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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lamprolign" data-source="post: 828745" data-attributes="member: 7860">Heard a Bang Bang Bang, and down you go,It's just a job I do,Cos the harder you run the harder you fall,I'm coming down hard on you, hard on you.I got a name, I got a number, I got a line on youI got a name, I got a number, I'm coming after you-Genesis, Just A Job To Do Gabe sat watching the cityscape roll past the train's windows.  He was still a little dazed.  He had arrived at the office to a demand for all of his unfinished case files.  When he had stared quizzically back at his supervisor she had explained to him that he was being suspended with pay until the Jack Casey investigation was finished.  "Well," Mary began, "you said you needed a vacation.""This isn't exactly what I had in mind," Gabe answered."It can't be all that bad.  I mean, they're still paying you.  And they didn't say you were a suspect or anything.""They don't have to.  Suspended, with or without pay still means pretty much the same thing," Gabe said.  "It's not like any of this is easy to explain.  Hell, I don't understand it myself."  He let out a long sigh.Gabe looked around inside the train car.  Several people were staring at him, and there was a barren expanse of vacant seats around him in the otherwise crowded train.  "Well, this is just great," Gabe muttered.  "There's always some crazy guy talking to himself on the train.  Now I'm that guy!""Not my fault, you can always just think your answers."Gabe noticed a boy of about fourteen staring at him intently.  The youth had long bleached hair that was pulled out in myriad spikes.  His face was covered in piercings.  A chain ran from a ring in his ear to a similar one in his nose.  "Yes!  There are voices in my head!  They talk to me!" Gabe yelled.The boy looked away quickly.  Wonderful, even the freaks think I'm a freak.    *     *     *     *It was unseasonably warm for the latter half of January.  Gabe walked with his over coat unbuttoned and was still comfortably warm.  It was a long walk from the nearest train station to the New Haven Coalition for the Homeless.  Mary badgered him until he agreed to go there that afternoon. It's not like I have anything better to do, he thought.  The building looked different in the afternoon sun.  One could mistakenly believe that it was still a church.  It was the first time that Gabe entered through the front doors.  He walked through an enclosed vestibule, the narthex of the old church, before entering the cavernous main room.  Here where once the faithful gathered for prayer, the hungry now gathered for food.  The pews that once faced the altar were now turned to run parallel with long tables that filled the room.  Suppertime was near.  The smells were enough to make Gabe salivate.  Somehow he never expected appetizing meals to be served in a shelter, but then he never expected to find witches or vampires in one either.Gabe made his way between the tables and on toward the opposite end of the room.  He paused where a narrower room bisected the main hall.  The altar still stood at the far eastern end of the room.  Above it on the wall hung a simple unadorned cross.  Into the southern end of the bisecting room Gabe walked.  In the center of the eastern wall of this room was a door which opened onto a flight of stairs leading down.  He had never come this way before, yet somehow he new exactly where he was going.  Odd, Gabe thought."We are sharing dreams you know," Mary said.  "You've picked up several of my memories.  Of course, I've seen a lot more of yours.  More than I ever wanted to, believe me."  Gabe shook his head wearily and navigated his way unerringly to the Sister's study.  He was in the process of raising his hand to knock on the door when it opened.  The Sister sat in her usual chair near the hearth.  She looked up from the heavy tome that sat upon her lap to give Gabe a welcoming smile."Do come in Gabriel, Mary," she spoke."Hello!"  Mary's perky greeting rubbed Gabe's already raw nerves."Hi," Gabe said without enthusiasm.  "Have a seat, Gabriel.""Thanks."  Gabe sat in the chair nearest to the window.  He glanced through the window at the walled graveyard behind the church.  "Wonderful view," he commented before turning back to face the Sister."Actually it is," the Sister responded.  "When spring comes it will be alive with color.""Do you remember Jenny Matthews?" Mary asked."Yes."  The Sister's smile was replaced by an unreadable expression."She was killed last night."The Sister closed her eyes and a heavy sigh escaped her lips.  "How?""She was murdered," Gabe said.  "It was a pretty ugly scene.""It looked like she was ripped apart."  I wasn't going to go into details Mary, Gabe admonished silently."This is disturbing news," said the Sister.  She rose and replaced the tome that she had been reading in a vacant spot on the shelves lining the room's walls."You originally thought she might have powers, didn't you?" asked Mary. "Yes," she answered, "though none ever expressed themselves."  The Sister stood gazing through the window.  The snow had begun melting in the afternoon sun, exposing patches of brown grass and granite grave markers.  Unheard by those inside a wind stirred the leafless branches that in summer would form a dense canopy."Um..." Mary began, "where is Poe?""I had hoped you would know.  She did not return before dawn."*     *    *    *Asher Russell stepped out into a brisk south wind on West Chicago Avenue.  He zipped up the weathered bomber jacket that along with a plain button-up shirt, moderately faded jeans and hiking boots was his usual attire.  Brilliant blue eyes peered from beneath a mop of unruly blond hair.  Barely visible freckles flanked a smallish nose.  Most would consider him attractive, though not exceptional.  Asher walked briskly.  The weather report called for mixed sleet and snow that evening, and although he considered himself quite the adventurer he still didn't fancy getting drenched and frozen before bedtime.  He adjusted his satchel strap across his shoulder.  Several unfinished articles resided on the hard drive of the laptop computer that was contained therein.  His editor would skin him alive if he was late submitting again.  Practically owning the crime page byline had its disadvantages...It was the same routine every night, walk to the Chicago Avenue stop of the Blue Line, ride downtown to the loop and catch the Brown Line north to his flat in an old brick warehouse.  The neighborhood was rough enough to give the last bit of the trip home a little edge, but it wasn't really dangerous.  Just the way Asher liked things, some excitement with an escape route built in.  Asher was jolted from his mental meanderings when someone bumped into him hard enough to make him stumble."Excuse me," said a man with an accent that Asher couldn't place immediately.The man walked on before Asher could respond.  He shrugged his shoulders and hurried off.  If he was lucky he'd make the 6:21 train and not have to wait the extra twenty minutes for the next train. Asher reached the train stop with a few minutes to spare.  He stood staring at nothing while he waited.  He had a lot to ponder, the story he was working on was the best, or maybe the worst, he had ever covered.  The details around the Abrams killings were sketchy and extremely bizarre, and the story was on the tongues of every citizen in the greater Chicago area.  The national news was rooting around, and there was already a low murmur that Hollywood was planning a suspense film based on the murders.  If I can pull this one off, it has Pulitzer written all over it.  Asher grinned to himself as  he rocked back and forth on his heels.  He didn't notice the tall rangy man concealed in shadows at the edge of the platform.  Nor did he notice that same man board the train when it stopped, or the intent stare when the man sat in the seat across the aisle.... © 2003 Austin Hale</blockquote>

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