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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} John Carter I 11-15 (mf mmf ffm ff mm sci-fi)
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I shall send the next five chapters of John Carter in
a few days. I hope you enjoy these.

Lazlo Zalazac


__________________________________
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<1st attachment, "JC11-15.txt" begin>

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

John Carter
By
Lazlo Zalezac 
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003

Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 11

John left the room feeling very good about his morning spent with 
the children. The bookcase had arrived and they had assembled it 
as a team. The kids took turns on each of the jobs; one reading the 
instructions, one bringing the parts, one helping to hold the various 
parts together, and one to provide the tools when they were 
needed. John was the only one that used the tools. The kids had a 
fun time and kept correcting him whenever he was about to make a 
mistake. He left after it was assembled to allow them a chance to 
fill it with the books. 

A well-dressed gentleman was standing outside the room wiping 
his eyes with a handkerchief. His well-tailored gray suit spoke of 
money. He was about 65 years old or so with thin gray hair. He 
was a little over weight with the build typical of men his age. John 
asked, "Sir, can I help you in some way?"

The man looked up and stated, "You must be John Carter."

"Yes, I am and you are?"

The man blew his nose and then put up his handkerchief. He was a 
little embarrassed at showing emotion in public. He answered, "I'm 
Fred Maxwell. I donated the bookshelf to the burn unit."

John reached out with his hand, "I'm very pleased to meet you. 
Your generosity means a lot to those kids."

The man's eyes misted again, "I watched you put it together. That 
was the nicest thing I have ever seen in my life. The looks of joy 
on their faces will live with me for the rest of my life."

"It sounds a little personal for you."

"You're observant," replied Fred.

"Why don't you come into my room and tell me about it? Maybe I 
can help."

Fred stood in the hall for a minute thinking about the offer. He was 
from a generation that didn't like to talk about their problems. He 
was about to refuse the offer, but changed his mind. He had lived 
with this for more than forty years. He answered, "It just might be 
time for me to talk about this."

John led him to his room. Once they entered, John closed the door. 
Fred sat down in the single chair while John sat on the bed. Fred 
rested his right ankle on his left knee and sat there playing with the 
bottom of his pants legs. He stared at his right foot as he thought 
about his past. John sat there watching Fred work through his 
internal issues. Finally, Fred broke the silence, "I served in the 
army during the Korea Conflict."

"Most Americans under appreciate the conditions that our soldiers 
experienced there. That was a tough war." John had heard many 
stories about that war from people that he had talked with in the 
past. Many Americans did not realize that the war had never 
ended. There were still causalities because of hostilities at the 
border between north and south.

 "Yes, it was," replied Fred. He continued, "I ... Well, I carried a 
flame thrower."

"That was exceptionally dangerous. One stray bullet and you'd 
have been the one on fire."

"I have not had a good night sleep since then. Every night I have 
nightmares. I see the faces of each and every man that I burned." 
Fred sat staring down at the floor lost in his thoughts. Even now, 
the faces of the men that he had burned floated before his eyes. It 
was odd, but he had no other memories of Korea. He couldn't say 
where he had been stationed or who served with him. 

John understood the inner demons that plagued Fred. Because of 
his sense of duty to country, he had committed acts that rocked the 
foundation of his moral sense. In a way, it was amazing this man 
had not reacted violently on his return to the states. John knew that 
talking would not save this man from his inner conflict. He needed 
to work as a means of atonement. He said, "Well, I can tell you a 
few things that might help you. That is, if you want to hear them."

Fred looked down at his shoe getting prepared to hear the standard 
argument. With a sigh, he answered, "Talk away. I'll do my best to 
listen."

John sat there for a minute and then stated, "Last year I died."

Fred looked up and stared at the young man. His expectations had 
been a few words that he didn't do anything wrong. He had already 
made those arguments with himself. He knew it wasn't his fault 
that he had been put in that position. It didn't help.  His fingers 
continued to fondle the hem of his pants, but his attention was 
focused on John. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. 
John nodded and then continued, "That's right, I died. I can tell you 
from personal experience, that it's not bad. In fact, it is very 
pleasant."

The evidence of shock made his voice quaver, "Could you tell me 
more about it?"

"No, I can't. Words can't convey what I felt. Can words adequately 
explain the horror you feel at what you have done? No, they can't. 
Just know that death is the opposite of that kind of horror."

This answer was not what Fred had been expecting, but he 
recognized the truth that some things couldn't be explained to 
others. He asked, "So what are you trying to say to me?"

"I'm saying that the men that you may have killed are not in pain 
any more. They are in a different place now; a place that has no 
room for pain. You don't have to accept that on faith, but as fact."

"I can understand that. They are in heaven now," commented Fred. 
Religion had become increasingly more important to him. In part, 
he had wanted to find solace in it from past. In part, he had reached 
the age where death had become more of a reality and it was 
through religion that he was attempting to come to grips with his 
mortality.

"I think if you talk to the people here, you'll find the rest of the 
answers that you are looking for. You will find out what it is like 
to survive the burn and that, perhaps, will allow you to come to 
better grips with what you've done."

"I feel like I need more than just answers."

John smiled and nodded. He could understand Fred's position and 
his need for some sort of redemption. He suggested, "Those kids 
have a bunch of books that someone should read to them. I'm 
checking out soon and then there will be no one. A new sadness 
will settle in that room."

Fred sat quietly lost in private thoughts.  He recognized that a need 
that had been within him for forty years could now be answered. 
He slowly stood and turned to the door. With soft steps, he left the 
room without saying another word. John watched him leave. He 
smiled as he recognized that Fred was a man about to undertake a 
mission of his own making. It was now only a matter of 
summoning up sufficient courage.

An hour later a very petite young nurse entered the room. She had 
short brown hair, green eyes, and oval face. She wore a white skirt 
rather than the white pants that were the most frequent garb worn 
by nurses within the hospital. Even with the loose over-shirt, it was 
easy to tell that she had very small breasts. She had a very nice 
smile that reminded John of Lily, the woman that had been 
vacationing by working as a waitress. She broke the silence, "John, 
I'm Susan."

"Nice to meet you Susan. Are you here to collect more blood?"

"Oh, nothing so bad. I'm here to give you a bath."

John blushed as he thought back to the last sponge bath he had 
received. He had covered almost the entire hospital looking for 
Betsy, but no one would tell him how to reach her. He was sure 
this would be a regular sponge bath. He laughed, "Good, I was 
afraid that I'd die of blood loss if a mosquito bit me when I leave 
here." 

"So long as you die outside the hospital, it isn't our fault," laughed 
the nurse. She continued, "Now get undressed while I get 
everything ready."

John sat there puzzled for a minute and then got undressed down to 
the hospital gown. He assumed that this is what she meant. In the 
meantime, the nurse had gone into the bathroom and filled the 
basin with warm water. John had just returned to the bed when the 
nurse exited the bathroom. His jaw dropped and his cock rose 
when he saw that she was completely naked. Her body was thin, 
but not so thin that her bones showed. She retained a feminine 
figure. Her breasts were almost non-existent, but her nipples were 
the twice size of erasers. He had once heard that the nipples on 
small-breasted women tended to be very sensitive. He wondered if 
it was true.

She laughed on observing him in the bed. His reaction to her body 
was given away by the nice tent in his hospital gown. She said, 
"You're still dressed, silly. Now take that off while I get everything 
else ready for your bath."

 John slowly removed his hospital gown. His emotions were 
divided between embarrassment, desire, and reluctance. His 
embarrassment arose because of his extremely visible erection. His 
desire was rooted in the normal sex drive of a healthy male. His 
reluctance was rooted in his wish that it was Betsy giving him the 
bath rather than Susan. However, the sex drive knows no 
boundaries of right or wrong particularly when one is not in a 
committed relationship. It won out as the excitement of a naked 
woman fueled it. 

The sponge bath proceeded very normally. There were no overt 
sexual advances as she washed his back, legs, arms, and chest. 
Even when reached his groin, her touch remained professional. She 
had avoided directly touching his cock and balls. As soon as she 
finished washing him, she stated, "Well, that wasn't too bad was 
it?"

John's erection had remained through the whole bath. In fact, it had 
become even harder. As she had moved around, she had given him 
very nice views of her body. The contrast between the view she 
presented him and her professionalism while bathing him had a 
strangely erotic effect. His voice cracked, "Not bad at all."

She smiled, "Now we have to increase your blood flow. We don't 
want you to get bedsores."

She proceeded to lightly massage him. Her touches were feather 
light and brushed his entire body. It sent ripples of pleasure 
through his body. He was moaning from desire by the time she 
finished. He was about to relax when she took his cock into her 
mouth. She started humming as she worked her tongue around all 
of the sensitive parts of his cock. She paid particular attention to 
the shaft just below the head. He couldn't believe how quickly he 
approached the point of no return. He blurted out, "I'm coming."

Simultaneously, Susan pulled her mouth from his cock, wrapped a 
hand around it, and fondled his balls. The multiple changes in 
sensations delayed his orgasm only by seconds. He came as she 
massaged his balls with a soft touch.  As he recovered from the 
orgasm, she cleaned the semen off his body.

John stated, "Thank you so much. That was incredible. I've never 
experienced anything like it."

"You're welcome." She went into the bathroom for a minute while 
she dressed. John was totally amazed at the quality of the orgasm 
he had just experienced. Relaxing, he felt happy just to lie there 
and enjoy the feelings.

Susan came out of the bathroom fully dressed. She gathered the 
bathing materials and prepared to leave. She smiled, " I just wanted 
to thank you for helping my aunt."

John asked, "Who was she?"

Susan smiled, "Mrs. Sardon"

John nodded as he recalled the woman. She had a panic attack at 
one of the major department stores in town. He had helped calm 
her down and get her home. It was a little thing, but he 
remembered that she had sent him a thank you note. He replied, "I 
remember. She's a very nice lady; she just doesn't like crowded 
areas."

Susan eyes misted, "You really do remember her."

John smiled, "She sent me a thank you note. I really appreciated 
that."

Susan nodded, "She's kind of old fashioned that way. It would 
have surprised me if she hadn't sent you one."

John sat back and looked at Susan for a moment, "You really care 
about her, don't you?"

"Yes, she's my favorite aunt," Susan sighed. Susan worried about 
her aunt. The episode in the store had really upset her. That had 
been the latest in a series of anxiety attacks. She was afraid that her 
aunt would become housebound. If that happened, she had no idea 
how she could help her. Her hours at the hospital tended to change 
from week to week and she always worked overtime. She would 
not be able to do anything for her aunt with any kind of regularity.

"And you worry about her anxiety attacks," suggested John.

"Very much."

"I currently rent a room from a retired woman. She doesn't get out 
much. I do the shopping, fix things around the house, and deal with 
any strangers that have to come in the house. It works out well for 
everyone. She has me around to take care of things and I get a 
cheap place to live. Her family appreciates it because they know 
someone is around to take care of her."

Susan was thoughtful for a moment, "Thank you again. You've 
given me a good idea."

"Well, if you need someone then let me know. I know most of the 
graduate students on campus and can recommend someone that 
would be very good. Knowing your aunt, I would suggest one of 
our female students. I can leave contact information with Nurse 
Betty."

Susan smiled, "I just might do that. Goodbye, John."

"Thank you, Susan," replied John. He watched as she left the 
room. He knew he would be getting a call from her sometime soon. 

After dressing, John strolled out of the room and to the nurses 
station. Nurse Betty was on duty. His arrival was met with a 
knowing grin, "Did you enjoy your sponge bath?"

"Yes, very much. It is nice of you to take such interest in my 
personal hygiene," replied John. He knew that Nurse Betty was the 
one that had arranged the special treatments. He was curious about 
what would happen next.

Nurse Betty laughed, "Just part of our service plan for heroes."

"I know you won't believe this, but I'm not a hero. I'm just an 
ordinary guy that happens to be at the right place at the right time."

"Modest too," replied the nurse. She still couldn't get over the 
changes in the kids in the ward. After John had returned to his 
room, Fred Maxwell had come to her station to talk to her about 
John's suggestion concerning reading to the kids every day. He 
stated that he was going into semi-retirement and needed 
something to help fill in his days. 

When she had warned him about the children's appearance, he had 
replied that he had already seen the children and that there wasn't 
anything wrong with them that he couldn't handle.  The 
introductions to the kids went smoothly. He had complemented 
them on the construction of the new bookcase. They positively 
glowed as a result of his complements and now had a permanent 
storyteller. She knew that a hero didn't just rescue the maiden; he 
also made sure that she was going to be all right after he left. John 
had done that.

John shook off the compliment as though it were undeserved, 
"Would it be alright if I went for a walk around the hospital?"

"No problem. You might want to stop in the cafeteria though. Most 
people take their breaks there and you would be catching them at a 
good time to chat."

"Thanks for the suggestion, I'll do just that."

