U. S. Route 50

== Introduction ==
Ladies and Gentlemen, 
Our journey has begun. I'm still learning how to write, but I know where this story is going, and I'm inviting you along to enjoy the ride.
This is basically a first draft; constructive criticism is always welcome.
Whether you're reading this in a subway station or a bus stop, front porch or attic, or some other less atmospheric location, I want to make you feel part of this world where people can fly, if they know how, and if they're willing to put their lives on the line to fight for it. That's U. S. Route 50, and who knows? It might be the real world. At least for these few hours we have together, let's pretend it is.
== Part One ==
== Chapter One: Out Here ==
Utah, July 1973
A flash of gleaming scarlet rushed past, rattling the desert scrub with a dry wind in its wake. They were the only plants that survived this place, where red sand and rocky outcroppings stretched across the flat landscape to clash with a china-blue sky on the stark, straight horizon. Out here, U. S. Route 50 was the only thin strip of civilization that existed, and even the Route was only that: a route, a path, a place from which to get to other places. And the red pickup truck was searching for such a place, somewhere along the edge of the sizzling blacktop.
In the back of the truck sat a man in a black leather jacket, holding a green duffle bag and looking out at the desert passing by. His clothes looked beat-up, the leather cracking and dusty, his jeans torn, scuffed and faded. His face was scruffy and tired, with a five-o'clock shadow covering his jaw, but his short hair; hard, vertical lines between his eyebrows, and alert expression suggested something of a human German Shepherd.
Suddenly he locked his eyes on something in the desert, sat up and peered out at it. A few dozen yards away, there was something blue lying in the dust. At first he thought it might be a tarp or a tent, but as he looked closer he realized it was a dress, and there was a woman wearing it, lying on the ground as if asleep. 
"Hey! Driver! Stop the car!" He shouted. The truck didn't slow down. 
"Hey!" He thumped the cab with his hand a few times. A face popped out of the driver's window.
"What!?" The driver asked.
"There's somebody out there, stop the car!" He said.
The driver slumped back into his seat and turned the truck. It eased onto the side of the road, slowing to a stop. The man in the back hopped out with his bag and walked to the front.
"What was it, now?" The driver asked with a furrowed brow. 
"There's somebody out there, just lying in the desert. I'm gonna go check it out, they gotta need help or something."
The driver scratched his nose. "Alright buddy, make it quick. I ain't got all day here." He didn't seem to care much, and the traveler was fairly sure he was drunk. Oh well, he thought. The perils of hitchhiking. Gotta do what you gotta do. 
He slung his bag over his shoulder and trotted across the highway, then slowed down to a careful walk as he stepped around the brush and rocks, making his way through the wilderness. In the back of the truck, he had the wind rushing around him, but now the air was still, heavy and oven-hot. He took off his jacket and stuffed it in his bag, but he was still breathing hard and wiping sweat from his forehead when he got there.
When he saw her, though, he forgot about all the inconvenience she had caused him. She wasn't a woman; she was a little girl in a sky-blue dress, with a livid sunburn. She looked around ten years old. The man bent down and shook her gently, but she didn't wake up. He felt her wrists and neck. Her heart was beating, and she was breathing, but she wasn't merely asleep; she was out cold. She might not even survive this. A thousand questions arose in the man's head: Who would have left her out here like this? There's nothing around here for hundreds of miles. Did someone just dump her here? But why bring her this far out from the road? And if they were trying to kill her, why leave her alive? It's not like anyone just goes out for a hike around here, of course it would be suspicious, and they had to have known she was visible from the road! Did she come out here by choice? Why? 
Oh well, he concluded. The main thing is to get her to a hospital, fast. 
The man adjusted his bag, crouched down again and lifted her up. He turned around and started walking back towards the truck. He looked up at the two black lines of the Route, stretching across the land from horizon to horizon, uninterrupted. The truck was gone, and the man and the girl were alone. 
The man stared for a moment in utter disbelief, then gritted his teeth as fire flowed through his veins. He made a conscious effort to keep from gripping the girl too hard, as he felt the desperate need to strangle someone. He kicked the ground hard, scuffing up dust with his boot. "Damn! It!" he seethed. Tears stung his eyes. He tried to calm down, and took a few deep breaths. There was nothing he could do but keep walking. Carrying the girl though this desert would be a good way to die of heat exhaustion, but he would just have to hang on to the blind faith that someone would drive past and rescue them.
He made his way back to the highway and trudged alongside it with stubborn resolution, almost as if surviving this would be spitting in the face of that pickup's driver. And surviving seemed like a pretty good idea anyway; it's not as if he had anything better to do. He smiled at the thought. He had no reason to complain, really. This was all he had, at the moment; it was all there was and that would have to be okay. If no one drove past, he would die trying to get this girl to a hospital. He could live with a death like that. So he kept walking and didn't waste time feeling sorry for himself. 
It would be a long walk.
- - -
He had no idea how many hours of trudging and aching heels and sweaty pants and aching, throbbing shoulders had passed as he carried her and trudged along through the dry dust. Maybe it wasn’t hours; maybe it was minutes. It felt like forever. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. The sun had become his world, the dry heat and the blank landscape his whole existence. 
He had come to some kind of reconciliation with his death. He never thought in his life that he would ever be this philosophical, but the time had given him so much time to think and he could hardly avoid it: he started to think about what death would be like. He told himself he didn't care, but underneath that there was a desperation, a screaming plea to not die. Not yet. He knew he had left things unfinished. He knew that he hadn't accomplished a fraction of what he wanted in life. Not for himself; not for others. What would he say when he arrived at the pearly gates? "I got by? I stuck it through?" What had he done? Precisely nothing. He had fought in a war that he didn't believe in, just for a few brainless hippies to spit on him and for a lousy paycheck that eventually left him on the street. He hadn't made a lasting relationship with any females. His family had passed out of his life and any communication with him a decade ago. He was already approaching the later years of his thirties, and he should have been in the prime of his life and he knew it, but he was feeling old. And he was feeling worthless. The little girl in his arms was, right now, the only thing that he thought he could do. A wrong he could right. Something to accomplish. And now they'd both die out here. What a life. What a wonderful life.
It was near sunset when a distant hum began to turn into a roar. He had hardly dared to hope, but when it became too loud and too clear to ignore, he risked turning his head back for a look. There was a car in the distance. Just a glimpse. A glimpse of a bright, gleaming thing that flashed in the sun and flew across the highway like an angel coming to rescue them.
He started laughing. Out there in the desert, surrounded by nothing, panting in the dry imperious heat, he started laughing because he needed this car to rescue him from death, and the absurd melodrama of the situation just hit him.
Before long, the lean, purple convertible had flown ahead of them, kicking up a cloud of dust, and swerved to a stop in a half-sideways, diagonal position a few yards in front of them. The man stood where he was.
