Moon over Seaville: Episode 4: The End?

By Dr. Leighton J. Reynolds

A Wildfire Story

The quiet, suburban community of Seaville, California, is embroiled in too many issues and too many struggles as the entire valley surrounding the city becom

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781953699930

Dr. Leighton J. Reynolds

Leighton J Reynolds has a multidisciplinary doctorate in Psychoanalytic Studies (Psychoanalysis, Neuroscience, and Psychology), and he is a Certified Psychoanalyst. He lives and works in Southern California in the heart of wildfire country.

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Copyright © 2021 by Dr. Leighton J. Reynolds.

ISBN 978-1-953699-92-3 (softcover)

ISBN 978-1-953699-93-0 (ebook)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America.

Book Vine Press

2516 Highland Dr.

Palatine, IL 60067

This is the fourth and final novel in The Seaville Wildfire Trilogy. I am dedicating this novel to two of my most beloved patients who recently passed away. Mr. Steve Greisman in 2013. And Mr. Jeff Taibi in 2014. I miss them both very much! And I am dedicating this final novel in the series to my Mother, Virginia May Reynolds, who passed away the day after Thanksgiving 2016. All three were big fans of the series, and I am saddened that none of them got to read the final chapter in the story. Each of them contributed to making our planet a better place while they were alive, and I am grateful for these three wonderful connections!

Contents

PART I

PART II

Part III

PART IV

PART V

PART VI

PART VII

PART VIII

PART IX

PART X

PART XI

PART XII

PART XIII

PART XIV

PART XV

PART XVI

PART XVII

PART XVIII

PART XIX

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am very grateful for all the support and feedback I have gotten from family, friends, and readers since I first published From The Other Side Of The Moon back in 2010. All of you have helped me keep the faith with the series and encouraged me to keep thinking and writing. My hope is that you will find this novel the best one yet!

And a very big thank you to Jay Williams, Eloise Narvasa, and all the staff at Book Vine Press for making this project happen!! You guys are doing it right and for that I am very grateful!

Finally, a very special thank you to Hope Krasner for her outstanding job of editing the entire series. This was a huge undertaking, and she has done an excellent job editing all this material!

AUTHOR’S NOTE ABOUT THE TRILOGY

When I first began writing this series, I had a one book, one theme, idea: what was, or were, the causes of wildfires in Southern California, and worldwide?

Little did I know then where this story would take me, and where it would end up. Four novels from my original idea, the story has grown to three simultaneous locations in the US, and had merged into a story of the universal drama of human drives toward sexuality and life, and the opposing human drives toward aggression, destruction and death. As my writing continued, I began to see these same opposing forces at work in Nature as well. How can this not be a huge factor in our entire Universe?

As the story developed, I came to understand that fire and wildfires are the perfect metaphor for the continued presence of these opposing forces on Planet Earth. Fire is both life-giving (it heats our homes and cooks our food), and at the same time is quite capable of destroying an entire community.

In the beginning, I did not understand that fire starters (labelled arsonists or pyromaniacs) were most often the victims of sexual abuse. Starting fires was a means of discharging their rage over this fact, much like a serial killer releases their tensions by killing people. Sadly, there is very little professional information on this subject. Because arson is a crime, and the person is quickly locked up with no opportunity for any treatment of the trauma in their background. In the whole of the psychoanalytic literature that I reviewed, going back a century, I found only 33 articles as of 2011.

At the end of this story, I found myself asking the question: is there ever a conclusion to anything. After all, the Universe is always in motion and so are we right up until our death. I have always found endings to be difficult, and this was an entire series that needed a conclusion. The reader can be the judge of how well I have done. In the end, I could not let go of any of the wonderful characters who appeared on these pages and told us a story. Rest assured, there is more coming in The Outlaw Chronicles!

PART I

THE CONVERSATION

(SEAVILLE, CALIFORNIA)

It was the month of October when…

You mean last October?

Yes, last October, it goes back that far.

When what happened?

When this entire mess began.

What mess are we talking about? It’s April now for God’s sake!

The largest firestorm in US history.

It started last October?

No, the firestorm probably started sometime last evening, and it’s still happening. As a matter of fact, this firestorm is rapidly taking over the entire Seaville Valley. It’s a big fucking deal, and nothing’s being spared.

What does this have to do with last October?

Your arsonist is still out there somewhere, get it now?

Oh, and you think she had something to do with this firestorm thing?

I’ll bet money in Las Vegas that she did.

What makes you so sure?

One of the drones spotted her pick-up truck out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, not far from the location of the firestorm.

Coincidence?

Not with her!

