Chapter 3

DAY ONE, BOULDER, COLORADO, MORNING

"Hey, Mom... Mom?? MO-omm!!" Caitlin hollered at her mother, "He's alive! Old Fart is alive!" Deirdre, her twin sister, just giggled.

"Caitlin Renee O'Shaughnessy, who is Old Fart? Watch your language! How do you know he's alive, and who is he?" asked Muireann Renee O'Shaughnessy, a slightly smaller 'mom' version of the twins.

Both of the twins were red haired, lightly freckled, 5'10" in height, and about 140 pounds each in weight. 'Blessed' with high intelligence, and perverse senses of humor, the twins were often more than she could handle. While similar to the twins she was only 5'3" at almost 120 pounds. She was also a little darker of complexion and with heavier freckling. From the age of 12, her daughters were constantly telling her that she was the black sheep of the family. All the rest of the family were of lighter complexion, and were much taller. Now they were twenty, but were still tormenting her.

Deirdre and Caitlin responded in unison, as they were so apt to do, "The crossing guard."

"Back when we lived in Golden." finished Caitlin. "Don't you remember? We used to torment him so much!"

"Why are you so excited about that guy, he must be sixty some odd years old by now, and you still haven't answered my question as to how you know?" their mom asked.

Deirdre, her green eyes flashing, responded, "Mom, if he was dead, both of us would feel it inside. Both of us would know. We called him on the phone. When he answered, we hung up. We just wanted to confirm he was still around, as both of us have always felt that someday he was going to be very important to us. Mom, he may be in his sixties, but just like you and Dr. Porter, he will probably look a lot younger, now. Caitlin and I need to see him again. When can we go find him? We want to discuss this with you. We've already talked about it. Most everybody else is dead. We need and want this man in our lives."

Muireann thought for a moment as Deirdre usually wasn't the outspoken twin, normally she was the quieter twin, but seemed to be the one that was the planner and more rational thinker of the two. "Okay, we'll go find him. I'll get with Dr. Porter and Amos when they get back looking for the new motor home for us. As soon as they get here, we will plan it out."

The twins looked at each other, grinned and in unison, "Thanks, Mom."

DAY ONE, NEAR GOLDEN, EVENING

Marc looked forward to getting home and seeing what the other two mutts had been up to. Maybe he'd even grill a couple of steaks outdoors before he had to wrap and prepare all the meat that was in the back of the pickup. He just grinned to himself.

He just grinned to himself, "Going to be a might fine feast tonight, even if I don't have anyone to share it with."

At that thought, for the first time in forty years, a few tears escaped his eyes. He wiped the few tears away with his hand.

He thought, "I am actually lonely and want somebody to talk too, and share this place with me. I never thought I would want that."

He turned off Rte 46 onto Rte119 heading towards Gilpin. He realized that there were no lights shining anywhere. Even the crossroads lights weren't on. As he approached his turnoff, he could see that the lights around his place were on. Even being a half-mile off the road, he could see his lights clearly. The cabin and buildings setting up on the mountainside were even easily visible during the day.

"Thank God I was smart enough to install backup power and extra lighting. It won't be hard getting this stuff packed in the house and back out to the barn. At least, I'll be able to see."

Marc pulled around the front of the cabin. He was heading towards the rear porch and the kitchen. Both dogs in the truck started barking, and Marc looked towards the front porch. For the second time that day, he slammed on the brakes. The dogs went crashing onto the dash, and started whining.

There was a third lump on the front porch of the cabin, a big lump. Marc just stared for a couple seconds. He didn't see any movement except the Basenji coming up to the staircase. The Basenji started chortling or growling.

Marc opened the truck door and started walking towards the porch. The two dogs shot past him, and bounded up onto the porch, heading towards the large lump. The loud growl from the wolf stopped both of them. The Basenji just walked around the two of them, and lay down right next to the lump.

As he walked closer, Marc realized that the lump was human. Climbing the stairs, he thought it appeared to be a young boy. Then, as he walked closer, he knew that this was a young girl. Or so she appeared to be, with her short pageboy style haircut. It was blonde, streaked, and appeared to be a mess. Marc kneeled down in front of her and shook her gently, not wanting to scare her.

