BRIMSTONE
VS Episode #207
"In a Lonely Place"
Written by Joel Rauch



Ezekiel Stone was seated at a small table in Mickey’s Sports Bar, 
near the back of the main room.  He sat with his back to the wall, 
watching the room.  A paranoid person might have chosen the same 
location, fearing an attack from behind, perhaps being shot in the back 
like Wild Bill Hitchcock on that fateful day he drew aces over eights.  
The only attack Ezekiel feared was one to his eyes, twin wounds that 
could send him back to Hell.  And so he watched the room, not afraid, 
but always aware, as any man would when the odds against him were 
eighty-odd against one.

A TV screen that was projected against the wall dominated the 
front of the room.  At least eight feet high, larger than life faces 
flashed across it as an announcer reviewed who would be playing in 
tonight’s All-Star Game.  Ezekiel watched, recognizing most of the 
names.  In the last year, he’d had time to catch up on some of the 
sports he’d missed, but the odd hours he worked didn’t always allow for 
games.

Thurston Bristol came into the room, looking around.  Ezekiel 
caught his eye, and Thurston made his way over to the table.  They 
exchanged a greeting and a handshake before Thurston seated himself.  

“It’s good to sit down,” Thurston said.  “I’ve been running
around all day, doing errands.  Sorry I’m running late.”

“Hey, no problem, the game hasn’t started yet.  Glad you made 
it.”

A waitress approached.  “Hi, can I get you something to drink?”  
Thurston ordered a beer, and Stone ordered a refill.  The waitress 
disappeared.  

“So how’s Sarah doing?”  Ezekiel wondered.

“She’s playing in a summer league.  I think she’s getting tired 
of baseball though.  Her father told me that she’d been talking about 
becoming a doctor.”

“She’s still young.  If you’d told me sixteen years ago that I 
would be where I am today, I would have thought you were crazy.”

Thurston smiled.  “Things never work out like we hope, do they?”  

“Life is full of surprises.”

The waitress returned with their drinks.  “Just in time,” Zeke 
said.  “There he is.”

“And now,” the announcer on the TV said, “To throw out the first 
pitch, one of the greatest hitters in the history of baseball, the most 
recent player to have a season average over .400... Ted Williams!”

“To Ted Williams,” Ezekiel and Thurston chorused, clinking their 
glasses together.  

“Helluva a hitter,” Thurston said.  

“Yep,” Ezekiel agreed.  They watched the gigantic screen for a 
few moments, sharing a comfortable silence.

“Mr. Stone,” Thurston began hesitantly.  “The last time I saw 
you, some very odd things happened.”  Ezekiel looked tense.  “That boy 
I saw in the theater attacked Sarah and me in my car.  And you stopped 
him.”

“I didn’t know it was you,” Zeke said.  “I would have done the 
same for anybody.”

“And what happened to him after Sarah and I drove away?”  

“He was taken away,” Zeke told him, hoping that that would be 
enough.

“By who?  I checked with the police.  The only thing they had 
reported around that time was some crazy act the theater performed 
before showing Star Wars.  Some parents thought it was too violent, it 
frightened their kids.”

“Strange,” Stone replied.

“It gets stranger.  I was able to talk to some of the witnesses.”  
He smiled.  “I still have many friends in the system here.  Anyway, 
they were able to describe the two men involved in the ‘act’.”

There was a moment of silence.

“The theater manager, Mary Chaine, disappeared that night.  The 
boy I noticed, he turned out to be named Gus Chaine, the same name as 
the boy who died in 1984.  He hasn’t been seen since either.”  He 
locked eyes with Ezekiel.  “If you’re in some kind of trouble, Zeke, 
I’d like to help.”

“Thurston...” he said, unsure of how to respond.  “It’s a long 
story, and I’d rather not get into it.”

“Is there anything I can do?  As I mentioned, I still have many 
friends all over this town.”

Zeke studied his friend carefully.  Thurston was someone he could 
relate to.  They’d both grown up in the boom after World War 2, a happy 
optimistic time.  But Thurston had taken a different path, starting a 
family that now reached into its third generation.

And, honestly, Thurston had twenty years more life experience 
than he did.  Zeke was aware that he had looked up to him as a father 
figure during his experience with Brian Reed.  That relationship had 
mellowed into their current friendship, and he was happy with it.  To 
bring Thurston into the circle of people who knew his true mission 
would not only put Thurston at risk, but also change the very nature of 
their friendship.  

Father Horn spoke to him almost with reverence.  He felt that 
Ezekiel had verified the existence of God, and the confirmation of his 
life’s work made Ezekiel very important in his eyes.  It was sometimes 
too much to take, and he realized guiltily that he had avoided seeing 
Father Horn for the last few months.  That was something he could 
remedy, and he pledged to visit him this week.

Nina Chow had also taken the information too far, and ended up 
dead for it.  Fellow law officers like Detective Kane and Sheriff Valis 
had required more convincing, but handled the revelations well.  
Perhaps Thurston Bristol would be in that category.

But Ezekiel didn’t want to risk it.  “Thank you,” he replied, 
with no hesitation at all.  “But everything is fine.” 

“Okay,” Thurston said simply.  “Did I tell you Marla is pregnant 
again?  Sarah’s going to have a baby brother or sister!”

“Congratulations,” Ezekiel said, relieved that the subject had 
changed.

				#

It was a beautiful day.  The sun was shining in the cloudless 
sky, and the California air was warm.

The yacht floated peacefully on the Pacific.  It was medium 
sized, just under 10 meters long.  Stenciled neatly across the bow was 
the name Lady Luck.  There was no one above deck, but a boom box there 
played a loud, fast beat.  

The music went silent, and the boat was still for a moment.  From 
the cabin below, a tall attractive woman wearing a bikini walked out 
onto the deck.  Cybil, owner of the boat, looked around the ocean.  No 
land was visible. 

She stretched, raising her arms toward the clear blue sky.  Her 
lover, Nate, climbed up the stairs just enough to 
watch her.  Although she was facing away from him, she sensed his 
presence.  Her knees stayed locked as she reached her open hands 
forward, then down.  She placed her palms flat on the floor, and looked 
up thorough her legs to catch Nate’s eye.

“Baby, why do you tease me like that?”

“Who, me?” Cybil replied smiling, still watching him upside down.  

“You know I need an hour to recover.”

“Hmm...” she said, standing up.  Cybil turned to him and reached 
her hands out.  “Come here.”  They embraced, and kissed passionately.  

				#

Another vessel, the Pride of the Yankees, held position on the 
horizon.  The captain watched the two lovers with his binoculars.  When 
he was content, he lowered them and turned to the waiting crew.  “Let’s 
go,” he told them.

His crew moved to their positions precisely.  Val, up in the 
wheelhouse, triggered the powerful engines.  They roared into life, and 
the craft tore into the waves.

				#

Cybil pulled away from Nate.  She kept her left arm around him, 
but her right slithered downward.  A disappointed look appeared on her 
face.  “You really are going to make me wait an hour, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, babe, it just works that way.”

“Well... I guess I should work on my tan anyway.  We’ve got all 
day together.”  She stepped away from him, and opened a storage locker.  
Cybil took a lawn chair out and unfolded it.  “Want to spread lotion on 
my back?”

“I could be persuaded,” Nate said.

“It’s in the medicine cabinet, would you get it?”

“Your wish is my command,” he replied, performing a quick bow 
before he disappeared downstairs.

Cybil crouched in front of the boom box, ejecting the CD.  She 
selected a new disk from the case, and placed it into the CD player.  
The music began loudly, and she quickly turned the volume to a medium 
level.

She kneeled on the lawn chair, tucking her long hair aside.  She 
laid down on her stomach, exposing her well tanned back to the sun.  
Cybil reached back to undo the top of her bikini, and as she did, 
Nate’s strong hand grabbed her arm.

“Please, my lady, the pleasure would be mine.”

Cybil giggled.  “Such service.”

Nate untied the knot with a flourish, then straddled her.  He 
leaned into her, kissing the exposed back of her neck.  

“Nate, you’re blocking my sun,” she warned him.

“Yes, dear,” he said, kissing her once more before sitting back 
up.   He sprayed a generous amount of lotion into his hand, and then 
pressed it to her back.

“Oh!” Cybil exclaimed.  “That’s cold!”

“Sorry, dear,” Nate said, a grin spreading across his face.  He 
rubbed the lotion into her tanned skin.  She purred with pleasure as he 
kneaded his hands into her shoulders.

				#

“Kill the engines,” the captain ordered.  The sound died away at 
once.  He withdrew a gun from his holster, and screwed a silencer into 
the barrel.  

He aimed carefully at the man on board the Lady Luck, feeling the 
rise and fall of the boat.  His breathing slowed, becoming synchronized 
with the motion of the waves.  An expression of calm was on his face as 
he squeezed the trigger.

				#

Blood sprayed across Cybil’s back.  She sighed.  “That’s a lot 
warmer, Nate.”  Nate’s body froze where it was, straddling her.

The other boat pulled silently along side.  Its shadow covered 
the two lovers.  “Nate,” Cybil said, “You’re blocking my sun again.”  
There was no response, and she turned, repeating his name.  

His body fell over, landing on the deck with a thud.  She looked 
up at the shadow, seeing three men looking at her.  She sat up, and 
screamed as she saw Nate’s body lying on the deck, blood pooling around 
his head wound.

