Sins of the Fathers, The Thomas Kane Chronicles

By Mel King & Steve Schmidt

Throughout time there has always been a balance. Day and night. Man and Woman. Good and evil. Nature gave mankind the choice of which way he would go. Now, in the guise of religion and at the point of a sword, this balance was taken to the brink of disaster. So much so that one more evil act causing the death of one more innocent person could trigger an evil reign that could bring centuries of war, unrest and terror.
The Inquisitor, standing on a castle balcony nods to the executioner who bows to his master and takes the torch to the stake. He touches off the tinder and the flames begin to lick at the young woman. At that moment a group of men bearing swords and bows arrive on horseback in an effort to rescue her and a battle ensues... Yes, some know what they are fighting and dying for...but there are some who never have any idea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mel King & Steve Schmidt
• Release date: Feb 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466121607

Mel King & Steve Schmidt

Authors Steve Schmidt and Mel King have collaorated in this first book of a trilogy after several years of research and review. Both live in a small town in Florida. Steve's passion for film and Mel's love of the what if factor have combined to produce a fascinating story that might even be true.

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Sins of the Fathers

The Thomas Kane Chronicles

Mel King & Steve Schmidt

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

© 2012 Mel King & Steve Schmidt

PROLOGUE

The great holy books have been guides for generations. Millions, no, billions of people from all walks of life and from every corner of the earth have been influenced by The Holy Bible, The Koran, The Talmud, The works of Confucius, Mohammed and Luther. The overwhelming message from each is peace and brotherhood. There are however, many interpretations of all of these teachings. For centuries many of these interpretations have led to bloodshed. The Crusades, the Witch-hunts, even suicide bombings. Add that to thousands of years of death and hatred in the middle-east and you have a long and graphic example of what can be brought about because of one persons interpretation of any of these books. Of the vast number of people who have died in these examples many of them had an idea of why or what they were dying for.

1485, Spain

In the waning decades of the fifteenth century there is a quiet over the land, but what appears to be peace is really nothing more than order being forced upon the people by religious fanatics who have come to their own interpretation of the Bible. Since the crusades the Papal influence has grown by a staggering measure. Seeing the power wielded by the Popes, others have fallen into line, spreading the Popes version of Christianity. Knowing that Rome is behind them, they rule with a bowed head and an iron fist, and the wrath of reform reignites the Inquisition. All those who do not confess and repent face torture and death. Some fight, some flee, some give in, and some keep their faith and go to the stake believing that the real truth is with them. It is a pivotal time, a time without hero’s, but there are times when the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of regular people, and maybe, just maybe, that is right where it belongs. Extraordinary people are few and far between. They serve their purpose, but the strongest are the ordinary people who stand not for fame and glory, but because it is right to stand, even though others may not know them or even understand them. In that way they are truly extraordinary.

Into a damp dungeon tunnel thick with the smell of blood, a ordinary young woman in chains is led. Although her beauty is remarkable, the two guards give her less than a glance. Although she is innocent of any crime except believing the faith of her family, they treat her as they would a murderer. Halfway through the tunnel they stop. A thick wooden door is opened and she is taken inside a small dark room. As she walks she shudders as she feels large slimy worms under her bare feet. The guard hangs her chain on a hook suspending her hands above her head. In the shadows is another man and as the guard leaves the room she can hear him breathing. Who are you? she pleads, Who’s there? But there is no answer. Another man enters through the doorway and takes a whip from a hook on the wall. He cracks it and the sound is deafening in the little room. Now she realizes that she was not walking on worms, but on the torn chunks of flesh of those who have visited the room before her and shudders anew.