So, what are you recommending?

She has to go. Way too much of a liability. Just look at the pictures. That is one, big, fucking monster out there. She has to go now!

Alright, then send someone out there.

"Okay!’

Too bad, I kind of liked her.

I thought you always said there was nothing personal there.

Doesn’t mean that I could overlook the fact that she was a hot woman!

Well, it’s all a mute-point now…

"Yeah, send two men by the way. We can’t afford to take any chances.

She knows way too much…"

Are you sure you weren’t fucking her?

A lingering silence…

What the hell is going on out there?

The right environmental conditions got mixed up with the right mindset.

How does that work, mind and environment? How is that even possible?

The universe is all interconnected, Sir. Mind and matter are really variations of same thing.

So, this is kind of like a Perfect Storm?

Yeah, something like that.

Is this anything that threatens our interests?

As a matter of fact, yes. All our interests are being threatened.

Right, now?

Right, now!

And the reason for all this mess?

I don’t know.

And when will you know?

When we locate Sterling.

Who is this guy again?

Well…

By the way, what exactly is a firestorm anyway?

Glad you asked, it’s complicated.

Complicated like how?

Hold on a second, we better talk about Sterling first.

And why is this guy important, again?

He has the notebook?

Are you sure?

Either he has it, or one of his kids has it.

One of his kids? How many kids does he have?

Two, a boy and a girl.

I thought we had them in our custody?

We did. We had them in our custody twice before.

Really, and the children escaped both times?

Yes, and they’re with their father now.

How old are these kids?

A girl five years old, and a boy nine years old.

Let me get this straight: two elementary age kids escaped from our adult staff, on two separate occasions, on their own, with no adult assistance?

Yes Sir, that’s correct.

Really! Then what’s the plan from here, besides eliminating certain staff members?

We’re sending in two strikes: one drone and one helicopter.

Without blowing up the briefcase?

Without blowing up the briefcase, Sir.

We can disable Sterling’s car from the air. The rest will be easy, and then we kill the three of them.

I guess that takes care of that…

What about Big Bad Bob?

We have his girlfriend in our custody.

As bait?

Yes, as bait. He will be coming for her…

I want my seven million back before the sun goes down.

We’ll have your seven million back to you within a few hours.

You know how I hate losing money…

We know that, Sir.

And the status of this firestorm?

Out of control Sir, totally out of control!

And by the way, Sir. It’s Dr. Roger Sterling. And thus far, he has fucked up everything!

Then we get rid of him, right?

Right on…

Yes, it was true, all too true, that there was a certain sound out there in the desert echoing, quietly, strangely, methodically, and not ironically right on schedule at every five seconds. It was the sound of something, somewhere ticking merrily along on its way to somewhere, some destination, some event, some happening, some something. But at the same time, it was a sound that truly no one heard. That unfortunately no one was hearing.

And then there was the problem that Lenny wasn’t dead. Well, he really was dead, dead, but at the same time he wasn’t dead. A rather confusing turn of events. True, Roger had caught him off-guard in a fit of his own rage that had blinded him, and then Roger had easily finished off the veteran, professional Hit Man. But that didn’t mean that Lenny was finished forever. No, not a man of his professional background and stature. No sir, he was not a man who would go down easily if at all. No indeed, true professional that he was, he wasn’t done yet. He had, in fact, gone for one more go-around, one more opportunity to take it all, to unleash the maximum amount of destruction possible in the Seaville Valley. And the sound of that destruction, that something, somewhere…was ticking away ever so softly, but with a definite agenda, across the smoke-filled landscape…

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

And oh yes, it was ticking along right on schedule…making the Seaville Valley even more of a time-bomb!

As it turns out, a wildfire is not just a wildfire. Like everything else on planet Earth, a wildfire always has a context. In this case, the context of this unusual wildfire was the community of Seaville, CA, just north of Los Angeles, 20 miles inland from the Pacific Ocean. The valley that surrounded this suburban community of approximately 100,000 people was composed of high desert terrain rung by mountains on all sides. No matter what the season, the mountains standing against the blue sky, or even a cloudy sky, were always majestic and picturesque. On most days, the valley had a quiet feel to it, but not anymore. Because of the interaction of Man and Nature, the valley had become, in about 12 hours, in the middle of the month of April, a devouring inferno of fire, thick black smoke, and debris swirling everywhere in the valley. All of this was brought on by a deadly combination of drought, heat from the unusually hot weather, high winds being sucked into the valley because of a dual Jet Stream and the destructive elements of the human mind/brain. But more to the point, this was an interactive event. Two wildfires, the work of a serial arsonist and a homeless psychotic man, had intersected into a huge firestorm, the largest ever in US history, and that firestorm was now threatening to devour the entire Seaville Valley. At the very same time the community of Seaville, CA—the men, women, and children, their values, their ideas and ideals, their feeling states, all their interactions, and their dreams—were directly and indirectly influencing the course and the outcome of the wildfires, and the huge firestorm that had been generated out of the wildfires. Hence the dangerous interaction!

