The Unbeaten Path
By Stephan X. Sabre




Chapter One

Monica

When, in bitter cold, the sun first appears... A ray of hope for all whom hears... The message for in the holy bell tolls... The billowy clouds furl and roll...


10, August 1998;


In the Arizona desert;

The only light aside the moon and stars above, a lonely campfire, burning as a candle in an unholy darkness. A lone figure nuzzled on a bedroll. The red and orange light filters upward into nothingness smoke its only projection.

The figure, gazing sleeplessly into the fire, perhaps hoping for release. But, naught. Instead, the cold air lifted the long dark locks from its shoulders. There is no release in loneliness, only fear, mistrust, anxiety. For hours, the figure stared, undaunted by the popping of the furious embers.

The fire, starting to fall back to its ash state, dying, yielded its authority of light to a much greater fire. The black started to roll away to a deep blue, covering the starry night. The moon still visible rotated away, beyond the mountainous horizon.

The figure rose slowly, gathered the roll, and trudged northward.

An hour or so later, coming upon a long stretch of highway, the figure stopped to rest.

In the distance, a whisper, no. A tire noise. The vehicle moving quickly, just barely a speck on the mirror of blacktop. In moments, the vehicle neared, and slowed. The rumble of a large engine, compounded with the uproar of a loud boom, emanating from within the car, subsided as the vehicle came to a stop. The power window on the passenger side whisked down.

"Honey, this isn't the place for little girls to just wander around. Where are your mom and dad?" asked the slender man with a goatee and ponytail, and a cell phone in his ear.

"There are none anymore," she said staunchly, as she reached for the door handle.

"Wait," he waved his finger at her, "I'll call you back. Look sweetheart I'm no baby-sitter, and I'm in no mood."

"Good, I'm not a baby, and I'm not in any mood, either. Just the nearest town, please, that is unless I look formidable enough to walk there on my own?" Not looking at him, just continuing to allow herself into the car.

"Oh, get in." he bellowed sarcastically.

As she got in, she wrapped the seatbelt around and snapped it into place. He put his foot down hard on the Camaro's accelerator, erupting a plume of fine smoke from the tires. He hit redial as the car sped past the 115 mark.

"Oh, yeah, you're not going to believe this one. Now I've got a passenger." He listened for a moment, "Look, Tallae, it's a little girl for good grief." Another pause as if interrupted, "I tried that but she's alone, and she only asked to go to the next town, I figure I'll drop her off in Flagstaff and be on my way. Quit worrying. You're going to upset me." And without a reply he punched the end button.

Several miles passed without a word. Then,

"My name's Anders, Reileigh Anders. What's yours?"

She stared ahead. "Now look sweetheart, all I know is you could be running away from home, your first name would be enough." he nudged.

She looked at him. He melted, her deep brown eyes, almost black, her Asian yet Jewish features, elevenish, in one word, for a child, beautiful. Save a fierce burn scar on her left cheek. "Monica." She stated, coldly.

"Hey, if you were six years older, I'd ask you for a date." Even he couldn't believe he said it. But she turned away almost expecting it.

"Sometimes things aren't always as they appear Mr. Anders." Speaking more to the mirror outside her window, a thousand miles away.

Puzzled, he inquired but got no response. Fishing for any kind of conversation, and finally, silent, he focused his attention on a sign. I-17 Flagstaff 62. Again he focused on her. She, reclined, had fallen asleep.

He slowed to the speed limit, almost as if to prolong his time with her. Wishing she would awake and talk to him. `It must be fate,' he thought, `I just won't stop at Flag'. I need to make up the time anyway.'

The car jolted. Barely able to control it, he glanced at her. Still asleep, but seeming to have a nightmare, sweating, fighting slightly, fear on her face. If it weren't for the trouble of controlling the blowout, he would have tried to comfort her, immediately. But by the time he stopped the car she had awoke.

Before he could hardly move, she had pushed the button in the glove box and nearly had the spare out.

"Now, Monica, wait. I'll take care of that." She had the spare on the ground and got the jack and wrench. "Come on now, I can do it, it's my car." Jack on the ground car in the air, all five lugs in her hand. "Stop, Monica, you don't have to." Tire off, spare on. He grabbed the tire, and burned himself on the rim that she had just had in her hands. Lugs back on, car on the ground, and headed for the trunk. He stepped in her way. She just looked at him, as to say, `what?', and moved around.

Once back in the car, "Look, Monica, I appreciate all of that but I can take care of myself. I don't need some obviously angry little girl doing everything for me. Talk to me. For my own sanity, tell me why you're all by yourself out here."

"You're not mature enough to understand. Yet. Anyway, don't you have something to get to, in, like, some kind of big hurry, or something."

"Who's being baby-sat here?" He whined.

"I told you, I'm not a baby." she was still talking to the mirror outside the window.

"Okay, sorry, but neither am I. Okay. Now, tell me you're story, or I'm not starting this car." Demanded the driver.

"Then, thank you for the ride." She grabbed for the door handle.

"Okay, cool off. I'm going. I just wish you'd tell me something." He turned the key, "You know I'm not a total imbecile, and I do have feelings. But I don't guess a sweet, innocent thing like you has ever been accused of smashing a man's heart, yet, huh?"

"Actually..." she stammered around the question.

"Ok, then, at the very least, what was the dream about?" Ry turned away from the road briefly to view her reaction.

"A flat tire." At least she was looking forward this time.

