The Gaia Code

The Whole Story

Prologue

The grassy fields of Wiltonshire County swayed under the press of the wind from an approaching storm. Night storms were not common for this time of year, but there was nothing common about this night. A cloaked figure ran nonsensically through the nearby fields carrying a small cloth satchel. Falling to the ground, the figure removed the hood of its cloak to reveal the daunted face of a young, raven-haired girl.

“Mother said to keep moving.”

She sprang back to her feet and ran, lightning blazing above her in a spectacle that illuminated the night sky with ferocity.
The panic-stricken girl peered behind her and knew. “He’s coming.”
Her panicked flight drove her toward a small wooden shack in the open field.

She began to stumble.
Staggering up the hovel at last, she struggled to unlatch the door, but her hands were shaking with pure fear.
Mindlessly trying again and again, the girl finally managed to unlatch the door and entered. She fell to her knees and crawled to a fallen wooden post.

“Please!” she pleaded, “Goddess, forsake? me. I do not wish of this.”

She rocked back and forth, praying frantically. The storm outside grew. She gasped deeply when the door to the rickety old shack slammed shut frightening her enough to crawl to the far wall to try and break through the wooden boards to escape. She prayed repeatedly, “Goddess, forsake me.”

A dark figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. Lightning in the distance only furthered the menacing appearance. “I am truly sorry for what I must do.” muttered a deep, male voice. The shadowed one walked toward the girl.

As he approached her, she shouted, “Goddess! No!”

From the outside, the interior of the shack lit up, instantly bringing day to the night. A powerful glowing light seeped through the cracks between the wooden planks of the aged wooden shack. Inside, the shadowy figure screamed, and the air crackled.

Moments later, darkness returned to the night, and winds returned to a calm evening breeze. In the night breeze a feminine voice whispered, “Blessed Goddess.”

Chapter 1

New Beginnings

The thick, chilled air felt like steel. Sounds of metal hitting metal echoed through the rooms as heavy doors opened and closed. The air was cold and damp, like the basement of an old house.

Three sets of footsteps fell into rhythm from time to time as they clocked down a corridor of dull-painted metallic bars. The drab-uniformed guards stopped at a cell, one calling out, “Thorogood!”

From the darkness of the cell, a woman’s voice answered, “Yeah.”

The guard placed a key in the lock. “You’re leaving.”� Another guard readied his handcuffs.

“Leaving?”� replied the woman who stepped into the light. She had long, dark hair and was slender, but muscular. “You mean a transfer?”

“No. You’re being released.”

“No. You see, I believe the last thing the judge said to me before I left the courtroom was … oh yeah, ‘Ten years without parole’.”
The prisoner turned back into her cell and sat on her cot. “You geniuses must have made a mistake.”� Grabbing a decades-old magazine, she reclined and said, “Go recheck your paperwork, or find someone who can read it to you.”

The guard in charge of the detachment entered the cell, followed by the newly arrived warden.
“I did read it to them, and it says you’re free to go.”

She looked up at the warden, eyes narrowed in disbelief. He held up a piece of paper, quoting, “‘Lucy Thorogood, the great state of Oklahoma, blah blah blah, time served’.”�

Lucy stood up and tossed her magazine aside. She snatched the paper from the warden, causing the guards to flinch. As she read over it, the warden added,

“You must have friends in high places.”

She looked up at him and growled, “If you’re referring to my father, he wouldn’t do anything to help me.”

The warden turned to leave, “Well, then you must have friends in low places.”

One of the guards held up his handcuffs and said, “Standard procedure.”

Lucy turned around and placed her hands behind her back. She stared, unfocused, toward the floor as the cold steel of the handcuffs clamped down on her wrists, eyes shifting back and forth in thought.

When they arrived at the clerk’s desk, the guard removed her cuffs. She rang her wrists as the clerk placed a manila envelope on the counter, and had her sign for it. She opened it and dumped its contents. All that landed was a butterfly hair clip. She picked it up, opened it, and placed it in her mouth as she gathered her long hair in the back of her head. With an audible click, she clipped a ponytail into place.

Turning to the guards, Lucy asked, “Any of you have cab fare for a girl?”

The clerk spoke up, “Your ride is waiting outside. Your friends said they’d wait there for you.”

Lucy looked at the clerk, “Friends?”

The guards escorted her through a series of gates and hallways, chain link walkways and doors, until they reached the exit.

As Lucy stepped outside, the metal door gonged shut behind her, a sound grown familiar over the past four years. Looking around for “friends” but not seeing any, Lucy stepped out into the parking area as a yellow checkered cab pulled forward and arced around to stop in front of her. The back window rolled down, and a deep male voice said, “Get in.”

The window rolled back up.

Lucy folded her arms and raked the cab with a piercing examination. All the windows were tinted black. She couldn’t see inside at all.
She tapped her foot and waited until the window rolled down again and the man hidden in shadows on the opposite side of the seat said, “Get in, Lucy. Or would you prefer the highway?”

Lucy eyes squinted to see inside but the cab started pulling away.

She stepped off the curb and shouted, “Hey!” The taxi stopped. After a moment, it started backing up to her position. She stepped out of its way and tried for a better look inside.

The passenger leaned toward the open window, and casually pulled his sunglasses down, repeating, “Get in, Lucy. You called us back. It’s obvious you plan on getting in. So get in, and let’s get going.”

Lucy snapped, “Go where?”

The man moved back to his side of the vehicle, but did not answer.

Lucy tapped her foot for a moment, weighing her options, then opened the door and got inside. The window rolled up, and the cab slowly pulled away from the curb.

Inside, Lucy adjusted herself on the cloth seats. She buckled herself in, leaving her right hand casually hovering over the release mechanism.

The man next to her removed his sunglasses completely and extended his hand. “Shepherd. Drake Shepherd.”

She hesitantly shook his hand. Shepherd was a large man. His biceps seemed to want to burst out of his blue suit. He seemed uncomfortable in such fine attire. He opened his briefcase, which only contained a file folder with a picture of Lucy attached to it. Lucy’s face grimaced.
Shepherd opened the folder, “Let’s see here … eco-terrorist, martial arts expert, daughter of Senator Thorogood.”

Lucy corrected, “Estranged daughter.”

Shepherd looked over at her, “Of course.”

“Says here you blew up eight beef processing plants.”

“Slaughter houses,” she corrected.

Shepherd continued, “Five fur factories, six tanneries, and you drove your car through the plate glass window of a fur retailer.” He removed a picture from the folder.

“So?” Lucy’s attitude did not faze Shepherd.

He showed her the picture. “The retailer was in the middle of a mall.” The picture showed a Chevy Volt sitting halfway into a mall store. The vehicle was covered in fur coats and other fur items. The bumper was adorned with a sticker that said, “I brake for animals. Your kids I aim for.”

Lucy looked at the picture, “I miss that car.”

“Twelve people were injured that day.” Shepherd put the photo back in the folder.

Lucy mumbled, “At least their flesh wasn’t ripped off their bodies.”

“So what’s this all about? I don’t think you brought me here to play ‘This is Your Life’.”

Shepherd replied, “We want you to join us.”

Lucy pulled an incredulous face. “We? Who’s we? And as what, a taxi driver?”

There was a feminine chuckle from the front seat.

“Do you see that view outside your window?” Shepherd pointed, as Lucy turned to scan the high speed blur of a busy highway whipping by. “That’s freedom. I am offering you freedom, and depending on how you perform, a further opportunity.”

Lucy stared out the window. The enlightening view of the forest was a welcome site. As the winding road took them further into the depths of the forest, she realized how close freedom was for her. The light flickered through the canopy above. The sun seemed was more vibrant when one was not obstructed by chain linked fences, and barbed wire.

“Hold on!” shouted the driver.

Lucy looked forward to see a large tree falling over directly ahead of them. Lucy braced herself as the cab struggled and screeched to a halt.

Lucy’s heart and mind were racing.

The driver managed to avoid a collision. She turned and looked at her passengers, “Is everyone all right?” Shepherd and Lucy nodded.

Shepherd opened his door and exited the cab, followed by Lucy and the driver.

Lucy followed them to the front of the vehicle. This was the first time she was able to get a view of the cab driver. Young and purple-haired, the girl didn’t strike Lucy as the fighting type.

“I’m Violet. Violet Smyth,” she said, extending her hand.

Lucy just acknowledged her existence with a head nod. Obviously disappointed, Violet pulled her hand back.

“So, what are you? The getaway driver?” Lucy asked sarcastically.

“Violet is a valued member of our team.” Shepherd said approaching the stump of the fallen tree. Shepherd examined the broken stump like a forensic examiner. He swiped his finger across a grey powdery residue, as Violet approached.

She looked down, as Shepherd looked up. Violet noticed the residue. “Stoners?”

Shepherd stood up and drew his weapon. Violet ran back to the trunk of the cab, and opened it. She unfurled a blanket and opened the large metallic case that was hidden underneath it. Inside she removed a one-foot metal rod.

Lucy’s attention was now on Violet as she watched her hold the metal rod in front of her. With the push of a button the rod extended to five feet. Lucy was impressed.

Violet called out to Lucy, “Hey!” Lucy already watching her, acknowledged her with a head nod. Violet tossed the staff to Lucy, who caught it with ease.
The balance of the staff was incredible in her hand. It was curiously lightweight. Lucy began to twirl it around, remembering her martial arts training.
Violet returned to the metal case, and extracted two sai blades. The deadly center rods were sharpened to lethal point.

Violet headed back toward Lucy and Shepherd. Shepherd had his weapon at the ready. He started walking into the wooded area, and signaled Violet and Lucy to follow. Lucy was confused, not knowing what to expect. As a former member of many eco-terrorist organizations, she took it upon herself to learn martial arts. Her psychologist had once told her it would be a great means of venting aggression. “I wonder what Doctor know it all would say now.” She thought.

Shepherd held up his hand, signaling them to stop.

In the distance, Lucy heard a muffled voice. It was a male voice, and who ever he was, she could sense he needed help.
She bobbed around looking through the foliage for the source of the cries. Ahead in the distance was a small wooden shack.
“There.” She pointed in the direction of the structure. She leapt into a quickened stride, as Shepherd called out. “Wait!”

Lucy turned to question his command, but was delayed by a menacing shriek.

Shepherd moved left and right with his weapon drawn, as Violet readied herself.

Lucy turned back toward the direction of the shack. She noticed something approaching, but it was not on the ground. The creature was fast. Before she could react, she was being attacked by it.

“Get down!” shouted Shepherd, but it was too late.

Lucy grunted, as the creature struck her, sending her soaring backward several feet. From her back she could hear several shots being fired by Shepherd.
“Incoming!” shouted Shepherd.

**** Six years ago ****

The white decorative paint on the dark skinned tribesman’s brow crumbled as he scowled.  His name was Mlinzi, and he was the leader of this Tanzania tribe. He and several of his people spoke frantically at the white skinned men now invading their village. The men closest to the Mlinzi carried guns, while the others wore orange hard hats with the logo of their employer, Parkson Development Corporation.

“You … move on.” The tall man pointed to the chief and then away in the hopes he would understand. Vance Oldman was the supervisor of the construction party.

Chief Mlinzi shook his head and waved his arms, signifying his disagreement with the request while shouting, “Hii ni nchi yetu.”

“He says they own this land.,” relayed the translator. Not speaking Swahili, this was the only way Vance could communicate with the tribesmen.
“Tell him the land has been sold to the developers and they must leave.”

The man began to translate, when the chief was handed a document from one of his people. He waived the rolled up document in front of Vance, shouting repeatedly.

“He says the document gives him the land.”

Vance snatched the document and looked at it, as Mlinzi shouted, “Kuondoka au nami wito na mlima anatembea.”

Vance looked over the apparent legal document, with hesitation. He crumbled the document, and looked at the chief. “What is he saying?”

“He said ‘Go away, or he will summon the mountain.”

Vance threw the document on the ground, “He can summon God for all I care.”

Mlinzi shouted loudly and his people responded by pointing spears at Vance and his group. Vance and his immediate team pulled their guns and aimed them at the villagers. Tensions grew quickly. The workers on Vance’s crew moved back a short distance. They were construction workers after all, not soldiers.

Vance, without losing eye contact with Mlinzi, called out, “Thompson, fire up the equipment.”

Mlinzi shouted again. His call was answered by another villager who moved through the gathered crowd of warriors to hand Mlinzi a rams horn. Mlinzi placed it to his lips and blew a series of loud resonating tones.

Vance looked on perplexed, yet unimpressed.

The villagers continued to shout as they saw the first of the heavy machinery pushing down some of the nearby trees surrounding their village.

The ground shook, and Vance smiled. He attributed the shaking of the ground to the bulldozer, and assumed would frighten them. Instead, the villagers stayed, smiling back at Vance as if they knew something he did not. The shaking increased, and it finally dawned on Vance it wasn’t being caused by the bulldozers.

Mlinzi spoke, “Mlima.”

Vance recognized this word from when Mlinzi threatened to summon the mountain.

He turned as he heard a loud creaking noise from behind him. His first indication of trouble was seeing one of his bulldozers flipping over onto its side. His men were screaming as the drivers of the machinery jumped out, fleeing.

In front of Vance was a man, a huge man. Towering over him at about eight feet tall, this large native man pounded at the bulldozer, causing massive dents. The men fired their weapons at the large behemoth. Bullets bounced off his thick skin and ricocheted about. With his large hands he swatted at the workers, knocking them over and out of his way.

He approached Vance, bent down toward him and spoke, “enda mbio.”

Vance stared at the giant, and then slowly looked over toward his translator. The large man looked in the same direction.

After a large audible gulp, the translator replied, “Run.”

****

Lucy sat up. The coolness of the ground soaked through her pants. She shook off the blow from the creatures attack. “What the hell was that thing?” Quickly climbing to her feet, she looked toward Violet. The petite young woman was impressive. Lucy watched on as Violet bounced off a tree trunk, using the additional height to throw a single sai at one of the creatures. Meanwhile Shepherd continued to shoot at the creatures, clipping wings, and severing limbs.

Lucy extended her staff, took a deep breath, and headed toward the shack. A shriek from above caught her attention, causing her to stop. She looked up as one of the hideous creatures dove down at her. She firmly planted her feet, and readied her staff. As the creature approached, she swatted it with all her force sending the creature soaring, out of control, directly into Violets path.

“Vie!” shouted Lucy, “heads up!”

Violet looked in Lucy direction. She crouched down, allowing the flailing creature to whiz over her head into a nearby tree. Violet closed her eyes as she was bombarded with concrete fragments and dust. She rose to her feet and smiled at Lucy, “She called me Vie.”

Lucy continued toward the shack. Directly in her path, another creature began to swoop down toward her with its talons open wide. Lucy ran forward. As the creature dove for her, she ducked, swiftly reaching up to grab the creature’s tail. Her thoughts of bringing it down were quickly dashed.

The momentum of the creature’s flight took Lucy by surprise as she jerked in the opposite direction. “Oh shit!” she cried out, being dragged on her back, then on her belly behind the creature. Unable to regain the upper hand, Lucy released its tail. She turned over, trying to catch her breath. Looking up she saw the creature circling back, and preparing to dive at her. She covered her face, and shut her eyes.

“Bam!“

A single gunshot rang out, and Lucy was showered in concrete bits and pieces. She uncovered her face, and sat up. Her eyes fluttered in the mist of dust barely allowing her to see the figure in the distance. It was Shepherd, his gun smoking. He nodded gently, and went back to combat his assailants.

Lucy looked around her at all the debris, “They are made of stone.” She looked back toward Shepherd trying to comprehend the concept of something made of concrete being able to fly.

Again, she heard a cry for help from shack. Her head snapped back into the direction of the shack. She looked back toward Shepherd. He had just blown the head off of one of the creatures. She then turned toward Violet, and observed her grabbing the tail of one of them, and slamming it into a tree.

“They can handle themselves.”

She ran toward the shack. Another creature began a head-to-head attack toward her. She continued running forward, holding her staff in front of her. She jabbed the end of her staff into the creature’s concrete mouth. Using its own momentum, she flipped it over her head and smashed it to the ground.

Again she turned her attention to the shack. As she reached the door of the shack, she tried the door handle. “Locked.” She stepped back and kicked the door in. The shack was old, and most of the wood rotted. The air reeked of mold and mildew. Its roof was filled with wide gaps where moss began to grow through. Inside she saw an extremely large man, with his head and arms in large concrete apparatus. It resembled stocks that were used to publicly punish and humiliate people centuries ago.

Her attention was quickly drawn away, as she heard the grumbling of one of the creatures. This close, she could make out its grotesque stone features. Stone flexed like skin. The how and why’s of the matter were things she would worry about later. The creatures grumbling sound escalated to a heart wrenching shrieked as it began to approach her. There was little time to react. Lucy dove for the floor, and screamed as the creature’s talons raked her along her back.

She dragged herself under a nearby table, trying to regain her composure. The creature leapt on the table. Lucy rolled out of the way as the creature broke through the table surface.  The thick wooden frame of the table was still intact, limiting the creature’s movement. It thrashed around trying to break free.

