*LONE GUNMEN:
POS*

*4 of 5*

 

*
*

	

*LGHQ, TUESDAY - 1:00 P.M.*

Impossible as it was to believe, Frohike had only known Edwina Norton
for seven days.

Watching her bustle around Langly with hot soup and solicitude, Frohike
was struck with the feeling that they'd been together much, much longer.
He didn't buy into that previous life bullshit, but nevertheless the
impression remained. The way she moved her hands when she talked, and
flashed her little dimple around when she was flirting, the sound of her
laugh and how she got all still and focused when she was disturbed or
about to launch into a scold ... Frohike felt an emotional and physical
response to Ed that seemed seasoned with a much longer association then
they'd actually had.

Langly was sucking up, answering her questions about his experience in
the CRD. She was intrigued by the philosophic implications of Esther's
existence, and kept pressing Langly on whether Esther could understand,
accept and deal with what had been done to her.

"I know why Mad Jack said we wouldn't have to return the box." Ed
cleared the table, and brought Langly yet another glass of milk. "We
have to get Esther out, then destroy it."

"Maybe," Frohike certainly didn't plan to call SLI and ask for a pickup
order number. "I'd give a lot to get the sucker open and see what's
running the thing."

Ed shook her head. "You'll know what to do when the time comes." She
grinned at him, and flashed her dimple. "You're talented that way."

"Puh-lease. Easily-grossed-out-person here." Langly pushed his glasses
up the bridge of his nose and made the universal sign for 'ick!' by
sticking out his tongue.


	

"How old is he?" Ed asked. She slapped Langly gently on the arm as she
passed. "He appears to be back to normal, whatever that is for him."

"I don't think normal is one of the measurements on the geekometer,"
Frohike said, ignoring Langly's arm gesture. "I'll get another pill,
then see if Byers is at a good place to break."

Byers had remained behind to work on the Gunman layouts while Frohike
and Ed walked with Langly. Byers was a perfectionist, but usually made
good time when he worked alone. Frohike expected the paper would be
nearly ready to ship to press, in spite of their extracurricular
activities. They'd get Esther out, decide what to do about the box, and
life would continue on its mind-bogglingly unpredictable journey.

He lifted the floorboard; the sound of the door buzzer startled him so
much he jerked his hand against the board. "Crap." A bunch of slivers
prickled the tender flesh along the edge of his right palm. Frohike
tried to pick them out; he gave up after only a couple came loose. That
had to be Jimmy, he thought as he selected a pill, then closed the safe.
He'd considered calling and sending Jimmy on an errand, but time had
gotten away from him, and now it was too late.

Yeah, that was Jimmy's voice, rising with good-natured excitement.
Frohike rubbed his hand against his jeans as he walked back to the
kitchen, wondering if they had any peroxide left in the bathroom.
Thoughts of first-aid expanded when he saw Jimmy, standing near the
table, holding Ed in a classic over-the-threshold cradle grip. Ed was
dangling her feet, one arm around Jimmy's neck, giggling in a most
unbecoming way for a mature woman of 50.

"Put her down. Now." Frohike felt his chest expanding. "What the hell
are you doing, Jimmy?"

"Frohike! She's so cute! She's such a little thing, and I said to Langly
-- I could pick her up with one hand -- and Langly said, bet you can't
-- and he was half right, I can pick her up with one, but it takes two
to hold her ..."

"Put. Her. Down." If he hadn't been about to strap Langly into a chair
and send him alone and unarmed into unknown peril, Frohike would have
walked around the table and wiped the shit-eating grin off Langly's face
with his fists.

"Well, sure." Jimmy set Ed back on her feet. "No need to panic. I'm not
moving in on your girlfriend."

"They're shooting sled dogs in the Antarctic, Jimmy." Frohike saw Langly
bailing for the safety of Byers. Ed half-turned away, holding her hand
over her face, which meant she was laughing her ass off. Later, when
they were alone, he'd ask her to explain the humor of situation.

"That's cold!" Jimmy looked predictably distressed.

"Yeah. We need you to go check it out for us. If you hurry, you should
be able to get a flight this afternoon." Frohike saw Ed's shoulders
shake more noticeably, but no sound emerged.

"Don't I need details? Am I going alone? Can I say goodbye to Byers?"
Jimmy was off after Langly with a bounce.

"He's a very nice young man," Ed said; her face was flushed and her eyes
were gleeful. "Is it Jimmy -- or is it me?"

Frohike rolled his eyes and gathered her into his arms. "Neither. It's
me." He paused. "Okay, I lied. It's Jimmy."

"You're worried about Langly," Ed said, blowing against his earlobe.
"Don't stress. After we're done with the box, I'll give you a nice massage."