"No really." He questioned with some doubt. She was silent.

"Seriously?" Adding some surprise to his first query.

"Yes." her eyes nearly swelled shut with forming tears, "A blow out and a car wreck."

"Oh, I thought you meant mine."

"I did." As the first tear breached to duct.

"But we didn't come any where near a wreck." Ry now sounding very doubtful.

"So I underestimated you. You are getting closer to what I've been looking for." She squeezed out a glance at him.

"For? For what? To find somebody? And what do you mean? Are you trying to tell me that you caused my blowout?" His head spun now. Not fully grasping what she was trying to tell him.

She nodded, "Oh, yeah, right." He sputtered, half starting to believe her.

"I told you that you weren't mature enough." She winced.

"Okay, you tell me that you have this magic thing that what ever you dream happens?" He pressed.

"No, what ever I ask for happens. It's not magic. Call it a curse." She answered, knowing full well that he was hooked now, "Or knowledge of an abandoned art, or whatever, I don't understand totally. Anyway, what I've been looking for is an answer, oh, say, some kind of real family or something." Now she was looking him in the eye, tears starting to clear, uncertain how much more to tell him.

"How long have you been lost?" He just kept pressing.

"I'm not lost, Reileigh. I'm searching." She said with a far away look in her eyes. Much like he imagined she was giving the outside mirror a while ago.

"Are you're parents looking for you?" He asked.

" Not too likely, since I really don't exist to him. You see, I don't know if I was even born to them or not."

"You're on a quest to find parents that you've only dreamed about? Oh, come on Monica that's the oldest runaway gag in the book! Give me a break. I'll take you home when I get done with my business."

"Maturity is not a commodity that you're familiar with, I see." She now obviously had left her sense of him being the one, back at a cactus about ten miles ago.

"Quit trying to yank my chain girl, or I'll..." Starting to bellow, at the verge of a rage that he had obviously been holding in for a long time.

"Spank me? Throw me out? I've already told you too much, just drive." While not afraid of him, he was starting to show signs of being a hazard. She sat looking only forward.

And drive he did, speeding again, all the way to a diner outside of Flagstaff, getting onto I-40 from I-17.

* * *

They sat down at a table, and were waited on. She brought her roll and her bag in with her and they rested on the seat next to her.

"I want to say I'm sorry, Monica, it's just that this old enough thing is making me furious." He appeared totally honest in his apology.

"Reileigh, " She looked into his eyes, deep, almost trying to see inside, empathy, yes taht's what it was. "I didn't say old enough, I said mature enough. There is a big difference. I am coming to a point in my life where several very unconventional things are going to take place. And if you're the one with whom this all rests, you really do have some learning to do." She leaned toward his side of the table to whisper, "And you'll have to quicken your learning curve or you'll get hurt." She stiffened, eyes big, horrified. A lanky, youth in a black leather coat stared in her direction.

She looked away. He advanced.

"We should leave!" She rushed in a quiet but, pushed voice.

"Why?" He stared at the young man who looked familiar.

"Don't ask, just do." She said with a stare that punctuated her sentence with almost anguish.

The young man reached into his coat and pulled a large looking gun with a silencer and a wire rest, which he flipped toward his shoulder. She reached into her bag and drew a small weapon of her own, it looked to be a 9mm sized pistol. Everyone dove for cover, screaming. Except, Monica and the young man. A staredown ensued.

"Stamonikesha Chandler, By the authority vested in me by the plains government, I am placing you under arrest for high treason, and murder." The young man was barely 15 years old.

"I hardly think so, Forrest, you have no authority here. Don't make my charges any worse." She thought that actually sounded kind of corny.

"What's going on here, Monica?" inquired Reileigh from under the table with a .45 Colt snubnose with a silencer, already out of it's holster.

"Who's the friend, Stamonikesha?" pummeled Forrest, "An accomplice perhaps, no, just a friend? Or someone who picked you up out of the gutter? I found you and you are going back with me."

"I have done nothing to your wonderful free society, Forrest, why do you persecute me? I didn't kill our mother, and you know it. I'm here to find the witch who did." She played passionately. Although, she thought it a bit too melodramatic.

"Enough talk, put your weapon down." He focused his flinching eyes on her weapon. She drew a bead on his forehead from her abdominal area. She switched on the laser sight and struck his retina in first his right and then his left, blinding him momentarily. While he was blinded, she flipped hand to foot about ten times, covering the twenty or so feet between them in less than a few seconds. Swinging her right leg around backward, she caught his neck in the back of her knee, and used him for a fulcrum to twirl herself back around to the front a full 180º, effectively removing the Skorpion from his use, and into her own hands. Fully knocking him to the ground, and her to her hands mounting a hand stand. She then flipped again, landing with her right foot lightly on his neck. She wasn't even breathing hard.

"As I have told you before, Forrest, I am not a pawn in your little game any longer. I won't put up with this harassment much longer. And if I tell you again, I will be forced to kill you. And, my dear brother, I do not want that to happen."

She let him up, and walked out the door. Reileigh followed, dumbfounded, with his pistol trained on Forrest.

Back into the Camaro, safely on their way, Reileigh asked her of her intentions.

