Vanessa

by David Howells

Chapter 20 – ATTACK

  The riders met up again. Ryan told Allen that, even from a distance, he could see a change. The soldiers were riding with straighter backs, eyes less downcast. They were talking more to each other. Probably comparing notes on the pictures, he guessed correctly. The Major was in the lead and, though his head didn’t turn, Ryan caught the sparkle in his eyes, his smile and the slight nod as he passed. Mortal men once again took their places at the end of the column.

  “RASKOSKIE, PRIVATE RICHARD.”

  “RICCARDO, PRIVATE ANGELINO.”

  “Miss Vanessa, they’ll be here soon. Will you stay nearby like you did yesterday? It helps keep me from being sad. ”

  “(choke) Rebecca, I will do that for you and you, too, Jason. I wish I could make the time go by more quickly so we could just skip over to Saturday.”

  “We know, Miss Vanessa. My sister and I have waited this long. We can wait a little while longer. It’s not as bad now, knowing it’s not forever and that you’re there. Now, I start this time. Ready? One, two, SCISSORS. Dang!”

  Annie could sense the male closeness now. The difference in her feel of things was no longer vague. It was definite. She still could reach out and feel them, control them and their mounts, but they didn’t feel as bent, as cowed. Something’s propping them up and she aimed to kick that prop out from under them. She looked at the children, then at Vanessa.

  “Can’t be her. She’s been there all along. Must be that wicked Ryan fellow. Must concentrate, must...” She closed her eyes and concentrated hard, harder than she had in a century of absolute control. She reached out fully with her senses and felt her way to the soldiers, using her connection to Patterson as her main homing signal. There they were. She didn’t so much see them as she sensed their presence. She brushed by each one, starting with the Major himself. Like a wave of discontent, a shiver went over each man starting from the front and working its way down the line. One by one, counting as she went. After she had counted forty-eight, she drifted further back. There. The last two. Something was between them, but she couldn’t make it out. There was energy there that disturbed the binding flow she had woven among all the Union men. Could that be Ryan? She had not done this for well over a century and was unsure of what kind of risks such unpracticed effort might entail, but she was more afraid not to take action. There was too much to lose and she might lose either way. But if she had to lose the game, then better from action than from inaction.

  She came closer to the flow obstruction and sensed presence. More than one being was the first impression she twigged. She quieted all thoughts except those that took in what could be sensed. Four. Two and two.

  “Of course. Men on horses. Two of them, mounted. One must be Ryan. Who is the other? What can I do about it? Maybe, this?”

  Ryan was busy looking at the two men on either side. These were the last two, which was good because the Homestead was coming up. Allen was the first to notice it. Cumquat was getting, what, spooked? Turning from York, Private Aaron, he asked, “Ryan, is something funny going on up ahead?”

  Ryan looked and saw, something. It was, what? “Private Zielinski, do you see anything up ahead?”

  “No sir, but Tango is getting jittery. Wait, something’s coming. Oh no! It’s her! She’s here, Sir. I feel her coming.”

  “Who? Mrs. Edwards?”

  “Yes, Sir. She hasn’t come here personally since I can’t remember when. I don’t think she can hear us, Sir, but she can sense rebellion.”

  Ryan fumed, “Damn her. What do I do? Run with it.”

  The Major felt the passing, but it had taken time to recall the signature of his enemy. “My God. RYAN, SHE’S JUST PASSED BY ME, SHE’S COMING BACK YOUR WAY!” Major Covington knew what to do next. “Men of the Union! She’s here. Remove any thoughts of rebellion out of your minds. Think of home. NO, BELAY THAT. Think of something terrible. Think of, dying, of losing your wives and families, that’s an order, NOW!”

  Mad Annie felt the resilience fade. Good. She put them down now as she did long ago. “The feeble fools. Now, look at the two. One of them has strength, has sight. The other is blind, but there is still strength in him. One I dare not. This one, however, I dare.”

  Ryan was closely watching the column for changes. This visit was completely unexpected and he had to find out more about what Mad Annie was capable of. Everything else was put out of his mind.

  Allen blinked a couple of times and shook his head. He felt sleepy and warm. There was a prickle along the hairs of his arms and legs that tickled pleasantly. It was like he had taken a sleeping pill or something. The light was getting darker. Should it be doing that? Where is...“Rrryyyyannnn…”

  Ryan’s forward focus broke when he heard Allen. Fortunately, Allen fell towards him and he was able to catch him. Things were getting too much for Cumquat. Sensing Mad Annie was bad enough. Sensing her rider was not right, really not right, was frightening her into flight. Cumquat reared and Ryan had to hold onto Allen, which was no small feat as Allen’s right foot was still in the stirrup. Cumquat bolted and Ryan was left holding Allen, minus one half of a pair of expensive athletic shoes. “Major! I have to go right away! I need a distraction!”

  “Sing, men! For all your worth! SING!”

  With Allen flopped over Maribelle (fortunately, Ryan rode on an English rather than Western saddle, or his passenger would have suffered internal injuries from the pommel), Ryan made quick but careful tracks back away from the soldiers. He could hear them, fading into the background.

  “Hurrah, boys, hurrah. Down with the traitor, and up with the flag.”

  “What the Hell did she do? How the Hell did she do it?”

  “Yes we’ll rally round the flag boys, rally once again.”

  “Like Gustav says, it’s a whole new ballgame.”

  “Shouting the battle cry of freedom.”

  “Shit.”

  Gustav was grumbling. “Bloody females. Who can understand them?” He was working at Allen’s PC that he had programmed to include his own ID, still arguing with the insurance carrier. The PC spit out a rapid series of chirps. His eyes widened. That’s not good. To the beleaguered insurance representative on the other side of the connection, he clicked the ‘emergency-disconnect-sorry-will-call-you-after-the-dust-settles’ button. That freed the main input channel. The carrier rep leaned back and wondered what kind of person could be so insistent, rude, and demanding. The guy had to be a lawyer.

