The Lambs: Part 1 (3/10)
by Lamia (AKA so kiss me goodbye) 

Rating: PG-13 (violence, strong language)
Category: S 
Spoilers: Seasons 1-9, Fight the Future 
Keywords: William; Colonization 

Summary: Liam van de Kamp's life changes the day two 
FBI agents kidnap him and his parents.

Author's Note: The Lambs is a three-part story (with prologue).


Chapter 3 

August 9, 2011 
Wamsutter 
Wyoming 

Wamsutter was a skeleton town. Liam decided this when 
they reached its outskirts and Mr. Mulder led him past 
two side streets. 

Finished houses were white boxes arranged in rows. 
Every second house was just timber framing - no workmen 
in sight. Bits of loosened building paper flapped in 
the breeze. Grass heads rustled. 

"Did they forget to finish these houses?" 

Away from Liam's parents (and the woman), Mr. Mulder was 
lighter, jokier. And he was answering Liam's questions. 

It was an opportunity for Liam to find out more about 
his kidnapper; for example, Mr. Mulder was from 
Virginia, somehow worked for the Government, and was an 
expert sunflower seed-eater. Liam had no trouble making 
Mr. Mulder talk. He even seemed happy to ask his own 
questions: about Liam's school, Liam's favorite 
subjects (science, math and astronomy) and the 
different animals on the van de Kamp farm. 

They stuck to safe topics. Liam didn't want to risk Mr. 
Mulder clamming up the way the woman did. His comment 
about the houses in Wamsutter seemed safe enough, yet 
Mr. Mulder didn't answer. The man broke his stride, 
scanning both sides of the street and giving no sign he 
had heard Liam's question. 

"Have you heard your mom and dad complain about the 
price of gas these days? Or how the cost of 
fertilizer's skyrocketed?" 

"I guess." 

"Do you know what most people do for work in this 
town?" 

Liam took in the buildings and empty yards. If people 
didn't work in town, they had to be off working 
somewhere else. 

"Mining and stuff?" 

"That's right. BP expanded their operation here about 
six years ago to meet increasing demand for oil and 
natural gas. More work meant more workers - and a need 
for more housing. That was until the cost of extracting 
the oil rose exponentially and it tipped the 
$100-a-barrel mark, dampening demand." 

"So suddenly they didn't need all these houses because 
they didn't need so many workers?" 

"There's a bit more to it than that but ... pretty 
much. You've got a good mind, kid. There's plenty of 
politicians who couldn't connect the dots as quickly as 
that." 

Liam ignored the compliment. "So they just left the 
houses? Unfinished?" 

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" 

They resumed their walk. Liam still had no idea what 
they were looking for. A motel, he supposed. 

"Where exactly are we going?" It couldn't hurt to ask. 
Mr. Mulder was much friendlier now; he might give a real 
answer. 

"It'll be safer if we stay here tonight. That means we 
need somewhere to sleep. Unless you want to sleep under 
the stars?" 

Liam tried a little bravado. "Could if I had to." 

Staring at a house with more of a garden than any they 
had seen so far, Mr. Mulder replied, "Your mother might 
have something to say about that -" 

Liam looked down the street but saw nothing unusual. 
There was nothing. Mr. Mulder set off again. Without 
checking to see if Liam was keeping up, he raised 
another subject. "You play sport?" 

"I like soccer best but baseball's cool, too." 

"Baseball, huh? Got a favorite team?" 

"The Mariners." 

"Favorite player?" 

"Tris Speaker." Liam was used to having to defend his 
choice. He waited for the inevitable scoff. Mr. Mulder 
whistled low. "Unusual selection." 

"Lots of people didn't like him, but I think he was the 
greatest center fielder ever," said Liam. 

"Do you know why some people might not like him?" 

Liam shrugged. "I think he hated Catholics or 
something." 

"Is that so?" Mr. Mulder said. 

"But I don't see how that can be so bad - being 
Catholic, I mean. Mom says you shouldn't hate anyone 
just because they believe in a different religion - 
even Catholics and Muslims," Liam said. 

Even though he felt his mother's view was the right 
one, it created a moral problem. "But, then, if you 
don't like someone, isn't it wrong to lie and say you 
do? At least that way you know where you stand with a 
person. Besides, what's hating someone got to do with 
baseball?" 

