Mindful Book 2

Chapter 1

Restart.

Emma had wrestled since dawn with the spectral fog and her inadequate attempts to capture it on her canvas. She always found it difficult to transcribe the ghostly atmosphere of the early sea mists but this morning her brushes seemed to have a mind of their own. Sometimes, when her mood and the conditions were right, she could produce a winning picture that was quickly snapped up from the local gallery. Today however the oily sea and blurring mist destroyed any hope of a horizon and an essential perspective. Frustrated with the elements she flung down her brushes and stalked angrily towards the shoreline.

The grey waves slid eerily out of the mist then heaped up like charging elephants before destroying themselves in a thunderous welter of violence amidst the rocks and sand. Sadly, the restless booming of the surf was lost on Emma. She was totally deaf. She had been since she was ten years of age when a hereditary condition had destroyed her ear drums. Slowly throughout her early teens, she was precipitated into the lonely world of deafness. She could remember sounds but now they were forever lost to her. Her deafness was incurable.

The views of the Big Sur however, compensated slightly for her loss. The majestic scenes were always changing while the wild elemental forces were sucked in by her remaining senses of sight, touch and smell to feed the spirituality that gave life to her pictures. Having concluded that the mist was soon to lift, she settled on a huge freshly washed-up log and waited for the early morning sun to burn off some of the mist. When the mist was partially cleared she might get the painting exactly as she wanted it.

Her idle imagination turned the log into a sea monster with countless tentacles. With sight and touch, she explored its roots for potential carvings whilst her smell and taste savoured the resinous aromas where the bark had been newly stripped by the surf.
The log must have been tossed ashore by the previous evening’s tide for the pine scent was refreshingly strong and the log had yet to be bleached and aged by sun and salt.

She settled comfortably in the fork of the log to wait. Here on the isolated beach she could escape her frustrating deafness. No rushing crowds or blaring traffic demanding her extra attention; just the sea, the rocks, the forests and the sky. Here in silence, her remaining senses were free to span their full spectrums.

She picked up a rare flat pebble and flung it as far as she could. If you could get it beyond the breakers then it might skip quite far over the oily swells. Normally her gentle female shoulders couldn’t throw beyond the breakers but her frustrations lent added strength to this particular effort. The pebble skimmed off the second breaker and curled like a boomerang towards the big rock. She followed its graceful arcing flight until it struck the brooding basalt mass with a sharp click. Emma jerked with surprise.

‘She had distinctly sensed a noise!’

She shook her head nervously and strained her useless ears but nothing came. Then she cursed silently for despite her deafness, she still knew what noise was.

Occasionally an infuriating tinnitus entered her head, reminding her of her cruel loss and usually accompanied by a disabling headache. This noise however was nothing like tinnitus. The sharp click had been quite clear and precise.
She had never had a sensation like it since her teen years and in the lonely morning mist it was an eerie experience.

Curiosity overcame her fear and she paddled into the swirling shallows behind the rock to recover the strange stone. Her efforts proved fruitless for the stone had submerged beneath the sand. She gave a soft grunt of disappointment.

From the fog a breaker slammed against the other side of the rock. Emma watched it as she had watched thousands of big waves until it crashed into her brain with a deafening roar. The sudden invasion of her brain caused her to momentarily stare with shock while clasping her hands to her useless ears.
The raw force of the new sensation caused her to stagger backwards into the rippling shallows just as the dying breaker surged around the rock and saturated her bleached jeans. She gaped mesmerised at the quicksilver foam as the sucking and eddying sounds mimicked what she was seeing.

‘There was no doubt about it! The sounds inside her head exactly complemented the waves.’

She stuck her fingers tight into her ears but still the sounds persisted.

Emma now became petrified with fear. She staggered to her feet as the next elephantine wave crashed against the rock and tossed white tusks of cold spray whipping through her flimsy summer blouse. The sheer volume and variety of sounds overwhelmed her senses and she let out an incoherent shriek of terror before stumbling towards her easel.

As she frantically gathered her things another sound entered her tortured brain. This sound though was much more haunting and terrifying, it was a voice!

“Help me!”

Emma let out a wail and crouched down in terror as she scanned desperately around the beach. There was nothing in sight yet the ghostly sound repeated itself inside her tortured brain.

“Help me!”

What terrified Emma was that she could somehow understand the message. She recognised the long-forgotten timbre of a human voice and she also realised by the pleading tone that the owner was in trouble. She banged her useless ears again then dug sharp fingernails into her ear-holes until she actually drew blood. Suddenly a hazy image drifted into her brain and she screwed her eyes tightly shut in a frenzied attempt to drive the hallucination away. Despite her desperation the sounds and the images persisted until she collapsed sobbing on the sand.
“I’m going mad.” She concluded.

“No. You’re quite sane. I’m behind the big rock. Please help me.”

Emma gaped at the ‘talking rock’ then raised her hands to reply before cursing her stupidity at trying to sign to a rock.

‘For God’s sake pull yourself together girl. There must be some explanation!’

“There is. I’m trapped behind the rock. Help me I’m dying.”

For a final moment Emma stared at the rock before the ‘sound’ made sense and the truth crashed into her brain.

‘There was somebody or ‘something’- trapped behind the rock.’

With this realisation came a more frightening one.

‘Whatever it was, it was somehow trying to communicate directly into her mind. No- not trying, for God’s sake - it was succeeding! It had read her thoughts!’

She sat rooted to the sand unable to decide whether to run or look behind the rock. Once again she pressed her head between her knees and thumped her ears in a confused effort to clear her mind. The sounds continued irresistibly.

“I won’t harm you. I’m stuck in the rock. My leg is jammed and it’s broken.”

This time a clear image flashed vividly into her brain.

It was a small body lying exhausted amongst the rocks trapped by a branch jamming its leg into a fissure. The meaning of the sounds became abundantly clear for the creature was an unearthly shade of blue.

“Who are you? What are you?” She signed with totally automatic finger work.
“You don’t have to sign unless it makes you feel comfortable. I can read your mind. I know you’re frightened but there’s no need. I won’t harm you.”

When the creature ‘spoke’ appropriate images entered Emma's mind clearly and slowly. As though the creature was talking to a lesser being. Emma’s thoughts turned to aliens.

“Are you human?” She demanded, as tales of alien abductions invaded her mind.

“Yes of course I’m human! For God’s sake help me! I’m in agony and the tide is rising. I’ll drown if I can’t get free from this crevice.”

“Who are you then?”

As she spoke an extra-large wave thundered against the rock and she sensed an agonising shock of pain in the creature’s mind as the surging water lifted its frail body and cruelly twisted the broken limb. Whatever it was or whoever it was, it was clearly telling the truth for the wave surged around the rock and sprayed Emma with its spent force. A dull groan accompanied the pain and although she felt no physical pain herself she could certainly sense it in the creature. Her sharp wits were slowly recovering and she began to think coherently.

‘If the creature could transmit pain it could certainly hurt her.’

The voice returned again, pleading for help.

“I wouldn’t hurt you. I sense you’ve got enough pain with your deafness.”

Emma gasped and shuddered inwardly. ‘The creature could definitely read her innermost thoughts.’ Nervous tension tingled down her spine.

Another wave crashed against the rock followed by the stabbing sensation of pain in her mind. Emma finally capitulated to the creature’s plea and climbed nervously onto the rock to avoid the waves.

She approached the other side of the rock slowly, ready to bolt like a rabbit at the first inkling of danger. Below her, but just above the watermark she spotted a childlike form crumpled amongst the rocks. Beside it was a broken branch clearly pinning the creature’s limb. Emma still couldn’t bring herself to think of it as human.

She peered cautiously around the horizon one last time searching for she knew not what, then she tackled the situation below.

She knew the tide was rising and the creature was definitely in danger of being drowned. It had not lied since its appearance in her brain and this finally made up her mind. She would try and help it. She found a stout branch and carefully climbed down to release the creature. As she worked with the branch to free the log she realised the creature was possibly human; a very small human but probably a large human child. Its deceptive bluish hue was caused by the cold.

The clothes were shredded by the waves and the grey face was etched with deep lines of pain. Emma could clearly see the smashed leg with exposed bone and horrendous lacerations. Even her crude medical knowledge could tell it was a very serious break and the bleeding needed urgent attention.. With her branch as a lever she finally managed to eject the log from the fissure and slowly lift the child – (for it clearly was human), - clear of the rock. The child gave a low moan and shuddered with shock as Emma struggled to drag it above the pounding waves.

She moved its bag then placed her hands under its armpits and started to pull until the body slid upwards with surprising ease. The child gripped its bag with desperate tenacity and through the torn blouse Emma determined its gender. The child was female for they were definitely breasts. As she looked closer she realised it wasn’t a child but a young woman or more probably an adolescent girl..

Having determined enough to conclude the being was not a danger, Emma set to lifting her clear.

‘Hell, she’s light!’ Thought Emma as she slipped backwards with unexpected ease.
“Oh! Ow! My bloody leg!” Howled the girl/woman as she slumped between Emma’s knees. Emma was shocked, frightened and yet pleased that this being could both talk and transmit her feelings.

Another wave slammed the rock and doused the pair with a force that lent added urgency to Emma’s efforts. Still shocked by the girl’s lack of weight she hoisted her clear and tottered back to her easel.

“Wait here.” Gasped Emma telepathically. “I’ll fetch the pickup.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I see you’ve stopped signing.”

Emma blinked as she suddenly realised her hands were not flashing away with signs.

‘My God! You’re right. What are you?”

“Please go and get the truck. I need a doctor.”

Emma was already sprinting up to her cabin set back upon a small rocky promontory amongst the trees. She returned and quickly hoisted the injured girl into the passenger seat before collecting her easel and paint. At the cabin she wrapped her in a blanket and placed her on some cushions by the stove. The girl was already unconscious and Emma realised she had little time. She put her by the stove to get warm whilst she prepared a bed in the back of the pickup. When she returned the girl’s, breathing was shallow and the leg had started to bleed again. Emma began to panic and started up the track to the town. After an eternity of bumping the injured girl was nearly at the end of her tether. Emma stopped at her friend Jacky’s cabin and tooted the horn urgently.

Jacky emerged and summed up the situation quickly.

“I’ll phone the doctor then I’ll follow you after I’ve finished here.” She signed as Emma gunned the engine and resumed her dash for help.

The doctor met her at the top of the track and swiftly stopped the bleeding before they dashed to the hospital. The injured girl was now deep in shock and Emma was left to fret outside the emergency room as they treated her.

Eventually the doctor emerged and wrote his words down for her convenience.

“He’ll live. He’s a young pre-op a transsexual. Do you know who he is?”

Emma tensed uncertainly. Fortunately, she had a very sharp, quick-thinking mind and her deafness gave her time to hide her shock. She had no idea who or what the transsexual was except that it was a telepath who had already brought Emma some amazing pleasure and convenience. Whoever or whatever this person was, Emma was saying nothing until she had learned more about its telepathy. A gift like telepathy was just too damned useful to a deaf girl. If the child couldn’t be identified she would adopt it. Carefully she scribbled a few brief words to hide her confusion.

“He’s from back east. I met him in the village. Bit of a strange one but very interested in art.”

“Very strange.” Wrote the doctor. “You should be careful who you befriend Emma.

This one’s a pre-op transsexual. There’s no knowing what sort of underlying problems there might be. He could be dangerous.”

“Well he doesn’t look dangerous,” wrote Emma, “there’s nothing of him. Besides, he’s more girl than boy; and a pretty feeble girl at that.”
“Yes. I suppose so. Well we’ll have to keep him in for observation for a few days. I’m afraid that’s going to cost you.”

Emma shrugged. Money worries would take a back seat if this girl – boy, was prepared to share with her the secrets of telepathy.”

Suddenly Emma remembered the bag in her pickup and she slipped away to double-check.
‘Hell!’ Thought Emma as she read the passport. The kid was a foreigner; a Brit named `IONA’ and if the passport was right he wasn’t a child. He was more than a girl!
He was a woman!’

Emma became confused as the questions flooded her mind. ‘Was she an illegal immigrant, if so what the hell was she doing up here? Why the hell was her passport listed as girl when the doctor said she was a boy? What the hell was going on?’

Brits didn’t usually enter illegally so should she tell the police? How the hell did a young British transsexual end up on the Oregon coast?’ Could she have come down from Canada or fallen overboard off a yacht?

In the waterproof box there was also a small locked section that was clearly meant to dissuade inspection. Emma hid it until later. If this girl, boy, woman, transsexual- whatever, was an illegal alien, the box and the telepathy warranted much more investigation. She hadn’t noticed a key or anything around the alien’s neck but then she hadn’t looked that closely.

She looked up to find her friend Jacky arriving and they quickly started signing away. Emma decided to lie a little to protect the alien until she knew more. She told Jacky and the doctor that he was a recent friend, a transsexual from back east. He had gone out walking then slipped and fallen down onto the rocks by the shore. He had been missing for nearly a day before she found him. She signed that the boy called himself Iona and lived as a girl. The doctor shrugged disinterestedly. He knew that Emma was a famous eccentric bohemian whose pictures were sought after the length of the West Coast. She was also very successful so money for treatment shouldn’t be a problem.

‘If Emma chose to have weird friends stay with her it was no concern of his. Provided the bill was paid he was content to treat the patient and respect confidences.’

After a few weeks Iona was out of danger and fit to leave hospital. Emma was forced to consider the cost of treatment. If her insurance wouldn’t cover it she was going to be stuck with the bill. She stayed at Jacky’s to be near Iona until she was fit to leave the hospital.. Once the Brit was mobile Emma took Iona back to her cabin after promising to sort the bill later. The doctor knew Emma was good for credit because her paintings were so successful. ‘Deaf Emma’ was something of a local celebrity.

Emma stopped at Jacky’s cabin on the way home to let her know she was back. Jacky acted as a sort of gatekeeper for the single track down to Emma’s cabin. A pretty but deaf mute was hopelessly vulnerable to unwanted visitors. She resumed her journey slowly down the track and Iona eventually ‘connected ‘again telepathically. It was the first time since the doctor had treated her and Emma felt the thrill of anticipation.

“Jacky’s worried about you.” ‘Whispered Iona.’

“I don’t need telepathy to tell me that. She’s always watched out for me. By the way what’s your second name. I don’t even know you.”

“Yes you do. You’ve looked in my passport.”

Emma cursed as she realised it was hopeless lying.

“OK then, I’ll keep calling you Iona. Can you read all my thoughts?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“There’s no need to apologise. It must be marvellous.”

Iona sighed wearily.

‘It was no use trying to contradict her. Emma would never understand.’

“It’s not all a bed of roses. I read the bad stuff along with the good. Don’t worry though, I’ve read a lot worse than that.”

Emma crimsoned with embarrassed shock.

“You mean-.”
“Yes. All your thoughts including those.”

“Shit!”

“And that one as well.” She sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m well inured to them by now.”

“This is going to get complicated.” Emma frowned.

“Not very complicated. I’m usually switched off. It drains my batteries.”

For a fleeting instant Emma thought Iona meant she was an android then she realised she was talking figuratively. She turned to look at Iona but realised she had fallen asleep. She seemed to sleep a lot and Emma put it down to ‘drained batteries. Glad to have a free mind she compiled a list of questions for when they got back to the cabin.

Iona woke with a grunt as the pickup bounced over the rough bed of the stream. The pain creased her face and Emma pointed to the painkillers in the glove box.

Iona wagged her finger in a ‘no-no’ sign and Emma studied her curiously. A feint wave of disappointment fricasseed through her body, as she wondered why Iona hadn’t used telepathy. Then she realised she knew zilch about telepathy.

Iona struggled painfully out of the pickup and drank in the view before casting her arm panoramically and making an ‘OK’ sign with finger and thumb. Emma nodded and tapped her temple inquisitively. Iona waggled her hand and gave a ‘sleeping’ sign to indicate she was too tired. Emma helped her into the cabin and sat her down before unloading the pickup. When she had finished Iona hobbled onto the porch with some coffee. Emma dug out some cookies and they settled on the porch as Emma signed that she wanted Iona to use telepathy.

‘Iona’ frowned and made another ‘sleeping’ sign to indicate she was still tired and wanted a bed. Emma ignored her and Iona was forced to use telepathy just to make herself understood.
“I’m exhausted. The hospital diet was normal but I eat much more. Food keeps my batteries charged.”

“There’s plenty of food in the larder. Just say and I’ll cook you something.”

“OK then, please, a full mixed grill.”

“What’s that?” Queried Emma unaccustomed to British figures of speech.

“Bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, black pudding, liver mushrooms, tomatoes, the works.”

“What sort of a meal is that? I thought you’d like a steak or something.”

“That as well if you’ve got it.”

“This is America. We’ve always got steak.”

“OK then whatever you’ve got. I’m easy but lots of it.”

Emma took this as something of a challenge and pushed the boat out a bit as she raided her larder. No bloody foreigner, especially a runty little Brit, was going to embarrass a ‘good ol’ American country girl’s cooking. As Iona polished off the plate Emma compared Iona’s undernourished frame with her diet.

“You look half starved.”

Iona shrugged as she hobbled to the sink and washed her dish then searched for a plate rack. Emma took it and placed it in the cupboard then fixed up some blueberry pie. Iona demolished this with equal alacrity.

“If you eat like that you’ll strip me clean. Where have you come from?”

It was the first direct question Emma had asked and the first time Iona appeared reluctant to answer.
“It doesn’t matter where I’ve come from, it’s where I’m going that matters. I’ll be off your hands as soon as this leg’s better.”

“That’ll take months. There’s food costs and a little matter of the medical bills.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll settle up as soon as I get to Seattle. There’s money waiting for me.”

“So who are you and what d’ you do for a living?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. Thanks for helping me. I’ll put you right as soon as possible. You won’t be out of pocket and I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

Emma felt a cold shiver at the idea of her leaving. Iona’s telepathy had become too dammed vital. Iona sensed Emma’s fears and changed the subject. She didn’t want to get stuck in that groove.

“Your cabin’s in a lovely spot, so sheltered yet so near the sea.”

“Yes it’s the inspiration for my art.”

“Much success?”

“You should know. You’re the telepath.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t reading your mind then. I know how irritating it is.”

“But you were communicating by thought.”

“Yes I know,” Iona replied patiently, “but I don’t read minds as a matter of course. That takes additional energy and I don’t do it to my friends unless they want me to. It’s rude to invade someone’s privacy uninvited.”

“So I’m your friend now, am I? I’m not sure I want a transsexual as a friend, people might talk.”

“You saved my life. I owe you my friendship. If you don’t want it I’ll get out of your life as soon as I can. I’m a transvestite, not a transsexual. Not that it makes much difference to most people. I don’t make friends easily but you did save my life.”

“So it takes that much to become your friend. You’re right, you don’t make friends easily do you?”

“I can’t win can I? I have to trust people before I reveal my true gender. You saw what happened in the hospital. They were more interested in my transvestism than my broken leg. I’d rather not talk about it right now. Where d’ you want me to sleep? I can tell you’re nervous.”

“There’s a spare bunk in the outhouse across the clearing,” replied Emma, “my guests usually sleep there in the summer. It’s not cold.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling really tired again. Can I go to bed now?”

“It’s only six o’clock, but if you must.”

Iona hobbled to the cabin and examined the bunk then telepathed across.

“I’ll need a blanket I think.”

Emma savoured the strange experience of ‘talking’ across such a large distance then queried Iona about it.

“I’ll bring you one along in a minute. How far can your telepathy reach?”

“I transmit about a mile and I can receive nearly three miles but it’s still developing.”

“You mean there’s more?”
“Yeah, lots.”

“Tell me.”

Iona did not reply and Emma frowned irritably as she folded the blankets then crossed the clearing. She studied Iona asleep on the bare sheet then wagged her head in bemusement, and gently draped the blankets over her before creeping away. That evening she locked her own front door for the first time in years.
The following day Emma woke Iona at noon for she had slept nearly eighteen hours round. Iona ate a huge meal and Emma frowned thoughtfully as she contemplated the food bill.

“I’m not abusing your hospitality.” Reassured Iona. “When I get to the bank in Seattle I’ll put you right.”

“Yeah but for now you’re eating me out of house and home. That’s three days’ worth of food you’ve just packed away.”

Iona felt a guilty twinge and resolved to make for the city before the end of the week. She helped wash the dishes then followed Emma into her studio where she stored her art materials. An unfinished picture caught Iona’s eye.

“D’ you know anything about art?” Asked Emma over her shoulder.

“No. I’ve never studied it.”

“I suppose you’re a scientist or something with that telepathy.”

“I’m nothing. I never finished college, in fact, I never ever went to college.”

“Are you going to tell me about yourself.”

“You won’t be happy until you’ve found out. And I suppose if I owe you my life, then I owe you my story.”
“It would be nice and I’m going to have to know a lot more about this telepathy before I’m comfortable with you. Is there any way I can close my mind off to you?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Iona replied absently as she studied the picture.

The casual way she responded made Emma realise Iona had been telepathic a long time.

“Most of my life.” Iona replied then instantly apologised as she sensed Emma’s annoyance at having her mind read.

“Sorry about that. We were still communicating and I didn’t think.”

“Apologies accepted. Who else knows about your telepathy?”

“Only you and a couple of others back home.”

“Who? Your mum and dad?”

“No. I never really had a father and my mother died in a car crash.”

“Oh I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

“It’s a long story. We’d best sit on the porch.”

With satisfaction writ large on her face Emma settled on the porch swing and patted the seat beside her. Iona declined her offer and settled on the boards with her splinted leg stuck out in front.

For the rest of the afternoon Iona talked but left out large chunks about the violence and deaths in her life. If she was seeking a new start, the bad stuff was best left untold. It seemed that everybody around her ended up dead or endangered. Death seemed to follow her like an angry shadow.
‘This Emma was too sweet and innocent to be tainted by that side of her past so the sooner she moved out of Emma’s life the better.’

As the sun set Emma sighed wearily and after another huge meal Iona hobbled to the outhouse and slept again until the following noon. Emma decided that the routine suited her needs perfectly. She could work at her paintings in the mornings and late evenings when the summer light was at its kindest. Iona could entertain her during the long summer afternoons.

After a week her supplies ran out and she was forced to visit the town. Iona accompanied her and phoned the bank in Seattle. As expected, there were documents to sign so she asked Emma to run her to the bus station.

“I’ll drive you to Seattle if you wish. The trip would be a break.”

“It’s a long way. Are you sure?” Queried Iona.

“If it means you can sort out my medical bills, yes.”

Iona shrugged her shoulders and Emma left a note for Jacky at the store. The following morning they arrived in Seattle and Emma accompanied her into the bank.

Emma was watching Iona signing papers and the manager fawning around her when the robbers burst through the door.

Iona quickly hit the floor as gunshots exploded and the robbers screamed at everybody to get down. Emma’s deafness made her slower and her tardiness attracted their attention. One of the gang seized her roughly and held the barrel of his gun to her head as the others swept up everything they could find. A security guard tried to move and was promptly butchered as the drug-crazed gang screamed obscenities at anything that looked like moving.

Iona was scanning frantically but their drug induced frenzy made it hard to get much sense from the robber’s minds. Her unfamiliarity with guns also left her helpless for even if she did disarm one she had no idea how to use a gun. The robbers waved machine pistols and Iona started scanning everybody’s mind in a desperate effort to find a person who knew how the dammed things worked.

Eventually she located a Vietnam veteran spread-eagled behind a large counter and she managed to catch his eye. An intense scan revealed that the man realised he was in position to overpower one of the robbers but he couldn’t be certain what would happen to the girl who was a hostage. Iona glanced significantly towards the robber holding Emma and nodded imperceptibly towards the veteran who quickly got the gist of the plan. He would disable the lookout whilst Iona would distract the hostage taker. By the time the other three robbers emerged from the vault the veteran hoped to have them cornered. It was a desperate plan.

Iona read the veteran’s mind and they rose as one. Each robber tried to warn his crony and subsequently lost the initiative as they were simultaneously attacked from behind. Iona used a telepathic punch to cripple her adversary and simultaneously faked a karate chop to disguise the real destruction.

The veteran however got into trouble owing to his distance from his target. The robber had squirmed free and was just bringing up his machine pistol as Iona saw the danger.

With no time to spare she released a telepathic thunderbolt that blasted every mind in the bank foyer. Its force slammed robbers and customers alike and everybody collapsed en masse. Iona hobbled around the floor snatching up the two guns to confront the vault raiders. She tried one gun and made a deafening line of holes in the ceiling as a stupid look of surprise crossed her face.

‘It was too bloody easy!’ She thought as she cautiously handed the other gun to the dazed recovering veteran.

“Jee’ze girl! D’ you know how to handle those things?”

Iona wagged her head and gaped stupidly as the adrenaline subsided

“No I haven’t a clue. Here, you’d better have both of them.”

“Don’t worry kid. It’s on fully automatic. Just point it at the door to the vault. They’ve got to come out sooner or later.”

“Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not. I’m going behind that pillar to get a spread of fire and pin them down. What the hell did you do?”
“What d’ you mean?”

“How the hell did you knock everybody down?”

“I didn’t.” Lied Iona.

“Well what disabled them?” Look they’re only beginning to recover.”

“Hell I dunn’o. Lookout! I saw something behind the vault door.”

Even as Iona spoke the same movement caught the veteran’s eye. With well-practised skill he released a short warning burst to the robbers inside the vault.

Iona felt a tap on her shoulder and her finger tightened involuntarily. She loosed off two accidental rounds into the woodwork before recovering her cool. Tensely she turned to face a terrified bank teller.

“Christ! Don’t do that. I’m edgy enough as it is.” Squeaked Iona.

“Let me get to the counter.” Urged the teller. “I can contact the police.”

“Hell I’d have thought the bloody noise would have warned them. Be my guest. Just watch the bloody bullets.”
“If the police come in here with guns blazing they’ll shoot anybody holding a gun. It’d be best if we can tell them what’s happening.” Emphasised the teller.

Iona’s face paled as she grasped the teller’s meaning.

“Get on that bloody phone quickly.”

The teller crawled behind the counter, picked up the phone and within minutes a posse of police arrived to take charge. The veteran explained the situation and pulled out his sheriff’s badge as Iona crept away to join a terrified Emma vomiting in the car park.

Iona wanted to disappear but the veteran corralled her and recognised Emma as the deaf artist. He tapped her shoulder and slowly mouthed his question as he signed crudely.

“Hey! Emma! What brings you to the big city?”

Emma turned and smiled her recognition then turned helplessly to Iona for translation. Iona panicked for a moment then telepathed her warning to Emma.

“I’ll pretend to sign. Nobody’s to know I’m telepathic.”

Emma nodded and signed her answer as Iona read her mind. Iona responded with some vague phoney hand signs and turned to the veteran to talk normally as she smiled to garner friendship..

“I’ll translate if you want, Emma’s lip reading has deteriorated from lack of use and your signing’s pathetic.”

The sheriff smiled and wagged his head.

“Living in that isolated cabin I suppose. She should get out more.”

“Who are you anyway?” Asked Iona as she extended a belated hand of friendship.
“Peter McCormack. I’m Emma’s local sheriff. I sometimes go berry picking near her cabin in the fall. I’ve met her and her friend Jacky a few times on the beach. I’ve even had coffee with them at Emma’s cabin. Who are you?”

“Iona, a friend of hers. I’ve been staying in her outhouse and we came to Seattle on business.”

“Oh yes. Her friend Jacky mentioned you. Broke your leg didn’t you.”

“Yes. Stupid of me, I fell onto some rocks.”

“How is it?”

“Well as you can see. It’s still in plaster. It’s stopped hurting though.”

“You did bloody well back there in fact you were quite remarkable considering that leg. The city police lieutenant wants a statement off you.”

“Do I have to? There were enough witnesses.”

“Yeah but you’re the hero. And you did let off a gun. Best go and speak to them now before the bloody press arrive.”

Iona cursed silently then returned to give her statement and complete the paperwork at the bank. With her brave action and the huge sums involved she was made most welcome and inevitably somebody mentioned her name to the press. When she emerged again she was confronted with a barrage of cameras and questions. The damage was done. She searched desperately for Emma and saw Pete the sheriff guarding her from another crowd of pressmen. Somehow they had discovered Iona’s connection to Emma. In the confusion outside the bank all she could hear was pressmen calling her name. ‘Miss Evans! Miss Evans?’ Eventually Pete arrived and waved his badge authoritatively to rescue her.
“The police will give you a statement. This lady is recovering from shock and exhaustion and I’m taking her to the hospital to be checked out. You can see she’s carrying a previous injury.”

Iona was about to protest but quickly recognised Pete’s tactic to get them away. She made a play of her broken leg and limped away to Pete’s four by four. She saw Emma already gunning the engine of her pickup in readiness to follow and they finally escaped the mayhem. Once out of town they stopped at a diner and Pete queried Iona’s actions again in the bank.

“What did you do back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Protested Iona defensively.

“I want to know. You were the only one left standing after that deafening, thumping shock thing. It left everybody stunned so I reckon you had something to do with it. That punch you gave the robber didn’t carry any weight in it either. Are you some sort of martial arts exponent?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Persisted Iona. “I saw you sizing things up so I decided to follow your example.”

“And disabled a hardened bank robber with a tickle on the neck. Then the other guy who’s got the drop on me suddenly collapses in front of me and everything goes black for a few seconds.” Emphasised Pete disbelievingly.

“I had to do something. Emma was being held hostage.”

“Is she special to you?”

Iona suddenly felt nervous. A quick scan revealed that Pete had previously made passes at Emma but she had rejected them on the grounds she was deaf. Apparently Emma was afraid her children might be deaf so marriage and children was out of the question.
“I asked is she special to you?”

“Wha! What! N- No. I sleep in the outhouse. I’ll be gone when this bloody leg’s better.”

“Where are you from? Emma’s never mentioned having a British friend.”

Fortunately Emma had returned with some extra coffees and Iona opened up her telepathy. They would have to get their stories right so as she spoke to Pete, she telepathed her words simultaneously to Emma.

“I- I met Emma recently. I liked her art and bought a picture. After I complimented her on some excellent stuff she invited me down to look at the rest of her work. I was thinking of buying some more pictures. Emma wants her work to be recognised more widely abroad. That’s what the business at the bank was about. I was sorting out some foreign exchange. I’m from Britain but I’ve been living in New York.”

The last part clinched it. Before the robbery Pete had seen Iona busy with some papers and spotted Emma standing at her side. Pete was about to say hello to Emma when the robbers had burst in.

The whole story sounded plausible and Pete never thought to check Iona’s passport. Iona realised she would have to sneak into Canada and get a proper entry visa before any other inquiries were made.

They finally returned to Emma’s small town and Iona was able to settle up all the outstanding bills. The next day the headlines broke and Iona cursed as Jacky came bouncing down the track waving the papers from her cab.

Iona studied the lurid accounts and sank into depression.

‘Greenhorn Brit girl saves the day! Never used gun before!’ Blah, blah, blah.

“What happened?” Signed Jacky.
Emma’s hands flashed away as she related the story and Jacky’s jaw sagged. She turned to Iona demanding an account but Iona waved her hand dismissively trying to avoid the issue.

“I think she’s embarrassed at being the hero.” Signed Emma.

Iona had little time for telepathy. She was glumly thinking of the consequences.

‘If British intelligence were still looking, this would do her untold harm. Perhaps America had been a wrong choice after all.’

The girls studied Iona’s narrow back as she stared absently out of the doorway and they exchanged uncomprehending glances.

“Surely she would be pleased to get a reward for there was bound to be one.” Signed Jacky curiously.

“I don’t think the money bothers her.” Replied Emma. “She’s pretty well strapped from what I could gather at the bank. The papers I saw carried lots of noughts and the manager was poncing about like a pratt. Grovelling and smarming like she was some sort of royalty.”

“Is she rich then?” Flashed Jacky.

“I’m sure she is. The bank staff started fawning and scraping when she opened that box. They don’t usually do that to foreigners.”

“What’s in the box?”

Emma shrugged and signed the words.

“Papers. That’s all, just papers.”

“Have you seen them?” Pressed Jacky.
“Only a couple as she put them on the desk. It was like Chinese writing.”

“D’ you think she’s a spy?”

“Who for; China? With those eyes and natural platinum blond hair; she doesn’t look very Chinese does she?”

“You can never tell. Maybe she’s a disaffected Brit.” Suggested Jacky.

Emma remembered Iona’s account of her childhood and suddenly became suspicious.

‘Maybe Iona did bear a grudge against her old country.’

She had nothing to thank them for. One thing Emma did know was that America and Britain had been allied a long time. If Iona was working for China she was no friend of America. Emma glanced at the Iona’s back as she continued staring unconcernedly towards the sea then she motioned silently to Jacky as she picked up a knife. Jacky followed her lead for she was quite a tall strong girl and Iona’s size was no threat.

Deep in thought about where to go next, Iona felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned despondently to find two knives at her throat. The shock turned her face grey and she tripped backwards over the doorstep to strike her head against a heavy stone flowerpot on the porch.

The girls cursed as the blood trickled from her scalp.

“She’s out like a light.” Cursed Jacky. “Still. It’ll give us a chance to look in that box. Look, there’s her key. It’s buried down that cleavage pinned inside her bra.”

Emma removed the key from Iona’s bra and they trotted over to the outhouse. They opened the box and Jacky quickly scanned the papers. She worked as a partner in a firm of accountants and she let out a curse as she realised the writing was Japanese. As realisation spread across her face she signed her discovery to Emma.

“She’s got accounts in a Tokyo bank. Look, these headings are in English and Japanese. Christ just look at this! She’s no spy; she’s as rich as bloody Croesus!”
Emma studied the figures and smacked her hand to her forehead to demonstrate her stupidity. They swiftly closed the box and rushed back to check on the unconscious Iona. When they got there she was gone.

“Shit! Where is she now?” Signed Emma agitatedly.

“She’s probably done a runner.” Grinned Jacky.” I would with two mad knife-wielding women after me.”

“She won’t be far with that leg.”

The dull click of a cocked shotgun suddenly made Jacky’s blood run cold as Iona appeared from the kitchen.

Slowly the girls raised their hands as they recognised her nervousness and remembered her incompetence with guns. Iona was doubly nervous because the blow had disabled her telepathy. Until that returned she was keeping the girls under guard so she said nothing and just motioned the gun barrel to make them sit.

Emma glanced significantly at Iona then tried to make a telepathic connection. She failed miserably and slumped disappointedly as Jacky exchanged a questioning frown. Angrily Iona waved the heavy barrel to silence them. Until she could read their minds she was desperately vulnerable. The girls cowered on the seats.

Jacky glared at Iona furiously as the heavy gun wobbled menacingly in her hands.

“That bloody thing ’ll go off if you’re not careful.”

Iona just stared silently. If she spoke, Jacky might have to sign to Emma and there was a danger they might hatch a plan. Without her telepathy, Iona would not know what they were planning. While she had the two of them under the barrels of the gun she felt secure. She edged towards the table and settled on a kitchen chair with the gun resting across table. Then she eased her throbbing leg and felt her bleeding scalp wound. The lump was already swelling and she winced at its tenderness. Her blouse was already a gory mess and the odd droplet of blood was staining the wooden floor.

“That needs attention.” Observed Jacky trying to ease the tension.

Iona remained silent and glanced towards the threatening barrels as she reached to the kitchen roll and took a generous helping of tissue. As she nursed her head the first inklings of telepathy returned so she settled in the chair.

She had never consciously measured its recovery before so he glanced at the clock to time it. Eventually she completed scanning their minds and relaxed as she pointed the gun through the door and gingerly extracted the shells. She decided to avoid telepathy to spite Emma.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” She asked Jacky but already knowing the answer.

“We thought you were a spy. Emma saw the foreign writing on your papers.”

“And?”

“We wanted to make sure. We didn’t expect you to slip and fall.”

Iona sighed inwardly at the girl’s inherent parochialism. Neither of them had ever been abroad, in fact neither of them even had passports. She wagged her head as the girls stood up nervously then she hobbled over to the sink and started washing her injured scalp. Emma tried to help but Iona turned away dispiritedly and she felt a stab of pain at her rejection. Iona spoke again to Jacky.

“Tell her I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m able and I’ll settle up the bill. I’ve no doubt you poked through my papers. You’ll have seen that they’re all in order.”

“This isn’t a bloody hotel. She helped you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“And I paid her handsomely for it.”
“Is that all you’re interested in; paying your way? She saved your life.”

“And I saved hers!”

“Where!”

“At the bloody bank. She was being held hostage; they’d already killed the guard.”

Jacky pulled up short for she had not completely read the whole story. She turned and signed furiously to Emma who nodded dumbly but refused to sign a reply. Her actions served to exaggerate her muteness and Jacky became frustrated by her friend’s intransigence. She turned to Iona again but she waved a dismissive hand and hobbled painfully across the clearing to the outhouse. There she collected her meagre belongings and started painfully along the track.

Emma suddenly realised what was happening and signed frantically to the swifter more athletic Jacky who quickly chased after Iona.

“Where the hell d’ you think you’re going?”

“Away. I won’t be a bother to you anymore. I’ll wire the money.”

“Emma wants you to stay.”

“Oh I’ll bet she does.”

Jacky missed the irony completely.

“No. Honestly, she desperately wants you to stay.”

Iona wagged her head and pressed on determinedly while Jacky returned to the cabin. After some more frantic signing they leapt into Jacky’s pickup and bounced after Iona. She hadn’t got far and they found her sitting on a log massaging her thigh.

“Get in. You’ll get nowhere with that leg and no crutches.” Ordered Jacky.

Iona ignored them and looked away.

“Look! It’s bloody miles to my cabin and miles more to the road. This is big country and there’s bears in those woods.”

“Bullshit!” Snapped Iona and hobbled angrily off as the girls watched frustratedly.

“She’ll kill herself if she tries to reach the road.” Signed Emma desperately.

“So Let her bloody well kill herself.”

“I didn’t save her just to let her die.”

“So what’s so important about her? A runty little British dwarf.”

“She’s not a dwarf!” Signed Emma angrily.

Jacky grinned as she studied the hobbling form.

“Well, she’s a bloody elf or pixie or something. Just look at the skinny little SOB.”

Emma thumped angrily on the dash to stop the RV and then she flung the door open before the skid had stopped. Jacky watched as her friend scampered after the Brit and tugged at Iona’s arm. She lost her balance and slipped in the mud as Emma continued remonstrating by hand signs.

“Why won’t you use that telepathy thing?”

Iona’s ankle was hurting like hell and she cursed as she crawled on all fours to another rock beside the track.
“Fuck you! You stupid Bitch.” She snarled audibly, more for Jacky’s benefit. Emma however clearly read his expression. She wavered nervously for a second then thumped the rock angrily.

“I’m not letting you go. I need you!”

Iona turned away to stare up the track as she sneered.

“I’d rather die here than trust you again.”

Emma sensed victory. Iona had used telepathy again.

“You’ve got a broken leg, a split scalp, a sprained ankle and it’s getting dark. You will die if you don’t come with us.”

Iona fell silent again. She was in a real jam and without their help she probably would die. She cursed the whole damned mess and thumped the rock in frustration.

“Just take me to the bloody road. I’ll hitch a lift or something to Seattle.”

“You can’t travel like that. Nobody’ll give you a lift with blood all over your blouse. Come back to my cabin.”

“Not bloody likely.”

“It’s my cabin or nothing.”

Suddenly the horn tooted as Jacky stared uncomprehendingly at the pair. Both Emma and Iona suddenly realised they must have cut a peculiar figure exchanging expressions and mannerisms without apparently moving their lips. To cover their blunder Emma suddenly started signing but realised she was compounding the error. To try and hide the mistake she made a few meaningless passes with her embarrassed hands. Angrily she shook her inarticulate fingers and cursed as she motioned Jacky to come forward. The truck lurched forward and Iona reluctantly clambered in.
“What the hell was going on just then?” Demanded Jacky.

“Nothing, just take me to the highway.” Snapped Iona as she crudely signed her wish.

“No. We’re going back to my cabin!” Signed Emma.

Jacky agreed with her friend Emma and they reversed until they found a turning space. Iona couldn’t escape she was jammed between them. When they arrived at the cabin Iona stayed moodily silent and sat in the cab until Emma produced her crutches then she shuffled painfully to the outhouse and slumped on the bed. They left her alone throughout the night but Jacky agreed to stay with Emma in case anything untoward happened. The following morning her ankle was better and she asked Jacky to take her into town.

“I’ve got to get away from here. It’s doing my head in.”

“Were will you go?” Demanded Jacky.

“Seattle. Like I said yesterday. I’ll wire you some money.”

“Emma doesn’t want you to go. What is it with you?”

“Nothing. She must be lonely or summat'. Maybe she should find herself a good man or something.”

Iona sensed Jacky go tense and a brief scan explained her attitude. Jacky had stronger feelings for Emma than simple friendship. Iona wasn’t surprised or annoyed. Of all the human conditions she had encountered, homosexuality was the least likely to bother her. On Iona’s personal Richter scale of antipathies it rated a big fat zero. After a brutal childhood of terror and depravity in care homes and lunatic asylums, homosexuality was no more unusual to Iona than discovering that the sky was blue or rain was wet.

Iona clumped awkwardly onto the porch and another brief scan ascertained that Emma was completely unaware of Jacky’s affections. She shrugged disinterestedly and squeezed into the gap by the stove as Emma plonked a huge breakfast in front of her.

Jacky gaped at the heaped plate.

“Good God! You’re not going to eat all that!”

“What I eat ’s my own business. I pay her for it.”

As Iona spoke, she also telepathed her thoughts for Emma’s benefit but Jacky hadn’t signed her original words so Emma was surprised by Iona’s sudden telepathic announcement. She turned to stare at him then she glanced at Jacky and ordered her to sign.

Jacky stared at her before realising that Emma had had her back to her as she spoke to Iona. There was no way Emma could have known that she and Iona were talking. Iona realised she had made a stupid mistake. She had never worked with a deaf person before and there were a thousand pitfalls to avoid if she wanted to keep her telepathy a secret. She glanced significantly at Emma and ‘told’ her that she was ‘closing down’. Jacky could act as an interpreter between them. Emma frowned impatiently and tapped her temple demandingly. Jacky watched the interplay as curiosity then incomprehension clouded her face. She had never seen or understood what ‘tapping the temple meant’.

“What’s with it between you two? What does this mean? -She tapped her temple-. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Emma’s throwing a wobbly.” Mumbled Iona with her mouth full.

At these muffled remarks Emma exploded in anger and slammed the hot pan down on the stove. The splashed oil ignited and the next moment a fireball engulfed the pan. Emma squealed with fear and Iona struggled to extricate herself from behind the table. Only Jacky showed any presence of mind by soaking a towel under the tap.
She calmly draped it over the burning pan until the flames subsided then turned to confront the pair again.

“Right! I’ve had it with you two. What the hell’s going on?”

Iona maintained a stubborn silence whilst Emma nursed the burn on her wrist. Jacky’s question went unanswered. It wasn’t forgotten though and Jacky stored it up in her memory to tackle Emma at a suitable time. Iona shuffled off to the outhouse to sulk all day and Jacky left for work on Monday. During her Monday lunch break she met Pete the sheriff and discussed the bank robbery.

Pete mentioned the peculiar events and his suspicions about Iona. Fortunately Jacky kept her silence but was slowly putting two and two together. Pete’s story, Emma’s obsessive possessiveness about Iona, and her own experiences of the strange tense silences between the pair set Jacky thinking.

‘There was more to this Iona than met the eye.’

During that week, Emma explored the world of telepathy and with each new discovery her needs and possessiveness increased. Distance, accuracy, and emotion were all factors that lent themselves so readily to Iona’s gift but the biggest by far was intimacy. This reached a climax on the Wednesday. Emma had expressed her fears about Iona’s unearthly ability to dig as deep as she wished into her mind and her subsequent suspicion about Iona’s intentions. To regain Emma’s trust Iona finally allowed her into her mind and she laid bare huge areas of her psyche. Some doors however remained firmly closed and Iona explained why.

“There’s stuff in there Emma that you don’t want to see. Stuff I came across in the hospitals as a child, what I saw, what they did to me.

It’s all seriously sick stuff and about seriously sick people like criminals, murderers and paedophiles. It would only frighten you and resurrecting it would hurt me. It’s best you don’t see it.”
Despite these restrictions Emma still found herself in a vast field of new experiences and after drinking her fill she reluctantly left Iona’s mind as weariness overtook her in the small hours. As Emma yawned Iona stood to go but Emma tugged at her blouse possessively.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I think it’s best. It would complicate things.”

“What would?”

“What you’re thinking.”

“Dammit! Is nothing sacred?” She cursed. “You’re really a man aren’t you? You said you were heterosexual.

“Yes. And I’ve heard those words before.”

“Where?”

“Back home in the old country.”

“Did you have a girlfriend there?”

“Once. A million years ago.”
“What did she think about you? How did she handle your telepathy? What did she think about your transvestism?”

“She didn’t mind the transvestism. She was an abused victim as well and she didn’t like men. She accepted me as I am, tits and all. She didn’t know about the telepathy.”

“What! You didn’t tell her?”
“No. I had to keep things simple. Telepathy was new to me then and I was still feeling my way.”

“So you knew everything she was thinking but she had no idea. That was a bit cruel wasn’t it?”

“On the contrary. It was the kindest thing I could do. She was a child patient in the same hospital as me and she had all sorts of problems, childhood abuse and stuff.

If she knew that I could read her mind she would have cracked up. Our relationship was more a support thing than a love affair.”

“Have you got a picture of her?”

“There’s no need to be jealous. She had far more problems than you. She had been raped systematically as a child and her whole life was one big foul-up. She was a prostitute the last time I heard.”

Iona had lied about Sandra’s final life choice to prevent any more inquisition.
Emma flinched at Iona’s penetrating accuracy then scolded herself for her own self-pity. Ever since the onset of her deafness, Iona had reckoned deafness to be the worst of disabilities because it cut you off from people but now she had learned that a damaged mind was far worse.

Iona’s telepathy at least had taught her that. Deafness made it difficult to communicate. Insanity made it impossible to relate.

“I’d still like to see a picture of her.”

“I haven’t got one. If I was caught they would easily recognise her and they might take her kid.”

“Kid?”

“Damn! I wasn’t thinking. Her child: - our child. I wasn’t going to tell you that.”

“Because I was thinking of asking you for one?” Finished Emma.

“It wouldn’t work,” protested Iona, “children need fathers and I can never stay around.”

“Is her ‘kid’ telepathic like you?”

“Yes.”

“So if I had your child, it could be telepathic too.”

“And then it wouldn’t matter if it was deaf.” Finished Iona.

Emma stared guiltily at the floor. ‘There was no escaping Iona’s telepathic reach.’

Iona felt sorry for Emma.

“I don’t blame you,” soothed Iona. “Every mother wants the best for their child.”

“It’s only natural. My deafness is hereditary so I daren’t risk an ordinary relationship.

It’s not fair to inflict it on a child knowingly. Anyway you’ve said how lonely it is being a telepath. Wouldn’t you want a brother or sister for your other child?”

“He’s already got a half-sister but I don’t know if she’s telepathic.”

“So there’re two of them!” Gasped Emma.

Iona nodded guiltily.

“Right! Then I definitely want your child.”

“For you or for America?”
Emma gulped again. Even the briefest nuance of a thought could not slip by.

“It’s no good Emma. That’s what drove me away from Britain. They always think you’ll automatically work for them but I can’t allow myself to be a nationalist. If my gift is to be used by anybody then everybody must use it. Everybody on the planet that is. There’s just too much evil about for it to be otherwise.”

“But we’re not evil, we’re a democracy. You know that.”

“So is Britain but that didn’t stop them. There’s evil and mistrust everywhere.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped as she picked at the burn scab on her wrist.

“You don’t think much of Mankind do you? Do you see us as apes?”

“No. And that argument’s been used before as well.”

“By who?”

“My psychiatrist.”

“But you don’t want to help us.”

“How can I? How can one small girl work for the whole planet? They never just want to use me they always want to abuse me, or rather my powers.”

“And that’s your final word.”

Iona fell silent. She’d been over the same arguments hundreds of times and never come up with a satisfactory answer. Wearily she picked up her crutch and headed for the outhouse. It looked like another night of doubts and confusion. It seemed that whenever she got near to people the same old arguments reared their ugly head. All she wanted was to be left alone, to do things her way and find a way through the black wall.
To move steadily nearer the comfort of the grave and to embrace death with its sweet release. There finally to find Dumb Michael in that great, unknown beyond. There didn’t seem to be much left for her in this world.

The following morning they went into town shopping and the storekeeper mentioned that the sheriff wanted to see Emma. She put Iona off in a bar and drove round to the county office where Pete welcomed her in and started writing notes.

“Some strangers were looking for your cabin.”

“Who?”

“Dunno. They were Brits though. They had Limey accents.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing. I suspected they were something to do with that Iona you’ve got staying. They were sniffing around the bars and stuff but this is a small town and you’re well liked. I don’t think anybody told them anything. They all know you like your privacy and folks around here respect that. They know you’re vulnerable”

“What were these Brits asking about?”

“The bank robbery and that connects you to Iona.”

“Do they know where I live?”

“No but I alerted Jacky. She came to me the other day about your relationship with this girl. She was curious about the bank raid; you know that mental thump thing that knocked us out. I think she suspects Iona. I tackled Iona about the scream but she denies everything.”

All this took a painfully long time with paper and pencil and it was lunchtime before Emma met Iona again.
“It’ll be them- MI6 again.” Sighed Iona. “I’ve been waiting since the bank robbery and the press report. They’ll be watching your place if they think there’s something connecting us.”

“They’ll have to get past Jacky.” Scoffed Emma.

“Not everybody uses cars Emma. These bastards will walk miles across broken glass if it suites them. There must be a hundred trails through the woods and these guys know all about woodcraft. I think it’s best if we part company now.”

A cold lump settled in Emma’s breast at these words and Iona sensed it.

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own safety. Fortunately I’ve got my papers with me. If they find me they’ll go all out to get me dead or alive. They’ve been waiting for their chance for years. The farther I am away from you, the safer you’ll be. Just take me to the bus station. I’ll be able to scan if they’re there.”

Emma cursed silently as she turned into the bus station. She watched Iona buying a ticket and wondered what she could do to make her stay: - at least until she had a child by her. Depression set in as she watched the Seattle bus pick its way onto the highway then she sighed deeply and set off home. She stopped at Jacky’s for a chat and told her about the pursuers.

“What do they want her for? If she’s a criminal they’d only have to tell the immigration authorities and she’d be on the next plane out.”

“There’s more to it than that. Apparently she’s special.”

“Go on.” Pressed Jacky, anticipating Emma’s revelation.

“I can’t say. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Try me.”
Emma hesitated then decided to let it remain secret. She finished her coffee and clambered into her pickup as Jacky stood on the track silently fuming at having got so near to the truth. When Emma got to her cabin she was stunned and frightened to find that it had been carefully turned over. Iona had been right. What was worse was that there were no tyre tracks so the perpetrators must have arrived and left on foot. A helicopter would have been far too noisy and Jacky would have certainly mentioned it. Afraid to stay alone in the cabin she returned to Jacky’s and spent the night there before calling on Pete the sheriff the following day.

“So they’re still around here then?”

“They must be.” Replied Jacky. “It’d take a day and a night to reach the cabin and back by foot. It’s almost forty miles round trip and it’s rough going in parts. There were no footprints on the track so they must have crossed rough country.”

“Well the obvious place is by the old sawmill. They could go the first ten miles down the river then cut over the ridge. That’s where we’ll start.”

As expected they found recent tyre tracks and footprints at the mill. Somebody had done exactly as Pete had suggested. They had made good time however for it was
obvious they had been and gone. Emma signed to Jacky.

“Iona said they were professionals. What’s that crack regiment they have?”

Jacky turned to Pete and translated.

“The SAS.” Replied Pete. “They’re like our Green Berets. Anyway they’ve gone and so’s our friend. She must know how to look after herself or they’d have caught her long ago.”

“She’s injured for God’s sake!” Snapped Jacky. Where’s she going to run?”

“I suspect she’ll head for Canada. She said she’d have to get a proper entry visa.”

Jacky gaped at Emma as surprise registered on her face.

“What! Is she an illegal?”

Emma nodded and stared guiltily at the floor as Pete stared at her in amazement.

“How did she get to your place then?”

Emma explained everything except the telepathy and Pete fell silent as he considered the problems. ‘The best thing Iona could do was go to earth in Canada.’

Mindful 2
Chapter 2
Déjà vu.
After safely crossing into Canada Iona acquired an entry visa. She was able to show that she had funds to support herself and that she had ample means to return to Canada so the formalities presented little problem. Once back in the USA, she settled near Seattle airport. This enabled her to keep telepathic tabs on any international comings and goings. To avoid boredom she found a casual job with a freight outfit and used the local delivery trips to scan the area around Seattle. As her leg healed and her health returned, her telepathy steadily gained range. After several months she could reach five miles again. This put a huge circle of safety around her during local delivery trips with her van.

Telepathy confirmed that they were still looking for her and they knew more about her. Worse still, her passport needed renewal so she knew they would be looking out for her when it eventually expired. She decided to apply for permanent immigration and debated becoming a Canadian or American citizen. She plumped for American nationality purely on the basis of it having weaker links with the old country. She had no trouble demonstrating she could support herself with commodity trading so the process was set in motion. All she had to do was lie low and await the naturalisation procedures. The freight job kept her one step ahead of her pursuers and she simply kept moving home if they got too close. As her reputation for reliability got established she was given more responsible work until she worked on transcontinental and international trips into Canada and Mexico. There was the odd curious glance at a girl driver with a British passport but no trouble. Regular border guards got to know and like her.

In Mexico she had a stroke of luck. Telepathy informed her that they weren’t very alert in the British Embassy in Mexico City. They had not updated the embassy’s annual blacklist and she managed to renew her passport. Ecstatic with success she returned north to the border with her shiny new book tucked safely away. Despite this, she continued with the naturalisation process and it was a good thing that he did. Several months later she detected her pursuers again.
Angrily she scanned their minds and cursed them for their tenacity. Fortunately her U.S. Passport had arrived and the law better protected her. The Mexican government did not take kindly to having American visitors attacked by foreign European agencies.
Iona detected her pursuers at the border and quickly decided to scotch their plans. She immediately topped her fuel tanks after clearing customs and barrelled her way south.

The truck was well equipped for long hauls and she left them behind as they were forced to stop for fuel. She met them again returning north. She had chosen a different return route but they were watching every border crossing. This time she knew they would be prepared and it would be difficult to shake them off on the wide-open U.S. highways. They would even be able to use private helicopters in the liberal U.S. skies.

She had one surprise in store for them however, for she had paid to have her truck modified in Mexico. An extra tank was fitted that would give her transcontinental range. This was common practice in Central America where fuel prices fluctuated enormously.
At the border she phoned the depot in Seattle to warn them of problems then she parked right under the noses of the border police to gain their protection. The cargo was an expensive load of medicines and had involved considerable customs time.

Customs and immigration had come to know Iona well. They were alert to the dangers to her load and they willingly let her park close. Iona savoured the chagrin in her pursuer’s minds.

She warned the police that her valuable load was a target for a gang of truck hijackers so she gave a confidential explanation of her route and expected arrival times. The police surveillance combined with her virtual non-stop run north stymied her pursuers again. Her success couldn’t last forever though. Now they knew her work, it was only a matter of time. Even her new citizenship status would provide little protection against their determined efforts. The only solution was to lay a trap and expose them to the U.S. Authorities without revealing her telepathy.

It was a slack winter season so she arranged a short leave and visited Emma. Early the next morning at the entrance to Emma’s private road she paid her respects to Jacky the gatekeeper. Jacky was naturally suspicious and accompanied Iona to Emma’s in case there was some danger to her friend. They found her on the beach collecting driftwood for her art.

Iona was disappointed to read Jacky’s resentment at Emma’s obvious joy at but it was more than compensated by the rare opportunity to practice her telepathy again. Once again the uncanny silences antagonised Jacky and after a couple of hours Jacky signed her suspicions.

“Is there something special going on between you guys?”

Iona knew of her suspicions but Emma became nervous and defensive.

“What d’ you mean?” She signed.

“I’ve noticed you seem to know what each other wants before you show it. Is there any truth to what Pete the sheriff said about the bank raid thing?”

“Emma’s hands remained still as she and Iona exchanged thoughts.”

“Should we tell her?” Emma asked.

Iona considered Jacky’s feelings and sexual orientation then hesitated. Emma needed warning before Iona dropped that bombshell. She cautioned Emma to take it slowly and give her time to prepare the ground. Jacky became angry again at the silences and stalked out of the cabin. She was making for her pickup as Iona caught up with her.

“Jacky don’t rush away yet. Emma’s got problems and I’m helping her with them.

She’ll need your help soon so please stay. It’s important.”

“Is it about the bank raid thing?”

“Partly.”

“Jacky’s curiosity extinguished her anger and she argued on the track before returning to the cabin.”

“So there is something to what Pete said!”

Iona read Jacky’s mind to determine just how much Pete had suspected and how much he had told Jacky. There were parts missing and it would take care to fill Jacky in without damaging Emma and Jacky’s friendship. Jacky’s sexual orientation was going to prove a dangerous hurdle. Iona’s cognitive silence almost confirmed Jacky’s suspicions so Iona denied it no further.

“Later Jacky, later. Let’s eat lunch first.”

Iona had allowed Emma to monitor the conversation and she quickly re-laid the third place at the table. Jacky returned to the cabin to find Emma relaying her place and stared thoughtfully at the arrangement before signing her friend.

“How did you know I was coming back?”

Emma tapped her nose knowingly and smiled. Nervously Jacky settled in her usual chair and studied Emma’s slender graceful back as she lifted the stew off the stove. Iona caught Jacky’s eye and raised a silent cautioning finger to prevent any more questions. They ate in silence as Jacky mulled over forthcoming revelations and Iona exchanged thoughts with Emma. Finally Iona spoke for Jacky’s benefit.

“I’d like to speak to you alone on the beach Jacky. Are you happy about that?”

A twitch of fear tingled down Jacky’s spine but Iona was a tiny slip of a girl and therefore posed no threat. She signed to Emma who confirmed that Iona was ‘perfectly safe’. Thus encouraged Jacky agreed and the pair went to the beach while Emma cleared away the table.

As they rounded the rock where she had been trapped, Iona spoke softly.

“That rock is the start of all my troubles.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t fall off the cliff path. The waves flung me into that cleft in the rock. Emma was
painting on the beach when she found me.”

“How.” Asked Jacky as she watched the weltering surf pounding the reverse side of the rock. “She couldn’t have seen you unless she was in the water.”

“I called for help.”

For several seconds Jacky missed the significance until she remembered Emma’s deafness. As she realised the impossibility of Iona’s words her suspicions began to root deeper. Iona followed her thoughts and nodded wearily as the light finally dawned in Jacky’s eyes.

“You can, can’t you?” She whispered nervously.

“Perfectly.” Replied Iona audibly as she followed Jacky’s thoughts.

“What is it? How does it work?” Pressed Jacky, still whispering as though in some sort of sacred place. She felt like a novice in a church. Iona interrupted her thoughts.

“It is a church Jacky. It’s God’s own church. Just look at the magnificent sacred beauty of it.”

Again Jacky failed to grasp what had happened for several seconds before realising that Iona had recognised her private thoughts about churches and sacredness.
Jacky was by no means a religious girl. She had been hounded out of her family’s Southern Fundamentalist church as a teenager because of her sexual orientations. It had left her bitter and suspicious of religion forever. But now; somehow, this strange enigma of a girl, this tiny elfin little Brit, had exposed her to a spiritual experience that left her speechless.

‘You read my thoughts!’ Jacky gasped inwardly.

“I did indeed. There’s no need to worry. I’m not going to harm you or betray you.”

Jacky looked down at her with tearstained worried eyes then whimpered nervously.

“You didn’t speak then did you? You didn’t use words.”

“No. I transmitted my thoughts. I am telepathic. There’s no need to speak, just think your thoughts.”

Jacky’s brain log-jammed with emotions and fright as she tried to gather her wits. Silence descended as Jacky’s confusion swamped her reasoning.

“Don’t worry, I can wait all afternoon.” Telepathed Iona. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

“But you know. You know about my-.”

“Your lesbianism. Of course I know about it. Why should that worry me?”

“But-. “

Jacky fell silent as she slowly realised Iona wasn’t disgusted or curious. Somehow telepathy conveyed Iona’s feelings and demonstrated that she wasn’t offended. It was like meeting a saint.

‘Here was a girl who wasn’t angry or disgusted by Jacky’s dirty secret.’ Jacky’s fears took her reasoning further.

“How long have you known?”

“Since you demonstrated your fears for Emma after my accident. Oh; and by the way, I don’t think of you as ‘dirty’.”

“Thanks. But all that was months ago.” Muttered Jacky thoughtfully.

“Gosh! As long as that! My how time flies.”

“And-, and you’ve never told her.” Gulped Jacky.

“No.”

Jacky fell silent as she searched for some ulterior motive, some lever or device that Iona might use to control both of them.

“Why should I wish to control you; or Emma for that matter?”

Jacky gulped again as she realised Iona had read her thoughts again.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this in the cabin?” She demanded already anticipating the answer.

“Emma doesn’t realise your feelings for her. D’ you think she would share her bed with you again if she knew?”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“No. That’s entirely up to you. If you wish to communicate to her via my telepathy she might find out.”
Jacky fell silent again as her mind raced. Even if she didn’t want to use telepathy with Emma, it was certain that Emma would want to use it with her. Suddenly she recognised the other conundrum.

“Hold on a minute. Emma’s not telepathic!”

“No but I am. I can operate my telepathy like a telephone exchange.”

Jacky gulped again at this new revelation then her thoughts raced on as she gradually realised why Iona was on the run.

“So that’s why those British agents want you back. You disabled those people out in the bank. You could be their secret weapon!”

“That was an exception Jacky. Emma was in serious danger. I had to disabled those robbers.”

“But you can knock people out with whatever it is inside your head.”

“Yes. But I don’t like it. I don’t like hurting people. That’s why I’ve come here to get away from Emma. I don’t want any leaks to hurt her.”

“So my secret’s safe then.”

“With me, certainly; but if Emma wants to communicate with us via telepathy then she could find out.”

“Why?”

“That’s always the case. As soon as people use my gift, they want to learn everything about me and anybody else who’s sharing our thoughts. It’s the nature of the telepathic beast I’m afraid. People are terribly nosy. It’s all about truth, no matter how painful.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about people and telepathy.”
`Iona gave her a dumb look and Jacky mentally kicked herself as she realised the fatuousness of her remark. Then she giggled stupidly to relieve her embarrassment.

“Do you want to talk to Emma?” Pressed Iona. “She’s itching to talk to you. I can’t offer any guarantees.”

“Are there any alternatives?”

“Three as I see it.” Observed Iona.

“That’s nice,” gasped Jacky with relief, “tell me what they are.”
“One. You go ahead with telepathy and take a chance.
Two, you let me break the news to Emma gently. I have no idea what her reaction will be but she seems a very forgiving sweet girl to me.
Finally, three; you don’t use telepathy and carry on signing.
I don’t think Emma will like that. She’s come to depend on my telepathy when I’m around.”

Jacky thought hard then chickened out and landed Iona with the second option.

“You tell her. Please do it gently.”

“OK. It’ll have to be straight away though. I can’t guarantee her reactions.”

Jacky shrugged resignedly. ‘In for a dime, in for a dollar.’

Iona appeared to fall silent until Jacky realised she was communicating with Emma right there and then from the beach. She swallowed silently as the minutes ticked by and the surf rumbled behind her. Eventually Iona turned and smiled softly.

“She was a bit shocked but I’ve managed to convey the emotional side.”

“What d’ you mean?”
“Lesbian love isn’t just about sex is it? It’s the whole woman thing, emotions, caring, everything. Telepathy allows me to understand all that. By the way, I’m not all I seem to be.”

“Go on.” Replied Jacky nervously.

“Well I’m not exactly what I appear to be. Under this skirt there’s a transvestite.

Biologically I’m a boy. My telepathy is connected to my transvestism. It uses all my brain, that is both hemispheres, more like a woman’s brain than a man’s. My brain is cross-wired even better than a woman's is. That’s why my telepathy picks up so quickly on emotions.”

Once again Jacky mentally kicked herself.

‘If anybody could understand how intensely emotional a lesbian relationship could get, it would have to be a transvestite. Normal men were such greedy selfish demanding brutes. To Jacky they had always seemed almost totally physical and one sided in their relationships. This runty little Brit, this telepathic transvestite was something entirely different. The ‘two-sidedness’ of the creature’s brain explained everything.’

“Not all men are brutes Jacky,” protested Iona as she defended her biological gender, “and I’m not a creature either. I’m human just like you.”

“Well that’s how it seems to me. Telepathy doesn’t seem human.” Jacky mumbled defensively.

“Well I suppose we’ve all got crosses to bear. It’s pointless arguing now. Come on,
Emma’s waiting, d’ you want to talk to her?”

Jacky swallowed nervously again. Things were moving a bit too fast.

“OK I can wait.” Replied Iona comfortingly.
Jacky felt a surprised twitch of gratitude at her concern. ‘This guy really was different from other men. But then he would be, he was a telepathic transvestite.’

“I’m not sure I can face her.” Mumbled Jacky.

“You won’t be facing her. We can do it right here on the beach.”

“What! It’s almost five hundred yards. How big is this telepathy thing?”

“Five yards, five miles, what’s the difference?”

Jacky’s jaw sagged again at this new revelation, and then she selected the coward’s way out and chose to do it from the beach. Iona smiled as she spread her hands generously.

“That’s the beauty of telepathy. You’ll be able to discover exactly what Emma feels without having to face her. Once you know, you’ll be able decide if you want to see her
again.”

“Or if she’ll want to see me again.” Countered Jacky suspiciously.

“She does, trust me on that one. Are you ready?”

Jacky nodded nervously. Before her head had finished nodding Emma was calling urgently.

“Hello! Hello! Jacky? Jacky! Are you there?”

Jacky didn’t recognise the stranger’s voice and panicked for a moment before Iona intervened like a telephone operator.

“I’m sorry girls. I forgot to warn you. You don’t always sound like your real voices. It’s a mental thing and your voices tend to be affected by your own preconceptions. It’s like hearing yourselves for the first time on tape.
I sound like me because I’m so familiar with my own tape as it were. It’s difficult to explain especially as you’re not facing each other. Emma, prove it’s really you by touching something in the kitchen and Jacky will tell you what it is. She won’t sound like Jacky when she replies but then your deafness precludes you that anyway.”
Emma touched the wall clock and Jacky instantly described it. The impasse helped to break the ice and they were able to tackle the more vexing question of Jacky’s sexuality. Their emotions and feelings were conveyed vividly by telepathy and both girls were left exhilarated by the encounter.

As they ‘talked’ Iona and Jacky returned to the cabin and many emotional tears were spilt. Eventually Iona was forced to shut down for the effort had exhausted her. The girls had explored every facet of their own personalities and quite a lot of Iona’s. Jacky was stunned to learn of Iona’s childhood.

“I thought my childhood was bad.”

“You only saw the bits I let you to see. Same as I did with Emma.”

“Is there worse then?”

“Lot’s. It would send you both mad, especially if I relayed it telepathically.”

“Oh tell us please.” Begged Emma. “By ordinary speech if you have to.”

“No.”

“You don’t trust us.” Accused Jacky.

“Of course I trust you. I’ve shown you my telepathy haven’t I? I’m just protecting you.”

The girls fell silent as Iona prepared to leave for her outhouse for the evening. She read both their thoughts and grinned.

“You can sleep here tonight.” Offered Emma nervously glancing towards Jacky.

“And where will Jacky sleep?” Demanded Iona. It’s cold in that outhouse at this time of year. It doesn’t affect me I’m used to the cold.

Emma rarely had visitors during the winter and the outhouse had no heating. It was getting dark and the track was slippery from the rain. She couldn’t expect Jacky to drive home in these conditions.

“I’ll sleep on the settee.” Suggested Iona. “I’m smaller than the both of you so you two can share the bed like you’ve always done.”

The tension became electric until Iona sighed.

“Look you two. I thought telepathy would have sorted out the sexuality thing. Surely you’ve got no qualms about carrying on as you always have.”

The girls exchanged nervous glances before divulging their aspirations. Emma ‘spoke for both of them.

“We thought you might want to be a father again.”

“I know you did. I’ve been reading that thought in both you’re heads since you finished your coffee.”

“Will you then?” Asked Jacky hopefully.

“You’re being naïve. You’ll be ostracised from here to hell and back, especially you Jacky. This isn’t the big city. Small town people can be very narrow about lesbian parents.”

“D’ you think I don’t know that.” Scorned Jacky.

“Of course you know about it. I was just repeating it for Emma’s sake.”
“So you’re not saying no.”

“No. Not yet anyway. I’ve never been judgmental but you must understand the problems. Things are going to be bloody difficult for you. What happens when your children start reading adult thoughts in your minds? If you think telling your children the truth is hard just think what it will be like having telepaths for children. You’ve no idea what it’ll involve.”

Iona wagged her head as she weighed up the options then smiled softly.

“Never mind, at least they’ll each have a telepathic sibling and you two will at least know about telepathy when they start hearing voices. Those voices don’t come across as people’s thoughts for years you know. Their brains have to mature and stuff before they begin to make sense of the voices. It’s terrifying if you don’t understand and there’s nobody to explain. As a child I had nobody and that’s what messed me up. It made me completely crazy for years and years as a kid. It’ll never be easy for you as non- telepathic parents and I won’t be around to help.”

“You didn’t seem so worried when you gave that Mary woman your baby.” Charged Jacky.

“Mary is a very intelligent and highly qualified psychiatrist.”

“Well what about the other one, Sandra? You said she was a complete misfit, just like you. A prostitute for God’s sake!”

“That was a mistake. I didn’t know I had made Sandra pregnant. And she’s not a misfit; she’s a very loving girl and she’s very bright. Her father was a maths professor and her mother was one of his favourite student’s. What Sandra didn’t know; she could quickly assimilate. Anyway, Mary took all that in hand.”

“We’d like to meet this wonderful Mary woman.” Added Emma.

“I can’t agree to that. It would give British Intelligence a lead on my British children.
It’s too dangerous. It would endanger your own children and my British kids.”

“Oh so you’re going to give us children are you?”

“This is not some sort of school prize-giving.” Snapped Iona impatiently. “Children are precious, they need years of care and these will need extra care. I’m warning you it won’t be easy. The only thing I can do for them is provide money. I did it for my children in Britain.”

Iona sensed their sudden realisation about childcare costs and grinned ironically to herself. Neither Jacky nor Emma had considered that aspect until she had brought it up.

“Where d’ you get all your money from?” Asked Jacky.

“Commodity and share trading. I read the minds of the most successful traders and copy them. It’s not illegal. I just use the skills I was born with. It won’t take me long to build up a fund for the babies.”

“Well you’d better get started then.” Giggled Emma provocatively.

“What! You want to go three in a bed.” Replied a shocked Iona.

“It’s every man’s dream isn’t it?” Grinned Jacky. “With telepathy, it should be a very interesting experience. Anyway you’re not really a man are you? Just look at those breasts.”

Iona wagged her head and frowned with confusion. Americans never ceased to amaze her. They could be so uptight about some things and unbelievably liberal about others.

“You do realise you’ll be exchanging each other’s fantasies.”

“We’ve exchanged nearly everything else.” Grinned Emma. “It’ll be interesting to explore those.”

“God help you two. Whatever happens, I won’t be sharing my fantasies.”

“That’s not fair. Are you afraid or something?” Demanded Jacky.

“Hell yes! God alone knows where my fantasies take me and there’s no controlling them. Some of them are disgustingly ugly. Don’t forget I was brutalised as a child. I’ll be the biggest disappointment you’ve ever had in bed.

Emma smirked before pointing out – “how would I know, I’ve never had anybody in my bed, I’m a virgin.”

“Ha! The same goes for me, - at least as far as men go!” Jacky added.

Iona frowned then warned them.

“Believe me I will disappoint you!. Mary told me after her experiences. I function like a machine and there’s no emotion. I don’t have any chauvinist conceit about sexual prowess. I know I’m useless as a lover in bed. However, my dick functions, and it will eventually make you pregnant but that’s about the sum of it.”

“So you’ll get us pregnant.” Pressed Emma hopefully.

“That side hasn’t failed so far.”

“That’s all I want. If my baby’s deaf at least it’ll be able to communicate.”

Iona felt a wave of sympathy as she read Emma’s fears.

“Ok then. Here goes nothing. You two go and get ready.”

Emma exchanged a nervous glance and Iona caught her drift.

“All right then. I’ll go first and you two can join me.”

As she undressed, Iona reflected on the ludicrous irony of a dysfunctional psychopathic transvestite being considered the moral guardian in a ‘ménage a trois’. Then, as she lay in the dark and the girls crept in either side, she began to feel vulnerable.

