Training.

The boy didn't mind the pain that came with the punishment, it was the shame of failing in his assigned orders. Obedience to orders was all. There were no excuses for less than one-hundred percent performance and he had missed two moving targets on the firing range. The fact that he had just finished traversing a hundred miles of broken terrain on foot in less than twelve hours prior to the firing exercise was not to be taken into account. The caning was over in one minute, the welts and cuts on his back and buttocks were nothing at all to the boy, little more than a ceremony.

The humiliation of failure was everything.

Chapter One Origins.

Abel #73 is born. This was the last bit of normalcy in his eleven years of life. His 'mother' never saw him, she collected the other half of her substantial fee and then disappeared forever as instructed. At first glance the baby appeared as other babies do, pink and wrinkled, wailing about it's entry into a cold bright place it didn't like. A closer examination (or dissection) would have revealed that this child was something altogether different from the standard model. The child was a prototype.

Genetic Enhancement and Amplification (GEA). The Manhattan Project was an entry in a grade school science fair by comparison. The technique was immensely complicated, the advent of the supercomputer had made the theory workable, the seventy-two failures were just a learning process. The sometimes horrific results were analyzed, mistakes corrected, number seventy-three was fully viable and a complete success.

The child would have superior everything. This being a military project, strength, agility, reaction time and acute senses were what had been aimed for. His superior intelligence was just a bonus. At the age of four he would have the strength of two average adult males. He would never know or miss a mother's love and comfort, a father's hand to hold. He would know discipline, training and hardship. He was to be the ultimate warrior, and so he was.

By the age of ten the boy had already been field tested twice. The first time a certain middle eastern thorn in the national side had his skull bashed in while asleep in his most secure bunker. The second time involved placing shaped explosive charges on the hull of the pride of the Chinese Navy.

From a short distance the boy appeared as other young males. He had regular, even somewhat handsome features. Close cropped black hair molded to his skull, startling blue eyes that a hawk would envy for their resolving power, white even teeth that could sever your hand. Move in close, remove the loose clothing and things changed. Abel's bones were denser, more resilient, immensely strong. His muscles, normally smooth and unapparent in a boy his age, were as well defined as an anatomy textbook drawing. Every sinew and fiber of his compact body seemed to ripple just under his tanned and abnormally tough skin. There were no martial arts experts on the planet who could if they tried lay a finger on Abel. Simple dynamic testing said he was as strong as ten adult men, his reaction times were beyond explanation.

The GEA Project had been a closely held secret through two divergent administrations. The third President to gain knowledge of the project was somewhat of a moral straight-arrow, cunning like many politicians, and a bit of a simpleton when it came to matters of defense. He was outraged that a child had been subjected to the experimentation and abuse that Abel #73 had been. The new President's outrage didn't extend to public disclosure of the GEA Project, he did however shut it down. Now what to do with the prototype?

The Oval Office The President was in conference with the Chairman of the JCS, Director CIA, and his National Security Advisor. JCS was making one last plea for sanity.

"Mister President, you are throwing away the fruits of years of research and billions of tax dollars. That boy represents the solution to just about every defense and intelligence problem we'll ever have to face!"

The President regarded the highly decorated officer as if he were some sort of naughty child, he had no love for the military, nor they for him.

"The whole GEA Project is an abomination, not to mention the criminal misuse and abuse of the boy's constitutional and human rights. Everyone involved with the project ought to be prosecuted in a court of law."

The General pressed, on perhaps logic might work.

"And you're proposing to simply place him in a foster home with an average sort of family? It'll be like boarding the Terminator with the Brady Bunch! The boy simply has no point of reference for a situation like that!"

"You've stressed that he above all else, follows orders. Then order him to adapt and do no harm to the family he's placed with." This President was not too deep of a thinker, he relied more on political instinct.

"He will do his best Mister President, but the potential for some sort of disaster is tremendous."

The President was undeterred. "We'll find someone in CIA or FBI with a track record of caring for foster children, they can be briefed to the extent needed about the boy's background and capabilities."

The CIA Director had been silent up till now, she expressed one caveat. "The boy's abilities shouldn't simply be forgotten about, we might have need of them one day."

The President said nothing in reply, his frown at the woman was his answer. It was a certainty that CIA would not be forgetting anything.

------------------------------------ Site Four, Colorado Abel was being briefed about the termination of the project and the plans for his future. As was usual his face betrayed not the slightest trace of emotion. The officer doing the briefing had been Abel's 'God' for the last eight years but showed scarcely more emotion than the boy did.

"The project has been terminated for political reasons, there is no fault on your part."

The boy had been granted permission to speak freely, something almost never permitted.

"I've always tried my best sir, I've failed many times."

"Your performance has been exemplary, above expectations. Everyone involved in this project is outraged at the stupidity involved in the decision to cancel it, don't ever think for a moment that you have failed in any way. You're the best soldier to ever walk on this planet, never forget that."

Abel was silent for a moment, he didn't quite know how to handle a compliment, much less a very large compliment. "Yes sir," was his measured and only reply.

"You are going to be placed with a foster family of some sort, they're still looking over the list of candidates." The officer stood before continuing. "The following orders are to be followed without fail: One, you will do no harm to the people you are placed with. Two, you will protect them with your life if needed. Three, you will strive at all times to adapt to the new situation and lifestyle and to obey your foster parents at all times. This will be the hardest order to carry out, but you will adapt and obey. No one but myself can countermand these orders. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The boy knew nothing but orders, there was no thought of questioning them, even less than no thought of ever disobeying them.

"Until a family is selected you will continue with normal training and conditioning. Dismissed."

The boy snapped to attention from his parade rest stance, then turned and exited in the crisp military manner that was all he had ever known. The officer spent a long time looking out of the office window at the towering snow capped mountains that surrounded the remote site. Eventually he left for his private quarters and got passing out drunk. Abel spent the afternoon doing an easy twenty-five mile run in the mountains and trying to come to grips with his shattered world. If you attempted to detect any concern on the boy's face you would have failed, but the concern was there.

---------------------------------------- Family The list of prospective families was fairly short from the very beginning, it had quickly narrowed to just the one choice. FBI Special Agent John Grimes met with the 'spook' from CIA in the FBI's San Francisco field office. After the obligatory pleasantries the spook (call me Fred) broached the subject of his visit to the FBI.

"You have from time to time taken in foster children, a total of four altogether?"

Grimes was taken somewhat aback at the question. "Well, yes. For short periods of time. One girl stayed with us for three months, that was the longest. What's this all about ?"

"Before I can answer that, I need you to read and sign this." The spook placed a form on the agent's desk, it was a non-disclosure agreement, the penalties it listed for violation of the agreement were more than severe. Grimes studied the form for a moment and then looked up at the other man. "You have my complete attention," he said as he signed the form, "now what the hell is this all about?"

The spook told him. Everything.

Grimes thought he was in some sort of bad science fiction film. The spook wasn't smiling.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Grimes asked softly.

"Very much so. The boy needs a decent home, the President wants him to have some sort of normal life. You can say "go to hell" if you want, no record of this meeting will exist."

"You make him sound like some sort of robot or something." Grimes wasn't sure of what to do or which way to jump.

"Abel was to be the ultimate warrior, he is already." The spook wasn't pulling his punches.

Grimes thought of his family first and foremost. "I have three kids, a wife."

The spook nodded his head, "We know. The boy obeys orders above all else, it's been instilled into his makeup since his earliest days. He's been ordered to never harm your family, to protect them, to die for them if needed. He may make mistakes, all he's ever known is training, discipline and obedience to orders."

"And he's eleven years old?" Grimes asked again, for the third time.

"Yes."

"How strong?" Grimes had heard but distrusted his senses at this point.

"He could rip off your head and toss it into next week. He could also be the ultimate bodyguard for your family."

Grimes shook his head for a moment. "How could the government or anyone for that matter treat a child like that, like some sort of experimental piece of hardware?"

The spook just shook his head. "I don't know, I feel pretty much the way you do. I wasn't part of the project, I'm just the messenger boy here." If the CIA held classes in lying then Fred probably got an A+.

"I'll have to talk with my wife about this first. What can I tell her about the boy?"

"Tell her as much as you think she needs to know, use your own discretion."

"And my kids?"

The spook just raised his eyebrows for a moment. "Just tell them he's a very unusual boy who's been through a long tough time, I suppose."

Grimes came to a decision. "All right. I'll talk it over with her tonight. Call me here in the morning and I'll let you know what we decide."

"Fair enough," replied the spook as he rose to leave. He picked up the non-disclosure form on the agent's desk and pointed at it.

Grimes got the message. Spill the beans and go to jail.

On the drive home from work that evening Agent Grimes got honked at several times at stop lights, it seems he had a lot on his mind. He pulled into the driveway of the upscale two-story home in Marin and just sat there for a few moments thinking about whether or not he should be exposing his family to the unknown quantity that was Abel. He had a lot to lose, people at work often referred to him as "Ward Cleaver" because of his picture perfect family and home.

A sizeable inheritance from his grandfather had made possible a much nicer home and more creature comforts than his pay from the Bureau would normally allow. After taxes his grand dad had left behind six-million dollars, most of it going to his one grandson. His wife had the luxury of being able to devote full time to raising good kids instead of working to raise cold cash.

With a sigh of resignation the agent got out of the car and went in to share his incredible story with his wife June (another reason they called him Ward Cleaver). He broached the subject with her as the two of them were putting the kitchen straight after dinner, an evening ritual that let them talk in private.

"A guy from the government visited me today at work, about us taking in a very special foster child," he began.

"A guy from the government?" June knew about "guys from the government."

"Yeah, CIA." That got her complete attention.

"What is the CIA doing in the child welfare business?"

"This boy, his name is Abel, has been a government project his entire life, Grimes explained, "he's the result of a genetic engineering project to come up with a superior soldier. The project was evidently a roaring success but the President got wind of what they were doing and now they need a home for the boy."

"The poor child! Of course we can take him in!" June's maternal instincts had just kicked in, perhaps prematurely.

"There's more," Grimes continued, "he's physically far superior, incredibly strong. He's been trained on a diet of total discipline and obedience, subjected to physical training and hardship that would kill a normal adult."

"My God." June was beginning to see why her husband seemed so concerned. "How strong is he, could he hurt one of the children?"

"The spook said he was a strong as ten men, but he's also been conditioned his whole life to follow orders to the letter. His final orders from the project will be never to harm any of us, to protect us and to adapt to his new way of living."

June was silent for a moment. "What happened to his parents?"

"He never had any, unless you count the woman paid to gestate him and give birth."

"How did they come to approach us to take him in?"

"We've taken in some foster kids before, I work for the government and have a security clearance, we have a nice home. I guess we made the top of the list."

"What if things don't work out, what will happen to the boy?" June asked.

"I don't know, maybe some sort of institutional thing, I really just don't know."

"Then we must do our best to see that things do work out." She had made her decision, the boy would live with them. In truth the woman had no real idea about just who or what she was inviting into her home.

At nine-oh-five the next morning, Agent Grimes got a call from the spook.

"Good morning Agent Grimes, did you speak with your wife about our discussion?"

"Yes. We've decided to go ahead with it." Grimes knew to talk around the subject on an unsecured phone.

"Good, I thought you might. You'll be traveling to Colorado tomorrow, we'll square things with your Agent in Charge. A car will pick you up at your home tomorrow morning at seven AM, you should be home with your guest by tomorrow evening."

Grimes was surprised at the speed events were taking.

"I see you've made plans in advance."

"We did a lot of research on you and your family, we felt pretty sure you would go ahead with things."

"I have one question," Grimes asked, "if things go sour who do I call?"

"Me. I'll provide you with a twenty-four hour number, I'll be the only one answering the phone."

"Fair enough. I hope I don't have to call you."

He also prayed that he wouldn't have to call him.

That evening at dinner, Agent Grimes explained to his children about their new foster-brother-to-be. The Grimes children, Deborah thirteen, Samuel (call him Sam!) ten, and Mary who was just four and was a total sweetheart, all looked at one another with wary expressions. Sometimes foster kids were 'problem' kids.

Deborah asked the first question.

"Just what kind of project was he part of, Dad?"

Grimes had rehearsed his answer, "A classified military project, that's all you need to know and all I can tell you. Don't go blabbing it to the known universe either, as you are prone to do. This is important, no bullshit!" Deborah reddened a little at her father's unusual use of even mild profanity, but she held her tongue (for once). Sam had more mundane questions about the rooming arrangements.

