Chapter 1

Beep ... Beep ... Beep ... Beep...

I wanted to die just so that noise would go away, but then I remembered how quiet death is, and the never-ending loneliness that goes with the silence, and reconsidered.

Beside...

If the beeping thing was torturing me, then I wasn't dead, right?

Let's see...

Arms?

Check.

Legs?

Check. Right leg hurts like fire, but it's definitely right where I left it.

Fingers and toes?

Check and check-check.

My chest hurt like someone used it to light off fireworks. The burn was going to be a problem if it kept up very long.

Head – Ok, let's take that one slowly...

HOLY CRAP!!!!!

I've got a head, but it isn't nice.

'So, ' I thought. 'How dead am I?'

The answer to that question stumped me to the point that I put off opening my eyes and discovering who I was, this time.

Besides...

The quiet wasn't so silent that I was dead, so you might say that the quiet was loud enough, not to be silent ... or something ... you know ... like that.

When I died as Carl, I died so fast, I never knew I was dead, until I woke up in Brian's body, which should have been dead, but lived with me inside ... at least until I died – like - a lot of times...

When Brian died the last time, only to return as the actual Brian, and not me inside of Brian, he was shot by the mafia, which was not a very nice thing to do.

David was shot by the mafia, too, but they were really bad guys.

Carl – the second time thru – was shot by two crazy nurses, in the mansion in Branson. They got very dead right after killing Carl the second time.

John Gray got killed by a crazy, gay, Muslim, who was having an affair with the Speaker of the House and the former Vice President. He was on his way to Death Row, along with the Speaker of the House, but they wouldn't get shot. They'd GET a shot instead.

Now Kevin made a career out of getting shot, and apparently got shot one time too many, and wound up dead, which brings me to right here and right now, which is where I found myself.

Dead ... or not dead ... whichever floats your boat.

I heard movement around me and decided to open my eyes and discover who I was, this time.

Catherine was standing over me, looking into my eyes.

CATHERINE????

Cool!

"Hey," I said, so softly, I wondered if I had a tube in my throat or something equally annoying.

"Oh, Kevin. Welcome back. We thought you were dead. Time after time, we thought you had died, but each time you fought back. I've been staring at that heart monitor, waiting for the green line to flatten out, and not start back again for almost thirty days." She touched the call button, and when the nurse responded, she told them to notify my doctor that I was awake.

"Thank you for not dying..." She was crying. I wanted to comfort her and lifted my right arm to pull her in for a hug. When Catherine felt my arm go around her, she surrendered to my wish and laid across my chest, crying like a baby. I held her for a long time, while she let it all out.

I discovered I liked feeling her in my arms, even if she was crying. Her body felt strong and vulnerable at the same time. As she cried on my chest, I could feel her strong muscles and wet tears

When it was over, Catherine looked deeply into my eyes, and said, "When the doctor said he'd lost your heart beat, it was too much to take, and I gave him my Federal Agent stare and demanded that he go find it. He was truly terrified, but he came through and got you back.

"You were shot four times - twice in the chest, once in the shoulder, and once in the thigh.

"Miraculously, none of them were particularly serious; I mean they were very serious all together, but no single gunshot wound was so serious that you were going to die immediately. Taken all at once, they said you had no chance. You lost a lot of blood, and that was a really bad thing."

She starred deeply into my eyes, and smiled.

It made me feel all oogly inside.

The door opened and a doctor walked in. He checked the monitors and said, "Kevin, you keep defying medical science. When you were brought in all shot to pieces, and I looked at your chart, which was flown in by helicopter - by Federal agents - I thought, 'There is no way a sixteen-year-old body lives through this.'

"You were a goner, for sure. Your heart stopped for over two minutes, but then it started beating again, all on its own, because we had decided that you'd died, son.

"Then you rallied back again and again, until we realized your will to live was far greater than the damage of all those gunshot wounds, and we attacked you with everything we had to keep your brain profused, and your vital organs from shutting down."

He was examining me the entire time he talked, but never asked me anything, which was odd.

"Now that we have you stable and conscious, I need to ask you a bunch of questions..."

For over an hour, he asked me about everything. We talked about everything from my head pain, to the pressure on my bladder. Catherine stayed right beside me the whole time, even for the not so graceful stuff. I wanted to quit when he talked about catheters and rectal tubes, but he plowed on like an old warhorse.

I was so exhausted that I fell asleep right in the middle of one of his questions and didn't wake up until the next day.

My waking thought was my final thought at Kirby's.

"Catherine," I nearly shouted, as I woke up.

"Yes. Yes. I'm right here ... Are you in pain? Do you need the nurse?" She was ready to run for the door.