Nary, Nary, Quite Contrary
by David J. Wighton
Book #7 in the Wilizy Series
Copyright 2015, David J. Wighton
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.
Although this e-book might be sold at no cost to the reader at times, I retain ownership of the copyright and may elect to charge a small amount for its purchase at times.
Acknowledgements
This book is dedicated to my wife, Dale, and to my other family members whose support made it possible.
Cover design by Rita Toews at WordPress.com
Editing assistance from Michelle Scoville who sees typos that mere mortals would never find unaided.
Cast of Characters
Wilizy Family Members as of September 2085
• Doc and Granny, about 74 years old.
• Hank (about 44) and Yolanda (about 40).
• Wolf (20), Mac (20), Jock (10 months).
• William (19), Melissa (19), Will & Izzy (1).
• Yollie (19), TG (20), Liset (4), Yo-Yo (21 months).
• Wizard (17), Lucas (13).
•Theo (12), Mathias (11), Reese (10).
• Winnie (9), Patella (3), Scapula (1).
Also
• Stu McKenzie (45).
• Momaka (41).
• Dreamer (15), Wanda (about 55).
•General Jock MacLatchie, Mac's father (50).
Main Characters in Penticton
•Mr. Smithman, Reese's teacher.
•Annika, the girl sitting in front of Reese; Mrs. Lee, her mom.
Main Characters Associated with Safe Haven Ranch #4
•Karita/Maddy, a blonde, blue-eyed girl.
•Renfrew and Jenkins, Karita's temporary mommy and daddy.
•Big Daddy and Big Momma, ranch owners. Pililiani, housekeeper.
Main Characters in Toronto
•Dr. Leonard Sandman and his three henchpeople.
•Basher/Arnold, an insurance fee collector; Sparkle, his mother (deceased).
•Slider, a carriage driver; Dennis Lee, head prosecutor; Snoozer, a bailiff; Mavis, a court recorder; an unnamed judge.
•Azure, a blonde, blue-eyed heavenly body.
Main Characters on an Island in the Middle of the St. Lawrence Rivulet
•Marie and Nary.
This page is to help you if you get confused about who is who in the story. If that happens, click your way back to the Table of Contents and scroll back one page.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Other novels by David J. Wighton
About the Author
Chapter 1
Her name was Dee-Dee. She was 11 years old and her blonde ponytail was bobbing along behind her as she walked briskly back to her home on Mt. Pleasant Road in Port Angeles, Washington. It was a Friday. More specifically, it was 11:38 in the morning on a teachers' professional day on May 25, 2085. Dee-Dee had been at the pool on Peabody Street with her friends. When she returned to where she had parked and locked her bike, Dee-Dee discovered that the chain had broken. She had an air tire pump in her backpack because one of her tires had a slow leak, but no air pump could fix that chain. No worries. It was only two miles to her home – a distance that was nothing for a girl who was always running around the neighbourhood, playing soccer with the local U-13 team, and generally being the tomboy of the family.
Not wanting to delay her friends from getting home to their lunches, she told them that she'd walk the bike home and waved as they sped away. Dee-Dee also used her pinky ring computer to phone home to let her brother know that she had to walk home because of her stupid bike.
Dee-Dee looked at the broken chain closely, but did not touch it because the chain was all greasy and she didn't want to mess up her best summer clothes. These were her white short-shorts, her white ankle-high socks, and her white canvas lace-up shoes. She had a light-green, loose fitting tank top that was a perfect match to the cloth band that was around her ponytail. The match was perfect because her mom had sewed the tank top from fabric that Dee-Dee had chosen and this had been a leftover piece. Being on the business end of the sewing machine, Dee-Dee's mom was able to ensure that the tank top wasn't too tight, something that Dee-Dee had argued for mildly. She had tried All of my friends are wearing their tops tight this summer. Her mother replied with the standard parental refrain: If all your friends decided to jump off the Port Angeles city pier, would you too?
Dee-Dee was smart enough to claim that she wouldn't. But she didn't tell her mom that she planned to do exactly that this summer. All the parents of her friends used that same question whenever the girls tried to bend the rules a little. Would you jump off the pier if...? So she and her friends had decided to find out what was so bad about all of them jumping off the pier. Sure, the Juan de Fuca Strait would be cold, but so what? If lots of boys were around the pier, as was normal, they'd tell them that they were going to jump in the strait, take off all their clothes when they were in the water, and go skinny dipping. But they'd have swimsuits underneath. They hadn't worked out how they'd manage to put their soaking wet clothes back on. That thinking could come later. For now, Dee-Dee knew one thing for sure. She was jumping off the pier this summer.
