From the Inside Out...

Georgia cowered away from Martin as he approached her, his eyes boring into her with cold calculation. She felt herself dragged upwards and she fought against him with all the strength remaining in her slight frame. However it was no use, his encircling arms held her fast. As he embraced her, she felt him bend her head to the right, baring her the left side of her neck.

A sudden and searing pain wracked Georgia's body, spreading from her neck outwards. She tried to scream, but the sound died in her throat. She felt something warm and wet spill down her shoulder and soak her shirt, still not realizing her exact fate. Blessedly the pain subsided quickly and was replaced with every nerve in her body being gently electrified. As he continued to drink, her grip on reality began to fade, first to a pleasant confusion, then a pall of grey before her eyes. As unconsciousness took her, a distant memory arose of an old television fading out to a single white dot. Such was the last memory of her life.

Georgia next remembered herself drowning on warm liquid gushing down her throat, but she had no need to breathe. She suddenly catapulted into a strange, painful awareness of everything and nothing simultaneously. Blinded but feeling everything: rage, betrayal, violation, fear, confusion and an intense burning starvation that she felt would eat her from the inside out.

Attempting to rise from the couch, she felt her left wrist bound to the wall and began to pull against it despite the searing pain. Within moments Georgia felt herself freed and lunged forward towards a scent that was familiar and yet associated in her deepest psyche with loneliness, loss, and pain. She felt herself collide with that scent and yet felt herself redirected like a pool ball. Stumbling and falling onto another scent with even worse associations. She scratched and fought and bit at the thing until her teeth found their mark and the blood of her first kill begin to course down her throat.

Georgia gorged herself until she felt the consuming hunger subside. Finally sated and unable to retrieve another drop from her prey, she fell back on the couch. She had no need to breathe, but did so out of habit, noting the strangeness as her eyes cleared for the first time in unlife. She looked over at the remains of Josh, lifeless, pale under the smears of blood, and badly mauled. Distantly, disjointedly she knew she should feel something, remorse or regret or sadness... perhaps... but in reality she felt nothing but a sense of triumph and relief, but no emotions were actually tangible to her. They were suddenly something surgically removed that she was observing through a store window or in a museum. Strangely, she was quite comfortable as this realization set in.

Looking up at Martin slowly, she asked simply, "What have you done to me?"

He looked at her in a level fashion, "I have made you more than you were."

Shaking her head, Georgia demanded, "What does that mean? What have you DONE to me?"

Martin seemed confused by the question, "I have made you perfect... immortal, given you a gift that humans have sought for centuries. You will never age, never die."

Thinking for a moment, she reframed the question to hopefully evoke a clearer answer, "What am I?"

Something akin to comprehension crossed his expression, "Now I understand what you are asking. I have made you a creature of the night, the perfect predator, if you will. Though we look human, we are most decidedly not. We stalk and feed off of what we once were, we are the Kindred."

"You mean you have made me a vampire?" shrieked Georgia, echoes of shock reverberating through her memory. "I am not even human anymore? How could you do this to me?"

Again confused by her reaction, Martin tried to explain, "It is a gift Georgia, do you not realize this? You will always be at the height of your mental abilities, which I know you prize beyond all else."

Even though her emotions were now detached, she still felt an echo of compunction, "But I will now be feeding off of humans. How can I bring myself to do that?"

"You already have," said Martin smiling and inclining his head towards Josh's corpse.

Reflections of horror filled Georgia's mind as she realized what she had done. Mentally backing away, she babbled, "But he raped me... he deserved it... I wasn't in my right mind... I didn't know what I was doing..." After a few moments though, she recalled the pleasure she had taken in feeding off of the boy and further protestations died before reaching her lips. However pure pleasure blended with a memory of horror provided the backdrop for the beginning of her Requiem.

Turning Points

Suddenly Georgia heard a door open from another room, followed by nearing footsteps. She put her head up in hope of help or release or anything at this point. Despite all of her years in the foster system, she had never been violated. Some men had made passes at her, but she had been able to brush them off with her usual reserve and defense mechanisms. Now all she could do was sit curled up with her knees against her mouth, sobbing in torrents of silent tears, rocking back and forth.

To her shock, the brown-haired, blue-eyed man from the convenience store in St Louis entered the room. He surveyed the scene before his eyes and he apparently grew enraged. His anger was a living thing stalking the room. Josh came to his senses and cowered where he was sitting on the couch.

Martin turned to Georgia, with scarcely controlled rage and asked, "What happened here?"

She began, speaking slowly while trying to regain her shredded composure, "I was hitchhiking to Columbia and he picked me up, brought me here and raped me. I begged and pleaded for him not to, but he wouldn't listen."

"Is this true?" asked Martin blurred across the room with white rage, appearing suddenly before Josh.

The boy swallowed hard and looked up at the angry man with some emotion more profound than abject fear, hesitatingly he began, "Master, I couldn't help myself..." but then trailed off. Josh seemed to know that there was no appeasement.

Martin raged, "You seem to have misunderstood what I meant when I said 'pure and undefiled'.This will NOT go unpunished." He turned from the young man with a flashing eye and dismissive shrug then turned his attention to Georgia, half denuded and still sobbing.

His demeanor and voice softened as he spoke to her, "Will you allow me to help you now?"