"I think you have seen enough that I can trust you with some more information. Forrest is my older brother, and I am the second of triplet girls. Stamonikesha Chandler. My sisters are Reighnbough, and Tylisant. Our father is a very militant man, bent on resurrecting the South, Though not for the supposed 'traditional' reasons. We, girls have been developed mentally for a strategic command dictatorship that the world has not yet known. I am a physiologist and tactician. Tyli is a business major with a heavy background in fringe money activity. And Reighni is a mathemtician and computer expert. And Forrest is the brawn. Together we were programmed and brainwashed into thinking and doing only what needed to be done for the furtherance of the Government for the United Plains. The GUP is essentially a hub of the entire `Dark Side' of the militia movement. Of which my father is the silent ruler."

"Okay, but where do I fit into all of this?" He asked, barely keeping his eye to the road ahead.

"I'm getting to that. My father never planned on me being a free will. I am an artist. That's the paradox of programming a child to analyze the planet. I love life. I love nature. I love people as a general rule. And that was his plan's downfall. I'm not what he planned at all."

"But me?" Still urging the story out of her, like he had been doing all morning.

"You understand enough of what you have seen, to believe me. About thirty others have totally misunderstood, and thought that I was just some kind of plot to use them to hurt someone. Or a couple thought, mistakenly that this was some sort of cover for a white slavery thing or a child prostitution ring. That has nothing to do with what is relevant here, my purpose is to strangle my father's hold on my sisters, that is all, when that is accomplished, then I can continue his work in a peaceful manner."

"How can world domination be peaceful, Monica?"

"That is not my work yet. I guess most of what I want is my family back the way it was a few years ago when daddy was just another survivalist militia man. I do still love him, and all of my family, but things are very difficult now. And now, what about you? What do you do?"

"Oh, shoot!" Looking at the clock on his paused CD player, " Monica you don't mind if I risk a ticket do you? I'm late. Very late." He shoved the pedal to the floor, and the transmission kicked down, "I run guns to the militias that your talking about. I'm on a pick up now, and if I don't make up 100 miles in about 30 minutes I'm in deep, Um, deep trouble."

"At this point, how can I help you?" She queried.

"I don't know, sweetheart, I don't know." He finally focused on the road ahead.

The car pegged the speedometer before it shifted to Drive, again. And then went another 2500 rpm past that. The car was traveling, in the best guess of Monica, nearly 170. The passing lines blurred. Traffic was passed like it was sitting still. She even thought she saw the paint peeling. Corners that hardly felt like corners at the speed limit, made the car lean, hard, and possibly drifted on occasion. The straight lines, the car floated along, the tachometer reaching redline, and slightly over revving when topping a hill.

At long last, around about the time the oil smoke started pouring out the tail of the car, he slowed, and came to a stop outside of what seemed to be an empty warehouse in a small town's industrial park. Slamming it to a stop, smoke pouring from under the hood, outside of a loading dock with a ramp up into the building. He blipped the horn lightly twice, and the door opened.

A slightly heavy man, appeared, heavily armed, and demanded that they get out of the car. Monica had palmed her brother's Skorpion and now slipped it into her trenchcoat. Reileigh grabbed a sawed-off 12-gauge from behind the seat. They both exited the vehicle.

"Ry, what is this?" The burlesque man asked.

"Tallae, this is Monica. She turned out to be more of an asset than a hindrance. So I let her tag along. And before you say a word, it's my business who goes in my cars."

"Ry, Function is royally, uh, um, Ticked." Tallae shuffled he feet at his near curse around such a cute kid.

"Would everyone quit treating me like an infant! You bunch of stupid assholes anyway!"

Whispering to Reileigh, Tallae pointed at Monica, "Who chizzed in her werrios anyway? Now I'm not sure who's more pissed, her or Function."

Tallae and Reileigh went in first, followed by a watchful eye of Monica.

"You're a minute and a half late, Ry. Do I get to kill you now?" A staunt English accent with heavy female intonations rattled from the shadows. "And who is this wonderful voy toy you have there, Ry. My, my, you have been busy. Mommy had to work so it's take daughter to work day, hmmm?"

"No, Function, she's not my daughter..." He abhorred her tone with him.

"Oh, then I admire you're persistence in getting what you want out of the opposite sex, why she's all of about four?" Definately too many years worth of cigarette's with that voice.

Sullen, Monica mouthed, "hardly." Palming her brother's gun, she thought of all her father and said about this crazy tramp. And she was only about two minutes ahead of the fellas in the white coats coming to put her in an I-love-me jacket, and haul her off to the marshmallow room at the Happy Hilton. In fact, her father was the only reason she was still alive, she had to have the most money on her head of any woman ever living.

"I don't appreciate your accusations, Function. Maybe I don't need your work after all."

"Oh, but Ry, yes you do. You know, to support this cradle habit of yours."

"Enough. The merchandise, Ry." Monica allowed herself to slither disdainfully toward Function, "And by the way, I do allow you to be eccentric, just don't get sloppy, or I'll kill you." She watched Function's deathly glare on her as she spoke, and when she had finished her warning, the woman didn't flinch.

A crate was shoved into the light and the top busted open. "Is this the quality goods with which you seek?" She was getting almost too cocky for her own good. So much for liking human's in general. She could already feeling herself gunning down this blight on womanhood. With the top away, the box was filled with music boxes, and small sub machine guns.

Monica walked to the box, picked up a 9mm UZI, and declared, "Junk! Oh, how very sloppy of yourself. These aren't near the quality my father is looking for. When he gets word of this from his subordinates, he will come after you, Junk-tion."

