Chapter 5: The Sun Brings Light

Jason stayed near Carla at all times. He didn't do this because he had thought her lost to him and was afraid to be risk losing her again (which he was). He didn't stay at her side because he had lost all of his family, save his sister. Jason stayed near Carla because she had lost her whole family. He was all that she had left, and Jason was determined to be there for her.

When she wanted to talk, he was there to listen. When Carla needed to cry, Jason was at her side. When she mourned in the Yethan Fashion, he was there to hold her until it past.

There had been no conscious decision to neglect his sister. Gwen knew this and did not complain. She knew that Carla's need was greater. Gwen also knew that she couldn't accept comfort from her brother until she could comfort his grief in return.

Jason's grief was twisted up in his rage at the murderers and his shame of what he had done in the park. Even if her younger brother could disentangle his emotions, he wouldn't allow himself to show weakness while Carla needed him to be strong.

Gwen kept herself busy by helping to care for Mr. Marcetti. His injury was healing very slowly, and Dr. Calvin feared that if he didn't recover quickly, Anthony Marcetti would weaken and die. His son was at Mr. Marcetti's bedside constantly, and he and Gwen spent an increasing amount of time talking. Eddie Marcetti never lost his sense of humor and Gwen took comfort in his strength. Gwen was an unwavering source of light in Eddie's darkest hour, and he took comfort in her strength.

Teresa Marcetti came to see her husband as often as she could, but she had three children to look after, and could not be there as often as she wanted. She too found comfort in Gwen Bryant's strength. She sorely needed strength for she feared that her husband would soon be dead.

It had been four days since the battle of Highway 11. Mr. Marcetti still showed no sign of regaining consciousness, and his skin had taken on a wasted, parchment pallor. It was seven O'clock and Eddie was having dinner while sitting his vigil.

"Well Dad, it's official." Eddie spoke to his father with a cheerful smile on his face. "Ballistics confirms that you got three of the five bad guys. Rodger and me only got one apiece. But then, you always were a better shot." Eddie turned to Gwen. "Thank you again for sitting with my father Miss Bryant."

"I'm happy to do it. Your father was injured helping my brother and me. This is the least I can do in repayment." Eddie's smile was contagious. "And what is this 'Miss Bryant' talk. You told me to call you Eddie, and I can't call you by your Christian name if you won't call me by mine."

"Well, if you're going to make a fuss about it, Miss Gwen, I'll try to remember to use your first name." Both were grinning now.

"Miss Gwen is it?" Gwen asked, trying for mock anger. "Okay Mister Ed. We'll do it your way."

"You think I'm a horse?"

"Only the back end." The laughter started then. It continued for nearly a minute. Then, Gwen noticed Jason and Carla standing in the door.

"We didn't mean to interrupt..." Jason spoke, alarm written across his face.

"You didn't little brother." Gwen assured him. "What do you need?"

"Reverend Rice owns a couple of acres of woods behind the house." Jason began. "Carla and I asked him if we could take a walk there, since the likelihood of anybody seeing us would be very slim."

"Especially now that it's getting dark." Carla added.

"The Reverend said that it was okay with him, but that we needed to ask you."

"Who's going with you?"

"Well, Carla is, like I said."

"No, I mean who is going to act as your chaperone?"

"Why would we need a chaperone?" Jason asked perplexed and a little angry. "It wouldn't be our first trip in the woods you know. I know that you are three years older than me, but I am old enough to cross the street on my own."

"You won't be on your own." Gwen spoke, gesturing to Carla. "And there are a lot of things you're old enough to do. I just don't want you doing any of those things at the wrong time, or for the wrong reason. So, it's best to eliminate the temptation." Gwen knew that her brother wasn't stupid, but he was surprisingly naïve at times.

Carla realized what Gwen meant first. Her eyes went wide with shock. Her expression quickly became angry. "She thinks that we mean to sneak out back and... and consummate our relationship."

"I don't think you plan anything of the sort." Gwen said hastily. "I say only that in your state of mind, you might do something on impulse that you would later regret."

The pair looked angry a moment longer. Then the anger was driven out by understanding. It was still fascinating to Gwen to see how synchronized in thought Jason and Carla were.

"I'm sorry Gwen." They spoke together. The only difference was that Jason said "Sis" instead of "Gwen".

"Think nothing of it." Gwen answered lightly. "None of us is feeling ourselves."

