Rescued MC

by Bella Knight

  They ate; Diana her bottle, and the other two their dinner. Xenia told Bob, now Robin at home, about his day after giving him a rundown of his own. He stole the whiny Diana, changed her, and brought her back to the table, strapped to his own chest.

  “I had two sources tell me about a bit of embezzlement on the city council. Turns out Edna wasn’t embezzling, she was moving money around to keep an after-school program intact.”

  “Odin help her,” said Xenia.

  “She’ll probably get re-elected,” agreed Robin. “Smart woman. Good ideas. She explained it all, showed me the books. Thanked me for keeping an eye on the city, too. I told her about the grants I’d applied for, and she’s looking for more school-district grants.”

  “We finally got decent SUVs due to that grant,” said Xenia. “I’ll take ‘old,’ but ‘nonworking’ is a waste.”

  “True,” said Robin. “Best not to use town money for some of those things.”

  They chatted about their plans for the weekend —a lot of sleeping, and time with their daughter, in shifts. Sleeping and their daughter were still mutually exclusive ideas. They took turns taking showers, dressing in shorts and shirts, and doing chores. They cleaned up the kitchen, did loads of laundry, and played with their daughter. It was Robin’s turn to give Diana a bath and he took the alternately screaming and cooing baby up to bathe her, and attempted to put her to bed. It took three tries, but Diana finally went to bed. Meanwhile, Xenia finished off home paperwork, answered emails, opened a bottle of wine, and set out a plate of tiny brownie cubes laced with caramel, another school-bake-sale find. She read a law enforcement magazine and popped brownies into her mouth as if they were going out of style.

  Robin came down, drank from his own glass, popped a brownie bite in his mouth, and laid his head down on the end of the couch. “Odin has forsaken me. Odin loves his kids, even the wild one. This one… will not sleep.” He groaned as he settled down.

  Xenia stroked his hair from her relaxed perch on her recliner. “Poor baby,” she said. “We both wanted her.” She ate another brownie bite, and moaned in pleasure.

  “Thank the gods for Rina’s Movie Night,” said Xenia.

  There was a knock at the door, and Xenia went to answer it. Chad came in, laughing, and talked nonstop about Iron Man. They let him work off his hero worship and popcorn buzz with a spirited game of Nerf basketball. Xenia had him walk through checking that he’d given all his papers to Xenia or Bob, made sure he had all the pencils and erasers he needed, and Bob took the little boy up for a bath, reading, and bed.

  They took an hour to watch television before they both stumbled up to bed. They made slow love under the ceiling fan, Xenia on top, with slow, deep kisses that went all the way to the part of his brain that told him to participate, despite his exhaustion. She reached down, stroked him, then nibbled his ears. Then, she took charge in the Valkyrie way. She slid on a condom, and slid herself over him, rode him, first shallowly, then deeply, then slowly again. Every time he almost spilled over, she took it back, then drew him up until they were looking into each other’s eyes. He came, and they both laid there for a time, shattered. She cleaned them both up, disposed of the evidence, and they got back into their sleeping shorts and her camisole.

  Less than an hour later, Diana made her needs known by a piercing wail. Xenia changed her, fed her, and rocked her back to sleep. Xenia slipped into bed, and read a very boring training manual that put her right to sleep. Robin woke up when Diana made her hunger and wetness a household problem, just a few hours later. He fed, rocked, and sang to her, but she was having none of it.

  Xenia stumbled in, sent Robin to bed, and spoke firmly but lovingly to Diana. “Diana, the household must sleep. Please relax.”

  She stroked Diana’s back, rubbed her feet, and drove Diana into relaxation. But, Diana didn’t sleep. She lay in her mother’s arms, babbling. So, Xenia read another article in her magazine on her cell phone, and Diana finally stopped burbling and slept.

  Robin got the ultra-early wakeup at 5 AM. He changed, fed, and burped Diana. He then walked his daughter downstairs, strapped to his stomach, read his own magazine while doing another load of laundry, dusted, picked up little-boy toys, fixed the coffee and breakfast sandwiches, got a happy little Chad awake, and helped him eat his Cheerios, then write another letter and draw a picture for his mother.

