The sun shone on the weary form of Matt Houston as he reclined on the deck of his sea front home. Vaguely he heard gulls cry in the distance as he drifted off into a much needed sleep.

The past six months had been exhausting ones. First there was the return of Andre, the Chindi Wolf Witch, who had tormented him and Leslie before he had been killed in the fall at the old zoo. Houston shivered unconsciously at the memory of the madman with seemingly magical powers who had sought revenge upon him.

Then came months and months of never-ending cases. The last one resulted in his own kidnapping and near death. Had it not been for the combined efforts of his Uncle Roy, CJ, and Lt. Hoyt, Houston knew that the only reminder of him would have been his obituary in the newspaper. Still, it had been a nerve wracking and exhausting affair which had left him totally drained and though he hated to admit it, very much on edge.

In his dream state Houston relived the confusion, pain and fear he felt while being held captive in the tiny wooden box his abductors had placed him in. Breaking out in a cold sweat Houston heard a voice. "No," he thought. "this isn't right. You're not supposed to be here, you're dead."

The voice rang out again, this time even plainer. "Two inches, the distance between the bars of a cell. Now you know how it feels to have others control your life."

Houston woke with a start, the sweat now dripping off of him. He swallowed, gathering his composure. "It was just a dream," he reassured himself. "Just a bad dream."

Rising, he went inside to get himself a cool drink. Pouring the iced tea he set the pitcher on the nearby counter. Raising the glass to his lips he began to drink ... the glass slipped from nerveless fingers as he stared in disbelief at the wolf's head staring back at him from its resting place on the nearby sofa. One word quietly escaped his lips, the name 'Andre'.

Hoyt arrived in the midst of a heated discussion. "He'd dead, Houston," CJ was saying. "You saw him fall."

"I know it sounds crazy, CJ, but how else can you explain that wolf's head on my living room couch?"

Roy Houston and CJ exchanged worried looks. They both knew the hell Houston had been though these least few weeks. "There has to be some explanation," Roy Houston said gently. "Andre is dead."

"I'm not so sure," Hoyt added uncertainly from behind them. They all swung to face him. Houston's eyebrows rose in question as Hoyt continued. "I received word at my office this morning that the
Parkdale Cemetery had been vandalized. One grave was dug up and the body missing."

"Let me guess," Houston said knowingly. "Andre."

Hoyt didn't have to answer. The look on his face told everyone that Houston had guessed correctly.

CJ felt the bite of cold fear in the pit of her stomach. "But why, who would do such a thing?"

Houston stared past them in thought. "Andre said he wasn't like other men."

"Surely you don't believe that, Houston, Hoyt questioned, forgetting his own doubts of a moment ago. "If the fall hadn't killed him, the bullet you pumped into him surely would have. No," he said, shaking his head, "there has to be a logical explanation to whatever is going on here."

"You know what I think," Roy Houston ventured. "I think somebody else is behind this. Someone who knows that transpired between Matt and Andre. Someone who wants Matt to think that Andre is alive."

"But who and why?" his nephew questioned.

"That, Matlock, is what we have to find out."

Houston slept at the office that night, his Uncle Roy taking a adjacent room. Even CJ stayed late under pretense of wanting to see if Baby could come up with any answers as to who might be behind this, when in reality she, like the others, was concerned about Houston.

Looking paler and even more exhausted than before, Houston rose after a restless night filled with disjointed nightmares of Andre. His hand trembled slightly as he held a cup of steaming hot coffee. CJ eyed him worriedly, then picked up the nearby ringing phone. "Fine," she said into the receiver. "Send him right up ... That was the lobby," she told Houston as she replaced the receiver in its cradle.. "They're sending up a messenger with a package for you."

Meeting the elevator just as its doors opened, she took the parcel from the messenger and then sent him on his way with a tip. Handing Houston the envelope, she went to get them more coffee.

Houston turned the envelope over in his hands. There was nothing to indicate where it had come from, just his name and address were present. "That's funny," he thought. Tearing open the envelope the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he pulled out an 8 X 10 photo. It was photo of himself apparently taken yesterday as he rested on the sun deck. However this is not what disturbed him. Instead, it was the mutilation of the photo that effected him the most. Where his neck should have been the photo had been torn out as if by some savage animal. He laughed silently at the absurdity of the thought.

CJ returned to find him staring at the photo. "What is it, Houston?" Wordlessly as he handed her the photograph. Barely, she caught the gasp that threatened to escape her lips as she looked at the photo. Turning it over she received an even greater shock.

Houston saw the look on her face. "What is it, CJ?"

Although not wanting to, she realized she didn't have any choice but to tell him. "There's a message."

"Well," Houston questioned tersely. "What does it say?"