"We'll ask Agent Butler to act as our chaperone." Carla said.

"Thanks for looking out for us Sis." Jason added, as they left the room.

Both Reverend Rice and Agent Butler were busily typing at their computers when Carla and Jason went to find them. The Reverend was finishing his sermon for the next day. The G-man was sifting through a flood of information, hoping to find a nugget of data that would help catch the cultists. The teenagers saw that they were busy, and decided to leave without bothering them. Carla and Jason turned, but before they could leave, Reverend Rice looked up from his computer screen and spoke.

"What did your sister say to your request?" He asked.

"She said that we needed someone to go with us, and keep us out of trouble." There was no bitterness or even resignation in Jason's voice. He was more than a little embarrassed by the possibility that the preacher would know exactly why his sister wanted him and Carla to be escorted. Like all of Jason's emotions, this one was written across his face. George simply nodded.

"I expected as much." The preacher said. "Who is to be your escort?"

"We don't wish to trouble anyone." Jason said. It would not be fair, in his estimation, to ask anyone to abandon their tasks to baby sit Carla and him. Carla squeezed his hand in agreement.

"If I may have an hour to finish my sermon for the morning, I would be happy to act as your guide." For an instant, the two children looked surprised. Then their expressions became smiles of joy. George had expected to get escort duty. He knew that Yethan children liked to be cooped up even less than human ones. He had hoped that Mr. Marcetti would have recovered before cabin fever sat in. That way none of the Yethans would have to sit a vigil, and they could have all taken a walk together.

"Thank you Reverend!" Both youngsters said gleefully before leaving the room to let Reverend Rice get back to his work.

It warmed George's heart to give a little happiness to his guests in their darkest hour. They needed all the help they could get. Reverend Rice prayed that God would allow them some good news soon, and that he would protect them from their enemies.

Robert Butler continued to work through the short conversation. The agent hadn't deliberately eaves dropped on the talk, but he had heard, and would remember. His neatly compartmentalized mind was occupied with three tasks.

Agent Butler was scanning Interpol records. He had scanned the local and State cases that matched the MO of the C.R.F. and was now doing the same with records from other countries. He would send a report along with the raw data to Langley. The information would not only help clear young Mr. Bryant, but would help to focus national (and international) attention on the murderous cult that had been hunting and killing innocents since the dawn of the twentieth century at least.

He was also checking local crime reports for Marion and the surrounding area. The C.R.F. had been careful in all of the big ways. The company that rented the 4x4s didn't exist. The weapons captured at the park and on the highway had been mainly of Eastern European origin, and difficult to trace. The few weapons of Western design had been stolen or had their serial numbers removed. The ID documents found in the SUV in the park had been espionage quality forgeries. Robert hoped that they had slipped up in some small way. It would be a tiny crack in their perfect façade where the FBI could shove a proverbial pry bar and set to tearing the whole thing down.

Robert Butler wasn't aware of his third task, as such. His mind absorbed information of its own accord, and he was unconsciously compiling a mental file on the fascinating beings that he was protecting. He noted that they had incredible strength and agility of course. Their senses were also far above human norm. Butler noted, with some envy, that the Yethans (he had heard the name used by the doctor and the preacher) needed only an hour or two of sleep each day. They seemed to be nocturnal in nature and seemed even stronger, faster and more capable in the hours of darkness.

Their dietary requirements were likewise intriguing. They ate and enjoyed normal food, but they seemed unable to derive nourishment from it. Mammalian blood was their only sustenance. It could be refrigerated to keep it from spoiling, but the Yethans preferred their blood fresh and warm.

Butler's mind was speeding down the three separate paths when he saw the report of the abandoned Toyota sedan. The car had been found in Marion. It was well maintained, and its tags and decals were up to date. The Marion police had had no luck in contacting the car's owner; Isaac Remington of Decatur, Illinois. It might be nothing, but Robert Butler would look into it.

Job Taylor's dwindling command ditched the bullet damaged rental vehicles near Emory. They likewise disposed of any weapons that could not be easily concealed. Then, they split up in ones and twos to follow separate routes to the only safe house they knew of in the area.

It had taken more than seventy-two hours for everyone to make their way to the large, old house in Radford. Jack Garrison and Winston Kirkwood were the last of the original force to arrive. The two Brits had gotten confused by the fact that there were two towns named Blacksburg in Southwestern Virginia. They completed the last leg of their journey by taxi.