Lucy headed over to the imprisoned man, looking for something to kill the creature with. Examining the concrete apparatus, she located a large latch pin securing the upper portion of the stocks. Lucy looked around for something the remove the pin. On the floor she found a large mallet. As she bent over to retrieve it, she heard the undistinguishable sound of wood cracking. She spun around, as the creature, now freed from its entanglement, charged toward her.

She looked down at the mallet,  then back toward the creature. With all her force and vigor, she hurled the mallet. Upon impact, the creature shattered, spraying fragments throughout the room.

“Dust in the wind.” Muttered Lucy.

She retrieved the mallet, and began whacking at the restraining pin. The pin inched its way out. Tossing the mallet aside, she grabbed the upper concrete beam and tried to open the stocks. She strained at its extreme weight. As she lifted, the huge man began to slip out of the stocks, falling to the floor. Once free, she dropped the concrete partition, and moved to floor to help him. She tried to lift the man, but he was too heavy. “Dude, you need to lose some weight.” She looked around to for something to assist her, but there was nothing to be found. “I’ll be right back. I am going for help.” The man didn’t budge, nor make a sound.

Lucy was hesitant to leave him, but she knew Shepherd could help. She headed to the door. As she stepped out side, she saw Shepherd and Violet standing in her path. Something was wrong.

Shepherd walked toward her slowly, and began clapping slowly. “Well done.”, He said.

“What?” Lucy was confused. “Shepherd, there is a man in here. He needs help.” She turned around, and found the man she was trying to save, standing in the doorway of the shack. Standing over eight feet tall, he had to bend down in the doorway just to be seen.

She turned back around to face Shepherd, “A ruse?”

“I’m getting too old for this choo,” the Goliath rumbled softly. No one needed to speak Swahili to know what he meant.

Lucy fell to her knees; her breathing was heavy, “What the hell?” She sagged to the ground in a sitting position.

Shepherd approached her slowly and spread his arms wide.

“It was a test.”

Lucy eyes narrowed. She extended her staff, and held the end of it to Shepherd’s throat. Her breathing was erratic. “A test?”

He tilted his head to one side and shouted backward, “Dozer! You okay?”

The behemoth exited the wooden shack. As he approached Lucy and Shepherd, he touched the end of Lucy’s staff with two fingers, and slowly forced it downward, replying, “Yeah, except for her comment about my weight.” His voice was deep, and commanding.

Shepherd extended his hand to help Lucy up, but she remained sitting on the ground.

“I’ll fill you in. Come on.”

He continued to extend his hand.

Lucy looked over at Violet, who just simply smiled back at her with girlish charm.

She looked up at Shepherd with fierce brown eyes. She retracted her staff and grabbed his hand to pull herself up.

As the two walked through the woods, she regained her composure.

“What the hell is going on? Why are you testing me? And what the f—-”

“We want you to join us,” he said sincerely.

Lucy looked over at him, she was full of anger, “Yeah, I know, you already asked. You didn’t have to assault me with flying monkeys.”

He stopped walking and turned toward Lucy. “You needed to know the type of danger you could be facing.”

Lucy snarled at him, “Like flying concrete monkeys?”

“They’re gargoyles. We call then ‘Stoners’. We use them for training.”

“Where do they come from?”

Shepherd put his hand on her shoulder. “There are a lot of things that you need to understand. These things take time to understand.”

Again she said, “Like flying concrete monkeys?”

Shepherd smiled and repeated, “Like flying concrete monkeys.”

Lucy turned to look at Dozer, giving Shepherd a view of the scrapes on her back. He gently touched her wound, “Violet can patch you up.”

Lucy spun around and flung Shepherd arm off of her, and demanded, “Does this mean I don’t get my freedom?”

Apprehensively, Shepherd replied, “If you want to leave, you’re free to go.”

Lucy started walking away. Shepherd watched her, eyes narrow in concern

Lucy stopped. She closed her eyes tight.

Keep walking. Just keep walking.

Shepherd stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. He knew she needed to hear more.

Shepherd spoke with sincerity, “I know your past Lucy. I know you love this planet. I am offering you a chance to make a difference. A difference unlike the ones you’ve tried to make.”

Lucy turned toward him, his words peaked her interest.

“You won’t be merely protecting the planet from oil companies, and fur traders. There is a delicate balance to nature, and forces are at work to tip that balance in the wrong direction.” He peered deeply into her eyes. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you are part of that balance. Everything you did in the past. None of it made a real difference. I am offering you the chance to really make a difference.”

Lucy looked up at Shepherd who whispered, “I believe I know your true potential.” Lucy just stared into his blue eyes. There was something about what he was saying that drew her in.

Lucy put her hands out in front of her as if to stop Shepherd, “Listen. I just spent four years in a prison doing things that people said would make a difference. You offer me freedom, and expect me dive head first into those same things?”

“No,” he interjected, “This is completely different. Besides, what do you have out there? Your father? I’ve read your file.”

Lucy looked down at the ground, and muttered, “My mother.”

Shepherd could hear the remorse in her tone. There was a deep connection there. One he did not count on.

“I’ll make a deal with you.,” he said. Lucy looked up at him. “Don’t say no. Not just yet. We’ll get you a nice room, and in the morning, I’ll take you to see your mother. After that … if you don’t want to be part of this, we’ll go our separate ways.”

Lucy could not figure out why she did not just cut and run. She’s been lied to, and used. She shook her head from side to side. Looking up at Shepherd, poking him in the chest, “I swear. If you ever pull a stunt like this on me I’ll …”

“I won’t. I promise.” begged Shepherd.

Lucy began walking away, “I’ll be in the cab.”

Shepherd smiled as she walked away.

She slowly strolled through the forest, kicking pieces of broken concrete.

“What have I gotten myself into?”

The walk to the cab seemed to take forever. She reached the cab and opened the door. As she sat down in the seat, leaving the door open she muttered, “Mom, I hope you have some answers for me, ’cause I’m running on empty.”

Chapter 2

The day dawned with loud pounding on the motel room door.

It was your standard, run-of-the-mill motel room. One king sized bed. A table with two chairs. A dresser. And a bathroom.

Lucy did not care. It was a place to sleep without hearing guards or metal doors.

Again, the pounding echoed through the room.

Lucy managed to shout, “Leave me alone! Go away!”

The pounding continued like a mallet to the head.

Lucy tried to muffle the sound with a pillow, but that only works in movies.

She aggressively kicked off the covers, and went to the door. After peeping through the security lens, Lucy unlocked the door, removed the door chain, and yanked the door open. “What?” she shouted.

Violet walked immediately into the room with a tray of coffee resting on a pile of clothes.

Without looking at Lucy, Violet went to the table and set her burdens down.

“I didn’t know what kind of coffee you liked, so I got a regular, and a vanilla hazelnut.”

She spun around, “I also got regular creamer and the powdered kind … blech.” She made a gagging sound and a stuck out her tongue.

“Why? Why?” Lucy had a problem getting the words out. She shook her head and frowned in consternation.

“Why are you here? What are you doing? I just want to sleep.”

Violet smiled.

Lucy slammed the door shut, and walked to the bed. “Do you see this?” she asked facetiously, pointing to the bed. “This piece of crap mattress is the softest thing I have slept on in four frickin’ years.” She approached Violet and put her hands on her shoulders, “For the love of God, please … please let me sleep?”

“Can’t do it. Shepherd wants to get moving  ASAP,” was Violet’s chipper reply.

Lucy’s hands dropped to her side like dead weights. She turned away from Violet, and took one step. “Who the hell is Shepherd to think he can run my life?”

“Now hop in the shower. I have some clean clothes for you.” Violet spoke almost motherly, but it fell on angered ears.

Bitter with fatigue and too many stresses to process, Lucy spun around and swung at Violet. Violet blocked the punch with her forearm, and with her other hand, grabbed Lucy’s face and pushed her back. Lucy, not expecting resistance, fell backward on the bed.

Lucy bounced twice and looked up at Violet, shocked, but impressed.

Violet picked up the clothes she had brought and threw them at Lucy.

“Now get dressed, and get outside.” She smiled like a school girl to add, “Please.”

Then she bounced from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Lucy chuckled in spite of herself.

“Son of a bitch.”

She picked up the clothing and headed for the shower. “I think I’m gonna like her.”

*

The sun was bright. Lucy lifted her hand to block the glare, allowing her to see the yellow cab she had become familiar with. Violet and Shepherd were standing by the cab, interrupting their conversation when they notice Lucy’s approach.

“Did you sleep well?” Shepherd asked.

Lucy walked up to Shepherd and glanced over at Violet. “Yeah … until Violet the Terrible came a-knockin’.”

She gave Violet a mock sneer and said, “You’re alright, kid.”

Violet smiled, and asked, “Where to?”

Simultaneously Lucy and Shepherd replied, “Cloverton.”

Lucy looked at Shepherd, who handed her a pair of sunglasses, then walked around to the opposite side of the cab. She put on the glasses and opened her door. Looking up at the bright blue sky, she smiled, and whispered, “It’s gonna be a good day.”

*

The light of the sun penetrating the openings between the trees created a beautiful spectacle of sunbeams. The cab came to a halt, and Shepherd looked over at Lucy and smiled. Lucy exited the cab as Violet rolled down the passenger front window.

“I thought you might want these,” she said softly, holding up a small bouquet of flowers. They were lilies … Lucy’s mom’s favorite.

Lucy took the flowers from Violet and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

The bouquet was beautiful. It was tied together with a violet colored ribbon. No doubt a personal touch.

As the wind blew gently, Lucy made her way across the soft, well manicured, grass. It had been years since she had been there. She had spoken to her mom a few times during her stint in prison. Yesterday all she could think about was seeing her mother, yet today, she could not think of what she would say.

Lucy continued across the lawn, as the winds increased, blowing fallen leaves into small swirling whirlwinds in front of her.

Lucy and her mom have had had their differences of opinion before, but today she wanted to put all that behind her. Her future was at stake, and her mom was the only family she can turn to.

The thought of hurting her mother again made her cry. A light mist of rain began to fall as Lucy approached her mother’s grave.

She knelt down and placed the flowers in front of the gravestone. She wiped away the dirt and dust of the headstone.

Here lies
Dorothy Lucy
Thorogood.

Wife, Mother, Naturalist.

“Into our lives, a little rain must fall.”

1945 – 2002

Lucy wiped the tears from her eyes. The canopy of trees protected her from the majority of the rain.

She forced a smile, “Hi Mom.” Her voice crackled as she tried not to cry.

“I know it’s been a while, but, I really do have a good excuse.”

She smiled as tears continued to run down her face.

“I know I’ve done things in the past you’re not proud of. But, I … these people seem to think I can help them. I get the feeling they mean well, and I promise I won’t do anything that you would be ashamed of. I just feel….”

She began to cry again, as the rain fell harder.

“I think this may be my chance to start over.”

Lucy heard a cracking noise, and looked toward the bank of trees. She didn’t see anyone about. She looked back at her mother’s headstone and touched her name.

*

Violet leaned against the side of the cab, holding an umbrella. Toward the back, protected from the rain with his own umbrella, was Shepherd. He held his hand out and watched the rain bounce from his palm. Looking over at Violet he gave a half-smile.

Violet giggled, then turned back and gazed into the trees. There was a murder of crows in a series of trees down the road a bit. As Violet watched them, they suddenly took flight. She focused her gaze at the birds, then swiftly turned toward Shepherd.

With urgency in her voice she announced, “We’ve got company.”

*

Lucy stared down at the flowers on her mother’s gravesite, thinking back to the times they had together. Again, she heard a crack from the nearby trees. This time she saw two large dark looming figures. As the two men approached her, the winds picked up and began to blow the fallen leaves.

The two men were wearing suits, and Lucy knew they weren’t here to pay their respects. The larger of the two men spoke first, “Lucy Thorogood. We need you to come with us immediately.”

*

Violet stood alert. She looked down the road and saw a car heading their way with its high beams on. “Heads up!” she shouted. The car stopped just short of them and the driver opened the door, crouched down behind it and pulled his weapon. “Drake Shepherd. Maggie Smyth. I hereby order you to stand down. Turn around and place your hands on the vehicle.

Violet looked toward Shepherd, his face crumbled “Yeah right”.

“Vie, we have to protect Lucy,” he shouted to her.

Violet and Shepherd ran to the far side of the cab, as the driver opened fire on them. Shepherd drew his weapon and fired back, shooting out the cars headlights, and tires.

*

Lucy, just feet away from the two men, heard the gunshots and knew something was awry. She ran toward the gunshot. Lightning flashed across the sky. She ran to the pathway back to the cab, but was blocked by the second stranger.

“You’ll make this a lot easier if you just come with us,” the man said. His eyes momentarily glowed bright red.

Lucy stood still, her heart racing. “Oh crap, more voodoo.”

As the second man got closer, she attacked him with a running kick to the chest. Not waiting to wait for him to recover, she turned and ran straight toward the other stranger.

*

Violet looked upward as Shepherd returned fire at the man shooting at them. She spotted another grouping of crows in a nearby tree. This time she leered at the crows, her green eyes turning a deep purple. The crows squawked and took flight directly toward her. Prior to reaching her position; six of the crows swooped down and began pecking at the shooter.

Shepherd used the opportunity to run toward the man, plunging between the squawking crows, he managed to disarmed him.

Violet knew there were more men about, and she had to help Lucy. She crawled into the driver side of the cab and found Lucy’s retractable staff. As she exited the cab, her purple eyes looked upward, and she tossed the staff into the air.

*

The rain fell hard, and lightning filled the darkened sky. Lucy fought her attacker, landing several good punches and kicks, leaving a stream of blood running down his face. His face changed to that of a gnarled grimace as he growled at her, then reverted back to normal. This left Lucy distracted, and gave him the opportunity to punch her, then kick her to the ground. From her lower position, she could see the man’s partner heading her way. She wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, and then looked up as she heard the squawk of a crow.

Lucy scrambled to her feet and managed to catch her staff, which conveniently fell from the gray, storm filled, sky.

Both men kept their distance from Lucy as she extended the staff.

Tightening her grip, she snarled, “Y’all in a pickle now.”

Lucy leapt forward toward one of her opponents and swung the staff nailing him in the side of the face. She turned and pole-vaulted at the second attacker with a double-kick to the chest, dropping him swiftly to the ground.

Before the men could recover, Lucy ran back toward her mother’s grave site.

As she jogged to a stop at her mother’s headstone, she heard the attackers approaching. The rain fell heavily, and her long black hair hung down her face, giving her the appearance of a beast.

Her heart raced as she felt the powerful surge of adrenaline course through her veins. She felt more alive than she had in a long time. The fight raged on as lightning sparked across the sky above. As one of her assailants charged her, she used his momentum to her advantage. She lunged forward, crouched to the side, and then spun to thwack him on the back of the head. Dazed, he toppled head-first into her mother’s headstone. With the other end of her staff, she swung upward and hit the other man square in the lower jaw, knocking him onto his back.

Lucy stood taller, in a ready stance, and waited for their next move. The man on his back got up, and approached his partner, helping him to his feet. The two men glanced worriedly at Lucy, and then headed off into the wooded area.

Lucy retracted her staff, and looked at it inquisitively. She looked up into the air, and let the last of the ceasing rain fall upon her face. Turning her head she noticed her mother’s headstone.  It lied shattered into many pieces. “Sorry Mom.” She looked down at portions of the stone that were still legible.

Lucy

good

Natur  is

all

She tilted her head, and read it again. Her brow creased. As the rains began to let up, she tried to clean up her mother’s gravesite by gathering some of the crumbled stone. Finding the flowers she brought, she crouched down to place them firmly in the ground. As she began to rise, she spotted a man’s wallet on the ground. She picked it up, and opened it. Her expression turned to anger, as she snapped the wallet shut.

The rain began to fall again.

*

Shepherd pulled the bloody man up from the ground and growled, “Listen you sack of worthless shit, tell your boss…” but the man was not conscious. Shepherd didn’t bother to complete his demand. He dropped the man as he noticed Lucy trotting up from the cemetery.

“I take it you eluded your visitors as well,” he said.

Lucy did not answer, but continued to march straight toward Shepherd. On arrival, she sucker punched him on the chin.

“What the hell was that for?” he complained, rubbing his jaw.

Lucy threw the wallet at him, “What the hell do glowing eyed government agents want with me?”

Grabbing Shepherd by his shirt with both hands, Lucy demanded, “Tell me!”

“I don’t know!”

Lucy continued to hold him by the shirt.

“I don’t know!” he shouted again as lightning sizzled across the sky.

“Glowing eyes?” he asked, spitting blood to the ground, a result from her punch. He wiped his lip, “Nice punch by the way.”

Lucy leered at him.

“I don’t know what the NSA has to do with this.” he said, raising his forearms, forcing Lucy to release her grip. “But, I promise we’ll figure it out.” he added.

“Yeah. You and your damn promises,” she muttered.

Lucy was breathing heavily. She turned and walked to the cab. As she passed Violet, she held up her staff, “I assume this was your doing.”

Violet just stared back, her eyes bright green.

