Out Of The Frying Pan
(D)

	The man beside her coughed and Rachael jumped, jerking the steering
wheel
slightly to the left.  The wheels of her car squealed in response.  One
lane, a shoulder and several feet of demolished scrub-brush later, she
finally got the thundering beast under control.
	"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..." she muttered through clenched teeth.
The
wheels of her mustang regained the hot pavement and screamed into flight.
Wide green eyes scanned the mirrors for any sign of pursuit.  Nothing.  She
was still alone.  Alone with a wounded stranger...
	He cleared his throat, softer this time, and Rachael only winced.
The car
stayed within its painted boundaries.
	"Please," the soft masculine voice said.  "May we slow down?"  A finely
boned hand reached out to touch her white-knuckled
one-with-the-steering-wheel fist.  The touch was cold and made her hand
tingle.  She risked a glance at the hand, then turned her gaze on the
speedometer.  The needle was buried in the far right of the chamber.  It
told her nothing.  She chose to ignore it.
	The penetrating touch persisted.  "Please.  We've surely outrun them by
now...  If they survived the explosion."
	Rachael's eyebrows beetled at the word.  Explosion.  It brought with it
images.  Images she wasn't at all sure she wanted to see.  Fire.  Mirrors.
Beasts.  Her apartment.  She remembered.  The apartment had exploded just
about the time they had reached the car.  Chemicals in the darkroom most
likely.  The deafening sound had mingled with a sound of rage rising to a
crescendo of angry pain.  Adrenaline pumped through every part of her body
and spurred her into action.  Somewhere during the frenzy of escape her
mind chose to shut itself off.  Until now.  The spell was broken.  She
looked up, into the rearview mirror, to see a shimmering ribbon of asphalt
stretching back toward a wavering desert horizon.  Mountains, blue and
undefined at this distance, loomed before her.  She wasn't lost.  Her
subconscious had seemed to know what it was doing.  She probably wouldn't
have chosen this most logical of directions consciously.  Sanctuary loomed
before her.  She had escaped.  The beasts were gone.  Destroyed along with
her apartment...
	The thought struck her like a sandbag to the stomach.  Seconds
ticked by
and the desert seemed to hold its breath.  The image of destruction
solidified and took on meaning.
	"No!" she screamed.  The blond man jerked his hand back in response.
"Goddamnit!  No!"  She pounded impotently at the steering wheel with a numb
right hand, then seemed to go suddenly limp.  The speedometer lurched back
to life, recording the failing mileage as the speed dropped.  Without
warning she wrenched the wheel violently to the right, skidding onto the
gravel strewn shoulder, throwing up a shower of rocks and dust.  The door
flew open and she was out of the car before it had come to a complete stop.
	Running into the middle of the two-lane highway, Rachael threw back her
head and screamed her frustration and anger to the sky.  A car door closed
behind her and she turned to find golden eyes full of confusion and pain
staring at her over the top of the car.
	"You!" she shouted, stabbing an accusing finger in his direction.
"Do you
know what you have cost me?  Do you have any idea how long it took me to
save up for that equipment?"  A sob caught in her throat.  "Everything I
owned was in that apartment!"
	The man reacted as though he had been struck, staggering back with arms
held before his face.  The tattered, bloody shirt came into view and the
flood of angry words froze in Rachael's throat.
	"Oh, god..." she whispered.  "What am I doing?"  She moved around
the car,
wiping at her eyes with the knuckles of her hand.  The man stepped back as
she approached him.  Aware of his retreat, she stopped.
	"I'm sorry," she stammered.  "Please, let me help you.  I don't
know what
I was thinking of... I...  Really, I'm so sorry..."
	The stranger lowered his arms and bowed his head in submission.  "I
too am
sorry," he said.  "It seems to be part of my curse to cause destruction and
hardship wherever I go."
	The soft-spoken words lanced through her like a dull knife.  Guilt
drew it
deeper into her heart.
	She sniffed and brushed back a strand of auburn hair from before her
flushed face.  "No, it isn't your fault.  It could have happened..."  She
stopped as the logic centers of her brain caught the thought and rebelled.
	"Anywhere," the stranger finished the thought for her, swaying
unsteadily
on his feet.  "And anywhen."  He closed his eyes and tried to steady
himself.
