THE QUESTIONS

THE QUESTIONS While Maria and I remained "intimate" friends, over the years, we did, in fact, watch as Calvin had his benefits cut off, many times, as well as serving time, for what was described as "welfare fraud". Simply stated, Calvin used up his benefits, the first week, of every month, at convenience stores. For the remainder, of the month, Calvin stole, and sold, anything he could get his hands on, for food money. Atleast three times, Calvin was sent to jail, for six months. This, for recruiting a friend, to aid Calvin, in breaking into food pantries. Calvin broke in, then he, and his accomplice, packed the truck, full of food. Since food pantries, like churches, are considered "holy ground", few have alarm systems. Each time Calvin was caught, it was during a random, home, visit, by his case worker. Calvin was arrested, each time, since he did not even bother to hide his "booty". Maria and I watched the man being taken to jail, several times. Each time, she snuggled up to me. Maria and I had become friends, over a conversation, over mens, and womens, habits. Everything from goals, to relationships. Even motor vehicles. When we, first, began to talk, Maria provided some deli type food. Not all that tasty, but good, all the same. When Maria had mentioned "Not near as good as my mother can cook." I suggested buying the ingredients, then fixing the food, the way her mother did. I was surprised when Maria asked me "Will you help me to eat it all? Even if it means multiple meals?" I suggested "Might make good practice, for married life." This is how we "began". As for the romance, that part came, naturally. As Maria's cooking improved, I went from verbal compliments, to kissing her. Soon, embraces were added, and, before I knew it we were resting, in her bed, after meals. It was easy, finding time to spend, together. Calvin was away, so much, that Maria and I could date, sometimes, for months, before we saw Calvin, again. This is how I learned that Maria was not just into home-cooking, but that my favorite grocery store, was hers, as well. A discount, grocery, store. A place, with ten times the variety, of the convenience store. The one thing, that I had to "watch", with Maria, was her desire for filling meals. While she had to get used to the fact that I did not drink beer, she, also, learned that I preferred HUGE salads, to huge meals. Maria was just happy when I took over Calvins weight training equipment. (Man, had he told Maria, several times, how he could become a professional body builder.) As I told Maria, with my back injury, I had a choice. Either exercise, or take HIGH potency, pain medication. I CHOSE exercise. Maria watched as I sculpted my body, into a mass of muscle. Now, while this did not encourage my spine, to heal, any faster, the extra muscle protected the spine, and cut down on pain, as I built up. While my health campaign continued, Calvin was sentenced to a full year, in prison, after being convicted of breaking into five pantries, in a single night. Street camera's had caught the fleeing vehicle, and the police arrested Calvin, with an apartment, full of stolen food. Calvin caught an extra eighteen months, when an officer used a night stick, to push Calvin forward, only to have Calvin beat the guard, with his own stick. The judge, overseeing the case, would have ruled that Calvin was ordered to work, to pay off his debts. This, however, with Calvins work record, showed would, never, work. Calvin did not CARE about work. IF he showed up, that was fine by him. IF he didn't... As Maria pointed out, this is the same reason why workers had to collect Calvin, for appointments. IF he showed up... This is why his workers had to pick him up. For Maria, I was a delightful "change of pace". I was the one who, when schedules were made, I kept to them. Maria did wonder how Calvin would adjust, when a judge, finally, sent him into LONG-TERM care. Still, Maria had me to train on. She just had to get used to the fact that, even afer day-time sex, instead of television, and beer, Maria found me with iced tea, and at her computer. What I dont understand is why, when my plans began to see yields, that I was told that Maria was "too old". After all, she was only twenty-nine. Turns out that the media would pay MORE attention if I were seen with an eighteen year old. When I asked Maria, she said "Sad, but true. To the media, I am a relic." Well, if Maria was a "relic", at age 29, then WHAT was I, at well over fifty? As for the reason why I began asking Maria to teach me Spanish, there was more than one reason. First of all, there was tthe "problem" that, when Maria got really aroused, she forgot how to speak English, and returned to Spanish. While I respected her right to her native language, my problem was "Maria, when you speak Spanish, I do not know if your words mean "More, baby, more", or "You are hurting me." When Maria suggested "My friend, Tequilla, has a deal, with her man. Anytime she slips into Spanish, he slaps her." When I suggested "Not my style." When Maria would ask "What then?" I suggested "Why dont you teach me Spanish. This way, in either language, I will know when you want more love." I, truly, do NOT know how she did it, but Maria had me able to master basic conversation, in Spanish, inside four months. (Maria only asked me NOT to tell her friends.) I found out why when Darlene visited Maria, one day. In Spanish, Darlene was telling Maria "I, really, thought that Marguerette was the one. She was so GOOD, in BED. I swear that I even tried to BUY her affection. She wants a man, though." Then looked at me, saying "I cant understand why." When Maria tried to explain what it was like, having a man, inside her body, all Darlene would say was "I know of vibrators, which can do better." On another day, I caught Darlene actually asking for Maria's breasts. When Maria reminded the woman "They belong to my man." Darlene all-but DRAGGED Maria into her arms, bent Maria over, and kissed my woman, about as deep as I did. While Maria accepted the un-wanted kiss, and necking, it was when Darlene rippeed Maria's top open, saying "I want some." That Maria called out, in Spanish "Husband". When I grabbed Darlene off of Maria, the first thing Darlene asked was "When did you (me), learn Spanish?" As Maria sat up, she told Darlene "I taught him." When Darlene asked "WHY?, This is our language. That of our ancestors." Maria said "My husband wanted to know when he was making me happy, and not just in Engish." What I noticed, but Darlene did not, was that, even as Maria rested, she did nothing, to cover her breast. In fact, what Maria DID do was to carress the flesh. What I could not believe was when, as I moved, to comfort my woman, Darlene all-but pleaded "Can we make it a three-some? I need some woman, BAD. Even if it means having a "man", as well." When Maria looked at me, asking "Husband?" I told her "My angel. It is YOUR body. She is your friend." In the bedroom, Darlene was the first, out of her clothes. When Darlene entered our bed, she, actually, called out, in Spanish "Me, first, Maria." The problem was that, while Maria was more WOMAN than ever, what Darlene had wanted was more of a man. Someone who would "take control." When Darlene cried out, in desire, Maria moved aside, asking "Husband, YOU are on." While Darlene got me off, until I was empty, once she rested, for a moment, she slapped me as she said "I dont need a man. I need a woman." I think that the moment, when Darlene got angry enough, that she took her clothes, and left, was the moment, when I took Maria into my arms, gave her a DEEP kiss, then drew my beloved into bed. After a night, of incredibly deep passion, Maria snuggled to my side, as she whispered "You know, for a confirmed Lesbian, Darlene sure "got off", with you. I think that is why she got mad." This is when I embraced the woman that I loved, and kissed her. When she went into Spanish, saying "More and deeper", I gave her what she wanted, atleast until my stomach growled. After this came a terrific breakfast, then I started out, on my daily errands. This, while Maria stopped by her mothers house, to tell of the nights activities. Maria tried to be tender, considering the fact that Darlene was who she was. This is why Maria was delicate, in telling her mother. Sure enough, mother repeated her same phrase. "All that woman needs is a man, to take CHARGE. Someone, who will force her to be a woman." When Maria would suggest "Mother, this is America. Freedom of Choice." All mother would do was whisper "Get a good man inside her, and watch her turn into a woman." Maria knew there was no chance, of winning this, so she informed her mother, about us. Here, again, mother had warned her daughter "Once you teach that boy Spanish, there will be no more secrets." Still, Maria had no regrets. While we remained friends, once Maria saw her friends getting pregnant, we broke off when I told her that she needed to find a man, who wanted children. I just dont know why her friends could not understand that we had broken up. After all, the most we did, in public, was embrace, and kiss. Not like Francesca, and her man. While the two "broke up", before we did, thee women noticed how Francesca made no complaints, even when the man, while kissing her, carressed her breast, through her top. As if that were not enough. Any time there was oral sex going on, Francesca, and her man, were in the middle of it. While the two gave, and received, oral, it was when the "main course" began, that the two "went at it", with the passion, of newlyweds. After the fact, the two would lay, side-by-sidee, just as Maria and I did, in bed. These two, however, lay, exposed, in front of the party, laughing at how good sex was, with an "ex". While Maria and I agreed that, in return for my reading her mail, we would embrace, carress, and share a kiss, it would seem that Maria had forgoten something. Maria had forgotten how much she LOVED swapping me what I wanted, in return for my assembling her kit furniture. Since nowadays, Maria did not have much kits left to buy, she made deals with her friends. I would build THEIR furniture, and Maria would "pay" me. Pay, Maria did. In fact, she went from offering me weeks, in return for construction, to offering months. While Maria KNEW that, eventually, she would have to re-enter the dating game, she traded me a few weeks, here and there, for escorting her to parties. Maria's biggest ask was with her grand-mother. An elderly woman, who felt that a womans first purpose, in life, was to bear children. While grand-mother considered Maria's sisters "bohemians", for working in arts and crafts, the woman, also, made it known that she did not like Maria's last man. Frankly, he did not like her family, either. Especially after her sisters reminded him that he was with Maria. This is why Maria was so happy, when she met me. Since her grand-mother made it clear that I ws her "favorite", for Maria, Maria got "off the hook", for the question: "When are you going to find a man." For the past, few years, grand-mother had been reminding me of he "joys, of parenthood." Now that we were "no longer", Maria had a problem. How to tell grand-mother that we had parted. Maria's suggestion was "I want to wait, just until we bury her. Then, I will tell her." When I asked "Until then?" Maria would say "I give you all that you want, and you pretend that we still, love one another." When I asked "What happens if we DO fall back in love?" Maria would, only say "I never knew we were OUT of it." For each holiday season, that I agreed to be her man, Maria would grant me an extra YEAR, of V.I.P. status, in her bed. As to the question, of how LONG this could last, I had no idea. After all, how LONG can two people be in love? Life was just one question, after another. Would the questions ever end?

