Spring Lake continued

I am adding to the Spring Lake story.  It is a work in progress.  The scene at the end of the story takes us forward in time to events that we presuppose will happen. This scene demands action and provides one turning point in the story.  I have re-posted the original writing plus the new writing.


 SPRING LAKE


CHAPTER ONE

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Jonah sat slouched in his new ergonomic office chair twirling a paper clip on the tip of his pencil. The sun was streaming through the south facing window of the office he shared with his partner and long time friend James Fortescu. The sun was hot yet Jonah basked in it after the long Minnesota winter. He hated winter. He often asked himself why he was still living in Minnesota.

“Whatsa matter Jonah ole boy? Can’t play with yourself so you’re playing with a pencil?” James, JF to simply everyone, walked into the small office and plopped into his own new ergonomic chair. “Crap, these chairs make my spine feel like it’s in knots. Ergonomic my ass.”

“Shutup J, if I wanted to play with myself, I would wherever, not your business. Speaking of business, where have you been?”

“Went out to Shepherds again.

“The guy who was sliced and diced?”

“Yep, that’s the one. To talk to the wife.”

“That’s three times now. What’s the deal? Interested in a September, December thing?”

“She’s not that old you pup. And if I am, what’s it to ya?”

Jonah chuckled and stopped twirling his pencil and paper clip. “I don’t know, maybe I don’t want to be hearing all the details of a play by play between old and older.” He tensed slightly waiting for the inevitable roar and smack that would come. It did. After the playtime was over, Jonah and J sat back down and the rhythmic activities of daily paper shuffling began.

After an hour, the ties came off, shirt collars were unbuttoned, and shirt sleeves were rolled up. Jonah was a pristine dresser. He carefully folded his tie and placed it over the third chair in the office. J just slung his on the same chair. Jonah often gave J a hard time about his slob like life. J conversely, along with the rest of the squad, would not let up on the fact that Jonah wore ironed shirts and pants. He kept them in matched sets in his closet. The thing about Jonah was that anyone who knew him could tell what mood he was in by looking at his tie. Jonah wore ties the way some people wear smiles or frowns. If he was in a good mood he might wear his cool breeze tie or his musical tie (it sang having a good day when its tie tack was pressed). If Jonah was having a bad day, he would wear his blues tie, or one of his other sad ties, and then there was his I’m tired coffee tie, his holiday ties, and his smiley face tie when something special had happened. Everyone thought it was just a little weird, but no one voiced their feelings especially around J unless they wanted to get their heads knocked off.

They had been shuffling papers and writing reports about two hours, when Commander Polinski, their boss, came in. He was a tall man standing in his socks 7 feet. He was a runner, slim, wiry, and he ate like a horse. He ran the Get in Gear ½ marathon 10K every year, was on the precinct baseball team, played on a soccer team, and a basketball team every winter. This year he was branching out to compete in a marathon in Wisconsin. He always wore a blue button down oxford, with navy or black trousers, and a rotation of three ties. Polinski was good natured and took all the ribbing about his choice of wardrobe with a smile. The gold wedding ring on his left hand flashed in the light as he waved his hand in the air.

“We caught a big one. Just came in. I’m throwing it to you.”

“Yeh? Well that’s life in the big cities. What’s the fish?” Jonah said as he stood up and gripped the back of his new ergonomic chair. He tried to ignore J in the background cussing out the printer as he cleared the paper jam for the zillionth time.

Homicide in the Reardon apartments near Rosemount.”

“Rosemount? What’s the deal?”

“Weird goings on. I don’ know much. Special units called and asked for you two specifically. Know why?”

Jonah looked over at J, who shook his head, and shrugged. “No reason we know of Cap.”

“Well, head over there, here’s the paperwork. Keep me informed.”

J grabbed the paperwork out of Jonah’s hand as he walked past and began to read it. “Says here that a smell was stinking up building A of the Rearden Apartments. When they figured out what apartment it was, management opened her up and found 2 DBs, both male, been dead about a week.

Even avoiding 35W it took an hour to get to the apartments. Neither of them could figure out why they were on their way to this crime. They were just regular detectives, and Rosemount was not in their jurisdiction, or in their county.

Reardon Apartments was a seedy complex built in the early eighties. It stood in start contrast to the rest of the small, upscale community. The scene was still bustling when they arrived. Yellow tape was everywhere, police coming and going. An ambulance was waiting to take the bodies to the morgue. Jonah and J flashed their badges to the police officer standing guard at the entrance door of the building. People were being checked by the officer as they entered and left the building. This told Jonah how far along things were in the processing of the scene. Initially, no one would have been allowed into the building, and an officer would have been stationed on every floor to facilitate flow. The officer standing guard at the front, told them to go on up to the third floor, a Captain O’Donnell was up there waiting for them. Jonah’s knee twinged as they took the stairs to the top floor, a constant reminder of the takedown and subsequent arrest of the Silent Night Killer.

When they entered the apartment, the smell was strong and offensive. The apartment consisted of a tiny kitchen with a tiny stove, sink, and mini fridge. A hide away bed opened into the center of the tiny living room. A sad attempt at decorating with early thrift shop had yielded the effect of a junk yard. The worn out chairs with torn slipcovers, scratched end tables, and a faded bedspread enhanced the effect.

Jonah walked the 2 steps past the tiny kitchen, and to the bed. Two stiff, decomposing bodies were spread out over the bed. Blood had congealed and dried in puddles and spatter was on every wall. It was obvious to Jonahs trained eyes that there had been a struggle. It seemed appropriate that the only real place to end up in this tiny room would be on the bed. The bed held the largest space in the room, more than the floor space. Jonahs attention had been drawn to the bed, but it was when he looked on the wall, that he felt the blood drain out of him. He stared at the wall, shocked. This was why he and J had been called.

The walls of the apartment were painted the normal, run of the mill, apartment beige. Above the bed written in large, bloody letters was a cryptic message that Jonah did not understand, but what Jonah did understand was his name and Js written under the message, Jonah Buteski J Fortescu.

J stood next to Jonah staring at the wall. “Well”, he said cryptically, “Now we know why.”

Behind them a voice spoke, “Hell of a thing isn’t it.”

They turned to face a man who judging by his age, must be nearing retirement. He was short, thin, gray haired with steel gray eyes. He wore jogging sweats and was plastered with dried sweat. Deep lines creased his tan face. Jonah recognized him from various communiqués and seminars.

“Chief Maher, how you doing?” Jonah stepped forward and shook hands with the Chief , J followed suit. “Good, good, Jonah, and J how are you and yours?” J pumped the Chiefs hand, “We’re fine, fine, the last kid is in college, St Kates, but still living at home. Karna is going to college with her. Imagine that, my wife is back in school with my youngest.”

The Chief tactfully extricated his hand from the Js clench and patted J on the back. “The wife is back in school too. It’s a trend these days. Lots of ‘non traditional’ students back in college. The economy and all.” Social niceties over, Maher became brusque. “What do you know about this?”

Jonah and J turned back to the wall. Silence ensued. Jonah answered. “Nothing. As in the words of Schultz, we know nothing.”

Chief Maher spoke. “The killer knows you. He seems to think you are involved. Now why would he think that do you suppose? Could be a she, but the violence of the crime suggests a he. What do you think of the message?”

The three of them stared at the message above Jonah and Js names. It was written in big letters across the blank beige wall. It made no sense.

Washington’s dream, find the letter, eternal springs even better.

J spoke, “New whacko on the block. I have no idea what this means. Drug crazed hallucination probably. Jonah?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

Maher nodded, “Well, you two are on this along with my girl KJ. This isn’t the first murder with this message.”

“What? We haven’t heard anything. Wouldn’t we have heard?” Jonah and J registered surprise in their faces.

“It’s QT. The first killing happened a week ago. Normally as you know, press is in on it asap. Odd details caused the powers that be to decide not to share with the public yet. Now we have this double killing with the same message and your names. Scene’s already been processed. Go over it til you are satisfied, then meet me downtown, my office. I’ll be waiting.” Maher turned and walked out.