The girl continued to collect the shards of her shattered composure and merely stared at him in disbelief. Mentally tumbling through the events of the last few days, Georgia could not begin to comprehend how she could be here or how this man, Martin Van-something-or-other, could be here too.

Martin tried to appear as honest and gentle as he could, "You do remember me, don't you? Such a strange coincidence that we are in this position, don't you think?" He was consider his best option at this point, keep her as a prisoner and turn her in a few weeks when she turned 18 or try to wash away her pain by turning her now.

Georgia looked up with reddened, tear-swollen eyes and replied slowly & sharply, "Yes I do, but this doesn't seem right somehow..." Though mentally drained, she kept up her physical guard as best she could. Josh, still cowering on the other end of the large sofa, simply watched.

"You are a very perceptive girl," said Martin, still pondering his course of action, "but then again, you always have been."

This struck a discordanct note within Georgia and she suddenly regained a measure of clarity.She looked at the man incredulously, "What are you trying to say?"

He looked squarely into her swollen face and simply stated, "I think you have an idea."

Georgia ran through the implications in her mind, "This is not a coincidence, is it?"

"The fact that you are here is no coincidence, though the circumstances we currently face are different than I had pictured," answered Martin, letting all pretense drop.

"How is it that I came to be here then, and what are your plans for me?" she asked, raising her now raw & still handcuffed wrist.

The pale, dark haired man glanced at Josh as though to will him to stay in place on the couch and spoke, "My dear, the story of how you came to be here is a very long one, but my plans for you remain much as they were, except for a slight alteration in the timeline."

Martin's demeanor had changed, Georgia could see clearly, but it was hard to qualify. The softness was gone, there was no pretense of concern anymore, which she found almost more comforting since those pesky emotions were removed from the equation. However, what little comfort she felt was offset by her captivity and knowing it was done by his hand. She also saw no way to escape.

Despite her left arm being handcuffed to the ring in the wall, Georgia unwillingly began to relax as her last physical reserves waned. Her mind and body, in their sheer exhaustion, . uncurled and she sank into the soft cushions of the couch. Looking at Martin, her voice resigned, she questioned, "How did I come to be here?"

He took a few minutes to compose his answer before beginning coolly, "My dear, you have been a project of mine nearly 13 years."

At this, Georgia shifted slightly from what was either mental discomfort or physical exhaustion, but said nothing. Martin noted it and guessed that the truth lay somewhere in the middle. He continued, “I first saw you when you were most likely 5 years old. Late one night you were sitting on the back step of a house in St. Louis County with a book on your knees, reading quite intelligently aloud to yourself. You had a level of self-composure and obvious intelligence that was quite uncharacteristic of one so young. It was then I chose you to be my greatest work.”

A little of Georgia's fire returned and she snapped, “Why do you speak of me like my feelings don't even count? And while you are taking credit for so much, I'd like to know what exactly you have done for me.”

With detached sarcasm and underlying triumph, Martin replied, “My dear, but for this most recent and regrettable event, I have orchestrated every circumstance in your life to bring you here to this moment and this place. I made sure your mother had a steady supply of money to buy the drugs that killed her at your side when you were 8. I made sure that every stay in a foster home was short so you would change schools as often as possible. I made sure that you would cling to no one but yourself, your own native intelligence. So you see, I have succeeded magnificently.”

“You have used every possible method to make my life a living hell and are happy about it? What kind of monster are you?!” screamed Georgia, sitting bolt upright on the couch now.

“You hit very near the mark, my dear,” he replied calmly.

“Do you murder children? Or do you just torture them?” she cried.

“Oh no,” Martin said, “I shape their lives and then offer them something that very few will ever wish for, completion in their perfection.”

Georgia, still sitting up, with voice still raised, “What kind of bullshit are you talking about?”

“Immortality, just as you are... perfect,” he replied.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she queried again, obviously angry and confused.

At this point, Martin decided that the time had come to complete the first stage of his project.The timeline wasn't ideal, but he knew no other way. He approached the girl and watched her shrink away from him in fear. Trying to reassure her gently, “There really is nothing to be afraid of.”

Georgia looked at him like he was mad, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing that any of a thousand souls wouldn't willingly choose,” he said in reply.

“But you have given me no choice, apparently. How is that right or fair?” she asked incredulously.

Martin moved closer to Georgia and pulled her to her feet. She attempted to fend him off, but his raw power combined with her weakness made that impossible. He placed his arms around her firmly as she struggled and bent her head to one side and buried his fangs in her neck.

Georgia's blood soon began to flow into Martin's mouth and spill down onto her shoulder. At first she fought against him, but her resistance faded quickly as she seemed to resign herself to the sensations she was feeling. Very shortly however, she faded like a delicate summer flower.

Martin eased Georgia to the couch and worked very quickly. He spied Josh's pocketknife lying on the floor and seized it and slashed his left wrist. His blood began to flow rapidly and he put his wrist to her mouth. The first drops apparently had no effect, but moments later, Georgia began to moan and growl. As she took in more of his vital essence, she began to writhe wildly and her eyes suddenly opened. She had a look of intense anger suffused with pain filling her face as something drained away from her. She was fighting the handcuff encircling her left wrist which kept her attached to the ring in the wall. She seemed to be trying to reach Josh, still on the other end of the couch. Callously amused, Martin deftly produced a key and freed Georgia's wrist. She reeled and turned towards him but he turned her back towards her original target and she leapt on Josh with the ferocity of an animal. Her first meal in unlife was a messy affair, leaving his corpse drained and bloody, scratched and lifeless.

