Rest Stop (Short story) (AA, Mature) 8/7/07 (WIP)

[greywolf]

Rest Stop (a short story in three postings)

Author: Greywolf
Banner by FrenchDreamer
Couple: None really. It's mostly about Isabel, Max, and their mother.
Rating: Mature due to sexual subject matter, violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell or any of the characters. Please don't sue me.
Summary: Hey....it's a SHORT story. Read the damn thing or not...it's up to you.
Started 7/20/2007

8:00 AM Superior Court, Albuquerque New Mexico

“All rise, Superior Court of the State Of New Mexico is in session….the Honorable Judge Helen Arthur”

“Please be seated, everyone.

I see the first business of the day is an adoption petition…requesting that two foundling children….Maxwell and Isabel Doe be approved for adoption by Philip and Diane Evans….I take it you are the attorney representing the Evans’?”

She had been in dozens of courts…on hundreds of occasions…but she’d never been quite as nervous as she was today.

“Your honor, I am an attorney…but I’m also one of the petitioners…Diane Evans. I’m terribly sorry but Philip…my husband…is lead defense attorney in a trial in Las Cruces. The case has been pending for two years…and the judge wouldn’t let him change it.”

The judge looked down at the woman, who appeared to be in her early thirties, and smiled. “Well, that’s OK Diane…we often get cases here where the petitioners don’t show up at all…just their attorney. I see that you have already fostered these children for a year.”

“Yes your honor…As I’m sure your aware… foundling children can’t legally be adopted for a year..to give the police agencies time for due diligence to attempt to determine the biological parents. In the interim, my husband and I have been fostering them…I’ve cut back my law practice to permit me to be a full time mother to them.”

“An unusual case…to say the least…” said the judge…reading through the file. “You and your husband found them wandering naked down a desert road…?”

“Yes, your honor..”

“Is the Children, Youth and Families Department representative from Social Services present?”

“That would be me, your honor,” said the man at the other table.

“Does the Department have any objections to this petition?”

“Absolutely none, your honor. Every reasonable and prudent effort has been made to identify the biological parents of these children…with no success whatsoever. But even HAD we found the biological parents…Judge, the children as you can see are about seven years old. When they were found they had no language skills of any kind…they were in fact not even potty-trained. Although not abused physically…well they were about as serious a case of parental neglect in terms of normal childhood development as the department has recently seen. Even were we to locate the biological parents…well, it’s difficult to believe we would be returning them to their care.

In fact, what Mrs. Evans and her husband have done with the children in only the past year…well, our child psychologists tell us it’s little short of a miracle. Mrs. Evans and her husband have completed the required background checks….had the required counseling...…they are both in good health….economically capable of taking care of the children…and they are really pillars of their community in Roswell. Although we do not actually know the biological parents of the children, it would not appear that this case would fall under the provisions of the The Indian Child Welfare Act of 1978 and no tribe in the state has reported children of this age missing. All that being the case…the department strongly indorses this petition.”

Judge Arthur looked at the two children sitting in the chairs behind the petitioner. There wasn’t much of a family resemblance…the dark-haired amber eyed boy and the blonde haired blue eyed girl. Informality was a hallmark of the juvenile court. She stepped down from the bench and went to talk to the children.

“So your names are Max and Isabel?” she asked. The boy looked tentative…afraid. He sort of crowded behind his sister.

“Uh-huh..” the girl finally said, appearing to crowd behind Diane Evans a little bit herself.

“I’m afraid they still aren’t used to strangers, your honor and Max’s language skills are coming along a little slower than Isabel’s. We try to take them out…but they are both real shy. We’ve been working on that with the counselors from the department.”

“That’s quite true, your honor..” said the CYFD lawyer. “Because of their prior condition the children find it real difficult to bond with anyone…but again, Mr. and Mrs. Evans have made surprising progress in just a year…at least with Isabel.”

Diane nodded her head. Little Max clearly was a much harder nut to crack…although sometimes it really seemed like he understood much more than he spoke…just was too shy to speak. But if Diane couldn’t communicate with him…if she could get the concept across to Isabel…Isabel could usually get through to him. It was almost like the brother and sister had some sort of sixth sense between the two of them.

“Isabel…that’s a pretty name,” the judge said. “Mr. and Mrs. Evans want to be your mommy and daddy…not for you to just stay at their house…but to be part of their family…forever. Would you like that?”

Isabel felt her brother huddled behind her trying to put distance between himself and the strange lady in the black robe. She was frightened too, but she understood. If she said yes, they would stay with Mommy and Daddy forever…never go back to the orphanage.

