

The Green Bus And The X-O Factor!

Techno Forces And The Great Green Con

### By Michael M. Tickenoff

Copyright © 2014 by Michael M. Tickenoff

Second Edition 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

### DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to those Route 66 cadets from long ago. It was an adventure meeting you young dreamers looking for a short cut to the heavens. I hope you found your way.

I did some tweaking with your lives and the story itself, adding in a bit of fictional fun. But the Green Bus, remains true.

Oh, and I hope you did finally escape the power of Etroid the great Green Con!

Remember those long talks in the desert; watching the night skies for a get away?

Adventure begins in your mind...

don't let it end there!

Adventure begins in your mind...

don't let it end there!

### INTRODUCTION

Journalist and young adventurous loner, Luke Mitchner, was on the road again. His editor and friend Dustin Arrow, Mitchner's best friend and companion who was also his long time editor and lawyer, had suggested that the opportunity of a lifetime was awaiting any enterprising journalist at the triple moon colony blast off in Florida. Luke could have flown there and saved some time and money but his choice was to cross the country by hitchhiking.

Luke's choice of travel to the moon blast-off took him into a journey of a lifetime.

His life had taken some difficult turns. He was still in the gray of mourning for his grandparents killed a year earlier in a small plane crash in the Canadian Rockies. That was pretty well the end, for his family. Even though Dustin, his companion in life, had advised against such a trip by thumb, Luke wanted a slow and easy get-away trip across the southern states. One that offered him a bit of freedom and time alone to consider what this disaster would mean for his life and the lives of the many people affected by his grandparents deaths. They had built and supported many operations like mining and ranching, and projects like medical centers in remote places.

This present life crisis had its good side and its bad side, like a coin with two faces, back to back and welded together. On the one part his grandparents had left him their fortunes; they had willed, entrusted and assigned their vast holdings over to young Luke—no light matter. On the other side of the coin was the face of the Canadian Court system and its mountain range of red tape.

The Canadian Court System had stepped into the probate procedures and tied everything up with their inheritance rules, taxes and a hundred law suits.

On top of all this, because this was a high profile case, many companies and enterprises were involved, everyone wanting their cut from this huge rich pie. How it was going to be resolved Luke and his Lawyer Dustin had no idea. But with the loss of his only family, Luke had no immediate care for the vast inheritance.

Luke for now, just wanted to stay free, to travel and continue on with his unordinary story searches and investigative journalism. This desire would come to pass, but not in any way he had ever dreamed.

He knew that these latest events had placed a great responsibility on his shoulders, but he was unsure how to go about carrying them. This life style had worked well for him in the past three years and his reputation as a journalist was slowly picking up momentum.

However, curious journalists and a few investigators had been trying to trace Luke down because he was big news in the Canadian financial circles and was now going to take the helm of a massive fortune and all the companies that were a part of it.

Therewith, he departed his apartment in Newport Beach and staying low key, he had taken the train to Phoenix and began thumbing east on Route 66.

Somehow, the long stretches of empty highway and the passing cars brought back memories of old days of freedom and adventure. In his own way, Luke wanted to embed those feelings into his very soul, for he knew that great changes were in his future. How great, he did not know, but for the sake of memory he wanted to blueprint that feeling of independence and serendipitous adventure into his mind and heart.

There was no doubt he knew big events and serious challenges were on their way. All the same, before these great responsibilities stepped in and would attempt to immunize his spirit of liberty and adventure, he would once again walk directly into the gears of the blueprint memory machine!

### CHAPTER ONE – ON THE ROAD

Heading due east on Highway 66, a new season of hellish snow blasted out of the North. It began blowing like a welcome to Siberia storm around me. Evening was already far blurred into the oncoming storm with icy blasts beginning to howl against me. Dimmed headlights reflected through the blustering snowfall, beautifying the flakes into pure white sparks of wonder. This unexpected storm mixed itself with heavy white flurries, blanketing the high desert with a mid-autumn cover on the famous Arizona Flagstaff plateau. My feet crunched the snow underfoot, walking backwards holding out my traveling hand postulating for another generous traveler to consider my fate and possibly stop for this weary stranger headed to warm and exciting Florida.

Soon the traffic thinned to a long empty road while blowing snow turned this lone figure into a white shadow. Hope somehow arose within me for the twentieth time when from out of the "Valley Of The Sun" came a gear-grinding tune, calling to my frozen ears, offering a faint chance.

From out of the misty flurries, I saw a green bus slowly appear. For the moment, it seemed a slow moving apparition, hesitantly making a decision, possibly worried if it might not make it up the hill if it stopped. Apparently confidence was with it, as it slowed. The door flung open and from out of its secret interior, a well-tanned face, rather a grubby looking driver, maybe 20 years old, tossed this snow flecked loner a careful look of summing over. Several moments passed as I stood there being scrutinized and inspected to see if I was worthy to enter this unknown realm.

Then with a rough but unsure voice calling out, "Hey man, jump in before we start rolling back down to Phoenix."

Apparently I made it through check point one.

The cold wind almost pushed me, the half frozen journalist, up and through the open door, with the image of wide open jaws swallowing a lost critter into the warm breathing of a beast.

The door immediately shut behind, sealing off the blasting winds, at the same time locking this sojourner into a powerful story waiting to be told.

While the driver began urging the bus up the snow covered highway, another voice from within the shadows inquired, "Where you headed, man?"

I stood quiet for a moment, eyes adjusting, while listening to the windshield wipers sloshing back and forth trying to keep the snow from piling up. I turned towards the inquiring voice to see a young man sprawled in the dimly lit interior holding onto the side of a cluttered bunk. As I dusted the snow off my beard, I gave a cheerful but chattering reply, "I'm headed east to sunny Florida. Then maybe up to New York."

"Oh wow, that is where we're going, but what the heck you want with New York?" a second voice sarcastically asked from out of the side bunk shadows.

Looking back I could see that it was a short bus, made into a traveling van. The interior was fitted with bunks, a planked table was secured in the middle, with two surfboards suspended from the ceiling and a crude butane stove wedged in behind the driver and the nearest bunk. Various boxes and assorted camping gear was piled around and in between the secured furniture. Holding onto the entry pole waiting to see what might be, I was enjoying the musty warmth, listening to the different greetings rising up out of the darkened interior. I removed one glove and rubbed the melting snow off my face and beard.

I hesitantly waited to answer while trying to make my eyes adjust to the nearly claustrophobic atmosphere.

Shadowy faces would suddenly appear, like in one of those old time movie reels gone jumpy, then slowly fade away in the blurred headlights of oncoming cars. I got my footing after a few swaying turns and could see maybe three bodies tucked into the bunks running along the sides.

Answering with the thought of a long journey ahead, I easily said, "Well, not really looking to spend time in New York. But from what I hear, it's the best place to fly out of for Europe."

This Europe thing managed to bring to life two younger guys out of their bunks, and they were soon asking me questions. "Doesn't it cost tons of bucks to fly to Europe?" asked one shaggy haired kid with a flashy ear stud, roughly 16 in years.

"Not really. From what I'm hearing you can get to Europe for under 200 bucks," I passed on what I knew.

"That's a lot of bucks, you got that much money for a ticket?" inquired a stocky, broad shouldered, brown and handsome looking American Indian fellow, who had carefully moved up and now stood behind the driver.

I knew I had made my first mistake by being a little too open about costs among strangers, but replied, "Not yet, having my editor wire me out some bucks once I get things arranged."

"Editor? You got an editor?" the shaggy haired kid, who was now leaning forward, aggressively inquired of me with interest. He went on excitedly, "I take pictures," and pointed to the walls of the bus where I could see photos tacked up in every open space.

"Well...I'm sort of a freelance journalist and go all over looking for stories. My editor and friend Dustin Arrow handles my business and sells my articles and stories while I'm on the road."

This information brought the young photographer off his bunk, swinging his feet to the floor asking, "You think your editor might ever need some really far out photos?"

I had to admire this kid's aggressiveness. I could not see the quality of his photos but offered him hope that it might be possible; we could check it out later. It looked like I made my first friend.

The driver adjusted his iron studded cap, glancing up at me, "Hey that's cool, how'd you get that gig?"

"I've been writing ever since I was a surf bum and wrote articles for surfing magazines when I was in high school. In time I got hooked up with a few solid publishers."

This was the simplest and the truest way of describing my somewhat complicated existence and my present 24 year old life, which had just been further complicated by the deaths of my grandparents. I was entering into one of my greatest challenges ever; but that was not for sharing now.

I quickly turned the questioning back onto the grubby group of what seemed to be even more weary souls than myself. "So where have you guys been and where are you headed?"

The driver turned and said that they had been to California for the summer, surfing and hanging out with girls and partying. Now they were headed across country through New Mexico, Texas and onto Florida and then back home to Iowa.

He paused to check out the highway ahead and then offered me a solid ride all the way to Florida, "Hey, you're welcome to travel along with us as far as we're going east but you're gonna have to share a little with the gas."

I nodded and said, "Sure. Sounds good."

### CHAPTER TWO – GETTING ACQUAINTED

Still standing and holding onto the bus pole up front, things went silent as if everyone was suddenly awaiting their fate through my answer.

Flickering shadows danced around the walls while passing tail lights cast their red glows across anxious faces and flickered into the cluttered interior until what seemed to be an unacceptable grunt merged from the back lower bunk. A blunt feeling of fear filled the dark silence and I thought for a moment that the invitation to travel with this group had failed to pass through the top managerial officer. I just let this sink in, nothing I could do at the moment, so continued looking out at the storm and the growing darkness, the trees bowing with snow.

I thought momentarily, maybe take the path of least resistance, "Sure, I will be willing to help out a little as we go. But ain't got too much more than a few spare bucks until I get to Florida and send in my story."

"Cool man. What kind of a story are you writing?" inquired the driver, again adjusting his cap and squinting into the snowy night.

Clearing my throat first, "I hope to get some kind of an interview with the Space Center PR people, or something along those lines. You know about the Triple International and US World Space Launch, don't you, to set up the colony on the moon?"

Again, everything seemed to go quiet, the outside noise of passing cars and trucks flowing into the void. This interrupting annoyance became an obvious flag of caution for the longest time.

The silence held until the young shaggy haired photographer kid cleared his voice with some excitement and said, "Wow, great gobs of goodness, that is where Etroid is taking us. Or at least somewhere close to that."

Then the driver turned his head to me and inquired with narrow eyed suspicion, "Why would you be hitchhiking to Florida for a story instead of just flying out?"

It was a fair question and I would have been wondering about this myself if I were in their seats. I learned way back when, it's not a wise thing to give out too much information about oneself, to anyone other than a close tested friend, no less a bus load of strangers.

But I answered him honestly, or at least as honest as I could, "Ah, I have found that sometimes there are more stories on the way to the story than the story itself. And besides, this old mother Route 66 has a lot of history, so I thought I might pick up insights to a future story, if I traveled it at least to Texas."

With some hesitancy stirred into the voice I heard one of the guys behind me say, "That's fine with us, every little bit counts right now. We're broke after the California scene, man. Hope you get a great story." This statement came from what I would learn later was Josh, the crew's oldest member, and their number one banker.

Now that they knew I was willing to contribute a little, they loosened up some and introduced themselves. The driver was Jethro, the twin brother to Josh the banker. The native American looking fellow, standing as if a guard behind Jethro and watching me with dark hooded eyes was Indian Joejo. The other three back in their bunks were Gunther, shaggy Abel the photographer, and Josh.

For some reason in this introduction they failed to mention the long lanky guy stretched out on the prime centered bunk in the back. In a moment of silence they glanced at each other with questioning eyes and seem to want the driver to handle this part of the introduction.

Jethro waited a few minutes, looked out at the side view mirrors, adjusted his cap again, as if thinking how to say whatever he had to say and finally spoke in a hushed but respectful tone, "The Commander there in the back is our Guru...Etroid!"

Okay, I thought, this is getting good, and I looked down the aisle through the moving shadows to take a better look at the Etroid guru fellow. This was one of those strange moments that make traveling a little apprehensive but also enhances the excitement and often turns a simple trip into an all out adventure. Now as the many colored lights of Flagstaff's passing signs and cars flashed into the bus, I caught flickering glimpses of this so-called guru.

He was definitely tall, lanky and very bedraggled. It was hard to make out any details of his features in the changing shadows. But his sandy brown hair was long, tangled and dirty; his hands were thin, long fingered; and it appeared as though he was plugged into another realm, murmuring to something beyond himself.

What was really strange about this guy—was his eyes. I know that eyes tell a story and exist as windows unto a soul. Immediately I knew this guy had a few best sellers of science fiction horror, just floating behind his eyelids.

I love old treasures and his eyes reminded me of polished silver deplumes found in a velvet lined treasure chest. Oh yes, if there was anything to remember about this guru character, it was his eyes.

Later his eyes would nearly captivate me into believing his incredible story, but that will come later. Nodding in Etroids direction, I received no recognition. So taking in the scene, not knowing if I had stepped into a whacko psycho bus or maybe even a serial killing gang, I decided to keep it simple and just said, "My name is Luke Mitchner, but I also write under the name of M.M. Michaelson."

There was a surprised injection of excitement by Able, "Hey, I know that name, I've read some of your stories in the surf magazines. Is that really you?"

I nodded and went on, "I grew up in Canada but went to college in California and spent most of my life along the West Coast," and this broke open the iceberg a little.

"Hey, why don't you put your pack down and sit down on the trunk," urged Indian Joejo, with the friendliest and most accepting voice yet.

"Thanks," I obliged, then slumped down while shifting myself into a niche behind the wall separating the doorway from the sleeping area and got as comfortable as I could.

I was tired as the evening turned to night and this strange caravan rolled over the snow-dusted Arizona mountains east on 66 towards New Mexico.

The five young travelers appeared to be in their late teens and early twenties. Behind their worn-down appearance they seemed to be nice farm kids from Iowa, off on their last great adventure before the traditional Midwest culture of farming, education and family claimed them back.

The guru guy, Etroid, well, he didn't fit the Midwest bill. From what I could gather from several hours of driving, he was not from anywhere I knew. He had convinced these Iowa farm kids to take him to Florida to visit with his followers, whatever that meant.

I don't know why I found myself being oddly drawn into an investigator's role, actually considering staying on with this strange caravan of travelers. It might have been my natural curiosity or the fascination with the uncanny stage of characters.

And of course, it was obvious there was a thickening plot, now enticing me into its unknown realm—the needed fuel behind any good story. Sure, I reasoned with myself, it also could be the cold black night that lay just outside and I didn't want to be out there freezing off my family tree trying to bum a ride through this storm. And maybe, this was just the diversion of a weary heart I needed.

The hook of intrigue snared me into wanting to know more about the so-called commander Etroid; thus I began formulating an outline to a potential story.

### CHAPTER THREE – IN OTHER PLACES THE HUNT IS ON

Up on the third floor of the FBI building in West Los Angeles the phone in the commander's office rang. "Yes, this is Agent Oscar Kennedy," the chief FBI of the Southwest regional district answered his phone rather abruptly.

"Chief, this is Agent Merkel, overseer of the Beach Watch, some good news here, a few of our Beach Watch boys might have got a lead on someone the Bureau is interested in down at the Santa Monica Beach."

"Really now, that sounds interesting, tell me more," answered the West Coast's chief bureau agent Oscar Kennedy, known throughout the FBI bureau as Mr. OK.

"You know that for the last week or so, they have been on a search assignment, looking for bank robbery suspects. You know there are enough of them hanging out in the crowds in that area. They had been following this 'wanted for bank robbery couple' when agent Henderson spotted someone he thought he might have recognized from our wanted files."

"Whom might that have been?"

"He thought it might have been the Etroid character, I think his full name is Edwin Theodore Roidson, the Catalina space nut killer gone missing...!"

Kennedy came up in his chair, "Etroid you say? Is he sure? And what did they do, did they get a positive ID?"

"So far no positive ID and that might be difficult for now. The team split up keeping an eye out on both their suspects and Henderson followed this Etroid into town and watched him, where he joined up with another guy and they broke into a converted bus."

"Tell me more. Why did he think it was Etroid?"

"He had watched several of those surveillance videos, so opened his tablet and did the wanted files. He pretty well got a positive hit or at least enough to excite him. He says it was this Etroid's mannerisms that caught his attention. The guy is definitely in disguise; he has gone hippy, long hair, grubby and baggy clothes and sandals, the works. But he was sure it was the same guy when he saw those huge silver dollar eyes."

"So he wasn't really sure."

"Not exactly, but he did get a few photos and sent them in. They should be ready to upload right now if you want to take a look."

"Ok, I'll bring them up and take a look, but then what happened?"

Commander Kennedy immediately began clicking on his screen going to the latest Beach Watch files that had been sent in by Henderson.

Merkel went on, "Henderson was going to move in and check this guy out a little closer, but then a gang of younger guys came up and found that their bus had been broken into. From what Henderson said, he heard this Etroid telling these young guys that he caught someone breaking into their bus and ran him off and was just about ready to call the cops. Looks like the owners of the bus fell for it and apparently Etroid had set this break-in up with this other guy who split. After some discussion this Etroid then made friends with them, and soon got aboard and left with them."

"Who were these other guys? Were they possibly his new crew?"

"No, it didn't appear so, a couple of them were really pissed about some of their things being taken."

"Did he get the license and any other identifying hits of information?"

"Well, the back plate was covered by some kind of bundle tied on the back end, and he tried getting a look at the front but did not want to be too obvious. But he did get plenty of shots of the bus and passengers itself. Because he was on foot he could not barge in or follow them but he over heard this Etroid telling these guys about some flying saucer convention out in Joshua Tree area and that it was really going to be a cool happening."

"How many younger guys were there?"

"I think he said at least five of them, just looked like wasted surfers, hanging out for the day. They should be on those photos he sent."

"Great job Merkel, if this is Etroid, we have just located one of the main culprits in the Santa Catalina cult murder case. The whole country is looking for this guy and we just happened to stumble on him, right under our noses at the beach. Tell Henderson this was great work...but get the license next time."

"Sir, we have a team on this right now. Checking out the photos and who might be these guys with Etroid."

"Great, let's put out a full APB alert on this bus. Maybe get a couple of agents out to this Joshua tree convention thing. But observations only, we need a lot more on this guy and what he might be up to. We do not want to scare him away."

"Will do OK, already contacted the Highway Patrol to keep an eye out for the green bus headed south."

"Do we have any other agents in the area or along Route 66 in case they are headed out of State?" asked Merkel.

"I'm checking that right now, I'll stay in contact, but let me know anything else you might find out, this has got to be a red alert!"

Kennedy knew he had to play this one carefully. For this Etroid character was involved in one of the country's most serious and prestigious environmental movements. The serious aspect to this situation was that many of the top governmental leaders were also attached to this same movement. To tear it apart could mean a disaster for his agency and especially for his own position.

"Damn politics again, it's forever brutalizing justice!"

### CHAPTER FOUR – OTHER FORCES AT WORK

Ding-Dong-Willy-Wam...Bib's satellite phone continued to buzz and ring. The young woman named Brady Ivory Brewer set down her coffee on the formica top and digging in her shoulder bag she caught the caller ID of the Agency. Coming to full alert she answered, "Brewer here."

"Is this Agent 8244?" the voice asked.

She saw that it was her department commander Oscar Kennedy calling, and quickly arose and stepped out of the coffee shop on the Phoenix desert highway. "Brady Ivy Brewer, 8244 speaking," the young FBI agent fulfilled the proper procedure of identification for her commander.

"This is Commander Oscar Kennedy."

"Yes Sir, this is Agent Brewer."

"Hello Brewer, hope all is going well with you. I understand that you were recently on a case in Phoenix and just about to return to Quantico, is that right?"

"All is going well. Just buttoned up the Phoenix Bank case, and yes, am scheduled to fly back tomorrow."

Brady Ivory Brewer (also known as Bib) began wondering why the commander of the West Coast Communications Unit from Los Angeles would be calling her personally. She had only spoken with him on occasion and sat in on meetings, but here he was, Mister OK himself, actually calling her. This must be something major.

"Well, Brewer, we have another assignment for you and if things go right, it will bring you back to the East Coast. You might even get some free sight-seeing in along the way."

"Sounds good. Yes Sir, sounds interesting. What does this entail?" She and he both knew that if any sight-seeing was done, it would be in the line of duty.

"As you know, we have a Most Wanted List. We have received some information on one of our most wanted suspects and his possible location. We have a report of strange activity concerning a green bus which might be carrying this fugitive. The bus has come out of California and we got a report that it has gone through Phoenix and is headed up to Flagstaff going east on Route 66. We first must locate it, then follow it, and then get acquainted with its occupants. It is owned by some Midwest kids heading home from California. It seems they have been waylaid by this fugitive, Edwin Theodore Roidson, who also goes by the alias Etroid."

Brady paced back and forth, looking around to see if anyone was listening as she asked, "Yes, what do you want me to do?"

"The Bureau wants you to locate the bus, tag it, follow it and keep tabs on who is in the bus, what they might be doing. Try to get acquainted with our suspect or at least one of the passengers. And we want to know where they are headed."

"Am I going to work this case on my own?"

"For now, yes. Just locate the bus, follow it and report in on its activities. We are thinking it is headed east on 66 and you'll be headed that same way, so it shouldn't be too much out of your way to follow it. There will be several agents informed of your movements and if you need help, they will show up, but keep your distance. Once you learn where they are headed, we'll have another backup agent following them and in front. You won't be alone."

"Will I get the background data on the bus boys and the fugitive?"

"Yes, we will be sending all the data we have on the so-called Etroid, the main suspect, to you on the new on-board computer systems; but we don't have much on the younger guys with him." Her supervisor paused here, cleared his throat and went on, "This Etroid character, if he is the one we are hunting, is a mass murderer. He is very cunning and extremely intelligent, that is why you are to just keep tabs on him. We'll have the big guys sent in once we know who he is...do you understand this Brewer?"

Bib was a little insulted at her boss's inference that she might not be able to deal with this guy's intelligence, but she answered, "Sure thing Commander Kennedy, will use all precaution in my observations." Yet she was wondering about this on-board computer thing.

"Okay. Good, and are you still armed?"

"Yes, I have my lady Colt 38 with me."

"That's good, be careful. I know you have been well trained. And that you hold black belts in karate, kudo, kung fu, juku, judo, and a few other marshal arts that I cannot even pronounce."

As OK mused through his litany of her stunning qualifications, Bib was pondering about this new communication thing on wheels and thought to ask, "Sounds good Commander. Where am I supposed to acquire this vehicle you speak of, or should I search it out at the Phoenix station?"

"Oh no, this is the best part for you—we got a new surveillance van recently built out there, fully equipped, something right up your alley. It is ready to roll. It has the latest top tech stuff and just waiting for you at the agency yard there in Phoenix."

"Wow. That sounds interesting. Fully loaded you say?"

"Yes, this is one of our latest surveillance vans, designed and paid for by the NSA (National Security Agency) and it is fully self contained, with a nice sleeping area. And it's an environmentally sealed lab at the same time, with lots of new wonder-working gadgets. You'll be testing out some of the latest high tech equipment. You'll be familiarized with the new equipment by the personal imaging communication center aboard the van, and it should be fun to learn this stuff."

Bib swallowed, more than amazed that she would run the first tests on such an acquisition for the Agency. "I'll be looking forward to testing it out. Thank you Sir."

"Well Agent Brewer, you're one of our top communication agents and you just happen to be in the right place, so we are handing this million dollar lab on wheels over to you. Make sure it gets back to us in one piece. If it goes well, you might become our instructor on all the new gadgets."

"That really sounds great. I'm excited,"

"You should be, you got the CAU (Crime Apprehension Unit) and the CID (Crime Investigation Unit) beating down my door wanting to get their hands on that new rig!"

With some hesitancy Bib humbly asked, "Are you sure you want me to take this on its maiden voyage, Sir? I'm sure I can handle it but certainly don't want to step on any toes along the way."

Kennedy laughed, "Yes, this is a great opportunity for you and for this new tool in our arsenal." Her commander then paused and added, "I do not know how long this assignment will last. Bring a few changes of clothes and come up with a few disguises. Be ready to change characters if need be. You know the routine."

"If this turns out to be Etroid, will someone join me along the way?"

"More than likely. Depending on where they're headed and how close you get to them. I might send Agent Maxwell, to meet you in Albuquerque. Do you remember him from the Hogan Alley Bank training course?"

Bib sure did remember him; she flashed back on his huge Poncho Villa mustache and wondered why they let him keep it. He was a royal pain, had something against female agents and was forever trying like heck to get her to his apartment. "Yes, I do remember him. Isn't he in the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU)?"

"Yeah, we have him there for now."

"Why would you send a behavioral profiler out to help me?" she carefully inquired.

Kennedy coughed a little, not really liking his agents asking too many questions. "We're hoping that you will have the bus tagged and have some data on where it's bound. Maxwell could help in analyzing this Etroid character...I'll let you know."

A gust of wind blew as Bib adjusted her sun glasses and ran her fingers through her hair. She detected a feeling of more than just concern from her commander. It touched on what she knew to be personal care, but she was not ignorant of the games people could play. Her intuition for some reason went into high alert. For she understood that there had to be other more qualified agents than herself, ready and willing to take this assignment.

Kennedy's voice continued, "Brady, please take all precaution to remain out of sight and do not get involved in any personal idea of apprehension. This is a track and surveillance mission."

"Yes Sir. I'll do my best."

"We know you will, so for now, head for the Phoenix yard and the surveillance van should be ready for you. We want you to familiarize yourself with all the latest equipment. We want you to be able to not only test it but eventually teach the team back here how to use everything."

"Thank you for trusting me Sir, I'll get on this right now." Agent brewer concluded her call with a few more questions and then was dismissed.

Bib, as her friends called her, was amazed. A good family girl from Nevada raised on the outskirts of Reno with her well-to-do parents, with older twin brothers and a set of younger twin sisters. She had graduated from the prestigious ITC Institute with top grades and high recommendations. It was only four years back that she had been recruited and gone through the FBI Quantico training course. Above her expertise in the marshal arts, she was placed in the FBI Communications Division and had advanced a few notches but was still waiting for that break which would move her career along; she thought she was ready.

Bib knew that she had not only been recruited for her superior skills in the computer field but she happened to be a beautiful young lady, well educated and held in esteem by the agency. She was smart, extremely qualified in a full load of the marshal art defenses, quick witted and loved the intrigue of serious investigations.

Her good looks had been a drawback at times, for many felt she might have been using her appearance to influence her advancements. But Bib had grown up in a highly competitive family, thus the fire of ambition to achieve was within her, fueling her to accomplishment and a higher purpose.

In fact, the Bureau had asked her to dress down and keep that Nevada country girl look, that is what they wanted. Simple country looks along with quick wit and communication skills had helped her gain placement in several plum assignments.

Bib felt she was prepared for just about anything, but she had no idea of the events that would soon be arriving to create tough choices and rough decisions to interfere in her well-ordered plans.

Within an hour Bib was out at the FBI storage yard and going through the high tech communication van. The techs were not only showing off, but showing her all its highly sophisticated features and giving her the basics on how to use the various computer and communication systems.

As usual, she had to keep her distance, for these techno nerds were more than enthused geniuses, constantly trying to get a little too close and touchy as they gave her instructions on how things worked. This van was a dream wagon, something one might see in one of those futuristic movies, and she now understood why all the other departments were trying to get their hands on it. Bib soon had it loaded up with supplies and all that she might need along the way. And she was off.

Commander O. Kennedy pressed another button and got Agent Alex Dun in Phoenix on the phone. "Agent Dun, we have a hot political situation happening. We might have a lead on this wacko Etroid character who is tangled up in the green environmental movement. He appears to be in the Phoenix area and headed east. We've got to take him down. However, because there are so many DC politics involved, we've got to keep our distance—if you know what I mean."

"Yes, Sir, know exactly what you are saying. What do you have in mind to keep us out of trouble?" Dun agreed and questioned back.

"For now we do not want our foot print on this case. I put this young agent, Brady Brewer, on the case. She is going to pick up his trail in the new surveillance van. She, for now, is assigned to follow the green bus that this Etroid might be traveling in.

"We think he is passing through Phoenix, possibly headed up to the Flagstaff area, going east on 66. She is a novice at this, but still more than qualified in communications, which might be the key for us. If things don't work out in all this, she can take the fall for the rest of us."

Agent Alex Dun was listening. He already had a good background on how the green environmental organization had many of Congress's and some of the President's department heads backing its ideals. To have the FBI capture this Etroid would assuredly cause a media fire, dragging a lot of government leaders into the fray and bringing about a political upheaval. So using this Brewer agent just might be the way to go.

Kennedy went on laying out a basic plan for Dun to follow. He was to keep in touch with Agent Maxwell who would be shadowing Brewer and reporting back. "It is Etroid we are interested in. If anything happens to Brewer, Maxwell will step in to follow up."

"Why Brewer, Sir?"

"First of all, she is right there on the spot. And for sure, she's a good looker, and if there is anything that this Etroid likes is a good looker. So she might be able to work her way into the green bus gang and come up with some answers."

Alex Dun knew the Agency's games well. He had to play them for many years and was not always happy about the back room arrangements which so often had to be staged. So often, the innocent were caught in the gears of the government's machinery. In this case, Dun so happened to like Bib, knew her family and had great respect for her honesty and her enthusiasm for accomplishment and justice. He would go along with OK but would also keep an eye out for Bib's welfare. So the chase was on. The gears of government began their grind. Where would it end?

### CHAPTER FIVE – THE MISSION

High desert winds blew cold, cleaning the night sky and crystallizing the stars. The slow rumble of the bus moved across the desert landscape and most of the questions had tapered off now. But every so often Etroid would stir from a far out trance. He would lift his hand, snap his fingers and immediately one of his cadets would get him a cigarette, all lit and ready to go.

This service went on and on, this crew was really trained, they waited on this guy hand and foot. I couldn't tell if they were enjoying this service to their master guru or if they were being held in obedience by something more. I was amazed at how they seemed to have completely given themselves over to this commander, who the heck was h? What powers did he have over them?

Indian Joejo took over the wheel an hour before the New Mexico border, and while the others slept I carried on a quiet exchange with him. He was from a little town in southeast Texas called Branch, but the bus crew were specifically headed for Cape Canaveral in Florida to witness the next big triple space station blast off. This is where Etroid's Galactic followers were to meet him. Maybe after this, the bus boys would turn northwest towards home in Iowa, or they would go on with Etroid as part of his Galactics.

Joejo was a part time mechanic and planned on going back to school upon returning home, but it was obvious that he was more enthused about his position in this strange group first. He had hooked up with his summer-time buddies at Big Sur, California, helping them on several occasions, repairing the van in exchange for a ride. He was a great guitar player and seemed to have drawn these guys into a friendship.

I myself took a liking to Joejo's casual and up-front attitude. I learned that they had all become good friends over the miles and through their various ventures of the California dream. They had slowly blown all their monies but had bonded into a traveling unit.

The statement about Etroid having galactic followers hooked me. I probed, in a roundabout way, about the guru Etroid, on where and how he fit into this small town group.

Joejo mentioned that they had met him at Santa Monica beach, California. Through Etroid, they were introduced to some far out people who invited them to attend a flying saucer convention in Joshua Tree Monument park.

