About Us – Live Better With Cancer - m.latestsportsnewstoday.site

I have taken out all names and edited out locations for privacy of all parties involved.
Okay, so rewind to August 2020. I am on Tinder after breaking up with a not-so-serious relationship of a few months. I have matched with several guys, but one guy stood out to me.
He was nice, he didn’t come on too strong, he made sweet jokes. We started chatting more and he tells me he takes care of his father who has dementia, which honestly tugs at my heart strings, as my grandfather (who I helped take care of in his final days) passed from Alzheimer’s.
He tells me he is a massage therapist and has this advertised on his profile. He tells me he has his own company and even tells me how much he charges per hour and gives me an email even to “schedule massages”!!!!
We end up moving things off of Tinder and he tells me he doesn’t have social media because when his sister passed away he promised her that he would “be more present”. This is also why he “got into massage therapy” because of his sister’s “illness”... I agree; okay, I will let you add me on Snapchat. I didn’t want to give him my phone number as I’ve had some weird experiences on here and I like to hold myself at a distance as well.
We chat every day for nearly a month, he tells me all kinds of things about his mom being dead (she passed when he was in middle school), even told me the home health care company he “uses for his dad”!!!!! We still don’t exchange numbers, but I did eventually ask and he told me he “uses for work” lmaooo, I know, red flag, but I respect boundaries, and I don’t know if he’s also met some crazies online as I have. I figure he will give it to me within a few times of meeting at this point.
We have a lot of things in common and we have really good conversation so I decide alright, I will meet him. We decided to meet at an apple orchard near where I live, a nice, outside, socially distanced first date. I am taking Covid seriously and he tells me the same, considering he “takes care of his father with dementia” so he told me he ALSO was avoiding eating out at bars and restaurants.
The day comes, and we meet at noon at this orchard. We spend a few hours walking around and talking and eventually pick a nice shady area to sit down and continue our conversation. Things were going really well, and honestly I got kind of nerdy vibes from him which I thought was sweet so I decided to go ahead and kiss him. We ended up making out in my car and I ended up being late to pick up my sister. He comes over two more times that week. Like Wednesday/Thursday and then again; Sunday, September 27.
This was the last time that I saw him in person. He tells me that week that he is having a surgery, even sent me a picture of him in a doctors office on Snapchat.. a real time photo that you could not make up. Now, being a NORMAL AND SANE PERSON... I believe he is in the hospital, right? Having surgery to “find out if he has cancer”... they were “removing a lump”... he ends up telling me a few weeks later that he does have cancer.. now, I didn’t want to break things off over text if he really did have cancer, so I was waiting until I could get him in front of me again. But then he never gets better. He tells me he has a lung infection(from the surgery) Covid, a blood clot from Covid, and finally even tells me that his best friend died and then a week later tells me that his mom and grandfather died.... wait.. what??? His mom died again? You heard me, she died a second time.
Now, let me tell you, December 1 I was having suspicious feelings, as his Tinder page said he was 5,000 miles away... but he’s supposed to be in the hospital with Covid at this point. Before the blood clot and the deaths. So I send him a picture of his profile and I asked him “aren’t you in the hospital?” And he immediately removed me from his matches, and told me he deleted it and that it must have been hacked..... LMAO, yup, he really said that.
Anyway, fast forward to the beginning of January this year. A week after he tells me his “best friend” passed away, he tells me his mom is dead for the second time and that his grandfather also passed. That’s when I got him eventually to call me and I asked him why I could not find any “insert first and last name here” with a massage therapy license or who graduated from the school he said he went to. Immediately, he hung up. He blocked me on Snapchat.
Now, of course, I know that he’s lying and I’m pretty sure it’s about his name. I had image searched his pics before but found nothing but dead end after dead end. When I say I was literally GOING INSANE trying to find this man. Literally contemplating hiring a PI.
Finally, I come across a website that has a paywall but seems promising. It scans for facial recognition. I put in his face from one of his tinder photos... LOW AND BEHOLD, the first picture that pops up.. it looks JUST like him but most of the photo is blurred. I screenshot that, and reverse image searched it.
I shit you not, I have never screamed so loud in my life. I have never been SO DAMN PROUD OF MYSELF. I found him! I found his damn STAR WARS COMPETITION PHOTO. THIS MAN NOT ONLY COMPETES IN STAR WARS LIGHT SABER COMBAT BUT TEACHES CLASSES.
I FUCKED A HUGE NERD!!!! Like, on par with fucking LARP-ing type shit nerd. I know I said I got nerdy vibes from this man, but this is some next level shit.
He even wore a Star Wars shirt to my house and I told him “You will hate this, but I have only seen one movie!” And he said “I’m not that into it!” THIS MAN TEACHES LIGHT SABER COMBAT.
From there, I find his company, his phone number, his Facebook, Instagram, and ultimately his wife. He’s even wearing the shirt he wore to the Orchard in one of her recent posts. I messaged her on multiple platforms, gave her all of the information that I know. Even going so far as to name his exact tattoo on his chest and the car he drives. That information is NOT on social media, so hopefully she draws the correct conclusion.
(I even went so far as to send a time stamped pic of his Tinder page being the exact amount of miles away as where they were on vacation together December 1)
She has told me that someone has "used his photos before years ago" ....and also she didn’t recognize his dick pic (which was odd because 100% I recognized the dick and I had only seen it twice).. but when I tell y'all that this man had a photo from his WEDDING, (less than a year before at the time we met!!!!! And not to mention he slept with me one day before his one year wedding anniversary 🤢🤢🤢) on his Tinder page. I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but your man is NOT that special, nobody is pretending to be him, and I certainly want nothing to do with someone who could lie about such unforgivable things.
He also deactivated his Facebook instead of confronting the issue which screams “guilty” to me, but it’s his life.
I pray that he seeks counseling, and I have submitted a report to Tinder. Here's to hoping they ban his cheating ass and everyone involved finds a better situation 🥂
Thank God I didn’t get covid from the whole thing, but I will be getting a full panel STD test. And I will not be meeting anyone without photo ID from here on out. I encourage anyone reading this to learn from my experience.
a final edit for the incel who keeps talking about how I fucked him on the first date in the comments LMAOO
We fucked on the second date. After talking for a month. About his dad with dementia and all kinds of other sick shit. He sent me real time photos of him and their dog, sitting in their hammock in the back yard. He was playing like a completely different person and acting like he wanted a relationship. He would fucking joke about HAVING KIDS WITH ME. DID NOT just meet this dude and fuck lmao. We also did use protection but that’s not always 100% trustable and a man who would lie about a dad with dementia and fucking cancer TO CATCH A NUT.... is a sicko.

I am a 52 year old making $116,000 a year, living in Northern Virginia and working as an analyst for a Federal agency

