"STALK ME"

Her name was Riley.

Her threat level was undetermined.

Her attachment to John was irrefutable.

She was being quiet. She was being clever. Her boots were soundless in the dewy grass, damp from natural condensation and the timed sprinklers. Her eyes scanned easily through the darkness for signs of danger. Soundlessly, she made her way through the twilight, approaching the home of her unsuspecting target.

Intel, was what Sarah called it. Gathering intel. Short for intelligence. Gaining inside information on one's opponent. Know thy enemy. Cameron wished to know her enemy further. Although she already knew her threat was none, that this girl inevitably posed no physical danger to John- initial scans assured her that the girl was incapable of overpowering John, much less Cameron- still she wished to have more information and assess the situation before John decided to 'hang out' with her again.

Cameron wanted to be ready.

These were her logically sound reasons for lying to Sarah about her current location. These were her logically sound reasons for not telling Derek she had taken the 9mm- his favorite- with her. These were her logically sound reasons for listening in on John's phone conversations, following him to the location she had arrived at mere minutes ago, and discerned that the second floor window at the left corner of the house belonged to his new friend.

The flickering on of a light in that very window grabbed Cameron's attention. Cocking her head to the side, she moved towards the side of the building. She stopped just below the window arching her neck back until it was at an angle that surely would have been uncomfortable had she been human. Luckily,

Cameron was not human. The position did not perturb her. Nothing about this perturbed her as it might have John or Sarah or Derek. Nothing, that is, until the dog.

She had not seen the dog before. It had most likely been chained in the back during John's visit. It was chained now, too; however, the unnatural state of

Cameron's being had set it off and it now yanked at that chain, pulling towards her, stopping just short of the corner.

This was not conducive to her mission. The animal would awaken its master and potentially others in the neighborhood. Already, Cameron noted the shadowed silhouette crossing the curtains in her target's window. Undoubtedly, if the noise continued, she would open the window and call down to the dog requiring silence. If this were ineffective- which was likely to be the case- she would come outside to check on the animal.

That could be problematic.

Cameron would have to silence the canine herself.

Briefly, her eyes glowed blue as she stared at the large black dog, who had until that moment, been riling at his chain to get at her. Now, having somehow sensed her intent, it whimpered and backed away, tail held between its hind legs. This suggested submission; however, she could not predict an animal that relied solely on instinct. She couldn't risk a potential renewed vigor against her arrival.

She stepped forward as he stepped back, low to the ground. She offered her hand to the dog as she had seen John do before and produced a convincing facsimile of a smile.

"Here boy. Good boy," she told him quietly in what was supposed to be a 'calm and reassuring' tone, yet somehow fell short of that.

The dog was not fooled.

Cameron dropped the facade as soon as she realized its ineffectiveness. With one last scan of the initial area, she followed the dog into the back; the wooden door of their fence had been left open. There was a loud whimper before a sickening snap and a muted thud. Then all was silent.

She returned, closing the gate behind her and stared once more up at the window. The light had been extinguished.

His name was John.

He was a loner by nature, it seemed.

A bit of a bad boy, she had thought at first.

She had a thing for bad boys. But as she had slowly, yet surely, grown a small space for herself in his life, she realized something. He wasn't so much a loner and a bad boy as he was a little lost puppy, beaten and starved for attention. And as much as she had a thing for bad boys, her true passion was projects.

The ones that needed a little something more. Something they weren't getting at home.

Maybe because she was a bit of a project herself.

It wasn't like she was homeless. She wasn't some charity case with only the clothes on her back who slept in a dumpster and showered at the school, because that was all she had. No, she had a family. A father and stepmother. They had a decent house with a white picket fence, two point five kids and a dog.

Okay, the fence was brown and a little rotted, and two of those two point five kids were steppers whom she had luckily met only once, but the dog was hers. All hers.

Which was why when he had started barking up a storm that night, she felt a twinge of worry settle into her stomach. She glanced at her window, rolling her eyes as she realized seeing anything out of that was impossible as the blinds were currently closed. Shaking her head, she moved over deliberating whether or not it would be a good idea to go and check on him. The idea passed, however, when she heard silence. Whatever had spooked Channa the Wonder Dog- she had been ten, so sue her- was gone now and all was quiet.

