joegoda | The Kansas Incident.

41038 / 50000 words. 82% done!

It wasn't a second or two after I felt the car turn the first corner that I heard the siren. Tim pulled over, of course, as he is a law-abiding citizen.

"Damn," I heard him say, "they're pulling up right behind me." I heard the whirr of the window motor as Tim rolled the window down. He turned to Sherry and asked, "Where's your insurance papers?"

"In the glove box," she said. I heard the box pop open and someone was rummaging through the stuff in it. "Here it is."

I scrunched down as far as I could, making myself very, very tiny and shoving all thoughts of being invisible to the forefront. "Where's April and the scoobies?"

"They went on," he said. "Oh... skip that. They're pulling in front of me." And then, "April's getting out of the truck."

A deep authoritative voice said, "Ma'am, please get back into your vehicle. This doesn't concern you."

I heard April say, "I'm traveling with them, officer."

"Then," the cop told her, "if I find a reason to talk to you, I'll come to you." His voice took on a more threatening tone. "Please, ma'am. Get back in your vehicle."

I didn't hear April say anything more, and I was hoping she took his advice. 'No trouble, no trouble, no trouble' became my mantra.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Tim's voice had raised an octave, and he sounded just a bit nervous.

"License and insurance verification," was the terse reply.

"Here they are, sir." Tim paused, and then added, "I'm driving my friend's car."

"I'll be back in a minute," the cop said. I heard the crunch of his shoes on gravel, moving away from the car.

"He's checking us out," Tim told me.

"Duh," I whispered. "Quit talking to me, I'm not here."

"Thought you might like to know," he said.

"Nope, not really," I grumped back. "Just wanna know when he's gone. Now, stop talking to me."

"Okay!" I think I hurt his feelings, but sometimes less is more, you know?

I lay there crouched under the jackets and let my mind drift back to the officer behind us. He wasn't hard to find. His color was steel blue, cold and solid. I touched his mind, just a teeny bit, and felt a recoil. I quickly drew back to my own little head.

So, these guys were ready for me. What to do, what to do? An idea, wild and fuzzy came to my head, and I thought to myself, "What the heck?"

I made a new kite and shot it to the Soular Winds. I made it very, very small, smaller than I would have thought possible, but then I never thought about making a small one, so there you have it. I let it sail past us, far to the south, back to that place we stopped at in Chautauqua. I set it to hovering above a reddish green spot and I told it to stay there, right there, and don't budge. Reddish green is some sort of life form, and I didn't really care what type. I wasn't there to socialize.

When I was satisfied that the kite wasn't going to drift off - yes, we have to have constant control over these sort of things. What? You thought magic is an exact science? Think again, bub. A lot of it is calculated risk taking. Being stupid is how wizards die.

Anyway, when I was satisfied that the kite would stay put, kind of attached to the reddish green aura, I sent a shoot out from it BACK to us, or rather, back to where the cop was. I pushed on his steel blue aura and felt it stiffen. I pushed a bit harder and felt it bite. I pushed just a little harder still, and felt the cop's signature wrap himself around me like a vise.

Bait taken.

I withdrew as quickly as I could, trying to appear panicked and pulled it back to the kite. The cop's signature was still attached, but just barely. I had twisted and turned like the biggest carp in the pond, trying to not exactly get away, and not exactly lose him, either.

When I got back to the kite, I let the shoot wrap itself around the kite, covering it in my own signature, until the kite glowed a soft sky baby blue, which by the way is my own color. Then I did something a bit painful.

I cut the string to the kite and let it drift along the currents. The kite was still attached by the barest strings to whatever it was I had told it to stay with, so hopefully, when whatever it was moved, so would the kite.

Cutting the string is sort of like clipping of your own finger. Pretty darn painful, because what you are essentially doing is cutting off part of your soul, aura, spiritual energy... whatever you want to call it, and it hurt like hell, and brought tears to my eyes.

I heard, through the mental pain, the sound of shoes running toward the car.

"Here you are, sir." The cop sounded much more polite this time. "You checked out. Enjoy your visit." I heard him run back to his car, heard his door slam and heard the squeal of his tires as he took off at high speed.

"Wonder what got him all excited," Tim said as he rolled up his window.

I gritted my teeth and tossed the jackets off me. "I'll tell you later. Get me to Christie's."