	Rachael took a step forward, reaching out to help, then drew it back
uncertainly.  "Who are you?"  It was fear which made her ask the question.
"Where did you come from...?"
	"He looked up slowly.  "I... am a visitor."
	She nodded, green eyes wide and sparkling.  "No shit.  A visitor from
where?"  The bleeding stranger suddenly lurched forward into her arms.  She
caught him and gently lowered him to the ground.
	"Please," he whispered tensely.  "The pain..."
	"I'm such an idiot!"  Rachael answered, brushing the soft golden
hair out
of the stranger's drawn face.  "I'm standing here asking you stupid
questions when what you need is a doctor..."
	"No!"  His eyes snapped open, hypnotizing her with their dizzying
depths.
"No doctors.  It is not necessary."
	"Not necessary?" Rachael said.  "You're bleeding to death!  How can you
say it isn't necessary?"
	"It will soon be over," he gasped.  "I must let it run its course."
	Rachael's mouth went dry.  "No.  You aren't going to die like this.  I
won't let you."  He closed his eyes in a spasm of pain and she shook him
gently.  "I don't even know who you are.  Please, don't die..."
	The golden eyes opened once again and a thin smile crept onto the
stranger's face.  "You misunderstand.  I have no intention of terminating
in this manner.  I wouldn't give them the satisfaction."  Seeing the
confusion and fear in her eyes, the stranger lifted a hand to comfort her.
"It is not the injury itself which causes the pain.  It is the process of
regeneration which does so."
	She shook her head slowly from side to side.
	"Look closely at the wound," he said.
	She didn't want to.  She had been doing her best not to look at the
bloody
mess.  His eyes seemed to know this and in them she found the strength to
do so.  Drawing a deep breath, Rachael turned her eyes on the ripped flesh.
She could see where the razor sharp claws had torn furrows in the skin.
White bone peeked through in places where the blood had not begun to
congeal.  Choking back the bile which threatened to rise in her throat, she
made herself look closer and gasped at what she saw.  The gashes were
reversing themselves!  As she watched, the torn flesh seemed to slowly meld
itself together at the farthest extremes of the injury.  It was as though
the flesh was pulling itself back together from the outside edges in.
	She looked up at him, eyes full of bewildered conviction and he
closed his
own with a shudder.  It was then that she realized just what the effort of
the conviction was costing him.  "I understand," she said.  "What should I
do?"
	"We must go somewhere so I can rest," he answered hollowly.
	"Should you be moved?"
	"It is not wise.  But neither can we stay here.  Help me to rise."  She
nodded and offered her shoulder for support.  He was extremely light.
	He smiled at her surprise.  "Different physiology."  A wave of pain
lanced
through him and he grimaced.  "You have a place...?"
	She turned in the direction of the distant blue mountains and nodded.
"Yes.  I... know of a place.  It isn't too far...  C'mon."
	Getting him back into the car wasn't nearly as hard as Rachael
thought it
would be.  He dropped into a fitful doze almost the second she laid him out
in the cluttered back seat.  While climbing back behind the wheel and
restarting the car, one thought lodged in Rachael's mind.  This guy was a
complete stranger.  Alien and beautiful, yes.  She looked back over the
seat at him.  But for all that, she still didn't know his name.

		*					*
			*

	"Albion."
	She stared in fascination at the perfect silhouette his face made
against the orange glow of the setting sun.  Another long pull at her
cigarette.  Another long exhale.
	"Albion what?"
	He turned to her with a half grin.  "Just Albion."  His liquid eyes
burned
into her own and she looked away, laughing huskily.
	"You have to have a last name."
	"Why?"  Soft, gentle.
	"Well, everybody has one... don't they?"
	"I don't."
	She studied the technicolor glow in the west, digesting the
information.
Not so unusual considering the things she had seen in the last 24 hours.
	"Just Albion, then."
	"People always seem to know me when they have need to."
	Why had he said that?  What she said next caused her to wonder even
more.
	"I like the name a lot."
	"And I yours, Rachael Shaw."  Her shiver did not escape him.  "If
you are
cold, we can go inside."
	"No.  It isn't that... I... don't know why..."  The words trailed
off into
silence.
	"Why are you uncomfortable here, Rachael Shaw?"  The soft voice
inquired.