The driver's door clicked open and a woman launched herself out. She was very tall, bronze-skinned, and dressed with bell-bottom jeans that came all the way up over her waist to fasten around the middle of her abdomen, and a frilly yellow shirt above, tucked in beneath it. A red handkerchief held back the cascade of wavy black hair that reached down over her shoulders behind her. She jogged up to them. 
"You look like you need some help." She shouted with a broad smile.
"Ya think?"
"Here, let me see" the woman said, coming close and feeling the little girl’s forehead, "what happened to her?"
He didn't entirely want to, especially not in such an urgent situation, but he could hardly help noticing how incredibly beautiful she was. 
"Look," he said, "unless you're a doctor then I don't need your advice, I need a ride to a hospital, and fast. Can you do that?"
The woman looked up at him with a flashing glare. "A please and thank you wouldn't hurt any, mister. What's your name anyway?"
"Russo. Now can we get in the car or should I keep marching on my feet? . . . please."
She rolled her eyes as she started walking back towards the car, keeping her body turned sideways to talk to Russo. "I'm Cielo." She said, sticking her hand out and shaking Russo's hand beneath the girl, as Russo let it hang limply. He had no qualms about letting her know how pissed he was and he was rather frustrated with how she seemed more concerned with chit-chat than with the urgent matter at hand.
“So what are you two doing all the way out here?” Cielo asked as Russo settled in the passenger seat and the engine hummed to life. 
"I don't know. She was just out there in the sun. I found her there. And I'm just passing through this hellhole, that's all."
"Funny, we're here for the same reasons." Cielo replied.
"What's that?"
"Just passing through."
“Yeah.”
Russo sighed, letting his head lean back against the headrest. The breeze felt good as the car rocketed across the highway. Cielo switched the radio on and let it play loud, filling the desert with rock and roll.
---
Russo woke up from a shallow doze to the gravelly sound of the car swinging into a space in a dirt parking lot. The sky was deep red and getting black in the east as the sun disappeared, but the diner in front of them cast a pool of warm, yellow light around it. 
It had been a bright, shiny, futuristic design in the late 1950's, built in the "googie" style, optimistic and exuberant. The low, horizontal building was capped by a bright red, shed roof which soared up and away from the low right side, out towards huge expanses of plate glass on the left. Walls and columns alternated between red and white; in fact, all it would have taken was some blue paint to make the diner resemble the Stars and Stripes. A big, gaudy sign dominated the parking lot, as if even more than the building's already loud display were required to draw eyes from the highway. SUNSHINE it proclaimed, with Family Diner underneath. 
Cielo hopped out of the driver’s side and came around to open up the passenger door. 
“I’ll get her.” She said as she picked up the girl, then walked on towards the diner. “Come on.” She said, tossing her head toward the door. 
Russo blinked and tried to shake the drowsiness from his head. It wasn’t only that; it was the sharp headache and weak body that made it difficult for him to get out of the car and trot ahead of Cielo to open the door for her. But he didn’t think of things that way. Russo did not deal with pain by acknowledging it; he dealt with pain by ignoring it and if necessary, by taking it out on others. He was not thinking that he needed to rest. He was thinking that he was angry and frustrated. 
He pulled the plate-glass door open and let Cielo and the girl through before coming in himself. The same red and white color scheme dominated the interior, splashed across walls, ceilings, the plastic seat cushions and Formica tabletops, lined with shining chrome. The smell of pancakes and bacon seemed to be soaked into the surfaces. The windows seemed even more expansive inside the diner; it felt like being inside a dry aquarium. In the middle of everything there was a counter with barstools lined up along it, behind which was a checkerboard-tiled wall hiding the kitchen. No one was there. The entire place was empty.
The terrifying thought that the place was abandoned flickered through the man's mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly, because the place was cold, colder than Everest and twice as windy, with a groaning AC. His sweat-soaked clothes were becoming an icy, wet straight-jacket. He shuddered. The girl probably didn't feel any better, or wouldn't have, if she had been awake. Cielo was laying her on the counter, shoving aside little napkin boxes and salt-and-pepper shakers. Some of them fell off and rattled around on the floor. Russo lifted his duffle bag off and pushed it under the girl's feet to elevate her legs. 
"Hey PEOPLE! We need some help out here!" He shouted. "Anybody home!?"
There were rustling noises from somewhere in the back, and then a heavyset, middle-aged woman wearing a white apron shuffled out.
"You got a phone?" Russo demanded. "Look, she needs to get to a hospital. She must have passed out from heat stroke; she was already out three hours ago, it's a miracle she's still alive."
She held up her palm to slow him down and nodded, saying: "I know, I know; I’ve had to deal with this kind of thing before. It’s okay; she’ll be fine, right Cielo?" 
Russo’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Cielo. 
Cielo nodded. “I don’t know when they’ll be back, but I know we have to wait for them.” 
“What?” Russo said. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement: a statement of the utter perplexity he was feeling. For the one thing, how did these people know each other, and for another, why were they even thinking of “waiting” on anything? 
“She has to get to a hospital, now!” He insisted. 
“Look mister, if her friends” she gestured towards Cielo, “Take longer than an hour to get here, then we’ll leave without them. And if we do that, then we’ll be dealing with low gas and very little protection and on top of that no guidance and almost no communication. I know exactly what we are dealing with here and I am doing my absolute best to keep it together. So you can stop acting like you’re the only adult here.”
There was a rather long silence after that as Russo tried and failed to reply. He realized how tightly he had been gripping the edge of the counter, and backed away, taking a deep breath and bringing his hand up to cover his mouth as he released a shuddering sigh.
“I’m sorry.” He said. “I just don’t want her to die.” 
“It’s okay.” Cielo told him. “She’ll be fine.”
The lady behind the counter extended her hand. 
“I’m Donna.” She said. 
Russo took it. “Russo.”
Donna nodded. “Looks like you already met Cielo. I’m going to do my best to keep this girl alive and then we’re going to wait.” She glanced behind her at a clock. 7:26 P.M. “For exactly . . . fifty-seven minutes.” She said, then ambled into the back. There was a minute or so more of nerve-racking inactivity as the man paced back and forth. He could hear water and clinking noises in the back.
Donna came back out with two full pitchers of water. Quite nonchalantly, she leaned over the counter and poured the water onto the girl, making sure to pour it all evenly and not run out. The man watched as the water pooled and dripped in tendrils over the counter and formed shining puddles on the floor. 
When she had finished, she looked up at him, and said, "Now we wait."
"There's nothing else. . . ?" 
"Unless you got a better idea, then no." She said. "There's nothing else we can do. I've seen this kind of thing a lot before, and trust me, it only gets worse when people start messing around without a doctor."
