Last Updated: 5/3/99

Ezra was sure that the occupants of the saloon would not cause anymore trouble for the day so he decided to head toward the church to check on Buck as well. He walked into the church and immediately notcied the tension. He sighed. Now what?

"May I inquire as to how Mr. Wilmington is doing?" he finally asked to no one in particular.

Jack finished cleaning up and was just relaxing in the slowly cooling water. He'd been startled by just what a mess he was. *That's what I get for laying in the mud.*

His ribs still ached every time he breathed, but many of his other injuries had faded into the background as he focussed his thoughts inward. Since he had a room and would soon have some clothes, he figured it wouldn't hurt to stay in town for a day or two. On the other hand, he was sure he could be ready to leave by tomorrow morning, maybe even sooner if he had any more run-ins with "the law." He snorted at that. Mister Larabee was definitely an intimidating character, but Jack had learned never to take that at face value. Lots of people liked to think they were impressive and couldn't back it up. Hopefully he wouldn't have to find out one way or the other.

Jack was starting to get bored. He'd never been one to sit around doing nothing and he certainly didn't want to do it naked practically in public. *Where is that girl?*

A newspaper had been lying on the chair where he'd dumped his clothes. Digging it out from under them he started to read. It was called the Clarion and must've been a paper for the tourists. The headline was "The Magnificent Seven do it Again!" He smiled as he read the story. Apparently the law in town consisted of seven men, fiver of which he'd had the "pleasure" of meeting already, maybe six if that dressed up guy with Larabee was one of them. They'd stopped a bank robbery, saving the town once again from the thieves and bandits who were constantly trying to overtake it. *How cheesy.*

Some of the other stories in the short paper included the railroad coming, new businesses opening in town, and strange occurrences being reported recently.

"Maybe that explains the monster," Jack laughed. He'd pretty much come to the conclusion that the monster was nothing more than a crazed bird. He was about to put the paper back when the date caught his attention: April 21, 1883.

"Hey Mr. Pierson!" he called.

"Yes, Mr. Malone?"

"Is this date right?"

Mr. Pierson looked at the paper and shook his head. "No sir."

"Oh."

"That's last week's paper."

"What?!" That date didn't make sense.

"Er, I can get you another one if you wa--"

"What's today's date?"

"April 28th--"

"That's can't be right, it was September this morning..." Jack jumped out of the tub and hurriedly tried to pull his dirty pants back on. "Stupid pants!" he grumbled trying to put them back together.

"I'm sure Miss Pelli will be back soon..."

"I need to talk to her now!" he demanded rushing past the man, still snapping his pants.

"Mr. Malone," Mr. Pierson called after the young man as he ran out to the street.

"Kit!" Jack yelled to the town. *She follows me around when I don't want her and then she's no where to be found when I need her!*

The town seemed to stop for a moment as everyone within hearing distance turned to see the commotion. A very wet young man was standing half dressed in the middle of the street.

Kit slipped quietly into Jack's room, closing the door behind her and wedging a straight-backed chair under the knob to ensure she wouldn't be interrupted. His jacket was still lying on the bed, and Kit quickly shifted into the coyote-headed humanoid shape she'd shown to Lena earlier. Her senses rejoiced in their returned freedom, and she had to fight herself for a moment to keep from shifting all the way to her natural-born coyote form and run free in the scrub.

*Time enough for that later,* she decided, picking up the strange jacket and sniffing it. It was cured leather, she was sure of that, but incredibly supple and permeated with scents she'd never encountered before. She was intimately familiar with the smells of earth and blood that covered the black leather, trophies of Jack's adventures during the day. But there was another smell underneath it, one she couldn't identify. The front of the jacket had a pocket on each breast, each closed with a shiny metal fastening. Kit sniffed at the fastening, then tugged at the dangling pull-tab. The zipper made a ripping sound as it opened, and Kit almost dropped the jacket. She just wanted to investigate it, not damage it! After a moment, though, she realized that by pulling in the opposite direction, the pocket sealed closed again. Grinning, her tongue lolling slightly, she unzipped and rezipped the breast pocket several times, eyes bright at the sound and feel.