In addition to the five surviving members of Isaac Remington's hunting force, the house now held fifteen hunters from Central Europe and the Balkans. Another five hunters (these from Italy) were scheduled to arrive before midnight.

Job had to admit (to himself at least) that he was glad to have been relieved of command of the new hunting force. The new commander was Paul Wilhelm Herzog. Herr Herzog was a member of the International Council of Elders. He had been dispatched to take command of the Bryant operation for two reasons. He was a Bundeswehr veteran, and the Council wanted this situation dealt with NOW. The fact that Herr (well Oberst Leutnant, retired) Herzog had his picture and fingerprints on file where the misguided masses might have access to them, meant that he would not be able to participate directly in the attack. Still, he would marshal the intelligence resources at the Circle's disposal to find the enemy's hiding place and plan the assault when it was found.

The dining room had been transformed into Herzog's command center. The table was scattered with maps and charts. There were three computer work stations, several encrypted phones, and a battery of LCD televisions tuned to the major networks and CNN. At the moment, the amerikanisch verrater Higgins was being interviewed again. Now, he had another swinehund helping him, a sallow lump of dough named William Osler.

Paul Herzog was not happy with the task he had been given. That Higgins was stirring up publicity that the Circle did not need or want. It didn't matter to Herzog that the two surviving monsters were being increasingly seen as heroes. Amerikaners raised and discarded heroes like Kleenex. What troubled Paul was the talk of a 'cult' that had begun to circulate.

The ignorant masses could be a dangerous and unpredictable force when pushed to overcome their ingrained sloth by fear. Herzog had little faith in the common man. After all, the fearful, stupid masses had been instrumental in raising that deranged Austrian corporal to power.

The retired colonel thought it would be better to let the two remaining demons escape for the time being. The FBI would lose interest when another big case came along, and the fickle masses would seek another cause of the day if this one ceased to produce entertaining pictures of carnage.

Of course, Oberst Leutnant Herzog had been ordered to destroy the two remaining demons. Good soldiers followed orders. Paul Herzog was a good soldier.

Joshua Remington wasn't a soldier, good or otherwise. He had been ordered to keep a low profile and stay home. He was on Interstate 57, heading to Nashville. From there he would take Interstate 40, then Interstate 81 to Marion.

His grief and rage were tearing him up inside. Joshua had helped his father kill a total of eleven demons. He never thought that his dad would die at the hands of the cowardly vermin. Joshua was determined to hunt down and destroy the thing that had murdered his father. He would give Jason Bryant a taste of God's Justice.

Ralph Higgins had been working the interview circuit since the Battle of Highway 11. Many of the news programs had been kind enough to interview the teen at home, so that he wouldn't miss school. It was Saturday now; Ralph was in New York and had spent the morning being interviewed for live television morning shows. He would do the same tomorrow. Tonight, He was scheduled to appear on a late night talk show. He had spent the afternoon napping, and was getting dressed, when the phone rang. There was an extension in the bathroom.

"Hello?"

"Hello Mr. Higgins. This is Special Agent Butler."

"Hello Agent Butler!" Ralph was happy to hear from the grim FBI agent. He struck Ralph as a man of few words, and he expected that he had to be calling about a development in the case. "How can I help you sir."

"I am faxing you a picture from the Illinois DMV. I know that you didn't see the attackers, but Mr. Osler did. I would send it to his room, but his phone is busy and has been for the last hour."

"I'll get the fax and take it to Mr. Osler sir. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Yes, please ask Mr. Osler to contact me as soon as he has seen the picture. My cell number is on the fax."

"Yes sir Agent Butler."

"Good luck with your television appearance Mr. Higgins."

"Thank you sir, I hope y'all have good luck catching these cultists."

William Osler had never stayed in a really nice hotel. He was far from rich, though he made enough money to support his family. Now, he was staying at the Waldorf Astoria, courtesy of Reginald and Beatrice Higgins.

The Mayor of Tupelo had not supported his son during the first two days of his campaign to clear the name of Jason Bryant. Once Ralph had mustered a large degree of popular support, the mayor and his wife came to the boy's aid. Will found their conduct reprehensible, but young Ralph seemed to take the whole thing in stride.