"Father? Who is this child? I seriously hope you don't think I'm stupid enough to believe that your one of Chandler's witches!"
"I am not a child! The next one that calls me that will die!! I am Stamonikesha Chandler, the witch who runs this business of yours, Correll, and I will have your head on a platter for my father." She stated, pulling the ejector lever back on her Skorpion.


"You're in a very dangerous position little girl, for one I answer to no little bitch, two your not the caliber of child I was dreaming of. Your not old enough to be the princess of the United States, You really must be kidding yourself to think that I could believe a twelve year old could be trusted with millions of dollars of hard laundered cash." She taunted, "Still you do know my name, and that's dangerous information."

"For you or me?" Monica didn't recoil a bit. "And I'm not the one in charge of the money, anyway."

"Why, you, my dear." Her eyes flashed. Monica smiled, day dreaming of a time when she would personally tear her heart out and feed it to her.

"I came here for my pickup, I don't care what else is going on here. I need the money, so if we could get on with it!" Reileigh broke in.

"Well, we will see what we can do, and in the meantime keep her in plain sight, we don't need any distractions floating around." Function stated to Tallae, who seemed very surprised that this child was supposedly his boss's boss.

Reileigh motioned for Monica to come to his side. "We've got to get out to the truck now."

So they moved to another part of the warehouse, and there sat a yellow Peterbilt with a 102" sleeper, lots of clearance lights, and a V-12, injected, dual turbine engine. Simply put, a beautiful truck by anyone's standards.

They loaded up and climbed in. As soon as they ran the air up on the brakes they headed for the large door that they parked in front of. The door opened and someone was in the process of moving the Camaro. They pulled out onto the street and headed back to Flagstaff, to jump back onto interstate 40.

He looked at her a little closer. The burn mark on her face was a marking of some kind. Almost as if she had been branded.

Soon they were flying along at a reasonable speed.

Two long dark ribbons, outstretched in the night air. A slight pre-rain wind blowing. Yet the stars still hung their canopy over the darkness. A venerable Christmas tree of lights whistled along the highway. There hadn't been any other traffic to pass for almost an hour.

Reileigh decided to pull into a rest stop. Monica didn't even seem tired.

"Look, Monica, you've been awake all day, you go ahead into the sleeper and I'll just sleep here."

"No, Ry, you need the sleep more than I do. Go ahead, and I might take a walk."

"Maybe you shouldn't..."

"Ry, I have been walking and hitchhiking for two months, I can take care of myself." Then she stopped herself, "But thanks for the concern."

It was the first time she had looked him in the eyes in such a loving and concerned manner. He was nearly floored.

"Do you need some company?" He asked quietly, as not to get her thinking about all of the child-things that she obviously hated so much.

She thought for a moment, and then, "Sure."

They both climbed out of the cab and sauntered to the sidewalk.

"Monica? I'm not sure how to say this because I've never felt very close to my siblings, but there's something special between us. I mean, in just the one day we've been together, I already feel like I'm your brother. Not to jump the gun or anything, but I really think that we could help each other. It's almost, well, it's almost like somehow we're kindred spirits or something, you know?"

"I don't know. I have never had to analyze something so wholesome, so welcome. Ry, I'm not sure how to put this, but I would love to be your sister. You've really put me in a spot here. There's feelings here that I've barely felt before. I just hope that they can continue."

"Me too."

They walked hand in hand for a while in the quiet. Alone, together. A family that they had both longed for all of their lives. They finally felt whole. Two pieces of a large puzzle.

"Reileigh, would you be offended if I leaned on you? This is the most comfortable I have been in a long time. For once I don't feel that I have to defend myself."

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I have been so alone all my life, and now with you I have a sister. And now I actually have a feeling that I love. So, sis, can I call you Sis?"

She smiled, and her eyes lit up. "Yes, bubba, you may!" With that she buried her head between his arm and side, he smiled, thinking, `bubba?!?', and they continued walking through the thickening mist.

The leaves and grass started to sparkle in the light of a third quarter moon. Oblivious to the extra time they were taking to learn about each other, as he really didn't have the time to spare on his run. They walked for the better part of an hour until they came upon a bench, on which they sat down and made some idle chat before she fell asleep on his arm. He waited for a little while to make sure she was asleep fully then picked her up and carried her back to the truck.

With a great deal of effort, he managed to get her into the sleeper without disturbing her too greatly. He climbed into the cab, relieved on his new found family. And he thought about her incessantly until she woke up the next morning. All night he would reach back and touch her face or her hair more just to make sure she was real, than anything else.

He rubbed her back for a brief moment once during the night, like he remembered himself enjoying his mother to do as a child. It was then that he realized how tattered her clothes were. Blue jeans, a tee shirt, a jean jacket, and some worn out Reebok hightops that were coming apart at the seams, and that trench coat. She probably hadn't changed her clothes for months. But she seemed to be keeping them clean, she hadn't let herself go either. She was as well groomed as a child who might have just gotten home from school, let alone a child who had been hitchhiking across the country.

He had fantasies of what might become of them, and even some goofy ones that sounded more of knights in shining armor. And his new sister was the princess he was to protect from now on.

When she woke up that morning, he learned that she hadn't slept in almost a week, and that this was the most refreshing sleep she had experienced in almost a full year. Somehow that didn't surprise him. He was refreshed himself, and he hadn't slept a wink. Instead he had drove all night and they were leaving Texas going into the Oklahoma panhandle.

