Chapter 3: The Apocalypse and Salvation
Heart ofthe Beholden.
In the Northeast Correctional Complex in Johnson County, Tennessee, Warren Wheeler had managed to toe the line while in prison making himself a model prisoner, at least to outward appearances. That his wife had divorced him while incarcerated ate at him. After completing 18 months, he was informed he would be released June 1. With the other prisoners facing release, they were moved into a prep center within the prison to ease the transition from prison life to freedom. Tuesday evening after memorial day he sat with the others watching the news. All were amazed at the story about the two kids who rebuilt a derelict car and won a street legal drag competition. Of course their mood quickly changed when they learned one teen was a transsexual and the other was her boyfriend.

Warren frowned at the girl as she spoke with the reporter. K8t Green looked strangely familiar. When the reporter closed the report, he signed off from Madison, the county seat of Boone County, West Virginia. It was at that moment Warren realized why the TG fag looked familiar. The transsexual teen was his son! Brenda and Kathan had moved in with Brenda’s mom in Madison after she divorced him... his son was a freaking faggot! The betrayal of the divorce was bad enough, to learn his faggot son had verbally dissed him was too much. It took every ounce of self control he had to keep from flipping out on the spot. The only saving grace was that with the name changes no one knew he was the fag’s father. Going to the guard he said he wasn’t feeling well and was turning in for the night. There was no way he could stay around the others as they groused about the fags with the hot car.

Warren managed to keep his cool over the next few days until he was processed for release. While the terms of his parole stated he was to have no contact with the motorcycle gang he headed straight for them. At first the leaders thought he might be a turncoat but it quickly became clear he had only one thing on his mind... revenge against his family. To get their help, Warren told them his wife fled with the money he’d earned dealing drugs. They had no problem understanding his rage about being betrayed by his wife and son. That Brenda had lied to the gang when they had approached her about gang money Warren had hidden in their home made them want revenge. But to have the gang publicly dissed by the tranny freak infuriated the entire group.

There was no lack of offers of assistance to help Warren get the revenge he deserved, especially when he told them he they could have anything they found, even the money. They could clearly see he was willing to return to jail or even die rather than let his family live.

Mosby’s Raiders, named after the Confederate Colonel John Mosby’s notorious Cavalry Battalion, was a tough, tight group of rebels. Gang members followed a few simple rules: They had to be men ages 21 and older. They had to ride American-made motorcycles. They met regularly in sessions they called "church," and they paid dues of $100 a month, to cover legal bills and funeral expenses. Most of the members had been skinheads in their teens. Over half had served in the military, seeing combat in Iraq and/or Afghanistan. The white supremacist swagger of their youth had been tempered by military discipline and fighting. They hated carpet kissers Christ killers, wetbacks, slope eyes, blacks, fags and any other subset of humanity they disliked. Nazism was their ideal. Their attitudes and bigotry alienated them from nearly everyone. The only friends they had were their like-minded buddies. Their hatred and military experience honed them into a tough group. All were swaggering bullies who found strength in numbers. The group had a reputation for being rowdy and breaking every law they could with virtual impunity. The group had coalesced around a grizzled veteran of the Pagan Motorcycle club. They were careful to avoid the urban territories of bigger cycle clubs and thus were allowed to control their rural area. Unfortunately, the gang had fallen on tough times when Warren was arrested since the drug dealing generated about 60% of the gang’s income. Several of the lesser members had been forced to get jobs!

The rumbling of their thirty two bikes as they headed for Madison made the gang feel tough and invincible. Several knew Brenda and they were sure she presented no threat. The fag son and his gay boyfriend were merely puss filled pimples meant to be popped. The gang armed themselves and headed out looking for trouble. They had three sawed off double barreled shotguns, four AK47s, two fully auto AR15s, five Tec-9s, and dozens of semi-automatic pistols.

They rumbled into Madison a bit before 10am on Thursday June 12, 2008. The rumbling of the massed motorcycles drew everyone’s attention. One look at the leather-clad tatooed long haired bearded men told everyone they were in Madison looking for trouble. Since Warren had never been to the homestead, he had no idea where to find it. With swaggering bravado he headed into the Boone County Clerk’s office to check the tax records for his ex- mother-in law Harriet Dobbins.

The clerk that waited on him was Harriet Green. Harriet recognized Warren but kept her cool and as she headed to her desk to ‘look- up’ the address, she called Dinky, Brenda and K8t.

Dinky promptly took charge, telling her to get hold of Brenda with instructions to go to the homestead and ready the weapons. As soon as he got off the phone with Harriet he called M8t and told the boy to get his ass to the garage and to be sure to bring K8t. As he waited he went to his office, pulled the worn rug off the floor and opened the hidden trap door to his basement storeroom.

By the time M8t and K8t arrived, Dinky had his weapons and ammo ready. The BAR and AR 15 were already familiar to the teens as were half a dozen M1911A1 .45s. There were also several large wooden boxes of ammunition. The real surprise was when Dinky had them help him carry a few wooden boxes into the fabrication area.

“We don’t have a lot of time so I’ll need you to do what I ask you to do without stopping to ask questions,” Dinky explained. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing as we go along but we have to move fast. Our lives depend upon our speed.”

M8t and K8t readily agreed to do whatever Dinky told them to do. The first thing he had them do was collect a dozen cast steel brake drums and a dozen rear axles from the vehicle scrap metal pile behind the shop. The duo wondered what purpose the axles and drums could possibly serve.

By the time they brought the parts inside Dinky had cleared several work benches and opened all the cartons. “M8t, put the axle shafts through the holes on that work bench,” Dinky told them. “Then put a brake drum upside down on the axle lugs. K8t, get lug nuts from the used parts bins then bolt the drums to the axles.”

As the teens followed Dinky’s directions he used a drill to make a tiny hole in each drum. “Now take one of those silver bulbs with the two wires attached. They’re igniters for model rocket engines. Slip the wires through the hole I’ve made, place a drop of epoxy in the center of the axle and push the bulb into the glue.”

By the time they had the last igniter glued in place in each of the drums Dinky was preparing the next step. “Now take this empty tuna fish can, place the hole punched in the center of the bottom over the igniter, then put a slim but continuous circle of epoxy around the outer edge of the can. That will give us a perfect three inch circle.”

As they did that Dinky cut tennis balls in half, then stuffed a five inch square piece of nylon mesh from the inner liner of upholstery in each half. “Weigh two ounces of this powder on the balance scale, then pack one batch into each half. You’ll really have to pack it in to make it fit flush. The powder is the main propellant used to reload powerful model rocket motors. The powder is safe. It will only go off if triggered by the igniter but when it is it will set off the main charge.”

