Chapter 36

When I woke up, Kimmie was spooned in front of me. And as I had expected, my arm was over her waist and my hand was cupping her breast. But I also knew she was awake because her hand was lightly caressing the back of my hand. I stretched a bit and whispered good morning, and she then just rested her hand on the back of mine. “Good morning, you were not kidding. I woke up, and there your hand was.”

“And obviously you did not climb out of bed screaming either.”

She turned and looked at me, and kissed my cheek. “No, it felt nice actually. Comforting. So what are your plans this morning?”

“Well, let me ask this first. And I mean it just as last night. You have to check out today, would you spend the rest of the convention here with me? I will still move and sleep on the couch. But I missed you Kimmie, and want to spend a lot of the weekend with you.”

“Yes, I can do that.” She smiled, and I smiled back.

“OK, go ahead and go back to your room, take a shower and get dressed, we will meet at 8 downstairs at the buffet. We will be joined by several others at around 8:30, then somebody is going to get arrested.”

“Wait, arrested?” I laughed and kissed her very softly, a kiss she returned. “Not me, go get your shower, and pack up. I will explain while we eat, then we can move your things down here.”

She grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom as I started the coffee. She came out dressed in what she wore the night before, and hugged me, and said she would see me shortly. I took my shower and decided on simple. A pair of faded jeans, my tan square-toed western boots, and a denim shirt. I had my coffee, then saw it was almost 8 so headed downstairs. I stopped at the counter for the convention and had them give me my guest badge. I handed it to Kimmie when she joined me, in black jeans and a tank top that had “Hello Kitty” on it, but wearing scrubs with a stethoscope. And said “Hello Doctor” under it. I laughed and said that Sanrio had really invaded the US since I had left.

I paid for the buffet and we got our plates, and when we sat down at a large table in the center I explained to her about the crook I had found the day before. “In short, soon we are meeting a few others, including a Detective. My publisher Brad is going to buy an autographed copy of one of my works, and then he is getting arrested for fraud. We have also arranged a witness that can report this on his BBS.”

“You have to tell me about what a BBS is sometime, I really don’t get it.” I chuckled and said I would. A few minutes later Brad joined us, and I introduced the two of them. We were going over what we would do when Rob showed up. He seemed taken by Kimmie, and they were chatting when the Detective came up with one other. And the plan was simple. Right after 9 we would enter the vendor area and purchase the book. The detective would be close enough to observe, and Rob would be filming it all with my video camera. Once the purchase was made and if Brad held the book in his right hand as we left, they would make the arrest. If it was in his left hand, they would meet us outside.

Rob went in first and spent several minutes filming what all the vendors had. And he made it a point to tape the display we were going to check out. He was off to the side when Brad and I approached. The guy grinned, and opened the case and pulled a copy of Spillikan’a. Signed right across Mandy’s cover illustration in red. I would NEVER deface Mandy’s art in that way, and just seeing that made me furious. And once again, “Pete Culver”. Brad handed over $200 in sequential bills that the detective already had the serial number for, and holding it in his right hand we walked away. We only stepped a few feet when I heard “You are under arrest,” behind us.

None of us had even noticed the undercover Detective had been on the side of the display, and he was already handcuffing the guy. Two uniformed officers came in and searched him as the Detective read him his rights. A chair was brought in and a crowd was forming as he was sat in the chair and the key for the cabinet removed and it was unlocked.

The guy was protesting his innocence and saying he did nothing wrong in a loud voice. Brad had put his copy of the book on the counter, and I smiled and took out my copy and placed it right next to it. “Sir, let me clear the air right now. You see, I am Peter Culver. My friends call me ‘Pete’, but I always sign my name ‘Peter’. I have signed less than two dozen copies of this book, all in silver ink, never red. And my dear friend Amanda Carol made this artwork, I would absolutely NEVER sign over her art, only to the side. I have signed thousands of copies of my works, never once over the illustrations. All of these copies you have for sale with my signature, they are all forgeries. Every. Single. One. That is not even close to my signature, and I bet every single copy in here by others are fake also.”