"Alright, well. . . you want me to help clean up some of this water on the floor and all?" He offered.
"I got some towels, I'll do it. You best go over there and sit yourself down. I think you may have forgotten that you were out there, too."
He relented and sat down on the edge of a booth as she disappeared into the back again. He winced at the damp touch of his back to the seat cushion. It made it more obvious how much he'd been sweating, and that was something he had been trying to avoid thinking about. Cielo came over and dropped into the cushion across the table from him. 
“Some day, huh?” She offered. 
Russo just nodded, looking out the window at the flat landscape the horizon flatten to a thin glowing line as the last of the sunset ebbed out.
Donna came out with another pitcher full of water in one hand, and two glasses in the other.
"Here," she said, setting them down on the table. She poured both glasses so full that the surface of the water was level with the top of the glass. Russo had always wondered how waitresses could do that; it seemed like a circus trick. 
His fingers curled around the cold glass, damp with condensation, but he couldn't bring himself to take a drink from it. It seemed too soon, or maybe it was just one of those weird feelings that contradict every law of self-preservation, thoughts that tell you to jump off the cliff, or sometimes to refuse a drink even though you're dead thirsty, parched. Being parched just felt safer, safer than taking the plunge into the cold wet again. It felt almost wrong, even though he knew he had to do it. And then there was the girl, would she get a drink? She was already dying. He shoved the thoughts away. There was nothing he could do about any of it, nothing except take a drink. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. It felt weird, but better. He swallowed. He licked his lips.
"So how do you two," He gestured between Cielo in front of him and Donna, who had walked back behind the counter, "Know each other?" 
"I pass through a lot." Cielo replied. "It's become sort of a policy to stop by here, or a tradition, whenever we come." 
He took another few sips, feeling his throat be moist again. It no longer hurt to speak. 
"And 'we' is . . . ?"
“Just my friends. We come here often."
Russo shrugged his shoulders and sat back in the booth. A group of people that travel around and eat at a certain diner so often that a waitress knew them by name sounded like hippies to him. Or maybe they were a band. Maybe both. Either way, he resolved not to let the little girl out of his sight until he knew she was in good hands, rather than in the clutches of some group of weirdos. He hadn’t signed up for this. He had signed up for . . . what, exactly? Even he couldn’t answer that. He had been out looking for something, anything, like a knight-errant of old. And he had found it: a quest. It just seemed so infuriatingly complicated. There was a damsel in distress, but where was the monster? Where were the clear rules, the code of chivalry, the steed, the shining armor? Where was the predictability the old tales had promised? Why couldn't it just be simple? 
Cielo made a few more attempts at small talk, but they fizzled out quickly. Russo’s replies were always terse and became more so as time went on. He wanted to be left in peace with his thoughts. Eventually, Cielo left him to it, going behind the counter to sit down with Donna. The sun outside disappeared, leaving the restaurant alone as the only source of warm light in the cold, black night. Russo almost fell asleep several times. 
Shortly after 8:00, he was hunched over the counter, breathing in the steam of a half-full mug of coffee and tapping his fingers, trying not to fall asleep. 
The door opened and someone walked in. He was massive -- must have been at least six and a half feet tall -- and wore an equally massive brown trenchcoat that covered most of his body, with a fedora hat cinched low over his face. He wore large boots, and also leather gloves over his hands. Almost no part of him was visible at all. It would have looked funny if not for his sheer 
Cielo got up and shook his hand.
“Good evening, Madam. How bad is she?” He asked. 
“Well, she’s not great. We need to leave right now.” Cielo said. 
The big man picked up the girl and turned to walk out the door as Russo stood up, feeling entirely out of the loop. 
“Who’s this?” He asked.
Cielo turned to him as they walked towards the door. “This is my friend Levy.” She pronounced it as “levee”. Russo thought that it didn’t sound much like a name. At least not a normal name. More like a weirdo name.
Levy nodded his head at Russo. 
“Well, this is where we part ways.” Cielo said. “Nice knowing you, Russo.” 
Levy stepped ahead and pushed open the door, and was standing in the doorway with the girl in his arms. 
“Wait, hold on, I’m not staying here!” Russo protested. 
“Well, you’re not coming with us.” Cielo chuckled. 
“I’m going wherever she goes.” Russo said, pointing to the girl. “And I ain’t got a ride anyway.” He finished, spreading his arms. 
Cielo sighed. She glanced over her shoulder at her friend. Levy nodded again. “He can.” He said, then looked over and spoke to Russo: “We will take you to Reno. 
“Okay then.” Russo said. 
They walked out into the parking lot and took the girl to a dark blue van. Maybe kidnappers of some kind, too. Add that to my list of possible things these people are. Russo didn’t like the idea of getting in there with the girl. He was fairly sure he could overpower Cielo, but he didn’t like his chances against Levy, who was apparently their enforcer or bouncer or whatever. But there was only one other option. Well, two options: he could try to grab the little girl and get away somehow, but . . . no. There was no chance of that. The second option was to try to get to ride with the girl in the convertible like they came. That would be safer.
“Hey, why don’t me and the girl ride in the convertible like we came? That way the breeze . . .” Russo suggested, but trailed off as they ignored him, Levy putting the girl in the back of the van and walking to the driver’s seat of the van, and Cielo hopping into her convertible. 
“No.” Levy said. 
There was nothing else he could think of to try. No way out. No way sideways. Just one path. Keep the little girl safe. 
Russo had done way stupider things for way more dubious reasons.
He climbed into the back of the van and shut the door. 
== Chapter Two: Open the Door ==
Jason squinted, pursing his lips and scratching his chin. He was a large, obese man, dressed in a “Mr. Rogers” sweater and khaki pants, with greasy curls of black hair that dangled down onto the rims of his big, round glasses as he stared down at the girl. 
Someone climbed in and slammed the door shut. The engine started running. The back of the van was dark and tiny, filled with suitcases and boxes, and rattling like a freight train. 
He felt it. He knew it. He just didn’t want to be distracted. 
But the man’s voice shattered his train of thought anyway. 
“How you doin?” Russo said, extending his hand. 
Jason took a moment to look up and study Russo’s face. “Good” he eventually replied, in a soft voice. He hesitantly waved, then noticed Russo’s hand and shook it quickly. “Wh . . . What about you?” He asked. 
“Good, fine.” Russo replied. “What’s your name?”
“Jason. . . What about you?” 
“Russo.” 
A long pause followed that. Jason had returned to staring at the girl. 
“Hell of a night, eh?” Russo said. 
Jason just nodded, still looking down. “Yeah.” 
Damn, this guy knows how to kill a conversation, Russo thought.
Although Russo interpreted it as anxiety, the fact was that Jason really just wanted to be left alone. He was in the middle of something that no one else could understand. 