"I guess you're not Catholic then - despite your Irish 
name," Mr. Mulder said. They walked on further, Mr. 
Mulder scanning each house they passed. "Your mom 
sounds like a sensible lady." "Yeah, I've got the best 
mom in the world." 

Mr. Mulder picked up his pace. They had reached solid 
pavement now. The houses were more established here. 
Some had real-looking gardens with high shrubs instead 
of just low wire fences and patches of grass. 

The houses with trees looked older. The trees gave them 
more individuality. And protection - which was what Mr. 
Mulder was looking for. 

Liam soon learned what Mr. Mulder had meant by 
"appropriation" and he had to agree - his parents 
weren't going to be happy. 

The house was set well off the street behind a wall of 
trees. By the time Liam saw it, Mr. Mulder was halfway 
across the road. 

When Liam caught up, Mr. Mulder was rifling through a 
handful of mail. He checked both sides of the letters 
before shoving them in the mailbox. 

"Let's check round the back," he said. 

Liam hesitated. Curtains were pulled across the front 
windows, and the grass in the yard was growing over a 
path which led to the front door. "It doesn't look like 
anyone's home ..." 

"Looks that way, doesn't it," Mr. Mulder said. He put 
his hand out, directing Liam ahead of him. Liam got the 
same uninhabited feeling from the backyard as he did 
from the front. 

Tall trees - probably the tallest in Wamsutter - 
enclosed the property. It was impossible to see next 
door. The lawn was overrun with weeds. 

Liam spun around at the sound of glass breaking. Mr. 
Mulder had just jabbed a glass panel on a door with his 
elbow. 

"What are you doing?" 

Mr. Mulder reached inside; Liam heard a click. 

Like a bucket of icy lake water tipped over his head, 
Liam remembered where he was. He had been kidnapped by 
crazy people, forced into a car and driven a hundred 
miles from home. Now he was aiding a criminal breaking 
into a house. His curiosity stopped him from running to 
find a phone. Truth was, strange as this day was 
turning out, he'd forgotten he was being kidnapped. Mr. 
Mulder's head popped around the door frame. 

"Come in, Liam. It's not safe outside." 

Liam stared at the open door; his voice came out 
squeaky. "Am I going to go to jail?" 

"Only if you have the bad sense to get caught," Mr. 
Mulder said. 

He had left it too late to run. There was little else 
to do than duck under Mr. Mulder's arm. 

A blast of air so hot hit his face he backed out, but 
Mr. Mulder was already swinging the door shut. 

They were in a kitchen and it was baking. 

Nothing was out of place. There were no plates or cups 
on the counter, and no mail or magazines either. There 
was furniture - a kitchen table and chairs, a TV - but 
nothing personal to say who lived here. A refrigerator 
hummed in the corner. 

Liam was unwilling to move beyond the threshold. "What 
if the owners come home?" 

"It's just a guess but I suspect they're on vacation," 
Mr. Mulder said as he took out his cellphone and started 
texting. He paused to look in the refrigerator. 

"See if you can find a cup," he said, pulling out a 
clear plastic bottle. 

Liam couldn't shake the feeling the police were about 
to burst through the door and order him to put his 
hands up. Reluctantly, he opened a cupboard. When he 
found some cups, he put them on the counter. Mr. Mulder 
poured water from the bottle. 

Liam's mouth was dry and the cup was irresistible. He 
reached for it. "What are we going to do now?" 

"I've just sent Scully a message. This is where we're 
going to spend the night." 

Liam took a sip. He had been preparing himself for this 
news, but it still came as a shock. *Why do I feel so 
guilty? It's Mr. Mulder doing this, not me.* 

At Mr. Mulder's suggestion they explored the house. Liam 
followed less from curiosity and more from a lack of 
knowing what else to do. Where Mr. Mulder strolled 
through each room, Liam tiptoed, afraid to make the 
floorboards creak. 

The house wasn't big. Beyond the kitchen and dining 
area, it was just a living room, two bedrooms, and a 
bathroom. Black and white photographs lined the hall, 
and two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were crammed with 
paperbacks. Everything looked neat but worn; the rooms 
were clean and uncluttered. 

With just five strides, Liam walked from the end of the 
hall to the front door. Mr. Mulder stopped by him to 
examine it. He turned to a large wooden sideboard, and 
putting his back to it, pushed it hard against the 
door. 

