Who were they, and why did they come together?
Very good questions…

In the days before Essex, and the days before the world divided again, they would never have spoken to each other. Forget about forging lasting relationships and alliances. Speak to each other? Not likely.

Who am I and why am I telling this tale?
More good questions. But those are not questions I am addressing tonight. Perhaps when my time in the story arrives I will tell, but for now, I am not as important as they…

Shall we start with that fateful night when the first half of the group came together? That's as good a place as any to start. By now, I trust that you have been told of their backgrounds prior to coming together. I'll not repeat what you already know.

Shall I start with arrivals then?

It begins in an alley, where an orphan runs afoul of a gang of street toughs…

Markas and Chance

Two weeks on the streets had already convinced Markas that almost anyplace can suck if you give it enough time. The locals, the Barbaranos, are generous to panhandlers when they give, but they're just as likely to walk past you and call the cops to have you rousted out as help you.

That night, Markas was able to scrounge lunch out of the McDonalds dumpster near his squat, but it wasn't enough. Tired & hungry (but not hungry enough to take a ride with any of the fat old guys from Carpenteria and Montecito who kept trying to entice him into their cars), he set out for Roslyn's. At least there he could get a free sandwich and a cup of coffee. As a bonus, she walks around with her tits hanging out - dinner and a show!

As he headed off, the anticipation of a meal and some good company warming his belly, Markas noticed the alley ahead fill with dark shapes. He tried to turn and run, but they were already behind him, too. Their colors were obvious. El Castillos, a Hispanic gang, and they were looking for a victim. Their leader, Ramon, smiled at Markas.

"Well, well, little Markey-mark." said Ramon, "On El Castillo turf again, and without paying rent."

Ramon looked to his friends, then back to Markas.

"How much you got on you, boy? If it's enough, you can pay your rent and be on your way. If it's not, well, El Toro Negro here will just have to make you his bitch until your rent is paid up."

Toro, Ramon's lieutenant, looked like he was hoping Markas couldn't pay them off.

Markas began to frantically counting what money he had, when another voice, behind Ramon, called out.

"Still the only way you can get a date, Ramon?"

The El Castillos turned to face the newcomers - a group of Goths, wearing body armor and armored leather dusters. Their faces were Harlequin-painted, and their weapons were held at the ready. Crows.

A young woman swinging a razor-edged fighting chain smiled, and said, "Come, my children of the night. Let us make sweet music together!"

The two gangs charged each other. Forgotten in the melee, Markas made a break for it. An El Castillo pipe had other ideas and sent him to the ground, gasping for breath. Another blow convinced Markas that standing up was overrated at that particular moment. Rolling for safety, he bumped into the legs of one of the Crows. The Crow leapt over Markas and his nunchaku made short work of the pipe-wielding El Castillo.

A shot rang out, and the Crow was grazed in the shoulder. He drew a 9mm Glock and returned fire. Toro dropped as his brain was splashed onto a graffiti-covered wall. Ramon turned to look at his friend's killer, and the razor chain opened his throat.

Police sirens began to wail, and the combatants began to scatter. The Crow holstered his gun, grabbed Markas' arm, and took off at a sprint. Soon, they were onto a series of warehouse roofs, running from shadow to shadow. When they stopped to descend to the ground, only two winos were there to see them.

Markas recognized the location - Roslyn's! The winos were sleeping beside her dumpster.

"You're…Markas, right?" The Crow said, "I'm Chance - I brought you here when you first hit town. Remember? I thought you'd be careful enough to avoid punks like that."

Markas smiled, he remembered the Crow, albeit vaguely. His eyes were the only things Markas remembered clearly: one green, the other blue.

Police sirens sounded again - closer, this time.

"Come on," Chance said, "lets get some grub. Besides, we don't want to be on the streets right now."

Going into Roslyn's, the pair passed a hearse parked in front of the coffeehouse. Braided garlic hung over the mirror, and several long wooden stakes were in a rifle rack…

Markas and Chance took seats at the bar. A couple of Goth girls were over in the corner, a university chick was reading, and next to the bar, a Suit was sitting with a little girl in a wheelchair, watching the door like a hawk.

Chance called out, "Hey, Roz, two coffees and a sandwich for the kid. Has Seth come in yet? One of those short-eyed El Castillos got a lucky shot on me."

Roslyn handed him his coffee, and said, "Seth's off tonight, but you're in luck. He's in the stacks."

Morgan and Cynthia Anderson

Armed with rumors and hope, Morgan Anderson began the long drive north from L.A. to Santa Barbara. It was hard for him to believe that he was doing this - that he was actually going to find two EMTs and ask them to miraculously heal his daughter. But if there was any chance the rumors were true, how could he not? Morgan would readily give anything to see his baby walk again. That much was obvious just by glancing at the man's eyes. It wasn't like the doctors were offering any chance for a full recovery for Cynthia. Grasping at straws? Maybe. But straws were all that Morgan had left…

Cynthia was resting in the little nest Morgan had made for her in the back seat of his Sportage. She was excited that her daddy was taking her for a long drive. She was tired of hospitals and stupid people poking and prodding her. She just wished daddy would smile more often. He was always sad now.

He pulled into the parking lot of Roslyn's Café a little after 8pm. It was a good two-hour drive and people had been really crazy on the road that day. Morgan checked his watch yet again, but he knew that the EMTs did not even start their shift until 8 p.m. He was there in plenty of time to catch them when they took their break for lunch.

