Guilt Kills

Chapter Two

By Cory!! Strode

It took more time for O'Ryan to pack Mercy's belongings than his own. He had clothing, a small thatch mat he used for sleeping and other assorted items, while Mercy had her blanket, various bones she liked to chew on, and other various things he had salvaged from home so that he could continue her training. The apartment he was staying it was one where you paid by the week, so when he turned in his key, they gave him a couple of bucks back.

He'd been a quiet tenant, and always paid early, so the owner liked him. O'Ryan hadn't even had any problem with Mercy staying with him, and it had taken him a while to convince the owner that she was trained well enough that she wouldn't be barking all night or relieving herself in the rooms.

One of Nitti's men had given him a map to Peoria and the name of a place he could stay while he was there. It looked like a smaller city, and was about five hours worth of driving from Chicago, so he would have a lot of time to think. They told him that there were about one hundred thousand people who lived in Peoria, but he wasn't looking for anyone who lived there, just to stay there since it was a big enough city that he could get lost in the crowd. They said that Havana was so small; everyone knew when a stranger came to town, and the less attention he drew to himself, the better.

Before he left town, he stopped at the deli that had kind of turned into his dining room. It was just a few blocks away from his apartment, and was owned by an elderly couple that had lived in the neighborhood since they came to America. O'Ryan liked them because they had been kind to him when he first showed up in the neighborhood, showing him the apartment building. Mercy liked them because they made a corned beef hash that she liked more than the raw meat that O'Ryan normally bought for her.

O'Ryan bought as much of the corned beef hash as they had, and a couple of sandwiches for himself to eat as he drove. He didn't say he was going away, but he sensed that they knew it. They tried to give him the food for free, but he overpaid for it, saying that they had already helped him enough.

As he left, O'Ryan felt odd. If Nitti were right, he would either find Heenan on this trip or right when he got back, finishing what he had come here for. The odd part was that O'Ryan had no idea what he would do after he found Heenan. He had been so consumed with finding him that he hadn't thought about what he would do afterwards.

They left, driving into a foggy morning, driving south. It didn't take long to get out of Chicago, since most people were driving into the city in the morning. O'Ryan allowed Mercy to eat a large bowl of the corned beef hash as he drove, and when she was done, she lay quietly in the back seat, not looking out of the windows, like the other dogs he had seen in cars.

Once they were out of the city, O'Ryan's memory took over and he thought about how he had gotten to this point in time, and why he needed to find Heenan.

A year ago, his life was completely different. He had never been to a city. He'd never left his home. Home was a large monastery in New Hampshire. They didn't call it a monastery, but after he described it to people who hadn't been there, they called it that. He just called it home. It was a large, old stone building that had three stories above ground and two below ground. The first below ground floor was used for storage and shelter from bad weather. The lowest floor was one that only a few people went to.

He was told that a woman had left him at the door when he was only a few days old. He had no idea if it was true or not, but it seemed to be the story told to everyone who asked why they were there, and why they had no parents. He vaguely remembered his childhood until the time he started learning, which was at age 5.

From that age, he remembered most everything. The morning would be spent in class with one of the elders, who would teach them reading, math and science. The afternoon was spent learning martial arts, the ability to fight. Some fighting with weapons, such as guns, swords, knives and more obscure weapons. Some was fighting without weapons, making the body itself a weapon. There were always other children with him. There were two others his age and at least five or six that would train with them, since they were within a few years of age of each other.

All of them were trained for two things. First, to help take care of the home when they were old enough. For that, they were taught how to grow food, take care of animals and do repairs on the building. Second, how to fight in case what was in the lowest level had to be defended.

Or fought.

Finding out what was in that lowest level was part of a ceremony that was performed when you were an adult. When you could defeat a master in unarmed combat, knew the history you had been taught, and were able to perform one of the tasks for taking care of the house better than one of the other masters. One of his agemates, Luke, was a master at planting, and was able to complete work in the fields quickly, giving him a mission of working there. His other agemate, Elan, was a master marksman, able to fire repeatedly at a target with a revolver and hit the exact same place on that target with every shot, even allowing for the kick of the weapon and having to re-aim every time.

O'Ryan had worried in his teenage years that he would not be able to defeat a master at anything. He did not excel in learning, had no aptitude for math or science. He struggled when working with the animals, and was sure that the horses had an active hatred for him. However, he enjoyed the martial arts, and training of guard dogs. He worked with many of the dogs, showing more patience and care than any of the other people who lived there. It was almost as if he could tell what the dogs needed in order to learn a task.

By the time he was eighteen, he was considered the master of the kennel, and would have to defeat a master at unarmed combat in order to leave the school. He trained more than the others at this skill, because he felt he was not as good as the other students. He had no idea how why he felt that way, but every mistake he made would be magnified in his mind.

Endlessly, he was hit on the elbow with a bamboo stick because he did not keep it in the preferred position after a strike, which the masters said showed lack of concentration and follow-through. In his room on the first floor, he would practice in front of the mirror, marking on the floor where he needed to stand, and where on the mirror his elbow would have to be in order to have it in the correct position. Night after night he practiced after strength training. He didn't notice when the others would be disciplined, only when he would feel the sting of the bamboo on his skin.

By the time he was 18, he was living such a hard internal life that he was rarely talking to his agemates. They discussed things freely, books they had read, artistic pursuits they wanted to explore, what they felt they would do when they were elders, and other dreams. O'Ryan would sit and go over in his mind proper forms, lessons he had learned, or what he would be working on with the dogs next. It was probably why he enjoyed the dogs the most, they didn't concern themselves with the future, only with the here and now. What they had to do, and what they would earn for it. Pleasing him. He was their leader, and they trusted that he would do what was best for them.