She jumped up, grabbing for her top that lay on the lawn chair.  
She wrapped it over her exposed breasts and backed away from the other 
ship.

Captain Henry Morgan and two of his crew jumped down onto the 
Lady Luck.  Val was the largest of the three, over 210 centimeters tall 
and powerfully muscled.  The other crewman was below average height, 
and carried a rope to lash the floating boats together.  Both crewmen 
were dressed in loose shorts and carried guns and knives on their hips.  
Their bare chests contained at least a dozen tattoos that Cybil could 
see.  

“Search the boat,” the captain ordered.  Even before he issued 
his command, Cybil recognized his rank by the air of authority that he 
carried.  He was average height, and appeared to be in his mid 30s.  
His skin was well tanned from the time spent on the ocean.

He approached Cybil.  Her look of terror was the exact opposite 
of his expression.  “Good afternoon,” he said.  “Collect anything you 
need quickly.  You’ll be joining us now.”

“You killed Nate!”  Cybil swung her right hand at him, intending 
to slap him.  He raised his own hand to block, and then gripped her 
elbow.  “No!” she yelled.  His eyes flashed with hellfire, and she 
jerked her head in surprise.

The captain looked down at her top, held in place by her left 
arm.  He plucked at the loose string, pulling it free.  He held it up 
in front of her face, the gentle sea breeze causing it to flutter 
slowly.  “You won’t be needing this,” he leered, tossing it over the 
side of the boat.

“No,” she yelled, “Let go, you bastard!”

“I love the feisty ones,” Morgan said, throwing her over his 
shoulder.  “Siphon the tanks, and take anything we can use,” he ordered 
the crewman still on deck.  With that, he climbed the ladder that had 
been lowered from his vessel, ignoring the beating that Cybil was 
trying to inflict on him.

The bikini top floated peacefully on the ocean for a moment, 
oblivious to the screams of its former owner, before falling beneath 
the Pacific waves.



	I was a cop...
	Then my wife was raped.
	I caught the guy who did it, and I killed him.
	(Bang, bang, bang)
	Two months later I died.
	I went to hell.
			(Evil laughter)
	113 of the most vile creatures escaped.
			They think they’ll beat the Devil.
			Nobody beats me.
	So, how am I supposed to send them back?
			The eyes are windows to the soul.
			Destroy the eyes, and the damned get a 
			one-way ticket back home to Hell.
			But it’s not hell you should be scared of...
			It’s losing your second chance of life on
			earth.
	Time to give the Devil his due.



ACT ONE


An airplane roared overhead.  Ezekiel Stone looked up at it for a 
moment before entering St. Rose’s Catholic Church of Hawthorne.  

The parish was cool inside.  The July sun filtered through its 
many windows, lighting it nicely.  However, the aesthetic qualities of 
this old church were lost on the man Ezekiel was here to see.  

There were three people inside, one lighting a candle and two 
others engaged in conversation.  Stone spotted Father Cletus Horn, and 
was surprised to see that he recognized the man talking to him.  

He approached the two black men, considering the problem before 
him.  Generally, in a situation like this, he would make eye contact 
with the person he was visiting.

How do you make eye contact with a blind man?

Father Horn had everything under control.  He cocked his head 
slightly, listening to the pattern of footsteps.  “Mr. Stone?  Is that 
you?”

“Father Horn, it’s good to see you again.”

“Welcome, welcome.  I’d like to introduce you to one of our newer 
members.  This is Apollo Law.  Mr. Law, I’d like to you to meet Mr. 
Stone.”

“Actually,” Ezekiel said, “we’ve met before.”

“That little diner, wasn’t it?” Apollo said.  The only thing that 
dampened Law’s appearance as a businessman was the gold chain he wore 
around his neck. 

“Right,” Ezekiel confirmed.  

“The one near your hotel?  The food’s not bad there, although I 
couldn’t comment on the decor,” Father Horn said.  

“Father, if you’ll excuse me,” Apollo Law said, “I’ve got a 
meeting to get to.  I’ll be here for services though.”

“Thank you,” Father Horn replied warmly.  Apollo nodded 
acknowledgement to Ezekiel before leaving.

“He’s a good man,” Father Horn said to Stone.  “He’s very active 
in the community here.”

“Did you know him in New York also?”

“Apollo?  No.  But what brings you here today?  Is there anything 
I can do to help you in your ‘work?’”

“No, everything is fine.  I’m not after anyone right now.  I was 
just wondering about you, and how things were turning out for you here.  
Are things running well in your parish?”

A smile burst across Father Cletus Horn’s face.  “Quite well, in 
fact.  I really believe we are beginning to make a difference in the 
community.  Attendance is up, and we’re sponsoring a local little 
league team with the pooled support of several local businesses.”

“That’s great.  It’s important to make a difference.”

“Ezekiel, may I ask you a personal question?”  

“Of course.”

“Have you contacted your wife?”

Stone hung his head.  He seated himself in a pew, and the priest 
joined him.  “Father, one of the earliest friends I made here in LA was 
murdered.  I told her about the escaped souls, and she died because of 
it.  You, you were attacked here in your own church by one of them.”

“It was nothing, Ezekiel.  A few scratches were a small price to 
pay for the lives of two women that night.”

“Roz has already been threatened by one of the other damned 
souls, a very powerful one.  It’s better that she doesn’t know that I’m 
here, at least for now.”

Father Horn laid a comforting hand on Ezekiel’s shoulder.  “You 
carry a heavy burden.  Don’t think she would be happy to share it with 
you, if she could?”

“I don’t know, Father.  I don’t know.”

				#

The three women were talking quietly among themselves when the 
rattle at the lock came.  Cybil and Dorothy scampered back to their own 
beds, hiding their naked bodies under their sheets.  Michelle turned 
her back to the door, pretending to be asleep.  

The deadbolt clicked back, and then the lock in the handle.  The 
door swung out, and Val stepped in.  He surveyed the three women.  

Please, not me, Cybil prayed silently.  Val was a large man, in 
many respects, and rough.  She still had bruises from where he’d hit 
her the last time he’d forced himself upon her.  She watched him from 
the corner of her eye, trying not to be obvious about it.  

“Eeny, meany, miny, moe,” Val said, his voice loud in the quiet 
room.  He pointed to each woman as he finished the children’s rhyme.  
“...Let him go, eeny.  Meany.”

Cybil relaxed, knowing she would be passed over this time.  
“Miny.” That was Dorothy.  “Moe.”

Michelle still had her back turned to the door, her red hair 
lying next to her on the pillow.  She stayed there, not moving.  Val 
lowered his pointing finger, and called to her.  “Hey.  Red.”  She 
twitched her head as she realized she had been chosen.   “Come here.”

Michelle didn’t move.  Val raised his voice, “Come here, I said.”  
When there was no response, he crossed the room to her bed and punched 
her in the ear.  She cried out, and raised a hand to her wound.  Val 
grabbed her arm, and yanked her from the bed.  

On the ground, he kicked her in the stomach.  Val looked to 
Dorothy, then Cybil.  “Unless one of you wanted to take her place?”  
Dorothy rolled to face the wall, ignoring what was going on.  Cybil 
looked away pointedly.  Val dragged the whimpering Michelle out the 
door, locking the deadbolt behind him.  

In the silent room, they heard Michelle’s protests get fainter as 
she was taken up on deck.  There was silence for a moment, and then two 
gunshots.  

The odds of getting out of here alive were slim, Cybil realized.  
The chances of being rescued weren’t good either.  If I want to 
survive, she thought, I’ll have to escape on my own.  She closed her 
eyes and began to think.  

				#

It was almost as if he could see the street in front of him.  

He had a map in his head, and knew just where the dips and bumps 
were on the sidewalk.  His destination was the little store on the 
corner.  The church had an account there, which kept him from fumbling 
with money.  Truly, he missed his vision, but the Lord had given him so 
many other pleasures to make up for it.  The warm sun, the smell of 
popcorn, the cool breeze.  The beauty of God’s creations were all 
around him, and if he was unable to enjoy them in one aspect, he would 
take them as he was still able and praise the good Lord.

He needed to get away from the church for a few minutes.  The 
moral problem was still gnawing at him.  Rosalyn Stone had come to him 
and confessed that she had felt Ezekiel’s presence.  Was he forbidden 
from revealing that to Ezekiel?   Ezekiel Stone was dead, and surely 
the injunction against breaking privilege applied only to living 
people.

Besides, from a certain point of view, Ezekiel Stone was doing 
God’s work, just as he was.  Reuniting with his wife would certainly 
improve his morale, which would certainly get God’s work done quicker.  

The warm sunlight faded from his skin.  Perhaps the sun had gone 
behind a cloud.  Or perhaps God knew the wrongness of his decision, and 
was gently nudging him.

If only he could talk to a superior, get a second opinion.  But 
he could not share the key point, that Ezekiel Stone had confirmed the 
existence of God.  It was a difficult decision.  

Bang!

A loud noise startled him.  A firecracker, maybe?  Of course 
there were many around, so recently after Independence Day.

Then he realized that he could no longer hear the street around 
him.  He could not hear anything at all.

In an appropriately titled blind panic, he tried to get his 
bearings.  His left hand brushed a wall, and he leaned against it, 
taking comfort in this beacon against the darkness.