Morgan was a little surprised when the waitress turned out to be topless, but she seemed nice enough. She even helped him move one of the tables to make enough room for Cynthia's wheelchair. She did not even ask why Morgan insisted on a seat that was facing the door. She gave him a menu and told him that she would be right back with some glasses of water.

Looking around, Morgan took in the décor. It was a little homier than he'd expected, what with the dress code of the wait staff. The chairs were comfy and the tables were spaced to give people a chance to talk quietly with their friends. Off to the far end of the room, Morgan could see that the tables gave way to crowded bookshelves interspersed with plump pillows and overstuffed chairs.

Morgan noticed a young woman is curled up in one of the chairs. Based on the stack of textbooks she had, he guessed she was a college student. She was sipping something that steamed slightly and smelled wonderful.

A couple of Goth girls were sitting at a table in the corner. They were having a dreadfully serious conversation on the unreality of the universe, and how people were blinded by the perceptions of what they expected to see. Morgan rolled his eyes.

Morgan ordered sandwiches for both Cynthia and himself, then settled back, prepared to wait...

Kris

Kris had just finished a maddening shift at the steakhouse. People had really been on edge that day, and it seemed like the crankier they were, the more likely Scotty was to get their order wrong. When she counted up her meager tips, Kris wondered why she bothered. Not sure that she wanted to deal with her roomies after work, Kris decided that a latte at Roslyn's sounded delightful.

It wasn't too long before Kris was settled in her favorite chair at Roslyn's, a steaming latte and waybread biscuit at hand. She had brought in a few of her textbooks, but she didn't feel much like studying that night. Kris tried to ignore the two Goths in the corner, but she was starting to think that those were two people for whom a stint in the Army would do a world of good.

Kris glanced up when the door chimed. A man entered, pushing a little girl in a wheelchair. She couldn't be more than 2 or 3 years old. The way he was checking the place out, he was obviously looking for someone, and equally as obviously, not finding him or her. Roslyn helped him make room for the wheelchair at one of the tables, then he sat and ordered coffee, black, and a chocolate milk for the little girl. Even though she was smiling, her scars were enough to make Kris wince. The short, peach-fuzz blond hair did little to hide the dark red scars across her scalp; too rough and chaotic to be from surgery.

One side of her face was partially paralyzed, and she had a hard time moving her right hand. On a chain around her neck, she wore a woman's wedding ring. Every once in awhile, the man could be found glancing at the ring.

The glare of headlights through the window pulled both Kris' and the Suit's attention away from the broken little girl. A hearse had just pulled up and parked. "Great!" thought Kris. "It's the Fearless Vampire Killer. Yay…" She'd seen him in here before; he was another lingerer, always reading books on the occult and the paranormal. His hearse had a braid of garlic over the mirror, and a rifle rack loaded with long, wooden stakes.

He ordered a mocha latte and vanished into the stacks. Kris managed to get back into her reading for a while, but was interrupted again when a Crow - a member of a gang of street vigilantes (and Brandon Lee wanna-bes) - came in, accompanied by a young man - a runaway, probably. The Crow was one Kris had seen around as well; he has one green eye and one blue one. He was also injured, and bleeding slightly.

The Crow sat at the bar and said, "Hey, Roz, two coffees and a sandwich for the kid. Has Seth come in yet? One of those short-eyed El Castillos got a lucky shot on me."

Roslyn handed him his coffee, and said, "Seth's off tonight, but you're in luck. He's in the stacks."

Together for the first time

So, our heroes are all under one roof. But will they give each other the time of day? Perhaps the Goths might've spoken to the Crow, or Kris to Morgan. But as a group, there was no reason to be together yet. That would come quickly enough, though.

Outside, the sound of gunshots drew a concerned look from Anderson. The others looked up absently, used to the dangers of the area. In response, police sirens wailed.

Ignoring the outside world, Markas babbled to Chance, about having the gang where he wanted them and not revealing his strengths too soon. Then he turned to Roslyn.

"I-am-sorry-to-bother-you-Ms.-Roslyn," Markas chirped. His entire sentence was one burst of energy. His words joined together, barely distinguishable, yet were oddly understood by all listening. "Have-have-you-received-any-more-of-those-special-books-I-asked-about-last-time? Of-course-I-can't-buy-it-out-right-but-I-have-a-little-bit-of-money-to-rent-some-time-with-them-if-you-have-any-new-ones. If-not-I-would-love-to-rent-some-time-with-the-old-ones."

Unfazed, and barely out of breath, Markas walked up to the child in the wheelchair. Unperturbed by the father's worried expression, he threw a few questions her way. He was trying to find out is she was born like this or was she in a bad accident. It was fairly obvious that the scars were the result of an accident. Despite the subject, the girl seemed pleased someone was talking to her as if she were real rather than like a broken doll. Every few seconds, Markas cast sidelong glances toward the door in the unsubtle way that only a person who doesn't want to be noticed but always is... Markas introduced himself, and Anderson replied hesitantly. He obviously did not want to estrange anyone in the area. Markas' eyes misted for a split second as Anderson said something about a car accident involving Cynthia and her mother.

Chance glanced out the door, his wound oozing slight amounts of blood. His face paint was, oddly, not out of place in this almost surreal environment.