As the teens measured the powder and filled a tennis ball half, Dinky took it and quickly but carefully up-ended it on an igniter just inside the circle of epoxy. Then he pressed the edge of the nylon that overlapped the outer edge of the ball into the epoxy before removing the tennis ball half. “A tennis ball is two and two thirds inches in diameter, just the right size for the ignition charge. It also just fits inside the epoxy circle.”

When he had the last trigger charge glued in place Dinky opened a carefully sealed five gallon can. “Now this stuff is hazardous. It’s ANFO, an explosive used in mining and excavations as well as bombs. I made it myself. It’s mostly ammonium nitrate fertilizer mixed with diesel fuel with a bit of powdered aluminum to increase the detonation sensitivity of the mixture. While I mound this around the inner explosive charge, you two go in the next room and use the hand sledge hammers to bust up that five gallon bucket full of bad bearings. Cover a bearing with a rag then beat the hell out of it. We need the inner ball bearings as well as the shattered pieces of the cases and races. Break the pieces into half inch or less chunks.”

M8t and K8t were relieved to leave the room as Dinky worked with the volatile ANFO. By the time they’d demolished the bearings and placed the shattered pieces and refilled the bucket, Dinky had packed carefully packed the ANFO into the brake drum so the outer ledge was almost perfectly equa-distant from the ignition charge. “Now that the ANFO is packed tight it’s fairly stable. We just have to be careful not to drop the bombs when we move them. I need you to gently place the mixture of ball bearings and steel pieces on top of the ANFO.”

The teens placed a tight packing of smashed automotive bearings to serve as shrapnel on top of the ANFO, mounding it slightly. As they did that, Dinky cut 20 gauge (.032 inch) sheet aluminum into circles that were five inches wider than the brake drums. “Use utility knives to carefully score the round sheets into half inch squares. As they finished the first Dinky shaped it over the shrapnel and down the sides of the brake drum. Each aluminum cover was secured in place by interconnected hose clamps around the outside diameter of the drums.

“What we have here are home-made Claymore mines,” Dinky chuckled as he secured the covers in place. “ When we place them, the protruding axle shaft will serve as a brace to keep the explosion from thrusting the device back or out of alignment. When detonated, the shrapnel will explode outward with deadly effect. Each should have a kill range of sixty degrees to the front of placement and a lethal range of about a hundred feet. These home-made Claymores will be quite lethal.”

With that they carefully removed each assembly from the work bench and gently placed and padded each on the floor of three wrecked but still derivable cars Dinky was intending to repair. The weapons and ammo were quickly loaded in the lead vehicle. Two gallons of gasoline were put into eighteen 5 gallon metal buckets with fold down tab lids. Six were placed into each vehicle. Dinky and the teens put a web belt with holster about their waists. A loaded .45 pistol was in each holster and three two clip magazine pouches were on the belt. With Dinky in the lead, K8t and M8t followed as they made the short drive to the homestead.

They drove into the valley and stopped at a narrow section of the lane about 350 feet from the house, about fifty feet from where the valley split into three. It was only at that point, a mile in from the road, that the actual homestead became visible. They could see Brenda had arrived home. At that point the lane was fifteen feet wide. The rocky 45 degree north slope of the mountain ridge came right down to the lane at that point making it almost impossible for even motorcycles to traverse. Dinky had M8t drive his car uphill the fifteen degree slope into the trees on the south side of the lane where the orchard was located. He stopped where the slope changed to about thirty degrees which left the front end fifty feet away from the lane. K8t drove her car up the slope behind M8t stopping five feet behind the first vehicle. That left the back of her car five feet from the lane. They left the driver’s doors open facing the house. Next they placed one 5 gallon bucket with the lid loosely on top on the front seat by the steering wheel. Dinky had them gather as much brush as they could to fill the area between the cars as well as about fifteen feet in front of the first vehicle. A 5 gallon bucket with the lid loose was placed atop the brush piled between the cars and two were placed atop the brush in front of the first car. Taking 16 gauge mechanic’s wire (just a smidgin under 1/16 inch), the teens wrapped three strands at about 32 inches, 38 inches, and 44 inches above the ground from tree to tree starting at the end of the end brush pile and running in a semi circle up the hill through the orchard for two hundred feet at which point the slope changed to fully wooded at a rocky 45 decree incline. The triple strand wires would effectively cut off any cycles that might try to escape by that route. Except for two 5 gallon buckets, the rest of the buckets were placed in front of trees facing the house every fifteen feet apart along the wire garrote line.

As the teens did that, Dinky carefully positioned the third vehicle up the hill on the south side beside but at a slight angle to the second car. Putting it in neutral he allowed the car to drift downhill. It crossed the lane stopping when it bumped into a tree by the north side. The vehicle completely blocked the lane. The space between it’s front end and the back of car K8t had driven was only two feet. After pulling the car back onto the hill, with a piece of nylon clothes line he tied one end around the base of a tree with the other end around the front bumper. Sitting inside the car he stepped on the brake and shifted the car into neutral. Slowly easing off the brake he allowed the car to drift back letting the weight of the car stretch the nylon rope until it was taut. Then he coated the rope with diesel fuel and placed a 5 gallon bucket at the base of the tree the rope was tied. A second 5 gallon bucket was placed on the front passenger seat so when the car rolled, it would tip onto the floor spilling the fuel.

Dinky then surveyed the 5 gallon buckets to make sure all would be clearly visible from the second floor of the house. M8t ran to the barn and brought back the Cub Cadet tractor with the wagon. With Dinky’s guidance they loaded the home-made claymores and slowly drove them to the house. Harriet arrived home at that point so they loaded the weapons and munitions in her car and headed to the house. Brenda simply nodded her head and passed out cold cokes. The teens then helped Dinky place the home-made Claymores by running the trigger wires back to the house being sure to cover the wires with dirt. Dinky anchored and camouflaged each device. Each set of wires was labeled with it’s location. To set off a Claymore, the two ends of a wire had to be touched to the terminals of a 12 volt car battery. The east and southern walls of the barn, located northeast of the house, were visible from the house. A claymore was placed facing the north side of the barn and another facing the east side to take out anyone who took cover there. Another was set up facing the back of the chicken coop which was located west of the barn. One Claymore was set up opposite each exterior wall aimed to take out anyone who reached the exterior of the house. The first floor of the house consisted of two large rooms, a sitting room in front and the kitchen in the back. The stairway was between the two rooms. Two claymores wired as one were placed in each room. Each was set up so the axle was wedged into the corner formed by the outside wall and the inside wall and aimed at the doors and windows in case anyone gained entrance. The entire room would be a killing floor. With the first floor secured, they headed to the second floor. Dressers were pulled over to block the stairwell and the last claymore set beneath them aimed down the staircase just in case. The weapons were readied and placed by the windows. Dinky filled six 20 round clips with tracer rounds for the BAR. They would ignite the gas in the 5 gallon buckets when punctured. Dinky, M8t and K8t were expert marksmen with the BAR out to 1500 yards. The farthest gas can was 600 yards. It had taken them 90 minutes to set up the ambush.

