Atalanta's Story Chapter 11- Final Chapter Book One. Written By Katelyn and edited by William Durr. I want to thank Bill for his help not only in this chapter but many other bumps getting here as well. I wrote this during last Christmas and the story is set in that same time.

In this final chapter Atalanta's train trip is not without its excitement or its odd assortment of characters. But exactly what forces are at work?

Chapter Eleven

The rattle of cars jostling on iron railings and the hiss of air brakes signaled that we had reached the Kansas City substation and a date with the dedicated passenger train to Boston. The one I was on from New Mexico carried both freight and people.

It was nearing midnight when the train stopped at the Union Station and passengers ferried to the Amtrak station two blocks over. Just three of us and our luggage needed transportation there.

I wondered how they made a profit from just the three of us and then remembered several people who had only rode from one town to another.

My fellow passengers consisted of a young mother and her eight-year-old daughter who were traveling to St. Louis for Christmas. Her name was Lily White and her daughter’s name was Snow White. She did resemble the fairy tale princess dressed in white. I just had to ask how she had come to have that name. Lily had a beautiful sense of humor and didn’t detect any malice in my question. The question just held the innocence of youth.

“It’s funny how it came to be. I named her after my grandmother whom I adored and I met Mr. White when Snow was about a year old. Our names were Greene then. After we became serious and he asked me to marry him both of our focus was on my first name and how it sounded … Lily White. It took my mother to point out that after David adopted her, Snow White was even a more famous name.”

“Surely she has a middle name you can use instead as some children can be cruel.”

“She does and we do, but my husband is a children’s book author and we self-publish under the brand Snow White Productions which includes live performances. Sometimes we give impromptu shows as we did tonight. We didn’t have time for her to change from her costume into her normal clothes or we’d miss the train.”

“Is your husband not traveling with you?”

“Yes but he left a day early to go ahead and make sure everything is ready when we get to our next stop.”

“You must live an exciting life then,” I asked the little girl, “What with wicked witches and handsome princes. You’ll have to stay away from juicy apples though,” I teased.

“It has been fun,” Mrs. White pointed out, “but it has been more fun sharing it with the two most important people in my life. And David, my husband, even got in the act.”

“David White?” I sounded the name out, puzzled. I didn’t connect it with anyone famous.

“David White was an actor that played Larry Tate in an old TV series in the 60s called Bewitched. That was before your time or mine. His mother was a fan,” she explained.

“Now tell us how did you get the name Atalanta? I don’t believe I’ve heard the name before.”

“Atalanta is a mythological goddess that was raised by a she bear after her father disowned her because she wasn’t a boy. She grew up outdoors among the hunters and was the equal of any man in the physical feats of her day. I had my mom change my name to Atalanta after a mystical experience I had.”

“So you’re a real live goddess,” Snow White asked.

“Well I’m alive but I don’t know about the goddess part. But you are a fairy tale princess and I guess I’m a fairy tale goddess; what are the chances of us meeting like this?”

Lily laughed, “That is strange isn’t it?”

Arriving at the Amtrak station cut short any more replies as our luggage was transferred and we each had our boarding passes certified. The Amtrak was within minutes of leaving for St. Louis so we boarded together and despite the number of passengers, we managed to get seats together.

I then remembered that I was supposed to call Mom before I left KC not afterwards.

“Excuse me I need to call my mom or she’ll think the boogeyman got me.”

I pressed send and waited until mom answered, “Hello.”

“Hi it’s me. I made it all right and am on the way to St. Louis even as we speak.”

“Atalanta, you knew you were supposed to call when you got there and not after you left.”

“I’m sorry mom but I met someone that distracted me.”

That was followed by a few seconds of silence, “Should I be worried?”

“No mom nothing like that it’s just that I met and am traveling with Snow White and her mother.”
Imagine that, she thought I was making the names up. I convinced her by persuading Lily and her daughter Snow to talk with mom.

When I got the phone back mom teased me, “Now all you need are the seven dwarfs to show up.” The laughter in her voice assured me that she was releasing pent-up tension.

“Now you call me when you get to St. Louis.”

“Mom,” I protested, “You’ll never get any sleep if I keep waking you up.”

“I’m not going to either way until you are on your way to Boston from St. Louis.”

“Okay mom,” I sighed, “I promise I’ll call you. Bye, I love you too, mom.”

“She worries too much about me and what kind of trouble I can get in to.”

“That is what mothers do.”

Mom’s offhand remark about the seven dwarfs had elicited a response from my early warning radar. I didn’t see any little people in the seats so maybe I wouldn’t get involved in a Snow White dispute. One could only hope but Manny’s words that for people like us opportunities came looking us up wouldn’t go away. We didn’t need to look for them.
Okay I thought what kind of trouble could an eight-year-old Snow White get in, or get me in to?

I settled into my seat with my wide-brimmed hat seemingly over my eyes belied the scanning of the train environment and patrons. I yawned and settled deeper in my seat. I noticed conversations had lulled and more people were yawning behind outstretched hands.

Could everybody be this tired and sleepy, I idly wondered? And that it happened to everyone at about the same time. What I wondered would be the result of a closed environment on oxygen levels? Carbon monoxide would build up without a fresh air exchange.

I pushed back my hat and looked around at my fellow passengers who seemed lethargic. I did not note any train officials but I had no way of knowing if that was a common occurrence. Suspicious, I sniffed the air detecting a faint sulfur smell.

Reaching a decision, I slowly rose from my seat and wandered down the aisle to the lavatory. Inside I noted the overhead fan not working and immediately went to raise the window. The fresh clean night air immediately hit me in the face and swept the mental fog away.

The question that sprang to mind was; is the ventilation system off a maintenance issue or is it deliberate? I quickly walked over to and tried to open the doors to the other cars but found them blocked or locked.

