The Small room was silent and dark, the only light coming from three small LED readouts on three coffin-like devices. In the next room, a clock that had been faithfully keeping time for close to two centuries finally clicked over the allotted time. A long dormant computer program went into action, carrying out a series of commands. First, it activated the main generator, which had been off since it’s last auto-maintenance startup twenty years previously. It came to life with a large growl, spewing noxious fumes into a vent shaft excavated for just such a purpose. Next, the computer activated power to the underground complex. All around the facility, lights whirred into life, a CD clicked on, and the placid strains of Enya’s “Watermark” wafted through the rooms. Finally, the computer released the commands to unlock the cryogenic stasis chambers. The thawing process took several hours, during which time the generator whisked most of the stale air out of the facility. After a while, the first of the chambers hissed open, a loud coughing sound came from within, followed by a loud plop as the naked occupant fell to the cement floor.

“Oww, Mother Fucker,” the naked man cursed. Atrophy, he thought, my muscles have atrophied. Well, at least I’m not insane, he thought. Attempting to stand and failing, he opted to crawl. As his eyes came across the water jug he left on the table many moons ago, he realized how thirsty he was. Licking his swollen lips, he cracked the jug, noting the hiss that denoted the seal had not been broken on the water. Gulping the water, he again attempted standing and was rewarded with success this time. He turned to gaze at his companions in slumber, but before he walked over to them, he retrieved his walking staff from where he had propped it on the wall. Intricately carved and stained, the oaken staff had been a constant companion since he had blown his knee out on an oil rig in the North Sea. He had been a member of a Platoon of Navy SEALs assaulting the rig, taken over by the IRA, and took a nasty fall from the fastrope when the helicopter dropping his team surged downward. Despite the injury, he was able to drag himself behind cover and still assist his team taking down the tangos. But then, as if his first injury wasn’t enough, one of the Irishmen snuck up behind him and stabbed him in his right eye, doing irreparable damage. But he paid for the wound with his life, and Ansley made sure it was a slow death. Following the Op, Ansley decided enough was enough and left the Teams, but in gratitude for his years of faithful service, his boss finagled a state-of-the-art replacement surgery for his eye. His right eye was now blood red, in sharp contrast to the gray of the left. But that wasn’t the only difference. By twitching his right eyelid, he could move between regular sight, thermal imaging, and night vision, as well as zooming in on objects out of sight of normal vision. In the beginning, using its capabilities brought on massive headaches, but as his brain grew accustomed to processing the additional information, they subsided. Ansley, moving carefully across the concrete, stopped in front of the next stasis chamber. It held a attractive-looking white women with long black hair.

