helping to create real consequences for the perpetrators and facilitators of genocide and other mass atrocities. Enough aims to counter rights-abusing armed groups and violent kleptocratic regimes that are fueled by grand corruption, transnational crime and terror, and the pillaging and trafficking of minerals, ivory, diamonds, and other natural resources. Enough conducts field research in conflict zones, develops and advocates for policy recommendations, supports social movements in affected countries, and mobilizes public campaigns. Learn more – and join us – at www.EnoughProject.org

About AFRICAN PARKS
African Parks is a non-profit conservation organization that takes on direct responsibility for the rehabilitation and long-term management of national parks and protected areas in partnership with governments and local communities. With currently ten parks under management in seven countries – CAR, Chad, Republic ofToday’s move on strengthening fundamentals may suggest a near-term bottom for the stock.

Almonty Industries Inc. is in the business of mining, processing and shipping of tungsten concentrate from its Los Santos Mine in western Spain and its Panasqueira mine in Portugal as well as the refurbishment of its Wolfram Camp Mine in north Queensland, Australia, the development of its Sangdong tungsten mine in Gangwon Province, South Korea and the development of the Valtreixal tin/tungsten project in north western Spain.


Yaariyan (TV series)

Yaariyan (previously known as Apne Se Ajnabi) is a 2019 Pakistani drama television series, produced by Erum bint-e-Shahid under their production banner Dramaybaaz Entertainment. It features Ayeza Khan, Muneeb Butt, Momal Sheikh and Junaid Khan in lead roles and Mehmood Aslam and Hina Khawaja Bayat in Recurring Roles. It marks the second on-screen appearance of Junaid, Muneeb and Momal after drama-serial Silsilay. and second on-screen appearance of Muneeb Butt and Ayeza Khan as well after Koi Chand Rakh.

Plot
Sadia and Zobia are sisters raised with strict family values by their father Hamid. Sadia is married to Ahmer but her wedding(rukhsati) was on hold while the family waits for her uncle's return from America. Zobia on the other hand is having an affair with Umair. When she"professional integrity."

Le'Duprie spit off to one side and blood and saliva splat on the ice beside them, his lip busted open from a competitive skirmish the two had gotten into late in the first period. Marty smiled back at the visible proof of his victory-tally, and Le'Duprie's cocky grin abruptly became a bit more businesslike than provocative.

"Alright, ladies, there's only two minutes left in this game." The referee decided to set the pace for the rest of the contest before putting the puck into play. "Let's try an' do this by the book. Either of you two assholes drops the gloves again, yer gettin' yerself a full game-misconduct. We clear?"

They didn't bother to answer. They both understood entirely – but that little intrusive fact wouldn't change their demeanor


coast, Arizona, and Nevada). He was a monster on offense and not because of his size, but because of the "soft hands" he played with that had tallied such tall numbers against opposing squads – and these Anaheim Hell Hounds were not without casualties in his private war on stats.

After getting their strategy straight, the boys perused onto the ice while Jimmy hopped over the boards and got into position. And as if Le'Duprie could smell Jimmy's perspiring fear, he stared purposely at his mark, spitefully ogling, planting his vile seed of hurtful intentions. Marty saw the look from the Hound captain and started to piece together why Jimmy had been so distracted.

He responded accordingly.

"Hey, 'Shit-Fuck!' " He mocked Le'Duprie's bumbling curses with an awkward word-grouping of hiswhat looked like the back of his skull that congealed into a thick, dark puddle behind him...

The arena of spectators was so silent the voices of the refs and coaching staff could be heard from all corners of the Forum. Trainers hovered over Le'Duprie and Jimmy's fallen bodies. They were lifting Jimmy onto a stretcher but no one would risk moving the Hound from where he lay.

Marty was almost catatonic, his teammates guiding him off the ice.

He heard voices behind him, like words from a distant TV that someone left on in another room – "He's not breathing! He's not breathing! Get the medics!" – but couldn't muster up the will to react. He was coherent enough for an instant, however, to utter one word:

"Jimmy...?"

He wasn't sure if


twice about it since he was standing so close to a large, festering dumpster, curdling with thick fermented liquids and moldy organic wastes. Such were perks of the trade when making a living called for secluded gatherings in alleyways where no one who could give a warm and fuzzy fuck would be caught anywhere near in any better shape than dead. His physical and mental wellbeing meant very little to him at this point in his "career" – a fact that brazenly reflected the sort of lifestyle he chose to endure.

His name was Smoke – a street-handle shamelessly describing his most noteworthy pastime: the copious inhalation of gaseous byproducts propagated by the roasting of methamphetamines. He would've preferred the analogy being derived from the smoke the end offeel to the moment, like the eye of a storm, where he went so far as to think he might be imagining the whole thing. Maybe he smoked one too many pipe loads and was having some kind of drugged-up panic attack... But that moment didn't last as the yellow, demon eyes again locked with his and inched closer with every breath he took, tethered to his rising anxieties, breathing in his fear.

It suddenly occurred to him he should be running like hell for hallowed grounds and/or screaming like a woman for help, but the warmth on his face and the stench of its breath paralyzed him, and its heavy breathing assembled in his mind like dark, grunting whispers that were...trying to say something...

This...thing... Its deep, gruff respiring


passed before the time came that the thumping stopped, and his blank stare turned frigged and riddled with hate, glaring at the lifeless body of what he thought to be his only living family.

For a moment he didn't see the bloodied corpse of a dead junkie in the dumpster, but the sweet face of his little sister smiling back at him when she was at her most innocent: the tender age of four or five. She was regarding him with unconditional love and an unworldly bliss that had filled his heart with warmth at one point in his life that now felt like only days before. In truth it'd been over a decade since he'd seen that look in her eyes, and he'd never fully realized how invigoratingthe alley where Tessura had just devoured the soul of a man who, in all honesty, should've been enormously inconsequential, the last public transport of the evening slowly passed, its passengers oblivious to her diabolical mischief.

A young woman smirked at the thought of a young man before her attention was pulled into the alley that lingered in shade like a stalker hiding from prying eyes. Just a glimpse of it picked at her suspicions and reeled her in; uncertainties hidden behind the reflections on the window... But why it grabbed her, she was unsure. Just the thought of this inimical, lonely corridor birthed some slimy seed of disquiet inside...enticing her curiosity with a mystery to unravel.

The brakes on the bus squeaked and the hydraulics hissed as it came


her mother's spirit except for her older brother who'd be a part of their talks through her.

A stretch of nearly a year went by when they'd speak to her nightly. Alex and her brother would sit and tell their departed mother about their friends at school, things their teachers would say, and stuff they did they thought would make her proud. Alex was four at the time and her brother twelve, both reaching for something in the world that existed beyond the confines of their callous reality. Eventually her brother started losing his conviction and growing skeptical of his sister's ability to commune with a woman she'd never met. But the way she'd describe her, and the things she'd tell him his mother would say were so muchof sour mucus on the back of her tongue. She immediately wished she could take it back but hoped to use it to get him to drop his guard.

The middle-aged man behind the prison glass in an orange jumpsuit smiled, although it didn't bring Alex comfort to see. It was a vile and obnoxious split in his visage that reeked of arrogance and deceit. He was a white man in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and a face and stare that looked like it'd been dragged through three lifetimes. Freshly shaven to reveal nicks and scars on a square jaw and cleft chin, he spoke to his seventeen-year-old daughter in a twistedly perverse tone.

"Hey, sugar-plumb." His voice was deep and raspy, not sincere in the


sis." He tried digging up a smile but it didn't really come out right. "And I'm _sorry_." He didn't need to say it; he just felt he should. "You take it easy too, okay? You always worry too much about me."

She turned back and found time in her distracted scamper to conjure up a genuine smile. She walked back toward him, leaned over and kissed her brother on the forehead.

"Don't worry about me worrying about _you_ , you big goof. It's what I do." She took off the amulet decorating her neck that he'd given her from their mother and put it over his head. He looked down at it resting on his chest, picked it up and examined it. "Here, hold this for me. And get somea deep, but unsettled, R.E.M. sleep. This time, however, his dreams were not of busty, bouncy women pouring drinks and friskily biting ears. They were of him as a child, scared and helpless, being hunted ruthlessly like a miscreant.

He spent the entire night in his mind running from his crazed father, fearfully pulling his little sister behind. He was searching in the dark for places to hide, symbolically fleeing from a self-diluted image he'd created of himself: a misconstrued illusion of the man he feared he'd become, conveniently wrapped in a familiar shell resembling his infamous forbearer.

As he found in his dreams, there is no easy escape from one's self. The incessant chase was tedious and draining. Eventually, one would have to stop running, come to face the


space of his cell. The walls were only inches away and felt warm and humid, like raw meat lathered in mucus. The smell was of bowels and iron, the taste of spoiled blood. He tried to yell out, desperate for some element of control no matter how small, but not even the quietest chirp escaped his throat. The absence of his voice was enfeebling. He couldn't cry for help or even scream to vent, and he never would've guessed how helpless that made him feel.

He put his hand to his neck to examine his throat and it felt as the walls around him did; meaty and raw. His fingers hesitantly traced the course of his body to find bony protrusions outlining his chest and ribcage. When his handssitting in the only seat, so Jimmy shooed him along. "Terry, get up. Let the lady sit."

Terry grew a look like, "you've gotta be shiting me," but as it turned out, didn't have to give up his seat since Alex declined Jimmy's chivalry with a forced smile.

"No, it's okay. I just stopped by to see my brother but he's not in his room. Have you guys seen him?"

"Who, Marty?" Jimmy was a little nervous. "Yeah, he, uh, came by earlier. He wanted to check you out...uh, I mean, check out err...up on me. I don't know why, you know... I mean, I'm fine. It's just a few broken ribs. No big deal." He shrugged off the mention of his pain and his friend chuckled at his bravado.