Josua Tree was a fascinating area of giant boulders strewn about the high desert in Utah, which lay on their route home. They thought this would be something incredible to write in their diaries.

I was familiar with this Joshua Tree place. My old college buds and I would often go hiking and camping out there. It was definitely a place for flying saucer imaginations, and a perfect place to collect a psycho gang from hell.

Once away from the flying saucer space convention in the high desert, they became captivated by Etroid's far out mission.

"Mission?" I inquired without showing too much interest, "What kind of a mission?"

There was a long pause. At first I thought maybe he did not hear my question. He went through the motions of shifting the gears a few times, as if stalling for time.

Then Joejo lowered his voice a little, let his dark eyes glance in the rear view mirror, pulled down the bill on his cap, shifted into a lower gear and gestured with his broad shoulders, "Sure. Etroid is a galactic general from another dimension and is training others here on earth to be a part of a new galactic army, and we are his cadets in training."

Indian Joejo didn't even blink an eye or skip a beat when he stated, as a matter of fact, his absolute acceptance of this absurd idea. Then as if reading my mind, Joejo shifted gears again for the highway's long grade headed up into the night stars, and went on, "I know it sounds really far out man, but you got to have been there and seen all the stuff we saw."

Getting into the roll now, I spoke quietly and responded, "Hey man, it's cool. I've seen a few things myself out there in that high desert."

With that news, Joejo got excited and asked me, "Aw right! Tell me what you've seen out there."

I didn't know exactly what to say, but I knew that ears behind me were now being extended to hear my story.

My answer might give me the edge whereby they might allow me admission into their far out army...oh wow, I thought!

I began, "Me and my buddies used to go out to those conventions every summer and camp out. It was Rattle Snake Canyon I remember, for three or four days, and shoot the breeze with all the big UFO buffs and movie people out there."

Joejo nodded in agreement. "You better believe it, there were some really far out folks out in that desert and I mean far out."

I thought to toss in a little hook of acceptance and mentioned one of my acquaintances, Theo Vontempski, a movie production name. "You remember that documentary called 'Beyond Wings'? Well we got to work on that with Vontempski himself. The area has one of the best astronomical observing areas, perfect for seeing things in the night sky."

I paused for effect and concluded, "But I think you know what I'm saying, right?"

Joejo nodded his agreement. Since I was looking for some effect, I mysteriously explained to Joejo that one of my buddies had disappeared one night after a camp fire strangely exploded and we couldn't find him. But three days later when we got home, he was at the house and didn't know how he had gotten there.

I left the part out about us jokingly burying heavy fireworks in the pit before anyone built the fire, causing the mysterious explosion. And his crawling into the back of someone's truck after about three six-packs and passing out. Then without us knowing it, the truck left that night. Later the drivers found our friend sleeping in the truck. They, whoever they were, went through his wallet, took everything but did have the courtesy to drop him off on the front porch, where his sister dragged him into the house. His strange disappearance is one of those folk tales you now hear about around the campfires.

Joejo adjusted his green chrome button cap, turned to look at me and announced in pure naivety, "Whoa, that is really incredible, man!"

I began to wonder what this cap thing was and curiously asked, "Joe, I see that all of you are wearing the same caps. Any significance in this? What does the X-O stand for?"

These caps were fairly ordinary looking with an emblem of X-O and each of them had a series of about 12 stainless steel or chrome buttons set around the brim of the cap, with a small gold circle at its top, almost representing a solar system with a sun in the middle.

"Oh, Etroid gave them to us and told us that we have to wear them. This is like our cadet ID thing for now. And he says that in time we will trade them for actual communication devices or something like that."

I smiled and nodded, looking outside to the star-filled night, then continued, "So what sort of things did you guys see out there in the Joshua Tree Monument?" I urged Joejo's response.

"Well, like man, it wasn't so much what we saw, other than the billions of stars, but all the aliens we met." Nodding, but remaining silent, I just let Indian Joe go on. I had heard the others call Joejo, just Joe and it seemed alright with him.

"There were some very interesting people out there and after telling their stories you couldn't help but believe them. You should have seen some of their uniforms. One guy even had some parts off his space craft, and you should have seen the pictures of some of those flying saucers. This is where Etroid revealed himself and his mission to us."

"Mission?" I asked casually, for now we were getting into the core of the story, and I decided to dig a little, "So can you share the vision of the mission?"

"It was awesome," Joejo excitedly carried on, "Environs from the planet Habromania, have been assisting humans for thousands of years but are now ready to take the final step of spiritual and intellectual fulfillment." Joejo looked into the side mirror and switched gears for a long grade ahead.

The bus slowed as we moved up the long desert grade and he went on, "They communicate through telepathy and can take the form of humans. They arrive as energies which are being passed down to earth and merge into those willing to accept the galactic take over. You know, like that Bell guy says on the radio, but this is really happening."

"Oh wow, planet Habromania. I think I've heard of it before," I uttered some quiet astonishment and plunged ahead as though I couldn't wait to hear more. "So, are you guys in his galactic army now?"

The long empty road stretched out ahead of us. Before we crossed the New Mexico border I had learned that Etroid was a general from another star system, chosen to be sent to recruit youthful souls into his galactic force. The recruits would be trained in higher intelligence and in techniques of acquiring energy from electrical sources, storing it in their minds. One day a higher controlling force would use their power to either break or make mankind before return home to their fabulous planet.

But the boys were still in the testing stage of acceptance and only Etroid knew when they were ready to become true space cadets.

Joejo went on quietly, "Etroid carries a special telescope that can see far into space. It can send atomic pulses to his headquarters and works as a telecommunicator." Joe went on to tell me that Etroid had a trunk full of mission parts which were in a crate under his bunk. That was the reason he was traveling incognito with us, to deliver them to higher scientific cadets there in Florida.

Joejo carefully shifted gears as the green bus slowed down, and then went on. "Etroid says that there are a lot of people looking for him and want to get their hands on those parts, and so we got to be like, low-key travelers, man."

I added back into the conversation, "Yeah, when we used to go out there, we would meet people who would sell some of the things they got off the saucer crash sites. In fact I bought a small heat reflecting plate from one guy."

"No man, this is different. Etroid has a full trunk of things shipped directly from the generals from his planet in the Trontick Galaxy."

"Really, the Trontick Galaxy—that is a first, you guys must really be honored to have such a job delivering those parts," I obliged in a deeply serious tone.

"Sure man, but you better not say nothing. I'm not supposed to be talking about this," he nervously fingered the chrome buttons on his cap.

"I understand Joejo, got to guard all the secrets, right?"

Joe shot me a quick grin, acknowledging the secrecy of this exchange.

With the stars of the night glittering all around us now, Joejo snapped a glance to me and spoke in low hush tones. "Yep, he won't let any of us even look into his trunk, it's top secret stuff," and he looked behind us to see if anyone might be listening, but everyone seemed to be sleeping now.

Right around this time there began a slight tapping from out of the engine. Joejo grew silent as his ear bent to listen to the strange new noise coming from the motor. He listened intently and finally muttered, "That is strange. We haven't had this noise before, sounds like tappets to me."

"How's the oil pressure?" I asked.

"The gauge doesn't work as far as I know," Joejo replied, worry appearing on his flat brown brow.

"Maybe pull over at the next turn-out. Let's check the oil, just in case," I suggested.

"Ok, that sounds good, got to find a bush anyhow."

The bus's hood was up, Joejo and I checking the oil. Sure enough it was pretty low and we soon added a few quarts. In the meantime everyone had piled out of the van, walking off to do their thing. I watched Etroid, tall and lanky, while his silver dollar eyes stared into the night's sky and he seemed alert to something. I had a feeling it might be more than the stars, but maybe it was to my unwanted helpfulness and possible intrusion into realms unknown.

"Oh well," I was thinking for sure now, "There's a good story shaping up here."

Soon we were back on our way through the black and cold night surrounded by billions of the night's glory. The storm must have cleared the sky and even though it was cold, never had I seen it so sharp and clear.

Jethro had resumed his place at the wheel but soon the knocking grew worse and our speed had to slow in order to keep the knocking down. A strained tension began to fill the inside of the bus. I listened to the exchanges of worry and soon realized that these weary travelers were flat broke, without enough money to get home. If anything happened to the green bus, they were finished. Morning was still a long ways away and I tried to get some sleep but the knocking was so loud now that I thought for sure the engine would blow at any moment.

The anxiety built, until an argument began about whose fault all this was.

"Told you we should have gone the other way instead of this southern route," stated Abel the photographer and apparently, the young, bossy know-it-all.

"Hey, this is the most direct way to Florida and Etroid needs to get there for the blast-off. Remember, that's why we're going this way," replied Jethro back at Abel.

"Ok, Ok, let's drop it and worry about making it home right now instead of fighting," injected Josh, now seemingly the peace maker.

Through all the tension I didn't hear Etroid speak a peep, other than a low murmuring, and I knew he was fully awake. I thought that this was strange, after all, shouldn't your leader or so called guru take the reins? Offer at least some hope or guidance in times of testing?

The knocking grew terrible and we could actually begin to smell the engine overheating. I knew that some kind of a showdown was on its way.

I could see the dilemma very clearly, but because these cadets were depending on Etroid for their salvation and cosmic grooming, who was I to interfere? So I held my peace, trying to decide if I should disappear at the next stop, or maybe wait it out and get involved in this celestial intrigue. I thought to see what might manifest, so waited my time.

It is weird how troubles force the human mind into thinking outside the box. Soon Josh was making slight inquiries of me on what my thoughts were. Just as I began to answer, Etroid snapped his finger demanding another cigarette. Only this time, the lightening response was reduced down to a minute wait before anyone moved.

Then and there I began to feel the powers of the unknown slightly shift and grind gears. I had unknowingly changed the balance of Etroid's full authority over these newborn space cadets and again, I knew this, because I could feel it.

I also saw his huge eyes fixed upon me like a full summer moon, magnetized on me like iron to a strong magnet and they wouldn't let go, all this while his mouth formed words and sent them in my directions. This was somewhat unnerving in the cramped space and I thought it best to break the tension.

"Etroid," I calmly opened the door to the unknown. "Aren't space gurus supposed to be able to repair mechanical things with thought?"

Dead silence reared up like a huge wave ready to break over a tiny island of stranded sojourners. But again I inserted a shift in the tension, "What I mean by this is that your cadets here have been telling me about all the energy you have been storing up to change this old worn out world."

Jethro ground the gears at this moment and the bus seemed to lurch as everyone went dead silent. I pushed on, "Do you think you could be allowed by your leadership to lend some assistance to the possible factions and forces now at play, inside this earthly but simple combustion engine?"

Oh wow, not a good thing to unbalance the coming powers to be. You could hear his mind's gears grind, shift, and the transmission of celestial gates being flung open for new possibilities to come into perspective.

One could feel the space cadets' minds shooting out blazing messages, "Yeah, Your Eldership, what good are your galactic sovereigns if they won't allow you to help your followers? And so what if you got some far out power? This is a simple thing, so why not show us what your force is all about? Now is your chance to gain our trust and submission, don't you think?" But, all this energy was contained in blazes of silence.

The trouble here was that this intelligent Etroid knew exactly what I had just done to his powerbase, and he was pissed. Not just pissed, but his eyes glowed like hot rocket engines, and I saw my life being melted like lead pooling into drops of cold hard death.

Etroid managed to shut down the glow in his eyes and clear his throat from the roar of whatever was stuck there, answering in a deep, low professorial tone, "New Cadets of Hope, by logical deductions, as we are all surely aware, this mechanical device was operating with great efficiency and with positive effect until certain negative energies were mixed into this sphere of harmony."

The cadets' eyes turned on me as the impact of Etroid's words found rich soil to germinate in.

I was certainly impressed at how easily he flipped my question back onto me with a simple insinuation.

Our speed was now reduced to about 25 miles an hour and the knocking grew so bad that I knew the engine was surely ready to blow. Smoke and steam was finding its way into the bus and I suggested we start looking for a place to spend the night, and let this green beast rest.

Soon the distant horizon was aglow with the lights of Albuquerque and as we ascended a long hill, Josh spotted an old abandoned motel. Shortly thereafter we were tucked under a group of cotton willows and hidden by a broken-down wooden structure running out to the highway. It was quiet and we were secluded from the highway.

What we were going to do now was the general question offered up to me by this strange group of galactic recruits. "Let me ponder on this situation. Maybe if we get a few hours of good sleep we'll be able to come up with something," I suggested, since the Galactic General was empty of opinion or word.

"Okay. That sounds fine with us," everyone agreed and soon were arranging themselves onto the bunks. I guess these young cadets somehow figured that this old man Mitchner had earned his place among them and they soon cleared off a corner bunk for me to spread out my sleeping bag. In minutes, I could hear the snoring of most, the cooling down of the engine, with the song of the passing trucks out on the lonely desert road, singing their highway journey.

Reflections of highway lights blazed into the bus, highlighting its interior, exposing a long crate under Etroid's bunk. I assumed that this was the space parts box Joejo had told me about.

It didn't appear too secretive other than a few numbers and what might have been some Chinese markings scratched off or painted over. I lay there thinking and wondering what to do about these naive, half-witted home bound travelers. Should I abandon them to this space general and let them be taken for a ride into sure delusionary fraud, or should I actually attempt to come up with a plan of workable hope for them? I fell asleep pondering this dilemma and how it might become part of my story.

### CHAPTER SIX – THE FIX AND THE PLAN

Morning soon arrived with the smell of coffee being brewed by Etroid himself. The chirping of birds in the cotton willows overhead gave me hope for a better day. It was soon evident this worried crew was anxious to hear what I might have to offer. After a harsh cup of Etroid's really black-hole coffee and a granola bar, I sat back and began to lay my thoughts out for them.

"Okay, here's the proposal," I began. "I'm assuming that you guys are pretty broke," and everyone nodded their heads in agreement. I shot a quick look over at Etroid just to see his reaction. He seemed to be intentionally spaced out without a care as to what I might say, but I knew he was listening. "Well, there are many ways to make a few bucks and get your act together, and I'm gonna share a few of these long-learned things with you. You can accept them and act on them and possibly succeed, or you can do things your way." I looked around and everyone seemed to be willing to listen, all except Etroid.

I went on as young Abel refilled my coffee. "First of all you divide up into teams Each team will have two in it. You never want to work alone, and it's safer this way."

"Whatcha mean safer?" Jethro immediately inquired.

"Just a manner of speech," I answered and took a long sip of coffee, floating with grinds.

"The first team, Josh and Jethro, will go out onto the highway and hitch into the city. The second team, Gunther and Abel, will go right after they get a ride."

Joejo spoke out in protest, "Hey, what about me? I don't want to just stay around here doing nothing."

At this I raised my hand and explained, "No worries. I, along with you, Joejo, will stay behind. And believe me, you'll be plenty busy yourself."

They all shot inquisitive looks at each other, wondering why and for what reason I was keeping Joejo back.

But I held up my hand again and said, "Joejo is more or less the mechanic among you, and we'll begin working on the engine, while you guys will head into the city and do your thing there."

"What do you mean our thing?" Gunther asked bluntly.

"I mean that you are to go into the city blood bank, where each of you will give a pint of your good old red, white, and blue American blood. For this, they will pay you about twenty good American dollars."

A general protest arose, almost bordering on shock. It was obvious that these Midwest farmer kids had never even dreamed about blood, much less selling their own for money to get home. Their summer time party adventure had just collided with a dead end sign while some kind of reality was banging on their front door. I moved quickly to staunch the flow of their apprehension, "Hey, you guys are trying out for this Universal Galactic Force, and you're telling me you can't even give a little blood? What's Etroid gonna think of you?"

They all went quiet, thinking over their commitment to the space army while they knew that Etroid was burning a hole in their backs with his silver-dollar-laser eyes. I noticed a tiny smile tugging at his colorless lips.

Before any further protest could be offered I went on. "Next, you are to head for the Salvation Army and Goodwill and ask to talk to someone in charge of helping people. These organizations are always willing to help in some way, especially to healthy American boys like you. Just get there and ask, and let's see what happens. You might be surprised."

They were pondering these suggestions while I went on with one little bit of advice. "Whatever you do, don't be doing any street begging. This could attract the COPS and you might get the crap beat out of you by other beggars."

"Why would anyone, especially beggars, beat us up?" asked Jethro, the bolder one among them.

"I simply expounded on the fact that street beggars are territorial. Once you step onto their pitch, they will drive you off, for you are cutting into their potential resources."

"I never heard of such a thing," blurted out Able.

"Trust me, it exists all over the world," I answered.

They seemed to agree to these suggestions and after more coffee I added, "Each team is also to go to every church or social organization that you can find and simply ask for help. Tell them that you're trying to go home to your families and get back to school and be good citizens, maybe even running for president one day, and you just need a little assistance. You might be surprised at what might happen."

"Where the hell did you learn all this stuff Michener?" Josh fired out.

"To make a long and weary story into a short one, I had to utilize some of these approaches a time back while on a long solo journey, broke and beat down. I ended up writing a fairly good article about surviving under bad conditions and actually got it published."

"You mean you sold your blood for money?" Able asked with his large curious eyes fixed on me.

"You bet your life, better sell a tiny bit of you, rather than letting all of it die in some far away place."

This only brought up more questions about my experiences but I shook my head saying that I would tell them more later, "Let's get this show on the road."

I had no idea what might come of this, nor if they would fulfill the suggestions, but I encouraged their efforts with the final offer. "Now, as you two teams are out there collecting millions of dollars, Joejo and I will drop the pan off the engine, pull the bearings; then hitch into town. There in town, we'll find an auto store and get everything needed to get things working again," I paused, then gave them my deal.

"I'll pay for everything up front first, and Joejo and I will hitch back and we'll start putting the motor back together. By the time you guys are finished with your chores in the big city, and get back here, we should be pretty well done."

"Oh wow," was the general expression among this newly inspired group. "What do you mean that you're going to pay for everything? Thought you didn't have much money," suspicious Jethro said.

"I don't have a lot of money, but I think I got enough to pay for these items. But I'm expecting to be paid back by your day's hustling and hard work."

"You mean that you actually think that we'll come back with something, enough to pay you back?" inquired Gunther.

"Well sure thing. Let's put it this way, if you go with just a little effort and some faith, you should see results. I have faith in you that you will accomplish this minor task."

"Okay, Idea Man, and if we don't get anything?" said Josh the blond-headed banker.

"Then you got yourself a new running engine and I'm out the money of good faith." I smiled, enthusiastically clapping my hands, then stood up and told Joejo to go get his tools so we could get to work.

Soon everyone but Etroid was hurrying to get themselves ready and out onto the road. The first team adjusted their caps and went out to the highway. It wasn't but a few minutes before they got a ride.

Then Gunther and Abel took their place on the highway, and soon they were gone too. In the meanwhile, Joejo and I began looking over the engine, trying to figure out the possible trouble. After some time had gone by, Etroid unfolded himself out of his cocoon bunk, stepped outside and gracefully opened himself up like a giant butterfly into the morning sunshine. With a slow fluid movement he stretched and took in his surroundings. His moves took on the appearance of a ballet exercise with a feminine grace.

He motioned Joejo to his side, out of my hearing, or so he thought, mumbling, "You know our mission, and you know what's at stake. Watch my stuff. No one is to touch it, and I mean no one. Is that understood?"

Joejo glanced over at me and nodded, saying, "Sure thing General. I'll do so. Count on it!"

Then out through the corner of my eye, I saw Etroid toss a satchel over his shoulder and slink off, disappearing behind the abandoned motel.

I thought I'd go visit the trees, and came out around the back side of the buildings. Peeping down the edge of the building I watched Etroid walking through the desert towards the highway, holding a satellite phone to his ear with its long antennae reaching up into the morning sky. That was strange, I thought, why didn't he want anyone to know he had a satellite phone, and didn't he say he communicated telepathically? Well, that was it for seeing him for most of the day, as he disappeared down the road.

Soon Joejo and I had a plan. "You guys have any tools and maybe a good jack?" I inquired while our heads were under the hood looking into the depths of the engine.

"Sure thing, we got some tools in the back of the bus, but can't remember where they're at. We might have to dig for the jack." With this Joejo went around the back of the bus and tried opening the back door, but it was locked. I said I'd go in and unlock it from inside. He was a little hesitant at this, but shrugged and said, "Just stay away from Etroid's stuff in there."

"No problem," I replied and went around and climbed into the bus and went back to where Etroid's bunk was set up against the back door. I felt around for the latch on the door and after a few minutes of grunting, lifting mattresses, shifting bags and moving a few satchels, I mumbled that the latch was buried under junk and I was trying to loosen it.

Joejo was waiting patiently for the door latch to sound open while he was listening to me digging around all the junk piled up against the back door.

In the mean time I had stepped back and ducked under the bunk to try to reach the lock, when I saw the fiberglass crate under Etroid's bed. It was a long solidly formed box about 18 inches square and four feet long, something that just might actually carry a special telescope, or maybe even flying saucer parts. With a quick tug I realized it was pretty heavy, but moved it forward, asking Joe if the door would open yet.

Lifting up the bed with my shoulder I barely opened the lid of the crate but couldn't see anything other than a neatly packed interior.

When Joejo finally sprang the back door open, enough light shined into the crate that I could see what might be a long tube, which to my surprise appeared to be a finely polished telescope device. Then I had to let the bed down so Joejo could look for the jack. "Oh, I got it," and he saw that I had moved Etroid's crate.

"Oh crap, you better put that box back right where it was. That is Etroid's special parts and telescope box and if he finds out we even touched it, he's gonna go into orbit."

"Ok, don't worry. I just had to move it to get to the latch. It's done," and with this I shoved the box back into place. While pushing it I was able to read the scratched off code numbers, 82144 and several simple Chinese characters.

Now that was funny, this box was supposed to be from Etroid's outer space buddies, maybe they were Chinese flying saucer folks, and I laughed. There were also a few odd shaped symbols stamped on the end of the crate and it had the look of something that could have been from a tech lab, or maybe the military.

The day was getting warm, but several hours later Joejo had the bearings all lined up on the back of an old newspaper and for sure they were beaten thin and worn nearly to death. We took everything we thought we might need to show the auto parts store and packed it into a backpack, then cleaned up the best we could.

Soon we were sitting in the back of a farmer's pickup and were dropped off in the middle of the high desert city of Albuquerque. We soon learned that this particular motor was not the usual. We had to hitchhike all over the city to get the right parts. Finally bought the bearings in one place, the fittings in another and the oil and gaskets all the way across town.

After we purchased everything, we stopped at a little computer café and ordered coffee and a few pastries. While waiting for the order Joejo got on a computer and began checking his email. Stepping outside with my cell phone I called Dustin. Giving him a general outline of my adventure I added in all the details I had collected. I asked him to take a look into this Etroid character for me, and maybe check on this follower thing in Florida, and whatever else might be known about this guy Etroid and his galactic gang. I asked him to do some research on the numbers I had seen on the box too, and said maybe I could call back this evening. He might text message my cell if I didn't answer my phone. I slid my cell into my pack and went back into the shop.

### CHAPTER SEVEN – LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

The Bee Hive Café was a perfect name for this little side street coffee shop, for it buzzed with activity: lots of college and local business type customers coming and going. The combination of computers and coffee seemed to work well together; and this active environment brought back fond memories of my good old college days.

While pondering my involvement with this green bus gang and a possible story, my eyes drifted around, taking in the variety of characters. This was a vital part of my life. I called it people watching and story hunting, because I was forever trying to discern characters, matching them up with their destiny or maybe even their fates. It was just part of being a journalist I guess, but it was interesting, and sometimes opened up some unusual acquaintances.

In the wall booths, young lovers carried on their sweet talk unabashedly doing their touchy exchanges–nothing interesting there. Several business women, maybe local secretaries, weaved their way among the tables carrying their freshly brewed coffee, all the time jabbering with one another about their low life bosses, as they slipped into an empty booth up front near the door. It had to be company gossip about their jobs for them.

Interesting enough, I could swear I heard one of my all time favorite tunes, "Summer Time" softly being strummed by a very nice looking young lady. My ear turned to hone in on the tune above the noise of the café. That was odd I thought, coming all the way to this dusty New Mexico town and unexpectedly hearing one of those tunes that brought back mixed memories and lots of forgotten feelings. For some reason I was expecting some Mexican hot pepper tune but this melodic theme was rather out of place I pondered. My eyes soon fixated on this casual guitar strumming woman. She was just a student or customer, an arty looking gal, free spirited and totally unencumbered by anyone listening to her music. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the background tune but went on talking. I smiled thinking, now there was something to get acquainted with, for sure, I envisioned way more than what was shown.

Behind her, off against the counter stood a well dressed man with a short hair cut and a mustache almost the size of two bananas hanging down to his chin. He stood watching as he sipped his coffee and his eyes seemed to stop on me just a bit too long. I pegged him as some type of shady lawyer or maybe a frustrated bail bondsman looking for one of his clients who skipped town–they had that same look about them. Groups of what seemed to be high-schoolers playing noisy flash games crowded around the banks of computers along the back wall. Several Mexican toughs dressed in their baggy pants and oversized shirts, looked me over and took a table off to my right while others came and went. My eyes went back to the arty gal strumming her guitar. I noticed that she was casually sneaking glances towards me. It was a bit strange; I almost thought she was reading my mind. I thought she might have been someone I wouldn't mind getting to know, and I nodded my approval of her and of the tune she was playing; besides, I was a lover of fine art.

Beyond her being dressed in loose baggy clothes and wearing some way-out sun glasses and a weird artist-type hat, she was a real looker. I became somewhat interested in her appearance, and then she smiled as she caught me checking her out. I pegged her as a teacher in the arts or a struggling musician. I gave her a short hello wave and a nod to come join me. Surprising enough, she slowly arose, put the strap of her guitar over her shoulder and made her way around a few chairs, carrying her coffee over to my table, and casually stood there waiting for me to make the next move. People looked around, wondering what happened to the music.

I tried to get a better look at her, but for some reason she did not want to remove her glasses or give her appearance away. I thought maybe she was out of it, and didn't want me to see her eyes. Or maybe she was in cahoots with these Mexican dope dealers next to me and I was their next pigeon.

She first broke the ice by saying, "Hello there. This might be a bit presumptuous, but I think I know you from somewhere."

Reaching over I pulled out the chair for her and gestured for her to take a seat. She slid into the chair across from me with the ease of a cat getting comfortable.

Sipping my coffee I replied, saying that I had not been to Albuquerque or even to New Mexico before, and asked her if she had ever been out to California. Our conversation began as if we were old friends, casual and engaging. "Sure. I've done a few art shows out there in the Orange County area, southern California, and up near Frisco."

Her eyes were piercing mine; she seemed to be as if drawing my profile onto one of her inner canvases, she was extraordinary. "Oh really, so you're an artist," I broke her stare and asked.

She smiled and nodded, "Well sort of, and I also organize shows for many of my artist friends," she nonchalantly explained, sipping her coffee but still studying me with what seemed to be an intense artist eye.

"I'm from southern California myself, down on the Newport peninsula, sort of a surf bum, and a struggling journalist."

"Ahh, has your picture ever been in the paper?"

"You mean like on a wanted poster?" I clipped.

She laughed, "Wow, sounds like you do have an interesting life. Am I safe sitting here?"

I toasted her with my coffee saying, "You're gonna be just fine, as long as you don't try stealing my wallet."

She had a great smile and used it to reply to my retort, then went on, "No I'm serious; you look familiar in a way. Sure we never met before?"

Enjoying my coffee I was wondering how this total stranger had just drawn me into her presence. Where this meeting might go I didn't know but was somehow hoping it would be more than just a cup of coffee in some desert city. I assured her we had never met as far as I remembered.

I gave out a little information about my photo being in a magazine, "Not so much the newspaper, but my picture has gone into a few magazines with my articles."

"I bet that's where I've seen you: it probably was in one of those surf magazines. So what is your name? If you don't mind me asking. I like meeting famous people."

I had to laugh. "No way am I famous, but my name is Luke Mitchner. And yours?"

"Sandra Cooper." She held out her hand to seal our meeting, and said, "Yes, I sort of remember that name."

The mixed sound throughout the café tended to keep our conversation private. She asked me what I was doing here in Albuquerque.

"Actually I'm hitchhiking east on 66 headed ultimately to the triple moon launch in Florida."

"Oh really, now that sounds rather exciting. Why the thumb trip instead of flying out there? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

Sandra's mind began to calculate, measure distances and surmise this man named Luke Mitchner. Her timing in following him to this café was perfect and she was already arranging her questions, hoping to gain an insight to the green bus occupants.

"I had time, and in my experiences I have found this mode of transportation to be most interesting."

"Got any good rides so far?" she sipped her coffee and inquired. Bib also knew she had lucked out with this Luke character, now knowing for sure he was a passenger in the green bus.

"Yeah, and one of the strangest ones ever, so far."

"Really, how strange. It ain't a car load of naked nuns hunting for their favorite priest is it?" she laughed out her comment.

"I wish, nah, but almost as exciting. I got a long ride in a green bus loaded up with some half baked Iowa farm kids, turned wild girl hunters, part time surfers, now headed east with some wayout space guru."

I saw her eyes grow bright at my answer and she sat up a little, taking great interest in this space guru guy and asked, "I'm interested, what do you mean space guru? I love it!"

Finally, I thought, someone is actually interested in my journey. This woman knows how to make friends or she is just a great con artist; well, she did say she was an artist.

"Not too sure of as yet, but he is a really far out character, either a great actor or some con man trying to get these Midwest farm kids to join his galactic army. And they are falling for it."

This Cooper lady was really interested now, and with a great smile asked me, "Have you joined up yet?"

She hesitated and asked, "And maybe they'd let me take some photos, you think?"

"No, don't think so. This guru guy is really stern with his cadets. He is a bit upset that I got aboard back in Flagstaff and wants me gone. But I'm considering hanging in there, for the sake of a good story."

Just as things were getting interesting and I was wanting to get better acquainted, her cell phone went off and she had to excuse herself. She gave me a sincere look of apology and joggled her fingers towards me as if saying she would be back in a few minutes. Without a doubt, as she walked away, it was easy to tell that there was a real woman hiding inside her artist garb.

Out of the blue, it finally dawned on me as hidden feelings began to rise up out of my cluttered soul. Without a doubt I was in need of female companionship. These five cadets and this Etroid character were already on my nerves and besides that, in the back of my mind, I would like to meet a really good woman. It had been a while since my life had been entangled with a close female companion and my heart was still wounded from my grandparents deaths and for some reason, I knew that a good woman might help me to heal. It was not a lust thing, but more of a means to relate to someone about my feelings that were still tumbling around inside me, like sharp pieces of jagged glass incise a light bulb.

Maybe, just maybe a female companion would be the right thing for me–and hey, nothing wrong with a good artist, I thought, and a rather nice guitar player to-boot!

I had meant many nice ladies along the way but none that I might want as close companions that I could confide in. So here this very interesting female character came up and without any great finagling, she had given me what I thought to be an honest smile and was offering friendly words to my weary heart. Without a doubt, I did have a good feeling towards her. That feeling that arose from me had to be a branch off my tree of loneliness.

Then Joejo came back, "Wow, who was that sweet thing?"

"Ah, just some artist thinking she knew me from somewhere."

"Alright! Hope she wants to get better acquainted, maybe she needs a ride. We got some extra space in the bus, why don't you ask her?"

I was a little bothered that Joejo had returned before I had the chance to at least get her number.

