Will managed to get home using the stealth mirror mode and simple flight application that propelled him like Superman. He put down on his balcony that was camouflaged by trees and plants. Slim’s nanobots opened the lock on the sliding doors, and Will slipped inside.

After reviewing the monitors that Slim set up it was clear that a team of four people were watching him. There was no end to this pursuit.

The weight of Slim, all of Dr. Alvin Grace’s work, and keeping it out of the wrong hands was on Will’s shoulders. He needed time to ward off his pursuers. Should he lay low for a while, take care of his business and satisfy his watchers that he was a boring accountant?

Suddenly, his phone rang. It was the front desk.

“Mr. Parnell, I’m sorry to disturb you but there is a gentleman and a lady who would like to see you.”

Will saw them on his computer screen from one of the nano-cameras that Slim had set up.

“I only accept scheduled appointments, and only at my office. If they have some sales materials, they can leave it with you.

“Very well, sir.”

Will watched as the doorman and security saw them out.

Who are these people? How many are there? The questions were crawling through his mind as he tried to rest in his living room.

Maybe it’s time that Slim and I looked at these people and learned a little bit about them. I guess if they can come into my house then I can go into theirs–General Larkin and whoever else is after Slim.

Will left his apartment in full knowledge that a fresh team of four was watching him. He ignored them as he walked to his office. Once inside he gathered some papers and announced to his assistant that he’d be heading out to run a few errands and meet some potential clients. After that, he said that he was planning a much-needed getaway to someplace off the beaten path. He wanted a trail that would lead his pursuers nowhere.

He caught the subway at Fifth Street and took it to City Hall. Once in the crowd he followed the main corridors and then branched off to some less traveled corridors and entered stealth mirror mode when he was certain that he was alone.

He elevated himself several feet above the tallest of humans and waited. Sure enough, two of the watchers were coming from behind him. He followed at a safe distance and overheard one of them speaking into her communication device.

“We’ve lost the target.”

The target, he thought to himself. It’s time to learn who you are.

Carefully he floated out of the subway system and headed to the RV storage lot in Chester County. It was time to take action.

Once he maneuvered the RV with the Jeep trailered behind it out of the lot, he followed Slim’s directions to a remote location where it was safe to enter stealth-mirror mode. He elevated to three hundred feet and began the pursuit of information about the pursuers.

“Slim, find out information about General Benjamin Larkin. He is hunting for Slim, and Will Parnell needs to know who is helping him.”

Slim went to work invading everything to do with Larkin.

Meanwhile, Will guided the RV into the airspace near the Pentagon, near Larkin’s place of business.

After a short while, Slim was ready with some information. “General Larkin has a relationship with a contractor named Reed Logan. Logan’s company has been hired to track Will Parnell, and the objective is for Will Parnell to lead them to Slim. General Larkin has thirty-eight people being followed. They are frustrated that they can’t find Dr. Grace, and they can’t find Slim. General Larkin is worried because the president is pushing to understand that the country is safe and the General is unable to convey that Slim is not dangerous. He believes that he must control Slim.”

Will listened intently as Slim went on to detail information that was collected from phone records, emails and secret recording devices throughout the Pentagon, the White House and NSA. Slim found others, many were looking for Slim, but they weren’t connected to Larkin, at least directly. They were trying to stay off the grid. They all were searching in earnest, but they were spinning their wheels. They wouldn’t stop unless they had a reason to. Will decided that it was time to give them something to focus on that would get them out of Philadelphia at the very least.

“Slim, identify the people that are involved and develop a secure way for Will Parnell to contact them and eliminate any way for the communication to be tracked.”

Before long, Slim produced a report with names, phone numbers, background and a statement about the interrelationship among the people that were hunting Slim.

Will studied it.

Holy shit! he said to himself.

As White House Chief of Staff, Cal Dixon was always busy with never a free moment. Yet he managed to slip away to join Task Force X for a late-night meeting to follow up on their progress. The meetings were always scheduled quickly around Dixon’s availability.

He walked into the non-descript room in the bowels of the Washington Metro system. Marguerite Simpson, Megs, was already there with the assembled group.

He sat at the head of the table and looked at Megs. “What do you have?”

“Not much I’m afraid. We–”

Her phone buzzed loudly, which startled her because she was sure she had turned it off as she entered the room. She looked at the screen and saw the caller ID–Unknown.

Who the hell is this? she thought.