A click and a fizz broke his focus. He looked up at Russo, who was holding a lighter to his mouth, covering it as he lit a cigarette. Russo raised his eyebrows. 
“What?” He said, spreading his hands innocently before Jason’s glare. “You don’t like smoke?”
“Mr. Russo, come up here.” Levy’s voice boomed from the front of the van. Russo shrugged his shoulders and began climbing up over the boxes. 
He plopped into the passenger seat.
“What is it?”
Even up close, the other man’s face was shadowy and vague. All Russo could seem to make out was the hard-edged outline of a stern face. Combined with the coat, with a turned-up collar, and the low, wide-brimmed fedora hat, Levy looked like some sort of comic-book character. As a kid, Russo had read comics with hard-boiled detective characters, and this reminded him of that, but it seemed more creepy in the real world. 
“We will take you to Reno.” Levy said.
"Okay,” Russo questioned, “So . . .”
“No further.”
He said that with a finality that left Russo speechless in a disgusted kind of way. Russo did not like to be a lesser authority. He had pride. And here, in this situation, he had stakes. But he had to play it safe. Debating this guy wouldn’t get him anywhere. He would make a plan when they got to Reno, maybe get a chance to call the police. For now, he would hold his peace, keeping an eye on the girl. He started getting up to climb back again, but Levy stopped him. 
“Stay up here.”
"Why?” 
“You’re disturbing his focus.”
“What?” Russo asked, then lowered his voice to a whisper: “Jason? He’s just back there staring at the girl. Pretty creepy, if you ask me.” 
“I did not.” Levy replied. “And you are unwise to make assumptions about my friends.” 
Russo had already made quite a few assumptions about Jason. Fat. Lazy. Crackhead. A sleazy creep at the least. They were rather nasty thoughts, but Russo was used to thinking nasty things about people. In his experience, the reality of things was usually worse than even his worst predictions. 
Russo settled back down into his seat. He felt trapped. The journey that had promised to be a rather interesting adventure was starting to feel like a trip to the dentist. He slouched down, let his chin rest on his chest, and closed his eyes. The night was quiet. 
---
A siren whooped then screamed behind them, jolting Russo wide awake. A police siren. In the middle of the desert. Russo growled. Out here? In the middle of the night? You've gotta be kidding me!
It was close behind them now. Levy pulled the van over, letting it roll to a stop. 
The cops pulled up right behind them and the siren died. Reflections from the red-blue-red-blue light danced on the van’s windshield. 
“PLEASE EXIT THE VEHICLE.” A voice boomed from a bullhorn. 
Russo prepared to get up, but Levy held a hand out to stop him.
“Stay in the car.” He said. 
Russo dropped back down into the seat with an irritated sigh. 
Levy’s boots hit the dusty asphalt of the highway. He walked back around the van. The two officers were standing in front of their squad car, waiting for him. Levy could see more flashing lights in the distance. They must have pulled over Cielo, too. 
He walked up to the officers. 
“Open the back, sir.” One of them commanded.
---
Russo was staring at the sideview mirror, trying to get a view of what was going on. No such luck, he chuckled to himself. Of course I’m being left out of everything. Of course! 
He was only beginning to enjoy the pity party when he heard a click. He knew that click. It was a gun being cocked. 
“Don’t come any closer!” a voice said behind the van. 
That’s it, Russo thought, What the hell is going on!
He hopped out of the van and trotted around to see the two officers standing by their car, guns drawn and eyes trained on Levy. Russo came to a dead stop. The officer closer to him watched him carefully, and then he did something rather unexpected. He turned his hands away from Levy to point his gun directly at Russo’s chest. 
There were a lot of clever things Russo had fantasized about saying if he ever had a gun pointed at him. None of them came to mind. 
The officer walked toward him until he was just about two feet away, keeping the gun pointed right at Russo’s heart. 
“You have a friend!” The other cop said to Levy in a mockingly enthusiastic voice. “And he’s not bulletproof. So you will open the door.”
Levy silently turned to the van and swung the doors open. 
Jason stood up in a crouch. His face was wild, wide-eyed, and as he stared at Levy’s face, his silent question was obvious: How could this happen?
Russo had no idea what was going on or why everyone seemed so dead-serious about whatever it was. Initially he had jumped to the conclusion that it must be a drug bust, but something felt different.  
The officer next to Levy waved his gun away from the van. “You, big guy. Get over there. Stay back.”
“Your turn.” He said, waving his gun at Jason. “Get out of the van.” 
Jason climbed out, and the cop herded all three men away onto the other side of the road as his partner reached into the van to grab the girl.
Two loud bangs rang across the desert -- gunshots. Russo glanced behind them, where they could see Cielo's car on the road a few miles back. Two more bangs. They were definitely coming from over there. He winced. That was the moment that Russo realized that his business, whatever it was, was dead serious, and he regretted getting involved. 
"You just stay over there!" The cop shouted, keeping his pistol aimed at them even as he glanced over his shoulder toward the shots. He turned to his partner. "Come on, let's--"
There was a high-pitched roar like a plane taking off, and a plume of dust shot up across the road.
The cop didn't even have time to turn around.
There was a crack like a shotgun blast as he flew backwards into the air. It looked like an invisible eighteen-wheeler had run straight into him. He slammed against a corner of the van, fell onto the ground, and never moved again.
Russo noticed Jason beside him, bent over and shaking violently. Levy walked around, picked Jason up and slung him over his shoulder, then started walking ahead, along the road. Russo followed. “Hey! What are we doing? What’s wrong with him? What the hell is going on?”
--- 
The other cop was cowering behind the van, holding the girl in one hand and holding a gun to her head with the other. He stared back towards Cielo’s car with wild eyes. “Hey!” He screamed. “You stay away, you hear me? I’ll kill her if you don’t! I’ll kill her! Believe me!” 
It took less than a second for the woman to show up in front of him. A trail of dust exploded in the air behind her and the wind rushed around them. She was standing on air several feet above the road, her arms held rigidly a few inches away from her sides and her fingers spread out flat, as if she was holding disks at her sides. 
“No,” She said, “You won’t.” 
The gun began to crumple like tin foil, wrenching itself inward to curl around the cop’s hand. 
He yelped and tried to shake it off, stepping back in futile panic.  
Cielo dropped down and walked towards him. The girl flew out of the cops' arms and floated towards Cielo. She grabbed her and held her tenderly, as the cop started to run. He rose up off the ground, his feet flailing, trying to find purchase on something solid. Then he shot across the sky like a comet, so far that he was out of sight in a wink. 
Cielo slowly drew in a deep breath and sighed. She sat against the hood of the squad car, sinking to the ground. 
---
“Well what can we do for him?”