THE NIGHT SHIELA WISHED HAD NEVER HAPPENED

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF THUNDER ISLAND

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF THUNDER ISLAND I know that it will sound like a combination, of bizzarre, and weird, but what I state is the complete truth. Tami and I had just been assigned to review a case, in which a female client was positive, to the point, of obsession, that the fact that her own daughters were playing with a "spirit board" meant that the girls were "playing" with dark magic. The mothers "proof" was the "fact" that, when the parents took the board away, soon after this, the girls were found, playing with the board, again. This gave Tami a laugh, as she remembered the doll, that her own mother had taken away, more than once. Problem was that Tami KNEW where mother put away things. This is why Tami kept the doll, and did not part with it until she saw that her mother no-longer cared. Now, we were being sent to get rid of a board game. How crazy is life? What we did not expect was what happened when a "temp" took over for Mr. Brown's secretary. While Tami and I were glad, when the board game case was "brushed aside", what we, never, figured on was being assigned to, was the mystery of a place called "Thunder Island". (As if Thunder Road was not bad enough.) The best part, of the case, was that, un-like the Mystery of the Drag Racers, and Mystery of Thunder Road, this mystery had nothing to do with race cars. According to the contact, Thunder Island was much more similar to Disney's "Night on Bald Mountain." Maybe a cross with Milificents castle, from "Snow White". What our contact wanted to know was why, even on clear nights, thunder could be heard, and lightning could be seen, streaking, about the island. The Brown Agency was being asked to investigate because as many as twenty other investigators had gone to the Island, with none returning. When I asked Tami "Just where is this island located?" Tami would pull up photos, of an island, inside the lake, of a volcano crater. Tami would say "$20.00 says that the people went into the mountain, and are lost, inside." I could agree with this since, after all, geography showed that the island was, actually, PART of the mountain. Rain had just filled in the gully, between the walls, and the island. As Mr. Brown would suggest, via vid-conference: "The contact wants to know if noises, and effects, are man-made. If so, what is the reason/purpose?" This was the kind of research that Tami LOVED doing. Learning about a place, via research, and reading. It did not take her long, at all, to learn that the original mountain top had been above the island, and that the island was the top of a volcanic vent. This is why it had survived the explosion, from centuries ago. The vent was a pressure release point. All that I can say is that the mountain must have been massive, since the crater, around the vent, was massive enough, to make the biggest lake, in my hometown, look like a creek, by comparison. While locals currently used the lake, for boating, and swimming, there were more utility-style plans, in the works. If Tami and I could de-bunk the supernatural stories, there were plans, to drill into the lake, and let its water supply handle the local towns water needs. Before any drilling could take place, however, the lake, and island, had to be verified as free of danger, to health and life. This is why twenty missing people had to be found. Tami's main concern was that, even if this mountain was "extinct", there could be MILES, of underground vents. Who knew WHERE the other, missing, people were. Upon arrival, at the location, our pilots were relieved to find enough space, to land, on the island, itself. Nothing suspicious, upon arrival. Just a quiet island, sitting among the lakes water, containing tree's, grass, and some abandoned buildings. Due to the otherwise rugged nature, of the island, we agreed with our pilots, who set up our version of U.A.V.'s. (Un-manned, Aerial Vehicles) Basically, radio-controlled planes. After each, of the walkman sized robots was airborn, Tami returned to researching the vent system. This while our pilots, and myself, went scouting about the area. The island was not "huge", but it was big enough for people to sun-bathe, and to hold picnics, on. A FULL, DEEP, recon, of the island, took about one day. By this time, however, Tami had some very bad news, for us. "My research has, so far, yielded atleast 87 places, where people could either hide, or be lost." When our pilot asked "DIstress beacons?" Tami would check the recorders then say "So far, nothing." When our co-pilot asked "Could the rocks, and boulders, be blocking the signal?" Tami would say "Anything is possible." Our first week, on the island, was so quiet that it was like there was no one, else, in the world. No action. No thunder. No lightning. Just native insects. Actually, the only "action", that we had was when Tami sent the U.A.V.'s into the vents. She had to recall the units, within 500 feet, of entry, since they came upon an unusually wide spread layer of Lead. As to what Lead might be doing, in volcanic vents, this was anyones guess. Since even Tami and I knew how badly that even dense Lead inhalations could damage the human brain, this is why we were happy to have our militarty-reject respirators. Now, the defense department had contracted for portable respirators, which would supply nearly un-limited, breathable, air, for as long as worn, the contractor just could not seem to make the device last more than five days. This is why myself, and the pilots, put on our gear, respirators, and signal-boosting equipment, before proceeding past the point, where remote, radio, reception just did not exist, due to the lead. While the three of us must have looked like aliens, in our suits, our signal-boosters kept us on-line, with G.S.2. If there was one, annoying thing, about these suits, it was the "Heads Up Display". From the moment, when we passed the first point, of strong lead content, the H.U.D. kept a constant read out on the atmosphere. Now I understood why the military turned down these suits. It was because of the maddeningly constant reminders. I mean, HOW are soldiers supposed to get work done, when suits kept flashing "WARNING", and the count down, to the five day limit. After each twelve hour pass, we had to return to the plane, and toss those suits aside. (I truly, doubt, that the manufacturer would like our review, of their equipment.) While the suggestion was made, that the tunnels/vents could be hosed down, to settle the lead, there were atleast twenty problems, with this option. ALL of them had families, waiting for word. How would it look if we drowned people, to search for them? The only good/bad "news", that Tami had, to report, to Mr. Brown, was that the island seemed quiet, since our arrival. Not one sign of thunder, or lightning. This lead Tami and I to question the "urban legend" theory, that couples came to the island, during storms, for "romantic evenings". We were about ten days, on the island, when a couple of things happened. First, Mr. Black sent us some prototype tracted robots. These, we sent into the vents, and were "hard-wired" to G.S.2. Second, Tami had to minimize a search screen, when a U.A.V. detected movement. It was the other side of the island, however, thanks to U.A.V. developments, Tami had a clear picture, of two families, arriving, by boat, to the island. Nothing suspicious. Just a couple of older men, with fishing poles, women, lounging, on the beach, and children, playing in the lake. Tami only noted the information, in her report, since she wondered just how MANY locals believed in Thunder Island. Personally, I was both amazed, and thankful, at the amazing advance, which Mr. Blacks team had made, with fibre optics. 30,000 feet, of cable, taking the space of only a single spool. About the only thing we learned, by week two, was that the lead was NOT a naturally occurring deposit. All scans verified that the lead was in sheets. Two feet thick, twelve feet tall, and twenty-five feet, long. This posed a problem, for both G.S.2, and the Brown Agency, since neither could find any lead producers, who worked with such large sheets. Since lead is so pliable, it would have had to be shipped, in storage containers. If stored "free-style", it would have bowed and sagged. Even Mr. Browns contacts could find no shop, which handled lead, in such sizes. Back at Thunder Island, the robot had just reached the 10,000 foot mark, when it located the missing investigators. According to the video feed, however, it was like the people were telling the probe to "go back!", even as it rounded the corner, to locate them. When Tami thought she saw a shadow, behind the robot, and switched views, to the rear, even our co-pilot would ask "What the..." as a slab came down, across the tunnel. Now, under normal circumstances, such a fall should have severed the link, leaving the probe useless. Whoever the people were, who built this place, they had no idea they would be coming up against Mr. Brown's detective agency. Mr. Brown. The man who built a detective agency out of recruiting the brightest, most talented, zaniest, and odd-ball, people that he could find. This was the secret, of the Brown Agency's success. A human version of the Skunkworks. To date, NO case had gone beyond the unique variety of the Brown Agency staff members talents. This case was no exception. At the request, of the Department of Defense, Mr. Black's techs had been working to develop a new material, to connect robot probes, to their base of operations. Thunder Island would serve to test just how good Mr. Blacks techs really were. While the slab may have come crashing down, with the weight of 20 (+) tons, our experimental cable withstood the impact, in fine style. So far as we could tell, the explorers may have been dehydrated, and mal-nourished, but all were alive. As the "leader", of the group, told Tami, via the video camera, "This place is a trap. It is triggered by movement." When Tami would ask "Is that why you have not emerged, yet?" The man said "Yes" When Tami asked "How LONG until reset?" The man would say "Five hours, maybe six. Remember, if you try to move your robot, it will trigger the trap, again." Tami would say "Got it. Talk to you, soon." After sending off a flash message, to headquarters, Tami would gather us together, asking "Any idea's?" Our co-pilot would say "I dont get it. We dont have any bases, near here. Why go to all of this effort, for useless land?" Our pilot would say "Good point. Right now, however, our focus should be on rescue. Not on who did this, or why." When Tami would say "I am not so certain. Now, while you men work up a rescue plan, I am going to continue my research. Maybe something, in the past, will shed some light on this." When our co-pilot would come up with the idea of using jackhammers, and hydraulic vice grips, the group would say "We tried picks and shovels. We tried some C-4. The more noise, and vibration, the more the tunnels react. We DID have eight air shafts, providing breathable air. With each escape attempt, one closed. We have only four shafts, to provide us with lead free air." When Tami would ask "Speaking of lead, HOW did you make it, so far, without breathing equipment?" Another team member would show the used up air purifiers, which each team member had used. By this time, our co-pilot would have either earned a medal, or a court-martial, for ripping the displays out of the helmets. Now, we would have to rely on wits, to make sure we surfaced, BEFORE the fresh air gave out. Since it would have been impossible even to FIT our hovercraft into the tunnels, the pilots, and myself, would be left, to turn a pallet into a sled, and load fresh suits onto it. While the trap door did, in fact, retract, as predicted, this, still left the question of how to defeat the trap door. When everyone, from the D.O.D., to Black Ops, denied any knowledge, of this place, or the trap door, the best that anyone came up with was when one of Mr. Blacks tech's suggested using a high-wire act. The action, which the tech recommended, was right out of classic burglary, and secret agent, movies. The idea would be to bring the suits within visual range of the trapped workers. At this point, we would use a special type, of grip, to anchor one end, of the line, outside of the trap. The other end, the pilot would shoot just over the heads, of the trapped researchers. With the kevlar/titanium blend line, between the two points, the suits would be opened, and made ready. After this, each person, trapped, would zip line over to our side. The process may have been time-consuming, tiring, and energy-draining, but, with almost four and a half days to spare, a group, of tired, drained, hungry, people, would emerge from the tunnel. The pilot even managed to save our robot, by using a second zip line, to lift the unit from the floor. After showers, meals, and personal contacts, with employers, to verify that people were, in fact, alive, Tami gave us the bad news. No one. Not military. Not civilian. Not private enterprise. No one had any knowledge of the traps in the tunnels. As Tami would report "Almost to a source, all believe that the tunnels were carved by old prospectors. The shape, of the lead, is just coincidence. Everyone I have contacted shares the notion that this place was just an old mine." When I suggested "As for the alleged thunder, and light..." This is when atleast two researchers would ask "What do you mean, "alleged"?" Tami would interrupt, saying "Since we have been here, all is quiet. No thunder, lightning, witches, on brooms. Nothing. Personally, I think this would be a great place to have a week off." When another researcher would ask "Did you plane sneak in, as we did?" I would ask "Why?" The researcher would say "If they dont know you commin', they have fun, round here. Its when they KNOW you here that everything is quiet." This is when our pilot would ask "Are you saying that someone is CONTROLLING events, in this area, and that, if they SEE us, taking off, the special effects will start up?" Tami would ask "Why not? Remember that one case we worked. The one where all was quiet, as long as locals saw our plane parked near the location." Our co-pilot would say "Boy, do I remember that one. Place was as quiet, as a graveyard, until we flew away." Our pilot would add "Yeah, we had to fly two cities away, to find a place to park. Took us almost four hours to return." This is when Tami would ask "Who is in for some hide-and-seek?" Making sure to be SEEN packing up, G.S.2 lifted off, and flew away. Just as our extra passengers had said, by making our exit noticable, we were assured that life would go back to "normal". Thanks to our pilots former military service, G.S.2 did not have to fly two cities away, this time. No, according to a source, at the Pentagon, there was a "blast bunker", located just outside of town. Our source would tell us that this was just one, of nearly a dozen "off the radar" test sites, for new explosives. Even before the bombing of Japan, there had been "whispers", about new blasting, devices. With the possibility that an explosive, with atomic force, but without radioactive fall-out, being tossed about Europe, Washington D.C. had set up its own "think-tanks", and "proving grounds", to test the deadliest weapons imaginable. When Tami inquired, the source told her "This information is not to be made public, for 250 more years." Tami would promise "We are private investigators. Nothing, that we do, is made public. If you want an N.D.A., I can provide one." That was true. Mr. Brown's primary success lay in the fact that only clients knew of the firms existance. New clients only came from former clients. According to the information, which the source shared, with Tami, no more than five attempts, at "super-explosives" were made. Sure, there were PLENTY of THEORIES, about what SHOULD work. Plenty of equasions. Afer a total of five failures, all of which had been promised could level half of North America, in a single blast, the program had been cancelled. During the time, of the Berlin Wall, and the threat, of Communism, the bunkers became storage depots, in case the Soviets did, actually, invade the U.S. Since the bunkers were buried below ground, it was thought that atleast a few would survive aerial attack. After the fall, of the Soviet Union, the stockpiled weapons were sold off, to military schools. For the past 25 years, the bunkers had sat unused. All-but forgotten, by the world. Best of all, each had a camouflauged runway. While our pilots expected a bumpy landing, on a runway, which had seen much better days, all, on-board our plane, were surprised at how smooth the landing was. There was even a left over winch, which our pilots used to tow G.S.2 into an un-used hangar. After our pilots got our hovercraft ready for use (our cars would be useless, on the lake.), ALL of us were surprised to find some old style hovercraft, left over from the cold war. While not ten percent as silent as our own craft, the fact that these were antiques would cause loss of interest, in no time. While one, of the team leaders, would express "I hope the military does not mind our using their equipment." Our co-pilot would suggest "Dont worry about it. If the brass felt this equipment had any use, it would have been gone decades ago." Driving AROUND the town was easy, in our craft. We could float over anything. The