Seven: Discoveries

 

 

Asheville Regional Airport

Asheville, North Carolina

Tuesday

 

Jeffrey Beddington stood inside the small cubicle that passed for his office within the massive hangar housing Beddington Specialist Airframes, Inc. The walls of the office managed to dim some of the cacophony of noise echoing in the hollow space. Both of the Security Specials (Beddington wondered just what name would eventually be attached to the two sleekest, fastest civilian commuter planes ever built) stood in the hangar, each partially disemboweled. Special One, its front end hung on broad carry straps from the overhead gantry crane, was being swarmed by over fifty technicians and mechanics as they tried to fulfill Steve Carter's last contract with them; Special Two stood in the opposite corner of the hangar, its two engines pulled from the airframe, sitting on massive wheeled dollys. Flashes from MIG welders and a storm of bangs, screeches and whines accompanied by calls, instructions and curses illustrated the symphony of effort which Beddington had been supervising for the last eighteen hours.

Beddington wiped the sweat that had accumulated over his eyebrows and in his beard, then pulled his waistband over his bulk. The odor emanating from his clothes reminded him that he had been wearing the same outfit for nearly two days. His stomach growled from the vending machine food he had been supporting himself on. The last thing he needed was a distraction as the contract he signed with Carter put him on the clock in the worst way, but there was no ignoring the new occupants of his office. The three investigators-- one from the Federal Aviation Administration and two from the Civil Aeronautics Board-- were poring over the documentation amassed so far on the design and performance of the Security Special prototype aircraft. The logbooks of their one test pilot, Sally Roder, also stood open, and were being inspected over and over again.

"I probably could help you guys if you told me what you were looking for," Beddington offered, for the third time. Three pairs of unfriendly eyes stared at him.

"This is just a standard inspection, Mr. Beddington," the FAA inspector said.

At six in the fucking morning? Beddington thought. I don't think so.

"Have you any security set up around your hangar at night?" the inspector continued.

"Yes, a locked door. I and the other chief designer are the only people with keys." Beddington sighed. That particular question had been asked four times by his reckoning.

"No other security?"

"We don’t need any other. Look, gentlemen, both airplanes use a sophisticated virtual reality image system for piloting and navigation. Any pilot other than Sally would need to pull out the instruction manual to even figure out how to start the plane's engines. Sally has one abbreviated copy of the manual hardwired into a portable computer and the rest is locked in our safe. It's perfectly secure." Beddington pointed to the massive safe squatting under one of the draftsman's tables. What in hell did Carter do with the airplanes to generate so much interest in them? "I hold an ATP and I couldn't even steer one of those things down the runway without running it onto the grass." Beddington saw they were unimpressed by his Airline Transport Pilot rating.

"And this Roder is you only test pilot?"

"Yes. We're a small company. I can't afford another one."

The three impassive faces nodded in unison and returned to poring over the reams of material. Beddington grunted with fatigue, grabbed the nearest stool and sat down. He recalled how different Carter had behaved after his hunting trip up north, so animated, energetic--and deeply worried about something he didn't talk about. Ah, well, half-assed geniuses were like that, Beddington supposed--they get some crazy idea and run with it to its conclusion. He couldn’t complain. The four other airframes sitting in the hangar would soon be attended to, once Beddington Specialist Airframes fulfilled its last contract with Steven Carter. Locked in Beddington's briefcase was the agreement assigning him full ownership of the patents on the computer software for the virtual reality piloting system, the double-turbofan engines and the company itself, along with a two-million dollar cash bonus. The other chief designer, Caldwell, and Roder also received enough stock options and cash to keep them secure for the rest of their lives. Carter's genius in creating the computers and engines of the Specials would make them all very wealthy indeed. If Carter had done something to piss off the feds he would be punished soon enough. Beddington had no idea what Carter had done with the airplanes over the weekend and he was not going to talk about what he didn't know.

 

The Carter House

Polk County, North Carolina

Ellie turned over on her futon, sighing. Light was just beginning to show through the fabric of her tent-bedroom. Even though she had arranged to turn off the lighting in her tent, she not only had been unable to sleep during the night but found herself increasingly restless, tossing and turning on the makeshift bed. She was very careful not to disturb Steve as he slept peacefully in his corner of the futon. She turned onto her belly but the weight of her upper torso pressed her bosom too firmly into the futon for comfort. She felt the breeze being circulated by the overhead fan on her bare feet and shifted her blanket a little lower on her body. Her feet also now just extended past the edge of the twenty-foot long mattress Steve had crafted for her. Ellie rose on her elbows and looked at the watch-and-neck chain she wore yesterday. Seven a.m. She worked out the now-familiar math in her head and sighed again. If her growth rate had continued as before--and it had--she was now twenty one feet eight and one-half inches tall.

I wish I could sleep, Ellie thought. At least then I wouldn't feel myself growing. To sleep, perchance to dream. That's what I'd like to do.

Ellie lay on her belly again, and then flipped herself over, cradling her breasts. I can't believe it--for the first time in my life I don't want big tits. She left her bed and made her way to her bathing tent. She smiled as she saw some of the new clothing that had arrived for her yesterday--more of the shoe-socks in larger sizes, an immense silk bathrobe, and some oversized jogging suits. All of the new clothing had a complex, almost embroidered appearance due to being constructed like her nightdress and underwear, with special panels and fasteners inserted in strategic locations to allow adaptation for her increases in size.

Ellie wrapped herself in the bathrobe and headed for her privy. The grass was coated by a thin layer of snow, slippery and cold, but Ellie felt no discomfort; last night she did not feel the stinging of the hot water in their bathing pool, so now she did not feel the cold--her body must be instantly adapting to extremes of temperature as well as improving her perception and size. Ellie stepped briskly, taking seventeen strides to reach the tent. As she stepped into the tent over her toilet she felt the first sense of confinement since she arrived at Steve's--no, their home, she reminded herself. The heat lamp overhead warmed her scalp to the point of discomfort before she seated herself. Everything had radically diminished in size. No, that was wrong. She had just grown twenty-five percent bigger since this same time yesterday.

A shower helped restore some of Ellie's sense of equilibrium. She scrubbed herself raw, cheered by the sensation of cleanliness. She emptied the remainder of her shampoo bottle onto her hair, which now hung down below her buttocks, massaged the mass thoroughly, then rinsed. Her breasts and vulva were still incredibly sensitive--Steve had brought her to climax six times last night, and she had returned the favor twice. Smiling at the memory, she stroked herself while standing under the shower until she felt a weak orgasm ripple through her frame. The pleasure was almost addictive. It helped her not to think about how alien her burgeoning body seemed to her. If only she stopped growing, even if only for a little while, then she could begin to adapt to her new size and self, but she was still growing, rapidly and methodically.

Ellie cuffed the sense of fear gnawing her as she toweled herself. She slipped back into her bedroom-tent and kneeled to administer a careful peck to Steve, then rummaged amongst the new clothing she had acquired. First new underwear and a new pair of socks--she'd worn through the soles of the previous pair of sock-shoes in just one day--and then, this time, oatmeal-colored sweatpants and pullover shirt, fleece-lined and comfortable. She braided her hair and stepped outside, inhaling the cold air deeply. The sky had cleared overnight and the sun was peeking up over the horizon, warming her. Ellie smiled at the sun and decided to hunt up Hadad to see if she could be useful--better to distract herself from the sensation of her body slowly squeezing itself out of her current clothing.

Ellie bent to pull open the solarium door and stepped inside its lush warmth. She heard the sound of cooking coming from her left through the small door leading into the kitchen and pantry area. The aroma of cooking sausages and fresh-baked bread made her mouth water. Ellie dropped to her hands and knees and pony-walked towards the door, then stopped abruptly.

"We've had some excitement here for the last two days, dear," she heard Hadad say. "Miss Andersen is a very beautiful woman, for all she's so big and growing bigger every day. But the most amazing thing is how much Mr. Carter has changed since he met Miss Andersen. Do you remember when we first met? It's the same for him. Miss Andersen has changed Mr. Carter utterly. Remember when I told you how cold and distant Mr. Carter always seemed, never opening himself up to any of the people he met? He has changed marvelously. Now he lets his feelings show to everybody."

Ellie drew just close enough to the door to see inside clearly. Hadad, in a broad white apron to protect his major-domo clothing, was standing before the huge cookstove in the kitchen, scrambling a skillet full of eggs. Hadad's head was turned away from her towards a small portrait sitting on a table draped with a white cloth in the corner of the room. Above the portrait Ellie saw a golden crucifix, carefully hung. She focused her eyes on the picture. It was of a middle-aged, solid woman, dark-complected like Hadad himself, her hair bound but uncovered. A tiny photograph of a small boy with a brilliant smile was stuck carefully into the portrait frame.

