August 21st, 2016

Beep, beep!

Bright, blinding lights shone on me as wails and laughter rattled in my ears. I dropped the bat that was in my hand into the passenger seat. Did I bring it back? Betty was here despite her disintegrating before my eyes.

"Where the fuck did you come from? Move out of the road!" a male voice shouted from outside.

My hands were on the steering wheel. The heat burned my back, and the world materialized like a haze before my eyes. I was back in my car in the middle of the road. From the rearview mirror, Ash sat behind me. Her gaze was on the street outside.

"Move, asshole!" a man in an old blue truck yelled at me from a distance.

"I have to pick up groceries before I go home."

As I shifted into my lane, the man's voice was in my head, and he drove away.

What happened?

The door opened, and Ash stepped out.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "You didn't come back."

"I did, but something else was waiting for you. I sensed it. It was so powerful it made Samael look like a child, and you called for it."

"How did you know I called for it?"

Ash paused but said nothing.

I clenched my fist. "What was I supposed to do? I had no choice."

"Survive, fight. It doesn't matter, anyway, this is goodbye."

"What about your home, your mother, and the people that died there?"

"They will probably clear that mess up," she stepped forward.

"Who are they?"

"The people that keep this lie alive."

"Wait, I know there are things you aren't telling me. You're leaving me blind. Why does one of those things know you by name?"

Ash's face turned red, and she hurried away on the pavement.

  If I let her go now, I might never see her again. One foot on the pedal and shifting to reverse, I gazed back.

"Wait." I tapped the window towards her as I reversed. Not getting her attention, I rolled it down and repeatedly called as I got closer. A car behind Betty honked its horn, forcing me to stop. When it passed, I reversed again and Betty dipped in a hole as the car shook. Shit!

Ash continued walking the closer I got my car to her.

  "I need to know what is going on! I know you know more than what you let on. If you leave me, it's like committing me to death."

Ash picked up her pace. Her head was not towards the road.

"If you were so close, why didn't you help those people that were with me? You could have saved them with your strength and speed."

Ash finally came to a stop and glared at me. "Because it was a trap. She was waiting. People die there every day. Even now, as we are here, people are being hunted by monsters and humans alike. You act like you care, but you don't. It's all about you."

Ash headed up a patch of grass and crossed over onto another road. I scratched my black short hair as she slipped away.

Damn it!

I put my foot on the pedal and drove to 6 Monthaonca Bar. The radio was silent despite how many times I changed it, and by the time I had reached it, it didn't matter to me anymore.

It was 8 a.m. when I parked my car in the parking lot. The bar was closed, and I reclined my seat and glanced over at Nelson Street, watching the cars pass by. The names of missing people covered tons of poles. Some were old, and others were very new.

I settled into the chair, and reality crept into my mind. I had nowhere else to go and no real money. Two monsters on my ass. One to torture me and the other to seal me with lock and key. I rubbed the sweat from my forehead. The police were probably looking for me for questioning. My apartment's front door was wide open, and those people, my neighbors, were scattered about the apartment block like pretty decorations.

Ash made it seem like what happened had no real consequence. She had probably lost her damn mind after witnessing so many dead people. What did she mean that Rainbow was waiting in ambush? Ash left me there, and I nearly died. The thing even gave me back my phone. Were all the missing people trapped in that world? Would that eventually happen to me? I sank back on the chair and rubbed my hand through my hair. Fuck! I should have picked up some cigarettes.

No, there has to be an answer to this to escape that hell. If I talked to a priest, I might get a better insight. Somebody has to know. I started the engine. That's what I will do and get some cigarettes on the way.

I pulled out of the parking lot and came onto the main road. It was about ten minutes before I made a quick stop at a ragtag gas station, where I picked up two snacks and a soda. I motioned to the disgruntled employee for a pack of cigarettes from the shelves. Beside him was another imitation of life, smiling at me and raising its hand. As I was browsing, voices entered my head again — the woman by the fridge door and the young man that had entered.

"What do I buy?"

"Sofie might like this."

"Damn, I am running low on cash."

"I have to find a blind spot to get the bread."

The disgruntled worker contemplated walking off the job and going on the phone with his lover, even in front of me. It all flooded my mind. 

"Are you ready to check out, sir?" the thing asked, looking in my direction. It reminded me of Mr. Brown. It gave me a smiley face, and I, along with others, ignored it. 

