Abigail’s face had turned a bit dark. “I would probably be dead if not for your sister. I was…violent, a danger to the other personnel. Shannon got in my face, calmed me down a bit. I owe her my life.”
Pam had suddenly hugged her. “We are family. My mother adopted you as another daughter, as everyone should have a mother. Family saves family. That is the way it is.”
“That in no way changes the chance she took. I could’ve killed her, killed them all. From what I have been told, I was an engine of destruction.”
“Ichiro knows all the details?”
“Yes, Pam. He says he can help me to learn to control, to channel this level of violence. Ichiro said he was a bit out of control when he was growing up, possibly due to radiation-tweaked DNA. Similar to how I seemed to have been purposefully modified. So, the same meditation and control techniques his father and uncle taught him, he will teach me.”
Pam smiled. “I hope I can find a man like Ichiro. Someone who would love me as much as he loves you.”
Abigail smiled back. “You will. I feel it, I see it. He may not at first sight seem like the one, but he will be your beloved.”
“You’ll come to this future wedding, then.” Pam asked
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
They left a bit after sunrise the next morning. Abigail had telephoned ahead the day before and had been told that the Prophet and President of Deseret, Michael Smith, would meet her at the entry point on Interstate 80 down from Evanston, Wyoming, where it seemed her current life began. She had met Torbin there, and her life was never really the same since.
Now Abigail and Ichiro were nearing the border with Deseret. She glance over to her fiancé.
“Sure you don’t want to sit this one out? It is definitely personal, from a time well before we met.”
Ichiro had squeezed her thigh. “We are to be married. How could any honorable man stand by and watch his wife, his love face problems alone, whether from the past or not? You will never have to face a problem alone again. Not as long as I can breathe.”
Abigail glanced at Ichiro. “Just be careful, my love. We have come too far to be separated now.”
About a mile from the point of entry between Wyoming and Deseret, Abigail and Ichiro saw two mounted figures in camouflage uniforms on the side of the Interstate.
“Wyoming Mounted Militia, Ichi. And it looks like they are motioning us to stop,”
Abigail slowed the vehicle, coming to a stop a few yards from the two figures. She put the SUV in park, letting it idle as she exited, and Ichiro jumped out of the passenger side at the same time. She saw they were Cheyenne as they both easily swung their legs over and slid off their mounts. The male stepped forward and saluted.
“Ma’am. Sir. Sergeant Dark Wolf of the Wyoming Mounted Militia. I was told you were passing through, asked to be part of the security detail for the POE. I have something to return to you.”
As the Sergeant spoke, he held up a switch blade knife with a broken blade. Seeing this, Abigail’s eyes widened as she realized who he was.
“You are the Sergeant who reached me and Fuzz first, and helped to get me on the chopper. You got my Fuzz on the chopper…” Suddenly, Abigail stepped forward and hugged him. “You took care of My Fuzz…”
Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Please, Captain, I was just doing my duty,” a very embarrassed Jacob Dark Wolf said as his female companion grinned.
Abigail hung on for a few moments, then stepped back, wiping her eyes.
“Sorry, that wasn’t very professional, was it? It’s just that I know Fuzz was almost left behind. The thought of his body being left to the scavengers…
“Ma’am,” the female militia soldier interjected. “Jacob could no sooner leave Sergeant Fuzz behind than he could his own brother. His nickname is Talks with Dogs. He has always preferred dogs to his fellow humans.”
“True, Sergeant?” Abigail asked.
“Plus he was one of us, Captain,” Jacob answered. “He was a soldier who died for his comrade. How could I leave him behind?”
Ichiro suddenly stepped forward, and bowed low. He began to talk quickly in Japanese.
“Please, Ichiro. English. They do not speak Japanese.”
“Sorry, Abby-san.” He began again.
“It is an honor to meet a warrior such as you. I must humbly thank you for saving my loved one’s life. I must also thank you for honoring Abby-san’s friend and comrade, Sergeant Fuzz. For he truly was a four legged brother, a best friend to her. I now owe you a debt. Always know you will have a sword at your back should you ever request it.”