My next actions were to open as many windows in the car as I could quickly and bring Snow to the lavatory for the fresh air and then her mother. Soon people all over the car was rousing from their stupor and then complaining about the open windows and being cold.

“I opened the windows,” I shouted, “the ventilation system quit working and we were being asphyxiated by the carbon monoxide. I couldn’t open the doors to the other cars and couldn’t think of any other way to bring in fresh air.”
“Quite often the doors are closed for safety or expediency reasons,” a man offered.

“Will someone check the lavatory and see if the ventilation has started working yet or if it is still not functioning,” I asked.
“It’s still out,” another passenger offered.

“We are going to freeze with the windows wide open.”

“Yes let’s just crack them a little and does anyone know how to contact the conductor,” I asked.

At that moment, a bevy of black clad assailants swarmed from the ceilings. In the next second, the car went dark and as it did I noticed they were equipped with night vision goggles. It was after a second of total darkness before my eyes adjusted drawing in and magnifying what light remained.

The result was a grey world without color containing images of both civilians and the attacking force. They were easily identified; all dressed in black with bulky night vision goggles calmly stalking their target or targets. All were short; they needed to be to fit in the ceiling access for the ductwork. Mom’s comment about Snow White and the Dwarfs popped into my mind and I smiled at the irony.

I immediately realized to escape detection that I needed to fumble in the blackness as the rest of the passengers were, feigning blindness and to buy time until I knew their purpose. It also became apparent they were converging on the area I was occupying. Whether I was their target or it was the Whites didn’t matter.

“Mrs. White, you take Snow on your lap, set still, be quiet, and let me deal with this.”

I didn’t wait for her answer but carefully moved towards the aisle. I felt a well of energy surge inside and my left shoulder itched. My satchel was on the floor by my seat with no time to make its contents useful.

One black clad figure separated and moved between the seat one over from me. As that figure drew even with me, a spark of light and flash of movement gave warning and habitually my hand moved to block and in the same motion deflected and turned what became a hypodermic needle aimed for my neck back in its flight to the person that held the needle. That person let out a muffled groan and slumped on the seat.

Warned by a budding Gnostic mysticism, I again sidestepped moving just a few inches and felt the swish of air as a metallic baton passed where my head was located scat milliseconds earlier. The person wielding that club didn’t have time to wonder why the crunch he heard was his own head meeting the blackjack as he was jerked off-balance and fell forward bent over the seat back a red spot between his eyes rapidly swelling.

I moved boldly now into the aisle and confronted the third attacker easily blocking his swing and with no hesitation or mercy used the baton to strike his forehead with a sharp pop. Moving fluidly, I spun using the baton as a guard facing the remaining two foes and instantly hearing and feeling a tinny splat on the baton.

Instantaneous it seemed they moved and disappeared into the ceiling from which they had emerged from seconds earlier. Obeying a sixth sense I followed by placing the baton in the hands of the ninja slumped over my seat area and quickly and silently reclaimed my space beside the Whites.

The sudden glare of overhead lights momentarily blinded me as my eyes adjusted to the flood of illumination. I blinked bringing my vision into focus. The doors from the cars opened and two railroad officials rushed in.

I acted as surprised as the other passengers did at discovering three unconscious men in black sprawled in various positions. It was apparent to me that their target was either the Whites or me, with two men unconscious in an aisle on both side and another stretched out on the center aisle in front of our seats. The conductor flashed me an accusing look.

“What happened in here?” He demanded.

I remained quiet letting others display their ignorance of what had transpired in the dark and then echoed their replies. Finally, I had enough of his interrogations and insinuations.

“Mr. Conductor,” I drawled, “the reason we are all confused is that the ventilation system quit working and we were all close to asphyxiation in here. Somebody figured it out and opened the widows to let in fresh air. Ain’t that right?” I asked and looked at my fellow travelers.

They now had an object to vent at and readily agreed shouting insults.

I continued, “As we were about to call you the lights went out and these guys I’d say came in through the ceiling panels.”

Security was called to hold the suspects for police interview and a doctor determined that the hypodermic contained a dose of a general anesthesia. We were also told that police would need our statements. Idly I wondered if it was normal for security and a doctor to travel with the train.

After the men was secured and the car returned to a more normal temperature Lily leaned over and stated, “Why didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“Why didn’t you,” I countered.

“I don’t know but I thought you’d have a good reason.”

“I do. But it is difficult to explain. I’ve been trained to recognize threats and then act in those situations.”

“So,” Lily asked, “you recognized the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning and acted?”

“No,” I replied, “I acted and then recognized the cause. I acted because I’ve trained my body to a razor’s edge and knew that something was affecting me negatively.”

“Hum-m I think I understand.”

“I am on my way to a school in the north east and I think the attack was aimed at keeping me from attending that school. I appreciate you helping keep the spotlight off me.”

“Okay but it was pitch-black in here how were you able to see?”

I was tempted to tell a complete lie but instead settled for one that held some truth, “I used my other senses to compensate; similar to how a blind person develops better hearing and smell. But I do have good night vision too, so all of it together helped and I surprised them and that helped.”

The explanation was broad and general enough to satisfy all but a small elite group that I felt Mrs. White didn’t belong in.

We spent most of the trip in silence or in small talk until I decided to call mom before we arrived at St. Louis on the off-chance my departure was delayed by questioning from the police.

“Mom, we are just about to St. Louis.” I then told her I might be delayed some and explained that a couple of people were injured in the dark when the lights went out.

I blushed at Lily’s raised eyebrow and silently mouthed, I don’t want her to worry.

She nodded her understanding and acceptance as we began slowing to a stop. At the depot, I said goodbye to Lily and Snow as they disembarked. From my vantage, they were along with the rest of the passengers leaving the train being interviewed. Those passengers boarding were delayed while exit interviews was taking place and until those of us that was traveling to Boston gave their statements.