Anderson signaled Roslyn to get more coffee and nervously surveyed the scene, obviously wanting to be able to run if things became dangerous. The college student, Kris, yawned and stretched, rising to get the circulation in her legs going again and to survey the events outside. She could find no evidence that the police wanted to enter the shop, and wandered back to her studies. However, first a couple of police cars, then an ambulance, roared past the coffee shop and raced up the ally. Kris was not sure what happened, but the cops sure seemed excited about it.

In the meantime, Roslyn smiled warmly at Markas and offered to let him read his books onsite for free. He readily accepted, and Anderson marveled that she was able to get in a word edgewise.

Before Chance could take off across her nice clean floor, Roslyn grabbed him and steered him to a chair.

"Chance, sit down already." Roslyn commanded. "Seth! Chance is here. He needs a little help."

Seth, AKA The Fearless Vampire Killer, emerged from the bookshelves in back. "Huh?" Then he saw the blood dripping from Chance's arm. "Chance, when the hell are you going to learn to duck? My kit's out in my car. I'll be right back."

He was only gone about a minute, and came back in with a fairly substantial medical kit.

"I suppose I'd be wasting my breath to suggest you go to the hospital, right? Well, let's see what we've got." He worked on the Crow quickly and efficiently. It wasn't the first time he'd had to patch him up. Without asking, he numbed the area with a local before cleaning and stitching the wound. He finished the treatment by saying, "You're lucky this time. The bullet just creased you."

"It's this damn vest." Chance muttered, "Looks good, but it slows me down." He looked over at Markas & whistled. "Hey, kid! Catch! Wear it in good health. And get a protective cup; some folks fight dirty."

While Seth finished his triage, Anderson signaled Roslyn and inquired about the medic. Intrigued, Roslyn gave him a winning smile.

"Why?" Roslyn asked Anderson, "What did you need?" She looked over at Cynthia and she seems to come to some sort of conclusion. "I'm sure Seth will talk to you. He'll be done in a minute."

"Thank you," replied Anderson, he followed Roslyn's gaze to his daughter, obviously in mental anguish as deep as the child's wounds. "I'll wait until he's done." Roslyn smiled sympathetically at the man, noticing that his sandwich had been pulled apart and toyed with, but not eaten. She went to the cooler behind the bar, and brought another sandwich for Chance as Seth finished with his arm. She set it in front of him and said, "You need to eat too."

Markas looked down at the books next to his plate. The title on the first book was "The Will and the Way - Using Your Willpower to Change Your World". The second book read "Simple Spells for Daily Life - Volume III".

Roslyn leaned over to Seth and told him something. He glanced at Anderson, and then headed off towards the restrooms. She came back over with Morgan's coffee. "Seth is going to get cleaned up then he'll be right over." Then she turned to the skinny kid that just introduced himself.

"Markas, hon, eat your sandwich. If you get any thinner a stiff wind could blow you away."

Kris looked up again from her books. The ambulance was returning back up the ally. The sirens were not on. That couldn't be good. She didn't see any of the cops yet. It really seemed TOO quiet out there. The shadows on the street were giving Kris the creeps.

Chance caught Roslyn's attention to thank her for the sandwich and added in a soft voice: "Just so you know, a little bird tells me Ramon & Toro have been permanently rehabilitated." Roslyn frowned, but not too severly.

"Chance, you'd better tell your little bird to keep his head down. The cops may not care that much - I think their rap sheets were thicker than the yellow pages - but Ramon & Toro had friends and their friends are going to care a lot." She patted his arm and gave him a little smile. "Good job, kid."

Quietly, Chance added, "We saw Markas heading over here from Nuava Paseo. Little Juan & Flan were tailing him with their phones. Morticia had seen Ramon & Toro hanging out at a good ambush point, so we headed over. Just some bad guys looking for trouble. It didn't have to be Markas. Anybody walking through there would have been attacked. They were so focused on trying to scare Markas that we just walked up and took them out."

Also in hushed tones, Roslyn responded, "Markas was lucky you and your friends were there. I've seen what that group does to the kids unfortunate enough to cross their path." She paused for a moment. "Chance? Ahem. I'm up here."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But if you're going to go to the trouble of showing them off, it would be rude of me not to pay attention to them. I mean, there's a shortage of perfect breasts in the world; when a pair comes around, it's just wrong not to bask in their glory."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before." But she didn't really look angry.

Kris signaled Roslyn while keeping an eye on the door. When Roslyn came over, Kris indicated Chance and Markas. "Is someone going to come in here looking for them?" After all, why wouldn't the cops come in here looking for them? For some reason Roslyn didn't look too concerned. Kris thought about it for a second, and realized that she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen any cops stop by here, unless they were some of Roslyn's regulars.

In the meantime, Seth came back from the bathroom, freshly washed up. He held out his hand to Anderson. "Hi, I'm Seth. And you're Morgan? Roslyn said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes, that's right." Anderson replied, offering hand as well "This is Cynthia. I've actually traced you halfway across the state based on hearsay and rumor. God, I don't know where to start..." Morgan sighed, and shakily raised his coffee cup to his lips "Look, I'll be blunt. What have I got to lose? Cynthia and her mother were in an accident. All doctors we've seen said theirs nothing that can be done for her. She'll be… ...in a wheelchair for the rest of her life."

Morgan's eyes were misting as the memory of his wife surfaced.