Then sadly, I watched her stroll out the door. She did turn back to me and gave me a tiny goodbye wave with her phone in hand, and wow, what a stroll! I had a feeling that this Sandra Cooper and I were going to run into each other down the line. I finally got my eyes off her as she disappeared around the door.

"Hello, Bib, this is Oscar Kennedy, hope I didn't break anything up or did I?"

"Oscar, I think we got a line on that Etroid character. According to this traveling journalist, Luke Mitchner, I just met here in Albuquerque in the Bee Hive Coffee shop, he is the one that the green bus picked up in Flagstaff in the snow storm. He filled me in on who is in the bus and where they are going."

"Incredible. Good work, so fill me in."

"He says there are several younger guys, some Iowa farm boys taking this Etroid to Florida to the International Moon Launch in Florida. He is trying to recruit these guys into his galactic army...and this Mitchner is hot to get the story."

"Hope this Mitchner doesn't screw things up. For that sounds like our man, forever gathering the innocent around him, making these odd ball promises of an outer space galactic force. Of course, one that seeks to save the world."

"I will stay on their trail now that I got a good lead on them. I'm going to try and tag their bus with a transmitter so we can all keep an eye on it."

"That sounds good, but be careful. Also, did you run into Maxwell yet?"

Bib answered with some irritation in her voice, "Sure, in fact he is hanging around me right now and in my opinion just a little too close. He is a dead ringer for a Fed, but the only thing that saves him is that giant Poncho Villa mustache he wears."

Mr. OK laughed and said that he will tell Maxwell to back down and away, so your cover is not blown.

"Sounds good, I'll report as soon as I find out more."

Just then Maxwell came up to Bib, almost breathing down her neck, and she was forced to walk away so Mitchner would not see them together. She was a bit disturbed at his constant presence. He knew better and was supposed to be keeping his distance, not be right on her back.

Luke saw Joejo blocking his view of Cooper walking away and asked," Did you get in contact with whomever?" with some noticeable irritation in his voice.

"Yeah, just caught up on my emails and sent a few notes home, things are still dull and boring there."

I was stalling for the possibility of this lovely Sandra artist woman to return, so I offered to buy one more coffee as Joejo and I talked about life in general. I learned that he was taking some college courses in mechanics and wanted to be a school teacher. We took a few more minutes to check our emails and then finished up our coffee, laughed at a few good jokes, but no more Sandra Cooper.

Joejo was now checking out a couple of nice looking local girls so I thought to step outside and see if my lady friend was still out there. I told Joejo to take his time and I'd be back. He laughed and said, "Man, you don't waste time do you?"

I nodded at the two young ladies he was getting acquainted with and said, "Me moving fast, wow Joejo, I'm a turtle compared to you the rabbit man!"

Stepping out into the bright sun I did not see Sandra around but something else caught my attention. I saw the Guru Etroid himself, walking down the other side of the street. He seemed to be strolling alongside a woman, both involved in conversation. I thought this to be interesting–did he know anyone out here or was this just a pick up stroll? I thought I might follow them to see where they might be headed, so waited for traffic to clear, then crossed the street and kept my distance.

Following someone was nothing new to me. Being an investigative journalist, there were times when I had to play the detective and agent provocateur role. I can't say I was an expert at it but I had my share of following people. Without a second thought I fell into a slow sleuth walk, meaning casual and unsuspecting. My many behind the scenes investigation and several crash courses by some most unsavory characters had well prepared me for shadowed dancing or following and observing my prey. Flashing back to a hunt for a rare antiques thief in Santa Barbra, I had my first real experience in following and making the right call in retrieving a horde of long lost statues.

I sat for two days watching a real-estate office off the main drag, waiting for Libby the suspect to show up. Finally she showed, and from there I approached the office when she was alone to set up an appointment to check out a townhouse on north beach. She was a good looker and most friendly and somehow I took a liking to her.

She was a tough cookie, with lots of hard knocks in her history and was skilled in her ability to deal with life and its woes. Got her license plate number first, and with my laptop checked to see if she had a real-estate license or any kind of a record. After another half day, I knew her hang outs, who her circle of friends were and ended up tracing down her phone numbers and bank accounts. It was rather interesting being able to apply my newly learned skills and reporting everything back to Dustin. From there he had others make the move on her and made the arrest. But it was me who first found my way into her beach house and after a long search I came up with the hidden treasure.

The best part of that investigation was that I had removed the purloined antiques out of her beach house before the police could search it. She was rather shocked to find them missing but was really made happy when I contacted her and let her know that I had them and was returning them to their rightful owners. At first she became somewhat belligerent, but then realized that I had saved her butt from going to jail because there was no evidence.

Dustin was somewhat perturbed at me but I didn't see any need for sweet Libby to go to jail over such a thing. She had hidden these antiques for someone headed for prison and was supposed to sell them for monies to fund his further appeals. But the guy had been killed in prison and she was now the owner and holder of this most exquisite collection of Mayan statues. From there, we became good friends and she owed me; the best way to have a good looking girl as a friend.

She has on several occasions asked me to do some further investigations for her. With a little encouragement from me, she soon became a Pacific beach private eye; and she has become rather good at it. In fact Dustin has used her on several of his central California cases.

Etroid and his lady friend were now about a half block in front of me, just strolling along. They turned the corner and as I reached the corner I saw them enter into a park plaza area and disappear. I did not want to move too fast and have them see me so I crossed the street, moved along in the shadows and thought I had lost them, but finally saw them sitting together on a park bench in the shade of a large oak.

I could see that they were not just casual friends but apparently well acquainted. The woman was of an oriental descent, rather nice looking and well dressed. Etroid took out his satellite phone and punched in a number and handed the phone over to the woman. She was listening to someone or to something and was looking around at the same time. Just out of curiosity, I took out my phone and very carefully shot a picture of them together. Just in time, her look passed me over as I turned away.

After a few minutes of listening to something on his phone she handed it back and stood up. She took a small package out of her shoulder bag and handed it over to Etroid. I could not see what it was, but he slipped it into his jacket pocket and patted it smooth. They stood on the edge of the street until he got the attention of a cab and they climbed in and off they went. There was no way I could follow them from that point, so just headed back to the coffee shop to collect Joejo.

As I was turning into the Bee Hive Café I thought I saw my lady friend Sandra walking across the street looking my way. I stopped and thought to cross the street and maybe carry on our conversation and get better acquainted. She saw me looking her way and responded with a casual wave and then turned and walked away with what I thought to be the bail bondsman man with the banana mustache but I could not tell from where I stood. So much for getting better acquainted I thought.

We were coffeed out and it was time to go, so we got on our way, hitching back out of town. The high desert skies were blue with a turquoise blend while the warmth of the day almost put me to sleep, but there was work to be done.

### CHAPTER EIGHT – SUCCESS AND GAIN

The day's light was dimming by the time we arrived back at the bus. We buttoned up the engine; figuring that we could finish the rest tomorrow. While cleaning up, we heard a car stop out front. Doors slammed and we heard excited laughter and thumping steps coming. Josh and Jethro appeared, running out of the shadows in the dimming light of late afternoon. No faking it–they were hyped, bursting with words pouring out like water in a cheap broken pipe after a winters thaw.

"Aah Man! Mitchner, you won't believe what happened to us." Josh released his conservative manners, yelling as soon as he saw us.

Not to be outdone, Jethro ran passed us saying, "You've got to see this. Come on in the bus and I'll show you."

Joejo's thick brows rose like double rainbows over his dark eyes, sending me a bright and hopeful look of something good to come. We followed the first arrivals into the bus. Josh had undone his shoulder bag and was pulling various items from its depths. "Look. Here's four cans of soup, two jars of peanut butter with two huge loaves of bread from a way-out bakery," and was digging around when Jethro shoved these items aside and took over, "That's nothing, look at this." He proudly laid an envelope down on the table.

"What's that?" Joejo reached for the envelope.

Jethro slapped his hand away, "Hey, hey, wait a minute. I want to show you this."

"Ok. Ok." Joejo jerked back his hand with obvious exaggeration, pretended great hurt and stood back waiting for the big news.

Josh then took the stage and began a long and drawn out explanation of their day's wild adventure in the big city of Albuquerque, New Mexico.

He finally got to his point, ending with, "And after sacrificing our precious farm-boy's blood and getting sixty bucks, we went to the Salvation Army, where we got a gasoline certificate for one hundred and fifty bucks of gas for our trip home."

"Outrageous man! That is incredible," declared Joejo patting Josh on the back with great enthusiasm.

I casually inquired, "What do you mean $60 for blood? There's only two of you, did they drain Jethro or what?"

"Nope, nothing like that. But yeah man, I got some special type of B-17 blood and they gave me forty bucks for it." Jethro pounded his chest, showing off that he was something special.

Special, I thought. Sure, really special, just like those other 20 million surf-rocking teens gone bonkers! I had to chuckle, at his B-17 bomber reference, knowing he had got it wrong. He rambled on in full glory, with his bleached-out hair that looked like a desert tumble-weed that had been rolling across hot sand for the last few weeks in a major dust storm. His tall, skinny build reminded me of a burnt hot dog on a stick that someone had capped with a mop. Aw-yeah, real special, I smiled!

After several more excited disclosures, and further declarations of a fruitful day of seeking, Josh finally asked what was happening with us. Joejo gave an account of our day's labor and a brief update on our progress with the engine. I was surprised by the amount of money these guys had collected. Sixty dollars for giving blood donations, forty bucks from two different social help groups, a few good meals, and a one hundred and fifty dollar gas certificate that could be used along their route home to Iowa, by way of Florida.

Just as the sun's long shadows were striping the desert landscape, and peanut butter sandwiches were being made in celebration, we heard a truck stop out front and soon depart. Abel and Gunther came running up, piling into the bus with more enthusiasm than the first team.

Everyone was laughing and pushing each other in jest, until I finally asked them, "Well you super cadets, what did you come up with this day?"

Gunther sat down on one of the trunks and began piling boxes of crackers, packages of cookies and a variety of cans and bags onto the table. He sat back looking at all this recently acquired booty and waited for us to say something.

"That's a lot of stuff, but didn't you go to the blood bank?" Joejo inquired with some apprehension that they might not have given blood, while he glanced over at the first team.

"Oh yeah it's cool, take a look," Gunther stepped into the lantern light and lifted up his sleeve revealing a red welt on his upper arm. "The dumb nurse didn't know what she was doing when she jabbed that needle into my arm..."

His explanation was cut short when Abel interrupted with a self-satisfying grunt, "O Boasting Boy of Royal Lieship, sure, you were nothing but a stinking crying moose the whole time. In fact if it wasn't for me telling you to get with it, you would have fainted again."

"Able, you're all foam and no wave. All I can say is bull crappy. And you know that nurse had to be that one from that old movie, Something flew over the coocoo's nest!" Then Gunther took a calming breath and retorted further, "O convulsion-vill, that old woman had it out for me and was making sure we earned our money."

"So, you did get the blood money?" Joejo cut Gunther off before Abel could retort.

"Yeah, we both got our twenty. Then they suggested that we head over to some ladies help-group for some lunch, where we not only got lunch, but they spent a half hour like our mothers asking questions, but in the end they gave us–let's see." Gunther reached into his pocket and pulled out a bunch of crumpled bills.

"Just like you said Mitchner, We got twenty from them and thirty from the church, and then went to a soup kitchen down town where some old man, I think he was a preacher, gave us a bag of food and another twenty bucks."

"Wow, you guys hit the jack pot," Josh spoke up.

"Yeah, but that ain't the half of it, wait until you see this." Gunther then, real cool like, extracted a bag of what looked like cut herbs, or maybe grass?

With a delighted smile on his face, he boasted, "A half bag of weed," and hung it up in front of us to see.

"Ah man, where the heck did you get that?" asked Joejo, with some deprivation in his voice, while shooting me a questioning look.

"Some guy at the soup kitchen started talking to us, asking us for a ride to California. But we told him that we were headed east on 66." He went on, getting to the best part of what he thought was a great story. "Then after a few good stories about California and a cup of coffee, this guy tells us thanks for all the information, and hands this bag over, wishing us a safe and happy trip home."

"Wow, that is really cool. But hope it's going to be OK with Etroid, you know he wants everything low-key," Joejo nervously touched his hat.

"So how much did we come up with?" Josh interrupted, steering attention back to the day's haul.

"Don't know. Let's count it up," Gunther moved in closer and put his bills onto the table.

After all was said and done, Josh the banker counted everything up, they had collected more than enough to pay for the engine parts, and at least enough gas money and gas coupons to get them to Florida and beyond.

Things turned out better than I had expected. This one day's haul had now established my credentials as someone they could consider as a member of the Galactic Force.

Etroid had entered the bus and he emerged into view, standing there in new green khaki pants and a matching shirt with many pockets, waiting for someone to move aside so he could reach his bunk. Joejo slid back and made way for him to get through. Soon everyone was talking again and Joejo excitedly told them everything that had been done on our part.

I presented the receipts for the parts and other items, and they soon settled up with me, amazed at how their fortunes had been changed in a day, just by picking up this stranger from out of the blizzard.

Meanwhile Etroid lay sprawled out on his bunk, murmuring to himself and staring intently at the ceiling of the bus. I knew that this day's gleaning and harvest of funds, with the birth of a hope to move on, had changed the balance of leadership.

The excitement of the young sojourners temporarily covered the foreboding feelings coming from their Galactic General, but I was not ignorant of the change in atmosphere coming from Etroid, beckoning me into the realm of danger. In my effort to help these wayward farm boys, I had created a burdensome feeling of misgiving for myself.

From my past experiences I shared a few means of attaining help among strangers, but I did not dream that this assistance would put my life in danger, and supply them with a bag of smoky dreams, and who knew what else.

### CHAPTER NINE – SMOKY DANGER AND A CHOICE

Night soon fell, but the excitement of the day's gleaning was high, as the celebration of hope began. I thought it best to step out of this broken-down bus scene, and struck out across the high desert on a long moonlit walk. Checking out the time, I wanted to get hold of Dustin and see what he might have come up with.

Once off on my own, I punched in Dustin's number. After a few really stupid ring tones–Ting-Wing-Ding-Dong–he answered, "Yeah, glad you found time to get back with me. What the heck are you up to? Been trying to get through on your phone."

"I know, but had to save my battery; no place to get it charged and didn't want to answer the phone in front of anyone." The night was freezing cold and my breath puffed out in a frosty fog as I spoke, walking towards some distant lights. "Don't have much time, so tell me if you got anything on this Etroid guy, or this Galactic Force thing."

I heard Dustin shuffling some papers; then he began in his efficient lawyer voice, "I don't know how you are forever getting tangled up in such matters, but in calling all my contacts, did the extended data base searches, and I think you better stay clear of this one."

I squelched up my face with a feeling of anticipation and shook my head, knowing that good old Dustin did not hand out warnings lightly. He went on, "This galactic army thing is real. Meaning that there is a record of its existence and all of its pursuits are not all fun and games. It seems to have been started by a bunch of half intellectual university eco freaks, and half outer space radicals, directly out of the Hollywood and University of California system."

Dustin cleared his throat for emphasis, then proceeded, "They have been convinced in all seriousness that they were, and are being called home to their planet Habromania and are supposed to get there on a passing comet. You know, that same old secret space ride promise stuff."

He waited for me to interrupt but this was too funny to break up, so I let him continue entertaining me.

"If you remember, about a year back there were some headlines, where one twisted branch of the Galactic Force got spaced out on a drug and poison cocktail, on the Island of Catalina. Most of them left their bodies behind, while their souls went chasing the comet that never came."

I interjected, "Are you telling me that they committed suicide? I thought that was just one of those university get-acquainted over-dose parties."

Ignoring another phone ringing in the background, Dustin gave forth more information than I could absorb at the moment, "No one would say anything at the time, but the few who did survive have just come forward, reporting some wild cockeyed story. Their galactic general had chosen a privileged few who were worthy enough to be sent home."

I groaned, "Ah sheet, another alien outer space story!"

"Luke, you sound a little distressed. What the heck you got yourself into now?" Dustin barked out.

"Never mind. Tell me the rest. Is there anything on this Etroid fellow?"

"Yep, this is the best part. This Etroid guy was the so called general, or brain power, who sent the group of Catalina cadets on their way. But he cleverly managed to stay behind on earth, to recruit a few more soldiers."

"Ok. Cut the crap, and what else?" I urged him on.

"No crap. You might listen up here. This galactic leader's real name is Edwin Theodore Roidson, thus Etroid. And get this? he's got two masters degrees, one in philosophy and the second in psychology."

"Hey, not bad. At least this guy has some imagination," I chuckled into the phone.

"He's got more than imagination; he's also got blood on his hands and a lot of real people looking for him. In fact, the FBI is searching high and low for him. He is the leader, or the main travel agent, who sent those 26 eco followers to the comet, but left their bodies behind."

"What do you mean, left their bodies behind?" I chortled out my question.

"Well, to put it directly, his Catalina followers done committed mass suicide. Or were drugged into thinking they were going to receive their reward by jumping onto the passing comet which was supposed to be the Galactic Forces ship. He seems to have a Charlie Manson mind set, mixed with a Captain Kirk ideology."

"Ahh come on, you're kidding me. That space craft travel garbage junk again, and with intelligent people?"

"Yeah, and it's not funny. Several of those bodies that were left behind were kids of well known UC professors, and family members of California politicians."

"Ha, no big deal. Less government workers to suck the system dry forever," I laughed, but Dustin didn't like the joke, since he was trying to retain a few California state clients. I went on sarcastically, "And how does anyone know that they weren't really taken away by the passing comet?"

"Simple. The stinking comet disintegrated into a million bits and crashed into the Indian Ocean and their bodies were left on earth."

"Oh fun stuff, what an explosive reward. Did any of them get their money refunded? Sounds like the space shuttle tragedy a few years back."

Dustin let out a throaty growl in stern disapproval of my comparison and went on. "Old Edwin, just like a good executive, was not aboard for the big blow out, but had conveniently disappeared off the island of doom." A high flying jet passed high in the night's sky as Dustin's research poured forth.

"However, a few weeks later they found him hiding in the Hollywood home of one of his blasted-away cadets. He was taken to the Cameroon State Hospital for evaluation before he could be tried. There he befriended several inmates and convinced his therapist, along with more than a few guards, to join his Galactic Force."

"Ah ha. Bull. No way," I grunted my disbelief that he could recruit trained government officials. But started laughing with the thought that maybe it would be a good idea to recruit all those over-paid politicians and send them to another planet.

"Then, he managed to escape. Just drove out of the place smiling like a free bird, one bright and sunny day. And get this, he left with one of his therapists!"

"What did the therapist have to say about his escape, was it forced?"

"She was a well-known psychiatrist and radio psychic named Doctor Shirley Wrong. They had not yet found her."

"Oh happy days. That doesn't sound promising. And you say she was a real doctor?"

"Yeah, very real. He seems to be quite the man with the ladies. In fact many of those at the Catalina suicide fest were young female students involved in the green thing, and still swear that he is their one and only leader."

While Dustin rambled on, his news triggered the thought of Etroid sitting with the oriental woman. Humm, Shirley Wrong, wonder if she was an oriental?

I pictured Etroid's huge silver dollar eyes hypnotizing anyone who might listen, capturing a few guards' minds, like flies in an unseen web; then calmly clicking his fingers to open the way.

Then I laughed at the puzzling recollection of his control over the Iowa cadets, and I realized this could be. Maybe his grubby and disheveled appearance was nothing but a façade. I went on shaking my head in doubt, that this Etroid could ever be the ring leader. No way!

But then, just thinking about those silver moon eyes assured me that they could easily take hold of someone. Mix in some philosophy, toss in some psychology and that could just about draw anyone into his swirling pool of galactic quick sand, like maybe even me!

"So what else is there on all this?" I asked as I stared back towards the abandoned motel, now silhouetted in the moonlight.

Dustin read through his notes, "This group has a mission statement that declares that their work is to stop all exploration of space by earthlings. Man is not worthy of setting foot anywhere off the earth. Their work on Earth is to prevent the pollution of outer space. They are headquartered in Denver, and get this, they have already become known in several violent protests. And, to have started over a thousand fires, destroyed countless lumber mills, poisoned city water sources, blown up several dams and refineries, two pulp mills, a number of commercial rocket and space laboratories, and have threatened to bomb or destroy anyone or anything who attempts to put anything into space."

"Whoa, that's outrageous. That is going to be a difficult task with all the new countries getting into the space race."

"True, but their group is slowly rooting itself into the World University System, making it known throughout the world's networks. Heck, they even have several high placed politicians and professors in their organization. This Galactic Force idea caught on with some of the enviro radicals and you got a lot of old Gore nuts melting into it. I think they are just now getting into some big Hollywood money."

"Oh goody, some real funny money!"

"But get this, one report links a lot of their financial ties to the Arab Emirates." Dustin paused here for emphasis, "This brings in a whole new set of Alphabet Agencies. And it is not past them to assassinate anyone or anybody. Get it now?"

"Come on, this is looking like some massive conspiracy on a world scale," I surmised.

"I know, I know, it does seem a little far out. But with all the data coming in, I'm beginning to see something more than a little ecology movement here. That's why I'm telling you to get away, get off that stupid green bus, and get your soon-to-be-rich butt back here."

"Ahh-ha, no way. This is getting interesting. One of the best hitchhiking trips I've ever taken. And what a story, ahyee."

"What? You're nuts! You don't need this," I heard Dustin yelling as I pulled the cell away from his ranting in my ear. "Whatever you do, get the hell out of there. You can't afford to play games with anything like this. I don't care what kind of a story you think it is; you're gonna get burned."

"Calm down, old man. This might not be a game, especially since you're telling me that some of this Galactic Force has committed suicide." I added, "You're just worried about losing a possible soon-to-be rich client."

He hated it when I called him an old man, and this usually quieted him down...pondering... The phone was silent, then Dustin laughed and said, "You got it my friend. I expect to take you for everything you got, and then send you to the moon on a one way trip, so stay well and alive. Please!"

The picture became larger and much clearer in my thoughts as my editor and lawyer went on. Etroid was far more than just a hitchhiker headed for Florida. Then suddenly, the upcoming, International Moon Settlement Launch (IMSL) came into mind. Oh my, what the hell have I got myself into? I thought...how big is this story?...and all this in a little green bus?

There in the New Mexico high desert, outside of Albuquerque, I gave Dustin some details, telling him to keep me informed and follow the GPS signal in my phone.

He suggested that I pick up any of the new three-hour throw-away phones for backup, and with this, we said our goodbyes.

The earlier storms had washed the sky clean. The crisp cold night seemed to magnify the heavens, bringing them right down near unto one's reach. I stood there gazing up, considering all that Dustin had told me. I also wondered how I was forever getting into such odd ball situations. I could have got a ride with anyone, but no, it had to be with this bus load of space nuts. Not only a bunch of happy to be deceived farm cadets but a possible schizoid murdering escapee from a mental institution!

A falling star flashed into the eastern horizon and brought me back to decision time.

### CHAPTER TEN – HIGH TIME AND THE WIN-OVER

My body was demanding that I find a toilet soon. I had to use a restroom so I made my way to the only café truck stop on the highway, causing a good number of cowboy late all-nighters some interest when I came walking out of the last light, merging out of the deserts darkness. I was sure that they were looking for my horse or maybe even my flying saucer!

After using the restrooms, I thought to take Dustin's suggestion. I hunted around and located the gadget shelf, picking out two recyclable track phones, a few extra batteries and a nice sized pocket knife and headed to the register area. The entire restaurant was silent; everyone was watching me like hawks.

Had they never seen some grubby stranger appear out of the shadows of the desert in the middle of the night and start buying gadgets and phones? Maybe they thought I was going to rob the joint, and were poised to pull their side arms and have a good Bonnie and Clyde shoot out!

While waiting there for a moment, I noticed the cashier's name tag, Francy, and generously smiled at the young clerk, giving her my best look of an honest face, saying, "Good evening Francy," and began my inquiry about the weather and the road conditions ahead when an idea popped into my mind.

No need to return empty handed, figured I'd better get something special for the galactic army back at the bus; after all, we had a pretty successful day. Scanning down the counters, I saw the perfect gift, a huge, delicious homemade pie, decorated like a flying saucer. Wow, what a find, I thought, and with some excitement I politely asked Francy if she would slice it into eight pieces.

Instantly all the apprehension on her face disappeared. She sliced the pie and asked, "Birthday party out there somewhere?"

I had to laugh; it was still quiet, everyone was waiting for my answer, "Sure thing, for friends back at camp, and thank you."

I handed over my credit card and walked out into the night carrying the big flying saucer fruit pie. I looked back and saw half of the café's patrons glued to the window to watch me walk off into the desert, wondering 'What the heck was that?'

Arriving back at the abandoned motel, I approached the bus, still parked deep in the shadows of the trees. Things seemed to be a little too quiet–way too quiet.

My senses were alert to something different and soon I found myself caught in the unexpected danger of the night's silence. From out of the trees, I was met by the strange gang of space cadets, it was obvious they were both spaced and dangerously suspicious. From out of the shadows they came forth; I knew they had been waiting for me — but why? I wondered.

There was no light on other than the rising moon flickering through the trees. No changing course now, I was thinking. They closed the circle and surrounded me and I could see that they were serious, armed with various threatening objects. I immediately took in the planned attack, but hopefully thought to disarm their intentions. For I knew that a stoned mind is easily distracted, therefore thought to use this to my advantage. What other choice did I have?

Thus, with a sweeping motion I waved my surprise package in the air.

They all stepped back a little, then stopped still and focused on it. I gently announced, "Hi cadets, I have a surprise for you."

Hey, talk about surprised! For sure, their plans must have been spoiled with my pleasant greeting, and no way could they attack me until they saw what I had.

Jethro was the first to speak up, with a menacing voice of suspicion, "Let's see the surprise you got for us and then we'll show you ours." Several other voices murmured, just enough to be heard, "Yeah man."

No doubt here, I was taking a big chance. Hopefully, Dustin's prediction of my doom would not have any validity to it. I would either make it through the gang's bus trap, or end up buried in the desert under some scrub bush. I answered, "Come let's sit down inside and I'll show you."

With this everyone looked at each other and I knew they were thinking that if this guy wanted to go inside, let's oblige him, for it would be easier to give him his surprise in the bus instead of outside. I stepped right past them, carrying the box, and set it down in the center of the make-shift table. Asking for a candle, I lit it and melted some wax on the top of the carton, and there it stood. The first distraction took place; soon all glazed eyes were fixed on the flickering light of the candle. A mystified silence began ruling the moment and I felt a tinge of success come my way.

"Well, what the heck you waiting for?" I spoke up, breaking the worried stares. No one would move; but then Josh slowly reached over, lifted the candle and opened the lid.

There was a feeling of intense apprehension hanging down like a heavy black velvet curtain. However, it parted reluctantly and gave way to new-found curiosity.

They didn't know if it was going to be a snake or a bomb, and were stupefied as their blurred eyes focused upon Josh's puzzled look. He stared at what appeared to be a flying saucer in a box.

After what seemed to be an eclipse of the sun and the birth of new light, comprehension dawned, "Oh wow, marvelous madness and more. It's a pie!" Josh exclaimed, and then everyone in one voice murmured out their delight. "Pie...it's a pie," Jethro added his exclamation, and instantly shot Etroid a questioning look.

However, this moment of glee did not pass without a serious accusation from the sacred bunk of the space guru. Without skipping a beat, he clearly uttered a quotation which contained one-third warning, one-third threat, with the rest holding a professorial note with futuristic ramifications embedded into its declaration.

With a voice fit for the stage Etroid slowly rolled forth his announcement. "Forever beware of total strangers entering unto you from out of the dark night–baring enticing gifts filled with unknown danger," Etroid sent forth his words as though they were gospel from the mount.

Bam! the door of acceptance suddenly slammed shut again.

At this, every one of the boys jerked away from the pie and from me. I was stumped, but quickly recovered with the idea to fight philosophy and psychology with reality.

Disappointment was now written all over my face, I knew that this was one of those 'tongue on fire' moments.

I looked into each cadet's face, pointed down to the pie and boldly said, "OK, point out any one of those eight slices and I'll eat it right now."

It was young Abel with an enthusiastic response, speaking without permission from his commander, who jabbed his finger onto one slice and declared, "Yeah, freak me to the moon and back twice–tonight. That one!"

The word 'silence' would not fit here, it has to be replaced with astonished anticipation. I shot my friendliest look to each of them, and with all knowing confidence, I casually reached down and lifted out that single piece of juicy apple berry pie.

It was done in a ritual type of extraction, I wanted this moment to work for me, not against me. Every eye was guarding me, watching for what might be considered trickery. I let the juices drip and slowly lifted it to my mouth and took a huge bite. I chewed and slurped with all the fervor of a starving man who just stumbled into a secret pie shop in the middle of the desert. Dramatically crumbs flew everywhere as I emphasized the deliciousness of this homemade pie with additional slurps and uumms.

Even with my exaggerated awes of enticement, I had to admit, this pie was rather good. Then thinking to use some of my own psychology, knowing these were farm boys I asked facetiously, "Too bad we don't have some ice cold milk."

This really threw them for a loop, and while they were all pondering ice cold milk back home, and licking their lips, I casually reached for another piece saying, "Since you think I am some danger in the night, I might as well eat the rest of this incredible creation."

There was another shift in the atmosphere, one step out of reluctance and more towards my favor this time. "And by the way, do you still really think I am a stranger in the night bearing deadly gifts?"

All of the cadets now turned to Etroid, knowing that his accusation had been challenged and was proven false.

Without my knowing it, this very moment, would in time play a vital role in keeping a few of these cadets alive. But it also became the proverbial line drawn in the sand, and I got my very own big fat X pasted onto my life.

Soon everyone was grabbing a piece of pie and raving about how good life was. Glancing over at Etroid, the outer space General, I noticed him exhibiting a grudging smile as he himself reluctantly reached for one of the lonely and tempting pieces of this earthly pie, and the threat of my demise seemed to have passed, for the moment.

Later that evening after the high of the night had passed, while we stood talking out under the stars, the cadets shamefully confessed that they had been given orders to beat me up real good. For Etroid had told them that I had gone to tell the police that they were hiding here and had drugs. I asked, "Now why would he say that?"

"Don't know, maybe he's just paranoid about the police or something," Jethro admitted.

"Well, I'm a writer, not an informant, I like a good story and it seems like you guys got one cooking. There ain't no way I'm gonna screw it up by telling the cops anything. Besides, I might want to become a cadet myself." Just then a shooting star flashed, they all laughed and muttered something about a magical moment and a really good one.

That single box of Mom's homemade pie had saved my life, and these guys were now questioning themselves about Etroid and his control over them. Why would they beat up this man who would bring them pie in the middle of the desert? Why was he such a threat? But the really big question was where the hell did he get a giant fruit pie decorated to look like a flying saucer in the middle of the desert?

Then out of nowhere, Gunther turned to me and asked, "Hey Mitchner, would you like to continue onto Florida with us? And sorry about our not trusting you."

Then Abel added in his unusual phrase, "I think its time to return back to the real world of make believe. Yeah, maybe Etroid will allow you into the Force as a cadet too."

I knew there was a story in all this. If I decided to go to Florida with these space adventurers my chances for a great story was assured, but the question was, did I want to take the chance with this galactic nutcase? Was the story really worth it?