"Does my strangeness still upset you?"
	"No, of course not."
	"Then it is this place.  You have not spent any more time within
its walls
than has been absolutely necessary.  Is it accursed?"
	She laughed again, looked at him, then shook her head.  "No, it isn't
accursed.  Not really.  And you can just call me Rachael."
	This puzzled him.  Hadn't she just moments before been making a big
deal
about last names?  He shrugged and turned back to the problem at hand.
	"Not really, Rachael?"
	Darkness closed around them and she found herself staring at the
glowing
tip of her cigarette, remaining silent far longer then she had intended.
	"The cabin doesn't belong to me... anymore."  He was still looking
at her.
She could tell, without really seeing him.  The thought somehow comforted
her.  "I used to live here with my husband... ex-husband... Tom."
	She paused to look around her, at the trees and the shadowed mountains
blotting out the brightening stars like the rim of a bowl all around.
"This used to be our home.  Our oasis in the desert.  Our sanctuary from
life's troubles."  She sighed and looked down at the cigarette again.  It
had burned itself out.  She considered lighting another, then thought
better of it.
	Grinding the butt under the toe of her shoe, she continued.  "Tom only
uses this place during hunting season now.  It's a dead place in more ways
than one, now.  Anyway, that's why I brought you here.  I knew it would be
safe... to heal our wounds."
	The silence lengthened and the darkness became complete before
Albion broke it.
	"The healing process is complete.  We need not remain any longer if it
makes you uncomfortable."
	"No," she said quietly.  "It's alright.  Quite frankly, I have no where
else to go."
	"Perhaps I should leave then."
	"Please don't." She felt awkward about the way the words came out and
fumbled to correct them.  "You can't exactly go off with your clothes in
the shape they're in."  What clothes were left, she thought.  They had had
to burn the shirt.  he seemed comfortable in just the jacket, but both it
and the tights (she couldn't bring herself to think of them any other way)
bore patches of dry blood.
	"Then I shall not wear them."
	"Excuse me?"
	"If the sight of my clothing will upset people here, I simply will not
wear them."
	"What did you have in mind?" she asked, embarrassed by the smile which
crept across her darkened face.  She was sure he could see it.
	"The climate is quite pleasant here," he continued blithely.  "Am I
mistaken in thinking that clothing here is merely decorative?"
	She laughed.  Not like a grown woman, but more like a high school
virgin
sharing a dirty secret with a friend.
	"People would probably have more to say about that than if you went out
with them on."
	He seemed to think about it.
	"Then it would seem that we have a problem.  I have no wish to offend."
	She chuckled.  He seemed so serious in his dilemma.  Almost like a
child.
A thought came to her.
	"I think I may have a solution.  C'mon."  She stood and took him by the
hand, leading him inside.
	It took a few tries to get the oil lamp lit, but once burning, she
led him toward the back of the cabin.
	"This was Tom's room," she said opening the door.  "He always leaves
clothes laying around wherever he goes.  He's got the most widely dispersed
wardrobe of anybody, male or female, that I know.  I still wonder just how
many of his women really do have a pair of his pants as tokens of
affection."  She smiled.  It hadn't hurt to say it.  Albion wasn't the only
one healing in this place.  "See if there is anything in that closet to fit
you."
	There was.  Tom had been a little broader in the shoulders and
longer in
the legs, but on Albion, the differences didn't seem all that remarkable.
She glowed with enthusiasm when he emerged from the bedroom for her
inspection.  She knelt to cuff the pant legs, then leaned back to inspect
her handiwork.
	"I like it," she said.  "Turn around so I can see all of you."
	He did so.  She was smiling even more broadly when he completed his
turn.
	"And I thought Tom had a nice ass," she smirked.
	Albion looked confused, then another thought seemed to cross his
mind and
his face lit up like a bulb.
	"I have something for you as well," he said, disappearing back into the
room and emerging just seconds later.  he held a wrapped bundle in his
hands which he held out for her to take.
	He unwrapped it as she rose up from her knees.  Her jaw fell open
when she
saw what the bundle held.
	"Where did you...?"
	"It's a camera," he said enthusiastically.  "My gift to you.  To
replace
the equipment you lost in the fire."