Happy New Year. I hope it is better than 2020. I am a 52 year old single female with no children who works for a US government agency as an analyst. I have been with the agency for over 15 years. Within those 15 years I have held two positions, one for three years and one for over 12 years. I wrote this diary to show the finances of someone who is older and seriously thinking about retirement. People in the sub want diversity, well here is some age diversity. My week was pretty normal for COVID times. I will also put out upfront, after the last NoVA diary, that my parents paid for my college and gave me $7,000 for my down payment and closing costs for my first home.
I was raised in a household where the only debt was a mortgage. My dad was a low level manager in a factory until late high school and my mom was a teacher who went back to teach full time when I was 10 after staying home for seven years. We never wanted for the essentials, but vacations were modest and extras were not expensive. We swam on the local swim team, did girl scouts, band and church activities. If you wanted something out of the norm you saved up your babysitting money or part-time job earnings. There was no new car for a 16th birthday present. They kept a car when a newer one was bought for our use. It was not our car. The keys could be taken away. We had to pay for the gas. I knew my parents gave to charity and to church. Money was not a taboo subject but it was not talked about extensively. My dad would be called frugal by many. My parents spending habits and lack of debt were how my older sister and I were able to go to college both without debt with my father unemployed for part of the time. Much of this rubbed off on me about debt, except I have only paid cash for a car once which my parents did for all their vehicles. Higher education was expected in my family. My dad has a BS and my mother had a Masters.
Most of the good and bad of my money journey has been on me with some significant help from my parents for life events like college and first home purchase. I also lived almost rent free for a few years in my childhood home while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life after college. I decided I did not want to teach. I did (and still do) have a lot of privilege.
Home ownership is very important to my father and this rubbed off on me. I think this was shaped by his age, he is the child of an immigrant and his parents lost their home when he was a young child during the Great Depression. Both my sister and I received assistance in purchasing our first homes.
I had one inheritance of $1,000 from my grandmother. I used the money to help fund travel to England and France when I was 24 with two of my best friends. I am glad I did travel then and did not save it. With one of my friends I always thought we would travel again after her children were older. Well the children are older, but she was diagnosed with early onset dementia at 51. I am glad I have a lot of good memories of our trip in Paris together.
Section One: Assets and Debt
Retirement Balance $480,000 split between TSP, Traditional Rollover IRA and Roth IRA. I got there by saving from every paycheck. It should be higher. I didn't really get serious about saving for retirement until 35. In my late 20’s and early 30’s I did not even save up to the match. That is my biggest money regret. My retirement balance was around $35,000 when I joined the Federal government at 37.
Equity $177,000 I purchased my first property for $64,000 with $7,000 in help from my parents in 1996. I sold my first property with about a $90,000 profit in 2006. I rolled about $76,000 of this equity into my new condo. Within two years I had lost all of my equity in the 2007 -2009 RE market slide. I was never underwater and I just kept paying my mortgage. The value of my condo finally increased over my purchase price about a year ago. This took over 10+ years. I started paying significant extra principal payments about two years ago. I now pay an extra $400 towards principle each month and a lump sum of $1500 twice a year when I get my two extra paychecks. I have approximately $54,000 left on the mortgage and I will hopefully pay it off in 2024 about 7 years early. I get paid 26 times a year and consider part of two of those checks extra. I work the majority of my budget off of 24 checks.
Savings account balance of multiple accounts $50,000. This includes about $15,000 designated as my emergency fund. I also keep $4,000 liquid in my Roth that could be used for emergencies.
Checking account balance $2300
Credit card debt $0. I pay my accounts off every month
Student loan debt $0. My parents and some savings from a grandparent paid for all four years of school for me. My last year of college in total was less than $7,500 including living on campus. My father was unemployed most of my senior year in high school and most of my freshman year in college. My parents incurred no debt for college for either myself or my sister who was two years ahead of me. I received a BA in History and certified to teach high school. I worked for my spending money during summers and three of the four school years.
Section Two: Income
Income Progression: I've been working for my agency for 15 years. I left my previous career in real estate finance as I was tired of making money for other people, 9/11 and some personal things that had happened in my life. I made $33,000 in my last job before joining the government. My starting salary was $39,000. I am on the GS schedule so I get some regular increases. I am currently a GS 13. I have the opportunity potentially to be a non-supervisory GS-14. My agency has made this last jump very difficult and I am very unmotivated to even try after hearing what happened during this year’s promotion process. I personally think, if the rumors are correct, there will be future lawsuits over the recent changes that were implemented this year to the process. I will likely top out my salary at between $124,00 to $130,000. I have eight to 10 years until I plan on retiring.
Main Job Monthly Take Home: $4749
Deductions:
Mandatory Pension Contribution $78 (.8%) Federal employees after 2013 I think have to contribute a mandatory 4.4% . Our pension is called FERS. It is based on the average of your highest three years of salary earnings x a multiplier (usually 1.0% or 1.1%) x your number of years of service. In order to get a full retirement with the health insurance benefit and a few other things you have to reach certain age and service requirements. I will receive around $30,000 from my pension a year with a COLA every year when I retire.
TSP and Catch Up $2187 (Half Roth and half Traditional. I recently switched to this mix) I max both for a total of $26,000. My agency matches 5%.
SS $586.86
Federal Taxes $1421.36
State Tax $459.81
Life Insurance in the amount of my salary $38.68 (I should probably get rid of this as I do not have any dependents who need my income)
Medicare $137.27
Health, Dental and Vision Insurance $197.77 I will have lifetime subsidized health insurance if I take a full retirement after reaching certain milestones and have had the insurance for five years before I retire. I am dropping vision insurance in 2021. I have a BC/BS PPO and I am fairly happy with my insurance.
Section Three: Expenses
Rent / Mortgage / HOA fees $1101 for mortgage that includes escrow for RE taxes, HOA $412. I am likely to get a large increase in my RE assessment in the spring so I anticipate my property tax escrow going up in 2021. I live in a large condo complex with amenities. HOA includes heating/cooling, gas for cooking, and electricity. Parking is free. My mortgage is a 20 yr fixed rate mortgage at 4.875%. That is high. I made the decision a few years ago to pay it down faster rather than pay the cost of a refinance. Now the balance is low enough it would be harder to find a lender who would lend such a low amount.
Renters / home insurance $385 per year. Since I own a condo, the master condo policy covers everything but the finishes, personal property, and personal liability for my unit
Retirement contribution $100 a month to my Roth IRA and I sometimes put extra money there from a refund or if I spend less than my budget for the month.
Savings contributions per month $300 for next car, $100 for vacations (plus tax refund), $100 for miscellaneous, $50 for 529 plan (I have one for each of the nieces/nephews) Saving $4,000 for each of them. All are fully funded but one. $60 for car repairs/maintenance, $320 for charity and $50 for medical expenses. When I pay off my mortgage my plan is to save up some larger cash or cash like reserves for retirement and maybe save for a specific travel goal I have when I retire.
Investment contribution $0 Retirement contributions are all of my investments right now
Debt payments $0 except mortgage
Donations $4,000 annually
Food I budget $200 for groceries and it varies but is usually lower and $250 for eating out. Eating out is one of my things
Clothing I budget $75 a month but some months I buy nothing and some I go over. This month I have spent about $150, but $75 of that is being returned. I do not like shopping online, but COVID has made that necessary. I have some flex in my budget so I am not going into any debt.
Household items I budget $75
Electric NA covered by HOA
Wifi/Cable/Landline $64 for internet
Cellphone $47
Subscriptions $30 Sling, $14.95 Audible, Kindle Unlimited $9.99, Amazon Prime $12.99. I use my sister’s Disney + and Netflix on a limited basis. I am going to shut down my Sling account when Discovery + starts up next week. It is supposed to be cheaper. Most of what I watch on Sling are shows that will be on Discovery +. I also need to pause my Audible account. I just don’t use it as much as I used to because so much spoken word media is free through podcasts.
Car insurance $775 I pay once a year
Gas $100-$125 a month. I commute about 55-60 miles a day by car. Public transportation is not a very good option. I also will be visiting my Dad more frequently which is a three hour drive each way.
Personal Property Taxes for Car (VA tax) $250 paid once a year
Extra principal payments for mortgage $7800 a year
Car registration state and local $75 a year
Hair. I spend $250 at least 4-5 times a year for my haircuts and highlights. In the DMV this is not super expensive and I could pay more. Spending on my hair is one of my things. I am not ready to go grey.
Day One
830 It is Christmas Eve and I don’t have to go to work due to the President giving us the day off. I sleep late and laze around in bed for a while looking at my phone. I finally get up and have a mug of tea. I wrap all of my gifts and bag them up for easy carrying tomorrow. I only spent about $300 this year on eight presents. My sister was always complaining about her Kindle so I got her a new one on Prime day. My brother in law gets microbrew beers from the Total Wine build your own six pack selection. The kids mostly get gift cards. My dad gets chocolates, Christmas cookies and a couple of jigsaw puzzles. I am not much in the Christmas spirit this year. I go and pick up my order from Best Buns of decorated Christmas cookies for my dad, a mozzarella and tomato sandwich and a container of their chicken salad. There is a bit of a traffic jam in front of the bakery. I love Best Buns ($36.24 with tip)
12 Noon I eat my tomato/mozzarella sandwich, grapes and some unsalted pretzels. I spend the afternoon reading, watching HGTV and YouTube videos. It is bleh outside so no motivation to go for a walk.
6 PM I eat the chicken salad for dinner and some more grapes. I ordered the Royal Ballet’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from their streaming site. I am a big ballet fan. It is a wonderful modern take on the story. ($3.38) I watch the ballet and then read until bedtime around 10.
Total for the day $39.62
Day Two
Merry Christmas. This one is a hard one for me personally and COVID just adds to that. I wake up around 8. I shower and dress and eat a CLIF bar. Around 1015 I leave to go see my dad in my hometown about three hours away. I pick up a breakfast biscuit and a drink at the only thing open, McDonald's as I will not be eating lunch with my family. ($5.38) It starts to flurry. When I am about an hour away the grass is covered. We are sort of having a white Christmas. I get to my hometown and stop by my sister’s house to drop off their presents in a socially distanced way. I also pick up brownies for me and my dad that my niece made and a pie for my dad. You can tell a theme here. He loves his sweets. My dad lives in an assisted living facility and my visit can only be 45 minutes with my dad and I both masked and sitting apart. I check in and get my temperature taken. We open gifts on Zoom with my sister and her family. I do a couple of things for my dad around his apartment and it is time for me to leave. I am very sad to leave. I drive back home. On the way home I hit a snow squall. I cannot see 200 ft in front of me, but it is not sticking. I get home around 530 and I throw a frozen pizza in the oven. I have no desire to cook. I binge on some HGTV shows I have never watched and go to bed early.
I wanted to comment on the decision to visit my dad. The facility is following all the regulations the state has laid out. They are under a lot of scrutiny as they had an outbreak in their nursing center back in the spring. My dad has suffered a lot of cognitive decline during lock down. We feel the risk is worth trying to help some to slow down more decline. We could not visit until July except for window visits. We can only visit once a week for 45 minutes. This is not an easy decision, but one we feel is the best for him. It is only my sister or I visiting. I try to visit every two or three weeks. He is scheduled to get the vaccine in January.
Total for the day $5.38
Day Three
745 AM Wake up before my alarm and doze and think for a while. Finally get up around 9 and clean my bathroom. I find that I get things like that done more often if I do them at the beginning of the day. I look in the fridge to see if there is anything I want for breakfast. Nothing but several things that need to be thrown away. A CLIF bar and a mug of tea will have to do. I need to go to the grocery store.
1230 PM I went to the dry cleaners (masked) to pick up my quilt and a few other items which were prepaid when I dropped them off. $31.50 prepaid so not included in totals. I stop for a takeout chicken sandwich and a drink. ($6.87) I head home, eat my lunch and log on to my bank account to move money around since I got paid today. There is more in this check than normal. I will have to figure out why when I can get on my work site to pull up my paycheck stubs. I am having technical two factor authentication issues and someone at work has to reset my “factors.” I pay my credit card bills. I like to pay each pay period right before I get my next check. I think this helps me keep better control on my un-budgeted spending. I text a little bit with one of my roommates from college.
7 PM I just got the AMEX Platinum card and it has some unique benefits. They give you $50 credit at Saks 5th Avenue twice a year. I log on to the Saks website and I can hardly afford anything or I am not willing to pay their prices. I found a pair of panties and a pair of socks for $45.59 with tax. I never pay $28 for a pair of socks but since I will get a credit I will order them. As another perk they refund $200 of airline fees like for baggage each year. I will likely not be flying until late next year or 2022. There are some tricks to get the refund. I put $200 in my United Airline travel bank and I will get the $200 refunded. After owning the Platinum card for 12 month between two calendar years I will have $400 in the travel bank to use on United. It is the airline I usually have to fly for work because they are the contract carrier for many routes out of the DC area for the US government. This card has a huge annual fee of $550. I will likely only keep it for only one year. I am working on a sign up bonus. I am saving Amex MR points to try to fly business class to Asia sometime in the future.
8 PM I call my Dad to chat for a few minutes, eat some leftover chili and then read until I go to bed around 1000.
Total for the day $252.46
Day 4
Wake up around 745. Eat my CLIF bar and tea. I think about going to the grocery store. I decide to go after work tomorrow. I have to do laundry. I hate doing laundry as I do not have my own washedryer. They are not allowed in individual units in my building as the pipes (which are older) cannot handle everyone having a washedryer.This was one of the things I compromised on to get a better location when I bought my condo. $4.00 for two loads wash and dry.
1230 PM Eat a salad. I have a dull headache and lay down to take a nap.
230 PM I take a long walk around my neighborhood. Good to get out in the fresh air.
4 PM I have a credit on Uber and order a grilled cheese sandwich and fries from Bus Boys & Poets. I also get their hummus platter and will keep that for part of lunch or dinner tomorrow. $27.56 with fees and tip. I had a $35 credit on my Uber app. I waste time going down some rabbit holes on YouTube. Have you seen any of the music reaction videos from TwinstheNewTrend? Love their reactions to old school music.
Total for the day $31.56
Day 5
700 Alarm goes off and I read on my phone for a few minutes. I shower and dry my hair and I am out the door for work. I listen to FrequentMiler on the Air podcast during my commute. Best thing about COVID (if there is anything positive) is that my commute to the office is much better. I cannot work from home. I catch up on a few things left over from last week. I eat my CLIF bar and drink a mug of tea made with one of the tea bags I got for Christmas from my sister. It is very quiet around the office. I touch base with a coworker who will be working from one of our other offices away from DC for two months to check if she can help out with a small project while she is in the other office. I get lunch around 1130. Salad, fruit and a bottled iced tea for $14.34. The afternoon drags on. I leave an hour early. I will take annual leave. My bosses are very flexible on days like today. They are not clock watchers.
430 PM Home and dinner is left over chili and hummus and carrots from my Uber Eats order last night. I work on some paperwork that needs to be filled out for my dad pertaining to finances. Dealing with aging parents is not easy and it is not easy for them. I search on Etsy to try to make up my mind on a new leather handbag. I am tired of the handles on cheaper purses fraying. I am looking to buy a handmade leather bag. Of course the one I really want is out of my price range of what I want to spend at almost $300. I am trying to keep the price as close to $200 as I can, but get what I want. I think I know which one I will order but I will sleep on it.
Total for the day $14.34
Day Six
0700 Repeat wake up and read on my phone. Shower and dry my hair. Off to work. I have to stop and get gas.($20.10) I listen to the Real Crime Profile podcast on my commute. Not much going on at work. It is actually more quiet today than it was yesterday. I do some research that I need to give to the person completing a project that I want my input taken into consideration. Tea and another CLIF bar. I spend 40 minutes on hold with the payroll people trying to get my 2 factor authentication reset. Turns out my agency has to put in the request for security reasons. I call HR and put in a ticket. I review a product I am a collaborator on. The graphic is all wrong for my piece of the project. My boss asks me to review something for clarity. Off to lunch where I pick up a chicken wrap sandwich, fruit and soda for $11.42. I work on my slides for a presentation in January, but I find out I need to change the slide template to a new one my division has just approved so I will finish it tomorrow. A friend stops by and we chat too long.
I am out the door at five. Leftover hummus and carrots along with soup I took out of the freezer for dinner when I get home. I go down more rabbit holes on Etsy to find my new purse. I thought I had made a decision, but I found a few more I like. I also finish up my charitable giving for the year. I donate the final $620 to a food bank in my hometown that my family was involved in for many years and a charity that assists with natural disaster relief. I talk to my dad about the paperwork I am helping him with. We have a three way call with my sister regarding some of his new health issues that have developed. My sister tends to deal with the immediate things as she is near by and I help with things like doctor’s visits that are planned. I try to spit duties with my sister so she is not overwhelmed, but it is difficult.
Total for the day $651.52
Day 7
My weekday routine is basically the same during the week. My arrival time at work is flexible as long as we put in our eight hours and we are there during “core” hours 10-2. Some people have gotten permission for unique schedules during COVID due to child care, schooling or other needs. I try to get out the door before 8 AM. I listen to the Afford Anything podcast on the drive to work. Tea and a CLIF bar again. I am very much a creature of habit. I decide to take two hours of leave this afternoon. I have a coworker review my slides for my future presentation and she makes some good suggestions. I make changes and move them to the new template. I don’t like the new template. Too much white space.
12 PM I work through lunch and grab a snack from the snack shop in our breakroom. $.50 for a bag of crackers and $.50 for a Diet Coke. I stop by a friend’s desk and during our chat it comes out that I am interested in getting involved with a project in another division at some point in the future. It is the type of project that people get picked for because someone recommends you. My friend has a lot of contacts in that division and offers to call people and tell them I am interested. I greatly appreciate it. Now is not the right time for me to try to get involved as my team will be down a person for a few months, but maybe in the spring or summer. When I mentor young employees I always stress how it is important to build your network of people within the organization. You never know when you will need something or you can help someone else out. This friend, who is going to help me out, and I have worked on and off together for over six years.
3 PM I head home. Late lunch/early dinner is soup and hummus and carrots. I get sucked back into the Etsy hole again. Finally I have made my decision. It is the bag I thought I had decided two days ago to buy for $197.17 with tax. It is a splurge. I have had a very difficult time personally since mid-November. I don’t like to get into the I deserve it mentality as I believe that is a dangerous mind set, but I deserve it. The money will come out of my miscellaneous savings.
730 PM I call to check on my dad. He is back on lock down at his assisted living facility due to a positive staff member who came to work when they were asymptomatic and did not know they were positive. I am finally able to log on to my payroll site. I figured out that I had extra in my paycheck because I made a mistake earlier in the year and had more deducted for my TSP than I should have one pay period. I basically maxed everything out a little early this year. I took the entire day off tomorrow so I think I will stay up and start the Bridgerton series on Netflix.
Total for the day $198. 17
Total for the week $1193.05
Food + Drink $102.81
Fun 3.38
Home + Health $4.00
Clothes + Beauty $242.76
Transport 20.10
Other $820
Spending was a little strange this week. $23 of the Uber Eats costs were taken from a $35 credit on my Uber account since I tied the account to my AMEX Platinum card. Also $45.59 in the clothing category and the $200 in travel will be refunded by my AMEX card due to card benefits. Also I don’t spend $700 in charitable donations all the time. I tend to usually donate mid year and at the end of the year. I never made it to the grocery store. I will probably do it tomorrow.
Link to the bag I bought in black https://www.etsy.com/listing/235685969/handbag-small-leather-tote-bag-leather