"Will I have to share my room with him?"

"I think he will be more at ease in the guest room for the time being, if the two of you hit it off we can put bunk beds in your room if you both want."

"How long will he be staying?" Sam continued.

"I'm not too sure, if things work out maybe permanently." This caused wide eyes among the three Grimes siblings but no comments or protests were forthcoming. They weren't selfish kids but they still had their own reservations about the whole arrangement.

At seven on the dot the next morning Grimes left with a rather noncommunicative 'suit' who drove him to a part of SFO normally utilized by business jets and non-scheduled charters. They passed through the normal airport security with a speed that indicated long strings were being pulled by heavy players. The blue and white Gulf Stream II had just the one passenger, John Grimes. About two hours later the aircraft touched down in Colorado Springs. A waiting Air Force Blackhawk helicopter flew the agent for forty-five minutes to the northwest before descending into a mountain valley. They landed at a small and extremely isolated collection of buildings that at first sight appeared to be a fishing and hunting lodge. No fishing or hunting had ever occurred there. Most of the 'lodge' was underground. An Army Colonel in starched combat fatigues was waiting on the small landing pad as Grimes stepped out of the dark gray helicopter. The agent's senses and body were trying to adjust to the bright sunlight and cool thin air.

"Welcome to Site 4 Agent Grimes." The name tag on the officer's chest read "Hartz." Hands were shook but with no enthusiasm on the part of the officer.

"Thanks," Grimes then glanced around and asked, "what's the altitude here anyway?"

"About sixty-eight hundred feet. Cold as a son of a bitch at night."

"You're the commanding officer here?" Grimes asked.

"No, he left two days ago, I'm just staying on here to shut things down and hand over the boy to you. The general in charge of this part of the project, well.. he had some trouble accepting the end of a project that he had devoted a good part of his career to. So do I."

Grimes nodded in some understanding of the situation, he looked around as if seeking what he had came for. The Colonel sensed what he was searching for. "Follow me, let's talk about Abel for a while before I take you to meet him."

Grimes walked along with the officer without speaking. They entered the main 'lodge' where the agent was somehow not too surprised at the series of stairs they had to descend to get to the main operations level. The Colonel led him into an office and motioned him to sit down, the two regarded one another for a moment before the officer spoke. "Abel's taking his last morning conditioning run , he should be back any minute now."

"I can't imagine running anywhere in these mountains, how far does he usually go, five miles or so?" Grimes was about to be jerked rudely into the reality of the situation.

"He left this morning a little after five, he will do about fifty miles by the time he's back, mostly up and down miles. He may even work up a small sweat if he pushes it some." The Colonel smiled just a little at the expression on the agent's face.

"You're not serious?" Grimes had to ask but knew the answer already.

"Yes, Agent Grimes, I am. You need to adapt to a new way of thinking when it comes to Abel. He's not a normal boy, not even a normal human being, not by light years. Abel is something else altogether. Get used to it."

The phone buzzed softly on the Colonel's desk, he answered and then hung up with only a "very well."

"Abel's back, he's finishing taking a shower right now, he should be done by the time we walk over there. Come along with me."

Grimes followed the officer back up to the lodge's main level and then out to what appeared to be one of several small cabins for visiting fisherman or hunters. They entered to find Abel standing by his spartan bed at strict attention, neatly dressed in polished black boots, sharply creased and bloused fatigue pants, and a spotless white T-shirt. The agent's eyes were drawn to the finely etched muscles that revealed themselves on the boy's bare arms and neck, the young male seemed a bit shorter than he had expected. The spartan room held only a thin hard looking cot, a desk with a small lamp and a computer terminal. There was an open clothes rack with precisely hung olive drab garments, a footlocker at the end of the cot. You could perform surgery on any of the surfaces in the small room without fear of contamination or infection. Even the ceiling looked polished. Colonel Hartz made the rather terse introductions.

"Abel, this is FBI Special Agent Grimes. He's to be your foster father."

The boy stood as a statue, no expression, no anything. Grimes extended his hand to the boy.

"Hello Abel, nice to finally meet you."

Abel took the man's hand firmly, he tried to use the proper amount of pressure. Agent Grimes thought he was shaking hands with a warm piece of steel. The boy's hand was calloused and rough, there was little if any 'give' to the grip offered him. Abel then offered the regulation sort of greeting. "Pleased to meet you, sir." His voice seemed a bit rough..no, almost like a soft growl. It was a side effect of the genetic engineering.

Colonel Hartz asked about the boy's morning run.

"Are those bighorn still up in the pass?"

"No sir, they've moved down slope toward the valley about five clicks"

The officer just nodded and then turned toward Grimes. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted for a little while before you leave for California. See you in an hour or so."

After the officer had left Grimes stood a bit awkwardly, the boy still stiffly at attention, eyes ahead, as cool as snow. Finally the man found his voice, "Abel, why don't you be at ease and relax? Have a seat on your bunk and we'll talk for a while." The boy snapped to parade rest and said as always, "Yes sir." He then sat down on the edge of the taut and perfectly made bunk, he seemed now to be sitting at attention.

Grimes pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down to face the boy. "So tell me about yourself, son. What's on your mind?" The boy seemed at a loss, the only indication of emotion was a slight movement of his eyes toward the man. Finally the boy said something, "Sir, I have no training or experience living with civilians. I'm concerned I'll make some sort of misjudgment. I might harm someone." Grimes nodded his head, this was a start at least. "I understand that. You will be in a completely alien environment doing things you have no real knowledge of. I expect you to make mistakes along the way, that's part of learning. Me and my family will be there to help you all we can, I suspect we'll make mistakes too, you'll have to be patient with us."

The boy seemed to loosen just a tiny bit. "I will do my best to follow my orders and adapt, sir."

The agent nodded at the boy's answer. "My wife and myself do have some worries about your rather incredible strength, you'll be with our children, they're just average kids. To you they will probably seem soft and weak, undisciplined even."

"I have orders to do no harm to your family, to protect them. I will obey those orders sir." Abel was looking into the man's eyes as he said this quietly, there was no room to doubt his sincerity.

"I understand that son," Grimes responded, " it's just that they're the only family I have, a father tends to worry a lot." Abel didn't respond, the boy seemed to lack a reply. Grimes stood up, Abel leapt up and snapped to attention, "Son, why don't we go outside for a time? You can show me around this place some."

"Yes sir." The boy moved swiftly to the door to hold it open for the man while standing as ever at attention. As they stepped outside Grimes spoke again to the boy. "Son, I'm not a military officer or even an enlisted man, I'm a civilian. You don't have to stand at attention and be on parade all of the time, try to relax a little, ease up some."

"Yes, sir."

The boy could no more ease up than he could flap his arms and fly.

There was a small lake a few hundred yards from the compound, Grimes suggested they head in that direction. The air still had a bite in it even as noon approached, the man found himself wishing for a warmer jacket, he noticed that the boy seemed perfectly comfortable in just his T-shirt. Both said nothing until they reached the shore of the clear mountain lake. Grimes reached down and picked up a golf ball sized rock and tossed it as far out into the water as he could.

"My arm's not as good as it used to be, I pitched some on my college baseball team." On an impulse the man picked up another rock a bit larger than the last and handed it to the boy. "Let's see if you're big league material, give it your best throw." Abel took the rock and tested it's weight, his throw was a blur. Grimes lost sight of the stone, finally catching sight of the small plume of water it raised on the far side of the quarter mile diameter lake. "Jesus Mary and Joseph," Grimes whispered as he looked down at the impassive boy beside him. Anyone behind home plate when that came across would be entirely dead.

Grimes and the boy stood by the lake for a while, the man trying to get some sort of dialogue going, Abel seemingly unable to speak freely and openly as he was asked to do. The boy had been trained to follow orders, expressing feelings if there were any had not been a part of his upbringing. Grimes had so far not detected any threat or animosity from the boy. But just the same he felt a little like he was having a conversation with a very polite and very deadly carnivore of some sort. In truth that was exactly what he was doing.

They walked back in the general direction of Abel's quarters, there really wasn't much to point out or to explain. Grimes thought to ask the boy if he had any civilian clothing, any personal possessions he wanted to take with him.

"I have been issued some civilian clothing suitable for travel, sir."

"Any stuff you'd like to take along, you know, personal things?" Grimes asked.

"I have a hairbrush and toothbrush that are mine, sir."

"That's all?"

"Yes sir."

Grimes thought of his own son's room, there was so much junk in it that crossing from one side to the other was a perilous expedition. In a lifetime this boy had accumulated a toothbrush and a hairbrush.

When the man and boy reached Abel's small quarters once more, Grimes suggested that perhaps it was time to change into his civilian clothing. Much to the boy's confusion, Grimes held the door for him and motioned him inside. "Thank you sir." It seemed evident that someone holding a door for the boy was a novel experience for him. Inside the bare room Abel went to his footlocker at the end of the cot. He produced a new pair of Levi's, a light blue shirt, gray pullover sweater. A belt, white briefs and undershirt. Socks and a new pair of Reboks completed the wardrobe.

The boy quickly removed his boots and socks, Agent Grimes was in true shock as the boy stripped off all of his clothing to reveal a body that while covered with tan skin, had an almost alien or reptilian quality. The boy wasn't bulky and over muscled in the manner of body builders but every major or minor muscle was well developed and evident, every sinew outlined and well defined.

Grimes found his voice after the boy had pulled on the new briefs, "Son, hold still for a minute, let me look at you a bit." Abel came to attention as usual, no trace of modesty or shyness in front of the man. Grimes felt the boy's chest and upper arms, there seemed to be about as much give to the boy's flesh as a piece of oak. The man then noticed some fine scars on Abel's back that extended down to his briefs and then on down the back of his legs.

"These scars Abel, what are they from?"

"Punishment, sir." The boy may as well have been discussing the time of day for all the emotion shown.

"You were beaten?" Grimes was starting to seethe at the thought of what this boy had been through.

"Just when I failed to accomplish assigned orders, sir." Abel conveyed the impression that this was something perfectly normal and expected.

Grimes stood back from the boy a moment. "Alright son, go on and get dressed." The man was a little old fashioned when it came to child discipline, when his own offspring had seriously strayed from the correct path they had on occasion had their backsides warmed a bit to make a point. The scars on the boy's body seemed to Grimes to be nothing but senseless cruelty.

As Abel was finishing dressing Colonel Hartz made his appearance. Grimes took him by the elbow and guided him back outside where they could talk away from the boy.

"That boy is head to toe scars on his back and legs, from punishment he says!"

"You disapprove of course," Hartz seemed unfazed by the accusation Grimes had made.

"Disapprove! Goddammit man, that's a boy in there, not some sort of galley slave!" Grimes was close to punching out this cold fish.

"This project was tasked by the government with producing the finest fighting man possible and it did, ahead of schedule." Hartz calmly explained. "Now that same government says forget about it, turn Abel into some sort of civilized young citizen. It won't work you know, that boy can kill as easily as you can breathe and with less emotion. He is and will always be the ultimate warrior. Those scars that so upset your fragile sensibilities were just wrist slaps to the boy, his real punishment was the shame and disgrace in failing in his orders."

Grimes fought to control his mouth and fists, in the end he just turned and went back into the cabin.

Abel stood as always at attention, he had his toothbrush and hairbrush in his left hand at his side which seemed a bit pathetic to the man.

"Come on son, let's get you out of this place." The agent's anger was apparent to the boy but his only response was the usual "Yes, sir."

Colonel Hartz stood waiting as the two left the cabin (with Abel holding the door). The boy marched crisply up to the officer and snapped a textbook salute that was returned just as smartly.

"Goodbye Abel," Hartz said nothing else except a quiet "good luck." There was no handshake, no smile between either of them. The boy stepped back and saluted again, when it was returned he did an about face and fell in beside Grimes to walk to the waiting helicopter. The agent had nothing more to say to Hartz, he did speak quietly to Abel. "Let's go home son."

"Yes sir."

And so they did.

Home The helicopter flight to Colorado Springs was too noisy for much conversation. The agent tried to calm his anger, Abel simply sat passively looking out the side window, helicopters were his usual mode of transportation. When the sleek Gulf Stream was in the air there was time for talk. Abel still clutched his only possessions in his left hand, the toothbrush and hairbrush.