angle, of the mountain, was no problem, either. We just skimmed up the sides, over the lake, then settled in, on Thunder Island. Thankfully, decades, of dis-use made the military hovercraft "Blend right in", with the terrain. Now, we wait. And wait, we did. All of this, while Tami tracked the legends of the eruption, which had created this crater, and the island. The most reliable information came from the indian tribes. Their information said that, at some point, LONG before even the Vikings came, the god, of the Earth, had become angry. No one, really, agreed on the reason. The story said that, when the god became enraged, he set forth a mighty roar, which blew the Earth into the sky. The Earth was like fire, liquid and molten. When Tami checked on the vent, which formed the core of the island, she found legends, of jewels, and gold, being tossed into the vent, to appease the gods. She found rumors, of gold, silver, even lead, being melted down, then poured on the walls of the vent. When Tami asked "WHY?", the tribal council could only come up with a version, of relieving stress, with massage. The vent was smoothed so that any pressure build up would find easy passage to the sky, where the spirits would take the polutants away. Nice bed time stories, but less than relevant. Mr Brown had sent us here to find facts. Not bed time stories. When some thunder, and lightning, did begin to over-take the island, yet it seemed to RISE from the ground, not strike the ground, one of the researchers told me not to bother looking. The sources, of the thunder, and lightning, were mobile. The researchers had spent days trying to track he source. When I would suggest "If it is mobile, then it has to be man-made." Another researcher would ask "Okay, WHERE do they hide it, when not in use?" When I suggested "The vents." The researchers would suggest "Without breathing equipment? The lead would not only poison their lungs. It would saturate their clothes. Even their food." For the next two weeks, until the full moon, all we could do was watch, and gather data, on the island. One thing I CAN report. I learned why they called this place "THUNDER Island." When the thunder really "kicked up", it roared, so loud, it would make an acid rock concert seem quiet, by comparison. Tami might have smiled, as the other, female, researchers, jumped into mens arms, as the thunder crashed. That is, except for the fact that, while the thunder was at full blast, my partner hid within the hovercraft, herself. While our pilots made every effort, to TRACK the noise, it was useless. With the crater walls, sounds bounced back and forth, like ping pong balls. The first night, of the full moon, was a total "wash out", and I mean that, literally. A storm, maybe magnitude eight, swept over the island, and only our sealed cabin, on the hovercraft, kept us dry. Our pilots would say they held sympathy, for the researchers, in the other hovercraft. These were not built to be waterproof. They were built to hover OVER water. While the storm lasted from dusk, until about 2 a.m., Tami and I agreed with our pilots. Best to wait until daybreak, then check for damage. As for warmth, even I did not understand the tech, which was employed, to generate heat, inside the cabin. All I knew was that, no matter the outside temperature, the heating system kept us warm. While OUR radio system, including our link, to G.S.2 was waterproofed, it would turn out that the other craft were not so lucky. We found this out at about 02:30 hours, when the other hovercraft began using a flashlight, to signal us. Now, sure, the four of us COULD have returned, to G.S.2 any time that we wanted to, but our pilots would say that it would be better, for morale, if we stayed. Come sun rise, both craft returned to G.S.2, and this is when we learned another truth, about private enterprise. Since Thunder Island was an inland lake, with a town, close by, the investigators had been supplied only basic, hiking, rations. Sure, they were "delicious", and "nutritious", but the "economy size", meant very little content. In fact, it would take atleast four, of the packs, to equal just one of our military surplus rations. Still, we rested, for an extended time. Not due to fatigue, or full stomachs. The problem was that, over time, the waterproofed seals, on the other hovercraft, had eroded. The craft had, barely, made it to the plane, before its systems shut-down, due to "exposure to moisture". When a researcher would ask "Why didn't the military spend the money, to waterproof this thing?" Our co-pilot would remind the researcher "Sir, you have to understand.. This craft is over half a century old. Eventually, even the seals, on OUR hovercraft, will need to be replaced." This is why, as our pilots took apart the engines, the rest of us got busy, with towels, rags, and so on. The sooner that the parts were dried out, the sooner that the craft would be operational, again. The seals, however, were another problem, altogether. Due to the age of the craft, this type, of seal had gone out of production, decades ago. This is where Mr. Blacks tech department went to work, again. Using detailed measurements, and the serial numbers, from the engines, Mr. Black had his techs turning out replacement gaskets, by mid-afternoon. By supper time, another, vertical lift, plane was setting the cases off, right near the disabled ship. It was a good thing, too, since the original gaskets just fell to pieces, when parts came apart. Decades, of storage, and dry rot, had taken their toll. Tami would send Mr. Black our thanks, both for the engine gaskets, and the hatch, and window, seals. By evening, we had the old machine operating like our hovercrafts grand-father. With G.S.2's link, to the National Weather Service, when the report showed another storm in-bound, we used every hand we could get, to drag out some chutes, from our plane, and covered the "grand-father" with them. Sure enough, just as we closed the hatch, of G.S.2, the rain began to fall. While we could see the storm, cutting loose, on the island, when the researchers asked about interior silence, our pilots were left to explain what G.S.2 was, originally, designed for. When the researchers asked "BY the way, how MUCH do you expect this plane cost the American taxpayer?" Almost as a chorus, all four of us said "Dont ask." After all, WHAT would taxpayers think if they knew that up to $900 billion, of their tax dollars had been spent, on this "reject"? A plane, which spent its days chasing spirits. Un-like the hovercraft, G.S. 2 had the finest sound baffles, in existance. The design was also so sleek that it would take the most powerful, hurricane force, winds, just to rock our "boat". While the researchers were working on their own notes, Tami was working the internet, trying to find some very OLD information, on this island. And, YES, G.S.2 had "snuck back", to the island, on a moon-less, overcast, night. The problem Tami found was that there just weren't any records, dating before 1791. Only the oral history, of the tribes. In fact, it was only two weeks later, that an indian elder arrived, at the island, with his great grand son. The elder asked us "Would you, PLEASE, explain, to my great-grand-son, that the vents are not safe. He will DIE, if he goes there." While Tami would mention "There are toxic levels, of lead, in the vent, are you sure you want to risk that?" When the young brave would say "The ancient ones. They will protect me." When I would ask "WHO are the ancient ones? WHERE do they live?" The elder would say "Our legends say that the ancient ones have ships, like yours. They just had the ships centuries before." When Tami would ask "You know this HOW?" The young man would say "It is part of our history. I will be the first brave to see them, in many moons." I was about to object, until the lead researcher would suggest "Why not let him make his attempt. Normal gear. The elder can watch, from the plane." While the brave did not want the gear, it was only when the elder would say "Put it on, or go home." The brave put ON the suit. When the brave entered the vent, Tami locked the drones frequencies onto the suits. When the brave found the lead sheets, he called "Grand-Father. It is the story of the old ones." When the elder asked "How does it begin?" The brave began reading, in the indian language, but only until the elder realized that only he indians understood. When the elder called "Grand-son. I should have said "Read it in English." The brave would say "As soon as I can find a panel, which can be read." When Tami called, to the brave, "How MANY languages are present?" The brave would reply "So far, I have found five. Cherokee, Navaho, Iroquoi, plains..." A researcher would say "Interesting. Finding writings, in so many, indian, languages." When Tami would ask "In what way?" The researcher would say "The nations had no alphabet, that we knoow of. Am I right sir?" The Elder would say "Until the white man came, we had no need." We began to discuss this, but only until the brave would say "This MUST be a joke." When the elder would ask "Grand-son, WHAT is a joke?" The young man would say "Grand-Father, these researchers MUST have planted this information." When the lead researcher would ask "What does he mean?" and the elder would ask "What is your reason?" The brave would say "If I am reading this, correctly, it claims that Starfleet, and colonial battlestars, are waiting, just beyond the edge of the solar system." When the elder would ask "Does it SAY what they are waiting for?" The brave would say "Grand-father, our science class sent a recorder out, on the last mission. It left the solar system just last year. If Starfleet, or anyone else, were waiting, dont you think our camera's would have shown them?" When a researcher would suggest "Maybe, a cloaking device?" Everyone looked at the man, like he was half crazy. He would add "Just saying." When the elder would ask our group "Does your robot have a scanner?" Our pilot would tell Tami "Command 2145, Alpha." Within moments, we were receiving computer-enhanced feed from the probe. As the brave closed on the trap door, Tami cautioned him, and he replied "Yes, miss. I see the signs, of tools. I know where to step." The elder would say "I hope he DOES remember." Maybe 1,000 feet beyond any point where either man, or probe, had travelled, so far, the brave would find a fallen piece, of lead, then he reported, to G.S.2 "It seems the rock was not stroong enough to hold this piece." He, then, held the piece up, for probe examination, before placing it aside, so that the probe could scan the underlying sheet. A few minutes later, we, all, heard the sound, of feet. This, even before the brave would ask "I thought you said no one else was down here." When our pilot would cut in, asking "Son, pan your camera around, maybe just 180 degree's." When the brave did this, something flashed by, just beyond the edge of vision. This is when the field researcher would sound off, asking "Simmons, where are you?" When Tami asked "Who is Simmons?" A female researcher would say "Simmons is a creep, who LOVES to play tricks. HOW he got on this team, I will, never, know." It was not until Simmons entered the plane, asking "What is the shouting about. I was just collecting some fire-wood." This is when the elder would remember an old story. The story, of a demon, who guards a treasure. When the elder would voicee his concern, to the brave, saying "I think you have come too close, to the treasure. You have awoken the demon, which guards it." When Tami would ask "Guards what?" The elder would say "The story says that when the Great god became angry at the sickness of the world, he broguth forth the great rain." Tami would say "Noahs flood. Every kid knows that story." The elder would add "What your Christian history does NOT tell you is what happened after the flood." When our co-pilot woulld say "Sure it does. It claims that God promised Noah there would, never, be another, great flood. Everybody knows that." The elder would say "Son, that is the Christian version, of history. Among OUR history, it is claimed that, before the flood, when our ancestors looked to the sky, and read the signs, they placed the best of us, all that we had become, into a cave, and sealed it, shut." When Tami would ask "Your ancestors buried people, ALIVE?" The elder would say "We buried no one, alive. The story says that we buried all of our accumulated KNOWEDGE. The story says that a sacrifice was made, to place a demon in charge of security. The demon will "stand down" ONLY when man has learned the great lessons." When a researcher would ask "WHAT great lessons? Peace, and Harmony?" The elder would say "The demon will only step down..." This is when the enforcer demon would appear, saying "The indian is correct, for the most part. The indians DID hide their most important information. They called forth the strongest power, that they could think of, as a sort-of security guard. That is what is hunting the brave. When Tami would ask "Why a demon? Why not just several bricks thick, of wall?" The demon would say "Insurance. Good thing they thought of it when they did. Man! When this mountain went up. She made St. Helens look like a picnic." When I would ask "How did the island survive?" The demon would say "What you are calling an "island" is, in fact, and in truth, a pressure release vent. I wont bore you with the details, except to say that you better hope that kid is NOT inside the tubes, the next time it blows." When Simmons would joke "What if he is? Will Satan be watching, for him?" The Enforcer demon would give the man a look more deadly than Tami and I had seen, before. The demon would inform the rest of us "If ANY mortal is in that tube, next time it blows, they will, never, survive the ride." With that, the demon vanished. Atleast now, Tami could verify that the island, and lake, were caused by a volcanic eruption. While the elder was asking the brave to leave the vent, and escape the beast, the brave responded "It knows where I am. Too late to go back. Going for the treasure." Deeper, inside the mountain, the brave no-sooner said "Eureka!", and showed a great treasure, un-seen, by human eyes, in thousand of years, when a growl was followed by the braves life signs flat-lining. Strange thing was, Tami was just asking the elder "What will the demon do with the remains?" when the video showed the demon, dragging the body back to the central entrance. The demon seemed immune, to the lead. All the elder would say was "I hope the Great Spirit is kind to my grand-son." To our astonishment, the demon loaded the body onto the robot, then made the HUMAN sign for "Get out." Fortunately, the robot was wired to the braves suit, so retrieval was possible. While the robot brought the body back, to the surface, the whole lot of us, reviewed the video, from just before the death, trying to figure out what was worth killing for. The closest that we can, was the elders translation, of a lead panel. The panel described a process, by which static electricity would be collected, by some un-specified material, and released, under predetermined conditions. On another panel was written the reason for the traps. It was to frighten away the curious. It was, even, written that, at the time, the top, of the volcano, had been sealed, to prevent entry. In fact, the volcano had been sealed, at several, different points. The problem, with the indian version, of history, was that it stated that the volcano had been sealed just before the flood, of about 5,000 years ago. HOW could this be correct, since samples indicated that erosion went much further back? The best, that Mr. Blacks team could come up with was 100,000 (+) years. In summary, it would seem that while SOME-one had hidden SOME-thing away, setting up a series, of traps, to prevent intrusion, and even sealing off access, mother nature had done her own work. At SOME point, in history, the mountain had needed release, even more than someone needed security. When the pressure found its path blocked, it, literally, blew its top off. Maybe 10,000 feet worth. This left behind a damaged, security, station, a crater, an island, and a demon, which no one remembered to shut off. The reason why the island was ruled "off limits", to development, was not due to the demon. It was due to a security system, which no one had seen, before. It was a technology which is far in advance of our own. With no, known, way, to dis-arm it, Thunder Island would remain a blissful mystery. All that the video showed was that there were some kind of "documents", protected by a life-form. The question was: IF indian lore were correct, then WHEN would mankind be ready to accept the knowledge? While Tamis "final report", to the Brown Agency, would look more like swiss cheese, Mr. Brown did remind us that the goal was to find out WHAT the causes, of the thunder, and lightning, were. Not to stop them. According to Mr. Brown "None of us can be held responsible for what people might have done half a million years ago. We are responsible for today." While G.S.2 did airlift the researchers, from Thunder Island, we were happy when everyone signed the non-disclosure forms. (Even Simmons signed, once reminded of the potential penalty). The elder, we delivered to their tribe. At reservation request, Tami and I remained for the funeral service. After the service, the tribal shaman placed a charm/spell on the plane. With thanks, we departed the area. On to the next case...

