CHAPTER FOUR

Did I say That?

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the long delay, my husband and I were hit broadside and of course my right arm was hurt. It looks like for a while the chapters will be short. Oh, by the way, I hope my readers understand, that the views stated regarding the American Indians are egocentric to my characters. Indians are not drunks please research! I will not say anymore in the hope that I won't insult anyone.

Christine shaded her tired eyes with her hand as the Cessna circled the landing site. The dirt runway was short and narrow. The end seemed to chase past the horizon, grasping for the reds and oranges of the setting sun. Directing a quick look at Alan's profile she sighed. He appeared undaunted. Slender shoulders lifted in a shrug, her attention was once again on the dirt track. She had seen worse.

Deciduous forest lined the edges of the over-grown trail. To the right was a rickety, metal building which she assumed was the hangar. The structure's painted camouflage hung in curls off the metal sides, the pitched roof sagged in the middle.

"Doesn't look like much, but it is one of the governments' best kept secrets." Starting the descent, Alan nonchalantly nodded to the back. "Backpacks' are in the rear, you'll want to change out of that get-up and don something a little more bug proof."

With a bounce, and a cloud of red dust, the Cessna rolled to a stop. "Stay here." Alan agilely jumped from the plane to stroll toward the hangar. Cautiously looking inside a dusty window, the pilot pulled a handgun from his neck holster. Crouching low, he slipped inside the darkened interior.

Several minutes quietly passed by; and Alan exited, his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Adrenaline laced with sleep deprivation charged through Christine.

"Nothing I can put a finger on. Guess I should have listened to the higher-ups and taken a desk job. I've gotten jumpy with my old age." Patting the nose of the plane he asked, "Help me pull open the doors, so I can put, Penny, here up for a nap."

Christine slid to her feet and headed for the double doors. With a metallic groan they opened. Standing aside she watched Alan coast into the darkened building. An oppressive silence ensued as Alan cut the motor. Christine closed the hangar doors and waited for the Agent to hand down the backpacks.

"We need to have camp set up by dark." Alan ordered as unashamed, he skimmed out of his shirt. Christine quickly scooped up her pack and walked to the other side of the plane. Stiffly she removed her Indian clothing and replace them with khaki pants and an army issue shirt.

Hearing a scream reverberate above their heads, she dropped her pack in the dirt, slammed painfully to her side; then rolled under the plane. Something crashed into one of the walls, followed by breaking glass.

Alan's head appeared momentarily, and he grinned tightly. "Good to know, I wasn't completely loony, that owl must have been what I was sensing. After that incident, you don't get farther than five feet from me," he ordered.

Christine rolled out from under the plane dusting her pants, "Remind me to cancel my Wildlife Federation, membership."

Agent Berkley placed the empty meal wrappers in his hiking pack. Staring up at the stars, he groaned sarcastically, "Nothing better than a fireless campsite, makes one feel sooo cozy. So, Christine, how did you end up on the government's 'Most Wanted List', so to speak? I know what the Feds need for me to know, but I want to learn what I can from you."

Christine carefully poked the ground with a stick hoping to route any reptilian visitors. Sitting, her back against a tree, she sighed,"Tell me what you know, and I'll see what I can do."

Offering the exhausted woman a drink from his flask, Alan started, "Well, I know that you are one of only fourteen known of your kind."

Irritated, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Christine glared at him in the dark, "My kind?"

Becoming serious, Alan pulled up a leg and rolled a small twig back and forth on his knee. "A healer. Not one of those Hocus Pocus, knock you on the head and collect the tithes, kind, but a real healer."

"You certainly have a healthy respect for organized religion." Christine groused, as she licked the rest of her candy bar off her fingers.

Alan shrugged. "The United States has nine of your compatriots secluded in a compound. Who knows where? That information is only known to the higher-ups, not a blue security peon like me. Britain has one and Israel has two. They too, are securely squared away in their prospective countries. That leaves two. Yourself, and a man who travels Europe, slickly evading capture these past thirty years, I might add."

"I know you have kept under the wire pretty much, traveling with your late father. Who by the way, was a genius in the United States Air Force Special Services; and your daughter…um Connie? What I don't understand is why you aren't in the compound with the others.

"Of course, if I knew the answers to that question, I would be a white clearance instead of a blue." Alan took another swig from his flask.

"Michael Hawke is on the right track, and that's all I can say, Alan." Christine kneeled to unroll her sleeping bag.