Just as he trusted the masters.

His first time attempting to defeat a master in unarmed combat, it was with Nicholas Heenan. He was in his middle thirties, and had only been defeated twice in unarmed combat. The other masters had chosen him, because in the time that O'Ryan had been so hard on himself, he had become the best fighter of the students. O'Ryan did not believe it, and felt that they wanted him to fight Heenan to push him harder.

That may very well have been true. The masters would match a student with a master they felt was of similar ability, as if to give both of the participants a lesson. The student that the masters could be defeated, and the masters that the student had progressed beyond them.

The first battle he had with Heenan was short. Heenan dodged his attacks with ease, making O'Ryan's devastating attacks worthless. Heenan had landed a number of small, sharp blows, each of which took a toll. Heenan conserved his energy, while O'Ryan kept attacking with rage, expending his energy quickly and able to be defeated after he was exhausted.

However, unlike most of the masters, Heenan didn't want to just defeat the student. He then continued to attack after O'Ryan had surrendered, pummeling him in the chest until O'Ryan could no longer draw air. The last thing he remembered from his first battle was the other masters restraining Heenan as he drifted into unconsciousness.

He awoke the next day in the infirmary, where Master Solitaire was sitting at his bedside. Master Solitaire was the leader of the home, and was thought to be the wisest of the masters. The few times he had taught classes, O'Ryan had had trouble following his lectures, because they tended to jumps from subject to subject with the most tenuous of threads, but they always showed that the master was thinking faster than those around him. He was also an amazing fighter, and it was said that he would train by sparring with 5 other masters attacking him at once. His hair was still black as night, but his face was that of a much older man, hard, and filled with lines that age caused. He wore the simple gi that they all wore, a black shirt and loose fitting black pants made of simple cotton. The masters wore black and the students wore white. Master Solitaire was also one of the biggest of the masters, towering over most of them at over six feet tall, and he was easily as wide as a man and a half. He was heavily muscled, and it was said that in his room on the top floor, he had built a weight set where he spent his nights lifting weights for hours while he had one of the lesser masters read to him so that he could learn while he lifted.

"I am sorry about what Master Heenan did to you, O'Ryan," he said in slow, deliberate tone.

Master Solitaire was not much older than Heenan, but the lines on his face were deep, and his brow was, as always, furrowed with concern and worry. It was at that moment that O'Ryan wondered why the masters were all so young. One would think that if the home had been around for as long as the building had been there, there would be much older masters as well as the ones in their thirties and forties.

"You will be given a different master to spar with when you heal. Heenan has been under great stress lately, and we think that he took that stress out on you. It was not right of him, but we do ask that you understand."

O'Ryan nodded.

"We also hear that you have trained the dogs well," Master Solitaire softly said, "and that shall be your task when you complete the next sparring. You are excused from all classes, but you will have to continue with the training while you heal. The dogs do not respond as well to the other students. You do know that that will be your task when you are a master, do you not?"

O'Ryan nodded.

"You will spar against Master Victor when you are healed..."

O'Ryan cut him off and said, "No. I wish to attempt to defeat Master Heenan as I did in my first attempt."

Master Solitaire looked concerned and said; "I do not feel that that is a wise course of action. Master Heenan has been working on the lowest level of the home on things that cause him incredible stress. He is our best at fighting, and said that he was unable to control himself once the fight had began. I do not know if that is true or if..." Solitaire paused and looked away. Whatever his concerns were, they were too much for him to share, as he turned back and said, "I understand your frustration, but I think it best for you to face Master Victor. He is among our best fighters and will present a similar challenge."

"Master," O'Ryan said, sitting up in his bed, "I do not wish to be disrespectful, but if I do not face the best among us, how will I improve? The reason we are here is to defend something, and if we do not force ourselves to be our best, we are cheating. Not just cheating to be come a master, but cheating all of us who live here. If I am unable to defeat Master Heenan because he is stronger, or faster or bigger than I am, that is one thing. But, if he defeated me simply because he is more skilled, then isn't it my duty to train until I am more skilled? At least as skilled as I can possibly be?"

Master Solitaire stared into O'Ryan's eyes and said, "You are a special one, O'Ryan. I would have no problem if you would accept a sparring with Master Victor, but the fact that wish to push yourself beyond your abilities has always been amazing to me. You are correct. I also think that when you become a master, you should give that very talk to the students you will be training. I will send in one of the healers to sit with you. They will let me know when you are well enough to spar again."

Master Solitaire got up and walked out of the room, pausing at the doorway. He didn't turn around, but mere stopped and said, "Heal quickly. There is a coming darkness that we will need your light to fight. And I do not know how much time we have."

When O'Ryan recovered, he spent every waking moment training. He would spar with his agemates, spend time with the other Masters, asking them for tips and pointers, as working on his strength training.

Six months later he was ready to try again. The sparring was usually held in the courtyard, but they had to move it to the front yard of the home, since everyone wanted to watch. It was amazing to see everyone in one place, since they didn't even all eat at the same time. There were easily over 100 people there, which shocked O'Ryan. Sure, he knew them all, but to see them all in one place at one time hammered it home just how many of them there were.

He stood in a circle they had drawn with chalk and waited for Master Heenan to arrive. When he did, the crowd parted to let him through.

The fight was long, since O'Ryan had spent more of his time learning defense than practicing offense. Heenan pressed his attack rapidly, as he had done the last time, trying to go for critical hits immediately, rather than trying to wear O'Ryan down as the others he had sparred with had tried.

