*** Author’s note.   This started out as a Whateley Fanfic, but I decided that there’s just too much baggage there.   So this is going to be a new superhero setting that I make up as I need. ***

So, this is how it all started.   Beth made me promise to put this all down.   Here it is.   When I push deep into my memories like this, it becomes really immersive.   At least I won’t miss anything.   Now here we go.   

How I became…   me.

***

“Pap, can we pull over?”   The nausea was really bad today.   My stomach wouldn’t calm down.   The interstates tend not to have the rolling hills, but this long in a car makes it really hard to keep breakfast down.   Temodar is a wonderful drug, but I hate it.   I hate how it makes me feel.   

“Hold on, son.   We’re almost to the Rest Area.”   Pap reached over and patted me on the back.   I had my head at the edge of the window of the van.   Just in case.

Pap got off at the rest area and pulled into a handicapped spot.   I got out and almost made it to the trashcan.   It was bad.   

You’d think after already having cancer twice before, you’d get used to things like chemo.   

You never get used to chemo.   

I’m sixteen years old and this is my third and last fight with cancer.   Yeah.   This is my last go around.   I give up.   Pap doesn’t know, and he sure as hell hasn’t.   Two weeks ago, the docs told me I have about anywhere from three to six months to live.   Most likely.   If I live a year it would literally be a miracle.   This time it’s brain cancer, and I’m tired of being sick.   I’m tired of hurting.   I’m just really tired of everything.   I only keep taking the meds for Pap.   He’d notice if I stopped.

The increased blood flow to my head triggers another Headache (yeah, with a capital H), and I just drop to my knees in my mess.   The jackhammer metronome in my head is going off again and all I can do is just sob.   I roll onto my side and hold my head as the pain fills my world.   I dimly hear some voices, but nothing makes it through the pain.

***

The room is dark, Pap must have told them that I get light sensitive after an episode.   Just from that disinfectant smell I can tell I’m in a hospital again.   I really hate hospitals.   I’ve been in too many of them.

I don’t try to sit up.   Not yet.   “Pap?”

“About time, Archie.   How do you feel?”   I heard the concern and relief in his voice as he patted my hand.   Good old Pap.   He and I are all we have left since my parents died years ago.   

My parents were superheroes.   

They died trying to save people.   

They were mutants.   

Which is why I’m the way I am.   My genes come from two different mutants.   

Yeah, I know, that’s all kinds of screwed up.   I got my first round of cancer after Mommy died.   I was eight.   They thought it was pre-adolescent testicular cancer.   What really happened is that the genes in the cells down there just started spontaneously changing on their own.   The doctors from my parents’ superteam came to the conclusion that the only reason I had survived to be born or even get to eight years old, was Mom’s probability powers.   She could alter the chance of something happening.   Make One-in-a-Billion things a guarantee.   Her powers kept me alive in the womb, kept my genes from coming apart as I grew.    They even came to the conclusion that it was all done subconsciously on her part.  

The only reason I’m alive today is a hail-mary whacky gene therapy that stabilized my crazy pants DNA.

There are times I’m grateful for that.   Some times I’m not.

“Blarg.”   One of my favorite words.   It just says it all at moments like this.

“Heh.   You’re gonna be fine, son.”   

Sigh.   Son.   Augustus Archibald Kell the Fourth.   Ain’t that a mouthful.   Pap calls me Archie.   Most people call me Kell.

It’s a mixture of warmth because I know he means it out of love, with the sting of that not being who I really am.   I’ve known for years I’m not a boy.   Not in my head or heart.   Pap doesn’t get it.   I asked him what he thought when Isis King was on America’s Next Top Model during season 11.   I love my grandfather.   Given what he said back then, “That’s just not right.”   Sigh.   I know he loves me, but I can’t risk losing all the family I have left.

I smile back at Pap.   “Yeah.”   I slowly sit up, “How long was I out this time?”   Okay, the room didn’t spin.   That’s good.   I hate it when it does that.   Is it bad that I can’t remember the last time I felt good?

Pap’s smile disappeared, “Almost a full day.”

That made sense to me.   Pap’s eyes were bloodshot and the bags under his eyes were darker than ever, not to mention the white stubble on his face.   Pap’s a stickler for being clean shaven.   He was… No, he is still a Marine.   Pap fought in Vietnam.   His mother, my great-grandmother, was a super during WWII.   I never asked about her.   Not after mom and dad were gone.   I’ve no use for supers.   Which makes this trip all the weirder for me.

I still remember Pap and I sitting on the back porch back in Indiana.   It was the anniversary of mom and dad passing away.   Pap sat there with me, and we watched the sunset.   I still remember him saying that no one should outlive their children.   Dad was an only child.   My grandmother died in a car accident before I was born.   Pap and I only have each other.   I won’t risk that.

“Archie, it’s okay.   I called ahead.   They know that we’re running behind.”

“I’m still weirded out that you finally took their offer.   I’d rather be back in the garage.”   

He patted my hand again, “It’s got nothing to do with their offer, boy.   But maybe they can help you.”

I just stared at him.

“I know.   Anything else under the sun and I’d be thinking the same thing.   But they’re supers.   You’re the child of two supers.   Maybe they can help.   Maybe they can fix your genes.”   Tears started running down his leathery worn cheeks.   “I just can’t lose you, boy.”

He moved from the chair next to the bed and hugged me.   I wanted to cry.   Pap felt so frail.   All my life, he’s been this bedrock of strength.   I can’t tell him that I just want all of this to be over.   I’m doing this for him.

“It’s not like I’m wasting away here, Pap.”   I gestured down at my 400 pound frame.   The second round of cancer hadn’t been kind.   Thyroid.   Over a year and a half, I gained over 250 pounds.   I got rid of every mirror I could in our house.   Pap never said anything.   I avoid mirrors.   Every time I see my full self in a mirror, it hits me in the heart like a sledgehammer.   I was over 300 pounds when I was 13.   Funny part is this.   I eat a happy meal and I’m stuffed for hours.   I’m pretty sure that giant snails do the hundred faster than my metabolism runs.

It just hurts when I see myself.   It hurts so bad.   And the best part is that my screwed up genes keep me from losing any of the weight.   Yay.

Pap sighs, “I know it’s been rough, son. “

Ouch.

He hugs me tighter, “It’s not your fault that you’re this size.   The doctors said..”

I cut him off, “Pap.   I know.   Between my screwy genes and everything else, this is just how I am.”  

But I hate it.   I hate what I am.   I hate that I’ll never be Me.   I’m this bloated thing.   A cross between a fuzzy pear and the Hindenburg.   And it’s why I go to sleep every night praying I won’t wake up.

  “Hey.”   Pap pulled back to look me in the eye.   “Seneschal is one of the smartest people in the world.   I’m hoping she can fix you.”

I can’t hold the tears back now.   I nod.   That’s what Pap wants.   I don’t want to go.   I just want this all to stop.   I know Pap feels the same way about supers that I do.   He loves me more than that.   “That’s the real reason we’re going to DC. “   I stop crying.   “We’ve got no use for them, Pap.”   

“I know, kiddo.   I know.” He sat back.   “They’ve been wanting me to come to DC and help them renovate for the last year.   Archie, I grew up in that building.   I know it better than anyone.”

I nod.   Honestly, it’s not the move that I was against.   It’s dealing with being around supers. Supers are brave and wonderful people. They really are, for the most part. Unless you're related to them. Pap lets me go and gets up from the bed.   “I’m gonna see about getting us some food.”

“Can I have my tablet before you go?”

Pap smiles.   He goes back to his chair and pulls my backpack from under it.   It’s one of those fancy crossbody sling style bags.   I got it online.   At my size, I can’t wear it the right way, but I love the look.   I pull out my little 7” tablet and my phone, turn on the mobile hotspot and catch up a little.   I reach out to some of my friends online.   Let them know how things are going.   I’m a member of a couple of online trans groups for teens.   I post a couple of messages, and promise to post pics once we’re settled in.   All I’ve told them is that we’re going to be in DC.   I try to be real careful online.   Too many people hate people like me.   Child of a mutant.   Transgender.   Ginormous Fat.   Too smart for my own good.   (I graduated high school from my hospital bed when I was thirteen).

Pick one.

All of a sudden, I need to pee.   Badly.   So I get out of the bed, and trundle over to the bathroom, glucose drip IV in tow.   I take the tablet with me, sit down on the toilet and have a nice long pee.   With the IV no one will say a word to me about sitting down to do my business.   I’m reading this really cool article on using a small trailer with a fuel tank and a gas powered generator to extend the range on electric cars when I hear a commotion outside my room.  

I hear the door open, “He’s not here!   Get a BOLO out on the brat!”

Then I hear Pap, “Agent Manship, you came all the way out here from Indianapolis to tell us you missed us?   Is that it?”

Steps, those are definitely heels, “Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?”

“Special Agent Rick Manship, DMA.”   He pronounced it DEE-ma.   “Young Mr. Kell is on a watch list for probable mutation.   There was a report of a display of some sort of regurgitative chemical spray at a rest stop near the state border.”

I hear Pap start to snicker.

I just sigh.   DMA.   Department of Metahuman Affairs.   Part of Homeland Security.   Mutant hunters.   Every six months, I have to go to a DMA office and have a blood sample taken to show I have no active metagene sequences in my genetic structure.   All children of mutant parents do.

I wipe and flush while the woman and Agent Manship argue.   Then I come out of the bathroom and head back to the bed.   Everyone stops in their tracks.   I grin.   I can’t help it.

Agent Manship comes over and handcuffs me to the bed.   “Augustus Archibald Kell IV, you are under arrest!”

*** Author’s note: I’m absolutely overwhelmed by the positive response from y’all here on BC. I’ve always had a serious lack of self-confidence when it comes to my own writing. Thank you so much! Hugs to all of you who read and enjoyed Issue One. ***

*** At the end of Issue One, Archie had been handcuffed to his hospital bed by an agent of the Department of Metahuman Affairs. What happens next? Will Archie be arrested? Will Pap and Archie make it to Washington? Will Agent Rick Manship realize that most people call him Dick? Read on fearless reader! ***

Pap started in, “Are you out of your god-damned mind?” Did I mention that Pap was a Drill Instructor when he was in the Corps? I think everyone on this floor of the hospital knows now.