The voice from the shadows speaks. Will you confess? She turns to face the voice. I have done nothing to confess. With that the man in the shadows points to the man with the whip who cracks it again. He then walks up behind her touching her neck gently. She bites her lip but shivers only slightly. He grasps her neck, squeezes it. As he lets go of her he grabs the collar of her dress and rips it off her. Standing there naked she doesn’t make a sound. Knowing what lies before her, she doesn’t move. Again the voice. Will you confess? She looks down at the strips of human flesh put there by in-human minds and a single tear escapes her innocent blue eye. Through tightly gritted teeth she repeats, I have done nothing to confess! The whip cracks again, this time tearing at her back. The whipping continues and crack after crack can be heard throughout the dungeon, but she remains silent. Soon she loses her battle with the pain and passes out, her bloody body hanging limply from the hook. Pleased, the man in the shadows leaves the room. When she begins to regain her senses, she realizes that she has been dressed in a robe and has been tied to a stake.

Throughout time there has always been a balance. Day and night. Man and Woman. Good and evil. Nature gave mankind the choice of which way he would go. Now, in the guise of religion and at the point of a sword, this balance was taken to the brink of disaster. So much so that one more evil act causing the death of one more innocent person could trigger an evil reign that could bring centuries of war, unrest and terror.

The Inquisitor, standing on a castle balcony nods to the executioner who bows to his master and takes the torch to the stake. He touches off the tinder and the flames begin to lick at the young woman. At that moment a group of men bearing swords and bows arrive on horseback in an effort to rescue her and a battle ensues… Yes, some know what they are fighting and dying for…but there are some who never have any idea.

Chapter 1

The sun broke through a large dark cloud and raced through the window of the office of Dr. Tyler Bender, one of New York’s finest and most respected psychiatrists. Dr. Bender sat behind a large glass desk opening the file of his next patient. He liked having a few extra minutes before this particular patients arrival. Tyler Bender had spent the first twenty years of his professional life in private practice, during which time he had acquired millions of dollars, his wife’s dream home, fancy cars, and huge tracts of land in upstate New York. In fact he had gotten everything he had originally set out for except the feeling that he had helped the people who needed him most. So after twenty years, he quit. Well, he quit his private practice and joined the staff at St. Gregory’s Psychiatric Hospital. Here, he felt, he could finally help those people who needed him most. And through the first two years at St. Greg’s, he had had unparalleled success. He was able to convince suicidal patients that the worst thing that can happen to them is to die, so why be in such a hurry? He told them to take some time, see how things go; besides, you are going to die someday anyway, why not try to do something worthwhile before you do. Absolute words of wisdom and not just for those who think dying is a way out. He made great strides with the criminally insane. It is said that he has a calming affect on those who would not be calmed. There have been only two cases where he could find no answers and provide no solace. One case involved a man who was convinced that he was a certain fictional character who was both genius and cannibal. This man has never been anything close to a genius, but he did make good on the cannibal claim by killing five old ladies and devouring large portions of them. He was actually arrested in his backyard grilling a leg of Wanda. Dr. Bender believed then and believes now that the patient was never an actual cannibal any more than he was a genius, but by trying so intensely to prove that he was, he must be insane, schizophrenic or not. That patient is now very happily residing in a maximum security cell very much like the one that held his hero. The other unfortunate mark on the resume of the renowned Dr. Bender is the one who’s file sits open on the glass desk right now. The next patient of the day. The one who happens to be on the way in now. Thomas Kane.

