While You Sleep

"One of our patrols ran into a group of villagers running away from town. We were told to stop anyone and everyone we encountered until we found the woman. As the patrol was questioning them, one of the men killed them," said the trooper.

"How do you know this?" asked the commander.

"We responded immediately when we heard the shots. We were able to catch two of the villagers and persuade them to tell us what they saw. We interviewed them separately and they both told the exact same story," said the trooper.

"So, one man killed all three of the men in the patrol?" asked the commander.

"Yes sir," said the trooper. "And sir, from the way they talked about the way that he did it. I think it was them. Both villagers said that the man started the confrontation, not when he himself was about to be questioned, but when the woman was. His first step was to switch places in line and put the woman behind himself. The way he handled the patrol sounds like a professional. He killed the first man with a surprise attack and then used his body to shield himself and the woman from the other two while he shot them."

"Do we have any idea of where they are now?" yelled the commander.

"No sir, they immediately fled the area and were gone before we got there."

"Well, I think that this changes things," said the commander.

Indeed it did, I thought. We'd have to change the whole situation. In a few hours if I didn't have the woman, I'd have to change things from terrorist kidnapping to a massacre. Even now, I'd have to give up on the woman. There were too many attractive women out there that I could have. If she and the man got out, or either one of them did, it could mean the end not only for my plans but for me.

I nodded my head ever so slightly at the leader of the US agents and then back at the palace. The commander, ever astute picked up on it immediately.

"Take the prince and that man into the palace at once," he barked.

"But no...please. You've already beaten me once," I screamed. I think I may have poured it on a bit thick.

Once we got inside the palace, I straightened up and started issuing orders.

"My orders up until now were to take the woman alive at all costs," I said. "From now on both she and the man with her are to be shot on sight."

The American security man looked at me in shock. "You're...you're behind this," he said. "God damn it Rick was right. The whole time we've been here, I've been telling him that everything was fine and he kept telling me it felt funny. I..."

"Do you want to live to see another day?" I asked. He nodded. "Good then as a reasonable man you need to do as I ask."

* * * * * *

Rick

As we made our way through the streets, our progress grew slower and slower. Earlier on, we'd been able to simply run through the streets and avoid roving patrols of soldiers. After a while, there were more of them and the size of the patrols got bigger. Now, there were trucks full of soldiers driving through the streets in what appeared to be a grid like pattern. They also seemed to be communicating with each other.

We were now moving slowly through backyards and alleys. We had to avoid yards where there were animal or dogs present because of the noise they'd make. There were several times when we had to double back to avoid detection and find another route.

Once, we had to sit and wait for nearly a half hour as a small patrol played hooky and sat smoking cigarettes instead of moving around. We hid in a burned out house that was only fifty feet from where they sat. A truck drove up and a man inside of it spoke to them in Russian. I was only able to make out some of it. But I frowned.

Millie scooted over to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Their orders have changed," I said. "They've been told to shoot both of us on sight."

"Nope," she said.

"Nope, what?" I asked. "That was what he said. He also said something about prizes or rewards for catching us."

"What I meant was it's time for you to tell me what this means," she said. She stuck the piece of paper from my notebook out at me.

"Now?" I asked. She nodded her head and smiled.

"I've been waiting for this all day," she said.

"Well, it doesn't mean anything," I said. "I have this notebook and I write in it. It's just a way for me to organize my thoughts. Sometimes those thoughts come out as scribbles or doodles or notes or lists of things I could have done better. Sometimes they come out as observations and other times they come out as poetry."

"Keep going," she said. "You're doing fine."

"That's it," I said.

"No it isn't, God damn it," she whispered. "I didn't ask you about the history of your notebook or why you write in it. I very specifically asked you what this particular piece of writing means and I gave you the whole day to come up with a way to tell me."

"Uhm, I guess it was what I was thinking about at the time," I said. Even in the darkness, we were so close that I could see her eyes as they narrowed.

"Am I going to have to make you explain this to me line by line, or can you be a big boy about this?" she asked.

