Roy dropped me off then left immediately. The last glimpse I had showed his grumpy face and a phone to his ear. I should have napped in the car on the way home but my mind was spinning in circles.

Once upstairs rapid packing ensued. Everything that mattered fit into a single bag. I nodded off for a few hours then woke to an alarm. The actual departure from my temporary home happened well before sunrise.

Rachel was dead asleep. On her kitchen table remained rent money for the next few weeks, an empty platter for food that had all been packed into a duffle. Hopefully, that old woman would be okay come morning. She had been kind to me, kinder than most, and her cooking was delicious.

Henderson's was quiet this early. I waited at the door for the man himself to show up. With maybe thirty minutes to dawn, he arrived. He didn't even question my tone when I told him of my resignation. Henderson didn't look upset when I asked for a ride out of town with the next delivery truck. The man nodded, went inside and gave me the cash with a tired smile. I wasn't the first drifter he picked up and probably wouldn’t be the last.

Hyatt started kicking into high gear before my arrival. The silent driver who I still didn't really know let me out of the cab with a polite nod. I tried to give a friendly smile back but wasn't feeling it. Goodbyes were awkward things designed to wish someone well upon parting. They rarely conveyed any true depth.

I shook off the worry then walked toward the nearest bus stop. From there I could get to a transfer station, then I could find a greyhound or something similar. Spending my money on a taxi was a poor use of my pocket change. Stretched, this money would last me months.

An hour later and I was at the useless transfer center. They only had route maps which wouldn’t assist in escaping the country. I hadn't decided if my next destination was north or south anyway. West was a coastline. East was too close to issues that needed to be avoided. North would be cold in a few months. South sounded better overall. Maybe I could make it out of the country to the Central Americas. Last I checked the only hurdles were for getting into Western Sector, not leaving it. Leaving a place only required legs and the determination to venture into the unfamiliar.

South it was.

I spent the next few hours alternating between Rachel's home cooking and trying to find a place to catch a bus that went further than the other side of town. By the time I found an archaic train station they stopped running for the afternoon.

Train stations were annoying. All the major routes had left before eleven in the morning. Hell. The place wasn't large enough to warrant more action and maybe employed ten people on a busy day. Enough to clean the bathrooms that homeless people left a mess in.

Never mind that I was recently one myself.

A security guard waved me off from sleeping on the benches. I tried to ask him for a cheap location to spend the night and he pointed me to the local shelter. Apparently Hyatt had two which weren’t exactly my preference. Other homeless people tended to be aggressive, even to me.

I wandered around, trying to find a quiet spot to get some shut eye. A wall to rest against would be more than enough. Preferably one near a heating vent. Failing that the thick hoodie and double layered socks would keep me warm. At one point I owned thermal underwear but they vanished before I got to Tennison.

Sleep is a weakness when transient. A veteran of the homeless lifestyle slept in spurts. Hours in one place, another hour somewhere else. Drifting in and out was normal. Home sounded heavenly compared to this hellish future. I shook my head and desperately tried not to imagine how great it would be to crawl back to my long forgotten apartment.

Wandering was easier than expected. I initially kept near the train station, but far enough away that police wouldn't hassle me. This situation had to be toughed through, caving to weakness and getting a hotel room would just make it harder when the money ran out.

Hours passed in darkness and cold. The only sources of heat were from vents at the bottom of buildings, or briefly ducking into a twenty-four-hour minimart. I bought a stick of beef to justify the minutes of warmth.

Possible destinations flickered through my brain. Complete reasoning was hampered by growing exhaustion. Getting on the train would give me hours of warm sleep alone with vague security while headed away from people who might be hurt because of my presence. I could go around my old home and way further east. Some of the larger parks back east had camp training courses. With this money there might be enough to get there and sign up. Then I could vanish into the wild and wouldn't have to stick to cities.

The thought of escaping from people, in general, made me happy. That last fight night with Roy had reminded me how normal people reacted to my presence. Worry, tremors of fear, apprehension when I locked gazes.