“D’ you want telepathy?” Iona asked.

Both girls agreed enthusiastically and Iona completed the full connection.

“Right, be prepared for some shocks.” She cautioned.

The whole process proved to be less traumatic than Iona anticipated. Emma and Jacky’s fantasies turned out to be quite modest and certainly nothing as remotely shocking as the horrors Iona had encountered in her childhood. As Iona expected, the night proved mechanically successful but she was slightly surprised to find that the telepathic links served to amplify the girl’s emotions. The subsequent ‘three-way feedback’ affected her feelings. Their fantasies served to conjure up some of her own long buried perturbations and then exorcise them. The perverse experience proved peculiarly therapeutic and Iona met the dawn unexpectedly refreshed. When she telepathed these findings to the girls they giggled victoriously and set about her with renewed gusto. Her responses proved sensationally satisfactory and after surfacing from another wild bout she lay back to reflect on events.

The girls clambered out of bed and bathed while Iona concluded that she might at last be learning to enjoy real emotional relationships. They returned bearing breakfast and settled on the bed beside her to share the food and experiences.

Emma had even found Jacky’s lesbian interest in her to be acceptable at the emotional level and reached across to hug her friend. A tear escaped Jacky’s eye as she read
the understanding and compassion emanating from Emma’s psyche.

Jacky’s earlier doubts about Iona’s telepathy had evaporated with each new sensation. It seemed so unfair to Jacky that Iona, a male transvestite should be blessed with telepathy when womanly sensations like emotion and passion travelled so exquisitely along its wires. Nevertheless she was more than grateful that she could share those feelings so intimately with Emma albeit via Iona’s ‘telephone exchange’.

Emma in turn, stretched across to hug Iona for having freed her from the cruel isolation of her deafness then she reached again to squeeze Jacky for sharing in the secret and extending the net. Eventually Jacky had to go to work but she vowed to return that evening despite the additional hours of driving. They agreed that Iona should stay until both girls had conceived then she would have to run again. It was two months before their pregnancies were confirmed.

During this time Iona’s pursuers had not been idle. They had broken into the freight office and established that she intended to return to work in the spring. They also learned that Iona used hotels and trailer parks like a high-class gypsy, always moving and always watching. Armed with this information they increased their manpower and commenced a long patient surveillance campaign by ‘tapping illegally’ into the city’s CCTV surveillance cameras set up around the city. Their patience and efforts were rewarded soon after Iona returned to work.

Instead of staking out the freight yard they had patiently tapped several surveillance cameras around the city and carefully monitored events from several miles away. Iona did not detect anything for they worked when she was out of town. She only became aware that they were preparing to strike when one over-enthusiastic agent got too close.

Iona had just loaded her rig and made a desultory scan, which unexpectedly revealed the agent’s proximity and alerted her that they were still in Seattle. With a curse she blasted the truck out of the yard and barrelled up the highway to Vancouver. Fortunately it was a busy highway and they had no opportunity to attack but Iona realised if she did a transcontinental haul she would be vulnerable. In Montana there were long lonely stretches of road on route to Chicago.

The attack came exactly as she had expected as a helicopter appeared from nowhere. A tired Iona suddenly became aware as the powerful spotlight announced its arrival and the rotors clattered overhead. After recovering from the fright she realised that the passengers were loaded for bear.
The attack was too predictable and she sighed inwardly after realising they had stubbornly refused to learn their lessons. She had avoided them peaceably for years but still they kept coming, greedy and relentless.

‘Maybe, just maybe; one last lesson might drive the message home.’ Iona hoped.

She leaned out of the cab and screamed at them to leave her alone. It was a stupid act for it amused them and they contemptuously sprayed the road ahead with heavy machine gun fire. Iona’s blood ran cold as she spotted the eruptions in the tarmac and recognised the heavy calibre of the weapon. Pete had taught her a bit about guns since the bank robbery.

‘Right!’ She cursed. ‘If they wanted to play rough-!’

She stopped the rig and sat expectantly in her cab until the chopper approached within telepathic strike range. They had obviously forgotten the lessons of the Scottish military prison for the chopper approached and hovered about two hundred feet above her as a megaphone ordered her from the cab.

Carefully she stepped down and moved far enough behind the rig until she was certain the chopper would not crash onto her truck. Then she waited as the chopper approached. She scanned the pilot’s mind then, as the rotors trimmed to make a final approach, she let go a monumental telepathic blast.

The pilot let out a squeal of pain and pawed desperately at the agonising destruction in his brain. The helicopter span once then tilted and plunged earthwards.
Iona heard the screams but she was already dashing towards her rig and safety. There was no knowing what condition the men were in and she certainly wasn’t staying to find out. Two things were certain, the pilot was dead and the helicopter would never fly again.

As she gazed in her mirror she wondered how long before such a huge fireball would alert anybody. ‘Thank God Montana was such a lonely place!’ She reflected.

After an hour’s driving she still hadn’t sighted a police car or any emergency vehicles. The agents had invited their own nemesis by attacking in such a remote and lonely place.

By dawn Iona felt she was clear but she pushed hard for the state line.

The following day the papers reported the helicopter crash and she was chagrined to discover that one of the agents had survived. The cause had been ascribed to the pilot suffering a cerebral haemorrhage.

‘Dammit!’ She thought. ‘She should have double-checked. When British intelligence debriefed the survivor they would re-learn their lessons and act accordingly.’

She was right. Their next attempt proved even more determined. A missile was launched at her rig from a range of over three miles. Fortunately she had detected them telepathically and managed to stop the truck behind a rock as the missile approached. Nevertheless several nearby vehicles witnessed the explosion and it caused consternation. For Iona this proved to be the final straw. The police became involved and her boss finally began to have suspicions.

“Is the mob after you or something? Have you offended the Teamsters union or something? What is it with you girl? A bloody missile strike for Christ’s sake!”

“I’m sorry boss. I’ll hand in my notice if you like.”

“You bet you will. The trouble is your one of my most reliable drivers. If you can get these crazy scabs off your back I’ll be more than happy to have you back but I can’t afford the risks to my trucks. A missile strike! I bloody ask you, here in America!”

Iona was forced to agree with her boss and she left the yard in her own pickup checking intensely for any watchers. There were none nearer than five miles and that gave her ample time to get clear. A slow circuitous trip with frequent scans and diversions finally brought her to Emma’s cabin. Despite the dangers she felt compelled to see the girls and their babies for one last time before travelling on. Without declaring her arrival Iona saw the two buggies beside Emma’s easel as she worked.

‘Had she really been away that long?’ Iona asked herself.

“Is it twins then?” Iona telepathed.

The distant figure span around dropped her brushes and squealed with delight as she recognised the diminutive figure by her porch.

“No, one of them is Jacky’s. She’s at work.”

Iona trotted down the path and Emma flung herself into her arms with desperation born of months of telepathic deprivation.
“Why haven’t you called?” She asked accusingly.

“Too busy. They’ve located me again so I’ve got to leave.”

Iona sensed Emma’s bitter disappointment and squeezed her tight. There would never be any proper compensation for Iona’s telepathic absences until the children grew up and shared their gifts. As Iona thought of the children she released Emma and peered into the prams.

“Whose is whose? They could be mistaken for twins.”

“Natasha is mine and Rachel is Jacky’s. It’s your hair and eyes that does it.”

Iona read the decorative labels on the prams and smiled as she hoisted one with each arm and smiled at Emma. Emma raised a questioning eyebrow and Iona wagged her head.

“It’s too early to tell yet. They have to be able to talk before I can be certain. Language helps them form their thoughts. I’m pretty certain they will be though. Telepathy’s a dominant gene. I was experimenting with its heredity when I was kidnapped the first time.”

“That’ll be another year. I can’t wait that long.”

“Sorry love. I can’t stay around to help. They’re on to me.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“No. I took precautions.”

Iona’s precautions would have sufficed for an ordinary searcher but Iona had yet to realise just how determined her pursuers could be. It had now become a matter of pride that they should capture her and all the stops were being pulled out.
The agents went back to the drawing boards and investigated every possible thread in their efforts to relocate their prey.

One important source was the electronic banking system. Iona’s accounts held vast sums for she had added to them whenever she visited New York or Chicago and traded the markets. They traced her down to Oregon via some withdrawals from a bank in Portland. From this they decided to take a long shot and see if the deaf girl was still a factor.

They learned that Iona had visited the girl soon after the missile affair so they decided upon the ‘homing pigeon’ strategy. Kidnap the hen and persuade the cock to come looking. It proved easy to capture Emma but alerting Iona proved almost impossible. She had moved to New Orleans and ceased trading on the markets.

It was almost a month before Iona learned of Emma’s kidnap and even then it was by pure chance when she found a police mystery magazine in a hairdressers. Emma’s disappearance was described in detail with an account by Jacky of how she found the ransacked cabin. Both mother and her baby were gone.

Pete the sheriff had contributed to the article by describing the strangers who had been in town immediately before the event. Iona’s mood hardened as she read the article and realised it was the homing pigeon ploy.

What was worse was that Natasha’s Blond hair and turquoise eyes would give away her parentage. Within three days Iona was back in the Oregon and contacting Jacky by telepathy whilst she worked in her office.

The telepathy startled Jacky until she realised what was happening then she went to the window and spotted Iona in the diner across the street.

“Are they watching me?” Jacky asked telepathically.

“No. There’s nobody about. They expect me to come searching and then reveal myself. Where’s Rachel?”
“In a crèche down the street. She’s quite safe, they don’t know about either of us.”

“Good. I’ll meet you after work. I’m going to see Pete.”

Jacky waved as Iona moved from the diner window and disappeared before her eyes. She had never seen Iona use stealth before and for a moment she thought Iona had hypnotised her. Then she spotted her driving off the forecourt and realised she had simply slipped out through a back door. In the sheriff’s office Iona met Pete and came up to speed on events.

“Yeah it was definitely them. I think they had British accents though God knows where from. I didn’t realise you guys had so many accents in such a small country.”

Iona nodded as she debated revealing her gift to Pete. The man would be a splendid ally and he was the law after all. She scanned Pete’s agile mind and decided to reveal her gift. Things had come to a desperate pass.

“D’ you trust me Pete?”

“I should do. You saved my bacon in the bank.”

“Good. If I told you something important could you keep it under your hat?”

“If it’s legal. Yes. Is it to do with Emma?”

“Yes. They have taken her as a hostage to provoke me.”

“Why?”

“That’s the nub of it. I want your solemn word that you’ll not reveal this to a soul.”

Pete studied Iona’s face trying to anticipate what was coming.

“If it’s legal I’ll promise to do the best I can.”
“That’s good enough for me. D’ you remember the Bank thing?”

“Will I ever forget?”

“Well it’s to do with what happened there.”

Pete’s eyes narrowed as things began to fall into place.

“You did have something to do with that shock business didn’t you?”

Iona nodded slowly and turned to stare out of the window before talking. She turned again to face Pete who was leaning back expectantly.

“It’s true. I do, um- I have certain abilities.”

“Go on.” Encouraged Pete.

“Are you ready for this.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Get on with it.”

“I’m telepathic.”

Pete studied her thoughtfully through narrowed eyes before speaking softly.

“You’re not bullshitting are you!”

“No. Close your eyes and think of something.”

Pete did as asked and Iona entered the familiar routine of divulging her extraordinary
power. Pete was quickly convinced.

“So that’s why they want you back. They think of you as a military weapon.”

“They think I’m theirs. They see my British passport as a title of ownership.”

“But you took out American citizenship didn’t you?”

Iona nodded and produced her U.S. Passport. Pete studied it curiously and read the entry concerning naturalisation.

“So you’re still sort of on probation according to this.”

“Correct. That’s why I need you.”

“Fill me in then.”

“If I acted on my own there would be blood all over the Oregon, including Emma’s and Natasha’s. I’d lose my citizenship. There’s just too many of them for me to tackle.”

“What. You mean you want me to gather up a posse?”

“I don’t think that’s possible. They may be out of state.”

“Then we’ll need a federal marshal.”

“I’d rather not. The less dust that’s kicked up the better. I don’t want my telepathy being bandied about all over the States. Your own government would become curious then.”

“Our government Bill. You’re a Yankee now.”

“OK then, our government. I still don’t want anything put about. They’d be no different from the Brits.”

Pete was a decorated Vietnam War Veteran and his eyes had been opened wide by the experiences. Despite being sheriff he held government at arm’s length.
His opinion of the military was even lower. After having endured some of the imbecilic rednecks in the officer corps, the very expression ‘military intelligence’ was to Pete an oxymoron.

He sensed weariness in Iona that paralleled his own feelings about governments and generals. Nobody wanted Emma safe again more than Pete.

“How d’ you intend to get her back? We don’t even know where she is.”

“I’ll find out. They want me to find out. They think they’re playing me like a puppet on a string.”

“I think they might be.” Observed Pete.

“That’s as maybe. Whatever the outcome, we’ve got to save Emma; and Natasha.”

“Iona’s referral to Natasha as an afterthought set Pete thinking.”

“Is Natasha telepathic? “

“Yes. She’s in greater danger than Emma.”

“Well I’ll be buggered. Who’s her father?”

Iona stopped short as she realised.

‘Of course dammit! Pete didn’t know.’ Only the truth would do so she drew a long slow breath and fixed Pete in her gaze.

“Uh, you’d better get ready for this one.”

“What d’ you mean? Are there more bloody secrets?”

“Yes, and this one is going to come as a surprise.”

“What is? Get on with it Iona!”

“Well I’m not all I seem to be.”

“I know that. Telepathy.”

“No. There’s more than that. What are your feelings about gender dysphoria?”

“What? Transsexuals and things?”

“Yes.”

“So long as they don’t disturb the peace, I treat them the same as anybody else. Or at least I try to.”

“D’ you object to them?” Pressed Iona.

Dunn’o really. I’ve never had much to do with them. This is a small town so they invariably move to the city to be anonymous amongst their own kind.”

“What if one moved back here? From the city as it were.”

“What are you getting at Iona? You’re going round in circles.”

Iona paused and spoke softly.

“I’m gender dysphoric Pete. I’m genetically a male.”

Pete’s eyes narrowed disbelievingly.

“Come off it Iona! You’re a girl. Everything about you is-.”

Iona interrupted.

“It’s not Pete. I’m Natasha’s father.”

Pete flopped down into his chair and gaped at the delectable female form. She was so delicate and petite that Pete had never considered Iona to be anything but a girl. Iona spoke again.

“My brain is more female than male. The telepathy uses all parts of the brain and my brain is cross-wired like a woman’s. However, I’m still a heterosexual transvestite. I can function in bed as well as any ‘normal’ man. Emma wanted a telepathic child.”

“Good God! I didn’t think Emma could be that mercenary.”

“That’s not really fair Pete. She’s always been terrified of having a deaf child. Telepathy would obviate any deafness. I allowed her to use me.”

“How did you know the child would be telepathic?”

“It’s a dominant gene. Like Homo Sapiens’s ‘Eve out of Africa’. I was researching it as a student once. I was a top grade veterinary student before I was kidnapped the first time.”

Iona knew about Pete’s amateur interest in anthropology. He subscribed to the idea that Cro-Magnon man had evolved from one or two rare anthropological ‘sports’ millions of years ago in Africa. It was akin to the early New Zealand Maoris having possibly all sprung from one female surviving oceanic traveller a thousand years ago.

“How do you know that it’s a dominant gene?” Quizzed Pete.

“It’s a long story.”

“So others must know about this telepathy thing.”
“Apart from these bastards who kidnapped Emma, yes, there are one or two. They’re not around though. Can you come down to Jacky’s cabin tonight? I’ll be there for a couple of days.”

At the mention of Jacky Pete had another disturbing thought. He suddenly remembered the similarity between Rachel and Natasha and Iona.

“Is Rachel yours as well?”

“F’ raid so. Same equation. Jacky wanted a telepathic baby as well.”

“So that solves the mystery. Everybody in town’s been wondering who their father was. It’s obvious now, those eyes and hair. They suspected the babies were related; same father and all. People were beginning to think Jacky was batting for the other side.”

“I’m surprised the bastards didn’t kidnap Rachel as well. How come they missed the similarity between the kids?”

“Jacky was away staying with her Aunt when they came hunting.”

“I thought she hated her relations. Aren’t they a bunch of fundamentalists or something?”

“Oh not all of them.” Grinned Pete as he topped up the coffee. “It’s her parents and siblings she hates. I’ve met this particular aunt. She’s the liberal one and Jacky gets on with her. This aunt will let the rest of the family know about Jacky’s baby.
You’d be surprised just how their perspectives will change when they learn that they’ve got a grandchild. They’ll probably try a reconciliation but I don’t think it will work. Jacky is far too wounded by her childhood.”

Iona said nothing. She knew all about destroyed childhoods and she wasn’t going near that subject. If baby Rachel averted suspicions about Jacky’s sexuality amongst the townsfolk, then it was OK by Iona. She bid Pete farewell and met Jacky outside the crèche.
Pete arrived for dinner and the three discussed plans until midnight when the sheriff was forced to leave. Tomorrow promised to be a long day. After waving Pete goodbye, Jacky invited Iona into her bed. Iona frowned uncertainly.

“I thought you were gay. You only like girls. “

Jacky pressed her finger to his lips then tapped her temple.

“You’re different. Just look at you. You’d be attractive to any lesbian. Anyway, it’s all up here with you. What did you call it; brain sex.”

“All I want to do is sleep Jacky. It’s been a long day. I was in Utah and Idaho early this morning.”

“Be my guest. There’s always tomorrow morning.”

Iona sighed and slumped onto the bed after throwing her clothes into a heap on the floor. Minutes later Jacky joined her but Iona was already asleep. Jacky was more disappointed with the fact that Iona’s telepathy was inactive than her body being inoperative. Despite having slept with Iona many times, she still found her undernourished frame disturbing and wanted to mother it like a child. In the morning Iona’s early cooking activities woke Jacky and she stumbled sleepily into the kitchen.

“Hmm, that smells good.” She yawned.

Iona doled out the huge portion of food then settled opposite her at the table.

“I’m going to Seattle for a couple of days.”

“D’ you think Emma’s there?”

“No but it’s the last place I crossed swords with them. If they want to trap me they’ve got to find me. It’s the most logical place to start. They’d be spotted a mile off around here.”
“You be careful. Rachel need’s her dad around when she’s older.”

“And her half-sister.” Finished Iona thoughtfully.
Jacky fell silent as she contemplated Natasha’s fate. When they confirmed Natasha was telepathic they would soon come looking for Jacky and Rachel. She was as deeply tangled up in this mess as Iona and Emma.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Not yet. Your turn will come. Pete says you handle a gun well.”

As Iona cleared the table Jacky prepared Rachel for the crèche and they left together. At the top of the track they separated as Iona left for Seattle and Jacky met Pete.

“I should have gone with her.” Observed Pete as they watched Iona’s pickup disappearing up the road.

“No she’s only going on a reconnaissance mission. She said he’ll come back when she want’s backup.”

Pete shrugged helplessly. All he could do was wait. Two days later he received his expected phone call.

“Hello Pete. It’s Iona here. I’ve found out where they’re keeping Emma and Natasha.”

“Where?”

“In the mountains behind Portland. There’s a cabin high up in the snows.”

“How the hell did you do that so quickly?”

“Simple. I read their minds.”
Pete shivered momentarily as he considered the vulnerability of the human brain if it’s every private thought could be read. He grinned ironically in his mind.

‘No wonder the Brits were afraid to lose Iona. She must know every military secret they had.’

Iona didn’t respond and Pete was suddenly grateful that telepathy couldn’t travel by phone.

It was immaterial however for when they met, Iona could download his memory. Jacky had explained everything. A shudder haunted Pete’s powerful frame.

‘The whole thing was really spooky.’

Jacky and Pete made their preparations and Iona returned the following afternoon. The next morning the three of them set out and eventually hit the snow line in the foothills. After studying the map they finally determined the location and Iona carefully scanned the area through the minds of the agents who were guarding Emma. She described the scene to Pete.

“It’s a large cabin beside a waterfall. It looks like a private place.”

“It would be. There are a lot of private estates up here.” Advised Pete.

“Emma’s in a large mobile home beside the cabin and Natasha’s with her. They don’t seem to be hurt.”

“I wouldn’t have expected them to be.” Replied Jacky. “You Brits don’t have a reputation for being brutes.”

“They butchered my mother,” corrected Iona, “and on Christmas Day of all days.”

“What!” Gasped Pete and Jacky simultaneously.

“They killed my mother. They rammed her car into a ravine and killed her.”

“Shit!” Finished Pete as Jacky closed her eyes in horror.

“They mean business. Don’t anybody mislead you. When the Brits mean business they’re as brutal and resolute as any others. Their veneer of civilised behaviour is all a con. You Yanks don’t get to see our soccer supporters, they’re like animals, ask the Europeans.”

Pete gave a knowing grin and hefted a large calibre rifle from his cab rack.

“If they’re animals, this’ll give them something to think about.”

Iona gaped down the muzzle and blinked disbelievingly. It was like a cannon.

“I hope you’re happy with that, I don’t think Jacky or I could lift it.”

“Speak for yourself.” Objected Jacky as she hefted the gun easily to her shoulder.

“Right.” Said Pete as they studied the map. “What’s your plan?”

“I haven’t got one. You’re the expert up here. Just think of me as an extra gun that cannot miss; even if the target is moving or invisible.”

Pete stared disbelievingly until he remembered the bank raid then he grinned.

“This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“Don’t you believe it.” Countered Iona. “They’ve got all sorts of stuff up there. Infra-red sensors, sonar, radar; you name it.”

“But we’ve got telepathy and therefore we’ve got intelligence.”

“It’s still bloody dangerous. Those guys know what they’re up against.”
“Well the first thing to do is reconnoitre.” Suggested Pete. “We’ll each take a vehicle and spread around the mountain until we meet again tonight. Then we’ll work out how close we can get.”

Jacky visited a local store and bought three local maps. Iona endorsed the maps then they set out to encircle the mountain. They remained in telepathic contact until midmorning then each was on their own. Well alerted to the dangers they stayed out of range of the surveillance equipment that Iona had located telepathically and each returned safely. Once they had a clear picture of the terrain, they all felt a little easier.

“This’ll do. We’ll start tomorrow morning.” Decided Pete.

“Why not tonight?” Suggested Jacky.

“They’ve got image intensifiers and stuff. We’d be at a tremendous disadvantage. It’s as black as hell out there at night. My telepathy can help my night sight but you guys would still be as blind as a bats once we got were separated.”

With the issue settled they booked rooms in a motel and lay low until morning. As residents of a small town themselves, Jacky and Pete were exquisitely alert to how easily a bit of idle gossip could get to the wrong ears. During the night Iona slipped out quietly to find a remote spot and test her telepathy. She detected Emma but she was too far to connect. She then scanned Emma’s captors and confirmed her earlier findings. The private mountain estate was huge and their electronic sensors were on the perimeter.

Unless the three of them were very careful in the morning they would be detected before Iona could do any telepathic damage. Disappointed she returned to her room knowing there was an extra hurdle to be cleared in the morning.

Over breakfast she described the problems to Pete and Jacky.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to use your woodcraft and my telepathy to get past their first line of defence.”
“It’s going to take a lot of crawling through the snow and that’ll mean extra equipment.” Sighed Pete. “This is going to take longer than I thought.”

“The snow will be a problem. It amplifies the temperature background difference between our body heat and the freezing ground.” Added Iona.

“You say you can read their minds though.”

“Yes.” Iona explained her strategy of reading a watchman’s mind and moving when they were distracted from the monitors.”

“Will it work?” Asked Jacky worrisomely.

“It’ll have to. I’ll go first then once I’m inside the perimeter I’ll patch you two into my net and feed the images back to you. You will then see what I see and move when it’s safe.”

“A sort of three-way telepathic video link-up.” Grinned an amazed Pete.

“Exactly. It should work but we’ll have to be patient and I’ll require extra food. This is going to make some huge demands on my metabolism.”

“A mile on our bellies.” Grumbled Pete. “In the snow.”

Iona shrugged apologetically.

“Can you think of a better plan? These bastards are good.”

“No. No criticism intended I was just dreading the ordeal. There’s also going to be a lot of to-ing and fro-ing to get extra stuff inside the perimeter.”

“So we’d best get started. You buy the extra supplies while Jacky and I load the trucks. It’ll look less suspicious if a man is seen equipping himself for the hunt so you’ll be the least conspicuous.”
With the plan agreed they met again at the foot of the mountain and set off to establish a safe base camp outside the perimeter. By the first day they had hidden the trucks, made camp, and located the perimeter detectors. The following day they crossed the perimeter several times and established a supply dump a mile from the cabin.

That evening they quietly congratulated themselves on their good fortune. Jacky had discovered a deep cave to hide their fire and provide extra shelter. Deep underground there was less chance of a helicopter detecting them. On the third morning they finally made visual contact with the cabin. Now they were getting places.

The cabin was set in a clearing at the foot of a high cliff with a waterfall plunging into a deep pool beside it. In normal circumstances it would have been considered an idyllic
Camp site. Iona located Emma and Natasha in a caravan parked beside the cabin with an umbilical electric cable providing heat and light. A guard shared the caravan; and telepathy identified him as one of the agents who had crashed into Iona’s mother. A cold dull anger enveloped Iona’s heart as she marked the man’s card carefully. ‘At last the long-awaited moment had arrived.’

Emma and Natasha were warm and fed but very distressed so the trio had a con-flab to discuss making contact with her. After weighing up the pros and cons they decided to contact her the next morning once they had studied the terrain and decided on the plan of attack. Finally, after checking around the cabin, they returned to the cave and slept soundly.

It was mid-morning when they finally awoke for the light had not penetrated into the deep cave. They were not worried at the late hour. If their attack was going to succeed it would only take a few minutes. After crawling on their bellies, they arrived at their pre-arranged positions before noon.

Pete hid by a bridge over the stream to cover the front of the cabin and the trail. Jacky was perched above the falls to watch the back of the cabin and Iona was hidden behind a large high rock where she could look down on the caravan and gable end of the cabin. They all carried several different weapons to suite their objectives and each was patched into Iona’s telepathic web. Now was the time to contact Emma.
The attack was sudden and the battle short. Forewarned by telepathy, Emma tucked herself and Natasha into the little caravan toilet. Iona then used telepathy to locate her mother’s killer and cold-bloodedly shot him dead through the thin skin of the caravan.
A deep satisfaction surged through Iona’s veins after fulfilling an ancient vow. At the same instant Pete demolished the front door of the cabin with a rocket launcher while Jacky lobbed several grenades onto the cabin roof for extra effect. Before the occupants had recovered, a pre-warned Emma was already out of the caravan and carrying her daughter to safety.

The remaining occupants immediately started to return fire but another rocket soon put paid to any idea of resistance. They realised they were up against somebody who knew a bit about warfare.

Whoever was attacking them had come well-armed and properly prepared. Being experienced troopers themselves, they quickly realised their adversary knew what he was doing and they waved a white flag before emerging cautiously and singly. Without disclosing herself Iona scanned each mind for any treachery and advised Pete accordingly as each trooper was secured with a pair of cuffs. Eventually seven men were seated in the clearing and only one remained in the cabin. Iona recognised the man as the boss of the agents who had killed her parents. This man wasn’t an honest trooper prepared to face an honest foe. This one was a cold clinical desk operator. A butcher who never faced death but often planned it: a virus that spread terror and assassination. Iona saw him as pure evil.

A dark cloud of resentment descended over Iona’s mind and Jacky and Emma shuddered as they sensed the hate spreading over their net.

‘Here was one of the dark secrets that Iona had always hidden from them.’

Jacky was sickened by the malice. Gone were the gentle saintly ways that had so enchanted her on the beach when she had nervously bared her lesbian soul.
As the dark uncontrollable forces of Iona’s psychopathy exploded, the satanic fury erupted through the ethereal fabric of the web and destroyed it.

Jacky felt suddenly isolated on her remote perch. Pete was left nervous and uncertain as the contact died and he was left exposed in full view of the cabin window.

The boss agent emerged uncertain of his reception for he knew the full extent of Iona’s powers. He alone knew all the facts about Iona and he alone knew the true dangers. The other troopers, brave and skilful though they were, had been kept ignorant of the peril.

As this remaining agent emerged he saw Pete preoccupied with the handcuffs having relied on Iona’s telepathy to ensure his own safety. Now that the telepathy had temporarily stopped Pete was hopelessly vulnerable. He turned to see the boss agent reaching for a hidden weapon and he frantically reached to unclip his sidearm to protect himself. The rocket launcher was several yards away on the grass and the agent thought he saw his chance. He steadied his arm to take aim but he had failed to notice Jacky perched high above with the heavy calibre rifle. Tense with uncertainty and deeply affected by Iona’s psychotic revulsion, Jacky fired without hesitating.

The bullet ploughed downwards into the man’s neck, erupted through his chest and slammed into the grass to form a small blood-stained crater. The agent catapulted forwards and the deafening roar finally brought Iona to her senses. She spun around to see a shocked Pete gaping at the corpse and Jacky mesmerised at the destruction she had wrought. The battle was over.

Iona joined Pete in the clearing as Jacky picked her way uncertainly down the cliff. After shakily returning the heavy rifle to Pete she stared into Iona’s dull eyes and tried to fathom out the forces that raged behind them. ‘This wasn’t the same Iona as the gentle father of their children. When Iona and Pete were certain that the ordeal was over they motioned Emma and Natasha to join them.

“So what now?” Signed Emma as the fear slipped from her shoulders. “We can’t hand them over to the authorities. That’ll blow the whole thing wide apart.”

“I say shoot the bastards here and now. There’re no witnesses.” Growled Jacky.

Pete stepped in and drew all four adults out of earshot of the troopers.

“Look, I’m the law and I’m bound to hand them over to the local sheriff. He’s a friend of mine from way back in Nam. I might be able to swing things.”

“How.” Demanded Jacky scornfully.

“Leave it to me. He owes me from Vietnam. Can you do a scan Iona and find out how much these troopers know?"

“In a minute when my feelings subside. This sort of thing has never happened before. I’m sorry about the lapse, my anger just engulfed me.”

“Would you have used that telepathic thing to kill him if Jacky hadn’t?”

“Yes, certainly. I owed it to my mum. He might have already killed you though if it hadn’t been for Jacky.”

“So why were you so slow. You left me hanging out to dry.”

“I don’t know. There was so much rage I just went gaga. I’m sorry. If I’d used the telepathic punch indiscriminately I might have injured or killed others.”

Pete and Jacky shuddered while Emma gently pressed her hand against Iona’s head to sign her feelings. Iona slumped onto a boulder to wait until her head had cleared while the others made preparations to leave. After a few minutes Iona blinked thankfully and tapped her temple to sign that things were in order. The mood of the four changed instantly and they all started ‘chattering’ at once. Order was soon restored and Pete’s decision was adhered to. As a sheriff, the law bound Pete and Iona didn’t want him to be compromised. The troopers were handed over to the local sheriff and Pete's report was accepted as the truth. The political ramifications of a troop of British soldiers kidnapping an American mother and child on American soil were left for British intelligence to sort out. Despite the uproar the British intelligence forces still did not reveal Iona’s telepathy to the Americans.
Iona was portrayed as a wanted criminal in England but her record of stopping a bank raid in Seattle and rescuing a kidnapped woman in Portland saved her from extradition. Iona had acquired plenty of good allies in America. Apart from being a good sheriff, Pete also had a sharp mind and some excellent friends in the legal profession. The case for extradition would rumble on for decades and would expose too much corruption in Britain. Soon after the row subsided Iona paid her last respects to Emma and Jacky and left to try a new life in Miami. Only Pete was given a forwarding number.

Some months later Pete received a phone call.

“Hi. It’s me Iona. Can you fly to Miami immediately?”

“What is it?”

“I might be able to fake my death.”

“How.”

“There’s a contract out on a drug dealer down here and she’s a dead-ringer for me. She’s even a pre-op transsexual.”

“How d’ you know?”

“Stupid question Pete. I read minds. I’ve got times and dates and everything.”

“So why don’t you tell the police?”

“The bastard’s a slime-ball. She deserves to die.”

“You can’t be judge and jury Iona.”

“I’m fighting for my life here Pete. They’re still searching for me. Will you help or not?”

“What d’ you want me to do.”
“Just identify the corpse as mine. I’ve built up a plausible story and I’ve prepared the ground. If anybody proves it was not me you could quite easily say it was a genuine mistake.”

“How?”

“I tell you she’s a dead ringer for me. I’ve been anonymously informing the police down here of drug deals and stuff. They’ve had some astounding successes. They’re itching to find out who ‘Mindful’ is.”

“Is that your code-name; Mindful?” Chuckled Pete.

“Yes. I can pretend the Mafia discovered my identity and shot me. You can identify me as the corpse, and even explain I got my information by telepathy. It’ll all sound very plausible especially if it’s confirmed by British intelligence.”

“Will it work?”

“It should. This woman looks identical to me and she’s deep into drugs. All we have to do is get to the corpse before anybody else and plant my ID on her.”

“How can we do that?”

“It’s easy I know exactly where and when they intend to shoot her. You can even pretend you were with me when I was shot.”

Pete frowned thoughtfully.

“Let me sleep on it.”

“We haven’t got much time they’re going to kill her on Wednesday.”

“That only leaves me with three days.”

“It doesn’t take three days to fly to Miami. I need to know now.”

“Why?”

“I want to prepare the ground. I’m going to tell the police of a big drugs deal coming off between Portland and Miami.”

“Is there one?”

“Yes. There’s a few hundred million dollars at stake. It’s coming from the Golden Triangle by ship from Thailand through Portland.”

“Shit Iona! You could be a marvel at this drug enforcement.”

“Forget it! If you come down to Miami on the pretext that we were tying up some loose ends to lay the trap in Portland you could be conveniently with me when I get shot. You’ll also get the kudos when you alone discover the drugs haul in Portland docks next week.
If you’ve any worries just contact your opposite number in Miami and ask him about Mindful. Here’s his number”

Pete smiled and carefully replaced the phone as he contemplated the plan.
‘It could work.’
After sleeping on it and checking with Miami police Pete decided to take the plunge. Iona met him at the airport and they drove to the drug dealer’s apartment. As she emerged from the apartment, Pete was astonished at her similarity to Iona and cautiously agreed to Iona’s plan. To convince Pete, Iona took him on a guided tour around Miami to show the dealer selling her poison to young kids outside schools. Her transsexual womanhood was a perfect disguise.

“She must be dealing ten thousand a day.” Cursed Pete.

“That’s not all. She’s overdosed a few kids. I can show you the graves.”

“I’ve seen enough. What’s the plan?”

“We wait outside her apartment when she’s going to be shot. They’ve organised a sniper to do it through the window. I’ve got the lock code so as soon as she’s shot you can go in and pretend you were meeting me sorting out some information about the drug deal. She doesn’t carry any ID because she’s a dealer and doesn’t want to get caught. It’ll be a simple task to plant my ID on her then you can phone the Miami police to say the Mafia discovered I was an informant and I’ve been shot.”

“Where will you be?”

“Not far away. In telepathic contact to help you with any questions.”

“This could work.”

“It’d better. It’s my last shot.”

That night the pair hit the town and Iona introduced Pete to the low life where she obtained the information she had fed to Miami police. The following night the plan went into operation and came off without a hitch. By the Thursday morning Iona Evans, one-time transvestite, psychopath, telepath and police informant was officially dead.

MINDFUL 2

Chapter 3.
Endgame.

Pete identified Iona’s ‘body’ and it was cremated with little ceremony. The DNA was thus carefully destroyed. Meanwhile the real Iona settled in New Orleans for several months to let time cover any loose ends. There was little chance of a drug dealer in Florida being connected with a trucker in Oregon. With practised ease she re-arranged her accounts until her fortune was safely scattered in offshore banks.

Now she had no need of a regular job but she returned to truck driving. The long lonely journeys gave her a sense of freedom and time to think.
She resumed her relationship with Emma and Jacky so that she could see her daughters Natasha and Rachel. They had extended the cabin and lived together but Iona usually stayed in the outhouse during her periodic visits.

When the children learned to talk Iona confirmed their telepathy. Both mothers were overjoyed but Emma doubly so because of the deafness. Soon after their fourth birthdays Iona established the first clear telepathic link.

Iona noticed that the children seemed to be developing slower than their British half-brother Ben who had communicated at the age of three and these thoughts reminded her of her two British children.

‘Would it be safe to contact them?’ She wondered, ‘and if she did, how would it best be done?’

Jacky’s office had recently been computerised and as a result of her work she had bought her own P.C. Emma was impressed and followed suite. Some weeks later Iona came home to find her daughters tapping eagerly away on the computer keyboards.

“What ho girls?” She telepathed as she entered the study.

“Look daddy. We can talk to anybody all over the world.”

Iona watched the screen and quickly realised the usefulness of the system. After some lessons from Jacky she waited one night until everybody was asleep and then patiently surfed the internet. She had no idea if Mary was on the Internet but it was a safe bet that the hospital was.

Eventually she found it and read the staff list. Mary’s name was missing and her heart sank as she trudged off to the outhouse. The following morning Iona broke the subject to Emma and Jacky.

“Do you think it’s safe to search for them?” Cautioned Jacky.

“I don’t know. How can I cover my tracks?” Mumbled Iona uncertainly.

“Let me do it.” Suggested Jacky. “I’ll use my office computer on Monday. That’ll be more anonymous.”

The weekend dragged for Iona and she moped about the cabin all weekend. On Monday she had a long haul to Toronto and she couldn’t wait for news. On the Tuesday she phoned Jacky and learned that Mary had moved across London to another hospital.

“Here’s her E mail address. Use a cybercafé when you’re in Toronto.”
Iona scribbled down the information and clambered impatiently into her rig. After days on the road she reached Toronto and sent the E-mail immediately. The following evening Jacky was bursting with excitement over the phone.
“Mary was overjoyed to get your E-mail! It’s a hell of a coincidence. There’re four of them going to Disney World in Florida next August.”

“August! Echoed Iona. “Why August. It’ll be as hot as hell during August!”

“I know. I said that but it’s a big thing with the Brits. That’s when they have their
summer vacations. We could easily meet them there. Natasha and Rachel are not in full time school yet so there’s no problem with them. If I take my vacation in August it’ll work out perfectly.”

“Who are the four?” Queried Bill.

“Mary, your daughter Rebecca, Sandra and your son Ben. He’s a teenager now.”

Iona tried to visualise her teenaged son and other daughter Rebecca but she gave up. She returned to her sleeper cab on the rig and tossed restlessly before finally falling asleep. The return leg via Duluth would be a long tiring run and the deadline was tight.
On arriving home late, Iona crept into the outhouse and slumped on her own bed. The next morning the children were bouncing on her bed demanding attention and she stumbled sleepily across the clearing just as Jacky was leaving for work.

“What time did you get in?” Jacky telepathed.

“Uhm- about two-ish.”

“Emma’s in the house. She’s just had a letter.”

Iona’s face greyed with shock and Jacky grinned.

“No it’s nothing to do with England. It’s from her old Alma Mater; the deaf school.”

They exchanged a passionate `goodbye’ kiss, which made the children giggle then Jacky left. As Iona entered the cabin Emma nodded towards the letter and poured out some coffee.

“They’re holding a reunion at my old deaf school. The old principle’s retired and this new guy wants to make the old student’s association more pro-active.”

“Well go then. You should have a good time,” agreed Iona.
“I’d like you to come.”

“And?” Queried Iona, already anticipating the answer.

“You’re telepathy,” suggested Emma, “what you’ve done for me you could do for them.

You always said you wanted to do something useful with it.”

“The old Iona is dead Emma and so is her telepathy. It’s best left that way.”

“But think of the good you could do.”

“I would do more harm. What happens when I leave them? They’d be devastated.”

“I was thinking of a permanent position; some sort of lecturer or something.”

“That’s a bit too philanthropic for me. I’m only human and I value my freedom too much.

It’s the only thing left to me. That’s why I drive trucks.”

“You’re obsessed with freedom aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you be? I was a prisoner of my supposed insanity for most of my childhood; if you could call it a childhood.”

“Well I was a prisoner too you know.” Countered Emma.

“It was a deaf school! Protested Iona. “They didn’t punish you or lock you up.”

“Don’t you believe it. They wouldn’t let us go out anywhere unless we were escorted ‘Too dangerous in the traffic’ they said. We only went out like prisoners on organised trips. We couldn’t even go into town. They treated us like retards.

This new guy Daniel was an old student. He was always kicking against the petty rules. He played hooky several times just to demonstrate it was safe for deaf children to be out alone. I want to meet him again and some of my old friends. Things must have changed enormously if they’ve made Daniel the principle. He was a real rebel.”

“Well you go then. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go.”

“Jacky and the children are coming.”

Iona frowned as she caught Emma’s drift.

“That’s not wise. I hope you aren’t going to try and substitute them for me.”

“It has crossed my mind.”

“And what do they think.”

“I haven’t mentioned it to them yet. They’re still out playing. I’ve only just received the letter this morning. Rachel and Natasha are both used to deaf people.”

“I still think it would be very dangerous. Their telepathy is nowhere near ready.”

“They ‘talk’ to me and Jacky.”

“That’s a big difference from talking to strangers and creating a net. Anyway, they can’t even create a net yet. It might be years before they’re ready. It might harm them, or worse, give them away.”

“Well you come then. Then they’ll be safe.”

“That’s blackmail. Either I come or the children are put in danger.”

“They won’t be in danger I think they are ready. They are much more advanced than you were.”
“That’s only because I’m here to help them. They’d be as mad as I was if nobody knew about telepathy. Imagine if I wasn’t here and they were trying to communicate with you alone.”

“That’s unfair. Anyway, you are here and we would never have had the girls if it hadn’t been for you and your telepathy.”

Emma’s logic was impeccable and Iona cursed as she conceded the argument.

“I still think it’s too early for them. Their telepathy isn’t ready yet.”

“Well if I go, the children will have to go. Who else can look after them?”

Iona considered this and realised the risks. The children were not yet alert to all the dangers of disclosing their telepathy. She reflected on her own desperate childhood and realised the whole damned thing could start all over again. Emma and Jacky would almost certainly lose the children as the military authorities greedily sought an excuse to get two telepathic kids into their clutches. Emma’s deafness would be used to discredit their parenting and Jacky’s sexual orientation would certainly be used to smear the friendship, particularly as they shared the same isolated cabin. Iona knew the girl’s relationship was primarily platonic with a small sexual factor. However, it would be impossible to dissuade determined sleazy social workers and gullible prejudiced judges. Iona had encountered too many of both in her wretched childhood.

“OK then, I’ll come. I’m not happy though. Leaving these two telepaths with some stupid babysitter would be like the King James experiments.”

“What was that?” Demanded Emma suspiciously.

“Oh it was way back in British history.” Replied Iona dismissively.

“Go on.” Pressed Emma.

“They wanted to find out the true language of God so they took an orphaned new-born child and put it on a remote island with only a deaf-mute woman to care for it. Some stupid philosophers believed the child would grow up with only God to talk to and end up speaking the true language of heaven. It was a bloody crazy theory but they had their way.”

“And?”

“The child grew up with no language. The language centres in its infant brain were atrophied and it never learned to speak properly.”

“The evil bastards. You Brits can be bloody cruel can’t you?”

“It was the seventeenth century for Christ’s sake! Your lot were still burning witches.”

“You still don’t like us Yanks do you?” Observed Emma shrewdly.

“You’re alright. You’re no worse than those bastards back home. I’ve taken out American citizenship haven’t I? What more proof d’ you want?”

“Dammed by faint praise.” Charged Emma.

“D’ you think I’d be any safer if American military intelligence got to know about telepathy. D’ you think Natasha and Rachel would be safe.”

“We’ve got a constitution.”

“Oh sure! So have I, though it’s not a very robust one. I think I’d better come, if only for their sake. D’ you Emma, you can be incredibly naïve sometimes.”
Emma grinned thinking she had been particularly manipulative but the truth was different. Iona’s telepathy was still developing and she was curious about how many people she could patch into a telepathic web. A deaf school might be the ideal place to try.
The children had already detected both their mother’s intimate adult thoughts and described them to Iona. Fortunately Iona had persuaded them to keep it a secret and explained that mummies were very different from little girls.

It was still a traumatic time nevertheless as Iona tried to bridge the vast gulf between the children’s transparent telepathy and normal, carnal adult thoughts. The children explored everything and every time Iona arrived home there were more questions to answer, usually because the children had encountered some inexplicable adult hang-up.

Iona’s most successful control mechanism was pain. Not physical violence or cruelty but mental discomfort and distress as conveyed by telepathy.

She discovered this accidentally one afternoon when she was alone having a particularly black dog. As she dwelled on Michael’s suicide the children sensed her pain and quickly invaded her mind to comfort her. Iona was exquisitely surprised at their unique sensitivity and savoured the sharing of her telepathic hurt. Here at last had arrived the moment that Mary had long ago foretold.

‘Somebody to share Iona’s deepest telepathic feelings with.’

On learning of Iona’s pleasure, the children had immediately scampered from the surf and joined her in the outhouse. After indulging in the intense emotions, they all tired and fell asleep on Iona’s sofa. On returning from the beach Emma found the three sleeping forms bundled together on the sofa. She crept away and tackled Iona again that evening over supper. Iona explained the telepathic oneness she and the children had enjoyed. Emma breathed a sigh of relief but could not hide the slight tinge of jealousy. Iona sensed it and described it to both women.

“Sorry ladies. I’m afraid the children have started telepathy in earnest and only I can help them now. You’ll be sidewalk watchers from now on. Just be there for them if they fall.”

They finished their supper and Iona went for a stroll along the beach. As the lights dimmed in the cabin, the full moon rose and only the restless booming of the surf invaded Iona’s perfect peace.

Several weeks later all five of them set off for Emma’s re-union. They arrived in Seattle and made their way to the hotel that they had pre-booked. The hotel had a bar set out like an old backwoodsman’s hotel and this was the rendezvous for the reunion. Jacky took the children to a nearby burgher-bar as Iona and Emma met Daniel the new principle in the bar.

Signs were rapidly exchanged as Emma made the introductions and they joined a small group in the window recess. Iona sensed some resentment from a couple of ex pupils who had always fancied the pretty Emma.

They each wondered if Emma was a lesbian and why she had chosen a hearing female as a companion. Iona telepathed her findings to Emma and they shared a private telepathic smile. When the two deaf admirers discovered that Iona couldn’t sign they immediately felt superior and tried to jockey for Emma’s attentions. Iona wanted to adopt a low, uncontentious profile so she chose a large stuffed armchair in the large inglenook fireplace and settled deep into its thick soft cushions. She was almost invisible to all but the other immediate occupants of the fireplace.

“Well Emma. Nice to see you again,” signed Daniel. “We use this place regularly for reunions and the older pupils come here to get away from the school. It’s a sort of halfway house. One of our ex pupils owns it.”

As Daniel signed, the barman waved and signed across the crowded room. Emma grinned and sipped her beer as the bar filled up. From the privacy of the armchair, Iona scanned away quietly as Emma savoured old acquaintances and made new ones.

Eventually Iona contacted Emma and explained her plan. Emma gaped disbelievingly around the room then struggled to control her excitement as she counted at least a hundred people.

“Are you sure? A whole net with all these people!”

“It’s what you wanted isn’t it?” Replied Iona.

“But you’ll give yourself away!”

“No. You can pretend to be doing it.”

Emma swallowed nervously as Iona explained.

“Tell Daniel you want to try an experiment. We can start with him first. He’s got an imaginative mind and I’ve identified several others. They’re all bright and receptive to new ideas. I’ll tell you who they are as we go along.

Emma gulped as she caught Daniel’s attention and finally persuaded him to sit beside her. Once Daniel was seated, Emma took his hand.

“I want to try something.”

“Go on.” Replied Daniel curiously.

Emma slipped her finger into the palm of Daniel’s hand and signed privately.

“It’s something very unusual. Are you prepared for a shock?”

Daniel nodded and frowned uncertainly as Emma rubbed her temples.

“Get ready for this.” She signed as a final warning.

“What is it?”
“I’m using telepathy. Did you get that?”

Daniel croaked with shock and spilt his beer as the message slid like a stiletto into his mind. He almost dropped his glass in his haste to sign but Emma ‘spoke’ again.
“There’s no need to sign. Just think your answer.”

“What the hell did you do just then?” He demanded nervously.

“It’s telepathy. I’m using telepathy.” Repeated Emma as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“My God! How do you do it?”

“I’m connected to a telepathic web. It’s like the Internet. D’ you want to hear about it?”

“Do I!” He signed excitedly. “Do popes shit in the woods?”

Emma giggled at Daniel’s deliberate obfuscated irony. She always enjoyed Daniel’s rare `sidewinder humour’.

Emma gave a brief explanation and the inevitable questions followed.

“Who started it? Where does it come from? Is it aliens?”

“Those are exactly the questions I asked myself. Don’t worry, there are others outside ready to join in.”

Daniel glanced around nervously but failed to spot any likely looking progenitors of this newfound wonder. He was looking for some alien life form or some unusual person. In the excitement he had completely overlooked the invisible elfin figure huddled up deep in the armchair and all but invisible. Emma diverted Daniels attention before he remembered Iona huddled in the inglenook.

“D’ you want to speak to the others outside?”

“Please!”

Right on cue Jacky joined in while Rachel and Natasha took grandstand seats and savoured the principle’s stunned surprise. The children’s telepathy afforded them more latitude but they had been warned. If they were needed Iona would pull them in. Their telepathy had already advanced them beyond the realms of ordinary socialising.
Jacky introduced herself cheerfully from across the street.

“Hello Dan. I’m Jacky, Emma’s friend. Welcome to Telepathy.”

“He- hello! Where are you?”

“In the burgher-bar across the street. I’m babysitting the daughters so I’ll just sit here and listen.”

“Are you the one doing this stuff?”

“No. That’ll become apparent later. Stick with Emma for now.”

Daniel turned again to Emma and smiled weakly.

“How far does this stuff reach?” He ‘whispered’.

“There’s no need to whisper with telepathy. Nobody can hear us.”

Daniel glanced around the room to reassure himself but everybody was busy signing. He turned to face Emma then peeped anxiously through the window half expecting to see a spaceship.

“It’s all human.” Grinned Emma. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Convince me.”

Emma gazed around the room as though seeking another likely candidate. In reality she was listening to Iona’s secret directions.
“There’s a popular boy in a green `lumberjack’s’ shirt sitting by the old pot-bellied stove in that large noisy group. He’s got a bright flexible mind.” Observed Iona.

Emma spotted the boy and she turned to Daniel.

“Who’s that boy in the green checked shirt by the stove?”

“That’s Paul. He’s a clever kid.”

“He’ll do. Watch this.”

As Emma spoke she telepathed a ‘hello’ into the boy’s brain and sat back to enjoy the fireworks. Paul immediately stopped signing and stood up to stare nervously around the room. Fortunately it had been a woman’s voice in his brain so there was little threat but he was still frightened. Emma stood up and smiled as she waved and telepathed the next sentence.

“Don’t be frightened. It’s me Emma, standing by the window. Come on over.”

The shocked boy stared then gave a sickly grin. He rose unsteadily and picked his way through the crowd as Daniel stood to reassure him.

“Don’t worry.” He signed. “This is Emma. She’s an old pupil and a contemporary of mine. Don’t be frightened. It’ll all become apparent.”

The boy studied Emma and slowly drew up a seat as his hands started to sign.

“What did you just do?”

“There’s no need to sign. I’m sending messages straight into your brain.”

A stunned silence reigned before Paul finally accepted what was happening. Emma quickly explained the situation and he listened mesmerised. Once enlightened he became an instant convert and quickly used his popularity to facilitate Emma’s plan.
Several more of the brighter pupils were inducted and soon everybody was busily ‘chattering’ away on the web. In all the frenzied excitement Daniel had completely overlooked the elfin little fair-haired occupant of the alcove seat.

It was getting dark before he suddenly realised his rudeness in ignoring Emma’s partner. Quickly he whipped out his note pad and scribbled an apology.

“I’m terribly sorry to have ignored you so much. There have been some remarkable events here today. Emma will explain it all to you later but things are too hectic at the moment. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge it.”

Iona smiled graciously as she howled with laughter inwardly and shared the joke with Rachel and Natasha. She had been getting tired and tapped into the children’s elemental telepathic energy. Now the children were tired. Emma was compelled to declare an end and a ‘murmur’ of discontent eddied around the room as she apologised. The net closed with a ‘snap’ and last farewells were cut off in mid-sentence.

“That’s all ladies and Gentlemen. See you at the school tomorrow.”

So saying Emma made her excuses and arranged to meet Daniel in the morning. Emma and a weary Iona met Jacky and two sleeping children.

“They fell asleep just now.” Observed Jacky. “One minute they were bubbling with energy then they went out like lights.”

Emma turned suspiciously to Iona.

“Did you tire them out?”

Iona grinned and nodded guiltily.

“They enjoyed themselves though. Think of it as their childhood games. They’ll sleep like logs tonight. I’m shattered as well.”
Both girls exchanged wry smiles as they tried to imagine what had been going on. Iona’s expression, ‘Watching from the sidewalk’ was becoming more significant.

In the hotel the three telepaths slept soundly so Jacky and Emma savoured the privacy and chatted deep into the night. Emma realised that it was Iona who had manipulated her by coming to the re-union. Nevertheless the expansion of the web to over a hundred people had been a remarkable demonstration. It showed that despite being adult, Iona’s telepathy still had some way to run. The girls turned in about three o’clock.

Iona woke them with a gentle shake and they blinked uncertainly. Normally the children subjected them to an explosive bed-bouncing invasion but they were obviously still asleep.

“It’s ten o’clock. You’ll be late.” Iona whispered as she placed the coffee beside the bed.

“Where are the children?” Whispered Jacky.

“Still sleeping. Yesterday took out more than I thought. We won’t be able to do so much today.”

They reached the school late to find an excited crowd anticipating their arrival. Emma drove to the old school only to find the layout completely changed.

Instead of using the huge lantern office over the main entrance, Daniel had commandeered the annexe beside the main tower. Emma recalled the forbidding childhood image of the old principle gazing through the huge mullioned windows and the climate of fear it engendered. Daniel’s policy of an open door next to the main forecourt was friendlier. He was signing to some children in the doorway and waved to Emma as she pulled up beside the main steps.

“Over here.”
Emma pulled forward a few yards and they tumbled out as people began to gather. Daniel signed them into the office and Iona immediately opened the net. Jacky spoke first.

“The children want to feed the ducks.”

This was a simple ploy to get the children away from the crowds. Daniel summoned one of the staff and within minutes a large bag of bread appeared and the children scampered off towards the lake. Daniel studied the gathering crowd thoughtfully and sucked his lip.

“We’d best hold this meeting in the auditorium.”

“Not yet.” Replied Emma. “There’s some stuff to sort out first.”

Daniel nodded expectantly. ‘There had to be some explanations for yesterday’s events.’

“Go on.” He pressed.

“It’s about the web.”

“I’m listening.”

“Everything I tell you must remain secret.” Cautioned Emma.

“What! How? Just look at that crowd.”

“They only know there is a web. They don’t know how it works or who controls it.”

“Well that’s you.”

“Uhm- not exactly.” Countered Emma. “I’m only a channel for the real source.”

“Ahh.” Sighed Daniel. “Now the truth emerges. Go on.”

“I want you’re solemn promise. There’s to be no disclosure.”

“You’ve got it.”

Emma stepped back discreetly and left Iona facing Daniel alone. The gesture obviated any more disclosure and Daniel squinted curiously at the fair-haired elfin figure.

“Good God! You? So there are elves and fairies.”

Iona inclined her head slightly then nodded imperceptibly. The gesture was a typical transatlantic ‘understatement’ and Daniel almost missed it. It was the expression in the ‘elf’s’ strange turquoise eyes that really answered Daniel’s question. A silence settled as Daniel struggled to absorb the information and organise the questions in his brain.

“How?” He finally asked.

“I was born with it. I don’t know how it works.” ‘Shrugged’ Iona telepathically.

“So why a deaf school?” Wondered Daniel.

“Call it philanthropy.”

“You could do anything with telepathy.”

“I have- well almost. I just want to rest now. Somewhere peaceful to finish my days.”

The last words made Emma shudder. She had never heard Iona express such a wish before and she let out a gasp of anguish. Daniel pushed on oblivious to Emma’s distress.

“Are you terminally ill or something?”

Iona realised her mistake and corrected it.

“I’m sorry I meant for the rest of my life.”

The tension broke as Emma sighed with relief. As an American, the idea of people thinking about old age in their twenties and thirties came as a shock. It gave her a new insight into Iona’s ‘old-world’ perspective. Daniel also blinked as he grasped the proper meaning of Iona’s words.

“You mean you want to work here until you retire?”

“Something like that.”

“You gave us a fright then!” Admonished Emma.

“No harm intended. The only thing to remember is that nobody is to learn where the web comes from. Just say there is a telepathic web somehow functioning in and around the school.”

“But that’s impossible. People are bound to find out. They’ll want to know why you’re on the staff for a start.”

“Caretaker, cleaner, janitor, there’s plenty of vacancies I could fill without disclosing my true function. As I said, I’m tired of running. I just want to end up somewhere pleasant and this place certainly fills the bill. The grounds are beautiful.”

“Who were you running from?” Daniel pressed.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Iona finished. “The running is over. We can just pretend that Emma somehow discovered a way to create a web and it only works with deaf people; like some sort of divine compensation. This place started out as a religious charity didn’t it?

“Oh yeah! The religious directors of this place, they’ll just love that idea.”

“But the authorities are bound to come investigating.” Emma observed.

“They won’t be looking for me.”

Iona briefly explained her life history and Daniel shuddered before reluctantly acceding to her wishes.

“I’m not sure you’re safe to work with. You sound like a psycho, and if you’re not, you bloody well should be.”

“I was a psycho, I probably still am. I’ll not lie. Telepathy did that to me. I’ll leave it to Emma to fill you in.”

“Where are you going?” Asked Daniel as Iona rose to leave.

Iona explained.

“Yesterday I found out how many the web could support. Today I want to find out how far it’ll reach. Jacky can drive while I concentrate.”

Emma shrugged and spread her hands in abandonment. It was new to her as well. As Iona and Jacky got into the R.V. the curious crowd watched them uncomprehendingly. They did not associate the ‘ordinaries’ as having anything to do with the web so Iona and Jacky took Rachel and Natasha off the campus. Jacky turned to Iona.

“How far d’ you think it’ll reach?”

“I don’t know. Rachel and Natasha are here as boosters if I need them. They know exactly what to do.”

“How the hell does all this stuff work?”

Iona chuckled and wagged her head.
“No idea. I use Natasha and Rachel like batteries connected in parallel, it’s just that they haven’t got many telepathic ‘ampere-hours’ yet. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

The web worked up to five miles then their communications broke down. Iona connected the children and extended the range up to ten. They then drove in a circle to see if large mountains interfered and they returned to the school at lunchtime. By this time everybody was congratulating Emma on her achievement and Iona was left free to dine peacefully with Jacky and the children. Late in the afternoon the web was shut down and Emma feigned exhaustion. Already, the news had spread beyond the school but when some police arrived to investigate they found themselves unable to join the web. Daniel explained that it only seemed to work for deaf people and the ‘Deafness Compensation’ theory began to take root.

Over the next few weeks several scientific experiments were attempted but they only reinforced the theory and eventually the American intelligence services accepted that telepathy had little military use with a range of only five miles among deaf people. Henceforth Emma was contracted to come up to the school periodically to help deaf pupils formulate words by using telepathic ‘feedback’. The school quickly prospered as a centre of excellence and Iona had found a rewarding, useful job.

August was now approaching and they were all looking forward to Florida. They had arranged to extend the vacation to a month by driving across America and spending the final two weeks with the Brits in Disney World. Transatlantic communication had been kept to a minimum and they were to simply meet the Brits off the plane in Orlando. The transcontinental drive proved to be fun for there was no schedule and they stopped whenever it suited them.

Iona slept a lot of the time, and the mothers alternately drove and navigated. Sightseeing was organised on an ad-hoc basis. If the scenery warranted it, Emma did some painting while the others just hung loose or visited some notable site.

Iona was sick with tension and anxiety as they arrived at the airport. She had no idea what to expect after so many years separation and she was particularly nervous of meeting her children. They had not communicated anything on the Internet so she had no idea just how much Mary had told Ben and Rebecca. Iona’s guilt had been growing ever since she had contacted them. She knew all about parental rejection so if Ben and Rebecca attacked her on sight she could hardly blame them. As Jacky and Emma bought coffee, Iona scanned nervously in an attempt to reach Ben and Rebecca. Her fear transmitted to Natasha and Rachel and a tensely silent trio gazed distractedly into the skies. Suddenly Iona gave a low gasp.

‘Hello! Who’s that?’

The reply was weak but distinct.

“It’s Ben. Is that you dad?”

Iona’s knees went weak and she slumped into her seat. Emma and Jacky lurched nervously forward thinking she’d had some sort of seizure; or worse Ben had vented his juvenile anger and launched a telepathic attack. They had discussed this so many times that everybody was on tenterhooks with anticipation. Iona smiled and waved her hand weakly.

“It’s OK. I was just overcome. He seems happy to see me.”

“What! You’ve definitely made contact then?” Gasped Emma.

“Yes. Quiet now. He’s trying again.”

Jacky and Emma glanced simultaneously at the arrivals board and exchanged nervous glances. ‘The plane was half an hour late and could still be hundreds of miles away. Was it possible that the boy had even stronger powers than his father?’ Iona recovered her composure and smiled.

“He says they’re about one hundred miles out.”
“So he has got a greater range than you then?” Observed Jacky nervously.

“Apparently, or it’s a combination of both of us. None of the girls are communicating yet, but they’re still only young. Rebecca’s only twelve. Ben’s talking to her now.”

Emma watched Rachel and Natasha twitching with frustration as they anticipated telepathing to their half kin. She settled between them and squeezed them both to her.

“Don’t worry girls. It won’t be long. Daddy will try to patch you in as soon as possible.”

They knew it would be a long wait to transit immigration so they settled back in their seats while Iona and the children strained telepathy to its limit. Despite their efforts, the plane was still twenty miles out before Rachel and Natasha finally established their own independent connections with Ben and Rebecca. Jacky was returning with a tray of drinks as she caught the victorious grins on their faces. Emma looked up and signed ‘Success’ as she released her embrace of the children. Iona finally relaxed as she connected with Mary and surprisingly, Sandra.

“Hello my love. So they’ve finally told you?”

“They had to. Ben’s behaviour was sending me mad. It explained everything about him and you. Oh Iona! I wish you had told me.”

The plane had started circling about eight miles out when Iona finally completed her web and introduced the adults. Ben had already done so with his telepathic sisters and Iona grinned as she gently ‘peeked’ into the children’s private circle. She was told to ‘Go away’ in no uncertain terms. The children’s private web had been active at over twenty miles for they had each contributed their energies. The two independent webs continued until they collected their baggage. When they met they felt as though they had known each other all their lives. Nobody was more relieved than Iona.

There were many questions to be addressed but the first week was devoted to theme parks and tourist sites. Most of the telepathy was devoted to sharing fun as the group availed themselves of the endless entertainment. It wasn’t until the second week that Iona finally managed to explore the extent of Ben and Rebecca’s telepathy.

Iona’s biggest shock was to discover that Rebecca was able to shut out telepathic probes whilst she and Ben could not. On the other hand Rebecca could not create a web yet Ben had been webbing with Mary, Rebecca and Sandra since he was nine. It seemed that telepathy had clear sexual delineations associated with primordial gender roles. Having grown up as a lonely telepathic child, it came as a revelation to Iona.

Since realising she was telepathic and not mad, Iona had always carried a malignant subliminal resentment for her childhood maltreatment and the theft of her family.

As a child the destructive element of Iona’s anger had been the incubation of her telepathic punch. In adulthood Iona had felt guilty about its power and overcompensated to appear as a philanthropist.

Her telepathy had always enabled her to mask her resentment and live the lie but with the arrival of Ben and Rebecca her personality flaws were now laid bare.

Iona found it painful to be the recipient of telepathic inspection by her own children, particularly by the more mature Ben. The most humbling experience was to learn that Ben and Rebecca entertained no resentment about their father, nor his transvestism, or his female appearance. Telepathy enabled them to see the person not the clothes. Their mothers had worked hard to explain why their father was not around and the children had come to accept it without resentment. They fully understood the dangers of exposure. By comparison Iona’s own corrupted mind seemed dirty and inadequate and she felt a sense of moral inferiority. Gradually as the holiday progressed Iona began to withdraw into her shell and Ben took more control of the telepathic handles.

The adult women soon noticed this and discussed it with Ben while Iona was sleeping, as she seemed to do more each day.
“She’s tired. She’s been carrying the burden for too long.” Declared Ben protectively.

“Is she depressed?” Asked Mary.

“Very. She keeps thinking of somebody called Michael.”

Mary felt a cold lump settle in her stomach then she described Michael’s appalling suicide.

“D’ you think Iona’s suicidal?” Asked Sandra.

“She gets some very black depressions.” Replied Ben. “Her mind’s a pretty frightening place when she’s feeling down. There's some horrible stuff in there. I’m afraid to go in sometimes. Is that what it was like for her as a child?”

Mary nodded despondently.

“Then I don’t hold out much hope. She seems to think her course is run. I don’t know what to do and Rebecca is horrified when she goes inside. She senses the hurt much more than I do.”

Ben’s telepathic maturity belied his youth and he suddenly started to cry at his inability to help his father. Rebecca had been playing with her younger sisters and she stopped when she sensed Ben’s distress. As Rebecca probed her brother’s mind she joined him with the adults and sat hugging him as she spoke to Mary.

“Is there nothing you can do for dad, mummy?”

Mary suddenly felt the huge burden of responsibility settling on her inadequate professional shoulders. She felt so helpless. The gloom spread and the planned entertainment was curtailed. The silence resembled a Victorian Sunday and the children felt forced to escape to the swimming pool for relief. Iona emerged from her bedroom and gazed dispiritedly at the four women.

“You may as well go without me. I’ll baby-sit the children and read a book.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Asked Emma.

“I’ll only put a damper on your evening. Go on. Get out and enjoy yourselves, it’s supposed to be a holiday isn’t it?”

Reluctantly the four left to see a show and Iona settled on the patio to keep in contact with the children. The three girls continued splashing noisily in the water but Ben sensed his father’s telepathic supervision and returned to the patio.

“Who was Michael Dad?”

Iona put the book down and stared at Ben.

“My friend in childhood.”

“Auntie Mary said he was an autistic mute. Why did he affect you so much?”

“He couldn’t speak or communicate at all. One night I reached into his brain by a telepathic accident and found a brilliant mind. When he realised I was connecting to him accidentally by telepathy he replied to my blind probes and suddenly I discovered we could ‘talk’ to each other without using our voices. It was him who worked out that I wasn’t mad but telepathic and he explained how. He was a brilliant mind locked up in an idiot savant body and he was much cleverer than me. We became very close”

“So why did he die?”

“They thought we were gay and they separated us. He couldn’t talk to anybody else by normal voice because of his autism so the loss of telepathic contact sent him crazy. He flung himself from a high clock tower and smashed himself to pieces.”

At these words Iona suddenly felt Ben trying to download his father’s entire childhood memory. Iona strained to stop him and eventually managed it. Iona heaved a sigh of relief at having prevented her son from learning too much.

“Why did you want to do that?” Iona begged. “I’d have thought you’d seen enough to sicken you forever. You’ll poison your own mind if you read all of it.”

“I feel like a liberator of the concentration camps dad. Somebody has to be a witness to what you’ve been through. Those bastards should still be punished. Those probes you did in the lunatic asylum. Was it all true, are you sure you didn’t imagine some of it?”

“I’ll never know son. I was pretty strung out in those days. It was hard to separate fact from fiction. I kept a diary. It’s all in some books I hid in the old hospital ventilators. God alone knows what’s happened to them. It’s all about insanity and telepathy, and what I learned. If you ever find those diaries, I suggest burn them.”

“What d’ you do when you come across really evil people dad?”

“Why? Have you?”

“Auntie Mary showed me were those intelligence people work. The one’s who killed
Grandma.”

“I shouldn’t worry about them son. Your Auntie Jacky put paid to the last one with a rifle. The only ones left are working in London.”

Ben smiled at the thought of Auntie Jacky banging away like a western hero.

“So they’ve stopped hunting you.”

“I’d like to think so but I’ll never be sure. Anyway, you should know better than I do. When you’re back in London you can probe their minds any time you like.”

“When did you learn to kill people dad?”

“What, with telepathy?”

“Yes.”

“When they tried to kill me son. I’m afraid it was born of necessity. I was very frightened and very angry. I was still very young. They had kidnapped me and were doing bad things to me with drugs. Are you affected by psychosomatic drugs?”

“Yes, and Rebecca.”

“Well that’s another thing we’ve all got in common. That and telepathy.”

“Why are the girls able to shut us out?” Mumbled Ben.

“Why are we able to create webs and transmit much further?” Riposted Iona. “I don’t know son. I never even knew girls could shut us out until Rebecca showed me. I suppose Rachel and Natasha will soon be able to do so as well.”

“It’s like a pride of lions isn’t it? The females hunt while the males defend the territory.”

“Yes son. Sexual dimorphism I suppose, but for the life of me I can’t imagine why telepathy would need gender roles.”

“It might be necessary when everybody becomes a telepath.”

“You’re ahead of me lad. That will take hundreds of years.”

“It depends how I respond. I could sell myself like a stud stallion.”

Iona felt a shudder of guilt. In fathering four children by four different women she had done something similar. She could hardly condemn her son.

“So why would you want to do that?”

“The sooner everybody is telepathic, the safer it is for us all.”

“What do the girls think?”

“I’ve only spoken to Rebecca. She’s not sure. She feels jealous that I could have thousands of children and she can only have hundreds by selling her eggs.”

“My oh my! You have been a busy pair haven’t you? I’ll bet she feels vulnerable too. Every man around would want to have a telepathic child. It’s easy for you, it was easy for me, but it’s not so easy for the girls. They’d be hopelessly vulnerable to kidnap and rape. It’ll be your job to protect them.”

Ben fell silent as he considered the thought. As a telepath he had already encountered the primordial female horror of rape. Mary had explained it when she described the day Iona had revealed her telepathy on the lonely mountain. Ben knew about most of his father’s life for Mary had stuck to her promise to be open and honest.

“What d’ you think I should do?” Continued Ben.

“Let nature take its course. Telepaths will eventually become the only humans on the planet. It’s a dominant gene.”

“How do you know to trust a girl?”

“Use your telepathy and choose intelligent women. Once you know you can trust them, be honest with them. If they know they can trust you then your problem is solved.”

“But what if they talk? Reveal my telepathy.”

“If they’re protecting their own telepathic children they won’t talk, believe me.”

“How long does telepathy need to remain a secret?”

“Until there are enough of you to protect yourselves.”

“And how many is that?” Pressed Ben.
“I don’t know. I’m still paranoid because of my childhood. Everybody was my enemy. I’d be the last person to advise on that.”

Ben stood up and turned away dissatisfied. Iona stood to put her arm around his shoulder but the boy shrugged it away.

“You don’t know much do you? Even Rebecca says you’re cold and distant, and she can really feel emotions.”

“I’ve led a cold life son. I have never been allowed to let my feelings surface. Imagine where you would be now if I had made my telepathy public and let people know about you and Rebecca. You wouldn’t be allowed to leave the country; you’d be used as laboratory rats and God knows what else. Believe me I know whereof I speak. I could never allow myself to get emotionally attached to anybody.”

“But you do love mum don’t you?”

“Oh hell yes. I loved Sandra like my own blood. I became attached to her before I really understood the whole telepathy thing. They kidnapped me and forced us to separate. Your mum understands.”

“Mum says at first you didn’t want any kids.”

“I didn’t. You came unexpectedly. I was still young myself and I didn’t really know my own mind. Do you remember those days in the park when we played together?”

“Yes.”

“Well that changed my mind. Your mum couldn’t have any more children so Auntie Mary had a sister for you. It was the best solution we could think of. You’ve enjoyed having Rebecca around haven’t you?”

“Heck yes. She’s great. We never even argue. That’s the beauty of telepathy.”
“Well now you’ve got two more sisters to share it with. You’ll have to look after them as well when I’m gone.”

Ben let out a loud telepathic wail of protest and Rebecca dashed from the pool to investigate.

She found Ben beating furiously on the table as he refused to countenance Iona’s death. She quickly grasped the circumstances and attached herself to her father demanding that she never give up the fight. However, as she probed deeper into her father’s mind she detected the suicidal depression.

