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    C James
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

In Memory of Ed Wooton

For the Love - 35. Hell's Fury

"Get that damn inventory sheet done," Betty growled, as I felt a wave of regret that her good mood of the previous day had vanished without a trace.

Dropping his broom, Steve began the inventory, as I continued to dust the shelves in the store's front area. Betty normally had an acid tongue, but today it seemed to contain real venom.

Betty, with an armload of books, headed for the back storeroom, and after exchanging a worried glance with Steve, I followed her. Easing the door closed behind me, I took note of the deep scowl on her face, "Betty, are you okay? I can tell something's eating at you."

She turned to glare at me, her mouth opening, no doubt to yell, but in an instant her face softened, "I'm just dealing with some personal stuff, it's like I don't know who I am anymore. I'll try and keep you guys from feeling the brunt of it, but I need to keep my mind occupied. So, do you know how to work that surveillance gadget Dex set up? I'd like to see if we got anything."

Smiling, I walked over to the monitor and clicked it on, hoping that I knew what I was doing. Betty called Steve into the room while I tried to figure out how to re-wind the tape, if indeed anything had been taped at all.

Steve looked over my shoulder at the screen, "How long ago was this taken?" he asked.

I looked up at the screen to see the faint outline of the tunnel intersection at the bottom of the old stairs, so dim that I couldn't make out any detail even after pumping up the contrast, "I haven't rewound it yet - I think this is live."

Betty joined us as we stared at the unmoving, unchanging scene, "Guys, the tape counter on the VCR is running. Looks like there is about half an hour of tape there; if Dex's photo-switch is working, that means there's been activity."

We stared at the screen for a few moments, but nothing changed. I shrugged, "maybe it's just a light at one end, and there hasn't been..." I broke off in mid-sentence, as the image began to change, brightening steadily, more detail coming into view.

As we watched, a silhouette of a guy holding a flashlight moved across the field of view, only to disappear off the other edge of the screen. The image returned to semi-darkness as Betty grumbled, "Looks like there's at least one rat in the hole today."

"Heading for the parcel delivery place... I wonder why?" Steve remarked with a scowl.

We didn't have long to discuss the issue; a few minutes later, the image began changing again, growing brighter as the beam of a flashlight played across the dusty floor of the tunnel. Again a figure appeared, too fast to make out much detail, though not quite as fast as before. This time, we could see that the guy was carrying a box.

We watched as the guy made two more trips, seeing nothing new until the last one; for a brief moment, he glanced towards the camera as he passed, his face lit for a fraction of a second by the reflected beam of his flashlight. I felt Steve's hand on my shoulder squeeze hard as he gasped, "Roll the tape back, see if you can freeze that frame."

I stopped the tape, winding it back two minutes, then advancing frame by frame until I stopped. We stared at the frozen image, barely able to make out half the face, but half was enough, it was easy to recognize even with the slightly swollen nose. Steve's hold on my shoulder became almost painful as I heard him growl, "Eric..."

Reaching for my cell phone, intending to call the police, I forgot for a moment that I couldn't get a signal in the storeroom. I took only a single hurried stride towards the door, but to my surprise, Betty waved me off, "Let me do it. You two get the live feed going again."

Betty's voice echoing through the open storeroom door confirmed she had gotten through, and she sounded none too happy as she returned to announce, "Jacobs is the only one at the station and he can barely walk," She turned to Steve, "Your father and the sheriff are out on Route Six, arresting a drunk driver who'd run off the road. Jacobs said they'd be here in about half an hour."

Snatching up the sledgehammer, she growled, "We can't wait. There isn't time, he'll disappear again," as she handed me the heavy sledge. "How fast can you guys take that wall down? Time it so he's in the parcel delivery place, maybe he won't hear."

Steve signaled his agreement by taking the sledgehammer, as Betty added, "If we can get Eric, the little weasel will probably roll on Thaddeus, which suits your purposes and mine; nailing the bastard."

"I've got my own score to settle with Eric, so let's do this," Steve snarled.

We watched the monitor, and after what seemed like forever, Eric reappeared, heading back to the parcel delivery store. Betty held up her hand, staring intently at her watch, until she muttered a single word, "Go."