Agent Manship fired right back, “I knew he was a mutant when he graduated high school at thirteen! There’s no way I’m letting him go this time! Simmons! Nelson!” Two more DMA agents came to the doorway.

The woman, and from her clothing I’m guessing she’s my doctor, joins in. “You may be a Federal agent, but I want to check on my patient.” Agent Manship and Pap both stopped and turned to her. “Is there going to be a problem with me checking my patient?”

“You give him a shot of Inhibitor and I don’t care what you do.” Inhibitor, as you can guess, is a drug that stops superpowers from working. It does something to your brain chemically to stop most powers from working. It has to be specifically calibrated to the genetic code of the recipient, otherwise I think people like Agent Dick would be shooting people like me with darts loaded with it.

“Not an option here, Agent. According to the blood tests we ran yesterday, my patient has no active metagenes.” Ha. Suck on that, Agent Dick.

I didn’t think Agent Dick could get any redder in the face, “Wha… No. I don’t care what your results show, until one of my people can validate those results, they don’t mean anything!” At Pap’s rolling eyes he went on, “Oh he’s just a kid. He can’t be one of those kinds of mutants. Here’s what I’ve got to say about that. Colorado Springs. Rochester. Gary. Austin. Four cities destroyed by teenage children with powers they couldn’t control. I mean, let’s take a kid, full of teenage hormones, and give that kid the abilities of, oh… say Major Victory.” The Major was retired now. It’s not politically sound to have a nuclear powered superhero running around. Not in today’s world. Waving his hands, Agent Dick kept going, “In just those four cities, thousands dead, billions in damages. That’s why we have laws about kids with metagenes. You don’t like it? I don’t give a damn!”

Both the doctor and Pap were taken back, and everyone in earshot was staring now. It was true. Markus Samuelson, 14 years old, he was taking HGH and steroids to try and get physically larger for football. He was desperate to escape his family and situation in general. Markus came from an abusive home. James, Markus’ father tended to beat Markus when he got upset, which was often. One night, Markus had enough of his father using him as a punching bag, and so did Markus’ metagene. Two days, sixty-thousand lives and over a billion dollars in damage later it ended. Markus Samuelson committed suicide by super when he tried to use his brand new volcanic powers to open a super-volcano under what was left of the Region. Too much rage, frustration and power turned Markus Samuelson into a monster. One story of several. And, why people like me now have friends like Agent Dick.

The doctor started to say something and paused for a moment, “Okay. I need to check my patient. What do you need at this point?” Her voice was calmer than before, Agent Dick did have a point. Besides the one on top of his head.

“Enough blood for the metagene test, and a verified unbroken chain of custody for the blood sample up to and including the test.”

She nodded, “After I check my patient, I’ll have the blood drawn.”

“Good. Agent Nelson here will assist your tech.” The doctor nodded again. “Simmons, go with the doctor here, you’re guarding the boy.”

Pap just stood there, still stunned by Agent Dick’s outburst. He knew those things could happen. He just didn’t believe it could be me. He looked over at me, “Archie, I’m gonna go get those sandwiches. You’ll be okay?”

I nodded as the doctor and Agent Simmons came into the room and closed the door. As the doctor checked my chart and the monitors, Agent Simmons put her back against the wall next to the door. She opened her jacket, unsnapped her holster and then left her hand on her sidearm.

I know why things are the way they are. I do. I get it. Doesn’t mean I still don’t hate it.

While the doctor was checking things, I looked down at the handcuff. Part of me just wants to cry, the other part wishes I could turn in to someone like Dame Power. Tall, beautiful to the point where Miss Universe is the ugly friend, fly, super-strong, throw energy bolts, and invulnerable. Sigh. No. Not me. I got fugly genes. Just enough to make me a freak and to kill me, not enough to make me worthwhile.

“Okay, so now that we’ve got things a little quieter, let me take a look at you.” She smiled and shook my hand, “I’m Dr. Kirby. I just want to listen to your heart and lungs. Is that okay with you?” I nodded. She put on her stethoscope, “Now before you ask, yes. I did put this in the freezer before bringing it with me.” Her smile was a little contagious. I’m jealous of her awesome ponytail. It’s tied off to her right side, long and flowing. Ow.

She used the stethoscope to listen to my heart and lungs, and I shivered. Those things are always cold, but I did smile.

After checking me over, Dr. Kirby sat down on the bed next to me. “Your grandfather told me about your medical history. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed my hand. “Now on a scale from zero to ten, zero being no discomfort and ten being…”

“Four. I can focus past it, but it’s still there. “ It’s always there. For about the last six months, I’ve had constant pain. It gets better, it gets worse. It never goes away.

“And yesterday?”

“Nine.”

“Not ten?” She seemed surprised.

“Nine. I’ve hurt worse.” I closed my eyes. Then I lose it. I don’t know why, but I’m crying and I can’t stop. Dr. Kirby hugs me. I clutch her tight and just sob into her shoulder. “I’m tired of hurting. It never stops.” It takes a while before I get back under control. “I’m sorry.” Then I notice where she’s looking. During her examination of me, I kept fiddling with my tablet so my hands had something to do. The screen was on, and it was still on the webpage for my TG group. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! She knows! I quickly turn the tablet screen off.

She hugs me tight for a moment. “Hey. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Okay?” She glances directly at the tablet then back to me. “Okay?” I nod. “Okay?” I nod again. “If I was your age with what you’re going through, I don’t know if I could deal with it.” She stops to wipe a couple of tears away from her own eyes. “I won’t even pretend I know what it’s like.”

She squeezes my hand, and changes the subject. “So what are you taking for pain management?”

I’m drying my own eyes using my bed sheet. “Hydromorphone. 32 mg a day. The docs back home told me I could take it whenever I need it.” They do that when you don't have a lot of time left.

“And, I’m on a few other meds. Levothyroxin, Lisinopril, Glimeperide and Temodar. I should fricking rattle when I walk.” I’m diabetic, and I don’t have a thyroid anymore. Plus the heart problem bonus program. But that’s all related to the thyroid cancer. Putting on all the weight brought on the diabetes and heart stuff.

“Archie.” She paused, gathering her thoughts, “I think you should talk to someone about all of this. A professional.”

I look down at my little tablet, my fingers almost white from gripping it, “Why. It won’t change anything.” I keep stuffing the anger and frustration down this hole in the back of my head. Oh Fuck. I feel like I’m gonna break. I feel like I’m standing at the bottom of a dam that’s about to break.

Dr. Kirby gets up from the bed. I think she knew I was about to lose it worse than before. “Archie, I’m going to give you some recommendations I’d like you to follow once you leave here, okay?”

I nodded. “A nurse and the other agent will be in here in just a moment to draw the blood for the metagene test.”

She went to the door, nodded at Agent Simmons and left. As the door opened, I could hear Pap and Agent Manship still going at it.

I looked at Agent Simmons. We locked eyes for a long moment. She gave me a small smile and a wink as she took her hand off her gun. I smiled back, and mouthed a silent thank you.

I curled up into a little ball and tried to get myself back under control. I don’t know how long I lay there. Every now and then I’d pull on the handcuff. I had almost fallen asleep.

Then the door to my room swung open and a very sharply dressed black woman came into my room. “You must be Archie. Get dressed, it’s time to go.” She looked late thirties/early forties, dressed in a custom tailored suit. Extremely classy, from her pixie cut to her handmade leather flats.

Agent Simmons turned to her, “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to…”

“Agent, this is Aegis Court business. Your presence is no longer required here.” The newcomer held out a card to Agent Simmons, who checked the card, nodded and left the room.

I watched Agent Simmons leave, and then focused on the woman who sat down on my bed next to me. “Hi?”

She laughed, “Hi Archie. I’m Beth. I haven’t seen you since you were little.” Beth had a Julia Roberts type of smile, she lit the room up. “So, first things first. I’m an old friend of your Mom’s. You have her eyes, you know.”

I just stared at her. This was Bethany MacTaggart. Yeah, the Bethany MacTaggart. Got her first doctorate at 13, made her first billion at 20. The original Seneschal. The woman who turned down a vice-presidential nomination because she wasn’t willing to compromise on her politics. The Government liaison for the Aegis Court. That Bethany MacTaggart. Which means she’s at least 10 years older than she looks. Sigh. And she makes it look effortless.

She laughed again, “Archie, let’s get you out of here.”

I pulled on the handcuff. “I don’t think they want me to leave yet. Me and my fugly genes.”

“They don’t get to have a say anymore. Here.” She tossed me a card as she went to the door. “Get ready, Archie. We’re wheels up in ten.”

I looked at the card. It was an Aegis Court ID. It was mine. Listed me as an Intern.

I don’t know what to think about this.

*** Comments are always welcome! Please let me know if you like this, or want to see more. Or, tell me I'm wasting my time. Feedback is wonderful! ***

*** So Archie is safe from the DMA.  At least for now.  What is the Aegis Court all about?  What happens now? Thus begins Part One of the Infamous Day. ***

Beth MacTaggart was as good as her word.  Agent Dick and the others were gone.  Must be nice to have that kind of political clout.  It seems as an underage employee of the Aegis Court, though I don’t remember applying for the job, they get to be responsible for my metagene testing until I’m eighteen.

The one thing in my life I wanted to avoid.  Supers.  Now, I’m going to die surrounded by them.  Mom was a super.  Dad was a super.  Hell, even Pap was a super for a while when he was in the Corps. I knew it was going to be like this, but it's different thinking about it, as opposed to living it.

Me?  I’m genetically fubar, to borrow Pap’s favorite term.  I’m no super.  I’m just dying.  Now I’m part of the Aegis Court.  The world’s premier super team.  America’s Guardians.  The team my parents belonged to.  The team my great-grandmother helped found.  The team that took them all away from my family.  My great-grandmother, Pap’s mom, disappeared shortly after he was born.  One of the great mysteries of the 20^th Century.  My parents?  They died for nothing.  So yeah, I’ve got an axe to grind, as Pap would say.

