Bob Hartley attempted to calm the distraught Trapper. Largely, he would fail.

"Okay, just start wherever you want."

Some words had the tinge of instant regret. Trapper began.

"Doctor Hartley--I'm dying."

Bob nodded, in an attempt to comfort his patient.

"I'm-I'm very sorry to hear that, Doctor McIntyre. How-how long do they give you?"

Trapper thought.

"If I cut out adding salt, and cut back my fat intake, who knows? I might even make it to 100."

Bob was a bit lost.

"And-and-how old are you now?"


Bob was now really lost.

"So they-they've only given you---forty or so years before you give out. Um, Doctor McIntyre?"


"Ok--Trapper. I-I don't mean to be at all dismissive of your---terminal condition, but I think you need just a weeee bit of perspective, here. You see, most terminal patients get a diagnosis of maybe five years or-or less. So you see, eight-eight times that diagnosis--really doesn't sound all that bad, from my end."

Trapper stared at him.

"Hey, pal. Its not like I have cancer or anything. I just meant that I'm dying, same as you. Same as most people."

Bob was still lost.

"The-the same as all people, Trapper. By that standard, we-we're all dying, from the day we're born."

Trapper held up a finger.

"With a few thousand exceptions. Not to mention eight particular ones, if ya know what I mean."

Bob did not know what he meant.

"Could-could you elaborate on that, just a bit?"

Trapper looked askance at the substitute shrink.

"Didn't Sidney already feed you all this?"

Bob attempted to cover for what he mistakenly thought was an absent-minded colleague.

"Of course he did. I--just want to get your perspective."

Trapper let loose, and the 1978 reunion would never be the same.

"Finding out about Henry, Sidney, and Walter threw me hard enough. I mean, Sir Bedivere and The Wandering Jew?"

Bob maintained his facade--barely.

"That-that could sure throw someone off."

"And the lengths those government goons have gone to. Wasn't silencing Henry bad enough?"

Bob noted that, in Trapper's delusion, Henry Blake was a Knight killed by government agents.

"Of course, even those of us who don't have extra time get touched. Did you know that BJ Hunnicutt and I went to another dimension? I don't think Sidney has that in his files."

Bob looked at imaginary notes from those missing files.

"He-he must not have serialized that one, just yet."

"Yeah. Of course, Potter trumps us all. His Major in WW1 was Pestilence, Of The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse!"

Bob was beginning to glaze over.

"Wow. Wow. Tell me, where were Death, Famine, and War?"

Trapper shrugged.

"How should I know?"

"Of-of course. Why would you know where the other three Horsemen were?"

McIntyre was beginning to feel nervous around Hartley.

"Doctor Hartley--are you feeling all right?"

Bob lied with a partial truth.

"Well, Trapper--I just had a confrontation with one of my patients. I had to end our relationship, because he interfered with my personal life."

Trapper nodded.

"That--I'll buy. You must get a lot of real crackpots in your line of work."

"Trapper--you wouldn't--believe the kind of people I meet."

"I guess. Hey--did I mention how we all pulled together back in 54', to fight Godzilla?"

Bob's parents had always loudly insisted that Godzilla was a media stunt. They also thought certain that President Kennedy had been killed at Dulles Airport in Washington. Bob had since only cleared up one bit of misinformation.

"Why--why don't we save that story, til I've more fully reviewed--Sidney's voluminous files?"

"Lemme guess--he gave them to you at the last minute? That is classic Sidney."

Bob laughed a phony laugh.

"That-that wacky Wandering Jew!"

Trapper left, feeling better for venting. Bob did not. And he would only feel yet worse. A knock came on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Bob--its Emily. Please open up."

He opened the door.

"Why didn't you just use your key..."

Emily was being held with a sword to her back. The sword-wielder--was Mr. Petersen.

"Doctor Hartley--I find your decision to re-dissolve our group to be unacceptable."

The little man seemed a trifle less funny to Bob, at that moment. His sword he didn't find amusing at all. It was almost like Petersen had been partially posessed by Jack The Ripper. That is, if Jack wanted to hide realllly well.

Over in his hotel room, a man who had not aged a day since 1952 joined a young woman in his shower stall who had not aged since reaching maturity. At times, he could be a pain in the neck-and she could be a real witch.

"Walter--this is a little slice of heaven. Hey, want to drive past the Great Lakes Training Barracks, and Polar Bear it?"

Walter O'Reilly smiled, but shook his head.

"Erin--the wind whips off that lake something crazy. We'd catch pneumonia, if either of us could catch pneumonia. Plus, I can never see anything in the early morning fog."

Intern Surgeon Doctor Erin Hunnicutt shrugged.

"So? I'll magic the fog away. Just a tug on the cheek...."

A heavy rap came on the outer door. Unlike his brother-in-law Darrin Stephens, BJ Hunnicutt allowed his wife to shave four and three-quarters years off his age, every five years, so he looked a perpetual early 40's.

"Radar! Have you seen Erin? Peg and I can't find her anywhere."

Erin backed up to the shower wall. Walter gulped. He closed his eyes.

"Uh, I ain't seen her for a time, now, BJ. Maybe you better look somewhere else."

"Are you in the shower?"

Walter smiled, and relaxed too soon.

"We sure are."

Erin slapped him in the back.

BJ pondered.

"Did you say we?"

Walter improvised.

"Yeah, we. Just me and...."

Erin gulped.

"My shadow...strolling down the avenue. Heh! You remember that one, Beej?"

BJ chuckled and walked off.

"Don't quit being an Immortal, Radar."

Walter felt his neck.

"I sure hope not to."

Erin embraced him from behind.

"There's something about a narrow escape."

"Yeah--but he's gonna kill me when he finds out about us."

Erin continued holding him.

"Its not exactly my Dad you have to worry about. Its the lady with the twitching cheek who can send you to Mars, if the mood strikes her."

Then, Walter himself twitched involuntarily.

"Oh, geez. Not now!"

Erin asked the wrong question.

"Not so soon--Walter!?"

"No. It ain't--that. I just felt the Buzz, and it ain't Sidney. This guy is just plain nutso. I gotta get my sword. Sorry, honey."

She smiled.

"But what about the sword you've already..."

He did his Jack Benny impression.

"Now cut that out!"

Back | Forward