Grimes took an airsick bag from the seatback in front of him. "Let's put those in this for now son," he indicated the items in Abel's left hand. The boy hesitated for just an instant, then handed the two items over to the man. Grimes had the impression that the boy was giving him all of his worldly possessions, which indeed he was. The agent handed the bag back to the boy who put it at his side on the seat.

"Have you done much flying?" Grimes sought to start some sort of conversation between them.

"Yes sir."

Grimes should have learned by now what sort of answer he would get.

"What sort of aircraft?"

Abel began reciting the aircraft he had flown in to the best of his recollection. "C-130, C-141, C-17, C-5, KC-135, K-10, B1-B, F-16, F-22D, U-9B(what the hell was a U-9?) UH-1, ..." Grimes stopped him at this point, the boy had flown before, apparently in everything that could fly.

"Sorry I asked." Grimes smiled, trying to make a bit of humor, but still impressed.

"Sir?" Humor would always be a very iffy thing with Abel.

Grimes took off his suit jacket to be more comfortable, he noticed the boy's glance at the pistol he carried under his left shoulder while on duty.

"I guess you've been made familiar with guns and various weapons?"

"Yes sir." A monumental understatement.

Here we go again Grimes thought. Abel surprised him by his next observation. "Permission to speak, sir?"

"Of course," replied the slightly exasperated Grimes, "you don't need permission to talk to me."

"You carry the Sig-Sauer .40 caliber, sir?"

"Yes Abel, you can tell that?"

"The butt and clip end are rather unique. May I ask another question sir?"

Grimes thought this was a breakthrough. "Of course son, you can always ask me a question."

"Do you feel comfortable with the limited stopping power of the .40 caliber?"

The agent was again taken somewhat aback. "The .40 round is pretty powerful, son"

Abel said nothing for a moment, then.. "I prefer the .454 Casull round in a modified and ported Desert Eagle, sir."

The man had read about both the caliber (huge) and the handgun (more than huge). "Jesus son, that's a cannon!"

The boy said nothing, it was very hard to read anything the boy was thinking. Grimes did have the impression that the boy had little regard for handguns designed for mere mortals.

"Would you care to look at my puny Sig-Sauer?" Grimes tried to keep the conversation going.

"No sir, handling loaded firearms in a pressurized aircraft is not recommended."

"Oh." Grimes felt like a schoolchild wearing a dunce cap, of course the boy was right. Change the subject.

"We've decided to put you in our guest room for the time being rather than have you bunk in with Sam," explained the man.

"Sam, sir?"

"He's my son, he's maybe a year younger than yourself. We also have two daughters, there's Deborah who's thirteen and little Mary who's just turned four.

Abel remained impassive at this information, the idea of being with other young people, female young people at that, was too alien of a concept for the boy to fully comprehend. After a time the boy spoke again. "Sir, if I may, another question?"

"Yes, of course son," Grimes patiently agreed, "and please stop asking for permission to talk."

"I apologize sir. Will I be allowed to exercise to remain fit?"

"Well certainly son, we have some exercise equipment, there are running trails in the hills behind our home. You can get all of the exercise you want. We have a pool to swim in too."

"Thank you sir." The boy remained as passive as ever, Grimes thought for a moment that he might have detected just the faintest trace of relief.

There was a telephone built into the seat arm between Grimes and the boy, the man remembered that their hasty departure had put them ahead of schedule. As he picked up the handset and dialed he told the boy that he needed to call his wife, they should be there in plenty of time for dinner.

"Hi hon, we're on our way back. I'm calling from the plane."

"Already?" June Grimes was already altering plans.

"Yeah, we left sooner than I thought we would, I'll explain it all to you when we get there. Is dinner a go?"

"Sure, I'll put things on hold till you show up." The woman paused for a moment. "How's Abel? What's he like?"

Grimes glanced at the boy next to him. "He's.. Well he's something special. I think things will work out but it's going to take some time." If the boy was listening to the conversation he gave no indication, the fact that his acute hearing could pick up both sides of the conversation was at this point unknown to Grimes.

"Well, tell him I said hi. Tell him he's welcome here."

"Will do. See you when we show up." Grimes replaced the handset into it's cradle and spoke to the boy.

"Dinner will be waiting for us, June said to say hi to you."

"Yes sir, I heard."

Grimes just stared at the boy for a moment. "You could hear what she was saying?"

"Yes sir."

"Then your hearing has been enhanced too?"

"Yes sir."

"Christ!"

"Sir?"

"Never mind." Grimes leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get a grip on this new reality. The boy took the agent's actions as an opportunity for rest, within thirty seconds Abel was in a light sleep (but then his sleep was always light).

The drive from the airport to the Grime's home in Marin was a new world for Abel. In an existence that had for the most part been only remote military bases and wilderness, the chaos of freeway traffic, urban skyscrapers, and above all countless people (all civilians) came very close to overloading the boy's acute senses. The agent and the boy sat together in the back seat of the sedan as the 'suit' did the driving. Grimes would occasionally point out some landmark, Abel would look at it intently saying nothing, displaying nothing. The sun was close to setting as they pulled up in front of the white, two story "Cleaver" home. Grimes and the boy got out and stood for a moment while the car with the 'suit' disappeared down the street. The man put his hand lightly on Abel's shoulder and bade him a quiet welcome.

"This is your home son, be it ever so humble. Let's go in and meet the tribe, I'm hungry."

Of course the boy said nothing.

Sam had spotted the pair from his upstairs bedroom window and broadcast the news to the entire house. "They're here!!" Even Grimes' ears could pick that up. By the time the man and boy reached the front door the family was assembled in the entryway, the front door already open. Mrs. Grimes was first to greet the boy after a quick kiss for her husband.

"Welcome home, Abel. It's nice to finally meet you." The woman extended her hand to the boy while his eyes darted about taking in as much as possible in the short time.

"Thank you Ma'am," Abel snapped to attention while shaking the woman's hand, "pleased to meet you." June was startled by the feel of the boy's hand and the sound his of voice, both so hard and rough. She found her own voice and introduced her offspring. "This is Deborah," the girl moved forward and took the boy's hand lightly, her shock at his touch not as well concealed, "she's thirteen and the oldest." Abel repeated his greeting, the girl giggled a little at being called "Ma'am."

Sam introduced himself, darting forward with his hand extended, "Hi, I'm Sam." Sam was called "Sir" for the first time in his life and then looked down at his own hand to check for possible damage. Little Mary couldn't be enticed to come out from behind her mother and Abel didn't know what to say to her so he just remained silent. A bit of an awkward pause ensued as the family looked over their new boarder. Abel's clothing covered his unusual physique, save for his corded neck, but he still seemed to exude some sort of harnessed power and strength. A wolf among the flock.

Grimes broke the spell. "Come on son, I'll show you your room and then we can have some dinner." As the man led Abel past his family his wife asked where the boy's luggage or bags were. Grimes held up the barf bag containing their guest's worldly possessions. "Right here." Sam and Deborah started to follow their dad and the boy up the stairs, they were intercepted by the woman who suggested they give Abel a little space for a few minutes.

On their way down the hall to the guest bedroom Grimes pointed out each of the children's room's, Abel's only detectable reaction was a tiny arch of one eyebrow as he looked into Sam's chaotic lair. The guest room was a pleasant gender neutral sort of place, it had it's own bath, a large double bed, the usual furnishings. "This is yours for the time being," explained Grimes, "we'll make it more suitable for a boy when we have the time." Abel stood motionless save for his eyes, after a life of spartan surroundings the richness of the room didn't quite register with him, he did however voice a small request.

"May I use the latrine, sir?" Grimes chuckled a bit at the term. "Of course son, go right ahead. This is your room and your house, you can use anything in it."

"Thank you, sir."

The man waited just outside the open bathroom door as the boy peed, he noted that he must have been taught some of the ways of civilized society, he had lifted the seat and washed his hands afterwards. He left the towel precisely centered and even on the rod. "Why don't you take off that sweater and be more comfortable, son?" The boy complied silently, folding the garment quickly as if to ready it for any snap inspection, at the man's direction he placed it on the dresser (neatly).

"Have a seat on the bed for a just a minute," Grimes motioned, "let's talk."

"Yes sir." Abel sat stiffly on the edge of the soft bed as instructed while the man spoke to him. "This has been an enormous change for you, you're like a fish out of water. For what it's worth I think you've been handling things really well today."

"Thank you, sir." No expression, none.

Grimes thought for a moment, then gave voice to an idea he had. "Son, I'm going to give you one of the few direct orders that I ever will, here it is. I want you to freely ask questions when you are in doubt, when there is something you feel you need to know. I want you to speak up when there is something bothering you or if there's something you need or want to say. That's a direct order, understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Just a hint of some relief, perhaps imagined by the man, perhaps not.

"Fine. Let's go eat, you must be hungry."

"Yes, sir."

Midway down the hall a small breakthrough occurred.

"Sir?"

"Yes, son."

"Did I frighten Mary when we met, sir?"

Grimes grinned from ear to ear, a human question! "No son, she's very shy at first around strangers, when she gets to know you she probably won't leave you alone."

The boy said no more for the moment, displayed no emotion. Grimes did feel that under that tough skin somewhere Abel had at least a small bit of remaining humanity. Perhaps.

In the dining room just off of the kitchen the Grimes family was champing at the bit to eat, at least the kids were. June Grimes indicated for Abel to sit in the chair next to Mary and opposite Sam and Deborah. The boy remained standing until the two adults had sat down before taking his seat. There was a small problem to be solved before the meal could begin, an unopened jar of stuffed olives next to the man's plate, June and everyone else had failed to unscrew the stubborn lid.

"Dear, see if you can get the darn lid off of that jar, I think they welded it on."

A manly task at which Grimes failed miserably. On an impulse he handed the jar to Abel. "Son ,see if you can get it off."

"Yes sir." Abel took the jar and looked at it's label for a moment, then with no more effort than if he were turning the page of a book he quickly unscrewed the lid and handed both items back to the man.

"Whoa!" Sam exclaimed, eye's on full open. So were the rest of the family's eyes save for the man's, he already knew some of what the boy was capable of.

"Thank you Abel," Grimes smiled, "now let's eat."

The meal was a traditional meat, potatoes and vegetables sort of affair. Grimes did the honors of slicing the roast, each diner passing their plate for a portion. The man noticed that Abel didn't begin eating until he did, more evidence that the boy's training wasn't entirely about how to shoot or kill. There was some small talk and banter from all save the boy who now seemed intent on ingesting the maximum amount of food in the shortest possible time. June Grimes noticed his apparent appetite (well, everyone did). "Abel, you must have missed your lunch today, what with leaving early and all."

"Yes Ma'am." After a swallow.

"And breakfast?" June was trying to coax some conversation out of the boy.

"No breakfast, Ma'am. I left early on a conditioning run."

"You poor dear, then you've had nothing all day long!" A mother's instincts kicked in.

"I did Ma'am, I caught a rabbit about halfway through the run."

This caused chewing to cease for a moment around the table, finally June continued her interrogation.

"But how... You stopped and built a fire and all of that?"

"No Ma'am."

John Grimes asked the next question. "Son, how did you get the rabbit, were you carrying a rifle or something?"

"No sir, I was unarmed. I just ran it down. May I have some more of the roast beef, sir?"

While Grimes was piling more of the main dish on the boy's plate June regrettably asked another question.

"But Abel, how did you prepare the rabbit? I mean...."

"I broke it's neck to kill it, then pulled off the skin and removed the entrails, Ma'am."

Deborah by now had completely lost her appetite. "Oh gross, that's disgusting!" The girl looked a bit pale. Sam just sat open mouthed, Mary didn't quite grasp the conversation. June just wouldn't leave well enough alone. "But you said you didn't make a fire, how did....?" Her voice trailed off a bit when she realized the truth of the matter, he had eaten the rabbit raw. There had been nothing in the boy's words or expression to indicate even a tiny lie.

Things were quiet for a moment around the table, John Grimes smiled at the boy's calm and even recitation of the simple recipe for rabbit and at his own family's introduction to the sharp end of the stick. The man then changed the subject of the conversation, much to his wife and daughter's relief.

"Abel's going to need some clothes real quick, all he has is what he's wearing."