“Sister,” Ansley whispered. Verifying all her vitals were stable on the LED readout, he saw she was on track to “awaken” in two hours. He had deliberately programmed his unit to awaken him early so he could recover in time to assist the other two in coming to their senses after the long sleep. He thought back, back to their childhood and early years. She was a year older than him, and they both tried hard to protect one another. They were always moving around- military brats, so they had to constantly prove themselves to new groups of kids who only saw two fresh victims to pick on. The kids learned quickly to leave the Jagg children alone, as their father did see to martial arts training at a young age. When Vivian turned 19, she left to study in Europe, and Ansley did not see her for many years. Soon after he left for the Navy, became a SEAL, and was busy training for many years. He actually ran into his sister by accident one day in a cafe in Venice. He and his friends were out trying to unwind and he saw her in a corner talking to a man in a business suit. Although they both recognized each other as soon as he walked in, something told him to stay away from the table. At length, the man left, and Ansley walked over to his sister. She was very short to the point of rudeness with him, and it wasn’t until much later that he discovered why. She was a very special agent for a very special agency, and had come dangerously close to blowing her cover in running into him. Luckily, Ansley had the sense to play along with her until they could talk at a safer place. In the stasis room, he hobbled over to the final stasis unit. In it, a tall, lean, fair-haired man lay in quiet slumber. Jameson Fisk, Ansley thought. They had been friends since they were around twelve years old, the only childhood friendship Ansley made that lasted. Keeping in touch over the years, Ansley finally convinced him that war was inevitable and got him to allocate several million of his voluminous finances towards construction of the underground facility in the isolated Pennsylvania valley. Little did Ansley know it was Jameson’s job as a computer programmer on several hush-hush government programs that really convinced him. So, Ansley designed this place, supervised the building and outfitting, and in January of 2001 they locked the door and went into a long, deep, sleep. Unknown to both Jameson and Vivian, Ansley woke up in 2005, nearly lost control of his bowels upon accessing the computers, and hurried back into sleep. He was deeply curious as to exactly what changes had taken place in the world in the past two hundred years. Having read every sociological theory he could lay his hands on, as well as forming several of his own, he was anxious to see if any of his predictions were correct. One Hundred minutes until they thawed. He decided it was time to get some clothes, some nourishment, and some armament. Walking into the next room was like walking into a totally different place. While the stasis chamber and engineering room were spartan, with bare concrete and rock walls, the great room was meticulously decorated by an obvious fan of antiquity. The floor was richly adorned with Persian rugs, and vintage English lamps cast soft light around high ceiling room. A gas fire blazed merrily in a mock fireplace, and the stuffed carcass of an enormous black bear cast flickering shadows on the mahogany-paneled walls. Jagg glanced behind him and above, where a wooden railing and a spiral staircase revealed a loft overlooking the great room. Damn, he thought. He didn’t consider how weak he’d be when he designed this place. He had to climb the staircase to shower and get dressed. Weighing the risks, he decided to go for it and approached the stairs, eyeing the twisting metals spires with apprehension. He set his staff down next to the stairway and started to crawl, figuring it to be the safest method of travel. After ten minutes, his left hand touched the soft carpet marking the end of his tense journey. Crawling to safety, he stood and took in the room. It was right above the stasis chamber, and the walls and floor decorated similar to the great room. This room, however, held only three single beds and a large dresser, with a door to the left and a door to the right. Ansley headed to the left, and sensors registering his presence flicked the lights on, revealing a spacious bathroom, boasting both a shower and a large tub. He turned the dial on the shower and was greeted by a loud groaning noise, and a smelly jet of brown water, which cleared in a few moments. Taking no chances, He sat down underneath the spray and proceeded to scrub himself down thoroughly. After a while he turned the spray off and crawled out, staring at himself in the foggy mirror. Wow, I look bad, he thought. He decided to let the beard stay on his face for the time being and strode back into the bedroom, crossing it and entering the large walk-in closet. He walked along the rows until he found what he wanted, selecting a pair of black cargo pants and a faded black sweatshirt. On top he added a vest, whose voluminous pockets held all sorts of goodies. Retrieving a pair of wool socks from a dresser in the bedroom, as well as his personal weapons, a ten-inch survival knife which he strapped to his left thigh, and a Beretta M92 in a holster under his right armpit. He put a black pouch which held two spare magazines for the Beretta opposite the knife, and made a mental note to download the 9mm rounds and stretch the springs out- two centuries could not help their tension-keeping qualities. God, this is sooo weird, he thought for the umpteenth time since he awoke. Pulling back the slide on the gun, he checked the action, and vowed to field-strip it as soon as he got downstairs. Ah, the next challenge, the stairs. Although Ansley felt his strength slowly returning, he still sat on the edge of the carpet and “scooted” down the twisting steps one at a time. The Enya CD on repeat had helped him recover, so he decided to let it continue. Walking through the great room, he entered the kitchen of the facility, and immediately opened the refrigerator door, considering drawing his gun in anticipation of what vile fungus awaited him. Amazingly, it was bare of life, so Ansley opened the freezer and transferred some items to thaw. Moving to a cupboard, he pulled out a military MRE, or Meal, Ready to Eat- Beef Stew, his favorite. He finished that one quickly, then devoured a Chicken Teriyaki one. Emitting a satisfied belch, he rummaged around until he found some coffee, cracking the metal lid with a can opener, then pouring enough grounds into the Mr. Coffee for a few cups. While it dripped its way into existence, he walked across the kitchen and opened a steel door with a four digit code. He walked into the armory and gazed about, a feeling of security stealing across his body. On various shelves sat M4A1 rifles, M203 Grenade Launchers, MP5s, Sniper rifles, M60 Machine guns, LAWs, various pistols and a few shotguns. Crate after crate of ammunition was stacked against the far corner. To the right there was C-4 and detcord, and across from that were blasting caps, fuses and remote detonation devices. In short, this was every good soldier’s dream that Ansley turned into reality with Jameson’s inheritance. Finding what he was looking for, some oil, a brush and a rag, he quickly field-strips the Beretta and the magazines, stretching and oiling the springs, making sure the rounds will feed smoothly. Tucking the weapon into the holster, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of steaming java, inhaling the scent deeply into his lungs. Ansley looked at his watch. Still forty-five minutes until his sister and friend awaken. He walked back into the Great Room and into a room on the other side, filled with electronics equipment. Booting up a computer inside, he accessed outside cameras and sent a query to see if there were any active satellites left orbiting the Earth. He found no civilian ones, but he knew when Fisk awoke he had the know-how to check the military ones Ansley could not. As the cameras from outside the redoubt blinked on one by one, a startling scene was revealed right outside the front door of the underground bunker.

“Son of a Bitch,” muttered Ansley.

The two stasis chambers hissed open as one as Ansley stood patiently, with glasses of water and tericloth robes at the ready.

“Mother Fucker,” began Vivian, after promptly flopping onto the cement.

“Sister, sometimes we’re so alike it’s scary,” Ansley remarked, breaking into a wide grin. He strode over to her and quickly wrapped the robe around her, then gave her the glass.

“Did we make it?” Jameson asked, rubbing his eyes against the glare of light. From the sound of his voice he seemed to be suffering from a colossal hangover.

“Yes, J.J., we made it, it’s the year 2105, it’s five in the morning, and I have a hot pot of java just waiting for you guys as soon as you’re able.” He wrapped Jameson in the other robe and handed him the water glass.

“I hate coffee,” muttered J.J. “Got any fresh O.J.?”

“Ah, we just ran out,” replied Ansley, “but I’m thinking about asking our neighbors for some.”

“Did you just say neighbors, or am I hearing things?” Vivian inquired, struggling to stand. She was not very successful.

“Sister,” Ansley admonished, “like our uncle always said. ‘Slowly, Slowly’.” He put her arm around him and gently lifted her up.

“J.J., I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get her started in the shower, then come back for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got nothin’ but time. But try to hurry, please.” J.J. laid back down.