*It won’t work, Izzy*…the thought came to her through the connection.

*I want a real home, Max*

*They’ll find out….they won’t love us when they do*

*Yes they will …. I won’t go back there Max…not to that place they kept us…the Home*

*We can go back to the cave….*

*It’s just an empty cave, Max…with dusty machines*

It really couldn’t be a home…not ever…but she couldn’t convince Max of that.

*I want to stay with Mommy and Daddy, Max*

*They won’t love you when they find out*

*I don’t care…I love them*

“I’d like that….,” Isabel said.

Judge Arthur smiled. She dealt with all manner of juvenile and domestic court problems…as well as oftentimes bitter custody disputes. This was one of the easiest and most satisfying court cases that would come along all month.

Diane Evans looked visibly relieved when the judge smiled at her. “Well Mrs. Evans…it appears that you have two delightful children.

As Diane and the court clerk assisted the judge with the paperwork, the two children sat quietly watching. Isabel knew that Max didn’t love Mommy. Except for Isabel herself, Max didn’t love anyone. Max was afraid to love…afraid that if he loved anyone…and they found out he was different..they’d stop loving him…and he couldn’t face that possibility. But Isabel could tell…he almost loved Mommy. Maybe in time he would learn how to trust…how to love. In the meantime…at least Isabel had her home…”

Diane met with the CYFD representative outside the courtroom…and shook his hand. “Thank you Mr. Sanchez…for all your help in making this happen.”

“Believe me Mrs. Evans…you’ve done us a real favor. It’s kind of hard to place children like Isabel and Max. Fortunately, children that socially deprived don’t come in very often,” he said…thinking of a certain Michael Doe that had been in the orphanage for almost a year. “It’s really a pleasure to see Isabel and Max go to someone who cares for them so much.”

“No Mr. Sanchez….trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

11:00 AM Embassy Suites, Albuquerque, Room 114

“OK you two…anyone has to go to the bathroom…this will be your last chance for awhile. Max? Isabel?”

Isabel shook her head…so did Max.

“OK kids, …it’s going to be almost four hours until we get home and I know that’s very boring. You can look at your books, but if you start to get sick to your stomach, tell Mommy and put your books down and just look out the windows, OK? Maybe we can stop for a little while along the way at a park or a school playground or something if it gets too boring…and Mommy has some boxes of juice if you get thirsty. When we get home, Daddy is going to meet us at a restaurant for a little celebration…because today we are a real family…”

Max looked at his new mother doubtfully…and Isabel quickly grabbed his hand.

*Don’t do this Max….she’s so happy…don’t do this to her. You can have all the doubts you want..but today just let her be happy…OK?*

Max looked at his sister. He knew this wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t really love them all that much…and even if she did, once she found out they were….different…it would all be over.

*OK, I guess…*

*Max….promise me….*

*Alright…I promise…but it still will never work..*

An hour later they were going through Encino New Mexico…population less than a hundred. Diane was making good time on the nearly deserted highway…but the drive south into the noonday sun had it’s toll on the three people in the Volvo station wagon…despite its air conditioning. Diane was on her second bottle of water, and between them the two children had gone through the six boxes of juice in the little cooler. Any parent could have told you what was coming next…

Diane saw Isabel fidgeting and shook her head. “Isabel…do you have to go potty?” The blonde head nodded twice. “Well honey, just hold on. Mommy saw a sign for a rest stop just a few miles back…we should be getting to it soon.”

It was about a mile past the Guadalupe County line and it would have been considered a rest stop only in very rural New Mexico…but then, that’s exactly where they were. The road led a couple miles off 285…ending in an empty parking lot big enough for maybe five vehicles, a trash can, a concrete picnic cable overlooking an arroyo, and a porta-potty. Diane looked at the porta-potty somewhat distastefully…hoping it wasn’t too filthy…although it wasn’t as if Isabel appeared to have much of a choice. She parked the car and got them both out…Max probably needed to stretch his legs too and besides, he could use the bathroom after Isabel did. They’d both had the same amount of juice.

“Stay close to Mommy kids, there may be snakes or scorpions out there…and stay way away from the cliff."

The cliff looked down on the bottom of the arroyo where moving water from the rare summer thunderstorms had carved a gash fifty or sixty feet deep in the landscape over the millennia. Although the road dead-ended at the cliff, the rusty guard rail had long since been eroded from underneath and now lay halfway down the side of the cliff. It really didn’t look like this place got much use. But that really didn't matter...they weren't planning on staying long either.