And digging even deeper into this story, what was at the foundation of all this chaos were the two great drive states in Mother Nature and in Human Nature: Eros and Thanatos, life and death, sex and aggression. And all of this was perfectly represented by fire because fire is both life-giving, it provides warmth and helps us cook our food, and at the same time it is destructive, because it had the potential to destroy the entire community of Seaville, CA by burning it straight into the ground. This was destruction on a scale unimaginable to most folks in the community. But indeed, this is exactly what was happening: the entire community was in imminent danger of literally going up in smoke. Never mind what Lenny the Hit Man had in store for Seaville.

The way Roger was thinking about it, Seaville the city, the community, the people, the valley, the culture—all added up to being Aginsky’s Seaville. It was exactly the way Burt said it would be: energy was continually evolving through the culture of the community, and all events happening in Seaville were the result, directly or indirectly, of the cumulation of everything that had gone on before. Explained this way: all the current events in the City of Seaville had antecedents in their past, they were not something that came straight out of the blue. The point was, Seaville’s past, much of it unknown to current residents, had somehow, Roger was not exactly sure how, lead to the present, incredibly dangerous circumstances, all of them clearly in front of him right now. No, he wasn’t looking for some bullshit, surface, pop culture answer. No, he was looking for something a lot more real, a lot more genuine. Under the guise of be careful what you wish for, Roger was about to find out all about the how’s and why’s that were literally bringing Seaville to its knees.

Moving diagonally across the Seaville Valley from southeast to northwest, and zeroing in on the progress of the huge firestorm situated about 15 miles northwest of the city, there was a point of no return coming up that hinged on the fate of 19 men. Their skills, their experience, and their courage were all that stood between containment of the firestorm, and its march directly into the City of Seaville. Literally thousands of lives were at stake…

Right up to this very moment the 19 men stranded on the ridge, 18 fire fighters and 1 volunteer had been able to hold on, but very precariously. That flexible fact, however, was about to change, about to change because Mother Nature had her own agenda. And this agenda was not necessarily favorable to human beings. Which then begged the question: exactly what was that agenda, and exactly how would this effect the entire community of Seaville, California? The position the men were holding on the ridge was beyond the horizon of downtown Seaville, but the huge plumes of black smoke bellowing off the ridge was not. Below the ridge was a two-lane highway leading out of the valley toward the ocean, which was about 20 miles west of the Seaville Valley. Thirty minutes ago, the crucial decision had been made. And the decision that came down from Incident Command was to make a stand here on this ridge, right now, to prevent the wildfire from turning itself loose and running straight down the western edge of the valley right into the city.

Mr. Tibbets, that would be a total disaster, and we can’t let that happen. So, we’re sending you right there, on that ridge. And that’s where you’ll dig the fire line, right at that spot. At the very least, this was a tall order for any firefighting crew.

The Foreman, Mr. Tibbets, had his orders from Incident Command and he had relayed that information to his Crew Chief, Mr. Small, who in turn shared the info with his crew. But I need to tell you boys, this just doesn’t look good. In fact, it looks damn dangerous. Those slopes surrounding the ridge…the fuel load looks way too heavy for us.

Over the past almost 24 hours, the delicate balance of Nature in the Seaville Valley had been upset partly by design, and partly by accident. The design part had to do with fire and wildfires as an integral part of the natural order of things on Planet Earth. Wildfires were a consistent piece of the natural evolution of certain ecologies in the Seaville Valley, as they had been for hundreds of years, because a specific amount of heat was necessary to release certain seeds that had been dormant in the valley for probably 50 years. It was a natural rhythm of nature that was at stake here, if there were no wildfires. But there was more to think about: at the same time these wildfires were burning through the landscape, they were at the same time burning right through the very fabric of the culture holding Seaville in place. The wildfires were in effect headed to exactly this place: a physical place, the burning down of Seaville, and quite possibly with it a metaphorical place, the burning up of a culture, a way of life, that had quietly become more destructive than life-giving. The destructive elements working within the culture of the Seaville Valley had suddenly become, with the advent of the Firestorm, working elements that were destructive to the entire culture. It was all under the radar, until now. Until the largest Firestorm ever recorded in the US, had begun to unravel things and suck the life out of the Seaville Valley. It was indeed a Perfect Storm, both environmentally and culturally. And it was all happening far too quickly.