"And the love between them, my beauty--you should see it," Hadad continued. "It is a young love, but it is a very strong, very mature. To think they met only a few days ago. Strong enough to hold them together through the trial they are undergoing. Every time I see them together it puts me in mind of when you accepted me. It's wonderful to see young people in love, isn't it?"

Ellie was embarrassed at eavesdropping on Hadad and his remarkable one-sided conversation. She backed slowly away from the door, then stood and quickly exited the solarium, closing the glass panels with exaggerated care. She half-ran back to her tent-bedroom, almost jumping through the flaps. She stopped just inside the entrance, then moved to stand next to her lover. Steve was still asleep, lying on his belly, half-covered by the sheet and blanket. Ellie dropped to her knees and reached out to gently lay a hand on Steve's bare shoulders. He murmured softly in his sleep at her touch, a half-smile forming on his face. Ellie bit her lip and wiped away the tear that formed in her eye.

"I am very lucky, aren’t I?" she whispered down to him. "I am the luckiest woman in the world." She shook him gently and he grumbled.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. It's time to wake up," she said. She shook a little more insistently, then grasped Steve in both hands and turned him onto his back. He blinked once, squinted, then squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled under his breath.

"You need a good morning kiss to wake up?" Ellie said, smiling. Steve nodded, then snored loudly. Ellie bent down until her nose was only a few inches from Steve's.

"Honey--" she said, "major morning breath."

Steve's eyes snapped open and he clapped both his hands over his mouth. Ellie laughed and butted his chest with her nose. Steve made a show of blowing into his hands and sniffing.

"Hmph," he snorted. He reached out and placed his hands on her cheeks, stroking her face. Her braid fell from her back and he seized it, tugging playfully.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, smiling. He levered himself up and kissed her lips.

"Good morning, lover. Sleep well?"

"Best ever." Steve caressed Ellie's lips one more time, then flung himself out of the bed and trotted towards the shower tent. "How did your night go?"

"As usual. I didn't sleep a wink. I don't know why, but I feel all full of energy all the time now. Steve, I just saw something unusual." Ellie followed him as he ducked under the flap and made his way towards the men's shower room. He turned and gave her his lopsided grin.

"Something unusual?"

"I know. Sounds funny coming from me. I decided I would go see Mr. Hadad and see if I could make myself useful this morning." Steve had ducked into the room quickly. Ellie paused, hearing the sound of flushing. Then Steve suddenly reappeared, working a toothbrush in his mouth.

"I saw Hadad talking to a picture of a woman. He was talking to her like she was standing there."

Steve's merry expression darkened. "That's a picture of Brian's wife," he replied.

"I saw a crucifix above her portrait. I thought he was Arab."

Steve nodded. "Lebanese Christian. Born in the town of Bater. His parents took him to the U.K. right after he was born. He met his wife there and they had a boy." Steve sighed. "Both of them are dead."

Ellie put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, Steve, that's terrible. What happened?"

"His wife was taking the boy back to his hometown to visit relatives. On their way through Israel the bus they were riding in was bombed. They were both killed instantly."

"Oh God, Steve," Ellie exclaimed. "I hope he didn't notice me, I'd hate to have him think I was a busybody."

"He noticed you," Steve replied after he emptied his mouth in the shower room sink and rinsed. "Brian was a career noncom--non-commissioned officer--of the British Royal Army until his family was killed, and one of the best SAS operatives they had, if my sources are right, and they usually are. He never misses anything going on around him."

"SAS?"

"Special Air Service--British antiterrorist unit. You see, Ellie, Brian is here as much to provide security as to be a butler or cook. I didn't tell you, but I had an incident happen three years ago when I lived in Asheville. Two thugs invaded my condo--I guess they figured I had a safe full of money in the house--and I ended up having to use a gun to defend myself against the bastards. Scared off one and held the other for the police. That happened right after I was interviewed by the local media people here. Never talked to them since--remember I ran that People Magazine asshole off my property? Once I stopped shaking I bought this property and spoke to some people, who recommended Brian to me. He's here to help keep me--and you--safe from harm, and he's very good at it."

Ellie was stunned. Steve reached up and grasped her hand.

"Don't worry, beautiful," he replied. "There's a pretty sophisticated security system around the borders of our property, Brian's here, and that was the only time anything bad's ever happened to me. We're perfectly safe."

Ellie allowed herself to be comforted. She cocked her eye at Steve's naked form.

"Don't you think it's time you got dressed?" she said. "Brian's got breakfast ready."

"What, don't I look good? Hulk Hogan--pro wrestling," he said, adopting several bodybuilder poses, flexing and grunting. Ellie grinned.

"You look terrific, lover, but you're going to embarrass yourself at my breakfast table with your bare butt hanging in the air."

"I'll be there in five," he replied, turning on his heel. He was almost through the portal of the shower room when he heard Ellie gasp.

"Ellie, what is it? What-what's wrong? Ellie?" Steve said as he turned on his heel. Ellie had suddenly gone nearly the same color as the sweatsuit she wore. Her blue-green eyes were wide open.

"Oh, God. Steve, I've forgotten something. My sister!"

Steve looked puzzled and concerned. "Your--sister?"

"I've been so involved with the changes I've been going through I never thought about Nancy." Ellie reeled, collapsing into a sitting position on the still-damp floor, her legs akimbo. "Steve, do you remember I told you about my older sister?"

"You said you had a sister who lives in Minnesota," Steve replied. He reached into the shower room and snagged a bathrobe.

"Nancy is four years older than me," Ellie continued. She married and moved to Minneapolis. Oh, God, Steve, the people who grabbed me went through Doctor Preston's files. He was her doctor, too. What if they found our about her? Oh, God, I should've thought--"

Ellie choked as she began to cry. Steve jumped over one of her legs to rush to her side, awkwardly patting her arm, his expression composed equally of concern and amusement.

"Ellie, don't cry. Come on, now. Look, you know her number? Good. I've another surprise for you. Let's go grab a bite to eat and find out about your sister."

 

Ellie sat at her table, ignoring how much she had to bend to seat herself on the box. Steve had dressed quickly in a sweatshirt and denims and raced into the solarium, hopping on one foot to pull on his shoes. Hadad appeared, pushing the heavily loaded cart.

"Good morning, Brian," Steve said. Hadad's broad smile of greetings faded as he observed Ellie's worried expression.

"Good morning, sir. Is there something wrong, Miss Andersen?"

"I want to apologize to you for eavesdropping--" Ellie began. Hadad's smile returned and he waved off her apology.

"Have no concern, Miss Andersen. I should be apologizing to you for my little peccadillo. Now, I have a fine breakfast of eggs, toast and sausage for you--is something else bothering you?"

"She has an older sister, Brian," Steve said quickly. "Ellie's just worried about her."

"Ah. I see," Hadad replied. "Well then, would you like the portable phone brought in?"

"Yes, please, Brian. With that special handset I constructed," Steve answered. Hadad glided from the room. Steve walked around the table until he stood beside Ellie's box. She reached down and boosted him up to the tabletop. He captured one of her hands.

"Ellie, grab your breakfast while it's hot," he said. "You'll be able to talk to your sister in a minute or two."

Ellie found her belly crowded with butterflies. She rubbed her middle, consternation crossing her features as she confronted an even more perplexing problem than the potential of her sister coming to harm because of herself.

"God, Steve, what do I say?" she asked. "'Hi, Nan, long time no see. Guess what--I've grown to four times my normal size in the last five days'?"

"Well, no, that might not be a good idea," he replied equably. "But you can invite her and her husband down here for a visit. You can tell her you met a southern playboy and you're soaking him for everything he's got."

Ellie snorted in exasperated amusement at Steve's calm riposte. Steve looked over the corner of her table meaningfully. Ellie took the hint and drew off the server covers and retrieved her breakfast, as well as a tray of the same food for Steve. Steve sat cross-legged on the table, wolfing his food. Ellie attempted a couple of mouthfuls of eggs and a sip of her juice. Hadad suddenly reappeared, hefting a heavy case.

"Excellent. Ellie, can you grab that? Now, grip it around its edges and press."

Ellie followed Steve's instructions and the case popped open. It's interior was filled by a large black box and a display screen. Hadad then offered what looked like a telephone operator's headset made large.

"This is a cellular handset," Steve explained. Ellie picked it up and examined it. She found the mouthpiece telescoped so she could adjust it to reach her mouth. She looked down and gave Steve her special look. He blushed.

"But how do I dial her number?" she asked.

"You just say it into the receiver," Steve replied. "If you're not sure, then say her name and address. It's got a built-in database of just about every telephone number there is."