Jonah and J looked at each other for a long moment, reading the same question in each others face.

Finally J spoke, “You know what they say.”

“No what do they say J?”

“No body like a dead body. Let’s get cracking.”

They each moved to opposite sides of the bed. Jonah stared a long moment at the bodies. Defensive wounds could be seen on the outspread arms. Jonah pulled out the plastic gloves and put them on. He reached out and grabbed a hand turning it over. The knuckles were skinned on the hands of both bodies. He looked closely at the disarray all around the apartment. Several pieces of broken dishware were on the floor.

“Not enough blood on the bed or wall for them to have died on the bed.” J said as he looked around.

Jonah walked around the tiny room, then into the kitchen. Tolliver, their answer to CSI’s investigators, walked into the apartment. “Hi, Jonah, J. It happened in the bathroom. Looks to have been a fight. They were dragged into the bathroom and stabbed with something sharp, knife probably, in the tub. The stopper was in and the blood collected. They were undressed and the killer cut off their penises and used them to write on the wall. He or she then sewed the penises back on. At some point the bodies were washed and placed on the bed. The bathroom floor was cleaned up with the DBs clothes. Blood is still in the tub. Shower stall is separate from the tub and it’s still wet. There is some blood on the stall wall. That’s all I can tell you right now. They may have been drugged. Either that or there may have been more than one perp. Any questions? No? I’m outta here.” Tolliver waited for Jonah and J to shake their heads, spun on his heel and left.

Jonah and J walked into the bathroom. The tub was a mess. The bottom was covered with blood. Blood was smeared on the tub sides and bathroom tiles. The rim of the tub had large blood dried streaks.

“What a nightmare.” J spoke first. “Well, let’s divvy. You want the witnesses or the research?”

“Witnesses. I’ll take the witnesses since you’re asking.”

They walked out of the bathroom and began the tedious job of taking down every detail for their report. Tolliver’s crew would have already taken pictures. Jonah couldn’t say why, but he felt apprehensive. Why would the killer or killers have included him and J in this?
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What was that sound?  This question kept repeating itself in Jonah's head as he slowly rose from the deep folds of sleep.  That sound was the alarm buzzer.  Jonah reached over and groped for the shut off switch.  As he cocked an eye open, he realized he was very, very, late.  J was going to be pissed.  Jonah shot out of bed and finished his shower, shave, and dress in record time.  As he sped through the kitchen, he noticed his unopened mail piled on the counter.  He hadn't opened it in days.  Well, now wasn't the time.  He poured himself a glass of juice, downed that, grabbed his keys off the same counter, and sped out the door.  Taking the stairs two at a time, he picked up speed until he could barely keep himself upright.  He shot out the door to the ground floor and ran headlong into another tenant, John McMurdock, nearly knocking him to the floor.  "Whoa, what's the rush?"  "Sorry John, I'm late for work.  You OK?"  Jonah asked as he righted himself and moved around McMurdock.  "Good, got to go." Jonah said in response to McMurdock's nod. 

Once Jonah was on the freeway, he began to relax.  He keyed in J's number and apologized for being late.  "That's fine, just get off the damn cell, you know that's dangerous" J said hanging up.  Jonah weaved in and out of traffic enjoying the challenge of getting ahead.  As he came to the I35 exit, he noticed a Lexus trying to budge into his lane in front of him.  No way he thought.  You get behind me or not at all.  He sped up and closed the gap between him and the truck in front.  The driver of the Lexus slowed and pulled back into his lane.  Jonah began the balancing act of keeping the gap closed enough to keep the Lexus from moving in front and yet keeping back enough to not ram the truck when it hit it's brakes.  The Lexus, not to be outdone, continued to try to move into the opening in front of Jonah.  As the two driver's dueled over the space behing the truck, a police car pulled up on the other side of Jonah.  Jonah looked over to see that the police officer was watching the duel between Jonah and the Lexus.  Oh well, Jonah thought, what's he going to do?  It was then that Jonah realized he had passed the exit off the freeway to take him to J's house.  Jonah slowed down leaving a larger gap in front of him.  The Lexus promptly moved into the gap.  Jonah put his right turn signal on and moved into the space the Lexus had just vacated.  He waved to the Lexus.  The driver did not wave back. 

At the next exit, Jonah pulled off and got back onto the freeway going the other direction.  He got off at the exit to J's house.  When he arrived at J's house, J's wife was standing out on the sidewalk beside J holding a plate of warm cinnamon rolls and a cup of steaming coffee.  J was just finishing a roll and wiping his mouth with a napkin.  "Well, it's about time.  What do you think this is, a vacation?"  Jonah shrugged as he stepped out of the car and walked over to H;s wife.  "This for me?" he asked as he reached for a roll and accepted the proffered coffee cup.  "Don't see anyone else around."  J's wife, Anna, smiled and turned her cheek up for the customary peck.  Jonah obliged and, cramming the roll into his mouth, took a few swigs of the coffee,  "Annie, you're a peach as always." Jonah smiled at her as he climbed back into his car.  J waved at Annie as they sped away.

"Took you forever to get here and you can't stay long enough to even eat the rolls Annie made." 
"I ate one."  Jonah protested indignantly. 
"If you can call that eating." J seemed like an over protective mother at times.

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Revision of chapter submitted previously

The sun beat down on Jonah’s head as he trudged across the part dirt, part alley behind the dilapidated building that passed for a store in town. The wind blew grits of sand into his pores competing with the sweat that poured out of them to create rivulets of grime running down his face. He longed for a cold drink right about now. As he came to the end of the alley, he turned and trotted around the corner of the store, stepping onto the hot pavement that ran along Main Street. He hesitated, slinking back into the alley and slipped into the shadow of the store building for a moment thinking furiously. To get to his car he had to cross Main Street, and this was as good a place as any. Main Street, there was a Main Street in almost every town in America. Man, he wanted a drink of water, like NOW.

Jonah stepped out of the shadow, rounded the corner of the building and began to trot down the sidewalk feeling the pressure to get off of Main and back out of sight. Lucky, he thought, that downtown was deserted. So early and already so hot. He wished he hadn’t left his Ruger in the car. He was almost there and no sign of them. As he neared the side street where his car was parked, he slowed and slipped behind the bushes in front of the Tool & Die building. Thank God for landscaping!

Jonah crouched, looking the nearly empty street over. He scanned the rooftops, peering at the windows of the buildings for movement, and tried to ignore the cloud of gnats that had surrounded his face. He swatted at the gnats and tried to decide whether or not to step out into the open. If he waited and A&B were not out there now, they soon would be and he would blow his opportunity to drive out of here. If he stepped out into the open and they were already here waiting, they would blow him away. The tension showed in his locked jaw, a tic pulsed in his temple making his eye twitch. This was ridiculous! He had to just make a decision. He stood slowly, scanning for movement. There was none. He stepped out from the bushes and began running for the car, digging in his pocket for the keys. Almost there. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and began to zig zag as he sped up. He felt a burning sensation across his right temple. Ahhhhh! Pain. He pressed the unlock button on his car remote, pulled the door open and started the car. Bullets were flying, hitting his car. He put the car in gear and hit the gas. In his rear mirror, he saw the A&B agents standing where his car had just been, they were aiming for his tires! “Please don’t let them hit the tires, gas tank, let them miss. Please!!” It was as if a veil had dropped between his car and the bullets. No more hit him as he sped away.

It took three hours of driving before he began to feel hope that he was not going to be found. He had made sure they would not follow him by disabling their vehicles when he first arrived. It was easy to recognize their rides with their special plates. They had not expected him to be there. They thought he was too stupid to realize they would be watching every place he had ever been. He felt confident that it would take them too long to get reinforcements and he would be long gone. Gone, but where? He knew of one place he could go, but he did not want to take the chance of anyone finding the spring. Nothing was as important as protecting the springs secret. Not his family, not his own life. As he drove, he began to plan his next move. It was a sure bet that A&D would be at his apartment, agency headquarters, O’Donovan’s, anywhere they thought he might show up. He wasn’t that stupid. He felt a stab of fear that A&B might find his parents, but reassured himself that he’d done a good job of hiding them. The problem at hand was where to hide himself. He had to protect the spring. He was blind with no means to communicate. He could not use his cell or attempt to contact any of his usual contacts. He had to assume that A&B would have already thought of them.

