Challenge of the Phoenix

Sydney awoke to her phone ringing. Reaching over groggily, she flipped on the audio only. "Yes? Who is it?"

"Sydney? It's Andrew. Get up and get over here right away! I need you to take a look at something."

"Andrew, it's four o'clock. Can't it wait?"

"No, Sydney, get over here. I'll call the district to let them know you're coming through. I want you here ASAP."

Andrew disconnected, and Sydney flopped over on her back with a groan. Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of bed and tried to smooth her wrinkled clothes. She gave up. A quick shower refreshed her and she tied her hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. Only the lightest of make-up was used, to lighten the dark circles under her eyes and she carefully chose a pair of slacks and a light sweater. She wanted to be more comfortable than stylish, but she was afraid too much comfort might put her to sleep. Besides, it wouldn't do to show up looking like she just got out of bed.

She checked on Libby before she left, peering inside the room cautiously. She smiled gently, deciding instead to leave a note rather than wake her daughter. Moments later, she backed her car out of the drive and headed to work. Three times policemen stopped her, and that was still within the neighborhood. Although irritated by the delays, Sydney was curious to know why the security had been increased so drastically in the few hours since she'd last driven through the city. And if the police were bad, the security guards at the military base were even worse. They scanned both her and her car thoroughly, even calling her office to check out her I.D.

"Is this really necessary?" Sydney asked as they waited for someone to pickup on the other end of the line.

"Yes, ma'am," the MP informed her. "We've had reports of unusual behavior in the area."

Sydney shivered in the cool breeze, muttering to herself that 'MP' certainly couldn't stand for military police. At last the permission was given and the MPs waved her through. Driving across the installation, she was hardly surprised, after her greeting at the entrance, to see the whole base out on alert. Armed and alert, the troops patrolled the streets, giving Sydney and her car dark looks. She was heartily relieved to pull into her parking space and retreat indoors. Or, she tried to enter, but the doors were locked.

"What the hell is going on?" Sydney demanded of the first person she saw.

"Excuse me ma'am," said the MP, but we're required to search everyone who looks even a bit suspicious."

Sydney ground her teeth together, thinking, Andrew, if you don't somehow miraculously appear, I am definitely going to have to kill you the next time I see you!

"Excuse me, please."

Thank God.

The MP stepped back. "Colonel, do you know this woman?"

The balding Mexican-American officer smiled. "I do indeed. She works here."

"I will need proof of that."

"Of course. Sydney, you do have your badge?"

Sydney showed the little, plastic card with its barcode to the MP. He scanned the code and nodded, the formalities concluded. "Have a good night, sir, ma'am."

Andrew took Sydney by the arm. "You have got to see this!" he whispered once they were inside and the door locked behind them.

Sydney followed her boss silently, fuming, as they continued down the hall to the secured portions of the building. They entered their security codes silently, riding the elevator in further silence, broken only by the gruff voice of the MP as they entered the top-secret facility. Sydney submitted to yet another scan, trying not to let her annoyance and exasperation explode into anger. I'm just tired, she reasoned.

Outside, the place was dead quiet, but inside the place hummed from the various machines and the lilt of excited voices. Andrew escorted Sydney to her station, eagerly waiting to see her reaction. Sydney was now caught by the same excitement and curiosity as the other scientists and engineers. She reflected bitterly as her terminal booted up, that she must have been the last one brought in.

Any other feelings except amazement and confusion vanished as she took in the data appearing on her screen. She stared at the graphs and patterns, trying vainly to assign some meaning to them. "What is this?" she asked her boss.

He grinned, enjoying her astonishment. Then he shrugged, all business. "We don't know for sure, Sydney, but it appears that something," he pointed to her screen, "or someone is destroying those bombs."

"Satellite?"

Andrew shook his head. "Inconclusive. Something is interfering with the transmission."

"When did it start?"

"We were first alerted to something happening about three hours ago. It took almost two hours to conclude that it was real, not some joke or glitch."

"Can we do anything to see what is going on out there?"

"You're the expert, you tell me. The only reason we can even see this," he tapped the computer, "is by using your heat-sensing probes, and you know they're defective."

Sydney was quickly putting things together. "They failed," she said slowly, "to be productive in the initial experiment, but perhaps they won't be a total loss." She regarded her data critically. "If I reprogrammed the probes to look for smaller targets, and widened their search pattern, perhaps we can make some sense out of this information."

"Well, I'll leave you to it."

"Andrew," her voice stopped him, "these probes are the work of two lifetimes. I can't make this work overnight. And if I do . . . "

Andrew smiled, nodding. "I understand. But think what good this can do. The potential to see past our own moon! Perhaps out as far as Jupiter."

Sydney sighed. "Yes, but you know how I feel about the military using my work."

"Sydney, we have to see what is going on out there."

"Colonel!" one of the young captains cried, "it's stopping!"

He strode through the maze of computers and machinery, Sydney a step behind. The young man gestured toward his screen. "Look, the explosions I've been tracking are gone."

"Sir, I'm getting a clearer view on the satellite-link."

"Patch it through, lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

The fuzzy image was not helpful. "Can you clean it up any?" Andrew asked.

"Sorry, sir, it's the best I can do."

"Look," Sydney pointed, her eyes catching a hint of movement. "Can you enlarge that portion?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "The image would be too distorted to make any sense out of at all."

"What is it you see?" asked Andrew.

Sydney shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it's gone now."

"The picture is coming in clearer now, sir, the interference is fading."

The small group watched the image come into sharp focus, revealing nothing more than debris.

"That's a lot of junk for a bunch of bombs," commented someone.

"Scan that, as best you can," Andrew instructed. "See what you can make of it.

Lieutenant, replay the records of those last few minutes and see if you can't figure out what was going on."

"Yes, sir."

"Colonel, I'm getting a reading on those other bombs."

"What is it?"

"They're all gone. My instruments show no unfriendlies, sir."

Andrew shook his head. "Impossible. Check again."





Mack pulled the four robots and their occupants back as soon as the alerts for the fire medium started ringing. He transported Nik directly to his cylinder, activating the emergency power-down. Anxiously he waited with the others until the exhausted young man exited.

"Nik," said Ace, hugging him impulsively. "You scared me half-to-death!"

Terry heaved a giant sigh of relief, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Nik nodded, a big grin belying his weariness. "You've got to admit, guys, that that was cool!"

