Granville, New York
June 1, 1926
Following the fight, Zho slept for hours and awoke with a pounding headache and a piercing ache in his lower back. He had never felt like that after a match before. He had always presumed that there would be physical consequences to fighting an actual live opponent. On Dagan, he had even heard rumors of unsanctioned live Skiirmiish matches, though they were strictly forbidden by the High Council. But of course, there were no headaches following a simulated match.
Since Kelly had barely laid a glove on Costello, the host body, during their match, Zho was surprised at how much his head hurt still hurt. Zho checked whether the host body was again responding to his commands. He tried to move his arms and legs, but they did not comply.
That’s strange. Control of bodily functions should be fully restored by now.
Zho then realized that he was tied to the bed. He tried again to move the host body’s arms and legs and concluded that each appendage was firmly strapped down. Zho was oddly relieved that the body may be functioning properly but concerned that someone or something had tied him to a bed.
Zho checked whether the recovery protocol had restored his mission plan. Unfortunately, it had only been able to recover a few additional fragments:
Find the one called Mike Kelly… Nora…
Protect Kelly family… Craig Colony… extraction will devastate planet.
Costello now understood that at least part of his mission was to protect the Kelly family, but he still didn’t know how this would relate to the yet to be identified Nora. Was Costello to protect the Kelly family from Nora? Or was Nora an ally who would assist him with his mission? If so, who would they be protecting the Kelly family from? And what was this Craig Colony? Zho searched the host memories but found nothing useful.
After considering these issues, Zho decided that his best course of action was to stay close to the Kelly family until answers to these questions revealed themselves, or until the recovery protocol was able to restore his corrupted mission file.
He looked around the room. He was lying in a bedroom. He wasn’t sure if the host’s unfamiliarity with the room was the result of the Transference malfunction or because the host body had never been here before.
He ran a diagnostic. It promptly responded suggesting that he identify any artwork in the room. He was surprised that he was able to do so. A print of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus was hanging on the wall. “Even though the host had not been a ‘good Irish Catholic’ for many years, I recognize this print from the host memory. It is in the homes of many Catholics,” Zho caused Costello to say aloud to himself.
Zho was pleased by this result. Not only had he accessed the host’s memory, but his verbal, audible response was clear, and his language program confirmed that he had used the proper syntax. His access to the host’s memory and voice had been almost fully restored. Most importantly, it appeared that he had been able to access the host memories without interference from the host’s residual emotions or from that voice that had entered his mind during the boxing match – whatever that voice was.
Zho glanced above the bed. As he had anticipated, there was a cross above the headboard. “A crucifix hangs in the bedroom of almost every Irish Catholic that Costello ever met,” Costello said aloud. The language diagnostic again confirmed that voice control was restored and that he had used proper syntax.
Based solely on the decor, Zho concluded that he was in the home of an Irish Catholic. Costello accessed his religious and cultural database and made a detailed review of the Catholic religion, thinking he could use this knowledge in the event it became necessary to address the religious beliefs of the locals.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Although he had no idea where he was or who could be knocking, Costello reflexively responded, “Come in.”
A woman in her late twenties entered the room. Although she was unfamiliar to Zho, she certainly knew Costello. “He’s finally awake,” said Mary Kelly, the matriarch of the Kelly family, in a familiar, friendly voice.
“Where am I?” Costello inquired weakly
“Where are you? That’s rich,” Mary replied. “You’ve been in this house hundreds of times. The Lord knows you’ve slept off more than your share in that bed.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Of course,” Costello responded. He tried to sit up in his bed, but that was impossible since his arms and legs were tied down. “Why am I tied to this bed?” he asked, tugging at the straps.
“That’s not up to me. That’s between you and Mike,” Mary replied, while straightening up the room.
“Am I a prisoner?” Costello asked.
“Not as far as I know,” Mary said, without making eye contact.
“Why am I so weak? What did Mike do to me?”
“What were you trying to do to Mike?” Mary snapped. She stopped cleaning and looked Costello in the eyes. “From what I saw of that fight, you were trying to kill my husband. Thank the Lord he knocked you out before you could finish the job. Frankly, I don’t understand you boys. If you aren’t getting drunk together, you’re trying to kill each other.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill anyone. Mike asked me to fight. That’s what I did.”
“And you beat the devil out of each other! I hope you’re proud of yourselves. You should see how bad Mike looks today.” Mary chuckled, clearly amused that someone had finally given Mike a beating.
“So, what’s gonna happen to me?” he asked.
“That’s up to Mike,” Mary whispered. She walked close to Costello’s bedside as though she was sharing a secret.
“Whatever Mike decides, let me just say that I always liked you. You were loyal to the family. And despite what everyone says, I remember back before the war when you were a good man. May the Lord be with you, Ryan Costello.” Mary made the sign of the cross and rushed out of the room.
May the Lord be with you? May the Lord be with you… That doesn’t sound like she expects to see me again later today, Zho thought to himself.
Zho caused Costello to pull harder against the straps. But he was still too weak to break free. Apparently, his fight with Kelly had completely sapped his strength.
