Ghost Rider Pt. 05

See Pt. 1 for blurb. Also, if you haven't already read Pts. 1-4, I strongly recommend doing so before proceeding. All on-page sensuality takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Seven

"Good morning!" an unfamiliar woman announced as she opened the door to the interrogation room. "I'm told you've been Mirandized?"

"Yeah," announced the gruff voice of the agent with whom David had been verbally sparring since his arrival several hours hence. "I read this piece of shit his rights."

"And?" the woman prompted.

"This fucking terrorist thinks he can lawyer up."

"I see," the woman replied somberly as she took a seat. She placed the folder she carried on the table, but declined to open it. Instead, she favored David with a smile which did not reach her eyes and said, "You must be famished. What can we get you to eat?" She ignored David's hateful glare and stood before announcing, "I think maybe some coffee, fruit and donuts. I'll be right back."

David focused his attention on the ring which rose out of the desk, and through which the handcuffs he wore had been threaded.

The remaining agent waited until the door closed behind his companion before snarling, "You know this silent treatment is only hurting you, right? You've only got a few hours before we have to load you into the transport to the courthouse for your arraignment. Once we leave, you're out of chances and the judge won't have any choice but to throw your ass in the federal pen until your trial. Word is that the case backlog is running at least eighteen months right now. That's a year-and-a-half before you even think about facing a jury."

Nothing he was being told was news to David. The agent, who had identified himself as Bonham, had been reminding him of his likely fate every few minutes since his arrival at least four hours hence. David was naturally inclined to be suspicious of government representatives (thanks to his father's avowed libertarian streak), but it was little effort to remain wary when he was being threatened with decades in prison.

"Here we go," the woman announced as she returned with a plate of pastries and fruit, which she placed within David's reach. She turned to her partner and asked, "Isaac? Would you mind fetching us all some coffee?"

"I don't like leaving you alone in here with this sand neh..."

"I'll be fine, Agent Bonham," the woman interrupted with steel in her voice.

After the door closed behind him, she returned her attention to David and said in a gentle voice, "I apologize for him, David. He's a political appointmentee who only joined this division a few months ago. Please, have something to eat. It's nearly five in the morning, and you've been awake for at least twenty hours."

'Those fucking surveillance cameras,' David thought to himself. 'How in the hell did they track us after all the changes we made, and in the middle of a God damn blizzard?'

His interrogator continued, "And we know you haven't exactly had an easy day, what with driving through blizzard conditions all the way from Cheyenne." When David remained mute, she said, "Where are my manners? I'm Special Agent Lyta Winters. Do you need anything? Restroom? Cigarette?"

"Lawyer," David rasped.

"Yeah... about that... I'm afraid that won't be possible. Yet. You see, this isn't just your run-of-the-mill investigation. You've been arrested on suspicion of domestic terrorism, so the Patriot Act takes precedence. So, until our investigation establishes that there isn't an active threat to national security, it'll just be us. Believe me, Mr. Shyam, it really is in your best interest to tell us the location of your accomplice."

'They didn't capture Petra!' he rejoiced silently. 'She got away!'

"That's right, Mr. Shyam. Your so-called girlfriend abandoned you to rot in federal prison. Alone. According to our witness, the woman was the primary instigator of the terrorist incident. It's possible, even likely, that if we could just talk to her, then we'd be convinced that you're blameless in this mess. Hell, I'll bet we'd end up turning you loose with our heartfelt thanks for bringing an enemy of the state to justice."

"Here's your coffee, sugar tits," Bonham growled upon returning and awkwardly placing three cups of coffee on the table.

"I don't give a damn who your uncle knows," Winters seethed. "If you call me that again, I'll..."

"Oh, shut up, woman. Did you get bin Laden to confess yet, or have you just been in here whoring it up in the hopes of getting a confession?"

"You are such a fucking moron! He's not middle-eastern, he's Indian."

"Like woo-woo Indian?"

"No, you imbecile, like India the country."

"He's still just a scumbag immigrant."

"He's not. Both he and his parents are natural born citizens."

"All the more reason we should waterboard him. Fucking traitor."

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Agent-Trainee Bonham."

"Fuck you! You ain't the boss of me."

"I am, in fact, your direct supervisor. And you will follow my orders. Now!"

As he got to his feet, Bonham grumbled, "Fucking D. E. I. slut thinks she can tell me what to do. I'll have your job in a month, Lyta."

After the door closed behind him, she sighed, "Again, I apologize for his behavior. Now... where were we? Ah, yes. Your accomplice. Marge, no last name, a. k. a. Kristen Galning. We know the second name is fake, as the real Ms. Galning is in Guatemala. Clever tactic, however. They could be sisters. But what all this subterfuge really establishes is that Marge is a foreign agent, here under an assumed identity and working toward most nefarious ends indeed. Destroying the home of Sarah and Edward Hyll in a chemical weapons attack was only the beginning, David. Our sources indicate that she arrived in possession of a weapon of mass destruction. She aims to kill thousands, maybe millions, of fellow Americans. Do you know how many people of South Asian descent live in Chicago? And it's just a day's drive from here."

He snickered, despite his commitment to remaining silent, at her racist tactic. In truth, all he could think about was the sliver of hope that Petra would use her incomparable intellect, rather than her overflowing heart, and recognize that the only logical choice was for her to make for the border with Emmy, find Alejandra Vélez, and secure her own future.

Winters continued, "You really must answer my questions, David. National security is at risk, and you're an accomplice because you're actively protecting a dangerous terrorist." When he snidely shook his head, she added, "You can't remain clammed up like that forever."

He shrugged conspiratorially while he thought to himself, 'Watch me.'

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

"Sit the fuck down!" the driver shouted at his review mirror. "I'm not going to tell you again to stay in your God damn seat Foyle."

"Yeah? What the fuck are you gonna do about it, boy?" the gargantuan prisoner grunted under his breath.

David focused the entirety of his energy on maintaining his focus on the spot on the transport's floor between his feet, and not engaging with his fellow prisoner. Normally, it would not have been an effort to remain taciturn in the presence of anyone not named Petra Jansen. He was finding, however, that it was a somewhat more complicated proposition when the stranger in question was one of the most actively antagonistic humans he had ever encountered.

His fellow prisoner was perhaps a smidge taller than David, and he was dressed in the same orange jumpsuit, but the comparisons ended there. David had little doubt that the man tipped the scales comfortably above the level of his own substantial bulk before he started fasting. There was little doubt in his mind, in fact, that his fellow prisoner outweighed himself and Petra put together. The corpulent prisoner was also covered in crude tattoos, not a few of which professed a philosophical alignment with a notorious Austrian corporal.

To David, Foyle muttered, "You know that there's not a fucking thing homeboy could do about it if I decided to put a hurtin' on you. If it weren't for these handcuffs, you'd already be in the hospital... or in the ground."

The urge to ask, 'What'd I ever do to you?' nearly caused David to break his silence, but his instincts won out in the end. He also had little doubt that the answer to that unspoken inquiry would be devoid of things like logic or rational thought.

"That's right, Omar. We heard all about your plot to set off a nuke in our country."

David was jostled as the transport bounced over a speed bump. As he risked a glance outside the window, he was somewhat relieved to spot a sign indicating they were finally arriving at their destination. He was not foolish enough to believe that their arrival signified the end to his torment, but he at least held out hope that he would be afforded a moment to relax during the flurry of activity which was sure to coincide with their arrival.

After they came to a stop, a group of guards streamed out of the detention center and surrounded the transport. After his shackles were disconnected from the metal ring attached to the wall, David was yanked roughly to his feet and directed into the jail where he was made to endure an intake processing which was indistinguishable from a similar routine he had been put through less than eight hours earlier on the other side of the state. Any relief David might have felt was soon dispelled, however, when he was led into a holding cell and found someone there waiting for him.

"Well, if it isn't Omar the fucking terrorist," Foyle chortled.

David did his best to ignore his unwelcome companion, although he did not fail to note that the leviathan was no longer wearing shackles. He sought the furthest corner of the cell and stood with his back against the bars before settling in to wait for the inevitable.

"Do you not hear me talking to you, boy?"

'Petra got away,' David silently assured himself. 'She got away, and that's all that matters. If there's any justice in the world, she and Emmy are halfway to Canada by now.'

"I will not be ignored by the likes of you," Foyle snarled as he lunged in David's direction.

The smaller man skipped out of the way with ease and darted over to the opposite side of the cell while keeping an anxious eye on his tormenter.

"You're locked in here with me, Omar. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"Long as it takes," David muttered under his breath before again dancing away from Foyle's attempt to get a hand on him.

The thought to call out to the guards for help occurred to David, but he rejected it almost at once. Foyle's frequent threats had been easily audible to the guard on the transport, and the latter had done nothing beyond sneering in David's direction. He suspected, in fact, that Foyle was the pawn (whether he knew it or not) of his captors; although he was unsure if the ultimate goal was to get him to talk, or to do away with him altogether.

Two more iterations of Foyle impotently lunging in his direction left the larger man quite winded, but David refused to let his guard down or allow even a hint of celebration show in his expression. He had no illusions that his efforts to elude his tormentor were anything but futile. This was prison, and if the threats levied by Winters and Bonham were any indication, they intended to keep him behind bars for a very long time. If his fellow prisoners were dead set on brutalizing him, there was little he could ultimately do to stop them; especially if his foes were in league with his captors.

But he would focus all of his will, all of his hatred at the cruel world which had shown him paradise only to snatch it away, on never giving them a hint of satisfaction. He was in fact prepared, eager even, to never utter a single word to the loathsome creatures who had stolen his freedom; and his only chance at happiness. But he needed no such convictions with respect to the woman he loved, because he knew that he would never, could never, betray her. He would unhesitatingly forgo any hope at ever again breathing free air if the alternative was her misfortune.

Foyle's fifth attempt to lay a hand on him demonstrated a new tactic that caught David off guard; rather than making a straight grab for him, he seemed to aim for David's right arm. When David evaded to his left, however, he found the adjoining wall to be too close for comfort. He did his best to duck under Foyle's massive paw, but the sickening feeling of being yanked backward by his shirtsleeve laid bare the depth of his miscalculation. David kicked wildly in the direction of his foe's knee, but only managed to deliver a glancing blow.

"I got you now, boy," Foyle's hateful voice whispered just behind his ear.

An elbow to Foyle's bulging belly did nothing to loosen his grip, nor did a futile attempt to kick him in the groin.

Foyle spun him around and grinned cruelly at him before announcing, "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Foyle!" a gruff voice called out. "Let him go!"

"The fuck you say."

"Turn him loose, or it's another week in solitary."

"Fine," Foyle whispered menacingly as he released his grip. Without taking his focus from David, he added, "Don't you worry, Omar. We'll have plenty of time to finish this later."

Keys clanked in the lock before the newcomer called out, "Come on, Shyam. Someone wants to see you."

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Eight

"Mr. Shyam?" a distinguished gentleman asked as he looked up from the papers spread before him on the conference room table.

"Who'd you expect, counselor?" the guard growled impatiently.

"There's no need to be rude. Can't you take those horrid shackles off of him?"

"Rules are rules. He stays cuffed unless he's in a cell. You should thank me. This piece of shit was gonna blow up Chicago."

"Allegedly," came the reflexive correction. Then, after a pregnant pause, the apparent lawyer added snippily, "Will there be anything else, officer?"

"This man's dangerous, Mr. Verraad. You sure you want me to leave you alone with him?"

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"Your funeral," the corrections officer grumbled as he left the room.

"Have a seat, Mr. Shyam. My name is Joss Verraad. But, please, call me Joss."

"And you are?" David muttered as he availed himself of the welcome opportunity to sit.

"I was told you requested a lawyer. Is that not the case?"

"They told me I wasn't entitled to one."

"Well... it would seem that that error has been rectified."

"Are you a public defender?"

"I have a private practice. But I sometimes do pro-bono work if a case piques my interest, as yours did."

After reaching for a bottle of water on the table, and draining half of it on one pull, David asked, "What's so special about me?"

Joss availed himself of the opportunity to take a drink of his own before replying. "I find the stories being told of your companion quite fascinating. A woman with no identity appears out of nowhere and immediately recruits a, let's be honest, loner; someone living apart from society in his van. Then she senselessly attacks the home of a very influential local farmer. It all sounds quite farfetched. And I am nothing if not a sucker for a good conspiracy theory."

"You may be more right than you know," David sighed. "Before the guard fetched me to bring me in here, I was about two seconds from getting my face bashed in by my cell mate."

"Prison can be a very dangerous place."

