Chapter 6 Goat beard and the Mustache

“Alex Cook, Private Eye. Son to one of the Army’s most notorious generals. Brother to Lee..Lii…Lee Cook The World’s best gamer. Brother Also to Debbie Cook whose endless research, quick camera snaps, and a can-do attitude has made her a big name in Journalism. Lastly, Brother to Laura Cook, self made millionaire and perhaps the first and last word in Art- and horsies. He was the guardian to all these people and yet was currently having problems turning on the TV,” Alex Cook narrated to himself. Finally after a good hour or so, Alex finally resigned himself to the fact that the taggle-vision was never going to turn on and went to get ice to store some Dr. Pepper in.
“But how did the brave Alex Cook get into such a cushy hotel?” Alex asked the world as he walked down the hallway daring someone to answer. A small child who was walking towards him promptly ran the other way and the sight of the muttering Alex. “Well it was simple. Denis hacked into the Tag-net accounts and took one credit from 85 people and placed them in a new account that she had created. Once in the new account they were changed the credits value and tag ID so they looked genuine if someone really examined the trace closely. Then Alex just used his credit card and BAM, he had a hotel room. Identity theft, it’s a br-,” Alex was cut off by a sweet looking red mustang out the window. Admittedly it had some rust patches and some wear and tear, but Alex was firm in his belief that all red mustangs looked sweet. Inside he saw a man with a very prominent bushy grey mustache. Alex stared at the man admiring not only the car, but also the ostentatious mustache the man was styling. He himself could only grow a few little beard hairs that looked rather a lot like a red goat beard. He turned away, proud to be in the same hotel as someone with a mustang AND a mustache. After filling up on ice and returning to his room, Alex decided to tackle the TV issue once and for. He reached for the phone and dial ‘0’ for the front desk.
“Hello?” The woman working the desk answered.

“A voice answered, barely discernable as male,” Alex said to himself.

“Er, Hello?”

“’Hello sir. I seem to be having trouble operating my TV’ I said to the man as politely as I could,” Commented Alex.

“That’s too bad sir!” the woman barked into the phone, her voice lowering in anger.
Click.
“Wow that guy has issues,” explained Alex to Denise who was now safely in his leg. “Well I was hoping to get some Buffy the Next Generation in before hitting the hay, but I guess it's snooze time. Good night Denise,” with that Alex drifted off into a deep sleep.

Morning came. As he lazily walked from his bed to his bathroom, Alex scratched himself in a less then polite manner. A quick bladder drain, a shower (the first one in weeks), and a Dr. Pepper, Alex loaded up and was ready to go. As he climbed in his van Alex took Denise out.
“Recall the course to D.C. Denise,” Alex said groggily.
“Denise, isn’t that the mustang I saw last night in the hall way?” Alex inquired after they got on the highway.
Denise replied with “Exit on the right.” Alex listened and took the exit much too late. He swerved into it, almost crashing another car. After a while of driving through a tiny little town Denise told him to get back on the Highway. When he re-emerged he found himself a few cars behind the mustang.
“Denise?” he asked. “What was that all about? We are exactly where we were when we started.”
“Just follow that mustang Alex,” she answered. “I did a quick scan on that car’s plates, it's registered to a Mr. Tulls, who happens to be employed by your mother. As a gardener.”
Alex listened.
“For a long time everything was going well, when the worst happened. I finished my last Dr. Pepper, and my bladder started to feel full again,” The P.I. said to himself. “However though the task was daunting and the stakes dire, I resolved not to stop for more drinks or potty break until I felt I followed long enough.”
The two cars kept moving forward down the highway with no change in pace.
“Oh yes, it required some quick maneuvering, but I managed to stay on his tale this long.”
The two cars just kept going straight.
“Some of the nearby passengers were surely impressed with my driving skills.”
I n the next lane a little girl ran her tongue out at Alex.
“The driving went on for hours, my bladder very sore.” Narrated Alex. He had been driving long enough to play more rounds of ‘ghost’ with Denise then he could count. She always won. As the day wore on Alex could feel the pain in his stomach worsening.
By nightfall Alex was reaching the outskirts of D.C. the two cars, bright red mustang and large van, drove inconspicuously through the streets. After Alex decided he had followed the mustang long enough. He had to check on his parents now. He could find out about Tulls later. Well Denise could.

As he pulled up next to the home his parents occupied, Alex placed Denise back in his leg. He decided to park in the alleyway in the back, in case of a quick get away. Slowly he walked to the back door and walked in. The door opened to a sun room. A nice cozy little room. The walls were decorated with a yellowish paint. It was very reminiscent of pop-corn. As he reached the kitchen, a large orange room, he saw a pile of papers on the island. Moving closer Alex noted that one of the envelopes wasn’t open. It was completely blank. Alex opened the envelope and removed the paper inside. It was covered in odd symbols.
“Denise, what language is this?” He asked.

“It appears to be Aztec and some form of Chinese. I cannot translate it.”

“Okay. That’s good and useless. Probably to some of dad’s foreign friends.”