“Promise, Bro. Let’s go, Ugly. This is probably the one time in our lives that I’m more coordinated than you, maybe I should take pictures.”

“Laugh it up, asshole, just wait till I’m stronger and I whip your ass on the sparring mats, then we’ll see who’s funny.” Vivian countered. “And the pistol range.”

“Oh, I’m sure glad you’re your normal self, sister. Still holding on to these delusions of beating me. Even with a bum knee you’re no match for my powers.”

The next few hours seemed to fly by as J.J. and Vivian went through roughly the same steps Ansley did. Vivian dressed herself in an all-black catsuit and pinned her hair back in a pony tail. She secreted a few items here and there in the suit, and then donned a simple harness which held a holster for a silenced Walther PPK, two spare magazines, a sheaf of three throwing knives, and several pouches that were currently empty. J.J. opted for a pair of khaki cargo pants and a dark flannel shirt. And as for weaponry, he stuffed a fat swiss army knife into a pocket. Reunited around the computers downstairs, Ansley brought them up to date on what he’d discovered.

“It seems we have a family of squatters living right on top of our front door,” Ansley explained.

“Well, that’s why we built a back door, right?” J.J. countered, fingers flying over the keyboard, entering access codes for military satellites he had no right to know.

“Yeah, but it still pisses me off, though.”

“Look what we have here.” Jameson’s sharp exclamation bringing both Vivian’s and Ansley’s eyes to the screen. “There’s a few that still work. And someone is still using them.”

J.J.’s anouncement shocked the siblings, as they thought technological use would be in the stone age.

“Is there a chance civilization survived?” Vivian asked hopefully, as Jameson brought up a map of North America on the screen.

“Aah, let’s just say it’s a good thing we didn’t build this place in California,” Ansley remarked, noting how it looked suspiciously like that state ceased to exist. The Great Lakes had become one great lake, and vast portions of coastlines and mountain ranges looked to be different.

“Switching to Thermal,” Jameson announced.

“Are those cities?” Vivian asked, pointing to several well lit up areas around the continent.

“Nope. Volcanoes. Active, by the looks of things.” J.J. burst her bubble with the laconic statement.

“Well, keep me posted, I’m gonna start working these muscles out, get them up to speed. I don’t fancy this world will be that friendly. Coming, sister?” Ansley asked.

“Yes, I’ll be along in a sec.” She replied. “Hey, zoom in on say, New York City, see how it fared.”

“Coming right up.”

The screen blurred into life, showing the vast metropolis.

“How close can you get it?” Vivian queried.

“Close enough,” J.J. stated, “to read newspaper headlines.” He typed furiously for a few moments, then an image sprang into view. It looked like Beirut on a bad day. The streets were choked with rubble, and you could see filthy people scurrying about in rags. They watched, unable to tear their eyes off the screen as an Armored Personnel Carrier ground it’s way down one street, strafing anything in sight with it’s turret machine gun.

“Well, I’ve seen enough, how about you?” Vivian sighed. “Human nature. It never changes. God, why are we built like this? To torture and kill each other endlessly?”

“Vivian, it’s not something that’s gonna change overnight. Hell, it’s been centuries, but, hey, there’s always hope for the future, right?”

“I guess.” Vivian strode off, leaving Jameson to his computer and his thoughts.

In the weight room, Ansley put on “IV” by Led Zeppelin, and proceeded with a series of limbering exercises on the mats to one side of the room. He figured in a few days they could try to make contact with the locals. He was worried about airborne diseases, and how they could have mutated in the time they were asleep, but what could they do, live their wholes lives in this cramped little bomb shelter. He didn’t design it for that, so he knew they’d go stir crazy sooner or later. Suddenly, his breathing became constricted as two arms tightened around his neck like a vise. He thrashed around, but the grip was unwavering, so he feigned passing out. Still, his assailant waited an extra ten seconds before beginning to loosen the choke hold. he was really beginning to pass out, but had enough strength to throw his sister over his head and prepare to deliver a crushing blow to her throat. But he never landed it. He just laughed.

“Sister, you are so gullible sometimes.”

“What, you think I didn’t know you were faking? Besides, I’m trained to maintain that chokehold for an extra minute after the victim collapses to ensure success.” Vivian huffed, kipping to her feet.

“Yeah, so, now that the world ended, are you gonna tell me who you worked for?”

“Yeah, maybe- one of these days.” Vivian laughed. “If you beat me with the pistol on that stress course you made up.”

“Come on, sister, too easy.” Ansley exclaimed. “Make it something hard, like sniping a quarter in mid-flip or something. Besides, I’m dying to know how my training compares to yours.” Ansley had attended sniper school as a SEAL, and considered himself fairly proficient with the rifle. However, he also knew his sister was schooled as an assassin by some cloak and dagger government agency. “Well, while you’re here, spot me on the bench.”