“Nice trick.” Lucy said as she got into the front-side passenger seat.

Violet was standing in front of the driver’s door. Shepherd approached her, adjusting his shirt. “Take us home, Vie.”

Chapter 3

The halls of the Dirksen Senate Office Building reflected the crisp, clean, and dignified essence the American government wanted to present. Marble floors and handcrafted wooden moldings adorned the corridors. Dignitaries from several states walked elegantly through its hallowed halls, except one.

Hurried footsteps disrupted conversations and turned the heads of officials and coworkers alike.

A husky young red-headed man was running down the hallways, calling politely, “Excuse me … pardon me!” as he clutched a stack of papers to his chest and zigzagged through the inhabitants of the hallway.

He flew through an open doorway into an office, startling the secretary at the front desk.

“Walter! You can’t be running through the halls like that,” she proclaimed.

Walter, the young man, was panting and tried to respond, “He … wanted … these … ASAP.”

Walter headed to the closed office door ahead of him.

“Walter!” she shouted. But her call fell on deaf ears.

Walter entered the office without a knock. Inside, at the far end, sat Senator Charles Thorogood. The Senator looked up from his desk, and smirked.

“Here you are, sir. These are the latest numbers.”

Walter adjusted his suit jacket and added, “You’re the first person to see them.” He was very proud of his ambition.

“You know, Walter, if you keep this up, you may become a Senator.”

Walter smiled.

“Or you could drop dead of a heart attack.”

The smile faded.

Walter tried his best to always impress his boss. Pointing to the document he said, “You’ll see that your constituents are against the drilling bill. It seems like the preserve area will be … preserved.” Walter smiled.

Senator Thorogood did not.

“The constituents don’t always know what is best for them. They tend to be narrow minded. They only consider the little things, birds, turtles, the ecosystem … they never see the bigger picture.”

Before Thorogood had completed his statement, Walter watched the Senator feed the poll results to his shredder.

The Senator removed his glasses and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He began cleaning the lenses. “Walter, you want to go far in our government, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Walter had his own agenda.

The Senator put his glasses back on, “To do that son, you have to learn that sometimes there is a greater good. That greater good may oppose the will of the people. As a member of Congress, it is our duty to make sure that we do what is in the best interest of the greater good.”

Walter’s cherubic face was nevertheless long. It was clear to the Senator that he did not fully understand.

The tall, patrician Senator — with dark hair showing less than ten percent silver in all the handsome places — got slowly to his feet and walked around the massive, ancient desk and put his hand on Walters shoulder.

“In time, my boy, you will understand the burden put upon this great institution. At that time you can decide if you still desire to rise to authority, or remain down in the trenches with the masses.”

The intercom buzzed. The Senator reached for his phone.

“Yes Mary?”

“Senator, the Energy and Resource hearing begins in an hour, and I have Mr. Jones on the line for you.”

“Thank you Mary,” The Senator turned to Walter, “That will be all, Walter.”

Walter smiled, “Ok.” He turned to leave, then turned back. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside.” The Senator nodded, and watched Walter leave the office.

He pressed the blinking line, “Thorogood.”

The Senator listened eagerly, then his face fell and he removed his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“So now what?” he shouted, placing his glasses back on. He listened carefully. “Well then you’re going to have to find another way.” He turned his chair to face his window. It was a grand view of Washington D.C. “Get creative. I have too much riding on this to have it screwed up by a bunch of jarheads. I need one of them, and I don’t care which. There is a time table we need to adhere to. I’m not losing this deal because your ape-men can’t handle one small task.”

Again he listened.

He stood up from his chair. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he held it up in front of him and shouted. “I don’t care! Find a way!” and slammed the phone down.

There was a knock at the door.

“What!” he shouted.

The door opened and his executive assistant, Mary, entered. “Is everything alright, sir?”

Thorogood sat down, and grabbed a piece of paper, and a pen. “Yes. Mary, I need you to call these people, and ask them for a replacement. They should have the original order on file.” She approached the desk and took the note.

Reading the note, she asked, “A headstone, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take care of it.” She turned and exited the office.

Senator Thorogood sat quietly in his office. He swiveled his chair to face the window again, and his gaze lowered to a photo on his credenza. It was a photo of him and his wife. He stared at the photo until his eyes refocused on his own reflection in the framed glass. He reached for the frame, and pulled the photo out, revealing a portion of the photo folded out of view. He unfolded the photo to reveal a full family portrait of him, his wife Dorothy, and his daughter, Lucy.

He whispered to himself, “Witch.”

*

The ride from the cemetery remained silent for over an hour.

Lucy sat quietly on the passenger side of the yellow taxicab. She held her legs close to her body with her feet resting on the seat. She stared out the window at the clear blue sky, reviewing the day’s events in her head.

“My father. It had to be him. Why else would government men come for me? Were they really trying to protect me? Or were they trying to harm me. I can’t believe that these people are the bad guys.”

She looked over at Violet who was merrily humming and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove the cab.

“These people are not the bad guys. I can feel it. They are hiding something though. I wish I knew what.”

Violet looked back toward Lucy and smiled.

“So, ” Lucy asked Violet, “what’s your story?”

“What do you mean?”

“The bird delivery? I know it was you.” Lucy held up her retracted staff and shook it as a reminder.

Violet looked at Shepherd in the rear view mirror. He nodded slightly.

Violet glanced over at Lucy, “I can sort-of communicate with animals.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow.

Violet knew Lucy didn’t believe her, “I don’t know how it works, all I know is that I understand them, and they understand me.” She looked back at the road. “I sort of feel them. It’s called clairsentience.” She looked back toward Lucy, “Understand?”

Lucy shook her head ‘No’.

“I don’t actually hear words, or translate. I just know what they are feeling and can comprehend them.”

“So how do you get them to do things?”

“I ask them. I send them a mental image of what I want them to do.” She looked over at Lucy again, as the highway scenery wisped by. “It doesn’t work all the time. Sometimes they don’t want to cooperate.” She turned back and focused on her driving.

“Well, after concrete flying monkeys, and red-eyed NSA agents, I can believe anything.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Violet asked in a shaky voice.

“Sure.”

“Have you made up your mind?” Violet looked over at Lucy, who returned the gaze.

“Well, I came very close to saying yes.” She looked back toward Shepherd. “Until our little entanglement back there.” She leered at Shepherd.

“I told you, I’m as baffled as you are why they were there. There’s no reason NSA agents should want you, or want arrest us.” Shepherd responded.

Lucy grunted for a reply. She turned away from Shepherd and looked out the windshield. “I still don’t trust you, Shepherd.”

Violet asked, “Do you trust me?”

Lucy looked at Violet, “I’m getting there.”

Violet smiled.

The drive took them up into the mountainous cliffs along the flourishing Pacific coastline. Lucy had no idea where they were, nor did she care. She was out of prison and that was freedom itself. She watched the passing scenery, wondering if people really knew what they took for granted. Walks on the beach, grass beneath your feet, or even the warmth of sunlight peeking through a forest canopy have been alien to her for the past few years. Violet guided them up and into a long curved driveway until they arrived at a stunning, two-level home with a spectacular view of the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean. The garage door opened, and Violet drove inside. Once the door closed behind them, the doors unlocked.

“We’re here.” Shepherd exited the cab, with Violet and Lucy following.

The garage was dimly lit. Shepherd walked to a wall console and pressed controls. The wall in front of them opened and Lucy’s eyes widened at the vast room revealed in front of her.

To the right was a wall of monitors displaying a vast variety of news stations, and video feeds. Other monitors depicted country maps, geometric shapes, and information scrolling so fast, no one could read it. She tried to make out what some of the data was, but it was way over her head. Directly in front of her was a sunken sitting room, it was definitely a high class, and expensive, dwelling.

Lucy was at a loss for words. The events of the past two days had left her amazed and dazed. This high tech wonderland was just the latest piece of the puzzle unfolding before her.

As they entered the chamber, Lucy’s eye was immediately drawn to the movements of a young geeky looking man. The helmet he was wearing prevented him from seeing and hearing them. He reached into the open air as if he was grabbing things and moving them around.

“Gadget!” shouted Shepherd. His call went unacknowledged.

Lucy eyeballing Violet, said sarcastically “Let me guess. He’s a magical elf. No.” she interrupted herself, “He’s a troll.”

“No silly”, replied Violet, “That would be Dozer.”

Lucy’s jaw dropped as her attempt of humor backfired.

Shepherd walked over to the console which Gadget’s helmet was attached, and yanked the plug out of its socket.

Gadget stopped his squirming around. Standing away from Shepherd, and facing the opposite direction, he called out “Hello?” The helmet still obstructed his vision and muffled his hearing.

“Gadget, take the helmet off,” Shepherd demanded.

The man known as Gadget spun around. “Oh.”

He removed the helmet and tossed it onto the sofa. “Sorry. I was organizing the DNA samples, and cross referencing the genome sequences with the … “

Shepherd interrupted his techno-babble, “Gadget, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is….”

“Yeah, I get it. Gadget.” Lucy disinterested gave a half-wave.

“Gadget does all our electronic gizmos and scientific … stuff.”

Lucy started wandering around the room, apparently not interested in what it was the scrawny little man did for them. “This is all a bit hard to swallow.” she whispered. Her attention was drawn away from fiscal concerns, and refocused on the man at the far side of the room.

His muscles and long gray hair caught her attention more than his ornate vest. He walked with dignity and appeared almost noble. As he approached them, she could see his elaborate facial tattoos. Around his neck was a necklace of animal teeth and on his belt was a small leather pouch. He was otherwise dressed in well-used jeans and a white western shirt.

As he neared Lucy, the man bowed his head. “My name is Winston.” He reached into his leather pouch and pulled out a long stem rose.
Lucy was impressed and unclear how he managed to do it. He handed her the rose. “Thanks. I’ll eat it later.” She said mockingly, but with a smile.

Violet giggled.

“Welcome to your new home,” Winston said, opening his arms wide in a welcoming manner.

“Slow down, Tonto, I haven’t said yes.” Her sarcasm, and her insult, caused Winston to slowly lower his hands and narrow his eyes.

She slowly strolled around the chamber, then asked, “Don’t you think this is a bit cliché?”

“What do you mean?” asked Violet.

“You know. Secret government spy group frees a criminal from jail to help their poetic cause for freedom and justice.”

“We’re not government,” replied Shepherd.

“Don’t any of you go to the movies?” she asked.

Slowly, and with great hesitation, Gadget raised his hand.

“I said ‘go to’ the movies, not download them illegally in your mom’s basement.”

Gadget lowered his hand.

Shepherd approached Lucy, “Like I said, we’re not government. We are a group of ecological driven individuals who are trying to….”

“Save the planet?” she interrupted.

“Well, yes to put it mildly.”

“So, why me?”

“We believe you could be a valuable asset.”

“Valuable asset? Me?”

Lucy stepped up to Shepherd, “I burn down fur factories. I attack slaughterhouses. I blow up KFC restaurants in the name of chicken freedom.”

“KFC? You … you did that?” Gadget asked, squeamishly.

“Six times, Gizmo.” she replied confidently.

“Uh, it’s Gadget.”

“Whatever.”

She turned toward Shepherd again. “You know what? It’s been a really long day already, and all this is a bit overwhelming. I could really use a shower, and some time to deal with all this crap.” She turned again toward Violet. “Is that too much to ask?”

Violet stepped up, “I’ll show you to your room.”

Violet escorted Lucy down a side corridor where all the personal quarters were.

When the women were out of listening range, Winston approached Shepherd.

Shepherd looked at Winston, “So?”

He replied, “It is too early to tell.”

“If others are after her, then they are on the same trail we are.” indicated Shepherd.

Winston put his hand on Shepherd’s shoulder. “This one has much anger in her heart. If the anger is not hers to hold, then we are on the right path.” He paused, and added, “We must hope she stays so we may learn the truth.”

“You think she’ll bolt?”

“When a dove is freed from its cage, it usually doesn’t seek another.”

The two men turned and began to walk away.

“So,” inquired Shepherd, “If you’re, Tonto, does that make me the Lone Ranger?”

Violet and Lucy walked down the corridor of rooms. One doorway was much larger than the others; she assumed it was Dozer’s room. “These are our rooms.” She hesitated at one door. “This one is mine.” Lucy stopped and looked at the door, then at Violet. “So if you ever need to talk or….”

Lucy interrupted her. “I doubt we’ll be braiding each others hair any time soon, and I don’t do slumber parties.” Lucy turned away to continue down the hallway.

“You know. You don’t always have to be so damn sarcastic,” snapped Violet.

Violet walked swiftly down the hallway, passing Lucy in the process. She stopped at Lucy’s room and flung the door open. “This is your room. Enjoy.” Her surly demeanor didn’t go unnoticed.

Lucy peered inside, and then turned to Violet. “My life hasn’t been so easy you know.”

Violet was upset. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s had it rough? If you’d take two minutes to get to know some of us, you’d realize that all this hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

Lucy tried to ignore Violet’s outburst and began walking into her room. She was stopped abruptly by Violet’s hand blocking her entrance into the room.

“I gave up hopes for veterinary school. I gave up my friends, and a family. I had a life God dammit! Do you know why I did it? Do you know why I gave up my future?”

“If I say ‘why’, will you move your arm?”

“I did it for the greater good.” Violet dropped her arm, and waved Lucy in. Before the door slammed, Violet shouted, “Dinner is at five!”

***

“Good afternoon, Northridge animal hospital, Violet speaking, how may I help you?” Sitting behind a large cherry wood reception desk, young Violet Smyth was in heaven. As an advocate for animal rights, and lover of all things “nature,” she had the perfect job. Each day Violet got to meet animals great and small that brought joy to their owners lives. She also had the opportunity to learn about animal medicine by working with one of Chicago’s best veterinarians.

This afternoon the lobby was packed with dogs and cats alike. Violet always found it comical that the larger the animal, the further away from the others the owner sat. The owners of a large Mastiff, and the owner of a Rottweiler sat at the furthest end of the waiting area, while owners of the smaller animals sat closer to the door.

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that Mrs. Goldman. I can squeeze you in at two-thirty. Can you bring Muffy in then?” Violet always had a smile on her face when talking to customers. She always knew that when they called, there was something wrong. Being a caring person, she knew she should do her best to make them feel better. “Okay. We’ll see you two then. Bye.” Doctor Stilman approached Violet, “Muffy again?” he asked.

“Yes. She says he hasn’t pooped in 2 days.”

“The cornerstone of my practice … canine constipation. Who’s next?”

“Banjo, the golden retriever. Mr. Wong says he has been depressed and sleepy. But….” her voice trailed off.

“But what?”

“I think he got into the packing tape again, and has a stomach ache.”

“How do you know that? Did Mr. Wong tell you?”

“No.” Replied Violet sadly, I … I just know.” Her eyes trailed down toward her desk.

“Violet, I know you have a strong intuition for this, but you need to leave the diagnostic work to the interns.” Doctor Stilman turned and walked away.

A disheveled man entered the veterinary clinic; he slowly approached the front desk. His presence made some of the pet owners uncomfortable.

“Hi, can I help you?” asked Violet.

“Um, yeah, my dogs in pain. Y’all got pain killers I can get for him?” The man seemed very nervous and continuously looked around. He was trying to peer behind the counter.

“Well, if you bring your dog in we can have one of our staff look over him. If….“

“But do y’all got pain killers for him?” The man was louder and more agitated.

“If the doctor believes it is necessary, yes he can prescribe pain killers.” Violet barely completed her sentence when the man pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.

The man shouted at the customers, “If any of y’all make a move, I will shoot you and your damn dogs.” People clutched their pets closely. The dogs in the room started barking randomly.

“Where the drugs at?” He pointed the gun directly at Violet. “I ain’t playin’ ‘round girl. Where the god damn drugs at?” He grabbed Violet by her scrubs and pulled her over the desk, and on to the floor. “You got five-seconds to tell me where the drugs at.”

Violet was shaking, too frightened to even speak. She knew this would be the end of her. From within the dense center of her being, she felt a strong tug. She looked over at the large dogs at the end of the room. The green irises of her eyes faded and were replaced by a stronger purple color. Staring at the large dogs, she spoke one word, “Help.”

The large Mastiff and Rottwieler leapt forward, yanking their leashes from their owners’ hands. The two dogs charged toward Violets attacker. He turned and tried to raise his arm to protect himself, but the Mastiff had already jumped up and latched on to the thug’s arm. He screamed in pain as the Rott bit sharply into his leg.

Violet scrambled across the floor to get away from him. Rage filled her heart as she watched the dogs attack the man. The rage turned into action. The Mastiff released the man’s arm, and went straight for his throat. The man tried to scream. Customers headed for the door trying to flee the scene. The owners of the dogs tried feverishly to get them to heal, but they would not listen. The Mastiff bit harder. Violet looked away as she heard an audible crack. She closed her eyes, trying to hide from the gruesome scene, sobbing uncontrollably. When she re-opened them, they had reverted to their normal color. The dogs had released their grip, and their owners were now pulling them away.