The ringing sound of Steve's first blow was enough to wake the dead, and I felt sure Eric would hear it. Steve second swing gave a very different tone, and I saw the entire wall move a few inches into the opening. Steve hauled back for a third swing, grunting with the effort as he gave it everything he had. It was more than enough; the plug of bricks split down the middle, folding in the center, hanging for a moment before collapsing in pieces down the steps.

Betty killed the room light, tossing me a flashlight as she slipped open the cupboard door to retrieve her SKS. Slamming the rifle's bolt back, she said, "Leave the flashlight off. Maybe we can take him by surprise."

I followed Steve as he felt his way down the steps, shifting the scattered bricks with his feet. We came to a halt, my flashlight at the ready, waiting for any sign from the pitch-black tunnel.

Glimmering in the distance, a flashlight approached. We froze, not even daring to breathe as our quarry neared. As he drew near, we could see that it was Eric, carrying a box, heading right for us. I tensed up, ready to pounce.

Stumbling after his foot collided with a brick, Eric lurched forward, the box flying from his grasp, slamming into my legs before landing on Steve's feet, costing us both our footing and forestalling our planned leap.

Snapping the flashlight up as he regained his balance, Eric's eyes flew open wide and I heard him mutter, "What the..."

Breaking into a run, Eric surged past us as Steve kicked the box out of the way. I flicked on my flashlight as Steve led the way, running hard down the cramped, dank tunnel, just yards behind Eric as we raced towards the storage room at the far end.

Eric had a short head start, just a dozen feet, but held his lead as he raced up the tunnel. Entering the room containing the boxes and a cot bed, Eric dashed through the door at the far end, slamming it shut in our faces. Steve tried the knob, finding it locked. Rearing back, using our shoulders, we battered against the door, its old hinges groaning in protest, the frame bowing inwards. After our fourth try, the door gave way, revealing a long narrow room with a vaulted brick ceiling, lit by a single bare light bulb.

At the far end of the room sat a desk and computer, surrounded by filing cabinets. A few low stacks of boxes stood in heaps around the rest of the room. What did not appear to be in the room was Eric. We walked forward, glancing around, noting that the room appeared to have once been a wine cellar, with brick alcoves lining the left side. The alcove at the end closest to the door proved to be the end of a staircase, so I stood guard while Steve headed towards the desk at the far end.

I watched as Steve approached the desk, ducking out of sight, "Chris, there's another opening here. This alcove has a ladder at the back, leading up to a manhole cover. If he went this way, he's gone."

After a sweep of the room, looking anywhere Eric might hide, Steve joined me at the foot of the stairs. We edged up the rough stone slabs, listening for any sound. My flashlight beam playing ahead, we saw that the stairs took a turn and continued upwards.

The stairs ended in a short corridor, one encased in wooden beams instead of brick and stone. We had to stoop low to avoid the ceiling, but we soon reached the end, finding our way blocked by a flat wooden panel; a dead end...

We stared at the wood for a few moments, until I noticed a round metal ring in the wood. "Peephole," I whispered, as I leaned forward for a look.

The sight that greeted my eye was a fish-eye view of the ornate church, looking down at the lavish, raised pulpit and the simple oak pews beyond.

A few moments' probing turned up hinges and a catch. Easing the catch open, I pushed against the wood panel. It opened in silence, allowing me to peek out into the church. I saw no sign of anyone, so I crept out, Steve following right behind me.

We found ourselves standing on a raised marble floor at the foot of the richly appointed alter. The door to the hidden passage began to swing shut, but Steve caught it with his foot, "We better find out how it opens, or block it ajar. Otherwise, we'll be stuck in here."

I stared at the concealed door in the middle of the ostentatious high alter; it was made of polished mahogany paneling. In its center hung a large white marble crucifix, which I noted was positioned so that it would appear to be rising over the head of whoever occupied the pulpit. The panel was surrounded by a row of decorative iron rivets, one of which contained a barely visible bubble of glass; the peephole lens. A closer examination of the crucifix revealed that Jesus' head was not seamlessly attached, looking instead to be a separate piece. Gently twisting the head to the right, I felt it turn with little resistance, until Steve whispered, "The latch on the back just moved. That's it, that's the way it opens."