Hiram Fox was lead investigator and 30 year police veteran who had investigated almost every crime imaginable over those years. His team was competent and efficient turning what could be a lengthy process into one that passed quickly.
Hiram knew after only a couple of interviews and from background information on the passengers and assailants their intent and who their target was. He knew it and couldn’t prove it without Atalanta’s testimony. It irked him that his report would be incomplete and most likely the men get an insignificant punishment.

The three men were fringe outliers loosely connected with Humanity First and only one person, Atalanta Reed fit their target profile. She was traveling to a special school in New England and was traveling legally under a travel warrant.
He had three hardened mercenaries, one semi-comatose victim and two other of these men knocked out using their own weapons against them with no one admitting to have done it.

He had learned from Atalanta’s file of her desert rescue of the children and capture of the villains and her mother’s rescue a month earlier in a freak snowstorm and again the capture of the perps and her being shot.

There was no doubt in his mind a sector of Humanity First had hired mercenaries to kidnap Miss Reed. He also had no doubt she somehow foiled their attempt with the handicap of not having their night vision equipment to see in the dark.
He had been unable to poke holes in her story or break down her calm and confident manner that belied her tender years. Her demeanor as much as anything convinced Hiram that she indeed had whipped three full-grown adult men.

But she had steadfast denied having done anything other than sit quietly until the lights had come back on and claimed surprise at seeing the three unconscious men. He could find no one that disputed that claim. Hiram suspected the Whites could shed more light on it but he didn’t have any evidence to hold them or anyone for that matter. The most that the villains could be charged was trespass without Atalanta’s testimony.

“Atalanta, I have no doubt these men were sent to do you harm but without your cooperation they will walk. Is that what you want?” He asked exasperated.

“Lieutenant Fox, I have no doubt you are correct but I’m afraid I can’t help you. For all I know they tripped and knocked each other out or one of the other passengers did it and they don’t want to admit it for some reason.”

“I can guarantee those men didn’t trip over their own feet and I’m certain that one of the passengers-you-did overpower and defeat those vermin. You’re the only one that has the background to be that person.”

I tried again, “Lieutenant, I don’t know where you get the idea that I have the background you describe.”

I parried his questions until he left in a huff and soon after I saw passengers arriving and within minutes we left the St. Louis terminal and the non-stop trip to Boston.

After calling mom and assuring her that I had made it safely through the St. Louis connection and was on my way to Boston, I made a second call. I dug out the business card and dialed the number on the back.

“Hello,” the familiar voice spoke.

“Manny,” I smiled, “I have a problem …”

I watched as the lights of Boston twinkled and glowed from the night growing larger and larger until they merged into one gigantic glow. I wondered if I had done the right thing in contacting Manny for help.

All the adventures to date had been somewhat of my choosing and proactive. The brush with Humanity First was at their initiation and I was left reacting and being on the defensive. Due to Manny’s training and or my nature, I was more comfortable seeking danger than avoiding it.

Manny and I spent several minutes catching each other up what the other had done the last three months since he had left the ranch. He was just finishing a contract on the west coast and at loose ends until the New Year.

I caught Manny up on what mom was doing and how the ranch and his construction projects there were doing.
Finally, I told him about Liz’s kidnapping, the rescue, being shot by Sarge, and the decision to go to Whateley Academy.

“That SOB,” he declared angrily when I told him about Sarge, “If I ever get my hands on him.”

“He’s one tough bastard,” I agreed.

Then I told him about the abduction attempt by the group Humanity First also known by the acronym H1, “Manny I’m sure they haven’t given up and will try again in Boston. Until now, I haven’t been on the defensive side but I’m concerned about collateral damage. That thing on the train could have easily gotten out of hand and injured bystanders.”

He agreed that a second attempt was likely either at the depot or at the motel. He said he’d make a few calls and then call me back with the details.

The cavalcade of cars slowly rolled to a stop at the depot platform built into the back of the station lobby and open at each end. It was built similar to a tunnel. I rose from my seat and followed the stream of passengers exiting the train. Like cattle, we formed in a single line to have our tickets stamped, punched, or validated. Mine showed the departure time for Berlin and then Dunwich as 7:30 am Thursday, which should place me in Dunwich at 3 pm.

Collecting a cart, I retrieved my luggage stacking it on the buggy placing my duffel on top within easy reach. I carefully guided it through the maze of bodies to the front of the lobby to wait.

Looking out the glass windows of the depot lobby I scanned both the foot and mechanized traffic for the contact Manny had arranged. As I watched a car pull into one of the reserved parking slots in front, the car was decorated with faux runners and trim complete with reins and a jolly old man. On top in flashing neon lights was a sign that read, “Santa’s Cab and underneath in tiny print: “Hawks’ Concierge.” I smiled at the hastily added signage, Manny or as he was also known as Hawk, said I would have no doubt who my contact was. The driver, resplendent in bright red satin trimmed in white with polished black boots and matching cap, strode cheerfully across the sidewalk and into the lobby greeting me.

Manny, had by virtue of his clandestine operations and contacts, knew government operatives in cities worldwide that was hired either by the job or on retainer. These people operated legitimate business and moonlighting for the government on the side. The one Manny contacted in Boston was on year round retainer.

“Ho-Ho-Ho, Merry Christmas. You need a ride young miss?” The cut of his suit and the fake padding around his middle camouflaged the slight bulge under his arm. He caught my quick glance and smiled in recognition.

I couldn’t help but smile widely and returned his greeting as directed, “I do, to the South Pole, can you help me?”

“I can if you have the special travel arrangements.” That was my cue and I responded by producing my temporary MMID Card.

He gathered my luggage after handing back my card and loaded it in the trunk before opening the rear door to the sleigh. He smiled at me through the rear view mirror while noting how tightly I clutched my duffel.