John headed directly for the cafeteria hoping that the person he 
was searching for would come in. He wasn't there for long before 
people started gravitating to where he was seated. All of them told 
him how honored they were to finally get a chance to meet him. He 
thanked them for all of their attention. Occasionally, he would 
mention Betsy and ask if anyone knew where she might be 
stationed. No one seemed to know anything about Betsy. After an 
hour, John was thoroughly convinced that either no one knew who 
she was or that they were protecting her from him in some way. He 
gave up and headed to his room.

Stepping off the elevator, he looked around. One more day and he 
would be gone. In fact, it probably wasn't even a full day now. 
Discouraged, he walked towards his room. As he passed the nurses 
station, he got an idea. Stopping suddenly, he asked, "Nurse Betty, 
I need some help."

"What's the matter?"

"I'm trying to find someone and no one seems to know her."

"Who?"

"Betsy."

"Betsy?"

"Yes, the woman that was here yesterday."

Nurse Betty frowned for a moment and then realized to which 
woman he was referring. She laughed, "Of course, no one here 
knows her. She doesn't work at the hospital."

"Oh," replied John. He didn't know how to interpret that. If she 
didn't work here, then how was it that she was here to give him his 
sponge bath yesterday. Had Nurse Betty hired her? He didn't think 
that was right.

"She works at another medical facility. If you want, I can let her 
know that you wanted to talk to her."

"Please, I would appreciate it so much," replied John. He caught 
the look that Betty was giving him and blushed in embarrassment 
as he thought back to yesterday. He stuttered, "It's nothing like 
that. I'd like to take her out on a date."

Nurse Betty just smiled and nodded. She watched him squirm. She 
had seen how much Betsy had wanted to be the first one to give 
him a sponge bath. She could see the excitement that the idea had 
for Betsy. The girl positively glowed as she talked about the times 
she had met John. She knew that Betsy would be calling him, 
particularly since Betsy had continued to rave about John after the 
sponge bath. 

John misinterpreted the silence for disbelief. He added, "Really. I 
just want to take her to dinner and a movie, maybe have a chance 
to talk to her."

 Betty laughed, "Okay, John. I do believe you. I'll give her a call."

Betty turned to fill out some paper work thinking that everything 
had been settled. John stood there waiting anxiously. He kept 
glancing at the telephone and then at Betty.  Betty noticed that he 
was still there. She suddenly realized he was waiting for her to 
make the call. She smiled, "John, I'll call her later. Don't worry. 
Now find something to do, okay?"

John nodded and walked away. He went in his room and sat in the 
chair waiting to hear from Nurse Betty. While sitting there, he 
turned his thoughts to the cold fusion problem that he had been 
working on before leaving the lab the other day. Again, the 
question arose as to what geological process could produce a cold 
fusion reaction. He thought about volcanoes, tectonic plate 
movement, and other such processes. None of them seemed likely 
candidates. He wondered if the paper could have been wrong in 
that area as well. There was still the difference between the actual 
temperature of the earth and the temperature that the earth should 
have been. Something had to account for that difference. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of lunch. The 
nutritionist, June Anderson, brought in another great meal. Lunch 
was a grilled cheese sandwich served with a bowl of tomato soup. 
Dessert was a bowl of Jell-O. June sat down and watched as John 
ate. His obvious pleasure at the meal pleased her a great deal. She 
had been surprised when he had asked for that particular lunch; she 
had been expecting him to ask for a roast beef sandwich or shrimp 
salad. John looked up and saw that she was watching him. He 
joked, "If I had known that hospital food was this good, I'd have 
gotten burned a long time ago."

June laughed, "You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm serious. I spend all of my time working or walking. I eat 
very simply, mostly cereals for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly 
sandwiches for lunch, microwave dinners. You've been really nice 
to me and I appreciate it."

June looked at him puzzled, "What kind of life do you live?"

John laughed, "I basically live like a monk."

"What, you live in a monk's cell?"

John nodded, "You know when I was working on my master's 
degree, I lived in a closet that I rented in a house. I'll admit, it was 
a big closet, probably six by ten feet in dimension. I slept on the 
floor, my clothes were on hangers, and my camping gear was on a 
shelf. When I moved here, I mailed all of my possessions to the 
university. It was three small boxes."

June frowned, "You're kidding."

John shook his head, "Not at all. Like I said, I live very simply."

June was shocked. She asked, "How do you live now?"

"Oh, I rent a room from a little old lady. She's nice, but she doesn't 
really trust me to use the kitchen," replied John. He changed the 
subject by requesting, "Tell me more about your grandmother."

"My grandmother?"

"Yes, I still don't know who your grandmother is. You told me that 
I helped her, but I can't place her to save my life."

"Let me give you a hint. She taught me how to cook."

John sat there and thought about that. Suddenly he realized that 
there was one woman that was always trying to get him to come 
over for dinner. She had tried to bribe him with pot roast, turkey, 
ham, and seafood. He tried to recall the name and then he 
remembered, "Your grandmother is Marge?"

"Yes," replied June. She added, "and one of these days you will 
have to come to her house for dinner. I assure you that you will 
enjoy it a lot."

"I'm sure I would. The problem is that I usually work in the lab 
until late at night, so I don't think I could do that on a weekday. I 
usually go hiking on the weekends."

June looked at his leg. She smiled, "I don't think you'll be hiking 
for a couple of weeks. You're getting out tomorrow, so why don't 
you let my aunt cook for you next Saturday?"

John nodded, "Okay, I'll be there."

"I'll let her know to expect you. She'll be delighted to hear the 
news."

John finished eating. June took his tray and left the room. John sat 
there for a few more minutes thinking about Betsy. He walked 
down to the nurses station and waited for Nurse Betty to notice 
him. When she looked up, she asked, "What can I do for you?"

He asked, "Did you call her yet?"

Nurse Betty looked at John for a minute. She thought about teasing 
him and pretending that she didn't know about whom he was 
talking. She noticed the serious look on his face and decided to 
relent. This appeared to be very important to him. She shook her 
head, "I'll talk to her. Now, I have to work."

John frowned, "I'm sorry to keep bugging you. It's just that I really 
want to see her again."

"You like her?"

John smiled, "Yes. I wanted to ask her out when I gave blood at 
the school, but I didn't have the nerve."

Betty smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'll call her and tell her you are 
serious."

"Thanks."

"So what are you going to do now?"

John thought about it for a moment and then laughed, "I'm going to 
teach the kids how to play Hunt The Bug Eyed Monsters."

Betty frowned, "I hope that it doesn't involve running around."

"Don't worry. It's a great game. Even kids that can't move at all can 
play it. They can be pilots, captains, navigators, gunners, and 
repairmen." John smiled, "I've never met a bunch of kids that didn't 
like it."

"Well, don't get them too excited."

John smiled and walked down the hall. He entered the kids room 
and sat down on the floor. The kids noticed him and formed a 
circle around him expecting him to read to them. Instead, he 
started to explain how to play a new game.

An hour later, Nurse Betty looked in the room to find the kids 
sitting in front of him with their backs to him. One of them 
shouted, "Captain, the Bug Eyes are straight ahead."

John stated in a serious voice, "Okay, pilot. Take us there. 
Gunners, prepare your weapons."

The kids shouted back, "Aye, aye, captain!"

One of the kids shouted, "There they are."

Two of the kids started making 'zzzzing' noises. John called out to 
the pilot, "Pilot, avoid their torpedo's."

John shouted, "Oh my, they almost got us."

The kids laughed as they insulted the Bug Eyed Monsters for their 
bad shooting. There was lots of laughing and giggling, as some of 
the insults were poor. John laughed along with them.

Nurse Betty smiled to herself as she returned to her desk. The kids 
had been smiling and enjoying the game. It was amazing to see the 
difference that John had made in the Burn Ward. He had done 
more for the kids and their mental health in two days, then the 
psychologist had managed in months. She returned to her desk and 
made a call to Betsy. 



Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 12

John looked around the laboratory satisfied with himself. It had 
taken him almost a week to clean the optics and realign them. He 
only had to balance the lasers and then he would be able to take 
data. Balancing the lasers would take most of a morning. That 
would leave the afternoon for him to take the data. He would start 
with that tomorrow morning. Today was Tuesday. He would take 
data every day of the rest of the week. It would be exactly the same 
data, but that would allow him to verify that the experiment was 
reproducible.  Actually, the data would have some variance from 
run to run, but the differences should be statistically insignificant.

He sat at his desk and looked over the papers that he had collected 
there. The majority of them dealt with the mechanics of fluid 
deformation. These papers covered the effects of applying pressure 
to a fluid; making measurements of deformations on surfaces; and 
formation of droplets of specific sizes. For most people, this kind 
of material would be as boring to read as a telephone book. To 
John, there was an entire world of amazing concepts and 
possibilities in locked up in a single droplet. 

When hiking, he often came across waterfalls. The rainbows that 
he had seen from various locations around the falls had fascinated 
him. He had seen simple rainbows, inverted rainbows, circular 
rainbows, and double rainbows. While studying physics, he had 
learned how rainbows were produced. He had come to understand 
the impact that droplets could have on light. Then one day, he had 
asked himself the question concerning what impact light had on the 
droplet. He hoped this experiment would help him answer that 
question.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ring of his telephone. It 
surprised him. This was the very first call he had received the 
entire time he had been at the university. He answered it to 
discover that it was the department secretary. She stated that he 
had a visitor and wondered if she should bring him to the lab. This 
had become normal procedure since a visitor had once set back an 
experiment by almost six months by breaking some equipment. 
Most researchers were very careful about inviting visitors into their 
labs, usually meeting visitors in their offices. Since John's office 
and lab were the same room, this presented a problem.  John 
looked at the table and decided that it was far enough to the side 
that a visitor wouldn't have much chance of hurting it. He told her 
that it was okay to bring his visitor down to the lab. 

While waiting for the visitor to arrive, John cleared the stack of 
papers that he had set on the second chair in the room. He wanted a 
place for his visitor to sit. He had just finished that when there was 
a knock on the door. He opened the door and greeted the secretary, 
"Hello, Jane."

The gentleman standing behind Jane was tall and solidly built. He 
appeared to be in his early fifties. He looked like a business 
executive. His hair was perfectly grayed at the temples and dark 
every where else. Jane answered, "Hello, John this is Director 
Mike Holden of the FBI. He has a few questions to ask you."

John stepped back to make room for the man to enter the lab. He 
replied, "Thank you Jane. Sir, do you want to come in and have a 
seat?"

Mike entered the room and looked around. The room was tidy 
except for a couple of small stacks of photocopied papers placed 
on the desk and on the floor next to the desk. The table on which 
the experiment was laid out was extremely neat and well 
organized. There was no mess of any kind. Mike answered, "Sure."

John sat in the chair at his desk and turned to face the FBI agent, 
"I'm sorry, I've never dealt with the FBI before. How am I 
supposed to address you?"

"You can call me Mike. This is an informal visit," replied the 
director. He studied John trying to correlate the description of his 
actions with his appearance. The mostly white beard looked rather 
strange. The longish hair gave him the appearance of a sixties 
reject. He was slender and didn't look that strong, but he did have 
an air of fitness about him. The light blue shirt and denim jeans 
made him look like any other graduate student. There wasn't 
anything about his appearance that set him apart from others, 
except for a kind of charismatic glow. 

"So what can I do for you?" asked John. He was trying to figure 
out what the FBI might want with him. Perhaps they were 
investigating one of the other people in the university, but the 
intensity with which he was being examined suggested that he was 
the target of an investigation.

The director studied John for several minutes. The directness and 
intensity of his gaze made John rather nervous. He finally broke 
the silence, "I was visiting a friend on the police force here and 
your name kept coming up in conversations. I was curious, so I 
came here to see you for myself."

John frowned, "I know a number of people in the police force. I'd 
be very surprised if they said anything negative about me."

"Oh, they didn't say anything negative. In fact, they claimed you 
were some kind of hero; that you went around saving people from 
life threatening accidents." The police officers had all said amazing 
things about this young man. He heard stories of the guy 
interrupting robberies, running into burning buildings, and 
covering others with his own body in drive-by shootings. The soft-
spoken young man did not suggest such heroic tendencies.

"I'm not any kind of hero. I'm just happy to be able to help 
someone when I come across a situation that I can fix."

The agent stared at John for another minute. He had seen many 
people perform heroic deeds in the past. Most had that same kind 
of modesty, almost an embarrassment at the attention they were 
receiving. The silence unnerved John, but he was more confused 
than bothered. Finally, the agent stated, "Yes, they said that you 
would say that. They also said that they had assigned an uncover 
cop to follow you around."

"Pardon?" asked a very surprised John. He had no idea that he had 
been followed. He wondered when that had happened.

"Yes, everyone thought that it was weird that you just happened to 
show up at the scenes of so many accidents, mishaps, and medical 
emergencies. They followed you to see for themselves. After two 
weeks of following you around they decided that it was just a 
bizarre coincidence."

John cocked his head, "They could have asked me and I would 
have told them that."

Mike laughed, "Well, it was possible that you were setting up these 
situations so that you could be a hero. You think they would have 
believed you if you said otherwise?"

"Sure, why wouldn't they?"

