ATALANTA'S STORY Chapter One written by Katelyn and edited by William Durr. A boy and his mother move to New Mexico for a new start after her husband and his father goes down over Iraq. The "Land of Enchantment" gives him more than he bargained for.I copied and pasted this from word and the paragraphs didn't format with a space between. Any errors are mine not Bill's. This is my first attempt but I would like your comments. Also this story starts slow but the pace does pick up and it is complete.

Atalanta’s Story
Introduction
How can I tell the story of Atalanta in the context of male to female transformation fiction? The idea fascinates me in that Atalanta displays both male and female strengths that I believe lends it well to TS storytelling.
What elements do I want in this story; the hero/heroine is magically changed into a girl in her teens, from Alan to Atalanta at 13 years old with help from her mom who is a doctor. They have just moved to New Mexico from Pennsylvania for a second chance after her husband goes down over Iraq one year earlier. The change took place over three days.
The hero/heroine is changed into a woman/girl in their teens.
Alan is transformed to Atalanta at 13 years old.
His mom is a doctor whose husband is killed in a military exercise one year earlier.
Alan as a boy was effeminate in appearance and manner. After the transformation while his body definitely became more feminine his mannerisms became more masculine.
How did the change occur?
My mom decides to become an on site Dr. for a Spa that also billed itself as a retreat. Judy, the owner who was a college roommate of Liz Reed, had offered her the position.
The change occurs near one of the ‘outposts’ the complex built for a nature experience. Alan and Liz decided to take a break at the ‘outpost’. Sightsee a little then watch the sunset and head home. That was the plan, a plan that got sidetracked and delayed by several hours.

Chapter One

Alan separated from the group and became lost as he stumbled into a blind canyon. Though they both had phones and were in communication, neither she nor he could find the entrance to the canyon. Their guide was just as confused as Liz was. When the connection was lost to either a dead battery or the rocky terrain Liz became frantic and called Judy at the main house. Judy said she would be right out after she contacted the local search and rescue headquarters.

Judy was advised to build a large fire in the hopes that Alan might see it and find them. It was also used as point check for the plane that was readying for a dawn aerial search.

Of course that was called off when he came into camp a little before midnight ... he came in from the west when the direction should have been south. The guide used that trail as sheer cliffs prevented east-west passage and into the narrow valley he had walked down.

Both Liz and Judy noticed Alan seemed different, a difference that was hard to pinpoint ... they both sensed it. For one thing he seemed to have grown an inch taller ... possibly more! Alan had just experienced a growth spurt going from 5’4” to 5’7” in a matter of a couple of months though his frame remained slender almost girlish.

The onset of puberty had changed his voice very little from adolescent but even that little bit of deepening was absent from his voice. His speech pattern, tone, and inflections seemed to have subtly shifted.

Liz had noticed that hugging him his nipples poking out tent poling the front of his t- shirt and he seemed to have extra padding on his hips and butt as well.

Judy drove them back to the complex with Liz riding shotgun and Alan in back curled up asleep.
“Alan seems a little different,” Judy observed carefully adding, “Don’t you think?”

Liz smiled wearily, “You noticed?”

“Just a couple of things that might have been moonlight playing tricks,” Judy offered hopefully.

“Nothing I’d swear to in open court,” Judy began, “But his shirt and pants seemed a little tighter than I remember. His voice seemed to be a touch softer and his cadence more varied. Again though nothing I’d swear to,” Judy replied being careful in her description.

Liz replied softly, “You are not mistaken; he has changed ... or is changing. The real question is how far will this change go and how and why.”

Parked in front of her cottage both women turned to look at the sleeping form in the backseat. His long reddish blonde hair curled around his shoulders framing a decidedly feminine face with his slim nose, soft jaw line and chin accentuated by pouty naturally tinted lips. Framing that beautiful face was thin arched eyebrows and long thick eyelashes hinted at the sparkle surely contained in those widely set eyes. Both women then took in his padded frame and gasped.

“What the hell happened out there,” Liz whispered urgently.

Judy remained quiet for a long time before answering, “I don’t know but what I do know is the changes I spoke earlier as seeing and not being sure I would swear to it is not what we saw back at camp. I think he has changed more in the drive here.”

Liz paused to look intently before answering softly, “There is no way that she can or will be mistaken for a he.”

“I don’t know how complete ... the change is ... but for all appearances she is female now,” agreed Judy.

“I ... we need a plan,” Liz began hesitantly and then more forcefully as the professional in her began to exert control. “I think we should document the process as accurately as possible. I will take a blood sample tonight and prepare it checking for hormone levels, blood gases and fluid levels. Tomorrow I will need to go in the big city and have a cat scan and ultra sound done on her. We need to see if she has developed a female reproductive system yet and if she hasn’t or can’t, see if SRS can be used later on.”

“SRS,” Judy interjected.

“Sexual Reassignment Surgery,” Liz explained, “or SRS is performed on transgendered women to construct a vagina using her penis and sack for her labia and vagina. I’d like to know if she has sufficient depth and width in case this process stops short. As we have already observed she can’t ever go back to being Alan.”

Judy arched an eyebrow at Liz, “SRS seems a little outside of general practice.”

“It is,” Liz agreed, “Alan has always leaned towards the feminine side and the older he got the more it seemed natural for him. I did some research in case the subject came up.”

“I see,” Judy replied thoughtfully, “well if you get blood tonight and then tomorrow in the big city we will have a baseline 12 and 24 hours afterwards ...”

“Good idea,” exclaimed Liz, “I’ll present her as a Jane Doe transgender patient seeking confirmation for her diagnosis and subsequent surgery. Later I will take her to another clinic for another scan and see if she is developing inside.”

“Are you coming back tomorrow,” Judy asked.

“If I can then yeah, I think it will be best if she gets rest and quiet until we know more. But I need to pick up the clinic supplies, the tests run and blood drawn and a small wardrobe for her to wear ... so I don’t know if I have time.”

“I’ll go with you, pick up the supplies while you’re getting the tests done, and go shopping. Speaking of that we can take her measurements once we get her inside and undressed as both another baseline and a reference for her sizes.”

“Judy ... thanks, I really appreciate it,” Liz answered as she opened her door and went over to the driver’s side to help Judy rouse Alan from her stupor. Both women guided him inside and into his bedroom where he mildly protested as they undressed him. There was a brief moment of embarrassment as they removed his briefs and saw his diminished size. Wordlessly they took his measurements and placed him under the covers as he remained in a semi-conscious state probably in shock.

Judy prepared coffee while Liz drew blood and took his BP and pulse determined to take his BP every hour for the next couple of hours after the shock of seeing him naked.

Later as they sat around the table sipping coffee Liz broached the subject both had avoided, “Judy it has been several years since I helped him with his bath but I’m sure he was more developed then. I didn’t know whether to hug him or cry. The mother in me wants to snatch him up and rush him to the ER while the Dr. in me knows that what I’m doing right now is all that the ER will do. I don’t know how much he will be changed or how dangerous it might be.”

“Liz I have reconsidered what we should do after we got him inside. I think it is obvious that you will and it is probably prudent that you continue to take his vitals for the next few hours. Since it is already after 1 a.m., the earliest you can get any sleep is after 4 a.m. I don’t think it will do anybody any good if we wreck on the way or are out of our minds if we get there. I will use your guest room and set my watch for 7 a.m., which gives me a good 5 hrs of sleep. You meanwhile keep check on his vitals and if everything looks good you go to bed.”

“He should be all right for the 3 hours we are both asleep. I’ll get up check his vitals go to my place to freshen up and pack, tell my assistants a condensed version of what we are doing and get me breakfast and bring some back for you and Alan. I’ll again take his vitals and wake you up.”

Judy paused and continued saying, “After you get ready we will wake Alan get her ready to travel and depending on what you have that will fit her we will either stop in town or shop in the big city. If we leave soon after 10am we should be in the big city about 1pm enough time for you to have the tests you want done. I get done what I need to in the meantime and we layover for the night and return tomorrow. You are the doc but I think the worst will be past by then. And if the worst does come the big city has better medical facilities.”

Liz reflected on what Judy had said and replied, “It is not perfect but is as good as we can do under the circumstances. While I don’t like leaving him alone for 3 hrs there is not much help for it and is a good idea for us to get some sleep. I like being in the big city if something serious starts too. Let’s do it.”

Judy got up, went to the guest bedroom, and was soon fast asleep. Liz followed suit 3 hrs later doubting whether sleep would come but it did and she slept soundly. Liz was roused the next morning with Judy gently shaking her, “Wake up sleepy head,” Judy teased.

“How is Alan and what time is it?”

“Alan is fine, she is eating breakfast, and it is about a quarter ‘till nine.” Liz was wide-awake as she threw back the covers revealing she had slept fully clothed and followed Judy into the kitchen.

Alan was indeed sitting and slowly eating with a glass of juice beside her. Liz helped herself to coffee and breakfast sitting down beside Alan. Between bites she asked Alan, “How are you and how are you feeling this morning?”

Alan paused with the juice glass in her hand, “Pretty good considering but I seem to be in a mental fog which maybe why I haven’t really freaked out over growing breasts, hips that feel a mile wide, a little girl’s voice and a face that belongs to a model.”

Liz noticed he had not mentioned his genitals. “Anything else,” she gently inquired.

“Since I woke up naked this morning I guessed you know ...,” he trailed off mainly embarrassed.

“I didn’t bring that up to embarrass you but I do want you understand the severity of the changes. If as I suspect you are changing into a complete woman then those outside changes down there are indicative of internal restructuring which at some point ends with you having complete female genitals. If the process gives you the correct interior plumbing but stops short of a vaginal opening then you could have internal bleeding which will require emergency surgery to save your life.”
Seeing the near panic in her eyes Liz quickly reassured Alan, “That is the worst case which is conjecture at this point but the tests in the big city will help us determine the extent of the changes. To do that without a lot of questions asked or suspicions raised requires your help.”

“I don’t understand,” Alan mumbled.

Liz continued patiently explaining, “I am going to present you as a Jane Doe TS patient transitioning from male to female and these test are documentation for a future SRS. To pull that deception off you will need to dress appropriately... in a woman’s wardrobe.”

Recognition hit Alan and he relied, “I see well, I need both of you to help me then.”

“You got it,” both Judy and Liz chorused with Liz adding, “I need to take your measurements and see if I have anything you can wear, if not we will stop in town for a quick change of clothes otherwise straight into the big city where we will get you a wardrobe. Now stand up while I get your measurements and Judy writes them down, then you go and clean up. Hurry daylight is burning.”

When Alan had left the room Liz asked how much change had occurred since last night.

“Two inches in the waist, three in the hips and two in the chest and she is now nearly a “C” cup which I believe is due mainly to loss of mass in the shoulders. She now measures 32-26-30.

Together they went into Liz’s bedroom where she rummaged in her closet choosing a pair of white Capri’s and top and matching bra and panties with black flats completing the look.

“Will you help her dress while I wash off and pack,” Liz asked handing her a scrunchie for Alan’s hair. Judy nodded as she carried the clothes into Alan’s room where she heard the water running.

“Need any help,” she called out.

“I’ll be out in a minute.

Minutes later Alan appeared with a towel wrapped around her and blushing furiously. Wordlessly Judy handed her the panties that she slid on and settled them in place. Judy noted the almost perfect smooth female presentation and handed over the Capri and the flats. Judy helped her with the bra noticing the c cups were too large and lastly the blouse. “I help you with your hair,” Judy said combing and brushing her hair before tying it back with the scrunchie.”

“Let go see if your mom is ready.” As they walked into the kitchen Liz appeared from the bedroom with her luggage in hand. The three walked out together with Judy getting behind the wheel, Liz in the passenger seat and Alan in the back.

At 9:45 a.m. they pulled onto the state maintained road to town and then the interstate.

Nearing town Judy said, “I will stop at the department store and run in and get her better fitting bra and panties. You two can wait out here if you like; I won’t be but a minute.”

Some 20 minutes later Judy had returned carrying a shopping bag and handing it to Liz who looking into the bag exclaimed, “There is more than bra and panties in here.”

“Guilty, I got a couple of tops and tees and a pair of cute shorts and other Capri pants. Oh and a darling pair of sandals and they were on sale.”

Later on the interstate Liz handed a bra and the sandals to Alan, “Try these on,” she said. Wordlessly Alan began to unbutton her blouse but stopped when Liz squealed, “No don’t take off your blouse change your bra underneath it,” she directed turning around in her seat assisted Alan in making the exchange. She watched critically as he tried on the sandals that did fit and looked better.

As she turned back into her seat, she and Judy exchanged knowing looks. “Alan you have been awfully quiet are you alright?

“I guess so,” Alan responded quietly.

“Well we need to talk, dear,” Liz began, “We should be arriving at the center in a couple of hours. Alan as a name doesn’t fit you now, how does Alana sound for now?”

Alan ran the name over her tongue a couple of times, “It sounds fine and it is pretty close to my original name. I think that is good at least for now but I’d like to think so more before deciding to keep it permanent.”

Liz thought her response indicated an awareness level that was reassuring and decided continued to encourage elicit responses.

“I’d like for you to think back to yesterday to when we got separated, do you remember where we were?”

Alana stilled her breathing calming her mind: they were in an ancient dry riverbed, which offered easier passage through the rough landscape. A twisted juniper clung tenaciously to the far bank, a lone sentinel standing against spring floods, summer droughts, and winter’s bleakness as testament to tenacity and commitment.

“I was behind you by about twenty yards almost across from the old twisted tree when you all disappeared behind a boulder. When I got there, a faint winding trail led up into the cliff face and I could hear your voices coming right in front of me. And I hurried through several turns and came out into a flat grass valley about 50 yards long and about half that wide. There was no sign of the group and no voices either. That is when I called you and every path led to a dead-end.”

Liz quickly replied, “I remember that tree but there was not any boulders. We did drop down into what was undoubtedly an ancient pool that was 6 or 8 feet deep. Our guide pointed out several layers of sediment on the sides accumulated over the centuries. After a couple of minutes I went in search for you.”

At that point Judy piped in, “I know that tree very well and its location. The canyon walls there are at 30 yards away there and vary a bit but they are nowhere near close enough to for anyone to disappear behind. Alana it appears some kind of magic was used to deceive you. The canyon and cliffs are rugged and impenetrable to the west without several days to the south to go around. In other words to get from where you disappeared to where you appeared in hours is impossible except straight through the cliffs.”

Alana continued, “At the back of the valley backed against the cliff sat a stone structure with a waterfall tumbling from the cliffs. Close inspection showed the stone building had a door opening but no door, window openings and no windows, a roof support structure but no roof. The water falling hit a giant boulder some 50’-75’ in the air spraying a mist all around me resulting in a rainbow of colors that filled the air and even seem to coat the grass and the pool. I suddenly got tired and lay down, and when I woke up it was almost dark. I found a cave behind the water and followed it to where I saw you fire.”

“I know that area well and nothing like has ever been seen before to my knowledge. I’ll have some men plant several posts near that place and rope them together. At least if the posts and rope are held onto then no one should wander off.”

“Good idea Judy,” replied Liz.

Liz then turned to her son now her daughter in the back and asked, “I have a question for you ... Alana. Did you ever think about being a woman or if you should have been born female.”

Alana replied barely audible, “My earliest memories are that something was wrong with my body. I don’t know if I ever expressed it to you or not mom.”

“Not that I remember,” Liz confessed. “Any more memories like that,” Liz encouraged her.

“Not for several years and even then it was brought about noticing my physical size was more like a girl’s than boys. And I was teased about it, not much but some. I wouldn’t say it was a serious thought more like a ‘what if’ exercise. It could also be that had I gave it serious thought might have forced me to look at thing I didn’t want to look at.”

They rode the rest of the trip in relative silence and once in the big city Liz had Judy stop at the lab to leave the blood vials and at the last minute decided to have Alana’s urine tested. She was told the results might be ready as early as that evening.

They found the center that Liz had called earlier and Judy went in with them to confirm the appointments. Once confirmed Judy left to pick-up the clinic’s supplies and secure a room for the night.

In the hospital Liz helped Alana undress for the tests donning the standard gown and safely storing her street clothes.
Liz assured her that she was in the next room when the scan was performed reading the images displayed as they became available. She furrowed her brow at the echoes that seemed to hint at possible tumors growing in her belly. The technician pointed this out to Liz and suggested follow-ups with an oncologist.

Liz agreed that it did look early stage but said she had an oncologist that she referred with in Philly. Next were the x-rays and then getting dressed to leave. Liz had called Judy who was waiting for them as they left and took them to their lodgings for the night, a three-room duplex and kitchenette. Judy had also picked up the samples Liz had left earlier at the lab.

Judy had also done a grocery run: snacks, soda, wine, beer, breakfast items, and juice. She had brought their luggage in, stored the groceries, and all that needed their immediate attention was dinner. Sitting around the table, delivery pizza was agreed on and they called a national chain that claimed they would have it in 30 minutes or less.

Any pain or discomfort Liz asked taking Alana’s BP and pulse frowning slightly at what seemed erratic readings.

“No pain but I am a bit bloated,” she confessed.

“Bloated?” Liz asked.

“Yeah, like you eat something that doesn’t digest. I’m not certain I can eat anything. I’ll try a little juice.”

“Dear why do you go and change into your nightgown and I will bring in your juice. It has been a long day.”

“Thanks mom, I believe I will.”

After Alana had left the room Judy leaned closer and whispered, “What gives?”

“The tests from the lab confirm that her biology is normal for a healthy 13 year old girl. That is the good news; the other news is that the scan and ultra sound shows what in a normal evaluation early stage tumor is. I suspect what is showing up is the developing internal female reproductive system.”

At that moment they were interrupted by a knock on the door signaling the pizza arrival. After placing it on the table Liz went into Alana’s bedroom to check on her and found her asleep with about half the juice drunk. She took that moment to again check her BP and pulse which had raised only a couple of points. Nothing to worry about in isolation but if it continued to raise it would be. She knew the body’s early warning system of stress showed quickly in BP readings.

Liz opened a bottle of beer, snatched up a piece of pizza, and began woodenly chewing it. She really didn’t feel much like eating but figured she needed the strength. Neither of the two pieces she ate had much taste.

After each had digested their fill, Judy leaned in again, “You were saying about the scan.”

“I don’t believe those echoes were cancerous but the beginning of interior plumbing. That leaves us with two options neither one good. Under the first one, we keep her here until the pain gets too bad and we have to call ER. Depending on how far along the change is, might dictate a harmful diagnosis. You and I believe that it is likely the ‘tumors’ we see are healthy tissue but there are doctors that refuse to believe nothing that is outside of SOP. These doctors are likely to recommend a treatment that might kill her. If by a miracle we do convince someone of the truth how can we explain it?”

“And what is the second option?” Judy inquired.

“I find an all night medical supply company and buy a portable IV unit and a monitor and stock a hydrating solution, morphine if I can get it for a drip and anti-biotic solution too. Some test kits for particular markers. If we can keep her stabilized 24 hrs then I feel she will be far enough changed that admitting her if necessary will be routine. This second option puts us at considerable more risk than the first option but gives her a better outcome.”

“Define risk,” Judy inquired.

“Doing the second is pushing both medical and legal ethics and should something happens and if the specialized hospital equipment is found it would damn near impossible to explain it away and especially if Alana dies.”

The gravity of the situation sunk in and each woman was quiet for several minutes before Judy spoke, “Liz I trust your judgment and I know you are motivated to find the best solution. I say we go with the second option, reserving the right to call the ER if her signs fall below a certain level regardless how long it has been. Set parameters and thresholds now and pull the plug here once those level are reached and drive her to the ER.”

Liz mused for several seconds and replied, “That will work for me.” She found the phone directory and the businesses that had what she was looking for called and arranged for her to pick up the specialized equipment. Liz also located a hospital pharmacy that sold the rest of what she needed. Before she left Liz checked on Alana again winching that her numbers had risen another two points.

“I will back in 90 minutes if anything changes, call me.”

“I will, Judy said and adding, “She will be all right.” Liz nodded as grabbed her purse and keys and left.
Judy meanwhile carried a chair from the table into Alana’s bedroom and watched her intently. She seemed to be resting well. Judy went into the living room called the front desk to say they were staying at least an extra day. She then called her assistants that she was staying over another day.

The door opened and Liz came in carrying several boxes placing them on the table asking, “How is she?”

“No change.”

Liz nodded, “Can you help me bring in the equipment.” The two women soon had that set up and working while Liz hooked up the triage on the back of her hand ready to accept IV bags if necessary. Both women watched the monitor displaying its numbers across the screen tracking Alana’s vital signs. Liz left the room opened the boxes and placed several containers in the refrigerator while separating others according to their use. She also had a logbook to record observations, treatments and diagnosis explaining to Judy that having a record of the event would work in their favor if things went wrong. Liz had also rented an oxygen generator in case.

The women set down at the table with Judy asking Liz to go over the game plan and what signs to look for from Alana and interpreting the monitor outputs.

“We have a basic ICU here except access to quick tests and ready to treat anything short of a stroke, heart attack, or surgery. The tests we got results from the lab indicate that her electrolytes and hydration levels are low/normal. I want to carefully monitor her input and output of fluids to see how well her kidneys are working. Sometime after midnight I’ll start her on a standard hydration and glucose drip and we keep close track of her BP. If it starts to rise sharply we will know her body is in distress and painkillers added to her treatment and that should ease her BP some. I bought some test kits to track white blood cell count, which will give us an idea if infection has set in or internal bleeding occurs. Her body temperature will also give us a heads up. We don’t have a sterile environment but I bought wipes and wiped clean her immediate environment and from now on whenever we go in her room we use the gloves, mask, and head cap. Her immune system is likely to be compromised and while she probably has immunity to our staph germs. I am certain there are left over bugs from other occupants. It is not perfect but it is pretty good.”

“Wow,” Judy replied, “sounds like you have got our bases covered.”

“Well we do have multiple contingencies covered but our main shortfall is time. We can only cover for a limited time; sometime after noon tomorrow, we will run out of options. Sooner if complications occur. Sometime tomorrow, I’ll call the ER and tell them I have an inter-sex child that remained unknown until puberty and that I am a doctor and bringing her by private car to the ER. That is the worse case scenario that we are prepared for.”

Judy interrupted her train of though, “I think I will pour me a glass of wine, you want one.”

Liz nodded in agreement taking the glass and tasting it absent-mindedly while she continued to verbalize her fears, “Her changes so far have mostly been superficial and are replicated daily by skilled surgeons and usually without complications but almost always painful. However, hers has happened without benefit of science and relatively pain free so far. This second half involves internal medicine and so far as I know has never been tried or accomplished before and I have no way to predict what will happen. What triggered this transformation has to be either magical or supernatural in nature and all we can do here is offer support or supplement that process. I wish there was more we could do.”

“Look,” Judy reasoned, “Just us being here will help her and you will do her more good by not worrying yourself sick.”

Liz and Judy after discussing the probabilities decided they would each hold 5 hr shifts with Judy taking the first shift until 1 a.m. when Liz would watch until 6 a.m.

Before going to bed Liz looked in on Judy and Alana and watched for several minutes to assure her that she was resting and again she indicated to Judy to call her before 1 a.m. if needed.

At 1 a.m., Liz awoke, washed her face, wandered into the kitchen for coffee, and was sipping it when Judy appeared in the door to Alana’s room. After shutting the door Judy poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down by Liz.

“How did you sleep,” observed Judy.

“Better than I thought I would,” Liz admitted and added, “How is she doing?”

“All right so far but I think I will stay up a while longer. I have a gut feeling the next couple of hours will be the turning point. Liz was about to agree when the beeper on the monitor sounded and both women rushed into the makeshift ICU. Judy watched fascinated as Liz turned off the beeper and reset the machine to a higher number. Liz then read the numbers on the monitor and scanned Judy’s notes. Alana began to stir slightly as Liz began adjusting the IV bags and soon all three lines begin to fill.

“Mom I’m thirsty,” Alana croaked through cracked lips.

Liz held a glass of water to her lips while Alana greedily drank water through the straw. “Easy does it with the water. We don’t want you to get choked.”

“Mom I’m scared, you won’t leave me will you,” pleaded Alana.

“No dear I won’t leave and Judy is right here too,” Liz replied indicating where Judy stood at the foot of the bed. “Where do you hurt at dear?” Liz asked.

“The pain is in my stomach and back.”

“I know sweetie and momma will make it all better,” she assured her daughter gently. In minutes, Alana was fast asleep before the monitor again sounded an alarm, which brought Liz to attention, and she quickly silenced it before she turned on the oxygen generator and placing oxygen tubes in her daughter’s nose.

Judy had watched spellbound as Liz had adjusted and administered medicine as needed in response to each alarm. In each case the offending numbers had responded by dropping or rising to their normal levels. An idea was beginning to take shape in her mind.

Alana had accidentally chosen the master bedroom, which had its own TV that Liz turned on leaving the sound low. She wrote on Alana’s charts her notes and then indicated to Judy for them to leave the room.

They refreshed their coffees and when seated Liz remarked, “I am glad I got that stuff yesterday it would have been damn rough without it.”

Judy nodded in agreement replying, “That is what I want to talk to you about as I am pretty keyed up right now and don’t feel much like sleep. I want to run and idea by you while it is fresh in my mind.”

“Before you begin what do you say to a glass of wine instead of coffee?”

“A little might be good,” Judy admitted as Liz poured about 4 ounces each into two glasses. The wine did taste good the warmth that spread outward from their stomach was comforting as well.

Judy said, “Liz I am impressed it is evident you are a damn fine doctor and after what I witnessed tonight calling what we have at the Spa a clinic is a joke. You managed to put together in a few hours more capacity than we did in three years. Our ‘clinic’ is more like a first aid station and we have been fortunate not to have needed more. I knew we ran certain risks here tonight but it dawned on me as I watched you work that I ran greater risks, unknowingly perhaps, at the spa for the last three years.”

Judy paused to take a breath and another sip of wine before resuming, “I have a proposition for you that if you agree and the pieces fall in place will result in more responsibilities and larger pay too.”

Judy had Liz’s attention, “Sounds like you have something up your sleeve and I am interested.”

“I called my assistants yesterday evening and told them we would stay an extra day. I’m going to call them today and tell them our stay has extended by a week. We home school about 50 children, and along with the permanent and temporary staff, I have about 150 people on site on any given day. Add another 150 guests both day guests and weekly ones and we have about 300 total. With that many total people out and about every day we have been very fortunate to avoid any major accidents or incidents. That streak of luck can’t hold forever. My family has lived in this area for a hundred and fifty years and I have a large network of friends and some influence.”

“When we leave here I will buy the equipment in there from you and I want you to arrange for enough necessary supplies and medicine to stock the clinic for 4-6 months.”

“As I said I am impressed by what you were able to acquire under adverse conditions in a few hours. My clinic should have at least that much ability.”

“Once that is done my plan is to apply for a grant and expand even more and for you hire an office assistant and a PA or nurse; whatever you decide you need. What do you think?”

“I like it and you are right the clinic does need upgrading and I am also glad you will buy the equipment that I bought. I really didn’t have that much to spend and it almost wiped out my savings.”

Judy interrupted, “Give me all your receipts and I will write you a check for the full amount and don’t worry about what you used as I consider that cheap for an education.”

“Thank you,” Liz replied. “When do you plan on starting?”

“As soon Alana is out of the woods.”

Judy stood up stretched and said yawning, “I think I’ll get some sleep now. Wake me if you need me.”

Liz nodding replied, “I expect she should be stable for several hours before anything happens.”

Liz was right on the money as the monitor starting beeping warnings about 7 am but required a couple of minor adjustments to return Alana’s vitals to normal. She was about to pull the covers back to inspect how far the process had progressed when she felt Judy standing beside her. “I was just going to do a visual, you want to stay.”

Judy nodded; she was interested partly from curiosity and partly from wondering how much longer it would take. It had only been about 12 hours since they had set up the make shift ICU but her nerves were starting to fray. She hoped it wouldn’t take much longer. Both women winced as Alana’s crotch appeared with a slight indentation starting to appear as well as the vagina lips. The penis had visibly shrunk though it was still recognizable as a penis and the clitoris and hood that it would eventually morph into. They stood silently each lost in their thoughts before Liz finally covered Alana’s lower body and they quietly left the room.

In the other room Judy poured herself a cup of coffee and refilled Liz’s cup and sat down beside Liz, “I take it that happened this morning.”

Liz knew the “that” Judy referred to was Alana’s genitals being morphed. “Yes it had not started when you went to bed and I suspect will be completed in the next 4-5 hours.”

Judy let out a sigh of relief, “That’s good to know, I don’t mind telling you my nerves were starting to frazzle not knowing how long or what to expect or anything ...”

Liz replied, “I know what you mean I was flying blind a lot and second guessing myself and wondering if I had forgotten anything last night. But I think the worst is over and I believe that I can stop the hydration drip now.” Seeing the question in Judy’s eyes, she explained, “As her vagina is formed her urethra tube will move from her penis to her vagina and until it is firmly attached I’d rather her bladder remain empty. An accident like that could set up an infection.”
Judy nodded her understanding and watched Liz get up and walk into Alana’s room.

When Liz returned a few minutes later Judy noticed how tired she looked and idly wondered if she looked that frazzled.
“What?” Liz asked.

“I was just wondering if I look as bad as you look.”

“Worse,” teased Liz sticking out her tongue before turning serious, “Honestly Judy I don’t think I could have done this without your help. At times I just wanted to curl in a ball and cry.”

“Me too and I’m glad I was some help.” Both women remained silent reflecting on what occurred two days ago and the drama that played out last night and again today.

Finally Liz stood, “If you don’t mind I am going to grab a little sleep.”

“Go ahead,” Judy replied, “You look beat.”

“I am,” admitted Liz and added, “I stopped her liquids but left her on the morphine drip until I wake up. I plan to take her off everything but keep her sedated; I really want her to remain still. If you will, please chart her changes at least hourly.”

“Will do, chief,” Judy replied giving a mock salute. Liz grinned at her friend and went into the other bedroom for some sleep.

A little after noon Liz woke from a very heavy sleep, her body protesting mildly at the interruption. For some reason the fog would not lift from her eyes or mind and she lay for several minutes before she silently scolded herself into rising. Walking into the kitchen area towards the communal bathroom, she was mildly surprised not to see Judy. Judy was seated at her customary spot sipping coffee when Liz returned from doing her “business” and splashing her face.

“How is it going?” She asked on the way to the coffee pot.

“I think the change is complete; I was in there cleaning up.”

Liz froze asking quickly, “Is there something wrong?”

“No I don’t think so. There was a little blood, fluid, and tissue loss from the, her penis and urethra being moved. The pad caught it all ... that was a good call by the way...and I put a new one in its place. I cleaned her using that sterile wash.”

“Good thank you Judy,” replied Liz, “I think I’ll go check on her and then get that coffee."

“I think the worst is over,” Liz observed nursing her coffee, “she will probably sleep for a few hours before waking and I’d like to see how her vitals are without painkillers in her system.”

Judy decided she needed a bath and changes of clothes more than sleep as Liz kept vigil over Alana. The bath was a good idea after all declared Liz as she soaked in the tub and Judy took over watching their patient.

When both ladies had changed into clean clothes they were seated at the table idly chatting when Alana woke up.

“Where am I? How long have I been here? What happened? She asked confused her eyes wide and luminous.

“How are you feeling dear?” asked Liz.

“Hungry, thirsty, tired, and sore just about sums it up,” admitted Alana as she tried to rise, “I need to go.”

“Just a minute,” directed Liz as she unhooked Alana from the monitor and they helped her to the bathroom.

“Gee whiz can’t I have any privacy.”

“Better get used to it, young lady ... any pain?”

“A little,” she admitted and Liz nodded her understanding.

Liz and Judy brought Alana up to date after she had been settled back into the bed. It was decided to order dinner and eat in.

Later that night after eating with Alana sleeping soundly from the sedative Liz had given her; Judy and Liz reflected on the previous two days events. Liz asked Judy if she would consent to being Alana’s godmother, which she readily agreed to. The tension that lay heavy last night was gone and both ladies were enjoying the wine and easy conversation. Liz had left Alana hooked to the monitor and the IV hookups in place ... just in case.

That from my first three days as a woman most of it I don’t remember and the reason it was told using my mother’s and Aunt Judy’s recollection and notes.

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 2 Revised. Written by Katelyn and Edited by William Durr.I want to thank Bill for editing and proofreading while admitting any errors left are mine. The setting and character were inspired by a story Julie O wrote; Frseh Start. The first 2 or 3 chapters were too close and I apologize to the readers, Big Closet, and Julie O. I have re written chapters 2-6 to avoid that as much as possible.