  Xenia came downstairs, kissed her husband, ate her breakfast sandwich, drank her coffee, strapped her daughter to her body, and answered emails. Robin went off first with Chad to the preschool, and Xenia had a blessed quiet hour with her strangely happy daughter before Estrella showed up and strapped Diana to her own belly. Xenia took a huge cup of coffee with her to work.

  She was on the highway heading out to the substation when a tractor-trailer unhinged itself two car lengths in front of her. She pulled off the highway, flipped her lights, put in an emergency call, and backed up to block off the highway. She popped the trunk, threw out cones, grabbed her first aid kit, and rushed to help. The car in front of Xenia had run off the road, and had somehow avoided the wheels. The two women in the car were shaken, but fine.

  The truck driver tried to get out of his cab. He was definitely woozy, and smelled of alcohol. Xenia told him to stay put.

  Xenia ran back toward her car, and found a truck hit by a small car. The woman in the small car was bleeding. Xenia told the driver of the truck to call it in, and describe everything he saw, while Xenia called her deputies and told them to get a detour. She checked the car, and didn’t see anyone else. She told the lady not to move, called her in as triage to the EMTs, and kept up a steady patter of how everything was going to be okay while she took the woman’s vital signs and reported them.

  “I’m Xenia,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Gee…Gina,” wheezed the woman through her pain.

  “Hold on, Gina,” said Xenia. The first EMTs came rolling in, and took over. The second set came, and she breathalyzed the man from the truck that caused the accident, then had them take the intoxicated driver to the hospital. Olivera took custody, read the man his rights, and went with the driver to the hospital.

  She worked her way through the fender-benders, and explained what happened to the insurance investigators, giving her card out for a report. The investigator came and took pictures, and the tow driver split the truck into the cab and its back, and got both pieces off the road. The investigator checked everything over, and sent the cab to the lab.

  “Jack Daniels in a cup in a drink holder, and white pills in the center console,” said Irma Fanacale, their traffic investigator for huge accidents. She held up the baggie of little white pills.

  “Lovely,” said Xenia. “And the back?”

  “Boxes,” said Irma. “Says plastics. Shall we open one?”

  “Sure,” said Xenia.

  Xenia used her multitool to open the boxes. They found plastic shoes in one, plastic shelves in a second. The third hit pay dirt. There were plastic shoe stackers. Inserted into the bottom ones were little white baggies. Xenia got the tester out of her kit. She masked and gloved up and used a wooden stick to take a bit of the white powder.

  “Heroin,” she said. “Cut all to hell and back, but heroin.” They inventoried the rest, and found baggies of crystal meth and black tar heroin.

  DEA showed up, and Agent Montoya from Reno, a black-haired woman in a smart black suit with a St. Paul accent, was delighted to take custody of the truck.

  “These jackoffs,” she said. “Plastics? Not even any coffee grounds to hide the drugs from drug-finding dogs? I would say amateur hour, but this is some serious weight. It’s almost like someone got high and forgot how to transport product.”

  “Someone low on the totem pole ordered to move this, they got drunk or high and thought this was a good idea?” suggested Xenia.

  “No fucking kidding,” said Montoya. “When we catch up with this guy, we’ll find him dead, and have trouble nailing the shot-caller,” sh
e said. “The mooks who drive the trucks don’t know nothin’ most times,” she said. “Very low on the totem pole, and often do it to pay off debt. Looks like they picked a very wrong person this time.”

  “We’re very lucky,” said Xenia. “This morning, no one died. One split second, and no one died.” She looked with disgust at the agents still in the truck. “And we’re lucky this crap didn’t end up killing more people.”

  “I’ll keep you posted, and take your mook when the doctors say we can,” said Montoya. They shook. “You talk to Wraith?”

  “Lots, meet up for stuff,” said Xenia.

  “Tell that evil witch we’ve had to take up her slack. She did the work of two agents. And, with budget cuts, we needed that.”

