“Dad!” they both cried as they rushed into his open arms.
Laughter filled the corridor as Michael squeezed the two children close and showered their heads with little kisses. “Oh, let me have a look at you two!” he cried. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“We missed you too, Daddy!” the girl replied. Michael pushed aside her light, brown curls that covered part of her freckled face. Her eyes were a light brown, yet they gleamed with joy as she hugged Michael tightly.
“Have you kids been good for Uncle Moonie?” Michael asked lightly.
“As good as gold, just like you told us,” the girl answered proudly. “I read all of my books you left me!”
“Awesome!” Michael complimented, then turned his attention to the boy. “How ‘bout you, slugger? You doing alright?”
“Uh huh,” the little boy nodded. “It’s fun here. But Dad, are we going home now?”
“Not yet, pal,” Michael answered him. “We’re gonna stay here for a few more weeks. But don’t worry; I’ll be here too.”
“Did you finish all your work?” the girl asked. Megan could only assume, as she remained speechless behind him, that Michael had left them here and explained he had some very important work to do and would be gone for a while.
“For now,” he said with a smile. Then he stood and turned his attention to Megan. “Now guys, I want you to meet someone. This is Miss Megan.”
The sound of her name seemed to break her from her trance of shock, and Megan knelt before them. “Hello there,” she said, adding sugar and spice to her voice. “And who might you be?”
The little girl ran up to her excitedly and held out her hand to shake. “Hi! My name’s Emily!”
“Such a pretty name!” Megan said with a warm smile. “And how old are you Emily?”
“Ten,” she replied, “and I’m in fourth grade, but I have a fifth-grade reading level!”
“That’s amazing,” Megan praised. “I’ll bet you’re really smart! And who is this handsome young man?” She had turned her attention to the boy, who remained by Michael’s side, eyeing her warily.
When he didn’t reply, Michael spoke up, “This is Alex. He’s a bit of a quiet one. Quite the opposite of his big sister.” He mussed the boy’s hair playfully.
“Well hello, Alex,” she said sweetly. And how old are you?”
“Nine,” he answered with a hint of suspicion in his voice, “but I don’t like reading.”
“Oh I understand,” she answered with a nod. “What’s your favorite subject in school then?”
Alex shrugged his shoulders, still leaning against Michael’s leg. “How do you know Dad? He never told us about you.”
Megan smiled at the boy. “I can tell you’re a smart one too, Alex,” she said with a sincere tone, hoping to help him warm up to her. “Your… dad… helped me when I was in trouble.”
“That makes sense,” Emily chimed in. “That’s what Daddy does when he goes to work. He helps people.”
Michael knelt down again, giving Alex another hug. “Well you two, I can’t wait to hear about everything you’ve been up to. But let’s let Miss Megan get settled in. What’s Uncle Moonie making for dinner?”
“Cheesesteaks!” Moonie shouted from a small room adjacent to the hallway. “And Dad’s gonna cook for us guys!”
Michael gave another grimace as the kids jumped up and down with verbal bursts of cheers. “Can you make root-beer floats for dessert too?” Emily pleaded. “You make ‘em the best, Daddy!”
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” he laughed. “Okay, kids. Why don’t you both help me in the kitchen? Go wash your hands and I’ll meet you there.”
They both agreed and ran down the hallway toward what Megan guessed was a bathroom. When Michael turned to her, she gave him a half smile and a questioning look in her eyes.
“Adopted,” he said quietly to her. “I’m their legal guardian. Long story. For now, I think you should join Moonie in the living room. There’s someone here you need to speak with.” He raised his left hand to point to a large opening in the hallway that led to the room where Moonie had retreated. Though she could see most of the well-kept area from her position in the hallway, whoever awaited her with Moonie was hidden from sight.
Her questioning glance didn’t leave her face, but changed slightly at his mention of this someone. “It’s alright, Megan,” he assured her. “You’re safe here.”