I also wanted to apologize for taking so long to get this out but medical issues and frozen water pipes will do that to a schedule. It is mostly edited and ready to go. You may need to read chapter 1 again.

In this chapter Atalanta adjusts to living as a girl. Both mother and daughter struggle with their new relationship and Atalanta is given a brief look at a mystery of her transformation.

Chapter Two
I sat at the dressing table critically examining my makeup skills that had gotten better with practice. I really didn’t need the mascara as my lashes were full but mom thought curling and applying the mascara and liner would develop a skill set I would need as a woman. As in: attention to detail. My brows were finely arched and needed nothing but an occasional plucking. I liked applying eye shadow and achieving different dramatic looks though I always switched to subtle colors whenever I went out saving the nighttime look for mom, Aunt Judy or Lindsey. Lindsey is my best friend and was one of the people who knew what happened to me.

My eyes had changed colors when I went through the change, from blue to grey that at times I observed glowing with a strange light that reminded me of a cat I had at night would when light touched at a particular angle. Those eyes were large, wide set, luminous and expressive directing attention to the center of my face, from my finely formed nose and full pouty lips that begged to be kissed to the soft and rounded jaw line and chin sloping gently to my delicate and sleek throat and neck.

My cheekbones were high with their own natural color that needed no blush but mom wanted me to learn to apply bronzers and contours to create illusions. Overall, I used minimal product but learned the techniques for creating different effects. It was strange but I did feel a sense of pride in those accomplishments.

Satisfied that my makeup was just the right image for the ‘look’ I wanted, I finished dressing in a beige skirt and peach blouse that hung loosely below the skirt’s waistband. Another habit Liz and Judy had drilled into me the last six weeks was makeup on before clothes. At first the habits of style, fashion, makeup, hair, and skincare seemed to make no sense to me even when it was explained that because of ‘the change’ I became a girl in the middle of a huge increase in female hormones; not the gradual increase that gives most girls time to adjust. Then add the sudden switch from male to female bodies and that hormone reversal they felt I needed a fast track to girlhood.

Mom was concerned that after two months I hadn’t had a period yet; she thought it was probably my body still adjusting to the influx of hormones and was too early to worry. I wasn’t so sure though that it was due to hormones.

The changes that had occurred over three days were many but overall the process worked within my body’s frame. I remained almost the same height at 5’9” and weight at 125 pounds. I was born with mom’s bone structure and fine facial features. But even with that boost I didn’t look like my mom did at 13. Her eyes are green while mine are grey with flecks of gold. She has blonde hair while mine is red with bronze highlights and my complexion is warmer.

My new identification papers had arrived and I was now officially Atalanta Rose Reed or Atalanta for short: Female age 13. Why the name Atalanta? To be honest I can’t say for sure, the name just came to me ... out of the blue. I could see it spelled out on a blackboard but I never got the spelling correct. That might be because the name was not familiar to me; it took a look of Google searches and different combination of letters before I found it. Atalanta was a Greek or Crete Goddess and as soon as I read her story, something in me clicked. The name contained Alan and Alana the name mom and Judy gave me at first. The “T” is different enough to honor Atalanta; it did in my mind anyway.
I returned to brushing my hair that tumbled in waves parting across my shoulders and framing my face with its thick healthy mass of curls.

“Atalanta,” I heard my mom call.

“I’ll be right there,” I called back. Today was inspection day; the day mom and Judy reviewed me on my assignment for the week. Once a week Judy, my mom and me would have dinner and afterwards pointed out where I was improving and where I was not.

“Very good,” mom praised, “Your sense of style and fashion has improved drastically.”

“Hum ... mm,” Judy replied thoughtfully, “Not really much of a challenge with your complexion for the casual outing. Maybe we should next have her put together a hot evening look.” Seeing my disappointment Judy grinned widely, “I’m just teasing you, you look great. Here give me a big hug.”

As we hugged I whispered, “I love you Aunt Judy.”

“I love you too.”

Mom interrupted us, “Time to get to this week’s lesson and we are changing course a little bit into a more serious subject.”

I immediately sat sensing that mom had a serious issue to discuss and she wasted no time, “Atalanta you have had ten weeks to adjust being a girl, what can you tell are the differences between life as Alan and life as Atalanta?”

“Mum ... mm,” I said replaying discoveries in this body and remembering my Alan experiences. “Besides the obvious: a period or in my case not, makeup, clothes, accessories, hair and skin care, my skin is a lot more sensitive ... more sensitive to touch, feel, to cold or heat or even to wind. Oh ... that reminds me if I could go back as Alan I’d apologize to every woman I ever met for some thoughts I had ... back then.”

“Go on dear,” mom prompted me, “I am curious.”

“Well,” I declared, “I can’t get use to these ...,” cupping my breasts … “these boobs.”

“Boobs,” interrupted Judy laughing, “Can’t you think of another name?”

“Puppies, hooters, tits, the girls, bazookas ...”

“Whoa, girl, that’s enough.”

“... Breasts, it is hard to use my arms without them rubbing against my breasts and since they are so sensitive I am always aware of them. To help compensate for that and their weight I notice I’m holding my shoulders and arms back farther which is pushing my breasts out and up even more. That makes it seem like I am putting them on display and want people to see them then get upset when people, boys mostly talk to them and not me. But I am not presenting them or putting them on display.”

“Atalanta,” Judy mockingly scolded me.

“Okay maybe a little,” I confessed blushing.

“That is a natural instinct for the female population,” interjected mom, “it signals the world that you have a healthy body capable of producing enough milk for a baby to live. The same goes for hips ... wide hips is a signal that you can deliver a healthy baby.”

“That is something else I noticed,” I began referring to my hips which really had minimal development, “When I was just getting use to this body I first thought women’s shoes were made differently. That is the soles were ... like they were miniature rockers that forced me to walk using a rolling motion, you know like ocean waves. If I don’t each step seems like I am stomping around. I even went so far as comparing the soles and there is not any difference that I can see.”

“That is interesting,” an amused Judy replied, “I thought I had heard every description under the sun of a catwalk but using rocking chairs and ocean waves to describe it is new ... and very poetic.”

“Anything else,” mom prompted me.

“I think that about covers it,” I confessed softly silently wondering if I missed something important.

“Well,” she began interrupting my musing, “What you have learned so far is attention to detail and self awareness. Both are needed for the next phase ... the three S’s ... Sexual, Situational, and Strength awareness.”

Seeing my confusion she gently patted my hand and continued, “It will become clearer in a few minutes. I assume you have masturbated.”

I mumbled something that might pass for a yes with my cheeks flaming but she relentless resumed, “I am not trying to embarrass you but masturbating is a natural part of discovery as a boy or as a girl. Have you tried it yet as a girl?”

“Mom,” I cried shocked and horrified that she was bringing it up and even suggesting I do it as Atalanta. I had thought about it and several times massaging my breasts had felt tiny shock waves race through my body. Shame or guilt had stopped me from going farther as at those times I felt like an alien in this body invading this young girl’s privacy. The truth was I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with this body or my old one both on the verge of puberty.

“Atalanta you need to understand that going through puberty is tough on girls from birth with your body changing and the influx of hormones when you start your menses. It will be doubly tough on you not having that expectation all your life and I’m trying to make you aware of all that you are and will face.”

She reached into her purse and produced a small box that contained a bone white cylinder that fit snugly in her palm and a soft flexible pink tip. I jumped when she turned it on.

“This is a personal massager and it’s very good for sore and tired muscles,” mom continued in her professional tone and demonstrated it on her neck and shoulders. “Umm,” she softly sighed before handing it to me. I handled it very tentatively in very nervous fingers.

“Try it on your arm; the tip is soft, flexible, and washable.”

I did and it was surprisingly soothing but I quickly shut it off. Mom pushed the box over to me and I hastily boxed it up.

Unabashed mom continued, “It is very good for relieving pent up tension.”

I nodded numbly hoping we could move on to the next item on mom’s agenda. In the next breath I regretted that thought.
Mom pushed a white disk across the table to me. It had a dial and the days of the week printed on the face.
The implications were clear and uncomfortable.

“Mom, I don’t need that.”

“I know you don’t dear but I do want you to understand the realities of what menstruation means to you. It is a threshold from girlhood into womanhood and crossing that bridge brings with it a ton of new responsibilities.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about and it must have shown on my face.

“Sweetie, I know this is a lot to take in and I hate to push you too much but you need to know and prepare for it.”

“Prepare for what?” I pressed.

She replied still engaged in a neutral tone, “Female and male arousal are two different animals. In males it is concentrated in one place and in one part.”

Okay that I understand.

“Female arousal is still intense there but it spreads to more of your body, moving up your body to your breasts, neck, shoulders, face, and lips and down into your legs. If you are not careful that reaction; at first can overwhelm your mind and the results of that action can have lasting effects.”

“Effects, what effects,” I asked.

“Unwanted pregnancy, STDs, and a bad reputation are some on the top of my head. Do you have any questions?”

I laughed dryly, “Never in my wildest dreams did I think when this summer started that we would have this discussion or that I would be concerned about getting pregnant.”

Mom shaking her head replied, “Neither did I and that is why I am pushing you so hard because this wasn’t part of your learning experience. Girls grow up absorbing tidbits here and there until it becomes second nature. You don’t have that luxury.”

I nodded while looking at that disk asked, “What do I do with this?”

“Nothing,” mom replied reclaiming the disk, “I used it as prop for now; later we can talk about it.”

Okay I thought this mother daughter relationship involves a lot more than mother son thing did.

“Any questions so far?” Liz continued when I shook my head. “Then tell us what you have learned so far.”

I shook my head at what was fast becoming a lecture but replied determined to make the most of it. “Well,” I began hesitantly, “Female arousal is so different from the male arousal that you want me to build up to it so I don’t get overwhelmed and do something stupid like get pregnant.”

She smiled wistfully at my choice of words and tone, “That about sums it up but you will find that it really is a pleasant experience.”

Mom cleared her throat and took a sip of tea before continuing, “Next up is situational awareness. The attention to detail that you have acquired in your appearance naturally translates into this area and is as vital as sexual awareness; it really can’t be separated.”

Liz nodded at Judy who began, “Places, people, events, things, your emotions and so much more plays a part of situational awareness. Places that hold more potential for danger are unlit, private or less traveled places. Dirty, abandoned, and neglected places also are places you need to avoid. People can be grouped into the same categories ... sort of, appearance and hygiene are important. But so is a sense of humor, how they treat other people, family and friends. Unlike places, people are not that cut and dried and you have to trust your intuition.”

“Events are things like, is alcohol being served? Women have a lower alcohol tolerance due to our higher fat percentage and alcohol usually involves money. Things are like weapons, animals, machinery that sort of thing. Emotions are mostly your emotions. As women, emotions are our fuel and sometimes make us do some things we regret. A breakup, yours, or a close friend, an accident, death of someone close, job loss, any of those things can leave you vulnerable. Obviously, the more negatives a situation holds the more you should avoid it.”

Being aware of your surroundings, attention to detail, keeping your head up with a confident attitude, developing a feel of people and places will in most cases get you out of tough situations unhurt.”

Shaking my head I asked, “I do not understand how this is different from what I learned as Alan. Those are the sort of things and places I’d naturally stay away from anyway so I don’t understand how it is different now.”

“Believe me it is,” Judy replied quickly, “For one thing you will receive lots more attention, offers, and flattery now that you are a beautiful desirable young lady. Our nature as women makes us less aggressive, more willing to please other people, and with the added attention and opportunities makes you more likely to accept invitations. The results are a lot different too. I don’t think as Alan you would worry about sexual assault as Atalanta you need to. Since smaller amounts of alcohol affect you faster, harder, and longer it is easier to spike your drink. That is why you need to keep in mind about not leaving unfinished sodas unguarded while you are gone to the restroom or dancing. Take it with you, finish it, or have someone you trust watching it. Those, like several things that fall into situational awareness categories are not hard and fast rules that always apply.”

Mom piped in, “Speaking of which I think you should seriously consider dating,” she held up her hands, “No,” at my initial negative response, “hear me out. I don’t want you getting into a serious relationship with a guy, not now, but I do think you need the experience. After all,” she smiled, “I just want you to have fun in a safe environment.”

I stopped my initial retort and after a few deep breaths replied, “My initial reaction was not no, but hell no! However, I do think you are right if I can be upfront with the guy that is neither serious nor long term. I also want your approval of the date and the guy and I’d really love if Lindsey and I can double date. OMG I can’t believe I even said that.” I moaned holding my head in my hands sobbing softly. Pulling me to my feet, Judy and Mom engaged me in a group hug with our tears flowing freely.

Somebody handed me a tissue and I carefully dried my eyes.

Still sniffling I weakly said, ‘Mom I know it wasn’t your intention and probably is for the best but you have ripped my heart and soul out. There is nothing left of Alan, he is dead,” I cried sadly.

Mom hugged me tightly and cried fiercely, “No baby he is not dead. It may seem like it now, but as long you live he does too.”

Nodding I replied, “I will have to take your word for it, right now it doesn’t feel that way.”

Suddenly I reached a decision, “I know you have more left to go but you will have to excuse me if I go to bed. I have had a belly full.”

My mind froze at the prospect of dating and its images. In my pain and confusion, I wanted to lash out; to her hurt back in spades. But I didn’t. First because it wouldn’t be right, I’d be inflicting intentional pain for accidental pain. Secondly because some basic core decisions are individual ones, ones that no one but you can make and live with its results. Of course, I held my tongue and said nothing.

Mom continued, “Atalanta we may have covered too much tonight, in more detail than needed, and maybe too negatively and harshly but we needed to get a point across; that point is different rules apply to you now.”

She sighed brushing her hair back saying, “The last thing we wanted to cover is strength awareness. I’m sure you noticed that while your height and weight are the same that weight is distributed differently ... now.”

A rueful smile played across my face as I looked down at my breasts and my hands traced my hips, “I noticed.”

“... You have less muscle mass and less strength. Physically you are not a match against a man but you have certain advantages a man doesn’t have. The number one rule is safely running or getting away from an attacker ... anyway you can. You can use force multipliers, mace or pepper spray, fingernails, eye gouging, a knee to the groin, even car keys or even your purse if it has a metal buckle to hurt him while you escape. You can use his desire for you, and most of the time it will be a sexual assault, against him. Flirting with him or showing him some cleavage; any distraction that gives you an edge to escape is acceptable if not desirable.”

“Because of our size and our vulnerability during pregnancy and when our children are young we band together with other women for safety. We cooperate; men compete. We negotiate; men state. Women create; men contend. We receive; men direct. Your best advantages are the female mind and your girlfriends. That is why all this instruction is so important; to develop that female mind to go with the female body to give you all the advantages being female offers.”

Mom paused to sip her drink exchanging looks with Judy asked me, “Does that make sense?”

I slowly nodded as I reviewed our conversation to date and replied softly, “Yeah it is starting to come together. Do you mind if I summarize what I think I have learned?”

Judy and mom nodded with Judy asking, “Atalanta you are already thinking like a woman. I bet you didn’t catch what you just did, did you?”

I shook my head confused. “You asked for permission or negotiated to summarize. That is a feminine response. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Please continue.”

“Well Judy you sort of summarized my summary by noting my question. If the big idea behind this training is developing automatic feminine instincts then my question and you’re pointing it out underscores that understanding. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does,” both women shouted gleefully.

“Good. Is it safe to assume you will want me to start implementing some of these strategies?”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“This one is the simplest,” I said indicating the box and gingerly picking it up, “but I’ll have to wait until I get stressed out to try it. The pills are for future reference.”

“As far as going on a date, I would rather see how that develops first. And Lindsey is already my best friend. But there is one part that disturbs me and that is the part about self-defense. It makes us out as victims or almost helpless. In fact, it makes my blood boil to even consider that because as Alan I was pretty laid-back, passive, and tolerant.”

“Dear it might be because now it is a possibility that it could happen to you, but as Alan it was very unlikely.”

I shook my head, “No that is part of it though, but it is more than that. It is just a feeling ... something just out of the blue, a feeling of strength, resolve, and anger at ... injustice.”

The meeting broke up soon after leaving everyone a lot to ponder especially me as I got undressed for bed in my flannel shirt and giving both mom and Judy a good night hug and peck on the cheek.

“Don’t you think you are being a little harsh with Atalanta? We are throwing an awful lot her way,” Judy whispered to Liz when they were alone.

“I don’t know maybe I am loading her down with too much information too soon,” Liz responded biting her lower lip.

“We are swimming in unchartered waters,” Judy conceded.

“That we are,” Liz agreed, “I don’t believe magic changelings was ever in our text books in college. But if Atalanta had grown up as a little girl some of what we have discussed she would have absorbed from girlfriends and her world organically. But my sexual health talks with her would have taken place anyway but over many months and not just a few weeks.”

“I agree with you she needs this information but at some point she will tire of the accelerated rate of learning that we are pushing at her and possibly resent us. I’d like for these Thursday dinners continue to be looked forward to,” Judy countered.

“I know,” Liz returned as an involuntary shiver sending its icy fingers up her spine, “I don’t want that either. I admit that I’ve been taking advantage of what I consider a small window of opportunity to influence her and to push the envelope. But I don’t want to push her away while I’m doing it.”

“Liz I know you have her best interests at heart; we both do but aren’t we pushing her too quickly into a date?”

“It’s not a real date,” Liz protested.

“It is to her,” Judy countered.

“She will naturally make friends with girls and learn all about girlfriend rules. I was concerned that she might bring a lot of baggage with her left over from growing up male.”

“What kind of baggage?”

“I assume Alan grew up viewing males as competitors and not as romantic interests and I was concerned that she would continue to hold those views; particularly after warning her about males and pregnancy.”

“Liz you may be right but you may also be wrong about that.”

“I know,” Liz conceded, “but I think she needs the experience and it’s a one off event. But I do feel that we should back off and use Thursdays for bonding and just talk about what comes up naturally.”

“I know it has been hard on you; you did lose a son,” Judy sympathized.

“I know and Alan lost a part of who he was but we both gained something in return. I guess in retrospect I was pushing both of us hard because down deep I didn’t want to confront who, the why, and the how of the transformation or the implications that those questions gives rise to. Nor the reality that event left us with.”

“Liz I feel you need to mourn the loss of your son.”

“Oh my god,” Liz exclaimed, “I’ve been dealing with Atalanta almost exactly as how I dealt with Alan.”

“And that was probably the best thing to do for both of you but now it’s time to be mother and daughter.”

“You’re right,” Liz replied walking Judy to the front door where they hugged and exchanged good nights.

“We talked about the “P” word,” I was telling Lindsey the next afternoon of the conversation from the night before with Liz and Judy. We were in her bedroom doing each other’s toenails with the same bright red enamel nail polish.

Giggling Lindsey exclaimed, “Would that be ‘Penis, Peter, Period, or Pussy.”

“No,” I snorted, “that would be “Pregnancy and Pills.”

Lindsey and her family knew about my transformation from male to female. “Wow,” Lindsey responded, “What brought that on?”

I giggled, “She wanted me to understand what my new role means now.”

“So does that mean you like boys?” She asked and added, “And have you picked out a nice cute one ... yet.”

I stuck my tongue out at her teasing; I had told her that I wasn’t even sure I liked boys that way. “No,” I replied and rolling my eyes, “She does want me to try dating though just to get the social experience.”

“Cool,” she replied, “We can double date.”

“Oh joy.”

“You girls about done,” Hannah asked from the doorway.

“In a minute ... mom,” Lindsey replied indicating our toenails.

Girls! She said that naturally, including me. But was I? That thought made me wonder; was being a girl a matter of looking and acting like a girl. Or was it ...

“What?” I asked.

“I said are you all right? You got a weird look in your eyes and zoned out,” Lindsey was saying.

I couldn’t really tell Lindsey what I was thinking at least not all of it. “It just struck me odd that I am a girl now when your mom said ‘you girls.”

“Well duh,” She replied playfully punching my arm, “you are dry,” indicating our artwork.

“So are you.”

“I gotta go. I am helping mom in the kitchen.” Hannah was the spa’s chef and Lindsey had her mom’s culinary talent.

“Me too,” I replied carefully stepping into my sandals, “I have a few minutes to spare and I believe I’ll have a look around.”

I wandered aimless not sure what I was seeking until I found myself outside the complex’s sightseeing services where the vehicles and animals were kept. I knew then what I needed to do and went inside the barn to find Ready, the filly I had been given. Ray, one of several attendants helped me saddle the horse and again showing me safely how. I felt confident that I could achieve that task but doing it seemed to make him happy.

After I had settled on her back he handed me a canteen of water and asked, “You got your phone?”

I shook my head and sheepishly replied, “It’s on the charger.”

He got one from the stand that held several of the shop’s walkie-talkie type phones. “Just-in-case; it’s something the owner implemented after one of the guests had some type of accident out there. It’s equipped with GPS tracking.”

I could feel my color rising at his words, “Thank you,” I replied taking the items and securing them to the saddle and in my pocket.

I clucked to my horse, “Let’s go, Ready.”

The filly seemed to know too where to go and without direction from me headed northwest before turning south and following a dim trail that lead across gullies and over rises in the landscape. Soon we stopped on a hill overlooking the trail that one version of me had went down and another version had emerged from.

As I stared down into the trail that led to fish bowl shaped enclosure I became aware of sights and sounds greatly magnified and processed through more than my five senses. Every rock, tree, and formation seemed hued at precise right angles and cut from massive and heavy minerals and wood. The sense was similar to the few times I had run a fever and hallucinated.

Ready snorted and pranced sideways, “Easy-easy does it girl,” I responded softly and I dismounted. I held her reins as I looked again at the panorama spread at my feet.

I stepped forward pulling a very reluctant filly down the bank and into the ancient wash. I edged forward ten feet-then twenty feet-thirty feet-until I stood beside the ancient twisted juniper that had marked where two and a half months earlier I had stood and taken an unknown trail. Every fiber in my being was screaming déjà vu.

Nevertheless, I remained still my curiosity running rampant. As I did I became aware of an ancient lodge or hogan and then the rhythmic beat of drums and the swaying chants which rose and fell in time with the drums.

I was at war with myself as my analytical brain was arguing with my mind that this wasn’t real and loosing because I was in my mind and not my brain. Alongside the chanting, the drums, and the structure, I began to sense a presence emerging. I got the sense it was several such presences and that as they gathered materials and moved about my mindscape that I was watching a ceremony.

I stood rooted to that spot for what seemed ages as I absorbed and observed this real/not real world opening up to me.

Finally the natural landscape became focused again as bit by bit the fantasy world receded leaving the number five imprinted on the blackboard of my mind.

Wordlessly I turned around leading the horse up and out of the depression we were in and headed for home.

I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and I welcome your comments and I will answer any questions I can. Thanks. Katelyn

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 3 By Katelyn. Edited by William Durr. I thank Bill for all his help and any errors are mine.

Atalanta has reoccurring dreams and she develops a plan for self defense. But will her mom agree. Her weekly lessons with mom and Judy continue.

Chapter Three

A week had passed since I had visited the trail where my change had occurred and each night I had these weird dreams. The first night I ran wildly until I came to a mountain peak; there I gathered corn. The next night’s dream was similar except I ran in a different direction to a different peak and gathered corn but of a different color. The third and fourth nights followed a similar vein; with a different mountain and different colored corn. In the first dream I gathered white, the second night yellow, the third was purple, and the fourth a mixed color. On the fifth night the dream recycled.

Last night it had been purple corn that I found tonight it would be the mixed variety if the sequence remained true.

The odd thing was apart from the repetitious dreams nightly and the mental workout I woke up energized. I also woke early to an overwhelming desire to run.

This morning as usual I was up early where I wandered outside and eventually ended up at the additional construction Judy had started for the new clinic and cottages. South of the construction zone was a smaller hastily constructed parking lot for the workers with a mixture of vans, truck and travel trailers, and a mobile home that housed both the office and body of the foreman.

His name was Manuel Black and he was about 30 years old, a few inches shorter than I was, and a slim yet solid body. I knew his name and by sight, but that was all. I was surprised when he walked from behind a corner in the barn where I was stretching and warming up.

The truth was before my trip to the canyon that didn't did not exist and Mom and Judy’s talk about strengths differences between the sexes I had already noticed a difference too. However that had changed some after I began running and I welcomed that increase in my energy and strength levels. That increase in energy and confidence was a welcome change from the uncertainty, weakness, and fear I dealt with in the aftermath of a spontaneous sex change.

No, I didn’t think I was turning into wonder woman or the hulk, but with mutants being in the news I did wonder how far the changes would go. So I thought that testing my limits and working out was a good idea. Besides I needed to run.

“Working out,” his voice was surprisingly soft and pleasant. He moved lithely with ill-concealed ease into the open.

I stood up and easily found myself balanced in a defensive posture. Where had that come from?

I nodded.

“Yeah I’ve been noticing you several mornings, running.”

“I thought I noticed someone out there,” I replied wondering where this was going.

“I run too,” he replied, “and I thought you might like company.”

“Why,” I asked studying his response and body language.

He held up his hands palms out, “Whoa,” he cried, “I don’t mean you any harm. It is just that this early and the rough terrain make it easy to misstep in the dark. I’d feel better if someone was there and go for help if I fall and break something,” he added smiling.

I smiled at his self-depreciating humor with my instincts telling me he could be trusted. “Deal,” I smiled, “and may it never rain on either of our parades.”

He grinned and we began to run across the flat terrain that quickly dotted with boulders. We climbed increasingly steeper slopes clinging to rocky outcroppings like mountain sheep. A large and hazardous boulder reared up about 50 yards away and almost that much higher on the landscape.

I loved running with the wind whipping in my face and the lighter than air feeling that accompanied it. As Alan, I wasn’t athletically inclined and the love and skill at running was a pleasant surprise. Despite what mom said about girls being weaker, I didn’t feel that weakness. I did agree most girls were not as strong as males but I wasn’t most girls.

The sun was just peeking over the rim of the basin sending tendrils of purple rays across the silent countryside. A coyote barked in the distance and overhead a hawk circled lazily. On a ledge high above the canyon a cougar stretched languidly, watched the pair of runners.

“You have been running long?”

“Just started,” I declared. We were resting on the giant rock that stood out like a sentinel.

“What’s your end game?” He must have seen the surprise cross my face and explained. “Are you training for an event or just running for the hell of it. To test yourself or get in shape.”

“No. Not an event.” I replied empathically. “Yeah, it is probably more of for the hell of it. I never ran until we got here.”

“In that case you are a natural. How long you been out here?”

“After school was let out, we’ve been here just a few months. Mom wanted a change of scenery after dad was killed in a crash.”

“I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories.”

“No problem, you didn’t know. And it was always a possibility being an Army Brat.” The quiver belied the brittle tone.

“Still, I’m sorry about your dad. I just retired from the Navy, the Seals. So I kind of understand. What does your mom do here at The Resort?”

“She’s the doctor. She and dad met in the service.”

“Umm-okay, I guess I have your mom to thank for the work.”

“Some I guess, but its Aunt Judy’s money.”

“What was your dad’s MOS.”

“He was attached to the Army intelligence unit.”

A shadow flickered momentarily, “My name is Manny Black and my job here is to oversee the work gets done and keep these rough necks in line.”

“Atalanta-Atalanta Reed,” I replied adding, “It’s time to be heading back.”

Wow, I felt like I was flying as we ran, leaping from rock to rock. My feet barely touched the earth as we tore off down the mountainside in a mad sprint. I loved the exhilaration and freedom that these cross country runs provided with the added thrill of dodging unexpected obstacles often improvising in mid-air. I kept the lead on Mr. Black all the way back to the barn where I jumped, whirling in the air and fist pumped the sky.

“Whew that was fun!” I shouted and sticking out my tongue, “Nah-nah I beat you back.”

Grinning he answered, “I didn’t know we were racing.”

“I won, so we were racing.” I smirked.

His smile vanished, “You could’ve been hurt or broke your neck or an arm or leg, back there.”

I considered his statement carefully. Mom was being … well a mom and overprotective and she, no doubt would agree with Manny.

“It is hard to explain. I’ve changed a lot since we moved here.” Boy or girl was that an understatement! “I know I looked reckless out there but I can really see well in the dark and I can change my body position in the air to land where I want. It also feels like I’m lighter too when I run.”

“That maybe true or it may not be. I have learned from my training over the years some tips and shortcuts that will help you to fine tune what it is you are doing. Are you willing to find out?”

“I guess so. Sure. Oh that reminds me. Mom wanted me to find some self-defense training. Can you teach me some … stuff?”

He studied me for such a long time that I thought he was refusing or not answering.

“I can and I can’t. That is I can teach you a system but not a few moves. Those you can learn from anybody. What I teach requires a commitment from you but when we are finished you will be one bad ass babe.” He replied grinning.

Immediately an image formed from the Matrix movie along with several fantasy images of leather duster coat babes. Okay maybe not but I did like the idea of not being vulnerable.

“I’d like that but my mom is being a little overprotective and you’d have to meet her and Judy first. You know pass inspection. How is Thursday evening for dinner?”

He agreed.

The days until Thursday both dragged and flew by. The days seemed longer as I wrestled with arguments to convince mom for the need for self defense lessons. They flew by because with each successive night of dreams brought a sense of anticipation and dread that I was missing something important before they ended.

I was admittedly excited and nervous as I bounced from grilling to the oven checking dinner preparations. Mom and Judy were due any moment as was Manny. I had invited him to our weekly lessons before I had checked with mom but thank goodness she had seen the wisdom in meeting with Manny. After all, it was her and Judy’s idea for the self-defense lessons. We still ran each morning and yes, I told her about my early morning run just leaving out the dangerous terrain and the dreams.

The kitchen was laden with aromas of the apple pie baking and the veggie casserole cooling and the chicken was almost ready to take off the grill. I was setting the table when I heard the front door open.

“Honey that smells good,” my mom declared with a peck on the cheek. Judy followed her into the kitchen dropping her purse beside her chair. I poured each woman a coffee and water for me.

Manny arrived a few minutes later with a knock on the door and after greeting him at the door I introduced him to mom and Judy who already knew him, “Mom, Judy this is Manny Black who agreed to teach me to kick butt and save the world … from e.v.i.l.”

“You’re full of it.”

After greetings we all sat and began eating.

“Mrs. Reed let me offer my condolences for your loss. I haven’t lost a spouse or a father but I lost many good friends over the years, so I understand some of your pain,” Manny declared after we finished eating.

“That was a superb dinner Atalanta,” he added.

“Mr. Black,” mom began, “I’d like to hear a little about you, and what you will be teaching Atalanta. How much of her time will it take and your impression of us,” using her hands indicating her and me.

“The service was good for me; I grew up on the streets of LA and got lucky. At 14, I hooked with a guy that learned jeet kune do from the master himself, Bruce Lee. I trained with him until I turned 17 and then joined the Navy and finally the Seals where I’ve spent the last 14 years in hotspots all over the world.I needed a break from it and left earlier this year to see if I am fit for civilian duty.”

Manny paused, looking over the rim of his coffee, absently blowing the liquid. It was a habit learned from many discreet meetings and conversations around the globe and in varied settings: From well-lighted mansions to darkened rat holes.

“I get the impression from Atalanta that the environment here has been good for her and she has changed a lot in the process.”

Seeing the brief looks and unspoken communication that passed among his audience, he added. “Is there something I should know?”

Again he felt an unknown ripple pass among his spectators before mom spoke, “Let’s just say Atalanta’s friends in Philly wouldn’t recognize her, now. Atalanta will probably fill you in later, but not now.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “timing is important and we’ll let that sleeping dog lie until it is time. You asked for my impression and that was one. She,” he continued fingering me, “told me she just had taken up running and wasn’t much of an athlete until she came to these mountains. From what I’ve seen running with her that is hard to believe, but I don’t think she’s lying. I conclude then, that she has hit a growth spurt or something.”

Again he saw their lips curl in a smirk and wondered what secret they shared.

“I’ll tell you what I told her, I won’t teach her isolated moves but a CQC system designed to inflict maximum damage. Bruce Lee took the best parts of the martial arts to form jeet kune do. I intend to take the best of jeet kune do and Seal training to form a new style. It won’t be indiscriminate damage but rather its applying force to quickly end a physical confrontation with one or multiple attackers. She’ll be able to quickly size up a situation, how dangerous it is and to apply proper countermeasures. She’ll learn and test the limits of her body and gain confidence but it will take time and discipline.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of my daughter being taught how to maim or kill,” Mom replied.