Minutes passed, and O'Ryan lost his conscious thought, flowing from one movement to the next, blocking kicks, pushing aside punches, and every so often trying to get in a blow of his own, usually having to change the blow to a defensive move. To the people watching, it was a well-choreographed dance, but to O'Ryan, it was an exercise in trying to determine where his next vulnerability would be and making sure to have a counter to a blow to that area.

Finally, he had an opening, and he came slightly out of the trance he had put himself into and gave a two handed blow to Master Heenan's chest, knocking him backwards. He was unable to knock him down, but he did score a hit, and he was able to tell that he had shocked the Master.

At that point, Master Heenan lost his temper, and came forward with slashing attacks meant not to spar, but to attack with deadly force. O'Ryan deflected the blows, but his legs and arms were getting very tired, and ached with each blow that they had to absorb part of to deflect. He knew that he was running out of time, and if he didn't end the match soon, he would lose again.

His training served him well, as he continued to counter every possible blow that Master Heenan delivered, and when he got an opportunity, O'Ryan struck, one hand blocking a blow from Master Heenan's leg, and kicking at Master Heenan's unprotected leg at the same time, knocking him to the ground. O'Ryan pressed his advantage, leaping into the air in order to come down on Master Heenan, and win the sparring match, but as he came down, the Master moved quickly, both rolling out of the way, and shooting an open hand at O'Ryan's leg, catching it in such a way that he went down, injured.

O'Ryan rolled with the impact to the ground, but could feel his leg start to give way when he tried to stand up. He saw Master Heenan spinning toward him, a roundhouse kick about to be delivered, and he let his leg give out under him so that he could go under the blow. He watched, as Master Heenan was able to land and turn to face him. O'Ryan tried to stand again, and was able to get to his feet, but his leg was making it nearly impossible for him to think with blinding pain shooting through it.

He saw a smile fill Master Heenan's face, but it was not the smile of a Master who was proud or happy with a student. It was the cruel smile of someone who liked to see others in pain. The smile chilled O'Ryan, who had only seen that smile once before, on the face of a man who had been removed from the home for his excessive cruelty to the dogs. It was a smile that he had hoped to never see again, and now he saw it on the man who stood between him and adulthood.

He assumed a defensive stance and tried to put the pain out of his mind. He watched as Master Heenan came toward him again, a slashing attack, going for his injured leg. The good thing about that style of attack was that the leg was easy to defend, and he didn't have to use it for warding off the blows. He had changed his stance to protect the leg, and was blocking kicks; knife-edge chops and punches that were all meant to hurt his already injured leg.

With the attacks, O'Ryan was able to get into the rhythm of the fight, and was doing his defenses against without thinking, looking for an opportunity for an attack of his own. He watched for patterns, and when he figured one out, he just had to wait for an opportunity.

When it presented itself, he was ready. Master Heenan always combined a pair of slashing attacks that, when done, left his chest vulnerable for a blow, and O'Ryan knew that it was his only chance, so when it came, he channeled all of his pain and anger into one single blow to Master Heenan's chest. It his with such force that at first; O'Ryan wondered if he had supernatural strength. Master Heenan recoiled from the blow and was sent sailing backwards, off of his feet to the ground.

He hit the ground with a hard thump, and O'Ryan went into his defensive stance, waiting for the next move. It was at the point that Master Solitaire emerged from the crowd, which had been completely out of O'Ryan's mind during the fight. As his senses opened up and he quit focusing on the fight itself, he could hear that many of the people there were cheering for him.

Master Solitaire quickly placed himself between Master Heenan and O'Ryan and held up a hand for silence. Master Heenan got up, a trickle of blood on the side of his mouth, and wild, savage look in his eyes. He started to move forward when Master Solitaire stopped him with a simple gesture and said, "The sparring is over. I would like to introduce to all of you, Master O'Ryan."

Master Heenan glared at O'Ryan, nothing but pure hate in his eyes, tainting the moment for O'Ryan, who could not turn to face the cheering of the others under Master Heenan had turned away. He wanted to walk over and apologize to Master Heenan, but by the time Master Heenan had turned away, the others had surrounded O'Ryan, patting him on the back and trying to shake his hand. He heard them say the battle was impressive, and the best they had seen, but O'Ryan looked back to see if Master Heenan was still seething, but he was gone.

The rest of that night was a bit of a haze. There was a huge feast, as there always was whenever a new master was declared, but he spent much of the evening hearing the other masters talking about how proud they were of him and how they would be happy to continue to teach him their skills if he could teach them his fighting skills.

The next morning, Master Solitaire awaked him before dawn. The entire home was quiet, and no one else was awake. They said nothing as he led O'Ryan down the stairs to the second basement. There were no lights in the second basement, and they had gotten a pair of torches before they went down the final stairs. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, there were small rooms on either side of a large, ornately carved stone door. In one room was an arsenal of weapons, swords, axes, shotguns, rifles and pistols, nearly as big as the main arsenal they had upstairs. The other room was set up like the small chapel on the main floor, with an alter, pews, and all the other accouterments of a small church. The main difference was that this one was lit with thousands of tiny candles, and there were two of the masters in the chapel, reading over a large book that was kept on the altar.

Master Solitaire stopped at the large door and turned toward O'Ryan, speaking for the first time that day.

"Behind this door is the reason we have formed this order. Almost twenty years ago, a great battle was fought here between the forces of light and the forces of darkness. Someone who lived here had tried to make a deal with one of the Elder Gods who dwell beyond our world. In return for great power, he would have given the lives of all of those who lived near this home.

"When what he was doing was discovered, some of the other Masters and I were able to break into the home and stop the ceremony. However, it had already begun, and in so doing, the barriers between our world and the world of the Dark God had been weakened. Do you understand what I am telling you, O'Ryan?"