"Uhm, you can't always take poems literally," I said.

"This one is pretty God damned literal," she said. "And that's the way I'm taking it. "So, since we can't go anywhere until those guys move, you can start explaining it. And don't start out by saying Well...or uhm, either. Just look me in the eyes and tell me what you want to say."

"Uhm..." I began and her eyes narrowed even more. Then suddenly inspiration hit me. "It's for a book," I said. "I'm going to someday write a book about a secret service agent and..."

"You lying sack of shit," she hissed. "We both know that this isn't job related. This poem or this half of a poem is about me. You need to finish it too." She folded her arms and stared at me. "Why is my life so fucked up?"

"How is YOUR life fucked up?" I asked. "MY life is fucked up."

"Hmph, I could solve your problems in twenty minutes and two or three phone calls," she said. "But you try growing up in the eyes of the public. Every time I looked at a boy, I became a whore. I can't date without it becoming national news. Think about this, the average girl dates somewhere around fifteen or twenty guys before she finds the one she marries. Some of those guys she only dates once and immediately knows are not right for her. Others it might take two or three dates for her to say yes or no to future dates. She might even date some of those guys for a few months or a year before they break up."

"I don't have that luxury," she said. "Every time I date a guy, it's all over the papers. The majority of the guys who ask me out have ulterior motives. You know, they ask me out so they can become more famous. Or they ask me out for political reasons or some other weird shit."

"I'm twenty four years old and I think I'm good looking," she said. "But I've been asked out more times by people who want to get into my bank account or my father's good graces than by guys who wanted to get into my panties. On the other hand, if you want to count guys who simply wanted to get to know ME, not the president's daughter, or the tabloid princess, then the number goes down to only one that I can think of and it was a long time ago."

"Uhm, then maybe..." I began.

"Track him down on facebook and marry him?" she said. "I did that...he's already married and has two kids now. The good ones are always taken quickly. It's gotten to the point where I can kind of tell when somebody likes me and even why they like me. And you, you fucking liar, like me. You like me a lot. And it's not because of your fucking job either so don't try that one."

She looked at me and I couldn't match her gaze. I turned my head as if I was watching the guys we'd been hiding from.

"Why is it so hard for you to tell me?" she asked. "You constantly show it. Even the other agents can tell. I'm braver than you are. I walked into that bar practically naked in a T-shirt that invited you to do nasty things to me. If just one person there had taken a picture of me in that shirt, they'd have thrown my family out of the white house."

"Watch this," she said. "Richard Hammond I lo..."

"They're leaving," I hissed. I really just wanted to stop her from saying something that might end up embarrassing both of us later on. There were lots of times when people felt a certain way or thought they did while in danger and found out that it really wasn't true. Once the danger evaporated so did their feelings.

"To be continued," she hissed back.

We both watched as the soldiers walked away down the road at a ninety degree angle to the way we needed to go. We stepped out of the shelter and slowly crept through the darkened alley towards our destination. I'd only seen this place in the daylight and it seemed to look different in the darkness.

After a couple of blocks, we again had to stop. There were two soldiers who seemed to be going from house to house looking for us. They weren't actually knocking on doors but they were looking in yards and on porches. I was sure that a door to door search would probably be next as things ramped up.

We were, I thought, very close to where we needed to go. I could see the outline of the palace behind us and we were somewhere inside of the loop that I'd run in just this morning or actually the previous morning. I pulled on Millie's shoulder to stop her and we started to back away towards a nearby alley.

A shot rang out at almost the same time as a bullet slammed into the wall beside us. I pushed Millie away and leaped in front of her even as I found the shooter. I snapped off two shots and he fell.

"You got him, Rick," she said. "We have to get out of here. You can let me up now." I rolled over gingerly so she could get up.

"Come on let's go," she said. I got up and looked around. I was sure the shots had brought the other two men who'd been going from door to door.

"What's wrong?" she said.