Suddenly, Mike Kelly entered the room, flanked by four men. Costello recognized two of them: Jim Moyer and Owen Feeney. Kelly’s eyes were blackened, and his left cheek was badly swollen. Moyer’s face looked similarly from the beating he had received from Kelly.
By contrast, Costello did not have a mark on his face. Based strictly on their post-fight physical appearances, one would have assumed that Costello had won his match.
Kelly got right to the point. “Costello, my people at the fight thought that you were trying to kill me. In fact, Mr. Moyer here says that if you hadn’t had your attack – or whatever you call it – you intended to beat me to death in that corner. Now, we all know that Ryan Costello is nothing more than a drunk. He could never beat anyone to death, especially me,” Kelly continued.
“Hell, Costello couldn’t kill anything. Except maybe a bottle of gin,” Moyer said, laughing at his own joke.
“That’s true. Costello can kill a bottle of hooch about as good as anyone,” Feeney chimed in. The others laughed.
Kelly shot Moyer and Feeney an angry look. This was deadly serious business and not a time for humor. “Now, I’m a good Catholic. And I don’t like killing anyone, especially friends.” Kelly said.
“But Costello, or whatever your name really is, we don’t know what in the hell you are. And Mr. Moyer and Mr. Feeney both advise me that the safest thing to do is just blow your head off, chop you up, and sink your body parts in the quarry. Hell, maybe pieces of you should be sunk in different quarries.”
Zho thought quickly. He knew he’d only have one chance to convince Kelly to spare him.
Then Zho received a warning from the recovery protocol.
“Attention: Host body in imminent danger. If you are coupled with Host at time of its destruction, your life force will be terminated. Recommend exiting Host body immediately.”
Thanks for the advice, Zho thought. But as long as he was tied up in this house without the technology necessary to reverse the Transference, he was trapped in the host body. Moreover, he now understood that an important part of his mission was to protect the Kelly family. Obviously, he had to find a way to gain Mike Kelly’s trust.
Costello decided to parrot Mary Kelly’s words. “Mike. I’m your old friend, Ryan. I’ve always been loyal to you and the Kelly family. I’ve been with you in this house hundreds of times. Hell, I’ve slept off more than my share in this very bed. I’m truly sorry for the way I lost my temper in the fight. Honest to God, I really don’t even know what happened. You know that I’ve been real sick, but somehow Father O’Brien brought me out of it. He saved my life. That has to be it. But as the Lord is my witness, Ryan Costello has always been loyal. No matter what, Ryan Costello will always be loyal to the Kelly family.”
Mike Kelly nodded to Moyer and left the room. Costello didn’t know what the nod to Moyer was intended to communicate. For all Costello knew, Kelly had just ordered Moyer to kill him.
Which would have delighted Moyer. He and Costello had known each for years and had always despised each other. No one really remembered why, but everyone knew that they did. It was generally accepted that, one day, one would kill the other. Apparently, that day had come, for Moyer raised his shotgun to Costello’s ear.
Feeney moved behind Moyer to ensure that the splatter of Costello’s head wouldn’t soil Feeney’s suit. Costello turned his head and faced directly toward the barrel of the shotgun, looking Moyer in the eyes.
“Jim, before you do it, could I trouble you to hand me the Bible on that nightstand? And then give me a moment to make my peace with God?” Costello inquired.
“Do I have your word that you won’t try anything if we loosen one arm?” Moyer asked.
“I give you my word,” Costello replied.
Feeney loosened Costello’s right arm and handed him the Bible.
Grasping the Bible, Costello stared at the print of Mary on the wall. As he gazed at the print, Costello said his Final Act of Contrition.
“Jim, my friend, you do realize that you are about to commit a mortal sin. And if you die with this mortal sin on your soul, you will spend all eternity burning in Hell.”
“Ryan Costello is worried about my immortal soul,” Moyer said, laughing as he spoke.
“Jim, we’ve had our differences. But you’ve never done anything that would get you sent to Hell. Sure, you’re a liar and a thief, but you’ve never done anything that a confession with Father O’Brien couldn’t wash away. Until this Jim: a premeditated murder?” Costello went on. “Oh, my friend, you’re definitely going to burn in Hell for this. There’s no doubt about it. And remember, Jim: life is so short, and death is so long,” Costello murmured.
“Costello, I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember,” Moyer said.
“I respect that. You may hate me, Jim, but I hold absolutely no anger toward you. So, go for it, Jim. I’m ready. And when I see your parents in Heaven, I’ll tell them not to expect you.”
Moyer pressed the shotgun against Costello’s temple. Costello maintained his gaze at the Virgin Mary while softly repeating the Act of Contrition. Several seconds passed and all the while Moyer continued pointing the shotgun at Costello.
“I’m not going to kill you, Costello,” Moyer said, lowering the gun. “Major Kelly won’t let me.” With that, Moyer flipped his shotgun around, smiled broadly at Feeney, and bashed Costello in the side of his head with the butt of the gun. Costello fell unconscious in his bed. “Put him in the truck,” Moyer instructed the other men.
Mary walked back into the room. “You did good,” she told Moyer. “Remember, if you have to kill Costello, let him say the Act of Contrition right before. But don’t wait for Mike’s approval. The man dithers too much with these decisions. If you have to do it, just tell him that I gave the order,” Mary said.