Mom had taken me and as much as she could fit in the Bronco in the middle of the night.

My dad was working that night. Like he always did. I didn't find out until later that he wasn't exactly a "Security Guard" like he and mom had told me.

I had no idea what was happening when she woke me up, carried me, and laid me down on a mattress she had set up in the trunk of our family's massive vehicle. My bed was made in the trunk, complete with pillows, a blanket, and some of my stuffed animals. I remember seeing a few suitcases too. I thought there were tears streaking down her cheeks, but I wasn't lucid enough to know for sure.

By the time I woke up it was daylight again. We were in the middle of the desert.

I didn't really understand what was happening. I thought we were on our way to visit my grandfather, Baba Jarid. He'd decided to settle in the Mojave. As I'd find out much later he preferred the scorching sunlight. He thought it kept him safe after he retired and my dad took up the family "business".

Mom seemed tense and wasn't talking much. We had a few meals on the road then finally stopped for the night in Tonopah, Nevada. The old lady at the desk was surprised to see any strangers coming by at this time of the night that were heading away from Yosemite. Before we left the next morning she warned my mom that there wasn't much in the direction we were heading. I think that's what she wanted.

We kept up this pace for another day. Mom never liked going faster than the speed limit in the Bronco. The look on her face most of the time kept me from asking questions.

I was a really quiet kid anyways. As hard as that is to believe now. Whenever we went on long road trips I'd always stare out the window and let my imagination take me places. See, this was back before the days of Nintendo DS, iPods or cell phones that had wireless internet and touch screens.

Occasionally mom would look over and ask me if I was okay. She probably thought that the trauma of being taken away from my father in the middle of the night had caused me to go catatonic. That wasn't it. I was lost again in my own world.

I'd fallen in love with superheros as a kid. Most times I was always day dreaming that I was one. I learned pretty fast not to complain when I was bored. So as soon as looking out the window no longer became interesting, I retreated into my own little world of super powered beings and diabolical villains.

No wonder when I was offered the opportunity to become the Hunter I took it. I'd spent my whole life imagining I was some extraordinary being as a coping mechanism.

Late the second night mom pulled off the highway in Show Low, Arizona.

It'd be one of many final destinations we'd reach on the run from the 'Masons.

A decade later I'd find out there was no running from fate. No matter how hard you tried.

We'd stopped somewhere in Colorado for the night. But mom was convinced that Colorado was too crowded during the ski season to stay hidden from my father and the 'Masons.

Instead we went even further north, not stopping until we pulled of the road in Valentine, Nebraska.

Mom had no other choice but to work a real job, complete with tax forms to fill out in Valentine. I was enrolled in another school and learned that Valentine was the seat of Cherry County.

Mom worked nights at the local hospital, scrubbing toilets while I slept. The winter hit harder in Valentine then I'd ever seen. Mom was nervous to drive in the snow even though the family vehicle was a beast. On some nights she'd get rides from a doctor friend of hers. I always wondered what lies she was telling this new guy about my father. I always thought this angrily as I watched them drive off each night.

I wasn't as alone here as I was in other towns. A family of six was staying in the same motel we were staying at. The Behms had come to the U.S. on the say so of their father, who was a pro-boxer in Ireland. He was on the amateur circuit in the U.S. and sent money when he could. Nebraska had been the last state Mrs. Behm would let her husband lug her and her family to. She'd decided to stay and chose Valentine because of Saint Valentine. Her five sons definitely cursed like Catholics. I went to church with them on some Sundays. I don't really know why.

The younger boys fast became my constant companions. Valentine had more than enough rivers, streams, waterfalls, and forestland to appease our youthful adventures. It was the closest I'd ever come to having brothers. I'd always envied boys who had brothers as a kid. I didn't realize that having them meant daily beatings. I didn't give as good as I got until one of the older boys took me aside and taught me the skills their father had taught them. The next time he was in town he remarked that I was a natural when he watched me and one of his sons go at it over who got to be Superman and who got to be Batman.

Every few weeks Mr. Behm would stop by and teach us all more of his craft. We learned the contradictions of boxing. Want to punch with your left? You turned on your right foot. Want to counter with the right? You stepped on your left. Eventually I got so good at it that all of his sons refused to spar with me. I started challenging kids older than me at school. I got my ass beat lots of times. But as any good fighter knows, it comes with the territory.

Mom and I lived comfortably in Valentine for a while. We were getting on to a year and I was even being decent enough to let her introduce me to her doctor friend. He seemed nice enough. Except nerdy and stiff, like most doctors. Nothing like my old man. And not even close to how awesome Baba Jarid is. He seemed like he didn't approve of all the fighting I did. Mom had to intervene when I challenged him to a match to show him that I was my own father when my real dad wasn't around.

Everything was fine until a fateful night when we got a knock on the door. It was one of the few that mom didn't work. She answered it and a man with a blond comb over was standing outside in the parking lot of the motel.

?Good evening ma'am.? He said, smiling kindly the whole time.

Mom was just a little nervous. ?Can I help you with something??

?Are you Olivia Nagadari??

Mom shook her head and gave the man a false smile of reassurance. ?I think you must have me mistaken sir. My name is Patricia Mancini.? Mom was using her mother's maiden name, and her great grandmother's first name to throw off the 'Masons and my father. It wasn't as effective as she thought.

The man wasn't that easily swayed. He removed the white fedora from his head and tucked it under his arm. He was a portly thing, but even looking at him then I wasn't afraid of him. ?Are you sure you're not Olivia Nagadari? And that's not Jochin over there?? He'd gotten the pronunciation of my name too perfect for comfort. He pointed at me and I got up from the bed. I was going fight this guy even though it looked like all he was fighting was incontinence.

?I honestly don't know who you're talking about. My son's name is Joe. My name is Patricia Mancini. Now if you will excuse me, my son needs to go to bed.?

?No problem ma'am. I'll just be on my way.? Mom shut the door, paced the room for a moment and sat down on her bed next to the phone.

?What's wrong mommy?? I felt the tension in the air.

She picked up the phone and dialed. ?Yes, hello, there is a man outside my door and he refuses to leave me alone. I'm at the motor lodge, room #15.?

The police came and arrested the man in a few minutes. It was the most the sheriff's department had to do in that town in a long time. And although we were outsiders the sheriff wasn't going to have strangers coming into Valentine and bothering the populace.

When I finally got to know Cavanaugh better he laughed about how it was the first and only time he'd been in cuffs. Of course by the time he'd gotten down to the station and booked the 'Masons got him out again.

By then mom and I were long gone, and Valentine was nothing but a memory.