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Review of Nothing Else  Open in new Window.
Review by Alex Morgan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (4.0)
It's good to read more of your poetry, Keaton. *Smile* I forgot how dark it can be, though.

Life
A prison
Existing
A conviction
Doing time
All the while
Acting wise
Philosophically
Philosophical


I think this was my favorite part of the poem because it was something I could relate to.

Great read!
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77
Review by Alex Morgan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ | N/A (Review only item.)
Title:
 
STATIC
Chapter 03, Timekeepers Open in new Window. (18+)
Nathan walks home and into his destiny
#2004308 by Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon


Author: Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon


Just My Humble Opinion:


There is one inconsistency that I noted. In the last chapter, Haakon is wearing a floppy merchant’s hat, but in this chapter he’s wearing a fedora. I don’t think those are the same hat, are they?

Fedora = Indiana Jones; Floppy merchant hat = Father Guido Sarducci? Hehehehe

Great job! I’m still hooked and ready for Chapter 4!



Maybe it had been a mistake to take his usual shortcut from his physics lab to the bus stop.

[Is it the lack of thunder after the second lightning strike that causes Nathan to second guess his decision to take his short cut? There seems to be a little bit of a disconnect here. Perhaps something more eerie to make him think he shouldn’t have gone this way? *Wink*]



The dogs loped closer [‘Loped’ is more of a lazy or slow gait. Perhaps ‘stalked’?] Their black eyes and foam-lathered lips exposed them as merciless predators on the hunt. They barreled directly toward him, their clawed feet scrabbling against the gravel pathway. His heart jack-hammered, but then, in a rush of fetid fur and savage snarls, they raced past him and vanished down the path.

[Psych! *Laugh*]


The runner reached the puddle where Nathan had tripped, flailed his arms, and then tumbled to the ground from the same hidden root. His hat spiraled away, revealing thick braids coiling from his head. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, like the Marlboro man. Or like Claude, right down to the permanent stubble on his chiseled cheeks. Nathan's mouth quirked, annoyed with himself at the memory of his ex. for making the connection to his ex.


Marlboro Man screamed and slammed to the ground. An arrow jutted from his right shoulder. Crimson darkness oozed into his shirt and pooled onto the path beneath him. He'd been hit!

Without thinking, Nathan scrabbled the twenty feet to the man's side and examined the wound. Seeping, not spurting. Good. Maybe the point had missed any arteries. He snatched off his hoody and pressed it against where the arrow grew out of the man's chest. [Maybe I’m splitting hairs here, but in the previous paragraph, the arrow is in his shoulder, but in this one it’s in his chest. Perhaps ‘upper chest near his right shoulder?]


Nathan rolled his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about? I mean, I'm a Packers fan myself, so I don't like the Vikings much either. [Love it! ]

Nathan realized his mouth was open and closed it. "Holy crap on a cracker." [If he closed his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to say “Holy crap on a cracker!” He could probably say it before he closed his mouth, perhaps?]



“What? An intertemporal transporter? You mean a time machine?" Nathan felt as if he'd stepped into the Twilight Zone and that Rod Serling must be lurking somewhere nearby, cigarette in hand.

[Or maybe Rod Taylor? *Wink*]


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Review by Alex Morgan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ | N/A (Review only item.)
Title:
 
STATIC
Chapter 02, Timekeepers Open in new Window. (18+)
Haakon escapes to Iowa
#2004206 by Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon


Author: Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon

Plot:

Haakon goes in search of Ralf and finds a girl standing over the body of a dead priest outside the parsonage. He picks her up and carries her into Ralf’s home. The girl’s mother is there also. Haakon and Ralf exchange information briefly before they have to leave to stay alive.
Haakon leads them to a path that will take them to a beach where they can hide in the caves. Some of the Vikings see them and charge. Haakon diverts their attention away from the other three refugees and runs into the forest. His Timepiece takes him to Iowa in 2018 instead of Chicago Central. He has to get to the nearest station so he can make the jump to Chicago.
As he begins to walk in the direction of the station, he hears another Timepiece activated and realizes that the Vikings have stolen a timepiece and have followed him to Iowa.