Doctor Stilman came running in from the back, his lab jacket flailing in the breeze, “What the hell is going on out here?” As he approached the lobby, he looked down and saw the man lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from the neck. He knelt down and checked the man for a pulse. His head bowed slightly as his speculation became a reality. He removed his lab coat and placed it over the man’s upper torso. “What happened here?” he asked again.

Violet stared at the lifeless body on the floor. She looked at Doctor Stilman, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … it just happened. ”

“Violet,” Doctor Stilman stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t do this. This was not your fault.” He tried to pull her closer to comfort her.

Violet pushed him away, “You’re wrong. It was my fault. I did it.” She looked around the room at the others.

“Violet, the dogs attacked him. You had nothing….”

Violet’s face turned to a flustered shade of red, and she ran out of the clinic.

CHAPTER 4

Lucy opened the door to the shower, reached in, and turned the water. She tested the water temperature and adjusted the flow to a comfortable level. She closed the door, and disrobed, wondering in the midst, as to what she would do for clean clothes. The thought quickly vanished as she began feeling the warm steam of the shower fill the room. She opened the door, and stepped in. The warm water felt good against her skin. She turned to allow the flow from the large shower head above to simulate a rain shower.

“Into each life, some rain must fall.” She whispered.

***
As the darkness began to engulf the pink and purple glow of the setting sun, rain gently tapped on the window. An older woman sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed. She was slender, and pushed her blonde hair behind her ears as she continued to read to her daughter. The child’s room was a sea of stuff animals, its walls painted with clouds and rainbows. Tucked into her bed, Lucy listened carefully to her mothers voice.

“Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.” Dorothy Thorogood closed her book, and stroked her daughter’s hair, as only a mother could.

“What does it mean Mommy?” whispered Lucy.

Dorothy adjusted her daughter’s blanket, tucking her in nice and snug, “It means different things to different people. That’s the fun of poetry.”

“What does it mean to you?”

“It means that we have good days, and we have bad days.” She tapped her daughters nose with her finger, “And even though it may be raining, the sun somewhere just waiting to cheer us up.”

Lucy thought on her mothers words. “Why does it rain?”

Her mother smiled, “The rain helps things grow. It’s all part of the great cycle of life.”

“But now,” her mother stood up, “Now, it’s time to go to sleep. Tomorrow is another day.” She bent down and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

“Goodnight Mommy.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.” Mrs. Thorogood turned off the light, and closed the door.

Lucy pushed the covers off of her, and climbed out of bed. She walked over to the window, and watched the rain bead against the glass window pane. She pressed her finger against one of the droplets of rain running down the window, and smiled.

***
Lucy stood in the bathroom facing the large vanity mirror, and vigorously toweling her long black hair. She reflected on the day’s events, and her new options. Her future was a blank slate. She could choose to stay with these people, or choose to leave, and seek a somewhat normal life. “Who am I kidding? Normal life? I’ll end up right back where I was.” She bent over to dry her legs. When she stood up she looked at the condensation covered mirror and surmised that something didn’t look right. She tossed the towel aside, took her hand; she slowly wiped away the condensation, revealing as celestial vision of her mother.

“When I told you, you were special, it wasn’t mother’s pride. It’s time to realize your destiny. It’s time for answers.”

Lucy woke abruptly.

The water beaded down upon her and flowed down her slender body. She turned around, and turned off the shower. Still a bit dazed by her day dream, she opened the shower door and grabbed a towel. As she began to dry her hair, she looked up at the condensation on the mirror. Hesitantly she took the towel and swiped across the mirror, to reveal her own reflection. She paused and looked deeply into her own eyes. She took a long breath, and picked up a hair brush and began brushing her hair.

She thought back upon the days events once again. “What was the deal with those government guys? Yesterday I was a prison inmate. In the past two days I’ve experienced gargoyles, trolls, and girl who can talk to birds. I feel like I am living a Tolken novel. But yet, something tells me I should be here. Something tells me I belong.”

She put the brush down and looked at her reflection, “It’s time for some answers.”

Lucy wandered down the hallway from her room, looking for any sign of someone else. As she entered the main living area she caught a whiff of something cooking. She followed the scent, leading her directly to the kitchen. Working at the counter, cutting vegetables, stood Violet. Lucy approached her, not sure what to say. She managed to utter a, “Hey.”

Violet looked over at her and managed an apathetic, “Hey.”

Lucy tugged on her tank top, “Thanks for the clothes.” She had assumed that Violet left them for her. They weren’t much, but it’s better than nothing.

Violet ignored her.

Lucy could tell that Violet was being distant deliberately. She had tried to be friends and was shot down. “Listen,” Violet looked over at Lucy, “I’m not use to having friends, or people being nice to me, or people caring about me, or …” Lucy hesitated.

“I understand. You don’t like me.” Violet said, looking back to her vegetables.

“No, that’s not true.” Her loss of words was apparent.

Violet put down her knife and faced Lucy. “Don’t sweat it Lucy. You’ve got a lot of anger. We’ll work on that together.”

“We?”

Violet reached for some tomatoes, “Here. Slice these for me.”

Lucy took the tomatoes and Violet’s knife and began slicing, while Violet tended to the bread.

“So, veterinary school?” asked Lucy.

“Yeah, I was working for a vet for a while, and was planning to attend school in the fall.”

“So what happened?”

Violet thought long about her answer.

Lucy kept looking from her slicing and back to Violet as she waited for an answer.

“I … I left my job, and didn’t give school another thought.” Violet grabbed a large bowl of salad, “I’ll go put this on the table.”
It was clear to Lucy that Violet was being elusive, but she also knew she had her own secrets too.

Shepherd entered the kitchen, “Glad to see you’re making yourself at home.”

He strolled up toward Lucy, grabbed a small slice of tomato, and popped it in his mouth.

Lucy turned swiftly toward him holding her cutting knife in front of her, blade facing Shepherd. “We need to talk.”

Shepherd looked down at the knife, then back at Lucy, “About the tomato? Trust me; stabbing me won’t do any good.”

She put the knife down and began walking away, “Follow me.”

Shepherd quickly grabbed another tomato slice and followed her.

***

April 1st, 1865 : Petersberg Virginia
A lone soldier climbed over the bodies of his comrades, his own wounds oozing blood as he traveled. With his left arm hanging down lifeless, he used his right to climb to drag himself. “Pickett’s loss was evident. My head hurts.” The soldier extended his hand to feel the side of his head. More blood. Looking down at is right leg, he could see the bone protruding through his skin. “I’ve had worse. Who am I kidding, I’m better of dead.”

Nearby he heard the cries of another soldier. He dragged himself over rocks and bodies to reach the other soldier. “Are you injured?” he shouted as he slid off the body of a fallen compatriot.

“Yes. My leg is broken.”

The lone soldier dragged himself to his comrade, only to discover, he wasn’t a comrade. The scared soldier watched the man dragging himself over to his position, the color of his uniform made him weary. He grasped for his weapon and tried to raise it, “Stay back. I will shoot.”

“I didn’t drag myself here to fight you.”

“Stay back.” The soldier’s pistol was shaking.

“Hear me. My name is Shep. I too am injured. What’s your name soldier?”

The man continued to shake, “Pegram, Willie Pegram.”

Shep dragged himself closer. It was now apparent that a fallen soldier pinned down Pegram. The dead weight of the soldier, along with a broken leg, made it impossible for him to move.

“I’m going to try to push this body off of you.”

Shep, used his good leg to ground his position. Pulling on the blood soaked uniform of the dead soldier; he could feel the broken bone in his own leg shift. Both men screamed in pain as the body began to roll off. Shep instinctively shut his eyes, and grind his teeth. The pain was intense. “It’s only pain. I will survive.“

“You still with me Willie?”

“Yes. Are you a medic?”

Shep grabbed a nearby body, to pull himself close, and grunted, “No.” Shep rolled over on his back, panting heavily.

“Thank you. Thank you Shep. I thought I would perish here.”

Shep rolled back over, “Let’s get a look at that leg.” He propped himself up, close to Willie. It was the first time he got a good look at him.
“Good news. Unlike me, the bone has not penetrated the skin.”

Willie looked at Shep’s leg, then back into Shep’s eyes.

“I am going to reset the bone.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a medic?”

“I was, in another life.”

Willie chuckled.

Shep removed Willies knife. “You’ll want to bite down on the handle. It’s going to hurt.”

Willie bent his head forward, and grabbed the knife handle with his mouth.

“Ready?” asked Shep.

Willie nodded.

Shep grabbed the lower portion of Willie’s leg, and snapped it back into place. The knife handle muffled Willie’s scream.

Shep grabbed Willie’s arm and pulled him to a sitting position.

Willie looked at Shep, removed the knife from his mouth, “Thank you my friend.”

“You will survive until your men get here. I however, will not.”

“Do not speak of such things. We will wait together.”

“No Willie. I will not. I need you to give me your knife.”

Willie hesitated, “Why?”

“I think you know why.”

“Shep, do not do this. You will survive. We will survive. Someone will come for us. What side you are on won’t matter once I tell them what you’ve done. You have nothing to … ”

Shep sighed, “I would prefer that you give me the knife, instead of me taking it from you by force.”

“I will not give you the instrument to end your life.”

“Moments ago you were prepared to shoot me dead.”

“That was … that was before.”

Shep was agitated, and in pain. He reached for Willie’s knife, but Willie held it tightly.

“Give me the knife.”

“No,” cried Willie.

The two men fought over the knife. Neither man was in condition to fight, but in the end, Shep prevailed.

The knife slipped from the bloody grasp of Willie, the blade penetrating deep into Shep’s chest.

“Thank you.” He muttered, as he fell over dead.

****
As they exited the kitchen Shepherd called to her, “In here.” He pointed to a small office off the main room.

Shepherd entered, turned on the lights, and Lucy followed. He walked around to the back of a desk, and gestured for her to take a seat. As he sat down, he realized, she wasn’t going to sit. She leaned on his desk with an obvious question on her mind.

“Listen Shepherd. You’ve seen my dossier. You know I have never been able to fit in anywhere. If you want me to stick around, you better start coming clean.” She stood up, spreading her arms wide, “What is all this? Who funds it? Who do you work for? And what do I have to do with all this? I feel like I’ve stepped into a fantasy movie.”

Shepherd leaned back in his chair, and once again gestured for her to sit down. This time, she accepted the invite. Shepherd looked for the best place to start. It has been a while since they had a new recruit, and he always dreaded the “first contact” speech.

“First off, we answer to no one. We are an independent organization. Winston and I founded this group about eight years ago.” He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a framed set of military metals. “I was in the military, special forces. You know Black Ops, Delta Force, Wolf Pack Zeta, all those secret names that everyone seems to know about.”

Lucy took the medals and looked at them, “Wow.”

“Those are just the ones from the past century.” He added.

She looked up at him, inquisitively. “The past century?”

“How old do you think I am?” he asked.

“What?”

“How old do you think I am? Don’t be shy. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

She didn’t understand his questioning but decided to play along, “I don’t know. 38, 40ish.”

“Thanks.” He replied. “What would you say if I told you I was over six hundred years old?”

Lucy chuckled, “I’d say stay on your meds, you seem to need them.”

Shepherd laughed, “I was born in 1325, in Italy, the Renaissance era. My first death …”

Lucy interrupted, “First?”

“You want to let me tell the story?”

“Sorry.”

“My first death was in 1351. I watched as my family, and friends died at the hands of the Black Death. I awoke covered in a shroud. I was scared. I thought if I got better, maybe my family would too. I waited for them to awaken. I shook my mother hoping she would wake. She didn’t.”

Lucy was listening intently. Her mind was reeling trying to conceive the concept of living for over six hundred years.

“I won’t bore you with details, but I’ve been stabbed, hung, shot, thrown off a cliff, blown up, drowned, and disemboweled. I’ve served in the military for Italy, Spain, China, England, and the USA.”

“So you can’t be hurt?”

Shepherd shook his head, “I’m not invulnerable. I’m immortal. The difference being I can be injured. If I am wounded, I feel pain, and need to recover.”

“So how are you immortal?”

“I can recover from death.”

Lucy was perplexed.

“If you were to shoot me through the heart right now, I would die. A few hours later, I’ll wake up…completely healed.”

“So you only heal, if you’re dead?”

“Yeah, sucks doesn’t it.”

Lucy nodded.

“Sometimes it’s the only way to heal from severe wounds.”

Lucy gasped. She knew he was speaking of suicide. Is it suicide if you don’t really die?

“Most recently I served in special forces for the US military. I was a soldier, always was, and thought I always would be. One day, I just up and quit.”

“Sounds like a good move.”

“You’d think so, but the government didn’t. They sent people after me.”

“To get you back?”

“To kill me. Lucky for me, they succeeded. At least they thought they did. They had no knowledge of my ability.”

“After my resurrection, I became a bounty hunter. It’s not easy to find a job when your only experience is being a mercenary, and listing Christopher Columbus as a former employer would raise a few eyebrows. I took various jobs that paid the bills, but then I landed the mother of all bounties.”

“Paris Hilton?”

“No, Winston.”

“Winston? The indian guy?”

“Native American if you don’t mind. And yes, him.” Shepherd put his medals back into his desk drawer. “His capture took me two years, and was fully funded. I finally caught up with him in the jungles of Africa.”

“What was an indian … er, Native American doing in Africa?”

“Good question. Only he didn’t know either.”

“Huh?”

“Amnesia. He had no idea who he was, why he was in Africa, or why someone would want him captured. I’m not even sure that Winston is his real name. It may have been a code name or nickname or something.”

“So what did you do? Did you turn him in?”

“When I found him, he was beaten badly. Someone got to him first. He managed to get away, but not without losing his memory. I decided not to call in the finding, pitched camp and saw to his wounds. Before he regained consciousness, he was talking in his sleep. I must have heard at least twelve different languages. He kept saying one phrase, over and over. ‘The mountain that moves.’”

Lucy sat intensely listening to tale being spun before her.

“So after about a week he was getting better. He was sitting up and speaking, but still had no memory of his past, or his identity. What he did retain was knowledge.”

“Knowledge?”

“He knew more about plant roots and vines than anyone I ever encountered in all my years. Once conscious, he was able to tell me what plants to use to speed his recovery. And that bag … “

“The one with the rose in it?”

“Yeah, only its not what it seems. Hell I have no idea what it is. All I know is I’ve seen him pull everything from plants to a six foot quarter staff out of that thing.”

“Have you ever tried to use it?”

“Hell yes. I reached in and you know what I pulled out?”

“What?”

“Lint. That’s it. I looked inside, and there is nothing in it.”

“Huh?”

“Gadget says it’s some sort of quantum singularity attuned to the something, something of Winston’s brain.”

“Wild!”

“It was my guess that it was what the reason I was sent to retrieve him. It’s likely that my employer wanted him and his secrets. Winston is a medicine man, or shaman. He, his father, his fathers father, and so on, were all shaman. Who knows. Maybe they were looking for a cure for cancer, or maybe they wanted to unlock the mysteries of alchemy. All I know is I was hired to locate and retrieve him”

“So what did you do?”

“I made a friend.”

Lucy looked perplexed.

“Winston and I became good friends. When he was well, we started our trek back to the states. Oddly enough, he went willingly.”

“He went with you, without a fight?”

“Yeah, it’s like he knew he was in no real danger.”

“We talked about everything. After a few weeks with him, I felt comfortable enough to tell him my secret. Oddly, it didn’t shock him. He said my life force kept returning to me. He said my lives had purpose.”

“So you and he started all this?”, she asked arms spread wide. “Where do you get funding?”

Shepherd laughed, “Ever compound interest over six hundred years?”

Lucy laughed.

“Let’s just say I have acquired an abundance of wealth over my lifetimes.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened slightly and Winston peered around into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

“No. Come on in.” Shepherd said.

Lucy turned toward Shepherd and leaned across his desk, “So, where is the treasure room?”

Shepherd, again, ignored her; “I was just telling Lucy here about my unique metabolism.”

Winston and Shepherd shared a look of uncertainty. It was clear that Winston did not think she was ready to learn the true nature of him, nor any other member of the team.

Winston sat on the edge of Shepherd’s desk with his arms folded. “Lucy, did your mother ever tell you anything that you may have thought odd, or … “, he paused, ” mythological.”

“Mythological?” inquired Lucy, “You mean like unicorns and bigfoot?”

Winston and Shepherd shared another look, this time of bewilderment.

“My mother did tell me some stories, but she read more poetry than mythology.”

The two men looked disappointed.

“Wait. There was a woman, a blind woman.” Lucy thought deeply, “She was my nanny.”

“Go on” encouraged Winston.

“I was very young. I remember she left after my mother died.”

“Do you remember her name?” asked Shepherd.

Lucy tried to remember, but it was so long ago. “Can … cando … candle” The name was at the tip of her tongue. “Candy …shandy … Chandi, that’s it, Chandi.”

“That’s it?” asked Shepherd, “No last name?”

Lucy gave him a look of disgust, “I was five. You’re lucky I remembered that!”

Winston took a different approach than that of Shepherd. “Is there anything else you can remember? Anything about where we could locate her?”