Terry leaned


you guys going tomorrow?"

Terry spoke up and put on a more serious look to address her question. "To the funeral?" Alex nodded. "Yeah, we all are..." He corrected himself. "Well, Marty isn't goin'. I mean...at least not to the service. But, yeah, the rest of us are."

She looked to Jimmy, cautious but curious. "Even you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. The guy was a douche, but...Coach says we all need to go and pay our respects." A shrug lifted his shoulders under sympathetic brows. "Even me."

"That's nice, Jimmy....I mean, not the 'douche' part, but..."

He almost smiled. "Yeah, well, I'll leave the 'douche' part out when I'm paying my respects to his teammates."

She faked a smile. For a second there was a brief silence as the three of them felt a kindsenses returned to her, as if she'd been in so deep she'd have to be depressurized before surfacing into the waking world.

The first thing she noticed while her ceiling came into focus was that she wasn't in her room, but in the middle of her apartment, laid out on her sofa. The second thing was that she was being cradled. Her head was in someone's lap – a _woman's_ lap – but...she lived alone...

She wanted to squirm and writhe, kick and claw, but was still too groggy for her body to move the way she told it to...

Then she realized she wasn't in any danger as the woman's fingers brushed through her hair – and her _smell_...her smell was so... _familiar_...

"... _Mom_...?"

The image of her mother gradually came


flashes of memories that splashed in his mind. The sound of the wind picking up mimicked that of the crowd in his head, and when the lightning would knife through the sky, his fists would bash into Jean-Claude's broken face, blood spraying the ice to the opposite side of each blow.

Marty, trying to drown the guilt-twisted images from his conscience, forcibly tilted back the whiskey and chugged down a solid, four more shots from the middle of the bottle. In his thoughts he saw through the eyes of his teammates as the refs pulled his crazed self off the fallen, former soldier, his fists still swinging in a blind rage. And over the commotion on the ice, a little girl's face stood pale and frightened behind the glass,coach continued clucking paternally at his squad, resembling in his bitching what a mother hen might sound like if she had a vulgar vocabulary and a croaking frog lodged in her throat. Soon after, a notice popped up on his cell's screen signifying a new message. He immediately felt on edge, certain that Alex wouldn't be calling unless it was important, his thoughts drifting throughout the remaining minutes of the intermission. When everyone was suited back up and started filing out onto the ice, he made his move to try to settle his unease by quickly checking his voice mail.

Jimmy watched his friend put the cell to his ear and instantly became jumpy.

" _Dude_...what're you doing?! You want Coach to make you eat that thing?!"

Terry just brushed him


shit. He turned his head to the side with a sour look scribed into his face and groaned.

"Fuck... This guy stinks!"

Then another guard anxiously called out from behind, "Is he dead?"

Officer Daniel Herrera stepped within arm's reach of the body as his thoughts suddenly drifted to that of his pregnant fiancée, Maria, who was two weeks from her due date. He tried to shake her from his mind but, to no surprise of his, she wouldn't budge. He took another step closer, realigning his focus with the Now, and her image just shoved its way back in; even in his thoughts she seemed to get her way regardless of his better judgment...

He couldn't help but think of the first time they met. They were both underage drinkers, gettingthe concept amusing but felt it necessary to show some level of respect to make up for that which his friend had lacked.

"So? We dress the street-pizza up in a Hounds jersey and give it Duprie's number." Mac shrugged. "It'd be like a tribute to his career. Kinda like a float in a parade, except...you know...roadkill instead of a balloon."

None of the other guys seemed to think the idea was as reasonable as Mac did. They all just shook their heads and dispersed from the crowd that formed at the end of the room.

"Aww, c'mon!" Mac didn't bother hiding his disappoint. "Those assholes are over there partyin' like it's fucking Maudi Graw right after they just lost a man!" He wasn't sure if he should be defending his


this time at the front of the room, a reasonably safe distance from the impending threat.

THUMP!!!

THUMP!!!!

THUMP!!!!!

BOOOOM!!!!!

A huge chunk of cement burst from the center of the impacts, blowing white dust through the Priests' locker room; a giant, black fist like a dial sat at the center of the commotion.

An equally large foot smashed through next, kicking a hole in the wall big enough for a rampaging bull to trample through.

The Priests all stood petrified in disbelief, only moving to flinch when J.C.'s fist pummeled through the wall a third time, knocking a path in the cement to reveal all 6'5" of the beast, standing proud as ever, wearing his bloodied-up orange and black Hounds jersey and a solid black hockey helmet atop a colossal, grinning melon.

They all stoodhe wasn't going crazy."

"Good." He was enthralled to hear her perspective on Marty's psyche didn't include the possibility of him wreaking mayhem in the streets. He had no idea how well Marty'd been taking the whole situation because he hadn't spoken with him since the night of the incident.

"Yeah..." Jimmy agreed, then decided on getting another thing clear while he had the chance. "Oh, and the whole 'Marty goin' nuts' thing was Terry's idea, by the way."

Terry brushed off the assigned blame and continued. "Did he say if he was gonna come back here? Or do you have any idea where he might be now?"

She shook her head. "He didn't say. We were just playing it by ear... But I figure he'd probably go find Alex before he'd


Imala's militia. Those bodies that remained intact were buried singly, and those that were little more than chunks of marrow and tissue were thrown into one giant grave at the center of the cemetery (what would crawl from that pit of repugnance would be nothing short of unimaginable).

Few were captured alive, but those that were, were brought directly to their priestess and left to be victims of her insidious imagination. Even she wasn't sure what her fervor would gut from the depths of Hell to create on Earth with the living sacrifices from untainted, despairing human souls. She would bathe in a warm bath of liquid organs to invigorate her mind's eye while they remained imprisoned, clinging to life for no other reason than a false speck ofmuttering, "Jesus... What the hell's gotten into me?" as he took the nozzle from his car and set it back in its place.

The little, cracked display-screen on the pump read: "Please see cashier for receipt," so he capped his tank and checked the number before walking toward the store...

If he could've seen the bloody horror scene he was strolling into, he would've run away screaming for the comfort of his calico cat, and their current domestic differences would've seemed less than trivial at best. Unknowingly so, his only hope of ever seeing his beloved Wifey again was to somehow discover himself to be of use to the demon that stalked him and, unfortunately, he just wasn't the type of person to have anything worthwhile to offer. As it


was excruciatingly strange, and a terrible rotting smell slithered from behind the attendant. He winced at its taste but tried not to draw attention. "...I had a fare... A customer that needed a lift..."

The clerk waited briefly before speaking again, as if he thought the pause would be less conspicuous when, really, it only grew anxiety in the moment before he went on.

"Where did you take her?"

A jolt of adrenaline flushed through the Cabby's veins and that dreamlike state he was stuck in took a turn toward a nightmare.

"What?" His shock occupied his reason and he struggled for words. "How...?"

He wanted to say, "How the hell did you know it was a _her_?" and "It's none of your goddamn business!" – but he couldn't push more than ahis lips and gasped for air, he decided he'd try bargaining with the thing. Maybe he could weasel his way out of certain gruesome death by volunteering to help bestow that terrible fate onto someone else...

"I'll get you the girl! Sh-sh-she trusts me! I'll go back and get her for you... T-t-take her wherever you want!"

Tessura didn't need this insect... The thought of it was offensive. For his insolence, she'd capture his soul and use his essence to cleanse the rot from her congested colon... But even that may be too high praise for this disgusting cretin.

She raised her arm with black claws poised like talons to swipe death across the chest of a sorry excuse for a human – but stopped before inexorably delivering him.

...The girl... Tessura


his pants and he nodded rapidly to show enthusiasm for his immediate cooperation.

"Yes...yes... _Anything_..."

He babbled his verbal compliance with tears and drool, and she dropped him into a puddle of his own piss and vomit.

If she couldn't touch the girl – if Alex was somehow still protected – then she might need this groveling pinworm to transport her to her queen. Her hunt had just become more complex than usual, but not outside her ability to adapt. In the hundreds of Earth-years she's serviced other masters, she'd never failed to collect a soul....This young girl would not be an exception to her untarnished track record.

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Dead Meets the Degenerate and Pig Shit Flies

1

The halls were decked with bowels and folly, the walls painted with the insidesmeditating, with his hands balled into two fists on either thigh.

Smoke was convinced by the sheer size and shape of the man that he was indeed his father but found himself unmoved when seeing him alive. He decided to address him as though he couldn't care less – which he couldn't...and didn't.

"You Kalon?"

Kalon was his father's name. An Irish name that may have held some cultural meaning to it – or might just stand for "Shit-Eating-Mick" for all Smoke could care.

"Who's askin'?" His father spoke calmly with his head still buried in shadow against the back of the cell, voice rough and baritone.

Smoke thought he'd throw his real name out there to see if his father bit.

"Jacen..." He paused before going on. "Your son."

Kalon's head turned the slightest


his face – him still being submerged in shadows near the back of the cell. He raised both dripping fists out in front of him so the light from the hall illuminated them, palms up and still closed, then spoke again.

"Then you'll be needin' these."

He opened his hands and stepped into the light. In either palm he held an eye, and when the light from the hall hit his face, it became clear the eyes were his own. His blood had left tracks down his cheeks that now leaked from his palms, and Smoke grinned proudly. If it were possible for his father to even slightly impress him, he'd have done it with this gesture. Kalon must've known Imala would come for him and knew damn well she'dinner-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


Was this really happening? Terry found himself getting lost in his own mind until he came across a piece of the puzzle that stood out over the rest:

"Alex knows something."