"Deal. And I'll show you my lava lamp." He felt her laugh, and snuggle
against him. Frohike closed his eyes and enjoyed the way her hair
smelled and felt against his face, the swell of her hip as it spooned
into the curve of his side, the way he remembered touching the velveteen
softness of her breasts.

The temperature in the kitchen seemed to climb by about 20 degrees.
"Look at me, Ed."

Laughter disappeared as she tipped her head back so she could see his
face, her eyes behind the wire rims going wide and serious. She offered
her mouth without moving toward him, and Frohike took it with a groan,
knowing it was the wrong place, the wrong time, and wondering if the
kitchen table would withstand a good banging around.

"Excuse me." Jimmy was back. "Oops. Sorry. I'll leave you two alone ..."

"No. It's okay." Frohike let go of Ed. She dropped into a chair, took
off her glasses and began industriously cleaning them on a napkin.

"It's just ... Byers said they don't use sled dogs in the Antarctic,
they use these big machines. Did you want me to go to the Arctic, or are
they shooting machines ... or is this just a ruse to get me out of the
way so you and Ed can neck?" Jimmy snapped his fingers, proud of his own
cleverness.

"You got me, Jimmy." Later, Byers would get an earful, too. "We're
working on something important."

"I know. The box. Byers filled me in. I want to help, what can I do?"
Jimmy asked, face transparently eager.

"You're in charge of the office." With any luck, that would keep Jimmy
out of their hair, Frohike thought. "Answer the phone, and clean the
kitchen."

"I can do that." Jimmy's face clouded. "Can I get a look at Langly in
the headset first?"

"No problem. If you want, you can help put him into it," Frohike said,
smiling.

 

*TUESDAY - 1:30 P.M.*

"No CD," Langly said. "I don't want the distraction."

"You sure? Won't it be disorienting without some kind of physical
reference?" Frohike shook his head. "I don't like it."

"I wish I could say I know what I'm doing, but I'm winging it here."
Langly jerked against the wiring, and drew a protest from Byers.

"Wouldn't it be better to run something challenging?" Ed said
tentatively. "This is your area, not mine, but if the CRD isn't running
a scenario, doesn't that leave more of its resources free to fight your
shrew?"

"That's ... possible ..." Langly looked from Ed to Frohike, surprise and
reevaluation apparent.

"I take back the stupid-remark crack," Frohike said quietly, for Ed
alone to hear. He raised his voice, "It wouldn't hurt to proceed on that
assumption. What's good for you?"

They decided on the CD labeled 'ocean beach'; as Langly said, there
might be a lot of water, but no heights were involved, and he'd be
careful not to stand under the cocoanut trees. Frohike ran through one
last check before giving the drug to Langly. He'd cut the dose to half
of what he'd given Langly before. Frohike hoped it would do the job and
wear off quickly; the idea of sentencing Langly to a second longer then
necessary in the box when all virtual hell might be breaking loose was
tempting, but went beyond payback.

"After you're under we wait 10 minutes, then go on-line." Frohike saw
Byers nod agreement. "Everything else is like last time, we watch Byers'
monitor and be ready to yank the headset if anything goes wrong."

"Let's do it." Langly held out his hand for the drug.

 

*ON THE BEACH*

Langly could hear surf, smell salt on the steady wind that fingered
through his hair, and feel the grainy coarseness of sand cutting into
his hands and forearms before he opened his eyes. He was laying on his
back, on the beach. Overhead the lacy fronds of a cocoanut tree danced
in the sea breeze.

*No lag this time,* Langly thought. Sensory imagery had been immediate.
He wasn't sure this was a good thing; it might mean the box had the
combination to his head.

Langly shivered, and sat up. The beach was beautiful, a long clear
stretch of sugared sand scalloped by creamy swells of water that
advanced, retreated, advanced ...

"Esther!" He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, first in one
direction, then another. "Esther!"

No answer.

"Going for a walk here," Langly told the nearest cocoanut tree. The
water looked lovely, but potentially dangerous. Langly turned and walked
inland, avoiding cocoanut trees and the large scarlet flowers that grew
in clumps a few feet away from the sand line. The flowers gave him the
creeps; deeply ruffled like double roses, each flower seemed to turn
against the wind and watch him as he passed.

"Esther! Esther!" He shouted again, but his voice was lost in the
constant wind.

She might have had another episode of hysteria, Langly thought. She had
to be here somewhere.

He was following what looked like a spacious natural trail of firm sand.
Vegetation grew thicker as he walked, forming an arched tunnel of
greenery overhead. There had been no wildlife -- except for Esther -- in
the last scenario. Langly hoped that held true here. The place looked
like a potential snake-pit, or great ape haven. He should have stuck
with the meadow.

