I meant to post this Saturday but life kept getting in the way. Mostly though its myself as I want to rewrite it again. Again I want to thank all the people that helped me.

Plans are being put in place while Atalanta goes exploring.

Chapter 9

The wind streamed in my face as Grey and I flew across the forest floor. The filly seemed to feel the new sense of enlightenment, of freedom as she lengthened her stride, her hooves barely grazing the ground. I let her have her head for a couple of hundred yards before gently reining her in until we finally came to a walk.

“That was fun wasn’t it girl,” I spoke gently reaching forward and patting her neck. Grey, whinnying her agreement began nodding her head. Dismounting I unhooked the canteen from the saddle and soaked a cloth in water and held it to her nose. After taking a drink I poured out water in my hat and let her drink some.

From there I walked her down to the road where we crossed unnoticed and then into the bowl that led to the river’s edge and my campsite. After unsaddling Grey we crossed the river where I picketed her with the other horses before crossing back to my campsite. Despite it being a wide and deep river, debris and silt collected just below where my camp was set up. Here the water was only about two feet deep and I crossed it, barefoot and with my pant legs rolled up.

After erasing the readily discernible signs leading to the camp I relaxed in the tent to review and wait in the afternoon sun. The camp had its pluses and minus’ and water was the source of both.

Water had carved out the rocky surface to form a cup shape offering concealment and cover but that same action posed threats during the rainy season. But that threat kept the wild animals from using it as a den. I didn’t plan on using it past today.

I reached into my duffel bag and retrieved the book that Audhilde had gifted me yesterday and opened it to read while I waited. The book wasn’t very thick and I read it in about an hour taking note of several items to meditate on.

The first was that, “All warfare is deception,” seemed like straightforward advice while the second item that caught my attention, also in that first chapter, felt like a riddle. “If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him …” Choleric, I knew meant a take charge fiery kind of individual. So, I thought, does that mean to fight fire with fire?

There was more than one personality type, why was only one listed? Could it be the author was proscribing to fight like with like; fire with fire? Or, remembering his warning about deception, just pretending to. The other takeaway from chapter one was a warning Manny had preached again and again about, “no plan survives contact,” or as Sun Tzu explains it: ‘As circumstances favor one should modify one’s plans.’

I knew in later chapters Sun Tzu continues to encourage subtlety in all its forms. Scattered throughout the book was other advice that stood out, knowing yourself and knowing your enemy. A good defensive strategy keeps you from defeat while an offensive strategy helps assure victory over the enemy. He also admonishes to not only win but to win with ease. I was also curious that an innocuous piece of advice at the start of chapter 8 jumped out at me: In war, the general receives his commands from his sovereign or ruler.

Closing the book I stretched, yawning as I put the book back in the bag and rose to my feet to look around outside. I felt like I needed to read that book several times to pull out all its gems.

I paused at the tent’s entrance to open my senses to outside conditions. Satisfied, despite the water’s constant murmur that nothing lay in wait, I opened the flap to walk outside.

I felt restless with the need to be on the move and looking at the sun, still high in the sky; I estimated I had five hours until dark. I doubted I had enough time to find a new campsite and break camp here and setup the new one. But I did have time to accomplish a portion of it by taking some gear with me as I explored the land beyond the river.

I waded across the river to retrieve Grey and the packhorse leaving the third horse behind to voice his protest. An hour later I had most of the staples and non-perishable goods lashed on the pack animal proceeding back to the valley. The third horse whinnied a greeting at us. Dismounting I fed and watered that horse before transferring half the weight of the supplies for him to carry.

From Grey’s back I scanned the landscape noting its features while munching on a protein bar. I led the procession across the valley with the bridles of the other horses tied to my saddle. Scrub brush, stunted pines, and tufts of wild grass dotted our way. Directly ahead and extending to my left rose solid granite cliffs. To my right the cliffs gradually gave way to rolling forested terrain of green. The river ran somewhere between the two formations, unless a tributary joined somewhere ahead.

As I angled the horses towards a notch on the horizon between the grey bulwark and the tree line I reflected back to yesterday at the train station in Dunwich. Two sentences spoken by the would be kidnappers was etched in my mind as were their implications and the reason I chose to shun Whateley for now.

“She looks just like her picture.” In going through their pockets I found the picture. It was the one on my MMID card and school ID. There were no official pictures nor was my name released in the Utah incidence.

“Here comes our ride.” I could still see that green van as it drove up looking exactly like thousands of other green vans. The facts seemed clear to me: They knew my arrival time, had a copy of my ID, and recognized the school van. That screamed a leak inside the school and until I knew more I wasn’t about to surrender my freedom for faux security.