"Yeah, but this asshole was also transported here with me, and the guard on the transport didn't react at all when Jabba said he was going to kick the shit out of me. Then I just so happen to end up in a holding cell, alone, with this guy?"

"Fascinating," Joss murmured as he began scribbling in his notebook. "I'll need the prisoner's name, and anything you can tell me about the guard on the transport."

"Foyle, but I'm not sure if that's his first or last name. As for the guard, I never got close enough to find out."

"Did this... Foyle... say why he was attacking you?"

"All these ignorant fucks think I'm middle-eastern. Add to that this bullshit story about a terrorist attack, and he thinks he's being a patriot by taking me out."

"But how would another prisoner know about your plan with this... I'm sorry... I've forgotten the lovely lady's name..."

Without hesitation, David replied, "Marge."

"Marge, huh. Are you suggesting that your name is in fact Mitch?"

"Foyle knew about the accusations leveled against me because he was told. Either by the guards or fucking Bonham. Obviously."

"Speaking of the charges, I suppose we should spend a moment preparing for your arraignment. To start with, you're to be charged with malicious destruction of property, conspiracy, providing material support to a person deemed a terrorist, and unlawful flight to evade prosecution. If convicted of all four, and the sentences run concurrently, you're likely facing at least twenty years. But judges aren't too keen on these cases to show leniency, so it's far more likely to run consecutively, which puts the total closer to forty-five. That being said, they're also likely to hit you with 'use of a weapon of mass destruction'. If they make that stick, it's mandatory life without parole."

"There was no W. M. D.," David complained. "Sarah had the ingredients for thermite in her fucking kitchen. Peh... Marge just combined and ignited them. But that's still just an incendiary device, not a fucking bomb! Not to mention the fact that Sarah had a fucking gun on me at the time and was threatening to illegally imprison me. We didn't do anything wrong, we just defended ourselves and got the hell out of there as soon as we could. There is no terrorist threat, just two people who want to be left alone."

"'Peh' as in Penelope, or Pepper. Perhaps even Penny?"

"As in piss off. You need not concern yourself with her. She didn't do anything to anyone."

"Ah, but I think you should concern yourself with her. This woman, let's call her Peggy? Paige? In any case, what do you really know about her? She appears out of nowhere in the middle of a thunderstorm in western Oklahoma, amidst some very suspicious circumstances. Are you aware of how dangerous a quantum surge is?"

"Where the hell did you hear that?"

"It's all in your file, David. A highly respected scientist happened to be in the vicinity at the time, and he is certain that his instruments detected the first test of your companion's weapon of mass destruction. According to him, it's stunning that neither you nor he was killed in the blast."

"Spent a lot of time talking to the so-called doctor Trassar, have you?"

"It's all in your file, David. You have a wealth of evidence aligned against you, more than enough to keep you in prison for decades. And I know that my office... I mean the prosecutor... would be more than willing to show leniency, but only if you demonstrate that you're willing to cooperate."

"Your office, huh. Who do you actually represent, counselor?"

"I want to see that justice is served, David. Something that any real American would also care about. Why are you protecting this woman? You've known her for what... a week?" When David refused to even acknowledge his presence, Joss pressed ahead. "Look... I get it. You were a lonely guy. You live alone, in your van. Hell, who knows how long it had been since a woman gave you the time of day? Then, out of nowhere, appears a woman who offers to make all your dreams come true. It's a tale as old as time. You can't be faulted for falling under her spell."

'She got away,' David silently repeated his sustaining mantra. 'They don't have her, and that's all that matters.'

"Tell me the truth," Joss continued, "when's the last time you got laid before... Pamela? Paula? Peta? Months? Years? Hell, I'd have gone crazy if I'd been in your shoes. Add to that the fact that this chick is stacked. A little chubby for my tastes, but I do love a great pair of knockers. So, this chick comes into your life and takes out her big-ol bazongas and starts playing with your pee-pee, it's no wonder you agreed to do anything she wanted.

"But she's dangerous, David. She's already attacked several loyal patriots who never did a God damn thing to her, and we know for a fact that she intends to strike again. What's more, I am certain that she never gave a damn about you. All you were was a means to an end. So stop lying to yourself, and start helping us. Tell us her real name, and what her target is, and I promise that when we go in front of the judge in a few minutes that I'll do everything in my power to get him to go easy on you. Wouldn't you prefer to get out of prison while you're still young, and maybe find yourself someone who actually loves this country to hook up with? David?"

"I want to speak to my lawyer," David growled.

"Bonham!" Joss called out.

The door opened immediately and the agent sauntered in. He looked around for a moment before sneering, "I told you it wouldn't work."

"It makes no difference. Please escort the prisoner to Judge Lychord's antechamber, and make sure he makes it without any visible injuries. Let's not have a repeat of last time. Ok Agent-Trainee?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Assistant U. S. Attorney Verraad."

Joss stood and left the room without bothering even to collect his papers. Bonham took David roughly by the arm and led him back out into the ornately appointed hallway and rushed him toward the north end of the building. They took an abrupt detour as they neared what prodigious signage suggested was their destination when the agent pushed David through an exterior door and out into the still-frigid Wyoming weather.

Bonham then zipped his coat up and set about lighting a cigarette, all while continuing to regard David with disdain. After taking a long drag, he commented, "Go ahead and run if you think you can outrun a bullet. Otherwise, stand there and wish you had a coat, you fucking traitor."

David did not deign to offer a reply, nor did he allow himself to display anything which would suggest that he was, in fact, freezing. Instead, he stood unmoving, sustaining himself with the certain knowledge that Petra did love him, and he loved her; and that so long as she remained free, nothing else could possibly matter.

Bonham was on his third cigarette when a bailiff stuck his head through the door and told them that the judge was waiting for them. David could not help chuckling snidely when Bonham's flicked cigarette hit him in the chest. The agent repaid him by roughly shoving him through the door and thence into a smaller-than-expected courtroom.

His eyes scanned around the room, and he was unsurprised to spot Sarah's smug face in the gallery. Trassar's presence was even less unexpected, although he would not previously have guessed that they were close enough to sit huddled like middle-schoolers gossiping about the new kid.

The judge had the same look to him as did Verraad: that undefinable quality which assured him that they had never wanted for anything, and that they wrapped themselves in feigned societal outrage as armor against their moral bankruptcy. He sat swaddled in his robes of office, which did little to hide his overflowing jowls or his receding hairline, but the look of derision told David all he needed to know about how he would be adjudicated.

"David Shyam," the clerk announced in a thin, reedy voice, "please step forward." The bailiff gestured to where David was meant to stand as the clerk continued.

Without looking up from his desk, the judge prompted, "Counselor?"

David replied, "I have been denied a lawyer, your honor. Despite repeatedly asking for one, as is my right."

"I was talking to Mr. Verraad, Mr. Shyam. You'll get your chance to talk."

"The people of the United States seek remandment until such time as the defendant provides material knowledge as to the location, and motives, of his accomplice. The documents submitted to the court demonstrate that there is an imminent threat, and that the defendant is materially aiding and abetting a known menace."

"Wait a minute!" David barked. "You guys haven't even charged me with anything!"

"Nor are we required to," Verraad replied smoothly. "Tell us where she is, and what her endgame is, or we return you to your cell. I have it on good authority that you have a warm welcome awaiting you."

"This is such bullshit!" David seethed. "Your Honor, they're conspiring with this skinhead to kill me once I get back to my cell."

The judge finally looked up and stared David down before offering, "Then tell them what they want to know."

"No! It is my right to speak to a lawyer, and to hear the charges brought against me. You can't do this to me!"

"I think you'll find that I very much can. The defendant is remanded without bail, to be held in federal custody until such time as he no longer presents an imminent threat to the people of the United States. Court is adjourned."

As Bonham led him back into the hallway, David silently repeated, 'She got away. I love her, and she loves me, and she's safe.'

He numbly allowed himself to be led back toward the holding cell. The knowledge of what awaited him there filled him with resignation, rather than foreboding. Even the grim thought of, 'If I have to spend life in prison, I guess I'd prefer it only last a couple hours, instead of half a century,' was not entirely unwelcome, considering his circumstances.

"You know you're gonna roll on that terrorist whore eventually, right?" Bonham muttered behind him. "No one can hold out forever. Not against the drugs. Hell, I had this guy in Kabul that was eager to die for his cause, and he sang like a canary once I shoved a needle in his arm. Of course, he didn't do much after that because the drugs..."

Bonham was interrupted by a soft pop which came from the direction of the courtroom from which they had just departed. Both men turned to see smoke filling the hallway. This was quickly followed by a series of flashes which came from the ceiling, and were rapidly advancing toward them. Without a word, Bonham took off down the corridor. David tried to follow, but he was hampered by the shackles around his ankles. Just as he reached an alcove which he hoped might offer some shelter, two thunderous booms rang out. This was quickly followed by two plumes of smoke filling the hall, one a few dozen paces in front of him and the other an equal distance behind him. He looked around for solace, only to find the door framed by the alcove into which he had taken shelter was slowly swinging open. Without hesitation he dove through the opening and slammed the door closed behind him before retreating cautiously from the chaos outside.

Before he could even check himself for injuries, a pair of strong hands grabbed him from behind and jerked him backwards. Just as he fell onto something soft, a brilliant flash blinded him and all of the cacophonous sounds from the corridor ended with disquieting suddenness. He started to struggle against both his unknown assailant and his diminished senses.

That rising panic vanished in an instant, however, when the voice of an angel whispered in his ear, "Please, David! I need you to be still, or you'll destabilize the tesseract!"

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Nine

"Petra?" David asked anxiously as he tried in vain to look around in the utter darkness surrounding them.

"Please, my love. You must be still."

He ceased his efforts to turn around to face her, but her frantic pleadings did nothing to quell his rising panic. "What are you doing here! They want to lock you up and throw away the key. And you walked right into their trap. You've got to get out of here!"

"David!" she barked sharply. "If you have ever had any love for me, then I need you to calm the fuck down, and trust me."

He bit back his retort and instead gritted out, "I hope you know very well that I love you. I was ready to die for you."

"I know," she replied tearfully. "If I let you go, will you promise to stay still?"

"I would do anything for you."

"Ok. Just... try to sit up, but keep your arms and legs tucked as close to you as possible."

He did his best to follow her instructions despite the complete lack of visual reference points. She sighed appreciatively when he lifted his weight off her and he soon found himself seated tandem before her. Her arms snaked around from behind him and he felt her tears wetting his neck.

"Oh, David," she whimpered. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too. But you've got to go, Petra. These assholes have done nothing but ask about you since my arrest. For all I know, they've got dozens of agents looking for you. And it won't take them very long to decide that you're responsible for those explosions. If you don't get the hell out of here, and I mean soon, then they'll connect the dots and then this place will be impossible to escape."

"I know. Please believe me when I say I know full well just how dedicated these agents are to capturing those they see as ideologically impure."

"Yeah... I think I might have crossed paths with the guy who will become the first Defender of Morality. Real disdain for women and a genuine affinity for trampling human rights."

"Did he... did they... hurt... you?"

"I am fine, Petra. They certainly wanted to hurt me, but..." He shook his head in frustration before saying excitedly, "What am I saying? I'm not fine. We are not remotely fine. What happened to my eyes? What do you intend to do about the dozens, if not hundreds, of armed guards who are likely surrounding us as we speak?"

"I asked you to trust me."

"And I will always trust you, Petra. But I can't help but notice that you haven't said anything like, 'We're going to be ok', or 'There's actually no danger at all, and here's why...'."

"I know," she sighed. "I cannot lie to you, David. We are still in a great deal of danger; just not in the way you're imagining."

"Can we start with why my eyes don't work?"

"I suspect they work just fine."

"But I haven't been able to see anything since those last two blasts."

"That's because there's no light on in here."

"Petra, there's a world of difference between 'the lights are turned off' and 'my eyes perceive no light of any kind'."

"I do have a small light, but we must use it sparingly. If I turn it on for just a moment, will that convince you that I haven't blinded you?"

"I wasn't blaming you."

"I'll take that as a yes. You should close your eyes. This will likely seem quite bright, even after so short a time."

He dutifully shut his eyes tight and said, "I'm ready."

Moments later, a dazzling light pierced his eyelids. He opened his eyes carefully before whispering, "Holy shit! Where are we?"

His eyes beheld an utterly featureless curved wall which seemed to surround them. The wall seemed to suck up the light from Petra's torch, rather than reflecting it. He turned his head to find that the space curved around them. More importantly, however, he saw Petra's face, obscured by the shadow of his own head. Her expression did little to calm him. She looked weary, like she had not slept in weeks, and her face was almost gaunt with worry. But her smile still charmed his soul.