Mike shook his head. This guy was too trusting to be a crook. He 
decided to tackle the real reason he was there. He asked, "May I 
see it?"

John's heart seemed to stop in his chest. The medallion was the 
only thing this man could mean by his request. He asked, "See 
what?"

"The medallion."

John took a deep breath before asking, "What do you know about 
the medallion?"

"Show it to me."

John unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out the medallion. He lifted it 
in the direction of Mike. Mike leaned forward and examined it. 
John stated, "I can't take it off."

"I know that," Mike countered.

"You don't have one."

"How did you know that?"

John shrugged, "I don't know exactly. You've been touched by 
magic, but that sense of magic that comes with the medallion just 
isn't around you."

Mike nodded in agreement. He had heard that statement before 
from various psychics. He stated, "You also won't tell me how you 
got it."

John nodded, "That's correct. How do you know about the 
medallion?"

Mike sat back in the chair and stared across the room. He 
answered, "It's a long story."

"I have time."

Mike turned to look at John and proceeded to tell his story. "I was 
a simple soldier in Vietnam. Our unit had one of the lowest 
casualty rates in the whole theatre of war. You see there was a guy, 
Pete, in my platoon that would get some weird feelings and tell us 
what we should do. Sometimes, he'd say we should all hunker 
down and prepare for a skirmish. Other times, he'd say we should 
get out of that area and go in that direction. Occasionally, he'd stop 
our patrol and tell us to change our direction to avoid an ambush. 
Our Lieutenant listened to this guy as if he was some sort of 
prophet. The thing is, this guy was always right. In Vietnam, you 
learned to trust people with a sixth sense. It usually meant the 
difference between life and death."

"Well, one day we were on leave and the Lieutenant broke his leg 
in a freak accident. The army sent out a guy just out of the 
academy to take his place.  This guy didn't listen to Pete at all. 
First patrol out, Pete starts jumping around like a rat is chewing on 
his private parts. He keeps telling the Lieutenant that we need to 
get out of there. The Lieutenant ignores him at first and then after 
ten minutes of Pete's continuous jumping about threatens to shoot 
him. By this time, we're all nervous and jumpy as hell. You see, 
we'd been around Pete for a long time and trusted his instincts. 
Well, about five minutes later we find ourselves face to face with 
the enemy. All hell breaks loose and bullets start flying in every 
direction. We end up with one dead and seven wounded. It could 
have been worse, but we had been ready for action because of 
Pete."

John listened to the story carefully. He had an idea of why Pete 
acted the way he did. There were times when the urge to get 
somewhere was so intense he couldn't sit still. He had never been 
in a position where he couldn't leave when the urge came upon 
him.

Mike continued his story, "You would think that after that 
experience the Lieutenant would have listened to Pete. He didn't. 
Our second patrol started out like our first. Pete started jumping 
around and saying that we needed to get out of there. The 
Lieutenant threatened to shoot him. This time, Pete got even more 
frantic. Let me tell you, we were really spooked. We continued 
moving through the jungle for about a hundred yards and Pete 
almost goes catatonic. I was standing next to Pete and when he 
collapsed, I knelt down. At that moment, bullets start flying at us 
from every side. We were surrounded. Next thing I know, there are 
only three of us left alive. Pete, Harry, and myself were taken 
prisoner by the Vietcong."

"The first thing they do is search us and remove everything. Pete 
has this medallion hanging around his neck. It's just like yours only 
it says something to the effect of 'A Life To Save.' They try to 
remove it, but it sticks to his skin. They wrestled with that 
medallion for an hour to no effect. Finally, they decided they've 
been in the area too long and we were marched to a camp."

"There is nothing pleasant about being a prisoner of war. You are 
feed shit to eat and treated like dirt. What I experienced was 
nothing compared to what they were doing to poor Pete. They 
would beat him unmercifully and drag his broken body into the 
bamboo cage they used to hold us. He usually felt pain, but it was 
no where near what he should have been feeling. A week later, 
Pete would be back to normal. I've never seen anyone heal so 
quickly. No matter what they did though, they couldn't get the 
medallion off him. They also couldn't get him to tell them anything 
about it. It was unnatural that anyone could be treated so harshly 
and act so normally through it all."

"Things went on like that for a couple of months. Then they 
noticed that Pete reacted when Harry or I would be punished. They 
decided on a different tack. One day they dragged me into the 
interrogation area with Pete. They hung Pete from a rafter using a 
rope tied around his wrists. They tied me down in a chair facing 
Pete. Then the torture started. They would ask Pete a question and 
when he wouldn't answer, they would hit my feet with a bamboo 
cane. Soon, Pete told them everything he knew about the 
medallion. You could tell that telling his story was hurting him 
more than any torture they could have inflicted upon him."

John shook his head in sympathy with Pete. He could see how that 
torture would have a greater effect on him than getting hurt 
personally. He wondered how he would have stood up to that kind 
of abuse. With that thought, he hoped that he would never be in a 
position to find out.

Mike paused as he thought back to that day. He continued, "Well, 
the story didn't come out in a coherent fashion. I've reconstructed 
what happened from his answers to their questions. It seems he 
was in a park and encountered a woman. She pointed out the 
medallion to him and he went to get it. Along the way, he found 
someone bleeding to death. In another half a minute, that person 
would have died. He knelt down and gave first aid by tying a 
tourniquet around the arm. He carried the person to the medallion 
using a fireman's carry. On getting the medallion, the person 
turned into the woman and she placed it around his neck. He 
apparently fell asleep and woke up to find that two days had gone 
by."

John nodded his head at all the similarities between Pete's 
experiences and his own. A major difference was that Pete hadn't 
been raped. Of course, there may have been more to the story than 
his interrogators had gotten out of him. He cautiously added, "It 
sounds familiar."

Mike nodded his head. "Well, the story about the medallion doesn't 
end there. You see, they decided that they really wanted it. Since 
they couldn't get it off his living body, they decided to see what 
would happen when Pete was dead. I was still tied in the chair 
when the commander stepped up and shot Pete in the head. He 
died instantly. The medallion just evaporated. However, I went 
berserk. Somehow, a super human strength seemed to flow into me 
and I broke the ropes they had used to tie me into the chair. I went 
on a killing rampage. By the time I was rational again, every 
Vietcong in the camp was dead. Harry was standing beside what 
was left of the cage with a terrified look on his face."

"We made our way back to the American troops and told our story. 
We were both promoted and shipped out of Vietnam. Harry would 
never voluntarily stay in a room alone with me. He later killed 
himself."

John nodded, "Your story makes sense to me. I'm sure the Lady 
would respond to the death of her agent with wrath. Did Harry ever 
say what he saw?"

"A mutual acquaintance told me that Harry once got drunk and told 
him about that night. He said that I came out of the interrogation 
area glowing with a light that was red. I have no idea what a red 
light looks like, but that was how he described it. I was carrying a 
blazing sword and moved around the camp like an avenging angle. 
Nothing could stand against me. He said they shot at me the whole 
time and I was unhurt. He said that I was able to avoid each bullet 
that came at me."

John asked, "So what is it that you want from me?"

Mike sat there silently for several minutes. He was reliving his 
experiences in Vietnam again. Finally, he stated, "The fact that you 
are an active researcher helps my cause. I have many contacts in 
Washington. I can help you get funding for your research and 
support you in all that you need to do."

"Why would you do that?"

"Let's just say that I feel a debt to Pete. Somehow, I think we need 
people that carry the medallion in this world. I don't think you 
should have to worry about holding down a job where you can't 
leave when the need arises. Who knows who you might save. It 
might be the next Einstein or a future president. I don't know, but I 
think that if you don't save them the world will be a worse place 
than it is."

John thought about it for a moment. He knew that his time in 
Austin had already given him too much recognition. He was going 
to have to stay until he got his degree, but after that, he was going 
to have to keep moving. He didn't like the notoriety that he was 
getting. He stated, "I need to finish my work here. Then I need to 
move around. Too many people are aware of my activities here."

Mike nodded, "I noticed that. I can get you all the funding you 
need, but I suggest you keep your needs low key. That way, we can 
keep it going for the rest of your life. For now, I would take 
frequent breaks in your research so that you don't over expose 
yourself."

"I agree."

"Good, I'll go to Washington tonight. You'll have your funding in a 
couple of days. I figure 100K per year for your salary and 
overhead and another 100K a year for experimental equipment, 
travel, and other such expenses. That should be sufficient for your 
near-term requirements."

John couldn't believe what he had been hearing. This was a dream 
come true. He was so excited that he felt the need to walk. He 
suggested, "Mike, would you like to walk with me for a bit?"

"Feeling a little restless?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's go."

The two men left the lab and walked down the hall. John carried 
his walking stick. As they passed the chemistry lab, there was a 
loud explosion. A toxic cloud boiled out through the door. Without 
thinking, John took a deep breath of fresh air and ran into the lab. 
On the floor was one of the chemistry graduate students. There was 
no one else in the room. The fumes were burning his eyes and John 
knew he wouldn't be able to stay there very long. John picked him 
up and ran out of the room. Somehow, he managed to carry the 
student and his walking stick at the same time. 

While John was in the laboratory, Mike rushed down the hall 
searching for a fire alarm. Finally, he came across one and 
activated it. Sirens started blaring and lights started flashing. 
Within moments, everyone was evacuating the building. Mike 
helped John carry the unconscious student out of the building. The 
closer people were to the laboratory, the faster they seemed to 
rush. 

They had hardly stepped outside when the fire department arrived. 
As the firemen rushed to get into the building, John shouted, 
"You're gonna need a HazMat team. It was a chemical explosion."

At a faster pace then they had approached the building the firemen 
backed up. One of them ran to John shouting, "Do you know what 
it was?"

John answered, "I don't know. There was an explosion in a 
chemistry lab. It produced a huge cloud of chemical vapors."

The fireman helped them carry the student further away from the 
building. They were well distant from the building by the time an 
ambulance arrived. The fireman waved the ambulance over to 
where they had set the student down. On the arrival of the 
ambulance, John shouted, "This student was in the explosion."

The first man out of the ambulance was Harry. Harry smiled as he 
saw that John was there. As he rushed over, he shouted over his 
shoulder, "The hero has another one. Get the oxygen."

John and Mike quickly got out of the way of Harry so that he could 
treat the student as quickly as possible. The driver came up with 
the oxygen and started assembling a mask unit. Within a minute, 
the student had been stabilized.  The driver brought out the gurney 
from the ambulance. Harry looked up, "See you later, Hero. You 
saved another one."

"Thanks Harry. Take good care of him."

Harry laughed as they loaded the student into the ambulance, 
"Don't I always? I've never lost one of your saves."

Mike stared at John. He had never seen anyone act so cool under 
pressure and he had seen many professionals at work. He had been 
so busy carrying the student that he didn't even think of warning 
the firemen about the chemical accident. As the ambulance drove 
off, Mike turned to John and asked, "Is it always like this?"

"Mostly, a moment of excitement and then my work is done. I go 
on my way," replied John. He looked around calmly as though 
nothing had happened. He added, "Do you feel like a cup of 
coffee?"

"I guess I could use one about now," replied Mike. His heart rate 
had almost returned to normal. Probably less than ten minutes had 
passed since the explosion. The HazMat team hadn't even arrived 
yet.  

John arrived home a little after nine. There was a strange car in the 
driveway. He went to unlock the door and found that it wasn't 
locked. He didn't feel like anything was wrong, but this wasn't 
normal. Mrs. South had been acting strange the last week or so. 
She was always watching him out of the corner of her eye and 
smiling secretively. He carefully adjusted his hold on the staff and 
entered the house quietly. He called out, "Mrs. South, are you okay 
in there?"

The old woman's voice came back, "I'm just entertaining your 
friend, John. Come into the dining room and have some tea and 
cake."

John was very puzzled. He didn't really have any friends here. He 
entered the dining room and almost dropped his walking stick 
when he spotted Betsy. He grinned, "Betsy, I had almost given up 
hope!"

Mrs. South stated, "Why John, you never told me that you had 
such an attractive lady friend. She's lovely. Have some of the cake 
she brought over. I've got a pot of tea here too."

Betsy smiled at John, "I heard that a young man really gave Betty a 
hard time the last day he was in the hospital. It seems he kept 
asking if she had gotten in contact with me every ten minutes."

"Well, I ... I ... You know." John didn't know what to say. He had 
tried hard to get in touch with Betsy. Nurse Betty was adamant that 
Betsy be allowed to make the contact.

"I don't know," replied Betsy smiling at his discomfort. 

"Dear, you've got him blushing. I couldn't imagine this strong 
young man is as shy as a schoolboy at his first mixed social." Mrs. 
South was positively beaming. She could see young love 
developing right in front of her eyes. In her opinion, Betsy was a 
fine young woman practicing one of the few respectable 
professions for a single woman. 

Betsy laughed, "Almost every time I see John, he just stands there 
and blushes. He's so cute."

John frowned, "I'm not sure men are supposed to be cute."

"You're cute. Definitely, cute."