Dee-Dee hadn't pushed too hard for a tight tank top because her real goal had been the white short-shorts. By now she had a good tan going for her and the stark white of the shorts and her socks made her legs look even browner. Her dad had not been pleased when he saw how the shorts fit, so she wasn't going to risk losing them by arguing for the tight tank top. As she walked home, Dee-Dee was thinking about asking her mom to make green shoelaces from the leftover fabric. She didn't notice the bike chain slipping off the sprockets and falling onto the sidewalk bordering Highway 101. She never even thought to ask herself how an almost new chain could have broken on a bike that was locked tightly onto the rusty bicycle rack next to a busy pool in downtown Port Angeles.
Back to the Table of Contents
Chapter 2
The man's name was Yanker. He was middle-aged, balding, slightly pudgy, and unremarkable in every way. Experienced recruiters working on a contract basi
s for the personnel officer of the Safe Haven Ranches never drew attention to themselves, be it in how they dressed or how they presented themselves when they were working. Yanker's designated recruitment area used to cover the Olympic Peninsula excluding Olympia, the state capital in its southeastern corner. Years ago, Yanker had lobbied hard for access to Olympia, but he didn't have to face Dee-Dee's form of rejection. If all your friends decided to kidnap young girls from Olympia's streets, would you too? Safe Haven's rejection of his request to expand his collection area had been based on caution: Keeping state officials in Olympia ignorant of how many young girls are disappearing from the state is simply prudent. Potential assets in Olympia will have to remain untouchable.
Back then, Yanker's designated kidnap area was strictly small town and rural. He had two decent-sized towns in Silverdale and Bremerton, but he could only dip into those towns occasionally without drawing attention to his activities. He had proven himself to Safe Haven's personnel officer over the last ten years – never once missing his yearly quota and never once coming close to being discovered. However the list of missing girls from the Olympic Peninsula was now becoming noticeable, as was the type of girls on that list. White, blue-eyed, and blonde. Yanker abducted the odd brunette occasionally even though his commission on them wasn't very high. This deviation from his normal kidnappings was just so that he could top up his retirement fund. The real money was made off the blondes.
Yanker continued to lobby for an expansion of his kidnap area into Olympia based on his experience, his reliability, and the perils of over-snatching in small rural towns. He argued that expanding his kidnap area was actually safer for Safe Haven than keeping him bottled up in the Olympic Peninsula because somebody would eventually notice the pattern. Two years ago, his persistence had paid off. Receiving permission to snatch young girls in Olympia was the reward for his long service to the company and to his single-minded devotion to his life's work – kidnapping young girls. Yanker didn't see himself as a seriously deranged individual or even as a pervert. He was just a local businessman who was providing a valued service at a very high price in a market that had few competitors.
Yanker's initial code name had been Yank Her. Now with success and credibility among his peers, he was in Safe Haven's books simply as Yanker. His abduction tactics had never been fancy – just brute strength and surprise. A young girl would feel safe riding her bike down the edge of the street as she came home from school. She wouldn't notice an anonymous looking deliveryman unloading some boxes from his copter. Until he yanked her off her bike. The chloroform pad to her nose and mouth required scant seconds to work. Yanker's technique was now so practiced that he didn't need the long-sleeved plaid shirts that he wore to protect himself from flailing arms and scratching fingernails. Regardless, he still wore them as camouflage. Plaid shirts were the standard clothing of the rural workingman in Washington State.
Teacher professional days were a special treat for Yanker because all the young girls would be celebrating their release from school confinement. Yanker was working an eight hour shift. He set up near the Port Angeles pool at 9 a.m. that morning. He had an alternate hunting ground for the afternoon, but saw that he wouldn't need it when one of the girls in his database cycled into the pool's parking lot.
Most school days, Yanker worked a 2:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. shift. He'd park his copter on a residential street at least one block away from the home of the girl he was stalking that day. She'd be coming home from school when parents and other adults would still be at work. The streets and homes would be mostly deserted. If he saw a potential witness on the street, he'd continue unloading as she rode by. Otherwise, he'd yank her, subdue her, and then put her gently into the cargo bay of his anonymous looking copter. (Yanker's commission was reduced if he bruised or harmed Safe Haven's shipment during his kidnapping and delivery.) The empty cardboard boxes that he had been unloading were quickly tossed on top of her and he'd be gone in seconds.
Yanker knew that his cargo would stay unconscious long enough to fly north to Vancouver Island where he'd land in a deserted area and prepare her for the second stage of the delivery. That would mean adding restraints and dosing her with more chloroform. While worried parents were conducting a search for a missing girl on the Olympic Peninsula, Yanker would be in a foreign country. As night began to fall, he'd hop from Victoria across the Haro Strait to the San Juan Islands where he'd store her securely – still unconscious. Early the next morning, he'd meet Safe Haven's personnel officer, transfer the girl into his copter, receive his commission, and then travel sedately back to the Olympic Peninsula. Yanker never knew where the personnel officer took the girl – a requirement for keeping his job. If he didn't know where his cargo ended up, he couldn't trade information about Safe Haven for a lighter jail sentence. Yanker never thought that he'd ever be caught, let alone serve time. He was just an anonymous deliveryman who was unremarkable in every way except for his cargo.