Ellie looked at the box again. The display screen had automatically lit up. She read the display:

 

 

>>CARTER-TEMPKIN ELECTRONICS

 

 

>>COMMUNICATIONS DIVISION

 

 

>>T-DATABASE V. 4.4.1

 

 

>>INSTALLED 4/16/97 134301

 

 

>>EXEC-PROTEC COPYRIGHT CARTER

 

 

>>SPECIALIST COMPUTING

 

 

>>COUNTERMEASURES ACTIVATED

 

 

Ellie looked at Steve. "'Countermeasures activated'?"

Steve nodded.

"That's a little extra software I installed in the box for you while you were with Doc Canfield yesterday," he explained, his expression enigmatic. "Give it a try. Just say your sister's number or name."

Ellie looked doubtful but put the headset to her ear, adjusting the mouthpiece. She said her sister's telephone number, trying to imitate the singsong tone she had heard Steve use earlier when he was flying the Special, earning Steve's smile and nod. The numbers she spoke appeared on the display screen, and she heard clicking in her earpiece. Ellie pressed on her chest to ease the sense of constriction there as the buzz of a phone being rung filled her ear. She heard a click, and licked her lips, ready to speak.

"Hi," she heard her sister's voice say.

"Nan, it's Ellie--"

"You've reached the Burke residence. We're not available right now. If you leave your name and a number where we can reach you, we'll be happy to get back to you as soon as we can."

A loud beep heralded the start of her sister's answering machine. Ellie drew the earpiece from her ear and looked at Steve.

"Say something," he said encouragingly. Ellie put the earpiece back to her ear and swallowed.

"Hi-hi, Nan, it's-it's me, Ellie," Ellie stuttered. She shook her head. "Listen, I need to know that you're all right. Please call me as soon as possible at--Steve, what number--?"

Steve tapped at a number stenciled in dark gray paint on the cover plate of the black box. Ellie squinted to read it and repeated the numbers.

"Nan, please, it's very important you call me as soon as possible. Goodbye, Nan. I-I love you."

She drew the headset from her face and looked at Steve.

"How do I--"

"Turn your hand so it's horizontal," Steve answered quickly, motioning with his own hand. Ellie followed his example and heard a faint click as the connection was severed. She noticed that Steve was engrossed in the display screen on the black box and she peered around him to see what was so important. All she could see was the number she had intoned into the headset flashing on the screen. Steve looked up and gave her his favorite expression.

"I don’t think you have anything to worry about--at least, not yet."

"Why?"

"Well, lessee," Steve replied. "First, how often did your sister go to Doctor Preston, especially in the last, say, ten years? Did she go to him after she got married and changed her name? Did you ever mention your sister when you filled out information forms in the doctor's office--say, when you were asked about a family illness history? Did your sister ever send Preston a Christmas card after she moved to Minnesota?"

Ellie thought for a moment. "Nan was always the healthy horse of the family," she replied. "I don't think she went to Preston since she was ten or eleven. She moved with her husband to Minneapolis immediately after they were married in 1992, and I only mentioned Mom's cancer and Dad's high blood pressure on any of those forms I filled out when I went to Preston's."

"Okay. Now, I don't remember seeing pictures in your house of you with another girl who looked enough like you to be called a sister without checking. Your sister took after your Dad, was a lot taller than you, right? Heavier, too."

"Yes."

"So, would I necessarily think that it is your sister? Why not a cousin, or a childhood friend?"

"I see what you mean," Ellie said. She blinked and smiled. "You know, it's nice that I fell in love with a logical man. You really are quite a guy, Steve Carter."

Steve bowed theatrically. "Thank you, pretty lady. All the G people have done so far is to investigate you and me. I'm willing to bet that they didn't even pull all the files in Preston's office before they torched it. They won't know her married name and they won't know where she lives. As for more reassurance, your sister's telephone wasn't bugged or interdicted in any way, so I don’t think the G knows about her."

"Okay, now how--"

Steve pointed to the black box. "Exec-Protec is a special software program I wrote that works in conjunction with the black box to detect any abnormality in any telephone communications, from Infinity Transmitters on down. If there was something attached to your sister's line it would have read out here, and the box would've countered it."

"You sure have made a lot of inventions to protect privacy," Ellie observed. Steve nodded.

"Steve, I'm still worried," she said. "What if they find out about Nan? They could try to use her to get to me, to force me to cooperate with them. I remember Turner saying I was too big to frighten anymore. Maybe they'd think Nan was the perfect hostage to force me to return to them for more examinations."

Steve lifted his coffee cup and sipped, his face screwed into a grimace.

"Well, direct action is out of the question--both Specials are out of service for modifications and hopping aboard an airliner would not be a good idea right now," he replied, winking at her. "Ellie, don’t worry. I'll figure something out. Look, grab something to eat before it gets cold."

 

DART Headquarters

Johnston Atoll

Lang paced across floor of DART headquarters, his head bent. He was inwardly seething, almost spitting in quiet anger, although his face betrayed no evidence of the turmoil in his mind. Two full days and then some, and still no word anywhere, from any source, about that Andersen woman. He peeked under the brim of his hat at the clock--for the tenth time in the last two hours--and noted the time. Zero eight thirty hours, Eastern Standard Time: she should now be twenty-two feet tall. Lang could not imagine how on Earth a twenty-two foot woman could simply disappear. It was as if the ground had swallowed her up, which might even be possible, if the scientists Turner had rounded up all didn't have their heads stuck up their asses--she's supposed to weigh several tons by now.

No: Lang refused to believe she had died or disappeared. The scientists, as usual, were wrong. She was big, yes, incredibly big, but she was strong and active and stood upright to threaten his two operatives at Brooks two days ago when Turner tried to use their presence to coerce her. No, she was still around, still a threat, still growing and growing. His phony citizen's militia alert had started a world-class brouhaha inside the halls of the Department of Justice and just about every major metropolitan police department in the country, with dismally unproductive results. Perhaps a judicious leak or two to the national mass media would shake the tree, but Lang was leery of using the press. They were controllable, but only to a degree--public opinion could sway them against the government agencies they depended on for quotes and information. No, no; the press must stay out of it, for now.

Lang stopped pacing momentarily and looked around the DART headquarters. He had called in the entire team for this operation, twenty five of the best trained, most loyal soldiers in the country. Half were asleep in their quarters in another building next door, recovering from a full day of effort and a half-day's flight from New York to Johnston. They had stuffed the massive glove box with a variety of items, all taken from the Andersen woman's home and the office of her family doctor. Lang altered his path and strode to the glove box, looking through the glass at its contents. Clothing, makeup case, bric-a-brac, bedsheets, books, other possessions: all of this woman's life laying inside a heavy glass-and-metal case.

Lang permitted himself to speculate on why this woman was steadily growing into a massive giantess. The mass of personal effects she possessed seemed to diminish the theory of her being a recent extraterrestrial immigrant but that could be an elaborate ploy to fool an investigator like himself. If what she had originally said about exposure to the extraterrestrial orb was true, then why would another civilization send such a thing to Earth? Just to make the first person who touches it grow into mammoth proportions? To become an intermediary when the real aliens arrive? To create a new race of titans? Interesting that only the woman was affected by the orb--Lang was so furious about that object's unavailability he could choke Turner with his bare hands--and not the troublesome "Steve". Was her being female a factor? Perhaps she was being changed to function as a birth-mother for something alien to this world?

Lang shook his head and dismissed his whimsies. Such nit-picking could be gone into at leisure after the woman was captured and properly examined. He was about to return to his pacing when one of the books in the glove box caught his eye. He slipped his hands into the nearest pair of gloves and retrieved it. It was an old family bible--the print date was nineteen fifty-nine. Lang didn't like the Church, or any church, for that matter--religious discipline and the needs of the state often conflicted. He flipped open the pages of its frontispiece as quickly as the heavy neoprene gloves would allow. The New Modern Bible, presented to George and Helen Andersen on their wedding day by Reverend Aaron Winters. Married at Saint Agnes Church, November 17, 1959… then this was her grandparent's bible. The delicate pages of the book tore under the thick fingers of the glove. No page of births--presumably lost from the book sometime in the past. Death of Helen, October 20, 1977. Death of Matilda, wife of George, Jr., on October 11, 1987. Marriages--

Lang leaned forward until his head thumped the glass of the box. He looked up at the rest of the DART team, his motion attracting their attention.

"Who examined these items?" he demanded.

"I was in the process of cataloging them, sir--" a senior sergeant spoke up.

"Did you look in this?"

"No, sir."

Lang shook his head. He thought to verbally thrash his staff for failing to examine such an obvious source of information but he was too pleased with his discovery to do so.

"Okay, who's ready to fly?"

Two of his operative detached themselves from the rest and came to attention beside him.