Mrs. South poured a cup of tea and put a slice of cake on a plate 
for him. She didn't want to come out and say anything, but she had 
been worried that John wasn't dating. It wasn't normal for a man 
his age. She had been very surprised last week when Betsy came 
over the first time. They had chatted for two hours about John. She 
was shocked when she learned the extent of John's injuries that had 
put him in the hospital. John had treated it as if he had the flu or 
something. 

Betsy was surprised to learn how simply John lived. She had been 
afraid that he was only interested in seeing her to have sex with her 
again. Mitigating that fear was the knowledge that he had 
remembered her from when he had donated blood during one of 
the campus blood drives. She was pleased to learn that he helped 
Mrs. South with errands around the house and occasionally helped 
baby sit her grandchildren.

John accepted the cake and tea from Mrs. South. He decided that it 
was time to ask Betsy out. His voice betrayed his nervousness, "Ah 
...  Betsy. There's something that I've been wanting to ask you."

Betsy smiled knowingly at Mrs. South, "What could you possibly 
want to ask me?"

Mrs. South interjected, "He couldn't possibly think that you would 
be interested in dating him. He's a monk and you're such a lovely 
vibrant young lady. I really doubt he has honorable intentions 
towards you."

"I know. I've heard that he was a womanizing cad."

John stuttered, "Huh?"

The two women tittered. Mrs. South enjoyed seeing her renter 
acting his age. Betsy had told her how much effort John had 
expended in tracking her down so that he could ask her out. The 
romantic nature of his search had touched her heart. Betsy enjoyed 
the attention he was giving her. She was amazed that this 
handsome young man was actually interested in her.

The two women had come to an agreement about dating. Mrs. 
South, despite her age, had been very understanding about the 
possibility that John and Betsy might want to spend the night 
together here in the house. She had surprised Betsy with a 
revelation that when she was younger than Betsy; she had posed in 
the nude for her boyfriend. She had actually shown Betsy the 
pictures he had taken of her.  The two had really become fast 
friends, talking about life and love. 

John was still stuttering incoherently. He didn't know how to react. 
Mrs. South was usually a very prim and proper woman. He didn't 
know where Betsy had heard that he was a womanizing cad. He 
protested, "I'm not a monk and I'm not a cad."

Betsy laughed aloud, "We know that. This guy is so cute."

Mrs. South laughed, "If I were fifty-five years younger, I'd be 
chasing him myself. God knows I had the body for it back then."

Even though he knew they were teasing him, John was shocked, 
"Mrs. South!"

She turned to John and stated, "You don't think I was always 
seventy-five years old, did you?"

"Of course not."

Betsy stated, "You should have seen her then. She was gorgeous."

John realized that these two had been talking with each other for a 
long time. He asked, "You know each other?"

"I came over here last week and met Mrs. South. We've been 
gossiping about you almost everyday."

"Oh." He didn't know what to make of that information. He 
guessed this was the cause of Mrs. South's strange behavior over 
the past week.

Mrs. South interjected, "So stud, are you going to ask her out?"

"How can I? I can't be a man of mystery anymore. You've told her 
all of my secrets." He was smiling at the look of consternation on 
Betsy's face. 

"Oh you are so mean!" laughed Betsy. 

"So would you like to go to dinner?" asked John. 

Mrs. South looked surprised, "Dinner? Isn't that kind of old 
fashioned? What about a nightclub?"

John shrugged, "I don't drink and night clubs are too loud for us to 
have a chance to talk. I really want to know her."

Betsy blushed, "You're so cute. Of course, I'll go with you."

John smiled, "That's great. How about Friday?"

Betsy nodded, "Okay."

John was quiet for a moment and then stated, "Betsy, I know this is 
highly irregular, but would you mind if Mrs. South went to dinner 
with us? I was going to invite her to dinner because I have a little 
something to celebrate."

Mrs. South frowned, "You don't want to drag me along on your 
date."

Betsy shrugged, "Sure why not."

John explained, "Today, I learned that I'm getting my research 
funded for life. It means that I never have to search for funding 
ever again."

The two women looked at each other in surprise. Neither one of 
them had ever heard of such a thing. Finally, Mrs. South spoke up, 
"Dear, you have to grab this one and never let go. Not only is he 
handsome, he's also smart."

Betsy smiled. "What do you think I should do to keep him?"

"Oh, I definitely think that you're going to have to give him lots of 
sex. The kinkier the better."

John had been taking a sip of his tea and almost choked on it. He 
decided that he wasn't going to take another drink, if they were 
going to keep surprising him like this. 

Betsy asked, "What do you suggest?"

"Oh, I think threesomes, foursomes, and a little swapping now and 
then would be a good idea."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, and you'll need to walk around naked in the house. I might 
even suggest a little role-playing. My husband and I used to play 
Tarzan and Jane all of the time." Mrs. South was talking in such a 
matter of fact voice, that neither of the two doubted that she had 
done all of those things at one time. Of course, Betsy was a little 
more prepared for the revelations than John. The two women had 
shared many personal details over the past two weeks. 

Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 13

Life for John had changed significantly over the past eight months. 
He had a raise because of the funding Mike Holden had arranged. 
He had even bought a jeep of his own. His professors treated him 
much better now that he was covering the costs of his research. His 
research was going well and was beginning to show results that he 
could publish and use in his dissertation. The best change in his 
life was his relationship with Betsy.

Betsy spent several nights a week at the house with him. She was 
an amazingly exciting woman and had the kind of open free spirit 
that he appreciated. She enjoyed sex with a naturalness that was 
refreshing. She enjoyed oral sex and woke him every morning that 
she spent at the house with a wonderful blowjob. She even 
requested anal sex on occasion, something that none of his past 
lovers had ever requested. Her occupation as a nurse had given her 
a very good understanding of male anatomy. She used that 
knowledge to massage his prostate gland during sex. The result of 
her administrations was a mind-blowing orgasm.

The one thing that would turn John off a woman faster than 
anything was to be treated like he was her property.  The most 
amazing thing about her was the total lack of possessiveness and 
jealously that she had toward the relationship. She would 
occasionally invite a friend over just for fun. True to the advice 
that Mrs. South had given her, she was more than happy to engage 
in threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes. That lack of 
possessiveness and willingness to play bound John to her more 
strongly than anything else that she might have done. 

He had been afraid that his relationship with Betsy would mean an 
end to his hiking, but that had not been the case. He had hiked 
through Big Bend National Park over the summer for a month and 
a half while she had been a volunteer with some sort of aid group 
for refugees. When Betsy returned, he and her had taken a nice a 
weeklong hike. He was still able to take weekend hikes since her 
schedule often required her to work weekends.

Dinner out on Friday nights with Betsy and Mrs. South had 
become a routine and one that he enjoyed very much. The 
conversation at dinner was always lively and interesting. He didn't 
realize how much he had come to enjoy those dinners until they 
didn't go out one Friday. Betsy had many patients that would chat 
about politics and Mrs. South watched cable news programs all of 
the time. He had to read the newspaper so that he would be able to 
participate in the dinner conversations without looking too 
ignorant.

He couldn't believe how sexually wild Mrs. South had been in her 
youth. She would tell Betsy about her past sexual experiences. 
Sometimes, John would be there when they had one of those types 
of discussions. Those discussions always struck him as surreal, but 
her recognized how similar Betsy was to the younger version of 
Mrs. South. He wondered if Betsy would have that same type of 
discussions when she was seventy-five.

One day Mrs. South reminisced about the times she and her 
husband had threesomes. She explained how she enjoyed two men 
at the same time more than when she and another woman were 
pleasing her husband. Betsy had asked her to explain why. It 
turned out there were multiple reasons for it and none of them were 
ones that John would have expected. She had explained that with 
two men she was the center of attention and was assured of many 
orgasms. She particularly enjoyed it when the men took turns as 
they would usually end up on her for hours at a time.  

There were reasons why she didn't enjoy the times when she was 
with another woman as much. Her husband would usually barge in 
before the women were ready for him. She liked pleasuring the 
other woman and receiving pleasure in return. The sight of two 
women engaged in sex with each other was often too exciting for 
her husband. It was also a sad fact of nature that her husband could 
usually satisfy only one of them. When she had sex with someone, 
she wanted to make sure that everyone had a good time. It didn't 
feel right when her husband took care of her needs and ignored the 
needs of the other woman. Betsy had agreed with her on all of 
those points.

Because of these conversations, John realized that he had been 
very mistaken in his understanding of the elderly. It was easy to 
see by the lines etched on their faces that they had experienced life, 
but he had considered that life in terms of working, raising a 
family, and dealing with debt. He hadn't stopped to consider that 
they often had fulfilling sex lives as well. Talking with Mrs. South 
had convinced him that his ideas about what constitutes a good 
marriage were correct. She had validated everything he had told 
Jenny and Jack. 

The only thing that hadn't changed to the positive was the nature of 
his rescues. He was still saving peoples lives at the rate of about 
one per day, but the circumstances of those saves were turning 
more violent. Outside of the first episode in which he had been 
shot, there was initially very little violence involved. Then it began 
to be fires, drive-by shootings, and explosions. Yesterday, a bank 
robbery had led to a major shootout during the lunch hour when 
the streets were very busy. He had helped pull a number of people 
out of the area and treated a policeman who had been shot. 

His body was now becoming a patchwork quilt of scars. He had 
been shot several times and stabbed more than once. None of the 
injuries was that serious, but it was taking a toll on his body. He 
continued to heal at a phenomenal rate and didn't experience the 
level of pain commensurate with his injuries. However, scar tissue 
tended to restrict his movements and he often felt stiff on cold 
mornings. His greatest expense was new clothes to replace the 
bloody rags that were often the result of a rescue. He carried a 
spare outfit in the back of his car.

At least the coming weekend looked like it would be fun. Jenny 
and Jack were coming down to Austin to scout out a location for a 
new 'Soup Shoppe.' He was looking forward to their visit. Their 
Friday night routine was going to be interrupted, but he expected it 
to be better than usual. Mrs. South's daughter had agreed to have 
Davie over for the weekend. John had taught her grandchildren 
how to fight bug-eyed monsters. He knew Davie was going to have 
fun. 

He was curious how Betsy and Jenny would get along. He wasn't 
worried that they would hate each other. Betsy knew that Jenny 
was married to Jack and so she had no reason to be jealous. Jenny 
was happily married to Jack, so there shouldn't be any problem 
there. The worst that he was expecting was indifference. He 
suspected that the real purpose of their visit to was check out his 
girlfriend and make sure that she was good enough for him. 

The reason Jenny and Jack stated for their visit was that they were 
looking at real estate. The actual reason was that both were curious 
about the woman that snagged their friend. Both were convinced 
that his wandering ways would prevent him from getting close 
enough to any woman to have a future with her. They had 
recognized an absence of that emptiness that was waiting for a 
woman to fill it. It was not that he didn't appreciate the presence of 
a woman in his life; it was more that he didn't have the drive to 
keep one in his life. That he had worked so hard to find this 
woman surprised them both. 

On Friday night, Betsy was the first to arrive at the house. She let 
herself in and announced her arrival in a cheerful voice. She was 
dressed in his favorite outfit of hers. It was a blue dress. It hugged 
her in all the right places and was loose enough to allow her to 
wrap herself around him. John greeted her warmly. He kissed her 
as his hands roamed over her body. He gave her bra-less breasts a 
nice feel that stiffened her nipples. Betsy was busy rubbing his 
stiffening cock through his jeans with her hand. 

Their passion was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. South. She 
criticized, "Boy, you guys are slow. I would have been on my 
knees by now."

Betsy laughed, "Oh yeah, show me!"

Mrs. South laughed, "Child you tempt me. However, at my age, if I 
get on my knees I don't think I'll ever get up."

John found himself a little disturbed by this exchange. He excused 
himself to find a quiet place to think. He went into the bathroom 
and closed the door. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he started 
to think about Mrs. South and her behavior over the past few 
months. Her jokes about intimacy had become strained. Her voice 
had an edge to it that suggested she felt left out of life. He realized 
that she missed her husband and was in dire need of some affection 
from a male source. He wondered if Betsy realized this. He 
thought about some of the elderly men that he would meet on his 
walks and wondered if this wasn't an appropriate time to start 
making some introductions. As he thought about it, he realized 
there was one gentleman that might be perfect for her.

Getting his thoughts in order, he left the bathroom and joined the 
two women in the living room. He hadn't been there five minutes 
when there was a knock on the door. He excitedly raced to the door 
to answer it. Throwing open the door; he was nearly bowled over 
by an exuberant Davie. He bent down and gave Davie a great big 
bear hug while growling loudly. Davie thrashed about thrilled at 
the attention. Jack and Jenny were standing behind Davie laughing 
at the antics. 

Finally, Davie had enough and backed up giggling. He tried to put 
on a serious face in an attempt to act older than he really was. John 
invited everyone in and made the introductions. It wasn't until after 
the introductions were made than an uneasy quietness settled on 
the room. The women were sizing each other up while the men 
stood aside uneasily wondering how things were going to turn out. 
In a beauty contest, it would be hard to declare a winner.

