Summary:  Winter - more than a year after Gary’s divorce.  Gary experiences the dark night of his soul.  Special thanks are extended to Peregrin Anna for beta reading this story and for all her comments and suggestions.

Spoilers:  The Pilot, The Choice, The Wrong Man and The Wall

Disclaimer:  All Early Edition characters are property of CBS, Sony and Tristar.  No infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this story.

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Shadow On the Snow
Installment 1
by Kathleen Lombardo
 

Chapter One:

"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
 Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
 Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
 Here the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
 Don’t go back to sleep.
  - Rumi (13th century Mid-Eastern poet)

"I can’t keep running anymore.  My lungs are going to burst," Gary gasped as he ran, weaving his way down alleys and side streets.  It was dark and the chilling wind stole whatever labored breath he had from his lungs. He stopped, leaned forward with his hands on his knees, panting for air, and tried to calm his racing heart.  Faintly, but loud enough to alarm him, came the sound of pursuing footsteps.  Looking frantically around, Gary tried to hear where the sounds were coming from … down the alley on the left.

Gary started running again, following the street under the EL.  The sound of the train overhead pounded its rhythm as if it too pursued him.  His breath came in gasps; fear etched his handsome features.  Suddenly, his foot slipped on an unnoticed spot of ice and sent him sprawling to the ground face first, the wind knocked out of him, his energy spent.  Lying exhausted, Gary heard footsteps coming closer.  Suddenly, hands grabbed him from behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning, Chicago.  Better dress warmly today.  It’s going to be a cold one!"

Gary slowly reached over and tapped the alarm to shut it off.  Then came the familiar "Meeoooww" and thump of the paper landing in front of his door.  He lay in bed, heart still pounding, adrenalin pumping through his veins, and he rubbed his face with both hands but made no effort to rise.  The cat meowed again, insistent for attention.

Running his hands through his hair, Gary slowly moved to a sitting position on the side of the bed, reluctant to make the walk across the loft to the door.  Images from his dream and the feeling of dread lingered in his mind, consuming his thoughts until a still louder "Meeeoooowww!" from the cat demanded his attention.

Walking slowly across the room, Gary felt leaden and tired.  He couldn’t shake his dream and hated the oppressive feeling of helplessness and fear that lingered.  He felt totally exhausted.  The dream brought back feelings he had when he was on the run from Marley some months back - feelings of isolation and unrelenting pursuit for a crime he did not commit. Though he thought he had succeeded in dealing with what had happened, he was plagued with nightmares of pursuit and capture.

Marley, pretending to be Dobbs, a renegade FBI agent, had set Gary up for the murder of Harry Hawks, who was an editor at the Chicago Sun-Times.  Marley also found Gary to be the perfect stoolie to take the blame for his own planned assassination of the President.  Gary would have been killed by Marley and accused of the death of the real Dobbs, but Detective Crumb arrived on the scene just as Marley was about to pull the trigger and shoot the President.  Instead, Marley ended up dead, lying at the feet of Gary, who was handcuffed to nearby scaffolding.  The lifeless face of Marley still haunted Gary's thoughts and dreams.

"When will these haunting dreams stop?" he thought.  Running, running, never quite able to escape.  In his dreams, he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Gary stopped in front of the door as his mind relived those fearful moments of his dream that were mixed with memories of what had happened with Marley.  He pressed his balled fist against his forehead, trying to rub the images from his mind.  The cat meowed still louder, intruding upon his reverie.

"Okay, okay!" Gary snarled at the cat as he opened the door.  The cat ran past him into the apartment and sat on the arm of the sofa, staring at him.  Gary reached down and picked up the paper and walked into the kitchen.  He threw the paper on the counter without looking at it and poured some milk for the cat.

"Meeeooowww!"  The cat had jumped onto the paper, demanding that Gary read it NOW.  Gary turned to the cat and scowled.  From experience, however, he knew the cat acted that way when there was something important and urgent for Gary to look at.

"Can’t you at least let me wake up and have a cup of coffee?" he said to the cat.  Gary scanned the front-page headlines until his eyes fell upon an article.

