25 YEARS BEFORE SENTINEL 101
Chapter 1: Desperation
The young mother sagged weakly against the locked door of the used '72 Ford Chrysler. She whimpered, nearly stumbling while dragging an overly stuffed suitcase, slim hip jammed against the trunk.
"Lord, please--", she begged, jerking her head toward the sudden noise as her tiny one, tucked into a hospital blanket woke, crying, stuffed against the car-seat cushions.
"I'm comin', sweet thing," she groaned, smoothing loosened blonde tendrils back behind her ear. She clicked the trunk lid down. Just a suitcase, a jack, and a spare? That's all? Lord Gawd, how pitiful.
The incisions from the caesarian strained as she bent over, tender and exhausted from lugging her burden. She slumped from the ache needling her, right in her middle. "I'll be right there, swee' pea," she crooned, flinging her handbag on the hood. Wiping mist from her eyes, she found keys, slid them in the lock, and crawled knees-first behind the steering wheel.
The baby's rosebud lips quivered and tiny little fists beat against the thin white blanket. He puckered up his lips and began wailing. "Oh, baby boy," she murmured, scooping him up in her arms. "There, there, li'l darlin'," she smiled, kissing his sweet brow.
He rested quietly, confidently, against Mother's bosom. He nestled in her arms until his drowsy green eyes drooped in sleep.
"Be a good li'l boy for Mother, now," she whispered, settling him down again in the seat, bolstered on each side by pillows. "Mother's good baby," she praised, tickling his dimples. The baby settled into sleep.
She made sure that her wallet was in her bag she'd flung on the floorboard; it was all the money she'd managed to retrieve from her hiding place: the fake bottom of her aerosol hairspray can. Her cache of savings was poorly depleted from spending it last night on this plain, ugly, but serviceable car.
She'd known a friend of a friend of a cousin, who'd made her a no-questions-asked trade-in deal; he'd deftly changed the O into 8 and the F into E on her license plates too, plastering mud over his handiwork, winking at her, daring to rub his slimy hand over hers, pinching her wrist.
"You remember, now," he'd leered at her breasts wolfishly, "bout that favor you'll be owin' me."
The woman combed her hair back with trembling fingers, wrapping it in an elastic ponytail hair band. She doubled her smooth hands into white-knuckled fists. She sat there, wishing for a big strong male chest to sink into, to bury herself in its security. Mother's dreadfully crude adage of shittin' in one hand, wishin' in the other, "just see which one fills up first, gal," came back to her then.
"That's all right," she glared at the torn seat-covers and grimy, bug-splattered windshield. "I'm no quitter. Swear to God, he'll be sorry. I'll make George so goddamned sorry. Oh, he'll regret... no man does this to me... I’ll take my revenge when he least expects to see me... and rip off his balls..."
She backed out of the nondescript motel parking lot, drove out of Cascade, Washington, on the interstate heading south to California.
Miss LaRue, her mother's great-aunt, who'd taught her such old-fashioned things, crocheting, hemstitching, baking from scratch, when she'd needed mothering, had retired near the ocean, in some backwater town. "I'll find it," she told herself.
Shaking her head at the long-ago’s: Daddy'd come home, paycheck left in the cash register at Flinty's Bar, and Mamma shooin' her out the back door, away from his bellowing and violence. "Nobody remembers you, Miss LaRue, my baby will be safe with you."
A patrolman activated his lights, spurring after a speeder. Those lights, flashing, siren screaming, no-- She'd screamed.
The sun burning her, hurting her eyes. That day, then, no... why can't I forget?
Forget him pushing her knees apart, ripping holes in her panty hose, pressing wet kisses against her closed lips while tearing the collar of her blouse. "NO! George, not this way, I'm not on the pill." Running his hands between her legs, covering her belly; forget his urgent whispering, his demands, "Let me, let me," and she lying there silent against sticky upholstery of the back seat, sun beaming directly in her eyes, legs spread open...permitting the degradation, making her cry and arch against him, hating herself, hating him...
"Stop whining, just stop it, this instant," she longed to scream into the rearview mirror.
Behind Maude Stanton were her dreams of being a famous fashion designer, all dashed to hell by the cruel betrayal of a man. A man who told her that he loved her and wanted to marry her, and help her pursue her career. Instead of that he tore her heart out just as readily as her tore her blouse to fondle her nine months ago. George was a businessman; everything he did was strictly for business.
The business of getting her pregnant so that an empathic child would be born. Then that Goddamned GDP could come in and take her child away from her? "I hope you rot in hell," she bared her teeth at the road hog that swooped into her lane. "I’m not a brood mare, you bastard. Nobody's taking my baby boy. Nobody. I'll depend on myself. I'm keepin' you--I'll kill to keep you. Nobody will ever hurt you, little Ezra, the way they... he... did your mamma."
Drying tear streaks left tracks on her pale cheeks as her angry blue eyes were fixed on the traffic along the interstate. She patted the child's cheek gently, as she told him, "Don't you worry one whit, Ezra. You're mine. Won't let them get you. I am going to teach you to be strong, so strong you won't need anyone. Not even me."
COMANCHE RESERVATION IN THROCKMORTON COUNTRY
(2000 MILES AWAY)
Chapter 2: Home-coming
The woman eased out of the pickup cab, leaving two one-dollar bills next to the driver's hand. "For gas money," she said, dark-brown eyes pleading when he hastily shoved them away back across the seat in her direction.