The employee scratched his head and returned to the cash register. My hand rested on the counter as I waited for my order to be cashed. How could I hear their voices in my head?

The news played on the radio next to the young man behind the counter. "Bodies have been discovered at Mary Avenue. In what neighbors and residents have described as a scene straight out of hell. Several members of the public have reported finding dead bodies with their heads severed and blood smeared across windshields, apartment doors, and the parking lot. Most people are still reeling from what they witnessed. Forensics will determine whether this was the work of an as-yet-unidentified assailant who police have deemed is probably linked with multiple incidents of shootings in the last four years."

I gripped the cigarette box tightly in my hand. "Here is your change."

"Thanks," I said, taking it from him.

"Enjoy your day, sir," the thing said.

I headed back to Betty, got in, and found myself back on the road. What the fuck was happening to me? For a second, my body twitched as my hands lay steady on the wheel. The nearest church to here was Saint Martindale. I made the next left, and there before me was the church, like a glistening beacon of hope among the rubble.

As I parked Betty in the church's parking lot, music came from inside. I slammed the door and noticed a car turning into the parking lot. I took the first step and stopped. Would they be able to help me? I exhaled as my shoulders dropped.

"Domenic," a voice called as the car came beside me.

"Pastor?" It was the man from my mother's funeral. My eyes passed over the man, his dark brown skin, cocoa eyes, and double chin. His name slipped into my mind.

"I am surprised to see you here. Are you coming to church?"

"No, I needed someone to talk to. Can I have a few minutes of your time?"

"Sure." He parked and walked over to me in his black robe, coming to a halt with the bible in his hand. "What's troubling you? You want to sit in the car and talk?"

I nodded, opening Betty's door. We both got in. "After the death of my mother, things have been strange. I lost my job. My wife and I have been financially under a lot of strain.

The pastor nodded. "Many people within the church have also been having financial woes. Some blame Mayor Hernando for selling out the country, now a state of the U.A.C., but I believe that these are all signs of things to come. My son, we must hold out in this deep time of tribulations."

I swallowed my saliva. "That's not the only thing. I have been experiencing things every night. I thought it was a dream or a hallucination at first, but it feels so real. Heat on my body and the screams of the people suffering." My eyes focused on the pastor's face. It remained unchanged as he waited for me to continue. "I believe that a demon gave me a drug that keeps me in a world that resembles hell."

"A drug?" The pastor's face turned serious. He rubbed his crooked nose.

Searching around the car, I handed him one that Samael had left with me. "Yes, a pill like this."

The pastor held it in his hand and folded it into a fist.

"It sounds crazy, I know, but I have markings on my back as well." I shifted my shirt, revealing the markings of the roman numbers on my back and the pact with Rainbow that seemed larger now. The pastor ran his hand over them but said nothing. I couldn't hear his thoughts either, unlike the others. Why?

"Listen, Domenic, come tomorrow morning when you have some time. I would like to have a word with you then and see what the church can do to help you."

Did he think I was crazy, or had he seen this before?

I nodded.

The pastor smiled as he got out of the car, and I watched him enter the church. He had to think that I had lost my mind. Tomorrow would tell.

I munched on the snacks I had bought and headed back to the bar. Despite the small number of cars outside, quite a few people were inside. I didn't see any familiar faces, and my seat by the bar was taken, forcing me to sit in one of the chairs generally reserved for those having something to eat. Zora moved back and forth across the bar as people raised their hands to grab her attention. It was nothing like a couple of days back. Was that even real? What if I had met a demon? Samael, the bartender, the strange people. None of it made sense, but all of it was happening. The black seats were still so damn hard, and the table was shaky, but I knew what I had seen on the seventeenth. It couldn't have changed—some demonic forces had to be at work.

I ran both of my hands through my hair and cradled myself. Nothing made sense. How could they dismiss what happened as a shooting? I should not have let Ash go. Her mother wouldn't pick up and leave. Rainbow, Ash, Samael. How was it all connected? The more I thought about it, the more my head ached.

"Good day, sir."

I looked up to see the waiter was now in front of me, getting out a notepad.

"Bacardi and coke," I said.

He nodded as he scribbled on a pad and moved briskly away to the next table.