“No.” replied Lucy, rather quickly adding, “Why? Do you think she was important?”

Winston rubbed his chin, there was something about the name that rang true with him. “You said she told you stories. What kind of stories?”
Lucy threw her hands in the air, “I don’t know.” she said hastily, “The standard kids crap, Grim fairy tales, Mother Goose, fairies, elves, Gaia, The three little pigs.”

Winston and Shepherd interrupted her simultaneously, “Wait!”

Lucy paused.

“You said Gaia.”

“Yeah.” replied Lucy, “Gaia, Mother Earth, the whole cycle of life thing. She went on and on about it, more like she rambled. It was one of her favorite stories. Me? I liked Hansel and Gretal. You know two kids up against a witch, with a house made of candy.” She rubbed her chin, “I wonder why she never had ants?” She whisked the thought away with a subtle shake of her head, “But this woman loved Gaia stories for some reason.”

Winston and Shepherd shared a look again for the third time.

“What?” asked Lucy, “Gaia? It’s a fairy tale.” She paused, “Right?”

Winston grinned, “Not your everyday fairy tale. But it doesn’t help us locate her, or to gain better understanding of her purpose, if she has one.”

Lucy leaned forward on Shepherd’s desk, “What do fairy tales and my old nanny have to do with anything? She looked after me. Come to think of it, she never really cooked, cleaned, or did any chores, we had a maid for that.” Lucy paced while she thought, “I remember she lived in a cabin in the woods. My mother would take me there and make me spend the whole day with her, but … she was nobody.” Lucy thought the whole discussion was pointless. She smiled a little as she tried to remember things from a time long ago. “Pisgah.” she muttered.

“What?” snapped Shepherd.

“Pisgah. I think that has something to do with where she lived? Lucy tried hard to remember. “On those days my mother would take me there, she’d say ‘We’re here’, and I’d say ‘Pisgah. Pisgah. Pisgah.’ because I thought it was a funny word.”

Shepherd put his hand on Lucy’s shoulder, “For someone who said they couldn’t remember anything, you did pretty well.”

Lucy smiled, but was bewildered. Five minutes ago she wouldn’t have remember this, but for some reason all the pieces fell into place. “I haven’t thought about her, or ‘Pisgah’ for years.”

“I’ll have Gadget do some research, but I’m betting we’re looking at Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina.”, said Shepherd, “Let’s go have some dinner.” he added.

As he and the others began to leave the room he noticed something was up with Winston. “What is it old friend?”

“That name, Chandi, it means something. I think I know it, or her.”, replied Winston, “It’s all very fuzzy, but there is something …”

“A memory? You haven’t had a recall in many years my friend.”

“True. But there is something about that name that is stirring something within.” Winston’s mannerism concerned Shepherd.

“Well, we will find the truth.” He said to comfort the native man.

Winston smiled.

Shepherd put his arm on Winston’s shoulder, “Then again, I’d hate to find out she was the one who beat the crap out of you and left you for dead.”

***

The grounds of the United States Botanic Garden radiated the natural beauty that all of nature had to offer. The glass structure of the conservatory building reflected the light of the early evening sun. Visitors to the gardens walked briskly toward the exit against the flow of Senator Thorogood who was in route to Bartholdi Park. Although not necessary to get to Bartholdi Park, he strolled through the gardens anyway, occasionally brushing the flora gently with his hands. His lingering did not go unnoticed, but his senate pin did.

“Sir, the gardens are closing now. You may want to visit the Bartholdi Fountain across the street. It is open until dusk.”

As the Senator turned, the slightly plump female exhibit employee noticed his lapel pin. “Oh, I’m sorry Senator.”, she said, “Are you planning to stay long? I can make arrangements …”

“No. I’m heading to the fountain now.” He turned, leaving the employee stranded mid-sentence.

The Senator made his way across Independence Avenue to Bartholdi Park. Visitors still wanting more from the now closed main exhibit, flooded the park. The number of people did not bother the Senator; more people would only make his business less obvious.

Walking around the fountain, he noticed a man sitting on the edge, wearing a blue suit. He approached the man and quietly said, “Enjoying the gardens?”

The man continued staring into the distance, “A billion people could live off the Earth; but six billion, living as we do, is far too many.” His raspy voice rattled with the sound of years of cigarette smoking.

Senator Thorogood sat down. The two men sat silently, merely people watching when the Senator finally spoke.

“So what did he say?”

“In so many words … he said ‘No’” replied the raspy voiced man.

“What does that mean?”

“He killed four of my men. Burned them alive.”

“Fire?” the Senator paused, “I would not have thought he’d … I mean, given her past … ” Again he paused, “Sorry for the loss.”

The man lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply. “Loss?” He shook his head, “Ever see a man burned alive?” He exhaled, “Poor bastards. No matter what they did, they couldn’t extinguish the flames.” He inhaled again, the tip of his cigarette glowing brightly, “They just burned.”

Again the two men sat in silence, watching the people stroll by. Children is strollers, couples walking hand in hand. “So what now?” asked the Senator.

“What now?” quipped his associate, “He’s your puppet. Why don’t you make him dance the way he was meant to.” The man got up, and threw his cigarette butt on the ground. As he squashed it beneath his shoe adding, “He’s in Chiba, Japan.” The man waked away.

The Senator say quietly looking at the squashed remains of the cigarette on the ground.

Chapter 5
Pisgah National Forest, Brevard, North Carolina

Pisgah NationalForest spans over five-hundred and ten thousand acres. As the team arrived at the park entrance they realized they were looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. The team, minus Dozer who stayed in the van as to not frighten visitor, stood in front of the large map of the park. Roads, and hiking paths were presented for ordinary visitors, but these were no ordinary visitors.

“She could be anywhere.” mumbled Violet, as she gazed upon the vast forestry.

“She’s obviously not going to be off any of those paths.” stated Shepherd, adding, “I’m sure if the forestry department knew she was living in there they would remove her.”

“If they haven’t already.” added Lucy.

Winston looked at the tree lines around him, as Lucy stepped up to the map. It was clear to Shepherd that something was out of place with Winston.

“What is it old friend? Another ‘feeling’?” he asked.

“I cannot put my finger on it, but there is something familiar about the energy here.”, he whispered.

“I’d chalk it up to dejavue but you probably don’t believe in that?”

Winston approached Lucy, and the two stared at the map.

“So, any idea where we should start?” asked Violet.

Simultaneously, Winston and Lucy pointed to an area of the map and said, “There.”

Both Violet and Shepherd were a little put off by their synchronized answer, especially since one hadn’t been here since she as a child, and the other suffered from amnesia and was relying on deja vue. Shepherd looked at the area, “Shining rock wilderness?”

No one spoke as the group headed back to their large SUV, and entered the vehicle. From the back Dozer spoke, “So? Where to?”
No one answered, the team was still curious about their destination and how the direction was attained.

“Hello?” asked Dozer.

Violet turned around and whispered, “Shining Rock Wilderness.”

“Oh.”, whispered Dozer, “Why are we whispering?”

Violet just shrugged.

As their vehicle made its way down the scenic byway, Lucy couldn’t help but to gaze out the window at the inherit beauty of the forest. “you tend to forget places like this exist when your locked away in a 10 by 10 cell.”

“You’d be amazed how many people go their whole lives without seeing such beauty.”, added Shepherd, “Our job is to make sure it remains for future generations.”

“Job“, thought Lucy, “Waitress, desk clerk, construction worker, those are jobs. This … This is … Something else.”

They crossed the intersection where the bypass met the Blue Ridge parkway. Shepherd pulled into small parking area near a hiking trail leading through the wilderness area. “We hoof it from here.”

The team exited the vehicle, with Dozer cautious not to be seen by hikers. Lucy quickly headed out, leading the way. Shepherd and Winston passed Dozer and Violet on the trail, and approached Lucy. “Which way?” asked Shepherd.

“This way.”, again Winston and Lucy answered together, pointing in the same general direction.

Shepherd started off in the direction they indicated, shaking his head, “You guys need to stop doing that.”

Lucy and Winston looked at each other, not understanding what was going on. Winston was even more perplexed than Lucy, at least she knew she had been there before, he was running purely on instinct.

Two hours later, the team was still wondering through the foliage and fauna of the forest, a long way from the outlined paths provided by the forestry department. “Are we sure we are not on a wild goose chance?” asked Dozer.

Lucy pulled some brush back to reveal a log cabin ahead, “Pretty sure.”

The team exited the forest and approached the decaying cabin. “This is it.” The cabin was small. Moss had formed a canopy over the roof, keeping it hidden from the forestry patrol planes. On the porch was an old rocking chair, a small table and a small bucket. Flies circled the bucket. She looked at the porch and remembered sitting along side the rocking chain listening to stories. Lucy approached the front porch, she looked down at the fly covered bucket only to see scraps of food. Obviously some sort of holding bucket for a compost heap. She approached the chain and brushed her hand along the arm of the old wooden rocker, fortifying her childhood memory.

Winston stepped up onto the porch, and approached the front door. “I guess we knock.” Before his rounded fist could strike to rickety wood door, it opened swiftly.

An old woman opened the door. Her wrinkled face, and long grey hair gave her an air of wisdom rather than that of old age. It was apparent by her gaze that she was, as Lucy recalled, blind. She sniffed the air, and smiled. She stepped forward and slapped Winston in the face,”Three years!”, she shouted.

“I’m sorry?” inquired Winston.

“Three years I’ve been waiting for your return.”

“I’m sorry, do you know me?”

“Know you? Of course I do Wind-Storm, I’m your mother.”

*****

On the edge of the River of Life, as it is called by the local tribe, sat Mlinzi, their chief of many years. His eyes closed, his mind elsewhere in the spirit of meditation. Dinari, the youngest son of the chief, approached slowly as to not disturb the great leader. Dinari was head strong in his desire to become a warrior. Although much too young, his enthusiasm was never ignored by his father. In an effort to become stealth like the panther, Dinari crept slowly, controlling his breathing, and stepping lightly upon the ground beneath him.

“Hello my son.”, the sound of his fathers voice startled him.

“How did you know I was hear?” asked Dinari.

“When you learn to clear your mind, and filter the everyday from you ears, you will hear what remains.”, he turned toward his son, and smiled.
“I heard your heartbeat, its beating like a rabbit.” The elder smiled, as he grasped his staff to help himself on to his feet. He took a deep breathe. “We have a visitor to our village.”

“Yes.”

“The time has come, and I fear we must protect our village.” he looked toward his son, “Summon the warriors.”

“Can I come with you?” Dinari’s voice was filled with eagerness.

“Half education is more dangerous than no education my son. Summon the warriors, and return to our home.”

“What about Mlima? Shall I summon him too?”

“No!” snapped Mlinzi causing his son to jump back.

“Mlima must not be included in this.”

“Why father? Mlima could easily …”

“No!” shouted Mlinzi, “Do not question my decision. Go and do what you have been told.”

Dinari ran through the woods toward the village, not understanding his fathers decision not to summon Mlima. If there was danger to the village Mlima could easily defeat any threat as he has done in the past. Dinari stopped, and looked back from when he came.
“Sorry father, I must do what I know in my heart is right.”

He changed direction, and headed toward the mountain side.

****

Mlinzi entered his village and slowly approached the visitor, who was surrounded by village guards. The visitor was a tall brown-skinned man. He carried a wooden staff. “Mimi ni fahari kwa kukaribishwa katika kijiji chako”

Mlinzi was glad to hear the the visitor was feeling welcomed in his village, despite the guards. He was also impressed that the visitor greeted him in his native tongue.

“What do you want?” asked Mlinzi.

“I have come to retrieve the ‘Ramani ja jiwe’.”

Mlinzi turned to walk away, signaling for his guards to kill the visitor, with a quick hand gesture suggesting, the slicing of the throat.

As the guards approached, the man shouted, “I have been sent by Chanti, protector of the lineage.” He spoke quickly as in hopes that the chief would understand and stop the forthcoming personal slaughter.

Mlinzi stopped and raised his hand, signaling the guards to halt. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Spinning around, he lunged toward the stranger. Swiftly pulling a dagger from its sheath, he brought the knife up to the throat of the man with one swift stroke. The stranger, did not move. He did not move, nor did he flinch. This intrigued Mlinzi. But intrigue was not of any concern now. It was time to decide, and to act. Should death come swiftly, or should this man be allowed to state his case. Mlinzi, thinking of his sons, and the village, fought his own best instincts, and leaned more toward a diplomatic solution.

“What do you know of the woman Chanti, and what do you know of the lineage?” he shouted at the man.

The man swallowed hard, “I am the heir to the role of protector. It is I who is to protect the lineage.”

Mlinzi’s anger grew, the man knew too much to remain alive. He had his orders. But something, something deep within him, told him to set aside emotions … for now. “The stone is a tool of the paladins! We have been charged with protecting it and killing all who come to seek it. A guardian would know this. Why do you risk your life to come here and seek the stone?”

The man hesitated to speak, the glanced around, “Is there somewhere more private we can speak”

Dinari climbed mountainside up toward the cave-like openings. He had visited Mlima many times, and unlike the villagers, he knew how to find Mlima without summoning him with the protectors horn.

“Mlima!”, he called out as he approached the opening of the cave. “Mlima! It’s ….” he was interrupted by the deep voice of Mlima.

“Dinari.”

The large behemoth bent down and Dinari gave him a hug.

“What brings you here today little one?”

“There is a stranger in the village. Father summoned the guards, but …”

“But what? Why did he not summon me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does he know you have come to see me?”

“No.”

Mlima rubbed his chin, “hmmm.”

****

Inside a nearby hut, the stranger sat across from the chief who, graciously, offered him a cup of tea. The stranger bowed his head, and accepted the tea. The chief was weary. It had been told that when a Paladin confronts those charged with protecting the lineage, they act swiftly and ferociously. This man sipping tea before him had the grace and charisma of a nobleman.

“If you are truly a protector, then you understand why I did what I did. But …” he paused, “If you are attempting to deceive me …”

The stranger looked up from his tea.

“You will not leave this village alive.”

The stranger placed his cup on the table in front of him, “My intentions are as pure at the tea in front of me. I assure you. I am a protector. My name is Windstorm.”

“As a protector, you understand the task bestowed upon me. You’d understand that the only reason you are alive right now, is because you did not enter this village with hostility in your heart. Not killing you is a decision I hope I will not regret.” The chief once again grabbed his knife, “You will forgive me for being cautious, but If you are a true protector of the lineage, I need to see the mark.”

Windstorm stood up and turned so his back faced the chief. He pulled his long pony tail to the side to reveal an small tattoo on the back of his neck. It was of a female figure, radiating energy. She was surrounded by symbols of earth, water, fire, and air. He released his hair, and turned back to face the chief.

The chief sheathed his blade, and bowed to Windstorm. “How can I help you?”

Windstorm began the process of explaining his request, and appearance at this time. “As you know, centuries ago the paladins used means both mystical and alchemical, to force the stone to locate the descendants of the Gaia legacy. These paladins would hunt down and kill those descendants. The last descendant, Dorothy Thorogood, placed in your care the stone used by the paladins to locate her. Despite her efforts, she met an untimely death but not before giving birth to an heir. The paladin who hunted her met with an unfortunate fate.”

“These are events I am already aware of. It is your presence in the hear and now that concerns, and agitates me.”

“Of course.” continued Windstorm, “There was a conspiracy of greed, and power which led to a loss of the lineage. The protector was banished from the homestead of the Thorogoods. She was met with harassment, and in some cases torture. The head of the Thorogood family is powerful. He used all means at his disposal to keep the protector from the heir. Despite her greatest attempt at remaining watchful of the heir, she was driven from her home into exile. Once my training was complete I was tasked locating the heir and to keep her safe. Therefor it is with regret that I ask for the ‘Ramani ja jiwe’”

Both Windstorm and Mlinzi sat in silence. The air was thick, and heavy.

The great chief Mlinzi rose to his feet and spoke. “No.” His answer was quick and direct. It cut through the thick air like chief’s own dagger.

“I’m sorry?” Windstorm was a bit shocked at the answers. “I do not believe you understand the urgency in this matter.”

“The stone was placed here by the chosen one. It cannot be removed.”

“I have the means. I have been trained by the eight elder shaman of the … ”

Mlinzi stood up, “Kuacha!” His anger was apparent. He understood that talk would not put the visitors mind to rest. He must show the protector why the stone cannot be removed.

“Come with me”, he indicated for Windstorm to follow. The two men existed the hut and walked a distance to the edge of the peaceful village. Chief Mlinzi stopped, and waited as Windstorm approached his side.

“There.”, said Mlinzi, pointing to an overhang extending outward from the rocks above. At the base of the overhang, infused into the rock face itself, was the stone. The rock formations above made digging or blasting the stone from his encasement impossible without bringing the entire side of the mountain down on the village. It was clear to both men that this was the intention of the one called Dorothy Thorogood.

“You see my friend. Nothing motivates a person like death.” explained Mlinzi. “By placing the ‘Ramani ja jiwe’ here, she has forced us to protect it with our very lives, for if we do not, our entire village will be destroyed.”