Continuing to prod his way around, Alex began to suspect he wasn’t going to find anything here. When he turned the corner however he saw something that made his stomach turn. The dead body of middle aged man wearing shorts, sun hat, and gardening gloves was lying on the ground.
“It wasn’t the first dead body I’ve seen.” Narrated the repulsed Alex. It was true. He had seen one during his war time. He continued with “and it sure as hell won’t be the last.” This might not have been true. Alex was just taking a wild guess for the sake of his narration.
“Alex? I don’t think Mr. Tulls was in that mustang earlier,” said Denise. “We should get out of here.”
“I couldn’t have agreed with her more. First though, I needed to take care of some business.”
Alex ran to the bathroom as fast as he could, and he took care of business.
Before he knew it he was back in the van looking for another hotel. When he finally found one he was so tired that he didn’t notice a custodian walking down the hall by his room with a very grey mustache.
-Lee C. Cook Read more!

Chapter 5: Tea With Amil

Tea With Amil

Even before opening her eyes, Debbie was aware of something moving in front of her. Her mind raced. Where exactly was she? She was obviously lying down on something soft, with a pillow propped behind her head but she had no idea how she got there. Finally, and with a little trepidation, Debbie tentatively opened her eyes. She was in a small dark room, lit only by a small light coming in from the next room. The door was propped open, and swayed slightly. Someone had just left. Debbie propped herself up and realized she was on a small couch. She peered around the room, which was small but cozy, obviously in someone’s home. Her TagCam had been placed carefully on an end table. Debbie slid into a sitting position and rubbed her head. She still couldn’t remember how she’d ended up here. She remembered getting off the plane in Kuwait City, and the long ride on the desert road. Was this her driver’s house? Now she remembered the hole in the fence, and the fear she’d felt in the darkness. She reached for her TagCam. It should have some answers. Debbie hit the power button, and flicked her finger across the touchscreen. She displayed the last picture. It all came back to her. Just like she had the first time she’d seen it, she couldn’t help but scream.

Someone burst into the room, summoned by her voice. Debbie managed to tear her eyes away from the image in front of her to examine the man that had entered. He was tiny and ancient; Debbie guessed he had to be at least 90. He wore a robe and house slippers, and his white hair went in all directions and seemed to come from every single hole in his head. It was hard to tell where hair and beard ended, and nose and ear hairs began. The man was holding a tray with 2 mugs on it. Their eyes met, then he nodded at the TagCam’s screen.

“I see you met Clifford.” he said. Debbie’s eyes went back to her screen. A 3 headed dog sneered back at her, his fangs dripping with slobber. His 6 eyes were angry, his fur bright red. Debbie flicked the camera off. She returned her attention to her host, unsure of what to say.

“Clifford?!” she managed to utter, breathless. It was a start anyway. The old man set the tray down in front of her and pointed to it.

“I brought you tea.” he said.

“Um, thanks.” Debbie replied “But uh, where exactly am I? Who are you? And... CLIFFORD?!”

“Pardon my manners! It’s been so long since I’ve had a visitor!” the man grabbed the second mug of tea and moved to a chair across from the couch. “My name is Amil. Amil Hefferscheffer."

“You’re the one I was coming here to see!” she said, remembering her conversation with Jessie. “I’m Debbie Cook, with the LA Times.” Hefferscheffer fidgeted in his seat.

“Press... No press... it’s why I came. No people... no press.... alone... came to be alone...” Somewhere in there he’d simply started muttering to himself. Debbie waved to remind him she was still there.

“Relax,” she said “I’m not a reporter. Just a photographer. I’m doing a project on Freedomland but got a tip that I could find you here. You created The World. I just wanted your picture. Can we get back to Clifford please?”

“That park... they should’ve stayed away. Came to be alone! Dangerous! Deus ex machina. End of the world.” Debbie watched the poor old man mutter and felt sorry for him. He’d seemed pretty sane when he first showed up with the tea, but he obviously wasn’t used to visitors. She quietly spun the TagCam around, switched it to video mode, and focused on Hefferscheffer.

“Clifford.” she repeated. “How can something like that exist?” Hefferscheffer stopped muttering, looked at her, and seemed surprised that she was still there.

“Harmless.” he said. “A pet. A guard. This place isn’t safe.”

“Why not?” Debbie asked.
“Allah Engine. Zeus Device. The unreal is real. I was there from the beginning. Created the world, destroy the world.” Debbie sighed. She was losing him again.

“The World. You created it right? Virtual reality. It’s a game, not real.”

“Reality...” Hefferscheffer scoffed “What is reality? A storybook, a movie, a game. I created The World. Am I the Alpha? Am I the Omega?”

“The World isn’t real.” Debbie replied. “You’re in the real world now. You’re just another person here.”

“If only I were.” Hefferscheffer replied. He stood up. “Clifford protects me. I am his father. The Father. But my mind... it wanders. Things happen here. Life where there should not be. Somehow it stayed with me. I made The World, and it stayed with me. I need to be alone. Danger to everyone. Isolation is the way. You need to leave.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I must’ve passed out when I saw... Clifford. Thank you for bringing me in.”

“Helpful, courteous. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Show you the door. Abandon hope, all ye who enter.”