Wisely, the guy shut up then. The detective was removing all of the books, and he had not six copies of my works, but eighteen. Three copies of each, all signed. In total, over fifty “signed” works were removed, and Brad removed some faxes of covers by some of his other writers, and four more were identified as fakes.

Brad then handed over the cease and desist order, and said he was forbidden from ever selling his works ever again. The security guy and his people packed up his stall as the guy was led away, and the GM of the convention asked for anybody who had bought signed works from him to come to the front counter. “We can not refund them, but we will have the case number so you can take legal action against him.”

I then called out that I was doing a presentation on Sunday, and if anybody wanted my signature, to come by and watch it. “I have never charged for an autograph, ever. The absolutely closest I have ever done is signed limited releases, but the signature itself has always been free.” Several applauded at that, and soon we were in a room, Brad and I giving our statements and the Detective asked for the tape that Robert had been making.

“Detective, that is actually mine, can I ask that you make a copy and return it? It’s actually for my own personal use.” He smiled and nodded, and promised he would have it back by the end of the day. “Oh, and this is going to get a lot bigger. We are sure now that the judge will sign off on the search warrant, I wanna see what all we can find at his store and house.”

We all went and had lunch, and Brad bought for all four of us. Kimmie was impressed, and said so. “Has this happened before?”

“Well, this is the first time we caught somebody at it,” I said. “My signature is probably one of the most common, I have signed tens of thousands of things over the years. I have even been known to go through vendor areas and sign all my works they had, for free. And most did not charge extra, it’s just to help them sell faster. At most, they might add in $5 more. At my store, we sold copies signed by both Mandy and I at no extra charge. It’s just for the fans, not to make more money.”

Brad nodded. “Pete here will sign almost anything. Hell, he has even signed breasts before.” I blushed, and Kimmie punched me as Rob gaped. “Well, she said she did not have any of my adventures, and wanted me to sign there. Mandy and Holly both were there and told me to do it, so I did.”

“Well, was she cute?” Kimmie asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, she was. For all of being maybe 16 I would guess. I stopped chasing jailbait when I was jailbait myself though.” We all laughed, and Rob looked at us funny. “Rob, remember that when I started in this crazy business, this guy here seduced an innocent kid with his tales of wealth and fame.” Brad snorted. “I was 16, and he would let me take my girlfriend and best friend, put us up in suites, and then throw me in front of hundreds then thousands of people, exploiting me in order to get rich himself.”

Brad then started to laugh, as Rob stared. Kimmie giggled and said “Oh, I heard all about those orgies Pete. Bottles of champagne, and half-naked girls running around the suite in their panties and little else.”

Rob was really gaping now, and I laughed. “Rob, it was really not like that. In truth, Brad here has been very honest, and even almost a decade later I work closely with him and consider him my friend. He was even the first node of GamerNET outside of the LA area. My best friend is Holly, you might know her best as ‘Kaos’ from the adventure tapes. It would be me, Holly, her boyfriend, my girlfriend, and me in a two room suite. The champagne came from my dad, and it was at most two bottles a night, for four of us. The girls in long T-shirts and panties and us guys in sweat pants as that is what we wore to sleep. Just four High School geeks having fun at a convention. I think once we had seven or eight of us crammed in the suite. In fact, mostly it was a way for us to go to conventions and have Rob pay for it. And we both benefited. Brad got more sales, which got me more royalties. I have actually written adventures for other companies, and many have offered me a lot more money than Brad does. I stick with him mostly because he is a great guy, and fair. And also a real friend.”

“I actually have all of your tapes also. And just wish I could afford to go to Idaho in October and see one.”

“Well, tell Pete here to write more then. He has slowed down a lot the last year. But I promise you, when we do another in the LA area, you will have tickets so you can be there. I want to be able to hold those at least once or twice a year, but his writing has really slowed lately.”

“Well, it’s hard when you are as busy as I am. I essentially run two businesses now, and the new one is keeping me so busy it’s hard to get away.”