He strained to hear, but there was only the sound of his 
breathing.  He needed help, he knew.  

“Can anyone hear me?” he asked, his voice sounding quite loud in 
the silence.  “My name is Father Horn, and I’m blind.  I need to be 
guided back to my church.”

“I can hear you quite well,” a male voice responded.

Praise to the Lord, he thought.  My hearing is just fine.  “Thank 
you, sir.  My church is just down the block.  Would you help me back to 
it?”

“Can’t you see it from here?” the man asked.

“No, I’m blind,” Father Horn repeated.  

“That’s too bad.  Would you like to see again?  We could make a 
deal.”

The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees more.  There was a 
faint smell about this man, a smell of... brimstone?  “Might I ask your 
name, sir?”

“You know who I am, Cletus.  Ezekiel Stone works for me.  Which 
brings me to my point.  It has come to my attention that Rosalyn Stone 
is seeking her dear departed husband.  If you would pass that 
information on to our mutual friend, I would be very grateful.”

“Get behind me, Satan!” he pronounced forcefully.  

“You could see again if you did me this favor, Cletus.”

Dear God, he prayed silently, protect me from your fallen angel.  
My blindness is part of your plan, and I will follow it to the best of 
my abilities.  “The Lord is my shepherd,” Father Horn began.  He stood 
up from the wall.

“Your God could do this for you if he wanted to.  But he won’t.  
He’s weak, and old.  Help me, and I will help you, Cletus.”

“Never!” he said firmly.  “He restoreth my soul.”  He knew which 
direction the church was, slightly downhill.  The gentle slope always 
made returning to God’s house easier than leaving it.

“If you change your mind, just do as I asked.”

“I will fear no evil, for thou art with me,” Father Horn 
continued, walking down the street, unafraid now.  As he distanced 
himself from the Prince of Lies, his hearing returned to normal.  The 
familiar sound of a jet passed over him.

He would never break his vows and do the Devil’s work.  Rosalyn’s 
statements to him were private, and not to be shared with anyone.  That 
was why he never really intended to tell Ezekiel.  The dilemma had been 
academic, really.

Really, he told himself.

				#

It was a wooden match, the strike anywhere kind.  There was a 
saucer of water on the table, and in the center was a spot of candle 
wax which held the match vertical.  Ezekiel stared at the tip, the 
pattern of red, white and blue.  He focused his thoughts on it, and 
pictured fire in his mind.  

Nothing happened.

He summoned a picture of an atomic explosion into his mind.  A 
similar explosion had occurred at Nagasaki, Japan shortly before he was 
born.  He pictured the flames igniting the tip of the match.

The match stubbornly refused to light.  

He reached a finger out to it.  He rested his digit on the match 
head, and concentrated on raising his temperature.

With a sigh of relief, the match flared into a flame.  It burned 
quickly and brightly, fulfilling its destiny.  Buster, the cat he had 
adopted months earlier, twitched his ears at the sound.  He moved from 
his favorite square of sunlight by the window, and padded over to 
Stone, rubbing against his leg.  Stone ignored the cat, watching 
soberly as the match burned down into the water.  

When the last flame was extinguished, Stone removed it and placed 
a fresh match in the same place.  Again he focused on it...

It wouldn’t light.  

Strike anywhere, he thought, imagining sandpaper in his head.  He 
tried to picture the two rubbing together, and the fire which would 
result.  

Still nothing.

He leaned closer to the match, positioning his eyes fifteen 
centimeters in front of it.  He took a calming breath.  He visualized 
the fires of Hell that had tormented him for fifteen years.

Flames blossomed from the match head.

He sat up, smiling.  He’d done it!  He inhaled the smell of 
victory, phosphorus and sulfur.  It seemed stronger than it should, 
oddly enough.

From behind him, he heard a familiar low chuckle.  “You looked 
like you needed help.”

“Damn it,” Stone muttered. “I almost had it.”

“No,” the Devil said pityingly, “you weren’t even close.  You’ve 
reached the limits of your abilities.  Getting yourself hot and 
bothered, well, that’s something, isn’t it?  But you can’t go any 
farther.”

“I don’t believe you.  You’re the Prince of Lies.  Hart could do 
it, and he was with you less time than I was.”

“Very logical, Mr. Stone.  Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m right.  
That’s the fun thing about reverse psychology.  Some people are 
convinced that my way is evil, and therefore the opposite of what I say 
must be the moral thing to do.”  He leaned closer to Stone.  “If I tell 
you I ignited that match, I plant a seed of doubt in your mind.  You’ll 
fail the next time, and it’s a self reinforcing loop.”

“So I did do it?”

The Devil grinned, but said nothing.  

“Look, teach me how to do these things.  It’ll make it easier to 
send your ‘lost children’ home.”  

“Hmmm... should I make your job easier?  No, I don’t think so.  
What makes you think you are the first or only hunter I sent after my 
‘lost children?’  There are many who would love the opportunity you 
have.”

“What?”

“I’ve quite fond of you, Mr. Stone, just like...” The Devil 
looked around.  Buster was watching them, clearly not thrilled about 
the visitor.  “Take your cat, for example.”  Buster yelped as he found 
himself floating in the air.  “If he fell out the window, would it 
bother you?”

“Put him down,” Ezekiel demanded.  

“You’ve had other cats.  You can get another quite easily.  Why 
is this one so special?”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

Buster fell from his position in the air.  He twisted, and landed 
gracefully on his feet.  A split second later, he was a brown and white 
blur as he raced away from his malefactor.

“I take it you’re not a cat person?” Ezekiel asked.  “How about a 
tip to point me in the right direction?”

“Very well,” agreed the Devil.  He crossed his arms, and nodded 
his head quickly.  Poof!  The Devil now had a peg leg, a hook for a 
hand, and an eye patch.  His clothes changed to become loose pants and 
shirt, cinched tightly at the waist by a belt that held a holstered gun 
on one hip and a sword on the other.

The garish outfit amused Stone.  “Halloween isn’t for a few 
months yet.”

“I prefer the term Devil’s Night, since you mentioned it,” the 
Devil said.  

“So you’re a pirate,” Stone said, still smirking.  “You look like 
a very stereotypical pirate.  Where’s the parrot?”

“The parrot was a figment of Robert Louis Stevenson imagination.  Who 
wants parrot crap on their shoulder?”

“Good point.  So... where should I go?”

The Devil made a disgusted face.  “Where should you go?  Let me 
think, where to find a pirate... Kansas?”

“Boy, you’re in rare form today.”  

“Thank you, I’ve had a particularly enjoyable morning.  Now get 
going.”

Ezekiel got going.



ACT TWO


Roz hated packing.  There were always so many decisions.  The 
suitcases never wanted to close when she was finished either.  

It had been fifteen years since she had fled New York.  On the 
excuse of going back to school, she had moved out here in the summer of 
1984, knowing she would not return.  Her mother still lived there, a 
little north of the city.  The only time she’s seen her since the move 
was Christmas a few years ago, when she’d come out to LA.  

There was a small knot in her stomach.  There were so many 
questions that she had, and going out there was the way she hoped to 
find peace.  She’d called ahead to Attica State Prison, and planned to 
visit an inmate there.  

Thomas Logan was the man serving 25 to life for killing her 
husband.  She’d seen him on the news after Zeke stopped coming home, 
and she’d been there in court when he’s pled guilty.  Her hate, which 
had burned brightly for a long time, had now been displaced, at least 
temporarily, by questions.  

Was Ezekiel Stone really dead? 

There was a thrill at the adventure she was about to go on.  
Maybe she was getting to old to be doing this.  Did Nancy Drew’s mother 
ever solve mysteries?  

She was closer to 50 now than 40, she reminded herself.  Then 
came 60, and 70, and many lonely years.  The future certainly looked 
bleak.  

Her mother had been alone for most of the last 40 years, except 
for a few years with a spectacularly bad second marriage.  She was 
still healthy, and might live another 10 years or more.  Alone.  

Roz thought of being alone for another 30 years.  The magnitude 
of ten thousand days seemed impossible.  But the thought of being with 
anyone other than Zeke seemed just as impossible.  Barry had been nice, 
but odd, somehow.  

There was a knock at her door.  It was probably Danny; he was 
stopping by to borrow some movies.  Their friendship had grown in the 
last few months, ever since they’d seen the new Star Wars movie 
together.

Sure enough, it was Danny.  She’d had the movies set aside.  She 
let him in, and handed him the stack.  

He looked at the VHS boxes.  “Thanks,” he said.  “How’s the 
packing going?”

“It’s going,” she said.  “I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning, 
so there’s lots of time.”  She watched him.  “This is partly your 
fault, you know.”

“What?”

“What you said a few months ago.  Something about facing my 
demons.  You were right, I need to go back.  I think it’ll be a good 
thing.”

“I hope so.  You deserve good things,” he said, smiling.

She smiled at his backhanded compliment.  Danny wasn’t as smooth 
talking as Ezekiel.  Or as tall, and without as much hair, and he could 
be too... straight and narrow sometime.  But he was still a nice guy.  

“Listen, Roz, maybe when you get back,” he began, “maybe we could 
get together.  I thought maybe you’d like to have dinner with me 
sometime at Trent’s.”  Trent’s was one of the fancier restaurants 
around.   

“Dan,” she replied slowly, “That’s a nice offer.  Can I let you 
know?”