He nodded his mind boggling at what he was being told.

Master Solitaire continued, "We have pledged our lives to protecting this world for the Dark God, and will lay down our lives rather than allow it to be set free. The horrors it would be able to visit on our world are beyond our comprehension. We train here to be able to fight those who would come to set it free, and when we hear of those who are planning to come here, we send a number of the masters to eliminate them. We do not wish to kill, but the safety of the money takes precedence over the mad dreams of the few. We also train in order to battle in case it ever does get free, for in our world, the Dark God is vulnerable to attack for a short time, or so it says in the writings we have found.

"As a master here, you are pledged to protect the world from the Dark God by any means necessary except one - No innocent is to be killed, for doing so will give the Dark God power and dominance over you. We keep this secret from the people here until we have determined that they can be trusted with the power that we hold. Do you accept this charge, O'Ryan?"

"Yes," he said, without hesitation. He had been raised by these men, brought up to do this thing, and if this was their purpose, he would join into it as well.

Master Solitaire nodded and turned toward the door.

O'Ryan remembered very little in detail after that. What was inside the door had so horrified him that he had blocked it from his memory. All he could recall was that he was shown the Dark God, trapped between two worlds in a room that had been smeared with blood and mystic symbols. He remembered collapsing in the room and waking up again in his bed with Master Solitaire there beside him, in a chair. The master explained that the sight of the Dark God was too much for most human beings to bear, and that the horror he had lived through would soon fade, leaving only the truth and the reason they were there.

He asked O'Ryan again to pledge that he would protect the world from the evil they had contained, and O'Ryan agreed.

It should have been the start of O'Ryan's new purpose in life, but it was all cut short less than a month later.

After a month of training the dogs, learning what the masters do and learned that as a master, he would be able to venture into the outside world, O'Ryan felt that he was content with his lot in life. Some of his agemates were upset that they had to go through more classes before going out into the world, but he enjoyed the idea of learning for the rest of his life.

Since he had beaten the best fighter, he was considered to be the Master who would eventually teach the younger students the art of fighting. Two weeks after he was shown the second basement, he was taken down there again by Master Solitaire who showed him the arsenal in more detail, including a sword that was said to be able to cleave anything, living or unliving. It was said to have been found when they were preparing to face the Dark God, but that they had not needed it.

O'Ryan was allowed to hold it once, and while it was in his hands, it almost felt like it was alive. The balance was perfect, and it moved through the air as if it were a simple extension of his arm. He was told to use it on a cement block, which he was able to cut with little extra strength, which amazed him. The sword was kept in a secret compartment of the arsenal, and Master Solitaire told him that only three masters knew it was there.

He didn't ask who the other Master was.

He regretted asking that now.

But at the time, he was more in awe of what was going on around him. He tried to settle into a routine much like the one he had had as a student, but there was so much more to do that he often went to bed with a list of tasks he had not been able to complete, which made him feel as if he was letting the rest of them down.

He was going to ask Master Solitaire for help, but there was never time.

Then, after about a month, time ran out.

It had happened quickly, in the morning. He was just starting to rise when he heard a deep rumbling coming from deep in the building. He woke immediately, wondering if there was something wrong when the world collapsed around him. He could only remember the feeling of the floor falling away under his feet, and then everything went dark.

He awoke some time later in complete darkness. He could feel nothing but pain, and saw nothing. He tried to move but was unable to, pinned down by what had to be rubble and debris. He struggled to move any part of his body, but nothing shifted or moved. He lay there, wondering if anything was broken, if he would be able to get out, if he would die of starvation after surviving whatever had happened.

He slipped in and out of consciousness for a while; to this day he still had no idea how long it was, until he heard something below him again. A deep rumble, much like the first. This one, however, was slower in building, and seemed to start further away and move toward him. As the sound filled his mind, he could almost see shafts of light start to form around him, as if the rubble was parting around him.

It wasn't. The whole world seemed to shudder and then he could feel the ground below him give way again, but slowly, as if it were sand in an hourglass. He tried to move, and was able to, and he grabbed a piece of rubble that was not moving and waited. All at once, the floor under him gave way and the world crashed around him again, and he held on with what little strength he had left. When the sound and smoke cleared, he was on what little was left of a floor, and below was the second basement, with rubble, and, from what he could see, bodies.

He was able to move, but the time he had spent pinned had made it so his limbs would not easily obey his mind, and he was unable to move much further than the edge of what was left of the floor. Looking around, he saw that the rubble had shifted around him, and most of it was still as it was, but an area in the second basement had opened up, allowing some of the rubble to slip away. He looked around on the floor he was on, and guessed that it had to be the main basement.

He was able to pull himself to his feet, and clawed his way to what used to be a door and was no a basely passable passage.

He remembered having to shove rocks and cement out of his way to get to the surface. He also had had to climb over the bodies of the people he had known his whole life, broken and silent.

When he had made it to the surface and out of the ruins of the building, he lay on the grass, looking into the night sky with hunger, as if he thought he would never have gotten to see it again.

After a short time, he was able to get to his feet again and he looked around the ground. The building looked as if it had simply fallen in on itself, and there was no sign of life. The barn had burned to the ground, and he could see that the kennel was still smoldering. He must have been trapped for at least a couple of days by his hunger and thirst. He was able to make it to the well they had used for drawing water for the animals, and drank deeply. He then went to the garden and pulled half-grown potatoes from the ground, and washing them off quickly, ate them raw, and feeling them start to ease the hunger that was causing his stomach to cramp.

Once those needs were taken care of, he tended to his wounds as best he could, making sure to wash off any dirt he could, and wrapping anything still open and not scabbed over with the tatters of his clothing, keeping only a small amount for modesty.