  Xenia burst out a laugh. “She now works for a security company. Kind of the one pulling all the strings. They have so many jobs that they’ve trained up part-timers that need money, people they can trust. She trained up a swing shift woman, too. And that company, from what I’ve been told, has nearly doubled its profits, and runs like a machine. Not anything she said, hearing it from others.”

  “Not surprised,” said Montoya. “That’s one scary-competent woman.”

  “And she’s now the mother of three kids.”

  “That, I didn’t see coming,” said Montoya.

  “She’s a great mom,” said Xenia.

  “She still with Saber?” asked Montoya.

  “Yep,” said Xenia. She failed to tell Montoya that Wraith also considered herself married to a woman.

  “Tell ‘em raise ‘em up right, not let them be like that stupid asshole that nearly took you out this morning.”

  “I’m an aunt,” said Xenia.

  “And a mom, I hear,” said Montoya.

  “My pride and joy,” said Xenia.

  “Maybe someday,” said Montoya, about her own parental prospects. They shook hands, and Xenia went to the office.

  Xenia now had to make two and a half hours magically appear into her schedule. She ran around like a chicken, ate an oriental salad at her desk, and went through three cans of Dr. Pepper. She covered for Yelena at the speed trap, gave a speech at a school, and spoke at a women’s self defense course. She swung back to work, and did a pile of paperwork. She dealt with Mr. Devins, the conspiracy theorist who now thought aliens were stealing and bringing back his sheep, and she sent her vet tech friend over to check on the sheep. She got a positive sheep report, and her husband came over with a pulled pork sandwich, fries, and one more Dr. Pepper for her, on his way home.

  Later, Xenia decided to go home only an hour and a half later than knock off, after zooming through paperwork. She stuffed the materials she could legally bring home into her briefcase, said goodbye to swing shift, and drove by Sonic for a peanut butter chocolate shake for herself, a chocolate cherry shake for her husband, and a small sundae for Chad. She put her shake away in the freezer, and fed Chad his sundae.

  Chad loved his dessert, and after Xenia changed out of her uniform and locked up her weapon, they played Nerf basketball and discussed his day, with Diana strapped to her chest. Chad was very excited to see his mother. Xenia suggested he write down what he wanted to tell his mother. She helped him make a short list, and put it into his backpack. They checked over his backpack, and Robin took the boy up to bed and a story. The boy took three stories and, shockingly, Diana fell asleep on her own. Xenia dropped off her daughter in bed.

  She left Robin reading story number two about a monkey and a lemur to Chad, and she did her pile of paperwork with her shake. She finished, put it by the door, and crawled upstairs. She slipped into bed, and felt herself falling asleep at once. Paperwork always did that to her.

  She took all the wakeups, getting Diana to burble instead of scream, and took catnaps sitting in the rocker, her daughter strapped to her stomach. She drove Chad to school, ate breakfast at the coffee shop, and went to work to keep up with the mountain on her desk.

  Xenia took breakfast at the diner with her husband. Bob was annoyingly cheerful, as he’d gotten the sleep. She hunched over her breakfast sandwich and hash browns, and slunk back out to work. They got all their ducks in a row for their serial smash-and-grab, and the district attorney used the proof —with his fingerprints, to get him to confess to all of it, with charges from California to Nevada. Las Vegas took him, a plea agreement for 7-10 years was hammered out, and the man went to prison.

  The truck driver was more problematic. He claimed to know nothing, haven taken the job for a friend of his who broke his leg. The friend also decided to claim he knew nothing. Both men had long stretches of time in jail for various drug-related crimes, passing stolen items, and petty thievery. Neither one of them had a license to drive a truck. Xenia gave the DEA that particular headache, and concentrated on what she could do… get through a day on almost no sleep.

  She broke for lunch and took Chad to see his mother at the diner. Vetta hated the halfway house. “My roomie already stole from me,” she said.

  “Thirty days,” said Xenia. “Why do you think I got you clothes from the used clothing store?”

  Vetta grinned. “Good call.”