"Too quiet," she muttered to herself with a quick laugh that was laced with unease. It was times like these she almost wished her parentals bothered to stick around late at night.

Dismissing her dog's rowdy behavior and her parents constant absence, Riley turned out the light and fell back on her bed, mussing up the recently made blue-green comforters and matching throw pillows. For several long moments she told herself she wouldn't look. Once those moments had passed she immediately went back on her word and rolled onto her side to glance at the bedside clock.

1:17 AM.

Late. Or really early. Either way, not an appropriate time to call someone. Especially not someone who was all but on lock down with some freaky militant house-arrest mother and an uncle whom she was just positive owned a gun.

Nope. Definitely not an appropriate time.

Digging around in the pocket of her jacket, Riley retrieved her cell phone, flipping it open and pressing speed dial. It rang only twice before the groggy-sounding voice of John Baum filtered through.

'M'ello?'

She grinned despite herself. She had woken him up. "Twentieth, November," she said quickly and awkwardly before jumping into the fray. "Hey there Cat Fancy. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

There was some mumbling and grumbling before he managed to wake himself up enough to speak coherently. 'No, of course not. Why would one thirty in the morning be a bad time?'

"Technically, it's only one twenty," she corrected mildly.

She could almost hear him rolling his eyes back at her. 'Yeah, well, maybe you should have called at one-thirty. I might have been in a better mood.'

"What's the fun in that?"

A pause. 'Is everything okay?'

Her grin faltered a moment. He always asked that question. "Duh, I'm fine. Don't be such a dork."

No response.

Right. She cleared her throat uncertainly. "So... you never called me back."

'What?'

Maybe it was the time of night- or day, or whatever. Or maybe he just didn't remember, but she was kind of hoping it was the first one. "Remember? You said you'd call me later."

'Oh.'

"Behold, master of one word responses," she mocked him irritably. Was it too much to ask for a little... enthusiasm when he talked to her?

'Call me back in about... five or six hours and maybe you'll get two word ones.'

She rolled her eyes at him, even though he couldn't see her. "Well sorry for-"

A crash that sounded like it was just outside her window made her pause mid-sentence.

'Riley?' He sounded officially awake and genuinely concerned. 'Riley, what's wrong? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Riley!'

"Relax John!" She might have been flattered by his concern, if she didn't have the sinking suspicion it was something that he tended to feel for everyone. "It was just something outside. Probably an alley cat or something." That is, if alley cats were known for doing what suspiciously sounded like tossing trashcans around...

Another pause. 'You sure?'

Her grin returned. "If I said no, would you come and make sure I'm safe?"

'Uh, well, I just meant-'

That grin fell again. "I'm just messing John. Don't get your yarn balls all in a twist."

'Yarn balls? Do I even want to ask about that one?'

A hand smacked to her forehead as she realized how stupid that really sounded. Why did she always say stupid things around him? Clearing her throat once more, she dodged. "Maybe it's your sister out there, stalking the competition for her dear, sweet only brother's affections."

The silence she received in response was sort of unnerving. As though he were legitimately considering the idea. Riley really did not want him to be legitimately considering the idea. 'I'm sure my sister wouldn't do that.' His response had come far too late.

Nervously, she let out a laugh. "Yeah, right. I mean, she's there now, isn't she? How could she be here if she's there?" It was a lame way of asking if his sister was home, but she was starting to weird herself out. The fact that she could hear John moving around on the other end of the line didn't help any. Like he was checking...

"John?"

Another long pause. 'I'm coming over.'

"What? John-"

She heard the click come through signaling the end of the conversation. "What the hell?"

Another crash outside had her wondering just what was going on and if John's freaky sister was someone she should really be concerned with...

Her name was Cameron.

She was a Terminator.

She was sent here to protect him.

And right now he was having some serious doubts about how well she was 'functioning' since the 'accident'. If she was where he thought she was- and he was pretty sure she was- and if she was doing what he thought she was doing- and there was a good chance that she was- then she may very well have just stepped off the proverbial cybernetic organism equivalent of 'the deep end'.

And the thing with Terminators? They sink. Fast. And if he didn't get there soon, he wasn't sure he could pull her back up.