“Mrs. Reed, I thought surely having served and being a Dr. you would understand what can and does happen every day somewhere. Was I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong. I do understand, I just hadn’t thought where it could lead when I suggested she learn self-defense.”

“I see in her some of what I suspect my mentor saw in me when he agreed to take me under his wing. She will learn self-defense but in the overall context of what she might face. I can tell you this much, she’ll learn discipline and control first and may even cuss me good and proper before she ever learns the bad stuff. But it’s your call.”

“Satisfy my curiosity Mr. Black, but why would you spend your time and energy, again?”

“I detect an unspoken question Mrs. Reed and let me assure you that Atalanta is young enough to be my daughter. She is as safe with me as she would be with either of you. You’re a trained Doctor and you are as competent in your field as I am in mine and I’ve had 17 years using it. In this matter you’ll have to trust me as much as I’d have to trust you with a medical situation.”

“Everybody ready for some pie and ice cream,” I asked hoping to diffuse the situation as I rose to remove the pie from the warmer and the ice cream from the freezer. Smooth easy conversation begin to flow once again as we indulged in dessert and small talk.

“Ladies I appreciate the dinner and the company but I better be going now.” Manny spoke as he pushed his chair back from the table, and added, “Mrs. Reed you think on it and let me know. Judy, Atalanta,” Manny acknowledged us as he walked from the kitchen; I followed him to the front door.

“Thanks Manny,” I said, placing a hand on his sleeve, “Mom is being a little over protective. She’ll come around.”

“Yeah sure, you take care, kid.”

“… I don’t know.” Judy and mom were huddled at the table their conversation ceased with my return.

Sitting down across from them, “I-we have been through a lot of changes in the last few months. I owe both of you my life and you each took a terrible chance to give me a chance at a normal life. And I appreciate that more than I can tell.”

“But,” Mom prompted smiling.

“But,” I replied, “It gets more difficult and scary from here on. Up until now the lessons have kept us both busy and that was probably a good thing. Except for the date thing and I have to arrange that, the other items from last week are all individual accomplishments. Unless,” I teased, “you are going to show me how to use that,” I traced with my fingers the electronic device I was given last week.

“Atalanta, you are scandalous.”

“Yes, I am, aren’t I,” giggling, “but you did bring up a good point about self defense and awareness which I think Manny’s system can teach me.”

“I’m sure he can and it will. Just give me a few days to get use to the idea. Okay?”

“Sure momma,” I replied, “I think I will get ready for bed.”

I got up from the table and started from the room stopped and turned back around.

“You forget something, Atalanta?”

“Yes I guess I did, but I don’t know how or where to start.”

“The beginning is a good place.”

“Once upon a time …”

“Not that far back,” mom scolded.

“Oh-okay, I’ve been having these dreams.”

“Dreams or nightmares,” Judy queried.

“No, they’re not nightmares but I’m wondering what they might mean.”

“Sometimes,” Judy added, “dreams are symbols or gibberish but sometimes they are trying to give you a message. How often do they occur?”

I hesitated slightly before answering because doing so would verbalize my internal fears and make it impossible to ignore.
“Last night was the twelfth night in a row.”

“What,” both women exclaimed.

I then told them about the dream’s content.

“Let see if I got this right,” mom began, “For twelve nights you have had basically the same dream except the direction and location and color of the corn.”
“Except that I’ve cycled through each three times.”

“Have you tried any internet searches?”

“Yes but I haven’t had any luck,” I replied.

“I think we all should try an internet search individually using dreams, running woman, this location, landmarks, and anything connected with this area. We may overlap but one person might follow a search another person would dismiss.”

“This started like on a Friday night two weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” I agreed.

“You do anything out of the ordinary that day,” Mom’s gaze narrowed.

“No, I …,” I automatically began and then remembered and it must have shown on my face.

“Atalanta,” I knew that tone but usually it was as ‘Alan’ and I always had some explaining to do afterwards. While I wasn’t banned from that place it was understood.

Grimacing I replied, “That Friday I did take Ready out for a ride.” That sentence fell flat on its face.

“And, where did you go?”

“I sort of wandered around a bit and Ready eventually led me to the canyon that doesn’t exist.” Okay so shoot me I’m a coward.

“It’s all Ready’s fault is it,” Mom accused smiling.

Maybe I wasn’t in trouble.

“No momma,” I replied, “I think it was a joint effort; Ready took me there but I led us down into the basin.”

“Then what happened,” Judy prompted me.

“I sort of had a vision,” I answered suddenly uncomfortable.

“Tell us about it dear,” mom commanded me sweetly; her voice soft and even.

Uh-oh, I was in trouble.

“There’s not much really to tell,” I protested. “I felt similar to when I was small and had a fever where everything wasn’t in proportion. And I either saw or felt some type of ceremony with drums and chants.”

“And you didn’t think this vision and the dreams are related.”

“I don’t see how,” I insisted, “The dreams are about running and the vision seemed to be more about a village or home. They’re related by simply occurring together but correlation doesn’t mean causation.” I figured that was my ace in the hole because she had preached that in our economic classes.

“I think we should still do the searches and I’ll make a few calls and see what we find,” Judy interjected.

“That makes sense,” mom agreed, “and we go from there. But you young lady,” she pointed at me, “no more secrets.”

I nodded, “Okay, but I think I’ll go to bed now.”

Alone in my bedroom I undressed and donned my nightshirt that I favored over the more frilly designs that my mother wanted me to wear. However, I habitually performed my nighttime ritual of cleansing and moisturizing and brushing my hair and tying it in place. Finished I went out to wish mom and Judy goodnight.

“Still wearing that ratty old thing I see.”

“Momma I like it.”

Atalanta's Story- Chapter 4. My thanks again go to William Durr for his help, encouragement, and editing. Any errors are mine though. As a reminder this is a Whateley Academy Fanfiction.

This is a shorter chapter. Atalanta dresses up and goes to a barbecue where she dances and learns a valuable lesson and gains more insight into her change.

Chapter Four

The Resort had a warm weather tradition of Saturday night cookouts/barbecues to both greet new attendees and leave a lasting impression on those whose week was expiring.

The menu consisted of western cuisine and lots of it. Lindsey usually helped her mother prepare the food. The truth was most of the females were involved in food preparation to a degree. The men were tasked with setting up the supports, from deploying the huge tent if the weather was rainy to tables and chairs. While alcohol was served, it was closely monitored and dispensed. The end result was team-building as most of the employees helped and even some clients lent a hand.

“So you got one picked out,” Lindsey asked me for what felt like the hundredth time as we were busy cutting and preparing the veggies for cooking.

I sighed putting down the knife and turning to her replied, exasperated, “Lindsey I don’t know if I can do this. It-seems so contrived and artificial. I’m supposed to pick out a boy I like and maneuver him into asking me on a date.”

“C’mon Atalanta you’re over thinking this. It’s simple; girls do it all the time. It’s part of our womanly charms or feminine mystique.”

“Intellectually I understand what you are saying but emotionally it’s a black hole.” Seeing her look of consternation I quickly added, “Remember before I changed and you looked at me as a potential boyfriend.” She nodded, “And afterwards …,” I prompted.

“I don’t look at girls that way,” she confessed.

“But, why,” I asked? “I’m more or less the same person inside, despite the best efforts from those that shall remain anonymous.”

“Hey,” she replied too quickly, “We’re only trying to help.”

“I know, but answer the question, please.”

“Okay while you maybe the same person it is packaged different.”

“Exactly,” I cried snapping my fingers, “the package has changed, but my instincts are to view guys as potential rivals not lovers.”

“I see,” she replied examining her hands, “that does present a problem, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” I agreed, “intellectually I understand but emotionally I’m a basket case.”

“You just need a push and I’m just the girl to help you out.”

“Lindsey Daphne Rose,” I cried mocking her mom’s tone, “don’t you dare.”

We both gave into a giggling fit. God I mentally slapped myself at the typical schoolgirl behavior. But it did feel good to laugh and maybe if I approached this attraction thing like a game it might take my mind off the dreams.

Last night was the fourteenth night for the recurring dreams. I knew they held significance but I didn’t feel they were a warning; but they seemed more like a road map.

“Girl, give it up, what’s his name. What does he look like? Is he cute?” Lindsey interrupted my musings.

I was blushing furiously and whispered shyly, “He’s a new guy; I think his dad is part of the construction crew. I think he’s about my height, dark hair, and blue eyes. Is he cute? Yes.” Oh God did I just say a boy was cute! “His name is Jack-Jack Link.”

“Like the commercial; ‘Messin’ with Sasquatch?’” She teased laughing.

“No,” I pouted and rolling my eyes.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” she confided in my ear, “I’ll get my George to chit- chat with him and bring over to our table and introduce him. How’s that,” she squealed already in matchmaker mode.

“I guess it’ll do,” I conceded glumly.

Lindsey stopped what she was doing and looking up at me her smile replaced by a frown, “Look I know this is tough for you but men and women have different life views. For us girls it is about relationships and people and boys are people. Also as girls we have to be more circumspect in our relationships. As a boy you were expected to ask the girl out; as a girl you expect to be asked out. As the asked you need to use hints to show him you’re interested and unless he’s a dick if you are not interested you gently turn him down. You should know how easily deflated a boy’s ego is.”

Yeah I knew.

I also knew that mom was concerned that in undergoing a spontaneous sex change and at puberty that I might withdraw into a shell. While I knew her motivation it didn’t mean I was comfortable in that role.

“I’ll be back in a minute. You wait right here.” Then she was gone leaving me to wonder just what the hell she was up to. I kept on slicing, dicing, and peeling the carrots, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and garlic.

Soon I saw Lindsey as she traipsed the aisle to where I was ensconced with a big wide smile on her face and her eyes dancing like firelights in the dark. I had a bad feeling.

“Okay all set,” she declared once she got in earshot of me.

“What’s all set?”

“You’ll see,” Lindsey declared mysteriously, “oh,” she added, “your mom is looking for you.”

“Thanks,” I replied dryly.

“Mom-m,” I whined, eying the clothing she had placed on my bed. My normal everyday attire was replaced with ultra feminine garments. It wasn’t they showed a lot of skin they were just so damn thin. The peach shorts required wearing a thong and the flimsy bra provided just enough material to conceal my nipples beneath the white frilly top. In place of my normal trainers was a pair of gold strappy open toed sandals.

“Mom,” I cried again wrapping my robe tighter.

“Yes, dear,” mom replied sweetly from the doorway.

I knew that tone having heard numerous times over 14 plus years. “Mom, are you advertising me for sale or something? There is not enough clothing to cover a strong breeze to say nothing about if a summer rain comes up. I might as well be naked.”

“Now Atalanta dear don’t exaggerate. Those clothes are lightweight and airy but they cover everything up by layering and misdirection. Dressing the female form is an art and this is just another lesson in subtlety.”

“Okay, mom I give; what are you up to?”

“Me,” she exclaimed, “whatever do you mean,” she returned eyes wide and mouth open, mocking.

“You saw Lindsey, what have you two cooked up?”

“Us, why nothing dear,” she replied with the same wide-eyed look frozen in place.

“Does this have anything to do with me telling Lindsey about Jack?”

“Jack, I don’t believe I know a Jack,” Liz replied sweetly, feigning ignorance. “Who is he, dear?”

“He is just a boy. Mom what have you and Lindsey cooked up?” I asked feeling dreading the implications.

“Me,” she inquired. “Okay, you got me,” she laughed. “Joking aside, I want you to experience the attention a beautiful young woman attracts from a male admirer.”

“But mom,” I pleaded, “isn’t this a bit much?”

“It is, but just a little. This will be like your coming out party,” a big wide smile lighting up her face as her eyes twinkled in excitement.

I could dredge up no more protests especially in light of my mother’s delight.

“And don’t you worry any,” she continued patting my hand, “Judy and me will be there and Lindsey and some more of the girls will watch out for you. Now, did you shave?”

“Yes mother I did.”

“Now we need to get ready.” I eyed the attire again and carefully pulled on the underwear and settling the thong on my hips then my breasts into the bra. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror I frowned at the hint of color between my hips and at the gentle swell on my chest. My nipples were concealed by a splash of color strategically placed on the sheer bandeau. The shorts and top soon followed and I went over to the vanity to complete the transformation.

“Mom, how do I look?” I asked posed hands on my hips one brightly painted foot place before the other. The dazzling luster on my toes and fingers matched my lips and hair that in a fit of rebellion I fashioned my hair into braided pigtails. I had precisely applied mascara and outlined my gray eyes by appropriate colored lids.

“Turn around for me.” I twirled easily even considering the awkwardness of the sandals.

“Well?”

“You’re beautiful,” she replied, “and I even approve of the pigtails. It contrasts well with your sophisticated look; an innocent schoolgirl charm that will leave them guessing.”

“Them?”

“Yes them … boys!”

Just then a knock announced Lindsey’s arrival and a temporary reprieve from her teasing only to be double-teamed in the end. I threw up my hands, literally and cried ‘uncle.’

“Come on Lindsey lets go,” I complained, “Jeez you girls are worse than guys.”

“You’re not mad are you?” Lindsey asked as we walked to where the table and picnic area had been set up.

“No, I don’t mind some teasing.” We walked the rest of way in thought greeting those clients, workers or their kids we met along the way.

Judy had decided that, what had started as irregular get-to-gathers on Saturday evenings would be now a formal warm weather activity. She had commissioned the construction crew to build the picnic area as well as the new clinic buildings. A covered open-air structure contained several tables and benches, and at one corner bathrooms, and along the same wall a small enclosed kitchen area. It contained a dorm size cooler, several warming trays, condiments, spices, and silverware. It was a temporary storage space. Fanning out in a semi circular pattern was more tables, these concrete, both covered and uncovered. Scattered about was several small cooking pits and behind the constructed wall and the kitchenette was a giant barbecue and smoker.

North was the big house and in between the new clinic was going up. West lay the mud baths and mineral springs and south the barns and various bike, hiking, and horse trails. Eastward was the various cottages and the road that lead off the state route.

Lindsey steered me over to a table near the kitchen area before pulling me to a stop. George was seated with his back to us and the person next to him must be Jack. They weren’t aware of us as they were facing away and from their body language were engaged in animated discussion. I hung back as she walked up and tapped George on the shoulder. He turned and snaked an arm around her waist pulling her close.

“Atalanta,” she began, “You’ve met George and this is his friend Jack.”

“Hi … Atalanta,” Jack greeted me as he stood, smiling. He was a few inches shorter than I was, heavier and up close was probably close to 16; too old for me to date. Jack was dressed in denim shorts and pullover with sneakers.

“Hi Jack,” I responded softly through lowered lids. Even as I was responding I recognized the typical coy female behavior and in recognition: blushed.

“Ah-h, how cute,” I could so kill Lindsey.

I glared at her even as the crimson spread. “Lind-se-ey!” I whispered through clenched teeth.

We sat at the table, Lindsey and me in the middle with Jack on my left and George at the other side of Lindsey.

“Nice weather for a cookout,” I noted while Lindsey rolled her eyes. Okay so shoot me for that line.

And so it began, the time honored tradition of male/female interaction. I found to my surprise that conversation was easier as a girl. All I really had to do was ask Jack questions, about himself, his dad or their travels and he talked. I just needed to listen as he rambled on and the thought, My God and they talk about females talking, came unbidden. I giggled at that thought which happened as he was telling a funny story.

Then he asked me about myself and I gave him a basic overview leaving out that three months ago I was a boy too.

“I’ll bet you were a cheerleader,” Jack asked as I finished, “You’re pretty enough.”

Gag! Still the obvious flattery felt nice.

“Yeah,” Lindsey chimed, “how come you weren’t a cheerleader,” her eyes dancing.

I gave her the “look” the one that could kill, “I was a military brat and we moved often and as the new girl,” I smiled sweetly at Lindsey, “I was often catching up on schoolwork.”

The evening progressed nicely into darkness; the boys got our food and after eating the food Lindsey and I checked out the ladies room.

After we returned to our table our conversation was interrupted by Judy’s voice coming from the loudspeaker. “Can I have your attention?”

Judy had a sound system installed and she was on a makeshift dais, “Thank you,” she smiled at her audience after they quieted.

“What is a good barbecue without music afterwards,” she asked to a chorus of agreement.

“I hope we can get live music later but recorded music will have to do for now.”

Seconds later music began to flow from the speakers and Jack asked me to dance and I accepted. For someone with no experience dancing either leading or following, dancing wasn’t as difficult as I anticipated.

I was awash in a sea of emotions though as Jack led me out for the first slow dance. After a few awkward moments to start we both settled down and I found it was pleasant to be held in masculine arms. Time seemed to stop as we moved across the floor as one. When the music stopped my head was nestled on his shoulder. Jack reluctantly released me and I stepped back while Jack gripped my hand and led me over to our seats. I was still in a daze, wrapped in the warm afterglow of … everything.

The warm clear night sky dotted with millions of stars, the comforting smells of food and drink. The murmurs of conversation floated on the night breeze. Somewhere in the night a coyote yapped and a wolf’s mournful wail lifted in response. These sensations helped to bring me out of the daze and by the time we sat I was aware of how much I had changed. Or how much sex determines our worldview.

The view and expectations from this side of the yard was certainly different than the ones I grew up with.

“Huh?” I asked Lindsey.

“Girl you need to snap out of it. You are floating on air, what did he do to you?”

“Jack? No … nothing. It is just so new and such a rush.”

Our dates, yes I was thinking of Jack as my date, had excused themselves and Lindsey and I were waiting and talking.

“I want to see if mom needs anything. I’ll be right back.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No you just hold our seats and wait here for the guys to come back.”

“Okay,” I replied with a smile, a mile wide on my face.

Just moments later another slow song began and immediately I felt a tap on my shoulder and a smooth voice, “Care to dance, Princess?”

“I’d love t …,” I began but my suitor was not Jack nor was he another boy my age. This guy was in his late teens or early twenties and he latched onto my hand pulling me on the dance floor. Before I had time to think, his arms were around me pulling me close and moving me across the floor in stilted jerky movements, which I helped to facilitate.

Over his shoulder I saw faces and expressions frozen in time. My dance partner who held me tight against his body resisted my efforts to twist free also seemed to freeze in motion, his face twisted and mouth opened in an oily smile. It was in this slow motion frame-by-frame time that his feet seemed exaggerated and frozen while whatever time distortion left me unaffected. Furious I brought my heel down hard on his instep and in the same motion drove my knee into his groin.
In an instant the time warp disappeared as he fell groaning to the dance floor and at once there was a flurry of activity and bodies as people swarmed around me.

“Oh baby, are you all right?” Mom was asking me wrapping me in her arms and squeezing tightly.

“Mom, please,” I whined, “I’m fine.” Maybe I was in shock but my focus was still centered on the time thing.

Mom led me to a table where we sat down her arm still around my shoulder followed closely by Lindsey and our dates. A few minutes after Judy sat down with us.

“Huh?” I asked to a question.

Manny Black was talking to Judy, “He was a guy we hired this week and no we don’t have any information on him. He was just a guy.”

That broke through the fog that seemed to be draped over me, just a guy. Just a guy! Suddenly I reached a decision.
“Manny can I talk to you … privately?” I asked and quietly whispered, “Mom I’ll tell you later.” We got some curious looks as we walked off a few steps.

“When do we start?”

“Start, start what?”

“The training we talked about, assuming the offer is still good.”

“Yeah it’s still good, but I am concerned this is a knee jerk reaction to what happened tonight and … there is still your mom.”

“Leave mom to me,” I declared more confidently than I felt, “and I won’t deny this is a reaction to tonight but I assure you I am committed to see it through, thanks to something you said.”

“That’s good to hear but satisfy my curiosity, “What did I say?”

“When you described him as, just a guy,” I answered.

“I don’t understand.”

“Think of it this way,” I replied, “instead of just a guy, use just any guy.”

“Hmm,” he responded thoughtfully a hand caressing his chin, “I understand. We can start Monday as long as your mom tells me it’s okay.”

“Deal,” I exclaimed, “and thanks.”

He nodded and walked off as mom, Judy, and Lindsey walked over. “What was that about?” Judy asked.

“Just a continuation from Thursday,” I returned shrugging.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading. The next chapter should be ready early next week.

Atalanta's Story- Chapter 5 Again this is edited by William Durr and any errors left are mine.

This chapter is shorter than any of the others. A transition period from male to female. From childhood to the journey into adulthood. It takes place the same night as the barbecue does.

Chapter Five

“Wow,” Lindsey chortled, “you kicked some serious butt. Did your dad teach you that?”

“No, he didn’t,” mom replied, “but I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”

“Honestly it was like his foot had a big bulls eye on it and my knee seemed to move on its own.”

“Honey are you wanting to go home,” my mom asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m not going to let that creep ruin tonight,” I retorted slipping my arm through Jack’s.

“Okay, but you stay close by and you and Lindsey stay together and don’t wander off without telling me.”

“I won’t.”

“Here you’ll need this; it’s starting to get chilly,” my mom said handing me a wrap for my shoulders. The thin materials offered little protection against the evening breeze that had just sprung up.

She whispered in my ear as she placed the mantle around my upper body, “you be careful.”

Aloud she added, “I want you girls back in an hour. Okay?”

“Sure mom,” I replied automatically, “We’re just going to see Ready.”

“I’m sure you will,” she drawled smiling smugly at me.

Before I could reply Lindsey jabbed me in my ribs causing me a fit of giggles. “Girls behave yourselves,” mom admonished us.

I shot a Lindsey a brief withering look.

“You boys have a watch,” mom asked the boys, her gaze narrowing as she focused on our escorts who up to now had been forgotten.

They fidgeted, “Yes ma’am, they chorused each holding up an arm with a watch securely fastened to it.

Mom leaned in and whispered, “I love you,” as she pecked me on the cheek.

“I love you, too mom.”

Jack and I trailed behind Lindsey and her date as we wound our way to the stables. George had an arm draped around Lindsey pulling her into his frame. I shivered slightly as Jack’s hand found mine and our fingers interlocked.
I instantly stiffened as I processed this new information. Alan had over the years on many occasions made contact with other boys. This sensation though carried a different message with it.

I must have transmitted my nervousness, “Is there something wrong, Atalanta?”

“I was just thinking of that creep.”

“You don’t have to worry about him as long as I’m here. I’ll protect you,” he boasted intertwining his arm with mine.
I was equal parts repulsed, attracted, and amused by his declaration.

“Thank you,” I smiled as he straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders. I inwardly giggled at the display of male ego as I decided to relax.

George opened the door that led inside to the stables and flipped a switch that lit a row of lights down the center of the structure. The horses snorted and stomped as the lighting startled them. A few pranced rising and pawing the air in protest.

Quickly I moved around my companions into the corridor between the stalls and going to each animal whispered comforting words. I walked up to George after they had quieted and hands on my hips declared, “George you need to let them know you’re here before you turn the lights on. Horses are easily spooked.”

He seemed to be equally surprised by the horses and my scene, “I didn’t think,” he admitted.

“No problem, just remember it okay.”

He nodded. Lindsey gave me an odd look as she led him away at the far end of path by his arm.

“How did you know what do to with the horses to calm them down.”

I stopped in mid reply; how did I know? I realized like earlier that night I didn’t know. I just acted.

“It just seemed like the thing to do,” I returned walking over to a still excited Ready and rubbing her head, “I have spoiled you haven’t I girl. You just want a lump of sugar. You big faker,” I affectionately spoke softly to Ready tossing her head and neighing seemed to agree.

“I’ll be right back. I walked towards the tack room with Jack following behind me. I didn’t bother with the light switch and brushed into Jack as I turned to leave almost tripping. His arms wrapped around me catching me our faces inches apart.
Time seemed to stop as I looked into his eyes. I instinctively moistened and parted my lips as his face drew closer. I closed my eyes as his mouth found mine and we softly kissed; sending shivers and goose bumps down my spine and out my arm. He soaked all the air from my lungs. I forgot how to breathe. Growing lightheaded I parted my lips to draw air in and instead found his tongue snaking in. Instinctively I parried with a counter thrust.

He pressed his mouth on mine harder and more demanding sending shock waves down my body and threatening to unhinge my knees. I gripped his shoulders and my body molded to his. In that moment I forgot about the barn, Lindsey and George, Ready, the dance; everything but me and he faded into the background. He pressed against my thigh.

“Knock-knock,” Lindsey called out softly from the door frame interrupting our lovemaking.

My cheeks flamed as I stepped out of his embrace, “thanks I might have fallen if you hadn’t caught me.”

“Any time,” he intoned smiling.

Ass hole!

I gave Lindsey a brief glance and silently breathed thanks. She nodded as I brushed past carrying the lump of sugar and feeling embarrassed. Swiftly I strode over to Ready and fed her the lump of sugar while burying my head in her mane and whispering in her ear. Tossing her head she seemed to agree with me.

Or else she wanted more sugar.

After a few minutes of awkward silence Lindsey walked over to me and breathed into my ear, “It’s alright Atalanta, we all make mistakes.”

I leaned into her, “I felt him.”

“How was it,” she quipped.

“Oh god you clod,” and we broke out in a giggling fit with the boys looking on bewildered. But it broke the ice and the four of us began talking among ourselves.

On the walk back I and Lindsey walked together in front whispering between us. As we did I imagined the guys admiring the women’s movement. From that assumption sprung the feeling that my hips were gyrating uncontrollably. Sneaking a peek at Lindsey; her gait seemed normal so I moved closer to her matching her movement.

“What are you doing?”

I quickly explained.

“No you’re all right,” she declared, “but let’s give them something to think on tonight anyway.” Rolling my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at her and nodded.

We each wrapped an arm around the other and nodding began a pretentious catwalk strut but after just a few steps we burst into laughter.

“What are you girls up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” we replied mysteriously.

“Sure,” they countered hurrying to catch up with us. We walked the rest of the way back, shoulder-to-shoulder and chatting amicably.

We stopped at the cookout structure where I hugged Lindsey and whispered, “Thanks,” in her ear.

I turned to Jack, “thank you Jack for escorting me tonight. I had a lovely evening,” I said leaning in and giving him a swift peck on the cheek.

“It was my pleasure,” he declared, “and I’ll be glad to walk you home,” he added hopefully.

“Thank you, but I got to find momma.” He had a sad expression as he turned and left.

I felt a little guilty but I did need to find mom. She would have a fit if I didn’t. After the scene in the barn I wasn’t sure I need to be alone with Jack anyway.

“Did you have fun tonight, dear?” Mom asked me as we were leaving to go home.
I nodded, "me and Lindsey---".

"---I thought your date was with Jack," she teased.

Later while walking home with my mom she asked, “He kissed you, didn’t he?”

I nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

“How did it make you feel?”

The memory was still fresh on my mind and I still tasted his lips and mine still tingled.

After the ruckus on the dance floor the four of us had walked up to the barn and under the stars and a full moon that was huge and hung low in the night sky with the stars forming a twinkling backdrop. There was enough of a chill, away from the fire, that Jack’s arms around me felt warm and comfortable.

The kiss wasn’t unexpected.

The results were.

Almost immediately blood rushed to my lips and from there spread out and down sending tongues of warmth that settled in my lower body. My mouth also felt like it was connected to my ears and my legs. I thought my knees would buckle and the roaring in my head seemed wash away any rationale sense I had. I could still feel the glow.

“Tingly all over and afterwards sort of’ empty, you know.”

“Sweetie I know exactly. Listen,” she stopped us and facing me, “I understand and this is exactly why I wanted you to experience this part of girlhood so that it could be a learning moment.”

We began walking as she explained, “Even for girls from birth when puberty sets in the flood of hormones causes many young girls to make unwise decisions. That empty feeling was your body acknowledging sex and now you know why I brought up all that I did. I want you to have a good start in life and some boy getting you pregnant is not what I want for you at your age.”

“Gross,” I cried as unbidden images raced through my mind. “It’s not what I want either.”

“Good now you understand the consequences and what we as females have to be conscious of. And I suggest you keep that in mind.”

“Okay mom, you’ve made your point,” I returned and suddenly thinking of my earlier talk with Manny added, “Another thing mom is what happened earlier with that creep and Manny’s offer of training that I’d like to take.”

“Atalanta I’m not comfortable with that idea yet.”

“Mom I’m not comfortable with the necessity or for that matter our talk tonight or several of our talks at that. But something that Manny said about that guy tonight sealed it for me.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was just some guy as in he could be any guy that I meet. If it is prudent to be careful with sex it seems to me to be equally cautious about self defense.”

“Believe me I understand about defending one’s self,” Liz replied unlocking their front door, “but I still am not sure if he is just some guy, either,” she argued.

“Mom,” I replied after we were inside and seated at the kitchen table, “I think we both know that he’s not just some guy. There is one more thing though that maybe you haven’t thought about.”

“Oh?” She asked arching her eyebrows, “and what would that be ?”

“Yes. From what everyone said they were surprised that I was able to do what I did. No one was more surprised than I was. The odd thing though was everything seemed to slow down except for me.”

I rose from the table and retrieved a container of juice from the refrigerator and poured us each a glass.

“Mom, have you thought why or for what reason I was changed or who did it?”

“I gave up trying to.”

“I think I gained more than what’s obvious. I’m faster, quicker and some stronger now. Don’t you think that training will help me from hurting someone accidentally?”

“Stronger?”

“Yeah it seems to kick in when I’m running or at least that’s when I started to notice it. And the dreams are what gave me the inclination to run.”

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” mom warned.

“I guess, but it feels related in here,” I replied indicating my heart area.

“Paying attention to your body’s signals is a good habit to develop.”

I nodded in agreement.

“I think it is time we were both in bed and we can’t do anything tonight,” mom replied shooing me off to bed.

I hope you enjoy reading Atalanta's Story. I'll answer any questions that don't give away too much. In fact if any of you are well-versed in mythology I'd like to pick your brain. Thanks again for reading.

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 6 This chapter involved a lot of rework and back and forth with William Durr. My grammar skills are not the best so any errors that I left are mine. This is also longer than most of the chapters and the hardest to get right.

A lot happens in this chapter, some discoveries, some mysteries and Atalanta has her first date. She starts to grow up and assert herself a little bit.

Chapter Six

As I lay in bed later that night, I thought about what mom said about training with Manny and what she implied my body wanted to do with Jack. I pushed that to the back of my mind.

Since my change several months earlier I was kept busy and had not given any thought to the why’s or who’s. After finding I was more athletic gifted as a girl and tonight’s show of time-lapse motion I seriously had to think it wasn’t an accident. This meant that someone or something is targeting me.

As I started to drift off to sleep an image of Jack crept into my mind and brought with it the feelings of his kissing me.

Liz was also reviewing the day’s events and she admitted that the why or who of Alan’s transformation to Atalanta had not occurred to her before. A frown crossed her face as she recalled Atalanta’s desire to learn self-defense. A soft hum and moan from the room next to hers brought a smirk to her face as she rolled over and slid deeper under covers.

Early Monday morning as Manny and I were stretching I inquired, “Manny, did Mom talk to you?”

He nodded and wordlessly handed me two pairs of small cuffs whose size belied their weight.

“These are one pound wrist and ankle weights.”

I snapped each into place and experimentally shook my hands and feet.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I declared after careful examination of the circlets.

At each early morning session he brought me weighted cuffs and exchanged them each morning for others with different sizes and weights. He often gave me un-equal weights to help improve the balance for each arm or leg.

After the first week, we began with separate forms, katas as they were called, and once I showed competency in each he chained them until we joined the forms into a free-flowing choreography of movement. Interspersed were lessons using my eyes to hear, and my ears to see. After several months of training, I could see blindfolded or hear with earplugs on.

The dreams continued through that first week covering the four directions in consecutive nights and then repeating and always with me bringing the supply of corn to the same place. Every night the dream ended at that place. Each direction always leads to the same destination until by now I knew the landmarks and at least two of the locations.

From my research, by Friday afternoon of that first week I felt sure the craggy snow-capped peaks rising sharply from the floor of a valley had to be Mount Blanca and the San Luis Valley that I arrived at on each fifth night. The isolated domed peak could only be Navajo Mountain.

After discovering these mountains were sacred to the Navajo, I deduced the other locations in my dreams were also sacred locations.

The following Monday I had established to my satisfaction the other locations in my dreams as San Francisco Peaks and Mount Taylor. Moreover, I believed it likely to be Huerfano Mesa, the destination where I placed the supply of corn at the end of each dream.

I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect what meaning it held as this week Monday, Manny increased our running and conditioning regimen to include more katas as they related to what we were already doing. We spent an extra hour each day learning the individual forms. Manny called it building muscle memory and he said I’d get to the point where I could use it without thinking.