She offered to drive for a while, and for some reason it wasn't her underage, non-CDL status that halted him this time. The talk box had just issued a warning of a DOT in the area. At least they had warned his that it was nearly unmarked and had no light bar. If DOT got their hands on this bogus manifest and looked at his unfinished log book, they'd open the trailer, and Reileigh didn't want to put her through the hell he himself had been through from the last time. He nearly went in for life. And if they sniffed out that he wasn't only just running guns, but was harboring a preteen runaway, and crossing state lines with her, they'd bury him right at the edge of the road.

She noticed the fear almost immediately. And she closed her eyes.

The DOT directly ahead, and he was the only truck for miles. He was sure to get stopped. He passed the car sitting on the shoulder with all due respect, by signaling and moving to the hammer lane. And his fear was correct. The trooper pulled out and blue and red lights flashed from the grille. Monica jerked violently in her seat, and at the same time the hood flew up on the DOT car, shattering the windshield, rendering the car immobile. The panel then removed itself and ripped the antennas completely off of the vehicle. And Monica opened her eyes.

"How do you do that, sis?"

"I'll have to show you sometime, it's a little something I picked up from Tyli, she's into the Marshal Sciences pretty heavy. And scientifically she explained it to me, that all we have to do, is bring our subconscious to divulge on certain frequencies, and once mastered, which I have not totally, yet, can expose the weakness of any object, so that I can lift it, make a hole in it, run it off the road, etc. I cannot see, however, the extent of the damage, until after it has been performed, thus your flat yesterday, coupled with the fact that you controlled the outcome better than I anticipated."

"But, why did your father see fit to train you, girls and, I guess, your brother too, so heavily?" Reileigh fidgeted in his seat at having such wisdom sitting next to him.

"Why not? I mean the stronger the command, the stronger the force. Most of our tactics have come from history, many of which from the Bible. Because, God is the Commander and Chief of all tactical geniuses. And when you learn that you can trust Him for your counsel, who could possibly stand in your way?"

"Your not going to get religious on me are you?"

She chuckled at him, "Why not?"

He smiled at himself. For more than just one reason, she laughed. It was something he knew she hadn't done in a long time, she smiled and it was almost like her face broke, she had almost forgotten which muscles to use to smile with. But it made her so much more the beautiful. It did him good to hear the giggles in his passenger seat.

"Sis, I hope I can make you do that more often." He looked away from the road to gaze into her eyes.

With the smile still on her face, she looked at him and touched his cheek with her finger tips. "Ry, thank you for being you. I'm not sure how to handle you. I'm just so, so... I'm just enjoying this so much. I've missed being happy."

He turned back to the road, almost in tears. He felt so attached to her, how was he ever to let her go back home? Maybe he wouldn't have to. Turn her abusive parents in to DHS. Yeah, that's it. But what would it do to her? That might destroy her. And he did not want to hurt her, ever. So, he decided to just roll with the punches for now.

"I want you to just be a little girl for once in your life. And I want to be me for once in a very long time. When this run is over, I'm taking you to some places, you know Disney, Mt. Rushmore, the oceans, Canada, Mexico, maybe some islands, Europe, Asia, South America, just all over. I've got quite a little bit of money squirreled around in different places and we can run a long time on that." He looked back to her hopeful eyes, "I just want you to be happy. I think for the first time in a very long time I can actually say that I care for anyone, sis. I haven't told anyone that I loved them in a long time and really meant it. And Stamonikesha, I've come to love you in a very short time. I don't know what I'm feeling. And it's not like I haven't had girl friends, you know, but this is totally different. I've never been this way before, I mean listen to me, I'm babbling! I don't do that!"

"I think I know what you mean. Reileigh, um, I don't know either. I just don't have the words. But I think I love you too, I mean I've heard it said in the movies by people making out, but this is just too good. I don't want to sound foolish here but this isn't a make-out kind of love. I just don't understand it." He could see the confusion in her eyes, and on her face. She was starting to fear the pain in her heart, about his plans not working. She wanted to go with him on his escapades. But...

Pulling in to a warehouse in Tulsa, Oklahoma, the pair donned their protection. He stepped out first, and as soon as he had the door closed a strange man appeared toting a very large pistol.

"Where's my daughter, Sir Reileigh?"

"Mr. Chandler, sir?" Ry squinted trying to see the resemblance.

"Yes, now give me my daughter." The man cocked his head to the side, wondering why there was any delay.

"Um, not to be disrespectful of you sir, I'm not sure if I could get her to do that. She has a very free will, and she would probably kill me for betraying her."

"Who are you more afraid of, boy, her or me?" Chandler was obviously getting aggitated.

"Her, sir. I've come to love her like a sister, and I couldn't betray her trust."

"Admirable, a quaint trait, very admirable. But that still does not give me my child back." He chuckled at the absurdity of this kid trying to take reponcibility for his own child.

"I'm sorry, sir. If she wants to come forward she will. But I won't give her up."

"That is a serious mistake, Mr. Anders. Very serious indeed. You see, you have now betrayed your employer and could be considered to have kidnapped his daughter in order to further your job opportunities, here at the GUP."

"So be it." Ry squinted again to emphasize to point.

"Wait," and the passenger door slammed shut. "Give him his car back, and allow his job here to continue, and I'll come home."

"Listen you little brat, how dare you even think of bargaining for his life, let alone his job. He's made some very serious enemies now, none the less of them, ME. So who do you think you are to try to reason with your master."