CJ swallowed hard, then read aloud as the disbelief in her thoughts was evident in her voice.

"It says, Chindi's never die, Houston. They live for revenge."

An oppressed silence echoed throughout the office only to be disturbed when Houston's Uncle Roy came into the room with a cheery, "Good morning, everyone." The silence and tense expressions of the other two people in the room caused him to stop dead in his tracks. "What is it?" he questioned. CJ handed him the photograph. Examining it he shook his head. "We've got to find out who's behind this. Any luck with Baby?" he asked CJ.

Looking up at his uncle, Houston answered for her. "We know who's behind it... Andre."

Hoyt's entrance interrupted any reply. The weary lines on his face told them that he too had had little sleep. Sitting down with a sigh he helped himself to some coffee.

"Looks like you've had a rough night," CJ commented.

"I did, worked all yesterday afternoon and late into the night trying to get a lead on who might have stolen Andre's body."

CJ leaned forward in the chair. "And did you?"

Hoyt remained silent for a moment, then replied. "Yeah, I did, but I'm not sure you're going to believe what I found out. I'm not sure I do; it's impossible."

"What is it, Lt.?" inquired Roy Houston.

Speaking slowly and with evident disbelief, Hoyt enlightened them. "No one remembered seeing anyone or anything suspicious before Andre's body was discovered missing. However, the caretaker did recall a tall blond man asking him where the grave was just two days before that." A tenseness lay heavy in the air as Hoyt continued. "I showed the caretaker a picture, he identified Andre as the man he had spoken to."

Houston, whose nerves were already on edge from the ordeal of his recent kidnapping, erupted in an outburst of anger and certainty. "I told you. Andre said he wasn't like other men."

"I don't care what he said," Hoyt's own anger flared, more from a feeling of frustration and concern for his friend's state of mind than anything else. "Dead men just don't miraculously come back to life. And he 'was' dead."

Houston remained undaunted. "I think the key words here is -- was."

It was clear to all that no amount of arguing was going to change Houston's mind. "Matlock, you've been through a lot lately. There's really no need for you to stick around here. We can find out who's behind this. Why don't you go up to the cabin until all this blows over?" His uncle suggested.

"I'm not crazy, Uncle Roy," Houston defended himself angrily. "I don't need a rest and I'm not about to run away from Andre. We're going to settle this, he and I once for all." And with that Houston sat down his cup of coffee and strode out of the room.

"I don't know who's behind this," Hoyt said as his eyes followed Houston's departure. "But I'm going to find out."

"We're going to find out," Roy Houston corrected. Everyone nodded in agreement.

Glancing at his watch for the tenth time in two minutes, Houston looked up with a sigh. "There are at least a half dozen things I'd rather be doing right now," he thought, "than giving this interview." But Rebecca Hughes was an old friend and he had promised her. Once again he glanced around the elegant restaurant, eyes searching for Rebecca. The place was crowded but he knew he'd have no trouble spotting her. Nobody could miss a woman as strikingly beautiful as she.

As if on cue, she entered the room.

Spotting Houston, she came straight to the table. With a greeting he rose as the waiter seated her. Resuming his chair, they ordered dinner. Then after quickly catching up on old times, they set about the task that had brought them here. Normally Rebecca was aggressive when going after a story, but knowing Houston so well she curbed her normal impulses and went slowly and carefully about the interview. She could tell from looking at him that the kidnapping had been quite an ordeal for Houston. She had always thought he could handle anything that life might throw his way. But the haunted look in his eyes told her different. They had been talking about twenty minutes when their dinner arrived.

The conversation continued as another waiter brought them more coffee. Refilling their cups he began to move away. "Enjoy your dinner," he said sweetly.

The conversation ceased abruptly as Houston looked up in shock, the voice was familiar. The waiter, now a few feet away, turned and looked at Houston, a sly smile spread across his face. One word screamed in Houston's mind -- Andre. Rising abruptly he reached for the gun concealed beneath the back of his jacket. However he rose too quickly and became entangled in the chair. Both fell to the floor with a loud crash. Quickly recovering, Houston got to his feet looking for Andre. However, Andre was nowhere to be found.

"Where did he go?" he asked Rebecca, oblivious to the outburst of confusion the incident had caused in the room.

"Who?"

"Andre -- the waiter." he clarified. Rebecca shrugged in response, then looked after Houston questioningly as he took off in pursuit of Andre. Houston nearly knocked over the chef as he tore through the kitchen and out the rear door of the restaurant. Looking up and down the narrow alley he saw no sign of Andre's having even been there. He searched further but the search proved fruitless as Andre disappeared without a trace.

