier, funerals are for the living. Let’s leave the mortals with your mortal shell and step into eternity.”

They walked through the portal and were gone.

The eleven jurors gave their guilty verdict all around the long table and they all turned to juror number twelve. His name was Thomas Perry, and it looked like he was asleep. He leaned back in his chair, his hands were laced behind his head, and his eyes were closed.

Harvey Wilson, the jury foreman raised his voice. “Thomas, can we have your verdict?”

Thomas opened his eyes, then pulled himself upright. He gave a small yawn, and said, "Certainly. I render the verdict of Not Guilty.”

Several of his fellow jurors gasped at his answer. Harvey cleared his throat and said, "I don’t think we heard you correctly. Could you please repeat your verdict?”

Thomas leaned forward. “I said that my verdict is Not Guilty.”

The other jurors turned to each other with looks that varied from shock to disbelief to downright fear. They all turned their faces to Harvey, who stated, "Very well, Thomas. If that is your verdict, then so be it. However, can you at least try to give us a reason for your decision?”

Thomas shifted his gaze to each of his fellow jurors. There were six women and six men. Three of the jurors were African-American and two were Hispanic. All were between twenty-five to forty years old. And most importantly, none of the jurors, including himself, had any children.

“Sure, I can do that. But, before I do, I want to know from the rest of you is why you think he is guilty.”

The person in question was the defendant, Dennis Mayo, who was charged with the murder of ten-year-old Michael Flynn. Joe Stamper spoke up.

“His own past is against him. He’s an ex-con and a registered sex offender.”

Another juror, Lisa Donner, added in. “I think he’s guilty because of the vicinity of the crime. The school is not very far from his own house. Also, he had no established alibi between the time the poor boy went missing, and when they found his body.”

Harvey weighed in. “And, we cannot ignore that the boy’s shirt was found in the guy’s basement when the police searched it. If that doesn’t prove it, then, what else is there?”

When no one chimed in, Thomas knew that those three were the main ones he would have to argue with. The rest of the jurors did enter a guilty verdict, but they could be convinced to change their decision.

Thomas took a small drink from his water glass and began. He turned to Joe Stamper.

“First Mr. Stamper, you should be aware that a person’s past record has no bearing on the present case unless there is a direct relation to his previous crimes. True, Dennis Mayo was convicted of indecent exposure and sexual harassment. He was sentenced to eight years, and went through all the programs and treatment, and got parole after four years. Since then, he has been walking the straight and narrow all this time. Also, there is no connection between Michael Flynn and the young girls that Mr. Mayo harassed. So, the fact that he is a registered sex offender has no bearing here.”

He turned to Ms. Donner. “You said that the school where Michael Flynn attended was not very far from Mr. Mayo’s residence. The distance is about eight miles as the crow flies, however, according to his statement during his interrogation, Mr. Mayo never went close to that school, or any other school in town, due to his reputation. Of course, you could think that he was lying. Criminals often do that, but consider how he’s been living for the past two years. According to the testimony from his own parole officer, Mr. Mayo has been working from home since he has been on parole. He makes a living writing business letters and email templates on the internet. Since he works from home, he hardly ever leaves his house, except to go to the supermarket, and to his bank. Both are only down the street and two blocks over from his residence. He has a driver’s license, but he doesn’t have a car. He uses his ten-speed bicycle, and he only makes his trips to the store and the bank about once a week. He has established a set pattern for his life, which helps his parole officer keep tabs on him. The police report theorized that Mr. Mayo lured young Mike Flynn to his house, killed him, and dumped his body at the town landfill. So, how could Mr. Mayo have done all of this without a car?”

“He could’ve stolen a car. A lot of cons learn to do that in prison.” This came from Sebastián Cruz.

Thomas replied. “OK, if we use Mr. Stamper’s logic, then according to Mr. Mayo’s record, he has no history of stealing. Also, it says that Mr. Mayo wore an ankle bracelet before he was arrested. That means he would have to steal a car within the town limits. That would make him more noticeable around town even before the boy went missing. So, he went from being an internet hermit to grand theft auto, and then to murder.” Thomas shook his head. “This whole case is as flimsy as a house of cards.”

Harvey nodded. “What you’re saying might work, but we still cannot forget about the shirt that was found at Mr. Mayo’s house. That shirt matched what the boy’s parents said that he was wearing when he disappeared, and there were bullet holes that lined up with the bullet wounds on the boy’s body. “

“Right, the ‘smoking gun’ that the prosecutor referred to during the trial, which leads me to another question. How can a registered sex offender with a criminal record get his hands on a gun?”

Another juror named Oscar McNeill said, "C'mon. Anybody can get a gun these days. This is Texas. “

Thomas said, "Yes, anybody can get a gun. However, Mr. Mayo has a major flag on his record, so not even the shadiest gun store owner would go near him. Also, remember that he couldn’t leave town, and there are no gun stores within town limits. And, since he is well known in town as an ex-con who lives alone, would there be anyone crazy enough to sell a gun to him? These questions should raise some doubts, but let’s assume that he did get a gun. Now, let's go back to the boy’s shirt. According to the police report, the boy was found naked and wrapped up in a ten by ten foot of blue tarp. The body was cleaned up so no other prints or DNA could be found on the body. So, if Mr. Mayo killed this boy, and took great care to remove any stains from the body and hide the boy’s clothes, why would he leave a shirt behind?”

Thomas opened the folder in front of him. “Another thing to consider. When the police showed up with a search warrant, they went directly to the basement door at Mr. Mayo’s house. They didn’t search in any other room. According to a statement from one of the detectives there, they stated that the door was stuck closed, and it took two officers to break it open. During Mr. Mayo’s interrogation, he said that the basement was, in fact, a root cellar with no plumbing and no electrical line. This was confirmed with the police officers stated that they had to use flashlights as they went down the stairs. Mr. Mayo stated that he never went down there because he has nyctophobia, an intense fear of dark places. So, how does this add up? How can a man clean up a dead body in a dark basement that he never goes into with no running water or lights? And, if he was able to do all that, why would he leave the boy’s shirt behind?”

