Atalanta's Story Continued: Reaching Home Chapter 2
I found a copy I had saved to google at the last moment so here is chapter 2. Atalanta leaves camp with new responsibilities leading a small group to capture the fugitives. Thanks again to Ashleigh for her editing skills.
Chapter 2
“Director O’Reily suggested that we listen to what you have to say.”
The corners of my lips twitched, “I have no desire to interfere in your business, but sooner or later we’d have run into each other anyway. I’d rather it not be in the middle of the night,” I began gently, “but I have a decent idea of where your fugitives are or will be and getting any more than a couple of people in there will be a chore. Who here is familiar with this area?” I called out.
Abe had returned and was standing beside a man of similar age, the same sun weathered skin and twinkling eyes.
“You know where--,”I began and described the mesa with the ring of rocky sentinels where I camped the second night after getting off the train.
The one man with Abe whose name I hadn’t learned spoke, “I know the spot, it’s right where Stinking Creek joins the Miskatonic.”
“I assume you’re working out of Dunwich,” I continued at several affirmative nods, “that location is a couple of hours from Dunwich?”
“Pretty close,” agreed Abe, “but in this weather better figure three hours.”
“Cool, close enough for government work then,” I returned smiling and was greeted with a few knowing grins.
“And how long will it take to get there from here,” I asked Abe.
“With good luck about all day,” he replied.
“Okay,” I turned to speak to the group, “Where I think the guys you’re hunting are located will take us about that same amount of time to find and capture them as it will take y’all to find and set up camp beside Stinking Creek. The distance after we have them in custody is several hours shorter to that camp than this one is. And the distance from there to Dunwich is a lot shorter.”
“I still don’t see why we don’t all go together in one group,” the man-in-charge objected.
“There are at least four good reasons for us to do it this way,” I calmly began, “one is that smaller groups travel faster, two; fewer people make less noise, three; your group should be rested when we get there and we can relax, and four is the little matter of the research project going on at the Reservation.”
Even the man-in-charge couldn’t find any flaws in that logic but he tried. “These men are armed, dangerous, and likely to resist.”
“They are armed and were likely dangerous,” I conceded, “but right now they are cold, tired, hungry, and will most likely welcome us with open arms.” As if the matter was settled I turned and asked Abe, “Abe would you mind accompanying us on this grand
adventure?”
“Sure,” he grinned revealing a chipped tooth, “it’ll be a hoot.”
“And you,” I said to the man-in-charge, “pick out one of your men to go with us.”
Tight lipped he called out, “Drake,” and a man stepped forward a couple of inches taller than my six feet. I grinned at him; he was built like the proverbial brick outhouse; deep chest thick shoulders and neck to go with powerful arms tapering to washboard waist and compact hips. His blue eyes danced under thick brows emphasizing the broad square planes of his face. His three day stubble and carefree smile that was threatening to split his face screamed a bad-boy image used to impressing the ladies.
“—you go with them, but,” he added, “I still would like to have two agents go.”
“Huh,” I asked distracted.
“I’d rather have two agents on this trip,” he repeated.
I smiled back in control, the corners of my mouth tucked up, “Did you forget, you have two: Drake and your new deputy…me.” That declaration was followed by a shuffling of feet from some, a fit of coughing by others, and a sudden interest in gear by a few.
“Drake I’ll have a word with you,” the man-in-charge commanded leading the way into the tent. Drake let his gaze linger another second longer before following.
“Abe you eat yet?”
“Yeah, but Charley will probably have something hot,” he replied falling in beside me as we walked towards the cook tent.
“Abe,” I whispered from behind my hand, “What kind of guy is this Drake?”
“Personal or professional interest.”
Without breaking stride or turning my head, I fixed my gaze on him, “Professional.”
Chuckling he replied, “Good man, smart, tough, resilient, and keeps his mouth shut.”
The interior of the cook tent was roughly divided by a rectangular folding table; behind it was a square table holding a camp stove and covering a cooler. On one burner a coffee pot simmered. Charley manning the culinary duties resembled Abe and his companion. Half a dozen chairs were lazily placed along the table’s length.
“Charley meet Atalanta; reckon you could fix her something to eat?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” I interjected.
“Or even if it is,” Abe added explaining, “She’s gonna save us traipsing around out here freezing our tails off.”
Charley turned lifting a covered tray from which he took out a couple of biscuits with thick chunks of side meat hanging out the sides and placed them on a paper towel. “Biscuits are not fresh but the meat is. Coffee or coffee,” he said pouring the steaming liquid into a stainless cup.
“Coffee is fine,” I replied sipping the strong brew washing down the spartan meal. Between bites I asked Charley to wrap me another biscuit to eat later.
“Say that’s a good idea,” exclaimed Abe, “Make that two.”
“Three,” echoed Drake who had just come from his meeting. He spun the chair around confidently straddling the chair folding his arms over the back. “You flummoxed the boss,” a lazy grin spread across his face, “I like strong women.”
Abe froze with a meat biscuit; his hand in his pocket. Charley handed Drake his sandwich. I finished chewing, placed the uneaten portion down, raised the cup to my lips, and then deliberately tore a paper sheet from the roll dabbing my lips.
Turning to face Drake I locked gazes with him, “I can outrun, out jump, outfight, and outgun you, though you can probably piss farther. Any questions!”