Davie broke the silence with the kind of directness for which kids 
are known, "Mommy and Dad were both right, she's real pretty and 
she's nice." 

Jack blushed and acknowledged, "I said you'd be pretty."

Jenny smiled, "I said you'd be a good woman, of course that is 
automatic if John is interested in you."

Betsy winked, "I can be real bad."

John laughed, "That's when she's at her best."

Jenny laughed and added, "That's when all women are at their best, 
right honey?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Now that the tension had been broken, the two women started 
chatting together like long lost friends. When the conversation 
started getting a little too personal, John and Jack started trying to 
steer the conversation towards the weather or sports. Recognizing 
the discomfort they were causing, Jenny and Betsy locked arms 
and headed towards the bedroom. Mrs. South laughed, "You boys 
are in trouble now."

As the usual suspect in all accidents, Davie was immediately 
worried. He asked in a small voice, "What did I do?"

Mrs. South bent down, "You're the only one that isn't in trouble."

"That's good to hear." The relief on his face was quite evident. He 
looked up at Mrs. South and saw her smile. He decided that she 
understood how worried he had been. His mother had lectured him 
several times about not running in the house and breaking things. 
He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to say ma'am when 
he talked to an adult woman. He added, "very good to hear, 
ma'am."  

Mrs. South understood the delay as a child forgetting his manners 
for a moment. She smiled and added, "Do you know who's been 
waiting for you to get here?"

Davie looked surprised, "Who?"

"My three grandchildren. They can't wait to meet the best shot in 
the known universe."

John added, "You know, four of you together will be able to have 
two ships when you start hunting those dreadful bug eyed 
monsters. Of course, you probably wouldn't want to go into battle 
with the first and third best pilots in the known universe. You 
might like to meet the second best shot though!"

"Really?"

"Yep, really. Of course you might have to stay the night there."

"The whole night?" asked Davie in awe. He wasn't sure that he 
wanted to be away from his mom overnight. She always was there 
to tuck him into bed and now she wouldn't be there. 

Mrs. South added, "Of course, I heard they had put up a tent in the 
back yard and were going to roast marshmallows over a fire. They 
were planning to spend the night out there in the tent. You might 
not want to do that."

Davie's eyes were as big as saucers. He loved the idea of camping 
out in the back yard. He knew that John was always hiking and 
camping. Now that he was getting older, he would get to try 
camping too. He was thinking quickly, "I want do it! I'll even fight 
off any bears that come around."

Jack laughed, "I wouldn't worry about that. There aren't any bears 
around here, Davie."

When Mrs. South's daughter arrived with her kids later, Davie was 
all set to go. The kids started talking excitedly about the adventures 
they were going to have that night. There wasn't even a second of 
hesitation in incorporating Davie into the fearless threesome. 

Amid a lot of noise and excitement, Jenny waved goodbye to her 
child for the first time ever. Davie, carrying a blue overnight bag, 
went out the door with hardly a look back. When he reached the 
car door, he did look back. His features were tinged with a mixture 
of excitement and fear. John made an okay sign and winked. Davie 
relaxed, smiled, and then climbed into the car.

The five adults were left in the living room. Jenny, sitting in the 
middle of the couch, was a little misty eyed. Jack tried to console 
her by telling her that everything would be okay. When his efforts 
started to fail, Mrs. South came over and put her hand on Jenny's 
leg, "Dear, I know how tough it is to watch them go off like that. 
What you are feeling right now is perfectly normal. Whenever I 
sent one of my kids off to school for their first time, I spent the rest 
of the day crying. So if you feel like crying, you just go right 
ahead."

The permission to cry had exactly the opposite effect on Jenny, just 
as Mrs. Smith had predicted. Jenny sat up and pulled herself 
together. She grabbed Jack, "Let's put up the luggage and change. 
It's almost dinner time and I'm sure everyone is ready to eat."

It was less than ten minutes before everyone was ready to go. John 
opened all of the doors to his jeep and watched as everyone piled 
in. Mrs. South sat in the front passenger seat. Jack sat in the middle 
of the back seat with Betsy and Jenny on each side of him. He got 
in the drivers seat and looked in the rear view mirror. Jack looked 
very happy about the seating arrangements. John couldn't blame 
him. He was tempted to get out and have Jack drive them.

Dinner was a great success. Betsy and Jenny acted as if they were 
long lost sisters and Mrs. South was the elderly aunt. Jack and John 
talked through the evening. Jack was excited about the grand 
opening of their third Soup Shoppe. John was still excited about 
his funding. Together they worked out an investment plan that 
would help John buy a house in the near future. John was saving 
about 30K a year. He wanted to wait three years before buying a 
house and to buy it outright. He and Jack argued about the tax 
benefits of a mortgage. John favored the benefits of outright 
ownership, but Jack convinced him that carrying a small mortgage 
could make paying property taxes and insurance easier.  

One minor problem occurred as they were leaving the restaurant. 
Two young men were trying to wrestle a young lady into an alley 
near the parking lot. John used his walking stick to get their 
attention by hitting the backs of their legs. Both immediately fell to 
the ground as their knees collapsed out from under them. Seeing 
John with a five foot long pole, and Jack behind him, the two 
youths lost their nerve and ran off down the alley. Two police 
officers showed up at the end of the alley and captured the boys. 
The young lady was quite thankful for her rescue. John and his 
party left after making a statement to the officers.

After the evening out wound down, John and Jack sat in the living 
room talking. They had settled into that comfortable flow of male 
conversation that was often punctuated by silences that would 
drive women crazy. They'd sit there not talking and then one or the 
other would make a comment about the state of the world. The 
other would add his comments and they'd lapse into silence again. 
Both men were comfortable. 

Jack broke the silence, "Does that happen much?"

"Does what happen?"

"Showing up at the right time and place to save someone."

"Yeah. Just about every day."

"Interesting. Does it bother you?"

"Not really."

The two men lapsed into silence again. Their comfort was 
interrupted when the two women blew into the room like miniature 
tornadoes. 

Jenny announced, "We're going to bed now."

Betsy added, "If you're smart, you'll come to bed in ten minutes."

"But not before!"

The two women left the room amid lots of giggles and elbows. 
Jack and John watched them leave. They sat there for a minute 
without saying anything. Finally, John said, "They have something 
planned for us tonight."

"Yep, I wonder what it is."

They sat there for a little while longer sipping their drinks. Jack 
said, "I guess it's about time for us to discover what they're 
planning."

"Yep, we'll know soon enough."

The two men got up and headed to their respective bedrooms. They 
were both shocked when on opening the door, they didn't see the 
woman they were expecting to see. John was greeted by a totally 
naked smiling Jenny. She was on her side patting the other side of 
the bed in an invitation. John smiled, "Oh my, I seem to have the 
wrong room."

Jenny laughed, "No, you have the right room."

"I'd better get permission from Betsy and Jack."

"Oh, come on. Aren't you afraid that you'll interrupt them?"

John shook his head, "I bet Betsy and Jack are having exactly the 
same conversation right now."

Jenny smiled, "She doesn't have you trained right. You are 
supposed to shut up and start fucking when you find a naked lady 
in your bed. Didn't she explain that to you?"

"I must have missed that lesson," replied John. He opened the door 
and stuck his head out. Jack, at the other end of the hall, was 
looking back at him. They smiled at each other.

"Is it okay with you?" they both asked at the same time and 
answered together with, "Okay with me."

The two women both shouted out at the same time, "It's okay with 
me!"

John and Jack headed into their respective bedrooms. John was 
met with a smiling Jenny, "John, you know that we bet Mrs. South 
that you guys wouldn't do what you just did. She said you would 
because you are both good men."

John laughed, "You should never doubt Mrs. South's assessment of 
people. She's a shrewd woman."

Jenny laughed, "Now get naked, man! I owe you a real good 
fucking!"

John stripped and joined Jenny on the bed. The kisses and caresses 
were spontaneous and fun. Neither took themselves seriously and 
the fact that there were no expectations about commitment made it 
easier from them to relax. There was tickling and laughing. The 
sexual prowess of the other was called into question in lighthearted 
teases. There were the noises that bodies make when air is trapped 
between them. The activities were exactly the opposite of the last 
time in which they had been in bed. When Jenny asked him to do it 
doggy style, he started barking. The laughter only slightly 
interfered with their mutual pleasure. 

As John and Jenny lay in bed recovering from their orgasms, John 
stated, "That was a very different experience than the last time."

Jenny concurred, "Yes, I got some really good advice and followed 
it religiously. Jack and I both want to thank you a lot for what you 
said that evening. We have been exploring our limits and learning 
as much as we can."

"I can tell. You weren't posing for me when I came in."

"Yes I was!"

"Huh? That wasn't Playmate of the Month waiting for me in bed." 

"What you saw was Jenny the seductress pose."

John laughed, "Okay, I'll accept that. You have any other poses?"

"Of course, but you aren't ready for Jenny the slut yet! Almost 
killed Jack with that one the first time I used it."

John laughed, "You've probably got the same set of poses Betsy 
uses on poor little me."

Jenny smiled, "You know, I really like her."

"I hoped you would."

"She's a real nice person inside. She really cares, if you know what 
I mean."

John nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. That trait attracted 
him to her. She was very careful when she took his blood during 
the first blood drive. There wasn't the rush to get the needle in and 
the blood out. She had stayed and talked to him. He added, "You 
know, she's a nurse. She takes that caring nature to work with her. 
I'm amazed at how much of herself she gives to people."

"Actually, I knew she had to be a Saint to be with you. I was just 
worried because all the Saints I ever knew were ugly."

"Why would she need to be a saint? I'm not that difficult to live 
with."

Jenny smiled, "There are not many woman who can live with a guy 
that charges into danger every time something bad starts to happen. 
If Jack started to do that, I'd break both his legs. His charge would 
be so slow that the danger would be over by the time he got there!"

John was silent for a minute thinking about what Jenny had said. 
He knew Betsy worried about him, but he couldn't ignore his 
urges. They were too strong. The worse the situation and the closer 
it was, the stronger the urge became. He frowned, "Do you think 
she worries about me?"

"Of course she does. I'm sure that every time something bad 
happens around you, a little part of her dies. She cares for you very 
much and wouldn't like to see you hurt."

"Did Betsy talk to you about this?"

"No. She didn't need to tell me anything. I saw how she reacted 
when you went after the two punks earlier this evening. She was 
terrified. Hell, Jack didn't even have a chance to join in and I was 
scared to death for him."

John thought about how Betsy acted after something particularly 
violent happened. Often those nights she wouldn't come over to the 
house. He wondered if she was at home crying or if she was angry 
with him. The only one that could help him was Mrs. South. She 
and Betsy talked regularly about topics that he was excluded from 
knowing about. He suggested, "She met me in the hospital and saw 
the injuries."

Jenny shook her head, "Which injuries? The burn on your leg, that 
cut down your back, the bullet hole in your shoulder, the cut on 
your leg, the bullet hole in your arm, or that little scratch you've 
got bandaged on your leg?""

"She was there when I got the burn and the cuts on my back and 
leg."

"And the bandage?"

"Oh, that was a gunshot wound that I got the other day. It's a flesh 
wound."

Jenny shook her head, " I'd have gone ballistic if Jack came home 
with a gunshot wound. I'm glad I'm not Betsy. I'm not your 
girlfriend, but I have to tell you that I'm worried about you. You're 
a mass of scars."

"I guess I better talk to Betsy and see how she feels about what has 
been happening to me."

Jenny waited for a minute and then giggled, "Until then, why don't 
we see how many times you can make me cum?"

It was two hours later that an exhausted John laid back on the bed 
amazed at the stamina Jenny exhibited. He had licked her until his 
tongue was numb. His fingers were worn out. His cock was rubbed 
raw. Still, she kept going and going. After a dozen orgasms or 
more, she still wanted more. He was tempted to get Jack in the 
room to help him. 



Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 14

John leaned against his walking stick waiting for Mr. Jensen to 
settle into his chair. It was an old chair; one that had been repaired 
many times yet remained functional and level. The yard was neatly 
trimmed and free of weeds. The grass was green despite the time 
of year. The porch was clean; he swept it every morning with a 
broom that looked as old as he. The house was in good repair. John 
had watched him paint the outside of the house last summer. For a 
man in his seventies, he was still very active.

"Oh, John. I didn't see you there."

"I was just waiting for you to get settled, Mr. Jensen."

"Call me Jim."

"Sure Mr. Jensen."

"I had to try. You're too polite for these times. A kid called me old 
fart this morning. I guess I prefer Jim to Mr. Jensen and Mr. Jensen 
to old fart."

John laughed, "I hope you hit the kid with your cane!"

"Nah, he was just a young punk raised by irresponsible parents. 
Can't teach them manners once they reach a certain age."

"I must agree with you on that, sir."

Jim assessed John, "Your parents did well with you."

"Thank you, sir. I must admit there were times that it must have 
been rough for them."

