Issue 24: "Ride the Lightning, Part Two"

[Romans Empire]

[Romans Empire]

The Suicide Squad
Issue 24: "Ride the Lightning" Part Two
Written by Jay McIntyre
Cover by Roy Flinchum
Edited by John Elbe

[Romans Empire]

“Obviously, (law enforcement agencies) don’t want to use a Taser [sic] on young children, pregnant woman or elderly people… . But if in your policy you deliberately exclude a segment of the population, then you have potentially closed off a tool that could have ended a confrontation.”
- Sgt. Donald Davis

Homicidal electrocution is a very uncommon (or perhaps under reported) phenomenon - more so in India where reporting of any manner of death is anyway scarce. This type of murder envisages a picture of a very ruthless offender, the crime itself being premeditated and planned. Passage of electric current through the human body is an aberration, and commission of such an act purposefully is diabolical.
-Dr. Luv Sharma

[Romans Empire]

Chicago, Eleven months ago…

The thug was slammed backwards, then writhed and cringed.
No doubt about it, the Electrocutioner was enjoying himself.
Paul was having the time of his life. Killing people, who deserved it, and making the world a better place!

It was just too bad—and so utterly frustrating!—that the vast majority of the hero community didn’t see it the same way. He knew why; almost all of them disapproved of killing. They were wrong; Paul knew they were wrong. How else do you stop crime? Prison was never anything more than a revolving door.

But what separated him from his late brother was that he cared. He wanted the heroes to see that he was right, that he was helping them! Lightening their caseload, easing prison overcrowding. He even hoped to have the opportunity to kill some major “rogue” enemy of a hero. Maybe they would get it then.

Of course, intellectually, he knew they would do no such thing. Their “code of ethics”, if you could call such laughable hypocrisy that, would prevent them from even considering his view as viable. But it burned him inside. He wanted them to understand his contribution to their cause; greater, in some ways, than their own acts. Oh, he valued them well enough; saving the world from the Apokolips invasion, for example. But he did good every day that their “morals” wouldn’t even let them conceive.

Joshua had never cared about such things. He did what he thought was right, and damn the world if it didn’t agree. Paul couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of what had lead to his death.

He shook off such thoughts. The now-fried scum at his feet had had buddies; it was mildly surprising they had not come after him. Of course, they might be such cowards that they simply ran and left their friend to die.

Electrocutioner grinned; he didn’t mind that at all. He enjoyed hunting the guilty down. Enjoyed it very much. That was an area where he and his predecessor had been in complete agreement. He stalked off in search of the poor sap’s “friends”.

*****************

Belle Reve, three weeks ago…

It wasn’t easy cradling Killer Frost in your arms, but Paul managed it.
Crystal, he corrected himself. Her name is Crystal.

There were times that he wondered at himself. He was sleeping with a woman who was not just a criminal, but a hard-core stone-cold killer. Oh, granted, she was in custody and doing a sort of work release program. But if she ever escaped or walked away…

He held her close. He didn’t like to think of such things.

It couldn’t last; they both knew it. But they did not talk of it. He was not sure if Crystal thought about it, but he did.

It wasn’t love; he would pretend no such thing, and he doubted she would even consider the concept. There had been something in her past with the hero known as Firestorm, who she often crossed paths with; this he knew. But love? She would probably laugh at the idea.

Yet it was not purely carnal lust, either. There was tenderness, and kindness, and the sort of domestic conversation most would have considered impossible for either of them, let alone the two of them together.

Perhaps it was a way to feel less alone.

And what if the day comes when she crossed the line—or the team, or both—in front of him? He knew she lived her life without regret, and for all her affection, if it came down to a fight, she would do battle.

He was pretty sure she knew the same of him.

So they would enjoy it….while it lasted.

*****************

Baja California Sur, now…


“Do you know what we’re looking for?” Manhunter asked Electrocutioner, with gradually lessening patience.

Electrocutioner looked back at his ‘leader’. The two of them were more alike than either would care to admit, but now was not the time for such reflections.

“I know generally where he got his training, yes. That’s where we’ll be looking first.”

Their plane had landed at the regional capital of La Paz. According to Electrocutioner’s best remembrance, the town they were looking for was called El Salto. A little nothing blip on the map to the southeast. The last place in the world someone would look for a killer vigilante’s training camp.

“I find it statistically unlikely that they were specifically training vigilantes here,” Malthus put in.