"Roslyn thought it might be something like that." Seth cut in to ease the man's suffering "Aerin's not here or I know she'd help you out. She can't stand to see a child suffer. There's someone else, though, that may be able to help... Let me give him a call."

Roslyn was staring at Seth's candor with Anderson. He turned to her and said, "Look, what can it hurt now? We both know what's going down tomorrow. We stayed here to help people, didn't we? And these people need help." He pulled out his cell phone, punched in a number, and asked to speak with Steven. He waited for a few moments, sipping his latte. When Steven came to the phone, Seth proceeded to explain Anderson's situation. After a moment, he looked up and smiled. Seth gave Anderson a thumbs-up and promised Steven they'd be there soon. He listened for a moment, then his eyebrows rose slightly, and he promised to be careful before hanging up the phone.

Seth stared at Morgan intently for a moment.. "What's your opinion on the existence of multiple Gods? If you're gonna do that whole 'get away, agent of Satan' thing if someone's not Christian, then there's no point taking you. If you're still interested I'll take you there after I finish my latte." He took another healthy swig and turned his head. "Roslyn, Steven says there's already bogies loose. We need to be careful."

"Thanks," Morgan replied. "I'll be honest with you - right now I don't know what I believe in. You have your life torn apart by road rage, your wife killed and your little girl... …Look, anything you guys can do is appreciated. I've brought money; I'll give you just about anything to ease her suffering. As hokey as it sounds, I'm ready to believe in the Bajoran Prophets if it means my little girl can grow up healthy... "

Seth shook his head. "Put your wallet away. What you are asking for, money will not buy." He went back to his latte. Morgan was surprised that his money had been refused, and found himself babbling about people not helping each other for nothing. He suddenly came back into the real world when his daughter asked for more milk.

Roslyn dropped off Cynthia's new glass of milk and noticed Kris flagging her. She went to Kris's table and said, "sure, honey, what do you need? Kris said, I heard you talking about 'bogies' and something bad happening tomorrow. What's up?" Roslyn sighed and sank down into one of the chairs. Kris began worrying a bit more. In all her time as a patron here, she had never seen Roslyn sit.

"Things are going to get pretty heavy tomorrow." Roslyn explained, "I can't explain to you how I know, but I know that the government is going to declare a state of emergency. The CDC and NSA are going to be using the military to put up roadblocks all over. They'll say they need to test everyone for a disease outbreak. They'll be lying. This is going to sound crazy, but there's a rip in the fabric of reality. It's a small rip now, but tomorrow it's going to bust wide open and everything is going to Change." She gave Kris a concerned look. "You really shouldn't go to work or school tomorrow. It's going to be bad. Do you have someplace safe you're staying?"

The Goth girls gathered their things, leaving money on the counter for Roslyn. Morgan, Chance and Kris noticed, idly, that they were really poor tippers.

Seth rose, turning to Morgan. "We can go now. Steven is expecting us. He'll have cleared us for the gate." He glanced at Cynthia. "We can wait until you finish your milk first, sweetie." As if on cue, screams sounded outside. One was abruptly cut off, followed by the sound of ripping metal.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Seth asked Morgan. Receiving an assent, Seth opened his medical kit and pulled out two Glocks. Handing one to Anderson, he moved toward the door. A gun appeared in Roslyn's hand as well.

"I'll watch Cynthia for you," Roslyn said with a wry grin. "Nothing's going to get past me."

As he headed towards the door, Chance shouted to Markas, "Toss that vest over the kid!" He drew his nunchaku, ready to drop it and draw his gun if the situation warranted.

Going through her belongings, Kris swore, realizing she had nothing but books and pepper spray. Undaunted, she grabbed the pepper spray and took a stand with Roslyn in front of Cynthia.

"Okay, now I am officially freaked..." Morgan's need for the normalcy of middle-class life asserted itself. "Why these strangers are willing to protect my daughter is beyond me... especially when so many doctors have told me there's nothing that can be done for her…" His musings trailed off as he left his daughter's side and moved into a position of cover where he could keep watch through the door with the others...

"Man-I-hate-it-when-everyone-wants-to-make-me-eat." Markas said, nonplussed by the excitement outside, "I-eat-when-I-am-hungry. So-how-are-you-today-Cynthia?-I-guess-I-should-put-the-armor-on.-I-had-to-scare-off-some-really-bad-thugs.-Luckly-for-them-Chance-came-along-and-pulled-me-off-them.-I-just-wish-I-was-able-to-put-a-scare-into-them.-Well-before-Rosalyn-comes-back-and-gives-me-some-more-shit-I-better-eat-a-little.-You-know-us-little-ones-don't-need-to-eat-a-lot-of-food-just-enough-to-make-others-happy."

Outside, the parking lot had been transformed into a scene from a horror movie. One of the Goth girls was on the ground in a spreading pool of blood. A greenish, stinking creature was crouching over her. Disgusting slurping sounds confirmed the group's worst fears of what the creature was doing.

The second Goth girl was screaming. A wave of darkness snapped away from her as her skin turned a ghastly gray and her hair danced on end. Silver fire shot from her hands, incinerating the creature snacking on her fallen friend and blowing a hole through Kris's car, sitting behind him. Markas & Chance noticed another one of the creatures behind Kris's car, but the Goth girl did not. She fell to her knees, cradling the remains of her friend in her arms.