A Short Drive to Destiny

**********READERS ARE STRONGLY CAUTIONED THAT THIS INSTALLMENT CONTAINS GRAPHIC AND VIOLENT SEXUAL IMAGERY******************

Georgia watched as Josh put the key into the ignition and started the car, not saying anything. She felt relieved that they would soon be on the highway and she could soon be making her way in a new place. He pulled out of the McDonald's onto US 54 and waited through the first set of stoplights, however at the second set of lights, Josh went straight rather than turning left onto I-70 in the direction clearly indicated by the big green sign.

She felt her throat tighten slightly and her heart began to pound loudly in her chest. "Where are you going? Columbia is that way," she said pointing westward.

Josh's entire demeanor had changed, "I thought we could go and have a little fun." His eyes glinted cruelly as he drove just past a building with a "Mid-Missouri Visitor's Center" sign on it and turned left. He passed the visitor's center and some sort of memorial and went left onto a gravel road and then veered right. The road got narrower and more overgrown the further they went on it. Georgia said nothing as all the toughness she'd learned in the foster homes and on the street drained away.

In the gloom, she could see that they were approaching a dilapidated white house. It looked as though it had been abandoned for some years. However, some well-fed dogs appeared to be on guard in the scraggly front yard. Josh parked the car and Georgia sprung for the door handle when suddenly the door locked when he pressed some button on his side of the car. In her panic, she looked, but was unable to find where to unlock the door. Instead she seized the window handle and started to roll it down frantically, but he was already on her side of the car with handcuffs out. He grabbed her left arm and forced one cuff onto her wrist and locked it down.

Georgia was still frantically rolling the window down while kicking at him. Finally the window was down and she was using her legs to push against him and to propel herself up and out of the car seat all at the same time. He had a tight grip on her left arm with one hand, but was having to defend himself from her flailing feet and legs with his other arm. "Sometimes this job just isn't worth it, despite how much I love Martin," he thought.

Josh continued to hang onto Georgia's arm, but finally lost his grip when she kicked him squarely in the face with the bottom of her boot. She half scrambled/half fell out of the car window and stood up painfully, feeling where she had scraped her ribs on the door. She also felt a great deal of pain in her right shoulder where she'd fallen. Once Georgia got to her feet, she stood for just a moment to get her bearings in the gloom when lightning struck nearby and rain started falling in a wild, rising wind. She turned to the back end of the car and started to walk as quickly as she could down the weedy driveway when she noticed the sound of dogs barking and felt a searing pain in her left calf. The pain made her fall face first into the dirt and she tried to shake the dog off, but it seemed only to sink its teeth in deeper.

Georgia then tried to crawl, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, but there was a pair of legs blocking her path. She looked up only to see Josh's face, dirty and bloodied, with hate in his eyes. "You think escape is going to be THAT easy, little girl?"

He said a sharp word to the dog that had its teeth buried in her leg and she was immediately released from that pain. Josh then bent over and hauled her up to her feet by the armpits like a rag doll, making her wince in even more pain, especially in her right shoulder where she had fallen. He held Georgia tightly from behind, with his back against the car and one leg wrapped around her. Despite her struggling he deftly encircled her right wrist with the other handcuff and locked it tight with seemingly inhuman strength. He then tossed her over his shoulder and started towards the house.

Though the walk was short, Georgia fought, bit and kicked for all she was worth, but Josh was just too strong for her to get away from. He deftly unlocked the front door of the house with her over his shoulder and once inside he tossed her roughly on a couch and sat on her, he freed her right wrist and then attached that end of the handcuff to a wrought-iron ring hanging on the nearby wall. Georgia pulled on the ring and found it solidly attached and she couldn't wrench her wrist out of the tight handcuff either. She sunk into the couch, drew her knees up to her face, wrapped her free arm around them and began to sob in fear and pain.

The sumptuous surroundings in which Georgia now found herself were certainly not betrayed by the shabby exterior of the house. The front room was full of heavy, deeply cushioned furniture in dark burgundy with heavy light-proof draperies to match. The carpet was midnight blue and very plush, Georgia was only vaguely aware of what was occurring beyond her veil of tears. She sensed, rather than felt Josh circling her like a vulture... almost as though he was trying to decide what to do with her, though she was fairly sure she knew his intent. However, she sensed conflict in the air and it seemed to emanate from him.

Josh was indeed conflicted, he was torn between his duty to his master and his desire for this girl. He captured her for his Master, but he wanted her for himself. He couldn't explain what was drew him to her, she wasn't the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but the mix of toughness and sweetness intrigued him. He'd been watching her for months for his Master, her and her ever present books. He knew she didn't think of having boyfriends, or if she did, it was only in the context of her reading. She was friendly with the boys in the shelters and at the jobs he'd seen her work, but she had never shown any attraction to them. She seemed to treat them with the same indifference that she treated all the people in her life, she kept an emotional distance from everyone. Despite his enslavement, he could tell that his Master's plan had worked perfectly on Georgia: she had become like a feral cat, trusting no one and running at the first scent of danger.