  Gustav hit the disconnect after getting the quick-and-dirty from Ryan. “CHRIST! Marianne, Rachel, hit the deck. NOW!” Both came on the run, wondering what could ‘Mr. Calm’ possibly be so upset about. “Grab your purses, I’ll explain on the way.” They went out the door and he punched the elevator. Immediately after, he hit a speed connect, which gave him a line to the front desk.

  “May I help...”

  “CAN IT. This is the penthouse suite, Mendelssohn speaking. This is an emergency. Get me transportation, I don’t care if it’s the laundry delivery truck, and have it out front five minutes ago. Do you understand?”

  “WHAT? Gustav, what...” Marianne knew better than to ask. Rachel didn’t, yet.

  “QUIET.” Back to the phone. “I said, can you comply with my request?” It was a question, but there was no question on the other end that this was not a polite request.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Mendelssohn. It will be waiting.” The elevator door opened and the three piled in. He began another speed dial on the SatCom.

  “Ryan, thank God. We’re on our way. Fill me in on any details. Marianne, straight passage, now!”

  Marianne pulled something long and metal out of her hair and shoved it into the ‘FIRE CONTROL’ slot, jiggled it a bit, turned it and put the elevator on emergency mode where it would only stop when it got to the bottom. That surprised a few floors worth of patrons who had been patiently waiting.
>
  “Uh huh, he’s OK? What do you mean, ‘not sure’? Crap, Ryan, when will they know? Right, we just hit the ground floor.”

  It didn’t take a techno-weenie to figure out that the person at the center of the emergency was Allen. Rachel was pale, but kept her wits under control. She couldn’t help her son and might hurt him by falling apart now. She closed her eyes and did an emergency transport to her recently built mental room. There was the table. She grabbed a MiDi, filled it, labeled it, put it in the box and gave it a quick tie with a scrap of ribbon. The box was tossed onto the shelf next to ‘Frank’. It read “Not Again”.

  Hysterics were little more to her than a selfish tantrum when something you cherished was being taken away. She had come to trust the members of her, family? Well, the team, anyway. Gustav may get grumpy and leaned a bit toward the stuffy side, but he was a trooper when the storm hit.

  The elevator door opened. No one ran, but Gustav set a quick pace to the front door. The concierge called out, “Green Taxi!” The leader of the pack gave a quick nod and straight-armed the automatically opening doors that were not fast enough for him.

  Sure enough, the driver of a large, green taxi held the doors wide open. Experienced, he gauged what was coming and decided not to do the door-closing thing. He jogged to the driver’s seat. His fares would prefer to close their own doors to save the extra few seconds. The man had just let off a set of wealthy Tokyo visitors when ‘Maurice’ hailed him. The concierge’s name was actually Bob, but to him, they were all ‘Maurice’.

  He wondered which one was the ‘emergency’. Experience said ‘no one’. The man gave the orders, the women followed his lead. Either woman looked capable in her own right, so this man must be someone who earned the respect to command. The driver heard the order for Milledgeville General ER (it figured) and didn’t waste time getting up to speed and a bit more. He knew the short cuts like a pro, which he was. Maybe that’s why he felt attuned to what was going on. Pros know pros. It’s a fraternity/sorority that you don’t apply for. You either are one, or you aren’t.

  The women were a good place to start. He looked in his rear view for a snapshot. ‘Blond’ was paler than a blond should be. ‘Hispanic’ (Mediterranean?) assumed a posture of supporter and comforter. The cab driver would have been an excellent psychologist or analyst, but he had too much fun doing this. Besides, he probably helped more people in more ways than those stuffed shirts ever dreamed of doing. ‘Man’ was talking on his SatCom. Nice model, expensive. ‘Man’ is ‘business’, but not the head. He’s a right hand. He wondered if it was the number one that was in trouble. He considered the upset woman; ‘Blond’. He estimated her age and how old a child of hers would likely be. The number he came up with was not old enough to have risen to a position of major authority unless he or she inherited it.

  Maybe ‘emergency’ was her husband? Gut said no. It was a kid. You don’t get that pale unless it was a kid.

  There were other possible scenarios, but this one felt right. It was time to test it out. “Ma’am, Milledgeville General is the best in the county. I’m sure your child is going to be fine.” Peripheral vision to his right revealed a startled man. Bingo! “Your boss with him right now?” The driver could not have known how much he had just inadvertently altered his life. That realization would come soon enough, though.

  Gustav was floored. “How the hell did you know all that? What are you, C.I.A.?”

  “No sir, C.A.B. I've been at this for a long time. I get a feeling for how things are and I’m usually right. Am I?”

  “Well, I was just about to give the whole story to your other two fares, but maybe you’d like to fill them in instead?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. That’s all I’ve been able to piece together. Name’s Ralph Kithcart. Call me Ralph. E.R in seven minutes. They have great Doc’s there folks, really know their sh-stuff.”

  That brought a ghost of a smile to Rachel. “That’s OK, Ralph. I don’t mind the occasional ‘shit’. Helps cleanse the colon and flattens your tummy.”

  Ralph liked this one. He wondered if she was single. Angles were wrong to scope out the left hand and he couldn’t quite get a read on her status, yet. That was odd.

  “Gotcha ma’am. Potty language is kosher in present company if the situation calls for it.”

  Gustav had a good eye for people and this was ‘good people’. He was successful because he knew how to put the right people to work for him in the right places. The current crisis had shaken his faith in the team as it stood. Perhaps it was time to recruit?

  “My name’s Gustav. Back there are Rachel and Marianne. Chances are I don’t need to tell you which are which. When this is over, quit this cab and work for me. Please, with sprinkles?”

  “Sorry Gustav. I’m vested, tested and never been bested. Carry on, King Kraut.” There was more than one snicker from the back.