Disgust was written on Houston's face as he walked into the office, a deathly silence greeting him. Cocking an eyebrow in question , he called out. "CJ?" There was no response. "Uncle Roy?" A foreboding washed over Houston as no one replied. Slowly he advanced into the room, afraid of what he might find. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found. It was a scene out of a nightmare. Blood was everywhere, as still more poured out of the mutilated bodies of his Uncle Roy and CJ. A wave of emotion struck Houston full force -- disbelief, shock, anger and yes --hatred. Never before had he hated so much. He looked away from the gruesome scene, unable to bear the sight any longer. What he saw next sent a chill down his spine. Written on the wall in blood was a message that could only be meant for him. It read, 'YOU'RE NEXT'. Houston turned away in anger, screaming out in protest. "Nooooo".

Houston sat up in bed with a start. A gentle breeze ruffled the nearby curtains and gave the sweat-soaked Houston a chill. Relieved, he tried to reassure himself. "It was just a dream. Just a bad dream."

Later that afternoon Hoyt called Houston into his office. CJ and Roy Houston accompanied him. " We received a complaint about your little show at the restaurant last night," he told Houston.

"It was Andre," Matt insisted. "What was I supposed to do? Let him serve us coffee and then just walk away?"

CJ interrupted Hoyt's reply. "Is the owner going to press charges?"

"No, I assured him that Houston would make restitution on any and all damages."

CJ nodded. "I'll take care of the arrangements."

Houston had had enough. He rose abruptly from the chair in an attempt to cool his rising anger. "Have your men come up with any leads on the messenger?"

Hoyt answered slowly. "They were able to track the messenger through the company's records."

"And?" prompted Houston.

"The man remembered the customer and was able to give us a name and address on him. They proved to be phony ..."

"I hear a but somewhere in here," Roy Houston commented.

"But," Hoyt hesitated.

"But what?" Houston questioned. "Come on Hoyt, out with it."

"But he was able to identify a photograph of the customer. It was Andre."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you all along."

"I won't believe that , Houston," stormed Hoyt. "I don't believe in ghosts."

""What would you believe? That there's another madman running around out there that just happens to be the mirror image of Andre." Something clicked in Houston's mind.

On that note the interview was concluded. Hoyt escorted them to the hall. "I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah, right," Houston replied sarcastically. Then a look of recognition crossed his face. Spotting a man he thought he recognized, he started towards him but stopped as a uniformed policeman, the object of Houston's interest, turned to look at him questioningly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled an apology. "I thought you were somebody else."

"Matlock," his uncle told him in obvious concern. "You just can't keep seeing Andre around every corner. It's not good for you. Especially after what you've been through recently ..."

"Andre said he wanted to torment me," Houston told them. "Just like I tortured him all those months he was in prison. It looks like he's succeeding."

"What are you going to do?" asked Hoyt.

"I'm gonna get to the bottom of this."

"How?" wondered CJ.

"It looks like the only way I'm gonna get some answers is to start looking for them where all this began." And with a look of determination he turned and started down the hallway. The remaining three looked at each other questioningly.

"Has Baby come up with anything?" Hoyt asked CJ.

"Nothing but dead ends." She looked contrite. "Sorry, poor choice of words."

"Take care of him," Hoyt told them. "Whoever is doing this knows just the right buttons to push."

"We will," they assured him.

Hoyt nodded his thanks, then returned to his office as the other two followed after Houston. All had failed to notice the man at the nearby coffee machine. Tall and blond, he stood there looking after them as a maniacal smile marred his normally handsome features.

When they got back to the office Houston did not wait for CJ or his Uncle Roy, but went straight upstairs. When they arrived they found Houston reviewing Andre's file. He seemed particularly interested in Andre's childhood, when he was known as Alan Garvey.

"Find what you were looking for?" his uncle questioned.

"No," Matt replied, disappointed. "But I have a feeling that's the place to start looking."

"The Navajo reservation?" CJ queried. "What do you expect to find there?"

Houston looked at them, his face set with determination. "Some answers." Going to a nearby cabinet, he withdrew a pistol and carefully loaded it and his pocket with bullets. Satisfied that he was ready, he headed for the helicopter.

"This is crazy, boy." His uncle called after him as he and CJ followed Houston out onto the terrace.
Matt spun around to face his uncle, anger flaring in his dark eyes as Roy Houston continued. "The man is dead. Whoever is doing this is very much alive and here is Los Angeles. Traipsing around some Navajo reservation isn't going to do anyone any good, least of all you. Look, if you want to get away for a while, why not take a few days and go up to the cabin?" he suggested once again.

"I'm not running away from this, Uncle Roy. I know Andre is behind this. I don't know how. But I'm going to find out even if I have to trace his life step by step, starting with the Navajo reservation."

"At least let us go with you," CJ suggested, her voice laced with concern.