Chance fired three shots at the nasty creature. His first shot hit. The second shot went through Kris' car, and the third shot hit. Monster brains sprayed all over the place. The first shot hurt it, then the second shot took its head clean off. As their ears stopped ringing from Chance's shots, the heard the terrible keening of the Goth girl as she continued to cradle her fallen friend, rocking back and forth. Inside the coffee shop, Kris heard the shots and moved Cynthia further back into the stacks.

Faintly, from the alley, came the sound of ripping fabric, then a horrible wet sound of flesh being gnawed from bone. Then came a faint moan, full of helpless terror. Markas gripped his gun tighter and moved to the alley to investigate.

Rounding the corner into the alley, Markas saw a noxious, leathery green looking creature. Gore was dripping down its arm and it looked like it was feeding on a fallen police officer. He saw the flashlight lying next to the officer. The worst thing though was that he could see by the light shining into the officer's eyes that he was still alive! Without hesitating, Markas fired. The first was a solid hit, but his next shots went wide as the creature spun around and charged in his direction. It was clearly hurt, but the wound seemed to have only enraged it.

"Foolish boy," it hissed. "You're next."

It easily closed the distance to Markas, who began to gag at its rancid stench. It clawed wildly at him, but Markas dodged the first slash and his new bulletproof vest stopped the second. Backpedaling wildly, Markas managed to dance out of the way as it snapped at him with long, yellow, gore-covered fangs.

Morgan rounded the corner in time to see Markas avoid the creature's attack. With Markas out of the way, Morgan fired. The first two shots struck home while the third went wide. It was enough, though. The creature spun around, screaming horribly, then slammed into the side of the building. It hung there for a moment before sliding lifelessly to the ground.

Morgan scanned the area, muttering "OK, now I know we should have stayed in bed this morning..." Seth ran up and began evaluating the officer's condition. He looked up at Morgan and said, "My bag is still inside. Can you get it?" Morgan nodded, then raced inside. He grabbed Seth's bag, and ran back to the alley.

Meanwhile, Markas began to look around to see if there was anything else that might need taking care of. He strutted around kicking the ugly things and saying:"You-are-lucky-Ugly-I-was-just-about-ready-to-open-a-can-of-whoop-ass." As he was kicking the ugly creature, Markas found it resembled one of the winos he saw regularly. A horribly twisted version, but a wino nonetheless.

When Morgan returned, he found himself drafted as Seth's assistant as he tended to the fallen officer. He used the officer's flashlight to give Seth some light to work by. He could see wet, torn flesh through the shreds of the man's pant leg. Even to Morgan's untrained eye, it looked bad.

Satisfied that both of the creatures in the parking lot were dead, Chance knelt by the Goth girl. She ignored him, and continued sobbing and rocking her friend's lifeless body. Chance left her to her mourning and moved to examine the alley. A short distance into it, the officer's patrol car sat idling. The officer had parked by the ladder he and Markas had descended earlier. Looking closely, Chance spotted semi-fresh blood stains on some of the ladder rungs - his own blood, probably. It must be what caught the officer's attention and got him to get out of his car.

Chance left the patrol car, knelt down next to the officer and said, "Look, you're going to be fine. I'm going to get your shotgun out of your car just in case anything else shows up. You guys normally have a bag of SWAT gear in the trunk, too, don't you? I'm going to get that, too. As soon as Seth gets you on your feet, you can have them back."

Roslyn re-entered the coffee shop and called back to Kris, "It looks like all clear for now, Kris. Go ahead and bring Cynthia back out here." Kris marveled that Cynthia was looking a little scared, but not crying. She wondered absently what a child could go through that she wouldn't cry at gunshots and explosions Roslyn peered out the front door again. "Um, Kris? What kind of car were you driving?" At her answer, Roslyn gave Kris the bad news about the car's condition.

Markas stopped and talked to the Goth girl. "I-am-sorry-we-were-not-fast-enough-to-help-your-friend.-What-is-your-name?-My-name-is-Markas.-Where-are-you-from?-Do-you-have-anywhere-to-go?-By-the-way-how-did-you-do-what-you-did-to-that-Ugly?-I-am-trying-to-figure-out-how-to-harness-the-inner-power.-Is-that-how-you-did-it?-Maybe-you-could-show-me-some-things-that-would-help-me-out.-So-what-have-you-got-to-say?-How-about-it-huh?-I-would-love-to-help-you-out-if-you-want?-What-would-you-like-for-me-to-do?-Can-I-get-you-something?-I-think-you-should-move-away-from-the-middle-of-the-street."

Markas felt an aura of dark fear coming off of the girl. Her hair was a wild mane, and when she looked over at him, her tear-drenched eyes were glowing a bloody red. "Meredith is dead." She rocked numbly. Markas could swear that the girl in her arms was looking more and more desiccated by the minute. "My name is Liesel. I have nothing to offer you. I have nothing to give anyone. I have NOTHING inside!" The dead girl in her arms crumbled to dust. "I am NOTHING!" She shrieked, and silver flames shot into the sky, crackling from her fingertips. "I AM NOTHING!" She moved away, crying silver flames. A wave of cold swept over Markas and fear rooted his feet to the ground.