I told them I would let them know in the morning, and I asked, "What would Etroid say about me joining your group?"

"Who knows?" Joejo's eyes scanned the skies and he added, "We're still not officially accepted yet ourselves."

The tide had changed a little into my favor, but Etroid's cunningness would adjust to this set-back along the way.

In no way was I qualified to go up against a man with two PhD's and an appointed space title as General Commander, but this story was just too rich to let it go.

It was sort of a one of a kind Pulitzer Prize story that fell out of the sky. I knew for sure that something was up. My curiosity was on fire now. It was time to get serious, and do some careful digging. But how serious things were, I didn't know.

And even with all my careful considerations, I had no idea of what waited for me down the road!

My past partnership with Dustin, my editor and lawyer and long time friend, had given my journalistic career many opportunities to enter into danger and still come out alive. I had investigated all sorts of unusual situations. I had been shot at, chased, beaten up, threatened and locked up in several jails. By now, I thought I had had enough, but it was the lure of a good story that kept me coming back for more.

What this green bus and its odd ball gang of space cadets had waiting for me, the heavens only knew. But it looked like I was in for the long ride now. I had to laugh while remembering Dustin's warning of my traveling with a possible murderer and some way out space wacko, freshly escaped from the State mental institution! Hey I thought, what's new?

It was late and after searching the heavens for visitors we headed back into the bus. Everyone had their thoughts on that eighth and last piece of pie we left behind, but it was gone. Everyone looked over at Etroid who seemed to be asleep, but his beard gave him away–it was full of crumbs!

### CHAPTER ELEVEN – BACK ON THE ROAD

The morning brought a clear crisp day as Joejo and I were putting the final touches on the engine. After some coaxing and teasing it sputtered to life and Joejo began the fine adjustments; there was a definite miss in the engine that he couldn't figure out. However, an opportunity came with this misfiring engine, and hey, opportunity doesn't always come knocking twice. I thought I might be able to use it to begin to reveal the electrified General Etroid escapee for all he was worth. In my rapidly developing opinion he was worth zilch! I called back to Etroid, who lay low on his bunk, still snapping his fingers for a cigarette every once in a while. He seemed to be especially agitated this morning, in a hurry to get going.

"Hey, General," I emphasized his title with some dignity. Everyone's ear bent to listen while they went about preparing the green bus for its next jaunt. In one way, I wanted to get even with this fraud for trying to have me beat up the night before, so began a little poke. "From what your army has been telling me, you've got some extra-fine powers. Since you're a galactic general and all, do you think you could put the final touches on this misfiring engine?" I paused for effect, for effect was good, at least this is what an old drama teacher had taught me. "Just do your thing with sending some of your power, or maybe one of those guru hums. Yes, a simple humm will do. We've got to get this misfiring engine fixed, or we'll never get on the road. And that means no Florida."

Great gobs of holy gum drops, O man, now this was a definite challenge. Everyone's ears stood up and everything drew quiet as Etroid's eyes burst into red hot coals that flashed scorn and hatred at me. I heard a gasp from one of the cadets; it was obvious no one ever dared challenge the General. But I just played dumb, looked around and just waited, while tapping my fingers on the engine cover.

Silence, like a rumbling volcano just before it blows, was trying to rule this electrified moment. The engine sputtered its protest and nearly died, but Etroid did arise. There was no way he could escape my challenge. He sat up in his place as if concentrating his powers onto the engine.

We all waited. Time itself slowly went on and we could almost hear its giant gears turning. The engine sputtered again, and everyone sat still, listening. Still nothing was heard but a few near-stops and a pop now and then.

Suddenly I had a flashback. A while back, chasing down the hippie and surf movement in Goa, India, I found myself challenging a young celebrated guru. I became interested and then rather irritated, over his bragging about his ability to perform miracles and walk on water. Well, I made my public challenge, and the news quickly spread. Hundreds gathered at the public pool, holding their breath, while in all his glorious robes and beads, he stepped off the pools cement edge and attempted to walk on water. Swish and splash. Oops, he went down, and stayed down a long, long time. Several people dove in and had to save him. He was too embarrassed to surface, but with the help of his reluctant followers, he finally did come up. I hear he is now working for an international Indian computer company answering phones –"Hello, my name is Billie."

Joejo broke the spell and brought me back to reality, "Unless we get to a shop and check this timing out, we ain't gonna make it anywhere."

Everyone's face went slack. A feeling of heavy dread swept through the shadowy interior of this green bus. But I held one last ace up my sleeve and thought it might be time to play it.

This was a real smack to Etroid, because his cadets realized that their General leader from planet Habromania was lacking in power.

He couldn't even fix a little bus engine which was running out of tune. Wow, what a blow to this leader. He just became another low-life hot-air politician in the cadet's eyes. At least this is what seemed to be going on in the claustrophobic atmosphere.

The engine sputtered a few more times and I thought enough lesson had been learned for now. I told the cadets to concentrate their thoughts on the engine. Sticking my head back under the engine cover I began talking to the old worn out machinery; playing my ace. For an extra special effect, I reached down, tapped the valve cover a few times and waited. Without anyone seeing, I pointed my next move out to Joejo, then switched two back plug wires and the engine almost died. But suddenly, low and behold, it began to purr like a contented mother cat who was feeding a batch of newborn kittens.

Everyone's face instantly came alive with excitement, standing there, amazed, and holding onto hope. All ears listened, and within a few minutes, that engine began to correct all its woes. Everyone just stared at it and then looked at me, a tidy bit dumbfounded!

I smiled as I raked in the winnings. For I knew it had been those two switched spark plug wires, because I had switched them the day before, when we were putting everything back together. This was an old trick we use to pull in our surfing days to give excuses to our date's parents for being late. Plus I thought this might somehow work in my favor, and so it had. But I wanted Joejo to witness it and to know that man's hands were involved in this mental therapeutic miracle.

The oil was slowly being burned out of the cylinders and the stupid thing now sounded like a brand new purring Cadillac.

To make anything more of my instant fix was to invite further scorn, so I told Joejo to put the engine cover down, clean up and let's get going.

I tossed in some humor, "Ok, just a little more galactic practice and hey cadets, you might be onto something here. You can start a tune-up shop and do it all by mental power alone. You might call it the Psychical Communication Tune-Up Shop, or how about Psychic Motors & Miracles!" Everyone laughed, except for Etroid.

Without a doubt, these last few episodes had affected the cadets in different ways. Joejo was awed at my abilities, especially the plug wire switch trick. Gunther and Abel began acting as though I was their favorite rich uncle, and Josh was clear in his respect of the mysterious stranger. In their acceptance, I became the "Idea Man Out Of the Blizzard." Sure enough, I thought, this was the pivotal event. We were amazed at how quiet the bus ran now and we pulled out by mid-day, heading east on 66 into Texas and beyond.

Etroid made several inquiries from me about the time, wanting to know where we were.

I began to announce the time every half hour for him. It was obvious he was concerned about a schedule, making sure his cadets didn't play around whenever we stopped for gas or some oddity. During one lull of silence I inquired of them why they were without watches, cell phones or a music system. There were no teens on earth without music and cell phones. I made mention that even in Africa the jungle teens had cell phones and digital players.

Jethro spoke up, "It all started when we got royally ripped off at that Santa Monica Beach."

"Yeah, that was a shitty deal, we were at the beach and when we got back, just about everything we owned was gone," Gunther added angrily with his explanation.

Then Abel chimed in, "They didn't get my cameras or the surfboards; we had them with us, and that is how we met Etroid."

"Oh really, how was that?" I indifferently probed.

"He was walking passed when the creeps were ripping off the bus and he ran them off, but they got away with everything except for my guitar and Gunther's flute." Jethro inserted his recollection of the meeting. I thought it sounded just a bit too convenient for Etroid, with a special bus ride out of town.

No doubt, the evidence of trickery and manipulation was adding up. To declare yourself to be a space general might be one thing, but to set connivances into motion for one's gain, had to be listed high on the list of worse things to come.

I had investigated several great frauds in my past journalistic experiences and this Etroid had all the characteristics of a most unusual con. My curiosity had now gained strength in wanting to know exactly what kind of hustle was actually taking place here. I knew that curiosity could be a great tool, but it also could become a deep pit! I knew this, because I had been there and done that!

### CHAPTER TWELVE – PERSONAL INSIGHTS

We rolled on, over the most desolate, and what had to be the flattest lands on earth. It was in Dallas and Fort Worth Texas where the boys tried to use their first gas credit certificate. We were told that they had to go to the Salvation Army headquarters and have them authorized. Their warehouse was near the railroad yards, and because Josh and Jethro had only put the boys' names on the original invoice, both Etroid and I had to take a walk while the bus was inspected by an officer.

Out of view from Etroid, I had loaned one of the throw away cell phones to the boys, and told them to call home to let their families know where they were. They were most grateful for my generosity; but in the game of psychology, establishing family connections can often become a steel bridge to making better decisions.

Etroid and I found ourselves walking through the railroad yard under bridges and along massive power lines. We were both wearing beards and looked pretty grubby; few words were exchanged. But I being a curious soul, began to ask Etroid questions concerning his life, and his being a commander in the galactic army. He told me that he was once a multi-millionaire and had owned a penthouse in New York. I chuckled at this, for seeing this guy in his shabby clothes and present state, it would take a great leap of imagination to think of him as being rich or living in a penthouse.

"How did you make your millions? Or did your galactic government give it to you?" I probed, as his eyes latched onto the high-power lines running above the tracks.

He shot me a blazing look with those silver dollar eyes, "Certainly not. Of course not. I made every penny myself. My superiors only grant us a higher intelligence; we must apply it or fail."

This was getting good, so I asked, "Etroid, if you don't mind, could you tell me how you used your superior intelligence to make it big?"

His eyes were still following the high voltage lines as we walked down the tracks. This was one of those classic moments, and a bit unnerving, when Etroid, without hesitation began to tell me that he had first made several millions by selling encyclopedias door to door.

I flashed back on all the door to door salesmen that my grandparents had turned away, and knew this guy was full of it.

He saw me wipe the smile off my curling lips as he began to explain his principle of selling. It was a simple matter of introducing knowledge to entire families, especially those with hopes for their children, how knowledge was power, and so on. His strategy was to combine children with knowledge, emphasizing their future success. And before you stepped through the door, they already had their check books out. I tell you, by the time he was done explaining to me the value of owning his encyclopedias, my eyes were also following those high powered lines and I was ready to buy. In fact, if he had had a set with him, I would have bought it then and there–all 32 volumes, plus all the semi-annual volumes!

It was then that I realized that this man was no fool, and could have made millions selling anything door to door. Give the guy a bath, cut his hair, put some clean clothes on him and let him loose–zing-zong, and you got a million dollar salesman.

Displaying a rare smile now, he knew I was, no doubt sold; and I was. Just then we came to a huge electrical transfer station, completely fenced in. Etroid had walked up to the massive chain link fence, and stood there listening to the hum of millions of volts sending out throbbing impulses. I stood back and wondered how the heck he knew that there was a power station like this around here. Maybe he read about it in one of his encyclopedias.

As I stood watching, he slowly spread his arms and took hold of the fence. He raised himself up a few feet and hung suspended as if on a cross.

He just clung there, suspended, staring straight up at the great humming transformer, as if absorbing the electrical power from it. I looked around to see if anyone was watching us, but the junk-filled railroad yards were empty, just nothing but dust, dirt, and hot scrap metal lying around.

For a few moments I became concerned about our being alone. With no one around, I had a premonition that Etroid was considering my demise. But just then a single locomotive came chugging along and the engineer waved to us. I am sure that the acknowledgment by that engineer just might have saved my life. For that reason, I adopted the habit of always waving to strangers, acknowledging their existence. After an hour or so we returned to find the boys waiting for us on the road, and we got on our way, heading further east on several state highways.

That night we were well into Louisiana, when Joejo asked me to go on a walk along a sluggish river, while Abel was cooking up some grub. We walked across the park into some eucalyptus trees. Joejo seemed to be a little nervous and wanted to ask me or tell me something.

I walked around pulling off eucalyptus branches and leaves, making small talk until he was ready to speak.

"Hey Mitchner, there's something strange going on here, but I don't know what it is."

"What do you mean Joe?" I asked in a way that gave him the opportunity to tell me more.

"It's weird. It's like Etroid can read minds or something."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, someone was asking questions about us today."

"You mean about the gas certificates?"

"No. Well yes, but more than that. Some man wanted to know if we had anyone else with us, and if we had picked up or dropped off any hitchhikers."

This caught me off guard and I stopped Joejo, "You mean someone was asking about hitchhikers directly?"

"Yes, and they seemed to know something about our bus, but I played it real cool."

"What did you tell this guy?"

"Well, I think there was actually two of them, pretty well dressed. One of them was a nice looking chick, who sat off as if doing something else on her computer, not letting on that she was with the man asking us questions." Joejo paused here, looking around. He said he wasn't sure, but the woman who was sitting off in the background seemed familiar in some way.

"Was she with this guy, as far as you can tell?"

"Don't know, but it was weird. Remember back in Albuquerque at that café?" he asked me.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"That chick you were talking to there, she might have been the same one, but I'm not sure."

We walked for a while without saying too much, but I wanted to dig a bit more, "Did this guy who was asking you questions, did he show you a badge or anything?"

"Nothing, and we all played dumb. I felt that they might have been looking for Etroid, or maybe even you."

"Me? Did the woman say anything?"

Joejo twisted his cap around, "Na, she didn't say nuttin, but we played dumb with her too. Etroid told us early on that there were forces trying to destroy him and his army, and that it would be dangerous if we told anyone that we were cadets in his army."

At this point Joejo paused and looked back towards the bus, lowered his voice and said, "When we got back from getting gas, Etroid began to ask me questions about who we saw, and if anyone was asking any questions about him. It was like he was there watching!"

This was getting heavy. My brain was spinning. Why would anyone be trying to find me? Or was it Etroid? I knew I didn't have anything to hide: it must be Etroid; I hoped.

Was it just being inquisitive about his cadets, or was it that he knew something? I knew that if there were two well-dressed people looking and inquiring, this usually meant federal, maybe FBI. This little hitchhiking adventure was turning out to be more of a story than I thought. I wondered if Dustin had got a little over-worried about my adventure and contacted someone. I really didn't want my story cut short, if there was to be one.

"So what do you think Mitchner?" Joejo asked, breaking me out of my contemplations.

Looking around to make sure no one might be listening, I spoke quietly, "Well Joejo, I'm only a freelance writer and ain't got much to hide. But it sounds like your commander might be more than he puts on."

Joejo's eyes grew large, "What do you mean more than...what?"

"It could be something he is running from, or maybe he's being chased by opposition, and is using you guys to hide and travel with."

"Wow, that is too much," Joejo let out a sigh. "What should we do, just shut up and go on or what? And how did he know we were talking to someone? Or was that just a wild guess?"

"I can't really say. Did any of the others say anything that you know of, before he talked with you?"

"No, I was the first one back when we all got back."

"Hum, for now, I think we better just lay low and stay casual, that might be best. But it might be a good idea to take a look into that crate of his. That has me wondering."

Joejo snorted, "No way, that's a 'no touch' territory. Etroid has made that clear."

"But why?" I retorted.

"Don't know. But he let it be known from the beginning that no one was to mess with that box."

"Well Joejo, it might be a good idea for someone to get into it and take a look. Then you'll know if you're in trouble or not. And whatever is in that crate might tell us what he has in mind."

"Ah man, but how?"

"Don't know, but if you get the chance, take it. And if I get the chance before you, I'll take it. But be damn well careful, don't want to get old Etroid's electricity flashing at us."

"Do you think we're in any danger?"

Just then the bus's horn honked to call us to dinner. I handed a bundle of eucalyptus switches to Joejo and we headed back as cool as we could. As we walked and swished the mosquitoes away, I asked who might be trusted among the other boys to lend some help if we needed it.

Joejo thought for a second and said that Josh and Jethro, being brothers, were both trustworthy in his mind. But Gunther seemed a little strange, and Abel was too young to know better, about anything. He looked at me curiously, "All I want to do is to get to Florida, then back home to school, and nothing else. I hope I can trust you, maybe to watch over us. I really like these guys and would hate to see them messed around, especially by some crazy nut hiding from the cops."

I was taken aback by his confiding trust and answered, "Joejo, I don't really know what is going on here, but I don't want to see anyone taken advantage of. If I can help you guys get home safe, I'll try."

After fried potatoes and toast, I took a walk to the camp store, wanting to get a new perspective on things.

While strolling around to exercise my brain, a caravan of Greyhound travel buses pulled into the camp store. Apparently they were also headed for Florida to see the great space shuttle blast off. This moon launch event was turning out to be a really big deal. For sure, we weren't the only ones interested in the historical blast off.

I decided it was time to call my partner in assistance, and got on the phone. "Hey Dustin," I called out all friendly, when he answered.

"Yeah, what you want now?" he barked in his grumpy, but humorous tone.

"Ah, just had to move this strange story up on the front burner, wanted to know if you found anything else out on the Etroid guy or his space army."

"Remember now, I already told you to get out of the kitchen, no less be moving some crazy story onto the front burner. But if you don't want to listen, then hold on to your underwear, and if you've already lost those, then hold onto your jock strap. Whoever these guys are, ain't nobody to be messing with."

"Sheet, go on my friend, tell me all."

"Ok, but they got big plans to take over, and won't let a little P-dunk earthling like you get in their way."

"What do you mean any earthling?" I asked.

"Well now, looks like they done got the Security and the Feds pretty well upset about a strange plot, that I, nor they, can figure out. But it's not going to be a honey fest, if you get my drift. A bunch of people are looking for them, and I'd suggest you get as far away as possible. They're a radical group, and no dummies when it comes to doom and plots."

I told Dustin what I knew so far, and to stay near the phone in case I needed him. Maybe alert his Fed friends and let them know that we got some innocent folks traveling along with this Etroid, so no one gets hurt.

"I already have, and will do. Stay in touch, I told you to take all your equipment with you–but oh no, you got to travel all cool, don't you?"

Dustin was referring to my satellite phone, a high powered iPad, and several other gadgets that might have come in handy.

"Hey, didn't know this assignment would turn out to be so hot. But my laptop and other toys would have only complicated things at this point."

"Sure, sure, heard that before, you stupid human," Dustin laughed. He added that I'd better be careful with this going to the big blast-off thing. He suggested I stop and pick up a few self-defense tools, and stay in touch with him, in case more info came through on this Etroid character.

When I explained to him that I had already picked up two extra phones and got a trusty pocket knife, he burst out laughing. Then I gave him the two different cell numbers, hung up and went into the store and bought some ice cream bars.

I heard the old man behind the counter talking to a few customers off the incoming buses. "Sure wished they had more of these moon blast offs, I never did so much business. They say there might be up to a million people showing up to watch the blast off."

"A million people!" a chorus of voices rose up in protest from those customers waiting in line.

Then a woman spoke up with the greatest complaint yet, "There goes our front row seats, Leroy, the ones you promised me...now take me home!"

Aside from pondering over this million people thing, I felt pretty good, now that we were making good time along our way east to Florida. I strolled back to the bus, where the evening's indoctrination session by Etroid had the cadets going on their future powers, and extraordinary ranks. For sure I thought he was going to toss in seventy-seven virgins. But the ice cream bars wouldn't wait; the session ended with some good licks in my favor.

Again, Etroid's patience with me seemed to be coming to its end. Every time he regained his standing, somehow I managed to step in and tip the scales. I was not doing this intentionally, it just seemed to be happening that way.

As we pulled out onto the main Highway I was wondering how I might make a difference in these young, naive travelers' lives. I found myself liking the casual mid-west farm boys. This attachment attitude always seemed to play a role in my adventures, and I must admit, it was not always for my own good. Now that the tide had changed, I wondered what might be on the agenda of challenge.

It wasn't long before I found out!

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN – WOE IS ME

We said goodbye to Route 66 at Amarillo and turned southeast to Dallas, then got onto the Interstate 20 headed to Shreveport on the Mississippi River, continuing southeast towards Tallahassee which would eventually put us onto Interstate 75, and then Interstate 4 which would bring us to the Florida coast.

It was on an overcast morning, somewhere near the grand Mississippi River at the Louisiana border. Everyone seemed to be scattered around the swamp-side rest stop while Joejo and I were checking the oil, when Etroid returned from his morning walk and got into the bus ahead of everyone. I helped the cadets clean the windows and scrape off the bugs from the headlights. It was a half dreary morning and it was time to go. Josh revved the engine a few times; the cadets slowly came and took their places in the bus. I followed inside and sat down on my bunk, as Josh pulled out from under the shadows of the great over-hanging willows.

As we turned east out of the rest stop, headed into Mississippi, I dragged my backpack over to get my note pad out to catch up on my notes. Noticing that the backpack was slightly opened, I didn't think anything of it. I slid open the zipper all the way and had begun to reach into the depths, when I felt something move within the pack. I hesitated for just a second, and this small hesitation saved me a whole lot of pain, as well as some major challenges to life itself.

I have a saying that says, "One little hesitation in the beginning can make all the difference in the end." Oh boy, did it ever!

As I withdrew my hand, an odd twisting began to push out the sides of my pack. Now I had just enough sense about me to shove my hand around the packs opening, and suddenly there was a bulging struggle taking place within the pack. I yelled, "Hey, stop the bus, and make it fast!"

Josh looked around thinking I was going to get sick or throw up, so he began to pull the bus off the road. As the bus came to a jerking stop, I slid off the bunk, and cautiously held my now twisting and bulging pack out, with the opening held closed.

"What's happening man? Is everything ok?" Josh asked as he flung open the bus door.

"No, things ain't ok. Check this out and stay back." With this I stood on the steps of the bus and threw the backpack onto the sandy turnout while we all watched anxiously.

At first nothing happened, but then slowly a large slithering snake's tongue came flickering forth. Then the ugly brown-green head popped out in its fully lifted glory. Slowly it rose out of the pack opening, coiled in readiness to strike, sniffing the air with its tongue flickering.

Its mouth opened, revealing a white cotton look, and then it showed its blackish sharp fangs. We could see golden yellow drops of pure viper poison dripping from off its fangs, it was pissed and ready!

Black bead-like eyes were looking for revenge, while its raised head moved to and fro, swaying, and surely seeking to deliver the poison that dripped from its fangs to its antagonist for unlawful snake abuse. But finding no victim to sink its fangs into, it swayed back and forth just daring something to draw nigh, then it slinked out while all four foot of it flashed into the thick undergrowth and disappeared.

"Praddle my dattle...shockatonnie! Did you see what I just saw?" Able was yelling and pointing, the sound of shock in his voice.

Josh was standing behind Luke looking down at the snake bag. "I can't believe it. How can that be? A water moccasin inside your pack, and not just a little one, but the mother of all mockers!"

Then realization set in as everyone understood that the deadly snake had been in the bus, and they began to freak out. After listening to the frantic rant of disbelief, I saw the idea slowly take form: maybe this stranger and traveling passenger might not be someone they wanted along, mysteriously attracting snakes.

I knew now that the winds of change had blown back the veil of doubt and had exposed to me that there was real danger lurking in this bus. Dustin was right: this was no game. But the tides had changed back to Etroid's favor, for the cadets could not consider that their galactic savior might be responsible for setting up such a deadly encounter. But I knew. Oh boy, did I ever know different.

Jumping down, I cautiously kicked my pack several times before I picked it up and carefully lifted it up to look inside. I was pretty shaken: snakes and me just don't get along. To find a four foot water moccasin inside your pack, right next to you, well, that was something to really rattle my nerves. Now I was peeved. I dumped things out. All seemed to be safe, except that my main cell phone was gone, but I said nothing about this.

I threw things back in, letting everyone see that the pack was safe from unwanted intruders, and hesitantly climbed back into the bus. Talk about a heavy atmosphere, well, it was more than thick; it was like the old standard announcement: "It was a dark and stormy night," and it wasn't even night yet!

I couldn't accuse Etroid openly because I had no proof. I thought I'd soon depart this scene and just forget the damn story. I'd had enough, and it looked like Etroid had got his way–I didn't need this!

I kept quiet, biding my time. We said our goodbyes to Louisiana entering into Mississippi, rather subdued but without any further incidences. Everyone kicked back, pondering but mostly listening to Jethro and Abel play their flute and guitar.

It was somewhere on the outskirts of Jackson when I first got my look into Etroid's box of goodies. I had decided to depart this bus load of freaked-out spaced minds and to move on that morning. But Joejo had mysteriously fallen ill right after breakfast, and I didn't want to leave him on his own. So I claimed to feel ill myself and sat with him in the bus, while everyone else went partying and grubbing around in the famous city of blues.

While Joejo lay crumpled up, mumbling and talking to himself, I got down onto the floor and carefully examined the crate, especially the outside lid area for any hidden snares to its being opened.

I lifted the bunk up instead of sliding out the box from under it. With nervous hands I carefully opened the lid, and saw a number of packages tightly packed round the long tube or telescope instrument. There was no way to lift out the telescope, but it seemed to be a very high powered scope, just the right thing for a galactic general to own.

Lifting out one of these packs, feeling around, I found four long electrical shock weapons. These things were so powerful they were known to knock down an elephant, and could easily kill someone.

There were several bundles of the green chrome-studded caps and a number of packed boxes filled with parts that I could not recognize, along with a good number of what seemed to be small plastic triangle-shaped winged devices.

With my second back-up phone, I clicked away, trying to get a few pictures of this stuff. The light was bad and my battery was low, but I thought it worth a try.

Down below in the center there were four well insulated medical or lab boxes carefully packed.

Upon opening them I saw rows of coated vials, standing upright, two boxes were marked X and two boxes were marked with an O. I slowly lifted one of the smaller metal vials marked X out from one of the back slots and another larger steel vial marked O from the longer lab container where it might not be noticed missing, and put them into my backpack.

Picking up one of the odd triangle shaped devices, about fourteen inches long, turning it over in my hands, I had an idea that this was something the military might be using or possibly interested in; they were too noticeable for me to pocket so I left them be. I carefully replaced everything and made sure it was as near to exactly as I found it, then brought down the bunk and reset everything into its place the best I could.

Just in time, for the gang, along with Etroid, soon returned, everyone was wowing and stinking of booze and cigarettes and whatever else the Pearl River gambling halls had to offer them.

We crossed into Alabama but Joejo was not getting any better, but began hallucinating and vomiting and complained of really bad stomach pains. I asked what he had eaten earlier, but he couldn't remember anything other than some cookies and Etroid's morning coffee.

There was no way we could continue on with Joejo in this condition, but Etroid was insisting that we continue. I disagreed, but he pretty well told me that if I thought it was serious, I could take Joejo to the nearest hospital. They would move on and we could catch up later.

I began to suspect something, but Joejo was getting worse by the minute and I thought it might be a good idea to get him to a care facility. I asked to stop at a park turn out and grabbing my pack I stepped out of the bus and went to the campground office and asked where the nearest hospital was. The elderly lady gave me a map and traced out the way on the map to the Promise Hospital of Vicksburg.

Returning to the bus I found Joejo bending over a bucket, and asked Josh to get Joejo to the hospital, giving him the map. Within a half hour I was walking Joejo into the emergency room at the Promise Hospital.

There was a wait, so I went back out to the bus to collect some things, in case it was going to be awhile. I really didn't want to leave Joejo alone, and asked everyone to kick back for a while until I learned what was the matter.

After the doctors examined Joejo, they suspected that he had ingested poison. He had all the symptoms of having been given some seriously lethal toxins. I left Joejo with the doctors, went outside to tell the crew about what was going on; but before I even got to the parking area, I knew something was wrong.

The bus was gone and it was nowhere to be seen! I went back into the hospital and found Joejo in an alcove being hooked up to an IV. I bent down to ask him if he knew where Etroid was headed in Florida.

With a low weakening voice, broken in episodes of pain he said, "Luke, you been good to me, I don't know if I'm going to make it through this, it's terrible. I am not really sure, but he mentioned something about Jetty Park near the Cape where we would gather to watch the launch."

"Do you remember anything else about where his followers might be?"

In a weakening voice he murmured, "Only that they are working on some citrus ranch near the Indian River north of Cape Canaveral. Something to do with bee farms and staying in some kind of compound."

He began to cough and nearly choked and I was helpless to do anything. He recovered a little and struggled to go on.

"It is supposed to be a really big thing. We were going to meet Etroid's galactic army there."

I was scared for this young man but could not do a thing for him other than to say, "Ok Joe, that's good, don't worry too much for now. I told the doctors to send the bill to my office and I'll leave my contact numbers at the desk. You just get well, and when you're ready to leave I'll help you get back home."

He lightly nodded, showing his gratitude, and whispered for me to please take care of those farm boys. Just as I stepped away, he asked me to take his cadet cap and keep it for him; he did not want to lose it to some orderly. I agreed, shook his hand, pushed his official cadet cap into my back pack, and walked down the hall. Joejo, for sure now, was out of the bus and removed from the galactic trip. I left the hospital and called Dustin to arrange a car for me.

Dustin informed me that someone was on their way to the hospital to pick me up; wait there for someone named Brady Brewer.

I was spun out, not knowing what to do and wondered what the heck was going on now. My suspicion was growing strong over Joejo's sudden illness. Was it because Etroid suspected Joejo was getting a little too friendly with me? Maybe it was meant for me. How did poison get into him and for what reason? If it was given him by Etroid, it had to have been that morning in the coffee. But why Joejo?

How did Dustin know to have someone sent on their way to help me?

No doubt, I was anxious and rather upset at this turn of events. I paced back and forth, once again pondering my own sanity for getting involved in all this. After all, my life was filled to overflowing with my own problems and light was not yet on the horizon for me. But still, I could smell the faint scent of a good story floating in slight whiffs in the air and I thought, just maybe, just maybe?

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LUKE MEETS THE FBI

While I was pacing back and forth, pondering all these events, a heavy-duty traveling van with a large over-cab storage or sleeping unit pulled up. The first thing I noticed was its several short antennae and what seemed to be a rounded satellite dish set into its roof. Without hesitation the tinted window went down and a female voice called out, "Excuse me, are you Luke Mitchner?"

"I think so. Who might be asking?" I cautiously stepped forward and inquired, fully expecting a machine gun barrel to suddenly appear in the window.

"Brady Ivy Brewer, but they call me Bib. And I'm supposed to pick you up. Looks like we're going to take a little drive to Florida, is that right?"

I slowly approached as I checked over this heavy duty van. Very nice, I thought as I asked, "How do you know who I am and who put you up to this, may I ask?" thinking I'd better start asking questions right up front; enough of these strange rides.

"Guess it was your buddy lawyer, Rusty, Dusty or Dustin or some guy named Arrow, who contacted us and filled us in on some of the details of this crazy story of yours; and what the heck kind of a name is Dusty Arrow, some Indian movie star or what?" She paused for a moment, took a second look at me and added, "He also told us what you looked like, and so far you fit the bill."

With some irritation I responded, "His name is Dustin, a real full fledged lawyer and my personal editor...and what is the bill report?"

There was a pause, she smiled, I wasn't sure about that long searching look she had given me, and took my time looking her over, there was much to see. "Huh," I laughed, "What do I look like?"