[greywolf]

The three motorcyclists names were Reo, Jake and Raven. Their colors said ‘Mongrels MC, Boulder Colorado,’ and their was a small diamond that said ‘1%,’ ….a reference to an ancient quote from the spokesman for the American Motorcycle Association that 99% of motorcyclists were law abiding citizens. The Mongrels reveled in the fact that they were in the OTHER 1%.

Oh…that wasn’t what the three told their parole officer….in fact, they told him that the Mongrels was a former sexual offender support group….and in a fashion it was, but not the way he was led to believe it was. The fact of the matter is that rape is a terribly common crime and only a fraction of the rapes are even reported by the victim and of these cases reported, far fewer actually go on to conviction. Although between the three of them Reo, Jake, and Raven only had seven rape convictions, they had in fact committed more than four times that many rapes as adults…their half dozen or so sexual offenses as juveniles long since sealed in the interest of giving them a ‘new start’ as adults…

The fact the three were released at all was a tribute to the progressive people of Colorado…and particularly those in Boulder. Despite their proven recidivism, despite sociopathic behavior stretching back into their early teen years, the citizens of Colorado FELT like it ought to be possible to REHABILITATE these people. That no one else has ever been terribly successful at doing this didn’t dissuade them. Through their representatives in the legislature they built into the law the EXPECTATION that rehabilitation was not only possible…but that it would be the norm. While other states would sometimes indefinitely incarcerate such felons, Colorado substituted treatment. Even post discharge follow-up was limited. Somehow the good folk of Colorado had decided that guys like Reo, Jake, and Raven…having ‘paid their debt to society,’ were somehow the moral equivalent of three guys who hadn’t raped thirty or forty women and girls.

Now in fairness…the three men didn’t go down the short road to the rest stop looking for someone to rape….they were in fact on their way to Mexico to buy some cocaine….but they were sociopaths…more than willing to take advantage of an opportunity…and as they saw the woman and the two children….they clearly recognized just such an opportunity.


After looking at the ‘rest stop,’ Diane decided it might just be better for Max to stay in the car…this looked like an excellent place to meet one of the deserts venomous fauna or spiney flora.

“Max, honey. Just stay in the car, alright?”

She saw his reluctance…he was always uncomfortable leaving Isabel….but Diane had a real uncomfortable feeling about this isolated case…and the counselors had told her sometimes you just really needed to be firm.

“Max…mind mommy now….stay in the car.”

He turned his head away and looked out the window into the desert….as close as she was going to get to any indication of assent. It would have to do for now, little Isabel looked like she was getting desperate.

Diane really couldn’t blame Isabel for her reluctance to use the porta-potty…it had apparently been quite awhile since it had been serviced…but there were no other options. Diane checked it over carefully for spiders and scorpions and decided they were going to be using a lot of wipes and ‘hand goo’ when they were done. Hopefully it would just take a minute…then they would be back in the car….back on their way to Roswell.

The truth was…Diane herself was one of those progressive souls who really believed in rehabilitation rather than incarceration. She had actually first come of age philosophically at Brown University….college students, of course, know everything. As a sophomore sitting in Philosophy and Political Science classes her professors had told her a lot. Fifteen years ago she believed she could have it all…a profession…a family, she believed she’d known it all. She believed in the inherent goodness of all people….how there was really no evil in the world…just people who make mistakes….people who needed to be educated. No one, she had told the kids, was past rehabilitation or redemption.

It had taken the fertility specialist explaining to her that the bell shaped curve that seemed to be how nature worked meant that a few otherwise normal women would just plain run out of eggs by their late twenties…. to understand that perhaps the professors at Brown didn’t know quite everything.

It would take Reo, Jake, and Raven to make her understand that the bell shaped curve applies as well to people….that for those few…those one-percenters…, the problem wasn’t education. There just wasn’t any goodness in their souls to tap in to.