There was much more to Yanker's job than a one hour shift each afternoon. Given the scarcity of the desired product in his area, Yanker had to be patient. In the mornings, he'd drop into a community, scout for new blondes, and check up on potential assets that he had already identified. Elementary schools were the prime scouting area, but he wouldn't set his copter down near them. He's set down on the roads leading to the schools and look for walking or cycling blondes. When he spotted a new one, it might take several days, but he'd find out where she lived. At least once, he'd have to approach close enough to verify the colour of her eyes.
Over time, he had built a comprehensive database of young, blue-eyed blondes that lived in every single community in his recruitment area. He had a picture of each potential asset. A quick check on the database on his pinky ring computer would give him her home address. If an opportunity presented itself to add her to his list of successful kidnaps, Yanker didn't have to follow the little girl home; he knew where she was going and he'd be waiting for her at least one block away from her home. Being able to react immediately to an unexpected opportunity didn't happen by luck. It took planning. Lots of planning.
The need for effective planning is why he had changed his tactics. Yanker no longer used the brute force and surprise tactic. The insistent onset of pudge meant that he wasn't as spry as he used to be. Now he favoured the broken bicycle chain ploy. Disabling a bicycle chain was easy to accomplish simply by kneeling down to tie a shoelace and then using the short-handled boltcutter hidden inside his shirt. Walking recruits were much easier to kidnap than cycling recruits. However the new tactic meant that he had to throw the bicycle into the copter too. Bicycles without chains at the scene of a disappearance would be noticed. The chain-cutting tactic had one tiny risk – the chain would inevitably fall off. If it fell off close to her home, it might be discovered. That's why he favoured girls who had a long walk home. The chain would be long gone. As it was now.
Right now Yanker was waiting for his next blonde victim to walk her broken bike down Mount Pleasant Street. He was one block away from her home. The street was deserted except for the anonymous-looking man in a long-sleeved plaid shirt unloading boxes from his copter.
Back to the Table of Contents
Chapter 3
Yanker's plan had worked perfectly. He had timed Dee-Dee's approach so that he was standing by the side of his copter, a small empty carton held in each hand, waiting politely for her to pass before he crossed the sidewalk and put the cartons down with the others. Yanker made no eye contact, but he did see her glance at him. She sped up a little so that he wouldn't have to wait long for her to pass. "Thank you," Dee-Dee said.
Dee-Dee paused and turned her head when she heard a grunt of pain and some boxes falling to the ground. She saw a white pad coming at her face, felt it pressed against her mouth and nose, and then everything went black. "You're welcome, I'm sure," Yanker said. Child abductors appreciated polite victims.
Before thirty seconds had passed, Dee-Dee was buried on
the copter floor underneath seven empty cardboard cartons. Her chainless bicycle was propped up against the copter's inside wall. Yanker strolled nonchalantly to the pilot side of the copter and opened the door. A gust of wind from above prompted him to look up, at which point he saw two open talons a foot or so above his head. Above the talons was a bulging belly covered in gray-greenish scales. Yanker felt the talons enclose his chest and pinch through his skin and into the flesh around his ribs. Then he was pulled into the air. Yanker's habit of trolling for victims on deserted streets wasn't working out too well for him this time. You might say that he received poetic justice. Yanker had been yanked.
As the ground below him receded, every muscle in Yanker's body that could react to fear, did so. Then he lost consciousness. A foul stench wafted up to the dragon's invisible nostrils. Bad smells are an occupational hazard, Momaka thought as she flapped Bob's wings. A little dip in the Juan de Fuca Strait would take care of it.
# # # # # # # #
Meanwhile back at the snatch site, an invisible Wanda had watched Dee-Dee's abduction. After Yanker had been talonized, she set the time-travel functions on her sling and time-travelled (TiTr'd) three minutes into the past. She had lots of time to walk invisibly to the corner where Dee-Dee was due to appear with her bike. As Dee-Dee approached the corner, Wanda stuck out an invisible foot and tripped her onto the sidewalk.
Dee-Dee fell awkwardly but tried to put out her hands to protect herself as she went down. She fell hard onto the cement, receiving a bloody nose and lacerating her hands in the process. Dee-Dee lost consciousness shortly after she sprawled onto the sidewalk – an invisible moist pad in Wanda's hand covering Dee-Dee's nose and mouth providing that desired result. Wanda collected Dee-Dee in one strong arm, her bike in the second arm, and TiTr'd into the future to arrive near the snatch site one minute after Yanker had disappeared into the sky hanging from the tips of two sharp talons. She let the bike clatter into the street and gently placed Dee-Dee in an awkward position on the cement sidewalk. Then she waited.
"Oh you poor dear," a visible Wanda repeated several times as Dee-Dee tried to sit up. She was dizzy, her hands hurt, as did her nose. She couldn't remember what had happened and tried to make sense of it. She never thought at all about the possibility that she had just lost four minutes of her life.
Nary, Nary, Quite Contrary Page 1