“Sure, that’s be fine.  No pressure or anything.  Is there 
anything you need a hand with?”

“Just getting my suitcases closed, but that won’t be for a 
while.”

“Can I ask you,” he started, then stopped.  He tried again, “Can 
I ask you about the envelope that you have hanging from your door?”

She decided the best explanation was the truth.  “It’s in case 
Zeke comes by and I’m not here.  It’s a note telling him that I still 
love him, and we can work things out.”

Dan absorbed the information, but did not seem surprised.  “You 
know, I still set a place at the table for Alexis sometimes, as though 
she might come home in time for dinner.”  He considered the topic for a 
moment.  “Thanks for the movies, Roz, I’ll return them to you when you 
get back.”

“Wait, Dan,” she said, “What if she came home for dinner?  What 
would you do?”

Again, he considered this before replying.  While it was 
occasionally annoying, Roz liked the way he made sure of his ideas and 
statements before presenting them.  “Roz, I’d like to tell you 
everything would go back to being the same as it was... before.  But 
the fact is, people change over the years.  I know I have.  So we’d 
just have to see what happened.”  

“I just want him back,” Roz replied, looking downward.  “I want 
the life together that I missed out on.”

“But what about the life you have now?” Dan responded quickly.  
Either this was a preplanned speech, or he’d loosened his tongue.  
“Maybe you’re missing out on other possible lives now, because you’re 
still looking towards the past.  I miss Alexis every day, from the time 
I wake up to the time I get back into our bed to sleep.  But she’d want 
me to be happy, so I’m trying to do that for her.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Stephen’s in the car,” Dan said, “So I’ve got to run.  Have a 
safe trip, Roz, and I’ll talk to you when you get back.”  

“Okay.”

Dan slipped out the door.  Roz watched it close.  He was right, 
she’d changed a lot over the last 15 years.  Maybe she should move on, 
and let Dan take her out.  But she felt so close to finding an answer, 
she couldn’t stop now.  

There would be clues in New York City, she was sure of it.

				#

“This sure is a nice boat.” Zeke said admiringly.  The Lawless 
was more than 13 meters long, with two powerful motors at the stern.

“She’s great,” Law affirmed.  “I’ve had her about five years.  
She’ll do 25 knots, no problem.”  

“Wow.”

“I love this boat.”  He laid a tender hand on the side rail.  
“Let me show you below deck.”  He led the way, stepping over a coiled 
chain on the deck.  Stone followed him into a spacious salon.  

“This is nicer than my place, that’s for sure,” Stone said, awed.   
Apollo smiled, walking back past the long leather sofa into the galley.  

“I’ve got a kitchen, and two staterooms.”  He pulled out a 
drawer, revealing plates and bowls.  “It even came with it’s own set of 
dishes!”

“Someone left a plate behind in the room where I live,” Stone 
joked.  

“Father Horn said you lived in that hotel by the Rawshank Diner, 
right?”  Stone nodded as the two men made their way back into the July 
sun.  “I drive by it all the time, the Hotel Ironside.  Doesn’t look 
too bad.”

“Actually, the name is Irondell,” Stone corrected him politely.  
He looked over the rows and rows of boats at the marina.  

“No, I believe it’s Ironside.  Like I said, I go by there all the 
time, and I’ve got a good memory for things like that.”

Stone looked at him.  It was an odd thing to disagree about, the 
name of the place where he lived.  “I’ve lived there about nine months, 
I’m pretty sure that it’s named Irondell.”

Apollo waved his hand dismissively.  “No matter.”

“Well,” Stone said, “Thanks for showing me your boat.  It’s very 
impressive.  I’ll let you get back to your afternoon.”  He offered his 
hand to the other man, and Law shook it causally.  

Stone began walking down the dock again, looking for anything 
unusual.  The work of a damned soul was usually easy to spot.  

				#

Not far away, Cybil had decided to make her escape.  The ship was 
docked, she could tell from the pattern of the waves.  She hadn’t told 
Dorothy or Alma, because she didn’t trust them.  

Dorothy was too friendly with Alberto, and Alma had only been 
there a day or so.  Although their situation was nothing she would wish 
on anyone, Alma was rude and nasty, making their confinement worse.

The deadbolt was undone.  Alberto was in their room, in Dorothy’s 
bed.  The only thing stopping her was the lock on the doorknob, but 
since the door swung outward, it would be easy to pry open.    

She had a wadded up sheet next to her.  She wanted something to 
cover herself when she made it off the ship.  She’d tried to fashion 
some kind of covering by winding the sheet around her, but it came 
apart too easily.  Better to wait, and have it when she got away.

She realized she was delaying.  Her stomach had a knot in it.  
They had shot Nate down in cold blood, (It was warm, her mind insisted 
crazily) and she might end up joining him in a minute.  

Alberto and Dorothy moved on the bed.  Alberto was on his back 
now, pinned underneath her.  Perfect.

She took her lock pick, a short plastic knife that she had 
managed to steal from her plate one night.  She slunk to the door and 
crouched in front of it.  For the umpteenth time, Cybil wished for a 
window in the door so she could see out.  She thrust the molded plastic 
into the crack between the door and the lock.  It was a tight fit, but 
she was able to push the bolt aside.

The door opened a crack, and she picked up her bundle.  Better to 
die on my feet than live on my knees, she told herself.

“HAY!” Alma shouted.  “Whatcha doin?  Hay!  Alberto!”

“Bitch,” Cybil fired back, pushing the door open.  She consulted the 
map in her head.  She was in the hold of the ship, and the ladder to 
the deck was... there.  She grabbed it and pulled herself up into the 
sun.  Her eyes were blinded by the glare.  No matter, she just had to 
get over the edge.  

Val was in front of her as she bolted.  He stretched out a paw, 
and grabbed her left arm.  Cybil pulled away from him, and felt his 
thick fingers slip down her arm.  She ran for the side, and took a 
quick look back as she did.  

Mistake.  She tripped.

The small crewman was right behind her.  He tackled her.

She screamed as loud as she could.  “No!  Help!”

				#

Ezekiel Stone cocked his head at the sound of a woman screaming.  
He scanned the rows of boats.  There were people everywhere.  He looked 
in the direction of the sound, and willed for it to repeat itself.  

“No, let me go!  Help!  Help!”

He walked quickly down the wooden planks, looking for anything 
unusual.  There!  He saw only the top of the struggle over the side of 
the ship.  

It was low enough that he knew he could LEAP over it if he wanted 
to, but it might be best not to attract too much attention to himself 
yet.  He ran around the side, scrambled up a few tall steps, and 
vaulted over the side.

There were three men trying to hold onto a woman.  The first 
thing that he noticed was that she was stark naked.  Two of the men 
held her arms, trying to pull her towards the hold.  The third man 
slugged her in the stomach.  She doubled over, her matted hair falling 
forward.  

“Hey,” Stone said, getting their attention.  The third man turned 
towards Stone.  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to hit a 
woman?”  Wham!  A powered fist connected with the pirate’s chin, and he 
crumpled. 

Val reached for the gun on his hip.  Alberto yanked down on 
Cybil’s arm, pulling her to the floor.  

“Let her go,” Stone said.  

Val smiled.  He looked down on Stone contemptuously, and fired 
the gun three times.  Stone didn’t slow down, just grabbed the gun and 
twisted it out of his hand.  He threw it, ignoring the shocked 
expression on Val’s face.  “What the Hell?”

Alberto grabbed Stone from behind, holding his arms.  Val swung 
his softball-sized fist at Stone’s head, but Stone ducked.  Alberto 
received the blow in the face, and he let go of Stone.

Stone and Val squared off, circling each other.  Cybil was 
standing again, looking at the two defeated men on the deck.  “Run!” 
Stone told her, and she seemed to get her focus back.  She darted for 
the side, and made her way to the ladder.  

“You’re in trouble now,” Val threatened.  Stone feinted right, 
then ran left after Cybil.  She was at the on the dock, looking for a 
direction to run.  Stone LEAPED off of the ship, landing beside her.  

She yelped as he touched her.  Stone twirled his greatcoat off 
and put it over her naked shoulders.  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.  
She nodded, and they began walking away quickly.

				#

“Get up!” Val screamed.  He slapped Alberto in the face.  
“Morgan’s going to be pissed if she gets away!”

Alberto got to his feet.  Val was tucking another pistol under 
his shirt.  “Where did they go?” 

Val pointed.  They made their way down to the dock, leaving the 
other pirate unconscious on the deck.  

				#

“Where’s your car?” Cybil asked.  She held the coat closed over 
her body as she walked.

“I don’t have one.  I took the bus here,” Stone said, glancing 
back over his shoulder.  The two men were following them, and seemed to 
be catching up.  “This way,” he said, leading her toward the exit.  

				#

“They’re too far away from the boat now.” Alberto said.  “Kill 
them both.”

The two men walked faster, as focused on their prey as a lioness 
when she selects a zebra to cut from the herd.  “I shot that guy three 
times already.  What about that?” Val said.

“Bulletproof vest, maybe,” Alberto suggested.  “Just unload on 
his face.  No one can survive that.”

				#

There were no buses in sight at the marina entrance.  Stone 
looked around desperately.  “That cab over there.  Let’s go.”  

The white light on top of the taxi was dim, indicating it was 
unavailable.  Stone yanked the rear door open anyway, and motioned for 
Cybil to get in.  