Shortly before dawn the next day I roused myself out of a stupor. Wandering at night brought no healthy thoughts to my consciousness. Traveling back to the terminal would kill another hour then I could finally grab a ride far from here.

Exhaustion tainted every ounce of my body. Unusual places were sore and one eye barely opened from the fight last night. Putting this journey off might have been more healthy. Rushing into fleeing made me feel weak and stupid. I wallowed in self-pity which caused one failure to compound onto a lifetime of them. Two men who were desperate, scraggly, and wild-eyed stood in my path.

Hell. Normally I avoided sketchy streets but my attention hadn't been focused on the surroundings. Alleyways should be detoured around if there wasn’t bright daylight or a lot of people. Especially when wandering through a broken portion of the city like this one.

I looked around, trying to figure out what the easiest way to avoid this nonsense would be. Trash was lined up against the sides making the alley even narrower. Turning around revealed a third man, this one was armed.

The two in front drew closer. Both gave off the same vibe. They were wary, nervous and twitched every few steps. Their look went hand in hand with drug abuse. I eyed them and waited for their inevitable demand.

"Give us your shit,” one in front said.

"I’ve got nothing but clothes,” I responded.

"Yeah right." They were sort of smart about it. The two with knives went for my bag. The one with the gun kept it trained on me. Too bad they were stupid for other reasons.

"It's all I've got." I sidestepped slowly, trying to screw up their line of sight.

"Shut up and hand it over!" The twitchier one on the left got closer then snatched away the duffle I had been carrying around. His grabby hands pissed me off a lot. They were taking what was mine.

Mine.

The three started to disperse by backing up while watching me. In their minds this was a simple robbery, not an assault. Too bad that they picked a man like me. I only had one real skill from everything I experienced with Roy, beating people up.

Truly stupid people aren't intimidated by size, it's a challenge in their mind. They only see muscle and assume I'm mentally defective to balance it out. They don't realize that even those with intelligence disorders are possessive. More so than normal people sometimes. They just act out in ways that are often associated with five-year-olds throwing a temper tantrum.

It was that same rage and focus that filled my body. These fools were taking the one bag I owned, the items I used for survival while traveling around. The only blocker was flipping a mental switch.

Mine. That bag belonged to me. It was all I had left, all that was safe and near. The perception came easier than anything else had. Easier than trying to claim a place, easier than trying to see those ghostly images. My senses expanded in an instant and the world around me came alive.

Endless layers of clothing. Fabric brushes against dirt laden skin. Pink Meats' shoes are wet, filled with moisture from puddles. Weakling behind me, gun too light. Feel empty chamber. Spring bearly coiled inside. Annoyed. Thinks me a fool. No danger.

They robbed me with an empty gun. These idiots probably didn't have money to afford real bullets. The world tilted sideways as my body pushed past bruised muscles and ignored tenderness in my limbs. I couldn't just let my stuff go. It wasn't even about money, that was in my pockets.

I tackled the one behind me first. He clicked the empty gun repeatedly, trying to scare me away with a useless weapon. I drug him to the ground and planted my shoe into his head then tore the weapon out of his grasp. The other two were running already. Their feet echoed down the short alley to both my sense of hearing and tactile feedback.

Heft weapon. Feel smoothness. Slight grit, not cared for. Balance poor. Close eyes, breathe, raise hand with gun back, and let item fly. Hits weakling in the side. He crumples. Shame. Aimed for head. Missed. Need practice.

"Jesus Fucking Christ, man!" a fourth voice shouted out.

Stolen novel; please report.

I ran for the fallen duffle bag and got ready to hightail it out of this alley. Being picked up by the police would hinder my escape plans.

"Whoa, Whoa! Jay!" the voice shouted after me.

My prompt escape put me halfway around the corner before his words clicked in my head. I turned to look down at the end of the building and figure out who called my real name.

"Zach?" I asked.