Windstorm stepped away from the chief, “It’s only a village.” He pointed up toward the green stone embedded in the rock, “This is much more important than your village. You can rebuild your village! You must allow me to take the stone, it is the only way to locate the lineage once again.”

“I will not sacrifice my people, their ancestral home.” shouted Mlinzi, “This is exactly why the ‘Ramani ja jiwe’ was put here. We will do what we were charged with and protect the map stone from anyone who seeks it” He pulled out his knife, “Including you.”

Windstorm grasped his staff firmly in a defensive stance. “I will do what needs to be done. Evacuate your village now, and no one needs to be harmed.”

“Walinzi! walinzi! Walinzi!” Mlinzi summoned his guards, as he lunged forward toward Windstorm.

Windstorm deflected the attack with ease, using his staff. “I do not wish to fight you.”

“Unless you stand down, you have no choice.” As Mlinzi finished his sentence, 3 guards appeared and headed towards Windstorm.

The staff in Windstorms hands spun quickly and with great precision. He moved forward to battle the three guards. He thwacked the first guard over his back, then spun around, thrusting the staff into the stomach of the second guard. The guard grasped the staff to Windstorm’s delight, providing him with the opportunity to flip the guard over his head, and into the third guard. He quickly spun the staff in his hands and thrust the blunt end at the throat of Ajali.

“I am sorry it has come to this, but within your heart you know I have no choice. I would prefer your permission, but even without it my task shall be complete. I must take …” Windstorm was cut off mid-sentence as he was struck by a monstrous force. He flew through the air, bouncing off the ground and into the broad twisted trunk of a baobob tree. The force of the blow was incredible. His head bleeding, and there was no doubt, he had broken ribs. He struggled to get to his feet.

Windstorm lifted his shirt, and saw bruising beginning to set in. A slight outward protrusion reconfirmed his assumption about his ribs. He reached into his medicine bag and pulled out some leaves. Placing them in his mouth, he began to chew them. He grasped a nearby branch and pulled himself up, only to feel the full force of the powerful man known as Mlima. Even the analgesic properties of the leaves he was chewing could not mask the pain caused by the grasp he was in.

Mlima pulled Windstorm to his face, “I radhi lakini mimi lazima kukuua sasa.” For some reason, apologizing for having to kill him didn’t sit well with Windstorm. He struggled to reach into his side pouch, but was tossed aside like a child’s rag doll. He landed face first into the hard graveled soil. As he struggled to get to his feet, he was grabbed again by his ominous opponent.

“Lazima mavuno.” spoke the massive man, there was a hint of compassion in his voice.

“I … cannot … yield.”, Windstorm lashed out at his antagonist, landing several blows to his adversaries face. It was like a slap in the face. Understanding that Windstorm would not yield per his request, Mlima closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, lifted Windstorm into the air, and landed a heavy clinched fist blow to him, sending him soaring through the air toward a nearby wooded area. He lost sight of the stranger as he fell through the branches of several baobab trees.

His heart was immediately filled with regret. Sighing deeply again, he knew he had to continue his pursuit of the stranger. He bowed his head, again sighed, and began to walk in the direction the stranger landed.

As he made his way through the rocky terrain toward the distant trees, he hoped the man was still alive, so he can plead with him to end this insane chore.

He looked down on the ground and saw the spot where the man had landed. The disturbed pattern of gravel indicated the man was attempting to drag himself to safety. He followed the drag lines to a series of large boulders. Propped up against one of the rocks, bleeding profusely, was his opponent. It was apparent this stranger was no match for Mlima, and Mlima knew it.

The man stood lopsided, as his left arm hung, obviously broken. His right hand clutched something yet unseen. Mlima was not concerned, he was disappointed. Not in the lack of fight from the little man, but in the fact that this was what his life had led to. Ajali had always told him the time would come to protect the village. But Mlima believed the threat would have been directly proportionate to his own unique size and gift. Not this. This was like an elephant trampling a fox. This was an unfair fight, and it ate at Mlima. He knew it was unfair, and could do nothing to stop it, or could he?

Mlima rested upon a boulder across from the injured man. “I do not wish to harm you any more.”

“So don’t”, muttered Windstorm, “You have a choice, you always have a choice.”

Mlima shook his head slowly, “If you were a Paladin, would you, as a protector, wish me to give up this easily? Would you have me show compassion for those who would hunt down the legacy?”

Windstorm chuckled, causing himself more pain. He nodded, “You’re right my friend. I would want you to do exactly what you are doing.” He smiled and added, “But you know I am no Paladin. That is the difference. It is unforgivable that your village would be destroyed, but it is just a village.”

“No. It’s not. It’s more than that.” Mlima stood up, “It is what provides purpose for the entire tribe. We have fought long and hard to keep our small piece of land from ‘nchi wauaji’. They come, they take, they destroy. If you destroy our village you are no better than those people, and ALL of our efforts over the decades will be for nothing.”

Mlima extended his hand to Windstorm, “Come with me and I will speak to Ajali about letting you live.”

Windstorm was confused by this tactic. It was made clear to him that any one seeking the stone would be killed, Why would this mountain of a man want to spare his life?

“Ajali will not give me the stone. I need the stone. I will not yield.”

Again Mlma bowed his head, clinched his fist tightly and said, “Then I regret what I must do next.”

Windstorm looked up at the intentional instrument of his death, “Regret is something you will not have to live with.”

Mlima pulled his mighty arm back, and swung forward at Windstorm. Windstorm raised his closed hand to his face, and at the moment Mlima’s fist made contact with his body, he exhaled and released the dust into the air. But his timing was not correct. Although some of the powdery substance landed on Mlima, the majority of it had been caught by the whoosh of air following Mlima’s fist, landing on and around Windstorm.

The force of the blow knocked Windstorm into the air, soaring many yards into the distance.

Mlima’s was light-headed. He could barely stand. With a great thud, the man called, ‘The Mountain that moves’, fell to the ground, and fell into a deep sleep.

Hours had passed, and Mlima still lie unconscious on the ground.

“Mlima! Mlima!” The words pained Mlima’s head.

He let out a loud moan, and sat upright. “What? What happened?” He looked over and saw the day brightening smile of his little friend Dinari.

“Did you defeat him?” asked Dinari with excitement.

Mlima grasped his head, “Defeat who?” he asked. His eyes squinted in pain.

“The stranger.”

“What stranger?”

Dinari was confused. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Mlima climbed to his feet. His head still ached. “What stranger is Dinari speaking of?” He tried to stay upright, but had to lean back on a large boulder. He shook his head rapidly trying to clear it.

“Don’t you remember? The stranger came to the village to take the stone.” explained Dinari.

“A paladin? Here?” The shock of the news cleared his head faster than any elixir Dinari’s father could provide.

“He attacked father and some guards, then you came in. The two of you fought here in the wooded area.” Dinari cocked his head, “Don’t you remember?”

Mlima did not. But, he did know that if a Paladin was here, in his village, it was his job to find him and kill him. Mlima bent over and place his hands on Dinari’s shoulders, “I will find the Paladin. But, you must promise not to tell your father what has happened here. If he learns that I was bested by a Paladin, and let him go, he will lose respect for me. Being the protector of this village has been my life’s goal, I cannot … I will not fail.”

With those final words, Mlima headed out into the remote areas of Tanzania in search of a man he could not remember.

Dinari watched the dust trail left behind his friend as he left. A tear ran down the side of his face as he muttered, “But what if you do?”

Chapter 6

Winston was shocked, but there was a air of familiarity in her words. Since he heard the name Chanti muttered from Lucy’s lips there had been familiarity. Entering the Pisgah National Forest only added to the confusion, yet clarity, that plagued his mind.

“You’re my mother?” he asked.

The old woman just grinned widely. “I knew you were alive.”, she spoke softly, “Oh yes, I knew.” He subtle intonations were perky.

“How did you know I was still alive?” asked Winston.

“Not you.” snapped the old woman, “Her”, the blind woman pointed toward Lucy.

“Me?” asked Lucy, unsure of what she could possibly mean.

The woman extended her arms, “Come, come, let me see you. Let me see.”

Lucy walked hesitantly up to the old woman. She bent down a bit, and the woman, with her elderly hands, felt Lucy’s face. “It has been a long time little one. But I knew you were alive. I knew.” She chuckled, turned and entered the house. “Come. Come” she called.

“What do you mean? How did you know?” asked Lucy.

The old woman raised her arms in the air, and wiggled her hands. “Because the birds still sing, the eagle soars, and the flowers still bloom.” The woman’s tone shifted suddenly. “No!”

Everyone entering the humble abode jumped a bit.

“What? What’s wrong?” asked Lucy hastily.

“The troll. He is not welcome. Remain outside.” she pointed vigorously at Dozer.

“That’s Dozer. He’s our friend.” Lucy smiled, “He’s no threat.”

“Pah!” exclaimed Chanti, “Trolls are nothing but trouble. All brute, no brains.”

“Hey” proclaimed Dozer, his brow lowered to express is displeasure.

“Easy big guy.” Shepherd placed his hand on Dozers chest, “What outside for now.”

Chanti waved a single wrinkled hand in the air in disgust, “Pah!”

Shepherd closed the door, as the team studied their surroundings. The air was fresh, with a slight hint of pine, and cedar. The cabin was warm and cozy as only a log cabin could be.

“Come in, make yourself at home.”

Lucy looked around the cabin. The walls were bare, but the cabin was completely furnished. The rocking chairs were exactly where she remembered them, along with that old rustic sofa. If you could even call it a sofa. Too many strange nights sleeping on that sofa waiting for her mother to come take her home. She notice a lone picture frame sitting on an end table. She strolled over, gently tilting the frame to view the photo. It was an image of the old woman, along with a young Lucy, and her mother.

“You were five when that photo was taken.” Chanti’s words startled Lucy.

The frame wobbled as it returned to its original position after Lucy released it. She was unsure how exactly the old woman knew she was looking at it.

“You forget little one … I knew your mother, and I know you as well.”

Lucy was confused. She was filled with familiar, yet peculiar feelings. There were moments when tones of the old woman’s voice would trigger partial memories from her past. She remembered playing in the garden out back. Brushing the old, uncomfortable sofa, she recalled those strange nights again. She also remembered the day her father arrived, instead of her mother. The day she learned her mother had died. Anger filled her heart as she recalled calling out to Chanti as her father dragged her across the hardwood floor, kicking and screaming.

Thunder outside the cabin echoed through the valley. Lucy quickly brushed the memories aside as quickly as they were triggered. “You may have known me in the past, but I’ve changed. I’m not the same little girl you tortured with boring stories.”

“Boring you? Pah!” She began to fill a kettle with water. “I was preparing you for your training. But now you know the truth. You know your destiny. You know what must be done. Boring then, perhaps, but now the madness has been unraveled.”

Again, the air outside thundered and resonated throughout the cabin.

“Your training with my son must have taught you to deal with your anger. Why do you not control it now?”

“Training? What training?”

Chanti spun around, dropping the tea kettle on the floor. “What?” She moved with impressive speed toward Winston. “Have you not trained her?” she shouted.

“Trained her for what?” asked Winston, “Something has obviously transpired here that I am not aware of. I do not remember you. I know nothing about training Lucy, and I am not even sure of my own name anymore.”

The rush of air entering the old woman’s mouth as she gasped almost echoed off the log walls of her home. She stumbled backwards and into one of the rocking chairs, “This cannot be. Too much time has passed, she must be trained by now.” she placed her face in her hands, as if to weep.

Winston approached her and knelt by her side, “I am sorry, but … I have no memory of you.” Chanti looked up toward him. “I was found several years back by this gentleman in the foothills of Africa with no memory of who I was.”

“This cannot be.” she said again.

Shepherd approached Chanti as well. “I found … ” he paused, ” your son badly injured. I assisted his recovery and together we have been trying to piece together his past.”

Chanti touched Winstons face.

“Please … Chanti, mother, help me to remember.”

Chanti began to rise from the chair. Shepherd and Winston both gently grasped both of her arms to help her up. Again she gasped loudly, and fell back into the chair. The two men approached her to help her again, “Do not touch me!” she shouted. They stepped back. She stared wildly at Shepherd. Standing up from her chair she scanned the room blindly. “You!” she shouted, pointing at Violet.

“Me?” she answered meekly.

“Yes. Come here.” she gestured with her hands, “Come. come”

Violet walked slowly over to the old woman, who,she thought was rather pleasant until now.

Chanti placed her hands on Violet’s shoulders. She then inhaled deeply as if she was breathing in her essence. “Oh” she said with excitement. “A feral!” She giggled with glee.

She clapped her hands together, “A repeater and a feral.” She began to dance around the room, grabbing whomever was closest to take them for a spin. The others we dumbfounded. This seemingly bipolar woman was now dancing and mumbling around the room. After spinning with Lucy, Shepherd and Violet, she grabbed the hands of her son, and stopped. She grinned and looked deeply at him, as if she could see into his eyes.

“Come. Sit with me, my son.” She said motherly. Winston followed her to the sofa where he sat by her side, holding her aged hand gently. She kindly placed her hands on the side of his face, then stuck the index finger of each hand in his ears. He tried to jump up, but she pulled him back down. Tilting his head forward, she smelled the crown of his head. “Crown chakra is a mess.” she whinged. She began to shake his head. Up, down, sideways, the motion was sporadic, but the action drew chuckles from the others in the room. As she released him, Winston’s eyes widened as he tried to compose himself. Chanti grasped his hand. She ran her fingers up and down the tips of his fingers. Swiftly she brought his forefinger to her mouth, bit down, and ripped off the tip of his fingernail.

“Ow!” he shouted, “What are you doing? Have you gone mad?”

Chanti stood up and headed toward the kitchen, “You have not learned ALL the tricks of the eight shaman.” She paused and turned back toward him, “That is because there are nine of them.” She pivoted again and continued toward the kitchen, singing along the way.

The elderly woman hobbled to her small, yet quaint, kitchen, delicately wrapped her apron around her waist and secured it. She opened her cupboard and called out, “Repeater! Come here.”

Shepherd knew she was referring to him, as did the rest of them considering they were all staring at him. He slowly began making his way to the kitchen.

“Come. Come. Life is too short to dilly dally.”, she turned toward him, “Too short for the rest of us, heh heh heh” she chuckled.

As Shepherd approached her he noticed that she was grinding the remains of Winston’s fingernail in a crucible with some fine powder. Shepherd placed his hands behind his back. He positioned himself to get a better view of her eyes. For a blind woman, she seemed to have a rather keen ability to “see”. He had seen blind people before, but there was something about her that was … different.

“Hand me my walking stick Repeater.”

Shepherd grabbed the stick and placed it just out of her reach. She had no problem locating it. “My name is Shepherd, or if you prefer Drake, or Shep.” he said insistently.

“We are what we are.”she muttered, as she walked to the opposite side of her kitchen, looking over her shoulder she sarcastically uttered, “Shepherd, leader of this … flock.” She turned back to her work, grinding the fingernail into the powder until it was unrecognizable. She seemed careful not to use the fingers she had recently stuck in her son’s ears. “What did my son look like when you found him?” she asked.

“What?” inquired Shepherd.

“Eternal life has made you hard of hearing. I find that dificult to believe.” She turned to face him, “Why not say what you mean?”

Shepherd was stupefied. He thought about her answer, and what his answer would be. She just stared at him, although Shepherd knew she wasn’t really seeing him. “I guess my real question is why is it relevant?”

“hmmmf.” rumbled the old woman, resuming her grinding. “See that wasn’t so hard.” She continued to grind and sing, “Speak your mind, and your heart will always be pure.”

Shepherd moved closer to the woman, as she added a liquid to the crucible, and proceeded to use her two index fingers to stir the concoction.

“More knowledge is need to know if the attack was physical or metaphysical.” She stated clearly and articulately.

“Metaphysical?” thought Shepherd, He didn’t have the heart to blurt out, “Hey lady, when I found your son he had the crap beaten out of him and was a bloody pulp.” So he improvised, “He …” Shepherd paused, “He was beaten pretty badly.” He paused again.

“Go on. Go on.”

“He had several broken ribs, and a broken arm. He was covered in his own blood from head to toe.”

“Certain are you?”

“Hell yes, I was there” He paused again, “It looked like he fell off the side of a mountain and bounced all the way down. I found a tree branch embedded in his side.” Shepherd tried to be as candid as he could be.

The woman poured the liquid she was creating into a small clear beaker, and spat in it. “Then what.” She snapped, unfazed by the graphic description of her son.

Shepherd was being delicate, but apparently the old woman was fishing for information. It’s not like Shepherd had never been through an interrogation before. “He was unconscious for days. When he woke up he had no idea who he was, or what he was doing in Africa.”

The woman smelled the liquid in the beaker. “hmmm” she muttered, turning to look toward the window, where outside, Dozer was swatting mosquitoes off his neck. She turned around toward the group and announced, “Icelandic memory crystals.”

“What?” replied everyone in unison. All except Winston.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

The old woman’s face dropped, “For over eighty-five years I have done this. And you, still wet behind the ears, suffering from memory loss, question me?” She was insulted. “Pah!” she shouted. The elderly woman pointed at her son, “Tell me, Wind-Ston,” she over emphasized his so-called name,”What are they used for?”