Then, all that being done, he collapsed on the ground again and slept as if he had died. He dreamt of the people he had known, and their voice calling out for him to join them.

He was awoken the next morning by the sound of a car driving up. He slowly stood up and saw that it was a police car, a red light on the top turning around and around.

The next few hours were a blur as the policeman called for help on a radio and others showed up, including an ambulance that took him to a hospital where they treated his wounds with far less skill than he cold have. He had to tell the story of what he knew, which was precious little, over and over for the next two days.

He was told that the home had a large bank account, and there were papers that said that if there was an accident at the home, the survivors would be able to take the proceeds of the accounts would be theirs. He asked if there was any0one he would be sharing the money with, and the man who told him shook his head sadly.

O'Ryan felt himself go dead inside.

He asked if they knew what had caused the collapse and was told that they had no idea. He then asked when he would be released and they checked with a doctor. The doctor said that he should stay for observation, but they couldn't keep him if he didn't want to go.

He left within ten minutes of finding that out.

One of the policemen drove him out to the ruins, and O'Ryan asked him to leave him there on his own if at all possible.

The policeman wondered how he would get back to town, and O'Ryan told him not to worry. This was his home, and he would find a way to go back to town when he was ready.

After the policeman had left, O'Ryan searched the rubble it was safe to search through. He had been in the hospital for a few days, recovering, and he saw than men had been here, taking what bodies they could from the rubble. It was near twilight, so they had left for the night, and he was there, alone.

He went to the ruins of the kennel and sat in the midst of the ash and charred wood. What could have burned down the buildings and destroyed the main home? What would have the power to do such damage?

Only one thing. The Dark God. Somehow it had gotten free.

He closed his eyes and remembered the good times here, working with the dogs. He cleared his mind of all thoughts and just basked in the memories. They were all he had now.

He felt something soft and wet touch his face, and he left back, opening his eyes. He was going to get into a fighting stance, and instead saw Mercy, one of the mastiffs he had trained, looking at him quizzically. She had singed fur, but looked unharmed otherwise.

It was at the point that O'Ryan cried for the first time since everything had come crashing down. He knelt beside her and cried as she licked him, as if he were her lost puppy, finally found.

A short time later, he decided that he had to know what had happened, and he would use one of the skills he had been taught by one of the other masters. In order to fight a Dark God, the members of the order had to know of the arcane arts, but O'Ryan had not been taught much yet, as the students were only taught that they existed and could be used. Only the elder Masters knew of the high arts, and they only chose an elite few to learn them.

He knew of how to view the past, however, so he set up what was needed for the ritual. He marked out the points, assembled the proper herbs, set the pyres and put himself into the trance as he had been taught. He asked to see what had happened, and saw the second basement. He was not skilled enough to hear what had occurred, but he saw Master Heenan slay Master Solitaire and set loose the Dark God, which caused the building to collapse.

He then watched in horror as Master Heenan walked through the rubble with the sword he had been shown by Master Solitaire, slaying those who had still been alive. He saw Master Heenan set the barn ablaze after shutting the doors, and do the same with the kennel and the other buildings.

He watched as the Dark God rose into the sky until he could no longer see it, and the mad visage of Master Heenan, streaked with blood and lit by the flames.

O'Ryan had shock himself out of the trance and knew that he had survived because he had been buried so deep in the rubble that Master Heenan couldn't detect him.

The true horror of what had happened was too much for O'Ryan. All he could think of was that he should have died with the others, and if he had only been stronger or smarter, he could have found a way to stop Master Heenan. Another ritual had given him a general idea of where Master Heenan was, but he was too inexperienced to narrow it down more than just Chicago.

After sleeping in the woods near the ruins, he went back to town and withdrew the money the order had saved, bought a car, and came back one last time under cover of night to assemble what weapons he could. He shoved them in the trunk of the car, filling it with guns, bullets, knives, a pair of swords, throwing stars, sai and other weapons in order to be prepared for anything.

The next day, he and Mercy had set off for Chicago.

O'Ryan made his mind stop wandering as he noticed that the car was almost out of gasoline. He had been paying so little attention to what was going on in the car that Marcy had moved to the front seat and was sitting there, her muzzle on his lap, and her sad eyes staring at him. O'Ryan reached over and pet her on the back and let her know that they would stop the car and get something to eat as soon as he saw a gas station.

The scenery around the road was bland, not like the rich hills and valleys of New Hampshire. The land was flat, with long fields of corn and wheat with a farmhouse of a cluster of trees every so often. He couldn't imagine how people lived here, so far from mountains and the ocean. Then again, he thought, they probably could not imagine his life of training and learning.

It was as if they were in different worlds and the only thing connecting them was the sky. It was bright today, with very few clouds and the sun high overhead, chasing away the last of the winter snow. There were small remnants of it left in ditches or where it had been piled by people moving it out of their driveways. The one thing he did see that impressed him were the barns. Each small farmhouse had a huge, freshly painted red barn. He had heard of them from the other masters, but the home only had small buildings for the storage of hay and grain. Most of the food they kept for themselves was stored in the basement or the larder, which was a separate underground building that was also used as a storm shelter if the weather got too bad.

Used to use, he thought grimly, now it was buried under rubble or lost in the collapse. It was all gone.

It too almost 20 minutes of driving before he came to a small town on the side of a river. It had a gas station with a small restaurant a few doors down, with a few cars parked in front of it. The gas station was small, just a ramshackle shack with a garage attached to it where two cars were parked. He pulled in and got out of the car as a teenage boy ran out and started to pump the gas pump.

O'Ryan told him to fill it up and check the car over, tossing the kid the keys to the car.