At his point, even Harvey lowered his gaze while he thought this out. Thomas watched the others as they processed these questions. Finally, Harvey looked up and said, "You made some great points Tom. I never considered all the facts that you mentioned, and now that you did, there are some real doubts about this. I’m changing my verdict to Not Guilty. Does anyone else want to change their verdict?”

Slowly, Al Stamper raised his hand and did Sebastián Cruz, Oscar McNeill, and three other jurors. Lisa Donner did not raise her hand. She gave Thomas a long look, and said, "I can’t tell if you’re a juror, or if you’re working for the defense, but nothing that you said will change my mind. This man is guilty, and since the rest of you are going to let him go, then God help you if this guy kills again, but I won’t have this boy’s blood on my hands.”

Harvey said, "Your thoughts on this case are still valid, however, we have agreed that Mr. Mayo is Not Guilty. I’ll inform the bailiff.” With that, he walked out of the room.

OK, here’s a joke:

One day, there were three preachers out playing golf. During the game, one preacher said that he had something to confess, and he wanted to share his problem with the other two preachers for help and support, if they agreed to keep the problem to themselves.

The other two preachers agreed to offer guidence, and they said that they had problems that they needed help with as well. So, the first preacher said,“I have a drinking problem. I drink in the morning, during lunch, and in the evening. It’s so bad that I even keep a bottle behind my pulpit.”

The other two preachers sympathized with him, and recommended him to a nearby AA councelor. So, the second preacher said,“Well, my problem is women. I love women. I think about women. I dream about women. And I’ve even propositioned some of the women in my congregation.”

The first and the third preacher were understanding, and offer their assistance to help him avoid temptation. So, it was time for the third preacher to speak, but he tried to back down, and said that he shouldn’t share his problem with them.

The first preacher said,“Listen brother, there is nothing you can say that will shock us. We’ve bared our souls to you, so please let us help you with your problem.”

So, the third preacher said,“Fine, I’ll tell you my problem...I’m a gossip.”

We all sat at the dinner table together but in total silence. There was just the clicks and scrapes of utensils on plates, and the occasional request to pass the salt and pepper. Since it was my last meal, Mama went all out on the vittles. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh-buttered corn on the cob, and country biscuits. She and I drank from tall glasses of iced tea, while Pa had a can a beer that he kept replacing about every five minutes.

My plate was piled high, but I was chewing and swallowing, not enjoying my meal. I kept biting into chicken flesh and scooping mashed potatoes down my throat. It was my last meal, and I should be savoring it, enjoying every morsel. But no, there was just silence and eating.

It just wasn’t fair! We should’ve been chattering away at each other, or at least, Pa and Mama should’ve been talking, with me listening. They should be giving me advice, tips, or opinions about my upcoming journey. When my brother Frank left to fight Hitler, we had the biggest celebration our family ever hosted. Half the town showed up and everyone brought a dish. There were games, laughter, and even Pastor Landon gave a good sermon about Bravery and Duty. Yet, Frank was brought back a year later in a pine box draped with Old Glory, so there’s that.

But I wasn’t going to war, just college. My graduation from high school was celebrated, but when I received my acceptance letter, Ma just went back to her choirs, and Pa just stomped out of the house.

That was a month ago, and they’ve been quiet ever since.

I finished my plate and excused myself from the table. Mom gave a small smile when I offered to clean up the dinner dishes. Dad just grunted and shook his empty beer can. I got a cold can from the fridge sat it in front of him, and took the empty can. I crushed it and tossed it in the trash. I was about to turn into the living room to catch the last part of Fibber McGee on the radio, but I went through the back door instead. I wanted to hear the sounds of the night instead of the silence of unspoken thoughts.

To my right were the barn, tool shed, and the outhouse. We haven’t had any plumbing put in, and Pa kept going on about how it wasn’t necessary. On my left was a vast field of potatoes. That’s what we were, spud farmers. It was the end of August, and harvest time was fast approaching, but this would be the first harvest without me picking the spuds with our two farmhands Pete and Bob.

Was that the reason why Pa was so upset about this? Did he expect me to stay on the farm my entire life? Then why did he insist I work hard in school? I wanted to march back inside, slam my fists on the table, and demand him to say what he wanted from me.

But I couldn’t do that. I just sat on the steps of the back porch and tried to look past the fields where I spent most of my life, picking spuds and hauling them to market. There was a whole unknown world out there, and I was going to walk into it on my own in the morning. A new day that should begin the first day of my own life. However, if that were true, why did it feel like the end?

"In my opinion, there’s nothing better than cheddar,” Marko said. The way he emphasized the word opinion meant that his opinion was law, and the invisible crown that sat between his ears settled the whole issue.

“Swiss is pretty good too,” Jerry mentioned with his whiskers twitching in the air.

“I like mozzarella,” Morty piped in. He squatted on all fours behind Ricky, who was busy scraping away at the wood paneling with his front teeth. His gums were getting sore, but he could smell the fresh cheese that was on the other side of the wall. Let the others debate on what is the best. Ricky was not picky. Cheddar, Swiss, mozzarella, gouda, even crumbly parmesan was all good. Ricky didn’t want to argue about cheese, he wanted to eat some.

He had built up a good pile of wood chips, and he stopped to clear the chips away with his front paws. Marko bulled him out of the way to sniff the air and inspect Ricky’s progress.

“Humph, you’re barely halfway there,” he said, “When I was your age, I could bust through a wall in just ten minutes.”

Ricky wanted to sink his teeth into Marko’s old rat ass, but he decided to bite with wit. “Was that before or after you busted your chops on that mesh wire?“ he asked in a wondering voice.

Marko turned back to him with a snarl. “Watch your diseased mouth, squeaker. I’ve got enough teeth to tear you in half.”

