The return to Mobile differed little from the drive down to Marianna. Neither man felt much like small talk, and Ross would just as soon listen to the jazz on the entertainment band. They pulled into the deserted parking lot of the BOQ just after noon, and McQueen removed his bag from the trunk. He stood by the window of the vehicle, not quite sure how to speak to Ross. Clearing his throat, "I...I'm not very good at thank-yous."

Ross waved his hand, "It's okay, Ty. If it makes you feel better, just think of how much money I just saved the Marines. It costs millions of dollars to train a half decent jet jock like you."

"Yeah." McQueen stuck his hand out to the open window, "Thanks."

"Well," said Ross, taking the extended hand, "That's what friends are for." He released the hand and drove off, leaving McQueen standing in the parking lot, duffel bag at his feet.

Ross had arranged for a full two weeks of leave. That meant McQueen was either going to have to find something creative to do with the next eight days, or he was going to have to call in and go to work tomorrow. The decision didn't need to be made right this minute. He shouldered his bag and walked up the steps to his apartment door and let himself in, relaxing into his own space. In his pleasure at being home, he failed to notice the light coloured personal vehicle leaving the parking lot as he mounted the stairs.

He spent the afternoon puttering about, tending the bonsai pine on his desk, checking in with his office. The colonel was pleased that he was back, but didn't really need him. As the sun began to set, he pulled on the black sweatsuit that the Angels used for PT and set out on a run about the base. Regulars on base were used to seeing Captain McQueen running solitary. He passed a couple of training units, giving them sketchy salutes as he passed, running on toward the edges of the base.

With the drugs gone from his system, McQueen remembered the unalloyed joy of these times, boots hitting macadam, muscles sliding, one on one another. He breathed deeply of the autumnal air, feeling the sweat beginning to flow. The rhythm entranced him. His body went on autopilot, running the familiar course of the base's back roads. He only noticed the personal vehicle, as it pulled along side of him, pacing him. A window rolled down, and a well-remembered voice spoke,

"Captain McQueen." McQueen stopped abruptly, the car doing likewise. Hill leaned toward the window and smiled his shark grin, "Captain McQueen, you didn't keep our appointment last Sunday." The car door opened, and Hill stepped out, dressed in a knee length fur coat. McQueen stepped back, the back of his mind speculating on where the dealer could have obtained such a valuable, slightly illegal garment. Two of Hill's goons exited the front seat of the car, and stood on either side of their boss, where he leaned against the car.

"I've got nothing to say to you, Hill." McQueen lifted one end of the towel around his neck and wiped his face.

Hill examined his fingernails, then looked back at McQueen, "I know. Imagine my disappointment to discover that you checked yourself in to that high-priced drug center, instead of taking me up on my heart-felt offer. Your buddy even fixed it with Colonel Hernandez." He pouted, "Such lengths to avoid my affection, really, Tyrus. Did you think me some sort of monster?" His face registered playful disappointment, his eyes however were angry.

"I've got nothing to say to you," McQueen repeated. "How the Hell did you get on base anyway?"

"Oh," the dealer smiled, "In my business, I've got lots of friends on base." He lifted one finger. This time, McQueen was ready and began to defend himself when the two goons attacked him. One of them went down in the flurry of kicks and punches, the other hard pressed to defend himself. McQueen wasn't ready for the sting of the hypospray when it hit his neck, though. The drug stopped him in his tracks, looking at Hill. His last sight before he blacked out was the gold tooth, gleaming in the setting sun.

Awareness returned slowly. McQueen's first thoughts were of discomfort, his arms held above his head. He tried to move them, and realized that he was manacled to a pipe, hanging from the ceiling. His ankles, too, were immobilized to the floor, his boots removed. The dingy room that surrounded him smelled of must, and long-stored items. The air didn't move, but the chill in it touched him, caused him to notice that his jacket, too had been removed.

"Ah, you're coming around." McQueen opened his eyes to see Hill leaning against a table; his pet InVitro, Stephen by his side. "I really wish you had not forced me to take these measures, Tyrus. All I ever wanted was for us to pleasure one another." He stood up and walked toward McQueen, stopping just inches in front of him. "I'll bet you're wondering where you are. This is the basement of one of my properties down town. We used to use this place for...special parties. You've been out, oh..." he looked at the expensive chronometer on his wrist, "...about two hours. How fortunate that you aren't expected in tomorrow morning. Your Colonel Hernandez might think you had gone South."