[greywolf]

There are a number of types described in the literature:

• The Massachusetts Treatment Center Rapist Typology Version 3 (abbreviated MTC:R3) is perhaps the most empirically validated rapist typology in use today. The Center referred to is at Bridgewater, Massachusetts, one of the nation's most famous prisons for the criminally insane during the 1960s, which over the years became a prison for the sexually dangerous, and is now just called a State Hospital in the Dept. of Corrections. Among the many relevant publications about the MTC:R3, perhaps two of the most readable ones are Knight & Prentky (1987) and Knight et. al. (1998). The typology holds that there are nine (9) types of rapists, as follows, where the more complex notion of "social competence" has been replaced by the more easily understood concept of assertiveness:
  
  Type 1: Opportunistic assertive -- driven by opportunities which arise in the context of some other antisocial act, such as a robbery or burglary, where they just "happen" to run into a victim; impulsive, indifferent, and a callous disregard for others
  
  Type 2: Opportunistic non-assertive -- same as above, but less socially competent; poor social skills, and a longer history of impulsiveness extending into adolescence
  
  Type 3: Pervasively angry -- nonsexualized anger at the whole world, unstable childhood, "macho," quick-tempered, and possibly an antisocial personality or psychopath; inadequate planning for attack
  
  Type 4: Sexual sadistic non-fantasy -- demonstrates both sexual and aggressive elements in assault, enjoys abusing victims, and interprets victim's resistance as a game; usually married; extensive paraphilias
  
  Type 5: Sexual sadistic fantasy -- same as above, but has a well-rehearsed fantasy they enjoy playing out with victim during the assault
  
  Type 6: Sexual non-sadistic non-assertive -- needs to "prove" sexual prowess and adequacy to victim; power reassurance type; lives in a world of fantasy where victim will fall in love with them afterwards; highly sexualized, but lacking in self-control and has multiple cognitive-perceptual distortions of reality
  
  Type 7: Sexual non-sadistic assertive -- same as above, but less cognitive-perceptual distortions of reality, more socially competent; usually selects and stalks victims; often an erotomania who stalks celebrities
  
  Type 8: Vindictive non-assertive -- uses rape to humiliate and degrade women, and selects victims who represent the appearance of assertiveness, independence, or professionalism; often in a relationship or marriage with frequent friction, stress, or irritation; uses profanity a lot during attack; victim resistance escalates violence
  
  Type 9: Vindictive assertive -- same as above, but usually in a relationship or marriage where they are a frequent wife beater, the verbalization of profanity is greater, and the attack usually more sadistic (biting, cutting, or tearing of parts of the body)

For many, especially those in bold type above, it isn't primarily about sex ...it's about power and anger.

And castration, either chemical or otherwise, doesn't decrease their need to humiliate and degrade others. The bottom line is that most simply lack empathy...the worst have a fundamental need to humiliate and degrade others.

http://faculty.ncwc.edu/toconnor/psy/psylect09.htm

Many studies show that near 80% of violent rapists will reoffend after release. http://goliath.ecnext.com/coms2/summary ... 474279_ITM

• Many of the studies dealing with reoffense note the unreliability of convictions and arrest
  records, indicating a need for a self-reporting system for sexual offenders (Hall & Proctor, 1987;
  Weinrott & Saylor, 1991; Groth, Longo, & McFadin, 1982). In these studies, sex offenders admitted
  to committing two to five times as many sex crimes, indicating that arrest records are not the most
  reliable measure of sexual reoffense. With a questionnaire of only five questions, Groth, Longo, and
  McFadin (1982) were able to learn that 67 percent of seventy-six known rapists had committed one
  or more undetected sexual assaults. Fifty percent of convicted child molesters had committed one
  or more undetected involvements with children (p. 456).
  Voluntary data about sex and nonsex crimes was self-reported by ninety-nine sex offenders
  in a study by Weinrott and Saylor (1991). The median number of victims for 37 men arrested for
  rape rose from 1.8 to 6.0 victims when the men self-reported (p. 291). Also, the median number
  of nonsex crimes reported by known rapists in the year prior to their commitment was 305 per man,
  almost one crime a day.
  The nonsex offenses among this sample were strikingly high. Weinrott and Saylor (1991)
  argued that many of the nonsex crimes occurred in conjunction with a sex crime, or an attempt.
  They further found that under the circumstances it was difficult to support the notion that the sexual
  psychopath is primarily, if not exclusively, afflicted with a psychosexual disorder. Further validity
  studies need to address the possibility that men in treatment who are asked to report on past
  indiscretions might be more likely to divulge sensitive information than offenders sentenced to
  prison or probation without specialized treatment. All self-report studies to date have dealt
  exclusively with sex offenders involved in treatment. In addition, they have focused only on
  offenses prior to conviction. Further studies should also examine the degree to which men are
  willing to reveal illegal acts to an independent researcher while on probation or parole.
  Romero and Williams (1985) found that most researchers agree that long-term follow-up is
  crucial in sex offender research, given the low rate at which the offenses of sex offenders are
  detected and prosecuted and the tendency of sex offenders to have crime-free periods. Short-term
  follow-up of sex offenders for 3 to 5 years is likely to miss the bulk of the recidivists and therefore
  may underestimate the extent of the recidivism. Research also needs to separate the different types
  of sexual offenders.