I don’t know the right things to say anymore

Grandpa Doesn't Sleep

That was what my mother told me one day, while picking me up from Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I often spent my summer nights there, as I happened to live in the same town as my grandparents, a luxury many other kids didn’t have. During the day, it was everything a kid could hope for: we baked cookies, ate ice cream, visited playgrounds. But at night, whenever I left the spare bedroom to get a drink of water (or take a leak), I could often glimpse Grandpa in the living room, awake in his reclining chair with the light on beside him. Spaced out while watching static flicker on the TV. It occurred to me that I’d never seen him go to bed.
After one too many 3 a.m. trips to the toilet, I finally asked my mother why Grandpa stayed awake in his chair all night. All she said was, “Grandpa just doesn’t sleep. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
By the time I was old enough to understand that my Grandpa suffered from acute and chronic insomnia, I had stopped spending much time with him. Instead, I was sixteen, a junior in high school, and way out of Felicity Alderson’s league. The only time I saw my grandparents were at holidays and funerals. It might sound cruel that I had allowed us to drift apart, that I had inadvertently cut them out of my life when we lived so close in distance, but at a certain point you become too old for playgrounds and cartoons every weekend. Besides, my grandparents were getting old and they had better things to do than look after me.
Things changed when I woke up to a phone call at two in the morning. My heart skipped a beat when I recognized my Grandma’s number, knowing intuitively that late night calls are never a good thing.
“Grandma?”
“Caleb! Oh, Caleb, please get here quick…” She was sobbing. In the background, I could hear things breaking, glass and furniture thrown and smashed. “It’s your Grandpa… he has a gun…” She dissolved into sobs, but I didn’t need to hear anymore. I told her I was on my way and hung up. I was halfway out the door when I realized I needed car keys. Having just acquired a driver’s license, I didn’t own a car, so I had to use my Dad’s. I ran into my parents’ bedroom, blurted something about going to Grandma’s, and fumbled in the dark for the car keys. The next thing I knew, I was speeding down residential streets that were completely dead, not a car among them.
It was dark, of course, but Grandma’s house was easy to spot because the lights were on. Of course they were. Grandpa doesn’t sleep.
I rushed across a wet lawn in socks, and when I shouldered open the front door, a violent blast nearly took my head off. The sound left me momentarily deaf. When I turned back toward the wall, I saw where numerous pellets had just impacted the sheetrock. The blast had barely missed me.
Ten feet ahead was Grandpa, aiming a double-barrel shotgun at me. His white hair was frizzed out and his arms were scratched up, presumably from breaking things. He fumbled to reload the gun, not taking his eyes off me.
“Don’t shoot! It’s me, Grandpa. It’s Caleb.”
For a moment, there was a vague flicker of recognition on his face, and then he lowered the gun. Instead of taking a second shot, he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my shirt tightly in his fists.
“Caleb!” he spat, wildly deranged. “Caleb, you have to get out of here! They’re coming for me! It isn’t safe!”
“Who’s coming for you?”
“The Insomniacs! I’ve seen them, they’re in the house! Don’t look them in the eyes!”
“It’s okay, Grandpa,” I told him, “No one’s coming after you. You’re safe.”
This I was sure of. What grudge anyone would have against my eighty-two year old grandpa was a mystery, and besides, this day was a long time coming. Admittedly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. The man barely slept, found it increasingly difficult as he got older, and was bordering on dementia, although this escapade had probably sent him over the edge. I reckoned this was the final straw before he’d be admitted to a nursing home, which obviously should have happened sooner.
I gently eased the gun away from him and he slowly collapsed to the floor, old bones creaking, hugging his arms and muttering under his breath. Beyond the entryway was the living room, although now it was in shambles. Coffee tables had been flipped, shattered glass was strewn across the floor, and an ornate hutch containing chinaware had been tipped onto its face. The TV was a frenzy of static. I found my grandma huddled in the corner, shivering and crying. When she saw me come in with the gun, she ran over and hugged me.
“Thank-you, Caleb. God bless you.”
She explained that she hadn’t called the police because she didn’t want grandpa to be arrested or, possibly, killed. As it turned out, the cops showed up anyway because the neighbors had reported a loud gunshot next door. Red and blue lights flashed through the glass window of the front door, and when I opened it, two officers were on the porch step asking if I was okay.
I explained that this was my grandfather’s house and that I’d found him wielding a gun, but he never intended to hurt anyone with it. That he was senile and believed someone was after him. He believed he was protecting my Grandma.
Erring on the side of caution, the officers wanted to talk to Grandpa about his pursuers. Soon, all of us were in the living room, huddled around an upside down coffee table. My grandmother had draped a blanket over Grandpa’s shoulders. It made him look much smaller, frailer, like a frightened child hiding under the covers. He was relaxed now, but spoke of the incident with great vigor.
“You must believe me,” he implored, “they are real and they are coming! I’ve seen them in the house. They’re everywhere… don’t look them in the eyes… those horrible eyes…”
“Do you know who these people are?” asked one of policemen.
My grandfather leaned forward and said in a whisper, “The Insomniacs!”
Even as a sixteen year old kid, I thought it was fairly obvious what the Insomniacs were: a physical manifestation of my grandfather’s lifelong ailment, insomnia. They were spawned from a confusing mess of paranoia and dementia, a fear of never sleeping. Now all those sleepless nights and mental fog were getting to him, and he was powerless against it.
The police probably understood this, but entertained the notion long enough to pacify my Grandpa and put his mind at ease. That didn’t stop them from asking him to describe the Insomniacs, though, and before they left, they’d sketched a depiction straight from my grandfather’s overactive imagination.
It was a black-bodied humanoid, perpetually in shadow so you could never see the details, with no clothes or any defining characteristics. The only visible part of it were the eyes, two white swirls which, according to my Grandpa, were “always spinning”. Looking it in the eyes was akin to being hypnotized to stay awake. Stare at the sun long enough and you go blind; stare an Insomniac in the eyes, and you never go to sleep.
Before the officers left, one of them pulled my grandmother and me aside. “I’m sure it’s clear by now, but these are some pretty big red flags. I can’t force you to take any action, but I strongly recommend that you consider long-term care options, for his safety and for yours. You really got off lucky tonight. I don’t want to get called out here again and find something much worse.”
With that, he pulled the door shut behind him and we were left standing in the entryway. At the thought of admitting Grandpa to a nursing home, my grandmother was tearing up again. I told her it would be fine and that we’d find a solution that worked best for everyone, but truthfully, I didn’t know what other option we had.
My parents finally showed up around four in the morning, delayed by the fact that I’d stolen my Dad’s car keys and my Mom had lost hers. By then, my grandmother and I had cleaned up most of the glass and broken furniture. Grandpa sat on the couch, looking around nervously, occasionally asking me where he’d left his gun. The truth was that I’d hidden it in the garage, but of course, I didn’t tell him that.
“I don’t know, Grandpa. Just try to relax.”
We explained the situation to my parents and by daybreak, all of us decided that a nursing home was the best option for Grandpa. After all, it should have happened long before it reached this point. Grandma was reluctant to agree, but ultimately, she knew it was the best thing for her husband. She was worried how he would fare in a nursing home. How he would sleep without her.
But of course, we all knew that Grandpa doesn’t sleep.
***
Sunny Oaks was only three blocks away and seemed to be the most obvious choice for us. It wasn’t the largest or the fanciest nursing home I’d ever seen, but Grandma could visit Grandpa whenever she wanted and Grandpa would get the care that he needed. Three square meals a day, light physical therapy, games, social interaction, and proper attention to medication. That was more care than he was getting at home and I had no doubt in my mind that Grandpa’s mental state would soon take a turn for the better. Plus, the staff was friendly and introduced us to Grandpa’s new room with exquisite confidence.
While we organized his clothes and toiletries, Grandpa peeled back the window curtains and scanned the property for invisible threats. He must have been satisfied with what he saw because at some point he turned to us and said, “Yes. Yes, this will be fine for now.”
Before we left, Grandma gave him a long, tight hug and said that she’d visit him every day, as often as she could. She clicked on the TV for him, but as we left the room, I saw Grandpa switch it to one of those non-existent channels that plays nothing but static on a 24/7 loop.
***
The next time I saw Grandpa was when we visited him as a family the next weekend. At some point he’d been given a wheelchair, which I was glad to see because Grandpa hadn’t been particularly mobile in the past few years. We found him wheeled in front of the TV, watching static while one of the nurses made his bed. I knew from our first visit that this was Cheryl, a studious lady with a cheerful personality.
“Just changing the sheets,” she said when we came in, “though I doubt he’ll need them. Your Grandpa doesn’t sleep a wink!”
My father reminded her about Grandpa’s insomnia and asked if he’d been taking his meds.
Cheryl nodded. “Twice a day, eight and eight, though they don’t seem to be helping much. Every time I’m in here, he’s awake. None of the other residents can keep their eyes open, it seems.” She gave Grandpa a gentle pat on the arm. “He’s too busy watching that darned TV all night. Isn’t that right, honey?”
Grandpa looked up at her as if coming out of a trance, the first time his eyes had left the television. Only now did he seem to notice anyone was in the room. He didn’t say anything, just smiled weakly.
***
Grandma died after Christmas. It was a shock to everyone. Of the two of them, she’d been the healthiest. The medical examiner said it was a stroke. Brought on by what, nobody knew for sure, but I think we all knew deep down that putting Grandpa in the nursing home played a part.
Grandpa took the news better than I’d expected. If he even took the news at all, that is. He just stared at the TV, watching static crackle across the screen.
***
When I realized that Grandpa was no longer getting daily visits from anyone, I started seeing him more often. I don’t know what compelled me to do so. Part of me hoped I’d find him sleeping, that I could rest assured it was even possible for him anymore, but each time I visited Sunny Oaks he was awake.
Partially.
He was wholly unresponsive and stared at the TV static with red, tired eyes. Drool leaked out of his mouth and into his lap. I picked up the remote and changed it to Spongebob. Before I left the room, he changed it back to static. Frustrated at him, at everyone, maybe at no one in particular, I changed the TV back to Spongebob and kicked the remote under the bed. Grandpa made no effort to pick it up. He gave no indication he’d noticed the change.
Something about watching him sit there, dumbly, with no emotion and no frustration made an irrational anger build up inside me. I told him his wife was dead and that he didn’t care. That he’d nearly shot me in the head because of some imaginary monsters he’d created. That Grandma might still be alive if he’d put a little more effort into controlling himself. After I ran out of things to berate him for, I yelled about all the other things that made me angry.
What made me angry more than anything though, was that by the time I left, he was still watching the TV as if he hadn’t heard a word.
***
I didn’t visit Grandpa until another month had passed. I was scared he had heard me, or even worse, had understood me. By the time I was ready to apologize, I found him reclined in bed, staring into space. Cheryl told me that the staff had been encouraging him to sleep ever since they realized how severe his insomnia had become. After that, they kept a close eye on him. His sleeping medication had been changed to something much stronger, but miraculously, it didn’t seem to be helping. I wasn’t surprised, not really. After all, Grandpa doesn’t sleep.
When Cheryl left the room, I stayed for a while longer. I didn’t want to wrestle the old man further from sleep with a useless apology, so instead I pulled up a chair and sat at his bedside. I don’t know how long I sat there before Grandpa became the most responsive he’d been in weeks.
He gasped loudly, so suddenly that I leapt from the chair, arcing his back as if he’d just been pulled from the brink of death. His eyes darted wildly around, lucid and afraid. When he noticed me, he was no longer an unresponsive vegetable but the same man who had nearly shot me in the head a year ago. He grabbed at my clothes, pulling me closer.
“Caleb! You can’t be here! The Insomniacs are here with us! They’re in the building! You have to listen to me! It’s too late for me, but you can save yourself! Don’t look them in the eyes, Caleb!”
It wasn’t long before all the yelling attracted the attention of several nurses nearby. Soon, there was a team of people surrounding my Grandpa, trying to restrain him. I backed away until I felt myself hit the wall. One of the nurses brandished a syringe and struggled to stick it in my grandfather’s arm. A sedative.
But after several more agonizing moments of chaos, nothing had changed. I knew the sedative wouldn’t work. Grandpa doesn’t sleep. He just kept yelling my name and screaming incoherent nonsense, so I left. I could still hear him at the end of the hall, and by the time I left the building, I was sure he was still yelling. Yelling about the Insomniacs.
***
I didn’t visit Grandpa for a while after that. I told myself that seeing me might trigger one of his violent episodes, but deep down, I knew I was afraid. Not afraid of his delusional rantings but afraid of seeing him in that vegetable state, staring blankly at static. I hated seeing him that way. It wasn’t the Grandpa I had known, and it wasn’t the Grandpa I wanted to remember.
Who knows how long I would’ve gone without visiting him - maybe indefinitely, until I wouldn’t be able to anymore – if I hadn’t seen it. The Thing.
I was waiting at a crosswalk, on my way home from school, when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye.
There, across the street, was a shadow figure.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes. It was still there. A silhouette in broad daylight. In the distance, but watching me. Watching me with eyes made of spirals that twisted infinitely into its head. It was hypnotic. Enchanting. Voices filled my head, strange whispers that my mind was picking up as though tuning to a distant radio signal.
Then a bus passed between us, and the creature was gone. The voices faded away and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. The overwhelming feeling that I’d just seen something I wasn’t supposed to made me nauseous. I remembered the police sketch depicting an Insomniac and recognized it immediately.
I couldn’t process fully what had happened, not right then, but I knew there was only one person who could help me. Instead of going home, I turned on my heel and ran as fast as I could toward Sunny Oaks…
***
…but by the time I reached my Grandpa’s nursing home, I found his room empty. The bedsheets had been neatly folded on top of the mattress and the TV was switched off.
Frantic, I asked the nurse at the front desk where my Grandpa was. She told me he’d been transferred to the local hospital that afternoon when they realized how severe his insomnia was. She didn’t think he’d slept at all in five consecutive days, which was extremely dangerous for a person his age. Instead of thanking her, I turned and ran.
The distance between Sunny Oaks and the hospital was a long one, especially on foot. I found myself keeping to the shadows, lowering my head. Sometimes I risked a sporadic glance over my shoulder or a quick sweep across the street, becoming increasingly paranoid. And what was worse was that I did spot them. High up in windows. Driving cars. Reading newspapers.
How I’d never noticed them before was a mystery beyond the end of time. I decided that seeing Insomniacs was something you had to unlock, something that shouldn’t be visible to the naked eye. At least, I’d never noticed them in all the time my grandfather spoke about them.
Strange, otherworldly whispers faded in and out of my head as I walked, thoughts that weren’t my own, threatening my sanity. From the edges of my vision, Insomniacs watched me, their spiral eyes tempting me to look into them.
When I finally reached the hospital, I demanded my grandfather’s room number and what they had done to him. I learned that the hospital staff had, in an emergency effort to give him rest, attempted to medically induce a coma but for some unknown reason was unable to. But I knew the reason. Grandpa doesn’t sleep. He was holding on for now, they said, but things weren’t looking good.
I found Grandpa on the third floor, reclined in a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor. The beeps were slow and steady, coming more scarcely than I thought they should. Grandpa didn’t look at me when I walked in, just stared ahead, seeing nothing. I knelt by his bedside and nudged him gently.
“Grandpa! You were right! You were right all along, I know that now. Nobody believed you. Not even me. But I’ve seen them. The Insomniacs… they’re real.”
Grandpa didn’t acknowledge that he heard me. I didn’t expect him to, but it felt good to get it off my chest. He just laid there, his breathing ragged and shallow. Tears brimmed my eyes and spattered on his bedsheets.
“Please wake up, Grandpa,” I said, holding his hand with both of mine. It was too cold, I thought. “If you can hear me, please wake up. I’m scared. I should have believed you. We never should have taken you away from Grandma, you were just trying to warn us. Please forgive me, Grandpa, I’m so sorry…”
I didn’t say anymore because my throat closed up and I couldn’t choke the words out. Instead I just lowered my head and let the teardrops fall into my lap. I sat there for a long time, listening to the soft beeps and whirs of medical machines.
“Caleb…”
I looked up. Grandpa was looking at me. His voice was weak, barely audible, but I’d heard it. Shakily, he moved a hand over mine. “Don’t be afraid, Caleb. Don’t be…”
His voice trailed off and I had the peculiar impression he was looking not at me but through me. Then his eyes glassed over and the heart monitor flatlined in a monotonous tone.
I shook Grandpa, but he didn’t move. “Grandpa!” I said in denial. “Grandpa, wake up! Please wake up!”
The tone was still ringing in my ears as several doctors rushed around me and attended to the body, attempting to revive him. Nothing took. In the end, I decided it was for the best. It was a rest for which he was long overdue; Grandpa doesn’t sleep.
***
We buried Grandpa next to Grandma. The plot was ready to go, since Grandpa’s passing wasn’t entirely unexpected. It still hurt more than I could’ve imagined. I thought about all those times we got ice cream and watched movies. I decided that was the Grandpa I was going to remember, not the bedridden widower that had spent the last year of his life trying to warn the rest of us about things we refused to see.
The funeral was small, led by the pastor of a church he had not attended in over a year. It was a windy graveside service on a cloudy summer day. I didn’t hear much of the eulogy. I was busy watching the creature at the edge of the tree line, the one with shadowy skin and spirals for eyes.
Ever since I’d first glimpsed the creature across the street, sleep had been next to impossible. The only solace I had from the paranoia was steady white noise, and television static was my only hope for drowning out the whispering voices in my head. I could look at it for hours, and when I was alone in my room at night, I did. It was as easy as turning to a channel that didn’t exist and letting myself melt into a void of endless nothingness.
After the funeral, I didn’t grieve with the rest of my family. I had already done that in the days leading up to it. Now I was exhausted and scared, dreading a life without sleep. I got rid of my bed because I knew I wouldn’t need it anymore. Underneath was Grandpa’s shotgun, the one I’d taken for myself when we sold his house after Grandma died. I’d already stockpiled my Dad’s car with ammo, in preparation for what I was about to do. After all, the Insomniacs are what did this to him. To me. I would make sure it never happened to anyone else. It was a long road ahead, and I was out for blood.
I left that night. I had to make one stop first. I wasn’t going to make the journey alone, of course. There was no way I’d stand a chance against all of them. I parked at the front gate and popped the trunk, then removed the shovel.
The place was locked and I had to climb the fence to get in. The spiked iron bars tore at my clothes, the ones I’d worn to the funeral only hours earlier. The headstone was just as we’d left it, but when I put my ear to the dirt, I could hear him moving. Breathing. Scratching softly from below.
I put a foot to the shovel and forced it into the earth. It would take a while to get six feet down, but of course, I knew my grandfather was waiting on me.
Grandpa doesn’t sleep.
X