Josh continued his internal argument, his master wanted Georgia "pure and undefiled" and he wanted to deflower her. Her tears just made her even more bewitching to him, displaying her vulnerability. Surely the master wouldn't know what he had done if he cleaned her up well afterwards. He had captured several of Martin's other projects, but he never felt anything for them... his reaction to this one made him nervous and edgy.

Georgia continued to surreptitiously catch looks at him while he paced back and forth in front of her. She could see him mentally tossing something back & forth. Sensing this to be a weak point, she found a new reserve of strength.

Raising her chin with a resolve she didn't feel, she steeled herself and spoke, "So what are you going to do with me now?"

Startled by her sudden inquiry, he stopped short and answered honestly, "I'm trying to decide that, actually."

Slightly emboldened, Georgia continued, "What sort of choice do you have? If you let me go, I promise I won't say anything."

"Oh, I'm not letting you go, " said Josh with that dangerous glint returning to his eye. "It is more a matter of whether I use you before I give you to my master or not."

Georgia's resolve flagged, "Please let me go. I just want to get to Columbia." The desperation in her voice was palpable, no matter how she'd just tried to hide it.

With that, his decision was made. Her anguish and fear made her irresistible and he promptly went to her and tried to unfold her. She began sobbing in earnest and balled herself up tighter, knowing what was about to happen. Georgia tried to resist by making herself as inaccessible as she could, all her physical and mental reserves were otherwise drained.

Josh tried to gentle her into relaxing, but his frustration was growing by the moment. He had to have her NOW. Finally he resorted to forcing his hands into the middle of the ball that she was and tried to rip open her jeans, his success was limited however. Georgia's resistance fueled his fierce frustration and he grabbed his pocketknife and began to cut her jeans off, up the outside of the legs. Access to her was still difficult while she was curled up as she was. Her cries of "no! please don't do this!" combined with her sore throated sobs and screaming only made him more determined.

He continued to work on removing her jeans and did finally free his object of the overabundance of denim in which she was encased. The underwear were no obstacle to him... they were gone in just a moment. The next task at hand was to rid himself of his own clothing... now that his prey was denuded from the waist down, access was much less of a problem.

He doffed his pants and underwear in short order and was ready to complete his task. He simply moved in and moved her feet, which were all that was protecting her quim. He rubbed his member along her slit, feeling for a promising opening. He found his prey and sank in as far as he could, felt a small amount of resistance and then pushed into her harder and she screamed at the top of her lungs. He pistoned in and out of her and collapsed off to one side after he had spent himself.

Georgia tried to fight with any resistance she could muster, but there seemed to be no way. He was larger and stronger than she was. Suddenly her jeans and underwear were gone and he was on her, then in her with a pain that made her sure that he had stabbed her with his pocketknife... that was all she remembered for several minutes. When she was sensible again, he was lying next to her on the couch, breathing heavily...

Seemings

Rain was Georgia's favorite weather, especially with dramatic clouds rolling along much faster than it appeared from her earthbound point of view. However, she wasn't used to being out in it and that annoyed her. She figured she could handle being a drowned rat, as long as her precious books were safe, but that was before she resembled one.

As Georgia walked along the shoulder of I-70 westbound, the rain just kept getting heavier and heavier. The water was falling in sheets buffeted by strong wind gusts until it was nearly raining sideways. She only made it about a mile from the mall before giving up and sticking out her thumb...

Walking backwards was a little better than trudging headfirst into the deluge... but she still had a niggling concern about the books in her pack, they had been her only true friends since she was very small, after all. Now, though she couldn't see where she was going and her progress was slowed even farther.

Georgia carried on in this way for perhaps a half mile until she couldn't get any wetter when a fairly new Ford Taurus pulled over just ahead of her on the shoulder. Georgia's legs felt like they were moving through wet concrete as she approached the passenger side door. When she got there, she found the window down about halfway to let in as little rain as possible, but still allowing the driver to get a relatively good glimpse of his potential passenger.

Through her dripping hair and the driving rain, Georgia glimpsed a man, perhaps in his mid-20s, with sandy blonde hair and cool, but friendly, blue eyes. He had a good-natured smile and she had noticed a Missouri Tigers bumper sticker and tiger tail sticking out of the trunk. There was also a sticker in the rear passenger window with the Greek letters Alpha-Gamma-Beta on it. She knew he must be in college and on his way back to school.

Georgia knew intellectually what college was and imagined it as a place of pure learning, where people left each other alone to pursue expanding their educations. She'd also heard some stories, usually told with disdain, about how uppity kids that went to college were and how they were usually rich. She didn't understand how anyone could think books and knowledge were bad things, but those negative comments almost always followed a conversation about whatever Georgia was reading at the time, which was most often at least 3 intellectual levels above those she was with. It was just another thing she didn't understand about people.

Georgia was jolted out of her reverie by a cheerful voice asking brightly, "Where ya' goin'?"

She stumbled momentarily in her reply, "Uh... west... to Columbia."

"Well then, you're in luck... that's exactly where I'm heading!" the driver said smilingly.