Soon we pulled into the entry for the Holiday Inn near the North Station and parked. Mark turned in his seat, “Atalanta, I’ll take your bags in and we’ll meet more of my crew inside. You ready?”

I got out of the cab admiring the multistory glass enclosure that the Holiday Inn represented while Mark retrieved my bags. I followed him inside and we crossed the lobby that was already being decorated in Christmas tinsel and walked to the front desk.

I identified myself and gave my reservation number and immediately three men stepped forward, “Miss Reed, I’m here to take you into custody.”

“And you are and by what authority,” I asked coolly.

“My name is Melvin Renfrew and my authority is from the MCO branch office here in Boston.”

He was middle-aged of average height and heavy build with heavy features dressed in a dark suit. The two men with him fit that common description of street thugs.

“And what is it I’m supposed to have done, Mr. Renfrew,” I replied evenly.

“We have reason to believe you are an unregistered mutant and traveling illegally. I’m afraid you’ll need to come downtown with us while we conduct our investigation.”

“In other words you have nothing,” I accused, my gaze narrowing.

The lobby and its inhabitants changed in that instant as time slowed and the colors washed out replaced by a colorless world. In that world every movement, every gesture, every expression was magnified.

Before I realized I had moved, my hand clamped on Melvin’s which was inside his coat.

“If you don’t want me to beat you to death with it, leave it,” I whispered tersely standing inches from him and staring him in the eye smiling while he tried to free my grip. I stepped back when his grip relaxed and his hand moved back into view.

“Miss Reed has the proper credentials and is under military protection while she is here in our fair city,” Mark aka Santa Claus was speaking. Fanned out across the lobby was a bevy of sober looking elves in green and white dress poised and alert.

“She’s your responsibility then,” he sneered adding loudly, “and any damages or trouble she causes.” The last was for the ears of the desk clerk and any hotel guests in audience.

“I’m sorry,” the clerk began when we stepped to the counter, “but we’ll have to decline your reservation. We have our reputation and the safety of our guests to think of.”

“What reputation am I trampling,” I inquired mildly.

Flustered he mumbled an apology, “The Company’s policy is to refuse anyone that might harm or cause harm to its guests or personnel.”

Mark picking up my bags retorted, “Come on Atalanta we have better accommodations for you,” he snorted.

“Overdone wouldn’t you say,” I asked pointing to the elves that followed us.

Laughing heartily he guffawed, “Life’s too short to take everything too seriously.” I laughed in return as we walked outside to the cab where he deposited my bags again in the rear.

“Ours,” I asked indicating the two cars that pulled away as we did from the curb.

Nodding he commented, “That was sweet what you did back there. What tipped you? Don’t get me wrong we had it covered but your quick thinking stopped it before it started.”

“A combination of things,” I answered, “Manny’s training and my natural reflexes contribute. Lately though I’m developing a weird sense of danger.”

“That’s handy,” he observed.

“You know,” I replied suddenly inspired, “Are you up for some deviltry tonight?”

“What you got in mind?”

I told him my plan, and asked him “You think you can locate those clowns?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “and I like your style kid.”

I suddenly remembered I hadn’t called home yet and retrieved my cell phone from my purse. “Mom I made it.”

“How was your trip dear and did you get a nice room with a view?”

“The trip was nice but I haven’t seen the room yet. Yes I’m in a cab.” We talked a few minutes longer with my promise to call again before I went to sleep.

“You haven’t told her?”

“I was going to tell her when I got in the room but …”

“But you haven’t got a room.”

“Exactly,” I declared.

“All right but you have to tell her tonight after we get settled,” he rebutted as we stopped in front of a costume shop. I waited in the car and called Manny to inform him what had transpired at the motel, giving him the option to let mom know about his involvement. Mark returned a few minutes later with several bags in hand.

Mark deftly drove through the heavy downtown traffic to a house on the outskirts in a private location, set apart by stonewalls and gate across the drive.

“Home sweet home,” he declared as we passed by the gates and parked inside an attached garage. There we were met and greeted by a man and a woman who helped moved my luggage and the purchases inside. The costume store purchases were left on the kitchen counter while my luggage was taken to a room off the hall.

Soon a bunch of elves crowded in and began looking in the bags, raiding the icebox, or lounging on the sofa. The smell of food cooking added to make it a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Arlene separated herself and taking my elbow showed me to my room. “The bathroom is over there,” she uttered pointing at a closed door, “if you need to shower or change clothes. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”

“Thanks,” I responded, “But I’ll probably just wash up for now, and shower before bedtime. I think we have a late night excursion planned.”

Arlene nodded leaving me to go and wash up. Returning, I wandered into the kitchen area in time to catch some of the banter among the men. I walked over to where Arlene was busy with dinner.

“Anything I can do to help?”

She stopped what she was doing and wiping her hand on a towel responded, “I’ve got it sorted,” and hesitated before asking, “This foray tonight is your idea?”

I knew she had heard enough of the conversation to get the general thrust of the plan. “I did suggest it.” Frowning she turned and resumed her cooking.

Not feeling welcomed I wandered into the living room to sit beside Mark, “Have you called your mother yet,” he asked.

“I thought I’d wait until after supper to give Manny time to get his ducks in a row.” I continued at his quizzical look, “Mom would probably nail his hide to the barn door if he didn’t call her about you guys. Let’s face it I’m supposed to be staying in a motel tonight not at a private residence with people she doesn’t know. Manny is the common link.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

I tuned out on the conversation after that letting my mind wander over the course of events of the last few months and what lay ahead. Two thousand miles didn’t do justice to the gulf I felt existed two months ago to today. The evidence was that I was in the company of strangers in a strange house and in an unknown part of town on my way to a school I didn’t know existed two months ago.

“Dinners ready.”

I rose along with the others and walked into the kitchen area to sit at the table and eat.

“If you gripe about the food, you fix the next meal,” Arlene warned.