"That'll stop anyone getting in," he said. 

*Or anyone getting out.* 

In one of the bedrooms, Mr. Mulder sneaked a look 
through a curtain and then told Liam to stay where he 
was. He disappeared for seconds - Liam heard the door 
shut, so he knew the man had gone outside. When he came 
back he was smiling. 

They returned to the kitchen. Liam couldn't bring 
himself to sit on a chair. He stood next to the kitchen 
table fiddling his thumbs while Mr. Mulder positioned 
himself near a window. 

As the minutes ticked by Mr. Mulder's smile began to 
droop. It was gone by the time he started pacing. He 
was at the door in an instant when they heard the soft 
purr of an engine. 

The woman must have brought their vehicle up the drive. 

Liam heard faint pops as car doors shut. Mr. Mulder 
stood at the entrance (shielding the broken panel) as 
Liam's mother bustled past him. She swept Liam up in a 
hug. 

"Are you okay, Lee?" 

"I'm fine, Mom." 

The woman stepped inside but didn't smile back. She 
surveyed the house with a raised eyebrow. 

"Just whose house is this?" Mr. van de Kamp scowled when 
he took in the cups on the counter. His face went 
harder at the glass at Mr. Mulder's feet. The cleanup 
wasn't as thorough as it should have been. 

"I don't know. Probably Terrence Smith's since his name 
was on all the mail I found." Mr. Mulder didn't sound 
disturbed by guilt. "Let me preempt your next 
questions. 

"Yes, I have, with impunity, broken into Mr. Smith's 
house. Yes, this *is* where we will be spending the 
night. And yes, breaking in was necessary to ensure 
your family sleeps safely tonight. And a bonus yes ... 
there's cable!" 

Liam's father was getting better at containing his 
surprise. "Okay." His voice was flat. 

*I bet there's a lot more he wants to say.* 

The van de Kamp family was shuffled into the living 
room area where Mr. Mulder told them to stay seated. As 
they passed through the hallway, Liam's father noticed 
the sideboard pushed against the front door. He didn't 
say anything, but Liam knew he'd check it out as soon 
as he was able. 

The woman talked with Mr. Mulder and then left. A 
metallic screech was followed by the familiar revving 
of an engine. Liam guessed she had driven the car into 
a garage on the property. 

She reappeared in the doorway, announcing she was about 
to make something for dinner and did mac and cheese 
sound alright? 

No one voiced any objections. 

"Would you like some help, Dr. Scully?" 

Liam's father shot his wife a look. 

She shrugged. "More flies with honey." 

Appearing not to notice their exchange, the woman shook 
her head. "That won't be necessary." 

Mr. Mulder remained in the living room, and the silence 
that had plagued the car ride earlier threatened to 
develop again. Liam's mother sat balanced on the edge 
of the couch. 

The forced silence was odd because Liam had had no 
trouble talking to Mr. Mulder before. Liam had never 
been in a situation where he was forced to be a 
peacemaker between adults. The idea of another strained 
hour didn't thrill him. 

Spying the TV remote, he jumped up. "Who's going to win 
the game tonight, Mr. Mulder?" 

He had the grownups' attention. 

"My money's on the Astros," Mr. Mulder said with the 
hint of a smile. 

"Against the Redbirds? With Josh Abdul hitting the way 
he is this season? No way." 

"Abdul can hit the ball alright, but let's watch him 
face off against Jimenez." Mulder's smile disappeared. 
"That boy's from out of this world." 

"Another one, Mulder?" 

The woman stood in the doorway. Mr. Mulder nodded and 
her face fell. 

Looking down on Liam, she said, "The Cardinals don't 
have a chance -" 

"What would you know?" Liam said. 

Still in her heels and black suit (despite the heat), 
she was like no one he'd ever encountered. The way she 
looked at him and spoke to him - as though she was 
assuming a familiarity between them that did not exist 
- annoyed him. 

For a kidnapper, he liked Mr. Mulder, but the woman? 
Tingles ran down his spine just thinking about her. 

Her eyes were downcast when she spoke not to Liam, but 
to Mr. Mulder. "I think you should tell them." 

Liam's mother tensed and his father reached for her 
hand. 

"Are you sure, Scully? I mean is now the right -" 

"There was never going to be a right time, Mulder. I 
think we've always known that ... deep down." She spun 
on her heels, returning to the kitchen. Whatever Mr. 
Mulder had to say she didn't need to hear it. 

