The Kentucky Riverbank Incident

Emily Vaziri's eyes started going down the road, to the snow-lined road up ahead. She should have never come back from Harrodsburg this way! Now, in her final semester at University of Kentucky, she was ready to get her degree and leave the state. It was all about Wildcats this, Wildcats that. Coming from California made her an outcast. Prematurely white hair did not help either-even though her hair was as strong and smooth as any on the head of the shampoo commercial actors. But, of course, after having to go by the alias Emily Vanderbilt for five years (to avoid 9/11 backlash), she was tired of having to conform to the British notions of American perfection. She wanted to be Emily Vaziri again, the business queen of Irvine, California. Then again, another hairpin turn in these Kentucky mountains pulled her back into the present, but then another hairpin turn and her Toyota slid over some unseen ice, through a guardrail, and careened down into the Kentucky River at high speed.

This was it!, she thought. All this studying of business and graphic arts was going to amount to nothing! Then, just as fast as it began, her terror was over. The car crashe dinto a large boulder on the river.

When the shock wore off, Emily could see she was safe. Another terror soon came to light. Four tall shadows walked toward her car. Were these the crazy hill people she had heard so much about? She reached into her glove compartment and pulled out a set of ninja stars. She had learned how to use them in martial arts classes. She was a first-degree black belt in Judo, so that was not a problem either. Now, did these men have guns?

They came closer to the car, not seeming to care if anyone saw them. As the shadows came closer, Emily could see that they were men, three of them with long hair. They wore black uniforms with high necked tunic jackets. They all carried flashlights, and one of them had a cape, and white hair. She guessed he was the leader. They did not stop coming up to the car. Emily was paralyzed, and broke into a cold sweat.

The four men surrounded the car-all of them with strangely mushy looks on their faces. The leader, standing by Emily's window, tapped on the glass.

"Are you okay? Can you speak?"

Emily screamed.

One of the other men chimed in. "She sounds as crazy as you, too!"

"Shut up, dickhead."

She pulled the keys from her ignition and shined the flashlight on the leader. He had long white hair, silvery green eyes and darker skin, just like Emily herself.

"Miss Vanderbilt, are you alright? You had a right nasty spill back there."

"I'm fine. A little cold, though."

"It happens. Would you like a hot caramel latte?"

Even though there did not seem to be a Starbucks for miles, Emily nodded. Emily's doppelganger mysteriously produced a commuter coffee cup with a pearly lavender outside and black rubber grip and top. When he handed the cup to her, it seemed to radiate a gentle heat. The latte inside was as hot as though it just came from a barista's hand.

"Y'all had a pretty big crash there. The helicopter will be here any minute. I just wanted to make sure you survived."

"Why? What's the big reason some hill people gotta stick their nose in my life?"

"You'll know the day after tomorrow."

A helicopter sounded overhead.

"Promise us this, my jewel. Don't try to tell anyone we were here. You were just stopped by a rock close to the river."

"Are you guardian angels?"

Just like that, they were gone.

She was kept for 24 hours for observation after suffering a concussion and bruised legs. The staff at UK Hospital was amazed she even survived, and that nothing caught on fire, considering the wreck her car became. After a report to a local news station, her parents came from Southern California to see her. After the initial shock to the staff that her parents were racially Iranian, and decked out in flag pins and red, white and blue clothing, they came up to the room. They spoke about how life was, and how things were getting along, especially in California.

"How are home prices in Dove Canyon?"

"Still rising. Listen, I know you want to go back to California, but here it seems like you are home."

"But father, I want to work with you!"

"Honey, I know. We want to come work here. Kentucky needs a few of us. Besides, do you realize how cheap real estate here is?"

"Do you realize how backward this place is?"

"I wouldn't say that. The days of 9/11 are coming to an end. Besides, we ourselves have turned in sleeper cells, remember?"

"Father, I'm sorry. I should have known people are less judgmental when they know us."

"Darling, I know."

After they hugged, Emily's father spoke up again.

"Darlig, there is something I have to tell you. I am not your real father."

"What?"

"It's true. We adopted you from an agency. It was run by four men and one woman who wanted to give five children away. You were they only natural Persian child there. Little did we know that you would inherit a mark of ancient royalty."

Emily remembered the four men at the scene of the accident, but said nothing of it. (Betraying your saviors is never a good idea.)

"What mark?"

"Why, it has been said a royal family under the Ottoman Empire had white hair, which was a mark of divine royalty."

"My hair?"

"It denotes wisdom well beyond your years. However, sometimes that wisdom is blocked by this fear of the unknown."

"Father, all my records at UK are under Emily Vanderbilt."

"I know. However, the very minute you graduate, you are to retake the name Vaziri. It is a name of honor."

Emily nodded.

Soon, she was released to her parents, who brought her to their hotel to make sure she could run well. At least the room was a suite, where she stayed out front while her parents stayed in back.

Her parents tried to keep their bedroom activities quiet, but Emily could still hear it.