"No. No ma'am," Joe Redwolf shook his head. "Wasn't out of my way none, you just keep your money. 'Sides, my grandfather and yours served in '44 together. Them stories he tells me? He owes your Grandpa Strongheart, big time, gettin' his cajones out o' the fire over there an'... an' all. He'd whup me, big as I am, even, if he know'd I took money for doin' you a favor like this. So--"
Troubled eyes, black as raven wings, stared back. Her mouth trembled a bit, before she spoke. "Thank you," she whispered, tucking the money in the top of her bag, and after clearing her throat, repeated, "Thank you, 'tai', for your kindness," and walked away, after shutting the passenger door.
Her feet touched the old blacktopped highway. She waved back as the teenager turned off into his own lane, honking his horn at her, as he passed the "First Nations: Keep Our Lands Clean, Please Don't Litter" road sign.
Her path diverted into a narrow, rutted dirt road, bracketed on either side by barbed wire covered in choking weeds and scrub brush. Young Bill WildHorse's clover fields awash in crimson and green, on her left, his neighbors, Richard and Hawke Johnson-Shooting Crows' pasture of fresh baled hay on the right.
When she heard the chuggin' of an old rattletrap Chevy slowing down at the highway, she braced her weight against the splintery fence post, "so tired, David..." she mumbled, thumbing a pebble from her bone-weary shoes.
One mile later, almost there, she leaned against a row of mailboxes, and checked on the light burden she carried. "I'm back. Oh, my love-- I didn't expect to ever.. come back without you..." she talked to herself, gazing about as the breeze picked up pine needles, scattering them in her path. "If they won't--" her lips set in a hard thin line, chin lifted stiffly.
Finally. She topped the rise and spied the ponies dancing with butterflies in the pasture, heard the milk cow calling her rambunctious calf toward the salt block, and watched carefully for the fluttering curtains at the open window.
The beautiful willowy Native American woman nervously stepped upon the homemade, weathered porch of her childhood home. Nothing changes, does it, Dad? Still looks the same as when I left, seems a hundred years ago, I was so defiant to marry the white boy, determined not to cry at your steely-eyed disapproval, and Mama, can't forget her choking back tears, calling me "outcast".
So terrified of leaving home for the first time, and believing she'd never be able to come back here, or have any sort of welcome.
She turned around, tilting her face upward to the lofty Sierra Diablo peak. "From whence cometh my help," She remembered Sister Agnes from RedHawk Mission telling a stubborn, little rebel that 10 years ago, in the tiny mission school. "Remember that, child. Look up. Always look up. Don't dwell on past mistakes, or the pain and its troubles, just look up, child."
Afraid that her family would reject her and her child, she gazed at the snow-capped mountain and smiled in fond remembrance of her motto. "I'm looking up, Sister."
Raising her head up high remembering, too, that blood of warriors and chiefs ran proudly through her veins, Serena Tanner took a deep breath and knocked on the door and listened as heavy footsteps headed her way.
She watched, heart throbbing wildly in trepidation, as a tall handsome man opened the door. Serena saw his long black braid, now touched with gray, peek around his belt at the waist of faded jeans.
The man stood there in shock, stony mask melting away, at sight of the prodigal. His flashing coal eyes swept her head-to-foot. "'Hau', my daughter." He then moved swiftly to sweep his youngest child up into his arms, holding her as if she were as fragile as a dandelion in a gale. She clutched his shirt, arms spanning his shoulders, and tucked her face into the crook of his neck.
"Dad. Oh, DAD!"
He stroked his fingers over her long unbound hair, resting his chin against the top of her head.
It was only then that the child that was carried on her back made his presence known by a cry at being so rudely awakened. The father pushed his daughter away with wide eyes to turn her around so he could look at his first grandchild. The infant looked back at him challenging, daring to be accepted. The babe's beautiful blue eyes clouded over from the harsh sunlight after Mama's swift hand had taken the shelter of the little quilt away, to reveal his beauty.
Serena unlaced the kicking child from the cradle, kissed his fat cheek and wisps of light hair, and gave him over to her father's embrace.
Iron Eagle chuckled, "'Hitakoja'-- my beautiful grandchild," he gently picked up this little warrior that looked only to be two months old, but even at this young age he felt the future power that rested in him.
His great-great-grandfather, old Two Arrows, in the olden days when their people had roamed the lands of 'Tejas', had been a watchman, and his great-grandmother, Gray Dove, had been bestowed from the Spirits with the gift of prophecy. Their blood ran true in him. He knew without a doubt that his daughter had returned home mother of a sacred Guardian Warrior.
Gently he cradled the child in his arms as the baby played with the large man's hand. He gurgled and smiled up at his grandfather, fascinated by the turquoise necklace that glinted in the sun.
"Dad, this is your grandson: Vincent Strongheart Tanner." Her voice broke as she told her father, "David … David died … We were planning to, he.. and I... to ... ask for your forgiveness... Oh, if you knew how they... the GDP had hurt him... how he... oh, may 'Tunkasila', Great Spirit, give me strength, Dad..."
She looked up, at her mountain, letting it give her the strength to continue on. "When he phoned me... they'd beaten him, crushed the life out of him... I was working in a little truck stop-diner. David told me to take Vin and run." She wept, covering her face with her hands, tears leaking between her fingers. "With his dying... breath, he protected us, by giving me time to take Vin and sneak away. I didn't even have time to kiss him goodbye... just run away from those monsters."