As much as he found himself disliking Reginald and Beatrice Higgins, he was their guest at this hotel and he was going to be frugal and sensible with their generosity. They insisted that he and Ralph eat their meals at the Astoria (They didn't want their son mugged or worse while trying to find a restaurant). Will had forgone breakfast and attacked the studio craft table for lunch. He was pleased to see that Ralph was equally responsible with his parent's money. The only difference being that he ordered a light breakfast.

"Mom'll check to make sure I'm getting three meals a day." He had told Will. "I don't want to worry her."

Will was just as frugal with the hotels other services. 'I can polish my own shoes thank you.' He thought. When he needed to make a phone call home, Will used the pay phone in the lobby. He probably could have called collect on the phone in his room, but he didn't want to risk doing it wrong, and the Higgins' getting a long distance bill.

He had just made such a call. He had talked to his wife and two children for nearly an hour. When he realized what time it was Will had been forced to end the call abruptly. He would have to hurry to meet Ralph for dinner before the studio sent the car for them.

William found Ralph in the hall, outside of his suite. The youth refused to use a wheel chair, insisting that he could get along on his crutches.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Osler said.

"That's okay sir." The teen answered politely. "Agent Butler sent you this fax. He said that your phone was busy and that you should contact him as soon as you have looked at the picture." Ralph handed Mr. Osler the fax. He saw the man's eyes go wide with surprise and recognition.

"Go on down to the dinning room Ralph." Will said. "Order your food, and get the same for me. I'll be down as soon as I talk to Agent Butler."

The teen went on his way, and Will went into his room. He didn't know how his phone had gotten off of the hook. He hadn't used it once, but he was going to use it now. The FBI agent had one of those cell phones that were non long distance anywhere in the continental United States. Besides this was official business and William didn't have time to run to the pay phone if he was going to get some dinner tonight.

The phone picked up on the first ring.

"Special Agent Butler." Butler answered.

"Hello Agent Butler. This is Will Osler. I've looked at the picture you sent. I don't know how you did it, but he is definitely the fellow who was looking for Jason Bryant in Marion."

"You would testify to that fact?"

"Yes sir." William said enthusiastically. "I hope that this means you can catch these people soon."

"We will do your best, but when we do catch them, it will be as much due to the help of citizens like yourself as to our efforts." Butler said in what for him was a warm tone. "Thank you."

The phone call was still in progress when Herzog's intelligence team found the repeater station that the cell phone was using. 'Borrowing' two more stations enabled them to triangulate the signal source. Planting bugs on phones of people that might talk to the enemy had been fairly simple. Oberst Leutnant Herzog wondered why his predecessor had not thought of it.

"Herr Durov." Herzog called to one of his subordinates. "Go to the VPI airport. There iss a pilot there who serves the Circle. Haaf him fly you to..." Herzog checked the map. "Rural Retreat. Photograph the area east of town und return mit the pictures." Yuri Durov nodded once and departed. "Herr Ploiescu, Take your forged press credentials und scout the area of the transmission. Try to find the precise origin of the Zignal." The small Romanian likewise left on his mission. "Jung, Mitterling, und Vogel vill establish a forward headquarters in Speedvell."

"Ve haaf them now." Jung opined. Paul Herzog could not bring himself to share his subordinate's optimism. There was still a great deal that could go wrong with the operation. The fact that one of the hunters had been identified was proof of that.

Jason and Carla walked hand in hand through the woods. Reverend Rice followed a little behind them. The two Yethan teenagers were grateful for the Reverend's hospitality and protection, but they had been trapped indoors for four days. They had felt stifled and the walls had seemed to be closing in.

Now they could feel the earth under their feet and the wind on their faces. They could smell the living woods instead of stale, recycled air. Both Carla and Jason longed to run through the wooded lot and embrace the sweet night, but Reverend Rice would never have been able to keep up. Jason's mind reached out and he felt four bobcats in the area. They were on their nightly hunts. Jason wished them luck. He felt the instinctive pull to seek prey. Jason knew that Carla was feeling the same primordial imperative, but now was neither the time nor place to answer it.

Carla looked into Jason's eyes. She could see the love there. Her 'Tiger' had lost much, but he had not allowed the pain he felt to stop him from being there for her. She wanted very much to kiss him, but she didn't wish to offend the Reverend.

"I think I'll check on my bee hives." Reverend Rice said. "I'll just be a moment." With that, the elderly preacher took a branching trail. Carla sat her right hand on Jason's shoulder. They had a moment before the Reverend would return and she meant to take advantage.