My only comment on the plot is the back and forth between King Harold and King Edward. Both are mentioned alternatively, so I’m confused as to who is king. Edward died in January 1066 and was succeeded by Harold so maybe they are remembering Edward?

Scene/Setting:
This chapter is set first in Scarborough in 1066 and then Iowa in 2018. At first I thought the battle with the Vikings was taking place at night but there was a sentence after they are fleeing the parsonage that mentions it is day.
The setting in Iowa is described well, too. The details on the storm approaching are vivid and help the reader visualize the Timepieces jump.

Characters:
We are introduced to Ralf in this chapter. He’s also a big and bearded like Gunnar. I’m seeing a pattern in the men Haakon loves. *Wink* He sounds like he might have a Scottish accent?
The girl Charlotte and her mother also appear in this chapter but not much is known about them yet.

JMPO

I’m enjoying the story, Max.
Haakon huddled in the shadow of Gunnar's hut and stroked his Timepiece [Maybe I just have a dirty mind, but when someone is in the shadows stroking something…well, another scenario comes to mind. Perhaps: Fondling? Caressing? *Laugh*]

Haakon swung the flat of his axe against the man's skull, and he fell to one side. The woman moaned and rolled glassy eyes at him. No time to help her. [Is she dead or badly injured? From the next sentence, when Haakon is telling her to run, I suppose she is fit enough to flee?]


Her chin trembled, and red rimmed her puffy eyes, but she pointed.

"I had business with the village chandler, but we woke this morning to this." He hefted the child to a more comfortable position and nodded toward the village. Screams and the thud of horses' hooves sounded nearby, shrouded by smoke and fog. "We've no time, my friend. We must quit{/} this place." [Seriously, Max? *Wink*]


Ralf stood over her and turned defiant eyes on Haakon. "This is the good woman Catherine Corbett, late of the court of the Queen of Montes. Good King Edward found a place here for her and that child you hold, Charlotte. [In the previous chapter, when Haakon arrives at Gunnar’s cottage, he calls out King Harold’s name. Which king is on the throne in this story?] I undertook a commission on the King's behalf to protect them."


"Caves? Aye, that could work. And once we be back in Jorvik, the Abbess will see to the women woman and her child. [And ‘Abbess’ isn’t capitalized.]

A scream, plaintive and agonizing, shrieked from in the distance before dwindling to silence.

Haakon pressed the info button next to the coordinates of the unknown locus and a little balloon of light filled with text bubbled up. Rune Cave, Middleton, Iowa, 22 September 2018. Level three station. Caution: use not recommended after 1880 CD due to proximity of temporal settlements. For security purposes, arrival coordinates offset by 3.2km.
[Use of what is not recommended? Is it a warning to not go to the cave? The level three station? Don’t go to Iowa at all?]


"Go, I say. Remember your oath to King Edward [Now back to King Edward.]and your duty to the woman and child.

He lurched to a stop and placed an ancient hickory tree between himself and his pursuers. When he activated his Timepiece, the familiar colors of the space-time twistors twisters swirled about him.

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Review by Alex Morgan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ | N/A (Review only item.)
Title:
 
STATIC
Timekeepers Chapter 01 Open in new Window. (18+)
Haakon's mission to 1066 goes awry.
#2112972 by Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon


Author: Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon




No problems with the plot or the sequence of events. Your writing kept me interested and wanting to read more. I’m eager to find out what happens next.

I see there has been a significant rewrite of the story, but I like the changes.


Timekeepers


It seems that there is a Chronology Protection Agency which prevents the appearance of closed timelike curves and so makes the universe safe for historians. 1
-- Stephen Hawking



Chapter One
11 September 1066
Scarborough, Earldom of Northumbria
Kingdom of England



Haakon's Timepiece keened, and the egg-shaped temporal field that encased him swirled in a wild kaleidoscope of reds, greens, and blues. The sonics [‘Sonic’ is an adjective so to use it as a noun is a little awkward. Perhaps ‘high-pitched whines’ ‘shrieks’ ‘piercing sound’ etc?]. rose in pitch, and the colors deepened. Even though he'd done this hundreds of times, jump jeebies still roiled his stomach and sent pinpricks skittering across his flesh.