"Kids are still kids. Never saw a perfect parent-child relationship. 
The kids want to grow up and the parents want them to stay kids. 
That's always a recipe for conflict."

"True."

John readjusted his stance a little impatiently. Mr. Jensen noticed, 
"So why are you stopping here to talk to this old fart, anyway?"

John laughed, "Old fart indeed. You're twice as spry as a man half 
your age. I stopped by because I need to ask a favor of you."

"Ask away," responded Jim. He liked the idea of being useful and 
appreciated John thinking he could ask him for something. One of 
the greatest tragedies of growing old was being treated as if you 
were useless.

"Well, I'm wanting to do some electrical work on the house where 
I'm living. You know, the wiring is close to 60 years old. Modern 
appliances have plugs that don't fit sockets. The front light should 
be changed to allow it to come on by detecting motion. Just a 
number of things like that."

"Sounds to me that you have a handle on it."

"Not really, I know what isn't right. I don't know how to make it 
right. So," John paused, "I was wondering if you could give me 
advice and watch over me. Make sure that I don't make any major 
mistakes that could burn down the house."

Jim sat back and stroked his chin for a minute, "I guess you know I 
was a licensed electrician at one time."

"You know, I do recall you telling me that fact once upon a time."

"Sure, John. I'll do it for you. You help everyone around here all of 
the time. I suppose a little turn about is fair play."

"I can offer you $10 an hour cash. It'll add a little something to 
your pension. Might be able to take some girl out for an early 
dinner and a movie."

Mr. Jensen laughed, "Dinner and a movie? Young man, I take my 
women to the submarine races."

"What are those?"

"Well, it is a very special kind of date. You drive her up to a quiet 
place along a river and tell her you are there for the submarine 
races. Since submarines race under water, there isn't much to see. 
So that leaves lots of time for other things, if you know what I 
mean."

"So I take it you're still active?"

Mr. Jensen laughed, "Ever hear of Viagra, boy?"

"So you get many dates?"

"Nah, old women turn into a bunch of prudes. You'd think they 
were all virgins by the way they act."

John smiled as he thought about his landlord. She definitely wasn't 
a prude. He asked, "So you'll help me?"

"Sure thing and don't worry about the money. Having something to 
do is reward enough."

"If you say so. Can you come by the house tomorrow around 11?"

"Sure," replied Mr. Jensen.

John gave him the address and reconfirmed the time. He turned 
towards home walking in a happy manner. Finally, he would be 
able to plug in his computer and have the front porch light turn 
itself on when he got home late at night. Those were reasons 
enough to have Mr. Jensen help him.

Returning to the house, he told Mrs. South that he had asked a man 
to help him do some work around the house. He gave her the time 
Mr. Jensen would arrive. He stated that he would be returning from 
the university in time to meet him there.

The next morning, John sat in his office watching the clock. A few 
minutes before eleven, he called Mrs. South and told her he would 
be arriving a little late. He asked if she could take care of Mr. 
Jensen until he arrived. He waited another fifteen minutes and then 
headed home.

He entered the house to find Mrs. South, Betsy, and Mr. Jensen 
having coffee at the table. He poured a cup of coffee and joined 
them. The conversation turned to the work that John wanted to do 
around the house. Mrs. South made a couple of other suggestions, 
including adding a dimmer switch to the lights in the living room. 
She made a remark about wanting to be able to set a more romantic 
environment. Betsy seconded the remark.

John and Mr. Jensen went around the house examining all of the 
outlets and coming up with a list of parts to purchase. John asked 
Mr. Jensen if he would come back Saturday and help him do the 
installation. Mr. Jensen readily agreed. 

John and Betsy left the house together. John dropped her off at the 
blood bank before heading back to his lab to finish his work there. 
He felt pleased with himself for introducing Mr. Jensen and Mrs. 
South. Even Betsy didn't know what he had planned. He even had 
left them alone without it looking obvious.

Saturday morning, John was in the hospital burn unit reading 
stories to the children. There was a new girl in the unit this week 
and she was having a miserable time. Her name was Mary and she 
was sixteen years of age. John was very familiar with her case, as 
he was the one who had rescued her from the fire. He entered her 
room after reading to the younger kids and addressed her, "Hello 
Mary."

"Am I supposed to thank you for saving me?" spat out Mary in 
anger. She could see that she had lost her beauty. The burn had 
ravaged her face.

"No, you aren't," replied John in a manner that was completely 
unperturbed by her anger. He could see the pain in her and 
recognized it for what it was. She now believed that she was an 
ugly woman. 

His answer and manner surprised her. She queried, "Huh?"

"You asked me if you were supposed to thank me for saving you. I 
said that you weren't." He smiled at her.

"You don't expect to be thanked?" she asked. She had rehearsed 
this scene a thousand times in her head and it wasn't playing out as 
she had intended.

"I don't expect it. In fact, I don't deserve it."

"Why? You saved my life!"

"Did I?"

"I'm still alive!"

John smiled, "Good, I had my doubts."

"I don't understand you," Mary blurted. She was totally off balance 
by this entire conversation.

"I am sorry. Let's try starting this conversation over again," 
answered John. He smiled and nodded his head, "Hello Mary."

Much less argumentative this time, she replied, "Hello John."

"Are you feeling better today than yesterday?"

"I guess," replied Mary rather guardedly. She was trying to figure 
out what he was attempting to achieve with this visit.

"Good, I remember when I was in here. Every day was a little 
better than the one before. Of course, sometimes you have a little 
negative progress. I guess that's to be expected though."

"You were in here before?" She hadn't realized that he was once a 
patient here and probably understood her situation better than she. 
It was even more remarkable that he would run into a fire to rescue 
her if he had already experienced what it was like to be burned.

"Oh yeah, I was a patient. Didn't stay long, but I like to come back 
and read stories to the kids every Saturday when I'm in town."

"You're that John?" She had heard about John from the other kids, 
but had not recognized that the John adored by the kids here was 
the same John that had saved her from the fire. 

"I guess I'm that John."

"Why did you come to see me?"

"Nurse Betty said that you were feeling down. So I came by to see 
why."

Mary looked away for several minutes. When she looked back, 
there were tears running down her cheeks. In a very small voice, 
she stated, "I'm ugly now."

"Do you think the kids in that other room are monsters?"

"Not really. They are all great kids. Every one of them has been by 
here to cheer me up."

"So why are you harder on yourself than on them?" He looked at 
her for a minute and then added, "Don't answer that now. Think 
about it and tell me your answer the next time I'm here."

"I will."

"Goodbye Mary, I'll see you next Saturday."

"Goodbye."

There was no need for John and Mary to ever talk about that 
subject again. She would come to understand that she wouldn't 
have the great looks of some women. She would also discover that 
things weren't impossible for a real life afterwards. She would soon 
meet other girls her age that had been through the burn unit in the 
past. 

John arrived home much later than he had told Mr. Jensen that he 
would be there. It wasn't a problem, as Mr. Jensen and Mrs. South 
had become quite friendly. John found them in the kitchen 
drinking coffee and talking. He poured himself a cup and sat down 
at the table. He stated, "Please excuse my tardiness. I was hung up 
at the hospital. Poor Mary is feeling quite ugly and unloved."

Mr. Jensen, unaware of the history, asked, "Why?"

"Forgive me. I rescued Mary from a fire earlier this week. She was 
quite badly burned. She is sixteen and that is an age where beauty 
is more important than life. I go to the hospital every Saturday and 
read to the kids in the burn unit. The nurse on duty told me that 
Mary was very upset, so I went in to talk to her."

Mr. Jensen stated, "That's very nice of you to do those kinds of 
things. I was telling this pretty lady that you are a good young 
man. I guess I didn't even know half of it."

Mrs. South added, "Do you know that many people call you 
Hero?"

John shook his head, "I know and I've tried to stop it, but they 
continue to do it anyway. It's quite disgraceful really. So many 
people are heroes, yet no one notices it. If I'm there, everyone goes 
wow look at what he did!"

Mr. Jensen winked at Mrs. South, "Well, Vicky and I were 
discussing all of your activities. You're quite a busy young man, 
you know. So we decided that I would do the electrical repairs 
around the house and give you a chance to visit your girlfriend."

"Mr. Jensen, there's no need for you to do all of that work. I just 
need you to show me what I'm supposed to do."

Mr. Jensen laughed, "Boy, you thought you had us fooled. I know 
you're fully capable of doing the work yourself. Hell, you probably 
know more about electronics than anyone I've ever met. I saw all 
your books on the subject the other day when we checking out the 
outlets."

John looked around the table at the smiling faces of Mr. Jensen and 
Mrs. South. He knew that he had been caught, "Well, I guess I do 
know a little about the subject."

Mrs. Smith interjected, "Besides, Betsy told us that you knew how 
to wire up a house. She's seen you working in your lab."

"Oh, she said that?"

Mr. Jensen laughed, "Yeah, right about the time we all figured you 
were trying to set us up."

"Oh, and I was so proud of myself for being subtle."

"It was pretty smooth."

"I hope you're not made at me."

Mrs. South laughed, "We figured that if you went to that much 
trouble, you had to have a reason. It took us a while to figure out 
why."

Mr. Jensen laughed, "Yeah, I wasn't about to admit that it was 
because I was a horny old goat."

"Or that I was a randy slut looking to get laid."

"I wouldn't have put it that way. I just felt you both were still 
interested in many of the same things," answered John. He was 
rather embarrassed because that reflected his thinking at the time 
accurately.

"Oh, like what?"

John desperately tried to think of something. The only thing that 
came to mind quickly was sex, but they had to have more in 
common than that. He blurted out, "Gardening!"

"I hate gardening."

"Same here."

"But you both do it all of the time."

Mr. Jensen laughed, "Hey, if you are old and your garden looks 
nice, no one figures you're actually a pervert!"The discussion was 
interrupted by the arrival of Betsy. She looked exceptionally nice 
that morning. She was wearing a forest green dress that set off her 
green eyes and complemented her brown hair. The dress was low 
cut and if she bent over, she flashed a very nice view of her breasts 
-- breasts that were unhindered by a bra. The dress came down to 
just above the knee. Her legs had the sheen suggesting they were 
encased in real silk stockings. She wore green high heals that 
showed her legs to best advantage, not too high so that she couldn't 
walk yet high enough to shape her calves.  She looked stunning. 
John took one look and exclaimed, "Wow!"

"You like?"

"I love!" His cock reacted to the sight she presented as she leaned 
over the table to look in his eyes.

"Well, I heard that you had an unexpected afternoon off. I came by 
to see if there was anything that I could do to fill it."

John smiled, "Are you willing to stand there all day so that I can 
stare at you?"

She swayed a little which caused her breasts to rub against the 
material of the dress. The action caused her nipples to get even 
more erect. She retorted, "Oh, you might want to watch me in 
action!"

"Are you suggesting that I might get to participate?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

Mrs. South interrupted the easy banter, "Would you two get out of 
here? I've got some needs that require attention right now!"

Betsy leaned whispered into Mrs. South's ear, "I'll take him in the 
bedroom. I don't want to go outside."

Mrs. South frowned and whispered back, "Why?"

"You know, he tends to get involved in big troubles. Do you know 
how many dates we've had ruined by him rescuing someone and 
then having to talk to the police for an hour afterwards?"

Mrs. South smiled as she thought back to some of the events she 
had seen with John Carter. She knew that he would get into 
something if he left the house. He usually did. She turned to Mr. 
Jensen, "Hey, did you say something about submarine races being 
held today?"

Betsy looked surprised, "Submarine races?"

Mr. Jensen smiled, "Yes, we can probably get there before they 
start!"

Betsy thought about it for a moment and then stated to John, 
"Maybe we can watch the submarine races. I didn't even know they 
had them!"

John laughed, "I tell you what, we'll go to lunch and then a 
matinee. We'll come home and watch the races on television."

Betsy thought about it and decided that the chances were slim that 
something would happen. Reluctantly she agreed, "Okay, that 
sounds good. Maybe we'll see you two on television!"

Mrs. South laughed, "I really doubt it dear, I really doubt it."

John and Betsy left the house. It was a beautiful day. The sun was 
shining, the air was warm, and the birds were singing. A contrail 
from a jet painted a white line across the blue sky. They decided to 
walk to Momma Mia's Italian Restaurant. It was less than five 
minutes from the house. 

Betsy appeared not to notice how nice the day was. As she walked, 
her eyes darted back and forth as if she expected a fire, shootout, 
or earthquake. John noticed the tension in Betsy and recognized 
the reason for her high level of stress. He was going to say 
something to her. However, he realized nothing he said would 
help. All that he could hope for was the chance that nothing would 
happen.

They arrived at the restaurant without a traumatic event occurring. 
The transition from the bright outdoors to the darkness within the 
restaurant required a moment for their eyes to adjust. The owner, 
well practiced at making people feel at ease, waited until their eyes 
could see before greeting them with great affection. He knew the 
pair very well and expected one day that John would make his 
proposal to Betsy in his restaurant. He led them to their special 
table in the back corner. It was quiet, dark, and secluded there. 