Having trusted him this far, she found her feet again and moved slowly toward the living room. Michael walked with her, and she had forgotten all about the hour of awkward silence between them in the truck the moment he took her hand in a supportive manner, which was warming to her heart, but also a bit confusing.
Until she turned the corner into the living room and brought both hands to her mouth in a gasp.
He slowly arose from a cushioned, wooden chair in the far corner. His head hung slightly with sorrowful eyes, but a humble smile formed at the sight of her. “Hey pumpkin,” he said sheepishly. His blue jeans and denim shirt presented an appearance she knew too well.
Megan felt her tears even before he finished his two-word sentence.
“Dad?”
Chapter IX
Time froze, as it often does when shock and surprise enter the mind, in that moment when neither Megan nor her estranged father knew what to say. Jim had been waiting as patiently as a man perpetually on the edge of his seat possibly could to see his daughter again. And now that he had finally gotten his wish, he was at a loss for words. Megan, who had all but written him off after too many useless attempts to reestablish even a small piece of the relationship they once had, had even lower chances of formulating even a fragment of a sentence.
“Megan,” Moonie spoke, breaking the silence that deafened the room, “your dad’s been my guest for several days…” She didn’t take her eyes off her father, and remained silent. “…and he’s been worried sick about you,” Moonie added.
Still, there was no further interaction between them. Michael, standing just behind Megan, leaned forward and said supportively, “The day the police contacted him to let him know you’d gone missing, he came to Lancaster right away, and he did everything he could to try to find you. I actually had to trick him to come here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I felt…”
“Megan,” Jim cut in with effort. His voice was soft and low with embarrassment. “I’m… I’m sorry. Sorry it took somethin’ like this… to knock some sense into me.” He paused for a moment, feeling very exposed. Letting down pride was harder than pulling the rustiest nails, but he knew he had to. “I don’t know how I can make things right… after all this time… but I’ll try my hardest. But if you don’t want me here… I understand. I just… needed to know you’re alright.”
Before he had even finished his last words, Megan rushed across the thin, beige carpeted living room and threw her arms around her father’s neck. She broke into a healthy sob as if they were the only ones around for miles.
Jim closed his eyes, forcing all his might to prevent from breaking down in his daughter’s arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Sorry for all of it. Things’ll be different this time, I swear.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” she said through her sobbing. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too. You’re all I’ve got, pumpkin. Never gonna shut you out again.”
Megan kissed him on his course cheek where a single tear fell. “We’ll get through this,” she assured him. “Together.”
For a moment, Michael watched the pair with a hopeful smile on his face. The reunion of father and daughter before him gave him hope as it defined the many risks he had taken, chancing his own life as well as those of his own loved ones. One look at the Pancos before him, as they embraced, told him that it was all worth it. Silently, he left them and headed for the kitchen, where the children met him to help with the cheesesteaks.
Moonie soon joined them, allowing Megan and Ji
m to talk privately in the living room. They had much to catch up on. So did he and his friend.
“Hope you don’t mind if I make these Philly style,” Michael stated as he threw the thin slabs of steak onto the pan, which instantly produced a sizzling sound upon the stove. He hadn’t turned to him. He simply knew Moonie was there.
“No mushrooms,” Moonie replied. “You know I can’t stand ‘em.”
“Wuss,” Michael commented blandly.
“Language, Dad,” Emily teased.
“Is ‘wuss’ a bad word?” he asked, giving the girl a quizzical look.
“Well, it’s not nice,” she informed him.
“You tell ‘im, Em,” Moonie laughed.
For a while, lighthearted banter filled the kitchen while the children remained by Michael’s side, not exactly helping him with the cooking, but they had drug two of the kitchen table’s chairs next to him with which they stood upon to watch as he rapidly chopped the steaks and continuously flipped the chunks over in the pan. But by the time he had added the onions and peppers, they grew bored and asked if they could watch TV until dinnertime. Michael gave the approval, as long as Uncle Moonie was okay with letting them use the set in his bedroom, since Mr. Panco and Miss Megan were talking in the living room. Moonie gave them the thumbs-up, and they quickly scampered off.