Ricky was about to rise to his hind legs for battle when Morty pushed his way into the hole. “Let me try it for a while!” he cried out with the excitement of a young pup. Marko narrowed his black eyes at Ricky and moved aside to give Morty some wiggle room.

Morty went after the hole with lots of energy, but no experience. His teeth were not fully developed, but he had to take the place of his brother Monty, who tried to chew through a thick black cable that the giants use for power. Monty had taken one more bite than he should and was cooked medium-rare in about three seconds.

Ricky let him gnaw for a minute, then pushed him aside. “Kid, you’re going nowhere fast. Just watch.” Ricky made a couple of slow bites. “There, you see? Sink the teeth in, then drag down. Sink, then drag down.”

“OK,” Morty said as he moved back in position. He copied Ricky’s movements.

“How’s that?” Monty asked with his mouth full while he kept his pace.

Ricky nodded with approval. “Good job, Mort. Just a little further now…”

Morty sank his teeth in, then stumbled when a large chunk busted loose, revealing a small hole filled with darkness. A draft breezed through, and they could all smell it. That smooth, creamy tasty texture that they came here for. That smell was cheese blocks and wheels that were aging in the cool room of a small cheese factory.

Morty enlarged the hole and dived right in. “Glorious feast!” was all he said as he squirmed his way inside.

Ricky squealed. “Morty, wait for the rest of us!” He shoved his head in the hole, but it was just large enough for Morty’s small frame. Ricky grunted in frustration as he pulled his head back, and began gnawing more wood chunks from the hole.

“Hurry up,” Marko whispered.

Ricky ignored him as he kept working.

“You need to hurry,“ Jerry said as he moved closer. This caused Ricky to pause.

“Why?”

Jerry glanced into the darkness, and Ricky followed his gaze. Shadows moved around the Giants’ machines that sat on the flat lot. Then Ricky saw it. The duel sets of eyes that reflected the light from the tower lamps that were set around the lot. Cats.

"Stand perfectly still, “Ricky said, “maybe they’ll just move on.”

One of the shadows moved again, and Marko took off squeaking one word.

"RUN!"

Two cats leaped from the darkness. Ricky tried to keep up with Marko's frantic pace, but he knew that the cats were faster. Marko suddenly veered left, and Ricky decided to turn right. A large shadow covered him as the lead cat took a flying leap.

Ricky thought That’s it, I’m dead. Goodbye, Ma. Goodbye to my brothers and sisters. Bill, Lacy, Harry, Con, Merle, Steve…

But the cat landed on Marko. As Ricky scampered for cover under one of the rolling machines, he could hear Marko's squeals of terror and pain as the cats began to play with him. He stopped in the shadow of one machine's massive wheels.

Jerry took a jump and latched onto the metal beam that formed the side of the machine's body. Ricky wanted to follow, but he crouched behind the big rubber wheel to witness Marko's fate.

It wasn't pretty. The cats were batting poor Marko back and forth like a hairy ball. Marko made several efforts to evade the cat's paws and make his escape, but each cat would swipe him back into their deadly game. Then one cat clamped his teeth into Marko's flesh and took off into the night. The other one turned to follow, then its eyes swung back, and locked onto Ricky's gaze.

Ricky pulled himself back into the shadows and began his climb into the inner workings of the machine's heart. His paws became slick with old foul-smelling grease and his nose was clogged with the stench of the black gunk that the Giants fed into the machine.

He heard the cat crawl under the machine. He kept perfectly still. The cat sniffed around and decided not to investigate further. It took off to find its friend and Ricky guessed it didn't like the smell of black gunk either. He began working his way from the machine's heart and along its underbelly. He could hear scraping from above him and he traced the sound to a rusted hole.

"Jerry?"

Jerry stuck his head out of the hole. "Dang Rick, I thought those cats got you for good."

"No, they got Marko instead." Ricky never did like Marko, but he never wished that Marko would become cat food.

They had a moment of silence for Marko's demise, then Jerry's whiskers twitched. "Well, I found some food up here. Climb up here and let's rest for a spell."

He pulled his head back, and Ricky climbed up through the hole. They were in the carriage space that the Giants sat in to operate the machine. When he pulled himself up, Ricky began to rub his fur on the coarse fibers that lined the floor of the carriage.

"Good idea," Jerry said, "you stink like a dead skunk." He moved into the darkness, and when Ricky was a clean as he could get, he followed his nose to see what Jerry had found.

One thing that Ricky knew about the Giants was that they were extremely sloppy. They were always dropping food wherever they went and just leaving it behind while they pounded their way over the world. In this case, a Giant left a large square-shaped morsel made from baked flour that had a layer of peanut goop in between.

Jerry had already munched away one corner, so Ricky started working on the opposite end. The baked flour was stale, and the peanut goop was pretty salty. Ricky wished there was water somewhere so he could wash some of his meal down.

Jerry paused his own munching to ask, "Do you know what happened to Morty?"

Ricky considered this question as he took a few more bites. "He's inside with all that cheese. I just hope he has the good sense to keep inside until it's safe to come out." He licked his front paws, and that was a mistake. They were still dirty with machine grease.

Jerry licked his teeth clean. "Sure, he's stuffing himself with all that cheese as we speak. Lucky bastard." He pushed what was left to Ricky. "I've stuffed myself," he said just before he passed a load of gas.

Ricky wrinkled his nose. "For shame, Jer! We're in an enclosed space here."

"Sorry. I get gassy after I eat."

Ricky turned around and headed back to the hole. "I'm going after Morty. Are you coming, or are you going to continue to stink up this carriage?"

They crawled their way out from under the carriage, climbed along machine's metal frame and scampered down onto the flat lot. Ricky sniffed the air for cat odor, but the cats were long gone.

"OK," he said, "on the count of three, we haul tail straight to that hole in the wall. We find Morty. We feast on some cheese, then we get out. It'll be dawn soon, and I don't want to be here when the Giants show up."