The accidental part was really known to only two people, Irene, a serial arsonist for hire, and Dingo, a homeless man who struggled almost daily with psychosis. For about an hour during the previous night, they had been a team, temporarily. Dingo had the grandiose, psychotic idea that he could burn out the persons who had kidnapped Dr. Sterling’s children, from the mountainous areas surrounding the doctor’s new residence. Mired in his own psychotic delusions, he was sure the kidnappers had gone up there and that they could be burned out quite easily. It was mostly the element of surprise that would work he had told Dr. Sterling around 9pm on the previous evening. Irene, on the other hand, feeling the world through her own unfortunate traumas, was working for a cause, killing her father for what he had done to her and her sister, Darlene. Hardly a person of interest in the community, Irene was, shockingly, an arsonist for hire who had made a dangerous deal the previous fall: setting fires around the Seaville Valley in exchange for the cover necessary to do in her own very abusive father. Somewhere around midnight of the previous night, however, everything had begun to spiral out of control for Irene. Acting out her continuous rage at being violated so many times, Irene, had set not one wildfire as planned, but two wildfires that had rapidly intersected due to the high winds suddenly blowing in from the mountains surrounding the valley. A few hours later the largest firestorm ever experienced in the US had begun to take shape.

On that night, the conditions were just perfect for such an awesome event, an event that literally showcased Mother Nature’s incredible power. But now 19 men were about to pay the price for the fury of a woman scorned way too many times, and the fury of our very own Mother Nature gone wild, perhaps a kind of revenge done in her own style?

For his part, Dingo, temporarily living out his own delusions of grandeur, had gotten scared of what was about to happen, and run off into the night never to be seen again, well maybe. It was possible that he was still around, but no one knew that for sure except for the Colonel. Colonel Shevick, a man who had his own hands full with all his carefully crafted plans having gone totally amuck within the past several hours.

But what was most imminent in this chain of events, both physical and social, was The Ridge. And by proxy, the 19 men who found themselves stranded up there. The ridge, about a half-mile long, was covered with highly flammable Chaparral bushes, thick, heavy, black smoke and 30 foot flames that were slowly but surely working their way toward devouring the ridge the 19 men had managed to hold on to for the past 90 minutes. A very dangerous place for any fire-fighter. No one, however, expected a flash fire, not out here in the desert, on a ridge in the middle of nowhere that was important to anyone, until now.

Boom! A huge chain of flames suddenly burst across the southern tip of the ridge.

Despite the winds, and the roar of the fire, the eerie sound of a flash fire echoed across the ridge straight through the hearts of the men there, their courage bent sideways in the process. They all knew instantly what that sound was, and what it meant. It’s just that they really didn’t want to know what it really was, and what it really meant. It was, right in line with Mother Nature’s plan, the specter of death exploding across the ridge with incredible force!

Shit, what the hell is that? Big Jim looked up from the huge fire hose he was attaching to his water truck. This was a smaller sized water tanker truck he had voluntarily brought up on the ridge, at the request of the Foreman, to support the men. And having concluded just a few minutes earlier that this was now their only hope, he was working as rapidly as he could to hook up everything, just right. There was no room for a single error, none, zip, zero, absolutely none! And no room for any other of Nature’s threatening event, either!

No, don’t tell me, because I really, really don’t want to know. That’s a flash fire on the western edge of the ridge, isn’t it? And it’s coming our way!

Big Jim hadn’t been panicking before this moment, but he was now!

Instantly, a series of panic points ran through his mind/brain.

We have seconds to respond…My idea…is it going to work?

Damn it, I really don’t know!

Organization, you bet, we work together.

The roar of the wildfire surrounding the men was like the sound of a closeup freight train, deafening. And with the closeness of that sound came a stark reality: it was all coming down to a certain focal point, on an obscure ridge northwest of the City of Seaville, in the foothills leading up to the picturesque mountain range that surrounded a once beautiful valley that was rapidly on its way to being charred beyond recognition. The 19 men had gotten themselves caught up in a fire trap, the result of their own senseless arguing having distracted them from the approaching danger they were in. And the icing on the cake, a flash fire exploding across the ridge. It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was now a case of D & D, danger and doom. Hard to imagine, but this cocktail of Nature was threatening to burn down the entire City of Seaville, everything around it, and everyone in it. And the only thing that stood in Mother Nature’s way, were 19 men on the verge of collapse.