SHIELA 2

SHIELA'S MISTAKE I THINK that I KNOW where Shiela went wrong, with handling our occassional "dates". First off, when she gave me a full weekend, she made too much of a point of DENYING the fact, afterward. Simple fact was that Shiela had asked my opinion, of her breasts. When I told her "From what I can see, they seem perfect". When Shiela mentioned "I wish you would tell my boyfriend that." When I asked "Why?", Shiela would tell me "He says that if I dont get quad-"D" size, that he is going to dump me, for a "real" woman." Now, although Shiela and I were "friends", we, both, agreed that there could, NEVER, be anything, between us. I wasn't her "type", and, aside from her beauty, she was not my type. Shiela wanted "Conan the Barbarian", and she would settle for nothing less. What concerned Shiela was how many other men might want a HUGE chest. For some reason, when Shiela asked if I would accept her breasts, if she offered them, she did not stop to think. When I mentioned "If you are offering, I am accepting." Shiela considered backing out, then she remembered "I AM on birth control. What harm can he do?" Shiela found out how much "trouble" I could cause, when her boyfriend cancelled a weekend date, with her. He, actually, thought that a woman, like Shiela, could not land another man, in five minutes flat. On friday, Shiela's concern began wih the fact hat I did not drink booze, with dinner. After dinner, she did not know WHAT to think, when I brushed my teeth, before kissing her, whispering "I thought you might like a fresh mouth to kiss." After Shiela used her own toothbrush, she settled into my arms, for a few moments, of soft, classical, music. After this, our clothes found her bedroom floor, and her back found the mattress. This time, however, Shiela felt that something was "different". She figured out what it was, when I did not just "stick it in". When I took my time, seducing her, until a flame became an "inferno", by the time our bodies united, Shiela found that her only hought was "I want to make this man happy." When we spent most, of friday night, making deeply passionate, romantic, love, Shiela found hat her main concern was that the weekend was passing far too quickly. While Shiela did promise me the whole weekend, she was surprised when, on saturday, when she mentioned "I have some errands to run. If all goes right, I should be back, by five." When I agreed that I had some errands to run, as well, I took her list, compared it with my, then presented another proposal. Since her mother would be taking Shiela shopping, in the family car, I suggested that Shiela take the big orders, at the big stores, and that I would handle the small stuff. The items which would take half the time to purchase as it would take, to park the car. When Sheila asked "Dont get worn out. I want some MORE, tonight." I promised. Sure enough, the plan worked. While the ladies took four hours, shopping, for food, I spent four hours riding around town, filling my packs, with purchases. Shiela would not have believed it, if she had not been there. By three p.m., all the shopping was done, and Shiela was back in my arms, taking all the "love" I could give her. By early evening, however, we had to take a break, as my stomach was growling, from need for food. For some reason, Shiela found herself NOT suggesting that we go, for "fast food", but that she could prepare something, in the house. What Shiela called a "snack", I called a meal. A meal which, afterwards, I took her into my arms, lay her back, and kissed her, deeply. As far as regrets are concerned, the main regret, that Shiela had, was allowing me o nurse her breasts. Something which, once I began, she did not want to end. On sunday, we took a break. Shiela put on the most comfortable, lace, panties, that she could find. She topped this off with a sheer baby doll, top. With this, she went about doing some house-keeping. She KNEW what was strange, about hat sunday. It was the fact that, un-like her previous men, all of whom guzzled booze, while watching sports, I drank water, and worked at her home computer. When she looked over my shoulder, saw my writing, hen said "So, you are a writer." I kissed her hand. That evening, we got in about two hours, worh of sleep. Then came monday. On monday morning, Shiela was so obsessed, with my promise, that I would say nothing, about the weekend, that I gave in, and kissed her. After that, we cleaned up, then she saw me to her door. This is when she said "Before you go..." and I took her into my arms, and gave her another, deep, kiss. I left her, lying back, and smiling, on a table-top. Now, I am not only willing to state, for the record, that I spoke to no one, about the weekend (in fact, no one even asked me) This is why, when Shiela came to me, mid-week, asking "WHO did you tell. You promised me. WHO did you tell?" When I asked "Tell WHO, about WHAT?" This is when Shiela told me "Okay, dont want to admit it. Want to play games." She, then, whispered "So can i." Standing so close that I could inhale her scent, Shiela took out my shaft, and began carressing it, even as I whispered "Be careful. We, still, want you." As she stroked me up, with one hand, her other hand found my shoulder, and "latched on" It was so beautiful that I lost all track of time, even as I slipped my hand into her pants, and, soon, both of our pants were around our ankles. When she whispered "Baby, you wouldn't dare." I slipped it into her, as she moaned. A moment later, our tongues were dancing and, thank god, the call did not come sooner. We, actually, made deeply passionate love, right there, "in public". It was afterward, when I throbbed, inside her, that she realized that I was telling the truth. Thankfully, her friends did not call, for her, until she had the chance to "collect" herself. Over the next two weekends, Shiela invited me over, to check her mail, for "important" stuff. The kind of mail which looks official, but, normally, isnt. Each saturday, after I told her which mail was important, we spent three hours, in bed. This was her way of saying "Thank You". Three hours, of pure Heaven. Three hours, of nursing those beautiful "B" cups. Three hours, DEEP, inside her body. Three, of the best hours that any saturday could contain. Still, there was the question, of WHO was "ratting us out". Who had motive, and opportunity. While I struck out, completely, it took Shiela just three weeks, to find the snitch. Since Shiela KNEW the woman was a lesbian, Shiela made her an offer. If the woman helped Shiela find the tattler, then Shiela would give the woman what she wanted. Turns out that the lesbian WAS the tattler. When Shiela asked "Why?" The woman would say "You ARE kidding, right?" When Shiela looked at the woman, the woman would say "Okay, girlfriend, but dont say I did not warn you." While Shiela listened, the woman told her "Girl, we can, all, see it. Every time you come out your door. We can tell, by that smile, that you got laid." When Shiela mentioned other men, the woman would say "Girl, I have not seen you this happy since high school let you drop out, on disability. Dont try to tell me that boy is not giving you all that you want." When Shiela would ask "Okay, so I like him. How much will silence cost?" Her friend would say "It will cost wo things. First, get off that "high horse, and admit that you love him." When Shiela would say "Fair enough". Her friend would say "Second, I want some of what you have been giving HIM. A man does not smile, like that, just from a hug, and a kiss." Shiela then spent four, LONG, hours, trying to give her friend a "taste" of what we shared. It was just so difficult, since the woman did not have a REAL shaft. After four hours, of effort, her friend said "Forget about number two. Its obvious that yours belongs to him." When the women stood up, naked, Shiela embraced the woman, kissed her, then whispered "I DO love him." Her friend said "No way, sister. That was a cop-out. I want you to admit it to our friends." When Shiela asked "At whose place?" Hre friend would ask "Wanda's place, tomorrow afternoon. Four o-clock." When Shiela asked "Anything else?", her friend would say "Get that man over here, and get LAID, as much as you can, before tomorrow afternoon." When Shiela asked "WHY?" Her friend would say "That will make it more believable." While Shiela did invite me over, it seems we lost track of time, making love, so deeply. By the time we took a break, and I remembered to ask her, Shiela smiled as she said "Right now, I dont CARE who knows." then kissed me, deeply. When Shiela next met, with her friends, the lesbian said "Okay, ladies, pay up!" The ladies doled out the cash. The next incident involved a mans shaft. Shiela thought hat she MUST have been sick, the day when a man forced her to suck his. She took it into her mouth, alright. She, then, bit it so hard, that the man wailed in pain. When Shiela departed the group, saying "I must be sick. I haven't done that since hat creep, in high school." Her friend, who had followed her, asked "Tell me, when was the last time you "tasted" your man." Shiela said "Last night", before even thinking. When her friend asked "I dont mean your "friend", I mean your man! You remember the one." Her friend noticed that Shiela had to think on that one. When Shiela asked "What should I do." Her friend said "If you think you are sick, invite that boy over, and give him every bit that you have." When Shiela would ask "What if I get sick, on him?" Her friend would say "In that case, head to bed, and rest." Her friend turned out to be correct. While the other mans shaft made Shiela feel like vomiting, she found that, with mine, she started with a kiss, and carress, then gave me two, Heavenly, blows. After that, the night was "lost" to passionate sex, and nursing. When I mentioned her other man, Shiela would say "He will call when he needs "some". Funny thing, though. When I saw him, next, he acted like he had NO woman. He was "on the prowl", looking for some. What I did not know, until later, was that, when Shiela saw him, all he said was "(get lost) you old crow. I need something fresh." That evening, Shiela rested, in my embrace, as I comforted her, promising her that I would remain by her side, until she found a new man. That was a promise, which would outlast four mattresses, seven sheet sets, and dozens of "dates", with "wannabe's". Shiela had heard every version, in the book. Everything from "I am just getting started", to "By my 35th birthday..." Shiela stayed with me since she KNEW I was working on my goals. Both in bed, and out. Best of all, I made her feel proud/happy, to be a woman. As for her friend, I encouraged Shiela to keep the friend around. Even if just for the memories, of the "old days". After all, the woman migh be a lesbian, but even lesbians have feelings. While we continued wearing ou mattresses, and sheet sets, Shiela kept going, with her search, for the "perfect" man. Problem was, the more time that passed, the less likely that she was, to even MEET him. It was at abbout this time, when Shiela found herself talking to people, not about her "Mr. Right", but about my plans, for expanding the United States. There were those, who wanted Americans o believe that my plan was to "import" more, cheap, labor. Shiela found herself countering this, with facts, more and more often. After all, who else could say "My man is looking to the nations future." Who else could say "My man is working to help America evolve." And evolve was just what the nation was doing. The United States had gone from fifty states, to fifty-seven states. More were petitioning. While Shiela had fantasized about a life of luxury, she had felt certain that it would come from "Conan". Not from a writer. Shiela never dreamed that catillions would result from people wanting to know more about me (and, as Shiela learned, about her, as well). While Shiela never thought that it would happen, this way, she did get her wish, to see Washington D.C. We were invited, to the capital, when the sixtieth state joined the union, and a new, if temporary, flag, rose on the flag pole. Shiela was trying to conceive how a man, who was more intellectual, than physical, could accomplish such a task. (Personally, I would have been THRILLED had I known how enraged my former in-laws were, at my achievements. I think I would have LAUGHED, had I known that, when students were studying American history, that parents pulled the young out of school, anytime my