"Cheap bastard, probably here to get free drinks as usual."

His lips weren't moving, but his voice, like the others, was in my head. What was happening to me?

I turned to the other tables, and there were so many voices again. It was like the unsheathing of masks, thoughts, opinions, and deep evil consciousnesses. It was everywhere and nowhere, seeping into my head.

I closed my eyes, and it was all gone. Deep breaths, Domenic; I was probably going mad from all the thinking. When I opened my eyes again, the waiter made his way to me.

My phone vibrated a message.

Kim: That land is mine. Domenic, back off before it is too late.

"Your Bacardi and coke, sir," he said as he rested the glass on the table. "And a glass of our finest tap water."

A woman screamed as I took the glass. Her voice sent an uncomfortable tremor through the room. Armed men wearing all-black baggy clothes and ski masks moved forward, pushing anyone in their path. With the weapon they held in their hands, they struck those who didn't scramble away.

People panicked as they screamed. They ducked under the tables or cowered into the bathroom. Despite the tension that was in the air, an unnatural calm settled on me. I lowered myself under the table and kept my eyes trained on the men. One remained at the entrance as the other three men made their way to the bar.

The men fanned out, pushing through anyone in their path.

"I hoped this would all go smoothly."

"My gun doesn't have bullets."

"These girls look lovely. I really need my fix."

"I am going to get the phones and wallets."

The men's voices were in my head. I looked at them, but their lips didn't seem to move. A brawny man threatened Zora with a gun pointed at her head at the bar. His blond hair poked out the back of his ski mask. Zora's entire body trembled. My fist tightened.

"This girl is hot."

"Dump all your wallets and phones in here!" another hollered as he passed around a few brown paper bags.

"We can probably get some extra money on the side after we sift through the wallets."

The other man peered outside the door to ensure no one else had entered. The last man had gone back into the kitchen.

"I hope it all goes well. I really need this money."

These men were stupid. How much money did they expect to get from us? One gunman was now pointing his gun at me, motioning to place my stuff inside the bag. I complied, placing the meager money I had inside and my Nokia phone. Still, why could I hear their thoughts?

My gaze returned to Zora. The man wasn't too happy about the money taken from the till. He motioned his gun to the bartenders menacingly. His hands looked unsteady. He pointed at a drink in the bar, and I couldn't make out what he was saying as Zora handed it to him.

"This isn't what I expected."

"I don't know what to do from here."

"Maybe we should just leave before things get worse."

"It's not a lot, but it's better than nothing."

There was a loud thud as a man near the bathroom entrance struggled with the shortest of the gunmen. He pushed him up against the wall, and their hands dangled for control of the gun. People scampered as a gunman near me aimed his weapon. A shot went off, and my ears rang. I covered them and lay flat against the ground. The man who had struggled with the gunman fell face-first to the ground, taking the gunman down with him. Another shot bellowed in the air.

"Anyone else want to be a hero?" the gunman standing beside me hollered.

"If he turns, I will take him!"

"We have to take him!

"If someone jumps in now, I will do it!"

"That bastard took all of my money!"

"Screw you!"

Their voices were like raging thunder engulfing the bar. If I did something now, the rest would follow.

I looked around. Outside, the siren blared, and whimpering filled the bar. The gunman was struggling to get the moaning half-dead man off him. Other people wanted to attack him but were gauging the gunman beside me. The other man at the door seemed distracted by the sirens, and the last had snuck into the kitchen. I took my chance.

"The cops are outside. I didn't sign up for this. If they catch us, we're done. What do I do? What do I do?"

I counted in my mind: one, two, three.

I rushed him. My sudden burst caught him by surprise, but his gun rang off. A burning sensation passed over my skin. The assault gave me the advantage as I quickly pinned him to the ground. He flopped around like a fish out of water. The others pressed forward, attacking the man in the bathroom, and some even came and held down the one beside me, taking away his gun as he called for help.

By the time the one at the door turned, the police had rushed inside. In an exchange of gunfire, a bullet landed in the gunman's head. A police officer put handcuffs on the hands of the man I was on. Then they cuffed the next assailant by the bathroom. They were taking everyone outside as they formed a perimeter.

"There is one more," I said, and pointed. "He is in the kitchen."

"Police, Police! Come out with your hands up."

The perimeter formed around the kitchen as they got me up, and the gunman, realizing the end, exited with his hands up.