Shivering, he fumbled with his Timepiece. [I’m wondering why he is shivering. Is he cold? Is he scared? For the rest of the paragraph, it sounds like he is annoyed.]
The holographic display flared above the cross, tethered by a thread of light to the runic decorations on the pewter surface. The readout jiggled like Jell-O, but was steady enough for him to follow its scan of the vicinity. A few hot spots: stoats and perhaps a fox, but no humans. Good enough.

It would be good to see Gunnar again, even if he was kind of a tight ass. [Does this mean he’s a pain in the ass, or something more sexual?]

Haakon relaxed in the other's arms for a moment before he stiffened. "I've missed you, too. We should be careful, though. If the Priest saw us, we'd be fodder for a burning." [‘Priest’ does not need to be capitalized unless it is with a proper name.]
Gunnar shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, the Abbot would have let me know somehow. [Same applies to ‘abbot’]

"I doubt the Bishop cares what happens in this backwater." [And ‘bishop’.]

Haakon shrugged. "There's misery enough in this world. Whether one child lives or dies won't change the course of history. There's good reason to show mercy for those like Ralf that who help us."

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Review by Alex Morgan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ | N/A (Review only item.)
Title: "The Decoherence of KevinOpen in new Window.
Of course, this chapter doesn’t have as much blood and guts as the previous one. I enjoyed the diversity in the characters. I’m beginning to think Sam is gay? The reporter and he seem to be acquainted.
One thing about consistency (see my comments below), we’re in Sam’s head throughout the chapter. But sometimes his thoughts are in italics and other times, they aren’t.

The sun-scorched blacktop in the mall's parking lot penetrated Lieutenant Detective Sam Myamoto's Reeboks and baked the soles of his feet. Heat rose in waves and sent a drizzle of sweat from his brow into his eyes. He blinked against the sting while peering into the gaggle of gawkers gathered outside the yellow police tape, as if the tragedy inside was a ghoulish reality show just for their entertainment. He sighed. They had no idea real murder scenes were nothing like the sanitized TV versions. He clipped his badge to the belt of his Levis and pressed into the crowd.


Sam turned to face a spindly young man whose narrow features and ebony eyes reminded him of a ferret. Except ferrets don't have spiky black hair with purple tips and a reporter's notebook. Sam glanced at the young man's t-shirt and didn't quite twitch suppressed a twitch of annoyance. The front of the t-shirt displayed a gaudy cartoon of a rooster with the words "I like" stenciled above it. Jumping Eagle met his gaze and Sam faltered for a moment as his mind clicked on what the words and the cartoon meant.



Sam winced. "It's all right, Officer Franzen. I can spare a second." Apparently, Franzen had he has no trouble figuring out that Running Eagle was gay. Go figure. A straight guy with gaydar.



A momentary spark of anxiety froze Sam's features before he answered, keeping his voice neutral. "I'm sure." He nodded in the direction of a black Cadillac Escalade with OSU Cowboys flag on its rear window that had just pulled into the lot. "Maybe you could escort Chief Sturant through the crowd? He just pulled up in that SUV over there. He's in the SUV with the OSU Cowboys flag. I'm sure he'd appreciate your assistance."



Sam kept his face impassive despite another internal twitch. "I'm sure Chief Sturant won't let his personal feelings, whatever they are, keep him from treating you right. Besides, how would he know whether you're gay or straight?" He wanted to add that Harley was probably too clueless to understand the kid's t-shirt, but thought better of it. He glanced at the mall entrance. "I've really got to go, Randy. I'm sorry."



Chief Sturant slammed through the double glass doors, stomped toward Sam, and hitched his pants up over his beer belly. [Where is Franzen?] He growled, "God damned student reporters anyway." Perspiration beaded his ruddy features, and he swabbed his face with a wrinkled handkerchief. "This is a fuckin' mess."