“Expecting someone?” Dixon snapped with an edge to his voice, clearly irritated. “I disassembled my phone, which is in my briefcase in the corner of the room.”

“Absolutely not,” she responded quickly. “I know I turned this off on the way in here.”

“I saw you do that,” said one of the people in the room.

“Are you going to answer it?” Dixon prodded.

Hesitantly, she spoke to her caller, “Yes.”

The voice was disguised with a mechanical robot-like sound. “Please put Chief of Staff Dixon on the phone.”

With her eyes wide, Megs looked at Dixon. “It’s for you.” She handed him the phone.

He looked around the room. Everyone was unnerved. “Cal Dixon. Who is this?” he demanded.

“I’m the one that you are looking for Mr. Dixon.”

Dixon’s jaw fell and his mouth hung open. Moments later he gathered himself and said, “How do I know that?”

“Put me on the speaker.”

“Turn on the speaker,” he said to Megs. She did and put it in front of Dixon.

”Go ahead,” Dixon said. Everyone leaned in towards the phone in front of Dixon on the conference room table.

“Dr. Alvin Grace created an artificial intelligence that he named Slim. The capabilities of this technology are almost beyond comprehension. General Benjamin Larkin demanded that Dr. Grace submit Slim to be weaponized. When he resisted, he was poisoned with neurotoxin XF–18, presumably at the direction of Larkin. For those of you who don’t know about the poison, it strikes precisely in ninety days after it is administered. Thus, Dr. Grace is no longer with us. However, I am here, and I am the caretaker of Slim.”

There were shocked looks on everyone’s face including Dixon’s.

Will broke the silence and continued. “From what I can tell, none of you have any knowledge of the facts I just recited. A decision was made to communicate with Task Force X instead of the Situation Room in the White House, because there are people who can’t be trusted in that room, like Larkin.”

“We have all of Dr. Grace’s work, so it’s only a matter of time until we reconstruct it.”

“You don’t. Dr. Grace planted the information, and it will never allow you to reconstruct Slim.”

Dixon felt a tightening in his gut. He had been afraid of that. He looked at Megs and passed her a note.

He knows about Task Force X?

She nodded and shrugged to convey her surprise and helpless feeling.

“The nation has nothing to fear from Slim. I couldn’t say that if it fell into someone else’s control.”

Dixon was extremely anxious. “What are you saying?”

“There are bad people trying to acquire Slim so they can turn it into a weapon.”

Dixon thought for a moment. “You’re talking about Larkin.”

“Certainly, he is a problem. But, there is an effort from the underworld that’s every bit … as enthusiastic as you are to acquire Slim, and their motivations are not in the best interest of the United States.”

Dixon looked around the table. “Do you know who is leading this?”

“Yes. A man they call Black Jack. He is connected to the underworld.”

Dixon cringed. Only very few people knew that name, a name that was often dismissed as a myth.

“Why are you contacting me?”

“That’s an excellent question Mr. Dixon. I want to build trust with you and be of help, if needed.”

Dixon was flabbergasted. “What should I call you?”

There was silence.

“Are you still there?” Dixon asked.

“Yes. You can call me Game Changer.”

“Game Changer, I need to speak to the president. How can I contact you?”

“You can’t”. If you need me, we’ll find a protocol that works. For now, I will contact you tomorrow at midnight.”

“But how will you know … never mind. Midnight it is.” Dixon couldn’t believe the interplay with Game Changer. He had to find the connection to this Black Jack. For some time he had felt something was very wrong. Now he knew his concerns were justified.

President Jarrett walked into the Situation Room with Cal Dixon and sat down. It was ten minutes before midnight.

“You’re telling me that this … Game Changer … can reach us, here. One of the most, if not the most, protected and secure communication hub on earth?”

Dixon stared at him and spoke not as the Chief of Staff but as an old friend. “Dan, I don’t know what to make of this. I’ve never experienced or heard of anything like this. But, I know that if Game Changer reaches us here, then we must listen. The capabilities that Grace created are beyond comprehension and this would help validate that. I pray that my gut is right and that this Game Changer is a good guy.”

“Well, we only have to wait a matter of minutes to find out just how powerful this Game Changer is,” President Jarrett said.

They sat across from each other, lost in their thoughts until precisely midnight when a voice announced that Game Changer was on the line.

President Jarrett nodded. “Put him through,” Dixon said.

“Hello, this is Cal Dixon, I’m here with President Jarrett.”