"What?" Tara was surprised to hear him speak and found herself hopeful at his words.

Terry glanced back at Jimmy through the mirror and then over to Tara.

"Alex. She knows...I don't know...something." The wheels in Jimmy's head turned in thought. He knew where Terry was going with this. "She...she's the one who told us Marty was in trouble. She was freaked out way before any of this shit started happening." His eyes focused intently on his listeners, shifting from one to the other, being sure they followed along. "She told us to be careful. She knew something was going on."

"How?"of 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


stood over twelve feet tall and likely more than eight hundred pounds.

" **This...** **This is what I get for pickin' on kids smaller than me in the fourth grade..."**

The giant beast chuckled a demonic laugh and took a step closer, its one pace covering half the distance that remained between them.

" **HOW...WOULD YOU LIKE US...TO** _HONOR_ **...YOUR REMAINS?"**

Its voice was behemoth – a powerful choir of demonic harmonies – and its eyes red beams of light casting a glow in front of it.

" **How about you stick my fucking foot up your ass until you choke on my toes and die...?"** He wasn't completely satisfied with his nervous banter, so he decided on an extra insult to add the finishing touch: **"...you...giant** _dick_ **."**

A "George Carlin," he wasoff at the shoulders and swallow his skull... So he waited, mounting frustration and anger inside.

" **IF YOU DO NOT SERVE...YOU ARE AN** APOSTATE...AND YOUR EXISTENCE IS AN INSULT TO OUR QUEEN." The creature constricted its hold and pulled Marty closer to beam into his eyes. "YOUR DEMISE WILL STRENGTHEN HELL'S RESOLVE....HEROES...HAVE NO MORE MEANING HERE."

With that speech, Marty thought of Alex. Being an older brother to a young girl who didn't have a father often meant being her hero, even if he sometimes felt he wasn't worthy. And he thought of Jimmy...Terry, Carl, Mac, and the rest of the team who may never say it aloud but held Marty in a similar esteem. They all looked up to his strength of body and character, and he'd be


will balance hers out. But the real challenge will be discovering the greater imagination to wield it. Imala was born...different...like you...but twisted, unnatural. She was able to project her abilities before she even knew she had them. She infected the minds of those around her and in-turn grew strength from their corruption. Your mother was immune to her influence, just as you are, but that's only the beginning of the potential you'll discover you hold. When the rules of reality change around you, you will have to change along with them. And you'll find you have nothing to fear from what your future holds other than—"

"Fear itself. Right, I get it..."

"Actually...I was going to say nightmarish beasts that would look to infect your dreams and drive you madher heart and an overall collected sense of composure flow through her chest with her every controlled breath. She had always kept a level head before, but there was more to her strength at this moment than simple acceptance or maturity beyond her years. For the first time in her life, she truly felt as if she wasn't alone. The soothing company of her father by her side and the ever-present essence of her lineage's better halves kindling within gave her a confidence that allowed her to deal with what she now knows. The path in front of her was to be one of a thousand roads she would've never have chosen, but one she was prepared to face.

Her father silently stood witness to her calm change in


to save the Earth, dust her hands off, and call it a strong night's work.

He smiled at her question but wasn't so happy to deliver the cold, hard facts it required.

"That...isn't very likely, I'm afraid." A sympathetic frown replaced his smile. "For one: Imala's spell that allows Hell to exist here also prevents any creature of an angelic nature from setting foot on Earth..."

"But...this is _God_ we're talking about... Can't he just...I don't know... _snap_ his fingers and wipe her off the planet? Send them all back down to Hell?"

"Which...brings me to the _second_ reason it isn't very likely..."

"He won't interfere..." It was a question in the form of a statement that he really didn't need to give an answer to. She threw her hands up to ventfor her to get it all out. "Why didn't you come _find_ me? Did you even know the man who I _thought_ was my father has been in prison since I was four?"

"I knew."

" _And_...?" Her voice shook under the tension of her twisting sentiments. She didn't mean to, but she allowed herself to feel angry with him, aching for an explanation that would help her to cope.

"And...if I would have taken you and your brother in, you would never have been in that place in your life that opened your mind and heart to let you speak with your mother. You wouldn't know the truth about Marty's father, and you wouldn't be the person who you are today." He looked into her eyes, moonlight glistening off the


conduct and civil law would be dramatically reprioritized. Survival would soon be the only real rule of man, and everything else would very likely get scattered to the winds.

She wondered how the human race would prevail. How many would survive the wrath of the Demon _Bitch_ -Queen after she'd unlock the gates of perdition and set fire to the hopes of mankind? What the hell was she supposed to do against that, anyway? Was she meant to save people? Build a boat, collect survivors, and sail off to the farthest reaches of the Earth where _hopefully_ the weather was too cold for the comfort-zone of Hell's natives?

" _The_ _comfort-zone of Hell's natives?"...Seriously?_

No... That would be about as likely as her growing feathery wings and giving birth to twotheir designer drugs. Then she sighed and decided the "lost puppy" look in Alex's eyes was convincing enough to at least fill her in on some of her blanks.

"You came in about an hour ago and sat down at one of my dinning sets. I was in the back cleaning up, and when I walked out, there you were, 'drinking' out of an empty _teacup_. I said it was past midnight and we were closed... You looked at me like I just told you your _grandmother_ had died, then you smiled, got up and _left_."

"Oh..." Wow... "right... I was just...taking your dining set out for a test drive... Seeing how it suits me..." That probably wasn't a very convincing recovery. The lady very likely thought she was utterly


awkward ride up and the strange parting the two shared earlier in the evening.

The Cabby rolled down his window and flashed her something of a forced smile. "Need a lift?"

Alex smiled too, but not completely ignorant of the strange feeling that rolled over her when seeing him again. Of course, it could've just been the awkwardness that still lingered between them making her feel uneasy... But after a short hesitation, she decided on a course of action.

"...Yeah. Thanks."

What choice was there? She could walk to the gas station and hope to find a ride, or trust this ungainly little man to do his job.

She reached for the handle of the door then slid into the back.

"Great timing." She closed it behind her, then caught the man's glance inpossibly the world's most potent combination of ingredients for cultivating foul smelling breath. The stench of it was like a homing beacon, luring Jean-Claude in by the curling hairs of his flaring nostrils. If the Al-Qaeda had played his cards right and threatened to destroy the pizza instead of his youngest son (eating beside him), they might've struck a deal. But when he heard his enemy open the front door, he grabbed the gun he kept in the kitchen drawer instead and put it to his kid's head. He told his son in his language he wouldn't hurt him; that the Americans were too arrogant to not see themselves as heroes and wouldn't risk the boy's life. He promised him he'd be okay, and that the bad men


fired. The first shot veered to the right of the lock to blast through the deadbolt, and the second hit lower, where the handle controlled the latch before it was run-through by a speeding, 9mm bullet. They scurried to pull open the door and had to put some force into it to break away the busted pieces but got it open within a few seconds. Jimmy kept an eye out behind them until they snuck safely inside. So far, things appeared to be moving along as well as they could've hoped.

When inside, they decided only a small amount of food and drink was important. For all they knew they wouldn't live to see tomorrow, and Alex probably had enough food at her house to cover them for thepaused before answering, feeling-out the concept in the speech centers of his brain, then: "I think so...yeah... But..." He hesitated to even bother claiming he was different. He knew he wouldn't be likely to believe him if he were in her...uh...panties. "Do you think I want to hurt you?"

She weighed his tone and the demeanor of his large form and shook her head. He smiled lightly then gave her another tilted heads-up toward the back of his bike so she continued on her approach.

"I... I don't have any pants on..."

He almost laughed.

" **I noticed."**

She stopped beside him before hopping on the back of the bike.

" **I'm headed to my sister's place. It's about twenty minutes away. We'll get you some pants when we get there, I swear."**

She decided


girl up and wondered if the effort would make any difference in the end. There was a good chance she was better off dead – a rotting corpse dragging behind him, stuck to the tracks in the bottom of his shoe. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for him to keep a stranger so close, he thought. In the end, it may prove to be just him and Alex against the world. Everyone else would be unexceptional risks that weren't worth taking the time to try to save...

But then again, now might be a more important time than any to hold on to what made him human. And no healthy human being would leave a defenseless girl to die in the streets if he could help it.yur fractured ribs, you little bitch."

Jimmy laughed with a painful wince, then smirked slyly, thinking he might have some dirt on his friend to exploit at a later time. "Better start treatin' me right, dickhole, or I will narc on yur ass."

"Yeah? Then I'll fill him in on how you Insta-stock his sister, you fuckin' creep."

"Dude...you were checkin' her picks out with me!"

"Yeah, but I'm not the one who saved 'em so he could Photoshop a collage for his desktop background."

Jimmy shrugged. He really didn't see the big deal. "I was gonna use the image to screen-print pillow cases for my room. You know, so I could wake up every morning next to her."

"Ha!" Terry couldn't help but let out a bark of a laugh. He pictured Jimmy


Alex and Marty, he felt they really had no other option – other than cowering in the frozen food section of All-Mart with the rest of the poultry and spineless slabs of meat, hoping not to be noticed...

He squatted next to her and put his hand on her shoulder, speaking in a calm and sympathetic tone. He wasn't sure if what they were doing was real high on the list of intelligent things he's done in his life but it felt right at least... He hoped it was logic and reason guiding him and not some subconscious drive to follow in the footsteps of popular heroes playing in dramatic movie roles. Everyone wants to be the brave guy playing the leading part in the zombie apocalypse movie, butand Tara held only their weapons so they could cover their friends' escape. Jimmy grabbed a large box full of the five extra handguns they found, three rifles, and two shotguns. Kitty grabbed the smaller box that housed the first aid supplies and a handful of other things they decided on taking with them.