achievements were being lauded) Just dont ask me which fool suggested placing my face on a variety of monuments. What for? All I was doing was writing stories, and aiding my nation. I could think of thousands, of soldiers, who deserved recognition, more than I did. In order to cover more ground, Shiela agreed to serve as my "mouth-piece", at a variety of functions. This way, she could speak, at one location, while I spoke, at another. My opponents thought that they might have "had it made", since Shiela did have some past criminal records. With a bit of "doctoring", some one made it appear that Shiela had served time, at Shawshank. The actual prison. It was a good job, and might have, even, worked, except for one thing. Since Shiela knew how important the project was, to me, she insisted upon "transparency". SHE approved the release, of her court records. It worked, too. Once the truth hit the airwaves, the public was like "Who CARES what she did, in the PAST? We want to know about NOW." Add in the fact that Shawshank denied that females were ever inmates, and he opposition died away. While Shiela had, never, seriously, considered modelling, once she went "on the road", she found herself being dressed in the latest fashions. Soon, she was wearing jewelry, which only the rich wear, and she was replacing her public side walk "walk" with an uptown vibe. All of this, she was doing, while speaking of the benefits, of adding more states to the union. One, of he benefits, which Shiela never expected, was when the party took care of our state paper-work, for us. (Why not, they knew more than we did) While Shiela would, never, go down, in history, as America's First Lady, she would find herself being mentioned, much like Betsy Ross. That, and former First Lady, Dolly Madison. Two women, who had helped shape America's destiny. As our fame grew, Shiela and I asked about private tutoring, for a high school diploma. (Shiela would be the one to mention "As long as the teacher understands that I do not operate at warp speed") Surprisingly, the party had quite a number, of such tutors. It seems that tutors were proving in-valuable, in aiding people, in a variety of situations. While I was up, for testing, inside three months, I spent the next three months reviewing what I had learned, while Shiela worked toward the test. While, for most students, taking the final test, to qualify for graduation, was covered not just by drug testing, but by that "hammering-BANG", of the testing clock, our test master used a simple, digital, timer. As the test master said "DONT focus on how much time there is left. THAT is why so many students fail. Concentrate on the questions, and answers." Using this method, both Shiela and I completed the test, ahead of the deadline. Also, thanks to our doctors, drug testing would be waived, since the prescriptions, which we took, daily, would show up as street drugs. Upon OUR graduation, when the media asked our next move, I would consult Shiela, who would agree "Let us finish with state-hood, first. After that, we will decide on our next goal." While it was no ones fault, when Shiela fell ill, with a virus, and was given an antidote, the meds did eradicate the virus. Problem was, the anidote had an un-expected side effect. It rendered Shiela sterile. (Of course, I could name a medicine which, after just two doses, had ME in the E.R., with severe, stomach, cramps) A medic

THE PLAN

THE PLAN Or, should I say the "screw up". From the time when my plan began to replace the White Houses plan, for a new Berlin Wall, there was a "call", for "image". It had been a long haul, but, after Americans learned what a disaster the first Berlin Wall had been, for the Soviets, the decision, to build a wall, was scrapped. By the time people began asking about a plan "B", my own suggestion, about offering state-hood, was gaining support. As the party committee told me "The plan is sound, but we need a fresh, young, face, for the campaign." While MY choice, of a Latina side-kick would have been the radiant, and beautiful, Maria, the committee said "Sorry. We need YOUTH." THIS is how Consuella was chosen. Eighteen years old, with an innocent body, which almost "screamed" "I have potential". Light colored skin, small chest, long, wavy, hair, and maybe 5'4". Consuella was the type who was preparing for a life of modelling. While rumor held that Consuella had atleast fifteen, past, "lovers", there was no proof of this. From the moment, when Consuella was assigned to me, she was told that, at the proper times, we would have to hold hands, and so on. When she, outright asked "NO sex, right?" The committee promised "Only suggested". While Consuella did sign, she would prove worse than useless, as the project went forward. When people wanted to set appointments, with me, or review materials, Consuella could be located either in a tanning bed, or at pool side. She only answered calls, when she chose to. At the only interview, that she was allowed to give, Consuella's knowledge, of state-hood was limited to her own neighborhood. Her mistake was in saying "We need to take care of the "little people." After this, Consuella was told "Dont say a word, without party consent." While Consuella was relaxing, by pool side, I took Maria to lunch, mostly to ask her if such congestion was part of most projects. (I could not care, less, what her boyfriend thought. This wasn't a date.) After lunch, Maria began taking me through the process, of what a real project should look like. While, for weeks, Consuella had answerred such questions as "What does the man eat?" and she said "Ask HIM. I dont know." It was Maria, who began taking the questions. After all, while "teaching" me the process, of how state-hood would work, she took the time to learn my meds, foods, and schedule. While Consuella was swimming laps, in some billionairres pool, Maria was busy, making sure my schedule was set, right, and bugging me about taking proper meals. One day, when we were working on how to allow some Latino's to vote for state-hood, while part, of their region, was under violent, drug-lord, control, when Maria suggested I take a break, for dinner, for some reason, I suggested "I would rather have YOU, for dinner?" When Maria asked "Pardon me?", and I realized my words, I corrected myself, saying "I would love to sample you body, especially for dessert. IF you offered." Maria would say "We need to work on your opening lines." What surprised Maria was how, after some good food, I told her "I dont touch you until my hands, and mouth, are clean." I THINK we worked, til about one a.m., then went to her place, for an end of day drink. (I just did not know what Maria's idea of an "end of day" drink was.) By the next days, morning, meeting, Maria had me prepared for the presentation (even as the women, in the office, saw our smiles). For the first time, since entering the project, I felt comfortable, with my position. Not long, after this, staff members began liking it, more and more, when Maria was in charge of my day. Maria was Latina, but she had a real head on her shoulders. While Consuella remained the "pulic figure", the last person, to seek her advice, in regards to me, was the tailor, who made the most un-comfortable clothes that I had, ever worn. After the tailor spoke to Consuella, he came to Maria, to verify the information. Maria just laughed at the idea that I had a size fifteen waist. Her, yes. Me? No way. When Maria corrected the figures, the tailor had asked "IF I have further questions..." Maria had said "Its fine. Bring them to me." We had just figured out how to let people, in hostile area's, to vote when, as I was asked a question, and had to stop, and THINK of an answer, Maria was "on the ball", with an answer at hand. I think that the day, when Maria and I were happiest, was the day when area's 55-60 submitted state-hood petitions. This is the day when staff members began telling us "Your husband/wife is there.", and "Mr. H., Mrs. H. wants a moment of your time." Maria and I felt flattered, even though we laughed at the media's suggestion, that Consuella was our daughter. While Maria and I DID travel, south of the border, it was with full, party, approval. In fact, it was even with Vatican approval. This is because the holy church had sent priests to the lands, to spread the word, of the promise, of state-hood. It would seem that some Catholics wanted to hear from the United States. This is why, for three months, all of Maria's VISA restrictions were waived. After all, We WERE on "national business". Back, in the United States, there was more than a little "rumor", about what Maria and I were doing, at NIGHT. Were we, REALLY, working on national business, OR were we working on "personal". While we did a bit of both, I supported Maria's goal, of becoming a full American. She wanted a position, and a career, before she started a family. This is why we just did not mention, to church members, about birth control. By the end, of three months, Maria myself, and the holy church, had provided factual information. Information, which countered the crime-lords, and their propaganda, that America would INVADE the south, as we had, the Middle East. Crushing free thought, and bringing Christianity, at gun-point. By the time negotiations were concluded, three arch-bishops, and five cardinals, had visited the south. This after verifying that America had no plans to invade. The nation only wanted to provide state-hood, for those who wanted to become Americans. The time, when Maria and I, laughed, along with most of headquaters, was the day when Consuella was detained, by I.C.E., after visiting France, with a man, whose name I cannot pronounce. When Consuella insisted "If you are going to arrest ME, for leaving America, then you MUST arrest (Maria)." When the feds asked "On what charge?" Consuella insisted "SHE (Maria), left the United States, as well, AND for THREE MONTHS! I was gone only one week." It took Congress almost three days, to convince Consuella that Maria had a waiver, and was on national business. Consuella made a comment, about the "waiver", that Maria had, being retained in my pants. While the youth was being detained, Maria and I, along with the cardinals, verified that more people wanted to vote. In order to be safe, from guerilla attacks, however, the people wanted churches to be used, for voting. This since, supposedly, not even radicals would attack the House of the Lord. The Democratic Party agreed with the Vatican. The people would vote where they felt most safe. I just wish I knew WHO was spreading the LIE, claiming that, with state-hood, Latino's would come "pouring, across the border". In truth, all that would happen was that the stars and stripes would fly over their buildings, and they would use U.S. currency. That, and obey federal law. No one was talking about moving Latino's into the United States. The plan was to allow them to add their star, to our flag. Even as a sour-faced Consuella was being herded onto a train, for deportation, Maria and I were present, when states number 59 through 63, were, formally added to the nation. Maria was happy, at this time, but, just a month, before, she had jumped into my arms, and kissed me, when her OWN land had been accepted, for state-hood. Now, Maria was American, as was her family. No more immigration forms, or special permissions, to travel home. By the time the "flames", of change, began to flicker out, the Stars and Stripes was flying over all-except for three , small, areas, of South America. As an un-expected side-effect, of this, Maria and I found ourselves being stationed, in the new states. Our task was "simple." We were to oversee the preservation of the Maya, and Inca, ruins. U.A.V.'s would be used, to map, and photograph, the original condition, of the ruins. After that came the picks, shovels, and hoses. While Maria kept alive the hope that, eventually, she would be "blessed", with motherhood, she ended up being more of a combination of supervisor, and tour guide. While Maria was occupied, with these duties, I used my time, and talent, to record, as correctly as possible, all of the stories, tales, and so on, from these ancient lands. These tasks, we undertook, even as a Democratic president took over the nation, and was busy repairing the damage done, by an "illiterate" "president". (A man with NO political background) Now, however, the job had grown even LARGER. This, since the nation had grown from fifty states, to 95 states.