Thursday morning as we were warming up I said, “Manny I need this afternoon off. Tonight’s dinner is the four month anniversary and it’s kind of special.”

“What is the fourth month an anniversary of?”

I replied smoothly after a moment’s panic, “It has been four months since our move out here.”

“That’s all right,” he replied, “I have to leave in the morning for business for a couple of days anyway. That will give you time for your big date on Saturday too,” he teased.

“Oh joy,” I snorted.

“What’s the matter, I thought you were looking forward to it?”

“Mom thinks I should be less a tomboy and more like a lady and this is part of her way to balance out my self-defense training.”

“Instead of beating them up buttering them up,” he chuckled.

I punched him on the shoulder, “something like that.”

“Oh!”

“You big faker,” I declared.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you are going to make one fine lady Atalanta, you are already a beautiful girl. Learn to play the game. I can teach you this part but your mom will be the one to teach you the other part.”

“Ready,” he announced.

My horse snorted in the background at hearing his name. Turning around I pointed at the barn’s interior and whispered, “What’s that?”

I sprinted past him as he turned to where I had pointed, “Gotcha.”

That Thursday dinner started as every other did, with mom and Judy coming through the door just before dark and talking shop. The stove timer started beeping as they came into the kitchen.

“Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes,” I declared removing the covered dish from the oven letting it simmer.

“Smells good honey,” mom replied giving me cheek peck, “anything I can do to help?”

“You can set the table.”

Ten minutes later I removed the bread placing it and the roasted chicken beside the salad on the table, “Dig in,” I announced setting at the table.

We did.

After eating, cleaning up and putting leftovers away we gathered around the table, “Excited about your date Saturday?” Judy prompted.

“Nervous is more like it,” I replied remaining neutral.

What followed was 15 minutes of advice; advice on what clothes to wear, dating etiquette, and then mom and Judy began retelling dates from hell. I zoned out.

Until.

“Wasn’t funny then,” mom noted, “but looking back it was those experiences that made me appreciate your dad all the more.”

I had never given it much thought; I assumed I would grow up find a girl settle down and raise a family. It was just something that happened.

Now as a girl and growing up female, it seemed I acquired a different set of priorities. We girls seemed to have a battle plan with strategies and a point system in place. What was worse is that it made sense to me. At least I could see how from this side of the fence it made sense to test your man. As the physically weaker partner and the one who for nine months was vulnerable having basic guidelines seemed wise.

As a male, babies seemed a distant and hazy concept but now I knew that when my period started that possibility would be a real and constant companion for the next three decades.

“You still have the dreams?”

I nodded, “Tonight will be 28 nights straight; four cycles repeated seven times.”

“Any ideas?”

I told them what I suspected about the locations and my research on the Navajo people.

“So you think your dreams have something to do with the Changing Woman lore of the Navajo?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I do. Changing Woman gave birth to the first Navajo people and the Navajo still have fertility rites today that rely heavily on that lore. The numbers four and five deem to hold significance and I have in my dreams run in the four directions seven times. Seven times four is 28 and 28 is the number of days and times of moon cycles and another cycle.”

Judy and mom smiled weakly at that forecast.

“My dreams seemed to be a modified version of a maidens’ passage into womanhood because in the Navajo tradition the young girl runs in each direction once and culminates on the fifth night with a tribal ceremony.”

“I take it that you haven’t dreamt the ceremony then?”

I shook my head, “I don’t believe I will either. I feel it here,” I replied cupping my stomach area, “that tonight is the last night for these particular dreams.”

“And then,” mom prompted.

I raise my shoulders palms up, “Wait and see, I suppose.”

She sighed audibly, “That’s not very encouraging.”

“Well mom,” I quipped, “this doesn’t even meet the level of unusual after spontaneously changing sexes.”

Nervous laughter greeted my proclamation. We talked a little while longer before I announced that my bed was calling me.

Sitting in front of my dresser, I started my nightly ritual after undressing and removing my bra and donning my old “ratty” flannel nightshirt. I stopped brushing my hair and reflected on the girl in the mirror. She had a contented smile in place seemingly soothed by the mundane task of brushing her hair. I grunted-yes a real Neanderthal grunt, a backlash at femininities relentless push. I then giggled at the cognizant dissonance that image produced.

Rising I padded down the hall to the kitchen to say goodnight.

“Atalanta,” my mom began as I kissed her cheek, “why are you wearing that ratty old thing?”

“It is comfortable.” The oversized shirt was a hand-me-down from my dad when I was Alan and wearing it gave me comfort at night and acted as a bridge between two worlds.

As the red numerals flashed 5:00 AM on Friday morning, I immediately woke from a sound sleep and after necessary morning rituals; I dressed in my habitual running clothes and then left our cottage for the stables to stretch and warm-up before my five-mile mad dash cross-country race.

This morning I chose the rather level mesa back of the ranch as it was relatively free of obstacles and shorter than our usual foray into the steep rocky inclines to the valley rim. I wasn’t interested in the view or the challenge that route offered today.

Slowing to a comfortable jog at the stable I began to walk, cooling down, on the path from the stables to our house feeling on edge and out-of-synch with my internal clock. Something kept picking at the corners of my mind.

Mom was probably just now coming awake as it was only 6 AM. I shortened my stride coming into view of the cottage.

“Honey what are you going to do today with all this extra time on your hands?” I had just walked into the kitchen after showering off the dust, grime, and sweat from my morning run.

“I think I’ll go riding, Ready needs to stretch her legs,” I answered taking a bite of breakfast.

“Like that,” mom accused.

I was dressed in boots, jeans, a tee, and twirling a baseball hat in my free hand with my hair tied back and minimal make-up applied.

“Mom,” I whined, “these are comfortable riding clothes and I’ll change once I get back.” It was true as a girl sweat and grime just plain made me feel bad. The perspiration seemed to coat my skin. I theorized that the small amount of hair I had as Alan helped to wick away the moisture.

“Atalanta, I swear you’re turning into a tomboy.” It was all so natural now the ebb and flow of conversation between us; it was as if we were always mother and daughter.

Liz momentarily froze as her words and actions sunk in and a few butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She felt a small amount of guilt rise with those butterflies; realizing that that she felt closer to Atalanta than she had with Alan.
She also realized that if she had the power to change Atalanta back into Alan she probably wouldn’t but if she could avoid it happening at all that she probably would. That realization brought home that humans were clearly adaptable.

“Honey,” she quizzed tentatively, “if you could would you change back?”

I bit my tongue cutting off the snazzy retort I had prepared instantly sensing a change in dynamics.

“To be honest mom I haven’t given it much thought at least not lately. I wouldn’t have deliberately chosen this path but it might be for the best,” I replied, sighing at this confession.

“How so?”

“I’m sure Alan would have found his … passion or his talent … skills, however you label it but losing Dad left me drifting. Being Atalanta though has challenged me enough that I haven’t had time to dwell on the … accident,” I replied biting my lower lip.

Liz in that moment realized that in helping Atalanta cope and directing the ranch’s clinic expansion she had healed from her husband’s death. She also realized they hadn’t properly mourned his passing.

Mother and daughter embraced silently crying, mourning the loss of the man in their lives.

“Great,” I moaned my eyes shining and sporting a smile a mile wide, “now I have to redo my makeup.”

A weight that we had labored under had lifted. We giggled nervously and then hysterically ending with a series of hiccups. I quickly retired to my room and redid my face.

“Don’t forget your cell phone and jacket,” mom reminded me as I returned to the kitchen.

“Got it covered,” I replied shrugging into the jacket and pulling the phone from a pocket.

“Honey I want you to know I loved when you were here,” she said patting her tummy, “when you were born, when we moved here, yesterday, today, and all the tomorrows.”

I knew, not an intelligent or mental knowing but a deeper emotional connection.

“I know and mom … I love you too.”

I felt like I was walking on air and literally skipped to the stables. Humming, I saddled Ready, checking the cinch to see that it was tight, and slinging a couple of canteens of water from the horn. I slipped a pair of binoculars and several power bars into the saddlebags and patted my pocket for the phone.

Satisfied, I led Ready outside and swung on to the saddle.

“Ready to stretch your legs,” I clucked to the filly as we cantered into the high desert.

The sun, over my left shoulder was warming, chasing the nighttime cold away. Still humming a familiar tune that I couldn’t place, I let Ready have her head as to direction and gait.

A couple of hours later I pulled back on the reins staring down at arroyo that Ready had unerringly headed for.

“I should have known,” I muttered and then slapping the horse’s neck, “girl what do you know that I don’t?”

Ready whinnied a “duh” in reply.

“We could do with a break,” I muttered, dismounting and leading my horse over to a stand of pines that offered shade and a meager foliage for her to munch on. After eating a power bar and washing it down with water from the canteen, I filled my hat with water and letting Ready drink her fill.

From the sun’s position, it was about 10 A.M., and if we left now I just had time to get back to the ranch by 12. I gradually became aware of a smell that seemed familiar yet remained elusive. The scent jogged memory centers that too remained just out of reach. But awakened memories brought with it sights and sounds.

My feet moved, taking me over to the trail that led down into the depression where the rope guide had been built to keep anyone else from wandering off. My vision blurred momentarily and my ears began buzzing; I stumbled down the incline.

On my hands and knees, I looked up and shaking my head to clear my vision and to fend off the bees that buzzed in my ears, I was dimly aware of Ready whinnying. The sun was warm on my back.

In the distance, an earthen dome-shaped hogan formed from the mist followed shortly by women of all ages in buckskins. They were busy by the fire and accompanied by soft drumbeats and chanting, recitals or prayers … a celebration or a … ceremony.

I watched a young girl … a young girl about my age emerge from the structure and go over to the fire. Her back was to me and I couldn’t see what she was doing at the fire or her face. I did see her break off and hand pieces of bread to those around the fire. I could tell she was tall, dark, and red-haired but she did look familiar.

She turned and went back inside the hogan after handing everyone a piece of the bread with her entourage following.

Rooted in place, I watched the hogan entrance intently for any activity. As I did, I became aware that the buzzing in my ears had lessened and the mist had become heavier, slowing absorbing the Hogan into its embrace. Over time, I became aware of the sun beating down and Ready stomping nervously behind me.

Climbing slowly to my feet and looking around I shook my head at the bleak landscape devoid of hogans, fire, or people.

“Weird,” I mumbled climbing back up the bank walking over to where Ready was pacing.

“Easy girl,” I spoke softly, scratching her behind her ears. Retrieving the canteen, I gave each of us a drink of water from it. Looking at the sun, I called mom to let her know I would be running late.

After tightening the cinch, I swung up on to the saddle and pointed Ready toward home while I contemplated what had happened that morning, and what it meant.

“Mom,” I called out in the apparently empty clinic, “I’m bac-k-k.” I heard a noise … a door closing in the back and the steady click-click on the tile and in seconds mom appeared in the hallway.

“How was your trip dear,” she asked.

I hesitated before answering, “Today was nice,” I smiled, “it felt good to do just what I wanted to. Thank you,” I added hugging my mom.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself today,” she replied stepping back and asked, “but what happened.”

“Huh,” I replied bewildered.

“Atalanta you have dirt on your knees and elbows; what have you been into?”

Countering I replied, “Mom, I’m a tomboy you said so yourself. But I guess I better go and clean up.”

"Wear something nice,dear," she replied sweetly.

“I know mom,” I replied exasperated as I left for our house knowing mom’s “something nice” was code for skirts and dresses.

Saturday morning came too quickly but the day was bright and sunny. After breakfast mom put her foot down; I wasn’t allowed to run or see Ready. No, I had to be mindful of the needs and time involved when a girl has a date. I’m sure mom emphasized that to make a suitable impression.

Needless to say, I was grumpy and breakfast was not as tasty as normal. I chalked it up to nerves. I grumbled when mom told me to take a long hot bath but once I slid into the hot scented and soapy waters, I didn’t want to leave. The heat seemed to soak into my body releasing tension I didn’t know existed.

“Atalanta you’ve been in the bath long enough. You don’t want to look like a prune.”

“In a minute,” I called back.

“Atalanta!”

“I’m coming,” I called reaching for a towel and rising from the water. I slowly dried myself taking a perverse pleasure in the deliberate action.

We spent the next two hours getting me ready; partly due because it took a while to convince mom I would freeze wearing the thin dress she had selected. She teased that is what boys were for until she saw I was serious and relented. I wanted wool or heavy flannel to bundle up in. We comprised with knee-high socks and a mid-thigh length skirt and blouse. I didn’t like the way my breasts stood out when I tucked my blouse into the skirt. And the wide belt around my waist emphasized the flaring of my hips and breasts.

She braided my hair into a modified Dutch look with the braid hanging down my right shoulder. Make-up followed by several discreet spritz of perfume on various places on my body and I was pronounced ready.

Lindsey’s mom was going to drive us into town and mom was picking us up in town afterwards. They were going to pick Jack and me up here. Jack was supposed to arrive early for inspection as it were.

Mom, camera in hand snapped pictures of me as I came into the living room. Sitting demurely on the sofa I whined, “Mom isn’t this a bit much?”

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but a girl wants to make a good first impression.”

“Okay,” I frowned. A knock at the door signaled Jack’s arrival interrupting what reply mom had formed.

“I’ll get the door and you stay right there.” Mom came in sight followed by Jack. He was dressed in slacks, a solid shirt, and shoes. He looked good but a pang of envy shot through me; it had probably taken less than 30 minutes for him to get ready for our date.

So not fair I groused to myself as he came over and sat down beside me.

“You’re beautiful,” he gushed and despite myself, my cheeks reddened.

“Thank you and you look handsome.” Mom had to take more pictures and some with us hand holding. At that moment, we heard Hannah’s car drive up.

“You kids have a good time,” she said as we rose from the sofa to leave with my hand clasped in his.

“And don’t forget …”

“I won’t,” I replied patting my purse where my cell phone was stashed as we walked across the threshold.

With an inward sigh of relief, I saw that George had claimed a backseat and I’d be setting up front and reclaiming my hand.

I’m not going into detail about that afternoon except to say it was enjoyable. The boys sprung for some food at a local diner of burger and fries and then off to the movies where we watched a thriller type movie. I have to admit to certain times in the movie where Jack’s bodily presence was welcomed.

I did kiss him, or he kissed me, or we kissed each other. It might have been all three but I’m not telling.

It would have been better had I not been on edge or get comfortable with heat setting in the theatre. After the movie, we went to a dairy place for ice cream and waited on my mom to arrive.

Monday I arose earlier to draw another bath and linger before I met with Manny for my self-defense training sessions. I hadn’t slept well waking often to find a more comfortable spot to lie on. The irony was that I slept like a baby when I was having those dreams but since they had stopped it seemed so had restful sleep.

I grunted in reply to Manny’s question about the weekend only half-listening. The other half was on my aches and pains.

“What,” I asked.

“Atalanta what happened? I go away for two days and you fall to pieces.”

That got my undivided attention. What had happened? Saturday and Sunday I chalked up to nerves but not last night or today. Time to man or was it woman up.

“Sorry Manny, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Can we start again?”

He nodded and he went over again explaining the use and theory behind katas. Despite myself, I found it interesting, and dutifully followed his instructions with the rest of our time being fruitful.

The rest of the day was a repeat of Sunday; I had to consciously remind myself to focus on the task at hand. Fits of daydreaming were followed by bouts of forced concentration. I felt off and out of sorts that mom commented about and at my lack of appetite at supper.

“Atalanta, are you coming down with something?”

“I don’t know,” I replied picking at my food.

Mom got up and retrieved a thermometer placing it in my mouth.

“You do have a slight fever,” she declared frowning, “I prescribe rest and aspirin,” she added handing me the pill.

“You’re the doctor,” I quipped rising from the table walking to my bedroom to undress for bed.

In the wee hours of Tuesday a scream split open the seams of night stillness and reverberated against the cottage walls.
The scream shattered Liz’s dream state and she sprung out of her bed and down the hall before she was fully conscious. She rushed into Atalanta’s room to find her daughter sitting up in bed sobbing. Looking wildly around the room, Liz spotted the dark stains on the sheets and gently released a pent-up breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Immediately she sat beside Atalanta on the bed pulling her into her arms offering soothing alms. “Su-sh baby it will be all right, I’m here.”

While she was comforting Atalanta, she was mentally kicking herself for not recognizing the signs earlier.

I had with support, coped well with a spontaneous sex change. In fact, other than sitting down to pee and more emphasis on appearance the male and female divide didn’t seem that wide. I hadn’t gone through puberty as a male so I had lost very little. My voice hadn’t broke and the effects of testosterone had not changed my facial and bone structures.

Instead, estrogen became the template of change that widened that divide into a chasm that I couldn’t ignore. The leaking fluids hammered home the differences in sexes and forced me to abandon any thought of the change being reversible. There was no escape!

“I’m sorry mom,” I sniffled, “I knew this was coming but …”

“It is all right sweetie. The first time is hardest.”

Mom took me into the bathroom and showed me how to take care of my needs. As I did, I was secretly glad that I had done some exploring with the little massager. Mom changed the sheets while I changed into clean clothes that included the nightgown mom harped about that I wear.

“That looks good on you,” mom noted pointing to the gown. And added yet another nail, I thought.

“I guess, but I still want my shirt,” I replied pouting.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate?”

I had not even gave the thought of anything to drink but chocolate was all I could think of now.

“Yes, yes,” I answered salivating at the thought.

“You wait right here while I make it,” mom commanded.

“Okay,” I meekly acquiesced.

She returned in a few minutes carrying two cups handing me one while she sipped from hers. We sat side by side on the bed in companionable silence, forging a shared bond between mother and daughter eons old.

I hugged her neck after we finished whispering, “I love you mom.”

“I love you too … daughter.”

We both wore goofy smiles.

“I’m giving you the next two days off. Don’t worry I’ll let Manny know that you’ve got a minor bug and that I’m keeping you at home.”

“Thanks, mom,” I replied burrowing under the covering and dropping off to sleep.

“Feeling better kiddo,” Manny asked me Thursday morning.

“I do,” I answered anxious to get started. I still felt compromised but felt I needed to resume normal activities.

"Glad to hear it. I thought you were coming down with something Monday.”

We began with same introduction as on Monday with him explaining the theory behind katas, to that, he added CQC (close quarter combat) skills using wooden props to defend or attack while learning where on the human body the 358 pressure points were located. I learned which pressure point was painful, which pressure point was lethal, and how much force to use for each one. He often demonstrated their effectiveness on me.

Mom wasn’t thrilled when I came home sweaty and dirty with the occasional torn clothing or skinned knee or bruised arm. I kept her placated by keeping my female training squared away.

If that didn’t seem to work, I pointed that Manny was keeping me too busy to mourn for Jack or go “boy crazy.” Mom didn’t buy that line as she knew I had told Jack I was too young to date and he was too old for me. But she tactfully skirted that issue.

Mom chose to home school me as did many of the parents. She reasoned and I agreed that it would help me to become acclimated to my new role in society. I was always a quick learner, even more so now, and already in advanced classes at my old school. I tested out of many subjects, so for much of my school day, I spent on second year curriculum subjects.

I judiciously applied myself to my schoolwork and to Mom’s and Manny’s training.

Despite appearances the two types of training meshed seamlessly. Mom’s subtle makeup tricks, different hairstyles and clothing options opened my eyes to using camouflage. Manny training in fine-tuning my senses paid dividends on balance and deportment. Mom’s warnings about doped drinks echoed Manny’s on subterfuge.

I dedicated myself to pleasing the two most important people in my life and inwardly giggled when both told me I was a “natural.”

At the fifth week, Manny began teaching me to use weapons: improvised, primitive, and modern weaponry. We begin first with diagrams and the parts of each and the theory on its design, which fit nicely with some of my science projects. I learned to use swords, knives, and spears as well as semi auto rifles, pistols, and bolt and lever-action rifles and that I had to learn to field strip and make minor repairs to them.

Manny built a gun range well out in the country where we wouldn’t be seen or disturbed. He rightfully concluded we needed privacy.

Within several months, I was proficient and comfortable with using all of them and we spent many a weekend shooting.

Manny surprised me with his graduation present of a necklace and pendant that was really nice and pretty. Mom though wouldn’t have been happy had she known that it contained a 2” fixed blade. Probably less so had she known my hairpins could double as deadly stilettos or my piano wire bracelets.

“Manny,” I teased, pointing at his regulation haircut, “I know you can’t use these things, how do you know about them?”

He grinned replying, “Situational awareness kiddo in case I meet a lady as crazy as I am. And I just did.”

The high-pitched growl of the ATV shattered the cold brittle dawn air as sound traveled easily in the frigid high desert air; the driver bundled and hunched against the freezing temperature. Alongside was a lone figure that effortlessly kept pace despite the rough and rocky terrain.

Manny was still impressed that a 13-year-old girl who had no history of outdoor activity or any training at defense could so easily assimilate its subtleties and nuances so quickly. Atalanta in three months had become proficient in and well on her way to mastering any of the weapons he introduced her to: assassin and improvised tools, melee and blunt weapons, blades, bows, and modern guns. More disconcerting though was her rapid immersion in the mindset and he worried.

She was a natural and in his experience, a natural was a natural for a reason. His sense was that once awakened, a natural by accident or design was thrust into situations to use those skills. He never expected to train one so young on a path whose members were limited in number and longevity. Worse was that she was a girl! He felt responsible and guilt.

He wished he could back out but doing so would be leaving her vulnerable, half-trained. No, he had to see it through, just as she did now; they were on the same path and linked in that.

They were a couple of miles from the ranch and already he could feel the cold creeping in despite the parka and fur-lined hood and boots. She, on the other hand was dressed in a windbreaker, light gloves and boots. A ski mask was her only concession to the wintry conditions. She seemed comfortable as her pink glowing skin testified.

He stopped at the ridgeline and looked into the channel, hewn from the mountain range. The small valley roughly 100 by 700 yards, brush choked and boulder strewn lay 200 yards below them and pointing north to south. He had hauled and erected plywood props to simulate urban scenarios. Humanoid targets were placed at 100-yard intervals and at 20-yard intervals inside the 100-yard mark.

Manny enjoyed the hours each week they spent honing skills in the solitude of the wilderness; tempered by the knowledge of the road he had unknowingly set her on.

“Race you to the bottom; the last one down collects the brass,” he heard her call and laughter on the wind. Instead, he watched her form floating from ledge to ledge in a mad rush to the bottom. He visibly winced.

I knew Manny thought I was reckless rushing headlong but I couldn’t help push his button and tease.

“Hey old man what took you so long,” I asked looking up from the bench after he cut the engine off.

“You going to break your fool neck one of these days,” he replied growling and handing me my gear strapped to the quad.

“What’s the plan for today,” I asked storing our kits.

“Hostage and rescue and then we’ll finish with the bow.

“Cool,” I answered finding my pistol and buckling it in place. Manny had made and installed spring assisted targets, some were separate, and other had several images on a single structure. The goal was disabling the bad guys while not hitting any friendlies.

After 90 minutes and several hostage rescue scenarios, we stopped for review and debriefing.

“Admit it Manny, that was perfect,” I griped after the third time he had me recount the same scenario.

“It was good,” he admitted, “but not perfect.”

“Humph, you just don’t want to admit a girl can kick your marine buddies’ asses.”

A quick frown crossed his face before he replied grinning, “Get your bow.”

I felt a moment of vertigo leaning over stringing the bow and the shooting stand was replaced by a rocky hillside seen from a height of several feet. I again felt the sensation of slow motion as I took in every detail and began moving towards an outcropping of rocks that was drawing me to it.

I heard the bleating before I saw the day old lamb shivering on wobbly legs, crying for its mother. Poor Baby! Another smell demanded my attention. On my left and directly facing his prey was a large mountain cat, poised ready to launch. In one motion, I notched and let fly a razor-sharp arrow that struck the cat in his shoulder just inches into his jump.
I notched a second arrow; a heavy broad head this time, that struck the cat in the front shoulders with force enough to move his course a few inches. It helped, too that the ledge that cat was on was slightly lower than the one the lamb was perched on. The big cat screamed as the arrow hit causing the lamb to flinch.

A third hunting arrow followed the first two striking in quick succession, the third hitting him a few inches just before his landing belly down scattering rock and debris, stopping scant inches from his intended victim.

“Damn, Atalanta I didn’t know you could shoot like that,” Manny shouted as he ran up to me.

“Like what?”

“Hitting a big cat three times in the air is what. Have you been practicing when I wasn’t looking?”

I shook my head, “Surprised me too,” I replied as we walked over to the where the cat and lamb was. The latter was still frozen in place and shivering, bawling on the morning air.

Manny raised his gun, “Poor thing I might as well put him out of his misery. He’ll freeze to death without his mother in minutes.”

“No!” I shouted marching over to where the lion and the lamb were and dropping to my knees; I pulled my boot knife making a quick incision under the neck. Five minutes later the lamb was wrapped tightly in the mountain cat’s warm hide.

We walked back to the ATV where I climbed into the passenger seat and waited while Manny gathered and secured our equipment. He produced a thermal insulator and wrapped it around the both of us.

“Where to?”

“Isn’t there a sheep camp a few miles in that direction?” I asked pointing south of our site. “They will be better able to care for this little baby lamb.”

Nodding he started the engine and released the clutch.

Several miles and 30 minutes later, we found the camp in a blind coulee that opened to the south with the campsite itself butted against the cliff. Though there wasn’t much vegetation in winter, what little survived did so in the protected lees and sheltered draws. There wasn’t much in the way of grass but there was enough. The camp showed signs of having been in place for a time.

The quad’s roar startled the sheep and the human inhabitants who quickly gathered.

One weather-beaten man in his 50’s or 60’s stepped forward smiling, his white teeth in sharp contrast with his sun darkened skin.

“Welcome to our camp, get down and stretch your legs. How can we help you? We have coffee or something to eat?”

“No thanks we’re fine, but …” the lamb interrupted Manny’s explanation with loud bleating, prompting the old man to cross to my side and lift the blanket.

“Ah, I see,” and then his eyes widened at the sight of the lion hide, “You got the lion too I see.”

“Had to,” I replied, “It was the lion or the baby sheep.”

He called for a shepherd to come and take the lamb.

“See if that new mother will claim this one?”

“Come with me,” he motioned for me and Manny to follow him to his tent, explain that they had a sheep that lost her baby just yesterday that would claim our lamb as her own.

Once inside he crossed over to a large trunk, pulled from it a strong box, and pulled some cash from it, carefully counting it and offering it to Manny.

“What is this?”

“Bounty,” the old man responded, “$300 for lions, $100 each for coyotes and foxes.”

“Give it to Atalanta, she killed and skinned it.” He stuffed the bills into my hands despite my protests.

“Take it child, you’ve earned it. It is worth every penny as these predators make it hard to increase our herd and profits. You skinned it too?”

“Surprised me too,” Manny admitted, “I was starting to teach her about using the bow and she just took off running.

The next thing I know she killed it.”

“You killed this lion with … a bow!”

I nodded sheepishly.

“Not only that,” Manny continued grinning widely, “she hit it three times while the lion was in the air.”

I gave him the look, the one that says shut up that seemed to jog his memory.

“Now that I think back on it how did you knew there was a lion or where it was at,” Manny asked turning to me and returning the look.

“I didn’t know; at least not at first and then I smelled him.”

The old sheepherder turned his eyes to me and quietly looked at me and then looked off in the distance and spoke in soft monotones as if reading a script.

“Around our campfires at night, when we hear the coyotes song or the cry of the panther we tell tales of she who rides the wind. Like a ghost appearing and disappearing at will, she protects the flock from all predators. In the old tales handed down from father to son from the old country, she uses lance, spear, or bow; though I suppose you can use modern weapons as well. Tell me child how long have you been practicing with the bow?”

Looking over at Manny, I swallowed hard, “I just started.”

“I was just teaching her the basics,” he confirmed.

“Ah, okay here,” he said handling me a 2 way radio, “take this radio.”

“Why?”

“I’ll use the radio to keep in touch … if we run into another lion and … if you just happen to be in that area.”

He had left a lot unsaid but I took the radio anyway. We said our goodbyes and we left for the ranch on the quad with me in the passenger seat. I had a lot to think on. The ride was in silence until Manny stopped on the crest that led down to the ranch buildings.

“Atalanta I need to warn you about what happened this morning. You are a 13-year-old girl, and people can and will take advantage of you if you are not diligent. That includes me. No, just listen,” he raised his hands when I started to interrupt, “Let me finish.”

“I hadn’t brought it up before because until this morning my training you was in the abstract, what-if scenarios that you are unlikely to need because of where you live as an example. I’ve told you that you are A Natural and you are. You pick up this remarkably quick for someone who has not been exposed to it before. But you have a skill that one in a hundred doesn’t have: The ability to transfer those skills to life situations as you demonstrated with the lion this morning.”

“Now here is the sticky part; people like that old shepherd will ask you to do things because you can. And you are likely to accept because you can. You are also more likely to intervene on behalf of the weak, the defenseless, and the young. You are not likely to be in a combat zone so you’ll need to learn to use the right tactics.”

I sat in stunned silence digesting his words. Finally I asked, “Are you telling me I can kill people … that I’m a killer or potential killer.”

“Yes and no. Atalanta what you have to understand is people with our kind of skills are very rare and in demand. And the universe seems to conspire to bring to us events that need us. Like the old shepherd, private security firms, government agencies, bounty hunters, mercenaries and freelance. I didn’t know any of this when I started but you have the advantage of my experience to lean on. The trick is not to lose who you are in some cause.”

“So what do you suggest I do; quit the training?”

“No, you need more training, not less. But I highly recommend you not respond directly to any messages from that old shepherd. I do suggest you carry a weapon though if you do run across another lion. I don’t believe you need the responsibility of a bounty hunter now. And believe me he will play on your sympathies if you do. Remember that it is you that is in charge.”

“Okay,” I responded digging out the radio and handing it to him, “why don’t you hold this for me, at least for a while.”

“Good idea,” Manny replied stowing the radio in his gear. “Let’s go home.”

The winter passed quickly without incident. Manny and I focused on both armed and unarmed combat as well as tactics and tracking. I spent much of my time outdoors: tracking and stalking predators, taking two more lion in the meantime. Manny redeemed them for me with the old man.

Mom, Judy, and Lindsey helped me develop my feminine skills and style and my girl lessons continued each Thursday night. I think the biggest takeaway was the bonding that took place among us: mom and me, and mom and Judy, and among the three of us. Lindsey and I continued to grow closer as BFF.

This was the hardest chapter to write but I hope you enjoy it. If you have any questions or comments I'll be glad to answer what I can.

Thanks

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 7 My thanks goes to William Durr for his all around help. I'm a grammar klutz. This is one of the shortest chapters and sets up the next chapter. Chapter 8 is a long chapter with lots of action but I'm not sure how long it will take me as my BIL passed yesterday morning so plans are on hold for a few days.

This Chapter includes Christmas giving and spring rites.

Chapter Seven
December opened with a snowstorm and for much of the month we were snowbound. Being homeschooled I kept up my schoolwork and studies with lessons from mom and other staff members.

Christmas was nice and cozy and I spent much of it baking and cooking, filling our little cottage with warm smells. Bells tinkled and candle light glowed softly throughout the house.

Manny who remained behind as part of the winter skeleton crew helped me cut down the tree and carry it in, and then I decorated it with garland, tinsel, and lights.

On Christmas, we exchanged presents. My immediate circle included mom, Judy, Lindsey, and her mother. Lindsey and I swapped presents. Hannah’s gift was her fruitcakes; made in the dark of night and behind locked doors. At least that was Lindsey’s story.

Much like Hanna’s fruitcakes, I wrapped a fantastic selection of southwestern style jewelry that I found in town. For mom in addition to the jewelry, I spent extra time and money on a gown, robe, and slippers.

Manny was naturally part of our inner circle too. He interacted regularly with both Judy and mom on the clinic and with mom and me. I bought him a hand tooled leather belt with a secret compartment in the buckle. And he gave me a pair of ornate bracers to protect my arms from the bowstring. Like everything else we did, those bracers served a secondary purpose.

In addition, mom got me a lot of clothes, shoes, make up, skin care potions and lotions. Mom, I believed wanted to experience buying for a daughter and just let her inner shopper loose. In spite of seemingly adjusting to female fashions, I was more comfortable in clothes that breathed and offered protection. Sometimes they fit current fashion trends but often they didn’t and left mom scratching her head in frustration. Since I was in the process of both developing my fashion style and what that term meant I was of little help in helping mom, help me.

I could just kill Lindsey; as a gag gift she got me a set of “barely-there-underwear” that she said I could use with my electronic friend. Payback is a bitch.