"Sure, sure. Take your time. But you need a new partner, 'specially now. Let me know anytime a-fore the press gets here." Harley gave Sam's elbow a friendly squeeze and he winked. "Think about Franzen. I won't force nobody on you, you know that [add comma] Sam. You're my best detective. Hell, you're the whole homicide department right now. But I have a feelin' Franzen's the right man for the job."



Sam grunted, thinking it was too early in the investigation to draw conclusions about who was the perp and who was the victim. "I heard he was one of the shooters. I know him. He's part of the auxiliary. We used him for the county fair last month. One of the good guys." He waved at a group of uniformed officers clustered not far from the bodies. "Hey, Lucky. Are you You the ranking officer here?" [I don’t think Sam should start talking like Harley yet. *Wink*]

An A officer with a gymnast's taut posture, curly blond hair, and five-o'clock shadow waved back. When he sauntered up to them, his craggy features broke into a smile and his words piped in a cheery baritone, as if violent death made his day. "Not no more, Sam. You got that job now."


Sam eyed bloodstains outside a shoe store, about forty feet from the DBs bodies. "Any other injuries?"
[The reason I marked through DBs is because it’s professional lingo, so it’s okay when the police officers are speaking to each other. But in the narrative, I think it should be spelled out. *Smile*]

The older man's tone turned dismissive. "Your case, your call, your ass. Just keep me in the loop, so's I don't look bad with the press. Right now, I'm gonna follow up with Lucky. You're right. If his brains was leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle up a flea." [LOL] He turned on his heel and left.



She nodded. "It's on the union's info card." She pulled out her cell phone and hesitated. "Lieutenant? [How does she know he’s a lieutenant? He doesn’t introduce himself as such.] We've met before. You taught a class on community policing when I was at the Academy two years ago. It changed the way I looked at being a police officer. I wanted you to know."



Sam stuffed his pad back in his pants pocket. "Sometimes law enforcement has to make split-second judgments. Sounds to me like you did what you thought necessary." He glanced at the video camera hanging over the ATM by the bank. Have to get the tape. It'll say whether or not poor Ozzie's guilty of excessive force. Sam reflected that no good could come from this. No matter what the tape showed, and no matter that the DA was unlikely to charge Ozzie, he was going to have to deal with having killed another living, breathing person. Welcome to being a peace officer.
[Bill, you mentioned that when a person is thinking, you don’t have to put those thoughts into italics. *Wink*]



"Yes, sir." She hesitated. "I was wondering why that one's wearing a sweat shirt. It looks, well, suspicious, to me, it being July and hotter than a goat's butt in a pepper patch." [LOL Where do you come up with these phrases?]



He poked his pen under the sweat shirt and lifted it. "The technical term is putty explosive." Sam peered under the shirt. Sure enough, there it was and discovered the source of the smell: an olive drab mylar packet, one by two by eleven inches, like an oversized candy bar. He counted at least six of them before he heaved a deep breath and eased away from the body. "Our vic seems to have several pounds of the stuff strapped to him, along with strands of nails braided around the packets." Sam stood and edged away, his gaze never leaving the body. "Pretty nasty if it went off in a crowd. Shrapnel everywhere."


She blinked, but held her ground. Her hands and voice stayed steady. "Better safe than sorry, don't you think, sir? If it's all right, I'll broadcast that vacate order now. The mall office is right here, next to the bank."

Good to know she's cool in dangerous situations. [Just being consistent.]


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Review by Alex Morgan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ | N/A (Review only item.)
Hey, Bill. Here are my comments on your first chapter. Very exciting! Remember these are only my humble opinion, so keep whatever comments you like and trash the ones you don't!

Kevin glanced at his wristwatch as he pushed [should this be ‘rushed’? Or ‘pushed the door’?] into the air-conditioned interior of the Sycamore Mall. He brushed sweaty bangs from his eyes, glad to leave behind the oppressive heat of July in Oklahoma. The line at the Cineplex box office was blessedly short, and he bought two tickets. He checked his watch again and scanned the entry hall. His mouth hardened. [Perhaps ‘He pressed his lips together in annoyance.’? I’m not sure how a mouth could ‘harden’.]
No Khalid. He wasn't exactly late, but he wasn't on time either. Kevin snatched his phone from his shirt pocket and thumbed a quick text. Where ru? Movie starts in 15.