Which was why he had slipped out of the house. Why he had tiptoed down the stairs past both his mother's room and the passed out form of Derek sleeping on the couch despite having his own room now. Why he had snuck a Glock from the emergency drawer and stuffed it in the waistband of his jeans. Why he had put the newly acquired truck into neutral and pushed it out of the driveway to avoid causing a noise that would undoubtedly awaken his parental unit.

Having managed to get it down the road a safe distance, he jumped into the truck and started it up, sending only a brief final glance back at his home. The home that Cameron was currently not at. Thus, his worry.

"Please be paranoid, please be paranoid," he muttered to himself, hoping this was all just him overreacting.

He drove quickly down the virtually empty streets, making a harsh left turn with a bit of a screech from the tires, down two more blocks past the park and then the school, until he was down her street. There he slowed marginally, stopping on the curb with a jolting halt.

His eyes widened as he watched the scene unfolding before him.

"Oh ****."

Her name was Riley.

Riley something.

John never said her last name.

Why didn't he say her last name?

Cameron should have been made aware of all information pertaining to this new girl. She could be a threat. She could be a danger to John, if not physically then-

-Then what? What threat could this girl pose to John? Why-

-She was dangerous-

-John had told her not to damage Riley.

But she didn't necessarily follow John's orders. Not this John. Even though this John was becoming like future John. Her John. His orders were inescapable.

His orders were to protect John Connor, his past self.

"That is what I am doing," she said aloud to the empty lawn in a voice that was very near to agitation. "I am protecting John Connor." She took up one of the trashcans left in the back. Lifting it up high above her head, she stared at the wall where up above was Riley's window. With an odd twitch to her head and a stony face, she tossed the can easily into the wall just hard enough to leave a dramatic dent in the side.

"She is a threat. I am," she didn't bother with the trashcan this time, tearing it out of her way letting it roll about the lawn until it's momentum pushed through the rotted wooden fence. "Protecting John Connor." With a terrifyingly blank expression, she used her own hands to rip through the wall, dusting the grass with bits and pieces of plywood, molding and paint, splinters flying at her face and embedding into her skin.

Not that she noticed. The only thing she noticed was the entryway she had just created. It broke through into the garage, a messy half-organized place filled with a work bench, several cans of nails and a rack of tools, one of which was not in it's place. A heavy metal jack lay beside the shiny silver car that she recognized as belonging to the target parked safely away. Her eyes flashed blue and she took a menacing step forward. Leaning down, she retrieved the jack and proceeded to bring it down with metal bending strength on the hood of the car, denting it to the point of breaching, bending the metal inwards to damage the engine.

With a heavy sideswipe she took out the window, shattering glass both across the interior leather seats and the concrete pavement. Like a machete she used the jack to slice through the frame of the car, the window of the door crunching into tiny pieces. Pulling it out harshly, she threw it backwards to sail through the gaping hole in the wall and land somewhere nearby with a crash. She then proceeded to grip the front top of the car and tear it open with the sound of screeching metal filling the half-sealed room.

By the time she finally yanked off the doors and tossed them about, the garage looked as though it had just been through the Junkyard from Hell and back. Apparently satisfied with the car's disassembly and the garage's destruction, Cameron proceeded to move towards the house, pulling the door off its hinges.

"Primary mission: protect John Connor," she muttered strangely.

What the hell was that? It sounded like someone just tore through the side of the house. Maybe it was an earthquake... Or John had decided to make a splashy entrance and just now drove through a couple of her walls. Improbable... but somehow, she wouldn't put it past him. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, playing 'Save Tonight' to inform her that it was John calling. She dug it out of her pocket and flipped it open.

'Riley!' John's voice sounded almost panicked. 'Are you okay?'

"Yeah," she confirmed, becoming increasingly worried about the racket just below her. "But there's something seriously weird going on downstairs, John. I mean-"

'Are you downstairs now?'

"What?" She asked distractedly, trying to get a good look out her window. "No, no I'm in my room, but-"

'Good, I just got here.'

"Okay, wait, I'll come down and meet you," she told him while slipping on her shoes.

'No!' He practically yelled at her. 'Riley no. Um, meet me in the back, okay?'

"But-" She started to protest, confused.

'Riley, just do it!'