They scurried back the way they came, slowing before reaching the back exit – eerily, the scene rang bells in Kitty's mind, resembling her prior delusion's setting too closely. She tried not to dwell, but their "backdoor escape route" nauseated her after what she'd envisioned moments before.

Terry checked the peephole of the busted door to be sure they weren't running headfirst into an alley filled with giant man-eating cockroaches or some other revolting atrocity. Their


still stood gaping at the empty alley – an angry and confused glare burning across his face – but _Jimmy's_ stare just seemed completely emptied of hope. He spoke up to answer Tara's question and could only manage half a whisper.

"She's gone..."

Tara didn't understand. "What...?" She couldn't find the words...

But Terry had seen enough.

It was time to leave.

"Let's go."

Tara looked over at him, dead in his eyes, but he refused to return her stare. Jimmy followed his friend's retreat and Tara eventually fell in line. Terry decided not to think about what it was they just saw, but Jimmy was still trying to make sense of it. He backtracked in his mind, going over all their steps...searching for the missing piece to a puzzle that may never beMessalum pointed out Smoke's passenger window at a two-story building they passed.

"What, like the fuckin' building?"

He nodded.

"Holy shit." Smoke's interest was piqued to say the least... "I like this kid. I think I wanna keep 'im. What d'you think, kid? You wanna be my pet gorrgo-whatever-the-fuck?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

"Nice. Let's stop by a pet store and get 'im a spiked collar."

Kalon wanted a little more information before deciding to treat the little demon like a pet gerbil.

"So, what do you 'gorrorgordes' do?"

"We guard the King," he chimed.

"The King? What, you mean Lucifer?"

"Nooo..." he shook his head. "Not the God King. Our King....The Gate King."

"What gate? The Gates of Hell?"

He nodded and reached for more of the head Smoke was still holding.

"...Here, just take the whole thing, you greedy


He got the feeling he could've taken the thing's claw clean off but just dug into it as deep as the ax-blade above its middle knuckle.

"I said, YO!!" His second holler was with a force and tone the creature recognized. It growled against the pain of the blade in its foot, but before it lost its cool, tilted its head to gnarl back at its aggressor. "I told you: he ain't on the fucking menu!"

Smoke's eyes swirled in layers of magenta as he removed the ax from its foot and the beast finally paid him mind. It turned away from Kalon to stand squarely in front of its challenger, and Smoke figured he was in for a fight, but Messalum just stood there as if waiting for somethingbe first to speak.

Roman Staimos, being the earliest to rise, had the benefit of the most time to take in his surroundings so was the one to notice Jean-Claude standing beside him, grinning sadistically at his own grotesque accomplishments. Roman took a second to recall his former life – and his last memory of his teammate tearing through his locker room and breaking the necks of his closest friends was what stood out most. Flashes of J.C. ripping their coach in half in front of them and eating his meat sparked mixed emotions upon seeing the bastard beside him. But out of all the twisted feelings rousing within, none were rooted in fear.

Anger began boiling in his veins as he glared into Jean-Claude's burgundy eyes.

" **You..."** The power


through his new veneer. All of his freshly undead teammates were impressed with Sally's showmanship and display of mind-over-mater, but Comrie, the closest to him, was getting impatient and eager to get some feasting done.

"Yeah...the whole 'monster mask' thing is a great trick, Sal, but don'tcha think it's time we find somethin' around here to ki—"

Comrie's final word was cut off by the act of his head being cut off by the blade of Sally's goalie stick. He swung it so fast the rest of them wouldn't have had a clue as to what happened if not for Sally still holding it to the side, blade parallel to the ground right over the Priest's headless carcass which hadn't yet hit the floor.

" **My** name..." Sally spoke while stillvoice boomed through the cavernous depths of his lengthy lungs, finding its way through the black forest of his beard.

"There is life here for the taking closer than you think." Jean-Claude knew about the demons herding human survivors on the other side of the cemetery. There wasn't enough walking dead to eat or carry all the people they've rounded up from the city, so they found marching them in single-file lines to meet their own demise was more efficient than dragging corpses by the handfuls. "We will take what we want and eat like kings... But we may have to fight to get our prize."

They all grumbled lowly in anticipation of a little chaos and anarchy and, as if they had a single mind, half of them yelled


had a full drum of 29, 30mm grenades and had been dreaming of blowing up random shit ever since the massive bastard came into his possession. This thing was his dearly beloved, and he looked forward to spending some quality time alongside it, but even he was a little shaky when it came to placing his bazooka in the back of the cab with a case full of 3 ½ lb. rockets he'd traded his mother's antique, grand piano for.

Was it a sense of neurotic paranoia that drove him to acquire two Kevlar vests and a crate full of hand grenades, or meticulous provisioning and well thought out preparation? He wasn't sure... But regardless of the uncertainties concerning his motives, and in spite of him being an ex-man-of-the-cloth,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? It


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 whatevery crack they passed, watching them drive deeper into the city. Every stoplight was blinking red. Every streetlight would flicker as they drove under, threatening to leave them blanketed in dark. Every wall perspired with crimson droplets leaving a metallic stink waiting to taint their lungs. And their every breath was a reminder of the surrounding death they had to maneuver through to find their friends.

Tara reached up and closed the vents so to not have to taste the blood in the air.

What the hell are we doing, she asked herself. I don't want to be here... I want to be anywhere else but here...

Terry looked over at her nervous and uncomfortable eyes. Her hands were shaking. He reached out to put his hand on top of hers


to finally bring their lives to an end?

Maybe if they worked together, they could make it out of this alive. Maybe this thing couldn't break through the cage and all they had to do was turn around and shoot. Maybe all she had to do was open her eyes...

Open...

Your...

Eyes!

Lifting lids as heavy as anvils from over her eyes, she soon found the road in front of her had quit moving. Somehow Bowman had stopped the car without her even being aware...

Maybe...maybe he'd already done what she couldn't. Maybe whatever had stalked them was dead already – a lifeless, powerless bag of bones that was only about as dangerous as a dead doe...

She convinced herself she'd have to find out even though her gut was telling her otherwise. She"Damn it." The raw, death-flavored air was so thick that the culprits could've been on the same block as him, a few hundred yards in either direction, and he'd never even know it.

His first thought was that his fellow officers might have drifted out of range, or that inside the mist wall the communications-distance was shorter than they thought. The protocol was to head back immediately. If something happened to the car next to him and he went searching, he could end up just as missing as it, and the last thing the Police Force needed right now was a shortage of cars and good men to patrol them. His brain said, "turn back now, get more backup and come back strong." But his balls apparently wore the


through the shaft and the cry of a ton of steel shrieked down, vibrating the walls and rumbling the ground around them.

Desi jumped into Marty's arms as he turned to shield her with his undead bulk. The boom of the elevator cart blew sparks and dust through the crack as it settled on the lobby floor, and the Up arrow dinged above while the doors unsuccessfully creaked to open.

They both looked through the swirling dust at the disaster that landed at their feet and then at each other. It didn't take a deep, emotional connection, or some form of supernatural telepathy for them to quietly reach a mutual decision to take the stairs. He set her on her feet and then grabbed her hand to lead her up.

Fiveand searched his racing heart for the hope she might still be alive.

There were no sounds of ants eating human bodies or splashes of blood on walls – but there was a smell... It wasn't Alex. But whatever it was, it was definitely rotting...

Desi came in a few seconds after him, felt around for the light switch and flipped it on. With Marty so intensely focusing his senses, the lights pummeled his retinas with a blinding flash.

" **Ahh...** fuck..."

He instinctively threw his hands over his eyes, protecting them from the shine, and his outburst made Desi assume the worst.

"What? What happened? Is she dead?"

"... **It's** _bright_ **..."**

"What?"

" **The** _lights_ **."**

"Oh...sorry..."

"... **s'alright..."** He shook his head under his palms. "I'm just not used to...being like this..."

"You...you mean...like a zombie?"

He


shifted toward Desi, turning his expression from contemplative to conniving in a blink. It didn't take a zombie psychologist to realize what he was doing when he made his move. Apparently, he decided to "think" despite his brawnier companion's warning not to.

Mac was faster than the soldiers Marty had run into in the cemetery but not fast enough. He grabbed a handful of Mac's dirtied, orange hockey-hair as he blazed by before his outstretched arms could reach their female prize. He flung the dead Priest in the opposite direction with one commanding move, snapping his head back and tearing him off his feet. Mac's powerful body was tossed out of the five-story apartment window like a dog's toy, taking a good portion of the surrounding wall with him.skull simultaneously, and each exited his opposite eye, projecting black goop out of his sockets and into Tara's well-kept hair.

Mac was more surprised than anything else, but knew he was up to his lips in shit when he heard the impact of Marty's size-sixteen's. Before he could react, Marty already had his hand around Mac's wrist to pull it away from Tara's throat. She skidded to the ground with the force of the move which allowed Marty the freedom to plant a solid right-cross into the eyeless visage of his dear dead friend.

Mac flew twenty feet from the force of the blow and into a chain fence bordering the yard, but to Marty's surprise, his head stayed fully intact. He half expected it to break into pieces like


never thought I'd be so stoked that J.C.'s such an asshole..."

"That must be why Donny couldn't be...y'know...cleansed or whatever." Jimmy was finally starting to make sense. They all took in the weight of his insight until Marty decided it was time to activate his squad of freshly recruited kick-assersists.

" **Alright then... Let's do this."**

"Wait a minute..." Tara still had at least two more cents to throw in, if not an entire dime. "I'm..." She wasn't sure where to begin. "...I... I don't know... I'm a lot of things right now... Exhausted, upset, terrified...angry..." She caught her voice shaking and her skin beginning to flush, so she took a breath before continuing and everyone listened closely.

