Chapter 3: LIGHT AT THE TUNNELS END

Today, the tugboat ‘Sport’ is returning Crescent City from Jacksonville Naval Air Station (NAS, JAX), intending to reconnect with her barge, ‘YNGHOUSE’.

Declared a holiday and an Enghowser family reunion, a gala reception is planned. SPORT is bringing special guests. Something resembling, or claiming to be a man and his two companions.

The Enghowser tribe is the self-styled extended family residing aboard YNGHOUSE, SPORT, and some living in the refurbished family mansion across the road from where YNGHOUSE docks.

During the Enghowser’s far flung manhunt for stud recruitment, their scouts encounter the legend May wished to avoid creating. Linda believes May is the monster of the legend but doubts she’s stalking the Blue Ridge western piedmont. A yardstick laid on a map, from Crescent City through the site of the monster’s murderous attack, points to Gothenburg, Nebraska as a probable destination.

Linda, acclaimed Sheriff of Putnam county, sends a team of Dan-no deputies to Gothenburg with orders to arrest the roguebot May Day, if she’s found.

The feds at the new capital will be notified Crescent City, Florida is an autonomous civic community encompassing all of the St John’s River and adjacent areas, including the Florida coast. Allegiance to the Empress and her puppets is not offered. President Abbot will not be recognized by Enghowsers as president of a restored USA.

Next?

Linda is working to clear her desk of all concerns and distractions prior to SPORT’s arrival. The guests and their unusual tale, are her sole focus. The pending celebration has practically zero interest for her. She has the chain-locker dungeon prepared, hosed down, ready to house prisoners. Scratch that off the list. Finished, Inbox empty.

Picking up the marine VHF mic, Linda hails SPORT. Captain Beth responds and reports they’re just entering the lake. Expect them to be at the pier in one hour, more or less. A more accurate ETA isn’t possible, because of low water levels and heavy silting. SPORT is having to dig her way into the lake with her propellers. As Captain Beth blithely puts it, the channel is deeper after they have passed.

“I understand, Captain. Slow going, certainly. What’s a Wati? Your text message mentions a Wati.”

“Wati is the name of one of our guests. He-she says they’re a lady-boy. Confuses hell out of me even to discuss it.”

“Confuses hell out of me why a lady-boy would be of any interest to us. Why are you bringing it here?”

“Because it showed up here. This isn’t a secure transmission Sheriff.”

“Unwise to explain on an open channel. Got it. Anxiously awaiting your arrival, Captain. Plan change. Coming to you. CC clear.”

Linda re-reads the SPORT’s text message.

“danger cures all immortal other world tale dos nina plus Wati”

Still doesn’t make sense. Code word danger means clear the decks for action. Her desk is cleared. This sounds too urgent to wait on SPORT. Linda calls for her boat on the police band. She locks her office and heads down to the pier to board the Sheriffs Dept patrol boat that will take her out to SPORT.

Somebody better be able to explain this.

Aboard SPORT, Linda joins Captain Beth and guests, for coffee in the dining hall.

“This is a rather exposed location for a secure meeting, Captain.”

“This compartment is all our guests have seen. I wish to keep our extent of exposure confined to minimum. It’s currently off limits to everyone but us. Crew takes their meals on deck till further notice.”

“You don’t want our ‘guests’ to see more of SPORT than absolutely necessary?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Okay. Which one of you is a Wati?”

“That’s my name.” A slender long haired person claims. From the nice tits filling her shirt, you would immediately identify her as female. Linda has information to the contrary. It’s a he with tits.

“And you’re a lady-boy?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a he, a she, or an it?”

“A he. I’m a fully functional male and father of several dozen kids.”

“The kids with you undoubtedly representative. I won’t ask how many mothers. Obviously more than one. You must have been busy, you’re certainly under thirty years old. Where are you folks from?”

“The ladies are ancient Wee folk, and certainly NOT my children.”

“I am Jan Ubewary, of the Duende.”

“And I’m Asuka of the Yosei, but call me Luz or Lucy.”

“Duende? Yosei? Never heard of either. Are those cities, countries, islands, or what?”

“This is difficult. Very difficult to explain in the few words of your language I’ve been able to learn so far. Talk with us and we’ll be able to talk better in a short time. Come with me, and I’ll show you where we come from. Then with common references we can discuss it. Without common reference points, it’s going to be even harder for you. Even if I explain adequately, you aren’t prepared to accept it.”

“Quote by Albert Einstein, ‘The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.’ You must think we’re that stupid beyond limits, to go somewhere with you without an explanation of where you’re taking us.”

“To my ship. We come from another ship, very near by. Come see.”

“Well, you should have said that first off. Where’s your ship?” Captain Beth expresses exasperation at unnecessary, inexcusable wastes of her time and all delays.

“Come, I’ll show you. Jan? Luz? Would you please remain here until we return? As surety of these good folks safety.”

Wati moves from his seat at the table to a pantry beneath a stairway only a few yards distant. Opening the pantry door, he indicates they should follow him inside, and goes in. Only Linda follows.

She follows Wati into a circular hole in the deck, and a long climb down a thirty foot ladder mounted inside a vertical tube open at both ends. She can see the lighted circles top and bottom representing the tube ends. At the bottom, she exits onto the bridge of Eros. Outside the Eros bridge windows is an underwater seascape of the Indian Ocean sea-floor’s rock formations and reefs near the west coast of Thailand. To be more exact, the coast of Phuket Island, Thailand.

“Welcome aboard Eros, Sheriff.” Wati grins. “This way, please.”

“Leading her down a short inclined fixed in place steel ladder, they emerge on the deck below. Linda calculates they must be at least fifty feet below SPORT’s dining hall. With this draft, it’s a miracle SPORT can budge at all. Wati leads her into a cabin set up for dining or meeting. It has a huge round table welded to the deck in its center surrounded by welded down swivel chairs. Wati leads on.

Passing through some impressive bank vault security doors, deliberately left wide open, they pass through an ordinary screen door into a rustic well used farm kitchen. From there, they pass through the small house onto a roofed balustrade rimmed front porch overlooking a working ranch’s central barnyard.

“Wati? I need to sit down. A chair please? My head is spinning.”