Beth had flown out to meet us in an Dropship.  They loaded up our van, Pap and me, and flew us to Washington.  I think Beth regretted that one, though.  I used every airsick bag they had.  They weren’t enough.

***

I’ve been in Washington for a week.  I haven’t seen much of anything on the outside in all that time.  Even though this was where I grew up for the first eight years of my life, it feels all new.  When I’m not in a medical lab being a good little lab rat, I’m helping out in the hangar.  Back in Indianapolis, Pap and I had a restoration business.  We specialized in mechanical restorations.  Vintage machinery and vehicles.  Mechanical things have always made sense to me.  It’s not some sort of spooky mutant thing, I’m just really mechanically inclined.  The Dropships are amazing.  They’re hypersonic!  Top speed of Mach Six!  That’s almost double the speed of a Blackbird.  Heh.  So Cool!  Yeah, I’m a geek girl. Part of living here is awesome. I still hate it though.

I was in the hangar workshop.  Sitting on a stool at one of the workbenches, helping Chief rebuild a gimbal assembly.  I remembered him from when I was here as a child.  The Chief is in charge of pretty much anything in the base that concerns mechanicals, electronics or gadgets.  He’s not a super either.  Everyone calls him Chief, or The Chief.  He was a Master Chief in the Navy.  When the HALO games first came out, a bunch from the Maintenance Bay modified a set of old Seneschal armor to look like the Master Chief’s from the game.  Even fitted it out with a souped-up Teleforce Rifle.  Chief didn’t think it was that funny.  One of the maintenance crew told me he kept the rifle, though. 

  I was in the middle of telling Chief about my motorbike back home when the air got cold and a shudder went down my spine.  Chief just turned and stared over my shoulder.

If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure whatever Chief was staring at would drop dead.  And I’m thinking the overkill would probably take out a small country to boot.  

“Hello.”  I froze at the sound of that voice.  A voice that was more like three voices speaking in unison.  I’d heard Doctor Zen speak on television, but it just doesn’t do his voice justice.  There’s some component to his voice that doesn’t get picked up by microphones.  All I know is that in person, his voice is like a Goa’uld’s from Stargate.  But a lot more creepy.  Like literally give you goosebumps and make the hair on the back of your neck stand up heebie-jeebies.

I turned, “Umm, hi.”  I wasn’t really sure what to say to a four and half foot tall real Magick magician.  Especially one that gives off a ginormous amount of the creepies.  He’s got brown hair, pale skin and likes to wear Bruce Lee style tracksuits.  I know, it sounds cute.  It’s not.

Doctor Zen never blinks, and oh does that really add to the whole experience.  “Archie.  Your grandfather has told me that you are interested in your great-grandmother’s history.  Is this true?”

“Umm, yeah.”  Speaking of Stargate, the Doc here doesn’t change his expression.  It reminds me of a Many Faces of Teal’c shirt.  I have one of those.  But the Doc here, he’s creepy personified.  His eyes are black.  Like all black.  No whites, no color, just black.  And that not blinking thing?  Combine that with the four and a half feet tall thing, the Bruce Lee pajamas that he always wears…  Yeah.  Shudder.

Chief cleared his throat, getting my attention, “You better go, Kell.”  He nodded towards Doctor Zen.  “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard the midget willing to talk to anyone about Ms. Mystery since your mom.  Don’t worry about the gimbal, I got it.”

“Come.”  Doctor Zen uttered, then turned and walked away from me.  I put my tools down and followed.  I’m fascinated with great-grandma’s story.  How she helped found the Aegis Court, what happened to her after WWII.  I just wish that Doc Creepster wasn’t just so damned… creepy!

We went along the tunnel back under Anderson House.  When the Ambassador’s widow donated their Washington D.C. mansion to the newly formed Aegis Court back in 1937, I doubt she realized that they would turn it and the rest of the block into a fortress.  A twelve-foot privacy fence separates the rest of the block from the citizenry of Washington.  The hangar is underneath the reflecting pool behind Anderson House.  The reflecting pool drains and as part of a hidden door, opens to allow the launching or recovery of dropships, helicopters and mini-Ds.

We got into the elevator to go up to the first floor of the mansion proper.  There’s twelve levels below ground.  Crazy stuff.  Labs, automated mini-factories, bunkers, just all kinds of weird stuff.  Two floors above, and some of it’s open to the public.  We walked up the staircase in the east stair hall and then the Doc stopped at the landing between the floors.  Instead of turning left to continue up the stairs, the small man turned to the right, facing the wall.  There was this huge painting of a lake or bay somewhere out and away in the middle of nowhere.  There was this lovely house on the left hand side.  In the middle there was a boat dock and a beautiful old schooner moored, sails all furled.  And there was a worn stone path that led off to the right, out of the painting’s view.  

“Touch the painting, Archie.”  

“What?”

I felt the stare.  “Touch it.”

“Why?’

“Why are we here?”

“You told me you were going to tell me about my…”

He cut me off, “I asked if you were interested in her history.  Her story.”  He paused.  “Are you?”  Then in my head I heard Rod Serling, “Presented for your consideration, Ms. Archie Kell.  A dying girl trapped in a teenaged boy’s body.  A magic ritual involving this girl, a painting and an immortal dwarf sorcerer will change her life forever.”  (Twilight Zone theme plays)

I swallowed nervously.  “Yes.”

“Touch the painting.”

I did.

For a moment, nothing happened.  Then Doctor Zen stepped forward, put his hand on the painting and touched my elbow at the same time.

Then the world just went away.

***

I woke up in some enormous chair.  It has to be really huge as I’m not touching both sides of the chair.  I’m six foot two and I weigh just over four hundred pounds.

I heard Sean Connery’s voice, “You are safe.  It happens to everyone the first time they go through the portal.”

I opened my eyes.  That wasn’t little Doc Creepy’s voice.  I was sitting in a wonderfully luxurious leather chair.  I was in Gandalf the Grey’s dream library.  The room was at least thirty feet tall with vaulted ceilings.  There were no windows.  The walls were bookshelves, and they were filled with books and volumes of all kinds.  Tables and chairs were laden with stacks and piles of books.  Across from me sat a four and half foot tall creature made of clay.  It had two small lumps of obsidian for eyes, and a crack in the clay itself for a mouth.

“Yes, I am Doctor Zen.”  Again, the voice was unmistakably that of Sean Connery.  “The technical term is homunculus.  I was created by a wizard centuries ago.  I can use Glamour magic to disguise all but one aspect of myself.  In the world, I mask all of me but my senses.  Here, I can have a voice I appreciate.”

“Where is here…”  My question died off as I squirmed in the chair to sit more upright, and realized that moving wasn’t the struggle I expected.  I was slim.  I felt weightless. 

“I see Souls, Archie.  This is much closer to who you really are than what you are back in the world.”

I felt the tears running down my face.  I shut my eyes tight, rubbing them with the heels of my hands.  “How?”  I asked softly.

“Magic.  This is my demesne.  Here, my will is law.  Excepting the limits put on me by my creator.”

I felt a little warm mitten-hand of clay pat my arm.

I opened my eyes and the figure of clay was standing next to me.  For a moment, I forgot this was the same Dr. Creepy who made my hair stand on end, with his lifeless state and inhuman voice.  

I just gathered him into a hug and held him close.  I kept whispering thank you over and over.

“Stand up.  I have one more surprise.”

I let him go and did as he asked.

And just like that, I didn’t hurt.  My back and joints normally ache due to my weight.  I didn’t hurt.  The baseball sized tumor in my head didn’t hurt.  Nothing hurt.  It felt weird.  I felt good.  Good.  For the first time in years, I felt wonderful.

I must have been almost a foot shorter than I was.  And barely a fourth of the weight.  I felt like I could fly.  I ran around the library room, dodging and weaving through the stacks and piles.  I reveled in just moving.  Not lumbering.  I was graceful.  Or at least it felt like it.

And then the dust hit me.  All that motion through the room had stirred up the dust of what was probably decades and then I began sneezing.  That didn’t hurt either.  I felt a touch on my elbow and the world shifted.

We were outside, near the lake.  The boat dock was off to our left and down a path I could see a small cottage.  No dust here.  The air was clear and sweet.  The breeze felt cool.  “So what’s down there, Doc?”  No more Dr. Creepy.  The little guy just made my all time favorite people list.

Sir Sean’s voice came back immediately, “Your great-grandmother’s cottage.  Her retreat.”  It was a very small cottage, close to the lakeshore.  Only maybe a couple of rooms on the inside from the two windows that faced us.  The cottage had originally been painted white, but it was faded.  Worn by the years, I assume.  Oh, that’s even if time actually passes in here?  Does it?  Should I ask?

Nah.  Maybe later.

We walked up the stone path to the door.  It was a dark green, like the trim around the windows.  No knocker, just a brass door knob.

My little clay compadre reached up and opened the door.

It wasn’t what I expected.  Not at all.

There wasn’t any color inside the house.  Everything was black and white.  It was all one room.  In one corner there was a small kitchen, assuming you call a sink, refrigerator (yes, an electric refrigerator) and an electric griddle a kitchen.  A small cupboard next to the sink was open.  It held a dish, a cup and a package of Cheese Ritz crackers.  I didn’t know they had been around that long.

The rest of the large room was empty except for a large pile of pillows on the floor.

“This is it?”  I was surprised.  This isn’t what I expected for the secret retreat of the legendary Ms. Mystery.

“Yes.  Alexandra was always a bit of a puzzle for me.  She would come here, and meditate.  Occasionally she would borrow a book from my library.  Most of the time she played with this bag of toys, when she wasn’t meditating.”

I couldn’t resist, “Don’t you mean she was a mystery?”

The little clay man put his hand on my arm, “Please, Archie.  Never use a quip that bad in my presence again.”  The creepy voice was back.  Doc Zen led me over to the pile of pillows.  He rooted around in them for a few moments, and pulled up a white leather bag.  In addition to being the size of a small grocery bag, it had the constellation of Orion embossed on it in small black squares.  But it was wrong.  It didn’t have the right stars.  There were stars off to the right of the usual ones, laid out a lot like a bow, but no stars for the upraised arm.  I’d never seen that configuration.

“Here.”  He handed me the bag.  “You should have something that belonged to her.”