Winston, not use to having to prove his own knowledge to others, exhaled deeply, “The Icelandic memory crystals are a microscopic crystalline powder used to induce short term memory loss in the victim. By inhalation, the crystals dissolve in the tissue of the lungs, and are absorbed … ”

He was cut off, “Don’t need a science class!” she shouted, “Again I ask, what is it used for?”

It was clear she didn’t want an analytical answer to her question, and she was not being rhetorical. She wanted to know why someone would use this particular compound. “To create confusion and short term memory loss, allowing one … to … escape … an opponent.” He stated, hesitating toward the end as he made his revelation.

She waited. As if she was expecting him to provide more. Then it dawned on Winston, “I believe the revelation you are looking for is, did I do this to myself, or was I pursuing someone who used it against me?”

“Ah, I see your training emerging well now. she replied, “This … ” she held up the beaker, “This is Icelandic native medicine, not that of our African counterparts.” She pointed at him again and said angrily, “What does that mean!”

Winston, staring at the floor, looked up, “It means that I used it. I conjured it for protection, and … and …”

“It backfired on you. ” said Shepherd.

Winston sat down on the uncomfortable sofa, trying to make sense of the new found information. The room was silent, and the silence seemed to last forever.

Shepherd looked at the old woman. He knew she knew more than she was leading on. She had answers but was not ready or perhaps willing, to share with the rest of them. As he continued to stare at her, she turned to “look” at him. His eyes narrowed. If she was up to something he’d better not let the others know. He was uncertain whether she was just being coy, or was a real threat to the group. Still looking at her, she now had a smug look on her face. One of pride. This irritated Shepherd, but if there was one thing he knew. It was patience.

“We eat now, then sleep. When morning comes we have much work to do … much work.” Proclaimed Chanti, as she placed some bread on the small kitchen table, along with a bowl of some local forest fruits and berries.

“You’re gonna wash your hands before you prep the food, right?” asked Shepherd, humorously but with good intent.

“Pah!” Shouted Chanti, “Worse things you have eaten than the tiny bits on my old and wrinkled hands, Shep-Herd.”, This time she over emphasized his name.

***
After dinner, Chanti provided some blankets for her guests, and instructed them to sleep where they’d like. Lucy, Shepherd, and Winston went into the old woman’s bedroom and after a game of rock, paper, scissor, decided who should get the bed. Lucy won. Neither of the men were surprised.

The old woman was washing dishes, when Violet approached her, “Is there a blanket for Dozer?” She asked, hesitantly, knowing full well that Chanti had a problem with Dozer.

“The troll? He needs no such comfort. Let him lie with the bugs.” snapped Chanti, looking toward Violet.

Violet was annoyed. Dozer was her friend, regardless of what the old woman thought. The old woman dried her hands on her apron, and removed it, hanging it with precision on the small bent nail protruding from the wall. She shook her head in disgruntlement, then shuffled out of the room and entered her bedroom where the other three visitors were still trying to figure out sleeping arrangements. Violet looked outside the window at poor Dozer attempting to get comfortable on the disintegrating porch.

She wandered around the cabin looking up at the strange marks on the lintel beams. Scrapes and holes blanketed the beams. Splinters poked out from many of the gouges in the fractured wood. She wondered if they were part of the original tree used to build the cabin, or if some sort of animal attacked had transpired. Her attention was broken by the all familiar shuffle sound of Chanti emerging from the bedroom with a large quilt and a small pillow. As she passed Violet she handed the items to her. “Pah!” was the only sound she made. Violet smiled as watched the woman’s feet as she tottered back to her kitchen.

Outside Violet found Dozer trying to get comfortable in a corner of the old wooden porch. Some of the boards were warped, making it impossible to have a level surface for any sort of comfort. She was a welcome surprise for him, as were the items she carried. Inside the cabin, Violet could see the old woman looking out toward herself and Dozer. Dozer placed the pillow under his head, and Violet covered him with the quilt. “What? No bedtime story?” Asked Dozer, comically.

“I’d say we’re lucky you got what you got.” She smiled, as she turned to look inside the cabin again. Inside she could see the old woman making tea. It was now Violets turn to find a place to sleep for the night. Although she hated the thought of Dozer being alone, she didn’t like the idea of sleeping outside with no protection other than the hulking mass of her troll friend.

As she entered the cabin, and closed the door behind her, the familiar crackle of the old woman’s voice caught her attention. “Would you care for some tea, feral?” she asked.

Violet spun around, “Why do you keep calling me that? What does that mean?” Irritation filled her voice, “I don’t even know if it’s an insult or not!” she barked.

“Insult?” The old woman laughed, “No child. No insult.” She laughed again. “Come. ” She gestured, “Come, sit with me, have some tea.”

Violet, hesitated, but curiosity got the best of her. The old woman knew things, that was clear. If there was any chance of her gaining additional insight into her own ability, she welcomed it. She walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down.

Chanti poured her some tea, then poured herself some tea, and sat down.

Violet sipped her tea. It was good, but she had more on her mind. “So what does feral mean?” she asked, humbly.

“Feral is not a what, but a who, and you are that who.” said Chanti.

Violet was confused. “I don’t know what that means. You sound like a Chinese fortune cookie.”

Chanti laughed, “Dear, you are special.” She sipped her tea, well it was more like a slurp. “Tell me, what have you done so far?”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“No need to be coy with me child, I know what you are. Tell me, what have you done?”

Violet hesitated, and sipped her tea again. Placing the cup down on the saucer, she replied, “I can … I can sort of talk to animals.” She never looked up from the saucer.

“Good. Very good. What else?”

She looked up, “Well, that’s it. It’s sort of all I do.” She looked down again.

“hmmfff. Your true potential is still locked inside you. You must let it out. You are like the sparrow that doesn’t know it can fly, or the salmon that does not know it can swim.”

Violet shook her head, “I don’t want to sound rude, but I still don’t understand. You haven’t told me what a feral is.”

Chanti put her tea down. She reached across the table, and held Violets hands. “Child, thousands of years ferals have roamed this wonderful planet. Special they are. Oh, there are many different types of ferals, many types. Humans fear the feral ones, and often create stories to invoke terror and loathing.”

“What kind of stories?”

“To this day stories are told. I’ve been to town. I listen. Vampires and werewolves, mermaids and monsters. All glamorized terror. All based on legends of the ferals. To every myth and legend, there are bits of truth.”

“Werewolves? Are you kidding? The wolfman?” Disbelief enveloped her words.

“Oh, do not believe all the tales and stories.” She said wobbling her head back and forth, “Yes, it is true that some feral retain physical traits of their animal brethren, but most look like you and I. Well, for the most part they do.” She chuckled. “But they did not transform into wolves and bats.” She spoke distinctly with disgust in her voice, flicking her hand in the air, “Pah!”

Violet listened on intently.

“Ancient sea men told stories of mermaids. Beings half human and half fish. Piscian ferals. There were the strong mighty ferals, the Ursine ferals.”

“Ursine?”

“Bears dear. They had the strength of the great grizzly. Yes, some of them retained some physical attributes. Last of the Ursine feral lives in Canada. Hiding from humans.” She slammed her fist on the table. “Humans fear what they do not understand. Humans kill what they fear.” Her anger was apparent.

“So what does this have to do with me? I’m not half fish, or half bear. I talk to animals, and I can barely do that well.” Her head hung low.

“There is no doubt you are a feral my dear. We can smell our own.”

Violet’s head snapped upward, “You … You’re a feral?”

“Yes dear. I am Chiropteran feral.” She said with a pride filled smile.

“Chiropteran?” Violet shook her head, “What is that, some kind of bird?”

“Bat dear. Chiropteran feral are one with the bat.”

Violet gasped. Thoughts of vampires filled her head.

“No need to worry dear. Won’t be sucking the blood from anyone tonight.” She waved the notion away, “Those damn humans and their stories. Yes, yes, some Chiroptean ferals had fangs, others, like me, are blind as a bat.”

Violet thought about the old woman’s words. Then realized, “Eco-location. You can see using sound waves.”

“I see quite well my dear. Hearing is even better.” Again she gently held Violets hands, “These are precious gifts given to us. We are sisters. We are close to the mother Gaia. The animal kingdom and we, are one.”

The old woman tapped Violets hands, “Now, you sleep. Much to do in the morning. Much to do.” She got up and walked Violet over to the sofa. “Uncomfortable, yes. But sleep good you will.” Violet lied down on the sofa, and the old woman covered her with a blanket. “Much to do. Much to do.” whispered the old woman.

*****
Violet awoke early the next morning. She could hear some birds outside singing in the morning air. She looked up. Panic set in. She scrambled to get off the sofa, and immediately fell to the floor. Above her, hanging upside down from the lintel beams was Chanti. It was now apparent why she wore her slippers all the time, and shuffled around the cabin. Violet pivoted to get a better view of the clawed feed now clinging to the wooden beam above. The markings on the wood now made sense to her. There was no scuffle in the cabin. Those marks were made by years of grasping the wood with large clawed toes. The woman hung upside down, her arms folded. The sight resembled that of too many vampire movies she had seen. Again she pivoted to get a better look.

Chanit’s eyes opened.

Violet jumped backwards, stumbling into one of the rocking chairs. She scrambled to regain her footing, all the while staring at the “bat-woman” hanging from the beams.

Chanti stretched her arms outward, released her hold on the lintel, flipped backwards and landed on her feet. “Good morning child.” She said in a motherly fashion.

Violet didn’t speak.

“Your silence speaks much. What one doesn’t hear is as important as what one does here.” The old woman slipped her oddly shaped feet into her slippers. “My appearance frightens you?”

“You … You just startled me that’s all.” muttered Violet.

“Judging a book by it’s cover are we?” She asked as she began to make morning tea. She primed the hand pump attached to her sink, and filed the aged kettle. She placed the kettle on the burner, then opened the door to the old cast iron stove. In the corner of the kitchen was a stack of kindling wood. She took three pieces and tossed them in the stove.

Violet watched her with intent. She half expected the woman to magically light the stove using some kind of spell or inane ability. Instead she pulled out a box of wooden matches, lit one, and tossed it in the stove. She grabbed some dried leaves and placed them in the stove as well along side the matches.

She stood up and wiped he hands off on her apron, still hanging on the wall. “Well now.” she muttered, “Let’s see what we can see.” Coming from a blind woman, the humor was not lost on Violet who chuckled briefly. The old woman knelt down, bones creaked. She pulled back the short curtains under her sink to reveal a large wooden wash tub. She grunted as she dragged in out from under the sink. She grasped the tub by it’s two rope handles and lifted it. Again, she grunted as she carried it toward the front door. “Would you mind getting the door.” she asked.

Violet didn’t respond, she merely walked to the door and opened it. The old woman exited the cabin, onto the porch. “Troll!” she shouted.

Dozer, still curled up on the rickety porch, slowly opened his eyes, and focused them on the elderly woman before him.

“Wake troll!” she shouted again.

Dozer sat up. “You know, ” he said groggily, “I have a name.”

Dozer sat on the porch as the old woman stepped up toward him. “I know your name.” She said in a menacingly.

Dozer didn’t know how to take the comment,as either a threat, or a fact that she did know his name … his real name.

“Take this tub to the spring.” She pointing to the wooden washtub, “Fill it with water, and return here with it.” she snapped, turning to reenter the house.

“Why?” asked Dozer.

Chanti spun around swiftly, “You are the brawn, not the brains. You are to do as you are told.”

Dozer stood up, revealing his massive size to the woman for the first time. “I have done nothing to offend you, yet my presence here obviously disturbs you.” he asked. “Again, I ask you why I should do your bidding?”

The elderly woman crept closer to the towering behemoth. She looked up at him and whispered, “Kwa sababu najua ambao kwa kweli ni … Mlima.”

Dozer gasped. How did she know who he was? How did she know his given name? Now was not the time to figure it out. He grabbed the tub with one hand.

“The spring is a fifteen minute walk in that direction, only five for you perhaps” she directed.

Dozer turned and headed in the direction she indicated.

She watched Dozer wander off perplexed as she heard the whistle of the tea kettle.

Dozer mulled over the events that just transpired. How did she know his real name? Does she know his self-inflicted exile? Maybe she knows of his failure to capture the paladin, or perhaps she was involved in his own capture and torture. There were too many questions and not enough answers. The spring was just as close as the old woman indicated. He dipped the tub into the pool of water, then lifted it out and onto his shoulder. He headed back down the path to the cabin. Carrying water reminded him of how simple life as for him in his village in Tanzania. He thought about his friends, like Dinari. He hated having to leave the village, but he had no choice. He had failed the village chief Ajalai. He could not return to his village as a failed protector. He had hoped that this new beginning would be a way to be free from the past. But it is now starting to look like his past may catch up to him. He had often wondered what fate had befallen the people of his village. Had the paladin returned? Were they unprotected? Are they even alive anymore? He stopped in his tracks, looking at the cabin in the distance. What next? Does he tell the others of his past or does he wait till she reveals it to them. Perhaps the best course of action is to be the dumb oaf the old woman expects him to be.

He walked up the steps to the ramshakled porch. He hesitated, then opened the door.

“Come troll! Place the tub here on the table.” she called out.

Dozer walked slowly toward the table, looking around the cabin, and sniffing the air.

“Come. Come.” She called.

He placed the water filled tub on the table and waited for some form of gratitude.

“Leave us troll. Outside.” she pointed to the door.

Dozer turned, to leave. “Thank you.” said Violet, much to the old woman’s chagrin. He closed the door behind him and sat on the porch steps.

“Trolls do not have nor warrant manners.” she said to Violet.

“You don’t know him.” she trumpeted, “Dozer is kind and generous, and if you took a moment to know him …”

“Pah!” interrupted the woman, “Now is not the time to argue the place of a troll. Now we focus on you and your place.” The old woman took Violets hand and guided her to the table with the tub. “Now child. Focus on your ability. Do what ever it is you do.”

Violet, “You mean like try to communicate?” she asked.

“Yes dear.”

Violet closed her eyes and focused. Moments passed, then she opened her eyes. Her pupils had turned purple once again.

The old woman smiled, and with one swift motion grabbed Violets arm, twisted it behind her back, and with her other hand, forced Violets head into the tub of water. Violet thrashed about as the woman maintained pressure on her head, keeping her submerged. Violet fought back, slamming her other fist on the table. Water splashed about the table and floor.

The ruckus drew the others out from the bedroom. They paused as they assessed the situation, then Lucy acted. “Hey! What the hell?” Shepherd reached for his gun.

“Stop!” shouted Chanti as she continued to hold Violet’s head underwater.

“Winston?” Shepherd was looking for a bit of guidance here. Although Winston had no memory of the woman, he knew that if she was working some of her voodoo, Winston would know.

Winston’s eyes narrowed, “I do not believe she is in danger.”

The old woman smiled.

Violet held her breath. Her eyes were wide and purple as she struggled underwater. She could not believe the woman’s strength. She stopped struggling. “This was it.” she thought. “This was how she was going to die.” She could no longer hold her breath. She knew what would happen next. She would inhale water, and drown. Her tears could not be seen underwater, but she knew they were there. There was no chance to say goodbye to anyone. She couldn’t thank Shepherd for finding her, lost and homeless. She couldn’t thank him for taking her in, and caring for her. She couldn’t thank Winston for helping her understand her gift. She thought about Lucy. “I’ll never see what true potential Shepherd and Winston see in her.” she thought. Instinct took hold, and she began to inhale the water. The sensation of water filling her lungs sent her into a panic. She coughed, trying to expel the water, only to replace it with more water. She expected to pass out. But she didn’t. Again, she inhaled water, then slowly expelled it. She blinked.

Lucy, Shepherd and Winston looked on as Violet seemed motionless. She had stopped flailing about, and her body laid motionless. Lucy cautiously approached the table. “Is … is she dead?” she asked, truly not wanting to know the answer.

“No. Quite the opposite.” Said the old woman, “She is now alive. Alive with the knowledge of her potential.”

Underwater, Violet was now smiling. She could not believe it, she was breathing underwater. The how or why of it completely escaped her, but the thrill of it all was exhilarating.

“What do you mean ‘She is now alive’? What the he’ll was she before?” asked Lucy.

“She is learning what she truly is. It is an awakening of the spirit within.” explained Chanti  as she released her hold on Violet. Violet  pulled her head out of the water tub, flipping her hair backwards. Water splattered about.  Her hair was soaked and she coughed up water as she tried to speak.

“Focus!” shouted the old woman. “Deflate your lungs, expel the water, inflate them and fill with air.”

Violet thought about the water in her lungs, she did her best to focus on the water, and slowly spat the water out of her lungs and back into the bucket. She filled her lungs with air, then laughed. “That was amazing!”

“Amazing?” asked Shepherd. “What was amazing? An old woman trying to drown you?”

“I was breathing.” proclaimed Violet.

“”What?” questioned Lucy.

“It was a trial. A risky trial at that.” Stated Winston sternly.

“A trial for what?” Asked Shepherd.