Book 2 Chapter 2: The Faithful Traitor

General Scott Drake
I sat in a conference room. They had turned it into an interrogation room with two other generals facing me across a long table.
“Did you know Timothy Crestfall was, in fact, Timothy Misho?” General Conner asked me, sitting at the head of the table. He was a bigger fellow, on the older side of 60.
“No,” I said flatly.
A slightly younger general, General Schultz, in his early 50s followed up, “You have been against a great number of the POTUS’s decisions, General Drake, how do we know you're loyal to this country?”
“I fight for this country, Generals,” I narrowed my eyes, “This would require me giving our Commander in Chief my honest opinion of the situation at hand.”
“You most recently were against recapturing Zepherina Hippolyte, a former operative who clearly has clearly joined the enemy,” General Conner stated.
“It was a terrible idea and I’ll stand by that. Zepherina was only trying to use her heritage as leverage with Ragna to negotiate a ceasefire. I have met Zepherina Hippolyte, she is not a violent person.”
General Schultz, the younger general laughed, “Tell that to the poor bastards in Mexico City.”
I narrowed my eyes on him, “Reports indicated that the Steward of Penthesil, Theodora Regias, was shot by one of our soldiers. She died in Zepherina’s arms during the hamfisted attempt to capture her,” I shouted.
“She resisted, these Penthesilian girls aren’t like normal women, General Drake. I hope you’re well aware that Theodora Regias is equally sized as Zepherina and posed a measurable threat to our soldiers,” General Schultz stated.
“And yet despite there being a measurable threat, we still attempted to capture her during an agreed-upon peace summit? You realize that action violates UN laws.” I pointed out, “The POTUS was an idiot to try it.”
“Speaking pretty boldly for a man facing potential treason charges,” General Schultz accused.
“I work for the betterment of this country!” I yelled, “If that means telling POTUS the truth about poor military actions then so be it. If I may be so bold, I prefer to tell POTUS how to act, not take the POTUS’s desires and whims at face value!” I glared at General Schultz, “let’s be clear that managing a business and the military of a nation are vastly different things,” I argued.
Someone walked into the room, whispering to the two Generals.
Both Generals looked to me, concerned.
“What?” I asked.
General Conner got to his feet, “A disturbing communication just came from the US/Mexican border in Texas.”
“Disturbing?” I lifted an eyebrow, trying to hide my growing concern. “Generals have there been formal charges levied against me or just suspicion? Because it sounds like we have a problem.”
General Schultz nodded, getting to his feet, “We’re being pulled into a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff now. POTUS is extremely upset.”
The two Generals led the way and I followed shortly behind them. Rushing towards me from one of the hallways, I spotted Dr. Underhill.
Dr. Underhill caught up with me, walking alongside me, “General Drake, I have some information regarding what happened,” Dr. Underhill began.
I fell back a few paces from the other Generals, “Well? What do you know?” I whispered.
Dr. Underhill leaned in close, whispering, “Zepherina has committed to Ragna’s cause. She’s used Theodora’s death to rally the entire nation in a campaign against the United States and has breached the US/Mexcian border wall,” Dr. Underhill informed me, pulling away, “We’ve been invaded by Ragna, with Zepherina’s help.”
“What is your source?” I questioned.
Dr. Underhill’s attention turned towards the doors before us, “You have a meeting to attend, General, I will wait outside and make preparations.”
“Preparations?” I asked, confused as to what Dr. Underhill was on about.
“For protocol Red Wing,” Dr. Underhill informed me.
I stopped, allowing the other Generals to move into the meeting room. I narrowed my eyes to Dr. Underhill, “Vlad… it’s not that dire, is it?” I asked with a hint of desperation.
Dr. Underhill nodded to me, “Yessir, it is.”
Dr.Underhill discretely showed me a video on his phone from what appeared to be some kind of aerial footage.
I saw the fully completed and reinforced US/Mexican border wall. POTUS used Ragna’s invasion to push for new emergency funding for the wall’s military-grade reinforcement.
With the United States Army Corps of Engineers handling the project rather than the Department of Homeland Security and whatever rag-tag group of third party contractors had bid on the project, the work was done not only quickly, but with an effective military attitude.
We were not just installing searchlights nor were we placing passable barriers for wildlife.
We were building a barrier for vehicles and personnel. Massive pillars loaded with pillboxes filled with armed soldiers, 50. Cal machine guns with S.A.M. Rockets to boot. The guard towers weren’t for surveillance, they were for defense.
The wall was reinforced concrete with a line of razor wire as well. As if flaunting the thing out for everyone to see, there was a lighting set up along the length that could be seen from several clicks away.
What I saw was an aerial view of a section of the wall, soldiers patrolling it, as a black figure raced across the Mexican side, straight at the wall, with alarming speed.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Zepherina,” Dr. Underhilll stated clearly.
I watched as a sonic boom surrounded her body mere moments before she crashed through the wall as if it were nothing more than a stack of cardboard boxes.
The tower shifted and the central cement panel she had burst through creaked, and finally collapsed completely, taking down the two armed guard towers attached to either side of it.
I was shocked, to say the least.
Dr. Underhill placed his phone in his pocket. “Scott, if you stay here they’re going to court-martial you for defending Zepherina. She’s now openly attacked us. If you come with me, you’ll have a chance to continue to fight alongside The Guardian Temple.”
“That’s treason. Actual treason!” I growled quietly at Dr. Underhill.
“Not against God,” Dr. Underhill explained.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I recalled my sins.
I remembered the day clearly. My men on patrol in Afghanistan. We came upon a village where the local Taliban was being less than co-operative.
“Sir, they aren’t giving us permission to go through,” My Major had informed me.
I looked at the timetable, “Fuck ‘em, they can let us through or we will force our way through. We’re going through one way or another.”
Pride. It’s a sin for a reason.
We rolled through a town with no defenses, the local Taliban consisted of ten guys with AKs, half of them were kids, no older than twelve.
I remember stopping briefly to confirm a kill.
The kid’s intestines were spilling out of his body, and the kid glared up at me and he spat, “Khwdey de... baikh... ubasa…” as the light left his eyes shortly after.
I asked the translator about it. ‘May God uproot you,’ was the translation.
I laughed at the insult.
Then when I saw Timothy, a literal angel, I still didn’t think much of it. Until I entered the Guardian Temple.
Then I knew my sins were going to come back to me. That’s when I knew that I had to do everything I could to help Timothy Crestfall.
I turned to Dr. Underhill, “Vlad, I’ll consider it, but let’s see how this meeting goes.”
Dr. Underhill gave me a nod as I walked into the room.
Sitting at the head of the table was President William Fustian.
He had a terrible dirty blond hairpiece that did not match his white hair. He was pushing seventy, but despite that had the youthful face of a fifty-year-old man. He sat in a poorly sized suit that made his shoulders look far larger than they were.
A tacky red tie and an American flag pin on his lapel completed the outfit.
He looked to us with tired blue eyes, furious, with sweat dripping from his brow. “Gentlemen,” President Fustian began.
I disliked the man because he had no idea what he was doing in his position when it came to the military. Economic decisions? Fine. He was a businessman. But where he should have differed to our military knowledge and experience. He often ignored our advice when it came to military procedures.
To say it was infuriating was an understatement.
I served as a soldier, I worked my entire life in the military to get to the honored rank of General.
This joker is now my boss thanks to a glorified popularity contest we call an ‘Election’.
“I just got reports that our borders have been breached by the Mexicans,” President Fustian shouted.
“Penthesilians,” the President’s Secretary of State, Tillman Rod, stated. Tillman Rod was a portly man with thin hair, thick glasses, and what looked like a permanent look of ‘I just ran up a flight of stairs and am out of breath’ plastered on his face. Apparently, the pair had been business associates prior to Fustian’s bid for President.
“Mexicans, Penthesilians,” Fustian complained, “Does it matter?! We’re under attack, damn it!”
I sighed, “That is bound to happen when you kill one of their ambassadors during a peace summit.” It wasn’t until about ten seconds after I said it that I realized I had said it out loud.
Everyone’s eyes in the room were on me. So I decided it was my time to get up and speak.
If I was going to be court-martialed I was going to let them all know what exactly they had done.
“Mr. President, my fellow Officers, if I may explain the situation?” I offered.
“Please do, since you’re so versed on the subject, General,” President Fustian mocked.
Whether he remembered me as the guy who called him an idiot for his plan, I don’t know, but I was going to act as if he did remember me.
“Mr. President, to put it mildly: The Penthesilians are furious and they’re looking for justice or retribution,” I began.
“Justice? They attacked us!” President Fustian yelled.
“We cast the first stone, Mr. President. This is retaliation,” I explained.
“Retaliation or not,” President Fustian shouted, “I’m going to show them what happens when they fuck with us!”
I heaved a sigh, about to explain how that was not going to work with Zepherina at the spearhead of Ragna’s army.
Before I could, however, three men walked in.
Two were secret servicemen and one was a young soldier, a private, 1st class I believed.
“Mr. President,” the young private said meekly. The kid was shaken, couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
President Fustian saluted the young soldier, “Just the man I was looking for. I hate reading reports!” the President exclaimed, “Tell us, in your own words, what happened?”
I frowned, “Wait, this soldier was there?”
President Fustian gave a nod, “Yes, he’s how we found out about the attack on the Texas border! Keep up, General!”
My stomach dropped. Dr. Underhill withholding information from the President? Why? That video should have been more than enough to explain what we were up against.
The young soldier swallowed hard and gave us a nod. “I’ll… try my best to explain.”
…
Private 1st Class. David Madrid
It was a normal day, like any other at first.
I was on patrol at the top of the wall, just moving across the span between the guard towers, making my rounds like it was any other day.
I’m used to seeing caravans of drug cartels passing by the wall, sometimes to take potshots at us, which we’re happy to return. Most of the time they were buzzing by us, flipping us off, just to taunt us about the wall.
But I never expected a full-blown army!
I freaked and called my superiors!
Amassing in the distance was a huge number of soldiers. The soldiers were all wearing what looked like some kind of crazy mix of medieval and modern armor. They had different colored armor, almost all of them had guns.
I spotted a few with what I swear were bow and arrows, but not like anything I had ever seen before.
The army was amassing in huge troop movements. I even saw some military transport vehicles showing up behind the massive infantry.
That’s when a smaller group, made up of ten people, who I assumed were officers, moved out from the larger army.
I had no idea what they were doing. I rushed to the pillbox in the tower and I waited for instructions.
My superior officer, Master Sergeant Thompson, was already on the radio.
“I’ve got a literal army out here and I need some kind of air support and more troops!” the Master Sergeant shouted into his radio.
I swallowed hard, “Sir, orders, Sir?”
“Don’t fire until we get the order,” Master Sergeant Thompson ordered, “This might just be a training operation or they’re trying to get us to do something stupid like fire on them first!”
I took position looking out of the guard tower, my gun at the ready. But I didn’t want to be the first idiot to fire.
That’s when it happened!
A single soldier in black and purple armor just started sprinting like a marathon runner towards the wall.
The rest of the army didn’t budge as she just started running. She did not have any weapons on her, just her armor.
The crazy part was: she was running faster and faster! I didn’t think it was possible for someone to move that fast. Before I knew it, I watched as she got close enough for me to see her body.
Her armor had some crazy angel wings or something on the back as if it was made out of black metal feathers.
“Shoot the bitch!” Master Sergeant shouted.
I took aim and tried to fire, but I wasn’t sure if I missed or… well if my bullets just weren’t doing anything! I was not the only man firing at her, all around her I saw the ground show signs of bullets striking and a few large tracer rounds whizzed by her head.
That’s when I heard the first ‘Boom’.
She was running and, out of nowhere, she sped up and then there was this explosion around her!
That’s when I felt the guard tower shake like someone had detonated a bomb underneath us!
At first, there was nothing after we felt the second explosion. But then I heard the creaking from the wall and the whole pillbox I was in shifted.
I looked out and saw the walkway spanning the wall warp and twist as it began to buckle before the wall underneath it collapsed!
Worse yet the wall in the middle was crumbling and pulling the towers down with it!
“Brace!” The Master Sergeant shouted as we felt the entire tower begin to fall around us.
I grabbed hold of a gun mount on the window and held on for dear life as the entire tower toppled down onto the ground.
My ears were ringing. As the dust cleared I managed to crawl my way out of the window of the pillbox. It was a tight squeeze to make it through the window, but I managed to crawl through.
But when I got to my feet, I was knocked to the ground by a horde of soldiers stampeding across the rubble of the broken section of the wall.
I thought I was going to be trampled by the time one of the enemy soldiers grabbed me and hauled me up to my feet.
I looked up, and up, to see a massive soldier standing easily seven feet tall! I was even more shocked to see the soldier was a woman. She had dark skin, and upon seeing me, a predatory look came over her face.
“¡Mira, tengo un Americano de trofeo!” she shouted, and after a while, I was hurled over her shoulder as the invading army rushed through the broken wall. As I was manhandled I realized all the enemy soldiers around me were women!
I heard gunshots, but not many, and eventually I found myself being set down on the ground once more, my hands being tied up with a color-coded zip tie, along with a barcode on it.
The female soldier who had dropped me off just grinned wickedly at me with a knowing look, and said: “Después vamos jugar, Muchachito!” She laughed ominously as she walked away from me.
I looked around and saw other men tied up like me. Their weapons stripped from them, some were even in nothing but their underwear, others were simply left without their boots.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” I tried to ask the other soldiers who were tied up with me.
My fellow soldier who was wearing nothing but dog tags and his underwear turned to me, a look of terror in his eyes. He had a black eye, and a swollen cheek, “Those giant women? They force you to fight them in hand to hand combat…”
I frowned, “Then what?!”
He shuddered and turned away from me in shame.
I frantically looked around and nearly shit myself when I saw an absolute monster of a woman loom over me.
She had violet eyes and black hair and wore armor that seemed bulkier than the rest, as well as a long blue cape. Her left hand had a golden gauntlet on it.
“So, these are the P.O.Ws’?” she asked another large female soldier to her right.
The other soldier was almost as large as her and wore black and yellow armor, which contrasted the white and blue that the taller woman wore. “Yes, Empress. I’ve already spoken to the soldiers about the… traditional treatment.”
“Shameful behavior, but I suppose my new Mexican soldiers are rowdy, we’ll scold them later,” the giant winged woman in white and blue said as she gazed down at me, “Name and rank, Soldier!” she demanded.
I frowned, “I-I-”
The female soldier to the Empress’s right in black chastised me, “Speak up prisoner, you’re in the presence of Empress Ragna Misho! Show her some respect.”
“Captain Hill, that’s not needed, the boy is obviously terrified,” The Empress said as she looked down at me.
I steeled myself, “Private 1st Class David Madrid, Ma’am.”
“Empress,” Captain Hill sneered.
“Oh, he’s never addressed an Empress before, give the boy a pass Maddy,” The Empress said, smiling pitifully to me, “I’ve captured your entire unit and likely any other units who will respond. But I will ask you to do me one favor,” she said, “Would you mind?” she said with a disarmingly sweet smile.
I frowned, “I-if I say ‘No’ are you going to kill me?”
The Empress smiled at me with a shit-eating grin, “Oh, no little boy. Though the soldier who claimed you is going to be the one who is responsible for your care,” she warned, “So if you won’t do what I, The Empress, am asking of you, I will simply hand you over to the soldier that claimed you.”
