Chapter 13

Bryan jogged to the middle of the quiet street and scanned the yellow, sodium lit pavement.  Half a block away, William turned down an alley.  "William!  William Adams!"

The light faded to blue shadows as Bryan followed and entered the alley.  He slowed and his eyes picked out William's silhouette against the light at the far end.  He maneuvered around the trash and down the alley.  "Will you please stop?"

Bryan jerked himself to a halt when he saw William slow and turn.  The bag of food in his left hand, he kept his right loose, ready to slide under his jacket to the gun.  He edged forward.  "You said this smelled good.  You hungry?"  He watched as William turned from him and gazed blankly at the air to his left.  Then, William nodded and reached out a palm.  Bryan set the bag onto it.

He waited, muscles still, as William eased down to the alley floor and dug into the bag.  "Did you stop a fight last night?  Did you kill those men?"

There was no answer except slow chewing noises.

"I saw what you did in the restaurant, back there.  Not the first one, but the other two.  You stopped that fight.  And the woman the night before last.  You saved her, didn't you?  She said you helped her."

Still no answer, just another big bite and more chewing.  Bryan blew out a sigh and stepped back to the opposite wall of the alley.  He'd heard that one of the dead men last night had been shot with his own gun.  And after what he'd seen in the diner, he knew he'd have to be cautious about bringing William in.  It would be safer, easier to convince him than to try to fight him.  "You hear what they're calling you?  The Night Stalker.  Hell, you don't look anything like Darin McGavin."

At that, William looked up.  "The actor.  That old TV show."

Contact, finally.

"That's right.  Yeah," Bryan said.

He saw confusion squint William's eyes.  "Why?"

A snort jumped out of Bryan's throat.  "I don't know.  People are crazy."

"You're telling me."

Bryan cocked his head at William, slowly realized it was a joke.  He smiled, pushed off from the wall and left one hand at his belt, by his handcuffs.  "William.  I want you to come with me."

He saw a frown grow on William's face, then melt into blankness.  William turned to the end of the alley, stood up sharply.  Bryan pulled his hand from the cuffs and drew his handgun.

"I have to go," William said.

Bryan stood firm, arms level.

William looked from Bryan to the dirty walls of the alley.  It was a disconcerting habit, as if they were in a room full of people that Bryan couldn't see.  William nodded again at the empty air.  "They say you should come." 

Bryan watched a moment as William walked down the alley, then started after.  "Stop."

"You won't shoot me," William said.

"Don't push your luck."

"Not unless I threaten you.  They told me."  Bryan stood there, gun still level as William turned and jogged away.  The man was right.  Bryan had no interest in shooting him.  But what the hell was he supposed to do?  He put the gun away and ran after.  Ahead of him, William slapped one hand down on top of a dumpster that blocked the end of the alley and vaulted over it.  With a grunt, Bryan clambered up, swung his legs over and dropped to the pavement on the other side, landing face to face with William. 

The man's face was slack.  For a moment their eyes locked, then William looked over Bryan's shoulder, stared at the empty space down the street.  The corner of the man's mouth tugged up and he let out a short chuckle.  "Gotta get the bad guy," William said. 

Bryan could only stare as William ran down the next alley.

 *

The Hunter raced ahead as William increased his pace and The Caretaker lagged behind with the police detective.  The man's voice chased him.  "Where did you hear that?" 

William didn't slow until he reached the next block.

Across the street, a couple walked arm in arm, her dark skin a contrast against his light.  Behind them, two young men prowled at a discreet distance.  The Advisor lifted an arm, pointed at them and William saw through their clothing to the tattoos etched deeply in their outlines.  One man's shoulder bore a cross with a single drop of blood at its center.  The other, his hair only thin stubble, had a swastika on his neck. It took a moment for William to realize that he was seeing the tattoos only through the fog.  His vision adjusted and he saw that the original ink had been covered and disguised by other, more elaborate tattoos.

The Advisor's arm swung.  Ahead of the couple, two more young men hid down the street.  Before the fog enveloped them, William saw their clothing.  One wore a brown military style t-shirt, and the other had heavy, black motorcycle boots on his feet. 

"This just keeps getting better," the detective said, right behind him.

William took a deep breath, focused on the tightness of his diaphragm to push the fog back enough to think.  Why this man?  The voices had pushed him to be at the diner, had said that there was someone there, and for a moment he had thought it was the young woman.  She was the first person he’d ever met who could also see and hear the voices.  But instead, they had pointed him to this man.  Why?  The memory of the fire two years ago was almost too sharp for William to touch.  He was sure it would be worse for the detective.  But, if this man was supposed to help him protect Jessica somehow, he would go along with the voices' silence.  He let the fog sink back into his thoughts and nodded at the gun in the detective's hand.  "You won't need that.  Protect the couple."  He started directly for Boots and Brownshirt.

The two racists emerged from their perch in the shadows and stepped in the couple's path.  The man and woman hesitated and began to cross the street away from the threat.  Neither they, nor any of their attackers noticed William until he cut between them.  As William brushed past, the woman jumped and pulled her partner further away, toward the alley where Bryan started out to them.

The Hunter waited for William by Boots and Brownshirt.  William stopped directly before the first man.  The Hunter swiped a series of hits through Boot's outline and it fell away from the physical body, in reaction to the upcoming blow to each target.  Eyes, neck, ribs, knee, foot and finally groin.  The outline sprawled on the ground, waiting for the body to join it.  William simply watched the action and the lingering targets on Boots as the man sneered at him.  "What?"

From behind, William heard The Advisor.  One of them split off.  At The Advisor's touch, William saw Cross duck behind a car to his rear and begin to circle around to Bryan's rear. 

Boots stepped up, almost nose to nose with William.  He blinked away the fog for a moment and saw that it was more nose to throat.  William stood nearly half a head taller than his opponent.  In the brief moment of clarity, he saw how foolish it was for the other man to step so close, to puff out his chest, leave himself so open.  William pulled the fog back over his eyes. 

"Wha..."  The little skinhead didn't finish the word before the fingers of William's left hand were in his eyes.  The head snapped back and William swung the side of his right fist into Boot’s neck.  Boots flailed his arms as he started to topple to the right, his ribcage jolting directly into William's left elbow.  William finally bobbed first up then down to stomp his right foot onto the inside of Boots' knee.  The man toppled faster toward the pavement and William stood calmly, stomped his foot on top of Boots' instep and kept his foot there.  The heavy leather footwear that Boots wore was no protection as his body and leg fell to the side, and his foot stayed trapped in place.  Boots' ankle snapped loudly as the joint broke.  The man sprawled to match his waiting outline and William released the foot and stomped down again, onto his groin.

William turned to Brownshirt.  The Hunter paced around the man and highlighted the knife at the man's back, drew the red shadow of the weapon around and into the man's stomach.  William shook his head.  "No.  We warn the others."  He said to the voices.

The Hunter looked away from the target to William, then to Bryan and the couple.  He outlined Brownshirt's collar and William nodded.

Close behind you, The Hunter said.

Brownshirt's hand dug awkwardly at his back and pulled the knife out too wide in an ice pick style stab.  Even without help, William could have stopped it.  An easy block and a rotation of his wrist left the knife resting weakly in Brownshirt's grip.  William reached underneath with his free hand and simply twisted the wrist a few more degrees to let the knife fall into his waiting palm.  Without the knife there to secure it, William's blocking arm slid free of Brownshirt's wrist and latched onto the man's collar.

Artlessly, William hurled the knife toward Bryan and the couple.