Chapter 47: Psychic Vigilante

Back at school after the holiday, Tamara felt that her rhythm was off—she had just three days back at school and then she’d be gallivanting off again on yet another trip. She spent a lot of hours working on the RF generator field calculations to work out the most efficient coil circuit layout geometry. She also consulted her work on the coil design which had produced the powerful repulsive/magnetic field she had observed; she didn’t want to inadvertently use a coil geometry which would produce a similar effect. Her calculations were completed by early afternoon on Thursday and she closed up her computer to go to her quantum engineering class. This was an essential class for her; she had been working with mesoscopic systems for two years now and this class would help her in learning how the mathematics which described quantum electrodynamics applied to the physical world where engineers would be designing working equipment.

When the class was over, she and Peter rushed home to finish packing. Barbara had put together a list of things that they needed to bring and her apartment, being larger, was the staging area. Besides, as Tamara pointed out with a smirk, much of her living room was presently occupied by this Faraday cage thingie...

Terence had also brought his things over too. Fortunately, they were going to a nudist event and wouldn’t need a lot of clothes—for a weekend, anyway. Barbara’s car was a small SUV so it had a good cargo capacity; they planned to stop for the food and consumable supplies when they got close to the destination. Peter and Terence were also drivers so they planned to split that chore, and to save time, they packed meals to eat while on the road. On Thursday evening, they packed the car, went to dinner together, and went back to Barbara’s apartment. Terence would be staying over at Barbara’s but Tamara had some more work she needed to finish before the trip, so she went back to her apartment. An email had arrived from her patent attorney group while she was in class and she needed to answer it; the records she needed to refer to were in her apartment.

She also was still trying to decide whether to take her EMP device, her masers, or both. She rarely went anywhere without those masers and now that the power supply was so small, they were much easier to carry. Deciding that being prepared was the better choice, everything went into her backpack, along with what Peter had called her “whole frikkin’ electronics shop.”

The next morning the group got together for breakfast and while Tamara and Barbara made their lunches, the guys stowed the remaining articles in the car. After everyone did a quick check of their emails, it was time to go. Barbara had been texting Stacy and found out that their team had been duly registered that morning; everyone on both teams, except themselves, was there and waiting for their arrival.

The trip was long but uneventful. After a fast food stop for dinner and a grocery trip, they arrived at the resort and registered. Then someone from the club helped them find the rest of the team. They got the car parked and the team members welcomed them with happy greetings. They had wanted to enter a competitive women’s team for years and Tamara and Barbara had made doing that possible.

There were eight women on the team now. Of the original six, Stacy was the captain, a solid “B” player and an excellent setter, while Robin played defense. She was also ranked as a “B” player. Her usual role was libero or defensive specialist but her 5 foot-3 inch height limited her offensive effectiveness. Anne was another “B” player and was good all around, particularly at the net. Judy and Rosa were good at defense but were poor blockers and couldn’t reliably place spikes, while Carla was barely a “C” level player but had a powerful serve. Tamara and Barbara would bring a strong offensive capability to the team, and because half of the team members were “B” players, they had registered as a “B” team.

The opening ceremonies, which Tamara found to be really interesting, featured a spirited welcome for everyone and a quick review of the tournament’s ground rules; then the prior year’s championship teams were recognized. Then the dance began. Since play was to begin at 8 a.m., no one from the team stayed late but they could hear revelers partying into the wee hours.

The following morning, everyone was up early because their first games were scheduled to be at 8 a.m. The team had decided to move Barbara and Tamara around in their offensive roles because they were so versatile. This would keep the other team guessing about how their opponents would attack the ball. The new team members didn’t disappoint the veterans either; they made some particularly memorable plays. For the first set’s beginning serve, Tamara’s team was in service-receive and Tamara was playing middle blocker. Stacy, in Zone 1 at the right back court, had called for a quick set play. When the ball was served, Stacy ran up to the right-side net, Zone 2, to prepare for taking the pass. Barbara was playing outside hitter and she began to run in to the net’s center as Stacy began to set the pass from Zone 2, drawing the defensive blockers to the center, but Tamara came in behind Stacy as she set the ball, and as soon as it cleared the net, Tamara leaped and put away the kill, spiking it behind the opposing blockers.

Two rallies later, Stacy called for a “4-set” fake and took the pass from Robin, the libero. She lofted a high arc set toward Zone 4, the left side of the net, and Barbara charged toward the ball and jumped, swinging at the ball and drawing three blockers on defense, who all leaped, arms raised, right in front of her. Suddenly, Barbara ducked out of the way and Tamara was there, racing in from the right, and lefty, slammed the ball to the opposite side of the defenders.

After several more points, Stacy called for an “X play” and Barbara and Tamara both charged the net from two different directions as Stacy did a low set to Tamara in the middle. She faked a spike with her right as the blockers were drawn in that direction but hit the ball with her left, away from them.