"Where are you going?" the kid said.

"I'm going to grab something to eat, is that restaurant any good?"

"They make a great hot turkey sammich," the kid said. When he opened the front door to wipe down the interior of the windows, Mercy jumped out and run to be next to O'Ryan.

"She's an awful purty dawg ya got there, buddy," the kid said, "I got a couple hunting dogs I use for hunting quail. Got to keep 'em tied up all the time or they'd just take off after any old bird in the yard. They're nuts like that."

O'Ryan smiled, "They only do what they know. If you were to teach them how to be calm, how to rest and how to be your companion, they wouldn't have to be chained to do such things. It doesn't take long."

"Your dawg is trained pretty good, how long did it take you?"

O'Ryan twisted his wrist in a way that looked as if he was flicking water off of it and Mercy matched his walk perfectly, "A lifetime, son. A lifetime."

The kid went back to going over the car. O'Ryan was not much older than the kid, still felt as if he was decades older. When he got to the restaurant, he put his hand into a fist, and Mercy sat by the door quietly. She wouldn't move from that spot until either he came out or she was attacked.

The restaurant was busy, with a few tables that had elderly couples sitting and eating, but most of the people were older men in dungaree overalls at the counter, jamming sandwiches in their mouths and dipped them in a mixture of gravy and mashed potatoes.

O'Ryan found a quiet table near a window, so he could watch his car and Mercy and sat quietly until a waitress came by. She couldn't have been much older than the kid who was checking the oil in his car, which meant that she was probably around his age. She was short, only about five foot two, and she was in a dress that was covered by a large apron, which had food stains on it from all the meals, she'd brought out to people that day. She was very pretty, with s glorious mane of red hair that went past her shoulders, blue eyes that sparkled and a smile that seemed to light up the room as she flashed it. O'Ryan tried very hard not to notice how she moved, but was unable to.

She may have been short, but she filled out her dress with curves that made him feel a bit dizzy. Her chest bounced as she walked, and every so often, he was able to get a glimpse of a well-shaped and muscular calf. For some reason, she was wearing work boots, which seemed at odds with her outfit, but seemed to look good on her anyway.

Her voice was tough, as if she'd been through a lot that day and wasn't in the mood for any guff, but he could still tell there was a smile it in as she said, "I'm Belinda, what can I get you?"

O'Ryan opened his mouth as if to speak, and then stopped and blushed a bit. She smile at him again, and he felt all dizzy again. "The menu is right here," she said, leaning over the table a bit to grab it and giving him a view of just how ample her chest was.

He swallowed hard and took it from her gingerly, as if he was scared that their hands might touch. "I...I do...um...I would like some.." he paused. He knew he wanted something to drink, but for the life of him the actual word for the liquid he wanted had escape from his mind and was now nestled snugly in the area between her breasts. He was trying not to stare, but his gaze kept wanting to go there and get another look, this one longer, lingering on them, wondering if he stared at them long enough if he could commit them to memory for the rest of his life. He looked at the back of the menu, hoping that would refresh his failing memory.

"Milk, that's it, I'd like some milk please," he finally stammered out.

She smiled at him again and said, "I'll be back in a bit when you've decided."

He nodded and buried his face in the menu. It was a mass of sandwiches and a few fried meals like pork chops and hamburgers. There were no green vegetables, which he was used to eating, and no fish. It was pretty easy to tell that they simple had what was available in the area, and it was far too early in the year for anything green or fresh. He decided to have the turkey sandwich on the gas kid's recommendation, made sure they had corned beef hash so that Mercy had something to eat and put down the menu. A few minutes later, Belinda came over and said, "Are you ready?""

O'Ryan was a bit more prepared and looked right below her mouth so that he would not be staring at her chest, while not looking directly into her eyes, as most people tended to get very uncomfortable when he did that. He ordered quickly and thanked her.

She turned and went back to the kitchen, and he was unable to keep his eyes from watching her backside as she left, the movement of it hypnotizing him as if it were Master Lucan teaching him about deep meditation.

The other people were engaged in loud conversation around him, some about how they wished they had money to make millions in the stock market, others about what a bad job a man named Herbert Hoover was doing, and a few others about how they wished the rumrunners would just leave their part of the state alone. O'Ryan watched out the window, listening to the conversations and wondering why the people here were so different from the ones in Chicago, who liked the people who brought in liquor. There, the rumrunners were heroes, and when he would spend time in a speakeasy on an assignment, he would even hear songs about the rumrunners and bootleggers and whisky makers being the heroes of the modern world, much like Robin Hood or Rob Roy.

It wasn't very long before Belinda came out with his food, which didn't look like a sandwich at all. It looked to be a large slice of thick break, covered with a large slab of turkey, covered with mashed potatoes and drenched in a brown gravy. He thanked her, not wanted to complain, since the people here were different than he was used to, and their idea of a sandwich may be different from his. She was going back to get the corned beef hash and he said, "I won't be eating it, miss. It's for my dog, so if you could put it in a bag or something, I will give it to her when I am done."

"You feed your dog corned beef hash?" She said, her smile widening, "doesn't that give him horrible gas?"

"Her," he said quietly, "and it's the only food she really likes that isn't raw meat. It's better for her if we're traveling."

Belinda smiled again and said, "I knew you weren't from around here. I know most everyone, seeing as how there's only about 500 people lives around here. Where are you going?"

"Not far," O'Ryan said, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, and fighting to keep his eyes on her face, "we should be in Peoria in a couple of hours."

"I'd like to be able to go on car trips," she said, "I have to work so much that I feel like I never get to leave."

