Cassidy checked his watch and took a deep breath. They were inside by now and his job was a frontal assault. He raised a hand and the attack began. The people rushed the front doors of the Precinct, battering the doors open. A volley of gunfire disrupted the onslaught. Cries of surprise, pain and anger could be heard above the deafening noise of gunfire in the entry hall.

Two people fell on his left, and he dove right, rolling to the wall and coming up firing. He saw his shots hit one man, and another spun away, gun flying out onto the floor. One of the rebels slid across the floor on his stomach, retrieved the gun, and screaming, "Kilroy Is Back!" raked the line of guards.

The hall filled with a shouting mob wielding everything from pipe wrenches and axe handles, to pitchforks. The gunfire continued but gradually sputtered to a stop, as the crowd surged into the Precinct, overwhelming the defenders.

Cassidy raced for the stairs. Jason should have been behind the guards when they entered. Something had gone wrong. His mind was painting all kinds of disastrous scenarios. When he reached the corridor, he saw more guards forcing their way into a room. Gunfire erupted followed by yelling, and he raced ahead, discarding any caution.

He stopped in the doorway, his mouth forming the word no. On the floor beside the broken table, Andrew lay crumpled, blood pooling beneath his body. A shot sounded, and he dropped to the floor, head swivelling. Across the room, Jason was holding his side and staring at the body on the floor.

"Jason!" Cassidy rushed to him, catching him as he began to fall.

"Bloody disaster, Reagan," he gasped. "Anchor broke and the boys fell in . . . rope and all."

Cassidy helped him over to a chair and eased him down.

"Four guards . . . they broke in, shooting . . . Sean- Sean jumped at them right away . . . he saved me." His eyes drifted past Reagan. Sean lay in a heap against the wall, the remnant of a grim smile still on his face.

More rebels poured into the room, bumping to a stop at the sight. Cassidy shouted some orders and stood aside while Jason was carried from the room. He wiped his face and looked at his two friends again. God, I hope this was worth it.

******

Brian leaned against the kitchen wall, catching his breath. When the sound of shooting started, he had readied himself to do what he could in defence, and when the door opened, his breath exploded noisily.

"It's happening!" Leslie shut the door behind her and ran to Brian. "There was no warning, everything is in a panic. They began rounding us up, but I was lucky enough to slip away. Guards rushed to the front doors, more stayed to protect the Circle." Her breath was coming in excited bursts.

"Whoa, slow down. Can we still get out?"

She nodded, puffing. "I think so, c'mon." Leslie hauled him out of the room and down the hallway to some stairs. They wound up in the kitchen with several other people.

"The Circle took hostages. They're in the courtroom." A young woman cried.

"What hostages?" He looked around.

"Margo, keep watch." Leslie directed one of the other women to the door and took a count. "The cook and his wife and seven of the girls. We have to save them, Brian."

"Les, we don't even know what's happened yet. And-" He waved a helpless hand toward the others.

Margo made a loud shushing sound, pointing at the door, and stepping back. The handle turned, jiggled and suddenly the door flew in off the hinges and three men burst in, guns waving.

"Wait! Stop! I'm Brian Hayes," he shouted, hands high. "Kilroy! These are friends."

They were lined up against the wall and questioned hastily. Satisfied with what they heard, and a hasty search of the kitchen, they listened to Leslie's account of the hostage taking.

"We must save them," she implored.

"Where's Cassidy? Is he here?" Brian asked, eyeing the weapons.

"Let's get you all out of here first." The men waved them toward the exit door.

On the ground and steps in front of the Precinct, Brian flinched at the line of bodies and the cluster of wounded being attended. Flashlight beams bounced around as the group walked slowly among the crying families and those holding in their own grief, comforting them.

"How many?" He asked a young man kneeling beside a woman with her arm in a crude bandage.

"Not sure. About twenty dead and," he waved a hand around, "twenty or so more injured. And we haven't been in the rest of the place yet."

"Is Reagan Cassidy around?"

"Inside still."

Brian turned to Leslie, "I've got to get in there and help."

"You're not well enough, there are others here who can do that."

"No, Les, there aren't. As hokey as this sounds, this was all done because of me . . . Kilroy. And they need to know I'm back."

"I don't believe you." She stared at him, shaking her head. "What, are you going to write your slogan on them with a marker? Quote poetry or lyrics at them? Brian. You're not a fighter in that sense."

He turned, looking around and then stalked toward a man guarding a small pile of captured weapons.

"I'll take one of those, and a magazine to go with it."

"Hold on, this isn't a sale, pal."

"I'm going in after Cassidy, I'm Brian Hayes."

"And I'm the pope. Just back off."

"It's true," Leslie said, coming up beside them. "He's Kilroy." Her words were picked up by a few people nearby, and one of the women spoke out. "It is him! I saw him when he came back from 20 Days."

Brian grabbed a weapon and started away, stopping abruptly when he found Leslie beside him with one of her own.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Same as you."

"Oh, no. No way. Put that back and stay out here with your friends."

She gave a snort and strode off toward the doors of the Precinct.

"Leslie!" He ran to catch up, trying to hold her back, but she shook loose and kept going. "Leslie! You could get killed!"

"So could you." She tossed the words over her shoulder. "There's no honour in letting someone else die for something you won't defend yourself."

He stuttered to a halt. She's quoting Mark Owen at me! "Leslie, wait!"

More shots could be heard inside, and they both sprinted up the steps and through the door – argument forgotten.

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Total to this point - 15,823