June snapped out of her mental shock. "We'll go to the mall tomorrow and start on his wardrobe."

"I don't think Abel's quite ready for the mall yet, take some measurements and have Deb go with you," suggested Grimes, "she's the family expert on the mall and what's 'in' for young twerps."

"Cool, Dad!" Deborah almost regained her appetite at the thought of a major mall expedition. Her father imposed some small amount of restraint on his daughter.

"Don't outfit him to look like those semi-male alien creatures on your bedroom wall!"

"Yes, Daddy." Semi-snotty smile.

Abel just continued to eat.

After the meal the three Grimes children made quick exits, Abel remained in the kitchen with the adults, unsure of what he should be doing.

Grimes suggested, "Son, myself and June always take care of the cleanup, why don't you go into the family room and watch some TV with the kids?" In truth the man wanted to talk to his wife alone about Abel. As the boy left the room the man noticed that he moved as lightly and as quietly as a cat. Grimes turned to his wife. "I was watching when Abel was changing into the civilian clothes they gave him. You'll need to prepare yourself for the first time you might see him undressed."

"Why, John? What's wrong with him?" June asked with some concern.

"There's nothing really wrong with him, he's just put together like some sort of comic book superhero, his muscles stand out everywhere, he looks like... I don't know, almost alien somehow. He's incredibly strong."

"Good Lord."

"There's more," Grimes continued, "his back and legs are a mass of fine scars left over from punishment, from when he failed at something assigned to him."

"Oh no," the woman's eyes narrowed with anger, "how could they do that to him?"

"I don't know, I came close to punching that Colonel Hartz in the face after I saw the boy's back like that, that's why we left early. I wanted him away from there as fast as possible and before I did something I'd regret."

Eventually the subject of school came up.

"He should be with young people his own age," June argued.

"Maybe we should wait till the next term, after summer."

"Let's put him in now, if he has a lot of trouble with it we can pull him out and wait till school starts again."

John had learned from long experience when to give it up, Abel would attend school next week. Abel would surely survive but would the school?

The boy's entry into the family room was as silent as smoke, the three Grimes children were intent on some sort of science fiction movie that appeared to be much older than they were. They failed to notice his presence at the rear of the room. Sam and Deborah were also discussing the new arrival to the household.

"Well I think he's seriously weird, spooky." Deborah observed.

"He had to be putting us on about catching a rabbit like that," Sam added, "his neck looked weird too. Freaky."

"He ate everything but the plates and silverware," Deborah listed other faults, "he called me "Ma'am" and you "Sir," I mean really!"

Abel stood silent as ever, if his feelings were hurt or if he even had any feelings it was impossible to tell.

Little Mary piped up and added her two cents worth. "I like him, you two are mean!" For this opposing view the other two children fell upon her and administered a severe tickling. Deborah looked up from the melee on the couch and was startled by the sight of Abel standing back in the shadows. It was immediately apparent to the girl that the boy must have heard everything they had said about him.

"What are you doing?" The girl demanded.

"Mister Grimes asked me to go to the family room, Ma'am." Star Trek's Mr. Spock was a standup comedian by comparison to the boy's flat and emotionless demeanor. A voice like a tiger's purr did nothing to inspire calm. Even so Deborah's upbringing caused her to feel some immediate guilt and some shame for what the boy must have heard.

"Well come sit on the couch with us, we don't bite."

"Yes Ma'am."

"And stop calling me "Ma'am," my name's Deborah, call me Deb."

"I apologize Deborah," and after a moment, "Deb." The boy moved around to the end of the couch, the girl pointed to the empty space on the other end next to Mary. Abel took the seat indicated, sitting stiffly, not leaning back as the others did. Mary was losing some of her initial shyness, she tugged the strange boy's sleeve and spoke to him in the simple way that very small children do. "I'm four, how old are you?" Abel looked down at the little girl as if regarding some sort of alien life form, "I'm eleven, Mary."

"You ate a lot at dinner." Four-year old's tend to say what they think.

"Yes Mary, I was hungry." Somehow or other the small girl and the most unusual boy were making the beginnings of emotional contact.

"You said you caught a rabbit. I saw a rabbit in the garden yesterday," Mary explained, " it was brown." Deborah and Sam were silent as they ignored the awful movie and watched the exchange between their small sibling and the new boy. Mary took Abel's iron hand and pulled it toward her. "Your hand feels funny." Abel said nothing, he didn't know what to say. The small girl's soft pink hands examined the boy's, a hand that could crush the little girl to a bloody pulp if he wanted it to. Not that he ever would or could, that would be a violation of orders.

Little more was said for a while, the small girl continued holding Abel's hand as they all watched the fifties era movie. Abel didn't know what to make of the movie, his television experience was limited to training videos, he was never before given access to commercial television. Save for just the one time.

When Abel was four years old he was allowed to watch The Wizard of Oz. It was a small experiment on the part of the psychologists and an intended reward for his good progress. Until this one time everything that the small boy had seen on the video displays was real, related to training. Of course he also believed that Dorothy and Toto and the rest were very real and that the film was about real events. For days after viewing the classic film the little boy would ask constant questions about Dorothy and Toto, it totally disrupted his training regimen and only repeated and severe punishment finally ended the questions. Even now his memory told him that it had all been very real.

In the kitchen the man and woman were finished with their evening ritual. Grimes made a suggestion to his wife. "Let's take Abel upstairs, you can take those measurements for his clothes and have a look at him for yourself.

"I won't embarrass the boy, will I?"

"I don't think he has any modesty about his body at all," Grimes explained, "he's been pretty much a lab rat and a soldier in training his entire life."

"If he's as... well, as strange looking as you say I worry what the children will think when they first see him undressed," June continued, "you know how the kids are always barging into each other's rooms."

"Let's just take that as it comes," the man concluded, also worried about the matter.

Both the man and woman then went into the family room and asked Abel to come upstairs with them, they had smiled at the rather touching image of their small daughter holding the boy's hand. On the way up to the guest room Grimes explained to the boy what they were going to do. "June needs to take some measurements for the clothes she's going to get tomorrow, we'd like you to undress down to your shorts. Is that all right?"

"Yes sir." Even and neutral as ever. June stopped in the family's 'hobby room' and grabbed up her tape measure and a pad and pencil. Once in the guest room the boy quickly took off his shoes and socks, when the shirt and t-shirt came off June barely managed to stifle a gasp at the sight of no human like any other on earth. After Abel had removed his jeans the effect was even more intense. As her husband had, June felt the boy's arm and chest, astonished at the lack of 'give' to the flesh. The woman seemed at a loss for words as she glanced from the boy to her husband.

"Turn around son, so June can see your back."

"Yes sir."

The maternal instinct was strong in the woman, she seemed to wilt a little at the sight of the boy's scars. She touched his back lightly and even pulled the back of his briefs down a bit to see that the scars kept on going to cover his buttocks.

"That's why I got mad and left early," Grimes explained quietly.

"How could they do something like that?" The woman's eyes were again narrowed in anger.

"I just don't know, " Grimes answered, "let's just take those measurements now."

June took a deep breath and busied herself taking the needed measurements, neck, chest, waist, hips, so forth. Grimes wrote down the numbers as his wife read them off to him. The tailoring session was interrupted by a loudly blurted out "Holy shit!" Sam was standing in the open doorway, Deborah behind him managed only a soft "OhmyGod!" Little Mary peered around the edge of the doorway and giggled.

The exasperated man grimaced and told his children to "Come on in and get it over with." Soon the nearly nude boy was surrounded on all sides by the entire family, if this caused him any discomfort or embarrassment he gave no sign as he stood passively at attention.

"Kids," Grimes began, "now you see what sort of project Abel was in, he's been altered genetically for superior strength, superior everything. That information never leaves this house, understood?"

Sam answered with a quite "Yeah dad." Deborah with a whispered "Yes daddy." Mary just giggled again at the sight of the funny looking boy in just his underpants. Both of the older children were allowed to satisfy their curiosity by touching Abel's skin. Sam was totally awestruck and decided right then and there that he would strive to never anger the new boy, not that he could. Deborah remained out of character, she had nothing to say, her eyes said it all for her. Finally Sam asked a question. "How strong are you, Abel?" The boy didn't answer immediately as he looked to the man for possible guidance.

"Hold out your right arm, Abel." Grimes asked and the boy obeyed. "Now Sam why don't you see if you can make Abel's arm move down a little?" Sam looked at the outstretched arm for a moment then pushed down on Abel's hand with both of his. Other than to shift his balance slightly Abel moved hardly at all, his arm moved downward not at all. Finally Sam jumped up to put all of his weight on the other boy's arm, he wound up sitting on it. He may as well have been sitting on a steel beam.

"Awesome!" Sam commented somewhat beyond amazement. The muscles in Abel's arm seemed to bulge only slightly, it appeared that Sam could sit there all day if he wanted to. Deborah had to get into the act and took her turn, she wound up sitting on the outstretched arm also, a look of bewilderment on her face. Mary felt entirely left out of the fun, "Me to, me to!" she demanded. Abel carefully knelt and lowered the older girl to the floor and as gently as he was able to picked up the small girl and sat her on his left shoulder. Much giggling ensued.

Grimes had Abel turn around so the children could see his back, Deborah asked what all those fine lines were on his back.

"They're punishment scars." Grimes said simply. The girl would never again make disparaging remarks about Abel's lack of social skills, or much of anything else about him for that matter. After a while Grimes decided they had made a spectacle of the boy for long enough and asked him to dress. He shooed his kids out and June got the message that he wanted to talk to the boy alone for a time so she also joined her children downstairs.

"I apologize for putting you on exhibit like that, I thought my family needed to see with their own eyes." Grimes explained quietly.

"Yes sir, no apology is needed sir."

"Thanks son. How are you holding up, any problems?"

"No sir."

Grimes gave up for the time being, getting this boy to open up and talk freely may well be a life long project. "Are you tired, it's been a long day? When do you usually go to bed?"

"On a routine day I normally turn in at twenty-hundred hours, sir."

"That's fine," Grimes continued, "and you get up when?"

"Oh-four-hundred for exercise and a conditioning run, sir."

"Lord. Well you can turn in whenever you want and get up as early as you want," the man explained, "just be quiet in the morning if you're up before everyone else."

"Yes sir. Sir?"

"Yes Abel."

"May I go out for a run in the morning, sir?"

"Of course. You'll have to wear your jeans and t-shirt for now, we'll get you some proper running clothes tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."

"I see it's past eight already," Grimes observed, "you can call it a day if you want to. Do you need anything to sleep in?"

"No sir. Thank you sir, I will turn in now."

"All right then, we'll see you in the morning. We usually have some breakfast around eight on the weekends."

"Thank you sir, I will be back from my run by then."

"Good deal. Goodnight, son." No one had ever told the boy good night, it caught him off guard for a moment.

"Good night, sir."

Grimes left the boy and closed the bedroom door after him as he left. Abel stood still for a moment trying to decide what came next. After a moment he undressed down to his skin, neatly folding his clothes and placing them precisely on the dresser top. A short search of the bathroom located some toothpaste in the medicine cabinet and he brushed his teeth. After flushing the toilet he left the bathroom in the pristine condition that he had found it in and turned out the light.

The bed was too soft by far, the covers too thick and too warm. The pillow was totally unwanted. In the end the boy simply curled up on the floor's soft carpet and covered himself with just a sheet. And so to sleep, or the light catnapping that served for the boy as sleep.

Abel was snapped instantly awake at two A.M. by a small sound that seemed out of place. His acute hearing had easily picked up the quite whimpering of the smallest Grimes child, Mary. The boy was up and at the door in an instant, the only sound made was the sheet that covered him dropping to the floor. He stood at the closed door for a minute listening for signs that others might be attending to the child's distress. As silent as a thought Abel opened the door and moved into the hall, once more pausing to listen. He located the soft breathing and light snores of the family, save for Mary they were all in a deep sleep. The little girl's room was at the far end of the hall opposite Sam's. Abel moved to her room with a stealth and quietness borne of long practice and hard lessons. A small night light illuminated the girl in her bed, her eyes opened as the boy knelt and placed his rough hand on her damp forehead, he estimated her fever at one-hundred and two.

"Hello Mary." Abel would have smiled at her if he knew how.

The girl wasn't frightened. "Hello Abel. I don't feel good."