Georgia looked at the young man appraisingly, he seemed nice enough, but she was such a bad judge of people that she didn't trust what her eyes told her superficially. However, she didn't have any warning bells gong off either. So she opened the car door and asked, "You're sure you don't mind a sopping wet fugitive in your car, do you?"

He spread towels out on the seat and said, "Nah, I have given my little brother and sister rides home from the pool lots times, the seat always dries out okay. By the way, my name is Josh, what's yours?"

Conflicted, Georgia hesitated a moment and said, "Ellen, Ellen Messen, " as she got into the car and put her pack into the back floorboards.

As she turned from closing the door, she found Josh's hand stuck out for a handshake, "Nice to meet you Ellen Ellen Messen!" She shook his hand and was momentarily discomfited but could see no logical reason as to why.

Josh steered the car carefully into the rain and traffic on the highway and then gunned the engine to get up to speed. Once they were into the flow of traffic, he started playing with the radio and asked, "Is there any kind of music you like?"

"Not really," replied Georgia. "I've never had much chance to become of a fan of anything in particular."

With a kind, but puzzled look Josh inquired, "Why is that? Don't most girls your age live for Top 40 radio?"

"Well, I can't speak for most girls my age since I'm not like most girls my age. As a matter of fact, I don't understand most girls my age," said Georgia darkly and with a matter-of-factness that was beyond her years.

Looking intently at the road, he said, "You must have quite a story Ellen Ellen Messen."

Georgia said nothing more and settled into behind chilly and damp in the stranger's car as they glided along in the pounding rain and gloom. Josh had the windshield wipers going full bore to keep visibility at a maximum and Georgia imagined that they looked like a mother laying down for a nap and a naughty child trying to sneak to the cookie jar who got caught every time in rapid succession. The movement of the wipers and rhythm of the car engine combined with the never-ending pounding of the rain eventually lulled her to sleep.

As Josh drove on, he kept glancing over at his quarry. She had been an easy catch, falling for his facade with little pretense on his part. He glanced over at her sizing up her sleeping frame. She was an innocent, to be sure, but quite peculiar as well. There was an air of her being closed off, guarded and he was sure her name wasn't Ellen. He knew how to spot fake names since his name wasn't Josh either. Her name was really immaterial to him, though. He knew what he wanted and he knew what he would get. Her physical size was small and he knew he could overpower her without much of a fuss, and he so hated fuss.

Georgia only occasionally stirred in her somnambulance as the car sped down I-70. She was exhausted from her lousy night's sleep in the woods and walk headfirst into the blinding rain. She only stirred when she felt the car slowing and asked groggily, "Where are we?"

Josh answered, "Kingdom City, I just need to get some gas since I thought I had enough to get to Columbia but didn't. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"How long was I asleep?" inquired Georgia as they pulled into a brightly lit truck stop with a giant McDonald's and a big gaudy souvenir shop. The rain had slackened but the sky was still very dark, indicating another round in the torrential onslaught was coming in.

"About 90 minutes," he replied. "It usually doesn't take me this long to drive from Mid-Rivers Mall, but that kind of rain makes for slow going." Josh pulled up to a gas pump, ostensibly to fill the gas tank. Georgia glanced over and saw that the tank was only half empty. She wasn't sure how much farther Columbia was, but she didn't think it was that far. She felt a little uneasy, but figured there was a good explanation. The clock in the car read 3:17.

Josh came back to the car and Georgia looked at him, "How much farther is it to Columbia?"

"Only about 20 miles, why?" He answered, puzzled.

Her gaze was intent, words pointed, "But you have a half tank of gas, why did you fill up when we are so close?"

He shrugged it off, "I just don't like to get below a half, besides, I had to pee." Georgia really didn't like his answer, but accepted it at face value since the trip was nearly over and he apparently hadn't done anything untoward up to this point.

Best Laid Plans...

Martin van Rubinden was a very patient creature. He spun his plans far into the future, he certainly had during his entire time in the world, both alive and not. He'd created several progeny, which was rather a misnomer, they would be more accurately called projects. He had all the time in the world anyway, barring any missteps. However over his decades of existence, he had managed to avoid the deadlier faux pas' that could befall his kind.

Because of this, he also had little truck with Kindred Society as a whole. He was not one to be scrutinized or judged. Before his unlife, he was a solitary watchmaker in Providence Rhode Island who refused to take an apprentice. He didn't give up his secrets to anyone. His sire came in the form of a young man who wanted to learn the watchmaking trade... needless to say, Martin learned more from his sire about being undead than his sire ever learned about making watches. Some things remained unchanged in his base habits from life to unlife... he ever wanted to be left in peace to pursue his projects in his own time and in his own way, without any interference. He was Ordo for the learning, but figured he'd learned enough and had put up with their rules and supervision for long enough.

His favorite creation, Elisabet, the little pianist... discovered her whe she was 8 years old, already a prodigy. Groomed and cultivated carefully, as were all of his projects, he embraced her when she was 12 years old. Her blonde locks and green eyes were captivating, and the way her fingers danced over the keyboard created magic... but the Embraced happened at far too young an age and she turned on him, meeting her own final death just a year after her debut into Kindred Society. He had truly treated her as a hothouse flower. Was it too much? He didn't know, but he certainly tried to learn from his mistakes.