“Thank you Mr. Dixon. Mr. President, it is an honor to be speaking with you. I am called Game Changer, and I hear that you have been looking for me.”

“My Chief of Staff filled me in on his conversation with you. It sounds like you may be on our side.”

“I want to be on your side Mr. President, but the murder of Dr. Grace by the government or those paid by it is an issue that at the very least generates mistrust.” Will was exercising all the control that he could muster. “I wanted to speak with you directly, to assess this matter.”

“I actually appreciate that. How did you penetrate our security?”

“The technology that I have is quantum leaps and bounds above anything known to man.”

Jarrett looked around the room before he continued. “Cal said that you told him that Dr. Grace was murdered by Ben Larkin. Do you have proof?”

One of the computer screens on the wall lit up and the text that was sent to Dr. Grace was displayed.

I’m on the run. Two SUVs showed up at my house, but I managed to get away. They overheard me talk about Slim. I’m so sorry. Look up what happened to Bo Ridley. Be careful. I’ll contact you when I can.

“Dr. Grace’s assistant was murdered, too. He received this text the day he was poisoned. That’s why he ran.”

“Is there more?”

“Yes.”

Will displayed emails between Logan and Larkin that suggested a cover up of the murders. President Jarrett twisted in his chair and grimaced. He looked at Dixon who could practically read his mind. There was a rogue operator in their camp that would need to be dealt with.

“Game Changer, I need to do some house cleaning. To do the job right, I need to understand who this Black Jack is dealing with.”

“Mr. President, I’ll contact you in forty-eight hours to let you know what light I can shed on the situation.”

“I need to look at my schedule so I can let you know–”

“Mr. President.” Will interrupted. “I’ll find you. It won’t be a problem.”

Jarrett and Dixon looked at each other.

“Is President Jarrett safe?” Dixon asked with concern.

“If you are asking if President Jarrett is safe from any actions that I may take, the answer is yes. If you are asking about others, I don’t know.”

The president stared at Dixon. “Game Changer, I have no choice but to trust you. I can assure you that you can trust me. Get me the information on Black Jack, and I’ll fix the mess.”

“Very good Mr. President.” Will terminated the call.

“My god.” The president rested his head in his hands with his elbows on the table.

“It’s fragile, but I think he’s on our side,” Dixon said, trying to reassure his boss and dear friend.

“I think so, too. And, we damn well better keep him there.” Jarrett paused then added, “I want the cancer cut out of this administration, Cal.”

“I’ll make it happen.”

It was after ten o’clock in the evening when Reed Logan pulled into the parking lot behind the small restaurant that fronted on US Route 1 in Hyattsville, Maryland. It was closed for business on Mondays, which made it a safe place to meet in the mind of the man that called the meeting.

Logan left his car and slid into the driver’s side of a nondescript sedan.

“Well this is a change,” Logan said to lighten the moment, which he felt was going to become quite stressful.

The driver turned in his seat to look at him. “We have problems,” General Larkin said.

“What happened?”

“I got a call from that little shit, Dixon, this afternoon. He wants a full report on Grace and details about his death and his assistant’s death.”

Logan didn’t see the problem. “Well, we can give them plenty of information.”

“He knows about the poisoning, and he wants to put me under oath!” Larkin slammed the palm of his hand down on the dashboard.

Logan was stunned. “Can he do that?”

“When all is said and done, yes. He also said that they are going to do an audit of my budget and everything that I have input into. They want it all.”

“Jesus!”

“He also asked me if I or anyone associated with me has dealt with anyone outside the safety belt.”

“I don’t understand. What’s the safety belt?” Logan was confused and very worried.

“The safety belt encircles everyone that is legitimate. Outside the belt are questionable organizations–criminals.”

Logan felt the blood drain from his face. Larkin could see it even in the dim light of the restaurant signage.

“You’d better tell me if we have anything to be worried about,” Larkin said in an ominous tone.

Logan squirmed in his seat. “I talk with the underworld. You know that,” he said. He felt a tightening in his chest.

“I do, and you know I’m not talking about that.” Larkin was watching him with probing eyes.

“I … ran into a group that was also looking for Grace.”

“What group?” Larkin’s tone dripped with a controlled anger.

“They said that they were government sanctioned, and they were willing … to share what they had with me.”

“And?”

“They had access that only the government, our government, could give them. But, eventually I identified their employer. He’s an underworld figure that goes by the name Black Jack. I don’t know who he is, but up to now he was just a myth as far as I was concerned.”