I glanced to my right at the soldier who was stripped and beaten and I shivered as I looked at the soldier turning from me in shame. I could only imagine what was done to him that was so unmentionable after his beating by these women. I made up my mind right then and there. I turned to the Empress, “W-what do you want me to do?”
The Empress gave me a satisfied smile and picked me up and snapped the zip ties around my wrists like they were made from paper, “I want you to go and tell your ‘superiors’ everything that happened here today. Because I want them to understand who they are up against, what you have seen today. Tell them every last detail, do you understand me?” She said to me, still smiling to me with a soft, yet menacing smile, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders.
I just nodded nervously and with that, I was taken away.
…
General Scott Drake
We all turned to the young man as he finished his story.
“T-the only reason I’m free is because I agreed to tell you,” he frowned, “I-I’m sorry sir, but… but that’s all I know.”
“How long ago was this?” I asked.
Private Madrid looked up to me, “Sir, it was yesterday, Sir.”
President Fustian shouted, “Yesterday?! So why are we just hearing about it right now?!”
“Sir, I only arrived here today, Mr.President, Sir,” Private Madrid said nervously.
That’s when one of the secret service members rushed into the room, “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. President, but the State Governor of Texas just stated that he’s making an emergency announcement!”
General Schultz got up, turned on the TV in the room, and tuned it to a 24 hours news channel.
On the TV came a banner scrolling across the bottom which read, “EMERGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT FOLLOWING STRANGE 1 DAY SOCIAL MEDIA BLACK-OUT FROM TEXAS.”
We had been caught with our pants down.
I half expected Ragna to walk up to the podium and declare her victory.
But what happened was far, far more shocking.
The Governor of Texas, Richard Terry, walked up to the podium to the flash of multiple cameras and some chatter from the press.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” he said in a deep southern accent. He smiled, flashing too-white-teeth to the cameras. His hair was a salt-and-pepper shade of black, combed into a fairly well-styled quaff. His fifty-something-year-old face smiled as he waved at a few people here and there, blue eyes flashing charismatically to the cameras.
Governor Terry wore a grey suit and white shirt and a purple tie with a strange emblem at the center hanging from his neck. As he spoke, he did so as if knowing his speech would be referred to in the future.
It was well-rehearsed and unlikely written by the Governor.
“My fellow Texans," he winked to the camera, "And to everyone else,” he smiled while some folks laughed at his joke, “This has been a tumultuous time for mankind. The attacks on New York and the loss of Jerusalem, are painful events that will always live in infamy.”
President Fustian glared at the TV.
I turned to one of the secret servicemen, “Is this live? Can everyone see this?” I asked.
The young agent nodded to me, “Yessir.”
I turned back to the screen as Governor Terry continued his speech.
“Sadly, despite our best efforts, the Federal Government of the United States of America has not held the best interests of the great state of Texas at its heart,” Governor Terry shook his head with some theatrics. “As such, after meeting with the state senate, we have come to the unanimous conclusion that we, the Great State of Texas, will leave the Union.”
“What?!” President Fustian shouted, “But they love me in Texas!”
I sighed heavily as I looked on, my fist clenching on the back of my chair as I watched the Texas Governor turn on the US Government.
“But, sadly, Texas cannot make it on its own. A major caveat is that the National Guard cannot stand against the United States Military,” Governor Terry sighed shaking his head for dramatic effect, “It’s a mistake other southern states have made before.”
A few Generals were already stepping out of the room to make calls. Likely to engage their troops in the local area for either reconnaissance or for a counter-attack.
I was certain both endeavors were doomed to fail.
“The United States military has been the greatest force in the world, up until recently,” Governor Terry said, with a shake of his head, “But the monster Xyphiel's destruction of New York is a painful reminder of how that is a thing of the past.”
“We destroyed the damn cannon!” President Fustian shouted at the TV as if Governor Terry could hear him.
“We offered a second chance to the United States Military and allowed them to build their militarized border wall between Texas and the rapidly encroaching force of the Penthesilian armies,” Governor Terry gave a nod, “The task was simple: If the United States could properly defend our great State of Texas from invasion, then we would continue to push back and fight alongside our Union brothers.”
More camera snaps occurred from the press.
I knew where this was going. The POTUS had failed the Texas Governor's made-up challenge. The charade was put in place so Governor Terry would have an excuse for Texas to secede from the United States.
“Sadly, as of yesterday, Penthesil breached the walls the United States government wasted so much taxpayer money and manpower to construct… destroying it in a matter of minutes. Forces from the Penthesilian army stormed into our great state and captured every single Union soldier,” he shook his head, “the Penthesilian army suffered not a single casualty from this battle. The same cannot be said of the Union forces.”
I turned to Private Madrid, “Son, did we lose anyone in the assault?”
He frowned to me, “Sir, I was the only one to escape from the Guard Towers, sir!”
I heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to the screen. Zepherina was being driven to do things she’d never do before and I grew concerned. I had seen that angel do unspeakable feats of strength and she always operated with a measure of control and restraint. Now that her power was unleashed, what could stand in her way?
I didn’t blame Governor Terry for his next statement.
Governor Terry continued, “As such we have found a new Federal entity which will welcome Texas into its arms while allowing us our desired independence,” he smiled, “before y’all judge, allow me to clarify a few things for all of you!”
Cameras flashed as the press seethed in murmuring and questions.
“All Texas citizens will have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” Governor Terry said, rather pleased with himself, “And now Texas will also be able to provide, under our new Federal Government, the right for the unborn. That they sadly never had before!”
There was a commotion from the press. A female reporter shouted passionately over the rest, “Are you saying a woman’s right to choose has been violated?”
“No! Women’s rights have not been violated!” Governor Terry stated.
“How is that possible while making abortion illegal?!” the woman reporter shouted.
“I couldn’t go over all the details in a single press conference, but allow me to give someone the podium who can provide a better picture of the situation,” Governor Terry turned to the left of the stage, where Ragna soon walked out.
Ragna wore a modern take on what I would call a blue military tailcoat jacket. Beneath that was a pair of black slacks and with a blue seam of fabric running down the side. She wore black boots as well, her right hand clad in a white glove, her left in a golden gauntlet.
Ragna smiled, her black wings slipping out from behind the tailcoat as she addressed the cameras.
“May I introduce, Ragna Misho,” Governor Terry smiled and the pair shook hands as he looked up at the monstrous woman.
Ragna gave a chuckle, said something encouraging away from the microphone to Governor Terry, and made her way to the podium.
A hush fell over the room.
“Thank you, Governor Terry,” Ragna looked out over the crowd of reporters. “I am certain every last one of you is shocked and outright amazed at the reception we’ve received here in Texas. I have been in talks with the local government here for some time and I can say, the people of Texas have values very dear to my heart.”
A few cameras snapped, but the silence in the room was deafening.
“You ask about changes to abortion laws, yes? I’ll explain it simply,” Ragna said with a proud smile, “a medical procedure, where the fetus and mother can each survive the process while being separated,” Ragna glanced to Governor Terry, “A process which Governor Terry has told me is ‘having your cake and eating it too.’”
There was some chuckling from the press.
“And what other laws will change? Any other major differences you can highlight?” Another reporter’s voice shouted.
“Change is the name of our effort,” Ragna said with a proud grin, “First a shift in economic focus, primarily, one of manufacturing and entrepreneurship is paramount. I also wish to make clear that, even as we speak, Texas medical professionals are being provided the most advanced medical technology that I have to offer. Life-threatening ailments such as Cancer, Dementia, and life-long viral infections are relics of the past. At least, as far as Texas is concerned.”
There were murmurings now.
“That technology, I would like to add, is available to all Texans at no charge,” Ragna smiled wide.
“How is that possible?” shouted one reporter.
Ragna addressed them with a smile, “I’m sure your question is: ‘How can we still pay the Doctors’?”
“Yes,” the reporter said, sitting down.
“Our economy is vastly different from anything this planet has seen before. Your planet attempted communism to repeated failure, as well as attempts at neo-liberal capitalism, which constantly juggled between too little and too much government overreach,” Ragna shook her head, “Suffice to say, a new system must be implemented. One in which the My Federal Government handles basic human rights and the state handles day-to-day operations.”
“And how-” The reporter was cut-off.
“As such,” Ragna continued, “We have reached a new level of employment. Doctors are paid by Federal monies. Federal monies are obtained by taxation on goods and services, not your income. As such, the more you spend your money into the economy, the more money you pay in taxes,” she smiled, “This scale changes, of course, depending on what you’re buying. A gallon of milk, for example, will receive no tax upon it, but a high-end sports car will be taxed.”
There were more murmurings, “You mention medical technologies, but what other technologies do you bring with you?” another reporter asked, astounded.
Ragna smiled, “The use of oil resources has been optimized and much of the dangers removed. Not to mention I am certain there will be plenty of new jobs building new power plants which operate at much higher efficiency.”
There was a final question, “What of your association with ‘Xyphiel Misho’? The madman who destroyed New York?”
I frowned. That had to be a planted question, these all were planted questions. “This is on all our news networks?” I asked.
The agent nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“Shit,” I grumbled.
“What?” President Fustian asked me.
“She’s pushing her propaganda on us,” I shouted, “Can we interrupt this feed? She’s trying to sow dissension among the other states!”
President Fustian was clearly not understanding what I was telling him.
“She’s advertising her country to try and sell her leadership to other states, Sir!” I shouted, “She’s pushing a campaign ad on us!”
President Fustian turned to his chief of staff, “Can we cut the feed?!”
“We can use the Emergency Broadcast Service to do it,” a General announced.
“Get the FCC chair on the line now!” President Fustian shouted, “I don’t care if it’s a blue screen that says ‘Stand-by’, shut this bitch up!”
Before anything was shut down, however, I caught something.
“Xyphiel… yes…” Ragna shook her head, “My supposed brother? Well, he has parted ways with my vision. His crimes are his own to answer for and know this: He is public enemy number one of the nation of Penthesil. I will give anyone who brings him to me any reward they desire. Whatever earthly possessions or riches you want, are yours. This is not a false promise, I assure you,” Ragna said, a dire look in her eyes, “I want Xyphiel’s Head!”
The feed cut out with a blue box that reads ‘Please Stand-By for an Emergency Broadcast.’
President Fustian got to his feet, “Someone writes me up a speech and makes it as God damn patriotic as possible!” he shouted, “I am not going to get outdone by some eight-foot-tall dyke!”
The joint chiefs and President Fustian all left the room, leaving me, a few secret service members, and Private David Madrid behind.
I turned to Private Madrid, “Son, I gotta ask you, as you’ve seen them fight: What are our chances?”
Private Madrid frowned at me, “Sir I… I don’t know. I thought I shot that woman but… my bullets bounced off of her. It was… it wasn’t natural. None of this is natural. I feel like… like this is the end, sir.”
I heaved a sigh, “At ease Private, get debriefed,” I walked out of the room to see Dr. Underhill waiting for me.
Dr. Underhill saluted, “Well?”
“Why didn’t they know ahead of time, Vlad?” I asked, point-blank.
Dr. Underhill smiled at me, “Because, it wouldn’t change anything. What would be accomplished? The parties that needed to know, knew.”
“What country do these parties align with?” I asked.
“Scott,” Dr. Underhill began, “Do you think that Timothy forged alliances with only the United States when he knew Xyphiel and Ragna posed a global threat?”
“I know we had an escape plan in Red Wing,” I pointed out, “But I guess I assumed Timothy had more faith in us.”
Dr. Underhill shook his head, “We need to have faith in Him, not the other way around.”
I sighed, “Let's get protocol Red Wing underway while everyone is focused on Texas.”
Dr. Underhill gave me a nod and soon we were heading through the halls of the pentagon, making our way to the roof.
There, fueled and ready, was a transport helicopter.
I strapped in, along with Dr. Underhill, as it took off.
Deep down I felt like I was fleeing a battlefield. I looked down at the Pentagon as it grew further away from us, more concerned over whether I was making the right choice.
I shivered as I remembered when I sentenced a village to death for not letting us pass.
What would it have meant for my battalion if we didn’t go through? An extra ten hours of travel time? Was that worth the lives of so many villagers?
I had listened to Irfan and Fatima talk to me about some of the atrocities that US Soldiers had committed in their country. While we had gotten into heated debates, I found plenty of sick bastards doing terrible things under the banner of the United States flag.
I knew that at some point, I had been one of them.
Was it just the natural thing that happens when you place a gun in a man’s hand and give him control over life and death?
Is it easier to execute someone when they don’t speak your language or share your culture?
What can and cannot be morally ignored under the phrase: “I was just following orders”?
I remembered when I set foot inside the Guardian Temple.
Angels’ bodies were strewn all over the floor, just as I remembered that village. I stared at their decayed and dead faces and I swear I could hear the words of that child ringing in my head, sending an ice-cold shiver of death into my very soul.
“May God Uproot You.”
But what does that phrase mean? To kill me? No. Death isn’t something that happens when you uproot something.
When you uproot a plant you’re taking it from its home and you’re doing what the person wants to do with it.
You’re surrendering control to God. Allow him to uproot you and hopefully replant you in better soil.
That’s what I found in Timothy. Better soil.
Pure soil.
Timothy may be gone, but I know I had to continue. If not for my sake, then for God’s.
As we landed at a nearby military airport, I saw our long-range transport, a C-17 jet, getting loaded with a few vehicles.
Some other supplies were being loaded and it looked as if the plane was moments from take-off.
I headed towards it, saluting the soldiers who I passed, who stopped and returned the salute.
I got inside, looking to see a number of seats I was all too familiar with. A humvee and a large transport truck were being strapped down in the center.
“General Drake, Sir,” a familiar voice chimed in.
I turned to see Sergeant Demond Winter, or as his uniform showed, Major Demond Winter, saluting me.
“Major,” I laughed, “Congrats on the promotion.”
Demond nodded to me, “Sir, Thank you, sir.”
“I assume you know where we’re headed?” I asked.
Demond nodded to me, “Yessir, I do. Best to strap in,” he announced as he headed up towards the cockpit.
With some trepidation, I sat down and fastened myself into my seat. I wondered if the other soldiers knew that every soldier in this bird was going to turn traitor to their own country.
Dr. Underhill could tell I was feeling apprehensive, “It’s alright Scott. I understand.”
“The wife and kids?” I said, turning to him, “They're already out?”
“As of yesterday,” Dr. Underhill smiled, “I had figured, at worst? They get to think of it as a vacation before going home if you changed your mind.”
I sighed, “You knew I wouldn’t. You knew this was coming.”
Dr. Underhill nodded, “I did. She told me.”
“She?” I asked.
“Synchronous,” Dr. Underhill smiled, “You don’t think Timothy was the only one leading the Temple, do you?”
I shook my head, “Who’s leading it now?”
Dr. Underhill smiled as the cargo bay doors closed, “You’ll see.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling the plane start to taxi.
Soon enough, we were speeding down the runway, the jet engines at full blast.
I felt the plane lift off and at that moment, I could feel it.
The young man who I had killed? His words were now coming true.
God had uprooted me.