When the score was 11-3 in favor of Tamara’s team, the rotation now put her in Zone 2 and she’d play opposite hitter for the rotation. On receiving the service, the pass from Rosa, who took the serve, was off and it drew Stacy well out of position. Stacy managed to get to the ball and put it up in a very high set but it went toward the right antenna, back about five feet from the net. Tamara was facing Stacy and instantly saw where the ball would fall; it would be too far for Barbara, playing middle, to reach it, and Tamara was facing in the wrong direction for a spike. She leaped for the ball as it dropped and executed what in basketball would be a perfect hook shot. It was a backward slam over the net, a reverse spike, and caught the defense completely by surprise—the only possible recovery shot from that kind of bad set, after all, would be a high arc over the net to keep the rally going. Instead, Tamara had a kill. The spectators who were watching erupted in shouts of surprise and delight and suddenly Tamara had become the player to watch.

Her teammates gathered around her in congratulation while members of the opposing team complained to the referee.

“She’s sandbagging,” several of the defenders complained. “Look at her plays; she’s way better than a ‘B.’”

The referee called Tamara over and Stacy, the captain, came with her.

“Miss, what’s your playing level?” the referee asked.

“Huh?” Tamara said, confused.

“He means your skill level,” Stacy clarified. “We’re a ‘B’ level team. You told us you never competed before, right?”

“That’s right,” Tamara answered. Then to the referee, “This is my first competition anywhere. I learned to play in high school gym class and then had some lessons at my resort last month.”

“Really?” he asked. “You’ve never played organized volleyball before? Your play does seem better than ‘B’ level.”

“Never played. In high school, the teacher said that I was very good and should be on their team, but I didn’t have the time to do sports then.”

The referee turned to the players who had complained.

“I’m taking her word for her playing experience. She’s got a natural talent and we can’t assign her to a level until she’s played in a tournament.”

There was some annoyed muttering from the complainers but the referee got the game going again. Tamara’s team won the first set 25-6 and meanwhile, word of her play, and Barbara’s too, had spread, so by the end of the match, there was a fairly large crowd of watchers. Barbara was also showing herself to be a good player; she was a powerhouse at the net and had a wicked serve. Her serves were very deceptive; they didn’t have lots of power; she hit overhand floaters with no spin at all, so when the ball began to drop on the other side of the net, it seemed to weave, flutter, and swerve and dip unpredictably. She served five aces until the receivers figured out how to get a good pass to their setter. They won the next set with a closer score, 25-18.

Since this was a round-robin tournament and there were twelve “B” teams competing, the amount of time available allowed teams to advance by winning just two sets out of three instead of the typical three out of five. Tamara’s team did extremely well and even the team’s lesser-skilled members made strong contributions.

In the finals on the following day, they came in second in the “B”s, losing by the scores of 25-23, 22-25, and 29-27, to a very experienced Canadian team, every one a strong “B” player. Tamara’s group stayed for several hours after their own finals to watch the featured finals, the men’s and women’s “A” and “AA” finals, And when the awards were presented, Tamara and Barbara were told by the officials’ group that their play level was judged to be upper intermediate, or “BB,” and they could continue to compete at the “B” level until their skills were re-evaluated.

When the two resort teams met after their playoffs, Barbara and Tamara were the center of attention. Stacy was very vocal in her praise.

“Guys,” she announced, “For an inexperienced player, Tamara has more ball sense than most players I’ve ever seen. That reverse spike she pulled off in our very first game—that was the prettiest play that I’ve ever seen.”

“And Barbara’s serve was crazy,” Robin told the others. “Indoors, it wouldn’t be a hard one to handle. But outdoors, that ball was all over the place. A tiny breeze would push it and the receiver would miss it, misplay it, or shank it. Five aces in a row, wow!”

“We’re sorry we couldn’t get to see your games,” Rick told them. “But we did hear a lot of chatter from the watchers about some really good players on a gals’ ‘B’ team. Do tell, what were they talking about? And what magic did Tamara pull off? We heard about a gal who pulled off an impossible play; that must have been the reverse spike you mentioned.”

Rick’s team had been third in their own “B” matches.

To Tamara’s and Barbara’s embarrassment, their teammates recited almost a blow-by-blow description of their more interesting plays.

“Yeah, but you guys are ignoring your own great plays,” Tamara retorted. “That one where you threw yourself almost flat on the ground, Robin, and got the ball to bounce off your hand ... I saw how you scratched your chest, ouch!”

“That’s called a ‘pancake,’ Tamara,” Robin grinned. “And we liberos are used to bruises and scratches.”

Then the guys related their own game exploits and all of the regular team members agreed that this outing had been their resort’s best Superbowl performance ever. Even though it was getting late and they were still pumped up and excited from the tournament, Tamara’s group reluctantly began to pack up to head home.

