Copyright © 2006, Kenneth
Reviews For ZEB THE DOGMAN by Kenneth E. Baker
"Zeb the Dogman: Book Three is another sensational mind-blowing installment by Mr. Baker. This story is suspenseful, compelling, and magnetic and it takes the reader on a roller coaster ride as everyone wonders who to trust in this remarkable thriller. Zeb comes across strong in the story as he tries to think of ways to outwit the alien in his mind. The well-rounded secondary characters lend a terrific cast to the elements in the book as they each work together while wondering if someone in their cluster is on the wrong side waiting to strike. The good versus evil in this magnificent read is brilliantly detailed and well-written. I have read the first in the series, The Chosen One then Stalker’s Revenge and now Zeb the Dogman, which sparks excitement. Mr. Baker is truly creative and generates characters that are driven and well developed. If you have yet to read any books by Kenneth E. Baker, you have no idea what you are missing. His gifted talent keeps you on the edge of your seat. I always feel the power and intense sensations he creates in his stories. This one is no exception."
Reviewed by Linda 5 Angels Fallen Angel Reviews
Sample Chapter For ZEB THE DOGMAN by Kenneth E. Baker
Zeb/Org stood on top of the hill looking at the sealed doors of the tunnel. Hundreds of dogs, small and large, sat around him, waiting for him to tell them what to do.
Beside him, a small mongrel dog lifted its head. Zeb asked, “What are we going to do now? The human, Joe, is out of our reach.”
“Don’t worry, old one. He won’t be in there for very long. Things are happening which will compel him to leave the shelter of the mountain. All we can do now is bide our time until he is out in the open where we can get to him,” Zeb heard in his mind.
Zeb heard and knew everything happening to him, but was unable to control many of his actions. A few months ago, he was a ninety-one-year-old man trying to make sense of a world gone mad.
Now he was locked in a small portion of his own mind, while an alien force used the rest of it, and his body. Although unable to control his actions, Zeb discovered if he was careful, he could fool the alien who had taken over his body. He discovered the force in control of him had a few misconceived ideas about humans. For one thing, the being thought that because Zeb was ninety-one years old, he required a lot of rest. Actually, Zeb was as hearty and healthy as a man in his late forties. He used this knowledge to give Joe and his people a chance to escape. By faking exhaustion, Zeb forced the being to rest more than it would have preferred to.
He discovered the small dog, Squeeker, that had been his companion for the last several years, was the true alien force that controlled him. Somehow, the being had placed a small part of himself in Zeb’s mind as he slept a few months ago. Used to living by himself, Zeb had no living relatives.
Several months ago when the world started going crazy, Zeb noticed a change in Squeeker. She became listless for awhile, then overnight, she became aggressive as all get out. Zeb’s first thought was she had been bitten by a rabid animal and he was concerned. He was about to take her to the vet in town when she appeared to become her old self again.
He lay down to sleep one night and woke up the next morning feeling strange. His thoughts were muddled and he had a hard time concentrating on anything. As the day progressed, he heard a voice in his head asking if he was in control yet. Zeb thought he was getting the sickness spreading across the country at the time.
His head hurt so bad, he took a whole bottle of aspirin that day. It felt like something was inside his mind, shifting portions of his brain around. The morning after that, he woke up and discovered that even though he was still Zeb, something had sealed away the part of him that controlled his body.
At first, the alien was confused as to how the human body func¬tioned. Zeb remembered his body taking its first jerky steps under the alien’s control.
It took a while for Zeb to realize what had happened to him. Never a quitter, Zeb tried to fight the alien for control of his mind. Almost at once, Zeb found himself forced into the background and shut off from any control of his own body.
After awhile, the alien learned the basic functions of the human body, but not before Zeb had soiled his pants. The ripe aroma of feces continually assaulted Zeb’s nostrils before the alien realized this wasn’t the way humans eliminated their waste.
Near the end of the day, Zeb heard, “Zeb, can you hear me?”
Still in a state of shock, Zeb asked, “Who are you? What have you done to me?”
“Who I am is unimportant. I have taken control of your short, furry friend. The one you call Squeeker. I have placed a small part of myself in your mind. It is useless to fight it. What I want to tell you is if anything should happen to me, you will also die. What I require is your knowledge of this world so I can function properly. I could obtain this knowledge by force, but it would destroy your mind. I would rather you gave it freely than have to take it, but I will if I must.”