“Did you share information with these people?

“Yes, but only basic stuff to find out––”

“Did you pay them money?” Larkin interrupted. He was a man possessed, and this was a problem.

“No, not directly.”

“What the hell does that mean!” Larkin erupted.

Logan took a breath. “I paid a contractor that they recommended to research the people that we identified in the Delaware Valley as a possible connection to Dr. Grace.” Logan was contrite.

“Is there any connection back to this Jack piece of shit?” Larkin could feel his blood pressure rising. His face was growing redder by the second.

“We have to assume there is. I can insulate you.”

“They won’t differentiate you from me. Get the tracks buried and cut off any communication. Am I clear?”

“Yes.” Logan truly respected Larkin and deeply regretted his unavoidable decision as the silenced weapon discharged a twenty-two-caliber bullet that penetrated the general’s brain.

With his latex-gloved hands, Logan planted damning evidence on Larkin’s cell phone that implicated him in the commission of murder and treason.

He left the vehicle as a cold rain began to fall and pressed a speed dial on his phone. “It’s done,” he said.

“Good. Get under the radar and stay there,” the man said.

“Will do.”

Will had just finished listening to the phone call that Reed Logan had on a line that was scrambled by NSA technology. In seconds, Slim had identified the man on the other end of the call. Will wanted to be shocked, but, since he was introduced to Slim, less and less fell into that category.

Slim carefully monitored all of Logan’s digital records and those of the man he had called. It wasn’t long before a clear picture developed and the identity of Jacques Beaumont, a.k.a. Black Jack, was revealed.

Will decided that it was time to pay a brief visit to Black Jack to establish some ground rules. He put the RV in stealth mirror mode and engaged the super flight application. In a very short time the RV was hovering outside of a luxurious penthouse in Monaco, one of many residences that Black Jack maintained. His silver Rolls Royce was parked at the valet stand below, which could be seen from his balcony.

Black Jack was entertaining a young woman. He was seducing her with wine and cocaine. He’d bed her when he was ready. Whatever he desired was always at his beck and call. Black Jack was a man that was always in control.

His landline rang, but he ignored it. He was too busy. Then, his special cell phone rang that was only accessed by his chief of operations.

“Excuse me my darling, I’ll dispatch this intrusion.”

He picked it up and answered it. “Yes. This better be good.”

“I’ve heard that you are looking for me,” the mechanical sounding voice said.

Jack was caught off guard. “And who may I ask is calling?”

“A man with a message for you.”

“What shall I call you?” Jack asked.

“You can call me Game Changer.”

“Cute. I don’t play games,” Jack said through gritted teeth.

“Neither do I. Go to your balcony and look down at your message.”

Jack walked to edge of the balcony and looked down. He could see his elegant car safely parked and waiting for him. “Do you plan to damage my car,” Jack said with disgust.

“Yes.”

Just then, the Rolls Royce turned into a pile of dust. Jack felt tightness in his chest. “What do you want?” he asked a little too fast.

“If you continue to irritate me, or if I find that you were responsible for the death of Dr. Grace, I will make sure that you are in the car the next time. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

“Extremely,” Jack said as the call terminated. His hands were shaking.

 

Cal Dixon was wrapping things up at his desk when his cell chirped. He looked down at a text.

 

Good Evening,

I have news. Get the president and take him to his private office. Please wait a few minutes until he finishes the baked Alaska. I know it’s his favorite.

Regards,

Game Changer

 

Dixon had the president notified that a matter of great importance required his attention.

President Jarrett turned the corner and saw Dixon standing at the door to the oval office. They walked through it to his small personal office.

“Game Changer has news,” Dixon said before the president asked him what this was about. “He also wanted to wait until you finished your baked Alaska.”

“Sweet Jesus!” the president responded.

 

Dixon’s phone rang and he put it on speaker. “Mr. President and Mr. Dixon, thank you for taking the time.”

“What do you have?” President Jarrett asked.

“It appears that Reed Logan, a contractor, is operating under the direction of the Secretary of Homeland Security, Kelsey Osgood. Logan just murdered General Larkin at his direction.”

Jarrett jumped up. “Kelsey Osgood? Good god!”

Dixon didn’t miss a beat. “Why would he do that?”

“That’s a good question, Mr. Dixon. The answer is that Osgood is on the payroll of Jacques Beaumont, who you know as Black Jack.”