“Hey, I’m off duty,” said the driver.  A large hamburger from a 
local fast food chain was in his hand.  “Get out.”

“Where are we?” Cybil asked Stone.  

“Marina del Ray.”

“Driver,” Cybil said, “I need to go to Beverly Hills.  I’ll pay 
double the meter.”

Stone climbed into the back seat and closed the door of the cab 
behind him.  He looked out the window at the two pirates.  They were 
heading right for the cab.  

“Do you have any money?” Cybil asked.  Stone pulled thirty 
dollars from his pocket and held it out to the driver.  “I’ll still pay 
double the meter when we get there,” Cybil repeated.  

“Hell, I can eat later.” The driver put his lunch down, and 
started the engine.  He took the offered bills and put the vehicle into 
reverse.  

Cybil spotted Val and Alberto out the back window.  “I’ll see you 
bastards fry,” she said quietly to herself.

				#

“This is bad,” Val said.  

“Let’s get back to the boat before HE does.”

“Agreed.  And maybe we shouldn’t mention this right away.”  The 
two men turned and hurried back the way they came. 



ACT THREE


The taxi cruised northbound on the 405.  Cybil seemed to be 
realizing that her ordeal was over, and had begun to shake.  She 
pressed herself against the door, as far away from the man in the 
backseat as possible.  Nonetheless, she spoke to Ezekiel.  “We haven’t 
been introduced.  I’m Cybil Rotaiva.”  She kept her arms wrapped around 
herself.

“Ezekiel Stone,” he supplied.  Following her lead, he did not 
offer his hand to her.  

“Mr. Stone, thank you for your help.  I would probably be dead 
now without your help.  There were three other women that I saw while I 
was... held there.  They executed Michelle a few days ago, just took 
her out and shot her.”  Without moving, Cybil seemed to shrink into 
herself even more.   

“Call me Zeke,” he said. 

Cybil’s eyes widened.  “No!”  Ezekiel waited.  “That bastard that 
hit me, the one you knocked out.  His name was Zeke.” 

“I’m sorry.  How about Ezekiel?”

She shook her head.  “Do you have a middle name?

He hated using his middle name.  Ever since the late 60s, it 
always brought the same question, no matter how illogical it was.  
“Tiberius,” he said.

Thankfully, she didn’t comment on his unusual name.  “Tiberius,” 
she said carefully, testing it out.  

“What can you tell me about the others?” Stone asked.

“The two who were chasing us were Val and Alberto.  Val was the 
big one.  Then there was the captain.  Those were the only four I saw.”

“What was the captain’s name?”

She got a far away look as she remembered.  “Right after they 
captured me, they handcuffed me and left me on the deck.  Zeke climbed 
up from my ship with a bottle of rum, and said ‘Look, Captain Morgan, 
it’s Captain Morgan!’  Val said something about how he does that all 
the time.  And I heard him called Henry once.  They killed Nate!  And 
they sunk my boat!”  

Stone became aware that the taxi driver was watching them 
closely.  “Do you mind?” Stone said, and the driver put his eyes back 
on the road.  “Let’s not talk about this now.”

They settled back in their seats, Cybil remembering the recent 
past, Ezekiel remembering the distant past, and each was troubled by 
their thoughts.  

				#

In Beverly Hills, Cybil directed the driver to her house.  At the 
front gate, the driver pulled up to the intercom.  Cybil spoke to the 
tiny box.

“Rotaiva residence,” challenged the box.  

“Patty, it’s me,” Cybil said.  “I’m in a taxi.  Have Corbin meet 
me at the front gate with some petty cash.”

“Oh, Miss Rotaiva, I’m so glad you’re okay,” replied the voice.  
“We’ve been so worried.”

The iron gate opened, and the cab pulled inside.  As they drove 
up the winding driveway, Stone caught his first glimpse of her house.  
A row of Roman columns seven meters high marked the entrance to the 
mansion.  Even the six-car garage on the side of the house was larger 
than the house that he and Roz had lived in back in New York 

“Nice place,” was all he could say.  

As Cybil got out of the cab, Ezekiel saw her manner shift.  She 
was no longer helpless; this was a safe place for her.  The nightmare 
was over, at least during her waking hours.  

Stone climbed out of the cab.  Corbin and Patty, both nicely 
dressed and younger than Cybil, came out of the house.  Both were 
smiling.  Corbin handed a stack of bills to her.

Cybil looked back at the cab, and noticed Stone again.  She 
whispered to Corbin, who nodded and went back to the house.  Standing 
straight and tall, she walked to the cab driver.  “Here’s double the 
meter,” she said, counting out bills, “minus the thirty dollars he gave 
you already.”

“That was a bonus,” the driver protested.

“No, it was toward the fare.”

“Fine.” the driver gave in, looking unhappy.

“And here’s your tip,” she said, handing him thirty dollars.  

“Thanks, Ma’am,” he said.  “Good luck.”  With that, he drove back 
down the driveway.  

“Patty, give us a minute,” Cybil said, beckoning Stone to her.  
He approached as Patty backed off to the front door. 

“Look, can you tell me more about what happened?”

“Sorry, Tiberius, now is not a good time.  Could you come back 
tonight, say eight o’clock?”

Stone watched her face.  What should he tell her?  What was she 
thinking of doing?  This woman was a mystery.  “My wife was raped a 
long time ago.  We called the police, and they caught the guy who did 
it.  He doesn’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Cybil met his gaze.  “Can you imagine the scandal if the 
newspapers found out?  No, I can’t call the police.  I’ll need to 
borrow your coat, until tonight.  I also have something for you.”  She 
looked back to see Corbin waiting a polite distance away.  She nodded 
to him and he approached. 

“These are the keys to the Lexus in the garage.  I hope you’ll 
come back tonight, and I’ll sign the title over to you.  However, if 
you don’t want to get involved, I understand.  I’ll keep the insurance 
paid up on the car, just leave it somewhere when you’re done with it.”  
She held out the keys.

Keys to a Lexus?  And she’d give it to him?  What an odd day this 
was turning out to be.  He accepted the offered keys.  Cybil was still 
waiting for a response from him.

“I’m already involved.  I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thank you, Tiberius.”  Cybil turned back to the house.  Still 
holding the keys, Stone watched her walk away, wearing his coat.  

The Lexus drove like a dream.
	
				#

“Hey, you’re back,” Jimmy G said.  

Stone returned his grin.  Jimmy was a character, but there was 
something about him that Stone liked.  He looked around the store, 
spotting one other customer.  

Jimmy G followed his gaze.  “Eddie,” he yelled.  The man turned, 
revealing a weather worn face and tired look.  “Got to close now.”  He 
jerked his head slightly to indicate Stone.  

Eddie looked at Stone.  “Is this the guy?” he asked bluntly.  

Jimmy G turned red.  “Uh, yeah.”

Stone listened in horror.  He’d expected more discretion from 
Jimmy, but apparently he’d told all of his clientele about his last 
visit.  

Eddie came down the aisle and held his hand out.  “Jimmy’s told 
us all about you.  You’re doing great work.”

Seething, Stone shook his hand.  Damn Jimmy!  Who knew what kind 
of people he’d told?  Ezekiel Stone, Nazi hunter.  Almost had a nice 
ring to it.

Eddie continued, “How’s the collection coming along?  Have you 
rounded up a good number?”

Stone looked at him, surprised.  “What?”

Jimmy G finally jumped in.  “Mr. Graham told me he has quite the 
collection of artifacts.  And if his price is right, he’s about to add 
Rommel’s cigarette case to it.”

“Well, good luck,” Eddie said, but made no move to leave.  Jimmy 
and Zeke waited, exchanging glances, and Jimmy glared at him, but Eddie 
still stood there.  

Finally, Jimmy G couldn’t take it any more.  “Eddie!”

“Huh?”

“I’m closed!”

“What?  Oh, right.” His expression changed as he realized that he 
was being asked to leave.  “Don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie 
muttered.

“And flip the sign around on your way out!” Jimmy yelled after 
him.  Eddie turned it so the ‘Closed’ side was facing out, and went out 
the door.

“Hey, don’t worry about him, he never buys anything.  There’s a 
guy coming in to do some private bidding on my collection.  That’s who 
Eddie thought you were.”

“Okay...”

“I didn’t tell anyone about your visit, don’t worry.  Most of my 
customers value their privacy.  This other guy is some rich playboy 
with too much time and money on his hands.  I’ll take his money, but he 
doesn’t know anything about what he’s buying.”  He leaned towards Stone 
and lowered his voice.  “Last few things I sold him, he had me tell him 
everything I knew about their history, and he recorded it.  He 
memorizes a little speech about each one so he can impress people with 
how much he knows.  What a phony.”

“Well, as long as the money’s good.”

Jimmy G smiled at the thought.  “The money’s good.  Anyway, 
that’s not what you came in for.”

“I got a name, I think.  Henry Morgan?  Might be a pirate.”  

“The guy the rum is named for?”

“Could be.”

“Oh, sure.  Off the top of my head, he was a pirate in the 
seventeenth century.  Nicknamed Morgan ‘The Terrible’.  How much detail 
do you want, and when do you need it?”

“As soon as you can.  I appreciate it.”

“I’ll have to call a couple guys who know more about it than I 
do.  I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, remember that button you brought in?  I sold it for $80.”  
He looked down, embarrassed.  “I’ve been meaning to call and tell you.  
How did you want to split that?”

