<br/><br/><strong>Sunset, one week previous</strong><br/><br/>Mary discovered with a jolt that she felt tons lighter.  She was still going to have nightmares, that was certain, but, it would be better.  She sighed almost happily and said. "It was dead when i saw it, and the special ops guys were twitchy about anybody getting close, so I can't say for sure, but It looked more like some sort of bipedal animal to me."  She shrugged. "Different cultures, different legends, maybe something is stirring in the Gulf, too.  That's a lovely thought."<br/><br/>She fished out the figurine and stared at it again.  "No, not gonna sell this.  Gonna hang onto it.  Why?  Beats me."  She put it back in the carryall.  "I'll be around."  She stood up and went to Carrie, peeled back her eyelids one at a time and stared thoughtfully.  "Her eyes aren't rolled back in her head.  They're tracking, she's in REM sleep and that shouldn't be, not so soon after roofies."  She stared into space for a long moment, then stated "I shot you up with morphine because that's the only thing that really helps the pain of such severe burns, but you are gonna crash and crash hard."  Mary flicked her eyes over the markings at the doorway, around the windows.  "But even before I gave it to you, you guys shouldn't even have been coherent after burns like that, you shoulda been in shock."  Nash shook her head and scooped up her carryall.  "I'll check on you tomorrow, maybe again in a few days.  I'll be here next week for sure.  Lock the door behind me."<br/><br/>Mary left the building and beelined for her van. As she started the engine and drove off it occurred to  her  that a .380 wouldn't be much good against something that was already dead.  She still had the tomahawk her dad had been issued in Vietnam, he'd given it to her when she had first deployed to Iraq.<em>Time to dig the old butcher-blade out,</em>she decided.