On the ride home, Tamara decided to see if she had gotten any email on Friday, so she kept her backpack with her to get to her laptop as they traveled. They had gotten a late start; they wouldn’t arrive home until around 11:30 p.m. Peter was driving and Barbara decided that she wanted him to stop for gas as they reached the Baltimore outskirts. They pulled off the highway and Peter drove into a station. There was a single car there, parked next to the convenience store door.

Something touched Tamara’s premonition sense—it was a strong warning of danger. She looked at the car in the station and then into the store as Peter slowly approached the pumps.

“Peter!” she called. “Quick! Get out of here! Go slow; don’t speed; just drive out.”

“Huh,” Peter grunted and began to drive away as a guy jumped out of the idling car, and Tamara saw him pointing a pistol in their direction.

“Call 911,” Tamara told Barbara. “There’s a holdup back there. Peter, make a u-turn here and stop.”

“Whatta you doing?” he began as he stopped but Tamara was out of the car as soon as it stopped.

Making herself “small,” Tamara dashed the hundred yards back to the station, staying in the shadows, and hid behind a gas pump as a guy ran out of the convenience shop and jumped into the waiting car. Tamara had taken both her EMP device and one of her masers with her and aimed them as the car began to move away from the building. She had both on full power and kept the maser pointed at the car. She triggered the EMP unit over and over, a half dozen times, as the driver tried to accelerate but the car didn’t respond. With a clatter, the car’s engine stopped and the car rolled into some bollards in front of a row of parking spaces. The hood popped and steam rose from under the engine. Then she gave the car a ten-second-long final EMP burst at full power and saw smoke rising from the underside of the car. She saw the guys in the car moving around inside as if they were trying to get out as she slipped away, moving back into the shadows, and then ran back to Barbara’s car. Just as she got into it, a police car zipped past them, lights flashing, and drove into the station.

“What the hell was that about?” Peter demanded as she got into the car.

“Drive away. I’ll tell you,” Tamara said as she picked up her pack, put her devices away, and got her cell phone out. “I’ve got a police scanner app on my cell. Let’s see what we pick up.”

She opened the app, found Baltimore, and selected the county’s sheriff’s department.

“... 10-4. Just one vehicle, appears disabled. Backup requested.”

“Unit 32, 10-4, two units responding; advise three minutes.”

“10-4. Uh oh, suspects in vehicle appear to be breaking a window? What?”

“32, not understood. Say again.”

“Roger, dispatch. Suspects in the vehicle must be trapped inside. Ah, firearm discharged. Advise responding units to proceed with caution. Active shooter.”

“10-4, 32. Active shooter. Advising.”

There was about a 30-second silence, then, “Dispatch, backup arrived. Going open mike.”

Tamara and her friends heard the deputy use his loudspeaker to demand that the occupants exit the vehicle; then there was a hurried conversation between the deputy and someone else; it appeared that the perps couldn’t get the door open and had tried shooting at the lock. They had also tried breaking the windows but couldn’t get enough of the glass out of the way to squeeze through. They heard someone call an order to drop their weapons out of the window and put their hands on the top of the dashboard. Then it became difficult to understand; they couldn’t hear much more since the sound was too confused and noisy, so Tamara shut the app down...

“Okay now, Wonder Woman,” Peter said, somewhat annoyed. “We have an idea what you did. Oh, and thanks for the warning—I don’t wanna think of what coulda happened if we stopped there. But why did you get involved?”

Tamara sighed. “I’m not sure. Something like that happened to me once before and I felt compelled ... oh, right, those guys then were rapists...”

“What do you mean, ‘those guys’?” Barbara asked. “At the gas station?”

“No, not there. Before, when this happened. At the beach in Miami, some guys were bothering the girls I was with. Something pushed me to interfere then. Then the cops got there and handled it and I found out later that they had raped someone.”

Terence had been quiet until now, but he spoke up. “Y’all, it’s goin’ on eleven now; y’think that’ll be on the news?”

Barbara grunted, “Oh sure—with that much of a police response, yeah. Let’s get the local news on.”

She got the radio tuned into a news/talk programming station. In about ten minutes, the event was mentioned.

The reporter was introduced, and then she said, “It appears that the recent string of gas station robberies might be broken, according to a spokesman from the state police. Less than a half-hour ago, sheriff’s deputies and state police units had responded to a report that the Jiffy Gas Station here in West Friendship in Howard County had a hold-up in progress. A 911 call had come in and when the first deputy responded, he found an extremely strange situation. I spoke to Lieutenant Marby of the state police several minutes ago and here’s what he had to say.”

Reporter: “You said this was an unusual situation.”

Marby: “Exactly. When the first deputy arrived at the scene, there was a single vehicle here and it had crashed into a parking barrier near the building. Its occupants seemed to be trapped inside, they even discharged a firearm inside to try to get out, after attempts to break out enough of a window failed for them.”