O'Ryan almost said something but was shocked when she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table across from him, her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. The way she was leaning, he could tell that her breasts were being pressed together by her arms, and it took more effort than ever to keep his attention on the part of her body that was speaking.

"But my life is boring," she said, "tell me about yours."

"Don't you have people who you need to help?" He asked, feeling himself start to blush.

"It's OK," she said, flashing that smile again, "the lunch rush is over, and if they need more coffee, they'll let me know. Besides, you're the only person in the room I haven't talked to every day for most of my life. I'm curious. We don't get a lot of people coming through town."

O'Ryan weighed how much he could tell her in his mind. Nitti always told him that what he did was to be kept quiet, that way the police didn't find out about it. On the other hand, the people in his neighborhood seemed to be proud of the fact that they had one of Nitti's men with them, and Nitti's boss, Mr. Capone, was a hero. The police and the government didn't like him, but everyone else seemed to.

There was also the fact that he wanted to talk to this pretty girl, she had told him that she wanted to talk to him too, but the only thing he could really talk to her was about his work.

As happened with most men before him, the desire to talk to a pretty girl won out.

"My boss sent me down here to check on his business. One of his other employees is having trouble and I'm to clear that trouble up."

"That sounds interesting. What does your boss do?"

He was going to tell her that he couldn't say, but her heaving bosom caused him to forget that he shouldn't talk about what he did.

"He supplies...well, he works in..." O'Ryan frowned, trying to find a way to say it so that he wouldn't be in trouble if this pretty girl worked for the police and was trying to get information from him. "He gets agricultural goods from downstate to people in Chicago who want them," and he was all at once proud of the fact that he had figured out a way to give the pretty girl the information without being in trouble.

Belinda looked at him a bit puzzled and then said, "I see. You aren't really allowed to talk about what you do. Most people use a lot of big words when they are either trying to impress someone or keep something secret. You must be keeping something secret, since there is really no reason to impress a farm girl who works in a diner."

O'Ryan looked a bit sheepish and said, "Yes, my boss would be very unhappy if I let people know what I was doing."

"That's ok," she said, "I understand. I'll let you finish up."

She stood up and started to talk away. O'Ryan felt like he had messed up somehow, chasing her away with his trying to be clever and secret when she turned around and said, "It's OK that you keep your secrets. You're too handsome to be a bad guy." She smiled at him again and went into the kitchen.

O'Ryan finished his meal quickly after that, worried that she might come out and talk to him again, and he might do something that would make her think that he wasn't handsome or was a bad guy. When he was done, he paid for the meal and left a large tip, but didn't see Belinda anywhere in the kitchen.

Outside, he gave held up the small container that Mercy's meal was in and together they walked back to the car. When he got there, he saw that Belinda was waiting inside the gas station with the teenage boy, sitting on a chair next to his small counter. O'Ryan went in to pay, and before he could say anything, she said, "You treat him good, Carl." She looked from the teenager to O'Ryan and said, "He's my brother. We run the shop while dad farms. I have to work over at the diner so we can keep up the payments on the farm. Not everyone gets a job where they get to travel."

Carl looked over the bill he'd written up and gave O'Ryan the cost of the gas, and told him that he had needed a quart of oil, which he'd put in. O'Ryan thanked him and didn't take his eyes off of Belinda's face.

If she was uncomfortable that he was staring, she didn't show it as she said, "Do you have to be in Peoria right away, or do you have a little bit of time?"

"Why?" O'Ryan said, without answering her question.

"Well," she started, "I could be all coy and such, but I was wanted to walk with you and see if I could talk to you a bit about something other than your job."

"You are awfully..." O'Ryan paused, a bit confused by her actions, "Forward."

A giggle escaped her mouth, "Ain't I though? I wanted to show you something here in town. Come on with me. Bring the puppy too."

And with that, she walked out of the office not even looking at him, as if she was perfectly confident that he would come along. O'Ryan smile a bit at the thought of something thinking that all one hundred and eighty pounds of Mercy could still be called a puppy, but he saw that Mercy was ready to follow her as she walked pasty the car and started down the street. O'Ryan left, walking quickly to catch up with her.

From the main street, he could actually see that the end of town was less than 10 blocks away. He had never seen a town this small, and even the town in New Hampshire near the home was bigger than this. When he caught up with her, she said, "Good, I didn't want to have to go to the post office by myself."

"What were you going to show me there?" O'Ryan said.

"I was thinking that you liked watching me walk so much at the diner that you'd want to see it some more."

O'Ryan blushed again and started to slow down, thinking that she was going to be mad at him for ogling her when she said, "You are way too serious. I was teasing you, silly bear. And it was pretty obvious that you were staring at me. You don't strike me as someone rude, so I thought you had to like me. I don't get a lot of people liking me, so I thought I'd back in it a little bit. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," O'Ryan said, relieved that she wasn't mad, "I am sorry that I took advantage of you with my eyes, though. I tried not to."

She laughed at that, "'take advantage of you with my eyes'? You sound like a preacher man. And I know you aren't one of those, unless you bring the word of God through the barrel of a gun. Relax, we're just walked to the post office."

The street was empty, and there were no cars on it, or other people. The street was lined on either side with small one or two story home that had the look of being tired. The town almost looked deserted. O'Ryan asked, "Where is everyone?"

"It's spring," Belinda started, "So most everyone is either working in the field to get the crops in. The kids are in school or working in the fields too. The town is going to be pretty empty for the next few weeks. Those that ain't working in the field are working in Galesburg at one of the businesses there. There are days it feels like my brother and me are the only ones in town. Gets a bit crazy. If it weren't for the romance magazines, I think I might go crazy."

"I didn't know that people lived like this. Living in towns this small and then going far away to work."