It was an order, and as she told him, "Okay John. I'll meet you in the back," she heard the familiar click of him hanging up on the other end. She pulled the cell away from her ear and stared at it for a long moment, worry beginning to show through. John was behaving weird, there was some insane cat destroying her trashcans and her dog was being eerily quiet. What was going on?

Shoving her cell phone into the pocket of her jacket, she finished putting her shoes on and rushed down the stairs taking two at a time. A crash to her right made her pause momentarily. Whatever it was, it was decidedly not an alley cat and was currently destroying her garage. Tempted, she almost went to go and check, but John's order rang loud and clear in her head, so she dodged to her left and headed for the back.

John watched as Cameron tore through the sidewall, heard the crunching and crashing that signaled she was doing some serious damage within, and nearly panicked. Just as he finished his call with Riley, giving her explicit instructions to get out of the house and go to the back, the metal jack that Cameron had tossed casually aside came tearing through the air right at him. He didn't have time to mutter 'oh ****', before he ducked down as it crashed through the windshield, spraying him with glass. Sitting back up quickly, he glanced around.

No Cameron. Reaching over, he grabbed the jack and dove out of the truck. He took the pavement at a run, jumping the old wooden fence and landing in the yard.

He stopped in front of the large hole in the wall, shaking his head. Things were not looking good. He had expected to find Cameron there, perhaps a little crazed and tearing the place apart, maybe even going at it with another Terminator, but all he found was the demolished remnants of what was probably once a very nice silver car. No sign of Cam- well, besides the obvious.

Crunching over bits of glass and metal, he raced through the now doorless entryway. He thought he spotted Cameron heading up the stairs towards the second floor and was about to pursue her when he heard the scream.

It was coming from the back.

"Riley," he muttered, turning from the stairs and running into the backyard.

He found her there, kneeling in the grass cradling what appeared to be the carcass of her dead dog. She was sobbing in between screams of horror and anguish, rocking back and forth.

Biting his lower lip and shaking his head- he had the sinking suspicion he knew exactly what happened here- he approached her slowly. "Riley?" He called as gently as possible.

Her head jerked up in his direction and now he could see the tears streaking down her face. "Channa," she sobbed.

He nodded to her, dropping the jack on the grass and reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder as he kneeled beside her. Carefully, he tugged her away from the body, letting it slip onto the grass. She sobbed, turning into his embrace, clinging to him tightly. With a familiar calm, he rubbed along her back in comfort.

Neither noticed the bird's eye view of Channa's murderer standing on the roof's overhang.

Analyses ran before her eyes as she watched the pair. Words and statistics and commands. Interfering commands. Contradicting commands. John Connor had ordered her to not harm Riley. Her primary mission was to protect John Connor. She was allowed to lie. She was allowed to disobey- anyone but him. But not this him. The future him. There was a difference. Wasn't there?

Cameron stared blatantly at them, eyes focusing in first to confirm identification, then to assess the situation. Riley was there on the ground, the now dead body of her dog displaced mere inches from her. She was sobbing into John's shoulder as he attempted to sooth her. Cameron determined that this was problematic. And as her eyes zeroed in on the hands that were gripping his shirt tightly, she confirmed it: Riley was a threat.

Without hesitation, Cameron strode forward and stepped off the edge of the roof, landing with a heavy thud leaving imprints in the ground. The noise was enough to attract John's attention, but not Riley's. She continued to sob into his shoulder, though his gaze was now focused on the slow and steady approach of Cameron.

He shook his head at her.

She recognized this motion as one that signified either 'disbelief', 'irritation', or a command to 'stop'. Her head tilted to the side as she momentarily searched her data banks for which was most appropriate. After a minor glitch, she chose 'disbelief' and continued forward.

Extracting himself from Riley, who glanced up at him, John got up to his feet. "Cameron, what are you doing?"
Riley's eyes shot towards the fast approaching terminator. Suddenly enraged, she jumped up to her feet and started screaming. "What did you do? What did you do to Channa? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"

She made to lunge at the other girl, but John grabbed her about the shoulders and waist, pulling her back. He knew better than to let her go up against a terminator- especially one that was as unpredictable as Cameron.

"Cameron, go home!" He tried to order her.

Quickly, however, it became apparent that she had no intentions of following that order. "My mission-"

"Mission?" Riley asked incredulously, still struggling against John who was now shaking his head, wide-eyed at Cameron. He mouthed the word 'no'.