John helped Betsy into her seat and then slid into his. John looked 
around the table and spotted the candelabra. He commented, "Ah, 
something new?"

The owner smiled and nodded, "You are not the only ones that 
come here seeking a little romantic meal. However, romance needs 
privacy, as it is most intimate. Therefore, we have added a 
candelabra and a privacy curtain."

Betsy made a fanning motion with the menu as if she were hot. 
Talking as if she were a southern belle, she cooed, "I'm afraid that 
man will want to take liberties with me if you close the curtain."

"Close it now, so I can paddle her behind." 

"Is that a promise?"

"Sure!"

The owner laughed, "So will it be your regular meals for lunch?"

"Sure."

"Of course."

"I shall return soon, my little lovers."

Betsy and John watched him walk off with a smile. She reached 
over and took his hand. She pulled it onto her thigh, so he could 
feel the garters there. His cock immediately twitched. He traced the 
garter up and down her thigh. She smiled at the look on his face. 
She leaned over and whispered, "I'm not wearing any panties."

Her statement had the desired effect. John adjusted his pants to 
allow his cock the freedom to get erect without causing further 
pain. He hated it when his cock got caught in the leg of his boxers. 
It embarrassed him when he had to adjust himself like that in 
public. He often felt that nature was unfair in how obvious it made 
the arousal of a man.

Betsy smiled, "Don't you hate it when your cock gets stuck in the 
down position when it wants to be in the up position?"

"You witch! Casting a horrible spell upon me when all I want to do 
is feed you."

"Feed me? Don't you mean all you want to do is feel me?"

"Now I do!" 

She laughed while he groaned. The owner made his way to the 
table with their lunches. He overheard the laugh and the groan. He 
stated, "Either it was a very bad joke or someone is frustrated!"

John answered with a twinkle in his eye, "It was a bad joke that has 
left me frustrated!"

"Ah, the best kind." He set the plates in front of them. The two 
looked at their meals and smiled at the fantastic food. The aroma 
of the food teased their nostrils. He always had the chicken 
parmesan and she always ate the stuffed shells. The food was 
always excellent. 

John looked up at the owner and stated, "It looks wonderful as 
always."

The owner took out a wine bottle and presented it to the couple. He 
stated, "I have gone to extreme lengths to find the perfect 
accompaniment for your meal. I have a great sparkling grape juice. 
No alcohol!"

John smiled, "You are too much!"

The owner smiled as he opened the bottle. It made a nice little pop. 
He poured two glasses and stated, "This bottle is on the house!"

They raised their glasses in a toast. John said, "To love."

They took a sip, surprised at the taste. It was unlike any grape juice 
they had ever tasted. John stated, "Wow, this is amazing! Very 
good."

The owner smiled, "I special ordered it. I wanted something for 
those of you who avoid alcohol and ruin a perfect meal like this 
with iced tea!" 

John stated, "You have succeeded wonderfully."

The owner lit the candles on the candelabra. They cast a flickering 
pool of light on the table.  He stepped back and closed the curtains 
saying, "Just open the curtains when you need something and I'll 
return. Until then, enjoy your food and privacy."

As the owner walked away, they could hear him mutter, "I hope 
that he proposes to her. You can tell that they love each other very 
much."

John and Betsy looked at each other. The candlelight on her green 
eyes made them glow. John could see tears forming in the corners 
of her eyes. She sniffed and sadly stated, "Don't ask me now. I'd 
have to say no."

John looked at her with concern. He didn't truly understand how 
she could love him and yet not want to marry him. He knew that 
his frequent brushes with significant harm bothered her. Rather 
than confront her, he comforted her, "I understand, my dear. Let's 
eat this wonderful meal."She smiled appreciatively. They ate in 
relative silence. John's hand frequently returned to her thigh to run 
up and down it, tracing the outline of the garter. It was having the 
desired effect on Betsy. Her nipples started to tent the front of her 
dress.  His actions were also having an effect on him. His cock was 
straining against his tight pants. 

It took some time, but they finished their meal. They sat together, 
each touching the other with the intent to increase the passions of 
the other. John's hand continued to trace the garter. Each time his 
hand moved up the thigh, he pushed the bottom of her dress 
upwards. Her beautiful legs were slowly being exposed. Finally, 
the hem of her dress rose above the top of her stockings. John 
traced the top of the stockings with a single finger. His hand 
slowly moved back and forth along her inner thigh. She parted her 
legs to make it easier for him to touch her.

Betsy's hand was busy slowly tracing the outline of his cock. His 
cock was quite rigid and throbbed under the teasing touch. He 
wanted his cock freed to where it could be touched more directly. 

Betsy, smiling knowingly, reached under her skirt with her other 
hand. She ran a finger over her cunt coating it with her feminine 
juices. She took the same finger and ran it lightly over John's lips. 
As he caught her scent, he almost came from the excitement. 

He growled, "Let's pay and get back to the house."

She cooed back, "What's your hurry?"

He leaned back and then answered in a deep commanding voice, "I 
want to get down between your legs and lick you until you are 
drenched. I want to touch, kiss, and lick your nipples until they 
swell to bursting. I want to take you to levels of ecstasy never 
before obtained by a woman."

She giggled, "You better pay!"

John threw back the curtain as Betsy arranged her dress into a 
more respectable position. The owner showed up immediately, 
"May I help you?"

John croaked out as Betsy's hand returned to his crotch, "The bill 
please!"

The owner handed the bill over directly. He had it prepared in 
advance, anticipating the request. John pulled out his wallet and 
paid the balance with a nice twenty-five percent tip.  The owner 
stepped away from the table as John and Betsy stood up almost 
simultaneously. John grabbed Betsy by the hand as they hurried 
out of the restaurant. The owner smiled as he watched them leave. 
The smile hid his disappointment that John had not proposed to 
Betsy.

They reached the house in record time. Both were in a state of 
sexual excitement. Betsy had taken the opportunity to flash her 
bare bottom at John on several occasions. She couldn't believe the 
thrill that raced through her at the public exposure. John couldn't 
believe his fortune in having such a sexy young woman interested 
in him. 

They threw open the door and launched themselves into the house. 
John had his hands around Betsy's waist and was trying to pull her 
back into him so that she could feel his excitement. They both 
suddenly stopped as they looked at a naked Mrs. South on her 
knees giving an equally naked Mr. Jensen a blowjob. The older 
pair barely acknowledged the presence of the younger pair. Betsy 
grabbed John's hand and stated, "Way to go girl!"

The younger pair raced down the hallway to enjoy their afternoon 
together. They shed their clothes, dropping items as they moved 
down the hall. John was naked as the door to his room shut behind 
him. Betsy was wearing stockings and a garter belt. The sexual 
teasing over lunch and on the walk home had the desired effect on 
both of them. It wasn't long before they were busy pleasuring each 
other.


Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 15

John sat back and hit a carriage return on the computer saving the 
data from the current experiment. He smiled as he examined the 
experimental apparatus. He was satisfied that he had finally 
finished taking data. It was the last run of the experiment. There 
was more than enough data to explain the effects of light upon 
liquid droplets. He shutdown the laptop and closed it.

Leaning back in his chair, he considered the next steps to take in 
becoming Dr. Carter. In a few days he would leave town and then 
begin writing his dissertation. He felt like it would only take him a 
couple of months to finish it. All of the data analysis had already 
been completed and the results were very interesting. His 
dissertation wouldn't be long, but it would constitute a valuable 
contribution. His professor and other committee members were 
already suitably impressed with his work. 

He would graduate within the next year and that fact actually 
represented a significant problem for him.  He had a lifetime of 
funding. The question was where would he go to from here. He 
knew he couldn't stay in Austin and live any kind of private life. 
He was known to almost everyone in town and people reacted to 
his presence in one of two ways. Either they ran to him to thank 
him or they ran away in fear that something awful was going to 
happen to them if they stayed. 

If he left, what would he do about Betsy? She wasn't about to leave 
here and travel from place to place like a gypsy. He knew that he 
couldn't stay much longer in Austin and he didn't want to leave her 
behind. He guessed it was time to talk to Mrs. South again. She 
would give him good advice. 

He packed up his laptop computer and set it to the side. When he 
was ready to leave town, he'd come by and pick it up. For now, it 
would be safe in his office. All of the equipment in the lab was off. 
He could leave now, but he felt compelled to just stay where he 
was. 

Glancing at the desk, he noticed the cold fusion paper in the 
customary spot. He picked it up and read it again. Again, his mind 
turned to the problem of what geological process could create a 
cold fusion reaction. He decided that once he had become Dr. 
Carter, he would work on this problem. He wouldn't have to justify 
his time to anyone since he was fully funded.

He felt the urge to leave and set the paper back in the customary 
spot. Four years of reading this paper and he was no closer to a 
solution. He left the room carrying his walking stick. He took his 
time locking the door. The hallway was empty, but he could hear 
the professors giving lectures in the classrooms. He smiled as he 
watched a professor explain the right-hand rule to a class of 
undergraduates. Anyone, except a physicist, would think the guy 
had lost his mind by the way he was moving his hands.

He opened the door leading out of the building only to run into 
Officer Rickert. Office Rickert stopped, "Hello John, I was on my 
way to see you."

"You were?"

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something."

John nodded, "Do you mind if we walk while we talk?"

"No problem."

The two men headed towards the center of the campus. John broke 
the silence by asking, "Have you noticed that things seem to be a 
lot more violent in town lately?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. We've been watching 
you for a while now and we've noticed that the violence seems to 
center around you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you show up and bad things happen."

John nodded as he listened. He replied, "Do you think I'm causing 
them?"

"No. We know better than that. The reason we've been following 
you is that we know bad things will happen. We can see that you 
are not causing them, but you seem to go to where they occur." 
Officer Rickert walked along for a moment before adding, "We've 
been wondering if you are actually the target."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. It seems like amongst all of the normal activities, there 
are a few that seemed to be targeted at you specifically. Everyone 
else that is hurt is an innocent bystander that is being used as bait. 
They are hurt just to keep you in the area. In the last shootout that 
you were around, the majority of bullets were aimed at you."

"You know that if I came to you with that proposition, you'd say 
that I was going paranoid," laughed John. He countered, "Probably 
the reason the majority of shots were in my direction was because I 
was exposed the most."

"Hey, you were unarmed and not shooting at them. They should 
have been shooting at us, not you."

John walked along for a minute without saying a word. Finally, he 
asked, "What do you recommend?"

"You might want to get out of town for a while."

"Are you asking me to leave?"

"Only suggesting that you might want to leave before you get hurt. 
If there is some kind of evil force after you, then it might be wise 
to hide from it for a while."

John was about to reply when a shot rang out. He looked around 
and saw a kid lying on the ground in an open area. He dropped his 
walking stick and charged out to the kid's location. As he 
approached, he could tell that the kid was wounded in the leg. 
More shots rang out and dirt kicked up around him. He grabbed the 
kid and pulled him behind a water fountain. The whole time more 
shots were fired. He ducked down behind the fountain and ripped 
his shirt. He quickly put a tourniquet around the kid's leg above the 
bullet wound. 

He looked up and saw another person fall to the ground. Officer 
Rickert ran out and pulled the woman to a safe location. No shots 
were fired. After a short quiet, another shot rang out and another 
person fell. It was a woman. John ran to her and pulled her to a 
safe location. More shots had been fired as he had run to her. He 
felt a sting in his leg, but ignored it while dealing with the woman. 
He examined her and saw she had been shot in the abdomen. She 
had lost consciousness. The only thing that would save her was 
pressure on the wound until an ambulance arrived. He pulled off 
her shirt and used it to press down on the wound. Although it 
might have embarrassed her in other circumstances, she wasn't in 
shape to notice. John noted to himself that it was good that she had 
been wearing a bra. 

He looked out around the post behind which they were hiding. 
Another shot rang out which was quickly followed by a barrage of 
pistol shots. He could tell by the sounds of the shots that it was the 
police taking out the shooter. He heard Officer Rickert call out, 
"All clear, get those ambulances in here."

John shouted, "I've got a bad one here. A woman has been shot in 
the abdomen and there's lots of blood. The one by the fountain has 
a leg wound with a tourniquet on it. He can wait a minute, this one 
can't!"

His surroundings darkened as a large shape cast a shadow over 
him. He looked up in time to hear, "Hero! Looks like you saved 
another one."

"Hi Harry. Take care of her. I'll go over to the fountain until 
someone else shows up. The kid over there is probably very 
scared," he watched as Harry took over for him. He was always 
amazed at how confidently and calmly Harry was able to work. 

"Sure thing, Hero. You might want to get treated yourself. Looks 
like you took another one in the leg," replied Harry.

"Oh shit, I didn't even notice."

"I know, you never do."

John went over to the fountain and found the kid sitting with his 
back against the wall. He checked the tourniquet and sat down next 
to the kid. He stated, "How are you doing?"

"My leg hurts and I'm scared shitless. Other than that, I'm fine."