Electrocutioner nodded. “Technically you’re right. They trained terrorists, villains, a few minor ‘specialists’. It was a mercenary camp. The Mexican cops left it alone because they were bribed, and also because some of their own got ‘specialized training’ here. It was also neutral ground where they could talk to organized crime in Mexico if they needed to.” He shrugged. “At least, that was the situation as Josh told it to me. And that was several years ago now. For all I know the place might have been shut down or moved away. But it’s the only lead we have.”

No words were exchanged as they headed for the small town, though uneasy glances were certainly passed around in plenty.

At first, it seemed that the place might have been deserted. The camp was still there as Joshua had described it, but there was no real activity to be seen. A child played absently by himself on the back of a rusting truck; a cat trotted by.

But the child’s eyes were glassy and blank, and in his hand he held a grenade.

Thankfully, the pin was still in.

Killer Frost raised a hand to freeze him, but Electrocutioner stepped between and waved her off. “<Where’d you get the pineapple, huh kid?>” he asked in somewhat stilted Spanish.

“Didn’t know you were bilingual,” Frost said.

“You’d be surprised,” Electrocutioner answered.

Manhunter and Vixen looked at eachother. Malthus raised an eyebrow.

“<Lots of boom here,>” the boy answered in an accent so thick that Electrocutioner almost lost the sense of the words. “<Some teachers down here. Especially down below.>”

“<Below, huh? Would you show us?>”

*****************

The boy led them to an unobtrusive door and then ran off.

“Is it just me,” said Resurrection Man, “Or is it slightly odd that Electrocutioner was able to just sweet-talk the boy out of his pet grenade and convince him to lead us down here?”

“Pet grenade?” Enchantress echoed in amusement.

“Yes, it’s just you,” Malthus said sourly.

“Nothing odd about it,” Electrocutioner put in before things turned hostile. “He’ll find another toy to play with soon enough. And our money is good here, very very good. Even these days."

“They’re still here, aren’t they?” Knockout said musingly. “I know not the particular human dialect that he spoke, but he told you the war profiteers were still here.”

“That is indeed what he said,” Vixen agreed; she knew Spanish well enough to have understood.

“Some of them are,” Electrocutioner nodded. “They’ve gone sub rosa[/], as they’re unpopular with the current administration. Which means, in practice, that there’s fewer of them here than in Joshua’s day, and those that are here keep their heads down and pay bigger bribes.”

“So they are down here,” Manhunter mused.

“However many of them are left, yes. Though if they’ll be the ones we need to talk to is another question.”

The door was locked. He gave the locking mechanism itself a gentle pulse of electricity, and opened the door.

*****************

Westwoods Delaware, thirteen years ago…


Josh and Paul sat in front of the TV, vegging out, watching Return of the Jedi.

“You know,” Josh said musingly, “Those lightning powers the Emperor has are pretty cool. Too bad a good guy doesn’t have em.”

“Not in this movie,” Paul said around a mouthful of popcorn.

“I don’t mean in the movie. I mean in real life. You know, some hero to fry the scum.”

“I’m sure that at least one of em does,” Paul shrugged.

“Not really. Not the way it needs to be done. You know what I’m talking about.”

The much younger Paul nodded, eyes glazing over. He and Josh had been over this conversation, seemingly hundreds of time. “I know, I know. But what are you gonna do about it?”

“Yeah, what am I gonna do about it,” Josh repeated, but his eyes were thoughtful, reflecting lightning from the tv screen.

*****************

A short series of steps led down to a dirty, smelly, poorly lit room.
There were half a dozen men in the room, and one woman. It wasn’t a bar….exactly. There was an old but serviceable jukebox in one corner, and it was playing something old and melodramatic.

The men were hard, touch mercenaries mostly, one or two kept to the corners and didn’t move much. The woman was clearly in the mercenary business, and not ‘entertainment’, as she was more heavily armed than some of the men. Curiously, she was also the only non-Hispanic aside from the Squad itself.

At the sight of the Squad, everyone in the room tensed.

Manhunter spread his hands. “Tell them we’re not here for them.”

Vixen and Electrocutioner each opened their mouth, but one of the mercenaries spoke first.

“<Electrocutioner?>” one of them said uncertainly.

“Si. <I am not the first to go by that name, but I am the Electrocutioner now. And the old one was known to me.>”

The man nodded. <”Stuff has been going on here, in the back rooms. Stuff concerning…..men like you.>?

