rest. I'll be by in the morning."

At the mercy of the moment, he watched as his sister left and took a second to reflect on how much he revered her influence. She had a heart big enough for both of them, and he knew he wouldn't be the man he was today without her. If it weren't for Alex, he was sure he'd be just another bleeding scab on the itchy ass of today's society like his bastard father. Of course, he may've just inadvertently proven to _be_ that blistering, violent rash he'd tried so hard not to scratch. He killed a man with his bare hands today, and he'd never get that blood out from under his nails. His knuckles were stained with death and rage, andBlood flew up from the puddle behind his victim's head, spraying his face and those of the spectating referees. He could hardly recognize the features of the man he was beating to a pulp until he finally stopped hitting him long enough to see that it wasn't Le'Duprie's face he'd been pounding into the ice...it was his own...

In his mind he leaned over his own dead body and looked into the reflection from the pool of blood surrounding his lifeless form. The reflection that stared back didn't belong to him – but instead to his father; the image smiling sinisterly with blood dripping from his cleft chin and into the puddle...the ripples distorting the details of his father's face.

In the hospital bed he slipped from consciousness back into


of this cerebral impound. He was ready to renounce his very humanity and wholeheartedly sell his soul to the armies of Hell just to not even have to _consider_ the possibility of an eternity alone. Fortunately for him, someone, or _something_ , seemed to hear his traitorous pleas for mercy and was eagerly willing to deal—

The surrounding walls closed in, pressing against his front and back, and the swamp of cruor and guts he stood in ascended as high as his mouth, slithering its way past his lips; a metallic and rancid tang. His cage constricted with a heave as though it were attempting to expel him by force, and his body contorted unnaturally, trapping his arms behind him, his head then leading his ascent through a webeyes of a mother who loved him. Ironically, he was not faced with that dilemma now, and if anything, his situation was more akin to being confronted by his mother's wrath. And it was his obedience, not his love, she demanded.

The smirk on her face spawned from a feeling of triumph over her mischievous child; one of anticipation for the consequences that him being reanimated would bring.

Her name was Imala, and she was an abomination.

In her past, she'd acted out such atrocities as the premeditated murders of her parents as well as that of her own sister, and in doing so, saturated her fiendish soul with a wealth of villainous power that could only have been achieved through selfish acts and sinful deeds. Her bloodline was ancient –


enriched with native mystics and sorcery – and the immorality she fashioned her life around had tapped a more insidious source of wizardry that hadn't been awakened for a millennium. The sort of wickedness she inspired in others was a gateway for her blood-magik to revel in terrible evils, and to harvest a type of power beyond that of mortal men. Imala was the reckoning the world of man deserved. She would bring about a plague of horror so devastating that Hell itself would emerge on Earth, and in the end, _she_ would garnish its throne. Lucifer would kneel before her and call her queen, and God in all his glory would crawl to her, wallowing in sorrow, and beg her for her mercy.

She cradled the head offifty feet away – he just looked like somethin' you'd see dead, washed up on shore. It was like every bone in his body was broken, and he was lying contorted in a way that was so fucked up I've never been able to get the image out of my head."

Tara wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but she wasn't even sure if she believed that. She knew she would blame herself if she was in his position – so she just stayed quiet and let him finish.

"Alex wasn't screaming anymore. She was so shocked she couldn't even move. I panicked and needed to get the hell out of there, so I grabbed her arm and practically dragged her the rest of the way home." He


to listen closely, it would be apparent she was speaking English under the misconstrued sounds her tongue had rearranged, but it sounded befuddled or backward, somehow; deranged and unnatural. But the manner of the language spoken wasn't what was important (its obscurity a side effect of her words echoing through another realm). The blood and the pledge of the woman doing the speaking is what won the attention of an audience in Hell.

Her words spoke of a plot five hundred years in the making: a tale of ancient hunger with an insatiable resolve. Imala's aged soul was that of a woman's whose quest for power extended beyond the natural limitations of time, stretching across centuries with enduring patience to be rewarded here on this plane. The lineage andS-like bolts known in pagan ritual as the Satanic "S," representing the "Destroyer" in mythology and worn selfishly to claim power over others.

Dish burgeoning with blood, it spilt over the rim of the caldron and poured from Imala's arms. There was ten times as much fluid manifesting in this pool of wickedness as to what could actually have come from her veins, and it crawled onto the cement floor with a mind of its own, encroaching on where Smoke and Tessura stood.

" **Take me as your Queen, and reign on Earth at my side in** the New Hell! Rise from Lucifer's cage and embrace the strength destiny has promised me! Help me take this planet as our own and rediscover the pleasures of life that many of you


from his elbow.

"Chill out, dude. I'm on level nine," Jimmy whispered back, figuring whatever he wanted could wait until after he got his shot at beating his top score.

Terry just shook his head in surrender, already knowing the consequence of his buddy's lack of focus.

"Hey......FUCK-NUTS!!"

Somehow, Jimmy knew his Coach was referring to him. He lifted his head just as the game's sound took a downward tumble in its pitch, symbolizing his failure at immortalizing a score

"Turn that FUCKING thing off, or we're gonna find out if I can fit that _phone_...into an empty _space_...in yer pasty _ASS!!"_

A few Priests reservedly chuckled at the Coach's referential scold.

"Sorry, Coach."

Jimmy promptly turned off his phone and, nearly simultaneously, Terry's cell rang inside the bag between his feet. He glanced up athis rearview with tantalizing scenery. Two hundred or more bloodthirsty, zombie veterans appropriately dressed in the uniforms they fought in (their garments being re-manifested through the same magik that reformed their flesh), swarmed the streets, ripping off the roofs and doors of cars like peeling shells to get to the meat of the human nuts squirming inside. Streams of blood and flying human limbs splashed out of the mass of chaos, and Smoke groaned in a deep, wanting tone, wishing he had the leisure to join the former American heroes in their voracious feasting frenzy... But there would be plenty of tender cop-pork-chops marinating on his menu soon enough, he thought. And waiting for that moment of triumph would make the rewards to come that much more grossly


exposed exit and his girth nearly completely covered the narrow garage's tattered opening.

Al bundled up into the corner, still clutching his phone in his fists, and peeked through the space between two buckets to see what smashed through his humble botanical hovel. His fuzzy stoner vision combined with a paranoid delusional mind-state warped the image in front of him into something revolting. He wasn't sure what he was seeing, but whatever it was...it was ruthlessly fucking up his high.

......

..........

.............

-Bleepbleep-

"Dude...you still there?"

FUCK!!

He hugged the phone into his midsection to muffle the sound, then turned down the volume and pinched the button, whispering franticly back at his friend.

" _Shut the fuck up, Daryl!_ It's _here!_ It's in my fucking _grow-room!"_

......

........

..........

-Bleepbleep-

"No fuckin' way, bro! What the hell is it?"

Al peeked backinto his garage. J.C. then gave the open air a sharp sniff and examined one of the budding plants perched beside him, head cocked in curiosity.

During this fretful moment of slow, torturous suspense, Al found a series of conflicting thoughts running through his mind. The first of which being something along the lines of, "No... no... no! Not the Sour Diesel!," then followed by, "What the fuck am I thinking? ... Yes... YES... take the buds and leave, you disgusting ape!." But his subsequent actions were what eventually spoke volumes.

Jean-Claude swiped at the potted plant with the back of his fist sending it crashing into the wall, and Al jumped up from his crouched recoil and shouted, "Nooo! YOU BASTARD!!" as if a friend or loved one had


He pushed the tire-iron through Herrera's torso and into the protruding gut of the next guard just as a funny thought occurred to him:

"Pig-kabob!"

With a heave, he threw the two impaled bodies into two fresh ones, knocking the other officers over and pinning the younger marksman beneath the bleeding, soon-to-be-corpses of his friends. The pinned guard reached out for his fleeing partner's ankle as though, in his friend's panic, he'd unknowingly drag him to safety, but instead his grip only tripped him up while Smoke closed in.

Aiming the fully loaded pistol in his hand for the other three, Smoke opened fire just as they did, and the stumbling unarmed officer between them was the first to get caught by the cross.

"Fall back!! Fall back!!" a stocky guard yelledit..." He put his head back in his palms. "You assholes have finally done it..." (Mac had never noticed before, but the top of the Coach's head was like a scene from a dire, warzone massacre with hardly a surviving morsel left standing.) "You've turned me into a fucking lunatic..."

"No...wait..." Carl, rooted at the other end of the lockers, closer to the wall between rooms, spoke up with his head tilted toward the barrier and ear on full alert. "I heard it too..."

Everyone stopped.

They all paused together, and the quiet uncovered crashing sounds, thumps against the walls, screams...and...laughing...

"Jesus, you think their over doin' it a little?" Mac took the ruckus to mean the Hounds were celebrating wildly over their victory. "You'd think they won the fucking Cup..."

"No...listen..." Carl


after all...

Still frozen, Carl stood as still as a man surrounded by a swarm of angry midgets, then slowly reached out to put his hand over the doll's jittering noggin.

"Don't fuck with me right now, Wayne..." He seemed to have fared better when manning up and taking charge of the jittery little runt. "I'll rip that wobbly fucking smile right offa your springy little neck..."

.......

.........

Yep.... _That_ , ladies and gentlemen, is how you take control of a sticky situation.

He let go of the doll's face and it appeared to have taken heed to his warning. Good thing, too. He'd hate to have to take it to the little guy. He was, after all, a valuable collector's piece....Well, maybe not so "valuable" per se, but—

THUMP!!

God damn it, Wayne!

THUMP!!

"Hey, whatpassed out and fell to the floor upon hearing the powerful accent of the dead villain, Jean-Claude Le'Duprie.

Carl, being the closest to him, was the only one coherent enough to breathe a word.

"...Jean-Claude...?"

He could hardly even whisper the name, but did so in hopes that in facing the monster, his delusion would deteriorate and he'd find himself waking from a preposterous nightmare...

Jean-Claude regarded him with the seriousness of a dead-man reborn. "No," he assured him. "Not Jean-Claude..." A smile infiltrated his bearing. "...Jean-Christ."

Carl's mouth gaped at the very nature of Le'Duprie's blasphemous existence.

" **Who wan's to be the firs'..."** he sneered wickedly, "...to die for my sins...?"