Ben followed Rebecca on her telepathic journey then gave up as he realised that their united efforts could not turn the depression’s course. Their combined pleadings served little purpose and both children shuffled off to the pool so that the water would hide their tears. Rebecca shut out her mind to everything and Ben desperately envied her ability to do so. He had never felt so helpless and lonely as he realised that he was now feeling what his father had endured all her life.

The mothers returned to find their children sitting silently around an empty pool as the night chill was beginning to bite. Their preoccupation was obvious and Ben first broached the subject of their father’s unhappiness to Mary.

“It’s hopeless. There’s nothing we can do. All he seems to think about is this Michael.”

Mary joined Ben to talk to Iona but her efforts proved totally inadequate.

“Think back to when you first met me as a child.” Replied Iona. “Remember Mabin Park. Are there any of my contemporaries left from that place?”

Mary’s blood ran cold. Ben had often asked about Iona’s childhood and been sickened by Mary’s revelations. She could not hide the truth from him and as a consequence of Ben’s desperate need to understand; Mary had inquired regularly about survivors. She was forced to confess that she knew of none of the children having survived past thirty. Every child she had learned of had committed suicide or been killed in prison or died from a drug overdose. Eventually other equally concerned people had taken up her researches in a campaign against childhood abuse.

Iona had anticipated Iona’s answer.

“I’m probably the last survivor from that place and that’s only because of the satisfaction of having killed my abusers. I may have escaped from my pursuers but I can’t escape what’s in my mind. There’s no reason left to keep going.”

“What about the children. They need you now more than ever.” Pleaded Mary.

“Ben will soon be of an age to help his younger sisters. My mind’s too filthy and soiled for their growing needs. I recognised the shock in Rebecca’s mind when she discovered my psyche; I don’t want Natasha and Rachel to suffer the same obscene turmoil.”

Mary couldn’t answer this and she turned to Ben for support. Ben simply stood dumbly staring at the floor. His father was telling the truth. If Natasha and Rachel reached an age when they were able to scan Iona’s mind, the horrors could destroy them. What little information Ben and Rebecca had downloaded left them disturbed and frightened.

Ben felt bound to agree with his father. If telepathy were to go forward as a healthy tool the desperate cancer of its origins would have to be cut away.

It seemed that environment and upbringing had a tremendous effect on its development. Despite telepathy’s powers and the infinite potential for serving mankind, his father’s gift had been hopelessly perverted and maligned. Even his father’s ability to maim and kill telepathically was something that had sprung from cruel necessity. Ben was incapable of such destruction.

Ben was amazed that his father had survived this long and the more he considered it the more he felt his father was right.
He had brought telepathy thus far and it was now up to the children. For the girl’s protection it was probably better that their father’s mind wasn’t accessible and the only way to be certain of that was for his father to leave.

In the future when they were old enough to understand, there might be reconciliation. Right now his father’s mind was a cesspit of despair and fury. Ben suggested to Iona that she leave until Natasha and Rachel were old enough to understand and Iona agreed. It mattered little to her how the separation was achieved but separate they must. Ben turned to the mothers and stared dumbly at the floor as he tried to explain.

“Iona’s sick. Inside here.” (He tapped his temple for emphasis.) “If we stay around she might infect us. That’s the best way I can put it. We’re too young, especially Rachel and Natasha. Rebecca and I were horrified by what we found. We felt like medieval travellers confronting the plague. We can see its effects but we can’t do anything about it. She’s going into isolation; it’s the only way. We might meet her again when Rachel and Natasha are much older.”

“Where’s she going?” Demanded Emma, terrified to be losing her telepathic support.

“She hasn’t decided. When she’s out of range she’ll make up her mind and that way nobody will know.”

“But she hasn’t harmed us. I don’t feel damaged by her.” Objected Emma. “You’re an adult and you haven’t got telepathy. It’s the telepathy that’s vulnerable and Rachel and Natasha who are most at risk. They are still too young to understand and they can’t get properly into his mind yet. Rebecca and I can and she confessed she was ashamed of what we found. I can’t blame her. She agrees with isolation, in fact she suggested it.”

“So Iona disappears again.” Sighed Sandra.

“I’m sorry mum. Rebecca and I will be here to help. At least it’s better than suicide.”

“But you’ll be in England!” Cried Emma. “What about my telepathic service at the deaf school. Only you and your father can make a web. The girls can’t.”
Ben fell silent. Neither he nor his father had considered this and he turned to Iona for advice.

“Make it a summer school then you can visit you’re sisters during the school vacation. Americans take their summer vacation earlier so you won’t miss out on any schooling.”

Emma sagged with relief. The arrangement would actually suite her better for it left her free to concentrate on the children and her art. It would be harder for the deaf pupils though because they would not receive the constant attention. Ben recognised this and added that he could supplement her work with visits at Easter and Christmas. Money was no problem; Iona had at least seen to that. It simply meant that Ben and Rebecca would be visiting America frequently. As the group discussed solutions and options, Iona went to bed. She seemed to need more and more sleep.

‘Just like an old woman.’ Observed Mary thoughtfully.

“She’s not going to die is she mummy?” Pressed Rebecca nervously.

“No.” Confirmed Ben. “She simply finds the effort tiring. I’m holding the ring at the moment. She has always needed sleep hasn’t she Auntie Mary?”

“Yes.”

Sandra nodded her confirmation and Emma and Jacky affirmed it.

Rebecca settled next to Ben in an effort to find sibling security as she stared at Iona’s bedroom door.

“I’m afraid of daddy, there’s horrible ugly stuff in her mind. She’s weird.”

“Don’t go looking sis. When we’re older and we can understand she’ll tell us everything.”

Mary smiled as she watched Ben trying to take over his father’s roll. Ben read her thoughts and shrugged apologetically.

“What else can I do? Dad’s losing it.”

In the night Iona slipped away. Ben discovered the loss early the following morning and crept into Mary’s room.

“Dad’s gone.” He whispered.

Mary sat up and shook the sleep from her brain before cursing and wondering if there was something more she could have done.

“I don’t think so.” Offered Ben supportively. “There’re only two roads left open to her; suicide or exile. Exile’s far the better one, let’s just be grateful.”

“Will he ever come back?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Only when or if, all the ghosts are laid to rest.”

“And how will he do that?” Asked Mary as she scolded herself for being so impotent and relying on the advice of a teenaged boy. Telepathy made her feel so insignificant. Ben ignored her frustration.

“Dad’s got graves to dig and things to bury. She’ll be a long time gone.”

“And Michael? What about Michael? She still wants to reach Him.”

“Ah. Now there’s the question. You know how to ask questions.”

“And you?” Countered Mary. “Have you got an answer? Somewhere in that telepathic world you share, are there any signs; any pointers.”

“Dad spoke of a wall. A huge dense obsidian thing.”
“Yes the wall. He told me many times. Can you see it? Can you describe it?”

“It’s exactly as he described it; tall and black, no features, no end, no beginning.”

“And that describes death exactly.” Murmured Mary despondently.

“He wants to reach the other side, to reach Michael again.”

“He once told me to do that he’d have to die himself; probably commit suicide.”

“She doesn’t see it as suicide; or rather she doesn’t see ‘getting through the wall’ as the end.”

“You mean life after death.”

“If you want to call it that. I saw some of the bad stuff, the ‘wild things’ as she calls them, before she chucked me out of her mind. I’m not sure how she intends to do it.”

“Don’t you want to be there for her?”

“I’d want nothing better but I’ve got to hold the fort here amongst us.”

“So you live in hope she’ll come back.” Suggested Mary hopefully.

“I’ve no other choice. Even if she can’t come back there may be some way we can reach across the wall.”

“Telepathically you mean?” Asked Mary.

Ben nodded and frowned.

“Hell I’m beginning to think like her aren’t I?”

“Yes. She always said that solid things didn’t affect it only distance.”
“That’s right, but the wall of death isn’t solid. Two telepaths might be able to get
through it like voices from beyond the grave.

“So what do you think the wall is made of?” Asked Mary.

“There you go with your questions again. I don’t know. Fear, horror, ignorance could all be blocks in that wall. We’ve always feared death. Dad thinks that telepathy might find a way through. If only she’d stayed around a little longer until I had a better idea of how all this telepathy worked. There’s still so much to learn. We might even have worked together on the wall.”

Ben’s unfulfilled wish silenced them both and he left to break the bad news to his sisters.
Mary sat back dully contemplating the void that Iona had left. She dressed like an automaton and ignored breakfast. Nobody felt like eating for apart from Iona’s departure, the two groups were also separating as the Brits returned to London that evening. At the airport Iona’s absence was emphasised by the deathly pall of silence. Depressed by events, all the children had shut down their telepathy in subconscious mourning for their father’s disappearance. Having to sign every word reinforced Emma’s loss.

Unfortunately her signs were unintelligible to all except Jacky and several interested people overheard her audible repetition. It was only after Ben realised that others were observing and listening that he plunged into telepathic mode and screamed a warning.
It was too little, too late but at least Ben and Rebecca had managed to distance themselves from the group. Even as the Americans drove home across the continent messages were passing between high places.

Fortunately the connection had not been made between the Yanks and the Brits so Mary and co boarded the plane without incurring any further curiosity. Ben’s scanning range also ensured that they were left in peace. It was Natasha and Rachel who were now at risk.

Six months later Ben returned to America and was ensconced in a cheap motel room near the Seattle deaf school to create a web for Emma to utilise. Rebecca had also flown over and she was enjoying a sightseeing tour with Jacky and her two younger sisters. Unable to create a web for Jacky they had ignored their telepathy chattered happily away about visiting California later in the vacation. They had no chance when a car swept around the corner on the wrong side and smashed head on. Only the weight and size of the RV saved them from death but everybody suffered concussion to a greater or lesser degree. The other driver suffered broken ribs and a fractured skull. On arrival at the hospital, Natasha and Rachel were still unconscious so they were tested by a brain scan, which of course revealed the telepathy organ in the centres of their brains. Fortunately Rebecca had recovered consciousness before the emergency services had arrived. She lied, saying that she had never been unconscious for she was aware of the dangers of brain scans.

Unlike Iona and Ben’s ‘flatfish’, the girl’s telepathic organs had a female form and resembled more of a seahorse with a tail curled down to the cortex and spinal column. A concerned doctor who suspected that Rachel and Natasha might have some sort of malignant growth approached Jacky.

“Are they related?” He asked. “They have very similar features.”

Jacky turned pale with shock as she vaguely recalled Iona mentioning something in her brain. She turned questioningly to a bruised Rebecca who instantly confirmed her fears and they moved to repair the damage.

“Yes. They’re half-sisters by the same father.”

“So one of the girls isn’t yours?” Pressed the doctor.

“No. Natasha is the daughter of a friend. We both had babies by the same man.””

The doctor raised a curious eye then frowned suspiciously.

“So this growth thing in their brains. It may not be malignant.”
“No. It’s a hereditary thing.” Panicked Jacky. “It’s in their notes. It’s harmless.”

“It’s very unusual. Where are you from and who is Natasha’s mother. We’ll have to contact her if the children don’t recover soon?”

“We live down the coast. Natasha is Emma Rawlins’s daughter. You know, the artist.”

This was Jacky’s fatal blunder. She had hoped that Emma’s fame as an artist might make the doctor back off slightly but the doctor knew of Emma and her work at the deaf school.

“You mean the deaf artist, the one who works at the Deaf school in Seattle. The one with the telepathy thing going.”

Jacky almost collapsed with fear.

“Uhm- yes.”

“Does she have one of these growths in her brain?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she’s ever had a brain scan.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting. It might be connected to this telepathy business at the school.”

Jacky fell silent. Rebecca had sent a telepathic warning to her that the doctor was getting close to the truth.

“If you keep on revealing stuff Auntie Jacky. He’s going to put two and two together.”

“What shall I say?” Squealed Jacky telepathically.

“Say nothing. He’s already wondering why both girls have got the same growth.”

Rebecca’s words anticipated the doctor’s next question.

“If both girls have got the same brain structures and you say they’ve got different mothers it’s possibly on the father’s side.”

Jacky silently cursed for having tried to be so co-operative. Instead she adopted a puzzled frown and simply shrugged uncomprehendingly. The doctor handed some forms and suggested that Jacky contacted Emma urgently for the children were still unconscious. Within two hours of Jacky contacting them, Emma and Ben arrived post haste. Fortunately the children had recovered and the doctor was distracted by the condition of the other driver. The police had arrived to interview Jacky but fortunately, their dashcam showed it was clearly the other man’s fault. Later the doctor emerged to communicate with Emma. Jacky acted as interpreter.

“Mrs Rawlins do you think your daughter might have inherited this telepathic gift that you enjoy?”

Ben screamed a warning that the doctor knew about the girl’s telepathic organs and Emma swiftly took it on board.

“I don’t think so doctor. She’s never displayed any propensity in that direction. She’s not deaf and the specialists think the telepathy might be connected to my deafness.

The metabolic compensation theory.”

“Yes I’ve read about it in the medical journal. So would either of you ladies be so kind as to allow me to take a brain scan of your brains to see if you share the same genetic abnormality.”

Emma and Jacky exchanged puzzled innocent glances then shrugged their agreement. Ben confirmed that there seemed to be no danger.

“Be our guests.”
After a week the children were released from hospital and the group returned to Emma’s cabin. The doctor however had been concerned about the children’s brain developments and he had surfed the Internet for any useful pointers. He was a confirmed net surfing freak and enjoyed filling in what little spare time he had contacting other professional colleagues.

He had also checked with the family’s doctor and was puzzled to find no reference to the growths in the children’s notes. His suspicions were aroused further when his Internet inquiries turned up some references to a brain growths found in a boy in England over fifteen years ago.

That boy had disappeared and the authorities in Britain had been searching for him ever since. The biggest clue was the brief reference to some possible extra-sensory abilities related to the boy’s brain structure. The boy was believed to have left Britain illegally. The boy would be a man now. When the doctor tried to contact the surgeon concerned he was amazed to discover it was the famous Nobel Laureate, Ahmed Patel. He had met him at an international convention in New York. Medicine at the specialist level was a very small world.

Ahmed’s reticence and professed ignorance about the boy’s whereabouts only served to heighten the doctor’s curiosity and he continued to surf the net.

His overt activities soon attracted the attention of both the American and British intelligence services. Extra-sensory phenomenon had been deemed a low priority subject and what little information that existed had been pooled and shared.

Paradoxically it was out there on the same low-level priority but high level of secrecy as extra-terrestrials and UFO’s. Inevitably the Seattle specialist received a discreet visit
from his own government’s agency.

“You say both the girls have got the same brain deformity.”
“I didn’t say it was a deformity. Are you trying to somehow imply that the children are freaks? They are perfectly ordinary children to all outward appearances.”

“But inwardly?”

“All I’m saying is that they have a strange formation inside their brains and it’s a coincidence that they have the same father.”

“And that father’s name?”

“I don’t know. The mothers didn’t say. He’s dropped out of the picture.”

“Thank you very much doctor.”

“So what’s all the interest about? Why should the FBI be interested in two little girls?”

“Work it out yourself doctor.”

“There’s no resemblance to the fish thing in that English Kid’s head. These girls have got a totally different sort of growth.”

“Yes, we’ve seen the scans. Do you recall some strange goings on down here a few years back? It was some British kid in a bank raid. He was reputed to have disabled the gunmen by some sort of paranormal blast. Don’t you read the newspapers doctor?”

“I didn’t give it much credit. You know what sensationalists the press are.”
“Then this deaf girl turns up using telepathy to teach other deaf kids. That wasn’t sensationalism doctor. She’s still doing it. Your own colleagues confirm that.”

“But she can’t be related to the boy. She’s an American. Born here in Seattle.”

“Have you thought she might have been taught or influenced by the boy? Well he’s not a boy any longer is he? If it’s the same person he’ll be in his thirties. He could easily be the father of the two children.”
As the agents assembled their case it began to look more and more cohesive. The doctor tapped into his computer and together they surfed through the Internet gathering more and more snippets of information.

“I think it’s best if I call the children in for some follow up tests”

“That might arouse their suspicions.”

“I don’t see why. The four of them have got appointments for Monday anyway. They’re going on holiday in a few days so I set it for Monday for their convenience.”

“Four? Who are the four?”

“The two children Natasha and Rachel, the adult who was driving, and the British child; what was her name now.” He groped through his notes and waved the file.

“Here we are. Rebecca, Rebecca Jones.”

“Jones!” Chorused the agents with alarm. That was the bloody sir-name of the psychiatrist in Britain! She was the one who worked with the boy. You fool why didn’t you tell us this earlier”

The doctor took offence at their arrogant manner and was about to reprimand them but before he could form the words, the agents had scuttled out of the room.

Emma and Jacky were entertaining the three girls when the agents arrived. They had little warning because the girls did not have the scanning range of their half-brother Ben. He was out exploring some caves down the beach and he had switched off his telepathy to savour the wild loneliness of the Big Sur.

At the time of his sister’s abductions Ben was lying perfectly still on a grassy knoll high above the waves and watching some deer browsing on the bushes. Curious about them he tried entering their brains telepathically but like his father before him he only met with a disappointing mishmash of crude sensory perceptions.
Without a language to formulate thoughts it was like opening a book to discover blank pages. He did however detect frantic distress signals from his sisters as they were bundled into several cars. With a shocked squeal Ben bolted back towards the cabin.
As he ran he realised the girls were drawing further away from him and by the time he arrived at the cabin the cars were long gone.

He managed to keep in touch for a few hours and determined that they were in Portland but after that he lost them. With a scream of fury he searched the cabin but found no evidence of any violence or searches. They appeared to have stolen nothing and this surprised him. Even his and Rebecca’s passports lay undisturbed in the little travelling shoulder bag under the bed in the outhouse. He had been sleeping in the outhouse to allow the women and girls more privacy.

It seemed that their abductors were only interested in the girls and he stood puzzled as his eyes scanned the cabin. Then he realised they probably didn’t know he was there. He had brought very few personal possessions and his clothes were essentially androgynous; a few pairs of jeans, some trainers and some checked shirts, which were all similar in size to Jacky’s. The only evidence of there being a boy in the house was his dirty underwear in the laundry basket and it was doubtful if they had rooted through that.
‘No,’ concluded Ben, ‘they probably thought they had caught all the telepaths.’

He sat down on the porch to gather his thoughts but he was like a fish out of water. A young boy in a foreign country and up against that country’s agencies. The only thing he could do was run. Unfortunately he did not have the resources of his father. He cursed his parent’s lack of foresight for not allowing him direct access to his funds. How the hell would he get back to Britain without funds to get him to the airport? Worse still, how would he avoid the eyes and ears of immigration? His haunted eyes fell on Auntie Emma’s old pickup parked by the little ford in the stream. She rarely used it these days preferring to carry the kids around in the RV. He found the keys in the kitchen drawer and tried his luck. After a few stubborn coughs the engine kicked into life and he experimented all afternoon until he had achieved a reasonable proficiency at driving. Fortunately it was an automatic.
A last search of the cabin turned up some money and more importantly, some traveller’s cheques in his own name. Auntie Jacky had put them safe at the back of her drawer along with Rebecca’s. With his passport he would be able to cash them easily at any bank. He debated using one of the computers to contact Auntie Mary but decided against it. He could do that from an anonymous cybercafé. After securing the cabin as best he could, he collected up the papers and clambered nervously into the cab before cautiously setting off up the track. It was dark when he reached the main highway and that suited his purposes. Nobody would notice his age and he could drive all night towards the city. At a gas station he bought a wide brimmed cowboy hat to more resemble an American and to hide his youthful features.

In Portland his hopes fell as he passed the airport and realised why he had lost them. His sisters could be anywhere in America.

‘Anywhere in the world.’ He added thoughtfully. Then he realised they would probably keep them in America as laboratory rats. This thought depressed him.
His search would be restricted to the United States but it might still take him years to find them. By that time they could be brain washed or worse, vegetables. God! He wished his father were around.

He parked up in Portland and tried to work out a plan but he kept returning to the only option available. He had to get in touch with his father.

Even if he discovered his sisters, there was little he could do. Never having been exposed to the horrors and perils of his father’s childhood he had never developed the ability to maim or kill telepathically. His gift had instead developed along another avenue in extending his telepathic range up to hundreds of miles; more if the other party was also telepathic.

His first act was to contact Mary on the Internet to seek advice and organise some more
money. It came almost by return as he was sipping a coffee and attracting the glances of several other surfing nerds. American children didn’t usually drink coffee at an early age and they had noticed his unusual accent. They thought they had recognised another fellow nerd from a foreign country and they joined him at his table.
“Hi.”

Ben nodded amicably just as the printer spewed out Mary’s reply. Its ten pages contained a string of do’s and don’ts in addition to whatever suggestions she could think of for contacting Iona. The nerds casually glanced at the printout as Bill stuffed it into his pocket and drank his coffee.

“Where are you from?”

Ben sensed no animosity just a genuine interest in somebody who shared their hobby.

He put his coffee down and smiled again.
“The UK.”
“Is that England?”
“Some call it that. We call it the UK. There’s four countries in Britain altogether.”
The boys nodded and glanced at his screen.
“Where you talking to the um U-K- just then?”
“Yes; my auntie.”
This impressed the group that somebody should have a computer literate auntie. Bill tapped his pocket as he stood up.
“She sent me these notes, I’ve got to go and sort them. Nice talking, see you around.”
As he stood he suddenly had a brain wave. ‘Maybe he could use these nerds to search for his father.’
“Hey, wait a moment you guys. If you were looking for someone how would you go about it in America?”
They exchanged grins and tapped into their computers. A string of search agencies and government intelligence sights appeared on the screen.
“If he ain’t in these, he don’ exist.”
Ben grinned his thanks and typed in Iona’s name. The screen started listing hundreds of names so he promptly added ‘Evans’. The list immediately shortened and Ben printed out the list. He doubted if his father was amongst them so he co-opted the nerd’s help further and examined the listed names. Eventually he was convinced Iona wasn’t amongst them and he turned to the nerds with a disappointed shrug.
“Obviously she doesn’t exist’.”
“Don’ give up yet. Who is she anyway?”
“She’s my mom.” Lied Ben. “She left my dad in England.”
This sounded perfectly plausible to the nerds. Hundreds if not millions of kids in America were always looking for missing parents. It would be perfectly normal for a foreign kid to be looking for a lost parent.
“Have you got any other info?” They asked. “You know the sort of thing - when she left, what type of job, that sort of stuff.”
Ben gave dates and times so the group went to work with renewed vigour. The task had now become a challenge and several more nerds joined in the fun. Eventually they came up with some promising material and Ben treated them all to a round of milk shakes and burgers. Thus armed he booked into a cheap hotel were few questions were asked if cash changed hands. The true story about searching for his mother provided a perfect blind. The next day he collected more travellers’ cheques that had been forwarded by Sandra and he set off to follow his leads.
He learned that the driving age was lower in America so he was less likely to be stopped while driving the pickup. It had all the appearances of a beat up third family car, just the sort of thing that a boy would be allowed to drive. He was also only a few days short of his birthday so he would soon be able to drive legally. Alert to the dangers he decided not to risk breaking any laws so he waited until he was old enough. It was then a simple matter to take a driving test and make things legal. During the interim days he visited the cybercafé regularly to follow up additional leads until he felt he had located Iona down in New Orleans.
As soon as he came of age he travelled south until he found himself on the Texas Louisiana border. Here he had his first brush with the law. Oregon plates driven by a young kid soon attracted the police attention and they were even more surprised to find that the driver was a Brit. He was delayed several hours while they checked back but everything was in order.
Ben was quickly learning the advantages of keeping as close to the truth as possible while using his telepathy to weave the most plausible lies only when it was necessary. Eventually they let him go warning him of the particular dangers of the city whilst wishing him luck in finding his father.
He smiled his thanks and pressed on through the night until he reached the Mississippi. Here he took a wrong turning and found himself deep in the delta down in Cajun country.
Despite stories of suspicion and antagonism he found the locals helpful and he eventually crossed over the Mississippi into the city as the afternoon sun was beginning to lose its power. Hot and sweaty from the baking pick-up he booked into a first-class hotel and raised several eyebrows when his passport was presented at reception. Unaccompanied teenaged Brits were a rare event. ‘Southern Hospitality’ however, lived up to its name and he found the stereotyped image to be a total lie. Telepathy showed it to be his foreign status that attracted the goodwill and engendered a determination to show that southerners could be friendly and courteous. Ben savoured the friendly atmosphere and stepped out into the French Quarter just as dusk was falling. He had ceased scanning at the Texas border in order not to alert his father for he had no idea what his reception would be.
In the jostling crowds of frenzied tourists Ben hoped to achieve some sort of camouflage. Not the offensive camouflage of a leopard hunting its deer, or the defensive camouflage of the zebra avoiding the lion but an inexplicable in-between camouflage something like a tiger stalking an elephant. He needed desperately to locate his father but could not be sure of his reception until contact was made. The camouflage of the jostling crowds was both his vegetative cover and his stripy coat.
Slowly he sauntered amongst the crowds and peered curiously into the bars were his obvious youth denied him entry. The sights amazed him and he frequently hovered outside the open doors to gape rustically at the weird sights within. It was during one of these lapses of concentration he was suddenly caught unawares by a telepathic message.
“Is that you Ben?”
Ben froze nervously for a second then realised there was no threat. The question had been almost conversational in its casualness.
“Yes. Is that you dad?”
“Why are you looking for me? It’s too early for me to come back.”
Ben was thankful that his father hadn’t probed or scanned his mind. He had respected their unwritten code of honour not to probe without first asking. They had mutually agreed this after the horrors Ben had discovered before his father had admonished him. On realising his father was not angry Ben immediately opened up his whole mind and downloaded the events like some child confessing all his sins in one fell swoop.
Within moments Iona knew everything and cursed softly. It was bad enough that they had kidnapped her as a teenager but the girls were still children and guilty of nothing.

She did not let the saga upset her. Long inured to injustice, Iona kept her cool and settled down to formulate a plan as Ben picked his way through the crowds towards his father’s apartment. This took him off the main thoroughfare and as soon as he left the milling throng he felt the threat of darkness and isolation.
He had hardly sensed these fears before a trio of shadowy forms materialised in front of him bent on relieving him of what little money he had. For a moment Ben froze as the forms began to separate and the middle one spoke softly.
“Give us your wallet.”
For a second Ben debated running but the dull gleam of a barrel changed his mind. Furious at having been so easily caught he tugged his wallet from his jeans and dropped it at the feet of the middle mugger.
“Right. Now back up arsehole.”
Ben glanced behind him to see the other two closing in. His telepathy revealed that it wasn’t simply a mugging but a deliberate attack. ‘It couldn’t be racist,’ he decided because the muggers were all colours. It was obviously some sort of ritualistic gang rite. Another scan exposed the warped minds and he tensed nervously as he backed up to the wall to protect his back and make a fight of it. ‘If only he had his father’s ability to hit out telepathically.’
The thought had hardly entered his mind when the middle mugger let out a squeal before collapsing to the floor and shivering like a frenzied rabbit. His cronies gaped disbelievingly before rushing forward to see what was wrong.
“He’s had some sort of stroke or something.” Offered Ben. “You’d better get him to a hospital.”
The remaining pair never had the faintest suspicion that their buddy’s condition was anything but some sort of fit and they dragged him off in a panic. Ben felt the knots in his stomach slowly unravel as he realised he had just seen a vivid demonstration of his father’s awesome handiwork. Gratefully he picked up his wallet from the gutter.
“How the hell d’ you do that Dad?”
“Never mind that son. You’d best run. It’s a couple of blocks away and the coast is clear. That trio have had it coming for months.”
Ben sprinted the final few blocks and arrived gasping at his father’s door. It was in the poorest part of town and Ben’s telepathy sensed the hatred seething on the streets.
“Hell dad. How do you manage to live around here? If you were anybody else you’d be dead by now”
“I can look after myself kid. You’ve just seen that. There’s still a slight miasma of Voodoo around here and they’re a suspicious lot at the best of times.
Occasionally I give some innocent local guy a warning about some police move against them. They’re always grateful and they’ve got to know me locally.
The word’s out on the street. ‘Don’t hit the Brit’. Consequently I’ve got some very interesting and genuine friends around here. They’re a tidy bunch once they get to trust you.
“But haven’t the FBI found out yet?”
“These people detest the FBI and the CIA. It goes back to the Ku Klux Clan, the protests of the sixties, the hippie Vietnam thing and even Kennedy’s assassination. J Edgar Hoover’s also got a lot to answer for but enough of all that. We’ve got to get the girls back.
“Do you know who shot Kennedy then?” Gasped Ben.
“They’ve got no secrets from me. I’ll let you know one day but not now. There’s more important stuff so let’s get down to business.”
Iona kept a large-scale map on her wall. She took it down and spread it on the table then divided it up into parallels of latitude with a ruler and pencil.
“It’s going to be a long painstaking business son. If we’re going to find them we’ll have to search the whole continent systematically in strips as wide as our combined scanning ranges.”
“Hell dad that could take weeks. I don’t think we’ve got that sort of time.”
“Can you think of a better plan? We’ve no idea where they’re hidden.”
“They’ll be in a military base somewhere.”
Iona sighed and pulled out another map that was speckled with coloured marks. Ben studied it briefly and frowned as Iona explained.
“Those are US Military bases all over America, red for army, green for air force, blue for navy and yellow for unknown. Just look at it, there’s hundreds and I haven’t included any of the police stations.”
Ben’s optimism faded as his father’s patient systematic plan gathered plausibility. Iona pushed on.
“And don’t forget son, if either of us were stopped with this map it’s bound to raise suspicions especially with our British accents. I’m afraid it’s going to be slow painful work.”
The slow light dawned in Ben’s young brain as he stared shrewdly at his father.
“You’ve had this map for years haven’t you. You’ve been anticipating something like this since you left us in Florida.”
Iona nodded resignedly.
“Leopards don’t change their spots. If the authorities ever found out they were bound to come hunting and the girls would be vulnerable. I’m beginning to see the gender related structure of it now. It’s almost primordial. You touched on it in Florida when you spoke of the lions defending the lionesses’ territory. We’ve got to protect our own now.”
“We’ve got to find them first and then hope they haven’t been harmed. When do we start?” Pressed Ben as the urgency lent a sharp edge to his telepathy.”

“We start tomorrow. I’ve had a plan prepared for some time and money’s no object. We’ll do it East / west, because that’s the historical way America’s transport links were arranged so we’ll start in Texas and zigzag north up the map.”
“I suspect they’ll be in one of those top-secret bases in the Nevada desert.” Suggested Ben.
“Quite possibly but we’ll have to search systematically. I’ll leave a 4x4 outside you’re hotel and you can sell the old pickup legally to a car lot. Don’t dump it illegally it leaves traces and gives them leads.”
Ben studied his father respectfully.
Iona was an old hand at the fugitive game and Ben was grateful for the guidance. Telepathy was proving a remarkable tool to cross the age barriers and curb youthful exuberance.’
Iona turned to him softly as the boy reached out and squeezed her shoulders.
“I think it’s time you downloaded some more of my experience. The fugitive lessons are essential.”
They settled opposite each other on the sofa and rattled away like a pair of intranetted computers as Iona selected suitable memories. It was late when Ben returned to the hotel. He was woken again at noon by a telephone call from reception and went down to find a large envelope waiting at the desk. He left his trusty pickup in a car lot and took first offer without haggling. The less he was remembered the better his cover.
Inside the envelope was a huge sum of money and a sheaf of notes to guide him so he took a taxi back to the hotel and found some keys waiting for him at the desk. In the hotel parking lot a brand new 4X4 sat shining in the ferocious sun. By Mid-afternoon father and son were on different roads and keeping contact by telepathy.
After a tedious painstaking month they eventually located the children and the adults illegally detained in a secure USAF research unit deep in the Nevada desert. It was inside the same military restricted zone as the jet propulsion labs and an assorted mishmash of research projects cobbled together for convenience under an umbrella of security. It was extremely well protected and patrolled constantly by ground troops and helicopters. Father and son smiled victoriously as they shared their telepathic discovery. The captives were being well cared for physically but the mental stress was already beginning to tell. The younger girls having little telepathic range had been easily isolated and reduced to tears. Only the older Rebecca had successfully withstood all attempts. Iona was infinitely relieved to learn that they had not been drugged. The scientists had been in close contact with their British counterparts and heeded the warnings.
Father and son ate while they telepathically compiled a plan of attack.
“It seems that you’ll have to be the spotter son and I’ll be the artillery.”
“Can you kill at twenty miles dad?” Whispered Ben nervously as he contemplated the terrible finality of his father’s awful intentions.

“Yes, though I’m not sure I’ll have to go as far as killing anybody. Leastways not in the first instance. The first thing is to make contact with the children. They’ve ascertained it’s the children who are telepathic because of the naivety of Rachel and Natasha. They were easily trapped into revealing their abilities and the brain scans proved Rebecca has the same brain. Once they were on the right trail it took little effort and they now know that we can be identified by our brain scans. That’s the first definite lever they’ve got on us. I was always afraid of this from the day you were born.”
“You don’t regret having us do you dad?”
“Not as children son. But as telepaths I regret your vulnerability. You can’t hit back.”
“Can’t you teach me?”
“It may be too late. The horrors and terrors have to occur when the brain is still developing in early childhood. It’s like the emotional development thing. If a baby isn’t properly nurtured in its early months it loses the ability to relate properly for the rest of its life. With telepathy it seems that the changes are possible only during the early years before the parameters are set. It’s the old Chinese saying. ‘As is bent the twig so grows the tree.”
Ben cursed as he envied his father’s unique ability to strike back. It made him almost God-like. Iona frowned thoughtfully. She wasn’t really sure if having a telepathic `punch’ was really a good thing for it was open to awful abuse.
“There’s nothing to envy Ben. You’ll find out if you experience a kill. Telepathy amplifies the horror even if it’s your enemy who’s being killed.”
“I can stand it provided Rebecca is OK.”
“What about Rachel and Natasha?”
Ben suddenly realised exactly what his father had meant. He hadn’t really considered the little ones as real sisters; simply close relatives who were also telepaths. The relationship that had developed between him and Rebecca was a much more intimate affair. Even their cultural backgrounds had helped to delineate the differences. The anticipation of danger had exposed his subconscious deeper feelings for his ‘real sister’ Rebecca. Iona comforted him.
“Rachel and Natasha are still your sisters and my daughters. You’re all equally precious to me.”
Iona gave Ben a telepathic flash of the emotional attachments she had for all her children and this went some way to opening Ben’s emotional gate a little wider. Iona smiled as she peeked telepathically into Ben’s pristine emotional pastures and she envied Ben his innocence.
‘Things would change when Ben became emotionally involved with a girl.’ Grinned Iona.
For now Ben’s innocence would serve as a moral benchmark against which Iona could judge her own standards as she went in with all telepathic cannons blazing. If Ben squealed in protest, Iona would be able to draw back to the line of decency.
Ben read his father’s mind and wagged his head sorrowfully as he realised just how amoral and psychopathic Iona was. It was like soldiers becoming traumatised, unbalanced and finally battle hardened to the horrors of war; and his father’s life had been virtually one long war.

‘Was this what Rebecca had seen,’ wondered Ben, `when she had probed her father’s emotions so deeply as only girl telepaths seemed able?’

Iona and her son exchanged resigned glances as Ben sensed with foreboding his father’s ultimate destination.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get them out.”

Each drained their coffee and paid their bills separately.

Once on the road, Bill Iona explained the tactics.

“It’ll be Armageddon for them son. They won’t know what hit them. Don’t judge me, I am become death. Just be my eyes and ears- my artillery spotter.”

They drove in silence then loaded their back-packs and took a back trail before hiding the vehicles in a deep gully and starting the long painful approach on foot. They ignored the fences and cameras as their telepathy revealed the watcher’s minds and they moved when the screens were unattended. By such well-tried and tested techniques Iona eventually brought them within sight of the base. Ben was astounded at the ease of their progress and whistled when he saw the size of the complex. It was the size of a small city!

It was only now that the pair decided to contact Rebecca. She was the oldest and Ben had long ago forged special contact links with his sister. Rebecca did not bat an eye when she felt the friendly tendrils of her beloved brother’s telepathy reaching into her brain.

She acknowledged his arrival but they agreed to avoid any questions so that she could not be tortured to reveal any of their plans. Instead she gave her brother free run of her brain to establish the layout of the site and the disposition of the others.
With a full picture of the whole organisation Ben and his father adapted their plan. Iona contacted Jacky and Emma who immediately gathered Rachel and Natasha to their sides in preparation for the assault.

Ben had been expecting some sort of cataclysmic burst of telepathic energy but instead the attack came silently and sneakily. Nevertheless each soldier’s death sent a stiletto of pain slicing through Ben’s brain. It was soon mayhem; a single guard dying at his post, a whole patrol suddenly collapsing fatally, a screen watcher meeting his end as he slumped in his chair. Like some silent doomsday virus the whole sector was taken out as Ben moved forward to gather up his sisters and lead them to safety.

Anybody who spotted anything suspicious or even came within sight of Ben’s activities was detected by Iona and killed. Within an hour Ben and all the women found themselves back with Iona.

The women were ecstatic with relief as Ben herded them urgently towards the perimeter while Iona remained behind..

“You take them on Son. I’ll stay here as a rear-guard. Just leave the food and water.”

Ben caught the sadness in his father’s eyes and sensed the finality of his words.

“Come with us dad.”

“Somebody’s got to watch out for pursuit. You push on back to the 4X4's and put as much distance as you can between us. Take both vehicles. I'll steal a car from the base. Now for God’s sake go!”

“But that’s suicide dad. You’ll never make it. Come with us while there’s still time.”

“No somebody’s got to destroy all the evidence. They’ve got to believe you’re dead. If I’m killed, I’m killed. It doesn’t matter about me but you; they still don’t know about you. You’ve got to live if telepathy is to flourish. It’s up to you now.”
“But you can’t commit suicide dad!” Squealed Ben in anguish. “There’s no need. It’s a crime. Life is too precious. Look at the way those soldiers have died.”

“Their right to life was forfeit the moment they kidnapped your sisters.”

“But everybody has a right to life. You have no right to judge them dad! By killing them you became as bad as them.”

“I know that son, believe me, nobody knows that better than me. It doesn’t matter now son; my life is forfeit. I’m finished with life. There’s been too much killing. My life is soiled with it and therefore forfeit. There’s only death for me now.

“But you’ve no right to kill yourself.” Screamed Ben as he almost stamped his telepathic foot in frustration.

“If I’ve a right to life son, I’ve a right to death.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Iona paused silently as she gathered her last thoughts.

“Son, death is as much a part of life as birth. If I’ve a right to life then I’ve a right to birth and a right to death. When that life becomes unbearable then I reserve the right to choose death, at my time and my convenience. That makes suicide as much my right as life, birth and death.”

Ben let out a wail of anguish.

“No! No! I won’t let you. They can’t have you! You’re being selfish. What about us?”

“Don’t cry son. I’m doing it for you all. My end will ensure your beginning. Now get on before the whole plan falls apart and my sacrifice is wasted. You’ve a long way to go and you’ve got small children. Just leave me the food.
If by some infinitesimal chance, I survive, I’ll need the food.”

Ben fell bawling at Iona’s feet. Jacky and Emma grabbed him by the shoulders and virtually dragged him away for they had no inkling of what was transpiring telepathically between father and son. The girls were so traumatised that they refused to open up their telepathy and enlighten their mothers.

Rebecca had probed briefly but was so shocked at what she had found in Iona and Ben’s brains that she closed down immediately. She had seen some of the slayings and refused to risk any further telepathic encounters with death. Mortified by developments Ben turned and led the group away as Iona settled down to stop pursuit.

As the group reached the 4X4’s they suddenly heard the crash of a searching helicopter and a rising pall of smoke. Iona must have killed a pilot. The roar of battle increased and Ben could not resist one last peek at the destruction. Cautiously he drove to the top of a high ridge and stared across the lower hills to find the base in flames from end to end.

‘How could telepathy cause explosions and fires?’ Wondered Ben.

Then as he gaped disbelievingly, there was another huge roar of weaponry and the sky darkened with smoke and missiles. The whole area where the cave his father had been hiding, was engulfed in explosions. Ben stared dumbfounded.

‘Nothing could possibly survive that,” he surmised in terror for his father’s life.

The base’s awareness of the slayings had expanded logarithmically until they erupted swarming like ants, while Iona’s telepathy was akin to a single cannon albeit of immense calibre; but eventually the attackers had amassed enough force to return fire. For what seemed an eternity, Ben was forced to sit on the telepathic side-lines as shells crashed around the rocks and bursts of telepathic venom spat back. Eventually the telepathy seemed to weaken and Ben desperately tried to add his energy to his father’s collapsing arsenal. It was all to no avail, although they were within range of each other, he could not detect his beloved father’s sentience. The telepathy slowly faded to nothing.
Ben felt a sickening lump settling in his guts as he scanned desperately but only found a cold silent blackness. An eerie hush settled over the base and matched the dark cruel silence in his brain. He likened the blackness to the obsidian death wall his father had often described.

The silence seemed to amplify the 4X4’s engine so Ben switched off and let it roll back silently until it was behind the skyline. A last desperate scan found nothing. Nearly all the soldiers were dead or dying and the destruction was absolute. Iona had made them pay dearly.

Dejectedly Ben turned the 4X4 and lurched down the hidden gullies to follow the others. Once on the main road he drove slowly so as not to attract attention for long lines of army trucks were already streaming towards the base and he had no wish to invite their interest. He did not catch up with the girls until the next state where they had stopped at a roadside diner. Despondently he joined them and sat quietly in the next booth as they netted silently.

“Where’s Iona?” Queried Jacky.

“I think she’s dead.”

“What! Are you sure?”

“I’m not certain; I’m just not certain of anything now, but I don’t think anybody could have survived that.”
“So you’re not absolutely sure?” Pressed Emma hopefully.
“No! Of course I’m not absolutely sure but I think I hit the wall, you know, the dark thing dad used to always mention.”

“Dammit! She didn’t have to die!” Cursed Jacky.

“I think she did. The incubus had hatched. It was the only thing he could do.” Mumbled Ben.

“What d’ you mean; incubus?” Demanded Emma.

“There was something inside him. I hardly recognised it; it was so hateful. When I asked him, he called it an incubus. I looked it up in a dictionary. It’s some sort of malicious thing that grows inside you.”

Emma and Jackie fell silent. They both knew what an incubus was. Ben continued resignedly.

“Dad had finally lost all love. God knows she had little enough of it to begin with. You both know that better than I do. All those things we associate with love were difficult for her, sharing, compassion, kindness, gentleness; they were all stunted long ago in his childhood and they finally died out there today. Hate and anger were the only things left to her and she detested herself for that.

That was the incubus- the hate, the anger, the malice. She knew it was getting worse so what better way to destroy the poison than destroy herself? It solved everything, especially if her suicide could save our lives. What are those words again? ‘Greater love hath no man that he should lay down his life for others.’ That sacrifice was the only love she had left.”

“And if she is dead?” Pressed Emma.

Through bitter tears Ben stared down the highway for a long time before speaking.

“I don’t know. I only think she is dead. We should be grateful if she is. We’re free of whatever awful hate was in her; we’re safe now but the hounds of hell will be afraid.”

Chapter 4.
New Journeys.

The soldiers searched the blasted site amidst the rocks for several days before the commanders concluded that whatever it was that had decimated their numbers was no longer active. The area around the rocks was scorched and blackened for hundreds of meters and nothing had survived. There were certainly no human remains. A soot-stained, filthy sergeant approached the captain with his clothes blackened from rooting around in the hot, burnt dirt and debris.

“There’s nothing down there captain sir. Every living thing is scorched. There aren’t even any ants. Out at the perimeter we’ve found scorched remains of just about every type of desert creature and plant that lives around here but there’s nothing human. There was nothing at all in the centre and we didn’t miss a single inch of ground. The lieutenant’s still down there sir with the men.”

“The radio crackled as the captain consulted the lieutenant.”

“Nothing sir; everything’s been incinerated. Even some of the rocks were melted. That’s how hot it was down here. It’s my guess that everything living in this crater was literally vaporized.”

“OK lieutenant. I’m coming down myself.”

The sergeant joined the captain in the jeep and it bounced furiously amidst the smouldering rocks as they drove deeper into the scorched crater. They had used some of their most powerful weapons in the attack and nothing short of a nuclear explosion could have caused a bigger hole. The crater was filled with huge heaps of black, silent, smouldering soil and sand that bore silent witness to their efforts. It was still so hot and uncomfortable, that the crater was still barely tenable and the sweating lieutenant emerged from the smoking, sooty ash to acknowledge his captain. He drank greedily of a proffered bottle of water before confirming the sergeant’s words.
“Nothing sir. Just look around you. The sooty dirt is ten feet deep for it was loosened and turned over by the blasts. Everything has been totally incinerated.”

The captain nodded affirmation as he scanned the devastation.

“OK lieutenant call off your men. Short of excavating the whole crater like a bloody quarry and sieving all this dirt, there’s nothing else we can do.”

The lieutenant waved his arm to signal to his men and they gratefully dispersed to the cool boundary. Once outside the crater they circled the burning hole and gathered at the search centre to address their scorched boots and desperate thirsts. It was rapidly concluded that nothing could have survived the attacks but the captain still posted extra, fresh lookouts to monitor the crater until further notice.

Within a couple of days, the site was finally abandoned by the military except for a few desultory guards who soon became bored with protecting a remote, burnt crater in the desert.

Iona wasn’t dead. An early blast near her cave had cracked a huge rock and stunned her as it exposed a fissure going deep under the cliff. Still dazed by the blast, she recognised the increasing danger from the assault. Dizzily, Iona had crawled gratefully into the newly opened fissure and scramble desperately on her belly for tens of meters deep into the desert bed-rock. There the fissure had eventually widened into a subterranean cavern and she was able to stumble down the crevice deep into the bowels of the earth. Eventually, the final, massive assault had kicked up so much loose sand and dirt that the narrow fissure had been promptly filled in behind Iona. The dirt was ten feet deep inside the fissure and she was now buried alive hundreds of meters under the cliff. From deep inside the rocky ridge she could still feel the shock of the explosions but short of some sort of direct hit by some fancy `earthquake’ type bomb, she was safe far below in the comforting bowels of the Earth.

She stopped her Telepathic assault and settled down to wait. In the interim she rationed some of her food from her backpack for her telepathic war had left her famished. Finally she switched off her torch and fell asleep.
The next day she knew she simply had to wait until the ‘coast was clear’ so she carefully explored the deep cave only to discover some old Indian artefacts.

`Hmm,’ she mused, `these look really old; this must have been some sort of burial place.’

She decided not to disturb any more than she had to. There was no cause to desecrate an old burial chamber any further. She slipped a couple of the most interesting artefacts into her back-pack and settled down to just lie and wait.

Several nights later a tiny disturbance in the sooty soil heaped up under the scorched overhang might have betrayed Iona’s existence to a more alert watcher. Under the fractured rock a bloodied hand with torn nails emerged to carefully scrape away the loose, detritus that had covered the fissure. Beneath an ink-lack night sky, a blackened face finally got its first peep at the desert as Iona carefully scraped away the blasted sand and dirt.
Then a telepathic scan, sparingly used because of its energy demands, finally convinced the sooty troglodyte that it was safe to emerge.

Eventually, she squirmed out through the tiny gap and quickly re-packed the dirt to hide any sign of her egress. Long before dawn, the tiny figure had disappeared down a deep gully and found itself a safe stopover under some distant rocks to hide away during daylight hours. Another brief telepathic scan reassured her that she had not been detected and she settled down to a hot uncomfortable day. Night found her moving again after eating the last of her food.

For the next two nights a hungry Iona scrambled frantically along the deep gullies putting desperately needed miles between her and danger. Finally, a gaunt, filthy apparition reached a highway and tarried awhile before using the next night to make her way towards the same roadside cafe-motel where she and Ben had prepared their previous plan.

That following night, in the garbage cans outside the back, she found sufficient scraps to assuage her desperate hunger. An outside water tap did the same for her thirst. The next tactic was to find a suitable, parked truck, sneak aboard and get more distance under her belt. Telepathy soon enabled her to check each truck driver’s mind and choose the best destination. Finally Iona escaped the area and eventually found herself in a modest town at the edge of some unidentified Indian territory. Her usual tactics quickly found her some clothes and after making herself presentable, she decided to face the following day. Early morning found her testing the teller Machine in the wall but it soon proved that her access to the banking system had finally been blocked. Despite legally possessing vast amounts of money, she was now denied immediate access to her own property.

‘Government sanctified theft,’ she concluded.

She now had to get to a big city and activate one of her many pre-prepared alternative identities to get to other resources. Two days of hitchhiking found her in a mid-western city and a few hours of careful preparation had finally accessed some of her vast portfolio of alternative funds. Iona had a new financial identity as an ethnic, Native American and she immediately booked a room for cash in a cheap motel where no questions were asked. It was a shabby, seedy place in the poorer part of town but it suited Iona’s plans.

She was so dark and sunburnt that despite her almost white blond hair, she resembled a half blood Native American and she smiled ruefully at the image in her motel mirror. Sunglasses hid Iona’s noticeably turquoise eyes for those remarkable eyes were a dead giveaway.

`God!’ She grinned. “Apart from the almost white hair and turquoise eyes, she looked dark enough and sun-beaten enough to resemble an old Indian plains-woman.

All she needed was an ethnic shawl and a suitable old felt hat.’

Instead she lingered in her shower to remove the last traces of the soot and dirt then she slumped on the bed and slept the day around only to wake the following morning as the Motel proprietor tapped on her door.

“If you want to stay another day lady, you’d better pay more rent.”

Iona opened the door and dug out the cash to reserve another week of uninterrupted nights. The proprietor pocketed it without any questions and Iona was set to move forward with her life. A few days later, the ‘half-blood Indian woman’ bought a 4X4 and at the end of the week she was making her way north again.

With her disguise improved by purchasing a pair of deep brown `contact lenses’ Iona had removed the giveaway feature of her remarkable turquoise eyes whilst simultaneously improving her appearance as some sort of middle aged Native American woman. Soon she was crossing some Indian lands and her heart sang as she enjoyed her newfound Freedom.

She had no firm plans for the future because she could not seek out her children. It was now up to Ben and Rebecca to protect the future of human telepathy. Fortunately, Ben now had the telepathic range to keep the enemy at arm’s length whilst they were well provided for materially because of Iona’s many years of fiscal alacrity.

That afternoon after ten hours on the road, Iona stopped at a small town in `Hicksville’ to eat and fill up her tank. She also had to remove the brown contact lenses because they irritated her eyes. She was glad to have kept the sunglasses. Besides. The sun was strong and they certainly helped her eyes.

She had no real, fixed plan for the immediate future so her next move was to find another cheap motel. Then, as she returned to her 4X4, she heard a commotion in the car park behind the diner. Two Native Americans were arguing with a younger Indian girl and the exchange was getting heated. Well-fed and well rested, Iona idly read the minds of the protagonists and realised there was some sort of tribal issue between the girl and the two Indian men.

She thought no more about it as she switched off her telepathy then stepped towards her car as the three Indians continued arguing. Suddenly the men tried to grab the girl but she let out a shriek of anger and dashed towards the nearest obvious refuge; the only other `Indian woman’ in the car park, namely Iona. Iona had just started the engine and was about to pull away as the girl grabbed at the unlocked passenger door and scrambled frantically into her 4X4.

“Don’t let them catch me!” She squealed as Iona paused angrily. She didn’t like people bursting uninvited into her private, lonely world.

“Why?” Asked Iona as she locked the doors electronically and pulled out onto the road.

“They’re trying to make me work for them!”

A quick telepathic probe confirmed that the Indians were not some sort of pimps and the girl was not some sort of victim of prostitution; although she was certainly pretty enough to have been somehow kidnapped and forced into that way of life. Iona realised that the issue was some sort of tribal thing and the men wanted the girl to return immediately to the tribe. Wearily Iona stopped her car and invited the girl to get out.

Iona wanted no trouble and antagonising the Native Americans in their own tribal area was a certain invitation to trouble. The girl screamed frantically and begged the woman to keep driving.

“You don’t understand! I’m Winkt’e! Keep driving, please!”

The girl’s declaration was so forceful that Iona concluded it needed more investigation.

`What the hell was a winkt’e?’ She wondered.’

She voiced her thoughts and the girl explained.

“My father is a shaman but he’s getting old and the tribe expect me to take over.
They’ve been grooming me for this day. I don’t want to be a shaman. I’m a Winkt’e. Your people might call it `one of the other sexes’.”

“A berdache or something,” offered Iona, “or a transsexual?” Continued Iona uncertainly, “or some other sort of alternative sex.”

“Sort of. You’re people would say that. A berdache is a white man’s term for our other peoples. It’s a bit insulting really; we native people don’t see sexuality as something black or white, or simply male or female like your people. We are more spiritual than the white man, we're nearer to nature.”

The frightened girl paused to study the older woman and she frowned at the white hair. “You’re not full blooded are you? You’ve obviously lost our ways.”

“Something like that,” countered Iona evasively, “so why do they want you back?”

“When my father dies, they will need a new shaman, a medicine woman, somebody who knows the ways.”

“And that’s you,” replied Iona as telepathy revealed all, “the tribe have invested everything in you and you don’t want it.”

The girl’s demeanour softened apologetically as she tried to explain.

“I’ve just graduated from university medical school. I’m on my way to becoming a doctor. I want to see things and do things. I don’t want to be tied down to the reservation like a prisoner.”

“Is it really like that?” Pressed Iona. “Have you really talked about it; at length I mean, with the other tribal elders and your father?”

“They won’t listen. I know they won’t. They were reluctant for me to go to medicine school.”

“So how did you manage to go?”

“There are bursaries and scholarships. I studied hard and won a scholarship.”

“And how did you manage to run that past your father?”

“He couldn’t refuse could he? I was over eighteen and I had my scholarship. In the end he had to let me go but the tribe were always sniffing around. Checking up on me.”

“Or maybe just seeing that you were OK.” Iona argued.

“Or checking up to see that I didn’t lose my virginity. A medicine woman is best left as a virgin.”

“Wow! “Giggled Iona unwittingly revealing her extensive range of knowledge. “That’s an old tradition. Just about every vestal virgin in the ancient world ran that gauntlet.”

“Yeah. Well that was then. This is now. How would you have liked it to have the tribal sex police always on your shoulder?”

Iona shrugged. There was no useful answer. The girl, or rather young woman was obviously a `modern – day – miss’. The girl looked behind down the road and frowned.

“Dammit! They’re following us. Can’t this thing go any faster?”

“It doesn’t need to. They can’t harm you now.”

“What d’ you mean?”

Iona smiled and turned to the frightened girl.

“They’ll pull over in a minute. When we’re well out of town.”

The girl fell silent and peered nervously down the road again.
“How do you know that? They’re gaining on us. Go faster, please, plee-ease!”

“Don’t panic girl! I told you they will pull over, and they will; right!”

Iona’s forceful statement worried the girl. She wasn’t sure if Iona was a threat or a help. She peered down the road again and whimpered nervously as her tone rose to a screech.

“They’re gaining on us!”

“And as soon as we leave the town limits, they’ll give up. Trust me girl.”

“They’ll be alongside us before then!”

“Yes. They will.”

“But what if they ram us or something. Those guys are the tribal police.”

“Stop worrying girl. They’ll pull over shortly. Is that the town name post?”

The girl nodded and tensed fearfully as the pursuing tribal police closed the last few meters.

After another couple of miles, the two cars pulled level and the Indian police made a sign to pull over but Iona just smiled and waved. The Indian girl started to wail nervously but Iona wound down the window and released a gentle telepathic pulse. Before the disbelieving girl’s eyes, the policemen visibly sagged in the car as it slowed to a harmless crawl. Finally the police car pulled gently over onto the verge as the girl watched them both slump over the dashboard. Nobody had been hurt and it had all happened so peacefully that the girl could hardly believe her own eyes.

“They’ve stopped!” She declared with delightful surprise as relief softened her sweet musical voice.

“I said they would.” Declared Iona. “Now what do you want to do?”

The Indian girl fell silent for she had no certain plans for the immediate future. She had hoped to somehow get to her father and possibly persuade him to let her go; to release her from the tribal obligations. Iona read her thoughts and sighed.

“Why don’t you want to be the tribal shaman?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be the shaman. It’s all the other stuff that goes with it. I have to live with the tribe and be the wise old council. That’s not so bad but it’s the children thing. I have to remain pure so I can’t have children; well at least not until I’ve handed down all the herbal wisdom and crossing over stuff to my acolyte.”

“Who is?” Inquired Iona.

“Who is not chosen yet,” finished the girl, “they won’t choose my acolyte until my father dies.”

“And that looks like years yet.” Finished Iona.

“Exactly! He’s as strong as twenty buffalo. I want my children while I’m still young, I want to enjoy them while I’m young enough to enjoy them and there’s less risk of complications.”

“So, you’re a wi, - a win, - what is it, - “

“A Winkt’e.”

“Some sort of alternative lifestyler; a lesbian I fancy. Doesn’t that complicate things; with the children thing I mean?”

“Yeah, a lesbian. You’re people would say that, but that doesn’t preclude me having children. The tribe accepts that. There are two Winkt’e families in the village. Their children don’t suffer any prejudice or abuse and the Winkt’e sit on the council just like everybody else.”

“Oh I’m sure they do,” replied Iona,” so it’s the shaman thing that really gets to you.”

“Well. Yes; actually. It’ll put my childbearing plans back years.”

“Have you discussed it in detail with your father?”

“He won’t hear of it. He won’t even talk of it.”

“Oh I don’t think it’s cast in stone girl. Here we are. This is your turn off for the village I believe?”

The girls gasped and stared at Iona for there were no markings to reveal the turn off. The road-side verge looked pristine. The Indians only used it as a pedestrian access. Nobody could have possibly recognised the turn off without some sort of prior knowledge.

“Yes. How did you know that? We don’t usually publicise the whereabouts of the village and it moves around to avoid becoming known.”

Iona turned, pulled her headscarf down then removed her sunglasses to reveal her freakishly blond hair and knowing turquoise eyes. The young Indian girl gasped and peered into the newly revealed face.

“God! You’re not old are you. I thought with that hair, so white, and the head scarf, - I thought you were an old woman.”

“Thoughts can lie.” Sighed Iona, even though she knew that statement to be the complete opposite of what she had just said. Other people’s thoughts never lied to Iona! She could read them like an open book.
“But, - but you’re young, - what, - say thirty something.”

“Something like that,” replied Iona as she spun the wheel and turned down the track.

The girl became agitated.

“You mustn’t just visit the tribe without invitation. You’ve just revealed the turn off with your tyre tracks. Let me wipe the marks. It’s not allowed!”

Iona drove a few yards then stopped and waited patiently while the girl frantically cancelled out the tyre marks. Finally she re-joined Iona and reluctantly conceded that if she must arrive un-announced then she must.

“You can say you’ve just invited me.” Suggested Iona. “You’re still a member aren’t you?”

The girl hesitated. She had not yet been initiated into the tribal elders because of her absence at medical college. Iona’s telepathy recognised this and she quickly stopped the car.

“Oooh, of course! You’re not yet a member of the council yet are you.”

The girl whispered a fearful `No’, and Iona let out a sigh.

“Well, I’ll not let that make any more trouble for you. If you want. I’ll put you off here and drive to the village alone. They can’t actually kill me can they.”

“No but if they associate you with me, it might make trouble for me and the tribal police have got cell-phones.”

“Don’t worry about the police. They’re still asleep. And your father will be more pleased than annoyed that you’ve returned voluntarily. Once that’s over with, we can address the other issues in good time.”

The girl fell silent then turned to study Iona.

“What is it with you? Ten minutes ago, you never even knew me. Now you’re my guardian angel.”

“It’s you father I want to meet. Meeting you was pure serendipity.”

“Why’s that.”

“You mentioned just now, about your father being the shaman and `crossing over’.”

“Yee-ess,” replied the girl cautiously.

“Well, I want to discuss the ‘crossing over’ stuff with an Indian shaman. I’ve heard about this crossing over business and I want to know more. They say you can talk with the dead don’t they?”

“It’s not like that exactly. It’s more spiritual than necrophiliac. Anyway, your people will never understand it.”

“Neither will yours if you don’t learn from your father. The gift will be lost to the whole tribe.”

The girl fell silent again for a moment then spoke again.

“Are you really part people; our people I mean?”

“No, but I’m closer to some stuff than the rest of my people. This crossing over stuff is important to me.”

“But it takes years, and you have to have gifts.”

“I know. I do.”

“Do what?” Frowned the girl.

“Have gifts.”

“Huh! Like what?”

“Those police. They stopped following us didn’t they and they’re still asleep? The turn off for the village, I knew where that was and there was absolutely no sign. You don’t normally take vehicles into the village do you, - leastwise not so as to betray it’s whereabouts.”

The Indian girl fell silent and stared at the turquoise eyed stranger, for stranger she had suddenly become. Iona smiled to reassure her then offered her the option again.

“D’ you want to come with me to village or d’ you want to get out here? I can promise you that you will be safe.”

“Huh! How?”

“The reservation police. Are they not still asleep? No one will be able to harm you.”

The girl’s expression turned from fearful realisation to outright curiosity before she finally acknowledged that something really special was afoot. Finally she whispered nervously.

“You have got gifts, haven’t you; real gifts! You’re just not afraid are you?”

They were approaching some small hills and Iona smiled then slipped the 4x4 into four by four traction gears before replying.

“Not any more I’m not. D’ you want to come into the village with me?”

The girl smiled and looked towards the hills where the village lay hidden.
“They’ll be shocked that somebody found the village coming this way by design and not by accident.”

“That’s bye the bye,” added Iona as she slipped the clutch and they set off across the pristine ground.

After realising that the stranger must actually know exactly where the village lay the girl concluded finally that she must be somehow gifted. She slowly opened up as she sought to gain an ally in any arguments about her tribal future.

“My name’s Dawn by the way.”

“Glad to meet you,” replied Iona, “my name is Iona. Dawn’s a pretty name, it matches your beauty.”

The girl had the courtesy to blush self-consciously and Iona smiled kindly as she continued.

“And your father’s name is `He that see’s.”

“How did you know that?” Gasped Dawn.

“I told you I have the gift. If you are honest with me, I am honest with you.”

Dawn stared nervously but Iona quickly put her at ease.

“When I have spoken with your father, much will be revealed. Don’t be frightened.”

Dawn fell silent and watched as Iona continued unerringly for the hills behind which the village lay.

“How do you know the way so well?”

“I told you. It’s the gift.”
“You mean you can read sign as well?”

“It’s a very powerful gift Dawn, I don’t need signs, I don’t need to track like a hunter, don’t be afraid.”

Finally, Dawn fell silent and settled into the comfortable seat while the 4x4 bounced and lurched as it ate up the long featureless miles. Eventually, they topped the umpteenth brow and Dawn found the village laid out immediately in front of the 4x4. Iona had navigated with un-nerving precision.

“How did you do that? Everybody else goes via that huge buttress over that way to keep their bearings. It’s just so easy to get lost around here.”

Iona smiled and gunned the 4x4 as she approached the village from their unusual direction thus catching the villagers off their guard. Startled faces appeared from various abodes as the 4x4 lumbered cautiously towards the communal council centre.

By the time they had reached the council place a small group of elders had gathered. Dawn’s father was not among them and when they recognised Dawn their expressions were more uncertain than unfriendly.

Iona finally clambered down from the 4x4 and Dawn only then realised how small the stranger was. The elders looked at her impassively for the woman obviously implied no physical threat. Iona immediately used telepathy to gauge the mood and find the senior council member. Having found him she reached back into her 4x4 and produced some gifts. Dawn gasped with shock for she had immediately recognised them as very valuable and more importantly, genuinely native artefacts. She was about to demand where Iona had got them but the elders’ eyes had already lit up. Not with greed but pure delight. The artefacts obviously had a huge provenance to the elders. Their surely resentment rapidly turned to joy as Iona indicated that the artefacts were theirs if they wanted them. The elders desperately wanted them. They were old tribal totems that had been lost for hundreds of years. In some long-recorded battle, their tribe had lost to another tribe and the war chief had made off with the sacred tribal relics to prevent them falling into enemy hands.
Dawn’s tribe had made ancient copies of them based on tribal memory and perhaps going back maybe one hundred and fifty years but the items Iona had found were the priceless originals. They were probably five hundred years old. Artefacts going back long before the Spanish conquistadors had arrived.

The council leader’s eyes filled with tears as he gently took the ancient axe and carefully studied the markings cut into the handle. There were even some fragments of the leather tails that one of the tribal forbearers would have wrapped around his wrists to avoid losing it in battle. Finally, he handed the axe with huge respect to another council member while he reverentially cupped the small, decorated bowl. Then each elder in turn handed the artefacts down to the next. As each council member studied them religiously, Iona stood patiently scanning the intensity of emotion flooding their minds. Never had an accidental find proved so fortuitous. Eventually the old leader spoke deferentially.

“Where did you get these?”

“I found them.”

“Yes. Obviously you found them, but where. Was it in one of your people’s museums?”

“No. It cost me blood.”

“How so?”

“I was in fear of death, hiding in a cave. I found them in a cave deep underground.”

“Where?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Please. These things are important to our tribe.”

Iona gauged the council’s sincerity and recognised the intensity of emotion. By now the whole village had gathered and feelings were running high. Fortunately, they were feelings of joy and ecstasy; indicating immense affection towards the strange little woman who had appeared from the wrong side and yet brought great respect to the tribe.

Iona took a deep breath and nodded to Dawn as she courteously excused herself from the elder’s presence.

“May I speak with the maid please?”

“She is `He-that-sees’ daughter.”

“Yes. And she comes looking for reconciliation.”

The old man frowned and fingered the axe thoughtfully.

“Is this a bribe to help her argument?”

Dawn crimsoned with anger at the slur for she had absolutely no idea of the axe’s existence.

Iona quickly put things right as she motioned to the elder and asked him to step from the rest of the council members. Once they were out of earshot Iona whispered to the man.

“The maid is completely innocent. She knew nothing of the axe or the other things, and she knows nothing of me. You would want proof of this I deduce.”

The elder peered intently at the tiny white-haired woman and nodded uncertainly.

“Have you proof?”

Iona nodded as she checked out the man’s integrity. Then she determined her strategy. She leant right into the man’s ear and extracted a ferocious oath of secrecy.

“If I lead you to the grave, will you promise to keep what I tell you a complete secret.”

The man gasped incredulously.

“The grave! The grave you say!

“Yes. In the blackness of my hiding place I found bones as well as other totems. I was afraid for my life and could not carry them all. They should still be there. If you promise never to reveal what I now show you, I will lead you to them.”

The man trembled with anticipation and promptly swore his oath never to tell. Having telepathically checked the man’s sincerity and integrity, Iona warned him.

“I am going to enter your mind. Something like’ He that sees’ does when he crosses over. Are you ready?”

The council leader flinched uncertainly.

“Will it harm me?”

“No,” stated Iona with absolute certainty, “it won’t hurt you at all. Now watch my lips.”

The man turned to peer intently at Iona’s firmly sealed mouth as she slipped her simple sentence like a stiletto into his mind.

“There. That wasn’t painful was it?”

The elder gasped as he realised what Iona had just done.

“My God! You are a seer!”

“I am. Place an image in your mind; anything!”

The elder did so and Iona responded.

“You are imagining a flying bear. He was the owner of the bones in the grave.”

The elder gasped again, for only the council leader got to learn of the name of the great chief who had been betrayed in battle and been forced to flee with the tribal totems so many centuries ago; long, long before the coming of the white race.

“You must not tell!” He begged.” I am sworn to secrecy.”

“Your secret is as safe with me, as my telepathy is with you. Now, you must trust me that the girl knows nothing of these things. If you wish, I will show you the grave.”

“When?”

“Right now. Prepare yourself for my images.”

Once more the council leader flinched uncertainly but he was delightfully surprised to sense the images sliding easily into his brain as Iona `down-loaded’ telepathic image after image. Eventually the elder breathed with relief and spoke.

“I would never have believed Flying Bear could have got that far on foot. There were no horses then, the Spanish gave us horses.”

“Why. Where was the battle?” Asked Iona.”

“It was in Mexico, on the southern banks of the Rio Grande.”

Iona mentally measured the distance to Nevada and nodded agreement. For a man running for his life on foot to have carried so many artefacts; he must have been a strong durable warrior.
When she had found the remains, Iona had decided that she would only take the axe and a few tiny items because she had to travel light. Iona was not a physically strong person. The council elder discussed the artefacts eagerly as Iona agreed to his request to `see’ the grave images again and she telepathed them into his brain. The old man closed his eyes as his smile widened.

“A see it all now. A lot of those artefacts are shamanic. They would tell our tribe and your archaeologists a lot about our early native customs and beliefs. Will you take us there?”

Iona swallowed uncertainly. It’s dangerous for me, they want to steal my gifts, or at least abuse them. I do not wish to return there. You must go there and make serious objections to the desecration of a valuable tribal holy place. When they argue, you need only excavate under the cracked rock to the East of the crater and all the remains will be revealed deep inside the cave. Any issues you have with the state archaeological authorities will be for your tribe to resolve.”

“We could just take them; if you got out of the cave undetected, I’m sure our scouts can get in undetected.”

Iona smiled at the old man’s chain of thought and she warned him.

“You must respect the integrity of the site.”

The council elder gave Iona an `old fashioned look’, nobody would respect the sanctity of such an important piece of their tribe’s history more than the tribe itself. The very existence of the legend and the artefacts to support the story would be material enough to build a tribal history centre. A museum to bring the tourists flocking. What was more, the carbon dating of all the organic remains would absolutely ensure the validity and integrity of the artefacts. It would be like the crown jewels of England to his tribe and many other Native Americans.

Iona smiled as the man’s hopes grew and she quickly brought him back to earth.
“Now, about the maid, `He-that-see’s’ daughter. I see your hopes and aspirations, so what of her hopes and aspirations?”

“You must first speak with `He-that-sees’”

“So, where is he?”

“Up in the hills somewhere.”

“Doing what?”

“Shamanic things probably. He usually goes up when the moon is full and comes back as the light fails with the waning moon. “

“Right. I have to see him.”

“Then you had best take his daughter. She used to go with him when she was his young acolyte so she should have a good idea of where he might be.”

The tribal elder was mildly surprised and a little upset at the abruptness of Iona’s response for he had hoped the strange seer would at least stay for some food. Instead, Iona broke the telepathic link with a final warning about secrecy then called Dawn to the 4x4.

“Get in. We’re going to find your father. The tribe will have to discuss your other issues when we get back.”

Dawn was secretly relieved that her unexpected return to the village had not precipitated any antagonism towards her for she had been dreading her reception. Eagerly she clambered into the 4x4 as Iona made their temporary farewells to the council.

As the 4x4 was creeping through the throng of excited children, she turned to Iona.

“How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Replied Iona.

“Don’t play with me. That gift thing. What were you doing with the chief.”

“I’ll explain when I meet with your father.”

“OK then, take this track. This time of the year he’s usually in those hills collecting herbs.”

Iona followed Dawn’s instructions and soon they arrived at the steep slopes. Even the 4x4 could not tackle these inclines so Dawn explained.

“It’s on foot from here. How good are you at walking?”

“I can manage,” replied Iona as she measured the track and likened it to the old Goat track on Crib Fawr in her long-forgotten Welsh Homeland.

Dawn set off briskly hoping to somehow demean the elfin woman but she was amazed when the tiny figure matched her pace for pace and arrived at the top of the huge buttress without even breathing heavily.

“Shit! You’re fit,” panted Dawn.

Iona shrugged dispassionately and looked at the next pitch.

“Which way now?”

Dawn sagged against a handy ledge and waved her hand.

“Just wait a minute. I have to catch my breath. Shit! Where did you learn to climb like that? You’re like a mountain goat!”

Iona smiled. Mountains were meat and drink to her. She explained about her early childhood and Dawn slowly smiled.
“You’re a quiet one aren’t you?”

“Enough talking. Catch your breath and let me know when you’re ready.”

Dawn let out a sigh and nodded.

“I’m OK now, but a little slower in future.”

“It was you who set the pace,” countered Iona, “I only followed.”

“Yeah. OK. Point taken. Come on. He should be on the next ridge or somewhere just beyond it.”

Iona motioned for Dawn to lead and she followed easily behind. Within an hour they were at the crest of the sharp ridge and Dawn finally turned to Iona.

“He’s normally around here somewhere at this time of year. The herbs he uses only grow amidst this basaltic scree.”

Iona did a brief `scan’ and motioned towards a dark buttress about a mile away.

“He’s over there. Under that overhang.”

Dawn gave her a knowing look as she smiled.

“The gift?”

“The gift,” agreed Iona.

“Jee’se! You’re something special, you are. My dad is going to enjoy having you around.”