His pupils grew larger; a tic jumped momentarily under his right eye with his the smile washing out. To my right Abe sputtered his coffee going down the wrong way.
Immediately the smile returned, “I’m sorry; I had that coming.”
“Just so we understand each other,” I drawled.
“Understood,” Drake repeated.
“Good,” I replied turning to Abe who was struggling to catch his breath, “Abe you all right?”
“Yeah,” he replied between coughing fits. I resumed eating.
The minutes slowly ticked by.
Draining his cup Abe rose from his chair saying, “I’ll go get the horses.”
“I’ll go with you,” Drake offered following the older man out.
When the flap had settled into place Charley noted, “Drake was out of line but he’s a pretty good guy.”
“Hum-m,” I mumbled placing my elbows on the table holding the metal cup in my hands, “A group can’t have but one leader…and I’m it.”
He was pouring coffee in a thermos and after twisting the lid tight handed it to me; “It’s for the trail and keep in mind what I said about Drake.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” I replied as I walked outside to meet my crew. I nodded approval seeing the extra supplies were divvied between the five horses. Abe handed Gray’s reins to me and I swung up into the saddle.
Looking at my companions I nodded and we walked our horses to the command tent where Tom Wilcox, the man-in-charge waited. “We should see you sometime late tomorrow and we’ll let you know when they’re in custody.”
He nodded as his eyes narrowed and cheeks hollowed. After the camp had disappeared from view I called a halt, “We’ll be following my tracks for a bit yet, do y’all mind if I drop back and make a few calls?”
“Help yourself,” Abe and Drake chorused as they passed me on either side.
“Thanks guys,” I murmured as I dug out my other phone and called the Donners. Eloise answered on the second ring, “Atalanta?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Ve haf our vays,” she replied using a butchered German accent.
I chuckled at her attempt at humor, “Just reporting in Boss.”
“Anything to report?”
“A lot of traffic out today,”—and I filled her in on the escaped prisoners and the federal manhunt.
“I know we told you we didn’t want uninvited guests snooping around but that was mainly directed at concerted efforts and not the occasional trespasser.”
“I know but the way the hand was laid out I don’t think I could have avoided them. So I took the bull by the horns.”
“That sounds about right from you,” she replied dryly and I knew she was thinking of the moose bulldogging that happened right before last Christmas. “You want me to call Mrs. Carson?”
“If you want, but give me an hour or two first if you do.”
“Okay be careful,” she warned hanging up.
My next call went to Manny, “Atalanta,” I heard his gruff voice and I knew that he knew.
“Nick called you?”
“How did you get yourself in the middle of this one?”
I knocked the ball back into his court, “You said so yourself; that the opportunities would seek me out. This one did.”
“Yeah, I guess I did, but be careful and remember…..“
“…..Murphy; what can go wrong will.”
“Yeah but don’t get cocky. How many men have you got with you?”
“There’s three of us; one’s local.”
“What’s your plan?”
I hesitated about telling him. It was a good plan but I fully expected Manny to object.
“I don’t like it; you’re taking too much risk.”
“How would you do it differently?”
“That’s not the point Atalanta you’re just—.”
“—a girl is that what you were going to say?”
“No, yeah, well yeah maybe. More importantly though you’re an amateur.”
I chuckled at his confusion, “Not anymore; haven’t you heard I’m a deputy US Marshal.”
“Touché, but this is serious business and you need to have your head screwed on straight,” Manny reprimanded.
“I hear you.”
“Call me later,” Manny growled.
My next call was to Mrs. Carson. She had been a barrel of laughs ever since my first day on campus. She had been embarrassed by a security leak that almost resulted in my kidnapping and my over-the-top campus arrival three days later.
I think I made her nervous because she viewed me as a loose cannon. She’d point to the altercations with the New Olympians and the Were Moose dignitary as evidence. My designation of Natural and odd reactions to magic hadn’t help ease her mind and taken together with no clear cut power set designation with the possible exception of being an exemplar. The exemplar and BIT classification wasn’t set in stone and I felt sure Mrs. Carson was working behind the scenes to have my labeling change.
My lips pulled tight as the image of a can of soup on an assembly had a label slapped on it as it moved along the belt receiving appropriate grades. That image was fresh when Mrs. Carson answered the phone, “Yes?”
“It’s Atalanta. I’m calling to let you know I’m with the FBI in a manhunt for the prisoners that escaped last week.”
“I suppose you didn’t have a choice.”
“Not if I’m going to keep interlopers off reservation land and that was part of the job description.”
“Yes, I know. Are you going to make it back to school on time?”
“Sure, I’ll be there Sunday evening,” I replied cheerfully smiling.
“Call me when you do. We need to talk.”
I sighed as I punched in another number, “Hello Sam,” I said with a grin. Technically I didn’t need to call Sam, but she was my campus shadow; I liked her and she cut me some slack.
“Atalanta what’s up?”
“I’ve joined a federal manhunt.”
“Cool you need any help?”
“Nah I’m good. I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”
“I appreciate that, but you be careful and call me if you need help.”
That’s why I liked Sam; she took me at face value and we were both a bit uncontrolled. But Sam had a history and experience to account for hers.
I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and if you do please comment and give Atalanta a kudo. She and I will appreciate it.