It was red. Deep red. And against the wall behind him, Britney could see the distortion of heat waves rising from him. This was all so impossible, she...thought. She must have fallen asleep after all. She must be in the middle of a dream. But if so, why did this all seem so…..familiar? "Been having fun, Brit?" The red-faced man smiled. "You’re looking well. Much better than the last time we met." The man made no motion toward Britney, and simply stood with his hands in his coat pockets. Britney,. His sister was conflicted. She was happy for him but sad to see him go.He had just put his things away in Darla's guest suite when she stopped by his rooms. She was holding her son's hand. Flint guessed the boy's age at four. A good-looking lad, he thought."Wanna see the rest of the compound?" she said."Sure." Say hi to Mr. Flint, George," she said to her son, who promptly hid his face in her skirt."Hi, George," Flint said as he tickled the little boy's chin with his fingers, which produced a. More

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