"How reverent of the good reverend," I whispered as Steve let the door close. We checked around the altar for hiding places, and finding none we moved into the main body of the church, checking down the pews, peeking into vestibules and the entryway, finding no sign of Eric.

The layout of the church was at the same time similar too and starkly different from Reverend Mike's. In Reverend Mike's church, the pulpit was both simple and close to the level of the congregation, with the altar drawing the eyes as the focal center. In Thaddeus' church, the lavish, raised pulpit seemed to be the intended centerpiece, with everything else subservient to it, including the altar and the crucifix.

I turned towards the altar, noticing a door on that wall to the far right. Steve led the way, pausing to listen against the door as we reached it. We both heard a rustle of papers and a low muttering from within, so we backed away, beating a hasty retreat to the high altar as Steve whispered, "Thaddeus... Its gotta be... Eric wouldn't be making any noise."

Giving Jesus' head a gentle turn to open the passage door, I said, "If Thaddeus is unaware of what's going on, that means Eric didn't come this way."

Steve waited until we were in the passage with the door closed behind us to reply, "Yeah. I think so. But I also think we found something better than Eric..."

"Thaddeus' real computer..." I answered with a grin as we made our way down the cold stone stairs.

We turned our attention to the storage room, with its diminished stacks of boxes and the small cot. The cot looked as if it had been slept in. Steve growled, "So this is where Eric's been hiding out. I thought he'd be in Piedmont somewhere."

Steve flicked open a pocketknife, using it to rip open a box. Inside were blank plastic chips, about the size of.... "Credit cards," I mumbled.

Other boxes contained silk-screening supplies, while still others contained solvents and liquid ephedrine. I pointed out a wire, running along the bottom of the wall until it disappeared behind the stacked boxes. The other end ran through what appeared to be a freshly-drilled hole in the wall between this room and the other, a little pile of mortar dust a sign of the hole's recent creation.

Steve followed my stare, "Might be an alarm of some kind. Let's leave the rest of the boxes alone...," he said, taking a step back.

Something nagged at the back of my mind, taking form as I said, "When I was in Piedmont, the sheriff said something about equipment for making credit cards from the information on the data stick. I don't see much here except boxes of supplies..."

Steve looked over his shoulder, back towards the other room, "Yeah, this is some kind of shipping point. The main operation must be elsewhere. That manhole cover might be how they move stuff out of here... Let's have a look."

I followed Steve to the back alcove of the long room, and held the flashlight, watching with unease as he climbed the ladder. A groan from Steve, followed by a dull scraping sound, resulted in a shaft of sunlight entering the alcove. Blinking from the glare, I shielded my eyes as the sunlight disappeared, accompanied by the metallic scraping sound. Steve climbed back down to tell me, "It opens under a parking space behind the church. I saw a movie once where bank robbers used a manhole with a truck parked over it to move their loot. They'd cut a hole in the bottom of the van, and used it to load stuff. If that's what happened here, somebody could load a vehicle even while being observed. The parking space has plants growing on the street side, so nobody would have a view of the gap between the vehicle body and the ground."

I nodded, "That would make sense. They've got the parcel delivery place at one end of the tunnel, and the church and this manhole at the other. I wonder where the other site is... Maybe where Dex's GPS gadget reported from?"

Steve moved past me, towards the computer as he replied, "Could be. The question is; what do we do about this computer? Take it out of here or..."

"You'll take nothing," boomed a voice from behind us.

Spinning around, we found ourselves just a few yards from a man dressed in a black business suit. I immediately recognized his balding head and thick black mustache, as Steve gasped, "Thaddeus..."

"That's ReverendThaddeus to you thieving abominations. Now, get out of here before I have you arrested for breaking and entering!"

I exchanged a glance with Steve, before pointing out an obvious fact to Thaddeus, "We're taking the computer, and you can't stop us. If you were armed, you'd have done something already."

Thaddeus began to turn red, his fists balling at his sides, "I said get out of here, right now," he bellowed, in a voice loud enough to be painful in the confined space.

Steve turned to examine the back of the computer case, as Thaddeus stepped towards us. I took a step forward, causing Thaddeus to backpedal. He glanced around, his hands clenching and unclenching, by my guess looking for something to use as a weapon.