Comrie, the closest Priest to the door, sure as shit didn't want to be the first to die, but found he had


away at the squirming heap of Priests while Carl stood by entirely stagnant, too shocked to even breathe, let alone run and hide.

Smash after smash after smash turned strong, athletic men to mush with gore seeping from the bottom of the pile, slowly approaching Carl's retreating toes. He looked down, wanting to move, terrified of the color of death crawling toward him, but found his feet weighed as much as planets and weren't about to budge. He stared into the oozing lake of human butchery – his eyes froze open – until he was finally able to move...but only enough to flinch when J.C.'s face peeked back at him through the reflection in the blood.

He looked up to see the beast had stopped tenderizing the corpses of histhe time he reached the center, positioned between Imala's propped up knees, he stood chest-deep in nerve endings and eyes, his hands at his sides submerged in the horror he stood in.

The ghastly stew around him boiled at Imala's whim. He could feel the pain of his flesh beginning to cook but couldn't control his lungs enough to scream. Steam rose from around his body while the blood slowly possessed him, slithering up from the pool, climbing over his frame.

" **Soon, the terror you feel will be your strength. It will be to you like the air in your lungs and all who stand before you will fear your every breath."**

He _wailed_ inside himself for control over his own body, bawling and pleading in a broken and unheard


the police were able to communicate with each other or if the same interference blocking out the radio and TV were also a problem for them. Terry started thinking about his teammates and those of the Hounds'. A sickening sensation twisted in the base of his gut and he tried shaking it by thinking rationally. There really wasn't any point in him worrying about things he couldn't control.

It'd only be minutes before they'd reach the street that would lead them to the freeway. The traffic the boys described earlier thinned out over the last hour, but a few headlights still passed by, all going in the opposite direction. The three of them were heading west, more toward downtown, whereas everyone else went east, abandoning the uncertainty of theinner-city to those stupid enough to seek answers.

When they made it to the freeway, the pattern still held true with their side being nearly deserted and the opposite road backed up with absconding citizens hoarding the shoulder lanes. Highway patrolmen stood on the busy side of the freeway trying to maintain order, and as they passed, a few glanced toward Tara and the guys. The looks on the patrolmen's faces were of scrutiny, but they were too engrossed in their pandemonium for it to linger enough to grow into concern. But their concern wasn't necessary. The accumulating layer of blood against the SUV's windshield from the fog grew enough concern between the three of them for them to think twice about the direction they were headed.

Terry hit the


find out it was something else entirely.

He lowered his driver-side window and reluctantly reached out to wipe at the edge of the windshield. He brought his stained hand back in, hesitated a moment, then dove tongue-first into a spastic "Is-this-the-end-of-the-world?" index-finger taste test.

Tara and Jimmy both gaped with surprise, shocked he actually had the balls to see it through. Then their surprise mutated into a fidgety impatience, nervously awaiting an analysis...

Terry's pupils widened at the mydriatic touch of the wetness against his tongue. His heart jumped at its taste like the flavor was laced with adrenaline. The suspense had the two passengers on the edge of their seats, figuratively and literally holding their breaths. They both needed to know what he tasted but were too afraid to ask....Hisof the group decided to speak, unsure of what he was seeing in the aura of the man before him.

"...What battalion you with, soldier?"

Marty cocked his head, unfamiliar with the dead-man's choice of words, still not entirely understanding the situation he found the world to be in after his emergence.

" **What?"**

The Sergeant stepped forward through the center of the group, dragging the body he held by the foot alongside him. He positioned himself boldly in front of the rest and addressed Marty a second time, changing the words he used to better emphasize his question and utilizing a more demonic tone.

"Where...does your... _allegiance_...lie?" His eyes flared with an iniquitous glare.

Marty was pretty sure he now understood the question. And he was also pretty sure he had a fairly


the pile of remains into a jet-stream away from the Goliath. He watched the rubble disperse into the air and then somehow, as if it had a mind of its own, curve away from the path Marty had shown it and stream back toward the monster behind him.

The giant creature continued to gain size, absorbing the scattering remains in a chest-swelling display of dominance, flexing its form in a restless posture while waiting to mature.

Marty figured now would be an appropriate time for a few of those colorful, four-letter-words he'd been saving for a special occasion.

"... **fuck....shit...sshhhit.......ffffuuuuck..."**

His drawn out "f-word" followed his gaze toward the top of the growing soldier. With every curse that fluttered on the wind of his breath the creature gained in size until itbecome what she has and bring him back from beyond."

"So, he really _is_ Marty's brother..." The thought of him made her skin crawl, especially knowing they were actually related. She shivered in between sentences and not because of the cold. "What a _creep_... Reminds me of Marty's dad..."

He hesitated at her mentioning Marty's father, as if he had something to say but was reluctant to do so.

"I hate to keep throwing terrible news on top of a horrible circumstance, but I think you should know: you haven't seen the last of Marty's father. He has a part to play in this as well. And I want you to be prepared when the time comes he reenters your life."

It was official. Fate sucked bull's balls and spat the gooey


bootheels clopping against the sidewalk was an antagonizing rhythm that reminded her of how alone she really was. The street was so silent she could hear her own breathing and it suddenly occurred to her she didn't have a way home.

She knew the phones were down because of the storm, so what the hell was she supposed to do?

Maybe she'd get lucky and find a ride at the gas station, she thought. Either that or she'd have to steal a car...

She almost laughed at the idea. She had no clue how to go about stealing a ride which, until today, was typically thought of as a good thing... But the way the world would soon turn out after her aunt got through with it, the rules regarding socialif she tried and wouldn't believe a word of it anyway... So she just nodded and chose to let fate run its course.

"Well... if you're going that way _anyway_..."

He nodded and tried to smile, but it was a pathetic attempt at one. He had absolutely no clue as to what the hell was going on but figured whatever everyone else was running from couldn't possibly be as completely fucking terrifying as what he'd seen only an hour before. He'd felt the power behind the eyes of that thing that spared his life and knew for sure it wasn't something to be trifled with. His only hope for survival was to do what it told him to, so that's what he was going to do. The rest of the


half a block away, and after a few seconds, appeared to be gaining...

"No fuckin' way..." Jimmy couldn't believe his eyes. Looking to the front of the car at the speedometer that just hit 40 mph, he yelped, "Fuck man, step on it! That thing's still comin'!"

He looked back again at the now only hundred-feet-away, sprinting villain clearing thirty feet or more with every inhuman lunge. The speedometer read 50, then 60, then 70...and the soldier leapt through the air with supernatural brawn to close the gap between them until his outstretched hand came so close that Jimmy could see the caked blood underneath his blackened nails. His clawing fist grazed the steel bumper but couldn't quite latch on. He hit the ground and tumbled a dozen times overbrink of lunacy by the end of all this.

"Looked like a fucking _zombie_ to me." Terry figured that estimation was as good as any.

Tara just stayed silent, not wanting to come out of her shell to partake in their debate.

"Zombies don't have glowing red eyes..."

"Dude...have you ever seen a zombie?"

"Well, no, but..." How should he put this? "...Fucking _Lemur_ Monkey, dude!"

Terry sympathized, but still felt his point was just as valid. "Yeah, well...looks like real zombies – or whatever the hell they are – have glowing, red eyes and can leap tall distances like fucking Lemur Monkeys."

Jimmy felt satisfied by that surmise and allowed the conclusion to sink in. It appeared they had reached a consensual medium: They were being pursued by undead, zombie soldiers with laser-lights for


a bad joke. Seriously. Think about it." He looked around at the five men surrounding him, their faces all trying to string together what he was implying. "Two white guys, two black guys, an Asian, and a wetback walk into Iraq."

This time, Wei was the one to crack a laugh, but Robinson wasn't about to let that one slide without adding to its inappropriateness.

"White boy, please..." he shook his head. "J.C. ain't black... Nigga's French-Canadian." The men chuckled. "The combination of the two renders the idea of him being a 'brotha' obsolete." He scoffed. "Dude don't even watch football... Nigga likes Ice Hockey..."

They all laughed out loud, releasing the tension McMillan's jokes had built between them.

It was the morning after their raid. A platoon of US troops who'denough to know he probably couldn't hurt either of them, but he wanted them to know he sure as hell would if he could.

"Now, what the hell you plan on doin' with that dull ass butter knife, lil' man?" Robinson figured he'd try to talk some sense into the boy. He was sure the kid couldn't understand English, but inflections in speech patterns were generally pretty universal. The kid might not understand the words he spoke, but he very likely understood his tone. "You think you gonna walk right in here and take out the baddest dudes in Iraq with that lil' piece of silverware?"

The boy didn't even acknowledge Robinson when he spoke. He only had eyes for McMillan, and McMillan respected the kid enough to pay him


so many rules, and standards, and political ideals that did nothing for his true calling as a man of pure passion and brute strength. The world had turned away from him, frightened by his confidence and ashamed of his unbridled audacity. In life, he was never truly allowed to live...

In death...he had been set free.

The scenery around him was becoming more and more like something from the depths of a depraved and twisted imagination. Every tree throughout the cemetery was set ablaze, burning endlessly without decay, fueled by the dark magik transforming the city. The faces of their trunks were melted as though they were made of wax, and they sat mangled and decrepit with their roots like old, withered fingers grasping at the ground, trying to finda trio of apocalyptic revolutionaries could possibly need for their first day on the job. But who among them knew the best way to break into a secured building? The front entrances would be barricaded with metal doors behind glass, and the garage doors at the receiving docks would likely be electronically operated. It wouldn't be as simple as shooting the locks off and just strolling in...

Or would it?

When they got there, the glass doors at the front of the building had already been broken into, probably by vagrants looking to score a meal in the midst of all the chaos. But just as she'd thought, hefty metal security doors covered the entrances from top to bottom. They'd been beaten at and rammed into by shopping carts and


heads to pieces, but it'll give them a new hole to breathe out of."

"Nice." Terry liked. "How many of them are there?"

"This one's a display, but they probably have at least three or four more in stock. We just have to find them."

"We probably shouldn't spend too much time here. Maybe we should just grab the ones on display and load up on ammo—"

"H-hello...?"

A young woman's voice came from around the corner of an aisle behind them and they all stopped and snapped their heads around with looks like they just got caught dipping their cookies in someone else's wife's milk. When they saw the delicate expression of a young Chinese girl in an All-Mart shirt and kakis, they were able to breathe easy.