MURDER / SUICIDE AT LOCAL CAR DEALERSHIP:  Yesterday at approximately 9:15 a.m., Clyde Bowen entered "Big Al’s Big Deals Auto Sales" and, in a fit of rage, killed five people before taking his own life.  In a tragic accident just days before, Bowen’s wife and infant son were killed when their vehicle’s brakes failed. Mrs. Bowen and son were returning from a weekend visit with her family in Indiana.  Bowen’s vehicle had been serviced twice for a problem with the brakes, and he had been assured that the problem had been fixed…"

Images of the scene played in Gary’s head as he read the article.  How was he to stop this?  How do you take the rage and pain away from someone who has just suffered such a tragic loss?  Gary looked from the article to the cat, which just stared at Gary as if to say "You’ve got to stop this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Gary, what are you going to do?" asked Marissa, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee.

"I … I don’t know yet.  I’ve been thinking about it since I read the article.  His wife and son died in an accident out of state, so I couldn’t prevent that from happening."

Gary took a seat at the table near the bar with Marissa, a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other.  Early morning was one of the few chances that Marissa and Gary were able to sit quietly to talk about what was in the paper without the staff and customers around to overhear what they discussed.  He read over the article again, hoping for some insight into what to do.

"Gary, you’ve got to call Detective Crumb.  You can’t do this alone.  This man will have a gun!"

"What do I tell Crumb?  He already thinks I’m a nut case."  Gary’s voice held an angry edge.

"Well, you can’t just walk in there alone without a plan," said Marissa, obviously nervous about the situation.

"I know.  I know.  I will call him.  I have to think of a pretense to get him there.  I just can’t think right now," Gary murmured and stared at his cup.

"By the way, where’s Chuck?"

"He called to say he was running late and has to make a stop before coming in."

"That guy is never available when you need him!  I was hoping he would give me a ride to this car dealership and maybe help me this morning … "

"Now, Gary, you’re not being fair to Chuck.  You know he helps you when you ask him."  Marissa’s voice reflected the annoyance she was feeling toward Gary at that moment.  In her opinion, his tone of voice when asking about Chuck was unwarranted. Then she suddenly realized that Gary had been acting differently lately, and her voice softened.

"Gary, what’s the matter?  You aren’t yourself today.  In fact, you haven’t been yourself for days.  What’s going on?"  Although blind, Marissa always had the uncanny ability to "see" when someone else was in emotional distress.  She could hear the fatigue in his voice.  From years of friendship, Marissa had become finely attuned to Gary’s every mood.

"Oh - nothing.  I’m just tired.  I didn’t sleep well again last night.  The paper never gives me a break."  Gary rubbed his face with his hands as he thought back on his dream and situations he had been involved in since he started receiving the paper.

"Maybe if you talk about it, you would feel better," said Marissa as she reached out and placed her hand upon his arm.

"There's nothing to talk about.  Besides, it’s getting late.  I’ve got to leave.  At least there isn’t anything else in the paper for the rest of the day."

Gary rose, taking one last swallow of coffee before heading toward the door.  He gave a brief look back at Marissa as he walked, wondering if she could sense the inner turmoil he felt.

Marissa listened to his retreating steps as he headed toward the door.  Tension had been building up over the past few weeks for Gary.  She wished that he would be more open and talk to her about things.  He had become irritable and short tempered lately, and she felt helpless to do anything when he had become so unreachable and defensive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gary wrapped a scarf about his neck and pulled his coat collar up higher to protect his ears from the biting wind as he exited McGinty’s.  He turned to the right while looking at his watch and walked into a woman.

"Oh, excuse me, I didn’t see … Marcia?"

"Gary.  Hi."

"What are you doing here?" Gary asked as he looked around, expecting to see his ex-wife with someone.  She was the last person he would imagine seeing outside McGinty’s. Marcia had not changed much in the past year.  Still the polished professional, impeccably dressed, and still beautiful, Gary reluctantly admitted to himself.

"I came to see you.  I have been thinking about you a lot lately," Marcia said shyly, looking down then slowly lifting her eyes to meet Gary’s.  ‘God, but he has the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen,’ she thought to herself; however, she noted a deep sadness in his eyes that she did not remember being there before.

Gary just looked at her, unable to figure out why his ex-wife would come to see him after all this time.  When Gary didn’t respond, Marcia continued.

"So, how have you been doing, Gary?  I heard you own this bar now.  Funny, I never pictured you running a bar."  She looked at the front of McGinty's and then back to Gary but could not mask her obvious disappointment in the establishment.