Debbie stood up, careful to keep the camera pointed at the crazy old man. His insane ramblings sent a chill up her spine, and she was more than happy to leave.

“If you could just direct me to the road, my driver should be waiting for me.” Hopefully, she thought. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious, but Shir seemed pretty committed to his job. She doubted he’d leave her out here. As long as he hadn’t tried to follow her and run into Clifford. She gulped at the thought.

“Show you the door. Apologies. Rude host... I’m a very rude host. Will show you to the road, but you must leave. For your own good.” Hefferscheffer shuffled to the corner of the room, and came back with Debbie’s shoes. He offered them to her.

“It’s ok.” Debbie said, taking her shoes. “You’ve been very kind.” She put on her shoes and followed Hefferscheffer into the hallway. He opened the front door, and shined a flashlight into the darkness. Then it was his turn to scream.

“NO NO NO!!! You brought them here! It’s over! A pale horse!” Hefferscheffer turned and fled back into the house. Debbie switched the on her TagCam’s light and looked outside. Once again, she was met with the sight of Clifford the big red 3 headed dog. He was lying a few feet from the front door. Each of his heads had a large hole in it. Blood and brains surrounded him. Debbie slammed the door shut. Unlike most of her siblings, Debbie wouldn’t be acquiring an animal sidekick today.

Inside the cabin, the old man was suddenly manic. He sprinted to the closet, yanked it open, and began rummaging around. Debbie watched him for a few seconds as he tossed random things from the closet over his shoulder. She needed the time to gather her words, to ask just the right questions. Finally, she gave it a go.

"Who?" she asked. "Why?"

"Very simple..." Hefferscheffer muttered, not looking up from his frantic digging "Just have to follow the rules... Leave me alone if I follow the rules... I tried... I put no other Amils before me... It's over now... they're here...God is dead..." Debbie nodded.

"That didn't answer any of my questions but DID make you sound pretty crazy. Thanks for that." Debbie walked over to the window and peered out into the darkness. Something or someone had just taken out a big 3 headed dog a few feet from the front door, but it looked perfectly peaceful and serene in the dark night. She squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust. She thought maybe she saw something move in the distance, and practically pressed her face up against the glass trying to make it out. Suddenly, Hefferscheffer sprang from his position in front of the closet with surpising speed, knocking her to the floor.

"Away from the windows!" he seethed. "What're you, crazy?!" He rolled off of her and crawled back to the closet, again pulling off crazy moves for someone his age. Debbie pulled herself into a sitting position against the wall.

"Did you just accuse me of being crazy?" she asked. The doctor was already busy with his digging though. She snapped a few shots of him hunched over, slinging random things into a growing pile in the room. Finally, he straightened up.

"Aha!" he yelped excitedly. He shoved something into his pockets and turned to face her. For the first time, he locked eyes with Debbie directly. She stared into the old man's eyes, and the fear she had felt at the sight of Clifford's corpse grew. The ancient eyes, wide with panic and fear, betrayed one terrifying fact: Dr. Amil Hefferscheffer was perfectly sane. "Good... you've got your camera out." he said "Hang onto it. Things are about to get a little weird."

"Oh, thanks for the warning." Debbie replied. Her grip on the TagCam tightened. "Doctor... WHO is out there?"

"My babysitters." Hefferscheffer replied, moving carefully toward the window. He stood to the side of it and chanced a quick peek. "They keep me out of trouble... leave me alone if I follow the rules..."

"Rules?" Debbie asked.

"Rule number one... no visitors." he replied.

"Who are your babysitters? Some government group?" Debbie remembered that Jessie had said something about The World being linked to the US Government, despite Dr. Hefferscheffer being well known as the sole creator of it. "Their first instinct when someone wanders along is to start killing dogs? And about that 3 headed dog..."

"They never liked Clifford..." Hefferscheffer replied "Scared them... showed them they weren't masters of this world... things that can't exist do here... things that shouldn't be are. Because of me, you see? Now they can't let either of us leave. In the shadows... Just waiting for the order to strike."

"You have a plan to survive this?" Debbie asked, afraid of the answer. Hefferscheffer clutched his pocket. He looked at her one more time, a smile creasing his wrinkled face.

"Survive? No one can survive the end of the world." Debbie nodded. Crazy riddle-speak was indeed the answer she'd been afraid of.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. I think I might have one though. Are you, like, totally committed to dying tonight, or do you wanna give it a whirl?"

"Lucky to have made it this far..." the old man stared into the distance "If everyone's the beginning and the end, no one is... I knew the risks... I knew the rules... Omnipotent once... impotent at the end. I welcome what's next." Debbie sighed. Hefferscheffer really seemed ready to accept death. She looked up at him, and his face clouded. The wistful gaze had been replaced by steely resolve. "Then again..." He reached his hand into his pocket, feeling the object he'd unearthed from the closet. His fists tightened. "Then again, they did kill my dog." Debbie nodded, and rose to her feet.

"Turn off the lights." she said, looking over the room. "How much time you think we have?"