"Good. Get on a flight to New York. Go to the--" he bent his head-- "Sacred Heart Church in Yonkers. I want the files from the church registrar's office for the marriage of Nancy Andersen and Mark Allan Burke on June 3, 1992. Get all the information you can. I authorize you to use extreme measures if you have to. Contact me immediately when you have anything."

The two subordinates turned and strode from the building, heading for the ready-use Gulfstream belonging to DART parked on the tarmac. Lang looked up at the clocks, almost shaking with anticipation--it should take just over fourteen hours for them to reach New York and achieve their mission. What better source of information about any person than a family member, he thought, and what a bargaining chip to compel obedience! Lang was so ecstatic he actually smiled as he began to pace again.

 

The Carter Property

Polk County, North Carolina

"Steve, I really appreciate your company," Ellie said, "but you don’t have to stay beside me all day long."

Ellie was on her elbows and knees in her tent-bedroom. Despite his obvious connections to several companies Steve had made no move in the last two days to leave her side except for short periods of time to meet with other co-workers. Even Hadad had remarked on his absence from his work. Ellie leaned forward on her elbows to bring herself closer to Steve and she realized he had to crane his neck to look at her. God, I'm getting so big, she thought. In a few more days he'll be the size of the Ken doll I had when I was a little girl. No, that's wrong--he's not getting smaller, I'm growing bigger. In a few more days I'll be as tall as this tent. Ellie rubbed her chest to ease the fluttering inside herself. I don't want him to see how afraid I am of what's happening to me, how alien I feel.

"But I want to stay beside you, beautiful," Steve replied. He reached out and idly tugged at her braid, his eyes smoldering as he looked up at her. Ellie felt her affection for Steve grow even stronger.

"You are so beautiful, Ellie," he said suddenly, his tone softened. "I just want to stand here and look at you all the time. Besides, I'm now officially unemployed now, so I don’t have anything pressing to do."

"You're unemployed?"

"Yep. Sold all my interests in all my companies and liquidated all my domestic stock holdings. Don Schiff just e-mailed me the results. He says I've given accountants across the world headaches. I'm a real playboy rich kid now."

"You've given up everything?"

"No, no, not at all. I still hold the patents on a few things. Right now I wouldn't have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want to. I will find something else to do, of course, once we're settled." He playfully tugged her braid again. "Listen, since we're both dressed for exercise, why don't we have some? I need to stay in shape to service you, after all. Then when we're finished with our run we can discuss where we're going in a couple of days."

Ellie couldn't help blushing at Steve, who waggled his eyebrows and offered a wolfish smile. She shrugged, admitting defeat.

"Okay, lover. Where to?"

"Let's jog to the lake."

Ellie did a double take. This was getting to be too much. "There's a lake on your property?"

"Yep. It's about two-and-a-half miles that way." He waved at one of the walls of her tent. "You've not seen it yet. I think a little exercise would be good for both of us."

 

The weather outside had changed again. As Ellie lifted the flap for Steve a cold gust of wind almost pulled the cloth from her hands. The sky was dappled by tall cumulus clouds, white above and dark gray below, scudding before the wind. The snow of the previous night had melted in the morning sunshine, leaving a raw dampness in the air. Steve wrapped a nylon web belt around his middle and attached a canteen and a cellular phone.

"What all the well-dressed joggers are wearing, nowadays," he said. He rubbed his arms, looked up at the sky in a considering way, then grinned.

"A soft day," he said. "Come on."

He suddenly took off down the hillside at a dead run.

"Betcha can't catch me," he called over his shoulder. Ellie grinned.

"Want to bet?" she shouted back. She pulled her sock-shoes snug on her feet and began to jog after Steve, carefully at first, then more freely. She was unused to the exercise--until five days ago her usual physical activities involved lifting serving trays--but her body responded well to the exertion. She lengthened her stride, feet thumping the ground, eyes tearing in the cold air. The brilliant hues of the autumn woods surrounding the house came up with startling suddenness, offering an impediment Ellie had not anticipated--an interwoven network of limbs and branches at body level blocking her way. She slowed and saw Steve turn on his heels to jog backwards. He stuck his tongue out at her and grinned again.

"Nyah-nyah-nyah!" he called out.

"Hey, no fair!" she yelled. Ellie quickly ducked under the first set of boughs and rose to see Steve well ahead, darting down a path between the trees. She picked up her pace and followed, dodging outthrust limbs and occasionally suffering the swat of a branchful of colorful leaves. Even though Steve was clearly running for all he was worth Ellie's long legs ate up the distance between them. She surged forward and seized him in her arms, lifting him high in the air. He was gasping for air from his exertions and began to laugh and choke at the same time as she turned him in her hands and brought him close to her face.

"What was that little sign you flashed me back there?" she said evenly, her own breathing deep but not labored. Steve reached out and caressed her chin.

"Oh, nothing," he replied, smiling as he panted. Ellie cocked one eyebrow.

"Not nothing, I think."

"I-would-never-indulge-in-such-childish-behavior," he panted in mock seriousness. Ellie shook her head and grinned, then stuck out her tongue to administer a lick to his face. He grabbed at her cheeks and kissed her. Ellie giggled.

"Good," he gasped. "I like it when you're smiling. Now, what say we move a little more sedately to the lake? Whew, but I'm tuckered. Must be getting old."

"Steve, I don't think you could ever get old," Ellie replied. She returned him to his feet. "Lead on."

 

A couple more miles of travel and Ellie saw water through the canopy of trees. She was alternately jogging and walking to keep pace with Steve, who jogged steadily. She had to admit to herself that the exercise was refreshing, dissipating some of the energy that seemed to be overfilling her. As a fresh gust of wind died away she slowed, turning her head slightly.

"Steve, I hear something."

Steve dropped his pace to a walk, then stopped altogether, bending to catch his breath, his hands on his knees.

"What-is-it?"

"It sounds like a motor, a car or something."

Steve exhaled gustily. "Hmph. There are no roads around here. Perhaps somebody's on the lake, though it's pretty cold. Let's go and see."

"Steve, no," Ellie replied, taken aback. "What-what if they see me?"

"Not to worry, sweetheart. There's a copse of brush we can both hide in. Nobody should see you at all."

They proceeded more cautiously, Ellie ducking herself under the canopy of trees. As Steve had said, the path detoured around a thick tangle of trees with underbrush beneath. They stopped beside the copse, standing in its shadow. Ellie straightened slowly until she could see out through a small gap in the branches.

"Can you see anything?" Steve asked. Ellie leaned to one side, then to the other.

"Yes," she replied. "There's this big boat with a striped awning heading this way. It looks like it's full of kids."

"Kids? Oh, it must be another enviro-cruise," Steve said.

"A what?"

"A guy named Joe Farnsworth runs a bait-and-tackle shop on the other end of the lake," Steve explained. "He's been offering his party boat for tours by the local schools to show the kids the lake environment. To boost his income during the slow season."

"Oh, yes, I see now," Ellie said. She had focused on the boat a hundred yards away and saw FARNSWORTH BAIT & TACKLE stenciled in yellow near its prow. "Steve, I don't think those kids are more than eight years old. They sure look cold."

The guttural sound of the boat's engine rose and fell, sputtering occasionally. Steve cocked his ear towards the noise.

"Hope whoever's running that thing doesn't break down out there. I doubt there'll be anybody available to give him a tow."

Ellie smiled and watched the gaggle of well-wrapped children standing in the craft, all wearing bright orange life preservers, holding tightly to its metal handrails. The boat was obviously old, its wooden hull gray. The engine sputtered and a backfired with a resounding echo, then its noise stopped. The boat, now perhaps fifty yards from the shore, began drifting in their direction.

"That figures." Steve snorted again. "Well, if they can't get it started I'll call Farnsworth and tell him he needs to retrieve his boat."

Ellie focused her full attention on the boat. She could hear high-pitched voices chattering animatedly as a counterpoint to a low conversation from the three older people in the boat. One adult figure walked to the rear of the boat and yanked at something below the gunwale. As a hatch cover came up she saw a tendril of smoke rise from the rear of the boat. In a few seconds the tendril became a churning mass fanned across the boat by the breeze.

"Steve, that boat's on fire," Ellie said. Steve thrust himself into the brush to get a clear view.

"Oh, shit!" He yanked his phone from his belt. Ellie stood fully erect, bringing her head above the brush for a clearer view. She saw gusts of white against the black smoke as another adult applied an extinguisher to the fire. A distinct whoosh saw visible flames flash into the face of the boat's pilot, who fell out of sight. The chattering was quickly replaced by screams and cries as smoke and fire began to reach out towards the boat's passengers. Ellie gulped, breathing heavily as she saw the kids all rush to the bow of the boat, pressing closely together. The children began to abandon the boat in the face of the smoke and fire, some jumping overboard, some being pushed, struggling as their clothes became waterlogged. The chorus of tiny voices screaming in fear and panic was nerve-shattering.