My mother-in-law is crazier than yours 🤣

Warning: It’s long and if you read it all you may lose your mind.
— Mother-in-law’s messages below —
I did not send you Simon Parks did I? Sorry I didn’t mean to send it to you it won’t happen again. You’ll see how crazy pretty soon. Love u
****** I love you to death but you ****** ******* and ****** are so in the dark I cannot even bring you up to speed or I’m going to try to. At least you could’ve really think what you wanna think and believe what you wanna believe and I will do the same. Love you so much promise I won’t send anymore to you didn’t mean to Just delete it. XO. Time will show us who is right and who was wrong that’s all I can say Don’t be concerned. Just watch what happens.
The Gods of Eden by William Bramley. Great read. Start there! XO Hold onto your hat
In the bill that the party you voted for just passed they demand disclosure within 120 days. Read that part of the bill and maybe you won’t be so surprised? Just throwing that out there you might wanna do some research on that. Love you guys
I will take my tinfoil hat off after you read that book and read that bill. Lol
https://www.wilx.com/2020/12/30/the-pentagon-has-180-days-to-disclose-ufo-information/
Time will tell. Hang onto your hat! Urantia? stitchin? Bible? Fiction. You can’t fix evil you don’t believe exist ****. If you think everything I believe is a conspiracy theory I really feel sorry for your lack of faith in me. You have no idea the network of people that I have met in the last 15 years and the information that I receive. You believe rumor mills garbage but you believe everything the ** brother say. As does ***. Unfortunately we are on two completely opposite ends of the political spectrum. You believe I’m brainwashed and I think The same. Time will show us who’s right and who’s wrong. Everything you were ever taught was a lie everything you ever believed it was a lie and you are going to quotebased on fact checking with the same corrupt system that tells you shit on television media and Internet what’s real and what’s not. I have learned to think for myself and do my own research and use my own discernment and I don’t believe any one source or anyone bought or any one thing. How are you could ever vote for Biden after the overwhelming evidence of money laundering with him his son his entire family they own an island called Waters Island right next to Epstein‘s island they’re heavily involved in pedophilia and they are part of the crowd. He has been there for 46 years and look at the mess our country is in but you’re gonna blame it all on Trump because you’re brainwashed to hate Trump. You hate trump so much that you would hand your country over to utter communism and it’s sickening. We are in a communist overthrow of our country and if you don’t believe me you are soon going to find out and sadly going to find out. Do you think your party is the party of tolerance. They watch cities burn by BLM and antifa funded by Soros at $38 an hour and burn cities down for literally months but antifa goes to the capital and instigates with a bunch of innocent Trump followers behind them and they are using this crisis like all false flags to make a mockery of our president like it’s his fault. They are closing down all social media for any anti-VAX or Trump supporter conservative opinion and they have totally silenced your entire family except for you and the *’s. Our entire family and everybody I know thinks the way I think. All of us are completely shut off social media and Internet and called conspiracy theories by the main stream mockingbird propaganda media that is the entire corrupt legislature of the United States supporting it and then supporting them. Your belief and your hate for Trump or enough for you to watch your Country turn socialist and then communist as every country in the world that was ever socialist resulted in communism and watch your family go to concentration camps for their beliefs and not vaccination which are now bio weapons. Get your flu shots get your flu shots so that your 85% more likely to test positive for Covid and 55% more likely to contract Covid and get your Covid vaccine which is not even a vaccine but change is the human cell to be a pathogen creator based on four fantastic educated scientist that I listen to in addition to millions more that are now losing their medical careers for speaking up after all we are already communist. They are silencing opposition they are shutting down the ability for your president to speak in a country called the US. Every person that our entire family and everybody I listen to have been taken off the Internet. I don’t care how much you hate trump how you could ever even vote for Biden know when their agenda and his senility and his criminal background scares the living shit out of me and I’m concerned. Chyna released on the Friday before the election Biden tapes of Hunter raping a 10 year old but I saw personally and if you think I’m making that up you’re wrong they took those sites down the Friday before the election because that would’ve destroyed the Biden election. This is war for real and you are in the dark and you have no clue what’s going on because you’re so entrenched in your beliefs and you only listen to those that in force your beliefs. You can say I do the same but I have so much information from so many different resources and sources and everyone I know is not on Biden‘s side. Nancy Pelosi‘s laptopWas just taken from the Capital in a sting operation and she had dirty bombs on her laptop and she had the request for 500,000 Chinese to come in Long Beach Naval shipyard to take down Trump. The reason for the Pakistan black out was because of General Electric and the Dems supported a sale in the billions of General Electric to the Chinese and all of our military secrets were given to them in 2013 by the person you had your arm around in 2008 called Obama. Obama transferred $400 million through the Vatican in Italy through a satellite called Leonardo are responsible for the voter fraud in the live changing of the votes from Trump to Biden. Biden couldn’t get 12 people in the hall during his campaign trail and there were 3 million people in Washington on 6 January before antifa and BLM who were escorted by Washington police on two buses and people I know personally watch them get off the buses and they knew instantly they were antifa. Two buses went from **’s neighborhood in Pennsylvania and I know so many people personally that were there that testified to me personally that antifa stirred up the shit. Four of the people that died died of seizures and heart attacks and not of violence. The only violent acts were a girl shot in cold blood by someone who planned it for a false flag for the purpose that you were witnessing and someone got hit by a fire sting wisher. There are antifa that are now testifying and whistle blowingThat were paid $38 an hour to be there. Soros has done color revolutions that you are a sucker for in more countries and you can Shake a stick at and succeeded and overthrowing those countries and that is what they are doing here and you were falling for it hook line and sinker. I am just appointed in your discernment and your research and I don’t know where you get your information but your hate for Trump has blinded you. You were on the wrong side of history and time will show you where you’ll get it in your next go around. I love you to death you’re disappointed in my beliefs and I’m disappointed in yours but I don’t love you any less
If I sent you everything I knew you would I feel be way more on our page but I don’t bother because I know better. Your indoctrinated your hate for Trump has blinded you and your country is over if Trump does it pull this out of the sand. You will watch your parents go to concentration camps under forced vaccine laws like New York bill 416. Take a look at that. And HR bill 6666 Federal
You don’t think Satan is alive and well after you read those bills they will change your mind trust me
We physically stopped a pandemic that they tried to start in 2008 and people died in that conflict. I lived it with dad as my witness and it was horrific. What they’re doing with this Covid shit that you believe which is a whole other discussion-that’s exactly what they were attempting to start in 2008 and we physically stopped them exposed to their plan and they went crawling back in their holes. Your disbelief of my testimony breaks my heart and you have no idea what dad and I live through. You drove across country because of what we said and it was as real as I am sitting here but we stopped it we literally stopped it. They regrouped and came back with Covid which is exactly what they were trying to do then I was there you weren’t. I went to the Townhall meetings with all the officials and all the AP routers cameras behind me with all the same bullshit they did with this Covid plandemic. I repeat plan Demic. Your loving making six digits sitting at home working but you don’t understand the children that are getting mentally ill committing suicide getting bacterial pneumonia from wearing masks and going along with this horseshit and you were going along with it just like the rest of the world because it benefits you. Everyone is doing selective quarantine and quarantining when they want to and quarantine when they don’t when it gets him out of doing things they don’t want to do. It’s disgusting it’s control it’s communism and you fall for it as ****** does hook line and sinker and it’s disgusting. ****** hasn’t seen her granddaughter in a year and my mother hasn’t left her house and he’s getting dementia from being so cooped up. People are dying alone without someone holding their hand in their last hours and we can’t even have funerals for people we just lost. Our economy is destroyed there are more homeless and starving people than we have ever seen in US history and everybody just keeps wearing those masks and jokes that I don’t even mind wearing them I’m kind of getting used to it. I could throw up. Stay home keep wearing your mask keep believing the bullshit keep believing the brainwashing and the control and who is behind COVID-19 and it’s a scape in a Wuhan lab the Bill and Melinda Gates corporation and FauciAnd I’m sure that’s just conspiracy theory to
You are experiencing the great awakening and you’re gonna wake up whether you like it or not. And I will be there when you do
The entire false flag at the Capital and Washington on January 6 was a democratic ploy just like the Russian collusion horseshit the impeachment horseshit and antifa BLM horseshit. Trump won in a landslide 80 to 120,000,000 people voted for him and believe it or not California was red and had 10 million votes missing. Pelosi and her crowd up and running your state for 40 years and they had their Vineyard running when everybody else was losing their homes and you like the guy. We’ll talk about brainwashing Sunday and it isn’t me
I said my piece you said yours no more politics how’s the weather?
— My wife’s responses below —
We shall see if the Simon Parkes “mother” green alien comes down through the black hole portal to communicate to all of us through telepathy about how a hair dryer will save us all from covid-19 that was invented in a private lab surrounded by tinfoil wearing scientists in China by the Clinton Foundation where they planned it in the basement of a pizza restaurant in Washington DC with the help of reptilian crisis actors for every major mass shooting of the past century.🤣
The world was supposed to end a million times since you got yourself brainwashed. And the Illuminati qanon was supposed to arrest hillary Clinton and joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi everyday since 2016. 🤷‍♀️
I didn’t know you were a UFO expert too?! 👏🏽
Save yourself. I don’t know how but I pray for you everyday. And I’m not religious.
I love you too ❤️
I could go on and on about how crazy the stuff you believe in is… but it’s a waste of my time. Literally everything you said is inaccurate and sincerely insane.
You are aligning yourself with a domestic terrorist organization and a narcissistic insane president who just tried to overthrow our democratic government. Donald Trump is a facist white supremacy terrorist and the fact that you don’t know that is sad and embarrassing. Trump lost the election. Obviously and clearly.
Your grip on reality hasn’t been the same since 2001 - and I highly recommend seeing a therapist to help you with your PTSD that has snowballed into delusions.
Everything is a false flag to you. Everything involved crisis actors. You are unhinged in your lack of critical thinking.
You are obsessed with fighting with people and you are even more obsessed with trying to pull people into your cult.
I’ve asked you for over 12 years to stop sending me your crazy shit so that I could at least pretend I could have a relationship with you… but you always have and always will put your cult over your family - you simply cannot help but assault everyone who you have an email address or phone number for - I’m embarrassed to think of the people who receive your emails and texts.
You sit at home in your government paid for housing (either through your government pension or 9/11 payout) while you vote for a party that tries to strip away healthcare from millions of innocent children and families who need it. You sit at home in a town of 819 people during a pandemic while you try to judge people who live in major cities who don’t want to get a deadly pandemic disease. Just as you tried to recruit people to not pay their taxes while you went ahead and paid yours. That’s something you and Donald Trump share in common. Cowards. Always trying to get other people to do your dirty work for you.
You vote for a party that tries to strip rights away from your daughter. You vote for a party that actively destroys this country - socially, economically, environmentally, educationally, and empathetically every single day. You vote for a party that didn’t want to renew funding for 9/11 victims. You vote for a racist party. You are a pawn in their white supremacy game.
Don’t write to me telling me that I enjoy kids getting sick. You’re despicable.
I don’t like to get personal. But since you did. I figured it was fair game. 😊
The weather here has been pretty nice! 49 tonight - but it will be in the high 60s this week! Just another reason why I love California.