As he drove, Jonah tried to come up with some place he could reach and hide. He turned all the places he had ever been to over and over in his mind. Then he tried to think of places he had heard about. Every place he thought of had something wrong with it. Mostly too exposed, too likely to be seen, perhaps recognized. Finally, he came back to the spring. The more he thought about the spring, the more he found ways to make hiding there work. If he were careful, he could get the supplies he needed by driving from place to place and purchasing them in pieces. This way he would not be noticeable. He had plenty of cash on him. He was glad of that forethought. He soon had talked himself into it. The risk of discovery would be minimal if he were very, very careful. The longer he was out on the road, the higher the chance of discovery so he needed to get his supplies and disappear as fast as possible.

Jonah looked for a car like his as he drove through the small towns until he found one. He waited until he could switch the plates between the two vehicles. In town after town, he stopped to buy gas cans and fill them up with gasoline. He purchased toilet tissue, paper towels, jerky, cans of food, and of course a can opener, beverages, and other assorted items. He was careful to hide his face underneath the wide brim of the baseball cap he now wore. He avoided the roads and intersections where the traffic cameras were as much as possible. Once he had enough supplies, he backed the car into a grove of trees on a dirt track off of a county highway. It was only then that he slept.

Jonah awoke to the sound of his cell phone alarm. It was dark, but a full moon was providing enough light through the trees to let Jonah see. Jonah relieved himself, ate a cold hoagie and chips, then started the car and drove back to the highway. Refreshed, he drove for hours without stopping. The roads gradually changed from highway to gravel, then dirt. So far so good, he thought. He listened to country 101 as he looked for the unmarked dirt road, path really, that would take him to his destination. Not another traveler around in this wilderness. His next problem would be where to stow the car. As he turned off the road onto the dirt path, he slowed down, came to a stop 300 feet in. Breaking off a branch, he walked back to the road and carefully brushed away the tire tracks. He repeated this three times so that someone would have to drive in quite a ways before seeing the tire tracks. He hoped that by the time anyone came in that far, the tracks would have disappeared.

By the time Jonah had come to the end of the dirt path, daylight was approaching. He continued to drive the car until the ground was too rugged. He had been looking for a place to hide the car and drove until he came to another stand of trees. He pulled the car under the trees and covered it with the camouflage tarp he had purchased. He then scrounged for brush and branches and covered the car further. It was then he realized that he had not taken out his gear.

Jonah set out with a full pack on his back. He had stacked the rest of the gear under the tarp on the ground. It would take a few trips, but it would be worth it to have what he needed and be off the grid. The sun was hot and the pack on his back was heavy. He kept thinking about the first time he had come here. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that this place would get his partner killed, start a full scale manhunt, and put everyone he loved in danger. He knew that if he remained here long enough he would outlast the hunt for him. He was not sure he could last out here as long as he would need to, but if it meant that his parents, his family would be safe, he would have to find a way.

It took him 6 days to get all the gear from the car and make the trek back and forth. He saw no one during that whole time. On the last trip he removed as much evidence as possible of his tracks. It took another day to organize his camp and establish a perimeter. It was then that the reality of his decision set in. That first day when he and his partner, J, had answered the homicide call to Rearden apartments, he had thought that he would be looking at the newest in a string of robbery homicides. He had wondered why he was even being told to go to Rosemount when he was a Minneapolis detective. When he realized the killers had deliberately included him and J, he had felt apprehensive. As the case unfolded and the meaning of the message on the wall became clear to him, and the events unfolded, he had wished he could go back. He would have done everything differently if he had just known.

Now, he would have to wait here….for how long? It wouldn’t matter when the food ran out. His parents would die and not know what had happened to him, but they would be safe from the killers. A&B would only go after them if it looked like his parents could be used to draw him out into the open. He was pretty sure he had taken care of that problem. The world would go on and his name would disappear from the rank and file. He knew that at some point someone would find the car. He hoped later than sooner. He was sure that no one would ever find this place without help. It had been a well kept secret for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. As dusk settled in and the cicadas sound off became almost deafening, Jonah walked to the stream, filled his cup and drank deeply. He stood and waited for the rush. When it came, he realized that his knee was no longer hurting. After twenty years of pain, the absence of pain was proof in itself. He looked at his reflection in the water of a small pool that had collected. The lines in his forehead were gone already. He walked back to his folding chair and camp table, pulled out one of the notebooks and a pencil. He began to write. He began the wait.

Rebekah Buteski sat in the rain. The wind whipped her hair as the water ran in rivulets down the strands of hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She shivered, but did not move. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying and her cheeks were chapped a light pink. Blaine walked up to her, throwing a wool blanket over her shoulders. He reached down and buttoned the black coat she wore. Rebekah didn’t even notice. As Blaine opened an umbrella and positioned it over her and himself, she continued to stare at the two freshly dug graves. The full weight of being alone pressed down upon her. There were no other Buteski’s in the world, except maybe Jonah, but if her were alive, he would have contacted them by now. He would have come to the funeral if he had been alive. He must be dead after all these years.

After an hour, Blaine spoke interrupting Rebekah’s thoughts. “Ree, we have to leave and get inside. You need to get inside where it is warm and I can’t hold this damn umbrella any longer. We both need some hot tea. Come on Ree.” Blaine reached down squeezing Rebekah’s shoulder. He took her hand in his and pulled on her to get up. Ree resisted, but only slightly. She was cold even with the blanket and her coat. Besides, the folding chair had begun to sink into the wet ground. As they walked toward the Harley, Rebekah considered all that was left to do. Her grandparents, her last living relatives were now dead, murdered by the EU forces when they took Milwaukee. The fighting had been intense. She remembered the horror, the destruction, the armed reserves fighting alongside the men and women who lived there, the death. It seemed like things would never be the same again. Blaine spoke, again interrupting Rebekah’s thoughts, “Home, Ree, to your grandparents house?”

“Yes, to my grandparent’s house. Home.”

The drive was short and quiet. Ree remained lost in her thoughts. The drive way to her grandparent’s house, now hers, was off a gravel road 20 miles from a small town outside of Milwaukee. The mile long drive wound through woods opening up onto a meadow. The driveway circled the meadow and ended in front of a house cleverly nestled in the trees. The house was truly an architectural wonder, complete with wind and solar power, a greenhouse, water storage tank, and a survival bunker. There was even a gasoline tank. The reason Ree could still get around in this gas deprived, dollar defunct new world. Ree marveled at how well her grandparents had planned. The house and the drive could not be seen from the air.

Blaine opened the garage door and motored the Harley into the garage, parking next to the antique Ford Mustang. Once inside the house, Ree walked into the kitchen and began filling the tea kettle. She turned on the burner and set the kettle on to heat. It felt good to fill her mind with familiar routines. She filled the watering can and began watering the plants that dotted the kitchen. These plants were the only ones that needed watering. Ree and Blaine had brought the plants with them. The greenhouse plants were watered by an automatic system as well as fed by an automatic feeding system. The system had continued on it’s own. The plant growth was out of control but that would quickly be taken care of. Blaine sat and watched her moving about. “Ree, what next?”

“I don’t know. Pack up their things I suppose. It’s not like we can really go anywhere. This is the best place for us for now.”

“It’s for the best you know.”

“I’m glad we could finally lay them to rest where they had planned on being buried.”

Ree shrugged her shoulders, moving to take the kettle off the stove. She turned off the burner and spooned loose tea into the tea strainer, setting it into the porcelain tea pot. She poured the hot water into the strainer watching it seep through the strainer into the pot. She continued to slowly pour the water as she spoke. “It took long enough. I thought I would carry their ashes with me forever. After we have gone through the house and packed their things, I want to take stock of what supplies we have. We’ll see if we can afford to stay here. Ok with you?”