"Are you hurt?" Sherry sounded and looked worried, peering over the back seat at me. "Are you okay?"

"April's getting out of her truck again," Tim observed.

"I don't care if Mother Teresa is coming this way," I hissed out. "Drive!"

Tim started the car and pulled forward off the shoulder.

Sherry rolled down her window and shouted to April, "Chet's hurt! Follow us!"

Without squealing, Tim, trying his best not to speed (did I mention he's a law-abiding citizen?), pulled up to the corner and stopped, briefly.

"Stop sign," he told me over his shoulder. "Sorry."

"Stupid stop sign," I growled. I had a pain in my head that felt just as if someone had taken pruning shears to one of my ears. Maybe both of them. "Sherry," I said, my voice slurring just a bit so it came out, "Shrry." "I need you for a second."

"What?" She took off her seatbelt and leaned way over the seat to me. "What can I do?"

"I'm really sorry," I slurred to her, "but I gotta give you some of this pain. Okay?"

Sherry pulled her mamma smile on to her face, that sad smile that says, "I'm sorry you're hurting honey, mamma will try to make it all better."

"Give me your hand," I told her, "and grit your teeth. This is gonna hurt." I took her hand and muttered, "I'm sorry, really."

Her eyes flew open wide, wider than I think I'd ever seen them, and her mouth formed a big 'O' and she moaned from the shock and pain. She moaned, and it broke my heart. I let go of her hand immediately.

Shaking her head, she reached back and grabbed my hand, hard. "No," she gritted out, "no. Don't you dare deny me this." She threw back her head and squeezed her eyes tight for a moment. "I can take this," she muttered. "If I can take labor pains, I can take this."

Already the pain between my ears was diminishing. Tim was starting to freak just a bit.

"What? What? Can I do anything? What can I do?"

"Just pull over to the Subaru, chum," I told him. "Hurry, okay?"

Tim tromped on the gas and the car shot forward, almost tossing Sherry into my lap.

"In this family," she said to me, her eyes bloodshot and full of hurt, "we help each other. You hear that? Nobody is alone."

I had no idea the amount of pain I subjected Sherry to. She never fully told me, and I think this was to keep me from feeling guilty. No, I don't think so; I know so. That's just how she is. I feel guilty anyway.

"We're there," Tim announced as he slammed on the brakes.

He jumped out of his door and came over to mine. He pulled it open, and helped me out of the car. Sherry finally let go of my hand and sat there, panting.

"Get him inside," she said. "I'll be all right. I just need to sit here for a minute."

April's truck door slammed and I heard her say, "What happened? You took off like a bat out of hell!"

"Chester did something to her," Tim told her. "Make sure she's okay."

"If he hurt her...," April's voice trailed off.

"What's going on?" Charity and Craig joined the crowd. "Is Sherry all right?"

"Chester did something," April said.

"No," Sherry explained, "I'm fine. Just let me rest for a minute."

"Where are we going?" Tim had his arm under my left shoulder and pulled me through the front yard to Christie's door.

"In here," she said as she flung the door open. "I heard him yell all the way over here." Christie joined time with an arm under my other shoulder. "Help me get him to the sofa."

Tim and Christie manhandled me over to and dropped me on her soft brocade sofa. She crossed her arms and said, "What did you do, child?"

Tim echoed her with "What did you do?" His voice had dropped down into his growly register, where he's not worried as much as ticked off. "Is Sherry going to be okay?"

"There's another one?" Christie flew out the front door.

"She'll be all right," I told my best friend. "I had to share some of my pain with her, is all. It'll fade pretty quick because it's not her pain, see?"

"Shared your pain?" Tim sounded confused. "You can do that?"

"I'd rather not," I told him, "if I have the choice."

Christie flew back in and headed toward the kitchen.

"What did you do?" Tim repeated. "How did you get rid of that officer?"

"I gave him," I said tiredly, as the pain had faded to tolerable levels, but now I was just worn out from it, "a false lead to follow. He's headed toward Chautauqua. I hope he took his buddies with him."

A glass of something purple was pushed into my hand by Christie. "Drink!" she ordered and then out the front door she went, carrying another glass.

"I think you better do what the lady says, Chet," Tim advised. "She looks pretty serious."