The pair set off across the loose, scree fine scree that started just below the skyline of the ridge. Dawn watched nervously as rivulets of fine gravel broke loose from their footfall to start rolling down the impossibly steep slope and accumulate mass just like any avalanche. She whispered to Iona.

“This is dangerous. One slip and you could end up at the bottom of the gorge.”

“Trust me,” replied Iona, “there are firmer footings in a few yards.”

And so it was. Dawn heaved a sigh of relief as she finally found solid rock again. The scree had changed colour from black basalt to deep red sandstone and the higher slopes of the ridge were devoid of scree. Sandstone being softer eroded faster and the winter snows at this high altitude helped to wash the sandstone a little further down the slopes with each spring thaw. It also left little clefts in the softer rock to find a firmer footing.

Dawn and Iona soon crossed the remainder of the ridge and found themselves at the foot of the buttress. Dawn motioned silently to Iona and invited her to circle under the buttress overhang. Finally, in a deeper cavity they found Dawn’s father `He-that-sees’ curled up like a cat on a crude wooden cot. Iona immediately did a telepathic scan and gasped. There seemed to be almost no sentience at all in the old man’s head. Then she sighed with relief, there was a spark of life but it seemed just so remote and insignificant that Iona could hardly credit it with the existence of life. She bent down over the old man and peered intently into his calm placid face before looking up at Dawn who seemed unconcerned.

“He’s in some sort of extremely deep trance.”

“Yes, he’s crossed over. Don’t disturb him.”

“How does he go so deep? It’s much deeper than an ordinary sleep or even an anaesthetised patient under surgery.”

“He uses herbs,” replied Dawn as she stepped deeper into the shallow cave and indicated assorted herbs drying in bunches. There was also a small seep of dripping water that provided for `He-that-sees’ minimalist existence. The cold remains of a fire indicated that Dawn’s father had been unconscious for perhaps a day. Dan felt the embers and wagged her head with disapproval.

“He’ll be cold when he returns. I’ll relight the fire but we’ll need more wood.”

Iona took the hint and scrambled down a narrow rocky path into a dense thicket of birch wood. There she gathered an assortment of wood and kindling and returned to find that Dawn had already lit the fire with the stored makings that her father had gathered previously. After adding to the diminished pile, Iona sat with Dawn and they chatted about `Crossing over’.

“Dad uses herbs to induce a sort of deep trance then he concentrates like mad as he goes unconscious.”

“Has he described it to you?”

“Yes. I’ve even been a bit of the way with him but he wouldn’t let me go all the way.

He said I wasn’t ready and that I was too young.”

“Well that would figure.”

“Why. How would you know?”

Now that Iona had finally found an Indian Shaman that genuinely seemed to know how to reach the `wall’, even if he couldn’t cross it, Iona felt it was safe to reveal all to Dawn. The girl had fulfilled her part of the deal to introduce Iona to her father so it was only right that Dawn should now learn why. Iona turned to Dawn and smiled softly.

“D’ you want to know a secret Dawn?”

“I think I already know it.”

Iona’s scan confirmed Dawn’s thoughts. `The Indian maid had realised correctly.’

“You’re right Dawn,” smiled Iona affectionately, “I can read your thoughts and your thoughts are correct; I’m telepathic. I can read people’s minds.”

Even though Dawn had anticipated this discovery it still left her nervous and uncertain. Iona sensed the girl’s fear so she moved quickly to reassure her. Firstly Iona moved to the mouth of the cave to remove the `proximity threat’ that nearly always permeated every woman’s psyche when they found themselves uncomfortably close to a stranger. At the entrance to the cave, Iona turned and spoke softly over `He-that-see’s’ sleeping form.

“Firstly, let me reassure you that I will never hurt you.”

Iona sensed Dawn physically relax so she continued.

“Would you like to communicate with me telepathically?”

“Will it harm me?”

“No, but your every thought will be laid bare. There are no secrets from a telepath.”

Dawn thought for several moments and frowned as she realised that `If what Iona said was true,’ then she already knew everything. Any resistance to having her innermost thoughts and sexuality laid bare was useless. Dawn grinned to herself as she recollected the old science fiction euphemism, `our weapons are useless against them general!’ Iona grinned back and nodded as Dawn’s resistance crumbled.

“I can’t stop you can I?” Dawn sighed.

“No dear, but you could join me. It’s much nicer when you share it.”

“And it won’t harm me in any way.”

“No. I didn’t hurt the council elder did I?”

“Is that what you were doing?”

Iona nodded and kept her counsel as she waited for Dawn to make up her mind. Eventually the young woman nodded her head slowly. Iona smiled and sat down by the sleeping old man then nodded her head slightly to warn Dawn.

“I’ll send a thought into your head and when you receive it, simply think back your answer. You won’t need to talk. You will first feel a very pleasant sensation.”

Dawn nodded and settled back into her rocky recess in anticipation. Suddenly she smiled as an exquisite pleasure sifted into her brain and Iona’s message seeped into her pleasure centres.

“Did you like that?”

“My God! Yes! It’s fantastic. How did you do that?”

“It’s easy and beautiful. Telepathy can do lots of things. Shall we continue?”

“Yes. But less of the pleasure thing. You could turn me on! You know I am Winkt’e so let’s just keep it platonic.”

“As you wish. Shall we go and catch some food while we chat?”
Dawn fancied a walk amongst the birch woods. It was only a small copse of trees but there was a beautiful stream running through it and it was remote. As a child, Dawn had often savoured the complete privacy as she played there while her father busied himself collecting herbs and crossing over. As she had got older, she joined her father in the more serious issues as she learned shamanic ways. Here was a rare opportunity to indulge in her earlier pleasures as she savoured the delights of just walking through the birch trees in the remote little draw.
As they picked their way down the rocky path, Dawn felt ecstatic as they swapped experiences and `chatted’ amiably via Iona’s telepathy. Once down in the birch wood, Dawn invited Iona to sit by her near the stream and they chatted telepathically for long hours. They sat so still and silent that eventually a deer emerged from the thicket and slid silently down to the stream.

“Gosh! Look at that!” Squealed an excited Iona in her silent telepathic world.

“Oooh! Dinner, countered Iona.”

“Oh no! You can’t kill her. Look! She’s got a fawn!”

“Well I must have some meat. Telepathy demands a lot of calories.”

“Just wait,” cried Dawn, “the rabbits will be out soon. You can kill one of those. Anyway, how will you hunt it? You don’t have any weapons.”

“Wait and see,” Iona replied.

They continued watching the enchanted scene of the Doe feeding her fawn until the first rabbit emerged from the thick grass at the stream’s opposite edge.

“There!” Urged Dawn. “There’s a rabbit1”

“I can see. Now watch. I’m going to stun it with a telepathic shock.”

So saying, Ion released a telepathic punch and the rabbit promptly slumped into lifelessness. Dawn moved to go and collect it but Iona restrained her.

“Not yet. One rabbit won’t be enough for dinner.”

“Oh! Of course. But what happens when it wakes up?”

“It won’t. It’s dead.”
“Oh my God! You can kill with this stuff!”

Iona nodded and motioned again to a second rabbit. As Dawn watched, the second rabbit promptly slumped over and then a third followed.

“There we are,” grinned Iona, “now there’s enough for each of us.”

Dawn recognised the implied permission and skipped across the little stream to collect the prizes. Suddenly her blood ran cold as a cougar emerged from the thicket not ten feet away. Her telepathic scream alerted Iona who immediately released a punch and the cougar fell unconscious at Dawns paralysed feet just before it was about to attack. For long seconds, Dawn stood immobilised by shock as Iona crossed the stream to reassure her.

“Don’t worry now. It can’t harm you. It’s unconscious. Let’s collect the rabbits and get back to the cave.”

Finally Dawn found her voice again.

“There haven’t been cougars around here for years. I’ve played here all my life!”

“Well say hello to the good news. They’re back!”

“But, - but what about dad? What if they find him while he’s, - you know, crossed over?”

“He’s going to have to be a lot more circumspect. What did your forbearers do?”

“I dunno.”

“Come on. Let’s get these rabbits cooked. I’m sure you dad’ll be hungry when he comes back.”

“But what about collecting herbs. I mean if these things are around, they’re dangerous.”

“Teach them fear. Make them learn that it’s dangerous to tangle with man.”

“That’s all very well for you to say. You’ve got telepathy! I’d have to carry a gun!”

“So carry a gun.”

Dawn fell silent. She had been brought up to respect the wild things, but throughout her life those wild things had only been deer, small herbivores and even smaller carnivores like lynx and fox. `Now a bloody cougar was in the area.’

“And her cubs,” added Iona, “did you see her nipples?”

“Don’t make it worse,” censured Dawn, “we’ll have to ask my father.”

They reached the cave and Iona re-charged the fire as Dawn expertly prepared the rabbits. Then she took some of the wild roots and quickly prepared a delicious stew.

“I’ll have to go and gather some more roots. We’re running low.

“Tomorrow, there is food enough for this meal and I still have much to tell you.”

They chatted telepathically at length and as she attended to the cooking, Dawn savoured the indescribable delight of sharing emotions via this wonderful new dimension. Eventually the stew was ready and Iona’s stomach rumbled alarmingly. Dawn grinned as she relished the satisfaction of pleasing her newfound telepathic friend by the simple expediency of feeding her. As they moved to share from the pot, `He-that-see’s’ cot creaked. The pair turned as one towards the sound.

“He’s waking up,” Dawn observed un-necessarily as Iona backed around behind the old man to remain unseen.

As Dawn spoke, the old man stirred and turned his head to check the situation. His face broke into a huge smile as he recognised his daughter and smelt the stew.

“Hello father.”

“Hello precious one. So you have chosen to return to us.”

“Not quite, not yet anyway. There is someone you must meet.”

`He-that-sees’, turned stiffly to follow Dawn’s gaze and his smile faded as he failed to recognise the stranger. Dawn recognised her father’s fears and moved quickly to reassure him.

“It’s all right father. This is Iona. She is very special and she wants to talk to you.”

`He-that-sees’ remained silent. It was always best to treat those who were not of his people with great circumspection. Iona sensed the man’s deep suspicions and kept her counsel. She would move deliberately slowly for when `He-that-sees learned of her gifts, Iona knew that Dawn’s father would be desperate to share them. They would face some great adventures together on the other side but for the moment, Iona kept silent and stepped over to the cooking pot to investigate the stew.

“Would you like some of your daughter’s stew?” Asked Iona.

The man nodded cautiously as he said but one word.

“Rabbit?”

Dawn nodded self-consciously as she confessed.

“I hadn’t the heart to kill the deer, she had a baby.”

“You passed up a deer?” Admonished `He-that-sees’.

Dawn nodded guiltily but Iona moved to avert any further conflict.

“The rabbit is good, and there’s plenty of it. Besides, your daughter was threatened by a cougar. It was not safe for her to pursue any more game.”

`He-that-sees’ eyes widened with concern as he gasped.

“A cougar!”

Dawn nodded.

“They’re back!”

He-that-sees sat up stiffly and peered into the pot. It was almost full, with plenty of meat in the stew. He smiled with satisfaction, `at least his daughter knew how to hunt, even if she did hate killing.’ Iona held out a full bowl and He-that-sees took it ungraciously. Dawn now admonished him.

“What do you say father?”

The old man harrumphed disagreeably but conceded a reluctant `thank you’.

Dawn and Iona exchanged telepathic smiles. Her father’s mood would soon change.

The delicious stew eventually broke the ice and `He-that-sees’ finally asked about the cougar. Dawn explained the incident but refrained from mentioning Iona’s part. There was plenty of time for that.

“We must teach it to fear us; all of us,” declared `He-that-sees’.

“That’s what Iona and I concluded father, but how. I don’t want you to kill it. One of our strongest tribal totems is the cougar. It is the particular emblem of our clan.”

“I know perfectly well what our clan totem is my child. However this is strong medicine.

A cougar meets the next tribal shaman; just how auspicious is that?”
Iona smiled inwardly as she countenanced the old shaman’s words. `He had just used sophisticated, educated English to express their ancient and primitive beliefs,’ just how contrary was that’ wondered Iona.

Eventually they had eaten their fill but the old man begrudged the newcomer her larger share.

“You eat like a wolf,” he protested, “it will take much hunting to feed you.”

“No father,” protested Dawn, “Iona is special. You will see.”

The old shaman harrumphed again and rose from his cot to go outside and relieve himself. Dawn and Iona giggled at his crusty nature until they heard a desperate shout outside the cave. As one the pair dashed outside to see the same cougar menacing the old man. The smell of the stew had obviously alerted it. `He-that-sees’ was standing paralysed with fear as the cougar crouched menacingly lashing its tail ready to pounce. Dawn turned frantically to Iona beseeching her to act.

For a moment Iona hesitated, wondering if a cougar would actually attack a full-grown man. Her question was answered immediately as the cat let out a snarl and leapt forward. `He-that-sees’ let out a wail of terror as Iona tele-punched the cat in mid leap. The animal landed on `He-that-sees’ but it was already unconscious and its claws were already re-sheathed. The impact knocked the wind out of `He-that-sees’ but otherwise he was unharmed except for the sleeping cat pinning him down and weighing on his bruised chest. For a moment `He-that-sees’ thought he was going to be torn to pieces until Dawn stepped forward and lifted the cat of her terrified father.

“It’s - all - right – father,” she gasped as she struggled with the inert beast, “she can’t harm you now.”

`He-that-sees’ finally sat up and checked out his aching bruises before turning to study the sleeping cat. He could see the animal clearly breathing and he nervously scooted backwards from the danger.

“What happened to it?” he asked.

“It’s been knocked out father. It won’t harm you now.”

`He-that-sees’ got shakily to his feet and moved to inspect the cat where her daughter was standing right beside it. Dawn picked up one of the beast’s forepaws and examined it.

“She’s injured. That’s why she’s desperate. Look. This is a bullet wound.”

“I can see that!” replied her father irritably, “but what happened just then? Why did it sort of go unconscious in mid leap?”

Dawn nodded towards Iona and replied.

“I told you she was special father. Now do you believe me?”

`He-that-sees’ turned to study the tiny stranger and a new respect came over him even as he finally countenanced the strange almost white hair and odd turquoise eyes his demeanour changed to one of uncertainty and he murmured nervously.

“Who are you? What are you?”

Iona smiled to reassure him then moved closer to Dawn.

“I am Dawn’s friend and would dearly like to learn your ways.”

Confusion replaced uncertainty as `He-that-sees’ tried to make sense of events. Dawn spoke to reassure her father.

“Iona is a very special seer father. She can look inside your mind and know you.”

`He-that-sees’ frowned again and ran his tongue around his thin lips as he contemplated his daughter’s words. Dawn recognised her father’s habitual mannerism that indicated he was becoming thoughtful.

`At least the enmity seemed to be cooling’ thought Dawn thankfully.

`He-that-sees’ looked again at the prostrate mountain lion and wagged his head as he turned to Iona.

“Did you do that?”

Iona nodded and bent down to join Dawn as they studied the wounded beast’s injured paw.

“She was desperate for food. She’s got kits nearby. Look at her nipples. She needs to catch a deer or something.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help the beast,” declared `He-that-sees’, I don’t have any weapons here.”

“Iona does!” Declared Dawn. “You’ve just seen it. That’s what saved you.”
`He-that-sees’ was just beginning to realise that something really special was afoot. He joined the younger pair to inspect the cougar.

“She’s painfully thin. She may have already lost her milk.”

Iona reached down and gently squeezed the cat’s nipple. A tiny drop of milk emerged so at least the cat had not completely dried up. There was hope yet for this harbinger of the tribe’s fortunes.

Dawn poked Iona urgently in the shoulder.

“Go and kill a deer. She needs food so that she can feed her cubs.”
“And where will I find this deer?” Countered Iona. “I can’t just magic them out of the woods.”

`He-that-sees’ spoke softly.

“I know where they gather. The bucks form a bachelor herd at this time. We won’t even have to hurt a doe with her fawn.”

He looked up with a twinkle in his eye that pleased his daughter. A sick buck was acceptable to Dawn as meat. If her dad could show Iona the bachelor herd, then Iona could assuredly kill some weak, elderly animal from the bottom of the pecking order.

“So what about mother here?” Asked Dawn. “Will she be here when we get back?”

“Yes,” replied Iona with a certainty that even impressed `He-that-sees’, “now how far is it to these bucks?”

`He-that-sees’ recognised the urgency in the strange woman’s demeanour so he returned to the cave, gathered his cloak and his staff then pointed towards a gap in the foothills.

The group walked even as the sun was setting but Iona allowed no respite and by midnight in the full moonlight, `He-that-sees’ brought them to a clearing in a box canyon where the bachelor herd was settled for the night. Even before, `He-the-sees’ had indicated the resting forms, Iona had picked out a sick, elderly animal and killed it with one, clean, immensely powerful, telepathic punch. Dawn smiled with satisfaction. The animal would have been killed soon anyway or died of its infirmity. As `He-that-sees’ gasped once in disbelief, the three of them moved forward as the herd dispersed and they collected the dead animal.

“There’s meat enough for us here as well as the cougar,” observed Dawn.

“It’ll be tough and stringy,” counselled `He-that-sees’, it’s an old beast.

“The organs will be OK. The liver and heart and things.”

“Well you’re the cook,” replied `He-that-sees’, “do with it as you will.”

They arrived back at the cave to find the cougar still unconscious and `He-that-sees’ turned curiously to Iona.

“We have to talk. My daughter is right. You are special.”

“Not now. Tomorrow, I’m tired now.”

“As you say. Where will you sleep?”

“I will use the cougar as a pillow and sleep between its paws. That will keep me warm. Tomorrow, Dawn can see if we can do anything for its paw.”

The old Shaman wagged his head incredulously. `Here truly’ was powerful medicine!’ Finally, he turned to offer Dawn a share of the cot and his daughter took it gratefully. The day had worn her out. Peace soon settled on the cave.

The old Shaman did not sleep well. His body had been sleeping while his spirit was on the other side so sleep escaped him. Several times he crept out of the cave to stare disbelievingly at the tiny feminine form nestled quite comfortably amidst the cougar’s mighty claws. Each time he came back to the flickering camp-fire with an even stronger sense that great events were imminent.

As the sun shattered the morning sky, `He-that-sees’ heard an unnatural squeak and he moved quickly to check on the elfin form. To his shock, the cougar had woken and it was licking its wounded paw. Iona was keeling beside it peering closely at the wound and she turned as `He-that-sees’ waited hesitantly.

“Go and cut some meat off the carcass. Make it a big piece. One of the rear quarters.”
`He-that-sees’ swiftly took his knife and hacked away at the carcass. As the smell of blood alerted the cougar it let out a hungry growl and stood expectantly. `He-that-sees’ turned fearfully, only to see Iona, place her hand gently on the cougar’s shoulder and the animal settled without a murmur. Then as `He-that-sees’ finally detached the huge haunch Iona rose with the cat as it limped into the cave. The cat then settled beside the cot where Dawn still slept and Iona motioned to `He-that-sees’ to give the cat the meat.

“Will my daughter be safe?”

“Yes. This cat will become her own living totem. They will bond now as the cat eats beside her. We shall leave them here for I wish to speak with you.”

“About?”

“The other side. How do you cross over?”

`He-that-sees’ nodded knowingly. Now he understood. The strong medicine was not just for his and Dawn’s benefit. There was always a trade-off. He nodded his head again slowly and smiled at the strange little lady.

“It’s not an easy journey. It’s taken me many years to find safety and there are still paths I avoid.”

“So, explain; show me. I will learn quickly.”

“Can you show me that punch thing?”

“I’m sorry. I was born with that gift. It’s not for sale. However I can show you much more of it.”

“So what is it? What is this powerful gift you have?”
“Telepathy,” Iona replied simply and quickly. “I can reach into your minds to talk and listen, to guide and teach. Show me how you cross over, and I will show you everything I can.”

“You sound desperate to cross. Why?”

“There is one whom I miss. One whom I long for. One from my childhood.”

“A parent?”

“No. A boy. The boy! The boy who saved my mind, the boy who pulled me out of the abyss. “

“He must mean a lot to you. Did you love him?”

“No. Not in the carnal way, not as woman to man. I loved him because of how he showed me what I was, how he finally made it clear to me that I was not the mad one, I was not the worthless damaged goods, I was not the evil, twisted malcontent that everybody including myself adjudged me to be.”

“I see. He means a lot to you then.”

“Yes, and I owe him so much, but most of all I wish to atone to him for not being there when he killed himself.”

`He-that-sees’ sensed the anguish and knew not to press further. He changed to a more practical mode.

“Very well then. I can see that it means everything to you. First I will have to show you what herbs I mix to take my spirit over. Come, we will go and pick fresh herbs, they are always better. I can show you what to look for and how to find them.”

Eagerly, Iona followed the old Shaman as he led her to various sources and explained what he was looking for. By noon, they returned with large bags of fresh herbs and `He-that-sees’ was stunned to find his daughter nursing two tiny cougar cubs as the mother licked its paw and lay contentedly at Dawn’s dainty feet.

“Good God! Where did you find those?”

“She bought them. When I woke up I realised she was not dangerous because she was just lying there beside the cot. She hadn’t attacked me so I made myself some food whilst I gave her some more meat. She’s been just like a pussycat so I let her hang around just like a house-cat.

As I was preparing another pot of stew for your return, she left then re-appeared with both cubs in her mouth. Then she just plonked them on the cot. I’ve been playing with them ever since. Aren’t they just so beautiful? Isn’t it simply magic?”

“Amen to that!” Agreed her father as Iona noticed the fresh herbs.

“Are you crossing over again?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it a bit too soon? You only came back yesterday.”

Iona sensed Dawn’s concern and intervened.

“Why? Is it dangerous or something?”

“No,” replied Dawn, “but dad’s old and he gets tired. I’d hate for him to get stuck over there.”

“You mean, like die or something?”

“Exactly.”

Iona turned to `He-that-sees and frowned.
“Is it dangerous? Tell me!”

“If you get stuck there I suppose it is, you’re dead; but everybody dies eventually.”

“Not on my watch, not when I’m over there. How would I get back if you stayed over?”

“That’s all in the training. We won’t be crossing over the first time.”

“So what will we be doing?”

“Just checking out the crossing, checking out the wall.”
Iona gasped.

“A wall! You mean is it like a big black wall!? A sort of endless, black, featureless thing.”

`He-that-sees’ sucked thoughtfully on some herbs before replying.

“I suppose it is. At least, it seems that way for the first few times. With practice it becomes less formidable.”

Iona sagged and nodded her head slowly. That was exactly what she had hoped. The trouble was she only ever seemed able to even approach the wall when following somebody to their death. Those opportunities had been few and far between and except for Michael’s suicide, they had all been deaths she had knowingly caused and didn’t therefore care about. She couldn’t count those killings because there was no knowing where an attempt to cross the wall might have taken her. In any case she had always failed. Now, in `He-that-sees’, Iona had a guide, a mentor, somebody who apparently knew where he was going. Already her hopes were rising. `He-that-sees’ sensed the optimism in Iona’s demeanour and he moved to caution her.

“We are going to have to be careful Iona. I’ve never taken somebody over with me. Dawn has only ever ventured past the first thresh-hold then she went off to college. I’m nervous of taking you over until we’ve got you trained and used to the herbs.”
Iona frowned thoughtfully. She had always had problems with psychosomatic drugs and there was no knowing what these herbs might do. She mentioned her problem to both of them. Dawn gasped as she put down one of the kittens.

“What! Psychosomatic drugs affect you differently!? Why didn’t you say? Father this sounds more dangerous with every minute.”

`He-that-sees’ nodded thoughtfully and Iona saw her only chance slipping away. She pleaded desperately until the old shaman finally relented.

“OK then, but we’ll have to introduce you to the drugs slowly. Then try you on various mixes and doses. This is going to take forever!”

Grateful for the smallest concession, Iona flung herself around Dawn’s neck and hugged her feverishly.

“You’ll keep an eye on me won’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only just qualified. Besides, half of these herbs are unknown to conventional medicine. I’ve got no idea what they contain. It’s going to be a `suck it and see’ thing and like dad says. It’ll take months to get you right.”

“We’ll survive though. I can hunt and as autumn approaches, there’ll be more food available.”

`He-that-sees’ wagged his head and turned to dip into the stew pot.

“It gets bloody cold up here in winter. The snow lies a meter deep.”

“We’ll manage. We’ve got to manage. I’ve got to speak to Michael.”

`He –that-sees’ smiled indulgently. In truth he was fascinated with Iona’s telepathy and the very idea of somehow coupling up his knowledge with Iona’s gifts, excited him hugely.
“OK then. We start tomorrow. The shadows are lengthening. We’ll start by testing each herb individually on you then mixing the herbs in the right proportions but using tiny doses to check your reactions.

Dawn nodded her agreement and the group settled down to eat. After lunch, they made two more cots and fixed a wind break at the front of the shallow cave. By that evening, they were nice and snug. Even the cougar and her cubs seemed to appreciate the cosy set up. As they sat telepathing contentedly around the campfire that evening, Iona described her childhood but did not reveal her true sex.

“So you’ve had this way with animals since you were six or seven,” sighed Dawn contentedly as she snuggled up to the huge furry cat and savoured the animal’s extra warmth.

Iona nodded as she and `He-that-sees’ played with the kittens until they tired of their game and joined Dawn in the curve of their mother’s belly. Eventually a quite peace descended on the group and they all fell asleep except `He-that-sees’ who still had to pinch himself to believe the turn of events. The magic with the cougar, his very own clan symbol had utterly enthralled him and he smiled benignly as he watched his beloved daughter literally curled up in the very belly of death. As for the telepathy, he simply could not believe his luck. A genuine seer had come amongst them. Eventually, even `He-that-sees’ fell asleep.

Mindful 2
Chapter 5
Crossing the Wall.

During the following month `He that sees passed as much knowledge as he could to both Iona and his own daughter Dawn. Once everybody was happy that they had the herbal mix right for Iona’s hyper-reactive metabolism, `He-that-sees’ finally embarked upon the first attempt to help Iona `Cross the Wall’. Whilst this was progressing, Dawn had to make several return visits to the tribe to replenish essential supplies. To do this she borrowed Iona’s 4x4. On her first return she took with her a letter from her father to the council elder who smiled at the turn of events.

The children of the tribe squealed with excitement when they learned that their new medicine woman had a cougar and two cubs for companions when she travelled in the 4x4. Before her departure to Medical school and perceived tribal betrayal, Dawn had been immensely popular with the native village children. Now that she had confirmed that she would probably be returning as her father’s assistant, her standing in the tribal affections had returned and compounded.

Back in the hills Iona and `He-that-sees’ were progressing carefully with their plans. After finally managing to overcome the bitter tastes of the herbs, Iona had joined `He-that-sees’ in the dark enchanted places on the other side of consciousness. As they talked and compared experiences, Iona savoured the wonderful intensity of their shared dreams and expressed her amazement to `He-that-sees’.

“I just don’t understand how we can both be unconscious and yet in communication simultaneously. I mean we are both in each other’s dreams for want of a better expression. I just don’t understand that bit.”

“You ask too many questions Iona,” smiled `He-that-sees’, “a driver does not have to know how the engine of the car works does he?”

“It’s useful though,” countered Iona.
“Indeed it is, but not essential. Perhaps when we have gone further, we might both learn more.”

“Yes,” sighed Iona contentedly as she finished off the last of the venison, “I’ve noticed though that the wall is not so black now; not so obsidian and overawing.”

“Now that is a good thing. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that. D’ you want to have a go at it tomorrow?”

“We could try. I’ve got to face it some time.”

“So what are you afraid of?”

“What I’ll find on the other side. Michael might be angry.”

`He-that-sees’ nodded sagely and turned over in his cot. Iona studied his well-muscled back briefly in the flickering firelight then slipped away into her own private natural dreams. The following morning, she was woken by a rough cat’s tongue licking her face. Dawn had returned with supplies and the cougars. `He-that-sees’ had already lit the fire and a pot of water was boiling ready for the coffee.

“I let you lie in’” explained the old shaman, “I think you’ll need your strength.”

Iona stretched and blinked as Dawn’s eyes met with hers then widened with concern.

“Are you going to try it today?”

“Yes,” her father interrupted, “we can’t keep putting it off any longer.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t take any unnecessary risks!”

“There’ll be no risks,” reassured `He-that-sees’. “But we’ll need more venison before anything. Iona needs beefing up. A hunting trip I think.”
Dawn smiled as Iona added some coffee to the hot water. Hunting trips with Iona were anything but hunting trips. They were using the wild, bachelor herd of bucks like a virtual larder. Even the mother cougar had become lazy. Her paw had healed well but she had now chosen to stay were the food was easy and the surroundings warm. There could be no better arrangement for her to rear her two cubs. Dawn was ecstatic about the fantastic relationship that Iona had created between the wild beasts and the human trio.

For Dawn, the whole hunting exercise had become little more than a blissful stroll through the woods ending with a quiet approach to the bachelor herd, a single, silent telepathic punch, and then walking home with a fresh carcass. She was overjoyed that they didn’t even need to carry weapons.

`No blood, no mess, just a clean sweet kill’, she grinned.

This novel hunting activity, coupled with the new supplies, had set up the group with more than adequate supplies to last until Iona had completed her mission to cross the wall and reach Michael. When they returned with the carcass, `He-that-sees’ was waiting for them and preparing to walk on the other side. He had boiled up their different dosages of herbal tea and was waiting for it to cool. They had a huge meal to reinforce Iona’s fragile constitution then settled on their cots as they drank their herbal teas and waited for the bitter drinks to take effect. Dawn sat beside them and watched patiently for any signs of distress in the tiny elfin figure curled up on the cot. After a couple of brief checks, dawn confirmed that the shaman and the seer were both truly deep into their induced sleeps.

On the other side, Iona found herself beside the reassuring sentience of `He-that-sees’. As they approached the wall they even `talked’ about it. They had taken the strongest dose of herbs that Iona had dared and the other side seemed distinctly clearer this time. As their trances deepened, they eventually came to `the wall’. Iona paused nervously and `He-that-sees’ spoke to her.

“Don’t be afraid. There is no evil here.”

“I suppose it’s like the Christian heaven then, everybody’s happy.”

“If this is paradise then we are entering by the back door,” chuckled the old shaman. “Now the trick is to remember that the wall’s density is a function of the depth of your consciousness, the deeper your condition, the weaker the wall.”

Iona quickly found herself close to the dark obsidian presence and `reached’ out tentatively. The resistance was less ‘solid’ and she found she could somehow pierce whatever it was that had so defeated her many times before. `He-that-sees’ smiled encouragement as he watched the tiny seer finally merge through what had now become only a shadow. `His herbs had worked perfectly and Iona’s dosage had been pretty much ‘spot on’.

Casually he followed her across and Iona found herself in a similar place to what she had just left. She turned to `He-that-sees’ with a voice tinged with disappointment.

“It’s no different, except maybe it’s a bit lighter. That glow ahead is the only difference.”

“So what did you expect? Remember you are already close to death. I believe that light to be the light you Christians call the light at the end of the valley of the shadow.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never gone towards it.”

“So how am I to find Michael or my mother even?” - Well perhaps not her.”
He-that-sees’ glanced sharply at Iona as he realised there was much hurt in Iona’s words. He shrugged his shoulders and suggested that they return to the living.

“But, I haven’t met Michael yet!” Iona protested.

“And it’s not wise to either, at least not this time. If you are looking for someone in particular they might inadvertently act like the lorelai and draw you in before you are ready to withstand or understand the dangers. We are in the shadows now. If we cannot return we remain dead.”

Iona peered covetously at the light and hesitated before moving towards it but `He-that-sees’ recognised her dangerous temptation and he attached his sentience to hers. Iona struggled to go forward, but the stronger, more experienced shaman, was able to force her back across to the other side.

As the wall darkened again to become a dense impenetrable mass, Iona stared back despondently at its threatening brooding presence and reluctantly followed `He-that-sees’ back to the land of the living. As they woke, they were met with a very distressed Dawn.

“Where have you been? You’ve been nearly two days!”

“Wha, - what! Never, protested Iona, it was just a few minutes.”

“Like hell it was. You nearly died! I thought I’d lost you!”

Iona turned uncomprehendingly to `He-that-sees’ who spoke softly.

“I told you it was dangerous Iona. You haven’t eaten for two days. Are you hungry?”

Iona suddenly realised she was famished and that her telepathy wasn’t working. A sickening realisation came to her as she realised just how close to death her tiny body had come. She must have almost starved to death! Greedily she wolfed down the food Dawn had prepared before she had even reheated it. It was another six hours before her body had replenished itself sufficiently for her telepathic gifts to return. Once she was recovered, `He-that-sees’ and Dawn joined with her in a long telepathic chat. After exploring Iona’s personal demons, `He-that-sees’ concluded.
“When you were over there, that light was the light at the end of the valley of the shadow. Your wish to go towards was a death wish, a suicide wish. Is this Michael that important to you?”

Iona nodded despondently as she realised that her death wish had never gone away. It may have lain dormant for years, bottled up inside her, but the childhood guilt of not having somehow saved Michael was still with her. Telepathy only served to make it more painful. Iona could talk with anybody, anywhere, except with the one person she needed to, the one person who might be able to forgive her, the one person who might assuage her guilt, the one person on the `other side’, Michael; dear, dumb Michael.

As `He-that-sees’ learned of this he thought deeply about crossing over again. The tiny seer had powers beyond even his vast learning and the old shaman wasn’t certain he could protect her fully from whatever temptations or urges the elfin woman might confront. And yet, it was obvious that if the seer was to be released from her lifetime’s torment, they would have to cross over again, and worse still, somehow address the light. `He-that-sees’ fell into a deep thoughtful silence. Reluctantly he concluded that one more journey was required, if only to convince the seer that she may never get to see her beloved Michael.

Dawn sensed her father’s turmoil and poured out another round of coffee. Then, keen to get away from the gloomy atmosphere in the cave, she took the cougars for a walk. When she came back, she was mortified to learn that the foolish pair had gone over again. In horror she stared at the comatose bodies and she settled down to another desperately long wait.

It was to be another three days before `He-that-sees’ finally returned to a tearful daughter who had been monitoring their life signs and almost given up on them. When he woke his face had a grey fearful pallor as he realised he had to face his daughter with the dreadful news.

Dawn sensed the ghastly circumstances and her face paled as her father croaked the awful facts.
“She wouldn’t listen. She got free of me and plunged into the light. I’m afraid she’s gone.”

Dawn tested for a pulse in the tiny frame and failed to find one. Then she let out a scream of despair and the cougars started fearfully before slinking off into the birch woods. Both Dawn and `He-that-sees’ watched the big cats depart and interpreted this as an omen. The cats had come with Iona and they would depart with Iona. `He-that-sees’ slumped back onto his cot as guilty tears filled his eyes.
`If only he had been more forceful towards the seer. It had been a stupid idea to think they could talk to the dead, leastwise, talk to a chosen one, that is select their own departed one and plunge into the farthest places without paying some awful cost. Whenever `He-that-sees’ had crossed over previously, he had simply waited on the other side until and unless a dead one had chosen to speak to him. Iona’s much more desperate, forthright attempt had ended in complete disaster. The other side was for the dead, this side was for the living and it had been conceited of him to think he could take the elfin seer cross with impunity. `He-that-sees’ conceit and ambition had caused the death of one much more gifted than he and the crime now weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Furthermore, his own daughter had forsaken him and left in a desperate fury, swearing never to see her father again. `He-that-sees’ had lost his daughter and the tribe had lost their next medicine woman.

Broken in despair, `He-that-sees’, felt he could see no more and he slumped on his cot almost inviting death to release him from his guilt.

He lay like that for another day before the body in the next cot finally stirred.

At first of course, `He-that-sees’ thought it was some figment of his imagination but after the third definite movement was followed by a low groan, `He-that-sees’ had to accept the truth. The tiny, frail, elfin little seer had returned. The old shaman joyfully fought the cruel stiffness in his ancient, frozen joints to re-kindle the fire and prepare some food. As the evening shadows gathered, `He-that-sees’ heart was lifted joyfully when Iona finally accepted some hot. revitalising stew.
Like a caring nurse, the old shaman gently spooned the food past Iona’s cracked lips for he had added some medicinal herbs to help the seer’s recovery. As Iona eventually sat up for the first time, `He-that-sees’ let out a huge sigh of relieved delight.

“You are back with us!”

Iona nodded and smiled through her sunken shadowed eyes. The old shaman scolded her gently for he was so happy and relieved to have her back.

“You were wrong to do that. Dawn still thinks you are dead.”

“Where, - where is she?” Croaked Iona, “Can I have some water?”

The shaman lifted the ladle to her lips as he explained.

“She blamed me for your death. She has left and gone back to the village.”

“Then we had better catch her.”

“She took the car. She has probably left the village. We will never catch her now.”

“Wait. Give me some more of that stew, what’s in it?”

“There are extra herbs, medicine to make you strong again.”

“Yes, I thought there was something like that. My telepathy is back and that normally takes much longer. Those herbs are good. When I am better, will you please teach me about them?”

“They are dangerous, you must eat much food to help your strength match the effects of the herbs. Here finish this bowl. There’s not much left though. The venison has run out.”

“Don’t worry, I have other friends.”
“Who?” Asked the puzzled shaman.

“The cats. As we speak, she is bringing meat now.”

Before Iona’s words were finished, the cougar appeared at the cave entrance with a fine plump fawn, freshly killed. `He-that-sees’ gasped with delight.

“By the gods, you do speak to all things don’t you?”

Iona gave a lopsided grin as the cougar dropped the carcass between the fire and Iona’s cot. The old shaman wasted no time in adding the fresh meat to the stew whilst sharing one haunch with the cat. As the cubs finally followed their mother into the cave the old shaman suddenly had an idea.

“Couldn’t we send the cat to let Dawn know you’re alive?”

Iona’s eyes lit up. It was an excellent idea. She promptly tied a chord around the cat’s neck and attached a brief message. Within moments the cat understood Iona’s telepathed image of Dawn and it set off immediately for the village. Early the next morning an excited child of the village burst into Dawn’s lodge.

“Your cougar is here!”

Dawn stopped packing her clothes and immediately sensed the portent of the cat’s arrival and the message served to confirm it. With a wail of relief and delight she invited the cat into the 4x4, dashed to the store to buy a huge pile of supplies then returned to the hills. By noon, Dawn was back at the cave. As she struggled the last mile with the supplies, the cougar had trotted ahead and preannounced her arrival.

Dawn sagged with fatigue and delight when Iona met her with a hot meal and sweet herbal coffee. She smiled as she recognised one of her father’s memorable herbal `pick-me-ups’.

“Where’s dad?”
“Down in the woods collecting more herbs.”

With that, a delighted shout announced her father’s return harbingered by the bouncing cougar cubs. Within minutes the group were united in happiness as Iona finally revealed what she had encountered on the far side.

“Michael was there! I met him, or at least our souls met.”

“Your spirits; “Corrected `He-that-sees’

“Yes, OK then, our spirits, what’s the difference.”

“Souls are what you believe only exists in men, spirits live in all things.”

“D’ you think so?”

`He-that-sees’ pulled a wry smile and nodded towards the cougar who was licking her cubs.

“You more than anybody should know that Iona. Has not she got a spirit, do you not even speak with her?”

Iona was forced to concede the shaman’s argument and smiled as she stroked the cougar’s coat.

“OK then, I met with Michael’s spirit. As always, he was supremely prosaic; well he always was. He forgives me and tells me to carry on over this side. He told me not to be stupid and stop blaming myself. Finally, he sort-of kissed me. Can spirits kiss?”

Iona turned to `He-that-sees’ for an answer but `He-that-sees’ shrugged hopelessly. He was way out of his depth. Iona shrugged and continued talking.

“Anyway, he was quite down to earth; as always. He was a perfect companion in the hospital once we’d got the autism thing out of the way. He always gave me good advice and he did this time. By the way, I met my mother as well.”

“That figures,” replied `He-that-sees’, “for most people, their mother is the first one they meet when they die.”

Iona knew this to be plausible, the tales of dying soldiers crying for their mothers and then acknowledging them as their last breath left their bodies, were legion.

“Did she give you any advice?” Asked Dawn.

“No. She gave me love.”

“How would she do that; I mean how did that feel?” Wondered `He-that-sees’.

“She just opened up her spirit and showed me the love that any mother shows her son. I just opened up my spirit and accepted it. It was the most natural thing on earth, well in heaven to be more precise.”

For a moment a pregnant silence descended upon Dawn and her father. Then Dawn broke its spell.

“Her son?”

Iona suddenly swallowed nervously.

“Oh shit. I was just reflecting my mother’s delight. She always loved me as her son. I have a twin sister and my mother was wounded when she realised I might also be a daughter, or at least want to be a daughter. In the end, the authorities separated me from my mother and twin sister. I didn’t think when I told you of her feelings.”

“Are you her son?” Asked `He-that-sees’ softly.”

“I was, yes; well in truth I still am, medically that is.” Iona cast her eyes to the ground as she finally confessed her secret.
“I’m a boy; well a man now. I’m sorry, to have deceived you. I live as a woman for my own protection. Women don’t suffer as much aggression as men.”

“A man you say,” Whispered Dawn softly, “so you are berdache!”

“I thought you said that word was derogatory, a white man’s insult.”

“Not really,” replied `He-that-sees’ “It’s just a sort of shorthand, like the term `Yank’ for a white American.”

Iona nodded as she cast a nervous glance towards `He-that-sees’. She was infinitely relieved to learn telepathically that the old shaman had almost no feelings either way about the issue. Iona might as well have said it was raining for all the effect the berdache issue had on Dawn’s father. On the other hand, Iona discovered all the usual feelings in Dawns mind. Dawn had already expressed her wish to have a child and now she had already put two and two together. Dawn was no mental slouch. Her wishes had been exactly the same as Doctor Mary, Jackie and Emma. Even as Iona followed Dawn’s thoughts, the Indian maid voiced them.

“Are you still, you know, potent?”

Iona smiled knowingly and sighed wearily,

“Ye-ess! I’m potent, and fertile. I’m ahead of you!”

Dawn turned to her father and made her feelings clear.

“I want her child!”

“Uuhm, don’t you mean `his’ child my dear?”

“Whatever. Her children could well be seers!”
Iona decided that it would do no harm to put the native peoples on a par with the mainstream Americans and let their tribes enjoy the fruits of telepathy. She confirmed dawn’s hopes.

“My children are telepathic. I have four other children, and all are telepathic.”

Dawn let out a shriek of delight as `He-that-sees’ caught the drift.

“You mean, if I, - if we, - have children, they will be seers?”

“Yes.” Iona confirmed matter-of-factly.

Dawn turned to face her father with all the power that this revelation lent to her elbow.

“Now, can I have children?” She demanded.

“But what about your purity, your purity as a maid?”

“Bugger the vestal virgin thing. It’s all bloody superstition anyway. Iona’s telepathy is a fact. Look around you! If I have her child, he will be telepathic!”

“Or she,” added Iona for effect and to demonstrate her feministic outlook.

“OK then, she’,” conceded Dawn dismissively, “never mind the politics, are you able to make me pregnant?”

“I’ve got other women pregnant. But I thought you were a, - a, - what was it, - a Wink’te or something.”

“I am a Winkt’e, but I’m still capable of having babies aren’t I just look at me. Besides, I have no problem with you; you’re more girl than boy. Have you got a proper cock?”

‘He-that-sees gasped with embarrassment.

“Daughter! That is not how a maid speaks to a man!”

“Oh to heck with the formalities father! This is too important!”

She turned to Iona and continued.

“You know, one that erects and stuff; does all the right functions?”

“That’s personal, but yes!” Snapped Iona defensively.

`He-that-sees’ gaped stupidly at his daughter’s forthrightness then he just shook his head and chuckled. `By the spirits! Young people today!’

Dawn turned to her father and smiled beguilingly.

“Don’t you want a grandchild, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if he, - or she was telepathic?”

“Oh my god girl! You put it so delicately; but yes, you’re quite right, a shaman who was telepathic would be truly powerful medicine. Just look at how this, - this seer, this Iona has actually returned from the dead. In only her second crossing over, she travelled further than I would ever have dared. Yes, my beloved daughter, if you gave me a telepathic grandchild, my cup would runneth over.”

Dawn turned to Iona who was still devouring her meal and she smiled. Having cleared the children hurdle she was now curious as a doctor.

“Iona,” she asked softly, as though recognising the risks to the question; “how does it all work, the telepathy thing; how does it work?”

Iona motioned that she wanted to finish her food then she would explain. Dawn settled impatiently beside the cougar and her sleepy cubs to await events. As she watched Iona put away a fourth bowl of stew, she wagged her head disbelievingly.

`Was the tiny seer still recovering from the crossing over?’ She asked herself.
As she waited, Dawn watched the cougar licking her cubs and this only served to reinforce the ticking of Dawn’s biological clock. She wanted a baby and Iona’s telepathic child would be a huge plus.

Eventually, Iona put down the bowl and looked up at Dawn.

“So, you want to know about telepathy”

`He-that-sees’ also moved in closer as Dawn answered.

“Yes. Is there a pathology? Can ordinary people know if somebody is telepathic?”

Iona lowered her voice to emphasise the forthcoming need for caution and circumspection.

“The answer is yes. Inside my head and those of my children there is a sort of fish-like organ. A boy’s looks like a flounder that sits just under the cerebellum on top of the corpus callosum. A girl’s telepathy organ sits in the same place, but it resembles something more like a seahorse with the tail curling right down to the cortex. Their telepathies differ as well.”

“How?” Gasped Dawn.

“Boys have a greater range and they can create nets, but girls have more intimate connections and they can blank off their thoughts from other telepaths. Boys have no secrets; girls can keep their thoughts strictly private if they wish.

“Why would that be?” Wondered a fascinated Dawn.

“I don’t know. I’ve discussed all this with my four children, and we can’t work it out. My three daughters are jealous of their brother and my son is jealous of his sisters. It seems there are benefits to both, but I haven’t worked it out. I have a simple theory but I have no hard evidence to support it.

It goes back to the hunter-gatherer thing. When hunting prey men need to connect over long distances to pass information to everybody in the hunt. Women used to gather vegetable foods from static, secret places so passing or hiding secret information of known, static fruit or berry locations only to members of the tribe required the ability to hide their thoughts.

Anyway, those are just my thoughts. My son thinks that God, or `Mother Nature’, -call it what you like-, has got something mapped out for us telepaths but none of us know what it is. We certainly can’t look into the future and it’s not for the want of trying.

Iona then went on to describe all the turmoil and past events in her life and Dawn shuddered as she began to recognise the awful dangers. Despite all the horror, Dawn still found herself wanting a telepathic child, as did her father. Iona sighed and smiled.

“You are just like Doctor Mary was. She also wanted to be the `telepathic Eve’.

“I’m not surprised,” smiled Dawn beatifically, “what mother wouldn’t want such a gift for her child?”

`He-that-sees’ also nodded vigorously. Even with his tribal perspectives, he could readily recognise that any people who had telepathy would be better set to prosper. Iona sensed his mild xenophobia and she reached out telepathically to disarm him.

“Telepathy belongs to all mankind. If I give it to your grandchildren, I must share it with others. None must prosper by telepathic domination. I know only too well, for I suffered from other’s domination by those who considered me of a lower order.”

`He-that-sees, then got a mild telepathic blast of philanthropy to emphasise Iona’s views before she went on to explain her humanitarianism arising from the oppression and abuse she had endured after having been diagnosed as a ‘lesser being’, - an insane sub-human. As a diagnosed, paranoid, transvestite schizophrenic, Iona had suffered from all the usual prejudices and thus been placed right at the bottom of the intellectual pecking order. This had inevitable precipitated her into the many catastrophic circumstances that had so destroyed her childhood.
`He-that-sees’ felt a wave of guilt envelope him as he realised that Iona’s telepathy had, by dint of her brutalised early years, even yet become a vehicle for compassion and understanding. It had been an amazing and inexplicable metamorphosis, for by rights, the tiny figure should have become a monster; mankind’s nemesis no less!

Dawn also received these telepathic revelations and she struggled to keep the tears from falling. The emotional telepathic attachments were far more powerful than the crude verbal accounts. Dawn had learned the same powerful lesson as Sandra, Mary, Emma and Jackie. Emotion and feelings travelled far more effectively via telepathy.

As the evening sun settled, the autumnal chill seeped into the cave. Dawn had rushed out of the village ill-prepared for a cold night in a shallow cave so she curled up on her cot and invited the cats to join her. She was ecstatic with joy when the tawny animals disposed themselves at her back and feet. Iona smile indulgently as she and `He-that-sees’ studied the pretty maid.

“Not many girls get to own a real, live fur coat, do they?” Giggled Iona.

`He –that-sees’ grinned affirmation as he built up the fire and Iona served herself yet another portion of stew from the simmering pot. `He-that-sees’ had quickly divined that Iona’s metabolism was affected by her telepathy for nobody could ordinarily eat so much and remain as such an elfin, sinewy figure. He nodded knowingly towards his beautiful daughter and asked Iona her intentions.

“Will you marry her by our customs and make her child a full member of the tribe.”

“Would that mean I would have to live with her for the rest of my life,” countered Iona, “for if they come searching for me again, I will have to run.”

“I think the elders of the tribe could make some new accommodations for my grandchild. Once he or she is born, and inducted into our tribe, then you would be free to leave if you have to. After all it’s not every day, telepathy comes to our people.”

Iona breathed a small sigh of relief. A permanent marriage would be something she would find difficult. Her whole life had been one of transience, comings and goings, rejections and censure ‘lost and found’ for she found it hard to trust or relate to anybody, even when she could easily read their innermost feelings. The faults lay not with the others, but with her. Once she had established that Dawn’s child was telepathic, and the tribal niceties had been resolved, she would be on her way again. Iona now had a mission.

Now that her issues with Michael had been resolved, she was at peace with herself and at long last free to go forward. As Dawn slept blissfully amongst the mountain cats, Iona and `He-that-sees’ chatted telepathically long into the night until the weak sun flickered in the eastern sky. As the dawn’s red fingers searched for a grip to climb between the clouds, they both smiled ruefully to each other.

“Huh! Here comes the sun again. We are like a pair of sleepless old grandmothers.” Grinned the old Shaman. “This telepathy thing makes old women of our feelings and our gabbling.”

Iona nodded with a soft smile as she reached into the old man’s contented heart. She had rarely sensed a more contented and blissfully happy old man. She chose her moment with perfect timing.

“Would this then be a suitable time to ask for your daughter’s hand in union?”

`He-that-sees’ eyes lit up with a twinkle as he reached out and pulled Iona into his powerful hug.

“Of course it is. A new dawn brings me a new Dawn. That is an auspicious sky is it not, for it has brought my daughter back to me? If my Daughter wishes it, you can marry her immediately after I have advised the elders.”

“Then I must warn you that the old chief knows of my telepathy. I had to enlighten him on the day of my arrival. The council was very suspicious of me despite the fact that your daughter had come back to them completely of her own volition.”
“Then that is to our advantage my son. For if he knows of your gift he will understand just as I do. He is a good and wise counsellor.”

“With this reassurance, Iona curled up in her cot and settled for a couple of hours sleep before returning to the village. Almost immediately the mother cougar extricated herself gently from Dawn’s cosy embrace and curled up around the tiny telepath’s elfin frame. `He-that-sees’ quickly realised that the cat responded to telepathy and that telepathy lay in the tiny seer’s brain.

`Still’ he reflected’ `at least his daughter had the companionship of the cubs and the prospect of someday blessing her people with the greatest gift a woman could give the tribe,’ he surmised contentedly. It was noon before Iona awoke and `He-that-sees immediately served him some more fresh stew. After eating their fill, everybody left the cave and clambered down the trail to the 4x4. By mid-afternoon, they had entered the village. `He-that-sees’ went immediately to the council lodge and called a meeting while Iona and Dawn entertained the children who shrieked with delight at the cougar cub’s antics.

In only half an hour, `He-that-sees’ returned beaming.

“The council chief agrees to your union. It was good that you revealed your gift to him. He told the council that the union would be good thing for our people and I reinforced his words. Nobody else had anything else to offer. Now my daughter, you must go into the lodge and tell the council that it is your free will to marry this strange individual.”

Dawn wasted no time in declaring her will and explaining why she wanted to marry a white berdache. In the council chamber she sat with the three cougars at her feet to demonstrate the powers of her intended partner. Such medicine had a huge impact on the council and she returned smiling.

“We marry tomorrow. The cougar thing did it.”

Iona flung her arms around Dawn and they returned to her family lodge where `He-that-sees’ was already holding court with the women’s council. Dawn’s mother had been a Sioux while `He-that-sees’ tribe was Shoshone. There would have to be an invitation to Dawn’s mother’s family. Already, the women were gossiping on their cell-phones.

Eventually the tribe mother explained.

“We must wait until the full moon. It’s your mother’s clan’s custom in the Sioux tribe.”

“But that’s a week away,” protested Dawn.

“By the spirits girl! Can you not wait a week. You’ve been a maid for eight years, why all the sudden urgency?”

Dawn fell silent. There was no option but to wait a week. Besides, it would be nice to have her aunts and cousins attend. She had missed her mother desperately since her death. There would be old family stories to retell and new cousins she had never met. Secretly she was relieved to delay the wedding for a week, for it would also give the tribe time to prepare. She could also acquire a suitable wedding outfit, as befitted a virgin, tribal girl who had achieved success as a doctor. Now she had returned to them, her kinsfolk were delighted and happy for her.

The following day, she and the Shoshone tribal mother flew up to the Sioux nation to make the proper arrangements. After all, Dawn was definitely a true maid and this gave added kudos to the whole affair. In the damaged, fragmented culture of the Native peoples, a virgin was to be celebrated, especially when that virgin was as beautiful as the old shaman’s daughter.

Dawn’s mother’s family could proudly present her as a genuinely pure bride and therefore dress her accordingly in their proper tribal style. For the whole stay, Dawn and the old Shoshone tribal mother were treated royally as festivities went apace.

When the date for the wedding came around, the returning Sioux wedding party had grown to fill a Boeing jet as over three hundred family members claimed a sufficiently close blood tie with the maid to attend her wedding in her Shoshone village.

Fortunately, for `He-that-sees’, Iona had already offered to help with the costs of the wedding feast. Money was still no object to Iona.

The berdache issue was quickly explained to the Sioux shaman for they too had no problems with Winkt’e matches. At least the bride and groom could bring forth children and that was what really mattered irrespective of their lifestyles. The wedding feast lasted two days and it was an exhausted couple who retreated with the cougars to the cave where they had shared and experienced so much.

As expected and hoped, Dawn became pregnant quickly for her father’s herbs had ensured that. A few months later the pregnancy was confirmed as twins and to everybody’s delight, a grandson and granddaughter were eventually presented to `He-that-sees’ during a full council ceremony. As a mother of twins, Dawn had now become a fully paid up member of the council. Iona was also invited to join the council, which she did but rarely voted.

Once the twin’s telepathy was confirmed, Iona was already getting itchy feet. When they were about 3 years of age, Iona first detected the first tiny flickering’s of telepathy in the children. She warned the only three people in the tribe who were a party to the secret and then more or less let things carry on as they were. For Iona, with her now extensive experience of her gift, the formative years until the children were able to understand the particular uniqueness of their gifts, were amongst the sweetest years of Iona’s life.

Firstly, as the twins initially expressed fear at the strange invasions of their tender minds, Iona acted as their telepathic guardian and mentor. She slowly expanded the twin’s awareness and she was delighted whenever they achieved another new milestone. At first, she could only describe these events to Dawn and `He-that-sees’ but the twins’ development steadily expanded until that wonderful day in their fourth year when their daughter Kitten suddenly and unexpectedly released her first telepathic signal.
It was akin to an ordinary child’s first word and Dawn was ecstatic when she received it whilst she was preparing some food for Iona’s return. When the word `mummy’ invaded Dawn’s consciousness she almost dropped the knife in her delight and she immediately skipped into the living room where both her daughter `Kitten’ and her son ‘Leaping Cat’ were watching television.

“Who just said mummy?” She asked sweetly as she desperately tried to hide her excitement and not show any favouritism. Kitten’s hand went up shyly and it was all her mother could do to not pick her up and dance around the room.

“Why that’s wonderful darling. Have you got any more words?”

Kitten shook her head and innocently returned to watch the screen while her mother frantically ran to pick up the phone. Instead, as her hand stretched out to pick up the phone, she suddenly got a telepathic message from Iona.

“Did you just get a telepathic message from the children?”

“Yes!” Squealed Dawn, unable to contain her delight.

“I thought you might. I just picked up a ripple in my head. Which one was it?

“Kitten. She’s just fessed up to it.”

“Yeah that figures, I suppose girls tend to be a little bit advanced on boys.”

Dawn smiled. Iona was probably right but one couldn’t be sure. What rules applied to normal children might not apply to telepaths. Having established that Kitten was moving upwards, Iona decided to make the next step. She would try speaking to Kitten while she wasn’t in the room. She warned Dawn to tell Kitten that her Daddy-mum was going to talk to her. Gently Dawn took Kitten on her knee and explained to her.

“Darling, you know that you just said something to me without speaking.”

“Telepy.” Giggled Kitten.

“Yes darling, `telepy’. Well Mummy-dad is going to reply to you, would you like that.

“Where is she?”

“She’s been shopping with granddad.

“You mean outside?”

“Yes. She’s coming back from the town by the buttress road.”

Kitten fell silent as she digested this new information. She had never realised that `telepy’ could work outside the house because Iona had avoided any such situations that might cause problems. Now that Kitten had `spoken’ things had taken a new twist. She bounced upon Dawn’s knee and asked, `where’s mummy-dad?’

“I’m here darling,” replied Iona as she savoured the delight and surprise in Kitten’s mind.

“Mummy-dad! Mummy-dad! Where are you?”

“Coming home darling and I’ve got a nice surprise for you and Leaping Cat.”

Kitten squealed with delight and unwittingly `called’ her brother via her new `telepy’

Leaping Cat let out a squeak of surprise and came running to his mother.

“Mummy! Kitten’s copying Mummy-dad.”

“Yes darling,” replied his mother, trying to seem unconcerned, as though it was the most normal thing on earth.

“How did she do it?” He demanded.

“She’s growing up darling; you’ll soon be able to do it too.”

Leaping cat pouted with disappointment then retreated back to the television. His sister always seemed to be one jump ahead.

Eventually of course the rumours about strange events and telepathy somewhere among the Native Americans filtered back to interested parties in the same old military centres. Having utterly failed to learn their lesson once, the same agencies came looking a second time. Fortunately, Iona got wind of it through the Indian grapevine long before the agencies had moved to act upon any certain information and Dawn’s children were sequestrated away long before the threat emerged.

Iona was now scanning regularly at ranges exceeding a thousand miles so when the agencies finally came looking she was well prepared. She warned `He-that-sees’ and the village council about the forthcoming visit then carefully hid herself when the agents arrived. They finally recognised the 4x4’s plates and immediately decided to organise a thorough search of the village.

Iona decided to lead them away from the village like some decoy duck and dispose of them on some narrow treacherous road, high in the hills. `He-that-sees’ was fascinated to learn that Iona’s telepathic punch could kill many men at one instance and he begged to be a witness.

As the agents busied themselves around the village, Iona `borrowed’ another powerful 4x4 and set off into the hills with `He-that-sees’ as her companion. The agents quickly recognised the refugee for Iona’s hair was no secret.

“It’s her. It’s the bitch herself! The one who murdered all those marines!”

There was a wild scramble as the agents piled into their vehicles and set off in hot pursuit. Lessons had been long forgotten and this was a totally new gang of agents who had not done their homework properly. After a wild ride taking them high into the mountains, Iona finally chose a `dead-end’ trail just to con her pursuers into thinking they had her finally cornered.
Iona knew the hills well and mountain pursuits had become meat and drink to her. She put `He-that-sees’ off at a high vantage point then drove a mile or so up the trail before finally parking on a sharp blind bend. Quickly she decamped from her borrowed 4x4 and took a position on another high rock above the trail. The coup-de-grace was sickeningly easy but to Iona’s inured psyche there was no cause for lament or cheer. As the pursuers hurtled around the buttress they were suddenly confronted with the vehicle parked right in the middle of the road. As the brakes slammed on, Iona simply
killed the driver and as his motor functions ceased, his foot came off the brake and the first vehicle hurtled over the cliff. She played an identical trick with the second vehicle’s driver and it promptly followed its companion. Eight agents had met a violent and terrible death. A brief scan confirmed their deaths and Iona simply turned her 4x4 around to collect `He-that-sees on the way back to the village. On the return journey, `He-that-sees’ expressed his fears.

“Are you not concerned that you have killed eight men.”

“No. They would kill me if they had to. They have tried, several times.”

“But they have families, wives, and children.”

“So have I, your own daughter and grandchildren. Whose side are you on?”

`He-that-sees’ fell silent for this was a side to Iona he had never seen. He was glad that his daughter and grandchildren were well hidden up in the Sioux nations. Iona sighed and spoke to him as they picked their way back to the village.

“I’m afraid this is it. My marriage to Dawn is over. I did not want it but they forced it, just like I told you they would. They never give up.”

`He-that-sees’ understood this and he wagged his head with disappointment. They made a brief stop in the village then used `He-that-sees’ new pick-up to make a dash for the Sioux nations. After a last goodbye to her family, Iona set off south to the Mexican border. Even as Iona’s departing pick-up bounced along the Sioux village trail, Dawn’s eyes filled with tears.
She had so wanted to tell her husband that more new life was quickening in her womb. Sadly she had learned to her own bitter cost of the dangers confronting her one-time husband. If her own children were to be free of the persecutions and pursuits that beset her one-time husband, it was best that Iona did not know of the second pregnancy that Dawn was nurturing in her fruitful loins.

Mindful Book 2
Chapter 6
More Wanderings.

With bitterness in her heart, Iona was forced to divorce her wife Dawn whom she had come so much to love. Both Dawn and her father now realised just how tenacious and determined her pursuers were and they were more than aware of just what danger Dawn’s children would be in if the military authorities ever got wind of Dawn’s telepathic children. With tears filling her eyes, Iona made her farewells and headed south through Mexico to Nicaragua to resume a new hunt for her other children. However Iona’s tears were nothing like as intense as Dawns for a couple of days after Iona’s departure, Dawn realised her unborn children would probably never see their father Iona.
Once in Managua, Iona activated yet another of her numerous personas and accessed yet another of her many alternative bank accounts. With these new identities, she returned to the United States to resume her quest. For several months, she criss-crossed the remainder of the American continent by road, rail and air whilst carefully scanning for any evidence of telepathy. She was not surprised at her lack of results and eventually she concluded her children were in neither Canada, Mexico nor the United States. Reluctantly she concluded it would require a systematic scan of the whole planet to find them. The children had learned their lessons well after the terrible battle at the military base and they had taken decisive steps to avoid being caught.
Iona was convinced her only recourse lay in telepathy. To indulge in any electronic search would immediately reveal her efforts to any watchers and her telepathic scans confirmed there were still watchers. Fortunately, that same telepathy would continue to keep Iona several steps ahead of any future hunters.
Once finally clear of the Mexican Southern border with Central America Iona felt a weight lift off her shoulders. In South America, she activated yet another long dormant bank deposit to destroy the paper trail and simultaneously assumed another identity. Next, she purchased flying lessons before buying a twin-engined private plane. A flying licence was much easier to obtain in the casual skies of Latin America.

She adopted the usual gridiron search technique and concluded after nearly a year of constant flying that her children were not in the western hemisphere. Next, she flew across the Atlantic at its narrowest part and arrived in West Africa to start searching that vast continent. Eventually her persistence proved successful.

Her tedious gridiron search had covered the southern half of the African continent then next the endless Saharan wastes until she eventually detected feint telepathic whisperings around Luxor on The Nile.

Warm tendrils curled into her weary brain as the dark scar of the Nile Valley emerged once more from the grey Saharan wastes for the umpteenth time of her crossing its northernmost reaches.

She reflected ruefully how events reflected ‘Murphy’s Law’.
‘It had to be the extreme North-Eastern corner of Africa, the very last quarter of the map after all her countless flights over the Dark Continent’.

‘Still’, she concluded, ‘at least she hadn’t had to do Asia, Europe and Australasia’.

Weary from the constant journeying and the countless border negotiations, (Unlike her earlier youthful wanderings, this time she was in a private aircraft with all the attendant bureaucracy.) she landed at Luxor and booked into a luxury hotel, grateful for that ancient city’s extensive tourist trade.

Once settled, she did not need to rush or hide for she had temporarily shed her pursuers.

At occasional intervals, she left her telepathy in ‘receiver mode’ with occasional telepathic bursts like a lighthouse flashing. Then she simply waited for Ben’s ‘radar’ to detect her mind-waves. It was not a long wait. As she lay dozing on the crisp linen bed sheets, a cautious probe filtered into her brain as Ben nervously tested his discovery.

“Is that really you dad?”

“Yes. Long time, no see.”

The ether fell silent again. Iona concluded that Ben was being ‘super-cautious’ and obviously ‘discussing’ his stunning discovery with his sisters. Iona debated whether to probe or even transmit a signal but decided to wait again. She had no idea what advances might have been achieved by ‘normals’ so she decided to leave it to Ben to make any positive steps.

As expected, there was no more activity that day. Iona had no idea if her children had now discovered a way of blanketing their activity or if they had simply ‘closed down’ until they were certain of the situation. She realised that Ben and the girls might be every bit as cautious as she was. Perhaps they suspected a trap as well.

‘After all,’ concluded Iona, ‘until yesterday, they had believed their father was dead.’

Assuming that Ben knew at least as much as herself about any new risks to their telepathy, Iona let the matter lie and gratefully turned over to savour the air-conditioned comfort of her room.

The next morning she readily recognised her four children taking breakfast in the same hotel but she refrained from acknowledging them.

Strangely, the four appeared not to recognise her, but Iona had half expected that. They had been separated for over four years and three of those years involved intensive flying and searching through jungle, savannah and desert.

Such a strain took its toll on a girl’s complexion. Iona knew she looked nothing like the girl who had once destroyed an army. She mused that the wrinkles and premature creases in her weather-beaten features created a classic image of middle age despite her only being in her thirties.
Such wrinkles and creases provided an excellent but unwelcome disguise. Besides, she had dyed her hair and was wearing her coloured contact lenses..

The four children looked exactly what they were, a group of western youngsters taking in the Egyptian thing. It was obvious to Iona that the four were well practised in secrecy and the three girls used their blocking capacity to shut Iona out. Recognising their caution, Iona carried on eating as though the four did not exist. She did however; leave her telepathy on ‘receive’ in anticipation of their eventual contact. She also made it abundantly clear that her thoughts were easily discernible. Eventually the ‘youth’ in the group discreetly caught Iona’s eye and acknowledged Iona’s thoughts. Iona finally replied.

“My, but you’re cagey son!”

“With good reason dad,” replied Ben. “We thought you were dead! What time are you going to the valley of the kings?”

“Two o’clock, when the sun’s at its hottest.”

“Why then. It’ll be bloody hot!”

“Yes, but virtually deserted except for a few sleeping guards; and it’ll be deathly quiet. I remember from last time when I was a youngster. In the early morning and evenings, the place is heaving with hordes of tourists. In the heat of the day it’s deathly still, much more like a royal graveyard. You’ll see it as it really was meant to be.”

“Thanks for the tip dad,” replied Ben, “see you there. Have you detected anybody else?”

“No.” Iona replied. “It’s still just we five, and four little native American twins; unless you’ve been uhmm.”

“Oh! Nothing like that dad Time enough for all that. So what about these ‘Indian twins’ then?”

“I’ll explain when we meet in the valley. See you later. Two o’clock, that’s when it's at its hottest and quietest. No interruptions.”

The four children recognised their father’s caution and returned to their breakfast as Iona made her way into town. There she re-acquainted herself with some old friends from her previous visit to Egypt and spent the morning kicking over the traces. Noon found her crossing the Nile and making her way to the Valley of the Kings where she finally embraced her children.

“So why here?” They chorused telepathically.

“It’s quiet, there’s no disturbances and even the tomb guards are sleeping. I want to try out some stuff by crossing over to the other side.”

“Crossing over the other side; what’s that?” Wondered Ben.
“I have an Indian Shaman for a friend. His name is ‘He-that-sees’. He uses herbs to cross over to the other side and speak to the dead. The strange thing is that when he does so, it bends space and time somehow. If he’s on the other side when I try to contact him, I can reach him from anywhere on earth.”

“Speaking to the dead! That sounds a bit dangerous,” cautioned Rebecca.

“I used to think so,” countered Iona, “but I’ve learned a lot of stuff since I last saw you. I’d like to try to cross over and walk on the other side here, in the valley of the dead.”

The four children exchanged nervous looks then turned as one. Iona knew they had been practising telepathy now for years and probably functioned almost as one entity when it suited them. She explained what she had learnt from the old Indian shaman and the four children relaxed slightly.

“You should mix it more with the natives when you travel,” suggested Iona, “you’d learn a lot more. Telepathy has made you introspective. I would have hoped you would be spreading your wings.”

“We are. Why d’ you think we’re visiting Egypt. We’ve done virtually all of Europe,” countered Rachel, “and I’m only just turned a teenager.”

“And your education?” queried Iona. “What about schooling?”

“What about it? Objected Natasha. “What can they teach us?”

“Maths and science,” suggested Iona.

“Just book learning. We don’t need schools for that,” observed Rebecca, “we can read minds.”

” All right, I’m not going to argue with the four of you. God forbid! Who am I to judge?

So anyway, to change the subject, what have you been doing with yourselves?”

The four children started chattering eagerly as they returned to the River Nile. The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting on the banks of the Nile enjoying cool lemon sherbets while they described their adventures since leaving America with their mothers. Eventually the telepathic conversation finally waned and they explained how they worked their telepathy as a group.

“As Ben said; we’ve enjoyed touring Europe and visiting all the interesting places; the Grand Tour,” finished Rebecca who, as the oldest girl, often spoke for the four of them.

Ben seeming to take a back seat unless the issues directly affected him.

Iona accepted their explanations then described her intentions. Her ideas roused the children’s interest and they cautiously agreed to provide any ‘logistical telepathic support’ if she needed it whilst crossing to the ‘dark side’.

For the interim however, they indulged in the tourist trip and savoured what Luxor had to offer. That evening, Iona visited several apothecaries and purchased many different African equivalents of ‘He that sees’ American herbs.

She knew her purchases would arouse the interest of any individual who might have some residual knowledge of the ancient Egyptian ways so she made no secret of her actions and left a clear trail back to her room. It was barely minutes before a knock on her door confirmed her expectations. A scan ensured the caller was ‘bona-fides’ and she invited a nervous woman in.

The woman was dressed in a threadbare bourka and niqab that completely hid her body and face. There was also a faintly unpleasant odour beneath the liberal doses of cheap scent. Iona recognised a frightened Egyptian peasant woman.

Drawing on her earlier teenaged learning of Arabic, they conversed for several minutes before Iona finally put the woman at her ease. Eventually she disrobed her outer covering down to her jebella and revealed herself younger than Iona had unwittingly assumed. The tattoos around her eyes had made her appear wrinkled and the niqab had served to hide the rest her beautiful face. She smiled readily as Iona prepared some mint tea.

“So why did you follow me?” asked Iona.

“Your herbs you bought. I was the beggar by the door. I watched you in the apothecary, those herbs point to the dark side.”

“Do you fear that side?” asked Iona easily.

The girl frowned slightly as she tried to size Iona up

“Are you not afraid of it?”

“Of what?” countered Iona enigmatically.

“The dark side, the forces of evil.”

“Why d’ you think of them as evil? Have you walked with them? Have you dealt with them?”

“Only slightly. The Imam warns against them, Islam warns of their power and their danger.”

“Only if used for Evil. If used for knowledge or good, they serve well.”

“Are you a witch?” asked the girl.

“No. I simply search for knowledge and fulfilment.”

“On the dark side,” argued the girl.

“There is light there as well. I have seen light when I cross.”

“So, you do travel there.”

“Yes. I won’t deny it. Have you crossed over?”

Iona pretended not to know but telepathy already gave her the answers.

“Only once,” replied the girl truthfully, “I tried it when I was alone. I only made it to the gates, I was afraid, and the herbs made me sick.”

“Hmm, a bad way to do things. Didn’t you have a guide?”

“Not here, not in Egypt, not in the Realm of Islam. I would be charged with witchcraft.”

“What, in Egypt? I’ve always found Egyptians to be urbane and educated.”

“That’s in the cities. It’s not like that in my small village. They already condemn me for refusing to enter an arranged marriage and for running away from home to live here in the big city.”

Iona recognised the age-old equation of the abnormal individual seeking anonymity and safety in the big city. She was simply a bright young peasant girl trying to improve her lot and refusing to accept what others had planned for her. Iona returned to the girl’s attempts to cross over to the dark side.

“So you tried crossing alone. I’m surprised you got back at all.”