The days went by, and the three built up their strength and proficiency with weapons once again. Ansley designed a small firing range on one end of the shelter, and the three used it to reacquaint themselves with small arms, as well as edged weapons. J.J. continued to glean as much information as he could from the satellites, and he pretty much pieced together Skydark by accessing files from early 2001. Finally came the day when Ansley decided to make contact with the squatters outside the main door of the shelter. After carefully watching the people, they had been able to ascertain that there were only two people outside the door. One was a small blond-haired woman, and the other was an enormous bear of a man. The woman did not appear to be armed, but the man had a huge double-bladed ax, and a rusty blunderbuss with cobbled together parts. It looked like it might explode if fired. Their day consisted of gathering firewood, the man occasionally went out to hunt, and that was about it. One of them always stayed in the cave where the entrance was at all times, and they did occasionally glance at the camera as if they knew they were being watched.

“Viv, you ready for this? Let’s go see if these fuckers speak English.” Ansley said, and rose from his chair in the computer room.

“I’ll be backup from in here.” Jameson stated, zooming in the camera on the woman, who appeared to be smoking something in a pipe.

“Right behind you, Brother,” Vivian called. “Hey, maybe she’ll share her stash with us.”

“Haha.” J.J. said. “Stuff’d probably knock me out after all this time.”

Vivian joined Ansley in the armory, as he perused the weapons and tried to decide which ones to take. The two both donned body armor, then webbed vests which could hold weapons, ammunition or grenades. Ansley settled on his usual Beretta 92F and several spare mags, his survival knife, a couple flash bang grenades and a M4 with a M-203 attachment. He loaded the pouches of the vest with spare 5.56 mags and 40MM HEPD rounds. The rifle also had a mag-light mounted on it. Vivian stuck with her silenced PPK and throwing knives, and opted for a silenced, laser-sighted MP-5. Both siblings put long black jackets on over their gear, and added high speed-looking comm devices that fit into their ears and extended out to their mouths to talk. After checking each other out, they headed for the door, and got a last minute comm check with J.J. He in the meantime had thrown on some body armor and grabbed a Remington 870 shotgun and a belt of shells, just in case he was needed. The siblings “stacked” on the doorway, crouching right next to the opening. Ansley entered all but one number of the eight-digit code, then waited for the squeeze on his arm from his sister. He didn’t have to wait long, as she was also well trained in room-clearing. She squeezed, and he entered the final number, then flicked his weapon off safe. The heavy vault-like door groaned open, and he slipped through as soon as it was wide enough to fit, his sister right behind. The two squatters were taken totally by suprise. They say by their fire just staring at the two intruders to their peaceful after-dinner conversation. Ansley covered the center-mass of the woman to the left, while Vivian had her laser sight rigidly on the forehead of the big bull of a man. His Blunderbuss sat out of reach against the cave wall, and he made no move to get it.

“Hello,” Ansley began. “You guys are awfully persistent for door-to-door salesmen.”

“Where is the third one?” The woman asked quietly, her eyes carefully observing the siblings. “You know, the studious one.” The woman could see suprise and shock come over their feature, although their guns didn’t waver for an instant.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, lady,” Ansley said. “I think you’ve been smoking too much of that stuff.”

“The Herb that I inhale enhances my powers of perception, and aids me in divining the truth of things. I am rarely wrong. I have been waiting for you three to awaken for nearly a year. I have seen you in my dreams, and in visions in the dream house.” The woman quietly stated. “My name is Slyvia, and this is my guardian, Bear.” Bear grunted and nodded his head.

“Whoa, back the train up,” Vivian began. “Lady, you have a lot of explaining to do. Why are you waiting for us? How did you know we were here, and sleeping?”

“I knew you were here, because, well, it’s difficult to put into words to explain it to someone without the gift. But the reason is you three are destined to bring great changes to this world, it is written on the veil, it is whispered on the wind. Most people just can’t see or hear the things I can. But Bear and I are to be your guides on this journey, to help you understand the world as it exists now.”

“Bro, I gotta wave the bullshit flag on this one,” Vivian said. “I say give these two the night here and then in the morning they can pack their shit and find a new home.”

“What could I say to make you believe in my words?” Slyvia implored them, holding her hands out. The siblings said nothing, and started backing towards the entrance.

“Wait,” Sylvia exclaimed. “I can communicate with the spirits of the dead. Tell me a question only your father can answer, and tomorrow I will tell you his response.”

“Bullshit!! How dare you violate my father’s name by making such a claim. I ought to shoot you where you stand right now.” Vivian exclamation came with hidden fury, and she swung the barrel of her MP-5 to bear on Slyvia’s chest. Ansley smoothly shifted focus to Bear, so he wouldn’t get any ideas. He didn’t, and Slyvia did not look worried in the slightest.

“Sister,” Ansley began, never taking his eyes off Bear, “I say give her a shot.”

“What! Are you nuts, Ansley? Are you going to sit there and play into her hand?”

“What can it hurt? How is she gonna know Mom and Dad’s anniversary and what they did to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary? Find that out, witch woman, and tomorrow morning I might treat you to some breakfast if your tall tale proves true. Let’s go, Sis.” Ansley ended their first contact with the outside world with an upbrupt about face and hit the keypad to lock the facility once more, leaving the two squatters alone with their fire and the night.

“What the fuck, Ansley, since when do you make the rules around here?” Vivian demanded hotly, fire in her eyes.

“Look, Sister, it’s just a gut instinct, all right? You always say follow your instincts, and mine are saying this crazy chick is telling the truth. Besides, what does one night hurt?” Ansley countered, trying to calm his sibling.