McQueen gritted his teeth with the effort to not do anything stupid, "What do you want now, Hill?"

"The same thing as before, Tyrus. Your sweet ass. Only you've limited my options. You don't want my product, you don't need my silence. All that's left is the fact that I have more power than you do, so I'll just have to use that." He smiled sweetly and turned back to the table, picking up another hypospray. "Don't worry, Tyrus. This one won't put you out." He faced McQueen again. "In fact, I think you had some of this at the rehab center. It will just make it easier for my boys to handle you, without hurting you, or them."

He stepped up and applied the spray to the side of McQueen's neck. He jerked his neck back, but there was no avoiding the hypo. The drug entered his skin with another sharp sting. "You know, you should thank me." Hill had stepped back. "I could have used the meanies, and then you'd be hooked again, after all your efforts." Pausing, he tapped the hypo against his lip, "In fact, I have to admit, I did consider it. But it seemed like cheating, somehow."

"And this," McQueen rattled the manacles, "This doesn't?"

"Well, maybe, just a little. But one does what one must." Hill just stood there, watching him. McQueen was aware that they were waiting for the muscle relaxant to take effect. No one spoke. McQueen scanned the room. Soon, he knew, they would unchain him, when they figured he would be weaker, unable to resist. There had to be something, something he could use. The muscle boys stood near the door, their faces blank. Whether they enjoyed this, or simply did their jobs, it was impossible to tell. The young InVitro, Stephen also stayed where he was. He watched the proceedings with interest. McQueen couldn't fathom his feelings either.

"Hill, let me go. Before it's too late. You can't think I'm going to just lie back and let you do this." McQueen tried very hard to keep his voice even.

"No," Hill responded, "I suspect you might even try to hurt me. But I don't think you will be able to, either stop me, or hurt me. And after the fact, what are you going to do? Kill me?" Considering, Hill once again examined his finger nails, "I don't think so. Maybe in the heat, or in self defense, but not for revenge.

Report me to the 'forcers. I don't think so. You get to go tell a bunch of natural borns how you were raped. I mean," He paused, "If after the fact you are able to still convince even yourself it was really rape. You're going to enjoy this." Hill moved closer, stroked McQueen's face, running a thumb around McQueen's lips. He jerked his head back, only to have Hill grab his chin. "Who do you think the enforcers are more likely to believe, you, or me? Everyone knows that tanks are ruled by their gonads. I will absolutely admit to having sex with you, but rape...I don't think so. The boys and I," He gestured toward the two by the door, "We were just having a little party and you came in and offered yourself to all of us. Must have been missing those times in the mines, eh?"

McQueen yanked on the chains again, trying to think of some way out. Dismay filled him at the lack of strength he was able to muster. The pimp/dealer smiled. "Ah, I think you're feeling much better." He turned back to the table, picking something up. When he faced McQueen, McQueen could see the scalpel in his hand. Hill stepped closer to McQueen. McQueen looked at it, waiting to feel its edge. Hill slid the cold metal under the straps of his undershirt, and he felt them give way. Teasingly, Hill pulled the scalpel, dull edge down, down the front of his shirt, "You can't think I mean to cut you. But hold still now." He slipped the blade under the shirt and pulled it back up, severing the fabric. The pieces of shirt fell to the floor. McQueen felt his nipples respond to the chill air, puckering. Hill stepped back, admiring his handiwork.

"See," Reaching out one hand, he stroked the erect nipple, "I knew you would enjoy this." Hill handed the scalpel to Stephen, who laid it on the table. With the one hand, Hill continued to play with McQueen's nipples, brushing them, pinching them, rolling them. The other hand wandered down to McQueen's thigh, stroking the firm muscle. "You really are a lovely man, Tyrus."

McQueen closed his eyes, willing his body not to respond, knowing, with despair, that it would. Both of Hill's hands were at the waist of his sweat pants, sliding them down his hips. Hill moved his hands to McQueen's buttocks, squeezing them. Then he slid the pants down in front, releasing McQueen's cock from the constraints of the sweat pants and the underlying briefs. With one hand wrapped around his cock, Hill squeezed and stroked. The other hand fondled the soft sac behind the penis. McQueen felt the heat, pooling in his pelvis, the blood surging in his erect penis. Knew that he was responding to the expert manipulations of the dealer.