"But one thing I'm not is dead yet." She hoped that wasn't too blunt.affected by what they've been through. He wondered if Terry was as torn up inside as he was that all their friends were walking, talking fertilizer. He wondered if Marty really gave a shit about any of them or if he was just basing his behavior solely on what was expected of him. He questioned if he really would have a better chance at making it through all this by sticking close to a man who would put him right in the middle of it – but then remembered that the other three friendly corpses they'd run into were specifically looking for leverage to use against his ex-captain, and his chubby ass would make for a pretty plump turkey of a hostage.

The fear of death was primary in


silence that filled the cab. Officer Buterhanz shifted after she did. It was as if her unnerved adjusting was contagious, like another person's yawn or itch. She tugged on her seatbelt and he squinted and sneered at the cab's stale air.

"You guys mind if I crack open a window?" It wasn't much of an icebreaker, but he figured it'd have to do.

Todd just glanced back at him through his mirror and Alex shrugged politely and sort of smiled.

"No, go ahead." She wanted both of them to be as comfortable as possible. As if the end of the world wasn't awkward enough, she'd hate to end up hot-boxed between two grown men who might have gastrointestinal anxieties...

Buterhanz lowered his window a sliver to let in some air...but outside wasBleeding Cool showed you the new Doctor Who trailer earlier today. But that was just the half of the Doctor Who panel at San Diego. Peter Svensson writes;

Clips from future episodes were shown at the final day of Comic Con, giving glimpses of the second half of season six. Stars Matt Smith and Karen Gillan, writer Toby Whitehouse and producers Piers and Beth spoke about the show to a standing room only crowd, disappointing many who couldn't make it to the panel due to gigantic lines.

Spoilers for upcoming episodes follow.

Karen was asked her opinion on the revelation that Alex Kingston as River Song is her daughter. "I love it. My mom is happy about being Alex Kingston's grandmother!" said Gillan. She then elaborated that while Kingston knew of


the 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'sgeneration didn't grow up on Who, but still knew of it was brought up. Gillan's mother was a big fan, so she grew up with some knowledge of the show. Toby and Matt got to research the show by simply growing up and being devoted to it.

Whitehouse then spoke about what it took to write the monsters in Who. "Humanity. Sympathy." He mentioned how the villain in "Vampires of Venice" had her own motives and in her way was benign. Whitehouse explained the idea that Doctor Who is an detective story with a new mystery each week, that the cast comes across a situation and resolves it without just killing things.

A selection of short clips from "The God Complex" were shown. Set in a modern day hotel, where


exploding. The eyepatch woman. River with an eyepatch. The crew of a spaceship. Tardis flying threw a window. Viking-esque alien at a bar. A group of three aliens teleport into a warehouse. Rory punches out Hitler. The Doctor looking at an info screen that lists the time and place of his demise. Eyepatch woman telling the tale of how the Astronaut rose from the waters and killed the Timelord. The Doctor's response "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

More Daleks in upcoming season? That would be spoilers, said Matt Smith.

A fan asked if the success of the recent Who-themed album, Chameleon Circuit had impacted them. Smith didn't know what it was, but knew the artist responsible and was very happy to hear of its success.

A Russian fan asked ifthe Tardis would land there, and what scares the cast? Gillan explained that Smith likes to hide in her trailer and scare her. The playful nature of filming in Cardiff was mentioned, leading the crowd to cheer at the mention of the city. Matt Smith commented "I love that Cardiff got a Woo-Hoo. You've never been."

There are no plans that can be discussed for another Five Doctors-esque special. "I just heard Steven screaming from across the Atlantic." said Piers. Beth responded that those were screams of ecstasy.

Only Moffat would know if the Doctor's Daughter is coming back. Smith had to remind Gillan that she survived the episode. "And married the Doctor!"

Smith also wants to see a return of the Dreamlord, being a major fan of the actor who


played him and wanting to delve into the concept that the Doctor has so much blood on his hands, so much tragedy and loss, that there's a great darkness to the Doctor that he and Moffat hope to explore.

When Smith first entered the Tardis set, he was given a manual and consistently pilots the Tardis in the same way. He's even taught Gillan how to do it. "The Tardis never gets boring." said Smith.

Gillain's favorite alien race from the show are the "Sisters of Plentitude. You know, the nurse cats?!" Smith responded with the Weeping Angels as his favorites.

The panelists were all asked who their favorite Doctor, besides Matt Smith was. Piers and Beth chose Tom Baker. Whitehouse couldn't choose between Baker or Tennant. Gillain proudly chose Eccelston.off so well was a shock to all involved. Beth reminded everyone that Smith did design his costume, from tweed to bow-tie, and thus they probably should trust his judgment on these issues. Smith said that he'd hold her to that statement in the future.

In response to a question about why the Tardis makes that distinctive vhoomp-vhoomp noise, Piers acknowledged that so much of the show's iconography is due to the crew of the first season back in the 1960s, a lot of proper, visionary people.

A fan asked why they keep on killing Rory. Gillan answered "He dies really well!" Smith elaborated that it's okay as they keep on bringing him back.

Karen has been given yet another secret about future plots by Moffat, one that while Smith knows


the topic of, he doesn't know the specifics. Gillan gloated about the power she had over him. Smith explained that Moffat's practice of having actors keep secrets helps with their acting, especially since so much of the Doctor is defined by his knowing the most in every situation.

Smith breaks tons of props, and an average of one Sonic Screwdriver a day, as well as a few chunks of the Tardis which need repairing after he's done with them.

If the show could crossover with any other series, besides Torchwood (and presumably Sarah Jane Adventures or that new K-9 series), Matt Smith would like to see them meet up with True Blood. Gillan rabidly screamed out for Star Trek: the Next Generation. She spoke about recently meeting Brent Spiner whoexperience no influence or a beneficial effect on mood. Adverse effects on mood appear to be infrequent, occurring only in a small percentage of women. About 5 to 10% of women experience negative mood changes with combined birth control pills, and about 5% of women discontinue birth control pills due to such changes. A study of about 4,000 women found that progestogen-only birth control with depot medroxyprogesterone acetate had an incidence of depression of 1.5% and discontinuation due to depression of 0.5%. Beneficial effects of hormonal birth control such as decreased menstrual pain and bleeding may positively influence mood.

A 2018 systematic review of 26 studies, including 5 randomized controlled trials and 21 observational studies, found that the overall evidence showed no association between progestogen-only birth control and depression. The progestins assessed included


containing estradiol valerate are associated with about half the VTE risk of birth control pills with ethinylestradiol.

Hormone therapy with high-dose ethinylestradiol and cyproterone acetate in transgender women has been associated with a 20- to 45-fold higher risk of VTE relative to non-use. The absolute incidence was about 6%. Conversely, the risk of VTE in transgender women is much lower with oral or parenteral estradiol plus high-dose cyproterone acetate. Ethinylestradiol is thought to have been primarily responsible for the VTE risk, but cyproterone acetate may have contributed as well. Ethinylestradiol is no longer used in transgender hormone therapy, and doses of cyproterone acetate have been reduced.

A 2012 meta-analysis estimated that the absolute risk of VTE is 2 per 10,000 women for non-use, 8 per 10,000 women for ethinylestradiol and(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


amazing rescue on the part of the Fire Department," a Morro Bay State Park ranger tells the San Luis Obispo Tribune, noting the helicopter’s blades had to get close to the rock face to deliver a harness to Banks, who was back on the ground unscathed by 9:30am. He was issued a misdemeanor citation for trespassing—the fire chief says it's illegal to climb the rock "because it kills people"—and was told he'd have to pay for the rescue, which likely cost thousands. But things only went downhill from there. Banks was "found to be under the influence and in possession of methamphetamine" and ended the happy day in San Luis Obispo County Jail, reports KFSN. (Another proposal with iffy judgment involved stopping cars in the middle of aactivities of an illegal mining lobby operating in the protected forest area just outside the Gir Forest National Park. At the time, Jethwa was badly beaten up by goons, allegedly from Solanki's party.

In mid-2010, he filed a Public interest litigation in the Gujarat High Court, citing evidence found, and naming local BJP politician Dinu Solanki and several relatives, for involvement in the illegal mining in the Gir Forest. He sought directives from the court for stopping power supply to all such mining centers.

In June 2010, a raid was conducted by the police and geology departments, and a number of mining equipment were seized.  However, the equipment was subsequently stolen back.  Dinu Bhai was issued a show-cause notice for imposing a
penalty of RS 4.1 million on him.

Since BJP


in Switzerland, Extinction Protocol explains: “Wild animals including bears, wolves and jackals are on the increase in Switzerland, a government agency said Friday, as it reported a spike in the figures across the country.”

Reinhard Schnidrig, Director of Switzerland’s Environment Department, explains that animals are moving upward to cooler temperatures in Switzerland. The female animals are moving first to protect their young, and males soon follow.

Rev. Repriestly: Use this verse from your online Bible lessons as a starting point, Revelation 6: 8, “And . . . behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill . . . with the beasts of the earth.”

While someexperts believe new pandemics can hit the United States, most are doubtful. Yet the doubters cannot explain rising flu statistics, flu’s attendant diseases, and new unexplainable viruses and bacteria attacking U.S. citizens.

Zachary Thompson, Dallas County Health Department Director, argues wealthier cities can clean neglected pools and other sites for mosquito breeding to fight West Nile Virus, but poor cities cannot. Most inner-cities remain filled with abandoned houses in which mosquitoes breed in tires, trash cans and other receptacles holding stagnant water.