Mr. Mulder cleared his throat. He looked at the ceiling, 
then he looked at the floor, then he looked at the 
ceiling again. 

"In a little over a year, extraterrestrial beings, with 
complicit human military personnel, are set to begin a 
large-scale invasion of the planet for a purpose that 
has not fully been explained to me yet." 

The wave of his hands forestalled Liam's dad. 

"The aliens, using human and alien DNA, are producing 
an army of supersoldiers. They look human - they once 
*were* human but they no longer are. Not in their 
sympathies. They can not be killed by any normal means. 
They are, essentially, indestructible. Certain people 
possess a genetic predisposition to -" 

The laughter was so loud Mr. Mulder was forced to stop. 
Liam's dad was doubled over, his face going red as he 
started to wheeze. Yet it sounded hollow, and Liam 
wondered if his dad was doing it for effect. 

"All this" - Mr. van de Kamp swept his arm - "because of 
ET? We're committing a felony, breaking into some poor 
man's house, you've abducted my son, my wife, me, all 
because you think little green men are invading our 
planet?" 

Mr. Mulder didn't drop his gaze. Liam's dad's last gasps 
petered out. Neither Liam nor his mother joined the 
conversation. 

"Yes." 

Liam's parents shared a look. 

"As I was telling you, certain people with a particular 
genetic makeup are targeted for assimilation. Our own 
government has been detailing genetic info on every 
single American who's ever had an inoculation since 
1947. Their intentions may have been to sabotage our 
invaders' plans. 

"Unfortunately, it appears our government has greatly 
overestimated its ability to rule the galactic sandbox. 
When I talked about genocide and lists, Mr. van de Kamp, 
I wasn't trying to scare you - I was trying to recruit 
you." 

"Recruit me?" There was no laughing now. 

"You're having trouble believing this, aren't you? It 
took me eight years to convince Scully - that's a 
luxury you don't have. I wish you did." 

"So my name is on a list? An assimilation list?" Liam's 
dad drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. 

"If my name was on a list" - he patted his wife's hand 
- "and they were coming for me today, which is what I 
think you are implying?" 

Mr. Mulder dipped his head in confirmation. 

"Then right about now, I guess I'd be undergoing their 
... assimilation procedure? And because you've implied 
their actions are stealthy for the time being, I'm 
guessing they are trying to avoid detection or exposure 
to the general public?" 

Mr. Mulder looked impressed. "That's about it." 

"Presuming you hadn't turned up in the proverbial nick 
of time, what would have happened to my family?" 

"Most of the assimilated go home, and while their 
families often sense something isn't right, there's 
very little they can do. Replicants can function 
marginally in their hosts' original role. But it 
doesn't pay to confront them - their loyalties are no 
longer human. Their instincts appear to be to kill on 
any detection. Your wife and son would have been in 
danger. If not today, then certainly when their 
suspicions outgrew their natural inclination to trust 
you." 

"Mr. Mulder, where was that smoke coming from? If they 
were aiming to avoid notice, why set fire to my house?" 

A black and white photograph of machinery on the wall 
appeared to distract Mr. Mulder. 

"I can't be too sure" - he turned back - "but I suspect 
whoever was sent to collect you didn't react too well 
to finding you gone. And that, Mr. van de Kamp, is 
worrying, because until now I'd always assumed the 
replicants were emotionless. Setting fire to your house 
seems to me to be an extremely emotional response." 

"Could you be wrong?" 

"I wish I was." 

"You do a lot of wishing, Mr. Mulder." 

"Oh, believe me, I'm very careful about what I wish 
for," he said. "It's possible one of your neighbors saw 
too much, it could all be coincidence, or maybe you'd 
like to think an accomplice of mine blew up your house 
to make our story more plausible." 

"There's that, certainly," Liam's dad said. 

An image jumped into Liam's head: a battered pickup 
reversing down the drive. "Dad," he said. "Stan!" 

Mr. Mulder looked to Liam's dad for an explanation. 

"Our neighbor. He dropped Liam off at lunchtime." 
Liam's dad's sounded troubled. 

"You saw him leave?" 

Mr. van de Kamp shook his head. 

"Then there's no point panicking." 