As they waited Harriet fumed as she related how frustrating it had been to speak to the sheriff about the safety of her family. Her concerns had simply been blown off as there had been no threats or previous violence besides which the sheriff was not eager to confront the gang. Dinky just nodded his head adding he’d assumed that would be the sheriff’s response.

After Warren left the records office, Mosby’s Raiders wanted to make sure the entire family would be home so they headed to a bar for some liquid courage. They spent the next several hours drinking and chowing down on chilidogs.

The bar owner and staff were nervous serving the bikers but other than course language and obnoxious behavior Mosby’s Raiders never crossed the line that would summon the sheriff. The regulars who frequented the bar stayed away when they saw the 32 motorcycles. Everyone was on edge waiting for something nasty to happen. Finally at 6:00pm, Warren called Brenda to make sure everyone was home.

Back at the homestead Brenda’s cell phone rang. Everyone exchanged looks of anxiety as she answered it.

“Hello babe,” Warren spoke cooly. “I’ve just been released and I’d like to speak to you and Kathan.”

Brenda put a shushing finger to her mouth before switching the phone to speaker. “I’m glad you’ve been released but we have nothing to discuss. Kathan and I have moved on with our lives and you are no longer a part of it.”

“Oh babe, that’s harsh,” Warren replied. “Look, I know what I did was wrong but I’ve paid my debt. Even the court says I’ve been rehabilitated. All I’m asking is for a chance. Just let me talk to you and Kathan face to face.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Brenda replied. “If you are rehabilitated, get on with your life just like we have.”

“Look, I know you’re still pissed at me and I can’t blame you,” Warren sighed heavily. “ I don’t like to think I’ve lost you but I know I can’t force you to give me another chance. I don’t like it but I’m man enough to accept it. But Kathan IS my son as much as he is your’s. At least let me talk to him. He is with you, isn’t he?”

Dinky nodded his head and pointed to M8t since due to the hormones K8t’s voice was no longer passable as masculine.

“Hang on a moment while I get him,” Brenda said as she put the phone on hold. “K8t, you’ll have to whisper responses to M8t.” After everyone nodded their agreement, Brenda switched the phone back to speaker.

“What do YOU want,” M8t curtly declared.

“Son, I just want to talk to you,” Warren said as he frowned. The voice was not the one he’d heard on the newscast. Quickly he assumed it must be the faggot boyfriend. That meant they were at the homestead. “After all, I am your dad.”

“I lost my dad when you went to jail,” M8t replied as K8t’s response. “Mom and I are doing just fine without you. We don’t need you nor do we want anything to do with you. Just leave us alone.”

“That’s hard, son,” Warren growled as he began to lose his cool. “I’ll give you some time to think before I call you again.” With that he hung up. Looking at his fellow gang members he nodded. “Let’s go get the bastards.”

In moments thirty two motorcycles roared to life and headed north on SR85. The sheriff and deputies who had been keeping a wary eye on the gang breathed a sigh of relief to see them ride out of town without causing any trouble. The bar owner and staff were also greatly relieved to see the gang depart. The sheriff smugly thought Harriet had worried about nothing. Nodding to the deputy on duty, the sheriff headed home for the night.

Eight minutes after leaving the bar the cycles roared into the Exxon station on the opposite side of the road leading into the homestead. All the guys topped off their tanks just in case they had to make a quick getaway. The clerk in the station was nervous to see the leather clad bearded and tatooed cyclists all around. The customers that were inside quickly left to get away. The gang swaggered even more arrogantly that their mere appearance had terrified the backwoods hicks.

The beer they had consumed had yet to take full effect. So far it had only increased their desire for mayhem while dulling their caution. The reaction of the locals reinforced their smug sense of toughness. When all were ready, they roared across the interstate in a stampede of rumbling steel horses heading up White House Road to meet their destiny.

Inside the stone farmhouse the deep throated roar of the powerful motorcycles grew louder as the rumbling reverberated throughout the small valley. They all understood the time of confrontation was at hand. They anxiously double checked their weapons.

They looked at K8t as she began to giggle nervously. “I just realized, today is Friday the thirteenth!”

Brenda, Harriet and M8t gasped at the implication as Dinky chuckled. “We’re ready for them. The bad luck is all theirs.”

It was 6:40pm when they roared past the wrecked cars into the branching head of the valley. The sun was setting and the angle of the sun as it related to the surrounding mountain ridges meant the bottom of the valley was already shaded. The old stone farmhouse was still sunlit since it stood on the gentle slope facing west. A few headed up the north and south valleys a short distance while the rest pulled up in front of the house.

“We know you’re in there,” Warren shouted. “We’re here to get what you stole from us and to teach the faggot that was my son and his friggin boyfriend a lesson. Make it easy on yourselves and just come on out.”

“You can all go to hell,” Brenda yelled out as she appeared in a second floor window.

“I’ll send you to hell first you damn bitch,” Warren snarled as he pulled a 9mm Glock to point at the window.

“Like hell you will,” K8t yelled as she appeared at another window with the Kentucky rifle pointed at her dad. “You just get on your cycles and get the hell out of here.”

The Kentucky rifle had the desired effect of making the bikers think they were just hillbillies with single shot rifles and would be no match for them.

“So the freakin fag has some balls left,” Warren laughed as the rest of the gang drew their weapons. “Don’t worry, SON, we’ll all fuck you and your boyfriend before we kill you!”

Three of the gang rushed for the house. M8t poked his head out another window with the AR 15 aimed at the running men. “Stop now or I’ll shoot.”

Things went to hell quickly. Warren snapped a shot at M8t and K8t fired at her dad. Warren’s shot was wide hitting the house about two feet from the window. K8t was a bit nervous and her shot went through the leather vest Warren wore to strike his cycle. The impact of the.48 caliber slug knocked the big Harley over severely crumbling the air intake. M8t fired a burst into the ground in front of the three men causing them to skid to a stop.

Harriet was stationed behind the barricade at the head of the stairs to keep an eye out for intruders as well as to man the claymore wires. As soon as the shooting began she called 911 to report the attack. The operator came on as all hell broke loose as the gang opened up on the house. Harriet yelled into the phone to give her address and report they were under attack by the motorcycle gang just as she had predicted to the sheriff. She placed the phone on the floor with the connection open as she took up a colt .45 to keep a wary eye out for anyone trying to come up the steps. Brenda kept watch on the barn from the back of the second floor and kept a first aid kit near at hand.