“I had to stop at the big black wall. It would not let me pass. Will you teach me?” pleaded the girl.

“You were lucky you could not cross. The other side is very dangerous. Why did you do it? What drives you? What d’ you seek?”

“I have no living, no wage. I have to beg.”

“And if I do teach you, how will you earn your living?”

“As a seer, a fortune teller.”

“But you might abuse those skills. Use them for blackmail.”

Iona had already studied the girl’s intentions and found little malice or intent. If Iona’s telepathy had detected the faintest whisper of evil, the girl would never have crossed the threshold of Iona’s hotel room. The girl became agitated.

“No! There is no evil in my heart. I only wish to learn the gifts. To help others as I needed help.”

“What help was that?”

The girl fell silent, reluctant to divulge her anxiety. Iona already knew but it remained for the girl to reveal it, to cleanse it from her soul. The silence grew oppressive but Iona sat patiently. Iona always recognised an abused individual, (a fellow traveller) when she met one. Eventually the girl whispered.
“I need money.”

“Of course. They all do.”

“No! I’m not begging. I will not beg from you. I need to earn money. I have strange dreams and visions. They frighten me. If I can learn what they mean- “The girl trailed off uncertainly.

“You might be able to explain dreams for others,” finished Iona, “and then charge for your interpretations.”

The girl nodded as her gaze fell disconsolately to the floor.

“But– there’s a problem with your faith, Islam.”

Again, the girl nodded in silence. Iona read the girl’s tension and fear. Slowly she looked up again and met Iona’s gaze.

“In my village, they are superstitious. Because I refused to become an arranged bride, because I refused to become the baby-making machine of some ignorant farmer, I was accused of being evil. They accused me of witchcraft because of my strange dreams. I had to run away.

Luxor is not a big city and my brothers are searching for me. If they find me, they will drag me back or more probably kill me to avenge the family honour.
My family had already contracted to have me married. I want to go to Cairo. It’s easier to hide and there are doctors there.”

“Doctors?” queried Iona.

“Yes. I am inf- infib,”

The girl stumbled with her words, almost dumb with fear and shame.
Iona recognised what the girl was trying to tell her. Again, telepathy put her ahead as she realised the girl had been severely mutilated at birth or soon after. Softly Iona whispered the word to try to encourage a full revelation.

“Infibulated.”

The girl nodded as tears started to run and she tried to continue.

“And- and cir- circumcised.”

Iona felt a familiar wave of revulsion tighten into a knot in her belly.

‘The girl had been cruelly disfigured. If she had been forced to marry, she would have suffered horrendous agony on her wedding night.

Before her wedding, ignorant old women would have cut the scar that had partially sealed her vagina since infancy.

Now Iona recognised the unpleasant odour. With a partially blocked vagina to ensure virginity, there was no rapid escape for her menstrual discharges and no proper access for sanitary dressings or, more importantly, female hygiene. She only had a tiny vestigial opening to allow a reduced unhygienic flow. The girl would always smell thus until her scar was opened fully and she was properly able to attend her needs. Then, with the scabs barely healed, she would have been virtually raped by some ignorant loutish farmer who had become her husband by arrangement.

Her wedding night would have been a nightmare. There would have been no joy or pleasure for her. The crude ‘circumcision’ at birth would have removed any normal pleasurable sensations for her. With virtually no clitoris, it would have been nothing more than a mechanical penetration to get her pregnant. As a woman, she was destined to become little more than an unfeeling reproduction machine.

By western mores, every sex act would have been virtually an agonising rape. No foreplay, no lubrication, no ‘consent’, simply a brutal, tearing invasion of her desensitised womanhood.’

Iona shuddered for she knew all about rape. Gently she reached out and stroked the girl’s tear stained face as she spoke.

“So you hope there is a doctor in Cairo who can help you?”

The girl nodded hopefully.

“Do you know of one for definite?” asked Iona recognising the girl’s uncertainty.

The girl’s gaze fell floorward again and she wagged her head slowly before speaking.

“No but I need money to find out. My bus fare, medical fees and everything.”

“That will take a lot of money,” cautioned Iona.

“It’s that or I kill myself!” protested the girl.

Iona’s telepathy recognised the real forces of pain, anger and despair that signalled the very real intent of suicide. The girl was deadly serious and the threat of her brothers was very real. Iona examined the girl’s memories and images and concluded the girl was telling nothing but truth. She decided to help the girl.
Additionally, the girl had been brutally infibulated, - ‘probably within a few days of birth in some crude, unhygienic village ritual-, to ensure virginity on the wedding night.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“That’s old for an unmarried girl from the country. How long have you left your village?”
“Nearly a year. I refused every marriage contract since I was fifteen. That’s why I was accused of being a witch.”

“That figures,” concluded Iona. “Well I will take you under my wing as of now. You can stay here in the hotel and I will sort it with the manager. We will have to get you out of those clothes though and properly washed. The hotel is a little sensitive about its clientele and those shabby rags will embarrass them. It surprises me that you got past the door. A little shopping is needed but first we embark upon our first crossing over to the ‘dark side’ as you call it.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly with nervousness.

“What; here in the hotel?”

“Yes. It’s the safest place, nobody will disturb us. This is one of the top presidential apartments. Normally a guest taking these rooms would have their own personal staff and the rooms reflect this. There are three en-suite bedrooms and I have my own mini kitchen. I can prepare some herbs here.”

So saying, Iona stepped into the mini kitchen and started boiling some water as she prepared an assortment of herbs. The girl watched then accepted Iona’s invitation to assist. As she pulverised some seeds, she soon realised there were two different dosages.

“Why two?” she asked.
“We are different in many ways. Herbs affect us differently.”
“How can I trust you?” continued the girl.
“You’ll just have to. You came to me remember. You obviously know a little about the herbs otherwise you would not have noticed my purchases. Have you seen anything dangerous being added?”
Iona’s logic persuaded the girl for she was desperate. After an hour spent preparing the herbs, the pair settled on opposite sofas took their doses and fell into a trance.
It was Iona’s first crossing since leaving the Indian nations. The herbs were different from those used by ‘He that sees’ but there were no complications. The accompanying girl was stunned to learn that the Dark Side actually had light and that the light actually felt friendly. There was no threat and the girl sensed an all-enveloping sense of warmth.
Iona felt the girl’s excitement mount and decided that enough had been achieved. Tomorrow she wanted to take her four children on a similar crossing so practising with an Arab peasant girl had been a useful test.
Iona was already awake and brewing some more tea when the girl finally recovered from her trance.
“Back with us I see.”
The girl swayed drunkenly and blinked uncertainly as she woke. Cautiously she took the proffered cup and sipped it as though testing it.
“Go on. It’s not poisoned.”
So saying, Iona lifted the cup and took a substantial drink to reassure the girl.
“If I’d wanted to kill you I could have easily done it whilst you were sleeping.”
The girl met her gaze and nodded before apologising.
“I’m Sorry. I’m still nervous.”
“Yes you must learn to trust me. How did you enjoy your trip?”
“It wasn’t what I expected.”
“And what did you expect?” pressed Iona. “The descent into the pit, flames and purgatory, tortured souls, the great Satan?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“Don’t believe everything your Imam tells you. The gateway to the other side is not the gate to hell.”
“Is it wrong to cross over?” asked the girl.
“I don’t think so. It’s never harmed me; done me some good in fact.”
“How?”
“It’s a long story; too long to tell now. Come on, the shops will be opening soon; we need to get you tidied up and washed.”
The girl cringed self-consciously.
“Is it noticeable?”
“To a woman’s nose, yes.”
“I- I cannot prevent it.”
“We’ll get that sorted by and by. For now, go and shower. I’ll pop down to the hotel foyer and buy some strong perfume.”
When Iona returned, the girl was still showering so she started preparing herbs for tomorrow’s crossing with her children. Eventually the girl emerged and Iona nodded to the perfume.
“It’s cheap but strong. That and the shower should help to disguise your problem.”
The girl sniffed the perfume then recognised the smell of Iona’s boiling herbs.
“What are they for?”
“I cross again tomorrow. Not with you though.”
“Why not?”
“I have other rows to hoe. Come on, get dressed.”
The girl re-robed quickly and they visited the souk. There, in its narrow shady alleys, they quickly assembled a modest wardrobe and bought a new black burkah. Iona quickly recognised its purpose to cover the girl from head to toe and prevent recognition by her brothers. The burqa and niqab served as a perfect cover. It provided anonymity and invisibility. Iona so admired the girl’s simple tactic that she bought an outfit for herself.
The following morning Iona debated taking the girl along to meet her children in the Valley of the Kings but decided against it. The less people knew of telepathy, the better. The girl could not stay in Iona’s room so she agreed to go into the town and return in the late afternoon.
At breakfast, in their burkahs, Iona and the girl got some strange stares from other guests but she ignored them and they continued chatting until eleven. Then they parted at the hotel steps. Iona’s four children were already across the river and waiting for their father as they rendezvoused at the taxi rank and shared a cab to the valley. It was gone noon when they arrived in the scorching heat of ‘The Valley of the Kings’.
In the deathly silence, they found a secluded corner and Iona explained her intentions before handing out the herbs.
“I’m hoping that our combined resources might enable us to reach further into the other side than a single visitor can. My native Indian guide, ‘He that sees’, always believed if more people crossed over together, they could achieve more.”
In this Iona proved ‘He that sees’ to be right but even she was pleasantly surprised to learn how much more could be done. She knew that on Thursdays, the Native American children often crossed over in the early morning and the time difference coincided with the late evening in Egypt. She was pleased and excited to ‘meet’ with the Indian children who had done exactly as she had hoped. Across the vast earthly distances, she ‘introduced’ her children to the Indian children, their mother Dawn and her first nations father He that Sees. Everybody savoured the exchange before reluctantly returning to their earthly bodies.
For the children it had proved a valuable exercise and demonstrated a heretofore-unknown aspect of their abilities. From now on, they could arrange to ‘meet’ on the other side whilst thousands of miles apart. It remained only to teach each child about the herbs and the trance. All five decided to stick with ‘He that Sees’ techniques, and after finalising the details, they returned separately to the hotel.
Iona found the Egyptian peasant girl waiting nervously in the foyer. A scan told her the girl had encountered her brothers in the souk but they had not recognised her under the all-embracing bourka and niqab. Up in the room, they arranged to travel to Cairo that night and the girl was stunned to learn that Iona had her own aeroplane. The following morning she met Iona’s four children who had decided to avail themselves of the flight and accompany their father to Cairo.
Once in the huge bustling city, the children separated from their father again whilst the girl stuck like glue to Iona. She was a frightened peasant girl in Cairo’s unfamiliar, raucous, urban chaos. Once in the quiet air-conditioned sanctuary of another hotel apartment, she slumped gratefully into a large sofa then turned curiously to Iona.
“Why do your children call you father?”
Iona shrugged easily.
“Because I am their father.”
“But you are a- a woman.”
“I’m not.”
The girl tensed nervously as Iona passed her a cup of tea and settled on the sofa opposite her.
“But you- you look like a woman; you behave like a woman. Are- are you a eunuch?”
Iona smiled at the girl’s natural tendency to associate any sexual dysphoria with her own Koranic education and customs.
“Good gracious no. I am complete and I function normally. How could I be a father if I was a eunuch?”
The girl accepted Iona’s explanation but Iona noticed a distinct stiffening in the girl’s demeanour. ‘The relationship had changed and Iona knew she would have to put the girl at ease.
“You’re quite safe. I do not act like a man. I will not harm you. Have I done anything yet to cause you fear or harm?”
The girl hesitated then wagged her head. Until she had met the children, she had thought Iona to be entirely a woman. She breathed deeply as she hazarded a question.
“Why do you live as a woman?”
“It’s another long story. You’d better make yourself comfortable.”
The girl drew her legs under her body in a defensive posture and rearranged her bourka to envelope herself completely. Iona smiled at the girl’s modesty. ‘Such caution was a typical defence for a woman in her rigid uneducated world. The girl was a child of her oppressive rural upbringing.’
Iona ignored the girl’s behaviour and poured herself a second cup of tea as she related her life story. It was dark when she finished and she invited the girl to accompany her into the souk for a meal at a restaurant belonging to a lady who had been Iona’s friend during her teenaged wanderings. The girl was reluctant at first but Iona finally persuaded her and they visited the restaurant where old friendships were once again renewed. The proprietress readily gave Iona the names of several doctors who specialised in correcting the wrongs of ignorance inflicted on countless African girls.
When they returned that night to the hotel suite, the girl locked her bedroom door for the first time and Iona smiled.
‘Poor kid. As though anybody could do anything to her with her vagina so cruelly mutilated.’
In the morning, Iona discussed the list of doctors with the girl then arranged to meet her restaurateur friend to consult some of the doctors. The following week, the girl underwent surgery.
It was a different girl who finally emerged from the hospital chattering and giggling as she savoured her new correct condition. Iona smiled sympathetically. The doctor had advised her privately that the clitorectomy had been a particularly invasive and crude affair. There was little tissue left for any repair work and the girl would probably never enjoy the full satisfaction of a proper orgasm. Iona decided not to tell the girl. What she never knew, she would never miss. Sadly Iona’s hopes in this were dashed.
Some days later, Iona heard the girl grunting agitatedly in the shower and wailing softly as the water splattered intermittently betraying her efforts to climax.
“Are you all right Fatima? What’s wrong?”
The girl fell silent then finally emerged with her face beetroot red.
“I don’t know. It is since the operation. I now have needs down there but there is no relief.”
Iona frowned. Another visit to the doctor was called for.
The following morning a worried Iona emerged from the doctor’s clinic. It seemed that occasionally, complications followed surgery involving amputation. This was the appearance of a ‘Phantom Limb Syndrome’. If any nerves were improperly separated, the damaged ends sometimes ‘short-circuited’ and transmitted false sensations to the brain. To the injured individual this often felt like a ‘Phantom Limb’. In Fatima’s case, the doctor’s remedial efforts had partially returned sensation to Fatima’s mutilated clitoral nerves but there was no proper clitoral bud to complete the climactic satisfaction. Fatima kept feeling horny but was unable to satisfy her urges. The situation was serious for the poor girl was becoming demented with need. Iona debated employing a unique solution for it would mean betraying her telepathy.
That night Iona’s mind was made up for her. Throughout the dark hours she was tormented by Fatima’s frustrated whimperings that finally erupted into a shriek of tortured pain as the desperate girl inadvertently ruptured some of the doctor’s careful ‘needle-work’ and drew blood from the mutilated depression that had briefly held her infant clitoris.
Fatima’s shriek was followed by a wail of terror as she struggled with her locked bedroom door and screamed for Iona to come and help her stop the bleeding.
In the shower, Iona carefully inspected Fatima’s ruined femininity and desperately staunched the blood as the girl slowly calmed down and sobbed her anguish.
“Help me Iona! In the name of Allah, help me! Surely he did not mean for this!”
“Allah certainly did not mean this to be done to any woman!” reassured Iona. “Islam forbids this. I know for I have spoken to many Muslim scholars. Islam condemns mutilation.”
“What am I to do?” begged Fatima as she pressed her finger urgently against Iona’s temporary dressing, partly to staunch the blood and partly to assuage the constant demands of her frustrated libido.
“In the morning I will try to help you. For now, I will make you a herbal sleeping draught to knock you out.”
“Please, please!” pleaded Fatima, “I cannot stand much more of this!”
So saying, Iona busied herself in the kitchen and brewed the strongest herbal potion she knew. She found the girl curled into a tensed ball so she gently brought the cup to Fatima’s feverish lips.
“There. That should knock you out. When you wake, at least your body will be rested. We will deal with your libido come morning.”
Fatima whispered ‘thank you’ softly as the herbs took hold and she drifted into oblivion.
Iona slept easier with Fatima knocked senseless by the herbs. No rabid mutterings or cries came from the girl’s bedroom and a quiet calm settled over the hotel suite. The sun was well risen before Fatima woke and stepped cautiously to Iona’s bedroom. She studied the sleeping Iona and decided to confirm if the pretty, western lady really was what she claimed to be, a man.
Iona woke to find the Arab girl’s fingers already inveigling their cautious way into her groin. A suppressed gasp of realisation declared Fatima’s discovery of Iona’s tumescent organ as she realised that Iona was telling the truth. Gently Iona grasped the girl’s offending hand and held it against her semi rigid erection as she whispered.
“Satisfied now?”
The startled girl squeaked with fear then tried to offer an apology.
“I’m sorry. I was just checking to see-.”
“If I was telling the truth,” finished Iona.
“Y- yes.”
“And now that you know for certain, what are your plans?”
“I- I-, nothing, why?”
“Good. Then nothing more shall come of it. Now get out of my room while I dress.”
Fatima slinked guiltily away and prepared a cup of tea by way of apology. Iona smiled when a gentle knock presaged the girl’s return with the tray. Iona had just showered and was only wearing her peignoir. As she turned to answer the girl’s knock, she inadvertently revealed her ripe breasts and fully erect penis. The girl stood staring sheepishly.
“Just put it on the table and stop gaping. You look like a startled fawn.”
The girl continued staring but Iona refused to close her nightdress.
“Well don’t be afraid girl. I’m not going to do anything. Why are you staring like that?”
“It’s your- your thing. It- it’s different. It stands like a soldier.”
Iona realised that the girl had been raised in the strict rigid culture of Egypt’s peasant community. She may never have been told anything about a man’s penis and certainly nothing about erections. As an older sister, she might have seen her baby brother’s penises, but never an adult specimen. Out of respect for the girl’s innocence, Iona turned and slipped some knickers on before re-tying her peignoir under her breasts.
Fatima recovered her composure and placed the tray before sitting on the bed. Iona realised the girl had some questions so she sat on the dressing able stool to reassure her. Any closer approach might have sent the wrong signals.
“Come on Fatima, out with it.”
“Your thing. Is that how it works?”
” Yes. It gets hard and becomes erect.”
“And- and you become aroused; ready to- to do it.”
“I become aroused but I do not necessarily ‘do it’ as you so succinctly put it.”
“But you are ready. I saw it. That’s when men take their pleasures.”
“And who told you that?”
“It is the way. The women told me. When the man is ready he is like- like you are now.”
“And what if the woman is not ready?” countered Iona.
Fatima fell silent. The idea that a woman could be ‘ready’ or ‘not ready’ was alien to her. The idea that a woman should have a choice, a free will, was new. That was the very reasoning behind the brutal mutilation she had suffered as a new-born.
Once a girl was ‘sealed’ at birth, she could never be ‘ready’ as it were. The instance of ‘becoming ready’ was determined by the oppressive climate of her primitive culture. Once a marriage was arranged, she would be ‘made ready’ for sex just before the wedding. After that, she became the property of her husband and free will would continue to be denied her.

All this was utterly contrary to the laws of Islam, but ignorance, illiteracy and oppression prevented many poor African women from ever learning the truth. Fatima had demonstrated supreme courage by escaping the culture trap and this courage endeared her to Iona.
Iona continued supportively.
“You have already answered my question by your courage Fatima. Your escape from the village was your statement of free will.”
The girl looked up tearfully.
“But free to do what? What of this- this- “she hesitated searching for words to describe the sensations from her groin, “this need, this itch-, down here.”
Iona thought long and hard as the girl squirmed self-consciously. If she were to try to resolve Fatima’s frustration, she would somehow have to enter the girl’s mind. Just as she had previously used her telepathy to kill or stun, now she would have to use it to somehow stimulate the girl’s libido. It was going to be a massive test of her telepathy and she would have to reveal her telepathic gift to the primitive girl. God alone knew what effect invading her mind would have on Fatima’s primitive superstitious upbringing. The more Iona considered the idea, the more she realised she would have to warn the girl first.
‘Still’, concluded Iona’ ‘at least Fatima knew about the ‘dark side’ so they were already part way there.’
As she sipped her tea, Iona sighed resignedly.
“Oh well, I suppose I’d better let you in on some secrets. God knows; you already consider me to be a witch or warlock.”
“I don’t!” gasped Fatima trying to deny her inner feelings.
“You do,” countered Iona, “you try to compare me to some of the images, your Imam conjured up during Koran lessons. The trouble is, I just don’t fit any of the terrible images he tried to frighten the children with, do I? No dragons or serpents, no horned beasts of the pit.”
Fatima gazed nervously into Iona’s smiling eyes. The soft easy smile of the strange western lady just did not sit with the terrible warnings uttered by the stern old Imam.
“How did you know about that- the Imam?” whispered Fatima fearfully.
“I know lots of things about you. I know I need not fear you. I must also add that you need not fear me.”
“What? What do you know about me?” urged Fatima.
Iona described a few details of Iona’s memory and the girl’s jaw sagged with terror.
“You can see inside me! You know my thoughts!”
“Yes Fatima. That is my secret but you need not fear it. I do not use it for evil unless evil is used against me. I know your heart is pure.”
For long minutes, Fatima sat silent on the bed, studying the floor as she gathered her racing thoughts. Eventually she turned again to Iona.
“You are truly a magi, aren’t you?”
“A magi-?” wondered Iona aloud.
“Yes. A wise person like those visitors at the birth of your prophet Jesus.”
Iona realised that Fatima meant ‘The Three wise men’.
“If a magi is your word for a telepath, then yes; I am a magi.”
“What did you call it?” asked Fatima.
“A telepath, I took the Arabic extraction for the Greek root. I’m not sure if it translates well going through English.”
“I do not know your word, but I have no proper schooling. Why do you speak of distance?” asked Fatima.
“I can travel into your thoughts from a distance. I see now that you are frightened. Do not be, your thoughts are clean and honest.”
Again, Fatima fell silent before eventually asking the next question.
“How can your magic help me?
“I’m not sure yet. I have many skills but I have never tried to remedy your problem. I can only offer to help. I might fail.”
“Will it harm me?” asked Fatima.
“I do not think so, but I cannot promise.”
“What will you do?”
Iona explained about her limited telekinesis inside the brain and how she could affect the neural pathways. If Fatima were willing, she, Iona, would try to find an alternative neural pathway to total orgasm; perhaps even create a new one. This said, Iona knew better than anybody, the risks and obstacles ahead.
Fatima had no understanding of any part of Iona’s plan but she was desperate for a cure. Iona’s mind raced ahead as she considered several different strategies. Finally, she concluded that a journey via the ‘dark side’ might be the best starting point.
Iona could harness ‘He that sees’ extensive experience as well as Dawn’s female perspective. The Shoshone shamans were well used to ‘travelling’ for medical reasons and women’s problems sometimes stemmed from dissatisfaction with their sexual circumstances. The shaman’s experience in dealing with such problems would prove invaluable to Iona. Fatima’s problems quite definitely originated from that quarter.
Finally, Fatima was already familiar with this journeying to the ‘dark side’ and Iona needed to give the girl all the reassurance she could.
She explained her strategy to Fatima who sat silently contemplating the idea before reluctantly giving assent. The frustration in her loins was becoming life threatening. Fatima was becoming suicidal.
Iona then spent the rest of the morning explaining her telepathy to Fatima who listened entranced by Iona’s explanations and repulsed by the experiences Iona recounted.
“Your life has been a trial,” observed the girl tearfully.
“Think of it as a rite of passage. I am still angry with much that I remember but I can temper that anger. When I see good, I am rewarded twenty-fold. In you I see good, I am therefore prepared to try and help. Your cure is my reward.”
Fatima leaned forward and tearfully embraced the older woman then they started to prepare the herbs in the kitchen.
For two days they experimented with crossing over, then as Thursday rolled around, they prepared to meet ‘He that Sees and his daughter Dawn. Both Shoshone shamans proved immensely helpful and Dawn even offered to join Iona inside Fatima’s mind.
Fatima agreed with this for she was still not entirely comfortable with Iona’s maleness. To have a ‘man’ going unaccompanied through her most intimate sexuality and digging into one’s deepest secrets seemed somehow tantamount to rape. She was grateful for Dawn’s offer. Iona would thus be ‘chaperoned’ according to strict Islamic custom. Dawn for her part was excited at the prospect of entering another person’s mind for strictly medical reasons. It was a unique opportunity to extend her knowledge.
Their efforts occupied the remainder of Thursday and with the time difference, Iona and Fatima did not come out of their trance until the following Friday morning. It was the Muslim Sabbath and Fatima left to go the mosque to give thanks. Iona was exhausted with her efforts and simply slept all day, thankful that the raucous growl of the city was calmed by the peace of the Sabbath. That evening, Fatima returned to find Iona still asleep. For a moment, she was concerned then she remembered Iona’s words about telepathy using much energy. She concluded that whatever Iona had done inside her head was successful; she no longer suffered from the inexorable demands of her phantom clitoris. She would test Iona’s cure later that evening.
Carefully, she prepared some herbal tea then gently wakened Iona as the sun was setting. After showering, Iona visited the hotel restaurant to assuage the painful hunger pangs.
Fatima watched fascinated at the huge amounts of food disappearing off Iona’s plate.
‘Another aspect of Iona’s gift,’ Fatima concluded amusedly, ‘eat like a hog yet never grow fat it seemed. Good for a western woman but Arab men liked their women large. That was another reason Fatima felt uncomfortable about marriage and children. She had watched many overweight Arab mothers huffing and puffing around her primitive village.
The prospect of daily struggling just to haul one’s fat bulk up from the banks of the Nile after every laundry session had horrified her.
Fatima had prayed that there was something better and glad now that she had finally mustered the courage to escape. This Iona, this strange western soothsayer, had really proved a blessing. Fatima studied the older woman quarrying into the food. The strange western woman was very delicate and gentle about the eating process but the food still disappeared at a prodigious rate.
“Do you always eat like that?” Fatima asked.
Iona looked over the heaped plate and smiled.
“Only after a heavy session of telepathy and curing you was a major effort.”
“When can I try the cure?”
“Whenever you like, there’s no surgery or scarring as such. I simply re-directed some sensations to other parts of your body. You will find out when you experiment with your body. Would you like to try tonight?”
“Will you be there in case anything goes wrong?”
“I’ll have to be there. There’s nobody else who can get inside your head.”
Fatima relaxed slightly.
“What will I feel?”
“The sensations you would normally feel if you had an entire clitoris are now re-directed to your nipples. If you stimulate your nipples enough, you will bring yourself to a clitoral climax.”
“What will that feel like?”
“Your first night of true love. You will feel as though the man of your dreams has taken you. You know, every woman’s fantasy; the mysterious desert hero, the prince in white coming to rescue you on his galloping white stallion, all of that and no pain. Do not be afraid when it comes, just let your soul fly. I will be in the next room if you need me.”
Fatima’s heart missed a beat. She had never imagined Iona to have any sense of romance. Every night during her village life, Fatima had lain on the squalid rush mat of her primitive bed and dreamed of some hero rescuing her from the drudgery. Now it seemed, all her dreams were to come true. She fretted as Iona plodded through her meal then she arose impatiently before Iona had wiped her lips.
“There’s no hurry Fatima. You’ve got all night.”
“And I’ve waited all my life.”
Iona shrugged, signed the meal chit and followed the girl through the foyer to the lifts. Once in the privacy of the apartment, the girl turned to Iona and asked.
“What do I do?”
Iona’s eyes narrowed slightly with surprise. Having had her crucial ‘trigger button’ cruelly excised at birth, Fatima was painfully ignorant of any masturbatory techniques. Iona took Fatima’s shoulders and directed her to the bed.
After undressing Fatima down to her matching bra and panty set, she sat beside her on the bed and guided the girl’s nervous finger to one of the erect nipples growing stiffer by the second inside the soft satiny bra cups. Gently Iona rubbed the back of Fatima’s thumbnail smoothly over one of the turgid satin covered bumps. Fatima gasped with surprise then squeaked with delight. The satiny sensation transmitted through Fatima’s soft bra cup and sent a shock of delight arrowing down her ‘milk-lines’ towards her groin. Fatima’s knees collapsed as the shock struck its preordained target and she let out a groan.
Gently Iona took Fatima’s other hand and directed it to the other turgid nipple. As the shock amplified, Fatima let out a throaty grunt and closed her eyes. Her frustrated libido now finally took control.
As the girl squirmed and writhed in ecstasy, Iona quietly shut the door and slipped to the privacy of her own room. There she lay on her own bed and carefully probed into Fatima’s mind as the girl rode her dreams to nirvana.
Iona was tempted to enter the whole of Fatima’s mind and share her orgasmic pleasure but then concluded it would be an unfair invasion of her privacy. It was probably the girl’s first orgasm and most young people usually enjoyed that rite of passage in the privacy of their own minds if not their own beds.
Eventually Fatima’s muffled squeals subsided to a breathless whimpering until the girl finally fell silent. Iona decided it was time for a cup of tea and knocked gently on the heavy dividing door.
“Who-is-it?” replied Fatima nervously.
“Who d’ you think it is, silly?”
“Oh, it’s you! Come in.”
Iona entered and placed the tray on the table. Then she turned and smiled knowingly as she studied the shambolic bed. Fatima’s normally long straight hair was twisted and tangled into sweaty strands and the bedclothes lay scattered in crumpled heaps.
“Enjoyed yourself, I see.”
“You could have warned me,” giggled Fatima.
“What and spoil your surprise.”
“Is this how it should be?”
“For a normal girl, yes.”
“So what they did to me in the village, as a baby, that was to stop this.”
“Yes. To tame your libido, to stop you straying.”
Fatima’s eyes glittered with remembered anger as she recollected other brutal abuses of her rights.
“The bastards!”
“Yes indeed,” agreed Iona, “sadly however, you will always have to masturbate your nipples to achieve an orgasm. It’s the best I could do I’m afraid.”
Fatima rose unsteadily to her knees and reached out to embrace Iona.
“It was the best. How will I ever thank you?”
“I’m afraid you’ll never enjoy intercourse with a man; unless you can fondle your nipples, or unless he’s prepared to do it.”
Fatima puckered her lips then lifted both breasts to her lips and squinted knowingly up at Iona as she sucked them and twitched with pleasure.
“If I can do this while he takes me like a dog, then I will manage.”
“Well – yes, - I suppose so. I suppose where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Fatima replaced her breasts into the frilly cups of her nightdress and shuffled on her knees across the bed to the bedside table. As she moved, she suddenly felt the wet sheet.
“Damn! I must have wet myself.”
“I don’t think so,” reassured Iona, “it is normal when a woman is pleasured properly. You wouldn’t have realised because you were concentrating on your nipples. It is simply your love juices flowing. Without them, there would be no lubrication and penetration would be painful. I am glad for you. When the time comes, if you ever want to have a baby, your body will serve you well.”
Fatima slid self-consciously off the bed and studied the tell-tale damp patch. Then she looked guiltily at Iona.
“You have given me back my life. What is your price?”
Iona wagged her head and smiled.
“There is no price. I have done you no favours. Unless I teach you the secrets of the other side, you will have no means of support. You have little education for other jobs, so you have much to learn.”
Fatima considered Iona’s words and nodded slowly.
“Can you teach me telepathy?”
“No. I was born with that.”
“But your children have it.”
“Only from me. I don’t think there is another way; at least, I don’t know of one.”
“Why cannot my children have it then?”
Iona knew it had to come- the inevitable request. The wish to give their children every advantage seemed almost primordial to women. Fatima was no exception; she wanted a telepathic child.
“I cannot marry you,” declared Iona.” If you bore my child out of wedlock, your people would condemn you as a harlot. Islamic law can be strict.”
“Not here, not in Cairo. Nobody need know. Anyway, I will have to stay with you until I have learned the arts of travelling to the other side. Your skill with herbs will take me a long time to learn. I could carry our child as I learn.”
“I cannot stay with you for I cannot stay long in one place. If you wish to learn all my secrets, you will have to stay with me- follow me. Whither I go, you must go.”
“Why must you always be moving?”
“Others want my secrets, or my seed.”
“Who?”
“Governments, people, evil people. They would use telepathy for evil.”
“And you will not let them,” observed the Arab girl.
“No.”
Fatima misread Iona’s answer and sagged despondently. She thought Iona’s answer applied to all, including her. Iona read the girl’s disappointment and took her hand gently.”
“It does not apply to individuals. I know you are not evil, I read it in here.” (Iona tapped her own forehead as she continued.) “If you want my child, you must be prepared to travel far. You will be with child as we travel and that could be hard for you.”
“That is no hardship. I will have no life here in Cairo until I have your knowledge of the herbs and the other side. How will I pay for it?”
“That knowledge will be free; it was given to me freely. If you have my child, I will support it. It will be no hardship and it is every father’s obligation. When next we visit ‘He that sees’ and his granddaughter, Dawn, they will explain.”
Fatima seemed to sag with relief then smiled enigmatically.
“How will we make the child?”
“As god designed it,” replied Iona, “adopting Fatima’s Islamic background as a starting point to circumvent her moral and religious reservations about illegitimacy.”
“But- but it would be wrong for me to sleep with another woman. The Koran says- “
Iona interrupted quickly.
“Fatima, I am not a woman! Although I dress as a woman, look like a woman, behave like a woman and sometimes even think like a woman, God made me a man!”
Fatima relaxed and Iona smiled inwardly.
‘The first time Iona had declared her masculinity to Fatima, the poor girl had tensed up with fear. Now, this second time, the girl had relaxed. Once Fatima had committed herself to having Iona’s child, her natural mothering instincts had conjoined with her primitive rural perspectives to surmount the moral issues in her mind. Now her Muslim morality could bypass the obstacle of her future child’s legitimacy.
‘If the child was recognised and protected by the father and properly supported, then it’s essential rights to nurture and education, were respected. Islamic law was fulfilled as far as the child was concerned. As to Islam and her own life, well Allah was all forgiving and all merciful. It was the Imams and the mutilators who had been cruel to her.’
Fatima was not a stupid girl, in fact her determination to seek a better life was proof of her innate intellect. Iona’s ideas therefore seemed a reasonable compromise between her growing ‘modern’ perspective and the strictures of her rustic upbringing.
‘Allah would surely forgive any girl who nurtured her child and fulfilled her motherly obligations, especially if the child’s father supported the child. From the child’s point of view, it was a marriage in all but the narrow letter of very bad laws.’
” Will my child be able to see you? To visit you as any child visits its father.”
“Yes, within the bounds of my fugacy. Later your child will be able to cross over and bring us together howsoever we are separated.”
“You mean like you and ‘He that sees’?”
“And my other children. Your child will have telepathic brothers and sisters. They will also watch over him or her. Your child will never be lonely.”
This finally decided it for Fatima. To have a telepathic child, would settle her maternalistic needs whilst ensuring her telepathic child would have all the advantages in the new world order. Fatima was a bright intelligent girl who could readily see what the future held. Iona smiled knowingly as she recognised the familiar emotions and thoughts whirling in Fatima’s brain. Gently she slid onto the bed and invited Fatima to join her.
Fatima’s teacup rattled on the saucer betraying her nerves as she placed it on the table and lay back on the bed.
“Are we to do it now?”
“Only if you wish. Your body is ready, you are ovulating.”
“Ov- ovu- what?”
“You are in season, ready to conceive.”
“In season! I am not a mare, a bitch from the street. I want it to be the real thing. I have read lots of stories-.”
“What you have read is probably romantic drivel. I cannot love you. I cannot explain now. You do not know much about me. Time is pressing. They will trace my plane very quickly and I must move on. If you want my child, now is best. I can promise you it will be pleasant. There will be no pain during conception. As to the birth, I can’t answer.”
Fatima squinted curiously then grinned knowingly as she reached up to embrace Iona. As the satiny cups of their silky nightdresses brushed together, their nipples stiffened and the turgid buds fenced eagerly. Fatima gave a shudder of delight. Within moments, darting twinges of pleasure took that urgency to Fatima’s loins. Iona’s silky nightie tented and slithered erotically as her stiffening response searched knowingly for Fatima’s divide. For a few minutes, the slithery silky nighties tantalised the pair as the frictionless motion frustrated their attempts to conjoin. The transvestite Iona savoured this delightful sensation until Fatima growled with frustration and tugged the frilly hems up past their rounded bellies to bring their naked bodies together. Iona’s hard penis ‘plopped’ with unexpected ease into Fatima’s eager soaking body and Iona realised the doctor had worked extra hard to ensure that Fatima’s virginal scabbard would not cause the girl any pain. Mentally, Iona saluted the doctor and realised she was obviously a concerned and compassionate soul who did her best to remedy the damages done by an ignorant Islamic village society to a helpless female baby.
Once conjoined, Iona entered Fatima’s mind and gently co-ordinated the girls’ bodily and mental needs until Fatima exploded in a mountainous, convulsive orgasm. For several minutes, Fatima’s body arched and plunged in a frenzy of excitement as Iona’s tiny body struggled to ride the storm during the peak of her own ejaculation. Eventually Fatima’s paroxysms subsided and her thundering heart slowed to a deep regular thump as she sucked mightily for air. The tiny Iona slumped happily between the girl’s heaving breasts and Fatima giggled as Iona’s hair tickled her nipples.
“Stop that or you’ll have me off again.”
“D’ you want it again?” asked Iona.
“Not yet, let’s wait until tonight. I’m hungry, shall we go and eat?”
Iona also felt the pangs of hunger pinch her belly and she slithered easily off Fatima’s satin encased torso. As they sat up, their nighties clung together with static and they giggled as the sparks crackled.
“It must be love,” whispered Fatima as she stroked the silky material of Iona’s nightie and caused more sparks to whisper between them.
Iona grinned and invited Fatima to share her bath where they indulged in more play before visiting the hotel restaurant. To avoid any recognition Fatima wore her bourka and Iona followed suit. It was marvellous how the long anonymous cloak gave them privacy and she grinned inwardly. After eating, they decided to savour the cool of the evening by visiting the souk.
As the pair wandered along the maze of narrow alleys, Iona felt her children reaching out from across the city. She paused by a brilliantly lit gold shop and absorbed Ben’s long-distance telepathic message.
“There are two men searching for you dad. They are older brothers of the girl accompanying you. Are you OK?”
Iona reassured her children and they agreed to meet on the banks of the Nile. There they confirmed that one of the doctor’s appointment clerks had inadvertently revealed some snippet of information that had filtered down to Luxor. The brothers had learned of it and made their way to Cairo. They already knew the address of the woman doctor and anticipated forcing Fatima’s address from her. Armed with this knowledge, Iona decided to stop them finally. Ben’s long-range telepathy had easily located the brothers so the family laid a trap.
The following morning they located the brothers making their purposeful way to the lady doctor’s surgery. Iona and Ben followed them into the building as the daughters and Fatima waited outside. Like the bullies they were, they burst open the lady doctor’s consulting room door and were about to start beating the knowledge of their sister’s whereabouts out of her.
As the doctor stiffened in her chair her terrified gaze turned from the menacing brothers to the strange pair who had appeared, as if by magic, in the doorway behind them. Ben stood silent as the bullying brothers turned to confront the diminutive Arab woman in the all-enveloping bourka.
” Bugger off you little cow! We’ve got business to settle with this bitch.”
“Would that business be your sister Fatima?” asked Iona in perfect Arabic.
The brothers tensed and turned to confront the tiny woman.
“What do you know of her?”
“That she is afraid of you and she is trying to escape from you.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Tell us or we’ll kill you.”
“I think not,” cautioned Iona softly.
“Tell us bitch!” cursed the nearer man as he grabbed at the diminutive woman.
When the man’s hand touched Iona’s shoulder, Ben lashed out and the man slumped unconscious to the floor. In reality, Iona and Ben had co-operated telepathically and Iona’s telepathic punch had actually done the damage. The other brother however, tried to avenge his brother’s injury and quickly followed his brother to the floor. Within seconds, both men were unconscious and the lady doctor stared dumbfounded at the strange pair.
“Thank you and who are you?”
Iona removed her bourka and the lady doctor gaped thankfully.
“Iona! Praise be to Allah. They would have killed me.”
“They still will unless we stop them for good,” cautioned Iona.
“How?”
“Teach them a lesson they will not forget.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Wait, I will speak with Fatima. Go and fetch her Ben.”
Iona quickly established that both brothers were fathers with large families so any damage to their masculinity would not affect their family’s economic prospects There were plenty of sons already born of Fatima’s hard used sisters in law. Indeed, both women were worn out with constant childbearing.
Iona wanted to remove the brother’s penises and let them understand the horror of Fatima’s mutilation first-hand but the doctor refused to do this. She was compassionate and explained that the brother’s subsequent sexual frustrations might be taken out on the wives. Besides, the damage would be too obvious and they would be able to prove assault.
Far better to technically castrate them and keep them unconscious for a few weeks until the pain had subsided. With a pair of disconnected and sterile but still sensitive testicles in their scrotums, producing neither sperm nor testosterone, they would take a long time to realise that they could not function sexually and lacked any sex drive. Their de-sexed, circumcised wives would also finally enjoy permanent relief from their husband’s previously brutish and constant demands.
Iona acceded to this and the castrations duly went ahead. Six weeks later, long after Iona and Fatima had left Africa, the evil brothers woke in a dark alley in their own village wondering where the missing weeks had gone. The trail had gone cold and they reluctantly returned to their families in the upper Nile valley. The two wives enjoyed a peaceful reunion with their gentled, emasculated husbands.
Naturally at first, the brothers were alarmed that there `equipment’ would not work but being too arrogant and proud to seek medical help, they ascribed their inability to function as `real men’ to have been the result of some evil curse put upon them by their evil younger sister. They were too afraid to go looking again and it would not have mattered anyway. Fatima had escaped Egypt with Iona and her family.
With no urges to bother them, the brothers settled to working their farms and their exhausted wives at last found a well-earned and deserving peace.
Iona and Fatima were free to pursue Fatima’s education about herbs and attend upon Fatima’s forthcoming motherhood. Iona had long wished to visit India and there meet with Indian holy men to discuss and research their investigations into the other-worlds and strange dimensions. After a last few weeks organising a passport for Fatima, (once again in a false name and after several handsome bribes to corrupt officials,) Fatima was ready to travel. Iona’s little plane `leapfrogged/ via Dubai, and Pakistan to eventually arrive in Mumbai.
For several months the group settled in India where both Iona and Fatima savoured the attention and affection of Iona’s older children as they eagerly anticipated the arrival of yet another telepathic sibling. Simultaneously, Iona and her children took the splendid opportunity to enhance their earning capacity by trading upon the huge and rapidly growing Indian financial markets and thus expanding their portfolios. Soon they were insulated for ever from any vagaries in the financial markets.
Eventually Fatima came to term and in the care of the best hospital in Mumbai she safely delivered of a daughter. When she discovered it was a girl, Fatima was a little disappointed.
“But why?” Begged Iona who was overjoyed at the event.
“I would have preferred a boy. A boy can carry on my name. Boys are superior.”
Iona became a little angry at this remark. After having been educating for nine months, she thought that Fatima would at least have modified her cultural perspective a little bit. Sadly the primitive customs and perspectives inculcated into her from her earliest remembrances were so deeply rooted that it would be impossible to dig them out of Fatima’s psyche. Reluctantly Iona had to go back to fundamental principles of godliness to somehow persuade Fatima of the equality of both sexes. Carefully she spoke to Fatima as the girl, now recovered from her birthing ordeal, savoured the joy of suckling her baby for the first time. Iona’s telepathic adjustments of Fatima’s physiology had already turned any sensations in her nipples into a trigger device for other pleasures and already Fatima was experiencing a delightful frisson of tension as she nursed her child. Iona spoke softly.
“Consider this Fatima. What have you just achieved?”
“Why a baby of course, this little beauty.”
“Exactly. Now, can a man do that? Can a man produce a living thing, a child; a child as beautiful as her?”
“Well, - no.” Conceded Fatima.
“Precisely. Now do you believe that God had a hand in the creation of Man?”
“Of course. The Quran says so. Are you questioning my faith?”
“So the union of a man and a woman are all part of God’s plan.”
“Well, yes. A man must lie with a woman to beget children.”
“Well at least we agree on that,” smiled Iona, “and do you agree that they, that is the man and the woman, contribute equal parts?”
“Huh, after what I’ve just been put through, I’m not so sure of that!”
Once again, Iona smiled. Already, Fatima’s perspective was changing through the lens of motherhood.
“Well yes, precisely. The father was only there for the conception while you carried the baby to term and bore it. A long process, you’ll agree.”
“Are you trying to tell me something I don’t already know?” Scoffed Fatima. Why you were only there for the pleasures. What do you know of motherhood?”
Iona was pleased with Fatima’s disdainful response. It showed that she was coming to terms with her overwhelming part in the production of Miriam for that was the name Fatima had chosen for her daughter. Fatima was becoming more independent and stronger willed and that would serve her well when confronted by her brothers in Islam. They would no longer be able to bully her and condemn her as a prostitute or a beggar. Besides, Fatima’s newfound wealth would insulate her from such abusive approaches.
Now Iona chose the religious route to try and surmount Fatima’s disappointment in the sex of her child.
Fatima, you have demonstrated that you hold your faith dear to you and I have to respect that, but now I am going to explain my beliefs.
“I believe in God, yes, - I do, - that’s the same God as the God of Abraham, Moses Jesus and Mohammed. The one God, the true God.
I believe that God to be the God of love, compassion, mercy and forgiveness, the same God who judges us on the other side. I’m not sure how close I come to God when I `cross over’ and to tell the truth I don’t want to know. I’ve done some bad things in my time but I believe I was simply defending myself, my gifts and my children’s gifts from people who are more evil than I, People who would probably abuse those gifts and somehow oppress none gifted others long after I am gone. They would try to keep the gift only to themselves and somehow oppress others whom they deem to be their enemies.”
“Develop a super-race,” observed Fatima disgustedly.
“Exactly. I don’t want that. I’ve known enough of what it’s like to be adjudged the lesser mortal, the sub being, the one to be cast aside when push comes to shove in the survival stakes; the last in the queue. I’ve been there Fatima. It’s a very dark place.”
“So how does this affect the sex of my child?”
“I believe that a telepathic boy child brought up with many of the conceits that Islam ascribes to men over women, mostly through perverted misinterpretations of the Quran, would have problems reconciling his gifts to perceived unbelievers’ infidels and all that stuff.
I believe it is far better for telepathy to be brought to Muslims via a woman; a woman who is reared compassionately, lovingly and tenderly. If mankind is to reach successfully for this next evolutionary challenge then it behoves the old faiths to reconcile themselves to the advent of telepathy where lies, deceits and cruelty will be swiftly winkled out and dealt with.”
“Punished,” pressed Fatima hopefully.
“No. Not punished. That’s just it. Punishment hurts in telepathy. Pain and anguish travel too well by telepathy. Killing is desperately destructive to a telepath. Just ask my children.
They simply cannot get their heads around my ability to kill and wound by telepathy. It shocked and stunned them to see me do it when I rescued them from the military research base in America. Even after I had physically rescued my children and their mothers from the very jaws of hell, they still shrank from me in horror. They could not reconcile their telepathy with my awful sickness. None of my children can kill with telepathy. That is a dysfunction created in me by a traumatic childhood. My children still fear me because of this awful disability I have. The ability to kill. They try to love me but this; - this killing thing gets in the way. It is not the normal path of telepathy. That is why I am trying to introduce telepathy carefully, in tiny doses around the world. Later as their ranks expand, it will be safer for them to add to the ranks.
That is where you come in Fatima. By learning of the ways of telepathy, an ordinary human can cross overusing certain herbs and skills, you will in some small part be joining my children and especially our child Miriam, in that ascent into telepathy. Miriam will have to share her telepathy with her half brothers and sisters, that is where you, and Dawn and `He-that-sees, will help her. Even as a young child, she will have the sheer delight of being able to `speak’ with her siblings half a world away. I never had that. I only had madness and the darkness of a singular loneliness.”
Fatima fell silent for already she could sense that Iona was preparing the path of separation. A sense of foreboding overtook her as Iona continued.
“In my perspective Fatima, men and women are equal because we are all equal before God. God judges the soul, not the flesh.”
“I see,” conceded Fatima, “so are you leaving me?”
“Not yet. You are not yet fully conversant with the herbs. Once you are, I’ll be gone.”
“Spreading the word, spreading the seed.” Observed Fatima shrewdly.
“Put like that: yes.”
Fatima nodded resignedly. She had seen it coming but was reluctant to face the pain of separation. Iona sensed her pain and it sent the inevitable lance of hurt through her mind. Reluctantly she decided to remain for sufficient time for Fatima to wean her daughter then needs must and she would make her farewells. Thus Iona stayed with Fatima for over two years in Mumbai.
During those years Fatima finally reconciled herself to her faith. Using her telepathy, Iona eventually found an Imam with very compassionate, liberal views and genuinely Islamic ways whom Fatima finally found she could relate to. The particular factor that endeared Fatima to the Imam was his compassionate and respectful acceptance of Fatima’s apparently illegitimate child, Miriam.
Having excellent Arabic born of her Egyptian roots, Fatima found a job as a teacher in the mosque and this endeared her to the mosque’s congregation. Fatima did not of course need the money; indeed her personal fortune enabled her to teach Arabic at the mosque without a fee. However, Fatima was adamant that she would only interpret Islam as she felt it should be taught, as a compassionate, tolerant and caring faith. Fatima had at last found peace and purpose in her life for her newly learned medicinal skills also won her many friends.
After a couple of years, it was a happy Iona who was finally able to say farewell to a contented Muslim mother who was yet again pregnant to Iona for a second time. Once again, it was Iona who used her telepathy to convince the Imam that Fatima’s second daughter was also to be respected and loved as a child of the mosque’s congregation and not to be pilloried for her apparent illegitimacy. Few men could resist a good telepathic warning that was akin almost to a message from God. The Imam was firmly convinced.
Miriam’s younger sister Maha duly arrived in rude good health to complete Fatima’s happiness. Sadly, Iona was soon to leave as she moved on to address her plan to spread telepathy amongst as many peoples as she could. In this she had already realised that her son Ben was preparing to indulge in the same duties. Soon Iona would know of telepathic grandchildren.

Mindful, Book 2.
Chapter 7
Horror.
At Mumbai airport Iona made her farewells to Fatima and the Imam of the mosque. The Imam knew that Iona was somehow a vital component in Fatima’s happiness but he had no idea of the truth. It was enough that Iona had somehow enabled the young Egyptian woman to contribute so much to the success of his mosque. Where he had struggled for years to overcome the evil influences of the local Wahabi Madrassas, this beautiful young Egyptian woman had by dint of personality and wealth brought undreamed of success to his philanthropic endeavours.

Now that his mosque was well funded, he was able to offer free education to many local children and furthermore, that education was much more than the mindless brainwashing to which children of the Wahabi Madrassas were subject. Caring, impoverished parents flocked with their children to his mosque where they were taught maths, science, languages and much else besides just repeating texts from the Quran. They were taught to interpret and discuss the Quran and all importantly, they were taught to think!

The Imam was blissfully happy, for his Mosque had rapidly expanded to become a free college and he knew the monies that supported it came from honest sources, namely Fatima’s seemingly shrewd trading on the Mumbai stock exchange. It was a tearful farewell for both Fatima and the Imam as they hugged Iona tightly.

“Please come back to us some day,” begged the Imam.

“I can’t promise that Imam,” sighed Iona as she continued hugging Fatima and her daughters tightly, “I’ve much to do.”

The Imam turned to Fatima and sighed as Iona walked across the tarmac to her little plane.

“Your friend may not be a Muslim but she is truly godly.”
Fatima nodded tearfully for she was every bit as sad as the Imam to see her friend and mentor leave. She turned and whispered to the Imam.

“She is everything to me and my girls. Once she is gone, and if I feel I can trust you enough, I will tell you how much Iona meant to me.”

“Don’t you trust me yet,” replied the Imam, a little disappointed by Fatima’s deep reserve about her private life.

“I’m a child of the worst that Islam has to offer, fundamentalist bigotry, Wahabist cruelty towards my sisters, and mutilation at birth, believe me dear Imam, it will be a long, long time before I trust any man.”

“But Fatima, you know me! You know that what you have suffered is everything I strive to contest. Surely you trust me now.”

“Not yet Imam, not yet. Give me time.”

The Imam reached out and unusually hugged Fatima to his side. At first, Fatima tensed uncertainly but soon realised there was no sexual content in the affection. She allowed the Imam’s hand to remain around her waist as they watched Iona speaking with the ground engineer in front of the plane. Both Fatima and the Imam waved tearfully as Iona finally climbed into her plane and returned one last wave before clearing with control and taxiing out to take her slot on the runway.

As Iona’s little plane sat holding it’s slot upon the runway, it looked so fragile between two huge commercial jets, Fatima found herself likening it to a tiny wren between two huge eagles and yet that tiny bird held - as only Fatima herself could confirm, - the hopes of the next evolutionary step for mankind.

She turned tearfully to hide her despair from the Iman and her beloved daughters.
As she flew across India, Iona wasn’t really sure what her next step was to be. She had decided to land at Calcutta for she had heard that many Indian scholars and wise men dwelt there. Soon after landing her plane and securing a long-term parking-slot at no small expense, she found herself in the raucous blare and bustle of Calcutta.

As was usual in these instances, as soon as she arrived, Iona made herself comfortable in a prestigious hotel just outside the raucous city and then went out to spend her first night savouring the impossible mix and variety of cultures that Calcutta had to offer. Later, she returned to her `out of town’ hotel and lay sleepily on her luxurious bed while she casually let her telepathy drift across the vast and endless cacophony of human sound that was Calcutta’s hallmark.

When she was in the mood, Iona loved crowds and bustle but even her senses were finally overwhelmed by Calcutta’s inhumane assault on her senses. She eventually closed her telepathy then her hotel windows to shut out the city’s endless blare and rumble. Morning found her gazing at the sunrise across the Ganges for which the hotel was famous and she had to admit to herself that despite the smog that seemed to permanently envelope the city, the sunrise was still a beautiful event. The hotel was some way out of the city and not seriously affected by the smog. After an excellent breakfast Iona felt armed and ready to assault the city’s many fascinating places.

Naturally she sought out temples in her hunt for holy men and when she found one, she would discreetly slide a telepathic probe into that individual’s mind to discern if there was anything of real use or value to her quest. Eventually her wanderings took her deep into the older quarter where her telepathy revealed grotesque pain and disfigurement. On the sidewalks she discovered obscenely disfigured beggars who had obviously been deformed since birth; so much so that they could only have been deliberately deformed by evil people bent on exploiting such obscene deformities. On discovering one particularly unfortunate deformity Iona could bear it no longer. She felt forced to probe deep into the unfortunate’s mind to try and discern how the individual came to be so grotesquely deformed. So much so that it was impossible even to determine if the beggar was male or female. Iona was sickened and stunned to learn that the boy had been castrated then grown inside a vase shaped pot so that his little body could only grow into the shape of the vase. Thus, the child was permanently disfigured and condemned always to simply stand like an inanimate vase, completely incapable of locomotion whilst pleading for money or even food from passers-by.
Every morning and evening, a `minder’ would place the beggar on his regular pitch then collect him every evening and return him to the night hostel where the beggar might just get sufficient food to keep him alive. Iona was sickened to the point of despair by the poor unfortunate’s existence and further angered by the fact that the minder had many of these assorted beggars, cast in various shapes and forms working for him at selected pitches throughout the poorer quarters. What really angered Iona was the apparent equanimity of the local police whom she soon realised were accepting bribes to allow the beast to purvey his unfortunate wares. That same night, Iona followed the beast home as he gathered up his human `vases’. Deep in the old quarter there was a large walled house and garden where Iona finally traced the beast to his lair.

Waiting casually outside, Iona used her telepathy to determine that the beggars were simply dumped in rows on a low shelf while other unfortunate minders blinded by the same beast, fed the beggars as they bleated piteously for food.

Sickened and nauseated by what she had learned, Iona was desperate to work out how such cruelty could be alleviated. The problem was that the damage to the beggars was done. They were destined to face premature death as their deformed bodies failed them through assorted complications caused by their crippling deformities. In the darkness, half blinded by tears, she stumbled angrily away and wandered the streets for half the night trying to resolve the issues. She received some strange looks at times for a European lady to be wandering the unlit, coal-black slums of Calcutta in the small hours would normally have been unheard of. However, her confident demeanour and purposeful angry walk were enough to deter any potential threat. Iona feared no man or even any living thing. Telepathy gave her the wherewithal to address any threats. It was fully four o’clock when she finally arrived at her hotel to be met be astonished stares from the night staff.

“Are you alright madam?” Gasped the night porter as he opened the main doors.

“Perfectly thank you, though I could murder a cup of tea.”

It was no sooner asked for than done and Iona sat reflectively nursing the cup in the main foyer as she contemplated a solution. Eventually she made her way to bed but her nocturnal behaviour had become the talk of the staff and when she appeared for lunch the hotel manager approached her solicitously as she packed away unladylike portions of food.

“Is everything alright Miss Iona?” He asked courteously.

“Why yes Sanjid. Why shouldn’t it be?”

“My night manager, last night, he told me of your lateness. Can you not sleep?”

“Oh yes, I sleep perfectly thank you, I was just out late last night because of what I discovered in the old quarter.”

“You went into the old quarter!” Squeaked the shocked manager.

“Yes. Why not?”

“But it is dangerous madam. It is a terrible place!”

“Yes, indeed it is. I saw some terrible things!”

“You should not go there madam. It is a shame on India for it is a nest of violence and organised crime.”

“And the beggars, - what of them? What of those poor deformed children?”

“As I said madam, it is India’s shame.”

“So why is nothing done?”

“There is organised crime madam. They have powerful contacts.”

“For God’s sake! With whom. Have you been down there?”
“No madam. It is too dangerous. You should not go there either. You were lucky to come back.”

“Well we’ll see about that. I’ll be going there again this afternoon and tonight.”

“But madam! I beseech you. For your own safety!”

“I’ll be safe enough. Don’t worry about me. There’s work to be done, evil men to be punished. Now please, - get me a taxi to the nearest mission, Christian or Muslim, I care not.”

The manager wagged his head uncertainly and spoke a few words of Hindi to the taxi driver who waited for Iona to finish her lunch. Then they sped off towards a catholic mission famous for its charitable work. She was met by a Belgian sister who willingly gave her a tour of the mission and its sister orphanage. After a long discussion and the promise of a large deposit of funds, Iona had finally found a safe haven for the beggar children. It took but a couple of hours to confirm the transfer of massive funds and on her return to the mission, the nuns were soon fawning over her with gratitude. Iona cautioned them that their new charges would be a severe burden to their system and that they would need to co-opt more helpers including doctors however; the huge input of funds would easily cover this expense. After having pre-established a safe haven, Iona then slipped away in preparation for the next phase.

Her telepathy had not prepared her fully for the extent of the criminal organisation surrounding the child beggars. As she waited for the nightly return of the beggar chief with his pathetic charges Iona was astonished to see police actively participating in the collection and delivery of some of the beggars back to the obscene holding shed where the beggars spent their pitiful nights. Then she saw money changing hands as the police slipped away to enjoy their ill-gotten gains. Her mood darkened from one of anger to rage but still she kept her counsel. Iona was nothing if not patient; years of knowing the truth and having an insight into the deepest evils of the mind had made her that. She waited in the deepest shadows outside the walled house until the beggar chief emerged then she followed him to wherever he was bound.

Telepathy told Iona this was yet another obscene location where the man had another vile trade, prostitution.

This however was a far worse trade than the usual exploitation of unfortunate girls. The beggar chief had used his same skills to deform girl babies so that they grew into grotesque forms to satiate the most perverted minds in India. Little girls had been grown in pipes with their limbs compressed so that they resembled dachshunds and yet their female parts were exposed and available for access. Others had been grown with tight bindings around their infantile skulls so that their brains could not grow and they grew to resemble rats and dogs with elongated facial bones and jaws. Yet these same cruelly disfigured girls had hopelessly attenuated intellects caused by the brain damage to their skulls so they were hardly aware of their pitiful state. They had become little more than animated sex toys to please the evil perverts who paid the beggar minder handsome sums to satisfy their perverted lusts.

As Iona’s telepathy scanned the dark places of the brothel and sank yet lower into the perverted minds of men she almost feinted from the images she discovered. Her stomach churned as she stumbled away to recover from the shock. Eventually, as she stumbled mindlessly out of the slums, she found a temple still lit for the night visitors. She recognised it for a famous tourist site and she could hardly credit the reality. Not more than a mile from one of the evillest places she had ever encountered was one of the most famous temples of all India. Iona sat gasping with shock and disbelief as she recovered her composure. Eventually, she induced herself into a trance to try and somehow circumvent the distress in her tormented mind.

She was still there several hours later as the rising sun wobbled through the dense Calcutta haze. Eventually a young holy priest noticed her. He had become concerned that a European woman had been sitting pensively on the steps of the temple for several hours and totally oblivious to the snakes and other creatures around her. It was the strange conduct of one of the temple’s famous king cobras that had alerted the priest to the strange circumstances surrounding the woman. The huge snake had coiled up at her feet with its head actually resting on the woman’s shoe and yet it offered no challenge or threat to the immobile white woman. Indeed, it seemed as if the woman wasn’t even aware of the snake.

The young priest approached cautiously and was alarmed when the snake actually reared up and postured menacingly at him no less; the very priest who normally fed the snake its daily ration of milk. He hesitated fearfully in case the snake might somehow realise where it was and turn on the European woman for it had now rearranged its coils to support its high aggressive posture towards the priest. As he stood poised with uncertainty, the woman glanced up almost unthinkingly and spoke softly in perfect Hindi.

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite you.”

The young priest gasped in astonishment both for the language and the woman’s perfect calm as she sat with one of India’s deadliest snakes now with its coils thrown around her ankles.

Finally the priest found his voice.

“By all that’s holy woman, that is Neera, our biggest and most famous serpent.”

“Yes. I know,” replied the woman as she continued staring pensively down to the floor, “and she’s perfectly safe at my feet.”

“But, - but, she may turn upon you, - she may, -.”

The priest’s words faltered and Iona spoke again, dismissive of the priest’s concerns, as she stroked the rearing snake’s flattened, menacing head.

“She’ll do nothing of the sort. Leave her here with me. Perhaps you could bring us both some food, milk for her, tea for me. I will pay for it.”

Grateful to be somehow relieved of any responsibility for any accident the snake might cause, the priest sidled away to return with a tray of tea, tab-nabs and a large bowl of milk. Iona reached out and took the bowl of milk from the priest’s tray as the snake’s head followed her every action. Then she bent down so that her pale hair actually brushed the cobra’s hood as she placed the milk between her feet and the cobra promptly indulged in its regular morning treat. The priest stood transfixed until Iona invited him to sit with her. She patted the stone beside her.

“May we talk young man? The snake won’t harm you.”

The priest was now beginning to realise that there was something deep and spiritual afoot and he gained confidence as the cobra ignored him while he settled beside the strange white woman.

“How does Neera know you intend her no harm?” Wondered the priest.

“There is no evil in her so there is no harm to her from me. I only hurt the evil ones.”

Finished Iona as she savoured the tab-nabs laid out on the tray.

“But for that, you must be speaking with her.” Gasped the astonished priest.

“Of sorts, yes,” confessed Iona, “is not that how you communicate with her?”

“Well, sort of, but I have to go into a trance, and even then, - well, - it’s dangerous.”

“So you do go into trances,” sighed Iona with relief, for she had finally found a holy man that had at least some contact with the other side.

The priest nodded hesitantly. He had some modest ability to reach across to the other side but it was often fleeting and transient at best. This is what made it dangerous between him and the snake. Sometimes the link was good and he could approach Neera but ofttimes, the link was tenuous and the snake was jumpy. This is what had so endeared him to the strange little European woman, the fact that she was actually sentient and yet Neera seemed quite at peace coiled around her expensive shoes whilst peacefully sipping the milk from the bowl between her feet.

Iona nodded appreciatively as the priest explained at length just how far he could go.

His youthful honesty impressed her but then, after having seen the remarkable demonstration of Iona’s communication with the snake, the youth would probably not have dared to lie or exaggerate his powers. Having realised that the priest was basically honest, Iona made him an offer.

“If you will help me destroy some serious evil in this city, I will help you to cross over and meet your friend Neera properly, so that she will always trust you like she does me.”

The priest’s eyes lit up.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes. But I need herbs to help me cross. Those same herbs will help you, but once we are crossed over, I will have to be your mentor. You must know how dangerous it is.”

The priest nodded fearfully for several of his contemporary young friends and even some older colleagues had failed to return in the several years since he had become a young priest. Crossing over was truly dangerous for an acolyte.

“Why do you use herbs? Can’t you use transcendental ways?”

“No I can’t. I wish you’d teach me.”

“But your herbs, if you are more used to the herbal route, why should we not try that?”

“I do not always have access to herbs. If I can find an alternative way, it would be much easier for me, - and for you eventually. If you are not yet fully au-fait with transcendental meditation then perhaps one of your elders, -?”

The young priest frowned uncertainly. He was a junior priest who only had responsibility for the serpent Neera and several other cobras that lived around the temple. If there was any way he could somehow find union with the snakes, his job would be easier and his reputation enhanced. The exchange seemed good enough to him for neither he nor the strange western lady seemed able to properly evaluate the respective sides of the deal. Besides which he was hugely curious. He decided to accept Iona’s request.

“OK then, communion with the snakes in exchange for crossing over by transcendental meditation.”

With the deal struck the young priest made his excuses to the temple elders and returned with Iona to her hotel room. At first she received some suspicious looks from the staff until the priest was able to prove his credentials via one of the under porters who could vouch for his position at the temple. Once in Iona’s room the priest studied Iona’s assorted collection of herbs and frowned.

“I don’t recognise all these.”

“No. Some are from America and some from Egypt. There are enough herbs here to cross over many times so we will be able to practice while I learn meditative ways.”

The young priest nodded and Iona promptly brewed some herbs. As he carefully watched the preparations, the priest asked why she brewed different mixtures for each of them and Iona explained about her differing bodily needs. The fact that she was more womanly and he more manly was enough to convince the priest that the explanation was legitimate. He carefully sipped the bitter herbal tea. Iona followed suite and soon the pair were deep in their herb induced trance. To his amazement and delight the young priest was shocked to realise that he shared the `same dream’ as Iona and she guided him over the other side with consummate skill. There they explored various situations until Iona felt them being pulled back to the conscious side as the drugs wore off. She mentally took hold of the young priest and dragged him back with her just as `He-that-sees’ had done on her first shared crossing-over. Once back in the land of the living the priest was stunned to learn of the time factor.

“It’s just incredible. We’ve been crossed over for nearly three days and yet it only seems like minutes.”
As they recovered from their exertions, Iona and the priest called room service and ordered a huge meal. As they replenished their famished bodies, they talked at length about meditative techniques.

“Why are you so surprised about the time thing? Isn’t it the same by meditation?”

“No. The time remains real.”

“This is interesting. Do tell,” begged Iona.

The priest went on to explain what techniques he used to enter his trance and Iona listened fascinated.

“So everybody uses slightly different techniques then.”

“Sort of. You have to concentrate for a long period. Longer than it takes for you to mix the herbs and administer them.”

Shall we try then? I have used mild trances to drive away demons in my head before.”

“Well that’s a start. Right, get yourself comfortable and try to fixate on a point just above your own eyes somewhere in the centre of your forehead.”

“That’s what I used to do before.”

“Well then it should be easier for you. While you’re doing that, I will use some soporific sounds to help you enter your trance. Once I’m happy with your condition I’ll try to join you.”

Iona grinned at the young priest’s enthusiasm and lay back as he gently rubbed her temples.

“Mmmm! That’s good.” She sighed contentedly.
The priest ignored her dreamy observations and continued slowly massaging her temples as he commenced droning in a low monotone cadence. Soon Iona was out of it and slowly found herself in the familiar location in front of the black obsidian barrier that had always represented to her as the barrier to be crossed over. Uncertain of what to do, she decided to wait for the young priest to join her. This was not from fear of going it alone but because she genuinely wanted to teach the priest the techniques for crossing over. Soon she sensed the priest approaching out of the misty side of the living until he was beside her at the wall.

“So here we are then. Are we going to cross?”

“Have you tried this before, using meditation?” Asked Iona.

“No. I was not ready and I was too afraid. It was easy with your herbs.”

“Well, we’d best go cautiously. For there is the time difference thing and I don’t know what’s afoot.”

The young priest cautiously pushed at the black mass and grinned as he `felt’ it give slightly.

“Do we just push harder?” He asked Iona.

“Seems like it. Let’s do it together.”

The pair placed their hands upon each other’s and quickly felt the wall surrendered to their efforts. The found themselves on the other side and studying the familiar light beyond the tunnel.

“Now what?” Asked the priest.

“I’d like to talk with my friends if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest. I’ve never been here before. Leastways not by transcendental meditation. Who are your friends?”

“You’ll see.”

So saying, Iona sent a telepathic message across the ether and was delighted when Fatima answered first. Fatima’s joy enveloped the priest who wagged his head uncertainly.

“She’s a Muslim. Muslims don’t do the dark side.”

“What’s dark about this?” Demanded Fatima.

“Go on. Answer her,” chuckled Iona, “tell us both what’s dark about crossing over.”

“I never said it was dark, I said Muslims believe it to be evil.”

“Not this Muslim,” laughed Fatima joyfully. “Hey-up, I believe our Native American friends want to talk.”

Soon everybody was happily talking and discussing Iona’s newfound skills at transcendental meditation. `He-that-sees’ laughed easily as he recognised the advantages.

“Trans-world telepathy; - anywhere, any how Iona. That’ll be a boon.”

Thus they chatted for an hour or more until Iona began to feel tired.

“I think my body is telling me it wants feeding again. I’ll have to close down,” she declared.

They exchanged farewells and Iona re-joined the young priest back in the `real world’. In the comfort of Iona’s hotel apartment the youth was beside himself with excitement as he recognised what they had just achieved. Iona was pleased to learn that time had passed simultaneously. The priest asked eagerly.

“It’s just so incredible. Do you talk to the dead?”

“Not often. I have done, but the one I most wanted to talk to told me in no uncertain terms to get on with my life. Hence, here I am.”

“Living in India; and fighting against organised crime,” observed the priest thoughtfully.

“Yes, well that and other things,” replied Iona emphatically.

“Do you intend to use this crossing over as a weapon then?”

“I don’t need to. I’ve got other tools.”

“Good. I’m glad. I would hate to see crossing overused for hurting people. We holy men always avoid that.”

“I’m sure you do,” replied Iona to reassure the priest, “now what about your cobra.”

“Ah! Yes. I forgot about her. We’ll have to go back to the temple.”

“Lead on,” ordered Iona; then she had second thoughts. “No, - we’d better eat again first.”

Another huge meal was demolished by Iona as the young priest looked on in amazement.

“By the amount you eat, you should be the size of a house.”

“I have special needs,” replied Iona enigmatically, “remember the snake.”

“How can I forget?”
“You just did,” grinned Iona before concentrating on her food entirely.

The remainder of the meal was eaten in silence as the young priest watched in fascination.

As she finished the last titbit, Iona smiled with satisfaction and invited the priest to lead her back to the temple.

Neera the cobra was sleeping in her usual lair but the priest was astonished to see Iona casually place her hand into the hole and invite the lethal creature out into the day light. The snake coiled herself up on Iona’s lap as several disbelieving older priests stood back cautiously. As Iona relaxed upon the wide step she entered her trance with the assistance of the young priest gently resting Iona’s head in his lap. This time he did not massage Iona’s head, for she went into the trance with ease. Soon she and the priest were unconscious on the steps and the cobra uncoiled its body before sliding around Iona’s neck up onto the priest’s lap and resting its head on the priest’s shoulder.

When they emerged from the trance the priest was overjoyed to find he could actually stroke the snake and fondle it; even carry it as he walked into the temple to offer up his thanks. Iona followed him into the dark recesses of the temple and joined him in his prayer while the serpent lay coiled peacefully at the priest’s knees. Older priests stood back in astonishment until the young priest completed his prayers then the elfin western woman with the strange turquoise eyes turned, whispered a few words to the priest and sidled respectfully out of the temple as the priests started babbling amongst themselves.

Iona left contented with what she had achieved. The deal had been fair. Iona now had the ability to enter the ‘crossing over’ trance without having to use herbs while the priest had his meditative bond with his serpent.

Back at the hotel, Iona found that her room had been thoroughly cleaned and she savoured the luxury of showering then sleeping the early evening away in fresh, clean sheets. As the midnight hour approached she awoke reassured the hotel staff that she was safe, then set off to address the issues of the beggar chief and his evil trades.
From the pitch-black shadows outside the brothel Iona waited. She scanned various minds going in and out as they indulged their obscene perversions on the helplessly deformed girls. Carefully she annotated each pervert in her mind for future punishment until she was confident she had enough names to incriminate the brothel’s evil owner and force the authorities to act. Many of the perverts had been powerful politicians and business tycoons who had paid handsomely to indulge their disgusting perversions so punishing them would be a pleasure.

The Beggar Chief was a powerful leader in the underworld so his punishment would have to suit his crime. Iona decided that twisting his body and leaving him as a helpless cripple would be the most suitable punishment and it would send out a loud message to other such criminals. In the grey ashen light of dawn, Iona finally acted.