Worry nibbled at him as he pressed send, a foreboding he couldn't quite put his finger on. A vision of Khalid injured and bloody bubbled up from nowhere, and his impatience dissolved to concern. He chewed the side of his mouth.

I’m being silly, he scolded himself. Khalid is just late. That’s all.
He was being silly. Khalid was just late, that was all.

Kevin slipped his phone back in his pocket and peered into down the corridor of the mall [He’s already in the mall. *Wink*]. The braided rainbow bracelet on his right forearm rolled over his wrist and flopped onto the back of his hand. He flicked it in place, and, as he did so, a short, stocky man wearing a bulky sweat shirt pushed through the crowd and jostled against him.

The man muttered, "Don't touch me, you fuckin' faggot," the man muttered.

Cold anger froze Kevin in place.

Jerk-face sweat-shirt-guy plowed into an elderly woman who leaned on a cane and carried an overflowing shopping bag. She stumbled and Kevin grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. Her fingers clutched at him while her purchases clattered to the floor.

Sweat-shirt-guy sneered at them and disappeared in the crowd.

The woman steadied herself on Kevin's arm and caught her breath. "Thank you, young man."

Kevin knelt and gathered up her belongings before the crowd trampled them. "Sure, no problem." He stuffed items into her bag, stood and handed them to her. "Are you all right?"

She fluffed at her gray curls and straightened her skirt. "I think so." Her gaze probed the crowd. "What a putz. He smelled bad, too."

Kevin gave her an easy grin. "I noticed. What kind of idiot wears a sweatshirt in Oklahoma in July, anyway?"

"A meshuggener, that's what kind." She peered at Kevin. "You look familiar. Have I maybe seen you on campus?" She held out a blue-veined hand. "I'm Nadezhda Kaminski, by the way."

Kevin accepted her hand, surprised at the firmness of her grip. "Kevin. Kevin Freeman. Nice to meet you, ma'am." He thought for a moment. "I suppose we could have met on campus. I'm an English major. My partner works at at the Quantum Brain Institute. Maybe you've seen me there?"

She shook her head. "No. Perhaps it was somewhere else." Her face crinkled into a smile. "I work in the medical library. I know that nice Dr. de la Cruz. Doesn't he run the Institute?"

Kevin gaped at the notion that Khalid's dissertation adviser was "nice." Officious, condescending, overbearing, sure. But nice? What planet did she live on?

But she'd already turned to glare down the mall in the direction sweat-shirt-guy had gone. In a flash, her expression changed and her eyes sparked. "I heard what that schmuck said to you." She turned back to Kevin and touched his rainbow bracelet. "Be proud of who you are. You're a good person, young man. Don't let him get you down."

"I won't. Jerks like that can't hurt me."

"That's a healthy attitude." A chime sounded and she reached into her handbag. "Shalom Aleichem. Peace be with you, my new friend." She turned away and spoke into her phone.

Kevin bowed and murmured, "And with you," Kevin murmured as he bowed in response. He fingered the two movie tickets he'd purchased and checked the time again. Khalid was usually early. Where is he?

His phone buzzed and relief flooded Kevin as he recognized his lover's number. He tried to keep his voice even, but his irritation escaped anyway. "Where are you?"

Khalid's liquid(?) accent answered. "I'm sorry, Kev. The brass at the Institute kept me late, the traffic was a bear, and then there was that errand. When I finally got here, I had to park at the far end of the mall. I'll be there in less than two minutes."

[What is a liquid accent?]

Kevin heaved a sigh, annoyed at himself more than at Khalid. He forced his voice to be cheerful. "Okay. I've got our tickets. You want to go out for dinner after?"

"I guess. You buying? I'm running kind of short right now, y'know."