"It sure was!" Libby agreed, trembling with reaction. She'd thought for sure that Nik would slam into that fragment.

Mack clapped Nik on the back. "Quite a show, young man. Now how about I send you all home?"

"What about these?" Terry asked, tugging on a pink sleeve.

"Keep them, they may come in handy."

Nik managed a couple of shaky steps before Ace unceremoniously hefted him to her shoulders. "Hey," she said when he protested, "you deserve a hero's ride. Don't all heroes get to ride on their teammates' shoulders?"

"Perhaps it would be terrific," Terry said with a grin, "if you weren't quite so tall, Ace."

The tall girl gazed for a moment at the door. As it stood, the door would clip Nik off at chest-level. She shrugged, "Not to worry, guys, you're looking at the person who won the limbo in fifth grade."

Nik's eyes widened as Ace began to lean. "Um, Ace, really, I can walk from here. Ace!"

To all their disbelief, Ace managed to make it to the other side, Nik still firmly in place. She pirouetted, a wide grin on her face, "See, I could do it!"

Libby burst out laughing, her tension draining away.

"I'd best get you home, kids. Nik, you first, you're practically asleep all ready."

Nik gratefully stepped into the beam, barely getting the chance to blink before suddenly finding himself standing in his own bedroom. He shucked off the pink clothes, stuffing them under his bed. He pulled on his p.j.'s and crawled into bed.

He woke to another argument. He could hear the raised voices, although not what was said. Nik turned his head, to meet his half-brother's worried gaze. The six-year-old looked ready to cry. Swiftly, Nik eased out of bed. He sat next to his brother, putting an arm around his shoulders.

But Marcus flinched away from his touch, sliding away, his eyes widening in fear.

Nik froze, startled. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Marcus stared at the older boy, unsure, confused, and uncomfortable. His lips trembled when he spoke. "Daddy, Daddy said, he said you're bad, Nik."

Nik slid off the bed, numb inside. Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked away. He was tired, too tired and exhausted to deal with this. The hurt, the betrayal, was overriding his common sense.

Marcus' voice penetrated his thoughts. "Nik? Nik, don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Nik said softly, turning back to his brother. "Just very sad."

"Sad?"

Nik nodded. Then he forced on a smile. "But it's not to worry, Marcus. Why don't you go wish Mom and Dad a good morning?"

"They won't be mad at me?"

Nik shook his head, keeping his smile with effort. "The one thing they'll never be mad about is you, Marcus. Go on, I'm going back to bed."

Marcus climbed out of bed and to the door. He looked back at Nik, now sitting on his bed. Nik nodded, smiling in encouragement.

" 'Morning Dad. 'Morning Mom," the little voice said, chipper and happy as he stepped into the hall.

The older Wilks suspended their argument to greet the child and Nik sighed in relief. Pulling the covers over his head, he flopped over into his pillow. He closed his eyes, tried to relax, but sleep wouldn't come. Finally, Nik decided to get up. He stayed in the shower until the water turned cold, enjoying the blast of water against his sore muscles. Once out, he could no longer delay entering the kitchen. His stomach rumbled greedily at the smell of fresh pancakes. Little Marcus sat chomping away, his father reading the paper and sipping his orange juice. Nik's heart sank. So his mother had first shift today.

"Good morning," Nik said with forced cheer.

"Look, Nik," Marcus mumbled around his breakfast, "pancakes!"

"There's some still on the stove."

Nik tried not to let his stepfather's attitude get to him. He hadn't changed, not in the years he'd known the man, but still, Nik couldn't help but wish, just once, that he wouldn't have to feel like a stranger in his own house. He grabbed a plate and dropped a couple of the pancakes on it. They were cold. The next second, he nearly dropped the plate as the heat radiated from the now very hot pancakes. Wordlessly, Nik clumped over to the table and sat down. He poured on the syrup, but despite his hunger, he couldn't seem to eat.

"I'm going to Roger's house," Marcus said, licking one finger. "He's got a brand-new racing car."

"Perhaps some day," Dale Wilks said with a smile for the child. He glanced at the other boy, ruthlessly stabbing his pancakes and looking so unhappy. God knows the boy had never hurt any of them. But still, Dale couldn't help feel awkward and uncertain around the boy. If he had thought about it a little deeper, he might have realized he feared the boy's strange abilities, but he sidestepped that accusation. He loved Anne so much he had agreed to accept the boy, despite the pressure to send the boy away. Now the thought of the divorce was like a physical pain. But he couldn't have his son grow up in this atmosphere of hostility. He quickly looked back at his paper as the boy looked up. The boy had an uncanny way of looking at him that unnerved Dale. Why must such evil be hidden behind such innocence?

Nik looked at the man who'd married his mother. He was handsome, just like his son, with that curly blonde hair and blue eyes. He was a lighter tan at this part of the year, but the summer would soon remedy that. He was so tall, too, that he made Nik feel inferior whenever they were in the same room. Being a fireman had kept him in shape so that he appeared younger than his almost forty years. This was his second marriage, too. His first wife died shortly after they were married. He'd dated Nik's mother for years before marrying her. Strangely enough, Nik had brought them together. Dale had decided to marry Anne to protect her, though why Dale believed that escaped Nik altogether.

Nik's glance slid back to his mangled pancakes and, disgusted, he pushed them away.

"What're you going to do today, Nik?" Marcus asked. "Want to come to Roger's with me?"

Nik smiled, warmed by the offer. "No, Marcus, why don't you go along without me? I'll be fine here."

"Can I go, Daddy?" Marcus asked, wiggling with eagerness.

Dale ruffled his son's hair. "Sure, go ahead, Squirt. Have fun."

Mom would have made him brush his teeth first, Nik thought as the kid raced off and out the door. He sighed softly and collected the dishes, scraping the plates before placing them in the dishwasher. He threw out the leftover pancakes, putting away the extra plate and silverware. Mom must have been upset. She didn't eat. Distractedly, Nik wiped off the counter and stove, washing the mixing bowls and spoon quietly. Done, he stepped out onto the balcony, staring down at the other apartments. Dale had gotten them this place, had put in the extra insulation and other protections insisted on by the owner and manager, and convinced the neighbors not to leave. He leaned against the railing and looked back over his shoulder at the man who'd married his mother. What would they do without him?

