FOUNDLING: ONE OF THOSE KIND OF DAYS

BY CHRISTOPHER TOILKIEN

[ part 26 ]

Foundling ran like the wind, dragging, shoving, and finally carrying little Melissa far away from another group of kidnappers as she possibly could. They say in times of danger, people are capable of extreme bursts of energy. It was getting dark when she dropped exhausted into a small area of dry brush. Dragging the sobbing Melissa behind her. As the night enfolded the two terrified little waifs, Foundling held Melissa close.

The smell of coffee and cooking food woke Foundling.

She peeked out of the bush and saw people standing around a campfire. Wooden wheeled wagons, pulled by underfed horses. Foundling was hungry, the school cafeteria was supposed to be holding dinner for them. That was hours ago.

She crawled out of the bush and timidly moved towards the group of men and women standing around the campfire, ready at an instant to bolt.

A swarthy bearded man, turned, offered a dented tin cup and gestured for her to come closer. And when she refused to budge, put the steaming cup down moving away. Foundling edged up, keeping her eyes on the people, reached down and picking the cup up by its handle, walked backward away.

"Blondie", A raven hared old man in patched work clothes called in poorly accented French, holding out a chunk of bread. Take this as well to your sister" And threw it towards Foundling.

Foundling deftly caught the coarse bread, not spilling a drop of the thick soup in the cup.

"Thank you", she said also in deliberately poorly accented French.

Foundling crawled back under the bush, gently shaking Melissa awake and sharing the food with her.

Sounds of people packing up and horses neighing brought Foundlings head back out of the bush. The movement of the people had caused dust to rise, glistening in the rising sun. It was going to be another hot day in Southern Spain. The only shade and water around was with these people. Foundling reluctantly urged Melissa out of the bush and half carried her towards the row of brightly painted living wagons.

A young girl, dressed in a long black skirt and white blouse, reached up and opened a wooden door in the back of one vehicle. Foundling shoved Melissa in, scrambling in herself afterwards. The door pushed shut by the bright-eyed girl.

Inside was like a wooden house trailer. The upper area filled with cupboards and the lower on one side a built in two-seater table and the other a fold down bed.

Foundling lifted Melissa up on the bed, slumping down, back up against the solid front of the vehicle. Swiftly falling into a drugged sleep.

It was hot when the movement of the wagon caused Melissa to roll off the bed on top of Foundling.

OOOF! You are getting fat. Foundling joked, hopping to lift the deeply depressed Melissa.

Just then the wagon stopped and a battered cardboard box, holding a half loaf of bread, a new 2 liter bottle of water and a hunk of sausage and piece of cheese was thrust into the vehicle, and the door closed.

The two little girls shared the food and drifted off to sleep in the secure warmth of the rolling wagon.

It was dark when someone shook Foundling awake.

It was the black hared girl from the morning. Foundling shook Melissa awake and the two little girls stumbled out of the wagon.

Groups of people were gathered around cooking fires and the girl indicated the two that they were to follow.

Melissa whispered to Foundling and she in turn indicated they had to pee. The girl pointed to the dry bushes near at hand and the two stumbled off into the scratchy bushes and carried out their toilet.

The girl was waiting for the two lost soles and escorted them to a circle of older men sitting in canvas chairs around a cooking fire.

One man dressed much better than the rest spoke to the first man, who had offered Foundling the food that morning.

"Cervantes wishes to inquire how you ended up in that bush" he inquired in his broken French.

"We were running away from bad men" Foundling replied in purposely bad French.

The two chatted again, to low for her to over hear.

He wishes to know how you will pay for your food and transportation. We are poor Gypsy itinerants. Having little extra" He told them.

"I can play and she can dance" Foundling told them, reaching down and picking up a mandolin lying beside one man. She gently strummed it, to feel it's setup and then began to play.

The men sat amazed at the skill of this little girl, and some out of sight clapped in rhythm.

"The old man smiled, and then so did the rest of the old men sitting near. He whispered to the other and another mans gripped Melissa's hand dragging her away.

Foundling immediately stopped playing; reaching out for the sad face of her friend, but the first man blocked her way.