Kit growled softly with intrigued pleasure, deep in her throat. Here was something to fuel her curiosity for days! Another silver fastener ran up the front of the jacket, and Kit lifted the tab, pulling it along the serrated metal teeth. The sound was different, and the two tracks didn't join together as they had on the pocket. She frowned and cocked her head, pushing the rows of teeth together and jiggling the slide back and forth. They wouldn't close, wouldn't mesh like the others had. She scowled, bringing the zipper to her mouth and testing her teeth lightly on the silvery metal. It didn't give, and tasted vaguely similar to the silver coins she had in her pocket, but not exactly. She nipped the zipper again, just to be sure she hadn't missed something, before setting it in her lap and playing with the pull-tab again, with identical results. Kit had no way of knowing that she had to insert the bottom of the opposite row of teeth into the zipper's slide in order to close the jacket's front.

Snorting with frustration, Kit put the puzzle aside for later and continued her search of Jack's coat. The jacket was lined with a satiny black fabric that reminded Kit of silk as she ran sensitive fingers over it. But a sniff of the interior didn't resemble the smell she associated with the few pieces of ladies' finery she'd seen. Under the now-familiar scent of Jack himself was something darker, oily, smoky. Not like the thing on the hillside - Coyote knew she wouldn't forget *that* scent anytime soon! - but more like the smell of a locomotive with its oiled machinery and sooty smoke.

The lining of the jacket contained a pocket on the left side, and its contents rustled in her fingers as she handled the garment. Kit pulled a small collection of papers from the interior pocket, noting the even, symmetrical stitching in the material. She'd already figured the jacket hadn't been hand-sewn, but the thread confirmed it. She set the jacket on the bed beside her and turned her attention to the pictures she'd pulled from it.

One was obviously a family portrait, though its colors were as sharp and vibrant as though they were right in the room with her. Kit sniffed the picture delicately, wondering at the slightly acrid scent that the image gave off. It was a unpleasant, unnatural smell, and she sneezed involuntarily. Shaking her head, Kit studied the seven people who stared back at her with permanent smiles. A couple in maybe their mid thirties sat at the center of the group, evidently the father and mother of those around them. The woman, dark haired and smiling, held a young towheaded boy, perhaps three or four, on her lap. The man, who was blond, had an infant girl with a smattering of dark curls in his. At least Kit figured it was a girl, as the clothes were a very feminine pink. Three children stood around the family grouping - a young girl with light brown curls, perhaps thirteen or so, beside the father; a dark haired boy of about eleven beside the mother; and a slightly younger boy standing between the parents, his wavy reddish hair an odd contrast to those around him. They all looked to have dressed up for the picture, their clothes seemingly formal, but unlike any dress clothes Kit had seen.

The second picture, also in color and also with the same acrid smell, looked to be another family affair. The subjects were older, however, and there were a lot more of them. Kit realized the second was probably an extended family - the children in the first picture, all grown up and with spouses and kids of their own. The third picture was a closeup of the parents from the first portrait, though they were noticably older. Her hair was streaked with grey, his face now sported spectacles. Their smiles showed off a myriad of laughlines. Kit couldn't help but smile at the pictures as she set them aside - the older couple looked so happy together.

Shaking off her musing, she sorted through the remaining sheets of paper. They were inscribed in a firm hand with names, and Kit wondered if they identified the subjects in the pictures. Before she had a chance to investigate the idea, she noticed the other information on the pages in her hands. Rather detailed information. Favorite foods. Cities. Birthdates. Or at least she assumed they were birthdates, since the first one said "birthday" beside it. But she stopped dead at the one near the bottom that read "12/17/96."

"That has to be a mistake," she growled under her breath. 1896 was still a long way off. She scanned through the other dates. Most had been listed only by the last two years - "6/6/63" or "7/31/56" - but there was a second date, down near the bottom, that read "7/19/1971." Kit's brows furrowed, and she felt the fur of her hackles rise at the base of her neck. She sniffed the paper, wanting to discover that it was fresh, that this was some trick planted by Jack to get back at her and the others. But the ink was too deeply absorbed into the paper and the crease lines too well delineated for it to be recent. Confused, she read the paper's contents again, more slowly. While most of it made sense, there were some things referenced that she'd never heard of before. What was an "Audi"? Or a "condo"? And what in the hell did "computer analyst" mean?