Manny remained on-site as part of the skeleton crew to provide security for the equipment left until needed in the spring. He spent the down time sourcing the supplies needed to finish out the construction.

As part of the upgrades primarily for the clinic and as added benefits for clients and staff Judy hired Manny to install a small computer network connect via satellite link. That ability to connect in real-time to area doctors, clinics, and hospitals to exchange diagnoses was paramount to receive matching funds for the clinic to be designated as a regional center.

Due to his Special Force experiences and schooling, he was able to set up a fast, secure, and redundant network that was connected via landline and satellite. For Judy internet service wasn’t a direct moneymaker but it was offset by enhanced amenities and the yearly stipend for the clinic.

Mom got me the latest laptop so that I could surf in style while keeping my schoolwork updated. Judy bought mom a new laptop for the clinic that was secure to meet HIPPA rules.

As the winter months marched on, Manny’s job as network administrator, clinic supervisor, and the head of his self-defense school of one, namely me; we saw more and more of him. Actually, mom was seeing more and more of him as I was already seeing him every day.

“Mom, this clinic thing must be really … really complicated.”

It was early April and the dry desert air heated quickly into the 80’s from lows that often dropped into the 20’s at night. We were walking over to the clinic building that Manny wanted mom’s input on. Soon there would be a full crew on site.

“Oh,” she replied, “Why do you say that, dear?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I hinted slyly, “ it just seems that a lot of corrections seem to pop up that takes both of you putting your heads together to solve. I’m beginning to think of you two as Frick and Frack,” I teased.

“Young lady,” she replied stopping and facing me, her hands on her hips, “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, Mom,” I replied calmer than I felt. The Young Lady tone felt exactly like the Young Man speech I had received numerous times in the past. “It is just Manny is a nice guy and …”

“And what,” she demanded sternly.

I gulped. It was time to bring out the heavy artillery. “Well you know I just got to thinking …”

“Thinking what? Yes, go on.”

Remembering the electronic device she had given me, I mumbled, “I was thinking that you have needs and that Manny is a nice guy.”

“So you thought I needed a man,” she finished for me gently wrapping her arms around me. “No baby, don’t cry,” she added sensing my response. “Hush it is all right.”

“I just wanted you to know that I’m fine if you know …”

“Go on a date with Manny,” she finished for me.

I nodded, my cheeks flaming.

“I never thought I’d be getting dating advice from my … daughter.”

“Mom,” I replied grinning feeling I was on safer ground, “I never thought I’d be giving dating advice as your daughter either.”

“Honey has it been that hard?”

“It sure has been different though; I never thought last year this time I would have celebrated my fourteenth birthday at the hairdressers and shopping.”

“Yes, but almost every Mother wants a daughter to do things with.”

My birthday was next week and mom had booked us for a full day spa treatment including a hairdresser appointment and clothes shopping. Dinner afterwards.

I sighed thinking of how simpler it was being Alan, “I do miss being Alan.”

Hooking her arm in mine we continued walking, “What do you miss most and what do you like most?” she queried.

“Umm, not bleeding; sharing and caring,” I quipped squeezing Mom’s arm, “Like having this little talk,” I replied giggling.

“And a philosopher too,” she replied all smiles.

Yeah, that!

We didn’t know it at the time but my life was about to take a dramatic turn two weeks later. Mom did dip her toes in the proverbial dating waters sort of. She asked Manny if he would like to go into the Big City with her to help with supplies and fixtures for the clinic.

He accepted.

I hope you enjoy this little short chapter. The next chapter is long and complicated and told from four viewpoints. With my situation I'm not sure when it will be ready it shouldn't be longer than a week. I'm working on the next book (at Whateley)( its 70 odd pages now) and with Bill's help polishing up this one. Jumping back and forth.

I'm glad that most of you seem to be enjoying this tale and if you have questions or comments I'll answer any I can.

Thanks

Katelyn

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 8. My thanks again for William Durr for all his help. This Chapter is long, probably a little too long, but there was no help for that. This chapter has some adventure in it. This chapter includes a pic of Atalanta as I see her.

Spring brings with it new life, change, and confusion. An opportunity for predators to feed on the young.

Atalanta's Story-Chapter 8

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What happened next may have resulted from not properly vetting new hires in the spring confusion of new hires; both construction hires and hires for seasonal staff.

That Friday dawned to beautiful clear skies that promised a warm spring day with a cheering breeze. Judy was on hand to see her Doctor and construction foreman off.

I was there to see my mom and my mentor off. They were staying overnight, in separate rooms, after securing supplies going to dinner and a movie.

“Have fun,” I said wrapping my arms around her neck and whispering, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Young Lady you be good while we’re gone and mind Judy.”

“Yes, Mom … you too,” I replied giggling.

I walked to the passenger side, “Take care of my mom,” I said leaning into his window as they were leaving.

I stared long and hard at the dust trail they left behind, “It’s hard sending them off into the world isn’t it,” Judy quipped, jabbing me in a rib with her finger.

“I guess,” I replied absentminded wondering what if anything I had set in motion.

“I’m responsible for you until your mother gets back from the Big City. You stay close today; no, don’t give me the ‘who me’ innocent look. I know you spend a big part of the day out in the hills. You understand me?”

“Yes mom.”

“And I want you to check in with me before dark.”

“Yes mom.”

“Atalanta it will be all right, Manny is a good guy.”

“I know.”

I wandered off, at loose ends with both mom and Manny gone. It was almost a year since my change and during all that time I had my days planned. At first, it was a crash course in all things feminine and immersed in girl culture for several months after the changeling event.

After the backyard barbecue incident on the dance floor, I had traded exclusive feminine soaking for the more virile approach to self-defense training from Manny. The result was that between both for the last ten months I had no time for self-reflection.

Liz, her stomach in knots, stared out the windshield at the road ahead. Her knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. She was second-guessing her decision to leave Atalanta at home. Okay what she was nervous about was asking Manny to go with her. His presence loomed large in her mind.

It had seemed like a lark when Atalanta had first suggested asking Manny to go with her to the Big City using a flimsy reason for an excuse. Reality had struck her hard that morning when he had shown up. Until this morning she had never seen Manny as anything more than Atalanta’s teacher. Certainly a man but her senses were screaming male and she felt trapped, trapped by the SUV’s interior but more from her own mental construct.

She felt his gaze on her.

“Nice weather.”

“Yes, it is.”

She pulled on to the two-lane blacktop leading to town and directly into the rising sun.

“Here,” he said handing her a pair of sunglasses, “this will help with the glare.”

Liz took it silently.

“Thanks.”

He leaned back against the door facing her, an amused smile lighting his eyes with impish delight.
“Relax and just think of me as your flunky if that helps you. We both have been locked down since last fall and I can use a change of scenery as I’m sure you can too.”

“You are right. This is the first time I’ve left Atalanta alone since we moved out here.”

“That girl can take care of herself. Look I know you are worried about her but half the boys guys in my old unit would have a hard time keeping up with her and they’re some of the best in the world. She’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“Maybe so,” She replied rueful her lips thinned in a tight smile, “but she and I both have had a hard year and half, with her losing her daddy and then moving out here. Making that change was my idea and I have to live with the results.”

“The results, Atalanta told me she wasn’t much of an athlete in Philly but I find that hard to believe. She’s the most natural gifted athlete that I’ve had the pleasure of training.”

“No, not those results other results.”

Liz got him talking about himself and changing the subject. He had grown up in the projects in LA and was heading for the courts and prison when one day he happened on a dojo run by a protégé of Bruce Lee. For a 14-year-old boy, martial arts were the means to stay out of gangs and trouble and a way out of the ghetto. At 18, he had joined the military and had spent the next 16 years in the Navy only separating from the service less than a year ago.

“I’ve spent 20 years training and wanted to try something else before I get too old,” he answered to her query of why he had left the military.

Shrugging he continued, “Then I met and started training your daughter.”

“You never got married?”

“Nope, no time and never in one place long enough.”

“No girls in uniform from one of the bases,” she smiled.

“Not really, our unit was secret stuff and I didn’t want to put a girl through that.”

Liz relaxed as they drove and soon they were on the outskirts of the Big City and her first stop.

This spring saw an influx of new hires, for the summer staff at the ranch and for the construction crew. It wasn’t surprising that I met new people as I wandered about.

The twins stood out animated and talkative, playing dress up as a doctor and nurse looking for patients. They were about seven years old, blonde and their cherubic faces masked if they were identical twins and their names, Julian and Julie didn’t help.

“Hi,” I greeted them, “my name is Atalanta, and my mom is the doctor here. Are you her helpers?”

Julie responded with her finger tapping her lips, “I’ll have to interview her first.”

“I’d introduce you,” I assured her promised, “but she’s not here right now.”

“O-kay, do you have a fever, a fever is bad. Can I check your temp-a-ture?”

I knelt and Julie pressed her hand to my forehead, “You don’t have a fe-ver, fe-ver is bad, mommy had a fe-ver before she went away to heaven.”

I gathered each child in an arm and whispered, “I’m so sorry babies. Where’s your daddy?”

Julian pointed to where a group of men was sorting machinery and supplies, “There.”

The men were too tightly bunched for me to pick an individual out but based on the children’s ages I ruled out several. Taking a hand of each child, I marched us over to the group.

The men continued to talk ignoring us.

“Excuse me.”

“These little dickens haven’t gotten into something have they,” said a man in his late 20’s striding over. He was gigantic and dark. Four or five inches over six feet and as wide as a door. Black hair almost blue and sun-darkened skin suggested the children got their fair looks from their mother. However, he had a huge smile as greeted us.

“You’re the children’s father?”

“Yes, and you are …?”

“Atalanta Reed, my mother’s the doctor here. And you are ...?”

“Julian Redmont and I see you’ve met my children. They didn’t get into something did they?”

“No, nothing like that, but it is not safe to leave children unsupervised. With the new construction going on, the hires for the new season, and strangers coming and going,” I explained.

“I’m just getting myself sorted out. I meant to ask Mr. Black about that but it plumb slipped my mind. My wife usually looks after them …” his voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry for your loss; she must have been very beautiful. Fever,” I asked.

He nodded.

I added, “Manny’s not here today. We have a voluntary daycare here, it’s over there,” I replied pointing to an area off the main house that doubled as our schoolhouse.
“If you don’t mind I can take and introduce the children to Mrs. Fairburn and let her know you’ll pick them up … by five.”

He nodded, “Thank you.”

After dropping the children off, I again wandered at loose ends finding myself at the barn. Shadows were just beginning to form inside the hallways as I stopped at the stall where Ready my favorite mount was housed. I scratched her ears while rubbing her muzzle absentmindedly staring into the ether.

At first, I didn’t see the two shadows but something warned me to slide into the stall beside Ready. I felt Ready’s shoulder muscles tense as two men drew closer and I gently soothed her while they glided noiselessly by the stall.

Outside it was still light but in here, it was just enough murkiness to cloud their features, although I knew they were men and wore dark clothing. Something felt off. It might have been the whispers or their furtive movements or something else.

I watched from the shadows as they went into the tack room where extra supplies were kept. Supplies that included those needed for extended camping as well as the saddles and gear. Minutes later, they walked back leading a gentle mustang saddled, with one of the men carrying a backpack and duffel bag.

Ready snorted which I felt like doing.

When I was certain they had cleared the barn, I began to follow the men after going into the tack room for supplies, getting my weapons stash, and then saddling Ready.

I had no clear idea of what I was doing nor why. I just knew I needed to act as an irresistible force was pulling me in its tow. Leading Ready outside I looked to the stars as if for inspiration and cursed myself for this foolish adventure.
Judy would be furious and I refused to think what mom would say. Still I swung on to the back of Ready with my face and lips taught. I idly watched what seemed to be a flurry of activity at the ranch house as a number of people scurried to and fro with lights bobbing and flashing at the shadows.

An innate force pointed me south.

It had been a pleasant day, even enjoyable once the ice had been broken. Liz had gotten all the supplies she had come for with a few extra stops in between for Manny’s wants. His stops were in small unmarked shops where he and the proprietor engaged in small whispered talk. She didn’t see what he purchased.

Later they were seated in a nice upscale restaurant near their motel with the waitress having just taken their order.

“I have enjoyed myself, today. Thank you.”

“Me too, just what the doctor ordered,.” Manny smiled.

The waitress returned pouring her a glass of wine and him a mug of beer. She felt content as she remembered other times of dinner with wine and beer. What was it with men and beer?

“MummMmmm,” she sighed around the wineglass, “I hadn’t realized how much I missed dinner out.”

He said nothing over his beer, his lips lightly coated with the foam.

She smiled at the image.

“So, what are your plans after you’re done at the ranch.”

He shrugged his shoulder slightly, “I’m not sure as I have a few years to decide if I want back in the service. I may take a few more gigs from Mr. Franklin (Manny worked for Franklin construction). I could open my own training school or a security service. To be honest I’m at loose ends with really no set direction at the moment.”

Seeing her frown, he added, “The Navy did all my thinking and it takes some time to get used to doing my own.”

Their food arrived at that moment leaving her comment unsaid. The food was delicious and they silently pitched into it.
Afterwards when the table was cleared and as each was partaking of their favorite liquids Manny asked, “Liz what do you see yourself doing? I mean are you retiring here … not that you are anywhere old enough to … or is this just a way station?”

“Judy’s an old friend; we met in college. I then went into the service to get my other four years paid for and met my future husband there. After I had Atalanta, I got out but Frank was career Army. We moved around a lot so I guess a lot depends on Atalanta and how well she copes out here.”

“I’m confused, that’s several times you’ve referred to a mysterious illness that she has and somehow you give the impression that you’re the cause. From what I’ve seen she’s as healthy as a horse, strong as an ox, and pretty as a picture.”

Liz hid her confusion coughing into her napkin.

“What in the world gave you that impression?”

Manny noticed she answered with a question. Both she and Atalanta were hiding something.

It could wait for another time. He changed the subject.

“You want to see a movie?”

“Why don’t you see what’s playing,” Liz suggested, “while I go freshen up.”

He rose as she did and followed her to retrieve a paper.

Later as they were standing in line outside a theatre a sudden knot in Liz’s stomach caused her to wince. Her pulse and heart quickened.

She stepped out of line to where the din of conversation lessened, “Something is not right. I need to call Judy.”

Manny frowned at the lengthening shadows wordlessly following her to a secluded place.

Retrieving her phone, she dialed Judy’s number that was sent to voice mail. “Judy, this is Liz call me!”
She tried Atalanta’s cell with the same results.

“What’s wrong?” Manny asked.

“I got a bad feeling like I have been punched in the gut and no answer from Judy or Atalanta.”

“I’ll try my guys,” Manny offered.
Manny received a reply on his second try, “What’s wrong?” he asked hearing shouting in the background. After listening, he mouthed to Liz “children missing,” “have you seen the girl … yeah that one. No? Okay, anything else.”

“Let me talk to him.”

He handed her the phone, “You know my daughter … yeah … okay … be sure and call us when you do.”

She handed the phone back, “Like she said call me the minute you know anything, no matter what time. Got it!”

Liz retrieved her keys, “What do we do now?”

Snatching her keys, he led her to the SUV and opened the passenger door, “For now we wait at the motel.”

“Okay,” she responded as he shut the door and she watched him cross in front to the left side of the vehicle, unlock and open the door, buckle himself in behind the wheel, and start the engine.

Her office door opened to admit Lindsey and Judy looked up from her ledgers with raised eyebrows.

“We have a problem.”

Judy closed the register, “Oh?,” she responded expecting a problem in the kitchen.

“Two children are missing.”

That was unexpected.

“Whose children and how long have they been missing,” Judy responded as she rose from behind her desk walking to the door.
“… and has the sheriff been notified?”

“Not yet, the kids are Julian and Julie Redmont, seven-year old twins. Their father is a widower and was just hired last evening on the construction crew. He went to pick them up from the daycare and they weren’t there. That was about an hour ago.”

“I assume we have people out looking for them.”

“Yes it is kind of haphazard though.”

Judy sighed under her breath and made a note to herself to form a security presence that would spearhead for search and rescue. I should have looked into it sooner after Alan got separated from his mother last spring she realized.

“Lindsey, find a bull horn or whatever we have that’ll serve that purpose and have everyone gathered by the playground in ten minutes. We need an organized search or we will just be running overtop of each other,” she directed as they strode down the hall towards the play area.

The children’s father was not hard to pick out; he stood a head taller than those surrounding him. He leaned forward in to the group with a set jaw and his eyes wide flashing fear.

“Mr. Redmont, I’m Judy Fairmont and I’m the owner here. We’ll find your children.”

He stopped pacing.

“Do your children play games like hide and seek? Could they be hiding?”

“Sure, they play games but they know to come when I call.”

“Do you have a recent picture?”

He nodded and reached into his back pocket and handed over a picture to her. Two beautiful angelic faces stared back at her causing her heart to catch. Seeing an aide, Judy sent her to her office to make enough copies of the photograph for everyone to have.

“When was the last time you saw your children Mr. Redmont?”

“Right after lunch about 1 or 2 o’clock I guess. I was with some of the guys sorting out stuff when this young girl-Atalanta-I think her name was, I don’t remember her last name, but I do recall that her momma is the doc here …-”

“… That would be Atalanta Reed, go on.”

“… Anyway she said there is a daycare here and she offered to take them over there.”

Turning to face the growing crowd, Judy called out, “Has anyone seen Atalanta?”

No one had.

She had promised Liz that Atalanta would be fine while she went to the Big City and had a little fun.

“Either of you seen Atalanta since 2 p.m.,” Judy asked both her aide and Lindsey. Neither girl had.

Banging on a metal drum for attention, Judy called out, “We have an emergency, two missing seven-year olds. Copies of their pictures are being passed around. We may also have another one missing, has anyone seen Atalanta?”

It was determined that she was last seen going towards the stables and after investigation her horse Ready and a mustang were missing along with extra supplies from the storage room. While not certain several people recalled seeing at least one stranger loitering about.

Judy put in a call to the sheriff. It would be midnight before a formal search was initiated.

She then noticed the call from Liz.

Oh. Shit!

Manny had ordered coffee from room service and they were seated in her room waiting for someone to call. Liz was seated on the chair at the desk where the phone was located; he was seated across the room at a round table supporting a lamp.

Manny had seen and experienced intuition or gut feelings in the field; most mission survivors had. But this was a first for him where the danger was not immediate and the place remote; there must be some truth to mothers’ intuition he decided.

“Why hasn’t Judy called me back?” Liz whined into the empty air.

At that moment the opening beat of the Ride of the Valkyries filled the room but suddenly stopped when Manny answered his cell phone, “Yes, what is going on out there?” he asked his foreman.

After a brief exchange, he hung up and explained to Liz what he had learned from the call.

“So basically nobody knows anything,” she summarized with a feverish laugh.

“Not true,” he countered, “two children are missing, presumably kidnapped. We can assume it wasn’t for ransom. Their father is a transient worker and makes good money but not enough to justify federal intervention. We know the sheriff has been notified and that the kidnappers have 5 or 6 hours head start. Atalanta may or may not be missing even if her horse is missing. We also know in the early hours there is a lot of confusion and misinformation …”

“… God,” Liz cried throwing up her hands, “that’s just what I said; we know nothing. I can’t stay here,; I’m going home. Tonight. Now! Are you coming?”

“… We also know why Judy hasn’t called you back.”

Packing her suitcase Liz paused, “I don’t care.”

“Look,” he replied calmly as he walked over to where she was folding her clothes and gently encouraging her to sit on the bed. “I’ve been through these types of scenarios before and first things first. You are right about not having enough information though and I have resources for that. Now while I’m making some calls I want you to call the front desk to see if they have any state road and topographical maps or see if they will send out for such a map. Can you do that?”

Liz nodded thankful for something to do and direction.

Manny made his calls while he carried her luggage to his room and packed his things. Together they rode the elevator to the lobby, checked out, and secured the maps.

Liz’s phone rang as she was fastening her seatbelt and Manny was turning the ignition on the vehicle.

“Judy, what in hell is going on?”

Manny with his eyes on the road asked when the call ended, “Anything new?”

“Some people think they saw one or two strangers but they are not sure with the recent hiring. They definitely had horses though; the people were sure about that. Since there are no new horses stabled and instead two mounts are missing, Atalanta’s horse Ready and a gentle little mustang, they are going on the assumption the children have been kidnapped. Atalanta may be out searching for the children on horseback or she may have been kidnapped too. She seems to have disappeared about the time the children did.”

Manny had his own ideas about Atalanta being kidnapped; he debated whether to tell her but decided in the end she needed to know.

“Liz-Liz, listen to me. Atalanta has not been kidnapped. You can be sure of that; I am.”

“How-how can you be so sure?”

“I trained her, I know what she is capable of and believe me if they had made the mistake of trying to take her, the perpetrators would be either in jail or the hospital.”

“She is not one of your-a- boys and she can’t do what she used to could; I mean a girl is not as strong as a boy. Those men could overpower her.”

Manny wondered at the strange reference but decided to file it with the other slips he had noticed.

“Liz, I don’t care if she used to be Genghis Khan. I’ve trained, and trained with hundreds of Seals in the last 16 years and Atalanta can whip most of them including Genghis Khan. She’ll be fine.”

Liz wasn’t so easily convinced, “But these men are thugs and used to violence.”

“And Atalanta isn’t?”

“Yes.”

“Trust me. She will respond as she has been trained. And she has been trained well,” he spoke with pride.

At that moment the Valkyrie Ride began playing, “What have you got?” He then received two more calls in quick succession. They were now at the midway point between the Big City and home. Manny pulled into the next rest stop.
There he quickly gathered the maps and beckoned Liz to follow him to the visitor center where he spread the maps on the table.

“Why don’t you get five bottles of water and candy bars while I mark out our route?”

Liz muttering under her breath complied and quickly returned her arms full. “What now oh master.”

He grinned at her sarcasm, “You need to use the bathroom?” She did she realized.

He stuffed the bounty into duffel bag that he always carried and when she returned said, “I called in some favors and we got a hit, here,” he pointed to a marked area on the map, “that maybe them and this is our route,” he continued pointing to a road he had highlighted.

She saw that the turnoff was not far ahead, “You think that the kidnappers are there and that Atalanta is somewhere close by.”

“I do.”

“Why don’t we call the sheriff and what if you are wrong?”

He knew he wasn’t, “Why don’t you call Judy and see if anything new has come up. If there is not anything new, tell her where we are and what we plan to do. We’ll cover more ground this way. While you’re doing that I’m going to the little boy’s room.”

“Okay.”

He returned with two coffees, handing her one as she ended her call, “Well?”

“You were right and Judy is overwhelmed. She has called the sheriff but it’ll be midnight before they can get organized on their end.”

He nodded, “That is what they count on; a couple of hours head start and then several more hours of confusion.”

“What did you do with the water and candy, and why did we need it?”

“The kids will probably be hungry,” he replied patting his his duffel bag.

“Oh.”

“How long until we get there,” she asked when they were back in the vehicle.

“About two hours,” he replied starting the engine and pulling out on to the interstate.

I silently cursed, forgetting both a light and my jacket. The dry high desert air lost heat quickly when the sun set. I leaned low on the animal’s back to cut the air around me and leech what heat I could from the horse.

It was too dark to track, even if I knew who or why I was tracking. I had just a feeling that those men were up to no good and quickly surmised that they headed in a southwest direction. I knew they had stolen a horse and supplies; I was determined to find out what else they were planning.

I didn’t like thieves.

I wasn’t far behind them and was careful to not become careless by hurrying as I assumed they would make camp sometime during the night. I should call Judy and let her know where I was. I’d catch hell if I didn’t.

That was when I discovered my third mistake; my cell phone didn’t have a signal, the battery was low and inadvertently the ringer was turned off. I swallowed hard at the missed calls from mom, Judy, Lindsey, and Manny.

Using the phone’s light I was puzzled that the first calls had been made a little before six p.m., well before I should have been missed. There had to be an extraordinary reason to call that early, then remembering the flurry of activity that I saw leaving the stables.

Not wishing to face what I was sure emotional pleas from the girls, I decided to listen to Manny’s message instead, “Atalanta you need to call your mother when you can she is worried about you. I’m not, I’ve got confidence in you kiddo. Two children were kidnapped from the playground today by two strangers on horseback. Unless I miss my guess, you are trailing them. I have an idea where they are heading and if my guess is right, your mother and I will probably meet up with you on your way back. Be careful.”

Damn and double damn.

I turned the power off to the cell phone opting to save the battery for when I got a signal to call out on. I now knew why I had so many calls and what the men in the stable were up to. I doubted they were after ransom as that left human trafficking or pedophiles as likely reasons. It was even more urgent that I catch up to them tonight.

The moon when it rose bathed the landscape in an eerily other world glow casting shadows into gulches and ravines. Weird shadows rose from rocks and trees; seemingly altering their shapes at will mocking me.

Nonetheless, I followed an innate guidance that led me into a blind box canyon that hid their fire until I stumbled almost on it.

I sent a silent prayer upwards that their horses were picketed at the back of the canyon where they didn’t pick up the scent of Ready or that her hooves hadn’t struck a rocky surface. I backed her up carefully to keep her from giving us away.

I halted Ready and tied her to a bush far enough away to keep her quiet, sensing there was no four-legged predators close. I then ghosted through the trees, bushes, and between the rocks until I was close enough to feel some heat from the fire.

From my vantage I saw the kids were in a sleeping bag, resting near where the horses were. One man was asleep between the kids and the fire. The other man was by the fire, standing guard. Or pretending to, he was bound to be night blind from the firelight.

I weighed my options.

I could simply pick them off, first the guard and then the sleeper. I discarded that idea quickly. That would be murder and I wasn’t a murderess. Murphy’s law was a bastard and the sleeper was near enough to use the children as hostages. I felt that in hand-to-hand I could quickly subdue them, but it held the same drawback as in the first option. I needed a plan that brought both them close together.

A sense of urgency struck me as a risky plan began to form. My mind made up, I silently glided back to where Ready was hitched. There I checked my phone for a signal. It was weak but I did have a signal and looking at the stars I realized I was close to the border. My stomach was doing back flops and my scalp and shoulders was tingling.

I dialed, “Manny,” I whispered to the scratchy hello.

“Yes, this Atalanta.”

“Yeah, Manny, the battery is weak. Just listen. I’ve found the kidnappers camp. I’m worried about the kids and reinforcements arriving. I have a plan.”

Silence greeted me and I was afraid I might have been disconnected, “Atalanta do you know your location?”

“Negative, but I’m close to the border.”

“Kiddo you can do this, remember what I taught you. Your mother and I will be there shortly. Be careful.”

“I will,” I said into a failed phone. I was glad the cavalry wasn’t far behind.

Shrugging, I began removing and hiding my guns and meager supplies under some bushes. I opted to carry the dead phone, reasoning it might offer both support that I was lost and a distraction. Determined I swung up on to the saddle to put my plan into motion.

“That was Atalanta, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you let me talk to her? Why did she call you and not me? I’m her mother. Is she all right and where is she?”

“You finished,” he asked quickly glancing at her.

“Yes, until I have more questions or some answers.”

“Yes that was Atalanta and her phone just died or I’m sure she would have asked for you. She called me because she knew I have been through these things before but she sounded fine and no, she doesn’t know exactly where she is. Except that it is close to the border. South and west of our location I think.”

“Are you sure?”

How can anyone be sure of anything? He ignored the queasiness passing it off as pre battle jitters, “As sure as if it was me there.”

“I wish it was you.”

Me too, “call Judy and give her these coordinates,” and he rattled of a set of numbers from his phone, “let her know what is happening and have somebody in the sheriff’s office guard the southwest border.”

As Liz dialed she cried, “Can’t you go any faster?”

“Not safely,” he answered, nevertheless pushing the accelerator harder.

“Hello, the camp. I am lost and cold,” I cried out in my best little girl voice stopping at the edge of the fire's light.

“Who are you?”

“I am lost and cold,” I repeated, “can’t I come and warm by the fire,” I whined. I sensed rather than heard movement from the camp.

“Yeah,” came back the reply, “but come in slow and easy and your hands in plain sight.”

“Okay, thanks mister.”

As I urged Ready forward a strong light blinded me momentarily and in that instant a pair of strong hands pulled me out of the saddle and I hit the ground hard on my side.

“What did you do that for mister?” I wailed sprawled out on the ground breathing hard.

Ignoring my question, he reached down to pull me to my feet. I resisted, instead going limp.

“Brat,” he spat. “Monty, get over here and let’s show this kid she needs to learn a hard lesson.”

“Sure,” he swaggered over, a nasty grin spread over his face, “it will be a pleasure.” A fleeting sense of fear was quickly replaced by anger that settled into an eerie calm as I grabbed his swinging booted foot and twisted, sending him into his partner. In the confusion, his pistol fell to the ground as he tumbled forward. I snatched it up with one hand and with my other hand made into a fist; I buried it into his crotch.

I regained my feet before the second man reacted moving in behind him as he fought to regain his balance. Catching his flailing hand and using his leverage I applied force to his wrist bending it back and forced him to the ground.
I picked up the second gun from where it fell and with a gun in each hand I stepped back,“On your feet,” I snarled.

“Fuck you,.”he sneered.

“Not now, not ever, and not even in your dreams,” I replied coolly.

“Make me.,” Monty blustered.

“Not a demanding job,” I returned contemptuous, “but I don’t have time to mess around with you boys. Either you do as I say when I say or I shoot you both in the knees and leave you out here. I’m sure your partners will patch you up.”

I saw their surprise, “We don’t have any partners,” Monty he of the swinging boot denied weakly. Before either reacted, I brought the gun barrel down on his collarbone hard.

“Oh-h,” he screamed going to one knee, “you broke it.”

“You rather it was your head. Now, saddle up the horses and be quick about it.” I watched eagle-eyed and wired, ready to spring at a second’s notice of trouble. The sense of urgency heightened.

“What did you use to drug them with,” I asked indicating the occupants in the motionless sleeping bag.

“A mild sedative, they should be coming to before long.” I had suspected as much.

Keeping the kidnappers in sight, I moved into the bushes and picked up 50 feet of nylon rope that I cached earlier.
Stepping back into the light of the fire, I removed the wicked tanto designed knife from its hidden location and cut the rope into the desired lengths. I saw their recognition of defeat. Tossing a section to Monty I indicated him to tie his partners hands in front, “And make it secure,” I warned.

After inspecting the knot, I indicated him on to the saddle. Tie his hands to the pommel.” Monty grumbled but complied. Throwing him another section, “Loop it around his boot,” I commanded and then after passing the rope under the horse had him tie it to his other boot.

“I’ll break my neck if I fall off,” the mounted man complained.

“Then don’t fall off.”

I had Monty use another length of rope to tie the horses together by their pommels. Another piece of roped was looped around his good hand and tied it on the off cinch buckle.

Some stray sound warned me. The two would-be bad guys hadn’t heard so I had a few minutes to prepare. I hid Ready behind a tree and noiselessly slipped up on my prisoners, “When your friends get here call them in and be damn careful about it. I’ll be watching.”

Seeing their goggle-eyed expression, I knew I had them convinced I had superpowers. Maybe I did.

I slipped deeper into the trees about thirty feet in front of the camp and waited. Less than five minutes later, the creak of saddle leather and muffled sounds of hoofs reached us. From where I was located, I could see clearly the look of surprise on my prisoners’ faces. With a wave of my guns, I indicated a warning.

“Hello, the camp.”

“Is that you Sarge?”

Sarge? Military? It didn’t matter. Focus!

“Who else would be out tonight?”

“Come on in then. We’ve already broke camp.”

“Getting cold feet,” the cold voice demanded as he and two other riders, in single fashion rode into the light thrown by the fire.

“You’re covered, anybody so much as twitches is dead before they hit the ground,” I drawled stepping from the shadows. “Lose the hardware quick but be slow about it.”

Sarge knew what I meant; I could see it in his eyes.

“Do as she says; we’ll have our chance later,” Sarge snarled. I heard three distinct thuds, one that landed suspiciously close to my feet.

I kept my focus.

I moved closer to Sarge, “One at a time, step down from the saddle and be deliberate about it starting with you,” I ordered pointing to the last member. One at a time, they complied.

“You let a slip of a girl get the drop on you,” Sarge snarled at ‘swinging boot’ pointing towards the pistols in my hands.

“It was easy,” I laughed, moving even as I spoke, and the point of my boot meeting his hamstring high up. Going down to one knee, he bit back a groan.

“You know why I did that?”

Sarge nodded, “Yeah it’ll tighten up my hamstring if I don’t keep moving. It seems we all underestimated you.”