Dale looked up from his paper when the phone rang. He answered it, thrown off for a minute when he didn't recognize the caller. "This is the Wilks residence. Can I help you?"

The girl smiled brightly. "Hi, I'm Libby. Is Nik there?"

He nodded automatically. "Yes, yes he is. I'll get him."

Nik jumped when Dale scratched on the screen door. "Phone."

Nik nodded, going inside. He smiled at the face on the screen. "Hi, Libby, what's up?"

Dale grabbed his juice and paper and moved into the adjacent room. The small apartment didn't allow much in the way of privacy, but he didn't want to listen to the conversation, however much he was curious. He looked over his paper at the boy, talking animatedly with that girl, Libby. Who was she? She didn't appear the least bit nervous to be calling. Usually, only two people called for the boy. They were both considered freaks. Dale tried to discourage them from calling and lately only the boy, Terry, called. Surely, Anne's boy was different, but he wasn't like the other two. Shaking his head, he returned to his paper. He'd ask Frank to check up on her when he went in to work his shift.

"Are you sure?" Nik asked.

"Of course, Nik. It was all over the news this morning. The bombs are gone! All of them, destroyed." She made a face. "And school is back tomorrow."

"Have you worked on Mrs. Nielsen's assignment yet?"

"Yeah, I have it partly done."

"I'm finished. Did it yesterday."

Libby groaned. "How could you be finished all ready, Nik?"

Nik glanced aside at Dale. "I had a lot of time yesterday," he mumbled. He changed the subject. "Have you called Terry about the bombs?"

"Yeah, he wasn't home. His brother said Terry went in to the University early this morning."

"Oh."

"I've been wondering, Nik, what is it that Terry studies? He's always over at the University."

Nik shrugged. "I don't know. He'd have to tell you."

"Aren't you even curious?"

"Look, Libby, it's not that I'm not curious, or don't care, it's just that, well, we try to stay out of each other's business."

"Why?"

Nik was uncomfortable. "Well, it's, we've just never talked about it."

"But you're friends, we're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"Then how come you never invite me to your house or meet your family?"

"Because, just because. I've got to go, Libby, I've got chores."

"Oh, okay." Libby tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Bye."

"Bye." Nik hung up with mixed feelings. He was relieved, kind of, but also worried that he might have offended her somehow. He had been rude, but he just wasn't comfortable talking about his, er, problems. It was bad enough he had that shrink poking into his head 'most every day.

"Is something wrong?"

Nik looked up at his stepfather, surprised. "No, nothing's wrong. Libby wanted to tell me that the UF got rid of the bombs. Apparently it was all over the news this morning."

"It was. I had the radio turned up. Surprised you didn't hear."

Nik was amazed. Was he really having a conversation with his stepfather? "She also said we have school tomorrow," he said cautiously.

"Hmmm, yes."

And that was it; the conversation was over. But Nik wasn't unhappy. He wandered into his room. He planned the showing of the clean room to Dale and his mother, imagining their surprised looks and how he would feel. He sorted and stored and threw out and was being so quiet about it that Dale, finished with his paper, got up to look for the boy. He knocked on the boys' door, poking his head into the room. Nik, surrounded by several different piles, looked up, uncertain whether to invite the man in or ask him to leave. Dale gazed around the room, rather surprised the boy was cleaning it without being asked, and also suspicious. What was he hiding? Nik waited, breathless, for some kind of reaction.

"Needs work," Dale said and withdrew.

Nik was crushed. Dale's words seemed to echo around the room as if mocking him. He stared at the outgrown clothes in his hands. Without even a conscious thought, the shirt exploded into fire in his hands. Startled by the instantaneous change, Nik dropped the garment, his spinning thoughts too chaotic to even think about Dr. Headman's tactics to reverse the fire. Ashamed at the outburst and not wanting Dale to find out, Nik did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed the tiny shirt, smothering the flames against the carpet.

"Out, out, out, out," he found himself whispering and the fire obeyed! Staring at the ruined shirt in his blistered hands, Nik couldn't hold back the tears. "Why do I keep doing this?" he moaned. "Why does this happen to me? Just when I thought I'll never do it again . . . "

It was a long time before Nik could quell his outburst. He returned to his cleaning job, but the eagerness to get it done was gone. He worked to keep his mind off the fire and off his hands. It took all day to clean the room. Nik swept and dusted, and scrubbed the carpet's new stain. Nik filled the laundry basket and three paper bags full of old, worn out, or outgrown clothes. Nik stacked the bags in the closet and replaced the sheets on his and Marcus' beds. Nik eventually had nothing else to do. He stared around the clean room and the place suddenly seemed so much bigger. The two beds against opposite walls, the computer shoved in a corner between the old dresser and the shelves full of Marcus' remote controlled cars. In the room that was left held the closet and the bookshelf that was stuffed to overflowing. Shelves on the wall held games and old toys and the few things Nik could call his own. Under his bed, Nik's bag of baseball gear had its own place next to the laundry basket and a box full of assorted shoes, skates, and winter boots.

Nik sat down on the floor, fingering the new stain. He sighed, leaning against his bed. His hands hurt.

Someone knocked on the door. Anne stepped into the room. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "It looks great in here." She noticed Nik didn't even look up. Going farther into the room, she saw the new stain. "Oh, Nik," she dropped to his side, sitting next to him. She put an arm around his shoulders, just sitting for a few moments. Then she sat up, taking her son by the wrist. "Come on, kiddo, let’s put something on those hands of yours." She led her son into the bathroom, spraying the red and blistered hands. Done, she tilted his head up to look at her. "Nik, it's okay. The rug is old; it can take it. You're really much better. What do you say we go out to eat tonight? I can ask Sally to watch Marcus."

"What about Dale?"

"He had to go to work. Come on, what do you say? First night out since the bombing . . . "

Nik looked up at his mom. She seemed so much older lately. And she was trying so hard to keep their family together, despite the divorce. But Nik remembered the wreck dinner had turned into the last time they ate at a restaurant.

"We can get pizza," Anne coaxed. It hurt her to see her son like this. She didn't know what to do to help him.

Nik tried to smile. "Really, Mom, it's okay. I'd rather not go out. Why don't I make something? You've been working and it's late."