"Steve--" Ellie began. Steve had the phone to his ear, talking quickly and urgently. She clenched her hands into fists and jumped through the brush, running to the small beach beyond the path, splashing into the water. Her feet slipped on sand and mud as she made her way out to the boat, which was now fully afire. The water came up to her knees, her thighs, her waist. She kept moving, wading out until she was up to her chest in the cold water--and within arm's reach of the kids floating around the boat.

"Swim to me, swim to me," Ellie called out. She cupped one child--a pretty blond-haired girl--in her hand and swept her up to her shoulder. The little girl, choking and spitting, lay face down on the warm, dry surface. Ellie reached out for more, wading around the boat, moving quickly but gently. One pitch-headed boy looked at her and realized how big his rescuer was.

"PISSFUCKBULLSHIT!" he yelled, his dark eyes round.

"It's all right, don't be afraid, swim to me," Ellie said softly. He slowly began to dog-paddle towards her. She raised her hand beneath him, lifting him clear and prompting another round of obscenities. Other kids, hearing Ellie calling and seeing their compatriots out of the water on her shoulders, swam clumsily towards her. In a moment she had eight of the children clinging to her. She turned carefully to head towards the shore. The other children, seeing her leave, began screaming and crying, paddling frantically in an effort to get closer to her.

"I'll be back, I'll be back for you," she called over her shoulder at the others. She saw Steve, waist deep in the water, waving to her urgently.

"I called Brian," he shouted. "He's got the rescue squad on the way."

"Can you help the people in the boat? I'll get the rest of the kids," she called back. Steve had already dived into the water and stroked past her. Ellie continued to the shore, her passengers squeaking as she moved.

"It's all right, it's okay, I won't let you fall," she said softly, placing hands and forearms over her squirming charges. She stepped ashore and knelt, then dropped to her elbows and tilted herself forward. The eight children came free against her arms, slipping unharmed to the pebbly beach. Ellie stood quickly.

"I'll be right back. You stay put," she said, then turned and ran back into the water. Two of the children, more energetic than the others, had managed to swim almost to the shallows and she lifted them up, depositing them on shore. The others tried to follow but fell behind. Ellie waded out knee-deep to capture each one and place them where the water came only to their ankles. She had eighteen children sitting or lying on the beach when she turned back to the boat.

Steve had swum to the boat, which now burned like a smoky torch. One of the adult passengers--a teenager, really--had leaped from the boat and was now treading water, a look of sheer terror on his face as Ellie charged towards him. She slowed and reached out to him.

"Here," she said. "Take my hand."

The teenager blinked, his teeth chattering. Ellie slipped her hand through the water underneath him and lifted him up, gripping him around his hips. He grabbed Ellie's fingers spasmodically as she lifted him clear of the water.

"Shit, shit, shit SHITSHIT!" he yelled, looking around wildly.

"Stop that," Ellie said in a soft but firm voice. "You need to help the kids."

She returned to the shore and released the teenager, then dashed back. Steve was treading water near the boat, partially obscured by the smoke pouring from its hull, trying unsuccessfully to get another of the older passengers off the prow of the boat.

"I-I can't swim," this teenager--a girl--cried.

"You like it regular or extra crispy?" Steve yelled back as best he could, his exertions to stay afloat robbing him of air. "Grab one of the cushions and jump!"

The girl looked up and saw Ellie approaching through the smoke. She pointed, gave a strange, strangled squeak, then fell in a heap inside the boat.

"Steve, don't--" Ellie called out, but it was too late. Steve had already grabbed the gunwale of the boat and levered himself on board. Ellie waded out further, the water suddenly rising past her shoulders to her neck and chin. She hooked a finger on the gunwale of the boat and pulled. Even though it was as big as she was tall the boat surged easily towards her and she started wading backwards, coughing from the choking black smoke of the fire. Steve abruptly appeared through the deadly fog, the teenager hung over his shoulder.

"Ellie! Take her, I'm going for the pilot," he called.

"Steve, be--" Ellie called back, her stomach in knots with worry for his safety. Steve dropped the girl into Ellie's hands and thrust himself back into the smoke. Ellie continued to tow the boat to shore with one hand and held the girl halfway out of the water with the other. "Steve! Steve!"

Loud coughing erupted from the smoke. Steve reappeared, dragging the boat's pilot under his arms. Ellie could see the third teenager was burned on his arms and face, his hair charred.

"Fuck a dog!" Steve yelled.

"Steve, you're hurt," Ellie cried. His hands were bright red and she could see tiny droplets of blood appearing on his skin. She tugged at the boat with all her strength and felt the wood give under her fingers

"Gotta abandon the ship," Steve said, hacking. He slung the pilot over the railing and lowered him into the water. Ellie released the boat and supported him as Steve jumped overboard and began to swim slowly beside her.

 

The breeze shifted sufficiently to keep the smoke from the group of survivors as they lay on the small beach. Ellie walked slowly from the water, a teenager dangling from either hand. Steve followed, shaking his scorched fingers. The children were sitting in a gaggle, crying and shivering. As Ellie rose up from the water high over him the unharmed teenage boy fell flat and covered his head with his arms. The pitiful sounds the children were making struck Ellie's heart.

"Oh, here, don't cry, you're going to be okay," she said softly. Several of the children had recovered their wits sufficiently to realize a twenty-foot tall giant was stepping towards them and they tried backing away from her on hands and feet, one whimpering in fear. Ellie put her two charges down on the beach. She sat on her heels and reached out to each child in turn, gathering them closely together.

"Steve, these kids need to get warm," she said. "How long do you think the rescue people will be?"

"A while," he panted. "I'm the nearest fire-paramedic, I'm afraid."

Ellie turned to look down at Steve, who was still waving his hands in the cold air.

"Steve, are you badly hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I'll attend to the three big kids if you'll take care of the little ones. They need to get out of those coats before they catch their death from exposure."

Ellie nodded and returned to the children. Murmuring reassurances she leaned carefully over the children. She noticed the little blond girl she had first rescued was sitting nearest to her, her mouth open, shivering visibly.

"What's your name?" Ellie asked. The little girl looked up.

"Kathy," she gasped.

"Kathy, my name's Ellie. Let's see about getting you out of those wet things so you can warm up." Ellie smiled and slowly reached out with both hands, grasping the life preserver the girl wore. She tried to unsnap the bulky vest but her fingers were too big to work its clasp. She gripped the vest front and yanked, neatly snapping the webbing, then carefully drew it from around the girl. Ellie turned to the next child, who squeaked as her giant hands came near.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you. What's your name?"

"B-B-Billy."

"I won't hurt you, Billy, but you need to get out of that life jacket so we can get you warm, okay?"

Ellie patiently worked her way through the crowd of children, smiling and speaking softly. Some of the children were so cold they couldn't speak through their shivering.

"Steve, these kids need something to warm them," Ellie said. Steve looked up from the three teenagers whom he had laid out on the beach and nodded.

"Next time I go jogging I'm bringing matches," he replied. "These three are non-smokers--no way to make a fire except the boy-scout way, and I was never a boy scout."

Ellie looked around. The boat had finally drifted on shore some distance away, pushed by the breeze, smoldering and half-sunk. Her sweatsuit was sopping, as was Steve's. Eighteen kids needed a source of warmth but there was none to be had--

"I know," she said suddenly. Ellie stood and rolled her sweatshirt up over her breasts.

"Steve, I'm going to lie on my side. Put the kids next to me," she called. Steve had stopped attending the burned teen as he watched Ellie start to pull her shirt up, a puzzled look on his face, then he smiled. Ellie stretched out on the beach. Steve grabbed up each child, stripped off their outer garments, and braced them up against Ellie.

"Steve, they're like ice," she said.

"I know. Can you drape your arm across them? That way they'll be warm front and back," he said, gasping for air as he hefted the last little boy and nested him next to his companions. Ellie complied, angling her shoulders and pressing her forearms and hands gently against the children. She could feel them shaking. Steve stopped on his way back to the three older kids to give Ellie a quick peck on the lips. Ellie saw he was pale and his lips were turning white.

"Beautiful and smart, too," he said.

"Steve, you're freezing!"

"Yeah, a little. Nothing a nice hot toddy wouldn't fix."

Ellie kept watch over her charges, whispering softly to them. She could feel some of them stop shaking but others still shivered, shocked by their experience. One boy, the smallest of the group, had curled up under her hand, shuddering violently, and she clasped him to her palm to give him the most warmth she could. She continued to speak softly and reassuringly as they warmed against her belly and ribs, shifting against her as she breathed.

"Wow, you're big, lady," one boy opined. "Bigger than my big brother or my Mommy, or even my Dad."