One of the people he was charged with protecting was ill, what to do? Abel considered taking the child to her mother, no the house was too cool. Bring the mother to the child.

"I'll get your mother," Abel said quietly to the little girl, " she will help you."

"Okay." Snuffle.

It would not seem possible for a person to run through a house and make no sound in the process, but it was. The boy opened the adult's bedroom door and moved in the darkness to the side of the sleeping woman. He placed his hard hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, his lack of any clothing had not yet entered into the boy's priorities.

"Ma'am?"

Abel only succeeded in scaring the living daylights out of the woman. June Grimes moved quickly away from the naked and silent boy, nearly shoving her husband out of the bed. "John! Wake up dammit!" He did and almost went for his sidearm that he kept in a quick-open combination lock box on the nightstand. Instead he turned on the light. The boy moved back one step, puzzled at the two adult's odd reactions. The man asked the first question.

"Abel! Jesus son, you scared us silly! What's wrong?"

"I apologize sir. Mary is ill, she has a fever."

"What?" Both adults were still trying to come into focus.

"Mary is ill, sir. I heard her, she seemed in some distress. I went to see about her, sir."

What the boy was saying finally registered with the woman and man, both were out of bed and pulling on robes as they headed for the door. Abel followed the man and woman down the hall to the girl's room, they in their robes, he still just in his skin. June Grimes had dealt with sick children for years now and knew what was serious and what just seemed that way. She sat on the edge of the bed and felt her daughter's forehead as the boy had done.

"She does have a fever. John, get the thermometer." The man obeyed without question, he knew when his spouse was in charge. After Grimes had left the room the woman turned to the boy. "Thank you Abel, I'm sorry for the way I acted." Before the boy could think of an answer the man was back with the electronic thermometer, the sort that is inserted into the ear rather than the rear. (a blessing to mothers everywhere) "I estimated her temperature at one-hundred and two, Ma'am," Abel offered. As June took her daughter's temperature she asked the boy, "You've had some medical training too?"

"Yes Ma'am. General and severe trauma first aid. Battlefield surgical techniques, improvised wound treatments, illness and injury diagnosis..."

The thermometer beeped and interrupted him, the readout said 102.2F. June just looked at the boy for a moment, there seemed to be many layers to him under that tough skin. "You were right Abel. We'll just keep a close eye on her for the time being, these things can sometimes come and go very quickly in a small child."

"Yes Ma'am. If her temperature exceeds one-hundred and three, measures should be taken to reduce the fever, such as alcohol rubdowns or ice, no aspirin. If that fails hospitalization is indicated, seizures may occur."

This was the most that either adult had ever heard the boy say, a little more than they really wanted to know about childhood fevers, especially their child's fever.

June brought up the boys lack of attire, "Dear, you should always put some clothes on when you leave your room, besides the house is very chilly."

"Yes Ma'am. Should I leave now?"

"You can go back to bed for now," June stood and kissed the boy on his forehead, his first kiss, "and thank you again, you did just the right thing."

Your average boy would have beamed at the praise, Abel was just confused by the whole incident, especially by the kiss. None of this was apparent to the two adults.

"Thank you Ma'am." Then he turned and left. The two adults just smiled and shook their heads at the scare the boy had given them and at his complete lack of any grasp on the concept of modesty.

"I woke up and he was standing there in his birthday suit in the dark," June explained, "I don't know what I thought. I feel ashamed, the poor boy was just trying to do the right thing."

"He did do the right thing," Grimes explained, "I don't think his lack of clothes meant a thing to him, we shouldn't make too big of a deal about it, he's got enough to cope with for now."

The two parents turned their attention back to their daughter, a glass of water and a mother's touch went a long ways toward easing the girl's bad night. June would nap by her youngest's bed till morning keeping tabs on the course of the fever, which as predicted went almost as quickly as it came.

A little after four in the morning June once more became aware that the cat-silent boy (clothed) was in the room with her and her daughter, he was leaning over her sleeping child as if to search for any sign of illness or distress.

"She's fine Abel," the woman explained as the boy quickly stood and faced her, "she'll probably have the sniffles or something for a few days but the fever is about gone."

"Yes Ma'am. Mister Grimes said I could take my morning run."

"Go ahead then, but be very careful."

"Yes Ma'am."

Abel ran toward the hills, away from the complications and confusion of his new life. The pre-dawn darkness hid the swiftly moving apparition, the few people stirring at that hour mistrusted their eyes, no one moved that fast, especially a boy. Once free of the streets and into the hills the boy paid little attention to fences, running trails were sometimes used but more often than not they were not bothered with. At one point while he was on a trail the boy overtook another runner as the sun crested the horizon, the woman was a serious marathon runner who could leave the best run-for-exercise athlete in a quivering heap. Abel blew by her on a very steep section of the path, his polite "Good Morning, Ma'am" was adding insult to injury as she slowed to a stop. She now realized that there was at least one other human on the planet who could leave her totally in a quivering heap.

A small diversion was a chance to run down one of the runty deer that inhabited the hills. The boy only tackled and pulled the small buck down, he had no need for the meat so he released the animal mostly unharmed. Abel wore no watch, he didn't have one, but his practiced eye gauged the rising sun's progress and he began retracing his route when he deemed the time right. Breakfast was at eight.

On the way back he encountered more runners, all of them distrusting their senses as Abel passed them. What appeared as an insanely fast sprint was just an easy jog for the boy. Back on the city streets there were several near coronaries as motorists screeched to a halt as the boy flashed in front of their cars. Two blocks away from the Grimes' home there was an 'incident'.

If properly raised and trained Rottweiler's make good companions and guardians, if not they can sometimes be as dangerous as a wolf. This neighborhood terror was named "Butthead," a moniker much better suited to the animal's owner. As frequently happened Butthead had escaped his backyard confinement and was roaming the streets looking for someone or something to chase and terrorize. The 'someone' this time was one Marjorie Stimmons who was caught midway between her front door and her car as she tried to leave for her Saturday real estate job.

When Abel came upon them the woman was trying to fend off the animal with an empty garbage can, her right calf already bleeding from the animal's first lunging bites. The woman's screaming had begun attracting the neighbors, a man four doors down was running toward the woman and dog, he carried what looked like a .38 revolver. Of course Abel got there first.

The massive dog whirled and charged at the boy, the woman screamed again at the thought of the animal tearing the 'defenseless' young boy to shreds. Butthead's morning fun ended abruptly as Abel delivered a blur of a sweeping kick to the animal's head. The impact crushed one side of the dog's heavy skull and snapped it's neck. The force of the blow also sent the suddenly dead Butthead spinning into the middle of the street.

"Are you all right, Ma'am?" Abel had calmly moved to the woman, he knelt to inspect the trembling woman's bleeding calf. Marjorie could only sob as she sank to the lawn near the sidewalk. The boy took note that her wounds weren't bleeding enough to warrant a tourniquet. "That will need some stitches Ma'am." By this time the man with the .38 had arrived, several other people were on the way. Deciding that matters were well in hand Abel had simply turned and ran on home to the Grimes'.

Three people had seen the boy kick the dog into the street, three people scratched their heads and thought the same thoughts. "Who the hell was that kid?" When the police finally arrived they at first thought the dog had been hit by a car, or maybe a freight train. The officer asked questions with more than disbelief, the dog's head was barely recognizable. "A kid did this?" The guy with the .38 replied, "I was gonna shoot that f---ing mutt then that kid got here first, damnedest thing I ever saw. Just one kick, no fuss or muss the dog goes ass over teakettle into the street. Never twitched a muscle after it hit. The kid must have known karate or something."

Or something.

Abel's arrival back at his new foster parent's home was met with some relief, the adults had began to fret a bit that maybe the boy had just kept on going or had met some sort of accident. At ten minutes to eight Abel knocked on the front door, he had locked it on his way out. Sam let him in. "Hi Abel, mom's making waffles and stuff."

"Good morning Samuel...Sam." Abel's clothing looked like he had been through a small war.

"Geez! Did you fall off a cliff or something?" Sam asked. The new boy was more than a tad mussed.

"No Sam, I ran for some distance through the hills to the west."

Abel followed Sam into the kitchen area, June took one look at him and decided that cleanliness was in order before breakfast. "Take a quick shower Abel, Sam will bring you something to wear while you have breakfast, I'll put your things in the washer."

"Yes Ma'am."

Abel was the last person to sit down for breakfast, he wore Sam's number two bathrobe, the one that Sam got from his aunt, the one with the Star Wars characters on it. Sam hated it. John Grimes asked him about his morning run.

"There was more high grass and fewer rocks than Colorado, sir."

"Any problems?"

"No sir. There was one incident, sir."

This got the man's attention, everyone's attention. "What happened, son?"

"Two streets to the west I came upon a large dog attacking a woman, the dog charged me and I killed it, sir."

Mouths opened, chewing stopped, eyes widened.

"You killed a dog, son?" Grimes could just see the police pounding on the front door any minute.

"Yes sir. A Rottweiler I believe, an adult male. The woman's leg was bleeding, she was trying to fend off the dog with a refuse can."

"Butthead! The dog from hel..." Sam knew about the dog, all of the kids for blocks around did. The beast was the subject of awe and fear, a minor legend even.

"How did you kill it, Abel?" Grimes already had an idea.

"A kick to the head, sir. May I have the rest of the bacon, sir?"

"Help yourself, if it's not on someone's plate it's up for grabs." Grimes marveled at the boy's lack of concern over the incident.

"Thank you, sir."

"You did the right thing coming to the aid of that woman," Grimes explained, "you also did the right thing protecting yourself from that dog."

"Thank you, sir."

Abel's appetite negated the need for using the garbage disposal that morning, or any morning thereafter.

While Abel's clothing was in the laundry and the family engaged in the Saturday morning routine the boy was in limbo, he had no assigned duties, no orders. What to do? Sam took the new boy in tow and took him on a guided tour of the Grime's abode. First stop was the basement 'gym', in actuality just a cleared space with a fair collection of exercise equipment. The barbells had weights that could add up to two-hundred pounds, if they were all put on the bar at once.

"I can lift about sixty pounds on a good day," Sam explained, then asking "how about you?"

"I'm not sure, Sam." Then Abel ventured to ask permission. "May I add weights to the bar?"

"Sure, help yourself."

Abel put all of the weights on the bar, he handled the cast iron discs as if they were only pieces of wood. Sam stood open mouthed and mute as the other boy did easy one-arm curls with the fully loaded barbell.

"Are there any more weights," Abel asked simply, "these are too light."

Finally Sam found his voice. "That's all there is. Geez!"

Nothing in the basement 'gym' came close to providing the sort of physical challenge that the boy was used to or that was needed for a proper workout. After a while Sam gave up and led his new friend out to the backyard pool, Abel was still clad in just his borrowed bathrobe.

"Dad hasn't turned on the heater yet," Sam explained, "we don't use it during the winter. He said he would heat it the first of May, next week. He has the filter stuff working now though."

Abel regarded the average size pool for a moment, the morning air was still quite cool. "May I go for a swim, sir?" He asked.

Sam was at something of a loss. "I guess so, the water's still really cold though."

Abel removed his bathrobe before Sam could say anything more and stood nude for an instant in the morning sun. His dive seemed to barely break the water, he did four laps of the pool before surfacing briefly for air, then eight more before a second surfacing. Deborah wandered out to see what her dopey brother and the weird new boy were up to. The sight of the unclothed Abel in the pool caused her to smile impishly before she returned to report the situation to her father in the kitchen.

"Uh, Daddy?"

"Yeah, Deb."

"Abel's swimming in the pool."

"It's got to be freezing!" Grimes hadn't caught on to the situation yet.

"Dad?"

"Yes Deb."

"He doesn't have on any swim trunks or anything, you know."

The man ceased his bill paying paperwork and looked up from the table. "Oh." After a moment he just shrugged his shoulders. "We'll get some for him today, the neighbors can't see him back there anyway unless they climb over the fence or something. Don't make a big deal out of it to him, he's probably always just skinny dipped judging from the all over tan he has. Just take him a towel and with none of your usual wisecracks. He'll learn proper manners eventually."

"Okay, Dad."