The three men raced to the base of the house as others came in from different directions. Staying back from the window Dinky fired a short burst from the BAR at the 5 gallon bucket at the base of the tree with the rope holding the car in place. The bucket jumped under the impact of the first bullet. One of the following tracer rounds ignited the gas as the area in front tree erupted in flames. In less then 15 seconds the taut rope melted and snapped. The car rolled off the slope as planned, hitting the tree on the opposite side of the lane closing off the lane. Another quick burst set off the bucket on the front seat and the car was quickly engulfed in flames.

Several of the gang saw the flames engulfing the car and realized the road out was blocked.

Dinky wasted little time as he fired of tracer bursts to set off the gas buckets in the other cars and atop the brush piles.

Moseby’s Raiders realized they’d rumbled into a trap. Angry and scared, they opened up on the house with everything they had. Using a mirror on a stick, M8t peeked at the side of the house where two other guys had joined the first three. They were preparing to climb in a window.

“Trigger south one,” M8t yelled over the fusillade. “Trigger south one.”

Harriet picked up the two wires labeled south one and touched them to the terminal posts of the car battery. A loud explosion went off forty feet away from the south side of the house. The shrapnel blast from the Claymore took out the five gang members up against the exterior wall of the house. The rest of the gang was clearly stunned. M8t with the AR 15, K8t with the Mauser, and Dinky with the Winchester took advantage of the lull to open up on the remaining gang members. Six were hit before the return fire resumed. Several hopped on their cycles and tried to flee. Three trying the north slope didn’t get far before the terrain stopped them. On the south slope eight roared up the slope to get around the burning cars.

Dinky switched back to the BAR and using tracer bursts began setting off the gas buckets in front of the trees. One gang member was caught in a fiery spray of gas screaming in agonizing pain as the burning fuel toasted his face and thankfully his lungs so he didn’t suffer too long. Two others were garroted by the wire. The exploding gas buckets and terror turned back the remaining five.

With so many of their gang members already out of the fight, the alcohol fueled bravado of the remainder began to falter. However, fear and anger kept them firing at the house. The three who tried to flee up the north slope took cover at the north side of the barn. They could cover the north and east sides of the house. Two others, one with an AR15, hid behind the chicken coop where they faced the north side of the house. Confident there were no more claymores, three made it to the south side of the house where they stood by the bloody shattered remains of their buddies. They gingerly retrieved the three sawed off double barrel shotguns the fallen had carried. Sheltered behind his fallen Harley, Warren took an AK 47 and several clips from one of the fallen and began sniping at the windows. Two other gang members also with AK47s did the same so that between them the south, east, and north sides of the house were covered. The five who turned back from the southern slope moved into the eastern ravine to circle behind the house. Three took shelter behind trees on the north side of the center east valley so they covered the south and east walls of the house, one armed with an AR15. The other two headed to the safety of the east side of the barn where they could cover the east side of the house. The remaining two lay cowering behind their Harleys wishing only to be someplace else. A slow but steady rate of fire kept the occupants of the house away from the windows.

Meanwhile the 911 operator was in a panic. She got the attention of the other dispatchers and staff as they all listened to the continuing gun battle with disbelief. Another dispatcher took a call from the clerk at the Exxon station who reported a large gang of motorcyclists had headed up White House Road. Shortly after they disappeared from sight the sound of gunfire began and columns of black smoke soared into the sky. A deputy sent to the Exxon station and turn-off to White House Road reported the continuing sound of gunfire coming down the valley as well as several columns of black smoke. The sheriff was roused from his diner table and the State Police alerted to the emergency. The sheriff realized Harriet had been correct about what was going down and quickly declared the gun battle was not a hoax and SWAT teams in the surrounding area were alerted.

As the battle continued the three men on the south side of the house began to climb through a shattered window into the living room. Despite their best efforts the amount of shattered debris in the house made it impossible for them to enter silently. Harriet heard the noise and summoned Dinky. He quickly verified some had made it into the house. Whistling to get the attention of Brenda, M8t and K8t, Dinky indicated they were about to detonate a charge downstairs. They all laid down by an exterior wall and pulled a quilt over themselves before Dinky nodded to Harriet who touched the wires to the battery to blow the claymores in the livingroom.

The entire house shook. Bullet weakened plaster crashed from the walls and ceilings landing atop the defenders in a choking cloud of dust. The heavy wooden front door blew right off as debris, smoke and dust from the explosion blew from every window on the first floor. The two who had made it inside were nearly cut in half. The third man had one leg over the window sill and was preparing to pull himself in. The force of the explosion blew most of him back outside. The leg that had been inside stayed there. All three were killed instantly.

The defenders were hacking and coughing as they shoved the debris off themselves. Other than scratches and bruises, they were unharmed. Once more the explosion startled the stunned gang into a brief firing lull. Then the firing resumed as the surviving gang members became furious. This was supposed to be a cake walk, not a hellacious battle. Dinky headed over to Harriet who being at the top of the stairs had taken the worst of the explosion. While unhurt, she was clearly stunned and momentarily deafened. Once assuring himself she was okay, Dinky set off the claymores covering the chicken coop and the north and east sides of the barn.

The almost successive triple explosions staggered the surviving gang members. Seven more of their buds had been blown to hell. All their bravado was blown away. How could two teenage faggots, a middle aged mother and a grandmother fight like demons? What the hell kind of family were they to be able to wreak such devastation?

Meanwhile more deputies had arrived at the Exxon station. US 119 had been shutdown and the sheriffs cars lined up blocking egress from White House Road as they nervously waited the arrival of the swat teams. The horrific explosions terrified the deputies as they wondered what the hell was happening up that narrow valley. They all knew Harriet, K8t and M8t. Most knew Brenda. Knowing how close Dinky Dow was to the teens one deputy wondered why the grizzled vet hadn’t shown up? The noise of the battle would be easily heard at his garage. Suddenly the deputy understood... Harriet had warned the sheriff of the danger... surely she’d told Dinky. Getting on his radio the deputy broke into the ongoing discussion of what was happening.

“It’s Dinky Dow,” he declared after identifying himself. “He’s holed up in there with the Greens. M8t and K8t are the toughest kids I ever saw. Dinky was a Marine expert marksman and instructor. He taught the kids to shoot. They bag their limit in deer every season. That bastard helped hold off over 20,000 NVA at Khe Sanh. He KNOWS how to defend a position and exact high casualties. I almost feel sorry for those guys who went in there.”