Houston's hard demeanor softened a little, touched by CJ's concern. "This is something I have to take care of myself. It's between me and Andre."

A chill rippled through CJ at the mention of Andre's name. Although fearful for Houston she nodded her understanding. "Take care," she told him.

"I will," he assured her and, with a quick glance at his uncle, he was in the chopper and gone.

CJ looked after the quickly disappearing helicopter. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Roy Houston echoed her statement. "You know what, so do I."

The arid desert air parched Houston's throat as the jeep he was driving sped across the desolate terrain. Although it was hot, it didn't have as much effect as it would have had in LA because the humidity here was so much lower. Still, Houston longed for a nice cool drink and felt like kicking himself for not having brought one. He hoped the reservation was not too far away.

Driving over a small ridge he pulled the jeep up short and looked with surprise, disbelief, and compassion at the reservation before him. Ramshackle houses stood about is disarray. But it was the people; that affected him the most. The old people walked with shoulders slumped, yet the ember of pride which burned in their eyes was reminiscent of years long ago. The young men and women seemed a paradox of today and yesterday. Although dressed in the garb of the eighties, you could sense their feelings of discontent of the present, fear of the future and yearning for the independence and pride of the past. While the children, which scampered about, seemed content and as yet unaware of the prevalent conditions that their heritage had bestowed upon them.

Houston was saddened at the sight of a once proud people forced by the injustice of humanity to live in such deplorable conditions. Shaking loose this thought he drove to the small nearby general store which sat on the outskirts of the reservation.

It was here that Andre's parents had run the general store during his childhood years. It was here where Houston would begin his search for answers.

Houston could feel the stares of the nearby people burning into him as he went into the small antiquated store. Once inside he was amazed to discover that, aside from a few modernization's , the store appeared to have remained virtually unchanged from what it must have looked like many years ago. Despite the contrast of the fluorescent lights, refrigerated coolers and modern day products on the shelves, one could almost believe that they had gone back in time.

Reaching into a nearby cooler Houston picked out a Pepsi and went to the counter to pay for it. The middle aged Navajo who took his money seemed a bit leery of this stranger in their midst and was a bit standoffish when Houston tried to exchange pleasantries. Still, Matt was not about to be put off by his attitude and once he had quenched his thirst he began to inquire into what had brought him here.

"I was wondering if you could help me," he ventured. "I'm trying to locate a couple that used to run this store. Their name was Garvey."

From the man's reaction Houston could tell he had hit a nerve, so he was surprised to hear the man tell him, "Never heard of them." Then he clearly dismissed Houston as he went about his business.

However, Houston remained undaunted and pursued the matter. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. It's clear from the look on your face that you do know them. And I'm not leaving here until I get some answers."

"The man said he didn't know them."

Matt whirled around at the voice. Where they had come from he didn't know, but standing there were five of the largest men he had ever encountered.

"But you don't understand how important this is to me. I...

The tallest men cut him off. "We don't like strangers coming around here asking a lot of questions. You will leave now."

"Friendly bunch, aren't you?" Houston staunchly told them. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. I've come a long way to settle an old debt, and I'm not leaving here until I do." And with that he strode past them out into the glaring sunlight.

Once outside he looked around, uncertain as to what his next move should be. Above the everyday noise of the reservation a faint 'psst' sound reached his ears. Eyes searching the direction from which it came from which it came, he spotted a young Indian woman beckoning to him from beside the building. He waited for her to speak.

"I heard you ask my uncle about the Garvey's," she began.

"He wasn't very helpful," Houston explained. "Neither was the little welcoming committee that dropped in unannounced."

The young woman dropped her head as if in shame. "The Garvey name is much feared among our people. It's said to be dangerous to talk to outsiders about them, or bring danger or harm to them for fear of..." her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"For fear of what?" Houston prompted. "Please, this is very important to me."

"For fear of reprisal from the Chindi, the Wolf Witch."

"Yes, we've met." Houston replied distastefully. "Do you know where I can find the Garvey's?"

"When I was young I once heard the elders talking about them. They said that the Chindi had killed them for betraying him. Yet when I asked my uncle about it, he became very angry and said that they had simply left on their own. Then he forbid me to ever speak about it again."

"Does he know where they went?"

She shook her head. "He won't talk about it even if he does. No one will... expect perhaps..."

Houston felt a surge of hope. "Who"

"The old one. If anyone could tell you it would be she. I've heard it said that she fears no one, not even the Chindi."

"Where can I find her? "

"She lives on a small rise at the far end of the reservation," she told Houston. "Head along this road northwest and her's is the last house you will see." She looked anxiously about her. "Now I must go. I have told you too much already." She turned to leave. Houston stopped her.

"I was wondering why you decided to help me."

"For too long my people have lived under the fear of the Chindi. I believe you are here to free us from him."