“What have you done with Squeeker?” Zeb asked.
“I am afraid the small furry animal’s mind was destroyed when I took control of her body.”
Zeb gave a mental sob of anguish. “Why did you have to kill the only companion I had left?” he asked, in a tormented voice.
“Her mind was of no significance to me. If I had left it, it would have caused problems with my controlling the body.”
“Why not take control of me and leave Squeeker alone?”
“Her body suited the plans I have. This way, I share your knowledge and it helps me carry out the job I was created to do.”
“What job is that?” Zeb asked.
“To eliminate the few humans who can stop what is happening to this world.”
“You said you were created. Who created you?”
“Of my creator, I have no knowledge. I only know that I am to stop these humans.”
“Why take on the form of an animal? Why not a human?” Zeb asked.
“In this form, I can control all the animals of this species. My maker deemed these creatures, you call dogs, to be the most efficient predators on this planet. In a few years, your human culture will begin to decay without all the modern tools you have to make life easier for you. In the years to come, many humans will die. They will not have the skills to survive in a world without technology. In the meantime, the dogs will survive and flourish because of their instinct for survival. I shall allow a small percentage of people to live so they can do my bidding. Your kind can do so much more than we can. We will keep some of you around to build the things we need. Mankind will never again be rulers of this world. In fifty years, the human race will be totally dependent on us. That is the plan my maker has set out to accomplish. The only thing standing in the way are these people I am to destroy. My maker has another enemy that is very powerful, but he says he can handle her without too much trouble.”
Zeb’s interest perked up on hearing this. He asked, “Who is this powerful enemy of your maker? Why do you call it her?”
“How little you puny humans know about the world you live on. The enemy I refer to is the planet itself. It may shock you to learn the planet is a living and dynamic entity in its own right. My maker estimates this entity enveloped this world right after it was formed and has been here since then. Because of a complicated set of rules, this entity cannot take a stand openly against us. However, she can and does, indirectly use a few humans to do her bidding. These are the people we are to seek out and destroy. The reason I refer to this entity as her is because the closest description in human terms is mother earth.”
“I’m old, and a little slow, but I’ll be dammed if anything you’ve told me makes any sense at all,” Zeb fumed.
“It does not have to make sense to you, old one. You are only required to show me the things I need to know in order for me to accomplish my task. If you refuse or disobey me, this is a small portion of the pain you will feel.”
Zeb felt a sharp stab of pain at the base of his skull. It increased in intensity as it spread upward. It felt like his head was expanding; at the same time, he could feel a tearing of tissue in his brain. Holding his head between his hands, he let out a long, loud moan of pain. The pressure dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared and left him with a heart-throbbing headache.
“Remember what I have just done, old one, and we will get along. The next time, the pain will be twice as bad and may do some brain damage. Do you understand, old one?”
“Yes, yes, please, no more pain.” Zeb sobbed as he fell to his knees; his head wracked with pain.
So began Zeb’s odyssey. The alien creature dragged him along until they came across Joe’s group. During those months, Zeb learned the creature’s knowledge of humans was incomplete. Carefully, Zeb told the creature that old humans and animals required a lot of rest so their bodies could rejuvenate. Zeb didn’t know what sources the creature sought to confirm this; but it later told Zeb that he understood Zeb had told the truth.
After that, the creature would consult with Zeb about when he should rest. Zeb tried to stop for a rest every few hours, but the creature wasn’t buying he became exhausted so quickly. Finally, the creature settled on a minimum of six hours and a maximum of nine.
Since they traveled a lot, the six hour minimum became routine. Zeb found a way to block the creature’s mind probes when it tried to tell if he was lying. He placed the lie he wanted Org to find on the outside of the door to his part of the brain and waited for the creature to pick it up. Occasional¬ly, he would put out a small lie for the creature to pick up. Once confronted with the lie, he would tell the truth.
In this manner, Zeb confirmed to the creature that it was in full control of his mind. While the creature allowed these extended periods of rest, Zeb would block off his mind and plot ways to foil the creature.
Zeb had pleaded exhaustion the night Joe and his group sneaked away from them. While the creature slept at the foot of his bed, Zeb let enough gibberish filter out of his mind to keep the creature from hearing Joe and his group when they left. They almost made it without Org knowing. Org had posted a large German Shepherd to warn him of such an attempt.