He tried to move away, but both the manacles and the drug prevented him. Hill moved even closer, rubbing McQueen's chest with his own. He put one hand behind McQueen's head, and pulled his face to him. With the other hand still fondling McQueen's erect cock, Hill placed his lips across McQueen's, holding his head so that he couldn't move away. He moved his lips against McQueen's, rimming his lips with his tongue. Hill's expensive cologne filled McQueen's nostrils, coupled with the scent of lust. Unconsciously, he licked his own lips, his tongue passing over where Hill's had been. With a final squeeze on his cock, Hill stepped away.

"You taste almost as good as you look. He moved behind McQueen, stroking his buttocks. Slightly taller than the captain, he reached around him, once again hold McQueen's cock in his hands, one squeezing and rubbing the shaft, the other rubbing the smooth head. McQueen could feel the pimp's rigid length pressing against him through his clothes. He felt the other man's breath, hot on his shoulder as his skin became hypersensitive to the stimulation.

"This is what you stupid tanks are good for." Hill's voice was right behind his ear, whispering, "To pleasure us humans." Hill released him and stepped away, moving back to face his helpless victim. He signaled to the goons, "Unlock the manacles." One went to each side of him, fitting a key into the old fashioned locks, opening the bindings. With his hands and feet released, McQueen attempted to hit the goons, but his strength was not equal to it. For the first time, he actually saw an expression on their faces, as they grinned at his helplessness.

"Stephen." Hill spoke again, "Get those pants off of him." The young hooker stepped forward, grabbing either side of the waist band and pulling the fatigues down. McQueen tried to kick him, still struggling. The struggle made it more difficult for the boy, but within seconds, McQueen stood naked between the two goons.

"Here," Hill swept everything off of the table, "Put him on the table." Once again, McQueen found himself belly down across the table. His belly slid on the smooth surface. With the two men still holding his arms, he felt hands, surely Hill's, stroking his ass. The pimp leaned across his back, speaking into his ear, "I have waited for this for months, Tyrus, and I intend to take my time." McQueen heard the snick of a zipper, then felt Hill leaning across his back. The warmth actually felt good after the chill of the basement.

Hill's hands roamed up and down his back, testing the texture of skin and muscle. The pimp left a trail of kisses up McQueen's spine, to the small nub of raised flesh at the back of his neck. He pulled his head back a minute and observed this mark of their difference. "I've heard you tanks are really sensitive here." He placed his mouth around the nub, sucking and biting gently. McQueen writhed, trying to escape the erotic stimulation. He felt Hill's hands separating the cheeks of his ass, then one finger rimmed the tight hole. Hill pressed it in, moving his finger inside McQueen.

"Hmm, as tight as a virgin. Who'd have thought it after the mines and your adventures with the AIs." He turned to Steve, "Hand me that lubricant." McQueen felt the finger again, this time slick with gel. Hill inserted one finger, moving it around. Then he withdrew it and inserted two.

Almost like the considerate lover he kept saying he wanted to be, Hill prepared McQueen, and himself. McQueen moved against the table, trying to escape the invading fingers, but the two goons held him tight. The hand moved away, and there was silence for a moment, then McQueen felt a blunt thickness between his cheeks. Hill positioned his cock at the entrance to McQueen's body. He called to Stephen, "Get over here, boy. I want Tyrus to enjoy this too. Get your mouth around that cock."

The young hooker knelt under McQueen, just squeezing in between McQueen's legs and the table. McQueen felt his hot breath on his cock, then the tongue, just touching the tip. His cock jerked of its own will as the boy engulfed it in his warm wet mouth. Just then Hill grabbed his hips and thrust, pushing his cock home.

"Ah, goodness you feel good, Tyrus." He withdrew and pushed again. McQueen grunted as Hill invaded his body, feeling the pimp stretching him, making a place for himself inside McQueen. Between the blunt invasion of his ass, and the sensations of the young hooker sucking and licking, the pit of his belly burned with fire. McQueen felt his groin give helpless little jerks, as his own orgasm approached.

Hill pumped in and out of him, his cock stimulating McQueen's prostate at each stroke. He thrust deeper, harder. With a final thrust, Hill filled McQueen, calling out as he orgasmed. McQueen, too, felt himself swell, and pump hot semen into the boy's mouth. He clamped his jaw, refusing to give voice to this grim release.

Hill pulled himself out of McQueen, giving his ass an affectionate pat. "Now, Tyrus, wasn't that nice?" Unseen to McQueen, he nodded to the two goons, who stood McQueen up, supporting him as his knees buckled. Stephen stood up as well, wiping the cum from the corners of mouth, and brushing off his knees. Hill leaned forward and put a finger under the boy's chin. He lifted the boy's face, and licked the corners of his mouth, tasting McQueen on the boy.