Another police car came squealing around the corner. Liesel was caught briefly in the headlights. The car screeched to a stop, just short of the girl. The officer leapt out of the car, shouting "What the hell are you doing...What the hell is that?" He pulled his gun and started backing away. Liesel turned to him, as if just noticing his presence. "Where were you when they were killing Meredith? Where WERE YOU?" Silver fire lashed out again, incinerating the officer, and a good chunk of his patrol car. As the pieces of the car crashed to the ground, she continued up the street, trailing flame behind her.

"So much for backup. Chance." mused Seth, "Help me get the officer into the back of my hearse. Markas. Grab the door!"

Roslyn exited to stand in the open doorway, staring up the street. "Roslyn!" Seth called to get her attention. "We have to go. You'd better come with us. It's not safe for you to stay here alone." Roslyn nodded then looked at Kris. "Kris, you don't even have a car, dear. You should come with us. You can always get a ride home later. Help me close up inside. I just need to grab a few things and turn off the coffee pot."

Morgan's car was still in good shape, for which he was grateful. Kris didn't waste time mourning the fact that her car was totaled; the trunk contents were salvageable and she grabbed everything she could. Chance found no SWAT bag in the patrol car, but the officer's tactical weapon was a full-auto Styer AUG. Chance shook his head as he admired it. Beautiful, but he had now idea how to use it properly. He also found a 12-pack of Code Red soda in a small beer cooler in the passenger seat. The trunk contained another large gun, flares, a traffic incident kit, a spare change of clothes, a few teddy bears, another case of Code Red, and boxes of ammo for the officer's side arm, the shotgun, and the Styer as well as a jack and the usual trunk stuff. Chance held up the Styer and asked, "Anyone know how to use this?" Kris nodded and said, "Oh, yeah. I most certainly do." Chance handed the assault rifle over to her and went to help Seth.

Once the officer was loaded into the hearse, Chance looked at Seth and opened the passenger door to the hearse. He held up the officer's Mossberg and called out "Shotgun!" with a large grin. Seth rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.

"OK." Morgan said, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "If what's been said is really going to happen, this is just the beginning... My car is equipped to accommodate the wheelchair. It also has some food and other supplies - we've been driving for sometime...I can take two passengers including Cynthia and myself. Anyone for grabbing some other supplies?"

Roslyn nodded and ran into the coffee shop. She grabbed a few things from her apartment on the second floor, and then loaded up on food supplies from the kitchen. In a very short time she had her stuff stowed in the back of the Sportage and was ready to go. "Thanks for the ride Morgan. I really appreciate it."

"No worries," Morgan replied, "but just where are we going that's going to be safe?" Then indicating the direction Liesel had gone, he added, "Do you its wise to just let her wander off? Shouldn't we try to help?"

"It may not be wise," Roslyn answered "but do you think we could stop her? Look at what she did to the cop and his car." Then she glanced at Cynthia and said quietly, "From what our friend said, things are only going to get worse from here. We should get Cynthia someplace safe while we can." Roslyn put another satchel in the back of the Sportage and continued. "You wanted to know if the place we're going is safe. It belongs to the friend that warned us about all of this. It's in Montecito - a walled estate inside a gated community. We should be safer there than most other places we could go."

Roslyn glanced in the direction the former Goth girl went again. "She said it would be bad - but I've never seen anything like that. I may come to regret deciding to stay."

"What do you mean 'regret staying'?" Morgan asked.

"Hmmm…" Roslyn thought about her answer before continuing. "The short form, as Aerin used to put it, is that 'she isn't local'. She offered Seth and I, and some others, the chance to accompany her back to where she comes from. We thought about it a long time, but decided the kids - the street kids, I mean - will need people around that care for them. Now, more than ever. So here we are."

Roslyn turned back to Kris. "Most immediately, we're going to go to Aerin's house. Steven is going to see if he can help Cynthia and the officer. Once that's done, I think a somewhat fuller disclosure is in order. I know it's all going to sound pretty unbelievable…but perhaps less so after what just happened out here."

"Man-did-you-see-that?" Markas' high speed speech style broke the brief silence "Her-eyes-were-red-and-she-was-so-cold.-I-hope-she-is-OK-I-really-liked-her.-She-was-really-nice-to-me.-I-would-love-to-study-her-and-see-what-you-is-going-to-do.-But-I-have-so-much-to-learn-about-you-all-so-I-guess-I-will-follow-along-with-you-guys.-Man-this-place-is-going-to-be-really-cool."
*Breath*
"Maybe-we-can-see-what-happens-around-the-neighborhood.-So-who-do-I-get-to-ride-with?-How-about-you-Chance?-I-would-love-to-learn-how-you-became-such-a-bad-man.-Maybe-you-could-tell-me-how-you-came-to-the-streets-and-why-you-are-always-trying-to-be-a-badass.-Wow-Kris-you-can-really-handle-that-rifle-where-did-you-learn-to-do-that.-So-where-are-we-going?-I-don't-really-know-this-area-very-well-yet-but-I-am-learning."
*Breath*

Without missing a beat, Markas ran into the store and grabbed his books, then ran back outside, still talking.

Seth called over to him, "Markas, hop in. There's plenty of room with us."

The glee was written all over Markas' face." Oh boy, I get to ride with Chance!"

Seth called to Morgan, "It's best if you just follow me. The directions are a little complicated. Here's my cell phone number if we get separated."