My eyes scanned for Zora when the pain finally kicked in. My hand and eyes darted to my arm. I had been shot in the shoulder. Noticing my wound, the police officer asked me to stay down as he placed pressure on it with a cloth from the bar.

"Are the people in the bar safe?" I asked the police officer, who seemed more interested in my wound.

"They should be fine," he said. "Come, let's get you outside and examined by the paramedics." He motioned me over as his  lingering thought touched my mind. All the robbers seemed to be P10s and P9s.

I followed, finding most people outside with light wounds being treated by paramedics. I stood close by, waiting to be examined. Why didn't I feel a single thing? What was happening to me? An unnerving calm amongst a violent sea of people. Their thoughts and their opinions only made me feel that we were not of the same cloth. Not a single thank you in any of their ungrateful minds. If it weren't for—

"Domenic?" Zora called me. I couldn't hear her voice in my head. Why?

I exhaled.

From her face, she was visibly shaken. Blood ran down my shoulder as her hand came to her mouth.

"Are you okay?" a voice said behind me as the paramedic's face came into view. He looked at my shoulder. "Fred, we might need a stretcher!" Before placing a hand to guide me. "Come with us, sir."

"Don't worry, I will follow," Zora said, and smiled weakly.

I nodded.

The paramedics took me up and the others with injuries. They placed us in the ambulance van. One sat beside us. He was a youthful, petite man with wide eyes, thick eyebrows, and a thin nose. The patrons' faces seemed bleak, and their minds were not on their wounds but on what they would likely expect at the hospital.

"Another unfortunate batch," the paramedic's voice came into my head.

"The bullet went straight through. Can you feel your arm?" the paramedic asked as he scratched his short, black hair.

"Yeah, I can still feel my arm," I said.

"That's good. How is the pain? It's still bleeding heavily."

"Despite the bleeding, I don't feel much pain at all," I said.

How was I going to pay for this medical bill? I was broke. It was not unheard of for hospitals to throw people out if they couldn't afford to pay after stealing their organs as compensation. If they pulled up anything on my credit, they would know that I am heavily in debt. Would they add it to my already high bills?

"Is this wound really that serious?" I asked.

"Well, we have to make sure. If it had hit a large blood vessel, like an artery, you could have died."

"Die? Then where would my soul go?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself," I said.

There were many potholes on the road, and every time the vehicle passed over one, my body shook. The siren blared, and the driver swerved like a crazed lunatic. Those in the van cried, prayed, and moaned in response.

"Should I have gotten on to this ambulance?"

"They will throw us out."

"I don't have enough money."

Fragments of the passengers' thoughts came to me as they licked their wounds and rubbed their hands. I cradled my head in my hand. I had to risk it. If anything, I could probably fall back on the hotel and that I had money coming. Would they allow that? Still, I did a good thing; that has to count for something.

The doors of the ambulance van opened to angry, hoarse shouting. The sunlight crept inside as the paramedics took us out. Thousands of people with signs marked red with A were held up. Some were peaceful, and others were forcing their way towards the hospital entrance as security guards and regular staff ran to try to keep them back. Fistfights ensued. Rage and hate took these people's minds. I swallowed my saliva and glimpsed Zora rushing from her car parked in the middle of the road as they hastened us inside. As we approached the door, Zora sprinted to my side. We entered, and it closed as we walked through. In a matter of seconds, the protestors were pounding on it. The commotion drew more, people who ran forward in protest. The paramedics held the door.

"Welcome to the Maradona Hospital," a robotic voice chided from the front desk. "Please proceed in a line and wait your turn."

Someone screamed, "Shit!" and stepped away from the door.

Zora rubbed against me, her hands gripping mine for a brief moment. As the surrounding voices became a chaotic thunder storm.

Others watched on, and some tried to push through the line in front of us.

Behind a desk, a petite, double chin woman checked the credit scores of those entering. She got to her feet as the commotion brewed further. Five security guards rushed to help the paramedics at the door.

A security guard yelled at her, "Just give them tags and help hold the door with us before we get overwhelmed.

She affixed red numbered tags to the people in the line in front of me. Upon reaching me, she wrapped it around my wrist and said. "Follow the others."

I nodded, trailing behind the others with Zora beside me.