Levy didn’t answer Russo’s question. He just walked on. After walking for about a minute away from the van, he set Jason down on his feet. “Hold him.” He told Russo. 
Russo stepped up to lend Jason a hand as the man, still shaky on his feet, put a hand on Russo’s shoulder. He was sweating and breathing heavy. 
Levy walked over and dug his boot into the sand beside the road, swiping a notch. 
“You’d better sit down.” He said, glancing at Jason. 
Jason nodded shakily, sinking to his knees on the ground. He was still looking down, with a desperate kind of expression in his eyes. 
Levy walked back to the van. Russo had given up trying to ask questions from him. Maybe he’d have better luck with Jason.
“Hey, buddy, what the hell happened to you? You okay or what?”
“It’s okay.” Jason reassured. “I just . . . I get that way, when people get hurt. It’s okay. It doesn’t last long.” 
Jason inwardly sighed at Russo’s thoughts: drugs. Has to be drugs. No other explanation. I need to get out of here as soon as possible. 
But there was something else that Russo was thinking, something he was in fact trying not to think about: what the hell did I just see back there? 
---
“How are you, madam? How is the girl?” Levy said, running up to the van. 
“Fine, Levy, thanks.” Cielo said. “We’re both fine. I’m sorry, I just--”
“No need to explain. You did what you thought was best.”
“I just hate to hurt him like that! I just, I know how much we try not to do things like that, I just thought, what else is there? When guns get involved . . . God, Levy, it scared me! I didn’t know what else to do!” 
Levy was silent as he crouched down, listening to her. 
“I’m sorry.” She concluded. 
"No need.” Levy insisted as he rose up and walked back around the van. The cop was still spread out in the middle of the road. Levy picked him up, got a good grip on his leg, swung him around and then flung him far out into the desert. Then he returned to Cielo. 
“See?” He said, spreading his hands. “It’s done.”
She offered a tired smile. 
“Come.” He said. “We should leave. Time is precious to us.” 
“Wait.” She grabbed onto his hand as he crouched down to help her up. “What about that Russo guy?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I will show him my face, and let him decide.” 
== Chapter Three: In the Company of Gods ==
The hospital was cold, white and empty. Russo glanced across the hallway at Levy, who was all covered in his dark coat and hat again, leaning up against the wall. He met Russo’s gaze and nodded. Russo looked away. He sighed and brought his hands up to massage his eyebrows, then let them rest awkwardly in his lap again. They were trembling uncontrollably. 
---
Out on the highway earlier, he’d failed to get anywhere with Jason. He had practically begged the man to tell him something about what was going on, even just to confirm that what they had seen was real. Jason didn’t give an inch. He was full of I-don’t-knows and maybes. Russo knew he was trying to hide something; he wasn’t stupid. These people would have to see that. Russo would have to show them that he meant business.
He had grabbed Jason’s collar and yelled in his face. Jason whimpered and shook, but wouldn’t say a word. 
Then Russo felt something at the back of his neck, like cold steel clamping down. It surrounded his entire throat and pulled him backward. He dropped Jason, who ran off towards the van like someone had just fired the starting gun at a race.
“He’ll be fine now.” Levy's voice said from behind Russo. “As long as you leave him alone.” 
The grip snapped off. 
“You and I should talk.” 
Russo turned around, feeling his throat with one hand. It wasn't Levy. At least, something with the same voice, size and shape of Levy was there, wearing the same trenchcoat that Levy wore, but it was not the man that Russo had met a few hours ago.
There was no hat covering its face, a face like a skull covered in green scales. It wasn’t like a lizard, not in the shape of it, but the scales and the green color were unquestionably reptilian. Its eyes were set deep in their skull-sockets, with a yellow glow and slit pupils. Its mouth was a thin line cut into the face with a permanent smile, digging up into the cheeks in deep pits between the nose and the sides of the jaw. The nose too was only a slit between the scales, and so were the ears. Three ridges of spikes climbed up from its brows and spread over the top of its head, giving it a thorny appearance, like a crown.
Russo couldn't breathe for a second. His overwhelming instinct was to run, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He was stuck out in the middle of a nowhere, in a desert, under the cold, black, dome of a sky that was shimmering with more stars than he'd ever seen in his life. There was no civilization nearby, nothing to appeal to. No help to be asked for. He was alone with the demon in front of him, just like he'd been alone in everything else in his life. So he'd have to face this nightmare with only his own guts to back him up. 
The creature unbuttoned its coat and shrugged out of the sleeves, letting it fall to the ground. Its body was also humanoid, but covered in scales and spikes, with huge talons on the ends of its fingers, and a thick, ridged tail behind it. It looked like a crocodile, or a dinosaur. Russo had seen monsters like this in the movies, but they had never looked so human, or so angry. 
It stepped closer, and spoke. "Why don't we try that again?" 
Russo couldn't really believe it. The creature's lips moved and the sound that came out was the exact same voice that Levy always spoke in. There was no difference. But surely that wasn't possible.
The creature went on. "I believe you were asking my friend what was going on with the police officers earlier? Why don't you ask me?" 
It stepped closer again as it was saying that, and leaned forward, tensing its shoulders and narrowing its eyes. Russo's face stung, and he realized that it was burning. He stumbled back, falling on his back. He looked up at the creature's face, hazy with heat. It must have been its breath that seared him. This situation was going downhill faster than Russo could react. 
The way he saw it, Russo had only one course of action, and that was to defend himself. He didn't actually believe that he would survive this, but he did believe in refusing to "go down without a fight." At the end of the day, he still had his pride, even in the face of some demon from the pit of hell. Crawling backward, he rummaged in his back pocket and found his knife. He pulled it out and flicked it open. 
"There is nothing you can do, Mr. Russo." The creature warned. "Those creatures were not officers of the law. They were like me."
It lunged forward and grabbed Russo's shirt, lifting him up into the air. He stabbed the creature's arm, but the knife didn't even penetrate. Russo dropped it and used both hands to hold the creature's cold, rough, steel-scaled wrists.
"As you now know, Mr. Russo," It said, "Not everything is as meets the eye."
The creature's face grew a bright yellow spot in the center, which expanded into a widening circle that spread across the face. Then again, and again, like a firework. More colors appeared. The creature's entire body became a flashing kaleidoscope within a matter of seconds. Then it was over. The same human face that Levy had met Russo with earlier that night was staring at him again. And then it shifted one more time, back into the dark, green, scowling dinosaur. 
Levy released his grip. Russo dropped onto the road again. 
Levy stepped forward again, with his tail writhing behind him, his white talons sinking into the road, uncomfortably close to Russo's feet. He scurried back again to keep a distance.