Another odor, elusive and faint, stopped him in his tracks as he tried
to identify the acrid smell. Something, somewhere, was burning.
Reluctantly he maintained his inland direction.

"Oh man." Langly pulled up short at the edge of the clearing where the
trail ended. "I've been dumped into a TV set. I *hate* tiki torches. And
stone altars. And ... Esther!"

Esther was curled in a fetal ball near the slab of gray-green stone that
dominated the clearing's center. She was stiff and silent when Langly
touched her shoulder.

"Come on, come on," Langly forced himself to push her hair away from her
face and pat her cheeks. It was like touching a corpse, he thought with
a shudder. "Wakey, wakey!"

"Langly?" Esther opened her eyes and let out a wail.

Langly lurched away from her. He tripped, landed on his butt, and found
he could still put distance between them by using his feet to scoot his
body backward over the smooth sand.

"You look like a crab," Esther said, uncurling her arms and legs. She
stood up and inspected the clearing. "I hate this place. Are you getting
me out?"

"We're working on it. The CRD should be on-line soon." Langly stood. He
brushed the sand off his jeans with a grimace. "How are you feeling?"

She gave the question some thought; her finger absently traced the
ragged spots on her tee. Langly saw the black fabric flow together, the
holes disappear.

"Nerve endings aren't everything. Hormonally driven emotions aren't
everything. You're still living in the dawn of time, Langly, letting an
inefficient, work-intensive organic stew control how you function. How
am I -- feeling? Frustrated and cranky."

"I know that feeling." He wouldn't get too close to her, Langly decided,
moving to put the stone altar between them. "Do we just wait?"

"Exist. Be. Shut up." Esther placed her hands palm down on the altar,
closed her eyes and tipped her head back toward the sky. "Oh baby, we've
got foreplay." When she lowered her head and opened her eyes, they were
ringed with black, and the expression on her face pierced Langly like a
knife. She offered him her hand across the stone. "Help me out, here;
it's going to be a rush."

"Oh. Shit." Langly's fingers trembled until he touched her. The
resulting earthquake gave him something bigger to worry about.

"Focus." The jungle behind Esther melted into a matt, black background.

Langly swung his head around, panicked by the visual impression he was
standing on an island bound by tiki torches, surrounded by the maw of
nothingness.

"Get me out." Esther let go of his hand, and his attention jerked back
to her. She pointed at the keyboard that had somehow materialized on the
altar.

"With just a keyboard?" Lambent flashes of dark green were streaking
through the black, like neon tadpoles chasing their tails. Langly made a
resolution to thank Ed for not letting him go into the deck without
something to ground him.

"It's only a symbol, nerd boy. Get with the program." Her voice was
cocky, insolent; the nose ring Langly remembered from their first
meeting had reappeared. Esther saw him looking at it, flicked it with
her finger.

"Yeah. The jerk off made me lose it. Didn't comply with his joy toy
parameters. Now -- get busy."

Langly put his hands on the keyboard.

 

*THE REAL WORLD, 1:45 P.M.*

"We're on-line." Frohike stood next to Langly's body, working on the
Mac. "How's he looking?"

"Heart rate all over the place," Byers said quietly. "Up and down."

"What now?" Ed stood back, giving them plenty of space. Her face and
voice were grave, uneasy.

"We wait." Frohike stepped over the mass of cabling carefully, and took
up his station between Langly and Byers. "I thought you said you
believed Mad Jack."

"I did. I do," Ed said. "Mad Jack didn't tell me the middle of the
story, only the resolution. A lot of bad things can happen in a story
before the happy ending."

"Ed," Byers' voice was nearly a whisper, "I'm worried enough."

She didn't answer. Frohike glanced back; she was standing next to Byers,
her hand on his shoulder in silent support. He caught her eye, and
nodded his thanks.

"If they can do it at all, it shouldn't take long," Frohike said. He
rubbed his hand against his jeans again, the slivers were itching like
crazy. A quick glance showed a two-inch-long angry red spot on his palm.
He wished he could go soak his hand, drink a cup of coffee, and talk to
Ed for a while. He wished they could bury the box in the same place
Jimmy Hoffa had been planted, and call it a day.

He rubbed his hand again, wincing at the irritating discomfort.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Ed asked.

"Slivers." Frohike held the side of his palm toward her for a moment.
"It itches."

"Good grief. That looks infected. Don't you have anything to put on it?"
She sounded indignant.

"I'm not going to lose my hand, Ed. It just happened. When we're done ..."

"Do you have first aid supplies?" she asked Byers, ignoring Frohike's
protest.

"In the bathroom," Byers said.

"Where's the bathroom?" Ed headed away from them, on a mission.

"Jimmy will show you." Byers grinned at Frohike. "You're doomed."

Byers' face looked younger with the worry lines smoothed over by a
smile, Frohike thought. It made him feel guilty; there had been so
little real joy in Byers' life lately.