"Well, thank you...? "

"Lonnie," she replied.

"Thank you for your help, Lonnie. And if I have anything to say about it, your people will fear the Chindi no more."

With a quick smile of hope she disappeared into the shadows cast by the nearby store. Climbing back into the jeep Houston headed in the direction that Lonnie had indicated. The route took him through the most densely populated part of the reservation. Then their numbers dwindled until he saw only one, house on the rise. Houston was surprised to notice that it seemed in better repair than the others he had seen. Setting aside the thought, he knocked on the door. After a few minutes he heard rustling judged to be in her thirties. Surely this can't be the old one, he thought as she stood there silently eying him.

"I'm here to see the old one," he told her.

Quietly she opened the door further and let him in. Leading him through a narrow hallway and into a small living room of sorts, Houston was surprised to discover that the old one was not a Navajo as he had surmised, but a white woman.

She sat there eying him with a look of superiority. Houston felt strangely uneasy under her scrutiny. "You have come here seeking answers," her voice rang out vibrantly, despite her obvious age, as she motioned for Houston to sit.

"Yes, Ma'am and I was hoping you could help me." She nodded for him to continue. "I'm looking for a family named Garvey. They used to run the general store here several years back."

"Why do you wish to find them?" Even as Houston explained about Andre and events that had led him here he had the strangest feeling that the old woman already knew. "Mr. Houston..." Matt started at hearing her call him by name for he had not introduced himself. She continued, "You seem an intelligent man. Surely you've researched into the legend of the Chindi and must realize that he has powers beyond the normal comprehension of man."

Houston scoffed at what she was saying. "Then what has brought you here, if you do not believe?" Matt felt his facade crumbling. She was right, he was starting to believe. "Don't feel too bad, Mr. Houston. Although the Chindi is powerful, once dead he can not come back to life."

Feeling relieved, yet confused, Houston wondered. "Who then...? "

"Has been tormenting you," she finished for him. "Perhaps I can share some insight into as to who and how."

"I really appreciate that, Ma'am because right now I'm pretty confused."

"As you apparently already know, several years back William and Anna Garvey ran the small general store located on the outskirts of the reservation. They lived among the Navajo for many years and were well liked. Although many among the Navajo felt sorry for them because they knew how much the couple wanted children, yet despite the years of trying they were unable to. Sometimes it seemed as though they had adopted every child on the reservation. Never did a child leave their store without some little treat the Garvey's had given them. Yet despite the joy the children had brought them, they still longed for one of their own."

"But they eventually must have," Houston interrupted her. "Because there was Andre. I mean Alan."

The old woman shook her head. "You're only half right, Mr. Houston." She grinned at the perplexity on Houston's face. "You see, since the Garvey's lived so many years among the Navajo it was only natural that they picked up some of their customs and beliefs."

"I still don't see how..."

"If you'll quit interrupting I'll explain it to you." Bowing his head in consent Houston allowed the old woman to continue uninterrupted.

"Exhausting all possible medical means in order to get Anna to conceive William gave up hope and resigned himself to the face that they they would never have children. However, Anna could not accept the fact and decided to try the last possible avenue available to her. She went to see the medicine man."

"But if modern technology couldn't do anything, for her what did she expect a Navajo medicine man to do? "

"You don't seem to understand, Mr. Houston. The medicine man is the most powerful man among the Indians. He is held in the highest regard because of his knowledge of medicine and the spirits. Anna went to him asking for his help knowing he was her last hope. And help her he did, but in doing so demanded a very high price. Oh, not monetary, something even more precious then that. Anna agreed that he could have anything he wanted, no matter what. He told her that when the time came he would name his price. That very night Anna conceived. William was delighted to learn that after all those years of disappointment their dream would finally come true. For the next nine months the couple was exuberant at the thought of their forthcoming child and Anna in the excitement had forgotten her promise to the medicine man."

"Labor came upon her quickly, there was no time to get her to the hospital which was many miles away. The only one who could possibly attend her was the medicine man. However, when his name was mentioned for some reason a stab of fear went through her and she refused to see him. William, fearing for her safety, sent for him anyway. When he asked to see her alone he told Anna that the time of reckoning had finally come. That he would now name his price. He demanded her first born. So horrified by what she had heard, Anna went into a state of shock, blanking out everything else that happened that night. However, when she finally came out of it she was surprised and relieved to find a beautiful baby boy squirming in her arms. She assumed that for some reason the medicine man had changed his mind allowed her to keep the baby."

Houston, who had been listening for some time with rapt attention, became exasperated. "I still don't see how this explains what's been happening to me."

"Oh, but it does, Mr. Houston. Because what Anna didn't know at the time was that there were two children born that night. And, as he demanded, the medicine man had taken her first born."