She could have sat and studied the paper for hours, but realized that she still had to get clothes for Jack and meet him back at the bathhouse, hopefully before he got into any more trouble. She gathered up the pictures, put them gently back into their pocket, and laid the jacket out on the foot of the bed. Then she shifted back to human form and left the room, considering what she'd discovered as she hurried down to the boardwalk.

She was sure Jack had an explanation. The question was how to get it from him. She was trying to think of how to address it with him when she heard a commotion down the street, in the direction of the bathhouse.

"Oh, for pete's sake," she sighed, turning towards the noise and knowing instinctively that Jack was at the center of it. "I can't leave him alone for five min--"

She stopped at the sight of him, still dripping water and wearing only his still-muddied pants that were only half fastened. Kit stared for half a second before bursting out in uncontrollable laughter.

Jack noticed the stares he was getting but had more pressing matters to worry about. As he prepared to call for Kit again he heard laughter that he got the feeling would become very familiar to him during his stay in town. Turning sharply toward the sound he almost doubled over in pain. *No sharp turns!* he thought as he hugged his ribs and half jogged toward her.

He tried to say something to her but she was laughing uncontrollably. "What's so funny?" he asked, sure that the laughter was at his expense. Kit tried to put on a straight face but it didn't last very long. The laughter was starting to make him feel self-conscious. It was bad enough half the town was staring at him, he didn't need her laughing about it.

"Stop it already!" he exclaimed turning back to the bathhouse. *I cannot wait until I leave this place.*

"Aw, come on Jack, it's funny," she laughed as she followed him. "What're you doing all wet and only half dressed in the middle of the street."

"Someone never came back with clothes," he bit off. *I really can't wait.*

Kit stopped laughing as she realized she still didn't have any clothes for him. Jack went into the bathhouse, taking the towel Mr. Pierson offered him. Kit didn't hesitate as she followed him though Mr. Pierson looked ready to panic.

"I had other things to do," Kit defended herself.

"Whatever, can I have them, and a little privacy?" he said with a shooing motion.

"I didn't get them yet."

Jack plopped down on the chair holding the rest of his clothes with a loud sigh. "So you spent the last half hour...?"

Kit didn't answer, not that Jack really expected her to. He ran the towel over his head, ignoring the pain from his cut and leaving his hair sticking up in every direction. Kit started to smile again and he shot her a dirty look that finished her off. She doubled over in laughter.

"What were you thinking?" she managed to gasp out.

He remembered his reason for running out into the street. It suddenly seemed much less urgent in the face of her laughter. Did he really want her laughing about him not knowing what day it was? But he was sure it was September. *Everything is weird about this place.*

He sighed. "Can you just get me some clothes?"

Chris watched inadvertently to Chandrika's reaction to the child crying. *Who is this woman?* he thought. Why was she here. Hell what was going on in this town now?! He cocked his hip and rubbed his forehead trying to figure out waht was going on.

Clair had been about to give Mary a scathing retort, the nerve of the woman telling her it wasn`t proper for her to be caring for an infant. Before she could open her mouth to deliver the insults that had been poised on the tip of her tongue Charlie had stumbled into the church. Clair sat stunned as Charlie ranted about the doom of the town and all she had seen, her horror grew as she listened to the other girl beg her to tell the others about the visions. Clair`s relief was a like a physical blow as Nathan demissed Charlie`s little speech as an effect of a afternoon spent in the saloon. She stood from the pew where she was seated, her intention was to sit with Charlie and have a private word with her. As she took a step in the girls direction she noticed Chris Larabee and the woman at his side. She faltered in her next step, how could they have slipped in without me sensing it she thought to herself. The woman had her arms crossed over her chest as if she were trying to protect herself from something, but Clair sensed no danger. The stare the woman fixed on Kitty seemed filled with sadness and longing. She opened her mind trying to read the emotions she saw in the other woman. Her mind touched the woman`s and Clair gave an audible gasp and suprise shown brightly in her eyes.