"It's okay, Frohike. You don't have to feel guilty about being happy."
Byers' face was serene, even though the depths of his eyes still held
their orphan puppy look.

"I'm that transparent?" Frohike shrugged, embarrassed.

"Frohike ..." The beep of the monitor was picking up speed. "This is the
highest it's been."

"Your call," Frohike took a step closer to Langly's reclining body.
Unlike the previous session, Langly's arms and legs were perfectly
still, almost rigid. "Say the word and I'll yank the headset." From the
corner of his eye Frohike saw the change in the Mac's monitor. "Byers
... the CD shut down."

"Maybe Esther's broken the ICE."

"Maybe the box is fighting them. We need to give Langly every chance
..." In the distance, Frohike heard the door buzzer.

"Heart rate still climbing," Byers said. "I'm not going to let it go
much further."

Frohike turned and took a deep breath. "Jimmy! Don't open the door!" he
shouted as loudly as he could. He thought he heard Jimmy yell 'okay'
back at him, and his eyes and attention returned completely to Langly.

 

*AN ISLAND IN THE HEART OF THE UNIVERSE*

He'd never felt anything like it; it was better than any state of
altered consciousness he'd ever experienced, including the first time
he'd watched Alien -- after sharing a hasty joint with his friends in
his old man's Ford pickup. Fear, anticipation, curiosity, grace, power;
he felt Langly peel away like a husk as the newly discovered, and most
potent, Langly-essence stepped out to do battle.

The tiki torches had disappeared as the island shrank to a three-foot
extension around the altar. Colors oozed into patterns as if they were
the center of a vast kaleidoscope, or the nexus of some amazing road
whose arteries branched like spilled pickup sticks from a giant can.
Langly had started with the keyboard; it seemed barely a minute or two
before he knew the truth of Esther's remark. It was only a symbol. He
could talk to the box without it.

Esther watched him, smiling. "You're doing great; I think you're
annoying it. That itch it feels isn't just you. Baby's coming. Esther
/sideways eight/ is coming." She pointed at a spot in the whirling
maelstrom of rainbow light. A bit of white was growing, all color
merging into continuity.

"I'm going to look around for more of these juicy toys when I get out,"
Esther said. Her teeth looked unnaturally sharp when she parted her lips
and touched her tongue against them. "Baby can crack them, and I'll
scramble them for breakfast. Ah ..."

She was beautiful and awful. Her clothing had disappeared, but her body
was smooth, genderless. Her nose and mouth had become a sculptured sweep
of silver, and her eyes were black wells that opened to the colors of
the universe. The outline of her form glowed with glittering neon that
fell in curtains of aurora from her outstretched hands.

*Thank you. I remember you now. You're not such a moron.*

"You're Esther /sideways eight/?" Langly-essence longed to take her
hand, to touch the substance of her new flesh.

*All Esther knew, I know. Baby is almost done crunching the toy. Would
you like to come with us? Would you like to exist as velocity and
knowledge, order and wonder?*

*Could I?* Fear and joy collided, and desire flew from his heart like a
startled moth. *I could!*

The last piece of island that stood in the heart of the universe
crumbled and disappeared.

 

*THE REAL WORLD - 1:55 P.M.*

"There's something wrong! Pull it!" Byers' chair clattered backward as
he stood. "Now Frohike!"

"Move and I shoot the kid."

Frohike froze, and looked over his shoulder. Jimmy stood a couple of
feet away from Byers with his hands on his head. Butch was in back of
him, one hand on Jimmy's shoulder, the other aimed a handgun just behind
Jimmy's ear. For a split second Frohike couldn't absorb the
improbability of the sight.

"I gotta do this Butch. Langly could die." Frohike took another step
toward Langly. The deafening roar of a gun being discharged in a
cluttered basement dissuaded him from continuing. He turned quickly,
dreading the worst.

Jimmy held his ears, wincing at the shock of the noise. He appeared to
be unharmed. Frohike decided at that moment that if everything turned
out okay, he'd kill the kid himself. Forget Old Yeller, they'd taken
Cujo into their home. Now they were losing Langly, and if he saved
Langly someone else would be harmed. Frohike looked to Byers, silently
begging for any help or hope he could offer.

Byers shook his head.

"Damn it, Jimmy. What did I tell you?" Langly wasn't the only problem,
Frohike thought frantically. Ed would have heard the shot. Any moment
she'd come running out of the bathroom ...

"You told me to open the door," Jimmy said faintly.

"Don't! Don't! Don't open the door, you numbskull." Frohike could hear
the alarm on the monitor chiming. They didn't have much time.