Also, researchers reporting in the Journal of the American Medical Association warn that swine flu brings victims ‘a small but significant risk of Guillain-Barré Syndrome, a dangerous paralyzing nerve disorder. Others from British Columbia University write in Medical News Today that the same flu can also end in


crippling Parkinson’s disease, with chances doubling later in life.

In addition, two more mysterious illnesses are circulating around the world. What doctors call an AIDS-like disease that attacks immune systems, is not inherited or transferred sexually, and usually attacks victims over 50. The Associated Press says this mystery disease is active in Asia and the United States.

Another medical mystery is the deadly superbug that has broken out in one of the most pristine hospitals in the world: The National Institutes of Health Clinical Center. The Washington Post says some 20 victims have been hit with this antibiotic-resistant strain that started in New York a year ago, and seven have died.

Most of these diseases are what doctors call zoonoses, because they can jump from animals to human beings. HIV, Ebola,rate is 24.4% and among young people it is 55%. Economic depressing and growing neo-Nazism: Sure signs of the next world war.

As the Book of Revelation foretells: “And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine (6: 6).” Lying political ideology, hunger, poverty, and economic seduction––all leading to murderous war!

The West Nile Virus is still on the rise, and health officials in this country seem powerless to stop it. In fact, they expect these multiplying cases to continue through the end of October. Some experts say this virus will go even further.

At a tele-news-conference yesterday, Dr. Lyle Petersen, Director


Jacobs, president of the Union of Reform Judaism.

Jacobs opens his message with a note from Dr. Shaye Cohen who claimed that the battle of the Hasmoneans “marks the first time in recorded history that a war was begun in defense of religious liberty and individual freedom of belief.” An interesting point from a Harvard professor with a PhD in Ancient History.

However, the comment was quickly misinterpreted by Jacobs. In the following paragraph he wrote that “The Maccabees fought the first battle for religious tolerance in history. (emphasis added).” That is a complete distortion of Cohen’s comment and of history.

Judah the Maccabee in battle

The story of Chanukah related to the Syrian Greeks trying to Hellenize the Jews over 2100 years ago. The Greeks did not seek to introduce anotheralternative form of religious practice into the Holy Land. They sought to replace Judaism by defiling the Jews’ religious places. The fight was an ALL-OR-NONE proposition.

The reaction by the Hasmoneans was similar in nature. The fought back for “religious liberty” and to rid the land of pagan practices. They countered the defilement of the Temple with purifying the Temple. They responded to the introduction of pagan practices with its expulsion. The last thing that Chanukah celebrated was “religious tolerance.” It was a battle between all-or-nones.

Reform’s View of Tolerance in Israel Today

Judea and Samaria

Rabbi Jacobs misunderstanding of tolerance stretches from his interpretation of history in the Holy Land from over 2000 years ago until today.

In November 2015, Jacobs addressed his reform movement’s biennial in a keynote address. In this


important speech about the direction of Reform Judaism he said (at 24:30) “Our Reform Movement, we have long opposed Israeli settlement policy in the West Bank (applause). The occupation threatens the very Zionism we hold dear.” He declared that his religious movement opposed Jews living in parts of the Holy Land. Seemingly not very tolerant.

He continued: “- the living expression of a Jewish and democratic state. It causes pain and hardship to the Palestinians and alienates Israel from friends and allies around the world. Only two states for two peoples, both states viable and secure, living side-by-side in peace, will bring this tragic conflict to its long-awaited end (loud applause).” Jacobs argued for a tolerance achieved by separation. A divide into two distinct states. However, he really meantand advocate for new privileges for non-Orthodox Jews. He did not seem to care or notice that much of the world considers the Old City of Jerusalem to be occupied Palestinian territory. That same territory which he thinks should be under Palestinian Authority, a political agency which advocates against Jews living anywhere in the area and seeks to stop the “Judaization” of Jerusalem.

His mind-bending views on “tolerance” continued as he led and advocated for egalitarian prayer at the Kotel.

The Kotel is the Western Wall of the Jewish Temple Mount. It has was the area set aside by Suleiman I 450 years ago for Jews to pray, after he kicked them off of the Temple Mount itself. Since 1967, the area has functioned as an Orthodox synagogue, and only


Orthodox prayer practices are allowed there.

Jacobs seeks to change that and demands the legality of non-Orthodox practices at the Western Wall. He is not satisfied with non-Orthodox prayers happening at the Southern Wall (which is actually bigger and prettier), away from the Orthodox services. We wants the Orthodox to tolerate his practices at the Kotel.

This is quite a different approach than Jacobs applies in other situations. Jacobs normally advocates for peace via separation; tolerance via parallel paths. Yet when it comes to the Kotel, (in an area he thinks shouldn’t even be part of Israel), he has demanded to impose his practices in the space of others.

Real Tolerance in Israel Today

The story of Chanukah was a fight for “religious liberty.” The all-or-none approach of the Greeks was counteredwith an all-or-none purge by the Jews. Neither side sought “religious tolerance.”

Remarkably, Modern Israel has taken a different approach.

While the Arabs of the Middle East sought to stop Jewish immigration – even at the dawn of the Holocaust – Israel opted to grant 160,000 non-Jews Israeli citizenship when it declared a state in 1948.

Even though the Arabs expelled all of the Jews from the Old City of Jerusalem in 1949, after Israel reunited Jerusalem in 1967, it handed religious control of the Jewish Temple Mount to the Islamic Waqf.

Even though the Arabs continue to advocate for a Jew-free state, Israel has allowed all Arabs in Jerusalem to apply for Israeli citizenship since it annexed the eastern part of the city.

In a world where the all-or-none approach is typically


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, butthe current poll numbers don't seem to support his theory.

Province-wide the Conservatives are at almost 60 per cent support, while the Liberals sit a distant second at 18.5 per cent.

Trudeau acknowledged that people say his party is in trouble in the western province, but ultimately seemed unfazed.

"Every election people say that," he said. "They were wrong last time, and they're wrong this time."

It's not just the province's federal voting record that poses a challenge to the governing party. The newly elected United Conservatives under Premier Jason Kenney came to power on an anti-Trudeau message — vowing to stand up to Ottawa.

There's also a growing sense of alienation in the province.

"Recent polling indicates that as many as 50 per cent of Albertans indicate that they support the concept of


secession from the Canadian federation," Kenney said during a visit to Ottawa in May.

Despite barbs from Kenney, the relationship between the premier and Trudeau has been without drama — so far.

Troubles with Trans Mountain

Trudeau was also in Edmonton Friday at a news conference held at the terminal for the Trans Mountain pipeline. His message was a reiteration of his government's year-long pitch to the struggling oil sector: Ottawa realizes this project is in the national interest and the environment and economy can work together.

But in Calgary, he turned the blame for the problems in the oilpatch on former prime minister Stephen Harper — saying he failed to diversify Canada's oil and gas exports, and helped incite anger toward the sector by ignoring the concerns of climate scientists andIndigenous communities. While Harper was in office, pipelines were built from Alberta to Illinois and Wisconsin.

Trudeau said that the Conservatives don't understand the realities of resource development in the 21st century, and that environmental impacts, partnerships and long-term benefits all have to be taken into account for any new energy projects.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau speaks with workers at the Trans Mountain Terminal in Edmonton on Friday, July 12, 2019. (Terry Reith/CBC)

The prime minister said, unlike in John A. Macdonald's experience with building a railway, you can't just shove infrastructure through.

Conservative Party Leader Andrew Scheer said in a statement that Albertans won't forget the Trudeau government's record on oil and gas.

"Justin Trudeau has failed Albertans," it reads.

"One day he's campaigning alongside an anti-pipelines star candidate in Montreal and the


next day he's pretending to care about oil and gas jobs in Alberta. It's phoney and hypocritical."

The anti-pipeline candidate

The Liberals just announced famous environmental activist Steven Guilbeault as their candidate in Laurier-Sainte-Marie.

In Edmonton this week, Trudeau went on the defensive for Guilbeault, saying he will not dictate the environmental policies of the Liberals and his opposition to Trans Mountain won't deter the government from proceeding with the twinning project.

But without shovels in the ground on the project, environmental and resource issues will continue to dog Trudeau in the province up to election day.

Federal-provincial relations

The prime minister was also top of mind as the country's premiers met for their last annual gathering before the fall vote.

Many of them are engaged in court challenges with Ottawa over the federal carbonwith others, and for price discrimination among distributors. Oreman's complaint *1176 lacks certain necessary factual allegations on the one hand and relies on certain erroneous legal conclusions on the other. Together, these defects prove fatal to the viability of Oreman's complaint.

I. Background and allegations

Oreman is a local wholesale distributor of electronic equipment, including computer printers. Panasonic is the manufacturer (or U.S. affiliate distributor of a foreign manufacturer) of electronic equipment, including computer printers. Complete diversity exists between the two parties.
Oreman alleges that beginning in 1985, it and Panasonic made a series of agreements whereby Oreman would act as a distributor for certain Panasonic products. The last of the series was entered effective May 31, 1989; a copy of this written agreement is attached to Panasonic's motion to dismiss.


approached two of Oreman's customers in the Dallas, Texas area. Oreman specifically alleges that its customers, Soft Warehouse and Seabrook were approached by representatives of Panasonic prior to and after Oreman's termination with a request that they purchase their Panasonic computer products directly from Panasonic. In making these overtures, Panasonic used the good will and confidential sales information developed by Oreman in its relationship with these two customers. Oreman further alleges that even prior to Oreman's termination as a regional distributor that Panasonic employees encouraged Soft Warehouse and Seabrook to purchase their goods from a different Panasonic distributor who directly competed with Oreman, Hallmark Electronics Corporation. As a result of Panasonic's attempts to have these customers purchase goods from a different distributor, Oreman claims that it has lostrevenue in forms of sales that were made to these customers by Hallmark rather than by Oreman.
Oreman further alleges tortious conduct on the part of Panasonic deliberately establishing and continuing its distributor relationship with Oreman Sales with the intent of later terminating Oreman and doing business directly with Oreman's customers after Oreman had developed and nurtured a market for Panasonic's products. Upon information and belief, Panasonic executives at some point in 1988 made a decision to eliminate or substantially curtail the national distribution network of Office Automation Group products with the intention of selling directly to the customers of the distributors. A meeting was held at some point in 1988 at the La Costa Country Club in California for the specific purpose of implementing that plan. At that


Russian President Vladimir Putin, right, speaks as Italian Prime Minister Matteo Renzi gestures, during their news conference after the talks in the Kremlin in Moscow, Russia, Thursday, March 5, 2015. AP Something may be afoot in Moscow.