The sentiment the deputy voiced was quickly assumed by those who knew Dinky and the Greens. The duration of the battle indicated the ferocity. The swat teams scrambled.

M8t, K8t, and Dinky stood by windows cautiously peering out to the south, west and north. M8t spotted movement behind the trees on the slope of the center valley. Taking careful aim he fired at one guy who kept peeking out. As bullets ripped into his shoulder he screamed and rolled away downslope clutching his shattered arm. Seeing their buddy hit, the remaining two broke and ran. M8t calmly tracked them and cut them down as they fled.

Warren couldn’t see the shooter but knew which window the shots were coming from. Opening fire he bracketed the window with a full burst. Splinters flying made M8t duck away. However, K8t saw the her dad shooting at her boyfriend. Staying inside the window she swung the Mauser into position and lined the downed Harley in the cross hairs of the scope. As soon as the man’s head rose above the saddle, she squeezed the trigger. As she did so the realization she was aiming to kill her father caused a momentary flinch which was enough to miss. Instead of hitting her dad in the head with a kill shot, she hit the fuel tank just two inches away. The tank ruptured under the impact spewing gas into Warren’s face, flooding his mouth, nose and eyes.

While the gas did not ignite, he was in agony and blinded as the volatile liquid burned his eyes, nose and throat. In a panic of pain and fear, Warren scrabbled at his eyes and nose as he screamed in pain. In his agonized throes, he rolled into the open. K8t calmly took careful aim and sent a bullet into his hip. Warren screamed and rolled again.

“What do you think of your so-called faggot son now, Daddy dearest,” K8t yelled out the window. “I could have easily killed you outright, you bastard. But that would be too easy on you! No, daddy, I won’t kill you. I want you to rot in jail knowing I put you there!”

Warren could hardly believe what he was hearing. Furious he stopped rolling, sat up and faced the voice. “You son-of-a bitch! Just fucking kill me! With that he pulled his Glock and began firing wildly at the house.

K8t took careful aim and fired, hitting Warren in the shoulder. The impact threw him back several feet and the pistol flew from his grasp. “You won’t get away that easy, DADDY,” she sang out.

Seeing the ever increasing carnage the two who had been sniping from the Harleys took off running for the north slope. Dinky but a burst from the BAR across their path causing them to drop to the ground in terror. “If you want to live, you better stand up slowly and put your hands on top of your head,” he called out.

As the defeated men complied he ordered them to walk slowly to the front of the house and sit in the yard twenty feet in front of the house. As they came in the two who had been hiding called out declaring their intent to surrender. In a few minutes they had joined the other two. What would become known as the Battle of the Transsexual versus the Bikers was over. Harriet’s phone was buried in the debris but still sending out a signal. Brenda opened her phone and dialed 911. When she got a dispatcher she identified herself and reported the fighting was over. There were heavy casualties amongst the bikers while four had surrendered.

By that time the sheriff had arrived on the scene. The silence indicated the fighting was over so he gave the order for his men to cautiously move forward on foot. When they arrived at the smoldering wrecked cars they could see the desolation spread around the homestead. They could see the four men sitting in the yard with their hands atop their head. Slowly they made their way past the wrecks to begin checking the bodies. The carnage was almost unimaginable. They called for the paramedics and ambulances.

Holding the BAR, Dinky stood in a window looking down on the scene until the deputies reached the defeated foursome. As deputies handcuffed the four demoralized bikers, others were doing triage on the wounded. By the time the SWAT team arrived all that was left was for them to mop up the ordinance. Dinky had already disarmed and picked up the remaining six homemade claymores. The six that were used took out fifteen bikers. Of the six hit in the opening exchange, three were killed on impact while two others bled out. Only one survived but he was unconscious. One was burned to death by the exploding gas cans, two had been killed by the wire stretched between the trees. Of the three on the slope, the man M8t hit in the shoulder was alive as was one of the two who fled. The third died of his wounds. Though badly wounded, Warren was still alive. Of the thirty two gang members who entered the valley, only eight survived. The lawmen found it difficult to believe that two teens, the mother of one and her mother along with the grizzled vet had been such an effective fighting force without suffering any significant injuries. Of course the battered demoralized remnants of Moseby’s Raiders felt the same way.

The medics were preparing to move Warren out when, hand in hand, K8t and M8t came over to see him. “Daddy, I’m sorry it came to this but you brought it on yourself. I’m not gay. I’m transsexual. I’ve always been transsexual. That’s why I never could get into sports, I was a girl but didn’t realize it. Now I do. My boy bits are just a birth defect that will be corrected when I turn 18. I’d also like you to meet my boyfriend, M8t. Once I’m a complete woman, I’ll be his wife.”

“Fucking fags,” Warren growled through pain gritted teeth as the medics strapped him to the gurney. “Get me the hell away from them!”

As the ambulance drove away, K8t’s bravado dissipated as tears flowed down her cheeks. M8t took her in his arms and let her cry into his shoulder. Brenda, Harriet and even Dinky joined them in a group hug. Even Dinky had tears in his eyes.

For the next three hours the defenders were questioned at length about the battle and their rapid preparations to put the cycle gang off their game and simultaneously ensnare them. It was clear that with his combat experience Dinky organized the defense. It was also clear the teens were right there with him in setting the ambush and fending off the attack. One of the investigators asked why they decided to entrap the bikers rather than just allow them to flee once they knew what they were up against.

“You’re a cop,” Dinky quite simply declared. “They are no different than the VC or NVA I faced in ‘Nam. If we just drove them off they’d strike again when we weren’t prepared. When facing people who are out for blood there is only one way to deal with them... take them out in one fell swoop. Otherwise they just keep coming back for more. Well, they came here looking for trouble so we felt it would be impolite to deny them that joy. K8t’s dad was pissed that she’s a transsexual because it made him look bad to the rest of the gang. They intended to kill the entire family after they raped and tortured them. They fired the first shot so we took the bastards out.”

The homestead was now a crime scene. The house was uninhabitable, the barn riddled and the chicken coop virtually destroyed. The fires had done some damage to the orchard. It was well past nightfall when Dinky and the Greens were released from the intense questioning. Dinky offered the family the shelter of his place until something more suitable could be arranged. They gathered a few clothes, quilts and pillows and headed out. Dinky let Brenda and Harriet have his bedroom while he, M8t and K8t sacked out on the livingroom floor. That night as they settled down inside a double sleeping bag K8t cuddled as close to M8t as she could. Together they consoled each other and kept the demons of the battle at bay. Mental and physical exhaustion helped them drop off to sleep.