“A test.” Affirmed Winston. Turning toward Chanti he added, “A test she could have easily failed. Did you think about that?”

Chanti waved her hand in the air, “Pah! When my age you are, you can question my judgement.” She pointed at Violet. “A feral she is, and an alpha feral at that.”

“What is a feral? And what does alpha mean?” asked Lucy.

Chanti nodded to Her son, and flicked her hand in the air. Clearly she wanted him to clarify.

He gestured for everyone to sit down. “Put simply, a feral is a cross breed between humans, and animals.” The air was silent. “Ferals are scarce now, as humans hunted them to virtual extinction. Ferals are scarce, but alpha ferals…” He paused. “Alphas have not been seen for centuries.”

“So,” Lucy interrupted. “Her talking to animals makes her some sort of … Animal … Girl?”

“Pah!” Shouted Chanti from the kitchen. She put down the bowl she was mixing and joined the conversation. “Animal girl?” she questioned. She pointed at Lucy, “Your lack of knowledge and training is apparent.” She opened a cupboard and removed a towel, handing it to Violet. “Imagine a person who can summon the abilities of the animal kingdom.”

Violet whispered, “She’s a feral too. She’s a bat-woman.” Violet spoke louder, “There are all sorts of ferals, like bears, fish, wolves, cats, and … bats.” Again she pointed to Chanti, but this time she also pointed at her own eyes and mouthed the words “She can see”.

Shepherd now understood the uneasiness he had regarding the woman’s lack of sight.

“Werewolves, vampires, mermaids, are all real! They are ferals like me!” Violet’s voice was filled with excitement.

“They are ferals, but not like you dear. You are an alpha feral.” explained Chanti.

“How are you certain she is an alpha?” inquired Winston.

“Instinct! Intuition!” shouted Chanti. She placed her hands on Violets shoulders. “Transfigure my dear.” she said.

Violet didn’t have to ask, she knew what that meant. She focused and her pupils turned glazed over with a now familiar purple hue.

“Now. Watch and learn.” She turned toward Violet to face her, and pointed up. “I want you to grasp the wooden beam above you.”

Violet looked up. “There’s no way i can reach that?”

Chanti shook her head in disappointment, “Do not think, do.” she instructed.

Violet looked up again, “You sound like Yoda.” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she crouched down and sprang upward. To the amazement of everyone she not only grasped the beam, flipped over it, and landed on the top of the beam. She grinned from ear to ear. “I did it.” She looked down at her friends and giggled.

Chanti clapped.

Violet began to leapt to the adjacent beam. She balanced and walked across the beam, before jumping down and landing on her feet.

Again, Chanti clapped. “See! Feline feral abilities.”

Lucy walked over to Violet. “I knew you had some skills, but these are some mad skills.”

Winston approached Chanti, “All these years I’ve been with her, and I never suspected she was a feral. I feel I have failed you mother. My failure in Africa began a spiral of consequences that may have jeopardized the entire planet.”

“Do not apologize my son. You are suffering from a powerful memory alteration. You did not fail. You managed to locate and gather these people here. An impressive feat considering your condition.”

Winston was shocked at her humble reply, and feared what he had to tell her next. “I did not assemble this group Mother.” He pointed at Shepherd, “It was he that found me. It was he that located where Dozer was being kept. He found Violet, and it was his tracking abilities that allowed us to find Lucy.”

The old woman looked toward Shepherd, “The repeater?”

Shepherd’s face grimaced.

She stared at Shepherd. “You put this group together?”

Shepherd simply nodded.

Chanti began to mumble as she wandered around the cabin. She shook her head slowly, and continue to mumble. Her incoherent words began to merge into a low murmur.
She spun around rapidly, “Her!” she shouted, “How did you find her?” she asked pointing at Violet.

“Violet?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes. The feral. How did you finder her!”

“It was in Chicago. I was at the vets with my dog Brutus. A man came in and threatened Violet. I usually try not to step in and interfere with the natural order of things. When the vagabond pulled violet over her desk at gun point I was going to step in when … It happened.”

“What?” asked Lucy.

“I used my ability for the first time.” answered Violet.

“Brutus pulled free from my grasp and he, and another dog lunged at her attacker. Brutus crushed his neck, killing him.”

Chanti seemed unfazed by the story. “What about the troll? How did you find the troll?”

“Dozer?”

Chanti shook her head, “Why must you always question my questions with answers you know.”

Shepherd sighed, “Winston and I …”

“Windstorm!” she interrupted.

“What?” snapped Shepherd.

“You insist on calling him Win-ston, instead of his given name, Windstorm.” she barked.

“Listen lady.” barked Shepherd as he approached the woman. “I’ve taken enough of your arrogance and bullshit attitude. Windstorm, Winston, who gives a shit? Your son and I rescued Dozer from a biotech lab where they were doing genetic experiment using his DNA. Those tests were funded by a Washington politician who ended up creating some screwed up, inhuman hybrids. Winston,” he emphasized the name, “and I decided to find a way to persuade the politician to stop the experiments.”

“Me?” whispered Lucy. “My father is the politician.” Her eyes narrowed. “You wanted to use me to get to my father? As some kind of bait?”

Shepherd simply look back toward Lucy.

Lucy waiting for a response. None came. “That’s it!”, she shouted. “I’m done with all this Harry Potter, Tolkein bullshit” She through her hands in the air and headed for the door.

“Enough!” shouted Chanti.

Lucy stopped.

“You cannot leave. You have a destiny to fulfill.”

Lucy stomped toward Chanti. “Heads up batgirl, I don’t believe in destiny.” Her cocky demeanor overpowered the room.

“Just because you don’t believe in something, does not make its existence any less true.”

“Think about it logically. If destiny exists, then we have no free will. It means that everything we do has been planned from day one. If destiny exists then we are just a tiny little program, in the big-ass computer.  I refuse to believe that my life has no meaning.”

“Your life has more meaning than you know. Destiny or not, you do have a responsibility. A responsibility to honor your mother, and her mother before her.”

The words hit Lucy hard, she stepped back for a moment, absorbing the full impact of them.

She stepped up once again, “No more cryptic riddles. No more magic bullshit.” She pointed fiercely at Chanti. “I want answers, or I’m out of here, destiny or not.”

Thunder roared outside, as the darkness became illuminated under a lighting filled sky.

“Magic is just science we do not understand yet.” Winston interjected.

“Stay out of this Tonto!” snapped Lucy.

Winston’s eyes narrowed. He thought their relationship had grown beyond insults. Apparently he was wrong.

Chanti sighed, “Very well little one. Very well.” She sat down. “I would have hoped that you would have learned this by now. But it seems that what I had planned and the desires of the goddess are not one in the same.”

Lucy stood across from her, arms folder in disgust. She could not fathom what this woman could say to make her stay. She was tired. Tired of being caged. Tired of being led around. Tired of being told what to do. She was free. She glanced toward the door. She knew she could bolt out of the cabin, and make a run for the freeway nearby. But then, where? She tried to move her legs to head for the door, but something stopped her. It wasn’t physical. Nothing was restraining her, but yet she could not move. Then she realized what it was.  It was her conscious. She had to hear the old woman out. She had to know what it was her mother was hiding from her all those years. Dropping her off here at this cabin, and leaving for days. Leaving her at home with her father for weeks at a time. What was she hiding?

“Your mother, her mother, and many women before her, were special. All were all part of a long lineage of chosen women. Centuries ago Gaia chose a woman to be her reflection … her”, she paused, and looked at Winston, “What is the word? Liaison. Yes, her liaison to the human race. The sole duty of the liaison was to maintain the balance,to assist Gaia with the human element. Left alone, it was clear to Gaia that mankind would destroy this planet, and her with it. It became necessary for someone who could walk among the infestation and intervene  where Gaia could not.”

“Infestation?” questioned Shepherd.

“Yes. To Gaia, the pestilence known as man had slowly become an infestation.” explained Chanti.

“Wait, why is mankind a pestilence?” he asked, “We have as much right to this planet as any other species. Why are we considered a pestilence?”

“What do you call a organism that feeds of the life of another?” she asked with complacence.

“A parasite.” Mumbled Shepherd.

“Exactly. Mankind rapes the land, strips the forests, sucks the planet dry of its resources never giving thought to the fact that those resources are part of a lifeforce. A planetary lifeforce.”

“Gaia” whispered Violet.

Chanti nodded, “Mankind fears what it does not understand, then it kills what it fears.” Anger filled her voice,”But this is a matter for another time.” She turned her attention from Shepherd to Lucy.

Shepherd was not satisfied, but he kept it to himself.

“Century after century”, Chanti continued, “New heirs to the lineage were born, ALL females.” She emphasized the point. “For only a woman could understand what it truly means to create life, to nourish it, and to watch it blossom.” She hesitated. “That is why when a male child was born in place of a female, the world plunged into darkness. History recalls them as The Dark Ages.”

Shepherd looked at her in disbelief.

“Know your thoughts I do.” She shook her finger at Shepherd. “I am not telling you all men are bad. The male of the human species is more susceptible to the influence of greed. That is all. Denying it will not change the past, nor predict the future.”

Chanti stood up. “Before the dark times, man knew how to live in harmony with nature. Yes, there was the occasional dysfunction, but for the most part, it was nothing Gaia couldn’t control. Mankind knew the importance of the balance.” Her voice softened,”We never took more than we needed.”

Lucy snapped, “I don’t understand why Gaia can’t fight her own battles. Hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, are all within her ability.”

Chanti snapped back, “Yes they are. But mankind builds shelters, redirects rivers, builds levies all to counteract the desires of nature.” Chanti looked toward her son and shook her head in disappointment, “Pah! She knows nothing.”

Lucy stood up, “Fine. I know nothing. So why am I here?”

Chanti looked back at her and smiled, “That’s simple dear. To save the planet.”

~~~~~~~~
Senator Thorogood sat at a small rickety table in a small bar in Chiba, Japan. It wasn’t the typical place you’d find a United States senator enjoying a drink, but then again, this trip had nothing to do with diplomacy. The bar was filled with workers from the local factories, and shipping ports. From time to time, the bartender and some of the patrons would look over toward the senator with curiosity in their eye.

It wasn’t long before a dock worker, slightly inebriated, approached the table. He placed his hands on the table, and leaned in toward the senator. “Ne. Anata wa koko ni shite mo yoroshiidesu ka?”

The Senator knew that this vagabond’s inquiry about him being there, was a threat disguised as concern. “If this establishment is called the Purple Lotus, then this is where I am to be.” replied the Senator in a calm demeanor.

“Nani?” replied the elderly man, clearly fluent in English.

Across from the senator sat two burly men. They gave no thought to their cliche’ appearance. Their dark sunglasses, and black suits were right out of the movies, providing a clear explanation that they were the senators protection. The senator nodded at them. The two men rose revealing the full scope of their size. Staring at the two men, the elderly man  backed away, bowing and muttering for forgiveness, “Totemo zan’nem. Totemo zan’nem”

The two men sat down as the waitress arrived with a plastic serving tray. On the tray was a single serving saki set. The senator barely acknowledged her existence as she set it in front of him. He took the takkuri and poured the saki into the small porcelain glass. Before he could reach for the glass to drink, an arm reached in front of him and grabbed it.

“Thanks Senator.”

The two guards stood up quickly, but the senator instantly signaled them to stand down.

The man grabbed a chair, spun it around and sat down on it backwards at the edge of the table. “Or would you prefer I call you dad?”

~~~~~

“To save the planet.” stammered Lucy. “Why does everyone seem to think I can do that? What do you think I can do to persuade my father?” She turned to Shepherd, “Is that why you pulled me from prison? Is that what I am suppose to do?”

“Wait!” snapped Chanti. She turned to her son, “You did not use the stone to find her?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

“No.” replied Winston, “What stone?” he questioned.

Chanti looked upward, shaking her head from side to side. She mumbled incoherently, in a language no one seemed to recognize.  In English she questioned the sky. “Are you testing me Gaia?” Everyone in the room instinctively looked up.

Chanti poked Winston in the chest, “You were to go to Africa, locate Ajali, retrieve the Gaia stone, and use it to locate Lucy. You were then to train her and bring her here to me. Only then was she to learn about …” She stopped, realizing that if all that was to transpire didn’t then what came next would be shocking to all in the room.

Lucy spoke up, “Learn about what?” This was it. She knew it. This was the secret that everyone had been hiding.

Chanti waived her hand in the air, “Pah!”

“Lean about WHAT!” shouted Lucy. Thunder rumbled outside as the lighting created shadows in the trees.

Chanti exhaled. “Do you see what is happening out there?” She gestured toward the window.

Lucy looked at the window, “What? The storm?”

“No. No. No. Not the storm, it can be explained. I am referring to the planet.”

“What about the planet? You’re starting that cryptic shit again.” She warned Chanti.

“The world is on the brink of disaster once again. Hell in a hand basket you’ll call it, and the planet is now suffering from the greed by the pestilence of man once again.”

“So what? What does that have to do with me? And you haven’t told me what I was suppose to learn?”

“The dark times, they are upon us again. Oh, not so similar to the past, but in their own evolved way, upon us they are.”

Everyone just stared at her.

“Oh my god!” shouted Violet.

All eyes focused on hers hoping she knew something, or could at least make sense of the cryptic drivel spewing from the old woman. They were right.

“A male child. You’re saying a male child was born.” She looked at Chanti, “Aren’t you?”

Eyes bounced back toward Chanti, who was looking directly at Lucy.

Shepherd raised his eyebrow at Lucy, as his gazed lowered toward her abdomen.

She followed his gaze. Her head snapped up, “I’m not pregnant you immortal douche bag!” she shouted.

Lucy turned to Chanti, “Who is it? Who had the male child?” she demanded.

Chanti looked downward, “Your mother did.” she whispered.

Lucy eyes widened, “My mother…” she hesitated and grew angered, “My mother is dead.” The storm continued to grow outside.

“Yes.” replied Chanti, “Your mother had another child … twenty-eight years ago.”

“Wait.” said Lucy, “I’m Twenty-Eight. How could she have had a male child, the year I was born. It’s not possible. It would mean that …” her voice trailed off.

Lucy fell backward onto the sofa, as the reality set it. It was now clear to her exactly what Chanti was speaking of. She thought back to her childhood, and her early teens. “Did I know? Is this like in the movies where I secretly knew deep down?.” Her gaze continued to look downward as she muttered, “I have a brother.” She looked up at Chanti. “I have a twin brother?” she replied hesitantly.

“You were not to have a brother, but it seems that the wishes of the eight Shaman elders was not followed.”

Shepherd whispered to Winston, “I thought there were nine?”

“Shhh” he hushed back at Shepherd.

“What does that mean, ‘I was not to have a brother.’” asked Lucy.

“Isn’t it obvious my dear. Your brother was never to be allowed to live.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Purple Lotus began to fill up rapidly with workers from the factory district, all seeking a way to hide from their troubles in one form of alcohol or another. From time to time, the random worker would sneak a glance at the table in the corner. They knew all the regulars to this establishment, and there was nothing regular about the people sitting at that table.

“So father dearest.” snarled Peter as he poured more saki, “What brings you here to my neck of the woods?” He shot back the saki as if he were a frat boy.

“She’s out.” replied the Senator.

Peter slammed the glass to the table, shattering it. “What!” He stood up rapidly, “We had a deal Senator.” The family pleasantries disappeared. “A deal you agreed to.” The outburst drew the attention of the patrons.

“Sit down Peter.” insisted the Senator.

Peter’s breathing grew heavier, as a warm breeze filled the room. The localized change in temperature did not go unnoticed, by the patrons, nor the Senator.

“Sit down Peter. We don’t need an incident here.”

Peter slowly sat down, and blindly signaled the waitress, never losing eye contact with his father. “Moto Saki, ni biru!” The waitress nodded.

The senator looked at his guards, “Leave us.” The two guards rose and walked through the shabby establishment under the fearful eyes of it’s occupants.

Peter watched them leave, “Monkeys” he thought. He moved to sit across from his father, then leaned over the table and whispered. “We had a deal. She stays locked up, I do my thing, and you get what you want.” He slammed his fist on the table, “There was NO room for negotiation.” his voice boomed, startling the approaching waitress.

She placed the tray of Saki, and two beers on the table and left swiftly.

“There is more going on here than we know. Apparently she is being helped.” said the Senator leaning over to watched the petite waitress scurry away.

Peter drank from his beer, making sure it made noise as the bottle hit the table, “So what do we do about it.”

The Senator leaned over the table, “We do nothing.” He leaned back. “We wait. We see what move she makes. For all we know, she has no knowledge of anything.”

Peter’s face crumpled, “I am NOT going to sit by while she destroys everything I’ve been trying to do. I will find her.” He gulped down his beer, then slammed the bottle down, “… and I will kill her.”

Peter stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked the Senator.

Peter shouted back, as he continued to exit the establishment, “I have work to do. Meet me in four days at the Chiba coastline… you’ll know where.”

To Be Continued ...

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  This blog is actually a page by page web story. A short story written by Dan Bodenstein. If this is your first time here, you can start at the beginning.

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