The thing that kept Org from having the dogs tear them apart was the giant timber wolf, Stalker. As the German Shepherd began to raise the alarm, Stalker attacked and ripped out his throat.
Org woke up and asked who wanted him. Receiving no reply, he settled down again.
Using the part of his brain controlled by the creature, Zeb was able to contact one of the dogs outside and follow Joe’s progress. Joe and his group were almost out of the valley when Zeb slipped up and some of his thoughts filtered through to Org.
Org yelped and jumped up on the bed. “How dare you defy me?” Zeb heard in his mind, followed by excruciating pain.
He fought it as long as he could to give Joe a few precious minutes to get further away.
The only reason Zeb’s brain wasn’t damaged was because the creature realized what Zeb was doing. It broke off the mental attack to issue orders for the dogs to attack Joe and his group.
By then, it was too late, Joe and his people had crested the ridge and were on the other side traveling rapidly downhill. Org ordered a dozen of the dogs to follow them.
It was a night Zeb would rather forget. The creature tortured him all night, with enough pain to cause him torment, but not enough to damage his brain. Zeb still had a persistent dull headache from the episode that wouldn’t go away.
“We must find shelter until they leave the mountain,” Org informed him. Org turned and trotted toward the town of Galaxie.
Zeb followed him through the light dusting of snow. Everywhere he looked, he saw dogs tearing meat from human bodies. There were thousands of them in the valley leading up to the tunnel. All of them were gaunt from lack of food. Ahead of him, Org trotted through the feeding dogs without glanc¬ing around. A few were fighting each other over some of the bodies. Zeb guessed there were over a hundred men and women killed by Ben’s attack. Many more of them were killed shortly afterward by the dogs chasing Joe.
Zeb made his way through the dogs to the town. Not much as far as towns go. A few dozen houses and another half a dozen businesses. Most of the places were rundown and trash littered the street. A few cars sat beside the houses with flat tires. It surprised Zeb to see there weren’t any bodies lying on the street.
Apparently, when Ben attacked outside of town, the townspeople rushed to help those under attack.
“Over here,” he heard Org say in his mind. He turned to see Org standing in the doorway of a building.
He walked to the building and entered. The place was a restaurant with tables occupying most of the room. A long counter with stools in front of it ran along the back wall. He walked to a door behind the counter and opened it. The kitchen was a total mess. Half-eaten food was strewn on the floor. The stove looked like someone had thrown a pot of stew on it, then turned on the burners and left it. Open cans littered the floor. A rank smell came from a large, walk-in freezer. From where he stood, he saw spoiled sides of beef hanging in it. He backed out of the kitchen and closed the door.
Behind the counter, he found a few cans of beef stew that hadn’t been opened. He found a can opener and a spoon which he wiped clean on the tail of his shirt. Zeb walked to the front door and took a breath of cold, clean air. Opening the can, he spooned it into his mouth. He watched Org paw through the filth on the floor.
“What are you looking for?” Zeb asked.
“I hope to find something telling me where the leader of the townspeople is located. I know these people were sent here to break into the complex. They were also sent to stop Joe and his group from getting inside. I wish I had known this earlier. The only difference is they want Joe and Ben alive, while I want them dead,” Org replied.
“You knew they were being hunted. Why, you helped them get out of a trap set for them. Why didn’t you enlist their help, then take Joe and Ben away from them?” Zeb asked.
“There were too many of them for me and my creatures to deal with at the time. If you hadn’t interfered, Joe and his group would be dead. I hope you learned your lesson, old one. Oppose me again and I won’t hesitate to destroy your mind. If I have to, I will wait until another human comes near and take over its mind,” Org answered.
Not if I can help it. In the beginning, Zeb discovered he could shield his thoughts from Org. He went on letting the creature think the mind link was complete. At the same time, Zeb built barriers in the portion of his brain occupied by Org. If the creature didn’t discover these barriers in a few weeks, Zeb might be able to block the pain inflicted on him. He knew when the time came to purge the creature from his mind, the portion of his brain occupied by it would suffer some damage. That was a small price to pay for regaining his freedom. Until then, he would try to find out what Org was keeping from him.