Markas was bouncing around the inside of the hearse, checking out all of the neat stuff Seth has stashed everywhere. He noticed that the tops of his ears were itching a little, but that was so insignificant compared to looking around and poking through stuff. He found a little tin of Chance's face paint in his pocket. Wow! Neat colors. He was certain that if he reached into the front seat and readjusted the mirror, he'd be able to see to apply stuff just perfect...

"Thank-you-Seth.-I-think-this-car-is-way-radical.-Maybe-someday-when-I-learn-to-drive-I-can-get-a-car-that-is-this-awsome.-So-where-did-get-it?-How-fast-can-it-go?-Did-you-ever-think-about-painting-it-bright-Green?-That-would-be-really-cool.-I-think-you-should-think-about-it."
*Breath*
"Maybe-you-could-even-put-flames-on-it.-So-Chance-what-do-you-think.-I-tried-to-get-your-look-but-you-are-such-a-dark-person-I-could-not-get-it-right.-By-the-way-were-are-you-from?-I-move-around-a-lot.-I-have-been-to-Oakland,-Burbank,-Long-Beach,-Santa-Ana,-San-Diego,-Redlands,-Indio,-Oxnard-and-a-whoooooole-bunch-of-othere-places.-None-as-cool-as-here-though."
*Breath*
"Well-this-car-is-so-cool-lots-of-things-to-look-at.-I-think-I-am-going-to-read-these-books-that-Roslyn-gave-me.-She-is-such-a-nice-lady-with-huge-Breasts.-Those-things-are-bigger-than-any-I-have-ever-seen.-I-hope-her-and-that-little-girl-are-OK.-Cynthia-is-really-nice-I-like-her-a-lot.-Well-excuse-me-while-I-read."

Stopping to breath, his attention span exceeding his limit, he began to read his new books.

Starting his vehicle, Morgan turned to Roslyn.

"Roslyn," he began, "was I crazy to follow rumors about magic to help Cynthia?"

Roslyn's answer was both comforting and a little cryptic. "Well Morgan, if you'd asked me that question several years ago, I would have thought you were crazy. But I've seen so many strange things over the last few years, there's not much that surprises me anymore. When you find out that your planet is being used as a vacation home for world-hopping elves, garden-variety weirdness pales in comparison. And on a personal note, if Cynthia were my little girl, I'd grasp at any straw to try to help her too. It's just that in this case, you've managed to grasp a pretty substantial straw."

In the hearse, Chance was tuning Markas out - something weird was going on. Something disquieting. With one hand on his seatbelt release, ready to bail if the car came under attack, Chance watched the shadows and the cross streets, looking for ambushes, shadows on the rooftops, and anything that just didn't look right.

De La Guerra, the street out front of Roslyn's, was eerily quiet. No one emerged to pick over the abandoned patrol cars. Distant sirens wailed, but there were none close-by. The group could tell, even from some fifty feet away, that there was nothing to be done for the officer that encountered the Goth girl.

Seth continued on about a block and a half (readjusting his mirror as soon as Markas was distracted reading), then turned right onto De La Vina - a one way street. There was a little more traffic here and the sirens continued to wail in the distance. He continued up De La Vina, taking the second left. Things looked relatively normal when the small caravan turned onto Cota Street. State had its usual evening traffic. Glancing up Anacapa Street to the left, everyone could just see the top of City Hall. Activity around city hall seemed to be at an unusual level for this time of night, and there were a number of long dark cars with tinted windows parked along the street outside.

Morgan swallowed, a look of concern and near fear crossing his face. Kris readjusted herself, keeping her gun ready but below the window. She glanced over to Morgan. Her look conveyed her desire to avoid trouble with the police and not scare the young passenger behind her.

"I wonder," Morgan said, looking around ahead of the Sportage, " how folks back home will deal with all of this - or if it'll reach that far...Kind of makes me think of the calm before the storm. That and Mad Max, The Postman and all the other post apocalyptic movies and books..."

Looking in his rearview, Morgan tried to reassert normalcy. "Kris, there are some books and whatnot in a bag at Cynthia's feat, could you hand her a few? If she hasn't nodded off yet that is..."

Kris smiled, rummaging through the bag (one eye still on the exterior of the vehicle) and found the young girl a toy or two. "Here ya go sweetie." She said

Two more blocks up Cota - they heard a lot of noise coming from the Recycling Center off to the right, but that was normal, wasn't it?

A strong urge to roll up their windows swept the group as they passed Ortega Park. There seemed to be a lot of shadowy shapes moving around the darkened park. For some reason the streetlights were all out. Probably vandals.

The Santa Barbara Junior High School compound was right past the park. They could see a few lights on within the school, but there was usually some sort of extra-curricular activities going on. But every little sight and sound jumped out on them, adding to fears and tension. One block past the school, they turned right onto Alisos Street.

Alisos Street was pretty quiet. There wasn't anything weird and traffic was normal for this time of night. After several blocks, the road started to curve to the left. Morgan's attentiveness to the road kept him from running into Seth when the latter suddenly slammed on the brakes.

The streetlight was out and there was an old beat up car in the middle of the street. Seth leaned over to Chance, "I think we can roll it far enough to get around." Then they saw shapes emerging from the darkness. Their first impression was some really big members of the El Castillos. They had the colors and the attitude. But there was something about their faces. They reminded everyone of jackals - jackals surrounding their prey.

