Two days later, Beauregard was standing outside Hilda's front door barking like a dog, but wearing his old codger's clothes. This time the plumber's van made a one-way trip to the old coots home.
Beauregard did well in the old coots home. His craziness was only periodic. Between episodes, he'd enjoy himself in his free private room, eating his free food, watching a free sports channel on his free TV, and eying the nurses – a pastime that also was free. When he wasn't being entertained by the TV, Beauregard would sit in a wheel chair that he didn't need but which was useful for gaining sympathy. He'd watch the pretty nurses as they strolled by and he'd smile at them. Beauregard would fantasize a little about each one. Life couldn't be better, he thought.
Well, he was wrong. It could be better. One day, three old codgers wandered into the games room where Beauregard was working on some three-cushion bank shots on that full-length pool table. They closed the door and declared, "We're not crazy either."
A day later, Beauregard was not only living in reasonable splendour for free, but he was now enjoying poker games inside a haze of cigar smoke in the company of three buds. At least one of the four old men would go crazy each day. They all had their own routines, but they all exhibited a common insane pattern. They'd run down the hallway, clutching and grabbing at the nurses as they passed. Each had diagrammed out in advance what moves he would use. With all of them being football fanatics, you won't be surprised to hear what their plans were.
For example: Run straight to the nurse's station, button hook and grab a nurse, flash out to the flat, curl, grab a nurse, and then head for the goal line with hands extended and cackling like,... well, cackling like a crazy old coot. The goal line was Amber who was not flat chested. She was so not flat chested that getting a touch down on the so not flat chested part of her body was worth six points. The other nurses had nice boobs that definitely qualified for field goals, but Amber's boobs were a major score.
Grabbing for butts was point-worthy too. However they'd need a lot of butt grabs to win the competition because butt grabs were worth only one point – a butt grab being considered a mere chip shot from immediately in front of the goal posts. However if anybody achieved a butt grab that encompassed both sides of the field of play, they'd get a two-point conversion. The boys would keep score for a week and then start from zero again.
Medical staff were perplexed at what would set them off. They theorized that if they could find the cause, they might be able to stop the fits. If you're interested in such things, what set Beauregard and his buds off was the end of their daily poker game. When one of them ran out of matchsticks (heads removed for safety reasons by the staff), they'd count up who had won and that guy was given the reward of going crazy.
Beauregard suggested that they time their crazy fits to occur when most of the nurses were in the hall carrying trays of something. With a laden tray, a nurse was not likely to go squealing away into a corner. To prevent the contents of their tray from spilling, they'd stand still instead. "Beauregard, you are a dirty old man," one nurse would say while tolerating his hands. On these days, (and they couldn't schedule the insane fits too often at tray-carrying times for fear of being found out), the touches became more caressing and less grabby. Some of the nurses were getting more action from the crazy old coots than they were getting from their husbands. They'd look at each other and shrug – What can you do. They're crazy.
But the absolute best part of going crazy was when one of the nurses suggested to the staff psychiatrist that they might be able to learn what was causing the old codgers to have crazy fits if they got them drunk. They might blurt out some information that would allow staff to draw some conclusions. To hide the true purpose of the booze, the nurse offering this solution told the psychiatrist that a few nurses might be persuaded to work overtime on Friday nights and make notes on any revelations that came to light. The crazy men would know that something was up if the psychiatrist started watching them; the nurses would be beyond suspicion.
So four crazy old men who weren't crazy, and four nurses who were going crazy because they were being ignored at home, were able to spend Friday evenings drinking and sharing experiences. And if, from time to time, a nurse or four would feel it would be safer to sleep over rather than driving home in their condition, well... that was just part of drinking responsibly. The nurses couldn't ply the crazy old coots with liquor if they didn't take a few sips themselves, could they? Close supervision during the night might be necessary if the liquor loosened their tongues, wouldn't it? For obvious reasons, the nurses didn't share with anybody what the term close supervision meant.
The reason I tell you this story is to share this observation with you: Sometimes, being crazy works out well for the crazy person.
# # # # # # # #
Crazy Nary, if we may characterize her as such, was lying on top of a sleeping bag, curled up like a cat, and sunning herself on a sandy beach when Theo returned from his hunting excursion with Contrary. Nary was wearing only a few scraps of cloth, but not because she was trying to get a tan – black skin doesn't show a tan very well. She was just soaking up the sun, relaxing the muscles, and feeling good. Like a cat. That doesn't surprise you, does it?
"That hunting trip was amazing," Crazy Theo said. (If Nary is crazy, the same must be true for Theo.)
"You managed to call Contrary to you?"
That had been a problem for Theo up to today. Contrary would only come when Nary called her. Once she had crossed into this plane, she'd let Theo share. But otherwise, no. Nary had described for Theo how she and Marie brought their companions across the astral plane, or out of the cuckoo hut if you're inclined to believe that explanation of a panther and human sharing biological space.