There wasn't anything that I could see that would be of much use to him, but my blood ran cold as I heard the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered.

Thaddeus had discovered a weapon, but not quite what, nor where he'd expected. His face blanched at the sound from behind him, as the muzzle of an automatic rifle came into view through the door.

"Hi, Betty" I said, moving to the side so that Thaddeus wasn't between us.

Betty stopped at the door, her SKS trained on Thaddeus as he slowly looked back at her. "Move, and you're Swiss Cheese," growled Betty. "I was listening from the other end of the tunnel, waiting in case Eric doubled back, but I decided 'what the hell, why should Chris and Steve have all the fun?' and was on my way when I heard this asshole - I was hoping he was armed, so I'd have an excuse to put a few holes in him!"

Recovering his arrogant demeanor, Thaddeus yelled, "All of you; get out, or I'll call the police."

His demeanor did little to hide the notes of desperation and fear in his voice. Betty picked up on it, smiling coldly as she said, "I got ahold of Dex and he's on his way, so leave that computer alone. Everyone just stay put."

Thaddeus began to sweat, the color draining from his face. I figured that he must know what we'd find on his computer; evidence to send him to prison for a very long time.

We stood waiting, staring at each other for long minutes. A clatter of hurried footsteps from the outer room drew my attention, as Steve's father stepped into view next to Betty, breathing hard, his service revolver drawing a bead on Thaddeus. Sheriff Buchanan appeared behind him, gently pushing Betty's SKS to point toward the ceiling. Betty took the hint and clicked the safety back on, but left the round in the chamber. Following procedure, the sheriff gently took the SKS from Betty, laying it in the corner of an alcove.

Sheriff Buchanan stepped into the room, giving me an angry glare before saying, "Can't you two stay out of trouble for one damn second?"

Steve smiled, pointing to Thaddeus' computer, "We saw Eric and chased him down here, but we found this, plus chemicals and what look like credit card forgery supplies in the other room."

The sheriff glared for a moment, his face softening a little as he said, "Too bad you didn't catch Eric, but it looks to me like you caught a bigger fish. I'm betting we'll find what we need on that computer and in these rooms."

Thaddeus glared at the sheriff, "You can't, not without a warrant. This room is beneath the parking lot behind mychurch. This is myproperty, so I'd suggest you leave."

Sheriff Buchanan laughed, "Your memory seems to be a little selective, Thaddeus. I had a warrant for your premises; we used it when we searched your church, remember? The FBI informed me that your e-mail was coming from a web-based e-mail service, which recorded your IP. Dex said that old computer we seized wasn't the one, so wouldn't you know it, I got me another warrant. Besides, a fugitive was seen in these tunnels, so I have probable cause to be here. Either way, you lose."

* * *

Dex's arrival cut off Thaddeus's reply. Dex looked at us all, then without a word went to the computer, looking behind it before snapping on some plastic gloves and powering it up. As it booted, Dex said, "There's a wireless network card in here. He must have a wireless router close by. I'm surprised it works at all with these brick walls. He's got some other cables running out of the back, maybe to some kind of surveillance system. I think this computer is the one we are looking for."

The computer finished booting, Dex clicking through screens at lighting speed as we watched in silence. After several minutes, Dex coughed once before announcing, "I've found the cookie for the web-based e-mail account, as well as some draft text which matches what the FBI found in Honolulu. It's a match, this is what we need." Dex immediately slid the keyboard into a plastic bag, which I found a little odd, as he hadn't disconnected the keyboard cable, yet.

Sheriff Buchanan grinned broadly, reaching for the cuffs hanging on his belt, "Thaddeus J. Emoe, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Thaddeus didn't respond as Sheriff Buchanan stepped behind him, but I saw his face twitch as the sound of handcuffs snapping onto his wrists filled the room, as beautiful a sound as I'd ever heard.

Mr. Williams glanced at his watch, "We've got to get moving. We came straight here; the drunk we busted is still in the car."

Sheriff Buchanan nodded, "Yeah. Dex, bring the computer. Let's go."