By now Iona’s telepathic punch had reached a staggering degree of sophistication. By carefully sliding her probe into the beggar chief’s mind she selected crucial nerve connections and either disabled them or altered their function to cause the beggar chief’s limbs to start slowly `misbehaving’. As he reached for the door of his car to drive from his brothel to his beggar house, he discovered that his arms refused to reach out for the door and his hands would not open to clasp the handle. Indeed his arms were beginning to twist up into tightly knotted claws as they pulled tighter and tighter into his chest.

“What the fuck!” He grunted as he struggled to make his arms obey his brain.

Now that he was standing stupidly beside his expensive car, Iona finally emerged to confront him.

“So how does it feel?”

“What! Wha, -! Who the hell are you?” Snarled the thug.

“I’m your nemesis,” Iona whispered menacingly, “I’m the one sent to punish you for all the evil you do.”
The powerful thug lurched forward as he grasped the meaning of Iona’s words. His intention was to grab the tiny woman and beat her senseless but of course he realised again that he could not move his deformed twisted arms. Furthermore, those same twisted limbs were now digging painfully into his ribs.

“What have you done?” He squealed as he pranced ineffectually trying to reach out for Iona.

“I’ve punished you, just as you have punished all those children.”

Iona had deliberately moved closer and watched the thug measuring the distance between them. She was expecting the kick as the thug lashed out and she instantly retaliated by paralysing the leg and causing the thug to topple over. He fell heavily and helplessly for his arms could not save him and his head struck the ground with a bone crunching impact. He lay there kicking furiously with his remaining active leg whilst cursing and demanding that the evil witch reverse her spell but Iona was not finished.

With another telepathic probe she started to alter the nerve functions in his extended leg. As the leg twisted grotesquely and curled up tightly behind the thug’s back he tried to let out a scream of agony. Suddenly the sound died in his throat and he found he could only croak and grunt as Iona paralysed his vocal chords. His un-uttered scream for help went unheeded and his guttural grunts and croaks did not carry beyond the bounds of his garden walls. He had deliberately chosen his brothel with a large garden as a statement of his wealth, power and connections but now his choice counted against him. In the walled garden with its isolation, Iona was free to do as she wished without interference. She set to with a malice that revealed the damaged side to Iona’s psyche, the side that could now punish wrongdoers and criminals without compassion or feeling.

In the privacy of his own garden, Iona knew that his absence would not be discovered for several hours until his minions came looking for him. By that time, Iona would be long gone. She knelt beside the terrified thug and explained what she was doing and why.
“You are evil,” she whispered to emphasise the menace and power of her very being, “and I am here to punish you? I don’t have to ask why you brutally deformed all those helpless children; I know it was pure greed. Well, greed is as greed does and what goes around comes around. I’m turning you into one of those unfortunate beggars but there will be nobody to carry you around and set you up on the same pitch day in and day out until you finally die of your deformities. When I set you down, you will be stuck there until somebody takes pity upon you. Now, your remaining leg will curl up into a grotesque deformity and you will resemble one of your own vase-like beggar-children; permanently condemned to sit immobile on the same street corner for years grunting and slobbering in your futile attempts to earn a few crumbs for your very survival or until you starve to death. I don’t care, but you can see how you like it. Finally I will cause your features to become so lob-sided and distorted that nobody will recognise you for what you once were.”

With these final words, Iona plunged her telepathic probe deep into the thug’s mind then twisted his features and crooked his neck so that the Beggar Chief would always be stuck gazing at the ground. He let out a final guttural groan as his deformed stumps fluttered helplessly while Iona struggled to manhandle the thug’s immense weight into the passenger seat of his own car. All the time the thug’s helpless body was banging and scraping against the hard edges of the car’s body work and the thug was grunting like a tormented beast.

Eventually, after much effort, Iona had the deformed thug wedged into the seat and secured by the seatbelt. She then drove to a begging pitch on one of the busiest corners of the Beggar Chief’s old realm where his previous child beggar victims had been most successful. After another struggle, she dumped him out into the cold early chill before the street became too busy.

A few early passers-by noticed the event but there had always been a beggar on that corner and they simply assumed a new beggar had been placed on the pitch. Iona did not even turn to look as she drove away to leave the criminal to his fate.

Next she visited a few of the perverts that had visited the brothel and quickly dealt with them in the same way. Several wives awoke in shock to find their terrified husbands immobilised, dumb and deformed in the bed beside them. Finally Iona enlightened the catholic mission about the whereabouts of the child victims and a raid was organised by frightened politicians and police chiefs who had heard of their colleague’s fates through the political grapevine. The story broke the next day and one of Calcutta’s greatest shames was finally exposed. Iona felt her work was done, the evil trade had been exposed once and for all and the evil politicians who had protected it were now being punished She had little left to do, at least, not in India.

As the story rumbled on Iona realised there was no pressure on her to do anything. Nobody connected her to the strange events so there was nobody following her or even seemingly looking for her.

Despite her peaceful existence, Iona felt an urge to see new places. A bitter childhood of always being in secure units and institutions had left their mark. Always needing formal permissions or escorts to go out as a child had inculcated a primordial hatred of boundaries. Iona could not settle long in any place but Calcutta, with its teeming multitudes, offered a sort of secrecy and sanctuary from that permanent feeling of pursuit. For several months, Iona lived a peaceful life of ease and one occasion she was delighted to have Fatima and her daughters visit her. Naturally, one thing led to another, and Fatima became pregnant for a third time. As they discussed the advent of a third child Fatima chatted one evening with her best friend.

“I would have thought you might have given India at least one Hindu daughter or a Buddhist daughter.”

“It’s not important darling,” smiled Iona as she lay with her head on Fatima’s lap savouring Fatima’s soft fingers caressing her head, “you’ve chosen to stay in India so I’ve killed two birds with one stone.”

“Go on smiled Fatima.”

“Well I’ve given Islam telepathy and at the same time I’ve given the Indians telepathy.

Anyway, the faith of the children is not important, it’s their godliness that counts and that will come from telepathic connections with their half siblings”

Fatima smiled as she shifted to bring her legs up onto the settee and make herself more comfortable.

“So’ I’m to be a sort of double Eve am I?”

“Why do you object?” Replied Iona as she twisted to meet Fatima’s eyes.

“Gosh no. Truthfully, I wanted another child. Will it be a girl again?”

“Yes. Twins I’m afraid. I was one of twins so it’s quite normal for me to father twins.”

“How do you know this?” Giggled Fatima as she could not resist tracing her fingers over her tummy and gently pressing Iona’s face into its soft fertile contours.

“It’s a gift darling,” snuffled Iona as Fatima giggled again.

“Yeah, and what a gift. By the way, I think Miriam is beginning to develop.”

“She is,” confirmed Iona, “I’ve already detected it. Girls develop faster than boys.”

“Are you going to keep in touch?”

“Of course, but you are going to have to introduce Miriam to herbs and trances. Her half brothers and sisters will also keep in touch. She’ll really like that.”

They fell to discussing strategies for Fatima’s children then finally retired to bed. Inevitably they were woken by Miriam and Maha bouncing eagerly on their huge hotel bed. After a few more weeks, Fatima prepared to return to Mumbai but not before meeting with and sharing experiences with the young priest and the king cobras. Fatima was fascinated with the priest’s spiritual connection to his wards and ignored the accusative glares from fellow Muslims as she entered a supposedly pagan Hindu temple. When emerged into the square with Neera draped about her bare arms and head, there were gasps of disbelief from passing Muslims.

On these occasions Iona and Fatima met and talked with the young priest as they each perfected their skills, until one day the young priest mentioned levitation.

“Gosh, can you do that?” Gasped Iona excitedly.

“No. But there are those over the mountains who are reputed to be able.”

“You mean the Buddhist monks in Tibet!”

The priest nodded sagely and Fatima sighed knowingly. She knew now what Iona’s next objective was and simultaneously regretted the forthcoming separation.

Back at the hotel Fatima confirmed her suspicions.

“So it’s the Buddhists next is it?”

“F'raid so, I can’t help it. Telepathy makes me want to explore all sorts of cerebral stuff.”

Fatima nodded resignedly. Much though she loved Iona she knew she could not have her all to herself. To try and `keep` Iona, like some butterfly in a jar would kill her spirit. Fatima knew only too well how such constraint could destroy a free spirit. She had an identical free spirit of her own that had driven her to escape from the cruel constraints of her own village culture. After having only just escaped such oppression in her own childhood, Fatima understood Iona’s problems better than most.. A tear escaped Fatima’s eye as she contemplated a life without her erstwhile, strange telepathic companion. Iona frowned discontentedly as she read Fatima’s hurt.

“But you’ll always be able to reach me and talk to me. What’s the problem?”

Fatima smiled and wagged her head.
“It’s the physical side that I miss Iona. I just love the physical presence, the cuddling and the loving in bed, together.”

Iona fell silent. Whilst she had finally managed to reach an accommodation with the physical side of relationships, she still had hangovers from her brutal childhood abuses. It took deep telepathic insight before Iona could get physically involved with anybody else and even then, the relationship was tenuous. Trust was always an issue, Iona just couldn’t do trust and from that fundamental flaw, came her inability to feel loss when she separated from a companion. She apologised to Fatima for the hurt of separation but still she could not deviate from her lifetime ambition to explore as many aspects of the paranormal as she could find.

Once again, Fatima found herself bidding farewell to Iona as she stood with her daughters on the small airport’s tarmac hugging Iona. Nearby, the flight mechanic tested the aeroplane’s new engines and superchargers that had been fitted to boost the engines over the Himalayas. Iona’s plane let out an ear-splitting roar and Fatima shuddered.

“It sound’s much noisier.”

“Yes. She’s had new engines fitted and superchargers to get her over the mountains.”

“You be careful darling. And don’t take any risks!”

Iona reached up and gave Fatima a final kiss before climbing into the plane and taxiing out to the runway. Fatima stood tearfully watching as the plane slowly became an invisible dot. Then she turned with her daughters and made her way back to Calcutta main airport. She also had a ticket booked for Mumbai that same afternoon.

Mindful
Chapter 8.
Mystical Orient.

Despite the powerful new engines and superchargers, Iona’s modified plane still had to labour manfully as it clawed its way over the stratospheric peaks. At 9,000 metres, she only cleared the mighty peaks by a meagre 1,000 metres, just enough to escape the up-draughts and turbulence caused by the monsoons fighting to clear the mighty Himalayas. At this height, she depended utterly on her oxygen mask while her engines relied entirely on the powerful superchargers to ram the thin air into their greedy maws.

Had it been the dry season, Iona would have slipped along the spectacular valleys between the towering Himalayan ranges but it was now the Monsoon, and storm clouds filled those valleys. Deep in the precipitous gorges, visibility was nil and the cumulus clouds thrashed and swirled as they fought to lift their rain sodden bellies over the impassable heights. If she had ventured below into the cauldrons of rain and hail, the raging turbulence would have snatched her tiny plane and flung it against the crags.
Height was her only safety but height brought its own dangers. Up in the thin, clear, blue sky, only the mightiest peaks poked their razor-sharp crowns above the monsoon clouds that boiled evilly amidst the high passes and dumped their moisture on the southern Himalayan slopes. The dry lighter air then escaped over the Himalayas and ‘jet-streamed’ across Tibet and Lop Nor. The ensuing clear air turbulence rocked and buffeted her little plane as it threaded its lonely path to Lhasa.

Set on the Northern side of this huge barricade of mountains, Tibet nestled on an arid plateau in the rain shadow. The country received little rain and what little that did fall, usually settled as snow mostly to lie frozen for tens of thousands of years before melting off from the glacier feet.
Beyond the northern horizon, the mountains seemed to stretch for eternity before finally plunging into the Lop Nor basin. Iona shuddered at the fearful majesty of the remote mountains and double-checked her GPS for reassurance. As she cleared the mighty barricade, the turbulence eased and she dropped a couple of thousand metres thus enabling her engines to settle into a steady comforting growl.

Eventually, the mountains gentled slightly into less ragged peaks then to more rounded hills. Finally, the precise outline of Lhasa airport sprang out from the chaotic patchwork of dwellings and agriculture. She landed with little fuss and the plane bounced once in the thin mountain air before settling easily on the harsh white concrete.
The hardest obstacle proved to be immigration. As a private pilot, she had to clear health, immigration, police, military intelligence and several other interviews before finally entering Tibet. The strange eccentric ‘lady’ pilot, who was so obsessed with ancient Buddhist philosophy, intrigued the Chinese political officers. They asked many deep and meaningful questions about Buddhism but her telepathy garnished the requisite answers and they were soon convinced of her sincerity about Buddhism. The strange little middle-aged blond obviously enjoyed a deep and intimate knowledge of Buddhism and they finally let her through.
Lhasa was not a closed city, but westerners were getting rarer. Curious eyes followed her as she entered the old city and used telepathy to find a vacant room amidst its narrow steep streets. Accommodation was scarce in the old city and those few western aesthetes who made it into Tibet usually had to use the soulless concrete hotels in the modern town. Every morning a small procession of occidental Caucasians trekked from the harsh, blaring, traffic infested modern Chinese city to the slightly quieter pedestrian bustle of the old Tibetan quarter.
The crude soulless architectural atrocities of the modern Chinese invaders held no attractions to these occidental visitors each seeking their personal nirvanas amidst the old town’s ancient alleyways and monasteries.
Recently, the Chinese had recognised their mistake and moved to remedy their earlier architectural blunders but progress was slow. The new town had now become a festering eyesore of hammering building sites as attempts were made to appease the touristic appreciation of the old city.
Iona was grateful to have found a room in the old city, for once again, telepathy had served her well. At night, it was peaceful and the faint distant growl of the new town was almost inaudible. The old city curfew compelled most foreigners to return to their hotels in the new quarter every night. Each evening the busy little cafes were left to the locals and the few lucky tourists that had managed to find rooms in the old quarter. The real Tibet came out to enjoy the chilly peace of the night.
Terrorism and mugging was blamed for the curfew but in truth, Caucasian occidentals were the safest people on the streets of old Lhasa. What few Tibetan ‘terrorists’ there were, only had an axe to grind with the occupying Chinese. The tiny number of westerners left in the old town at night had to surrender their passports and cameras to the police so they carried little of value, nothing that could invite a mugging. However the truth lay elsewhere, the Tibetan activists considered the westerners as allies who could bear witness to any ‘atrocity’ committed by the detested Chinese. In the dimly lit smoke-filled cafes, the few ‘resident’ westerners were actually welcome in the old city at night.
For Iona however, the political climate was of little concern. Her interest lay in the steady but persistent trickle of rumours that had been filtering for centuries out of Tibet. This was the reputed ability of some Buddhist monks to achieve levitation by transcendental meditation.
Telepathy and other related ‘supernatural forces’ like levitation or ‘connecting with the other side’ had become the driving force in Iona’s middle years.
She now wore her transvestism and feminine sexuality like an old shoe. She hardly remembered being a male unless some particular incident brought it to her notice and that usually only occurred if she developed some sort of relationship. Iona found that with maturity, she found it increasingly difficult to develop long-term relationships. She put it down to her abusive childhood and the burdens associated with telepathy. She felt little need for companionship and she was beginning to find any ensuing intimacy from a relationship invasive.
She knew this reasoning was utterly flawed but she accepted it as an indication of the depth and extent of her dysfunctionality.
‘Know thyself first,’ she reasoned, ‘thence thou canst to thine own self be true, and thus be true to others.’
In Tibet, she had no expectations of any such relationship nor any intentions of starting any; especially the sexual side. She was utterly preoccupied with the spiritual and cerebral issues.
After a week exploring the old city and its monasteries, Iona had scanned the mind of nearly every available monk. Her telepathy had narrowed the possibilities of levitation down to a tiny group of altruistic monks who existed at the most refined level of existence in a secretive little monastery deep amongst the remote mountains of northern Tibet.
Her problem now lay in getting there.
The Chinese occupiers viewed travelling foreigners with greater suspicion even than the ordinary tourist, so she had to pick her moment to leave un-noticed.
A day’s ‘bone-shaking’ in an ancient Tibetan farmer’s truck eventually brought her to the remote mountain pass below the monastery. Telepathy told her that the mountains were alive with rebels but she knew her spectacularly occidental appearance would signal her impartiality. Her stunning blond hair and round turquoise eyes would never be mistaken for an oriental and therefore Chinese. She knew many Tibetan eyes were following her but none carried any threat. A few more hours clambering up a rugged mountain path brought her to the hidden monastery door.
From the road and from the sky, the roughly hewn cave was invisible and Iona realised it was still not known to the Chinese invaders even after twenty years of occupation. The monks were surprised and a little frightened to see her. Telepathy quickly facilitated an entry and it was not long before the altruistic monks realised their visitor was indeed a very rare bird. Nevertheless, the monks still needed convincing that their guest was not after material gain or profit. Iona only managed to convince them by demonstrating the extent of her telepathy and revealing her true gender.
The revelation of her transvestism finally broke the ice. Despite their astringent philosophical existence, the monks all harboured varying degrees of misogyny arising from their Asiatic culture and upbringing. Their deeply ingrained concept of Asian womanhood was one of drudgery and submission. The idea that a man should willingly choose to live and appear as a woman seemed to them as an extreme sacrifice, a sacrifice similar to their own forbearance of all things material. Iona realised that her transvestism had unwittingly unlocked the final door into the fortress of the monk’s distrust. They concluded that the telepathy and the transvestism might be connected through any duality to be found in the human female mind. Iona agreed; she had long suspected that in her own personal circumstances; transvestism and telepathy might be connected.
It was not universal though; her son Ben had no transvestite inclinations whatsoever. Iona often considered this hypothesis and wondered about the recurring question.
‘Didn’t women use both halves of their brain; and wasn’t her own ‘fish organ’ intimately connected to both sides of her whole brain?’ she asked herself, ‘there must be something female in cerebral physiology.’

Whatever it was that caused her dysphoria, Iona found herself accepted utterly by the monks for having declared her transvestism and subsequent vulnerability. The monks agreed to share their knowledge of levitation and transcendental meditation in exchange for her knowledge of telepathy.
For nearly a month, Iona studied with the monks until she finally achieved a state of levitation and then held it longer than any monk had ever achieved. The monks who had witnessed her achievement nodded sagely to each other as she finally descended exhausted to the polished floor of their sacred inner secret chapel. They put it down to her obvious telepathic power and any other inexplicable, unrevealed, paranormal powers that the strange little platinum blond might possess.
‘Here indeed was a truly unique individual! What was more, that same individual had introduced them to another way of passing over by way of herbs and potions and the monks were amazed to find they could communicate to an Indian Shaman in America, a Muslim woman in India and some young westerners who were scattered around Europe.’ What Iona had done was introduce the monks to the telepathic web that was slowly growing as Iona’s children matured and developed their communicative skills. However, the monks could not do telepathy themselves for that was purely a genetic function of Iona’s and her children’s evolved brains. Regretfully, the monks had to accept this. However, they were supremely happy that Iona had `patched them in’ to the world-wide telepathic web that was slowly growing with Iona’s expanding family of children.
After garnering the rudiments of the monk’s secrets and honing them to a higher degree of intensity, Iona concluded it was time to leave. She knew some of the monks were still nervous of her true intentions and were reluctant to let her leave. The monks were terrified that their levitation knowledge might escape their temple and fall into evil hands. She took nearly a week to convince the doubters that she would not abuse her newfound powers and that her aims were entirely altruistic.
‘Indeed!’ she explained, ‘had she not kept her telepathy a secret from the authorities?’
This argument finally convinced the doubters and finally, Iona was able to leave the monastery and return to Lhasa, - only to find she was in trouble with the Chinese authorities. By staying with the monks for that extra week, she had missed the monthly registration check and they had been searching for her.
It took some careful telepathically contrived contrition to placate the offended officials who had actually been genuinely concerned for her safety. Their search for a corpse had produced nothing and they were genuinely convinced that the wealthy western lady had been abducted for ransom. By apologising profusely and offering to pay for the cost of the search, Iona managed to allay suspicion and stay a few more weeks in the old city. By way of explanation, she put her absence down to having made a mistake whilst putting herself into a trance and she had remained unconscious for too long. The Chinese, who, despite their supposed atheist, communistic politics, were themselves alert to spirituality and the Buddhist traditions; accepted her story, for after all she had declared that Buddhism and transcendental meditation was her prime reason for visiting Tibet.
Finally she advised the authorities of her intentions to continue her journey into China.
As she prepared to fly from Lhasa to Beijing, some high-ranking officials became aware of her intended journey. One was a senior general in the people’s army and the other was his lady friend who was a highly placed political commissar in the party. They learned of Iona’s intentions as she processed her papers and the opportunity to fly on a private plane across the roof of the world was too good to miss. They approached Iona and made a deal. They would arrange some convenient, cheap, fuel stops at some military bases if she would kindly carry them as passengers.
The fuel stops were to be weeklong stopovers at some famous historical sites where a lot of archaeological work was in progress. Iona checked their intentions telepathically and learned that the pair shared a passion for archaeology and their own Chinese history.
Not all soldiers and bureaucrats were philistines and this couple’s mutual passion had brought them together. They could not miss a chance to fly from dig to dig.
Iona was in no great hurry. Like them, she shared more than a passing interest in history, - especially the history of China with its long traditions of learning and meditation. She agreed to carry them as passengers and found her applications suddenly speeded up. She gave a wry smile as all her necessary permits arrived by hand delivery within hours of agreeing to share her flight.
The general had intended to take home leave with his elderly parents but this unique opportunity to visit some famous archaeological digs put him in an excellent mood.
He was an unmarried career officer who had only recently met his partner whilst both working in Tibet. They decided to make the flight a honeymoon and Iona was delighted to be invited to the very private wedding ceremony. The trio left Lhasa in high spirits and spent several months hopping between archaeological sites as the general and his commissar bride indulged their hobby. By the time they finally reached Beijing, Iona had some excellent contacts and powerful friends.
In Beijing, the newlyweds and Iona separated. Iona hired a private female guide called Lee Bin to visit all the famous places. She had no schedule or timetable to follow and the girl slowly dropped her inhibitions as Iona employed her telepathy to develop a deep rapport and a rapid understanding of Mandarin. Iona also spent much longer than the average tourist exploring various sites and the girl soon recognised a visitor who shared her own enthusiasm for China’s antiquities.
They quickly became friendly and the girl started to show Iona some of the less savoury side of Chinese life. Telepathy explained why the girl was not a very happy individual.
It seemed that Lee Bin was an ‘orphan’ of the ‘little emperor syndrome’ and in China, despite sixty years of communism, the importance of family was still immense. To have no family left an individual with no proper sense of identity and therefore no proper respectability. Family gave every Chinese individual a deeper connection into China’s long history. Lee Bin felt lost and angry at having no proper sense of identity and no feelings of belonging.
In truth, her orphancy had not been accidental. She was of the first generation of female infant victims to emerge from the ‘little emperor’ syndrome. This social catastrophe had befallen China after the authorities had used crude attempts to control the population growth. They had introduced fines and penalties to any couple that had more than one child in an attempt to stem the population explosion. Inevitably, in the primitive countryside, this had led to millions of first-born female infants being abandoned by peasant couples who desperately wanted a boy to continue the family line. This was both a cultural and proprietal obsession to protect the family’s future wellbeing.
Consequently, rural couples desperate to have a boy, abandoned millions of firstborn female infants on state orphanage doorsteps.
The damage was two-fold.
Baby girls grew up enduring the most basic care and rarely experienced the close, warm, and compassionate affection of a mother. They were simply left in crude ‘baby-bouncers’ for days on end getting zero stimuli either tactile or audible. Consequently, their brain patterns were permanently set and they grew up to become unfeeling dispassionate automatons.
A similar phenomenon had become apparent to western psychiatrists with the fall of the Romanian dictator Chaoucheskow. Thousands of male orphans from the state orphanages of Rumania had grown up with no affection or compassion to become unfeeling brutes who ran the Stazi, the state security apparatus. Rumania had been left encumbered with thousands of emotionally dysfunctional individuals who would forever fail to become fully functional, citizens.
It seemed that an infant’s brain continued developing during the early months of infancy and the essential neural pathways for compassion and affection could only grow if the parents or carers provided the essential stimulus of warmth and affection.
China now had the same problem as Rumania but in spades for the problem was compounded because the victims were girls. These girls were utterly unsuited to motherhood and would never be able to empathise affectionately with their own children who would then grow up as emotionally bankrupt as their own mothers. Chinese doctors were now beginning to see the results of this disastrous policy.
The other side of the coin was equally catastrophic. Many of the firstborn girl babies were left to starve and the population had become grotesquely lop-sided. Consequently, the ‘little emperors’ faced permanent bachelorhood. There were simply not enough women to go around and many of those that were, suffered serious emotional troubles.
There were nearly one hundred million unmarried men in China who had no hope of ever finding a bride and ‘bride snatching’ had reached epidemic proportions.
Prostitution had also exploded to spread disease and AIDS throughout the country.
Iona learned of this disaster at the very personal level when Lee Bin was attacked right in front of her own eyes as they visited some antiques shops in a small city near the great wall.
The attackers were paid abductors who snatched marriageable women off the streets and forced them into marriages with any man who had the wherewithal to pay for the kidnap. It was a growing crime in China.
Unfortunately, of course, they chose the wrong target.
As the gang erupted from the side alley and threw a sack over Lee Bin’s head, they had utterly ignored the inconspicuous little middle-aged ‘white-haired’ companion who was gazing in a shop window.
Lee Bin let out a shriek of terror and Iona turned to see the gang already dragging her guide into the alley towards a waiting van. The attractive Lee Bin would fetch a handsome price irrespective of her emotional unsuitability for motherhood.
As Lee Bin continued screaming and struggling, Iona released a single powerful telepathic blast that disabled the gang and they fell as one to the ground. The blast had also disabled Lee Bin but Iona managed to persuade an elderly Chinese woman to help her remove the sack and drag the girl into the safety of the old woman’s house. With Lee Bin safely hidden, Iona returned to the sleeping gang and used her telepathy to permanently damage the motor nerve connections in their brains.
When they awoke, they would each forever walk with a disabling limp and carry a permanently paralysed right arm. They would never be able to attack any more women. For good measure, Iona further damaged the villain’s speech and sight centres in their brains. With blurred vision and incoherent slurred speech, they would be unable to recognise Lee Bin or Iona.
The old Chinese woman knew about the gang and was clearly terrified of their activities in her neighbourhood. She had displayed supreme courage by helping Iona rescue Lee Bin. After seeing what Iona had done, she was clearly grateful. She had one of the few, female grandchildren in the district and she knew her granddaughter had already been targeted by the gang for the future. The old grandmother cried gratefully as Iona joined her in the courtyard of her home and closed the doors behind her. From the safety of the courtyard, they watched the gang recover their senses and realise their crippling disabilities. Their shocked incoherent squawks of terror attracted the waking Lee Bin who joined the pair and watched with stupefaction as the gang stumbled blindly down the alley towards their van.
“What happened to them?” asked Lee Bin.
“They bit off more than they could chew,” declared Iona dispassionately.
“But they are like beggars, cripples!”
“That’s what they will be for the rest of their lives,” continued Iona.
“How did it happen?” pressed Lee Bin.
Iona motioned silence.
‘Later’, she mouthed silently across the old woman’s stooped back.
Lee Bin nodded acknowledgement and turned to thank the old woman.
“It’s not I but this one you should thank,” replied the old woman.
Lee Bin remained puzzled but realised something auspicious had occurred. The old woman demanded that they stay for tea but Iona was reluctant. To stay near the scene of one of her ‘crimes’ was inviting curiosity. Already other old people were emerging to watch the disabled blinded gang squawking and babbling incoherently around their van for none of them was now capable of driving it. The gang was well known locally for they had terrorised the district over a decade. Many daughters had been lost to their kidnapping and prostitution activities. The gang’s faces were unchanged and each was easily recognisable to the local people. Once their disabilities were deemed permanent, they would face considerable retribution.
Lee Bin explained to Iona that good manners required them to accept the old lady’s invitation to tea, so reluctantly Iona stayed. She would have far preferred to refuse the invitation and be regarded as a ‘foreign barbarian’.
Having stayed for tea, Iona was delighted when the granddaughter returned from school. She was a beautiful child and Iona was charmed by her lively, bright little mind. As the child skipped off to do her homework, Iona turned to the old lady.
“Where’s her mother?”
“Working; she’s a doctor,” declared the old lady proudly.
“And her father?”
“Dead; killed by that gang.”
“Oh! Why?”
“He has a daughter, the reasons should be obvious,” she spat bitterly.
Iona frowned and considered finishing the gang off altogether. There would be no tell-tale signs; the gang would simply collapse dead as a group around the van. She decided against it. A troupe of crippled beggars would be a far better warning to any future gangs hoping to muscle in on their patch and fill the vacancy. Finally, Iona stood to depart and offer her respects for the hospitality extended by the old lady.
“Please stay longer,” begged the old lady, “my daughter is due home soon.”
Lee Bin motioned silently so Iona sat again.
‘The Chinese could be extremely formal sometimes,’ she thought.
“My daughter must thank you properly,” continued the old lady, “we three generations are beholden to you.”
“There’s really no need.”
As Iona’s words left her lips, the locked door to the courtyard clicked and a strikingly beautiful young woman entered. Iona’s heart missed a beat as she and Lee Bin rose to greet her.
For a moment, the young woman’s smile faded. The appearance of strangers usually meant another prospective bridal offer for her young daughter’s future hand. Usually, such offers were preceded by a private approach by the ladies of the other interested family. Hospitality demanded that such ladies were received courteously. Invariably there would be much heartache as the doctor explained her daughter was ‘not for sale’.
The doctor knew her daughter was a bright intelligent child and she was determined her daughter should be allowed to fulfil her potential academically. Furthermore, her daughter was a permanent reminder of her beloved husbands love. This intense love between her and her dead husband had protected the girl as a new-born infant. This same love had led her husband to confront the gang in his endeavours to protect his daughter’s future. This confrontation had led to his murder by the gang.
At birth, both sides of the family had tried to persuade the young couple to dispose of the girl infant and try again for a boy, another ‘little emperor’.

The young doctor and her husband had stuck to their guns and been proven right. Decent ‘respectable’ girls of good family were like gold dust as millions of hopeful bachelors searched desperately for a bride. Intelligent, pretty little girls where at an even greater premium.
Respectable families were desperate to find their sons good wives with no emotional scarring from long years of isolation in the orphanages.
The old lady smiled and grasped her daughters hand to put it in Iona’s.
“It is not another bridal offer Hon Li; this lady is an American.”
Iona refrained from correcting the old lady by saying she was actually Welsh. After all she had two passports and she had entered China on her American one.
The young doctor’s stiff smile relaxed slightly as Iona extended her tiny hand. She read the doctor’s tension and simply waited as the old lady explained.
“This other lady, Lee Bin was being kidnapped by the gang and somehow, the gang was disabled.”
“Yes. I saw them at the top of the ally. They are all crippled and blind. I can’t deny I am not glad but how did it happen?”
“I don’t know,” replied the old grandmother. “One minute they were dragging this young lady away in a sack then suddenly they were lying unconscious on the floor. Some sort of thunderbolt must have struck them.”
Hon Li frowned disbelievingly. There was no evidence of a lightning strike and the gang carried no evidence of any burns. She had briefly examined the huddled terrified gang as she passed by and the gang members all seemed to share identical injuries.
‘A very strange lightning strike indeed!’ She mused as her mother handed her some tea. Then another thought struck her. ‘If the young Lee Bin was amongst them, why was she not injured?’ There’ was more to this than met the eye but the young doctor kept her counsel. Like all her neighbours, she was glad and relieved that some sort of divine retribution had struck the gang. Her little girl might now be able to play in the street with the surfeit of boys from neighbouring homes. The local streets might be a little bit safer but she doubted it. Eternal vigilance was the price to pay for having such an eligible daughter even though she was still not yet ten. The doctor returned her gaze to examine Iona.
‘An undersized, uniquely blond, occidental woman of uncertain age, was utterly out of place in the suburbs of a remote Chinese town; and a woman who spoke fluent Chinese Mandarin at that!’
“So what brings you here?” asked Hon Li.
“My guide, Lee Bin was showing me some of the dreadful conditions in the orphanages. Your daughter is lucky to have a loving home.”
“Are you interested in adopting one of these poor victims?” pressed the doctor ignoring Iona’s remarks about her own daughter.
“No,” replied Iona bluntly.
“So what is your interest?”
“I was hoping to do something more. Maybe build a better facility, perhaps here, in this town.”
“It’s not buildings these little girls need, it’s love and affection. You’d do better by adopting one.”
“Or two or three or twenty-three,” finished Iona, “I’m not cut out to be a mother. Besides’ I’m too old.”
“If you can afford to build an orphanage, you could afford to adopt children,” continued Hon Li.
“That’s a non-starter,” finished Iona, closing the issue. “I am too old to become a mother again; my own children are grown up. Besides, it’s wrong to drag the girls from their own culture.”
“Huh! D’ you call those ghastly orphanages a culture. It’s a culture of deprivation and neglect. You’ve seen it. What d’ you think?”
“I must agree. Lee Bin has not hidden anything. I have seen the worst abuses but I am still not able to adopt. I’m too old. All I can do is help financially.”
“What! All fifty million girls?”
“Is it that many?” wondered Iona aloud.
“Nobody knows,” answered the young doctor. “I was just picking any figure. There are millions of unregistered children. Look at the beggars on the streets. They are not registered. They have no proper identity; they are ‘none-people’.”
“But they are all boys.”
“Of course they are, but the same equation applies to the girls though they are mostly enslaved prostitutes. No girl could go begging in safety. You’ve seen the gangs! The lost girls are hidden in brothels. They die very young, as do the boy beggars for that matter.”
Iona fell silent. Her telepathy had already told her much of this but the doctor’s anger served to concentrate Iona’s thoughts. She turned the tables.
“Do you see a solution?” She asked the doctor.
“No. These kids have nothing going for them. If they pass their teens, they are extremely lucky or very bright.”
“And then?” pressed Iona.
“They usually turn to crime. With no proper identification or registration papers, they cannot get proper jobs or housing. They remain forever out of the loop. The authorities don’t help. They use the non-registration as an excuse to avoid helping them. No papers; no help. It’s a vicious circle.”
Iona fell silent. She read the utter resignation in the doctor’s mind. It sat like a hopeless black mantle as the doctor considered the immensity of the problem. Every day a procession of sick, dying children and teen-agers were brought to her hospital doors needing treatment. Every day she gave them what little she had and sent them back to the streets, mostly to die quickly.
In the early hours of every morning, a silent discreet cart crept around the city street removing the detritus of dead beggars. The bodies were held for a day at the hospital’s morgue then taken away the following evening for cremation. The young doctor had often taken some hopeful relative down to the ghastly place in the remote hope of identifying a body but the bodies were nearly always too emaciated and scarred, to be recognised. The corpses remained anonymous and the visitors disappointed. Most of the bodies were children.
The emaciated younger bodies were invariably boy beggars dead from starvation or exposure. The older ravaged bodies were often those of teenaged female prostitutes thrown out to die after losing whatever attraction they might have had. This was the black side of China’s desperate attempt at population control and the doctor was daily confronted with its horror. The Chinese had re-learnt their social science lessons the hard way. Nature’s laws and demographic equations could not be disobeyed with impunity.
Iona studied the raging frustration burning in Hon Li’s breast and felt the anguish settle heavily in her own heart. A silence settled over the four as they sat with their thoughts.
Eventually, an idea started to germinate in Iona’s mind.
‘Perhaps if she could help produce a generation of telepathic girls then things might go better for the future.’
The problem lay in gaining Hon Li’s trust and Lee Bin’s co-operation.
For several minutes she scanned the other girl’s brains until she had identified the factors that would most persuade the pair.
To the doctor she used the arguments of compassion and caring. Hon Li reminded Iona of Doctor Mary for the two were alike in their humanitarianism.
In Lee Bin, Iona recognised the girl’s ferocious sense of independence and anger at how she had been treated as a child. Lee Bin had no time for maudlin self-pity or sentimentality. Her harsh orphaned childhood had forged a hard, angry self-reliance that could be put to good use if it was guided by Hon Li’s compassion. Iona realised she would have to bring the two minds together and forge a cast iron bond.
Carefully, Iona telepathically ‘seeped’ parallel ideas into both women’s minds and left them to germinate. Then she used her second strategy by broaching some ‘innocent’ ideas during the after-dinner table talk.
“I’m able to fund an orphanage that will care properly for any abandoned little girl babies and provide essential nurturing from an early age.”
Hon Li frowned sceptically.
“That would be prohibitively expensive. Each child really needs a full-time mother. It’s the tactile nurturing in the first weeks that’s so important.”
“Money’s not the issue,” continued Iona, “I already fund a special institute in India to help the ‘rat children’ and other deformed victims of the begging trade. If you’ve any doubts, I can refer you to a good friend of mine, Fatima, the director of the institute. She runs a school in Mumbai and an institute in Calcutta and she is a close personal friend of mine. She will put you right about funding. She will also enlighten you about other things. Do you have passports?”
Hon Li nodded but Lee Bin wagged her head.
“It’s almost impossible to get a passport unless you can prove your parenthood,” she sighed.
“Well I might be able to help you there. I’ve got friends in high places and they owe me a favour or two.”
Iona was thinking of the general and his commissar bride.
Lee Bin’s eyes widened hopefully as Iona sucked her slowly into her web. It was not an evil web. It was simply a series of radiating steps towards ameliorating the immense problem facing China.
Three weeks later the two amazed and somewhat disorientated Chinese girls found themselves in Calcutta talking to Fatima and examining the desperate plight of the deformed beggars.
Hon Li was sickened by the sight and resolved to accept Iona’s offer. ‘If this was the extent and ethicality of Iona’s patronage then there was merit in her offer to build a Chinese orphanage along similar lines. None but a saint would have taken on the thankless burden of the Indian orphanage. Fatima, the Egyptian Muslim peasant girl was that saint, and already, her charitable love was finding fame throughout the monotheistic world.
Furthermore, Fatima was an unmarried mother and, for a Muslim girl, that was a spectacularly brave step. Hon Li was impressed.
For Lee bin the trip to India itself proved a major argument. As an overworked, underpaid tourist guide in China, Lee Bin found it a wonderful opportunity to be on the other side of the tourist equation and be taken around the Indian sub-continent to visit the various sites.
If she became the director of Iona’s special Chinese orphanage it would provide her with opportunities to indulge her greatest wish; travel to other countries. Iona knew of this however, not for nothing was she a telepath and she understood Lee Bin’s selfish motivation. Iona was not however worried about Lee Bin’s selfishness; it was Lee Bin’s drive, determination and organisational skills that Iona wished to harness.
The newfound friends returned to China and Iona resumed enjoying Hon Li’s mother’s hospitality whilst teaching the little daughter English. During Iona’s extended stay, strangely, no thugs or criminals seemed to be blighting the neighbourhood. Several gangs had tried to muscle in but somehow they ended up ‘discouraged’.
Once the orphanage arrangements were concluded Iona explained her two-fold plan. Orphaned girls were to be rescued from the brothels and offered the security of the ‘orphanage’ provided they were prepared to each bear a girl baby and then bring it up in a proper, nurturing mother-child relationship. The girls would be well supported and well provided for and free to come and go as they wished, including foreign travel and education. It was a deal no sensible girl could refuse especially if it proved to be a route out of the slavery and abuse of the orphanages and brothels..
Iona used her telepathy to choose the most suitable and intelligent girls whilst Hon Li checked their health. If the girls were healthy or if any diseases could be cured, then they were selected. It wounded both Iona and Hon Li when they had to reject many girls but there was nothing they could do about the awful circumstances surrounding the girls.
When a girl was selected, lots of money changed hands to release them from the bondage of the brothels. Within a few months, Iona’s orphanage had its first batch of pregnant mothers.
As a doctor, Hon Li was stunned to learn of Iona’s well-hidden masculinity and even further baffled as to why Iona should want to make so many girls pregnant. She was quick to question the reasons for making the girls pregnant and Iona was compelled to take her into her confidence and reveal her telepathy. After a long private dinner far away from other ears, Hon Li emerged a stunned but excited woman. Naturally, she also wanted one of Iona’s telepathic children. As a special treat, and because she had already demonstrated her impartiality about her first baby’s sex, Iona gave Hon Li a boy child. Furthermore, she agreed to a natural conception, which intrigued Hon Li immensely. As a doctor, Hon Li was both fascinated and perplexed by Iona’s strange sexual duality and the nights spent conceiving her baby proved to be some of the most enlightening in her life. Even after confirming herself pregnant, Hon Li remained obsessed with her strange bed-partner and continued the liaison long into the pregnancy. After bearing her son, Hon Li felt her maternal duties to China were completed especially as the father; Iona bore the huge cost of the fine for having a second child.

Hon Li plunged enthusiastically into her second motherhood and the medical care of the telepathic babies in the orphanage. It was a pure delight for her to indulge her passion for medicine in a place where funding was never a problem.

Lee Bin never had a baby and never wanted one. Too damaged by her orphaned childhood, she would remain forever a victim of the emotional deprivation in her infancy. She did however prove to be an able and immensely effective administrator, a veritable harridan who was well able to confront and defeat the authorities whenever the need arose.

Additionally, as the administrator of the institution, Lee Bin was able to regularly indulge her passion for travel when duty called her abroad. Naturally she spent much time commuting to Mumbai and Calcutta to consult and socialise with Fatima. After several years getting the orphanage set up, it was time for Iona to leave. By that time, China was richer by several hundred happy, properly nurtured, telepathic little girls, and one telepathic boy. Iona knew it was time to move on. Like others before her, Hon Li found herself standing on the tarmac as she waved farewell to the enigmatic little transvestite.

After completing her investigations in Tibet and initiating her newfound endeavours in China, Iona had long harboured a wish to seek out the Native Australian Aborigines and investigate exactly what these people did when they entered their ‘dream times’. She had long suspected that it was a similar process to that of ‘He-that-sees’ but she still wished to investigate it. Naturally, of course, if the situation panned out correctly, she might offer the aborigines an opportunity to avail their people of her offer of telepathy by allowing some of their daughters to conceive.
Iona had come to realise that the girls were usually more than keen to conceive a telepathic child; it was often the culture of the people that had to be circumvented.
The day finally arrived when Iona bid her farewells to Asia and departed Shanghai airport southwards to Vietnam then ‘air-hopping’ via the south-eastern Asian countries of Laos, Thailand, Malaya and Singapore.

There she took a break while her trusty little aircraft underwent servicing that required some essential spare parts to be ordered from Canada. With over a month to kill, she availed herself of the sophisticated facilities that Singapore had to offer.
She debated finding a suitable mother to impregnate but concluded there was little chance of finding such an individual in the time available to her. Instead she decided to spend her time at the famous ‘Raffles’ hotel and savour some real luxury. Despite the city state’s fame as a shopping magnet, Iona spent most of her time taking short tourist trips to local historic sites.

Despite her decision not to seek out any suitable girls who might prove to make suitable ‘telepathic Eves’, Iona still searched with occasional telepathic scans while travelling around. Her lackadaisical endeavours, however, did not find any strong candidates for motherhood and the day came when her plane was declared ready. Australia beckoned.

Chapter 9.
Antipodean Dreams.

Iona decided to fly south in easy daylight stages. The tropical islands of the East Indies were notorious for their violent storm clouds where Cumulonimbus clouds often towered up to twenty thousand metres. Her little plane was equipped with radar but it was still risky to travel at night when fatigue and poor visibility would contribute to the dangers. GPS only told you where you were, it did not forecast what lay in one’s meteorological path. To break up the monotony of long island hops, she decided to stop over in Bali for a few nights because of its exotic reputation.
After her experiences with bumpy landings in some of the more remote settlements, it was a positive relief to set down on the excellent Balinese facilities at the international airport.
Iona had never been to Bali before so after booking her hotel through an agency that specialised in serving private pilots, she was grateful to find herself amongst the handful of other private flyers and some military pilots in a specialist hotel close to the airport. Compared with other Indonesian facilities, Bali proved to be a positive luxury. She had arrived late in the afternoon so she had no time to join the tourist trail and instead chose to clean up and spend an hour down in the local flying-club bar. Her pilot’s license plus her landing documentation attached to her aircraft registration certificate and passport, immediately gained her entry to the select private facility.
Other members were intrigued to see an attractive, lone, lady pilot with a Bahamian Air registration on her plane. The fact that the plane had been directed to park right opposite the flying club apron seemed to indicate that the lady had some pull with the airport authorities. Almost before she had settled in her chair with a jug of cold juice several pilots sidled hopefully towards her. The high-ranking Indonesian air-force officer pulled rank on the others and they dropped away as he approached Iona
“Good evening miss. Had a good flight?”
“So-so,” Iona replied as she glanced up with briefest of smiles; just enough to be courteous without appearing confrontational, “bit bumpy in parts but that’s the tropics for you.”
“Yes indeed miss, tropical ‘cu-nims’ can prove very dangerous and this is the season for it. Where’ve you come from?”
“Jakarta.”
“Delivering the plane are you?”
“No.” Iona replied monosyllabically to dissuade any further questions.”
The hopeful paramour did not yet take the hint and tried to press his suit.
“Would you like a drink?”
She tapped the large and obvious jug of iced fruit-juice with the large solitaire on her finger as she replied without looking up again.
“I’ve got one thank you. Besides; I don’t drink alcohol.”
He still did not take the hint.
“Where are you bound?”
“Australia.”
Her vague answer left him at a loss as to how to push his luck so he boldly asked.
“Are you doing anything tonight?”
“Sleeping.”
“Would you not prefer to look around the city?”
“No.”
“It’s got some very beautiful temples.”
“I know.”
She looked up with an obvious frown to indicate she did not want to be bothered but he still didn’t take the hint. As a high-ranking military officer in the Indonesian air-force he thought he almost had a right to expect any woman to submit to his advances.
“Well then how about a meal perhaps.”
Iona was losing patience but she did not raise her voice while remaining courteous to a fault.
“Please sir. I came in here to relax after a six-hundred-mile flight from Jakarta. All I want to do is fill in my log-book, mug-up on the next leg then finish my juice and go to bed – alone! Now, if you don’t mind sir, I’m very tired so please –. “
To emphasis her point she deliberately yawned then returned to filling her flight logbook before consulting her flight-plan preparations for the next leg to Timor. The officer glared at her then sensed the derisive smirks of his associates at the bar who had witnessed the whole incident. Furious at his perceived humiliation he stalked out of the bar and decided to use his rank to bully the hotel receptionist to reveal her room number. This being Indonesia and close to being an Islamic dictatorship, he naturally deemed; being that he was a high-ranking air-force officer, that he had every right to invade an unaccompanied woman’s privacy.
At the desk he demanded to check the guest list and decided to try a different approach later that night.
At nine pm, Iona paid her respects to the other pilots frequenting the bar and made her excuses.
“Well good night gentlemen, see you at breakfast.”
All heads smiled as they turned to follow her out of the bar but Iona had briefly checked out their thoughts with her telepathy and determined that there were no threats. In her room, she quickly disrobed and slumped gratefully onto the large bed.
“Mmmm,” she sighed as she savoured the crisp cool sheets and spread-eagled her tired body. “Nothing to beat clean sheets and a comfy bed.” She murmured before falling asleep.
It was during the small hours that the potential rapist returned slightly the worse for drinking (despite his muslim beliefs) and puffed up with his own arrogance.
Because of his position as commanding officer at the local airbase, he had a long association with the flying club hotel and he knew that the concierge and receptionist often took a brief nap when things had quietened down.
Any late-night and early-morning arrivals had to alert the concierge with the door-bell and that woke the staff up. This meant the reception desk was often unmanned and this was the case when the officer sneaked into the lobby and lifted the spare key to Iona’s room from the pidgeon holes behind the desk.
At three am, Iona was shocked to feel a body sliding onto the bed besides her. It took her a few moments to come around while unwelcome hands reached around her body to abuse her breasts. By the time she was fully aware of things, his hands were squeezing her breasts painfully and starting to pinch her nipples.
Realising that his next moves would discover her innermost secret she spoke forcefully.
“Get out now you bastard, or I’ll scream the house down!”
He reached around to cover her mouth so she bit down hard on his fingers and he grunted with fury.
“You’ll pay for that you bitch!” He snarled.
“No. You will, you fucking animal!” She cursed loudly. “I’ll give you one more chance to get out!”
He let out a contemptuous snort of derision before replying.
“And what?”
Furious at his arrogant, superior attitude, she let go with a telepathic punch that easily disabled her attacker and he slumped silent upon the bed. Having knocked him out, her next step was to hit him with the bedside lamp base hard enough to leave a deep cut and heavy bruise on the back of his head. Next, while the blood dripped onto her bed sheets and pillow from his wound, she dragged him out into the hall and dropped him onto the hall carpet. There he lay until his groaning alerted the night watchman who raised the alarm. Within minutes, the local police were hammering on her door.
“Miss Evans! Miss Evans! Please open this door immediately!”
She wrapped her peignoir around her and answered while keeping the security chain secure.
“What d’ you want?”
“What do you know of this incident?”
Having ascertained that they really were the police she opened the door and invited them in. Then she decided attack was the best form of defence.
“You took your time, why didn’t you or anybody come when I screamed?”
The police inspector stared at the bloodstained pillow and frowned uncertainly.
“What happened?”
“You tell me.” She demanded. “I woke up to find that animal trying to rape me and nobody answered my screams!”
“Did he rape you?” The inspector asked insensitively.
“Not bloody likely, I grabbed bedside lamp and hit him on the head to defend myself.”
With the bloody evidence seemingly all over the bed and carpet, the inspector was forced to accept her version.
“How did he end up in the hall?”
“I dragged him there, he was almost unconscious.”
“Why didn’t you call the police then?”
“Why didn’t someone come when I first screamed? I had no reason to believe there would be any help from that quarter so I had no cause to trust anybody. My solution was to dump him in the hall and barricade my door. He must have had a key or something because the door isn’t broken.”
“Yes, we found the spare concierge key in his pocket, we’re investigating that. Have you got your key?”
She stepped over to her dressing table drawer and located it inside her purse. To reinforce her action she tested it in the door.
“Yes! This my key. Now try that one.”
He did as asked and frowned again as it worked. Iona threw her dressing gown over her peignoir before speaking
“Right. Let’s go and see if the spare key is where it should be behind the reception desk.”
The inspector accompanied her to the foyer and they confirmed that the spare key was missing. The receptionist who had just arrived for work confirmed that the inspector’s key was the spare key and she pointed out the identifying marks. Iona’s key was unmarked. Still holding the initiative, Iona demanded to know how the air-force officer had acquired it.
“He must have distracted the night porter and stolen it from the rack.” The receptionist offered.
“I think he might have,” Iona concurred as she held the inspector in her gaze.
Then she added.
“Was he staying here last night?”
The receptionist checked the register and wagged her head as she rotated the book for the Police inspector’s appraisal. Iona also checked and confirmed.
“No, seemingly he wasn’t; so how did he bypass the concierge and the night porter? This business stinks!” Iona declared. “I expect an explanation when I come back this evening.”
“I need a statement from you first.” The inspector requested respectfully.
“We can do it up in my room, unless you’re treating it as a crime scene.”
“We can wait down here until forensics have finished.”
“I’d like to be present when forensics go in.” Iona replied with insinuation hardening her voice.
‘There was no knowing what cover-up attempts might be tried.’ She told herself; though her telepathy told her that the inspector was essentially an honest but nervous man..
The inspector sensed her suspicious mood and conceded her point. Because the suspected rapist was a very high-ranking air-force officer, there was no knowing what tricks might be pulled. He decided to stay for the forensic investigation himself; if only to protect his own back.
As they turned to go up to her room, the ambulance team emerged from the lift and Iona recognised the vengeful stare from her intended rapist. She stopped to let the ambulance trolley pass and met the man’s glare with an equally hard glittering stare of pure threat. The inspector caught her expression then waited until they were entering the lift, there he gave her a knowing nod.
“You’re not even afraid of him are you?”
“Not one bit.” Iona almost whispered.
The police inspector studied the girl and noted her fearless demeanour before observing.
D’ you know. “In nearly all the rape cases I have attended – “
“It’s ended up with the female victim being charged with prostitution.”
Iona finished for him.
“That’s not fair.” He protested. “This is Bali, it’s not like Java or Sumatra; I know what you’re driving at.”
“Okay, I’ll concede your point,” Iona replied, “but it’s hard enough getting a rape conviction in the western world; out here in a primarily muslim country it’s almost – well it’s utterly impossible. So what will you be charging him with?” She pressed.
“Well he didn’t actually manage to rape you did he?” He argued lamely. “He didn’t even force an entry.”
“No but he stole a key to get in. That’s got to be grounds for conviction.”
“I’ll do my best to get a conviction, but he’s got powerful friends.”
“So have I,” Iona replied with soft menace in her voice.
The inspector fell silent. In the corrupt political and religious cauldron that was Indonesia, one had to tread carefully. He had no idea what sort of powerful connections this woman had so, after all she was a qualified pilot flying her own plane. To avoid getting into any murky situations, he decided to play it straight be the book. As they stepped out onto the landing by Iona’s room he glanced at the forensic specialists gathering blood samples and hair samples then glanced ominously at Iona.
“If forensics do their job correctly, he will have a hard time explaining this away.”
“Good.” Replied Iona. “Now let’s get down to my statement.”
The inspector beckoned to his sergeant to take down the statement but Iona also took out her camera and videoed the whole episode.
“Just in case,” she declared to the inspector and the sergeant.
The inspector grimaced then confessed.
“I don’t blame you. As I said, this guy has got connections.”
Finally the interview was finished but as they were finishing up, there was a knock on her door. The inspector glanced at his sergeant and the pair tensed but Iona had already determined telepathically what was afoot on the other side of the door. She flung the door open wide and the pair of air-force officers were surprised by her sudden appearance.
“What do you want.” She demanded.
They stuttered for a moment, surprised to see a police inspector and sergeant in her room. Iona pressed her advantage.
“Well! Go on. These are police officers and this is a police matter.”
“We, uuhm, we need to interview you.”
You can read the inspector’s notes but I warn you, I’ve got a copy of the interview and a video-taping.
“No we need to advise you that you must remain in Indonesia until the hearing.”
“Who said there’s going to be a hearing?” Asked Iona, totally throwing the pair of their stride.
“It’s been reported that there was an assault. An air-force officer was attacked.”
“Oh yes there was certainly an assault. The man tried to rape me in my own bedroom and he stole the spare bedroom key from reception to get in. I struck him on the head while he was on my bed trying to force himself upon me. That’s his blood on my pillow, and that’s the lamp I struck him with and that’s his blood on the carpet as I had to drag him out of my bedroom because nobody answered my calls for help!”
“Nevertheless, we still have to hold an inquiry.”
Iona was getting exasperated by the man’s persistent innuendo so she took the bull by the horns.
“Very well then. I have posted my flight plan for this coming Thursday so we’d better have an Inquiry today or tomorrow. Is my assailant fit to attend?”
“It will be at least a month before we hold our inquiry.”
Iona bit her tongue. Her telepathy had already told her they were planning some sort of devious cover up. The senior air-force officed loomed over the sitting Iona.
“We will want you to surrender your passport.”
Another quick mind-scan told Iona that the officer had no idea where her passport was so she lied brazenly.
“I already surrendered it to the immigration authorities when I landed yesterday. I must confess, it seemed a bit irregular but I supposed it’s because my passport says female and I arrived piloting my own plane. I think it’s somewhere in the labyrinth of those buildings over there. You’ll have to see the people over there.”
She read his uncertainty and prepared for the next question.
“Would you recognise the immigration officer who collected it?”
Iona wagged her head and shrugged. “Good gracious no, she was wearing a burqa and niqab. I know it was somewhere in that cluster of buildings.”
‘If you’re going to tell a lie tell a good-un.’ She told herself.
She had already experienced the unimaginably complicated rig-ma-role that confronted a private female flyer arriving singly at Jakarta airport so she knew it would take days before this poor pair could finally ascertain what had happened to her passport. She could already detect the despondency settling over the pair as they contemplated what they anticipated would be a drudge through layers and layers of bureaucracy; especially as it involved a moderately unusual arrival of a single, unmarried girl in a cockpit.
The pair left and Iona was at least free to go exploring temples and other attractions in the city.
Sadly, like many tourist traps, Bali had become so commercialised that any hopes of authenticity have been destroyed by the clamour for money and utter disregard for most things cerebral. After a couple of days becoming progressively more disappointed with the city, she decided to make plans for her escape.

Firstly, she decided to check on her operational situation concerning her liberty to depart. To her utter disbelief she discovered, though, indeed she had half expected it; there had been a typical bureaucratic foul up thanks to the oppressive culture and byzantine procedures. There seemed to be no administrative block attached to her flight plan so after some additional telepathic scans, she decided to strike while the iron was hot.
In the early afternoon of the Thursday, she legally advanced her pre-posted flight plan by a couple of hours. A final telepathic scan confirmed that so far, nobody had sought to detain her and took off with a maximum fuel load for the six-hundred-mile flight to Timor.
For the first hour her radio was silent and she maintained a maximum speed to put as much distance as possible between her and Bali. Her other tactic was to fly low and dodge around the islands en-route until or unless somebody noticed her behaviour on their radars and demanded her identity.
Because her plane had previously been fitted with superchargers to enable her to cross over the Himalayas, it could comfortably maintain three hundred knots at the low altitudes between two hundred and two thousand feet. Nevertheless, despite her rapid progress, she still feared being challenged on the radio, or worse, being intercepted by a military aircraft at any moment.
She was starting to get nervous.
Her GPS told her she was halfway across Flores when the radio finally crackled on the international calling frequency. It was a call to identify herself and to advise her that a military aircraft had been sent to escort her to the nearest airfield. She decided to play stupid and took her plane down to two hundred feet before island dodging along the northern coast of Flores, while maintaining radio silence. This tactic bought her another thirty minutes before she eventually found herself about fifty miles east of Riangkami airfield.
‘Only another hundred miles to go’ she concluded as she spotted a heavy rain squall far to the east.
Centimetric Radars detest rain and the heavier the rain, the worse the radar’s performance. Pretty soon Iona was ‘wave skimming’ below the cloud base in about four hundred metres lateral visibility. This made her virtually invisible to any plane flying above her, whether they had radar or not.
If any military jet wanted to find her, they would have to join her at wavetop height. For Iona, flying at slow speeds was safe in a small propeller aircraft but a high-performance fighter jet would have to fly at a much higher speed to avoid falling out of the sky. That speed would be lethally dangerous for both jet and pilot in such restricted visibility and at very low altitude. Iona read his frustration and fear as he was forced to circle at a higher altitude a safe distance from the cumulus column of turbulence.
All he could do was hope to catch Iona emerging from underneath the towering cumulus cloud at wave-top height. His problem was ‘where would Iona emerge’? It was a large cloud and to be certain of catching her he would have to also circle the cloud down at her level. Being forced to operate at higher speeds, at a higher altitude and using circular sweeps caused his surveillance efforts to be intermittent. Iona read the frustration in his mind and she felt a certain satisfaction that so far, her tactics were working.
Knowing the constraints of fast jets when trying to tag a slower, smaller, more manoeuvrable plane, Iona chose to emerge from under cloud base close to Western tip of Lembata where a myriad islets and larger islands combine to make a veritable jigsaw of rocks, forests, mountains and sea cliffs. What made it worse for the fast jet was that several of the islands actually penetrated the cloud base at less than two hundred metres so the searching jet could not risk cutting across under the cloud-base for fear of hitting the sea cliffs.
After reading the pilot’s mind telepathically, Iona realised that if she dropped her speed to the slowest possible velocity commensurate with flight, she could weave between the islands and headlands at fractionally over ninety knots while the jet zoomed overhead at a minimum speed of two hundred knots if he wanted to remain manoeuvrable and safe.
All Iona could hope for was that the cloud extended further east towards Timor. By this time her GPS told her she was only one hundred miles from Timor waters and she was only twenty minutes from safety – that was, provided the Indonesian pilot respected the territorial integrity of Timor.
Then to her chagrin, she noticed an illuminated sea appear to the east and she realised the cloud cover was ending. It looked about ten miles away so that meant there was something approaching eighty miles to the Timor coast less about ten miles of territorial water.
‘Eighty miles or so at three hundred and fifty knots’ She calculated mentally before she made one more telepathic scan. The Indonesian jet was on the opposite side of the huge cloud column and that was about twenty miles across so he would have to travel ten-pi miles plus whatever distance she could put behind her.
‘Well, I might as well chance it’ she concluded as the visibility improved dramatically.
So saying, she dropped again to wavetop height and opened up with full throttle then sighed with relief as her air-speed climbed rapidly to three hundred and fifty knots.
‘Let’s see how alert he is?’ Iona asked herself as her knuckles tightened on the stick and her telepathy scanned his mind for clues.
The answer disappointed her for she learned her pursuer was very alert. He picked her up on his radar almost immediately upon emerging from behind the towering cumulonimbus storm cloud. There was nothing for it but to race for the oceanic air-border between Timor and Indonesia. Her maths told her she would not make it for the fighter jet was easily capable of nine hundred knots while she could only do three-fifty. Her heart sank as she wondered what sort of weapons the jet carried.
Her only hope was to keep scanning his mind as he rapidly gained upon her. She opened the throttles as wide as she dared and her plane howled urgently as she prayed for a miracle and once again scanned the pursuing pilots mind for some tactical flaw or error in his calculations. Her telepathy sensed the tension in his brain but it was several more seconds before she learned what was worrying him. He was low on fuel. Her tactics of dodging under and around the clouds had forced him to fly low and slow where jet engines are least efficient.
His constant circling while searching for a plane that was shrouded by the heavy rain under the clouds and producing very little heat profile from her piston driven propellers, had caused him to lose her on his radar and weapon systems numerous times. As she cleared the last Indonesian Island and headed out over the Timor sea, she took her plane down to wave top level and prayed to good luck that he might run short of fuel and be forced to turn back.
Her hopes fell however when he made one last radio demand for her to turn around or he would open fire.
Mentally, she said goodbye to her children wherever they were, and braced herself for a rocket strike or a hail of gunfire. The jet pilot remained true to his threat and suddenly Iona felt a violent thump as the tip of her starboard wing disintegrated. She swerved to starboard and almost dipped the damaged wingtip into the sea as she frantically dodged the menace that swept past her with a thundering roar.
For a fraction of a second her view was filled with jet and then her plane bucked and tossed in the jets wake. She hauled back on the stick and clawed for some height because the pitching had almost dumped her in the sea. Already, the plane was turning for a second approach and Iona watched mesmerised before her brain returned to functionality. She watched fearfully while debating which tactic would best help her avoid another shooting. She concluded the best chance was to fly straight towards the jet provided it remained south of her position and she approached the territorial water border of Timor.
The jet sped around in a large arc thus forcing Iona to cancel her tactic of pointing at the jet. Her primary objective was to continue to make southing. As he continued around her in a huge arc, she debated using her telepathic punch to disable him. For the immediate moment, she decided to hold off with the telepathy, for the idea of destroying yet another human life had become abhorrent to her.
Like a pidgeon dashing to make the safety of the woods while the falcon kept stooping from above, she thrashed her engines desperately while constantly checking her GPS. Then she sensed he was preparing to make another attack. In response, she sent a mild telepathic jolt through the ether and watched with relief as the jet suddenly jinked just as the bullets erupted from its cannons. Coincidentally she pulled hard on her stick to take avoiding action causing the bullets to thump through her fuselage and tail-plane.
‘You bastard!’ She cursed to herself, ‘You really meant that you bastard!’ Try that again and I’ll kill you!”
She craned her neck to try and assess the damage and prayed again that no controls had been damaged. A rapid control check reassured her that seemingly, she still had control and she swallowed fearfully as the jet screamed past again.
It was so close she could fleetingly make out the pilot as he swept past but she had no time to contemplate his intentions. Then to her relief, her GPS sounded its alert to tell her she had crossed into Timorese air space. Now she could put out a mayday and declare she was being attacked by an Indonesian jet. She followed this up with another telepathic scan of the pilot’s mind and then sagged with relief to learn he was too low on fuel to continue the pursuit. Her last search of the sky told her that her pursuer had turned for home, he was obviously not going to invade Timorese airspace so she decided there was no need to put out a distress call. She relaxed her telepathy only to be shocked as a missile skimmed just yards from her plane and shot ahead of her before exploding into the sea. The Indonesian had risked a parting shot but it had missed her. It had not been a harmless shot, however. Debris from the missile had cracked her windscreen and punctured her wing.
Desperately, she eased back the throttle to an easy one hundred and fifty knots before checking the wing for any serious structural damage or fuel tank perforations. Thankfully, she could see no further damage and her controls seemed to be working satisfactorily so she set a slow course for Dili. Then she had to ease back the starboard engine because she noticed some slight vibration in the damaged wing.
Her knuckles were white as she found herself gripping the stick in fear and for a moment she missed the call on the international distress frequency.
“Aircraft approaching Timor from the North West at low altitude, please identify yourself.”
Iona recognised an Australian accent and felt a huge lump of relief fall of her shoulders as she grabbed for the radio. She called out her call sign and reported her position. The voice replied.
“Yes, we’ve got you on radar. Are you heading for Dili?”
“Yes”, she replied. “I have filed a flight plan and it was cleared with Timor air traffic at 2100 yesterday.”
There was a long pause while the voice was obviously checking her credentials before it returned to air.
“You’re twenty-four hours early. We have just detected what appeared to be a missile strike. Are you carrying weapons?”
“No, I’m a twin Engined private propeller craft. I’ve reported my call sign and flight number.”
She repeated both for good measure then added.
“I have just been targeted by a military jet while leaving Indonesian air space.”
“D’ you want an escort?”
“That would be nice I can only do one-fifty knots, there’s damage to my wing and fuselage.”
Even as she finished, there was a roar as two Australian F16’s swooped by and checked her over.
” Can you go any faster? We’re having to circle you.”
“I don’t think so, there’s a lot of vibration though my fuel seems okay. I’m only fifteen minutes out now.”
“Okay, we’ll escort you to the coast then you’ll be okay.”

As she crossed the coastline she thanked the Australians and contacted Dili air-traffic-control. Ten minutes later she was landed and safe in a remote corner of the apron. Twenty minutes later she was being interviewed by the Timorese police and the Australian air-force.
After answering every question she could, the interviewers finally stood and nodded acceptance of her report. The air force wing commander escorted her to a small air force mess by their own military hangar where Iona’s plane had been parked.
“You’ve been a lucky lady Miss Evans,” the Immigration officer confided. “Those two Australian planes only patrol for a couple of hours every day and at irregular times. Obviously that Indonesian pilot decided it was not worth the risk invading our airspace with two F16’s hanging around.”
“I didn’t know the political situation was still that tense,” Iona confessed, “but thank your pilots for me sir, there’s no knowing what might have ensued. He was determined to shoot me down.”
“Yes indeed Miss Evans, your plane bears witness to that. Five bullet strikes and shrapnel from an exploding missile. You were seriously lucky to get out alive. You say you were going to Australia?”
“Am going to Australia. As soon as my plane’s fixed.”
“That could take some time. Spare parts and the like, plus the body work repairs.”
“The bullet holes will just need patches until I can get to a proper facility in Aus’ The main problem is the damaged wing. Though I still have not assessed any possible damage to control systems yet. She landed satisfactorily and there don’t appear to be any fuel or hydraulic leaks. The cockpit canopy glass of course, that’s a biggie but I can ship one out from the nearest supplier. There must be one in Aus’, everybody seems to fly out there.”
“Yeah, Cessna’s are pretty common down under. Our facilities can help with the bodywork but the cockpit window is the biggie. God knows how long that’ll take. Could be a couple of weeks, could be a month. Are you going to file a protest to the Indonesians?”
Iona was keen to avoid too much publicity and draw too much attention to herself. She knew the British authorities had more-or-less given up on finding her what with her changed name and two passport subterfuge.
Her trail had gone cold and she meant to keep it cold. The less publicity, the better. She wagged her head before replying.
“No, I don’t think I will. The less fuss, the better my chances of flying back via the East Indies. Their governance is a shambles so I’ll get lost in their labyrinthine bureaucracy within a few months. Failing that, I’ll return to Asia and Europe via New Guinea, the Philippines and Japan.”
“Well, enjoy your stay in Dili, there’s not a lot to do but you’ll be welcome in the air force mess. It’s always nice to see a new face.”
They shared some mugs of coffee then Iona left to organise a hotel.
The ‘couple of weeks to a month’ stretched to two months but it enabled her to recharge her batteries and the Australian air-force proved to be good hosts.

Chapter 10
Finally down under.

Iona’s unscheduled lay over in Dili caused her little grief. Most of the time she visited museums, temples and churches in-between sunbathing. While lounging on the beaches she used her time effectively by mugging up on Native art and its religious connections to Australian aboriginal, spiritual art. At other times she enjoyed the hospitality of the Australian air-force facilities where she was immensely pleased with their helpfulness and made sure she tipped the fitters generously for the excellent repairs. Indeed the damage repairs were of such high quality nobody would have realised the skin had been repaired unless they checked it over with a professional eye. Eventually the new cockpit canopy arrived and within a few days, she was ready and fit to fly. Amidst a flurry of well wishing, she took off in the mid-morning into a clear blue sky.
‘Hello, Darwin and Aussie! Here comes Iona!’ She giggled to herself. ‘Let’s just see what ‘The dream times’ is all about.’
She settled comfortably into her seat and set her speed for two hundred knots. This would give her a nice comfortable flight of about two hours and she radioed Darwin to advise of her ETA. Being in no particular hurry, she settled down to five hundred feet and watched the wakes of various ships, mostly fishing craft, busy on the ocean below. Then the smaller craft petered out and the ocean surface became empty.
She was nibbling on a ‘Snicker’ bar when a distress flare caught her attention. It ascended to a height level with her port wing then erupted as it floated back to earth.
‘Damn.’ She muttered under her breath. ‘I suppose I’d better go and see. Probably more refugees trying to get into Aus.’
She soon spotted an overloaded boat lying stopped and low in the water so she made several low passes. The occupants didn’t seem in very good shape so she relayed a mayday and advised an Australian patrol ship about the situation. She passed what information she could then resumed her course for Darwin.
Early afternoon found her entered through immigration and customs followed by some intensive interrogation about her experiences in Bali and subsequent flights to Timor and Australia.
Her telepathy told her that the Australian authorities suspected she might be drug-running because of the issues leaving Bali but their tests found no trace because she was truly clean. Iona’s telepathic brain reacted very unfavourably to drugs and she had avoided psychosomatic drugs all her life.
Having cleared the border formalities, Iona was at long last free to commence her searches. As a disguise for her searches, she made pretence of following all the usual tourist activities and her first step was to hire a four-by-four to get some experience of the ‘outback’. With experience born of years of travel, she equipped herself appropriately and was soon heading to the Queensland Arnhemland rainforest. Several days of rugged driving followed by a day’s trekking through some of the remotest forests of northern Queensland eventually brought her to a large cave in a deep, hidden gorge well off the beaten track. At the base of the cliff a clear freshwater spring drained into a creek further down the heavily wooded valley. It was an ideal camp site.
It was perfect location because an intense telepathic scan proved that there were no sentient beings for several tens of miles. Happy with her discovery, she decided to make camp.
Her needs were simple. A rugged weatherproof sleeping bag, a couple of small cooking pans, a single tin plate and a couple of knives. Her only nod to modernity was a flip-top lighter, a torch and her GPS mobile phone.
Having established her isolation she next explored the area and was excited to discover some aboriginal paintings well-hidden and protected from the weather in another cleft of the rock separated from the cave by a large buttress hidden behind dense vegetation. The hidden cave paintings confirmed that the site, although remote and seemingly un-trespassed, obviously had some spiritual significance to some local aboriginal persons or tribe because the paintings showed signs of occasional maintenance and attention even though it was obviously rarely visited.
Previous preparatory researches in the Dili museum informed Iona that although these paintings were mostly animalistic, the underlying theme was deeply associated with the movements of the heavens. She recognised several of the Aboriginal animal associations with the constellations.
This pleased her immensely. She reasoned that the stellar movements were closely associated with time and that implied connections to ‘The dream times’, though she had not had the time in Dili to determine the precise ‘folk-lore and or religious Aboriginal connections
This being Northern Queensland, she reasoned that it might be associated with the earliest dream times of the aborigines because the peninsular was the closest and easiest land and sea bridge that enabled the stone-age arrival of the aboriginal peoples some several tens of thousands of years ago.
Having discovered the paintings, she set about bivouacking for the night and chose a dry spot well back under deep overhang where any smoke from her fire would not harm any cave paintings. Then she prepared a rudimentary ‘bush-bower’ where she could sleep with little likelihood of any unwanted night guests invading her bed. Finally she closed the insect net that framed her sleeping bag and fell asleep.