  After all this time, Mad Annie had pulled a royal rabbit out of her bonnet and caught everyone off guard. They needed a mind reader, and make that to go. There was no time for a hiring interview. Gustav went with his instincts. “Cancel that offer. I get enough grief from yon saucy wenches. Ladies, Ryan and Allen were with the last pair of soldiers when something came down the column. It seemed to be Mad Annie sniffing the changes in the air. She chose Allen to reach out to, for some reason. Maybe she felt Ryan was too strong with his altered bio-magnetic configuration. Allen just fell asleep like Snow White. Ryan caught him, threw him over his mount and rode straight to the hospital while the soldiers sang up a storm to confuse Mad Annie. Allen’s resting comfortably, but he’s still out to lunch. This changes things, big time. We’ll have to redo our plans on child and soldier saving if Mad Annie’s able to reach out like this, or worse. You got all that, Ralph?”

  “Since we’re going to the hospital ER, I’ll stop in with you and have them uncross my eyes. There’s one hell of a story here and we’re two minutes out. Tell you what, the fare is free and I’ll throw in the trip back together with the benefit of my own infinite wisdom to solve all your turmoils. All it will cost you is some time, the scoop, and a few drinks. How about it?”

  Marianne thought that Mike would have liked this guy. “Take it Gustav, you old skinflint. ‘Free’ was your family motto, wasn’t it?”

  Gustav looked at Ralph. His wiles, learned from many years of getting what he wanted from people (manipulating), were bearing fruit. A quick calculation of how to get this fish to come closer to his hook, then, “If you must marry, my good man, marry domestic These imports get tart when they age.”

  ‘WHUMP’

  “Lady, please, go easy on the upholstery. Kick his butt, but not through my seat back. Before you take it out on me, too, I was just about to strongly disagree.” Ralph had decided that he preferred the fiery Philippino, or whatever she was. “Be glad to show you my collection of ice-breaker lies, I mean, lines, sometime.”

  The hack was an expert, Gustav thought. Even in this upsetting time, he was able to get a snort of laughter from two very uptight women who were just short of crying. This was getting to be most promising.

  Marianne looked at Ralph through narrowed eye slits and tilted her head slightly. “We’ll see, maybe later. I’ll return the favor and show you some of my favorite karate blocks.”

  Rachel had to join in. “She’s not kidding, friend. I saw her topple a HUGE biker this afternoon. Then, if that wasn’t enough, she launched him over the counter of the bar.”

  Ralph blinked. “Wait a minute! That was you? My cab radio has police band. Detective Sara Benson reported an incident involving the biggest biker she had ever seen being floored, then catapulted, by a now missing olive-skinned dark brown haired female in her early 30’s. They were looking for her, she said. I had trouble hearing her clearly as she was busting a gut.”

  Marianne liked the underestimate of her age. She wondered how old
Ralph was. Hard to tell from behind. A quick glance on a right hand turn showed he had an unadorned left hand.

  Gustav gave up. There was no control to be had with women, none at all. “Picking on bikers? Marianne, what were you thinking? I hope there were more than thirty because I’d hate to think you were the bully.”

  “There were only twenty-two. I’m sorry, Gustav. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Three Hail Mary’s, a Novena, a trip to Lourdes, and polish my shoes.”

  “NO, Gustav, not the shoes again! My eyebrows are just now growing back.”

  Ralph pulled into the HR entrance circle and tried to announce the arrival, but he couldn’t. He was laughing too hard and loud. Pointing had to suffice. Two ER attendants came out, hearing the roars from the cab. Gustav pulled one to the side and told him, “Psychotic episode. I and my associates managed to convince him to come here at the risk of our own lives. I’m Dr. Mendelssohn. Better put him in isolation until I can pull up his records from World-Medi-Scan. Careful, he’s delusional.”

  As they walked in, Rachel scolded Gustav. “That man gave us a lot of help he didn’t have to and this is how you treat him?”

  Marianne laughed behind her hand. “Rachel, Honey, you need to learn more about our ‘team shark’.”

  Gustav took on his professional voice and face. “My dear Mrs. Gladstone, I just made sure our good cab driver would still be here when I desired to return to the hotel. He will also know whom not to treat lightly in the future, should push come to shove.” There were other reasons. Gustav was serious about adding this man to the team. There would be some pretty rough times ahead. He had to find out how Ralph Kithcart handled significant stress, but he felt right about the man in his gut instinct department.

  Despite the now-closed double doors of the ER entrance, they could hear a bellowing of disbelief. Marianne said to Gustav, “You make nice man go away, and I’ll introduce your head to your butt.”

  “Not to worry, oh height challenged Amazon. Ralph isn’t the only one who can read people. He’ll be fine and it will give you two something in common to grouse about...Me.” Gustav privately hoped he was right. Being a martyr was not on his list of things to do today. Ralph he could handle. Marianne was a different story.

  The ER public information desk clerk was used to people in all flavors of emotional states. A nervous looking man and two women with a case of the giggles was not what she was used to. “May I help you?”

  “Please, this is Rachel Hawthorn Gladstone, whose son, Allen, was just brought in. I am Allen’s legal council and this is my assistant, Marianne Cabrini. We are in a hurry, if you please.” He leaned forward and whispered. “She’s near mental collapse. Please, it’s her only son and she has to see him right away.”

  “Yes, sir. Phil, come over here. Please escort these nice people to E-7, bed B. Thank you. Mrs. Gladstone, your son is resting comfortably. I’m sure he will be fine. Phil here will take you right to him. If there is anything else you might need, you come right back here and I will personally help you. Just ask for Alice Littleton.”

  All three offered their thanks and began to follow Phil. Marianne made a mental note to send that lady a serious flower arrangement. If only more hospitals had people like that, they wouldn’t be so feared by Joe Public. “Gustav, if you’re going to hire Ralph, I claim Alice.”

  Phil, an aging volunteer who seemed happy in his work, said, “Please don’t take our Alice away. She’s what makes this place wonderful for so many sad folks. We’d miss her something terrible.”