A light was beginning to down in Houston's mind. "So that explains it, there is -- were," he corrected himself, "two of them." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I was beginning to believe that..."

"You were going mad," the old woman finished for him.

"It was either that or believe that Andre really did have some kind of supernatural powers." The old woman smiled knowing as Houston continued. "So it's Andre's brother who has been trying to drive me insane. But I still don't see how he could have known. I mean, he knew things that Andre had said to me word for word. How is that possible? "

"As in the case with most twins, Mr. Houston, there is an unexplainable bond, where one can feel or even know what is happening to the other.  In the case of Alan and his brother that was even more true because, you see Alan and his brother were more then just twins, they were the mirror image of each other. They were never whole, never quite complete unless they were together. And yet because of their bond they were never apart." A tinge of hatred crept into her voice. "Until now."

Houston was taken aback a bit by her tone, yet decided to ignore it. "You said that Anna didn't know at the time there was another child. When she did find out."

When he was a child Alan spoke of his brother incessantly. Anna thought it was just a childish game of make believe, yet deep down she had an uneasy feeling that it was true. Finally she went to the medicine man and demanded her child. He didn't deny it but told her that the child was no longer hers or his but belonged to the spirits who had given him life. She threatened to tell the authorities, but he just laughed and told her that they would believe her mad because there was no proof that the other child existed."

"Realizing he was right Anna went home in tears. Alan comforted his mother and told her that one day they would all be reunited. And he would vowed that the medicine man would pay for the unhappiness he had caused her. for many years after that Alan studied the Navajo way, eventually he became a Chindi of great power and as he promised took his revenge upon the medicine man. Unfortunately Alan's father found out about it and was going to turn his son over to the police."

"You say unfortunately, why? " Houston asked her.

"Because in order to keep from going to jail Alan killed his father."

It was Houston's turn to be horrified. How could any child kill their own parent. "What happened then? "

"Anna thought it best if Alan went away for a while. So he went into the service."

"Yeah," Houston commented sarcastically. "Where he learned to kill even more efficiently. I know what transpired in the years after that, but what about his brother, what happened to him? "

"As Alan had promised, his mother and brother were reunited. However, Anna thought it best if they kept the fact that their was another child to themselves so she kept Alan's brother out the sight of others. But of course there were times when he was spotted by others on the reservation. And since they knew Alan had gone away, the stories of..."

Houston finished it for her. "Him being the Chindi flourished even more." She nodded that his assumption was correct. Matt ventured a question. "Andre's brother, was he like Andre? "

"You mean did he become a Chindi? Yes, what one became so did the other. For their lives were intertwined so closely, they were as one."

"Well at least now I know the who and the how, and I can guess the why. That just leaves unanswered question. Where do I find him? "

"Among the Navajo it is believed that a Chindi's soul may be brought back from the spirit world during the ceremony of rebirth. It is my belief that Alan's brother has taken him to Wolf's Canyon. Where if the ceremony is successful, Alan's soul will be joined with that of his brother. If he is successful then no one will be able to stop him."

"But that's impossible."

"I have seen stranger things, Mr. Houston. If I were you, I'd try to find him before that happens."

"Well, Ma'am, I'd like to thank you for your help. But I was wondering why you were willing to help me when everyone else was afraid to."

"It's simple, Mr. Houston; the others are afraid of the Chindi, whereas I am not."

Houston wanted to ask why but refrained from doing so. "Can you tell me how to get to Wolf's Canyon? "

"Yes, of course. Make a left onto the road that runs past the general store. You go up that road for about fifteen miles, then you will come to a fork in the road. Take the left one, that will take you straight to the canyon." The interview had been concluded. "Now I will have Dia show you out."

"There's no need, I know the way." He turned to leave but then turned back to the old woman. "One last question. Andre's brother, what's his name? "

"His mother named him Andrew after his father."

With a final nod he thanked the old woman and showed himself out. After he left Dia came into the room. "I don't understand why you helped him."

"Because, Dia, Mr. Houston is a brave man and has a right to know the truth before he dies. The Chindi feels it is his right."

Dia shivered inwardly at the mention of the Wolf Witch. "Do you wish to send the men after him? "

The old woman smiled, insanity burning brightly in her eyes. "There is no need, my sons shall take care of him."

It was as they had feared. The Chindi had returned and would now be more powerful than ever. Dia ran to warn the others as Anna's insane laughter continued to ring in her ears.

The sun was beginning to set as he arrived at the canyon, it's dying rays creating a russet and umber landscape. Stooping a short walking distance away, Houston got out of the jeep, his eyes surveying the vast canyon. A low whistle escaped his lips. "How am I ever gonna find Andrew in that? It's got to be a good mile wide and lord knows how long."