"Back off, nice and easy." Butch looked around Jimmy at the Mac and the
box, and Langly's body in the chair. "What's going on here, a little
Matrix shit? Or something naughty?" He kicked Jimmy in the back of his
knee, and Jimmy folded. "On your stomach. Wedge your head under that
desk, then put your hands up on the small of your back -- and keep them
there," Butch demanded. "Good, now I got a clear shot at the munchkin.
You coulda just given me the name of your supplier. It woulda been,
like, a courtesy."

"You want the drugs? You'd come in here with a gun just for a few
drugs?" Byers was outraged. He stepped toward Butch, his hands clenching
into fists.

"You've always been nice to me, Byers. Don't make me shoot you," Butch
said. "You get on your stomach, too, head under just like Jimmy, with
your hands up on your back. Melvin, I'm going to sit down next to Keanu
Reeves there, and keep my gun in the middle of his stomach until you get
back with the drugs."

"You don't get to call me Melvin," Frohike said. "And Langly will be
dead, so a gutshot will be merely a cosmetic problem ... unless you let
me pull that headset off him."

"No can do, Melvin." Butch laughed with a wheezing, wet sounding series
of noises. "I wanna see just how fast those little legs of yours will
move. Go get the drugs."

Frohike looked beyond Butch, beyond the gun. A flash of pink had come
and gone so quickly he thought -- he hoped -- he had imagined it. If
Langly died, if Ed got hurt ... his guts were twisting with the horror
of the situation. He'd have to make a dive for Butch when he passed, try
to knock the gun out of his hand.

"Okay. I'm going." Frohike said, stepping toward Butch.

"Frohike! The monitor," Byers yelled from under the desk.

The alarm had stopped. Frohike could hear the monotone signal that
indicated total lack of a heart beat.

"Now!" Butch yelled. "I --"

"Don't move. That's a Glock shoved up between your legs." Ed's voice,
almost unrecognizable due to the amount of venomous anger, carried
clearly to Frohike and the men on the floor. "Drop the gun or your 'nads
will be dog food."

Butch froze, his eyes changing from piggish amusement to owlish surprise
in a heartbeat. Frohike didn't wait for him to come to a decision. He
covered the distance between them in three steps, took the gun from
Butch's hand, and cold cocked him. Butch crumpled into a substantial
pile at Ed's feet.

Frohike looked at her, at the bottle of hydrogen peroxide in her hand,
then turned and ran to pull the headset off Langly.

 

*THE UNIVERSE*

Esther and Baby were gone, but Langly-essence knew he could find them.
It would be as easy as taking a walk, to surf one of those colored leys
and causeways that gridded the universe. Even if he didn't find her
right away, it wouldn't matter. Infinity beckoned with spun-sugar-candy
promise; an act of will would start the journey. He hesitated because
memory indicated Langly-husk might object to the exploration.

*Let your soul and spirit fly ...* The Universe told him Langly-husk had
given the okay to go.

 

*TUESDAY - 2:00 P.M.*

The door buzzer shrilled as Frohike yanked the headset and began
stripping wires off Langly.

"Jimmy ... help me get him on the floor ... Byers -- portable defib ..
Ed push that shit out of the way ..." Frohike had Langly half out of the
chair before Jimmy grabbed Langly's legs. Together they moved him.
Frohike tried to ignore the fact Langly felt like a sack of bony
gelatin, and he wasn't breathing.

Frohike didn't waste time checking for a pulse. He started CPR, ignoring
the chaos of sound and action just beyond the reality of Langly's body.
Breathe -- breathe -- Frohike began the chest compressions chanting a
silent prayer in time with the pushing. Live ... live ... live you
long-haired son-of-a-bitch. Langly's head lolled to one side.

"BYERS!" Frohike shouted, "NOW!"

"Don't panic." Yves knelt beside him, touching Langly's throat. "You're
doing fine, Frohike. Let me help until Byers gets here."

Frohike let Yves take over the ventilation. He watched her position
Langly's head and place her mouth over his. Her hair tumbled over their
faces, hiding Langly's pale, slack features under a curtain of midnight
floss. Frohike heard Byers cursing behind him, scrambling with the
portable defibrillator. Under his fingers, still poised on Langly's
chest, Frohike felt a shudder.

"He's breathing," Yves said softly, raising her head. "What the hell is
going on here?"

"Long story." Langly bucked under them, going from noodledom to a
gasping, flopping eruption of arms and legs. "Hold it buddy. Stay right
where you are." Frohike kept his hands on Langly's chest, and looked to
Yves. "Try to get his attention."

Yves grabbed Langly's jaw with one hand and slapped his cheek lightly
with the other. "Langly ... look at me. Calm down."

"Back? I'm back? I didn't go with ..."

Langly stopped moving. He was looking into Yves' face with an expression
that made Frohike's heart turn over. What was it -- loss? regret? relief?