“Yep, ok with me. This place is the best place for us now. Even if we don’t have all we need, we’re still better off here.”

As the week passed, Ree and Blaine pulled dust covers off of furniture, assessed their supplies, took control of the overgrown green house, and rounded up some of the livestock gone wild. Packing her grandparents personal possessions was pushed back day by day as they went about the business of living. Before she realized it, a month had gone by. Spring was in the air and Ree and Blaine knew that if they were going to eat next winter, they needed to grow food this summer. Her grandparents had been smart and had stored plenty of seed. Together they brainstormed the best way to plant. They could chase down the Morgans and use them to plow. So it was that they began the task of planting for their survival. It was hard work and Ree realized how little she had appreciated the food she used to get from the grocery store. They got most of the seeds into the ground when a rainy spell hit.

It was the third dreary day of rain. Blaine looked out the window of their bedroom. “I am already tired of this rain. It can let up anytime now.” Ree stretched and rolled over on the bed. “Good for the crops.”

“Not crops yet, Ree, just seeds.”

“Seeds become crops. I’m hungry, gonna make me breakfast in bed?”

“You don’t look like the Queen of England to me. How about we spend the day packing up your grandparent’s personals. After we do the chores.”

“ I suppose. I have to admit I feel, I don’t know, sad I guess when I think about packing up their stuff. I keep thinking I should be ok with it by now, but when I think about starting I just am not sure I’m entirely ready to deal with it. Does that make sense?”

“Ree, we don’t have to do it today. It can wait as long as it need to.”

Ree climbed out of bed, stretched some more and headed for the bathroom. Blaine jumped on the bed and stretched out on his back. He waited for her response. When it came it was almost muffled by the water running in the sink.

“No, I think it’s time. We should do it while we have time.”

After breakfast and the chores, Ree and Blaine headed to the bedroom that had been her grandparents. She had not been in this room since before the War. When Blaine opened the door an odor of mustiness assailed them. “Even with the great circulation this house has, we still get musty smells.” Ree said as she moved to the window to open it.

“There’s so much stuff. Hey, what do we pack it all in?” Blaine exclaimed as he looked around.

“Yeah, I didn’t think about that. And what do we do with it after we get it all packed? The garage? It’s not like we can haul it to the local thrift shop. Well, we don’t need this room at this point anyway.’ Ree smiled and looked at Blaine in that intimate way. They shared a moment of expectation as both thought about the future together.

“Alright, let’s just clean up a bit and go through the room just to see what’s here.”

“Ok. I get the dresser.” A jewelry box sat on the dresser. One wall of the room was filled with books and knick knacks on cherry wood shelves with framed glass doors. A door on each side of the shelving led to the bathroom and the walk in closets. On the adjacent wall was a large window and an expanse of wall that ended with French doors. It was comforting somehow to Rebekah to know that her grandparents had shared the large bed that dominated one wall.

“You always get the good stuff.”

Ree laughed, walked to the dresser and began opening drawers.

Hours later, Blaine exclaimed. “Ree! Look at what I found.” He had been going through the different books and folders on the shelving. He pulled the books off of the shelf to clear a space so Ree could see what he was excited about. There on the wall was a safe. The safe door was small, about 2 feet square. It had a keypad lock with a turnstyle handle. They stood and looked at the door for a long minute.

“Well, what do you suppose is in there?”

“I didn’t know my grandparents had that.”

“We won’t know what’s in it if we can’t find the code to open it.”

“What about busting into it?”

Blaine shrugged, “I bet it’s one of those safes that are foolproof. It would be like your grandparents to put something like that in.”

“Aren’t all safes foolproof?’

“Some more than others. Maybe your uncle, wasn’t he a cop? Maybe he had them put this in.”

“Yeah, whatever. There has to be a code, something written down somewhere. New game, find the code.”

The rest of the day and the next, Ree and Blaine tore the bedroom and the house upside down looking for something to tell them the code to the safe. It was at the end of the second day when Ree yelled excitedly.”Blaine, Blaine, I think I found it.” She came running into the greenhouse where Blaine had been going through the storage shelving holding an empty jar and a piece of paper which she waved excitedly in the air. “I think this is it.”

Blaine grabbed the paper out of her hand. “It’s a code alright. Did you try it?”

“Yeah silly, I just came running in here telling you I think I found it after trying it and finding out it works, or doesn’t?”

Together they raced to the safe. Blaine entered the numbers on the paper in the sequence they were written. He turned the handle. It clicked and the door opened. The inside of the safe was larger than the door. There were shelves on the left and the right. On the shelves were various small jewelry boxes, larger boxes, and stacks of gold and silver coins. On the bottom of the safe was a plain manila envelope. As Blaine handed the boxes one by one to Ree, she opened each one. There must have been a fortune in diamonds and precious stones. Ree and Blaine just stared at the jewels and coins.

“This stuff is barterable. We can get more supplies, things we need, gasoline. Blaine, we can….”

“Ree, look at this” Blaine had opened the manila envelope. Inside was a document, it was elegant, handwritten word in Script, it looked to be quite old. Blaine laid the document on the bed and emptied the rest of the contents from the manila envelope onto the bed. They sat on the bed side by side and began to read the pages. As they read, they realized they were reading the writing of Ree’s uncle Jonah Buteski. The afternoon passed as they read with incredulity and fascination the story of Jonah, a vision come true, and a spring.

The sky was darkening when Ree looked at Blaine with a look of finality. “We have to go. We have to go there Blaine. This just can’t be true, but we have to go there.”

Blaine sighed, “Here we go again.”

Serenity Scene Rewrite

For my fiction writing class, I have rewritten one of the scenes in the movie Serenity.  I have chosen this scene to meet the criteria set for me by my teacher.  We were to choose a scene that would fit the one of the chapters of Mythic Storytelling.  Mythic Storytelling Structure:


• Ordinary World

• Call to Adventure

• Refusal of the Call

• Meeting the Mentor (Wise Old Man or Woman)

• Crossing the First Threshold

• Test, Allies, Enemies

• Approach to the Inmost Cave

• Supreme Ordeal

• Reward (Seizing the Sword)

• The Road Back

• Resurrection

• Return with the Elixir

___________________________________________________________________________________

The movie Serenity, followed a short lived series called Firefly. The setting is some 500 years in the future. The Alliance is the ruling government in the known universe. The crew of the starship Serenity are what is known as “independents”. They are freight haulers and smugglers. This scene is Refusal of the Call.


The scene begins in the cockpit of the spaceship Serenity. The quarters are tight and the lighting is dim. The ship is experiencing mechanical failure and the Captain and his crew have decided to rob the vault of a planetary company. All on board are agreed except Doc. Doc’s sister, River, is a “reader”. She can read minds. She has gained this ability as a result of being experimented on by the Alliance, the universal government. Her brother, Doc, rescued from the “Academy” where River was being experimented on. He, along with River, and all of the Serenity crew are fugitives from the Alliance.

Captain has entered the cockpit where the pilot sits to steer or pilot the ship. At this time, the pilot is seated, facing the windshield at the front of the huge starship. He is maneuvering the steering wheel and joystick like controls while punching buttons on the lighted panel to his left trying to keep the ship from rattling itself apart due to mechanical failure. Captain has just turned to leave the cockpit after speaking with the pilot when Doc, the ships doctor comes into the cockpit, stands behind Captain, and when he turns to leave, confronts him.

As the two men, Doc and Captain, face each other in the cockpit of the ship, Captain speaks first.

“Well, Doc, guess I need to get a shot from you before we go through planetary atomosphere. Ride is a bit rough, but nothing to be worried about. No need to be ashamed of being afraid.”

“I’m not worried Captain, I’m angry.”

“My eyes would be wider, like this.”

“I’ll try to remember that for next time.”

“She’s not going.”

Captain turns and walks down the corridor toward the ships infirmary with Doc following. “No, no, I’m not having this conversation with you Doc.”

Both enter the ships infirmary where the Doctor preps an inoculation against the planets diseases. Conversation continues as Captain seats himself on the exam table and Doc gives Captain a shot.