Kevin's eyebrows went up. Khalid wasn't rich, but between his GI benefits and his graduate stipend, he usually paid. The chance to be the one taking care of the check brought a grin to Kevin's face. "No problemo. I'll run to the ATM and pick up some extra cash. I'll meet you there."

"Perfect. I love you."

Kevin pictured his boyfriend's slow grin, and gratitude for Khalid's easy-going and generous nature swelled in him. "Love you, too."

He started to slip the phone back into his shirt pocket, but it spouted a string of syllables too faint to understand. He lifted the device back to his ear. "What? I missed that."

Khalid's whispered words rushed from the earpiece. "There's trouble by the bank." A burst of static interrupted him, and then he said, "...like you warned me...away from the ATM...make it...." More static. "...love you..."

Kevin frowned. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

No answer.

He stared at the display. Khalid had hung up. When he pressed redial, it rolled to voice mail. Worry again twisted his gut. He glanced at the line entering the theater, at his watch, and then struck off ran toward the bank and the ATM.

Late-afternoon shoppers crowded the Sycamore Mall and slowed his progress. Roving bands of teenagers mixed with haggard mothers pushing strollers. What were all these people doing here? Then Kevin spotted the protesters singing hymns outside the Planned Parenthood clinic, right across from the bank. That must be why the place was so jammed up. Just what he needed. But the protesters had been hanging out there for weeks. That couldn't be the trouble Khalid mentioned.

Where was he, anyway?

From somewhere in front of him, two faint pops snapped, like balloons bursting. The babble of the crowd, the lilting voices of the protesters and the soft Muzak from the overhead speakers almost-but-not-quite cloaked the sound.

[Wouldn’t the people in the crowd start screaming immediately? Obviously there are people close enough to the ATM to realize those are gun shots and would start to panic. Also, if the mall is so noisy, it’s doubtful anyone would hear a woman shouting instead of gunfire, right? ;)]

Kevin arched his back and at last spotted Khalid's lithe form. What was he doing? He stood rigid outside the bank, in front of the ATM. His eyes blazed.


[Can Kevin see Khalid’s eyes from that distance?]

Both hands extended in front of him, gripping something black and menacing in two clenched fists.

A woman shouted. "He's been shot!"

For an instant, the crowd fell silent.

Sudden screams filled the corridor. The mass of shoppers boiled away from the bank and the clinic. Kevin struggled against the surging bodies. He had to get to Khalid! A fat woman blocked his path, and a burly man shoved him aside. Kevin stumbled into a shoe store, his arms flailing for balance. A display rack holding sneakers crashed onto his skull. [Or did Kevin crash into the display rack, hitting his head? It reads as if someone threw the rack at him, hitting him in the head?]

Purple splotches flashed and the world disappeared for an instant, only to return seconds later, as horrifying as before. Screams and shouts of, "He's got a gun" came from the direction he'd last seen Khalid.

Kevin struggled to his feet. His head throbbed. The right side of his face burned from where the shoe display had slammed into him. He fought the tide of panicked shoppers and struggled back toward the direction of the disturbance, toward Khalid.

His lover stood alone and isolated, in front of the bank, but his body quaked. Sweat slicked his brow and soaked the armpits of his crisp, white shirt. His eyes bulged in their sockets and seemed to spark with an electric fire.

A gun. Kevin's breath caught in his throat and a black hole chilled his core. He finally had clear view of what Khalid gripped in his hands. Where had peaceful, happy-go-lucky Khalid gotten a fucking gun?

A uniformed guard stumbled from inside the bank. He shouted something Kevin couldn't catch. The man held his own weapon outstretched, in both hands, just like a TV cop. Its barrel probed the air like a pig's snout grubbing through a barnyard, seeking a target.

Khalid turned to face the guard. The gun in Khalid's hands now hung from his arms, as if the weight were too heavy to bear.

Are Khalid’s arms still outstretched? If so, the gun would be hanging from his hands, right? It reads as if his arms are hanging down, but in the next paragraph, his arms are outstretched again.

The guard's weapon swiveled to point at Khalid. The man yelled something incoherent. Khalid froze. The weapon in Khalid's hands dangled before him, his arms outstretched and his wrists bent by the mass.