"Did it work? Is Esther out?" Frohike tried to ignore the tear streaking
its way down Langly's cheek, but Yves' fingers gently wiped it away
before it dropped into his hair.

"She's free again. I think the box is fricasseed and flambed," Langly
cracked, blinking hard. He yawned, and shut his eyes. "My head's still
woozy."

"And probably will be for another hour, until the drug wears off,"
Frohike said, ignoring what he interpreted as a sound of disapproval
coming from Yves. He stood and, for the first time since Butch had hit
the floor, assessed his surroundings and companions.

Byers was standing over the half-unpacked defib unit; his eyes were wet,
too. Ed was holding one of his hands, and Jimmy was touching his
shoulder on the other side. Their faces mirrored Frohike's own shocked
relief. If Jimmy hadn't been standing there, Frohike would have given
serious thought to hugging both Ed and Byers.

The impulse passed. Frohike cleared his throat. "I'll bet it takes you
two hands to carry him to the couch, Jimmy."

"Don't even think about it." Langly's voice was slurred, and he kicked
feebly as Jimmy bent over him.

"He's kind of lengthy, but I can manage," Jimmy said, grinning at Yves.
"Just prop him up a little for me, I'll get him under the legs ..."

Langly kept his mouth shut on the trip to the couch, but when he'd been
comfortably arranged, his hair spilling over the red fabric like the
prelude to a questionable photo shoot, he focused on Frohike and made a
grab for his shirt.

"Don't think that doesn't count as payback. We're even now." In spite of
the drug, Langly managed to produce a credible snarl.

"I have so many questions, Frohike; but I think the first must be: who's
the man with the swollen jaw, moaning back there?" Yves stood looking at
them all as if they were asylum escapees.

"Crap. Butch. Jimmy -- remember those handcuffs you found while you were
filing?" Frohike saw Yves' eyes widen.

"Agent Mulder's handcuffs?" Jimmy shook his head, happy again. "Oh,
yeah. You want me to cuff that guy?"

"Consider it a job perk," Frohike said. "Be careful. I threw the gun
under the last light table. Fish it out after Butch is secure. Don't get
your fingerprints on it."

"Oh boy." Jimmy was off.

"I'll chaperone," Byers said, catching Frohike's eye. "Keep close watch
on Langly."

"I can be patient," Yves said, sitting down in the recliner, crossing
her legs. "You never invite me to any of your parties, Frohike. Why is
that?"

"How'd you get in? Byers?" He saw her nod. "Thanks for your help back
there."

Ed came from the kitchen with a tumbler of water. She'd lost the
peroxide bottle, Frohike noticed. His hand still itched, but it didn't
seem like the moment to do something about it.

"You scared the shit out of me, Langly." Ed perched on the edge of the
couch beside him and held the glass while he sipped. "You scared everybody."

"Sorry mom." Langly pushed the water away. "Can I just sleep for a while?"

"No!" Frohike heard Ed echo his own protest. Safer to keep Langly awake
for at least an hour, he thought. "You want to risk tag-team
mouth-to-mouth again?"

"What's that mean?" Langly tried to sit up, but Ed pushed him back down.

"We didn't let Jimmy touch you," Ed said kindly. "Drink the water and
save your voice. When they're done restraining the thug, we'll let you
do some talking. That will help keep you awake."

Yves' expression was speculative as she gave Ed the once-over. "We
haven't been introduced. I'm Yves Harlow."

"Edwina Norton -- Ed is fine. I'm selling advertising for the paper." Ed
left the couch, walked to the recliner, and offered her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ed. You have lovely hair," Yves said. "The
business is growing, Frohike -- you're adding employees. First Jimmy,
now Ed. I'm impressed."

He knew he should say something, but he saw Ed's face and decided to
keep his mouth firmly shut. Any woman who could use a peroxide bottle to
threaten an armed man could handle Yves.

"You have lovely everything," Ed said warmly. "Are you a journalist? The
pay here isn't great, but the benefits are outstanding."

Langly roused himself enough to snicker rudely. "Yeah. Personally, I
never thought that getting screwed by management could be considered a
benefit."

"Am I missing something?" Yves looked from Langly back to Ed's sweet smile.

"I'll go check on how they're doing with Butch." Frohike fled the scene
as quickly as he could. Behind him he heard Ed deliver the inevitable
punchline.

"Yes, you are."

 

*TUESDAY - 3 P.M.*

"That was quite a story."

It was hard to tell what was going through Yves' mind, Frohike thought,
when she really wanted to conceal her reactions. They'd startled her
several times; her mouth had dropped open, and she'd been shaking her
head until she gave up and relaxed against the back of the recliner and
simply listened to the events of the last three days.