Terry looked back to Tarabike's exploded behind him. Four large plumes of fire and smoke rocked the city streets when the United States government attempted to make themselves a part of this new world by way of force. But Marty knew their efforts would be in vain. They might've gotten lucky and taken out a few random soldiers, but their attempt to hit the cemetery – the heart of the dark anarchy – undoubtedly would fail.

He slowed down and stopped the bike to look back at his City of Angels being enveloped in flames. He couldn't help but be impressed with the sight of it. Its chaos was awe inspiring....One frightfully despotic woman brought about all of this...

He sat and stared for a moment when he realized the changes in the city


and shy.

"You're...you're not gonna try'n _eat_ me, are you?"

Marty looked the poor girl up and down and suddenly realized something: Something inside him was different. Even in spite of their situation, a girl as attractive as this one, half naked and asking if he was going to eat her would normally stir up some kind of hormonal tingling in his undercarriage... But this time...it didn't. He didn't feel...anything...

" **Oddly enough, the thought never crossed my mind."** He gave her another quick onceover, examining her lips, the subtle curves of her breasts and hips teasing from under her shirt, the texture of the skin on her thighs, and still he felt nothing. He hadn't had the time to think about it before, but standing there, looking at this girl,know you're not really married."

"What...?" He was shocked by her suddenly being brave enough to confront his lies.

"You probably don't even have any kids." She stared deep into his eyes with a knowing smirk on her lips, and he turned a new color of pale at the sound of her voice. "What is it you want with me?"

"I... I don't... I don't want anything... I'm just the driver..."

"You waited for me back at the Reservation... Why?"

"No... I didn't... I mean, I did... I just thought you...thought you might need a ride... I..."

His falsehoods were so transparent she felt like she could see right through his skull and out the front windshield.

"You don't really live in Culver City, do you."

"Look... I can't... I'm sorry... I have to do this...


were up there and not being able to see them made him feel even more vulnerable. He felt like if he relaxed even for a second, that was when some giant, slithering serpent from an upside-down Hell would reach down and suckle the skin from off his tender bones.

"Jimmy, keep it movin'!" Terry called out when he saw his buddy getting distracted.

Tara took the box from Kitty, efficiently progressing their line, then focused on Jimmy getting his shit in gear, as did Terry, so neither noticed Kitty wandering toward the front of the car. It was as if she had to see the alley for herself to know what she envisioned before was just in her imagination. She wouldn't feel safe until she knew there wasn't some detestablehis skull-bowl while he watched the boy like he was expecting him to do tricks, then he got bored and nudged his father on the arm.

"Watch this..." He extended the head he ate from back toward the boy. "Hey, kid...you hungry?" Kalon chuckled and Smoke flashed a bloody-toothed grin the boy's way.

The boy looked at him innocently, then reached out and put his hand in through the bottom of the severed neck. He pinched off a piece of neck-meat with veins dangling from his grip, took his fingers out of his mouth and replaced them with the dead flesh.

"Holy shit... He's eating it!" Smoke laughed out loud. "He's actually fucking eating it! Haha!"

"No shit?"

"Yeah, man, I think he likes it!"

Smoke held the head steady and the boy reached


with an invigorated quiver. The car finally came to a stop and Smoke kept his eye on the boy, sensing something was changing in him. Messalum's eyes flared in an icy blue and he clenched every muscle in his body with the swell of vitality surging through him from the consumption of living, human tissue. He shook with his jaws fastened shut and groaned against the strain of growing new bone and muscle fibers.

"Shit..." Smoke had a pretty fair idea of where this was going. "...I think Popeye just found his spinach."

Messalum sprung forward uncontrollably, lashing with his teeth for another taste but Smoke was fast enough to grab him by his neck that'd swelled up to twice its size.

"Get outta the car, old man... Little dude's notimportant to happen.

"Why aren't you tryin' to kill me?" He was confused by its lack of action.

" **YOU...ARE...SOVEREIGNTY."** His snarling voice boomed with extradimensional vehemence.

"...The fuck you talkin' about?"

"You're yer mother's son, ya fuckin' retard!" Kalon yelled though his pain from his place of collapse on the curb, figuring he'd help his kid get up to speed.

" **MESSALUM......SERVES."**

Smoke was still a little stunned by the changing tides but tried to play it off. "Damn fuckin' right you serve, you ugly fuck." He quickly took to the way this whole 'bloodline thing' was turning out for him. "You smashed the shit outta my Camaro, Messalum. You've made daddy very fuckin' irritated..." The creature just stood at attention, awaiting orders. "Pick me and the old man up. You're gunna take


without Jimmy and Terry as part of the lineup). These had been some of the county's most unruly athletes in life, and in death, were likely to be the most uninhibited and brash.

And in the final grave, the last to be buried and certainly most savage, raised the Hell Hounds' infamous goaltender; the barbarian of net minders; the brute of all goalkeeps; the scourge of the Mild Weather Goons Hockey League...

Sally. J. Thompson.

Also known as Sally the Terrible... Sally the Despised...

Yes...his name was Sally. And yes, he was aware he was named after a woman – his great grandmother, in fact. And if he ever got his powerful hands on her decrepit little corpse, he'd kiss her decomposing cheeks for bestowing upon him the toughest name a growingboy could ever have been bequeathed. For it was his namesake which drove him to be the most beastly goaltender in the history of the MWGHL. The most penalized, the most hotheaded, and the most recognized of his position by way of records set, trophies won, and fan-driven hate mail received. Sally...was the manliest of men on a team full of boys...and the only one still brave enough in this day and age to rock a multilayered mullet and a massive handlebar mustache.

All...hail...Sally the Terrible.

Each new creature found their own way from their holes and stood at the foot of their graves, looking at their dead bodies through dead eyes, sniffing the air with heightened senses, and eventually glancing over at one another, wondering who among them would


"Marty turned his back on his own blood! His blood is what made us possible...and he has betrayed us!...We will hunt him down, break him branch to branch, an—!"

"Limb from limb."

" **What?!"**

It came as a shock to everyone that the boy even spoke, let alone tried correcting one of the resident idiot's idioms....And J.C. had been doing so well with his controlled and confident little speech...

"You... you said, 'break him branch to branch'... It's, 'rip him limb from—' "

"YOU FUCK THE SHUT UP, you...you PRIEST!!" He screamed his bassakwards retort and growled the word "Priest" like it was sacrilege to speak it, trembling in anger with its pronunciation. "I would feed your balls to petite pigs before I would let you speak that name to me again!" Hethings just turned to shit when decapitated. He figured it was because Comrie was made of flesh and bone, while these creatures were pure, tainted blood and earth.

He was right. The humans not only still had their bones and meat under their skin, but their corrupted souls as well. These demon puppets were only shells of beings and not much more. They were stronger and more powerful than any human alive but were no match for a person resurrected one-on-one.

The rest of the limbless rejects stayed quiet after Sally finished off the last one to speak. They figured they couldn't do anything to stop him so may as well shut their face-holes and wait around until more of their kind showed up to rebury what was left of


carcass rolled out of another.

Smoke then picked his father up and swung his body over his shoulder like a sack of bloodied jerseys

" **Stay."**

Gorrorgorde heeding his command, he strolled easily toward the barrier. The mysterious energy opened a path when it recognized his bloodline and he waltzed through with his father over his shoulder dripping a trail of still-human hemoglobin behind.

As he approached the moat, broken torsos and severed body parts all surfaced from the gore-depths and came together to form a crossway under Smoke's every step. The parts held well beneath his heavy feet, fitting together near seamlessly. When he reached the halfway point where Sally was still making his way across, he looked over to him and offered a sarcastic nod.

"Nice night for a _swim_."

Sally scowledat Smoke's pomposity when he laughed and passed him by, the body parts bridge disassembling behind him as he made his way to the opposite shore. Seconds later, the fortress doors parted and allowed the haughty young prince of the cemetery to enter, then brutishly sealed shut behind.

But Sally soldiered on through the sludge like a man on a mission, rejuvenated by Smoke's insulting dismissal, and noticed a handful of floating eyes around him all gawking his way, watching him progress slow but steady. He wondered if his queen could see through them, tracking his battle with mortal frailty. But it wouldn't be long before he realized not all the eyes were actually floating... Some were connected to the tips of tendrils he hadn't figured out yet to


shriek that nearly causes the old man to shat his shorts; then cut to deranged, undead monster driving slow-approaching ice-cream truck just outside the door...

This next part is where everyone knows some horrific shit's about to go down...

So what does our geriatric hero do? Storm out of his house, guns blazing with murder burning in his eyes? Or keep quiet with his back to the door and hope who or what-ever is driving through the empty streets on a night like this, looking to draw attention to themselves, will pass him by, taking their evil, frozen mud-pies and double fudge-bars along with them?

He couldn't see past the headlights of the truck through its windshield to know who was driving the damn thing, but...did he really have to? Itwas obviously not a friendly civilian working his part-time, looking to sell cold desserts to eager kiddies. Whoever was in that truck was bad news, and the Coach wasn't dumb enough to think otherwise. And since the above Option B didn't exactly coincide with the b-movie horror trend – with its outcome being him making it out of the scene alive by dodging the proverbial bullet – Option A, ironically enough, seemed more like the reasonable course of action. He just wasn't sure if this would be one of those movies where the aging hero stuck around until the end or if budget restrictions would force the director to kill him off just after his first dynamic blaze of glory.

He figured he'd just have to wait to see


his eyes adjust to the change while the truck continued its slow coast toward him, now less than a house away.

Finding it in him to breathe, he expected some undead monstrosity to jump from the driver-side door, growling and snarling, rushing at him in a riled-up frenzy... But nothing but smoke lifted from the holes in the hood – that demented, friendly ice-cream jingle taunting his ears.

He stepped down from his porch and approached the curb before he decided not to wait for trouble to come to him. Squeezing the trigger once again, he marched toward the enemy, stepping out into the street around a parked car and dumping every bullet in his mag into the front cab...but the truck kept coming...

He unclipped the empty mag and poppedswear and abruptly slammed on the brakes, jolting his friends in their seats.

"What?! What is it?!" Tara was quick to be alert, but it was all Jimmy could do to just lift his head and stare, barely assembling a hint of inquiry.

"Someone needs help." His eyes stayed steady on his mirror as he stopped the truck, pivoting in his seat to peer back.