His next prodigy was the delicate Leila. She had a beauty that surpassed any he had seen. She was pure and innocent, destined for life as a nun until he put his hand on her fate. One by one he murdered her family and drove her mad and embraced her at the age of 15. Unfortunately, her delicate state of mind made her a poor candidate for life among the kindred and he was forced to destroy her himself. He felt remorse at having to take that step, but it was better that he do it than another. Once again, he learned from the mistakes he'd made.

And so his attempts to create the perfect progeny continued, each ending with the same fate, except for Joanna, his most recent Childe. She was a qualified success as compared to her sisters. She had a good launch into Kindred society and was getting on well in Kansas City. She had established herself as a songbird of sorts and understood the culture well. It seemed that the 5^th time was the charm for Martin.

Georgia, his latest work, was perhaps his greatest. 19 years of time invested in her was nothing to Martin, but it surpassed the time taken for any of the others before her. He would never forget that summer night that he first saw her, mousy blonde hair wisping around her face, brown eyes bright with extreme intelligence and concentration, upturned nose sniffing itchily at the gnats hovering under the porch light where she sat. With a book balanced on her knees, obviously very young, she was reading aloud in a clear childlike voice, not missing a word. He didn't know what she was reading, but it was certainly something beyond her years, though perhaps not more than a few.

She did not know that he was there, of course, at least no consciously, but she looked up-seeming to scan the area in which he was standing. The glance was only momentary and she quickly resumed her book. In Martin's unbeating heart, he was sure Georgia felt him... but perhaps that was just a flight of fancy, even his kind were occasionally prone to such things.

As Georgia grew older, Martin kept close tabs on her... via his minions during the day and personally by night. He attended every move she made from that point on, from her mother's house to foster care situation and back again. The cycle seemed endless, fueled by Liz's myriad attempts at sobriety and inevitable relapses, which he fueled anonymously, of course.

His coup de grace came when Georgia was nearly 8 years old... she was living with her mother once again, this time in a run down flat in South St Louis. It was an October Saturday morning, much like the one on which she was born... fall's splendor faded under the wet & overcast of the previous week. She was watching cartoons with a box of cereal in her lap and her mother on the couch next to her, or so she thought. It was not unlike other mornings Georgia had spent in her mother's "care" until she arose from the couch and shaking it more than she meant to, causing Liz's head to roll back and reveal eyes--open and glassy. Immediately sensing something to be wrong, bile rising in her throat, Georgia quickly regained her compsure as she had on so many occasions during her short life, she systematically felt her mother's head and hands to find them cold. She tried to shake Liz, but she was non-responsive, body limp. Then she tried to look for breathing but saw no chest movement. Last of all, she put her ear to her mother's chest and heard no heartbeat, which had been the one comforting thing her mother had ever done for her, though not as often as would have gratified her childish emotions.

Georgia sighed, and walked calmly to the phone and dialed 911. She'd see it on the phone book and on billboards and heard about it in at least one of her many schools.

The universal operator's voice answered, "911, What is your emergency?"

"My mother is dead," Georgia replied calmly.

"Honey how old are you?" The nasal voice inquired gently.

"Almost 8. Can you please come?"

The voice continued, "Honey, the police are already on their way. I'd like you to stay on the line with me, okay?"

"Yeah, I can," said Georgia flatly.

"So honey, what makes you think your mother is dead?" asked the operator, bemused by the lack of emotion in the child's voice.

The child continued in an almost clinical tone, "She's cold, not breathing and I can't hear her heart. She also didn't answer when I shook her and her eyes are open."

Taken aback by the child's cool vocal demeanor, the operator found it hard to direct her questions, "Is there anyone else there with you?"

"No, it's just me and momma, usually...," Georgia trailed off as the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, but nearing. "Can I go now? I think they are almost here."

The concerned woman was still finding it hard to choose her words in reaction to the child's apparent uncaring manner, "Are you sure you want to do that, honey? Those sirens might not be for your mom."

Georgia answered clearly and soberly, "I'll be okay. This is better than having to clean her up after she's been partying." The sirens continued to grow louder, apparently stopping at the child's house from the cessation of noise and the click on the other end of the line.

Maria, the 911 operator, said a prayer for the nameless child on the other end of the phone, gut wrenching as she realized she hadn't asked the little girl's name.

Blame it on the rain...

Georgia made her way to highway 370 westbound and began walking the shoulder. On the way, she tried to slide down an embankment, got going too fast and scraped up her hands severely on the rough grass, dirt and rocks trying to brake herself. She slowed herself and made it to the bottom in one piece, but her hands were a mass of scratches caked with dirt.

As Georgia walked, the wind picked up in gusts and huge clouds began rolling in, darkening the sky. She looked up and knew the rain wouldn't be far behind. She had no protection from the elements apart from her usual denim jacket. Her heavier clothing was all back at her apartment in downtown St. Louis. Still she trudged on, bending her head into the wind and the soaking onslaught to come.

When the first fat drops of rain began pelting her head and shoulders, she decided it was most likely time to put up her thumb and pray. According to her watch, she'd been walking about an hour and she had just crossed the Missouri River bridge. Dozens of cars when whizzing past her until finally an older beat-up red Ford pick-up truck pulled over ahead of her on the shoulder. She tried to get a look at the driver as she approached the vehicle and it looked like a middle aged woman in her 40s with a 5 or 6 year old girl in the front seat. Georgia was pleased with her first effort at hitching, this looked like a fairly safe bet.