"Nothing," I lied. I backed her towards the man I'd shot. I kept my eyes on the direction the two men who'd been checking the houses would be coming from. When we got to the body, I noticed that he'd dropped his radio and broken it. That was another piece of bad luck. I was able to recover his pistol. It looked like a Glock clone. I tucked it in Millie's waist band.

"Just in case," I said.

"You're going to need to reach a little lower than that," she smirked. "Just in case." She looked at me. "Rick, you're as bad as my dad," she said swiping at my shirt. "You've got this guy's blood on you."

As her hand hit my side it hurt like hell. She looked at me again and her face screwed up like she was going to cry. "It's not his blood Millie," I said.

"You got shot," she said. "It was when you jumped on top of me wasn't it?"

I pulled her away from the man just as the other two came around the corner towards him. We ducked behind a shed and circled around behind it to the other side. We crept down the alley and emerged on the next block.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"We're going to get you out of here," I said.

"Rick, if we just turn ourselves in they'll get you to a hospital," she said.

"Millie, I told you, they've been told to shoot on sight. If we turn ourselves in, they'll just kill us," I told her. "I don't think the bullet hit anything important or I'd be down already. I do need to get the bleeding stopped or at least covered. It hurts like hell but I haven't lost any function and not much mobility. Let's keep moving."

Tears came from the corners of her eyes but she nodded her head and followed me.

I sighed in relief when I saw it. Even in the darkness the silhouette was clear. The long hood and short rear deck could only be one car. We crept past it and over to the side of the house. I tapped only the window almost silently. I had no idea where the men following us were. My clothes on the left side were bloody but I wasn't leaving any drops of blood yet.

It took a few moments before someone tapped on the glass from the inside. A few minutes after that, he came from the side of the house. As I felt his eyes on us, he put the gun he'd been carrying down.

"Ah," he said. "The man who likes my car." I nodded.

"I need help," I said.

"You are the dangerous fugitive from the news?" he said. "I am thinking that they lie to us."

I just nodded. I kept Millie directly behind me so he couldn't see her. "I've been shot," I said. "If I'm found here they'll shoot you too. But if you help me, I'll make sure it's worth your risk."

"Quickly," he said. "Come inside. And here, you will probably need this more than I do." He handed me a battered revolver. I checked and there were only three bullets in it.

"I'm not alone," I said. Millie stuck her head out from behind me and smiled.

We went inside of the small house. The first thing I noticed was the computer.

"Do you have internet access?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "It isn't broadband but it gets the job done."

Google Chrome in Russian is a thing to see. I got him to open an English language version and I logged on to the secret service's secure web site. I sent out an emergency email to let them know exactly who I was and what the situation was. After that, my friend brought me another shirt and a roll of bandages and some antiseptic. We cleaned and bound my wound. As much as I could tell the bullet really hadn't hit anything vital. It was inside of the fatty tissue deposits that we call love-handles. I'd been relatively lucky. It was almost pitch black outside when we got ready to move on. My new friend, whose name was Piotr, gave us food and water and let us rest for a while but we'd been hearing more and more trucks and vehicles in the distance. As we checked our supplies we also found out that Millie's Glock clone was empty. Not that it would have made much difference but it would have been better than Piotr's revolver as a second gun.

As we got ready to leave, he told us that he could hide us until someone came for us, but I told him that there weren't any places inside of his small house to hide and they'd do a house to house search soon as they got more desperate.

He turned on his small TV set and showed us the news. They had Agent May on a truck that was driving around the city. He was saying that it was all a misunderstanding and that we should turn ourselves in. We wouldn't be hurt.

"So let's turn ourselves in," said Millie. "We need to get that bullet out of you."

"Millie, he's lying," I said. "Watch his eyes as he speaks. At the end of every sentence, he blinks three times. It means he's being forced to say what he said." She watched and nodded her head.

"I would never have noticed that," she said.

"Piotr, thanks for all of your help," I said. "But I have to ask you a big one now..."

"Why should I help you after you stole my car?" he said angrily, as he handed me the keys.

"If we get out of this," I said. "I'll send you a brand new one."

"If you get out of this," he said. "Send me a visa."