It wasn't long before I was in a hospital bed. Bright lights. Beeping sounds. A doctor was standing beside me. He had light skin, a shiny bald head, and sags drooping around his slanted, small eyes. The man asked me many questions about my wound and any pain I was experiencing before he conducted tests that felt excessive. Every time I asked him if it was necessary, he would tell me yes and that if I came back, it could be worse or life-threatening. He cleaned my wound, extracted bullet pieces, and wrapped fresh bandages on it while humming a sound. Zora stood in the room's corner, silent, her eyes on me, and she left when she had to and returned when she was allowed. He placed a drip on my arm and elevated it above my heart. They shifted us to another room with many beds filled with patients with red tags. One by one they were called outside until only me and Zora remained. The room radiated an unfriendly bleakness as I lay on the uncomfortable bed.

"Are you okay, Domenic?" Zora asked, standing beside me.

"I am fine."

"You're sure? You didn't react to anything the doctor did."

"It didn't hurt. Was I worrying you?"

She nodded her head as footsteps approached us, and the door opened.

"Wonderful news, Mr. Foster," the doctor said, closing the door behind him. "it's only a flesh wound. We were concerned about brachial artery or brachial plexus damage, but luckily that doesn't seem to be the case. I will write you a prescription for antibiotics."

I looked at him blankly. "Does that mean I am okay?"

"Yes, you're fine. Treatment for your wound will be sufficient. We will release  you later tonight with a prescription for some medicine."

"Great," I said as I lay on the bed.

Zora had a bright smile on her face as she held my hand. It felt nice, but I don't think her reason was what I had in mind.

There was a knock on the door, and an old freckled woman with small, slanted eyes like the doctor entered. She adjusted her glasses, looking at me and then at Zora. Pinned on her shirt was the tag Hospital Administrator. She entered alongside the young male doctor. From the look on his face and hers, I immediately knew what would happen here.

She gave a fake smile. "Right. Mr. Domenic. We understand that this happened during a robbery, but how will you be paying? Could you give us your last three-digit numbers so we can place them in and receive your credit score?"

Her voice was in my head. "First, all of this trouble outside with those bloody protests. That allowed those lower Pelgarian patients to slip in and most of them can't pay. The highest was P7. This one, in particular, Pelgarian, P4 he must be broke. Maybe I should have gotten security to come with me here in case we need to take him to an operating table."

"Probably going to have to throw him out or jail him." The doctor's voice scoffed in my head.

I paused. I would be thrown out and organs harvested or even jailed if I told the truth. The doctors wouldn't believe a word from me about my fortune without proof.

"It's fine. I will be paying for his medical bills," Zora said.

"Haratian?" The hospital administrator's eyebrow rose before giving a smile.

The unexpected words made me turn to Zora, but after she showed her I.D. marked with her ethnicity, the hospital administrator nodded her head. I waited for them to depart before I spoke.

"Why would you do that for me?" I asked.

Zora smiled. "I knew exactly what would happen if you didn't pay, and I have seen you long enough to know that facial expression. You couldn't afford to pay, Domenic, but that's fine. I know you will figure out a way to pay me back later."

I reached my hand out to her. "Zora —"

She continued, "Your health and safety are far more important, especially after what you did today. If you didn't do what you did for the police to come in, they could have hurt more people. You don't need to be burdened with something like this. It's the least I can do to say thank you."

I was speechless.

She chuckled. "You don't have to stare."

"Sorry," I replied, "I am surprised. Few people ever help me. Thank you."

She smiled.

Deep within my mind, I noted I would repay her for this kindness.

When I was discharged, Zora guided me out of the hospital when I got up. It was almost as if I was a child. We stepped outside. Flashing lights hit my face, and a string of questions followed. One caught me. The woman was short and thin. She wore a brown uniform and flicked the strands of brown hair from her oval face as our eyes met. It was the woman I had heard over the radio so many times, and for the first time, I was the featured story.

I was quickly shuffled towards the car by Zora.

"Mr. Foster, how do you explain your actions at the bar?" the woman asked.

"I didn't think anything of it. I just did what I thought would be the best thing to allow the police to get in. I was also not the only person who did something."

"How did you get the upper hand on the gunman?"

"He was distracted."

"How bad was your injury?"

"I was shot in my arm. The doctor said I would be fine. It's nothing compared to other people who were hurt more seriously."