"I've been working?" Anne didn't have to feign surprise. She motioned around her. “You've been busy, too, young man. Come on, I'm dying for a chillicheese dog with sauerkraut and root beer."

Nik grimaced. "Do we have to go there?"

Anne laughed. "Good Lord, no, I'm back on duty tomorrow. Early."

Nik caught his mother's eye. "Dale called you to come home early and switch with him, didn't he?"

Anne sighed. "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid. He thought something must have happened."

"Why can't he ask me himself, Mom? Why am I -- why can't he -- oh, never mind." Nik felt disastrously close to tears again.

Anne brushed some hair out of Nik's face. "Oh, baby, I don't know. He does care; he just has a hard time showing it. I know he worries about you."

"That's not true!" Nik wailed. "He doesn't even like me! He h-hates me! Everyone hates me!"

Anne wavered. She wanted to comfort her son, but she was afraid he would pull away. Nik mistook the look on her face.

"You're afraid of me too," he muttered, desolated. A lone tear trickled down his cheek. He wiped it away angrily.

"No, no, Nik, I don't fear you," Anne said hastily, now frightened. What had she said wrong?

"Well, I don't care if you do hate me! What's one more person? You would still be with my father if I hadn't been born! You hate that! It's what you and Dale are always fighting about! Who has to keep me! Well, I'll make it easy for you! I won't let me ruin everything! Marcus needs you -- he needs a family. I don't! I've never had a family!"

Nik pushed past his astonished mother, fleeing down the narrow corridor and out into the hall. He ran down the stairs heedlessly, hurtling past three girls standing in the way.

"There he goes!" sneered one.

"The freak from upstairs," said another.

"Go on, get out of here!" shouted the other one as Nik vanished down another flight of stairs.



Anne tried to follow her son. Marcus bolted out of the neighbor's apartment, shrieking. "Mommy! You're home!"

"Please, Marcus, not now!" She halted after taking a few more steps. Turning around, she dropped to kneel beside her younger son. "I'm sorry, Marcus," she said, hugging him. "Your brother is upset. Will you go back to Roger's mom and ask her if you can spend the night? Please, Mommy has to go find Nik."

"I can help, Mommy. I'm a big kid, too."

She smiled at her son. "Yes, you are, which is why I need you here. If Nik comes home before I get back, I need you to call me."

"Can I call Daddy?"

"When I get home, sure, then you can call Daddy."

"Oh, boy. Wait 'til I tell Roger!"

"Wait, Marcus, I need you to not tell Roger, okay? You're a big boy now, right?"

"A secret, Mommy?"

"A game, sweetheart. I'll be back soon. Promise."

"Okay."

Anne kissed his sweet, solemn face. "I'm counting on you."

She ran into the elevator, but by the time she reached the ground floor, Nik was long gone. She searched the streets by foot, but with the park destroyed, she didn't know where he would run. At last, with nightfall, she reluctantly had to turn back. Sally, Roger's mom, met her inside her apartment.

"Marcus insisted on sleeping in his own bed," she said, rising. "No luck?"

Anne shook her head, fighting back despair. "I don't even know where to look, Sally. He was so upset tonight."

"I'm sure he'll come back, Anne."

"I'm not so sure. He thinks he's why Dale and I are getting divorced."

"Is he right?"

"Sally!"

"Well, is he?"

Anne melted onto the sofa, hiding her face in her hands. Looking up, she nodded slowly, biting her lip in agitation. "Dale's never been comfortable around Nik. He, I know he loves me, but I guess, I don't know, Sal. I wanted this to work. Nik needs a father."

Sally sat down next to her friend and neighbor. "You think he only married you because of Marcus."

She shook her head. "No, I know he didn't. But he has stayed for Marcus. Oh, Sally, what am I to do? I don't want to lose my son! But if this marriage breaks up, they, they . . . "

Sally hugged her friend, letting her cry for a bit. "There," she said after a bit, “enough of that. Nik needs you, not here sobbing. Why don't you call Dale and tell him what's happened. I'll help you search, if you like. Is there anyone else who might help?"

Anne shook her head helplessly, blotting at the tears on her face. "I don't think so. He doesn't have many friends." She stood, going over to the phone. "Thank you, Sally."

Sally waited while Anne contacted Dale at the fire station where they both worked. He took one look at her tear-stained face and put that together with what he knew of the boy.

"Don't worry, Anne," he tried to comfort her. "I'll be home right away and we can both look."

"Really, Dale, I know how much we need the money."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about that. Focus on finding our son."

Anne gasped. " 'Our son,' " she echoed. "Do you mean that?"

Dale sighed. He couldn't hide his feelings from her. "I'm not sure, Anne. Sometimes we seem really close, then others, I don't know. The truth is I don't know if I want to be his father. I've lived with him for seven and a half years, watched him even longer. I don't want that stress anymore."

Anne felt the tears threatening again. The truth hurts sometimes. "Why didn't you just say that?" she asked softly.

"I didn't want to hurt you, or upset the boy. I didn't know how he would react."

"I love you, Dale, I don't want to lose you. You've meant the world to Nik and me."

"Look, can we talk about this later? I've got to talk to the boss and get home. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Once Dale hung up, Anne dialed the Stone's. To her relief, Terry answered.

"Mrs. Wilks?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Terry, Nik has run away. Will you help me look for him?"

"I'll have to ask my parents. Hold on a minute." Terry padded down the hall to the living room of their small house. "Mom, Dad? Mrs. Wilks needs my help to find Nik. Can I go?"

"Has he run off, then?"

"Yes, Dad, that's what she said."

"It's so late, and you have school tomorrow."

"Oh, Mom, Nik's my friend. He has to be pretty upset to run off like this."

"Go ahead, Terry, I'll drive you over."

"You'll help, Dad?"

"Yes, go tell her we'll lend a hand."

"Thanks, Dad."

Terry ran back to the phone. "We're on our way over, Mrs. Wilks. My Dad and I are going to help."

"Thank you, Terry. And thank your dad too."

Next, Anne called the Easton's. "Hello, Marsha, is your daughter available tonight?"

Marsh Easton stared at the other woman's teary face. "What's wrong, Anne?"

"Nik has run away, I need to find him."

"Of course! Have you called the police?"

"I can't do that," Anne said, "I don't want to scare him."

"Scare who, Mom?" Ace asked, entering the kitchen.

"Your friend Nik has run away."