Ellie stifled a giggle at the little boy’s portentous tone--she would bounce the children against her belly if she did--and craned her head as far as possible to view all the children she held. Exasperatingly, her breasts got in the way.

"Is everybody okay?" she said.

"Uh-huh." "Yeah." "I think so." "No!"

A loud roar heralded the arrival of a vehicle. Ellie started and turned her head, looking up the path they had used to reach the lake. Steve also noted the noise and looked up, then relaxed as a four-wheel drive truck thumped around the brush into view, Hadad at the wheel. The truck slid to a stop and Hadad leaped out.

"Brian! Good, I'm afraid my phone is drowned," Steve called. Hadad opened the hatchback of the truck and a mass of blankets spilled out. Steve jumped up to help. Hadad paused in approaching Ellie, looking at the children ranged along her belly. He smiled and nodded, then began to draw the children from under her arms and wrap each one of them in a blanket.

"Brian, Steve's hurt," Ellie said. Hadad nodded.

"Yes, I saw. I'll attend to him in a moment," he replied.

Ellie rose and pulled down her top after the last child was wrapped in a blanket. She stepped over to where Steve had been attending the three teen supervisors of the children. The burned one was in a bad way, his face and arms blistered. The girl looked up at the approaching giantess and collapsed again into a faint. The other unharmed boy averted his eyes and stared at the ground, shaking. Steve's amused, sardonic expression could not entirely hide his own distress and shock from the injury to his hands.

"Steve, you need help," Ellie said. Steve looked up at Ellie.

"I'll be okay, sweetheart. This guy needs the real attention."

"Allow me to care for them, Mr. Carter," Hadad said, stepping up to them. He waved one hand at the children, now all huddled together under the blankets. "The rescue people will be here momentarily. It would prevent a great many silly questions if neither of you were present when they arrive." He paused to look up at Ellie and beamed. "I will watch the children until they can be transported to hospital. Here, Miss Andersen," he said, offering her a covered roll of gauze and a small tube. "Take Mr. Carter home and clean his hands carefully with cold water, then spread this cream on the affected areas and wrap them well with the gauze. I should be able to return within the hour and look at Mr. Carter's injuries more closely."

"Steve, he's right," Ellie said, suddenly shy of meeting other people. Steve gathered himself to argue, then nodded. He tried rubbing his arms with his hands and grimaced in pain.

"Come on," Ellie said, slipping the first aid supplies into a growth-fold of her shirt and lifting him up. "Brian, we'll see you back at the house."

"Very well, Miss Andersen," he replied. Ellie cradled Steve to her and started to turn for the path when she felt something grab her ankle. She looked down and saw the little blond-haired girl hugging her leg. Ellie bent down to gently caress the girl with her free hand.

"See, you're okay, now." She murmured. The girl said nothing but looked up and grabbed at Ellie's fingers, trying to hold her back.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go now--Kathy, isn't it? This man needs help, too," Ellie said in apology, smiling down on the girl. Kathy reluctantly released her hold on Ellie's fingers and waved as Ellie began to walk quickly, back down the path they had come.

"Not that way. The volunteers'll be using the path," Steve said. He pointed out a continuation of the path leading off to her right. "Go that way. It leads right back to the house."

 

Ellie lengthened her stride and walked as quickly as she could. Although she did not feel cold at all after her ducking she could tell that Steve was not doing as well--he was beginning to shiver in the breeze of her passage. When Steve suddenly sneezed Ellie stopped momentarily.

"Don't you dare catch cold, Steve Carter," she said with mock seriousness. Steve rubbed his nose with his sleeve.

"Me? I don't catch colds, we just make friends for a bit," he replied. He started coughing violently, doubling over from the paroxysms. Ellie frowned with concern.

"What was good the those kids is good for you, too," she said, pulling open the neck hole of her shirt and slipping Steve down her front. She cradled him through her shirt with one hand. "Comfy?"

Steve wriggled. "Your bra's giving me a wedgie," he complained.

"Oh? Okay," Ellie grinned. She reached under her shirt and slipped her breasts out of their cups.

"Better?" She felt Steve settle into her cleavage as her bra rode up her chest and back, his head and shoulders sticking up out of the neck hole of her shirt. "Whoo, you're cold." She began striding quickly down the path again.

"Thank you," he replied, and sneezed again. "That does feel better, out of the wind."

Steve was quiet on the journey back. He had stopped shivering but still sneezed occasionally and his coughs were wracking him. Ellie thought about jogging but decided against the increased speed--Steve would rattle around inside her shirt too much. Now that her sudden, unexpected adventure was over Ellie felt a jumble of emotions. She realized that all the efforts Steve made to protect her from detection had just gone by the wayside. She was torn between a sense of reward for having rescued the children from the burning boat and shame at having undone two days of elaborate effort to keep her unknown to the local populace. While the children's stories about her could be discounted as imaginary by their parents, the three teen monitors would not be so easily dismissed. What would they say to the authorities when they were asked what happened? Ellie wondered just how long it would take for the news of the incident to reach first the state and then federal authorities. Steve had said that it would take another day or two for the airplanes to be ready for their escape from the reach of the people who had taken her before. Ellie tried to focus on the positive thing she had done--rescuing those kids--but the problem she had just caused Steve and herself worked around like grit inside her mind. Eventually, she voiced her thought.

"I blew it, didn't I?" she asked. She slowed her pace and bent her head, blinking. Then she felt Steve's arms encircle her neck firmly, throttling her.

"What?" she asked, stopping and gently pulling on his arm to ease the sense of choking. Steve lifted his head from the hollow of her throat and gave her the brightest smile she had seen yet.

"I am proud of you," he said. "I am so proud I could bust. You are a wonderful person, Eleanor Andersen. You saved those children from real harm. I must be the luckiest man in the world to have you."

Ellie opened her mouth in surprise. Steve laughed and hugged her neck again.

"You don't believe it's true," he said. "Believe me, it is. Every word of it. If you hadn't been there they would've been burned in the boat, or gone overboard and drifted halfway down the lake until they were half-dead from exposure. You saved them Ellie. You."

"It was lucky we were both there, Steve--" Ellie began, picking up her pace again.

"Uh-uh. Only you could have gotten those kids out of the water as promptly as you did. If I'd been there alone I would have had to swim from boat to shore over and over again for each kid. Half of them would've floated away out of my reach before I could rescue them. No, you are the reason they're all okay. You, the twenty-foot woman with the twelve-foot reach and hands big enough to cup an eight-year old--only you, as you are now, could have rescued all of them so quickly. And that's all that matters right now."

Steve coughed again. Ellie felt herself warm from Steve's praise. She rubbed his body through her shirt and brushed his head with her chin. A smile of elation crossed her face, and she pressed Steve against her and began to run again.

 

Under Ellie's instructions Steve had gone into the kitchen to retrieve two small plastic bags and a roll of adhesive tape, then joined Ellie in her shower-tent. After stripping herself and unbraiding her hair she helped him out of his damp clothes. She drew cold water into her smallest washtub and dipped Steve's hands in, daintily washing them, then patted them dry and deftly applied the ointment and gauze. Steve stood silently, his expression bemused as she tended him. Ellie then wrapped the plastic bags over his bandaged hands and taped them to his forearms.

"I promise I won't scratch them," he said.

"This is to keep them dry, silly," she answered him. "Now, let's get the rest of you cleaned up, and me, too."

She drew hotter water and began to wash Steve, gently lathering him. She noticed his member becoming erect.

"I thought you weren't feeling well," she said.

"Not when I'm with a beautiful naked woman who I love very much," Steve replied, his eyes dancing.

"We can soak later," she replied. Steve looked downcast for a moment, then winked and gave her his lopsided grin, spoiling the tableau. Ellie snorted and soaped him thoroughly, then herself. In keeping with recent habit she held him while rotating under the shower to rinse them both clean, then she kissed him tenderly.

"Ah, that's better than a hot toddy," he said. Ellie kissed him again and put him down. She grabbed up one of her towels and rubbed him down, then used her hairbrush to comb his thatch.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said, wrapping her towel around himself and pulling the plastic bags from his hands.

"You're welcome, lover." Ellie dried and ordered herself, leaving her hair unbraided. She stepped into her bedroom-tent and rummaged among the latest shipment of clean clothes. Steve followed. Ellie was in the process of pulling on a pair of panties when she noticed him staring. He looked so much like one of the boys she had rescued earlier she giggled.

"Like what you see?" she said. Steve gulped.

"Ah, let me catch my breath and I'll tell you. You're so beautiful I'm getting dizzy watching you," he replied, sitting down on the floor. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"Never, lover," she replied, casting a sultry look in his direction. He blew her a kiss back. Ellie slipped on a bra, hooking its clasp between her breasts.

