Shanahan spread his arms and legs out to catch the sky. It was a desperation move and he knew it. When he hit the ground, he could only hope all of him would be in the same general area for the animals to eat.

He didn't bother second guessing his decision. He had been ready to fight. This was one of the consequences to giving chase instead of letting them take Wyndham. And he was never going to let them take Wyndham without doing something. His view of the world didn't allow it.

His move bought him time to consider his predicament. He could get lucky and hit the trees and have them cushion his fall. He had heard stories of guys surviving their chutes not opening when he was in the Corps. It had mostly been Army guys and an occasional Squid.

He couldn't remember a Marine surviving something like this. He also couldn't remember a Marine reporting contact with an enemy using tubes in the sky to fly around, or turning Manhattan into Jurassic Park. He thought he would remember something like that even with the whiskey soaked years he had been out tacked on.

The trees reached for him. The smaller branches might break off on impact, but that could slow him down so he didn't hit the ground at full speed.

That might let him live instead of hitting the grass and breaking every bone in his body.

He felt something surge inside his chest. Smoke erupted from his nose. He put it down as an aftereffect of the lightning strike. His hair still felt like it was on fire.

He hit the smaller limbs at the top of a giant tree. They broke off on impact, sending him down toward the ground. One foot hit the tree trunk. He started running down the tree trunk. He jumped the last ten feet and kept running. He slowed down to a walk as he made his way through the trees. Finally he hit one and fell to the ground. He laid on the ground and tried to recover his breath.

He laughed and cried at the same time at being alive. He pulled himself up to sit with his back to the tree. He spotted a squirrel looking at him. He shook his head. He needed to get on his feet and start after Wyndham and her abductors. When he caught up with them, he would figure out what to do to get home.

He already planned to kill everyone involved. He didn't see that changing in the immediate future. He knew the uniform, he knew three of their faces. If he came across anyone that matched the profile, he would interrogate them and kill them.

Once he had Wyndham back, he would ask her what she knew. She must know something if she went from this place to the Big Apple. After that, the priority became securing the route home and going.

He would leave it up to Wyndham if she wanted to come back with whatever enemies he left alive looking for her.

If she wanted to deal with her enemies on her own terms, he wasn't going to stop her. If she wanted, he might come back to help her finish the job.

A bullet solved as many problems as a knife.

Shanahan decided that the first step to finding Wyndham was to find the white tower they had been flying to from New York. Once he knew where that was, he could take a bearing and head for it.

Once he was at the tower, he could figure out how to get inside, kill the security teams, and get Wyndham out.

He also needed a better weapon he could use against the enemy than his push knife.

He didn't relish the fact that he might be running into a ray gun situation basically unarmed.

He picked a tree and climbed up as far as he could. He stood on the branch he had decided to be his platform. He looked around the tree, trying to peer through the leaf cover. He nodded when he spotted the tower gleaming in the distance.

He looked at his shadow. It slowly changed direction as the sun moved above. Unless he had some crazy flat earth thing going on, the direction the sun was moving was toward the white tower. All he had to do was follow it until he reached the edifice.

He climbed down from the top of the tree. He had to get moving. He didn't know how far away the tower stood, if there were other people around, or what he could hunt to eat. Movement would give him the illusion of accomplishing something immediate as he tried to close on his bigger goal.

He doubted he could blend in to the local populace with his burnt clothing and hair. If he found something to wear, he might have to take it. It wasn't like his money was any good here.

Shanahan walked for miles as the trees gave way to grassy meadows before he saw his first person. He paused when he saw the boy take off on seeing him. The boy's sheep kept grazing.

Apparently they didn't consider him that much of a threat.

Why had the boy ran? What did he know the sheep didn't?

Shanahan walked around the flock and headed across the grass to a rough road carved by the wheels of wagons, and the shoes of horses. He was close to a town now. He decided to keep going.

He needed information, food, and whiskey if they had it. He would have to work out something for a deal with the locals. If he ran into mooks, he could take one to talk to without too much of a problem.

The boy walked toward Shanahan. A man walked with him. The man had a staff, but nothing more. Their dress reminded Shanahan of hobbits. He had been forced to watch the movie in jail.

Why hadn't they taken the eagles was a question that still bugged him in some way.