"Minutes, seconds, hours, days, weeks... what is time but the-"

"Sorry I asked. Please, just turn off the lights. And Doctor? Things are about to get a little weird."

"Base, this is Shue 6. We're in position. Awaiting strike order."

"Shue 6, Base. Copy that. Stand by for strike order."

"Base, Shue 6. Copy. Standing by for strike order. Shue 6 out. Shue 7, this is Shue 6."

"Go ahead Shue 6."

"Standing by for strike order from base, over."

"Roger, Shue 6."

"Shue 6 out."

"Shue 1, this is Shue 7, over."

"Shue 7, Shue 1."

"Copy last transmission, over?"

"Roger that Shue 7, awaiting strike order."

"Shue 7 out. Shue 2, this is Shue 7."

"Shue 7, 2."

"Roger Shue 2. Copy last?"

"Shue 2 Roger."

"Shue 7 out. Shue 3, Shue 7."

"Roger Shue 7."

"Shue 6, this is Base. Come in Shue 6."

"Base, Shue 6."

"Conduct radio check with squad, over."

"Loud and clear, Base."

"Base out."

"Shue 7, Shue 6. Radio check, respond in sequence over."

"Shue 6, this is Shue 7. Affirmative on the radio check, over."

"Shue 6 out."

"Shues 1 through 5, radio check, respond in sequence, over."

"Shue 1, loud and clear."

"Shue 2, got you lima charlie."

"Shue 3, roger."

"Shue 4, lickin' chicken."

"Shue 5.... shit- the lights just went out! Repeat, all the lights on the premises went out."

"Shue 6, Shue 7. Copy last from Shue 5?"

"Roger Shue 7. Base, this is Shue 6."

"Shoe 6, Base. Please maintain proper radio check protocol."

"Base, Shue 6. Repeat: premises has gone dark. They know we're here. Request permission to strike now."

"Shue 6, Base. Strike order will not be granted until all elements perform radio check. We've only got an affirmative on one through four."

"Base, Shue 6. Shue 5 called in lights out. Radio obviously functioning properly. Repeat... subjects aware of our presence."

"Shue 6, Base. COPY THAT. Strike order WILL be granted after proper radio check with squad. Copy?!"

"Base, this is Shue 6... copy that. Shue 7, Shue 6."

"Shue 6, this is Base."

"Shue 6, this is Shue 7."

"Base, Shue 6."

"Shue 6? This is Shue 7. You read me?"

"Shue 6, this is Base... instruct all elements to activate night vision sensors."

"SHUE 6, THIS IS SHUE 7. DO YOU READ?"

"SHUE 7, YES GOD DAMMIT! I'M TRYING TO TALK TO BASE! BASE, SHUE 6. ALL ELEMENTS HAVE NIGHT VISION ACTIVATED. IT IS VERY DARK OUT HERE BASE."

"Shue 6, Base. Affirmative on night vision activation. Please verify status of night vision during subsequent radio check. Base out."

"Piece of..." "Son of a..." "and turn it sideways..." "in the ear..."

"Shue 6, Base... repeat last transmission, over."

"Nothing Base. SHUE 6 OUT! ALL SHUE ELEMENTS NIGHT VISION STATUS AND RADIO CHECK GO!"

"Shue 1, Night vision go, radio go."

"Shue 2, green on night vision, loud and clear."

"Uhh... Shue 6, this is Shue 7."

"....and radio is a go."

"DAMMIT SEVEN! WHAT?!"

"....this is Shue 4..."

"Shue 6, Shue 7. Proper radio procedure dictates that-"

"with a monkey..." "3 times a day..." "in the back of a Volkwagon..."

"Shue 5?"

"Shue 6, Base."

"What..."

"Strike order granted. Move in now!"

"while wearing a clown wig..."

"Shue 6?"

"COPY BASE. All units, Shue 6. Strike order granted. Move in!"

"Shue 6, this is Shue 5... I think my batteries are dead. Anyone? Shue 5 here..."

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Debbie wasn't so sure it could work. They'd had to rearrange things a bit, shoving the couch and most of the furniture to one side of the room. On the opposite end of the room, she crouched in a small space behind a white sheet along with Dr. Hefferscheffer. The whole time they were setting up, she was sure Clifford's killers would burst in at any moment. Fortunately they seemed to be taking their time. She looked at the old man, who got her glance and grinned widely, looking crazier than ever. This was clearly an adventure to him.

The silence was shattered as the front door came crashing down. A moment later, something smashed through the window, filling the room with a bright flash that would've dazed them if they hadn't been cowering behind a sheet. Debbie tapped the tiny remote in her hand. TagCam was about to be put through its most rigorous test yet.

"MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

"ROOM CLEAR!"

"HOLD! 3, 4, 5... NEXT ROOM!"

"MOVING!"

"WHERE THE HELL IS FIVE?! DAMMIT, TWO! NEXT ROOM!" Another door smashed, and a few seconds later another cry of "CLEAR!"

"FIND THEM!" Sounds of furniture being thrown around. Someone ripped open the closet. They kicked the couch across the room. No one thought to look behind the large white sheet hanging on the opposite wall. Debbie smiled. It was actually working.