Abigail looked at Ichiro and truly realized that he was not of this century. At least not when it came to duty and honor. He was a Samurai cut from the old whole cloth. What he said is what he meant. It was yet another reason why she loved him.
Jacob stepped forward and extended his hand.
“You honor me with your support, and your words. Please stop by my people’s homes, their lands. They will want to meet the Eastern Warrior and the Avenging Angel, to show you the respect you deserve.” Ichiro and Jacob shook hands. Then Jacob realized he had not introduced his comrade.
“Sorry for my rudeness. This is Diane Running Dear, Sergeant, Wyoming Mounted Militia. We are both here to insure you safe return back to Wyoming.”
“Is the Sergeant’s last name indicative of her abilities?’ Abigail asked.
Jacob laughed. “Yes. She ran everywhere as a child. She has not slowed down since.”
The female Sergeant began to salute but Abigail stuck her hand out. The two female soldiers shook hands.
It is an honor to meet you, Captain. You’re a bit of a legend among the younger women in our tribe.”
Abigail blushed a bit. “I wished people wouldn’t react so. I’m just a woman like many others.”
“Abby-san, you are not like any others. You are special.”
She squeezed Ichiro’s arm.
“Thank you both for coming, Sergeant Dark Wolf, and Sergeant Running Deer. Now, we must continue and pass into Deseret for our meeting.”
“We’ll be by the POE waiting for your return, Captain, Major,” said Dark Wolf. “Need any help, just whistle.”
“I’ll do that,” answered Abigail. She and Ichiro reentered the vehicle. Abigail started up the SUV, looked over at Ichiro.
“Last chance, Ichi. This is my problem not yours. The outcome may not be pleasant.”
“As I have said before, Abby my love, we are as one. We are joined at the hip.”
Abigail smiled, took a deep breath, and sighed. “As they say, here goes nothing.”
They drove to the large gate that controlled access to the Nation State of Deseret from Wyoming. Abigail was expecting to see the older married couple that had been there for years. Instead, grim-faced men in dark combat fatigues with assault rifles greeted them as the gate opened. One approached to the driver’s side window and Abigail lowered it.
“Captain Young and Major Yamamoto. We have a scheduled meeting with the Prophet.”
“Pull your vehicle over there, by that barricade,” the armed man ordered. “Lock all your weapons in the back.” Abigail noticed he had no military insignia on his fatigues.
“Excuse me, I’m the official Deseret Representative to the U.S.A…”
“Don’t care. No weapons by the Prophet and President.” Abigail noticed he had his hand on the pistol grip of the assault weapon.
“Hai,” Ichiro suddenly jumped in, put his best self-deprecating smile on his face. “We will do as you say. The Prophet must have a need for more protection. We will comply.” He did a slight bow in his seat toward the armed guard.
“Fine. Then walk over to those picnic tables. We’ll be watching.”
Abigail had a momentary desire to snatch the man’s adam’s apple from this throat, but resisted the urge. She expected this meeting to be contentious, but there was a level of tension in the air she had not expecte
d. She drove the SUV over to the directed area and parked.
She looked at Ichiro. “This does not look good. You could stay in the vehicle.”
He snorted. “What type of Samurai would that make me? Hiding like a young scared schoolgirl. I think not.”
Abigail quickly kissed him. “Another reason why I love you so.”
The two warriors exited their vehicle, and began stripping off their belts, stowing the equipment and weapons in the back seat. Both kept some concealed throwing blades and she saw Ichiro conceal the Tanto knife he had received from Hannah Weitz under his fatigue jacket. They may not have katanas or firearms, but they were far from defenseless.
After retrieving a manila envelope, Abigail shut the vehicle, and they started to walk toward the picnic tables. As they did, Abigail glanced over to the two story combination residence and inspection building. In the second story window she saw the face of Anne White, the female half of the older couple who usually manned the entry point. She had a worried look on her face, and suddenly turned as if someone was calling her. Then she disappeared. Her husband had probably told her to get away from the window.