"Right," Jerry said while he hunched his rear up for the sprint.

Ricky said, "Ready? One, two..."

Jerry took off and ran as fast as he could.

"Blast it!"Ricky squealed started running to keep up. Nothing leaped out for them, and Jerry was halfway into the wall hole when Ricky caught up to him.

"I said on three!" Ricky cried out as he shoved his way inside.

"Sorry," Jerry said," I panicked. I didn't want to wide up like Marko."

Ricky let it go. His thoughts were on Morty. It was dark inside the huge chamber, yet it was quiet. Too quiet.

He used his nose to pick up Morty's scent and soon found the trail. It led straight along the wall, which meant that Morty didn't venture too far out. He kept sniffing along when Jerry began calling out, "Morty? Where are you, kid? Did you leave any for us?"

Ricky stopped when he saw Monty's backside. It looked like he was slumped over a wooden ledge. His tail sat very still on the floor. It didn't twitch at all.

"Oh no," Ricky moaned as he lifted his head over the ledge, and saw the thick steel bar that pinned poor Morty across his crushed neck.

Ricky pulled back and saw Jerry watching him. "It was a trap," Ricky said, "Morty fell for the bait inside a rat trap."

Jerry lowered his head. " I guess he wasn't the lucky one after all. I knew Morty was too young to come with us." He wiped his face and faced Ricky with tears in his eyes. "Let's get out of here. I'm not so hungry anymore."

"Ricky answered. He led the way out of the hole and they disappeared into the early morning. Four of them came looking for a good feast, and two remained. Ricky didn't know much about luck, but he knew that in a rat's world, it took luck just to survive each and every day.

“You what? You lost our baby girl?”

Her eyes went wild with fury as the blood rushed to her cheeks.  She looked completely insane, and even kind of sexy. 

    Ted couldn’t  believe that last thought went through his mind, but with the hell that they have gone through, he was sure God would forgive him for having a lustful thought about his own wife.  However, now was not the time for romance.  His darling wife was about to go nuclear. 

He looked at the space where the stroller was a few seconds ago.  “Honey, I didn’t lose her.  Her stroller is gone too.  Maybe-”

Her hand went to her mouth as her worse nightmare scenario finished his sentence. 

“Oh my God.  She was kidnapped!  We got to do something!”  She smacked him on the arm.  “Don’t just stand there!  Call the police!  I’ll-I’ll get security!”

She turned to run, but he pulled her back and said, “Honey, relax.  She couldn’t have gone far.”  He tried to replay what might have happened in the past five minutes.   

When they had entered the department store, she was pushing the stroller with Tabby lying quietly in the cushioned seat.  Anna made a beeline for the Women’s section, and soon she had pulled three blouses from the racks.  She handed him her purse as she walked to the dressing rooms.  While she was gone, he decided to pass the time by playing Zombie Blast on his phone.  He was right by the stroller, but he was engrossed with blasting at undead monsters.   During the game, he did remember two voices nearby.  Another woman…and a girl. 

“Anna, I think someone did take her.  Let’s check the rest of the store.” 

Anna nodded, and started combing through the maze-like walk spaces between the circular clothes racks.  Ted went the opposite direction, hoping he would find Tabby before Anna did.  If he found her first, he could try to control the situation.  If Anna found Tabby, then God help the person who she thought was responsible. 

Ted could hear Anna calling Tabby’s name.  He shook his head as he fought back the regret that always tried to resurface in him.  The regret that he had made a big mistake in trying to keep Anna’s hope and sanity alive. 

Cassie knew there were crazy people in the world. Hell, she talked to more than a few of them at the Call Center where she worked, but she never thought she would meet one, and not while she was shopping with her eight year old daughter.

She went through the dresses in the Little Miss section, and found one that not only would look adorable on Kaitlyn, but it was also in her size. Why did the store never have the sizes that she needed was beyond her. She turned to show the dress and saw that Kaitlyn was holding a baby doll wrapped in a solf white blanket.

Kaitlyn was smiling down at the doll, and making cooing noises at the chubby plastic face. She turned her eyes up her mother. "Look at the cute baby I found Mommy! Can I keep her?"

Cassie rolled her eyes. She had purposely steered Kaitlyn away from the Toy Section for this very reason. Whenever they were there, things would just appear in Kaitlyn's hands, and Cassie had to either add the item to her credit card, or listen to Kat's wails of sadness as she was denied a toy that she would play with for a week, then forget it forever in her already stuffed toybox.

But, they were never close to the Toy Section, so where did it come from?

"Kat, where did you get that doll?"

"She was just sitting in a stroller all by herself."

Cassie saw the stroller, and couldn't believe the logic in a kid's mind. She bent closer to her daughter, and said,"Kaitlyn, that doll belongs to somebody else. You can't just take something that's not yours."

Kaitlyn gave an impatient sigh at her mother. "Mommy, there's no price tag on the baby or the stroller, so it's not stealing. The stroller was just sitting by some man, and men don't play with baby dolls, so it couldn't have been his. Oh, I think she just smiled!"

Cassie was about to give an adult rebuttal to Kaitlyn's reasoning when the crazy blonde woman appeared from behind a display shelf. She saw the doll that Kaitlyn held, and screamed.

"TABBY! THANK GOD!"

The blonde woman barreled down on Kaitlyn. Cassie moved to block her path, but the woman shoved her aside and snatched the doll out of Kaitlyn's arms.

"Give me my baby you little brat!"

Kaitlyn flinched away from the haggard hateful look in the woman's face, and fell backwards on the thin store carpet. She began to cry.

Cassie clenched her fists. "Hey, what is your problem?" She wanted to rake her nails across Blondie's face, but her own child was hurt. She knelt down and put her arms around Kaitlyn. When she could see that Kat was not injured, Cassie helped her to her feet.