“The best food I ever saw,” one declared.

“Belongs in a picture book,” another agreed.

“It smells delicious.”

“It makes my mouth water.”

“Shut up and eat,” Arlene commanded as she finished placing the servings. Dinner was like that, a boisterous affair with good-natured ribbing and jostling for so-called alpha food portions. Arlene had managed to prepare enough food for a dozen hardy men’s appetites and us two ladies to eat. After finishing eating, I helped her clean up the kitchen despite her protests.

As I was wiping down the counter I murmured, “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“Not your fault,” she answered smiling wistfully, “They don’t need an excuse to get into trouble. They are naturally good at it.”

“Okay Red,” Mark called out at me, “It’s time to call your mom,” pointing at the phone. I nodded my acceptance and picking up the phone dialed home. It was picked up on the first ring.

“Mom, it’s me.” I followed that greeting with hasty explanations and assurances. She wasn’t happy with me and especially unhappy with a couple of groups, Humanity First and the MCO who she described as terrorists. In the end, she did agree that my travel papers and mutant classification limited my choices.

She did want to talk with Mark who I introduced as Santa along with his elfin helpers. I blushed once or twice deducing what was being said from overhearing the one-sided conversation.

He ended their discussion assuring her, “You don’t have to worry about her safety Mrs. Reed, if anything happens to Atalanta it will be over my dead body.” A chorus of agreement echoed his sentiment followed by his statement, “And I’m too mean to kill.”

“You’ve certainly had an interesting trip, Snow White and the five Dwarfs, Santa Claus and his helpers,” Mom quipped when I was handed the phone back.

I breathed a sigh of relief, “It has been all of that and more. But on the bright side I’ve made new friends.” We exchanged more pleasantries before I hung up promising to call her again first thing in the morning.

However, the call produced a set back to our plan tonight. My part in the latest version called for me to act as lookout instead of at the point. Apparently, Mom had fanned the flames of paternal instincts and Mark was adamant about minimizing my exposure to risk. He refused all my calls at logical arguments or emotional pleading and he ended the exchange by suggesting we all get some sleep before midnight.

Rather than arguing with a wall or the furniture, I retreated to my room where I decided to draw a bath and soak. Before undressing and getting into the steaming water, I carefully arranged several utility items from my duffel as well as retrieving the bath salts and bubble bath mom had insisted on packing.

I exhaled a long sigh as I submerged my body in the hot water and relaxed. Submerged in the soapy water I washed parts that at times felt foreign and other times elicited unbidden images. The combination of bath salts fragrance and heat melted the day’s tension down the drain as I began drying off. I dried off in the tub as the water drained away before stepping out.

Dressing in clean underwear, I donned my flannel nightshirt before sitting at the dressing table and performing my habitual evening rituals.

Turning down the covers, I set the bedside alarm for midnight from my pillow.

Consciousness returned as I suddenly became aware. I remained motionless willing my senses to full alert. Sounds reached me first; the soft low buzz of conversation with an occasional word. I sensed rather than heard movement. Peering from under hooded eyelids, I discerned the darkened room and its contents. Facing me was the vanity and desk, on my left a chest of drawers and beside the bed a night table. The large red numerals read 2:00 AM. Memories came flooding in and quickly throwing back the covers, I hastily dressed in gray shirt and pants followed by pulling on my boots and long coat lastly jamming my wide-brimmed shapeless hat over my red mass of hair successfully hiding most of it and my face in the shadows. I guessed that someone had slipped into the room after I fell asleep to turn off the alarm.

I slipped quietly from my room and down the hall following the whispered conversation to the kitchen and to the garage when two Grinch and Frosty were huddled and an outer circle consisting of similarly themed characters that listened attentive to instructions of the brain trust at the center.

I sidled softly over and joined the outer circle unnoticed until one Grinch at the center looked past his companions and saw me. Eye contact quickly passed between members informing each an extra person had joined the group. One-by-one they turned staring at me.

“What,” I asked, “do I have something hanging out where it shouldn’t,” looking down and at my backside.

The Grinch growled, “What are you doing up?”

“I thought we had a plan,” I retorted.

“We did,” he conceded, “until your mother called back. It seems she knows you better than you think. You either stay here or we all do.”

Silence greeted his statement with all eyes on me waiting my decision. Sighing, I acquiesced, “I don’t like it, but I understand your position. I’ve been enough trouble for you without making it worse. I’ll stay here and leave it up to you whether you go or stay. You don’t have to go on with the plan if you don’t want to.”

“Believe me,” the former Santa replied beaming, “we’re itching to commit a little mayhem.”

“Okay do a good job and be safe. I hate to think of one of you guys getting hurt while I’m stuck here.”

In that moment recognition lit their eyes with the knowledge that anyone of them would have said and felt the same. They each gave me a sympathetic shoulder pat as they filed out.

Arlene appeared from a side door after they had left, “They will be all right,” she said wrapping her arm around my shoulder as I watched their headlights disappear. Uncomfortable by her show of affection I deftly slipped her grasp.
“You all have a gym here. I might as well work off some of this energy.”

“In the basement, I’ll show you where it’s at.”

“Don’t bother,” I replied sharply, “just point me in the direction. I need to change into my workout togs,” I added gently, puzzled by my sudden stab of anger.

Arlene silently pointed to a door off the kitchen and turned leaving for another part of the house. Groaning silently, I walked to my room wondering at my uneasiness and what triggered it.

Alone in my room I considered what I knew, what I thought I knew, and what I should do next. I needed independent verifiable information and only two sources to go to for that knowledge, mom and Manny. Manny knew Mark and the safe house but it was highly unlikely that he could know everyone here. The very nature of covert operations attracted opportunistic individuals who sold their services freely.

Mom on the other hand didn’t know anyone here but me but she had apparently called back and talked with someone here last night. Unable to shake the strong feelings of needing to act but having no idea of what action to take I fished out my cell phone and dialed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Atalanta, are you all right? There is nothing wrong is there?”