The next morning the family and Dinky returned to the homestead. They heard two of the state police investigators talking about how the Battle of the Transsexual versus the Bikers would become infamous. Once more questions were asked and answers given. The investigators were still mystified not only by how quickly the defense had been planned and set up but also by how well M8t and K8t had handled themselves in the thick of the battle. That Dinky had planned the defense and tutored the teens to be expert marksmen were the only parts that made sense.
Harriet was near tears as she saw the devastation of the homestead. The chicken coop was an outright total loss. The barn was repairable but the walls on the north and east sides needed extensive repairs. The heavy timber frame was still intact as was the roof. The house was a disaster. The bullets and explosions had destroyed the integrity of the horse-hair plaster on the lath boards. The floors were damaged, those on the second floor could be repaired but the first floor front would need to be replaced. All utilities had been damaged. Even the old cast iron stove had been badly dinged. The white-washed exterior walls where pock marked with bullet holes. Most of the window frames were damaged and all the windows destroyed. The entire house would need to be rebuilt. That wasn’t even considering the ruined furniture. They headed back to Dinky’s about 3:00pm, passing through a gauntlet of reporters and cameras.

The media was allowed in once the crime scene had been thoroughly investigated and the flow of the battle reconstructed. The burned out cars that formed the road block were still in place as was the wire garrote in the orchard. The large burned areas in the orchard and the associated bullet riddled fire blackened 5 gallon buckets in each gave ample evidence to the entrapment. The bullet riddled cycles lying on their sides in a semi-circle around the front of the house revealed the scope of the motorcycle gang’s incursion. The pockmarked stone walls of the farmhouse with the blown out windows, the blood splatters on the south wall, both inside and out chilled the reporters. The devastated house was matched by the shattered chicken coop and the peppered siding of the barn. The battle showed tremendous ferocity from both sides. The local TV news stations showed footage of the ravaged battle scene: the shot up motorcycles, the damage to the house and outbuildings, and the fire scarred orchard and burnt out cars that had trapped the gang.

Saturday after returning to the garage Harriet and Brenda and K8t gave Dinky’s small trailer a thorough cleaning. While it had not been trashy, Dinky was a grizzled vet and lived accordingly. While the girls worked, M8t handled the customers while Dinky made arrangements for a larger mobile home, used of course, to be delivered to his place for the Green family to use.

But the most amazing thing was the number of locals who stopped by the garage. Most were stunned by the ferocity and destruction of the battle. They were awed that K8t and M8t had been heavily involved in the firefight. That Dinky had engineered the defense in mere hours only solidified his reputation as a man with whom to never trifle. All the visitors praised their courage. Quite a few apologized for the way they had previously denigrated K8t and M8t. Most asked if there was anything they could do to help the now homeless family.

K8t and M8t talked with all who came by. They spoke softly and without any sense of righteousness. Without speaking directly to the matter they made it clear they were not proud of what they had done but at the same time showed they did what had to be done.

Since it was still too early to accept the offers of help, Harriet made note of those who offered with a promise to let everyone know what help might be needed.

An hour before sunset, a used 12' x 62' two bedroom manufactured home was delivered by Clayton Homes, a Modular and manufactured home dealer about ten miles south of Madison on US Route 119. It was quickly set up and hooked to Dinky’s on site water and sewer systems. The company had even roused the Boone County zoning board to get a six month emergency permit for the temporary set up. Appalachian Power and a local electric contractor hooked up power.

Late that evening as they settled down K8t found she had a hit on the internet news monitor she had set up for Krista Scott. The spunky girl had driven a rebuilt WWII DUKW through the town of St. Michaels, Md. and then piloted it around the peninsula to the Clan Wells Point holdings. The wedding of her uncle to a post op TG had been a part of the 17th Annual Antique and Classic Boat Festival. Once more K8t and M8t were envious of the spunky younger TG teen. At least they now knew they were brave enough to stand up against armed bullies. K8t contacted Krista on the Clan Wells Point Facebook page.

It was only when the lights were turned off for the night that the nightmares of the fierce battle surfaced. The adrenalin juiced duo had held managed to keep themselves together during and just after the fight. But now the adrenalin was gone and they felt the weariness of their trying ordeal smother them. In the smaller bedroom M8t and K8t cuddled together inside the sleeping bag. Both shivered and sniffled as tears flowed freely from their closed eyes. Their unyielding love had gotten them through the long months of being ostracized, now it was helping them cope with their new nightmares. The bond they had already forged had been re-forged by fire and the threat of death and torture. The ordeal made them stronger and more sincere. Neither could even begin to think of life without the other.

During the next week more investigators arrived as they sought to place blame for the one-sided battle. Dinky had all the appropriate licences for the weapons he used. The only iffy item was the homemade claymores but Dinky showed them he could cobble together a claymore-like bomb from the used automotive parts he had sitting around his garage. Yet every one came to the same conclusions, Dinky was resourceful and had trained M8t and K8t in marksmanship. The bikers attacked what they thought was easy prey but had been decimated. They started the confrontation and their weapons clearly proved they wanted blood. They got plenty, but it was theirs instead of their supposed victims.

Gr8 Green returned to servicing their customers on Monday. The now inseparable humble duo was polite, courteous and efficient as they worked. The deep throated powerful rumbling 58TPC towing the trailer was instantly recognized. They had to beg off conversations with well wishers and the curious so they could keep their scheduled appointments. Now when they held hands and kissed in public there was much less tongue clicking and the disgusted glares at their closeness greatly diminished. The notoriety of the battle had given them celebrity status and the often accompanying exemption from normal behavioral expectations.

The insurance adjusters were stunned by the damage to the old Dobbin’s place. The police reports of the fight eliminated any efforts to deny the claim as self inflicted. By the end of the second week after the battle, Harriet had a sizeable check. The following weekend volunteer crews arrived for a two day blitz. The debris outside the house was cleared up. Inside the house all the shattered horsehair plaster remaining on the lathe boards was torn out. Those with carpentry skills formed construction crews to rebuild the barn and a new chicken coop. When the contractor and his crew arrived the following Monday, the place had been cleaned up so they could get to work.

The exterior of the house was stuccoed to cover the hundreds of bullet and shrapnel damaged spots. The house was large, 25' wide and 35' deep. The two first floor rooms were15' deep and 25' wide with a 5' center section between the two for the stairs to the basement and second floor. The inside of the stone walls was framed, new electric, phone, cable and internet lines ran, and insulated before being covered with drywall. A 20' by 35' addition was added to the north side. The first floor of the addition contained a new modern kitchen with large seating area. A powder room, a shower room, and a laundry room were built against the inside of the east wall of the old kitchen. The remainder of the room was a wide hall with deep storage shelves and closets on both sides. The front room was updated to provide a modern living room with a Franklin stove installed into the southern exterior wall by the central stairs. A new coal furnace was installed in the basement and duct work for the forced air HVAC system ran up to the second floor through the stairwell walls. The furnace shared the chimney of the fireplace. A heat pump on the outside by the chimney would supply much of the heat and all the cooling the home needed.