“Pete, take my advice. You are heading to an early heart attack. I should know, I had one at 42. Delegate your authority more, pass the work to others. In fact, want a word of advice?”

I nodded and he smiled. “I know your game store part does OK, but it is not your main focus anymore. Spin that off, find somebody you trust, make a real game store out of it, and put them in charge. Make out a deal to sell it off to them eventually. We do that in business all the time.”

I closed my eyes and smiled. “OK, I will do that. There is an open store where my first shop is, I will find a few people I trust and move that over there. It also gives me more room in the computer shop.”

“There you go. Take vacations, that is what half of these conventions are for me. I get away from the stress of work and just relax for a few days. Play some games, meet new people. Oh yes, I work at them, but it’s not hard work. Rob, I met this kid at a tiny convention up in the La Cañada area. It was tiny, the entire building was the size of the main floor here. This kid here was 16, and it was the first Kaos adventure. At that time it only included the first part, but it was incredible. It was funny, it was well written, it included some pop culture references, and the entire thing took place outside. It was so short though I told him I needed more, about three time as big. You know what he did?” Rob shook his head, and I saw Kimmie listening in. Even I was, I had never heard him tell about our first meeting this way before.

“Most guys would just expand it. Make it bigger, make it play longer. The first one I saw was maybe two hours of playing time. You know how it goes I’m sure. He already had the Dagger of Healing in it even then! Well, he then sent me the next part, it literally picked up where the first ended off. Another complete two hour adventure. Then he sent me the last part, and this was six hours in total. All in complete two hour chunks. And they all meshed together perfectly. That was when I knew he was something special. And he still writes that way, most of his adventures even today can be done in a single two or three hour session. But they are dense, incredibly dense. I have seen people in the audience go from laughter to anger to crying, all within 10 minutes. He plays with your emotions, bends your mind and way of thinking, and shatters illusions. All in the context of playing a game.”

“That’s why everybody I play with loves his stuff. It’s funny, the first time I played the Darkness one, the Paladin was being played by a black kid I went to school with. As expected he charged the black elves, and when he realized they were not evil he insisted it was a trick and charged again! The DM stripped his paladinhood there on the spot when he hit the first one. It took him a while to realize that Pete was writing about race and that we had to ignore our own prejudices and accept people for who they are. Not how they look. Kinda like his girlfriend here, some would look at them funny because of that, no offense.”

Kimmie giggled and reached and took my hand. “Oh, Pete is not my boyfriend. We went to school together, he dated my best friend for years. I was here for a medical convention, and this is the first time we have been together for, how long Pete?”

“Around six years, I last saw you in 1984, when I went to Japan.”

“Yes, six years. Pete here has this gift. He tends to collect women around him, and he relies on us. He needs us, but it’s not sexual. And we all trust him, and feel comfortable with him.”

“I used to joke that Peter went to conventions with his own posse. He would show up, and at least two, sometimes as many as four or five girls would be with him. All beautiful, all geek gamers, and all very nice girls. Who all came to these things Pete?”

“Well, let me see. Here in California that would be Linda, Holly, Mandy, Peggy, Frannie, Lisa, and Becky. Dee on the outer edges. And in Okinawa, it was Franny, Jacki, and Debbie.”

“Not Kimmie?”

“No Rob, not Kimmie. She has never been into this, but she and Julie who runs my store now were good and close friends and we were together all the time back home. But they were never really into games. Julie does like my news reporter series, but she does not really get into D&D. But she is part of the group that helps me test all the GURPS games I made for Steve Jackson. Mostly as the lead investigator.”

“I have not played those, but am aware of them. Maybe I should look into it.”

“Well, just remember they are more serious mystery stories than these are. That can make them harder because you really do have to figure it all out on your own. When the group thinks they have it all figured out, they have to give me a basic rundown of the article they will write, and the key points they are claiming. I then critique them and say how accurate the report was. In one, for example, they had claimed that this high-level mob boss had arranged to have his boss arrested so he could take over. In fact, that was not what happened, but the mob read the article and had him killed. But I also told them it did not matter, he was a murderer and if they had not reported that he was about to be arrested by the FBI and executed anyways.”