Wrapping his arm around his daughter, the man turned towards the house. "Don't worry. Serena," he wiped at her tears with his callused fingers "You and my beautiful grandson are safe here. I swear it. They cannot touch you here. They will not. I am a Wolf Soldier of the First Nations, your mother carries the Sacred Banner of our people, your 'tah mah' is Teacher of Watchman and their Guides. None of these Guide Development Program filth," he spat on the ground, "or these pale 'wanagi' ghosts that attempt to steal children, and murder young fathers will stand against our family, or our nation."
He called to his family inside, "Come. Come out and see the daughter who was once lost to us, and the new babe!"
5 YEARS LATER
Chapter 3: Dreamworld
The trees in the forested valley were arrayed in a myriad of autumnal tints, flaming fires, and sunshine golds, deep Indian red and crimson leaves, blending magnificently with the oak brown, nutrias, mahoganies and seals of the trunks and branches. The floor was not just green; it was vibrantly alive, emerald, mossy, and myrtle, carpeting the rich earth.
A rippling, swift stream wound a passageway through the beeches, hemlocks, and pines. Waving fronds of willows dipped deeply into the bubbling water, casting inviting shadows for rest.
He padded downward, snuffling the lush clover and tiny starry wildflowers that were springing up among the grasses, to the stream bank, where he crouched and lapped the sweet, clear water.
What was that? Swiftly, he turned, to the pine tree at his left. Focusing intently, he concentrated on the brown, shaggy creature, spying at him from behind the cluster of needles. He snorted.
Come down from there! I see ya. Who can possibly hide from a cougar? Who are ya? It looked like a tiny bear cub, a chubby body covered in chestnuts and dark brown fur, with short legs, and a quite bushy tail. He sniffed, smelled: Male, young, shy, teasing, quarrelsome, deadly.
The animal grinned, then smirked. I am a wolverine... you ninny. Don't you know?
Large padded feet, ten razor-sharp claws embedded into the tree branch, removed themselves. The little fellow climbed down, dropped smoothly, and strolled to the cougar-kit's side. Not afraid of me, are you? I am a predator! King of This Forest! You are an intruder, and I kill trespassers, don't you know? I rip and render them apart with these very fine claws.. um... I'll grind you, he opened his mouth to show finely honed fangs, up for my meal, I will.
Cougar stepped right into little Wolverine's space. He could not roar, wasn't his nature, but he spit and growled. He reached out his paw, and gently smacked Wolverine on the cheek.
Not scared of a tiny li'l thang like you. I'll bat you around, like I do hares... there's one li'l jackrabbit hiding in a bush 'bout twelve feet from us... wanna see what happens when I attack? Before.. you know, experience it for yourself?
Wolverine hastily backed a few steps in retreat, I am not frightened, you're just a kitten, like me. Mama taught me how to hunt, how to pounce down from a tree, to pulverize my enemy, so it can't get away. I stick on his back, and just wait. I'm not particular, either. I'll just wait till a big old bear or moose gets you, then...
Cougar chuckled, Might have knowed you was a scavengar.
Wolverine blinked his emerald eyes. It's what I am. Can't change my nature, can you? Do you eat mice, want to hunt with me... I've never hunted with anyone... my Mother taught me how to hunt, then left me all alone... I don't really like to hurt others... but I have to defend myself, don't I? They... everyone... all hate me so much, and I don't know why I can't make friends with other wolverines, but nobody wants to hunt with me.
Cougar laughed at the non-stop rattle, replying, Could be just 'cause you're so dern ornery.
Wolverine growled in mock-anger, but cheered up considerably when Cougar announced, Let's you and me be friends.
Wolverine chuckled, Is there a place for a wolverine in a cougar's world? The line dividing our species is deep and wide.
Cougar raised his head, and snarled at the early morning mist drifting from the faraway, unreachable mountain tops. You like to talk like you're King of the pride, don't ya? Where'd ya learn to talk with all them big words? Ne'er mind, wolvie, you can tell me later. Let's go play.
Wolverine hid his nose in the soft fur of his friend's shoulder, enjoying the new tickling sensation. Cougar, do you know how to play? I don't... Mother never allowed me to play... that is... I've never been allowed to become acquainted..."
He stopped chattering, tumbling onto his back joyfully, as Cougar rubbed his muzzle along the luxuriously velvet fur of his open belly.
Let's be friends, wolvie. I'm lonely, too. I've got lots of family, but they don't play with me... I'm diff'rent someway, I think, my pride all watch me... waitin' for somethin' to happen to me. I think I’m not an ordinary Cougar.
He touched Wolverine's nose with his own in a moist, sweet kiss. Their eyes met, and Cougar felt himself melting away into warmth, joy, and precious sunshine. A woodpecker hammering on a tree broke the spell, and he nipped Wolverine's funny ear. Let's go.
Wading into the stream, Cougar called, Come on, Wolvie, let's play Catch the Fishes, and splashing together, into the rushing waters, struck with clumsy claws among darting fish and minnows, and when that grew tiring, they caught several waxen lilies and half-submerged bits of dead leaves.
Tired, they crawled to the bank, rippling off water from fur, collapsing on all-fours, resting tired, panting bodies in the tangling curtains of ferns and wallow of forget-me-nots, pansies and extravagantly painted hepaticas.
Cougar shifted to his side, stretching out his claws, chewing his nails, surprised to see Wolverine scuttling to the wild red-berry bush behind the ring of silver beeches, digging into the soft dewy earth. He came trotting back, dropped half of a freshly killed mouse into Cougar's paw. You hungry?