Spilling out from around the corner they'd just passed, a man with more bellies than sense came charging their way. He had the fear of death glossed over his eyes and ran like none of them had seen a man of his circumference run before.

"Shit! Shit! What do we do?!" Tara pulled the pistol from her jeans and Terry picked up the shotgun he had resting


starting from the beginning. "I saw Kitty...when I went back in the store..."

"What?" Terry was even more confused now than before, and Tara peeked her head out from her defensive huddle to listen to what Jimmy had to say.

"She...she didn't know who I was... It was like we never _met_." He realized by the blank expressions on their faces he still wasn't giving them any answers. "I think... I think she was dead already... And her... _spirit_ , or something, was trapped in that store, reliving how she died..."

"Wait...wait... What do you mean dead _already?_ You mean like a ghost?" Tara was willing to listen but needed it spelled out for her, and Terry was just as eager for him to explain.

"Yeah... I guess... I just know whatany sense! They didn't have enough time to make it around the corner!"

"Unless you had your head turned for a little more than a second, you mean."

"Um, yeah, uh, officer 'Blow Me,' is it?"

"Bowman, dick..."

"Well, Officer Dick Bowman, they couldn't have gotten far now, could they? You wanna stand here all night and talk about how long I had my fucking head turned or you wanna help me find this disappearing cab?"

"Whatever, man... Let's just clean this shit up before the rest of the National Guard gets here. Because if we don't, were gonna have one more civilian out there we don't need in the middle of a fucking warzone..."

" _Two_ more. There was the driver and a girl in the backseat. Possibly Hispanic with black hair. Looked


two opposite forces that attract, and for once she sees very little fear in her prey – the green shimmer in Alex's retinas coaxing a low grumble from the demon's throat. The more-than-worthless scrap of foreskin wrapped around human bones taking the shape of the cab driver was a simple creature, like most humans. But even his aura has changed since being so close to the other for a time. The watery, yellow glow describing his souls worth had deepened in color, almost discovering a hint of orange, revealing an increase in strength and courage. It wouldn't be long before he might even develop a conscience and try something heroic...but he'd always lack the will to succeed. He will die in his attempt to save the girl andpetrify her. That second of hesitation was all the demon needed to conjure an illusion in Delgado's mind. She made her think that instead of holding her weapon, she was holding her own severed head with maggots and worms squirming from the holes in its face, mouth drooling demonic ooze.

She was too frightened to even scream until the feel of the insects writhing out of the ears and onto her hands sharpened the illusion – the smell like old meat in a hot dumpster – and she let loose a murderous shriek that tore through the air for blocks. Dropping her gun to the floor, she curled in terror while Tessura turned her attention back to the first of her police victims.

Gibbons' eyes rolled into his skull –


shit."

"You have...no...idea, my man. Women are a very shifty breed. And all of 'em are cock-teases... Even if you don't have a cock."

He nodded in acknowledgment, graciously accepting her input. "We should double date. Your insight on the female creature could help a brotha out..."

"I don't think so, dude. Goes against the natural laws of the _jungle_. Lesbians whose best friends are well hung _black_ men, an' all..."

"Right...right... Makes sense. _Penis_ envy."

"Ohhh, no. Don't get me started on _that_ shit."

"It's true, ain't it?"

She gave him an " _are you really that dumb"_ glare before she answered.

"The reason lesbians are lesbians is because we don't like dick... So, what the hell makes you think we'd want one?"

"I don't like dick, and I'm happy to have mine."

She stopped for aWho did this to you? Who sent you after me?!"

Mac wiped a handful of glop off his face from his position on top of the flattened fence and flung it to either side.

"Our ol' pal Shit-Face is runnin' the show." He chuckled at the thought. "Me and the boys were hopin' you'd take his place..." He lifted himself up from the ground to take a robust stance, chest swelled with undead pride and black blood and brains smeared down his cheeks. "Guess you ain't feelin' up for the job..."

" **I told you** : all I care about is Alex. I don't want any part of this New Hell yur so proud of."

As he got closer, Marty got the distinct impression they weren't alone. He slowed down and focused


in Marty's hand singed against Mac's cranium while white smoke rose from under his palm and a green essence spread below his skin.

The onlookers all watched in awe – none really sure of what was happening. Bobby and Donny could've easily grabbed a hostage from the three standing by, but both were too morbidly engrossed in the occurrence in front of them to move (as was Desi, silently watching from the apartment above).

The effort Marty put into his force carved canyons into his brow, and that energy, in turn, burst from Mac's eye-holes and mouth while he howled in pain. Body shaking, Mac fell to his knees, the grass scorched and smoking around them.

When it was over, the defeated Priest slumped in defeat, still upright and kneeling, andstop even if he wanted to – his hand unwillingly welded to his victim's skull. He couldn't move it away until there was nothing left of the tainted Priest but the echo of his cries and smoldering soot over a pile of bones.

He watched the glowing remains scatter in the air under his palm as Donny's skull fell from his grasp and settled to the ground, leaving a morbid mound of charred marrow and glowing embers behind.

"What the hell just happened?" Bobby spoke up – a big-eyed, meerkat-stare peeking over Mac's shoulder.

Marty looked to Mac first, then to the doe-eyed Bobby Shye, then the three others who still stood watching fearfully from the center of the yard; there'd been way too much happening at once for them to


"...waitaminute... Where're the rest of the Priests?"

"Most of us are scattered across the city looking for hostages to lure Marty in," Mac explained. "Me, Bobby, and Donny came for Alex; Bryan, Newy, and Beezee went to Tara's house;" Tara shivered at the thought. "Obie, Jack, Trev and Relly went to look for you two dicks; Commie went after the Coach, and Carl and Mace went to Marty's pad..."

" **What about Truck?"**

"Truck?" Desi was trying to follow along. "You have a friend named 'Truck?'...Is he from Alabama or Idaho?"

"He's our goalie." Jimmy figured he'd be the one to make her feel welcome to join in. "And I think he's from Portland..."

"Your goalie?...What are you guys, Soccer players?"

All six of them, including Tara answered in unison—

" **Hockey players."**

Desi seemed towater in her face in hopes to snap out of her bombardment of cascading emotions.

Not a good idea.

The trickle of the water on her skin made her realize how thirsty she was and she instinctively put her mouth under the faucet to drink desperately and maybe a little too fast. Six or seven gulps later and she noticed she'd forgotten to breathe. She pulled her head from over the sink and gasped for a lungful of the stale bathroom air.

Her stomach churned.

Standing upright too quickly, she discovered that Earth's gravity had a personal grudge against the blood in her veins. The color drained from her face and she knew if she didn't get closer to the ground soon, _it_ would be the one calling the shots.

So she reached


He asked her if she was okay and she nodded and said she was. He then politely requested she vacate the premises before he made a horrible mess out of the both of them. "That's gross, Jimmy..." was her reply to his fair warning, and she wisely stepped clear.

After the initial bracing for his fight against rapid, explosive forces, he eventually let his body relax with his elbows on his thighs and head in his palms. He'd always gotten "the shits" after moments of high anxiety and stress, but this one felt like he just donated a _kidney_.

After a few moments of quiet, he realized he was shamelessly prying on the commotion in the other room, wondering who would say what to who and how the rest weremuch he must've breathed in from the outside air.

Coughing and spitting, he forcefully cleared his throat then rinsed his hands and face, desperate to rid himself of the film over his flesh that he wasn't even sure was really there. He coughed again and gagged while franticly looking around for a tube of toothpaste that he finally found inside the shower. He grabbed the tube, unscrewed the top, and strangled it at its middle until it spewed two inches of paste into his mouth. His fingers worked to scrub his teeth's enamel, and he took in a mouthful of water to swish the paste around between his cheeks. When he finally spit, it splashed against the white sink revealing a haunting hue of pink.

He looked closely at the


put it, but Alex didn't mind.

"I think the question is: are you willing to take the risk?"

He thought about it for second then decided on a reply.

"Ask me again in about fifteen minutes and I'll give you an honest answer."

She almost laughed. She'd already forgotten what that felt like.

7

"Yo, Bob-O!" Mac called out to his young friend keeping to himself near the kitchen. Jimmy and Terry were sitting on the couch discussing the state of things while Desi poked at her leftover spaghetti at the dining table between them. "Me and the boys worked it all out." Bobby paid his group of friends some mind, eagerly awaiting the announcement of their brilliant scheme. "We're gonna need somebody to go undercover and draw Shit-Face and his crew of ass-bagsand wait to find out what he had in mind.

" **Then we're all on the same** page **."** He looked around at his crew of supposed, apocalyptic do-gooders and felt that for all of their righteous intentions, they might not be enough. But every revolution had to start somewhere...

So he nodded with a swelling of pride tingling inside and confidently addressed his crew.

" **It's Sermon Time, boys..."** His fellow Priests waited for their Captain's tailored mantra – the one he'd recite before every game that would lead to their cheer. **"...Let's go preach..."**

And they unanimously answered their captain with a word. One that instilled strength and hope. One that defined their struggle and bound them in brotherhood – a word they wore with pride across their chests; a


tucked under beanies, boastfully rebellious stroll carrying them off the podium...

"What?" Slightly sticky with stupor from the hold up, Marvin's bloodshot eyes told the tale of a young man who'd been heavily over-medicated.

"You get the legs, man. I got the legs the last time." Shawn, just as spent in the tanked-bank as his best dude, hung slothfully in the moment, waiting for their mutual agreement. Facial hair like lint on his chin, if the town were to put it to a vote it's likely they'd motion for him to just shave it all off and stop pretending his scruff was dignified.

"The fuck difference does it make?" The afore-described "sticky with stupor" escalated to a gooey, mystified squint.

"The legs is heavier. Dude's got big ass feet – fucking bootssomeone walk down the street. Though the US Supreme Court held in US v. Jones that a warrant is needed to place a tracking device on someone's car, the 6th Court of Appeals distinguished GPS in your phone from that case by claiming cell phone users "voluntarily" invitegovernment tracking simply by owning a phone that emits such a signal:

the Government never had physical contact with Skinner’s cell phone; he obtained it, GPS technology and all, and could not object to its presence.

Because authorities tracked a known number that was voluntarily used while traveling on public thoroughfares, Skinner did not have a reasonable expectation of privacy in the GPS data and location of his cell phone.