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF THUNDER ROAD

THE HAUNTING PAST: THE MYSTERY OF THUNDER ROAD PROLOGUE: In the 1950's, groups, of teenage hot rodders, would be modifying their cars, to be the fastest thing on the road. In most, such, races, the winner, of the illegal drag races, would win the car title, of the losers car. In a "special event", however, the leaders, of the various, car, clubs, would have come up with an idea, which would win wide-spread support. The idea would be, for a single drag, set up like the Indy 500. Due to the tightness, of the course, however, only two cars could race, side by side. This is why a new rule would be adopted. The winner would NOT be the FIRST car, over the drag line, but the car, with the fastest lap. The rules were simple. The driver, of the fastest car, would be allowed to choose any car, that he wanted, and it would be his. The same, with the rest of the cars. Winners had choice. Losers would walk home. With the ladies watching, from the embankment, and timers, at both ends of the course, the engines would rev, and drivers would prepare for the drag of their lives. When the signal was given, the cars sped out, all trying for first place. Only three cars engines sputtered, and died. The drivers were declared "Dis-Qualified, due to engine trouble" Still, the timers, and the crowd, watched, as the cars tore up the "raceway", vanishing into the night, except for tail lights. Maybe five minutes after the lights vanished, the starting line would call the finish line, asking "When are you going to tell us who won?" When the finish line would respond "Win what? We are, still, waiting for the first car. Where did they go? Stop off for a beer?" After half an hour, of waiting, both ends began to investigate the "raceway", thinking that the drivers were down. Even when start and finish met in the middle, there was no sign of the dragsters. No fuel vapors. No skid marks. Cars and drivers, were gone, period. This left the un-answered question of "WHERE did they go?" Over the following years, a wide variety, of witnesses, would report witnessing the passage, of the racers, along the original route. No matter how often the local police would stake-out the passage, however, the dragsters only seemed to appear to those who had no knowledge, of the "vanishing act". Naturally, once the teens were listed as "Missing", for twenty-four hours, All Points Bulletins had gone out. The year, when the raceway should have been closed, permanently, was 1963. This was the year when an environmental activist group began collecting samples, of motor oil, and transmission fluid, from the "raceway". The environmental group had been "radical", in its demands, for good reason. When the space was not being used, as a raceway, it was used to divert rainfall from the city, running an un-obstructed line, directly to the river. A river, which fed the local water department. The environmentalists had filed a petition, demanding that the water supply be tested. No one had been more shocked, than the supervisor of the water works, when the results came in. Not only were the ratio's, of motor oil about four times higher than allowable, by law, but so was the amount of transmission fluid. What caused the city to close down the duct, until further notice, was the fact that the tests showed the presense of lead. Lead, in enough concentrations, to make adults ill, as well as damage childrens developing brains. While the city was certain that the motor oil, and transmission fluid, were being illegally dumped, just to avoid processing charges, what concerned everyone was the presense of the lead. Since lead had been declared a toxic substance, no one sold lead, anymore. This is why, in 1963, the duct had been closed down, with the entrance walled off, with a concrete barrier. Over the years, since 1963, the government had spoken of everything from toxic waste clean-up, to simply pouring a new floor, over the toxins, then, once dry, re-opening the duct. From what Tami and I were lead to understand, even as sightings continued, so did the presense, of the toxins. While there was wide-spread suspicion, in the sixties, seventies, and eighties, that modern dragsters might be cutting holes in the chain link fences, then using the duct, for more races, property inspections showed no damage. Yet, despite decades, of security, and observation, the sightings continued, as did the appearances of lead. One police officer, who was, promptly, fired, had suggested that the TYPE of lead made him wonder if the presense of lead, were the result of dragsters crowding, and bumping, one another. When asked just HOW the cars made it through the concrete barrier, the officer had said "I am just making an observation". Since the chief of police did not want such talk, around town, the officer was fired. According to the case-file, beginning in the late 1970's, locals reported the possibility that dragsters were following them, from various businesses, to their homes. One womans complaint, that a 50's dragster had sat across from her house, on four, consecutive, nights, would have been ruled a "crank/lonely", but only until a neighbor verified that atleast one of the men, in the dragster, looked just like Fonzie, from Happy Days. When the police joked "Let me guess. The other one looked like Richie Cunningham." The witness would say "Most certainly NOT! The other boy looked like James Dean!" When the police chief got the report and asked "Richie Cunningham? Fonzie? James Dean? Dragsters? You expect me to file this?" The officers would say "That is what the witnesses said." The chief of police was prepared just to shred the reports, atleast until after his shift was over, a few weeks later. The chief would report "Sighted dragster, in parking lot of local grocery store. Would not have paid it any attention, since local kids are into nostalgia, except for the fact that the two occupants seemed to be watching the store, as if on stake-out." While I was hungry, for some Hungry Man dinners, I decided that dinner could wait, just long enough to find out what the draggers were doing. For reasons I wont pretend to understand, I watched as Miss Agnes Johnson emerged from the store, with her groceries, entered her car, without a fuss yet, just as she keyed her ignition, so, to did the draggers. This is why I decided that Hungry Man could wait. As silently as possible, I slid into "line", behind Miss Johnson's car, and the dragster, and followed them to the womans home. At her home, all three of us watched the young woman enter her house. Now, my belly might have been un-settled, but I would swear, on a Bible, that the draggers did a hand-clap, inside their car. When they pulled away, from the Johnson home, I decided to have a talk, with them. Didn't turn on my lights, until we were out of the residential area. I know it will sound impossible but, after I turned on my lights, and the dragster turned a corner, I turned, preparing to stop, behind the dragster, yet found nothing but empty air, in front of me. In just two seconds, flat, car, and occupants, were gone. When a slow cruise, of the area, turned up nothing, the police chief returned to the store, then drove to his own place. While the chief might have wanted to station more cruisers, throughout town, the limited size of both the city, and his force, made this impossible. While the police force did its best, in taking reports, fom witnesses, this just didn't seem to have the desired effect. The "straw", which caused the police chief to call in the Brown Agency, was the fact that persons, unknown, were using the legend, of the missing drivers, to cause property damage. The vandals were "good", too. Using cars, similar to the dragsters (only with silenced exhaust), the dragsters had begun ripping up the lawns, of certain properties. One neighbor reported that, one evening, while a family was away, that the dragster backed onto the lawn, and someone, described as "Looking similar to James Dean", got out of the car, wound some chains around porch pillars, then the dragster "burned rubber", taking the porch out, with it. Since the chief KNEW what would happen, if the state, or federal, police got involved, the chief asked an old friend, for an introduction. This is how Tami and I got involved. In the police chiefs "official" report, the events were believed to be the work of copy-cats. Why else use 1950's clothes, cars, and so on? Since the main topic, of concern, was the duct/raceway, Mr. Black had sent a team, just to re-verify the substances, found on the floor, of the duct. Mr. Black would submit a report, asking "Why would anyone go to the trouble, of using modern ingredients to create oil, and transmission fluid, of a type, not used in decades?" Based upon the paint shavings, Mr. Black would suggest "The best alternative is that someone is, intentionally, adding high doses, of lead, to the paint the cars are using. For some reason, they want us to THINK that the paint is old." As for the list, of suspects, everyone, on the police list, had been reported missing, since the night of the big drag. Even if the drivers were no more than sixteen, on the night in question, we were looking at between 70, and 85 years ago. As for the reason why the case was listed as "un-solved", over the years, the reason was simple. Neither cars, wreckage, nor bodies, had been discovered. (Some fans, of science fiction television, suggested that the cars might have driven through a portal, to another dimension.) A local church was promising that, since the drivers were young, and without any, real, sin, on their hearts, that the Divine had called them to Heaven. The question, which this did not answer, was "Even if the Divine called the souls to Heaven, would the Divine take the cars, as well?" What use would a dragster be, in Heaven? These, and other questions, were the reason why Mr. Brown accepted the case. While Mr. Brown would tell us "Dont get your hopes up. This might be nothing more than human grand-children, trying to "play" dragster." When Tami would ask "IF it is the spirit world?" Mr. Brown would say "Normal, investigation procedure." During G.S. 2's flight, to the case location, Tami and I noted just how long the town seemed "frozen, in time". The police cruisers had no video equipment, nor laptop computers. In fact, the police cars retained Citizen Band (C.B.) Radio. There was no video monitoring, of traffic flow, and, IF the file was correct, the street lights still used incandescent bulbs. It was a good thing that our pilots had adopted the policy of landing, at night. In the day time, our plane COULD be mistaken for an attack craft. (The same concern the Soviets had, when G.S. 2 touched down, on Soviet soil, to investigate sightings, of Czar Nicholas 2.) Of course, the discretion, of "hiding" G.S.2 was only "Round One", of this case. According to the print photo's, in the case file, either the photos, of local transportation, were decades out of date, or people retained use, of 1950's, and 60's, automobiles. This would mean that our new century automobiles would "stick out", like a battleship. Only my coaster bicycle would fit in with this towns transportation. It would seem that, by the time, when we arrived, that the police chief was not only continuing his own investigation, but had arranged a meeting, between us, and the towns record keeper. The reason: While the dragsters remained under cover, of darkness (probably to avoid easy identification), more reports were coming in, of dragsters, containing only a single occupant, and asking directions, to businesses. When Tami would ask "What is so suspicious about people asking directions?" The records keeper would look at the chief of police, who would say "You have to understand. This town is very old, and it has deep roots." When Tami would ask "How deep?" The police chief would say "The dragsters ask for directions, to stores, whose owners, and names, have changed, many times, over the years." When Tami would ask "Such as?" The police chief would say "In some cases, the drivers ask where grocery stores are. In other cases, the question is "Where is the gas station?" It would be me who would say "Lets cut to the chase. WHO are these dragsters looking for?" The police chief would, hesitantly, say "Bentleys garage WAS on Sommerset Road, originally. Great garage, good gas, and a candy counter, for us kids. I only remember it when I think of days gone by." When Tami would ask "You say that Bentleys garage WAS located on Sommerset Road. Where is it, now?" The police chief would yield to the historian, who would say "As near as the records show, Bentleys garage began as a repair shop, in the horse and buggy days. Since Mr. Bentley was un-sure of if the gasoline powered transports were just a passing fad, he kept half of his stalls, for carriages, and only converted half, for the new automobiles. As more cars, then trucks, began coming to his shop, he converted all but one stall, to motor vehicles. When Mr. Bentley passed away, his son took over the business. By the time the chief, here, began visiting the garage, with his own father, the son was aging, and looking for someone to take over the garage." When Tami asked ""Why didn't his OWN son take over, for him?" the records keeper would say "The young Bentley wanted "more/different", out of life. This is why he took his savings, and enrolled in engineering school." The police chief would say "Mr. Bentley sold the garage to Carl Clank. A "shade-tree" mechanic. I think that is, still, the word for them." The police chief would add "Clank sold the original garage location, and moved it into his own garage. Maybe eight blocks from Mr. Bentley's location." Tami would suggest "Something tells me that it does not end there." The records keeper would say "You are quiet correct. Carl ran the shop right "into the ground". He thought that people would just wait, until he finished repairing cars. When they didn't, he told them to ""Go somewhere else. They did". Yeah, they went to Coyote Joe. A man who had been doing spot automotive repairs since anyone, alive, can remember. When Tami would ask "Where did Coyote Joe move the repair place to?" The Chief would say "To a warehouse. A place built, to store lead ore, back