Cougar snapped it up, his jaws making quick work of the succulent. Thanks, pal. Fishin' is hard work.
Wolverine was pleased at his friend's appreciation, and crawled back to his side, snuggled into his new friend's warmth. Sleepy.
Cougar wrapped himself around the little one, soft fur tickling his whiskers, and gazed at the purple dragon-flies whisking over the water, up at the swallows and robins calling their mates, listened to the droning bees buzzing among the cattails and reeds, the flitting hummingbirds racing among the apple tree blossoms, and drowsed, winking at the water bugs scampering along the surface of the water.
He lay his chin across Wolverine's shoulder, I love you, cocking his hear to make certain nothing dangerous was rustling among the trees, opened his eyes widely one last time, focusing on shadows that could turn into enemies, and finding nothing but dancing wind, and the scent of his companion's sweet musk, he wound himself securely around his friend, and drifted into sweet sleep.
Vin woke up, stupefied for the moment at the loss of warmth from the embrace. He turned over, feeling for a ghost in his small bed.
Ezra woke, crying. "Mother? Oh, please... where was I... oh don't leave me... come back..." He clenched his jaw, huddling under the cold comfort of double quilts, and sobbed into the folds of the pillow.
Vin could not breathe. He struggled for air--
Ezra beat the middle of his chest with his fist. The cold hard lump was right there--- He gasped--
Vin shuddered, begging, pleading, "Stop cryin', please stop..."
Ezra stuffed his knuckles into his mouth, whimpering, tears welling up, splashing the delicate wan skin. "Wh-- who are you, Cougar? Where can I find you again?"
Vin wiped his eyes on the pillowslip. "Hush now, hush up cryin', don't want to hear it, now." He rolled over in bed, steadying his bare feet upon the frigid hardwood floor. Grandmother was awake, stirring up the fire downstairs, singing her morning songs, waking the household.
"Our hearts are light
We are at peace
The sun is bright
We have love in our hearts
We live in peace"
Vin hid his face behind the fan of his trembling fingers, becoming more comfortable as the dream faded gently into memory.
Ezra viciously chewed at his thumbnail, bringing blood, lapping at the seeping jagged finger. He pulled the sheet, woolen blankets, and quilts over the top of his head, and stuck his thumb into the roof of his mouth. Securely under the pile of covers, he sucked it, taking the only comfort available besides tears.
The boy had told him to hush.
5 YEARS LATER AT WICHITA FALLS
58 Miles from Comanche Reservation in Throckmorton County
Chapter 4: A Friendship is Born
A little green-eyed boy of about 10 years old was being pushed around by a couple of older boys. The little boy and his mother had stopped for the night in the town before continuing on to the Dallas Airport and a flight to another part of the country. Bored the little boy set off to explore the small town only to have the misfortune to run into two bullies that were picking on a trapped cat. Feeling the pain of the tortured animal, Ezra helped the animal to escape but the two bullies, angry at losing their fun had turned on the animal’s rescuer.
The three boys became a ball of cursing, biting and kicking mass of squirming bodies as they fought one another. Ezra had landed a couple of good punches, for one of the bullies will be sporting a black eye while the other one will end up with split lip, but being one boy against two and being slightly smaller, soon had the young southerner pinned to the ground by the other two boys. One of the bullies pulled back enough so that he could raise his fist to hit the smaller boy but before the blow could land he was knocked sideways off his intended victim.
Ezra didn’t wasted any time and turned on the other bully that was holding him down. Using every street-fighting and dirty trick he knew he had the other boy running with his friend right after him. The green-eye boy quickly turned to confront the other boy left in the alley, just in case he had to fight him too. As the little southerner looked into the other’s large blue eyes he couldn’t look away, instead both little warriors stood there lost in each other’s eyes; feeling a connection neither of them understood, but knowing that for some reason they could trust the other.
It was only when Ezra saw that his rescuer’s lip was bleeding did he move and retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket. “You’re hurt!” Gently he touched it to the other boy’s lip only to feel tingling sensation traveling down to his finger to the rest of his body along with the feeling of safety and protection.
The other boy jerked at the tingling sensation that ran from the young southerner’s fingers down through his body. Along with that sensation were the feelings of comfort and trust that he never felt for anyone but family. Hesitatingly, he raised his hand and touched the bruise that was forming on the southerner’s cheek. “You are too! Are you all right— ”
“Ezra Standish.”
“Ezra? Never heard of a name like yours. My name is Vin … Vin Tanner.”
The two little heroes helped the other to straighten clothes and see to the little cuts and bruises. Once satisfied that neither needed to see an adult, had the two little boys wandering back to an old 54 Ford truck sitting in front of a hardware store. Vin led Ezra to the back and reached up to let down the tailgate. Jumping slightly, he crawled up onto it and then helped his new friend to sit beside him. Once Vin was satisfied that the other boy was settled he reached into a small cooler to pull out a bologna sandwich and a bottle of coke. Taking one half of the sandwich, Vin gave it to Ezra, who with a grin, took a bite. Both boys sat quietly looking at each other with shy smiles as they finished eating and sharing the soft drink.
Something in Vin wanted to mark the other boy as his. Being too young to know this need was the result of a Sentinel desire to mark his true guide as his, Vin removed his arrowhead necklace he had made himself to place over Ezra’s head. “I want you to have this Ezra. To remember me by.”