"Your choice ought to be blindingly obvious, now, Mr. Russo." It said. "You may leave and never speak of this again. Keep running, and keep your head down, and live your own life, never sticking your head into other people’s business again. 
"Or you may come with us. I could give you a chance to see and do things that most men will never even think of. You would not be safe, and I would not treat you differently because of your ignorance. You would have to earn your place.
"Your choice, Mr. Russo. Make it now."
Some choice, Russo thought. He was having a hard time thinking straight, but he knew this one for sure. It wasn't a real choice. If he took the first option and ran, he'd have nothing. It was a dead end. And why wouldn't he want to come with the freaks? Because he was a coward? No, that wasn't an option. The devil himself could try to scare him, and he wouldn't be cowed. Russo didn't make decisions based on fear. He was a red-blooded man and he was American. He would finish this. 
"I'm coming with you." 
Levy grunted. "Then you ought to ask Cielo and Jason about their own secrets." He said as he turned around and walked away. Russo simply stared at him as the creature bent down to retrieve his coat and hat. Once they were back on, he looked just the same as he had at first. But there was still that lingering memory of the reptilian beast. Russo could never see him the same way again. He startled as Levy half-turned back and stared back into his eye, then gestured for Russo to follow him. 
Russo didn’t know what he had expected. Some kind of pomp and ceremony? Some kind of initiation or a blood pact or something, maybe. But Levy was simply curt and prompt, like a businessman conducting an interview for a position. And even from that perspective, Russo didn’t know how he had gotten the job. But somehow, he had. 
When he stood up again, he realized he was shivering. 
---
Trudging back to the van, Russo was hardly looking forward to this next conversation. Supposing it was half as weird as the lizard man, he might have a heart attack and die. Then again, what was really so bad about that? At least it was simple. He could deal with simple. He just didn't know if he could deal with having his world turned upside down in thirty seconds. That was something that no normal person should have to deal with.
Jason was waiting for him, standing beside the van with his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry," Russo began.
"It's okay." Jason said. "I know how confused you are."
Russo opened his mouth but didn't say anything. 
Jason knelt and sank down onto the ledge on the back of the van, sat on it and put his elbows on his knees. Russo stepped forward and did the same thing beside him. They both looked down at the ground in front of them until Jason spoke up again. 
"I read minds." He murmured it quickly and quietly, as if he were embarrassed.
Russo's eyes turned to look at him. 
"Not everything." Jason said. "Just the things on the surface. Thoughts that you verbalize . . . that kind of thing. I can ignore it if I want to."
Russo looked at the ground again. "What did I expect." He tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a sigh. 
Well, great news. He thought. Now I can't even think in peace. I'll have to watch myself. And it was at that exact moment that it hit him. Jason was probably reading that thought. Jason might be reading every thought he had. He could never actually think freely. He really did have to watch himself. 
"It's okay." Jason reassured. "It's not a big deal." Then he chuckled. "People don't usually take my word for it."
"What, that you can read minds?"
Jason nodded.
"I wouldn't have believed that guy if he'd told me he was a lizard-thing. But . . . So you're not exactly hard to believe in comparison to THAT."
Jason smiled and paused for a second. "Yeah. I didn't--"
"Hey, we need to get going." Cielo's voice preceded her as she appeared around the side of the van. Standing in front of the two men, she crossed her arms. "He knows about you?" She asked Jason.
He nodded. She turned to Russo. 
"I don't really expect you to be comfortable with any of this right away, but we're leaving ASAP and I need you to know this."
Russo just stared. 
Cielo went on. "I can move things with my mind. That includes people, things, basically anything within sight. Got it?"
Russo nodded. All he needed was the memory of the way those cops got thrown around to remind him of just what she was actually capable of. She was right; none of this was really sinking in yet, but he was beginning to get a glimpse into just how dangerous these people really were, and it shook him to his core. A few hours ago, he wasn’t even considering that any of this might be possible. Now he had to figure out how to deal with it without getting killed, or getting anyone else involved, or giving up on the girl. Russo didn't view himself as a person that would give up on anything because he was afraid. The thing really carrying him through this was the idea that no matter how overwhelming this situation got to be, that somewhere along the line, he would get a chance to be a hero. To set something right. At least to protect that little girl who right now might be dying. So he did the thing he had been doing over and over again for the entire day. He shoved his doubts down and put a bold face on.
He stood up. "Let's get going."
---
Jason gave Russo space as soon as they got into the hospital about two hours later. He needed some level of solitude anyway, it helped his focus when he was trying to read someone. Right now Russo was outside in the hallway, thinking that his physical distance from Jason granted him some kind of license to think freely, so he was thinking very freely indeed. His mind was racing, an unfocused frantic mess of fears and doubts and ways that things could go wrong. He felt like a animal backed into a corner, but there was no way for him to lash out without jeopardizing everything. Jason would have to deal with this somehow. He couldn't have that kind of liability threatening the group. Russo was a loose cannon. Jason couldn't believe Levy's decision to let him stay. They should have just given him some money or something and left him behind. It would have been more merciful than this. 
But Jason had other things to think about. He was alone with the girl in the hospital room, trying to drown out myriad thoughts that swarmed around him from patients and doctors and families. Jason hated cities, and especially skyscrapers. This hospital building had enough floors and enough activities to be a screaming cacophony in his mind. Thankfully, his time spent with his teammates had allowed him to learn much of how to focus his mind and ignore the distractions.
He couldn't silence everything. There was still a murmur of voices, the occasional groan in the background. Jason let it be. But he peered in closely at the girl's mind. It was a blank void. Well, she was unconscious, that was not uncommon. Most people dreamed, but not always. He tried to peel back the layers, look closer, find the inside of the memories and the most well-worn paths of thought and habit. There was nothing. It was like trying to use a trowel to dig up bedrock. Either her mind was more secure than Fort Knox, or it was completely blank. But it couldn't be completely blank. Only . . . only dead people had completely blank minds. But she was breathing, her heart was pumping. She had to be alive! 
Jason stepped back and plopped down into a chair in the corner of the room. Drops of sweat were travelling down from his forehead. This wasn't possible. Even in his line of work, with the insane things that he had seen, this was a new one. A living person with a blank head. He drew a deep sigh. 
In the quiet now, Jason noticed a fly buzzing around the room. It hit itself against the window a few times, gave up, and tried again. Stupid little insect. They always knew how to get in, but never could get out again, as if they were determined to be as annoying as possible.
Jason reached out to its little mind. He showed it a strong image of the crack under the door into the hallway. If the human brain was like a supercomputer, then a fly's brain was little more than a few circuits. It didn't take much effort for him to yank the reins towards that door and point the fly in the right direction. And it buzzed, and hesitated, and then took the path under the door. 
Peace and quiet again, relatively. Jason shifted in his chair. He still felt frustrated. Small victories made no difference until this whole situation was resolved. But this had thrown a wrench in the gears.