She went up to the passenger door, which she found rolled down and a woman with stringy red hair asked, "Where you goin' honey?"

Georgia replied simply, "Columbia eventually, I hope."

The woman seemed to be looking through her and said, "I ain't going but to St. Peters, the mall actually, but I think Misty and I here can carry you that far."

Georgia sighed gratefully, since every moment in a vehicle put miles between her and the trouble she had been anticipating, "Thank you, ma'am."

The woman looked her up and down again, "You got a name? I figure if I'm helping you, you can give me your name. My name is Suzanne, Suzanne Bishop."

"My name is... Ellen...Messen, " lied Georgia with a moderate measure of hesitation. She figured the cover she'd been using would still be safe 20 miles from the trouble, even in the days of instant commun-ications.

Suzanne looked hard at Georgia yet again, but continued, "OK Ellen, it's good to meet you. I hope you aren't running from too much trouble. How old are you anyway?"

Georgia felt she could answer that mostly honestly, "I'm 17, almost 18, but my parents are dead and I've been on my own since I turned 16. And no, I'm not in trouble, I just have friends in Columbia and they say there is work to be had there."

Shaking her head, Suzanne replied, "It's a shame that families just don't take care of their own anymore. I take care of my Misty here, on account of her mama bein' in jail," indicating her granddaughter.

Pretending interest, Georgia inquired, "What is your daughter in jail for Ms. Bishop?"

"Drugs, child abuse, DUI," answered Suzanne shaking her head again. "I didn't raise her to it, but she got in with the wrong crowd. I blame them. She started staying out nights and doing things she shouldn't..." her voice trailed off and silent tears started to fall. Georgia actually felt bad somewhere in herself, perhaps remembering some actual echo of emotion about her mother.

"I'm sorry Ms Bishop, my mom died of a drug overdose when I was 8," she said soberly.

They both fell silent until they pulled into the Mid-Rivers Mall parking lot after a dismal 10 minute trip through the steadily falling rain, when Suzanne asked Georgia, "So Ellen, what are your plans now?"

"I think I'll walk back down to the highway and keep trying to go West."

"How much money do you have?" asked Suzanne, looking at her hard again, as though she could see through her.

Georgia stumbled over the words in her mind for a moment, "Enough."

Suzanne shot straight back, "I don't know what to believe about you. I am quite sure your name ain't Ellen, but be that as it may, I am going to help you what little I can since I can see you aren't the type to ask for anything."

Looking at the ground, Georgia remained silent and her benefactor continued, "Come on in the mall and I'll get you some lunch."

Georgia nodded her assent and followed Suzanne and her granddaughter into the mall. She had a large plate of teriyaki chicken, which was a blessing since she hadn't eaten since her dumpster dive earlier in the morning. She ate in silence, but noticed that Suzanne seemed to be trying to catch some bit of information falling through a crack somewhere by watching her.

When Georgia finished eating, she stood up and genuinely thanked Suzanne before shouldering her backpack once again. The rain outside continued steady and sullen, subverting the bright fall colors to muted reds and browns.

Suzanne sighed deeply and shook her head as though lost for words and pressed a ten dollar bill into Georgia's hand. Georgia immediately tried to give it back, but Suzanne looked at her sharply, shook her head and walked away into the mall with Misty by the hand. Georgia remained standing in the spot for several moments before slowly moving her feet and body towards the exit. She wished she knew what it was that Suzanne had been looking for so hard, but she got rational again and knew she never would.

Georgia emerged from the food court doors of the mall into the chilly rain, she trudged forward purposefully, knowing that once she was a certain amount of wet, she wouldn't get any wetter. She was honestly more concerned about the books in her backpack than her skin. She was basically waterproof, but her precious books weren't. So, looking like a drowned rat, Georgia wended her way along the busy road around the mall and onto Interstate 70 and began to walk towards Columbia. She had a vague number echoing in her head of 100 miles or some such. She wasn't sure how far she could walk in an hour, let alone a day, so she figured once she was close to completely miserable, she would put her thumb out again.

Running to a New Day?

As the sun rose, Georgia was warmed by its rays. She woke about an hour after the sun peeked over the horizon and was stiff and sore from having slept on the ground. She looked at her watch and saw that it was 6:30 in the morning. She knew she had to get to work finding a place to live, but had no clue where to start. If she went back to the group home they would most likely call the police, which would lead to her arrest. If she went back to her job, she would be arrested since Catholic Charities knew where she worked.

So the first place she went WAS her job. She simply told them that something had come up and she had to leave town. She turned in her uniform, bought a cinnamon roll and mountain dew, and walked away without looking back. So now needed shelter and a job and clothing and food... maybe being arrested wouldn't have been such a bad thing after all.

Georgia's first thought was about Larry Rice and his New Life Evangelistic Center. They had their own TV station and shelter and maybe they could help her. She could check in under a different name and maybe the police wouldn't find her. Despite the certain level of attraction to being arrested, her core being wanted to remain free. So she called Bi-State and got the information she need to take Metrolink and the buses to the shelter on Locust St. It took about an hour and a half to only go a few miles, but she didn't have much food in her system and it was easier to spend a few of her last dollars to get there and get food than to try and walk the 6 miles hungry.