“Shouldn’t you be giving this to my grandfather?  Shouldn’t you have given him this years ago?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Your grandfather has a great deal of unresolved emotions where his mother is concerned.”  He paused, “You need to know her story to understand, and that is not my story to tell.”

“So… who’s going to tell me that story?”  This made no sense at all.

“She will.”  He saw me start to ask, “Her diary is in the bag.”

I was completely intrigued.  Even though I can’t stand the whole superhuman thing, I’d read everything I could find about Ms. Mystery.  She was family.  There were almost a dozen books about her second disappearance.  When she first disappeared, she came back a year later.  What the public didn’t know is that she came back with a son.  Pap.  I’d always assumed that she just took that time off to have her child.  

Her second disappearance is one of the greatest mysteries of the 20^th Century.

I can’t wait to read her diary.

“Archie.”

I looked into Doc’s black eyes, which weren’t as frightening as they used to be.  

“Do not let your grandfather know about the diary.”

“Why?”

“You will understand once you have read it.”

Then the world shuddered.

*** Author’s Note:  Please feel free to give feedback, even if it’s through a PM.  All of it is wanted, Positive and Negative. ***

*** Author’s Note: Please feel free to give feedback. Positive or Negative. Even if it’s through a PM. All of it is desperately wanted. I’ve had a lot of problems since the last part was posted. If you’re reading this, thank you so much for sticking with me. ***

*** So, the Mysteries deepen. (Sorry, couldn’t resist!) Something is happening, and just when Archie was learning about his great-grandmother. Also, something about Pap and his own history with his mother. Here is part two of the Infamous Day. ***

The world shuddered again. And then a third time.

“We have to go, Archie. That is the alarm.”

“Who has earthquakes as an alarm?”

“Do you see anything damaged?”

I stopped. The shudders kept coming, but nothing actually moved. It was as if my perception was shaking, not reality. “Okay. What’s going on.”

“The mansion is under attack.”

Doc grabbed my arm with his little mitten hands, “Hold on.”

There was a moment of nothing again, and then I was bent over puking up lunch. I dropped to my knees as all my pain came back. I could feel the it seeping into the knees of my pants from where I threw up. I didn’t care. It hurt to think. It hurt to breathe. It hurt just being there.

Finally I opened my eyes. There was sunlight on the stair landing. A good chunk of the roof was gone, and there were puddles of water on the floor. I could hear explosions going off in the distance. I could smell burnt things, wood and electronics.

“No time, Archie.” Doc Creepy’s voice was back. I looked down at those eyes, and they weren’t as scary now. “Here.” Doc put his hands together and an electric blue glow came from between them. He wrapped his hands around my wrist and when he took them away, there was a blue loop of string. “Think of the safest place you know.”

He gave me the creepy stare. My mind was kind of blank. Safe?

“Good.” He smiled up at me. “Only break that string if your life depends on it. I would have left you behind, Archie. But I cannot risk you being trapped in the painting without me. Go. Hide.” Then he was gone. Before the count of three there were storm clouds visibly gathering in the sky above the hole in the ceiling in response to the little dwarf’s magics.

I have no idea what the Doc saw in my head that meant safe, but I struggled to my feet and went down the stairs. Something must have been wrong with Doc’s alarm. Whatever happened here, happened hours ago. Shit like this is why I want no part of their world. Pap. Oh dear god, where is he? I reached into the cargo pocket where I carry my little tablet. It wasn’t there. I’d put it on the charging pad before I met up with the Chief to help with maintenance. I’d have to get to my room.

I headed towards the elevator to the levels below. There’s a stairwell next to it. Yay, more stairs. Lots more stairs. The elevator doors were gone. Just a hole in the wall and a damaged floor. I went to the opening and looked down. Looks like whatever was used on the elevator got used on the security doors between floors. There were rappelling lines going down. I couldn’t see any fires, but I could smell smoke and burnt stuff. Pap could be down there somewhere. I have to find him.

***

It took me over an hour to get down to the residential level. God, my knees hurt. Even going downstairs it starts to hurt after a while. All that cardio made sure my headache was pounding away more than normal as well. I’d found multiple signs of firefights. Bloodstains. All of the doors were locked open. There was something during the safety briefing that mentioned it in case of fire.

There was a blotch of red on the floor by the door into the level, and a handgun over in the corner. I picked the pistol up. It was a HKG service pistol, one of those polymer framed slug-throwers. I slipped it into great-gran’s bag. Like Pap always told me, only carry a gun if you’re willing to pull the trigger. It might come in handy.

I hadn’t been able to find anyone. No one. No dead bodies. Just flashburns and holes from teleforce weapons as well as bullet holes and shell casings. And the occasional bloodstain. That scared me even more for Pap. Where the hell is everyone? No rescue personnel, no Guard troops, no Police. Nobody. Something must be really wrong. Really really wrong.

I got to my room, and collapsed onto my bed. Between the headache (which was reaching around nine or ten on the Beaufort scale), the hour or so of stairs and wreckage climbing, I was done.

Gotta catch my breath. I lay there, sweating into the comforter. I tried to slow my breathing down to something not as fast as the thud-thudding in my ears. For a moment, I remembered being in the painting. Being able to move. To run. No pain. For a moment, everything hurt more. And for a moment, I hated being me more than ever.

Pap.

I couldn’t help groaning as I got off the bed and got my comlink from the charging pad. I can hate on myself later. I had messages from Pap. Lots of them. The date on the comlink read August 14^th. That’s tomorrow.

Fuck. Magic. Something must have kept us in the painting much longer than what the Doc had planned.

Later. I made a shooing motion with my hand. Deal with it later. I fell back on the bed. Much easier than standing. Really.

I called Pap. He picked up immediately.

“Boy? Where in the hell are you?” He was yelling. So was I. I didn’t even have the usual twinge when he called me Boy.

I was still breathing hard, “In my room… Had to get my meds and find you.”

“Don’t you go anywhere! We’ll be right there!”

Pap clicked off and I managed to get fully upright again. I started taking my meds, went through one bottle of water and started a second. I lay back and even with the lights on, it was just so easy to close my eyes…

***

“Archie. Wake up.” I was being gently shaken.

Everything hurt. I was so tired. Lemme sleep. “Five more minutes, Pap.”

“Archie! “ I was shaken harder.

I opened my eyes. Pap didn’t yell like that unless the shit was deep.

Now I was awake. There were several people other than Pap in my room. Three of them wore Americommando armor and carried teleforce rifles. Yeah, that bunch. The same whackjobs that think we should stand up to the Canadians and at the same time go to war with the Elves over in Europe. Morons. What the hell are they doing here?

The other two wore uniforms with the same Eagle on Flag motif as the troopers. One of them was older, I’d have to say close to Pap’s age. The other was a young woman who had a medical kit.

Pap shook me again to get my attention, “Archie? Where have you been?”

“Was with the Doc. He took me to this secret hideaway of his.”

The older man piped in, “That explains that, Gus. He was in the painting with the sorcerer. Frankly, I’m surprised your boy here would spend time with it.” The way he said ‘it’ really bothered me.

“If you hurt like my boy here does, Jim, you would try anything. I gave Beth and her people their chance.” I stared at Pap. What did that mean? “Why the hell do you think I helped you get in here?”

I grabbed Pap’s arm and pulled, “What did you do?”

Pap helped me up to a sitting position, “Archie. I can’t lose you. When Beth’s treatments weren’t helping, I called an old friend. I know how much time they said you had left.” I could hear the anguish in Pap’s voice. I squeezed his hand.

“Gus, can we get on with this? The canucks will be here in about five hours. The Vancouver and her escorts with the 4th CAM onboard.” Jim didn’t sound like a happy camper. What worried me even more was what happened that the Canadians would be sending their flagship along with their top special forces unit to Washington.

Pap nodded and the young woman came forward, “Okay, Archie.” She opened her kit and took out an injector gun. She attached a small bottle of a silvery liquid to the back of it. “I’m not going to lie to you. This will hurt.”

I started to back away, “What the hell is that stuff?”

Pap held me in place, “It’s going to cure you.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s the plan.” The woman said. Her name tape read D’Orazio, and there was a caduceus emblem on her shoulder.

“Are you a doctor?” I couldn’t keep the fear out of my voice.

She put her hand on my arm as she nodded. It was warm and her touch reminded me of Dr. Kirby. She waved the injector gun, “This is a serum which contains an enzyme that will attempt to activate your metagene.”

“How?” If they had one that could turn on the gene, they would have one that could turn off the gene. They’d be putting it in the water supply.

She smiled at me, “Symbiotechnics. The enzyme is as much nanotech as it is protein. This is a modified version of DNA Helicase that will locate the metagene in your DNA sequences and unzip it to help jumpstart RNA generation.”

I’d heard of symbiotechnics, but I didn’t understand all of that. It’s okay. I really didn’t need to, “No.” Her smile fell.

“Archie.” I could feel the sadness and worry in Pap’s voice. “I can’t lose you, boy. If we turn on your metagene, it should cure you.”

Dr. D’Orazio got my tablet from the charging pad and handed it to me. “Here. Why don’t you look up some information on Symbiotechnics.” I took my tablet, and didn’t see the signal between her and Pap.

“So who is this?” I pointed at the guy Pap called Jim.

“An old friend from the Corps…” Pap lunged. He pinned me on the bed, and I felt a sharp jab to the inside of my right thigh.

Fire. I felt it suddenly running down my leg. Burning, burning, burning Fire. It started to fill my other leg.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even scream.

Pain has been the center of my life for years now. I’d never hurt this bad before. Ever.

It flowed up my body to my head.

To be continued…

*** Author’s Note: I’m glad this didn’t take as long as the last gap between posts. This is a very dark chapter. Thanks for sticking with me this far, there’s a lot more to come. ***

*** Part Three of the Infamous Day. The Death of Archie Kell ***

I woke up.

It was pitch black or I’d gone blind. I started to sit up, but everything was stiff and kinda numb.

Numb.

I didn’t hurt. No headache. No fire running through me. Even my knees didn’t hurt. But my body just didn’t want to cooperate.