The room went silent as Jarrett and Dixon adjusted to the news. Finally, the president spoke. “This is just horrible.”

“You have proof of this?” Dixon asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Will answered. “I’ve sent a file to each of your encrypted accounts that is loaded with irrefutable proof. Also, Black Jack’s financial information is there for you to use as well.”

“Do you know how to find this Black Jack?” the president asked.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I gave him a personal message.”

Dixon smiled, which was a rarity. “Did he embrace your message?”

“Yes … with alacrity.”

Both the president and Dixon enjoyed a short laugh.

The president set his jaw. “Game Changer, we owe you a debt of gratitude, and so does this country, but I can’t tell the world about you, not yet anyway.”

“That’s fine with me Mr. President.”

“And if we need you again?” the president asked.

“Simply put a piece of paper with the letters GC on it in a window pane in the oval office. I’ll see it and contact you.”

“That’s very Batmanesque,” Dixon chuckled.

“Batman is so twentieth century,” Will said.

They all laughed.

“You’ll monitor the window?” Dixon asked.

“Yes.”

“That actually gives me comfort. Now, I need to go and clean house,” the president said.

“I’m at your service, sir. Just reach out, if you need me.”

“Thank you,” the president said, and then he terminated the call.

President Jarrett leaned back in his chair. “Cal, let’s get the file over to Justice. I want Logan and Osgood wrapped up tight before they know what hits them. Also, better get the AG on the phone.”

“Do you want to go after Black Jack?” Dixon asked.

“Let’s get our house in order first. Something tells me … that Game Changer has Black Jack’s full attention, so we can take our time.”

Dixon laughed. “I agree, Mr. President.”

Will agreed to attend his high school reunion, at the insistence of two of his old buddies. He didn’t want to go, but he hadn’t seen them in years, and they’d kept in touch and lobbied hard to have him attend. There was a general assumption that Claire was going to attend, since she had always been very involved in school activities and had been quite popular.  Also, she had a lot of friends that she managed to keep in touch with. At this point, Will figured that he could handle it, so he decided to go.

Will checked into his hotel and showered. Dressed in a dark grey cashmere blazer, crisp white shirt and black slacks, he put on some cologne and was ready to go, feeling generally positive. Slim was secure on his person, but he checked it one more time. Slim’s development allowed them to communicate telepathically.

Ready, Slim?

Let’s go, Will Parnell.

He drove to the old high school where the reunion was being held.

Walking in the front door, he saw a long table with nametags and a check-in list. After he got his nametag, he walked into the crowded gym. His buddies materialized out of nowhere. They each had dates and were smiling.

“Will. Jesus, it’s good to see you.” Scott Hays gave him a huge hug, only to be followed by Jerry Marcus.

Will was introduced to their dates, and they all headed to the bar for a drink before finding their seats at a large round table for the sit-down dinner.

From across several tables their eyes met. There was Claire standing and holding on to another man’s arm. She looked different.

My god. She’s pregnant. No wonder she needed a fast divorce. She didn’t want to start a family … with me, anyway. Will tried not to laugh at himself. He had been such a fool. Wow! he thought.

Ever the confident one, Claire boldly walked over to Will, guiding the man whose arm she held. He was taller than Will and considerably older, mid-forties. He was trim with short, thinning blond hair.

A little too blond, Will thought.

“Will, I’d like to introduce you to Rodger Wells … my husband.”

Rodger confidently put out his hand. “Will.”

Will grasped it firmly. “Rodger.”

“Claire, congratulations on your marriage, and may you and your family have a lifetime of happiness.” Will forced a smile and tried to sound as sincere as possible.

Claire seemed relieved. “Thank you, Will. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good.”

“He has his own firm now,” Scott blurted out.

Will rolled his eyes.

“You do?” Claire asked, totally amazed, as if she had just heard that he had joined the French Foreign Legion or done something outrageous.

“I do,” he said.

“And?” she asked.

“Business is good,” Will answered, smiling and wishing he could change the subject.

“Hey, Parnell!” A large hand slapped him on his shoulder.

Will turned to see Herbert Carney, known as Bum. Bum was a large man. In high school, he had played center on the football team. He’d stayed in the area and was part owner of several automobile dealerships. Some of his high school friends worked for him and hung around him like groupies. Will remembered him as the school bully, whenever he could get away with it.