"THERE'S NO WAY THEY ESCAPED! TURN THIS PLACE UPSIDE DOWN!"

The smashing and stomping continued, with the voices growing angrier and more desperate as time passed. After a few minutes, it died down. The men were just standing around.

"Place is clear."

"Think they got Five?"

"No one got Five! They're in here somewhere!"

"DAMMIT!"

One of them fired his gun in frustration, and the bullets whizzed about a foot over Debbie's head. She gulped as everything in the room was dead silent for a second.

"What the hell..."

"Look at the wall..."

1 man's booted footsteps slowly approached the sheet. Above Debbie's head, a gloved finger poked through a bullet hole. Then a fist gently tested the sheet, which swayed under its pressure.

"What in the..."

The man standing in front of Debbie ripped at the sheet, revealing her hiding spot. She tapped her remote once more, and suddenly the TagCam, which had been projecting a 3D image of half an empty room onto the sheet, suddenly changed its display. Now a hulking image of a snarling Clifford stared down the men.

"I THOUGHT WE KILLED THAT THING!"

"OPEN FIRE!"

Debbie grabbed Hefferscheffer and dove to the ground as the soldiers all opened fire. She tapped the remote again and the image of Clifford started moving randomly across the room.

"IT'S COMING FOR ME!!"

"BULLETS AREN'T EVEN SLOWING IT DOWN!"

Debbie started crawling for the front door amidst the chaos, with Dr. Hefferscheffer a half step behind. Bullets whizzed in every direction, which wasn't exactly the outcome of a perfect plan, but with luck she thought they might make it out unscathed. She bumped into a soldier's leg, and looked up just in time to see him riddled with bullets from one of his panicked squad members. Hefferscheffer was right, Clifford really did scare them! They were practically to the door when the tiny TagCam remote in Debbie's clenched fist decided that she'd asked it to start cycling through pictures. The menacing beast charging in all directions suddenly became a tiny squirrel. Then a puppy. Then a turtle. Then two ducklings who looked like they were kissing. Then another puppy.

"IT'S A TRICK!" a soldier barked "CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! IT'S A PROJECTION!" The shooting stopped, and what was once chaos was suddenly a quiet smoky room filled with bullets, a dead soldier on the ground, and 5 more staring at Debbie. So close. The closest one grabbed her by the hair and yanked her from the floor. He gave Hefferscheffer a boot to the back for good measure, and the old man crumpled to the ground in a heap. Various 3D animals floated around uselessly.

"It's some sort of fancy projector." One of the men said, grabbing the TagCam. The one who'd told them to stop firing, obviously the leader, took it from him.

"This yours?" he asked Debbie, still restrained. He watched the pictures appear and disappear at his feet. A kitten in a basket. A grinning camel. A Koala with its baby on its back. "You sure do have a lot of pictures of animals." Another soldier bent over and yanked Dr. Hefferscheffer to his feet. The old man was gasping and wheezing for air. The leader stepped up to him.

"Been waiting for this night a long time, old man. Who's the girl?" The old man could only gasp and sputter. "Doesn't matter... thanks to her, one of my men is dead." He turned to face Debbie.

"You don't even know who you're dealing with, do you?" he asked. "You don't just come waltzing in here. People notice. People you don't want to be noticed by. No amount of silly little projector tricks are gonna get you out of this one."

"It's not a projector." Debbie replied. "It's a camera."

"Oh excuse me! Remind me though... why should I care?"

"Because when you threw the flashbang in here, I had it recording." Debbie squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could and tapped the remote. A blinding light filled the room and the soldiers, each with perfectly functioning night vision, freaked out and started ripping at their headsets. Suddenly free from the man holding her, Debbie grabbed the TagCam with one hand and Dr. Hefferscheffer's arm with the other. They were out the door not a second later.

"Which way to the road?!" Debbie demanded, supporting Dr. Hefferscheffer, who seemed to have trouble walking. He mumbled and pointed to the right, so she shuffled as quickly as she could in that direction.

"Stop..." he muttered faintly.

"Can't! They'll be right behind us!"

"No... leave me..." Debbie shook her head and pushed on, but suddenly Hefferscheffer's grip on her arm tightened. She stopped. "Dead soon anyway... you'll make it without me..."

"I can't just..."

"FREEZE!" a soldier leapt out from behind a tree in front of them, his rifle up. "6, this is 5. I've got two suspects at gunpoint. 6? 7? Base? Anyone?"

"Go..." Hefferscheffer muttered once more. "I'll make my final stand... moment of redemption... die for my own sins... Take this..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box, which he shoved into Debbie's hand. "Can't be a secret anymore... End of the world... Apocalypse soon...." The soldier was approaching them cautiously, gun still pointed.

"Umm... what are you planning on doing?" Debbie asked nervously. The old man smiled.

"Still don't believe... I was god once... you should believe... still have... a little juice left..." Hefferscheffer placed a reassuring hand on Debbie's arm, then shifted to stand without her support. "Might want to... step back a little..."

"STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!" ordered the soldier. Hefferscheffer straightened up completely, and stood rigid. A breeze picked up, sending his wild white hair in every direction. Debbie noticed she could see him perfectly despite the dark, and realized that he seemed to be glowing. The breeze turned into a wind, whipping around the three of them. Debbie took a step back. The soldier leveled his gun at Hefferscheffer's head. The wind grew. Thunder clapped in the distance. Hefferscheffer turned his head and smiled at Debbie.

"I was the Creator... that sticks with you..." he turned back to the soldier. "May not be god anymore..." Thunder boomed overhead "Just old man... with a lot of wrath." A blinding flash of lightning cracked right in front of them, frying the soldier. He slumped to the ground in a charred heap. The old man turned around to face his cabin, what had been his home, where the soldiers inside were starting to recover. He lifted his hands and the ground cracked in front of him. All around the cabin, the ground tore into shards. Earth swayed and shifted, engulfing the small cabin. It slid into a fault, and was soon buried under rock and dirt. Hefferscheffer relaxed, and immediately stopped glowing. Debbie caught him before he fell to the ground.

"You... umm..." she didn't know what to say "You could've told me you could do that before!"

"Didn't think... Still had it in me... haven't tried anything in years..." Again, Debbie had countless questions, and again, she struggled to articulate them.

"How?" she asked "Why?" The old man smiled and reached out to tap the wooden box he had given her.

"Take it... Land of the Free..."

"Take it to America?" Debbie asked. Hefferscheffer shook his head.

"Closer." he said. Then he died in her arms. Debbie laid him gently on the ground, and looked at the destruction around her. In a daze, she stumbled through the darkness in the direction of the road. After a few minutes of walking, she froze. A man stood alone in front of her. He was clearly looking for someone. She called up the flashbang video on the TagCam, but knew she wasn't up for another fight in her current state. Her only hope was that he wouldn't notice her. The man took a few steps in her direction and froze. Dismay filled her, she'd clearly been spotted. Finally, the man spoke.

"Ms. Debbie?! Ms. Debbie is that you?!"

"SHIR!" Debbie ran to her driver and embraced him.

"My apologies, Ms. Debbie. I tried to come looking for you but could not get through the fence. Then I saw lightning storm, and felt the earth move. Then I saw hole in fence. I swear it was not there before..."

"I believe you." Debbie said. "Let's get out of here."

A few minutes later, and Debbie was back in the rear seat of the cab. It felt like she hadn't been there in months; it felt like home to her. Shir climbed into the driver's seat.

"Shall I take you back to the hotel, Ms. Debbie?" She shook her head.

"No, Shir..." The sun was starting to come up now, the horizon glowed with a faint red light. "I think it's time we go where I was supposed to go in the first place.

"Freedomland?" Shir asked. "Now?" Debbie nodded.

"Freedomland. Now." She said. Shir started the car and they were on their way. Debbie set the TagCam aside, thinking briefly about all the wonderful things she had to say about it in her review, and examined the little wooden box Dr. Hefferscheffer had given her in his last minutes on earth. It was small and plain. Unpainted, unfinished wood with a small clasp on the front. She undid the clasp. In the distance, a giant Statue of Liberty jutted into the desert sky atop the world's largest roller coaster. Debbie opened the box.

Things were about to get a little weird.

"Shue 6, this is Base, come in Shue 6. Any Shue element, come in. Repeat, ANY Shue element, report! Over!"

A few miles away, in a secret underground bunker, underneath the world's tallest rollercoaster, a very angry radio operator slammed down his headset.

"Someone really needs to talk to these guys about conducting the proper radio checks!"

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Chapter 4- Chances

Chapter 4- Chances

On the first floor the Smiths were arguing yet again. Mrs. Smith hated his old leather La-Z-Boy and demanded that her husband remove it immediately from the apartment. “Damn it, woman, I’m moving as fast as I can!” whined Mr. Smith as he dragged his long beloved chaise from the apartment.

“Well the garbage truck comes this evening and I don’t want that thing sitting out front for a whole week!”

“Yeah, yeah” Mr. Smith grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” His wife demanded shrewdly.

“I said…yes, dear.”

“That’s what I thought I heard. You’ll be glad to be rid of that thing,” she eyed it suspiciously “when we have more living room space. You’ll see. No need for that good for nothing piece of junk.” She watched him struggle out the door for a moment before returning inside.

Though it pained him to lose it (after all, the chair had been with him since his chummy college days), Mr. Smith had agreed to let his wife redecorate the living room after their last argument. He had not quite anticipated her demanding that he be rid of his favorite chair. He was pretty sure he could talk her into letting him get a new one; one that was not old and worn, and would match the new décor.

Having finally finagled it to the sidewalk, he stopped and leaned against it to catch his breath.

“LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUT!”

Mr. Smith glanced up and dove swiftly out of the way as young man whose sandy blond hair looked overgrown and disheveled (reminding Mr. Smith distinctly of one of the Beatles, except a less cool version) plummeted towards the concrete. A split moment later he heard a loud thud and hesitated to lift his eyes to the mangled mess he expected to find, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. There sat the scruffy kid in his old chair.

“Huh.” The young man glanced up at the window he’d just fallen from. “What are the chances of that happening?”