http://justice.uaa.alaska.edu/research/ ... review.pdf

[greywolf]

It wasn’t any real plan. It wasn’t even like the three motorcyclists had expected anyone to be in the rest stop. But as they saw the late model Volvo station wagon there….as they saw the woman in her early thirties and the young girl emerge from the porta-potty….it was almost like instinct for the three to maneuver their hogs between the woman and the car…forcing her to run their gauntlet to get to the young boy….to her car…to any chance of escape. No, it wasn’t a plan at all….they just recognized the opportunity the situation presented.

Reo’s reaction to the woman was instantaneous. Well dressed in an expensive pantsuit…driving an expensive car….she was obviously some kind of professional. Doctor…lawyer….teacher…judge…social worker…it didn’t really matter….he hated them all…knew they thought they were better than him….Hell, knew they WERE better than him probably. But he could show her….given the opportunity…show her she was nothing…. He could do things to her and make her do things that would demonstrate to her just how much of a nothing she was…things that right now she could never believe would happen to her. Things that when he finally walked away from her would leave her with no doubt that she was nothing. And as Reo looked around at the deserted rest stop…saw the look of fear come to the eyes of the woman…he knew he had the opportunity.

Jake’s reaction was a little different then that of Reo…but the difference would mean little to Diane Evans. Jake just liked to see people he regarded as weak suffer…it had always been that way. As a kid he’d trapped squirrels….trapped them alive, so he could torture them. It wasn’t really that he got some sort of erotic pleasure out of squirrels…he just liked to see them suffer. But he had learned….learned through repeated practice, that their were more intense kinds of suffering…more exquisite tortures you could do to men and women than you could ever do to animals. Weak men you could abuse physically…punish them as well as humiliate them. But women…and girls…nothing caused them more pain than to use them savagely…to degrade them…to laugh as you stole what they valued. As he saw the woman and the small girl…already his heart beat faster…he felt more alive.

Raven knew what was coming…and it excited him. The world hated him…and he hated it right back. He hated the fact that he had never fit in…hated the fact that he didn’t have what other people had…hated this rich woman with her expensive car…hated pretty much everyone. Only in the Mongols was he accepted….only amongst his fellow outlaws was there some niche where he felt comfortable. Yes…Raven knew what was coming…..a little male bonding with two of his friends…

Diane was thinking about getting back to the car as she emerged from the porta-potty. There were a number of bottles of water there….Isabel could wash up with that..and THEN use the hand goo. It was a rather warm day, and the desert sun had heated the green plastic of the porta potty…the smell had been sickening. But as she heard the engines of the big Harleys come down the access road…saw them cut her and Diane off from the car…from little Max…saw the men looking at them…she realized what real discomfort was.

Diane had talked to the kids…given them the lecture like the book said…about good and bad touching. The men were still ten feet away…but even so…they were touching her somehow with their eyes…her and little Isabel. She could feel their eyes crawl over her body…in a way that made her stomach want to empty itself. She’d parked in the nearest parking place to the rest area except for one that had been for the handicapped. They were parked mostly in that one…surrounding the Volvo on one side…separating her from Max…forcing her and Isabel to go through them or go even deeper into the desert away from the car to go around them…and those three pairs of eyes were following them intensely as the men’s faces each had the same evil sort of smile.

She tried to avoid making eye contact…tried to not let the fear she felt show in her face…tried not to scare Isabel…as she clutched her daughter and marched her past the first man toward the car, relieved that he made no attempt to stop her. But as she was almost past the second man, the third got off his bike and stood in front of her. As she stopped in indecision she felt the hand of the second man against her cheek, turning her head to face him. The eyes of the man looked at hers…then traveled slowly down her body…giving her the same kind of bad touching feelings….before coming to rest on Isabel. As her fear flared she pulled Isabel closer and shuddered. The man looked back at her face and smiled.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, Momma? You and sweetcakes there?” he laughed . She smelled the aroma of stale beer and cigarettes on his breath. The other two laughed as well.