"Hmmm. Yummy. I may have to try that before we let you go, Tyrus." McQueen watched as Stephen used a towel to gently clean Hill, wiping his cock, and putting it back in his trousers. Stephen gently pulled up the zipper on his master's pants. Hill turned to the two minions, "Give him another dose, tie him up, and put him on the bed." He gestured toward the cot in the corner. "Make sure there's nothing in here he could hurt himself or you with. I'll be back in a couple of hours for another dance."

He patted McQueen's face, "You are just as good as I thought you'd be. You know, if I thought I could get away with it, I'd just keep you here for awhile. Hmm..." pausing, "I wonder if I could fake indentures. The very idea of free tanks, almost as if they were human...Ah well." He moved to the door, Stephen by his side, "It's something to think about." Just as he started to leave the room, he turned back to his men, "And boys, Tyrus is mine. Don't damage him." With that, he left the room, Stephen opening and closing the door for him.

Half-carrying him, the two got him to the cot and laid him down. A roll of duct tape secured his hands behind him, his feet bound together. One of them walked over to a chair and sat down, picking up a magazine. The other sat down on the cot beside McQueen. He didn't look in McQueen's face, only at the white body laid out in front of him. "Do you think the boss would notice if I just humped him."

The magazine reader lowered his reading material and looked in their direction, "Well, as long as you didn't hurt him, and cleaned him up afterward."

The one sitting by him stood up, unbuttoning his shirt and pants. McQueen wriggled to the far edge of the cot, attempting to put distance between them. "Don't do this."

The hood, shirt open, pants down around his ankles, looked down at his face, almost in surprise, "Why the Hell not? "

McQueen tried his most quelling glare, but bound hand and foot, naked on a cot, he clearly made little impression on the hood, "Hey, you're nothin but a tank boy-toy, Blondie. You may be pretty, but that's just because you were designed that was to make it more fun for us humans."

He pulled his shirt off, not bothering to remove his shoes or pants. Standing by the cot, he stroked his semi-erect cock. He grabbed the scalpel that had wound up on the floor, and used it to cut the tape binding McQueen's feet, then tossed it back across the room. Laying down on top of McQueen, he used one knee to separate his legs, making a cradle for himself between McQueen's thighs. He reached down between them, pulling the two cocks so that the friction would stimulate his. A couple of tentative thrusts, then he set a steady rhythm. He bent down his head, taking one of McQueen's nipples in his mouth, sucking on it, then biting sharply.

McQueen arched his back at the sudden pain, then managed to get one knee between them, striking the goon's erect cock. The other man leaped off him, holding the offended part.

"Goddamn bitch kicked me!" He struck out with a fist, catching McQueen on the jaw. The force rolled him off the cot, where the goon caught him in the side with a steel toed shoe. McQueen felt the sharp pain, wondering if the rib was broken, or simply cracked, then greyness enveloped him. Through the haze, he heard the voices of his captors.

"Fuck, George. If you've 'damaged' him, there'll be Hell to pay. You couldn't just get your rocks off with his feet taped?"

The other hood struggled to pull his pants up. McQueen heard the rustle of the fabric, the click of the zipper. "The bitch kicked me in the hoolies, Jim. What the Hell was I supposed to do. I thought that drug the boss gave him was supposed to make him weak."

"Well obviously, not weak enough. Okay..." There was a slap of the magazine being put back on the table, "Let's get him on the bed. Here's the hypospray we were supposed to give him to put him out. If the boss asks, we'll say he fell out of bed."

McQueen felt the sharp prick of the hypo, then slid into the waiting darkness. A shooting pain in his side awakened him, followed by a young voice in his ear, "Captain McQueen!" Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. The pain in his side intensified and he gasped. "Captain McQueen, you've got to wake up right now!" The face close to his swam, as a sea of pain engulfed him. McQueen shook his head to clear it, then saw that it was Stephen who had him by the shoulders.

"Rib." He gasped, "I think my rib is cracked or broken."

The young man released him, then stood and walked over to the table. He picked up the scalpel and walked back to McQueen. The injured man eyed the scalpel warily, but Stephen smiled,

"I'm going to cut the tape. Hold still, now." He matched action to words. The tape behind McQueen's back parted, releasing the pressure on his shoulders. His arms were flooded with pins and needles, as feeling returned to them. He pulled them to the front, working at making the muscles and joints obey his will. Thankfully the muscle relaxant seemed to have worn off, but the sedative left him muzzy.