“<Really? How so?>”

The woman spoke. Her accent was British; sounding vaguely Cockney. And she spoke English. “He means they’ve been trying to make another like you, back there.” She jerked her head towards the far side of the room they had entered. “Though I think they cleared out in the last day or so. Maybe they knew you were coming, eh?”

“Maybe,” Electrocutioner agreed. Switching back to Spanish, he said, “<Let us pass. We want no trouble with you. We only want to find information on what happened here.>”

There were a couple of sour grins and mean glares, but the crowd moved apart and let them through. The British woman merely raised an eyebrow as they passed.

“Do I know you?” Malthus asked her in passing.

“Don’t try it on,” she warned.

“No, seriously. I think I met a girl like you in Britain once. Back in the late 80s.”

Her hard eyes dropped. “Perhaps you did. I was much younger then.”

“Now is not the time for nostalgia,” Manhunter snapped. “Not yours, at least.”

Malthus raised his hands in a placatory gesture and they moved on.

*****************

The room was almost empty. Almost….not quite.

There was a table with three chairs, a half empty fridge, documents shredded into wastepaper baskets.

There was a set of chains against one rocky wall, dangling, but it was clear from the smell and the stench that they had been host to a prisoner very recently.

And…there was a hospital bed, almost a gurney.

With someone still in it.

“JOSH!!” Electrocutioner screamed, running to his side.

The previous Electrocutioner did not respond. He lay limp, flesh withered against his skin, eyes closed.

Paul frantically felt for a pulse. It was there, but slow. “Come on Josh, wake up, please!!”

“He must be in a coma,” Malthus murmured.

“They got word of us coming,” Manhunter said. “Not much warning, obviously, or they wouldn’t have left him behind….who told them?”

“They probably had a lookout,” Vixen said. “This is a mercenary camp, remember.”

“Not those back there,” Frost said. “They’d have been more tense than they were, would’ve fought.”

It was no mystery where they had gone; there was only one other exit from the room, a short passage. Looking at the narrowness of the passage, Manhunter speculated that perhaps they couldn’t have gotten Joshua through such a narrow way in his bed in the time they had. But if that was the case, why hadn’t they just killed him?

Such concerns were far from the current Electrocutioner’s mind, of course. He whirled frantically to Enchantress. “Can you….heal him!?”

The spellweaver frowned, thoughtfully. “I can try.” She moved forward and put her hands to either side of Joshua’s head. Her face was shadowed by her hat.

There was a long, tension filled pause; even the most psychically deaf amongst them could feel the strain and tension in the air.

At length, the sorceress raised her head. “He will live….but I am uncertain if he will ever wake. His spirit has to find it’s own way back. I cannot force it, or call it back, if it does not want to come. Not without resorting to the sort of Necromantic soul-binding that would make you cringe. And even if you were willing to let me try such, it would take time. Time I’d wager we currently do not have.”

Electrocutioner sank to his knees, then slumped into a sitting position. “Thank you,” he sighed. “I can’t ask for more, I guess.”

“Not for yourself,” Enchantress agreed. “But I might be able to read
his memories and find out something of our enemies plan.”

“And where they went!” Resurrection Man exclaimed.

“Just so. Hush now…..” She put her hands to Joshua’s head again, and this time bent over him more deeply. The pause was longer, but with less tension in the air.

Finally, she lifted her head again. “They helped train your brother, in the old days. But they wanted him under their control, which he never was. They didn’t want a killer vigilante, they wanted an enforcer for their own twisted notions of ethnic cleansing. So they arranged for your brother’s supposed death. It was meant to be a capture, and it worked….save that your brother was rendered comatose. They’ve been trying to access his mind ever since, with limited success. Their neuroprobes aren’t as effective as my spells.” She gave a little smirk, then continued, “What they didn’t know is that while your brother’s consciousness is distant and remote, his senses still work. He could see and hear just fine, even if he had no way to react to the information. So I saw what they were trying to do. They were trying to transfer your brother’s raw physical experiences as Electrocutioner to their new test subject, without the memories or personal biases.”

“Is that possible?” Vixen frowned.

Enchantress shrugged. “They thought so. And they had time and patience and money to sink into the attempt.”

“What new test subject?” Electrocutioner broke in.

“They hoped to create a true metahuman lightning-wielder. That was the other half of their experiments.” She gestured to where the chains hung empty. “They didn’t want someone who just wielded the lightning through gadgetry like you and your brother. That’s also part of why they didn’t come after you; that and the fact that they already had your brother.