This rather nice looking woman put her chin in one hand, took a glance at me, squinted one eye, cocked her head to the side and what seemed to be a few minutes of debate she finally answered in a slight sardonic tone, "Well now, they said tall, dark and handsome with a shaggy look to you, and so far you're the only one around here that fits that description."

"Who are us? If I may ask."

"Sure. Guess you better get in and I'll explain as we get going; we got a long ways to go."

Trying to be an investigative journalist, I count myself rather savvy about people and situations. For some reason, I had an odd feeling that I had met this woman before. It was puzzling, but with everything going on, and especially being bothered with Joejo I just put it off for now as a boggled mind.

I took my backpack and tossed it into the cab, looked things over and jumped in and made myself comfortable. This woman named Brewer, opened her ID up to show me an FBI identification and badge. I looked from her badge to her face, saying, "Nice badge, and the rest of you ain't so bad either; do you got a gun?" I said in a humorous tone.

I also added, "Tall dark and handsome, aah?"

Surprisingly enough, she gave me the first warm smile I got since I hit the road, and then snapped her ID case shut. Then she touched a button on a screen built into the dash and wha-la, there appeared my picture.

All I could say was, "Sheeet, all this time I thought you were telling me the truth about the tall, dark and handsome part."

"Listen Mr. Mitchner, I meant the part about tall, dark and handsome."

It was obvious; she was buttering me up for the big roast but what the heck, I thought. "Fine, but if we are going clear to Florida together, you better start calling me Luke and I'll call you, what was it now?...Fib or Rib, I think you said."

"Bib, B-I-B," she spelled it out, "it is Luke, so buckle up and now that we have been formally introduced, let's get going and begin talking about what you know."

I replied while looking into her beautiful eyes, "Wow, this is pretty serious stuff, Brady Ivy Brewer, I guess!"

"Sure thing Luke. It looks that way so far. But please call me Bib. And how long ago did your buddies in the green bus leave you?"

So she already knew about the green bus, so I said, "Probably about an hour ago." I took a glance around this really nice rig, took in all the electronics, noticed a guitar hanging on the back panel and something clicked into place. For things were just going too smooth and something was familiar. "Ok, and I see you're a communications agent, just like your ID reads, and with this, I'm guessing you're the woman that was back at the Salvation Army business headquarters playing computerized secretary, ah, you and your buddy the bail bondsman–right?" With that guitar hanging there, I was assuming that she might have been the artist lady in the Bee Hive and that odd ball bail bondsman type man could have been her partner, but thought I'd leave that alone for now.

"You lost me on the bail bondsman thing," but with a surprised look, on how I might have known that, she had to smile her acknowledgment, "Yep, but he is Maxwell, another assigned Agent to this case," and flashed me what seemed to be an apologetic smile as we began to communicate.

"So, how serious is this environmental space event?" I began my digging.

"Uum, it might be a little more serious than you might want to know." Bib turned her head aside to check out the traffic, so I took a good look at her profile, which in my opinion was going to make this trip far more interesting than I imagined. She punched it, and we pulled out onto the highway heading east on Highway 20.

I was impressed; Dustin must have some good connections to set me up with this fine looking official FBI communications specialist. Looking around at all the devices, buttons and communication screens, I asked, "This your Whiz Rig?"

"Nah, it's the Companies." She paused a little, waved her hand around and continued, "But it's all the latest stuff out. I'm actually testing a lot of it for them and it's a rather interesting Whiz Rig as you call it."

"Really now. You got me more than interested. Please tell me more, and how long you've been following me."

Again, she gave me that unsettled look, not sure of how much to tell me but said, "From Flagstaff, but did not know you were in the bus until I followed you into the coffee shop."

"Whoa woman, now I know why you were hidden behind those sun glasses and under the floppy odd ball hat, what an artist you were." I tossed up my hands in an exaggeration gesture and asked again, "Come on now, tell me all. What is your game and what the heck kind of rig is this?"

She spent a hundred dollar smile on me saying, "No can do. A lot of this is top-secret stuff. I shouldn't even be telling you this much."

"Hey, hey. If we are going to travel all the way to Florida, and get better acquainted, you can at least share some of your knowledge with me, I promise I won't tell anyone. Besides, I fell in love with you back at the Bee Hive, don't you know?"

She shot me a curious look and smiled but still said nothing, just shrugged those lovely shoulders of hers and laughed a little. So I took another route, pointed to the screen where my picture was still displayed, "For you to be sent out here with this Whiz Rig and pick me up, you most likely know more about me than my guardian angel."

This brought out a wholesome laugh. She had to admit and confess. "Yes Mr. Luke A. Mitchner, I've been given a profile. Then at that highway truck stop outside Albuquerque I had to do some background research on you, so I've read most of your published articles while waiting."

"You probably saw that entire cowboy show at the truck stop too, so you know I'm not a terrorist or a sleeper spy...right?"

"I think I missed that one. But tell you what, I'll share certain things with you on a need-to-know basis as we go. Is that good enough for you right now?"

"Sure, but I'll have to do the same with you too. Is that good enough for you...now?" I responded back with a twinkle in my eye and an honest true tone in my voice.

I was now picking up on her gestures and she used her face as a bulletin board announcing her codes of pleasure or codes of disapproval. Her well shaped brows rose and came together and her small tanned nose tweaked itself, allowing her teeth to show whiter than white as she curiously sent forth a quizzical smile. I was sure I read her codes clearly, that it was good to have someone other than a telephone master to take orders from, but to openly share with someone you can trust was way better. She gave me a long quizzical look, not sure how to take my long penetrating observations. I knew she was rethinking the profile data she had read on me. I could see her very nice lips making odd gestures, as if they were talking this deal over. After this exchange, we remained silent for long peaceful stretches of time, considering our own personal introspections. Ancient oaks and billowing willows spanned the highway with the rhythmic thumping in the road, along with the sequencing of the over hanging shadows becoming a hypnotic tunnel of meditation for us.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN – SANDWICHES IN THE NIGHT!

The miles disappeared in this peaceful trance, as we silently moved ahead, watching the countryside with its small towns moving on by, and a lovely evening was on its way. I was wondering what we were going to do for the night. It was evident she wasn't going to drive all night but I kept quiet. Soon she punched in a search key and came up with the state parks along our route. She then made a one night reservation and that was it. An hour or so later, we pulled into the Oak Temple Park and found our way into an oak cathedral near a running stream. It couldn't have been a better landing place after our long tranquil drive down the tunnel of serenity. She backed the Whiz Rig into its place and shut it down; and there we were.

"Well Luke, we might get out and stretch our legs and then you can take the upper bunk for the night, while I will sleep in the back fold down bunk."

Just as I was about to speak out my thoughts on our sleeping arrangements, she reached over, hit a button and reported in to her boss Mr. OK and the Agency.

"How about some dinner, what might we be doing for that part of our journey? Don't you ever eat?"

"In this case, I am required to stay with the Whiz Rig but I have plenty of things in the small laboratory refrigeration, just go help yourself, or if you want, I'll make us a couple of tasty sandwiches. How does that sound Mitchner?"

"Call me Luke or I'll be forced to call you by your full name, right!"

"Got it Luke, and how do you like your sandwiches? I suppose with everything: onions, tomatoes and kosher dill pickles too?"

"Oh boy, that sounds great, but it sounds like you're trying to make sure no mosquitoes come near us, or else keep me at a distance with all those super powerful condiments."

"You got it Luke, you are a rather tall, dark and handsome fellow, best I keep you full of onions and garlic for now so I don't fall into temptations. Or, I can always sleep with my gun in hand. Besides, with that scent on you, it will, for sure, keep those man-eating mosquitoes away from us." She laughed and moved past me, and teased me by making sure she rubbed up against me as she went to the back.

I almost stretched out my arm and pull her onto my lap, but I hesitated just for that moment and I missed the opportunity. But with this lost moment, she did manage to playfully pat my cheek and make it to the tiny kitchen safely. I leaned my chair back and listened to her hum some traveling song from out of the past. I like to hear ladies hum or sing while they workintelligent. It showed a contented character. Bib was not only intelligent, but pretty in features, very well proportioned, but she had that special spark of life in her that is seldom found. She was graceful and confident and she radiated a deep spirit of kindness. All this was growing on me.

This, in my thoughts was a contrast. For she was a trained FBI agent, having to deal with violence and unpleasant situations yet, she was still a loving person. I was definitely attracted. I had been with many women and I must confess, few had ever made it up this high on my scale of possibilities.

I must admit, those sandwiches were more than good. And I would say that they did keep my mouth busy and after what was our first dinner together, I became rather sleepy. After all, it had been a tiring day and I had a lot to think about.

After a long exchange of ideas and personal insights into one another's lives, we both drifted into a rather nice sleep. With some soft music playing throughout the speaker system, my sleep was rather nice, excluding the few times I woke up hearing Bib talking in her sleep. I had to smile, it sounded as though she was speaking with her mother about this tall, dark and handsome man she had come to know. The only thing I could do was to wait until morning and wait for the right moment in bringing this conversation up for further exploration.

It had to be a symphony of birds that awoke us before dawn. It was a pleasant time, a bit too early for me, but Bib was already putting on coffee and preparing herself for the day. "Up and ready Mitchner, time to get rolling," she sang out, making sure we didn't fall too far behind.

"Go away, go away," I complained.

"Hey, I can't be hauling some tall, dark and handsome stranger around in my bed on wheels, what might the Agency say?" With inviting playfulness she flicked some cold water onto my face as she passed by and got into the driver's seat.

"That's not fair, you kept me awake half the night with your deep sleep conversations. In fact I was thinking of coming over to you and make sure those mosquitoes weren't bothering you."

She gave me a sheepish look, tinged with a hint of concern. Pondering that she might have been caught snoring. Without further concerns, she started up the Whiz Bang van and set all devices into motion.

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN – THE VILES AND THE BUGS!

As we made our way through Mississippi, then into Alabama, still 800 miles from the coastline of Florida, Bib spent time questioning me about my involvement with the space cult. I told her everything I knew and picked her brain about what was going on. I didn't mind picking her brain, she was a nice looking woman to pick on. You'd never suspect her to be a FED; and as I investigated, found out she was not attached nor was she married; nor would she give up much information about this state of affairs.

She kept redirecting our conversations back to business and away from her personal life. "I can't tell you everything. But it could be a major disaster if we don't catch it in time."

"What do you mean a major disaster, and catch it? Sounds like some disease."

She said she was not at liberty to tell me more, unless she got clearance from the Agency, Mister OK to be exact. However, all this secrecy was not new to me; I had done a few stories on past FBI cases and knew that you could bargain with these people if you had the right thing to bargain with. Now I knew why I had taken those vials out of Etroid's trunk.

"Ok, Bib, tell you what, I'll hand over something that you might be interested in, if you will tell me the full story and keep me in the loop of on-going events."

She shot me a look, then remarked casually, "You know I can't do that. I'm only a bug on the window and I'm not allowed to make deals."

"O bull dung, what if your life depended on it?"

"I'd still have to consider the ramifications of what kind of a deal and who it might effect."

"I'm sure there will come a time when you're gonna have to make a decision without the boss's stamp of approval. It happens to the best of all subordinates."

She looked over at me with somewhat of a rebellious frown on her face, apparently she did not consider herself an underling to anyone.

Having picked her brain and gained insight to her character I thought it might be a good time to introduce her to the deal making game. I knew I had some valuable evidence in my possession and wanted her to gain some credibility from it. No reason to just hand it over to the so-called big guns at her Agency and leave her with nothing. So thought I'd venture into this woman's career a bit more. "Bib, I am willing to make a deal with you, and you alone. I see no need for those hot shot desk agents to get all the credit while you take the risks."

"What the heck you talking about Mitchner?"

"Look, I have some very important items that I took out of Etroid's secret trunk. I got a feeling it is something that your Agency would love to get their hands on."

"O really, sounds interesting. What is it?"

Bluntly I stated, "Two different vials marked X and O, right out of the Generals secret war chest."

"You got to be kidding me."

"Nope, been wondering what they were and in all our conversations, I think they just might be the core reason why Etroid is taking this bus ride to Florida." I waited for some reaction. Her face revealed serious frustration and it also ignited up with hope. "I am willing to hand it over to you personally, if you will cut a deal with me to share every bit of information with me, and that you make sure I get first by-line on the entire story when it finally breaks."

"I can't do that!"

"Sure you can. Just ask your boss if it's worth his while to get your hands on a few vials of odd looking stuff, marked with X's and O's, right out of Etroid's secret stash."

I smiled at her, while she stared back at me with her wide green eyes. I chuckled, "Yes, two vials right from Etroid's personal box of goodies and they're all yours if you want to deal."

This got her excited, "You're kidding me."

"Nope, lifted it myself a day or so back. I will only hand it over to you. Once you make the big deal with me, it's all yours and no one else's."

She became rather upset at my intent and began weaving along the way. Beepers sounded and a few warning buzzers went off and this got her attention and alerted me that I was on the right track. "You can't do that. This is a national security situation; it could cost thousands of lives and America's loss of the moon settlement." She emphatically and emotionally announced what she thought might persuade me.

"That's my deal; I'm only going to bargain with you and you alone. For once I hand this stuff over, my bargaining chips are gone."

She realized what I had done and just shook her head saying, "You're really something, so I got to make a deal with you now?"

"Yep, it's in your hands now, make up your mind."

Immediately Bib got on her secured satellite phone and was soon talking to the big gun Commander Oscar Kennedy! She carefully explained my deal and let it be known that I was not going to talk with anyone but her, and if she could not cut the deal with me, I'd be tossing the vials into the nearest creek. A long pause interjected itself and I waited.

I could hear the gears of authority turning, and after hearing a serious outburst of very expressive words from her so-called leadership, some kind of authority was given her. I did not know at that moment, but this bargaining power would place a cover over Bib and assure her a place of recognition in the Agency.

"Sure. Yes sir, I will," I heard her say. She then turned to me, "It's a go. My commander says it won't hurt for you to know as much as we do, so far. But you've got to promise that you will not send out your story or any information to your editor, until or unless we clear it first." She reached over and laid her hand onto my arm letting me know that this was something important to her and that I had just assisted her in climbing up the ladder, one more rung.

"I might be able to do that, as long as you understand that my role in this affair is to extract a great story. That's my main concern; and I do hope to get those farm kids out of this mess, unharmed. I got to admit, this story is turning out to be bigger than I dreamed. Events may not be able to be held in check, so I want first dibs on the exclusive."

"We cannot promise an exclusive. But I can give you my word that I'll do everything possible to make sure you're kept updated on events as we go."

I thought this over, and hey, I thought, I am pretty sure I already know plenty, so if I can pick up any detail from them, then let it be.

"Ok, I'll accept your word Bib. You seem like an alright person, but please don't let me down on this one. Ah, but one more thing to this deal," I smiled and waited.

"What now Mitchner?"

"I want a promise that you'll go out to dinner with me once we have accomplished our tasks."

"Surprisingly, she stuck out her very delicate but firm hand to shake, and I accepted.

I broke into an old song, not in the best tune but its message was there. "Don't let me down...!"

"I'm impressed. A journalist and a singer too. Now where are those vials?" She didn't skip a beat with her coaxing voice, overlaid with a smile of innocence.

Those green eyes did a job on my mental processes trying to maintain the upper hand. "Wow, you don't waste time, do you?"

"No, it could be extremely important. So let's have it, and I'll get it to an agent to start figuring out what it might be. And by the way, you're rather fast yourself, wouldn't you say? You hardly know me and I've already made a dinner date with you."

We pulled over and I retrieved my backpack, dug around and tossed Joejo's cap onto the seat, along with a few of my personal items. Finally I pulled out an empty chip bag, opened it up and held up the thick bluish vial first and then extracted the longer tube and declared, "Here she blows, X and O!"

"Hey, don't fool around with that. It might be something too powerful to deal with if it's broken or if you open it up."

While I was replacing my things, she had lifted Joejo's cap and was examining the chrome button snaps round its edge. She slowly looked at me, "Where did you get this?"

"That is Joejo's cap, all the cadets wear them." I added, "They make a big deal of them. Etroid insists that they wear them everywhere they go, sort of like an ID thing."

Bib was shaking her head as I watched her tear off one of the 12 chrome buttons around the caps rim.

Within a moment she had pried open the tiny button and handed it over to me, "Take a look."

"Oh my goodness, it's a crystal chip filled with wires. Looks like some kind of a bug."

"You got it my friend, that is exactly what it is." Then she tugged off the center gold cap piece and soon was tossing it around in the palm of her hand while telling me about the main central transmitter.

I sat there thinking back, as Bib began her explanation, "We have been monitoring all your communications, but did not know how it was being done between you and the cadet crew. This is ingenious."

"What is so great about it?" I inquired in a state of stupefaction.

"Etroid must have a receiver somewhere so he can listen to everyone who wears these caps."

Then I thought about that long odd phone device in Etroid's box. It could be a receiver, most likely a satellite recorder, where he could just call up a transmitted conversation and listen to it any time he wanted. So he knew everything we had been talking about, and he knew that we were planning to get into his crate. Oh sheet, I bet that's why Joejo was poisoned. I wondered if I was targeted with that snake?

"Hey, can he be listening to us right now through this cap?" I asked frantically.

"No, its range is somewhat limited, and besides, I removed the transmitter. But we will be able to use it to better monitor him now."

Bib went on giving me details about this device. Of course, it was in layman's terms for my sake, leaving no doubt that she was a communications engineer.

She was not afraid to tell me of the incredible sophistication within these little spheres; she seemed to hint at my ignorance in not realizing that the boys' caps were more than club hats. "This has got to be a very well-funded organization and certainly has well-trained scientists or engineers within its works." She took her eyes off the highway as she surmised, glancing over at my interested look.

In my own defense, not wanting to appear too stupid I spoke up, "Listen young lady, this started out to be a simple last time hitch hiking trip. How the hell did I know that I would be caught up into an international plot of electronic sophisticates?"

"Ok, ok, I understand," she raised her hands up as if to admit her understanding.

I was really bothered about how much Etroid had listened, and I had to shake my head. For everything I had spoken to the boys and especially to Joejo, had been listened to. At least I knew now that Etroid was no mind reader!

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – BAD NEWS!

Within an hour we stopped at a rest area midway through Alabama, headed for the Florida border looking for the I 95 junction cut off. We waited there, and within a short time we heard the thudding of a helicopter in the distance. Soon, out of the north came a chopper that landed in the open grass field. Bib jumped out, ran over and handed the vials, along with one of the chrome transmitters, up to an agent waiting with a stainless steel cylinder for transport, and off they went.

"Wow. That was quick. Pretty serious, I'm guessing. You really got connections there, young lady."

She excitedly smiled, generating a bright sparkle in those deep green eyes. Her entire body seemed animated in triumph, and her wide open eyes were fixed on me. Her expression of accomplishment spread over her well-tanned face, while answering my statement, "More than you want to know at this time and again, please call me Bib."

Somehow I joined in this feeling of accomplishment, even though I was not sure what exactly it was. In that moment of excitement I watched the chopper disappear over the distant tree tops and asked, "What is the next stop and the next step for us now?"

Her phone went off, "Excuse me Luke, got to get this." Speaking away from me and into the phone, "Hello, I'm back Oscar. Sure, I understand and will keep all that in mind. I know you're concerned and so are the rest of us." A big rig truck began to pass us, honking while Bib waved her free hand out to the driver and completed the call.

These calls began to irritate me; I couldn't get in a word edgewise. I had to chuckle at myself, I barely knew this woman and I was already getting jealous with all these phone calls to her.

"Oscar. Ahh, getting rather familiar with your commander aren't you?" I interjected my displeasure at that moment.

Bib shot me a puzzling look and shrugged her shoulders, "Not really, he's been telling us lowly peasant agents to call him 'O K', for the longest time, O K standing for Oscar ,'Kennedy as you might have figured out. So sometimes when I'm feeling rather up and frisky, I'll take the chance and call him at least Oscar."

"What the heck kind of a name is Oscar, and OK too? Sounds like a stubby guy who promotes wieners," I made my feelings known through the strength of my retort.

"Getting a bit testy are we, Luke?"

I went silent and caught myself in this uncalled for emotion.

Bib checked her side mirrors and gave me a quick glance, "Sorry Mitchner, for all the interruptions. The Bureau has input all the information you supplied and with the International Moon Communal Launch scheduled for tomorrow, we have been assigned to the Jetty Park area. There are other agents already in place in the Jetty Park area and the Freddy Patrick Park south on A-1 along the Indian River. All agents are trying to pin point this wacko operation, but the big shot leader, the Galactic General, your buddy Etroid, is the one we're looking for. He is calling the shots and if we get him, we might just prevent a major disaster."

"Why Jetty Park?"

"Well, if you look on the map you'll see that Jetty Park is just a short ways north of the Cape launch site." She punched in the name and one screen displayed a map of the area with the park highlighted in light blue. "It's a fairly secluded beach park and has a perfect view of the launch site."

"So how does this matter?"

"Not really sure yet. But this Etroid is a full-fledged freak who has already been directly involved in those 26 suicides on Catalina. He thinks he is invincible, but still likes his privacy."

"You think he's going to try to do something to stop that launch?" I asked with a leery tone in my voice; already knowing that the puzzle of the moon launch and Etroid's being there was rather obvious.

"It might be just that, or worse. But we are not sure. Just got to find this guy. For sure, he is no dummy."

"Do you think the farm boys are in trouble too?"

"Anyone around this guy is in trouble."

I flashed back on the old man at the country market and his comment on how a million tourists might be there on launch day. Now we're talking big time troubles.

Just then Bib's smart phone jangled a soft upbeat tune again. She casually looked over at me, knowing that all these calls irritated me, smiled and answered it, listened for a few minutes and nodded a couple times. A serious look spread across her face while she bit down on her lower lip squeezing her eyes shut. Taking a long look at the highway ahead, she looked over at me and shook her head noticeably. She clicked off her phone and set it aside.

She reached over, laid her firm hand on my arm and spoke softly, "Not good news. Don't know exactly how to say this but, your buddy Joe, or Joejo, just died."

In shock I choked out, "Oh my God, not Joejo. What the hell? How bad was it?" I cried out in both anger and anguish.

"According to the doctors, it was an unusual poison of tremendous strength that took only a tiny dose to do its job."

This woman must have had training in delivering bad news, for her voice became soothing and carried soft comforting words to my fiery thoughts.

"Luke, I'm so sorry, this is not your fault, but Joejo never stood a chance. They know it was administered through something he drank or ate, because they found traces of poisonous toxicity in his mouth—and half his teeth were strangely eaten away."

"Oh, sheet. That could have been meant for me, maybe in our morning coffee." I thought back to that morning and remembered that Gunther and Abel had been tossing around the football. It had knocked over my coffee and spilled everything onto my jammed toast. Etroid had, for the first time, shown some real anger at them.

Bib's voice faded back in, "There will be an autopsy, but I'll bet it was the same stuff used on Catalina." Bib looked over her shoulder and got into the fast lane, switching onto another Interstate going southeast, following the stats on the GPS. She glanced over at me with sincere sympathy on her kind face and asked if I was going to be ok.

I nodded, but stared out my window in deep contemplation while tears rolled down my face. Thinking that if I had not been so nosey, maybe this would not have happened. Bib waited a while, then said, "It's not your fault. I think that this incident is only the beginning of something far worse. If Joejo served any purpose, it alerted us to what's to come."

I sat there watching the trees and signs flash by, just thinking the man was dead. He had his whole life before him. I wondered if Joe would have wanted to become an unknown alert, just a lead bell ringing in the desert. Some odd-ball warning to the world about a malefactor from green hell!

My thoughts went everywhere. This was far more than just a hitch hiking story, it had now become a murder case on the way to Florida.

Dark tumbling clouds painted the mood as they spread over the southern horizon at the hands of some great artist in the sky. While silence ruled the next few hours and the question of people being in danger was more than evident now. I really began to question myself. Here I was, soon to inherit millions and take on an enormous amount of responsibility that I could not understand as of yet. And here I am sitting in this electronic techno van of the future, zooming across the southern United States with a beautiful FBI Agent named Bib? Oh that was not enough, but I was now tainted with a young mans death and chasing a wanted eco criminal, preparing to maybe kill millions?

My deep thoughts and tangled emotions were suddenly knocked out of my head by a massive flash of lightening directly in front of us.

"Wow, that was close," Bib let out a frightened yelp.

"Sure was. Hope we aren't going to get caught in the jaws of the famous Alabama tornado alley, caught up into the heavens in one of those deadly twisters," I spoke out while trying to measure the storms powers.

Bib shot me a serious look and suggested to think positive.

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – THE STORM!

After several hours of a back and forth question and answer session, the long open stretch led the way across Alabama. While the western border of Florida drew near, radio reports of a tropical storm and the possibilities of tornados became a constant alert. Finally Bib's handlers sent a concerned warning that she should find a safe place to park the new lab van and wait the storm out. No doubt, the winds were blowing against us; the highway was nearly abandoned.

It was clear she had never had to deal with anything like this before and was unsure of what to do; but still, she could not allow me to drive. We either stayed on the highway and punched through the black tumbling storm or find a hiding place to wait it out. I had reported on and had been through these fast moving storms before and knew they were nothing to take lightly. Already we could see constant lightening strikes ahead and watched things blowing across the road.

Bib scanned the satellite shots of the area from 20 miles up; no doubt, there was a storm on its way. My eyes scanned the aerial shots and had her zoom in on what seemed to be some type of industrial complex just ahead of us. We needed a safe place to hide and soon saw a sign off to our right indicating a historical cotton mill. I told Bib to turn onto the road that might lead us to the mill. Of course, she argued and questioned my idea but after a few branches flew by, bouncing off the van, she made the turn.

The road was already littered with debris, but as we drew near, the abandoned mill seemed to offer some shelter. This was the open area that I had seen on the satellite views. The winds were howling and the sky was black with fury. I pointed out for her to turn into a small loading area between a cement building and a row of huge silos. With every possible hesitation, and more than enough concerns, she slowly began to see the logic in getting out of the direct winds. Bib found some confidence, moved along the building, down a narrow alley, then backed the Wiz Rig in between two massive silos. The silos broke the main thrust of the wind, but the odd howling created the effect that we were in a screech concert held in a wind tunnel.

We sat there with the van swaying and rocking in the various blasts of wind while lightening and thunder lit up the darkness with massive flashes. I knew one thing, it was a good thing we had found this snug hiding place, and there would have been no way of escaping the power of the winds along the road. This was no little storm and the reports of tornados were coming through more often now. Soon the electronics went dead and we were really alone.

"Are you doing ok Bib?" I inquired. It was obvious she was frightened and most likely worried that her first real assignment testing the van would be ruined by this storm. Having responsibility for the new FBI communications van was now taking its toll on her assigned reliability.

"What if these silos are torn apart and fall on us?" she was asking while trying to see up and out, during one of the flashes.

"No problem. No one will ever find us then!" This shook her up and I thought it would be better to take her advice and be more positive. "I don't think that will be. This place was built by engineers who knew about the tropical storms and hurricanes that come through now and then; this is why it is still standing and considered a historical landmark. They would have made sure things were built strong." I tried to reassure her and add to my own hopes, that this was no government construction job gone payoff.

All our electronics were flickering and the satellite communications had gone out. We sat there for the longest time just listening to the wind rise and fall.

I walked back into the open area of the van and grabbed two bottles of water and some chips for us, but Bib was not in a mood to munch.

Darkness and gloom had settled in by now. During the lightening flashes I caught sight of her expressions of fear and tried to reassure her that all would be fine. Like a mother hen, she kept looking around making sure everything was still in place. One minute her eyes were glued to the window watching the flashes then she would try working her systems. But nothing would work for her.

"Ummm, I got to go to the bathroom," she finally said.

"Well, that is normal, get up and go, use your porta-potty in the lab area."

"No way, I'm going to step outside and do my thing out there," she was looking out the window as she mumbled.

"You're crazy, just use the facilities inside."

"No way. I don't want to. It is embarrassing enough to even tell you this, no less sit back there knowing you're listening. Besides, you are a total stranger."

"Ah come on...I ain't any kid when it comes to natural body function stuff." I flashed back on one of my Mexico jail stays, locked into one cell with 9 other humans; four of them white college girls. Then there was that two week entrapment in a five room, 1000 year old hotel with a hundred other travelers during a blizzard on the border of Afghanistan. So her worries about me being right there was laughable to me.

But while I was harking back, a gust of wind blew into the van as she opened the door and said, "I'll be right back," and the wind slammed the door closed.

I shrugged and thought that if she wanted this, go for it, I'm not her boss, but within five minutes of her not returning I got worried. I climbed out my side of the van and was immediately hit with flying sand, stones and pieces of branches. I fought my way around the back of the van tapping so she would know I was out there but there was no response.

"Bib, are you there? Are you ok?" I tapped and called, but there was no answer.

I held onto the bumper and pulled my way around the corner as a flying wall of branches and leaves caught me full on. This side of the rig was really getting pounded. With my head down I began looking to see if this woman Bib was ok, but I could not see much to begin with; where the heck did she go?

Bam! Something hard hit my forehead, bounced away off the side of the van then a stick ripped into my sleeve. Damn it, this was nuts to be out here. I put my face downwards to protect my eyes and called out again, "Bib, Bib! Are you out here?"

As I felt my way along the van I suddenly stepped on what felt to be a leg. I bent down and there lay Bib. Apparently something had hit her and knocked her down and out. I bent over her while the winds hurled trash and stones at us. I tried talking to her but my words were ripped away like tinsel in a storm. The only thing left to do was to reach down and pick her up. She was partially stuck under the van next to the dual back tires. I took hold and pulled her out and lifted her over my shoulder.

I was bent low as I made my way back around the van to my side; the winds were less there, but still pounding us.

Oh no. There came a sudden discovery as I made my way, and I knew it was going to be big trouble. No way, this couldn't be happening to me. Bib's jogging pants were partially down.

She must have been hit while squatting and now here I was carrying this full grown woman, knocked out cold, with her pants partially down. Really now, the only thing I had to do was get her into the side door and lay her down and let her handle the rest. This was not funny, pieces of wood and stones were blasting us and with her backside partially exposed, I knew she was probably getting pelted by rocks and stuck with slivers. As I got the side door open, she began to stir. I flopped her down and climbed in while trying to slam the door behind me. It took two hands and as I pulled it tight, of course I fell back nearly on top of her.

The van went quiet when the door shut. Lightening and thunder shook the ground, and yes, it happened, this beautiful young FBI agent awoke to see me in one of the flashes. That was not frightening enough, but she suddenly became aware that her clothes were somewhat disturbed. While carrying her, I had attempted to pull things up and put things together before she awoke but the entanglements and blowing wind would not allow my fumbling hands to do a proper job.

The only thing I could think to say was, "Are you ok?"

She was silent, just lying there staring at me between massive lightening flashes, with huge staring eyes. Trying to figure out why her pants were not rightly done up.

The flashes seemed to turn the inside of the van into a night club atmosphere with strobe lights and crackling thunder for greater visual effects, the howling winds offering up strange background music.

As she began to come to her full senses, she began pushing backwards with her feet, trying to get away from me as fast as she could. Without realizing it, she must have had a few slivers stuck in her backside and as she moved they must have snagged and pained her all the more as she let out a little yelp!

I could read the look on her face. It looked like some kind of a training video on how to deal with perverts, and it was loud and clear! Before she could say anything, I spoke up, "You stupid woman, I told you not to go out there. You were gone too long and I had to go out there to see if you were ok...and good thing I did!"