As I finally got to where I was sitting up, the lights kicked on. I was back home in Indianapolis., or sort of. I was down in the Bunker. Pap built it behind the restoration shop back in the 80’s, when everyone was scared that we were going to war with the Elves. The lights are hooked up to motion detectors to save battery power. I did those myself a couple of years ago. A fifty foot tube under ten feet of ferro-concrete and cold iron.

I noticed I was laying on the comforter from my room back In the base. Great-Gran’s bag was still right next to me, I’d been lying on the shoulder strap. My tablet was here too.

“How the hell did I get here?’

I don’t normally talk to myself, but sometimes you just do. I started to get to my feet. But they didn’t work. I couldn’t feel my feet at all. They didn’t move. My knees would move some, but not much. It was all numb.

What the fuck did that stuff they put In me do? I broke down right there. I cried that I didn’t hurt anymore. I cried that I couldn’t walk. Pap. The look of desperation on his face as he held me down.

I let it all out. I don’t know how long I lay there and cried.

Finally, I was cried out. I had that deep ache in my chest, the one you get after bawling your eyes out. I felt empty. As the ache in my chest eased, I realized how I got here. The Doc’s little blue string was gone. His magic brought me here, where evidently I feel safe.

Oh shit! I can’t get out of here, not unless I can get in touch with someone to help. There’s about a half-ton of car parts sitting on top of the hatch. That doesn’t include the rung ladder to get to that hatch. Sigh.

I felt it starting. The self-pity party. It wasn’t fucking fair. It just wasn’t. My fubar genes screwed me again. Those militant crazies tried to turn me into a super and what do I get?

No walkies for me. Oh no! That’s just too damned good for the likes of Archie Kell. Can’t go pain free without giving up something really crucial! The floodgates opened the second time and I cried until I was completely exhausted. I fell asleep.

***

It was dark again. I waved my arm. It was stiff, and didn’t want to move. Sleeping on concrete will do that. Yes it will. The lights came on. I sat up. Slowly. I have to stop sleeping on concrete floors. My stomach rumbled for several seconds. It matched the case of dry mouth I had going.

Twenty feet away there was cases of canned food and bottled water. Twenty feet. Not much of a distance. Not until you have to crawl that far without your legs. Not when you’re six-four and weigh north of four hundred pounds. So I started pulling myself along the floor. My arms were stiff, and I cold barely get my knees to move. It’s bad to sleep on concrete floors.

I don’t know how long it took to get to the supplies. It was inches at a time as I pulled myself across the floor. I got so tired I had to stop and rest twice. But, I finally got over to where I could reach the food and water. I popped the top on a can of mini ravioli and started drinking/eating it right from the can. Cold. I washed it down with room temperature water.

The most delicious meal I can remember having lately. It was so good, I had a second can of the mini ravioli.

Ah. I had that full tummy feeling. Now I need to get on the internet and see what’s going on.

My tablet. I actually looked around me for a moment. Out of habit I guess. Nope.

There it sat. Right where I left it. Twenty feet away. Back on the comforter.

…

…

Aw, fuck. For someone who’s supposed to be a genius, I can be dumber than shit.

I got turned around and started back towards my tablet. I started crawling again. Pulling myself by inches along the floor. I stared at the tablet. Focused on it. My arms ached.

That’s when an old friend decided to come back. I was staring at the tablet when the old headache came back. The same old deep stabbing pain through the middle of my brain. It hit like a lightning bolt.

***

I woke up. It was pitch black again. I waved my arm, it was harder to move, and the lights kicked on again. This sleeping on concrete is killing me. Right in front of me sat my tablet.

My tablet.

What the…

Okay. Time to be rational. Tablet was there. Twenty feet away. I was looking right at it, focused on getting to it. The headache hit, and out I went. I wake up and it’s right here in front of me. There’s no one else here but me, so somehow I moved it. Yay, I’m a super?

How? And, does it mean the headaches again?

Okay, okay. I picked up the tablet. I looked it over. There were scuff marks on the case. So… I didn’t teleport it. My arms are really stiff, so I didn’t stretch out and grab it, they’d have to be so much more flexible. Some sort of extra appendage? Retractable appendage? Telekinesis? Do I manifest a little servant of some sort?

I tapped the power button, nothing. The tablet wasn’t asleep. I held the power button down for a couple of seconds, then released it. Still nothing. Damn. Probably an empty battery.

I blew out a long breath. Time to experiment. Great-Gran’s bag was still sitting on the comforter down there. I stared at it. I focused on it.

Nothing happened. No headache. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

I stared and stared, thought of nothing else but having the bag in my hand.

Nothing.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. My fingers felt weird. They were getting stiff too. Yep, sleeping on the concrete is really not good. Fortunately there are bunks ten feet further in the bunker. I started to get a strange taste in my mouth. I got turned back around, which wasn’t fun, and grabbed a bottle of water.

I threw the bottle towards the comforter, but my stiff arms and fingers made it where I only got it about halfway in between. Tonight I’m sleeping in a bunk. No more concrete and this stiffness will start going away. Yes it will.

I wanted that water. I was thirsty. I concentrated on that. I figure that it can’t hurt. I stared at the water, I focused on it. I scrunched my brow, focusing as hard as I could on that bottle of water. Of how good it would taste right now.

I felt a pop in my head. Like something bad had happened. I prayed that I wasn’t having a stroke. Then the bottle twitched. No ectoplasmic appendages. I could feel something stretching out from my mind to the bottle, and it didn’t hurt. I concentrated on that feeling in my mind. I felt it get stronger. It took me a few minutes but I made the bottle roll back to me. It felt like I had a line from me to the bottle.

Telekinesis.

Telekinesis is rare. Extremely rare. I’m not sure I can recall more than two in my lifetime. Lots of instances of the other derivative abilities of Psychokinesis, pyrokinesis, cryokinesis, etc.. I’ve got telekinesis. I stopped. Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I just be a normal sixteen year old girl?

No. That’s too good for me.

With tears in my eyes, choking back my self-hate before I lost it and bawled my eyes out again, I wiped my eyes and took hold of myself. Years of practice keeping my emotions in check for Pap kicked in. I took a deep breath.

I need to get things arranged so I don’t sleep on the concrete again.

I focused on forming that line with my mind, and reached out to the wall switch down by the door. Now the lights would stay on. I flipped the switch next to it and the the fans kicked on. It wasn’t until I felt the breeze from the fans wash over me that I realized just how warm it was. It felt good. Now I wanted a shower, but I don’t think that’s happening any time soon. Not until whatever is happening to me runs it course.

I looked down the wall to where the comforter lay, tagged it with my line and started pulling it to me. It took several tries but I had the comforter and Great-Gran’s bag in hand. I put several cans of food, bottles of water, utensils, drink mix and a roll of paper towels in the comforter and drew it up like a bag. I took my telekinetic line and wound it around the bag.

I picked it up from the ground with my mind. I felt a tension in my mind, a kind of strain. Sort of like when you pick something up from the ground with your arm straight. But in my head. Weird. I pushed it over to the closest bunk. Again, it took several tries, and I was starting to get a headache. A new one. Finally, I got the bag over to the bunk. I rested until the new headache subsided.

Now to experiment a little bit. I opened my comforter bag up and stacked the contents next to the bunk. It took a while and I learned something while doing it. I was stacking the cans, and I wobbled one and without thinking reached out to catch it. My line became a hand. Everything got easier. This was cool!

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Now I had to get myself to the bunk. I pulled the comforter back over and spread it out on the floor next to me. I rolled onto the comforter and then lifted the corners to take as much weight as I could lift. I didn’t get me off the ground. But it made it easier to pull myself across the floor.

After several minutes of experimenting with the comforter, I finally just used my telekinesis on my pants and got myself into the bunk.

Sooo Comfy!

I covered up with the comforter and went to sleep.

***

When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything below the waist. My eyesight wasn’t as good as before. Dimmer. Breathing is harder. Fingers and arms are very stiff. I’m on my way to becoming a quadriplegic. A cripple with telekinesis. I haven’t felt the need to go to the toilet since I woke up here, and I know that’s not good.

On the bright side, because I’m just not going to spend another day crying, I’ve got telekinesis. On the other hand, I feel like something Death vomited back up. I grabbed the pillows from the other bunks and got myself propped up. Time to find out more about Great-Gran.

I took her bag, with the weird Orion emblem, and dumped it onto the floor in front of the bunk. The slugthrower that I put in there came out. So did jars of makeup, books, handcuffs, manacles, boxes of tissues, rolls of toilet paper, another slugthrower pistol, ammunition, an electric kettle, boxes of tea, large tea mugs, bottles of wine and various liquors, notebooks, pens, bottles of ink, napkin pads, jewelry (including several bracelets of different sizes in pure lapis lazuli) and a golf ball sized orb of crystal.

That was the stuff I could recognize. I don’t know where it all came from. It’s a small bag. About the size of a small messenger bag or small grocery bag. I brought it up, pulled the flap back and looked in.

***

I don’t know how long I had stared into the bag. I just don’t know. I don’t even remember what I saw. I did learn never look in the bag. I think I stared into it until I got so tired my mind couldn’t hold it up. My whole body shuddered just thinking about looking in it again. So I set the bag aside.

I rooted through the pile and picked up the crystal golf ball. As my telekinesis touched it, it glowed electric blue. Beautiful. I wanted to touch it so I lay the ball in my hand.

It began to pulse. Light, dark, light, dark.

I felt something in my mind. Then shrieking noises. Flaring lights. Pressure. The old headache. It got more intense. It got bad. Then I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

I was dying. I knew it. I could feel it. Just slowly slipping away.

And then it all went black.

To be continued…

*** Hi, again. If you read all the way to the end, please let me know by clicking the little (Good Story!) button please. Also, if you’re of a mind to do so, leave a comment! All comments will be greatly appreciated!!! ***

*** Author’s Note: I didn’t think it would take this long to get this far. ***

*** Rebirth ***

I woke up and I couldn’t breathe. I was covered in some kind of thick, sticky muck. I reached up and cleared the muck off of my mouth with my hand. I opened my mouth to breathe.

I got a taste of the crud and almost threw up.

I sat up.

Oh god. Ewwwww. I was encased in inches of slimy gel-like crud. I retched, but nothing came up.

I swallowed some of it.