"Do you need that?" Steve asked. Ellie looked down at herself.

"Not really. I do seem to be defying gravity." Ellie paused. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Professor Odegard?"

"No, not yet," Steve replied. "I imagine he'll not say anything until he has something good to report, or nothing to report at all."

"Do you think he will find out anything?"

"Sure--but he may end up creating more questions than answers," Steve replied. Ellie looked down at Steve. He was looking in her direction but his eyes had a faraway look. He suddenly noticed her staring at him and he smiled.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that we both have had quite an adventure for the last few days--you more than me. I could speculate on the why and wherefore of what's happening to you but it wouldn't help matters. I keep thinking about Occam's razor, though."

"Occam's razor?" Ellie asked.

"William of Occam was an English scholastic philosopher," Steve said. "He postulated a view that came to be called Occam's razor which basically states that the answer to any problem should never be made overly complicated. I keep thinking there is a reason for what's happened to you, a simple reason. But I can't come up with one that makes sense, yet. Augie will help though, Ellie, and so will I--never worry about that."

Steve coughed. Ellie finished slipping into the her latest acquisition, a dress that was half frock, half kimono delivered the day before, and hurried across the tent to Steve, bending to rub his back.

"I think you could use that hot toddy you've been talking about," She said softly. "Let's go inside the house. I'd like to see the inside of it once more while I still can."

"When our new house is built you won't have that problem," Steve protested. Ellie smiled to dispel his obvious distress at her concern and swept him off her his feet.

"I know, lover--and thank you."

"Okay, pretty lady," he replied. He looked so relieved at her smile it was almost comical. "let's get ourselves some refreshment. Rescuing a boatload of kids before lunch is exhausting work."

He held up his watch for Ellie to read. It was one in the afternoon. Ellie shook her head. Not having slept in three days it was becoming harder and harder for Ellie to reckon the passage of time accurately without a timepiece. She carried him from her tent to the house.

 

The Edneyville Medical Center

Edneyville, North Carolina

Polk County Sheriff Russell Thompson pressed his uniform hat firmly on his head against the afternoon breeze as he strode towards his patrol car in the hospital's parking lot, his mind full of questions. He had raced to the Medical Center in Henderson county to visit one of the victims of the morning boating accident, his eight-year old daughter Kathy. When he had arrived the emergency room of the Center was a scene of chaos. Half of the twenty-one children and teens involved in the event were clumped on hospital gurneys lining the hallway while the rest lay on beds in the ER. One of the teens was in the process of being transferred upstairs to the facility's burn center with second and third-degree burns over twenty percent of his body, but he was the only serious injury. Thompson was puzzled by the reactions of the rest of the accident victims. His little blond-haired girl was more excited than scared or hurt, an attitude shared by almost all the other children. He had swept her into his arms and hugged her, only to have her giggle in his ear.

"I'm okay, Daddy," she said after he had assured himself she was all right. "A big lady saved us from the lake."

"You saw a big lady?" he had asked. "Big like Mommy?"

"Bigger. Real big," Kathy had said, waving her hand over her head in emphasis. One of his female deputies approached him and told him she had been given the same story by Billy Archer, a classmate of Kathy's. Thompson decided that making what probably was a terrifying experience into an adventure was a healthy reaction by the kids. But after his tall, willowy wife Matilda had come to the hospital and taken charge of their daughter Thompson began to orchestrate an investigation into the accident and the peculiar emphasis on "the big lady" became distracting. The two unhurt teens were shaking from hysteria and closed-mouthed about the accident--the girl especially would begin to shake every time the subject of their rescue came up, and the boy suddenly allowed as how he had been a regular methamphetamine user for a year but promised to give it up.

"I was having heavy hallucinations out on the boat, man," the boy had said. "I was so stressed I dreamed this woman who swam out to help us was huge. I mean, huge! I dreamed she lifted me out of the water and carried me to the shore, man. It was weird."

Most of the kids also seemed obsessed with the idea of a "big lady". One boy related how she held him in her hand to warm him when he was shivering all over from being in the water. Thompson's wife told him she was beginning to be worried about Kathy because she wanted to see "the giant lady" again. Even more puzzling was the reaction of the hardworking chief internist and hospital administrator, Joann Canfield. After overhearing the children talking Thompson saw Doctor Canfield's eyes grow wide, then she suddenly started guffawing and excused herself from the emergency room. Thompson had tried to ask about her unusual reaction but she had just shaken her head, convulsed with laughter. It was strange, unusual--hinky. Save for the burned boy all the kids had come through remarkably well from the boating accident, a happy event. But something was wrong, something didn't jibe, something didn't make sense.

Then there was the fax his office received that morning. Originated by the North Carolina Department of Investigation, it relayed an alert issued by the U.S. Department of Justice about a weapons theft from a military base in Texas on Sunday, which involved "possible biological weapons materials" and the reported use of airplanes. Thompson had received complaints from one resident about low-flying jet airplanes flying Sunday night from Steven Carter's private airstrip and the fax mentioned someone identified only as "Steve" as the leader of this new, apparently violent citizen's militia group. Thompson did not automatically accept the information as valid; his own experience with federal authorities had not been reassuring--a DEA raid on a purported drug lab in Polk County turned into an embarrassing experience for a combination federal-state-local law enforcement task force and a frightening experience for an eighty-year old grandmother whose only drug habit was prescription medications for arthritis--but an interview with Carter was certainly in order. Too many things happened over the last couple of days--too many strange things. Hinky. Thompson didn't like hinky things happening in his jurisdiction.

 

Twenty five minutes of rapid driving found him back in Polk County on Reservoir Road. After passing the deputy stationed at the junction of the road with the highway he slowed, following the macadam bordering the Green river, heading for the reservoir and the Carter property. Thompson had only met Carter a couple of times in Columbus three years ago, when he had proposed bringing new businesses to the county. Those businesses had generated tremendous returns and the resulting revenue permitted a ten percent drop in county taxes. Carter was a philanthropist, too, funding the building of that new hospital in Edneyville and an additional wing onto the college there, as well as a new school building in Columbus, the free senior clinic in Tryon--and the new, fully-equipped state-of-the-art patrol cars he and his deputies were using. Carter had been pleasant if quiet, Thompson recalled. Still, reports from his deputies indicated a dozen delivery trucks a day rolling up this road recently, and what about those mystery flights from his private airstrip three nights ago? Thompson needed some answers and this seemed the place to start.

Thompson's hinky meter rose several notches as Carter's house came into view. Two huge tents abutted the home and he could see another tall structure hidden in some conifers a few hundred feet away. The tents were a featureless white in color--nothing like the equipment available for rental from Asheville. Crates were stacked neatly outside the outermost tent. Thompson drove up the driveway and parked his car before the front entrance. It was four p.m. and the cloud-dappled sky was darkening--another cold front was coming down from the north, promising the possibility of snow flurries tonight. Thompson shook his head. Distracting himself by wondering about the weather was not going to get him any answers. He thumped his way up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

On the third ring the door abruptly opened. He saw the Indian-looking butler of the house, who smiled and bowed him in.

"Is Mr. Carter here?"

"Yes, sir," the butler replied. Thompson couldn't help feeling the man was concerned about something. The hinky meter jumped another notch. "If you will follow me I will bring you to him."

Thompson followed the butler through a hallway to the main floor of the home. He was impressed by the house, his eyes professionally noting the furnishings and fittings. No wonder this Carter had installed a custom-made security system. He was led around a corner and found Carter sitting at his desk. Carter rose immediately, a smile on his face.

"Hello, Sheriff Thompson," he said, smiling broadly. He held up his two hands, which were wrapped in gauze. "Please pardon me for not offering my hand. I'm afraid I got a little burned this morning. Do you want to speak to me about the accident at the lake?"

"Yes," Thompson replied. His hinky meter just went off scale--this man was nothing like the quiet, taciturn speaker at those county board meetings three years ago. He was smiling and relaxed if a little pale in the light. He waved Thompson into the living area.

"May I get you something? Coffee? Something with alcohol in it? Brian, a cup of coffee for our guest, please. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to hear what happened this morning at the reservoir," Thompson replied as Carter led him to the furniture in front of the fireplace and waved him into a chair. The butler appeared at his elbow and he accepted the proffered cup and saucer. Carter spoke quickly and easily, relating how he and a guest had been jogging near the lake that morning when they observed the boat on fire and how they had helped the children ashore.

"That was a very brave thing you did," Thompson said. "I must tell you my little girl was among the kids in that boat. I'd like to thank you personally for saving her."

"Oh, no problem," Carter said, flushing and waving his hand.

"Where is your guest? I'd like to speak to him, too," Thompson said, sipping his coffee. Steve shook his head.