When she got to the shelter, she was greeted warmly and given a cup of coffee and some eggs and toast. Then they asked her what brought her to their doorstep. Georgia called herself Ellen Messen and told them the the partial truth, at least about her childhood. She just conveniently left out the part in which she attached her friend, knowing that violence or any hint of it would get her immediately put out on the street, if not arrested. So she settled into the shelter scene without much ado. They asked her to do chores, cooking or cleaning to help keep it a decent place for the other poor souls residing there.

As previous experience had taught her, Georgia kept safely to herself and her books. She found a branch of the St Louis Public Library right around the corner from the shelter, which kept her in all the books she could want.

With the help of the New Life Evangelistic Shelter, Georgia found a new job at Crepes in the City near the shelter under her assumed name of Ellen Messen. So between the kindness of the people at the shelter, and having a new job, Georgia began to rebuild her life. In her off time, when not helping at the shelter and attending the mandatory church services, she lived at the library absorbing anything that struck her interest. She still had an especially strong affinity for anything that dealt with people and how they worked. Her "book" knowledge grew, but her "gut" knowledge remained much as it ever was, limited by her life experiences.

Georgia remained able to go through the motions that the shelter demanded of her without ever feeling the need to believe in anything that they wanted her to. Her job was going well and she was making plans to get an apartment soon with another girl at the shelter. She was even starting to make friends, such as she could, where she worked. She again started reaching out in hopes of any kind of connection. Georgia hadn't seen Martin since that night she walked away from him near Forest Park and she was relieved by that and mostly put him out of her mind.

As fall and her 18th birthday approached, she was again feeling as stable as she ever had. An okay job that gave her money, people that seemed to care or at least pretended well, things to do, a library to feed her hungry intellect. She was living life as Ellen and seemed to have escaped any legal entanglements regarding the assault of her former friend. So just when Georgia felt like she could breathe and stop looking over her shoulder, she saw a police car in front of the creperie as she was walking to work for her evening shift. Instinctively, she just turned and walked back to her apartment, packed her backpack and started walking to the bus stop.

She was grateful that Bi-State was close by and that she could hop on and just get away. She had been haunted by police cars for the last months, knowing they were looking for her. Maybe Alicia had died and it was now a murder charge, myriad suppositions swirled in her head, every one wilder than the last. So she did the only thing she could think of, which was to run away as fast as any mode of transportation could carry her. As usual, she had no plan... she just ran.

She got on board the Metrolink train once she was off the bus and was heading out to North County, not by any design, but by chance as it was the first train to arrive. As Georgia rode the train northward, the evening shadows lengthened. The commuter train finally disgorged her and a few other passengers at Lambert Airport when it was nearly dark. She blinked as her eyes were accosted by the fluorescent lighting of the airport terminal, scanning the open shops & restaurants, she found a Starbucks and a Pasta House. Knowing that her wallet wasn't exactly well-endowed, she got a sandwich and water from the Starbucks and then walked out of the airport terminal. Her stomach was filled, but her wallet was much lighter than she would have liked.

She found the bus stop and climbed on the first one heading to the outer suburbs of St. Louis. The bus Georgia chose actually went out to the Mills shopping center, she thought she could at least wander around there for an hour or so before having to find a place to sleep for the night. She could also use the facilities and get something to drink. She'd made it out of the city to Hazelwood, which, she thought was at least a little bit away.

She wasn't at the Mills long before it closed, so walked around the entirety of the mall looking for a promising place to sleep. When she was on the south side when she spied a building that looked like a school... even if she couldn't get inside, she could at least find a place to sleep on the grounds. Food might also be a possibility from the dumpster in the morning. Georgia then made the rather arduous trek, certainly much longer than she thought it would be, and she swore it was all uphill both ways. In the back of the school, she found a secluded patch of woods and bedded herself down there as best she could.

The morning dawned bright and relatively warm for a late September day. Georgia momentarily forgot where & why she was here. Then she remembered her calmly running away aimlessly from the fears that the police had found her. So she sat for a minute and tried to contemplate her next move. She only had a few dollars left. Her job at the creperie didn't pay much, which was fine while she was living at the shelter, but had made things a lot tighter financially since moving out to the apartment with Erin. Her first thought was to just take the highway that passed right by her current location and see what thumbing it would bring. However, she would first wait and see what might serve as breakfast from the dumpster at the school below. She had a pretty strong constitution, and if she got there fast enough, it might be cold, but it wouldn't be rancid.

Georgia watched the dumpster area behind the school closely. She had spied it out the previous night and made sure she had a good vantage point to know when there was food to be had. Sure enough, someone in kitchen whites came out with a trash can on wheels a short while later and upended it. She waited a short time until it appeared all the breakfast trash was out and the activity around the dumpster area was minimal before descending and seeing what she could scrounge.

The pickings were a bit slim upon investigation, but not unlivable. She found cold scrambled eggs and discarded toast. She even found some juice boxes with a bit left in them. She figured it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. While she was eating, the thought entered her head that she should head to Columbia, from what she understood, there were jobs there and she might even be able to hide there under yet another name. If she was right, she was in a perfect place to start the process of heading westward led by her instincts and her thumb.