Chandrika felt Clair probe her mind and let her in. She let her see the visions that plagued her mind. Visions of herself cradling a baby that never was to be after that fateful night when she had swereved off the road avoiding the semi that had lost control, but the collision with the phone pole that had caused her to go into labor 3 months prematurely. Visions of the baby that died in her arms before it even opened it's eyes to gaze at it's mother. Visions of the small little girl Chandrika had when she was a child herself. Visions of Chandrika playing with her daughter. Visions that never came to be because of that night. Chandrika looked down as tears formed and began to role down her cheeks, wishing that it didn't hurt her so much. She hated showing her emotion to her lost child. But this child needed her.

*I can help her. I can feed her at least,* she sent to Clair hoping the girl would let her help.

Annie struggled with the man in front of her, her small frame fighting for it's life. In the corner of her eye she saw her grandfather get smashed in the back of the head and collapse lifelessly to the floor. That distracted her enough that the man who was struggling with her could toss her like a rag doll over his shoulder and against a dark patch in the wall. Annie braced herself for an impact that didn't come, instead it felt like she passed through a velvet covered passage, her momentum slowly until she landed, not gently, but not as hard as she would have against that wall, against a bar bench. Annie shook herself, feeling the hurts she had all over her body, and looked around. Annie didn't recognise this place. *What the hell?* This looked like a wild west bar, like the ones in the old movies of cowboys and indians that her Grandfather used to laugh at. The bartender was looking at her like she was a ghost, and Annie wasn't too sure she wasn't one. The bar looked pretty smashed up, like there had been a little mixup recently. The people in the bar had either noticed her arrival and were staring at her, or were too deep in their drink to notice or care. Annie looked down at her clothes. Dirty and ripped jeans and a bloody blouse. Not something people around here would expect a squaw to wear, she figured. Annie stood as tall as she could, and walked through the swinging doors. Out in the street, people were milling about, there was some commotion in the street as a mostly naked man looked about frantically for something, or someone. Annie smiles softly, this place looks like it's gonna be interesting.

A mind numbing excitement stole over casey as she stood on the board walk opposite the saloon, finally something to watch besides blowing dirt she thought to herself. The fight raging in the saloon had momentarily distracted Casey from her conversation with Gia. Casey`s excitement turned quickly to disappointment as the fight ended just a suddenly as it began. She was about to resume her talk with Gia when she noticed Chris with a woman in tow heading for the church. Casey smiled, something was defiantly brewing in the church and she intended on finding out what it was. Turning to Gia she grabed the other woman`s dress sleeve. "Come on," she urged. Gia hesitated only a moment before she followed the other girl in the direction of the church.

Lounging against a post outside the saloon a man watched with wrapped attention as a young girl practically pulled the Mayfair woman in the direction of the church. He had to admit he was a little suprised that the woman would go near a church. He smiled to himself knowing he was finally within striking distance and ready to carry out the promise to his father. His only hesitation was the black presence that surrounded this town,and the fact that he wasn`t willing to harm innocent people to achieve his goal.

He pushed his large frame from the post and adjusted the tartan that was tossed carefully over his shoulder, the only outward sign marking his heritage. He strode to the livery and retrieved his sleek gray stud. Riding towards the edge of town, he turned his head as he drew even with the church in hopes of getting another glimpse of his prey. Instead a shimmering black mass materialized at the pitch of the church roof. In the next instant it appeared as a man in black perched in a crouch on the roofs edge. A voiced floated on the wind reaching his ears,"Make no mistake Patrick Kirkland your task will not be that easy," a shrill laugh echoed in his ears. Patrick shook his head trying to remove the illusion of sight and sound,but the voice continued. "You will have to deal with me and I promise to lead you on a merry chase, as I did you father before you. The Kirkland`s seem to be a dim witted bunch. I`ve even made it easy for them in the past and yet they still chase their tails. I have no reason to believe you different. After all I will kill you in the end." The voice trailed off. His horse had halted it`s forward progress. Patrick sat watching with a macabre fascination as the figure atop the church transformed into a dozen black ravens and scattered to the winds. A bone chilling wind whipped across his face and he was released from his own paralyzing fear.