"Saints preserve us..." Morgan whispered, fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone. Turning to Roslyn he added, "Roslyn, there's a gun under your seat and ammo in the glove compartment. Can someone call Seth and see if they have a plan?" He continued to fumble for the phone in offering, "Personally, I'm all for reversing course..."

In the hearse, Chance turned to Seth: "El Castillos - if they've seen me, they aren't going to let us leave without a fight." Then, as the light hit them better... "Man, they are some UGLY motherf..."

The rest was lost as Chance opened the door and rolled out into a crouch, shotgun up, choosing a target. "Time for some pre-emptive self defense..."

Kris rolled down her window and took aim at one of the uglys from her position behind Morgan. "Block your ears!"

Markas looked at the ugly things and tried to apply some of the lessons from the book he had been reading. He began to concentrate on protecting Chance, attempting to shape his raw will into a viable defensive force. To everyone's surprise, Chance was enveloped in a swirling blue cloud of energy.

The moment the El Castillos recognized Chance, their posture changed. Before, they had the loose stance of street thugs planning a simple mugging. Now, their weapons were held with purpose and their feral smiles promised bloodshed.

Seeing that Chance has hopped out of Seth's car, Roslyn gave up on any thought of going around and instead grabbed the gun Morgan pointed out to her. She snapped a clip into it, and then leapt out of the SUV, taking cover behind the back of Seth's hearse.

Morgan was reaching for the cell when he had heard the voice of his deceased wife Samantha, whispering in his ear. "Protect our baby," the voice said. For a moment, he sat frozen and staring, clutching the phone.

Kris somehow managed to fire the gun through the window. As the acrid smoke cleared, the passengers see one of the El Castillos turn into an expanding cloud of red mist. Kris thought she could see his boots still standing, but she wasn't sure.

The second El Castillo leapt onto the hood of the hearse and smashed the windshield with his lead pipe. Glass sprayed everywhere and Seth took a face full of little glass pebbles. Chance instinctively threw an arm up to shield his eyes.

The third El Castillo bounded forward in a very inhuman way, charging the SUV. "Someone shot El Diablo and they are going to pay!" he howled.

The fourth El Castillo gave Chance an evil grin, then shot at him through the window of the hearse. The window shattered in a hail of bullets. Inconceivably, no one was hit. Chance rolled out of his crouch and his shotgun came up, eyes gleaming with desire for some payback on the gang member in front of him. The shotgun boomed, but the discharge missed the jackal-faced thug. Meanwhile, Seth ducked down in the front seat, taking cover while he cleared his vision.

Kris fired again, landing three solid hits on an El Castillo. He blew apart, practically in mid-air. One nice thing about live targets: they are so much more gratifying than paper ones when you hit them.

The El Castillo on the hearse took another shot at Chance. "I thought you pendejos were immortal. Where are your friends now?" His first two shots came way too close, but the third shot missed by a mile. Chance returned fire, missing again. Frustrated by the unwieldy shotgun, Chance dropped it and drew his Glock. "I'll outlive you, and that's immortality enough!"

Markas' eyes darted back and forth over the seen in front of him. He moved first to kick the ugly on the hood of the car, wanting to take him down at the knees. He stopped, pulling out his gun. His concentration was still focused on the beast's kneecaps. "Let that be a lesson to you. Bad doggy!!!!!!!" he cried. Markas aimed, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The thing on the hood cried out as two of the three shots connected. It roared its rage, badly hurt but still alive. The sound of the gun going off was deafening within the confines of the car and the air was suddenly thick with smoke. The absence of the windshield helped clear the air quickly. Markas smiled in triumph despite the acrid stench.

"Man-that-is-going-to-leave-a-mark.-I-wish-I-had-some-ear-plugs.-Hey-doggy-do-you-have-some-ear-plugs?-Here-let-me-make-some.-You-sure-are-an-ugly-doggy. Die-doggy-die!"

Kris, worried about hitting the scrawny street kid trying to take aim at the thing on the hood of the hearse, stood up, leaned out of the SUV and steadied the rifle on the roof. She aimed carefully and opened fire, three shots at the last uninjured El Castillo. Two shots missed but the third connected. Hard. He spun and dropped. There was nothing much left above the shoulder level.

Roslyn poked her head up from the rear of the hearse and fired on the goon on the hood: She connected, and it howled again - its defiant voice taunting them all.

Morgan shook off his momentary fugue and looked around. "Sam?" There was no answer. He suddenly remembered that there was a gun battle going on around him and shifted the Sportage into gear, ready to roll. In the back seat, Cynthia started to cry at all the loud noises. "Daddy! Daaaadddyyy!!!" He reached back and patted her, trying to reassure her that everything was going to be all right.

The defiant El Castillo on the hood of the hearse swung his lead pipe at Seth and connected with a sickening thud. Blood streamed down the side of Seth's head, as stars and jackals danced in front of his vision.

Chance swiveled around, bringing his Glock to bear on the creature that was attacking Seth. He fired three times, connecting twice. The first shot gave the defiant creature a new hole in his back. He was dead before the second shot turned a good portion of his shoulder, torso and arm into hamburger. El Castillo gore covered the hood of the hearse.

The sudden silence was deafening, as everyone looked around for more hostiles. Finding none, there were heavy sighs of relief and the sounds of weapons being reloaded. The victors looked around at the carnage they had wrought, then quickly gathered all the weapons and ammunition they could find and prepared to move on.

Continued…