  Vetta played Uno with Chad and chatted about his list, which impressed her. They got their burgers, and Xenia moved to the counter to eat her chicken burger. They had a nice meal, and Xenia was delighted when Vetta asked for a job application on her way out. Xenia took them to a park to play on the swings. The caseworker met them there, and was pleased with the first job application. Then, Xenia dropped them both off, including a filled-out job application, and sent her positive review of Vetta’s interactions with her son to Child Protective Services.

  Xenia managed to do a ton of office work, spelled Benitez on traffic overwatch near a school zone, and nailed two people with four-hundred-dollar traffic tickets for driving way past the limit in a school zone. Xenia made it back to the office, and completed a mound of paperwork.

  She did her evening things like a zombie, and Robin took putting both kids in bed while she stumbled down the hall to their bedroom. She changed and got in bed.

  He held her in the dark, stroked her back, and said, “I’ll take Diana. Sleep.”

  She kissed him, held him close, and they made love. He kissed her gently, all the way down, and made her come with his lips, his tongue. He slid on the condom and slid himself in. He came, slid out, cleaned them both up, and she put on her panties and shorts again. He came back after cleaning up, and found her asleep. He grinned, crawled in bed next to her, and he held her in his arms and slid into sleep.

  Mountaineering

  The Crow Meadow Campground was filled the day Alo had the website up and running, the same evening they were done creating it. They came in RVs, campers, trucks, cars, and motorcycles. They pitched tents on the platform, cooked food in the fire pit, and ordered a steady stream of breakfast food, sandwiches made on a panini maker, cold egg and chicken salad sandwiches, and fruit.

  Alo ordered two stacking front-loading washers for just inside the latrine overhang, and strung up clothes lines from the overhang to a convenient tree. The food truck sold laundry detergent and fabric softener.

  Leela Little Bear and her ten-year-old daughter Rina from the res, they decided they would run the food truck at night. The Wolfpack did their rotations, and ran it during the day. They also took people out on the hiking trails they bushwhacked themselves, canoed in the creek as opposed to the rushing rivers nearby, and built blinds for photography shoots so the birders and wildlife watchers could get good shots without frightening the wildlife.

  The rangers came by, satisfied themselves that no hunting and fishing happened and that the fires were in concrete fire pits, admired the fire and woods safety checklists at the campsite, and left happy.

  Alo was run ragged. The crops had to be watched. Everyone needed to be fed and housed properly on the farm and at the campground. The horses had to be taken care of, and the rabbit hutch built, and pens for the alpacas and goats. They had decide
d against sheep. The animals wouldn’t be delivered until later, fat and happy with summer feed.

  The bears concerned him. They had puma, too, and wolves, but they tended to avoid people. Bears liked human food. Alo had signs posted about them, and the food truck sold bear spray as well. He built a raised refrigeration unit enclosure at person height, and the tent people labeled and stored their foodstuffs inside.

  Alina called Alo when there was a campside argument. Alo rode a horse, a gray mare, bareback to the location. When he could see the campground he sent her back home.

  He strode into the campsite. “What’s the problem?”

  “This redneck stole my beer,” said a skinny man with a bushy beard, a thin frame, and glasses.

  A tall, wide man who worked as seasonal help on a nearby farm grunted. “I ain’t no redneck,” he said. “And it weren’t labeled.”

  Alo turned to the bearded man. “How much did the beer cost?” The man rattled off a price.

  Alo turned to the beefy man. “Give him the money.” The man handed it over. “And two dollars restocking fee,” he said. The man grunted, and handed over two more dollars. “Now, the convenience store is at the other end of that trail.” He pointed to his left. “Rennie Lodgepole has all the beer you want.” He pointed to his right. “That trail, about a twenty-minute walk, has Rusty Ralchan’s cabin on your left. Man makes a honey mead and a good barley beer, far stronger than the piss you can get from the convenience store. Has park benches, just like here, but cut outta local logs. Now, you can go one Ghost Path or the other, and buy more beer. What’s it gonna be?”

  The men stared at each other. “Mead,” said the bearded man.

  “Barley beer,” said the other man. “Let’s go.” They took off down the trail.

  Alo grinned. “More beer. Works every time.”