The guard's gun flashed. Once, twice, three times, in rapid succession.

Kevin's world slowed to a silent nightmare.

Khalid stood rigid. An instant later, like a freeze-frame in a movie, the back of his head disappeared. In less than a second, a chunk of skull, with curly black hair, skittered, spider-like, across the polished Terrazzo floor, leaving behind a crimson trail.

Another instant blinked by. White goop splattered like spaghetti behind Khalid. Brains. That goop had to be his brains. As if no time passed, his body suddenly lay twisted on the floor in a boneless heap. A dark pool of blood seeped around his motionless form. [JMHO, this borders on gross. Hehe]

Time, continuous and relentless, started to flow once again. An ocean roared in Kevin's ears, muffling the shrieks from the shoppers. His knees transformed to liquid. He leaned against the doorway to the shoe store and the cool metal chilled his trembling fingers. His bones turned hollow and his mind jittered.

This couldn't be happening.

Khalid, athletic, handsome Khalid, lay motionless in front of the bank. Red splatters marred his white shirt. Dark, wine-colored blood muddled the perfect crease of his khaki slacks. The crease Kevin had put there just last night.

Less than a dozen feet away, another body sprawled on the Terrazzo, a companion in horror. This one flopped and gasped. Pink foam sprayed from a silent mouth. Ruddy liquid seeped from two wounds in the torso, soaking a bulky sweatshirt and staining faded blue jeans. Kevin gasped: this was the creep who'd called him a faggot just minutes before. The man's arm jerked and flopped over the surface of his sweatshirt, as if seeking something urgent.

The man twitched. His back arched. A shuddering breath wheezed from his gaping mouth. His eyes turned glassy and rolled upward. His arm stopped moving and his body fell still.

The bank guard circled around Khalid, his weapon pointed at the floor. His voice shook. "He had a gun. I had to shoot him." He looked up and locked eyes with Kevin. Horror pooled in their depths. "I had to do it."

From nowhere, from somewhere, from elsewhere, Khalid's soft tenor murmured to Kevin, "I love you." Then silence closed in.

The mall spun about him in an insane kaleidoscopic whirl, and Kevin slid to the floor. Sobs escaped his throat and his stomach roiled. His belly clenched and spewed vomit. Tears blurred his vision. He struggled to stand, but his limbs wouldn't obey. His head throbbed, and his thoughts slogged in slow motion. He crawled toward Khalid, the floor hard and cold against his palms. If only he could touch him, staunch the bleeding, give him CPR. Khalid couldn't die. Kevin had to save him.

But gentle hands stopped him. A fat woman squeezed his hand. Was it the same woman who had pushed past him earlier? She cradled his head in her lap. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's going to be all right. You rest yourself, you hear? They've called us an ambulance."

She caressed his cheek and fire followed her touch. "You took quite a jolt when you fell, hon. Don't you worry none. It's gonna be all right." Her voice was just like his mother's, except compassion filled her words instead of judgment. She glanced across the mall at the two bodies and her face hardened. "Satan's been here today, but I won't let him touch you. You're safe now. Elmira won't let nothin' happen to you." When she flipped stringy, blonde hair from her face she left a trail of red on her forehead. She fingered the cross that hung on a chain about her neck and whispered, "Help him, Jesus."

Agony pulsed through Kevin's skull and he groaned. He licked his lips and tasted blood. Where did that come from? Was it Khalid's? Or was it from the motionless figure on the floor? It couldn't be. They were both too far away. Awareness fluttered as he fought against darkness. "Khalid. I have to go to him."

The woman--Elmira?-- tsked. "Don't you worry your head none, hon. Me and my husband, we'll take care of you. You're safe."

Kevin struggled to sit up, but her gentle arms held him tight. He tasted blood. His blood? He had to get to Khalid, to touch him. A wave of dizziness made the mall whirl about him. The scent of Elmira's perfume and tacos commingled. Distant voices clamored. A siren keened. His vision dimmed and blackness closed in.
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