The dawn break woke her, or more correctly, the Australian equivalent of the dawn chorus. Having remembered where she was, she made a brief telepathic scan to ascertain her chosen isolation then she lay back for long moments savouring bird calls and other sounds she had only ever heard on nature documentaries. Eventually a call of nature forced her out of her comfortable bed and she clambered out naked to attend it. A short dip in the tiny brook completed her ablutions and she finally killed a small furry denizen with a telepathic punch prior to skinning it, cooking it and eating it.
Thus prepared for the day she returned to the cave paintings and settled down in front of them to enter a trance in the hope of somehow making some sort of connection. She had no idea what to do or how to begin.
Her efforts proved patchy. Firstly, she had difficulty entering a trance because the uncertainty interrupted her concentration. Secondly the aura around the site seemed unsettled and she felt a distinct sense of negativity surrounding her actually being there, in what was obviously a very private location, resembling a family tomb.
There did not seem to be any gateways or portals to any spirit world or at least none that seemed prepared to open for her. Her usual techniques that had proven to work on many previous occasions, had always managed to prise open some sort of ethereal openings in what had usually presented as some sort of dark obsidian mass. The mass she had always come to think of as the barrier between the living world and whatever lay beyond.
This time as she sat in a lotus position of intentional respect, the expected blackness simply refused to settle. Instead, it seemed to somehow sweep in bands of weak insipid colours rather like the Aurora Borealis except that instead of sweeping in huge swathes across the sky, the colour spans seemed to extend no further than her outstretched fingers whilst refusing to respond to her beseechments and just dancing tantalisingly close as though taunting her to somehow make the connection she thought they might be offering.
This experience was nothing like any ‘crossing’ she had made before and she eventually slumped exhausted as her trance went black and she lost all awareness spiritual or carnal. She awoke to find the sun setting and a wild dingo sniffing at the remains of her breakfast.
She wasn’t sure if the shiver that pervaded her body was the cool of the evening or fear from the proximity of the dingo. As she raised her head from the sand carefully so as not to frighten the animal, she watched it tense and curl it’s lip.
She remained poised on her elbow as further study of the animal confirmed it was a female and it looked as though it was suckling pups. On noticing the ribs showing through its fur she decided to try a telepathic scan.
She had often scanned animal’s brains and found almost inevitably that what might be construed as thought or sentience usually concerned, hunger, danger or reproduction.
‘Like many homo-sapiens’, she grinned to herself ruefully, as she determined bitch was extremely hungry. Iona watched as it finally finished crunching the carcass before starting to lick it’s rear paw. Only then, did Iona spot the wound to its heel. The cut looked about three or four days old and that to Iona explained why the animal was only beginning to appear malnourished. She tried talking softly.
“Hungry, are you girl?”
The dingo lowered its head nervously as it stood to watch her. Iona could see clearly that the animal was in no fit state to attack her for the rear leg was obviously too damaged to enable an attacking leap. Instead, the animal limped back a couple of paces and settled again on the sand near the little brook. Iona stayed still and watched as it shuffled painfully forward and took a drink from the clear water. Still Iona stayed back but she brought herself to a sitting position so that both hands were free. Her second scan of the dingo’s brain only confirmed uncertainty and a little fear. She spoke again softly.
“So what now Mrs Dingo? Are we just going to sit all night looking at each other?”
The dingo just turned towards the direction of her voice and did not move while attending to the wounded leg again. Iona weighed up what to do and decided to cautiously move away then kill another creature for her pot.
‘Perhaps she might kill a bigger animal’ she thought, ‘and share it with the bitch.’ After all hunting for Iona was the easiest task she faced. She simply had to locate an animal by telepathy, then kill it with a single, clean, telepathic blast.
She decided to search further afield and perhaps find a larger animal like a wallaby or even a kangaroo, though she did not hold out hopes of a ‘roo’ in the Queensland tropical rainforest. Cautiously, she rose slowly to her feet and backed away as the dingo tensed and snarled nervously again.
It got clumsily to its feet and took what was obviously a defensive stance as Iona steadily retreated while still facing it until she was at the edge of the little clearing, then she turned and walked away in search of something edible.
She had been walking silently and scanning telepathically when her mind detected a sense of animalistic tension amongst some dense trees and shrubs to her left. She froze and waited for several seconds before a soft noise like a very low thrumming resumed its eruptions within the bushes. Iona had no idea what animal it was but she knew that Australia had no large dangerous animals except crocodiles and she was a long way from the water.
Suddenly the bushes shook violently and two huge Cassowaries exploded from the bushes in a frenzied fight. Iona hesitated before realising they had no interest in her for it was two cock birds obviously in some sort of contest, ‘probably for females’ or territory, Iona concluded. She slowly withdrew out of obvious site and watched with a genuine interest to see if the loser would be too wounded to survive. She could not believe how furious and lethal the birds were, nor how vicious their spurs were. She was glad she was behind the tree.
Finally the fight was over, and as she expected; the loser lay fatally hurt beside a thick bush. It was quite obviously dying for its throat had been torn open and its head almost severed. Iona stepped forward after checking that the victor had left to claim his prize then she checked over the loser. It died even as she turned its head over to inspect the wound. Iona had found her food for the next few days so she flung the still twitching carcass over her shoulder and returned to her camp.
The dingo was still snoozing in the shade of the rocks but it sat up to look speculatively at Iona as she approached. It’s nose twitched appreciatively as it struggled to its feet. Iona made it abundantly apparent that the dingo was not going to take her prize. As it approached with its lips curled and snarling softly in its endeavours to gain dominance, but Iona released a telepathic punch that caused the animal to yelp in fear and fall over. She followed up her punch with a harsh low curse to reinforce her intentions.
The dingo would only get what she offered. While the dingo lay disabled she checked over the wounded leg and determined that no bones seemed to be broken, it was just a deep cut. She washed the leg then left the animal in peace while she plucked the Cassowary then lit a fire.
It was obvious that her cooking pan would only take small pieces at a time so she had to find a way to keep the dingo away from her kill. The dark fissure deeper under the rock where the spring emerged, seemed to offer the best opportunity for it was cooler. After fashioning a branch into a hook, she jammed it in a cleft high up the rock and hung the bird out of reach. She hoped to get a couple of days food off the carcass before it became inedible. This done she cooked a considerable portion and offered the dingo a satisfactory portion of the offal, the intestines, lungs and heart. The dingo limped forward and sniffed the offering before snatching it up and devouring it ravenously. It was back hoping for more before Iona had finished her first cut. She threw it a couple of tasty morsels then finished the remains of what she had cooked. It seemed she had enough food for two to three days provided it didn’t go off.
The dog seemed to realise it was getting no more that day so it limped into the shade of the rock while Iona returned to the cave drawings. This time she stared at the animals that she knew to be representations of the constellations and concentrated on their import. Finally she had her first inkling of meaning when the ‘Southern Cross constellation ascended slowly above the hills in the east and she recognised the animalistic representation on the wall. The layout of the wall images exactly replicated each constellation as it arose in succession over a distinct cleft in the distant hills. Some of the animals related to the constellations she recognised, others she didn’t. Her knowledge of aboriginal folk-lore was patchy.
Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, realised that the paintings on the wall, the stars in the sky and the hills being the earth, combined to provide a guide to identity, orientation, location and stability for any dream traveller who chose to visit that location.
Having confirmed that the campsite was obviously some sort of holy location associated with ‘dream-travel,’ she briefly wondered what force or entity had somehow guided her to it. Finding no answer to that question, she put those thoughts aside and savoured a visceral thrill that permeated her entire being as she sensed she had at least completed the first step towards the first barrier.
Armed with the insight concerning the stars, paintings and the earth, she made herself comfortable and prepared to start her first endeavour into either the dream time or the dream place.
She knew not whether the old familiar landmarks of her previous sojourns with the old Native American seer ‘He That Sees’, would appear to guide her or whether the markers would be completely different. She knew already from her first brief attempt that black was not the dominant colour of ‘the wall’. The shimmering shades of her internalised ‘Aurora Telepathia’ had already disavowed her of those expectations as she settled into her familiar ‘lotus’ position.
In a short time she was entranced and seemingly flying along illuminated astral lay-lines towards- she knew not what. This weird experience soon abated and she found herself motionless in a limbo of half-light but in complete silence.
‘I’d better not talk or ask questions’, she told herself as the oppressive silence persisted. She was disappointed that nothing more seemed to come of her arrival as she waited patiently for any signs or action. Eventually she concluded nothing more was to be gained so she elected to return whence she’d come. It was dusk when she emerged from her trance but the incongruous time shift did not surprise her on return; however the pair of pups suckling at the dingo’s tits did.
Iona frowned as she considered the idea of ‘two-more-mouths-to-feed’ but decided that the feeding would not be her problem. All she had to do was hunt for more food and cook her own. The dingo could eat its portions raw. To this end, she cut some meat off the cassowary carcass threw some to the dingo bitch and proceeded to cook her own. As the sun set, she burrowed into her sleeping bag after checking for critters and in its cosy embrace, she contemplated her first forays into dream time.
Progress had been slow but she had expected that. She had no aboriginal guide so it had to be small steps slowly. She was not seeking anybody on ‘the-other-side’ this time so there was no urgency; she was simply exploring other methods and avenues of telepathy. Though she was not sure of her motives, the lack of direction and purpose served to set her at ease. She fell into a deep sleep and was only awoken by the dingo bitch’s frenzied growling and barking.
Grabbing her torch, she illuminated the bitch snarling and barking furiously at a python trying to steal the cassowary carcass. Angry at the attempted theft, she released a telepathic blast and stunned the invader before grabbing a large rock and crushing the unconscious python’s scull. A brief check on the hanging cassowary carcass revealed all was well so she turned to the dingo bitch that stood tensely expectant.
“Thanks for the warning lady, go on girl, you can have it. Put some flesh on your bones.
So saying, she grabbed the snake and dragged it towards the dingo that immediately realised Iona’s intention. It started ripping ravenously into the snake while Iona returned to her sleeping bag.
When the dawn awoke her, she grinned to herself when she saw the dingo bitch and both cubs fast asleep with the half-eaten snake jammed between the bitch and the cliff base. Obviously she was protecting her precious find. It woke eventually to the smell of Iona’s cooking and it whined hopefully.
“Don’t be greedy,” Iona scolded the bitch affectionately.
The dingo’s tail wagged a couple of times and it didn’t flinch when Iona stepped past it to take a wash in the brook. Instead she continued licking her cubs while her eyes followed the naked Iona to the brook.
This time, having established by then, that the tiny brook was too small to harbour any serious dangers, she slipped cautiously into the little pool and indulged herself with a hurried bath, the water, having just emerged from the spring was still cold. Iona decided that in future, she would bathe in the evenings when the sun had warmed the rocks and the water might be a bit warmed if she diverted it over the extensive flat rock that lay beside the brook.
With a belly full of cassowary she set about creating a simple spillway and dam to divert the water across the flat rock when evening came. Satisfied with her efforts and still savouring her nudity, she chose to try another attempt at ‘dream-journeying’ in the mid-afternoon. This time she was pleased to pass beyond the half-illuminated limbo and intrigued to see what seemed to be vague figures dancing in some sort of shimmering aura. Her efforts to reach the figures failed and she concluded ruefully that either she was not yet ready to join with them, or they were not yet prepared to accept or acknowledge her.
Disappointed with her failure and still yet happy to have progressed a bit further, she emerged from her trance and cooked some more of the cassowary. Her nose told her there was only another day’s food and then the remains would be inedible. Tomorrow she would eat her last meal then go hunting again.
After filling her belly she set about diverting the brook to spill over the sunlit rock that was too hot to sit on. Once she had the system set up correctly, she slid gratefully into the tepid pool. Where the water spilled off the rock into the pool, it was actually quite warm and she savoured the sheer luxury of thoroughly washing her hair.
As the delightfully warm water splashed off the rock, the dingo bitch let out a low growl that alerted Iona to danger. Being naked in a brook was certainly not the best position for a transsexual with breasts but while her telepathic scan had ascertained a human approaching, she had not yet determined where that human was. Even searching through the visitor’s eyes only told Iona that the individual was picking her way through some dense vegetation. She realised it might not be safe to emerge from the pool naked until she had determined the individuals identity and nature, Iona crouched down with only her head exposed above the brook. Under the shelf of rock, the rivulet of warm water splashing onto her pure white hair resembled a splash of crystal-clear water on a smooth pale rock and this served to camouflage Iona’s exposed head.
Eventually her telepathic scan alerted Iona that the approaching threat was just a single aborigine. More importantly, Iona was mildly intrigued to learn that the individual was female.
‘Now that’s unusual’, Iona told herself ‘usually it was the men who went ‘walkabout’ and yet here was a young woman in her mid-teens, definitely alone.
Iona decided to ‘wait-and-see’ from her hidden position.
Eventually, the girl-woman emerged from the trees and hesitated as she noticed the makings of Iona’s camp. Then she froze as she faced the dingo bitch that was obviously unhappy with the girl’s approach. Iona could read the fear in the girl’s mind as she stood not daring to antagonise the animal. As the impasse continued, Iona decided to scan the girl’s intentions and she quickly discerned that the girl was the only remaining pureblood child of the clan that held this site sacred.
She had come simply to check that the site was in order but the evidence of some sort of seemingly white-man occupancy was distressing her. Iona could discern that the girl was now frightened on two counts, the Dingo bitch with cubs and the anticipated presence of one or more white Australians. The girl had simply wanted to inspect and check the hidden rock paintings on the other side of the buttress but now she was afraid on both counts.
She was a girl alone in a remote place with other unknown people nearby whilst her more immediate danger was the possibility of her annoying the growling dingo. Furthermore she did not want to inadvertently reveal the shrine to whomsoever had made camp under the cliff.
Having learned enough of the young woman and her dilemma, Iona decided to send a telepathic message to the girl who was petrified of the dingo.
‘She won’t harm you. Just go past her and check your tribal shrine.’
The young woman’s face contorted in terror as she struggled to suppress the shriek that was erupting in her throat. Iona knew she had to intervene quickly with a second message.
‘You are in NO danger. Just walk past the dingo and go to your shrine. No harm will befall you.’
The girl was now desperately searching for the manifestation of some spirit or ‘bunyip’ but seeing none, she stepped tentatively to bypass the dingo. Iona gave her more encouragement.
‘Go on, she won’t bite you. Check your shrine then return here to me. NO harm will come to you.’
Seeing that the dingo had not moved, the young woman reasoned that whatever spirit was reaching out to her did not intend harm. Sprits had no reasons to lie, they were all powerful. Realising this, she took the invisible spirit voice at its word and carefully eased past the dingo. Once past the animal, the girl paused uncertainly in front of the rocky buttress, scanned the area for she knew not what, then clutched her tucker bag tightly as she located the hidden cleft and slipped easily behind the vegetation to disappear from sight. Iona took the opportunity to emerge from the little pool and slip on her knickers.
Her telepathy told her that the girl, now deeming herself safe from prying eyes; had stripped off her clothes then painted herself in white ash-paste from her ‘tucker-bag’. Next she commenced a ritualistic address to her tribal fore-fathers. Telepathy further told Iona that the girl’s intentions were the same as those of other tribal native peoples like ‘He-that-sees’. All that differed was the ‘nodding-and-bobbing’. To Iona’s slight disappointment, the girl did not seem to be entering into a dream time, leastways, not as Iona had deemed it to be. All she seemed to be doing was offering up apologies to the fore-bearers for the state of the clan and the lack of children to take the clan forward. Iona could read the immense disappointment and sense of loss in the girl’s heart and mind.
As always, emotions intensified with telepathy and Iona felt an overwhelming sadness for the girl. While the girl continued lamenting the state of her clan, Iona re-lit the camp-fire and cooked the last edible vestiges of the Cassowary. The smell of cooking meat suddenly alerted the girl to the second danger of the unknown camper or campers and she fell silent as she crawled to the covered entrance of the secret cleft in the buttress. Lying flat on her belly she peered out from behind the vegetation. On spotting what was obviously a small white girl wearing only skimpy panties and attending to the re-lit campfire, the aboriginal girl stretched further to try and make sure nobody else was about.
Following her every move by telepathy, Iona waited until the girl was almost totally emerged from the vegetation then she just turned quickly to reach for some more firewood. This action enabled Iona to stare directly into the girl’s face. The aboriginal girl froze more with uncertainty than fear until her sense of propriety emboldened her. She stood up and demanded of the smaller white girl.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Camping,” replied Iona disingenuously. “Who are you?”
“These are the shrines of my clan. You have desecrated them.”
“I have not,” Iona countered. “The smoke from my fire has not disfigured the symbols on the walls and besides, these symbols are unimportant,” (Iona swept her hand around the overhang.) The important symbols are those where you have just come from inside that rocky buttress. Where you worshipping in there?”
The girls eyes flickered momentarily with resentment.
“These are my clan’s symbols; I have every right to visit here. You do not!”
“Why not?” Iona asked
“You desecrate them by showing no respect.”
“How do you know I have not shown respect?” Iona pressed.
“You will not have known the ways.”
“How do you know?” Challenged Iona.
“You are not of our clan, not of our tribe.”
“But I can still show respect. Maybe not with your clan signs but there are universal signs of respect known to all.”
“All of us, yes. But you are not of us.”
For an answer, Iona walked up to the buttress, ducked under the vegetation and stood by the sacred images. The aboriginal girl hurried after her anticipating some sort of sabotage or defacement, instead she found Iona standing respectfully with her hand placed upon a bright red hand located discreetly in a hollow depression low in the shaded corner of the rock-face. The girl had not noticed the additional symbol earlier because it was not obvious and not impinging on the spiritual or heavenly significance of the main figures. Hidden away in a discreet corner, the red hand was a demonstrably a universally neutral symbol with no clan significance. Just the sort of symbol that a friendly aboriginal stranger would have placed to show awareness and respect.
The young aboriginal girl stared at Iona’s gesture and recognised it’s intent. The red hand in the hollow exactly matched Iona’s hand which clearly demonstrated that the white visitor had placed the symbol. More importantly, the white girl had used red blood and this was an act of huge portent. The stranger clearly wished to communicate with somebody, anybody; and the young aborigine recognised this. Her demeanour changed instantly from confrontation to inquiry.
“Did you use the blood of that cassowary to make your sign?”
“Yes.”
“Is the cassowary your spirit?”
“No.”
“Then why did you kill it?”
“I didn’t. It died fighting another cassowary. I simply cooked it to eat it.”
The girl’s face grimaced with disgust.
“What! You eat carrion?”
“It was fresh. It actually died as I was carrying it back to camp. The wounds from its fight killed it.”
The girl nodded acceptance then changed the subject.
“So, why have you come here, why to our clan shrine?”
“I didn’t come specifically for this shrine, I was just trekking through the forest and happened upon it. When I realised it was a spiritual place, I decided to stay a while.”
“Alone?” The girl asked.
“Alone,” Iona confirmed.
“White people don’t usually believe in our spirits. They laugh at us.” The girl accused.
“Spirits can be wherever you find them,” Iona countered then asked. “Are you here to go dreaming?”
“No. I’m here to see that the shrine is okay and our clan spirit is respected. In our clan, a girl is not encouraged to try dreaming until she has become a mother.”
Iona nodded her understanding and the girl’s face frowned. Even under the white ash, Iona could read the distress. She used another telepathic probe and learned that the girl was looking for a mate but had not found a suitable candidate yet. She decided to risk a question.
“You have risked a lot to travel here alone. Were you seeking something else at your shrine as well?”
The girl nodded but refused to offer any further information. Iona persisted.
“Are you trying to ‘walk-about’?”
The girl hesitated then replied nervously.
“Girls aren’t supposed to go walk-about, even mothers don’t. Mostly adult men do it and sometimes older boys.”
Iona nodded before replying. “Yes, that’s what I thought. Should not a man be maintaining your clan shrine, or at least a group for their safety if it’s girls?”
“There is nobody left of our clan who can do this. There is only me and some of the old people. The young ones leave for the city or take up white-men’s ways.”
Iona nodded thoughtfully.
“Are you the last of your clan then?”
“The last whole one, the last dreamer. When my mother and my aunt die I’ll be the last. My father died before.”
Iona knew that aborigines had a different sense of time so the word ‘before’ could mean lots of things. She didn’t press further but now the girl was curious.
“Why are you walking alone? Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”
“Yes,” Iona agreed, “that’s why I take precautions. D ’you want the last of this meat.”
The girl nodded and took the proffered slice of cassowary breast. As she swallowed the first mouthful she realised she had not yet even exchanged names and yet they had shared food, broken bread.
“What is your name?”
“Iona, what’s yours?”
“Mary.”
“Don’t you have an aboriginal name?”
“Yes.”
Iona raised an eyebrow questioningly and the girl eventually responded.
“I should not tell a stranger but we have shared food, my proper name is Pangarie.”
“Meaning soulful,” Iona observed.
The girls eyes widened.
“Do you speak our tongues as well?”
“Not a lot but I learn quickly.”
“Well it actually translates more accurately to mean ‘of the soul’. Do you know what your name ‘Iona’ means in my language?”
Iona wagged her head and the girl rapped her knuckles on the tree.
“It means this, it means tree.”
Iona shrugged and grinned before replying.
“Pretty commonplace then.”
Pangarie nodded then motioned to the Dingo bitch who had taken the stripped cassowary carcass and demolished it in a few gulps.
“Is she yours? She seems tame.”
“No. She’s wild as far as I know but she likes free meat.”
“You can afford to waste good meat on a wild dingo? Are you a hunter?”
Iona shrugged and replied non-commitedly.
“Not normally, but out here, needs must.”
Pangarie studied the dingo then observed insightfully.
“And her needs as well?”
“She’s hurt her rear paw, she couldn’t hunt.”
Pangarie frowned.
“Are you trying to make a pet of her?”
“No, when she’s ready, I expect she’ll go – cubs and all.)
“You could make a pet of one of the cubs. I’d like to have one.”
“You’d have to ask her. They’re not my cubs.”
“If you feed her long enough, she’ll attach herself to you, you know that don’t you. They’re not like wolves, they were originally domesticated dogs.”
“If she does, it’ll be her choice, not mine. I travel light”
“So I see. How long do ‘you intend staying here?”
“I don’t know.”
Pangarie glanced around the fireside.
“You can’t just live on meat alone, what fruit are you eating.”
“None. I don’t know what’s edible and what’s poisonous.”
“I can teach you if you let me have one of her cubs.”
“I’ve told you, they’re not my cubs. Besides, they’re not weaned yet.”
“If you stay here much longer, they will be.”
“Well how long did you intend staying?” Iona asked.
“Only a few days, but if I wait long enough and give it food, I might get it to stay with me. If the big one allows me to approach it.”
Iona was giving very little away at this stage. So far, the nearest the adult bitch had come was to snatch some cassowary skin from her outstretched fingers. However that had only taken three days so there was hope yet of a closer attachment.
Pangarie looked around the dwindling fire and remarked.
“You’ll need more food by tomorrow morning.”
Iona nodded unconcernedly then added.
“I’ll get some meat, while you find some berries or roots or something.”
Pangarie grinned as she declared.
“With my people it’s usually the men that hunt for meat, we girls usually dig out grubs and roots, or berries if we find a suitable tree. This time of year is a bit early for most fruit but I think I know of a tree that’ll be fruiting over across the big creek.”
“Would there be any crocs in that creek?” Iona asked.
“Possibly some freshies, but no salties, we’re over forty miles from the nearest salt-water and the creek plunges over a couple of rocky escarpments.
We’ve always considered the stream fairly safe. Freshies are too small to bother adult humans but they might try their luck with a little-un. We might as well gather some more wood before it gets dark,” Pangarie suggested.
Iona agreed and soon they had a good store of wood drying under the cliff ridge. Whilst disturbing the wood, Pangarie also discovered several fat grubs. She offered one to Iona who tried it after washing it and cooking it.
“Mmm! These aren’t bad,” Iona declared.
Pangarie nodded then simply ate hers raw. Iona watched her then asked.
“Are these those famous Wichita grubs?”
“No,” Pangarie replied, “those are found across on the other side. These are another sort and they are tastier”
Iona presumed that Pangarie was referring to land ‘across’ the Gulf of Capentaria and she had to admit, the grubs tasted really good. Pangarie watched her savouring a second grub and the young woman smiled.
“You should try one raw, they taste better.”
“Uuuh, these are fine,” replied Iona, “perhaps tomorrow.”
Pangarie added some more wood to the fire and made preparations for bed. Seeing her do this, Iona took her sleeping bag from her pack and rolled it out. Pangarie’s eyes widened hopefully.
“Does that open out?” Can two of us use it?”
Iona hesitated. It was a single bag with no long side-opening zip. This was to ensure it remained insect proof. Both of them might be small enough to squeeze into it but Pangarie still didn’t know that Iona was anatomically a male. Iona was in a quandary. It would be churlish to refuse the girl the shared comfort and warmth of the bag but what of the shock of her possibly learning of Iona’s condition.
She scanned Pangarie’s mind telepathically to determine what sort of attitudes she might have to Iona declaring her masculinity. Having ascertained Pangarie’s innocence surround most matters sexual, she cautiously revealed the problem.
“Uuuhm, there could be a problem if we share. If you are prepared to face that problem then we might be able to share the bag, but it will be a tight fit.”
“I don’t mind. Our peoples have cuddled together for thousands of years. It’s the natural way to keep warm.”
“Yes, I know,” Iona agreed, “but this would be different.”
She hesitated whilst double checking Pangarie’s mind-set. Pangarie frowned uncertainly, thinking she had somehow offended Iona. Iona moved quickly to reassure the girl.
“No, it’s not about you being aborigine and me being white, it goes much deeper than that. I must tell you about me.”
“Go-oo on,” Pangarie replied uncertainly.
“Well, the truth is, I’m not a girl. I may look like a girl and behave like a girl, especially with these,” she cupped her naked breasts, “but down there, I’m actually a boy. Your people might think it wrong for you to sleep cuddled up to a man.”
Pangarie’s eyes glittered with anxiety, she wanted to be angry at Iona’s seeming deception but as she reflected silently, the small, slightly-built, white woman she saw before her had not, at any time, behaved like a man, - no sly glances or unwanted remarks, no uninvited touches; in fact the white girl had behaved impeccably. Nevertheless, Iona’s revelation changed everything. It was Pangarie’s turn to be in a quandary. From where she sat beside the embers, she felt almost guilty as her eyes were drawn up irresistibly to the ‘vee’ of Iona’s clearly feminine panties. There was hardly any sign of anything masculine unless you bent forward and actually peered closely up at the slender gusset of the panties.
“Are you sure? I can’t see anything.”
Iona’s eyes rolled slightly, partly with anger, partly with anxiety, and partly with impatience. She turned her face away to hide her annoyance before replying.
“Of course I’m sure, surely you don’t expect me to have to make some rude display.”
Pangarie’s eyes still stared fixatedly on the pertinent area as she shook her head disbelievingly.
“But there’s nothing there. Your panties look just like mine – you know just the mons. There’s no proof, leastways, not from where I’m sitting.”
Iona sighed patiently.
“Look, I’m going to take a bath before turning in, the rock is still quite warm so the water will not be too cold. If you turn away, I’ll get in the pool and you can look from the bank. That way, there won’t be any threat. I’ll put my panties back on after bathing and you won’t be embarrassed or shamed or whatever. By the way, if you decide you still want to share the bag, you’ll have to rinse off all that ash stuff as well.”
Pangarie nodded consent and Iona stepped out of her panties before lowering herself slowly into the pool. For a few minutes, she rinsed everything but her hair then called to Pangarie who was no standing on the bank with her interest concentrated on Iona’s pertinent bits.
“D ’you mind, I want to get out now.”
“Do you mind if I join you, you can wash the white-ash off my back and stuff?”
“What, you mean join me here in the pool?”
“Yes.” I can see your thing now and it’s tiny. That doesn’t frighten me.”
“It was never meant to. You weren’t meant to ever see it.”
“Well, can I get in? You can wash my back and my hair.”
“I’m not your slave,” Chuckled Iona, “but yes, okay.”
Pangarie needed no further encouragement and she slid off the rocky ledge into the pool. Iona stood still as Pangarie ducked under the water and emerged from the water right by Iona’s tummy.
“Did you get a good look?” Iona asked accusingly.
“Well I just wanted to check properly.”
“There was no need, you should have believed me.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t see the balls.”
“Hello girl! Wake up call, the water may be tepid but it’s still cold enough to shrink them. They’re tucked up out of sight. Now turn around and I’ll do your back. You can do your own tits and bits.”
Pangarie duly obliged and Iona quickly realised that the wet ash acted like a soapy lye.
“Hey! This stuff is good. It’ll do as a crude shampoo.”
“So saying she tried a bit on her hair and her observations proved correct. She pressed a handful from Pangarie’s hair to the rock for use later then she ‘shampooed her own hair followed by Pangarie’s. When she rinsed her own hair she was pleasantly surprised by the texture but she had an even bigger surprise when she returned to Pangarie’s hair. When Pangarie first appeared that morning, her hair was caked in dust and sweat and when she had smeared the ash all over it had simply caked into her hair. Now that Iona had washed it out, she was surprised to realise that Pangarie’s hair was not curly but straight.
“Hey girl! How come your hair’s straight. I thought aborigines had curly negroid hair.”
“Yeah, don’t rub it in. I get enough stick from the remnants of my tribe, that’s why the men shun me, they say I’m a half-blood and that I should join my drunken, misfit siblings in the city. When I objected and said I wanted to follow the old ways, they pretty much shunned me.”
“That’s awful!” Iona hugged her, totally ignoring her male nudity. “Why would they be so horrible?”
As tears came to Pangarie’s eyes, she explained.
“They seem to believe that because I obviously have some half-blood that must go back generations, then I cannot ever see into the dream times properly and connect properly with the spirits who live there.”
“But weren’t you connecting with them earlier in the cave?”
“Not really. I was apologising for the state of the shrine and the shortcomings of my clan; my shortcomings because none of the true-blood men with marry me; no more children- no more clan!”
“Bloody hell, that’s just sick – and stupid.”
“Is it?” Pangarie asked as the tears really began to flood.”
“Yes, it damned-well is!” Iona cursed before adding unthinkingly, “anybody can enter the dream time if they have the gifts.”
“Well seemingly, I don’t. It must be the half-blood handicap.”
Iona decided to take the bull by the horns yet again and reveal her telepathy - the gift that enabled her to cross over. She grasped Pangarie by the shoulders and stared into her tearful eyes.
“Now listen Pangarie. I’m going to show you something”
Pangarie flinched fearfully and Iona’s telepathy recognised the primordial female fear of rape.
“No. Not that, nothing like that! This much more important and indeed, much more powerful than rape. Now listen and watch.”
Pangarie’s shoulders relaxed with a sudden overwhelming sense of calm and joy. She couldn’t understand what had just happened but somehow she felt at peace and utterly safe. Iona had just enveloped her mind with a loving telepathic embrace.
“There, does that feel better?”
“Why yes, what did you do to me?”
“I’ll explain later. Now look at the dingoes. I’m going to call them over. Don’t be afraid, they won’t bite you and after this, they never will.”
Without moving her lips or hands and without making a single sound Iona simply blinked her eyes, mainly for effect so that Pangarie could see some sort of physical interaction. Pangarie watched disbelievingly as the mother dingo stood up and padded forward with its wagging tail thrust proudly upwards. At the edge of the pool, it yipped softly and Iona reach out backwards without checking visually to stroke the dingo’s head and muzzle. The dingo licked her hand and whined softly as Iona continued.
“Now I’ll invite the cubs over.”
Pangarie continued watching as Iona stepped back towards the rocky edge of the pool and the cubs arrived to nuzzle her fingers while the mother lay down totally unconcerned.
“How did you do that?”
“I have the gift Pangarie. Entering the dream times is easy for me but I don’t have any acquaintances or names in the dream times. There is nobody there who can acknowledge me. Do you have spirits on the other side, in your tribe’s dream times?”
“Of course I do. My own father for one and many other ancestors who have not yet re-incarnated.”
“By re-incarnated, d ‘you mean come back as a new-born?”
“Yes.”
“Well that won’t affect this visit. Would you accompany me to your tribal dream-time and enable me to meet the spirits?”
“But you are not one of us – I am not fully one of us, the elders have told me this. It might not be safe for you or me to go.”
“Not tonight Pangarie, it is too late though the dark does not frighten me. Let us sit with the dingoes and I will explain further while we dry.”
So saying she slid up onto the rocky ledge of the pool, then stood up so that Pangarie got a full-blown exposure of Iona’s masculinity. Having now realised that there was something very special about the little white, (she still thought of Iona as a girl despite the obvious contradiction,) girl, Pangarie also stood totally naked as Iona bent to put more sticks on the fire.
As they stood drying by the flames Pangarie pressed more questions.
“What else can you do besides talk to the animals?”
“I can talk to you; you know without speaking aloud. Do you want to try it?”
“How’d ‘you mean?”
“Have you heard of a thing called telepathy?”
“Yes. Voices, like when we talk to the dead spirits.”
“Yes, well that’s partly right but I can also speak to the live spirits. Spirits like yours, and I can speak from a long way away. I don’t need totems or symbols to reach other spirits. Do you want me to show you?”
Pangarie bit her lip uncertainly.
“You won’t hurt me or harm me?”
“Not at all. I will go behind the buttress and speak to you from across the creek.”
“Be careful. It’s dark and if there are any freshies, they’ll be looking for food at night.”
“Believe me Pangarie, there’s isn’t an animal alive that can harm me.”
Pangarie watched uncertainly as Iona disappeared around the buttress, then re-emerged from the bushes a hundred yards lower down the valley to step unconcernedly into the bigger creek that flowed slowly towards the coast. Pangarie knew for certain that there were fresh water-crocodiles in the deep pool that Iona was now swimming across and she shuddered with fear as she watched the diminutive girl approach the far bank. To her horror she saw the dreaded shape writhing through the crystal-clear water then suddenly stop and go limp. Pangarie continued watching in amazement as the white girl actually turned towards the saurian terror then dragged it back to their side of the creek.
Even more frighteningly, she hear Iona’s voice enter her head.
“Don’t just stand there girl, this bloody croc is heavy. I’ll need a hand getting it up to the cave.
Pangarie called out instinctively. “Coming!” As she galumphed excitedly down the slope. When she reached Iona, she found her panting for breath at the edge of the vegetation before tackling the slope back to the cave. The dingoes had also followed her and commenced barking excitedly as they sniffed the freshly killed feast.
“How the hell did you do that?” Demanded Pangarie.
“What? Killing the croc or calling to you telepathically?”
Pangarie suddenly froze as the realisation hit her. Iona had not made a single sound nor had she appeared to fight or wrestle with the croc. Indeed she had not moved her lips at all while resting beside the dead croc. Fearfully she croaked at Iona.
“You are in my head!”
“Correct, but don’t be frightened, just think your thoughts and you won’t have to speak them.”
Pangarie was about to ask how that worked but instead she decided to try it.
“How can you read my thoughts?”
“Just like you read mine when I asked for help to get this lump of meat back to camp.”
As the realisation dawned that they were talking by thought, Pangarie almost froze with fear. Iona used a prosaic attitude to bring her back to functionality.
“Look girl, are you going to stand there thinking all night, or are you going to help me with this bloody croc. It’s heavy!”
The return to the mundane physicality of dragging the croc up the slope, brought Pangarie out of her trance.
“Uuh! Oh sorry, yes. Silly me.”
So saying both girls made short work of carrying the croc and were grateful to deposit the carcass by the fire.
“We’ll have to gut it, or it’ll taste awful by the morning.” Observed Pangarie.
“Damn. That’ll mean washing again before we go to bed.”
“It’s got to be done, crocs eat all sorts of shit, you have to remove the entrails as soon as.”
Iona shrugged, took her knife from her ruck-sack and they dragged the carcass to the stream below their bathing pool. In minutes flat Pangarie had done the honours and tossed the entrails towards the bushes well away from the campsite. The dingoes wolfed down the feast instantaneously while the ‘girls’ washed up again by the light of the campfire.
As they emerged from the pool for the second time, push came to shove vis-a-vis the sleeping arrangements.
“How shall we do this?” Iona offered Pangarie the choice.
“You’re slightly bigger than me, you’d better spoon me.”
“Yeah. Like that’ll work.” Iona countered with some sarcasm. “And what happens if ‘he’ gets curious? Best if you spoon me. That way you’re safe.”
Iona sighed philosophically as she sensed a tiny whisper of disappointment emanate from Pangarie’s psyche. She took the bull by the horns.
“What, are you saying you are curious as well? Did I just detect disappointment?”
Pangarie’s eyes flickered with confused embarrassment as she realised Iona had read her mind.
“That’s not fair! You read my thoughts!”
“Hardly surprising since we’re communicating telepathically, is it?”
“You mean, I can’t hide them, my thoughts that is?”
“Sadly not, unless I make an effort to separate your thoughts and our communications. I was checking to see if you were happy about sleeping behind me. Seemingly, I note that you would prefer me to spoon you even with the risk of you-know-what.”
“We would fit better and it would be more comfortable. You could wear your panties and that would stop any nonsense.”
“And you yours.” Iona added for good measure. “They should be dry by now.”
Having agreed on sleeping arrangements, they charged the fire, put their panties back on and crawled into the bag. Pangarie waited for Iona to get right into the bag then she pushed her feet into the remaining space and inveigled her way into what was virtually a cocoon - with cotton in front of her and flesh behind.
Once tucked in up to her neck, Pangarie snuggled and wriggled her butt into the ‘el-shaped’ cavity formed by Iona’s thighs and tummy.
“You’d better stop that right now,” Iona protested. “There’s only so much a girl with extra bits can withstand. Lie still please.”
Pangarie smiled to herself only to have Iona protest.
“I heard that!”
“What?”
“That thought! I warned you. You can stop thinking that right now!”
Pangarie cursed audibly.
“Dammit Iona! Is nothing sacred?”
“Not those thoughts. I have to protect myself.”
“From what?”
“Accusations of rape,” Iona grated.
“By whom? Who’s to know, who’s to care, nobody wants a half-breed abo who can’t even reach dream times properly.”
“Don’t put yourself down like that. That’s exactly what I was like before all this telepathy came to me.”
“Oh yeah!” Pangarie cursed. “Like telepathy’s going to come to me. How? You said you were born with it.”
“Well that’s as maybe, the fact is I don’t screw around on first nights, in fact I don’t screw around at all.”
“What even if a girl’s willing?”
“Especially if a girl’s willing! They have to understand the consequences!”
“Which are?”
“Not here, not now,” Iona sighed wearily. “Just go to sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Pangarie gave snort of impatience and drove her butt angrily against Iona’s tummy.
“Temper, temper girl,” Iona scolded her softly, “there’s a whole book of stuff you need to know about my problems before anything happens. You’ll see, now go to sleep.”
Pangarie reluctantly fell silent but sleep escaped her. To her chagrin, Iona had dozed off but minutes after they had stopped arguing. Eventually, sleep came and even the intense thunder-storm followed by torrential rain did not disturb either girl in the small hours.
The only consequence was that the dingo and her cubs had moved deeper into the cave to stay dry and share the warmth from the embers of the fire. At dawn, Iona managed to extricate herself from the sleeping bag without disturbing Pangarie for in truth she had slipped telepathically into Pangarie’s sleeping mind and somulised her briefly while she washed and relit the fire. When Pangarie finally awoke she found the dingoes curled up against the sleeping bag and the delicious smell of crocodile being cooked. The sun was already quite high and she sat up guiltily.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“No need. You were sleeping like a baby so I let you lie on. You’re going to need all your strength and knowledge when I lead you to the dream times.”
“But you’re not one of us so how do we cross over to the dream time and even if we do, I certainly won’t be accepted by my tribal spirits.”
“How do you know?” Iona challenged.
“The men of the tribe have told me. Only men and mothers are able to cross, after they have been initiated.”
“Well, we’ll find out only when we enter the dream times won’t we? Don’t believe everything other people tell you; especially if they have anything to lose by your finding the truth.”
“What would the tribal elders lose by my ‘crossing over’ as you call it?” Pangarie asked.
“Power, influence, control - to name but a few things.”
“But they need that to guide what’s left of the tribe.”
“Ah! Now there you’ve hit the nub of it; ‘what’s left of the tribe! - so to do that, they’ve left one last fertile woman in that tribe with hang-ups about her suitability and worthiness to be a mother. They have caused you to feel like some sort of pariah, a lesser being who is not worthy of carrying on the clan family lines. That doesn’t strike me as being wise. What happens to your clan after you die?”
Pangarie fell silent and stared into the flames of the fire. Iona sat silent, letting the girl digest her thoughts. She also slid a secret telepathic probe into Pangarie’s tormented mind so that she would have constructive answers when Pangarie started to ask questions. It wasn’t long before Iona sensed the questions coming.
“How will you enter the dream times, what herbs will you use?” Pangarie pressed.
“I don’t need drugs Pangarie,” Iona reassured her, “neither will you if you stay close to me.”
“How is that.”
“One of my secrets Pangarie is that I have travelled over to the other side on many different occasions and with many different peoples. I actually have friends on the other side who are not my family and not even of my race, but they recognise me and welcome me for what I am and what I can do.”
Pangarie digested this then asked.
“So how do you travel the path, how do you cross over.”
“Because I have my special gift, my telepathy. You already know of this for you have felt me in your mind. Well, I have other truths as well, other gifts. You might learn of some and not learn of others. It matters not. What matters is that I need you to join me crossing the dream time so that I can learn from your ancestors, your clan sprits. They will be more comfortable if they can recognise you; otherwise they might be afraid if I just appear in the dream times unrecognised and uninvited.”
Pangarie stuttered nervously.
“What! You say the spirits might be afraid of you? What sort of powers do you have?”
Iona silently scolded herself for she was angry at her own choice of words.
“Well not afraid exactly, unsettled might be a better word, disturbed perhaps. They have no need to fear me as they, and you, will learn when we cross over.”
Pangarie still felt a little nervous.
“Do I have to cross over? Will your force me to?”
“No! I don’t force anybody to do anything. All force achieves is resentment and enmity. I thought the whole reason for your coming to your clan shrine was to speak to you spirits.”
“Yes. It is.” Pangarie confirmed. “I’m sorry I lied earlier, It’s just that, well, I’m afraid. According to our tribe, I’m not qualified, not entitled.”
“We’ll all I can say to your tribal elders is that I say you are. I can tell you I am qualified to say you are and you must know this because you have seen and felt enough evidence; my telepathy, my restraint in the sleeping bag, the control of the dingoes. Does that not tell you something?”
Suddenly Pangarie had a flash of insight.
“Have you got something planned for me?”
“Not planned for you, but you will be offered options after we have entered and then departed the dream times.”
“Are you saying then that I’m some sort of ‘chosen one’?”
“No, our meeting was by pure chance. I certainly was not expecting anybody to happen along whilst I was here. In fact, I chose this place because it was remote and I wanted some time to reflect in silence and peace before attempting to cross into the aboriginal dream times on my own. Then you appeared and it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up; somebody the spirits would recognise, and further proof that I offer no harm or insult. As I said, if our crossing is successful, I will be able to offer you material choices and those choices should bring you the happiness you seek. It will be your choice to accept or refuse them. I will also add there are no dangers attached to the choices.”
Pangarie felt a nervous thrill flutter in her tummy. Curiosity finally overcame her primordial fears and she eventually agreed. The one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that she had felt no coercion and certainly no threat. Having decided to accompany the strange white girl, she decided she would continue considering Iona to be a girl because at no time had she felt the usual, familiar fears when she was around men. Finally she nodded her assent and Iona reached out to hug her. Pangarie stepped into Iona’s arms and their naked breasts pressed against each other which only served to reinforce Pangarie’s decision to count Iona as a sister.
As the embrace tightened, Pangarie whispered once more for reassurance.
“I will be safe, I mean we will be safe, won’t we?”
“Don’t worry Pangarie. As I said, I have friends on the other side but they came from other peoples, other cultures, other places. I only seek to enter the dream times because those places are the last different places and times that I know of. Your people’s relationship with all sorts of spirits is probably one of the earliest surviving connections to all that is human and basic to the land – the rocks, the soil, the trees, the water and so on. It is this root that I wish – no; I need to understand before I can move on.”
Pangarie leaned back in confusion.
“Move on? Move on where?”
“That’s just it Pangarie. I don’t know ‘where’! – Or how, or when, or why. I am hoping that the most basic aboriginal cultures might get me closer to the foundations of humanity’s ascent. I cannot build my understanding on shifting metaphorical sands. Modern religions have not brought me insight or understanding, older religions serve me even worse. One thing I notice is that the closer I get to humanity’s archaeological depths, the more the old cultures seemed concerned with life. The stone-aged figurines always seem to emphasise female fertility, while later religions, especially the monotheist ones seem more concerned with death and damnation in the afterlife. For me the fertility aspect is the more fulfilling one but I am still concerned with the other side, what comes after death. My telepathy has given me an incredible and priceless opportunity to explore these things. If only for my own peace of mind.
I am hoping your aboriginal tribal sense of connection to earth spirits, water spirits, tree spirits and animal spirits might shed some light. Call it a sort of spiritual ‘pantheism’ but it seems the most viable option to me, - the most effective tool.”
Pangarie felt a thrill of pride that this strange white woman with her incredible gifts, should choose her aboriginal nation’s cultures and beliefs to find some sort of solution to her life issues. Iona sensed Pangarie’s pride with her telepathy and their embrace tightened. In silence they savoured this most intimate of emotional connections before Iona eventually released the girl.
“Come on then, there’s work to do, but first I suggest we make sure we have full bellies. There’s no knowing how long this will take or how hard the journey will be.”
Pangarie smiled knowingly.
“After that rain last night, I think I might know of some fruit that might be available. It won’t be ripe but it will add to the meat.”
Iona’s eyes widened with appreciation.
“Then go and get them girl. I’m getting tired of meat, meat, meat.”
Within a short walk that led them into some very dense rain-forest, Pangarie finally stood at the base of a tree that bore some fruit that Iona had never seen before.
“What are these?”
“We call them Pari-wari. The white people think they are poisonous but this is only the case when they are ripe and sweet. Strangely, when they are green, they are okay after you boil them. You can try one now but they are bitter until you boil them. Then they become palatable, not a sweet delicacy but they count as vegetables.”
Charged with this information, Iona copied Pangarie and they gathered most of the fruit that was within easy reach. Back at the camp they boiled them and Iona savoured a new taste.
“Mmmm. These’ll do. Thanks Pangarie. Meat and veg for a change.”
The pair ate their fill then Pangarie grinned and passed a tasty morsel to the dingo cub that had most taken a liking to her. The bitch took this as a signal and edged forward hopefully with the second cub.
“Okay then mum. It would be really churlish to deny you a meal.” Iona chuckled and emptied the cooking pot at the feet of the dingo who immediately wolfed it down. When bitch and cubs had settled again in their usual spot under a deep ledge, Iona stood up and motioned to Pangarie.
“Well, let’s get to work, dream times here we come.”
Pangarie stood up and followed her slightly apprehensively into the tribal cave where the important tribal paintings had decorated the cave walls for centuries. In the green gloom, she shuddered slightly until Iona put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
They settled respectfully on their haunches and Iona took Pangarie’s hand.
“Just hold on to me and don’t be afraid.”
Pangarie was surprised to suddenly feel sleepy, though she had never felt tired during the morning. Then to her amazement, she felt as though she was dreaming and yet Iona was still alongside her and holding her hand. Briefly a darkness enveloped them and she clutched Iona’s hand tightly until slowly, a feint indiscernible glow started to grow and brighten until Pangarie could distinguish shapes that resembled the shapes of the wall paintings.
At first she thought they were the cave paintings but steadily, the glow seemed to increase and the shapes acquired vivid hues much brighter than the wall paintings. Then the colours seemed to start moving, very slightly at first – almost indiscernible but soon the colours resemble waving fronds of rainbow and the colours were intense.
Despite the incomprehensible illusions, she still knew she was actually conscious because she felt Iona’s hand tighten and then heard her voice explain something.
“Pangarie, do you hear me?”
“Yes!” Pangarie almost sobbed with incomprehension. “What are these moving colours?”
“I believe it is the threshold, beyond them is the dream time of your people. In other cultures this invariably seems to appear, to me at least, as a dark, obsidian mass but this is your culture and this is totally different. It seems to represent how your people celebrate death and explains why they speak of the Dream times. – The colours I mean; death is to be celebrated is that how you understand it?”
“That’s what the elders have told me, I never understood it because I was broken after dad died. My mother and aunt told me it was because I had not given him grandchildren but nobody would marry me because of what they called my half blood. The lighter skin and straight hair. Every man turned away and eventually our family were shunned.
My mother and aunt never forgave me even though they let me stay in the tribe. I am not illegitimate though; my dad is my dad and my mum is my mum.”
“Well that’s not important now. The important thing is to cross over. I think I can see a way, hold my hand tightly.”
Pangarie gripped Iona’s hand with a ferocious grip born of fear and uncertainty while she felt a slight nausea that rapidly turned to stomach churning sickness. Iona sensed Pangarie’s discomfort and supported her as the colours started to swirl and spin around them. The nausea turned to dizziness and suddenly they found themselves on what Pangarie could only presume to be the other side. For several moments there were strange symbols swirling and twisting on what might had been deemed walls but these eventually settled down and Pangarie heard a feint voice.
“Welcome Pangarie, why are you dreaming here?”
“Who are you?” Pangarie asked.
“A spirit of your clan, who is your guest?”
“She brought me here, her name is Iona.”
For several long uncertain seconds a silence hung about the pair then another voice spoke.
“Iona, I am He-that-sees. Are you still seeking?”
“Yes.” Iona replied as Pangarie listened intently.
“If you find what you seek, will you then rest?”
“Probably,” Iona replied again, “though not necessarily on this side; not yet anyway.”
“I see your children -my grandchildren- sometimes cross over to speak to me and they cross back.”
“That is the nature of my children. We all knew this when you enlightened me.”
“Do you intend to cross over when the time comes or will you stay on that side.”
“That’s a question I have not answered yet.”
“If you wish, your gift will enable you to stay on that side or this. You are the first Iona, and we of the spirit world can only advise you. Yours’ is a lonely road.
“I will face it when I must and walk it as I can. I am asking now for this child to be helped.”
Pangarie’s ancestor spirit interrupted.
“She is not a child; she should have children. Her father is bereft.”
Iona felt forced to answer on Pangarie’s behalf.
“That is not Pangarie’s fault. She wants a child but she believes she is only half-blood and the tribal elders tell her so.”
Pangarie listened with astonishment that her companion could cross over and then start arguing with the spirits. Like all peoples, all over the world, whatever their perceptions of the ‘other side’, they held the spirit or spirits to be omnipotent.
Pangarie’s spiritual ancestor replied.
“Her tribal elders are wrong. Half-blood is full blood.”
“That’s what I told her; in so many ways. You tell her! Or better still, bring her father before her and let him tell her.”
“That is not possible, her father has not been ‘crossed-over’ for long enough.”
Iona tutted irritably.
“Bloody hell. I weary of the spirit world. He that see’s, are you still there?”
“Yes,” came back the disembodied voice of Iona’s beloved friend.”
“Will you tell her?”
“It is enough that she has crossed over and been told. Now you know what you must do for her tribe.”
“What! More babies?”
“Yes!” Came back a chorus of voices that Pangarie could only conclude was like an invisible panel of judges at a court hearing.
She squeezed Iona’s hand as uncertainty took her. Then she was shocked and yet pleased when Iona returned the hand-squeeze. Next, the disembodied voice of her ancestor returned.
“Iona, take the girl back and explain.”
With a sigh born of frequent similar exchanges she turned to Pangarie and shrugged.
“Have your questions been answered.”
“I think so what did he mean by ‘half blood is full blood’?”
“He means that we’re all human, all the same species, all the same blood. If you mix one race’s blood with another race’s blood it is still human blood”.
“Oh I see. I wish they wouldn’t talk in riddles.”
“Come on then, let’s cross back. Don’t worry about the nausea, it gets easier every time you cross.”
As they stepped towards the cross-over, both Iona and Pangarie distinctly heard the distant laughter of ‘He-that-sees’. Once they had crossed over Pangarie asked about it.
“Did you hear that Indian’s laughter.”
“Yeah, that’s typical of him. He was the one who first enabled me to cross over, way back when I met his first nations daughter. I gave her a child, well two in fact and they are his grandchildren. Like me, they are telepathic and they often bring him great joy when they cross-over to speak their grand-dad.”
For long pregnant moments Pangarie considered Iona’s words as the penny slowly dropped.
“Is that what he was laughing about?”
“Him and all your ancestral spirits!”
Pangarie cursed yet while she grinned.
“Well bugger me. The dirty old bastards. They want me to, - They want, - They want you to give me a child, a telepathic child!”
“They may want it Pangarie, but only you can choose it. You’re in charge of your own body.”
“You mean, those spirits, - my ancestral spirits cannot order me?”
“Certainly not. Your choice, your rules.”
Pangarie’s grin morphed into a licentious smirk.
“Well I’ll be buggered.”
“Tut-tut young lady, language, language. And it’s not buggery, it’s called intercourse. Buggery mean’s taking it up the ar-.”
“I know exactly what buggery means! Don’t be so pedantic!”
At this stage, Pangarie started to chuckle then it turned to raucus laughter. Iona checked her mind and grinned knowingly.
“You see girl, life’s full of ups and down.”
“Ain’t that the truth!” Pangarie giggled. “One minute I’m crossing over on the highest spiritual plane, the next minute it’s all about sex and pornography.”
“No girl, sex and reproduction.”
“Yeah! Okay then reproduction. So when’s it to be, this insemination? Do we have to get married?”
“None of the other girls have married me.”
“Jeeze! How many are there?”
“Hundreds. In China we impregnated a whole swathe of teenagers who were victims of Mao’s ‘little emperor’ disaster. Then there were girls in India, Egypt, South America, The USA and of course back home in the UK. Where I was born - by the way.”
“You’re British! You sound more American.”
“Long story girl. Now I’m hungry again. Crossing over is hungry work.”
They stepped out of the spiritual cave and back to the camp site only to find that in the anticipated excitement of crossing over, they had both forgotten to hang up the carcass of the crocodile out of the dingo’s reach.
A very satisfied and replete dingo bitch lazed ‘swollen-bellied’ in the sun while two cubs suckled greedily. Pangarie cursed angrily.
“Why you greedy bloody bitch!”
She searched for a stick to beat the animal but Iona restrained her.
“It was our fault for failing to hang the carcass out of reach. Besides, isn’t our job done here. You’ve crossed over and I’ve spoken to aboriginal spirits. We can leave now.”
“We’re not finished yet,” Pangarie smirked knowingly.
Iona immediately grasped Pangarie’s inuendo but she shrugged it off.
“We can do that in the comfort of a nice hotel bedroom, back in Brisbane or Darwin.”
“I’d prefer to do it here, you know – somewhere spiritual, somewhere connected to the clan. If my child is going to be a telepath and easily able to cross over, I would at least like him to understand the tribal roots. You know; some sort of physicality associated with his coming into being.”
“That’ll be another day or so to your fertile cycle, so that’ll mean more hunting. Okay, what’s on the menu?”
“How do you know what my fertile cycle is?” Demanded Pangarie.
Iona tapped her temple knowingly and shrugged as she uttered one word. “Telepathy?”
“Dammit!” Pangarie cursed. “Nothing’s private is it?”
“Sorry girl. Learn to live with it. Besides, it’s only anatomy. Here we are stood together as naked as the days we were born, with our minds connected closer than you could ever have imagined only a day ago and you’re worried about privacy?”
Pangarie shrugged philosophically.
“I suppose so,” she conceded, “when you put it like that. But I still would like that element of connectivity, please.”
“Alright, that’s okay by me.”
Pangarie danced a couple of steps with joy or more correctly, contentment then paused as she reflected,
“So what now, another hunting expedition. That’s going to be a joy with no weapons except your knives and mine.”
“Leave that to me,” Iona reassured her, “but we’d better make a more permanent shelter if we want to keep dry. That rain last night was the harbinger of the rainy season. If it’s windy this cave isn’t deep enough to stop it driving under the ledge. We’ll get soaked unless we stay cuddled together in the sleeping bag all the time. That’s waterproof.”
Pangarie nodded and smiled as she contemplated that idea.
“Mmmm. Now that’s a nice thought, two days to a week of- you know-? But you’re right we can’t survive comfortably without food Leave the shelter and vegetables to me; you just get the meat.”
“Anything special? You know, kangaroo, wombat, another cassowary.”
Pangarie was supremely aware of the threats to native wild-life and she frowned.
“There are a few rabbits on that bare patch on the crest of those hills. It’s bit far away, but you’d be doing this jungle a favour if you killed a few of those pests.”
Iona stared at the distant ridge and shrugged. Her telepathy told her that Pangarie was just trying to test her, to see what Iona’s hunting skills amounted to. She still had not realised that Iona hunted by using her telepathic punch to kill. The crocodile incident had slipped her mind.
Without hesitation Iona set off for the hills as the dingo bitch trotted eagerly after her. Pangarie watched the pair disappearing and then set about finding a tree to strip some bark to make a shelter. Fortunately, it didn’t have to be a ‘bendy’ because the cave sheltered them from the back and most of the falling rain. It would be the driving rain that caused the most discomfort so the shelter was mainly a wall to shield the mouth of the cave.
As she set off to find a suitable tree she was surprised to find Iona had left both her knives at the camp. Pangarie cursed as she realised that Iona was already over the creek and trotting up the opposite side of the valley; out of earshot. She considered going after her but realised the girl was trotting far too quickly.
It was the first time Pangarie had seen Iona moving with purpose and the speed was impressive. She would never have caught her. She decided to concentrate on the shelter until Iona realised she had forgotten her knives and the belt to carry them.
The shelter was finished and Pangarie was savouring some fresh fruit and boiled roots in the late afternoon when Iona returned with several rabbit carcasses tied with a thin vine to a stick. The dingo bitch also looked well fed. The girl’s jaw sagged at the substantial catch and she stood up eagerly to welcome the hunter home.
“Bloody hell! You’ve done well; and no knife or weapon? How did that work?”
“It’ll do for a couple of days. You’re right, the ridge is virtually clear of trees, how did that happen.”
“Illegal loggers moved into the area some years ago before the government stopped them only last year. The rabbits prevent any young seedlings from re-establishing the forest and the government has not yet planted more mature saplings that the rabbits cannot nibble. You’ve done the forest a favour by killing these greedy buggers.”
As she took the rabbit carcasses off Iona, she realised there were no wounds on them.
“How the hell did you kill them?”
“Same way I killed the croc.”
“Pangarie remembered back and realised she had forgotten to ask Iona about the incident in the creek. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she repeated the question. Yes, I remember that now. The croc just stopped swimming towards you and died. How did you do that?”
“Same way I killed these rabbits. I stun them or, if I use more power, I kill them but it takes a lot of energy and I’m hungry. Now are we going to eat them or stand talking all night?”
Iona had already dug her knife out of her pack and was tackling the first rabbit as she spoke. Pangarie stared at the enigma that the white girl had become.
“Are you saying you can stun things with your telepathy thing?”
“Yes,” Iona replied unthinkingly as she was driving the tip of her hunting knife into rabbit’s belly.
The entrails were quickly eviscerated then the skin was whipped off in one skilful twist and tug that left Pangarie staring at the white girl whom she had believed to be a fussy little urban socialite.
“Bloody hell girl, you did that well. Where did you learn those skills?”
“When I was in America, He-that-see’s people taught me. His daughter mainly, the girl who bore our children and He-that-see’s grandchildren.”
“Is she still alive?”
“Very much so, I speak to her telepathic children regularly now. They’re in about the sixth grade now and count me as a sort of extra guide.”
“What! You speak across the ocean?”
“Yes, pass me another rabbit please.”
Pangarie realised she had not even begun her first rabbit yet and she hurriedly took two carcasses off the pole. Iona grinned knowingly as she deftly butchered the second rabbit and lobbed it into the pot.
“D’ you want the skins or can she have those as well.”
“I don’t see much use for them.” Pangarie replied.
“Well, you could make a nice bag with them, better than that old cotton bag you use. We can buy some needles and nylon thread when we get back.”
“Mmm. That’s a good idea. Okay, set them aside.”
“I’ll set them to cure after eating.”
After four rabbit carcasses had been prepared, diced and put to cook in the pot, Pangarie slid across and rested her head on Iona’s legs as she stretched in the sand beside the fire.
“This is nice.”
Iona stroked the girl’s face as she savoured the fire’s warmth.
“Yeah. Living the high life eh. Food, shelter and companionship; all a body needs to remain attached to its soul.”
“That’s okay for you to say. You’ll never want for food with that stun thing.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
The pair relaxed happily and the dingoes seemed to sense the mood. Slowly, the mother approached and curled up in the angle between Iona’s thigh and Pangarie’s shoulder then the cubs followed suite. The aboriginal girl reached out and savoured the dingo’s warm hairy coats while enjoying the easy intimacy. None of the three dingoes flinched as their eyes closed and their tails wagged gently
“This gang know a good deal when they see one,” Pangarie murmured as the evening shadows lengthened. “Is it food or warmth they prefer?”
“She had plenty of food on the hunt. I gave her three rabbits and she ate everything, bones and all. I can only surmise the cubs have suckled well from her.
They lay savouring the silence until the smell of the rabbit stew declared itself ready. Reluctantly the pair got up and disturbed the dogs as they filled their tucker bowls. The nice part was not having to worry about scraps attracting vermin or snakes. The dingoes made sure of that.
After eating their fill, Iona stood again and Pangarie studied her graceful form.
I can’t get over you. Your whole body shouts girl until I look down there.”
“Does it upset you?”
“No. That’s the strange part.”
“Well this girl’s going to clean up. Is there any of that white ash left?”
“Yes, there’s some, but I also collected some plants that make a soapy mixture when they’re crushed. They’re next to the ash on the rock by the pool. Try it, you’ll like them.”
Iona padded naked to the pool and Pangarie followed. The pool was still quite warm and they each washed the other down with the crushed plants. Iona sniffed the lye that leached from the plants and asked.
“Where do these grow?”
“Close to the creek; don’t worry I checked for crocs and the cubs accompanied me.”
Iona nodded as she savoured the super-soft feeling of the herbal lye.
“Mmmm that’s lovely, ooh! Hey, watch-it!”
Pangarie giggled as she fondled Iona’s bits and squeaked with amusement as they responded.
“I’m ready for bed, are you?” Pangarie chuckled.
“We’ll have to dry off first. Can’t sleep in a wet sleeping bag.”
“Spoil sport. Come on let’s dance around the fire.”
Pangarie tugged easily and the willing Iona eagerly followed. Within minutes they were dry enough to spoon into the bag naked.
Recognising each other’s eager willingness there was no suggestion of any coercion as Pangarie surrendered herself.
Cautiously she spooned tight into the protective curve that Iona’s body offered then tensed slightly as she felt the hardness. Being an only child and one the very few latter-day aborigines who chose to follow the old ways, Pangarie was somewhat ignorant of most things carnal. She whispered nervously.
“Promise you’ll stop if I’m hurting.”
“Of course I will. It surprises me and hurts me a little that you feel you have to ask.”
“I’ve heard other girls say it hurts – the first few times, that is.”
“Well I can tell you it doesn’t, not if the man is gentle.”
“What do I have to do now?” Pangarie asked uncertainly.
“Just manoeuvre yourself so that you feel me starting to go in then stop for a moment before going any further.”
Pangarie did as asked then hesitated as she felt gentle fingers reach around and touch her in that special very private place she often touched. She squeaked with surprise to feel unaccustomed fingers doing what she usually did for her own private delight.
“Ooh!” She squeaked again. “Hey, that’s nice. Just keep doing that.”
Iona didn’t reply. Talking would be something of a distraction. Her immediate objective was to reassure the girl and bring her to physical and emotional preparedness. Several times she deliberately paused only to feel Pangarie’s hand grasp her fingers and return them to their task. She sensed Pangarie’s urgency as her preparedness became apparent. As the girl’s body responded, Iona gently pressed and felt herself easily inveigle her penis past the threshold of Pangarie’s innermost sanctuary. She paused considerately only to have Pangarie push herself urgently onto the welcome invader.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered throatily.
Iona was still hesitant. Her many experiences and Pangarie’s responses confirmed that the girl was definitely virgo-intacto.
Gently, she pressed a bit more and felt Pangarie tense. Once again, Iona reassured her.
“I think I’ve reached your hymen. I’ll stay still and let you work your way onto me. Take your time, we’ve got all night.”
“This the bit that can hurt, they say.”
“Sometimes it can be painful, but the best way is to let you do the honours. Just take your time.”
There was a pause and Iona gently reached with her other hand and brushed Pangarie’s nipple. Pangarie gasped and twitched responsively, a move that caused her to inadvertently press a bit harder onto Iona’s penis and rupture her hymen. She squeaked slightly with pain, slightly with surprise but all importantly, essentially with relief at the sensation. It had not hurt anywhere as near as she had feared and Iona could feel Pangarie’s physical tension melt away.
Having crossed her sexual ‘Rubicon’, Pangarie gently rearranged herself and pushed backwards again. Iona picked up on her action and resumed gently thrusting as she sensed Pangarie starting to respond.
The remainder of the union went for Iona as it always had on previous couplings. She used her telepathy to determine Pangarie’s responses and fantasies then she adjusted her performance to exactly complement Pangarie’s needs both mental and physical. Pangarie’s ‘deflowering’ would always be the best sexual experience she would ever have. To add additional fulfilment for Pangarie, there was the knowledge that the child of their lovemaking would be a telepath, the first among her own people and yet able to communicate with other peoples all over the planet. Almost immediately after the act, Pangarie fell into a contented slumber.
For Iona it was as it had always been. She garnered no emotional satisfaction or pleasure from the act. The capacity to emote had been smashed out of her in her earliest childhood and adolescence thanks to uncomprehending psychiatrists in the psychiatric institutions of the north of England and perverted wardens in the children’s home at Mabin park in Wales. While Pangarie slept and dreamed, Iona just lay silent awaiting the dawn. She was however thankful for one small mercy; the ‘Grey Wolves’ did not – for once, come to torment her after the lovemaking.
‘Maybe my issues are resolving themselves’, she thought hopefully.
Eventually the first glow of dawn crept into the eastern sky and gave Iona the excuse to extricate herself from the sleeping bag. She slid out skilfully and re-kindled the fire to have a hot breakfast awaiting Pangarie when she finally awoke.
The smell of cooking rabbit and boiled roots followed by the call of nature, finally dragged Pangarie reluctantly out of the warm sleeping bag. She sniffed appreciatively before crouching down behind a bush to relieve herself. Iona avoided any cause for embarrassment by tending to the fire and stirring the rabbit stew. After briefly washing in the brook, Pangarie joined Iona beside the campfire, leant over and kissed her companion.
“Thanks for last night. It was wonderful.”
“How’re you feeling – you know, down there. Any soreness.”
“A bit, but nothing to complain about. You were ever so gentle. I was always told it would hurt.”
“It shouldn’t, if the man cares and doesn’t behave like some rapacious oaf.”
“Mmm. Can we do it again later?”
“Your choice darling, make sure you’re not too sore down there and there’s no cuts or tears.”
“There doesn’t seem to be, I checked in the pool. There’s a tiny bit of soreness inside, but I think that was my virginity. There’s no blood in the sleeping bag, I checked as I got out.”
Iona turned and kissed Pangarie back before observing.
“There shouldn’t be if the boy is careful and takes his time.”
“Thanks. It was wonderful. Shall we stay here until my fertile cycle is over?”
“No reason not to. There’s plenty of rabbits in that open area across the creek and I spotted some small wallaby or tree-kangaroo tracks. I also found another fruit tree but you’d better check it out, I’m not sure what’s poisonous and what’s not.”
After finishing breakfast, they took the dingoes and crossed the creek to check the area for any other varieties of fruit while the dingoes flushed out an assortment of small creatures. As they emerged scrambling out of the undergrowth, Iona stunned them while Pangarie decided after inspection if they were worth cooking. Within an hour, they had supplies enough for a couple of days and were returning naked back to the camp with their arms full of goodies.
Suddenly Iona sensed strangers at the campsite and she immediately warned Pangarie telepathically.
“They’re not aborigines. Just a bunch of white people enjoying some sort of trekking thing.” Iona informed Pangarie.
“Shit. Shall we hide here until they leave?”
“That’s pointless, their guide has already concluded that the camp is occupied, for the embers are still smouldering.”
As Iona listened telepathically the guide was declaring to the trekkers that the owners of the camp and its fire were idiots for leaving the fire unattended. Iona explained to Pangarie.
“He’s complaining about our camp-fire. It’s safe as far as I see.”
Pangarie expressed her annoyance, as a life-long bush-dwelling aborigine she knew perfectly well that the fire had been left safe. It was surrounded by sand and rock at the back of the cave and the embers were from safe wood that did not spit sparks.
“I’ll bloody tell him what’s safe and what isn’t. This is my tribal land and that’s now recognised by the government. He’s the guest here and the fire is safe!”
So saying she stood up boldly from behind the dense bush then marched naked into the midst of the campers.
“I heard what you said, and the fire is safe.”
The trekkers and the guide turned as one to stare at the naked girl. One loutish oaf stepped towards her.
“Bloody hell! Would ye’r Adam and Eve it! A fuckin abbo! A pure bloody, stark naked abbo! Hello darlin’ wat’cha doin’ ere!”
As the lout spoke he approached her to check her out then turned to his companions.
“Hey fella’s, she’s not so pure! She’s got light skin, straight, ‘air an’ she’s a bit of a looker!”
So saying, he reached out to grab Pangarie’s arm. She screeched angrily and tried to rip her arm free but he just grinned licentiously. Next she tried to punch him but he easily restrained her. Meanwhile, Iona watched from the cover of the dense bushes. Then the dingo bitch emerged from the bushes and stalked stiffly towards the struggling pair whilst snarling and baring her teeth. He aimed a kick at the animal then the guide came forward with a heavy stick he used as a walking staff.
He swung the staff and caught the animal with a vicious blow on the rump. The dingo howled and staggered off back into the bushes as the guide turned to Pangarie.
“You should have that animal secured; it could be dangerous.”
Pangarie yanked again at the loutish trekker’s grip and cursed.
“You should also have this animal secured; it seems more dangerous to me. Tell him to release me.”
“What the hell are you doing wandering about the bush totally naked?” The guide demanded?”
“I live here, it’s my tribe’s land and you know it. If I want to live in the native tribal mode. I will. Now tell him to let me go!”
“Let her go Neill. You’ve had your fun.”
“The trekker smirked and moved to grab Pangarie’s breast before acceding to the guide’s instructions.
He reached over her shoulder from behind and grabbed the ripe globe. Pangarie bent her head down and bit hard on his forearm causing him to curse.
“You fucking wild bitch! If you walk around like a wild animal, you’re gonn’a get treated like one.”
So saying, he pulled his injured arm back and swung a vicious blow at Pangarie’s head. It never connected. From her bush, Iona released a telepathic blow that rocked the trekker back on his heels before he slumped to the ground with a surprised grunt. For an instant Pangarie was as shocked as everybody around her until Iona telepathed the explanation for the bully’s sudden collapse. Having then understood what had happened she gathered her wits and cleverly exploited the situation.
For a long moment, the silence hung like a curtain as the other trekkers stared stupidly at the unconscious bully. Finally the guide recovered his composure.
“What did you just do?” The guide demanded as he bent down to check the bully.
Showing a speed of mind that even impressed Iona, Pangarie snapped
“This is a holy tribal shrine, a gateway to the dream times. He has offended the spirits! You’d better get him out of here.”
A collective miasma of fear started to supplant the sense of shock or curiosity and the trekkers started casting coveteous glances towards the trail they had arrived by. Pangarie did not need Iona’s telepathy to sense the mood of fear amongst the trekkers so she decided to exploit the situation.
“Yes. You’d all better leave this shrine and let me meet my dream spirits as I first intended – alone!”
As soon as the bully had recovered enough to walk, the nervous trekkers started crossing the creek and stumbling along the trail they had arrived by. Once they were far enough away, Iona emerged from the bushes and Pangarie sagged with relief.
“Thanks. That telepathy thing – can you kill somebody with that?”
“I could but I rarely have to. Most idiots get the message after one lesson, just like they did.”
“I wish my spirit was that strong and once again, thanks.”
“No problem darling. How’s the dingo? That wound looks painful.”
They both tended the whimpering bitch and concluded nothing was broken. Then they collected the supplies they had gathered and prepared a meal. As they finished their food Iona lay back by the fire and Pangarie crawled towards her with a hopeful smile. Iona grinned.
“Alright then. Are you sure you’re up for it. No pain down there?”
“A bit, but I think we can try. If it hurts though, will you stop if I say?”
“Of course. I’m not some sort of beast.”
Having agreed, Iona recovered the hidden sleeping bag and unrolled it by the fire.
“We don’t have to squeeze inside. Better if we do it on the bag, it’s warm enough.”
Pangarie grinned at the thought of being able to wrap her legs around Iona’s thighs and she rolled onto her back. Iona slid beside her at first then accepted her invitation Iona’s knowing hands worked their magic again and in a short time their emotional embrace was cemented into their second conjugation.
The remainder of their two months at the shrine remained divided between, hunting, eating, ‘dreaming’ and loving until Pangarie missed her cycle.
“I must be with child,” she declared with a certain smugness. “I’m normally as regular as clockwork.”
Iona smiled happily then placed her ear against Pangarie’s tummy.
“Wach’you doing?”
“Just checking.”
“Checking for what.”
“Just checking our twins are okay.”
“Twins!” Pangarie gasped. “How the hell can you tell it’s twins?”
Iona tapped her temple to signify telepathy before answering.
“We’ve got a son and a daughter. I’ll know in about four to six months for certain if one or both are telepathic. I’m more or less certain now but best to be sure.”
Pangarie’s expression changed from incredulity to tearful joy as she reached across to hug Iona while her tears flowed freely over Iona’s breasts. Even the dingoes seemed to sense something special as they crawled forward on their bellies to rest their jaws on Pangarie’s thighs. For Pangarie this was the final confirmation of her womanhood; her becoming a fully enrolled member of her tribe. Iona read her emotions and whispered.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to tell your mum and aunty?”
“Can we wait until they quicken?”
“Your choice my darling. How d’ you think they’ll take it?”
“Will you stay by me, stay by the children?”
“I’m sorry, I cannot do that full time but I promise you that neither you nor your babies will ever lack anything, food shelter, education everything material they could ever want but I can’t be here to father them continuously. I’ll come by at least once a year and they will know who their father is. Once they understand what their telepathy is and learn that the voices in their heads are not imagined, then I can talk with them all the time and any time.”
“And what about me” Pangarie frowned. “Will I be able to stay in touch?
“Of course, I can call you any time; anywhere. Think of me as your provider to access the telepathic web, it’s world-wide. In fact I’m going to set up a collective call right now and you can talk to some of your unborn children’s half kin. My oldest son is called Benjamin we can speak to him right now. Just listen for a moment.”
Pangarie’s eyes widened expectantly then she was surprised and excited to hear a male voice in her head but talking to Iona
“Hi dad! Long-time no hear. We thought you were dead or something.”
Pangarie gasped as she heard Iona reply.
“Hello son, sorry about the silence. How is everybody?”
“Happier to have heard from you. Can I spread the word?
“Yes.”
“Are you with a nontel?”
“Yes; full marks for observation. Her name’s Pangarie and she’s an Aboriginal Eve.”
“Oh wonderful! Hello Pangarie, so congratulations are in order.”
Pangarie glanced nervously towards Iona and Iona smiled as she nodded reassurance.
“Go on, he’s my son, he won’t bite.”
Pangarie paused hesitantly before replying.
“Hello Ben, is that short for Benjamin?”
“Yes. Yours’ is a nice name. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to meet the rest of the family? There’s rather a lot I’m afraid.”
Again, Pangarie looked to Iona for reassurance and Iona intervened.
“Do it gently Ben, Pangarie’s only just learned about the rest of you.”
“Okay dad, I’ll introduce her to Doctor Mary’s daughter Rebecca first. She named her after her own mother. Rebecca acts as the interceder for the whole family even our Chinese half kin.”
As Iona’s oldest daughter, she had fully expected Rebecca to have taken over that roll. Ben then invited Pangarie in.
“Okay Pangarie, first you’ll hear a sort of chattering like birds gathering for the evening or preparing to migrate but you will soon be able to ignore it as background ‘chiffchaff’ In a few seconds you’ll begin to make out Rebecca and the background noise will begin to fade. This apparently is how it is for the ‘nontels’ who know about our web. They can’t access the web themselves they have to rely upon ‘tels’ to bring them in every time.” Ben then ‘turned’ telepathically to address his sister.
“Hi Becks’, dad’s created another Eve and she’s having twins.”
“Hi Pangarie, welcome to our humble web.”
Pangarie was about to ask Rebecca how she knew her name until she realised that the girl, (not much younger than herself) had obviously determined her name by telepathy. Rebecca sensed Pangarie’s discomfort and apologised.
“Sorry darling, please don’t be offended or feel I’ve invaded your thoughts. Your name is so fundamental to your sense of being that it radiates outwards as part of every female subconscious aura whether they are telepathic or not. Female telepaths can detect it.
Boys don’t radiate this, consequently their telepathy varies from ours, that’s why our dad had to introduce you to Ben. Us girls share a more intimate form of telepathy but we think it’s more fun. All importantly we can block our fellow telepaths out, but the boys can’t. We always know what the boys are thinking but they only know what we girls let them know.
Now that’s enough of the science and social graces. Let me congratulate you on carrying twins and especially as one of them is a boy. Boys are quite rare you see; we girls outnumber them about twenty to one.”
Pangarie listened avidly until Rebecca finished and asked her if she had any questions.
“Just one,” Pangarie replied. “Why the boy - girl discrepancy in numbers and why the differences in your telepathy. Does that make boys special or superior in any way?”
“No.” Rebecca replied quite simply. “It just makes the social fabric of the web more stable. Boy’s tend to ‘wander’ and by fertilizing nontel ‘eves’ like you they can grow our telepathic community much faster. It’s a bit like elephant herds but in a telepathic spectrum. The matriarchies run the clans while the patriarchs tend to spread it around a bit more. Though boys do tend to stick closer to their full-blood sisters’ clans, telepathically that is. Geographically, boys can spread all over the planet and that’s the beauty of it. They provide the bones of the telepathic web.
Pangarie digested this information thoughtfully.
“And all this goes on undetected within the normal human society?”
“Well some government agencies suspect that something’s going on but telepaths know they would be in danger if any of them revealed it so we never admit to anything.”
“Do telepathic girls have telepathic babies by ordinary males.”
“Yes, every time. Telepathy’s a dominant gene.”
“So eventually –?” Pangarie let the question hang.
Rebecca confirmed that eventually, the whole of humanity would be telepathic.
“That would be a good thing I think.”
“Well, a lot fewer misunderstandings and therefore a lot fewer wars.” Rebecca opined. “So d’ you want to meet some of your twins’ future cousins?”
“I’d love to.”
After Iona excused herself from proceedings because she was tired, Ben and Rebecca took Pangarie on a telepathic ‘grand tour’. It was early evening when she finally ‘returned’ to find Iona cooking the last rabbit stew.
“So, are we returning back to civilisation tomorrow?” Pangarie asked.
“Are you ready to. Maybe one last dream time here at your shrine?”
Pangarie nodded before affirming as a joyous tear glistened in her eye.
“Yes, I’d like dads’ spirit to know I’m with child and his grandchildren will prosper.”
“Then we tell your mum and your aunt. Vocally that is. They don’t need to know their grandchildren are telepathic.”
“I wish I could tell them; it would reassure them about our clan’s future.”
“They’ll realise the future is good for the clan when they learn that your children are attending school and yet able to enter the dream time. In touch with the spirits in a very real and palpable sense. Oh! And another thing, provided the security agencies don’t mess with me, I’ll be staying in Australia and I might meet a couple of white girls to spread the genes. But I’ll always be around for your kids. Come on, let’s turn in. I must be turning into an Australian cos I’m beginning to feel the cold.”
Pangarie grinned, fingered the growing lumps in her womb, and unfolded the sleeping bag.