“Captain, my sister is not going with you and that is final.”

Captain jumps off of the table, walks out of the infirmary heading toward the cargo bay. Doc walks behind him as the conversation continues.

“I hear those words again and it will be final for you. This boat is home to me. You are my guests and River will help us out this time.”

“I am not just a guest, I’ve earned my way on this boat treating the bullet, laser, and knife wounds.”

“Well, some of our jobs are interesting to say the least. It’s time your sister followed your example and earned her way too.”

“Do you realize how hard I have worked to rescue River from the Alliance and keep her from them?”

“Yes, and we have been neighborly and kept your secret.”

“I don’t want River in the middle of the violence.”

“River will help out on this job. It’s just one job and she’ll be fine”

“She’s a 17 year old who has been mistreated.”

The cargo bay is huge.  It has metal grid floors, gray walls, and a huge bay door and ramp that is the whole back wall.  The door opens and the ramp lowers to allow loading and off loading of cargo.  Overhead is simulated sunlight shining down to fill the whole cargo bay with light.  Along the walls are cargo containers in various groups and sizes.  Captain walked over to some cargo containers and began shifting them into one stack along the far wall. As he did, he explained to Doc.

“She is a reader Doc. She can be very helpful. She is coming. I have to stay ahead of the Alliance because I have kept you and your sister on board. I enjoyed that you put one over on the alliance, but that means I have had to turn down jobs, even honest ones. Every year it gets harder to stay one jump ahead of the Alliance and we need this job. Without it we may not be able to go on as we are. River comes. Don’t test me Doc and I won’t fail you.

Captain turned and walked away from the containers and Doc toward the engine room. Doc turned and headed up the stairs of the cargo bay to where River was lying on the grating face down. “River, “

“I know,” she said, “We’re going on a job.”

___________________________________
Mythic Structure: The Basic Elements

The Hero's Journey in a nutshell

A hero must start off in an 'ordinary' world, where the stage is set and character relationships are established. Before long the hero will be separated from this world, when he receives a Call to Adventure. But although he may be eager to accept the quest, at this stage he'll have lingering doubts or fears that need overcoming. So his first, quick response will be a Refusal of the Call.

Our hero's doubts and fears will be dispelled when he meets a mentor figure, who will give him something he needs, maybe an item and/or advice, so he can progress on his quest.

Armed with the mentor's help, the hero will begin his descent into the world of the unknown by Crossing the Threshold. He may go willingly, or he may be pushed. The symbol of 'falling' is often important here, seen for instance in the Tarot card of The Fool, who is depicted as about to step unknowingly into the abyss. This often happens symbolically rather than physically - how many stories see the hero 'falling' in love?

Once he's immersed in the special world of the story, the hero will meet both allies and enemies and will have to undergo a series of tests, culminating in an Ordeal and a consequent (usually metaphorical) death and rebirth.

Emerging from this the hero must now begin the Road Back, completing the mythic cycle. After confronting death during the ordeal he will have got some kind of a reward, which will equip him with the will to finish. He must now face a final showdown and at the moment of climax he will experience a Resurrection, bringing with it an element of sacrifice and ultimately a resolution to the story. At the end he will have returned to the ordinary world with an elixir, which he can share with all the people who have benefited from his heroic escapade. He will have been transformed by the journey, and his new understanding will radiate out, affecting everyone.

There are different ways in which the cycle is completed, and this will reflect the style of storytelling. Often European stories will end without neat ends, following Aristotle's theory and signifying that an important change has occurred. In contrast Hollywood is more eager to produce scripts with reassuring (happy!) endings, which tend to confirm the status quo.

BLIND DATE

I was so excited when I left the house this evening. I met her on Yahoo Personals and thought that this could just be the start of something really great. Boy was I wrong. The first problem I ran into was a communication glitz. We agreed to meet at the Donegans in Schofield. Well, apparently there are two Donegans in Schofield and she was at the other one. This was somewhat easily corrected by phone. Good thing we both have cells. So the date started late. She sure is beautiful.


Once we were seated, she went to ‘powder her nose’. While she was gone, I took the liberty of ordering an appetizer. Funny thing, she has never been to Donegans, or so she said. How was I to know she was terribly allergic to the horseradish they put in the crab cakes? Her face swelled up like a balloon. I thought she was going to die right there. So I called 911. She started having trouble breathing, or so I thought, so I grabbed her out of her chair and laid her flat on the floor. She says she was telling me no, but I couldn’t tell what she was saying. I gave her mouth to mouth, and she tried to beat the crap out of me. I thought she was having convulsions because she couldn’t breathe. Apparently, she thought I was going to try to rape her right there on the floor.

The paramedics came and took her to the emergency room. I guess she really was having trouble breathing by then. I have her purse, keys, and cell phone with me. I guess I have to give them back. I am wondering if I can just mail them.

THE INCIDENT

Life was not easy for Val. She was the oldest child of a divorcee in the 1960s. She lived with her mother and aunt in a small green house on a dirt street on the poor end of town. Her mother worked as a seamstress and made less money that the guy down the street who did the exact same job. The reason he made more money, her mother was told, was because he had to support a family. Poverty was an enemy Val and her mother lived with all of Val’s childhood.


When Val was four, Lisa moved into the neighborhood. Lisa was four years old too and her family moved only three houses down the block from Val’s house. That summer was the most fun for Val. She and Lisa played games, shared tea and teapot sets, saved the world, and mother’d their dolls.

One day when Val asked to go play with Lisa, her mother and aunt told her no. They were quiet and whispered a lot. Val did not understand why she could not go over to play with Lisa. She saw Lisa several times that day, but Lisa never waved to her. Lisa would come and go holding her mother’s hand. There was a man with them whom Val had never seen before. Several days went by and Val thought her mother and aunt were being unfair. They were not telling her something and she did not know why it was that Lisa did not come over anymore.

After three days, Val slipped away from her yard in the heat of the afternoon and walked over to Lisa’s house. She walked up the sidewalk, the stairs, and across the large front porch. The inner door was open and Val could see the man and Lisa’s mom in the living room. He was hitting Lisa’s mom. The man turned and saw Val. Suddenly Val was terribly afraid. She knew instinctively from the fear on Lisa’s mom’s face that she was in trouble. The man headed for Val, anger on his face. He was so tall. He loomed over Val. Val refused to back away. “Why are you here?” The man asked. “I came to play with Lisa.” Val said, her voice shaking. “Well, if you want to play, I will play with you.” The man reached for Val. Suddenly, Lisa’s mother was there between Val and the man. “Val, go home now.” Val turned and ran out the door as fast as she could. She looked back once and saw the man beating Lisa’s mom.

Val told her mother tearfully what had happened. Her mother blanched white, and ran to the phone. Before the police arrived, a thunderous crack was heard that reverberated throughout the neighborhood. That afternoon, Lisa’s house was a bevy of activity. The horrible man was walked out of the house and put into the back of a police car. Someone was taken out of the house on a stretcher with a white sheet hanging down. Police came and talked to Val’s mother and aunt. People came and took Lisa away.

Later that evening, Val’s mother told Val that the man was Lisa’s dad. He had been in prison and when he got out he found Lisa and her mother. Val was scolded severely for disobeying her mother and going to Lisa’s house. The man had been angry that Lisa and Lisa’s mother had made friends with Val’s family. When Val went into the house, he reached for Val to hurt her. Lisa’s mother interfered and fought back when her husband tried to go after Val. This had resulted in the man shooting his wife. Lisa’s mom was in the hospital, fighting for her life,and Lisa’s dad was in jail again. Lisa was with social services.

Val only saw Lisa two more times. Once when Lisa and her mom moved out of the house and across town, and again when she went over with her mother to say goodbye. Lisa and her mother were moving to another state. Val played with Lisa both times, but it was not the same carefree play that it had been. Lisa was different. She cried a lot and was fussy. She wanted to move from one thing to another constantly. Val felt guilty for a long time. She believed that if she had not gone over to Lisa’s and had not disobeyed her mother, Lisa’s mother would not have had to protect her. It was a long time before she realized that the man would have hurt Lisa’s mother and perhaps Lisa anyway.

