DAY ELEVEN 22:22PM

Fragrances 

Simon Light read through the police report. He sat on the desk, going through the files like he owned the world. Stone was pouring himself another cup of coffee, and taking a sip from it. It was late and he was tired. And he didn't feel like playing second fiddle to an Alphabet Man as well. A man that had apparently pulled a lot of strings and flexed a lot of muscle to waltz into a police station and tell the chief to take a breath of fresh air. 

"Eff-Bee-Eye," he muttered after taking a sip from the coffee mug. "Those bastards hear a rumour that a potential terrorist farts and they close down a city."

"Take it easy, Stone," Riveta warned him. "Piss a fellow like that off and he could bust your ass down to metermaid." 

"I don't look good in a skirt," Stone muttered before taking another sip.

Riveta chuckled. 

Simon stopped at a photo and focused in on the face off to one side. His eyes narrowed to study the face closely and a smile widened on his robot-like face. The smile made him seem not friendly, but menacing.

"Detective." Simon took the photo and dropped the rest of the file onto the desk, spilling some of the contents about. Simon saw that Stone and Riveta were approaching. 

"Find something?" Riveta inquired. Her curiosity was piqued; it had to be in order for her to continue without falling asleep.

"Where was this photo taken?" Simon asked. He held the photo in his hands like it was an ancient artifact and he was afraid to get it dirty. 

"Yesterday," Riveta said. "We always have a photographer get a few crowd shots on the off chance that the criminal returns to admire his handy work."

"You recognize a face?" Stone asked. He leaned forward to peer at the photo. 

"The woman there." Light pointed at a Japanese woman who appeared to be in her 30's.

"Is she dangerous?" Stone inquired. He couldn't see the dangerous look about her. He'd been on the force for 22 years and he had come to be a good judge of character. 

"Suki Fujimoria," Light said as he stared at the woman. "She's suppose to be dead."

DAY ELEVEN 21:04PM

Roadtrip  

Alice looked up at the stars. "I think I should call him." 

Donnelly added another stick to the campfire. They had the grounds to themselves - not many people were camping this time of year. There were seven tents in total, some scrounged, some bought hurriedly, different sizes, and some people were sleeping in their cars. It was the fourth time Alice had said she was going to call Max, but each time she hadn't. He had made it clear that he would reach them once he had finished up. They were only to call him if it was an emergency. The last six days had felt like one long emergency. The weight of the handgun was heavy in the reverend's coat pocket. He had had nightmares about the ritual every night since it had happened.

Susanna was singing some children to sleep in the large blue tent. 

Alice wasn't very old in terms of the calendar, but she had many different worlds behind her, passed through like the rings in a tree trunk. She had brought most of them together. It fell to him and others, like Susanna and Hank, to keep them together. Sometimes they would lose some to a shift - maybe they had lost many, but lost their memories of them too when the world had changed and changed again. Donnelly knew Alice felt responsible. Maybe even guilty in a way.

He had spent many nights reassuring her. Reminding her that her gift was helping people. He wanted to reassure her now, but he knew things were different this time. That they hadn't shifted, but that the world had changed. His words didn't mean the same thing anymore. The church didn't mean the same thing. Now that they had learned about LEGACY. 

It hurt her to think that somehow she had been serving the goals of evil men. But she clearly trusted Max's assessment; that's why they were here, out of the city, on the run. Not everyone did; there were many who still marked the start of the troubles with Max's arrival. And they weren't exactly wrong. He had asked Alice why she had decided to trust Max; her answer had been a strange one. She said that he had written out a list of names, to see if she knew any of them. The fourth name on the list had been her mother's nickname when she was younger. 'Angst'.

Donnelly supposed his own reason wasn't any less strange. He had faith in Max. 

Alice looked down at the fire. "Maybe I should call him."