Patrick`s horse picked a path up the steep incline. He was more than relieved to be out of the small oppressive town. He need time to weigh his options and gather his frayed nerves. He hadn`t expect the mayfair`s demon to tip it`s hand so quickly. Patrick pulled the horse to a halt at the edge of a patch of scrub oak. A night of fresh air and a star lit sky would clear his thinking. He stood starring at the stark landscape before him, comparing it to the lushness of his Highlands home. With any luck he`d be back there soon he thought to himself.

Gia tried to resist Casey's tugging. She did not want to go into that place. She tried to stall, but Casey would not here of it. "Come on Gia! Somethin's up and I want to know what's goin' on!" stated Casey excitedly.

Gia just glared at the girl. She knew she would raise too much suspicion if she refused to go in the church. So begrudgingly, Gia walked toward the church with Casey. Gia was too distracted to notice she was being watched.

Gia made her way up the steps to the entrance of the church, Casey tugging at her arm the entire way. Just then, a slight chill ran up Gia's back.

She quickly turned behind her...but saw nothing. She was beginning to get a very uneasy feeling. Gia then turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Come on, Gia. What's wrong with ya? Aren't ya the least bit curious to what's goin' on in here," asked Casey curiously.

"Actually, dear, what if this is none of our business," stalled Gia.

"In Four Corners, everything is everbody's business," smiled Casey.

Gia gave her a weak smile in return and took a deep breath. The pair then entered the church.

Kit trotted back over to the bathhouse, a new set of clothes tucked in a bundle under one arm as proof of her quick errand. "I hope they fit," she muttered to herself as she knocked on the bathhouse door. A second later she opened the door and stuck her head inside. "Jack?"

"Back here," came the reply from deeper within the building. Kit slipped quietly into the bathhouse, hoping she wouldn't run into the proprietor. She'd already pushed her luck with him today. Fortunately Mr. Pierson seemed content to stay away from his strange patron, and Kit poked her head around a curtain.

"You decent?" she couldn't help grinning. Jack favored her with a sigh and a long-suffering glare from the chair where he sat, still in his muddy pants. "I brought you some clothes," Kit continued.

"About damn time," Jack growled, reaching out for them. For a split second Kit considered dangling them out of his reach, like a piece of string for a kitten, then realized Jack had been through more than enough already. Besides, she didn't want to antagonize him when she was looking for information. She handed them over and watched as Jack unwrapped the bundle.

"They should fit," she said. "If anything, hopefully they'll be a little big. I figured baggy would be better than unbuttonable."

Jack grunted and nodded, laying out the pieces of clothing. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find that they were all cut in an Old West style. Part of him wanted to rationalize that it was all part of the tourist trap, like the portrait places they had at Magic Mountain where you could get your picture taken in costume. But the rest of him remembered the newspaper. He reached for the shirt and noticed Kit was still standing with her head poked around the curtain. "Do you mind?" he asked peevishly, waving her away.

"Sorry," Kit grinned unrepentantly, and pulled the curtain back into place. "I'll just wait outside, how's that?"

"Fine."

Kit retreated to the boardwalk and leaned against a porch rail, whistling quietly. Her roving eyes tracked activity on the main street: Casey and the Mayfaire woman disappearing into the church; Mr. Bucklin closing up his store for the day; a small flock of black birds soaring skyward. Kit frowned at the sight of the ravens, bothered by them but unable to put her finger on why. *Too many weird things happening around here lately,* she thought, then had to laugh. What was the saying? "May you live in interesting times"? Well, she certainly had that.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye had Kit whipping her head towards the other end of the street, away from the church, towards the saloon. There was no movement on the walk or street in front of the tavern, but Kit was sure she had seen something - or someone - disappearing into the alley next to the saloon. She shifted slightly to scent the wind, wary. No out-of-place smells were carried to her, and she stepped out into the street for a closer whiff. She focused all her attention on the saloon, looking and listening. Had they finally found her? Kit started across the street, every muscle tense.