  Marianne sighed. “Well, at least with Ralph I’ll have a younger man to have fun with for a change.”

  Phil said, “Here we are, folks, E-7. ‘A’ bed is unoccupied, so you can go right in. I believe there is someone waiting for you.”

  Going through the door put a damper on the up-mood they worked so hard to achieve. Ryan was sitting on the two-seater couch. Allen was in ‘B’ bed with wires hooked up to his chest, head and one to his left index finger. There were monitors set into the wall, displaying all kinds of information to the medically wise and offering gibberish to everyone else.

  “Doctor Adamson left a minute ago. Allen’s resting, but hasn’t regained consciousness.” Ryan related all that had happened starting with the showing of pictures to the look on the faces of ER personnel when he rode through the pneumatic doors on Maribelle. The stables were less than a mile from the hospital so it was the fastest way to get there. Hospital employees who were there to witness the tale would be the envy of their audiences for years to come. Ryan found out from a nurse that, after he had dismounted in the waiting room, Maribelle had been attracted to the emergency personnel (only) coffee and locker room, smelling doughnuts. By the time they had gotten her out of there, three boxes of Duncan variety packs were of historical interest only. Someone had the foresight to grab the ER’s digi-cam and Ryan pointed to his complimentary copies on the tray table. Since Allen was being closely monitored by remote, they took a few minutes to take a look.

  The first image showed a doorway being blocked by a sight usually reserved for those who follow horse trailers on the highway. “That’s how she managed to down all the donuts. No one had the gumption to go under or around. Some enterprising nurse broke out a gurney and had someone wheel her up behind Maribelle. She crawled over the rump and scrunched into the saddle. The reins, however, were over the horse’s head, dangling onto the floor. She couldn’t convince the horse to do anything, except keep eating, so someone handed her the ER’s digi-cam.” The second image showed a bird’s eye view of Maribelle’s head buried in an open box with a cloud of powdered sugar rising from it. “The nurse managed to get someone to pass her one of those reach extenders from the janitor’s closet and snagged the reins. By that time, though, there wasn’t anything left to hold an equine sweet tooth’s interest, so Maribelle was cooperative in backing out.”

  The third image showed the nurse, complete with a small cowboy hat on her head, sitting in front of the ER admitting station on a horse with sugar white lips. “They have things like hats around as props to calm down children in the waiting room. I could swear I’ve seen that nag in a vaudeville act.”

  The final souvenir showed two disgruntled housekeeping employees cleaning up a parting gift Maribelle had left. Behind them was the kiosk where the ER staff worked. It was one of those half-high walls and there was a white-sleeved arm hanging over one of them.

  “That’s the charge nurse, well, part of her, anyway. She was hanging on to the wall with one arm, holding her ribs with the other. These are going into ER magazine next month.”

  Rachel looked at Allen. “Ryan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you ever lead a normal life?”

  “Once.”

  Gustav turned around, “You never mentioned.”

  “You never asked.”

  Shortly after Ryan first pulled Allen off Maribelle, his burden had lost touch with the real world. Allen was drifting, feeling quite pleasant, warm and comforted. He opened his eyes and could see he was standing in a field of new corn, hearing the wind rustle the leaves. Even smells were there of earth, plants and animal fertilizer. She was standing a few feet in front of him.

  “I know you. You’re Mrs. Anita Edwards. What are you doing here? For that matter, what am I doing here? While you’re at it, where is here?” The answer he got didn’t have the hollow sounds some dreams manufacture. The apparition before him sounded very…solid?

  “You know my name, young man? Before asking so many questions of a lady, you might be polite and introduce yourself to me, first.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course. My name is Allen Hawthorn, ma’am. I’m a college student visiting Georgia, sort of on vacation.”

  “That's much better. Very well, Master Hawthorn. This is my home, the way it once was, until things changed.”

  Allen looked around. They were i
n a cornfield, but there were other fields in sight. He could see what might be cotton, orchards and other crops that were low and green (beans maybe, peas?). There were men and women in the fields. African American. Slaves. He could see the Homestead Main House, the main barn and other buildings that were less well built and didn’t look familiar. Slave homes, he guessed. They must have been more cheaply built and didn’t stand up to the test of time. There was a peacefulness to it all, a slow pace so different than at RPI. Than New York in general, for that matter. He looked back at Annie. “How did I get here?”

  “It isn’t real, Master Hawthorn. It is what I remember. I reached out to you. You were riding with the soldiers and that Ryan fellow. I touched your mind and you fell asleep. I can feel our touch getting gradually weaker, so I expect someone’s probably carrying you away from here. Ryan, maybe? We have a little time, so why not get to know each other better? Why are you riding with the soldiers? Are you a Yankee? You aren’t dressed like one.”

  Allen realized that this was an unimagined opportunity that fell into his lap when he fell asleep. “Mrs. Edwards, please, let the soldiers go. Let God judge them now. They’ve suffered enough, haven’t they? You lost your family, well, so did they when they lost their lives. You did that to them, didn’t you?”

  The image didn’t get angry. Her voice was calm, as she said, “They took my Archibald. They took my slaves. They took my children. They took my life. They took our nation. Are you so wise as to pretend you are the new Moses, asking me to let your people go? I don’t think so. There aren’t enough years in eternity to punish those that destroyed me, my family, and my country.”

  It was a tall wall. Try going around it. “Mrs. Edwards, my own father was taken from me when I was four years old by a salesman who had been at the wheel too long. That man died in the same accident. I forgave him, long ago. He made a mistake and paid for it with his and my father’s life. Revenge will not bring back my father or the years I was denied his presence. I always had his love. Mom made sure I knew that. He was a good man, but shit happens, Mrs. Edwards.”

  That got a curious look. “I beg your pardon. Master Hawthorn?”