There have been numerous, small moments over the years when Val wondered what ever became of Lisa and her mother.

4 Quad

Note:  This story is incomplete.  I have posted only the segment that I have completed.  I have a rough draft of more.  I was amazed at how completely I became engrossed in this story.  I started with a paragraph description, then suddenly the story developed a life of its own.  It is an example of the writing technique Blue Moon.  I have never tried a fantasy or science fiction piece before. 

4 Quad


Ambassador Jenkins leaned back in his mahogany leather, ergonomic executive office chair. He was quite proud of the vintage antique replica, circa 2290, of an original ergonomic executive office chair, circa 1990. He laid the brief pad he had been reading on his large mahogany desk, another vintage antique replica, and sighed. “Rrrrktka,” he spoke into the com unit on his desk. “Have you verified transport departure?” A small, dark and furry, 2 legged mounse the size of a small woman scuffled into the Jenkins office. “Transporrrrt verified sssir, you are to board the Nemesis at 0800” she said as she settled into one of the two leather chairs on the other side of Jenkin’s desk. She wrapped her tail neatly across her lap and over the arm of the chair. “Why, are you innnn a hurry to go?” she asked with a look that Jenkins knew was her smile. It was hard for humans to tell when a mounse was smiling as their long snout like mouths were perpetually formed into what humans identified as a grin.

“Now Rrrrktka, don’t try to bait me.” Jenkins sighed again, stood and stretched. He walked to the window overlooking the Euclid Wars Memorial. The square was teeming with people.

“Rrrrktka, I am going to leave Harcourt in charge while I am gone. Please help him as you help me. As difficult as things are now, he will need your good advice and assistance. “

Rrrrktka nodded, and stood up to leave the room. “Shallll I notify media relations as to the time of your departure?”

“Not this time,” Jenkins said. “This time I want to board without the headache of the media relations.” Rrrrktka walked out of the room and closed the door.

Jenkins spoke, “Della, download my itinerary titled “4 Quad Planet” to list number one. All the offices except the media relations office.” Jenkins knew he would have to throw some kind of information to the media at some point, but he was not in any hurry. He continued to ponder about the timing of his anouncement, and what to put into it. At length, he made a decision. He spoke to Della again. “Della, send Rrrrktka in.”

Della chimed. “Done.”

The door opened with a hiss and Rrrrktka walked in and seated herself again in one of the two chairs opposite Jenkins desk. Jenkins turned from the window and re-seated himself in his office chair.

“Rrrrktka, I want to send a communiqué to the media relations office next week telling them about the ambassadorial exchange. I want as little information as possible in that communiqué. Something like, Ambassador Jenkins is currently off world visiting the 4 Quad civilization. His visit to 4 Quad is part of an ambassadorial exchange aimed at promoting, etc..etc…yadda, yadda, and so on. You know what I want.”

Rrrrktka swished her wrapped tail end, “Dellllla did you get that?”

Della chimed assent.

“Jenkins, I rrrrealize that you are afraid of another media riot like the one last year, but issssn’t that why USCHEU formed the media relations department. Asss a governmentally regulated department, media relationsss controlllsss alll assspectsss of presss releasssesss and conferencesss. Why arrre you worried?”

Jenkins frowned, forming a crease between his eyebrows. “I am not worried. I just do not like the media, or the media relations department. I question their competency and do not want to give them too much information to speculate with. When I return, I will schedule a full press conference and provide the press with full, true details that they can’t misrepresent.”

Rrrrktka swished her tail end again, “By not tellling the presss what isss going on now, you open up ssspeculation. Coullldn’t that be worssse?”

“By not giving them any information, I deny them the ability to speculate Rrrrktka. That is what I am after. I don’t want any public opinion group, core Dem group, or any other group to start some wave of sentiment against our possible alliance with this planet.” Now Jenkins scowled outright.

Rrrrktka nodded, wisely keeping silent. Jenkins spoke again, “You know that it is as easy for a protest to get started as it is to snap your fingers. Oh! Sorry.” Mounses can’t snap their fingers.

“That’s ok. You can’t swish your tail.” They smiled at each other in a comfortableness born from long familiarity. “Anything elllssse whillle I’m here?” Rrrrktka asked pointedly. She didn’t like it when he kept calling her in to cover one point at a time.

“I think that was the last detail. At least I hope so. I am sorry to keep calling you in. I guess I could have left it all to Della, but you know I value your personal input.” Jenkins knew that would mollify Rrrrktka, and it did.

“Thank you Jenkinsss. I am glllad to be of assistance wherrrever I can. If that isss all forrr today, I will be llleaving. I have a dinnerrr date at the Rrrye Grrrain Templlle Café. I don’t want to be lllate. Pllleassse rrremember I have tomorrrow off. I will not sssee you beforrre yourrr rrreturrrn. I willl make an oferrring to Grrrain forrr the sssuccesss of yourrr trrrip.” Rrrrktka waited for Jenkins to affirm that she would not be needed again. Jenkins nodded. “That’s fine , yes, I think we are done here. If there is anything else, I will give it to Della and you can address it tomorrow. Have a good date. I hope you have a fruitful outcome. Thank you for the offering.”

As Jenkins watched Rrrrktka leave for the last time that day, he secretly gave thanks for the quirk of nature that had cause the GMO Mounse species to lose their ability to have more than one mounse in a litter. It was also good, he thought, that they could only have one litter every two years. It put them more on par with humans. Of course, humans could replicate without sex, but what was the fun in that? Jenkins sighed, stretching, and got up again. He walked to the wall across from his desk and activated the bar. He poured himself an Obama Slick. He rubbed his hair and sighed again,activating the hand lav. As he washed his hands in the air stream, he looked in the Holomir at his reflection. “Holo activate,” he said. The corresponding chime indicated his request had been received. “Brown hair, chin hair, black eyes.” His image changed. He did not like the look. After trying out a couple of more images, he decided to stay with his current look. Then a thought occurred to him. “Della, download information on 4 Quad anatomy, physical characteristics and variations to the Holomir. different chime took him out of his reflections. “Yes, Della?”

“You have a frit from the Nemesis.”

“Open. This is Jenkins.”

In the middle of the room, a man in uniform appeared, standing with his hands behind his back, he lifted his right hand in standard acknowledgement of the ambassador.

“Ambassador, this is Warhol of the Nemesis. I have fritted to your Hcom all pertinent information for your arrival aboard. Your Rrrrktka has given a detailed list of your requirements while on board. My Beta has attended to these personally. We look forward to your arrival.”

Jenkins nodded, then lifted his hand in the familiar acknowledgement. “Thank you Warhol of the Nemesis. I am certain that all my requirements will be attended to most satisfactorily. I look forward to the honor of boarding your ship.”

“We will greet you soon. Warhol out.” Warhol vanished.

Jenkins grunted, then walked to his desk. “Della prep meal number 15 for me.”

“Sorry that meal is not appropriate for you at this time. I suggest meal number 3.”

“I don’t want meal number 3. I want meal number 15.”

“Sorry, but meal number 15 is not allowed at this time.”

Jenkins felt irritation rise like a burst of steam. The steam immediately dissipated as he accepted the inevitable. He had been through this too many times not to know the outcome. “Alright Della, the number 3.”

From the wall, an Ai walked out with a steaming plate on a tray complete with napkin, utensils, and beverage. Draped over the Ais arm was a waiter’s towel. As the Ai placed the tray on the desk, fussing over the accompanying flower arrangement and condiments, Jenkins walked to the window again and looked out over the square. No need to wonder what the weather would be. It was always California perfect. He wished he had seen California before the WW VI war.

“Della, call Mom.” Once the frit to his mother was open, he began with the customary pleasantries.

“Yes, Mom, all is well with me. I am calling for a reason other than to catch up. I will be leaving the planet in 48 hours to go to a new planet we hope to ally with. I wanted to let you know and say goodbye. I should be back in 3 months.”