Deborah returned to the pool with a large blue bath towel, Abel was still traversing the pool at an amazing clip, mostly underwater. The sight of a nude boy didn't really embarrass the girl, she had a younger brother and access to the internet, she was however fascinated by his incredible physique. Somehow Abel really didn't seem naked, his muscles were his clothing. Eventually the boy ceased his imitation of a porpoise and emerged from the frigid pool, he didn't seem to even be breathing hard. Deborah handed the unconcerned Abel the towel, he thanked her and quickly dried off from top to bottom. Sam gave him the robe, like the girl he was still totally amazed at their new guest's body. Deborah broke the momentary silence by announcing that Abel's clothes should be out of the dryer by now and that she and her mom would be taking off for the mall.

"Come on Abel, let's get your clothes and head on over to the skateboard park." Sam tugged Abel's sleeve and the boy meekly followed his young host into the house. The two grabbed the clothing and went up to the guest room. While Abel was dressing Sam asked him a few questions.

"You're tanned everywhere, do you always just swim naked?"

Abel regarded the other boy a moment as he pulled on his jeans, "Yes, Sam." You're sort of supposed to wear swim trunks here, it's like a house rule or something. It's kind of silly but there it is."

"Thank you, Sam. I don't have any..."

"Mom will probably get you some today."

Sam was beginning to understand that long wordy answers weren't to be had from the new boy, perhaps a new subject would help.

"Have you ever been skateboarding?"

"No Sam. What is skateboarding?"

"It's simple really. You have a board with wheels on the bottom, you stand on it and well... you skateboard. I'll teach you how, it's fun."

Abel didn't respond for a moment, then.. "Thank you, Sam. I would like to learn."

"Cool! Let's go!" Sam felt like he had made some sort of contact.

They stopped off in Sam's room to collect his skateboard, Abel regarded it as if it were perhaps some sort of odd weapon. The two then went downstairs where Sam informed his father of their plans.

"That's fine son," agreed Grimes, "just keep Abel out of trouble. Remember, he's not used to a lot of things you take for granted."

"Sure dad."

Out the door.

Sam immediately hopped onto the skateboard and pushed off down the sidewalk. Abel trotted alongside at an easy lope while watching every move the other boy made to control the board. The park was only four blocks away, it had a paved area set aside for skateboarders and inline skaters. There were the usual empty swimming pool shapes, slopes and curved walls. As Sam and his new friend arrived at the paved area there was a problem.

"Uh oh," Sam nodded toward three older boys on the far side of the area, "it's the Masterson goons. Dad told me to keep away from them. Let's stay on this side, they're nothing but bad news."

Abel said nothing, his eyes narrowed slightly while appraising the three possible threats to Sam. For a short while Sam and Abel took turns on the skateboard, Sam would demonstrate a move then Abel would attempt the same maneuver. Sam felt rather put out that his new friend always got it right the first time and was in fact far better at it than he was.

The Masterson brothers decided on some morning amusement and skated up to the two boys, surrounding them on three sides. Clark Masterson, the oldest, spoke first. "Kiss, kiss Sammy! Who's your new girl friend, you little faggot?"

Sam reddened but said nothing at first as Abel moved closer to his side.

"Come on Abel, let's split." As Sam started to move away Clark Masterson moved to push him in the chest to shove him back, he didn't connect.

Abel's motion was a blur as he grabbed the larger boy's arm with one hand in a vise-like grip. With an easy motion he twisted Clark's arm downward, forcing the silently gasping boy to his knees. The other two park bullies gathered their wits and charged at Abel, the first to reach him was casually backhanded to land on the ground with what was probably a broken nose. The other Masterson had his legs swept out from under him with an easy leg motion, landing in a painful heap on the rock hard pavement. The half-dozen other skateboarders in the area came to a halt and watched dumbfounded as one rather small boy totally dominated three much larger boys.

Abel shifted his hold on Clark, holding the teen nearly off the ground with a one-handed grip on the bully's throat. Clark seemed to be strangling, being unable to speak he only managed to wet his baggy pants. Abel turned calmly to Sam and asked, "Should I kill them, Sam?"

Sam finally found his voice. "Geez, no! Just let them go, please!"

Abel hesitated a moment then he lowered and pulled the gurgling Clark close to his face. "Sam has asked me not to kill you so I won't." Abel spoke this like he was reciting the time of day, this terrified the three park nemesis' all the more. Then in a low whisper that was almost a reptile's hiss, "Go away. If I ever see you again I will tear off your ugly head and shit down your throat." Abel released his prey and the three of them made remarkably good progress in leaving the park. They never came back, ever.

How to intimidate an enemy and use their fear against them was one of the lessons the boy had learned well.

"Geez, Abel! Would you have really killed those guys?" Sam was almost as shaken as the three bully's were.

"I have orders to protect you and your family, they were threatening you." Abel's reply left no room for doubt, he would have indeed killed them all.

"Yeah I know, but you just can't kill people for small shit like that! They would have just shoved us around and called us names, you can't kill people for piddly stuff like that!" Sam's animated explanation seemed to register with Abel. "If time permits I will ask your advice in the future before acting, sir."

"Cool." Sam seemed out of the mood for any more skateboarding. "Let's just head on back."

The other witnesses to the event all had similar thoughts.

"Who the hell was that kid?"

Sam spoke little on the trip back to the house, Abel not at all. Abel's host didn't even ride the skateboard along the way, he seemed too upset to concentrate on riding. When the two were home Sam went straight out to the garage without a word to where his father was attempting to organize the tool bench. Abel was again in somewhat of a quandary, he estimated that Sam was displeased with him, apparently for his actions at the park. He had only been following his orders.

In his previous life official displeasure was accompanied with punishment, there seemed to be none of that here. The boy stood quietly in the living room for a moment, his hearing detected activity in the garage and in Mary's room. Abel moved silently as ever and looked in on the youngest Grimes child, she smiled at him as she sat on her bed playing with a collection of small, furry doll-things.

"Hi Abel! I feel better now." The boy was quiet for a moment before replying "That's good, Mary." Lacking anything else to say Abel turned silently and left for the garage where Sam was having words with his father. The boy paused outside the door to the garage and listened for a few moments.

"Dad, you need to have a really serious talk with Abel!"

Grimes stopped his labors and looked up at his son.

"What's wrong, son?"

"At the park..." Sam didn't quite know where to start. "The Masterson dorks were there. Me and Abel stayed away from them like you've told me to, but they came over to us and started their usual crap."

"What happened, son?" Grimes was all ears at this point.

"Clark, he's the biggest, started to push me. Abel moved so fast I didn't really see it happen real good. With one hand he had Clark by his arm and down on his knees, then the other two tried to jump him. Abel put them on the ground like he was just swatting flies."

"Go on, then what?" Grimes asked with a growing sense of dread.

"Dad... Abel turns to me while he was pretty much strangling Clark with one hand and asks me if he should kill them! Like he was asking me to please pass the salt or something!"

"Jesus Christ," Grimes turned a bit paler, "What did you say?"

"I told him to just let them go and he did. Clark was so scared he wet his pants, I nearly did myself!"

Abel had moved as softly as ever to stand in the doorway while Sam finished his story, finally Grimes noticed him and realized he must have heard everything.

"Abel, come on in here for a minute," Grimes asked. Sam jumped a little when he realized that Abel had been standing right behind him. "You heard what Sam was telling me?"

"Yes sir." Abel moved to stand between Grimes and his son.

"Would you have killed those three boys?"

"Yes sir, they were a danger to Sam, sir."

The man stared at the boy, he was coming to understand exactly what he had taken into his home. The boy was more automaton than human, an eleven-year old killing machine.

"Son, have you ever actually killed anyone before?"

Abel hesitated only a moment before answering. "Of course, sir."

"Where.. I mean how many?" Grimes wasn't sure just what he wanted to ask.

"That information involves classified actions which I am not at liberty to discuss, sir."

Sam just stood there using his mouth as a hanger for flies at these last pieces of information.

"More than one?" Grimes already knew the answer to that.

"I don't believe I can discuss that, sir."

"I see." The man had to somehow defuse this small, walking h-bomb. "Abel, I specifically order you to never kill anyone if there is any other possible course of action. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Yes sir." If nothing else the boy understood orders. "Do you wish me to stand for punishment, sir?"

"What?" The man was set back a little by that.

"I displayed poor judgment while protecting Sam, sir."

"You reacted the way you have been trained to, that's not your fault." Grimes thought for a moment before continuing. "Taking a human life is a terrible thing not to be done lightly. You've been taught how to kill but perhaps not enough of the consequences involved in doing so. The rules for civilian life are much more complex than those for military operations."

The man put his hand on the boy's hard shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Give serious hard thought to what I've told you here, you didn't do anything to warrant any sort of punishment. Just remember one word, restraint."

"Yes, sir." No trace of relief, nothing.

"Okay then. Let's fix some lunch, the women folk will probably be in a shopping frenzy for hours yet." Grimes felt that they had dodged a very big bullet, but not by much. The man decided then and there that Abel would bear much closer watching than what he had originally anticipated. He also was proud of his own son's good sense in averting a total disaster.

------------------------------------- Langley, Virginia "Yes Ma'am, Abel asked the Grimes boy if he should kill the three punks in the park. The long range mikes barely picked it up, but it's on the tape."

Abel had been under constant surveillance since arriving at the Grimes house, the Director of CIA was given twice daily updates. The one thing they didn't know was that the boy had detected their efforts to keep tabs on him early on. Even CIA didn't fully appreciate just what Abel was capable of.

------------------------------------- Abel stood by in the kitchen as the Sam and his father prepared sandwiches, he would have preferred something more substantial than the bologna and cheese sandwiches but said nothing. Abel had always eaten whatever was put before him, or what he could catch. As the three sat at the table Abel ventured to speak again.

"Sir, I have something to report."

Grimes had a 'now what' feeling. "What is it, son?"

"I have been under surveillance. On my run this morning, and at the park with Samuel...Sam."

Who would be watching the boy? Grimes could just imagine.

"Who did you see?"

"Three teams of four men each, civilian clothing, long range video and audio pickups. They carried concealed side arms. Method of operation was consistent with CIA procedures."

Talk about concise reporting, Grimes thought. "Any idea why they would be watching you?"

"I would presume they wish to monitor my progress, sir. I don't believe they pose a threat at the present. Has this house been unoccupied for any length of time in the last few weeks, sir?" The boy was a virtual chatterbox compared to his normal reticence.

"We all went into San Francisco last weekend, we took Mary to the zoo...." Grimes had a sinking feeling. "Do you think they bugged this house?"

"Very likely sir, if you wish I can do a visual inspection. A full sweep will need special equipment."

Sam kept forgetting to chew, this was getting way cool!

"Yes, let's have a look around." Grimes had the awful feeling that even these words were being taped as they spoke. "Where would you suggest we start?"

"Does this house has an insulated attic, sir?"

Across the street and four doors down the team of three spooks began a hurried disconnect and throw it all in the van routine. The "For Sale" sign on the house they occupied was real but no one had been by to look at the house.

What the boy easily located in the attic caused Grimes to begin a slow boil that would end with a call to the spook who's telephone number he carried in his wallet. If you didn't know where to look and what to look for you wouldn't have found anything, Abel knew the where and the what.

"These are needle cameras with audio pickups sir," Abel pulled one of the tiny probes out of the ceiling drywall that was under the thick insulation, "quite well installed." Grimes worked for the FBI but these devices were something new to him.

Every room on the top floor had one or more of the bugs in it's ceiling, from inside the rooms they were invisible unless you used a magnifying glass or if you had Abel's eyes. There was a similar arrangement in the basement. All of the fine fiber-optic leads ended inside a hollow two-by-four in the attic, a tiny directional antenna pointed out of the louvered air vent at the vacant house four doors down the street. A gold fish had more privacy than the Grimes family.

Even as Abel pointed through the air vent at the empty house it's garage door opened and a Ford van drove out and then down the street, they never bothered to shut the door. Grimes ripped loose the phony two-by-four and tore loose the bundle of leads, he had a phone call to make.

The phone rang three times.

"Hello Agent Grimes, Fred here."

"You sons of bitches bugged my house! Did my wife and daughter provide you assholes with suitable entertainment, or do you prefer watching young boys?" Grimes wasn't quite shouting.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I wasn't informed of any surveillance on you." Fred almost sounded convincing, but not quite.

Grimes knew he was wasting his time and just slammed the phone down.

------------------------------------------- Langley "The boy spotted all of our teams, the very best we have. He's probably found all of the surveillance gear in the Grimes home too. Grimes called our man, he was to say the least, pissed off."