It was here, at this focal point on the ridge, that Mother Nature had quietly and methodically, like she was a real person, arranged all this! But then, who was Mother Nature, really? Was it true that she was a person or the personification of a person? Or, was she a spirit that roamed and pervaded the planet? Was she a metaphor for something that existed on the planet but in a different way, not a physical embodiment but a product of the human mind/brain? Then again, Mother Nature could quite possibly be all these things!

The problem for the 19 men, still alive but unconsciously counting down the seconds to their own deaths, was the fact that they were at this focal point of the raging wildfires in the Seaville Valley. What had been building slowly around the men, slowly and subtly at first like all the complexities of Nature, became that place, that focal point where the elements of Nature suddenly became incredibly complicated. A flash fire is a rapidly moving flame front, which can become, under the right circumstances, a combustible explosion of fire. A flash fire usually occurs where the right fuel, in this the case the heavy fuel growing on the steep hillsides on both sides of the ridge and spilling over the top of the ridge, and air, become mixed in just the right concentrations to cause combustion. At that point, the heat flux is usually approximately: 84 kW/m2 for a relatively short time, typically less than three seconds, but just enough time and just enough ingredients to cause an explosion of flames. In summary, a flash fire was an extremely dangerous place to be.

And as a result, the flames from the wildfire surrounding the ridge were now spreading at a subsonic velocity, with the bulk of the damage threatening to occur from the thermal radiation generated, and from the secondary fires that were likely to be spawned. If inhaled, the heat from the flash fire would probably cause serious lung damage to the men, and quite possibly death to all of them through asphyxiation.

It was all coming down to a matter of seconds, separating the 19 men from life or death. But it wasn’t until the boom that the men realized their real predicament, the incredibly imminent danger they were all in. Already feeling desperate, Big Jim had been quietly formulating a plan to save the other 18 men, and himself. His plan, well, it required organization and cooperation among the fire fighters. But seconds were ticking away with no cooperation between the men anywhere in sight. And now surrounding the men, the roar of the wildfire was drowning out everything…

Ticking…

Ticking…

Ticking…

Ticking…

Where is Daniel? But all Big Jim’s voice did was drift away in the roar of the wildfire. The damn Flash Fire is coming right at us!

Fighting every second of his own panic, he tried something else. Jerry! Jerry! Jerry! But who is going to listen to Jerry…

Shit, we have to get the men organized. We need to form a circle around the water truck, and then throw shovelfuls of dirt up into the air, up high, as high as they can throw the dirt. Then I’m going to start spraying the dirt turning it into mud, and neutralizing the fire. All the while Big Jim knew he was simply talking to himself, the roar of the wildfire only continuing to build as it moved closer to surrounding the 19 men. His plan was pure genius, but he hadn’t figured in the flash fire.

Seconds continued to tick away as the huge ball of fire kept to its path moving straight down the length of the ridge the men had been holding.

Seconds…

Ticking away…

Ticking away…

Big Jim was yelling into the wind, again. Throw the dirt higher, higher…

All the while seconds were moving methodically forward through the Universe, oblivious to the men and the danger they were in.

How much water do I have left? Whatever the amount, I don’t think it’s going to be enough.

More mud, more mud!

Faster! Faster!

Daniel, the one person who perhaps could have bridged the gap between the two groups of men fighting within the department, those who had been corrupted, and those who had not been corrupted, was lying on the ground in the middle of the ridge, immobilized by his burns, from saving Jerry’s ass. That left good, old Jerry, disgruntled and forced into an early retirement, and just a few hours ago, an arsonist himself, to organize the men. Fat chance! Well, really no chance. No, Jerry was not the answer. Big Jim was going to have to step up himself as he had never done before!

Shit, what happened to the Crew Chief here?

But somehow, Jerry had figured out what Big Jim was planning and he had already begun organizing the men.

Jesus, this is fucking amazing! Of all people to get the guys organized, Jerry? The old coot has more on the ball than I thought.

It was all happening so fast that it was difficult to conceptualize exactly what was happening, and take any life-saving action. The flash fire had resulted in an additional blow-up of the fire surrounding the men, making the situation even more treacherous. Meanwhile, the fire was literally rolling toward them in a huge, fiery ball, like something right out of a flame-thrower. At the same time shovelfuls of dirt was flying in the air from the circle the firemen had formed around Big Jim’s water truck. For his part, Big Jim had managed to hook up his larger hose, which in turn allowed him to spray more water. He was making a 360 from atop the water tank, as he sprayed the dirt turning it into mud and in effect neutralizing the flames surrounding the men. The mud in the air had the effect of slowing down the flames approaching the men. The question was: how long could they last? Would they run out of water before the flames died down?