"I’ve been fine.  I keep busy with the bar and things.  So what do you want, Marcia?" he said as he readjusted the collar of his coat.  The cold did not appear to bother Marcia, he thought.

"I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately - about you and about our marriage."  She paused, obviously debating whether to say what was on her mind.

"I made a mistake with you, Gary.  I was too hasty for a change, too ambitious, and didn’t recognize what I had with you.  You really are special, you know.  I didn’t fully appreciate your qualities until recently.  Maybe we could get together some time.  Try all over again."

Gary looked at her in disbelief.  He didn’t know how to respond.  Suddenly, he remembered the paper and Clyde Bowen and looked at his watch.

"Marcia, look, I’m kind of in a hurry right now."  He searched her face for a response.  "Maybe we can talk at another time …"

Before he could finish, Marcia wrapped her arms around Gary’s neck and gave him a slow, deep kiss.  Gary was surprised and started to pull away, but the familiarity of Marcia’s kiss drew him in and he instinctively wrapped his arms about her.  Memories of their years together poured into his mind, and he lost himself in her kiss and in her embrace.

Slowly, Gary pulled back and said softly, "I’ve really got to go. I’ll … I’ll be in touch with you, okay?"  Marcia gazed at him with a questioning look upon her face.  She had had a hard time bringing herself here and allowing herself to become vulnerable to Gary’s reaction.

"But, Gary … "  Before she could finish, Gary was already off running toward the EL and a train that would bring him to "Big Al’s Big Deals Auto Sales."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gary arrived at the dealership before Bowen arrived and glanced at the paper again.   He had not yet thought of what he was going to do to stop Bowen because he had been too preoccupied by thoughts of Marcia when he rode the train.  Whenever he went to a save, he usually mentally prepared himself ahead of time by trying to imagine how the situation would play out and would think of excuses to explain his presence if asked why he was in the right place at the right time.  But he was too distracted this morning by Marcia and was ill prepared to face Bowen.

Why was she there this morning?  What prompted her visit?  He really did not understand Marcia.  The day their divorce was finalized she said to him:  "It’s been fun.  No hard feelings."  Now she said she made a mistake.  When she had thrown him out on their anniversary and divorced him, he had not even suspected that his marriage was in trouble.  No hard feelings, sure!  Now she wanted to get together again.

Marcia had devastated him.  She was his only true love, and he had expected to be married until "death do us part" and to raise a family with her.  His heart started to race as he relived those months after the divorce of feeling lost and rejected, hurting and angry.  Yet, her kiss had pulled him in this morning, promising pleasures he had missed.  He had loved her so much - feelings he could never deny or lose.

As he walked about the showroom at Big Al’s, his mind consumed by thoughts of Marcia, he finally became aware of the man who had just entered the showroom.  Bowen.  It must be Bowen.  The man had a wild-eyed look as his gaze darted from person to person, searching for a particular face.  Though not as tall as Gary, Bowen was ruggedly built, with a powerful looking neck, and was dressed like a construction worker.

Gary walked over to Bowen, commenting on the vehicle he stood next to.  Bowen glared at him and turned away.  He was unshaven and disheveled and had his hand in the pocket of his work jacket.

Abruptly, Bowen demanded, "Where is Al Fergerson?  I want to see him NOW!"  One of the salesmen who were standing nearby said that Al was out of town and asked if anyone else could help him.  At that Bowen withdrew a gun.

"Yeah, you can pay for killing my wife and son …"

Gary, with his hands outstretched, stepped in front of Bowen.

"Clyde - that is your name, right?  Calm down.  You … you don’t want to do this.  It won’t bring your family back.  Think about what you’re doing."

Bowen turned on him savagely and grabbed him by the front of his jacket.  He held the gun just inches from Gary’s face.

"How do you know my name?  What do you know about what they did?"  As he spoke he pointed at the others in the showroom with the gun.  Anger, hatred and grief filled the face of Clyde Bowen.  The other people in the showroom ran and ducked down behind vehicles and desks.