After giving him another reassuring squeeze, she said, "We're in the office of the Honorable Hobart Humphrey Harrison, who I suspect hates his parents for hanging such a preposterous name on him."

"I meant..." he began.

"We're also inside a relativistic shard, which is currently being stabilized by a Faraday-Lado containment field, but..."

"Wait! We're inside a time machine?"

"Not remotely. The shard is..."

"But you told me the day you arrived that the Faraday - Layla..."

"Faraday-Lado," she corrected.

"What you said," he continued. "You told me that was how you travelled through time."

"Do you want to know how time travel works, or why the danger we face is fundamentally different from what you're imagining?"

"Um... both? Which one is more urgent?"

"Unless I've made a mistake in my calculations, or my fabrication, then we'll remain here for at least thirty-six hours. Sixty would be better, as that takes us into the weekend. So, in theory, we're not really operating under any sense of urgency."

"And... in the extremely unlikely event that you did make a mistake?"

"Then the tesseract will collapse and we'll be killed instantly."

"I see," he said slowly. "Why don't we start with why we're inside a perfectly featureless sphere which I'm tall enough to touch both sides of?"

"Please don't attempt to do so. It is unlikely that the tesseract will collapse if you touch it, but..."

"Take no chances. Right. Gotcha."

"Do you mind if I kill the torch? It's rated for twelve hours, so we need to conserve whenever we can."

"Go ahead," he replied reasonably. When the light was extinguished, however, he reflexively muttered, "Jesus, that's dark."

"Indeed," she replied after hugging him tighter. "So, what would you like to know?"

"Everything. But maybe start with how we're going to exist in a space the size of a hatchback for two-and-a-half days. I know technically people don't die of thirst in that amount of time, but..."

"I have rations. There's even a very crude, but hopefully effective, toilet; which is what I've been sitting on. It will be unpleasant, and uncomfortable, but I was unable to come up with a more elegant plan to rescue you which had a higher probability of success."

"I wasn't judging, Petra. This is amazing, incredible. I just can't figure out how you did it. I thought all your tech was destroyed."

"It was. I lost everything when the containment field was destabilized by the presence of an unshielded reactor in my capsule."

"Wait," he pleaded, "I thought you didn't know what happened."

She continued, as though he had not spoken, "Then I found my love, my soulmate, my everything, in you, David. And, for the first time in my life, I was happy. For eight perfect days, I was happy. And so were you."

"Of course," he rasped. "You're everything I'd stopped dreaming could exist for me, Petra. I love you, I will always love you."

"I love you too, David. You have no idea what it feels like to finally have you in my arms again. I thought I'd lost you forever."

"Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. I just hope someone doesn't come barging in here in a couple minutes and rip us apart again."

"Were someone to enter the office of the Honorable Hobart Humphrey Harrison..."

He snorted and asked, "You're really going to say that whole thing every time?"

The smile was obvious in her voice as she replied, "You bet your handsome fucking ass I will. Anyway, when someone comes into his office, as has no doubt happened more than once since my little diversion, they will see nothing unexpected. Even if the Honorable Hobart Humphrey Harrison returns, something I find highly unlikely, I cannot imagine that he would notice a small square of wood flooring which was carefully cut out earlier this morning, and has now been replaced."

"And why did you cut out a piece of quadruple-H's floor?"

She replied, "The reason a relativistic shard is necessary for time travel is because the Morris-Musashi nexus are typically microscopic, only a few angstroms wide. One in thirty-seven hundred is large enough to fit the end of your thumb. Only one in seventy trillion is large enough to fit a human. So the only reasonable way for a human to travel through time is to be very small.

"That's why I had to adapt a very secretive Chinese experiment that I uncovered, Project 701-M, Mark II. They were trying to shrink living matter as a way to ease their population pressure. They threw enough money at the problem that they eventually solved it in the guise of a relativistic shard which is created by using two supercolliders to accelerate thorium atoms to half the speed of light and smash them together. This shard, once stabilized, can then be manipulated to expand or contract. But they eventually abandoned the project because they never figured out how to stabilize it for more than a few minutes.

"Once I uncovered the project documents (which an outraged dissident had dumped online when he saw that they spent what today would be several trillion dollars on what he saw as a failed experiment) I figured out a way to stabilize the shard using a Faraday-Lado containment field.

"Our shard is currently holding steady at a reduction of ninety-nine-point-three-six to one. So this sphere is about the size of a marble. And, once I contracted the tesseract, it dropped into the hole I prepared and the spring I mounted on the piece I cut out hopefully caused it to snap back into place."

He looked over his shoulder, despite the absence of light meaning he could not see the face of his beloved, and asked, "So, we're the size of ants right now?"

"Roughly," she conceded.

"Why do you say hopefully with respect to the piece of floor swinging closed, but not about whether we actually dropped into the hidey-hole you created?"

"Didn't you feel us falling as soon as I contracted the field? I padded the bottom of the hole with some cotton, but it was still the equivalent of jumping out a two story window."

"I'll be honest, I was a little disoriented at the time. Is that lid why we can't see any lights from outside the shard?"

He felt her shake her head behind him before she said, "The Faraday-Lado containment field blocks all forms of radiation, including light photons. We could be in the middle of a Kansas field at noon on a cloudless day in the middle of the summer, and there would still be zero light permeating from outside the field. Ask me how I know."

"Fascinating. So... you have to make things very small to pass through these time nexuses... nexi... nexus?"

He could hear her smile as she replied, "Nexus is both singular and plural."

"Right. So you have to be super small to pass through it, which you accomplish via the relativistic shard, and you have to use the containment field to stabilize the shard."

"Exactly!" she enthused.

"So, why'd you need a spaceship?"

"Because not all nexus are close to the ground. And each nexus represents a five-dimensional translation. Strangely, none of them exit in deep space, or in the middle of the Earth, but some of them come out deep underwater, or very high in the stratosphere. The fifth dimension of the translation is something I also discovered in my testing when I sent a stone the size of a... well... about the same size as we are right now. In any case, I found a nexus that would send it just a few weeks back in time, so I grabbed the opportunity to do some real-world testing. I had to come up with an excuse to make the trip to Tennessee (which, my husband, to his credit, agreed to with little fuss).

"When I found it, however, the stone was so charred it was nearly unrecognizable. It took me over a year to develop the math to predict the exit velocity from a nexus. That's one of the reasons we met. The nexus I had originally targeted took me thirty years further back in time, but it had an exit velocity of nearly seventy percent of the speed of light. The one which brought me to you was barely a brisk walk.

"As to the question of why use a space capsule: the nexus I used to find you, my soulmate nexus, had a very reasonable exit vector. Not only barely moving, but also pleasantly close to the ground. Unfortunately, its entry vector was quite a bit more challenging. I had to launch my capsule nearly straight up, and well above the speed of sound, to travel in a ballistic arc and hit the nexus on my way back down, right before I smashed into a cornfield."

"So, if you missed it..."

"I was dead either way, David. Why not take the chance that my dreams would come true in the past?"

"I love you so much, and I am in awe of how brave you are."

"I love you too. It feels so good to finally say it again!"

'What do you mean?"

"Oh, David," she sighed. "There's so much more I need to tell you. I've thought through what I'd say in this moment a thousand times, but seeing you again has scrambled my wits."

"But I'm confused, Petra. I feel like I'm missing something, but I can't tell if it's sleep deprivation, or the effects of this shard, or what."

"Please, just let me get through this and I swear I'll answer any questions you may have. We were talking about... oh, yes... my decision to use a space capsule. In addition to the entry vector for the nexus I had selected requiring the use of a ballistic vessel, that charred rock also spooked me. No one had ever transmitted a nexus before. I had no way of knowing what forces I would be subjected to, or what kind of radiation. I was just trying to play it safe. I guess it's ironic that it never occurred to me that failing to contain the pocket reactor I brought with me (in hopes of doing another time jump back to the nineties) in its own containment field was what caused everything to go to hell in a handbasket. Not that I ever would have gone further back without you, my love."

"You mentioned that before. When did you figure out what caused the explosion?"

"I knew I only had one chance to rescue you, David. That's why I did significant testing before attempting another time jump, because I knew I had to bring the equipment to create a shard back with me, and I couldn't afford another incident. Not when so much was on the line."

"Another jump?" he sputtered. "Petra... what aren't you telling me?"

"I know the last sixteen hours have been absolute hell for you David, and I am so sorry I could not figure out a way to rescue you sooner."

"You rescued me, that's what's important. I was willing to spend years if that's what it took to keep you safe, Petra. I love you. Like I said, I was ready to die for you."

"I know," she sobbed.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Her embrace intensified to crushing levels as she whimpered, "I know you would die for me David, because you did die. Today, almost this very moment, when they took you back to your cell. They turned a blind eye as you were beaten to death by a fellow inmate. Five-and-a-half years ago, those piece-of-shit, fascist assholes took you from me, and I've spent every mother-fucking second since dedicated to the cause of rescuing you."

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Forty

"Five-and-a-half years," David sighed. "Jesus..."

Petra hugged him tighter and whimpered, "I'm sorry I couldn't figure out a way to keep you from being arrested."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I just... I can't imagine how awful that must have been for you. When did you find out... um... what happened to me?"

"Before I even made it to Canada. It was on the news networks."

"So you've been living with the knowledge that I fucking died for half a decade? Fuck. I don't even know what to say. Can I... is it possible for us to shift around so I can hold you?"

"But you haven't seen me yet. I've changed, David."

He turned awkwardly to reach over his shoulder to caress her face before whispering, "I am devastated by what you must have gone through, but..."

"What?"

"How could you think I'd love you any less, no matter what happened to you?"

"Oh, David," she gushed before gripping his hand and placing a gentle kiss on his palm.

"I need to hold you, Petra. Please."

It was challenging for her to shift around him without either of them coming close to the tesseract barrier, but both partners were determined. As he pulled her into his arms, he was gutted to realize that the exquisite curves he had spent long hours worshipping seemed to have vanished, replaced by a body that was skinny to the point of being frail. Furthermore, her waist-length hair was long gone. He slid his hands up her back, and did not find any hint of her hair until he reached her collar.

Upon feeling his touch at the back of her neck, she whimpered, "I'm so sorry. I cut it. A few years ago, I had a setback with my experiments, and I experienced a moment of weakness."

It was a testament to their enduring bond that he managed to find her lips in complete darkness on the first attempt. The kiss they shared was brief, and chaste, but he felt the weight of long years of loneliness flowing from her, prompting unashamed tears to spill down his face.

He pulled back by less than a heartbeat before murmuring, "It wrecks me to think of what you went through, but please never spend even a single second thinking that I would judge you based on how long your hair is, or if you weren't eating enough. You're my Petra, and I will love you forever." When her only response was to slump against him as she cried silently, he asked, "What was the setback?"

"I found a nexus which I had hoped to use to test my hypothesis for what happened to my capsule on my initial jump. But my railgun malfunctioned and the capsule missed the nexus. I was despondent. And, in the midst of my hysterics, I might have... shaved part of my head. When Alejandra discovered what I'd done..."

"Alejandra? You found her?"

"Yes. She is... was... my best friend in the world. She saved me. I would have been lost without her."

After a noticeable pause, he offered, "I'm glad she was there for you."

"You know... I can almost believe that you care about me so much that you'd figure out a way to be happy if I took comfort in the arms of another."

"Of course. It's only been a day for me. But, for you, it's been..."

"Two thousand and seventeen-point-four-nine-nine-three days. Give or take a few seconds."

"I swear on my eyes that I am absolutely sincere in my happiness that you found comfort in Alejandra's arms."

"And I believe you without hesitation. Fortunately for you, neither she nor I possess even a hint of the bisexual gene. So your touch is still the only one I've ever known... will ever know."

"I'm truly sorry for the loneliness you endured. I can't even imagine what that must have been like."

"I suppose it helped that I was quite busy with planning and carrying out your rescue. That didn't change how desperately I missed you, but at least it gave me something to focus on."

"So," he began, sensing she desired a change in topic, "how'd you manage to hook up with Alejandra?"

"After I watched those inbred, fuck-faced, shit-stained, son-of-a-bitch assholes..."

His bark of laughter cut her off, and it took him a moment to get control of his chuckles. "I'm sorry. It's just... I never realized how much it entertained me to have a partner who had such a delightfully unique way of speaking until now. Not that I love you any less now that you talk the way I used to, but..."

"I can try to change back. I just got tired of people looking at me like I was a freak, or even Alejandra's well-meaning teasing. I think I also decided at some point that those words were just for you. I'll do my best to reprogram myself."