Abigail turned her head toward Ichiro.
“Yes, Abby. I know this is not right. That you were about to tell me that we are walking into the proverbial lion’s den.”
She gave him a small smile. “Not even married, and you are already reading my mind.”
“As I said, Abby-san. We are joined at the hip.”
The couple walked toward six assault weapon armed dark uniformed security personnel. They were spread out around the two large picnic tables which were situated on the edge of a parking area. Two black SUVs parked nearby had apparently brought the security personnel. Abigail saw no other people. Then the sound of a large car engine was heard. Coming into view on the main road was a large black limousine of the type used by the Prophet and President.
“It begins,” Abigail murmured.
The limousine slowed to a stop on the edge of the parking area. As soon as it had stopped, the driver, whom Abigail recognized as Agent Hall, the Prophet’s Special Assistant, was out and opening the back passenger door. Immediately Prophet and President Michael Smith stepped out, adorned in a tailored black uniform with a belted pistol. So much for the civilian suit Abigail was used to seeing him in.
Then Abigail saw a familiar face exiting the limo behind Michael Smith. Mathew Young, fellow member of the Twenty, stepped out wearing a black uniform with a belted pistol.
The Prophet saw Abigail and smiled, then waved. By force of habit, Abigail gave a small wave back although she did not feel friendly or social. The manila envelope she held contained information that belied any previous relationship.
“Daughter Abigail. You look fit and well,” Michael Smith called out as he approached.
“I brought your old friend, Avenging Angel Mathew Young. Hopefully you two can catch up on your personal activities.”
“Hello, Prophet.” Abigail did not smile as she gave a greeting.
“And I see you have brought a friend with you. Good. I have heard you have made many contacts, that you are becoming a bit of a legend. Especially after your brush with death.”
Abigail could no longer keep any form of a façade in place. “This is not a social meeting, Prophet Smith. I have some serious questions to ask, the answers affecting our future relationship.”
As the Prophet neared, a frown appeared on his face. Before he could say anything, Abigail tossed the manila envelope at him with expert ease while he was still a few yards away. The Prophet caught the envelope, an irritated look on his face.
“What is this?”
“Please look in it and review its contents.”
During the short exchange, the security personnel had edged closer.
“Hello, Abigail.” Mathew Young smiled at her and started to close the distance.
Driver/bodyguard Agent Hall stepped in his path as Prophet Smith gave a small signal.
“Hello. Mathew. You have grown, filled out since we met.”
“You look quite healthy yourself, a bit taller.”
Abigail finally smiled. “Good food and lots of exercise, Mathew. I have even become a bit of a cook myself.”
Mathew motioned to Ichiro. “Fellow soldier? He appears to be from Free Japan.”
Abigail smiled some more. “I am pleased to introduce Major Ichiro Yamamoto, pilot and warrior of Free Japan. One of the surviving members of the attack on Key West, specifically the one who launched the nuke.”
She paused as Ichiro gave a short bow. Then Abigail added another detail. “And my fiancé.”
Upon hearing this, Prophet Smith jerked his head up from reading the contents of the manila envelope.
“Fiancé?” He asked sternly. “Did I hear correctly?”
“Yes, that’s so,” Abigail Answered.
The Prophet’s face seemed to turn a bit red.
“You throw a file from the U.S.A that appears to contain questionable scientific accusations and then tell me you are going to marry a …heathen. A non-believer? What has happened to you? I thought I was like your father.”
Abigail looked at him, face and eyes hardened. “You ask what has happened to me? Should I start with the fact someone has done things to my body, my DNA? That I was apparently modified and trained to be some sort of…super soldier?”
“Who told you that? Who told you those lies?” responded a very agitated Prophet and President Smith.
“I was not told. I was shown.” Abigail’s shout was almost a scream. “I was shown by the greys who followed a transmitter imbedded in my body everyone thought was shrapnel. I was shown by the reports of what I did to my fellow soldiers who were just trying to rescue me. I was shown by the fact I was in a near-catatonic state in the hospital for days. You think this all happened by accident?”