Thaddeus, now covered in sweat, watched as Dex powered down the computer, blurting out, "If I'm under arrest, get me out of here this instant! I'm claustrophobic, so this is cruel and unusual treatment..."

The sheriff growled, "We'll be on our way in a minute..."

Thaddeus, sweating even harder, his face showing a sickly gray pallor, stared as Dex began unhooking cables from the back of the computer. He sidestepped towards the passage to his church, terror in his eyes. Sheriff Buchanan grabbed his shoulder, shoving him against the wall with the words, "Not so fast, you're not going anywhere..."

Instead of replying, Thaddeus struggled, crying out, "No, don't touch the computer..."

I followed his panicked eye to look at Dex as he eased out the computer case, reaching behind it... "No, Dex, don't!" I yelled, realizing too late that something was badly wrong...

A muffled thumpshook the stone floor, followed by a loud crumpfrom the other room. Betty, staggering from the force of the blast, stumbled towards us, away from the door frame, revealing the sickly flickering yellow light of flames.

Dex rushed to her side, yelling the obvious, "Booby trap," as I ran for the broken door, shoving it back into place, catching a last glimpse of flames rolling across the ceiling as I slammed it against its frame, shoving over a pile of boxes to prop it into place. One box split open, a few brown glass bottles rolling out. Dex glanced at one, muttering, "Ether; this is extremely volatile..."

A popping sound through the door caught Dex's attention as he held the shaken Betty, "What was in those boxes in the other room?" he barked, staring at the door, and the flickering yellow light and black smoke coming in around its edges.

"Solvents, chemicals, plastic credit-card blanks..." Steve replied before Dex cut him off;

"The solvents are highly flammable, and the plastics can create poisonous fumes. That door can't hold for long. If there isn't another way out of here, we are dead."

Thaddeus, his face ashen, blurted out in panic, "There's twenty gallons of gasoline next to the charge... Get me out of here!"

I pointed at the alcove that contained the stairs;"This way, it leads into the church."

Steve grabbed the computer case and the bagged keyboard, and I realized that I still had the flashlight, so I led the way into the passage. As I took the first stairs, I heard the sheriff snarl at Thaddeus, "I've got half a mind to leave you down here... You rigged that when you knew we were after your computer, to trap and kill anyone who tried to take it."

Ducking low, moving as fast as I could, I reached the wooden panel at the end of the passage, clicking the latch and throwing it open. I spun around as soon as I was inside the church, shining the flashlight into the passage to guide the others out. I cringed as a loud roar echoed up from below as Dex, holding Betty, cleared the door. Sheriff Buchanan, shoving Thaddeus ahead of him, emerged a second later, followed by Mr. Williams. An eternal second later, Steve's blond head appeared, backlit by the orange glow of the approaching wall of fire. As soon as Steve was clear, I slammed the panel shut.

Sheriff Buchanan stared at it, "We looked everywhere, or thought we did. So that's where it was..."

A muffled thumpinterrupted the sheriff, rattling the wood panel that sealed the passage. Dex said in a flat tone, "Those bottles are bursting, adding fuel to the fire, and there is a great deal of very volatile materiel down there."

The sheriff looked at the panel, wisps of black smoke leaking from its edges, "In other words, we'd better get the hell out of here..."

"Yes, sir," agreed Dex as he hugged Betty, another rumbling roar sounding from the passage door.

Moving fast, we trotted down the alter steps, Thaddeus stumbling as we reached the aisle. The sheriff and Mr. Williams each grabbed an arm, hauling him along as we dashed for the front of the church. No sooner had we reached the front door than a clatter from behind made us turn. The panel was gone, replaced by a tongue of angry orange flame, licking like hell's fury against the richly appointed tapestries displayed around the altar.

The Sheriff opened the main door, the blast of harsh sunlight a welcome if painful sight. We emerged from the building, blinking against the glare, Mr. Williams dialing frantically on his cell phone. I glanced back inside the ornate church, the rich appointments near the passage now feeding the growing blaze. I closed the door, hearing the first wail of a fire engine in the distance, accompanied by the louder wail of Thaddeus, "My church... You've got to save it... Do something..."

The Sheriff grabbed Thaddeus by the shoulder, spinning him around to snarl in his face, "It was your bright idea to rig a damn booby trap. You should have known it would take out the church as well as the tunnel."

