The rocky terrain made the climb tiring, and Brian stopped several times to catch his breath and recheck his north-south line. New landmarks had to be established so he didn't wander too far of course, and naturally, as the sun rose higher, so did his thirst. His stomach was feeling cramped as well; the dry bun was gone and replaced with nothing.

The view from even such a low elevation was distressing; flat, barren land that seemed to be bordered by the forest. It suddenly struck him that he could be heading right back into that cursed silver – whatever, and he considered altering his route. It was risky, because his north-south line was only approximate.

"Alas! 'Tis true, I have gone here and there,
and made my self a motley to the view . . ."

He chuckled, having recited aloud, but pleased to have all his memories of exposure to the wealth of creativity the rebels had managed to save and share. He would continue his chosen direction. It took a moment to check with his watch again; the sun was dropping, and he may only have one more chance before night.

"All you need now, Hayes, is something to eat."

******

Brian congratulated himself on the second item he picked from The Circle's selection – a flashlight. It found the outcrop he chose to rest his aching body, and to shelter for the night. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and he tried to force sleep by counting stars. Stars! He jumped up, turning in circles, eyes probing the sky. Yes! The big dipper! He pointed to end of the cup and followed up in a straight line with his finger until Yes! Polaris! Exciting as his discovery was, he quickly realized he had been heading way off his northern route.

Morning came, and Brian rolled out from under the outcrop, sore and even hungrier. His sleep had been miserable, fretting over how far he had travelled in the wrong direction, and he checked the marks he had made the previous night indicating north. He drank some water, wasted a bit gargling and then got out his watch, waiting for the sun to clear the trees.

A good 30 degrees off! He swore aloud and tried different levels, still not close, but he also noticed it was no worse, so he made a note of the difference from his star reading and scanned a general direction forward. Food was now a priority, and he had to start rationing the water again.

The instant he saw the wispy column of smoke, he dropped to the ground, peering cautiously over a boulder. Still too far away to be certain, he scrabbled closer, straining his eyes at what looked like a man crouched in front of a small fire. Taking out the knife, but keeping it out of sight, he moved closer.

He froze as the man stood and turned toward him. He was tall, well-built and healthy looking. The beard and hair had been presentably trained. He looked perfectly human . . . and he grinned!

"You can get up and join me, unless lyin' in the dirt is your thing."

Brian rose slowly, one hand out of sight on the bone handle of his knife. "Who are you?" He looked around in case there were more.

"A friend, hopefully. And you are, let me guess. The latest 20 days of freedom convict" The man turned away, bending down to the fire. Brian immediately brandished the knife.

He stood again holding out a stick with something cooked on the end. "Here, have a bite of this, you looked starved."

The initial shock abated, and he accepted the stick automatically, glancing at what looked like meat, and chewed off a large piece.

"Ooh! Ooh, hot." He dropped the stick and grappled his water container out of the pack.

The man picked up the stick, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Thought that might have occurred to you." He offered it again, and Brian took it, nibbling tentatively. "Thanks for this. I haven't eaten for- I forget."

The man walked away and sat on a flat rock, patting the space beside him. "Let's start over. Who am I sharing my food with?"

"Uh- Brian. Brian Hayes." He sat as invited, the meat going fast in spite of the heat.

"And what dastardly crime brought you out here?"

"Whose food am I sharing first?"

"Reagan Cassidy." A big hand extended in greeting.

Brian took it then paused. Had he heard right? "Cas- you're Reagan Cassidy?"

"In the flesh."

"You're Reagan Cassidy?" He repeated in disbelief.

"You'll have to take my word, son."

"You . . . you're dead! You were sent out here ages ago. You never returned."

"I'm sorry to hear I'm dead. But you're right, and it was only 22 months ago actually."

"How?" Brian waved his hand around, bewildered.

Cassidy extracted his hand from Brian's grasp, chuckling as he got up. "C'mon, I've got a place not too far away. We'll get you properly fed and settled and I'll tell you all about it."

Still a little confused and uncertain, Brian followed without further questions.

Cassidy's 'place' turned out to be a short cave facing the sunrise. It had been outfitted with crude storage spaces and a surprisingly well constructed fire pit with a spit and a stack of wood neatly piled beside it. At the entrance was a stool, made from a flat rock and what looked like a tree root, lashed together.

"I've made a little tavern
in a rocky little cavern,
and I sit and watch for people at the door . . ."

Cassidy stopped and stared at Brian. "What was that?" He came closer, studying his guest.

"Just a snatch from an old poem. I do that now and then – it's a habit."

"It's more than a habit, Brian Hayes, it's a signature." Cassidy looked at him with fresh eyes. "You're Kilroy."

"How could you know that?"

He clapped his hands together. "This is priceless! Kilroy Is Back! That's you." Cassidy shook his head, grinning, "I've seen the paintings and the signature. Now that was a crime worth committing."

"The Circle of Six didn't think so. But how could you know – out here?"

"Let's get some food ready. You have a lot to learn."

******

The sun had left the valley, and darkness had taken over. A good fire burned in the pit outside the cave, tossing shadows flickering across the cave walls. Brian sat on the ground, feeling every ache and pain his body could muster. Cassidy handed him a plate containing a few bits of meat and, surprisingly, a couple of carrots.

"This should help." He sat beside Brian and watched him carefully taste the food and then gobble it down.

"Better?"

"Much. Thanks." Brian wiped his mouth and looked around. "Okay, explain."

"The first thing you need to know," Cassidy said, lighting a cigarette and leaning back against the cave wall, "is that the 20 days of freedom is a hoax."

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