Nope it wasn't going to happen.

I soon came to the banks of the Miskatonic River as it made a sweeping turn west across the granite face of the cliffs. Due north a large creek tumbled down an avenue offered by the forest and joined the Miskatonic farther to my east doubling the river’s size. It was this onrush of water that I suspected caused the erosion in the cliffs where I had camped.

Following the river back towards the direction of my camp I found what I was looking for at the intersection of the two waterways. Set back from the river bank about 50 feet grew a small copse of hardwoods and farther back and higher up, an outcropping of rocks stood guard.

After letting the horses drink I rode up to the plateau to investigate. Once on top, from my horses back I swept the terrain, from the Miskatonic disappearing into the west to my campsite in the southeast. From this location I had a commanding view, though I did worry that the growth of trees blocked my view to the north.

The tabletop like surface about 50 feet in diameter was surrounded on three sides by rocky sentinels. The location wasn’t perfect but the confines of the cave-like structure of the cliffs had me reconsidering spending another night there. From the sun’s position in the sky I had about three hours until dark and just enough time to move.

The sun had already set behind the thin ribbon that was the Miskatonic River and darkness was quickly settling in. But I had my tent set up, cameras in place pointing towards the three approaches. A fire flickered in the pit I had dug; with canned stew simmering in the covered pot resting on the grill.

After I had fed and watered the horses I constructed a temporary corral by stringing ropes between the rocks on the open end of the mesa to let my horses move freely. I had just poured a cup of steaming coffee when the phone rang. Fumbling in my pocket I found the ringing phone and answered it, “Hello.”

“Atalanta?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Atalanta, it’s me Manny. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine Manny, how are things at your end?”

“I’ve good news, not so good news, and no news I guess. The good news is we found the leak in the school and we’re sure that it is coming from an extra email account that has been set up for that purpose. The file clerk has been sending reports to an unauthorized address but that address was established before she started work there.”

“Could it have been done from outside the school,” I wondered.

“No, it was probably done by whoever installed the network,” Manny answered, “the house in Boston you were destined for is owned by Red Bastard Properties; a shell company located off shore. Who the owners are, we don’t know and may never know.”

“Well that is more than we did know,” I said feeling my mood lighten, “what about the phone call?”

“That went well. The call came from somewhere in Nevada. The guys were anxious to cooperate with us and played their part to perfection. They are supposed to deliver you to a destination outside Omaha, Monday evening. You think you can hold out and lay low until then?”

“Piece of cake,” I stated cheerfully, “any more news?”

“Your Mom and Mrs. Carson both believe you are with Mark and his team.”

“How is Mom taking it,” I queried biting my lower lip.

“She is on edge but doing well. I need to hang up now because she is due to call any minute. I have my phone programmed to forward her call to your phone. I’ll call you back after she gets through talking.”

“Okay.”

“Atalanta, remember you are supposed to be with Mark and not alone in the wilderness.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Be careful.”

I will and you do the same. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I didn’t have long to wait before the phone rang. Taking a deep breath I answered, “Mom?”

“Yes. Atalanta, are you all right,” Mom’s strained words reached my ears.

“Mom, I’m fine. You know me; I’ll do anything to get out of school.”

“Atalanta this is serious,” she admonished me.

Properly chided I returned, “Mom I know it’s serious. I was trying to cheer you up.”

“I don’t need cheering up. I need my baby girl safe.”

“Not even a little bit,” I urged.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, “but I’m concerned about that school and whether sending you there was the right thing to do. You’ve had all kinds of people after you since we put you on that train.”

“I know, but such is the life of a mutant ninja teenager,” I intoned. That did bring laughter. We talked several more minutes; I learned she wasn’t happy that Mrs. Carson had waited several hours before calling her about me. We hung up soon after with my promise to call her tomorrow.

Manny’s call came after I finished eating supper.

“How did it go?” he wanted to know.

“All right, I suppose, anything new on your end?”

“Mrs. Carson is spitting nails from what I hear.”

Somehow the image of a bent old granny, her chin stained and leaning on a cane with fire flashing from her eyes found it’s way in my mind. I grinned through the phone at the image.

“Good,” I exclaimed, “maybe by the time I get there she’ll be through chewing.”

Manny chuckled, “Somehow I don’t think you’ll get off that easy. Have you found another campsite yet?”

“I’ve already moved a couple miles north, that cave began to feel more and more like a tomb the longer I stayed there.”
We talked a few minutes longer before hanging up but not before he warned me to be careful. After inspecting the perimeter, I crawled in to my tent and went to sleep. As I drifted off to sleep I laid my plans for the next two days.