“3 months? That seems rather long. This planet you are going to, what is the name?”

“4 Quad. It is a 7 day journey by Hdrive. I will be boarding the Nemesis in 48 hours. The Nemesis will take me there and remain there with me. The 4 Quad civilization is relatively unknown to us. The information we have about their way of life is sketchy. What we do know is that they are a powerful civilization to all intents and purposes. We have met with them on three separate occasions, and it has been decided that an exchange of ambassadors will allow both sides to learn more about the core of the other civilization. What I have been told is that the 4 Quads are a precise, rather rigid society. They do everything in 4s. This is why I have been chosen to go. My precision and attention to detail was a plus in this situation.”

“Shall I frit over and see you off?”

“No, I’d rather you did not as it seems that whenever the media get wind of you, they turn out like kids going to a circus. I want to avoid any contact with them. All media events are now supposed to be scheduled through the media relations office, but there are still some rogue mediasts willing to pay a fine and spend time in the meditation cells just to get a story.”

“Perhaps I should change my face. Then no one would recognize me. Noooo??´she said seeing the look on her son’s face.

“Mom, you know someone could have a holovid diffuser. If they see you coming to the opolis, they will want to know why you have made the trip. I told you not to recluse yourself. Now, anytime you go anywhere, it’s news. I don’t want the mediasts to know that I am leaving until after I’m gone.”

“Then I want to see you before you leave. I will prepare for your arrival tonight.”

“But, I can’t come tonight….”

“Yes, you can and will. I will see you at 0600. Love you.”

Before Jenkins could protest more, she was gone. Jenkins smiled and realized he had known this would be the outcome of a chat with Mom. He realized the lack of time and jumped up. He had so much to do before dinner. “Della, arrange a transpar. Download the route to my mother’s house, the one in Auckland. Departure time 0500.” So much to do.


4 Quad

Jenkins eased himself into the chair. They were not built for humans, and he fidgeted a bit to find the most comfortable spot. He reviewed what he had learned thus far about the 4 Quads. He had created 2 reports. One for the media relations department, and one for USCHEU. The reports were very detailed. After all, he was a detailed man. He grunted as he thought about details. The 4 quads put him to shame when it came to details. He had never, ever, seen such a detailed and rigid society. Their entire life revolved around 4. Their homes, families, government, everything right down to the number of grids forming a sidewalk were 4 or a derivative of 4. They were, however, strangely silent about religious beliefs they might have.

He was currently reviewing the media relations departmental report. The report read: For the purpose of this report, I will refer to the members of the 4 Quad society as quad people or just 4 Quads. The 4 Quad civilization is a technologically superior civilization to ours. Largely agrarian, 4 Quad has much to offer our civilization if an alliance is finalized. I will summarize the significant advantages we can realize from a proposed partnership as well as the possible problems we may realize in that same partnership. The report was long and involved.

He continued to review the report until he came to his review of a typical 4 quad home. He re-read his description. The 4 Quad society is dominated by its rigidity and devotion to the equivalent of what we refer to as the number 4. All familial structures and homes are identical in a number of ways.

There are always 4 quad people in 4 rooms. When the 4 Quads bear progeny, a shifting of families occurs to assure that there are never more than 4 in a home. They bear children in 4s per familial unit. Each room of every home has 4 windows and each room has 4 walls. Every house has 4 doors. In every house there are 4 chairs, 4 beds, and 4 tables. None of the furniture is built as humans would build it. I have included vidpics. One room is the kitchen combined dining area. One room is for living use and the other two rooms are bedrooms. Each bedroom has a small bathroom off it. The 4 quads (quad people) do not consider bathrooms to be rooms. Their bathrooms are not anything like a human’s bathroom. The houses can vary in size and do, but all sizes, large or small, are derivatives of 4.

The 4 quads do not understand kitchens as we humans do. Their idea of food is more consistent with the feeding habits of a shark. I have included a special section on the vegetation, foods, and eating habits of the 4 Quads. They sleep 4 hours at a time, 4 times a day with a 32 hour day cycle as opposed to our 24 hour day cycle. Their language is a mathematical derivative of 4, and they do not understand the world of variety that we humans have. Within the homes are subtle variations of design such as artwork, fabrics, and other individualistic signs.

Jenkins stopped reading and eased himself out of the chair. He heard footfalls coming to the room he occupied within the 4 Quad home. This was the home of the 4 Quad ambassador who had traveled to Earth in his place. He remembered parts of lecture series on the 4 Quads from ambassadorial college. His teacher, Wong, the only Ambassador to have lived with the Euclids, had also been the first Ambassador to have contact with the 4 Quads. He thought about the information he had received from his visit to Wong to refresh himself on all available information and insight on the 4 Quads. It was then he found out Wong had been instrumental in the decision to send him to the 4 Quad planet. Wong had told him again the history of the discovery and first contact with the 4 Quads.

“We met them off world in the year 2040 after the Euclid Wars. We barely won those wars and needed to find allies to deter the Euclids from attempting more aggression. Earth had few resources left after the Wars. Rebuilding was difficult and slow. We sent ships out looking for other civilizations, and after an initial contact with the 4 Quad civilization, negotiations were started. They are still ongoing. The 4 Quads do not do anything in a hurry. It does not matter to them whether or not we need a quicker pace, they will only form an alliance if they have the time to study the matter and if they decide it’s to their advantage. We are no different. In an effort to quicken the pace, we have negotiated an ambassadorial visit to the 4 Quad planet. Because of your attention to detail, your own ambassadorial history, and my familiarity with you, with who you are, coupled with the extreme importance of this exchange, I have thrown my influence behind you. There are few planets we can ally with who could benefit us as much as the 4 Quads. You must give this your very best effort.” Wong had told him with all the seriousness of a man at a deathbed. “Affairs are more serious than you know.”

Jenkins felt the pressure as he had never felt on any other assignment. This was so very important. He knew it was, but because of Wong’s words, he knew that it was more important than he could see. Affairs were more serious. He wished he knew what that meant, and how they were more serious.

(to be continued)

Spring Lake

The sun beat down on Jonah’s head as he trudged across the part dirt, part alley behind the dilapidated building that passed for a store in town. The wind blew grits of sand into his pores competing with the sweat that poured out of them to create rivulets of grime running down his face. He longed for a cold drink right about now. As he came to the end of the alley, he turned and trotted around the corner of the store, stepping onto the hot pavement that ran along Main Street. He hesitated, slinking back into the alley and slipped into the shadow of the store building for a moment thinking furiously. To get to his car he had to cross Main Street, and this was as good a place as any. Main Street, there was a Main Street in almost every town in America. Man! He wanted a drink of water, like NOW!

Jonah stepped out of the shadow, rounded the corner of the building and began to trot down the sidewalk feeling the pressure to get off of Main and back out of sight. Lucky, he thought, that downtown was deserted. So early and already so hot. He wished he hadn’t left his Ruger in the car. He was almost there and no sign of them. As he neared the side street where his car was parked, he slowed and slipped behind the bushes in front of the Tool & Die building. Thank God for landscaping!

Jonah crouched, looking the nearly empty street over. He scanned the rooftops, peering at the windows of the buildings for movement, and tried to ignore the cloud of gnats that had surrounded his face. He swatted at the gnats and tried to decide whether or not to step out into the open. If he waited and A&B were not out there now, they soon would be and he would blow his opportunity to drive out of here. If he stepped out into the open and they were already here waiting, they would blow him away. The tension showed in his locked jaw, a tic pulsed in his temple making his eye twitch. This was ridiculous! He had to just make a decision. He stood slowly, scanning for movement. There was none. He stepped out from the bushes and began running for the car, digging in his pocket for the keys. Almost there. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and began to zig zag as he sped up. He felt a burning sensation across his right temple! Ahhhhh! Pain!!!! He pressed the unlock button on his car remote, pulled the door open and started the car. Bullets were flying, hitting his car. He put the car in gear and hit the gas. In his rear mirror, he saw the A&B agents standing where his car had just been, they were aiming for his tires! “Please don’t let them hit the tires, gas tank, let them miss! Please!!” It was as if a veil had dropped between his car and the bullets. No more hit him as he sped away.