He was running up to me, completely ignoring the two people down on the ground and moaning. He was completely unfazed by them. My third robber was long gone by now.

"Seriously, man?” Zach asked. “Running away? After all the trouble I went through to get this set up for you?"

"What?" I started backing up slowly. Sleep deprivation couldn't completely be canceled out by the adrenaline of almost being robbed. Everything hurt while throbbing plagued my temple. Something about the way Zach talked was giving me a pounding headache. I backed into a wall and startled myself while attempting to get my head on straight.

The world about me was still giving excessive feedback. Walls felt heavy and bore their weight upon the ground below. Like something sitting on my chest. Litter, cars, everything felt light compared to the pressure of buildings.

I shook my head and tried to disengage the extra perceptions. Tried to pull everything back into myself. Arms, limbs, threads of sanity pulled together gradually. Zach stood there, asking if I was okay. Not touching me.

"James? You alright, man?"

I started to realize things. The scent of burning plastic and straw filled the air. Zach's tone, patterns, pitch, all shifted toward surfer. He had called me Jay. No one around here knew me by that name.

I shook my head and asked, "Do I know you?"

"Sure, I’m your bartender, Zach? We've met a few times."

The glare I gave him must have shown how serious this was. Zach's feigned friendly face fell away with a sigh. He straightened, stared at me, and seemed to be evaluating something in his mind.

"Fine." He reached out for me. The motion sent tremors of fright up and down my spine then rattled both knees. There was nowhere to pull away though without dodging by the man. "Jay, relax, and try to remember," Zach paused then sighed again as if readying himself for something unpleasant, "don't shoot the messenger."

Quicker than I expected, he wound his fingers around an object that I couldn’t see on my wrist. Whatever it was broke with hardly any resistance. He held it up and studied the remains of a hand weaved bracelet that looked half blackened from fire.

"Jesus, this thing is barely holding together," Zach mused.

I stared at his face and watched as certain features became more recognizable. Not something that I could directly peg, just familiar bits and pieces. The tilt of his chin and sharpened eyes. A laid back glance that could turn angry at the drop of a hat. His hair was different, dyed to a darker color. Freckles were buried under a slightly smudged masking of makeup. There was enough to diffuse his distinctive features.

My head was flooding with bits and pieces of past memories. The sensation didn’t feel uncomfortable but did make my head swim. Like waking up from a long slumber and not knowing what day of the week it was.

It occurred to me that this had happened before. Last time it was pictured as a house filled with rooms. Instead of lights shutting off, they were now coming back to life. Pictures that had been flat and lifeless took on a healthy dimension. People, places, and things took on a fresh life. Each one a moment from the past being sorted into their proper places. Faces stood out easier than the rest.

Roy's face was familiar from a place called Bottom Pit. His father and sons were there too. Steven, and those cheerleader cutouts, all of them I knew from the same location. Cliff Richards, the black teenager at the afternoon meetings. His mother. Then one more face swam into view and every other surfacing memory ceased to matter.

Kahina's athletic and narrow features stood out in my mind. That was the woman's name. I had been trying to remember her for a month now. She was the one I called in the early morning hours. It was the darkness of her strange NightShades that gave me terrors. I hadn't run from her, I had run for her. To keep her safe, and distant.

Wait, I hadn't run at all.

"Crummy," I said feeling an ember of heat forming. The motion made my lungs feel heavy and the air dry.

"Yeah, man, welcome back," the other man said. He was distracted by counting something on his fingers.

Zach, or as I knew him, Daniel Crumfield, was still studying the charred trinket when I threw my bag to the side. Anger flared. He didn’t see my punch coming.

"You!" I landed one good solid blow to his face that sent him spiraling across the alleyway.

Daniel smashed into the wall with a solid crash. No cool dents, just a very clear connection. His face took on a vacant and dazed expression. He sat there, and I briefly wondered if I killed him. My strength surprised me, clearly caught him off guard too.