Wasn't it funny how things always took a turn for the worse, at the worst possible moment.
==Chapter Four: Between the Earth and Sky==
Cielo didn’t like killing. She ran the scenario through her head again and again, every time thinking of some new little detail that could have changed, something she could have done differently. Maybe nobody had to die. Not even those horrible creatures. 
She didn’t even know what they were, or how they got to look human. They weren’t illusions; they were certainly solid. One of them had shot out her tires. The other had grabbed the girl. So they were real, in some sense; they were corporeal. But other than that, all she could tell was that they didn’t belong here. It sounded silly to put it like that, but she knew that she was right. They gave off this sense of unspeakable dread, like the feeling of the dark. It was heavy and stuffy enough to make you want to vomit, but cold enough to make you want to curl up into a ball and close your eyes. She only felt that way around the beings who were interlopers; not meant to exist on planet Earth, not meant to touch soil and breathe oxygen. 
Cielo knew, in her head, that what she had killed on the highway had deserved to die, and she knew that there had been no other choice. But she cared too much to let it go. Levy and Michael and everyone else in her life had assured her that caring too much was guaranteed to create some kind of failure in this job. Sentimentality led to distractions, and distractions could easily lead to death. But she couldn’t just stop caring. There was always too much at stake. Maybe she would relax and take her mind off things after this whole situation was resolved, go on vacation or something. Vacation would be nice. 
“Hey, miss. . .” Russo was standing in the middle of the hallway, right in front of her. Cielo had been looking down as she paced. She hadn’t even noticed him move.
“While we’re waiting, do you wanna explain a few things?”
---
Sitting beside each other in cool leather chairs, they both played with their hands, both of them reduced to the same level of anxiety and confusion. 
“Not sure how much more I can explain,” She began, “That you’d understand. You don’t just get thrown into this life and expect to know the whole lay of the land all at once. It took me years to sleep soundly at night after the first time I saw those things that were pretending to be cops earlier.” 
It was ridiculous. It had to be ridiculous. But the way she said that still made a cold chill travel down Russo’s back. “Those things that were pretending to be cops.” It sounded the same way that scary campfire stories had sounded when he was a kid: not believable at all, but powerful and frightening regardless. 
“You’re the only normal person I know who got to see this stuff, anyway.” She went on, “So I don’t really know how you’re supposed to cope with this.”
“What do you mean, normal?”
Cielo paused to think about that for a second. It was a good question. She knew she meant someone who didn't know about the things she did, but it was hard for her to imagine what that was like. And, after all, she didn't know for certain that Russo didn't know any of the secrets. He just seemed like the kind of person that generally minded their own business and led a typical, the-American-dream sort of life. 
Cielo herself couldn't remember a time when she wasn't aware that flying was possible. One of her earliest memories was of the feeling of cool grass just under her chin, as her entire body hovered just barely an inch above the ground. The sun was warm and the grass was green, and an energy like magnetism was thrumming through her hands, as she carefully balanced herself on nothing. No hands, no legs, no nothing. Hanging in between the earth and sky, holding on to an energy that she could feel, but couldn't see or define. It was like magic. 
Her grandmother had walked up and was cheering her on, clapping, so delighted that her daughter was finally able to imitate her. She had taught Cielo little tricks and exercises to help with it -- always believe in it, always focus, keep your hands open and your mind focused -- and it wouldn't have worked on anyone but a child. Cielo, as young as she was, had no problems believing that this was in fact possible. She took it for granted. To Cielo, flying was simply the next step after crawling and then walking. Her grandmother did it, her mother did it, her brothers and sister did it. It was normal.
As her grandmother had approached her, Cielo had lost her focus and fallen back into the grass. But she just giggled. It was enough for now, and she knew she could do it again.
And she did. Years of training, meditation and intense focus, and always believing, just like she always had. Never losing that clear and perfect faith. Cielo was eventually able to do things without making motions. She could focus on a light switch and flick it up. It barely took any force at all. 
Sometimes she wondered how other people even existed, in their world that was so mundane and so restrictive.
She looked up at Russo again. He seemed like that, like one of the many people that neither knew nor cared that there was a world of possibilities being kept from them. Surely, that shouldn't be considered "normal." Maybe normal didn't even exist.
"I . . . don't know." She admitted. "It's just that you're not used to any of this stuff. Levy was born that way, so he’s never been “normal” at all. Jason was born his way, too, although he didn’t really know what to do with it until he met us. And my mother taught me how to do what I do since I was a little kid. We’ve all known that there was more to the world than meets the eye, but you . . .”
“I’m an idiot, right?”
“No. And you can stop it with the pity-party, already. We didn’t want you to go through this. It was your decision.”
Russo shrugged. 
“You’re just . . . in over your head.” She concluded.
Yeah, you got that right, Russo thought, and I guess I’m along for the ride, now. That sounded about right. Have good intentions, get in over his head, go through hell and then probably leave. He’d gone through a lot of things that way. He chuckled. 
“What?” Cielo asked. 
Russo gestured vaguely. “Just the whole thing.”
Cielo laughed with him. “Welcome to my life.” 
The laughter was warm and genuine, but brief. Cielo couldn’t help wondering if Russo would ever be someone they could trust, if he would ever become comfortable with this life. He seemed like the kind of man that was too stubborn to listen to their advice. And she couldn’t exactly just take care of him in a more direct way -- this wasn’t the mob. Levy had reminded her of that several times, early on. They were the goodguys. They didn’t try to right wrongs before the wrongs had even happened. They would preserve justice and peace at all costs, even if it meant tempting danger. And Russo would be a dangerous person to have around, that seemed certain.  
She heard something and looked up. Levy was approaching them, and when he got close, he spoke. 
“We need to leave now.”
---
Like most of its kind, it had never been given a name. Only an identification number: 12-11. But, like most of the newer and more intelligent variety, it had chosen one. It called itself Fafnir.
Walking on four legs like a gorilla was still the more comfortable position for it. Not gifted with the more human posture and resemblance, it went to great lengths to prove that it was no less intelligent for it. 
But it was difficult to see the mind of a genius operating within the utterly alien body. It did not look clumsy, but it looked bizarre; Fafnir's movements were like a snake or a centipede, all bristling and alive with scales and spikes that slid along its sinuous curves as it glided along. It was bristling with this sharp armor, and it was all sleek and form-fitting, except for the jagged ridge along its spine and tail. And its face was like a crocodile, but thinner and shorter, with the same proportions of a pit-bull dog, but the color, scales and cold dryness of the crocodile. There was nothing clumsy about it; brutish perhaps, but brutally efficient. But it remained a hard task for the humans to see just how wickedly clever it was. 