“No, Mom I’m all right but I did tell you I’d call first thing in the morning,” I replied smiling into the phone.

“Are you leaving this early?”

“No mom, the guys left to go do … something.”

“I thought they were taking you as their lookout for that.”

“I thought so to; didn’t you call and make them promise to leave me out of it?”

“I thought about it but, no I didn’t dear. Did they say I did?”

“They might have given me that as an excuse not to take me. You know how men are.”

“I do,” she exclaimed lightly.

“That’s probably it,” I agreed laughing softly with her, “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

“That is fine,” she assured me, “you can call me any time for any reason.”

“Thanks mom, I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

I immediately dialed another number this time in Los Angeles, “Manny,” I inquired when he picked up.

“Yeah, Atalanta is everything all right.”

“I’m not sure,” I replied telling Manny of what happened and their explanation of not taking me with them along with my feelings of something being not right and calling mom and finding she hadn’t called back later to demand that I stay in the house.

Manny assured me that I was doing the right thing and asked me to describe everything I said or noticed since waking up. I did.

“I doubt Arlene is the mole but either way they will look in your bedroom first. Is your light on?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

“First close the vents in your room, stay away from in front of the windows, and turn your lights off. Then go into the bathroom, remove the light bulbs or break them and turn the ventilation on. Are you armed?”

“Yes.”

“Good, lock your door and set tight. How long have Mark and the team been gone?”

“Between 35 and 40 minutes I guess.”

“I’ll call Mark but it might take a few tries to get through if he’s busy. Think you can hold out until then?”

“Piece of cake,” I declared mightily.

“Hang in there kiddo.”

“I will,” I replied and hanging up the phone and quickly killing the overhead light and locking the bedroom door. Keeping to the room’s corners, I slipped over to the window making sure the curtains overlapped, remembering the details I had seen from outside looking in at the homestead where mom was held hostage. From there I snatched up my duffel bag and retreated into the bathroom removing the lights from their sockets.

Grateful for the hours Manny had me taking apart and assembling my weapons blindfolded, I quickly had the pistols put together and loaded. I slipped them in holsters strapped around my middle. I tucked a pair of rosewood nunchucks in my waistband that Manny specially ordered. He claimed the ancient intricate carving held secret powers. I hoped they did.
A feature of my boots was they contained hidden pockets designed to hold my tanto stilettos in. I placed a knife in each sheath. I strapped a 12-inch fighting knife across my chest, the handle down, the blade resting between my breasts.

I then shrugged into my dark long coat and pinned my hair under the shapeless wide-brimmed hat. I might move easier without the coat but it made me feel better with it on. My persona was tied up in it. And I hoped its flowing form would blend in and surprise my attackers.

I settled down to wait, opening all my senses to any stimuli, including that sense I didn’t have a label for.

A slight scratching at the door claimed my attention. Outside, the crunch of footsteps on frozen earth reached me, as did creaking of the windowsill. A second sight created in my mind showed the door to my room from the outside and two people outside bent over at work on the doorknob their hands twisting and turning feverishly. I wondered how many others were in the house and my view changed to a panoramic that showed two more teams of two checking the other rooms.

I switched location to outside my window seeing two more teams testing the windows. Abruptly, I felt a presence behind me and despite my body’s need to act; I remained frozen reaching out with my spirit instead. What it touched caused a reaction from the owl image on my left shoulder flaring to life sending warm energy throughout my body.

The bedroom door slowly opened letting in two black clad figures that tiptoed towards the bed. At that very moment I heard glass cut from the window being removed and a hand reaching through the window and tripping the latch.

Despite feeling trapped I remained in the vanity’s shadows hidden and watching. A soft curse came from one of the men at finding my bed empty.

“Maybe she went with them after all.”

“Not unless she left later and followed them at a distance. Turn on the light,” he directed the command at a man just outside the room in the hallway. The clicking of the switch echoed unnaturally loud in the heightened atmosphere.

“Shit, did we cut power?”

“No, here,” he added fumbling for a light.

Leaping from the shadows I crashed into him and knocking him into his companion sending both into the chest. I veered and crashed feet first through the window hoping it wasn’t hardened glass. It wasn’t and I crashed through sending glass shards flying. Both men outside flinched, recoiling from the flying glass ducking to protect their eyes. As I flashed through amidst the debris, I heel kicked one man in his ribs and twisting in mid-air kicked the other in the face and then disappeared into the foliage and trees.

Again, I felt the looming presence of one that I recognized as an ancient spirit. I slipped from tree to tree hoping to catch a glimpse of this new threat. Something old in me cried out to do battle with this new creature. She craved a test of strength and wills against this imposter. I felt her disdain and anger rise and with it, accusations of ignoble bloodlines.

What was going on? Who are you? I wondered at the voice in my head.

I finally located the entity that claimed my attention and was the source of my anger. He stood alone hands on hips calling out taunting, “I know you’re out there, come and face me if you dare.”

My body ached to answer his battle call. However, I remained hidden. I didn’t want to blow Mark’s cover and this entity wasn’t alone. Discretion proving the better part of valor I waited while studying his appearance and mannerisms. I didn’t know his name but I’d know him when we met again.

He turned and walked away after a few more dares. I felt the others were leaving and I cautiously approached the front of the house. Sensing no danger, I went into the garage first and waited measuring the temperament of the building.
At that moment I heard and then saw the approaching cars as they wheeled into the drive and parked in the garage after opening the motorized doors. Their headlights illuminated me standing at the back legs apart with my hands hanging at my side.

Mark was out of his car before it stopped, “Atalanta, are you all right? Manny called me.”

“I’m fine, did you do what you set out to do.”

“Most of it, but what happened here,” he asked pointing at the door ajar leading inside the house.