To be fair, Dr. Bender has only had three sessions with Mr. Kane, and the world in general doesn’t know about the difficulties that present themselves, but Dr Bender does. He knows that this could be the one. The one that takes a legendary figure and brings him back down into the ranks of the very good, and lets face it there are tons of very good out there. In every profession. Very good is just about where they forget your name. Very good is a tough place to hang out once you’ve been a legend. But in all honesty Dr. Bender is not thinking about that. No, he only thinks about the welfare of his patients. What he is thinking about is why a man would feel the way Kane does, and how to help him. It was early into their first session that Bender realized that Kane would be his toughest assignment yet. In that first meeting Kane muttered nothing but gibberish that Bender couldn’t understand and occasionally squeezing his eyes tightly closed whispering- I failed…I failed… Just hours before the second session was to begin Kane, in a fit of rage, pounded a hole in his bedroom wall. This action seemed to have set off a neurological breakdown of some kind, because Kane collapsed. Kane was comatose for ten days and after regaining consciousness he was confused and had strange, confused memories. He was recalling things that had never happened. Strangely enough, he had such total recall that he could describe times and places and events as if he were an historian, or someone who had been there. Except for the fact that some of the facts were twisted. The second session was a long and interesting experience for Dr. Bender. He had never seen anyone say things with such honesty and conviction. Conviction, that is, at the beginning of the session. By the end of the session however, he agreed with everyone else that he must be dreaming or have brain damage or a defect of some kind. Perhaps when a person is comatose the brain can mix imagination and fact and then have trouble separating the two, thought Dr. Bender, who was not surprised when Kane changed his view during the session…he was shocked. In his twenty-two years of psychiatry, Bender had never seen nor heard of someone insane try to appear insane. Oh, sane people do it all the time for one reason or another. But this was different, entirely different. To Bender it almost looked as if Kane were willing to be judged insane in an attempt to cover some other behavior. Crazy people don’t do this! Psychiatrists see people everyday who don’t make a lot of sense, but Kane would spend half the day diligently trying to make Bender believe that he had seen or done something completely impossible, then spend the rest of the day trying to convince the doctor that it couldn’t be anything but a dream brought about by what he called one of his ‘seizures‘. Now, the good doctor had seen a lot of story changing and back peddling, but there was something totally different about what was going on with Thomas Kane. Bender really believed that Kane really believed in his odd memories. Kane also believed that he had to keep them a secret because he had been charged with doing some great deeds and nobody was supposed to know about it. The batteries of medical tests showed that Kane’s comas were in every way like everyone else’s. Brain Scans showed that there was a certain amount of damage to the brain every time he had an episode, but the damage cleared itself up within seventy-two hours. Everything about his medical condition was completely real and completely baffling. What’s more, none of what happened to Kane could be caused by any known drug or in any way by himself. Bender was truly at a loss and perhaps that was what made him all the more determined to see this case through to the end. After exhausting his own ideas, Bender picked the brains of colleagues, searching for anything similar that might lead to a breakthrough. He discussed Kane at length with his wife, herself, a medical doctor. Still no one could help, in fact, no one had ever heard of any case or any patient anything like Thomas Kane. At the end of his psychiatric rope, Dr. Bender, Came up with a plan of pure genius in it’s simplicity. Since he knew that Kane was either delusional or was telling the truth, and the possibility that he was telling the truth was non-existent, Bender would listen to Kane’s entire story, point out the inconsistencies and confront him with them. Then Kane would have to deal with his own words not making sense. He would have to either see that what he was saying was not possible and begin his recovery, or he would cross the line and go completely into madness. And madness was something that Dr. Bender could treat. Now was the time to begin, and as Dr. Bender studied Kane’s file, formulating a plan, the office door swung gently open. Bender’s secretary, Angie poked her head in and quietly announced the arrival of the patient.Dr. Bender, Mr. Kane is here.Bender nodded and the door swung fully open. Because they had no idea what actually triggered Kane’s fits or comas, extreme measures were taken to keep him calm, especially on session days. Through the doorway, being pushed by an orderly, came a wheelchair to which Thomas Kane had been strapped. Belts held him around the waist, wrists and ankles. Immobile. Calmly, Kane understood the need and took the immobilization in stride. In fact, when first told about the straps on the chair, he responded by saying good, I don’t want anybody hurt by one of my seizures. Many mental patients, especially the dangerous kind, the kind that need to be strapped down, usually have a crazed or somewhat sinister look to them, mostly in the eyes, thought Bender, but Kane looked as gentle as a kitten. No drool at the corners of his mouth or anything as dramatic as that, only a slight smile as he nodded and greeted the Dr. and said goodbye to Edgar the orderly. Edgar and Angie left the room and the door shut with only a slight click. Kane looked to his right at the window where the sun streaked in just as a cloud cut off the ray and the harsh glare of the sun on the glass gave way to a beautiful view of the New York skyline. Wow whispered Kane.Really something, isn’t it? Said Bender and Kane nodded. How are you today Tom?Kane looked back at the doctor, smiled sheepishly and shook his head. I think I’m okay, but it’s your opinion that counts. Bender studied his patient for a moment. Kane was tall when not strapped down. He had short blond hair and what Bender always thought of as the features of a young member of the British Parliament. Nothing actually seemed to be British about him, except that he somehow had the look of a young European aristocrat. He was slim, square-jawed, and had piercing eyes. He was what the girls used to call handsome, but now called hot, or even worse do-able. The thing that Bender saw most however, was the intelligence behind those eyes. If not for his current problems, Bender thought, Kane might be a colleague. They might be friends going to lunch discussing patients, treatments, or which of the hospital’s nurses might be do-able. Yet here he was strapped to a wheelchair, in many ways a pathetic man. And Dr. Bender wants desperately to help him. To unlock that smart and humorous man inside, the would be friend shackled to seizures, coma’s, and perhaps, madness. He flipped to the last page of Kane’s file, read briefly and closed the folder. We were discussing your thoughts on why you here last week, do you still feel the same way?Do I still feel the same way… Kane repeated quietly, Feelings are emotions…it doesn’t matter how I feel about it. It’s about what’s real and what’s not real. All right, I just wanted to know if you had had any different thoughts since we last spoke, that’s all.Kane smiled and shook his head, No…I…I…haven’t changed my mind about anything.Okay, that’s fine, said Bender, Can we try to go back to the first time you had one of these…episodes? Episodes, Kane smiled, like a weekly T.V. show, huh? Well, Bender interjected, you said other people called them blackouts, and you said you hated that term… Kane laughed softly. Episodes is fine Dr. I’m trying very hard to understand, Tom. Bender leaned forward and there was a true earnestness in his voice. Kane had always liked Dr. Bender, and believed him to be a good and caring man, but something in the way he spoke just now actually made Tom believe that he could be straight with him, tell him everything. And it almost made him believe he could help him. I know…I know…it’s just up to me to make you understand. I’d like that, Tom, said Bender, and he meant it. Kane closed his eyes and put his chin down on his chest. For one terrifying moment it passed through Bender’s mind that Kane was going to have another episode right now. As time stood still for that long moment, Bender’s hand wanted to reach for the phone to get help, then Kane spoke and the Dr. took a long, deep, silent breath and kept his hand where it was. When I was eleven years old. Kane said in something just over a whisper. That was the first one. Do you remember what happened? Bender asked, his hand very much in motion now, taking notes. I remember it all, Kane said, I remember the entire…episode. Bender tried to remain calm, Can you tell me? Kane kept his eyes shut and a slight smile softened his face. He looked like anyone might if they were reminiscing about a family picnic from childhood. I was walking home from school with Suzie Lee. We were very close friends from…we grew up together. I was as much in love with her as an eleven year old can be…and she felt the same way about me. Kane stopped and thought for a moment. At least until that day. Again he stopped talking, now only remembering. Bender tried to keep him calm. You okay, Tom…Hmm? Kane opened his eyes and looked from Bender to the floor. Yeah, I’m all right. He blinked his eyes several times in rapid succession, took a deep breath and blew it out quickly. Anyway, we were walking along Field St., a long stretch of nothingness, but a good shortcut, talking about Mr. B’s math class and these high school dropout punks come out of the trees smoking and cussing.