Her face was one great question mark. It was obvious that large chunks of doubts, mistrust and embarrassment were swirling around in her eyes like a stew at boil. She was sitting up now arranging her shirt and pants and adjusting her belt. I thought I could hear her mumbling, "You stinking pervert!"

"Wait a minute here; you were totally knocked out, stuck under the van near the back wheels." I paused and was trying to show her by hand gestures how she was stuck but she was not having it.

In my favor, just then a huge branch hit the front of the van, hung there for a moment, tore off the passenger side windshield wiper and then continued on its way. "Really, I had no choice but to first get you out of the storm and I had to keep my face covered. Things were hitting me, I was crawling through a wind tunnel!"

"Believe me, I didn't even notice that your pants were, well not all the way up until I got you in the van." This was not totally the truth but there was no use telling her that her rear end had been exposed to a tornado wind for several minutes in full view of its rescuer.

She nearly choked saying, "Huh, not all the way up but down?" She seemed to be looking around for her gun or some weapon, I thought.

"Just feel your head, it has a good lump on it and is bleeding a little, this is where you must have been hit."

I know that a woman's vanity is everything. Way more than a split open head with blood coming out. I could see that the only thing that really counted to her was that I had noticed her rounded rear end somewhat exposed. Even though it was nearly covered with leaves and twigs, it didn't matter. But finally, her hand went up to the top of her head and, lo and behold, she did discover a large bump and when she pulled down her hand, there was some blood on it. A look of some assurance came over her face. I felt, just for a moment, a tiny reprieve from being classified a pervert or voyeur and maybe even a peeping tom. She was still puzzled, but at least now she recognized that I just might have saved her!

I didn't let the moment pass, I stepped over to the basin and took a wet towel and bent down to take a look at her head wound. She tried to grab the towel away but I held it tight and said, "Just sit still while I check this out."

I had to pull a hand full of leaves and enough twigs to start a fire from out of her hair before I could clean the cut. It wasn't really too bad but I made sure she knew she had been wounded.

"Ok, ok Mitchner, that is enough. You're making too much out of this," she spoke out, regaining her full wit and authority. She let out another yelp as she sat up on the side of the bed. I was guessing she had a few splinters stuck tight in her bottom. I could see that she was trying to hide this fact and so I carefully spoke up, "Listen Bib, why don't you go into the lab area and with some tweezers, pull those slivers out. We still have a long ways to go and since you cannot allow me to drive, you're not going to be able to sit there and make it."

She hesitated for a few moments, while branches and rocks now mixing with large pieces of hail pelted the van. Her hand slid over the area of pain and finally nodded saying, "I'm going in the back for a minute, keep those hungry eyes up front if you will."

I smiled and promised that I would and that I would not dare tell Oscar, Mr. OK, about her wounded rump. She shot me a dirty look and made her way to the back lab area. I could hear her opening drawers looking around, finally coming up with the tweezers.

I sat there looking out at this storm. It was a good thing we had pulled off the road and found this hiding place, at least we were safe out of the hurricane force winds and no twisters could get to us. I heard Bib muttering some form of serious irritation as she must have been trying to extract those slivers.

In a high pitched voice of frustration, "Mitchner," I heard her say.

"Yeah, I'm here still looking out the front windows. What you need Brady?"

"Ah, well. Ah, I definitely have a couple of good slivers in my well, upper leg, and I cannot reach around to get them out."

She paused here and I thought I heard a sniffle of frustration come forth, and then she said in a low humble voice, "I think I am going to need your assistance with these last slivers–they're bad."

Oh my, I thought, this was going to be interesting. I'd better be accommodating here, rather than being a wise guy. I stifled my laugh at this really odd situation and replied in a professional doctor type voice, "Yes, I've done some medical first aid before, pulling out a few slivers can't be that big of a deal."

Bib replied with embarrassment woven into her words, "The slivers ain't the big deal, it is you having to, well, pull them out of my rear end, is the big deal."

"Are you saying that your derriere is the big deal or what?" I had to ask.

"Listen Mitchner, get back here and do your first aid thing. And if you ever speak of this to anyone, I'll hunt you down and painfully wound your entire life, starting with your posterior!"

I made my way back to where she was standing, now holding the tweezers out to me. I tried to remain serious with a stone cold face, but those stupid smiles kept sneaking onto my face. It was my uncontrollable eye brows that kept revealing what my brain was observing. She saw this and snapped. "Mitchner, get with it and help me without making things worse." She shoved the tweezers into my hand and turned slightly to one side. I was telling her that this was no big deal, everyone had a tush, just deal with it, and I followed her hand pointing to the two large slivers stuck solidly into her left cheek.

"Oh wow, they are definitely slivers. I had to pinch the area in order to get hold with the instrument. Immediately she let me know not to be doing any unnecessary touching and get on with it.

For sure, this was no romantic event. In my event-calendar it would be classified as a serious midstorm crisis and I went to work. To break the tension of the moment, I began to hum one of my favorite tunes from "Summer time and the living is easy."

"So you were listening to me play back at the coffee shop. You better not be mocking me, Mr. Mitchner."

"So that was you for sure, ahh?"

"Yeah, you knew that, get with the operation now and stop with the top 40 tunes of the season," she snapped.

Without a doubt, she was well formed and her muscles were solid and without a pinch of fat. I learned later that she was a marshal arts student. The first sliver came out rather easily and she let out a little yelp and reached around and pulled on my hair. "Hey, that is not fair; I don't deserve to be attacked while doing my duty on a set of government owned buns."

"Shut up and get the other one out!" She really blasted out her protest against my bad reference that her buns were owned by good old Uncle Sam.

I returned to my task but the second one was deeper and larger. I apologized as I had to press hard onto the muscle and dig a little. Of course she let out a yelp and began actually using a few very colorful words to help her through the dramatic pain. Finally, it was out and I had the sliver in the grips of the tweezers. I stood up showing her my handiwork. I asked if she had any salve or first aid cream to put onto her wounded gluteus maximus and she, with renewed frustration, said that she would now handle the rest and that I could return back up front.

"Ok, no problem, but I'd be more than happy to rub the first aid cream into the wounds, and I won't even charge extra."

She grabbed the tweezers back but I had slipped the larger sliver into my shirt pocket, as a souvenir. She pushed me away and finished up the treatment herself.

We spent the next half hour grooming ourselves and one another; all the while listening and watching the storm pound the area.

I slowly picked out the rest of the twigs and leaves out of her hair and she brushed off the sand and pebbles off my back and shirt. Then she noticed the lump and small cut on the side of my forehead. After applying a wet towel and some kind of medical cream, this helped me to retrieve a pardon from any unwanted handling of her person. Some hot tea helped relax us as we thought it best to just sit still and wait out the storm. There was no reason for us to get back into our front seats so we wrapped a few blankets around us and leaned back against the cabinet. The van was constantly shaken with gusts of wind and we both were thankful that we had found a cozy hiding place from the anger of Mother Nature.

Her mistrust of me had somewhat dissipated and the hours of waiting were spent talking about our lives and dreams. I felt that for the first time in years I had found someone to really communicate with. At the same time I learned more about this Brady Ivory Brewer and her family than I ever thought to know. I was more than impressed with her family ideals, and what a family! Her father had been a mining engineer and had bought into several mining ventures with great results. Her mother was involved in state politics. The family was now owners of two large Reno hotel-casino establishments and she had been sandwiched between two sets of twins, her older brothers were Gabriel and Michael with her younger twin sisters named Carol and Kathy.

Her entire family was bound up in the Reno scene but she wanted something different, thus a break from her family. She had to do it on her own. She had gone through a great struggle, an escape from a pre-arranged destiny to hotel life. Her long walk to higher education and her final acceptance into the FBI was a great personal achievement, and I understood this.

Besides all her personal achievements, she was a marshal arts expert in at least three different disciplines. I then understood why her muscles were like iron. But one of the neatest things was that she was a registered douser! This was most intriguing to me and she explained the principles of locating underground streams and springs. This seemed to be only one of her special gifts and she had done rather well for herself out in the dry Nevada desert. To me this douser thing bordered on a psychic gift of sorts, for she had also been able to locate lost children and find downed aircrafts, and had saved several people with her unusual talent.

Bib was a great listener and was amazed at many of the off the wall stories I told her. She said that her agency could have a field day with some of my unknown episodes. The brutal storm had locked us into this hideaway, but it had also opened some doors for us. Somewhere in the night her FBI persona was set aside while the sorrows of the loss of my grandparents took a back seat and we really began to communicate.

For me, the storm ended a little too soon.

We were getting rather tender with each other when she noticed that the winds had died down. Darn, just as things were getting good!

We uncurled from the tangled blankets and realized that the night had passed and the storm was pretty well gone. She put on some coffee, then while I went outside to check things out, she started the van and tried resetting the electronics and satellite communication systems, but not with much luck. Once we pulled out of the hiding spot the satellite system and dash gadgets began to load up. Sure enough, it was her boss–Kennedy and ten other technicians wanting to know where she was at, and was everything ok.

I had to ask, "Is it that Larry or Moe guy again?"

She shot me a dirty look and I knew we were back on our way to Florida, after the bad guys once again.

As we drove away I began to sing one of the Oldies But Goodies, "O what a night!" She shot me a dirty look and punched it!

With the big storm having blown through, the good news was that the triple moon launch had been delayed one day. We were wondering if the green bus had made it to the park or not. The last leg of our drive to the Florida coast was rather nice; we had become rather cozy with one another and had opened up our feelings. Somehow we had really connected, and I was most pleased with our new friendship.

### CHAPTER NINETEEN – JETTY PARK AND SECRET TIMES

It was getting late when we got word that a large eco rally and protest was going to take place in Jetty Park, along the Florida coast, starting tomorrow. We crossed the Indian River, went south and found the Jetty Park turn off from US-1, settling in next to three large, wind whipped pines on the north beach side of the park. We figured that if Etroid was in the park to watch the next day's launch, they would be on the south side, facing the cape launch site. We got comfortable, sat back and ate some pizza and fresh fruits we had picked up along the way, while we waited for dark to fill in the gaps.

Bib had called in for a possible sighting and she was informed that a surveillance helicopter was soon to pass the area; we would be notified if the green bus was in the park and how many of Etroid's followers were in the park. The weather was clear, with the launch set for noon the next day. We were waiting for the surveillance to report back to us when I spotted Josh and Jethro walking along the beach just east of where we were parked. I pointed them out to Bib, concerned that they might see us. "Nah, the glass is tinted and we are parked in the trees. No way. Just sit tight and let's see what they do."

We watched them walk out towards the water and sit down among some larger rocks as if to talk. Bib hit a few switches and a telescopic lens device lifted out of the top roof area and began scanning the beach. There on the screen appeared the boys. With a few touch screen jabs, the scope brought the boys up so close that we could read their lips if we wanted. Bib said that they were having a rather serious talk; apparently part of her training was to read lips. It appeared that Jethro was taking pictures of the spectacular sunset. Soon we could hear the chopper flying overhead, high off to the east. "How should we handle this?" I asked while looking down the beach.

"Well, as long as they are wearing those caps, you won't be able to approach them; their surprise will be transmitted to Etroid."

"I got to get to them, so they know what's going on."

Bib nonchalantly suggested that we just wait a while, until the chopper report came in. Soon, Bib's cell rang and once again, she began her nodding while taking down notes.

After closing her phone she said, "It looks like the bus is out on the south point, sitting among a number of vehicles with two large green tents set up. It definitely appears that there are a number of uniformed cadets and followers gathered, and for sure some preparations of sorts are taking place. It could be a club or organization gathering for a celebration, but the large tents are covering most of the activity. Your green bus in all its tattered glory is there, tucked away in the trees."

Drumming her fingers on the wheel, she made another call to the mysterious Mr. OK boss man. I was getting uptight at her having to call in to the boss for every little decision. I could hear her talking about the chrome transmitter and about various frequencies. Soon she squeezed by me to go into the back of the van-lab, telling me to keep an eye out.

This statement was up for interpretation, so my eyes became fixed on the rear view mirror. It's not my fault. My two eyes were keeping a close watch, just like they were told. A truly incredible view of a real FBI spy going through a change appeared. Then, only partially dressed, she was working some dials, pushing some buttons on her computer. While her screen was flashing, she changed into something more comfortable, before returning to the front seat, wearing running shoes, a Hawaiian shirt and some nice-fitting worn blues. This woman really had all the right buttons and equipment, no doubt she had the ability to capture my attention.

In a complete casual voice, even though she had just gone through a transformation from stern FBI agent into a hot date, she was saying, "Ok, I adjusted the frequencies. We will use this transmitter off Joejo's cap, to block any transmission from their caps."

"Can we pick up their transmissions now?" I came back to reality as I wondered. One thing was for sure, this woman had also adjusted my frequencies.

"First. Are you doing okay Luke? You look a little flushed. Do you need the air on?"

"Everything is fine," I answered, certainly not wanting to tell her that I had just seen an angel being transformed in the mirror, and that my frequencies had been readjusted!

"Ok, then just let me bring it up on my laptop." With a click of a few buttons, I was amazed. Suddenly there were Josh and Jethro talking up a storm. They seemed to be arguing about a decision, something about tomorrow's event, a tattoo, and did they really want to be part of all this.

We listened. Josh the more logical of the cadets was expressing his doubts, "I'm not sure of this. Why should we be getting involved in any of this?"

There was a long pause, and Josh continued with his concerns, "And who are all those weirdoes using our bus now? I thought Etroid was the General, but he seems to be just another uniform among all those others." Josh paused and hesitantly went on, "And you know what Mom and Dad think about tattoos, what are they going to say when they hear that we got one and then volunteered for some outer space trip?"

Jethro burst out in laughter. "Hey Mr. Banker man, where the hell have you been."

He guffawed a few times as he stated, "We are up to our eye brows in this thing already. Now all of a sudden you're worried what Mom and Dad are going to say?" Jethro laughed again but we could feel the tension building between them. Josh started to speak up, but Jethro cut him off, "Mom and Dad...Huh, don't you realize that we joined up with this space force and that if all goes well and we are accepted, there ain't gonna be any more Mom and Dad – we are going to be leaving, like departing this world man!"

At this blunt statement Josh's logic broke down and realization began to set up, like fast drying cement.

Bib broke into the listening session and said, "We got to restore that kids logic, and use his doubts to get them out of this mess."

"You and I must have taken the same course. That was exactly what I was thinking. This whole thing has turned into a psychological game; we got to work that doubt into a wedge that will break them out of the setting cement," Luke expressed himself and Bib was actually listening.

But then Jethro seemed to put everything on the line, arguing, "You knew this more than all of us, from the time we hooked up with the General."

Josh seemed to ponder these statements.

Jethro seemed to hesitate and coughed a little but proceeded, "It's part of our on-going training. Unless we step up and take the oaths and join into the work, getting our tattoos, we better know that we will be rejected from Etroid's Galactic Force forever."

Jethro, who had seemed to be the less confident one throughout the trip, reasoned, possibly trying to reassure himself; really sounding as though he needed to be part of something greater than himself.

"Yeah, I know. But hey, what if we get caught in the middle of all the crap that's going to hit the fan?" Josh seemed to be a bit more aware of the on going events, realizing the seriousness of their involvement in this way out scheme.

"Nah. Etroid says No Way. Before anyone knows what happened, we will all be on the ship and out to sea," Jethro replied confidently.

Josh, with some disgust in his voice admitted, "It's too late anyhow, the bus is being used by Etroid and his officers and all our stuff is in it. And then there is Able and Gunther, fully committed, just like geese which have flown south." It was as if he was saying: how did we allow this to happen?

I turned to Bib, "That's interesting. No more bus back to Iowa, no more Mom or Dad, but they are sure they are going to be taken away by some kind of ship. How stupid can some people be."

"Sure thing, and glad we are hearing about it ahead of time. But those cadets have no idea what awaits them out to sea. Is it really an ocean liner, or a chemically induced space ship?"

"You mean that they might be in trouble, like that Catalina gang?" I flashed her a worried look; I knew we were going to have to do something, and something quick!

"You bet your rich butt and all your fortunes," she playfully laughed mischievously, as she continued monitoring her screen recorder.

"But how?" I flashed her a look.

Without taking her eyes off the several monitoring screens, Bib began listening and reminding Luke of things they knew. "Etroid is a known and wanted murderer. He is a wanted fugitive, an escapee from a mental institution. Etroid is a total eco-freak, an actual destroyer of forests and water sources instead of a protector of them. He is no tree hugger, but a tree mugger, a total fraud and a killer of those who really want nature to be preserved. He is a pathological liar and an extreme terrorist and once you join in this extremism you must be willing to die a dark green martyr for the Green death Thing. Etroid and his inner circle of followers are there to make sure you become a dead advertisement for their cause. Like the more deaths and freakish statistics they can generate, the more they are able to spread their cause, twisting facts to fit their agenda. Exactly what the media and all the manipulated rioters have done to further some hidden agenda they don't even realize."

More messages flashed onto the screen but she went on, "Without any remorse and you know this for sure, they will turn naive Midwest farmer kids into dead green heroes!"

This woman knew how to lay it out, and I could not argue with any of her facts. "You're telling me that he plans to kill his cadets?" I asked incredulously, while looking down the beach at Josh and Jethro.

"Just remember those on Catalina Island, twenty-six of them and possibly more." The various array of dash screens were constantly being updated with information as she went on. "But he did manage to harvest a few real radicals from the group, before the rest were sent to green hell in the sky. And don't forget your friend Joejo. I bet those who he did pick to live are here with him right now."

This hit me hard. I began to turn my mind from thought to action as she went on with her diatribe. It was as if she was reading my mind, trying to put brakes onto my reactions.

"Listen Luke, I work on the second level of terrorist preventions. The purpose of terrorism is to strike fear in a population. When communities are prepared to handle an event, the very fact of knowing what to do eliminates much of the terror that can cause even more serious problems than an attack itself. This group has all the earmarks of a terrorist group. They seem to want to do more damage than just stopping a triple moon rocket launch. We are here to prevent their agenda from terrorizing the nation."

Once again, that million visitor statistic came into my mind. The destruction of the triple moon launch and the possibilities of a million or more people being obliterated by these out-of-control freaks began to make my little moon launch story look like a pea floating in the ocean. "Ok, let's come up with a plan and get to Josh and Jethro before they make the wrong decision, we might start with them and move onto others."

"We can't move until I get the word from my boss Oscar. What do you have in mind?" Bib asked while still observing her monitors.

That was it, I was fed up with the 'my boss thing.' I got out of the Wiz Bang Spy Van, as I was calling it, and walked around to her side and opened the door.

"Luke, what are you doing?" she jerked back as she fired the question at me.

I knew all her monitors were on and the techs were listening, so I let it fly. "Screw your boss and your so-called agents and especially Mr. OK! I'm not waiting one more minute for some plastic coated pettifogger to make the politically correct decision."

Worried Bib began pressing buttons until several screens went black, and with some panic she tried to tell me to stop blabbing, but I went on. "Your worthless government Feds are sitting around watching your butt make its every move, while my young friends may be going to be tattooed and sacrificed in some eco protest?"

Turning red, shaking her head and putting her finger up to her near-perfect lips she continued telling me to shush. "The agency and the monitoring techs are listening to all this, you know." Bib was waving her hand as if trying to get me to stop while continuing to protest.

All kinds of beepers and buzzers started going off. The screens flashed and I knew I might be in some deep do-do! Too bad, I thought, it was time to do something, so I declared, loud and clear, "Good! Now hear this you do-nothing over-paid government mooches sitting on your fat asses trying to achieve points and retirement packages that could purchase a third world country, I'm headed out to the front lines. So shove it. And just so you know it, I'm borrowing this lovely agent to start working with me," I declared into the computer microphones.

I took hold of Bib's hand, sternly saying, "Come on sweetheart, you're under my personal care and protection, those feeb idiots on that screen are useless to us. You're going to be my girlfriend, and we are going for a stroll on the beach, like star struck lovers!"

Reluctantly, she glared at me with indecision, but suddenly her computer screen blinked a few times, while a coded sentence scrolled across the screen. She turned to me with a smile which had acceptance written all over it, taking my hand firmly.

I snorted, "What did they, or Mr. Oscar, finally have to say?"

"I'll tell you later. Let's get going now." Bib was smiling to herself as she slid off the seat, slipped into my arms and with her foot, closed the van door. I put on Joejo's cap, while Bib let her hair blow free. Together we strolled through the trees onto the long sandy beach.

It felt good having Bib next to me. She was playing her role perfectly, cuddled up to me just like lovers should, or was it her just doing her job? I was hoping that she was stepping outside her job as I pulled her along.

For the first time in many days, Bib actually came alive to Luke's direct approach and his arm around her. It had been a long time since such feelings had touched her. With all her family pressures, the intense schooling, acceptance into the FBI and all the training sessions, she had no time for any serious relationship.

But somehow this Mitchner character had broken through to her inner feelings and her heart was touched by something very different. It was nice to cuddle up to someone, she was wondering if she was falling in love with this tall, dark and handsome, out of the ordinary journalist? But this lovely thought was vanquished with the thought of what would Agency would have to say about such a matter.

However, just before stepping onto the beach, Luke turned to Bib and brought her close, saying, "I want to give you a little instruction here, making sure you get that feeling of a lover strolling on a beautiful tropical beach with her dream man."

Bib looked up at him wondering what he meant but then he bent down and began to kiss her. At first she was taken back and again thought, what would Oscar say? But then she found herself stepping out of FBI bounds, beginning to enjoy instruction from this unusual man. For the first time in what seemed to be an age, she gave back as much as he gave.

Hey, she thought, Brady Ivory Brewer, what the heck you doing? She laughed to herself saying that this was all part of the job...right?

### CHAPTER TWENTY – ON THE BEACH

We had only a short way to go. I figured it best to play the lover's role and walk close to Bib, at least close enough that the boys could not see my face. She accepted the part well by turning her face a little ahead of mine, as if I were whispering in her ear...and I was!

Hey I thought, what an opportunity. Everyone knows that opportunity doesn't always knock twice; I might die tomorrow. To make it real, I both nibbled and whispered some awesome stuff into this very lovely agent's ear, "Ok, you little turkey, you mentioned my fortunes back there. Did you listen to my phone calls to Dustin?"

"Oh, Mister Mitchner, of course. This was part of my responsibility, my boss made me do it. I heard everything since Flagstaff," she tried making herself sound so business-like, while mixing her answer with humorous innocence.

"So you know about me and all the stuff going on with me and Dustin," I whispered and bit her ear, as if I demanded an answer.

"Ow!" She yelped, "Hey, you rich butt, you're hurting me. Stop that!"

I held onto her ear with my teeth, pinched her butt and whispered again, "Tell me you turkey agent."

She put her finger up to her lips and spoke, oh so lightly, "Be careful, all the technicians on the East Coast are listening to us right now. This is being recorded and going into my records; and besides, my government-owned property, as you so say, still hurts."

I pulled her closer and squeezed her tighter, of course, just for the effect, "Your kidding me aren't you?"

"No kidding you. And ok, yes. I did listen to your calls and I also did the background checks on you too."

I let go of her ear and shook my head a little, growling, "You sneak. You lousy spy. No one is supposed to know any of this."

She had her arm around my waist and pinched my side hard enough for me to gasp, "Don't worry Mr. Luke Mitchner, your life is safe with me. I've been with you ever since they picked you up in Flagstaff and you're still alive, ain't you?"

"You got to be messing with my head. Ever since Flagstaff?" My mind started scanning back to that time, and BAM, I remembered! "That's right, you're the Albuquerque artist, let's see, Sandra Cooper, in the coffee shop, aren't you?"

"You got it honey, but let's discuss this later, please." At that we were close enough to Josh and Jethro to make ourselves known.

I took Bib's hand and stepped up to Josh and Jethro who were sitting on the rocks. With total surprise in my voice, I softly announced, "Wow, look who's here."

No doubt about it, both Josh and Jethro had been watching the rise of the full moon. They jumped up like ducks being flushed out of their hiding places, with startled voices crying out, "What the hell you doing here Mitchner?"

I stepped up with my finger to my lips, and asked them to keep it down. They immediately grew suspicious and looked at Bib, and then around as if they expected others to be there.

I interrupted their suspicion with "Joejo told me where you would be. He asked me to come and make sure you guys were ok."

"All right. How's Joejo?" Josh inquired with sparky enthusiasm, while looking at Bib, taking her excellent enhancements into view.

I didn't have time to create a soft landing for them, just kept it as simple as possible, "Well, it's not good. Joejo died a day or so back. He's gone."

Jethro jumped back in total rejection of this news, exclaiming, "Bullshit!" Then he stepped forward, nearly snarling at me, "What the crap thing you trying to pull on us now?" He waved his hand towards Josh including him in the tirade.

Josh in his shock, saw the seriousness on my face and reached out, touching my shoulder. He asked with a hopeful tone if I was kidding. "Please tell us you're just making this up to freak us out."

Bib broke in, "No, it's true, he died a few days ago at the Promise Hospital near Vicksburg where you left him. And I'll make this quick. It was a fatal dose of highly toxic poison, not a pleasant death."

They both turned pale as the blood drained from their faces. After a moment as Jethro was shaking his head, he mumbled, "Who could have done such a thing?"

"We don't know at this time. But I will tell you both, that you're under suspicion in his death," Bib added in a very serious tone.

This really threw them for a loop. Both of them put up their hands as if to defend themselves as they stepped back, "No way man, no way. That's outrageous and pure 100% bull, real bull!"

Jethro chimed in, with his defense against the bad news, "Mitchner, if bull was cement, you could easily build your own mountain range from America to Europe – and have plenty left over to sell to the Mafia!"

If these young cadets were under suspicion, then where did that leave me? Her statement threw me for a loop as well. I looked at Bib and didn't know if she was kidding, or just saying this to get their attention.

She reached up and took off Joejo's cap from off my head, and handed it to me. Apparently they had not noticed that I was wearing it. I waved it in front of them. "You know Etroid's orders about being caught without your caps. Do you think for one minute that Joejo would have given me his cap and told me where you were going to be, unless he cared about what happens to you guys?"

They glanced at each other and with some serious disparity mixed with suspicion Josh said, "This is too heavy man, just too heavy. You'd better not be messing with our heads."

It was Jethro who asked a question that I myself had not asked. He blurted out, "Can you prove that Joejo is really dead?"

"Just call the hospital and ask for yourself. Say you are his brother and you need to make funeral arrangements, they'll let you know for sure." Bib didn't miss a beat with her answer.

Then Josh nodded at Bib and asked me, "Who's she?"

Bib reached into her back pocket and took out her ID. "FBI, and we need your help."

No doubt, they were scared, both nodded their agreement to help.

I hurried up closer to the boys to point out the planet-like buttons around the cap and the golden one on its top. I began explaining how Etroid was able to know so much about them. "All the time he was able to listen and monitor your talks, pretending to have psychic communication power. Without you knowing it, he was listening in on your conversations."

A further shock came to the cadets. A shock of unbelief, as they pulled off their caps and looked at them, puzzled but amused at such nonsense.

I pulled off one of the chrome buttons and pried it open, while they both stepped up to see the crystal chip connections inside. They stood amazed, uttering, "Oh mamma of inventions, we've had it."

Josh immediately said, "Can he hear us right now?"

"No, we have temporarily broken the signal, but we can't do this for long or he'll get suspicious and come looking for you. Go back and play the space game; for now, just listen to what's happening and what might happen tomorrow. We're not sure, but things look like they're gonna be sky rockets tomorrow."

The four of us stood there in the breeze of the early night. The sun had gone down; the full moon was over the horizon and its light was dominating the darkening sky. We could hear music off in the distance. Now and then, bursts of laughter would rise up from groups who seemed to be enjoying their celebrations.

My thoughts went to final celebrations. I speculated if any of those hundreds of green eco-warriors knew that tomorrow might be their last day on earth? A few bad examples came to me: the terrorists who celebrated days and nights ahead, then killed themselves killing others on 911. Oh yes, the big Nazi gang, who one night was celebrating and the next they were bombed into destruction.

I guess that if I were one of the cadets, I'd be pretty well spaced out myself.

The beauty of the evening sky held my thoughts away from the possible terror of what might be coming tomorrow. But distant dark clouds soon floated into the calming scene like dark invaders, and the moment of peace was broken.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – DECISION TIME!

By now the sun had set, but the full moon was slowly rising over the horizon, casting new light onto the beach scene. Jethro stood quiet, as if frozen in contemplation; we waited as strange evening colors danced upon his worried features. Then quietly but with obvious apprehension, accepting all the news with a solemn face, he said, "What kind of help do you need?"

Bib went right to it, "Your so called General Etroid is a wanted fugitive. He's a total phony going around recruiting guys like yourselves to be a part of his galactic army, doing his dirty work. But in reality, he is an eco-terrorist off the freak-o-meter." She let this sink in and continued, "To begin with, he is wanted for mass murder on Catalina Island and for the disappearance of a therapist from the state hospital. We are sure he's carrying with him a good quantity of biochemical weapons. He plans to stop the moon colony launch tomorrow somehow, possibly using these chemicals."

"You mean we might have been carrying this bio stuff with us all this time?" Josh sputtered out.

I looked off to the northeast, watching the full moon rise higher into the sky, captured by this odd scene. The entire setting had become a strange clairvoyant moment, hearing Bib's annunciation about unknown bio-weapons and the moon colony. Wow, I thought, this was getting out of hand, you might say extremely outrageous. I found myself wondering at something unknown, and staring at a giant oval rising in the sky. Then the X and O came floating across the realization part of my mind, but it still did not register in my consciousness.

I snapped back to awareness when Bib turned to me. She said this was all in the report taken from the analysis of the X and O vials we sent with the chopper.

I was dumbfounded over the magnitude of what might actually be happening here. It would be like being in on the ground floor plans of the 9-11 attack! I turned to Josh and Jethro and spoke with deep concern in my voice, "Your friend and mine has died, and from what we have heard, Etroid has got something big planned for tomorrow. Do you know anything about what it might be?"

We waited until Josh spoke up, "Hey, let's get this straight. We did not have anything to do with Joejo's death. He was our buddy and a good guy. We all really liked him. As far as tomorrow, all I can say is that something is being planned." Pausing for a moment, Josh looked over at Jethro for affirmation, whose face was lit with agreement by the glow of the full moon.

Jethro joined in, "There is going to be a celebration and an initiation into the Galactic Force tonight. Everyone is being assigned to a particular task and ordered to get ready for a major event, one that will be remembered over and above the last two oil wars and 9-11."

"Do you have any details, or know anything that might help us understand what this event might be?" Bib inquired.

Jethro answered up, "I know that there are going to be two groups. One group will be assigned to go to one of the tents, and the other into the second one."

"What is going on in the tents?" I asked.

"Don't know. But one is called X and the other is called O, and everyone is divided into either an X or an O."

Immediately I flashed back onto the two vials: one marked with an X, while the metal vial was an O. I saw Bib's recognition and we both came to the same conclusion: this event had something to do with those vials and the moon launch.

"A full moon and X out," I stated. I didn't know if this made any sense, but for some reason that full moon set off the idea. The X might represent the end to the moon launch operation!

