It was a Saturday, and the weather forecast was for hot, sunny and not too humid – highs in the 80s, but no afternoon thunderstorm to spoil the fun....Yesterday, she had taken – dragged, he would say – her brother out to get new bathing suits. He’d been a really good sport about the whole thing, she had to admit, if only to herself. They had lunch, and then found suitable outfits with no problems or arguments at all. Redheads with straight medium-red hair and fair skin, they had both selected. "I just saw the faces of the two men who beat me up, but I don't know who they are," he said. "Try to cement their faces into your memory," she said. "Now, how did your blood get in the cockpit of the plane if you were never in it?" she asked. John sat and thought for several minutes. Memories were coming hard to him. Every new memory raised several new questions that John could not answer. Every bit of his past had to be pulled from deep within his mind and brought to the forefront. His face. More

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