The Director just nodded her head, she knew by now that there was no way they were ever going to let Abel just go to waste by letting him try to be Wally Cleaver. The President could go play with himself.

------------------------------------------- John Grimes had cooled down somewhat by the time the ladies returned from the mall, he was going to wait a while before telling his wife that she had been on full display for the last week or so, Sam's big mouth beat him to it.

"Mom, the house was bugged! We were all on TV, even in the bathrooms!"

Not too tactful.

After John Grimes explained what had been going on there were two extremely mortified females in the house. June Grimes thought of the private moments in the bathroom that no one shared with another, the lovemaking in their bedroom. Deborah thought back to the times she had stood in front of her bedroom mirror wondering if her bare body would ever bloom and become more curves than sharp angles. The only people in the house who weren't embarrassed were little Mary and Abel, Mary didn't understand and Abel couldn't care less.

Abel dutifully tried on all of the strange new clothes he was presented with, they seemed odd and ill suited for the life he had left. Deborah assured him that they were just too cool and to trust her, olive drab and camouflage they were not. It did not occur to the boy to say thank you for the clothing, such things were always just 'issued', he had never really owned anything he wore or used. Save for his hairbrush and toothbrush, those were his.

Jason Murdoch was Sam's best friend, they were in the same class at school. Jason usually came over on Saturdays, today was no different. Jason was a 'physical' type of person, he preferred a headlock to a handshake, a body tackle to a pat on the back. Jason was a good person, Sam liked him a lot although at times he wished he could lighten up just a little. Abel would soon be assessing Jason, was he a threat to Sam?

Abel was in his room carefully folding and putting away his new wardrobe. At Deborah's insistence he had donned the wildly colored T-shirt and the denim bib overalls that the girl had wanted him to wear. If Abel had been wearing a full body chemical warfare suit it would have felt more comfortable to him. The boy was just aligning his new sneakers at the foot of his bed when Sam and Jason tumbled into the room. Abel stood and faced the two boys, his eyes missing nothing about Jason, he was soft and weak like Sam was. No threat.

"This is Jason, he's in my class at school." Sam pushed his friend forward toward Abel.

Abel said nothing as he extended his hand toward the new boy. Perhaps he shouldn't call him 'sir'?"

"Hi." Jason said.

"Pleased to meet you, Jason." Abel was unsure if he was being too familiar or not.

Jason took the foster child's hand, it was like shaking hands with a tree limb.

"Geez!" What's wrong with your hand?" Jason wasn't too long on tact, most young boys aren't.

Abel said nothing in reply, there wasn't anything wrong with his hand. Sam explained a few things to his friend.

"Abel's sort of special, he's really, really strong. Don't piss him off."

Jason was a little taller than Abel, he thought a playful poke at the new boy's stomach would sort of break the ice, he hadn't really taken a close look at the corded muscles that were visible on Abel's arms and neck. Jason's lightly clenched fist was allowed to get within four inches of Abel's abdomen before a blur of a vise closed around it, the vise decided that it wasn't necessary to tighten very much.

"Oww, shit! Stop it!" Jason instantly realized that Abel was someone not to be kidded with. Criminy!

"I apologize. I meant you no harm, sir." Abel released the boy, Jason stepped back rubbing his smarting hand.

"Sir?" Jason looked to Sam with a questioning expression.

"Abel's had sort of a military family or something." Sam thought it sounded plausible.

"I guess so!" Jason was fascinated by this weird kid, maybe a little afraid of him too. What to say next? "What grade are you in?"

"I don't attend school, sir."

"Why?"

"Abel's sort of been home schooled," Sam interrupted.

"Oh. My cousin's do that, they live in Montana." Jason seemed to have bought the small lie.

"I've just started karate lessons," Jason continued, "so far all I've learned is how to fall down the right way. Do you know any moves?"

"Uh oh." Sam thought.

"Yes sir, I have had some training."

"Show us!"

"Uh, Jason...maybe.." Sam could see total disaster looming.

Abel casually moved his left hand out to one side in a small motion designed to slightly distract one's attention. As Jason's eyes followed the movement Abel shifted and seemed to click forward with the fingers of his right hand grouped to form a point, stopping less than an inch from Jason's right eye. The full motion, too fast to follow, would have plunged the iron hard hand into the other boy's brain. Jason just froze, so did Sam.

"Shit!" Jason finally squeaked. He was trembling a little.

"It is a simple move, I will instruct you if you wish." Abel's rough voice did little to calm Jason who had by now seemed to have lost much of his previous interest in the martial arts.

----------------------------------------- Kennedy Elementary School The sixth grade seemed about right. The tests that the boy took showed him to be very advanced in mathematics and science. Abel was deficient in the more useless subjects such as environmental concerns and cultural diversity studies. The school had no placement tests on military weapons and combat tactics. After the morning of taking the tests June Grimes left the boy in the tender care of the public education system.

"Just do as they tell you. Be patient with it all. Be good. Don't hurt anyone!"

"Yes ma'am."

"Class, this is Abel Grimes, he'll be with us for the rest of the school year." Ms. Harker had Abel standing in front of the snickering class, apparently good manners had never been part of their curriculum. If she was expecting the new boy to say "hi" she was going to have a long wait.

"Just take that empty desk at the back, Abel."

"Yes, ma'am."

More snickering. Had the new dork really said "ma'am?" And what was wrong with his voice?

Richard Jeevers was the sixth-grade Alpha Male. It was preordained that Abel would take the seat directly to Richard's right. Alpha Males do not like other males to look them directly in the eye, any boy who has survived public school will tell you that you always avoid eye contact with the bullies. Abel stared directly into Richard's eyes, regarding him as one might appraise a potential threat and then dismissing him as soft and weak. They were all soft and weak.

Why had he been put in such a place?

Richard was taller and heavier than the new kid. He decided he would put things straight at afternoon recess.

Like all flesh and blood Abel needed at times to answer nature's call. Richard and three of his toadies followed the new kid into the boy's bathroom.

"Look at that, the new girl can piss standing up!"

Abel didn't need to turn around from the urinal for his hearing to accurately locate all four of the boys. He remembered his foster father's words about restraint and simply finished emptying his bladder. When he finished and turned the four of them were in a semicircle around him, Richard Jeevers in the middle.

Abel ignored them and moved toward the sinks to wash his hands. Richard didn't care for being ignored and went to grab the new kid by the shoulder. Abel ignored that also, the other boy's hand seemed to slip off as if he had missed his target. In fact the 'target' had just shifted out of the way slightly.

"Don't do that again." Abel's soft growl of a voice caused Richard to hesitate just for a second.

"Or what, dickweed?"

"I will shove your face into a commode."

No one had ever dared to say anything like that to Richard Jeevers.

"Like hell!" Richard had almost managed to form a fist before the new kid seemed to be everywhere at once and then had him kissing the disgusting tile floor. The three toadies just backed away as Abel easily picked up the Alpha Male by his neck and crotch and then did indeed shove his face into the most offensive of the commodes. Remembering restraint Abel did not finish drowning the retching ex-Alpha Male.

"Behave yourself or the next time I will flush what is left of you."

Abel's calm admonition had the desired effect, Richard Jeevers would never look the new kid in the eye again.

Abel shared a bus seat with Sam for the ride home.

"How'd it go?"

"I... I do not understand the reason for my attending this... school."

It was the first time that Sam had heard Abel so at a loss, so unsure of himself.

"I think my folks just want you to learn about regular life, sort of. Don't feel bad if you don't understand it all. Heck, I don't understand it half the time."

Abel looked into Sam's eyes as if trying to understand. Sam always felt a little uneasy when Abel looked at him so directly. It was like being studied by a wolf.

"Thank you for your help Samuel...Sam."

"Sure."

------------------------------------------ Plymouth Academy, Virginia If you had to ask about the cost of tuition at Plymouth Academy then you were in the wrong line, please inquire elsewhere. Senators, diplomats from many countries, people with 'old money' sent their young to this place. The school had been turning out future leaders and future snobs for almost one-hundred and twenty years. A ripe plumb for the picking.

Two weeks of careful observation had resulted in a finalized plan. The school would be taken and held for a fearsome ransom. It mattered little to the people involved, success or failure would in one way or the other cost the Great Satan that was America a very great price.

Chapter Two An Expendable Asset It was nearing the end of the school year, no major 'incidents' had occurred (not counting the unfortunate misunderstanding with the utility company's meter reader who had threatened to sue).

Abel was sitting at the small writing desk in his room when John Grimes entered. As always Abel stood quickly to attention, try as he might the boy could not break the ingrained habit. Grimes had given up trying to get him to be anything but what he would always be.

"Homework?"

"Yes sir. I am required to write five pages on the subject of global warming."

"How's it going?"

"There are conflicting theories, sir. My research on the internet and at the school library offer a very great deal more than five pages."

"I'll give you a hint."

"Sir?"

"Give the teacher only what she wants, that isn't always the complete truth."

Abel was at a loss for a moment, then Grimes clued him in.

"The education system is largely a liberal institution, go with the prevailing opinions of the tree huggers. Keep it simple."

"Tree huggers, sir?"

"Environmentalists, they mean well but they get cranky when confronted with the facts."

"Yes sir."

Abel's education was interrupted by the telephone. The 'spook' was calling.

"Fred here. Can we talk for a while?"

"I'm all ears." Grimes had grown to detest the man.

"There is a situation developing, it will hit the networks any time now."

"A situation?"

"Yes. A very exclusive private school in Virginia has been taken over by possible Islamic terrorists."

"Jesus," Grimes was silent for a moment, "why are you calling me about this?"

"The Director has asked for Abel's to be used in this matter."

"Which director?"

"CIA."

"Forget it! She can't have him or "use" him, he's under my legal care and protection! I have the rights of a parent in this!"

"Remain calm, Agent Grimes."

"Like hell! That boy isn't going anywhere, he's just trying to adjust to a normal life!"

"The President is in the loop on this, his granddaughter is a student at the school."

"I thought that pompous nitwit had ordered GEA terminated? He wanted the boy to have a good home!"

"He did. Now that his grandchild is on the chopping block he suddenly sees things in a different light ."

"No! Over my dead body!"

"That can be arranged you know, think of your family and career."

Grimes just slammed the receiver down and tried not to scream. They would use Abel, no matter what or who stood in their way.

What to say to the boy?

"Abel, there's been..." Grimes couldn't continue.

"Yes sir, I heard. Shall I prepare for travel?" It would seem that the boy heard everything that went on in the house.

"No. You are part of our family now, you are my son, our son."

Abel blinked at this from the man, he had never been anyone's son.

"With respect, sir. I have had some...experience with this sort of thing. Perhaps I can best carry out my orders to protect you and your family by doing as these people ask."

"We can go to the media!"

"I can do whatever is required of me sir, and there is a need."

"You're just a boy for Chrissakes!"

"Am I, sir?"

Grimes knew the answer to that, Abel was so very much more than just a boy.

"I forbid it. End of conversation!"

"Yes, sir."

That settled it as far as Abel was concerned, he had been given his orders.

A short while later men were walking up to the Grimes' front door. Of course Abel heard them first and almost literally flew through the house to place himself between his 'family' and the visitors.

"What is it, son?" Grimes and his wife dashed to stand behind the boy.

"There are four men approaching, sir."

"Well, you're not going with them! I'll talk to them."

"Yes, sir."

Abel opened the door even before the knock came.

"Please halt right there." The boy's voice could be very chilling when he wanted it to be.

"Abel?" Agent (CIA) Shepard had only seen the one photo.

"Yes sir, I have orders not to accompany you. Please leave."

"Son, we have orders too, from the very top."

"If you do not leave now I will put all of you in the hospital for a very long time."

"Sure kid. Now come on along with us, there's a big flap on." Shepard obviously hadn't been given the 'full briefing' on the boy.

"You'd better pay attention to him." Grimes cautioned.

They didn't pay attention and moved toward the boy. John Grimes wasn't too sure what exactly occurred next but he was soon on the phone calling 911. There were four unconscious and disarmed government agents scattered on his front lawn. Multiple broken bones, internal injuries, etc. Abel had followed his orders and hadn't killed them. Samuel's remark of "Oh shit!" seemed to cover everyone's reactions.