Bib looked at me and nodded that this made sense. The O was for the moon and the launch, while the attack using the chemicals would be the big X that would put a stop to the entire launch and the American space efforts.

"Ok Josh and Jethro, we don't have much time to talk. Etroid is probably wondering why your caps went off-line. I have temporarily blocked the transmission, but you can just tell him you went for a swim and left the caps on the beach."

While this latest news sank in, Bib went on, "We need you boys to go back and continue with your work. When Etroid asks you, and he will, what your decision is, you tell him that you are onboard. And you want to be more than cadets in training. You want to go all the way and partake in the big events, whatever they might be."

"No matter what, you got to be cool, without any hesitancy. And no matter what, you never had this conversation or meeting with us," I gave them my most serious instructions.

Bib went on, "Keep your caps on, or if need be, remove one of the buttons and hold onto it. We will monitor your movements and your conversations, but remember that Etroid will also be able to hear you, so be careful what you say."

"What if by tomorrow we are asked to get involved in the big event, whatever it might be? Are we going to be held accountable for this?" Josh asked in all seriousness.

"No, we won't let it go that far. We have agents inside his movement and we should be able to figure out his plan before it gets off the ground."

For some reason this statement made my mind start digging around for something, but I could not figure out what. I knew one thing: we had to alert Gunther and Abel to the danger. Turning to Josh and Jethro, I asked them to get with Gunther and Abel and inform them what is going on. They might be caught right in the middle of the event, unless they had a chance to make the right choice. A choice is what it comes down to.

Finally, Bib quietly suggested that the boys get back to their posts or groups and to make sure to observe, to stay in touch and get the news to Gunther and Able. They were somewhat hesitant about putting the cadet caps on, but did so. With reassurances from us, they made their way back up the beach and disappeared into the trees, heading towards the noise of the night's celebrations.

We watched Josh and Jethro head over to the south side of the peninsula, knowing that their lives were in danger, since we had informed them. The full moon was bright upon our way, as we went walking back to the van, consciously still holding hands.

The radio was alive all night with various agent information, as well as pieces of data being transmitted to every point on the globe. I was sitting right in the middle of it, and I thought back to the stormy blizzard and getting a ride in the green bus. This was something I had not expected. I thought of what a tremendous story, or maybe even a book, it was going to make — if I lived to tell the tale!

Finally I remembered to ask Bib about the coded message from her team leader. "Ah, well, humm," she tried to excuse it as forgetfulness.

"Sorry, Miss Secret Agent, call it up on your screen. It's still there waiting in memory." I demanded in a playful manner, threatening to whisper to her again, leaning closer to her ear.

"Ok, get back. It was simple enough. It said for me to do whatever it took to keep you out of trouble, and from contacting your friend Dustin, maybe interfering with the case."

"That's it, that's all?" I expostulated in disappointment.

She saw my look and sneakily added, "Well, he did emphasize 'whatever it took' and 'keep him occupied.'"

"So part of your job is to keep me out of trouble?"

She smiled and nodded, "Sure thing. Ain't I doing a great job so far?"

"Oh, really now," I pulled her over to my side and was just about to get into trouble, to begin being occupied, when my dang cell phone went off. I pulled it out of my pocket, and saw it was from Dustin. Bib grabbed it away while she leaned over and began kissing me, completely occupying me. I mean completely.

However, amidst her keeping me occupied, we managed to listen to the radio intercepts of the night's celebration. There on the south point of the park under the full moon, the evening had filled with the ceremonies of many new cadets, officially authorized into the Galactic Force.

We decided to take a walk and do some listening, or some real spying. Before we left, Bib went into one of the van's on-board safes and retrieved a box, full of what looked like small buttons. "And what may I ask are those?"

As she picked out about 10, handing over at least five to me, she said, "Be careful with them, these are listening bugs, transmitters of sound and voice." She closed the safe door, and added while holding one up to her eye, "The Agency calls these our Edge Makers. They often give us the edge, especially when we overhear the bad guys giving away their secrets."

"Really, and we are going to do what with them?" I inquired while picking one up between my finger and thumb.

"We are going to take a walk around and find some points of interest where we might set them into place."

She pressed one into my forehead and laughed and went on. "This will allow us to listen in on possible exchanges, or news that will help us. Maybe save some lives tomorrow, who knows?"

I smiled and said, "Sure. But we better play the lover's role as we walk about, we don't want anyone getting suspicious of two wandering strangers."

"I don't mind. That might allow us to hide in the shadows a little. But Luke, you need to keep your hands to yourself, I don't think it's necessary to play the role too seriously." She pulled my ear and stepped around me.

"Ah shucks, sweetheart, you're not being a very good agent this night. It is you who better keep your hands off my outrageously handsome body."

Bib let out a whoop-de-doo and was already moving up the beach when I caught up to her. She took my hand and we weaved our way through the trees and around camp sites until we found our way to the green bus.

We worked like a well practiced team. In a stealth-like operation, Bib set one bug through the front driver's window and stuck it to the ceiling behind a poster. I reached into a back window that was half down and attached one bug to the back of a laptop computer that lay open on a bunk. We dispersed the rest of them onto the inside of various tent flaps, and one on the main stage. We blended well when we played the couples role. I could not afford to have Etroid see me, so we kept to the shadows.

We scanned the area and took account of the goings-on, surprised that the eco freaks were most interested in free human love. This entire event seemed like an old time hippie fest, just a bit more sophisticated, with uniforms and all.

We finally called it a night and stayed occupied!

### CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – THE DAY OF HELL BEGINS!

Morning shown it's early light over the ocean. It was time for us to get into those tents. We simply walked through the park coming up to the scene along the south point. A breeze spun the blades of a portable windmill, creating an eerie hum onto the two large green tents standing on the beach. Hundreds of bicycles, a scattering of electric putt-putt's and off to one side of the far tent was the green bus neatly tucked into the woods. Well-dressed female cadets were serving breakfast, while others were busily setting up benches around a platform stage between the two tents.

The ceremonies of the night before had produced incredible and enthusiastic speeches by Etroid and several of his top officers. Both Bib and I had to admit that the ceremony was a well conducted and well-orchestrated presentation. Etroid's agenda was not hidden in mystical terminology; he bluntly and openly announced in eloquent terms that this present human population has so destroyed the earth with its selfish and greedy policies — it no longer deserves to live. Change was not in the agenda, but punishment was being sent to all the earth, with orders to the Intergalactic Force to prevent the pollution of any other parts of the earth or the solar system. This was the work being prepared, thus the X-O Factor.

Etroid was the chosen general to carry out the international assignment. We determined that the green thing was only the beginning, but it was now extreme green–a well built facade hiding the real agenda.

We had listened to every word and it was clear that this organization was nothing less than an eco terrorist group, hell bent on self-exaltation and destruction of the human race.

There was a partial truth in this matter, to admit it, some of his reasoning was most acceptable to me, especially the re-training of the unproductive politicians of consumption and self-indulgence.

His speech targeted every oil producing nation, not one industrial or atomic powered industry escaped his denunciations. It included the over-throw of all anti-environmental governments and organizations. His lengthy diatribes openly attacked most every energy company, their sources and any consuming advancement. All forms of transportation that had anything to do with fuel, chemicals or fossil power were to be done away with. His themes carried a stern tone of Hitlerian view and definitely proclaimed the obliteration of all chemicals, all dams, all cities and all power supplies. Everyone was to become strict vegetarians, while all higher level leadership had to be vegans. This new green agenda proposed to do away with all cattle, dairy cows and meat producing omnivores.

I got a little panicky with all this, and really wanted to take Bib out on a wild night to get two sixty-four ounce steaks grilled rare on honey mesquite out of Texas. This thought alone turned me against this insane agenda. The humor was that I remembered Etroid scarfing down a few McDonald's giant burgers, and was desperate for the green bus, fueled by gas, to hurry and get him to this so called Save the World rally.

In all that we had listened to, the interesting thing was the tremendous enthusiastic acceptance by the hundreds of followers, representing every environmental group known to the world. I now understood why so much green and so many bicycles. However, this understanding came with some humor, for every one of those bikes were machines, made in factories, run with power generated by fuel; I smiled, unless they were made of vegetables.

The acceptance by the followers became evident with the swearing-in of the cadets in training. After each new cadet lifted up both fists into the air, swearing an oath of commitment unto death in the fulfillment of this interstellar work, each cadet received a laser tattoo of a tiny green planet with a sword stuck through it on their breastbones.

Josh, Jethro, Gunther and Abel had been tattooed and were now full-fledged authorized members of the Galactic Force. This meant that they could wear the green uniform and were allowed to participate in the Force's missions of earthly cleansing. This oath also meant full obedience to all commands and the giving over of wealth, as well as future decisions. All decisions were to be authorized by the higher officials. If they did not meet the Force's agenda, they would not be allowed. Refusal to follow out a mission would be handled with severe punishments, including death to person and family.

I arranged Joejo's green cap low on my brow, while Bib adjusted her communication devices hidden under her green overalls. Arm in arm we casually walked into the crowd of followers. We fit in well and took a place in the line for breakfast, then found a place nearest the tents to eat while observing.

Josh spotted us and came over with a bowl of organic cereal smothered in fortified banana slices and sat down with us. Between mouthfuls of cereal he would touch his chest where his new tattoo lay fixed into his skin. He looked around and whispered, "Hi, and glad you're here. Wow is all I can say. Please help us get out of this mess."

"Tell us what you've learned," Bib insisted.

"Are our words being transmitted?" Josh mumbled under his breath.

"No. I'm carrying a frequency jammer, but I can only use it for a few minutes now and then, or they can trace it back to me," Bib answered, slyly sipping her green tea.

I interrupted, "Did you get hold of Gunther and Abel and tell them what was going on?"

"Yeah, they are freaked and can't believe all this, especially about Joejo. It's too much to believe, what we told them. But they said they would watch out and stay alert for anything unusual."

"That's good, we'll deal with them as we go along. Now, what did you learn?" Bib urged him on.

"The two tents are marked X and O, but so far we have no idea what is to happen in them. Etroid is setting up his telescope on the platform, but that does not make any sense to us, because the launch site is only a few miles away. Why would anyone need a telescope?"

"It's obvious. It's not a telescope." I announced.

"I wonder if that telescope might be a rocket launcher instead," Bib interjected.

"I saw it in the crate and it really did seem like a telescope. It might have been a rocket launcher disguised, but I don't think so."

A speaker system crackled alive with a voice announcing a certain group of cadets to report to their assigned areas. I looked over at the stage area with the telescope standing amidst a few upright boxes, "It can't be a missile. A missile would be too obvious. It would never reach the site, not with all the security in the area."

"Ok. So far we got two tents, each marked with an X and an O. We know that the two vials were marked with an X and an O. Each vial contained something different. One was a very powerful hallucinogenic, while the other contained a biological component still not understood by our technicians. But we do know that it would only take a few drops from each vial to send everyone in this park to the moon without a rocket," Bib began her analysis.

"I still don't think Etroid is so dumb as to set up a missile launcher in front of the entire world to see. Surely that would be the end of his cult," I suggested.

"True, but there must be a reason for two separate tents and two types of toxins," Bib trailed off in her ponderings.

"I got to go, we are supposed to already be in our tents," Josh said as he got up.

"What tent are you in?" Bib asked.

"Both me and Jethro are assigned to X, while Gunther and Abel are in O."

Bib dug into her pocket and handed over two listening bugs. "Here, pin these under your collars for now. You can send messages just by talking; we got the means to hear. Go for it, but be ready to talk when you see or learn anything, we'll pick your voice up through your transmitter. And good luck. Get these other three to the boys, they might save their lives."

I added, "Whatever you do, do not eat or drink anything after this, and tell the same to the others. This could be another mass suicide covered up as some kind of eco-protest."

In a doubtful tone, he said, "Sure thing," and Josh went off looking for the others.

Bib leaned against me and asked, "Do you think this could just be a mass suicide, set up to look like a protest by Etroid?"

"There is something bugging me in the back of my brain, but I don't know what it is. I am wondering about the two chemicals, what would happen if they were mixed together and how would they do that?"

"Now that is an interesting question. How would they...mix them together without causing themselves harm? You wander around here, take a look while I go make a call."

Bib headed for the van while I indifferently went towards the platform where the telescope, along with other instruments, were being guarded.

There had to be no less than two hundred over-enthused cadets working, setting up tables and chairs, maybe to observe the launch from. Everyone was wearing simple green uniforms, ready for a photo shoot. I guessed that these were full-fledged cadets now ranked into the Force. A few others were still wearing regular clothes like myself, but with the standard green caps.

This was a well ordered activity going on, as if everyone knew exactly what to do. It took unity and organization; there had to be big bucks behind all this from what I could see. I made my way over to the X tent entrance and tried to look nonchalant while trying to get a look inside. When I had to step aside for a cadet struggling with a table, I saw my opportunity and grabbed one end of the table and began carrying it. "Thanks, that makes it much easier," he gave me a grin.

We got into the tent and set the table up alongside three others. There were some chairs set along the edges of the tables with boxes being set in the center of the table. These boxes looked familiar to me, but I could not remember how.

Then I recalled that they were the boxes, or looked like the ones, inside Etroid's crate. What was in them? Oh yes, strange flat triangle shaped pieces of plastic about an inch thick, with clips on one side. But so what?

Just then a hand came down firm on my shoulder and spun me around. There stood Etroid. Cool as a winter pond he asked, "So you found us?"

I was taken aback. Etroid stood there looking like a real general. Clean shaven, well groomed, and wearing an immaculate green uniform, decorated with several of the planet-shaped emblems. I replied casually, "Wow, you're looking spiffy." He shot me a dirty look, about to say something, when I continued, "Sure thing. Joejo told me where you were going to hold your rally, so I found my way."

I was staring into his silver-dollar eyes, locked back onto my optic nerve like a mad dog yanking on a piece of meat. I saw red flares crossing the depths of his emotions and I remained as innocent in their blazing flashes as I could.

I knew that Bib was able to hear our conversation, so I casually waved my hand around the tent and continued, "So these are your followers. It looks real nice. Maybe you'd consider allowing me to join your Force."

Etroid's lips arched into what appeared as a headstone, with death to me inscribed thereupon. "That might be a little difficult, you know, having a nosey overzealous reporter tagging along and looking into places where he shouldn't, causing trouble for our missions."

"An overzealous journalist like me could maybe work for your good. You might need some good publicity. Outside your government media friends, I'm sure that I would be the perfect cadet for exciting new headline."

I felt a deep jagged hatred tumbling around in this man, looking for a means to pierce me. There was no fooling him. With excellent control, as usual, he began his cut, "Nothing of the sort. We are not looking for any narrow-minded, one-sided, out-of-touch ex-surf-bum coverage. Besides, we'll earn our own publicity, it's the best you can get."

For a moment he looked towards the space launch a mile down the coast, and went on. "No. Don't think so. We have a full array of well known reporters with all the alphabet commentators. Even PBS honchos are working with us, why would we even consider a low-life like you?"

I didn't even have the chance to retort to his cutting words before he waved over a tall, well-built cadet. With a sharp swish of words, commanded him, "Remove this man from the area now!"

As the guard took me by the arm, I looked at Etroid and said, "By the way, Joejo sends his get well regards," I hesitated just for a moment and added, "Oh, by the way, he had an exclusive conversation with that dreaded organization, the FBI...all about you!" and with this I saluted him with the green studded cap. Etroid glared at me so intently I thought for sure I was being melted down into scrap; but then he smiled a smile, that told me he knew different.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – DISASTER DRAWS NIGH!

Back at the van control center, I found Bib talking excitedly to someone on the phone. I guessed it was her mysterious commander-boss-handler Mr. OK and she gestured for me to wait a moment and then clicked off. "You won't believe this. It's not just big time, it's major huge. We got to move fast."

"Fine. Tell me the major huge thing first."

"Ok. But you can't tell anyone, and I mean anyone. This is really bad stuff. It could cost this country its future space program, and a lot more."

"Not again. So far you've got me so tied up with promises of never telling a word, I might as well go home, cut off my tongue, and become a monk."

"Listen and stop being funny. The two vials, X and O, if mixed together in any form become one of the most powerful bio-toxins known to science at this time. In fact we cannot figure out where this guy could have possibly come up with this stuff, he must really have some connections." Bib ran her fingers through her light brown hair as if trying to pull out an answer to what Etroid's plan was.

I blurted out in frustration, "Easy. Young agent, try thinking China."

"I know, I know, Oscar and the bio techs said the same thing, but so far we have no proof."

"I was in the tent; I recognized the boxes that were in the crate in the bus. I remembered that there were several boxes of triangle shaped devices about an inch thick with some slots or brackets on one side. And the box seemed to have some Chinese writing on it."

"Tell me more. What did they seem to be, and why would they be in the tent?"

"It was as if everyone was getting ready for something and setting something up."

"Think, Mitchner. What exactly do these things look like?" she grabbed my arm trying to shake something out of my subconscious.

"Let me get a tech on the phone; you tell him what you saw." With this she punched in a number, identified herself, gave a short explanation and handed over the phone to me.

"Hello, this is Aaron. Don't waste time, just tell me everything you saw, or what you might have seen," the stern direct voice commanded.

"Sure thing. In the X tent I saw some smaller boxes that were once in Etroid's crate in the bus. There were some odd plastic triangle shaped pieces about one inch in thickness, a foot or maybe sixteen inches long and about that same width once unfolded."

Without hesitation the tech asked, "How many of them were there?"

"I'm guessing about 10 per box and there were four boxes."

"Ok, so we are saying about forty. And if I remember from your first report, you were guessing about forty vials of X and maybe the same of the O. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's a good guess."

"You're saying these things were blue and triangle-shaped about an inch thick, with some type of hooks or brackets on one side," the tech was speaking a little faster now.

"Yes, and there were no markings or numbers on them, that I could see."

"Did the numbers on the box, along with the Chinese symbols, coordinate with anything else you saw?"

I thought for a moment, "No, nothing that I can piece together at this second."

The agent calmly asked, "Do you think these triangle things could resemble stealth flying wings?"

Suddenly a flash streaked into my mind. Yes, if they were unfolded, these devices would be shaped like that. In fact, they could have been small models. Then another thought fit itself into the first idea. I imagined how the long cylinder vials could easily be snapped onto the triangle winged devices. Then I was awakened out of my revelation by Aaron asking me, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think I am," I replied.

Bib was listening on her laptop. She took the phone from me, "Looks like those devices are the new miniature stealth spy drones, with alterations that just might make it possible for the vials to be flown over the launch site and kill off everything to do with the moon colony."

"I think you're onto something. But why Chinese? And why two tents?" I interjected into the laptop speaker.

Aaron let out a soft whistle and clarified it all. "Bib, is it cleared for me to reveal what I am thinking?"

"Yes, and if it ain't, we don't have time to get it. Just tell me what you're thinking."

"Ok, X and O are two separate compounds, extremely dangerous."

Aaron went on saying that this was a partial speculation on his part, "But if they come into contact with one another, in any way, shape, or form, they become a deadly fumigant gas. I mean really deadly — an extreme killing machine to all that could breathe, or touch, or be touched by it."

He paused, we waited, and he went on, "That is why they must use two different tents. They cannot take a chance to allow anything to bring those compounds together ahead of time. Everyone in the area would die a miserable death...including good old Etroid!"

"Then what are the drones for?" Bib interjected her anxious question, but I knew that she knew. It was no longer a mystery to us.

Aaron hesitated before he answered, "It's brilliant. They would be the perfect delivery system. They're too small for radar to catch them. They are very capable of delivering the two compounds. It might be that one tent will send out so many vials of X, while the other tent will send out the other flyers loaded with O. Somehow these flyers will pass over the launch site and either drop the vials, or they are set to be punctured so the toxins will pass into the air. Yes, that is where they will most likely mix, in the air."

I was stunned into silence, while my thoughts drifted back to the full moon, and now the X. But Bib, as a trained agent, began to ask questions, "Aaron, what will the results be, of this mixture falling onto the area? Most likely coming in contact with the rockets, the technicians, all the spectators and of course the moon colonists."

"Taking in the on-shore wind factor, which could make a difference, I would say that the surrounding area for miles would become contaminated for several years. Anyone or anything that gets the stuff onto their skin or in their eyes will rapidly meet a terrible death."

Immediately I thought of the terrible death that Joejo had experienced, and he only got a tiny dab. Then my mind went to those million innocent on-lookers.

Bib carefully analyzed the information, then with a shake of her head, and in a low voice suggested, "Chinese – that means sabotage, and an end to our colony on the moon. It also gives them plenty of time to get their colony up first."

"I think you got something there Bib," Aaron agreed.

"What the hell can we do?" I frantically shouted.

"These drone flyers are radio controlled. There must be a control center or some type of equipment to guide and activate them." Aaron began offering suggestions on what to look for.

Bib shot me a look, asking, "Did you see anything that might indicate such a control center?"

My mind went back to the tents. Two tents, I thought, with one platform in the front center. And Etroid's telescope with his instruments set up on the platform. I tried to remember if there were any trucks, vans or campers with satellite dishes parked there, but could not recall any.

"What is the launch schedule for now?" I asked and looked around nervously, trying to see the huge rockets standing and waiting for the big moment.

"Still twelve noon as it goes," Aaron replied.

"We have about a half hour before the colonists start loading up. Maybe, just maybe, we can interrupt their plan," Bib suggested.

Bib's laptop speaker came alive and another voice spoke, "Bib, just so you know: all communications are being jammed in the target area. We have lost contact with all of our own, and they cannot act without the go from us."

There were a few short blank spaces in the conversation but the voice repeated the message again, then scrolled the basic message onto the screen and asked, "Do you copy this?"

"Yes, we copy. But who and how?"

"Don't know. This group is very sophisticated, creating a real challenge for our techs. And just letting you know that things are getting tense here: we think they are onto us."

Bib asked, "Is there any type of antidote for these compounds?"

"Not really. It's just that if they come together, there's not going to be any moon colony launch for many years to come."

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Is there anything that can pollute or disrupt or neutralize the toxins ahead of time?" Bib's frustration was beginning to show in this exchange.

"For now, without knowing all the X-O factors, just lots of water."

"You mean like in the ocean, or just coming in contact with water," Bib asked.

"If we could put that stuff into the ocean that would work great, but even if the stuff was sprayed with water, maybe it could be neutralized, with its potency being counteracted," Aaron speculated.

Bib was nodding now, "Ok, get hold of the bio tech team on this. And get the Coast Guard fire boats onto the scene to start blasting the tents with everything they got. Call in the choppers on assignment for the launch, and have them drop whatever waters or liquids they can onto the area. If there are any water tankers available, have them drop as many loads onto the tent area as they can. And do it now." Bib was almost yelling into the phone, being directly on the scene and knowing the possible disaster that lay at hand.

"Bib, are you sure about this?" her Commanders voice, Oscar Kennedy interjected itself on the speaker.

"Listen Sir, we got no choice other than taking the chance. In the meantime I'm going to try to find and shut down communications to those flyers."

"Sounds good. I'm online with the team right now, and everyone agrees: it's too risky to wait." Her boss and controller acknowledged Bib's decision to move on it, already sending out orders and requests.

"Make sure you send in the bio-hazard teams as soon as the water begins to rain down," Bib added. I realized that Bib was now stepping way out on a limb, assuming the water was the only way of preventing Etroid's attack.

With this Bib and I were out and running towards the target area. "What about the boys? Can we get them out of there?" I gasped out my question as we ran along the park road.

"To tell you the truth Mitchner, if anyone gets out of this alive, they can consider they've found favor with the angels."

We stopped to catch our breath, "You mean that goes for us too?" I questioned Bib while considering my own sanity, weighing my reasons for even taking one more step.

"Hey, you wanted adventure, you got it, it just might cost you your life and your fortunes," with this she laughed and jogged on ahead, without me. I watched her move further through the trees. Oh well, I thought, better die for a good cause than die for nothing. I joined insanity and caught up with her.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – FRANTIC CHOICES!

As we came to the south point area, Bib directed me, "Go and wander into the crowd," that was gathering around the platform, "try to locate Josh and the others and get them back to the van. If things go wrong, just lock yourselves into the van and you'll be safe, it's a total environmental safe-lab and nothing can get in, unless you let it in." With these instructions she headed off towards the bus and vehicles parked around the two tents.

As I entered into the crowd, I felt as though I was stepping into a thick cloud of heavy seriousness, with everyone radiating a somber mood. There was some space-type theme music playing from speakers. Without bringing attention to myself, I moved in and among the hundreds of green uniforms. Where could those guys be? I wondered, scanning the groups of people that were standing, facing the central platform.

I remembered Josh telling me that he was an X, meaning he was privileged to be in tent X. Working my way around the side of the tent, seeing that the entrance was guarded by two uniformed officials, I turned back. The morning breakfast tables were set along the back of the tents. The tables were set with chests of ice, each containing assorted beverages. People came and took freely and went their way. I waited, pretended to drop something, then went down and crawled under the table furthest from the main crowd.

Taking out my pocket knife I carefully slit the tent seam along the bottom, so no one would notice. By lying along the tents edge I could lift up the cut and look into the tent with the least chance of anyone seeing me. There was no worry; half way across, there was a table inside running nearly the length of the tent with maybe ten cadets sitting with their backs to me. I saw that the far side of the tent was wide open to the water of the cape facing the distant launch site. Everyone was talking quietly and working on the triangle drones, being prepared for launch. Each one was having tiny batteries inserted and further adjustments were being done with a testing meter.

A very official looking Chinese woman would take each drone and attach it to a box which was hooked up to a cable next to her computer. She then proceeded to assign the drone special coding. Then the flyers were carefully placed into a multi leveled rack awaiting their individual cargo and set for launch. There was something familiar about this woman, I was sure I had seen her before.

There was a cluster of thick cables running across the floor, dividing off in all directions with several running out the door. The computer had to be plugged into one while the cable to the rack holding the drones ran back towards a wall of stacked boxes. From where I lay it looked like the cables were attached to a row of high powered batteries behind the crates. You could hear the windmill spinning just outside the tent that must have been charging the batteries.

Scanning the tent area for a hint on how something might be done, I saw the tent flaps parted and in walked Etroid skirted by his galactic guards. He was dressed in full glory, wearing his general's uniform, a suit made of woven aluminum threads and blue illustrative lighting which set off his silver eyes like full moons.

There came a whispering awe from the cadets who stood as he moved towards the asian woman at the computer. There he leaned on her shoulder and began studying the computer screen. "Miz Wrong is everything ready to go?" Etroid asked. She pointed at the screen while exchanging some words, but I could not hear what was spoken. Why did her name ring a bell in my mind...ring, ring, Wrong?

Then I flashed back to that day in Albuquerque and the woman that I saw walking and talking with Mr. Starman himself. Etroid looked at his watch and told his guards something. They stepped outside and held the flaps open. Surprise, there was Josh and Jethro, carrying in the box from the bus; Etroid motioned to them where to set it. "Be gentle and very careful with that," he instructed them and told them to step back out of the way for now. They both came near the back of the tent where I was lying and watching from behind a row of crates.

I took out my smaller note pad and wrote, "Death awaits. Get out boys. Go to northwest side of island, hide in large white van. No time, move at the coming diversion, only a few minutes left. Listen to live, or question to die. Just trust me, remember the pie!" and I signed it, "Mitchner."

I let my hand slide to Josh's foot, slowly moving the note near to him, and began tapping the side of his boot with my finger. I was praying he did not jump or freak out when he looked down seeing a hand disappearing. I watched him bend down, where he saw me through the cut in the side of the tent, then picked up the note. I slowly got out from under the table, going around the outside of the tent to join in with the crowds.

Everyone was in high spirits, clustered tight at the edge of the platform outside. The two main guards were walking back and forth along its edge, holding two high-powered shock weapons while Etroid took his place at the microphone next to the telescope. I was sure it wasn't a missile launcher. I wondered, was it just being used as a diversion? My eyes scanned the crowds looking for Bib, nearly out of ideas on what to do. Then I saw the cables coming up onto the platform, running up to the telescope. Ok I deduced, there is power from the windmill to the batteries to the computers and then splitting off to the drone rack and attached to the telescope.

Just then Bib came walking up as a stern looking cadet, all trim and neat. Actually she fit into this crowd rather well. I reached up and tugged on the cadet cap she was wearing, "Where did you get that, boss?" I asked.

"From out of the green bus, some dear young fellow felt, and she emphasized FELT, it necessary to hand it over, as he fell off to sudden sleep." She was rubbing her right hand, all the while smiling, as her eyes searched the scene and her words were kept low.

"What did you find, anything we can use? Time is short; let's fit the puzzle pieces together and make it happen."

Bibs words were growing anxious; I could feel her nervousness increase, as she took my arm and we stepped off to the side.

"I got a look into tent X. I'm assuming it's the same in tent O. They were preparing the flyers for flight, aimed directly to the launch site."

She interrupted, "Were they armed with the vials? Could you see if they were?"

"No, the vials were carried in, I think, in the crate by Josh and Jethro." I went on telling her what I had seen and done; that Josh and the boys were on their own, and they were to head for the van camper as soon as the diversion started.

Her wonderful face looked up at me and asked, "What diversion?"

"Don't mess with me Lady Agent, The one you set up with the water tankers and fire boats through your boss man Mr. OK."

I saw her grit her teeth and with serious irritation replied, "I sent the message through, but I don't know if they will act on it. It might be too risky, unless they have more time to examine the X and O chemical factor."

"What the hell you talking about? Don't they have enough proof, just in those two vials?"

"Not according to the big boss. He has doubts about all this, and is consulting with higher-ups who are themselves members of the green thing."

"You've got to be kidding me," I fumed out my words. Something is drastically wrong. We do not have hours to wait and I'm guessing that somewhere in that chain of authority is someone who is sympathetic to these green warriors. Shaking my head, I looked at my watch. We had about 20 minutes before scheduled load-up time.

Thousands of spectators, along with every colonist, with their families and government officials would be in the open, soon saying their farewell speeches and bowing for the media. And here we were, standing with our thumbs, well, up our noses!

"Look Bib, I have come this far. The only reason I'm here now is for those innocent boys. And to tell you the truth — well, for you too, because you know how to occupy my time."

Just then my cell let out a squeek tone and I quickly answered it, "Hello!" The connection was terrible but I could hear someone talking and I caught every other word. "Listen to me, this is a friend of Bib, my name is Alex...un... Agent out of the Phoenix FBI office, she knows me. Please tell her I...getting hold of her but it seems...her communication...is blocked. Let her know that...OK and his buddies do not have her best interest...mind. In fact she is...to take the fall for the catastrophe...soon to take place there at the..."

The call went dead and I looked over at Bib and asked, "Do you know an Agent out of the Phoenix office named Alex Unn or maybe Dun?"

Bib nodded her head, "Yes, he is a good friend, has helped me a lot and knows my family, why?"

"Because that was him on the phone saying that you were being set up by Mr. OK to take the fall on this disaster!"

"That's outrageous. Who could allow this terrorist attack to succeed, and why?"

"Oh Brady Ivory Brewer, you're so naive. This entire green thing reaches all the way to the President and maybe, just maybe, there is much to be gained by allowing this moon launch and a million people to be put to death!"

"No way, I cannot accept that!"

"How well do you know this Alex guy, would he put his career on the line to try and warn you?"