“You did but I didn’t.” Removing my knife, I repeated the process I began with Monty and in five minutes the three men were hogtied to their saddles with the injured men, Sarge, walking on the point and Monty at drag of the procession.
The children were too groggy to ride unassisted so they rode on my horse in front of me where I could keep them safe. I sent Manny a text from a confiscated phone that the children were all right and I had prisoners and included the GPS coordinates.

Unwilling to leave my weapons and supplies I veered off and finding my cache I reached down from horseback to gather up my gear, tossing their weapons in favor of those I was familiar with and had holsters for.

I then quickly caught up the column with only Sarge being the wiser.

“Who taught you kid,” he asked with grudging admiration.

“You’ll meet him.”

The beep alerted Manny to an incoming text. He slowed while reading the message noting the coordinates. Grinning broadly, he handed the phone to Liz, “Here read it. Atalanta and the children are fine and she’s coming in with prisoners.”

“Thank you God for bringing my baby safe to me,” she breathed smiling her face wholly radiating.

“I need to hear her voice.”

“Don’t,” he warned sharply, and more gently continued, “You might distract her at a wrong moment. We are no more than ten minutes away from their location. Call Judy and forward her the coordinates. Tell her to have a helicopter dispatched. The kids might need more medical attention than we can provide out here.”

Programming the coordinates into the vehicle’s guidance system, Manny drove, his attention divided among the road, Atalanta, and Liz’s conversation with Judy. He almost missed the turnoff; what looked like an overgrown wagon trail that led them farther into the canyons and sharply etched gullies.

After ten minutes and only a couple of miles, the SUV’s headlights revealed a procession that Manny had not seen except in Hollywood. Plodding across the barren desert floor, he saw seven horses, four with riders; five tightly bunched, then a single rider with what looked like smaller forms in front and a single pony. He nodded with satisfaction at the two walkers on point and drag.

He stopped to marvel.

“Why are we stopping?”

“To appreciate second chances, and what your daughter has accomplished this night. Do you know why those kids were kidnapped?”

Liz shook her head not thinking that far ahead.

“They were going to be sold into sex slavery; used up or dead by the time they were teenagers. I know you believe in second chances or else you would not have sold out and moved here.”

Liz shivered at that realization. “You are right, I do.”

“Atalanta just gave those kids a second chance at a happy and fulfilled life and I want to take a moment and appreciate that gift. Who knows, those kids might be one reason you moved here. I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

The red numerals, suspended read 3:31 a.m. as Judy looked across the desk at Sheriff Beckham, “Any news Sheriff?”

Judy was tired, bone tired and blurry eyed weary. Running a profitable business needed someone to stay alert and anticipate. Her first concern was for the twins and her friend Liz and Atalanta but she did anticipate bad publicity might adversely affect her summer business. Many of her staff was like family and she didn’t want to have to lay off people.

The waiting was wearing on her frayed nerves as was the effects of the caffeine, but she needed the bracing coffee gave her.

She knew the first 24 hours was crucial in executing a safe return of missing children and so far they were not any closer than when the Sheriff was called. The 24 hours was quickly expiring.

The sheriff and his deputies spent two hours verifying the same data and interviewing the same people and came to the same conclusion as she had: Namely, two strangers on horseback had kidnapped the twins and possibly Atalanta. They had stolen a horse and supplies and left in who knew which direction. The crime could have happened between 3 and 5 p.m. In 12 hours the perpetrators could be almost anywhere in a 50-60 mile radius.

Nobody had a clear description of the strangers and if they passed the children off to another group then in all likelihood they would remain anonymous. At that point neither recovery of the children nor prosecution was likely. The criminals didn’t have a large population to hide in but the land could act effectively as a shield.

Bloodhounds had been brought in to track the children but so far they had not been able to hit consistently. The dog handlers surmised the wind was blowing the scent away from the dogs and possibly the theory that they were on horseback also masked their smell. The dogs and handlers were proceeding southwest on that theory. Until daylight, all they could do was wait and position assets.

Beckham shook his head, “I’m sorry Judy.”

Her phone rang, “Excuse me Sheriff. Yes. Liz, where are you. Yes. Just a moment.”

Finding a pencil, she quickly wrote a series of numbers and repeated them. “Got it. Thank God and yeah, I’ll tell him, he’s sitting across from me. And I want to talk to her too. Bye.”

“Good news sheriff that was Liz. She got a text from her daughter with her coordinates and that the children was safe and that she has captured the kidnappers. She said to bring a helicopter that the children might need medical attention.” She handed the note to the sheriff who immediately called and put a chopper in the air using the coordinates.

They were both smiling after he hung up the phone, “This is one story I have to hear.”

“Me too, it is hard to believe a 14-year-old girl could not only find the kids but get the drop on the two bad guys.”

I felt their presence before the headlights illuminated us. It might be a mother/daughter thing or heightened senses but I knew help had arrived before their lights came into view or heard the engine noise.

I had no desire to halt the caravan or hurry to the vehicle that held mom and Manny. At that moment, my focus was on the twins bundled in my arms and keeping the men occupied by moving. I didn’t dare think any farther than the next step of the horse-each foot of ground gained was a small victory.

The SUV stopped a hundred yards short of us and I felt a sense of pride that Manny was essentially letting me deliver the bad guys. I straightened in the saddle and kicked my horse to close the gap.

“Hurry up guys; we have a train to catch.” Bellyaching and moaning reached me on the wind and I smiled.

As we got closer, I saw two figures in front by the grill where the larger figure was encouraging the smaller silhouette to wait. I hoped she’d wait.

She did until we were about twenty yards away and I kicked my horse ahead to meet her and Manny.

“Manny will you take charge of these ‘outlaws’ while I get these little ones out of the cold.”

“With pleasure … soldier.”

I smiled back at him.

“Mom can you help me get them inside, they have been drugged. I’ll tell you all about it later. Okay?”

Together we managed to carry the twins into the safety of the truck where I resisted Mom’s efforts to stay inside.

From her viewpoint at the front of the SUV, it was hard not to run out to meet them but Liz saw that her daughter was fine. And she did feel a sense of pride swelling up as they drew closer, as Manny had predicted she would. He had also said that Atalanta would want to formally hand the prisoners off. She did feel some sense of the accomplishment what Atalanta had managed tonight.

As they drew closer, the headlights revealed five trussed up fugitives meekly complying with her daughter’s orders.
She heard Atalanta ask Manny to take charge of the outlaws and then ask her to help get the children out of the cold. Without being rude, Atalanta insisted on going back outside and tonight she had a commanding presence that Liz found hard to resist. Torn between two separate maternal instincts she followed Atalanta to where Manny was exchanging talk with one of the men.

“Sarge I’m not surprised to find you mixed up in shady deals; but this is low even for you.”

“Hawk, you train her?”

Manny nodded.

“Well this little hellion jumped me and my boys for no reason.”

“Took advantage of your generous nature did she?”

Sarge glowered silently, grimacing while shaking his leg.

“Charlie horse?” Manny inquired innocently.

“You taught her that little trick, and you know damn well it’s knotting up.”

“I do,” he laughed.

Liz clearly confused asked, “What trick?”

Manny answered, “A little known effect is enough force on a hamstring will cause it to tighten and knot up unless kept warm. The best way to keep it warm is exercise. Walking is good exercise.”

“Worked like a charm, while he was telling me what a bad man he was I kicked his rear.”

"-She created three groups each with conflicting concerns, Sarge at point wanted to keep his leg warm, Monty in the rear was protecting his shoulder and all the three riders wanted was neither to spook their horses. Beautiful," Manny beamed at Atalanta.

While she was mulling at the change in Atalanta, Liz heard a roar from overhead as the chopper arrived and landed stirring up dust devils. Minutes later the landscape was lighted as several sheriff vehicles descended.

The sky was just turning salmon when they got back into the truck following the sheriff dept vehicles out which included two-horse trailers. One set of investigators were assigned to backtrack to the camp and collect evidence.
Atalanta refused transport to the hospital opting to ride back with her mom and Manny. Shortly she was curled up in the back, asleep.

“What happened to my daughter tonight?”

“She grew up some.”

“You had a hand in this,” Liz accused.

“Some,” he admitted, “but it’s not all my doing. Something happened to her right after you all moved here. What the change was, it helped. I’m good at what I do, but that girl is one-in-a-million, make that one-in-ten-million.”

Liz remained silent as she debated how much to reveal. In the end, she decided on a partial telling, “You’re right something did happen but I can’t tell you what right now. When she wakes I’ll discuss it with her but I don’t think she will mind you knowing.”

Two days later, we had all gathered in Judy’s conference room. Mom, Manny, and I were seated together at one table alongside Judy and a Mr. Shark who was Judy’s lawyer. Julian Redmont and the twins completed the seated arrangements at our table. The experience had done nothing to curb the twin’s propensity to meet strangers.

The second table was occupied with the law enforcement contingent, Sheriff Beckham, the deputy that was here that night, and the lead investigator from the Sheriff’s office. Also present were three prosecutors, one each from the county, state, and federal district, two members from the FBI’s Internet Crime Task Force, a Captain in the State Police, and a court stenographer.

At the third table, I learned was the chopper pilot, a dog handler, the two drivers that hauled the horses back, two doctors that examined the children and the suspects.
Sheriff Beckham cleared his throat, “First this is like an informal judicial hearing and I’m the acting magistrate ; we’re here to determine facts and the exact charges filed. Doctors, why don’t we start with your reports and observations?”

Kim Cruz who had examined the children and me began, “The children had traces of narcotics left in their system when I saw them at 7 a.m. They were in fair condition, dehydrated, hungry, tired, and dirty. I kept them overnight for observation, but I believe overall they are in good health and spirits leaving minimal impact,” she finished smiling at the children who were engrossed in self-entertainment.

“I saw Atalanta Reed later the same day and she seemed none the worse after riding all night, rescuing the children and capturing the criminals.”

“Alleged criminals,” the words came from a man who had entered the room unnoticed.

“This is a private meaning and who are you?” The sheriff’s voice rang clear.

“Justin Case, defense attorney and I am the adversarial part of our justice system, to balance the scales of justice.”

Sheriff Beckham scowled and growled, “Sit down and shut up. I’m running this meeting; any follow-up questions will wait until we’ve completed the walkthrough.”

Case nodding, found an empty chair and moved it to our table. Papers rustled briefly as he opened his briefcase. I tensed, boring holes through him, if looks could kill.

Manny whispered words broke through the red haze, “Remember girl you kick tail.”

I then relaxed even smiling sweetly at the lawyer.

“Where did this take place?” Beckham was asking Dr Cruz.

“At the Pine Bluff Medical Center.”

“And how long have you been employed at that Center?”

“Five years.”

“Okay, thanks that is all for now.” Beckham turned to the other Doctor.

“Your name and where you are employed, how long and the conditions of said alleged criminals.”

“Dr. Horace Minnifield, I have been employed 10 years with the county clinic at Rockdale. Three people outside of minor bumps and bruises were fine. Two people were treated for more serious injuries but nothing that won’t completely heal given time.”

“What was the nature of these injuries doctor?”

“One has a broken collarbone and the other a distressed or pulled hamstring.”

“What in your expert opinion caused these injuries?”

“The broken collarbone was caused by a hard object of some kind-a club …”

“… And the second one?”

“The hamstring is harder to diagnose but bruising at the back of the leg indicates blunt force trauma.”

“Where was this bruising located, Dr.?”

“Immediately under his cheek.”

“That would be the butt cheek, wouldn’t it doctor.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“In other words, he had his rear end kicked.” That remark brought out smiles and one frown.

“That, in essence is correct what happened.”

The Sheriff proceeded to continue the interview and set up a timeline of events. The twins only knew two men had said they were to take them to their father.

Finally it was time for me tell my story to fill in the blanks.

“Atalanta, start wherever you want and tell your part in it.”

I started by telling that since I was at loose ends I had went to the stables to visit with Ready and how I hid in Ready’s stall and watched as the two men stole the horse and supplies. Then I waited, following them at a distance. I also told how I forgot to include a jacket or flashlight and didn’t think of using my cell phone until hours later when the battery was dying and no tower signal.

I told of my thought processes after almost accidentally riding into their camp and the capture of the alleged kidnappers.

The sheriff was interested in why I chose to return Manny’s call and not the others chiefly my mother’s calls.

“Sheriff to be honest I made some assumptions. I assumed the calls from Judy, mom, and Lindsey was because I forgot to check in. If I called them, understandably they would have a lot of questions that I was afraid my battery wouldn’t last that long. I wasn’t due to check with Manny so I figured his call was different. I chose the odd man.”

“To be fair he was the only man.”

“I’m also interested in why you took the actions you did after finding the camp.”

“After getting my heart out of my throat, I sneaked back into camp close enough to feel warmth from the fire. My first thought was an ambush but I discarded that for two reasons: The first being that shooting them from ambush would be murder and the second is that them being separated there was a chance of one getting to the children and holding them hostage. I felt my best chance was drawing them in together.”

“Thank you Atalanta, that is all from me. Anybody else have any?”

“I have one or two if I may,” Mr. Case spoke for the first time since his announcement at the door.

“Make it short and to the point, Mr. Case,” the sheriff growled in reply.

“Miss Reed you are what 14? Most 14 year olds recall and wits are not matured as well as yours seems to have. Frankly, Miss Reed I find your story hard to believe and it is your word against at least three of the men as what their intention were. I’d like to see a demonstration of your physical prowess before I consider your story true.”

“Quite frankly Mr. Lawyer, I don’t care what you believe, but I do understand when it comes to twelve all it takes is one to get these scumbags off. I have a counter offer subject to agreement.”

Mr. Case look of disdain was replaced by concern at my challenge.

“And Miss Reed what is your proposal,” he replied smoothly half-bowing.

“I think for a game to be interesting both sides should have some skin in the game. I don’t see what it’s costing you if you lose.”

“What is your proposal?”

“That’s up to the prosecutor.”

I was quickly corralled by the Sheriff and other LEOs as well my friends, family, and Manny as I outlined my plan.

“What were you thinking,” mom asked me evenly, followed by a chorus of agreement.

“Well let me ask you a question. Can a good lawyer cast doubt on my story by casting doubt on how I captured those crooks?”

The state’s attorney answered, “The answer is yes, he could, and it might mean anything from acquittal to a hung jury. At least for the last three it might, though we did find evidence in their vehicle that supports human trafficking.”

I explained my plan, and after pros and cons, I had enough support to offer Case the deal.

The Sheriff acted as our spokesman, “Mr Case you have doubts that Atalanta can do what she says she can do?”

“Yes I have my doubts about that and about what she was doing out there in the first place. I simply don’t believe she can overpower five men without help. If she is exaggerating those details the rest of her story is open to debate.”

“You look like you are in good shape and can take care of yourself.” Justin Case was in his early thirties and fit, he worked out three days a week and boxed some in college.

He smiled, “I stay in shape.”

“Here’s the deal,” the sheriff returned the lawyers smile, “Atalanta has offered to box you in an exhibition match. You win the charges are reduced to trespass and theft. You lose you plead your clients guilty of first degree kidnapping and human trafficking charges.”

The Sheriff's words hung sharpened by the sudden silence.

Case licked his lips, his eyes darting wildly about the room, “I’m sorry,” he replied quickly, “but I cannot place my clients lives in that type of jeporady.”

“I thought so,” the sheriff responded bluntly.

The DA indicated that first-degree charges of kidnapping with aggravating circumstances were being served that afternoon on the five men.

Manny and I exchanged concerned looks as we left the room in mass with him occupying mom and Judy while I drifted back. We filed down the hallway that forced walking two-by-two’s until Manny was at my shoulder.

“You thinking, what I think your thinking?”

I nodded, slowing my steps.

I sensed or felt the intent as I cleared the building. All the room’s occupants were milling about outside as we had straggled out, the last of the group. I was dead last while Manny shepherded the women out of harm’s way.

He came at me hard and fast from my left side which I side stepped and ducked under a wild right, countering the punch and adding to his momentum by a kick to his right side. His forward twisting movement placed me directly at his rear where my booted foot made contact with his rear. He sprawled hitting the dirt with a loud thud. He was agile and fast for a big man, twisting as he fell to land partially on one shoulder and quickly in one continuous motion, rising to his feet.

Anticipating his move, I followed still at his rear and another well-placed kick sent him to the dirt for the second time.

“Stay down mister,” I warned, “Or I’ll have to hurt you.”

Growling, from flat on his back he sprung to his feet, executing a perfect kip-up kipped up facing me.
That I did not expect. But I caught the back of his wrist in my right hand as he threw a right hook towards my jaw, and stepping into his body, I used my left hand as leverage to force his arm back and him to the ground. As we fell, I heard the pop of his shoulder dislocating it from its socket.

Using his arm as leverage I kept up the pressure and controlling his body, “Are we through,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “or do I have to really hurt you.”

“I’m done.”

“Good,” I declared untangling from his body and getting to my feet.

A dislocated shoulder is painful and was clear on his face when he straightened up to his full height.
Holding his right arm tight to his body with his left hand he apologized, “I deserved this.”

“Yes you do, Want me to pop it back in place.” I responded surprise at offering. Was that was me speaking?

“Sure, I appreciate it.”

“Let me,” Manny offered stepping forward. I nodded appreciatively as he popped it into place. The man experimented by rotating his shoulder slowly at first. Satisfied he stepped forward offering me his hand, “No hard feelings?”

“None that I won’t get over,” I declared taking his hand.

I had one loose end to wrap up.

I stalked over to where the lawyer, Justin Case, was watching and getting in his face I drawled, “You didn’t have the guts to take an aboveboard deal but you instead hire someone to ambush me. I ought to kick your tail right now.”

“Get off my property and don’t ever think about coming back. That goes for both of you. Sheriff I want a restraining order for him that keeps him from my property and me.”

Mom spoke then, “I want one too for me and my daughter.”

The sheriff his eyes leaping fire grimly stated, “I’ll even bring the papers out for you to sign. Hell, forget that, I’ll sign them myself. Now, both of you git!”

Looking around at the faces that surrounded me I saw both fear and respect reflected.

Later as we walked towards our cottage mom asked Manny, “You knew?”

“No,” he replied, “I suspected something based on experience but Atalanta knew. Mrs. Reed as I told you, she is special.”

“You knew,” she asked me.

I shrugged, “Yeah, I knew.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how I knew. I could have read it in his face or felt it in his aura or a little birdie could have told me. All that I do know is that, that knowing is as much a part of me as breathing is and we mostly don’t think about breathing. If the how you are asking is to describe a process then I can’t anymore than I can describe mechanics of respiration.”

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and spring into summer. The kidnapping never made any but the local papers and had no effect on bookings for the spa and dude ranch. Mr. Redmont and the twins stayed through the summer.

Something I should have pointed out earlier this story is copyrighted and I reserve all rights. I don't want it altered or reproduced somewhere without having control. That said I'm not hard to get along with. Also I took liberties with the sheriff's court as I don't believe you'll find many jurisdictions where this would occur.

I do appreciate you reading and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I'll answer any questions or comments that I can.

Thanks

Katelyn

Atalanta's Story Chapter 9. I apologize for taking longer than normal to get this chapter done. I have been feeling lazy this past week and found myself day dreaming alot. My thanks go out to William Durr who has really helped me stay on track.

This chapter occurs the summer immediately after the kidnapping in the desert of the last chapter.The end of summer brings on the beginnings of harvest.

Chapter Nine

The excitement of early April faded with time, and the fates of the men waiting trial grew distant. Manny spent more time at our house, more as a friend I think. He continued to train me adding more of his experiences to my routines.
Late summer saw the finish of the clinic and other improvements that Judy had implemented. That was both good and bad.

Mom had a state-of-the-art medical facility on a small scale. Some of the cost was paid by state funds and some from company grants. The monies did come with strings attached that necessitated hiring a physician assistant, a receptionist, and bookkeeper.

Manny’s crew had also added more lodging and a mini dorm to the campus. The stables had been enlarged with additional capacity to hold more horses and Judy had commissioned a larger garage to house the Ranch’s vehicles. Judy updated the facilities for the main draw, the mud baths. Following Manny’s recommendations, she had more outside lighting installed and permanent sheltered locations for the barbecue.

In late July, Manny had dismissed all but a skeleton crew and all that remained was tying up loose ends and landscaping duties that he could have delegated. His announcement came mid-week at our “hen parties” as he called them. Mom and Judy insisted on a get-together each Thursday with me to review what progress I made or plans I had finished.
The knock came as we were sitting at the table to review the week.

“Manny,” I shouted delightedly, “come on in. We are in the kitchen.”

“Kiddo,” he grinned at me, “I need to talk with you three ladies a moment.”

I led the way into the kitchen.

“Mom, Judy, look what the cat drug in.”

“Sit down, you want some coffee?”

“Coffee is fine or a beer is better if you have it.”

I handed Manny a beer.

He wasted little time,“I think the time has come for me to leave. A year is as long as I’ve been at one place in a very long time; the construction is finished and the last few weeks I’ve been doing make-work projects, so much that my boss is threatening to find another project leader. And I’m getting itchy feet to boot.”

Damn hormones, I thought as tears leaked from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Kiddo. I’m going to miss you too, but this is not goodbye forever.”

“Manny, the foreman job is still open. I do need someone with multiple skills such as you have to run the physical operations here. But I don’t really have to fill it until next spring.”

That was news to me that Judy had offered Manny a job.

“Judy, I really appreciate that and it is a very generous offer, but I left the military when I did to allow me time enough to re-up if I find civilian life is not for me. I won’t know that unless I try different things and in different places.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Liz, I’ll probably be leaving either Monday or Tuesday of next week. I knew you all would be here tonight so I wanted to tell you together and to ask you ladies to dinner Saturday night.”

“Sure, I know me and Atalanta can make it, what about you Judy. Are you free?”

“Gee, I wish I could but I do have something to do that day.”

Maybe it was time to spill the beans. I didn’t realize I had spoken out loud until I saw the surprised looks from mom and Judy.

“Are you sure sweetheart,” my mom asked.

“No, but I think it is time for Manny to know, anyway.”

“I’m all ears,” he declared grinning. He did have big ears.

“I’m sure you have caught the odd references and occasional slips in the last year,” my mom began the explanation at my nod, “and you’ve probably wondered at our Thursday meetings with Atalanta or that she seems uncomfortable with some things a girl her age should have mastered.”

Manny’s eyes lit up as his memories brought to the surface some of the odd references, “Yeah I remember and I remember you said it was up to Atalanta to reveal it.”

“We moved out here for a second chance. Mom wanted and needed a change after daddy passed away and as for me, I was just drifting like a leaf in the wind with no direction. Manny you remember I told you I wasn’t a good athlete before moving here. I don’t think you believed me.”

“It’s not that I didn’t believe you; it was that I don’t believe you knew how good an athlete you really were.”

We girls looked at each other all smiles.

“That is it, that’s the look I’ve seen before,” Manny declared, “like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

“It’ll make sense when you know the whole story, but believe me back in Philly she was a whole different person and she wasn’t a very good athlete,” Liz replied, still with an enigmatic smile.

“You all are just drawing this out, you’re just teasing me,” he accused.

“That is a woman’s prerogative,” I interjected with my own enigmatic smile.

“You’re well on your way, young lady but you are not a woman yet,” Manny returned smirking.

“I can tell you,” Liz replied laughing, “she is a lot farther along now than she was back in Philly.”

“A lot more,” I drawled.

“Okay ladies, quit teasing the poor man.”

“The truth is that when I left Philadelphia I had a son named Alan,” Liz replied bluntly.

“Okay. So something happened to Alan?”

Clearly, he had not connected the dots yet.

“Something definitely happened all right. Alan is now my daughter Atalanta.”

Silence filled the room after the spoken declaration. None of the females present had any traces of guile written in their faces. The humming of the refrigerator paused to hear the reply.

Manny’s time spent in the military was in black ops missions and as the leader of his unit he was privy to classified information, training, and schools. He also had close relations within the DOD and DARPA and had seen many raw field reports generated before they were sanitized and released to the press. He knew there was a growing concern about the mutant population inside some military circles and three letter agencies.

The government through discreet and not so discreet methods was cataloging and tracking mutants. The military, taking advantage of mutant interest highlighted their MMID system and its advantages to military families.

He was also aware that mutations left some common markers behind chief among them body changes. The latest mutant theory held that those changes occurred through an internal BIT or body image template. What that theory didn’t explain was why one mutation result GSD or gross structural deformity and others resulted in Exemplars or the beautiful people. Neither was there an explanation for why there were so many male to female changelings.

“I’ve heard of that happening but I’ve had no direct experience with it. I do know the DOD has contingencies guidelines in place. How did it happen?”

“We don’t know; none of us do. I got separated from mom while we were sightseeing on our first day here. I found a canyon, followed it to an old stone structure beside a waterfall, and went to sleep. It was dark when I woke up but somehow I found my way out to within a few hundred yards of where Judy had set up camp for a rescue party. Mom and Judy will have to fill you in on the rest as I was in and out of consciousness over the next two or three days.”

“My family settled and has owned land here for a hundred years and where Atalanta or Alan then, disappeared at and where the rescue party had camped is impossible to get to coming from the direction he came from.” Judy continued. “In other words it is impossible to get from where he/she disappeared at, to where he/she reappeared at.”

Liz added, “Judy and I both noticed subtle changes in him as soon as we got him in the car, changes that accelerated through the night. Daylight saw Judy and me taking him to the Big City where using my medical credentials we set up an ICU in a motel room near the medical center. He made it through but with the changes you see.”

“And that indirectly leads to building the new clinic here and to you,” Judy added. “I saw what Liz was able to accomplish in one night in a motel room and realized calling what we had at that time, a clinic was laughable. That night also drove home two points, first is that we were lucky that nobody needed anything other than first-aid and that Liz is a world class doctor and her talents would be wasted in a first-aid station.”

Manny, his hands clasped and forefingers steepled, measured his words, “That explains how I came to be here. And it helps clear up some odd statements from each of you over the last year. It also explains why,” he confronted me, “you absorbed what I taught so quickly while denying your obvious athletic background.”

He paused looking at his clasped hands before speaking evenly, “You all may have already discussed it but is Atalanta a mutant?”

A mutant? Of course I had heard of mutations. But what did he mean by mutant and was I a mutant? Apparently someone had asked that question.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard the term before,” Manny began. “Mutants have been around since at least WWII and maybe before, depending on whom you believe. Various laws, agencies, organizations, and movements have sprung up around mutant theory and most have their root in the 60’s and in part stemmed from Hitler’s occultist beliefs.”

Manny paused to drink from his beer before continuing, “Some organizations are neutral, others are beneficial, and a few like the MCO and the Goodkinds are predatory.”

“The MCO,” I asked.

“Mutant Commission Office a semi official quasi government office with a history of “losing” mutants in their custody. The Goodkinds are rumored to have conducted unauthorized and illegal experiments. They are also linked with Humanity First and Knights of Purity and both have dubious records in their dealings with mutants.”

“Why haven’t we heard of any of this until now?” Judy interrupted frowning.

“The government, agencies and all these organizations are good at misdirection and cover-ups for one thing. It is also in their best interests to keep a lid on where superheroes and villains originate. They concoct wild BS stories about UFO’s with little green Martians, the grays, Bigfoot, Yeti, and alien abductions resulting in human hybrids.”

“You mean there aren’t UFO’s and little green men,” I interrupted pouting.

“I didn’t say that kiddo,” Manny replied grinning, “what better way to hide a tree than in a forest. The government is very good at psychological manipulation and they have friends in the press and academia. Suggestions planted here, a word whispered there, and before long witnesses are reluctant to tell what they saw. The general population becomes conditioned to believe that all UFO stories are sensationalism even when they’re not. The press goes along with it because hype sells papers.”

“I’m confused,” I replied, my brows furrowing, “are UFO’s real or not.”

“Kiddo you haven’t been listening. People generally see what they want to see and unless you have personal experience with UFO’s and mutants, these types of stories fall below your radar.”

“But Liz, he added, “I’m surprised being in the military that you wouldn’t have had some kind of exposure.”

“Not that I remember,” Liz confessed and explained, “But after I had Alan-Atalanta we moved off base. Frank kept his service life separate from our family life.”

“But all that you need to remember is that mutant children of military parents can and should register with the DOD to get their MMID card.”

“MMID card,” Liz asked.

“Military Mutant Identification card, the military MID card exempts you or any mutant dependent child from any other registration requirements and shields you from most all attempts to restrict your freedoms. This is one case where the military takes care of its own.”

“You really think Atalanta is a mutant?”

“I can’t say for sure but when the mutant gene is activated it usually results in body changes and one of the more common changes is male to female. Other markers are Exemplar attributes that usually comes from body image template or BIT and can and often does result in different eye and hair color.

“Then I’m three for three.”

“Make that four for four.”

“Four for four,” I echoed.

"A fourth marker is gaining a talent or skill that you didn’t have which helps explain your progress in the last year. I’m a good teacher but not that good.”

Mom narrowed her gaze, “What do you suggest I do … and what talents?”

“Tracking for one thing and how quickly she learned forms, katas, and theory. What I’d suggest is to do your own research and come to your own decision. But,” Manny opened his wallet and handed us each a laminated card, “My Company’s number is on there as well as my private number, my CO and the name and number of a friend, should you ever need it. Call my old CO if you need any military assistance and mention Hawk.”

Manny left soon after but not until plans were confirmed for Saturday. Soon after Manny leaving, mom followed Judy outside leaving me alone to wonder what future Mutants have. Or what my future held if I was a mutant.

“Well that was a surprise,” mom said after coming back into the kitchen and sitting down.

“What, the dinner invitation or him leaving,” I asked in mock surprise.

“If you put it that way,” she smiled, “Manny was full of surprises this evening. But I was talking about the whole mutant thing. How do you feel about it dear?”

“How-do-I-feel-about-it? The whole sex change thing was odd to start and now finding that I might be a mutant which might be the cause of the whole sex change hasn’t made it any less odd. I was happy enough being a guy and I’m not unhappy as a girl, but I did feel a little creeped out by it when I thought on it so I didn’t think on it much. Besides, I was not given any time for reflection. But now I-we have to think on it.”

“In a way I wish he had kept his suspicions to himself or had told me privately.”

“Well I don’t,” I stated emphatically and continued explaining, “The question in the back of my mind all along has been; Why me? Who did I piss off? People don’t just spontaneously change their sex. I got a partial answer tonight. My mutation or being a mutant is the root cause of that change.”

“What is done is done, “Liz stated.

“What are you going to do, mama?”

“I’ll do like Manny suggested; do my research and then we’ll decide on our next step.”

“I will as well, just in case we decide to not do anything soon it will be helpful for me to know which traits they look for. The big one, the sex change, you have explained away as me being intersex.”

Mom had my birth certificate changed after moving to New Mexico to female citing intersex as the reason. She had done that before we ever heard of mutants except in the wild rants of late night TV show hosts.

“I think it is time to get ready for bed,” mom responded, “you have a big day tomorrow.”

Tomorrow wasn’t any different from any other Friday but I nodded anyway getting to my feet. Mom was tired of talking about the whole mutant thing. Walking over to where she sat I gave her a big hug before retiring to my boudoir (a name I would have never used in the old days) for my nightly ritual of cleansing, moisturizing, and 100 brush strokes.

I paused looking at the girl in the vanity with the hairbrush in hand and remembering a time when a quick trip to the bathroom was sufficient to be ready to slide under the covers. While the time taken wasn’t excessive it was the extra steps that required thought and as a result I was usually more deliberate and thoughtful now. Turning off the lights, I did marvel at the soft, cool, and silken sheets that I slept under contrasted sharply with the flannel nightshirt that I chose.

Friday passed uneventful except that Manny gave me a written guide to follow as he continued to drill into my head the importance of practice, practice, practice. Exasperated, I exclaimed, “Manny, relax will you? I promise to be a good girl and practice every day, just as if you were here standing over me with a whip in hand; threatening me.”

Manny grinned as he stopped to run his fingers through his hair, “Sorry for being so pushy today but I feel bad about leaving you just after finding out that you are most likely a mutant.”

“Why don’t you just stay then,” I interjected.

“I’d like to,” he admitted, “but Mr. Franklin has delayed the start of the LA project because of me. For me to bail on him now and this close to the deadline without a project manager wouldn’t be fair or right.”

Pouting I stuck out my tongue at him.

“Excited about tomorrow,” he queried.

“I guess so,” I answered softly.

“Cheer up,” he declared, “You don’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be around looking in on you kiddo. This gig in LA will be over at Christmas and I’ll see you then.”

“And mom, too?”