Since meeting Joe and his group, Zeb felt Org had done something to one of them which let him know what they were doing. Zeb didn’t believe Org when told he could occupy only one mind at a time. Although Org could block Zeb’s mind probes, he got enough of the creature’s thoughts to know it wasn’t worried about Joe getting away from him.
That meant Org was in the mind of one of the people with Joe. Zeb felt it important to find out which one before he made his attempt to break the mind link with Org.
“You are awfully quiet, old one,” Org said from beside Zeb. Zeb had not noticed the creature come up beside him.
“Just weary, Org. All this traveling by foot has wore me plumb to the bone,” Zeb said.
That was another thing Zeb couldn’t understand. Org was deathly afraid of traveling in a vehicle of any kind. Zeb remembered when they first met Joe. Getting into Joe’s vehicle, Zeb had felt the undercurrents of fear emanating from the creature’s mind. No, this being wasn’t as all powerful as it thought it was. There were things it feared and Zeb hoped to make use of them. He knew Org was terrified of Stalker. Every time the wolf came near Org, Zeb felt fear and hatred emanating from its mind. Too bad the giant timber wolf was dead; surely nothing could live through all the bullets Stalker had taken while fighting with Ben.
“Old one, make yourself a place to sleep. We will stay here for a while,” Org said in his mind.
Zeb went back inside and wheeled a rollaway bed out of the backroom. He swept up some of the litter on the floor and threw it out the back door. Unfolding the rollaway bed, Zeb put it in the corner next to a coal stove. Removing ashes from the stove, he put pieces of kindling in it and started a fire. Zeb sat on the edge of the bed, soaking up the heat emanating from the stove. He asked, “Org, if Todd is as well organized as I think he is, how are you going to get him to come around to your point of view?”
“Right now, I have no wish to control Todd or his people. We are both fighting to gain the same end. Afterwards, we will see. The biggest danger to us both is inside the mountain. I know you don’t understand this, old one, but the people with Joe have a very powerful ally. I do not entirely understand the nature of this force helping them. I do know the force can do nothing by itself. It uses the people it has selected to carry out its plans,” Org told him as he lay beside the stove, basking in the heat.
Sensing Org was in a talkative mood, Zeb decided to get as much information as he could. “Maybe I’m just a dumb old man, but I don’t see how you can hope to control all the humans in the country. I know millions of people have died because of the disease. Millions more were killed by the deranged people like Todd, but there are bound to be many millions still alive,” Zeb said.
“Ah, old one. I do not need to control everyone; just those in power. With them under my control, they can order the rest to do my bidding,” Org said.
Zeb wasn’t one of the smartest humans; but even he could see how Org could gain control of the survivors. Most of the people he had dealt with after the disease were followers. For some reason, the disease caused them to be unable to think for themselves, only a few of them still possessed that ability. People like Todd and the group on the east coast who took over the government. These people were in power, but their overriding compulsion was to destroy anyone not like them.
“If this disease hadn’t come along, you wouldn’t have the power you have over me and the animals, would you, Org?”
“I would have the power, old one, but as it was then, the forces opposing me were too organized. To have attempted what I am doing now would have failed. The organized forces of government would have seen me for what I am and destroyed me. Now the only ones who know or suspect my existence are Joe’s group and possibly, Todd. Even they do not know of my true existence. They believe you are the one controlling the animals, old one.”
“Maybe you can tell me about this strange connection between the man called Ben and the wolf?” Zeb asked.
“The human, Ben, perplexes me. I could not read him at all. I got surface thoughts and emotions from everyone but him. I could feel a power emanating from him, but I am sure he is not its source. I met a blank wall each time I tried to pick up on his thoughts. As for the wolf, he knows I am not what I appear to be. He knew of the symbiotic relationship between the two of us. I believe that is the only thing that kept him from killing me. It puzzles me how an animal could figure out that by killing me, he would also cause your death. Could it be that these creatures, like the one called Stalker, are smarter than humans? Many things puzzle me about this group of Joe’s. For instance, why was it so important for the woman, Tony, to reach this place? At first, I thought it was to destroy me. Now, I am not so sure. The thoughts I picked up indicated she did not know the purpose which she was brought here to fulfill.”
“Do you know what’s behind the doors of the mountain they went in?” Zeb asked.
“It is a government facility designed for medical research. If I knew why they came here, it would answer a lot of questions. Speaking of questions, old one, why are you so interested all of a sudden?” Org asked.