“Congrats old man I didn’t think you had it in you. Poppin’ a bun in the oven of the homecoming queen. You dog.” He was laughing and drunk.

Everyone cringed, and it was clear that Claire and Rodger were embarrassed.

“Herbie, Claire and I are divorced. Roger is her husband, and they are starting a family. Why don’t you let me get caught up with them, and then we can chat?” Will remembered that Bum hated to be called Herbie.

The steely look in Will’s eyes and being called Herbie brought out the aggressor in Bum. “Yeah … let’s chat later.” He sneered and walked off with his groupies in tow.

“Don’t mind him,” Will said to the group, but the message was for Rodger. “Herbie has always struggled to properly express himself.”

As everyone laughed, Will noticed Bum glaring at him from the other side of the gym.

They went to their seats as dinner arrived. It was a festive occasion as everyone at the table enjoyed a lively discussion about past high school exploits.

As the dinner plates were being cleared away, Will decided to have some coffee, skip the dance and head back to his hotel. But first, he needed to use the men’s room.

Bum Carney watched as Will walked towards the men’s room, which was inside the team room at the far side of the gym. He looked at two of his groupies. “I’m gonna’ have a little chat with Parnell. Remind him who’s boss.” His followers laughed. They trailed behind him into the team room. “Don’t let anyone in,” he glowered.

“No problem,” they said together.

Bum entered the bathroom. Will was using the urinal and someone had just left as Bum held the door and nodded to his groupies. He closed it and turned around and looked at Will who had just finished at the sink and was drying his hands.

“Looks like it’s just you and me Parnell,” he said with a smirk on his face.

“Looks like it is,” Will said.

“I think we need that chat. You need a little lesson in respect, and I’ve decided to give it to you right now. What do you think of that?” An evil expression crossed Bum’s face.

Slim, one–invade his pores and strangle his larynx enough to get his attention and immobilize him, and two–seal the door.

The nanoparticle army went to work. The door was secured, and Bum’s face began to turn red. He didn’t know what was happening. He grabbed at his throat.

Will walked closer to him and spoke in a calm but chilling tone. “Herbie, I don’t like you …  I never did. I’ve had enough of your shit. If you anger me again, I will tear out your throat, and paint the walls with your blood.”

Slim, tighter on his throat.

Bum’s eyes were bugging out. He was terrified.

Will leaned so close to his face that Bum could feel his breath. “Do you understand me, Herbie?”

Bum was trying to say yes but all he could do was grunt. His head felt like it was in a vice, and he couldn’t nod. He panicked and his bowels let go.

Slim, release him.

Bum fell, barely catching himself by grabbing a nearby sink. He was gulping air as fast as he could.

“Herbie, go into one of the stalls. I’ll tell your groupies out there that you don’t feel good and want to go home. They will bring you your coat, so you can cover up and leave after you collect yourself. You can go out the back, if you like. Do you understand?”

Bum was breathing heavily and sweating, but he managed to utter, “yes”.

Will had been in a strange zone and had not realized that someone had been knocking on the door and now was pounding.

“Open up!”

“Hold on,” Will said loudly. “It’s just stuck. I’ve got it.”

Slim, release the door.

Will opened the door and walked out. There was a crowd of people including his buddies and Claire’s husband.

Will looked at Bum’s groupies. “I don’t think he’s feeling well. He wants you to get his coat, so he can leave. It might have been something he ate.” He struggled to appear concerned.

One of the groupies stuck his head in, “Bum.” He called out.

“Get my damn coat … please!” Bum said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Will noticed a relieved look but one mixed with confusion on everyone’s face.

Scott leaned in to him as they walked back to the gym. “What happened?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Herbie is not well. I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with him.” Will smiled.

“Hey, I thought we were back in high school for a second, and Bum was lookin’ for a fight. Obviously, we’ve grown up,” Scott laughed as he shook his head, walking straight ahead and not looking at Will.

Most of us changed, Will thought to himself.

Will had just said goodbye to his old friends when Claire and Roger walked up to him. “Will, I thought Bum was going to pick a fight with you. That’s why I asked Roger to check on you. Apparently, our old friends thought so, too … I’m glad you’re okay.”

Our old friends, he thought. This is so awkward.

“Well, I appreciate the concern. Fortunately, everything turned out just dandy.” Will smiled. “Take care.” He turned and left.

Claire intently watched him as he walked out. He’d changed somehow––his clothes, his attitude, his life. She barely recognized him.