"I know you have every right to feel upset about your wife and son dying, but these people are not responsible.  Why don’t you put the gun down …"

Bowen pulled back the hammer on the gun, and Gary heard it click into place as Bowen pointed the gun at Gary’s face again.  Gary watched in horror, shaking his head slightly side to side while whispering "no" over and over.  He could smell the gun oil; its acrid smell filled his senses.  Paralyzed with fear, Gary could not think of anything to say for the first time since he started receiving the paper.  He could feel perspiration bead up on his forehead and his heart raced.  His usually glib tongue and quick thinking, which had saved so many other situations from becoming disasters, failed him.  All he could do was look down the barrel of the gun.  Time stood still.  The hatred in the eyes of Clyde Bowen seemed to bore into his brain, draining him of thought and words.  Just as Bowen started to squeeze the trigger, Gary saw movement behind Bowen.

"Hobson!  What's the …?"  It was Crumb.  He had seen Gary and Bowen but had not seen the gun in Bowen’s hand.

Gary turned his head at the last second as the gun fired.  He felt the breeze from the bullet as it whizzed by his head.  The discharge of the handgun was just inches from his left ear.  At the same time, a policeman tackled Bowen from behind; and both Bowen and the policeman landed on top of Gary, slamming him hard against the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hobson!  Hobson!  Are you all right?" asked Crumb as he lightly tapped Gary on the cheeks.  "Come on, Hobson, talk to me!"

Gary’s eyes fluttered against the light, and his whole body jerked as fear startled him into consciousness.  Gary’s gaze darted about him as he attempted to sit up.  Crumb pushed him back down.

"Whoa, stay there.  Let the paramedic check you out first," Crumb said as he placed a hand upon Gary’s chest to keep him from sitting up.

Gary lifted his hand to his left ear, protectively covering it as he looked up at Crumb, confused.  He could not understand what Crumb was saying.  His hearing was muffled and his ears were ringing; his breath came in short gasps.  Just then the paramedic arrived to exam Gary.

"Hi.  Calm down.  I’m going to check you out," said the paramedic as he knelt beside an agitated Gary and checked Gary’s head.

Gary did not answer but only stared up with ashen face.  Turning to Crumb, the paramedic asked Crumb what had happened.  While Crumb answered, the paramedic continued to examine Gary.

"Mr. Hobson," the paramedic spoke loudly and made sure Gary had eye contact.  "You will be fine.  However, your hearing may be affected for a day or so, and you’ll probably have quite a headache.  I recommend that you go home, take some aspirin and try to rest.  You’ve had quite a shock, so try to be quiet for the remainder of the day.  If you experience any other symptoms or your hearing loss persists, contact your doctor."

The paramedic took Crumb aside and asked if he would make sure that Gary got home safely.

"Keep an eye on him.  He may suffer some post-traumatic stress.  It is not uncommon when someone has almost been killed.  From what you described, he’s a very lucky man to be alive."

"Yeah, sure, sure.  I’ll bring him home and talk to his friends," Crumb said as the paramedic picked up his equipment and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon entering McGinty’s, Gary walked over to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it quickly.  He did not greet anyone and seemed oblivious to all around him.

"Hey, Gar, what’s going on?" Chuck asked, looking quizzically from Gary to Crumb. It was out of character for Gary to ignore everyone and to drink anything but beer.  Without responding to Chuck or even looking at Chuck or Marissa, Gary walked across the bar and entered the office to go upstairs.  He appeared to be in a daze.

"Gary?" called Marissa.

"No, let him go, " said Crumb.  "The kid’s been through a lot today."  Crumb explained what happened at the car dealership and about Gary’s hearing being muffled.

"By the way, do youse know why Hobson was there today?  He left me a cockamamie message about overhearing someone at the bar say they was going to rob that dealership!"

"Well, he did say he was in the market for a new vehicle …" Chuck attempted to support Gary’s fabrication to Crumb.

"Aw, forget it, I don’t want to know.  But it was a good thing I was there or Hobson would be dead!"  While Chuck and Crumb continued talking, Marissa decided to go upstairs to check on Gary.

"Gary, Gary, can I come in?" asked Marissa as she knocked on the door.  Then she remembered what Crumb had said about Gary’s hearing.  She tried the doorknob and found the door unlocked and entered, calling to him.

Sitting on the couch with his head hanging down and his hands on the back of his neck, Gary didn’t hear Marissa’s approach or her calling to him.  In her uncanny way of knowing and sensing, Marissa instinctively went to the couch and sat next to him.  He was startled to see her.