“You mentioned ethnic cleansing,” Vixen prompted.

“White supremacists. Old order South African and Dutch, mostly.”

“Dutch as in the Netherlands?” asked a bewildered Resurrection Man.

“Why would they come here, then?” Manhunter frowned.

“Last place anyone would look,” Electrocutioner muttered.

“Oh God, the British woman!” Malthus ran back out, his normal scientific demeanor faded.

“No, wait!” Enchantress called after him, then shook her head. “Fool.”

“You’re not going to go after him?” Vixen asked Manhunter.

He shook his head. “There’s no reason to start a fight with them.”

“And if the fool gets himself killed, it’s no loss?” Frost asked with a grin.

Manhunter shrugged.

“Well perhaps I should go bring him back,” Cavalier offered, breaking a long silence. “I would love to do battle, but as you say, these are not the foes we are looking for.”

The group gave a general chuckle, Electrocutioner excluded. “You sure you shouldn’t be playing for the Good Guys team?” Frost asked teasingly.

Cavalier drew himself up and looked haughty. “The good guys are no fun, and there’s no profit in it, either.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it worked for the earth-shifter,” Vixen said thoughtfully.

“Dear, please stop trying to shoo the new recruits away,” Manhunter said plantatively. Even Electrocutioner laughed at that one. Then he turned and looked at his brother, lying there comatose, and his good humor dropped like a stone.

Malthus came in with one eye swollen shut; it would surely become a black eye. The British woman was just behind him, scowling. “No, I did not have anything to do with it!” she snapped, before storming off.

There was another ripple of laughter, and Malthus shrugged unhappily.

“If you’re done wasting time,” Enchantress said drily, “I would’ve already told you where they have gone.”

“And that is?” Electrocutioner asked.

“Curacao.”

*****************

Indeed, the enemy and their subject were en route.

“We should never have left the original host behind!” one of them said in the cramped quarters of their own plane.

“There was no time,” answered the second.

“Then we should have killed him!” the first expostulated.

“Oh yes, and give them even more motive to come after us? No.” the third said decisively.

“Will we be ready if they find us?” the second asked.

The third was grim. “We will be. We must be.”

[Romans Empire]

TO BE CONCLUDED....

[Romans Empire]

[Romans Empire]

Tales of Belle Reve
Part 2(of 3) "Crowded Head"
Written by John Elbe

[Romans Empire]

Simon Lagrieve stood with his arms crossed and watched as Amanda Waller waited for the steel doors of Cellblock 10 to open. Once it closed shut behind her, she continued walking, moving right past him without looking up.

“Mrs. Waller?” he said walking a step behind her, “Can I speak with you?”

“Not now. Very busy.”

He had to pick up the pace to keep up with her, “I just need a moment of your time. I've been here nearly a week and I get the impression that you are avoiding me.”

“You got that impression huh? Obviously didn’t stop you,” she stood and waited for another security door to open.

He stood just slightly behind her, “I don't understand why you feel the need to avoid me. I was hired to…”

“I didn't hire you,” she said before moving through the open doorway.

“Excuse me?” he replied, as he continued his pursuit.

“I didn't hire you.”

“I heard you, but I was hired to provide mental and psychological analysis for members of the missions team and I have not been able to reach a single one of them.”

“That's the funny thing about the missions team Doc…They are always on a mission.”

He continued to follow her as she headed down another hallway toward her office. “How am I expected to do my job if you won't allow me access to the missions team?”

He took a step back as she suddenly stopped and turned toward him, “Your 'job' is not my concern. I know that Sarge Steel brought you in here probably due to your previous relationship with June Moone.”

{*Editors Note*: As seen in Suicide Squad #8.}

A smile began to form on her face as a look of surprise formed on his, “ I make it a point to know everything about everyone here. And, oh yes Doc, I know everything about your total disregard for doctor patient confidentially when you spilled your guts to Steel on every visit you had with Miss Moone.”

“But I…”

She looked up at the balding man in glasses who stood nearly a foot taller then her. With her index finger mere inches from his face she continued, “I don't care. I truly don't. I can't stop you from being here but I don't trust you, and I certainly will not make things easy for you. Psychoanalyze anyone you want. Just stay the hell away from me.”

He stood there, speechless as she entered her office and slammed the door behind her.