I retched and retched and retched.

Without thinking, I reached out with my new telekinesis and flipped the ventilation fans to full. I heard them start spooling up to full speed.

I got to my feet and from memory headed to the shower. I stumbled over stuff in the floor. I stopped a couple of times to retch. I reached in and fumbled around until I got the water going. Thankfully, the hot water came quickly from the solar water heater for the Restoration Shop. It was originally meant just for the bunker, but the shop got used everyday, the bunker didn’t.

The water felt like a blessing from heaven. I could feel the paste like crud coming off of me. I started pulling my clothes off and piling them in the corner, even my shoes and socks. I stood under the water and used my telekinetic hand to wipe the crud off.

I didn’t want to touch it. Eww. Eww. Ick! Eww. This wasn’t like oil from an engine or lube from an axle. It was slimier and smellier than anything I’d ever been around before and I almost drowned in it!

I rinsed my mouth out time after time after time. Finally, the taste was gone, but not the memory of it. Oh, no. Definite nightmare material. It felt like I was buried in it.

I ran my hands through my hair. But there wasn’t any hair. All I felt was smooth scalp. That’s when I finally opened my eyes.

I was thin. I looked at my arms, and down my body. My fingers were long and slender instead of thick and blocky. It was so different. It felt so wonderful. The great weight gone.

I was thin. I was slim. I didn’t feel pounds of blubber shift as I turned in a pirouette on one foot under the spray.

“I AM THIN!”

It felt so good I began to tear up. Wait!

Wait just a second!

I looked back down my body. No boy bits. No hair. Not on my arms or legs. Nothing between my legs but a slit.

“I’m a girl.”

I stepped out of the shower, got a couple of towels and dried off. Then I went to the mirror to see what the latest result of my personal genetic lottery had brought.

I’m shorter. Everything seemed just a little out of place from where I remembered it. Higher from the floor. I had longer legs than before, but overall I’m shorter. Let’s see… I’m still tall for a girl, and not that much shorter than I used to be. Maybe six feet still. My brain told me 5’10”. My skin was blotchy, darker in some areas than others.

My chest is flat, but I can feel some soreness around my nipples, which were dark as well.

“Oh my god… I’m a girl.” I started dancing. A bald, flat-chested girl. But…Girl!!!

A starving girl. Girl!

So I went over and got some soup. Girl! Got it in an oversized mug and popped it into the microwave. Girl!

I slurped tomato soup from my mug. Girl!

A naked, not-so-starving girl. Girl! I mowed my way through another can of tomato soup. Then two cans of spaghetti and meatballs. And lastly one more can of mini ravioli. I drank a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

I went back to the shower and used my telekinesis to move all the smellies into a trash bag I got from the supplies. I got some soap and got clean. The shower felt sooooo good. I got out and got dry.

I was a lot closer to Pap’s size than my old one. I went through the stored clothes Pap had for us and grabbed a pair of socks and a set of his Marine Corps sweats. They were too big , but soft and warm.

Ooooh. Fleece is so comfy! This was like all new. I knew what fleece felt like, but I didn’t remember it being this soft.

A tidal wave of tired hit me right then. I looked over to the bunk where I’d… I’d been in. For a moment I was back in that moment. Not being able to breathe, or move. Head filled with noise, lights, and pressure. Feeling it all slipping away.

Thud.

The fall snapped me out of the moment. The comforter, and the bedding… I put it in the shower for now. Yay for telekinesis! ‘Cause ICK!

I climbed up into the bunk farthest from the ICK one. I was asleep in moments.

***

The stone corridor was low. I kept wanting to duck as I walked towards the light. I ran my hand along the stone as I walked. It was cool and smooth. A breeze coming down the corridor caused the flames on my torch to flutter. All I could hear was the crackle and pop from the torch. I made the turn into where the light was coming from. The torches’ light reflected from the golden doors filled the room. Here, unlike in the corridor, the walls were covered in hieroglyphics. The doors inscribed with them in full color. There was a naked bird-headed man standing before the door. Not a hawk head. A small bird head with a long curved beak. A whisper in the back of my mind said ibis. Well built, but that didn’t excite me. Looks like I still like girls? Or, I’m not that into bird headed boys..

I walked up the steps to where the god(?) stood. Hey. He looks like a god. The bird eyes stared at me.

“You seek entrance to the Hall.”

There was no voice, it was in my head. Telepathy.

“Um… What is the hall?”

The bird head did that bird-like twitch and kept staring at me.

“Come again when you know.”

***

I was awake. Wow. I’ve watched way too many history specials on Egypt. I blinked several times, then took a deep breath to yawn.

Ack! Ewww. All I could smell was the muck. ICK! A thick, cloying scent of rot and filth. Shudder. I could almost taste it again.

That's when it finally occurred to me what the muck was.

Me.

Over two-hundred pounds of muck that used to be me.

My whole body shuddered again at the memory of being caked in it.

Looking at my blanketed body, I figured I weighed one-hundred-fifteen, maybe one-hundred-twenty pounds. My brain told me 124 pounds. Almost three-hundred pounds of crud. My brain told me 284 pounds.

That was odd. I was guestimating and then just knew the answer. Weird. And I knew that answer was right.

I sat up and stretched. I pushed my hair out of my eyes. Hair? I pulled some of my hair back in front and looked at the color. Red wine. My hair was the color of red wine.

But first… I took some shower gel and wiped it around my nose to block the stench. And to borrow one of my favorite character’s sayings, let’s be about it.

Between the shower and cleaning supplies I got all the mucky crud out of the bunker. I also got a hell of a workout for my telekinesis. I learned I could control more than one item at a time. By the end I was cleaning five items from great-gran’s bag at a time. It took a couple of hours, or so. My brain told me 2 hours, 4 minutes. Oookay. That’s starting to get spooky.

Okay, I’ve got hair now. And, I’ve got long nails. I set about trimming them. Just because I’m actually a girl now… Girl! I’m not going to give up my love of working with my hands. So I trimmed them close. As I did, I noticed that the skin on my hands and arms was darker than yesterday.

I walked over to the mirror. I had this lovely dark red hair. The color of red wine. The color I’d always wished for. My skin matches the skin tone of the actress Catherine Bell. I’d wished for years that I could look like her. Except for my hair and face, I’ve got her skin tone and figure. Well… I pulled at the collar of the sweatshirt and looked down at my breasts. (Woo-hoo! I’ve got breasts!) They weren’t flat anymore. Not huge, but not flat. Girl!

And I’ve got the face of the girl of my dreams. I look like Dina Meyer’s little sister. Except for the eyes. Hers are a light blue. Mine are like lapis lazuli. Dark rich blue with flecks of gold. Like my great-grandmother’s. They look like I’m wearing colored contacts.

I stared at me in the mirror. I started to cry. My most secret wish, the one that I’d never shared with anyone, came true.

***

I’d been at the computer desk trying to get a connection to the nets for over two hours. Correction, two hours and eleven minutes according to my new mind talent. Having a timer built in is kinda cool. I guess.

I finally cracked the password to the wireless network of the law office across the street. I brought up the news.

Oh god.

“Click here for the latest info: Siege on Washington!” I scanned through the articles quickly. Three days ago, a paramilitary unit called the Americommando executed the largest terrorist strike in history on American soil. It’s isn’t definitely known at this time how, but large scale explosives were detonated near the White House, Capitol Building, Ronald Reagan National Airport, Camp Springs and the Pentagon. The military as well as members of New York’s Gotham Guardians refuse to comment on the rumors of Red Mercury devices being used. In addition, some sources report direct assualts were made on the headquarters of the Aegis Court and the National Archives. As for the Court, none of them have been seen since two days ago when Doctor Zen suddenly appeared the day after the initial attack. There are no definite reports on what happened to the Doctor after his initial encounter with Americommando troops.

Two days ago, Speaker of the House Eureka Niven, while on vacation in home state of California, formally requested aid from the Canadian Government. The CNS Vancouver and her battle group. with the 1^st Canadian Aerial Marines were dispatched within twenty four hours of the request. They met up with the Power Cavalry’s 1^st and 4^th Legions at a staging point just went of Arlington. There was this video of the Vancouver coming down out of the sky to disgorge troops and emergency supplies. At this point, it would appear that Americommando troops have retreated from Washington. Wildfires are still raging through the city as far south as the Washington Navy Yard and as far east as the DC Armory. Firefighters and Rescue Workers from around the country have headed to Washington to help.

In a short press briefing given today, Speaker of the House Niven spoke about how these events, like Pearl Harbor, did nothing more than unite a nation, and that she expects this nation to unite again. Her swearing-in ceremony as President will take place in Sacramento this weekend as announced earlier today.

I sat back and wiped tears from my eyes as I saw the pictures from Washington. Tens of thousands dead in the streets. The fires. The Washington Mall, gone. The Smithsonian, gone. It was so big. It didn’t seem real.

Pap. He helped these fucking scumbags get Beth and the others. Oh my god.

I crawled back up into my bunk, grabbed my pillow and cried.

Pap.

*** Hi. Normally, this would be where I beg and plead for kudos and comments. Instead, I’m putting this story on hiatus for a couple of reasons. First, interest seems to be waning. Second, I’ve got ideas for other stories. I think I went too dark, made things too hard for Archie, and alienated a lot of readers. So I want to thank all of you who stuck it through this far. I can’t explain how much it means to me that you enjoyed my work. ***

*** Author’s Note: Unless specifically noted, Italicized text are thoughts, Italicized text inside parentheses is from Archie’s answer thingy. ***

*** Rebirth Part II ***

I lay there, tears in my eyes, crushing my pillow in a full body hug, and thought about Pap. The man who’d raised me. Loved me. My only family. I tried to call up memories of us working on a project together. All I saw in my head were the burned clumps that used to be people across the Washington Mall.

“Okay.” I sat up and set aside my pillow and that thought. Enough. Pap did what he did. Crying about it doesn’t change anything. I sighed. “Time to be logical. I’m supposed to be a genius. So let’s be about it.” Right now, all I have is me to depend on. Time to girl up.