The woman arrived with the rattle of cutlery. She set 
knives and forks on a coffee table in front of Liam's 
parents. If she had been listening in on Mr. Mulder's 
explanation, she made no mention of it. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know how it's going to taste. Only 
the packet stuff in their cupboard looked usable. I had 
to make it with milk powder and the water here has an 
acrid taste." 

She headed out again, returning with two plates, which 
she set on the table next to the cutlery. Her actions 
earned a smile from Liam's mother, and Liam again 
wondered what they'd said to each other in the desert. 

"This looks lovely. What do you say to Dr. Scully, 
Liam?" 

His scowl was automatic. "Thank you." 

The doctor prickled. She was like a porcupine being 
needled. Not that he'd ever poked one. That would be 
cruel. 

His mother frowned at him and he knew he was going to 
get a talk later about his lack of manners. *I don't 
care. I don't poke animals - or tease or hit them - 
because they don't pull guns on me or upset my 
parents.* 

Liam knew something bad had happened at their house 
today. But until he heard otherwise, he refused to 
believe anything bad had happened to Sal or Blue. The 
house could burn down, but none of the animals were 
house pets and none of them would have been near the 
building if it was on fire. Wherever they - and Stan - 
were, he hoped they were okay. 

He shoveled a forkful of macaroni into his mouth and 
chewed. A different sort of pit in his stomach opened 
and he scrambled to his feet. 

His mother gaped in alarm. "What is it?" 

"Jerry!" 

She looked at his father in confusion. 

"The tadpole he caught today." There had been no time 
to introduce his mother to the baby frog yet. 

His father shook his head. "Where did you have him 
last, Liam?" 

"I put him down by the car when we stopped. I know 
where he is - I can find him!" 

Racing to the door, he ran full tilt into the woman, 
who was balancing three more plates. Somehow she kept 
them upright. 

"What's the problem?" 

His mother explained about the tadpole. 

The woman didn't move from the doorway when Liam pushed 
around her. "I can't let you go, Liam, sweetie. It's 
not safe out there." 

"Don't call me sweetie." 

Her voice went frosty. "You are not going out there, 
Liam. I am very sorry about your tadpole, but he'll 
just have to take his chances." 

Anger rose in his chest. "You think he's dead - or as 
good as. Well, he's not. But if Jerry *does* die, it'll 
all be your fault." 

The plates in her arms wobbled and clattered. "You 
called your tadpole Jerry?" 

"It's better than your stupid name." 

His mother gasped. "Liam, that will do." 

Dr. Scully closed the door and pulled a chair in front 
of it. As signals went, it was about as loud as bells 
and barriers at a train crossing. 

Whatever his parents thought of Mr. Mulder's story (and 
while he liked the man, Liam wasn't convinced by it and 
knew his parents wouldn't be either), they gave nothing 
away; the strange couple were not letting their guard 
down yet either. 

The rest of dinner was wordless affair. Liam blamed the 
doctor. She sucked the warmth and conversation out of 
the room. He ate no more than four mouthfuls and spent 
the next ten minutes pushing food around on his plate. 

Although it was still light the doctor assessed the 
house's two bedrooms and explained the sleeping 
arrangements. The van de Kamps got the room with the 
double bed with a mattress pulled from the other room 
to make a bed for Liam on the floor. She and Mr. Mulder 
would take turns sitting in the room to make sure the 
family didn't try to escape. 

His parents didn't put up any argument; Liam wondered 
if they *were* plotting their escape. No one turned on 
the TV. After dinner Mr. Mulder had answered more of his 
parent's questions. If they were trying to trip him up, 
they weren't getting very far. He had an answer for 
most things - even the really personal ones. 

He told them about his stint with the FBI, how his job 
had been to investigate peculiar cases all around the 
country and how Dr. Scully had been assigned to help him 
nearly twenty years ago. He admitted his nickname had 
once been "Spooky" because of his paranormal interests. 
He told them he was not married and his parents and 
only sister were dead. He joked he'd gone into private 
consultation after his sterling federal career because 
he had a moral objection to the Government's pension 
plan. 

Dr. Scully didn't add much to the conversation despite 
his mother's attempts to draw her out. Liam wanted to 
tell his mother it was a waste of time. The doctor did 
say she was now a pediatrician after tiring of forensic 
pathology several years ago. 