"Good," replied John. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a 
pocketknife. Opening it, he cut his pants to expose his own wound. 
It was a simple in and out wound in the fleshy part of his calf. It 
wasn't bleeding that bad, so he knew it hadn't hit anything vital. He 
glanced over at the kid, "You'll be alright now. Harry is over there 
with the ambulance. He'll take the woman there to the hospital. 
Before then, another ambulance will be here. They'll take care of 
you."

The kid started shaking, "How can you be so calm?"

"Easy, it's not my first time getting shot."

Officer Rickert walked over to John and sat down next to him. He 
handed over the walking stick that John had dropped when he 
charged after the first victim. John looked like hell. Having lost his 
shirt, the scars on the upper half of his body stood out. One pant 
leg was missing where he had cut it off. More scars were visible. 
Officer Rickert looked over at the kid and asked, "Are you okay?"

The kid nodded his head, but he looked very pale. John looked at 
him and stated, "Hey lie down and rest your feet up on my good 
leg. You're going into shock. Don't worry, it's a natural reaction to 
what you've been through."

The kid did as John had told him. Officer Rickert shook his head at 
the care John showed the kid. He stated, "The press is here."

"Damn." He didn't want to deal with the press. They had taken to 
following him around in hopes of catching a good news story. It 
looked like they had been lucky today.

"Don't worry, we won't let them anywhere near you."

"Thanks. I couldn't handle them right now."

Officer Rickert sat there for a minute as he watched the emotions 
on John's face. He then asked, "Did you think about what we were 
discussing earlier?"

"I haven't had much time to do any thinking, but I' believe you're 
right. Who ever it was, shot at me almost the entire time. Didn't 
even shoot in your direction when you went out and got that 
woman. He only shot someone else when I wasn't available," 
answered John. He thought about the advice Officer Rickert had 
given him. He continued, "I was planning on leaving town in a few 
days anyway. I think I'll leave town tomorrow." 

"That's good to hear. I'm glad you're leaving." Officer Rickert 
looked up and saw the ambulance coming. He nudged John, "Here 
comes George."

"George is okay. He's very methodical."

"Isn't that another way of saying slow?" laughed the policeman. 
George was often the butt of jokes within EMS circles. George 
recited the procedures for everything he did while he worked.

The ambulance stopped and the driver got out. George walked 
around the front and exclaimed, "Hero! Nice to see you again."

"Hi George. Take care of the kid first. He's going into shock and 
has a tourniquet on his leg."

"No problem," replied George. He went to work on the kid while 
the driver got out the gurney. George worked slowly and carefully. 
He had a habit of talking to himself as he worked. Usually, his 
monologue was a recitation of the steps that were to be taken. 

John looked over at Officer Rickert and laughed at the look on his 
face. He joked, "You get to ride in the back with him!"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you weren't a nice person?"

John nodded, "Don't worry, I'll ride to the hospital with them. 
You've probably got a ton of paperwork to fill out."

Officer Rickert stood and replied, "Don't remind me. You have it 
easy. You get to be hero and then leave. I have to stay and fill out 
reports."

The driver came over to John and looked at the bandage over the 
wound. John had wrapped it with the part of the jeans he had cut 
off. He asked, "Is your first aid good enough to get you to the 
hospital?"

"As always."

"Well, I'll let you ride up front with me. I'll appreciate the company 
and the fact that I won't have to listen to him talk to himself."

John laughed, "I know what you mean. I've dealt with him before."

Officer Rickert started to walk away and then turned, "Give my 
regards to Betsy. I'm sure she'll be meeting you at the hospital."

John frowned and called out to the back of the retreating 
policeman, "I doubt it. I probably won't see her for a day or two. 
She gets upset when I get injured."

George and the driver finished loading the kid into the ambulance. 
John hobbled over to the passenger side and climbed in. His 
wounded leg had stiffened up. At least he had the walking stick on 
which to lean to keep the weight off his leg. The driver got in and 
buckled up. John smiled, "Onward James!"

The ride to the hospital was uneventful. John watched as they 
unloaded the kid. Another ambulance pulled up with the final 
victim of the shooting, the shooter himself. John slowly eased out 
and walked into the hospital behind everyone else. A doctor was 
waiting for him, "Come on John. Time to stitch you up again."

"Thanks doc. You guys take such good care of me. Everyone else 
getting treated?"

"Yes. The woman is being rushed into surgery right now. She 
should do okay. You did a good job again."

"Thanks, but most of the credit should go to Harry and George. 
They did all of the real work."

"Right, you keep saying things like that and one of these years 
some one might believe you."

Their discussion was interrupted by a load yell, "Where's that 
boyfriend of mine?"

John recognized the voice. It was Betsy. John looked around 
searching for her. He waved her over happy that she had come 
down to see him. He called out, "I'm over here."

She marched up and looked at him. John couldn't place the funny 
expression on her face. It was a confusing mixture of emotions that 
definitely looked more angry than caring. She asked, "Are you 
okay?"

"Yes, it's just a flesh wound."

"Good," she replied and then slapped him across the face. At that 
moment, she lost all control, "How dare you get shot again? One of 
these days you're going to get killed. What am I supposed to do 
then? If you ever do that again, I'll kill you myself."

"Now Betsy, calm down," stuttered John. He rubbed the cheek that 
had been slapped. It stung more than the bullet wound. He wasn't 
sure if it was the slap that hurt or that Betsy was so mad at him.

"Don't tell me to calm down! I know all about it already. It was on 
the news. I watched the whole damn thing on the news. Can you 
imagine how I felt as I watched you running around being shot at? 
Don't answer me because you can't fucking imagine it. You are 
never to do that again! Do you hear me, you fucker? Don't answer 
me! You'll just tell me that you can't help yourself! You bastard, 
you are killing me. Did you know that? No you didn't!"

John watched in shock as Betsy proceeded to yell at him for a full 
five minutes. She was clearly hysterical. He was at a complete loss 
as to what he should do. She was suddenly rendered quiet when a 
friend of hers came up behind her and administered a shot that 
dropped her like a rock. 

Several hours later, John had been sewed up and Betsy had 
returned to consciousness. He had borrowed a hospital gown to 
wear in place of the shirt that he had used as a tourniquet. Once he 
had cleaned himself up, John tried to visit Betsy but he was turned 
away by one of her friends. He was told that she had left 
instructions that he wasn't to be allowed to see her. He waited 
outside for her, but she never showed up. He went back in and 
asked for her, but was informed that she had left already.

He finally gave up and left. A taxi took him to the university where 
he picked up his car. He took off the hospital gown and replaced it 
with a spare shirt that he carried in his car. He now kept spare 
clothes because experience had taught him that he was likely to 
loose a shirt or pair of pants due to unforeseen circumstances. He 
kept the pants he was wearing despite one leg having been cut off. 

Ten minutes of driving through late evening traffic and he arrived 
at the house. He sat in the car for fifteen minutes. He was in a state 
that was close to grief at the implications of Betsy's behavior. He 
was losing her and he couldn't think of anything to do to stop it. 

Getting control of his emotions, he went into the house. He was 
greeted at the door by Mrs. South. She didn't look very happy. He 
looked at her and stated, "Bad day. I think Betsy is gone."

"Probably."

"Did you talk to her?"

Mrs. South answered, "She was here when the news came on. The 
news showed you dragging that person to the water fountain. We 
were watching it when you were shot. She was furious when you 
continued to help other people rather than take care of yourself. 
She said that dumping you while you were alive was better than 
watching you die."

John sank down onto the sofa in great despair. He had not wanted 
to hear that from Mrs. South. She confirmed his worst fears. Every 
time the subject of marriage came up, Betsy firmly resisted the 
idea. He knew she didn't want to become a young widow. He 
looked up at her and asked, "Is there anything that I can do to get 
her back?"

"You can quit being a hero."

"That's impossible." The flat tone of his voice brooked no 
argument. He stated it as though it were a fact as undeniable as 
gravity. 

Mrs. South looked at him as if she was studying some sort of new 
specimen. She had seen him perform some amazing rescues and 
could see that he wasn't doing anything other than being himself. 
She sat down in the chair across from him. She stated, "You're 
telling the truth. You can't stop doing it."

"I had a Geas placed upon me."

"What is that?"

"It is a holy command from the Goddess. I must obey it or 
something really bad will happen," replied John. He rubbed his 
chest where the medallion weighed heavily and thought back to his 
experience in the woods. That was when it all started and it wasn't 
clear that it was ever going to end. He was sure that too much more 
violence would lead to his death eventually.

"You really believe that?" She had never understood his talk about 
gods and goddesses. He never hid the fact that he was Pagan, but 
she never saw him do anything that looked sinful. In fact, he was 
one of the best men that she had ever encountered. If he were 
Catholic, she believed he would end up being a saint.  She was a 
good Christian woman and as far as she was concerned, there was 
only one God.

"I know it for a fact. I didn't always have a beard that was two 
thirds white. It went white the day the Geas was placed upon me."

Mrs. South was quiet for several minutes as she thought about 
what he had said. She remembered the story of Moses on the 
Mount. His hair had turned white after interacting with God. 
Maybe there was a little truth to his story. She asked, "Have you 
talked about that with Betsy?"

"I don't talk about the experience. I've just told you more than I've 
told anyone else."

"You told me nothing."

John sat there for a while staring at the floor. In a very quiet voice, 
he stated, "I'm leaving town tomorrow."

Mrs. South looked surprised, "What? You aren't going to talk to 
Betsy?"

"I have no time. It has become essential that I leave. The violence 
has been increasing and it looks like I'm the target. Being here 
places everyone in danger."

Mrs. South's expression became troubled. If she understood 
correctly, he felt like he was the cause of the violence. She 
wondered if he was becoming paranoid. Perhaps all of the violence 
had taken a toll on his mind. She questioned him, "What makes 
you think that?"

"Actually, it was Officer Rickert who pointed it out to me. He was 
there to ask me to leave town. He thought that something was 
hunting me. He thinks all of these shootouts have been designed to 
keep me out in the open where I can get killed."

"What do you think?"

John shook his head, "I don't know. For the first three and a half 
years that I've been here, I've treated heart attacks, traffic 
accidents, and other minor situations. Suddenly, in the last six 
months I've been in a dozen shootouts. I've been shot seven times. 
Something has changed. My body has become a mass of scars 
suddenly and I don't like it."

When he had put it in those terms, she believed that he was right 
about leaving town. She voiced her agreement, "I think you're 
right. You do need to leave town."

John took a deep breath and exhaled. He was tired. This kind of 
tired went beyond the physical. He was emotionally, spiritually, 
and mentally tired. He looked up at Mrs. South and studied her for 
a minute. He asked, "Could you talk to Betsy about this?"

Mrs. South answered, "I wouldn't know what to say. She's very 
mad at you." 

"Yeah, I know. However, she isn't mad at you. At least you would 
get a chance to tell her a few things."

"That is true."

"So you will talk to her for me?"

"Yes, I will. I'll let her know why you are leaving."

John stood up. He headed towards the hallway, "I'm going to get 
some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."

Mrs. South watched him leave. He was limping slightly. Still, he 
carried himself well. She thought about what he had told her and 
his concerns. After hearing him express them, she couldn't help but 
agree with him. He was a danger to everyone around him. It was 
true that the violence had escalated dramatically recently. How 
much longer would it be before someone attacked this house 
directly? 

The sad thing was that he was a nice young man. He was always 
helpful in times of need, even when the person he was helping 
didn't know it. He never asked for thanks and never expected 
anything in return. He never boasted about what he had done. He 
had given her three of the greatest gifts that an elderly woman 
could imagine. He had changed her life from waiting to die, to 
looking forward to tomorrow. He had brought action to a life that 
had long been stagnant and now encompassed Friday dinners and 
young visitors. He had introduced her to her current boyfriend. 

She was more worried about Betsy. The poor girl had broken down 
crying as she watched the news report earlier. She oscillated 
between furious and scared. It looked like Betsy was getting ready 
to end the relationship. Nothing that John had said tonight could 
possibly help mend the break. The poor girl needed to know that 
John would be safe from harm. She needed the security of having a 
good man in her life, for the rest of her life. While it was true that 
no one was guaranteed a long life, it looked like John was doomed 
to a short one. 

She couldn't imagine being in Betsy's place. What does a woman 
do when she loves a man that is in danger on a daily basis? She 
didn't even have the support structure that the wife of a policeman 
or fireman would have. She faced the likelihood of his death alone.

John closed the door to the bedroom and undressed. He stared at 
himself in the mirror and hardly recognized the person gazing back 
at him. He had lost weight over the past six months. His body was 
scarred and worn. He hadn't lost any of his muscle tone, but the 
skin looked older than his 30 years. He wondered how Betsy could 
continue to look fondly upon him. He had become ugly.

Moving slowly, he turned off the lights and got onto his sleeping 
bag on the floor. He fell asleep, but his sleep was disturbed by 
horrible dreams. He dreamed of his trek across the chasm. 
Incidents that were forgotten returned. He could feel the bites from 
bugs as he waded through the swamp. He remembered the feeling 
of rot between his naked toes. 
<1st attachment end>


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