"Oh, no! Is he all right?"

"He was pretty upset, Ace," Anne answered.

"Please, Mom, can I help?"

"Well, I --"

"Thanks, Mom! I'm coming over right away, Mrs. Wilks." Ace raced back to her room to change clothes.

After hanging up with Mrs. Easton, Anne tried to think. Who else might help her? She had to find her son quickly, before she had to report him missing. If that happened, the fire department and the police would all be notified and hunting for Nik. She couldn't let that happen. Then the Welfare agency would be able to push forward their claim that Nik was dangerous and had to be institutionalized. They'd almost won once. She couldn't let that happen again.

Anne let Sally fix coffee, sitting on the edge of her seat until her husband returned. She flew into his arms when he finally came through the door. He returned her embrace warmly, stepping back from the doorway. "Anne, I'd like you to meet Frank Wilder, our new Investigator."

Anne forced herself to shake the strange man's hand. "Are you here to help?"

"Sure am. I've heard a lot about young Nik."

"I'll bet," Anne muttered under her breath.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Excuse me?" Terry interrupted before Nik's mother could respond, "I'm here, Mrs. Wilks, and I called my friend Libby to help, too. She and her mom are on their way. Is Ace coming?"

"Ace is right here," she replied cheerily, despite the hulking police officer by her elbow. "This is Tanya, my bodyguard. My social worker has a real life."

The policewoman barely flinched. "Pleased to be of help."

"You've still got to tell them," Terry asked, flicking a finger at the police officer, “whenever you go out?"

Ace made a face. "After dark I do, unless I'm with my mom and this time, Carla declined the invitation to follow me around all night." She shrugged. "I still want to help."

"Of course, Ace," Anne said quickly, "I appreciate that. I'm really worried. I don't know where he could be."




Nik ran blindly. He was angry and hurt and he didn't know where to turn. He couldn't think of anything except how hurt and angry he felt. Tears streamed down his face as he ran. Only the stitch in his side slowed him down. His run gradually turned into a jog, then to a walk. Soon, Nik could not think of being angry or hurt, but only how tired he was. Now, looking around, Nik also realized that he was completely lost. He stopped under a street sign. It was not one he recognized.

Mom must be frantic, he thought, a chill of fear brushing him. He shivered in the cold, rubbing his hands together. Nik wandered down the street, looking for a main street he recognized.

He stepped around a corner and saw the police car. Nik froze. The police! His eyes narrowed in anger. So, Mom called the police. I can't trust anyone!

Nik spun on his heel, heading back the way he'd come. He ducked into an alley to avoid a passing car. Peering out, he wondered where all the people were. The bombs are gone. Libby said so. Then where is everyone? He leaned against the building, thinking. Mack could find me, I know he could. What about Libby and Terry and Ace? Would they look for me? Why bother call my friends, the police no doubt have me covered. Nik scowled, huddling against the wall. The stench and the cold finally drove him out and he walked, little caring where his feet led him. He shivered in his light shirt and jeans and soon he limped from a blister on his foot. In the dark he was even more lost than before and now he began to feel more and more afraid. Here in the dark, deserted street, no one would know what became of him. Should anyone find him, he had no protection.

Nik detoured into another alley, avoiding the police car coming down the street. Nik wandered, shivering, looking for a place out of the wind. Not finding one, he kept walking, striving to stay away from anyone he happened to see.
I'm so cold, so cold . . .

The more Nik walked the colder and more lost he became. But he didn't dare stop, for fear someone, anyone, might find him. He feared even more of causing a fire and so he suffered in the cold, not even daring to think of anything warm. That was what Dr. Headman told him to do.

"Keep any thoughts of fires or heat out of your mind, Nik. Thinking about it causes it to happen."

So Nik trudged along in the darkening night that grew colder with every step. How he longed to see a friendly face!



" . . . And citizens are advised to stay inside their homes this evening as Phoenix Wilks, the pyrotechnic child, is on the loose. He may be dangerous. If you see him, dial the police department immediately."

"How can they say that?" Libby demanded. She switched off the radio, aggravated. “Is that true?" she asked her mother.

Sydney shrugged. "I don't know, hon."

"What does it mean?"

"Well, pyro means fire, so perhaps it has something to do with that."

Mack said that Nik could start fires just by thinking about it! Libby thought. No wonder the police are so interested. She glanced at her watch distractedly. Eight-forty-five. Forty-five minutes and no sign of Nik. If someone didn't find him soon, the police would take over. Tanya had made that perfectly clear. Time was limited.




When Nik first saw the pink-clad figure he thought he was imagining things. But after a few more steps, he then thought it might be Terry or Ace or Libby. With a smile, he started to jog, then run to catch up.

"Hey, Terry, wait up!"

The figure turned around and Nik stopped dead in his tracks. An alien! For a long moment, they stared at each other. The alien brought up an arm, aiming what looked like a gun at Nik.

Still, he could not run. He could only stand there, staring. His teeth chattered and he shivered, but he couldn't move. The alien fired.

Nik collapsed, his muscles too relaxed now to support any movement. But now Nik could think again and he focused on the alien, thinking all the warm thoughts he could muster. The alien approached. Still Nik could not summon the fire. The alien fired another weapon and Nik's world turned dark.

He woke groggily sometime later. Daylight shone on his face from the tiny window. He rubbed his eyes, looking around. He thought maybe he was in the aliens' broom closet. Cautiously, he sat up, his empty stomach protesting. His head spun and Nik moaned softly. He went to the door, but it refused to open. Nik turned to regard the window. He carefully climbed up the nearest set of shelves, straining to get a look outside. Unfortunately, Nik was not very experienced in this sort of thing and the shelves were not built to support this kind of activity. One of Nik's 'steps' snapped, sending him tumbling to the floor, the shelves unceremoniously dumping their contents on top in an ear-splitting clatter of sound.

The door opened then, the alien dragging Nik out of his mess by the back of his T-shirt. Nursing a headache and bruises on top of his nausea, Nik let himself be dragged into the corridor. He was then pushed and prodded into another room.



"You bring me a child!" the Faren roared, scowling down at the human.

The Paren bowed. "Your honor," it pleaded, "this human child saw me!"

The Faren looked closer at the human. "Indeed. Interesting."

"What do you want?" Nik asked, staring at the man.

The Faren recoiled. "It speaks!"