It smelled sweet and looked like plum juice. I raised it to my lips and gave it test taste. It was as sweet as it smelled, but it was a gentle sweet, not over powering. I detected a bit of licorice and a touch of mint. I drank a bit, and then drank a bit more and then finished it all.

"Pretty darn good," I admitted. The pain had almost flushed completely out of my head and I was feeling good. Not as good, admittedly as when I ate the snowballs, but still, not hurting is a good feeling.

Christie came back with the rest of our gang. The four of them stood in the doorway while she came over to me and knelt, taking one of my hands in hers.

"Dear boy," she whispered to me. "Dear, dear boy. You simply must not put others at risk like that." She had tears in her eyes. "You simply must not."

"Grandmother," I said, "if I had seen any other option, I would have taken it. I needed to be at my best tonight. Sherry's taken my pain before." I rose up and looked at my other best friend in the world. "I'm sorry I hurt you, honey."

Sherry came over and sat near my feet. "It's okay," she said, patting my leg. "Well, not really okay, because it hurt like a son of a biscuit eater, but I understand. I'd do it again, if I had to, if you needed it."

Christie released my hand and stood up. "You, Chester, have some very powerful friends, don't you?"

"Yes, Grandmother," I told her, smiling. "That I do." I drained the last drop out of the glass. "What was this stuff you gave me?"

Sherry was licking the rim of hers. "Yes, please," she said to Christie. "It was delicious and took the pain right away. What is it?"

Christie smoothed her sundress. "It's from a company called Tizane. It's an herbal drink brewed to make you feel better. It's supposed to have curative properties for the soul."

I nodded and sat up, saying, "I don't doubt that for a second. It sure did the trick on me." I looked at Sherry, concerned. "Better?"

"Yep," she said. "Fit as a fiddle. Even my legs don't hurt."

Sherry had been having some aches and pains from the user of an antibiotic called Levaquin. Her doctor neglected to tell her it might cause some tendon damage. I hadn't decided what sort of revenge to take out on him as of yet.

Sherry asked for the name of the drink.

"It's an infusion of Hibiscus, rose hips, and some other healing herbs," Christie told her. Turning to the rest of our group, she asked, "And what can I get for you five? Lemonade?"

-*-

We gathered around Christie's little table with the women seated and Tim, Craig took up watch positions in the corner of the room. I paced as I talked and explained to Christie what our plan was.

"And hopefully, once I get Lawrence's conscious mind back here, I'll need Cat to take us to the windmill." I looked at Christie. "There's something there that I need. I think it'll open a gateway and send Ammit back to where he came from, maybe forever."

"Are you even sure the almanac is in the depository?" Christie knitted her hands on the tablecloth. "What if it isn't?"

"Then," I said, "we'll go to plan B."

"What's plan B?" Sherry was eating a bit of lemon cake.

"I dunno yet," I replied sheepishly. "But I'll think of something."

"Okay," Craig put in. "What if you find this book and we're able to get Lawrence alone. Then what?"

"Umm." I hadn't thought that far. "If you can drive the 'Bads out of the townsfolk, just like we did the Leprechaun back at Potbelly's, I think they'll be pretty useless to him, as far as a physical army. At the very least, I'm hoping you'll cause enough of a distraction, that you can just sort of...," I paused, looking for the best word. There wasn't one, so, "umm... kidnap Lawrence." I looked at Craig. "Then you three will get him out of McCann's and bring him to me." Not bad for thinking on my feet. "We'll tie him in a chair and then I'll talk to him."

"Umm," Tim ummed. "So, if I have this straight, the folks at the restaurant are possessed by the 'Bads? And they might attack us?"

"Yeah," I admitted to him. "That's a real possibility. At least they may attack Craig, Charity and April. You and Sherry are going to stay here and guard my back and Christie's front."

"I dunno, Chet," Craig told me. "I don't like the idea of hitting women and children."

April smiled. "Don't think of them as women and children, Craig. Think of them as being zombies." She looked at me. "We're sort of talking about 'Village of the Damned' meets 'Children of the Corn' here, right? Townsfolk being led by and evil outside of normal reality?"

"Yeeeaaaahhh," I said, smiling to match hers. "Something like that."

"So," she said, putting a finality on it, "zombies."

"But don't kill anyone, okay?"

"Oh, we won't," Charity said. "Nobody'll be killed. Cross our hearts."