"Gary, are you all right? Crumb told us what happened.  I’ve been uneasy all day about you.  Talk to me," Marissa demanded as she placed a hand on his arm, feeling the trembling of his muscles.  He had problems hearing and understanding her but finally responded.

"How do you expect me to be?  I can just about hear and my head feels like it will explode.  I came within inches of having my head blown off!" Gary snapped.  Marissa took his hand in hers as he continued.

"I didn’t think I’d walk away today.  I’ve had close calls before, but … but this was WAY too close.  I can’t do this anymore!  How many times will I be able to walk away?  There are times that I feel that I won’t make it through another day because of the exhausting tasks the paper sets … these life and death situations.  It is too much to ask of one person.  If it wasn’t today I got killed, it will probably be tomorrow.  Is that the price I have to pay to get the paper?  Sorry … but that subscription rate is a bit too high a price for me to pay!  This is NOT how I wanted to live my life," Gary spat out.  With his free hand he rubbed his head roughly.

Marissa reached out and drew him into her arms.  He stiffened at first but then surrendered himself to her sheltering arms and buried his face in her shoulder.  She could feel the tension and fear that he held inside and soon felt wetness from his silent tears upon her shoulder.

"Gary"  No response.  She spoke into his other ear.

"Gary" she said as she cradled his face in her hands.  "You’ve got to get a hold of yourself.  I understand this was a horrible situation, but you’re alive and so are six other people who would not be if you hadn’t been there today.  You’re going to be okay.  I don’t know why the paper puts you into these situations, but you always survive.  The PAPER wants you to survive."

"Mar … Marissa.  I … I don’t think I can do this anymore.  I WON’T do this anymore.  It was just too close," he repeated as he stared at the floor, slowly shaking his head.

"There was such a cold-blooded look of hatred in that man’s eyes - all directed at me.  I felt paralyzed.  What help was I?  I didn’t know what to say or how to handle the situation.  If Crumb hadn’t arrived when he did …  I’ve lost my nerve.  This is NOT what I wanted to do with my life.  I wanted to be married, have kids, and have a normal family life - not this hero business."

"You made all the difference by being there today.  Maybe you ARE living the life you were meant to live.  Have you ever thought of that?"  Marissa spoke in a calm, soothing voice as she gently stroked Gary's head, wishing she could take away his emotional pain.  Gary just shook his head in disagreement.  After a long pause, Gary finally replied.

"This morning when I left I ran into Marcia just outside McGinty’s.  She … she wanted to know if we could get together.  Maybe I’ll have a second chance with her.  Maybe I can start all over again.  She seemed different."  Gary looked at Marissa, seeking agreement from her.

"Gary, you listen to me.  You and Marcia were not meant to be.  It’s over.  She’ll only break your heart again.  Look what happened with your former boss Pritchard!  She told you she loved him yet she left him at the altar!  If you go to her now to run away from the paper, it won’t work!  She was never right for you, but you could not see it.  She was smothering your soul!"

"Yeah, and the paper is killing me!" Gary retorted.

Marissa covered her mouth with her hand, sorry now that she had been so blunt with Gary.  Marissa never could quite warm up to Marcia's snobbish personality.

"Gary, I think you should try to rest for awhile and think about this later.  You’ve just been through a terrifying experience and shouldn’t make any hasty decisions.  Rest.  I’m downstairs if you need anything."

Marissa slowly rose to leave and rested her hand on Gary’s shoulder before walking away.  Gary remained sitting for a while, rubbing his left ear and rocking back and forth.  He eventually stretched out on the couch with his arms wrapped protectively about his head until he fell asleep.
 

Chapter Two:

"Late, by myself, in the boat of myself,
no light and no land anywhere, cloud cover thick.
I try to stay just above the surface, yet I’m already under
And living within the ocean."
  - Rumi
 

Gary awoke and looked at the clock - 7:13.  It was dark out.  He must have been asleep for hours and could feel the stiffness in his body as he stood up.  His head was pounding, and he still had loud ringing in his ears.  When his stomach growled, he realized he had not eaten all day and decided he would go downstairs to get something.

