CHAPTER 5

Booker had no idea what was going on; he was standing in an alley somewhere, and the night was dark and stormy. A crying Anna lay in his arms. The investigator's paternal instincts kicked in, and he pulled his baby closer to his chest to comfort her. Suddenly, someone grabbed Booker's forearms in a vice-like grip and yanked him forward. He looked up in shock and saw that man's face glaring back at him.

Comstock began to pull Booker and Anna towards him through a strange, glowing portal. The Pinkerton panicked and struggled against the older man. Anna cried out in fear. Confused and raised voices were also shouting in the background.

"No! Stop! Anna!" Booker cried, trying to pull his daughter away from the crazed prophet. His efforts were in vain; Comstock just would not let go of his arms, and more importantly, his crying baby.

Suddenly, another voice rang out loud and clear amidst the commotion.

"You're hurting her!" It took the Pinkerton a moment to register the sound of a woman's voice.

"She's got to come with me!" Comstock quickly retorted, turning his head to the left. Whoever she was, this woman seemed to be standing on the other side of the opening.

"She's not your child!" the woman yelled back accusingly. Booker feverently hoped that she was trying to help him.

"SHE IS MINE!" Comstock snarled, his face twisted in rage. His grip on the young father's arms tightened painfully, causing him to nearly drop the wailing Anna.

"Aargh! Let me go! Let me go!" Booker screamed in anguish, the terror rising in his voice.

"Let her go! LET HER GO!" The woman shouted at Comstock more forcefully this time.

"She's mine!" The prophet cried again, pulling Booker and Anna closer to the portal as the investigator tried with all his might to escape. Other figured began moving about frantically behind Comstock, working on some large and glowing contraption.

"The window's closing!" Yelled another woman.

"Shut it down. Shut down the machine!" Said Comstock desparately, his voice ragged.

"No, she's not through!" An accented male voice shouted anxiously. Sure enough, Booker saw the glowing portal diminishing in size, with Anna still stuck in the middle.

"Anna! GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!" The father roared with all his strength, tears pricking at his vision. With one last mightly pull, he broke free from Comstock's grasp, tumbling backwards with his infant.

"Oh no, look out!" A woman cried as the window was finally shrinking out of existence.

The young Pinkerton gasped and jumped as he woke. He sat up on the bed, breathing heavily and shaking. That dream...the pain and terror had felt so real. Booker had no idea what it could have meant. Perhaps it was some sort of warning?

Anna mumbled incoherently in her sleep as her father tried to make sense of his vivid nightmare. Booker glanced down and saw her still snuggled against his side. He reached down and stroked her short brown locks gently, as to not disturb her peaceful slumber. Slowly, the Pinkerton's heartbeat slowed to a more comfortable rhythm, as did his breathing.

A soft knocking came at the door. "Mr. DeWitt? It's Dahlia," the receptionist called from the hallway.

"Uh...just a second," Booker responded, stifling a yawn. He smoothed out his shirt and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to look presentable. He eased himself up on his feet and let Dahlia in.

"I hope I didn't wake you, Mr. Dewitt, but someone has come to see you," she told him uneasily, "A young woman."

"Did she tell you who she was? How did she know I was here?" Asked Booker suspiciously, fearing another attack by Comstock.

Dahlia shook her head, clueless. "She didn't say. All she told me was that she needed to give you something."

"Hmmm," Booker mused, rubbing his forehead. That dream from before had left him with a headache. He felt around his waist and cursed under his breath when he realized he hadn't brought his pistol with him.

"Don't worry, I have a couple of officers keeping an eye on her in the lobby." Dahlia reassured him with a small smile, "I don't think she will be a danger to you."

Both adults turned to the bed when they heard a small yawn. Anna was beginning to stir, stretching her little limbs in the air.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Booker chuckled, moving back to the bed and and sitting down next to his daughter. He helped her up, smoothing out the creases from the little dress she wore. The child cooed sleepily, gripping her father's arm for support.

"I do hope your daughter is alright," said Dahlia, coming closer.

Booker shrugged. "She just got really scared, that's all. She seems to be back to normal now." The father frowned, unsure if he should take Anna with him to meet this mystery woman.

Dahlia was able to sense the investigator's insecurity. "I can stay here and watch your daughter if you'd like, sir."

"No, it's alright," said Booker, making up his mind. "Anna would be safer if she stayed with me."

"Of course," Dahlia responded, "I understand."

"Okay, sweetheart, up we go," grunted Booker as he lifted Anna into his still sore arms. He didn't mind, however, and he looked over at the receptionist with determined green eyes. "Let's go," he said.

Dahlia and Booker were silent as they walked down the hallway towards the main lobby. Anna was busying herself with observing everything they passed, giggling all the way. Booker smiled to himself, glad to see that his daughter was still as lively as ever. Still, he did not know what to expect from this person who needed to see him so badly.

When the trio reached the lobby, they were met by another Pinkerton. Booker recognized him as Sean Richardson, an officer his age who had helped him deal with many skirmishes and riots in the streets of New York.

"Hey, DeWitt! How's it going?" Sean grinned, clasping the investigator's free hand. "I see your little one's doing alright," he commented when Anna giggled and reached out to him playfully.

"Today's been one hell of a day, Richardson," said Booker with a tired smile, "Good thing my little girl is still her usual sunny self."

"Did some lunatic really try to kidnap her? That's what Chief told me," said Sean in a more concerned tone.

Booker sighed and shook his head. "Can we do this later, Sean? Dahlia said a woman needed to see me."

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Exclaimed Sean as he led them around a corner. "I'd be careful, Booker. This one wouldn't even tell us her name. Who knows what she's up to?"

Booker gulped and tightened his hold on his daughter. Dahlia remained silent as well. He willed himself to follow Sean, knowing that his fellow officer wouldn't put them in any real danger.

She sat a ways away on a bench, calm and composed next to another Pinkerton, who was standing gaurd. She was dressed plainly in a long, blue skirt and a white top. Booker watched her swing her leg absentmindedly as she waited. There didn't seem to be anything suspicious about her at all.

That's when she raised her head to meet his gaze. Booker felt his heart stop and the world melting away around him as those large, blue irises looked into his soul. The investigator knew that milky-white face, framed by luscious brown locks.

No...it can't be, thought Booker as hidden emotions tried to force their way up his throat.

"A...Alice?" The Pinkerton breathed almost inaudibly.