Cash.  That would be really handy, let him get ahead on his rent.  
Maybe start a savings account, rather than try to spend all of his 
$36.27 each day.  Of course, he might get a reward from Cybil Rotaiva, 
so $80 wasn’t all that much.

Some one knocked at the front door.  Jimmy G glanced at it.  
“Damn, he’s early.  Rich bastard.  Excuse me,” he said, going around to 
open the unlocked door for his guest.  “Mr. Graham, great to see you 
again!  Please, come in.” 

He held the door as Graham entered.  Graham wore a suit, and 
carried a briefcase.  For some reason, Stone imagined it was full of 
crisp one hundred dollar bills.

He looked at the two men for a minute.  Jimmy’s clothes looked 
well worn.  For the first time he wondered why Jimmy was selling part 
of his collection.    

Both men looked at him expectantly, and he realized it was his 
turn to leave.  “Thanks, Jimmy,” he said.  “Don’t worry about that 
thing from before.”  Jimmy could use the money, obviously, and he 
hadn’t really done anything except find a button. 

Jimmy looked relieved.  “Okay, I’ll get on your search.  Call you 
soon.”

Stone stepped out into the California afternoon.  Behind him, he 
heard the deadbolt click.  Tucking his hands into his pockets, he 
walked down the street to get in the Lexus.  It was great to be driving 
again. 

				#

“Hey, Zeke,” Sam said as he entered the Hotel Irondell.  She 
removed her headphones from her fluorescent pink hair.  “How have you 
been?”

Ezekiel approached the desk and leaned on it.  “It’s been an 
interesting day.”

“I’ve got something for you,” Samantha said, reaching under the 
counter.  “Sorry it took me so long to get this for you.”  She held out 
a CD.  “I got everyone to sign it for you.  When we get rich and 
famous, maybe it’ll be worth something.”

He took the jewel case carefully, admiring it.  “Thank you, Sam.  
I can’t wait to play it.”  He smiled at her.  

“So, what else do you listen to?  I can’t imagine you’re a real 
big fan of grunge.”

“You know who I haven’t heard for a long time?  Lightning 
Hopkins.  I saw him in concert... a while back.  But I can’t seem to 
find a blues station around here.”

“Yeah, I can’t think of one.  So blues, huh?  That’s cool.”

“Yeah.  Hey, good news,” Ezekiel remembered, “I might be getting 
a car.”

“Well, you’ll have to let me borrow it sometime, then.  Mine’s in 
the shop.”

“There’s nothing like having good, unreliable transportation,” 
joked Stone.

				#

Morgan was pissed.  “I leave the boat for ten minutes and you let 
her escape?  What the Hell!”

“Sorry Boss,” Val said.  He stood up straight, looking down on 
the Captain.  Zeke and Alberto stood behind him, not saying anything.

The Captain raged back and forth across the deck.  “You think 
it’s easy to run this ship?  You three stooges have no idea!  Let’s go 
over this one more time.  How did she get out of the cabin?”

“She picked the lock, sir,” Val volunteered.

“She picked the deadbolt?”  Morgan roared, unbelieving.

“The deadbolt wasn’t locked, sir,” Alberto said.

“And why wasn’t it locked?!”

“I was making a quick visit to the cabin,” he answered.

Morgan got right in Alberto’s face.  “And what were my orders 
while we were docked?”

Alberto looked away, not wanting to answer.  Finally he did.  
“You told us the women were off limits.”

“You disobeyed a direct order from the captain.  “That might be 
considered mutiny by some.”  He looked right into Alberto’s eyes.  “I 
find you guilty of the lesser charge of insubordination, and sentence 
you to five lashes.  First Officer Val, secure the prisoner to the 
railing.”  Without fear, Henry Morgan turned his back on the three men 
and strode up to the wheelhouse.

Val grabbed Alberto’s arm.  “We’d better do what he says,” he 
told him.  Dragging him slightly, he forced Alberto to the side of the 
boat. 

Morgan returned to the deck with a cat o’ nine tails.  The whip 
had nine cords coming out of the handle; each of them knotted several 
times.  This artifact had been hard to find in these modern times, he’d 
had to visit many places before locating one.  Even then, it was only 
for display, requiring a late night, unauthorized visit before he could 
secure it.  He flexed his wrist, feeling the heft of his whip.  He 
hadn’t practiced much with it, so he would have to wing it.  

Alberto tried to look back over his shoulder.  His back was bare, 
except for the dragon tattoo.  The head on the dragon was on his left 
shoulder, the oversized nostrils flared with smoke trickling out.  The 
scales on the dragon were intricately drawn, tinted slightly in green.  
Its tail was looped around a headless body, and an intricately muscled 
claw held the severed head.  

“Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?” 
Henry Morgan asked.  

“I’m sorry,” Alberto blurted out.  “Look, it won’t happen again.  
Just-“

Snap!  Alberto’s words turned into a scream.  It was not a quick 
yelp of pain, but rather the sound of a man being tortured.  The green 
scales of the dragon tattoo were flecked with red.  

“One,” quoted Captain Morgan.

His eyes blossomed hellfire as he flicked the whip again.

				#

“Ezekiel?”

“Jimmy, thanks for getting back to me,” Stone replied.  “How did 
the sale go?”

“He bought the cigarette case, and paid a lot for it.  I’ve got 
some information on Henry Morgan for you.”

“Great, go ahead.”

“He was born in 1635, and started his pirate career when he was 
about 20.  He raised a fleet of ships and an army of pirates and 
attacked cities in Cuba, Mexico, Nicaragua, and Panama.

“In 1669 he led 8 ships and 650 buccaneers to attack two cities 
on a lake in Venezuela.  On his way back out, he found 3 Spanish 
warships and the main gun of the fort there blocking his way.”

“Let me guess,” Stone said,  “He finds a way to escape.”

“Of course,” Jimmy replied.  “But first, he offered the Spanish a 
chance to surrender.”

“And?”

“And they turned it down.  So he sent a small sloop loaded with 
explosives right into them, sinking one warship and burning a second to 
its hull.  Then he captured the third.”

“Clever.”

“Yeah, everyone loves explosives.  So then he offered the Spanish 
fort the chance to surrender.  And they turned him down again.”

“More explosives?” Ezekiel asked.

“No, a feint this time.  He made it look like he was going to 
land this troops and attack, so the Spanish moved their cannon to a 
better position.  Then he just sailed out before they could move it 
back.

“A few years later, he got arrested and sent back to England.  
When King Charles II heard about his adventures, he knighted him, and 
made him lieutenant governor of Jamaica.”

“How did he die?”

There was a brief pause as Jimmy scanned his papers.  “In 1688, 
he became ill and died.”

“He was about 50?”

“Right.”

“Jimmy, thanks,” Stone said gratefully.  “If I can return the 
favor, just let me know.”

				#
	
“Dump the body overboard,” Morgan ordered.  Alberto’s limp body 
was a mass of blood, his tattoo unrecognizable.  His left lung had been 
punctured by the fourth stroke.  His last breaths were spent vainly 
pleading for mercy.  

Val and Zeke looked at the remains of what had been their friend.  
Then they looked at each other, and then to the captain.  He was 
waiting expectantly, watching them. 

“I gave you an order,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Zeke said.  He rushed forward to untie Alberto’s 
body.  Val worked with him, and they hoisted the corpse off the side of 
the ship, Val doing most of the work.

Morgan had climbed back into the wheelhouse, and had already 
started the engines.  The Pride of the Yankees moved forward into the 
waves.

Zeke peered up at his monstrous companion, then past him to the 
see if they were being watched.  “I think he’s gone crazy.”

“Yeah, could be.”

“Look, it could be either of us next.  Let’s make a run for it.  
It might be a while before we dock, so we could take off in the next 
boat we capture.”  It was the longest statement Zeke had made in 
months.  

Val considered it.  Could he trust this man, or was it a trap?  
After seeing Alberto whipped to death, he had already begun to question 
his own presence on the boat.  Still, there were benefits of staying.  
“What about the women?” 

Zeke shook his head no.  

“Oh well,” Val said.  “Let’s do it.”  He looked at the figure in 
the wheelhouse.  “Poor Alberto didn’t deserve that.”



ACT FOUR


“Let me get those for you,” Stone offered.  Cybil nodded, and he 
carried her bags.  

“I’ve got the title for the Lexus is in my BMW,” she told him.  
“I’ll sign it over to you now, if you want.”  

“No, we’re running late.  Apollo is doing us a great favor, and I 
don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Ok, Tiberius.  We’ll sign it as soon as we get back.”

They made their way into the marina.  Apollo Law had agreed to 
let them use his boat, but had insisted on piloting it.  Cybil Rotaiva 
had agreed to pay for the trip, but insisted on coming along. 

The Lawless was right where Apollo had said it would be.  He was 
waiting for them, and made a point to glance at his watch when he saw 
them.  It was a pocket watch, attached by a chain, which was certainly 
not as functional as a wristwatch.  However, the ease with which he 
withdrew it and returned it to his pocket made the gesture seem stylish 
rather than out of date.

Cybil stopped in front of the Lawless.  “Permission to come 
aboard?” she asked.

Apollo seemed amused by the question.  “Permission granted.” They 
stepped onto the boat.