"My mission," Cameron said again, reaching behind her for what John knew immediately was a gun. "Is to protect John Connor."

"John..." She stopped struggling in her confusion and glanced up at John. "John Connor? What is she talking about?"

"Nothing," he tried to dismiss, eyes still fixated on the arm behind Cameron's back that had just started rounding to the front.

Oh god, she was going to do it. She was going to shoot Riley. Shoving Riley behind him, he reached for his own gun and pulled it just as Cam did the same.

Riley's eyes widened in shock as brother and sister pointed what she had the sinking suspicion were two very real weapons at each other.

"John Connor, move," Cameron told him, aiming behind him towards his blonde friend.

"No," he declined, holding the gun just slightly shaking at her. It wouldn't kill her he knew, but...

"She is a threat," she informed him. "She must be terminated."

Riley was shaking her head, clinging to John's sweatshirt as she debated whether she was going to see her life flash before her eyes any time soon.

"No, she's a friend!"

"I am your friend. I am your sister. She is not important. I have not seen her in the future."

"Then maybe it's time for the future to change!" John told her, steadying the gun in his hand.

Her head cocked to the side, and she stepped closer, lowering her weapon. Skeptical, though slightly relieved that she was no longer aiming a gun in his face, John debated the wisdom of doing the same. Trust, he decided, was important. He lowered his gun slowly. When Cameron was not but a foot from him she reached out and took him roughly by the shoulder, slamming him into the ground and out of the way.

Knowing she was in serious trouble, Riley tried to back away, but tripped over the body of Channa and fell to the ground. Cameron raised her gun again and-

A shot rang out.

For a moment everyone was still. John's eyes were wide, he was breathing heavily staring at the blood pouring from her head. "Oh god," he muttered. Cameron turned her head to stare at him, as though... taken aback somehow. She lowered her gun once more, letting it fall to the ground at her feet.

A sob escaped Riley as tears poured down her cheek once more. When Cameron's head turned back around, Riley could make out the blood pouring down her face and a glint of what looked to be metal underneath the ripped away skin at her temple. She shook her head slowly, shock taking hold.

John's gaze traveled from the dead dog, to Riley's tear-streaked, wide-eyed face, and finally to the now bloodied Cameron who looked... unfathomable. If he didn't know any better, he'd think maybe she was hurt by what he'd done.

But he did know better. Just like he knew that things would now be different. Both Riley and Cameron ensured it that night.

He shook his head. What the hell were they supposed to do now? John looked down for a moment but then realized that there was no time for that. Riley was going to find out a deadly secret about his sister if he didn’t think of something fast.

“Oh god, Oh god, I just shot my sister!” John turned to Riley and said, “Riley, you’ve got to help me.” “You’ve got to help me and my sister. Do you have any bandages or a first aid kit? Cameron’s bleeding and we have to stop the blood loss NOW! I think she’s been off of her epilepsy medication since she’s been hanging around with the group of bikers.” Riley is still in stunned silence. He can’t be serious. John’s never mention a motorcycle gang before.

“MY SISTER IS GOING TO DIE, right here, NOW in YOUR back yard unless you help me stop the bleeding." "She’s been acting crazy this week and I thought she was going to do something to you so I fired a warning shot but I hit my precious sister RIGHT in the metal plate in her head.”

Cameron covers the wound with her free hand and staggers and falls down backwards and looks upwards. “I hit my head hard,” she said.

John crawls down beside Cameron and quickly elevates her wound by placing her head up on his folded knees. “Help me Riley, I’ll never be able to forget this day if my sister dies tonight. You must have some medical tape or gauze or some fresh linens in your house to help me stop this bleeding.”

“I knew your sister was weird John but I didn’t know she was epileptic,” Riley said. “What was she saying about the future?” “Why do you guys carry guns with you?” she asked. John shook his head.

“Riley, there’s no time for that,” John said. “Get me some bandages for Cameron right now or she is going to be toast right here in your backyard and we won’t be able to put it behind us for as long as we are together,” John said. “Doesn’t my sister’s life mean anything to you?”

“Well if you put it like that..” Riley thought for a moment.