"Jesus. I told you not to shoot the messenger." He huffed then stood up with a wince. With one hand he felt around for broken bones. The side of his face bled from where my knuckles had collided.

More memories sorted into place. Daniel was a Hunter, a kind of amped up human. I wanted to hit him again but there was no reason. Just the once had expressed every ounce of frustration and anger left over. After all, at this point his betrayal had happened months ago, I think. It was hard to tell under the fog of revealing histories.

"We good?" Daniel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No." I picked up my bag and started walking off.

Daniel Crumfield had returned me to myself, but that didn't mean I was going to thank him for it. It didn’t mean I wanted anything to do with whatever insane plot he had in mind this time.

"Rachel's been taken!" he yelled after me.

My stomp filled exit halted abruptly. I turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Once you were gone, they took her just like they took Tal a week ago.” Daniel paused but didn’t approach. “They drugged the hell out of that old man and he still took down two of his attackers."

"Why?" I didn’t bother asking who. There would be only one group that bothered kidnapping such specific people. Camp Grace, the place unnerved the bejesus out of me. They had to be related to the Order.

Hell. How had I been so muddled that I couldn't put that together sooner? What exactly had that been around my wrist? It had to be a trinket which messed with memories. Something that came from Muni and buried parts of my past.

Snippets of Boss Wylde's conversation came back to me. What had she said? Lie so well that those closest to you don't know. There could be no person closer to me than myself. I lied like a champion.

Someone had taken Rachel. A person who allowed me to stay with her and fed me. I left that tiny town expecting everything to be okay. When had Tal been abducted? Was it when he stopped showing up around town a while back? No wonder Roy vanished for a few days. That old man had been nothing but supportive.

Boss Wylde had also talked about threats. Warranted vengeance is swift, sure, and clearly understood. Camp Grace and the entire Order of Merlin was in serious need of some threatening.

"Because they're not human," Daniel answered my question as I tried to muddle through everything.

"They're all Hidden,” I said, putting the pieces together.

"Yeah, man. Rachel, Tal, Roy, even little Cliff."

"Were they all taken?"

"Not yet. They're moving fast, though. Tonight's meeting is an ambush, if there is one. I called them and suggested pulling the plug but Roy's stubborn. Doesn't like to back down from a challenge."

"What do I do?"

"First, I gotta know if you’re going to hit me again, man, are you?" Daniel asked.

I seriously thought about it. For a solid five breaths, I ran through my feelings, sorted what had happened and searched for the reasons behind my situation. Eventually, I decided that Daniel, in his own twisted way, had been helping me all along.

He said it once as Zach, in the bar. Daniel was involved with Camp Grace because of me. I wanted to get out of town and wanted to get Cliff and his mother to safety from that other trio. They had been secure, in a way, at least until I blew it all by chickening out.

Hell. Not to mention everyone else I left behind. Charlie, the accountant, was bound to have moved on by now. Julianne's Bar and Grill would be a difficult place to go back to after this. Even more barren of people I knew, people I was semi-comfortable with.

"Not today,” I answered Daniel’s question finally.

"I'll take that, man.” He nodded. “Anyway, I figured we just drive up to Camp Grace and get you inside."

"What? You'll have to explain." That was the damned oddest plan I had ever heard of. Yet, going through the front door sounded far more suitable than sneaking in the back. Stealth was not one of my skills and probably never would be. I walked with Daniel to the scrubbiest car he had ever driven. We got in, and he smiled.

"Good to have you back, man," he said.

"I guess." Not everything had returned to me yet. I was still trying to mesh up the last few months of memories against my prior life. Gaps were being compared against and large holes remained.

"Well, when this is over we'll go drink until one of us blacks out," Daniel said.

Now the man was truly giving me a peace offering. We shared many drinks, that I knew. Hell, it was probably why Daniel was undercover as a bartender. There could be no doubt in his mind that I would show up at a bar eventually.

Rachel's voice popped into the back of my head, reminding me of something she said. Hadn't my father taught me better?