"Of course I talk. And I don't think this is very funny. I want to go home!"

The Faren waved at the human disgustedly. "Take it away. Put it with the others."

"The others, your honor?"

"You are right. Give it to Grakmeem. Perhaps this gift will ease his distress over his misplaced formula."

"Yes, your honor. Right away."

Nik didn't understand exactly what was going on and he wasn't about to leave before finding out. "Wait!"

The Faren signaled. "What, human-child."

"Why do you call me that? Don't you know who I am?"

"You are human."

"So are you."

"We appear as you see us to be."

"Riddles, again? You sound just like Mack."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"You said Muagk!"

"No, Mack. You wouldn't know him."

"Know him!" the Faren thundered. He turned almost purple with rage. "That traitor! Scum! Thief!"

Nik took an involuntary step backward at the man's outburst. His unthinking movement caused him to brush up against the skinny guy who had brought him here. Nik looked up at him. The man was cold, colder than ice.

"What are you?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"We are the Riez," the Faren rumbled. "And you, human-child, will tell me all you know of Muagk."

Nik felt himself beginning to freeze up again. He couldn't look away from his captor's gaze. Volcanoes, hot chocolate, Dale's chilli, Hawaii, the oven baking cookies, Nik thought. Matches, campfires . . . it's not working!

"Where is Muagk?" the Faren purred.

"I don't know." The words were ripped from Nik's mouth. He couldn't prevent himself from speaking. Nik clamped down on his tongue, biting down as hard as he could. The flare of pain gave him another idea as his captor asked another question.

"Where did you meet Muagk?"

"In the dark." That was the truth, at least. His tongue still smarting, Nik remembered the heat he'd felt when he started that fire in his room. He brought the moment back in his mind, trying to remember how he'd done it. "That's it!" in his excitement, Nik spoke aloud, startling the aliens. Instead of fighting, Nik surrendered. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"What is he doing?" the Faren demanded. "How could he break the hypnosis?"

The Paren retreated a few steps.

When Nik opened his eyes, they glowed red for a few minutes.

"Who are you?" the Faren asked.

"I am called Phoenix!" Nik lifted a hand toward the lead alien. "You. You shall be destroyed."

The Paren backed up so swiftly, he ran into the wall. He couldn't take his eyes off of the Faren, swallowed up in a pillar of flame. He opened his mouth in a wordless scream.

Nik dropped his arm, exhausted. He couldn't believe it. He'd just done a
controlled burn! For once, he had been the master of the flame. The alien's scream resounded in his head, aggravating his headache and making his ears ring. All thoughts of his victory vanished as he crumbled in on himself. That noise! That awful, awful, keening, piercing sound!

The Taren reacted immediately to the Paren's wail for help. They rushed to his aide, storming through the doorway. What they saw pulled them up short. A single, human-child was the cause of the Paren's distress?

"Paren, what is the problem?" asked the head Taren.

The Paren closed his mouth with a snap. He pointed at the human-child. "It killed the Faren!" he gasped.

When the Taren looked at the human-child, its mouth dropped open in silent laughter. “One, human-child?" it asked, amused. "Clearly, Paren, you misunderstood."

"Sieze it!" the Paren snapped. "Give it to Grakmeem at once."

The Taren grabbed the child, telling its squad to return to duty. He dragged the unresisting child to the Garen's laboratory.

"Yes, Tuok?" Grakmeem asked, looking up from one of his experiments.

"The Honorable Paorvc sends this human-child. He claims it killed the Faren."

The Garen was intrigued. "A human-child? Very well, Tuok, leave it."

"I did kill him," Nik said as the door shut behind the other alien. "I'll kill you, too."

"Indeed." The Garen studied the specimen. "Odd," he mused, "it knows our language."

"You're the one who knows my language."

The Garen leaned forward, taking a closer look. "Indeed." He reached out and plucked a hair from Nik's head.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?" Nik rubbed his head.

The Garen turned away, placed the hair in a vial for safekeeping. He purred softly to himself as he went back to his experiment.

Nik glared at the alien who looked vaguely like Einstein. When the alien didn't turn around, Nik decided to get out. He took one step, then found himself facing the alien, blocking his way. "Let me go."

The Garen regarded the human-child curiously. "Indeed," he murmured.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Where did you learn our language, child?"

"I told you, you're speaking mine."

"Indeed." He waved toward a corner. "Go. Sit over there. I will address you presently."

Unaccountably, Nik found himself walking toward the corner. He sat down obediently, scarcely believing he was doing so.

"Sleep."

Nik obeyed. He struggled against the command, but many hours passed before he was able to wake. His stomach growled noisily.

The Garen turned around from his work. "You are awake." He was surprised. A human shouldn't be able to go against the hypnosis. The child should still be asleep. And such a noise. What was that?

"Let me go."

Curious. Why does the human-child keep repeating those same words? He turned back to his work.

"I said, let me go!" Nik repeated. He waited a moment. Standing, he moved a step.

The Geren turned around. The human-child was actually moving! Perhaps this was a puzzle greater than the one he studied. Perhaps he should discover why the Peren should give him this particular specimen.

"Gweop, Gicx, Holjg! Get in here at once."

The three aliens appeared through a sliding door adjacent to Grakmeem's laboratory. "Yes, honored Grakmeem?" they chorused.

"Prepare this specimen for further study," he said, nodding to the human-child.

Nik wasn't about to wait to see what that meant. He bolted for the door, pulling up suddenly as one of the aliens moved in front of him. He backed up, to come up against another alien who grabbed him in a vise-like grip. However he struggled, he couldn't get away. Nik was terrified. What were they going to do to him?
The Garen and Haren aides to Grakmeem were having trouble. They could not get the human-child to remain still long enough to hook up the equipment. He was entirely resistant to their hypnosis efforts, only struggling the more.

"These humans are such a violent species," the Haren commented.

"We are?" Nik sputtered, startling the aliens.

They stared at each other. "It speaks!"

"Why do you keep saying that?" Nik asked, annoyed, but curious. Three pairs of alien eyes turned to stare at him. He swallowed nervously.

"Curious," said Gweop.

"It is no wonder Grakmeem wants this one studied," said Gicx.

"Is it ready?" asked the Garen, entering the room.

"We apologize, honored Grakmeem," Holjg apologized. "We were unable to hold him still."