Sheriff Buchanan shoved Thaddeus up the sidewalk towards Betty's bookstore. Mr. Williams stayed behind, the rest of us following the sheriff. Frequent glances back revealed the inexorable end of Thaddeus' church; smoke pouring from the upper windows, tongues of flame beginning to shoot out from the eves... A tinkle of glass announced the collapse of the intricate stained-glass windows, just minutes after the fire had begun.

Lonesome Valley's one fire engine screamed down Main Street, racing past us, arriving at the burning church just before we rounded the corner; the old firemen leaping out, playing out their hoses to turn them on the fire. It was too late to do much for the church, but they looked like they had a good chance of stopping the flames from spreading to nearby buildings.

Reaching the Sheriff's patrol car, I took note of the bleary-eyed drunk, staring at us from the back of the cruiser with glazed, rheumy eyes. The sheriff wasted no time in stuffing Thaddeus into the cruiser beside the drunk. Thaddeus, his eyes fixed on the column of black smoke rising into the desert sky, never noticed the green tinge on the drunk's face.

I bit my tongue as the drunk swayed against Thaddeus, disgorging the contents of his stomach into Thaddeus's lap. The sheriff stared for a moment, before slamming the door, telling us with a chuckle, "I'll put Thaddeus on clean-up duty at the jail. I'll make damn sure he gets the job of cleaning my car..."

The sheriff took the computer and keyboard from Steve, handling it gently as he placed it in the trunk of his cruiser, calling out to Dex as he closed the lid, "This will be in the evidence safe, and I'll need a full report from you for the D.A. in a day or two, so come on in when you can." Turning to give me, and then Steve, an appraising glare, the sheriff mumbled, "I guess your crazy escapade in Honolulu paid off after all. What the FBI uncovered on the computers there, combined with what Dex said is on the one here, should make the criminal charges against Thaddeus an open-and-shut case, which won't exactly hurt your civil suit."

We watched the Sheriff drive off, Thaddeus' stricken face peering from the back of the cruiser as it rounded the corner, heading for the county jail.

I hugged Steve, both of us relieved and overjoyed to see our nemesis on his way to jail. Breaking the hug, I noticed Betty, still wrapped in Dex's arms, looking a little ruffled but otherwise okay. She had the biggest grin I've ever seen as she bellowed, "Stick a fork in him, Thaddeus is done..."

Dex glanced up at the column of smoke, its color having changed to grey but still billowing skyward, "I'd say his church is done, too; welldone..."

Betty nodded, "Don't worry, guys, I'm sure it was insured. I have a feeling you'll be owning it soon enough."

Steve watched with a smile as Dex walked Betty into the bookstore, Betty giving us a friendly wave from the door, "I gotta say it's never dull when you two are around. Now, for giving me a chance to be part of taking down Thaddeus once and for all, you two get the day off, with pay. Go celebrate; I've got a feeling that what's on that computer will give you a lot of good news here shortly."

Climbing into the Charger, I hi-fived with Steve, feeling that at last, it was over; Blackheart gone, the Piedmont Sheriff under indictment, Eric on the run without a place to hide, and Thaddeus in jail with hard evidence against him, evidence that would make our civil suit a slam-dunk: we'd won.

©Copyright 2007 C James; All Rights Reserved.
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Please let me know what you think; good, bad, or indifferent.  The feedback thread for this story is in my Forum. Please stop by and say "Hi!"

Many thanks to Conner for editing, support, encouragement, beta reading, and suggestions on this chapter.
Many thanks also to my editor EMoe for editing and for his support, encouragement, beta reading, and suggestions (and for thinking up a title!).

Thanks also to Shadowgod, for beta reading and advice, and for putting up with me.
Any remaining errors are mine alone.

Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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OMG... No cliffy? I guess they can afford college in Hawaii after all. Now, about Eric..... Hoping him and his 'dad' become real friendly with Bubba!

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Almost the perfect chapter. Unfortunately, Eric is dead or alive somewhere, and the fake card factory is still open.  I would look out for a very vengeful Eric if I were the guys.  I hope Dex has told the Sheriff Buchanan the GPS coordinates for the factory.

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