				#

They were looking for a needle in a haystack.  The Pacific Ocean 
covers over sixty-four million square miles.  At 25 knots, it would 
take over 200 years for them to search every square mile.  

There were two things that helped them narrow their search.  
Morgan probably stayed somewhat near the coast, and Cybil suggested he 
was headed south.  On his boat, Alberto and Alma had both been Mexican, 
which suggested to her that he traveled back and forth between the two 
countries.  

She was also working under the assumption that he was smuggling 
drugs over the border.  It was certainly possible, but from what Jimmy 
G had told him about Henry Morgan, it seemed unlikely to Ezekiel. 

Apollo had first wanted to return to the dock each night, but 
Cybil had offered him an outrageous sum of money to stay at sea.  He’d 
accepted, but had put a firm deadline on the search.  “I’ve got mass on 
Saturday, and I refuse to miss it.”

So they had four days to find him.  Cybil told him privately that 
she was buying a new boat, and would go out again on her own if this 
first trip failed.  She made no invitation to him, so he assumed that 
this was his only chance.  

There was no sign of him on Tuesday.

				#

On Wednesday, Stone was reading in the galley when Apollo came 
down.  “What’s your interest in this, Zeke?  After the girl?”  He 
unchained a cabinet door and reached inside for a package of food.  

Stone put the book down.  “I’m not sure,” he said.  “I just got 
involved with this thing, and I want to see it through.”  

Apollo added water to his meal and stirred it before he placed it 
in the microwave.  “What’s the plan if we find them?  Or should I say, 
if they find us?”

“Take them prisoner.  Take them back to stand trial.  Cybil and I 
will take their boat back.”

“And if they don’t surrender?”

“I’m pretty good in a fight,” Ezekiel said cryptically. 

Apollo shook his head.  “I must be crazy to go along with a half-
assed plan like that.  And why does she call you Tiberius?”

He groaned inwardly.  “It’s my middle name,” Stone answered.

Apollo asked the traditional question.  “Were your parents Star 
Trek fans?”

Ever since James Tiberius Kirk had appeared on the airwaves, 
people always asked him that.  It had made less sense while he was 
alive, since he obviously hadn’t been born before Star Trek.  Now, he 
almost took it as a compliment, that he could pass for 30.  There was 
no point to explaining that Tiberius had been his great-grandfather’s 
name, so he gave the short answer; “Yes.”

“Cool.”

“Hey, you mind if I put in a CD?” Stone asked.

“As long as it isn’t country, no problem.”

Stone dug the CD out of his bag.  Lost Souls burst onto the 
Kenwood stereo system.  Apollo raised a questioning eyebrow.  Stone 
grinned, then sat back and listened to Samantha’s voice.

				#

Later that day, he talked with Cybil as they watched the sunset.  
“Why are you doing all this?” he asked her.

She considered the question for a moment.  “If I go to the police 
now, I’m the victim.  I look bad in the papers, everyone feels sorry 
for me, and then they don't take me seriously.

“The police won’t do anything anyway, or anything much.  There’s 
too much money for them in drug seizures.  But if we capture them, I’m 
a hero.  Justice is served.

“And everyone will want my story.  I’ll get someone to ghostwrite 
it, maybe see about getting it made into a movie.”

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“I like to picture Julia Roberts playing me.  Sweet, but tough.  
What do you think?”

He laughed.  “Sure, that would work.”

Apollo came up on deck.  “What are we talking about?” he asked.

“About making a movie about this adventure.  Sam Jackson could 
play you.”

Apollo considered this for a moment.  “Denzel wasn’t available?” 
he asked, straight-faced.

				#

It was on the third day that they had success.  Cybil was the 
visible one, trying to lure Henry Morgan out.  Stone and Law spent 
their time below decks, playing cards, cribbage mostly.  At a penny a 
point, Stone was down about thirty dollars over the course of the 
voyage.  It was okay, though; he had no place else to spend his $36.27.

Cybil changed CD’s, signaling that a boat was nearby.  Wagner’s 
‘The Ride of the Valkeries’ swelled, as Cybil relaxed in a chair and 
tried to ignore the approaching boat.  Apollo and Stone waited below, 
ready to surprise the men who might come on board.  

Ezekiel had wrestled with the problem for several nights.  This 
battle would be a tricky one, because he had to incapacitate the living 
pirates while sending their captain back.  He’d given clear orders to 
Cybil and Apollo that they were to stay on the Lawless.  He suspected 
that Morgan would try to escape back to the Pride of the Yankees, and 
he intended to follow him.  There, he would have to send Morgan back to 
Hell, and rescue the other women Cybil had told him about.  

The Pride of the Yankees, six meters longer than the Lawless, 
pulled along side.  Three men jumped down onto the deck.  Apollo and 
Zeke charged up the stairs.  

Apollo attacked the small crewman, the one named Zeke.  Zeke 
pulled a knife, but was unable to draw blood from Apollo.  Apollo 
grabbed his knife hand and beat it against the side rail until the 
blade fell.   

Val moved to intercept Stone.  Val rained several punches onto 
him before realizing they were ineffective.  Stone let it sink in for a 
moment before backhanding him across the face.  Val wavered, then sank 
to one knee.  Stone rushed towards Henry Morgan.

Captain Morgan had already claimed his treasure.  For all of 
Cybil’s bravado, she had frozen when the pirates boarded her ship.  
Morgan had grabbed her and JUMPED back onto his boat before Stone could 
reach him.

“Damn,” Stone said.  He handcuffed Val quickly, an easy task 
since the giant was still dazed.  

The last pirate, Zeke, stopped fighting.  "We surrender,” he 
said.  “Just get us away from him.”  Ezekiel handcuffed him also.  

The engines of the Pride of the Yankees roared to life.  The 
massive ship surged forward.  Apollo ran to the controls of his own 
boat and launched his pursuit.  

Morgan had a head start, but the Lawless quickly closed the gap.  
“Get along side, if you can,” Stone ordered.  The gulf narrowed, and 
Stone prepared himself.  As soon as he felt confident enough, he 
LEAPED.

It was a long jump, maybe his best yet.  But he believed he could 
do it, and he did, landing in a crouch on the deck of Morgan’s ship.  

Morgan wasn’t in the wheelhouse.  He’d lashed the wheel, and 
locked the engine at full power.  Stone throttled the motor down, and 
the Pride of the Yankees began to slow.

Where was Morgan?  

				#

When he grabbed her, Cybil realized how foolish her plan had 
been.  Now she was back on his ship, prisoner again.  She fought 
against him, but his arms were like iron, and he ignored her feeble 
attack.  

When the engines died, she was sure her rescuer had come to save 
her again.  She called for him, “Tiberius,” and Morgan clamped his grip 
around her throat.  

It was enough.  He found her somehow, and came towards them with 
a gun pointed at Morgan.  “Let her go,” he ordered.  

Morgan laughed.  “No, I don’t think so.  You’ve been very brave, 
but your little pleasure cruise is over.”  Morgan drew his own gun, 
still leaving his left arm around her throat.  

“You know, you don’t look like I pictured you,” Stone said, still 
keeping his gun trained.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Morgan replied.  “I’m much older than 
you imagine.  And I’m immortal.  You can’t hurt me.”

“Wanna bet?” With that, her hero fired once.  The shell tore 
through the air, just over her head.  An explosion of heat and light 
singed her head, and Morgan released her.  He dropped his gun also, and 
clapped his right hand to his eye.

“Cybil!  Go find the others and get them off the ship!”  She ran 
to do it, all the while plotting revenge against this group that had 
shamed her twice.

				#

Stone watched as Morgan ran for the nearest ladder and vaulted it 
in a single motion.  He followed, and found himself on back on deck.  
Morgan was pawing through a locker, looking for a weapon.  

“Morgan,” he called.  The captain ignored him, and kept digging.  
Stone fired a warning shot.  Morgan stood, keeping one hand behind his 
back.  

“Who are you?” the Captain asked.  

“I’m the guy who is going to send you back to Hell.”  Stone kept 
his gun leveled.  Some instinct from his former life in law enforcement 
made him want hear the other side of the story.  The verdict was in, 
but even the condemned got their last words.

The captain considered this.  “You must have an interesting life.   
My life was boring.  I was a librarian for many years.  I read about a 
thousand different adventures, but never had one of my own.”

“I thought you looked too young.  You aren’t Henry Morgan, are 
you?”

The captain laughed.  “Only in my dreams.  My name is Ellsworth 
Trace.  Rather plain name, isn’t it?  Were you an American, before you 
died?”

“I lived in New York.”  

Ellsworth’s face lit up.  “Excellent, we could have been 
neighbors.  I lived in New England all my life.  So when the call came 
for volunteers, I signed up.  The Picture Book War, they called it.  I 
was at Bull Run.  Families came out to picnic and watch the battle.  We 
attacked those Reb bastards, but then they charged us.  I held my 
place, and killed a couple of them.  Then they got me, and I went to 
Hell.

“I helped save this country.  I was a hero!  And how was I 
repaid?  By burning in Hell!”

“You said you did a lot of reading?”

“What?” Ellsworth was startled by the question.  “Yes, I did.”

“Did you ever read the Bible?” Stone asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you read the part where it said, ‘Thou shall not kill?’”

Ellsworth Trace froze as the words sunk in.  Then he charged with 
a yell that would have made the long dead Rebels proud.