“We were set up, mom never called. At least a dozen people broke in here but I escaped through my bedroom window.”

“I know,” Mark replied, “Pete rolled on us,” he indicated a disheveled figure in the backseat of his car.

I changed the subject. “How much is left to finish the project?”

“The packages are ready to be delivered.”

“What about him,” I asked.

“We’ll put the fear of god into him and set him out somewhere in the countryside.”

“How about letting me?”

“Seriously,” he inquired studying my face.

“Seriously,” I echoed, “I want his balls.”

Mark visibly winced,“Okay, bring him inside.”

We found Arlene bound and gagged in her room who swore up a storm when she was released and again at Pete after seeing him trussed up. In my room, Mark nodded appreciatively at the removed and broken bulbs but swore softly at the broken window.

“How did that happen?”

“It was getting crowded in here and they had figured out why there was no light and the window seemed the quickest escape.”

“That’s the rub,” Mark murmured, “You shouldn’t have been able to break that window. Ah, hell let’s go in the basement and finish this thing. Then we go finish the other thing.”

Arlene and I brought up the rear to the basement, “Are you sure about this, Pete is a mean SOB.”

Stopping I gripped her arm, “This is hard to explain but one of the kidnappers tonight has woken up something inside me that calls for retribution. I will have my hands full to keep from killing this creep. Don’t worry about me, worry about Pete,” I replied my voice and eyes filling with feral intensity.

Entering the room, I saw the boxing ring and inwardly groaned seeing Pete is fitted with gloves.

“Queensbury Rules,” I inquired sarcastically. “I don’t want nor need any special treatment especially if it’s because I’m a girl.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want or need it’s what you get,” Mark replied laconically.

“Fine, whatever,” I snapped removing my coat, hat, and boots. From under my shirt, I produced my holster and guns and added to the growing pile the nunchucks from my waist. I waited stoically while my gloves were laced on tight, my gaze never wavering from the face of Pete’s.

Once inside the ring I waited impatiently as Mark gave us instructions and once he left the ring I immediately moved, quickly drawing a punch from Pete that I easily parried. Stepping inside his reach I threw a left right combination landing on his bottom ribs with resounding thuds and danced back out of range.

I read his intent milliseconds before he acted and when combined with my reflexes, training, and conditioning the contest was (to me) as exciting and predictable as sparring with a heavy bag.

Unlike what he did, I kept my hands low to throw quicker harder hooks to his body. My face offered him a target too tempting to ignore, seemingly unprotected. Each of his attempts missed by scant inches or slid off my shoulders while mine connected and throwing two punches to his one.

Anger replaced intent in his eyes, then panic and pain, and last was fear as he backpedaled wildly. Any effort at offense was abandoned sapped by bruised ribs and burning lungs.

The fight was two minutes old when I stepped inside a lazy, awkwardly thrown haymaker and countered by throwing a left hook with all of my 125 lbs behind it and connecting with his jaw. The report sounded like a pistol shot and I felt bone crack under my glove as his eyes rolled back into his head and he folded slowly to the floor like a rag doll laying there limp.

The ring immediately filled as Pete was revived and helped to his feet supported by two men. Individual words penetrated the zone I was in but my eyes never left his until my gloves were removed.

“I have a message I want delivered. Do you understand?” It was clear he didn’t. Pete’s eyes were unfocused and he was in pain.

“Anyone have any smelling salts and something for pain. I want his undivided attention.”

“He’s got a broken jaw and several broken and cracked ribs. He’ll need to go to a doctor or hospital and have those bones set.” The group’s medic announced after examining him and rendering first aid.

“Pete, I want you to deliver a message from me to whoever hired you. Tonight makes three times I’ve been targeted in the last 36 hours and I’m getting sick of it. Tell him or them to drop it or I’ll come hunting them. And I’ll find them. Do you believe me when I say I’ll find them?”

He nodded croaking out a, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, just so you know I wanted this fight with edged weapons. I really wanted to hurt you Pete. You understand what I’m saying?”

He nodded numbly.

“Mark, do we drop him at the hospital before or after?”

“After I think as he’ll be a participant.”

“Given the time,” I asked pointing at his watch, “do we come back here or should I pack and we go directly to the station.”

Mark rubbing his chin reflected, “No we come back here, you do want to see the results in the paper this morning, don’t you?”

I nodded, “I do.”

I watched and acted as backup and lookout as the rest of the plan was executed. The three MCO officials from the hotel lobby, now dressed as the Keystone Cops, were strung up in Christmas wrappings and festive tape to columns outside the steps at the north branch of the MCO. The MCO lobby was similarly festively attired with bawdy humor and juvenile tricks.

Several well-placed calls brought the media; print, TV, and internet to the same north address and Hiram Ledger cooperated arriving in time to be photographed with his sad minions. Fleeing inside to escape he was met by our pranks going from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Hiram’s photos made national news, he became a laughingstock after his wide-eyed shock and antics on the lawn, and the subsequent yellow stripe down his back was printed in almost every national and local paper. It became a viral hit on the internet the same day.

The mood was light and conversation flowed freely around the kitchen table at the safe house. The sun was beginning to rise as night loosened its hold on the city. At the table’s center, boxes and bags of breakfast food was laid out along with steaming cups of coffee in Styrofoam containers.

“Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave to go to the train station?” I asked over bacon and eggs.

“No we are going to drive you to the Berlin Station. First, what happened here last night? I mean what happened to you.”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question. Someone in the group last night triggered or woke up someone or something in me. It’s new to me too and I’m not sure what to make of it. Ever since I was shot a couple of months ago rescuing mom, things have been a little weird. First there was this,” I stated pulling down my shirt sleeve revealing the owl tattooed on my left shoulder.

Several of the guys inspected the artwork, commenting on the details and design, and asked, “Who did that work?”