Liam found that revelation hard to resist. "Yuck. Did 
you cut dead people up?" 

That was the point when his mother decided they might 
as well go to bed, even though daylight wasn't done 
filtering through the house's flimsy curtains. 

Stripped to his underwear, Liam went through his 
nighttime ritual to please his mother. 

He felt strange slipping under some stranger's sheets, 
but the mattress was comfortable and his eyes soon felt 
heavy. They had been here for two hours at least and 
the police were yet to show up. Even his parents moved 
about more easily. He supposed they had other things to 
worry about. If breaking into a house was this easy, 
perhaps he should consider a career as a criminal. 

He yawned, surprised at how tired he was. 

-o0o- 

Liam had no way of telling how long he'd been out; the 
room was black. A door shut and angry whispering woke 
him. 

He rubbed his eyes. An interrogation was happening on 
the other side of the wall. 

"Where in hell have you been, Scully?" 

"You know, Mulder. You have to know. Don't make me say 
it." Anguish filled her voice. 

Bedsprings squeaked as one of Liam's parents rolled 
over; Liam missed Mr. Mulder's reply. The heat was going 
out of the conversation, and the speakers were moving 
away. Whatever they were saying was muffled until Mr. 
Mulder let out an exclamation. 

"Oh my God, Scully. Your neck ..." 

Liam's mother (he could tell it was her by the 
lightness of her step) rolled out of bed and dashed to 
the door. It was unlocked. Curious, Liam padded after 
her to the living room. 

A lamp in the corner cast the only light in the room. 
Mr. Mulder held his hand under it. The hand was red. Dr. 
Scully stood with an arm stretched behind her neck. Her 
eyes went wide when they fell on Liam and his mother. 

"What's going on?" Mrs. van de Kamp's attempts at 
kindness earlier might have been a ploy to get the 
couple talking but her concern now was genuine. 

"Please," Dr. Scully said, wincing. "Go back to bed." 

Liam's mother ignored the request. 

"What's wrong?" She went to the doctor and gasped when 
she pushed long strands of hair off the doctor's 
shoulders. "How did this happen?" 

Dr. Scully paid her no attention. She touched Mr. Mulder 
on the arm. 

"I had to," she said. "Otherwise they would have found 
us." 

Liam edged closer, angling to see what was wrong with 
the doctor. "Mom?" 

"Liam, go see if there are any Band Aids in the 
bathroom. Dr. Scully has cut herself." 

Lines of blood crisscrossed her neck. 

Mr. Mulder took the doctor's free hand. "Scully?" 

"They were coming, Mulder. They were headed straight 
along my path - I have no doubt. We always suspected - 
I couldn't risk ... I had to do it quickly. It was my 
only chance to slip around them." 

Mr. Mulder understood what she was saying. "Your neck's 
raw, Scully. Like something's been raked over it. What 
did you use?" 

From around her neck she pulled a chain. Liam made out 
a gold shape hanging on it: a crucifix. "God found it 
for me." She started laughing. "I scratched at my skin 
- God found it and I threw it away. As far away as I 
god-damned could. It was smaller than a pin head." 

Mr. Mulder cringed and she clenched his hand. 

"I don't think they followed me. I doubled all the way 
back to an RV park. The fact they're not here is a good 
sign, isn't it? Isn't it?" 

"Liam?" His mother looked at him to hurry him along. 
She was still holding aside Dr. Scully's hair and 
examining the wound. 

"Did you go somewhere, Dr. Scully?" she asked, leading 
the woman to the sofa. Dr. Scully didn't fight. 

A cabinet in the bathroom was well stocked. Liam flung 
aside bottles to get to a first aid kit stuffed behind 
a stack of soap. He was back in less than a minute. 
Enough time for the atmosphere of the room to be turned 
on its head. 

Not for the first time this day the scene before him 
failed to make any sense. 

His mother held Dr. Scully in her arms while Mr. Mulder 
kept watch through a gap between the curtain and the 
window frame. 

"They'd be here by now, Scully." In spite of his words, 
his hand remained on the curtain and he looked planted 
to the spot. 

Over and over, the doctor rocked, repeating herself. 
"He saved your life he saved your life he saved your 
life ..." 

Liam's gaze drifted to the coffee table in front of 
her; his heart began to pound. There in a bloodied, 
plastic cup, safe and oblivious, swam Jerry.