The spirits were not so hard to convince. They operated on a plane of pure mind; pure abstraction and logic. And Fafnir was bred to be sensitive to this plane; able even to communicate with its beings, the spirits. 
Two of them had come from the highway tonight, and descended to the dark, dripping sewers underneath the city. They found the reptilian creature lurking in one of the tunnels, and told it about the people coming to the hospital. These people had killed their bodies, they had stolen a human child from the Society, and one of them was Fafnir's own kind. The one who called itself Leviathan. The traitor.
Fafnir had grown angry for the first time in years. Indignation swelled in its chest like a fire, and a desperate hope that this would be the night that Leviathan was killed. 
And tonight's task was not only Fafnir's duty; it was its pleasure. Tonight would allow it a chance to match the traitor in combat. 
A pity that the spirits insisted the girl was valuable. Protecting a fragile human and killing Leviathan would be difficult to do at the same time. And the presence of the others made the job more complicated still; the spirits had given a harsh warning about the woman with them, one who could use her mind to manipulate the physical world. 
Fafnir growled as it squeezed through a manhole cover to emerge into a back alley. It shook off the sewer-water like a dog, then dove into the shadows and slunk along the wall. Finding the entrance to the basement, it forced open the door and entered freely. Fafnir could hear, feel, smell and taste no signs of life in the basement, although people were murmuring and buzzing just above on the ground floor. 
Just for the moment, alone. And that was all it needed. Fafnir crawled along the buzzing lines of electricity, the wires like a bloodstream for the building, and followed them to where they all connected. It stood in front of the circuit breakers, fastened sharp and steel-hard claws around the first box, and began to wrench it open.
---
Pale blue light filtered through the blinds on the window, illuminating the girl’s bed, where she slept as still as a marble statue.  Everything looked quiet, but Jason could feel the thoughts outside the room beginning to boil to a red heat. He was already standing up when Levy and Cielo rushed in, with Russo at their heels. 
“They’re coming here now.” Levy declared. “One of my kind.”
Jason’s face turned noticeably paler, even in the room’s dim light. “Here?”
"Yes."
“Hold on, what the hell,” Russo interjected, “How do you know?”
“I can hear it.” Levy said quickly without even turning to face him. He went on speaking to Jason: “We are defenseless here. We need to take her to a safe place immediately. Can we do that?”
Jason shrugged and tilted his head in an exasperated expression. “She’s still recovering, but she’s stable, so, sure.” 
“Good. Then we leave now.” 
"Would they really risk that?” Cielo wondered out loud. “Coming here in front of people? In a hospital?” 
“They have done worse before, and never been exposed for it.” Levy replied as he scooped up the girl and turned toward the door. 
Russo silently wondered how much more of this he could take. It was like he had stumbled onto a group of insane asylum escapees, but he was suddenly wondering if he actually believed their story, and powerless to do anything about it if he didn’t. 
“Did you find anything in her head, Jason?” Levy asked as they all exited the room, beginning to walk down the bright white hallway towards the elevator. 
“Nothing.” He replied. “That’s the thing. Nobody has nothing in their heads, not unless they’re dead, but she’s alive. Right?” 
“Hm.” Levy grunted. “You and I can dig more deeply when we reach safety.”
“It is getting close now.” He said. “Stay alert. We will have to fight.” 
“What!?” Russo said. 
The hallway disappeared into blackness as every light in the building shut off.
---
Russo had been shouting questions at Levy, but everyone was silent, and Levy had never even bothered to quiet him. The quiet was the worst thing. Levy seemed to be straining to focus, and his fingers curled as he clutched the girl more tightly.
Russo was alone, and he knew he was alone, and there was nothing he could do about this. There was a storm coming and he was merely a mortal man, a bystander, powerless and afraid.
Cielo had all the power in the world that she would ever need, strong and in her prime, but she was blind. The dark and the quiet seemed to suffocate her. Much good her power would do her, if she didn't even know what to do with it.
Jason was reeling, sweating, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to block out the hurricane of thoughts that had exploded in the building. Some of the minds had simply disappeared. Jason grimly noted that some of the patients must have died when the power was cut off whatever was supporting their life, or during surgeries that had stopped dead in their tracks. His thoughts were occupied by these people, these hundreds of people in a flurry of activity as they rushed to save what they could, but his thoughts were not on what was happening where he was, in the hallway where he was standing. He might as well have been asleep.
And Levy stood in the center of the hallway, clutching the girl to his chest like a baby -- in fact, he was big enough to make her look like one by comparison -- and staying perfectly still, not even breathing, as he focused and analyzed every tiny noise, every smell, everything that could possibly be a warning for the beast that was stalking them. 
None of it was enough.
---
"I don't even know what happened, I'm sorry." Jason said.
"You just stood there like an idiot, that's what happened." Russo said.
"There were no idiots today." Levy countered. “There were no mistakes. We were simply outmatched."
All of them were gathered in the parking garage beside the hospital, and standing next to the van. The girl was gone.
Cielo sighed, raising a hand to massage her forehead. "I couldn't even see it. It was like . . . I don't know, it just moved so fast. I've only seen snakes, or spiders move that fast before. But nothing that size."
"It came through the ceiling." Levy said. "It landed upon me, and we wrestled, and it won. And it fled before any of us could have done anything."
"So what now?" Russo asked. "We just lost? That's it?"
"Yes, Mr. Russo," Levy said, "We lost. And now we must determine how to win 'round two.'" 
Russo grunted and leaned back against the hood of one of the cars parked beside the van. Levy was pacing back and forth, his coat flowing around his feet. Jason, sitting on the edge of the back of the van, raised his finger like he was asking a question in school.
"What about Coyote?"
"Damn that man." Cielo said.
"Cielo." Levy rebuked her.
"Come on." She said. "Last time we worked with him, he pretended the car had been stolen. He didn't even try to make up a good lie, and you know he's a better liar than that. He just thinks he can get away with it because he thinks we need him."
"Do we not?" Levy asked.
"What other chance do we have?" Jason said.
"I will never trust Coyote." Levy said. "But we have no one else available for help."
Cielo massaged her eyebrow. "Lord have mercy."
Levy stood still for a minute, and the whole group formed a rough circle, facing each other as they stared at the ground.
Russo sighed and stood up straight. "Well if he can help, then let's do it."
Everyone turned to look at him. 
"What?" He said. "Don't I get a say in this? Aren't I like, a part of whatever this is with you guys?"
"That is entirely up to you." Levy said. "There are no contracts or agreements here. Your involvement is your own choice and your own risk."
"Yeah. Then I guess I am." He said. "Not like I got anything better to do."
Levy nodded. 
Russo was silent for a moment, then he spoke up. "So who's Coyote?"
== Chapter Five: Devil's Bargain ==