As he glanced at the coffee table, he noticed the paper that he had thrown there earlier.  Within seconds, flashes of what happened in the morning flooded his mind.  He involuntarily jerked as he remembered the gun going off just inches from his ear.  His hands automatically reached up to cover his ears.  From out of nowhere the cat leaped onto the table and pawed at the paper.

"No!  I don’t want to look.  I’m not doing that anymore," he yelled.  The cat looked up at him.  If Gary didn’t know better, he would have sworn that there was sympathy in its eyes and a look that seemed to implore his attention.

"I’m through with the paper, do you hear me!"  The cat continued to paw at the paper.  Gary reached to move the cat away.  As he did so, he happened to glance at the headlines. In spite of himself, he started reading quickly through an article.

"UNIDENTIFIED MAN FOUND NEAR DEATH IN GRANT PARK" At approximately 10:00 p.m. last night police, making a routine patrol of Grant Park, found an unidentified man suffering from a stab wound and hypothermia.  Paramedics believe he had been outside for at least an hour in the frigid weather, an apparent mugging victim."

"Now what is this guy doing out by the water alone on a night like this?  His life is about as pathetic as mine is?"

Without realizing it, Gary’s innate sense of concern for others overcame his struggle to ignore the paper.  He read through the rest of the article for more specifics.  The article ended by saying the victim’s condition was critical and that it was not known if he would survive the night.

"This is it.  This is the last time," grumbled Gary as he rubbed the back of his head and shook the paper at the cat with his other hand.  He would do one last save.

When Gary entered the bar, the TV news was on, cautioning people to stay indoors because of dropping temperatures, with below zero wind chill, predicted for that night.  He had gone through the kitchen and grabbed a sandwich, which he brought with him to a table near the bar. Still having difficulty hearing, Gary did not respond when Chuck started talking to him.

"Gar - How you doing, buddy?" Chuck asked as Gary walked by the bar. Gary was unresponsive and visibly depressed, not looking up as he ate his sandwich.  Marissa walked over to Gary’s table and sat down.  He looked at her face quickly before lowering his gaze and mumbling a weak "Hi."  When Marissa placed her hand on the table, she felt the paper under her hand.

"Gary, why do you have the paper?"

"There … there is one last headline I must fix - a man mugged and left for dead tonight at Grant Park around 9:00.  They don’t expect the man to survive."  Chuck, meanwhile, was listening and joined them at the table.

"But this is it.  This is the last time.  I’m through with the paper," said Gary as he tapped the paper hard with his finger.

"Then why are you going out to save this guy?  I’ll go for you.  Stay here.  I can handle this," offered a concerned Chuck.

Gary looked at Chuck, scrunching up his face.  Because of his muffled hearing, Gary was trying to read Chuck’s lips.

"No!" spat out Gary when Chuck tried to take the paper from him.  Chuck's mouth dropped slightly; affronted that Gary would think he wanted the paper for reasons other than to help his friend out.  True, many times Chuck tried to get the paper to sneak a peek at sports scores or stock market reports.  Half the time he did it just to tease Gary, but today was not one of those days.

"No … " Gary said again in a very soft voice and looked down at the paper after seeing Chuck’s reaction.

"I’ve got to handle this.  I … I don’t want to leave any unfinished business.  I can’t just let this happen tonight now that I know about it.  After today, however, I’m not going to look at the paper anymore.  I will be like everyone else.  I’ll find out what happens after it happens instead of doing my 'hero' act running around Chicago," he muttered in a quiet and bitter voice.

"Gary, I don’t think you should go," Marissa cautioned as she grabbed his forearm.

"I think you should stay home tonight.  You’ve been through enough today."

However, Gary was not in the mood for discussion and he picked up his sandwich and headed toward his loft, not hearing the protests from Marissa and Chuck.
 

Chapter Three:

"How does a part of the world leave the world?
How can wetness leave water?

Don’t try to put out a fire by throwing on more fire!
Don’t wash a wound with blood!

No matter how fast you run, your shadow more than keeps up.
Sometimes, it’s in front!

Only full, overhead sun diminishes your shadow.

But that shadow has been serving you!
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.

I can explain this, but it would break the glass cover on your heart,
And there’s no fixing that.