Doctor Lagrieve stood in front of the closed door and let out a long sigh. He adjusted his glasses and slowly turned and walked down the long hallway mumbling to himself. They call her the Wall…Can't imagine where they got that one…

*****************

A short time later, Simon Lagrieve sat in his office staring at the stack of folders in front him. Despite Waller's obvious attempt to unnerve him with the knowledge that he had treated June Moone for over a year after the Apokolips invasion, he had indeed felt a great deal of guilt for how he so easily rolled over for Sarge Steel. At the time, he thought he was acting in the best interest of the American people considering June's dark half, but he later realized he was only acting in the better interest of Sarge Steel. Simon felt ashamed for allowing himself to be bullied in such a way. It was something he wouldn't allow to happen again.

As time passed he had often wondered what had happened with June and the progress she had made since their last visit. That wonder turned to disappointment when he received a telephone call from Steel who filled him in on the current situation with June and the Enchantress.

He had no intention of leaving Georgetown and moving to Colorado, especially in the twilight of his career, but Steel masterfully persuaded him with an offer he couldn't refuse. A few months back his wife had been diagnosed with Cardiac Amyloidosis, a disease that effects the heart. It's a chronic and progressive condition with a survival rate that typically doesn't extend past two years. Steel promised the best medical care possible for his wife, if in return Simon would take on a few unconventional clients at Belle Reve, one of whom included June Moone.

Typical of a deal with the devil, Simon soon realized. He'd gotten more then he bargained for when he discovered that his unconventiona clients manly consisted of prisoners who were also part of the governments 'work release' program, the Suicide Squad.

The very thought of working with such damaged individuals seemed beyond him. He had taken on clients of 'questionable backgrounds' before but that was when he was much younger and was still under the delusion that he could cure the world of all its ills. He was older now and had come to accept that some people would always be inclined to do wrong things, evil things. It sickened him to think that he might come face to face with such…evil. He wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to deal with it.

Regardless, Simon would endure and focus on the positive. The one constant in his life had always been his wife Ruth and the thought of losing her was more then he could possibly bare. He knew that the disease she carried would eventually take her but he hoped that by bringing her here, she would receive not only the best care, but also live out her remaining days free of pain and suffering that so often came in the later stages of her condition.

With his wife on his mind and in his heart, he was determined to make the best of the situation. He thumbed through the stack of folders in front of him in hopes of understanding the type of person it took to work for the 'Suicide Squad'.

Simon wondered if it was Waller who came up with the name and if she was truly a self-destructive individual or an insecure control freak? At some point he might be inclined to disregard her warning and find out for himself….maybe.

*****************

It was several hours later and Simon needed a break. He was completely horrified at the number of broken and damaged people that had been subjected to Waller's 'team'. Each file revealed another story more discouraging then the last. How was he ever to meet with these people face to face if he couldn't get past their lives and minds on paper?

He left his office in hopes of finding his one true crutch in life…hot coffee. There was an entire wing of the prison that contained living quarters for non-prisoners who were part of the mission's team as well as offices and service areas for staff members. He expected that the kitchen area would be unoccupied so late in evening with the missions team away and Waller gone for the day. Simon was surprised to see a light coming through an open doorway as he mover closer down the hallway. When he reached the open door, he looked inside.

“Doctor Lagrieve,” a man said from inside.

Simon poked his head in and saw an older man across the room sitting at a desk, “I'm sorry. I thought I was the only one awake at this ungodly hour.”

“Nonsense, there is no such thing,” the man smiled as he removed his reading glasses and moved from behind the desk toward the doorway.

It was then that Simon realized how foolish his comment had been when he saw the distinctive collar that sat on the mans desk, “Sorry…Father. I was in pursuit of coffee and…well it's been a long couple of days.”

“Then you come to the right place. I was just about to put a pot on. Would you care to join me?”

“I don't want to put you out. I will just make my way to the kitchen and be on my way. It was a pleasure to meet you, Father…” Simon said, extending his hand out.

“Cramer. And please, call me Richard. The weight of the collar is enough most of the time as it is.” He said as the two men shook hands, “So, do you like your coffee strong?” He turned away motioning Simon inside.

“Strong is the only way,” he responded as he slowly made his way inside and looked around. “I thought I had the smallest office here.”

“I believe I own that distinction, but most days I spend the majority of my time in the chapel. I just returned from visiting an old friend and thought I'd catch up on some business before the day started.”