Even before US v. Jones, Texas law required a court order for police to


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Rachael Ray's Party-in-a-box Coasters.
In Fewer Than Five Years, Rachaelthe secret from day one, the cast didn't find out for some time. The initial cast reading of the script had a false ending, and only later did producer Steven Moffat give them the real script. Moffat's tendency to give the cast and crew curveballs was mentioned on more than one occasion, with Beth mentioning that she had been told to prepare shooting in a desert in Utah before ever being told what the story of the episode would be. Toby Whitehouse mentioned that he knew about River's identity months before anyone else did, as that information was crucial to a line in his next script, "The God Complex" will be airing as the eleventh episode of the season, or the

fourth of the second half.

The idea that Karen's


Smith nails the role. And that as Moffat begins to tailor the role for the actor, the line between Smith and Doctor begins to blur. Piers pointed out that Smith was the first actor to play the Doctor to ever be nominated for a BAFTA award, which given how previous actors had defined the character so strongly was amazing.

Smith spoke about the audition process, and how he didn't get a script until the day before. Upon hearing that David Tennant would be leaving the show, his mother asked him to audition. Piers said that it was the easiest casting decision he's ever been involved with. Moffat sent an e-mail to the staff after the second round of auditions stating: "It's him. It's always been him." Beth agreed, andwould like Roald Dahl, Beth couldn't think of anything to match that, and Piers would like to have Russell T. Davies return.

Matt then took the time to congratulate the departing producers Beth and Piers for all their hard work, and got the crowd to give them a proper sendoff.

Peter S. Svensson is a Bleeding Cool Foreign Correspondent, currently embedded in Comic-Con.


mediate their contraceptive effects both by inhibiting ovulation and by thickening cervical mucus, thereby preventing fertilization. They have functional antiestrogenic effects in certain tissues like the endometrium, and this underlies their use in menopausal hormone therapy.

Progesterone was first introduced for medical use in 1934 and the first progestin, ethisterone, was introduced for medical use in 1939. More potent progestins, such as norethisterone, were developed and started to be used in birth control in the 1950s. Around 60 progestins have been marketed for clinical use in humans or use in veterinary medicine. These progestins can be grouped into different classes and generations. Progestogens are available widely throughout the world and are used in all forms of hormonal birth control and in most menopausal hormone therapy regimens.

Medical uses

Birth control
Progestogens are usedPR-B, and PR-C. Major tissues affected by progestogens include the uterus, cervix, vagina, breasts, and brain. By activating PRs in the hypothalamus and pituitary gland, progestogens suppress the secretion of gonadotropins and thereby function as antigonadotropins at sufficiently high doses. Progesterone interacts with membrane progesterone receptors, but interaction of progestins with these receptors is less clear. In addition to their progestogenic activity, many progestogens have off-target activities such as androgenic, antiandrogenic, estrogenic, glucocorticoid, and antimineralocorticoid activity.

Progestogens mediate their contraceptive effects in women both by inhibiting ovulation (via their antigonadotropic effects) and by thickening cervical mucus, thereby preventing the possibility of fertilization of the ovum by sperm. Progestogens have functional antiestrogenic effects in various tissues like the endometrium via activation of the PR, and this underlies their use in


and nandrolone esters. Dual androgens and progestogens such as trestolone and dimethandrolone undecanoate have also been developed and studied as male contraceptives.

See also
 Phytoprogestogen
 Antiprogestogen
 Selective progesterone receptor modulator

References

Further reading

Category:Contraception for males
Category:IARC Group 2B carcinogens
Category:Progestogens(Newser) – Michael Banks' engagement couldn't have gotten off to a rockier start. Police say the 27-year-old Fresno man illegally scaled the 600-foot Morro Rock off California's Central Coast after sunrise Thursday to propose to his girlfriend over the Facetime app. She said yes, but was upset that he'd climbed the rock at all, reports KSBY. Then, rather than return down the south side of the rock, Banks chose a steeper path down the eastern face and got stuck on a small chunk of rock. "He couldn't go any direction, on a sheer ledge, with his feet dangling 80 feet off the ground," a fire chief tells the AP. Locals heard him calling for help around 8:45am, and a helicopter soon arrived to rescue him.

"It was a pretty


you post in these forums, so think before you post.

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We ask all forums members to provide references for health/medical/scientific information they provide, when it is not a personal experience being discussed. Please
provide hyperlinks with full URLs orAmit Jethwa

Amit Jethwa (also Amit Jethava) (1975 – 20 July 2010) was an Indian environmentalist and social worker, active in the Gir Forest area near Junagadh, Gujarat.  He had filed several court cases against illegal mining in the protected area, naming, Dinu Solanki as one of the respondents. On 20 July 2010 he was shot dead by two assailants on a motorbike.  In Sept 2012, the Gujarat High Court, severely criticized investigations by the Gujarat police who had "given a clean chit" to Solanki, despite arresting his nephew; the court ordered the Central Bureau of Investigations (CBI) to take up the case. In November 2013, CBI arrested BJP MP Dinu Solanki in connection with having ordered the murder. On 11 July 2019, Dinu Solanki and his


Research Agenda for the Prevention of Pain and Its Impact: Report of the Work Group on the Prevention of Acute and Chronic Pain of the Federal Pain Research Strategy.
After the 2011 Institute of Medicine report on chronic pain, the Interagency Pain Research Coordinating Committee (IPRCC) was created to enhance research efforts among federal agencies. The IPRCC and Office of Pain Policy at the National Institutes of Health collaborated to identify gaps in knowledge and address them via a Federal Pain Research Strategy (FPRS). Interdisciplinary work groups (WGs) were established to make research recommendations in 5 areas: prevention of acute and chronic pain, acute pain and acute pain management, transition from acute to chronic pain, chronic pain and chronic pain management, and disparities in pain and pain care; cross-cuttingissues were also considered. The objective was to provide guidance on current research and to make recommendations about addressing identified gaps. Findings from the Prevention of Acute and Chronic Pain WG are summarized in this article. The WG created subgroups to develop recommendations on specific aspects of prevention of acute and chronic pain, including: public education, primary prevention, secondary prevention, tertiary prevention, transition from acute to chronic pain, and cross-cutting mediators. No formal literature review was conducted; however, external advisors were available and consulted as needed. Seven key research priorities were identified. The one deemed "greatest near-term value" was to optimize public health strategies to educate patients on managing pain; that deemed "most impactful" was to determine an association between patient and intervention factors. Other recommendations were related


rpc to be mounted, they do it at virtualisation level.)
sendmail (probably postfix actually, your machine looks like a Debian) is already running on localhost as it should.
For a website you will be opening ports 80 and 443, but that is kind of obvious.

         76.8 ± 49.0             80.7 ± 50.5             75.2 ± 49.3                    74.5 ± 47.2
  Necro-inflammation score (mean ± SD)                       7.6 ± 2.5 (*n* = 326)   7.9 ± 2.5 (*n* = 109)   7.5 ± 2.5 (*n* = 107)          7.3 ± 2.6 (*n* =


been part of the study design since two biopsies 52 weeks apart in peg-IFN plus ribavirin non-responders receiving placebo for 52 weeks was not regarded ethical.

Necro-inflammation scores were improved although they did not reach the targeted endpoints of ≥60% improvement. A closer look at the results of necro-inflammation sub-scores confirmed the positive effects of GL. In particular, the results of periportal or periseptal interface hepatitis scores and the focal (spotty) lytic necrosis, apoptosis, and focal inflammation indicate a favorable inhibition. No such effects have been demonstrated in IFN non-responders before \[[@b3]\]. When this study was planned, there were no reliable histological data available on non-responders. An improvement rate of 60% was considered feasible (by assumption) based on a limited source of information available, but in hindsight this provedSARS, Hantaviruses, etc. all attach to human beings from animal environments. And, apparently few of these can easily pass from people to people.

However, in ‘Anticipating the Next Pandemic,’ David Quammen assures that the U.S. is ‘probably’ no where near a pandemic. His reasons: Hantavirus usually only transfers from mouse to mouse, unless humans in cramped areas breathe in their dust; Ebola will probably stay only in Africa, and SARS only in Asia, etc. He does admit that the next pandemic will probably come from a virus. And yes, he does admit that the next one IS coming.

All the invasions from nature affecting Egypt in the Book of Exodus (Chapters 7 through 12)––flies, dead fish flooding bloody waters, lice, animal infections, diseased dust, fire-filled storms, plant-eating locusts––now threaten the


is the EU’s spiritual force as a precursor to re-establishing that Holy Roman Empire. But its scandals, and low numbers in church attendance do not inspire hope.

Because some EU countries, such as Spain and Greece, now sink deeper into economic depressions, their people go to other nations in the ‘Union,’ looking for work, only to find two barriers: 1) They cannot speak or understand the language of their ‘host’ country; and 2) The ‘host’ country selfishly ostracizes them as unwanted vagrants, only there to prey upon the ‘host’s’ wealth.

All of which is evidence of a lack of collective concern in the EU––i.e. unless nations have past ethnic or cultural ties, most have little sense of concern about how events in a nation 1,000 miles across the continent affectsof the Division of Vector-Borne Diseases in the CDC’s (Center for Disease Control and Prevention) National Center for Emerging and Zoonotic Infectious Diseases, said:

“A total of 2,636 cases of West Nile virus disease in people, including 118 deaths, have been reported to CDC, which is an overall increase of about 35 percent over last week’s numbers. . . . 1,405 (53 percent) were classified as neuro-invasive disease (such as meningitis or encephalitis) and 1,231; (47 percent) were classified as non-neuro-invasive disease.

“For comparison, the numbers reported as of September 4 were 1,993 cases total, with 1,069 cases of neuro-invasive disease, and 87 deaths. The 1,405 cases of West Nile virus neuro-invasive disease is the highest number of such cases reported to CDC through the second week of September since


With only 100 days left until the election, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau likes his chances of picking up seats in Alberta.

"We are going to, not just bring back our MPs, but bring back more MPs to Ottawa," he told a crowd of supporters in Calgary on Saturday.

The Liberals only have three seats in the province right now, two in Edmonton and one in Calgary. Of the 34 total seats in the province, the Conservatives hold 29.

Seats the Tories occupy are often secured by a wide margin. For example, in the 2015 election Kevin Sorenson, running in Alberta's Battle River–Crowfoot, had the second-highest share of the popular vote. He also received more votes than any other candidate across Canada.