"What...?" He licked his lips and tried again, "What are you doing here?" A cursory glance of the room had revealed that the two muscle men were no longer there.

The young InVitro put his arm around McQueen's shoulders, helping him to sit up. "I'm here to get you out."

The movement had caused the sharp pain in McQueen's side to intensify, so he put a hand out to slow the boy down. "Where's your *boss*?"

"He's with a couple of girls from his stable. They've been skimming, and he's teaching them the error of their ways." The boy had released McQueen, and sat back on his heels in front of him. "That's where Jim and Charlie are too. That's one of the perks of their job. They get to help discipline the prossies."

"Yeah," said McQueen. He was sitting on the edge of the cot, clutching his injured side. "And I'll bet they're real good at it." He found himself gazing at the young InVitro's mouth, remembering the sensations it had brought him. Again he shook himself, this was neither time nor place. "Why are you helping me?"

"Mr Hill went too far. He thinks that just cause you're a tank, he can do whatever he wants." The boy shook his head, "That's not right. You already did your time. A tank as does his time is free, right?"

"Right." McQueen hoped Stephen didn't hear the sarcasm in his voice as he reached out a hand to put it on the boy's shoulder. The boy helped him to stand, then handed him his pants.

"Your shirt's pretty well done in, Captain McQueen, but your jacket is over there in the corner." Stephen left him standing, leaning against a chair, and fetched the jacket. "Come on. I figure the party's gonna last about another hour. " He pulled McQueen up.

"No." McQueen grasped his side. "Call Commander Ross. I'll never make it out of here." He felt the grey tinging his vision again, then the black.

The next time he awoke, a hand gently shook his shoulder, "Ty, you got to wake up now, boy."

McQueen opened one eye, seeing Ross' concerned face, and beyond him, the young hooker, Stephen, practically dancing, "We got to get out right now, sir. Mr Hill's going to be back any minute, and he is going to be pissed."

Ross put an arm around McQueen's shoulder and helped him to sit up. "I'm going to kill the mother fucker."

McQueen saw the angry concern in his friend's face, and smiled wryly, "Get in line."

Relieved to here McQueen speak, Ross squeezed his shoulder, "Come on, Ty. Let's get you to the hospital. We'll call law enforcement from there."

McQueen had been cooperating with Glenn at getting himself upright, but stopped at that, "No hospital, no law enforcement."

"God damn it, Ty. This son of a bitch is exploiting InVitros and just raped you. We can't just let it go."

McQueen had managed, between Glenn and Stephen to stand, and holding his side turned to look his friend in the face. "He's already told me, he'll just deny it was rape. I was 'willing'. No, Glenn. He's right, they won't believe me over him and his goons. Just get me out of here."

Unwilling to incite Ty any further, Glenn just put his arm around his friend's waist, helping him to the stairs. Stephen stopped him at the foot.

"You've got to hit me, and tie me up."

"What?" Glenn turned,.

"You've got to make it look like you just got him away. Hit me and tie me up like he was." Stephen motioned to Ty.

Glenn looked to Ty for support. The older InVitro nodded, "Hill will kill him if he thinks he helped me."

Stephen nodded too, "Mr Hill thinks I'm just a stupid tank. He may find out I'm not so stupid."

Glenn propped Ty up against the wall and drew back a fist, catching Stephen across the jaw. With Ty as technical advisor, Glenn wrapped Stephen's ankles and wrists in the duct tape. That done, he gently laid the boy on the cot, and helped Ty up the stairs.

The compromise reached between Glenn's insistence that Ty needed medical attention and Ty's insistence that he be returned to his own apartment, resulted in Ty and Glenn standing in the living room of the Ross residence. The comfortable dwelling seemed light-years from the dingy basement. Glenn continued to support Ty,

"Come on, the spare bedroom is upstairs."

"I gotta get a shower." If the words were simple, the emotion behind them wasn't. Glenn recognized the need of the victim to scrub the events of the last hours from his skin.

"Okay, son. Come on." The two men struggled up the stairs. At the top of the stairs one of the bedroom doors opened, as Spider stuck his head out.

"Dad, Captain McQueen. What's up?"

"Nothing," Glenn motioned to his son, whispering, "Go back to bed, we'll talk in the morning."