Then, as if in response to his question, he spotted a light in the distance. "Well, I guess that's as good a place to start." He walked quite a distance into the canyon, the light steadily growing closer. Darkness had descended, impending his progress, but still he ventured on until he came to the light.

The fire was a welcomed warmth for with the setting of the sun it had become cold. It's embers glowed in the darkness as the light it cast danced in psychedelic patterns upon the base of the nearby canyon wall. But Houston knew he must not be beguiled by the welcoming sight as every inch of his inner senses warned him of danger. He did not have long to wait.

"How thoughtful of you to come, Houston," Andre's voice came at him out of vast darkness. Houston spun, eyes searching the direction from which he thought the voice came. "You've saved me a lot of trouble," Andre continued.

"No, it's not Andre," Houston remained himself. "Andre is dead, this is Andrew." Still, he couldn't help wondering. He knew Andre's voice. Everything about him was engraved in Houston's mind right down to the very last detail, and the voice that spoke to him was that of Andre. A chill ran down his spine as he wondered if the physical resemblance was as accurate. He remembered the incident at the restaurant. Even though it had been dimly lit he could have sworn it was Andre who had been there. His attention came back to what Andrew was saying.

"Yes, this is so much more convenient. Now we meet in my territory." His voice turned icy. "And this time I shall be the victor."

Houston tried to locate from which direction the voice came, yet couldn't because it seemed to come from everywhere. "All right, you wanted me, I'm here, so let's cut out these games. Show yourself."

"No, not just yet. First you throw your gun away. I've tasted the bite of your steel once, that was enough."

"This guy's crazy," thought Houston. "He thinks he's Andre."

"That's hardly fair, Andrew, or is killing an unarmed man you style? "

Laughter rang out. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you yet, Houston. We have too much respect for you to simply shoot you. No, we have something more appropriate in mind."

"We?" questioned Houston.

"Yes, we. You see, I'm not crazy the way you seem to think I am. I don't think I'm Andre, I 'am' Andre and my brother is me. We are one now. We are the Chindi -- the Wolf Witch. Now enough of these silly questions. Throw away your gun or die where you stand. The choice is yours."

Easing the gun from beneath his jacket, Houston tossed it aside. All was quiet. The only sound invading its total absence was the gentle cracking of the fire. "That's much better," The Wolf Witch gloated from behind Houston.

Startled, Matt spun around to face his adversary. The total shock of what he saw, written on his face. This man didn't just look like Andre, he was Andre. Right down to the maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"Surprised, Houston?" he asked innocently. His face turned you a mask of hatred. "You thought you had killed me, didn't you? But I told you that the Chindi has powers you can't even begin to dream of. Oh, you might try to deny what you see, but we both know the truth."

"Let's cut the charade, Andrew, and get on with it."

"You in that much of a hurry to die, Houston? All right then, what we are going to do is play a little game of cat and mouse. I'm the cat and your the mouse."

Houston felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach as he guessed what Andrew had in mind.

"The nearest town is twenty miles in that direction." The Chindi said pointing east. "If you make it there before I kill you, you may have your freedom. If not..." he shrugged. "I wouldn't suggest trying to make it to the reservation. You'll find no help there. And your jeep has been disable so I would suggest you start walking. Or should I say running? I give you one hour, then I become the hunter while you, the hunted."

"Why don't you just kill me and get it over with? "

"Because as I told you once before, Houston, I want you to know what it is like to have others control your life. Now run, Houston, run for your life."

Matt knew it was a slim chance, but a chance he must take nonetheless. At least with life there was hope, no matter how insurmountable the odds seemed. So he ran. Into the night, into the unknown.

The Wolf Witch turned and faced the fire. "Revenue shall be ours. Like the Wolf we shall tear out the throat of our prey." He had told Houston one hour. He had waited this long to revenge the death of his brother, Andrew. The Chindi felt remorse at having allowed Andrew to take his place that day at the zoo. One more hour would not make a difference. So Andre sat down to wait the allotted time.

Even the bright moon which dimly lit the landscape did not help Houston much as the rough terrain impeded his movements. He felt at a distinct disadvantage. Having been raised here Andrew probably know the are well, whereas he did not. Still, he knew must try, so after catching his breath he ran, for what was his only chance of survival.

Several times during the night Houston had been started by the unknown sounds; each item he waited for the bullet hat would end hid life. Yet it never came. He had an uneasy feeling that that Andrew was taunting him, playing with him like a cat would a mouse killing it. He also had a feeling that he been running in circles. Daylight proved this guess to be correct.

High above to his right something bright gleamed. Shielding his eyes against the harsh morning sunlight he sought to make it out but couldn't. Deciding to get a closer look he stumbled upon the fire from the previous night. Quickly he glanced around for signs of Andrew (for this is who Matt believed him to be). Finding none he took the trail that had him into the canyon.