"I'm not asking you to change, Petra. I'll love you from this moment until my last, no matter how you speak."

"But speaking like I used to makes you happy. And if you think I'm not going to chase your smiles like they're the most valuable thing in the universe from now on, then you're out of your... fragging mind."

"I think we've gone far afield of the original topic."

"I know," she sighed contentedly. "I think I'm just drunk on the endorphins of actually speaking to you, touching you, again that I'm not making sense."

"I disagree. I think you're almost certainly the most fundamentally rational person I've ever met."

"So... meeting Alejandra..." she sighed after nestling further into his arms. "Emmy had led me..."

"Oh, my God! Emmy! Is she ok?"

"I'm sorry, David. Alejandra helped us both sneak into Canada, and Emmy was my rock for those first few months as Alejandra and I gradually got to know each other. She led a very pampered life, receiving everything a dog could ever hope for. When her vet found the first tumor, I spared no expense. But they just kept getting worse and I had to say goodbye to her two years ago."

After pausing to wipe away his tears, he whispered, "I know you gave her the life she deserved. If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't have had three-and-a-half years of boundless love." They took a moment to mourn before he prompted, "You said she'd led you far from the hotel?"

"Yes. We were far from the lights, but I could still see you well enough to know what was happening. My initial impulse was to rush to your aid, but there were so many agents."

"I'm glad you stayed put, Petra. You were their primary target. The whole time I was locked up, that's all anyone wanted to know: where you were, and what your next target was. Those stupid fragging assholes were convinced you were going to blow up Chicago or some shit."

"Greed and stupidity masquerading as fear make a potent combination."

"So, to your point, there were a ton of agents. How'd you get away?"

"I got very lucky. After they put you in the cruiser and took you away, I ran into the woods behind the hotel. It was only a few minutes before I came to a small house. I was debating knocking on the door when a man stepped out and confronted me. My heart sank, because this guy was absolutely radiating, 'get ready to be either arrested or locked in a basement' energy. When he connected the dots between me bursting from the woods and the heavy police presence, I thought I was done for. But it turned out he was a staunch libertarian. The mere fact that the feds were looking for me established my bona fides. He told me to get inside, something I only did because I had no choice, before proceeding to scream at the cops that chased me there. This guy threatened to kill them if they didn't get off his land, and I swear he was dead serious."

"I've met not-a-few men like that. They don't exactly give off a soothing energy."

"Indeed," she concurred. "In any case, once he got the police to leave, he let me use his phone. I managed to get through to Alejandra and explain what had happened. I'll never know why she took such a big risk, knowing next to nothing about me, but she had a car at this guy's house in ten minutes. They drove us for a few hours until we got to this tiny airport where we were loaded onto a very small airplane, which took off almost at once. A couple hours later, we landed in Winnipeg where Alejandra had already squared things with the extremely courteous border patrol gentlemen." After falling silent for a moment, Petra added, "I have no idea why she didn't kick me out of the car before we even got to her house, considering that I had what amounts to a nervous breakdown before we left the airport."

"Well deserved, I would say."

"I happen to know that you did no such thing, David. Your file was very clear on how stalwart you were with them. Even when that mother-fuck... fragging prosecutor tried to trick you, you didn't budge an inch."

"I'll be honest, he wasn't overly convincing."

"I'm not surprised, based on the footage I saw of him celebrating your death."

"So, what now. If my fate was to die, but that was thwarted by pulling me into the relativistic shard, then does that mean we have to travel back to five-and-a-half years in the future to prevent causing a paradox?"

"There is no going forward, David. The math which describes the existence of the Morris-Musashi time nexus, and articulates the five-dimensional translation, precludes the existence of a nexus which does not contain a negative value in the fourth dimension. It was suggested, by those that discovered the phenomena, that traveling forward in time was akin to exceeding the speed of light: something that was simply impossible."

"That's why you said Alejandra used to be your best friend. She doesn't know you from Adam today."

"More to the point, she's currently meeting me at the airport in Winnipeg."

"So, we can't contact her because it could keep you from carrying out your mission to save me?"

"I don't think so. My suspicion is that I, we, have already fundamentally changed this reality. The explosions in the courthouse, and your disappearance, will fundamentally alter the futures of several people. That... shaz... stain, Verraad, built his career on your death. He made his way very high up in the Attorney General's office before his ambition exceeded his utility and he was executed. That's now extremely unlikely. Ironically, we may have saved his life."

"But... I'm confused. Are you suggesting that you've spawned a new timeline?"

She shrugged before replying, "The guiding principle of all science is observability. If you can't observe it, it isn't science. Thus the only (and most ironic) paradox of time travel is that any theory relating to multiple timelines, or the so-called multi-verse, is by definition unobservable. Because you can only go backwards, the only way to go forward in time is to live every day. Q. E. D., if the future I remember doesn't come to pass, there is no way to know if that means that I created another universe, or timeline, through my actions, or if everything I remember simply ceased to exist because it turns out that there's only one timeline. There isn't even any rational basis for favoring one hypothesis over the other."

"But, either way, you're suggesting that there's still another Petra in this world who is, at this moment, in Canada?"

"Yes," she agreed somberly.

"And we can't be certain, one way or the other, if allowing that Petra to learn of our existence would prevent you from being able to rescue me in the first place?"

"I have theories, but they're untestable. So, to answer your question, no: we can't be certain. That is why my plan for phase two of your rescue doesn't include Alejandra at all."

"Then what the hell do we do in two days when you decide it's time to, um, de-shard us?"

"I just say 'expand'," she replied with a chuckle. "Once we're free of the shard, step one will obviously be to ensure the building is empty."

"What if it isn't? Hell... what if the office isn't empty?"

He heard the smile in her voice as she asked, "I launched a space capsule that I was in at a velocity significantly in excess of the speed of sound into a ballistic arc that was aimed at a nexus the size of a plum and which was only head-height off the ground. Do you honestly think I'd do all that with no way to discern what was happening outside the shard?"

"Um... no? But you said it blocks all electromagnetic waves."

"It does, but in practice that means anything above about one hundred thousand hertz. I built sensors which are keeping a close watch on our surroundings, and which transmit at around seventy-five thousand hertz. Before I expand the shard, I'll check all the sensors to make sure the coast is clear."

"That still leaves getting out of the building, to say nothing of the country."

"Indeed."

After a momentary silence, David offered excitedly, "We could try making our escape and then, after we've had a shower and something to eat, shrinking ourselves back down and shipping the whole shard to Canada."

Petra chuckled good-naturedly and replied, "Methinks that might be pushing the inherent instability of the shard past its likely failure point. But trust me, David. I would not have come so far without a plan to get you to safety."

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Forty-One

"Are you ready?" Petra asked with a palpable tremor in her voice.

"I would imagine that you are more than ready," David replied gravely, "after being stuck in here with me for the best part of three days."

"I would spend a lifetime locked in here with you, if the alternative was another day spent apart."

He pulled her close and whispered into her ear, "I'm sorry, Petra. That was insensitive of me. You know I feel the same way. Don't you? I was just trying to lighten the mood."

"I know, and I appreciate it."

"You're sure there's no one in the room?"

"I am sure that the sensors I placed around the room have not detected movement in the last seventeen-point-two-eight hours, nor have they detected a heat signature which would be expected were a human to be hiding in the room."

"Good enough for me," he sighed. "So, how will this... holy shit!"

In the span between one heartbeat and the next, the light-less void in which they had spent every second of the preceding sixty-two hours popped like an opaque soap bubble. There was no noise to herald the event; the impenetrable sphere surrounding them simply ceased to exist. Petra had walked him through the mechanics of the relativistic shard, and the Faraday-Lado containment field which surrounded it. The process of expanding (or contracting) the shard happened instantaneously, and dropping the containment field happened more quickly than human senses could comprehend.

Even the scant amount of light which existed in an interior office at thirty-four minutes after three in the morning felt like the sun at midday after so long in the dark, and both companions gasped in pain at the assault their eyes endured. But the pain was easily endured when compared to the sheer ecstasy of being able to stand fully erect. As he tried to blink away the spots in his vision, David allowed himself the luxury of a long-overdue full-body stretch.

Petra was the first to recover and quickly set about putting her plan into motion. David heard a scratching sound, and was spurred into action to assist her.

"I've got this," he assured her as he took over the duty of relocating the well-used, and decidedly unpleasant-smelling toilet into the judge's closet.

She took a moment to stuff the last of their garbage into a sack before cinching it closed. When David returned from stowing the commode, she was in the process of flipping over the disc which had been their whole world since she had rescued him. The entire assembly was made of carbon fiber, but still weighed as much as a kindergartner thanks to an assembly no larger than a briefcase (which contained a battery powerful enough to run the power grid of the small city where they were located for at least a week, or provide enough energy for the two ultra-compact supercolliders that were also housed within to accelerate a pair of thorium atoms to half the speed of light) affixed to the bottom. Releasing catches on the bottom of the device allowed them to fold in the edges so that it would slide into a duffel Petra produced from her backpack.

They did a final check of their surroundings before dressing in lightweight black coveralls and donning black gloves and balaclavas. David scooped up the duffel while Petra slipped on the backpack. After a quick check of a small tablet, which was connected to a cluster of sensors that had somehow remained undetected in the hallway outside the office, they stepped into the corridor.

Their footfalls on the polished marble floor seemed thunderous to David's ears, but no alarms sounded. Petra directed him to a pair of columns where he had to reach high above his head to collect her sensors. After inspecting the devices, which matched the columns' color scheme perfectly and were no larger than a watch battery, he gained a renewed understanding for just how much effort (and money) had gone into his rescue.

She led them with the quiet confidence of someone who had planned every step of their extraction with excruciating detail. They passed four exterior doors before she finally turned down a side hall. She had explained during their confinement that there was little to be done about the building's surveillance cameras. Her plan relied on the fact that only one guard worked Saturday nights, and he was prone to napping. They knew that a playback of the cameras would reveal their escape; they simply hoped that after so long after David's disappearance, it would not occur to anyone of consequence to check the tapes. Moreover, they intended to be hell and gone from the building before any such review could reasonably take place.

Petra stopped abruptly next to an exit which, according to the helpfully posted sign, was only meant for deliveries. David stood watch while she went to work on the alarm using a small tool kit. His heartbeat sounded thunderous in his ears, but not so much that he could not hear the snoring of the guard at the opposite end of the corridor.

He heard a soft SNICK, immediately followed by the keening wail of the building's alarm.

"Shaz!" Petra hissed. She turned to David and snapped, "Come on. We have to get the frag out of here. Now!"

He rushed at the door and slammed his hip into the panic bar. After giving silent thanks that the door actually burst open, he held his hand out to his companion and pulled her to her feet. She led him out into the darkness of the overcast early morning, setting a pace which quickly left him winded. He gave no thoughts to slowing however, as the alarm was sounding from speakers dotted along the façade of the courthouse.

She ran away from the building and into an alley on the opposite side of the street. No sooner had they entered the relative shelter of the stinking alley than the first voices called out from behind them.

"Hurry," she panted anxiously.

"Why," he gasped in reply, "don't we... just... reactivate... the shard?"

"Not enough... power left... keep going... almost there."

David focused all his energy on keeping up with Petra, who was racing headlong down the alley. Garbage strewn all over the broken tarmac threatened to trip them up, thanks in part to the complete lack of usable light. They also heard grumbles from a few unhoused individuals whose sleep they interrupted, but they lacked the breath in their lungs to even offer an apology.

She abruptly skidded to a stop as they reached a large dumpster, and frantically waved to him to join her huddling behind it.

"Why... did we... stop?" he wheezed.

As she reached into her bags, she huffed, "Stay... here..."

He obeyed without hesitation, but he could not prevent the whispered oath from passing his lips when an aged hatchback appeared out of thin air on the opposite side of the dumpster.

"Get in the driver's seat! Just move up a car length or so, and keep the lights off." she whispered urgently as she raced for the passenger-side door.

He found the keys in the ignition and sighed in relief when the engine turned over without incident. After rolling forward a few paces, she darted behind the car and scooped up a package the size of a briefcase.

She dove into the passenger seat and hissed, "Go!"

"Where are we going?" he replied as he put the car in gear and set off down the alley as quickly as possible in the near total darkness.

"Stay in the alley until it ends, then turn right. I apologize, we'll likely have to hold any questions until later. Our route is quite complex."

"You know where all the cameras are, don't you?"

"Yes," she replied distractedly. "Second left."