It took three hours of driving before he began to feel hope that he was not going to be found. He had made sure they would not follow him by disabling their vehicles when he first arrived. It was easy to recognize their rides with their special plates. They had not expected him to be there. He felt confident that it would take them too long to get reinforcements and he would be gone. As he drove, he began to plan his next move. It was a sure bet that A&D would be at his apartment, agency headquarters, Donnegans, anywhere they thought he might show up. He wasn’t that stupid. He felt a stab of fear that A&B might find his parents, but reassured himself that he’d done a good job of hiding them. The problem at hand was where to hide himself. He had to protect the source! He was blind with no means to communicate. He could not use his cell or attempt to contact any of his usual contacts. He had to assume that A&B would have already thought of them. It was then that he realized where to go. What a fool he was!

Jonah looked for a car like his as he drove through the small towns until he found one. He waited until he could switch the plates between the two vehicles. In town after town, he stopped to buy gas cans and fill them up with gasoline. He purchased toilet tissue, paper towels, jerky, cans of food, beverages, and other assorted items, careful to hide his face underneath the wide brim of the baseball cap he now wore. He avoided the roads and intersections where the traffic cameras were as much as possible. Once he had enough supplies, he backed the car into a grove of trees on a dirt track off of a county highway. It was only then that he slept.

Jonah awoke to the sound of his cell phone alarm. It was dark, but a full moon was providing enough light through the trees to let Jonah see. Jonah relieved himself, ate a cold hoagie and chips, then started the car and drove back to the highway. Refreshed, he drove for hours without stopping. The roads gradually changed from highway to gravel, then dirt. So far so good, he thought. He listened to country 101 as he looked for the unmarked dirt road, path really, that would take him to his destination. Not another traveler around in this wilderness. His next problem would be where to stow the car. As he turned off the road onto the dirt path, he slowed down, then came to a stop 300 feet in. Breaking off a branch, he walked back to the road and carefully brushed away the tire tracks. He repeated this three times so that someone would have to drive in quite a ways before seeing the tire tracks. He hoped that by the time anyone came in that far, the tracks would have disappeared.

By the time Jonah had come to the end of the dirt path, daylight was approaching. He continued to drive the car until the ground was too rugged. He had been looking for a place to hide the car and drove until he came to another stand of trees. He pulled the car under the trees and covered it with the camouflage tarp he had purchased. He then scrounged for brush and branches and covered the car further. It was then he realized that he had not taken out his gear.

Jonah set out with a full pack on his back. He had stacked the rest of the gear under the tarp on the ground. It would take a few trips, but it would be worth it to have what he needed and be off the grid. The sun was hot and the pack on his back was heavy. He kept thinking about the first time he had come here. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that this place would get his partner killed, start a full scale manhunt, and put everyone he loved in danger. He knew that if he remained here long enough he would outlast the hunt for him. He was not sure he could last out here as long as he would need to, but if it meant that his parents, his family would be safe, then he would have to find a way.

It took him 6 days to get all the gear from the car and make the trek back and forth. He saw no one during that whole time. On the last trip he removed as much evidence as possible of his tracks. It took another day to organize his camp and establish a perimeter. It was then that the reality of his decision set in. That first day when he and his partner, Trevor, had answered the homicide call to Rearden apartments, he had thought that he would be looking at the newest in a string of robbery homicides. The case had finally been put into his department’s hands and he had been excited to be assigned to it. He wished he could go back. He would have done everything differently if he had just known.

Now, he would have to wait here….for how long? It wouldn’t matter when the food ran out. His parents would die and not know what had happened to him, but they would be safe. The world would go on and his name would disappear from the rank and file. He knew that at some point someone would find the car. He hoped later than sooner. He was sure that no one would ever find this place without help. It had been a well kept secret for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. As dusk settled in and the cicadas sound off became almost deafening, Jonah walked to the stream, filled his cup and drank deeply. He stood and waited for the rush. When it came, he realized that his knee was no longer hurting. After twenty years of pain, the absence of pain was proof in itself. He looked at his reflection in the water of a small pool that had collected. The lines in his forehead were gone already. He walked back to his folding chair and camp table, pulled out one of the notebooks and a pencil. He began to write. He began the wait.

Mrs. Norris

Mrs. Norris was short, shorter than me, and I am only five foot four inches. She was heavy, walked, swaying side to side like a penguin. Her hair was thinning, she had a long somewhat curved nose, dark eyes, and rarely smiled. She was my fifth grade teacher. Mrs. Norris was retiring after this school year.


I liked Mrs. Norris. She was mild mannered, ruling the classroom with a fist of iron in a velvet glove. No one got away with anything really, and she was fair. I think I may have been one of her more challenging students that year, but I will never know for sure. Mrs. Norris never gave any indication that one student was more challenging or troubling than another and she taught differently than my other teachers had. She was extremely patient. I remember her careful correction of my sort of friend Tim, over his hand writing, and how she gently and firmly conditioned the students to stop leaving their seats all the time. She worked with a couple of kids to stop fidgeting all the time and helped them to learn to focus on their schoolwork. She really was amazing.

Our teachers ate lunch with us, teaching and correcting us on our manners. They went to recess with us and we played games together as a class. We would compete with other classes at times. This created a solidarity in our group that I missed in later years of school. The grade school was in one building, the high school was in an adjacent building, and the lunch room was in the high school building. Both buildings had their own gymnasium. When it was time to go to lunch, Mrs. Norris would have us all go to the rest room, wash our hands, and line up in single file. She would then lead us down the second story stairs and out of the building, down the outside steps, then down the sidewalk to the high school building, up the steps, and down the long corridor to the lunch room. Each grade and room in that grade was given a specific time for lunch. We would each take a tray, and cafeteria style, get our food handed to us by the cooks and the students working for their lunch. If a student had a financial need, they would go to the cafeteria and work in the kitchen preparing food, handing out food, and cleaning up after lunches. That student would in return get a free meal.

I was always very hungry by our lunch time of 11:30am. Although I was not a fidgeter, I did draw Mrs. Norris’s attention with my impatience. She had spoken to me several times about my rush to be first in line, my irritation with someone who did not move as quickly as I, or my refusal to take the required time on schoolwork to do a quality job. Then, she stopped speaking to me about any of these things.

We were following our daily ritual of lunch one day and I was sooooo hungry. The weather was still nice, it must have been springtime as we were not wearing jackets or dressed up in any way. Mrs. Norris was wearing sandals with low heels on them. I was first in line which often happened. She was soooooo slow at walking. I hated the fact that we had to follow her to the lunch room. This time she was even slower than usual. It seemed as if she had slowed down on purpose. I danced around, stepping forward and back, paying attention to who was out on the playground, and wondering what we were having for lunch today, when I felt a hard bump under my toes. I looked down and realized in horror that I had just stepped on the back of Mrs. Norris’s sandal, and horror of horrors, the back of her shoe had come off her foot!

Mrs. Norris did not immediately turn around. She did not immediately do anything. When she did finally turn around, she looked at me for a verrrrrry long time. Then she said, “Valora…….haste makes waste.” She then took an excruciatingly long time to reach down and slip the back of her sandal on to her foot. Then she slowly…………turned around and began the slowest walk of the entire school year to the lunch room. The other kids in my class were mad at me for how long it took to get to lunch. Our recess time was cut by a full half because of the “sandal” incident.

After the “sandal” incident, all Mrs. Norris had to say was “Valora, haste makes waste”, and I would realize what she was speaking of and concentrate on slowing down. To this day, I will start to get in a rush, things begin to go wrong, and I will remind myself that haste makes waste.

Mrs. Norris retired after my class. I still remember her with fondness. She taught me a great lesson and did so without denigrating me or nagging. She was a wonderful teacher who used the “Old School” method of teaching which is waiting for the opportunity to teach to present itself. The school lost a wonderful teacher when she retired.