I was now in front of Zora's car. It was quite modern, maybe a year or two old. We both got in as the reporters asked more questions.

As she was about to drive off, I said, "Thanks for the questions, but unfortunately I won't be able to answer them all. I hope for the best for those who were with me in the hospital."

Zora didn't wait for a response before she drove off.

"That was unexpected," she said to me.

"Yeah, that was probably the most attention I was ever paid in my life."

"Really?" She laughed. "I can see why. You handled yourself well, though."

"You think so? Thanks a lot, most people think—"

"That you can't? You're a P4 If I remember correctly. That means you have a far better access to a general education than most  below or something like that. It really shows."

I nodded. "Some very small basic rights. Many of the others ranked below me have no rights at all." I tightened my fist. "At the end of the day our ranks still counts for nothing. It is all for more control in a failed, corrupted system."

We were both silent.

"I didn't know. That is probably why they did it then. I am sorry it must sound pretty silly for a Haratian to be talking about class with you. When the slightest trail in my voice makes people bend over backwards in this country and others hate the life of me."

I looked at her. "No it's fine, to me you're different from everyone else."

"The robbers, the police identified them as P10s and P9s, they probably couldn't get a job."

"Probably," I said.

"You think things could have been different? I am really concerned about a lot of things. Do you think if the government —"

"I don't know."

"I see, in the coming days I don't know what might be next for the bar." Zora paused and exhaled." Honestly Domenic, when I saw you hurt, it really made me worry. I never knew you were so brave."

"I really wasn't thinking when I did it. I just didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially you."

I saw her glance again at my ring as I rubbed it between my fingers. There was more silence between us.

I wanted to say more about the hospital and let her know I would repay her soon. I could see, however, that merely mentioning that to her would not dissuade her, and she would only think I was crazy. After all, how does a man who was always broke suddenly inherit a fortune?

Before long, we were back at the bar's parking lot. There was a sudden change in her behavior. It seemed the place still brought back memories from earlier.

"So, here we are." She glanced at me. "Here." She handed me my wallet and phone.

I flinched. As I took it, I didn't know what to do. I smiled awkwardly at Zora as I got out of the car.

"Thanks again," I said. I walked over to Betty. She watched me get in. As I waved my hand, she drove off.

Who was protecting who? The wind seemed colder as I looked again at the area where Martini used to work. There were other girls there, strutting around. I started Betty up as I pulled out of the parking lot. What became of her little boy?

Darkness surrounded me, and the light from my car barely pierced it. I would have to make a serious decision about what to do next. Where would I go now?

I pulled into a gas station and parked at the side. My hand rested on my head, and my eyes fell on the clock. Shit! It wouldn't be long before I was there again. I swallowed my saliva and pulled out the cigarette box and lighter from my pants. Withdrawing a single cigarette, I placed it on my lip. I lit it and lowered my car seat back.

The fumes entered my nose.

Do you need my help, Domenic? Rainbow whispered in my head.

My eyes glanced around the car. There was no one there.

"What do you want from me!?"

She chuckled. "There is no one to protect you, only me, and that is all I have done, Domenic."

"Tell me everything that is going on. What's happening to me? Why am I being dragged into that world and how do I escape?"

"I can tell you everything you want to know. If you promise to come to me."

I exhaled the smoke, removing the cigarette from my mouth. I bit on my short nails and spat out a piece of my fingernail. "Fine."

Rainbow chuckled. "Great, see you soon."

August 22nd, 2025

#

Here I was again, back at hell's gate, surrounded by the shell of the gas station. The cigarette and the lighter were still in my hand.

Standing in the center, surrounded by hundreds of brown, winged humanoid-looking creatures with bird-like beaks, was Rainbow. She wore a white dress, dancing a waltz closed changes with her naked feet on the blackened ground. It was a mocking dance that Shalindi and I had once practiced together. Then her voice sang my school's song.

"We are the blessings of Pelgaria,

Standing strong despite any hysteria,

We stand for unity and peace and say no to division,

Equal by our worth and not by our birth,

We give thanks to our Mayor,

The lion, the savior, the purveyor."

I shivered as I got out of the remnants of the car, and their gazes fell on me.

A smile was on her face as a single black wing flapped behind her back. "Welcome back, Domenic."