Yet another installment of this story. Gah, won't it ever end? Yes, it will. And soon. If I can get it out. Seems the words just aren't flowing lately. We'll see...

Sanderson closes his mouth quickly, nodding sharply before turning to the shorter man. "Come with us, Mr. Branson. We'll be demonstrating your pet project." Without another word, the General turns, moving briskly through the narrow hallway. As if it were an afterthought, Sanderson calls over his shoulder, "Dismissed Colonel."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thrill of fear courses along Kyra's spine as she realizes how close she came to opening the door for a stranger. She blinks rappidly, a few times, reminding herself to breathe deeply. Wolf looks up to his mistress with a soft whimper, then returns his sharp eyes to the window. Again there's a thought flitting across the screen of Kyra's mind, nothing more than a hazy shadow.

Wolf pads to the door, whining softly. This time, as Kyra watches the large animal, she notices that he is no longer angry, as if he knew the threat was gone. Before Kyra can actually process the thought and it's portents, she jerks her eyes to the door, shaking her head at the knock. She watches Wolf for a moment, guaging his response to this new guest.

Wolf releases a soft whimper of eagerness as if telling Kyra to open the door quickly. He then barks softly in greeting, moving toward Kyra. The husky looks up to her, his eyes questioning. With her brief nod, Wolf moves back to the door, wagging his tail. Soft laughter slips from her lips as Kyra, reassured, moves quickly to the door, peeking through the security lens.

Seeing Michael, Kyra quickly opens the door, granting him access. As soon as he steps inside, she closes the door again, locking it immediatly. Breathlessly she quickly explains her actions. "There was someone else out there just before you drove up. In fact, I think it was your headlights that scared him off. Maybe it was Wolf, I don't know. But he was out there and he was pretending he was you and....."

Michael cuts her off with a raised hand, speaking softly. "First, slow down. Second, tell me the story in the car. Third, lets go now." For just a moment he watches Kyra to make sure she understands his meaning then nods, unlocking the door to open it. As he exits, standing on the porch, Michael speaks to the husky. "Check it out, Wolf. Make sure it's safe."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George jerks awake from a sound sleep, hearing a scrape from somewhere in his apartment. With a frown, the mountain of a man slips soundlessly from his bed. He pauses behind the partially open bedroom door, listening for another telltale hint of the intruder's whereabouts. A muffled curse greets his ears and George lowers his eyes a bit, avoiding the chance that a stray moonbeam might reflect in their glossy surfaces.

With a stealth foreign to most men his size, George slips from the bedroom into the crowded livingroom, crouching down behind a large, wing-back chair. He listens to his uninvited guest stumble once more. The adrenaline pumping through George's veins heightens his senses just a little and he forces himself to regulate his breathing. Thoughts flutter through his mind; rappid fire ricochets; each taking on a more aggressive stance until he silences them once again.

What happens to Kyra if I die tonight? What happens with the company? What the hell has Dempsey been workin on and why can't anyone find him? What am I worried about? If I die, I die. I've lived a full life. Kyra's taken care of, Ken'll see to that.... was that a sound?....... shit.

Seconds seem to drag on to minutes, then hours, then an entire lifetime without another foreign sound. For half a moment, George wonders if there had been any intrusion at all, or if he had merely been reacting to some forgotten dream. He frowns slightly, withholding a bitter sigh more on reflex than out of any concious desire to remain quiet.

A faint scrape of rubber against wood sounds from a few feet away. George freezes in place, remembering to breathe, tho moving nothing else. He waits until the creeping perp pauses abreast the chair. The hair prickles on the back of his neck as George springs from his hiding place.

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Michael closes the passenger door, looking almost furtively toward the dense trees behind Kyra's house. He turns back to smile at her through the passenger window, then steps around the Expedition, opening his own door. Michael pauses for a moment, swinging open the rear door and whistling once for Wolf. The dog trots up to him immediately, then looks up into the Expedition as if to question the seating arrangements.

With soft laughter, Michael shakes his head and Wolf leaps up into the rear seat. Raising a brow slightly, MIchael notes the accusation in the husky's eyes. He shuts the door, slips into the Ford and shuts his own door before looking to Kyra.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that dog was accusing me of stealing his seat." Soft laughter flows from the passenger side of the well-equipped SUV, Kyra's response coming slowly and with deliberate cheer. "Well, he does get to sit up front with me." She falls slient again as Michael, the engine still running, pulls away from Kyra's driveway.