when this place was just a road-side ore processing plant. Once the lead went away, the warehouse was sold to a meat packing company. They scrubbed out all of the lead, and processed meat, until another company bought the property. Gave Coyote Joe a check, for $300,000." The chief would say "Since then, the warehouse has been used to store everything from car parts, to plumbing supplies. Anything you can name has been stored, there, from time to time." When Tami would ask "Any other locations, with such an interesting history?" The chief no-sooner said "Well..."" when the records keeper would say "The grocery store, which the dragsters reportedly ask about. It was in business from about 1945, to about 1965." When Tami would suggest "Mighty SHORT life span, for a town, of this size." The records keeper would say "Young woman, you miss understand. I said the store, that the drivers ASK about was only in business, for about twenty years. I never said it was the ONLY store." When Tami would say "Let me guess. It started out as a general store. Providing supplies for new arrivals. Over time, as the railroad came through, followed by the highways, the general store evolved into a grocery store. Maybe even a laundromat, as well." This is when the chief of police, and the records keeper, would fill in the "enormous HOLES", in Tami's tale. The store had been everything from a general store, to a Dixie Queen, Piggly Wiggy, Thompsons Food Basket, and others. Name changed about every ten, to twenty, years. While the store remained in the same location, nowdays, it was a ShopSmart. The chief even recalled his own, favorite, business. The now vastly out-of-date service center. The chief actualy smiled as he recalled "I remember being a young man, Driving into the station, while the crew checked my car. I didn't even have to leave my car, if I wanted anything. Those were the days, when service meant FULL service." When Tami would ask "Chief, if you believe that these are just high schoolers, then HOW could modern day kids know about what life was like nearly a century ago?" The records clerk would add "That is a very good question. I have even checked the records logs, to see if anyone has been doing research, on the area. Problem is, with sightings going as far back to the 1960's, we are at a loss." This is when a call came in, over the radio "Chief, unit four here." When the chief picked up the microphone, saying "Chief here. Whats up?" The caller seemed to be whispering, as he asked "Do you know if there is supposed to be a dragster, parked across the street, from the station." When the chief said "Not that I know of, why? What is it doing?" Unit four would say "Chief, it seems to be watching your office." A moment later, and unit four would report "Chief, that dragster is revving up its engine." Even as the chief yelled "Everybody DOWN!", and the entire, small, police station, fell to the floor, the place was filled with the ROAR, of a heavily-modified dragster. A moment after this, it felt like a tornado had ripped through the station. The space was tossed, like a tornado wind, even as the noise, of the dragster, ROARED. What I noticed, during the incident, was how the wind felt like what I rememberred in the days before air conditioning became standard, in cars. The feel of the wind, as the car drove by. Inside the police station, it felt like I was riding inside a dragster, with its top down. Papers, files, and office supplies, just went flying. Then, as the roar continued, I smelled a very familiar scent. That of gasoline. It was like I was standing over an engine, which was being tuned. It was not until a few moments after the engine noise died away, that the chief heard unit four calling: Base, this is unit four. If you can hear me, you wont believe what I just saw." When the chief keyed the microphone, asking "Unit four. WHAT did you see?" Unit four would say "The dragster. It began pouring out thick, dark, smoke, even as its engine revved." When the chief asked "Where is it, now?" Unit four would say "Thats what I mean. The car was sitting, in front of us, then it revved its motor, and produced a cloud of choking vapor." When the chief said "Never mind that. Where is it, now?" Unit four would say "Thats the trouble, chief. It vanished, inside the exhaust." Shortly after this, unit three would call in, saying "Suspect vehicle proceeding down Thunder Road, far in excess of speed limit." When the chief would ask "Unit three, can you intercept?" Unit three would reply "We dont even know they got down there." When the chief returned to his desk, and Tami asked "Thunder Road? Where is that?" The chief would say "Its a water diversion canal, designed to keep the city from flooding. All excess water is supposed to flow there." When Tami who, like myself, had watched many a dragster movie, asked "Are we talking about a waterway, being used as a drag-strip?" The chief would say "Maybe 75 years ago. Local history says there are, maybe, 100 demolished racers, in there." When Tami would ask "Why did unit three decline to pursue?" The chief would say "To our knowledge, all entrances, and exists, have been blocked, for decades. We dont even know HOW the cars get on Thunder Road." When Tami saw the chief looking about his small station, she told him "Relax. They are just letting us know that they know that WE are here." After the police chief all-but BEGGED us to find some answers, Tami set off, for the Hall of Records. She wanted to find any connection between the dragsters, and those they were following. While Tami did this, I would set out, to find more information on this Thunder Road, and more about the modern dragsters. It would turn out that the whole town knew about Thunder Road. The drags, winners and losers. It was when the question became "If it were you, how would you access Thunder Road?" Either people were just playing dumb, or they, truly, had no idea how to access the roadway. In fact, when asked how the environmentalists accessed the "road", a local, boom, operator would admit that he lowered the groups members over the barriers, to collect their samples. When I asked if the boom could handle a car, the operator hooked onto a nearby car, then kicked the diesel engine, of his truck, into high gear. While the boom DID lift the car, the noise was incredible. When my hearing returned, the boom operator asked "How can anyone, in town, miss that much noise?" My question, as well. Tami, it would seem, had far better luck than I did. While the young dragster owners admitted that they would LOVE access to Thunder Road, no one had a clue of how to do so, without making enough noise to wake the dead. Between visiting the Hall of Records, and her un-restricted computer access, aboard G.S.2, Tami began building a "history" of the town. A history, which even the Records Keeper had never considered. Now, sure, everyone, in town, knew which properties, that certain families had owned, since the area was founded, Tami would spend her time building a time-line, not just of "Those who Stayed", but of those, who left town, and whose families only returned when hearing of jobs, or to settle accounts. In her daily reports, to the Brown Agency, Tami began building such a comprehensive case that Mr. Blue, Mr. Black, and even Jackson, joined in the search. Mr. Brown was thrilled when Jackson agreed to join the research, since Jackson had plenty of previous knowledge, both of automobiles, and how to overcome barriers, without leaving any evidence behind. Jacksons past would prove in-valuable, in aiding the resolution of the case. While Tami, and the "gang", were working the towns past, I was left to contact local, and regional, paint manufacturers. Time after time, any company I visited. When asked about lead paint, all insisted "We would lose our license, if we sold lead paint. It is not only illegal, but deadly poisonous." When I asked "Do you know of anyone who MIGHT be willing to add lead, to paint, to make it APPEAR real?" I was reminded that a company could lose its operating license, if the feds even SUSPECTED lead tampering. While the paint companies were adamant, about the quality, and ingredients, used in making paint, the modern day draggers did admit to adding vodka, to gasoline. While some of the draggers were under legal age, they admitted that adding vodka to gasoline, gave engines more power. (One, retired, dragger, even boasted of the fact that, as a young man, he, often ran his car either on vodka, or on moon-shine, when he could get some.) When I asked the draggers about lead paint, all seemed in agreement. Lead was a heavy substance, which would weigh a car down. This is why no one used lead, anymore. Lighter base paint meant more speed. As for Tami, she got used to spending much time, either with old, dusty, journals, or sifting information, from databases. What my partner found shocked very few people, in town. Sometimes, a family left town, for three, four, even five, generations, before returning. Some of those, who came to town, did not even know that ancestors came from this city. These people included the librarian, a store clerk, garage mechanic, and dozens, of other people. In fact, it was not long before Tami could report, to Mr. Brown: "We have a connection, between the dragsters, which are following, and those they are following. IF our information is correct, the dragsters are following the grand-children, of those who turned the dragsters in, almost a century ago." It seems that the grand-father, of the garage mechanic, had turned in some draggers, after his son was run over, during an un-announced drag. Thankfully, the victim had been a sports star, and had excellent reflexes. When the cars bore down, on him, the athlete did a high jump, and the car caught his legs, instead of his torso. The athlete had suffered multiple fractures, of both legs, and been in-valided out of the schools varsity program. Since this meant no college scholarship, the students father had turned the draggers in, with each serving two years, under juvenile sentencing. Three, local, boys, had been sentenced, as adults, after they got so drunk, at a party, that they RIPPED their dates clothes off. When the girls tried to defend themselves, the boys switched from wanting sex, to wanting "revenge". NO woman was saying "NO", to these guys. Not without consequences. While it turns out that the boys were so drunk that they did not even remember the night, there were plenty of witnesses, and plenty of blood samples. The boys were convicted, as adults, and spent five years in prison. Victims had left town, to avoid being "labelled", and had not returned. Their descendants had, but the victims hadn't. Then there was the chief of police, himself. A man who had, "somehow" known that the dragster would tear into his police station. Tami learned the HOW, and WHY, from the towns history. Old newspaper headlines spoke of a time, decades ago, when a group, of bully drag racers, took up the challenge, of "raiding" public events. Church gatherings, and holidays, seemed to be the draggers favorites. They LOVED to plow through events, making people run for their lives. (This, while the draggers, reportedly, laughedd, out loud, at their prey.) The chief of police had been a young man at the time when the draggers raced through some sort of "revival" meeting. Then, a young boy, barely into his teens, he had watched, from behind a barrier, as the drag racer drove across church property, and its racers laughed, as victims ran for cover. According to the follow up reports, everyone, at the meeting, reported that, before the attack, the dragster had revved its engine, while its occupants gave church goers and "evil" smile. Based upon the pictures, that she found, with the articles, Tami understood why the chief had ordered everyone, in the station, down. The dragster had made several passes, opver the churches land, and only departed when the loone, policce cruiser, which was on duty, at the time, came "calling", lights flashing and siren blaring. The ONLY reason why the dragster got away from the police was that the police cruiser was built to be as quiet as possible, in residential area's. By contrast, the dragster was built for pure speed. While Tami checked the records, several times, she found noo evidence beyond the fact that police had chased the car as far as possible, then gave up, when they lost sight of the dragster. While a warrant was issued, the next day, Tami could find no record of the dragster EVER returning. What Tami found of great concern, was the fact that, on the night, of the "Great Drag", and in the following days, nothing, of the drivers, nor cars, had been found. Except for gasoline fumes, motor oil, and paint shavings, from where cars "bounced" off one another, there was nothing to show what became of the dragsters. In her report, to the Brown Agency, Tami would state "While test results are in-conclusive, I believe that this is due to the lack, of modern day test techniques. No one "shirked" their duty. They just did not have the resources, which we have, today." While I struck out, with the dragsters, it would be when Jackson arrived, that answers would be forth-coming. Answers, such as a hidden entrance to the duct/road. An entrance, which only a master thief, such as Jackson, would know to look for. While Jackson found the entrance, when Mr. Black asked "HOW, and WHY, would dragsters use oil, and transmission fluid, from decades ago?" Jackson would say "I did my part. I found the entrance. You can handle the rest." Jackson, however, did not depart, especially after he heard that the racers were bumping, and scratching, their cars, on the concrete sides, of the waterway. When Jackson would ask "Who would be dumb enough to bash their expensive paint jobs, by scarping the walls of the duct?" When Tami reminded us, all, of the race scene, from Grease, and about the racer, who enjoyed "chewing up" other drivers race cars, Jackson would remind my partner "That was a movie. That race was staged, for audience attention. REAL racers would never pull such stunts. The repair costs would wipe out a drivers savings." When I would point to the duct, saying "Yet, THERE is the evidence." Jackson remained to be convinced. By the time Mellissa Anderson brought