Zeb felt Org probing around in his mind so he laid out a lie for Org to find. He double-checked to be sure the part of his mind free of Org was sealed.
Org chuckled in his mind. “No, old one, it would do you no good if you got into the mountain. There is no way possible to rejuvenate you and make you younger. Forget that nonsense.”
Good, Org had taken the lie and was satisfied Zeb had no other motives. He watched Org go over and lay down near the stove. He waited until he heard the small dog start snoring.
Cautiously, he sent a mind probe toward Org. He met a blank wall, so he started along the sides of it, probing as he went. He found a weak point and increased the strength of his probe. The fabric parted just a little.
Org’s unfiltered thoughts rushed through the break. The images of millions of dogs formed in his mind. Standing before them was a small mutt, who used to be called Squeeker. Next, came a scene of thousands of humans toiling in fields being overseen by a pack of dogs. Behind all this was a shadowy form, lurking in the background.
Zeb tried to sharpen his focus, but the form wavered and disappeared. The scene wavered and Org sat at the head of a table with a group of men around him. At the other end of the room, some reporters asked questions of a dark-haired man standing behind a podium. On the front of the podium, the seal of the President of the United States was affixed. Zeb saw the flow of thoughts between Org and the man as he answered questions.
Another thought wiped this scene away and Zeb saw Org standing at the head of a vast army. Scenes of this army marching across the country wiping out towns and killing people flashed through his mind. Zeb felt Org’s consciousness begin to awaken, so he quickly repaired the tear and withdrew the mind probe. A moment later, he heard Org ask, “Did you say something, old one?”
“No, Org. You must have heard me thinking,” Zeb answered.
“Good, get some sleep, old one. Tomorrow will be another tough day,” Org said in a sleepy voice.
Zeb lay down on his bed and thought about the things he had seen when he entered Org’s mind. The creature obviously had one of those Napoleon complexes people always talked about in the past. Zeb didn’t understand exactly what that meant; but its dreams fit the description he had heard on the news and from different people. The one thing he hadn’t felt was doubt—Org thought failure was out of the question. He had to find a way to plant a seed of doubt in Org’s mind, especially now that he knew how to enter it. He should be able to do it, if he was careful.
He thought about how people always kidded him when he was younger. Back when he was in his thirties, people liked to have fun at his expense. Most people thought him dimwitted or retarded. This didn’t bother him much, because he lived alone in a shack a few miles out of town.
He went to town only when necessary. He did odd jobs for the ranchers in the area to get money to buy food and clothes. This was all he needed to be happy. Never one interested in material things, he cared less about having a fine car or home. As long as the roof didn’t leak, he was content.
All the ranchers treated him with courtesy and he gave them a hard day’s work for the money they gave him. The only time he had trouble was when he went into town. A few bullies would hang around making fun of him. He didn’t want any trouble, so he tried to ignore them. It always ended up the same. He was thrown in jail for the night after being goaded into a fight.
He never knew why the police chief hated him. He wondered if the man didn’t send the bullies to make trouble.
Zeb could tolerate most things, but the one thing he wouldn’t stand for was people putting their hands on him. The bullies knew this, so they would spend an hour or so calling him names. One of them would attempt to show the others how brave he was by grabbing Zeb and trying to wrestle him to the ground.
In his younger years, Zeb was a muscular man. His hard work for the ranchers left him lean and strong. Without a car and walking everywhere, he’d built up strong leg muscles. The bullies were afraid of him, unless there were three or four of them together.
It always started with one of them grabbing him, and then the rest would jump in. At four-to-one odds, Zeb acquitted himself well. He took his lumps without a sound, but he also got in some good licks of his own. The men never left without a few cuts and bruises. The police chief would break up the fight as soon as he saw Zeb getting the best of them. He would handcuff Zeb and drag him off to the town jail, where he threw him in a cell. He would shout and curse at Zeb for a while, then leave.
Zeb spent the night in the cell without water or food. The next morning, the police chief would let him out and escort him to the edge of town.
Never one to let himself be taken advantage of, Zeb would sneak back into town after dark.
He smiled as he thought of the last time he went into the town before he left the state. The bullies had beaten him almost senseless before the police chief broke up the fight and threw him in jail. His body ached all over that night and his teeth hurt where one of them got in a solid blow to his jaw.