We finished lunch, and once we had moved Kimmie’s stuff to my room we headed over to the room we had reserved for the test game. Brad had Rob wait in the hallway, and said he was to not let on he knew us. And 30 minutes later he brought everybody in, and told them what was expected. They all signed the non-disclosure agreement and he sent the others waiting away and we started.

The Thunderbird was based on the “American Indian” mythos, as laid out in the D&D Legends and Lore book. Generic “Indian Gods”, and was in reality a trick. They were thrown in during the middle of a war and sent out by a “Generic Medieval European” state to scout out a local tribe that had been raiding their settlements. The tribe was nomadic and had wandered far out of their normal range. No matter what, the party would be ambushed by them, and captured.

Once there, a shaman of Earth would tell them that the spirits and gods were angered, and was sending them to take vengeance on the colonies for destroying sacred sites. That in fact, was both true and false. Coyote was trying to play a trick, and thought it would be funny to have them move into an area that Thunder thought important to him. Not realizing that the shiny metal that they used for ornaments for their dead was highly valued by these strange people. So instead of just moving in, they started to desecrate graves for the pretty metal. And in retaliation, Thunder had started to withhold the rain, as a way to punish the Kingdom and try to drive them out.

The shaman of Coyote would tell the players he would help them escape if they promised to help put an end to the war. Coyote was only trying to play a prank and did not mean to cause an actual war. Assisting the party would be the shaman of Wolf, a deity I had to create as TSR for some reason left him out of their book. The shaman of Wolf was the son of the War Chief of the tribe, and the shaman of Coyote tricks him into joining the party, saying they were trying to find a secret weakness in the defenses of the Kingdom.

If done right, the party would help them calm the Feudal kingdom down, and help establish borders between the two nations, and establish trade, so that they would get their gold in exchange for tools and other crafts. But it was also possible to simply help them destroy the tribe, or help the tribe to wage full war on the Kingdom.

Only the best ending would see the Kingdom agree to leave the holy sites alone, and the shaman of Coyote himself would reconsecrate the site. It would then end with Thunder himself appearing. A huge black eagle, arriving in a storm and announcing to all that the rains would return, the tribes could return to their normal range, and all was forgiven. He would also bless the Kingdom with increased rain and better crops.

This group got the best ending and they were surprised when it was all said and done. They all liked it, but one of them asked me what it all meant. “I mean, there is a lot of mysticism mumbo-jumbo, and we saw a god. But is Coyote evil?”

I asked him if he knew Norse mythology outside of the game, and he nodded. “OK, is Loki really evil? You must understand, the full adventure will include more background, but there are many things in common with most of these old religions. You have a main god, like Thor or Wolf. And in most of them, there is a brother, who is the Trickster God. Loki, or Coyote. They often seem to fight each other, but it’s more tricks than actually being evil. Good and Evil is largely a human concept. Most see the various Death Gods as evil, but they do a job that has to be done. Even if we do not like it. And there has to be a god of the Underworld. Not because they are evil, as much as it is a job that must be done.”

He nodded and said he thought he got it now. Another had been looking through the book and said he did not see Wolf in there. “Yeah, TSR blew it in that one. Remember, this book is watered down, and a generic compilation of ‘Indian Light’ mythology. Myself, I am Pottawatomie, but grew up literally a stone throw away from a Shoshone reservation. But interestingly, almost all tribes from California to Connecticut share the same beliefs, even if they use different names. Almost every single tribe has Coyote, Wolf, Earth, Thunder, and the rest. I could have called him Itsappa, but that is the name the Shoshone used. Which would upset any who are say Creek, Apache, or Mohawk who believes in them by a different name.”