"It's not a verbal call. It's a mental call. Imagine her in your head, say the Voodoo words I gave you, and put some oomph on them. Contrary won't be used to hearing you so you have to draw her attention away from whatever she's doing at the time on her side of the astral plane."
Theo had done that and Contrary had appeared in his mind. He messaged some Voodoo words that Nary explained were equivalent to "I'm coming in," and Contrary opened her mind.
"I can't believe what it's like to be fully inside the body of a panther," he said. "Before, I was sort of on the outside, looking in. But once she opened up her mind, I could sense everything that Contrary was thinking, seeing, hearing, smelling, and doing. We were perfectly attuned. I feel her power more when I'm inside. She's actually a big panther when you're all the way in."
"When you're used to her, you'll be able to adjust her size bigger or smaller," Nary added. "I never thought of her as big."
"I can't think of anything that would be more exciting. Sex would probably be more exciting, I suppose."
Crazy Nary stretched like a cat would, looked directly at Crazy Theo, and purred, "I know a way to find out."
Like I said..., sometimes being crazy works out well for the crazy people.
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Chapter 22
On Monday June 17, Bean found the Wilizy compound. The battles with the Alaskans had not been a secret, especially to the people who lived in the general area of the Wilizy compound. Local shopkeepers in particular were eager to talk. Tourist traffic had died off after Will and Izzy had died, but here was a lady who was interested in the Wilizy and she had money to spend. When Bean heard how tourist guides had brought people right up the compound's security fence, she revealed that she was a tourist guide herself. Perhaps the shopkeeper could give her directions to the compound? When she brought her tourists to the Wilizy compound, she'd be sure to have a rest stop right here in front of his store.
As Bean was loading up her copter with samples of tourist trinkets from his store, the owner felt it fair to warn her how the Alaskan's planes had tried to bomb the compound and had failed. He also warned her that she'd have to be sure to stop the tourists from going too far past the warning signs. Blinking ligh
ts were bad news. Nobody had been able to find a way past the Wilizy's security fence.
Bean coptered to the Wilizy's southern perimeter the next day. She landed near a meandering river and began to hike in. She saw the printed warning signs but continued past the sign that announced a Final Warning. When a red light started closing ground on her, she retreated until it stopped where it was, still blinking, but not angrily. She lay flat on the ground for a few minutes and began a slow crawl forward. When the light began to approach her again, she retreated.
Back at her copter, Bean hesitated for a few minutes before circling the compound and trying to penetrate the defenses from a different direction. As soon as a red light appeared, she turned around and left the area.
The next day found Bean mingling with patrons in a Red Deer pub that was a short stroll away from the gate into the Wilizy Aircraft factory. She was interested in buying aircraft. What exactly were they making? She heard about the super transports that were not for sale. She also heard that smaller transports would be available soon and small family planes/copters were in the planning stage. Nobody could tell her about the power train the Wilizy were using, but they did say that these planes were far superior to the Alaskan planes that the Wilizy had shot down quite easily in their war.
# # # # # # # #
On Thursday of that week, Bean met Jak in Regina in the middle of the old football field. They met there solely because it was a good meeting place. Jak had completed a soft recon of the army base before landing in the field just to reassure herself. The base was still near empty. She put the Saskatchewan Sasquatches out of her mind.
"Do you have new orders?" Bean asked.
"No, but I did tell Wilhelm that you were pursuing a lead on the Wilizy organization. I told him that they had been a military threat some years ago but were now focused on making money. He offered two more platoons if we thought we needed them. Those platoons would be regular army."
"I met the men in the first platoon. They were bragging about one of their secret operations. In Stockholm, I believe."
"Yah. That operation was in response to all the protests in the streets. Accusations were spreading that pestilence carriers were being inoculated to prevent the spread of disease. Some sleazy politicians were bleating about the rights of all people to determine for themselves if they would have health vaccinations or not. The guys in this platoon had been ordered to sneak into a mostly residential area and burn and loot the businesses of some pestilence carriers. They also had the green light to rape up to two of the female pestilence carriers each. I gather they all took trophies. Scarves mostly, but underwear as well. Ask them about that. I'm sure they'll be happy to show you."
Bean remained quiet.
Jak continued with her description of the operation. "That operation changed the focus of the protests from inoculations to one of law and order. Wilhelm brought in the regular army and restored order sharply. The sleazy politicians who were trying to drum up support for pestilence carriers disappeared. A successful ending for Special Ops actually. I was out of the country at the time, but was promoted into the command structure for that platoon when I returned. I helped design a program that hid chemicals in food or drinks that only pestilence carriers would consume. No pestilence carriers will be having children in that community, I can tell you. It's a pilot. If it continues to work successfully, Special Ops will conduct it nation-wide."
Really, Jak? Really?
"What about your search for the Wilizy?"