I got down from the bunk and went over to the computer desk. I started pacing. “I can’t pass for Archie anymore. “ I looked down at my breasts. Girl! “That’s for sure. But I have no ID for who I am now…”

I sat down at the computer desk, and tapped into the WiFi signal from the law office again. I went to my cloud storage and got the information I used for my proxy server. It would take a bit of time to get things set up, but for what I was about to do, I didn’t want to be tracked down. I’d have to use a proxy to find and contact people who could make a new identity for me.

Pap’s friend would be looking for me. I’m sure that fucking gunk they put in me was very very expensive. They’ll want a return on their investment. He’ll be lucky if I don’t Vader-choke him to death if I see him first. Thinking about being pinned on that bed, and the liquid fire pumping in my veins made me angry. No. It made me mad.

Rage. Years of pent up frustrated anger began to flow like a burst water main. Things around me began to shake. I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm myself. It didn’t help. I never thought I’d have a full on Akira moment. I stood up, hair rustling like in a breeze, my clothes rippling. Then it was clear.

I knew what to do.

I knew what I was sick of.

I strode to the hatch. That angry purposeful single stride at a time walk. Things flying around behind me. Lights blew out. I smelled the ozone from the electronics after the computer was torn apart. I got to the bottom of the hatch.

Anger I knew. An old familiar friend. Frustration. Hate. I felt it. Reveled in it. Then I took all of it and shoved upward.

Now, lying on top of the bunker’s hatch, were a case of motor oil, a set of original headers for a 351 Cleveland motor, an old Muncie Rockcrusher transmission, and the rear axle from a ’58 Roadmaster.

They never did find both headers.

***

Janelle Lewis twitched, she’d been daydreaming for a moment and caught herself. It was all too easy to let your mind wander in the isolation tanks, but the effect it had on psi sensitivity couldn’t be duplicated as easily or as cheaply. She had been in the sensory deprivation tank for two hours, she had a half hour left in her shift when she felt it. A pulse of raw psionic energy, full of frustration and rage. She felt the anger fueling that blast. It was one of the strongest pulses of psi energy she’d ever felt while scanning.

Where are you… Janelle followed the pulse back towards its source. Her astral self flying towards where the pulse had come from. Fortunately it was close to Chicago where Janelle and the others were located. She got to the northeast side of Indianapolis and the trail was gone. Gone completely, and that shouldn’t be possible. Normally. Quickly, she pulled herself back into her body. Janelle reached out and around, slow-motion flailing in the perfect darkness until she touched the side of the tank. She pounded on the side until she heard the hatch opening.

The Deep Room, as it was called, was always dark. Lit only by a couple of red lights on either side of the room. There were four sensory deprivation tanks, a shower in the corner and a large desk. Deena was on watch, coordinating what the scanners found. The light from her laptop was the only other light in the room.

“What’s up, J?” She asked as she opened the hatch to Tank #4. Deena helped Janelle out of the tank, “You found something?”

“Biggest pulse of Psi I’ve felt in a long time. Not far away, either. Indy.” Janelle went straight over to the shower to wash the epsom salt-heavy water off of her body. Deena took a thick towel from the stack next to the hatch and set it out for Janelle to use.

“Get dry and get dressed. You know the Lady will want to hear what you saw. I’ll call your relief in early.”

Janelle grabbed the towel, dried herself quickly and grabbed her robe. “Thanks, Deena. I appreciate it.” As Janelle put on her terrycloth robe, Deena sent a message to the Lady’s assistant letting her know that Janelle would be on her way.

***

The release of all that emotion and energy had been like a cleansing. It felt good. Draining, but good. Then I realized I could see the night sky through the hole in the ceiling above the hatch.

“Holy shit.” I really need to stop talking to myself. I need to watch my language too. It just sounds weird now.

Well, that definitely set off the restoration shop’s silent alarm, and with Pap’s friends in the IPD, it won’t be long before I have company. I grabbed the crazy bag, and started telekinetically grabbed things to take with me. I found great-gran’s journals, and some of her other stuff. Somehow I only destroyed the end of the bunker where the computer and other electronics were. I also threw in a case of canned pasta, a case of bottled water, a box of plastic flatware, and the little crystal golf ball. (Orb), the thingy in my head told me, with a capital O. I didn’t touch it. Even with my telekinesis, I felt like I was holding it by my fingertips at arms length. I was afraid of what might happen. After all, the last time it killed me.

Now packed, I slung the Bag over my shoulder and it changed. It went from a white oversized purse/small grocery bag to a brown leather messenger bag. It looked and felt like old, butter soft, distressed leather. The Orion emblem (Osiris), my brain’s mysterious answer thingy corrected me, was much smaller now. It was a faded gold now, with a circle around it like a logo on the right side of the flap.

I looked at the bag, ran my hand over the logo and then shook my head. I re-slung it cross-body and went to the hatch. Hey, it looks like an Indiana Jones bag, I’m going to wear it like an Indiana Jones bag.

It felt right, wearing the bag like that. Now I’ve got to get out of here. I turned and headed towards the ladder leading out of the bunker, and stopped. In the mirror as I passed the shower, was a different woman. Same hair. Same figure. Different face. My eyes were the same, just a different face. What the hell? What is… I started to feel a little light-headed. I touched my face, seeing my hand touch the stranger’s face in the mirror. My skin was splotchy. Paler in some spots, darker in others. My beautiful wine-red hair was sky blue in places. I stared at my face for another moment, Well? What is going on with me? I waited, hoping that the mysterious answer thingy in my head would tell me something.

Nothing. Thanks creepy answer thingy. I gave my new face another glance. Somehow I had the notion that it wasn’t done changing yet. I hope that it won’t be too bad in the end. Time to go.

I went to the ladder and almost fell against it as I got dizzy. Got to get out of here. I grabbed the rungs and started to climb. Can’t get caught here. I got halfway up the ladder when I heard voices. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were in the shop and headed my way. Great. Indy’s finest had a fast response time tonight.

The dizziness got worse, and all I could think of was Agent Dick finally getting to lock me away. Need to run! I thought about being handcuffed again, and my imagination made the jump to light speed. My mind filled with this scene of Agent Dick groping me while I was handcuffed to a chair like in the old cop shows. Get away! I freaked out, my skin crawling and it was all I could do to keep from screaming. I tried to slap away hands only I could see and fell away from the ladder.

***

Janelle padded her way down the long concrete aisle. It was dark, the big overhead fluorescent lights were off. The only light coming from the small wall lights next to each door. She never would get completely comfortable living in a converted ballistic missile silo. She got to the wooden door that led to the Lady’s office. Janelle knocked lightly and waited.

“Come.” The voice was deep, low and melodic. Janelle sighed softly, the Lady had watched way too much Star Trek.

The room was warm and cozy. The floors, walls and even the ceiling were covered in wood. The furniture was wooden as well. All of it handcrafted teak. The light was dim, just like the hallway, with the only light sources the fire in the hearth along the back wall of the room, and the oil lamp on the desk.

The woman stood alone in front of the fire, dressed in a simple gray silk robe and was entirely inhuman. Besides her height, just from appearances, the Lady Urza looked like a an attractive woman of indeterminate years. The kind of beauty that you can’t easily pin down for age. But in her presence, you felt it. She wasn’t human. Her body language was off, she had the oddest habit of tilting her head when she looked at you. It was the eyes though. When you got close enough, you noticed her reptilian eyes. And then there was her voice.

“Tell me, Janelle. You sensed something important, yes?” The throaty deep baritone voice just didn’t match its owner.

“Yes, milady.” Janelle curtseyed. The Lady was very much a stickler for politeness. “East of here. Near or in Indianapolis’ east side.”

The Lady nodded her head, but used her neck to do it. “Thank you, Janelle. Tell me, did what you sense have a flavor? Can you tell me what kind of Psi you felt?” As she asked, Lady Urza tilted her head, staring at Janelle. “Of its wielder, what did you discern?”

Janelle nodded in reply, “Yes, milady. If felt like telekinesis but I’ve never felt a teke that strong before. Also, there was a lot of anger in it.”

“And is this wielder male or female?”

“I think female, but there was so much rage I’m not sure.”

The Lady Urza turned back towards the fire in the hearth and made what sounded like a low hiss. “Thank you, Janelle. Please let Deirdre know that her services I will be requiring. That is all.” The Lady made a gentle dismissive wave with her hand, but did not turn back from the fire.

***

I fell. Oh god! Then there was this moment of nothingness. Nothing, no light, sound or smell. Then I was falling again. I landed on my water bed. At home. Home. Safe. The bed’s motion was turbulent for a few moments, but I didn’t care. I was home. The dizziness was gone, and I was more tired than I’ve ever remembered being. I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.

*** Author’s Note: Unless specifically noted, Italicized text are thoughts, Italicized text inside parentheses is from Athena’s answer thingy. ***

The wolf slowly got up, pulling her tail away from her muzzle without dumping snow on her nose. She shook the rest of the snow from her fur and tasted the air. She smelled the remains of the elk she’d brought down earlier. The wolf took a deep breath, loving the cold, especially here in the mountains. She stretched. A good run is what she needed, she decided. Still feeling stuffed from all of the elk she ate before, a run to the lakeshore and then back to the stone would be perfect.

The breeze picked up, causing swirls of powdery snow to spin in the air. The wolf bounded off through the woods towards the lake, her tail wagging with joy.

***

I woke up cold, but then I was laying on top of a water bed that’s been without power for weeks. Cold! I was stiff and a little sore. Getting up, I stretched. It was dim but enough light filtered in from the hallway’s windows to see in the room. It was surreal. My old familiar bedroom, but it all felt different. Smaller. This is so cool! I grabbed my ankles and looked back through the gap in my legs at the back wall of my room, upside down. Never could do that before. I put getting a yoga disc on my mental to-do list. Maybe one of the more aggressive ones, like the one that ex-pro wrestler made.

I straightened up, twisting from side to side. I felt good. The soreness was going away along with the stiffness. It just felt so good to move around. I went to my old closet and grabbed my largest shirt. It hung below my knees, but it was warm. I went to my desk, sat down and grabbed a notepad and pen.