"Hey, where're you going?" Jack's voice called from behind her. Startled, Kit leaped and spun to face him, eyes wide. Her body wanted to instinctively shift into her were-form, to fight, and she fought it back. It was just Jack on the boardwalk in front of the bathhouse, watching her antics with a puzzled frown as he buttoned up the last of his shirtfront. Kit forced herself to relax and smile at him, coming away from her shift.

"Nowhere," she replied lightly. She cast one last, quick glance over her shoulder at the alleyway before jogging back over to Jack. She cast an appraising eye over him and said, "They fit."

Jack looked down at himself. "More or less," he replied with a shrug. *Except they make me feel like I belong in some Sturges movie or something...* "So now that I'm presentable, do you mind if I get some sleep?"

Kit grinned and gestured grandly towards the boarding house. "Not at all," she said. She fell into step beside him as they walked back to Miss Maggie's. The hot bath seemed to have soothed at least some of his aches, Kit noticed. Now he only looked as if he'd been dragged two or three miles behind a stage. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"I will be when I wake up," Jack replied, telling his stomach to shut up already. "If I tried to eat now, I'd probably pass out in the soup." One side of his mouth quirked up in something that could possibly have been called a smile, if one were feeling generous.

"Well, we can't have that," Kit agreed. "We can get you something a little later." They arrived at the door to Miss Maggie's, and Kit stopped as Jack went to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, then looked back at her.

"Thanks for your help," he said reluctantly. To Kit it sounded like the words were an effort, and she smiled at him.

"You're welcome." She didn't offer anything more. Jack nodded to end the awkward silence, twisting the handle on the door. As he turned to enter, Kit called after him, "By the way, Jack, who *is* Benjamin Wheeler, anyway?"

Jack stopped dead in his tracks. He froze for a minute, then turned slowly to face Kit, who was lounging nonchalantly against the porch post. Judging by her grin, she was obviously pleased by the results of her little bombshell.

Benjamin Wheeler. The name echoed in Jack's head as he slowly turned toward Kit. There were only two ways that she could know that name and neither were very pleasant.

"I guess I know what you were doing for the last half hour," he said with a cold detachment that Kit hadn't seen in him before. She didn't respond so he continued. "What were you doing looking through my things?"

Though she didn't verbally deny or confirm the accusation, Jack could tell he was right about what she'd been doing by the way her grin changed. He was slightly relieved, if she'd just been snooping then he might not be in trouble again already.

They stared at each other, each waiting for his or her question to be answered. Finally Kit said something. "You haven't answered my question yet."

"You should be happy that's not all I haven't done yet," he threatened.

"Is that a threat?" she said with false indignation.

Jack smiled then grabbed her arm and pulled her through the door of the boardinghouse and toward the stairs. "No, it's a warning."

Kit wasn't worried as she 'followed' him. As she'd told Ezra before, she knew where to hit Jack if he was any trouble. They reached his room and he threw open the door. He wouldn't have noticed anything out of place if she hadn't said something. "You blew your cover," he said as he shut the door. "I wouldn't have noticed. You could've gotten away clean. Who do you work for, who sent you?"

Kit didn't know what he was talking about, but hoped he'd let something slip that would explain the papers.

He continued, losing his cool as she looked at him blankly. "Why were you looking at my papers?!"

"I wanted to find out more about you."

"Why?"

'You smelled funny' didn't seem like a good answer so Kit asked her original question. "Who is Benjamin Wheeler?"

Jack's face hardened in anger, willing to play her game. "Who is he to you?"

"Benjamin Lawrence Wheeler, born January 8th, '47. Married Julie Ann Litman in October '68. Had five kids, Ruth Marie, Benjamin Lawrence Jr., Joseph Litman, John William, and Lynn Ann," Kit recited from the papers, watching Jack's expression change. It was a strange mix of hate and relief.