I recounted the kidnapping, the owl guiding me, the rescue of my mother, and later being shot with the owl breaking through the window and covering me.

“All I know is the owl one moment was covering me and the next moment he disappeared and this,” I pointed to my left shoulder, “appeared.”

Mark had joined several of the other team members at looking at my owl symbol suddenly exclaimed, “Atalanta, you guys, have you looked real close at this mark?”

I shook my head.

“This is not ink work or even etched into or under the skin. It is more personal and permanent than that; it’s more like a birthmark!”

Like being shot and a rebirth, I thought.

“Like being shot and reborn,” Mark echoed my thoughts. Or had I heard his?

“That is the reason I asked what happened to you. You had the look I’ve seen in people right before or in battle right up until you knocked Pete out. Then it was like you flipped a switch.”

“I can’t offer much help explaining it either. That is why I’m going to Whateley Academy to get explanations and answers.”

Late that afternoon we drove into Berlin town limits. The train station wasn’t hard to find; all we needed do was follow the tracks and the road that ran alongside it. The depot and loading platform reminded me of the one in New Mexico that I had departed from---two days ago, it seemed longer.

I had called both mom and Manny to let them know how I was and what my plans were. Both were delighted that Mark and his team was driving me to Berlin to catch the train for the short shuttle to Dunwich. I believe Manny had already talked with Mark when I called him.

After the requisite greetings Manny bluntly asked, “We never got into any boxing but I understand you put on an exhibition last night or this morning. Mark said you looked like Tyson did in his prime.”

“You know what Manny. I put a hurt on him. I did it coldly, calculating, and deliberate.”

“Yeah Mark told me you broke Pete’s jaw and several ribs and you did it in a little more than a minute.”

“And he didn’t lay a glove on me Manny. But you know what’s scary.”

“What?”

“Ever since I got shot I have felt different; stronger … no not that’s not quite what I mean either. A better word is energy. Yeah that is it! Energy! It feels like I am plugged into 240 volts and not a110 outlet but not all the time. This tattoo or as Mark says my birthmark flared up when the five guys in the train attacked and at the motel but then faded real quickly. But at the house it flared and grew; I felt a presence there that I can’t explain but a part of me recognized it as you would an old enemy.”

“What do you mean by a presence?”

I thought about the answer long enough for Manny to ask, “Atalanta, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m giving your question due consideration. It is like you feel someone looking at you and turn around to see who it is. Or you can sense a big cat stalking you. That is the kind of thing.”

“Go on,” Manny prompted.

“Like I said I felt my shoulder burn like before but unlike the other times I felt this warmth spread throughout my body. Then I felt this primal battle call …”

Manny interrupted again, “A primal battle call?”

“Yeah, it’s hard to explain a bunch of images or snapshots of battlefields. You know ancient stuff: swords, shields, axes, blood, with yelling and cursing in pain or rage. After that this cold rage sets in and I want to kill this thing … this presence and I bust through that window and go outside hunting him.”

“Well that explains about the window.”

“What about the window? Mark asked about it too.”

“That was tempered bulletproof stuff which you should not have been able to break.”

“Oh, sorry but when after it was over with I still had this need to battle with something. I wanted to kill Pete when they brought him in.”

“I don’t blame you, I …”

“You don’t understand Manny; I wanted the fight to be with knives not with gloves. I didn’t want to beat him but I wanted to hurt him.”

We talked a little longer and we hung up with Manny telling me to call him anytime. I told him not to worry Whateley would help me cope.

We exited the Suburban with Mark and two of his guys flanking us, and a third bringing my luggage at the rear. From the other vehicle, men poured out and staked out various locations around the perimeter.

I giggled looking at the bodyguards.

“What’s so funny?”

“My own entourage,” I smiled, “I must be a movie star or something.”

“Or something,” Mark returned as we walked through the doors.

The balding clerk swallowed nervously as our procession filed in. Four tough competent men and a girl walked through the doorway. One separated himself and came towards the counter. The girl veered off and sat down on a bench with two of the men standing facing out and the third man the one with the luggage setting beside the girl. He noticed at least two more nondescript types outside attentive.

He didn’t know who the girl was but it was obvious she was important.

“I’m Mark Rivers,” the man said, “We’re a military escort safely escorting that young lady from Boston here to the Berlin depot and see her safely onboard to Dunwich,” handing over her travel documents.

“She was supposed to come in on the train from Boston.”

“Some folks didn’t want her to get there and it was decided just to drive her here instead.”

It was irregular but the clerk decided after a second look at her escorts to not protest. The clerk took her original stub, deducted the fee from Boston and printed the ticket out to Dunwich, handing Mark two twenties and the ticket stub to Dunwich. He breathed a sigh of relief when they left.

“No problem,” Mark smiled as he handed me the ticket and bills, “you shouldn’t have any travel problems from here on out. Two of my guys rode up from Boston and they tell me nobody or anything suspicious got on. I have guys here looking for the same.”

On the heels of that statement, the train whistled sounded and air brakes began their hissing as the train pulled alongside the platform.

Impulsively I hugged each guy and in turn thanked each.

“Hey,” Mark laughed, “it was either protect you or protect Boston.”

“I’m not that bad.”

I handed my ticket to the conductor who duly punched it and handed it back. The guys insisted bringing my luggage on and since it was a short trip and the train had few passengers my luggage rode beside me.

Waving goodbye to Mark and his team as the train pulled slowly away heading towards the distant snow-capped peaks I could help wonder, what lay ahead?

I changed images for this chapter and I'd be interested in your thoughts on which you like best.

This is it for the first book. I do hope you guys and gals enjoyed the tale. I've enjoyed writing it. I am working on the second book and will start posting as soon as it is completed and sent to my editor.I hope to finish writing it in the next month but as I am on my third re write now, who knows how long.

Thanks for reading and I'll answer any question that I can.

Katelyn