"If your friend wishes to stay, she will have to earn her way, many females in our troop already dance" He said in his bad French.

Foundling was eventually allowed to trail along, A strong hands fingers digging into her arm. And gasped as she approached were Melissa stood.

A circle of adults stood in the center of a ring of wagons. A stripped naked Melissa stood just inside a rough circle drawn in the dust. Another equally naked little girl, about her age was dragged out and with a swat to her rear ordered to stay. Both had nooses of leather around their necks, held by an adult male.

Thin little, short blond hared Melissa stood facing an equally thin black hared girl across the rough circle five feet away.

"Tell your friend we will only keep one. The girl that first has any part of her body outside the circle will be sold off. No holds barred " He told Foundling.

Foundling walked over to the terrified Melissa and whispered.

"If you want to stay with me, get some part of her outside of the circle. The looser will be sold off. No holds barred" Foundling smiled weakly and a man gripping her arm pulled her back. The restraining nooses were slipped off the little girl's necks and their handlers stepped back.

A red kerchief was dropped in the ring and like an uncoiling snake, the black hared girl struck.

Melissa ducked low and the girl almost ran past, arms outstretched, but dropped and rolled, knocking the feet out from under Melissa. The two little girls rolled in the dirt, Melissa trying to pry the girl's long fingers from her throat. Melissa rolled over, feeling herself starting to fade her attacker on top. She thrust a knee upwards, catching the girl on top in the crotch and over her head. But the dark hared one was as spry as a cat and avoided stepping out of the ring drawn in the red dirt. On their knees, the two faced each other for an instant and then both hurled toward the other. Heads banged and they grappled, fingers scratching skin and pulling hair.

The dark hared one got one arm under Melissa's ass through her legs and was trying to roll her out of the circle, and instead sliding her on her shoulders towards it. Melissa glanced up, at the terrified face of her lover, both hands clasped across her sweet lips. She could tell by it, Melissa's head was almost outside.

She stopped trying to dig her fingers into the hard soil as a break and reaching up, grabbed her opponents head shoving it over hers into the hard ground.

"Finito" Someone cried. And adult males pulled the two scrappers apart.

Swiftly, their hands were bound behind their backs and leather nooses slipped over their heads. A downcast dark hared one led away to an unknown fate. A triumphant blond hared one led towards the seated leader, and shoved down at his feet.

"You will be kept, but only as long as you continue to win" The man told her in broken English.

She was then led away and thrust again into that wooden wagon. Her hair was sore, her knees were sore. But forgot all her aches and pains when Foundling was soon thrust in after. Having their hands bound behind their naked bodies, was a bit of a nuisance. But two smart young girls, intent on a little mutual pleasuring, usually find away. Later, they worried about their future and more immediately if they wold get fed tonight.

The Phoenix had dropped them in the bowl between two wooded hills and was gone. Alice had held her right thumb out to Mavis as they waited for it to arrive. She touched Mavis's right thumb and said.

"It will come when you call. From now on you are the only one until this mission is over it will obey. Oh, and bye the way, Two hours travelling time from California is it's slowest speed"

"What about the crew" Mavis inquired.

"It is a sentient bio-mechanical construct as I am" Alice had said.

No mater what she had said or how she had framed it, the rest of her team had put on the right handed devices. Alice's actions had shown, its greater potentials were still her secret.

They were jogging through the dawn. An ever-lengthening line of females hauling weapons food and communications gear. Actually Mary's task was a lot lighter than it used to be. Alice had smiled at the state of the art units Mavis had brought out of the armory, proffering ear buds.

"Range" Mavis inquired.

"You can literally call home from anywhere if you remember the number, and recite it in your mind, or a team member if you just think her name. Preset the units for the current strike, to each other, simply by holding hands" Alice had said.

"This is way beyond our current technology" Said Mary, a communications specialist.

"And that flying saucer isn't " Ever practical Gloria chirped in.

Mavis, way out in the lead, slackened her pace. They just could not keep the old pace up. Maybe Caroline had no problem, but the line was getting longer.

The kidnap point was just below, and the myriad of lights around the abandoned hacienda indicated the Spanish Federalays were there in force.