“What does it hurt?” She exclaimed. “What if they have reinforcements they can go get, and they storm in here after our gear? Not to mention bringing Dad’s name into this.” She let her words die off. She knew that both of them held their father in the highest of regards. A career soldier who put the country above his family, He started as an enlisted Green Beret before winning a commission in Vietnam and moving on to Army Intelligence. It was in his image that both his children strove, they honored his ideals of patriotism and dedication, even if it was at the expense of their childhood. Vivian stormed off into the armory, ripping her gear off and tossing it into a corner. Ansley let her go, wondering if he did the right thing. He shook his head. He knew he did the right thing, he just didn’t do a very good job of explaining it to his sister. Oh well. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, pulling a Corona out and sniffing it suspiciously before taking a swig. He walked into the computer room to find Jameson sitting there, contemplating several screens at once.

“So, mind telling me what happened? Your lovely sister just stormed off.” He inquired.

“Yeah, she does have a flair for the melodramatic. Well, it’s kind of crazy, but....” Ansley spent the next twenty minutes trying to describe the situation to his closest friend. J.J. listened attentively, asking a question here or there to clarify something.

“Hmmmm,” was Jameson’s only response after the whole thing was laid out. “I’d say you did the right thing by following your instincts. But then again I’m not a snakey Spy like your Sis, she might have picked something up on her woman’s intuition radar or something.”

“Bullshit,” Ansley countered, “Look.” On the screen showing the Cave entrance, it looked as though Slyvia was going into some kind of convulsion. Whether or not it was staged for their benefit was up in the air, but it looked like a pretty genuine, honest-to-goodness convulsion.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed, fuck this.” Ansley left the computer room, and Jameson to ponder those temperamental Jaggs and their mood swings.

The next day found Ansley up early, pumping iron, while his sister did some Yoga exercises on the mats, completely ignoring him. Jameson had fallen asleep in front of the computers, as he had made a habit of doing the last couple nights. After showering Ansley made a strong pot of coffee and brought a steaming mug and a freeze-dried danish in to J.J., who groggily accepted it.

“We’re paying them another visit, watch us in case we need help,” Ansley asked, taking in the scene on the computer screen, which revealed the woman known as Sylvia sleeping peacefully in front of the fire, her partner nowhere in sight. Ansley turned and strode out of the room, finding Vivian in the great room, watching a home video of their younger years. It showed a fourth of July celebration at one of their many military housings over the years. They were both under ten years old, but looked very happy, as did their mother and father. She was drinking a glass of whiskey, straight up, no ice or water.

“Dad’s drink.” Ansley stated. “You’re drinking dad’s drink. Haha, remember that one hammered guy, Dad’s friend, you dared me to set his pant leg on fire under the table and I did it.”

Vivian couldn’t suppress a smile at that one. “McDaniels. That was his name. He started running around in circles like a chicken, then jumped in our kiddie pool.” She wiped a tear from her eye and stopped the tape, looking directly into her brother’s eye. “If you’re wrong about this, if this chick turns out to be a fake, don’t ever presume to make tactical decisions without consulting me first. I am trained to deal with this sort of people. You are not. Do you understand?” There was no anger in her tone, only calm stating of fact.

“Yes, Sister.” He held eye contact with her for a moment longer, then turned. “Come on, let’s see if I’m right or wrong.” The two strode into the Armory, repeating the exact procedures they went through the day before. Taking a final look at the monitor and apprising J.J. of their actions, they entered the cave. Bear was nowhere to be seen. Slyvia rose from her sleeping position, propping up on an elbow.

“Morning.” She said, stifling a yawn.

“Where’s Bear?” Questioned Ansley.

“Hunting for dinner no doubt,” she answered. “I spoke to your father’s spirit last night. Are you interested in hearing what he had to say?” She gazed directly at Ansley, deliberately ignoring Vivian, who glared and gritted her teeth but said nothing.

“Yes, what did he have to say?” Ansley asked, staring into Slyvia’s sea green eyes with fierce intensity.

“Well, for starters, their anniversary is October 31st, I believe the predark name for that is All Hallows Eve, which incidentally is a special day for me as well. But when I asked him about their 20th wedding anniversary, he laughed. He said “What 20th wedding anniversary?” It seems he was someplace called Libya. He celebrated while waiting to jump from a plane high in the air, while your mother simply lit a candle and looked at an old photo album.” She let her words fade into nothingness in the shadows of the cave as she gazed at the shocked faces in front of her. Hearing no response, she continued. “He said for me to tell you that he and your mother are at peace and happy, and watching over you this very moment. And to you Vivian, he said he was the one who got you transferred out of the Algiers assignment because you knew someone ratted you out to the mafia.” Slyvia stood. “I’ll be outside,” she said to no one in particular, and walked off, leaving the siblings with much needed privacy.

“Whoa.” was all Vivian could manage.

“Yeah.” Ansley echoed. Both of their minds whirled to accept the possible implications of the witch woman’s words.

“You were right,” Vivian began. “Little brother, you were right. I’ll refrain from doubting your instincts in the future.”

“Look, that’s not important right now. What is important is what this chick has to teach us.”

“Ahh, can someone tell me what’s going on? I’m getting sick of trying to read lips in here,” J.J.’s voice came over the comm unit as an annoying break to their conversation.