“They’re happy as hell you’re back,” Moonie started. “Hope you’re not planning on taking too many more lengthy trips. You know they need stability.”
“I know,” Michael agreed solemnly. “Hopefully I won’t have to, at least not for a while. Now that we’ve stopped the Dark Year.”
“Hopefully,” Moonie added, “there won’t be another one for some time.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “We’ve still got work to do. Plenty of it.”
“I figured that much,” Moonie agreed.
“Nothing where I’ll have to be gone for more than a day,” Michael assured him. “The kids should be okay with that.”
“As long as it’s nothin’ that’ll get you killed either.”
“Nothing like that. Well… most of it.”
Moonie sat motionless for a moment, staring hard at his friend’s back as he continued working the cheesesteaks. “Something’s got you in a twist,” he sensed. When Michael didn’t reply, he moved his wheelchair closer. “C’mon Mick. I know when somethin’s up with you. What is it?”
Michael took a good look toward the passageway that led out of the kitchen, making sure no one was nearby to overhear. “A few things. But first of all… I saw him, Rob,” he said with a lowered voice.
“Who?” Moonie pried. Michael didn’t answer, which was enough of an answer for him. “Him? You found him?”
“Not exactly,” he admitted. “I only saw him through her vision. After the fact. He’s long gone now. Not sure where he’s run off to.”
“And you’re sure it’s him.”
“I’ll never forget that face. Or those eyes.”
Moonie drew in a deep breath and let it out in a pensive sigh. “Okay,” he said. “So what’s got you spooked about it?”
Michael turned again toward the opening in the kitchen, checking to make sure there was no change in the status of their current privacy. When he was satisfied they were still alone, he turned and gripped his friend’s hand, sharing the vision he had seen, particularly the detailed part of in which the man of which he spoke single-handedly wiped the floor with an armed Marine named Ben Weber, then proceeded to demonstrate his monstrosity upon the innocent friend of Megan’s, up to the point when he had burned her broken body alive. The sadistic laughter shot into Moonie’s conscious like an icy poison. Fortunately, the vision had less effect on him, as it was a copy of a copy. The fear and darkness too watered down to leave a haunting remnant. For Moonie, it was no worse than watching a horror flick.
When Michael had finished, there remained only the sizzling of the steaks.
“This guy’s bad news,” he finally remarked.
“That’s an understatement,” Michael said.
“Never seen anything like that.”
Michael said nothing of it. There was nothing to say, but much to ponder on. “Can you get drinks?” he asked as if the severity of their talk was nonexistent.
Moonie wheeled to the fridge and pulled out two juice boxes for the kids. It was rare that he ever had little to say, but he suddenly found it difficult to comment. He knew what his friend would do, and he suddenly feared for him more than ever. Quietly, he placed the juice boxes on the kitchen table, then went back for the fridge. “Beer, water, or iced tea? Sorry, no Dew.”
“You know I only drink that stuff once in a blue moon anymore,” Michael answered. “You couldn’t have gotten just one as a ‘welcome home’ gift?”
“If you’re in a celebratory mood, why don’t we just break out the Cubans tonight?”
Michael looked down for a moment. “No,” he answered. “Not yet. I think it’s still a little too soon for that.” He opened a plastic bag next to him and pulled out bread rolls, then proceeded to slice them open with a knife. “Water’s fine. Megan will want an iced tea.”
Moonie shrugged and reached into the fridge. “Beer for me and Jim.” Then he gave his friend another look. “So what’s with the hottie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that, dickhead. You spend one fucking day with her and you know what she wants to drink already? C’mon. Share.”
“Not on your life,” Michael smirked.
“Selfish ass,” Moonie grunted. “Figures the one selectee you save happens to be a bombshell. Not fair. How is it you get so friggin’ lucky?”
“Must be my good looks.”