"This town is pretty lucky. We don't have a meat packing plant near here, so the jobs people get that aren't working as farmhands are in the new factory in Galesburg. I read how bad it was to work in the slaughterhouses and I just don't know how anyone can let that sort of thing happen. Still, the people here work just as long on their farms. I think them putting headlights on tractors was the worst idea ever, since now the people what's go them feel that they can stay up all night working to get the crops in or taking them out in the fall.

"But I'm babbling on, aren't I?" She said, looked over at O'Ryan, "What can you tell me about your job?"

"You wouldn't want to hear it. It's not like what I used to do back home."

She looked at him quizzically, "Home? You don't live in Chicago?"

"I do now," He said, "But I used to live out east. It was a big home where a bunch of us lived, and we grew our own food, studied and worked. Some of the people made wooden furniture that they sold in the city, but I was never any good at it. Other people could look at a big block of wood and see a table or a chair or a stool. I just saw a block of wood. I'm not a very creative person, I guess."

She frowned, "I don't believe that. It takes creativity to train a dog as well as you have. I saw how she just sat outside the diner until you were done, and she pays attention to everything you do. I haven't seen a dog that is so well behaved in my whole life."

"Mercy?" he said, a smile coming to his face, "She's smart enough that I didn't have to do a lot of work with her. She wants to make her alpha happy."

"Alpha?"

"Yeah, the leader dog. Dogs are pack animals, and they are born knowing that they have to do what the leader or alpha of the pack makes them do. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to hunt successfully. When people take care of them, they think that the human in the alpha, if they've been trained, and they just do what the alpha tells them."

"OK, you may not be creative, but you sure are a damn sight smarter than anyone I've talked to. You know what else?"

"What?" O'Ryan said, turning to look at her again.

"We've been talking for five whole minutes and you haven't tried to sneak a peek at my chest the whole time.

O'Ryan blushed and started to apologize again and she giggled and ran ahead of him to the post office. He caught up with her and saw it was a very small, brick building that had had the brink painted over with a sickly yellow paint, giving the whole building a ugliness that stood out among all the houses that were painted white and made of wood.

Before O'Ryan could say anything, she looked at him, with a mischievous look on her face and went into the post office, almost spinning past the opened door. O'Ryan stayed outside, not knowing if he should go in or not. She emerged less than a minute later, carrying a pair of letters, which she quickly stuffed into one of the pockets of her dress.

She walked up to him and said, "Do you really have to go today? I'd like it if you could stay to supper and spend the evening with me and my brother in the parlor. We have a very good radio, and there's sure to be a good show on it tonight. Maybe even a show with dancing music."

O'Ryan was torn. He knew he had to meet with his contact tonight, but he wanted so much to stay and spend the evening with this girl.

"How far are you from Peoria? How long will it take me to drive?" he asked.

She frowned, "About three hours. Why?"

O'Ryan sighed, "I can't. I have to meet someone tonight, and I will need to find a place to stay too, since we're going to be there for a few day."

"You're sure?" she said, sounding much younger than she looked.

O'Ryan stared at the ground as he walked, "Yes. If I don't meet with this man, I will be breaking my word, and I can't do that for anyone. No matter how pretty she is."

Belinda smiled, "You think I'm pretty. I got you to say it!"

"You didn't get me to say anything," O'Ryan said, a bit irritated, knowing he wasn't tricked.

"That's what YOU think," she said. Then, she took off running, giggling as she did.

O'Ryan laughed and took off after her and chased her back to the car, where she beat him by just a few steps. She leaned against the car and was trying to catch her breath, while O'Ryan was barely breathing hard. He hadn't even run very fast so that he could chase her all the way. It was like the games of tag he had played as a child, but he had never played any games with a girl. It was odd, and he felt excited, embarrassed and confused all at the same time.

"Take me with you," Belinda said between gasps of air.

"What?" O'Ryan said, confusion winning over the other emotions.

"Take me with you. I want to go with you. If you have to go away, I want to go too."

O'Ryan felt a wave of sadness wash over him that was almost as big as the one that had overwhelmed him while driving and remembering his past, "Belinda..."

She perked up and said, "Ooo! Say that again?!"

"Say what?"

"My name! Say my name again!"

"Belinda," he said, warily.

"Yep. Goosebumps. Just like in the romance magazines."

She smiled and leaned against the car, not seeming to care if she got her dress dirty. O'Ryan was very confused at this point and said, "The work I have to do is dangerous. And I don't think your father would like it if you just ran away from home."

"I'm sick of home. I'm sick of these people and working in a diner and having to worry about if we can pay the bank another month for our house. I want to get away. And I want to spend more time talking to you, O'Ryan."

As he heard her say his name, he understood what she meant about the goose bumps and he could feel them break out on his skin as she said his name.

Before she could say anything else, he stopped her by saying, "Don't ever say that about your home. Home is an important thing, and if you leave, it may not be there when you get back. Some people don't have a home, or a place to be where it is quiet enough to walk down the street with your thoughts."

She started to look upset and then said, with a crack in her voice, "Will you at least stay here and have a soda with me?"

O'Ryan looked at Mercy, who was laying at his feet, head on her paws and her eyes closed. The only time she closed her eyes was when she knew there was no danger at all anywhere around her. He looked at his watch and saw that he had most of the afternoon still and said, "Yes, I can stay for a soda."

At that point she hugged him, and he felt her body against his. She said, "Good! Then I can talk you into taking me," the crack in her voice betraying her, letting him know that she knew that soon he would leave. Alone.

And that was the only thing that got the feeling of her chest smashed up against him out of his mind. Even so, it only chased that thought out of his mind for a few moment.

©Solitaire Rose Productions 2003

Back to the main page