“Yeah, we’ll be in a second with the witch lady to have some breakfast. Let’s go see what outside looks like, sister.” Ansley walked towards the entrance to the cave, Vivian following suit. Unbeknownst to the two of them, a dark shape slithered out of a shadowy corner of the cave, from what looked like a pile of dirty rags. A small lithe figure, it hugged the wall under the camera and darted into the entrance to the facility.

Outside, the siblings were being treated to their first deathlands sunrise. It was green. Or looked green, through the haze of clouds covering it. There were reds and oranges and purples as well, all mixed together to form a radioactive quilt laying over this part of the world in the 22nd century.

“Ah, wow,” Ansley said, gazing in wonder at the heavenly vista before him. Vivian took in the surrounding countryside, which looked little changed since their time. It was covered in forests, and the air had a crispness to it that wasn’t there in the 20th century. She spotted Bear about seventy-five yards off, lugging the carcass of a deer on his back.

“Gimmee your rifle, now.” She said, with a tone that said there could be no arguing. Ansley glanced sharply at her, then switched weapons with her before glancing quickly around and seeing Bear. Slyvia saw this, and opened her mouth to speak.

“Please, I beg you, do not do this. Bear has a necessary part to play in all of this. He-” Vivian cut her off, not even sparing a glance as she sighted down the rifle.

“Lady,” she began, “shut up.” Bear seemed oblivious as he made his way up the trail towards them. Slowly she squeezed the trigger, and the rifle bucked, the spent cartridge flipping through the air and landing with a clink on the rocky soil below. Behind Bear, a bat-like creature with fangs like a wolf crashed into the ground next to him. He looked up at the group and hastened his approach.

“Thank you.” Slyvia said, looking visibly relieved.

“Lets go inside. Lady, you’ve got some explaining to do, and I want to see if I’m any good at making venison omelets.” Ansley turned and walked towards the cave, the rest following suit.

As he entered the facility, he turned and ensured Vivian brought up the rear, then proceeded up the stairs to the armory. He decided to leave everything on for the time being, until he got to know their two new guests just a little better. He walked into the computer room to say something to Jameson, and immediately brought his gun to bear on what looked like a very filthy sixteen year old boy, who sat in a seat next to his friend, but facing the door. He had a strange looking weapon in his lap- it looked like a pair of brass knuckles with long, thin flensing knives welded to them. The blades were wickedly serrated, and Ansley could see it had a twin tied off roughly on his waist with a piece of twine. In his hand he held a small derringer, no larger than three inches, pointed roughly in the direction of the door. The laser sight of the MP-5 was steadily centered on the boys forehead, when Jameson spoke up, turning around to face his friend.

“Relax, Ansley, he’s OK. Once the little bastard proved that he had the drop on me, he just sat down and started calling me ‘tech wiz’ and badgering me about the computers.” J.J. explained. His shotgun hadn’t moved from where Ansley had seen it last, so he took it to be a good sign.

“He one of yours?” He inquired of Slyvia, turning to glare at her.

“Yes, his name is Wraith. I asked him to sneak in here to prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that you could trust us. Otherwise you’d still be suspicious.” She stared evenly back at him.

“What kind of name is Wraith?” Jameson asked, eyeing the two newcomers with an appraising glance.

“I named him, because he had no name when I found him, and it seemed to suit him.” Slyvia replied, returning the appraising glance to Jameson. “So, you are the studious one. Is it true you worked for the whitecoats who poisoned the land and sky in the name of science?” The statement was made without a hint of malice, but it was clear at least a small degree existed.

“I’m afraid so, but once I found out what was going on, I got out as quick as I could. Hope you don’t hold it against me.” J.J. shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Ah, on the contrary, it could prove to be very beneficial, but that remains to be seen.” Slyvia turned to Ansley. “It seems that formal introductions are in order.”

“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing in the general direction of the kitchen and great room. “Sis, please show our guests to the executive lounge and I’ll find somewheres for Bear to put this deer.” He walked into the kitchen, Bear stolidly following behind, dripping blood everywhere as he walked.

“Well, then,” said Vivian, tossing a glare at Slyvia, then smiling, holding her arm out for Jameson to take, “Let us adjourn to the parlor for happy hour, although it remains to be seen if it shall be happy.” He obliged her, and the four made their way to the great room. As they sat on the couches around a wooden coffee table, Wraith’s gaze settled on the stuffed Bear in the far corner.

“Baby.” he said grinning at J.J.

“Baby? What the hell does that mean?” Jameson said, looking at Slyvia for a translation.

“It means he’s used to seeing much bigger bears than that. You must understand, the ecology of the world has changed significantly since your time. But, never mind, all of this will come out once we begin your education.” Slyvia dismissed the question with a wave of her hand.

“Education- Hey, I went to MIT- I don’t need no stinkin’ education,” he said, bewildered. Before she could retort, Ansley called out from the kitchen.

“Beverages,” he bellowed.

“Whiskey, no ice.” Vivian was the first to respond, keeping a wary eye on the two newcomers.

“We have coffee, tea, coke, powdered milk, scotch, whiskey, tequila and a couple beers,” Jameson explained to Slyvia and Wraith, who looked astounded at such a selection. Wraith even had his jaw dropped.

“Always hearda whiskey, never had,” was his clipped answer.

“Tea for me please,” said Slyvia, who sounded strangely like an English lady of old.