Her own voice rose with her anger. "Are you crazy? That's just a doll! You can't attack my girl just because-"

The blonde jerked her face to Cassie, and Cassie knew that she was looking at a bona fide crazy person. The woman's eyes were filled with an insane intensity that made Cassie want to scoop up Kaitlyn and run for the hills.

The blonde woman sneered at her. "How dare you let your little yard ape steal a defenseless baby like that? What kind of sicko are you that-"

"Anna, just stop!"

They both turned to the tall man that came toward them. The crazed look in the blonde woman's as softened as she moved to the man with the doll cradled in her arms.

"Teddy! Oh, thank god! Look, I found her! She's all right now!" She showed the doll with pride. Cassie watched as the man called Ted saw her, and looked down at Kaitlyn, who was still crying her eyes out.

The woman named Anna shot daggers from her eyes as she looked at Kaitlyn. "That little tramp tried to take her. I want you to call the police. They may be human trafficers. They need to be arrested and-"

Ted turned her away from the whole scene. "All right, babe. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything." He dug in his pockets, and pulled out a set of keys. "Here, just put Tabby back in her stroller, and take her back to the car. I'll be along a few minutes."

Cassie searched through her purse and found some tissues. She bent down to wipe Kaitlyn's face, but she kept her eyes on the bizarre couple. Anna placed a small kiss on the doll's round forehead, and gently laid it back in the stroller. She took the keys from Ted and pushed the stroller through the racks and out of sight.

Kaitlyn had stopped crying, but sniffled while she kept her head down. Ted moved toward her, but Cassie kept her arm around her and said,"Mister, if that's your wife, then God help you. She's a complete basketcase."

Ted gave a small sigh as he nodded. He said,"Ma'am, I am so sorry about what happened. May I talk to your girl?"

Cassie wanted to leave, but this Ted did show up in time to keep Anna the Crazy Lady at bay, so she nodded as Ted knelt in front of Kaitlyn.

"Hey there, sweetheart. I'm sorry my wife was so mean to you."

Kaitlyn lifted her eyes and and said in a small voice,"I'm sorry I took her baby doll. I didn't know it was hers."

Ted smiled as he brushed a line of hair from Kaitlyn's forehead. Then he said,"Hey, how would you like a double-scoop ice-cream? Would that cheer you up? I need to have a big people talk with your Mom." He moved his eyes up at Cassie when he said the last sentence.

Cassie got the gist of what he was saying. "There's an ice-cream parlor on the corner."

She took Kaitlyn's hand. "I could use a diet soda." She wanted to add booze to that request, but she'll take what she can get after all this.

Ted stood up. "Great, I can get that for you, and try to explain all this mess."

The parlor was clean and white with chrome trim. Ted paid for Kaitlyn's ice-cream and for two medium fountain sodas. When Kaitlyn was busy licking away at her two scoops, Ted took a sip from his glass and began to speak.

"Once again, I'm terribly sorry about this. Yes, my wife does have issues, and that's me giving the understatement of the year." He looked at Kaitlyn as asked,"How old is she?"

Cassie took a drink. "She's eight years old." Sitting across from him, Cassie could see that Ted looked older than he seemed.

Ted gave a small laugh. "Wow, they do grow fast." He looked down into his soda, and said,"My wife and I have been married five years. Right from the start, she wanted to be a mother. I will more willing to wait a few years, but Anna had her heart set on her goal. I loved her, and I still do even after all this time, so I went along. She ditched the pills, and just like that, she was pregnant."

He took another drink. "Not only was she willing to have a child, she was also dedicated. She went through the whole pregnancy like a trooper. She even handled childbirth with grace and strengh. Of course, I was panicking enough for the both of us. Still, she delivered our beautiful daughter after ten hours of labor like a champ. We called her Tabitha."

Cassie listened with chastised interest. Part of her knew where this tale was headed, and it was going to be bad, but she had to hear the rest.

Ted rubbed his eyes. "When we brought Tabby home, Anna worked hard to be a good mother, and she wasn't just good. She was great. She kept the feeding schedule, she changed the diapers, the whole nine yards. I wanted to help, but she insisted that I go back to work. So, for those first few months, everything was just aces. Then-"

He took another drink. Cassie wanted him to finish, but sensed that she couldn't rush him through this.

He finally took a deep breath. "We were going to see my parents. We got everything ready for the trip. I got all bags together, and Anna thought that keeping Tabby in the stroller while we went downstairs would hurt the baby, so she held Tabby in her arms-and-well-it's not like-I mean we still lived in that second story apartment-"

He was starting to break down. His chest started to hitch, and Cassie placed her hand on his arm. "Look, just relax. If you can't finish, then don't worry. You don't have to."

He shook his head as he sucked more soda out from the straw in his glass. "No, I need to tell someone. And since Anna tried to hurt your own girl, I owe you the explanation."

Ted leaned forward, and said in a low voice,"We lived in a second story apartment. We had to go down a flight of stairs to get the parking lot. Anna and I must climbed those steps a hundred times without a second thought. But on that day, Anna was holding little Tabby, and well, either her foot slipped, or she couldn't see the first step, but we don't really know, do we? What happened was that Anna fell down the stairs with Tabby in her arms. They landed at the bottom in a heap. Anna just had a sprained ankle and some bumps and bruises, but Tabby was under her, and Anna's weight crushed Tabby's chest."

Cassie closed her eyes and said,"Sweet Jesus." The whole terrible picture became clear. The blonde woman, Anna, was crazy, but Cassie's heart went out to her all the same.

Ted pressed on. "It was a nasty, horrible accident. I didn't blame Anna, and nobody else did, but that didn't matter. Anna blamed herself for what happened. She went into complete hysterics for two days, then, she went into a catatonic state. She wouldn't move. She wouldn't eat. The doctors had to feed her through an IV to keep her healthy. I-I had to bury my first child while my wife regressed into herself.