Russian President Vladimir Putin, known for his frequent and carefully calibrated media appearances, has not been definitively spotted in public since his March 5 meeting with the Italian prime minister.

This absence, the longest in years, comes amid rumors that the political elite in Moscow is fracturing after the assassination of prominent opposition figure Boris Nemtsov within sight of the Kremlin's walls.

Suspicions have been running high since Putin canceled a trip to Astana, Kazakhstan that was scheduled for this week, Reuters reports. A Kazakh source told Reuters that Putin had canceled the tripafter becoming ill.

Any claims of illness were quickly denied by Putin spokesman Dmitry Peskov, who told Reuters that Putin "has meetings all the time. He has meetings today, tomorrow. I don't know which ones we will make public."

But no images of Putin since the March 5 meeting with the Italian prime minister have been published. And images of Putin attending an International Woman's Day event on March 8 were later proved to have been taken on March 5.

And video featuring Putin meeting with Russian supreme court chairman Vyacheslav Lebedev on March 13 wasn't live.

Putin meeting with Russian supreme court chairman Vyacheslav Lebedev. Kremlin

This unusually long disappearance could indicate that something is going down within the walls of the Kremlin. But what?

Putin's absence might have no larger significance, and


All the Philippine UN peacekeepers trapped by Islamist militants on the Syrian side of the Golan Heights have been moved to a secure place, the United Nations and the Philippines said.

The United Nations said the 40 peacekeepers left during a ceasefire agreed with "armed elements" in the area shortly after midnight local time and were moved to a safe place.

In Manila, General Gregorio Catapang, the Philippines' armed forces chief, told a news conference that Israel and Syria helped in what was the "greatest escape" of Filipino troops after engaging about 100 Islamist militants surrounding them in a seven-hour firefight.

The troops escaped in the middle of the night while the rebels were sleeping, he said.

"This attack prompted UNDOF to reposition our troops to a more secure position within themission area," Catapang said, referring to the UN peacekeeping force that has monitored the disengagement zone between Israel and Syria since 1974, following the 1973 Arab-Israeli war.

"Currently, Filipino peacekeepers from both position 68 and 69 have been successfully repositioned to Camp Ziuoani."

No peacekeepers wounded

On Saturday, 32 peacekeepers were rescued from Islamists who fired at their post and trapped them for two days, the United Nations said.

Catapang said Irish UNDOF troops helped in the rescue. It was not known if any rebels were killed or wounded in the operation.

A member of the UN Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) keeps watch of the Syrian side of the Quneitra crossing from an observation post in the Golan Heights. (Ronen Zvulun/Reuters) Late on Saturday, UN diplomatic sources said militants had reinforced their siege


of the 40 peacekeepers trapped at position 68.

Colonel Roberto Ancan, head of the Philippine military's peacekeeping operations centre, said Syrian government forces fired artillery at the rebels, weakening their positions surrounding the peacekeepers. None of the peacekeepers were wounded, he said.

The UN press office said in a statement that "shortly after midnight local time on 31 August, during a ceasefire agreed with the armed elements, all the 40 Filipino peacekeepers from UN position 68 left the position. The 40 peacekeepers arrived in a safe location one hour later."

Another UN statement issued in New York on Saturday said UNDOF had evacuated two observation posts after one of them came under fire and moved 11 staff to a safe location.

Earlier on Saturday, a Reuters cameraman spotted 11 UN armoured vehiclesreturning to their base in Israeli-controlled territory about 12 hours after the peacekeepers came under fire at around 6 a.m.

"All 32 Filipino personnel from this position have been extricated and are now safe," the UN press office said in a statement issued in New York. "The UN peacekeepers returned fire and prevented the attackers from entering the position."

Separately, 44 UNDOF peacekeepers from Fiji were detained by militants eight kilometres away from the Philippine troops on Thursday and remain missing.

A senior UN official told Reuters that it appears at least one rebel was killed in fighting during the course of Thursday and Friday, though the details and exact timing remained unclear.

Fijians in good health, rebels say

A commander with the Islamist Nusra Front, a group linked to al-Qaeda, told Reuters


the Fijian peacekeepers had been detained because UNDOF was aiding the government of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and had ignored the suffering of the Syrian people.

UNDOF has been deployed "since 1974 to ensure the safety and protection of the borders with (Israel), the usurper of the lands of the Muslims, at the same time it completely ignored the daily shedding of the Muslims' blood on the other side of the border," part of a Nusra Twitter message said.

It added that the men were being treated well and were in good health.

A UN official said a number of UNDOF contingents participated in the rescue on Saturday, assisted by Israeli and Syrian forces.

UNDOF has 1,223 peacekeepers in the zone from six countries: Fiji, India, Ireland, Nepal, the Netherlands and thePhilippines.

The United Nations said this week the Philippines had decided to pull out of UNDOF and from a UN force in Liberia, which is struggling with an outbreak of the deadly Ebola virus.

Blue-helmeted UN troops were seized on the Golan Heights by militants in March and May 2013. In both cases they were released safely.

Austria, Japan and Croatia have all pulled their troops out of UNDOF due to the deteriorating security situation and spillover from the Syrian war.

The Golan Heights is a strategic plateau captured by Israel in the 1967 Arab-Israeli war, and Syria and Israel technically remain at war. UNDOF monitors the area of separation, a narrow strip of land running about 70 kilometres from Mount Hermon on the Lebanese border to the Yarmouk River frontier with


Found in the Fields

In 2014, Kathryn created a series of artworks inspired by poet John Clare and the plants and lichens that now grow in places that he loved. Initially shown as interventions in the John Clare Cottage Museum, the artworks culminated in the planting of over 100 porcelain plants in Clare’s garden.

Clare had a deep affinity with his local countryside and even said that he found his poems in the fields. Though he died over 150 years ago, through his poetry he is renowned for his ability to notice even the small things in his environment - from the golden beads of primrose buds to the soft fur on the underside of a leaf. He enjoyed collecting things that he found while out walking, and hunting forunusual plants in the woods and fields near his home. Sometimes he would bring these plants home, to plant in his garden.

Kathryn’s work reflects these aspects of Clare’s character, and their shared love of the small details in nature. She selected three places that Clare loved, and over the course of three months visited each one twice a week, getting to know the locations and their botany. Through intricate porcelain sculptures, photography and collections of found objects, “Found in the Fields” tells of the character of those three places and their delicate woodland flowers, branches covered in lichen and bold architectural plants.

The full album of photographs, that track the changing season from spring to early summer, can be found here.

"Found in the Fields" was created for "UnEarthed: John


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 personis reported to be conscious , breathing, complaining of back pain but not in any danger.

The Irving tanker East Coast anchored over the noon hour. The former Nor’easter, she was required to be renamed when moved to the Canadian Registry Late last year. Prior to that she was a frequent applicant for Coasting trade licenses.

She arrived from Saint John, and appears loaded, so will likely off load to Irving’s tank farm via Imperial Oil Dock.

The unladen tanker Aias stopped for bunkers on her outbound trip form the Canaport facility in Saint John NB. Despite being home to Canada’s largest refinery, the Port of Saint John does not offer bunkering services.

After topping up her tanks, She sailed out around noon bound for Whiffen Head NF.


sense of purpose for society. In turn, our society responds to this elitism by undervaluing learning and the intellectual enterprise.

There have been many examples of countries which have successfully addressed the twin-challenges of developing communities of intellectual leaders in science and technology and are yet deeply rooted in using their native language for churning ideas. In Germany, science students would have had their principal language as German and yet be fluent in English. Many of the best German labs are international and the language of discourse may well be in English, yet, the advantage that comes from the ability that German scientists have to think in their native language, in the most advanced scientific subjects, is not small. Conversely, no country, including India, that has chosen English asconflate the use of English as the vehicle for communication and commerce with the use of language as the basis for the power of ideas.