The Garen turned his powerful gaze on Nik. "Sit down and hold still." He turned to his aides as the human-child obeyed. "Indeed," he murmured.

"Quick," said Gicx, "before it moves again."

Nik indeed continued to struggle as they hooked him up to their weird machines. His stomach growled again and Nik flushed, embarrassed to be the focus of four very odd people. This was beginning to feel very familiar.

"If he continues to twitch like this, how can I work?" Grakmeem demanded.

His teeth on edge from his teacher's disapproval, Holjg grabbed some cable and tied the human-child down in swift, somehow graceful motions.

The Garen nodded. He switched on his apparatus. "Hair sample . . . skin sample . . . blood sample."

Holjg pressed the extractor against one of the human-child's veins, drawing the blood. He hadn't drawn much when the fluid began to bubble. He held up the tool. "Curious," he murmured.

The other aliens turned to look, gasping as the extractor melted, spilling the blood onto the floor. Grakmeem turned his powerful gaze onto the human-child who whimpered and trembled, powerless.

Nik returned the alien's look, scared. "Let me go," he pleaded. "I just want to go home."

Grakmeem rubbed his chin. "Indeed."

The door slid open. The Teren bowed. "I apologize for the interruption," he said, “but the honored Fyulh wishes a word with the honored Grakmeem."

The Garen nodded. "Continue," he told his aides. He followed the Taren to where the Faren awaited.

"Grakmeem," he said right away, "where is Fhuylp, the Faren of this installation?"

"I do not know, honored one. I have not seen the Faren in days."

"Is there truth in what this Paren claims?" the Faren asked, motioning to the prostrate Pazgk.

"I have in my laboratory, a human-child capable of resisting my hypnosis," Grakmeem answered. "It is unusual in many ways."

"How so?"

"Its blood boiled, melting my extractor."

"Is it capable of destruction as this Paren claims?"

"I do not know."

"Grakmeem, Fhuylp is dead. Walk with me."

The Garen followed the Faren, stunned into silence. They walked through several rooms of the installation, pausing to look into the pink fog.

"Grakmeem, news of an unusual sort has reached me. It would appear that some humans have knowledge of us. The rest of the invasion fleet was destroyed a few days ago. We must find out who these humans are and destroy them. It also comes to my attention," the Faren continued, "that the renegade Maugk is here on this planet. We must not fail to capture him."

"Yes, honored one."

"Frakmeem, I leave you in charge here. I want progress." He turned abruptly, heading back to the transport pad.

Even more intrigued, Frakmeem returned to his lab. "Gicx, take charge here," he told his aide.

The aide bowed, grinning, "Yes, honored Faren."

Frakmeem smiled. "I expect much from you, Gicx."

Nik was glad when the alien left again. He eyed the other three nervously. He shrunk back as they readied the scanner to probe him again.

"Another blood sample," Gicx instructed.

"No!" Nik screamed. He began to struggle again, pulling against the cord holding him down.

The aliens watched, mesmerized, as a strange kind of fluid came from the human- child's eyes. Holjg reached out a finger to touch it. He yelled, wiping the burning water off on a handy rag. Gweop handed Holjg a vial. The Haren tried again, careful not to touch it. He immediately dropped the vial as the burning fluid melted the vial faster than the fluid could flow.

"What is it?" Gicx asked, staring.

"This has not happened before," Gweop murmured, stepping away.

Nik watched the aliens, trying to calm down. If he could only do that, he could escape. He forced himself to breathe in and out. In. And out. Think of something soothing. Again Dr. Headman's instructions came to mind. Nik pictured blasting these aliens away, like he had out in space. Breathe in. And out. In. Out. In. Out.

Gicx, scanner in hand, finished his pass. He glanced up in time to see the human-child's eyes change color from their passive blue to a firey red. He jumped back, dropping the tool as it burst into flames in his hand. The other aides backed away as the bindings on the human-child began to melt. Around them, the room became increasingly hot. Gicx could not look away from the human-child's gaze. He couldn't move, couldn't speak.

Gweop and Holjg fled as the room erupted in fire. They screamed as they fled, alerting the Taren. Gicx could not move. He coughed in the acrid smoke. His last memory was of the human-child striding past him and out through a gaping hole in the laboratory wall.

Nik set fire to everything he passed as he burned his way out of the installation. It was amazing how easy he now found the fire was to control. He only had to think it, and it happened. He felt odd, as well, as if nothing could touch him. He could almost separate himself from the action, to watch as if everything was happening to someone else.

When at last Nik stood out in the open, he grinned from a sudden thought. He took a deep breath and pictured the pink fog, like many other gases, as being flammable. He watched as the fog turned to flame, following it as it arced to the source. Then his grin faded. Nik turned and ran as fast as he could.



Dale, with his police officer friend, Frank, first saw the raging fire. They stared. Somehow, in the center of the blast area, a fire raged. The police officer pulled out his radio to report in.

"That's what I said, sir, there's a fire in the crater . . . No, I'm not making this up."

"How can there be a fire where nothing can burn?" Dale mused. He started, dropping his coffee. Before he could think, he raced forward, running as fast as he could move his feet. Halfway down the hill, Frank caught up.

"Get in, Dale!"

He drove to the crater, siren sounding, wanting to see this. On his headset, he could hear other police officers calling in the fire. Moments after they reached the edge, the fire trucks pulled up. Frank leapt off one, then spoke frantically into his radio.

Dale saw the figure running, seconds after the gas flare was sighted. "Nik!" he screamed. "Nik!"

Frank's head jerked in the direction of Dale Wilks. He heard the shouts to take cover, but he turned to stare out into the inferno. Was that a boy he saw?

Dale crashed to the ground just before the explosion. When the noise died away, the fire was also gone. Gone also was the crater. But Dale didn't stop to gawk or marvel. He took off running. He didn't stop until he knelt beside the still form of his son. He cautiously touched the boy's shoulder. "Nik?"

Frank followed Dale, calling for paramedics as soon as he saw the boy. "Amazing," he murmured, dropping next to Dale. "He's hardly touched."

Dale didn't answer. He was too busy checking Nik with his portable scanner. "Nothing appears to be broken," he told the paramedics, close on the heels of the firefighters. He stepped back, watching helplessly as Nik was bundled up and taken away. He started when Frank touched his shoulder.

