Frank's grim snickering flashbacks of Karl's pain were ruptured by Shannon's million decibel screech. It was a pure female sound, the one designed by God to allow ladies to absolutely compel a man's attention. It causes male sphincters to close, spit to drip, eyelids to yank back into the skull and even causes listening to happen. Shaken, Frank swerved "Jesus! Shannon! You're gonna get us killed! I almost drove off the..." but she just screamed again. Words, somehow conveyed within that screeching vent, pelleted, "They're on us! Do something!"

Sumner was muttering, ".. a few good men, we need .." and then as abruptly as her scream, "Trees," he shouted above her agony. "Through the trees," he repeated. Pulling quickly off the road again through brush skimming around trees in the wide forrested dividing island back to the north bound side nearly broke both their necks. He gained space, but, even so, he saw the sea of possibilities was sucking out. Holy Jesus. There were more cars! The big wave, the really big final one, had crested and was about to fall. There was little to do but take in the final spectacle. There were even more cars than before - he couldn't count them as he veered - bearing down fast, very fast, in the wrong direction, from the north. A tide of bullets was cresting and the spraying sound of machine gun fire was easily recognized by this old soldier. There was no where to go but down as the Explorer ran unguided off the road.

There was audible ripping of steel, exploding tires, shattering glass. Frank Sumner, no longer behind the wheel, had belly rolled over the seat to end up lying on top of Shannon who was already flat on the floor in the foot well of the rear seat. The Explorer rolled diagonally on an uphill roadside grassy slope to a stop, stalled out, then back to a stop on the gravel shoulder. Armageddon was outside. He had never, in the Golf Course of the Ia Drang Valley, heard so much ordinance being discharged. Shannon's last complete sentence before being muffled by Frank's body was, "I always wondered what God looked like. Now ..."

The pause was murderous and deafening. "BLACK," he yelled directly into her ear and that was barely loud enough above swirling gusts of continuing gun fire, "and stay down!"

Maybe it was loss of circulation, that distance that comes with fainting. Maybe just acute deafness from the noise itself. But, with an occasional brief exception, gun fire seemed to draw away, further and further away. Explosions were distant. "Frank?!"

"What?"

"What about black?"

"Black? Black is beautiful!"

She peered out from under his body which was still draped over her as a protective mantle, and saw nothing that fit. What glass? What metal? What was exploding? It wasn't the Explorer. "Are we dead?"

"Just stay down!" he screamed.

"Who is it?" she hollered, now figuring that a battle was raging outside.

"God. You called, He answered. I got news for you Irish, He sure as hell ain't green. He's black! God is black."

As the tantrum of rockets and sustained explosion suddenly capped, Shannon wondered, "Hope He hasn't run out of bullets." It was quiet. It stayed that way for a few minutes until the sound of trucks. What had sounded like war now sounded like construction. "Shannon," Frank now whispered, "either we're about to die or we've won." He bobbed his head up, carefully reconnoitering, then briefly summarized what he saw, "Holy shit!"

Climbing out from under him, Shannon also peeked her head up next to his. She whispered, nearly bug eyed, "I second that." There were at least two dozen huge, fiercely huge black men, any one of which alone would strike terror into any normal human. A ring of them were standing around the Explorer with their backs to the vehicle. Huge black Gods, Adonises, toting huge weapons, were outside. Beyond them, in the distance, others were dragging bodies and clearing debris. Sumner got out, looked around, and walked to the one who he perceived was the leader of these avenging angels. On tip toe, the old marine just kissed the big man right on the lips. "Man. I've got a wife you wouldn't believe, but you are the most beautiful thing I have EVER seen." It's OK. Men have kissed mountains before. This man was terra firma. Lines of power emanated from his gaze. Yet, this typhoon of humanity stood his ground with a mix of surprise and attentive readiness - still scanning the terrain. Fierce dangerousness oozed from his physical being, but with a blink of a twinkle in his eye, brief, ever so brief a twinkle of affirmation was made, as he wiped of his lips with the back of his massive hand.

"Go to this address," is the only thing he said handing over a piece of paper. His voice was powerful, incapable of being argued with, and that was totally totally reassuring.

Shannon was watching this from the open rear car door, still prone across the back seat. "My legs don't work," she explained, quickly assuring everyone that she wasn't shot. "Rubber. They're rubber."

Frank went to her. "Hey, Irish, you did good. Com'on, up, up. Navigate. I've never been to this place," showing her the address.

"I've never.. but I know where that is. That's not far from Sister's of Mercy. Can we stop at a ladies room?" Sumner laughed. Shannon pulling her disheveled self together, warned, "We're still not out of trouble. Can't have black avenging angels protecting our asses every day. How about a witness protection program?" She was combing her hair with her fingers with the reflection off the rear window. Many bullet holes made that reflection more dificult than it might have otherwise been. And only as she got her hair somewhat ordered did she suddenly grasp the import of those holes.

She was probing them one by one with her finger when Frank offered his own reality, "Witness protection? Mm mm, no. I don't ... think... Hmmm, witness? Against who? We aren't witnesses. We're targets. Our only value to the police would be as bait! I, personally, have no desire to be bait!" Hmmm. She had heard that opinion before and agreed. But it was time to move out. Long range solutions would have to come later. Two of the cars, that had converged on this war zone, followed the Explorer closely.

"Take it out of four wheel, Frank," Shannon smiled sweetly at him and reached out to pinch his cheek, as stony scarred as it was.

"Oh. Yeah," he disengaged it.

An interesting question was tossed into the momentary lull as a feminine reflex to not exclude Frank's larger family, "So, how's the young man?"

"Marcus?"

"Yeah. What's he like?"

"Mmmm, well.. just like his father," Frank laughed, "We get along great."

Shannon thought that was hilarious. "He will have to go some to be like you."

"Doesn't have to. To be as blessed, yes," a little smile and a twinkle crossed his face.

"Ooooo, I know who you're thinking about."

His face went pink into a big leering grin, "Yup." Then he added, "You were worrying about getting into heaven. I was, well, a bit more grounded, uh.." Shannon began laughing wildly as Frank couldn't help but join in. They laughed all the way to the safe house, which was where they were going. In a gentle way, Shannon punched Frank in the arm. "Shit. Give 'er an extra one for me, Frank." They both laughed out of control.