She was in the hospital for a week, and the doctors were already talking about moving her to some nursing home. I didn't know what to do. So, I was in the gift shop, and I saw they were selling baby dolls there. Out of desperation, I bought one, took it to Anna's room, and placed it next to her. That did the trick. She saw the doll, and came back to herself. She held that doll, took care of it, and she started to take care of herself again. You see, she still remembered the accident, but she now thought that Tabby survived the fall."

Cassie held his hand. "How long has this been going on?"

Ted said,"Two years. The doctors chided me about it. They said that she will never accept that Tabby is dead as long as she has the doll, but they are not married to her. A husband's job is to keep his wife happy, no matter how crazy things get in life. And she is happy, at least for now."

Cassie heard a ringtone. Ted said,"That's me." He pulled out his phone, and check the display. "It's Anna. She wants me to get her home, so she put Tabby down for a nap." He stood up, and held his hand to her. As she took it, he said,"Once again, I'm sorry for all that happened."

Cassie shook her head. "No, I'm sorry for you. And I'm sorry that Kaitlyn took the doll."

Ted gave a small smile. "Don't be too hard on her. She's just a kid. Take care of her." With that, he turned and walked out of the parlor doors.

Cassie leaned back in her chair. That poor woman, she thought, and that poor husband that has to take care of her, and the doll that is posing as their dead child. She looked at Kaitlyn, and wondered at all the things that take her away. Diseases, accidents, evil people, bad men. Anything could get her. And what would she do if anything happened to her daughter?

"Mommy, stop hugging me! You're getting ice cream on your arm."

Casssie wasn't too worried about that.

I

The first class flight was not too unbearable, and now, it was only a short monorail ride to the most luxurious place in the Caribbean.  No, scratch that. It was the most luxurious place on Planet Earth.  It was the Paradise Hotel in Bermuda, and if six-star hotels actually existed, then this would be it.  It was built right off the western coastline, so customers can see every spectacular sunset.  The hotel itself has five pools, three massage parlors, and a fantastic al fresco restaurant.  Every room is a junior suite with the top two floors available only to US Presidents and world leaders.  Of course there was 24 hour room service, personal laundry and dry clean service,  Egyptian cotton sheets on all the beds, and access to all satellite and internet channels.  Yes indeed, this was the vacation spot for the rich elite, and that it also the perfect getaway for a Super Villain. 

He watched palm trees and green leaves flash by as the monorail sped along its track.  His name was Mortimer Simple, but the world knew him as Dr. Morbid.  He was wanted in ten different countries, and the current bounty price for him was 2.4 million dollars.  This should scare him, but didn’t take an evil mastermind to evade bounty hunters.   Most of them were as dumb as rocks, and the only reason why they seemed so good at their job was that most of the criminals they track down were not much smarter.

His mind began to contemplate the various ways that dimwitted fugitives managed to get caught by bounty hunters who only had a GED level education when his smartphone chimed.  He checked the screen.  It was his AI system Violet calling.  He sighed while he tapped the screen.  Violet was his most prized creation, and she would only call if it was important.

“Yes, Violet. What’s up?”

Her voice was modified for Super Sexy Model mode, which made her sound like a mix of Marylyn Monroe and May West.   “I’m so sorry to interrupt your vacation my love, but your ex-wife is trying to contact you.  Should I connect the call?” 

Mortimer closed his eyes.

It was just like that bitch to put a damper on this trip.  She had inadvertently helped ruin his previous plan for conquering the world by calling just when he was about to put the squeeze to his arch-nemesis, Special Agent Trip Hazard.  He had that bastard dangling over a vat of boiling acid, and was about to pull the lever, when Kat called.  She was having problems with her website, and she fully expected him, the most twisted criminal mastermind of the twenty-first century, to fix it.  He could’ve told her what to go do with herself, and her goofy website, however, she had custody of their kids, and if he wanted to keep his visitation rights, he better just figure out how to solve her problem.  He was only gone a few minutes, but that was more than enough time for Hazard to somehow break out of his bonds, disable the Doomsday device that Mortimer built to hold the world hostage, and make a clean getaway.  Well, it wasn’t totally clean.  One of Mortimer’s mutant rats managed to chomp a good chunk out of Hazard’s leg during his escape.  It will be awhile before he’ll be ready for field work again, and that was when Mortimer decided to take some time off. 

All of this reminicising took about a half a second, and he said, “Yes Violet.  Put her through.”   Better to get this out of the way now, before he checked in. 

“Hello, Morty. Just calling to remind you that your daughter is turning fourteen next week, so this is a reminder about her birthday party.” 

God, even her tone was emasculating. Of course he remembered his daughter’s birthday.  “Yes, I will be there.  Her birthday is next Monday at 1 p.m.” 

“EHHHNTT!  Right time, wrong date.  It’s 1 p.m. next Tuesday.”

His face started to burn red.  Kat loved to make that EHHNTT! sound whenever she thought he was wrong about something, like she was a buzzer on a cheesy game show.  She thought it was cute when they were dating, but when she learned that it got on his nerves, it became her favorite thing to do when she thought she was right.

“Actually, I recorded the exact time that Ariel was born.  She was born five minutes before midnight, so her birthday would be next Monday.” 

“Well, I’m her mother, and I looked at the clock while I was pushing her out of my body, and the clock read five minutes past midnight, so her birthday is next Tuesday.” 

He so wanted to remind her that the clock in the delivery room was ten minutes faster than the atomic clock that gave the precise time in their time zone, but his mind kept repeating one word:vacation, vacation, vacation…

“OK.  Next Tuesday at 1 pm.” 

“Great. And whatever you do, don’t bring a horse.”

“Now, hold the phone.  I already got her a prize winning appaloosa stud ready for shipment.”  This is one of the many reasons why they split.  He always came up with a great plan,  and she would swoop in to shit all over it. 

“Really, Dr Genius? How will she keep it, and learn to ride it?  How will she feed it?” 