"Ma'am... Ma'am? Hello?"

There was no response except for the damn wolf growling even louder. Marc turned towards the wolf looking it directly in the eyes.

"You and I are going to have a short conversation, and a long understanding in a few minutes."

The wolf looked away from Marc but kept on growling, even lifting his lips showing his fangs as Marc reached under the girl and picked her up. She seemed very small and light. Marc hooked his fingers into the screen door and pulled it open. As he edged towards the front door handle, her head fell into the crook of his neck. Her warm breath teased his neck. The beginnings of a swelling in his pants shocked Marc, and he almost dropped her. He shifted her weight to a knee and propped her shoulder to the doorframe.

He reached for the handle turning it and as the door opened, the three dogs crowded past him and he again almost dropped her. He turned his head looking toward the screen door and saw the wolf wriggling through it too. "Shit, this place is going to get crowded."

Marc carried the girl into the spare bedroom placing her on the bed. He stepped back and took a good look.

"Young, must be around seventeen, hair a mess, dirty, and smelly. Nice package," he said with his slightly perverted sense of humor.

He noticed her beginning to shiver, and reached down to the foot of the bed. He got the two blankets unfolded, and spread them over her. The Basenji jumped up on the bed, and lay beside the girl.

"Oh well, your smell isn't any worse than hers. But that is the last time you jump on a bed or my furniture."

The Basenji just ignored him. The other two dogs just lay by the bed.

Marc shook his head and headed back into the large living room to turn the heat up. During the day, he normally kept the temperature on sixty, and just wore a button down or open sweater around the house. Far cheaper that way. The damned utility companies could just go whistle Dixie before he would ever turn the temperature up. Well, except for this. Nothing else he could do for her right now.

The low whine of the wolf got his attention. There were blood splotches from the door to where the wolf had collapsed. Quite wary of the wolf, Marc kneeled down. He took the wolf's right forepaw in his hand, and lifted it up. Half of the wolf's claws and pad were gone, and the stub with partial pad was swollen and bloody. He lowered the paw to the floor, and got up. He went into the kitchen where he got out an old white enameled dishpan. He filled it with lukewarm water, grabbed a couple towels, and placed it beside the wolf. He went into the bathroom, and returned with a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Once again returning to the kitchen, he got out an old saucepan and a jar of honey.

Marc dropped back down and lifted the wolf's forepaw over the dishpan. He started cleaning the wound by squeezing water from one of the towels he had soaked, moments ago. Some of dirt, pus, and blood softened, and started dripping into the pan. He then started wiping the top of the pad and then the bottom of the pad. Even more of the dirt and blood fell into the pan. The wolf jerked the paw back, when the towel scraped across the front damage on its forepaw. Marc got a hold of the leg and lifted it up. Looking carefully, he couldn't see anything. He poured the hydrogen peroxide directly onto the damaged area, and held it still.

'Yes, a glint of steel, or metal of some sort, ' Marc thought.

He got up, and went back to the kitchen. Marc returned with needle nose pliers and scissors. He lifted the foreleg up again and gently placed the pliers on the piece of metal. He gripped firmly, and gave a strong yank. The wolf growled and jerked the leg back but Marc had a good grip on the metal piece. The pus and blood shot out of it. Marc again poured the hydrogen peroxide on it, and waited for it to stop fizzling. He then poured another flow of peroxide over it. This fizzled again, but a lot less.

After it stopped fizzling, Marc gently squeezed down on the damaged pad again, and only a small amount of debris came out. The whole time, Marc could hear the low growling of the wolf.

"Just about done, Old Boy, just about done," Marc said, and with that, the wolf quieted.

Marc poured the entire contents of the jar of honey into the saucepan. Tilting it, Marc stuck the remnants of the wolf's forepaw into it. He took the last towel and tore two strips along one side. He wrapped the paw, and then tied it with the strips.

"Old Boy, that's as good as I can do for you." Marc then realized that it was a good name and then decided that was what he was going to call the wolf.