Ezra looked at the wonderful arrowhead that Vin had given him and something responded to that gift as he threw his arms around the other boy; startling both boys but had Vin pulling Ezra closer. Then as they moved reluctantly apart Vin pulled the other boy around to tuck him against hisside so he could rest his arm across Ezra’s shoulders.
The guide in Ezra responded to the bonding courtship by slipped the chain that held his uncle’s ruby ring over his head and placing it around his Sentinel’s neck. To stake his claim on Vin as his true protector while warning the other guides to leave him alone.
A half-hour later, Iron Eagle stepped out the door to see the two little boys sitting quietly and talking with one another. The older man looking through old eyes had to smile at how different both boys looked on the outside but how much alike they were in their spirits. His grandson’s long blonde hair was braided according to his people, wearing a pair of old blue jeans and an even older t-shirt. He could see the spilt lip and briefly wondered if the other boy did that to his grandson, but quickly discarded the idea as he saw that the other boy bore bruises. Knowing his grandson, Iron Eagle reasoned that Vin had rescue the other boy from trouble. Pride made him lift his head even more, for his grandson even at this age had taken the first steps in his destiny as a Guardian of the people.
The older man turned his silent study to the other boy. He noticed that the boy’s auburn hair was cut short and was a little messy now, but somehow he knew that normally it would have been neatly combed into place. The little pair of black pants and long sleeve green shirt was made of expensive material that spoke of money and position, but were dusty from the fight that both boys had been in.
Taking his time so not to startle the other boy, he walking quietly up to the truck to place his purchases in the bed of the truck, before walking over to his grandson. Giving the little stranger a nod, he placed a large gentle hand on his grandson, feeling the thin bones in his grandson’s shoulder and wondered briefly why they could never put weight on the child.
Iron Eagle’s attention was brought back from where it had wandered when the little red headed boy moved away from him, and he watched as a flicker of distrust flashed in those too old green-eyes and wonder who or what had put it there. Something in him wanted to take that little boy and protect him. Take him somewhere safe so that he could be a child instead of a little adult in a child’s body, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible. Speaking softly and not making any gestures that might scare the other boy he told Vin. “It’s time to go Vin. Say goodbye to your little friend.” Iron Eagle paused as he turned to give the little boy a friend smile, “Unless we can drop him off someplace?”
For a telling moment the little boy smiled at him before jumped down from the tailgate. Looking up at him the little boy told him in a thick southern accent, “Thank you Sir, but I can get back by myself.”
Vin then jumped down to stand next to his friend. Then in an act that surprise both Ezra and his grandfather, he hugged the southerner. “Bye Ezra,” he whispered as he started to draw away, only be drawn back.
Iron Eagle watched as the other boy threw his arms around his grandson and hugged him tightly. The child’s face was filled with such sorrow, as if he was losing something precious, but he then slowly let go. Ezra tried to smile but didn’t quiet make it as he said, “Bye Vin.” For a split second Iron Eagle though about just kidnapping the boy and taking him with them, before common sense reared it’s head.
Ezra watched as Vin crawled into the old truck and drove off. Vin leaned out of the door window, waving goodbye to his friend until the other boy was lost to his sight.
15 YEARS LATER IN SEATTLE WASHINGTON - 23RD PRECINCT
Chapter 5: Discovery of a Guide
Officer Harris watched as the chaotic atmosphere of the Precinct seemed to hit the pale man at his desk like a physical blow. The booking room was unusually busy and loud tonight as if the combination of the warm weather and rain had somehow turned the city of Seattle into a crime spree. Wincing as a couple of ladies of the night screeched their displeasure at being booked as they passed his desk, while all around him phones continue to ring as various conversations drown each other out.
Leaving Standish to reading over his statement, Harris got up and make his way towards the water cooler on the far side of the crowded room. Filling two cups he wove his way back as he saw a couple of prostitutes and the handful of female officers checking out the well dressed lawyer at his desk. He shook his head at the none too subtle come on from the women and mourned the good old days where men did the chasing. Setting the cup down in front of his witness, he took in the man’s pale completion and glassy eyes. Harris was too worried at how fast Standish’s heath seemed to disintegrate.
According to Mr. Standish, he was just leaving his office at Grace Corporation around 6:00 pm and heading over to his gym to work out, when the suspect came out of the darkness waving a 9 Millimeter in the lawyer’s face.
The perp must have figured that Standish would be an easy mark and jumped him, but he got a nasty surprise. Harris smiled as he remembered seeing the registration of a Seventh degree black belt in Ninjitsu, that told of this Standish’s deadliness with both his hands and feet.
Upon seeing the gun, Standish reacted by stepping to the right as he captured the gunman’s wrist, breaking it in one swift move. The pain made the mugger drop the gun as Standish swept the con’s feet from under him to land him on his face. Standish then placed his attacker in an arm lock, preventing the mugger from moving or leaving the scene of the crime. Once the robber was secured, the lawyer calmly called 911 to report an attempted robbery. He then waited calmly, till the police showed, all the while being subjected to verbal abused by his captive. Standish released his mugger into their custody when they arrived on the scene of the attack. The mugger left with two fellow officers to go to the hospital, while Harris and his partner took the victim in to get his statement.
Once at the station, Harris turned over the gun to forensics to see if that gun had been used in two unsolved mugging murders that were on the books. In his gut, Harris, believed that Standish saved his own life by taking down the mugger, for he had a feeling that the gun retrieved in this case would be the same one used in those robberies.