				#

She’d been stupid.  She found the cabin easily enough, but she’d 
forgotten about the deadbolt.  Of course, she didn’t have a key.  She 
went back to where Morgan had dropped his gun, and picked it up.  

She pounded on the cabin door.  “Stand back!” she yelled, and 
blasted the lock.  It shattered, and she was able to open the door.

The room was dank and smelled rotten.  Had she already forgotten 
about how she had been treated?  There was the bed, where she had been 
raped.  She stared at it, unblocking the memories.  

Dorothy and Alma crowded around her.  “Are they dead?”

“No, but we’ve got to get out of here.”  Cybil tucked the gun 
into her belt and led them to the nearest ladder, the one she had used 
when she escaped. 

				#  

Stone began firing as soon as Morgan, no, Trace, moved.  His 
shots went high, and Trace pulled his hand out from behind his back.  
It was a knotted whip, and Trace snapped it at Stone.  

The cat o’ nine tails caught him in his hand.  The pain was 
intense, and Stone dropped his gun.  Trace cracked the whip again, and 
Stone raised his arm just in time to block his eyes.  His throat and 
arm burned.  

“I’m going to send you back, and then kill those women you wanted 
to save,” Trace taunted him.  “They’ll never get off of this ship 
alive.”  He drew the whip back.  “And I’ll blow up your friends in the 
other boat.”  

Stone watched him carefully.  That whip hurt, the pain in his arm 
and throat was like burning needles in his skin.  His only chance was 
to get the whip away from him.  

Trace swung, and Stone reached his right hand out to catch it.  
Trace saw his movement, and snapped his wrist back.  As the end of the 
whip cracked, it broke the sound barrier, sending a loud pop into the 
air.  

That might have been what the sound was.  Or it might have been 
the sound of Stone’s bones breaking as Trace hit him in his hand.  

Stone backed off, his useless right hand dangling from his wrist.  
Trace advanced, holding the whip back, ready to strike again.

				#

Alma and Dorothy went up the ladder first, and helped pull Cybil 
up.  She pointed to where the Lawless should have been, and they ran to 
the edge.  Sure enough, there was the boat.  Val and Zeke were face 
down on the deck, their arms handcuffed behind their backs.  Apollo was 
at the helm, watching for them.  

“Ladies,” Cybil said proudly, “that’s our ride.”

“Is there a ladder?” Alma asked.

“I’m not waiting for one,” Dorothy said.  With that, she jumped 
from the Pride of the Yankees.  She aimed her jump carefully.

Zeke screamed as she landed on his back, feet first.  Alma 
followed suit, landing on Val.  Standing up, she kicked him in the 
face. 

Cybil turned back at the sound of a whip cracking.  There was 
Morgan, attacking her hero.  Now it was her turn to rescue him.  She 
pulled the gun from her belt and aimed it carefully at his head.  

				#

Ezekiel kept backing up.  How long was it supposed to take for 
him to heal from injuries?  He figured it had been about a minute and a 
half for Ellsworth’s eye, but it might be different for other wounds.  

Suddenly a shot rang out.  Ellsworth Trace turned to see who was 
shooting at him.  Stone took advantage of his diverted attention.  
While his hand might be broken, but his feet worked fine.  He stepped 
up and kicked the whip from Trace’s hand.  

Trace retreated, unsure which of his two attackers was more 
dangerous.  He ran for the locker that he had taken the whip from.  

Cybil fired again.  It was a tribute to her marksmanship that she 
hit him, but she was unable to damage him in the least.  “Cybil, jump,” 
Stone called to her as he ran toward Trace at full speed, tilting his 
left shoulder into the charge.  

Cybil watched for a moment.  Stone knocked Trace down, but he 
leaped back up, holding out a stick of dynamite.  With a gleeful laugh, 
Trace touched the tip of his finger to the fuse.  “Ten seconds,” he 
said.

Cybil saw the fuse begin to spark.  Alma and Dorothy were calling 
for her to jump, and she finally did. 

Ellsworth pulled his arm back to throw, aiming for the other vessel.  
Ezekiel Stone lunged at him, and caught hold of the dynamite with 
his good left hand.

				#

“What’s happening up there?” Apollo yelled.

“Get away from here, quick!” Cybil yelled back.  “GO!”

Apollo put the throttle down, and the Lawless jumped forward.

				#

“You’ve got eight seconds to let go,” Ellsworth said, grabbing 
onto the dynamite with his other hand.  He tried to wrest it away, buy 
Ezekiel hung on tight.  “We’re going to go back to Hell again, unless 
you let go.”

The fuse burned down slowly.  Ellsworth yanked on the dynamite, 
pulling it towards him.  Stone hung on.  The two men faced each other, 
a half meter apart.  Between them, the dynamite continued its 
countdown.  “Five seconds, don’t be stupid.” Ellsworth said, his eyes 
flashing.  “Let go, you bastard.”

Stone said nothing.  The hellfire rose unbidden in the windows to 
his soul as he concentrated on the fuse.  There were four seconds until 
the fuse burned down, but if he could ignite it at the very base...

				#

“Circle around,” Cybil said.  “Don’t get too close though.  
There’s going to be a big bang...”

				#

With a hiss, the bottom of the fuse flared up.  It was burning in 
two places now, but only one mattered.  “For a librarian, you sure talk 
a lot,” Stone said, thrusting the dynamite into Trace’s face, at the 
same time twisting his own head down, covering his eyes...

Ellsworth closed his eyes and screamed.  The thin layer of skin 
was no protection from the force of the point blank explosion, and his 
eyelids became shrapnel as they ruptured both of his eyes.  The ether 
light mixed with the fire of the explosion.  

				#

“Damn.”

It didn’t matter who on the Lawless said it, because they were 
all thinking it. 

Then the rest of the dynamite exploded.  That took out the fuel 
drums, and the gas tank.  Where a 20 meter boat had just been, all that 
remained was a burning pile of rubble.   

Cybil watched in horror.  Ezekiel Tiberius Stone could not have 
lived through that.  She realized that she was still holding Morgan’s 
gun in her hand.  

Val never saw it coming.  She grabbed his hair and pulled it up 
from the deck.  His brain splattered forward.  Zeke, the bastard who 
didn’t deserve to have the same name as her rescuer, saw it coming.

“No, please don’t.  Please...” he said, just before his face was
turned inside out.  

Cybil looked at the blood on her hands.  No matter.  She turned 
to Dorothy.  “Help me dump the bodies.”  Dorothy nodded.

				#

Stone found himself floating in the water.  His right hand seemed 
fine now, but his left arm seemed broken and almost not all there.  He 
wondered how much damage the explosion had done to it.  Even with all 
the pain already there, it still seemed to intensify as Ellsworth’s 
tattoo burned away.  

There was the Lawless.  Kicking his legs to stay afloat, he waved 
his right hand at the boat.  

				#

“Look, over there!” Alma pointed.  Cybil and Dorothy finished 
dumping Val’s body, and looked.  

“Who is it?” Dorothy asked.

“It’s him!” Cybil yelled.  She waved back.  “Apollo, take us 
closer.”  The engines revved up.  “Alma, you and Dorothy toss the other 
body.”  The two women went to pick it up as Cybil rummaged through a 
locker.  She found what she wanted, a self-inflating life jacket.  All 
Ezekiel would have to do was pull the cord.  

				#

Ezekiel watched as another body was pushed overboard.  Cybil had 
killed the prisoners, he realized.  Now she would join her tormenters 
in Hell.  What a waste.  

Apollo maneuvered the boat to within ten meters.  It was a long 
throw, but Cybil managed to toss the lifejacket very close to him.  He 
swam to it.  

Pulling the cord proved to be difficult.  His left arm was still 
useless.  He solved the problem by batting it into the air and yanking 
the cord down.  It inflated in a rush of gas.  He managed to get his 
right arm through it.

It was over.  All he had to do now was wait to be picked up.

Two shots rang out.  He turned to see the two rescued women 
collapse.  

Apollo Law was holding the smoking gun.

Cybil looked at Apollo, shocked.  Law raised the gun and fired 
again, striking her point blank in the forehead.  Stone watched the 
blood spray as her body fell over into the water.

What the Hell?

Apollo Law set the gun down, and easily lifted one of the limp 
bodies.  Too easily.  A living person would have struggled with the 
dead weight.  

There was nothing he could do but watch as Apollo Law dumped the 
women into the ocean.  There was nothing he could do.  

Apollo aimed in his direction.  Too late, he realized what an 
easy target he was.  He ducked under the water, and was unable to hold 
onto the lifejacket.  It bobbed to the surface, where it was promptly 
hit with a bullet.  

Stone surfaced to breathe.  Force of habit.  Apollo fired again.  
Stone went under again, and stayed down.  He swan underwater towards 
the Lawless, doing the best he could with his crippled left arm.  He 
realized that if his arm had been working, he would have slipped the 
jacket on and been unable to dive under when Apollo Law began firing.  

He had closed half of the distance to the Lawless when the 
turbines began to turn.  The yacht pulled away from him, and he 
surfaced to see where it was headed.  

It was headed away from him at top speed. The damned soul Apollo 
Law had abandoned him, leaving only the ventilated bodies of the women 
and the pirate crew behind.  

Ezekiel Stone was alone in the Pacific Ocean.


			TO BE CONTINUED...