"Guys, more dirt, more dirt, we have to have more dirt! Faster! Faster! Big Jim’s voice was getting hoarser by the second, 15 seconds later his voice simply quit…

Sixteen seconds later Mother Nature gave it her last shot: the fire ball created by the flash fire rolled straight into the dirt, water, and the man-made mud. The moment of truth had finally come…

Match this ticking away of seconds with what Lenny had left behind, and now you have, oh my, a Perfect Storm on steroids!

While the 19 men were struggling to survive on the ridge, there was much that was happening elsewhere in the Seaville Valley and as far away as New York and Tennessee. Oddly enough though, these other events were interconnected. But how could that be? What could the specific connections be that wove these, on the surface, unrelated events together? Could it be by synchronicity? But then, what exactly was being synchronized? Was it synchronicity as in working together, in harmony, fitting together, responding together, all reasonable definitions? No, it was something else entirely different. Synchronicity, a term brought to our attention by Carl Jung, referred to: a grouping of events that were not explained by any concrete sense of cause and effect. Rather, these events were connected by their meaning. The specific events taking place in the Seaville Valley, up the Hudson River Valley, and in Central Tennessee were acausal, they were connected but they were not the cause of each other. In other words, synchronicity was a causal connecting principle. The relationships between these, on the surface, unrelated events in California, New York, and Tennessee were manifesting themselves as occurrences that were meaningfully related, not causally related.

Once again, searching even deeper into life on our planet, synchronicity reveals an underlying pattern, an order of life that is larger than the specific system displaying the synchronicity. For Carl Jung, our life here on Planet Earth was not just a series of random events, but far more the expression of a deeper order. Ah, but what was that deeper order, and what guided its movements? And what was going to happen to the community of Seaville, California that was so interconnected with equally meaningful events in the Hudson River Valley, and deep in a forest in Central Tennessee…

Elsewhere in the Seaville Valley, things were just as bleak, but not quite so imminent, for now. The Time was 11pm, on a Thursday evening.

Dr. Roger Sterling’s mind was drifting again, heading outside the Mustang GT 500 Super Snake, into the pitch black darkness they were traveling through at over 100 miles per hour, back up over the mountain pass they had just crossed, down through all the powerful wind gusts, the windblown debris, the thick, black smoke, the huge flames that were still everywhere, the plumes of orange and gray smoke dotting the landscape, the lack of light anywhere, everything they had gone through to get here…back, back, back into the Seaville Valley to those moments when he finally found his children.

Abby, it’s your Daddy! Silence…

Oh no, she’s worse off than I thought.

Their conversation was playing through his mind.

Abby…Abby…, can you give the phone to your brother.

There was a long sigh from a little girl who hadn’t seen her father in over 24 hours, because she had been kidnapped and held hostage.

Okay…

Dad…!

Brad, where are you and Abby?

Dad, are you coming?

Yes, Brad, I’m coming to get you.

In the Jeep…?

No, unfortunately not, the Jeep was buried in a mudslide, and I couldn’t get her out.

Oh…

But I have something better, something I think you’re going to like a lot.

Like what, Dad?

Like a super-fast Mustang…

What does it look like?

You’ll see. It’s a super sports car, metallic blue with a white racing stripe.

That’s cool!

Now where are you and Abby?

In the next instant Roger’s memory closed, and he was back in the Mustang GT 500 Super Snake traveling west down the mountain toward the Pacific Ocean about ten miles away.

Daddy, we have to go back for the Alzheimer’s Kid. Abby’s voice from the backseat was firm. She seemed very certain about something.

Roger took his foot off the gas pedal and the Mustang GT 500 Super Snake slowed down to below 100 miles per hour. He couldn’t hear a single rattle in the vehicle. The ride was incredibly smooth and sleek. But his mind/brain was only partially on the car and his children in the backseat. He was thinking, considering…

Abby, who is the Alzheimer’s Kid?

He’s a real guy, Dad.

Bradley, let me tell.

Dad, Abby’s information is always half baked.

"No, it’s not, Bradley.

Yes, it is! You never know what you’re talking about, Abby. You’re only a half-baked cake.

That’s not fair, Bradley!

Hold it you two. Roger was steering the Mustang toward the shoulder of the narrow highway winding down the side of the small mountain range. He knew that the kids knew, that pulling the car over meant business, time to stop what they were doing. All the while he was thinking, considering…

"Abby, you can go first since you started the conversation. Brad can fill in the details.