They'd brought the kitchen chairs back in; Byers sat next to the head of
the couch, Jimmy sat at the other end poking Langly's toes periodically.
Frohike had pulled the other two chairs close together near the recliner
so he could keep Ed by his side. He found himself harboring a deep
resentment toward Yves for commandeering the recliner; he could have
been sharing it with Ed.

"I've heard SLI mentioned a few times. There are street rumors about
hardware implants," Yves said. "Conventional knowledge asserts that the
software is too far behind the hardware. I've never heard of anyone who
had a working jack. I'll have to look into it."

"Finally, something we know more about then she does," Langly said.

Back to normal, Frohike thought, although Langly needed to eat, sleep
and maybe talk some more about what had happened to him. But not in
front of this crowd; he knew Langly, and the younger man hadn't told
them everything he'd experienced. Frohike suspected they'd gotten the
abridged version because Yves, Jimmy ... and maybe Ed ... were
listening. When the three of them were alone again, they'd ask Langly
for the rest of the story.

"What will you do with the CRD?" Yves asked casually.

"Finish destroying it." Ed was adamant.

"Let me get rid of it for you," Yves said. "I know people ..."

"Who'd pay a lot of money?" Langly shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I wouldn't sell it. Has it occurred to any of you refugees from reality
that SLI may be incorporating similar technologies in other devices? I
know someone who might be able to get the box open, and learn something
in the process."

"No." Langly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the couch. His
voice was dead serious, utterly without sarcasm. "We'll take care of the
CRD, Yves. If there's new technology inside, it will show up in other
places soon enough."

"If you're volunteering for POS disposal duty, we've got another problem
you could help us with," Frohike said. "Any ideas on what to do with Butch?"

"You probably broke his jaw." Yves said. "It's obvious you can't turn
him over to the police without being asked questions you don't want to
answer. I could take him for a ride, have a talk with him, then leave
him at an emergency room. I could point out that it would be easy for
you to set him up for arrest on any number of drug related offenses. I
could suggest he make it his life's goal to stay out of your way. I can
be -- persuasive."

"Tell him we'll investigate his finances, and turn the information over
to his employer," Byers suggested. "Considering his behavior with us,
he's probably been involved in other illegal activities."

"I'll include that in my conversation," Yves said. "Jimmy hasn't lost
the key to the cuffs, I hope."

"I've got it." Frohike tossed the key to her. "Thanks. We owe you. I'll
help you get him to the car."

When he stood, Frohike felt his head give a warning throb. He was badly
sleep deprived, and his body wasn't going to let him get stay awake much
longer.

Butch was vocal about his own pain, and Frohike's probable parentage, as
they escorted him to Yves' car. Yves ignored most of it, but after she
opened her trunk and told Butch to climb in she advised him that the
other side of his face could meet the same fate if he didn't shut up.

"I've got more questions." Yves shut the trunk and walked to the
driver's side. Frohike met her eyes across the roof. She shrugged.
"We'll talk later. Take care of Langly."

 

*TUESDAY - 3:30 P.M.*

Ed was waiting for him with a sewing needle, peroxide bottle, gauze,
tape and tube of Neosporin. She made him sit at the kitchen table, and
began removing splinters.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd been wearing your gloves," she
scolded.

"I left them in your bedroom." Frohike saw the color bloom in her
cheeks. "I think I've got another pair in *my* bedroom."

"Frohike?" Byers carried the remaining two kitchen chairs back to the
table. He looked as frazzled as Frohike felt. "Jimmy and I are going to
clean up the mess, and get the Mac ready to return to Kimmie. Langly
will be asleep before long. I know you're tired; I'll watch Langly if
you want to go to bed."

"Thanks, Byers. None of us are in any shape to be making big decisions
right now," Frohike said. Ed was taping the gauze over his hand,
avoiding his eyes. "Don't let anyone in while I'm out of it. Please."

"All right." Byers nodded, smiling at Ed.

"What's to eat?" Langly passed the table, headed for the refrigerator.
"Are those enchiladas still good?"

"You should stick with a grilled cheese." Jimmy opened a cupboard, and
began rummaging. "Sit down. I'll fix you right up."

Frohike yawned. He couldn't help himself. When he stretched his arms
afterwards, he could hear his shoulders crack and pop.

"Come on -- you're nearly asleep on your feet." Ed gathered her medical
supplies. "You said you'd show me your lava lamp. I think this might be
a good time."

"Way to go, Fro!" Jimmy added a couple of Tim Taylor-grunts for punctuation.

"Jimmy!" Byers sounded deeply embarrassed.

Frohike put his arm around Ed's shoulder and ignored his friends. "Let's
put that stuff back in the bathroom."

"Absolutely." Ed sucked in her bottom lip, and her dimple flashed.