"O.k., I hope you don't mind a more personal question. Why haven't you remarried? You are definitely a handsome woman with a lot of life left in her."

"I married Gaston when I was sixteen; when we found out I was pregnant with Connie. The army reserves went over seas during the Bush administration and he was killed by friendly fire. Coincidently, he died not too long after I found I was the proud owner of this healing gift; or whatever you would want to call it." Christine rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Gaston was so excited about being a father, and never got to meet her. No one could tell me what happened. He was in camp and the only soldier hit.

"During this time, Dad, came to live with me. I worked in an army hospital, and in a few short weeks my charge nurse noticed that not many of my patients passed on.

"Not long after that, in the middle of the night, a couple of men stating they were FBI agents insisted we leave with them. Their reason was they needed to question me and procure more information 'that only I could give them'. They said it was about a patient that did indeed die during my care.

"My father became suspicious and stalled. As far as I'm allowed to say, the good guys showed up, a scuffle ensued, our house torn up, and we 'disappeared' for the first time."

"Still doesn't tell me why you haven't remarried." Alan reminded her, benignly.

Stretching, hoping to change the subject, Christine spoke teasingly, "Haven't found anyone with a cute enough rear-end."

Alan had taken a large drink from his flask, and snorted. The drink caused a bout of coughing.

Christine hit him on the back, hiding a smile. "My bad, did I say that?"

Waiting for him to settle down, she asked, "My turn. I have a feeling you know who was trying to scare me out of the clinic. All I know, the tactics were weird. Everyone in the village knew me, and where to find me, why kill Brian and beat the fire out of Jackson, Michael and Leon?

"The only thing they had to do, was arrive at closing time. Raoul and I were always alone at that time. My guess is, they hadn't been in town long enough to know the clinic hours."

"Well, like you said, Michael is pretty close to figuring a few things out. His people have lived in that area for eons, they know every nuance of the area, and have a story for each one. From what rumors a town drunk can uncover, they are starting to think that you're a reincarnation of a legend. Most of the people feel that your protection is a top priority. Brian, Jackson, Hawke and Leon were protecting a life-style while protecting you."

"Would it have anything to do with the 'Angel of Death', Michael was talking about?" Christine slipped into her sleeping roll.

Alan looked down for a moment and sighed. "Kalona Ayeliski, or the Raven Mocker. He was half-man and half-spirit. He didn't follow any rules but his own. The legend goes something like this: The wise women of the nation gathered together to form a maiden from clay. She was a type of 'Kamikaze pilot'. This maiden was to make sure Kalona fell in love with her, and then lure him to a large cave. Staying trapped underground was the only way to prevent him from wrecking havoc on the Cherokee villagers.

"The Maiden was very beautiful and regal, an apt mate for the handsome Kalona. He thought they were soul mates, but there was one big difference, she was good on the inside and he definitely was not. He was an angry, selfish, evil soul. The maiden was so good she even felt pity for Kalona. Instead of leaving him underground by himself, she stayed with him when The Great Spirit caused the cave to collapse."

Alan continued to stare at the stars, "The Cherokee think Kalona is at every sick person's bedside trying to hasten their death. When they pass, the ones with stains on their spirits go with him. He is able to leave the cave as a spirit, but the maiden cannot. He is trying to get enough souls to trade The Great Spirit for hers. She was so kind that he will gather spirits until the end of time, and never have ever have enough to ransom hers.

Christine furrowed her brow. "Ok, more than my poor addled brain can take at this moment. If I am supposed to be a reincarnation of the maiden, who is Kalona?

"But back to reality, why is something other than Interpol, or some other faction, trying to get me? I will be honest, I don't know if I trust the Core, or the Pentagon, or anyone for that matter.

"The attackers weren't professional or they wouldn't have left anyone alive behind the library. Secondly, why didn't Core know about it? I know they couldn't have, or they would have removed me from the site before the attackers moved in."

Alan frowned, "I think it is tied in. Core didn't know because it wasn't a professional job. Someone else has an agenda regarding you."

Christine's shoulders drooped, "Care if I take second watch, I'm beat?"

Alan rubbed a finger under his nose, a life long habit. "Seems keeping awake for long hours is my forte, one of the reasons the Core keeps me around. You go ahead and sleep. I will crash when we get to our destination tomorrow."

Looking over to the woman in the sleeping bag, he realized his words hung in the air unheard. Christine, was already wrapped snugly in the arms of Morpheus.