“Both of you,” he agreed.

“But Saturday just brings Tuesday that much closer.”

Tuesday came quick and dawned bright and clear. Not a cloud on the horizon and the overnight chill rapidly dissipating, the sun peered over the mountains; it’s purple tendrils quickly absorbing the night air.

Manny was standing outside the driver’s door, letting the engine warm while he looked at the campus that he had helped shape. He had already said goodbye to Judy. He leaned into mom and gave her a kiss on the cheek whispering in her ear before turning to me.

“Kiddo, I really am going to miss you.”

“Then don’t go Manny,” I cried.

“I made a promise to myself when I left the military. What kind of person would I be if I break my promises?”

“You’d be an all right kind of person as long as you didn’t break any to me.”

“That, I can promise.”

“Good,” I stated, “then make me a promise.”

“What do you want me to promise?”

“No, first you have to trust me and then the promise.”

He looked at me intently, probing. An understanding and respect passed between us.

“Okay we are bros under the skin. Well sort of bros. You’ve earned it. I promise,” he replied grinning broadly.

“Now,” I mocked my eyes dancing, “what heinous crimes do I need from my slave. Bw-aha-aha.”

“I’ll crush you like a bug,” he replied digging his fingers into a certain place on my ribs.

“I give-I give,” I giggled squirming away. “Seriously though, promise me you’ll come by and let us know what you decide.”

“That I can do,” he declared holding up his first two fingers together in a mini-salute.

“Not good enough,” I declared stepping forward offering a curled last finger, “Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear,” he echoed hooking his little finger in mine. I quickly responded by hugging him with a hearty thump to his back.

He reacted, dropping to a knee amidst a round of rough coughing, “Uncle-uncle.”

“Get up you big faker.”

Complying, he answered, “Joking aside, I’ve got your back; you need me you call me and I’ll drop what I’m doing to be there. The same goes for you two ladies. You’re like my family now,” his eyes seemed to linger on my mom.

Was she blushing?

My mind traveled back to Saturday and the trip into the Big City and seeing the sites with two of the most important people in my life. We really did have a good time for different reasons.
The dinner was at an upscale restaurant and the food and drink was delicious. My juice was cold and refreshing and judging from the empty wine bottle, the wine must have been as well. Afterwards we saw an action/kung-fu flick that I spent much of critiquing Hollywood’s version of combat. Not out loud though.

In the theater I watched amused as at first their hands touched, and later holding hands before his arm wrapped around her shoulders which she leaned into. I was unknowingly sulking and mom pointed it out to me in the bathroom.

After the movie we went back to the hotel where they left me in my and mom’s room to go dancing.

“Clubbing,” I teased pouting.

Sometime during that night I dreamed I was awoken by a shadowy figure slipping in from the adjoining room. Was it a dream?

“We’ll remember,” mom promised Manny as he opened the door on his truck to get in the driver’s seat, “and you remember you are always welcome.”

“I’ll remember,” Manny promised closing the driver door,” and as he put the truck into gear added, “that is good to know,” We stood there watching it disappear slowly into the morning sun.

“Nice guy,” Judy noted.

“More than that,” I offered.
“Much more,” Mom hooked her arm around my waist, “We’ve got things to do.”

Judy nodded and turned to her house while mom dragged me behind her to the clinic. She wanted my company.
I leaned into her and whispered teasing, “What did Manny say to you?”

I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I realize it is taking some time to get to Whateley.I hope to post a chapter each week, about mid-week but I lagged behind on this installment. I'm writing the second book while I am posting chapters here and it is this second book that is causing my day dreaming. Because I dream the chapters and then write it out without an outline or character list and I need to do this far enough in advance to reconcile any errors. That is one area where Bill has really helped me.

As usual I'll answer any comments or questions you have and thank you for reading.

Katie

Atalanta's Story Chapter 10. This chapter has been difficult, it is longer than I wanted but it can't be helped. I want to thank Bill for all his help with his suggestions, comments, and corrections. This is my 2nd attempt to post this chapter after four (now) hours adding in an extra line after each paragraph this morning.

In the chapter our heroine finds that she doesn't like public schools (what teenager does), faces danger but does not escape unscathed and in the process her mutant identity is revealed.

Chapter Ten

The lurching starts and stops, the groaning, protesting gears combined to make both conversation and riding difficult. I was into my second month riding the school bus twice a day, to the local high school and back home. Two hours a day, an hour each way was wasted on the bus ride to and from school. Another hour was spent walking the mile to the state road where we waited for the bus each morning and walking home each evening.

Many of the lessons and classes were boring, repetitious, and tedious. Taken with the extra travel time the hours wasted each day added up to more than the previous year’s home school day had. The decision to attend the public school was looking worse each day and particularly so in light of decreased time I spent running each morning.

None of us attending high school from the spa was happy with the arrangements. We agreed to protest en mass today, we being Lindsey, Lindsey’s boyfriend George, and me.

Mom thought I needed last year to get used to being a girl but she thought I needed this year for the social experience of mixing with other teens in a structured environment. My interests though ran in different circles.

“Mom,” I called as I entered the front door, “I’m home.”

“I’m in the kitchen dear.”

I placed my book bag, another annoyance, on the table, “Mom we need to talk …”

Later, after venting and still seated at the kitchen table mom summed up my feelings accurately, “You don’t like school, it is boring, and you don’t learn enough. That about cover it?”

I nodded, “Yeah that sums it up pretty well.”

“Honey those are feelings all school age children have.”

“I know mom but I guess last year spoiled me and the two hour ride doesn’t help my mood any.”

“Atalanta we have to be careful until I know where we stand on the mutant thing.”

“Mom I think you are over reacting to the whole mutant liability issue. As a doctor you have stated that I was born with traits of both sexes and that the onset of puberty caused me to develop as female.”

“That is true but the paperwork was rushed through and I’d like to double check it first before we draw attention to you.”

“Attention,” I replied confused, “what attention?”

“Some jurisdictions,” mom replied, “are suspicious of homeschoolers.”

“Suspicious! Why?”

“I blame it somewhat on the 24 hour news cycle, the war on terror, or the war on drugs, or any other war on anything you care to name. People and actions get defined and labeled and anyone that falls outside certain guidelines, like homeschooling, is looked at with skepticism.”

Mom was being paranoid about the whole mutant thing I decided.

“I know mom, but with the three of us withdrawing there is not anything that points to me or us directly.”

“That’s true,” mom conceded laughing, “But they may think Judy is starting a cult out here. But I’ll talk with the other mothers though I believe you will have to wait until after the Christmas break before we can move on it.”

“I thought as much but the homeschool application need to be submitted a month before then.” I cautioned.

The next hour passed with not much being settled or any deadlines established. I reached the conclusion that I needed to ask at school for that application or that deadline might come and go forgotten. Mom was reluctant to shine any type of spotlight on us.

“I’m going up to make friends with Ready, by now she has probably forgotten me,” I pointed out pouting.

“Don’t be long dear, you know I worry if you’re out after dark.”

“I know, mom. I won’t be.”

That was another pet peeve of mine and a strike again girlhood; people treated me like I was a piece of china and might break. Alan hadn’t had free reign to do as he pleased but he did have more choices it seemed to me. Maybe it was just that time of the month and my hormones were acting up.

Carrying my backpack to my room, I exchanged my jacket for a hardier version and left, calling out goodbye as I did.
Contrary to the spiel I fed mom, Ready greeted me excitedly, “You can’t fool me you faker,” I told the mare, “It is the treat you remember, not me.”

Tossing her head she agreed as I fed her a lump anyway and filled her feedbox and water trough. Finishing I slipped away to a secluded portion of the addition where I checked the supply cache. It was as I or rather we had left it.
I felt better knowing it was intact.

Closing the door to the kitchen complex I saw that Lindsey was in a corner busy with preparations for the evening meal.
“Hi Lindsey.”

“Hi, yourself,” she replied not looking up intent on her food arrangement.

“You talk with your mom,” I asked.

She stopped, turning on her heel, “A little but I didn’t have a chance to say much. Not enough time to really dig into it. And that is another gripe; the time we waste going to and fro is time I can better spend here.”

Lindsey’s desire was to be a world-class chef and follow in her mom’s footsteps. Schoolwork as designed by the state was cutting into that time. I felt the same way about my training schedule. George, I think was happy to be where Lindsey was.

“I talked with mom but I think it will take more talking but I’ve got to go; she will have a fit if I’m late.”

Another two weeks had passed without a commitment from any of the parental units. Somehow, I was going to have a light a fire under mom.

It was now early November and the chilly nights had turned into cold ones with the chill lasting throughout the day. The thickening and darkening clouds banking against the mountain ridges called out a long forgotten warning. A sudden blast of wind caused chills to run my spine.

I shivered.

Suddenly wary I rushed up the porch steps with the stray thought it wasn’t very lady like or dignified.
Who cared?

Opening the door I called, “Mom I’m home.” No answer. That wasn’t odd in itself. Mom kept all hours at the clinic but the house felt empty. The house felt off. I felt off and didn’t know why. I carried my backpack and tossed it on my bed.

Warning bells rang. Loud!

Throwing caution aside I ran from room to room and finding nobody or nothing disturbed.

“Calm down,” I scolded myself, “Mom is probably over at the clinic.”

Picking up the phone I dialed the clinic’s number and receiving no answer. Next I tried Judy’s number.
“Hello.”

“Judy, have you seen my mom?”

“Hello Atalanta and how was school today.”

“Same as always bo-ring,” I snapped and repeated, “Have you seen mom.”

“Are you home?” God what was it with twenty questions today.

I answered impatiently, “Yes, I’m at home. Have you seen my mom?”

“She’s probably at the clinic,” Judy offered.

Pausing I began deep breathing to calm my jangled nerves and impatience.
“I tried calling but no one answered.”

“Relax dear, she was probably in the back and couldn’t get to it in time.”

“You’re no doubt right but Aunt Judy can you please answer one simple question for me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

You haven’t so far I growled silently.

“When was the last time you saw Liz Reed, my mother.”

“It was after lunch sometime. I think her assistant called her with an emergency of some kind.”

“Thanks Aunt Judy,” I replied hanging up the phone cutting off any reply from her.

Finding the clinic locked and dark I fished out a set of duplicate keys and let myself in. I stood in the center of the darkened lobby willing myself to learn anything of value from my surroundings.

Slowly I moved, eyes unblinking, arms down, trance like down the hall to the supply room where I again used my keys to open that door. Unwilling to break the tenuous connection I left the light off, surveying the room and its contents. The refrigerator drew my attention and held it.

Looking inside the medicines seemed to be in their normal places on the shelves. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t trust what saw at face value.

Dig deeper!

Looking blankly at the refrigerator’s lined interior I suddenly remembered Mom’s log. I retrieved it from a drawer and praying that I’d find an answer opened it. Again I just stared blankly at its contents hoping for inspiration to strike once more.

Then I remembered Mom’s warning. Emboldened I switched on the lights and quickly found the inventory document and using it and her logbook began to write down the discrepancies that I found. My innate sense of direction once again proved its worth as it led me to look for a particular pattern. Finding that pattern sent a chill down my spine.

Striding down the hall I opened Mom’s office and rifled through her files until I found Margaret Hanson’s phone number. She was Mom’s gopher assistant and I quickly dialed her number and asking her to call the clinic when she didn’t answer.

I then dialed Judy’s number and when she answered, “Judy this is Atalanta and I need to see you in Mom’s office. Now!” And I hung up before she could question my authority.

I didn’t think the wait would be long and it wasn’t. She didn’t storm in but it was close.

“Mom is in serious trouble. I think she has been kidnapped to treat a gunshot,” I stated flatly before she could scold me.

Judy’s mouth hung opened in surprise, her crafted rebuke at my insolence forgotten.

“What makes you think that?”

“This does,” I replied tersely handing her the paper I had written the list on.

“That is a list of meds and supplies missing from inventory and not on her logbook,” I continued answering her unspoken query.

“Margaret Hanson doesn’t answer her phone either. Didn’t you say she called with an emergency earlier?”

“Yes she did. Have you tried her cell phone?”

“Whose phone, Mom’s or Margaret’s?”

“Your mom’s.”

“I didn’t think to,” I replied sheepishly.

Judy pulled out her phone and was dialing when I shouted, “No, don’t call her. Not yet. Let’s consider it for a minute first.”

Judy frowned but ended the call, “What’s on your mind?”

“Okay,” I began slowly buying time as I sorted out my ramblings, “If-mom-has-been-kidnapped-then they might not know she has a phone. A call might alert them but what about a text instead.”

“Great idea, you do that and I’ll call the sheriff.”

I texted, Liz U all right? Missed U. Call me. A&J. Crossing my fingers I pressed send.

Judy was speaking, “The sheriff is sending a car over to Margaret Hanson’s place to look around. He will authorize a triangulation on her cell phone provided it is on. But he can’t without evidence issue a missing person report until 24 hours has passed or conduct a search for Liz.”

Another idea forced itself into my consciousness, “Judy can you call the sheriff back and ask if there has been any robberies, shootings, knifings, jailbreaks reported today or last night in the area.”

“Sure, but why?”

“Based on the missing supplies I’m guessing the emergency is trauma from either a gunshot or a knife wound. Apparently they can’t go to a hospital so that leaves crime as the cause of the injury and it might just show up in the LE database.”

“Okay lock up and we’ll walk over to your house to check it again and I’ll call on the way over.”

Judy’s phone rang as she was about to call: it was the sheriff calling back. Listening to the one-sided conversation I gleaned enough to speculate that Margaret Hansen was not at home.

We hurried to the cottage and once inside did another search that turned up nothing.

“Her car is here and she’s not here or at the clinic and has left no messages for either of us,” Judy mused aloud.
We were seated in the kitchen at the table waiting for the sheriff to call back. I was staring at the ceiling fingers laced behind my neck.

“Your hunch seems to be proving out but what made you think she had been kidnapped.”

“I can’t say if anything triggered it. I just knew the moment I walked into the house something was wrong. I just followed that knowing wherever it led. That’s it in a nutshell. No logical reason at all.”

At that moment the phone rang but it was the landline. I noted the number and that it was a mobile number. Quickly I reached for the phone lifting the receiver off its cradle, “Hello.”

“Mom,” I cried, “is that you?”

“It’s me baby, hush and listen. I have to be quick. I’m treating an emergency patient tonight and I can’t leave until in the morning. You go and stay with Judy tonight and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Judy will look after you and you be a good girl for her okay and remember baby I love you.”

“I love you too mom,” I returned as the phone went dead.

“Mom,” I cried into the useless device.

“Was that Liz?”

I nodded numbly replaying the conversation. Was it my imagination or had she stressed the word can’t? The last sentence had felt too final. I felt the chills again.

“It was mom but something wasn’t right.”

“Another feeling of yours?”

“Yes but I have some facts this time to back it up. She called from a mobile number but it’s not hers. She couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me who she was treating or where. And she told me to be a good girl for you.”

Judy sensed my turmoil and rose to hug me tightly, “It will be all right, I promise. Too bad you didn’t get the number.”

Squirming out from her arms I grinned, “Who says I didn’t,” I replied retrieving pen and paper writing down the number. “I seemed to have developed a photographic memory and I also left the phone off the hook too if that helps to trace it any.”

The sheriff took that moment to call Judy back. Listening again to another one-sided conversation I learned that the tower signal showed that Liz was traveling north. The time was 2:16 and a little over 4 hours ago.

Only one event fit our profile, a jailbreak or rather a road-gang breakout. Five men had overpowered the guards rescuing one prisoner with one rescuer being shot in the attempt. But that was two counties to the east and they were last seen heading south where law enforcement was focusing their efforts with obligatory notices going out to the surrounding counties. The least likely direction was this far west and north.

Judy relayed to the sheriff that Liz had called and the number she used.

“Can I talk to him,” I asked.

Judy handed me the phone, “Sheriff Beckham this is Atalanta Reed, how soon can you have a location for the last call?”

“About ten minutes and we should know something. Atalanta there is not much more we can do until the 24 hours are up and strictly speaking the last call should start the time all over. But I’m not going to do that. Tonight I’ll inform the sheriffs and police north of here to be on the lookout for possible escapees and that they might have two women hostages. By tomorrow morning if you haven’t heard anything I’ll issue a full-blown alert. But if they are going north they are heading into a full blown snowstorm.”

“Thanks sheriff.”

A few minutes later the sheriff called back that the last signal was also north and seemed to be online to Colorado or Utah but that its location was out of his jurisdiction. He had informed that county’s sheriff of the possible convicts and hostages but wasn’t hopeful as he had no vehicle description or a confirmed sighting.

I stared glumly at the four kitchen walls.

“He’s doing all he can.”

I bit back the quick retort. “Thanks Judy but we both know he is half-ass in it.” I knew I was being unfair to the sheriff but my instincts were screaming at me. I had to do something.

“You need something to eat,” Judy replied shifting the subject.

“I do need to eat something but not right now. What I need now is some peace and quiet and time to think and then food.”

“Okay I need to take care of a few things and eat dinner too but you’d better be over there at the house no later than nine o`clock.”

“I’ll be there then.”

“Oh, and I want your promise that you won’t do anything foolish.”

“I promise that I won’t do anything foolish but you’ll be the first to know if I do,” I replied grinning and mentally crossing my fingers.

She seemed to buy it, “Remember nine o`clock and honey your mom will be fine.”

After she left I retrieved the road map from our car and printed out several types of maps from the computer and after that placing my phone on charge. By nine, I had laid out heavier clothes and boots on my bed and rummaged what supplies I needed from the pantry and closets.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I drew vectors to their last known positions and plotted intercepting vectors across the country. The state road they were likely taking outlined an inverted “C”, all I need do was connect the ends. A hundred road miles was reduced by half by traveling as the crow flies doing this. From doing Google searches, I learned and marked landmarks, mines, and shacks along the way. The TV weather reports helped me determine snowfall amounts and road conditions in the direction I felt they were going.

When nine o’clock chimed in the kitchen I left walking to the main house with those variables continuing to swirl about as they were being processed, distilled, and sorted. The night air seemed unnaturally still and quiet as the temperature continued to drop.

Halfway across the yard on hearing a call I looked about finally seeing a great owl perched on the eaves. As I looked up at him, he turned his head and looked directly at me and in that brief moment some knowledge passed between us. The owl took wing and flew off into the clouds leaving silence in its wake.

Climbing the steps to the porch my boots clop clopping on the wooden planking I opened the door that led to the kitchen area and not the dining room to began heating leftovers. In a few minutes I was joined by Lindsey and her mother at the table.

“Judy told us what happened. Is there anything we can do?”

“Not really,” I replied, “Except to pray.”

Feigning hunger, I kept one eye on my plate and the other on the room while I slyly made mental notes. Judy came as I was doing so carrying a cup of chocolate with her.

“Here,” she said holding the cup out, “Every girl likes chocolate and this is what the doctor ordered for a cold night like this.” Some words stood out in my mind even if they hadn’t in the speaking and rang a warning bell. Similar to the uneasiness I had received arriving home earlier I decided something felt off. But for mom’s sake I couldn’t let on.
Taking the cup from her I set it on the kitchen counter, “Thanks Aunt Judy. I guess it is the nervousness but I need to go first.”

“Drink it before it gets cold.”

“I won’t be but a minute,” I assured her.

Making sure my footsteps sounded just as if I was going to the bathroom I slipped back and hid just outside the door to eavesdrop, “… just a mild sedative it will help her sleep. Make sure she drinks it okay.”

My hunch was right I thought as I quietly slipped away and returning minutes later. Judy had already left, leaving Lindsey and her mom to see that I drank the chocolate. I picked up the cup smiling at them over the top of the cup, brought it to my lips, and drinking from it. Satisfied that I wasn’t suspicious and or not thirsty the older woman left the room, leaving Lindsey and me alone. After making sure Hannah wasn’t returning I bent over the sink and spat out a wad of chocolate soaked tissue into the drain.

“What is that?”

“A wad of toilet paper,” I declared before asking. “Have you got any more cocoa?” When she just stood looking at me I asked again, “Please Lindsey get me some cocoa.”

As she was bringing me the cocoa, I rinsed out the cup in the sink and after heating water made another cup of chocolate. Filling the cup I held it out between us and lifted the cup draining it in two large gulps.

“Now you can tell your mom you saw me drink the whole cup.”

“I get you,” she giggled with me, “but why. You are not going to do something crazy are you?”

I parried her question, “I don’t like being drugged for one thing and besides I want to be awake and alert at first light when the sheriff calls.”

“Cool.”

We hugged and I quietly left the kitchen.

Back at home I quickly slipped out the back and hurried to the stables where I saddled and fed Ready and a packhorse. While they were eating I gathered camping supplies from the tack room and then opened the secret weapons cache Manny had built into the addition.

I led the horses, tied them out of sight in the bushes behind my house, and slipped inside where I began to systematically turn off the lights.

I settled in the darkened house to wait. As I did I reviewed the plan and actions I was going to take that night. Judy was going to be pissed at me I knew that. That couldn’t be helped. I again went over my preparations and assumptions looking for any holes that I could fill.

I had enough food packed to last two people three days and the same amount of grain for the horses. On the packhorse I had filled a five gallon bladder with water though I was sure, if the weather people were right, I could melt enough snow to last. I had stashed several large tarps and ropes as well on that horse and a comprehensive medical kit. I had also filled a duffel bag with an extra change of clothing for mom and me and the other toiletries we might need. The extra horse was probably loaded with 150 pounds of gear while I had filled Ready’s saddlebags with similar but smaller amounts.

From the shadows I kept watch on the darkened yard from behind the curtains on my bedroom window when a few minutes past 11, a dark figure floated across from the main house. Sighing, I quickly slipped away from the window and under the covers pretending to be asleep when the shadowy figure moments later walked into the house and down the hall before then looking into my bedroom. Seemingly satisfied that I was sleeping, the intruder turned around and walked down the hall and back to the main house.

I lay quietly under the covers until I was assured she wouldn’t return tonight. I hastily dressed in the leather duster and boots Manny had bought for me as a going away gift. The girl in the mirror was sufficiently badass to look at home in a grim reaper movie or the matrix. I smiled at the thought and whispered, “You go girl.”

Leaving by the back door and after I had gathered the extra gear from the house I needed, I walked to where I had left the horses tied. I secured the extra pack to the little mustang and untying their reins walked the horses a safe distance before mounting. Seated on Ready’s back I saw the owl perched on a high limb in front of me. Once again we locked gazes before he flew off the perch and to the north. I followed at a slower pace.

The snow began falling lightly a flake or two and then flurries first but by daylight the air was heavy with large flakes and quickly accumulating on the cold ground. My map showed that I was nearing where mom had called last evening.
Throughout the night I followed the owl catching glimpses but at daylight he seemed to have disappeared. Stopping and searching out the area I located an overhang large enough to shelter the horses and myself.

Using a tarp I quickly erected a make shift shelter for the animals and me and built a fire. Melting snow, I fed and watered my horses and then ate a hot breakfast. Pulling out a sheaf of papers and several maps and with the help of my compass I made mental notes of the most likely places to hole up and comparing them to my present location.
Once finished and leaned against the rocky bank I dug out my cell phone.

“Hello,” the sleepy voice at the other end of the call answered.

“Judy this is Atalanta.”

“Atalanta, what time is it?”

“A little after seven.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

“Why not, I haven’t been to bed yet,” I replied cheerfully.

The rustling at the other end told me Judy was now wide-awake.

“Where are you? You promised me not to do anything foolish.”

“Technically, I told you I’d call you first and I have. I’m about 30-35 miles north in the mountains and I intend to find mom. You can let the sheriff know where I am and what I’m doing. I’ll leave my phone on and check in about every four hours but don’t call me.”

“Atalanta is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

Shaking my head, “Nothing, besides its too late now,” I admitted.

“Relax Aunt Judy. I’ll be fine. Right now I’m under an overhang having a hot chocolate after a hot breakfast. The horses are warm and comfortable and I’ll be ready to travel when my guide shows up.”

“Guide, what are you blabbering about?”

“A spirit guide, an owl.”

Judy understood what a spirit guide was from her Native America heritage and its meaning. “Okay,” she sighed, but be careful.”

“I will,” I replied hanging up having spied my owl on a rock 30 yards away.

“Give me a couple of minutes,” I called out. He seemed to understand tilting his head in my direction.

By mid afternoon, we were struggling in two feet of snow with Ready bucking mightily through it gaining a few feet at a time. If the snow wasn’t dry and fluffy or had it melted and then froze or blown into snowdrifts then I was stranded in the wilderness. And it was only a matter of time before one or more scenarios happened.

My owl was still showing up teasing me before flying off into the snow. Just before noon he had turned northwest and then due east and then north again.

I was utterly and completely lost. Funny I didn’t feel any panic. Maybe it was the seemingly unbroken sea of white that blanketed everything wrapping myself in its warmth. Lulled into a sense of peace; maybe I should just rest.

The owl’s screech together with Ready tossing her head jarred me back to reality. Shaking my head and dismounting, I leaned against the horse and mumbled, “What have I let myself in for?” Looking up and taking the reins I began plodding through the snow, taking one step then two steps forward. Time dragged as much as I did into the waning hours of daylight. My owl continued its taunts.

This part of New Mexico or was it Colorado or even Utah was crisscrossed with gulley, ditches and depressions that held winter snows and formed runoffs for the spring melting to accumulate and provide avenues for summer storms to flow through. Strange monuments and weird carvings often resulted from the water’s force. Ahead was just such a place where the snow and rushing water had carved an enclave from the rocks resulting in a large overhang that had carried away the earth beneath and offered shelter from the storm. That action had also deposited a fair amount of debris including fuel for a fire along the banks as well.

Working quickly I soon had a makeshift shelter set up for the animals and myself. Nearby, I collected a large amount of seasoned and rotting firewood and soon a good hot fire. It was cozy there with the ground bare and the snow reflecting the heat inside. The weather cooperated blowing the smoke back along my trail and out of my shelter. While supper was cooking I fed and watered the horses. Even Harvard flew in and found a perch to light on. Yes I named the owl Harvard. I figured the school Harvard was smart like my owl.

Harvard flew from his perch to land on the woodpile and began scratching and clawing at the pieces. The horses watched contentedly and I watched both between spoonfuls of stew and sipping hot coffee and leaving Harvard to his foraging.
Now what? I wondered aloud after eating and scrubbing my cooking utensils with harvested snow.

Harvard screeched loudly as if to answer and flew out into the falling snow that had slowed considerably with darkness falling.

Should I follow?

In a few minutes he was back, calling out impatiently.

“You want me to follow you?”

Harvard cocked his head as if to say, “Are you crazy? I can’t talk.”

“What about sign language then?” That bird looked me squarely in my eyes and nodded.

“Okay,” I grumbled, “Give a minute and keep your shirt on.” I giggled at the inane reference and rose wrapping my long coat tighter, and decided the horses would remain in place until I returned. Banking the fire and securing my rifle, I walked into the cold night following a bird.

After an hour and two hundred yards of trudging through waist deep snow where Harvard was barely visible at times in the haze, I stumbled on to another break in the landscape, a break that Harvard had already claimed and was pensively studying me with his large golden eyes.

“Is this it?” I asked.

Harvard screeched in reply.

I was on a rise at the head of a small valley and using my binoculars examined the panorama in front of me. Sweeping the valley laid out before me I almost missed it. Tucked into the corner nearest me and half hidden by boulders was a house.

Concentrating, I swept the area again finally seeing several lights that twinkled out of the darkness at me. Sweeping the area again I saw the outlines of several buildings that flanked the homestead. One I was sure was a barn with a connecting shed with what I was sure was a tractor or truck parked in its opening. Adjusting the binoculars I inspected the area for the third time, finally seeing the ash of chimney smoke against the white blanket of snow. The humidity quickly pushed the plume of smoke down hovering just above the rooftop. Parked in front of the house were several more vehicles.

This wasn’t an abandoned homestead or mine but a real working ranch with people inside. The question though was, was there crooks inside too? And by extension was my mom there? I had to know and needed a closer look.

First I needed a plan and a germ of an idea formed that I began to refine until I was satisfied that it could still be used even if something unexpected happened. But I needed Judy’s help.

Excited I dug out my phone giving a fist pump when I saw I had a signal.

“Judy,” I asked when the call was picked up, “This is Atalanta. I’ve found them.”

“Atalanta, where are you and you found who? Your mom?”

“I don’t know exactly where I am at but I guess it is western Colorado about 100 to 120 miles by the road, 40 to 50 miles, or half that as the crow flies from where you are at. I am watching an isolated working ranch that’s snowed in. There are people inside and no evidence that anyone has been outside today.”

“If you don’t know where you are at how did you come up with those numbers?”

“Guesswork,” I answered, “They traveled by the state road and you know how crooked it is. You travel two miles on it to go one mile and I have ridden Ready more than 40 or 50 miles in 12 hours before.” I knew the miles were as accurate as we had been absent from the ranch for closer to 18 hours. I allowed for slower progress through the deeper snow that day and that we had stopped twice.

“Okay but you haven’t talked with anyone or seen who is inside.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Then how can you be sure you have the right place or people.”

“The same way I knew how to find those kidnappers. I just know.”

“Okay let’s say you’re right. What are you planning to do?”

“I’ve got a plan forming but I need your help.”

“What can I do from here?”

“Call the sheriff and let him know I’ve called and to triangulate my position. That should help narrow it down to western Colorado or even Utah and my description of this place should narrow that even farther. I take it the crooks have not been caught.”

“I’ve been so worried about you and Liz, not about those criminals but the sheriff hasn’t told me anything about them. I do know he’d like to take you out behind the woodshed and tan your hide. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that action myself.”

A pang of guilt stabbed me.

“I’m sorry Judy but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Tell the sheriff," I continued, "to contact Colorado authorities and tell them I’ll leave my phone on to find us.”

“You stay right where you are and be safe.”

“Don’t worry Judy. I am safe where I am at out of the snow and bundled up tight against the cold and I’ve got a fire going to boot. If I had only thought to bring marshmallows and a cute guy I’d be tempted to turn my cell off.”

The laugh from Judy reassured me the white lie was worth it.

Leaning against the rock I considered what to do next. The horses would be fine where they were at until daylight and I doubted they’d stray from shelter. The fire should burn and smolder providing both heat and protection from the elements and any predators. The slackening snow necessitated that the next phase be executed quickly.

My mind made up, I pushed away from the rock and approached the house from the north, the opposite direction I had traveled from. Using the buildings and terrain as cover I safely sneaked up to the house. From there I circled the perimeter being extra careful looking in at the doors and windows.

The windows on what I assumed were the bedrooms were closed and darkened leaving me to guess who and how many people they held.

Thank god kitchen window curtains weren’t really designed with privacy in mind because using some caution I sneaked up to the kitchen window to look inside and see three females. One was Margaret, mom’s erstwhile assistant, while the other two were unmistakably mother and daughter. Seeing Margaret confirmed for me that I had located the fugitives.
Sliding quietly under the kitchen window sill I carefully approached the next eyelet and closer to the front of the house. The curtains were drawn but I was able to peer inside between the drapery folds. Seated on a couch in a far corner of the living room sat the father and his son and the younger daughter who was about eight years old. Three hard-bitten men silently kept watch from their vantage; one seated in a straight back chair facing the father and his two children. A second man seated cattycornered, beside the front door in an upholstered chair, while a third was seated between the threshold of the kitchen and living room. From there he watched both kitchen and the front room.

Crouching with my back to the outside wall, I expelled a pent-up breath and considered what I knew and what I guessed. Three men had helped three men escape from a road crew and one had been shot in the escape. That was six men and then somehow they had convinced Margaret to trick mom into helping their escape, so that was eight people that had shown here yesterday afternoon.

Based on the dimensions and the house layout, what I could see from the kitchen and front room windows, there were three bedrooms and a bath which meant that most likely the family that lived here consisted of three children and their parents.

Eight people on the run and the five that lived here for a total of thirteen, nine was accounted for that left three men, one that was wounded and my mom missing.

Two thugs were undoubtedly sleeping in two of the bedrooms while the wounded man was in the third bedroom and mom was with that man caring for his medical needs.

One of the bedrooms opened off the kitchen and I assumed was probably the master bedroom. The second bedroom if the window locations were any indications was larger than the third and likely held two beds and for the girls with the other smaller room being the boy’s. It was impossible to say who was in which room but my intuition was telling me though that mom and her patient was in the room with two beds.

My innate sixth sense decided that the girl’s room was the middle and I moved as quietly as possible to see inside past the drawn curtains. I was able to tell a nightlight was on which help support my theory that it was the girl’s room.