"Good," I said. "This isn't their fault, you know?"

"Is it okay if we bruise them a bit?" Charity looked hopeful.

"Umm..." I looked at Craig. "Can you control her a little? She's entirely too happy about this."

Craig got the same smile as Charity. "There's no controlling her. I don't even try. But I'll make sure there's as little bruising as possible."

"Let's just pretend," I admonished them, "that there won't be any bruising or hitting going on, okay?" Sheesh, sometimes it was like talking to children, I swear. "Just like with the leprechaun, use laughter and good feelings to drive out the 'Bads, okay? I know you can do this, because you've done it before. You're the best bunch of sarcastic, funny, smartasses I've ever had the pleasure to call my friends." I gave Charity a piercing glare. "That's what I meant by obnoxious. Don't be mean unless you have to. The 'Bads live off of meanness and hurt, remember? Be funny, be sarcastic without harm. It's important. Get them to laugh. Bring your light into their cave and help them see."

"Bring our light...." Charity rolled that around. "And if that doesn't work?"

"Then I'll leave it to Craig to make sure there's as little bruising as possible," I said grimly. "The most important thing is that you get Lawrence down to the book depository. I'm hoping to be in it long before you guys make your move."

Tim was looking a bit sad. "What about us? Me and Sherry? We're just going to sit here and do nothing?"

"Oh," Christie said, pulling the same grim face I suspect I had. "You won't be doing nothing, child. If what Chester has in mind starts to do what it sounds like it'll do, this is the first place the Shadows are going to come to. If they get released from the bodies of the townsfolk, they're going to head straight to the garden, and we're going to fight them off."

"Shadows?" Sherry's eyebrows rose. "There's a garden?"

"That's what she calls the 'Bads," I explained. "And you really ought to see the garden." I, once again, pointed a look at Charity. "Really, you should." I looked back to Christie.

"Shall we go take a look at the Garden," she asked. "It's not quite five o'clock yet, the sun is still up and I don't think you," meaning me, " would want to go breaking and entering in full daylight."

"By all means," I said, "let's go to the garden."

Sherry and Charity went all girly on the garden. They were talking about the different plants and flowers, about how pretty they all were, and who did the arrangement, etc, etc. April sort of hung back.

When Christie asked her why she was so reticent, April replied, "Because every plant I've touched has died. The only thing I can grow is mold."

Christie nodded sagely. "I know how you feel, dear. I'm quite a bit the same way."

"Then how," Sherry said, "did you get all these flowers and plants to grow like this? Some of these are way past their blooming season."

"Cat keeps the garden," Christie said. "I can't even go down there."

"Really?" Charity asked in surprise. "You can't go down there? Ever?"

"It's something Plumb did to keep her safe," I explained. "It gives her plausible deniability."

"If you mean it keeps me from going to the windmill," Christie put in, looking out over the garden, "and that keeps Lawrence's men plucking the location out of my mind, then you're might be correct. All I know is the Bobby put up a ward to keep me from ever going into the garden. He never told me exactly why."

She turned to face the six of us. "Now, what you two will be doing," indicating Tim and Sherry, "will be keeping me from being distracted, so I can keep this place safe. For decades I've made it fairly invisible to the few Shadows that pass near or over." She nodded at me. "Chester has alerted them that there is something unusual here when he crossed over to the windmill."

"I didn't mean to," I said.

"Oh, child," she soothed, laying a slim hand on my arm. "It is something that had to be. You're the one that Bobby chose, so you can't do wrong. It was necessary, and will be important."

"Grandmother, you honor me," I said to her, bowing deep. "I will need you and my friends to hold this place secure until I make it to the windmill and back." I turned to Tim and Sherry. "It's not going to be easy, you two. Christie will do the magic, and she'll probably be using you guys for... um...."

"Amplifiers," she supplied, "Of a sort." To Sherry, she said, "You two are great friends. I can see that, and the bond you two share is very strong. I will need to 'borrow' that bond to reinforce my own strength." She grew a tired smile. "You see, living alone, I've developed my own doubts and my own fears. You two will keep an old woman company, and help her drive back some of the darkness. If only for a little while."

Sherry took one of Christie's hands. "It would be our pleasure." She turned to Tim. "Won't it?" When he didn't answer immediately, she took on a bit stronger tone. "Won't it?"