"I afraid she had a business appointment in New York at two," he replied. "I can try to call her for you or get her number if you like."

She? Her? A woman? Thompson sat back in his chair. How did she leave? His deputy had been at the crossroads since just after noon to keep out the overly curious until the investigation was completed, who had reported no one leaving the Carter property; and, he had already been told by his female deputy that her husband, a mechanic at Beddington Airframes, had called to tell her he was going to be late getting home because they were still working on both of the airplanes Carter had used in the past. Carter was lying--but why? The hinky meter was rattling.

"What's her name?"

"Eleanor Andersen. I met her while I was hunting last weekend. We, ah, had an understanding, if you know what I mean. The kids were okay, then? No serious hurts?"

"They were all right as rain. You flew this Mrs. Andersen here Sunday night?"

"Miss Andersen. Yes." Thompson leaned forward and watched Carter's face carefully. He detected just the tiniest flicker of concern in the younger man's expression as he replied to his question. The hinky meter was spinning around its dial now.

"You do understand I am conducting an investigation into the accident, Mr. Carter. I really need to speak to this Miss Andersen."

"I'm sorry, sheriff. I didn't know she would be needed for your investigation. Like I said, I can get her number for you."

"I would appreciate it, Mr. Carter," Thompson replied. He looked around the vast room admiringly. "You're not doing any remodeling or building, are you?"

"No. Why?"

"Those two big tents outside, and the other tent off in the woods there," Thompson replied. "I assumed you were engaged in some serious building here. Brand new, from the look of them. Are you working on another project?"

"No, not at all. The tents are for storage."

Storage? And with a dozen trucks rumbling up the road every day since Saturday. The hinky meter exploded. Thompson made a show of sitting back in his chair, and sipped noisily from his coffee.

"Boy, that's a lot of storage room you've got there. Those two tents together are bigger than your house. Can I take a look inside them?"

"Why do you want to look inside my tents?"

"No reason, Mr. Carter. But, I am responsible for public safety and I would appreciate it if you could satisfy my concerns over what you have inside those tents."

"Sure, I see no reason why not," Carter answered. He was far too glib, Thompson thought, too glib by half. The guy was doing a good job of covering his real reasons for the tents, but not good enough.

"Also, I've been told that there's been a lot of traffic rolling through Columbus headed this way. Are you sure you're not working on some special project? I can assure you I won't tell anyone."

"No, no special project." Carter was now frowning, his eyes mirrored with concern.

"Oh, and by the way, while I'm here, I guess I should tell you that my office received a complaint from old Mack Hostetler just on the other side of the hill here," Thompson continued. "Seems that you had two flights on Sunday night and he was unhappy with the noise--flying in from the west takes you right over his property. Funny how he didn’t complain about the flight this afternoon, though. Since his son's a member of the Polk County Legislature he figures he has a direct line to my office. Funny old coot."

Thompson watched Carter's face fall. He smiled.

"Mr. Carter, what's really going on here? What's with those big tents out there? Who is this Miss Andersen of yours, really? What really happened at the reservoir today?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. He watched Steve hesitate and nervously lick his lips.

"Steve?" a female voice suddenly called into the room. Thompson was seated facing the fire so the voice came from behind him. He twisted his barrel chest in his chair to get a look at the owner of the voice.

"Steve, I think the sheriff wants the truth and we should give it to him," the voice said. Thompson saw Steve look down the anteroom behind his chair. Thompson watched Steve point his chin up towards the ceiling--and up. His face was filled with consternation, then he nodded and shrugged.

"You're right of course, Ellie," he replied. Thompson felt slightly disoriented. Why did the woman's voice suddenly sound like it was coming from upstairs instead of behind him? He pushed himself out of his chair and spun around, then found himself imitating the taller Steve.

"Oh, my dear Lord," he muttered, his voice quavering. Towering high over him stood the biggest woman he could ever have imagined. She was immense, incredibly, unbelievably immense. "Oh my dear Lord. Oh my dear Lord."

"Please don't blame Steve for lying to you, Sheriff," Ellie said. "He was trying to protect me." Ellie took another step into the living room and straightened completely. Thompson ran his hand across his forehead and blinked repeatedly. He began to lose control of his knees and felt a seat behind him just in time. He looked over his shoulder to see the indian butler shoving his chair underneath him, a look of stern disapproval on his face.

"Sheriff Russell Thompson, I'd like you to meet Eleanor Andersen," Steve said, a tired edge to his voice. "Ellie, Russell Thompson."

"My dear Lord," Thompson muttered. "What--what?"

"I'm glad the children were all okay, Sheriff," Ellie said as she moved clear of the furniture and slowly fell to her knees. Thompson almost leaped out of his chair at the sight.

"Yes-yes, they're fine," he heard himself say.

"Which one was your daughter?"

"Ah-ah, my--Kathy, Kathy's my daughter."

"She has blond hair? I remember her. She is a very pretty girl."

"Why, I--thank you." Thompson closed his eyes to fight the sense of disorientation he was experiencing. He opened them again, but it didn't help. The giantess was still there, sitting on her heels. She had to be at least twenty feet tall. She was so big. He closed his eyes again.

"I am very sorry I lied to you, Sheriff," Steve said, walking over to stand beside Ellie's knee. She reached out to stroke his back. "I just don't want Ellie getting hurt."

"Her? Getting hurt? What--how--" Thompson visibly shook himself. "Please excuse me, but would you kindly tell me what the hell's going on here?"

Ellie and Steve retold their story to Thompson while Hadad silently served them all drinks. Thompson gulped down the cold beer he was offered without tasting it.

"When I saw the children starting jumping out of the boat I had to act," Ellie continued. "I waded out to them and carried them to shore then held them against myself to keep them warm until help arrived. Then I took Steve home--he was burned on his hands saving the teenager who was piloting the boat and had inhaled a lot of smoke. We thought that perhaps my appearance would be dismissed as a fantastic story created by scared children. I guess we were wrong."

"This-this thing you said you touched," Thompson said. "Where is it?"

"In one of my labs," Steve replied. "I'm hoping we can find out how and why it's making Ellie grow. Maybe then it can be counteracted."

Thompson shook his head again. He stood upright and looked at the amazing couple before him. The giant woman had wrapped one hand around Steve's shoulder and upper arm and he had reached up to stroke her hand gently. There was an obvious spark between them, which was more amazing still.

"But-but the government's got to be informed about this," Thompson began. "There's got to be something--"

"They already know," Ellie replied, her voice flat. Thompson looked up at her.

"Yes, you told me about your flight from Brooks Air Force Base." He said. "But surely there are facilities better equipped to deal with--"

"Deal with a twenty-three foot woman?" Ellie finished. "Sheriff, those people treated me like I was some sort of specimen in a jar. I'm never going back to them, ever."

"I won't let them get their hands on Ellie again," Steve said at the same time. Thompson looked from one to the other again. He rubbed his face over his mouth and chin.

"I keep thinking this is some kind of dream," he said softly. "But it's not. It's as real as it can be." He started laughing, his eyes crinkled. "I feel like I've fallen into one of those stories I used to read in comic books. Look, folks, I-I have no idea what to do about this. It's not just my girl who's entranced with the 'big lady', but the entire fourth grade class from Blessed Sacrament school. Mattie--my wife-- was worried about Kathy telling her how she wants to see 'the giant lady' again. You made yourself a lot of little friends out there on the reservoir today, Miss Andersen--"

"Please, call me Ellie, Sheriff," Ellie said, smiling. Thompson was shaking from adrenaline and surprise.

"Yes, of course. Ellie, I'd like to thank you for saving my little girl--for saving all the kids out there today." Thompson held out his hand. He was unable to stop all the tremors in his arm. Ellie's smile broadened and she moved her hand very deliberately to take Thompson's hand between her thumb and forefinger.

"You're welcome--but Steve helped, too," she replied, pressing his hand gently.

"Not as much as you did, sweetheart," Steve piped up. Hadad had poured himself a gin and tonic and now offered a silent toast to the couple.

"Thank you both, then," Thompson replied. He wiped his brow. "Boy, I have no idea how I'm going to explain all this."

"Explain this?" Steve asked. Thompson saw Ellie's face darken.

"To my wife. Kathy was pestering her to go back to the reservoir to see the big lady." Thompson chuckled, then sobered. "And there are other concerns." He hesitated for a moment, then told them about the citizen's militia communiqué. Both their faces darkened into an angry sadness.

"So, I'm leader of a citizen's militia group, huh?" Steve growled. "It's starting to sound like a good idea."

"Steve," Ellie said, admonishing him. He looked up at her and sighed. Thompson reached out and touched Steve's shoulder.

"You can be assured that the Department of Justice will not hear from me," he said. "You are safe here, at least for the moment."

 

Growth Encounter part 8