“Happy New Year’s Day!” he yelled, then he wobbled attempting to seal his announcement with a wet sloppy kiss.  Ona pressed her palms against his chest, fighting to resist him.

“Wait a minute...” the man protested.  “All I was trying to do was...”

From behind, Ona heard a slap, then the man released his hold while falling at an angle.  Someone had hit his head, and when he was on the ground, she’d locked eyes with his assaulter.  Ona was thankful when this woman’s piercing glare landed on the octopus man.

“That’ll teach you to cheat...just you wait. ”

Ona fixed her gaze on a woman she was sure was ten years older than her.  She nailed Ona with an angry glare when she said...

“You’d do good to get out of here--reformer.”

Reformer.  Ona remembered the first time she’d heard this word; it was then that she learned that some people despised her Sect.  Being called a reformer by this woman was the same as being spat in the face.

“Get!”  the woman screamed.  Then the woman turned her attention back to the man who had practically mauled her.

Ona stumbled, trying to distance herself.  She recalled a street that led back in the direction of Conclave Square.  If she took this route, she could wait in front of her Conclave, then she could join a group of Samaritans and walk with them back to the dock.  Yes...she thought.  That’s exactly what she would do.

Ona hurried her pace and it didn’t pass her notice that her progress was slow.  She’d never been around so many people and it seemed that not one of them was sober.  She passed doorways, and building fronts; using these landmarks to gauge her position.  She was coming up on a crosswalk, and from there she would only have one more block to walk, then she could retrace her steps back to the Conclave.  The horde of people moved like a rushing rapid, and even if she wanted to turn now, going back the way she came; the crushing swarm made turning impossible.  She had to move forward, and hope that the other route would favor her direction.  Ona was passing a house where loud music and laughter swelled, and inside she could see people pressed together, drinking and dancing.  Each face held an expression of utter joy.  She’d always been curious to learn about other people and their beliefs.  And working with children outside of her Sect would give her that unique opportunity.  Ona watched as a woman twirled in the outer foyer of the house; she spun until her dancing landed her on the sidewalk.  For some reason, her rhythmic movements spread like wildfire, then everyone around her began to shake, hop, quiver and sway.  An electric beat fueled their movements, and Ona was caught in the mesh of people.  She tried to weed through them, then she felt someones hand reaching for her.  Ona panicked and her thoughts went back to the woman and that man on the street.  She didn’t want a repeat of that scene, so she moved away from the hand.  Ona fought hard to distance herself, then beneath her the ground became uneven, causing her to lose her balance.  While Ona had been making slow steady progress on the sidewalks; on the street, ground transports moved at steady clips. The city was a cacophony of smells, images, slow and rapid motions.  All at once, loud noises assaulted her ears.  Blaring horns, loud screaming, cries of unintelligible anguish--then the sound of crushing bones.  A blanket of darkness shrouded her vision.  Ona would recall these things--but the memory wouldn’t come, until many days later.

**********

Chapter 5

1:50 PM

Somewhere over Bishop Square

By the time Lucien stepped on the elevator, taking him to the helipad on the roof; he’d prepared himself to wait, but instead, he spotted Caesar standing next to the passengers door.  His pilot had been in good spirits and they flew to Lucien’s penthouse in under five minutes.  Lucien dashed down to his wine cellar; collected the three bottles of champagne, then he was on the roof and they were headed back to his families celebratory Ball.  While Caesar flew the chopper, Lucien busied himself checking messages, and responding to relatives who had not been able to join them this year.  He was finishing up a letter to his cousin in Burgundy when he heard what sounded to him like a chorus of screams.  Lucien strained his eyes, staring out the window and that’s when he saw it--the Delors’ white van.  The Delors‘ Ball is an all day event, requiring the staffing of three shifts of servers.  Lucien didn’t know with certainty, but he was pretty sure on the direction of the van, this transport was headed for his family’s house.  His notion was confirmed, when men and women filed out, seemingly daze--and they’d congregated in front of the van.  From the height of the chopper, it looked like a pedestrian had been hit--and the Delors employee had been the driver.  Lucien could clearly see a growing crowd of people milling around the victim but no one appeared to be rendering any assistance--not even the staff dressed in pristine black and white uniforms.  On the overhead speaker, the pilot said...

“The sky is clear boss.  No emergency air transports in sight.”

“Are you sure Caesar?”

“Yep--the skies are clear and blue--not one flasher in sight.  I don’t think anyone’s on the horn boss.  Nobody has sounded the whistle.”  then his pilot said...“Hey boss--isn’t that a Delors’ logo on the top of that van?”

“Yes--it is.”

A Delors’ van was responsible for the accident and if Lucien were to believe his pilot, it would mean that no one on the ground had notified the police or any of the emergency services; not even the Delors’ staffers.  He supposed that on a day like today, the witnesses were more than likely dazed, or thoroughly inebriated.

“What do you want me to do boss?  Sound the whistle?”

Lucien watched and waited, and still no one seemed to be helping this person.  The closer he looked, he was convinced that if this person were to survive, someone had to react.

“Yes--call for medical support--and...”  Lucien stalled before finally saying...”You might as well notify the local authorities as well as my families solicitor.  From this height, it’s unclear if the driver is to blame, but I’m confident that our legal counsel will want to be notified, just in case this victims family decides to take legal action.”

What a way to start the new year, he thought to himself.  He wondered if the driver of the transport realized the consequences tied to this accident.  Of course he did, Lucien reasoned.  But he didn’t envy this person, whoever they were because this was the worst way to begin a new year.

“I see the flashers boss.  Ground and air transport--but it looks like the air medical transport will arrive first.  They should be here in five minutes.  Ready to head back to the brownstone?”

Lucien stared at the people below.  Their heads were craned towards the sky, watching the approaching medical transport.  Once the medical technicians got to work, there wouldn’t be anything left for anyone to do.  His rational mind told him to leave but--he couldn’t get his family’s crest out of his head.  The logo was clearly printed on the van’s roof, its side, and more than likely the logo was printed on the license plate, and stitched on each employee’s shirt.  He groaned, then Lucien said...

“Find someplace to land.”

“What’s that you say?  Did I hear you right when you said to land?”

That’s right, Lucien thought to himself--land this fucking bird.  He didn’t know what compelled him, but his gut told him that his presence was needed on the ground.

“That’s right Caesar--I want you to land.  Try to put down, at a safe distance, but close to the person lying in the street.  From here, it doesn’t look like anyone is rendering first-aid.”  Not even the Delors staff.  Lucien cursed under his breath, and his vexation eased when he heard his pilot say...