  “Oh, sorry. It’s an old saying my Mom uses, rarely, when things get very hard for her. It means that life was never meant to be always nice, fair, or even tolerable. Bad things happen to good people every day. If everyone took revenge on everyone they thought needed to be revenged, we would be extinct.”

  “Go on, Master Hawthorn. I don’t agree with everything you say, but you seem to be a good young man. Good men are worth listening to, my Daddy used to say.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Edwards. All my friends and I want to do is to allow spirits like you, your children and those men you have in your control to go to where they were meant to go.”

  “There are others helping you in this?”

  “Ryan is my great, great, grandfather. One of the soldiers is his great grandfather. My mother is helping, and so is Gustav, Marianne, and...”

  “Yes, Master Hawthorn, who else?”

  She was pumping him for information! That is what this was about. Damn it! She knew about the others. Did he stop in time? “Ryan has hired staff that helps us help others. There are drivers, for instance, legal people, historians, lawyers...”

  “ENOUGH. Well, Master Hawthorn, you gave me something to think about, anyway. You didn’t tell me everything I wanted to know, but you did tell me much. Thank you for that. Now I know where you are, who you are and some of those you are working with. That’s a start. I know your mind now and will be waiting for you. You know what I can do if your friends do something I don’t like. We’re connected, just like those soldiers were to me when I died. I collected them, and I can collect you as well. Look around you, Master Allen. Look at what is waiting for you.”

  Allen looked. The fields were catching on fire and so were the buildings. The slaves were coming, each with some kind of farm implement. They were all looking at him with dull, mindless expressions. Allen looked where to run, but the fire was everywhere. Still, he ran. His progress seemed good as the burning stalks of corn were whizzing past rapidly, but there seemed to be no end to them. He looked behind himself, still running. There were the slaves. They were very slowly closing the gap, but they were walking. “How can that be?”

  It was like a dream. “Crap on a cupcake, it IS a dream!” It was HIS dream. He could take control. He had to. Annie’s contact with him had been diminishing all this time. Maybe he had enough amps now to break the connect. Those were slaves. How could he deal with them in a way that his mind would accept as effective? Well, there was one way that came to mind. Mom often said that if something comes to mind unbidden, it was probably worth listening to. Damn, that sounds like a Mad Annie-ism. So what if it was? Fight fire with fire, and that seemed particularly appropriate at the moment

  Allen stopped running and turned around, no longer afraid. The slaves slowed their pace, but kept coming. Allen brought himself to full height and began to speak. “Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth this continent a new nation,” They stopped moving. The fires died down to smoldering patches. “...conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” By force of Allen’s growing and Mad Annie’s fading wills they began to drop their implements. Their clothes changed from torn and dusty overalls to clean clothes that they might wear to go to church in. Allen pointed behind them and they turned. He wanted to picture the most powerful incentive and clear communication to those who were under his own control. No! No, not control. Leadership. “Lead?” That sounded familiar. He could see that, in the distance, Annie was not happy at all with the changes. He could feel her reaching out to the slaves…no! Don’t think of them like that. They were men and women. He wouldn’t let her keep them, and he’d use his best battle cry. Allen began running towards Mad Annie, with his newfound army, yelling his loudest to spur his troops on: “DOG PILE ON THE RABBIT!”

  The images began to waver. Allen saw Mad Annie hike up her skirts, turn and run. Things began to darken. The men and women turned and looked at him. Many now stood in man and woman pairings. Children stood next to paired adults. They were smiling at him. “Waving? That girl blew me a kiss. She looks (yawn) pretty nice.” It was dusk. They were leaving. “That pretty one, she took another look at me and (yawn) smiled real sweet.”

  He opened his eyes to a different place. It was disorienting. Instead of a blue sky or clouds of smoke, there were, tiles? Lights? Peripheral vision noted wire leads, read outs, walls and people. Turn on the sound, he ordered his brain. Yes, he could hear them now. Nicely familiar.

  “HE’S AWAKE! Allen, Honey, can you hear me? Are you all right? You had us so worried! Can you speak? Oh, my God! Talk to me!”

  Marianne took Rachel by the shoulders. “Honey, slow down, give him some air, OK? He’ll be fine, just take it easy on him.”

  Everyone looked at Allen, waiting, listening. Allen looked confused. He whispered, “Where did the slave girl go?” Then, “What’s so funny?”

  Rachel sat by her son, telling him everything that had happened. He felt good to hear her voice, after what he had been through, rain down the sweet milk of her kindness and concern. You never really outgrew that, he thought. He got quite a laugh out of the pictures.

  “Where did Cumquat go?” Stupid name or not, he had come to like the nag.

  “Back to the stables, most likely. I’ll call and check. Gustav? Call and check.”

  Two eyes went to the ceiling, but a hand pulled out a SatCom and hit one of the speed connects. A minute later, “She’s fine. Your shoe was still in the stirrup when she came back. They’ll keep it there for you.”

  “Yeah, when I go back and, HOLY SHIT!”

  “Now what?” was the general consensus.

  “I saw her, people. I talke
d with Mad Annie.”

  Ryan grabbed the horns. This was important, especially after what he had seen come down the column earlier. “Calm down, gather your thoughts, take it from the beginning, son, and take it slow. Don’t leave out any details. Now, from the top.”

  Allen took a deep breath, then another. He closed his eyes for a few moments and began to describe seeing Mad Annie and the pleasantness of the Homestead vision. The recounting of the slave sheds caused three of the four listening to nod, for they had done research on the whole history of the property. Same thing when the types of crops were described. Allen felt that the absence in the vision of her children or Col. Edwards wasn’t too important. Ryan wasn’t quite as sure but allowed that it was possible. The subtle way Mad Annie wheedled information out of Allen on the numbers of their group was certainly forgivable, since normal guards aren’t up during dream states. Allen felt as though he had let the group down, but the others were emphatic that there was absolutely no reason for him to feel that way. On top of that, they openly admired that he realized what was happening in time to protect Vanessa.