“Not huge.”

“Thanks, man!” The kid got up, shook his hand, and dashed down the street. Mr. Smith watched him go then lovingly shuffled his chair back towards his door. Good for nothing, his rear.

He closed the door just as two large menacing figures barreled outside, hot on the Beatle’s trail.

TEN MINUTES LATER

Lee thought he’d lost them. He dipped into a local shop for a refreshing can of “OrangeLee Glad I Didn’t Say Banana” and exited out the back alley to avoid being seen. As he sipped on his energetic and delicious beverage, he wondered what to do next. Who were Hammer and Nails, why did they want him, and how could Lee get himself to the NintendOlympics? His passport and other items were back at his place. Could he risk returning to retrieve them?

He might have to, but he’d need protection. It was one thing to take on thugs in The World, and another in real life. Where could he go to get help? He could think of numerous friends he could call on, but most of them had hair shaggier than his, so who could he trust? Great, thought Lee. What now?

He hurried down the alley, eager not to stay in one place to be caught. Just as he was turning the grimy corner onto a street that smelled like greasy Chinese food, Lee heard a rustling. It started faintly then grew louder and came from somewhere to his right. Lee spun around with his arms up ready to defend himself- he knew a good bit of Tai kwon do- but there was no one there. The rustling stopped. Unsure, Lee stepped forward again to leave the alley and heard the rustling once again. He tilted his head to listen; it was more of a scraping than a rustle. He looked again to his right and down to the ground and there amid a pile of garbage and old newspaper, saw a flash of red. “What the…” Lee bent and quickly snatched up the newspaper, ready for an attack.

On the ground, barely discernable through the filth, huddled a quivering creature just barely larger than the size of Lee’s callused fist. “Aw, hi there little buddy.” Lee crouched down and scooped the terrified creature into his hands. “This is no place for a cutie like you.” The animal beamed up at him with wide beady eyes, his orange and black fur a matted mess. “It’s ok, you’re not the only homeless one.” Lee told him, thinking back to his invaded apartment. “Come on,” he said, tucking the guinea pig safely in his oversized pockets. “I’ll call you Ike. Ike Kush. Let’s get somewhere safe.”

There was one friend Lee could trust to at least feed him and keep him for the night so he could plan his return to his apartment to retrieve his belongings. No way was he going to miss the NintendOlympics. He’d waited for it his whole life and a couple of pair of thugs with a convenient namesake wasn’t going to take it from him.

On the street again, Lee paid a kid ten bucks for the use of his skateboard and sped down the sidewalk towards his favorite guitar shop master, careful not to jostle Ike in his pocket. The animal was oddly calm, he though, for being stuffed into a large pocket and raced off on a skateboard. Lee knew his old Tae kwon do master would be at the guitar shop this time of day. They frequently met there to jam. If nothing else, they could play a couple tunes before the old man helped him devise a way to get safely to Tokyo.

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FOC

At baseball some dudes were talking about flight of the choncs and I totally pulled out the "I'm going to go see them" card. Read more!

Chapter 3: I'm tired.

Alex eyed the Dallas policeman in his rearview mirror as the cop walked up to the car window. He had some scruff on his chin, which always made Alex a little jealous; the only facial hair he could grow were tiny red hairs on the tip of his chin. The cop was pretty hefty-looking. He had a bit of a beer belly on him, but those meaty arms looked like they could definitely do some damage. This was clearly not a man one would want to mess with; unfortunately, Alex tended to unintentionally mess with people quite often. The cop knocked on the window. Alex rolled it down and looked up.

“Hi, sir. Howya doin?” he asked.

“Fine,” the cop replied indifferently. “License and registration, please.”

“Denise, if you would be so kind as to open the glove box, that’d be dandy.” Denise complied, and Alex grabbed the items. He handed them through the window to the looming cop. The cop examined them.

“Hmm…you realize why I’ve pulled you over, I assume,” he said.

“I glanced at the cop, trying to read what was underneath the unintelligent-looking exterior,” Alex self-narrated. “His tone of voice was forgiving enough. I knew if I played my cards right I might be able to weasel my way out of a ticket.” And then, “Yes sir, I ran over the curb. I’m sorry, I’m just in a big rush and made a mistake. It won’t happen again.” It was then that Alex noticed the officer’s nametag: Ericson. “As I looked at his nametag I found the name very fitting for this man. This guy looked like he could be some kind of Viking; kind of bulky and dumb-looking.”

The cop stared at Alex blankly.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

A little slower than last time, Alex repeated himself. “I said, it won’t happen again.” And then in self narration: “I realized this cop must be as dumb as he looked.” The cop continued to stare at Alex a moment longer, then glanced back at the license in his hand.

“Alex Cook, eh?” he asked.

“Yes sir, Alex Cook.”

The officer looked back at Alex in a strange way.

“Alright, I’ll let you go with a warning this time,” he said, and took one last glance at Alex. He then walked away without another word, and Alex watched him climb back into his police cruiser.

“It was a strange occurrence. I felt as if that cop had known something I didn’t. Although, I highly doubted that could be true, and decided to move on. I put my car into drive, and pulled onto the road.”