The second floor had been three small bedrooms and a small shared bathroom. The area above the living room was opened into a large single bedroom as was the space above what had been the kitchen. Each of these had small Franklin Stoves installed on the southern side that also shared the chimney. The second floor of the addition held two bedrooms and three bathrooms. Each of the large bedrooms also had an attached bathroom located on the second floor of the addition. Two slightly smaller bedrooms with a shared bath completed the layout of the second floor of the addition. The remodel and upgrade was done by the end of July.

While the work was being done K8t and M8t repaired the damage and tended the large vegetable garden as well as the orchard. They still assisted Dinky and the farmer as well as tended to their customers. When the remodel was completed the large front bedroom of the house was occupied by K8t and M8t. Outside of the immediate family, no one knew K8t and M8t were still sharing a bedroom and bathroom. Both suffered PTSD from the battle and the only thing that enabled them to stay on an even keel was their mutual love. In their home, the duo was nearly inseparable. They sat with arms about each other and held hands the rest of the time.

No one was surprised when Dinky asked Harriet to marry him on the 4th of July. They decided on a small family only wedding under the trees of the homestead on the first weekend of August.
The Greens were delighted when Dinky insisted Harriet remain being a Green and that he would adopt his wife’s surname! When the home was completed the large rear bedroom would be for Harriet and Dinky. Harriet was quite satisfied with Dinky as her man and he was quite satisfied with her as his woman. The dour countenance that had been Dinky’s normal was replaced by a near constant smile. The love and mutual devotion the family felt for each other was undeniable.

Krista had replied to K8t’s Facebook contact and they began a daily correspondence. Krista, a pre-op transsexual had faced death and torture at the hands of her boyfriend’s bigoted hate filled father before killing him in a desperate finale to her kidnaping. K8t had faced similar at the hands of her father. Both felt better after sharing their mutual battle experience.

Arrangements were made for the second weekend in August for a weekend visit to Krista and the Clan Wells Point. Friday at 10:00am Brenda, Harriet, Dinky, K8t and M8t loaded up the 58 TPC. M8t and K8t switched off driving every hour during the 460 mile 8 hour trip. The trip took 10 hours with stops for refueling and breaks. It was 8:00pm when they turned into Wells Point Lane. Krista and gang were waiting at the CWP Store and Bakery. After enthusiastic greetings and hugs, as well as a lot of drooling over the 58TPC, they headed up the lanes to the Clan Wells Point B&B where they’d be staying.

Krista took the Greens out on the Chesapeake in the DUKW which brought fond memories back for Dinky who had ridden in them back in ‘Nam. The fact that Kylie was a post op transsexual, married to Krista’s uncle DJ, and the mother of adopted twins made K8t hope for a similar future. The other members of the Clan Wells Point made the Greens feel like old friends.

At the end of the weekend the Greens returned home having made lifelong friends with the Clan Wells Point. They were giving a great deal of thought to the offer the CWP made to have them move and join the clan. Dinky would easily fit in to the CWP Engine & Mechanical Repair and Brenda CWP Youth Rehab Hostel. Harriet would fit in the CWP, LLC. M8t and K8t would fit into CWP Organic Farm.

Returning to Madison was getting back to reality. The Gr8 Green customers were happy to have M8t and K8t back. As everyone prepared for the start of the school year, the dynamics of the student body began to coalesce. The duo were entering their junior year and most of their schoolmates had grown accustomed to seeing K8t as a girl and M8t as her boyfriend. About 25 percent accepted M8t and K8t as a couple and openly spoke to them. About 50 percent tolerated the transsexual couple with a live and let live attitude. But not everyone was so accepting. About 25 percent of the students still looked down on the duo. About half of the haters were fundamentalist Christians while the rest were bigoted rednecks. Both groups detested gays and transsexuals since they quite obviously were perverted deviants. The savage fight with the motorcycle gang was used as an example of why having such degenerates in the community was dangerous.

The school was aware of the situation and made it clear in mailings that while everyone was entitled to their own opinion, bullying would not be tolerated. The major complication was that K8t had responded quite well to HRT. Her curves were decidedly girlish. Anyone not knowing her would think she was a genetic female. As such, it was no longer possible for her to use the boy’s team facilities with M8t for phys-ed. As a result M8t was placed back into the general boys lockerroom. A few of the haters didn’t want a fag sharing the changing area but were not given any other option. K8t was moved to the girls team lockerroom. Access into the team area was limited to a door by the office of the girl’s phys-ed teacher.

While the Greens were discussing their concerns and the issues K8t and M8t would face upon returning to school for their junior year, Dinky made a suggestion that since the duo were self-motivated and had maintained a 4.0 average in past years, the entire issue of returning to school could be mate moot by switching to home schooling. Harriet, Brenda, M8t and K8t sat their dumbfounded for a few moments at the simplicity of Dinky’s suggestion.

Finding a good home school program was easy. When the school board was approached by the Greens about switching to home schooling, their relief was quite palpable. In fact, they leapt at the opportunity to keep K8t and M8t out of the school and approved the duo for home schooling.

Being motivated and driven, the couple eagerly plunged into their lessons. Since public schools normally teach to the lowest common denominator, K8t and M8t were far from typical high school students and had never been really challenged. In fact they’d found most classes boring. In the home school curriculum, they could move at their own pace. They flew through the lessons while maintaining their 4.0 average. While zipping through the home school courses their G8t Green business thrived and they continued working for Dinky and the farmer.

K8t and M8t didn’t miss the petty squabbles and constant jockeying for position in the school pecking order. Their experience in the Battle of the Transsexual versus the bikers had forced them from the normal concerns of teenagers. They had been attacked and shot at. They’d also shot back and had killed bikers. The sobering experience swept away the petty concerns normal high schoolers experience and fixate upon.

K8t’s feminine development posed a delicate situation. They guiltily recalled Brenda’s warning that their closeness would create sexual desires that would be ever more increasingly difficult to resist. Their brash response that they would remain chaste until K8t’s SRS was proving quite difficult to keep. K8t’s curves drew M8t like a moth to a flame. After all, he was strictly hetero and she looked good! His propensity for erections was ample proof of his desire for her. There was no doubt that for her part the blockers and female hormones had rendered her totally impotent while shrinking her male genitalia to toddler size. But her curves, especially her perky budding breasts, ached for M8t’s attention. She also felt guilty for constantly giving M8t boners. They really had little choice but to compromise their self limitations on sexual relations. The best they could manage was to avoid intercourse and below the waist oral.