Resisting the urge to insist on an explanation caused the beginnings of a headache, but the logic of her assertion was quickly proven with an endless, rapid sequence of turns which took them generally northwest. The degree of difficulty involved in following the meandering path was heightened by the absence of headlights to illuminate their trip through the inky black early morning. Sounds of sirens in the distance spurned them to push the ancient hatchback to its limits, but the endless turns kept their average speed frustratingly low; a fact which became all the more concerning as the sirens grew louder.

"Petra?" he whispered anxiously.

"Just keep going. We're nearly there."

"Keep the lights off?"

"Yeah, and don't worry about the brake lights. I disabled them. Next right."

The sirens were coming from all sides, and growing ever louder as David pulled into the entrance to a park alongside the river which ran through town. His gratitude that they had at least reached their destination was short-lived, however.

"Um, there's a gate across the entrance, Petra."

"Shaz! Why didn't I think of that!? We have to get inside! Can you go around the gate?"

"Through the grass? Maybe. Assuming I can jump the curb."

"They're getting closer, David! We must get inside."

"What if we blow a tire?"

"It doesn't matter, we just have to get in."

"All right. Hang on."

He gunned the engine and raced toward the curb to the left of the gate. They were both nearly thrown from their seats, and he heard a sickening crunch from beneath the engine bay, but the hatchback managed to make it over the curb. An awful grinding filled the cabin as David drove them back off the grass and onto the tarmac leading into the park.

"I think we collapsed the suspension on the front driver's side wheel," he observed grimly.

"Yes, and we're grinding on the wheel well. Just get us to the boat ramp as quickly as you can."

"Boat ramp?" he muttered in confusion as he pushed the hatchback past its limits to hurry further into the park.

"Yes. We have to hide this car to cover our tracks."

"Uh... ok?"

"Please, David. Just trust me."

"You know I do."

By the time they made it to the boat ramp, he could see the strobing of emergency vehicle lights through the trees.

She directed him to the top of the ramp before grunting, "Set the hand brake so we can get our stuff out."

It took only seconds to unload the hatchback, and shortly he was back behind the wheel. He carefully disengaged the handbrake and slid to the side of the seat in preparation of jumping free once the vehicle started rolling. When he released the brakes, however, all that happened was a brief lurch followed by a weary groan from the front left of the car as it ground to a halt.

"Fuck! The wheel's stuck!"

"We have to push it," Petra hissed frantically. "Come on!"

They pushed with all their might, but the car refused to budge.

After several frantic moments of struggling in vain to get the car to move, he panted, "It's for shit, Petra. Why don't I just turn on the engine and back up a bit. Once it gets some momentum, I'll hop out and it'll roll into the water."

"No! It's too dangerous. We just have to push harder."

"The cops are getting closer. You know this is the only way."

"Fine," she conceded in frustration. "Just please be careful."

He hopped in the driver's seat and started the engine. The grinding sounded like thunder to his ears as he backed the car up a few dozen paces to build up some speed. He made sure the door was open, and the window all the way down, before slamming the gearshift into first and stomping on the accelerator. The hatchback dutifully jolted forward when he dumped the clutch, but he knew in his heart that it would come to an instant halt if he let off the throttle. It took only a single glance in Petra's direction, taking in the fear he could intuit from her posture despite the fact that she was clad in black from head-to-toe, for him to make his decision.

"David!" she shouted in panic as he crested the top of the ramp and barrelled toward the water without making a token effort to jump free of the car.

"Holy shit that's cold," he gasped as the hatchback splashed into the water.

Instinct prompted him to claw his way out of the car before it sank. But, as he scrambled for his footing in waist-deep water, he was stunned to discover that the hatchback was floating. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he ignored the icy water and set his feet before giving the back of the vehicle a mighty shove. He was heartened to see it drift a dozen paces out into the frigid river before the roof finally slipped beneath the gentle waves.

He sloshed noisily toward the shore to find Petra waiting for him with fire in her eyes.

"That wasn't the plan," she seethed.

"It wouldn't have made it into the water otherwise, and those cops are getting closer. If I promise to accept whatever punishment you levy later, perhaps we could get the frag out of here."

"You're going to get hypothermia," she sighed worriedly as she scooped up her backpack and, after waiting for him to grab both duffels containing the equipment to create a relativistic shards, led him toward the woods.

She set a rapid pace heading upstream along the river, something that attenuated his worsening shivering (albeit by the tiniest of margins). He had no idea how she navigated, as they did not seem to be following a path. And, as had been true since they departed the office of the Honorable Hobart Humphrey Harrison, they made zero use of illumination.

By the time they reached a clearing along the banks of the river, he was shaking uncontrollably. He had only the dim awareness of a large formless mass obscured by the darkness and the close foliage. Petra rushed over and worked frantically to pull what he dimly realized was a tarp off of what was soon revealed to be an S. U. V. that was older than he was. She tore open one of the doors and rummaged around inside for a moment before emerging with a blanket.

"Get your clothes off," she commanded as he stumbled in her direction.

"Huh?"

"You're fragging freezing to death," she snapped as she started shucking her own coverup. "Now, please, get naked for me."

"Well," he muttered through chattering teeth, "since you put it that way."

He had no memory of undressing, but he would remember the warmth of her unclothed skin against his shivering body until the day he died. Her attempt to quell the shocked hiss in response to his clammy skin was only partially successful, but it was enough for him to make an effort to pull back from her to spare her the discomfort.

"Quit wiggling," she pleaded. "I've got to get you warmed up."

The chill gradually left his body as they stood nude, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, in what would have been (under different circumstances) a beautiful setting. As the nearness of his soulmate drove back the effects of the icy river, he took a moment to survey their surroundings. The clearing was quite small, no larger than a basketball court, and it abutted the river. The S. U. V. was of a variety favored by overlanders, and looked to have been the beneficiary of not-a-few modifications aimed at bolstering its off-road bona fides. It was also packed to the gills with equipment, leaving only the two front seats empty.

David pulled Petra closer and his heart swelled at the appreciative sigh which escaped her lips. He knew that the effects of the river were fading as his awareness of her nude body against his caused the predicted physiological reaction.

He smiled down at her and, after placing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, murmured, "So, uh... what now?"

She wiggled against him, pressing her belly against his erection, before replying, "As much as it pains me, not that. We must put as much distance between us and our pursuers as possible before sunrise."

"I place myself in your capable hands, angel."

"Then get in."

"Shouldn't we get dressed first?"

"I once made a promise to the man of my dreams that I would never cover my body in his presence unless societal customs demanded it, or he told me to get dressed. Is that what you're doing?"

"Of course not, Petra. Please never doubt that you're my fantasy come to life, that everything you do makes me happier than words can convey."

She popped him affectionately on the butt before enthusing, "Then get in the car, handsome. We've got some ground to cover. Then, at long fragging last, we'll finally take that shower together."

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Forty-Two

"I don't think this is the summit we're looking for," David muttered, almost to himself.

"No, shaz," Petra grumbled as she slotted the S. U. V. back into second gear to slow their descent into yet another valley.

"I wasn't criticizing," he offered lamely.

She sighed wearily before replying, "I know. I'm just so fragging tired of driving."

"I offered to take over."

"And you were shivering so bad at the time that I was certain you'd inadvertently steer us into a gulley. Besides, it's not the driving I mind so much as still being in the car. I said we'd stop by sunrise, and it's mid-fragging-morning already. And still no campsite. I don't even know if we're close, or going the right way."

"I'd never given much thought to developing my navigational skills, considering I've spent my adult life relying on G. P. S., but I am at least confident that we're headed north, since the sun remains steadfastly behind my right shoulder."

"I suppose there is that."

"What's so special about this campsite? There was a clearing in the last valley that seemed ok."

"No water."

"Didn't you say you've got my weight in water back there?"

"This trip could take weeks, handsome. We need to conserve whenever possible. Besides, I promised you a shower with a needy naked chick. It wouldn't be very strategic of us to use up half our supplies just so you could enjoy some shower head... I mean prick-slurping."

He paused for a moment before tentatively saying, "Please don't take this as a rebuke. But, having sampled this region's river water, I'm having trouble seeing how either of us could be in a sexy mood showering in that."

"I've got a stove and a camp shower. We bring the temp up until we can barely stand the heat, then we enjoy a paradise. But we have to find the fragging campsite first!"

"Hey, look on the bright side... we haven't heard a siren since before sunrise."

"There is that," she allowed.

David paused for a moment to consider the pros and cons of the subject change that had been battering at the walls of his consciousness, desperate to get out, since the excitement of their escape had started its long, slow slide into the tedium of endless hours spent bouncing over forest roads. He knew that Petra likely had her reasons for not broaching the subject in the nearly seventy hours since they had been reunited. But he hoped that her motivations were a misplaced fear at his reaction, rather than genuine deception. Her growing anxiety also pleaded for anything to distract her from worrying over whether her meticulously crafted plan had gone awry.

"Petra?" he began gently. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"I have spent the last five-and-a-half years missing everything about you, handsome. Including your always-soothing voice. I love it when you talk to me. Always."

"Well... same. Anyway, I was wondering how long... um... since you..."

"Eight days," she interrupted somberly. "Do you hate me?"

"To the contrary. You already said that your research suggested there was no possibility of averting my arrest without endangering the future. I'm actually quite impressed you managed to put all this together in so short a time. To say nothing of the expense."

"The cars weren't the challenging part. One of the good things about being from the future is the unknowns you can eliminate. Things like memorizing the V. I. N. s of a few cars I knew were on sale near where I crash-landed, and..."

"Wait... you never said anything about crash-landing!"

"Relax," she replied soothingly. "The time jump went precisely to plan."

"But you said, and I quote, 'crash'."

"The nexus I was forced to use... wasn't ideal. Alejandra called it suicide, and it was indeed extremely dangerous. It had a reasonably unchallenging entry vector, but it exited at over three-times the speed of sound, and at the top of the stratosphere. I again made use of a space capsule, which gave me access to the parachutes they use to slow their descent during reentry. But those are made to splash down in the ocean, not the side of a mountain, so it was still quite a... rough... landing. After a fortunately stout tree kept it from sliding into that ravine, I got all my stuff out and set off a thermite charge to destroy the evidence. Then I just had a seventeen hour walk to the closest town where I could buy the hatchback, all while dragging a wagon behind me which held very nearly my body weight in equipment... once I got everything off the mountain, that is."

"My goodness, Petra. That's incredible."

With firm conviction, she declared, "I would have carried that hatchback on my back across the face of the moon if that's what it took to save you."

"I know," he assured her hoarsely. "And I would do the same for you."

After a pause for an unhurried kiss, which nearly caused them to take out a small sapling, she righted their course and said, "As I was saying about the future, I had the benefit of being able to zero in on cars that, in another life, made a few additional trips around the equator. So I knew they didn't have any major mechanical issues."

"That's... brilliant," he whispered in admiration. "But how did you pay for it?"

"As you've likely surmised, I altered my original plan of only sharing the Faraday-Lado containment field with Alejandra. I gave her everything. And, in return, she gave me preferred shares equal to about a tenth of her company. She'd just started bringing new tech to market when I made my jump, but my net worth was in excess of one hundred million dollars. Canadian."

"Holy... wow!"

"I gave the vast majority back to charity prior to my departure, but I did not arrive here penniless. In the backpack I carried, I've still got about a half million in U. S. currency (all meticulously checked to make sure the dates were safe). Plus about a million in gold and another twenty-five million in diamonds. I've also got the names of a few contacts in Canada which should allow us to convert those last two into something more liquid. Plus about a half-dozen identities for each of us. We just have to get there."

"We'll make it," he reassured her. "This forest road strategy is brilliant. It keeps us off the grid, and in a position to avoid people who might take note of a supernaturally gorgeous woman traveling in the company of a brown-skinned federal fugitive."

"Oh! I forgot about the fragging drones!"

"More future tech?"

"No," she replied excitedly as she brought the vehicle to a stop. "I got a couple of them when I was shopping for all that shaz. I meant to use them to scout ahead and make sure the roads were empty, but we could use them now to find a place to stop."

"You continue to amaze me, Petra."

"You shouldn't be that impressed. I'm supposed to be the one that can't forget stuff."

"I am nothing but impressed. Although..." he drawled as he beheld the vehicle's cargo area which was chock-full of gear, "I do hope you remember where they're stowed."

They were back underway moments later, this time with David behind the wheel and Petra focusing intently on the display for the drone which was slowly clawing its way higher in the cool, thin air of the high plains. Petra's route picked their way through the gap between Bighorn National Forest to the east and Yellowstone to the west, but the terrain was still quite mountainous.