We went out through the rear door and made sure that there was no one waiting for us. We listened and didn't hear anything. We were less than five miles from the Russian border and for the first time since everything started, I was sure that we were going to make it.

* * * * * *

Alan Cameron

It was eleven a.m. and I was scheduled to make an appearance at an inner city school in DC. I was going to read a story to the kids and help them understand the importance of reading. It was one of the few appearances I had scheduled for the day that I really looked forward to. The teachers and the kids had greeted me warmly although I'm not sure the kids even understood who I was. "Why do ya sound like a cowboy?" one of the kids asked before I started the story.

"Because I'm from Texas," I said. "I used to be a cowboy."

"I want to be a cowboy when I grow up too," he said.

Halfway through the first chapter of the book one of my secret service men came into the room and interrupted me. I stopped reading and got that same glazed look in my eyes that Bush got when they told him about 911.

I handed the book to the teacher and she moved right in and took over as I moved towards the hallway. The reporters in the room who sensed a story started to follow us outside but were kept in the room by the secret service.

"Mr. President, there's been an incident," said my national security advisor.

"What kind of incident?" I asked.

"Well sir, we received an E-mail a few moments ago and..."

"You pulled me out of there like my ass was on fire over an E-mail?" I said.

"Sir, the E-mail is being verified even as we speak but we have no information and so..." he continued.

"You pulled me out of there before you even verified the information?" I asked incredulously. "This had better be good. Your career may depend on it."

He gulped loudly. "Sir, the information is from a secret service agent named Richard Hammond and he..."

My heart started beating louder. "Let me see the E-mail," I said.

As I read the message, I got angry. I was far too angry to be presidential. "I want planes in the air five minutes ago," I barked.

"Sir, we have to be very careful, this could spark an international incident," he said. I stopped walking and just stared at him. He turned and looked back at me and came back to where I was.

"If I fuck this up and start some type of incident, what's the worst thing that can happen? Pacmanistan declares war on us? Maybe I'll be impeached and thrown out of office. Big fucking deal; I'm only going to be president for two more years anyway. I'm going to be Millie's father for the rest of my God damned life. It's about time I got back to the ranch anyway."

"Besides my daughter, we have eleven other people over there in harm's way, including a secret service agent who has already been shot trying to protect her from some little tin plated tyrant. As of now I am still the president and I want those God damned planes in the air."

"Mr. President," he said. "It's not just Pacmanistan, sir. The planes would have to be cleared to fly over Russia and a couple of other countries, sir. The state department is working on it already. The Russians are being very helpful. They've already told us that if she could somehow get to the border..."

"Just how the fuck is she supposed to do that?" I asked. "They have trucks full of armed soldiers patrolling the streets looking for them, Rick is bleeding his God damned life out and we have no idea how the rest of our people are doing."

* * * * * *

Danielle

I've never been a believer in psychic phenomena but I swear I felt it when the bullet hit Rick. I'd just dropped Katrina off at daycare. I took her to daycare every day because it kept her away from Donnie and his friends. My life might be going to hell, but I'd never take my daughter with me.

I'd already realized that my marriage was over. I'd been too angry to seriously look at the consequences of my actions. I'd been thinking about it a lot lately. What Rick had walked in on last week had torched any chance of us EVER getting back together. I'd been trying to make him angry and hurt him the way he'd hurt me when he first left. I finally realized that I'd hurt him first and all of the things I did had hurt him so much that he truly no longer cared.

The knowledge that he was somewhere overseas injured and possibly dead hurt me far more than I wanted to contemplate. It also made me realize that I WAS my mother. All of my plans for breaking the circle were fruitless. My mother slept with a lot of men, but deep down inside she only loved my father.

I too, had pretty much become a whore but unlike my mother, I didn't do it because I enjoyed it. I did it to avoid being lonely and in the case of Donnie, I needed the financial security. But in my mind I wasn't whore. Shit, for all that I know my mother's situation might not have been any different from mine. We didn't have a lot of money, so maybe she slept with those men to get what we needed just like I do with Donnie.