“Coffee for me, Ansley,” J.J. yelled at the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence reigned until the unlikely sight of enormous Bear wielding a tray of drinks appeared from the kitchen. He set them down on the table with a grunt as Ansley strode to the CD player and put in ‘Jimi Hendrix: Greatest Hits.’

“All right,” He began, as the strains of ‘All Along The Watchtower’ came through the speakers. “My name is Ansley Jagg, I’m 28 years old. This is my sister Vivian, who is a year older than me. This is my friend Jameson Fisk, who is also 28. Any questions?” He looked at all three of the newcomers in turn.

“Yes.” Slyvia said. “But they can wait. All will be revealed in time.”

“All will be revealed in time,” J.J. mimicked, making a face. “Sounds like some damn psychic bullshit.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, she is good at that psychic bullshit,” Ansley said, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“To begin, I am Slyvia Who Sees, or just Slyvia if you prefer. I am 25 years old, and am a fully ordained priestess of my order. This is-” She was interrupted by Vivian.

“Which Order are we talking about?” She brashly inquired.

“I apologize, I forgot you three are not from this time. It is the Order Of The Crimson Tendril.” She explained quickly. “I’ll talk more in detail about it in a little while. This is Bear, he is one of the bodyguards of the Order, and is currently guarding me. My mission-” she started the sentence but never finished it, but continued speaking after gazing at both Ansley and Vivian. “And this is Wraith. We found him while traveling near the ruins of Newyork, close to death from some poison. A great deal of my training is devoted to healing, and I found a way of curing him of his sickness. He has told me little of his history, but I suspect it was typical of the Deathlands.” She spat the word out with a venom.

“Deathlands, what’s that?” Questioned J.J. “Sounds like a scary place.”

“In the simplest definition, Mr. Fisk, it is.” Slyvia replied. “But it is much, much more than that.” She sipped her tea, and conversation ceased, and the six listened to the words of “Castles Made Of Sand.”

“This is wondrous,” Slyvia exclaimed. “I pray you will allow me the chance to listen to these beautiful sounds as we progress with your training.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. Bruja, that brings me to my next point. What the fuck is this ‘training’ you keep referring to?” Jameson asked, taking a slug of coffee.

“Why, surely you don’t think you can just go outside without some idea of how conditions have changed during all the time you have been asleep, Mr. Fisk,” Slyvia commented dryly.

“Don’t call me Shirley,” Jameson warned, but only Ansley and Vivian thought it was funny.

“Well,” Ansley began. “It seems we have a great deal to teach one another. Good thing I made a guest bedroom in this place.” And so the next month passed. Ansley introduced Bear to the M-60 machine gun, taught him how to carry it, field-strip it and correct jams under stress. He ran him hard, like a drill sargeant, driving home the point that if the “Pig” went down, the group was soon to follow. Ansley felt confident that Bear could handle the weapon, could take it apart in his sleep, and only then did he let up on the harassment. Wraith, on the other hand, was given extensive close quarters shooting training by Vivian, who found an apt pupil in the young man. She designed special scenarios inside the small range to test his reflexes under stressful conditions. As she suspected, nothing she could do would faze him psychologically, so she concentrated on developing his marksmanship skills in stressful situations. He, in turn, improved her thrown weapon skills, demonstrating incredible proficiency with blades and Chinese stars. Slyvia was content to immerse herself in CD-ROM studies on the computer, and excelled under Jameson’s tutelage. Both groups benefited considerably from the exchange of knowledge. The ones from the past learned much of the Deathlands, of what it was like to fight on a daily basis for survival. And the ambassadors from the present gleaned all sorts of useful tidbits from the time travelers. Slyvia revealed to the three of them that she foresaw them bringing great changes to the Deathlands.

“You are the Trinity From The Past, my reason for being.” She told them one night. “I was born to help you do what you must do.”

“You really believe in that ‘Destiny’ crap?” Ansley said, under the influence of a little too much tequila. “ I believe in ‘No Fate But What You Make. That’s my density.”

“Well, if you could see what I could, perhaps you’d reconsider. Perhaps I can change your mind.” She strode gracefully over to him. For the first time, Ansley noticed the sexy swagger of her hips, the silky sway of her hair, and the look in her eyes as she watched him. She sat down on the couch next to him and took his hand in hers, never breaking eye contact with him. Suddenly, the Great Room vanished, with its flickering shadows and comforting furniture, and was replaced with several different images. It was as if his vision was split in three and he was seeing three different things simultaneously. The first was a fierce firefight inside the closed doors of what looked like the corridors of some underground laboratory. He could see him and his sister and J.J., as well as Bear and Wraith, battling their way towards some unknown goal. Having his vision divided into thirds did not hamper his ability to feel what was going on in each situation, on the contrary, it tripled it, so he was literally bombarded with sensations. The second vision began by panning around some sort of desert outpost, showing the guard towers and such, and then zoomed in, to show him fighting in an arena, against Bear, as dozens of people cheered. Bear lifted him by the neck and hurled him against the steel bars of the arena. The third, and most disturbing vision revealed both Ansley and Slyvia in a Goodyear blimp of all things, high above some post-holocaust city, as explosions ripped through the buildings far below. He was on his back in the control room of the blimp, listening to the sounds of explosions, with is pants open enough to allow his manhood to protrude. Slyvia was riding him, moaning in ecstasy, and he was enjoying it, even though he knew his friends were somewhere below in the chaos. The combination of experiencing the three visions at once was too much for Ansley to handle, and he broke out of Slyvia’s grasp. He looked about wildly, and his friends were staring at him in a puzzled fashion. He looked at Slyvia, who gazed back at him with an unfathomable stare.