"Fragging finally!" she gushed in triumph. "I found our campsite. It's just over the next ridge."

"Any sign of other people?"

"Not yet. I'll do a perimeter search while the drone is still at altitude, then I'm going to do a closer check of the site itself. Just stay on this track."

It was another hour before they finally arrived at the small wooded glade which was nestled along a small river. It took only an additional fifteen minutes for David's capacity to be amazed by his soulmate to burn out altogether. The assortment of gear she had crammed into the back of the S. U. V. was nothing short of inconceivable. He was quite certain there was nothing she had failed to provision for a thoroughly enjoyable, surprisingly comfortable, and completely off-grid overlanding journey across two states.

Their site setup began with assembling a small table, onto which went a campstove to heat an oversized stockpot filled to the brim with river water. Next came a collapsible shower-bag (which they suspended beneath an easy-to-assemble tripod) that came with an attached water pump to aid in filling.

While they waited for their shower to reach a state of readiness (which took five more journeys to the river to get sufficient water), they set up the rest of the camp. By the time they were done, they covered an area four times the size of the vehicle with a solar array, a cabin tent, and an awning (which protected their lounge chairs from the elements). What's more, the S. U. V. was far from empty. Between the fridge behind the driver's seat, a reservoir which held roughly 'one David' (from a volumetric standpoint) in potable water behind the passenger's seat, and a half-dozen storage bins filled with consumables; it seemed like they had hardly unpacked at all.

What was most impressive was that, from the outside, the S. U. V. would appear wholly unremarkable while they were underway. The only indication that it was an overlander (as opposed to just another ranch truck) was the pair of jerry cans on the back bumper. Furthering this incognito approach were the tent and awning, which both made use of the same camouflage color scheme as the S. U. V.'s exterior enjoyed. Before they recovered the drone, Petra had shown him the view from high above their campsite, and David had been unable to spot their location even when making use of landmarks.

The entire setup had taken place without either lover donning more than socks and boots. The mid-October air still held hints of the recent blizzard, but the cloudless sky meant that the sun provided more than enough warmth... especially when combined with their shared excitement for what was to come.

David was not shy about appreciating his soulmate's beauty as they circled each other prepping their temporary accommodations. It was true she had lost quite a bit of weight since his arrest, and the long years of solitude were evident in the worry lines on her face. But he could not imagine anyone being more beautiful. He had loved her as a voluptuous, if a bit eccentric, genius from the far future with a ready smile and endless locks of thick white-blonde hair; and he loved her even more as a mature, somber, slender woman from the near-future who still had more than enough curviness to stir his loins, along with shoulder-length hair (which showed hints of having been dyed pink at one point) and relentless conviction shining bright in her enrapturing sapphire eyes.

As they came together to pump the last pot of water into the shower-bag, he said, "This is incredible, Petra. I'm not even sure this qualifies as camping. You thought of everything."

"Let's not tempt the gods of chaos with almost certainly untrue declarative statements as to our level of preparedness," she replied with a wide smile. "Besides, I knew how hard it would be on you to leave behind the van. As you told me the day we met. Your whole life was in there."

"Perhaps it was... then," he whispered as he pulled her close. "But, I'll be honest, I hadn't given the van a second thought since you rescued me."

"Oh?" she murmured coquettishly, "and why is that?"

"Because you are my whole life now, honey. From the moment I met you, and you proved to me that happiness wasn't unattainable, until I take my last breath, you are all that matters."

A tear trickled down her cheek as she gushed, "Oh, David."

He smiled and swiped away her tears before assuring her, "I love you, Petra Jansen. I will always love you."

She responded by surging up to claim his lips, and all was once again right in their world.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Forty-Three

David and Petra had shared countless kisses since she had first given him the gift of her lips ten days prior. From passing busses as they squeezed past each other in the van to long, slow, deep, wet interludes which concluded with the sweaty exchange of bodily fluids. Each one was special to him, and quite a few were nestled permanently in his memories; the first caress of her lips on his cheek, the fated moment when they taught each other just how profound a kiss could be, their final parting just before his arrest.

The moment she claimed his lips beneath the suspended shower-bag, however, each of those previous instances was quickly relegated to also-ran status. They were both exhausted, and dirty, and hungry, and thirsty; they were on the run from multiple federal agencies while also camping illegally in the wilds of central Wyoming; they had no support, no friends, no one who would even notice if they were caught and executed next to a dusty forest service road. He was quite certain he had never been in a situation which was more dire in his thirty years of life.

He had zero doubt, however, that he had never known a more perfect moment.

"I love you too!" Petra gushed as she relinquished his lips. "I love you so fragging much!"

David smiled at her and reached up to grip the valve above the shower nozzle before asking, "Ready?"

"You bet your beautiful gorram ass, I'm ready," she replied gleefully.

When the water did not start flowing after he twisted the valve, he looked up to diagnose the problem. He was hit in the face by a steady stream of soothingly warm water after he yanked out the tab which had been (for reasons he could not decipher) installed by the manufacturer, but it took only a moment for his satisfied sigh to turn into a surprised gasp.

After taking a deep breath to center himself, he looked down and asked in a teasing voice, "What about our shower?"

"What do you think we're doing?" she asked distractedly as she soaped up his hardening cock.

"You're not making it easy for me to wash you, gorgeous."

Without taking her focused stare from his penis, she replied, "I have been dreaming about this for almost six years."

"Are you speaking about us finally showering together, or... holy shit!"

David was temporarily robbed of the power of movement when Petra abandoned the washcloth she had been using to wash him in favor of wrapping her lips around the head of his cock and taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. For several long moments, he stared transfixed at the sight of the most beautiful woman who would ever exist worshiping his manhood, almost as though even the apex-level pleasure she was conveying was a mere afterthought when compared to the appreciation, and affection, and adoration she felt for him.

"Holy shit, David," she sighed as she released his penis and dropped even lower. "Your cock is a fucking masterpiece!"

"Petra," he pleaded when she slurped one of his testicles into her mouth while feverishly stroking his manhood, "you've got to slow down. Please."

"Am I hurting you?" she asked worriedly after bringing her efforts to a halt.

"No... you're just... Jesus!"

The sight of her surging up to take his cock between her glorious breasts ripped the breath from his lungs, and the sensation of her wrapping her lips around the head of his penis before starting to bounce on her knees nearly caused him to lose consciousness. The results of her efforts felt spectacular, but it was the look in her eyes that sent him careening toward release.

"Petra... I'm going to..."

His frantic effort to warn his beloved fell silent as she catapulted him over the precipice by unexpectedly caressing his prostate. Her cheeks ballooned out as his release filled her mouth, but she began swallowing lustily. Throughout his extended release, the dazzling light in her eyes grew ever brighter until he lost the ability to keep his eyes open. His head lolled back as his orgasm began to subside, and he started to reach lazily for one of the tripod struts to steady himself. But this effort was abandoned when she attempted to deep-throat his over-sensitive member.

Jerking his hips back was an act of pure instinct, but he was already on the edge of the platform they had installed beneath the shower-bag and he shortly found himself falling helplessly onto his backside in the mud.

"David!" she yelped as she dropped to her knees by his side. "Are you ok?"

"That," he wheezed as he attempted to belatedly fill his lungs, "was amazing."

"You're not hurt?"

He smiled up at her and said, "Except for one very important exception, I have never been better."

"Just tell me what it is. I'll do anything."

"I will consider myself to be a failure as a man, and a lover, unless and until I give as good as you got."

She favored him with a crooked grin and challenged, "Well... what are you waiting for?"

He shrugged playfully and replied, "You... to get back in the fragging shower."

Her smile widened as she straightened and stepped under the stream of warm water. He followed so quickly that his lips reached the apex of her thighs before the water did. She squealed in delight as his tongue delved past the smooth skin of her vulva to find the heady nectar hidden within. He looked up to find her gazing down at him with a mixture of triumph and lust.

The moment his tongue grazed her clit, she hissed, "Yes! Please, David. It's been so long."

Even the water sheeting down her taut tummy, and occasionally up his nose, could not distract him from his singular focus on her tiny bundle of nerves. There was no technique, no strategy, only their shared need. Licking, slurping, flicking, sucking, and lapping were on offer, orchestrated by her crescendoing moans.

Her release was heralded by a deafening shriek of, "David!"

The tension which had been building in her body since he undertook his mission to pleasure her devolved into spasms which threatened to send her tumbling to the ground. He struggled to keep her upright without diminishing his efforts, but her slick skin nearly spelled ruin until he arrived at the strategy of supporting her lower back from between her legs. This approach had the added benefit of planting her gushing core even firmer against his hungry lips.

The moment she began regaining control of her balance, he slid his hand down over the curve of her exquisite ass to slide a finger into her clenching channel, quickly followed by another; all while continuing to do everything in his power to make good on his silent promise to make up for (in her words) more than two thousand days of longing.

Above him, her libidinous moans had devolved into wordless panting as her orgasms became indistinguishable, one from the next. He slid his free hand up her body to tease one of her nipples, prompting her to jolt in surprise. He felt her feet slipping on either side of his knee, and he knew she would crash to the ground without his intervention.

David rushed to reposition his hands to catch her, and managed to get her laid down on the platform beneath the warm spray of their shower. The moment she was stable, however, he shifted his focus back to her pleasure. He was forced to shift back and kneel in the thickening mud surrounding the platform, but he hardly noticed his predicament thanks to her keening wail of ecstasy as his thrusting fingers once again found her G-spot.

Her body bucked beneath his relentless ministrations until moments later when her thighs snapped closed around his head. He rode out the waves of her pleasure as best he could, but it was not long until she started frantically pawing at his forehead.

When her thighs relaxed by the smallest of measures, he heard a hoarse whisper plead, "It's too much. Please. You're going to kill me."

He stilled his efforts at once and turned his gaze upwards. A sigh of relief left his lungs when he found her looking back at him with boundless love (and no small amount of wonder). A small spasm traveled up her body in response to the puff of air on her engorged clit, ending in an impossibly cute squeak escaping her lips.

David pulled back enough to grin in her direction, prompting her to sigh, "I'd accuse you of practicing while I was away, but you didn't have any opportunity. Unless, you also discovered a form of time travel."

He crawled around the perimeter of the platform (rather than risk her also getting covered in mud). When he was close enough, he whispered, "There's only ever been you Petra. There will only ever be you. I just... you've been through so much. I figure doing that a few thousand more times is the least I could do."

"I think we should wait until there's a hospital within shouting distance before you do that again, handsome. Do you have any idea how many times I cay... had the fruitful frenzies?"

"Not enough," he rumbled.

"Now I'm sure of it... you're definitely trying to kill me."

"What about the teat-fragging business with your mouth? You're lucky I didn't have a heart attack, and then hit my head as I fell to the ground!"

She pulled him in for a kiss before whispering, "I have missed this, my love. Not just doing sex, but just... us... together."

"I swear to you, Petra... I'll never leave you again."

"I plan on holding you to that."

"Good," he replied as he got to his feet.

He offered her his hand to help her to her feet, taking care to not get any of the mud which coated a not-insignificant percentage of his body onto her unmarred, glistening skin. After snatching a towel off one of the crossbars of the tripod (from which a privacy curtain could be hung in instances where there were other humans in the vicinity), he dried her in a fashion which resulted in more than one breathy sigh escaping her lips.

Once she was dry, it was impossible to miss her heavy eyelids, or her unsteady stance. David flipped the towel over the crossbar and took her hand to lead her toward the tent.

"Where are we going?" she asked sleepily.

"You are going to bed."

"Oh, no," she retorted after trying (and failing) to swallow a yawn. "We're doing sex first."

"You're asleep on your feet, Petra. You need rest. And I'm filthy."

"No," she murmured as he led her toward the tent. "You need to stuff your prick in me first."

"How about this," he offered as they paused at the door to the tent, "you climb into this incredible bed that you bought for us, and I swear I'll join you as soon as I'm cleaned up. Sound good?"

"No," she barked as she came to a halt.

"I'm just going to shower off real quick."

She cupped his cheek and whimpered, "The last time I kissed you goodbye, I didn't see you again for over five years. I can't do that again, David. I can't lose you."

"Tell you what," he offered gently, "we'll leave the entrance to the tent open, and I'll clean up in the river. You'll be able to see me from the bed. I'll never leave your sight. Does that sound ok?"

"You promise you'll stay where I can see you?"

"Every second."

"Ok," she sighed in resignation, "just... please hurry."

He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her lips before whispering, "I am going to do my absolute damnedest to make certain that today is the last day that you doubt that there's anywhere in the universe that I'd rather be than in your bed, honey."