The boy gave Ty a glance over, but followed his father's orders. Glenn and Ty made it down the hall to the extra bedroom. Glenn steered Ty towards the small bathroom, "Can you manage the shower on your own?"

"Yeah." Ty moved to the door and opened it. He moved slowly, with a jerky gracelessness. Within moments, Glenn heard the shower running. He laid out a set of his own sweats and sat down in the rocking chair in the corner, waiting in case Ty needed help to clothe himself. The shower lasted longer than Glenn expected. Finally, in concern he opened the door. Ty stood in the shower, leaning his back against the cold tiles as the water poured over his body. By now the water heater had emptied, and the water running down his chest was cold. His eyes were closed, his head back. Glenn reached in and turned off the water.

"Come on, Ty." Glenn held out the towel.

"I can't get that smell off my skin." The voice was plaintive, as close to whiny as Glenn had ever heard his stoic friend.

"I know, Ty. You can shower again in a little while, when there's more hot water." He reached in the shower, wrapping the towel around Ty's now shivering body. "Come on," He repeated, helping Ty into the bedroom. The InVitro seemed incapable of initiating action. Glenn dressed him in the sweats and pulled the covers down from the bed, tucking Ty in. It occurred to him as he did so, that this was likely the first time in his friend's life that anyone who cared about him had done this simple service for him. "Go to sleep, son. It'll all keep 'til morning." Before he made it to the door, Ty had turned on his side, his breathing deep in sleep. Glenn turned off the light, closing the door behind him.

Glenn jerked up in bed, wondering what had roused him. Then he heard it again, the anguished cry coming from the bedroom. Mai stirred beside him, opening sleepy eyes. He knew that in seconds, the kids would awaken, too. Sliding out of the bed, he pulled the covers back up over Mai,

"Go back to sleep, honey. I'll take care of it." As he exited his room, both Spider and Miri stood in their own doorways.

"What's going on, Dad?" Spider ran his hand through disheveled hair.

"Yeah. Who's in the spare bedroom?" Miri looked concerned.

"It's Ty. Remember, I told you he has bad dreams sometimes. I'll take care of it, you guys go on back to bed. It's 0400." The young people did not do exactly as their father ordered. They stood in the hallway, watching him enter the spare bedroom, listening to what had sunken to low moans coming from their father's friend. Words were indistinguishable, except for the repeated, "no". Glenn entered, leaving the door open so that the light from the hallway spilled into the room. He touched Ty's shoulder lightly, prepared to jump back if he inadvertently triggered a defensive response. Not fast enough, he found himself pinned against the wall by his friend's forearm. Ty's eyes opened, and he saw who he had attacked. He stepped back, breathing shallowly, clutching his side.

"Sorry. I...I guess I thought you were somebody else."

"It's okay." Ross moved away from the wall, and went to the bed. He flipped the covers back and smoothed the bottom sheet. "Get back into bed, Ty. I'll sit with you for a while."

Ty automatically followed the orders, stretching himself out on the bed, hands at his sides. Glenn pulled the rocking chair over to the bed and sat down in it.

"Were you dreaming of the AIs or Hill?"

The question seemed to rouse Ty to himself. He sat up in the bed, leaning his back against the headboard and wincing as an injudicious move pulled at his injured side. "Tanks don't dream."

"Come off it, Ty. We've had this discussion before, remember. What was this one about?"

"I'm not sure." He ran a hand through his hair, "The AIs, Hill, some guys from the mine. It was all there." Turning his head away from Glenn, he looked out the window. "I wonder if tanks have souls."

"Lordy, Ty. We've had this one, too. You wonder if there is such a thing as souls. What in particular brought this on?"

Ty looked back as his friend, "I had just finished reading a zen treatise on reincarnation. Now I'm wondering what karma I'm working out here." He smile wryly, "I think its better for my ego to believe that there either is no such thing, or if there is, tanks don't have them."

"Feeling a little sorry for ourselves, are we?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Look, you don't need to stay. I'm okay now." He slid down into the bed to prove that he was really going to sleep now. Glenn stood and pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Okay, I'll just sit here and stare out the window for a while then." As he spoke, he sat back down in the rocking chair. "I'd hate for you to wake up the household again."

From the tone and smile, McQueen knew that nothing he said would dissuade Ross from staying, so he turned over and slowed his breathing. Holding his injured side, he slipped back into an uneasy sleep.


Next : Chapter IX

Previous : Chapter VII