The prime minister may predict big things for the province, butArticle 2-302 of the Uniform Commercial Code. Oreman specifically alleges that in order to distribute Panasonic products it had no meaningful choice but to agree [to] the provisions allowing Panasonic to terminate the agreement without cause. Oreman further alleges that the contract terms are unreasonably favorable to Panasonic and that they allow Oreman Sales to be terminated as a distributor at virtually any time notwithstanding the substantial investment of time and money by Oreman in order to promote Panasonic products.
Thus, Oreman asserts that Panasonic's termination of the agreement was wrongful and in bad faith.
Oreman further seeks to assert a claim under New York law for "tortiously interfer[ing] with [Oreman]'s business":
Upon information and belief, both prior to and following Oremans [sic] termination as a Panasonic distributor, representatives of Panasonic


meeting, each regional manager of Panasonic was instructed to select two regional distributors who would be terminated. Oreman Sales was selected at that time. Despite its 1988 decision to terminate Oreman Sales, Panasonic continued in its contractual relationship with Oreman until April, 1990 with the sole and specific purpose of later appropriating Oreman's customers after Oreman had continued to cultivate a market for Panasonic products....
Finally, Oreman attempts to assert a violation of section 2(a) of the Robinson-Patman Act, 15 U.S.C. § 13(a):
From information received from a former employee of Panasonic, Oreman alleges that Panasonic routinely discriminated in price in the major product lines *1179 purchased by Oreman Sales, Inc. including the printers bearing the designation P1124, P4450, P1180 and P1191. Discrimination was accomplished through the issuance of meet"unconscionable" under the UCC.
Section 25 of the distribution agreement provides for New York law to govern its performance. New York law generally upholds contractual clauses that permit either party to cancel the contract with or without cause upon notice.[5]
Where a sales distribution contract contains such a clause, New York law, *1181 whether under the UCC or otherwise, imposes no basis to presume bad faith from a termination without good cause and thus does not render the termination wrongful.[6] In such cases, "the power to terminate [is] unqualified and not even good faith [is] required."[7] "Where a contract gives either party thereto the absolute unqualified right to terminate upon notice, the court need not look to the reason behind the notice to terminate"[8] and the clause "must be enforced


Cir.), reh'g en banc denied mem., 521 F.2d 815 (5th Cir.1975), cert. denied, 424 U.S. 943, 96 S.Ct. 1411, 47 L.Ed.2d 349 (1976).
[36]  Cf. Matsushita Electric Industrial Co. v. Zenith Radio Corp., 475 U.S. 574, 588-93, 106 S.Ct. 1348, 1357-59, 89 L.Ed.2d 538, 553-56 (1986) (courts may not lightly infer predatory pricing schemes); P. AREEDA & H. HOVENKAMP ANTITRUST LAW ¶ 720'c, at 618 (1989 Supp.) ("If the price does not violate the relevant predatory pricing standard, it cannot tend to lessen competition or to have the dangerous probability of bringing unlawful monopoly."). Contrast Summit Health, Ltd. v. Pinhas, ___ U.S. ___, 111 S.Ct. 1842, 114 L.Ed.2d 366 (1991) (on allegations of a conspiracy, under section 1 of the Sherman Act, to boycott and exclude).
[37]  Lomarthat is surely his top priority," Bremmer added.

A power struggle may be unfolding behind closed doors in Moscow right now. But in the opaque, one-man state Putin has built, the public may never find out what's causing the Russian president's uncharacteristic absence from the public eye.

Tom Nichols' comments reflect his views only and do not represent the US Government.


  [1] => Mon - Thu: 8:00 am - 5:00 pm Fri: 8:00 am - 1:00 pm Sat - Sun Closed\",,,amex
    [2] =>  cash
    [3] =>  check
    [4] =>  diners club
    [5] =>  discover"
)

It just seems whichever I use for the $escapeChar, '\\' or '"', it's wrong.
The correct final result should be like this:
Array
(
    [0] => Affordable Dentist."
    [1] => Mon - Thu: 8:00 am - 5:00 pm Fri: 8:00 am - 1:00 pm Sat - Sun Closed\
    [2] =>
    [3] =>
    [4] => amex, cash, check, diners club, discover
)

How to make it right here sovar6(std::numeric_limits<int64_t>::max());
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var6.getZval()), std::numeric_limits<int64_t>::max());
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var6.getZval()), IS_LONG);
   // test boolean
   Variant trueVariant(true);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(trueVariant.getZval()), IS_TRUE);
   Variant falseVariant(false);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(falseVariant.getZval()), IS_FALSE);
   // char constructor test
   Variant charVariant('a');
   char *retCharArr = Z_STRVAL(charVariant.getZval());
   ASSERT_EQ(retCharArr[0], 'a');
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_STRLEN(charVariant.getZval()), 1);
   // test constructor(const std::string &value)
   std::string zapiStr("zapi");
   Variant zapiStrVar(zapiStr);
   char *zapiStrPtr = Z_STRVAL(zapiStrVar.getZval());
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_STRLEN(zapiStrVar.getZval()), 4);
   ASSERT_EQ(std::strncmp(zapiStrPtr, "zapi", 4), 0);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(zapiStrVar.getZval()), IS_STRING);
   // test constructor(const char *value, int length = -1)
   Variant sizeStr1("hello zapi!");
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_STRLEN(sizeStr1.getZval()), 11);
   ASSERT_EQ(std::strncmp(Z_STRVAL(sizeStr1.getZval()), "hello zapi!", 11), 0);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(sizeStr1.getZval()), IS_STRING);
   Variant sizeStr2("hello zapi!", 5);


ZVAL_LONG(&rawVar, 2018);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(constructFromRaw.getZval()), 2017);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL_P(&rawVar), 2018);
   zval rawVar1;
   ZVAL_LONG(&rawVar1, 2017);
   Variant constructFromRawRef(&rawVar1, true);
   std::shared_ptr<zval> rawVal1Ptr(&rawVar1, [](void *rawPtr){
      zval *ptr = static_cast<zval *>(rawPtr);
      if (Z_ISREF_P(ptr)) {
         zval_ptr_dtor(ptr);
      }
   });
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE_P(Z_REFVAL(constructFromRawRef.getUnDerefZval())), IS_LONG);
   ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL_P(Z_REFVAL(constructFromRawRef.getUnDerefZval())), 2017);
   // test copy constructor
   {
      Variant orig(1234);
      Variant me(orig);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(me.getZval()), Z_TYPE(orig.getZval()));
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(me.getZval()), Z_LVAL(orig.getZval()));
      Variant origStr("zapi", 4);
      Variant meStr(origStr);
     ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var.getZval()), IS_LONG);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var.getZval()), 1);
      var = static_cast<int16_t>(123);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var.getZval()), IS_LONG);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var.getZval()), 123);
      var = std::numeric_limits<int16_t>::min();
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var.getZval()), IS_LONG);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var.getZval()), std::numeric_limits<int16_t>::min());
      var = std::numeric_limits<int16_t>::max();
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var.getZval()), IS_LONG);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var.getZval()), std::numeric_limits<int16_t>::max());
      var = static_cast<int32_t>(1232);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var.getZval()), IS_LONG);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var.getZval()), 1232);
      var = std::numeric_limits<int32_t>::min();
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_TYPE(var.getZval()), IS_LONG);
      ASSERT_EQ(Z_LVAL(var.getZval()), std::numeric_limits<int32_t>::min());
      var =


tanker

The tanker Sloman Hermes taking bunkers. She is Loaded, as she is quite low in the water. She Arrived on the 21st, and took bunkers today. Her final destination is Les Escoumins PQ. She arrived from Europe.

Reports on twitter are that a male fell into the hold of a ship. he reportedly missed the transition between ladders, and fell from the platform approximately 1 story to the bottom of the hold.

it is unclear which vessel was affected, It was considered a confined space rescue, which suggests it is the Sara Desgagnes which is tied up at pier 25, typically an out of the way place for Maintenance work to be performed. She arrived from Saint John, and Offloaded at Imperial Oil, before moving to Pier 25.

the injured personresults are probably due to the increased awareness about deceptive advertising practices and the efforts companies are taking to address them, using AI and other technological advancements. With increased information, companies will know where and how their advertising dollars are being spent and be more likely to attain the results they want.

Related: 4 Ways Advertising Agencies Can Protect Themselves From Click Fraud

Then, hopefully, your company will gain new Instagram followers from Milwaukee, versus Mumbai.


such claims are considered to be asserted against the city). See also Smith, 112 F.Supp.2d at 425; Waites, 2001 WL 484082, at *2; Martin, 2000 WL 1052150, at *13. Accordingly, Count III will be dismissed as to Chief Brownmiller, in both his individual and official capacities.

IV. Punitive Damages Claims
Defendants also seek dismissal of Plaintiffs various claims for punitive damages, as to the Borough, and as to York and Brownmiller in their official capacities. With respect to Plaintiffs claims under 42 U.S.C. § 1983 (Count I of the Complaint), the United States Supreme Court has unambiguously held that punitive damages may not be recovered against a municipal defendant. See City of Newport v. Fact Concerts, Inc., 453 U.S. 247, 271, 101 S.Ct. 2748, 69 L.Ed.2d 616 (1981).
Nor can punitivepenetration, recombinant antibodies with modified properties have been generated. Novel antibody formats, such as the single-chain antibody (scFv), exhibit better pharmacokinetics than intact IgG.[@R3] However, scFv antibodies exhibit rapid blood clearance and poor retention times on the target owing to small sizes and monovalent binding properties, which results in the necessity of frequent delivery of such fragments.[@R3] To circumvent these limitations, several gene therapy approaches have been developed to express antibody fragments in vivo*.*

In 2002, Arafat et al.[@R15] demonstrated for the first time the therapeutic effect of a scFv secreted by eukaryotic cells Effective concentrations of scFv were achieved following in vivo administration of an adenoviral vector expressing an anti-erbB2 scFv. Furthermore, in vivo gene transfer via the anti-erbB2 scFv encoding adenovirus resulted in substantial inhibition of tumor


is magical and made out of more tactile types of visuals, so we wanted it to feel like the colors and the parts of them, of the kids, are being pulled into the game in a very organic way. It looked like sand, where you actually could reach out and touch it, with a minimal amount of electrical glowing type stuff.”