“Yeah, I gotta get some air,” he said, walking quickly towards the kitchen, and disappearing even quicker. Vivian followed, but not before glaring a deadly glare at Slyvia. The door hissed open and Ansley stumbled out, shut it behind him. Ten seconds later it opened once again, but by then he was outside, looking at the stars, smelling the crisp air that came with decades of no air pollution. All he had on was his holstered Beretta and his Survival knife, and inside, a small voice was telling him it was dangerous, but he was ignoring it, trying hard to comprehend what the with woman Slyvia had shown him.

“Penny for your thoughts.” His sister said from behind him, casually using the night scope on a sniper rifle to survey the surrounding area, lifting the muzzle when it crossed her brother. It magnified and intensified all available light, until it appeared as though it were only dusk, even when it was pitch black.

“Ha. This’ll cost ya a silver dollar, like the ones uncle Nicholas used to give us.” Ansley replied, not turning around.

“OK, I’ll bite, I got a couple upstairs.”

“We do have a Destiny, sister, we survived for a reason.”

“Yeah, we had a reason, you decided to build this thing and convinced me World War Three was for real. That was the reason.”

“No, it’s more than that. I can’t explain it to you. I can’t put it into words, but, we are here to do something, and we have to listen to Slyvia, she really can see the things we can’t.”

“BULLSHIT!” Vivian exclaimed. “This Bitch has corrupted you, but I’ll break her hypnotic spell. Wait here, Brother, I’ll return when it’s finished.” With that she strode off.

“Sister, wait,” Ansley shouted, turning to see his sister’s figure receding into the blackness of the cave. “It’s not Bullshit, It’s real.” But his words were useless, similar to talking to a brick wall. Vivian walked through the entranceway, shut it, then sent four silenced rounds from her PPK through the keypad, which hissed and shorted out. Dropping the Sniper rifle and grabbing a shotgun, she strode into the Great Room. Before any of the group could respond, she grabbed Slyvia firmly by her blond tresses and hauled her bodily into the weight/training room. Hurling her into a corner, Vivian pointed the shotgun at the three men. “Interfere and Die.” With that she shut the door to the weight room, which was an old fashioned door, and bolted it with an iron bar. She dropped all her weapons and removed her shirt, standing only in a bra and pants, her black hair tied back in a pony tail.

“All right, Bitch, time to pay the piper.”

Outside, Ansley entered codes but to no avail. He even entered codes J.J. and Vivian didn’t know and it did no good. So he sprinted out of the cave and up what looked like a goat trail until he found what he was looking for in the darkness. Thankfully, the earth-shattering changes of the war to really end all wars did not alter the geography enough to change this, his back exit to his hobbit hole in the mountain. He found the handholds and heaved over the heavy-seeming rock, which in reality wasn’t that heavy at all. Then he entered the ten digit code to give him access to the inside. The hatch opened with a ‘shunk’ sound, after so many years of inoperability. It revealed ladder rungs down a black hole in the pale Deathlands moonlight, which Ansley didn’t hesitate to begin climbing.

Slyvia rose to her feet, knees flexed, ready for the battle of her life. Across the mats from her, Vivian didn’t smile or smirk or make smart remarks. She simply prepared to destroy what caused her brother so much harm.

“You’re gonna die, Bitch,” She hissed between clenched teeth. “Nice and slow, the way I’ve been taught.”

“Why do you want to kill me so bad?” Slyvia inquired, edging between some weight-lifting equipment to buy herself some time.

“Cause I want to, Bitch, and that’s all that matters, that I want to, and I can.” She darted into the equipment, cutting off any further attempts at hiding by Slyvia.

“OK, then, come and get me,” she said, and laid down on a bench. Vivian watched her for ten seconds, and satisfied in her mind there was no subterfuge involved, set upon her with great animosity, grabbing her neck and preparing to snap it. Suddenly, a vision flooded her head, of a man with a gun to her head. She could feel the pressure that the man was putting against her head, the barrel of the revolver was right between her eyes. She was watching as the man stared her down, and in super slow motion she could see him pull the trigger, see the hammer arch back, hang there, suspended teasingly for a moment, then begin it’s inexorable fall downward. But then, her eyes shifted to the side, and she saw Slyvia, who raised her hands and waved them at the man. Even as the hammer ignited the powder of the round, his arm shot upward as if propelled by magnets, and the bullet hissed past her ear, burning a trail in her hair. Then she surged upwards, grabbed him by the chin and back of the head, and snapped his neck cleanly. Back in reality, Vivian let go of Slyvia’s head as Ansley charged out of the rifle range. She muttered incoherently as Ansley ran to her and hugged her close to him, staring at Slyvia as if she would bite him. Vivian bawled in his arms, and he stroked her hair, consoling her. Slyvia got up from the bench and opened the door, allowing J.J. and Bear to rush past.

“It’s OK,” She said softly. “It’s over.”

“For Now.”