The unexplained Ed Ferguson, leaning at the counter in his apartment and downing a second, tall, cool glass of orange juice, didn't mind the slight hangover from the previous night's party. It was, after all, Sunday, and with no obligations other than a few personal errands such as laundry and a bit of grocery shopping, he was glad that he


A game in the cold “What happened? What went wrong – weren't we supposed to be helping the rebels?” Christine sat on the edge of the bed and studied Jason's immobile face. He was sitting – clearly humming with pent up tension – on the edge of a chair. “That's what was supposed to happen.” He grimaced