"Sir, with all due respect, and that respect is diminishing rapidly, she is your daughter. You're not her master, you are her father, and you will treat her and her sisters, AND brother, with the dignity they deserve or I will have them all to myself. There is always someone better than you. And I believe that you have now found your match." And for emphasis, he now delayed the, "Sir."

"Oh, really?" Chandler smugly chanted as he advanced.

Monica stared on, terrified, "Ry, you don't know what you've done."

He waved his hand in her direction, index finger extended, as if to quiet her. And he advanced as well.

Ry laid the shot gun on the bumper of the truck. Chandler set his pistol on the loading dock next to him. They stalked closer, each studying the other's moves carefully.

Chandler rushed in first, and was easily dodged. Ry swung both of his arms into a tight circle around himself in a windmill fashion. He gained enough momentum, so that on the next round he jumped, swung his legs around Chandler's waist, locked himself on with his legs, face to face with Chandler, and swept his upper body backward between Chandler's bull stanced legs so that when he got through the legs he would be facing Chandler's feet and landing on his knees. Effectively pulling Chandler's face to the ground. Ry fell backward pivoting at his knees, head plummeting into the back of Chandler's neck while swinging his elbows extended behind him into Chandler's sides. He felt the ribs give harshly, sounding similar to the crushing of a watermelon. He then pulled himself up, and foreword to his hands, jumping up, pulling his feet from under Chandler.

"I warned you, old man. Now to save your family from themselves."

Gasping for air, "where do you think you'll run to?"

"Anywhere it takes, Chandler, anywhere you aren't." He turned back hastily, "Oh, and this little girl of yours is now my sister, so `Hi, Pop.'" raising one eyebrow, and smiling smugly.

Chandler watched, wild eyed, as the two of them got into the Peterbilt and backed out the door. The room filled with bodyguards who were told to wait outside.

"After them!" He wailed quietly, gasping for every breath.

The room filed back out and tires screaming and lights blazing occupied the street outside the door.

Reileigh, using the clutch rather than powershifting, bolted through the 18 speed gearbox.

"We've got to find a safe place to loose this trailer. It's too much weight. We'll never outrun them." Sawing on the wheel to keep the rig from damaging the traffic that he was scampering through.

"I know a place. And it's one of Dad's. Guaranteed that he wouldn't even think to look under one of his tax right-offs for his bread and butter. But you've got to let me drive." Her eyes were deep and deadly glazed, she knew her business. He nodded and started to slide out of the seat. She slid in behind him and as he lifted his foot off of the accelerator, she stomped it. As she now kept her eyes riveted to the mirrors and road ahead, she switched on the emergency flashers and tilted the wheel down to her level. He grabbed for the belt as she was now doing about twenty more miles per hour than he was. And she held the cab and trailer to the road, like she had been driving it for thirty years.

She weaved out of traffic like it wasn't even there, some close calls but she didn't even scratch the vehicles going by. The professional drivers behind her however...well, that's quite a different story.

Seven cars, each of the equivalent to the Highway Patrol's favorites. An Impala SS, two police Camaros, a Navigator, two Suburbans, and a 3000GT following close behind, but lagging because for some reason they weren't making it through the traffic as well as the long conventional tractor and 60 foot trailer.

"Can you concentrate enough while driving to do your Chi thing?" He squirmed at the fact that they should have gotten rid of the antagonists before he turned the driving over to her. She shook her head, not even once taking her eyes off the traffic ahead and beside her.

Bright-lighting every car that got in her way, she'd go by as they got out of her way, and then pull back in behind her. While the posse, didn't get the same courtesy. They spent a lot of time waiting for other cars to pass. However, the further they got out of the city, traffic thinned, and it wasn't too awful long before the Impala, Camaros, and the GT had caught up with them. It was time to play.

Reileigh climbed out of the cab and maneuvered his way around to the back of the sleeper where he could catch them off guard with the Skorpion and his shot gun. And as he got into position, he opened a small hidden door that revealed an arm load of 12 gauge slugs, and shot. He filled his pockets and the chamber, and closed the door again. Meanwhile, she had succeeded in keeping them behind the trailer by swerving all over the road. He reached around the stack on the driver's side and gave her the thumbs up. She didn't slow but, she steadied up the jumping around.

The Impala was the first the make the mistake. Under the corner of the trailer, he could see the black car with it's windows down and guns shoved out the window. They knew better than to try to blow out the tires because this was a running truck, it's whole purpose was to be able to defend itself against police in a sting, the tires had been designed to run over a police block strip, a chain of tire puncturing, spiked blocks. Shooting then out would not have stopped this truck any time soon. The ignition was shielded from the tazer systems employed by some specialized police forces too. The truck was virtually impregnable, and in a tight spot the trailer was set to be detatched at a moments notice and a stash of C4 detonated by a timer would keep the vehicle from being traced easily.

Ry pulled back and loaded the firing chamber on both the Skorpion and the shotgun. He would use the shotgun more as he had no more shells for the Skorpion.

The Impala pulled up, bewildered and cautious that she had not tried to run them off the road. But they still came. Inching up along side the armored fuel tanks, the cabin came into full view, and Reileigh filled the passenger side of the car with shot, four times.

He must have hit the driver too. The Impala tried to run up under the fuel tanks. Reileigh managed to grab a weapon from the front passenger, before the car hit the truck again and then headed for the center median of highway 412 in a shower of sparks.