The critique sheets were all filled out, and after they all left it was just Kimmie, Brad, and I in the room. “Pete, you need to rush me next week a better explanation like that one, I liked it. Just flesh it out, and explain how and why you did this in this way. One of my editors had the same question, and I was already going to bring that up with you. But you explained it perfectly, it is intended to simplify the general beliefs of all tribes, not attach itself to any single tribe. We will make sure to include that in the preface, and also I will have single page printouts that we can give or send to any that might object. And hand them out to everybody as they come in the theater, so they will understand the context of the setting.”

“I guess I should have thought of that Brad, great idea. And it’s funny, I’m sure that most up there will get a kick out of it unless they are the stick-up-the-ass types. Much of this is actually lifted from Shoshone myths I heard as a child. In those, Coyote, or Itsappa, is generally seen as more of a trickster god, a prankster who feels it is his duty to bring evil. Nor for the sake of being evil, but because it is needed as a balance. He is also one of the creator gods that helped create the world. And is the one like Prometheus who stole fire from the other gods and gave it to man. He is more of a balance, doing evil so that good is not overpowering. He helps man with things like fire and pottery, but also hinders man. Kind of like a handicap in bowling or golf you might say. He is only evil in comparison, because most of the gods are very good.”

We soon parted, and I walked the floor with Kimmie, holding hands and explaining the various games going on. We watched a group playing Oubliette, and she smiled and said she remembered playing that with me years ago. Then looked when I said I was one of the creators. “I still make some money from that, they are in their forth printing I think now, and the second revision.”

“How much does all this still bring you every year?”

I chuckled and told her I had no idea. “Dee handles all my money, but probably still about as much as I made in the Marines. Which I also still make, because of my disability I retired with a pension. I am just lucky that I’m still completely functional, but as you know a broken neck could still cause problems in the future.” She nodded and squeezed my hand.

The fax arrived from Sue giving me the new node assignment, and I had the front desk make me three more copies, one I would hand to whoever was assigned to run the node down here. We then got in my truck and I decided to pay a visit to some old friends. We drove up to Balboa Naval Hospital and soon ran into one of my old doctors. He of course spent several minutes examining my neck, and Kimmie asked him who had done the fusion. They then lapsed into medical talk for about 10 minutes, and he brought us into his office. And after asking me he let her look through my medical file.

“Holy hell Pete, you are lucky you were not paralyzed. This is one of the worst breaks I have seen that did not result in that. Much more force and you might actually have been killed.”

“Well, yeah. But they told me that the biggest danger was actually the concussion, not the fracture. That is what kept me in a coma for so long.” He put the files back and asked if I could go to the ward with him and talk to a guy with a similar injury. I smiled as he was actually in my old bed, and it felt strange seeing somebody else in a halo. He had been injured when a bank gave away at Pendleton, and his HMMWV rolled over multiple times down the hillside. He was nervous bout the fusion they wanted to do to him, and I did what I could to tell him it would be a good thing. I had him feel the fused vertebrae in my neck and showed how I had almost full motion. “Trust me, it’s worth it. I barely notice it anymore, and I am even skiing again. I still get headaches and the occasional soreness, but that’s nothing.”

Kimmie told him the same thing, saying she was a doctor out of Fresno. “Trust me, it will help your life a lot. The bones are already damaged, and a second blow could be fatal as there are already cracks and chips. They will clean them out, and start them fusing. It costs you a little mobility, but as you see it’s fractional. And your neck there will be stronger, so a repeat injury will not result in a complete break.”

He thanked us, and I told the doctor that he was also welcome to look through my file, to verify everything I had said. He walked us to the Physical Torture area, and I introduced Kimmie to the “Head Torturer” as I called Petty Officer Jones, and they both laughed. “Oh, don’t take Pete here too seriously. He really was serious about his therapy, and would work himself into a sweat each time.”

Kimmie said she had known me for years, and that was just how I was. She then asked what kind of therapy they had me do, and was surprised at some of the equipment she saw. “Is this typical for a Naval Hospital?”

