Chapter 25

The CIA safe house was just that, a safe place to hide. Roberta had a job, and I had to get out of there, or die of boredom. The alternative included being shot to pieces by ISIS, but they either had to give up, or run out of soldiers, so I could get on with my life. When we were up and dressed the next morning the head of Special Operations for DHS, and a big shot from the FBI joined a CIA executive in proposing a solution.

"ISIS has decided to make you their special project, and as such, they keep ginning up anger and hatred about all the 'good, peace loving, Muslim family men you've killed. They are going to keep coming, that much is clear, so we need to have a better strategy for dealing with this.

"What we are proposing is that we announce that you were killed in the last shooting, and have a burial, head stone, and funeral service. Let them celebrate having defeated their sworn enemy, and we'll give you a new identity going back to the cradle. It makes no sense for you to keep trying to live through their attacks.

"The good news is that we have arrested, and charged four agents and three support people with various crimes related to leaking information about you to the enemy, so the detailed information they keep getting looks to be cut off. We'll have to see if that is true, but it looks good so far."

We talked for several hours, and their people moved me shortly after lunch to the first in a series of safe houses while my new identity was invented, and the proper papers created. Moving on meant temporarily leaving Fran and Roberta, but to keep exposing them to the ISIS hordes didn't make any sense, either.

In then end, it made no sense to take a chance on getting Roberta and Fran killed.

I died.

But this time, only on paper – for the second time...

"ISIS Terrorists Kill Knoxville HERO"

"TERROR RESTS ITS' CASE – ISIS revenge killing of hero 18 year old, sparks outrage"

"YOUNG HERO DIES IN SHOOTOUT WITH ISIS"

AP – 18 year old hero, David Walsh was murdered yesterday, by ISIS terrorists in an

assault mounted against him, in the mountains of West Virginia. DHS spokeswoman

Kelly Crave, confirms that ISIS terrorists mounted a military style assault on a rural

cabin where 18 year old hero, David Walsh was staying while he recovered from

gunshot wounds suffered in an earlier ISIS attack.

Sources tell the Associated Press that young David Walsh had been hounded by

ISIS extremists ever since he bravely stopped their mass shooting in downtown

Knoxville a few weeks ago. Walsh was repeatedly wounded during attacks mounted

by ISIS insurgents, which points out the impotence of American law enforcement

against the terror group.

David Walsh will be buried in a private ceremony, in upstate New York, at an

undisclosed time, to avoid any further incidents of Muslim aggression.

The only down side to the announcement was one I couldn't really talk about. There was no way Cindy and Brenda wouldn't read or hear about my murder and there was no way I could warn them ahead of time. Other than the three girls who were with their parents' best friends in Tennessee, there was no one to notify that David Walsh was officially dead.

Was my life – lives – really so empty?

When I died, the first time, in Springfield, it hurt me terribly to realize there was no one that cared whether I was alive or dead. If I had stayed dead, instead of being hijacked into Brian's body, it wouldn't have mattered, because I would have been dead.

I was very much alive, just not in my body anymore, and here I was in much the same situation. I was alive in David's body, but dead in the eyes of the world, and there was no one to grieve. I was that alone in the world.

When I read the news of my murder, it made me feel mad, sad, and depressed in turns. After dying in seven different lives, it was like the universe was staying up nights to make sure I never got a break. I'd lost loves, had lovers turn on me, had loved ones die, been there when lovers died, and had one commit suicide, and then die in another timeline, besides.

Having to pretend to die really got my goat.

Roberta called and gave me more bad news. "My bosses are moving Fran and I somewhere far away, and won't tell us until after we're there. I don't know when we'll see you again. Sorry, David..."

We talked for as long as she had before their pickup arrived, and another set of lovers went away from me.

I laid in bed for hours that night, in some god-forsaken, crossroad, somewhere far from anywhere, reflecting on the blessings I'd lived through, and how they all seemed to turn on me, one way or another.

Beth Ann died right beside me in the Tahoe, when the mob sent their killers after us. Jack helped me kill those who had a hand in her murder, and I was merciless going about it.

Rebecca died twice, once by her own hand. That nearly killed me. There was no one to blame, and no one to go after. She took her life the first time, then abused prescription drugs until her body gave out the second time through.

When I was murdered as John Gray my killers were brought to justice the old-fashioned way, which wasn't my way. I wanted to feel the blade go under their chest walls, and watch the life seep out of their eyes, but the execution chamber in the Super-Max Federal prison will have to do.

Katherine died trying to protect me, then I killed her killers. She and I fought well together, and survived several attempts on my life, but when they killed her, I was furious because there wasn't any way to kill more of my enemies.

When I was killed on the houseboat, as Kevin, Teri and the children were fine, and that was somehow, enough for me, but I didn't know why.

Now I had to pretend to die – again - after dying seven times, and the irony of it tortured me. I wanted to fight back. Pretending to die was like surrendering, and I had no intention of surrendering. Somehow I needed to get to the Judge and convince him that he needed me to go after ISIS. My pedigree was airtight, and as long as I didn't give myself away by using all my old methods, he wouldn't even think that I was Brian, David, Carl, John, or Kevin. It was too far-fetched.

Sometime in the wee hours, I realized that the Judge was my next destination. All I had to do was figure out how to approach him.

Sleep finally came to me, along with bizarre dreams. Between crazed mafia killers, and Muslim crazies, I spent my sleeping hours running for my life. Sometime after dawn the dreams went away and I was in a deep sleep when the phone rang.

"Hey! Dead Guy!" I knew that voice...

"SO," he said, and laughed. "I bet you never thought I'd figure out your trick and look you up, did you?"

It was Bill. Big, mean, and angry Bill. That was the guy that put the fear in fearless. He used to do a lot of really violent jobs for Roy and his boys. I hadn't heard a word from Roy since I was John Gray, and never thought Bill would be the one to put the pieces together and figure out my secret.