"That's enough," he stopped her. She was just repeating what was on the papers, she didn't have any inside knowledge. "So you were just snooping for the fun of it. Any reason in particular you decided to let me know?"

Kit paused for a moment, knowing he was insulting her intelligence. "The dates don't make sense."

Jack, who'd been starting to feel better about the situation, stopped. *'The dates don't make sense.' Why wouldn't they make sense?* His previous confusion about the date came barreling back at him. *April 28th, 1883.* He hadn't given any thought to the year, thinking it was part of the tourist attraction and more concerned about it being the wrong month. *1883?*

"What year is it?" he asked slowly, gripping both of her arms.

She looked down at his hands digging into her flesh then answered as slowly as he'd asked, "1883."

He released her as thought she'd burned him.

"That's not right," he denied.

"That's what I'm confused about," Kit continued her previous line. "Some of those dates are in the 90's and one said 1971. That's almost a century away."

Jack looked at her like she was insane. "What are you talking about?"

"And what is an Audi, or a computer analyst?" she pressed on as though he hadn't said anything. She wanted some answers and he sounded like he was ready to crack. "It doesn't make sense."

Jack had to agree with her there. "1883," he whispered as sank down on to the bed.

As Kit studied Jack's face something occurred to her. She stepped closer and tried to look him in the eye. "What year do you think it is?"

Jack looked at her and shook his head. "That can't be right."

The room was silent for a full minute as Kit stared at Jack and he held his head in his hands, trying to think. Finally he jumped up from the bed. "This is some kind of weird dream. Sherman did shoot me and I just haven't woken up yet."

"No one shot you," Kit said putting a hand on his arm to stop his frantic pacing. "This isn't a dream."

"Yes, it is," Jack contradicted, his eyes searching for some telltale sign in the room that would prove it was a dream. Strange colors, dancing elephants, anything. It just looked like a room.

"The monster!" he declared. Kit looked at him blankly; she still hadn't heard the whole story of what had happened at the Taylor's. "That's my proof."

Kit released his arm and took a step back. "What monster?" she asked, her voice concerned. Those who knew her would have been surprised to hear her sound so serious.

"The big black bird thing out at the farm. The one that came out of nowhere." Jack waved his arms in the air to demonstrate. "And the voices. The ones in my head. That proves this is a dream, too." He smiled with relief. Suddenly things were making sense again, and that was good. Of course, Sherman had shot him and he was still out cold, and that wasn't so good, but Jack could deal with that after he woke up.

"The big black bird thing," Kit repeated slowly, prompting.

"Yeah," replied Jack easily. Now that this was just a dream, it didn't matter. "It came out of nowhere and whoosh, came after us." He paused. "And then there was the house going up in flames by itself. And that girl's uncle, Buck." Jack frowned, remembering the blood, and the heat from the fire. This was one helluva vivid dream he was having. Talk about your Technicolor and SurroundSound.

Kit stared at him, agape. "That was *you*?" she whispered with sudden realization. Of course it had been him. He had been in Charlie's vision that she, Kit and Clair had shared. The stranger with the baby. The same baby that had been in Clair's arms at the church. Kit had been so addlepated from her ride with Lena and almost getting caught mid-shift by JD that she hadn't put the pieces together. Remembering the vision brought back the stench of the black figure on the hill, the same stench she'd smelled under Lena's terror. The memory of Lena's description of the Dark Man had Kit suddenly wondering if he and the figure on the hill were the same thing. She needed to talk to Clair, Charlie and Lena, right away.

Before Charlie's vision of the town covered in blood came true, too.

She looked at Jack, who was obviously at peace with his conclusions about his surroundings. She considered leaving him with that illusion while she sought out the others. But if Charlie was anywhere near right, Jack couldn't afford to treat the situation like a dream. There was real danger here, real danger that could kill him as thoroughly as it could the rest of the town. But how to make him see that this wasn't a dream?

"So none of this is real, is that what you're saying?" she challenged.

"Yep," Jack replied cockily. He was much more at ease, now that he knew he just had to ride it out until he woke up.

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