There was nothing further to do for the girl or the wolf. He finally had time to relax. Marc rose up on one knee and realized he was looking out the big bay window, directly at his pickup trucks headlights.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt!!! I forgot all about the pickup! All that meat has to be taken care of! I guess this is still Shit Day."

Marc walked out on the front porch and started grinning even in 'light' of the situation. The pickup's door was still open, its engine was running, and the lights were on. At least he'd had the sense to put it in neutral and set the hand brake. He walked down to the truck and drove it around back, so that he could enter the rear screen porch, and go directly into the kitchen.

As he unloaded the pickup, he noticed a slight buzzing in his head. It was almost as if someone was whispering, just beneath the threshold of understanding.

'Just something else to go wrong, ' he thought.

Then suddenly it stopped. He thought back and knew that several times in the last couple of hours he had felt it, but just hadn't acknowledged it.

Three and a half hours later he finished the wrapping of the last of the meat. He looked down at all the dogs lying around the kitchen. He had been surprised they really hadn't bothered him. Well, at least something was going right. Another hour later, the meat had been placed into the different freezers in the house and out in the barn.

He shut off the kitchen light and noticed that it was 1:22 AM in the morning. As he walked through the living room he saw that the wolf was gone. He flicked out the light, passed the bathroom, and peered into the second bedroom. Sure enough, the wolf was lying on the bed on the other side of the girl, licking at the wrapping on its foreleg. Old Boy wasn't really tearing at it, so it should be okay until morning. The Basenji was on the other side of the girl with the other two mutts lying on the floor.

Marc entered his bedroom and undressed, throwing everything onto the old bamboo rocker in the corner. As he pulled the covers back, the two mutts padded in and lay down beside the bed.

"Oh, so this is how it is going to be? Two for me and two for the girl? Maybe this isn't Shit Day after all, maybe its just Day One."

And with that last thought rolled over and fell promptly asleep.

Day Two, Boulder, Extreme Early Hours

However, everybody was not asleep. Caitlin and Deirdre were still arguing with their mom about going and finding their 'Old Fart'.

Finally, Muireann slammed her small fist on the table.

"Enough is enough. Three hours ago, you came running to get me, hollering about some female being with your precious Old Fart. What is it with you two? I know you're both slightly nuts, but never before this nutty? Your mad that he is excited about her, and then you tell me no, it's his other side, his soft side coming out. A few minutes later, it's somebody or something else his soft side is with. I know you two can feel things, and can connect mentally or emotionally with somebody you don't even know; but I have never seen you two this worked up like this. Even so, we are not going to go looking for him tonight."

"We will discuss this tomorrow morning with Dr. Porter and Amos, just like I said. I know they got back late, because her car broke down and they had to find another one with keys in it. They are tired, and they went to bed. Now I am tired, and I am going to bed."

She turned to walk away, and then stopped and turned back to face them, "This means you two go to bed. You are not to leave this house and go looking for him. Do you both understand?"

Deirdre responded, "Mom, we can't go looking for him, he's not broadcasting anymore. I guess he went to sleep." Caitlin nodded her head in agreement.

"Wait. Both of you sit back down. What is this broadcasting? You can actually feel someone's mind from so far away?" Muireann said, and sat back down.

Caitlin looked at Deirdre and started, "Mom, ever since that golden stuff started coming down, we noticed these feelings and connections getting stronger and stronger. We don't even have to try to open our minds to these emotions, feelings... and, yeah Mom, even thoughts every now and then." Deirdre then spoke up, "Some people we don't want to hear, or feel the thoughts of. We have to close that portion in our mind. But others, like you, Mom; and Dr. Porter, and Amos, and the babies... and yes, Old Fart... We are always aware of and in touch with them."

"Are you two telling me you can read my mind and thoughts?" she was almost shaking with anger when she asked.

"No, Mom," they both said at once. Deirdre then spoke up again, "It's more like feelings and emotions. The only time we can hear thoughts is like when it is a very powerful thought, and you broadcast it hard. You have to broadcast it; we can't just go into your mind and poke around. We can't hear your every thought, and we can't scan through your memories. It just doesn't work that away."