"David," she whined morosely, "please stop fragging with me. I've been awake for almost five days. I know you love me, almost as much as I love you. Just clean up that beautiful body of yours, and then come sex the shaz out of me. Ok?"

He smirked at her and said, "I swear, it will be done."

After waiting for her to stumble over to the bed and crawl beneath the covers, he hurried toward the nearby river. His efforts to slosh into the water were temporarily interrupted by the agonizing reminder that the water was only a few degrees above freezing. He looked with longing at the sauna-temperature water in the shower-bag, but it took only a brief thought of Petra's crestfallen face to reject that idea.

David needed little in the way of motivation to rush through his clean-up. His biggest hindrance was the refusal of the icy river to wash away the thicker clumps of mud, so he had to remain in the water for far longer than he would have preferred to scrub his skin clean. Once he was satisfied he was clean (or clean enough), he scampered up the bank.

It was at this point that he realized he did not have a towel.

It was easy to spot said linen hanging from the tripod, well out of his beloved's line of sight. He took a moment to frantically swipe away as much water as he could, but that did little to either warm or dry his body. From his vantage point, he could see that Petra was (at the very least) nestled beneath the covers. He suspected that she had passed out the moment her head hit the pillow, but he had zero intention of stepping out of her eyeline.

Since he was loath to give Petra an unwelcome shock by subjecting her to his frigid skin, he settled for standing in a beam of sunlight. It was several long moments before he transitioned from shivering violently to merely cold, but the added detail of his skin being (mostly) dry convinced him to risk climbing into what he had little doubt was a very warm bed.

David was most careful joining his soulmate beneath the covers to not subject her to his icy skin, but that did not stop her from snuggling up against him in her sleep. She made no sound of complaint about his condition, instead releasing a sigh that held more than two thousand days of longing and loneliness as she rested her head on his chest.

"... love you..." she mumbled in her sleep as her warmth enveloped him, and her love infused his soul.

"I love you too, angel," he whispered as sleep claimed him. "Always."

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Forty-Four

David awoke to a perplexing mosaic of conflicting sensations. His body was cocooned in warmth that extended beyond any mundane concepts of temperature, but his throat was dry and his nose was so numb that he felt as though turning over wrong could snap it clean off. He took a minute to assess his situation, including tentatively sliding a foot out from beneath the blanket.

'It's fragging freezing in here!' he thought frantically.

Considering their situation dispassionately, he had no right to be surprised. The region had endured a devastating blizzard less than a week before. Even though the bulk of the snowfall had occurred south of the campsite, the area had not been spared from the brutal cold (as his brief bath in the river the previous day had established). They were initially staying off grid (even to the extent of keeping their phones on airplane mode), but he suspected the overnight temperatures were well below freezing.

He felt confident that Petra was not in danger, considering that he could feel her soft snores resonating in his chest. The inside of the tent was shrouded in complete darkness, and he had no way of knowing even what side of midnight they were on. He was confident, however, that it was inadvisable to continue their evening with the blankets as their only defense against freezing to death.

Recognizing that action was required, David started his preparations. Job one was figuring out a way to leave the very warm bed without allowing any of the warmth that was keeping his beloved comfortable to escape. Job two was figuring out a way to do something about the frigid temperatures in the tent, all while naked as the day he was born, and without so much as a flashlight to guide his efforts.

He worked to catalog his action items with the goal of ensuring that his time spent away from Petra's warm embrace was as brief as possible. It was challenging, however, to avoid obsessing over how profoundly uncomfortable it would be to brave the freezing temperatures. No matter how much he tried to settle on the perfect sequence of events in his head, all he could think about was how much he was not looking forward to initiating his labors.

Then he felt the tiniest suggestion of a shiver run along Petra's perfect body, and all doubt was set aside. He moved to the edge of the bed, doing his best to not disturb her in the process, before rolling clear of the covers and learning firsthand just how much the temperature had plummeted since he had crawled into bed.

David stumbled in the direction of the entrance to the tent, something he found himself intensely regretting having left open. Once he stepped outside, he found that there was no moon, but the cloudless night allowed the stars to provide enough illumination for him to find the S. U. V. in the darkness. He hurried in that direction, only to find that it was also still open to the elements.

After giving brief thanks to Petra's foresight in turning off any interior lights which would have been triggered by a door opening, he felt his way around to the driver's-side door and yanked it open. He was relieved to discover that his phone was where he remembered leaving it (namely, in the console between the front seats), and that it retained enough charge to be used (at least temporarily) as a flashlight.

Pulling on a set of long-johns, and especially stepping into his boots, gave him some insight into just how low the temperature must have fallen. He snatched a small duffel from the cargo area and filled it with clothing for his beloved. Before he turned back for the tent, he also remembered to grab a flashlight (although he could hardly take credit for that insight, since it was spurred by his phone battery dying just as he finished assembling Petra's effects).

Upon returning to the tent, he immediately thought of several more items he should have fetched, but he managed to set those thoughts aside in favor of the far more urgent matter of heat. He had considered Petra's inclusion of a wood-burning stove, complete with chimney, to (perhaps) be overkill when he had lugged it from the S. U. V. and installed it in the tent, but he silently pleaded for her forgiveness as he loaded it up with wood. It took him quite some time to get a fire going inside (due in large part to his shaking fingers and complete lack of outdoor acumen), but he could feel the tent start to warm immediately once the fire was finally going.

"What are you doing?" Petra murmured from beneath the covers.

"I woke up and it was freezing in here. Mostly due to my failure to close us in when I came to bed. So, I'm getting the heat going. Just... go back to sleep. I'll have things squared away in a little while."

"What time is it?"

"Before my phone died, it said it was just after four."

After a brief pause, she sighed, "I can think of other things I'd rather do besides sleep."

"That sounds like a lovely idea. Just give me a few more minutes to finish up."

"Why don't you just come back to bed?" she complained. "I'm sure the stove will warm things up plenty."

"Because it was unforgivable for me to lay down without seeing to your comfort, Petra."

"You could make the argument that you did far more work while we set up camp than I did. And I was the one who was so impatient to do sex."

"And I am madly in love with you for that enthusiasm. That does not, however, absolve me of my sacred responsibility to properly take care of my whoa..."

"Your... what?" she prompted without judgment.

"Nothing."

"David," she wheedled, "tell me."

"I was about to speak inappropriately, and irresponsibly."

"Just tell me what you were going to say."

"I assure you; I am very much aware that you are your own person. You are brilliant, and kind, and loving, and beautiful; but most of all, you're no man's property."

"You were going to call me your woman?" she teased.

"As I said, it was impertinent. Please accept my apologies."

"David Shyam, I would certainly hope you think of me as your woman. You can bet your handsome ass that I consider you to be my man."

"I see."

"So, what was it that you were saying about your responsibility to your woman?"

He paused to light a lantern, allowing its soft glow to add to the dim flickering filtering through the tiny window of the stove, before replying, "You should never know a moment of discomfort, or strife, or unhappiness; at least not if it's in my power to prevent it. My... you... should be pampered, treated like a queen even. Not because you demand it, but because you deserve it."

"I suspect you'll have no small amount of difficulty living up to that, since I consider it to be my mission to do the exact same thing for you. But... why the hesitation?"

David placed a kettle on the stove to boil before straightening up to gaze down at her intently. "I love you, Petra."

"I love you, too," she replied with a hint of confusion in her voice.

He continued resolutely, "And girlfriend just feels too ordinary a label for the person who owns my heart. I just don't know what word I should use instead."

"I can think of a few," she sighed breathily.

"Like what?"

"First, why don't you tell me why you're still scrambling around the tent instead of in bed, with me. I'm warning you, if I have to come out there after you..."

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I was going to fib and threaten to withhold sex. But, one, I'd never say something like that to you. Even in jest. Making love is too sacred to be commoditized like that. And, two, we both know that I'm absolutely going to ravish you the moment you come close enough for me to get a hold of you."

"You haven't eaten anything that wasn't an energy bar or dried fruit in at least four days. Likely twice that long, if I know you. It's not a huge improvement, but I'm making you hot chocolate. And oatmeal."

"Make some for yourself, and I'll suspend sentence on the not doing sex."

"I thought you said you'd never threaten to withhold that," he retorted teasingly.

"I didn't threaten anything. I just informed my man that, once he's done seeing to our collective nourishment, he's definitely going to get his prick slurped. And I mean the very next second after we're done eating. I might not even wipe my mouth first. I wonder how hot cocoa tastes with semen in it."

He stopped mid-pour and prompted, "I thought we were aligned on not allowing porn to influence our sex life."

"You're right," she muttered sullenly.

"What's wrong?"

"I will try. It's just... I have been alone for a long time, David. And I know you had been as well, but I knew what I was missing. I did not take comfort in the arms of another, but I missed you so much. I tried to stay true to you, but I did have moments of weakness where I might have indulged in a bit of... porn?"

"And you thought I'd be upset?" he asked in amazement.

"I would not have thought less of you if you were disappointed in me."

"Not remotely. I'm devastated by the loneliness you endured, Petra. And I'm so glad we found each other again. But I was being sincere when I said that I wouldn't have even been upset if you had taken another lover."

"You're just thinking about Alejandra and I lapping each other's quims."

"In truth, I have no idea what she looks like, and the only part of that scenario that I would have cared about was you not being so alone. Regardless of what you had to do to stay sane for all that time, all that matters is that we're together again." He paused for a moment before shrugging and adding, "And, if you really want to use semen as a nutritional supplement, I won't stand in your way. Just please don't think that I expect it. Or even that I'm secretly fantasizing about it. All I need is your love, Petra."

Her laugh came out as a snort, and she playfully challenged, "But you won't say no to the occasional teat fragging with your daily ration of doing sex?"

"As long as you don't think less of me when I ask you to sit on my face afterward. Do you want marshmallows?"

"In my quim?" she chortled.

He took a seat beside her on the bed before answering, "If you'd like, but I was actually talking about the cocoa."

"Jerk," she enthused playfully. "Just for that, I should shove one up there and challenge you to remove it using nothing but your tongue."

"And I would happily devote myself to said challenge. Here... I brought you a blanket so you can sit up without getting too cold."

"You do a heavenly job taking care of me, David. But you must promise that, when we get up in the morning, you'll give me the chance to pamper you."

"It runs contrary to my nature, but I will do my best."

She took a sip of her cocoa, sighing in contentment in response to the warm, rich liquid. "Your best will always be enough."

Despite the profound love he felt for her, he still felt a bit of blush heat his cheeks in response to her sincere praise. That hint of awkwardness lasted only a moment before she once again demonstrated that she was truly his soulmate by pulling him down to deliver a soul-soothing kiss. Rather than relinquish his lips, she sought to ratchet up their passion by hungrily tilting her head and pulling him closer. When he sensed she was on the verge of abandoning her cocoa altogether, consequences be damned, he pulled back and relieved her of the mug.

After taking a calming breath, he whispered, "Just give me a minute to get you some oatmeal."

"Please, David. The food can wait."

"But you haven't eaten in..."

"Beloved," she murmured with devastating vulnerability, "I'm begging you... please don't make me wait any longer to make love to you."

David would later give thanks that his frantic efforts to shed his clothing did not result in anything shattering the lantern or landing on the stove. In the moment, all that mattered to him was returning to Petra's inviting embrace. She welcomed him with open arms and widespread legs, guiding his manhood to her entrance without hesitation.

Tears wet her cheeks as he entered her, causing him to stop out of fear that he had hurt her. "Oh, shit, Petra. I'm sorry. I can go slower."

"I'm not in pain," she whimpered as she cradled his face in her hands and pulled him close. "I'm just so happy I finally found you. Again."

Any response on his part was interrupted as she claimed his lips and completed the reforging of their bond. Her velvety core welcomed his full length, thanks in part to her limber legs encircling his waist to pull him closer with fervent need. Her hands never left his face as he slowly built up to a deliberate pace, nor did she allow anything to interrupt their kiss. His hands were focused on holding himself above her, yet he was not poorer for his inability to caress the perfect skin of his lover as her embrace gifted the majority of his body with the treasure of her touch.

When at last their lips parted for want of oxygen, she panted, "How is this possible?"

"What?"

"All these years, I was convinced that I must have been inflating the memory of you in my mind, because it didn't seem possible that anyone could ever be that good of a lover. But this is so much better than I remembered. You are so much better, David."

"You're perfect, Petra," he sighed breathlessly. "And I will love you forever."

"Oh, David!" she mewled. "I love you so much."