Bean didn't know what to say. She was still reeling from Jak's comments. Jak and Bean had killed before, but they were defending the country from an enemy force. The towel women thought that a rogue platoon was raping and disappearing. It wasn't a rogue platoon out of control after all. Special Ops, the same organization that Bean belonged to, was systematically raping and poisoning Scandinavian citizens under direct orders! But only the citizens who had a different colour and a different religion received their attention. She didn't share her outrage. Bean had learned before – you rarely get in trouble for keeping your mouth shut. "I'm still looking for their home compound," she lied.
"I'll go back east and check out the rumour of the Wilizy presence in Toronto for you," Jak offered. "After that, I'll go back to Ranch #4 to wrap up the mystery of how Princess Freya escaped. I'm almost certain she had help."
# # # # # # # #
The same day that Jak and Bean were meeting in Saskatchewan, the Wilizy were meeting in their recreation center in the home compound. This was a full-scale family meeting that had been called to prepare them for the battles that would commence in two days. All Warriors of fighting age were asked to attend. They timed the meeting so that the kiddies would be in bed when it started. Liset was allowed to attend her first briefing meeting – at least the first one where she wasn't hiding. EmmaGee was in that hiding place instead.
"Just a quick announcement before we start," Jock began the meeting. "I'm circulating a picture of a woman who was testing the home compound's defenses earlier this week. As you can see, she is very tall and has short dark hair. You can tell she's military by the belly crawl. We also have a close up of her from one of TG's cameras. A camera further out picked up her copter as it landed. Take a close look at that."
"Military," Hank observed. "Not a type I've seen before."
"How do you know it's military?" Momaka asked.
"Disguised gun ports at the front." Jock replied for Hank. "This is not the woman who followed me in Regina. However the clothes she is wearing are identical in colour and style."
"We're being re-conned," Lucas concluded. It's amazing how wearing a uniform to a family function can prompt the use of military language.
"Have any of you who were investigating the ..."
At that point, Theo and Nary came into the rec center. "Sorry we're late. Contrary was being difficult."
Actually, they were late because they lost track of time. I probably don't have to tell you what they were doing that caused them to lose track of time.
Six pairs of female eyes looked at Nary; next, they looked at Theo; then, these same eyeballs twanged like a banjo string in recognition of why they were late. Granny messaged Yolanda, They've just had sex. Yolanda had figured that out on her own. Immediately after listening to Granny's message, Yolanda received similar messages from Momaka, Melissa, and Mac. Yollie sent her message ten seconds later. She had been leaning over to talk with Liset when the grand entrance took place. Winnie was not sophisticated enough about sex yet to twang her eyeballs, but she could read the look on Nary's face. Way to go, Nary!
"Theo, you're looking better," Doc observed. Doc didn't have the necessary genetic perceptions to know that he should have silently twanged his eyeballs and kept his mouth shut.
Granny suppressed a snort with difficulty and turned it into a cough instead. The other eyeball twangers swallowed snickers.
Marie hadn't twanged her eyeballs, nor had she suppressed a snicker or a snort. She had known about the sex before Nary and Theo had walked through the door. In fact, she had delayed this new stage of their relationship as much as she could to ensure that both wanted it. Remember those red eyes that served as an optical form of birth control? Guess what? They didn't belong to Contrary. Marie could now relax. She would die within the next ten days, but she knew now that Theo would care for Nary after she was gone.
"Well..., I am feeling better," Theo agreed.
Smiles and snickerettes started to emerge.
"What?"– some of the men asked in reaction to the women's strange behaviour.
"Oh, for goodness sakes," Mac declared. Then she went to the pair standing in the doorway trying really, really hard to appear nonchalant. Mac gave them both a big hug and said, "Congratulations, guys!" All the eyeball twanging women followed.
The men continued to ask... "What?"
# # # # # # # #
The meeting had finally resumed. Jock was able to ask if anybody researching the Sa
fe Haven ranches had seen the soldier with the black hair. None had.
Melissa asked for a readiness report. Winnie announced that they were ready. Key people in each ranch had been contacted and brought into their part of the plan. Each ranch had the same type of go signal. The slave leader would hang a pre-specified distinctive piece of clothing on the drying line 24 hours before the Wilizy attack was programmed to start. The drying line always had clothes on it; nobody would notice the signal except the sub-leaders who would inform their groups of the impending battle only a few hours ahead of time. Then they'd all hide in readiness. Nobody would have the chance to leak any information to the bosses.
Melissa was starting to identify the battle groups when Lucas interrupted. "I'm sorry, Melissa. I know I helped prepare this plan and I thought it would work. But it won't work. It's all wrong."
That snapped everybody into silence. Melissa's plans were never wrong.
"What's wrong with it," Melissa asked. A certain amount of frost had vexed its way into her voice.
"Here's one thing that could be a problem. You and I expected that if we could keep the bosses away from their stash of weapons, the slaves could overcome them. But if a single boss happens to be sleeping with a weapon close by, that boss can kill at least six slaves if not more. Plus if the bosses can rally together, they can be a solid phalanx of whips and whatever wooden weapons they can find. With a gun picking off the leaders, the slaves will crumble."