her professional driving team, to town, Tami had traced even MORE of the towns history. Tami had even traced which of the dragsters had worked, as teens, at various businesses. More, importantly, she learned not only who had been hired, but who had been FIRED, as well. Most of the teens worked, for local businesses, but only until the price, of car parts, exceeded what employers were willing to pay. When workers began asking for advances, and pay increases, they had been dis-charged. Thunder Road had become the boys primary source, for car parts. When Tami submitted her daily report, to the Brown Agency, even Mr. Brown agreed with her findings. The dragsters were not just staying, to continue racing. They were staying on, for some sort oof "revenge", against those whom, the dragsters, FELT had done them wrong. The problem was that, if the dragsters were after former employers, and their families, then the dragsters were caught in an endless cycle. After all, those, who had been middle aged, in the 1950's, would be DEAD, in the modern day. As for the dragsters, which were doing the modern day damage, once Mellissa Anderson set up her teams, around town, it was easy to learn the truth. After all, as bizzarre as it sounds, even on digital pictures, camera's just did not have the visual range, of thee human eye. While three, of Mellissa's drivers WATCHED, as property was damaged, when the footage was run, through diagnostics, all that showed was a black mass, pulling close to each target, then pulling away. The torn up lawns were the result of the spirits, digging their spiritual wheels into reality, just enough to do damage. When Mr. Brown would ask Tami "Now that we know that we are dealing with spirits, what kind of time-line are we looking at, for case resolution?" While the very idea, of spirits, turned the Negro, Jackson, pale, it would be Mellissa Anderson who would suggest "Sir, first we need to find someone, who WANTS to make contact. It would be a horrible mistake just to walk onto Thunder Road and ask "Who wants to talk?"" When Mr. Brown would look at Tami, asking "Your thoughts?" Tami would say "I agree. Spirits dont make contact, on OUR terms. THEY set the terms. We wait for them." When Mr. Brown would ask "What about the full moon?" Mr. Black would say "Thirteen days to go. We are at the opposite end of the calendar, right now." When Mr. Brown would ask "Have you discovered in WHAT way that the vandalism is connected with Thunder Road?" Tami would say "I dont think that it is. Thunder Road is a place where drivers pit skills against one another. This, other, group. They seem to be involved, just for the thrill of scaring humans." Mr. Brown would say "Two groups, you say. Does that mean double the work?" Tami would say "I am afraid so." Mr. Brown would mention "I would be willing, under other conditions, to instruct you to handle the vandals, first, then go after Thunder Road. The problem, right now, however, is that a community needs its water supply. Their emergency reserve is down to 25%. If they cannot begin collecting water, again, soon, they will have to PAY to have water imported." When Mr. Black would ask "If these racers are spirits, then HOW can their cars be polluting the waterway?" Even Jackson agreed that this did not make sense. This is when Mr. Black had an idea. "What if we brought in a power wash unit, and scrubbed the waterway down, with ammonia, and bleach?" Mr. Brown would say "It would be expensive, however, let me speak to the mayor. Maybe I can recommend that a power-wash would be more cost effective, than shipping in water." Mellissa Anderson would ask "How will any of this aid us, with the phantom dragsters?" Tami would suggest "IF the cars are phantoms, as well, then the power-wash will wash away any residue." Mr. Brown would say "Let me get started on the offer. You should have an answer, by tomorrow afternoon." Still, neither Tami, nor I, could answer Mellissa Andersons question, about what to do, with the dragsters. After all, if a spirit is doing what they love, telling them to "take a hike", would be as insultive as a stripper, at a childs birthday party. Tami knew what was needed. The question was "How LONG would it take to find a spirit, which was willing to both communicate, and cooperate?" (If only Mother Superior would show herself.) While Mellissa Anderson had the idea that, if she, and one, fellow, driver, entered the Thunder Road races, Mellissa thought that she could win the dragsters acceptance. Maybe, they would talk to us, this way. Just one problem. While Mellissa Anderson joined some of the drags, she noticed how odd it was. starting with cars in front of, and behind her, and the other driver, yet, at just a short distance from the start line, the modern day drivers found themselves all alone. (WHERE had the other drivers gone?) It was not until Tami began really DIGGING into the events, of the BIG DRAG, that we began to find a solution, to the questions, at hand. While Tami could find no absolute proof, what she DID find was that, before the BIG DRAG, some semi's had been hired, for an "un-specified" load. For some reason, some extra long conveyor belts, and rigging, had been rented, by someone who paid cash. When I made the joke, asking "What did they do? Have the dragsters drive into the rear, of the semi's, then turn over the keys?" Tami would ask "Have you got a better idea?" While the chief was un-certain of HOW such trucks could be hidden, during the day, then rolled out, at night, without anyone noticing, the question the chief was stuck with was "Eveen if the cars were stolen, and re-sold, WHAT did the thieves do, with the drivers? The department had notices out, within hours." Tami would say "Correction. Under the OLD law, police were required to wait, for 24 hours, before declaring anyone missing." When the chief would ask Tami "Young lady, just how FAR do you think a 1950's semi could drive, in 24 hours?" When Tami would say "I have no idea. I was not born, then." The chief would say "Given the load, which dragsters would weigh, there was no WAY that the semi's could have missed the road-blocks. Not with fulll loads." I would suggest "Not until the drivers were dumped, alone the way." When the chief would say "Sir, explain that." I would say "Its just a thought but what would happen if the thieves DUMPED, as in killed, the draggers, and just kept the cars." The chief no-sooner growled "Impossible! All cars have keys. It would take DAYS to jack all of the starters." Tami would ask "Guys, what if the thieves did not KILL the draggers. What if they HID the drivers, instead?" The chief would ask "WHERE? We searched this whole county, from one side to the other. Never found any evidence." When Tami asked "Are you SURE that you looked every place?" This is when a deputy came to the chief, saying "We didn't check every place." When the chief asked "What do you mean?" The deputy would say "The lead ore mine." The chief would say "We did not need to check that place. Its been boarded up since the ore ran out. There has been a shield door, there, since I can remember." The deputy would mention "My father said that, when he was young, grandpa told stories, about him and his friends, playing, in the mine, as children, then making the mine seem haunted, every Halloween. When the chief asked "Just HOW did they get past that barrier door?" The deputy would say "MY grand-father says that, in those days, there was no door." It was shortly after the chief would say "I will contact the county judge, and get a search warrant." When Tami asked "How long?" The cheif would say "By morning." This is when Tami looked at thee calendar, and knew that our next, seven day, full moon, was at hand. If we wanted answers, from the dead, this was our chance. It was outside oof the police station that, after sunset, a young man, dressed, and looking, like James Dean, appearred, saying "Be careful in the old mine. That place is dangerous. Weak beams, hollow floors, falling parts." When I asked "Air quality?" "James Dean" would say If you dont stir the dust, then you should be fine. I give you this caution, though." When Tami would ask "What caution would that be?" "James Dean" would say "Br prepared for what you find. You wont like it." Even as Tami was asking "WHAT will we find?" "James Dean" would say "Heed the warning." With that, the young man would dissolve. Neither of us spoke to the police. Not until we arrived, at the mine. It seems that the reason why we were required to wait until eleven A.M. was because the current owner did not want to pay for a replacement lock. This is why the foreman spent his morning, searching for a key, no one had seen, in decades. "James Dean" was right, however. The mine was about as "safe" as a nuclear reactor. It, also, did not take long to find out the reason why the trucks were, never, stopped at the road-bocks. After the foreman opened the outer door (which sqeeked, like a siren), we had walked maybe a quarter of a mile, when "James Dean" appearred, before us, and the chief had to "SHH!" a deputy, as "James Dean" reminded us "Prepare yourselves for what you are about to see." When our group members began asking one another "Was that, really...HIM?!!" The chief would say "Only one way to find out." With that, the chief lead the way, forward. "James Dean" had been right. When we found what might have been a "lounge", we found not bodies, but body parts. Heads, arms, legs, and torso's, all looking like they had been ripped apart. Thankfully, after so many decades, anything, not eaten, by animals, had mummified. (It would take dental records to learn each victims identity.) While we pondered the reason WHY anyone would do such a thing, a deputy called out, from a side chamber. When we joined the deputy, we understood what he saw. This chamber was a "chop-shop". When the chief asked "These tunnels are to thin, for anything wider than an ore cart. HOW did they get the cars in. While most of us looked about the floor, and walls, it seems that one deputy looked UP, saw some rope, hanging from the ceiling, and asked "I wonder what this does?" Since the rope was tight, the chief had a total, of three deputies, HAUL the line loose. To everyones disbelief, what appearred was not a hatch, on a spring. It was a hand-powered elevator. Big enough for cars. (No wonder the cars had, never, been located). Based upon a review, of the mine, it was suggested that the bodies were in some kind of prison, while the cars were altered, enough, to be resold. While back, at city hall, the sheriff had hoped to learn the identity of, and arrest the owner, who had stolen the cars, and murdered the young men. Just one problem. The trucking business, which leased the trucks, was out-of-business, 25 years ago. Owner died, of heart attack. When the chief tried to locate the locals, for artrest and prosecution, all roads lead to the cemetary. Even the chief admitted attending some of the funerals. Well, after over 75 years, the criminals had escaped justice (or had they?) It was not until the police chief was ready to turn in his badge, for FAILING to serve his community, that Mother Superior would appear, saying "My son, you did the best with what you had to work with. NO one can fault you, for that." When the chief looked at the nun, saying "They got away with murder, AND car theft." Mother Superior put on her ALL-KNOWING smile, as she would say "I wouldn't say that." When the chief looked confused, the enforcer demon would appear, asking "Did I miss the fun?" Mother Superior would say "I was about to send for you. Would you do the honor of making your report, to the police chief?" The enforcer demon would say "I would be delighted, sister." (Tami and I would think "Oh, brother! HOW can good and evil, work together, so casually?") When the deputy would say "Come on, SPILL! What has become of the thieves, and murderers?" The enforcer demon would say "They are in the most capable hands, of my master. The Lord has dercreed a 3,000 year sentence, in Hell, for their actions." When Tami would look at Mother Superior, the nun would say "Quite correct. Most began serving their sentences 15 years ago. The others have joined, about 10 years ago." When Mother Sperior saw Tami's look, the nun reminded my partner "Remember that, like your worlds "super-powers", Our Lord has a direct line, to Lucifer. Just as a precaution." When Tami asked about the motor oil, transmission fluid, and the lead, on Thunder Road, Mother Superior would say "Yes, your motor vehicles do tend to leak, especially when undeer pressure." The enforcer demon would add "The lead paint you have been finding. That was my doing." When the police chief would ask "May I ask why?" The demon would say "It took you over 75 YEARS to bring justice. When your department failed bring the guilty to justice, after just five years, I received permission to begin leaving clues. Clues, which the police over-looked, in their zeal, to close the case." When Tami would ask "What about the phantom racers, at Thunder Road?" The enforcer would smile at my partner, saying "Nice touch, wasn't it? Broguht the two of you racing in, to do a job, the police gave up on, decades ago. Now the survivors can rest in peace, as will SOME the of deceased." Final case note: I find it HARD to believe that either Heaven, or Hell, would put on such a "show" just to bring us into an investigation. It would seem that, once the bodies, and the chop-shop, were located, proper funerals were held, and question marks were removed from headstones. The discoveries also meant that the enforcer demon could send the racers souls, back to their rest, as well. Even I could not believe how far the supernatural was willing to go, in order to bring closure, to the survivors. As Tami and I reported that we were available, for our next case, Mr. Brown would show us the $50,000 post, to our expense account. No names were listed, but Tami and I KNEW who sent each half, of the payment. Before signing off, Mr. Brown would ask "If you have time, I want you to check into a new case file. I need to know if the agency should devote any resources, to the case. I will expect your review, within 36 hours." With that the screen went black, and our pilot called "Lifting off". Yes, off to the next mystery...