Young Kane and Suzie Lee are walking along the remote road, too busy with each other to pay attention to anything else; they stroll past a place that everybody called the pipe. The street crossed over a drainage pipe that you could drive a small car through. Trees and weeds grew up all around the spot where the guardrail was supposed to keep cars from going down into the creek. But everyone who passed the spot always thought about what happened to Al Speers and his girlfriend Connie Miller, and that night in ‘68 when Al swerved to avoid a drunk driver. He overcorrected and came all the way back across his lane right through the guardrail. Al died as soon as the car nosed into the creek-bed. Connie still lives two streets down at her parents house, confined to bed. Strange though, when anyone passes the guardrail now, they don’t think about the accident or Al with the steering column sticking out of his back or the shattered and brain-damaged Connie lying in her parents house up on Fuller avenue. They invariably think of the guardrail, they look at it and think to themselves, there is the new guardrail, as if it’s some kind of marker. And fifty years from now they will still think of it as the new guardrail. That is unless some drunk makes somebody else drive through the one on the other side, where right now a tall punk with a blue shirt hanging out of his jeans and an Alfalfa hair problem stepped in front of Kane and Suzie. They stopped and looked up at him thinking that ones life must be a complete zero if all one had to live for was harassing kids a lot younger and smaller than you. Kane heard the two other losers step up behind them and a small squirt of fear hit his mind, not for himself, but fear for Suzie. Kane loved everything about Suzie. He wanted to hold her hand and watch her smile and lose himself in her eyes. They only wanted to take what he was willing to wait a lifetime for. Hey guys, Kane said hopefully, what’s up? Alfalfa blew blue smoke into Kane’s face, flicked his butt over the new guardrail and pulled a pack of Kent Golden Lights out of his shirt pocket. He tapped the pack until one stuck out far enough to grab with his mouth, and then wiggled the cigarette in his teeth. All the time raising his eyebrows in what he thought was a cool expression. The punk behind Kane on the left tossed Alfalfa a lighter like he had never seen before. It was a metal tube that Kane first thought was a lipstick case. Then Alfalfa pulled the two ends apart about a half an inch and in the middle was a small round hole with fire in it. Alfalfa lit his ‘Golden Light’, snapped the lighter shut and blew more smoke in Kane’s face. How’s it hanging, candy Kane? Alfalfa speaks! Great…how about you guys? Kane looks around trying to be one of the guys. Alfalfa flips the lighter back to goon number two, looks at Suzie and winks at Kane. So you gonna get some of that candy, candy? Kane’s brain takes another squirt of fear. Come on guys, we’re just going home. Suzie’s mom is waiting for her. Sweat is breaking out on his forehead, his ears burn. Suzie is dead still and even quieter. Alfalfa picks up an empty beer can that was lying beside the road, one he probably drank himself and looks at it thoughtfully. Kane thinks that Alf will figure out what it is if he tries real hard, of course he says nothing. I’ll tell you what, candy, Alfalfa says as he puts the beer can on Kane’s head. If you can keep this on your head for one minute we will leave you and your little piece of ass alone…but, if it falls off before the minute is up…I get to punch you, ‘kay? Kane stands statue still. He can balance that can up there until his beard hits his shoes for Suzie. Alfalfa reaches out and hits Kane in the arm. The can falls off and Kane takes one to the gut. Now his mind is reeling from the pain in his stomach, worrying about Suzie, and the fear now being fire-hosed into his brain. Ah too bad, candy, you stink! Alfalfa laughs as he picks the can back up. The other punks are having a good chuckle over this as well and now Suzie is starting to shake. Leave him alone!, she shouts. Alfalfa glares at her, then grunts at punk number three. If she makes one more sound, throw her down the hill. He looks at the beer can again. It really doesn’t look that hard, candy. Lets try it again. Kane straightens, still holding his stomach, trying to keep in the vomit that so desperately wants out. The can is once again on his head. Now listen, candy, this one is for all the marbles. If you make it the full minute this time, you girls are on your way. He puffs his smoke. If not, I beat the shit out of you and we take little Suzie-Q down to the pipe and make a woman out of her. Everyone in a punk state of mind laughs at the prospect of taking Suzie below for some pipe fitting of his own. From somewhere in his brain, Kane heard the snickering from behind him and wondered where the shove would come from this time. Suzie cried silently, but Kane heard her sniffling. His mind was racing and frightened, but knew exactly what it was going to make his body do before the thought became a conscious one. As Alfalfa made a fist, Kane struck like a cobra. His own fist coming from way down at his side all the way up to Alf’s nose so quickly that Alf didn’t know what had happened until he tasted his own blood. He rocked back and Kane pushed him until he hit the ground. Run! he yelled at Suzie, who stood motionless. Run Suzie! Suzie snapped out of it at the same time as punk number three. As she broke into a run his arms encircled her waist. Alfalfa lay on the ground, bleeding, with Kane on top of him, still swinging.