"Recon" Mavis said and Caroline started to shed her extra gear, and slunk away.

"Dam, but I meant me" Thought Mavis, but it had always been Caroline's's job before.

The others automatically assumed a defensive ring, some breathing in rasps and all sweating. The cameo altered right before Mavis's eyes and her team literally dissolved into the landscape. It did not appear to mater that they had body armor and equipment pouches or belts over it.

A few minutes later Caroline's voice came to their ears, as sharp as if she was whispering right into it.

"About a hundred security police are crisscrossing the area about a half kilometer out. A dozen more are hanging idly around. If the terrorists came back, they could just walk up and bag that lot. Some insolent buffoon called commander Miguel is pretending he is in charge. But a big shot from the capital, Saverda is running it through a long distance radio hookup.

They have rounded up all but three of the girls and are holding them for interrogation in the abandoned house. They and the teachers and disarmed school guards are being held separately. The kids are whining about no food and little water"

"Transport" Inquired Mavis.

"Four of the schools rented buses are here and the drivers hanging around" Caroline replied.

"It is time for me to put my foot in that shit pile" Mavis told them, stripping off the camo and packing it away in her backpack. Stay here until I call. If it works out, we will be travelling with the kids back to the summer school tonight. Three missing girls are probably just not found as they are hiding out nearby"

Mavis left all but her personal pistol behind and quietly moved down the wooded hillside. She found it relatively easy to enter the old house and stood just outside the door were Miguel sat arguing with someone on the other end.

"The girls are witnesses' to the Basque terrorist attack. The adults never even saw most of them. I want to hold them another day. So what the nun's are crying to get their little girls back"

"But we are really worried about them" Mavis injected, walking into the room.

"Mother of Christ" How did you get all the way in here?" He barked, standing up, and reaching for the pistol on the table in front of him. Mavis's immobile hand across it first shocked him even more.

"My name is Mavis, I have been sent to take our people home" She told him, as he still attempted to lift the pistol with two hands as she calmly held it down with one.

Behind him, the open mike barked. "If their agent Mavis shows up, I suggest you let her take their people, the Premier's wife just called. I at least want to hold on to my job"

Mavis lifted her hand from the pistol; he grabbed it up, pointing it at her. She smiled and held up the ammunition clip.

Mavis slammed down a passport-sized portfolio. "I am the accredited representative of the school. I suggest you get our people out, an aboard our busses as fast as you can"

Reluctantly, he picked up an ancient walkie-talkie and called a sergeant. Frustrated at not getting an answer, he flung it against a nearby wall. He shrugged and sat down.

Mavis calmly walked out of the makeshift office moments later. She would have to learn to curb her temper someday. And stop ramming hand grenades with their pins pulled into people's mouths. Maybe someday, but it was her "Mavis was here" signature.

Caroline moved out from where the camo had concealed her along the corridor. "They are all loaded along with the adult staff. We are in the lead and trailing buses" She calmly told Mavis.

As the buses started to roll off, the disarmed paramilitary police looking forlornly at the pile of disabled weapons at their feet, decided, for the sake of their masculine Latino pride. The story would be, they just let some inept females take them. The bent machine pistol barrels would be simply ignored.

Mavis saw to the seating of the group. Teachers and a rearmed guard were with each bus of still traumatized girls. The coolers full of food and drink sent down by the school late yesterday were set in the middle isle of each bus full of students. Trauma recovery staffers would be waiting for them at the school.

It was after the hustle and bustle of getting the convoy rolling was over that Caroline discovered Mavis was gone.

Mavis had circled the abandoned building, cursing the herds of boots that had obscured any little girl's footprints for a hundred yards. But it soon became clear most of them had fled double that and gone to ground in the brush off the tree line. They had regrouped in small packets of frightened little girls until someone or something decided it was clear to return. Then they drifted into their class's groups and back to the building. They’re to be found, first by the schools staff and then re-imprisoned by the Spanish Paramilitary Police.