The upward climb was exhausting and he knew that only a disabled jeep awaited him. But at least up there was a road perhaps help. The sun beat down on him as his labored breathing grew in intensity. It escaped his lips in gasps as it found its way through his parched mouth. He wanted to stop and rest. More than that he wanted something to drink. But he knew he couldn't stop, his life depended on it. Because somewhere Andrew, or should he say he Andre, the two being so similar in all aspects, was waiting for him.

Only with great effort did Houston reach the top of the canyon. Unable to help himself he collapsed in a heap. Sweat which had broken out on his forehead during the tedious climb stung his eyes. But he just lay there, too exhausted to move or care. Closing his eyes against the glare of the sun he drifted off to sleep, only to have a minute sound startled him awake moments later. He prayed that what he saw was only the last remnant of a bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn't, the Chindi stood over him, lips pursed in a smirk.

Quickly gaining his feet he took a defensive stance. He couldn't help but feel a little irked at the Chindi's neat, well rested appearance, while he knew what kind of disheveled appearance he must have presented.

"Did you have a nice stroll, Houston?" He asked mockingly.

"I'll tell you what I have had, " Houston replied angrily. "Enough of this." He prepared to lunge but pulled up short as Andrew drew a gun on him.

"Tisk, tisk, temper, temper." Andre told him in mock surprise. "A little too much for you, Houston? " His voice filled with rage. "At least you were in the wide open spaces. Not locked up in a small cage with iron bars and concrete walls like some animal. Every day I swore that I would make you pay for what you did to me. I told you I'd be back to get you, to make you pay. Well, you may have won the last time but not this time." He tilted his head to the right. "This time you're going to die."

Houston cocked an eyebrow in defiance as the other man tauntingly began to slowly pull the trigger. So intense was the moment that neither had heard its approach. From beneath the rim of the canyon up flew a helicopter. Momentarily startled but quickly regaining himself, Houston lunged at Andrew, catching him off guard as the helicopter hovered around them. Its blades whipped the air, impeding the movements of the struggling men.

Anger and hatred boiled to the surface as each struck devastating blows to the other. Soon both supported various cuts, bruises and broken bones, each growing more tired by the moment as blood began to stream from their abrasions. Houston feared that Andrew was one up on him since he was already exhausted from roaming the canyon all night. Still, an inner strength born of anger final blow. It came out moments later.

Andrew's last punch had driven him perilously close to the rim of the canyon. Regaining his feet he looked up to see the helicopter bearing down on them. Grabbing Andrew by the front of the shirt he spun him around so that now Andrew's back was to the sheer canyon drop. Then he himself quickly dropped down the dirt.

Andre realized too late significance of Houston's actions as the runner of the helicopter caught him in the chest, hurtling him backwards into the canyon.

Picking himself up, Houston dusted himself off as the helicopter circled around and landed behind him. Shortly CJ and his Uncle Roy joined him at the canyon's edge. All three looked down into the abyss for signs of Andrew's crumpled body, but saw none.

Roy Houston looked over at the bedraggled sight of his nephew. "You all right, boy? "

Houston looked up with a weary sigh. "I just don't know."

"At least it's over," CJ comforted him.

"I wish I could believe that." Houston said, then headed for the helicopter as the other two stared questioningly at his retreating form.

On the long trip home Houston filled his uncle and CJ in on what had happened. "So there was a logical explanation after all, "Roy Houston surmised. "Andrew was just as insane as his brother."

Houston stared out the window, lost in thought. "I wonder..."

"What? " inquired CJ.

"If it was Andre or Andrew who died at the zoo. Or did Andre really come back to life in his brother's body and if so, are they or he finally dead? "

CJ confused. "I don't understand."

"I've been thinking and I distinctly remember that Andre was left handed when I first encountered him."

"So? "

"So the last time he was right handed."

"And this time?" questioned Roy Houston. Houston thought for a moment.

"He used his left." Like a bolt of lightning it struck him. It had been Andrew who had been killed at the zoo. It was Andre who was still alive, or had been until he went over the canyon's edge.

"Maybe he was ambidextrous," CJ suggested.

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Well, at any rate, they're both dead and this nightmare is finally over."

Several days later Houston stepped out, thoroughly refreshed, from a steaming shower. It was the first time he could remember feeling relaxed in months. Towel drying himself off he stepped over to the nearby mirror to comb his freshly washed hair. What he saw in the steaming mirror made him stop dead in his tracks. Newly written, so that words still dripped moisture, was a message. It read, 'I'll be back for you -- Andre'.

Houston cursed softly under his breath. "And I'll be waiting..."