In October the survivors of Moseby’s Raiders faced their sentencing. All had plead guilty to serious charges in exchange for dropping others. As a group none wanted to go through a public trial to expose their ineptitude and shame at having been utterly humbled and defeated by a transsexual and her boyfriend. The shortest term was 20 years until eligibility for parole. For his part Warren Wheeler, K8t’s erstwhile father, received life with no possibility of parole. No one knew he’d be dead within a year, murdered in a jailhouse fight.

By mid November K8t and M8t had completed the courses laid out for high school junior. The school board was surprised by that accomplishment and the fact the duo maintained their 4.0 average. They accepted the results which cleared the way for M8t and K8t to begin the courses laid out for high school seniors after Thanksgiving. With Fall over Gr8 Green went into the normal winter downtime, only having work when it snowed. This allowed them to forge ahead even faster on the senior level courses. By the end of January, the duo stunned the school board by presenting their 4.0 grades for completing the requirements for high school graduation. Both received their high school diploma.

The family had discussed what to do to celebrate the early graduation of the couple. Brenda, Harriet and Dinky were not really surprised when M8t and K8t declared they wanted to get married. While the adults understood their desire, they pointed out that legally they were still both males and thus unable to legally marry.

“Not here,” K8t smiled devilishly. “But Connecticut legalized same sex weddings on November 12 of last year. If we go there, with Mom’s written permission, we can get a licence and legally marry. We’ve already researched what we need and have everything. We also decided we’d like to be married in Mark Twain’s home. It’s a museum now and for a small fee they’ll allow a small private wedding of under ten people.”

“Mark Twain is our favorite author,” M8t added. “It would be great to be married in the room where he wrote his stories.”

“We’d also like to visit a few other sites,” K8t smiled. “We’ve mapped out an itinerary and we’ve saved enough money to pay for everything we have planned, including you being with us.”

Dinky began to laugh. “Show us what you have. I’m sure you’ve planned well but we’d like to go over it. If we approve, it’ll be our treat. After all, K8t, you are my grandaughter and the bride’s family traditionally pays for the wedding!”

Brenda chuckled at the precocious teens. “When are you planning this trip?”

“We’d like to get married on Valentines Day,” K8t smiled crookedly.

“Well, that doesn’t leave us much time,” Harriet sighed. “Get your plans and we’ll see what we can do.”

On Thursday, February 12, the Green family once more loaded up the 58 TPC for a road trip. Leaving at 7:00am, they headed to Hartford, Connecticut. The 690 mile trip would take 12 hours road time. It was 10:00pm when they crashed in their hotel. The next day they headed the City of Hartford’s Vital Statistics office in the Municipal Buildingon the ground floor Room 103 at 550 Main Street. M8t and K8t were excited as they approached the clerk wit Brenda, Harriet, and Dinky right behind them.

“How may I help you,” the clerk asked.

“We’d like to apply for a marriage licence,” M8t nervously but confidently declared as K8t clutched his hand. “We have our birth certificates, our high school diplomas, our drivers licence photo ID’s and our Social Security Cards.”

Brenda stepped forward and handed her papers to the clerk. “I’m K8t’s mother and M8's legal guardian. Since they are both 16 I’m providing the written consent for their marriage.”

The clerk accepted the papers and handed an application for marriage form to the happy couple. While they filled it out the clerk made photocopies of the documents. After reviewing the completed form, the clerk accepted the $30.00 filing fee and gave M8t and K8t the marriage licence.

With that they headed to meet the minister they had contacted to perform the ceremony. The woman welcomed the Greens into her office and reviewed the licence. Once satisfied everything was legal, they agreed to meet the next day at The Mark Twain House.

The next stop was about 10 miles south of Hartford at Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill. History was made in 1966 when hundreds of dinosaur tracks were exposed in Rocky Hill by a bulldozer operator who was excavating for a new state building. The site became Dinosaur State Park, which became a Registered National Landmark in 1968. Dinosaur State Park is one of the largest dinosaur track sites in North America. The tracks are from the early Jurassic period and were made over 200 million years ago by a carnivorous dinosaur similar to Dilophosaurus named Eubrontes. At present, 500 tracks are enclosed within a 55,000-square-foot geodesic dome; the remaining 1,500 are buried for preservation. The tracks range from 10 to 16 inches in length and are spaced 3.5 to 4.5 feet apart. An exterior site has fossilized tracks set up so visitors can make plaster castings to take home. Unfortunately, the area is only open for casting between May 1 and October 31.

By the time they returned to their hotel, they were exhausted.

On Valentines Day they ate brunch then headed to The Mark Twain House where they confirmed their registration for the marriage. Permission had been granted to perform the ceremony in the third floor Billiard Room. That was the room that served as Samuel Clemmons office where he penned a quite a few of his writings. Strangely, he seldom sat to write, preferring to stand and write on the slate playing surface of the billiard table. They toured the house and grounds before meeting with the minister and Mark Twain House staff in the small conference room. The group headed up to the third floor and prepared for the wedding. A bit after 2:00pm the minister began the short ceremony. The time was carefully plotted so that the “I do”s were exchange precisely at 14 minutes after the hour.

M8t and K8t were legally married at 14:14 hours on February 14, 2009.

The minister and witnesses signed the marriage certificate on the slate top of Samuel Clemmons’ pool table. One of the staff members had videotaped the entire ceremony. Afterward they headed to Max Downtown, one of Connecticut’s highest rated restaurants, for an extravagant celebratory meal.

Afterward they headed to the Bushnell Center for the Performing Arts where they enjoyed the Hartford run of the national tour of "Jersey Boys", a musical about how four blue-collar kids became one of the greatest successes in pop music history. The runaway smash-hit won the Best Musical Tony Award on Broadway, in London and Australia. The show covered the group’s rise up the charts, across the country and behind the music of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. The family was delighted by the electrifying performances of the golden greats that took the guys all the way to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: "Sherry," "Big Girls Don't Cry," "Can't Take My Eyes Off You," "Dawn," "My Eyes Adored You," and more.

That evening the happy couple snuggled in bed, more in love and closer than ever before. Their lovemaking was slow and delightful but they kept true to their mutual vow to wait for K8t’s SRS until actually consummating their marriage.

It was a happy but weary family who set out in the 58 TPC to head back home to Madison, WV.

Their marriage was kept under wraps from the general public although many looked and wondered at the matching rings on their left hands. The area simply was not open enough to accept them as a married couple. However that did not dampen M8t’s and K8t’s love nor their joy of life. What the future held for the lovers and their family was an open book.