(Cedar Wells Arizona December 5, 1996.)

Chapter one:

From various house's along the block, Mike Tyler could hear the opening theme to the Monkees tv show. It's insistent notes made him hurry his step. He'd been at the Cedar Wells library doing eighth grade history report, and consumed by the books, had lost all track of time.

Now he had to rush home, and he'd still miss at least half of the program. It wasn't his favorite show that particular honor fell to Batman but it was his favorite show on Monday night's. His mom complained that he watched too much tv these days, but he didn't understand what that even meant. How could someone watch too much tv when great show's like Star Trek, Green Acres, Lost in Space, Comb!, and The Rat patrol were on every night? Not to mention the cool spy show's, like Get Smart and Mission Impossible and the F. B. I. What bothered him was when his favorites were stacked up against each other, like The Green Hornet and The Time Tunnel on ABC Friday nights, while Tarzan and The Man From U. N. C. L. E. were on at the same time on NBC. He tried to flip back and forth sometimes, but his mom complained that he'd wear out the dial on their big Zenith. If he could figure out a way to watch one channel and then another, maybe mom would have a legitimate complaint.

The Monkees was definitely on with Mike and his buddies at school. They could tell him at school tomorrow what the story was about, but he didn't want to miss the song's. When it ended, he'd leave the set on NBC for I Dream of Jeannie, then switch over to the Rat Patrol for a little army action before getting ready for bed.

He would have been home already if he'd taken his bike, but the streets had been a little icy, and he wasn't sure how many books he might end up checking out. As it happened, he had done more of his reading at the library than he expected, and he could have managed the books in his bike's basket.

He only had another two books to cover. He'd be home in time for the second song, if not the first. If his little sister Becky had claimed the set for Gilligan's island, he would have to come up with a way to bribe or threaten her. He could almost see the house from here would be able to, except for the Johnson's, Christmas decorations, which created a glow around their house from Thanksgiving night until the Saturday after New Year's, obstructing his view of everything beyond it on their side of the street.

He was about to step off the curb to cross the last street before home when he saw almost sensed a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. Something near the back of Mrs. Izzy's house. The guys at school usually called her the creepy old lady, because she wore lots of black, sometimes with a shawl over her head, like she was in mourning. One rumor was that she'd had a son who was killed in Vietnam, but if so, it happened before she moved onto Mike's street, and he'd never had a conversation with her to find out if it was true. Neither had his mom, who wasn't a widow but was divorced from his dad, and he lived in Virginia now so it was practically the same thing.

Mike turned to see what caught his eye. It was just a guy, not much older than him. A teenager, maybe, dressed like he was coming home from a custom party. He had on a military style coat. The street lamp didn't reach quite far enough, but it looked like the coat was dark blue, with gold braid's on it. A golden stripe ran down the outside seam of his pants, which were tucked into high boots. On his head was a cowboy type hat that looked to be the same dark blue. A saber hung from his belt, and he carried a rifle.

If it was a custom, it was a heck of a good one. The thing was, he headed towards Mrs. Izzy's back door, and no one lived with Mrs. Izzy. That much Mike did know about her.

The other thing and this made him let out a gasp, against his will, because so far he didn't think the soldier had seen him was that the guy was there one instant and then he kind of flickered, like when Becky messed with the rabbit ears during one of his programs. Then he was there again, then he vanished into the shadows behind Mrs. Izzy's house.

Should I go to the front door and tell her there's someone in her backyard? he wondered. Should I call the shieriff?

Cops never listened to kids, though. Mike had been growing his hair out over the summer, and the last time he'd seen Sheriff Tait, at the swimming pool, the sheriff told him to get a haircut or wear a bathing cap. He laughed when he said it, but Mike could tell that he meant it.

He decided to run home and let his mom make the call. He started to sprint, but he was barely across the street when he heard the first scream from Mrs. Izzy's.

Mike Taylor didn't know it, but what some would come to call the forty year had already begun.

Again...