When the characters first arrive in Jumanji they soon realize they are game characters with strengths and weaknesses. Ultimately, they find a way to display these as hovering title cards. What might have been considered a relatively simple vfx affair turned into some interesting design discussions.

“The idea was to make them low tech, but what’s interesting is there was a lot of debate just among the designers aboutor shop and book online to customize a perfect Aspen Snowmass vacation for YOUR specific taste.more >

15 Fun Summer Activities in Aspen Snowmass

Submitted by sas on Mon, 06/17/2019 - 09:32

15 Things to Do in Aspen Snowmass this Summer

Savor summer in Aspen Snowmass. Cruise through town on a bike, explore scenic hiking trails, tear through rapids in a raft or test your skills on a mountain bike. Ready for fun summer activities?

Aspen Snowmass has a lot to offer. So, for easier decision-making, we created a list for you of 15 summer activities that the whole family can enjoy.

1. Mountain bike in Snowmass Bike Park, which offers nearly 3,000 feet of vertical and 19 miles of terrain for riders of all skills and abilities. Gain confidence on the trails by


primary liver tumor but not in the normal liver tissue. Importantly, no formation of liver or lung metastasis was detected. The potent inhibition of NPC metastasis suggests the feasibility of combining rAAV-hEndo gene therapy with other therapies for the prevention and treatment of NPC metastasis.for one day…

There’s a teacher across the hall named Mr. S. He’s a fourth grade teacher and he means business. He wears a suit to school and calls his kids by their last names. Or sometimes by a number. His room is a bit like basic training. However, he has an impish streak and loves to drift over to Honey’s classroom and interrupt her teacher, whose name is Mrs. S. (no relation). One day last week, he kept meandering into their classroom. “We have work to do, Mr. S.” Mrs. S. said to him. “You have to go now.” But he kept on drifting back in and bugging them. Finally, Mrs. S. closed the door after him and locked it. A short while later, the kids could hear


2111341 (base 5) to base 8.
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-10077
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11012322
a36 (base 12) to base 2
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What is 1038 (base 12) in base 6?
12112
-20000011 (base 3) to base 11
-3320
-635 (base 12) to base 14
-489
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654
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63d
-104 (base 11) to base 14
-8d
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-2000220100
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10120120
-100111 (base 2) to base 3
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What is 3153 (base 8) in base 5?
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652
-34160 (base 7) to base 8
-20732
What is 13848 (base 10) in base 16?
3618
62 (base 13) to base 14
5a
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-141
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-13ac
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-34231
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bb4
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DESCRIPTION: The NCEP Step 1 Diet is the recommended initial dietary treatment to prevent CHD. However, the effectiveness of the NCEP diet in reducing risk has been questioned because of the modest reductions in total and LDL cholesterol, and its potential to simultaneously lower HDL. As an alternative to the Step 1 Diet, others have advocated a high monounsaturated fatty acid (MUFA) or so-called Mediterranean diet. However, a diet therapy plan based on this diet has not been thoroughly tested in a free-living population. The proposed randomized trial will directly compare the effectiveness of the NCEP Step 1 Diet and a high MUFA Diet in reducing CHD risk factors in a population, defined by NCEP ATP II, to be at high risk for future development of CHD. 120to put the argument I get from the pipe.
This is not the first  time I'm having issues with this kind of problem. It will be much of a help..
Thanks

A:

If you do
ls -l file.txt | cut -d" " -f5 | xargs -0 -I {} echo '{}-50'

you will see this output:
23
-50

This means, that bc does not see a complete expression.
Just use -n 1 instead of -0:
ls -l file.txt | cut -d" " -f5 | xargs -n 1 -I {} echo '{}-50'

and you get
23-50

which bc will process happily:
ls -l file.txt | cut -d" " -f5 | xargs -n 1 -I {} echo '{}-50' | bc
-27

So your basic problem is, that -0 expects not lines but \0 terminated strings. And hence the newline(s) of the previous commands in the


Q:

React Native Web: how do you center text?

I am learning React Native Web.
I've been trying to center text on my web page, I've tried many suggestions from various posts but the text "my name is...His name is..." remains stuck to the top left corner of the web page no matter which properties I add/change in the container. The button, on the other hand, is centered.
Thanks for your help
Code
import React, { useState } from "react"
import { StyleSheet, Text, View, Button } from "react-native"

export default function App() {
    const [name, setName] = useState('Joe');
    const [person, setPerson] = useState({ name: 'mario', age: 40})

    const clickHandler = () => {
        setName('chun-li');
    state' onPress={clickHandler}/>
            </View>
        </View>
    );
}

const styles = StyleSheet.create({
    container: {
        flex: 1,
        backgroundColor: '#fff',
        alignItems: 'center',
        justifyContent: 'center',
        textAlign: 'center',
        textAlignVertical: 'center',
        alignSelf: 'center',
    },

    buttonContainer: {
        alignItems: 'center',
    },

    header: {


he lay perfectly still, it hurt so much he could barely think. Anger and fear warred for supremacy of his emotions.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't believe his father had beaten him so badly. His hands were still cuffed to the radiator; his ankles were tied down to the foot of the bed. His father had never tied him up before, and it was terrifying to be so helpless.

He shuddered as he remembered the long whip his father had used to shred his back and butt. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that his father had gone out and bought a whip for the express purpose of punishing him. At the end of the beating he'd had enough rage in him still to call his tormentora force all on his own. He was smart enough to have risen to the executive level at a high-end security firm just a few years after leaving the police force. Nothing slipped past his notice and he was adept at manipulating people. Ty had never seen anyone stand up to him—not his mother or his sister, nor even his dad's friends or coworkers. Ty seemed to be the only one foolish enough for that.

_Has he changed or have I changed?_ Ty wondered. _Is it my fault or is it him? I'm not a bad kid,_ he tried to convince himself. _I make excellent grades. I'm quiet and polite. I don't do drugs. So what if I suck at football, I got into one of the top colleges


home again—ever!_ The thought of never seeing his mom or Jeanie again sent him into a spiral of despair. _Maybe, after I have a new life, I can visit them. After I've made it on my own, after I've turned eighteen, I can show Dad that I don't need him—that I hate him!_

He finally fell into a sound sleep about four-thirty in the morning. At six-thirty his father poked his head in the door. "I'm giving you a ride to school. Be ready to go in forty-five minutes." Then he was gone.

Ty wondered at the sudden fear that shuddered through him at the sound of his father's voice. _Am I terrified of my own father now?_ He had always been afraid when his dad was angry but neverback in time."

She looked at him skeptically.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to sound convincing. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, but I'd like to talk to you when you get back."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and hurried out the door, trying not to limp.

As soon as he got outside, he realized his heart was racing. _That was too close. There's no way I'd make it all day at school without confessing to someone what really happened. That would get me in so much shit with my dad!_

He set out toward the bus station, limping as fast as he could. It was about three-quarters of a mile away. Unless something went terribly wrong, he would be well lost in the bowels of the city by the time his father figured out he


going to carry you." While he was talking, he unbuttoned his coat.

"N ... no!" the youth said.

Abe scooped the protesting kid up into his arms, hugging him tightly against his chest and pulling his coat around him.

"I ... I can walk!" Ty sounded indignant even as he snuggled into Abe's warmth, shivering.

"You're a stubborn fuck, aren't you?" Abe said, but his voice was gentle.

"So I've been t ... told."

Hugging the kid was like hugging a block of ice. "Fuck! You're colder than a witch's tit!"

Ty launched into a fit of giggles which lasted several minutes. When he finally stopped, he gasped out, "I'm s ... sorry. I ... I don't know what got into me."

"Hypothermia messes up your head too. It usually makes you grumpy."

"Oh."

The wind howled aroundto have some control. Abe's hands were huge and very dark next to his. He took a sip of tea. It was sweet. He could feel the warmth going down the back of his throat.

"Oh, that's good," he said with relief. His hands were shaking so hard, he splashed some tea out of the cup even though Abe was holding it. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, kid. You'll be okay."

"I'm n ... not a kid. I'm eighteen."

"You don't look eighteen."

"Yes, I know."

Ty's mind felt like it was finally starting to clear. _Maybe it's defrosting,_ he thought _._ He glanced up at Abe and noted details of his face. He had high, sculpted cheekbones, a masculine jawline, and full lips. His wide brown eyes were looking at him with so much


The handle turned, but the door didn't open. _What the fuck?_ He pulled harder. The door yielded a fraction of an inch. Something was preventing the door from opening.

Panic flooded him. _Why would he lock me up? Is he planning to hurt me?_ He pulled on the door with all his might. No matter how hard he pulled, a half-inch was the extent of play in the door. He called for help as loudly as he could for several minutes while he continued to tug at the door in frustration. His efforts were to no avail.

Calming himself down, he rationalized, _he's probably not going to hurt me—he left me food... but why the hell did he lock me up?_ The fear he felt shifted to anger. _Just becauseof Abe and a thin, young, blond man. They were standing close to each other, both smiling broadly for the camera. _Fuck, he's good-looking,_ Ty thought as he stared at Abe's smile. The other man was very attractive too, in a delicate sort of way. Ty put the picture carefully back where he'd found it and closed the drawer. He wondered why Abe kept the picture hidden.

He perused the bookshelf then, observing that Abe had an eclectic taste in books. There was everything from _The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich_ , to James Patterson novels, to _The Lord of the Rings_. He finished his inspection with the desk, not finding anything of particular interest. He was just about to turn on Abe's laptop when he heard


a door close.

His fear, which had settled, now screamed to the surface. Abe was much bigger than he was and had locked him up against his will. He had no idea what the big man's intentions toward him were. His heart pounded frantically as he raced to the door. Listening to the sounds of Abe undoing whatever he'd done to block the door shut, he danced in fearful anticipation.

As soon as the door started to move, he yanked it open and pushed past a startled Abe. His only thought was to get away as quickly as possible. He ran out the front door of the apartment, ignoring the protests of his hurt foot. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.

"Ty... wait! Stop,the cause of Ty's fear and anger. The young man glared at the floor in silence the entire ride up. His body was tense, his fists clenched.

"I'm really sorry Ty. I didn't realize you'd get so upset. I really didn't mean to hurt you."

Ty didn't answer him—didn't even look at him.

"I'm so stupid. Please don't be upset."

"Fuck you!"