Harris’s attention turned back to his victim in time to see Standish starting to sway. Thinking that the victim was showing all the signs of shock, Harris started to reach for Standish; hoping to steady him before taking him to the emergency room and before the poor man passed out. As his hand was about to grab hold of the well dress man, his wrist was capture in an iron grip.
Looking up Harris started to snarl, “What the h—”. Before he came face to face with the cold eyes of Detective Sentinel Sterling.
The quiet command of, “Don’t touch him.” Was issued by the Sentinel.
Confused, Officer Harris asked, “Why?”
The Sentinel’s face didn’t change but his eyes soften. “He’s a guide and by the looks of it he just came on-line.”
Harris turned to his victim as he watched the Sentinel’s guide wrap her arms around the victim’s shoulders helping the man up off the chair. Harris looked on in disbelief, for this well groom man, who was wearing a suit that would take half of his year’s salary to buy, was a guide?
The nurses passed quietly in and out of the room checking to make sure that the guide was resting comfortably, with the help of some sedatives to help him rest after the near collapse of his shields.
Many of the nurses though it was a pity that such a good-looking and obviously rich man was a guide, for all that would end when his sentinel claimed him. One of the nurse’s had dismissed the man and snickered at what would happen to put the rogue guide in his place. She figured that it was a waste of her time to be bothered by such a creature and wondered when she could get out of the guide ward, to work with Sentinels.
Their patient was obvious to their pity and contempt for he was lost in what he thought was a dream world far from Seattle. In fact, Ezra wasn’t really dreaming, but spirit walking, trying to pull his long-time imaginary friend and protector Vin Tanner from a serious zone out in Dallas.
His mother’s continuous fear of the GDP and what they would do to him kept him from reaching out to anyone. Relying on himself , as his mother drilled into him every day since he was a toddler. His mother taught him to be strong and sought out ways to make sure that he could protect and look after himself. The years of instruction with various martial arts improved his concentration as well as physical development, while the learning at the feet of different Buddhists and Shaolin priests, who helped him to explore and control his gift of empathy. Even the military and exclusive boy’s schools had a purpose, to help improve and challenge his mind, while building connections to some of the most wealthy and powerful families in America and Europe.
But he was always alone, for every two years was sent to a different school in a different part of the world so that the GDP couldn’t track him down. He never stayed long enough to become true friends with anyone. Alone during the day, but at night, at night he had his dreamtime friend Vin. Every night since they had last seen each other, Ezra had constantly dreamed about the other boy that he last saw fifteen years ago. At first the dreams were simply that of a lonely little boy who wanted a friend so very badly, but couldn’t have one because he couldn’t let anyone know he was a guide. In the dreams they played as little boys do, climbing trees and anything else that can be climbed, fishing and swimming in clear streams, and those wonderful talks as they lay under white cloud skies talking of what they had seen or did during the day. Or just to lie beside each other in silence and just enjoy being together.
As his body matured the dreams also started to change. Sometimes they were the carefree dreams of his childhood, but sometimes they have taken on a more sensual, exotic feel to them. It all started when he was fourteen and the night that he told Vin that he was a guide. He told the other teenage of his fears of what the GDP and Sentinels will do to him if he was ever caught. His fear of being beaten and raped by his Sentinel and forced to live in pain and slavery for the rest of his life. Never having the chance to see and do what he wanted to do or even have the basic freedoms that every American had. Ezra remembered how Vin held him as he cried until he was exhausted.
Then his fear when Vin confessed that he was a Sentinel. He remembered trying to strike out in an attempt to run and hide from the one who betrayed him. Screaming his rage, hatred and pain as he cursed the other teenage. Vin didn’t let go, instead he found himself on his belly striking the ground as the other boy held him there, as the Texan blanketed his body with his. Only when he was too exhausted to do anything did he feel the gentle hand that caressed his head and then heard the soft words of the other boy.
He heard Vin telling him that he wasn’t like the other Sentinels, for he was of the First Nations. That he was taught that guides are to -be protected above all else and given love, not to be used and abused. That guides were gifts of the gods and to hurt one was to be damned by the gods and by the people. That according to traditions, the Sentinels have to prove himself or herself worthy to the guide. Then the whispering pleading of Vin, asking him if he could be his Sentinel; that he would love and protect him.
He remembered turning over to look at Vin to see if he was speaking the truth. As he looked in his friend’s blue eyes he was stunned to see that the other boy was speaking the truth. Then Ezra noticed that the arms that held him to Vin made him feel safe and cherished not to imprison him as he first thought. Then something in Vin’s eyes changed as the other boy lowered his face and kissed him.
Ezra remembered his emotions were all over the place but the one thing he knew was that he liked Vin kissing him and as the other boy started to pull away he wrapped his arms around him holding him in place. He knew that he shouldn’t like Vin kissing him. That only fags and queers kissed other boys and he didn’t want to be anymore different than he was already, but he didn’t want that kiss to end. But like all good things he did and as Vin pulled away he saw the same confusion that he was feeling in the blue eyes of the other boy.
As the years went by Ezra came to terms with being bisexual and it helped to be able to talk to someone else who was going through the same thing even if it was only in a dream. In those dreams he and his dream Sentinel fell in love as they learned to made love on soft green grass or in pools of crystal clear water. Then to wake in the morning with evidence of the sensual dream on his body and sheets and crying because it was a dream and not reality.