“NOW!,” said John, channeling his mother. Staring at Riley with his teeth bared, “On your feet solder and march right back to me here with something I can use on the double. We’re not going to let my sister die tonight.”

Riley rose up from where she was watching John use his bare hands and the sleeve of his sweatshirt to cover Cameron’s wound. Cameron seemed to be semi-concuss and breathing but her eyes were closed. “What was she going to do next?” thought Riley. “What was John going to do?” she thought. “Well John did just save me from certain doom at the hands of a scary robot,” “and if I bail on him now, I can never get him to trust me,” she thought.

Riley stomped off toward her house with her hands clenched in frustration and her head shaking from the realization that she had nearly been shot herself. “Would John do the same thing for her if she lay dieing on the ground?” she thought as she made her way to the master bathroom medicine cabinet.

As Riley turned toward the house and walked away, John takes the gun out of Cameron’s other hand, ejects the magazine and clears the round from the chamber. He shoves the free magazine in his pocket and places Cameron’s pistol into one of the pockets of her jacket and zips it shut. “What are we going to do with you Cameron?” John mutters to himself.

John pulls out his comb and gently combs Cameron’s hair away from her wound. He had to make sure that she wasn’t bleeding from beneath the hair on her scalp. He didn’t want Cameron’s hair to get all matted with blood or for either of them to go home with bloody clothes. His sweatshirt was a lost cause though. That his shirt was bloody didn’t really matter but if all of Cameron’s clothing was blood stained, someone was going to start asking questions if they were spotted before they got home.

“Riley, bring me some sewing scissors and a small flashlight,” John said. John wanted to make sure that Cameron only had one wound from the gunshot and he wanted to remove the slug if it was still stuck somewhere before Riley got back. “On the double soldier,” John shouted. “You’re not going to leave me and my sister behind.”

After some racket and some sobbing, Riley reappeared from the back door of her parent’s house. “Your sister tore up my foster parent’s house,” she said. “It looks like the whole motorcycle gang went on a rampage in there.”

John’s eyes widened for a moment and then he looked down. “Did you find a flashlight?” “How about those bandages?” he asked focusing on Cameron’s wound.

“Here, here and here,” Riley said giving the flashlight, the bandages and the scissors. “I hope your sister lives.” “Now, once my foster parents get home, I’m going to die,” Riley said.

“Don’t say that,” said John. “If we work together, we can fix this.”

“Fat chance Cat Fancy,” Riley thought to herself. “How are YOU going to fix my dog Channa?” “And what was Cameron talking about?” She said something about being on a mission to protect John Connor.” “Who’s John Connor?” asked Riely.

“Stop asking silly questions and hold the flashlight for me.” “You said the other day that you wanted to be a nurse, well my mom taught me how to make good field dressings.” “If you take a moment to watch maybe you’ll learn something.” “Did you find any large gauze pads back inside your parent’s place?” he asked. “I could really use some of those yarn balls right now,” he thought.

Riley shook her head, “Nope, my naive little foster brother scraped his legs up pretty bad skateboarding on Thursday.” “Mom had them on the list to pick up on our next trip to Thrifty Drug.”

John clenched his teeth but then an idea came to him. He handed the flashlight to Riley and said, “Here, I need you to hold this while I show you how to make a field dressing." "Watch yourself that you don’t get any blood on you.” “Cameron give me your hand.” “Uhh," she said. John took Cameron’s hand and used her palm to apply direct pressure on the wound. “Riley be careful with that light, whatever you do, don’t shine it in her eyes, it might cause her to have another seizure, and believe me none of us want to see that happen again.” “Also be careful you don’t shine it on any of the neighbor’s windows.”

“We have to be quick we can’t get caught tonight.” Now, with his hands free, John slipped off his sweatshirt and proceeded to snip the bloody sleeves off the sweatshirt and trimmed the larger part of the sleeves into two large cotton patches. These he stacked on top of each other and folded the stack in half. To quickly stop the bleeding and so Riley didn’t see too much he slid these absorbent cotton pads under Cameron’s fingers on top of the wound. Then John picked up the gauze and leaving a tail of gauze under the base of Camerons skull, wrapped around her forehead and carefully beneath two of her fingers.

“Be careful of my hand.” “There’s fifty one percent chance that I’ll remain sane tonight,” Cameron added.