	She looked at him with tear-filled eyes.  He pressed the camera
into her
hands and she held it up for a closer look.  Yes, it was a camera, but one
unlike any she had ever seen.
	"It's beautiful," she sniffed.  "What are all these other buttons for?"
	He shrugged.  "For different things I imagine."
	"But where did you get it?"
	"I found it."  His face was a perfect mask of innocence.
	"Found it?  In there?"  She nodded toward the darkened room.  She
couldn't
imagine how that would be possible.  It didn't belong to her and Tom was
such an Neanderthal when it came to camera's he wouldn't own one.
	A slow grin spread over one side of Albion's flawless face.  "Well... I
suppose 'retrieved it' would be a more accurate answer.  It does belong to
me."
	She smiled and shook her head.  Curiouser and curiouser, she thought.
Sparkling green eyes turned back to the marvelous instrument.  It was small
and slender, very light and oh...
	"...so beautiful.  Is it very complicated?"
	"Not terribly."
	"What type film does it use?"
	He looked confused.  "Film?"
	She eyed him curiously.  "I thought it belonged to you."
	He shrugged sheepishly and looked away.  "It does, but, I'm afraid I'm
somewhat inept when it comes to such things."
	"Well, we'll just have to test it won't we?" she said.  "Tomorrow,
when we
go into town for more supplies, I'll just pick up some film."
	Albion eyed her coyly.  "More supplies?"
	She met his golden gaze coolly.  Their warmth washed over her like a
soothing wave.  "Yes, more supplies.  We can't live on moldy bread and
canned spam, unlike some ex-husbands I know.  Besides, there's no telling
how long we'll be here..."
	His smile broadened and he nodded a quiet acceptance.

		*					*
			*

	Rachael wondered if they had blue jeans where Albion came from.  If
they
didn't, they sure as hell should.  She had never in her life met a man who
looked so good in them.  She continued to admire choice parts of his
anatomy as he loaded groceries into the trunk of her mustang.  It wasn't
just the jeans that looked good either.  He seemed to be wearing his red
flannel shirt just the way she liked it, with sleeves rolled up to the
elbows and front unbuttoned half way down, showing smooth muscular chest
(no scars!).  The thought that he could have read the images in her mind
came to her and she pondered it.  There was so much about this man that she
didn't know.  he had kept the fancy looking leather boots, but they seemed
to compliment the look.  With his long golden hair, he seemed to be
something out of the early seventies.  Her musings came to an end as he
turned and brushed a stray wisp of the silky stuff out of his eyes, smiling
boyishly.  Raising the camera, she snapped off three shots quickly, then
lowered it ruefully.
	"Shit.  Those would have been keepers."
	He looked at her blankly.  "May I see them?"
	She smiled.  "No film, remember?  They won't have any until next week."
	He looked confused.  "Is it really necessary?"
	"Is what necessary?"
	"Film."
	Rachael whistled.  "Boy, you really are inept with a camera, aren't
you?"
	Albion cocked his head.  "Aren't you curious as to how the photos
will look?"
	"What photos?" she asked, exasperation creeping into her voice.
"Albion,
you don't get photographs without film.  First you put the film into the
camera, then you take the pictures, then you develop the film.  Then, and
only then, can you look at the photographs.  That's how it works."
	He shrugged, still looking perplexed.  "If that is what you wish."  He
turned back to close the trunk of the car. She watched him roll the grocery
cart back to its place in the rack by the door and amble back.
	"Albion."
	"Yes Rachael?"
	"Is there something I should know about this strange little gift you've
given me?"
	He avoided her eyes.
	"There is something, isn't there?"
	"I didn't think it would matter," he mumbled.
	"Didn't think what would matter?" she slowly moved the camera away from
her body, to a safer distance at arms length.
	"That it doesn't like me," he said, then looked up suddenly.  "But, it
likes you."
	She stared at him.  "Huh?"
	"Ask it."
	"Huh?"
	"Its name is Flux."
	"Flux?"
	He nodded.  "Activate voice module, Flux dee dash six nine."
	"Albion, what are you..."
	[It's about time, you ingrate!]
	Rachael almost dropped the camera.  "Who?"
	[I'm sorry, Rachael.  I've been listening to this one babble since
he gave
me to you last night.  Everything he's told you up to this point can be
roundly ignored.  I would have corrected him had he not deactivated my
voice module!]