K VijayRaghavan is secretary, department of biotechnology, ministry of science and technology, and former director of The National Centre for Biological Sciences

The views expressed are personal


which York was a frequent customer. The Complaint suggests, without supplying any details, that "Plaintiff had also complained to Defendant Brownmiller, as Defendant York's superior officer, about Defendant York's actions in the past." Id. ¶ 17.
As York reached Plaintiffs vehicle, Plaintiff asked "What did I do?" Id. ¶ 18. York told Plaintiff she was speeding and driving recklessly, and that she failed to make a proper stop at a stop sign. See id. *404 ¶ 9. At first, because she was nervous, Plaintiff could not locate her license and registration. After York returned to his vehicle, Plaintiff found the documents. When Plaintiff exited her car to take the documents to York, he became angry and began screaming at Plaintiff to get back into her car. See id. ¶the roof line of the rear door. See id. ¶ 28. York's violent pushing also caused Plaintiff to fall sideways onto the vehicle's floor. See id. ¶ 29. York continued to ignore Plaintiffs complaints of pain.
Defendant York called for a tow truck to remove Plaintiff's vehicle. After it was towed, York drove Plaintiff to the Northampton Police Station. At the station, York released the handcuffs from Plaintiffs wrists, but then immediately restrained her again by handcuffing her to a metal pipe. See id. ¶ 37. York told Plaintiff she would be going to prison that night. Another officer was present at this time, but did not intervene or assist Plaintiff. See id. ¶ 41. Eventually, York told Plaintiff he had changed his mind and would not charge her


Defendant Borough,
knew or should have known, of actions and conduct on the part of Defendant York, similar to the scenario and procedure which was utilized in connection with his interaction with Plaintiff, which pre-dated November 26, 2000, and which indicated that Defendant York was likely to arrest, "manhandle," and detain persons such as Plaintiff without proper or legal cause, justification, or excuse.
Id. ¶ 51. Finally, Plaintiff alleges that, prior to November 2000, York was sued for civil rights violations stemming from his interaction with a person named Shane Zimmerman. Plaintiff further alleges that Brownmiller and the Borough, having knowledge of York's prior misconduct, "condoned and encouraged the Defendant York in his actions in regard to the Plaintiff," by failing to adequately train, monitor, discipline, discharge or supervise York.Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Cooking Squirrel

During my formative years, I was fortunate enough to be well acquainted with a middle-aged couple who, although I never heard them refer to themselves as such, were the epitome of the term "homesteaders". I think I have written about them before.

Although they had a variety of domestic livestock which they raised for food as well as income, they also supplemented their diet with wild game on a regular basis. I shared many, many meals with them, so I grew up eating such things as rabbit and squirrel. It is the latter that I am writing about today.

Albert had, so far as I know, only two guns. One was a Marlin Glenfield Model 60, .22 semi-automatic rifle. The other was a Stevens 20 gauge


signing up for the Intro to Downhill Bike Clinic.

11. Gather the family together for an evening on Snowmass at Farm to Table dinners on Tuesdays or free concert series on Thursdays.

12. Explore the backcountry on a jeep tour, driving over rugged roads with views of soaring 14,000 foot peaks.

13. Ride the Silver Queen Gondola on Aspen Mountain for Classical Saturdays and Bluegrass Sundays ― free outdoor concerts held every weekend. Or, get a workout in and hike up for the music and enjoy a free ride down!

14. Visit the Maroon Bells - the most photographed mountains in the U.S. A bus to the Maroon Bells is mandatory during the summer. Purchase a bus ticket at the new Maroon Bells Basecamp or take advantage of the Sightseeing Package, whichclosed all the doors to the other rooms, since the lab was still young and interested in chewing on the kids’ toys. So they just followed me around as I put things away and tidied up.

That border collie was sweet as anything. She was clearly the older one and just so gentle and beautiful. Too bad whenever she sidled up for some scratching, the lab would jump all over her and shove her away. He was such a pup – all wiggly and pushy and eager. I hope their owner gets reunited with them quickly, and buys them some tags!

Last week, the subject of birthdays had come up, and Tom asked Hot Wheels who he might like to invite to his birthday party this year. After listing a


Summary

Al Unser, Jr., followed his father, Al, and uncle, Bobby, to Victory Lane at the Indianapolis 500 with wins in 1992 and 1994. Unser also competed in the 1993 Daytona 500. In 2009, staff from The Henry Ford interviewed Al Unser, Jr., at the Unser Racing Museum in Albuquerque, New Mexico, as part of the Collecting Innovation Today Oral History Project.

Al Unser, Jr., followed his father, Al, and uncle, Bobby, to Victory Lane at the Indianapolis 500 with wins in 1992 and 1994. Unser also competed in the 1993 Daytona 500. In 2009, staff from The Henry Ford interviewed Al Unser, Jr., at the Unser Racing Museum in Albuquerque, New Mexico, as part of the Collecting Innovation Today Oral History Project.Officials say a newborn delivered after his mother crashed her SUV and died while on her way to a hospital to give birth to him has also died.

Twenty-seven-year-old Desiree Strout was driving from Canaan to nearby Skowhegan to have labor induced when her vehicle hit black ice, struck a snowbank and rolled over onto a frozen pond Monday.

Officials say Gage Arthur Weeks was in critical condition after being delivered by an emergency cesarean section.

Skowehegan Police Chief David Bucknam said he learned Thursday of the baby's death.

Strout's husband, Harry Weeks, and 8-year-old daughter were hospitalized after the crash. Authorities say Weeks suffered serious injuries, but he's expected to survive.


list of series regulars who have appeared in one or more of the series's six seasons. The characters are listed in the order they were first credited in the series.

Cast notes

Ragnar Lothbrok
 Played by Travis Fimmel (seasons 1–4)
Originally a farmer, Viking Ragnar Lothbrok claims to be descended from the god Odin.  He becomes Earl of Kattegat after he challenges and kills the ruthless Earl Haraldson.  He is also a feared warrior, becomes a raider of undiscovered lands, and, eventually, King of Denmark. Despite his reputation for ruthlessness and brutality, he is a curious man prepared to learn about other cultures.  Based on the semi-legendary Ragnar Lodbrok.

Lagertha
 Played by Katheryn Winnick (seasons 1–6) and Mabel Hurley (season 5)
Lagertha is Ragnar's first wife and a shieldmaiden. Following1960, mortgage was not satisfied until three months after the giving of the new note and mortgage, and the printed form of satisfaction recited that the October 3, 1960, mortgage "is fully paid, satisfied and discharged."
In Kellogg Brothers Lumber Co. v. Mularkey[1] this court was faced with a fact situation not essentially different from what is before us in the instant case. There a mechanic's lien claimant stood in the same position as appellant bank does here. The original mortgage which had priority over the mechanic's lien was satisfied five days after the giving of the new mortgage in renewal of the original mortgage. The mechanic's lien claimant, as does appellant here, contended that the satisfaction of the original mortgage was conclusive with respect to its discharge as


properly care for Dudley while he was a patient at St. Joseph's Hospital resulted in the injuries and subsequent complications that led to his death on May 28, 2007.
¶ 4 In the early morning hours of May 16, Dudley sustained a fractured hip after falling in his hospital room. Later that morning, his hospital roommate told Mary that Dudley had fallen twice in the night and that, each time, the roommate had notified Dudley's nurse. Although Mary thus spoke directly with the roommate on May 16, she did not obtain the man's name or any contact information.
¶ 5 Mary asserts the hospital records produced in discovery did not mention the first fall or either of the roommate's reports to Dudley's nurse. Mary thus submitted a written interrogatory askingmouth twisted. His eyes burned. With a cry of demented rage, he slammed his fist into Ty's mouth, splitting his lip.

Ty's head snapped back. His grip on the belt loosened, and his father snatched it out of his hands. Ty cringed, waiting for the next barrage. Instead his father stormed out of the room, locking the door behind him.

Thank God! He must have realized he was out of control.

Ty heard his mother's voice, high-pitched—almost hysterical—asking questions. He didn't hear his father's reply.

As soon as he started to calm down, he was flooded with sensation: his face throbbed, his head pounded, and his stomach churned.

_Why is he so controlling? Why can't I keep my hair three inches long? Why the hell does he care?_ It had been such a


unless they were standing on the landing just outside his room.

His father hadn't always been cruel, but in the last several years he'd become increasingly sadistic. His father had installed the bolt on his bedroom door when he was fourteen. It was not uncommon for him to be locked in his room for the weekend, with his distraught mother bringing him food and water.

Each beating seemed worse than the one before. Usually his father was careful not to leave evidence. His mother and sister had no idea of the extent of his father's malice. This time he'd gone too far.

Ty shifted slightly to get his face out the damp spot on his slimy comforter. Agony screamed through him when he moved, and he gasped in pain. Even whenanyone suspicious. It was one of his warmest sweaters, and he wanted to take something with him that reminded him that he had once been loved. He grabbed his clothes and headed for the shower.

A half-hour later he was standing at the kitchen counter, wolfing down a very large bowl of cereal. Jeanie waltzed into the room, her long, sleek, auburn hair flying behind her. She stopped short when she saw him and stared at his face. Ty watched her striking eyes darken in sympathy. Bitterness welled up in his chest. He focused on his cereal.

She approached him tentatively. "Are you okay, Ty?"

Fuck no!

"Yeah."

"Why are you eating standing at the counter? Oh!"

He knew she realized the answer to her own question as soon as it was out of


"Yes, you'd better button up. Last I saw it was sleeting like crazy out there. Nutty weather for this time of year."

He pulled his wool cap out of his pocket and covered his short nap with it, pulling it down over his ears. "Yeah. I hate the cold—I ain't built for this northern climate." He let his southern drawl really come out on this statement.

Teresa chuckled. "You take care, Abe. I'll see you at six."

"You're not going home, Teresa?"

"No, I'll stay, at least until morning rounds are over. Someone's got to cover."

"Well, don't overdo. You don't want to catch that nasty flu. That'd be a disaster. This place can't function without you."

She waved him off with a smile as her focus shifted back to the screen in frontof her.

Once outside Abe turned his collar up and jammed his hands deep into his pockets, longing for his gloves. The wind howled around him and stinging ice pelted his face. Glancing up, he could see the sleet in the light of a street lamp, coming down hard—or, more accurately, blowing sideways hard.

He shivered and wished he were wearing more than just scrubs under his jacket. At least he'd had the foresight to wear his winter coat. He hurried through the dark streets, head down, focused on getting home as fast as possible. Every inch of his body that was not covered by wool was soaked in icy sleet.

It felt too cold for sleet, and he noticed the puddles on the street were starting to ice over. _It