The next few hours on the long drive to DC went smoothly.

“Denise, find me the nearest Taco Bell, please,” he said at around seven as his stomach grumbled.

“Calculating route, Alex. Please take the next exit,” Denise replied.

“You’re the best, Denise. You always know how to take care of me.”

“You told me to find the Taco Bell, Alex. I was simply following orders.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Denise…can’t you just go along with- never mind. I just want some delicious tacos.”

Ten minutes later, the pulled up to the restaurant and squeezed into a spot next to some crappy-looking red mustang. Alex opened the glass door at the entrance and walked up to the counter to order his food.

“I walked up to the counter, where a largely obese woman stood. I ordered my usual and waited for the large woman to ask for my money.” The woman behind the cash register looked at Alex.

“I ain’t psychic, mister,” she said. “You better tell me your usual before my largely obese self kicks your skinny white butt outta here,” she told Alex in a tone dripping with attitude. The lady didn’t have many facial expressions; it appeared to Alex as if she hadn’t set foot outside of that Taco Bell for at least…thirty years or so.

“Right,” he started. “I’ll have one bean burrito, two tacos, and a small drink.” He had been trained growing up to only get small drinks at restaurants. His father always lectured his kids about how you can get just as much to drink with a small for a lower price than a large; it was free refills, after all. The rotund woman’s eyes shifted ever so slightly away from Alex as she shouted to someone in the back.

“Monica! You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it! You don’t need to be yellin’ in here with customers at the counter!” a voice unseen to Alex replied. The large lady’s eyes moved back to him.

“Four dollars, five cent,” she said.

Cents, Alex wanted to correct. For once, however, he held himself back. He felt he had very little wiggle room with this woman, and he needed his Taco Bell. He certainly did not want his skinny white butt kicked out before he got his food.

“I handed her the money, biting my tongue about her annoying grammar mistake,” he said. He looked at the obese lady’s face, and saw a very unamused look upon it. She grabbed the money from Alex’s outstretched hand and put it in the register without breaking eye contact. He smiled boyishly at her. She rolled her eyes and began waddling away.

“Crazy white boy comin’ in here trying to tell me how to talk,” she muttered under her breath, as she disappeared into the back. Alex reached over the counter and cautiously grabbed the small cup the portly woman had failed to hand to him. He walked to the drink fountain and filled his cup to the brim with Dr. Pepper. Then he turned around to find a place to sit. It was not a difficult task; there were only two other people there. One was a short blonde lady who sat reading a book as she ate her nachos. The other was a man of about forty who had a fluffy gray mustache. Just before Alex began contemplating his jealousy for that mustache, the man stood up, threw his trash away, and left. Alex sat a few seats away from where mustache man had been sitting and sipped on his drink. A few moments later bad grammar woman returned.

“Forty-three,” she said in that attitude-filled tone and returned to the back before verifying that someone heard her. Alex walked to the front and grabbed the tray filled with his dinner. He grabbed some fire sauce from a bucket on the way back to his chair. After sitting down and smothering his meal with the fire sauce, he ate it. After sitting for about ten minutes enjoying the satisfaction Taco Bell gave him, he stood up. He hiked his pants up a little and grabbed his drink. He refilled it, then dumped his tray into a big trash can which read “Thank You.” He left the Taco Bell and walked to his van, where he immediately spotted a large ding on its door. He sighed, frustrated. The crappy red mustang was gone, and the ding was speckled with red paint.

“I looked around for any sign of the culprit, but had no luck. I supposed it was time for a good night’s rest; my adventure was only beginning. I needed all the rest I could get for whatever difficult tasks lay ahead of me.” Alex cringed once as he looked at the ding again, and then climbed into the van. “Denise,” he said, “take me to the nearest Holiday Inn. I’d prefer it to be an Express. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” Denise began calculating the route for a Holiday Inn. “You really are always there for me, Denise.”

“But Alex-“

“No, no, Denise. No need to reply. Just take me to the hotel.” And so Denise did. As he pulled into the parking lot, Alex yawned and rubbed his tired eyes.

“It’s been an exhausting day of driving, wouldn’t you say?” he asked Denise.

“I suppose so, Alex,” she replied. “Would you like me to prepare a route for tomorrow?”

“Just stick to DC. We should be able to make it by tomorrow night if we drive all day.” Alex climbed out the van and walked around back to grab some clothes for the next day. He got what he needed, and groggily walked across the parking lot and into the hotel lobby to check in.

His grogginess was perhaps the reason he didn’t notice a crappy red mustang sitting a few rows away from his own vehicle. In that crappy red mustang sat a man with a bushy gray mustache.

I couldn't remember what you wanted us to do to post the chapters so I'm deciding to not really care. Also, I'm too tired to read through this so if there are any swill mistakes I'll fix em later. There ya go uggo...DONE my chapter.
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I got quite a bit of my chapter done during school today. Instead of doing actual school work...jerks.

I'm typin it up now and I'll post it once I finish the whole thing, which should be tomorrow.
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I think you should change it. To A Novel Happening... eventually. Read more!