The new weapon was a H&K 9mm. Good, he had some shells for it in the ammo box at the back of the cab. They were shorts but, they'll do.

A Camaro and a Suburban approached from both sides. She swerved but they managed to come up to the truck's defense area.

The Camaro on the driver's side and the Suburban on the passenger's side. Reileigh emptied the clip of the H&K into the engine bay of the truck as Monica did likewise with her pistol into the cabin of the Camaro. Both vehicles went for the ditch nearly at the same time.

The remaining Suburban made it's approach, however this time they tried to get ahead of the truck in the west bound lane. Dodging traffic but keeping up with the truck and managing to volley the slugs from the shotgun. Meanwhile the Navigator had been working on getting loose some men onto the back of the truck, and the GT was continuing the pursuit as a blocker. The highway patrol had become involved, red and blue lights and sirens screaming.

The pursuit, while lasting only a few minutes at these speeds, had brought them nearly 30 miles. The turn off for the Cherokee turnpike was ahead, and the lanes merged into one road. She remembered that old scenic 412 was too curved to handle at these speeds but the posse would be able to catch them easier on the four lane turnpike. So old 412 it was. But now she had to contend with the truckload of men in front of her. The back window opened. She could see weapons getting poked out the open area. Powderflash. She ducked below the wheel just enough to still see. Sparks of hot metal lit up the front of the tractor. The Christmas tree lights were going out all over the nose. She lost all of her forward lamps.

She went down two gears. A warning to Reileigh more than anything else. She hit the Jake brake on full engine and as the engine bellowed, she stomped the brake pedal. Smoke erupted from under the trailer as it's tires got flat spotted. The Navigator dove under the trailer peeling the top and hood back like a sardine tin. The GT rearended the Navigator at nearly 95 miles per hour, wedging both vehicles tightly under the truck. The Navigator's bumper now touched the trailer's far rear axle, and the GT had pushed the Navigator's axle underneath the rear doors. At least ten men dead in a split second.

She lifted the Jake brake switch and ran through the gears. Sparks ejected madly from the rear of the trailer as she pulled the two mutilated vehicles along with her. Around the first corner she broadsided the Suburban that was turning around in the middle of the road, disabling it and most of the men in it. It lay broken and helpless at the side of the road.

Pitch black, with the only lights coming from the light bars that still pursued. Luckily there was not much traffic. Once in a while, the police would be slowed by parts coming free of the two cars being drug behind, and when Reileigh was safely in the tractor, she pushed it around some corners, bringing the trailer wheels off the ground on one side. When she could feel it starting to go over, she nudged the air brakes and floored the accelerator, and swinging the steering wheel toward the lean bringing the wheels back down. It took three corners like that to dislodge the unwanted cargo.

Free of the added weight and friction she now could speed freely. She entered the town of choice at around midnight, turned right at the second stop light and drove into a warehouse on the end of the street. It was empty. She jumped out and pulled the door down as the light from the multicolored bars passed the intersection.

There was no way of just dropping the trailer and driving off with the tractor now. Checking it over with a flash light, the radiator was letting off pressure at about thirty different holes, no lights, no windscreen, and she had overheated one of the turbines, which in turn bowed out.

"Well, I guess we're on foot from here." He looked into her expended eyes, still bold and strong and could have continued like that all night, but exhausted.

"Yeah, I guess. Unless..." She looked out the window on the firedoor that exited the front of the building. "Okay, there we go." She pointed to a house on the corner of a cross road. A shabby two story with some kiddie toys out front, but had an entire arsenal of cars out front: a `55 Chevy Nomad, a `76 are Corvette, an `85 Mustang with some extensive body and obvious suspension modifications, and a `95 Chevy 454SS pickup with an injector hood displayed out of the hood.

"American priorities are wonderful aren't they?" Reileigh opened the trailer doors as Monica went to get the Mustang. She was as much talking about her father as anyone else.

He drug some of the crates around and opened them. Some were money and some were guns and ammo. He grabbed up about ten stacks of hundreds and shoved them in his pockets, which were still of course full of shotgun shells. He unpacked six 9mm UZI, and twenty or so boxes of ammo and set them on the ground.

She found the car unlocked but it had a microwave sensor guarding it. Climbing under the car she disconnected the siren mounted in the conventional spot under the hood, and found the horn relay right next to it. "Very sloppy." She whispered, "Remind me to get the address of your installer. I'd love to take his insurance company up the river." To avoid upsetting the starter relay she jumped through the window on the passenger's side and, sure as the world, the control module was right under the dash. And right next to that was the fuse box where she pulled all unnecessary fuses which in turn disabled the module. And just like any backyard audio installer, there were screwdrivers all over the place under the seats.

She grabbed a slotted driver, punched it into the ignition keyhole and turned it. Though not enough to start the car, just enough to unlock the wheel. Not knowing how loud the exhaust would be, she put the car into neutral, got out and pushed the car down the driveway. She then jumped in and with the car still rolling, turned the screwdriver one more notch, put the car in reverse and let out slowly on the clutch. The car rumbled slowly to life. With the fuses out of the box, there were no lights, including backing lamps. Once into the street, she let the car into first and slowly let out the clutch at idle. The tires slipping on loose gravel kept the loping cam from killing the engine.

She pulled back up to the door of the warehouse and climbed out.