  Then came the dream’s change from pastoral idyllic to medieval inferno. Rachel’s face registered the greatest horror, Ryan’s the greatest interest, Gustav’s the most calculating and Marianne’s the most vengeful. “My family,” thought Allen.

  The narrative ended and Gustav began. “There are possibilities in this to help us form a greater offense against her, if we can learn to capitalize on the sort of counter Allen managed to come up with in time. By the way, m’boy, that was some slick trick using Lincoln to turn the slaves into allies.”

  Ryan said that it was too late in the game to change tactics unless it could be shown that there was a reliable and quickly learned tool here. Marianne was about to add her own observations when Rachel said, “Wait.”

  She looked at her son, whom she raised from the time when there were no masks. She knew when he was holding something inside, and that look was upon him now. It wasn’t just facial expression. It was body language, attitude, where he directed his eyes and how often he shifted his gaze. It was breathing and the color in his cheeks. Years did add much to Allen’s maturity, but she could see through that.

  “There’s more, Allen. There’s something important you are holding back. Why, Allen? Why aren’t you telling us everything?”

  The others saw that Rachel’s intuition had hit the mark and felt chagrined that they were too busy buzzing to have noticed. Marianne sat on the bed next to Allen, thinking how wrong her friend was regarding Wonder Woman’s true identity. Rachel sat on the other side. Gustav pulled up a chair and waited quietly, respectfully. Ryan did likewise.

  “She said that she was now connected to me, like, like she connected to the soldiers when they were still alive. She said that if anyone were to interfere further with her punishment of the soldiers, well, the same thing that happened to them would happen to me.”

  There was no more to say, for that was all of it. But that short statement was probably a greater blow to their cause than every wall they had encountered to date, combined. Rachel put her hands to her face, mouthing prayers that this not be so. Marianne held Allen’s hand with her left, and placed her right on Rachel’s shoulder. Her eyes reached out to her best woman friend who was the mother of this fine man. Gustav and Ryan’s eyes met, and burned.

  Allen broke the silence. “I am not giving up. This is war. There are six of us against one of her and we have a whole goddamn Union platoon to back us up. Sending me to Australia isn’t going to accomplish much. Though her dream communication is range limited, she can still reach out with her unholy voodoo anywhere.”

  Gustav thought and said: “You don’t know that Allen. The soldiers were all pretty much from the northeast. I’ve heard that evil doesn’t cross bodies of water. Maybe visiting the kangaroos isn’t such a bad idea.”

  “It won’t work. I did my homework. One of the men died in Canada, one in South America and one while visiting France. They were among the last to go, but they still went.”

  Not to be argued down, again, Gustav countered, “That still may buy us the time to get the job done in three days. Also, having her spend more of her energy trying to find you may drain and weaken her for a while, enough to tip the scales.”

  Eyes were on Allen. There were pro’s and con’s they hadn’t begun to consider, and they had to consider them all if there was to be found a way out of this quagmire.

  Allen had seen a lot, done a lot, and learned a lot. He wasn’t perfect and he had his weaknesses (girls and coffee came to mind). “My father died helping a person in need. I don’t want to die, but I won’t turn my back on what Dad stood for, on those two children, on those poor soldiers, or on the team I have chosen to dedicate my life’s efforts. I’m part of this team. All egos aside, take me out and the team is weaker. That puts at risk the whole project. I couldn’t live with myself if I left now. Gustav, make with your legal magic and get me out of this place. We have a council of war to hold back at the suite.”

  “Yes sir, Boss.” Gustav left. Ryan watched him go. He felt good that Allen was continuing to come into his own, but there was just a little twinge at the gradual but cumulative ‘turning over the reins of power’. He would have hated a political career.

  Allen turned his eyes to his mother, who was almost beyond words. Her voice sounded hoarse when she was finally able to say, “Oh, son. I lost your father, who I will love until my last breath. The thought of losing you is more than I can bear.”

  “Mom, I have to stay, despite the risk. We’ll work out something to minimize it, but I would live the rest of my life in shame if I ran away now. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

  What could she say? The debate club president had just been pinned by her own son. Ironic, sort of. She should have been proud of Allen’s courage but, for the time being, she was only afraid. Maybe later, Vanessa could add something to the discussion that would help. She checked her watch. Vanessa had turmoil of her own right now.

  Mad Annie had been standing stock still on the porch with a terrible smile on her face. Vanessa could almost see a ribbon of force go from Mad Annie’s countenance, arcing west and out of sight. She wanted time to stop so that these sweet children wouldn’t suffer, but also to hurry so that she could find out what in God’s name was going on to the west. Was Ryan all right? And the others? Then, things began to change.

  First, Mad Annie grinned fiercely, like she struck a blow to an enemy. Then, barely at the edge of Vanessa’s consciousness, she could hear...singing? It was ten minutes before the Union men were to arrive. Mad Annie’s next expression, which she noticed in between game rounds and songs, was one of cold control, then surprise, then, terror? Mad Annie shook her head and staggered back, aware of her surroundings again.

  “Miss Vanessa, they’re almost here. You have to get away, now. Please, we’ll be here tomorrow. You can come back and play then. Please go, right now!”

  Another day, another nightmare. She felt numb all over as her feet stepped back only because the children willed it to be so. Nothing else would have overcome Vanessa’s waxing mothering instincts. The singing was getting louder. ‘Rally Round the Flag’ was now audible. Didn’t they know any other songs? Vanessa kept inching backwards, her hand up and forward, reaching to the children. In a minute, they disappeared.

  Mad Annie seemed surprised at the singing, but more surprised that her surprise wasn’t accompanied by an escape attempt. What surprised and angered her most of all was that Jed Patterson was singing along with the rest and didn’t make his usual attempt on her well-being. “How dare be not try to destroy me?”