Okay. I’m home. I was on the ladder, half way to the hatch, get dizzy, freak out let go and then I’m here. I caught my reflection in the mirror. My face had changed again. Still red hair and blue eyes. Pale skin and a light dusting of freckles. Sigh. At least I’m still pretty? Like girl next door cute. I wish my face would figure out what I’m going to look like and stick.

I shook my head, and for a moment reveled in the feel of my hair moving. Girl!

It couldn’t have been the Doc’s spell. That’s how I got to the Bunker. And, the blue thread was gone after I got there.

I hoped the little guy was okay. I’d be dead or worse if not for him. If it wasn’t the Doc, how did I get here? My toes were tapping. I felt so good. I needed to just move, y’know? I got up. I knew what I needed and where to do it.

Heading down the stairs, I got to the window which looked out on the backyard. The same backyard that was behind the restoration shop.

The same restoration shop that was now crawling with DMA agents and Indianapolis Police officers. With the window film, they couldn’t see in. I didn’t take any chances though. I watched from the side of the window. It had to be something like mid-morning. (9:47)

For the first time, it seemed, I really heard the answer thingy. It doesn’t sound like me in my head. I mean, it’s me. But not me. Where’s Burt Ward to say, “Holy Split Personalities!” when you need him?

So, I’ve got telekinesis, a mysterious answer-thingy and teleportation. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it had to be teleportation. Shiny! I slipped through the house as quiet as possible. I didn’t want to give any potential listener the idea someone was home. The nice agents next door might want to see my I.D. Which is almost six hundred miles away and has a completely different me in the picture.

I got down to the basement. It was divided up into four parts. Pap’s gym and sauna (a meta-rated bowflex machine and a one man sauna), storage (where we put stuff that needs to stay in the house), the walk-in pantry (pretty much empty since we donated most of what we had stocked since we didn’t know when exactly we’d be back), and Pap’s armory (an old style vault a friend of his helped him get down here). Hey, don’t blame me, that’s what Pap called it. That’s where he keeps his guns and a few other things.

“Time for me to find out some things about this new body of mine.”

***

The wolf made it to the stone before mid day. With a moment of will, her fur and form flowed leaving behind a young human woman. Even with the temperature at near freezing, the naked girl didn’t seem to care. She moved the stone and retrieved her bracelet. The bracelet was made from heavy silver decorated in celtic knot work and odd runes, with a large emerald in an orange metal setting. After fitting it back on her wrist, she ran her finger around the orange metal setting and said a word of power. The green gem dissolved into a small cloud of green bubbles. The bubbles flowed slowly and smoothly into a ring about three feet across, hanging in mid-air. The girl waited, then the space inside the ring turned a featureless gray. She crouched and stepped through.

She felt too warm for a moment as the temperature change struck her. Abruptly going from a mile high in the Canadian Rockies to her quarters was a momentary shock. She pulled on a pair of panties, and a sports bra that she had left lying on the bed before she had went north. Her quarters were very simply furnished. A bed, dresser and a desk with a laptop on it. She laid the heavy bracelet down next to the laptop. One corner of the room had a standing torch lamp. Opening a drawer in the dresser she pulled out a pair of loose fitting sweatpants. While putting those on, she noticed the note by the door to her quarters.

Picking it up, it read: Hey D. Hope you had fun. The Lady has a job for you asap. ~J.

Deirdre exhaled hard from her nose. Not quite a sigh, not quite a snort. She opened the door and headed off to see Lady Urza.

***

I need a shower. I need a few sports bras. Scratch that, I just really need a completely new wardrobe. I also need a triple cheeseburger with everything, or a real steakburger from Harry & Izzy’s with a cup of their tomato basil bisque and one of their Downtown Special thin crust pizzas. Oh god that sounds sooooo good right now! I can’t remember the last time I felt this hungry.

Working out had left me drenched in sweat. I loved it. I’d spent a couple of hours on the bowflex, trying to see what my physical limits were now. I can bench press over four hundred pounds. Awesome! I’m not Dame Power, but not bad at all. I don’t get tired that easy either. At least not with the physical stuff. I thought about experimenting with my new powers. But I was pretty certain that it might not be the best idea. Behind the house is our little back yard. It’s fenced in, but there’s a good locked gate between it and the storage yard for the shop. That’s where we kept project cars, and other such stuff. Old soda pop machines, gas pumps. Mostly bare now. Over there in the storage yard is where the DMA agents and IPD were still going over the bunker. I’m waiting until they leave before trying anything.

I used a few bottles of water and gave myself a quick bath with a washcloth. My hair was disgusting, even though I used an entire bottle of water rinsing it. I had a plan, it would have to wait until later tonight, but I think it will work. I put on another pair of Pap’s Corps sweats.

I ran back upstairs, taking them two at a time with ease. Grabbed the leather bag and went back downstairs. I curled up in the old leather recliner Pap had given me last year for Christmas. I opened the bag and pulled out Great-Gran’s journals and three cans of mini ravioli. As I read through them (while slurping through all three cans of pasta), I found out a few things. One, I can speed-read. Nice! Two, there wasn’t much of anything in them. Oh don’t get me wrong, there were tons of entries. But there wasn’t any emotional in them. It seemed more of just a logbook than a journal or a diary. The last entry in them was for the day before she disappeared the first time. She was gone for almost a year. When she came back, she had an infant child with her. Pap.

Sighing softly, I sat there. Not for the first time I looked at the computer on my desk that had no power. If I could connect safely to the internet, I could start setting things up. Waiting for nighttime was driving me crazy. I put the last of Great-Gran’s journals down. I went over to the bed and dumped everything out of the bag again. There it was. The crystal orb. I took a fountain pen from the bag and tapped the orb. No reaction.

I took the old pistol in hand. It was an old Savage sliver gun. These things were outlawed after World War II. I was pretty familiar with them, Pap owned two of them. Taught me to shoot them. Just in case. Pap’s are single shot models. This had the spray option, that fired a cloud of sharper than razor flechettes. Brutal. It took me a few moments, but I got the block of polymer out of it and set the weapon aside. I unloaded the plastic Remington pistol and set it aside as well. Same with the sets of manacles. They didn’t look special. I took my tablet and set it aside. I rolled the orb over next to my tablet. There were three wine bottles. 1927 Bollinger Special Cuvee. I think James Bond drank Bollinger in the books. I put those gently aside. I bet those might be worth something.

I looked back to the orb. The last time I touched it, I almost died. What doesn’t make sense is why great-gran would keep something like it in her magic bag. That’s assuming that the orb would affect everyone the way it affected me. I don’t think she’d keep something like that loose in the bag. I could see keeping it in a box, or some sort of container. Also, there’s no mention of it in her journal or case notes. That makes me think it’s something that belonged to her, not something from a case or adventure.

Part of me really wants to pick it up. Just to see what happens. The sane part of me thinks that’s stupid since I almost died the last time I held it in my hand. Sunset can’t get here soon enough.

***

Deirdre walked into the Lady’s room and waited. She didn’t like it in here. She didn’t like the way the Lady smelled. It didn’t matter though. Duty.

“Your services I require once more, my wolf.” The melodic baritone voice didn’t seem to faze Deirdre. “In the city they call Indianapolis, there is a psychic of power.” Lady Urza walked over to one of the bookshelves lining the walls of her office, and began running her fingers down the leather spines of the books. “I want her, of course. Take Phulia and Jack. Bring her here.” The Lady moved over to Deirdre, “I know you, my wolf. Yes. Indeed, I know you.” Moving around her in a circle now, “I know that you loathe her, my demented little Phulia. You may need her to disable my prize. I want her with as little damage as possible. You know this.” She continued to circle Deirdre. “Jack will handle Phulia and her… manner. I would not ask that of you, no.” Lady Urza stepped closer to Deirdre, their faces inches apart. She reached out and slowly caressed Deirdre’s cheek with the back of her hand. “My beautiful, noble wolf.” There was a slight frown on the Lady’s face at the complete lack of reaction to her touch. “Find her.” She turned and went to the desk, putting a hand onto the desk, gently caressing the wood before saying back over her shoulder, “That will be all.”

***

The day had dragged by, I spent it reading books. I love speed reading! Peter David’s Psi-Man, Bailey Summers’ Rook, New Jedi Order, and Roald Dahl’s Matilda. It gave me a ton of ideas to try with my TK. I’d repacked the bag. I went back down to the basement. I had been thinking about this off and on all day, I didn’t want to do it. But it’s the only way I can restart my life. I went over to Pap’s vault. I opened the door. I ignored the guns. I did grab a few of the blocks of ballistic polymer and a few replacement cavorite firing points from the ammo stores. I opened the strongbox. It was full of money. There was about fifteen thousand dollars in mostly hundreds. I looked at it for a long while, then put it in the bag. Underneath all of that, there was a thick envelope. I opened it and found a bound stack of thousand dollar bills Canadian. That’s almost a quarter million dollars here in the States. I had no idea Pap had that kind of money. I held the envelope in my hand. I thought about Pap helping hold me down while they shot that crud into me. I thought about all those dead people in Washington. The fires on the Mall. I put the envelope into the bag. I locked everything back up then took a look around. I stuffed a bunch of my web auction stuff into the bag as well. I bought and resold leather goods. Made a little money on the side up until a year ago specializing in steampunk stuff.

I had found an old pair of sneakers of mine. With a couple extra pairs of socks they kinda fit. Sorta. Okay, not really. I packed in some knickknacks and stuff from my room. Favorite books that hadn’t made the trip to D.C., my stuffed dog (I couldn’t take it on the trip, teenage boys don’t need stuffies), pillows and my favorite old comforter. Pillows are important. Besides I wouldn’t be coming back here. The bag weighed more now. Slightly. (Operations Bag near capacity) Whoa. Okay. That is… just… so weird!

I peeked out the window and saw the lights were off over at the restoration shop. Time to go. I went to the garage and checked out the old military Can Am bike. Pap had me put stabilizer in all the gas tanks before we left. I loved the bike. It was one of the first restoration projects I’d done on my own. I never had the heart to sell it. I’d always hoped I’d be able to ride it some day. Here we go. I opened the side door to the garage and pushed the bike out. I closed the door and locked it. Hid the key under the mat, and then pushed the bike down into the street.

It took a couple of tries, but the bike started up and then I took off.

A new me, a new life, it all starts now.