Chapter 1

March 1987

Jimmy’s arm healed up so fast I couldn’t tell it was ever broken. Of course, I tended to it in my own special way, but the way that infants’ bones grew made everything so easy.

I was so busy with Alex and Jimmy teaching them things in the first two years of their lives that Bear and Rock had to stage an intervention.

“Alexis White Owl,” Rock started, “you have to give them time to do nothing.”

“Yeah, mom,” Alex said in her little, little girl’s voice. “I jes’wanna’pay’wif’Woktas.Hoag’dida’wets’me’wide’him.” She tended to run all the words together, and couldn’t pronounce the ‘l’ sound at all. That last sentence actually was ‘I just want to play with the Wokitas. Hoagande lets me ride him.’

“What about you, little boy?” I asked Jimmy.

“I was fwowing wocks at Snowbird. I hit her, too, but she din’t care.”

“Did she move at all?” asked Bear.

“No.She’puffd’up’so’she’wooked’bigger,” said Alex.

“She just looked at me. And then bwinked at me,” said the little rock thrower.

“You shouldn’t throw rocks at anybody, Jimbo,” said Rock.

“She’s jes a wowl,” Jim protested. “Not a person.”

“Owls are people too, Jimmy,” said Rock.

“No, Daddy. Ows’are’ows. Not’peeps. They’s’aminows.”

“Alex, do you talk to Hoagande?” I asked her.

“Sure. But’no’tawkin’.”

“So, how’s that different from when you talk to me, or your daddies, without talking? Or the people who can’t talk with their minds? Animals are just different kinds of beings,” I said.

That gave them something to think about and they quieted down.

I decided to do more watching and less instructing. I’d wait until they approached me. Turns out they approached their Dads more than they approached me. I contained my envy well, I thought.

July 1991

The walls of the great storage battery vault were up in a couple of months in 1987. It was a squat building with a low roof and nothing inside, except some exhaust fans. It was seven feet tall, just enough for the guys and gals who worked there to move around without having to stoop.

We got enough of the world’s most efficient, and large, batteries to power the EM fields for a full day. So the EM fields would be powered first by the fusion reactions, and then the Arizona Power grid, second, and then by the batteries. It was sorta like the farmer who’d wear a belt to hold up his pants, and then have a pair of suspenders, and then rivet his pants to his hips. You know ... just in case.

The big building went up next. It took most of 1988, 1989, and 1990 to build. It was huge. We had to build great pieces of wall on the ground and then jack them up into place. In the final version, we – Chas actually – decided to make it big enough for four large fusion bottles, and then we’d have enough room next to it for another big building that could hold another four. That should give us enough generating power to light up everything that wasn’t plugged in to a hydroelectric or geothermal plant. When everything was fully up and connected, there wouldn’t be a coal-fired or natural gas-powered plant this side of the Mississippi.

FINALLY, the twins were going into second grade. They were only five years old, but they could read fluently in English, Spanish, Navajo, Hopi, and Shoshone. Talking in all those languages – not so much. They were best in English and Navajo. They were working on Japanese, but we didn’t really know anybody who could speak with them in Japanese, so that was slowing them down. But they wanted to learn the language, so we got tapes for them.

I was in the Big Wind Reservation, visiting people in the Piaqogwaiq. Bear was with me, and Rock was down in the Naabeehó Bináhásdzo with the kids. They were exploring a summer excursion into the caves northeast of Burnside North with Rock and Wild Mustang, whom they called análi. They conversed with the old man in a veritable babble of non-stop Navajo.

It was about 0300 hours one morning when I was awakened by Jimmy. For some reason, he was better at calling me than Alex was.

’Mommy, bad men are coming.’

I was awake immediately. ’Where are you? Are you safe?’

’We are in the caves with análi and RockDad. We were playing with the bats. But Alex woke up scared. I didn’t feel them, but she said there were bad men. I woke up RockDad and he said to call you.’

’You did the right thing, Jimmy. Don’t worry. I’ll get some help,’ I sent.

The kids treated mental communications like a ‘call’ on the phone. It was second nature to them.

I tapped into Rock. ’Jimmy called me. Tell them not to worry. I’m contacting Washburn.’

I reached for my phone and called Linc and Washburn. “Something’s wrong with the kids. I got a feeling there’s bad men coming. They’re in the caves near Burnside North, with Rock and Wild Mustang.” Nobody outside our family knew about the mental ‘calls’ that we used.

When they blew the dust out of their sleepy minds, Washburn said, “I know about the trip. Nobody, including me, knows where they are. They’re up in the caves with Rock and Mustang. I can’t believe there’s any risk to them. But I’ll get the troops out looking for them.”

Linc said, “I can’t do much more than Sam can do, but I’ll head to the Security Station and the town entrance. From there ... What the hell was that? There was an explosion and a crash. Didn’t sound like it came from the caves. Wasn’t real close. More like artillery in the distance.”

’Rock? Everything okay?’

Rock sounded normal. ’Fine. We got a little earthquake, I think. The bats didn’t even flap a wing, so there’s no danger. Wild Mustang didn’t wake up.’

Linc broke off for a minute and came back on. “Looks like something happened at Navajo Electric. No details yet. I’m going out there.” Navajo Electric was the name we’d given to the construction site that would eventually be the generating plant.

Washburn said, “I’ll stay on the search for the cave and the kids. Let me know what happened, Linc.”

“Rog, Sam. Code 6.”

It was still amazing to me how they could switch to their military lingo at the drop of – well, I didn’t know what dropped, but they used Code 6, which to them meant ‘I’ll let you know what I find out when I get to where I’m going’ – sorta.