Don’t Tempt Fate 1 - The Search

Part 2 Part 3

‘Is that a police dog?’
I was in the passenger seat of the ambulance, my booted feet up on the dashboard and the rubbish old laptop we use for patient medical records on my knees. I’d finished the case sheet for our last patient, a man panicking from a spider bite we’d calmed down and left at home. I’d signed it with the computer pen that produced an illegible scrawl on the screen. Now I was trying to make sure the device would save and upload correctly to the database. I hit the button and looked up, following my partner’s pointing finger.
It was about three in the morning. A dark, delirious time of night. That time of night that felt like the world had settled into a dearth of activity, where only us idiots that chose to work in emergency services bothered to remain awake – and for us, that was often rather against our will.
I squinted through the darkness. I need glasses to see far, but even if I did stick them on my face I’d still be squinting. Jet-lagged by night shift produces its own blurry vision.
‘Where?’ I asked. Ben’s pointing finger was indicating a wooden fence. It wasn’t helpful.
‘Just there,’ he said, reiterating the direction with a re-point of his finger.
There was nothing there. I checked the computer screen. It didn’t seem to have stuffed up.
‘You’re seeing things, mate,’ I said. ‘Sleep-deprived delusions. You need a kip.’
‘Yeah, probably,’ he said. He’d been yawning for thirty minutes straight. It had been a lot of yawning, clocking in at approximately one yawn a minute. He glanced at the laptop I was shutting. ‘You done?’
‘Yup. All good.’
‘Sweet.’
We’d parked out the front of Beamish Ambulance Rest Base. Built in the sixties, or perhaps earlier, it was a defunct ambulance station with only a male bathroom – now labelled “unisex” – and it was tiny. The ambulances it was built for had been far smaller than the ones we drive today. Today, we don’t bother to park inside the garage. It’s too much of a pain to reverse into the narrow bays between pillars. Behind the lattice metal roller doors was a dark and empty garage, only a plastic table and two chairs set up in one corner, presumably for those old-school paramedics who still enjoyed a smoke – no one else ever used it.
I shoved my door open and hopped down onto the ground below, rubbish old laptop under my arm. The things tended to fuck up on you more often if you didn’t have them charged, so, out of semi-superstitious dedication, I always made sure to return them to their charge ports in the back of the ambulance.
There was a motion-activated outdoor light out the front of the Rest Base. It switched off with a quiet but audible click as I hopped back out. I hauled the door shut and looked around for Ben. Funny that he’d be standing still for long enough that the light would decide to turn off. He had gotten out of the ambulance. I’d heard the driver-side door shut while I was clicking the laptop back in place.
No Ben. I moved around to the front of the ambulance, looking for him. The light didn’t switch back on with my motion. Faulty. It wasn’t surprising. The maintenance for these old stations was typically lacking.
‘Ben?’
I spotted him a second after I’d called to him. He was paused not far from the driver’s side door, watching something over the road.
‘Wonder what they’re looking for,’ he mused to me.
I followed his eyeline. Then turned a bemused expression on him.
‘I know I’m blind,’ I began, coaxing, ‘but I do think you’re imagin–‘
Ben had tipped his head, indicating across the road.
I did see it then. Two black-clad police men, hard to spot in the dark, their footsteps oddly silent in the quiet, meandering out of the front of the suburban house opposite. Trotting up behind them came a German Shepherd: a proper police dog. The dog was leashed by an official-looking harness, and when one of the men indicated a section of hedge, the dog dutifully gave it a sniff.
‘Right…’ I made a face. We were at the Rest Base for a rare break. We were both aching for a nap. ‘Hope they don’t find the bloke,’ I confided to Ben. ‘I do not want to deal with a dog mauling tonight.’
‘Yeah…’ Ben said distractedly. ‘It’s been a quiet night. Reckon we’ll be all right.’ He gave one of the cops a nod. Whether the cop had seen or not, he didn’t respond.
We stood there, curious, for a couple minutes longer, watching on as the police led the dog across the road to the house next to the Rest Base. No lights switched on for them either, and they didn’t acknowledge us with even a brief wave. Normally, police and ambulance have a good working relationship. We back them up on welfare checks, they back us up when our patient wants to hit us. I’ve met the majority of the cops in our area, and generally think more highly of that group than I do the cops in other parts of the city. We share waves from behind windscreens when we pass each other on the streets. These cops didn’t seem to think much of the cordial wave etiquette.
‘Do dog squads work as part of the regular police in the area?’ Ben asked.
I shrugged, yawned, and gave up on my curiosity, leading the way to the code-locked door out the front of the old station. Our ambulance decided it was time to switch its lights off two numbers into punching the code. Typical. In the silent dark I squatted before the code and tried to make out the numbers. The clicks of the keys depressing were the only sound until Ben thumped his shoulder up against the roller door beside me, making a loud clanging that had me glaring up at him.
He grinned back at me and I clicked the last number in. Not wanting to fight with the invisible keypad again, I was relieved when the handle depressed and the door into the garage opened.
Empty, concrete and brick. There was a little step one learned to avoid tripping on halfway to the door that led into the interior of the old station. That door too was locked by a keypad.
‘Reckon you could give me some light?’ I asked Ben.
‘Nah,’ he responded. ‘You should know it by feel by now.’
‘Then you do it.’
He snickered, but gave in. By the light of a dim pupil torch, I got the second door unlocked.
We didn’t bother to turn on any of the lights inside the station. Half asleep, crashing was the priority, and we could do that by the faint glow that came through several open windows. The main room of the RB was a kitchenette with a dining table shoved up against the wall. Through an archway to the right were a couple tables with computers on them, set up as a communal office. To the left and one step down was a stubby corridor that allowed access to that unisex bathroom and a room for lounging.
Two couches to snooze on, and two recliners if ever there was a second crew at the RB at the same time. We grabbed hospital blankets and pillows from the cache of them in the cupboard, and tucked ourselves in. Above me, the vertical blinds over the long stretch of windows clattered quietly against each other at wisps of breeze. Ben’s boots were just visible, left on the floor beside the couch, in what little light the outside had to let in between the blinds.
I shut my eyes, relieving their graininess, and got comfortable. Ben did the same on the other side of the room. I heard him shuffle over onto his side. He settled after that. The blanket I’d yanked over myself had forgotten my socked feet. They grew cold as I tried to ignore them.
One thing I should point out about paramedics: we are a little superstitious. I have theories as to why. We talk about working in an “uncontrolled environment”, and that’s more true than you realise when you’re just studying for the job. No one in emergency gets to choose their patients, and we all work long shifts. We also don’t get to choose our partners, nor whether we finish on time; we work wherever and whenever we’re needed, tramping through a hoarder’s house or in the middle of a sports field while people run and kick balls around us; keep irregular and changing hours; duck unexpected swings from eighty year old patients with dementia; have our equipment crap out on us just when we need it; have patients that have managed to become unconscious between a toilet and shower, covered in diarrhoea, in the tiniest bathroom possible; have one-second warnings before we get vomited on; never know whether we’ll get breaks and, if we do, how long they’ll last; deal with hot, cold, and low light; and always know, with the number of unfamiliar places we walk into, that there’s always a chance we’ll get stabbed.
I’ve even managed to lose an ambulance. You wouldn’t think that possible, being that it’s a flashing Christmas tree on wheels, but there I was, standing on the kerb, wanting to ask a passer-by whether they’ve seen my car – you know, the big colourful thing with “Emergency Ambulance” written on it. But that’s an embarrassing story for another time.
Not that we don’t like our jobs. Don’t get me wrong. We choose this because we’re a little bonkers and the wild-west and adrenaline is attractive. And we like coming in and dealing with a problem people need our help with. I love knowing that my arrival can calm people down. I’ll deal with the shit so you can feel better. That’s my job. Have your blood pressure drop 20 millimetres of mercury, and I’m happy (Sometimes. Other times that’s bad. Don’t do that then.).
But it makes a lot of us a little superstitious. We’ll have a day of crazy jobs, where we’re still scratching our heads over it, and we’ll wonder if it’s a full moon. It usually isn’t, so we’ll look for another answer. Remark that it’s been a quiet day? You arsehole. Cardinal rule of ambulance: don’t tempt fate. Fate is a bitch. You think it’s been an easy day? You say aloud that you reckon you’ll finish on time? BAM! That’s when you get the lady who’s 20 weeks pregnant and goes into labour on you without warning in the back of the ambulance when you’re the only one there and fuck, that kid will look like they have a chance of living before they die in your hands.
Don’t. Tempt. Fate.
It’s our attempt to make sense of an uncontrollable job, I think. To take a little bit of the power of random events into our own hands.
Ben doesn’t believe in tempting fate. He is a-superstitious. Maybe he hasn’t had a 20-week foetus die in his hands, I don’t know. Two weeks of stress leave and a consult with the chief shrink will make you never say that shit again.
It’s been a quiet night. Reckon we’ll be all right. What Ben had said. That’s what I was thinking of as I was supposed to be getting some sleep in the disappearing time before the dreaded telephone rang to give us another job. I wasn’t that bothered: I said I was only a bit superstitious. But if we got something truly dreadful tonight I would let him know it was his fault.
Disgruntled, I kicked the blanket down, trying to get it over my cold feet. It didn’t really work, and I couldn’t be arsed to sit up and fix it. So I rolled over onto my side, squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to focus on breathing calmly and slowly.
Fear over the telephone ringing overtook superstition. It was a developed anxiety, and it was an enemy of sleep. I’ve heard the same ringtone outside of work once. It was someone’s mobile in a lift and my heart rate went from sixty to a hundred and twenty in a split second. I had to chill myself out silently in the back corner.
It could ring now, or it could ring in two hours, I told myself. No need to dread it.
I went back to breathing slowly and calmly. Across the room, Ben had started snoring softly. That break to the silence was comforting. Silence felt like it was just waiting to be broken by a shrill ring.
It started to work. My consciousness grew comfortably foggy and my eyelids heavy. I sunk into a soft and warm netherworld with gratitude. Take that telephone. You don’t have power over me.
But Beamish RB didn’t stick to the sounds of Ben snoring in the quiet, and it wasn’t the telephone that had my heart rate at one-twenty and my eyes shooting open.
Three footsteps along the carpet of the stubby corridor, then one step up onto the bubbled linoleum of the kitchenette. Right outside the door to the lounge then moving further away.
I didn’t hear where the steps went after that. I’d sat bolt upright. There was nothing at the open door to the lounge: no shadow, no nothing.
Ben was still right-lateral on the sofa opposite, snoring quietly with his face to the backrest. So… not him then.
It was always possible a second crew had arrived on station and I’d just missed them keying themselves in through the doors during my sleepy torpor. Yet it didn’t happen often, and next to never on night shift. One crew to cover the area, that’s all that was needed in Beamish.
But I wasn’t hearing anything else. Those steps, and now… nothing. No sitting in an office chair. No opening the door back into the garage. No refilling water bottles at the tap or rummaging inside the fridge for something edible forgotten there. The station was only small, and it had gone back to silence decorated by Ben’s snores and the quiet smacking of vertical blinds.
Hypnagogic hallucinations: where your half-dreaming mind conjures sights and sounds that don’t exist. They happened. I knew they happened, because I’d experienced them here and there. Back in my exhausted first few months on the job I’d sat straight upright in bed, sure I’d heard the entire front window of my flat shatter into a million pieces on the floor. It hadn’t. Nothing at all had shattered. I’d been imagining it.
That was one logical thought. Another semi-logical thought that ran through my head was that if there was someone in the station, and I just went back to sleep, I could be stabbed where I lay. That was something… well, I’d just really rather not, honestly.
And I probably wouldn’t fall back asleep until I’d ascertained that there was, indeed, no other person in the station with Ben and me.
I slipped out from under the blanket, skirted my boots, and padded to the lounge room door in my socks. Poking my head out, I could see the stubby corridor, and I could see into most of the kitchenette and some of the communal office. My eyes had adjusted well. The low light didn’t hide all of the corners from me, but what shadowed corners I couldn’t see were too small to hide a person.
Keeping quiet so as not to wake Ben, I continued on into the kitchenette, had a look around, then into the office. Nothing. No one was there. And those rooms didn’t lead anywhere else.
Cloying unknown had risen up behind my back. I swivelled around, my socks squeaking on the linoleum, and stared at the space that had been behind me. Nothing. No one was there.
You’re freaking out, Cassie, I told myself. You shouldn’t have had that coffee at one in the morning. You’ve cursed yourself to half-conscious rests.
I made a fair point. You might believe you’ve developed a high caffeine tolerance, but don’t test it if you want to sleep.
With slightly more confidence, I made my way back to the corridor, stepping down onto the carpet. I hadn’t checked the bathroom yet, and eyed it with a desire to not. There was no one there. I’d imagined it.
But there might be.
Scrunching up my face, I looked into the loo. No one. I turned away, only to remember there were a lot of dark nooks and crannies available for hiding in there.
For fucks sake!
But I’d grabbed my pupil torch out of a pocket and had it ready like a cop’s flashlight in the movies. The two stalls were empty, as was the crack-tiled area with the stained pedestal sink. I felt my shoulder prickle, like goose bumps could occur just on the shoulder that faced the shadowed shower.
Slowly, I rounded on the shower, tiny pupil torch held aloft. Tiled half-walls and a shower curtain, slid most of the way aside, hid the inside from view. It occurred to me that a squatter would like Beamish RB. Bathroom, shower, fridge, comfy couches… an overworked ambulance service that only rarely stopped by. I think the old station had even kept its hot water. That hadn’t broken yet, from that one time I’d scalded my hands stupidly at the sink. And this wasn’t the best neighbourhood in the world.
The bathroom was dark. The shower darker. If there was someone in that shower, I decided, I’d scream. Ben would hear. It’d be two against one.
I’m a woman. But I’m hardly a small woman. I’m tall, rarely harassed by sleazy wankers, and reasonably convinced I’d both scream and fight like a wildcat if I had to. And I have had to. I talk about the possibility of being stabbed because I have come face-to-face with that. I’ve been raced at by a delirious woman with a fat carving knife. My reaction: I booted her in the chest, chucked my kit – complete with oxygen tank – at her, and booked it out of that house. I’m not ashamed to say I hid inside the ambulance until the police arrived. My work day will not include being stabbed.
With the hand not gripping my paltry torch, I fumbled one of my many pockets open and grabbed out my trauma shears. Admittedly, they were designed to cut things without hurting people, but I was pretty bloody sure I could make them hurt someone.
Quietly, I approached that damn shower. Armed. Ready with a scream. It stared back at me like a dark hole of potential, screened with brittle plastic curtains.
Like someone a lot braver than I felt, I pounced, shining my light in one side of the shower. Showerhead, taps, rusty drain. The showerhead had a drip of water dangling from it. Good. I swung my torch around to see the other side, and only just managed to stifle a loud shriek.
Foot. There was a foot.
Inside a bucket.
But not a person. I’d flicked the light up to where a person would be if the foot belonged to them. No person. Just that foot. And a few brooms and mops.
I took two steps backwards, remembered horror movies that placed the attacker right behind you, and swung around, torch raised high and shears ready for hacking.
Just the narrow, empty corridor that fed the stalls. Another few steps and I’d checked both stalls again, as well as the stubby hallway outside.
My eyes tingled with the rise of terrified tears. If there was a foot in that bucket, I’d have to get everyone in. I’d yank Ben over first, though. Just in case I was going nuts and was imagining it.
On a thought inspired by movies one should never watch before bed, I shone my light up to the ceiling above the shower. Just in case there was someone… hanging there, maybe. Maybe they’d lost a foot. Bloody hell… if there was a butchery of a murder in an RB…
Just the shadowed outline of one of those portals you used to get into the roof space. And beside it a grungy-looking stain in the ceiling plaster.
Back to that foot. I wasn’t wholly certain I’d actually seen a foot. It would be such a crazy thing to have in a shower-cum-cleaning supply stash.
You don’t live in the movies, Cassy. You live in a real world. How many times have you seen a dismembered foot?
Only once. And that hadn’t been in a shower. That had been on train tracks.
I hurried back to the shower, stuck my head and torch in, and looked.
Foot… or… not a foot.
A cleaning rag and a dustpan handle.
I shone my light around again, searching, but the truth was clear: there was no dismembered foot.
I sagged against the tiled wall. This was the problem with using a pupil torch as a light source. If I shone it at the right angle, the rag and handle did look like a human foot. I let the little metal trigger go, the light on my pupil torch winking out.
I’d wasted enough time. There was no one there. Either I’d imagined the sounds, or it was someone walking outside, and it just sounded like they were inside the RB. I headed back to my sofa, trying to tell myself I hadn’t really been scared, I’d just been making sure I’d be all right if I fell asleep.
Ben was still snoring. He’d better have been asleep through all of that. I had no desire to try to justify myself if he’d heard me scuttling about like a terrified ferret.
This time when I tucked myself back in, I made sure to cover my feet. Cold feet after that wouldn’t warm up my chilled spine.
The whole place was secure. The door to the garage was shut properly. No one was there.
Except…
Wide awake, I couldn’t help looking over. There were two doors in Beamish RB I’d never seen open. One was at the end of the stubby corridor. The other was right there, across from my sofa.
I’d been here enough times, never once seeing beyond those doors, to lose curiosity about what was behind them. Now I wanted to know.
Brrrrring…Brrrrriiinnngg…Brrrrring…
Ben groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket up over his head. Far less sleepy, I got myself up and hurried over to the phone.
‘Beamish, Cassie speaking.’
‘Hey Cassie, it’s Fiona,’ the voice on the other end of the line chirruped, far too alert for this time of night. ‘Sorry to break your sleep, but you’ve got a teenager threatening suicide at the police station.’
I blinked.
‘I don’t want to deal with that,’ I told Fiona, quite honestly.
‘Lemme see…’ said Fiona. She hummed and I imagined her scrolling through an invented backlog of cases. ‘I’ve also got a sixty-six year old woman over in Killerny who thinks she’s lost a string from her urethra… Not sure why she reckons she needs one there, but–‘
‘I don’t even want to know how you came up with that on the spot,’ I deadpanned as Fiona snickered to herself. ‘I’ll take the first one.’
‘Had a similar job the other day,’ the dispatcher confided conspiratorially. ‘Someone said something about kidney stents, but I don’t know if that’s what it was about. This lady also had concerns about lodged teabags, so it sounded more homemade than that. Anyway,’ Fiona went on, ‘hope this’ll be your last for the night! I’ll try to get you home on time!’
I thanked her earnestly and hung up. Ben was tugging on his boots with groggy reluctance.
‘What’ve we got?’ he asked.
‘Kid who told the cops he was suicidal.’
‘Well don’t do that,’ Ben said flatly.
Suicidal can go one of three ways: you actually have to work hard to stop them doing it; they’re forthcoming and compliant, ready to tell you anything; or they tell you to fuck off and you get no further than that. The kid, thankfully, was of the second variety. We may sound flippant about it, but I felt for that kid. His life was shit. And he wasn’t a bad kid. He even called me “ma’am”, which made me realise that, somehow, I was one of the grown-ups here. Wonder how much trust he’d have had in me if I told him I’d just been dancing around a station threatening to kill shadow feet with a pair of trauma shears just a half hour before.
Cut his neck with his mother’s cleaver, was the kid’s answer as to how he’d planned to kill himself that night. Not an easy one to do, but it does happen.
‘You’ve done a stupid thing today,’ the sergeant told the kid as we were readying to leave. ‘Try to make it into a useful night, yeah? Talk to the psychologist. No shit,’ he warned. ‘Just get the help you need.’
The kid was in on break and enter. He nodded mutely.
‘Was this what the dog was for?’ I asked the sergeant, the kid having followed Ben out to the ambulance.
The sergeant’s eyes were bloodshot. They were open wide, serious-like, and glistened in the overhead lights as they swivelled over to look at me. He shrugged.
‘I donno. Where was the dog?’
‘Outside the old Beamish ambulance station.’
The sergeant shrugged again. I didn’t quite believe it. But I was only curious. I had no right to be in the know.
‘I’ve got no idea about that,’ he said. He nodded after the kid. ‘He’s lucky he met no dog.’
We didn’t get a dog mauling job that night. In fact, as I thought about it on the drive home, I hadn’t even heard the dog once. No barking. Maybe police dogs didn’t do that, but I don’t think I heard the cops and the dog walk past the front of the station. I don’t even remember them making a sound while we were watching them.
I can be a bit of a drinker. I told myself it was because I was finally off shift for a few days. That’s why I knocked back a total of three cocktails over my MacDonald’s breakfast. In truth, it was because in the solitary quiet of my apartment dining room, I thought of knives, bloodshot eyeballs, and severed feet in dark buckets. And those images would only get worse if I lay down and shut my eyes for a sleep. Careful breathing could help to some degree. A cocktail followed by two chaser cocktails was better.
Dear reader: that is not medical advice. Please do not take it as such.