Punk number two finally reacted and grabbed Kane by the ankles dragging him off of Alfalfa, who jumped to his feet. Take her down the hill! He snarled. Punk number three put his filthy hand over her pretty mouth and Kane let out a soft groan. The punk dragged Suzie into the trees next to the new guardrail and down the hill to the pipe. Suzie might have dreamed many times of going down to the pipe to make out with Kane, but this never even happened in her worst nightmare. Alfalfa kicked Kane in the stomach and this time he had no control over the vomit that spewed out of his mouth and onto Alfalfa’s leg, making him even angrier. You little piece of shit! He screamed and kicked again, this time at Kane’s face. At impact Kane thought that his eye was gone. How you doin now, candy ass…you didn’t pass hero class, did you? Alfalfa looked into the trees and saw Suzie struggling as she was pulled down the hill. Alf turned to punk number two, pick him up. The punk grabbed Kane under his arms and pulled him up. Alf punched the helpless boy square on the jaw and Kane actually saw stars. You gonna puke on me some more? He hit him again. Then Alf got close to Kane and said softly, Just remember something, candy ass. No matter what happens to your girlfriend, she’s not nearly as fucked as you are! With that he pounded Kane into a puddle at his feet. Kane lay there hurting and bleeding, but not moving. He knew that if he fought it would prolong the beating he was taking, and if he died or was knocked out, Suzie didn’t have a chance. Alfalfa stood over him, silently gloating. Nice fight candy ass , He then spat a large glob of his nose blood onto Kane’s head. He then turned toward the woods and grabbed his partner in crime by the shoulder. Come on, lets go get some Suzie-Q!