That he would never have his dream Sentinel lover, that his life was empty and would remain that way if he wanted his freedom. But he would never trade those dreams, for they gave him a sense of peace and to know how it would feel to be love and protected. Those treasured feelings and dreams he kept close to his heart.
But this dream was different for he couldn’t see Vin but heard the panic in that beloved voice as he called to him to help him. Somehow he knew that his sentinel was in danger and needed him. Using the only avenue open to him he reached out to Vin through their bond pulling him back from what the danger he was in. Only when he felt that his Sentinel was safe did Ezra start to withdraw, but was stopped by Vin. Somehow the bond told Vin that he had been captured by the GDP.
Vin’s rage and fear for him flooded the bond and having the Sentinel wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly but something was tearing the apart. As Vin started to fade from the dream the other man told him to hang on. That he was going to come and get him and not to do anything stupid. Ezra promised Vin as the man finally faded from view.
Ezra woke briefly and dismissed the dream for that was all it was. He would play the hand that he was dealt with, but as soon as they let down their guard he would disappear. With the identities and various accounts he has set up for just this emergency he could vanish from the GDP scope.
He won’t be any Sentinel’s slave for there was only one Sentinel for him and that was Vin Tanner. Even if it was only in his dreams.
DALLAS, TEXAS - OVER 2,200 MILES AWAY
Chapter 6: Connections
Vin Tanner sharpshooter and Texas Ranger snapped out of the zone. A zone that Ezra helped pulled him out of, to see Chris looking at him. For a minute he blinked trying to figure out what happen when it came back to him. He remembered the moonlight playing off the barrel of a shotgun pointing at his best friend and team leader.
He tried to scramble around to see where his teammates were but was stopped by a commanding voice he knew calling his name. “Tanner.”
Vin turned to where that familiar voice came from to meet Captain Larabee’s hard but worried green eyes. “Don’t worry, everyone is alright … well mostly. JD’s hip had a little disagreement with a crate and we think Josiah broke a finger. The other’s are at the hospital with them. How are you?”
Tanner got shakily to his feet. He refused to look at his friend and boss as shame burned through him. His friends were hurt because he couldn’t keep his sentinel abilities under control. It was his fault.
He needed a guide and the only one that he wanted was his Ezra.
He remembered how the dreams started. How as boys they shared adventures, as they played among the trees and mountains of their spirit plain. How they climbed trees and rocks, fish and swam in the lakes and rivers, and talked about their hopes and dreams of the future.
He remembered the night that they confessed their secrets to each other and of their first of many kisses. How some of the nights had turned erotic as they explored their love for one another, only to wake up to the evidence of their passion in a bed all by himself.
Then one night his mother and grandfather tried to wake him from a dream, but couldn’t. Afraid that something had happened, Iron Eagle called upon Ravenwing to come and help. Vin recalled the shock of waking to find his uncle, mother, and grandfather sitting around his bed watching him with a bit of awe and fear. His uncle explained to him how dangerous it was to be doing a spirit walk at his age. Being a child he didn’t understanding until Ravenwing explained that his dreams weren’t real dreams but Spirit Walks. Vin remembered how shocked they were when he told them he had been doing this for four years. It was at that point his Uncle decided to increase his Sentinel studies to by taking him on as an apprentice Shaman so that he could learn how to communicate with the dead, to destroy creatures of evil and chaos, and most of all how to Travel in the Spirit Plain.
In those Spirit Walks he tried to explain to Ezra that what they were experiencing weren’t dreams, but the other boy didn’t understand and continued to believe that it was all in his mind. Knowing that he couldn’t change Ezra’s mind, Vin started to teach him what he had learned so that the other boy could protect himself in this realm.
Then came the night his mother had died. Ezra held him in his arms, as the other boy rocked him and whispered calming words, as he cried out his anger, hurt, and pain. How afterwards Ezra got him to talk about his mother and the wonderful times they had together and that had somehow called her to appear. With Ezra’s encouragement and love he got to say goodbye to her and tell her how much he loved her and to hear her tell him how much she loved him and how proud she was of him. Then to his and Ezra’s surprise she kissed the southerner and told him how happy she was that he was her son’s guide and mate.
Vin realized at that moment that Ezra was indeed his soul mate and that no one else would ever hold his heart, but he knew that it was too early to go and claim him in the waking world for they were fifteen and not ready for such a serious relationship. His uncle confirmed that both he and Ezra had a long hard road ahead but that they would know when it was time to claim each other.
So as the years went by, he shared his life with Ezra. Telling him all about this training as a Sentinel of First Nations, about his decisions to leave the reservation and join the army. His meeting of his first Non First Nations Sentinel and how Jim Ellison became his friend and Captain. They shared the pain when he found out that Ellison was MIA. His determination and persistence to get a unit together and go find his Captain and the other men of his squad paid off when he helped to rescue Jim after eighteen months. Then finding out about Colonial Oliver, another Sentinel, and his involvement in getting the drugs into the US. Only to find out that he had fled, killing his guide who tried to stop him.
He told Ezra why he couldn’t stand the army any more and left it to take a position with a special unit in the Texas Marshall’s under Chris Larabee. The unit’s job was to take down dangerous felons anywhere in the US and see to it that they stood trial.
Tonight they were assisting the DEA in shutting down Justin Thompson’s operation. He was one of four major drug providers in the southwest. He didn’t actually sell it on the street, no he just smuggled it in, using any means possible. All the while living the life of a wealthy playboy, not caring about the lives he destroyed with his drugs.