Reileigh opened the garage door enough to walk through and started piling the boxes and guns into the back seat. Closing the door when he finished, she wrote down the location of the building and they headed down the road stopping at the house where the car was stolen. Reileigh counted out about eighty thousand dollars and piled it into the seat of the Corvette.

They took off and went to a SavMart on 68 highway (old 412). Monica looked up the number for the local police and called saying she was a little girl that couldn't sleep and saw some one messing around with the warehouse, and then took off in one of her family's cars. Gave them the address of the building and she hung up when they asked her name.

"Come on there's a small town on the other side of the turnpike that I know of a place where we can hide for a while." Monica pointed him to the highway and then directed him to turn left on the 412 on ramp. They put the fuses back in and headed on their way.

He followed her instructions, and drove on until he reached the toll gate, which he paid, and continued on, passing a little river community and continuing on until he crossed the state line into Arkansas, at a little speck on the map called Siloam, there he pulled into a grocery store parking lot and they slept until the sun rising woke them up. They found a back road, put the hood up, and reconnected the alarm with an internal shut off switch. They drove to a station and filled up the car and got a package of powdered doughnuts and two bottles of Dr. Pepper.

She then directed him to a small house in town on a block that looked to be about twenty houses deep. "It's owned by my father but he wouldn't know to look here until he gets out of trouble for the guys last night and the diesel sitting in his garage, and the stolen car, if they report it stolen." They pulled the Mustang into the garage. "This is a stop house." She lead him to the cellar, filled with guns, and tools.

The tools included a paint outfit for changing the color of the car, a laptop computer which was conveniently hooked into the motor vehicle department, along with inspection stickers and new tags for the car.

Over the next day, Reileigh proved to her just how talented he was, as he doubled the hardener in the paint so that it dried almost before he could get a panel painted. He then added on to the dark blue, a set of white racing stripes, canted to the driver's side. They then bagged some pistols and taped them to the undercarriage in various places. He broke the code and rebuilt the garage door opener to operate the car alarm. She wired up a switch for the accessories and another for the starter so it wouldn't look so bad starting the car in town with a screwdriver. Then she moved a power door lock solenoid to open the trunk as they broke the lock to get it open. So then they reloaded the guns, ammo, and money into the trunk. They then degreed the cam and retuned the spark curve. When finished, the car likely put out of about 400 horsepower.

They then loaded up the laptop computer, and it's accessories. Building in a rack for the computer to sit right above the shifter, slightly shifted to the passenger side. Of course, a well endowed laptop unit, I would be capable of doing anything they needed from the car.

Then they went to town. Reileigh led her to believe that he was going to Radio Shack to get some more electronic toys for the car. But his first stop was JCPenney's.

"What do you think you're doing Ry?" With a look that bordered on anger.

"What does it look like? Sis, I'm going to get you some new clothes." Said Ry, with a coy gleam in his eye.

"Why do you think that you have to spoil me?" Still on the verge of blowing, yet a hint of a tear as well.

"Oh, well that's a switch. When you first met me you told me I was immature, and now that I want to take your family's place, you won't let me. Who's being immature now, Monica?" She could tell he was hurt by her own pride, so she headed for the door of the mall. "No! Not just because I feel like I just got crapped on Monica. It doesn't work that way either."

"I'm sorry. I just don't know how to take someone being nice to me anymore. Take your time Reileigh, I'm not going anywhere. And don't you think of leaving me either. Brother." She held out her hand to him.

He walked to her, unsure, but he took her hand anyway and they walked in together. They strolled straight to the girl's section in the back left corner. She stood, almost embarrassed, looking at the clothes on the racks. `Something cheap' she thought to herself but, everything she liked she figured was too pricey for Reileigh. He noticed her fondling some very cute little sun dresses and then putting them back down.

"Try some on, sis."

"I can't Reileigh, it's all too expensive. I don't want to run you out of money."

"You're not," his hand patted his watch pocket. "We could buy this place out if that's want you wanted. Anything for you. Anything you want."

So she entertained the idea. She grabbed up about four dresses, some shorts, a jean vest, a couple of tank tops, a sun hat, a ball cap from the boys department with Dale Earnhardt embroidered across the front, some necessaries, a tank suit, a bikini, and a few pairs of shoes. She was having a ball. She spent the better part of three hours trying on dresses and shortsets and swimming suits. But she settled on the original bunch. She piled them at the register and smiled at the clerk.

The sale was rang up and totalled at about three hundred dollars, which Reileigh gladly handed to the checker who was busy bagging the clothes and shoes. And hand in hand they walked back to the car. Piling the bags into the trunk of the Mustang, he gave her a small peck on the cheek. She turned before he had time to move and reciprocated on his lips.

"Thank you Reileigh, I haven't been so nice to since mom died."

"Don't worry about it sis, I plan to do this alot when we get settled in somewhere."

She blushed.

They trotted together to the electronics shop. She held his hand and did that little skip that little girls do. He thought that it might have been the first time she'd ever done that in her life. But she was very comfortable with him. And that was good, because he was really feeling good about this family thing.

He opened the outside door for her, and like the perfect lady, she went on in. Once in, they headed for the components in the far left rear corner. Grabbing an assortment of chips and capacitors and an arm load of resistors and a large array of security equipment. She ran to the computer section and grabbed up zip gig pack, two digital cameras, and a track-ball.

They continued up to the front desk and set the stuff down on the counter.

"Got a long day ahead, huh?" inquired the clerk from behind the desk.

"Yeah, were putting together a security system for our competition car." Reileigh spouted.