She was doing some thinking now. "Maybe," She took her eyes off the crowd, looked up at me and with those bright green eyes penetrating me like a laser, she said, "This is probably one of your tricks to get the story out there first. After all, you've been bugging me the entire trip for the story, weren't you?"

I was taken back by her assumption and just said, "Well now, you're quite the story as far as I can read. Maybe there will be more chapters to this than just spaced out eco-freaks."

Bib saw the pained look on my face and then squeezed my arm and with that look of innocence apologized, "Sorry Luke, it must be a prank call from Etroid's gang and this story thing sounds like something I'd like to read sitting around a campfire in the mountains. But in the meantime, let's turn the page. What ideas have you got cooking up in that writer's imagination of yours?"

"Stay here, I'm going to make a call and use some of my own connections, just in case this Alex call was real and your stupid company refuses to get off the pot," I let her go and stepped back into the trees.

I took out my last throw-away cell phone and dialed Dustin. Ring, ding and a dong, just like Dustin to waste precious moments on stupid cell tones rings, then Dustin's voice came through loud and clear. "This better be you, if it ain't, you better find him..."

"Shut up and listen. Do not interrupt, we only got a few more minutes before you might lose your best client ever. Click on your record button," I half yelled and half whispered into the phone, hoping that we would not be cut off.

"Ok Ok, blast off, we're all listening!"

"The FBI has this information but won't do anything until they get an Ok from someone higher up. So you got to act on this for the sake of all that might be at stake. We just got a call from an FBI Agent named Alex Unn or something like that. He said that Bib and I were being set up to take the fall if anything went wrong. The only thing we can do now is to have those drones pounded with water and have the water tankers start dropping water onto the two main tents and try to jam up the drones radio signals. For Etroid and his galactic army is just about ready to release around forty radio-guided drones, loaded with the X and O chemicals, which when combined will become deadly and active enough to contaminate the entire Cape Canaveral area for years to come."

I heard Dustin let out a breath as if in unbelief as he interrupted me, "How do you know all this stuff Mitchner?" He paused for a second and added sarcastically, "You're always coming up with some last minute disaster call. Now, again?"

I went on, "Stop or I'm dead, this is no bullshit. Get on the phone to your highest connections, get them to contact the FBI or Security Forces in or nearest to Cape Canaveral and immediately send everything that can carry water and drop, spray and flood the two large tents on the south tip of Jetty Park, just north of the launch site. We are going to try and stop these launches somehow, but if we don't, they think that a good dose of water can neutralize the compounds and prevent them from activating. For now, that is the only chance we got!"

"Did you say water or bombs?" Dustin interrupted my lengthy narrative.

"Please, just listen and let the recording speak for itself. Water, water and more water! I'm going to try to stop this slaughter before it happens, but if any chemicals do make it to the launch site, soak the people, the launch vehicles, the rockets and the entire area with a flood of rain, dish water or sewage, but get it done!"

"You got to be out of your mind!"

"No, just get ahold of the National Security team in Florida. Let them listen to this recording and tell them, that if they fail to do this, I will release every bit of information to every news outlet in the world."

I had to take a breath and slow down a little. "I'll tell the world that they were too chicken shit and politically brainwashed to do their jobs. I guarantee that will get their attention. This mess reaches all the way to the top!"

"It might get their attention, but it will also get us arrested and sent away, maybe to their moon colony," Dustin fired back.

"Dustin, you know me, this is no joke. Either get with it or forget me as a friend, no less a partner. This is serious — my life is on the line."

"No worries Luke. The National Security Agencies have had this line tapped ever since Flagstaff; they already got the message."

I laughed and announced, "God bless every phone tap that ever existed! If you big shot agencies are listening," there was no response, "alert the bio teams to move in and swarm all over those two tents. But if any of the drone fliers do make it out, intercept them with your radio frequencies and fly them out to sea. If you love your jobs and your special agent Bib, get off your butts and do something before this X-O-something does everything to you. Just in case things do go wrong, you'll want to know: X is to kill, and O is for the moon launch or to X-Out!"

With this I said my goodbyes, and told Dustin, "If I do not make it, this is my last will and testament. I Luke A. Mitchner hereby in a state of full wit, leave all my fortunes to Dustin Arrow my editor, my lawyer and my longtime friend. He shall distribute and set up funds and scholarships to help those who seek help in bettering their lives, Amen. Also I want a good amount to go to agent Bib and something to this Joejo's family who gave his life for this information to be known. Goodbye!"

### CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – LAST CHANCE HOPE!

It's funny how the mind works, but as Dustin was telling me about the tapped lines, I came up with an idea. I slammed the phone into my pocket and took off running back to the tents where I found Bib talking with Gunther and Abel outside of the O tent. Barely able to breathe, I told her to get ready for all hell to break loose, and get the boys up to the camper. Of course, she was pure woman, then toss in an Agent's 'want to know it all' attitude, mixed with FBI, and you get one hell of a protest. "Don't make me laugh," was her snorted reply.

"I'm not kidding. Get the heck out of here," I gave her my strongest look and nearly growled out the order.

Of course, BIB was in no wise going to take an order from me. She replied, "This is not your case. It's not your assignment, nor is it your story yet, so don't be telling me to get out, Mister Journalist Reporter."

Irritated beyond the breaking point, in anger, I snapped out at Bib, "Sorry Honey Bunny, but I already went over your head and over that stupid Oscar Myer wiener boss's head of yours." She stood there in shock as I turned to Gunther and Abel, "Did you guys talk with Josh and Jethro?" I asked in a high speed tone.

"Sure Mitchner, but you got that look of thinking beyond your abilities again. My my, what a dreadful conclusion to a bad illusion. You must be off your rocker about our General Etroid," Gunther replied in a sarcastic, belligerent tone.

"What?" I couldn't believe it, either I was out of my mind or going insane, but these two punk-farmer twerps were still in lulu land. I didn't know what to say. Either I was out of it, or it was so far beyond reality that you had to be a space eco-freak to even begin to accept all of this.

I began to reason, as a last hope of getting these guys out of here, "What part of death don't you understand?"

I got angry and really poured it on, seeing that they were still thinking this to be some game. "Trust me. Remember the pie I brought you and how you had orders to beat me? And the snake in my pack — did I put it there? Remember the trunk that was forbidden territory? Who made that rule and why?Which of you poisoned Joe?" I thought to toss in a bit of mystery and stated, "By the way, wasn't it just so convenient for Etroid to come along and frighten away those guys who were breaking into your bus. Then after this he talks himself into the top position in your bus trip and all of you become his servants and cigarette maids!"

I had to drop something a little heavier onto their heads to get them to listen, "Why was Joejo suddenly poisoned to die a terrible death? And why all this secrecy, and two tents with guards? Now you got those stupid tattoos on your chests, huh, how stupid can you be?" I finished up with, "Why am I here even trying to tell you all this?"

In my frustration, I saw Abel's digital camera hanging on his neck and said, "Remember how you asked me if my editor might want some really far out photos?" Abel nodded yes, and I went on hurriedly, "Take your cameras, and you and Gunther start taking pictures of everything that is going on, especially with the platform and tent area. When it starts to rain, get your photos and your skinny butts into Bib's van and I guarantee that Dustin my editor will pay you major bucks for them."

"Rain, huh, the sky is perfectly blue and you're talking rain," Gunther gave forth a laughing taunt.

I turned to Bib and told her to show these two Iowa cow boys just how the hats they are wearing are spy hats for Etroid. Bib took one of the hats and showed them the inside of one of the globe buttons. They were quite intrigued and it seemed as though a tiny light went off in their brains. I reemphasized the possibility of big bucks for good pictures and they really lit up. Finally, Gunther and Abel both were nodding their consent, ha, money seems to work miracles every time. Then I began to run off. But one last idea came to me, and I stopped. "If you do not believe me, just go up to that platform, one of you try getting onto it, to take pictures. When you're struck with the shock weapon, let the other carry him back to the Wiz-Bang Van. Know that there is more to this circus army and your guru Etroid than meets the human eye, and the heart and the mind of common sense."

With this I turned and started to make my way to tent X, but halted and turned again. saying one last thing, "If that doesn't work, no matter what, when Etroid offers everyone his special planet juice, please do not drink it. It might be the last thing you ever drink. Remember Joejo's fate, because he only tasted a few drops of it."

I returned to my cut in the edge of the tent, widened the slice and crawled into the tent just behind the stack of crates and boxes. The cadets and Etroid's higher officials were all concentrated on the flyer drones, being fitted very carefully with the metal vials.

I lay alongside the rows of batteries and began to look over how everything was connected. I heard Etroid's voice coming over the loudspeakers, declaring a small step for victory and a great step for the Galactic Force from the Planet Habromania. He went on announcing high rewards to all cadets; the special ship was going to arrive soon and carry everyone to the promised planet.

I almost broke out laughing but the crowd went wild with this declaration. Etroid, with his most persuasive voice, began to explain how we were to prepare ourselves for the arrival of the mother ship, soon to appear. I couldn't hear everything with the roar of the cadets, but it sounded like he was going to distribute a special drink offering.

My eyes went over each cable, not sure if this was the full power system working the speakers, computers and most important, the telescope-type device. I could hear Etroid rambling on, "As soon as the mighty flyers are launched, we shall all join in the One United Celebration and drink of the new Habromania Juice of Life from our universal leaders. This high privilege shall open our minds unto the new heavens and we shall be taken. Friends and companions in the environmental war of pollution please bow your heads in reverence to the deeds of the Galactic Force. Acknowledge your power and your new place in the heavens."

With this, I heard the hum of forty stealth drones, fully loaded with their deadly cargo begin to hum with beeps and radio signals. I looked at my watch and saw that it was time for the moon colonists to come forth, parading themselves in front of the worldwide media, then enter into the three massive moon launch vehicles.

Desperately, I began to try and undo the cables off the batteries. They were all locked tight; therefore, without choice left to me I took out my trusty knife, grabbed the first cable and began to cut.

Let me tell you, these cables were no boiled Italian spaghetti noodles but really thick, more like freight lifting cables. I cut and sawed, and then suddenly, there were sparks, beautiful sparks!

With those sparks, my knife turned blue hot, my hand began to blister. I heard from outside the tent the voice of Etroid begin to crackle until it sputtered out and went dead.

Yes, it went silent. Oh boy, I could feel from here his anger flashing around. I moved to the next heavy cable and began to cut it. Man, I should have taken a cable-cutting class in school, maybe I might get this job done before someone comes to catch me. I was sure the next largest cable handled the drone flyers that were humming and ready to go. Just as I finished cutting half way through it and sparks were sizzling forth, I heard a loud grunt of what could only be pure unleashed anger!

A massive hand reached down and lifted me like a sack of cheap Chinese rice and I was taken up and out. Within seconds I was standing in front of my old traveling companion, Etroid, the greatest encyclopedia salesman that ever lived.

"Not you again! What have you done? And why would you cause such devious action against my authority? Did you not understand that I showed you freedom in letting you not die?" Etroid declared in a rage, pronouncing his outrage to me with flecks of flying spit. And oh my heavens, those huge silver-dollar eyes nearly blinded me with reflections from a fiery soul gone mad.

I thought to look into his eyes, maybe to reassure myself of some inner strength. But immediately I discovered secrets I never thought to know. They were like deep hollow caves, filled with magnets pulling me into dark and foreboding realms. I recoiled from this pull, but could not turn from the powers that drew me into the unknown. There, silver reflections of past mysteries began to reveal piles of human bones. Each pile was carefully arranged, as though they had been purposely set into some triumphant memorial. I knew then, that my strength alone would not allow my escape.

What strength? I thought. I was empty and hung there like a rag in the wind.

Yet, my mind fought for a grip on the edge of the pit I was just about to fall down. I was empty of practical words as I began to tumble, but somehow I thought of the old survival tactic: stall for time and wait for opportunity. I heard myself muttering, "Etroid, I witnessed your authority and was not only impressed, but became jealous of your abilities. When you left me behind, you, well, you truly frustrated my ability to perceive higher powers, I so wanted to be a part of your force."

Etroid tossed his head back, and for the first time, I heard him choke out a laugh, sounding like a landslide tumbling into a poor sleeping village. In this moment, I saw as though black holes in his eyes, gather fiery heat into each of their depths. Every blaze of spark and reflection grew brighter than stars. I saw deep fires start burning hot with the bones of all past followers in their secret chambers of hell. His mouth opened like a deep grave calling me into its depths. I knew for sure I was in trouble!

As I was ready to receive either my pardon or my punishment, I heard, off in the distance, the slow-building roar of engines. I knew then that I had failed. They were the mighty atomic powered engines of the three moon vehicles, readying themselves with a pre-test before the final countdown.

Etroid cocked his ear to listen and with a look of deep frustration and with the manifestation of madness flashing across his face, he began to shake. Since I was attached to his hands, well, I began to be shaken too, and rather violently at that. How these words tumbled out of my mouth, I don't know, but maybe they were rattled loose from my brain and fell onto my tongue. Through some unknown force within me, they rattled out like a misfiring machine gun in some World War One movie!

I yelled out, "Edwin Theodore Roidson you are nothing but an encyclopedia salesman born in New York. You're a total eco-freak murdering terrorist — a pettifogger, born of an idiot, bought and sold by the Green Thing and owned by the Chinese!"

That definitely got everyone's attention. The guard's eyes shot open while the cadets who were working at the table gasped. The Chinese computer operator leaped up in fury and began yelling and pointing towards the moon launch. All of them turned around as Etroid took the shock gun from his guard. With those silver moon eyes weighing out beams of terror into my short life, he smiled and lifted the head of that weapon which appeared like a cobras open hooded head. It moved back and forth with its fanged teeth coming at me as a terrifying instrument of death ready to strike me. I knew I was dead...then it struck!

Ka-Zammie-Blammey-Blastoid – as that moment came and went, I experienced a blast so hard and so sharp, beyond words, that I was instantly thrust out of my shoes and went flying. It was like electric bullets by the millions being shot through my every vein and found their target in my heart. During my flight I had the instantaneous opportunity to look down and see Etroid running towards the doorway. Off in the distance I saw the three giant moon rockets coming to life in all their glorious roars. Then all went black. A searing flame roared into the very core of my existence. Lights, not just any lights, but bursts of heavenly flashes, like atomic explosions scattering new solar systems from unmanned galaxies, entered into my final heartbeat. They say you see lights upon death, well, I became the light, as flames roared throughout my body to light me up like a tiki torch in Nero's garden. And that was it!

### CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – LIFE OR DEATH?

As I began my journey away from my body, I was sure I could hear flying saucers whizzing around me while it began to rain. Rain I thought, that was strange...rain?

How long I traveled I do not know, but in time I must have reached some distant place, just like Etroid had announced. For upon landing, I passed through strange clouds and terrible smells and from out of misty hazes. Strange space-people began to come to me and touch me, trying to make friends and determine if I were one of those ET's they had been hearing about.

I was taken hostage, dragged away into watery chambers and hidden away in dark places. I could hear murmuring voices of unknown languages and caught strange eyes spying upon my few last thoughts. But what were thoughts? I wondered. A constant display of shooting stars glowed behind my eyes, accompanied by sounds and voices that I knew not. Fire was roaring within me, orange smoke arose in my mind and I was choking on what had to be Hell.

Then one distant time in the heavenly realm I heard a voice sweet to my ears. It shook me out of dark places and carried me so softly, into memories of what might have once been real. I thought of it as a pure white lily in an oily junk yard!

"Ok, looks like he's coming around, Bib. But that X-O Taser scar burned into his chest is gonna leave one heck of a scar," the Bio Agent mentioned as if in passing.

"Thanks Hal, you guys did a great job."

Hal. Hey, I wonder if that is Hal the giant computer, the grandfather of all this trouble. I was pondering, when the name 'Bib' drifted across the hazy sky far above my mind. Yes, Bib. What is Bib, is Bib good?

A tender sweet sound, like a misty rain falling on a dying garden fell soft upon me, "Mitchner, O dear Mitchner, are you gonna come back to reality?"

The calling voice tenderly beckoned me, managing to lock onto my drifting attention for just a moment and urged me back to some island of solid reality. "Hey, are you going to stay out there in the outer zone waiting for the ship to come by and take you to Planet Habromania? Or to some other vegetarian solar mass."

The voice had a lilting laugh to it. I began to recollect that most wonderful voice. It was a tempting voice. But what was Bib? This bidding voice and Bib, did they exist together? Unless I was wrong — it was like a special voice assigned personally to me. It had to be an angel guiding me to better places. It had extraordinary powers, the ability to challenge my senses back into the realms of reality. It was Bib, and the gentleness of a new spring breeze slowly began to move the stormy clouds away for me. It was as though this tender voice quenched the fiery sparks flowing through my body. I felt a thick heavily woven curtain slowly open. Feelings once again circulated within me, filling my heart back up with what I remembered to be Life.

"Luke. Oh Mr. Luke Mitchner, hey there. Mr. Investigator, you can come back now, everything is under control," I felt a gentle breeze puffing against my eyes, at the same time talking with me, slowly filling my sails and calling me across a tossing ocean of deep blue. "Etroid is gone. It poured down rain from every direction, and only those flyers from tent O, flew off. However, Mr. Luke Mitchner, you rich man, you skinny hero, you can come back now. Don't worry, just like you stated, my good old team called those flyers out to the sea with enticing radio messages until they exhausted themselves and flew into the deep. Oh Luke Mitchner, can you hear me now? I want to occupy your time, as long as you have any left."

I was hearing her now, rather clear, but with some trepidation. I was desperately determined to stay behind the misty clouds and wait until the story was poured out. One could not trust any so-called agent, for once I arrived back onto the shores of reality, she would most likely not be able to tell me a thing; you know, those orders from headquarters. Thus, I passively lay on the shore of no return, trying to call out every secret with my promise of true love and my soon return to her. Yes, first and finally, I did get the full unabridged story. Then with all caution I began to drag my weary body back to her shores of loveliness.

Slowly the foggy scales of burnt memories fell from my eyes. Sure enough, there stood this welcoming woman, making my journey worth the effort. Bib was right there in my face, or should I say it was Brady Ivory Brewer, actually smiling and scanning my very soul with those ice green eyes.

I was blazing with curiosity, the first thing I mumbled forth was "What the heck is a vegetarian planet?"

Bib, the guardian of my life at that moment, stood dumb, trying to figure out what I had asked. She then broke into quiet laughter, "You tell me what a bail bondsman is all about and I'll tell you about one of those hidden places where Etroid's followers go for eternity."

Suddenly, reality swooshed into my body. The name Etroid really awakened me, and not to any good mood. "That earthling is just wonderful," I muttered. "That kind of person should be stopped dead and not be allowed to go anywhere but down deep. And by the way, where exactly did Edwin Theodore Roidson go?"

Bib stood there trying to hide in her nonchalant pose of 'don't bother to ask for now.' But up until now, the last few weeks of my journey had been focused on that green-eco terrorist. All my immediate concerns were tied into this Etroid character, and damn it, I wanted to know what happened to him. I was lying in this hospital bed, bandaged up like a mummy, branded with his X-O logo, all because of his insane nihilistic ideals. No doubt, I wanted some justice!

"Oh, so your back now, full steam! Now Mitchner, things are still being checked out. Everything is being gone through and there are lots of loose ends to be tied up still. We got a few hundred agents searching and going over everything with a fine tooth comb." She was trying to say what she was allowed, but still not tell everything.

"Just say it Bib. He got away didn't he? Your guys screwed up, didn't they? We handed everything to them on a golden platter and they blew it, go ahead, tell me!"

The thing was – I knew there was more to Etroid's getaway than Bib knew. He must have been escorted to one of those off shore ships by someone in the government; most likely to preserve him for the next national terrorist episode. But I kept my reasoning to myself.

"Ump, well Mitchner, it appears so. There, are you happy now?"

"Come on there Dear Lady of the Badge, how could that be? You had every alphabet soup group in the world out there watching, looking, guarding, and oh yes, even your own crew. Now you're telling me that this big tall general dodged all of you and disappeared?"

"As I mentioned earlier, when he blasted you with the taser for cutting those cables, he knew that his little disaster plot had become a big flop, as it began to sizzle down and fail."

The head nurse stuck her head into the room. She had heard our raised voices and asked if all was going well, Bib nodded and went on. "It looks like him and his therapist, Shirly Wrong, jumped on a wave runner and found their way out to a waiting boat off shore. There were hundreds of them out there watching the grand moon launch. Apparently they had someone out there that they knew, and departed the scene before any of the security people knew what was happening."

"Apparently!" I almost bellowed out. Then followed up with another frustrated outburst, "Insane, incompetent, and what is worse, he is now on the loose again." I waved my bandaged hand around the room to emphasize the stupidity of the escape.

"True, but we'll get him eventually," Bib padded my arm trying to soothe me and assure me that her gang would get him in time. The head nurse was standing in the doorway, observing in case she was needed to calm me down.

Bib was somewhat perturbed, watching me with an agitated look across her face at how I was criticizing her FBI. All I could say at this point was, "Just don't open your door for any slick encyclopedia salesmen."

She squinted her eyes and lowered her brow at me, putting her hand onto my forehead to check for a fever, trying to figure out what I was talking about — "Encyclopedia salesman?"

He was the core of my story, but now Etroid was gone. No way. Impossible, but true. Now what? But maybe my story on this green theme was not yet over. Who knew? He might be running for congress next; I wouldn't put it past him.

Bib did succeed in calming me, by getting into my face and staring me down. She tried soothing my anger with more of the fed's accomplishments. That was all great, but how about my story now?

I stared back, not wanting to let anything break this moment. Then I whispered so softly, she had to put her ear up to my mouth. Yes, I began to nibble on it, and locked onto her earlobe, speaking between clinched teeth. "OK Agent Brady Ivory Brewer, I'm back and I really don't care too much about what your incompetent agency did. Do I get the exclusive story on this one or not?"

"That's not fair, but you got it. Now let my ear go."

The nurse moved into the room trying to figure out what the heck I was doing to this FBI agent. I reached around to pinch her but she jumped back and wiggled her finger saying, "No, no, Mitchner!"

### CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN – THE EPILOGUE

Within a couple of days I was fully awake and recovering from one hell of an elephant-sized shock. No kidding, my chest felt like a herd of wild elephants, drunk on native palm juice, had used me as their dance floor. It was painful to smile, much less move. But my Bib was there again for me, holding my hand.

She saw that I was more or less alert and told me that I had several guests that wanted to see me. Then came Joshua, Jethro, Gunther and Able all waltzing into the room like hot shot celebrities. My ears could hardly handle their excited announcements — "Glad we made it," "You're the best," "What a great man," and "Wow, your hand is burnt to hell!"

Soon they were telling me their part in the Jetty Park Terrorist Attack (as it was being called) against the International Triple Moon Launch. From what I could get, there were several hundred of the green eco-freaks arrested, but Etroid and his girl friend or doctor, Shirly Wrong, had somehow managed to get onto a jet ski and blast out to a ship offshore to make a clean get-away, lost in the confusion. One chopper had gone down, clipped by a water tanker, but all were well.

The entire alphabet gang, from the CIA, the FBI and even beyond the NSA had been interviewing Joshua, Jethro, Gunther and Able for the last two days. Because of my recorded words to Bib's boss about their innocence, they had been kept from arrest; they were almost counted heroes in the big take-down.

I turned to Bib and asked, "Is this girl friend, Shirly Wrong, the psychiatrist that disappeared with Etroid way back when?"

"One and the same," she nodded.

"Deeper and deeper it does get," I mumbled. "Did the launch get off on schedule?"

Josh expounded excitedly, waving his hands for emphasis, "Oh man, you should have seen it. Never, ever seen anything like that!"

Jethro didn't miss a beat, "Incredible, it was like watching three Empire State Buildings take off and climb into the heavens."

I could not have summed it up better. "Sorry I missed it. But did you guys get some good pictures?"

"I got a ton of shots. Lots of drones flying around and crashing. Then in the back ground, the three massive rockets took off like, well, like atomic rocket bombs," Able blasted out this news.

"Yeah, the whole earth shook. Even fish and seals began jumping out of the water," Gunther declared.

Able added one last thing, "I also got a few good pictures of the bio team loading you into one of their bio-ambulances, and you looked, well, like you had been to the moon before the rockets got there."

Bib was just standing back and enjoying this scene: taking it all in, knowing it was good to have saved these way-out farm kids.

The boys were hardly able to stand still, so I asked, "So what now, you guys?"

"We're headed home to Iowa and back to home life. We've had enough of this outer-space cadet crap. We only have to wait for the Green Bus to be released and we're out of here."

"So you're calling it the Green Bus now?" I inquired.

"That is what the news is calling it, never thought our ten dollar green paint job would become so famous," Jethro laughed as he inserted this bit of information.

"Pictures of our green bus have been plastered all over the papers and on TV for three days now, it's more famous than we are," Able finally got his two cents in.

"Yeah, this whole thing has been on the news for three days. We've been interviewed, and even invited onto shows to tell the inside story," Josh burst out with his report.

"That's great. Sounds like there might be a few bucks in it for you too. But don't get side tracked again. Get home, back to your families and get to school. You should be wise enough now, to at least make it through the first year."

Each of them came up to my bed and shook my good hand thanking me. "We'll be looking forward to reading your book as soon as possible," Josh laughed but he sounded serious. Bib shot him a worried look at the word 'book.'

"Yeah, and make sure you spell our names the right way; we wrote them down so you would get them right," Jethro handed over a note with names and addresses, emails and phone numbers.

Bib escorted them out of the room when the doctor came in to check me one more time. The only thing he had to say was that I would have to have some skin graft to get rid of the X-O burn on my chest. I laughed and said that I probably would leave it as a reminder, not to ever take a ride in a green bus again.

Bib came back in and told me that my good buddy Dustin had called and was on his way. He'd be here tomorrow. He was going to make sure I got home safe and sound, and make sure I didn't get sidetracked again!

"Hey, hey, wait a minute, I don't want to go home so quick." I took hold of Bib's hand and quietly asked her if there was anything in our futures?

"Humm...Luke Mitchner, I'm hoping there will be, but it's gonna be a little tough."

"Like how?" I asked.

"Think about it. You're a traveling investigatory journalist, and I am an FBI agent assigned to the terrorist communication unit. This is going to make for a long distant relationship, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure, that could be. But somehow we got to keep our fire going...wouldn't you say?" I waited for her answer, but then went on, "And besides, we might make a really good team for the good guys," I began speaking with some desperation in my voice.

This desperation came from a void that was in my life. I had lost my parents in a sailing accident when I was young, then just a short time back I lost my grand parents in a plane crash, the last of my family and beloved care takers.

I guess that deep down inside I had been looking for someone to fill my emptiness. Bib seemed to have all the qualities I had been searching for. Yet now, it was obvious in her careful withdrawal she was letting me know she was married to the big bad Agency. My heart dropped into a pit and there was a greater pain inside me than on my chest. I tried to hold them back but hot tears squeezed themselves out of the deep wells of sorrow, hidden deep in my consciousness. But I knew this would do no good, for she was slipping away.

"I hope this is possible. Maybe I can get out to California for a vacation, now and then." She tried soothing my feelings, as she smiled but with a look of hesitancy, "I'm sure that our paths will cross now and then."

"You know, I was headed for Europe before that green bus swallowed me up. I'm still planning to go. How would you like to spend a month or so with me over there?"

I figured for sure it was over when she said, "I don't know, I would have to ask Oscar my boss."

Irritated, I shrugged my shoulders, "You mean the boss that I had to go around? The one that could not make up his mind or even give forth a decision, forcing me to use my lawyer Dustin to go around him. You mean that boss? The one that was going to let you take the fall?"

That was it, when she snapped back into agent mode, I knew it was over. I could tell that her dedication to the so-called 'forces of good,' or what she thought was the force of good, would not allow her the freedom to step onto another path of life. It was sad; in my heart I felt a twinge of loneliness. I had thought I might have found someone of quality and of moral values to maybe, just maybe, join me in my coming adventures.

One last thought came to me. I asked her to get my shirt and when she handed it over I dug into the pocket and pulled out a rather long splinter. I held it up between us and said, "Well, I will always have one great memory of having to deal with government owned buns!"

She tried to grab the splinter but I held it back and said, "Oh no you don't. I've got to keep this one, it just might become famous one day. When you make it to the top, I'll bring it around to keep you humble!"

She stomped her foot and turned red and the nurse came in to check out the commotion.

The next day Dustin arrived and we stood together at the green bus. I had introduced him to the boys, who were enthused about meeting a real editor. They handed over copies of all the pictures they had taken, and Dustin promised to see what he could do about selling a few to different magazines. The final photo shoot was with me, wearing my X-O iron-studded cap, standing with the boys alongside the Green Bus. I had Dustin slip a surprise envelope into Josh's hand for their trip home, and something for their futures.

The Iowa farm boys got into their green bus and pulled out of Jetty Park, finally on their way, headed back to the good old farm country where they belonged.

With some real honest tears, I said my goodbyes to Agent Brady Ivory Brewer. I wished her the best, and I told her if she ever wanted to consider a life and a job out west, to call me.

Through her own tears, she smiled her best smile ever. Then she added for fun and for my irritation, "Well Luke A. Mitchner, I'll have to talk to my boss about that!"

I reached over to give her a good pinch on the rear but she jumped back. "Ok, Luke A. Mitchner, this case is closed!"

Brady Ivory Brewer said her good-byes. I watched the Wiz-Bang Van, with its newly acquired dents and sand blasted paint job head north. With her went several accompanying agents so she would make it back to the Agency at Quantico without any other mishaps.

Immediately, Dustin stepped up and quietly filled me in on some unpleasant news. "Luke you know that since you and this FBI lady have been in the news with this entire International Moon Launch rescue, there are a good number of detectives and Private-Eyes searching for you. They want to get their hand on you and possibly harm you in getting your inheritance out of the court systems. Two of them have shown up at my office asking for you. They are tuned into this Moon Launch story of yours and are most likely on their way here. "

"Oh, not good," I pondered. Dustin looked around and said that he was taking me out of this hospital and hiding me away for a time until I was back to normal. I had to stay in hiding until the courts had released all my inheritance and we did not know when this might be.

So Dustin had me taken to a private care facility where I would spend the next few weeks. These next two weeks would be filled in writing several exciting articles for different magazines. My heart was heavy, knowing that Bib was gone out of my life. This was hard to take, but slowly I took hold of the reigns to my future, while the theme song of Summer Time, just kept on looping itself around in my mind.

The End

### THE LUKE MITCHNER SERIES

Enjoy all 6 books of The Luke Mitchner Series from Michael M. Tickenoff.

The Green Bus And The X-0 Factor!

The Pitt Stop Puzzle Mystery!

The Hearst Castle's Lost Treasure Mystery!

Obscenity Island!

Palmyra Island Lost Treasure Adventure!

The Inheritance! Parts 1 and 2

### OTHER BOOKS FROM MICHAEL TO YOU

STORIES/FABLES RELATED TO BLINDNESS

Olga, The Blind Man's Beauty

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/285426

Angel Eyes!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/301265

Old Blind Sarah And The Village Lake Walkers

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/328402

FABLES AND MAGICAL TALES

The Seventh Man!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/511912

Fountains From Ice!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/515231

FORERUNNER TO LUKE SERIES

The Great Summer of Philosophy!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/322984

NON-FICTION ADVICE AND QUOTATIONS

1000 Things to Tell your Kids Before It's Too Late

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/296731