Her legs guided him to increase the tempo of their lovemaking until he could feel the blanket sliding down his back. Yet he gave no regard to the still-quite-cold air in the tent. His entire world was the two brilliant sapphire orbs staring up at him with more love and affection than he had thought existed in all the world prior to meeting his soulmate.

"So close," she sighed as she pulled him closer. "So fragging close."

"Me too."

"With me," she panted. "Please... with me."

"I'll always be with you," he breathlessly gritted out.

"David! I need you to... oh fuck... oh fuck! Oh FUCK!"

He managed to cry out, "Petra!" before thrusting his hips home a final time and erupting into her clenching core.

Her body spasmed in ecstasy with each spurt of his molten seed, but she never relinquished her grip on him. Each jolt of her hips, or surges of her just-right breasts against his chest, or squeeze of her exquisitely tight channel, or scrape of her nails, only strengthened his seemingly endless release. He had no sense of how long they stayed locked in each other's embrace, extending their shared bliss, as even the inevitable diminution of their mutual release faded unnoticed by two lovers who cared only for their soulmate's happiness.

When at last their lips parted, she sighed, "Marriage."

"Pardon?" he asked against her achingly kissable lips.

She kissed him again before murmuring, "That's the word you were looking for earlier, to describe a relationship as close as ours."

"You'd marry me?" he asked in amazement.

"Of course. Although, to be perfectly honest with you, I'm kind of fumbling what was a carefully thought out proposal. I had everything planned out. The moment we crossed into Canada, I'd get down on one knee and ask for your hand. I even have a ring... somewhere."

"You're planning on proposing to me? I thought that was meant to be my job."

A wide grin split Petra's features, and she challenged, "Well?"

Unbidden by conscious thought, David had a sudden vision of the man who had battened down the hatches prior to a coming storm just two weeks before: competent, reliable, principled, taciturn, standoffish, and completely at peace with the life he had forged. He had known that he was utterly alone in a way few humans could endure, and almost none would seek out. But, in his mind, it had simply been necessary. Whether that was driven by his own deep-seated sense to preserve what was left of his sanity, or as penance for sins he had never fully understood; what mattered was that he had at last found a way to live his life so that no one could hurt him.

Then she entered his world, lifting the veil from his eyes and showing him kindness, and friendship, and affection, and desire, and love. He knew without the possibility of doubt that the man she had met would have fled in a panic at the suggestion that he propose marriage to the world's most beautiful woman. Thanks to her love, however, the man she had met no longer existed.

David Shyam, the man who once claimed to have nothing beyond what was stored in his van, gazed down at the woman who had traveled through time to lay claim to his heart and whispered, "Petra? Would you marry me?"

Her smile lit up their darkened, frigid tent as she enthused, "Yes!" before pulling him down to claim her first official kiss as his forever.

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Epilogue

Five-and-a-half years later

"¡Buenas tardes, Señor Silvio!" a friendly voice called out from the depths of the small, neighborhood grocery store.

David replied by waving in the direction of the ceiling-mounted camera, shaking his head at the preposterous pseudonym with which his neighbors had saddled him.

He grabbed a shopping basket and collected the items on his list with little wasted effort. He nodded and smiled at the familiar faces he saw, and took comfort in the fact that they took no offense at his taciturn nature. Upon spotting one of the aforementioned neighbors (an elderly woman who barely came up to his shoulder, but who sported a fiery disposition in the face of injustice) struggling to reach an item on a higher shelf, he set down his basket and wordlessly reached over her to fetch the can of tomatoes she sought and hand it to her.

"¡Gracias, Señor Silvio!" she offered gratefully.

He shrugged self-consciously and murmured, "De nada," before returning his attention to the shopping.

When he reached the check-out, the friendly proprietress took his basket and began manually keying in the various items. Her task was not so arduous, however, that she was forced to remain quiet.

"Why are you always so quiet, Señor Silvio?" she demanded, emphasizing the name which he had been told meant 'the quiet one' (despite his English-to-Spanish dictionary arguing to the contrary).

"I talk," he answered softly, "when I have something to say."

"You've been here for almost five years now. You are one of us. Surely you know that the people of our town would never talk to the policía about you or your family."

"I would like to think that, but some habits die hard."

"You should get out more," she persisted. She then lowered her voice to add, "Señor David."

"Careful with that name, Señora Gabriela."

"Fine, Mr. Silvio. Have it your way. But I expect to see you all at the festival next week."

He smiled and assured her, "You know we'd never miss it."

He collected his purchases and headed outside into the refreshingly pleasant early April afternoon. It had been a brutal summer, with both temperature and humidity consistently hitting record highs starting the prior October and only beginning to ease up in the past week.

The walk from the grocery to their modest home on the outskirts of their adopted hometown in the southern part of Uruguay was a brief one thanks to quickened steps driven by an existentially important deadline. Yet, even in the span of twenty minutes which took place in mid-afternoon on a weekday, he still (wordlessly) greeted more than a dozen friendly faces before reaching his destination. David claimed no credit for their quick acceptance by their new neighbors. He knew that very few people to ever live could have so easily managed the task of integrating a pair of obvious foreigners, who did not speak the language, into a tight-knit community of families who went back generations.

But his wife of nearly five years had something of a knack for accomplishing the incredible.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called out with a chuckle after entering their three-bedroom, one bath house.

His exuberant greeting turned into a panicked grunt when their two-year-old Cimarrón Uruguayo burst from the rear of the house and charged him as though he were a doomed matador. He managed to turn his hips in time to prevent permanent damage, but it was a very close call.

"Maryam!" Petra called out warningly. "You have to calm down, honey. You're going to hurt Daddy."

David managed to get the excitable canine (who Petra had named after Maryam Mirzakhani, the renowned mathematician) back on all fours without injury, and gave her the headpats she sought before turning his attention to his wife.

"Well, hello!" he enthused in response to her welcome nudity. "I thought you had a class."

"It was just virtual office hours. I had a few students drop in, but only one of them needed help with Laplace transforms. I think the rest were just trying, and failing, to flirt with me."

"Hardly surprising when you look like that."

"You know very well that I waited until I shut down my laptop before getting naked for you," she teased as she flowed into his arms. "I made a solemn vow, husband. That's not something I take lightly."

"What about..." he began.

"We have time," she interrupted coquettishly, "or we would have if you hadn't stopped to talk to every single one of our neighbors on the way home from the market."

He merely smiled in response to her teasing, and followed her into the kitchen to put away the groceries while still dedicating the vast majority of his attention to his incomparably beautiful, and delightfully nude, wife. Thanks to lengthy twice-daily walks in his company, in addition to joining him in following a diet which would have made a dietician green with envy, she had retained the trim tummy and toned limbs which had been the result of long years of near-fasting while she planned his rescue, but a more consistent caloric intake had returned shape to her alluring hips, and delectable fullness to her enticing breasts.

She came up behind him as he was putting the finishing touches on a marinade for the seabass he had just purchased, and wrapped her arms around him before whispering in his ear, "How 'bout it, handsome... think you have time in your busy schedule for your bawdy wife to slurp on your powerfully potent prick until you spurt your cream all over the teats you've been leering at?"

"Only after she agrees to let me lap her quickened, quivering quim until she sprays her cream all over my face."

"It's a deal!" she enthused. "But we've got to..."

Petra was interrupted by the sound of their doorbell.

She looked skyward in frustration before muttering angrily, "I said sixteen-thirty, Isabella. Not sixteen-ten!"

"Can I get a rain-check?" David asked with a smile.

"You bet your handsome ass," she announced as she strutted toward the bedroom.

"Why don't I get the door?" he offered her exquisite retreating form.

"Tell Isabella that she robbed you of a glorious prick slurping!"

"I thought you said I'd get a raincheck!" he chortled confidently before reaching for the door.

Unlike when Maryam had 'attacked' him, David did nothing to guard himself against the assault he knew was coming beyond dropping to a knee and opening his arms.

"Hey baby girl!" he gushed to their three-year-old daughter as she nestled into his embrace. "Did you have fun with Señorita Isabella?"

His daughter nodded emphatically and turned to give her niñera a warm embrace before scampering into the house.

"How was she?"

"She is still not talking, señor. But she ate two empandas at Señora Acuña's cantina, and she did not gesture for me to carry her once when we walked around the pond."

"That's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "And don't worry about whether she's talking yet or not. Her doctors assure us that we're doing what's best for her. That includes you, Isabella. We see how amazing you are with her, and we really appreciate all you do."

She glanced over his shoulder before whispering, "I heard what Señora Petra said. I am so sorry we were early. I knew how important it was that we were not late, and I erred on the side of caution."

"It is fine," David assured her. "And, you're right, today is a very big day."

"I still feel bad. After... you know... if you would like me to take her tonight, please do not hesitate to call. I will just be home studying for Señora Petra's test on Monday."

David bid their trusty babysitter goodbye before wandering into the living room to find Petra happily chatting with their daughter about the latter's day. They had adopted Susana Angelina when she was just three weeks old, and they had done it knowing that the tiny infant's chances of survival were less than fifty-fifty. Born twelve-and-a-half-weeks premature to a mother who was barely more than a child herself, the region's best doctors had not been shy about their assessment of Susana's prognosis.

When she had beaten the odds and finally came home two months later, her pediatrician had warned them that her extreme prematurity was as likely as not to lead to complications later in life. This forecast had been given form when she had reached her first birthday without speaking her first words. Her physical development had been typical (outside of the fact that she was significantly smaller than other children her age). But, even two months after her third birthday, she had yet to utter a word.

The specialists they had seen were reluctant to offer an opinion on whether her silence was the result of her premature birth. It took several visits to uncover that autism had an even greater stigma in South America than it did in the United States of David's birth. After they assured her caregivers that they were not interested in internet conspiracies, only science, and that they would literally spare no expense where their daughter was concerned, they decided on a course of treatment that would likely continue into early adulthood.

Susana's quiet nature did nothing to dim the happiness which infused every stud and joist of their home. David and Petra's love had grown daily since she had first appeared outside his van nearly six years earlier. They had challenging days, and even argued infrequently, but they never allowed the sun to set without declaring their sincere, and boundless, love for one another.

Their odyssey from central Wyoming to Canada had taken them nearly a month. Their subsequent trip to South America had then been accomplished in less than a day, aided by the ironclad false identities Petra had brought with her from the future. They had been meticulous in identifying their forever home, ultimately taking several months to settle on the small town far from the industrial and tourist centers of their adopted country.

"It's four-forty-two," David observed softly enough that he did not interrupt his wife's reading of Susana's favorite story (about a monster at the end of the book).

Petra closed the book and said, "It's almost time sweetheart. Are you ready?"

Their daughter nodded emphatically before hopping up and leading the charge into their shared home office. Her parents followed behind with smiles on their faces. But the brave face Petra was putting on did not fool her husband. He saw the deepening worry lines in her angelic face, and felt the tension in her body when he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"You know I'm here for you," he whispered in her ear. He gestured toward where Susana was bouncing in Petra's desk chair and added, "We both are."

"I know. And I love you both so, so much. It's completely illogical for me to be nervous. It's just..."

"I understand completely, honey."

"Ok! Let's do this!" she enthused with what he suspected was slightly more enthusiasm than she genuinely felt.

Petra picked up her daughter and took her place before allowing Susana to settle on her lap. David pulled up a chair next to them and took a seat. He reached out to take her hand and smiled to himself when he felt a small measure of tension leave her body via their shared touch. They both watched the clock anxiously until it finally clicked over to seven minutes until five.

With visibly shaking hands, Petra reached out and typed in a lengthy U. R. L. from memory. When she was finished, her finger hovered above the ENTER key for a long moment.

David gave her shoulder a reassuring caress and whispered, "It's time, my love. You've waited long enough."

After a brief pause, her finger dropped to strike the key. The browser thought for an insultingly long time before ultimately loading a video conferencing page. They heard a beep, indicating someone was joining the call, followed by the face of an attractive woman a few years older than Petra appearing on the screen.

The air was charged with tension as the two women stared at each other in amazement. Ultimately, the woman on the other end of the call broke the silence.

"Petra?" the woman sobbed. "Is that really you? You really made it?"

Petra wiped away happy tears before nodding emphatically. Her voice cracked as she replied, "Yes!" She took a breath before adding, "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, and my soulmate, David. And this is my daughter, and my sunshine, Susana. Sweetheart, I'd like to introduce you to Mommy's very good friend, Aunt Alejandra."

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The End

Thanks so much for taking the time to read David and Petra's tale. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review.

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Ghost Rider

Jake Lazarus

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Copyright © 2026 Jake Lazarus

All rights reserved.

This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a review).

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, business, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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