Kane waited until they were well down the hill before he even tried to move. It was difficult to do anything, even breathe. He realized that some ribs were messed up, that his nose was shattered, and that there was what he believed to be a tooth rattling around in his mouth. He got himself to his knees and looked around for something he could use to dent Alfalfa’s skull with. He saw nothing but his book-bag, so he picked it up and set it in the middle of the road. Suzie screamed and Kane got moving. He heard a slap and she cried out in pain. He looked again for a weapon then heard Suzie’s blouse tear. Without another thought, Kane charged at them, angry. Angrier than he had ever been in his life. Angry to the point of madness. He ran so fast that he surprised the bullies who stood there looking shocked. As Kane closed in he yelled like a warrior into battle, pulled back his fist and swung with all his might. All the fury in the world was in that fist as it swung toward the ugly, bloody, shocked face of that nasty Alfalfa looking son-of-a-bitch. And then there was no one there. Kane swung, hit nothing and rolled to the soft ground. He sat up, confused, looked around and didn’t recognize anything. Getting up, he checked out the area hoping no one would say anything to him. From a bench across a green expanse of lawn he saw lady wave at him. He waved back and shrugged her off as a friendly woman too far away to bother him. Somewhere…way in the back of his mind he was sure that he was dreaming all of this. That one of Alfalfa’s boots on his skull had caused him to go into a coma or something like that. None of this could possibly be real, it was one of those things that you see on T.V. or in the movies, one of those things that never happens to real people, one of those things that, however he was experiencing it, he was by gosh going to enjoy. To his left, near where the lawn gave way to a wooded area, he saw a flash, brightness, movement, all out of the corner of his eye. At first he thought it was just his imagination, but then figured that his imagination may be the only reason he is here at all, so what the heck, lets go have a look. As he approached the woods, he heard the voice of a little girl Timmy! she cried, but now he could only see trees. Tom looked around. The woman on the bench stood and looked around. Timmy! she called, Where is Sara? Tom looked from the lady to the trees and back. Timmy!, the little girl called again. Tom’s mind was spinning. I know they are talking to me, he said, aloud, but why are they calling me Timmy? He could see the lady panicking and running towards the trees shouting for Sara, so he decided to have his own look-see. As he started into the woods he saw the man. He was holding a little girl and Tom knew she was Sara, not because the lady was calling her name, but because he just knew, like he knew he loved Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as much as life itself. He also felt fear and anger because he knew that Sara was very important to him. Tom looked back once more and saw the lady screaming and running. He looked back down the hill and saw the man holding Sara and felt the same anger he felt when Alfalfa was holding Suzie. Down he went, without a clue as to what he would do when he got there. He gathered speed and dove at the man, who was big and bear-like and just swatted Tom away like a fly. Something in his shoulder cracked as Tom hit the tree, but put it out of his mind because now Sara was screaming in absolute terror. As the stranger struggled to keep his grip on her wriggling body, Tom stood and picked up the biggest rock he could find. Lifting it as high as he could Tom brought the rock down on the back of the mans head. The big old, child molesting creep went down fast. Tom never knew it, but the man never moved again. Tom picked up Sara and she held him tight, sobbing on his sore shoulder. The lady came running down the hill calling their names. Sara kissed Tom on the cheek and let go of him, running to her mother. Mommy! Cried Sara jubilantly. Tom watched them embrace with tears streaming down their faces and he smiled. Then he looked back at the child molesting creep. He walked up to him wanting to kick him in the face, just like Alfalfa did to him. He drew back his foot and with all the rage he could muster, he kicked… But he hit nothing and fell to the ground. Out cold. Suzie shook Tom, trying to wake him up. A police officer came down the hill. What happened?, he asked. He fell down the hill, sir, and I cant wake him up. said Suzie, genuinely worried about Tom. The officer picked him up and carried him up to the cruiser. Suzie followed, asking if he was going to be okay. At the top of the hill the officer put Tom in the back of the car. Is this stuff yours?, he motioned to the book bags sitting neatly by the side of the road. Suzie nodded yes. "Well it’s a good thing they were there or I never would have stopped. The officer put the book bags in the car and Suzie thought about how Tom had put his bag just so when he went to look at the pipe. He had fallen down the hill, slamming his shoulder onto a rock. She held his head on her lap, stroking his hair. Other than the rip in his shirt and the dislocated shoulder, there was not a mark on him.