Chapter 11.
Deep into hiding (The best solution)

Having decided to return to Darwin, Iona and Pangarie trekked through the Jungle then the drier bush until they reached the small village where Iona had parked up her four-by-four. Naturally three canine companions had attached themselves to the pair as they had decided that their best life choice lay with Pangarie and the strange human who could somehow affect their brains.
As Iona thanked and paid the garage owners for storing and parking her vehicle, the dingoes sniffed it cautiously because large four-by-fours invariably meant trouble in the form of guns poking through its windows. They hesitated when Iona and Pangarie invited them to climb in the back but eventually Iona managed to entice them in and within an hour’s driving the three dingoes were lying contentedly in the back. By now the ‘dogs’ (because now Pangarie was thinking of them as ‘dogs’) were reasonably obedient and proved no problem when they stopped for services.

After several days slow driving they arrived in Darwin where Pangarie’s lifestyle was to change considerably.

Firstly, they stayed in a hotel that accepted dogs while Iona sought out a suitable, more permanent home. They soon found a small outback holding that bordered Pangarie’s tribal lands and gave Pangarie and her ‘dogs’ the freedom and privacy that suited her nature. Next, the steps to learning to drive and obtaining her passport were completed and finally, Iona arranged the trust fund. Within a few months Pangarie was set for life while she settled down to gestating the fruits of her womb. Iona stayed by her side throughout her pregnancy and as the day approached, Pangarie’s mother and aunt were invited to join her. They arrived blissfully unaware that their ‘runaway daughter’ had even got herself with child.

At first Iona stepped back from their reunion for she had mistakenly thought it would be a happy, family event to celebrate Pangarie’s fulfilment of her tribal duty. However, when she heard harsh words coming from the house, she was forced to intervene. Her unexpected appearance compelled Pangarie’s mother and aunt to back off.

“And who are you?” Demanded the overbearing aunt who Iona had immediately determined was the main problem.

“I’m the baby’s father.”

Both older women gaped at the slightly built woman with almost white hair and turquoise eyes. Then the gapes turned to disbelieving glares before the aunt went into a tirade of transphobic abuse, mainly directed at Iona before she turned to her niece Pangarie.

“Are you telling us that you’ve married some sort of transgendered freak?”

For the first time in her life, Pangarie found herself able to stand up to her aunt. Iona’s presence had emboldened her and enlightened her as she reacted angrily.

“Wrong again aunty! We are not married but Iona is the father of my children! If you don’t like it, you can leave now.”

Pangarie’s mother stared at Iona as her mind ticked concernedly.

“Will you look after Pangarie’s child, or is this to be another disaster for our family? Another abandoned aboriginal girl?”

“Children! Ma, children! Don’t you ever listen. I said Iona is the father of my children! I’m having twins; and as for care well look around you! This small-holding is mine, that green ute is mine and I’ve got an income for life!”

The mother turned suspiciously to Iona again.

“What’s your motive?” Why pluck a native born aboriginal girl out of the bush and set her up in luxury? I can see that her half-blood looks are very attractive in your eyes; Is there some sort of sex thing going on here?”

Iona’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Not at all and how dare you suggest that I’m some sort of pimp or madame! This farm-holding is entirely Pangarie’s and I’ll be supporting our children fully as every father should. If you can’t accept our arrangements and life-style then that’s your loss! And as to the matter of good looks, yes your daughter is very attractive but that is NOT the reason I have helped her. It so happens your daughter is a very kind and intelligent girl. She helped me cross-over into the
dream times so this is my way of saying thank you to her.”

The mention of ‘crossing-over’ silenced the two older women momentarily before the aunt asked slightly nervously.

“Is this true Pangarie? Did you cross over?”

“Yes! And it’s not as dangerous for young virgin girls as the old men say it is!”

“How did you do it? Who showed you?”

Pangarie huffed with frustration as she enlightened them.

“She did! It was Iona! She has a rare skill and she’s going to meet with our tribal elders after our children are born. She’s staying here until our babies are born then she introduces them to the elders to get them accepted as full members of our tribe, our clan and our family.”

“I would be ashamed to even show them to the elders!” The aunt interjected.

“I don’t give a damn how you feel aunty. This is how it’s got to be!”

“Do you think the elders will accept a child even less than half blood aborigine!?”
Demanded the aunt.

“They will after they have crossed over with me.” Iona advised her softly.

“You can’t force them to take you with them into the dream time.”

“I don’t need to. If and when they cross over, the spirits will want to know why they did not bring me with them. Then they will be forced to meet me with spirits because I will be waiting for them. As the spirits told Pangarie, half blood is full blood and you can be assured that any tribal elders who refuse to accept Pangarie’s children as full blood, will return from the dream time with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me now, any tribal elders who refuse her children full tribal recognition will anger the spirits.”

The aunt fell silent as she contemplated what Iona was telling her between the lines.

“Who are you to command the spirits?” Pressed the aunt.

“I don’t command the spirits; I just hold them to account if the laws are broken. Pangarie has already been told her children will be accepted by the spirits as full aboriginal and that’s the end of any argument.”

The aunt finally fell silent. There were obviously things going on to which she had no insight Pangarie’s mother now realised this and concluded correctly that the font of the clan’s law and regulation along with the guardian/provider of the bloodline, had passed from her older sister to her daughter. She turned again to Iona because she was intelligent enough to realise that whatever new skills her daughter had learned or acquired, they seemed to come via the white woman.

“Thank you for providing for Pangarie – and her children. Will they be going to the white schools and what of their tribal educations?”

“They will have to be educated in both spheres of life. I hope that by inviting you here for the children’s births, you will see fit to stay here and teach the children your ancient ways. The farm-holding enables them to visit the tribal lands easily for it borders your tribal land. They will be able to easily connect spiritually and physically to the land. Their white schooling will be at the local school, so they won’t be boarders and they can visit their lands each day if necessary.”

Pangarie’s mother relaxed and smiled.

“I’ll be delighted to stay for it means I also can remain connected to our tribe-lands while yet being close my grandchildren.”

She then turned to her older sister.

“This is a good deal Sis. You could even camp on the tribe-land for the border is the creek that borders the fence. You can literally step across whenever the fancy takes you.”

“I thought you’d prefer to live here in the house.” Pangarie ventured to both her aunt and her mum.

“That’s fine by me darling,” her mother replied, “what about you Sis?”

“I’ll accept the arrangement willingly, but I’d prefer to have my own personal camp just over there across the creek.”

“Calling distance, no less.” Iona confirmed. “That’ll work. Your clansmen will be more at ease when they come calling if you’re actually standing on tribe-land.”

For the first time since their arrival, Pangarie’s aunt smiled at Iona while a tear escaped her eye.

“You really do understand our ways, don’t you?”

“Enough to do things correctly. Every day when your niece and nephew come home from school they will have the opportunity to call on you if you aren’t already chatting with their mother in the farmhouse. Their connection to the land, will be your connection, their blood, your blood. I recognise your matriarchal position in the clan and I hold that important for my children to keep hold of all their roots.”

The aunt flung her arms around Iona as she asked.

“Why do you do this, there are very few of you that respect our ways.”

“Because I know what’s important for these children. When the time is right you will learn why but not yet. For now you will have the children on loan until they are ready.”

“When will that be?” Pangarie asked.

“When they are college age. Though as you know Pangarie, I will be coming by more frequently with each year as they grow. Now shall we go and choose a site for Aunties’ camp?”

This positive, constructive suggestion pleased everybody and the four of them crossed the creek to decide the location. Both Iona and Pangarie smiled and squeezed each other’s hands as the noticed the older women actually flexing their bare toes surreptitiously in the rich fertile earth. Finally a site was decided and they lit a fire to mark the very heart of the aunt’s new home. Iona grinned as she sensed the ecstatic gratitude in all three aboriginal hearts.

‘Things were working out,’ she concluded.

A few days later, Pangarie delivered her babies at the aunt’s campsite in the true aboriginal tradition. A few weeks later, Iona went ‘walkabout’, telepath style. It was fully a year before she returned.

During that year Iona learned that both British and American security agencies were still looking for her though they thought she was still in China. Armed with this information, Iona concluded she had one last chance to physically travel the world, visiting her many children before she would have to determine a flawless way of ‘disappearing’.

To this end, she stayed in Australia for a few months keeping low while maintaining global telepathic contact with her older children, those being the children that had experienced the threats that Iona had faced on the day she rescued her American daughters.. These were mainly her older British children by Sandra and Doctor Mary, and the American daughters by Emma and Jackie from the Oregon. She now contacted them daily in her endeavours to give her children reassurance and confidence as they gradually learned to spread their own telepathic wings.

It was during her return to Pangarie’s homestead that the first inklings of a permanent solution came to her.

She was lying by the campfire one night idly chatting to one of Pangarie’s tribal elders who’s Australian name was Billy. They planning a ‘cross-over’ to the dream time. Another tribal elder had recently died and he had been a popular counsellor for the tribe. Iona and ‘Billy’ were planning the cross-over in the hope of garnering some knowledge of the tribal spirits. The subject of reincarnation came up as Pangarie’s aunt and ‘Billy’ joked about who would be the likely recipient of the dead elder’s spirit.

“Surely it’s not a joking matter,” offered Iona.

The male elder shrugged unconcernedly as he explained.

“There are about four girls with child in the tribe at the moment, it could any one of those babies or somebody else. There’s no knowing where his spirit might choose to lodge. I’ll bet every girl is hoping for his spirit to lodge in their child because he was truly a well loved and respected member.”

Iona smiled a little patronisingly but the elder sensed her dismissal.

“Don’t be so dismissive of it Iona, tell me, where would you want your spirit to reside when you go?”

“Oh bloody hell Billy! Now there’s a thought. What do most of your tribe wish for?”

“Mostly they want to come back to one of their own family’s new-born babies, especially if they had a happy childhood in their previous life. If they had a bad time, they look elsewhere. But, you didn’t answer my question, where would you like your spirit to reside?”

“Dammit Billy, I’m an atheist, the idea of spirits and the like leaves me cold. Sorry old fella, I can’t answer your question.”

“That’s so sad Iona. You obviously didn’t have a happy childhood or you’d want to return as a family member. D’ you feel like discussing it with our tribal spirits when we cross over?”

“I suppose we could though the less said about my childhood and family, the better!”

“Well there’s no better time than the present. We’re crossing over together tonight so let’s see what the spirits reveal; if anything at all.”

“You don’t seem very certain.” Iona mused.

“Who can tell. There’s no knowing what the spirits will say though Pangarie tells me that you have some remarkable abilities. Her Aunt Lucy believes you can even control the spirits.”

“No. That’s not exactly right, it’s just that I’ve crossed over with other peoples who are not of your race, so I’ve picked up a few pointers and truths concerning the spirit worlds.”

“Are you prepared to reveal those truths to us?”

“I’ve never thought they mattered but on reflection, it might be a good thing if you can reach a better understanding of the spirit world. Let’s see what the spirits tell us tonight.”

“Amen to that,” Billy chuckled. “I can’t wait. From what Pangarie tells me, you’re a useful fellow traveller to have when crossing over.”

“Wait and see,” Iona replied. “I’m going to get some sleep before we travel.”

Billy grinned and hugged himself inwardly. Iona read his thoughts and sensed a similar fricassee of pleasure twitch through her guts. In the house, Iona stretched out on her own bed and Pangarie slid onto it beside her.

“So you’re crossing over with old Billy tonight. Can I come?”

“I’ve no objections, go and ask Billy if he isn’t already asleep.”

Pangarie returned with her face wreathed in a smile.

“He’s agreed.”

“Well go and get some sleep, you know more than any of your kinsmen, how tiring it can sometimes be.”

“I’ll sleep right here, with you.”

“Ohhh, alright then.” Sighed Iona as she lifted her arm to invite Pangarie under the blanket’

“It was midnight before they awoke to join Billy by the campfire.”
“Will that not impoverish your spirit for the crossing?” Asked Billy.

“Quite the contrary,” Iona replied. “Being in a contented happy mode pleases the spirits.”

Billy wagged his head as he smiled. “Well, you learn something every day. Come on let’s get down to it.”

To his surprise, Billy had Hardly closed his eyes when he found himself at the ‘crossing’ with Iona and Pangarie.

“Bloody hell Pangarie! Your aunty Lucy is right! She does have special powers!”

Iona ignored Billy’s sense of wonderment as she simply said. “Let’s cross.”

Without any preamble or preparation, Billy suddenly found himself with Pangarie and Iona on what was obviously ‘the other side’ where numerous spirits were seemingly anticipating Iona’s return. For Billy the event should have been a deeply significant, almost religious occasion but once again, Iona’s prosaic remark served to defuse any sense of religiosity.

“Right you guys, question time.”

Billy felt himself struggling to find speech as he wagged his head uncertainly.

“This Iona woman was just so at home with the spirits!” He told himself.

Before he had concluded this observation, Iona was already questioning the spirits while Pangarie listened intently. There were about a dozen questions that Iona asked before the spirits posted their own and poor Billy was left floundering for long moments after the questions finished before he found his own questions to ask. He felt almost embarrassed, as Iona, Pangarie and the spirits attended upon him.

His inherent cultural nature led him to address his clan spirits because he was obviously most at home there, but his questions were inevitably about Iona. He addressed his ancestral mentors.

“This white woman, this Iona, why is she able to cross so easily?”
“The woman has some rare skills and she can pass them to her children only. Pangarie’s children now possess them so treat them as you would any other child of your tribe.”

Billy frowned uncertainly.

“What are these skills.” He asked.

“To know, would put you in danger just as the white woman is in danger – constantly. Safety lies for those who are ignorant and knowledge is a burden for those that know. Ask no more.”

This reply convinced Billy he was going no further with questions about the white woman. He changed tack.

“What of our tribe? Will these things endanger our tribe?”

“No, in the long term it will benefit them, just as it benefits others of other tribes, nations and races.”

“So this thing is universal.” Billy concluded.

“It will be – eventually; yes. Now return to your body and live at peace. We wish to speak with the white woman alone. The girl will go with you; respect her and cherish her so that she may nurture her children.”

Pangarie was a bit dismayed to find that Iona was staying behind but she was philosophical about it. She and Billy awoke to find themselves out of the dream time and back at the campfire-side. As they recovered their composure, they both exchanged glances as they studied Iona’s still comatose body.

“Is she coming back?” Billy asked.

“I think so. She told me she would always be here for the children.”

“Do you know of the dangers that the spirit mentioned?”

“Some of them, but not all. We’ll just have to wait until Iona returns. Let’s go to my house and prepare some food. She’s always hungry when she returns.”

Billy needed no further invitation and they found Pangarie’s mother with Aunty Lucy with food ready but not yet prepared. They quickly set about making a meal.

Back on ‘the other side’ Iona was discussing solutions with the spirits concerning her dangerous situation. What they told her convinced her more and more that she would have to find some sort of ethereal, spiritual solution that would protect her and her offspring.

“So,” Iona surmised, “you believe that a dead person’s spirit can pass into a new-born’s body.”

“Yes Iona, it is the option of the newly released spirit, once it has left the old host’s body, once that host has died.”

“Does the new-born have a choice?”

“The new to be born is not a conscious entity until it receives a spirit. We believe it to be just flesh, blood and bone.”

“So when do you believe the spirit enters the new-born body. Is it during pregnancy, during conception, at birth or after birth, - when?”

“Who knows, who cares?” The spirit replied.

“Who chooses?” Iona finished, - significantly.

The spirit replied with total self-assurance.

“It is always the spirit, unequivocally, the unborn is not a being in our eyes until it gains the spirit. To our tribes the spirit is the being not the flesh and bones.”

Iona could readily follow their logic. The aboriginal tribes believed the spirit could easily be advocated to be the whole element of the essential sentience in a normal human being. Indeed, in monotheist faiths this parallel belief was the driving force that produced zealots in Judaism, crusaders in Christianity and jihadists in Islam. Believers who considered death of their own bodies to be an irrelevance when fighting for their beliefs. But that, for Iona, was the rub.

They were beliefs, nothing more, just beliefs.

‘Oh yes’ Iona concluded, ‘spirits existed’ she had little doubt about that; but the nature of spirits, the essence of their being, their behaviour, the circumstances surrounding their coming and going, their doing and being were factors that forced her to differ from others; and it was her telepathy that led her differ. She felt forced part company with shamans, spiritualists and assorted religious leaders of every hue because she was convinced that her telepathy, the very essence of her ability to cross over, had a definite pathology stemming from the strange ‘flatfish’ organ that Ahmed Patel had found nestled between her cerebellum and her corpus callosum so many years ago.

To Iona, her telepathy was probably the hardest pathological evidence of any physiological connections between her physical body and any spiritual elements that could plausibly be connected the human condition. And yet, paradoxically that very telepathy and it’s physiological connection to the ‘fish organ’ in Iona’s brain clearly implied that body definitely had a higher status than ‘spirituality’ alone could allow.

‘Dust – to – dust’ could not be the body’s raison’d’etre alone. Life was not entirely the spiritual aspect. There was a definite connection between the body and spirit that lent itself to a connection that was either the forces of telepathy or some sort of pathology lying as yet undetected within the brain.

Though Iona was hard-put to conclude that these forces had an entirely electro-magnetic nature; there was definitely something with a physical being because she never forget how her telepathic punch had sent the MRI haywire back in the Liverpool hospital.

Having concluded this, Iona the atheist, felt marginally liberated from the ancient conviction that the spirit was all. If her telepathic being had a physical element that could somehow transcend the spiritual barrier; and most certainly had: then could not her sentience travel with it across to the other side, there to find lodgings, conscious lodgings, in an as yet, unconscious, unborn foetus?

From this deep philosophical brooding, Iona was beginning to see a tiny glimmer of hope. The spirits seemed to be getting restless so Iona decided to conclude the discussion. It seemed her long thoughtful silences disturbed the spirits.

“Have you any more questions?” The aboriginal spirits asked.

“No. Not here, not now. I might have to return but I shall not know until I have asked others on this side. For now I am returning to the living side.”

“Farewell for now then. Take care, your enemies are all around you there. As always, they seek what you have.”

With this warning ringing in her ears, Iona crossed back. Nobody knew better than her what dangers lay in her path.

When Iona recovered from her dream time trance she was surprised to discover that her body was not where she had left it. For several moments her eyes swivelled uncertainly around as she tried to make sense of her location. Nothing was familiar so she cautiously and unsteadily got to her feet. And realised she was in a large barn. As she recovered her senses she immediately telepathed to Pangarie.

“Hell girl. What happened while I was crossed over?”

A distressed Pangarie answered immediately.

“Oh! Thank the spirits you’re back. There were people in the town looking for you and they came to our homestead. Somebody from that incident at the shrine must have talked. We had to hide your sleeping body because they came asking about you. Fortunately Billy helped me to move you far away from the farm. We’ve left a ute in the smaller shed adjoining the barn and there’s plenty of food, water and petrol. You’re about a hundred miles from us so don’t come back until you’re sure it’s safe; and it’s not safe just now. They’re still sniffing around here and in the township.”

Iona cursed softly, she had hoped at least to say goodbye before leaving Pangarie and her children but it wasn’t to be. Pangarie added one last message.

“By the way darling, I’m pregnant again. Don’t know it it’s twins yet or what but it gives the tribe one more weapon if their fight for survival.”

“That’s fantastic darling. Look after yourself and the children. There’s funds aplenty in your trust-fund. I might not see you again in the physical sense but I’ll always be there telepathically for you and the kids.”

Pangarie understood what this meant and a tear forced it’s way to her eye. Even though she would always be able to ‘talk’ she would sorely miss the cuddles and physical companionship.

Having tied up as many ‘loose ends’ as she could, Iona drove off in the Ute. Several days later she arrived in Darwin by a circuitous route and after checking telepathically, she determined that her pursuers were still searching Arnhem land and the Queensland area. They still had not learned of Iona’s possession of her Bahamian registered, twin-engined Piper aircraft. Iona was thankful for the secrecy surrounding ‘off-shore banking’ and ‘off-shore shell companies’ where identities, ownerships and financial funds could be easily hidden.

Four days later she was in New Guinea and a week later she arrived in Manila. There, in the hot bustling metropolis, she was glad to learn that her trail had gone cold again. She debated staying a while and perhaps finding another suitable recipient but the opportunities were few and far between.

There were plenty of opportunities to find a girl but it sickened Iona to learn that most of them where under-aged victims of Manila’s notorious paedophile sex trade. She concluded that the only suitable place would be in or around the university where she could search telepathically for a girl who looked like becoming a victim of a sex-trade gang. Iona was beginning to really understand the benefits of her telepathy. It was simply a matter of waiting and in the crime-ridden culture of Manila, Iona did not have to wait long.

Chapter 12

Trying to get home

Close to the University campus Iona located a gang who specialised in kidnapping respectable girls either for ransom purposes if her family were sufficiently wealthy. or to be trafficked into the sex trade.
Having identified the gang as they loitered around the campus, Iona’s telepathy soon located the gang’s base for operations. It was then a simple matter to hire a super light micro-scooter and disguise herself as a local girl simply by dying her hair, covering up her arms and legs and wearing sun-glasses. By telepathy, she had determined the date and planned location of the kidnapping so it was simply a matter of watching and waiting.

Iona did not even have to hang around as her telepathy revealed the identity of the intended victim.

A very pretty girl had been chosen from a modest, religious background whom the gang had seen snogging another girl on campus. The girl’s obvious lesbianism would give the gang an extra lever to force the girl to comply with their demands. Iona’s surveillance had determined all these issues and she became somewhat angry about their combined, violent, blackmail techniques as she determined the kidnapper’s plan.

On the due date, the van appeared right on time in the narrow street just as the girl was emerging from a side doorway of her small garden wall. She only had to step a few yards down the street and out onto the busy thoroughfare where she anticipated catching her bus. This was but a few yards and the girl had been regularly walking this route since attending university.

Iona was forced to admire the speed and effectiveness of the gang’s modus-operandi for the girl was snatched and bundled into the van in less than five seconds after she had closed the door of her parent’s garden wall.

Well prepared for this event, Iona had installed a ‘dash-cam’ on her scooter and recorded the events from first to last as the gang drove into their compound and carried the now unconscious, drugged girl into their lair. The whole exercise had taken less than ten minutes and all but thirty seconds of those had involved navigating legally and anonymously through the chaotic Manila traffic.

Iona’s next step did not make her feel very good about herself.

She had to leave the poor little lesbian victim to the tender mercies of the gang until the distraught girl really understood the danger she was in and the horrors that awaited her. That moment arrived later the same evening when she was paraded naked before a panel of buyers who had turned up by appointment to bid for her. It was a vicious, latter-day, slave market.

Fortunately, as Iona had previously determined telepathically, it was not a ‘cattle market’. There was only one girl up for sale so Iona knew it was well within her capacity to rescue the poor individual while stopping the gang dead in its tracks.

She waited as the auction went ahead and the successful buyer’s van finally emerged from the gang’s compound with the bound and gagged girl kicking and crying in terror. To follow the van, it was a simple task for Iona to stay several blocks back and even take a differing route for some parts while she tailed the van using her telepathy.

Eventually, the van stopped in a dark, isolated alley outside the back door of a brothel and the buyer stepped out. Precisely as he unlocked the van and slid back the side door, Iona delivered a lethal telepathic punch that killed the criminal instantly. By now, her telepathic abilities enable her to direct her ‘punch’ accurately so as to pick out a single individual in a crowd.

Snatching the keys off the corpse, she drove as quietly as she could to the micro scooter then dragged the that into the back of the van where the girl still lay, bound, gagged and terrified.

Her terrified eyes stared tearfully at the black-clad individual that appeared struggling to haul the scooter into the van. The black-clad figure then turned to the girl and put her finger to her lips to indicate silence as she explained quickly.

“Shhush. We’re not out of it yet. I’ll release you as soon as we’re clear.”

So saying, Iona stepped into the driving seat even as a powerfully built man came pounding out of the back door of the brothel and lunged at the drivers’ door. The terrified girl saw the man’s massive fist smash through the driver’s window and grab at the black-clad figure’s neck. Then just as suddenly, he let out a grunt followed by a choking cry before slithering to the ground. The rear wheel of the van bumped violently over the second corpse then the van sped away with all need of secrecy no longer needed.

The girl cried as the violent bump over the second corpse had caused her to slide and bang her already bruised head against the rear-wheel arch.

After several minutes of driving the van eventually stopped and the black clad figure stepped into the cargo compartment to untie the girl.

“So sorry about the ride darling but you’re free now. I’ve got more work to do. How’s your head?”

The girl was shocked and grateful that the black clad figure was a woman. As she eased herself painfully into the passenger seat she stared uncomprehendingly at her seeming rescuer.

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important just now. I’ve got one more task before I return you to your parents. I sorry if what I have to do might distress you, but I have to do it immediately before the gang disperses. They’re still celebrating their business and your sale.”

“What!” She almost shrieked in fear, “you’re taking me back?”

“Don’t worry young lady! You’re safe. It’s just that I have to hurry to catch the gang still together.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Punish them. You can sit in the van and watch; you’ll be safe.”

The girl frowned nervously so Iona tried to break the chain of fear.

“My name’s Iona, Iona Evans; what’s yours?”

For several moments the girl sat silent before responding fearfully.

“Maria; Maria De Calleo.”

“Well Maria; may I call you Maria? You’ve just been rescued and I am about to punish the gang – permanently!”

“What? Alone? How?”

“You’ll see. Just sit back and watch.”

It had started to rain and Maria fell silent as Iona picked her way through the traffic. They soon arrived at the gang’s compound and Iona parked the van before boldly hammering on the double metal gates. Maria sat watching and listening through the smashed driver’s window as the gates opened and a head popped out. There was a brief exchange of words before the owner of the head emerged to reveal his huge sized. He was obviously the kidnap gang’s ‘enforcer’! and he lunged at Iona.
Maria watched aghast as the black-clad woman stepped back and giant enforcer promptly slumped to the ground. Iona then rolled the body aside with her foot and pushed hard on the metal gates. Maria watched uncomprehendingly as the body twitched and cursed but failed utterly to prevent Iona’s bold entry into the compound. Hidden from Maria’s view, there arose a tremendous commotion behind the compound walls until a few minutes later, Iona re-appeared with two very young, terrified girls.

As she bundled them into the van she explained.

“I found these two locked in a cell. Those vermin run a paedophile network as well.”

“What was going on in there?”

“Oh, a spot of bother. It’s all sorted now.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. But they won’t be bothering children or girls anymore – ever!”

“What did you do?”

“Punish them. One of them was a copper. Why am I not surprised?”

Maria tensed fearfully as she wailed.

“If one of them was a copper, they’ll come gunning for us; well, me at least!”

“Be assured Miss Calleo. They won’t. They are all blind, dumb and deaf, not to mention crippled. You have nothing to fear for they will never make credible witnesses.”

Maria cursed nervously under her breath before asking softly.

“Can I see, I want to be certain.”

“Be my guest but be quick. I’ve got to get these two kids to somewhere safe.”

Maria stepped painfully out of the van because her bruises still hurt and she stepped into the compound to find Iona was absolutely right. The whole gang lay useless on the ground, unable to walk, see, speak or hear. She swallowed nervously and returned in awe to the van.

“You’re right. What did you do to them?”

“As I said, I punished them. That’s one gang of vermin off the streets.

“You would have been kinder to just kill them.”

“And what would that lesson teach the other gangs? Manila is plagued with these gangs. Every neighbourhood seems to have one This way the other gangs are constantly reminded of some inexplicable biblical retribution and that instils fear into their minds. Besides, doesn’t your holy book say ‘Thou shalt not kill’!

“It says ‘Thou shalt not commit murder.’”

“Same difference, either way they are not dead.” Iona shrugged as she picked her way into the night-time traffic.

For long moments a silence descended as Maria digested the night’s events and the two little girls sat silent and terrified. Eventually Iona spoke when the rain stopped and driving became easier.

“So Maria. I suppose I’d better run you home.”

“What about the two little girls?”

Iona sighed.

“I just don’t know yet. I suppose I’ll have to find somewhere safe for them. They were freshly taken even as I was rescuing you.. The trouble is most of the orphanages are involved with the paedophile gangs. This is a god-forsaken place. Even the parents prostitute their own kids, it’s sick!”

Iona turned to Maria.

“Have a chat with them, try and find out where they are from or who they are. They are too frightened to talk to me because they saw me cripple their jailer and then they saw the carnage in the compound. I think they think I’m some sort of devil incarnate.”

“I’ve got news for you Iona – so do I!” Maria whispered hoarsely.

“Well, tomorrow, I’ll stop round at your parent’s house and I’ll explain it to you privately then. For now I’ve got these kids to sort out and it’s getting late. Ahh! Here we are La Maison de Calleo.”

Maria giggled. “Your French is bloody awful but it works. Would you like to stay here tonight, we’ve got the space.”

“I think you’d better ask your parents. Oh, and something else, I’d prefer you not to mention tonight’s events.”

“How the hell can I not do that? In fact that looks like a police car right there.”

“Damn! Okay then, just say I rescued you but don’t mention anything else. Just say you don’t know where they took you but I found you and the girls wandering the streets after a gang fight and you flagged me down, okay.”

“That could work, truth is I don’t exactly know where it was they took me, it’s a bloody maze of streets down there.”

“Best if I simply dump you and the girls here and I bugger off. I can burn the van and escape on the micro-scooter.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“You saw me disable those vermin; don’t you think every government on the planet would want to find out how.”

Maria had a sharp brain and a few second’s thought convinced her.

‘Whatever the girl’s gift was, it was vulnerable to exploitation if she was capable of somehow disabling people.’

She nodded thoughtfully before suggesting.

“Can we meet up tomorrow?”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Yes, where and when?”

“On the main plaza at the university.”

“Agreed,” Replied Iona. “Until tomorrow noon – and no police, okay!”

Iona took Maria’s phone number but did not reciprocate her number. As soon as Maria and the two little girls were set down outside the garden gates, Iona sped off and had disappeared around the corner before they had walked up to Maria’s door. By the time Maria’s hysterical mother and relieved family finally allowed their only daughter to speak, Iona was several blocks away and already looking for a remote spot to burn the van. After finding a place, she removed the micro-scooter from the back and quickly ‘torched’ the vehicle – speeding away once the van was fully ablaze.
Finally content with her night’s work, Iona returned to her hotel and slept until dawn.

Free of all distractions, she lay abed savouring the air conditioning and crisp linen sheets until eventually the clock struck eleven and she was forced to go to her rendezvous outside the university on the main plaza. She was sitting by the fountain when Maria appeared.

Iona looked up, smiled and asked.

“Are the girls okay?”

“Yes they are at home with my mother.”

“What did she say about you bringing them home.”

“She couldn’t really say much; they are evidence and the police asked my mother to take care of them until the case is resolved. The trouble is they haven’t got much to go on. I’ve still got no idea where that gang hang out.”

“I’ll tell you later but first we need to talk.”

“What about?”

“Me mainly. And whether you can keep a secret.”

“What sort of secrets? It’s not illegal is it?”

“In as of itself; no, but some might construe what I do with it is.”

“Like disabling that gang.”

“Yes. Some might consider it excessive; others might consider what I did as justified. The fact I did it is bound to raise questions and those questions might alert government agencies as to where I am. If they come looking for me, I’ll have to move on again.”

Maria’s sharp brain ticked away and she was forced to ask -.

“What did you do to them?”

“I crippled them, all of them. I also blinded them, deafened them and muted them so they can never bear witness. They will never be able to harm you again because I warned them if a hair on your head was harmed, I would return to inflict permanent agony on their bodies until they died after living their full terms. Believe me Maria, the message has already spread around the criminal underworld. You will not be harmed! Even the police won’t touch you.

“Have they found the gang yet?”

“No. They are all stuck in their compound unable to move or shout.”

“That’s what bothers me. How did you do that?”

“I’ll only tell you if you do me a big favour and promise to keep my secret.”

“Which is?”

“Ah-ah. Promise first.” Iona grinned but behind the friendly posture, she was deadly serious.

“Oh all right then, I promise.”

“Promise what?” Iona insisted.

“Oh for goodness sakes! What’s all the fuss about?”

“It’s deadly serious Maria, you must promise never to reveal what I tell you or show you.”

“Tsk! All-right then, I promise never to reveal; or talk about anything you do or show or tell me. Gosh you are a cagey girl.”

Iona had scanned Maria’s brain and concluded the girl could keep secrets. Maria had, after all, kept her lesbianism a secret within the family despite the family pressure to have their only daughter get married; or at least find a boyfriend.

Additionally, Iona had now resigned herself to the reality that her telepathy was becoming known to more and more people; who, even though friendly, could and probably would, one day slip up. Eventually some government agency would find her and capture her while she was sleeping or resting her telepathy.
She decided that she would follow the Aboriginal spirit’s beliefs about reincarnation and make her ‘crossing over’ a reincarnated reality. Firstly however she had to find a suitable foetus; one with male-pattern telepathy, and able to allow Iona’s telepathic spirit to relocate in that foetus’s brain.

Her immediate issue though, was to enlighten Maria as to how she had disabled the kidnappers.
A cautious scan had already ascertained that Maria was an intelligent lesbian who kept her lesbian secrets very tight to her chest. A second scan had ascertained there were no police following Maria on the basis that Maria might be tangled somehow with the gang. She settled beside Maria on one of the seats facing the fountain then gently took Maria by the hand before broaching the painful subject.

Maria looked at her expectantly before whispering.

“So, Miss Iona, what is this awful secret?”

“This no joke Maria, it is deadly serious. After I have told you, you will understand why you are totally safe. Then we can then go for a brief visit back to the kidnappers compound? They are still there because they still cannot move or talk. Again I must emphasise that no harm will come to you. When you can see you are in no danger; you can advise the police okay?”

Maria nodded affirmation and Iona slowly revealed her secret. After telling Maria, the girl nodded her head slowly as the implications sank in. She asked several questions and Iona answered them before standing up.

“Come on then, I’ll take you to the compound.”

They hailed a taxi and dropped off a couple of blocks away from their destination. Maria shuddered as she recognised the area.

“This is a very bad area. Are your sure we are safe?”

“Perfectly Miss De Calleo. Watch this.”

Across the street couple of stray dogs were standing off and snarling at each other in some fight concerning a bone. As the fight escalated into violence, Iona immobilised both of them with a telepathic punch and not for the first time, Maria gasped disbelievingly. This time she had seen and felt the punch for Iona had allowed her to sense the force. It had not hurt her for Iona had been selective but it reinforced Iona’s message and convinced Maria beyond any doubt.

“Come on then,” Iona finished, “we can walk the last few blocks from here.”

Maria glanced around uncertainly as several pairs of eyes studied them. She could see the speculative anticipation in those eyes and she stuck closer to Iona as Iona explained.

“Don’t be afraid of them. They are just everyday street trash. They are probably wondering why the kidnap gang are not around to enforce their domination. Come on, it’s only another block.”

Maria now recognised the back door to the brothel compound and cast about nervously as Iona opened the door and stepped nonchalantly inside.

“Don’t be afraid, they can’t harm you, look.”

Maria re-affirmed that the gang were still silently wriggling and twitching helplessly on the compound floor as Iona took her hand.

“There, as you can see, you are safe. Now let’s go, once we are a few blocks away, you can phone the police. If they ask how you remembered, just say you had some post traumatic flashbacks as you were going to college.”

They left the compound and as soon as they returned to the college, Maria phoned the police.
Her story was accepted eagerly by the police who were happy to ignore the bizarre circumstances that enabled them to declare that their fight against kidnapping and paedophile prostitution was showing results. When Maria was questioned about her escape she stuck to her story that there was some sort of gang fight with chemicals or gas or something in the compound and she managed to escape with the little girls in the confusion. She had not heard or seen any gunfire.

With a notorious gang off the streets, the police were happy to close the case and by the time it came to court, Maria was pregnant by Iona. The pregnancy initially estranged Maria from her pious parents; but eventually she was reconciled to her parents when their only daughter provided them with two beautiful, telepathic grandchildren.

When she told them the father was her rescuer from the kidnap gang, her parents were confused but mollified because that same generous stranger had initially supplied plenty of funds for the parents to adopt both the young rescued girls. Now, as Maria brought her own telepathic babies home from the maternity hospital, she was able to inform her parents that the same rescuer had provided even more generous funds to support their new grandchildren into adulthood and beyond.

By the time Maria’s family had the come to appreciate their good fortune; the provider was long gone. Only Maria knew who the father was and that her son and daughter were telepaths. This was exactly what Iona had planned for.

In the final days of her stay in Manila, an offshore company located in the Caribbean area landed a newly registered private plane and it flew via Vietnam, India, Afghanistan, and Kazakhstan to Turkey. There the pilot took a train to Eastern Europe where she met with several individuals by prearrangement.

Mindful 2
Chapter 13
Reincarnation. (Of sorts)

The mass migrations that had recently started to manifest themselves throughout Eastern Europe, proved to be an excellent conduit for any individual, legitimate or illegal to enter modern-day Europe. Iona found herself sharing trains jammed solid with migrants as she travelled from Istanbul, to Belgrade to Vienna and finally Berlin. Once while travelling alone on a slow train between Belgrade and Vienna, she detected an unsavoury mind that was contemplating robbing her. A telepathic scan had confirmed he was an Islamic Jihadist and part of a small,
but determined movement to enter Europe and spread terror.

She had already determined that he carried a knife and was prepared to use it so she prepared herself for the attack. That proved to be the one occasion she was forced to defend herself. As the train lumbered into a tunnel the attacker tied to hide the nature of his attack when the train lurched unexpectedly to a stop. In the confusion, as passengers lost their balance, he lurched forward from his seat and attempted to rip her shoulder bag off her arm.

Well inured to death by now, Iona had simply tele-punched him and left him lying dead at her feet. When the train emerged from the tunnel she pretended to be distraught at finding a ‘poor migrant’ lying dead on the carriage floor having seemingly suffered from sort of heart attack or stroke.

With deaths being a fairly common occurrence amongst the many sick and war-weary refugees, the conductor simply arranged to have the body removed at the next stop and the train went blithely on it’s way. Iona alighted in Vienna after the briefest of interviews by the authorities. Their verdict as diagnosed by the police doctor was – death caused by brain haemorrhage.
After arriving in Berlin Iona set about searching for a very specific type of accommodation. Telepathic divinations had predetermined that a widowed mother and her teen-aged daughter ran a small inn deep in the Black forest area of Southern Bavaria. Both mother and daughter liked to dabble with what they believed to be the ‘dark side, and Iona’s examinations of their beliefs led her to understand that the pair might be amenable to Iona’s special needs when it came to her ‘crossing-over’.

Having reserved her en-suite room in the picturesque inn, Iona set about contacting her old friend Doctor Mary Evans. From the Bavarian forest, the seven hundred miles to London was well within Iona’s extended telepathic range of over ten thousand miles. It was an easy step to reach Mary in London. From her bedroom she started scanning the South of England.

In such a small area (relatively speaking in telepathic terms,) Iona readily located her old friend and Doctor Mary was stunned to get a ‘call’ one evening as she was preparing food for her and her daughter Rebecca.
She almost dropped the knife as the delightfully familiar tendrils seeped into her brain.

“My God! Iona! Is that you?”

“It is indeed Doctor Mary. How’s tricks? How are the children Ben and Rebecca?”

“They’re fine darling. Ben’s got a job in the television media and Rebecca’s in her final year of internship studying medicine. Rebecca will be home soon from the university hospital.”

“That’s good news, does Ben ever see Sandra?”

“Of course he does, if you stayed in touch you’d know.”

Iona smiled to herself before riposting.

“If I “stayed in touch” as you put it, I’d know lots of things; like the inside of some sort of psychiatric prison.”

“Yes, and like the fact that Ben’s married a wonderful girl and there’s going to be the patter of little feet soon. Sandra is delighted for she and her daughter in law really hit it off.”

Iona did a double take and sat momentarily stunned as her mind went into overdrive. Based upon her conclusions in Australia concerning ‘aboriginal re-incarnation; this was a golden opportunity for her spirit to transcend the dream time and re-enter another suitably telepathic host. The problem was that her western conscience made her feel that, by occupying an unborn foetus brain, she was somehow ‘body-snatching’. She needed to visit the dream times again and meet with other spirits.

Mary sat patiently drinking her tea and laying the table ready for Rebecca’s return from work. She waited by the dining table apartment while Iona mulled things over. Eventually, Mary’s patience ran out.

“Are you still there darling?”

“Wha – what! Oh yes. I’m just getting used to the thought of my becoming a grandparent.”

“Yes, well you’ll probably be delighted to also learn that they’re having twins. It seems that Ben has inherited all your telepathic gifts except the punch thing.
He determined their sexes even before the doctors with all their Cat scanners and MR. I’s. And before you ask, yes it’s a son and daughter. Isn’t that a surprise,” she added ironically.

“That’s fantastic! Listen darling, I’ll call you again in a couple of days. I’m going to be tied up on the other side of the dream time until then. There’s a couple of things I want to sort out.”

“The dream time - What’s all that about?”

“I’ll explain in a few days. Please bear with me.”

The telepathic link closed and Mary sighed resignedly. - ‘Iona never could stay still for long’.

As she checked the meal she had been preparing, her daughter Rebecca arrived home. She had picked up the male type - telepathic vibrations while travelling home on the bus, but her female telepathy had been out of range to join the chat. Mary called out happily.

“Hi darling, had a good day?”

“Yes thanks mum. What did Ben have to say?”

“It wasn’t Ben; it was your dad.”

“Wha-at!! Oh my God! Where is she.”

“She’s in Germany and she’ll be calling again in a few days. I’m thinking it will be Saturday or Sunday, she said she was too busy and incommunicado for a while.”
“Does Ben know?”

“She didn’t mention Ben but she’s pleased about the babies. I think they are chatting now as we speak. Are you coming to see the happy couple on the weekend? Will your shifts allow?”

“If dad is connecting, try stopping me! It’s been years!”

Mary smiled somewhat philosophically.

“Yes, your dad’s not the best at keeping in touch. It will be interesting to find out what she’s been up to.”

“Making babies, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Amen to that. Ben told me only a few weeks after he got married that there was a young native American guy calling himself Leaping Cat who suddenly broke though to him. They chatted briefly but the kid got tired easily and had to break off. Apparently you’ve got half siblings all over America.”

Rebecca grinned as she ate.

“I know about Leaping Cat and his sister Kitten. Ben and I are arranging a trip to the USA to see them. I shouldn’t wonder that Rachael and Natasha won’t be there.
As to having other half siblings they’re all over the whole world I shouldn’t wonder and now’s about the time the boys will be reaching puberty and able to build the web. Leaping Cat is just the precursor.”

“Are you excited darling?”

“You bet mummy! I’ve been itching for this day to come.”

“Well eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

----0000----

After closing the link to Mary, Iona called her son Ben briefly to explain about the forthcoming weekend.

Naturally, Ben was a surprised as his aunty Mary to suddenly get a call from his dad.

“Well, well! What’s up Dad, is there a meteor about to strike the earth or something? Is there about to be another plague – a huge tsunami or something? Where the heck have you been?”

“Yeah, sorry about the absence son. Real life gets in the way sometimes.”

“Sometimes!!” It’s been years, I was getting ready to believe you really were dead this time!”

“I said I’m sorry darling. I’ve been in Australia and China and India.”

“Making babies I suppose.”

“Well, yes – but other stuff as well. I’ve been researching other aspects of our shared gift. Oh and talking of babies, Mary told me congratulations are in order.”

“Yes dad! You might be pleased to know that I’m married and due to become a father. But what would you care about that?”

“I’m truly sorry Ben; I really am but as I said, real life gets in the way. I still get the odd vibe that they are still looking for me.”

“Well I don’t, at least – not from America, and neither does Emma or Jackie.

Jackie’s friend, Pete the Sherriff made a few discreet inquiries and it seems the Americans have decided the prize is not worth the risk.”

“Very wise of them,” Iona declared. “I wish the idiots in London would show the same common sense.”

“So do I. I must confess to feeling the odd vibe in London as well.”

“Well I’ve got a strategy that might end it once and for all, but I need to run it by you, Rebecca and your mothers.”

“Go on.” Ben sounded intrigued.

“I’ll explain on the weekend. Ask Sandra, Mary and your sister Rebecca to meet up and I’ll chat then, - oh! and of course your new wife. What’s her name?

“Lucy. She’ll be fascinated to learn I’ve still got a father, and even more pleased to learn her children will have four grand-parents. Lucy’s big on family.”

“Okay, okay! Enough of the resentment please. I’ve said I’m sorry, it was not my choice to be hounded by British intelligence for the rest of my life. If you want to do something helpful, drop by Whitehall and do some eves-dropping. Find out if I’m still high priority.”

Ben agreed and on that reconcilliary note, they closed the link.

In the little family run Berlin hotel, Iona explained to the family that she would be sleeping for a few days. Both mother and daughter exchanged significant looks and Iona looked up from the hotel register as she entered her details. She had scanned their minds and determined that they had their suspicions about some connection to ‘the dark side’. Realising that the pair were at least receptive to the ideas of ‘the other side’ even if they had no clue about ‘raising spirits’ and such like. Indeed both mother and daughter, whilst sincere, were virtual innocents abroad.

Iona put them right on a few things.

“I have to let you know I chose your hotel because I know about you dabbling in the dark arts.”

Both mother and daughter turned deathly pale but Iona quickly reassured them.

“Don’t worry, this is not the middle ages, and they don’t burn people at the stake. Nor am I the witch-finder general; so you can stop worrying right now.”

Both mother and daughter sagged with relief as Iona explained.

“I will be crossing over for a brief period but it will be two or three days when viewed from this side. I will be lying in a trance as though nearly dead but fear not. I have been into the woods behind your inn and picked some herbs to make a special tea. I shall brew the tea now and will you please have the tea ready when I wake up?”
The pair stared nervously and disbelievingly so Iona decided to use telepathy.

She had already decided on how she was finally going to escape from her British pursuers and shortly it would not matter who knew about her telepathy.

Her spirit would be safely ensconced in the telepathic brain of her unborn grandchild while her mortal remains would be a scorched, bloodied mess spread over the steps of the MI5 building on the banks of the Thames. Clear evidence to all those who did not know of her re-incarnation, that the individual who had defended herself so determinedly against her pursuers had finally found a solution. The hunt and the fight was over. The corpse and the attached ‘suicide note’ would finally convince the agents that their quarry was dead. DNA from Iona’s twin sister Megan would provide the final proof.

It only remained to convince her family that this was a safe and proper thing to do. Iona hoped the weekend meeting would do that.

Back in the hotel, after Iona had revealed her telepathy, the invariable request from the teenaged daughter emerged from the conversation.

Gretchen and her mother begged for Iona to give Gretchen a telepathic child.

Now resigned to the forthcoming end, Iona agreed. Gretchen conceived that very afternoon. Iona’s telepathic seed was nothing if not virile and durable.

With this done, Gretchen’s mother was more than keen to help Iona prepare the tea for when she returned from the cross-over. Iona’s telepathy had already established the honesty and sincerity of the woman and she was happy to boil the herbs.

That evening as Iona crossed over, Gretchen and her mothers were fascinated as they watched Iona enter her trance then they agreed to keep a watching vigil for the next three days.
----0000----

Crossing over had become almost a routine event for Iona and she almost fell out of ‘the wall’ as she entered ‘the other side’ somewhat suddenly.
To her delight and surprise, ‘He-that-Sees’ was seemingly sat by a fire that Iona did not recognise as a typical camp-fire. Beside him sat an Aboriginal spirit who identified himself as Pangarie’s father. ‘He-that-sees’ tipped over backwards off the log as Iona burst into their midst.

“Whoa! Steady on girl! That’s no way to cross over!” He-that-sees protested as he rubbed his nether regions.

“So sorry!” Iona apologised profusely as she turned to Pangarie’s father’s spirit.
I presume you have raised up out of your limbo. Is you name the same as your old one?”

“Only if I choose it to be. Some spirits keep their old name, some change it, and yes, I have risen out of my limbo,” the spirit replied, “and I thank you for Pangarie’s children. Our tribe has a surer future now. Now what brings you over in such haste?”

“I need some answers to some difficult questions. I don’t know if they are moral questions or cultural ones or spiritual ones.”

“Ha!” He-that-sees snorted. “Every time you cross over, you give us questions. This telepathy of yours has shaken the spirit world to the very foundations. You come and go like the buffalo on the plains.”

It suddenly dawned on Iona that for He-that-sees, to be sitting there so comfortably, he must have died and passed over. She asked him.

“You sit there like a sage amongst the spirits, have your mortal remains turned to dust?”

“Of course they have. After you gave me Kitten and Leaping cat and their gifts, I could cross over with equanimity. My daughter is the Shaman now and she also practices as a doctor in a large teaching hospital in Nevada.”

“Oh. I must contact her when I cross back, to offer my condolences.”

He-that-sees and Pangarie’s father both let out loud laughs.

“Don’t be so dumb Iona! Who needs condolences? Dawn and Pangarie can cross over with ease thanks to your interventions. They can speak with us whenever they want or need. Death means nothing and it is not some sort of irredeemable loss now that they – and you mind – can cross over so easily.”

Iona thought hard about this before asking.

“Have I somehow broken the fabric? You know, knocked down the wall as it were?”

“By the spirits! NO girl. You are just a facilitator to those that know and understand.”

Iona nodded but she was still nervous about her next question.

“What I intend to do to protect the rest of my life on the other side, is a very questionable act and I need both your advice plus the consents of those that are most affected, spiritually that is. Can I bring those people over to this side so that we may discuss it”

“Who are they?”

“My family, particularly the mother and father of my grandchild as yet unborn. But also others who will be emotionally affected.”

He-that-sees, not for the first time, gave Iona emotional support.

“We know what you plan and yes, it is very unusual – but then you are an unusual prodigy. You are wise to involve others, especially those you mention. Bring them over, it is easier for you to bring them here than for the spiritual counsel to come cross the other side.”

Iona double checked.

“Are your spirits able to help me carry them over, there are perhaps a dozen who have the right to decide.”

“One spirit or a million spirits, it makes no difference. Prepare them with the herbs I once showed you, our daughters can help you gather them.”

“How will they get the herbs to Britain? Customs and plant inspectors are getting fussier every day?”

“Split the group up and have them travel some to America, some to Australia, some to India and some to Germany. Fatima, Pangarie, Dawn and Gretchen will assist you with each group.”

Iona shook her head as she tried to countenance the logistics. Firstly she had to enlighten everybody about the spirit world and the dream-time portal that she favoured. Then she had to spread her services like a spiritual omnibus to get everybody across together. Once again she double checked with her spirit mentors.

“Is this going to work?” Couldn’t we do it all from one location Like Ben and Lucy’s apartment in London?”

“Have you enough herbs to make sufficient teas?” Pangarie’s father asked.

Iona shook her head. The best and freshest herbs were to be found in Australia, India and Nevada. Hot climates provided for more potent concentrations. Finally, after more discussions, the arose, sighed, then ‘kissed’ both spirits before returning to Germany and the small Bavarian inn.

It took a month to organise visas, flights and hotels before the mass-cross-over was enabled. Some of the participants had to be educated, particularly Lucy, the mother of the child quickening in her womb. To this end, Iona took her across twice just to convince her of the spirit world that existed ‘on-the-other-side’. Lucy was a ‘dyed-in-the-wool’ atheist and she even had trouble using the words ‘spirit world’

“I’d prefer to describe it as ‘the other dimension’, she confessed to Iona.

“And what would you call the sentients whom I recognised and identified to you?”

“Well ‘He-that-sees’ serves as a Native American name but why call the second spirit ‘Pangarie’s dad?”

“Because He has only just returned from limbo and he has not chosen a body to be reincarnated with his spirit. He will accept the name that the child’s parents give him – or her! Alternatively, he might just choose to stay back for as long as it takes then let the forces of chance dictate his new form. There are so many alternatives available it depends a lot on the previous culture the spirit lived in.
Who am I to judge or question?” Iona finished cryptically.

Lucy nodded slowly as she began to grasp the countless nuances of the ‘other dimension’ as she still felt forced to call it. She still had difficulties attaching any religious significance to the whole idea. Fortunately, Iona, Pangarie’s Father and ‘He-that-sees’ were comfortable with her perspectives.

After two ‘cross-overs’ and much education, Lucy prepared for the mass crossing. To this end, she joined Iona with Ben and Dawn, the Indian Shaman to commence their ‘cross-over’ from ‘He-that-sees’ old cave in Nevada.
Mary, Sandra and Rebecca joined Gretchen in Bavaria, Fatima joined them from her school -cum-clinic in Colcotta and Pangarie travelled alone from her tribal shrine in Arnhem Land. From China, Hon Li and Lee Bin crossed over while Maria crossed alone from Manila in the Philippines.

Despite her having been the main facilitator, Iona was still overawed when she finally met the ‘assembled spirits’. As she finally stumbled dizzily across the ‘threshold’ for the last time, with Mara in tow, He-that-sees’ spirit and Pangarie’s father’s spirit congratulated her on her achievement.

Iona slumped exhausted on a log that Dawn had thoughtfully set aside for her.

“Should a spirit feel exhausted and should a spirit need somewhere to sit?” Iona asked herself as she drew long breaths to recover.

He-that-sees spoke kindly.

“Your spirit is a human spirit Iona. It’s connected to your body even now despite having crossed out of it. That weariness is a spiritual weariness as well as a bodily one.”

Iona nodded as she sagged on the log with her head hanging down on her breasts. Dawn reached out to hold her as she slowly recovered her composure while ‘He -that - see’s’ brought the meeting to order.

“This meeting is come about because of the many different cultural and spiritual natures among you that have yet all shared in Iona’s largess. Am I right in believing that all here have been made happy with Iona’s attendance upon your lives?”

There was a loud rumble of approval that resembled a religious congregation answering a holy-man’s question; which, to some extent, it was.

He-that-see’s then handed over to a weary Iona to explain what the meeting was about, namely the spirit of a dead person, (in this case Iona) entering the un-quickened foetus in a mother’s womb and thereby bringing life to that foetus in the spiritual sense.
After she had explained the ramifications, there were numerous questions about how and when a foetus became a human-being mostly stemming from the ones who hailed from monotheist cultures.

Eventually, all came to accept that a foetus growing within a mother’s womb was really only endowed with spirituality and therefore life, as and when the spirit entered that collection of blood, flesh and bones. How that spirit got there and when that spirit got there was a matter of conjecture for all external but interested parties. Heretofore, the timing was always been deemed an unconscious consequence the spirit’s nature.
It was only with the advent of telepathy and a telepath’s passed spirit seemingly having a conscious choice, that the matter had become an issue of debate.
Eventually a consensus was reached and with little acrimony because every one there had shared in Telepathy and therefore understood that the finality of death was no longer a spiritual dead end.
With this revelation removing many of the uncertainties associated with monotheist beliefs about ‘life-after-death’, there was very little left to distress or concern monotheists.

When votes were cast, dissenters were virtually nil.

“He – that - see’s, having seen or hear almost no dissenters, put the question like the holy man at the wedding.

“Are there any here that have any last questions?”

Several questions were put, mostly by those knew little or nothing about crossing over to the other side. The questions were mostly concerning the possibilities of repeating ‘crossing over’ in the future. He-that-sees’ put the questions to Iona who answered as best she could and finally the counsel closed with the spirits, present and past concurring.

Eventually, the assembly dispersed and Iona was once again drafted into facilitator duties as each of the attendees returned to the living side.

At the end of the session, she finally returned to the inn in Bavaria where she collapsed on the bed and slept for two days. The last hurdle to her solution had been cleared.

Having decided now to end her existence as a ‘flesh-and-bones’ being, Iona could throw caution to the winds. She had a month or so to sort out as many issues as she could, then she would cross over for the last time as close to the parturition of Ben and Lucy’s twins as she could allow.

Now that she was openly crossing borders and revisiting England frequently, her trail soon became apparent to MI6.
However, her telepathy detected them easily anywhere within the European borders, so she played ‘cat-and-mouse’ with them for her own enjoyment.
When she detected them assembling to try and catch her by any means available she simply delivered a telepathic punch and disabled them with alarming ease. In one instance, she was out doing the tourist trail with Sandra and her twin sister Megan when she detected a sniper skulking on the top of the Queen Elizabeth centre just as the three of them were emerging from Westminster Abbey.

A frantic telepathic scan confirmed that the man was preparing to fire at Iona from what he thought was an invisible position. Iona turned to her companions and carefully whispered instructions to avoid a public panic.

“Hey-up girls, they’re trying it on again. Get behind the memorial pillar until I’ve dealt with this. Not too quickly, we don’t want to cause a panic, or draw attention to ourselves.”

Well inured now to Iona’s abilities, Sandra and Megan sauntered slowly behind the memorial until Iona assure them they were out of sight from the sniper. Then she stepped briskly out into full view causing the sniper to bring his rifle up to his shoulder as quickly as he dared. As she continued at a brisk pace towards the Queen Elizabeth building, Iona forced the sniper to lean forward and point down towards the forecourt. When she judged his unstable posture to be just right, she released a telepathic blast that caused him to slump forward unconscious onto the windowsill and thus let go of his rifle.

The weapon crashed down onto the steps below and the impact caused the heavy calibre round to be fired. Two passers-by felt the bullet zip past them and crash into some marble stonework, not more than a couple of feet from their heads. Splinters of marble scattered everywhere and pandemonium ensued. Armed police patrolling the square immediately recognised a rifle shot.
As police dashed forward from all directions, Iona rushed to attend to the shocked passers-by.

“Is anybody hurt?” She shouted, as loud as she could to attract attention to herself.

The two tourists struggled to their feet and the woman had some splinter grazes on her face. As the blood began to show Iona made a big fuss of producing some tissues to wipe her face as the first police officer can racing up.

“Are you alright?” He asked as his eyes scanned nervously around.

“She’s obviously not alright!” Iona replied sarcastically. “Look! That’s a bloody bullet hole! Here love use some more tissues!” She turned again to the sobbing tourist.”

“Did anybody see anything?”

“Yes!” Iona snapped. “There’s the gun down behind those railings and there’s the bloody bastard who fired it!”

The armed police officer stared aghast at the sniper’s rifle then his eyes followed Iona’s finger pointing up to the roof, where the sniper was still leaning over the windowsill.

“Did you see it?”

“Of course I bloody saw it! He was sort of crouched by that window and doing something with his gun. Then he put it to his shoulder and then he seemed to trip or something and he dropped the gun.
It went off by this woman and the splinters from this stone panel caught her face. I was crossing the road and saw some of it.”

“Why didn’t you shout when you saw the gun?”

“I thought he was a window cleaner or some sort of maintenance. I didn’t recognise the gun until it fell! – And then only after it went off.”

By now the police were everywhere and an ambulance team that was permanently stationed in Parliament Square, were attending the woman

“Can you wait here please?” The officer asked Iona. “My colleague will take a statement.”

Iona nodded, shrugged and pointed out her companions but did not identify them.

“I’ll sit over there on that park seat; where those people are gathered.”

“Thank you. Have you any ID.”

“Yes, I think so. I was just visiting the abbey, sight-seeing.”

She opened her handbag and rooted through the usual accoutrements to produce a false ID before joining Sandra and Megan by the memorial stone.

Sandra stared at her disbelievingly.

“Bloody hell Ion’s! You’ve got some spunk!”

“No worry’s babes. I gave them a fake ID. We’ll be gone after I give them a statement and before they get around to checking it. Look at them, they’re like flies around shit!”

Megan grinned as she studied the melee of uniforms then her grin faded as a senior policewoman walked towards them.

“Good afternoon ladies, which one of you witnessed the incident.”

“Me.” Iona replied.

“Thank you, can you describe what happened?”

Iona did so and eventually they were free to leave. The left separately then they eventually met again with Mary and Rebecca in a café in Soho, the news was all over London.

“I think I saw you on the TV but you were difficult to recognise. You’ve got this ID thing off to a Tee!” Mary observed.

Iona ran her fingers through her light brown wig and smiled.

“D’ you think it suites me?”

“You be careful! They’ve got facial recognition cameras in lots of places these days. You’d be better off with coloured contact lenses instead of those tinted glasses.” Megan warned. “Though the glasses help to cover your cheek bones and nose. On second thoughts, stay with the big frame glasses.

Eventually, they dispersed and Iona took the opportunity to stay with Mary and her daughter Rebecca in Mary’s apartment.
For a change, Rebecca created the telepathic matrix in the flat and Iona savoured the luxury of telepathy with no personal effort. Rebecca did all the work.

“A girl could grow to like this,” Iona observed. “Does it take much effort?” She asked Rebecca,

“Less than Ben or you use, but we only reach short distances, I suppose you guys use up more to reach those long distances.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Iona conceded. “I get tired just holding the ring if there are lots of people.”

“Aaah. The beauty of girl power,” Rebecca grinned. “The more of us there are, the easier it is and the better the communications.”

“Bloody gossips, that’s all you are.” Iona chided with a big grin.

“Your only jealous because you’re a girl with boy telepathy.” Rebecca chuckled.

“Yeah, you might have a point there,” Iona mused thoughtfully.

Because of the hectic events of the day, they were all tired and instead of cooking a meal, Iona sent out for some ‘take-aways’. The evening ended with some more girly chat and Iona eventually ended up sharing Mary’s bed.

The next morning Rebecca joined them on the bed as she switched on the news. The report of the rifle attack in Parliament square was dominating the news. One issue being discussed was the identity of the main witness who had given a brief statement and a false identity to the police then disappeared. The authorities had issued a request for the woman to come forward.

Rebecca turned to her father and asked if she was prepared to declare herself, now that she had decided to re-incarnate.

Iona explained angrily.

“The bastards tried to kill me darling. They still haven’t given up. I’m going to give them the biggest political problem of their lives.”

Rebecca fell silent as she read her father’s mind.

“Are you seriously going to do that?”

“Do what,” begged Mary.

“She’s going to die on the steps of MI6 and make a big public spectacle.” Rebecca confirmed.

“Oh my God. You can’t do that!”

“Why not. I’ll do the same as Jan Palach did in Prague during the Prague spring.”

“But think of the horror! – The pain!” Mary cried.

“The moment I ignite the fuel I’ll cross over and I won’t feel the pain”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ve perfected crossing over now, I don’t need drugs or trances to do it. One of the privileges of telepathy darling.”

“My God dad! Do really intend to do that?”

“Yes. My passing over will appear to be a suicidal immolation but in reality I’ll be out of this body and transferring to your unborn niece’s brain even as Lucy commences parturition.”

Mary cursed softly while Rebecca stared fixedly at her dad. As a fellow telepath she could understand the frustration and anger her father had endured ever since the security authorities in Britain had learned of Iona’s abilities. She wagged her head tearfully as the visceral reaction tore at her guts while the idea took root in her mind.

Her dad was passing over anyway when Lucy’s baby was born so why not make a loud, bold and forceful statement!

“Are you sure it won’t hurt Dad?”

“Or hurt anybody else.” Added Mary.

As sure as I can be.” Iona replied. “I’m pretty sure of that.”

My grandchild is due in a couple of days so I’ll away and prepare today. Get all the necessary stuff ready then immolate myself when Lucy goes into hospital.”

Mary could not prevent a tear escaping but Rebecca appeared to be made of sterner stuff. Essentially because she could understand the arguments better than her mother.

“Dad will still be with us and it’s not really like ‘body-snatching’. That’s only the monotheist, cultural thing.”

For the rest of that day, Iona made preparations and by the following day she had a working device. She slept again with Mary that night, mainly to give her comfort by embracing her and cuddling her.

“I’ll still be here darling in mind and body because Lucy’s daughter will be me.”

“Will you be able to communicate with us, once the baby is born? You know – with telepathy.”

“Yes, of that I’m certain. My grandchild will take the same time as a ‘normal’ child to develop motor skills and stuff but I’m pretty sure I’ll be sentient soon after my rebirth. The only thing I can’t be certain of is if I’ll have my male old abilities; you know, the telepathic punch and stuff. As for the rest of the telepathy, well – this is a telepathic first and, as far as the sprit world knows, the first conscious transfer of a spirit into a new-born. I’m hoping the telepathy part will be intact throughout my grandchild’s birth.”

Mary nodded and stole a final reassuring hug.

The following morning, Iona got a telepathic call from Ben.

“Lucy’s started labour pains, you’d better get prepared.”

The three telepaths gathered together a web and the whole of Iona’s family were connected worldwide. Lucy’s labour was being monitored telepathically to enable Iona to choose the ideal moment to cross.

As the morning sun filtered through the trees lining the River Thames, a plumpish woman in a burkah was plodding painfully along Millbank when she stopped to adjust her hijab. Suddenly, the burka erupted into flames just as the body collapsed to the floor. Before anybody could do anything about it, the black bundle was a flaming fireball just outside the imposing entrance of the large building that housed MI6.

One of the staff who had just entered the building, rushed out with a fire extinguisher but it was all too late.
The contents of the fireball was fed by a napalm based substance and in minutes there was little left to identify the corps. When rescuers were finally able to douse the flames, they discovered that there was plenty of evidence of identity secured in a fire-proof box that the incinerated corpse had secured to her scorched hand. There was even a suicide note.

Additionally there were hours of video evidence captured on the dozens of smart phones and street cameras that covered the area all the way along the street and the Thames embankment. Iona had delivered her last and most telling message.

Meanwhile, in a maternity ward little more than a mile away, a young mother was safely delivered of her telepathic twins, - a son who cried mightily and a quieter daughter with a certain twinkle in her eye.

THE END.