“My friends! They are not heathens. Their doctors have proof of what I have become. What my body has become. You and your doctors tried to make me a…thing.”
Prophet Smith’s face became a rock mask. “I did what I knew was right for Deseret. For the Mormon people. If I sacrificed some unclean…”
“Am I unclean also, Prophet?” Mathew suddenly interjected, which resulted in a quick “Shut up” from Agent Hall.
“Unclean? Unclean?” Abigail’s face was filled with rage.
“This ‘unclean’ person can have children, after years of being told by your doctors I could not. You and they are liars.”
The Prophet’s face became red with rage. “You overstep your bounds. You forget who’re talking to. I am the Chosen Prophet of the Church of Latter Day Saints, with direct communication with God. How dare you question me? I do the Lord’s work.”
“You worked with the Squids to make me a thing. You are a false prophet. Judas!”
Abigail’s voice increased in volume, then built up to a near feral scream at the end. Ichiro started to step forward to calm Abigail. Prophet Smith strode forward with unexpected speed, swinging a right open handed slap at Abigail’s face. His blow met iron as Abigail caught it in a right handed vise grip.
“You reap what you sow,” she said through clenched teeth. Then the sound of crunching bones were heard as Abigail twisted and crushed the Prophet’s arm and hand. His eyes went wide with pain as everyone around stood in shock of the unexpected tableau. His mouth opened to scream.
“Shoot her!”
Hell came to picnic.
Mathew yelled, “No!” and with the enhanced speed and training of the Twenty had his pistol out first, shooting the nearest uniformed guard through the throat. His shots drew the combined attention of the other five assault weapon armed personnel, who proceeded to throw rounds his way.
Ichiro hands became blurs as he threw concealed shurikens that struck the faces of two of the guards. He then threw himself into a forward roll to close the distance between himself and the nearer armed personnel. His roll and Mathew’s fire threw off the attempts to shoot him
. Mathew put two rounds in the chest body armor of one shooter then a third round through his bicep of the pistol grip hand. The young warrior then put a round in the thigh of the next guard, as the first rounds found him. His body armor overmatched with the multiple rifle caliber bullets hitting him, Mathew went down with penetrations to his chest.
Agent Hall pulled his pistol and went to his boss’ aid. Abigail, still holding on and mangling the Prophet’s right arm, grabbed his gun belt with her left. She lifted him up and began to carry and push the leader toward the onrushing threat. The driver/bodyguard tried to draw a bead but couldn’t get one as Abigail was using the Prophet’s body as cover. Then with unexpected strength, Abigail threw Prophet Smith into Agent Hall. A pistol shot sent a bullet zipping by Abigail’s left ear as the Prophet slammed into his man, the two now entangled.
Something “clicked” inside Abigail, and she became a blur. With the blink of an eye, she closed, twisted and yanked the pistol from the Agent Hall’s hand, half ripping off his trigger finger. She turned the pistol on its owner and shot him between his eyes, brain back splatter peppering Prophet Smith as he fell to the ground with his now dead assassin. The Avenging Angel turned and shot as Ichiro closed with and slit the throat of one of the guards with his concealed Tanto knife. Like a machine, Abigail found a target with her eyes and shot. Each shot was a headshot, every threat she shot seemingly moving in slow motion.
Then it was all over, with all of the security personnel down and dead. Ichiro had watched her final acts, and saw the speed with which Abigail moved. Later, he would say she switched into “hyperspeed”, fast even for him. As Abigail scanned for threats, she saw Mathew, down and bleeding. She let out a banshee scream, then was by his side. Ichiro took an assault rifle from one of the dead, and covered his love as she tried to give medical aid to Mathew.
“Lay still, Mathew.” As she said that, shots were heard from the area of the entry point. Then Cheyenne war cries. Help was on its way.
“Abby,” Mathew said, then spit up blood.
“Don’t talk. Help is on its way…”
Typhoon of Steel Page 18