“Good,” John said and he proceeded to wrap another layer of gauze behind her head and across the makeshift bandages her forehead. The next two layers, John pulled slightly tighter and Cameron removed her fingers from her wound without being asked. John looked up at Riley quickly but he didn’t note any reaction in the mostly dark back yard, lit by aluminum poles shining on the parallel parked cars lining Riley’s street.

Still wrapping, John went on, “Keep holding the light on her forehead sweets.” “You know that my mom wanted to home school me for her own reasons.” “One of them is that there’s this motorcycle gang that’s been after us because of the money we owe them for Cameron’s epilepsy pills.” “I think she’s been taken one of the wrong pills tonight and that’s why she became a freak and didn’t recognize either one of us.” “Now..” [John sighs]

“Sit up now Cameron,” John asked. “Riley, I need you to point the light at the back side of my sister’s head.” “Don’t forget to keep from shining it on my sister’s eyes.” “I think she’s still struggling with something tonight.” “I’m not really sure where her happy pills are either.”

“You’ve got to tell me about this motorcycle gang John.” “They’ve trashed my house.” “My parents are going to FREAK out,” said Riley.

“Don’t be a freak,” said Cameron.

“Riley, trust me we can fix it, together.” “You have to listen to me though,” said John. “This is going to have to be our secret. but pay attention while I tie this knot.” "The rabbit goes around the tree and back into the hole like this." [John ties the knot.]

Going on, John said, “There’s this Latin American gang, I think they have roots in El Salvadore or something.” “I don’t mean to stereotype anyone but this guy has been giving us trouble.” “He’s been really mean to my sister, my mom, she doesn’t make that much money and she borrowed what she needed from this gang leader she heard about back in our old neighborhood.”

“I think this guy and his buddies tried to force my sister into paying our debts with this gang early and because she was freaking out about it and didn’t know what was up, she lead them hear and you can see what happened.”

“Oh John,” Riley said. “But my dog, she was my only buddy outside of you and she has always been by my side.” “Now she’s dead.” “Are you trying to tell me gang members went after my dog too?”

“I’m really not sure what happened to your dog,” said John. “I didn’t see it all go down, but I heard what had to be at least five trained chop shop guys and the Jaws of Life going on in your garage.” “I know this place where we can get the cutest Chihuahuas.” “We can take your new dog to Taco Bell and I’ll be that your foster parents will let him sleep inside your room.” “Chihuahuas can do tricks you know.”

“Oh I know Cat Fancy,” Riley teased, smiling. “Then it’s settled,” John interjected. “Nooo, not really,” answered Riley. “You have to tell me the name of this guy, this gang leader,” she insisted.

“Do you really want to know? Because you can’t repeat it anywhere,” John answered. “Yes, after getting my house torn up and losing my best friend in the world my dog, I deserve to know who is responsible especially if my boyfriend is the one that knows.” “You are my boyfriend right John?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered with a smile. “Then who is this master of mayhem and wh??” she asked. “His name is Emilio Estevez,” said John.

“You mean the actor from the Mighty Ducks?” “Don’t try to tell me that some famous guy is enough of a loser to be in your lame explain..”

“Emiliooooo!” howled Cameron. “NO, NO,” yelled John, putting his hand over Cameron’s mouth. Emilio Estevez was not only in the Mighty Ducks, he also was in Repo Man, Maximum Overdrive and Men at Work, staring costarring Keith David. “Be quiet Cameron,” John said looking at Cameron hard. [Cameron reacts]

“No Riley, the gang leader Emilio Estevez.” “He’s the leader of the notorious Gulglo-XIII gang,” said John. “Ohhh,” said Riley. “So some other lowlife decided after watching Maximum Overdrive to announce themselves to the world, in their rise to dominate the neighborhood and to control people’s lives, under the name of Emilio Estevez?”

“Emiliooo!” bellowed Cameron. John quickly put his hand over Cameron’s mouth again to quiet the sound. "So help me, if you have another outburst like this again sister," "Am I going to have to put the rest of my sweatshirt in your mouth? Becau..” asked John.

“No,” replied Cameron looking downward.

“I believe you John,” said Riley. “Now let’s get to work,” she said. “What are you going to do about my foster parent’s new Car? And the garage?” asked Riley.