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Migration in Great Britain
The great exodus
Britain's population has shrunk for the first time in decades. Many people are moving back to their EU home countries. Corona is just one reason.
At the beginning of January, when Luigi D'Onofrio returned to Italy, he had not felt at home in the UK for a long time. Six years earlier he had moved to London, when it was different: "Migrants like me felt that we were part of this society. We had good jobs and felt welcome."

D'Onofrio, 42, worked as a nurse in a London hospital, the health authorities had recruited him directly from his home country - as they do thousands of EU citizens every year. "But then came the Brexit, and then came the pandemic," says D'Onofrio via Zoom from Milan. "After the Brexit vote, which was a real shock for us, the NHS health service continued to treat us with respect and appreciation. But the government made us feel we were only here as guests. We were merely tolerated because we had skills that were needed."

The pandemic finally gave the impetus to go home. A Milan hospital offered D'Onofrio a permanent contract and he didn't hesitate for a minute. He resigned in London. "All these countries in southern Europe - Italy, Portugal, Spain, Greece - are currently bringing back their health workers. They say, 'You're a nurse? Come on, we'll take you. The working conditions are much better now.'" In the same week that D'Onofrio quit, five of his EU colleagues from the same London hospital also gave up their jobs to leave.

Almost 700,000 people have left London

D'Onofrio and his colleagues are part of an exodus Britain has been experiencing since the Corona crisis. Tens of thousands of EU citizens who had lived in the country for years have moved away, many for good. So huge is the emigration movement that the resident population in Britain has shrunk for the first time since the Second World War.

Already, in the years between the Brexit referendum and the outbreak of the pandemic, the number of EU migrants fell sharply: according to figures from Oxford University's Migration Observatory, net migration of EU citizens fell by 77 per cent between 2015 and 2019, to 50,000. Some of this outflow was offset by higher numbers of overseas immigrants, but overall migration fell from 331,000 to around 270,000 in that period.

The pandemic has accelerated this trend. Because accurate statistics are not yet available, academics Jonathan Portes and Michael O'Connor of the Economic Statistics Centre of Excellence in London looked at Labour Force Survey figures and compared them with other surveys - and they came to a startling conclusion: The British population has become smaller by an estimated 1.3 million. The development in London is particularly glaring: almost 700,000 people have moved out of the metropolis.

Jonathan Portes emphasises on the phone that this is only an estimate, not a definitive analysis. "But it's clear that Britain has seen a significant exodus during the pandemic - particularly London, which has become smaller for the first time in decades." There are several reasons why the trend has been felt particularly strongly in the capital. "There are more migrants in London than anywhere else, both from the EU and overseas," says Portes. "Many have links to their countries of origin and were able to return somewhere during the crisis."

"Brexit poses a risk"

Moreover, the city was hit harder by the pandemic than other parts of the country, not only in terms of the health crisis: "London is particularly reliant on tourism, the cultural industry and the service sector, where customer contact is necessary. And finally, there are many sectors here where many migrants work." For example, in the café and sandwich chain Pret A Manger, which can be found on almost every corner in central London, about two-thirds of the workforce is made up of EU migrants. In the pandemic, the company has permanently closed a third of its branches and more than 3,000 employees have been laid off.

A population decline in London would be a caesura: since the beginning of the nineties, the metropolis has grown rapidly, from less than seven to almost nine million inhabitants before the Corona crisis. The boom is also due to the hundreds of thousands of immigrants who have settled here. Between 2005 and 2015, the number of EU citizens in London doubled, and in 2018 their number was estimated at over one million. Before the Corona crisis, it was predicted that London would grow to 10 million inhabitants within ten years.
However, it is not yet possible to assess whether the consequences of the Covid crisis will be permanent or whether EU citizens will return when the health crisis subsides. This is where Brexit comes into play, as there has been no free movement of persons for a month. "Brexit poses a risk," says Portes. "EU citizens who have been granted the permanent right to stay could actually return to the UK without any problems. But others have fallen through the cracks and missed out on securing that status - for them, returning will be difficult."
Tens of thousands of EU immigrants could become illegals
Maike Bohn is all too aware of this danger. She is co-founder of the3million campaign, which campaigns for the rights of EU citizens after Brexit. "We are currently being contacted by many people who are desperately trying to get back to the UK - people who will forfeit their right to stay if they are not in the country," says Bohn. This is because those who first have what is known as pre-settled status, or provisional right to stay, are allowed to leave the UK for a maximum of six months to avoid losing their entitlement to permanent settled status. "This means that if the government doesn't relent because of the Corona crisis, then countless people will be denied the right to stay when they should be entitled to it." These people include many students and artists.
Bohn also says that EU citizens have recently left the country because the government did not provide enough help during the Corona crisis. Although everyone who resides here - whether Settled Status or Pre-Settled - is entitled to financial support and social benefits, quite a few employers and authorities were not aware of this. "A lot of people in the creative and hospitality sectors have contacted us who have been affected by this. They are now reluctantly looking to relocate to continental Europe." The British often talk about economic migrants - Britain is portrayed as an attractive country if someone wants a good job. "But many EU migrants like living here," says Bohn. "London in particular is a favourite destination because it's a great, international city."
The government proudly points out that some four million EU citizens have already been granted the right to stay. The deadline for applications is still in June. "We want you to stay," ministers have repeatedly assured EU citizens. "Well," Bohn says. "I'm not that convinced. First of all, we have the problem that many people who are difficult to contact will not secure their residence status." The Migrants Organise campaign writes that tens of thousands of EU immigrants are at risk of being considered "illegal migrants" after the deadline; these include people with learning disabilities and dementia, as well as homeless people.
The vaccination programme as a ray of hope
Second, the government is doing little to help EU citizens assert their rights, Bohn says. "For example, we've seen several dozen job ads that say: people without Settled Status don't even need to apply - even though that's against the rules." The fact that there is no physical document for Settled Status, but is stored purely digitally, doesn't make things any easier: "Many employers and banks can't do anything with purely digital status, so discrimination is programmed in."
Headlines were made by a revelation in the Guardian that since 1 January EU citizens have been persuaded to leave the country voluntarily with a cheque for up to 2,000 pounds. However, Jonathan Portes puts this into perspective: this programme has existed for many years to help "irregular migrants" from non-EU countries return to their country of origin. As a logical consequence of Brexit, this programme will now be extended to EU migrants who have the same legal status after the end of the free movement of persons.
"There are some people who would like to go home but can't - they have no money or have become homeless," says Portes. "The small amount of money is meant to help them with that." Considering how the Home Office deals with migrants it wants to deport - a very "unpleasant process" - this programme is by no means the worst thing Britain is doing.

"I'm home"
What the exodus of Europeans will mean for the UK economy cannot yet be determined. Covid-19 has overshadowed everything, says Portes: "In terms of labour market developments and migration flows, we simply lack reliable data." One ray of hope for him is the vaccination programme, which has made a significant impact in the UK. Several hundred thousand citizens are vaccinated every day, and so far almost 14 percent of the population has received the first dose.
"It is quite conceivable that the economic recovery will proceed correspondingly faster," says Portes. "In that case, people in Romania or Spain would ask themselves: why should I stay here when London is humming again and everyone is vaccinated? That would be the positive scenario."
Luigi D'Onofrio is not yet sure if he will ever return to London. "I have left the door open. I'm still registered as a nurse in the UK, so it wouldn't be a problem. But I think it's rather unlikely. Since I've been back in Italy, I've been thinking: I'm home."

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