Roger shifted gears from 6th to 5th and then down 4th as he eased the Mustang off the highway and onto the shoulder, what little there was of it. He was surprised that even over the mountains from the Seaville Valley everything was still pitch black. All that was in front of his headlights was still thick, black smoke. But Roger’s mind was really on something else. He was cursing himself for choosing to take the Super Snake, and leaving the Jeep behind. His original idea was that the Super Snake was the fastest way out of the valley. A police cruiser would never be able to catch him, and who knew where the police were anyway.

Plus, he figured that there was still so much thick smoke in the valley that a helicopter wasn’t going to spot them from the air. He would be safely out of the Seaville Valley before anyone knew he was gone. He shifted the Super Snake down into 3rd gear, and then 2nd. It was the smoothest set of gears he had ever shifted.

Whether to take the Mustang or his Jeep was not, however, at the bottom of his thinking. This was only part of the story Roger was struggling with. The part that was even more disturbing was the not so little problem of someone having sent a Hit Man to his home, first to threaten him by kidnapping his children, and then to work relentlessly to kill him and his children. Even though he knew that threat was over, Roger still shuddered. Because he knew, he knew there would be more people coming after him. He just didn’t understand why.

And there was even more that his mind/brain was working on. Perhaps most puzzling was the visit from one of his former Teen Talk students, Darlene, to his home back in October. That was exactly one week before his beloved home was burned to the ground in a wildfire, something he thought about every single day.

Was Darlene involved in that somehow?

Why was she there that night? Damn, isn’t that when everything in the Seaville Valley started going to hell?

Roger continued to slow the Mustang as the car cruised quietly over onto the very narrow dirt shoulder. Simultaneously with the shifting down into first gear, his mind had shifted onto yet another question. It was the question of fear. For a moment, he considered that the bad guys, whoever they really were, had a car that could match the Mustang. But he didn’t think so. Then again…

Daddy, are you listening to me?

Abby, I’m sorry. I got distracted by having to figure out where there is a safe place to turn around.

Well, as I was saying, the Alzheimer’s Kid is a real guy. It says so on his hat…Daddy, are we turning around?

I’m looking for the right spot, Abby.

Dad, Abby doesn’t know what Alzheimer’s disease is all about. She only knows that the guy has a hat that says Alzheimer’s Kid on it.

Abby turned toward her brother. She had her mother’s fiery temper. I do too know what the disease is about. It’s about fementia, he can’t think right.

Abby, you’re pathetic. It’s dementia with the letter d, not the letter f. And it’s all about the deterioration of the brain that often comes with aging.

Did you learn that in school, Brad?

I read about Alzheimer’s disease while I was surfing the internet.

But, Dad, Abby’s right about something, we have to go back!

Roger’s mind was still not totally present inside the Mustang. If his kids were adamant about this then there must be a good reason. But did it really warrant turning around and driving back into the Seaville Valley? Sooner or later a bunch of bad people were going to find out that Lenny was dead, and that he probably had the Hit Man’s cell phone, which as far as Roger could tell, was the key to everything. He was certain that there would be a price tag on his head and on his children’s heads as well. In the end the question was: did he really want to risk being discovered by going back into the valley, and for what good reason? And what about answers to the other questions he was dealing with?

And then Roger’s mind/brain unconsciously slipped back into his memory, searching through those moments when he finally reached his children, searching for a clue to something. There were more things he had to sort out.

I don’t know where we are, Dad. We’re locked inside something mental. Roger thought for a moment.

Brad, can you bang on something in there, make some noise that would get someone’s attention…

Dad, something is the matter with Abby.

Like what, Brad?

She’s kind of…

Unresponsive, is that the right word?

Yeah, Dad, that’s it. She’s not responding to anything I say.

Roger paused for a moment. That should work.

Brad, tell Abby her Mother wants to speak with her.

What, Dad…?

Finally, the Mustang glided softly to a complete stop on the narrow shoulder of the highway with its headlights shining into the darkness, black smoke, and floating ash that hung over the highway like an ultra-thick fog. Would he be able to get in and out of Seaville without being discovered? Sooner or later, the black smoke and floating ash was going to dissipate enough for visibility to be restored in the valley, and then what…

Will there be enough time? That is the question.

Daddy, you’re not listening again!

You’re right, Abby. I’m trying to figure something else out.

Dad, Dad, the Alzheimer’s Kid told us that he knew who the serial arsonist is!

Bradley, I was the one who was supposed to tell Daddy. Now, you ruined everything.

You’re too slow, Abby.

I am not Bradley! Abby was shouting in the car now.

Hold it, you two!

Roger turned toward the backseat. "Brad, give your sister a break!