“Well, yes. Remember, we are government-owned and run, so money does not matter much. Doc says somebody needs X-Rays or an MRI, we just send them to get one. We say we need a new machine to help rehabilitate somebody, we get the machine and training on how to use it. Money does not matter, we just want to get them healed.” I watched the two gals as Jones showed Kimmie some devices that were new to her, and described when they were used.

“I must say, you have the best PT ward I have seen. It’s rather impressive, to tell the truth. I had thought the military would be cheap, I hear from some vets that you just throw them Motrin and send them away.”

“Well, that is at the unit level. Now I’m just a Corpsman, on a ship I would be little more than a glorified LVN, with some powers of an RN. If I was trained I could do some stuff a PA could do, even suture minor wounds and the like. At that level, that is all I could do really. But here at the Hospital, I can do a lot more. My first two years were Greenside at El Toro, working there with Marines like Pete. But when I came here I got put in the Therapy wing, and this is where I will likely stay the rest of my career.”

I agreed, saying she was the best therapist I had ever worked with. “And yes, they are good here. Much better than the VA, I go there twice a month still, there it is more rubber bands and isometric exercises. Not the machines like they use here.”

Jones then went over what therapy I was doing and shook her head. She grabbed several printouts and told me to get a gym membership. “Here, do these at least twice a week, you can do it on their equipment. And if anybody tells you that you are using the machines wrong, tell them it is for therapy, not exercise.” And it was, different. Things like putting 5 pounds on the leg curl bench, then using my neck to extend it instead of my legs. I told her I would do that, and when Kimmie asked she gave her one as well.

After that, we headed over to MCRD, and I had her put her hand on my arm as we walked around my old home, and told her what the training was like. She watched the things the recruits were having to do and laughed when I said it had been the same for me when I was here. I then walked over to a street by the Theater and handed her my camera. She then took a picture as I stood on the Yellow Footprints, in as close as I could remember to the same set I had stood on so many years ago. A DI was walking by and smiled, then came over and asked if we wanted him to take one of us together.

Kimmie stood next to me with my arm around her shoulders and hers around my waist and he took it, then asked my platoon. I gave him the number and year, and who my Drill Instructors were. All of my DIs were long gone, but he said that there was a Master Gunnery Sergeant Sanabria with the DI School. I thanked him and walked on down the road until we got to the building. I went in, and sure enough, he was the number three guy on the board inside. I asked at the desk if he was in, and as I expected he was off for the weekend.

I got a piece of paper and wrote him a short note. I told him I was out now, and that he was welcome to call me, write, or come by if he was ever up in LA. I stapled one of my business cards to the paper and the guy at the desk smiled and said he would make sure he got it.

“Wow, they are a lot nicer than I thought they would be. I thought Drill Instructors were all supposed to be assholes.”

“Oh no, that is just a role they do in training. In fact, they each generally take a different role and change it around each cycle. Gunny Sanabria was actually my Senior, he is kind of the stern father. And I was told most times before that he was the ‘asshole’ DI. There is always one that is kind, and one we are to go to when we have problems, the approachable one that is more like a stern big brother. They trade off each cycle, so they do not let those roles become part of their permanent behavior. When I got attacked in Okinawa, he was actually there. Helped pull the guys off of me, and waited around until I was released from the clinic to make sure I was alright.”

“You told me about that last night, whatever happened to them?”

“Well, Nash was the worst. Hmm, he is probably still sitting his ass in a jail cell in Japan. Eating rice, fish heads, and MREs as he serves his sentence. I think he got six years, Japan is not big on parole. Then he will be sent back here, get a court martial, then kicked out with a Dishonorable Discharge.”

“Wait, isn’t that double jeopardy?”

“Nope, not at all Kimmie. In fact, I may even get called in to testify for that. In Japan, they convicted him only for the assault. Now for the Marines, he violated a great many other orders. And because he is in jail, technically he has been UA for the last three years. That means ‘Unauthorized Absence’, what the Army calls AWOL. They can kick him out for that alone. But the Marines will likely charge him with conspiracy as we were attacked in an ambush by three of them, as well as a racially motivated attack. They were only charged in Japan for the assault itself, these are different charges.”