  It took a little longer than expected to get everyone checked out of the ER. The main problem was Ralph. There was a psychiatric unit in clinical rotations with medical school interns. When interns get an interesting case, they don’t let it go eas
ily. It took a little more than the usual legal legerdemain on Gustav’s part to spring the shanghaied cabbie, who didn’t seem at all grateful. Ralph was about to verbally lay into the Number Two he had been so nice to earlier, when he couldn’t help but notice four other people close ranks. Worse, the front troop was that lovely lady he couldn’t stop thinking about since she first got in his cab.

  Gustav took control of the situation, waved off the others and told them to step outside for a moment. “Ralph, m’boy, that was a pretty awful thing I did, wasn’t it?”

  “You expect an argument?”

  “There were good reasons. First of all, I didn’t want you to go away. There isn’t another driver like you I’ve ever met.”

  “I would have waited, and your butter is missing the bread.”

  “Yes, yes, you probably would have. You are an honest type who is obviously faithful to his word. The second reason was that the mother of that young fellow you just saw was horribly distraught and I felt she needed something to take her mind off the possibility that her son be permanently brain injured or dead. You were handy and the situation presented itself. I counted on your ability to forgive an old man when he had the best of intentions.”

  “It’s getting deep, Mac.”

  “Finally, I wanted to see if you had a sense of humor. As a reward for your forbearance, tell you what I’ll do. There are six of us in total. Your large vehicle might get a bit cramped, but it will suffice. Suppose I arrange it so that MISS Marianne is in the middle of the front seat next to you. Might that lessen the hard feelings?”

  “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

  “Why does everybody keep saying that?”

  A laugh came from behind. Ralph hadn’t noticed the man approach and listen in. Gustav had mentioned Ralph to Ryan, who wanted to see if Ralph’s reported perceptiveness was true. He had need for perceptive people at the moment, a big need. Ralph thought the other man looked vaguely familiar.

  “Gustav, you spoke true of Ralph’s amazing powers of perception. Ralph, you and I are going to talk and I’ll make sure this whole fiasco will be made worth your while. That’ll be after we go to the hotel, of course. You will join us for a cup when we get back, won’t you? I’ll arrange the seating chart at the hotel restaurant, hint-hint.”

  “You two related?”

  Ryan answered, “Soul brothers only, does that count?”

  “It does now. OK, you set the hook. Now if you will just reel me into what used to be my cab and is now your personal conveyance for the duration of whatever it is you are doing, we’ll be off.”

  Walking out the ER doors to the waiting cab, Ryan said, “Gustav, I thought he’d put up more of a fight than that.”

  Gustav looked at Marianne and smiled. “It’s the bait.”

  Ryan announced that the afflicted child’s ‘G-cubed’ ancestor and mother should sit in back with him for moral support. Gustav said that he was a little nauseous and needed the front window seat. Marianne complained that she would have to have a leg on either side of the floor console. Ralph suppressed a smile.

  They didn’t feel like talking shop at the moment, so Ralph took it upon himself to tell about the interesting sights and histories of the region, some of his own life’s experiences and a few amusing stories. Part of his business was to make his customers happy and he had gotten pretty good at it. He kept his eyes front, but his peripheral vision naturally took in the rear view mirror, which happened to include a view of the eyes of his seat partner. He had seen the distrust in those eyes change gradually to something a little warmer. He had also seen the eyes of the mother in the back. She had been upset and terrified. Now, they were different. The new look in those eyes rose the hairs on his neck.

  Inside Rachel, Angel was polishing a rusty old sword. Cat’s tail was now in full battlebrush, and all her claws were scimitar shaped and fully extended. Though one form was of an angel and the other of a cat, the looks in their eyes were the same.

  Once more, Vanessa walked up to the porch. This time, it was different. Mad Annie had a look that bordered between panic and rage. Her face seemed to change between the two, like it couldn’t decide which was the right face. “Mrs. Edwards?” Mad Annie shook her head slightly, but still couldn’t break out. “Annie?”

  That caused a more definite response. This time, Annie shook her head more strongly and blinked a couple of times. Her mouth tried to begin a sentence of response, but was stuck on repeating the ‘th’ sound. She looked at Vanessa with difficulty, and tried harder. “Th-they, they tu-tu-tur-turned.” That was all she could get out, and then turned her eyes west again, shaking her head and rubbing her hands.

  “Who turned, Annie? Was it the soldiers? They’re gone now. You kept them, in your apron pocket, like you said. Was it Ryan? Did he turn? Was it because the children turned to face me when the soldiers came? Is that it? Annie?”

  Mad Annie turned and walked to one of the chairs on the porch. She looked at Vanessa, motioned to the other chair, and said, “Please set for a spell, Vanessa.”

  Vanessa walked to the chair and sat, and waited. All of the patrons had left the Homestead by the time Mad Annie could collect herself. “I could feel the soldiers get stronger. I can’t let them do that, Vanessa, for I’m not that strong. Yon don‘t know how much this has taken out of me. I reached out to them and found them coming as they should, but not like they should. They were, happier. What right do they have to be happy after all they have done? I wouldn’t allow it and let them know it. In the back of the line, something was there. I felt it. Ryan was there with someone else, younger, a man, both riding horses.”

  “(Oh, my God, that’s Allen, it has to be!”)

  “One was stronger and sighted. I didn’t have the bravery to address him. The other was easier and I put him to sleep so I could get him connected to me, like I did the soldiers, long ago.”

  (“I have to go, now. No, I have to stay and find out more, but it might be, but... What do I do?”)

  “I spoke to him in his mind, showed him the farm when it was young, how it was supposed to be. Tried to find out who is in Ryan’s gang so I can defend myself, but he cottoned to me and I had to send my slaves after him. He turned them against me, Vanessa. How could he do that? Vanessa, I’m frightened! The Private, the one who is mad? He has always tried to take my life, each day. Thank Heavens that the children are not around to see that when it happens. That would upset them mightily. He didn’t do that today. Why, Vanessa? What is happening to the world? I don’t understand. Can you help me?”