Lagrieve felt somewhat uncomfortable to say the least. This was the closest to a church he had been since him and Ruth were married and that had been twenty-five years ago. It wasn't that he didn't believe in God, because he did. But he also believed that God wouldn't want his people wasting their time in worship. He had given them the tools to be self sufficient and self reliant. Simon did recognize from time to time that people felt the need to turn to a higher power in moments of stress or hardship but true strength and power to overcome adversity came from within. It was his job to help people embrace that power.

As the coffee began to brew he decided it wouldn't hurt to talk with someone who was in a similar situation here at Belle Reve. He took a seat in the chair in front of a small wooden desk, “So, may I ask…what brings a Roman Catholic priest to a prison?”

Father Craemer chuckled, “I am no longer a priest in the church but I guess you could say I go where God sends me.”

“I didn't realize God sent men of the cloth away to prison.”

Both men laughed as Father Craemer sat a cup of coffee down in front of Simon before sitting down across from him, “I've asked him that same question many times myself. Nevertheless my mission has taken me to worse places from time to time.”

Simon glanced back up at the wall behind Father Craemer at what appeared to be the Army Distinguished Service Cross next to a college diploma from the University of Michigan, “I can imagine,” Simon responded. Maybe there was more to this guy then he first realized. He felt somewhat ashamed. In his line of work he knew better then to judge someone based on preconceived notions.

Simon took another sip of the coffee, which relaxed him. He slowly sat the cup back down and leaned back in his chair. “So, are there many Catholic`s here at Belle Reve?”

“There are some but I am available to all, regardless of religion or denomination?”

“And that doesn't conflict with your beliefs?”

“Absolutly not. I have held worship for Mormons, Muslims, Hindus, you name it. But I draw the line at snake worshippers. Something about snakes just gives me the creeps.” Both men again found themselves laughing like two old friends that have known each other for years.

As the hours passed and a second pot of coffee was brewing, Simon got up and stretched. It had been sometime since he had had a pleasant conversation with someone other then his wife and even then it was hard to get passed the fact that he didn't feel as comfortable talking with her as he used to. He would often be overwhelmed with feelings of guilt knowing that she was slowly slipping away from him and one day he would be alone. She would recognize that look in his eye and stop him even before he spoke. You will not feel sorry for me. She would tell him. Come back when you have something positive to say. If he only had half her strength he could take on the world and be home in time for lunch.

Speaking with Richard, he noticed a similar strength. It was a quiet unspoken strength that made you feel at ease. Maybe that was why he had opened up like he had. A direct contrast to the way he had his patients open up before he could begin to treat them. This man of God would make a damn good psychiatrist if he ever felt inclined.. Simon thought as he sat back down.

After another cup of coffee, Simon once again stood up and stretched. Looking at his watch, he had realized that it was nearly sunrise. He would need to go home to shower and change before visiting hours began at the hospital. The recent dose of treatments his wife had endured since arriving had left her too weak to leave the hospital. Perhaps that was why he hadn't been in a hurry to go back to an empty apartment full of unpacked boxes.

“Richard I have really appreciated your time and company but I must be on my way. Hopefully I can make it out of here before Waller gets in. That woman truly frightens me.”

Father Craemer scowled, “Do not let that woman intimidate you. Inside, she's nothing more then a kitten,” Simon gave him a curious look, “Ok… she's a bitch, but mostly harmless once you get to know her. Gummi Bears usually help.”

“I will remember that if I am ever trapped in a corner. I will throw candy at her and run the other way,” he said as Father Craemer moved from around the desk and the two shook hands.

Simon moved reluctantly toward the doorway. He turned back to face the man he was proud to call his friend, “Richard….I just….thank you,” he said before turning back around.

“My pleasure, Simon. Anytime you need to talk or simply hide, you know where to find me,” Richard spoke as Simon stood in the doorway, “of course before you go I would be honored if you joined me prayer.”

Simon turned back, “I….I would like that.”

Both men bowed their heads as Father Craemer began, “Dear Lord, I thank you for the grace of being alive this morning. I thank you for the time you have allowed me to spend with my friend Simon Lagrieve. Please watch over him as he continues to travel down a new path. Allow him your strength as he endures through the challenges that surely await him. Oh Lord, please be with Ruth Lagrieve as she too must travel down a new path. Hold her hand when she feels lost. Let her lean on her when she feels weak. And carry her when she can no longer carry herself. Let your love shine the way always and forever. In your holy name we pray. Amen.”

Simon reached up to brush away a tear from his cheek as he whispered, “Amen.”




END.[/I]

[Romans Empire]

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