“Hello,” said the man. He frowned at Shanahan's clothes. “Are you Daniel Montgomery Shanahan?”

Shanahan paused. The words were some kind of mix of Spanish and Arabic. He had a working knowledge of both from his days in the hills. So he could almost speak the local language. He realized that made his job easier and was grateful for it.

He didn't like the guy knew who he was, and what he looked like. Only seven people knew that, and he wasn't one of them. Neither was his son. Did he have to kill both of them now and fight his way out of this trap?

“The oracle said you would be untrusting and angry,” said the sheepherder. “He said to tell you that your New York is still there if you want to give up.”

“Where is the oracle?,” asked Shanahan. He put his hands in his pockets. It might stop him from doing something rash.

“He is in town,” said the sheepherder. He pointed down the road. “His wagon is on the other side.”

Shanahan nodded. He started walking. He would like to meet this oracle and find out what he knew. Then killing him would probably have to be done.

He didn't know how big an organization he was facing. Everyone was his enemy. Someone knowing he was on the way had to be from the people in the tower. There was no other explanation for it.

And they weren't walking away from this whole if he could help it.

Shanahan found the town. He paused to take it in. As far as he could tell, it was barely a stop on a map. It was a place for the locals to gather and share their products, or ship their extra to other towns on the road. He counted seven buildings on either side of the main street as he walked toward the green wagon on the other side of the town.

The locals on the street stared at Shanahan as he walked down the road. He noted their clothes belonged somewhere between an Italian Western and pictures of King Arthur. No one came out to say anything to him.

That was okay. He didn't have anything to say to them.

A tall man stepped out of the wagon. He nodded when he saw Shanahan, checking what looked like a clock set up next to his conveyance. Gray hair rested in a clip at the back of his head while his beard was braided to his chest. He wore an olive green suit of clothes to match his visitor's army surplus.

“Mister Shanahan,” he said. The voice seemed a little theatrical. The language seemed almost English but with a heavy accent like a Scot. “You are earlier than I thought. I thought I would be here another two days.”

Shanahan scratched his temple as he thought. He didn't see anyone else around. Hiding in the wagon seemed possible.

“Would you like to talk over some food?,” said the oracle. “I feel that will be more conducive to conversation than having you try to kill me.”

“Who are you first?,” said Shanahan.

“I'm Omar Renfield,” said the stranger. “I'm one of the oracles that advise people how to shape the future. When I saw your arrival, I thought we should talk before things get out of hand.”

“See the future?,” said Shanahan.

“Sometimes,” said Renfield. “This is going to require a long explanation. Once I am done, you will know enough to decide if you want to continue, or find some way to go home.”

“You cooking?,” said Shanahan. He nodded at the wagon.

“No,” said Renfield. “Among the things I am good at, and helped by my natural gift, cooking is not one of them. If we depended on my skills, we would both be drinking burned water, and black bubbles of cheese. Shall we?”

Shanahan nodded. He stepped out of the way so the other man could lead the way to one of the seven buildings that made up the town. It turned out to be a saloon/restaurant.

“I think we should sit in the back,” said Renfield. “Grandview will know you are here somewhere and will send someone to deal with you unless he thinks you're dead. We should have our talk so you can decide what you want to do, then my advice will be for you to move on so no one here has to tell Grandview's men where you went.”

Shanahan looked the place over. It wasn't busy. There were two other men in the place with them. Two waitresses seemed to be arguing who was supposed to serve them. He followed the oracle to a table in a corner where they could go out the kitchen if there was trouble.

“Don't order the soup,” whispered the oracle. “You'll be sick for a week if you do.”

Shanahan looked at him. The man smiled back at him. He didn't like the man on general principle, and felt he should kill him before things got worse.

“Don't try to kill me,” said Renfield. “It makes me irritable.”

Shanahan stared at the man until the waitress who lost the argument arrived to take their order. He got a local ale, cheese and bread. Renfield ordered three eggs, bacon, bread, cheese, and cooked potatoes.

“Quit trying to decide how you want to kill me,” said Renfield. “I'm here to advise you against Grandview's forces. When we separate, you will probably never see me again. Now I made a list of all the questions you ask so I am going to try to answer them after we eat, and point you in the direction you want to go. I must say before I advise you, that Grandview and his followers are a regional force. Trying to take him on is a bad idea.”

Shanahan glared at him.