After being escorted out of town, Zeb went to a patch of woods a couple miles away. He washed himself as best he could and waited until dark. Many times before, he had sneaked back to town after a fight. This time, he was bent on a measure of revenge. He found the first man in a bar at the edge of town. Zeb waited until the bully came out to use the outhouse, then beat him until the man lay unconscious on the ground. He dragged his body into the brush in back of the outhouse.
The next bully he found working his job as a stockman at the local grocery store. At the back of the store, Zeb hid behind the large garbage bin used to hold rotting vegetables. He didn’t have to wait long. The man came out the back door carrying a box of lettuce that had gone bad. Zeb waited until the bully raised the box to throw it in the bin. He jumped up and hit the guy across the back with a two-by-four. The man sagged against the bin, his breath knocked out of him. Zeb hit the man in his legs and arms before hitting him on the head. Making sure the bully was still alive, Zeb threw him in the smelly garbage bin.
Next, Zeb walked to the back of the hardware store and jimmied the door. He took a five gallon bucket of tar and a couple feather pillows off the shelves. He put thirty dollars beside the cash register to pay for the items. Carrying them to the rear of the bar, he rolled a fifty-five gallon drum under the air conditioner, setting the bucket of tar on the barrel in front of the exhaust. The hot air against the bucket caused the tar to become gooey and sticky.
He knew where the third man lived, so he left the items behind the bar and went to his house. Knocking on the door, Zeb shouted that the police chief wanted the bully down at the jail. A few minutes later, the bully opened the door as he pulled on his shirt. He looked around, expecting whoever had brought the message to be there. Shrugging his shoulders, the man closed the door and walked to the steps. As he started to walk away, Zeb stood up and hit him over the head with the two-by-four. The bully melted to the ground. Zeb threw him across his shoulders and made his way to the flowerbed in front of the jailhouse. He laid the man on the bricks surrounding the flagpole. Using some of the rope, he tied his victim to the flagpole. He stuffed a dirty sock in the guy’s mouth and tied a bandanna around his head to hold the sock in.
Only one man left and he was the most dangerous one. He went into the jailhouse and dialed the police chief’s number. It rang half a dozen times before a surly voice asked what he wanted. Disguising his voice, Zeb told him there was some trouble down at the station and he should get down there at once. The police chief told Zeb he would be there in a minute.
Zeb went through the desk drawers in the office. In one of the drawers, he found an old ski mask. Since no one had seen him, he pulled the mask over his face. He turned out all the lights in the office, except the one on the desk. He threw the two-by-four away and picked up a nightstick hanging on the wall. When he saw the headlights of the police chief’s car pull into the parking lot, he went over and stood behind the door.
The police chief rushed into the office. “What in the hell is so imp—” was as far as he got. He started to turn around with a puzzled look on his face. Zeb stepped up behind him and brought the nightstick down on his head. He caught the chief under the arms as he slumped. Dragging him out the door, Zeb placed him next to the man tied to the flagpole. Zeb went back into the office and took two sets of handcuffs from the top drawer. Going to the flagpole, he untied the first man. Zeb put the handcuffs on him so the only way he could get loose would be to slip the cuffs over the top of the pole. He cuffed the police chief in the same way after he gagged him.
Zeb went to the rear of the bar and tested the tar. The bucket was hot and the tar in it was a little runny. He carried the tar and pillows back to the flagpole. He stripped the first man and the police chief. Using a stiff brush, he slowly spread tar over them. The men were a pitiful sight by the time he finished.
The police chief regained consciousness as Zeb tore open the pillows. He mumbled around the gag and struggled to get loose.
Zeb watched him for a moment. Black tar oozed from the top of his head and fell to the ground, forming a hardening pool in the chilly night air. His skin was covered with tar. He had a hard time gripping the flagpole as he stood there seething with rage, watching Zeb.
Zeb grabbed two hands full of feathers and spread them on the men. After both pillows had been emptied on the men, Zeb chuckled at their appearance. They looked like some kind of strange black and white birds. After giving the police chief the finger, he walked out of town.
A little way out of town, he took
off the ski mask and threw it in the stream. He still got a chuckle
out of thinking about the sight that met the townspeople the next
Thinking of Squeeker caused an ache in his chest. Yes, Org has a lot to pay for and I want to be around when you get yours. Zeb considered the ways he could do it as sleep overtook him.