Standing to one side, I used my knife to test the window. I held my breath as I felt it move. Scant seconds later the curtains parted with my mom’s face looking out. I almost screamed partly in relief mostly in surprise. She didn’t see me as I was in the dark and tight against the wall.

Now the problem was how to let her know I was here and not freak her out doing it. Watching the curtains fall into place an idea surfaced. Quickly moving before I changed my mind, I used my knife blade to slowly work the window higher.

When I was satisfied with its height I then listened closely with all my senses tuning into the rhythms of the room. Only then did I begin whispering her name, Liz … Liz … Liz in time with that cadence.

After what seemed an eternity the whooshing sounds of shoes on carpet reached my ears. Mom was coming to investigate either the draft or the whispers. Shielding my face with my hat I waited. I heard her mumble something about the window.

Screwing up my courage I whispered louder, “Liz.” In the stillness it sounded like I was beating a bass drum. I heard the curtains rustle as they opened, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

“Liz,” I repeated with my face still in the shadows. The window opened higher.

“Who are you and what are you doing here and why?”

“Before I tell you, you have to promise me that you will not freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?”

“Promise first.”

“I promise.”

“Remember you promised,” I replied more calmly than I felt tipping my hat back with both the white of the snow and the subdued inside lighting bathing my face in relief.

Mom to her credit stifled her scream but she hissed through clinched teeth, “Atalanta, what are you doing here, and why aren’t you in bed?”

Her maternal instincts were on high alert.

“Mom,” I whined channeling my inner child, “You didn’t think I was going to let you go gallivanting around the country without me, did you?”

“What are you doing out there?”

Sighing I took a firmer tone, “Hush and listen to me. Okay?”

When she had hushed I added, “I’ve alerted the local authorities and they have fixed our location with my cell phone and they will be here shortly. I’m going to stand guard outside in the meantime.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No, this coat is really warm and I’ve got horses for company and Harvard.”

“Harvard. And just who is Harvard?”

“Mom Harvard is not somebody, he is my pet owl.”

“Since when do you have an owl?”

“Since last evening when he showed up as I was leaving and I followed him here. And mom, I’m camped about three hundred yards away in a natural depression. It’s a natural shelter; scooped out by the weather, it has a roof and protection from the snow. It’s nice and warm and cozy in there especially with the horses in there. I’ve got a fire that I started with all the driftwood that’s lying around I’ve done eat a hot supper. I just wanted make sure you was all right and let you know help is on its way.”

“I suppose, but I still don’t like it.”

“Here,” I said handing her an extra cell phone, “my number is programmed in and it is on silent mode. If I need to get in touch I’ll call. Okay?”

Just then my phone buzzed, “I got to go,” I added holding up my phone as I slipped away to answer. I was probably going to hear about getting the last word in when this was over.

“Hello,” I whispered.

“Is this Atalanta Reed?”

“Yes it is.”

“This is Sheriff Fife. We are having some difficulty pinpointing your exact location. The snow is causing the tower signals to echo and bounce about. The closest we can place you is probably within 5 miles. In the dark and in this snow we may stumble around you or into you and we don’t want that if we can help it. Do you have any more information about your location?”

“Sheriff, I’m not from here and I have traveled almost 24 hours in a blinding snowstorm. So I have no idea where I am at and I haven’t seen any landmarks at all and for all I know I could be standing on one right now and not know it.”

“I’m sorry but unless you have something else for us to go on we are going to hunker down for the night and wait until daylight.”

A germ of an idea formed, “Sheriff, if I can supply you the name of the people that live here would that help?”

“Hell yes, can you do that?”

“I think so let me check and I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Thirty minutes later after again circling the house and recording the car license plates I dialed Sheriff Fife back and asked, “You got a pen and paper handy.”

“Shoot.”

I rattled off a series of letters and numbers, “That is the license plate numbers of every vehicle here.”

“I’ll run these numbers and call you back.”

I retraced my steps to where I had first spotted the homestead, on a rise at the head of the valley. The place offered protection from the wind and snow where I could observe the house. The drawback was that building a fire here might give away my position and it was smaller than the place where my horses were picketed. My cell phone buzzed again it was the sheriff calling back.

The Beans was a family of five and with that name they now had a layout of the land and where we were located. What they did not have was a floor plan of the house. I told him I could supply that information. After I described my present position and where my main camp was we agreed to meet there in about two hours and plan out the next step. That camp was about three hundred yards away from the house and we felt confident that we wouldn’t give away our location.

The sheriff informed me the numbers of one plate belonged to a family in my county who had not reported it as stolen but Sheriff Fife was calling my sheriff to verify. That could prove to be the vehicle the miscreants had used to drive here.

Retracing my path proved easier than breaking the trail had been and I soon had a lively fire going and hot coffee on when the posse arrived. They brought their own supplies and horses and we soon had my little camp expanded enough to house a dozen men, horses and supplies.

We had all hunkered down around the fire while the sheriff made the introductions. I did get a few strange looks from some of the men.

“I don’t know how you found this shelter, or for that matter I don’t know what in hell kept you from getting lost to start with in this snowstorm. But come to think about it I don’t know how you tracked your mama here either,” the sheriff grumbled and added, “but I’m glad you found these buzzards.”

“I could tell you sheriff how but I’m not sure that will be any easier to believe.”

“We got a few minutes, try me.”

After I finished my tale the sheriff was shaking his head and I was getting a few open mouth expressions especially after I told them about Harvard.

“Where’s this bird at now,” an anonymous voice accused.

I shrugged, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since I located the house.”

“Let me get this straight, this owl conveniently shows up as you are leaving, guides you here, and then disappears.” The sheriff asked in his best interview manner.

I nodded.
“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well Sheriff, you tell it then,” I replied calmly. Color rose in his cheeks but any reply was cut short.

“You spend a lot of time in the wilderness?” This came from an older man.

“Before we moved here 18 months ago I was an Army brat and city girl.”

He chuckled shaking his head, “Beats all.”

“Can you use those,” The sheriff asked indicating the pistols on my waist and the rifle leaning against my gear.
“Yes I can.”

“You ever kill anything with them?”

“Just some lions, coyotes, wolves, and the occasional bear but I usually prefer my bow. It gives them a sporting chance,” I grinned pushing his buttons. I noticed his color rise again.

That same old man snapped his fingers, “You’re that bounty hunter, aren’t you.”

Blushing, I busied stoking the fire.

“Bounty hunter,” another man asked the older and whiskered guy.

“Yeah, sheepherders pay a bounty on predators and I heard about this girl who was a whiz at it from some friends of mine down south. I just figured it was a tall tale until now. You’re her, aren’t you?”

I nodded having already let the cat out of the bag by admitting to tracking and killing the predators, “But I didn’t think my identity got around. I had someone else collect the bounty for me. I didn’t want or need the notoriety.”

That same old man snapped his fingers again. I was beginning to really dislike that old man.

“You’re that same gal what tracked and captured those kidnappers.” He went to tell the story and it grew with his retelling. “… Rescued the seven-year old twins, captured and hogtied the bandits all by her lonesome. Hell Sheriff,” he turned to Fife, “you don’t even need a posse when you got Wonder Woman here.”

That comment could be taken badly but when good-natured ribbing followed I found myself grinning at the back and forth banter that followed. That ritual proved to be the means that allowed me to be accepted as an equal in the posse with even the sheriff giving his taciturn agreement.

“Settle down guys,” the sheriff interrupted exerting control, “this is serious business and it is time to move out.” As an afterthought he added, “I just wish we had a way to contact someone inside.”

Seeing the look on my face he growled, “What else haven’t you told me?” More grins from the posse followed.

Blushing again, I replied, “Well Sheriff, as it happens I did talk with my mother and gave her an extra cell phone I just happened to have brought with me.”

He stood slack-jawed and flabbergasted before exclaiming, “I am recruiting you to supervise my next posse, and you seemed to have thought of everything.”

“Not quite,” I returned, “this ground is cold. I wish I had thought of camp chairs.”

He started to grin until he saw that I was serious and instead growled, “Let’s go.” There were some good-natured grins aimed at his back as we broke camp.

After an hour of plodding through the waist deep snow the sheriff had his men in place around the house. He had a man watching each bedroom window at the back and another man watching the kitchen. There were six of us including me covering the front of the house. Sheriff Fife left a man to watch the camp and another at the head of the valley as a lookout. He wanted me to “man” the latter and out of harm’s way but as I pointed out; I knew the layout and I had the inside “man”. He reluctantly agreed.

“See if you can raise your mom.”

“What’s your plan, Sheriff,” I asked.

“It depends on what your mom tells us.”

I dialed but mom didn’t answer but a few minutes later she called me back from the bathroom. From her, we found out the guards had been changed with three men sleeping and two were keeping watch.

“Mom, how long can you stay in the bathroom and not be missed?” The seeds of an idea sprouted.

“Five or ten minutes, I guess.”

“Okay, don’t come out until you have to but don’t stay in there long enough to raise a ruckus either, and mom whatever happens don’t let on that you know me. If you do you’ll blow my cover. And don’t worry it will be over soon. I love you”

“I love you too.”

Sheriff Fife groused at me, “This seems to be your show, tell me what devious plan you came up with and we’ll see if it makes sense.”

I knew he wouldn’t like it and I was right. He didn’t. I didn’t like it either but the plan did made sense to me. In the end he agreed to it although he listed the reasons why it was bad.

“You’re a civilian, underage, and a girl.”

“Don’t you have junior g-men in your department, Sheriff?” I teased.

“Yeppers, but they’re not armed.”

“No problem, Sheriff,” I replied handing him my weapons, “If I need a weapon I’ll borrow one inside. But there is nothing I can do about being a girl.”

“In this case being a girl is an asset, I’d say. A man will be less threatened by a girl and remember she did capture those bandits.” That came from the same whiskered old man that seemed to know a lot about me who had spoken up before.

It was a simple plan. Like in the desert, I was portraying a little girl lost and asking for help. Again I was counting on the men seeing me as a helpless little girl and underestimate me.

The sheriff nodded, “Git going before I come to my senses.”

Trudging across the pristine landscape and pushing against the incessant wall of snow, I carefully watched the house for any sign of discovery. I was not purposefully being quiet but the soft blanket of snow absorbed the sounds of my labored breathing and falling down.

Climbing the porch steps I called out, “Help, hello the house. I’m lost and cold, Help.” I cried pounding on the door.
The door suddenly swung open revealing a middle-aged pock faced black haired man with dark cold eyes holding a semi automatic pistol tight against his body. In that sliver of time as certain as a photograph, I catalogued the interior.
The husband, with his children was on the couch in the same position as I saw earlier. Mom to my relief wasn’t in sight. Through the open arch leading to the kitchen I saw one female. To my right was the second guard, now alert and standing, looking behind me at the dark landscape. I didn’t see Margaret and surmised she probably was in one of the bedrooms.

Playing the part of a frightened schoolgirl I sobbed, “I thought I was going to die out there. Nothing but snow everywhere I looked and then I saw your light. Can’t I come in mister I’m cold and tired.”

“Sure let her in Floyd,” the guard on my right replied, cocky, stepping forward, grinning assuredly, “she’s just a kid and besides you’re letting the cold in,” In a flash I saw that he fancied himself a ladies’ man and cocksure.

Perfect.

I pretended to trip on the threshold and reaching forward latched onto his outstretched hand and using his momentum and my falling weight to jerk him into his partner. Using the slapping technique Manny taught me, together with my cold hands I rapped quickly on the back of his gun hand causing it to relax and open momentarily. As I continued my body roll between the men, my left hand caught the pistol mid air and in one motion rolled to my feet facing them as they untangled. Still moving and before either man could react I stepped forward and snatched the second man’s gun from his waist.

They turned as one facing me but stopping short seeing their pistols in each of my hands.

“How?”

“Magic,” I smiled as I signaled the sheriff and moments later the front room was filled with deputies who quickly handcuffed and gagged the prisoners.

“I think one room has Margaret Hanson in it and another has the wounded man.” I reminded the sheriff.

I was left in the living room to guard the prisoners while the rest of the posse went to wake up the other criminals. Mom had come into the room as the men were being handcuffed, “Atalanta what are you doing,” she asked seeing the pistols I held.

“Mom,” I groused, “please, not now, later okay.”

She nodded, folding her arms under her breasts clearly perturbed at being denied her maternal birthright. I saw some grins flash from the sheriff and a few of his deputies before they quietly and quickly left to round up the bad guys, which didn’t take long.

The outlaws had expected that any trouble would come from within the house and not from outside. Who in their right mind would be outside in this type of weather? Not one of them expected an alert this far west or north. The guards were to keep the family subdued and not against outside discovery.

After securing the fugitives on the couch and calling in reinforcements one of the men asked, “How did you find us? We left a false trail to the south and I didn’t think anyone would be out in this snow.”

“You have her to thank or I guess in your case, curse for that bit of luck,” the sheriff answered pointing at me and amused at their bewilderment.

“Why,” one of the men asked me accusingly.

“You made a big mistake when you kidnapped my mom,” I returned and then laughed, “I knew the second I walked into our house something wasn’t right. It was easy following you guys here,” I grinned rubbing salt in their wounded egos.

I turned to mom and continued, “When you weren’t at the clinic I used the inventory charts and your log to determine what was missing and likely reasons. Judy supplied the rest telling me that Margaret had called you with an emergency although I couldn’t convince our sheriff that you bad guys were responsible for it. I then took matters into my own hands.”

“I figured you’d not listen to me but I depended on Judy to look after you.”

“Don’t blame Judy mom, I tricked her into thinking I had drunk her mickey, going so far as to feign sleeping when she sneaked into the house later to check up on me. She gave me heck for it when I called her later and even accused me of lying to her. But as I told her, technically I hadn’t as she was the first to know.”

Recalling my past adventures the realization of the last sentence set in and more grins lit up members of the posse and even briefly touching the corners of mom’s mouth.

“What am I going to do with you? Going off in the middle of the night and not telling anyone where you’re at or that you even left, just has to stop.”

Shrugging, I returned, “I’m sorry mom but I just seem to be drawn into the middle of stuff but things have turned out all right.”

“Mrs. Reed, sorry to interrupt but how is our wounded prisoner doing?”

“Not so good I’m afraid, Sheriff. I told these guys that the bullet needed to come out but that I couldn’t do it outside of a hospital. I could kill or paralyze him if I tried but he will die if that bullet is not removed, and soon.”

“How soon and what are his chances?”

“His chances are not good less than 50/50 and that’s his chances now; in 24 hours 30/70. I probably should go check on him.”

“Mind if I go along,” the sheriff rejoined.”

“Suit yourself sheriff.”

“Mom, can I tag along?” She nodded taking my hand and we followed the sheriff.

Outside the window, a large winged bird with glowing eyes uttered a doleful shriek from high on its perch in a tree outside the kitchen window as the three figures passed by its vantage point. A shower of snow sparkled, catching the light and fell to the ground as the great owl took flight.

Sheriff Fife led the way into the bedroom walking over to the bed and then stepped aside to allow mom to examine her patient. I watched from behind her as she took his blood pressure and temperature while listening to his heart and checking his eyes using a small penlight.

Satisfied Liz straightened up and turned toward the sheriff, “His condition is worsening and he’ll be dead if he’s not in a hospital before tomorrow tonight.” As Liz explained, she moved from blocking my view of the man who lay, apparently dying.

Memories of a very different night came rushing at me but with different actors. Our gazes met and recognition followed scant seconds later.

“Sarge,” I drawled, “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

“Bitch,” he spat.

Mom’s reply, “You know hi …” was cut short. A tongue of flame exploded at me from under his blanket. My reflexes, incredibly fast was no match for a lead bullet moving 1,000 feet a second and only needed three thousandths of a second to reach me.

Slow motion time kicked in at the last possible instant as I twisted left and away from the shot. I watched as the metal ball punctured my flesh just below my right breast and rib. I felt the slug careen off a rib and exiting my side underneath my arm.

Time then returned to normal as I crashed into and bounced off a wall and onto the floor. I moaned as a searing pain chased the bullet’s trail, followed by a blinding light and then warm darkness. My snapshot before the darkness was the window exploding beside the bed.

I woke in a large subterranean cavern that had several hallways leading away from its center from where I seemed to be at. One hall in particular seemed to beckon me, a hall that was brightly covered in a golden light. I looked at the scene from what appeared to be from inside a box, like observing from a distance and outside my body.

I felt a presence inside my mind demanding attention as I stared, still mesmerized by the light, “Atalanta, it is not your time. You must go back to your family and friends, they and the world need you.”

“What happened?” I thought.

Harvard my great owl appeared; slowly taking the shape of a tall blonde woman dressed in white silks and golden sandals, her body adorned in diamonds, gold, and silver jewelry.

She spoke revealing even white teeth, “Atalanta I hoped you’d have more time to adjust.”

“Huh,” I mumbled sensibly.

“… But I see that I’m going to have speed up the pace some. In the meantime I’ll give you some protection and a mark of that pledge.” The cavern faded.

“What is going on and where am I at?”

“In due time we’ll talk, but not now, it’s time for you to go back.”

The cavern and the woman began to fade, replaced by the room that I was shot in. I slowly became aware of someone hovering over me pulling at my clothes.

“Jeez, are you trying to smother me, I need some air … oh,” I winced as pain stabbed at my side.

The shape above me transformed into mom who paused her examination at my protest to ask me, “Did I hurt you dear?”

“No you didn’t, but the bullet did. I expect I’ll be sore there a while.”

“I need to stop the bleeding, dress and bandage that wound before it gets infected.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed, feeling that my shirt was warm and sticky, “but let’s use another room. Why is it so cold in here?”

Fife and another deputy stepped forward, assisted me to my feet, and with a man on each side of me we shuffled into the kitchen where I was eased into a chair. Mom shooed the men out and into the front room.

My long coat was eased off with mom then cutting my shirt off my body. Except for my bra I was naked from the waist up and perched high on my left arm was the perfect image of Harvard.

“How did that get there?” I wondered.

“Never mind, we’ll talk about it later,” she warned, examining my wound.

She worked quickly using warm water and a saline solution to clean away the blood and then bound it up with strips of linen and gauze. Stepping back she frowned, then looked over at the wife, down at herself and finally over to Margaret.
“Atalanta, you need a clean bra, yours is filthy, but none of ours will fit you but I don’t want your breasts irritating your wound either. I need to come up with a makeshift bra.”

“Can you have the sheriff bring me my pack?”

She nodded and disappeared into the other room and in a few minutes returned with my pack.

“Don’t tell me you packed a clean bra.”

“I tried to come prepared and I even brought a change of clothing for you too.”

As she was sorting through what I packed, I occasionally caught her looking at me oddly and more than once seemed on the verge of a comment. Soon I was dressed in a clean bra and blouse.

“Can you help me on with this coat?”

“You sure you don’t want to wear something lighter.”

“No, this is fine. Can you get the Sheriff for me?”

I was resting on my left arm and side relieving the pressure when he came in, “I’d appreciate it if you see that my animals and my stuff gets home safely.”

“Don’t you worry about it Atalanta, it’s taken care of. I have my best man on it.”

Thanks Sheriff,” I replied, “but can someone tell me what happened back there,” I indicated the bedroom with my gaze.

“You were shot and I guess it was your owl busted through the window hovered over you and then disappeared; not much,” he declared with a lopsided grin.

“What about Sarge?”

“He’s still holding on.”

The rancher and a deputy had found enough wood to board up the window against the cold. Also with the rancher’s help they were using a sled to pack the snow for a copter to land.

As we were waiting, I noticed the two girls staring at me wide-eyed. Calling them to me I apologized, “I’m sorry I got blood in your room and that my bird broke out your window. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Are you a super hero,” the youngest whispered shyly.

“No,” I replied giggling, “I’m just a girl who can’t get out of her own way, but I do have a secret weapon,” I leaned forward whispering.

She jumped up and down excitedly, “You really have a secret weapon!”

“I have a guardian and that’s like a secret weapon isn’t it.”

“Does she have wings?”

I started to answer no then I remembered Harvard; “Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t. What do you guys say if I ask her to protect your room from bad people and then I will see if she will clean up your room after we leave?”

“Will she do that,” the older girl asked giving me a serious look.

“I’m sure she will keep the bad stuff out of there and stand guard while you sleep. I can’t say for sure about her cleaning up but I’ll ask. Okay.”

I noticed that mom spent a lot of time on the phone or huddled up with sheriff while we waited for the helicopter to arrive. What they talked about or who all she called beside Judy I didn’t know. The hastily constructed helicopter landing pad was about 50 yards away from the house and a packed runway leading from it to the house.

Despite my protests they carried me out on a litter amidst a round of “’Atta’ girl,” from the posse. Being carried and laying flat put a lot of pressure along my side and with each step toward the aircraft a wave of dull pain rolled over me and I groaned as the aircraft drew closer. Beside the pilot and three medical personnel, the feds had sent along three agents to oversee. The feds were always involved in crimes that crossed state lines and were quick to add their 2 cents. Sarge and I were tied in and quickly hooked to monitors and IVs. Before we left the ground both the pain and my mind was getting fuzzy and I didn’t remember the trip or arriving at the hospital.

Sometime later that day I awoke in a hospital bed hooked to IVs with an occasional beep from a monitor. The second time was later that same afternoon and I realized I was in one of those awful gowns that all hospitals seem to favor. Sleep hastily reclaimed me each time. On each occasion mom was seated in a chair.

The room was darkened when consciousness returned the third time, light provided by corridor lighting. I was familiar with many of the trays, equipment, and machinery present from working in and around the clinic.

My right side was swaddled in bandages and drips and IV’s were attached to various places along the hand and arm on that side too. Wires were also attached to several locations on my chest and an automatic BP cuff on my right arm.
Mom was curled up in a lounge chair asleep, if her even breathing was any indication.

The large round face wall clock read 2:30 in the a.m. from all appearances. After noting the furnishings and where the interior doors, closet, and dresser were located, I began to take a bodily inventory. It was then I noticed the straps around my legs and waist and that the bed railings were up. I felt like a prisoner.

I did have free movement of my left hand and arm and my head and neck. Oh and I could wiggle my toes. My hair was tied back keeping it out of my eyes and from tangling as much.

The door opened admitting a nurse, “Oh you are awake. How are we feeling this morning?”

“I’m ready to go home.”

“You have any pain,” she asked checking my vitals and IV before testing my dressing.

“No, but what are these straps for? How about you take them off me?”

“You’re not going thrashing about and tear open your wound are you?”

I responded holding up two fingers on my left hand, “Scouts honor.”

“In that case I guess it will be all right,” she acknowledged releasing the restraints. I experimented moving my legs and then I scooted higher in the bed.

“Whoa,” she cautioned, “too much moving around and I’ll have to replace the restraints.”

“Sorry I was just trying to get comfortable. When will I be released?”

“When the doctor says you can?”

I smiled, “I’m good friends with her.”

She smiled back, “Sorry sweetie not here, she’s not your doctor.”

Our conversation must have awakened mom because I heard her stirring and in minutes she was beside my bed.

“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“Great,” I declared, “How long before you can spring me from this joint?”

She laughed, “I’m glad you are feeling better but probably not for another 24 hours.”

“Why,” I pouted, “I’m ready to go home.”

“Why,” she repeated, “why because you’ve been shot and I agree with your doctor that another night of observation to make sure that no infection has set in. Besides, you need to be interviewed and give a statement to the authorities.”

“Where are we?”

“Cedar City Medical Park,” Mom answered.

Great, I had a name and a place but not a location.

“Okay … but where are we again?”

“Utah, dear.”

“Um-mm, I’m hungry, any chance I can get anything to eat here and a drink; I’m thirsty too.”

Mom and the nurse left together, mom to get me some food and drink from the canteen near the nursing station and the nurse to her duties. She returned in a few minutes with some bland fruit cup and water that wasn’t very appetizing but it was cool and soothing.

“Thanks, mom,” I frowned after she had disposed of the container. “What happened after I was shot?”

“What do you remember,” she countered.

“Just flashes,” I admitted, “the explosion, the flame, the bullet, and the window crashing in. That’s all, just snapshots.”

“You’re one very lucky girl; an inch to the left …”

“Can’t happen,” I replied casually, “I didn’t become a girl for no reason. Besides I have a guardian.”

“Harvard?”

“Yes-no, well maybe but I think he is just a projection of someone else.”

“Who do you think that is?”

“First tell me what happened in there,” I asked referring to the bedroom where I was shot.

“The window blew in at the same instant as the shot did and followed by a giant owl that flew over to and covered you like a blanket and then seemed to disintegrate right before my eyes. When it did, I rushed right over to you and found you struggling to get up. It all took less time than it takes to tell it. Now it’s your turn.”

I shrugged, telling her of the cavern, the great owl, and of the woman and her message.

Perplexed, she replied, “I thought I saw a similar looking woman in that cloud that covered you, but it was just a fraction of a second and I could be mistaken.”

Pulling down the gown from my left shoulder, “You think this is that mark,” I asked pointing to the etched image.

“I don’t know but I won’t discount it either,” she countered.

We talked a little longer before I started to feel sleepy, “Mom I’m fine, but I am getting sleepy again and I think you need your sleep too,” I yawned pulling the covers higher.

A few days later found me at home either resting on our couch, in bed, or at the kitchen table. Doctor orders, no make that mom orders.

“Isn’t there another way, mom,” I asked for the umpteenth time. “I’m not one of these mutants and I don’t want to go to this Whateley Academy.”

We were seated at the table in the kitchen discussing me going to this school back east. Actually I was protesting going and had been ever since I had first learned of this school.

After the interviews at the hospital and the subsequent release the next day we flew home in a helicopter provided by a grateful government. Being a military brat I recognized two of the passengers as definitely from one of the services. Both spent a lot of time talking with mom.

In designing the new clinic a landing pad was built behind the center for any trauma victims. It didn’t require a lot of space and it was paid from a grant and its use limited to LE, medical, ranch business, and location made it an ideal staging area.

We landed to a small crowd of onlookers, Judy, Lindsey, and Sheriff Beckham chief among them. I felt like I was on display; landing in a helicopter doesn’t go unnoticed.

A week later mom broke the news about Whateley and I had whined about going ever since.

Finally she had had enough, “Out with it Atalanta, what is bothering you? It can’t be you’re afraid of meeting other people. Not the girl who singlehanded went into the desert and tracked down five bad men and rescued two little children. Or the girl that handed a guy twice your size, kicked his rear-end or the girl who in a snowstorm tracked down and rescued seven hostages and then survived getting shot.”

“… But.”

Liz was wound up tight and wasn’t about to be sidetracked, “Or the girl who played bounty hunter last winter and that I had to find that out from strangers. This same girl that has daggers as her hair pins. Now that I think about it this Whateley Academy may just be what you need to keep you out of trouble. And since it’s affiliated with the Army you can go there on a military scholarship.”

Great, now mom has convinced herself and any chance I had at changing her mind just flew out the window. But, a military school?

That O’Reily dude from one of the alphabet agencies must have really done a good job selling her on Whateley merits.
I conceded that the mutant rumors and the different hate groups out there might be a problem and that a temporary Military MID card shielded and allowed me to travel was useful. A small but larger group now knew my back-story and with the exception of my tattoo my appearance hadn’t noticeably changed. I did notice a subtle sense or source of power that I wasn’t aware of before being shot.

“Fine, have your way mom. I can’t really say why it bothers me as much as it does. It maybe that it seems I have no choice in the matter. It might be I don’t like to be labeled as a mutant. Or it could be something else, but you are right I am not afraid of any single person or a group of people. But I do have reservations about organizations that I’m not familiar with.”

“Congratulations Atalanta you have articulated your concerns and not just griped about it. There do you feel better,” Liz replied smiling.

I did feel better. “Yes I guess I do but I think it’s your smile that’s doing it,” I returned her smile.

“Good we’re going to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas together on Thanksgiving because they want you there early for your placement tests. So you’ll be there for their finals while you get placed and assigned your classes for the winter semester. You’ll also get your power testing and classification and permanent MID card then too.”

That was news to me, “So I go up to get tested and return back here and then go back to start school,” I queried.

“No, not that dear,” mom replied quickly, “the students have two weeks and the faculty has only one week. Your placement and power testing will run into both weeks and the MID card you have is temporary and is more like a travel warrant. Until you get your permanent card you can be arrested for unauthorized travel.”

“Jeez mom, that is a reason I didn’t want the mutant label.”

“You brought that one on yourself young lady when you rescued me,” Liz replied teasingly.

“I’d do it again,” I replied stoutly.

“I know you would and that is as good a reason as any you need this school. You’ll learn to deal with this new world that you’re in and stay out of miss-adventures.”

Somehow I didn’t think it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.

The next week flew by and Thanksgiving came and went with food and gifts and well wishes. The month long holidays was condensed down to three days with Sunday to rest on. Monday I packed my belongings and sneaked a visit to Ready and my cache.

Tuesday evening saw me waiting on the wooden platform at the depot for the train to arrive. I dressed warmly in jeans, boots, and my duster over Liz and Judy’s protests of, “You look like a hooligan going dressed in those clothes.”

My two suitcases were already checked and slung across one shoulder hung my purse while I clutched tightly the duffel or overnight bag. Its weight belied its compact size and contents: a change of clothing, toiletries, nightshirt, and duplicate documents.

My schedule called to change trains in Kansas City and again in Boston over to a local line that would take me into Dunwich where I was to be met from someone representing the school. My itinerary also included a one-day layover in Boston to connect with that local train which only ran three days a week to Dunwich.

As the days clicked off and the time for my departure drew nearer a strange dichotomy occurred: Mom and Judy grew more tense and anxious at the same time as I grew more enthused.

Mom adjusted the lapels on my coat for the third time while asking me again, “You have your money, cell phone and charger, travel papers, birth certificate, make-up, laptop …”

“Mom calm down. We’ve already went over this at least three times and checked and rechecked every item off the list. I’ll be all right but now I’m worried that you won’t be.”

“Honey I’m just worried that’s all. I’m sending my baby off into the world all alone and your just 14 years old.”

“But-But,” I teased posing, “I’m not just any 14 year old. I’m Superwoman.”

Before mom could properly scold me the faint sound metal of pushing against metal reached our ears, “clickety-clack, clickety-clack.” The sounds grew louder as each second ticked off until the hiss of air brakes signaled its stopping at the depot platform.

The conductor punched my ticket while the porter loaded my bags. A second round of hugs and goodbyes had the conductor admonishing us, “All aboard or you will be catching the next train.”

Standing at the top of the steps I waved and watched until the two lone figures disappeared against the sun. The train was almost empty and I had my choice of seats.

At last I was on my way to the New England school: Whateley Academy. What miss-adventures lay ahead?

Thanks for reading. There is one more chapter to go in this first book. It maybe a while after that before I start posting the second book. I have her at Whateley but am re thinking that timeline as it doesn't feel right. I do intend to write several more books of Atalanta's Miss-Adventures.

As always thanks for reading and your comments and I'll try and answer any question you have.

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

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

Chapter Eleven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is your husband not traveling with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is what mothers do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened in here?” He demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you,” I countered.

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

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

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

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

“Hum-m I think I understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” the familiar voice spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s one tough bastard,” I agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s handy,” he observed.

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

“What you got in mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t told her?”

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

“But you haven’t got a room.”

“Exactly,” I declared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything I can do to help?”

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

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

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

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

“Makes sense I guess.”

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

“Dinners ready.”

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

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

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

“Belongs in a picture book,” another agreed.

“It smells delicious.”

“It makes my mouth water.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Mom.”

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

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

“Are you leaving this early?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” she exclaimed lightly.

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

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

“Thanks mom, I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

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

“Yeah, Atalanta is everything all right.”

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

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

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

I nodded, “Yes.”

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

“Yes.”

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

“Between 35 and 40 minutes I guess.”

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

“Piece of cake,” I declared mightily.

“Hang in there kiddo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe she went with them after all.”

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

“Shit, did we cut power?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The packages are ready to be delivered.”

“What about him,” I asked.

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

“How about letting me?”

“Seriously,” he inquired studying my face.

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

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

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

“How did that happen?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded croaking out a, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes ma’am.”

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

He nodded numbly.

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shook my head.

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

Like being shot and a rebirth, I thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“What do you mean by a presence?”

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

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

“Go on,” Manny prompted.

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

Manny interrupted again, “A primal battle call?”

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

“Well that explains about the window.”

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

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

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

“I don’t blame you, I …”

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

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

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

I giggled looking at the bodyguards.

“What’s so funny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Impulsively I hugged each guy and in turn thanked each.

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

“I’m not that bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

Katelyn