Four hours later Colonel Hartz called the Grimes residence. Could he please speak to Abel? John Grimes finally relented and let him.

"Explain." The officer demanded in a quiet tone.

"Sir, I had direct orders from Mister Grimes not to accompany the four agents."

"I see. You acted properly then. You let them live?"

"Yes, sir. Mister Grimes has also ordered me to use restraint at all times and to not kill unless there is no choice."

"He was correct to order that. Now I must override his orders and once more take command of you. Will you obey me?"

"Of course sir." Abel was quietly shocked that the man had even asked the question.

"There will be other people from the Army arriving within the hour, they are acting under my orders. You are to accompany them. If Mister Grimes wishes to come along, that's all right. Tell him that. I'll meet you at the aircraft, I'm here at SFO right now."

"Yes sir, thank you for that."

After Hartz had hung up he marveled that the boy had thanked him. It had never occurred before. There had never been a reason.

Needless to say this did not go down well with the Grimes family. There were still a lot of the local police outside trying to figure out just what had happened and why. The neighbors would have gossip fodder for years to come.

"You may accompany me if you wish sir, but it is not necessary."

"So you're following Steiner's orders now?"

"Yes sir, I have no alternative. I had previous orders about this."

"You can just say no, they can't make a child do this sort of thing, not legally."

"No sir. I cannot just say no."

Abel could never do that.

--------------------------------------------- Over Central Utah "This sump drain sir, do we know the diameter?" Abel was pouring over the few documents available on the school's layout.

"Two feet. You can make it, but barely." Colonel Hartz was once more a part of the boy's life. Grimes was still fuming as he sat in on the briefing.

"I will need a full slick suit and a dry pouch for the school uniform and equipment."

"It will all be waiting for you, all of your personal equipment."

"Communications, sir?"

"An E-var molded ear piece, a flat body-flex transmitter. It might not be of much use until you get into the main building."

"Yes sir. May I ask...a favor, sir?"

Abel had never dared to ask a favor from the officer in his entire life, from any officer.

"Yes, you may."

"Mister Grimes sir, can he be kept in a safe area?"

"Of course, consider it done."

"Thank you, sir."

Again the Colonel was amazed. Grimes felt touched to the point of tears that the small killing machine would even think to ask such a thing.

"How many enemy, sir?"

"We think there are seven of them. The penetrating radar has picked up that many armed with what appear to be M-16's or AR-15's. They seem to all have hand held radios, we're monitoring those but they haven't revealed very much."

"Explosives, sir?"

"They said they had four-hundred pounds of Pemtex but we have no proof of that. That could be a bluff but probably isn't."

"And all of the students are being kept together in the attached auditorium, sir?"

"As far as we can tell, almost three-hundred people counting the teachers and staff. They've only killed the four adults so far. What is your assessment on how to conduct this?"

"I agree that passing myself off as one of the students and approaching the targets one at a time is the most workable plan. Should I attempt to keep any of them alive, sir?"

Grimes was having a lot of trouble with the boy's plan but held his tongue.

"Only if it doesn't interfere with the objective. Eliminate them all if you need to."

"Yes, sir."

Killing them meant nothing to the boy. Taking out the trash held just as much emotional commitment. Less.

The briefing was taking place in an Air National Guard KC-135, the crew had been told to stay up front and to forget anything and everything. There were two hours left until they landed at Andrews Air Force Base.

"With your permission sir, I'll get some rest for now."

"Go ahead." Hartz motioned to one of the airline-type seats bolted to the aircraft's deck. Grimes went with the boy for a few quick words.

"I can see that I can't stop this insanity so I'll just ask you to be careful and not to take any risks you can avoid."

"Yes sir. There are very good odds for success."

Grimes leaned down close to the boy's ear.

"We have all come to love you, Abel. Always remember that."

"Yes sir, thank you. I..." There was something that Abel wanted to say but he could not form the words.

"Get some sleep, son."

"Yes, sir."

In less than a minute he was doing just that.

--------------------------------------------- Plymouth Academy, Virginia The basement drain branched out into a buried rock and gravel drainage field thirty feet lower and some four-hundred yards from the school. A silent excavation had been underway to expose the main pipe. Grimes had been allowed to come this far, the site was well shielded by trees from prying eyes. Most of the forces surrounding the school knew nothing of this operation. Those who had glimpsed the boy only saw a small figure clad in black from head to toe. The media knew nothing at all.

The sun was just starting to make its presence known.

"Proceed at your own discretion, keep us informed when possible."

"Yes sir."

"If the pipe is not passable at some point then just back out, there's still time for other options."

"Yes, sir."

Grimes stood somewhat in awe of his foster son. The boy was clad in some sort of black skin tight "slick suit" that when the man had touched it had felt like greased teflon. A padded bag of the same material held what Abel would need to complete his mission. Grimes knew that one of the hand cannons that the boy preferred was in that bag, he had one final word for Abel.

"If you get hurt I will be most displeased with you. Come back in one piece."

"Yes sir, that is my intention."

The first fifty yards of the pipe were clear, it was a tight fit that challenged even Abel. Tree roots had intruded at that point and had to be cleared. The combat knife that Abel carried strapped to one arm had a serrated saw edge on one side. Two minutes of mild effort eliminated the obstacles. Another ten minutes of crawling and wriggling had the boy silently peering up at the cast iron grate in the basement floor. Five minutes of listening and then peering through a small fiber optic probe told Abel that the basement was empty and unguarded. The boy's unassisted night vision would have made any owl very proud.

"All clear in the basement." Abel whispered, the tiny microphone was taped to the base of his throat.

Only a faint hiss of static told him that the signal wasn't getting through. That was expected. Time to push up the grate and put on his school uniform.

They had included a very complete uniform in the slick bag. Blazer, slacks, polished shoes and a white shirt with a school tie. Some other non-school additions were a Desert Eagle .454 with two extra clips, four handmade (by Abel) throwing knives. A flash-bang grenade.

Abel silently stripped off his 'slick suit' and quickly donned his school uniform disguise. In the almost nonexistent light the boy then moved to a small, low window along one wall of the huge basement area, radio reception should be better there. It was.

"On schedule, acknowledge."

His earpiece crackled and then the brief "Roger, proceed" came through.

------------------------------------------ The White House Situation Room "He's in. Everything is according to schedule." CIA was relishing this vindication of her faith in the GEA project.

"Is the FBI's HRT team ready?" The President was in a state closely resembling Jell-O by now.

"Yes sir, they will move in only as a last resort."

------------------------------------------ Abel moved like smoke up the stairs, listening for another full five minutes at the heavy locked door. There were no sounds, no indication that anyone was on the other side. The boy turned the locking bolt and gently eased the door open, now there was plenty of light, too much. The sun was up. Time to play the part of the confused and frightened child. His first target was just coming out of a rest room, still zipping up his fly.

"Boy! What are you doing!" The man spoke heavily accented English. They were almost his last words.

"I was hiding, I was scared!" Abel tried to pitch his voice up some.

"Where?"

"In... In the basement. There was shooting and stuff! I hurt my hand."

Abel walked unsteadily toward the man, of course the ruse worked.

"Let me see it."

The terrorist did get a brief look at the child's hand, just before it plunged into his eye socket and then on into his shattered brain.

"One down." Abel whispered as he paused to bend the barrel of the man's weapon back on itself.

"Roger." Replied Hartz.

Abel darted into the rest room to quickly rinse the man's blood and gory brains off of his right hand, the mess might otherwise raise some suspicions. His second target was as easy as the first. More so.

"You! Stop!"

"Please sir, please help me!"

Even a hardened terrorist might revert to humanity for a moment and respond to a child in need.

Abel pretended a leg injury and hobbled up to the man.

Then the injured boy jumped straight up and kicked the man's head fifty feet down the hallway. There was an appalling amount of blood. Everywhere.

"Two down."

"Roger."

Numbers three and four were spared any decision making at all, or even any thought as they received throwing knives to the base of their brains. The rest would be harder, they were all in the auditorium, with the explosives. With the children.

--------------------------------------- The White House "He's taken out four of them so far. Now it gets harder." CIA reported.

"Sweet Jesus, what is he?"

"He's GEA, sir. Remember?"

The President did remember, it made him shudder. An abomination before God was rescuing his only grandchild.

--------------------------------------- There were indeed explosives. Ten pound squares of the PMX were arrayed evenly throughout the auditorium. All were wired to one simple switch on a table that sat on the stage. Abel's knowledge of explosives estimated that perhaps a tenth of the children in the auditorium might survive the detonation and building collapse, at best. The boy's position in an attic air duct gave him a good overview of the situation. Disabling the person by the firing switch was the first priority.

"I will be firing my weapon in a short while," Abel whispered, "do not start your entry until you get my signal."

"Roger. Position?"

"Above the auditorium in an air duct. There is a small film projection booth below me, I will enter there."

"Roger. Proceed."

The ventilation grate in the ceiling of the projection booth only creaked a little as Abel pushed it down and free of it's frame, then he was in. Opening the side door to the booth just a crack he then waited for the moment when all three of the men were facing away. With a round chambered in the cocked Desert Eagle that he held behind his right leg Abel stepped silently into view. He was almost halfway to the stage before the men saw him. All around were rows of silent and frightened children, the place smelled of fear and urine.

"You! Sit down now!" The bearded man on the stage stood up and moved a few feet to the left of the switch.

"Thank you," Abel whispered as his massive automatic snapped up into position.

A pistol chambered for the .454 round detonates rather than simply fires. The first Hydra-Shok round entered the terrorist's mouth and then removed the entire back half of the man's head. The second round in chest-center knocking him backwards in a heap, away from the switch. For a split second the two other armed men could not move at all, a split second was all that was needed. Two more booming explosions in rapid succession put an end to the hostage situation. Then the crying and screaming started.

"All down. No prisoners. No casualties. Move in."

"Roger. Well done. Return via the drain pipe."

"Understood."

As Abel turned to leave an adult male, one of the school's instructors, started to approach the boy with the big gun.

"Son, give me that." The fool only saw a boy with a gun and that would not do, it was an automatic expulsion offense. Perhaps the teacher had been driven a little insane by the past few day's events.

Abel ignored the idiot and without meaning to broke the man's arm as he quickly fended him off while running from the auditorium.

------------------------------------------- The FBI's HRT people were the first inside the school, they had been told nothing of the Army and the CIA's involvement or what they would find.

"Mother of God!" Agent Craig Henderson had never seen a person so completely separated from his head.

"It's like it's been ripped off, not cut." Agent Brinks was having some trouble with his stomach as he said this.

"More like knocked off, look how it's flattened. And look at this weapon, the barrel's a pretzel!"

The rest of what they found did nothing for their general morale.

The hysterical students and the stunned teachers could only reply that the "boy with the big gun" had saved them. No, they didn't know who he was but he was wearing a school uniform. They would eventually extract the throwing knives during the autopsies and would find the four shell casings from Abel's pistol (cannon). No law enforcement agency or even the military used such ammunition.

It all left the FBI feeling very uneasy and wanting to ask someone a lot of questions. But who could they ask?

If Abel was tired or drained in any way it did not show when he emerged from the filthy pipe. Grimes would not be pushed to one side and was the first to greet the boy.

"Son, are you all right?"

"Yes sir, no injuries. It went well."

"Thank God!"

Abel didn't quite know what to do as the man hugged him close.

"We have to go. Now!" Hartz ordered. They did indeed have to go, all of the media in the eastern United States would soon be descending upon this place.

Within two hours the same Air Force jet was taking Abel and his foster father home again. Abel slept most of the way, Grimes wouldn't be sleeping well for a long time.

----------------------------------------- The White House "I want to personally meet with that boy and thank him."

"Mister President, I would strongly advise against that. He is not what you might expect a boy to be." CIA wanted no publicity for Abel and especially for GEA.

"But he deserves...."

"To be left alone for now. If he becomes a public figure his usefulness to this country will end. Your opponents on the hill will have endless public hearings, they will accuse you of...everything."

"Still, something should be arranged for him."

"Sir, he is an asset, nothing more. A very valuable asset, but an expendable asset. Your gratitude will be conveyed to him."

Of course no such gratitude was ever conveyed.

------------------------------------------ It was early evening when Grimes and the boy finally arrived home. The rest of the family had a million questions. Grimes had long given up on trying to hide information about Abel from his family, they all knew by now to kee