_At least I got some kind of a response,_ Abe thought ruefully.

Ty stormed off the elevator, his sore foot barely apparent. Abe followed him back into his apartment. He had left the front door wide open.

"Where are my clothes?" Ty was tight-lipped and pale.

"Oh shit!" Abe went immediately to the double folding doors and slid them open. "I threw them in the washer last night, but I forgot to put them


and went into Heartland City with a stack of them. No one has called. He's just vanished."

Linda patted the other woman's arm sympathetically. "Ty's a smart boy. I'm sure he's doing fine."

"He's smart, but he's not street-smart. I'm so worried about him. With all this wind and snow ... I guess it's good that they haven't found his body yet."

"Sshhh! Don't talk like that! He's probably staying with a friend somewhere. Surely he had a plan when he ran away."

Julie's face was an open book. She was clearly startled by Linda's comment. Her surprise soon gave way to guilt, which she tried to hide. "What makes you think he ran away? The police are treating it as a kidnapping."

Linda decided to be blunt. "I saw him the morningto talk about. He didn't want to lie to Abe, but he knew if he asked him direct questions about certain things, he would have to.

_I bet he just dropped out,_ Abe thought. _What a shame. Is there no hope of him going back? He was probably living with his parents until recently, which means his father beat him up—unless it was an uncle or a foster-parent, but he's already mentioned his dad. Likely, Daddy-dearest._

Seeing the despair on Ty's face, Abe decided not to push him. "Well, if you almost finished school, you should be able to get your GED pretty easily. After that you can go to college. You're still really young. It's a setback certainly, but it doesn't mean you can't go college.

Ty looked at Abe


his taste, but it was lovely. It had a lavender theme with flowered wallpaper, a quilt-covered brass bed, antique furniture, and a view of the backyard garden. He would be comfortable here.

Yuri had given him a tour of the house and introduced him to a few of the boys. The house was amazing—the kitchen had been tastefully updated, but most of the rest of the house had been restored to its original glory. All of the boys he met were young, attractive, and friendly—except for Andre. He wasn't sure what that young man's problem was, but he had issues.

He resisted the urge to go out on the back porch for a smoke. He had managed to cut back to half a pack a day. Now that he wastouched him. He tried to hide his disconcert at Kaeden's request by smiling.

"I don't know Kaeden. I'm not really into casual sex."

Kaeden's face reflected his disappointment, and he appeared embarrassed as well. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay." Dani put light fingers on Kaeden's warm arm and unconsciously stroked him.

Kaeden shivered and his skin broke out in goose bumps. When he looked up into Dani's face, his almond eyes were dark with desire.

_Fuck! He's attracted to me._ This realization fed a reaction in Dani as well—a quickening of his heartbeat and a rush of blood to his cock. He suppressed his own shiver of desire. "Let me think about it."

Kaeden brightened. "Maybe you can tell me after dinner. It's almost time to eat. Sally cooks dinner


house he said, "Hey, before we go in, do you want to help me smoke this J?" He produced a slim joint from his breast pocket.

Dani's eyes widened. "Sure!"

"No, thank you." Kaeden's refusal was almost prim.

"You don't get high?" Dani asked.

"No." Kaeden smiled and added, "My body is my temple."

"I'd like to worship in your temple," Yuri said in a low voice.

Kaeden giggled. "Have fun, boys. See you inside!" They reached the house and he headed up the front walkway.

Dani pulled out from under Yuri's arm, not wanting to encourage the big Russian too much. He and Yuri kept walking. "What about the rule of no drugs in the house?" he asked. Yuri was staff, after all.

Yuri grinned. "That's why we're not smoking in the house." He litlife? What did he do before I came along?_ "Don't you have friends you do stuff with?" he asked. Instantly he regretted the question as that intense sorrow flashed in Abe's eyes again.

"Sometimes," Abe said, pulling himself together quickly. "I could invite some of them to meet us there if you like."

That idea scared Ty. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet Abe's friends yet. He was afraid he'd be uncomfortable around them and that they'd disapprove of him moving in with Abe. "You can if you want to," he said, "but it'd also be nice if it's just us."

Abe had offered to invite his friends without considering that he hadn't come out to Ty yet. As soon as the words were out of his mouth it occurred


hot."

Dani blushed, embarrassed that someone he knew had seen him dirty dancing with the preppy guy.

"Do you want to get high?"

"Maybe later. I gotta pee."

"Okay. Come find me when you're done. I'll be watching the dancing."

Dani went around the side of the house where it was dark, noticing that he was unsteady on his feet. The grounds were surprisingly extensive for a city lot; he could not see the edge of the property through the abundance of foliage. He stepped between some bushes, and after making sure no one was around, he relieved himself as quickly as possible. When he finished he made his way back to the main path, pulling out a cigarette.

"There you are. I was wondering where you'd gotten away to." The handsome stranger camewas terrified of being raped. _If I suck him off, he won't be able to fuck me_ , he rationalized.

Dani wrapped his free hand around the man's cock and began to stroke it slowly. _Maybe I can just jack him off._

"Oh, yeah, baby! Yeah!" the man crooned.

Dani stroked for a few minutes, quickening the pace, hoping the asshole would come soon.

"Okay, that's enough of that," the man said. "Let see what you can do with that lovely mouth."

He grabbed Dani's other wrist and pulled them up and back so they were against the rough fence behind him. This forced Dani to bend backwards. He lost his balance and would have fallen if the man hadn't had his hands restrained. The fence bit into the back of his hand,


bruise starting on your cheek. Did you get in a fight?"

_Bruise?_ _The man_ had _been really rough._ "No. I got drunk. I don't want to talk about it right now."

Kaeden looked into his eyes and Dani looked away. He didn't want sympathy.

"Oh, Dani, I'm sorry."

Kaeden hugged him tightly and he hugged back. A hug was okay. It felt good. He bit his lip to keep the tears from spilling out of his eyes. Finally he took a deep shuddering breath. "How was your date?"

Kaeden pulled out of the hug to look at him with concern again. Dani smiled at him, swallowing his emotions.

Climbing out of Dani's lap, Kaeden began rummaging in the cupboard for a cup. "Oh, Dani, it was so much fun! Yoshi could not have beenvoluntarily. But once he got me alone he turned into a total asshole." He blew out an angry breath and looked at the floor. His voice was low but full of emotion when he said, "He wanted to fuck me, Kaeden! He got my pants down and whipped his dick out. I was fighting him like crazy. It totally freaked me out."

"Oh my God, Dani!"

Dani glanced at Kaeden's horror-stricken face and looked away again in shame. "He was a lot bigger than me. I don't think I could have stopped him. He ended up blackmailing me into a blowjob with the threat of a full-on rape."

"Oh, Dani!" Kaeden still held Dani's hands in his, and now he squeezed them. "And how did you get splinters in your hand,


done I also let Raul do my makeup, eyelashes, nails—everything. You should have seen the expression on my dad's face when I walked into the house. I don't think he'll ever be okay with me like this."

"Your Mom came to see you to talk you into coming home?"

"Yeah. And to get my iPhone back if she couldn't talk me into it." Kaeden's voice was bitter.

"Did she take your phone?" Dani rubbed Kaeden's back soothingly. A lump had formed in the back of his throat.

"No. I talked her into letting me keep it until I get the data off of it. She said they're turning off the account though. I guess I'll have to buy one of those pay-as-you-go phones."

Dani knew the phone was a big deal for Kaeden.be punished),_ the voice told him. _(If you don't show her that resisting you is wrong, she'll keep doing it. She'll get worse. She'll become uncontrollable just like your boy. She'll let all the boys in her school fuck her. She'll suck their cocks.)_

_Shut. Up._ Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Tell me your password before I do something we'll both regret," he said through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened and tears began to spill down her face. "It's capital Z-i-l-c-h-3-a-d," she said in a small voice.

He entered her password and brought up her email. With a glance through her messages, he saw it. There was a new one from "roughboy18." _That's Ty._ He smiled grimly to himself. ( _Gotcha now, you little fag!)_

He swiftly perused


and used both hands to try to block Abe. As overcome as he was by laughter, he was still very aware of the muscular thighs clamped on either side of his hips, holding him down.

Abe laughed heartily as he ran his tickling hands around Ty's stomach.

"Stop! Stop! I give!" Ty finally begged, breathless.

"You had enough?" Abe asked. He stopped tickling but pinned both of Ty's hands down on either side of his head. As soon as he did this, he thought the better of it, ever aware of Ty's unique background. He released him immediately.

The look that glinted in Ty's eyes wasn't fear though. Abe caught his breath sharply as heat flooded his body. He climbed to his feet abruptly, trying to control his panting breaths.

Ty lay onhe owned into a small backpack that Abe had given him. He wasn't sure if Abe had meant for him to keep the backpack or if he had just loaned it to him. A pang of guilt sliced through him, but he didn't want to carry all his stuff in a grocery bag, and he really didn't think Abe would mind about the backpack.

He paused at the kitchen counter, paper and pen in front of him, to write Abe a note. Ten minutes later he was still agonizing over what to say, his agitation rising rapidly. He was afraid Abe would come back any minute to settle him down. If he saw Abe, he'd have to face what he felt about him, and that thought caused his chest


a few seconds when Dani heard the sound of sirens. The young man's head jerked up. He looked around wildly, clearly frantic. His face looked familiar. Something inside Dani twisted with sympathy.

It was not in Dani's nature to interfere in other people's business, but he knew the expression on the kid's face would haunt him for days if he didn't help him. He could not simply stand by and watch him get caught by whoever terrified him so. He made a quick decision followed by instant action.

"Hey, you can hide up here!" As he called to the youth, he unlatched the ladder to the fire escape. It descended with a loud clang.

The youth looked up at him in surprise. When he saw the ladder descending, he did notit into your lungs and hold it there, if you can. Take a small hit at first—it's kind of harsh."

Ty took the cigarette from Dani and took a small puff. He handed it back immediately.

Dani took another hit and handed it back to Ty.

Ty didn't feel any different. This time he took a bigger hit. Suddenly his lungs felt like they were going to explode. He started coughing and his eyes watered as he handed the joint back to Dani.

"Careful! That's what I mean. It's kind of harsh. Not like cigarettes."

They shared the rest of the joint until it became very short and Dani put it in a small bowl which he hid in his kitchen cupboard.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't feel any different," Ty said. He