You must have your shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe …"
  - Rumi
 

Gary arrived at the described location at approximately 8:30 p.m. He hoped that the presence of another person would be enough to discourage the mugger and prevent the attack.  Sometimes saves were possible without doing much.  While waiting, pacing back and forth to try to keep warm in the frigid night air, Gary looked out over the lake and thought about his conversation with Marissa.

No more paper.  Tomorrow he would begin a new life.  He would choose what he wanted to do each day instead of being controlled by the paper.  No more responsibility for every endangered citizen in Chicago.  Some things are "fated" to happen.  You can’t change fate, as Marissa was always so quick to remind him.  Besides, he knew from experience that his best efforts sometimes failed.  Why keep trying?

"I’ve had no personal life for over a year!" he muttered out loud to himself.  "No meaningful relationships, no family life, no vacations …" Feelings of anger and resentment filled him.

He thought of Marcia.  Maybe she had changed.  Should he try again?  He had been so in love with her and hurt so deeply when she left him.  Not wanting to relive the terrible feelings of rejection, Gary had erected a protective barrier around his memories of Marcia.  He did not want to face what problems they may have had together.  He had been totally surprised by Marcia divorcing him, and he had never truly reflected on their marriage or the reasons why Marcia left him.  Was he partially responsible for their break-up?

Glancing at his watch, Gary tried to keep warm by stamping his feet.  The bone-chilling wind cut through his layers of clothing.  He was glad he had worn his ski parka with the hood to cover his ears.  Already his hands and feet were starting to get numb from the cold.  All he could think about was going home - going to sleep and waking up to a new life.  He glanced up and down the street but could not see anyone.

His mind drifted to the events of the morning and his close call.  He involuntarily shivered.  He really did not want to think about his morning brush with death.  Flashes of Bowen’s face … the gun … explosion of sound.  His heart was pumping to the point of wanting to burst as these images filled his thoughts.  His left ear throbbed to the rhythm of his heartbeat as he tried to clear his mind of the images.  Marissa was right.  It was over.  He had to pull himself together.  He was very lucky he reminded himself.

Caught up in his thoughts and still not hearing well, Gary was oblivious to the approach of two men.  Gary became immobilized by fear and stood speechless when they flanked him.  Both men pressed toward Gary.  Their clothing was stained and shabby, too thin for the harsh weather; but they did not seem bothered by the cold because they were obviously under the effects of drugs.  One of them was at least a foot taller than the other and bore a dark purple scar that sliced across his nose and onto his right cheek.  It was most likely a souvenir from a previous incident.

"Okay man, give us your money!" yelled the taller of the two.

Gary could not understand him because of the man’s drug-slurred speech and Gary’s hearing difficulty.  The assailant pushed Gary in the chest as the other mugger grabbed Gary from behind, pulling his arms backward.

"I said I want your money, motherf - - ker," the scar-faced man yelled.

Gary struggled against the man restraining him.  This couldn’t be happening.  Not twice in one day!

"And I think I'll take that jacket, too."  The two men wrestled the jacket off a struggling Gary.  The scar-faced man pulled out a switchblade when Gary punched the shorter assailant and stabbed Gary in the abdomen.

"Search his pockets and get his wallet!" yelled the scar-faced man to the other, who had hesitated slightly, shocked at the sudden violence of his companion.

"Come on, man, before someone sees us!"  After grabbing Gary’s wallet and anything else of value in his pockets, the two muggers ran off.

Gary fell to his knees, staring before him in shock, while clutching his wound.  Everything moved in slow motion and seemed unreal.  He reached down and picked up the paper, which had fallen to the ground.  In a moment of clarity, Gary realized that HE was the man in the article who got mugged and left for dead.  He pressed the paper to his abdomen to try to stop the bleeding.

He was amazed that he was not in pain but only aware of a growing heaviness. Cold crept up his body.  Staring at the snow-covered ground, Gary became entranced by his shadow.  He watched, as it seemed to darken and grow larger.  Time seemed to have become suspended.

Gary was not aware of anything other than his shadow on the snow.  Funny, he had never really noticed his shadow before.  As he stared, it started to move away, and he slumped to the ground unconscious.  Within minutes snow started to fall and quickly became quite heavy.  The icy, blowing wind spread a blanket of snow upon him.
 

End of Installment One
 

Continue to Installment 2
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Email the author:  ktlombardo@hotmail.com
 

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