"At least he's alive."

Dale shrugged the man off, walking back to the line of police officers, firefighters, and the descending press. With them stood Anne, held back by the police-line.

"Dale!" she shouted, grabbing his arm as soon as he was near. Together they weeded their way through the mass of press and spectators, ignoring all questions. As soon as they were in the car, he told Anne the good news.

“They've taken him to the hospital," he told his wife.

"He's going to be so frightened," she whispered, biting at her knuckle.

Dale stepped on the accelerator. He barely had time to stop the car before Anne was out, sprinting for the emergency entrance. He parked and ran after, catching her at the desk where a red-faced military policeman refused them admittance.

"He is my son!" Anne screamed in frustration.

"I'm sorry. I cannot let you through."

Dale took his wife's arm, leading her to a seat. She sobbed against his shoulder and he tried to comfort her. The others in the room stared. He set his jaw, ignoring their rudeness. He was worried. He'd grown more and more concerned with each passing day. He'd assumed Nik would set something on fire as he always did when he was upset or angry, but, until today, there had been nothing. He looked up the hall, past the MP, a worried frown creasing his forehead. He looked down at his wife. She was a wreck. They'd been hounded by the Child Welfare Agency since Nik's disappearance and they had arrogantly told Dale and Anne that they were not fit to be parents, taking Marcus and placing him in a stranger's home for the past week. All efforts to see him were foiled and Dale was strung as tight as a drum. If Nik were also taken away, Dale feared he might lose his cool entirely.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wilks?"

They looked up. Stood.

The doctor beckoned them. "This way, please."

Dale and Anne followed the doctor, quite aware of the MP following close behind. They were led to the critical care unit, where another MP stood by the door. The doctor let them in and Anne ran the last few steps to her son's side.

"He is still unconscious, but otherwise he is fine."

"Then why?" Dale gestured wordlessly around the room, indicating the security.

"It's to keep out the unnecessary," said the woman from her seat in the corner.

Anne didn't try to hide the anger in her voice as she regarded the woman who had turned Nik into a lab rat several times in his young life. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Dr. Wema regarded her impassively. "I am the expert when it comes to your son."

Dale was surprised by his own ill temper on seeing this woman again. "What do you want?"

"The same as you, of course, to see that Nik regains his health and has the life he deserves."

"What you think he needs!" Anne snapped.

"Nik deserves to have a normal life, the same as you and me. I'm only trying to help him."

"We don't need your kind of help," Dale said before Anne could answer. "We won't let him be part of your studies again."

"You're forgetting," she said coldly, "that you signed an agreement with the CWA that gives me the right to find a treatment for your son's condition."

"That's bull--"

"Please, Anne," Dale murmured. He looked Dr. Wema in the eye. "We will not allow you to experiment on our son. He is not a tool for the military to exploit."

"Let me remind you, both of you, that the CWA has taken custody of the boy. You have no say in his care anymore. Now get out." When neither budged, she said more forcefully, "Get out, or I will have you thrown out."

The MP shifted. Dale took his wife's hand and they left, escorted out of the building by the MP.

"Don't worry," Dale told Anne. "I think Nik will manage just fine. We have to talk to my sister. See what she has to say about all this."

Dr. Wema stayed until she was sure the Wilks were gone. "Is he thoroughly tranquilized?" she asked the doctor.

"He is, ma'am."

"Then get him ready to go." She turned to the other MP. "See that he arrives within the hour."

"Yes, ma'am." He was as good as his word, seeing the boy delivered to one of the most secure places he had ever seen. The room they placed the boy in was as cold as a tomb. The MP was disconcerted to see his breath in a hospital room.

"You may go now." Dr. Wema did not have to repeat herself. She left the room, satisfied, leaving orders to be notified as soon as the boy awakened.

The day passed with still no word and she returned to the facility. The boy slept on.



Nik felt the chill first. He shivered, feeling very strange. His headache was gone, but he was uncomfortable. He stirred, abruptly coming awake as he realized he was tied. He took in several deep breaths, trying to ease his panic. This was not helped when the mad scientist from his nightmares suddenly appeared in his field of view.

"Hello, Nik," she said. "I'm happy to see you again. Are you happy to see me?"

"Where are my parents?" Nik demanded.

"What do you care, Nik? They left you here, abandoned you."

He shook his head, turning away. "They wouldn't do that!" He struggled against his bonds, an intense anger building up inside.

Dr. Wema stroked his cheek. "Ah," she murmured, pleased. "Just let that hatred you're feeling come out, Nik. Don't hold it back."

Nik closed his eyes against her barbs, but the doctor knew him too well, had studied him for too long. He could feel himself rising to take her bait and hated that weakness in himself. He was losing control and they both knew it. Dr. Wema only needed one outburst to set her plan in motion. Desperately, Nik fought against both his fear of being helpless again and the anger the doctor provoked.

"Leave me alone!" he screamed.

Dr. Wema laughed, an infuriating sound. "Just like old times, isn't it, Nik?"

Nik's anger and fear evaporated in an instant. He opened his eyes. "Yes, it is," he said calmly, "except for one thing."

Dr. Wema's eyes narrowed. "What's that?"

Nik held up his hands, the binding's melting away. He sat up. "You can't hurt me anymore." Nik jumped off the table. He could feel the chill and knew he had to leave quickly.

"You can't leave this room, Nik," Dr. Wema said, unconcerned.

Nik ignored her, focused instead on the door to his cell. Too slow, too slow! The door was not melting fast enough!

Dr. Wema held up a mask. "Too late, Nik."

Nik smelled the gas, could feel the coldness creeping into his body, distractions both of them. He could feel the panic beginning again and felt his confidence ebbing. He breathed in more of the gas with every breath and the door was no closer to giving way. He last saw Dr. Wema's leering face.

Dr. Wema injected the boy with the tranquilizer. She signaled the hidden cameras to stop the gas, waiting until the air was clean again before taking off the mask. Standing beside the boy, waiting, she felt a sudden tremor, followed quickly by another. She screamed as the floor exploded upward, throwing her against the far wall.

The cameras short-circuited from the blast of water that followed on the heels of the earthquake. When security managed to get the door open some minutes later, the boy was gone.



HAS NIK ESCAPED?
CATCH THE NEXT EPISODE,
"Searching for Answers" ,
TO FIND OUT!