But two sets of tracks ran much further. For those two little girls were fleeing in real terror from they're third kidnapping attempt by the Red Brigade terrorists. One had soon began to stumble and then the others footprints were much heavier, showing when Foundling had literally picked up her little friend and ran with her. Mavis wondered if Foundling had realized she ran two kilometers with Melissa's additional weight in her arms?"

Mavis stopped and checked her global positioner. Foundling not only had run, but ran in a zig zag pattern, keeping to hard ground, but always in the direction of the summer school. Traces of her passing were far and few, she had to search carefully.

Greatly increased strength, speed and natural geographic positioning. Foundling was both in name and fact a real Foundling, a Mavis herself was.

A sound froze Mavis in her tracks. Three sets of military boots were just a few feet off. Into her sight came two men searching the ground, a third, slightly to their rear, covering their advance. Fifty meters to their left and right, identical groups and beyond them more groups. Advancing towards Mavis was a very professional security sweep. No local buffoons with dirty guns. A three rank deep checkerboard pattern sweep by very highly trained first class anti terrorist troops.

The cleft Mavis crouched in would have to do.

"Those two Germans are hard. They ask the impossible" One man said. "But are here with us, not sitting in some air conditioned hotel" The other replied.

"Gunter and Karl, even their names sound hard" The first one replied.

"Mavis almost gave herself away with a chortle. She would have to seek out these two, and find if they remembered her.

Eventually the sweep past her buy, but it was quickly becoming dusk by then. Perching herself just behind the slope of a rise, she swept the area searching for a camp. There it was, nestled in a shallow bowl. The tiny red dots of sentry dogs, the larger of their handlers as the outer perimeter constantly flexed. No fixed patterns or rigid perimeter to penetrate. It was excellent, but relied on the dogs picking up the scent of an intruder. Foundlings literally had no scent.

Gunter and Karl were sitting face to face in their camouflaged tent. A soft footfall and their tent flap swept up and Mavis walked in.

"I read you retired two years ago" Mavis opened with.

"And you, four" The taller of the two replied.

"We are all obviously enjoying it" Mavis countered.

One swept a camp chair up to the table and Mavis sat down. Gunter rubbed his hip.

"Still a bit tender?" Mavis inquired.

" Only if I push it" He replied.

"And your head"

"I comb my hair to hid the scar" Karl replied.

"We are rarely surprised, you were handcuffed after all" Karl stated.

"And that is why you only limp and you comb your hair, I was a little off balance without my arms" Mavis replied.

"Have your searchers find anything?" Mavis inquired.

"So far every set of tracks have been explained. One set of small shoe sized, but adult weight, running fast in a zigzag track. But we lost them when it crossed the old highway." Gunter replied. Many locals use it with their horse drawn carts. Gypsies, drovers and herders, and other indigent traders. The Spanish government maintains the bridges, and it still eventually runs between all the towns were traditionally they did business.

"We have a favor to ask". Gunter injected, offering a small glass of clear liquid.

"Given" Mavis replied, downing the fiery brew.

Karl, handing Mavis a large manila envelope, said;

"There is a fat German industrialist we are sure has been funding the Red Brigades. But his high priced lawyers have managed to limit his punishment to house arrest for now. The day to day police suspect him of having his own brother and his wife killed by them. Their little daughter has been sent to a private school after two attempts by the Red Brigade to kidnap her.

"You knew a Red Brigade terrorist attack would bring me out," Mavis said turning to Gunter, or why would you even be carrying these documents"

They both had very satisfied smiles on their faces.

"Those contain detailed maps of his Berlin House, security systems and even deep scans of the entire area from our satellites. Gunter told her, indicating the envelope. You will see a long abandoned drain leads to a deep well in the old sub basement. That will give you access to the basement of the house"

"O-Yes there is a full set of ID identifying you as a member of our German Military anti-terrorist group"

"Why?" Mavis inquired with a sly smile.

"We get to say we were a long way away in Spain chasing Basque terrorists pretending to be Red Brigades or Vice Versa, if anything should happen to him" The said together.

"If you are at all interested, his name is Rhinegold. The little niece, should you ever come across her is Melissa"

A very feminine laugh startled both "Hard Men". It had a very cruel tone.

She kissed each on the forehead and was gone.