	"I didn't want to frighten her," Albion stammered.  "I wanted her to
become accustomed to the idea before..."
	[Hush!] the camera commanded.  [You're only making things worse.]
	Rachael stared, bug-eyed at the camera.  "You're alive?"
	[If you care to call it that, dear.  I'm sentient.  I wonder
though, why
would somebody with the obvious technical background you have be in need of
a fully automatic 'No-Step' camera?  I thought only idiots, like that one
before you, ever used us.]
	"My cameras and equipment were... uh... destroyed recently."
	[Oh, let me guess.  Albion had something to do with that, right?]
	Albion blushed a deep crimson.  "It wasn't entirely my fault..."
	[Of course not.  Neither was the burning of Rome.]
	"Um, you were a gift actually," Rachael interrupted.  "A very
special gift
from a very special friend."
	Albion smiled gratefully at her, prompting her to wonder just how
long the
feud had been going on.
	["a very special gift."  Oh my.  Well, maybe I was being a bit harsh.
Perhaps there is something of worth in this man after all.  I know it
certainly isn't photographic ability.  Now, to answer the question you two
were dancing around earlier.  I have no need for film.  Being fully
automatic, all you need do is press the red button marked "display" and
tell me which one of the shots you wish developed.  I'll do the rest.]
	"That's amazing!" Rachael said, turning the lightweight camera over
in her
hands to study it with a new appreciation.  "You'll have to explain the
mechanics of it to me sometime."
	[I'd be delighted, dear.  I can understand your confusion.  Having that
one explain my functions, it's a wonder you aren't' using me for a
projectile weapon.]
	Albion blushed again.  Red was beginning to look natural on him.
	Rachael pressed the red button.  "Can I see all three pictures please?"
	[And so polite too!  I just know we're going to get along.  Three
pictures, coming up.]
	No sooner had the camera spoken than three perfect 5 x 5 inch glossies
dropped out of the bottom and into her waiting hand.  The quality was far
superior to anything she had ever seen.  She said so.
	[Why thank you, dear.  From you that is quite a compliment.]
	"Well," Albion said, fidgeting next to the car.  "I'm glad that it
has all
been straightened out."
	Rachael lowered the camera, letting the strap hold her at hip level for
awhile.  "Thank you," she said, planting a kiss on Albion's cheek.  "It
really is a wonderful gift.  I like her a lot."
	He beamed.  Rachael turned away and stopped as something caught her
eye in
the distance.  "Oh, my god..."
	Albion followed her gaze and froze.  Two hounds, malignant and slightly
blackened from the fire, sniffed along the entrance to the supermarket.  He
reached out and took Rachael's hand, drawing her slowly toward the
passenger side of the car.  As if on cue, the two hounds looked up
simultaneously and spotted their quarry.  Instantly they were running,
howling for the kill.
	Albion spun and tried the door handle.  Locked.  And no time to fumble
with keys.  Without another minute's hesitation, he started out at a dead
run with Rachael in tow.
	"Where are we going?"  She shouted.
	"There!" he barked, pointing at a building on the other end of the
parking
lot.  A bar from the looks of it.  "Manny's" was painted across the front
of the building, just over the closed doors of the entrance.  The howls
grew closer and she began to wonder if they would make it.
	They entered the cool dark bar with a bone crunching smash,
flinging the
doors wide and tearing across the room before the bartender and the only
two patrons present could react.  Manny wasted no more time, however.
Reaching beneath the bar, he drew out a sawed-off shotgun, pumped it, and
stared around in pursuit.  The two customers threw back their drinks and
began shuffling toward the door.  All froze in surprised bewilderment as
the first of the hounds gained the entrance and entered the shattered
doorway at a trot.  The other was close behind.  Both advanced cautiously,
teeth bared in horrific smiles.  Without thinking, Manny brought his
shotgun up and blew one of the smiles into oblivion.  The second hound was
on him before he had a chance to reload.

		*					*
			*

	Rachael shuddered behind the locked door of the ladies room.  Screams
continued to bombard them from the other side.  She cast an anxious glance
over her shoulder at Albion.  he had his hands and forehead pressed tightly
against the full-length mirror at the back of the small room.