“Certainly not your dry-ass personality.”
Michael continued tending the food as Moonie set the table. They could’ve continued the small talk for hours if they wanted, if not for the lingering of the more important matter that remained at the front of their thoughts. Both knew the other dwelled on it. Neither wanted to resume discussing it.
But Moonie knew it wouldn’t be much longer before the kitchen would be occupied by everyone else, and this was a matter better mentioned without the others present. “Listen, Mick. Maybe you should let this one go.”
“Megan?”
“No. Her, you should hold onto forever. But you know that’s not who I’m talking about.”
“And you know I can’t let it go.”
“Look,” Moonie tried to level with him, “This guy… you saw what he can do. I know you can hold your own, buddy, but he’s…”
“Go ahead,” Michael prompted, knowing what was on his mind, “say it. He’s faster.”
“And stronger. Younger. And driven like no one I’ve known.”
“Maybe, but I’m more pissed off.”
“Mick,” Moonie pressed, “you saw it in his eyes. Like he’s got no conscience. A guy like that has no rules, man.”
Michael turned to him. “Did you see his hat?”
“What?” Moonie gave a queer look at him.
“St. Louis. He’s a Cardinals fan.” A tiny smirk formed on his face.
“Oh,” Moonie spat with pure sarcasm, “in that case, motherfucker’s gotta die for sure!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself, Mick? Truth: odds are against you if you try to beat ‘im. Odds are he’ll kill you. You can’t do that to yourself, not when you’ve got Emily and Alex. You’ve gotta be smart and stay alive for them.”
“Alright,” Michael sighed, revealing a hint of frustration. He turned around again and began using the spatula to scoop the steak mixture from the pan, portioning it into the separate rolls. “I’m not going to actively look for him. Wouldn’t know where to start anyway. But as long as I continue hunting their kind, something tells me I’m going to cross paths with him eventually.”
“Maybe you won’t have to,” Moonie suggested. “From what we could both see, he’s low level when it comes to dark magic. Stick with th
e plan. Cut the head off the snake. Then he won’t be a problem.”
Michael squeezed the spatula in his hand until his knuckles turned white. “He’ll always be a problem, Moonie,” he growled venomously, “even if we miraculously dismantle the Agency. He’s a killer. He gets a kick out of it. That couple he murdered in the vision, that wasn’t an assignment or a directive issued to him. That was him on his free time. He might be low level, but he’s acquired the physical abilities. That’s how he’s so fast and strong. And he’ll continue to bring pain and death to anyone he wants to. With or without the Agency.”
He turned around to face his friend, his demeanor suddenly calm, as if he had suppressed the volcano that always lay inside him back to dormancy. “It’s because he has no rules that he needs to be stopped, Rob. Whatever it takes.”
Though his expression suggested self-control, Moonie could see the venom in his friend’s ice-cold eyes hadn’t left. Michael sensed his concern and turned away from him to continue with dinner.
“But without the Agency…” Moonie began.
“Stop trying to talk me out of it!” Michael interrupted with a raised voice.
“With-OUT the Agency,” Moonie repeated with a volume that matched Michael’s, “any crimes he commits would be a solo act! Not a threat to humanity, Mick!”
“Doesn’t make a diff…”
Moonie cut him off, growing louder, “If we succeed in our mission, and he keeps killing, he’ll be a wanted man. We can eventually track his whereabouts and simply lead the authorities to him. Let them handle it. No need for you to get directly involved.”
Michael said nothing, but he began working the steaks more fervently, indicating that his frustration only grew each passing second.
“Mick,” Moonie said more softly. “For your own good. I’m tellin’ ya. Let this one go.”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Michael slammed the spatula onto the counter next to the bread rolls forcefully enough to cause them to bounce from the cutting board. He turned around again, his narrowed eyes now an icy fire of rage. “Don’t EVER tell me that, Rob! Don’t you dare! He’s the reason I got back into this! Not humanity! Not the fucking greater good! Him!”
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