Tim just shuffled his feet. "Yeah, it'll be fun." He turned to me and pouted, "how come they get to go beat up women and children and I don't?"

I didn't tell him then, and I haven't told him to this day, but there were some wounds that needed to be healed and only he and Sherry could do it, and they would have to do it together.

"Don't be such a big baby, you big baby," I grumbled at him. "I know you want to stay and tell Christie stories about your adventures on the road. Besides, there will be plenty for you to beat up, once I come back from the windmill."

"Well...," Tim nodded. "I guess I can live with that."

"You're a traveler?" Christie looked at Tim. "Where too? Are you a world traveler, child?"

"No, ma'am," Tim explained. "I've done some traveling to conventions and I try to go to Burning Man when I can..."

"Oh!" Christie clapped her hands. "Burning Man! I've always wanted to go. Maybe when this is all done and over, I'll be able to. You must tell me all about it!"

"Great," Sherry groused. "Now he'll never shut up."

"Where's the fairy?" Charity was looking over the railing, stretching as far over as she could to try to see. "Does she live in that little house?"

"I'm not a fairy, kid." A purple flash flew up at Charity and bumped her on the nose. "I'm a pixie, and don't you forget it."

"Oh," Charity laughed, "she's soooo cute!"

"Cute?" Cat crossed her arms and turned to me, looking petulant. "Did she just call me cute?"

"Folks," I motioned to Cat by way of introduction, " meet Catherine, Pixie guardian of the garden. Cat, meet my best friends in the whole world."

"Man," she said to me, flitting left and right like an angry mosquito. "You must have been really desperate."

"Cat," I told her in a deadly serious voice, "these are my friends, and if I'm right, then we'll not only going to beat the bad guys, but I think we can bring your clan back from wherever they went."

Cat stopped in her tracks. I mean, she quit flapping her wings and everything, falling straight down to the ground like a rock.

She bounced once, and then asked me from where she sat, "What? What do you mean, back from wherever they went? Nobody can do that." She stood up, rubbing her backside, and glaring at me from her place on the ground.

"Nobody has ever tried, Cat," I said to her. "At least, nobody I've ever known or heard of." I turned to Christie. "Grandmother, have you ever head of it being done?"

Christie shook her head. "No. No, child, I never have. It doesn't mean it can't be, just that I've never heard of it being done before." She looked down at Cat. "That also doesn't mean that it hasn't been done before."

"Huh." Cat said. Then a bit more brightly. "Huh!" She twirled from the ground up to the air and buzzed to my face. "How? Howhowhowhowhow? Tell me how?"

"I think," I told her, "that once I find them out where they went, then I can bring them back. See, no magical creature can be destroyed. They can only be changed or trapped. I'm thinking they're trapped and I'm thinking that Ammit did it. I'm thinking that all you pixies were messing him up, what with keeping the flowers pretty and the grass all green."

"Trapped?" Cat was skeptical. "Not around here." She twirled with her arms outspread. "I've searched this entire garden for some clue of them." She landed on the tip of my nose and sat there, crossing her arms. "'Tain't none to be found."

"I'm thinking that once Ammit is defeated," I tried to sound assuring, " then the trap will just sort of... disappear. You're folks will show up as if by magic." I grinned.

"Humph." Cat dropped down the garden again, and looked up at me from her front porch. I'll believe it when I see it." But I could tell she was hopeful. She had a half grin and a bit of a twinkle in her eye. "I'll be here when you need me, Chester Beebe. And your friends too."

She went disappeared into her house, and I could hear, just faintly, the sound of a pixie celebrating.

"Child," Christie said, touching my arm. "I truly hope you can do what you say you can do."

"I'm going to give it my best shot, Grandmother." I saw the sun starting to turn dark pink. I sighed. "I guess it's time." I led the others inside.

Turning to Craig, I said, "Give me ten minutes, and then head over to the restaurant. It's two blocks up Main, on the other side of the street."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Good luck, you guys," I said at the front door. "If this goes well, then we won't have to worry bout the 'Bads for a very long time. I hope."

They passed me their good lucks, and I stepped out of Christie's front door. It was time to practice my skills of old, when my brothers and I used to break into houses... just for fun. Fun. That wasn't exactly how I'd describe this time, though.