	"My god," she whispered.  "Those poor men!  It's us those hounds
want, not
them!"  She turned to Albion.  "Do something!  Snap out of it, Albion!"
She moved to shake him.
	[Stop!]
	She did as she had been ordered, looking down at the bright instrument
hanging above her right hip.  "Flux?"
	[Don't touch him, dear.  I've seen him like this before.  I know it
looks
like cowardice, but at the moment he may be our only chance.  Just stay
close to him!]
	Something solid slammed against the door and Rachael spun around,
stifling
a scream.  A rasping sound followed.  A howl.  Then the beast began to tear
at the wood of the door, in a frenzy for the kill.  Rachael stepped back as
monstrous claws tore gouges in the wood like it was canvas.  A horrible
face thrust itself through the opening, peering at her with baleful red
eyes, filled with uncontrollable rage.  Seeing her only seemed to rouse the
creature to a more pronounced level of activity.  Splinters flew in every
direction.
	"Flux?"
	[Yes, dear?]
	"We're no going to make it, are we?"
	The camera was uncharacteristically quiet.  A splintering crash forced
Rachael to back up even further, pressing herself against Albion's back.
The creature gave a howl of victory and rushed the door one last time.  It
finally gave, pelting Rachael with scraps of splintered wood.
	[Quick, use me!] Flux commanded.  [The green button!]
	Without hesitation, Rachael raised the camera and pressed the
button.  A
searing flash filled the room with blinding light.  The beast backed up.
	[Again!]
	She pressed it again.  Another flash and the creature turned away,
howling
its fury.  An hand fell on Rachael's shoulder and she shrieked, pressing the
button again.
	"Come, Rachael Shaw," said a familiar voice.  "Take my hand."
	She did as she was told and followed Albion through the mist where once
the mirror had been.  Behind her the creature's howls of frustration faded
away into nothingness.

		*					*
			*

	They emerged in a small cluttered room with metal walls.  A smell
of decay
rose up to assault their nostrils.
	"Where are we?"  Rachael asked breathlessly, then jumped at the
sound of
shattering glass behind her.  She whirled around to find Albion standing
over the remains of a large ornately carved mirror.  He held a broken
bottle in one hand.
	"It cannot follow us now.  Not that way at least."  He turned to her.
"Are you injured?"
	"Surprisingly, no."  She raised the camera to eye level.  "Thank you,
Flux.  You bought us the extra time we needed."
	For once the little camera didn't have a comeback.  Rachael smiled and
looked around the room, wrinkling her nose in distaste.  "It smells like a
men's locker room in here."
	"Worse," Albion added.  "I believe the smell has its origin in that
contraption over there."  He pointed in the direction of a rickety
construct consisting of vats and tubes which seemed to occupy one entire
corner of the room.  One of the vats, the only one which wasn't covered,
threatened to bubble over with a foul burping liquid.  Suspended over the
vat was a valved stem from which the liquid seemed to emerge, drop by nasty
drop.
	"Who the hell are you?" a voice drawled from behind them.  Rachael and
Albion turned  to find an ugly looking weapon aimed in their direction.
Attached to it was a man.  He was bearded, with a tattered black vest, a
stained white shirt, wrinkled pants and military looking boots.  Despite
the obvious lack of decorum, he looked official and worse, filled the only
doorway out of the smelly room.
	"Shit!" the man said, stomping into the room.  "It ain't bad enough
we got
the whole friggin' Empire blowin' up our asses, now some bozo's gotta go
and bust up the only mirror on the whole damn ship!  The twin's're gonna be
pissed as all hell!"  He stopped and studied them more closely.  "Who the
hell are you anyway?  Spies?"
	The question went unanswered as an explosion rocked the vessel, causing
everybody to lurch sideways.  Only the bearded man succeeded in maintaining
his footing.
	"Shit!  They found us!"  He said to nobody in particular, then
shouted at
the walls, "Harvey!  Evasive maneuvers!"
	"I'm workin' on it!" a disembodied voice snapped.
	The man turned his attention back on Albion and Rachael.  "Well, spies,
you may have told 'em where to find us, but it's the last message they'll
ever get from you."
	"Wait, you don't understand...!" Rachael yelled, but the cry was
too late.
Max was already pulling the trigger.