Long moments of silence fill the drive to the freeway. Kyra remains silent, watching the trees blow past as if she were watching some one else's nightmare. Suddenly she is reminded of a book she read, long ago. Softly she begins speaking, her voice sounding rather haunted.

"Michael? Have you ever read anything from Koontz?" She continues to watch the trees as they breeze past in a blur. Michael turns to look at his companion, having thought her to be asleep, then clears his throat, turning his eyes back to the interstate. "I don't remember... what genre?"

Kyra smiles softly, turning to look at Michael, a tenderness in her eyes as she speaks again. "Horror." She chuckles quietly, reaching her hand behind her to ruffle Wolf's fur, continuing softly, as if thinking aloud. "The past few months seem to be parts cut out of some of his books." She watches the few headlights as they travel further North on the interstate. The lack of other vehicles makes it seem as if Michael and Kyra were the last two people in the world.

"I don't remember the titles of all his books. But I think I've read them all. A few people compared Koontz to King... But that's an unfair comparison..." She pauses, again watching the trees as they move past. Kyra smiles faintly, having always been amazed with the lush, green-ness of her home-state. "I'm not a mousey woman, so I don't fit into the book about the scientifically altered animals. The golden retriever and the.... thing. I think it was originally a chimp, but I don't remember." She trails off into silence after muttering quietly... "I've got to reread the books...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The element of surprise seems to give George the upper hand as he slams his clenched fist into the intruder's jaw. A loud crack, followed immediately by a muffled yelp, resounds through the room. The stranger staggers backward, unable to keep his balance as he falls atop a coffee table. George immediately looms over his fallen prey, reaching a huge hand toward the stranger's throat. Blood makes his grip slippery and George pulls his hand back, moving to grab the stranger's lapels instead.

George hauls his captive backward to the couch, propping the moaning figure in the corner. He takes a step back, watching for just a moment. Moving quickly, tho always keeping an eye on his groggy prey, George grabs a towel from one of the chairs, then returns to the couch, sitting upon the coffee table just a foot from the stranger. His voice flows smoothly from between his lips but there is a slight note of malice laced through the words.

"Who are you, Why are you here, and who hired you?" George leans forward just a little, as if to emphasize his words. The stranger slowly raises his head, blood running freely from his mouth, over his chin and down his shirt. A look of abject hatred fills the stranger's eyes for just a moment before going completely blank.

George arches a brow at the silence, then nods to himself. "Very well. We can do this the hard way. You tell me what I want to know, or I'll pulverize every bone in your body. We clear?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael listens to the highway whine as the miles pass in their journey. As they come up on the connecting interstate, he looks briefly to Kyra, wondering if maybe she'd fallen asleep. His thoughts carry him along a now-familiar path. So precious and tender. This must be terrifying the hell out of her. Again Michael looks toward her, a desire to hold her so strong, he gasps softly at the pressure in his chest. Hell... I can't afford this... Joanna started out nice too.... With a soft gasp, Michael jerks his thoughts away, focusing entirely on the road.

As if she had never stopped talking, Kyra begins again, still very softly, still sounding rather far away. "So many people think that King is the best horror writer... but I disagree." She pauses a moment, formulating her words. "King writes better for the visual. He uses too many words to describe simple things. Too verbose." She frowns slightly, sitting up a little in her seat.

Kyra looks to Michael, studying his face for a moment, then continues on. "King writes good movies... screen plays, if you will. Koontz writes better books........ I loved Hideaway but there were differences in the movie. Jeff Goldblum played the part well........." With a soft sigh, Kyra's voice trails off once again.

She tries again, feeling as if there were some external force trying to keep her from saying what she meant to. "That's all beside the point. What I really want to say is this... There's something nagging at my mind. Something that I should know... that should click, but it just doesn't. Some.... thing." She frowns again, looking to Michael. Kyra's eyes are filled with a maelstrom of confusion and caution. "The project Dempsey was working on is like one of the Koontz plotlines. There's an animal connection, Michael. Some kind of heightened senses thing."

Michael turns his eyes from the road to his companion, a real and true shock showing in his eyes. He didn't think she was actually trying to make a point. Yet again Michael feels the impact of another point for Kyra, and how intensely he wants to "be there" for her. He nods slowly, speaking more slowly as he turns his eyes back to the road.

"I don't think you're crazy. I don't think you're reacting to stress. Tell me everything you're "getting" right now."

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