He managed to keep his voice calm and neutral.  “As I explained in my email to you.  I already entered a rental agreement and paid tuition for riding lessons at Arlington Acres, which just outside of town.”  For two-thousand a month, his daughter can learn to ride and groom her prized beast, and he will have bragging rights for the Father of the Year Award in the eyes of his little girl. 

Kat said,“First off, quit making your voice calm and neutral, because I know it’s fake.  Second, did you even stop to think about how it was effect my life?  Who do you think will have to take her to that ranch, and back home?  She doesn’t even have a driver’s license, and you want to just give her a horse.  Do you think she’ll ride that thing to school?  This is just like you Mort.  You come up with this offlandish ideas, and I have to put everything back together since you were always busy slapping Band-Aids on boo-boos and pushing pills to addicts.  God, sometimes I just wish-”

She was itching for a fight, and Mortimer was more than willing to retaliate, preferably by shoving a grenade down her throat, but he had end this call.  So, he repeated the mantra: vacation, vacation, vacation….

“OK, fine. Cancel the horse...and please tell me.  What would you recommend?”

It was a ploy make her think she won, and it worked.  “I can send you a link for her wish list from Macy’s, but will the gifts get here on time?”

“Yes. Not only will I get everything on the list, but I will pay for overnight shipping.” 

There was a few seconds of silence, then she spoke.  “All right, just make sure the packages are addressed to me, so she won’t open them when they arrive.”

The bitterness in her voice was honey sweet.  She had to concede the battle, since she

saw no flaw in his plan.  “OK, that’s fine.  Remember, next Tuesday at 1pm.”

Mortimer said, “All right, I’m looking forward to it.  Talk to you later. Bye.”  And with that, he disconnected the call just as the announcement came that the monorail had reached its destination, and he could see the full glory of Paradise Hotel come into view. 

With a smile, Mortimer said, “Rot in Hell, Kat.   It’s vacation time.”

II

The monorail stopped in front of the main lobby doors, and as he entered the Paradise Hotel, Mortimer took a few seconds to just breathe in the atmosphere. Entering the lobby was like entering into Heaven. The high-arched ceiling with curved windows let in warm sunlight. The ceiling was supported with smooth azure columns which stood on a floor of polished green marble. In the center of the lobby was a large gurgling fountain with koi fish swimming in shallow pool at the bottom. People were sitting at the edge of the fountain, or in the velvet lounge chairs. The men were dressed in light summer shirts and capri shorts, and the women were barely dressed in bikini tops and thin dresses.

Mortimer took it all in, and made his way around the fountain to the front desk. His trusty suitcase was following behind, moving around the people that stood in the way. Many were bemused at the idea of seeing a piece of luggage follow their owner around, but Mortimer knew that one day, every traveller would have one.

A pretty woman with a permenant smile stood behind the main desk. When Mortimer approached, the woman said,“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Paradise Hotel. It would be my great pleasure to serve you. Do you have a reservation?”

Mortimer knew all of this was strictly part of the service training, but he didn’t mind.

“Yes. My name is Dr. Mortimer Simple, and I have a reservation.”

Still smiling, the woman typed his name in her console. After checking her records, her smile grew as she said,“Yes, welcome back, Doctor. We are so happy that you decided to return to us. Here is your room key, and if there is anything we can do to make your stay here more-” Her flawless speech faltered, and her eyes shifted around him. At first, he thought she was having a mild stroke, but then she said the last words he wanted to hear. Not here, and not ever.

“Oh my God, Mr. Hazard!”

He heard the booming voice of his enemy as he turned his head to see Agent Trip Hazard walk right up to him. He expected Hazard to launch a fist right at his face, but Hazard just breezed right past him with just a nod and a glance as he started flirting with the receptionist. The buxom blonde that was hanging on Hazard’s arm didn’t seem to mind his wolfish behavior, but Mortimer didn’t care about that. He turned and made straight for the first set of elevators. A bellboy tried to grab his suitcase, and was shocked when a jolt of electricity zapped from the handle. Mortimer just shrugged and said,“He doesn’t like anyone touching him.” His suitcase rolled its way inside the elevator, and the doors sealed closed.

The suite was amazing, but right now, Mortimer couldn’t enjoy anything that the Hotel had to offer. The only thing on his mind was Hazard. How could he just stand there, and not do anything? Hazard saw his real face, and that was why Mortimer tried to dunk him in the acid. Hazard has been a thorn in his side, and a pain in his ass for several years, and now that he had a golden opportunity to nail Dr. Morbid, he didn’t do it.

Could it be that Hazard didn't recognize him? Maybe that bite from the mutant rat gave him amnesia. No, Mortimer knew he was grasping at straws. He had to come up with a plan.

He opened his suitcase, and pulled out his laptop. After entering the various passwords and disabling the expolsive device, he used his phone to call Violet.

"Violet, I need you to get me access to the system at the Paradise Hotel."

"Of course, my darling." Within seconds, a screen opened on his laptop, showing all the menus of the hotel's computer system. Mortimer chose Registration, and saw that Hazard was booked just four rooms away in Suire 305. Mortimer tried to stop the growing panic that commanded him to just pack up and leave. This could be a sting operation, and Hazard was just biding his time until more agents arrived. Hell, they could be surrounding the place right now. He chose the Security Menu, and saw that there were no alerts posted with his name attached. That could mean that their mission was top secret, but no. This place wasn't a Holiday Inn or Hotel 6. This was a very posh resort, and any security threat would be taken very seriously.

Mortimer forced himself to relax. Maybe this was just a big coinsidence. But, if that was true, then why was Hazard even here? The only way to know was to confront him face-to-face, and Mortimer was not going to do that. Better to slap a lion's balls than to just walk up to your enemy for a chat.

He nodded to himself. If Hazard didn't make a move, then neither would he. This was still his vacation, and by God, he was going to enjoy himself. First, he would order his daughter's gifts, and then he would find the biggest margarita and make it disappear.