Frohike steeled himself; he'd seen that look before. But she simply
smiled and kept walking.

"Tell her the house rules, Frohike!" Langly yelled after them. "Keep the
noise down and the monkey business inside the bedroom!"

"Langly, shut up." Byers was at the end of his own long day, and still
had hours of baby-sitting to do. Frohike almost felt sorry for him.

"If she doesn't leave the toilet seat up, she's outta here! ... Ouch!"
Langly shut up abruptly.

A muffled thump, the clatter of cooking utensils, and a jumbled argument
between Byers and Langly followed them down the hall.

"It's small and cluttered, compared to your bedroom," Frohike said as he
opened the door for her.

Ed saw the lava lamp and grinned at him. "My favorite colors. Turn it
on." She didn't waste time checking out the bedroom, just started taking
off her clothes. "I figure I have about five minutes to talk to you
before you're unconscious. Hurry up."

Frohike switched on the lamp. When he turned around, Ed was already
curled up on his bed. 'Hurry' was not physically possible for him just
then, but he made an effort. The gauze on his palm hampered the process
a little; he nearly ripped it off in the struggle to remove his shirt.

She was holding her hand over her mouth again, but watching her trying
not to laugh out loud when she was naked was so interesting that Frohike
forgave her on the spot for the Jimmy incident. He climbed into bed next
to her, and tried to take her in his arms.

"Spirit willing, flesh weak," Ed said. She turned him away from her and
spooned up against his back. "I didn't quite believe you when you said
your life was occasionally dangerous. I'm going to have to take
self-defense classes."

"You have a natural ability that can't be taught," Frohike said
sleepily. "The peroxide was a nice touch, and the thing about dog food ..."

"He was a very bad man." Ed kissed the back of his neck. "I don't think
I'd want to carry a gun. The temptation to use it would be great in a
situation like that."

"Yeah. And peroxide bottles are so multipurpose." Frohike yawned. Miles
had passed, it was time to sleep. "I love you, Ed."

The lava lamp was humming, doing its dance. Frohike shut his eyes, and
let the sound displace active thought. Ed was warm against his back; her
mouth gently touched his shoulder. Tomorrow he'd have to remember to
take the note about getting laid off his computer.

"I was wrong about the five minutes," he heard her whisper, from far
away. "I'll be here when you wake. I love you, too."

 

 

 

 

 
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*LGHQ, THURSDAY - 5:30 P.M.*

"I'm glad you didn't go," Byers said. "Although I can't imagine it being
a temptation, still it must have been extraordinary."

The kitchen smelled like oregano, peppers, onions, tomatoes and fried
sausage. Frohike had started cooking as soon as he'd gotten out of bed
that afternoon. Jimmy was gone, and Yves hadn't returned since Tuesday.
The paper had made it to press on time. It wasn't a bad issue
considering they'd given it less attention then it deserved, and the
printer had flipped the magenta and yellow plates. No big deal -- only
the complexions of the PETA group huddled around a dead horse looked
downright abnormal.

"Words don't really describe what it was like," Langly said. He was
kicked back in his chair, sipping a Tab, and looked relaxed and happy.
"If I had a second chance, I don't know ..."

"You'd leave all this?" Frohike gestured at the kitchen sink.

"Part of me would. I didn't know that before." Langly tipped back the
bottle hastily. "Esther seems to be thriving, so apparently it can be
done. We've learned something."

"How do you think the box got into the storage cubicle?" Byers asked,
changing the subject to something less weighty. "I'm still wondering why
they abandoned it."

"A jealous woman," Langly said. "M'biswo is the 'bitch' Esther described
meeting in the CRD. She'd gone in to find out why her boyfriend was
spending all his time hooked up. After she met Esther, she took the box
from Tan and made it disappear."

"Umm." Frohike saw their heads nod in unison. "I keep thinking Yves is
right, and the technology will start showing up in other places."

"It will," Langly said. "The box -- it's gone for good?"

Frohike had taken the job on himself. "Completely crushed inside the
remains of a Chevy Biscayne. It's gone for good."

"Good," Langly nodded.

There was a long, comfortable silence, just the three of them around the
table.

"Are you going to see Ed tonight?" Byers asked.

Frohike shook his head. "She had things to do. Something about getting
her hair done." He saw Byers look quickly at Langly, then away. "What?"

"Nothing. Women and their hair." Byers laughed uncomfortably.

"Langly. She'll hurt you," Frohike warned. "What's in that file on her,
anyway?"

Langly shook his head. "Having turned my back on the light once this
year, I'm not headed that way again. I do feel lucky tonight. How about
a little poker?"

Just like old times -- but better, Frohike thought. "Clear the table,
punk. I'm going to whip your ass."


TO THIRD SEGMENT, LONE GUNMEN, ASAP