  Vanessa was torn, badly. This was too much. She grieved another day for dead children dying, hated/pitied Mad Annie but loved Nighttime Annie, wanted to go immediately to Ryan to find out what happened to Allen and maybe give him the information that just might be crucial to saving Allen, maybe, or to stay and perhaps win a bloodless victory by getting closer to Mad Annie. She wanted to scream. This was an opportunity that might never present itself again. Maybe she could jump on it quickly enough to at least make an inroad, then get right back to Ryan. Grieving would have to wait till later. She wanted to shake reality into Mad Annie’s mind, but felt instinctively that doing so would only lose this opening. Baby steps.

  “Annie, do you know where the men go when you send them away?”

  “Child, I told you before. I have them in my apron pocket. What does that have to do with what I asked of you?”

  “(Careful, baby steps.) Annie, if I’m going to help you, I’ve got to understand things rightly. Will you be patient with me?” A nod. “Good, now, where are those men right now? If I looked in your apron pocket, would I see them?”

  Annie looked down at her torn apron. There was the pocket she had used to hold clothespins in, once. It seemed empty, and she touched the outside of it. Nothing was in it. Was she going mad? Nothing seemed to make sense, like when Vanessa asked about eating something.
The creature of rage had been sated in Annie’s mind and the mad portion it lived behind was now left only with confusion and disorientation. When night fell, that portion, too, would withdraw and the sane but weaker part would surface. Annie was a multiple-fractured personality, which is what Vanessa had come to suspect. She remembered reading a book about a woman with many personalities, Sybil; that it was due to horrible abuse by her mother when she was a child. That thought led her to Jason and Rebecca, but only for a moment. They were on the shelf and would have to wait their turn.

  “(Is that it, Annie? Are you a Sybil? How did that doctor deal with it, get resolution, reunification?) Annie, they’re not there, are they?” Mad Annie slowly shook her head. “And when the sun rises tomorrow, you will bring them back from where you put them and you have no idea how you will do that, even though you have been doing that for two hundred years. Isn’t that true?” Mad Annie bit her lower lip, looked down in concentration, and then nodded. “You saw your children trampled today. They’re dead, aren’t they?” Wince, nod. “They will be back tomorrow, won’t they?” The nodding had become continuous. Good. Stick with questions that give the positive response.

  “(Rachel, stay with me.) People who die stay dead, don’t they, Annie? Your children are dead, and have been for two hundred years, haven’t they? The soldiers are dead, all of them, and you helped that to happen, didn’t you? One of them attacked you, when they first came, and you killed him with a kitchen knife, didn’t you? He killed you too, didn’t he?”

  Mad Annie stopped nodding. Her own death she couldn’t accept. The mad part of her mind that was active in the daytime would not let go of her life despite the evidence to the contrary. It was the part that was emotional, powerful, but capable of denial in magnificent proportion. The night-mind was calmer, more logical, more accepting, but lacking the power it needed to remain dominant during the daytime. It was also able to be aware of, to some degree, of the presence of those parts of her mind that denied her more passive self. As Vanessa continued to weave her gentle attacks, this became more and more apparent. The sun would set soon. The Annie that Vanessa had come to love would be allowed to come out again. Perhaps that side of Annie might now have insights as to how to proceed in the team’s efforts to free them all and, especially, shed light on what kind of power Mad Annie had over Allen and what could be done about it.

  While Vanessa was thinking of questions to keep Mad Annie’s attention, as there was another twenty minutes left before the changing of the personality guard was due, she heard, “Why Vanessa, you’re here already! But, child, isn’t that the sun?”

  Vanessa looked at Annie. It was her! The real one! But, the sun hadn’t set yet. What? “Annie?”

  “My dear sweet Lord, look at that sunset. I haven’t seen one in so long. Sweet Jesus, but it’s beautiful. Did you do this, Vanessa? Am I well?”

  She didn’t know, so, “I don’t know, Annie. I was talking to your mad self and you came along early. Maybe we fixed everything, but I don’t think so. I think we made a little progress. Annie, can you recall meeting anyone that seemed to be different people at different times?”

  “You mean like me, mad and sane?”

  “Maybe. Someone who seemed like they were two or more different people living in one body.”

  Annie thought as she continued to watch the last of the sunset. Vanessa couldn’t deny her that and waited patiently. “I recall Zachary Masterson, when I was a young woman in Savannah. He was about my age. I remember his mother had died a long time before and his father raised him. I don’t remember the father’s first name, only called him ‘Mr. Masterson’. I saw bruises on Zachary from time to time, and we all figured that his father beat him when he, his father that is, got drunk, which was about every night. Zachary was nice to people most of the time, but sometimes a fit or something took him over and he swore, grabbed women in public and even urinated on the court house rose bushes. Eventually, something would snap back and the old Zachary would come back not remembering anything about what had happened. Is that what you are talking about? Is that what happened to me?”

  “Maybe, Annie. But if so, and since the real you came back earlier with just the little talking I did to your mad self, maybe we can do more than that. But something’s not right about the whole picture. I think there are more than two of you. There’s a third Annie that’s separate and distinct from the other two.”

  Vanessa went on to tell about how the Annie that was there after the men left didn’t know about where the men were sent, or her children for that matter. Mad Annie could admit most things that were real, temporarily, but could not accept her own death. It seemed there was an ‘Angry Annie’ riding herd on ‘Mad Annie’, who was too disoriented to know who was pulling the puppet strings.

  “Child, you are over your head, aren’t you?” It was now Vanessa’s turn to wearily nod. “Go to Ryan and your family. Tell them all that you have learned and see what they have to say. I’ll try my best to do some thinking here. This may be the key that unlocks to release all our souls from this earthly Hell. Go quickly, and Vanessa?”

  “Yes?”

  “1 love you, child. Thank you for all that you have done. ”

  “I love you too, Annie. I’ll be back.”