III

When Ariel's gifts were ordered, Mortimer called Room Service for a masseuse, and for the next hour, he groaned with pleasure as a tiny Asain girl kneaded her thin but strong fingers into his back muscles, and then walked slowly up and down his spine, making it crackle and pop. Then, he spent another hour getting steamed like a lobster, and marinating in a fragrant mudbath. By the time he went downstairs for dinner, he managed to drive Trip Hazard away from his thoughts. That is, until the maitre-de lead him to his table. Then, he saw Hazard sitting at a table off to his right. He had the buxom blonde that he walked in with on his left, and an equally busty redhead on his right, and they were hanging and laughing on every word that fell out of Hazard's mouth. That is, unless Hazard's mouth wasn't too busy chewing on a chunk of the rare steak in front of him. Mortimer was sure those girls would probably spoon feed him if Hazard asked them to.

Mortimer just concentrated on his own menu. He ordered the fish and chicken platter, and just sipped his white wine while kept his eyes averted from Hazard's table. A pleasant evening indeed, when one has to eat in the presence of the the man who has foiled every single evil plan of his to date. And now, that same man has two gorgeous babes on each arm, and he would probably have a threesome to look forward to tonight while Mortimer had to keep wondering when the hammer would fall on his head.

Mortimer stole another glance at Hazard, just as Hazard had forked another bite of steak in his mouth. He tipped a wink at Mortimer while he chewed, then mouth stopped moving. The look in his eyes went from joy and into fear.

Mortimer saw this, but kept his face calm. This was it. Now Hazard would leap across the table, and tackle him to the ground. He braced himself for the assault, but he noticed that the color on Hazard's face was darkening. Hazard's eyes started to bulge, and his mouth kept opening and closing. Hazard then stood up and his hands went straight to his own neck.

Mortimer couldn't believe was he was seeing, but all doubts were erased when the buxom blonde began to scream. "Oh my God, he's choking! Help us! Somebody! He's choking!"

Mortimer could've leapt for joy. His greatest enemy was now going to meet his end, not in a hail of bullets, or from some heroic sacrifice, but by choking a piece of rare meat. He couldn't help but to give a small smile as he watched Hazard struggle for the one thing everyone needs to do to keep living, a single breath.

The blonde and the redhead were besides themselves as they tried to pat Hazard on the back. People from the other tables were getting up to offer assistance, but no one knew what to do as they watched America's top Secret Agent go down for the count. Mortimer couldn't have planned this better. His gaze went back to Hazard. He wanted to give Hazard a true villian's laugh as he watched the life slowly leave Hazard's body.

But, as he looked at Hazard, he didn't see his nemesis. He only someone choking on food. Also, he was now the only one sitting at his table. Everyone was now converging on Hazard's table, but they were afraid to touch him. This was not the way it was supposed to go. Not like this.

It was that moment that Mortimer knew what he had to do. He stood up, and started shoving people aside. He yelled out,"Let me through, I'm a doctor!" And then the crowd parted like the Red Sea. When he got to Hazard's table, he could see Hazard was sinking to the ground. Another minute, and his brain would shut down from lack of oxygen. Mortimer stood behind him, wrapped his arms around Hazard's midsection, joined his hands together in a ball, and shoved upwards into Hazard's sternum. Two more thrusts, and a chunk of meat exploded out of Hazard's mouth, and splattered onto the table.

Hazard leaned forward onto the table, gasping for precious air, and as Mortimer released his hold, he heard people started to clap. The clapping grew until it seemed that was only sound that Mortimer could hear. They started cheering for him, and the buxom blonde pulled him down for a hug. She thanked him for saving her precious Trip, and she thanked God that he was there at the right time.

If only she knew, Mortimer thought. If only she knew.

IV

It took two hours for things to return to their former blissful state at the Paradise Hotel. Hazard was sent to the hotel's physician, while everyone wanted to congratulate Dr. Simple for a true act of bravery. Mortimer kept his composure while everyone took selfies with him and shook his hand until he thought it would break off. One good thing did occur: the manager informed him that he would get a refund on his bill, and for the first time in the hote's history, Mortimer would receive a compted room on his next visit.

He returned to his room, and collapsed on the small sofa that faced the TV. He wanted to run. He wanted to get drunk, and forget this whole mess. One thing was for certain, his career as a mastermind villian was over. There was no way he could go back to trying to conquer the world to his bidding now that his face was plastered all over the Internet. He would have to put his mutant rats to sleep. He would have to deactivate Violet. He would even have to destroy his Secret Lab.

Why did he do that? Why couldn't he just let Hazard kick the bucket? Mortimer scoured his brain for that answer, but there wasn't one. His hatred for the man was still there, now more than ever. This could've been a setup all along. This might have been the plan to stop Dr. Morbid from doing any more evil deeds. By performing one act of mercy on his sworn enemy. Could Hazard be that devious?

No, there was real fear in Hazard's eyes. Mortimer saw that. In the end, Hazard was just as afraid of death as any other man, and maybe that was it. Yes, seeing Hazard going out from something that he couldn't control touched a nerve. The nerve that connects everyone. That fear of Inevitable Death. Hazard was never afraid as he stopped every one of Mortimer's plans, but he was afraid tonight. And that sparked a last light of mercy that moved him to use the Heimleich to keep Death away from Hazard.

Mortimer gave a heavy sigh. Now that he knew that there was a spark of mercy in him, he knew he couldn't go back to life of crime. It's not like things could get any worse.

Then his phone rang. He tapped the screen, and heard Kat's voice.

"Congratulations, dumbass. I checked that order you placed for Ariel's gifts, and you ordered all of her clothes one size too small. Wow, the brilliant doctor, who doesn't care enough about his own daughter to get her correct size. Of course, what did I expect from you. You never even got my size right. You men are all alike-"

Mortimer was wrong. It just got worse.