This is your future and your present. This is a story that was never meant for your ears, a story that never should have been told. Hear it now, and take heed. This is a message that has been left for you; listen to it. Truth is contained in the words that follow, truth and wisdom. Sown among the good of science is an equal amount of evil. Sown among the evils of Man are equal amounts of good. Science is not a god, and Man is not a devil. All the same...history often makes us wonder.
Mistrust what you can see. What is true may seem false, and what is not may seem to be true.
Sometimes, I no longer think that I know what is true.
I can see his face as clearly as in the dream, I can see it in front of me. Just like one of those Arabian Nights people...the Arabs. I suppose that's not nice of me, not fair of me...racist. I shouldn't be. It's bad to be racist, very bad.
But at any rate, I can see his face. I don't know his name. I don't know which of the Three he belongs to. I don't know if he's found anyone yet. I don't know so many things...but all I know is, he's running, he's hiding, and he needs me. I saw him in the dream, and he needs me now.
Why do I have these dreams? I'm not one of Them...I'm only a normal human. Why do I have the dreams, then? Is this a curse given to me...or a job that God is entrusting to me? Whichever it is, it's confusing. Somebody help me before my brain explodes.
"Troy, is that you?" a female voice called out as the door clicked shut in the dead silence.
"Yeah...it's me..." groaned Officer Johnson's voice.
A redhead, lithe and a bit short, came up to the man, who was shuffling down the entranceway to the house. "What have you been doing so late at night? I've been so worried about you..."
"Another late operation? Why don't you tell me these things?"
"No-I...no...I had to get air. Fresh air..."
"Troy, what were you doing? Was it something at work? Are there problems now? I thought you were the star officer..."
"It's not the force that's giving me...problems. It's...things."
"Things? What kind of things?"
"Well...things. Stress. I'm under a lot of stress, Ashley! Please...can you let me just relieve my stress, make life a little easier?"
"I didn't marry you to see this happen, Troy. I love you, I don't want to see you like this." She moved in closer, and slid her arms around him, looking up into his eyes. "Please, Troy, tell me. I don't care what it is, no matter what, you can tell me. Please."
Troy paused, and slid his right hand around her. He ran his left hand through her shoulder-length hair, and a tiny smile cracked his lips. "You're so beautiful like that...no wonder I married you."
"Nice try, lover boy," Ashley smiled back. "Nice try. Fine, I'll leave it at that for now...just...I don't like knowing that you're in trouble of some sort."
"Don't worry about me. It'll all be over in a week. Trust me on this one. It's almost over. I love you."
"I love you too, Troy."
He bent his head down, and the couple kissed for a brief moment. Troy smiled, and then stepped backward, letting her arms slide away. He moved to the side, and walked up the stairs, glancing back at her. The woman shook her head, and moved to the living room windows in front. She glanced out, and murmured softly to herself. There was something wrong with Troy. Undoubtedly. Ashley Johnson knelt by the window, and began to softly whisper prayers.
There was a faint hum as the motorized automatic prepared its volley from its strategic position: pressed against the head of Sam Browning. The owner of the gun sneered as he looked Browning straight in the face. The hitman's eyes were open and motionless, staring back at the man who held the gun. He pulled it back, aiming directly between Browning's eyes. He moved to a more comfortable position, and opened his mouth.
"Tough luck, Sam," he gloated. "I've got you for good this time. And that's a nice wad of cash that my buddy's giving to me. Sorry about that. I think your luck just ran out. I'll keep you around, because you're alive. You're useful, at least to the guys offering the bounty. So let's make this easy. I have you at gunpoint, if you move, you die. And I still get my bounty."
"All right, I give up," Sam said, standing. "You beat me this time. But just watch out, I will be coming after you."
"No need to worry about that," said the bounty hunter, standing, gun still trained on Sam. "Now, come with me. I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Sam nodded, and humbly followed. The man paused for a moment, and glanced up at the sky. "Such a beautiful scene...all of those colors...I want the world to end like that, don't you?"
When he turned back, Sam had vanished. The man started to cuss. Those words were the final ones that he spoke. A knife-thrust is a simple way to kill someone.
Dawn broke on the crimson scene.