His job was to provide cover from above, for his team and the others involved in the bust. That was until he zoned. Somehow his Ezra reached through the grayness of the zone to reach him and pulled him out, as impossible as it seemed. But during that so brief touch he knew that the GDP had captured his lover and guide. He roared his rage, anger and pain in the Spirit Plain clutching his guide to his chest and told him to hang on for he was coming for him. Something was tugging him from the Spirit world and he desperately got Ezra to promise not to do anything until he could get away clean or until he could find him and claim him.
As he awoke from his spirit walk he promised that no other Sentinel would have his guide, for Ezra was his and only his. The only problem was that he didn’t know where his guide was.
DALLAS, TEXAS - OVER 2,200 MILES AWAY
Chapter 7: To protect a Friend and Guide
The ring of the phone woke William Ellison from his sleep. Sleepily he reached over to pick it up and groaned, “Ellison.”
A frantic male voice on the other end told him. “Will, this David O’Brien. The GDP has Ezra. Somehow he came on line as a guide.”
That woke Ellison up, because that young man was like a son to him and a loyal friend. “What do you mean he’s a guide?”
“He was mugged tonight and while at the station he came on line. He’s in the Seattle Mercy Hospital in the Guide Ward. The only word I got was that he was in some type of coma.”
“Ok David, keep an eye on him and let me know if there is any change. I’m going to get Dr. Claydove on the phone and see if I can get Ezra transferred down to Cascade. Shit!”
“All right Will. I will make sure that they don’t take Ezra anywhere. I’m not going to let that sadistic Kevin Speke get a hold of him. Just hurry Will. Hurry.” Then there was only silence as O’Brien hung up the phone.
Ellison switched on the light and quickly located the private number to Director Claydove and dialed it. Not being able to sit still he paced back and forth and the resemblance to his two Sentinel sons, Vincent and Jim was very prevalent. “Come on … Come on … answer the damn phone.”
A sleepy female voice answered the phone, “Hello…?”
“Joyce this is William Ellison. I need to talk to Adam.” He heard the woman waking up someone and a fully awake male voice came on the line.
“Will what’s wrong. Are Blair and Jim ok?”
Sitting down on his bed, William Ellison told him, “Blair and Jim are fine. Do you remember meeting Ezra Standish at the Guide and Sentinel committee in Washington last month?”
A confused voice answered, “Yes, but –”
Not waiting until the Director finished, Ellison overrode him. “He just came on line tonight. He’s in a coma at hospital in Seattle, Washington, right in Director Speke’s backyard. If we don’t do something now what happened to Blair will be a picnic compare to what that bastard will do to Ezra.”
“Shit! The two of them hate each other with a passion. Damn it. I’ll get the orders to transfer him to Cascade and have Commander Slater and Guard Gibb pick him up. He has to go through the training as a Guide, but he will be safe here.”
A tired Ellison rubbed his hand across his face as he acknowledged the remark, but he knew that in about two weeks he would have the permit to start training guides for high defense organizations. When that permit was in his hands Ezra would be the first guide to be taken there. That way he could protect the young man that was helping to change how guides are treated.
Director Kevin Speke greeted his secretary Mary McDonald and strolled into his office. Director Speke was a short man around 5’ 6”, thinly built and around forty-five years of age. Some would say that he looked like a rat or a weasel with a sharp thin face and nose, while his beady brown eyes where set close together, giving him a shifty look.
He settled himself in his chair and reached over to turned on his computer, as Mary brought in his coffee and reports. He picked up the first folder, to view a list of guides found during the night. Usually there weren’t any, but last night there was one. One name that brought an evil light to this man’s brown eyes.
His most hated enemy was now under his thumb. Ezra Standish was a guide. Now it was payback for all the slights and interference Standish had done to him and the GDP. Smiling he leaned back, enjoying what he would do to break the man that had cost him public embarrassment.
“You’re mine Ezra. Mine to do with as I please. None of your high power friends will come to your rescue; they wouldn’t want anything to do with you now. Now that they know what you are.” Smiling, he reached over to buzz Mary to tell her to have Guard Miles and Guard Tan meet him outside in 15 minutes. They had a rogue to retrieve.
Thirty minutes later Director Speke, along with the two guards got off on the ward were Ezra Standish was located. Pausing at the door, to savor the feeling of victory he opened the door to see the unmade bed. Snarling in frustration he made his way to the nurse’s desk. “Where is the rogue guide that was brought in last night?”
The head nurse looked up to view a man that she hated with a passion. A passion that each and every nurse’s and doctor’s station on this floor shared. They had all seen the damage that this man’s so called training had done to too many guides. This man was a menace, while the man that was brought in had their admiration for trying to help see this abuse stopped.
“Guide Standish was released into Commander Slater and Guard Gibb’s custody at 8:00 am this morning.” Nurse Sterling watched in glee as the man’s face went first white then red with anger and as he stalked away with his two personal goons.
Smiles were shared between every nurse at the station as they viewed the angry man’s retreated.
Commander Slater watched the unconscious guide as they drove back to Cascade and wondered at the changes that would occur when it became known who this man was. When Director Claydove had called him at two in morning he knew that something important was going on.
As Claydove told him about Ezra Standish he started to remember bits of conversations he overheard about a lawyer that was trying to get laws changed concerning guides. Somehow Standish had gotten hold of GDP medical information concerning guides showing their treatment at the hands of GDP officers and Sentinels. He then presented them to the senate committee working with the GDP with the help of some big name celebrities.
The End