Chapter 2

So I’m pretty crazy, huh, doc? Kane said with a sad smile. Oh, I don’t know. said a thoughtful Bender, What do you think really happened, do you think you went through some worm hole or a time warp or something…in order to save another little girl that was like Suzie? The doctors plan was now in affect. Let Kane tell the story and then have him explain what it means.

I thought I told the stories and you gave the answers. Bender’s eyes widened for just a moment thinking that Kane was just reading his mind, but after another moment of thought, he realized that it was something Kane would always say at that point. Tom, I need to know what you think and feel about every episode or anything else you can remember about anything even remotely tied to these episodes. Your thoughts and feelings about these events and what led to the events may be more important than the episodes themselves. Kane looked at Bender, thinking hard. What you are saying is… Tom wait, Bender interrupted. …don’t draw conclusions. That is the part of the job you want me to do. He put his note pad down and played with his pencil, then got up and walked to Kane and bent down to him. Listen to me, Tom, whether it was a dream or a hallucination doesn’t make any difference right now. What is important is that we find out what triggers it. So you think it was a dream? Kane asked calmly, knowing full well it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. ‘IT WASN’T A DREAM’, he thought loudly. Bender leaned back against the heavy glass desk and spoke like he was telling a friend some bad news and didn’t know how to say it. Tom, you said Suzie was in danger, you blacked out and while you were out you saved another little girl. You even got the same injury in the episode that you got in real life. Don’t you think one of these events could trigger the other? But doc, they told me…Suzie herself told me that she was never in danger, that there were no punks…so where would that dream come from? Bender put his hand on Kane’s shoulder. "That’s why we’re