She’s only five years old."

And by the way, who is this Alzheimer’s Kid character?

He’s old, Dad.

How old, Brad?

Abby jumped in immediately. He’s 73 years old, and I knew that before you did, Bradley!

Abby, you’re still pathetic!

Daddy, that’s not fair. I don’t know what pathetic means.

Hold it, have you two heard the expression ‘three strikes and you’re out?’ This was the third strike, which means that you both struck out. And that means that from now on you two are not speaking until I address you.

Both children were silent.

In the background of their silence, Roger could feel the smooth vibrations of the huge engine, all 620 horsepower. All that power was extremely seductive, and Roger recognized that fact. With that amount of horsepower, was he totally invincible?

Let’s try this again, from the top, slowly.

Roger knew his frustrations were eating away at him, and they needed to be resolved. But unless it was a matter of life and death right now, his children came first.

Then his mind/brain slipped right into his memory, again, and he was back in the Seaville Valley close to finding his children after more than 24 torturous hours of fearing for their lives every second.

Dad, that sounds pretty lame. I mean, Mom’s been dead for over a year.

Let’s give it a try, Brad. In the meantime, can you find something inside the metal whatever the thing is, and prepare to start banging on the walls once Abby finishes her conversation with her Mother? Hopefully, you can get someone’s attention this way. When you do, you’ll have a surprise for someone.

Ah…okay, Dad.

Brad, just tell, Abby, that her Mother is on the phone from Heaven.

Really, Dad!…Okay.

Brad turned toward his sister, whose body wrapped in tattered clothes was curled up in a corner of the metal structure. Abby, it’s our Mom, she’s calling from Heaven.

Silence…

Abby, it’s our Mom. Dad found her in Heaven and she wants to talk to you.

Me…?

Yes, Abby, you, it’s Mom on the phone for you.

Abby suddenly found her energy, and crawled out of the corner. Mommy, when are you coming back?

Oh, when I’m six? Yippee! You’ll be there for my birthday! And you know what I want for my birthday, just you!

Bradley, Mom’s coming back on my birthday next month!

That’s great, Abby! Now we just have to get out of here so you can be at your Birthday Party with Mom.

Oh, okay! Thanks Mom!

Abby, just give your brother back the cell phone. For the first time in many, many hours Abby was smiling. Gently, Brad took the slender cell phone from her small hand.

Dad, I never would have believed it…

Okay, Brad, now it’s time to start beating the walls.

In the flash of another moment, Roger’s mind/brain was back in the Mustang and he just flowed with it.

Exactly who is the Alzheimer’s Kid and how did you meet him? Then we’ll move on to the subject of what he thinks he knows about a serial arsonist.

He knows a lot, Dad.

But Roger still couldn’t keep his mind inside the Mustang, with his children. His thoughts and feelings were wandering outside the car of his dreams and running over the events of the past day or so. His amnesia felt like it was lifting, a little. For a few seconds, he remembered that he was going to have to deal with something very special on Abby’s birthday after the conversation she just thought she had with her Mother. That was, if they made it out alive in the next 24 hours. But Roger already knew the answer to the dilemma with Abby. Jill had told the kids that she would be everywhere, and be with them all the time, including Abby’s birthday parties.

Then another thought kicked in, and another.

What the hell is happening to Seaville? It sure doesn’t look like Awesome Town around here anymore.

And, Darlene, oh dear Darlene, what was she doing at our house that night high as a kite and seductive as the Devil?

On the other side of the evolutionary chess board from sexuality and life was death and destruction, where things were not quite so quiet, or stale, or forgiving. Four men were standing in the same large tent Roger had fallen through more than twelve hours earlier. The man he had left behind was in critical condition, barely breathing now. But none of the men knew anything about first aid let alone trauma. And besides, they weren’t compassionate men by any stretch of the imagination. No, they had other things on their minds, while the man’s breathing became more and more shallow.

Lenny’s dead, we found his body in the desert. Someone broke his neck.

There was a long pause between the four men. Well, well, well, ain’t that interesting. Sterling’s a murderer now. Maybe we can get the law after him now, too. The plot is thickening, boys, and it’s in our favor.

We think he got his kids back.

You have to be kidding me. How the hell did that happen?

His five-year-old daughter had a cell phone we didn’t know about.

"Why don’t we get you gentlemen new hats that say ‘Moron Squad’

on them? With a subtitle: ‘We can prove we’re Morons, we were outsmarted by a five-year old girl!

There was another long pause, while the other three men were staring down at the ground. Finally, the heavy-set gentleman spoke up. We have someone for you, Boss.

"So,