Diane fought to control the terror she felt…fought to keep it out of her voice. “I’m sorry…if you’ll just let me through to my car…we’ll be on our way…”

“Now that wouldn’t be any fun,” said Reo. “No fun at all…would it?” He was talking to his fellow Mongols, of course. Reo was pretty sure what was coming would be no fun for this haughty bitch. In fact, he intended to go to considerable lengths to make sure of it…

[greywolf]

Diane remembered the seminar...her sophomore year at Brown...a whole day sponsored by the Women's council...she'd worn that t-shirt that loudly proclaimed 'Our bodies ourselves,'.... there certainly hadn't been any consensus even then as to what to do when confronted by the possibility of sexual assault...and that had been on the quadrangle of a peaceful campus in Rhode Island...surrounded by all the trappings of civilization. The radical feminists had recommended martial arts training...and at one time Diane had actually taken a few courses....but what use was that..in the wilds of nowhere...against three men each twice her size...and when she had two children to protect.

The other two options basically came down to trying to negotiate...or to submit...hoping that by being docile they wouldn't do further serious physical harm. And Diane knew that if it came to the last...well, she was better off than most women. She had no doubt about Philip's love for her...no doubt that if she could not prevent this...he would understand. But she was a lawyer...trained in the power of persuasion...and these three were after all...human beings. Surely she could get through to them...surely she could make them understand how wrong it would be to hurt Isabel or her.


Reo looked at the two before him...already knowing what was to come. It was the woman that interested him...and it wasn't just about getting his rocks off....hell, the Mongols had drugs....booze...money...and because of that....all the biker chicks they wanted. That part was the least of it for him...the parts that he enjoyed were the other two....first the look of fear in her eyes that she'd have...this professional woman...this doctor or lawyer or business lady or judge....or whatever. The look in her eyes when she realized that she was nothing....that she had no control at all...that whatever her education...whatever they paid her...whatever power she thought she had...in the real world she had nothing. When Reo could look into her eyes and see sheer stark terror there....terror and hopelessness...that would be when he started having his fun.

And then the other time....afterwards....when the woman laid there sobbing...when she'd done things she'd never imagined she would ever do....had things done to her she never imagined happening to her....when he looked in her eyes and saw only loathing....not loathing for him...but self-loathing....when Reo knew that the woman would never forget what had happened to her....would never be the same....that's when he'd find his greatest enjoyment...that's when he knew that the haughty bitch would be his forever. Everytime a man touched her...every time a man looked at her...she'd think of this....

The little one meant little to Reo, but he could feel Jake's excitement. Jake liked them new...innocent. Jake liked to see their terror as that innocence was forever lost. Oh, Reo would do her too, because he was a Mongol, and Mongols did these things together....but he'd be just as happy if Jake had her first...Raven too, maybe....maybe after they stretched things out a little...and quieted her down. She'd be whimpering rather than screaming then...and a lot less tight.

But it was the young woman that he was really interested in...he wanted to break her...and he would...he'd broken many before.

Jake looked at the little girl...already he could hear her screams in his mind....see her eyes glaze over with mind numbing terror as he forced himself into her....watching the eyes fill with pain...with horror...leaving her a mindless quivering hulk. Oh, he'd do the woman too.....maybe find something she'd never done...never imagined doing. Maybe have Reo and Raven hold her bent over that concrete picnic table and do her that way...leave a lasting impression on that bitch. But it wouldn't really be the same as with the little girl...cause he'd be her first....and the one she'd always remember.

Raven looked at his two Mongol brothers and smiled his crooked smile. They'd show the world...they'd damn sure show these two..what it meant to be a Mongol. It wasn't just the sex...hell, he could get that from biker chicks, in fact...sometimes he almost felt that they were raping him.

No, it was about doing something wild....something that would show the world what they thought of it...It was sticking it to 'the man'....that's what it was all about being a Mongol...and sticking it to 'the man' today meant sticking it to the things the man cared about...these two bitches here, for instance. Hell, he might even do the little boy in the car...not that he was really in to boys. But as he looked at his Mongol brothers...Reo and Jake...he was sure in to belonging in a group that showed their contempt for everything 'the man' held dear.....

[greywolf]

“Look…we don’t want any trouble,” said Diane.

Reo simply smiled. Of course she didn’t want any trouble…but it wasn’t her choice. If she hadn’t realized that by now…she certainly would shortly.

“Oh…you won’t be any trouble…bitch…not you….and not little sweetcakes here,” he replied, as he pushed back Isabel’s hair and leered at her small face. “You won’t be any trouble at all.”

Isabel recoiled instinctively from the touch. She hadn’t connected...but even so she could tell there was nothing there…no soul inside that body at all, …just something twisted…something cold. She felt the same about Raven and somehow Jake was even worse. She pushed backwards..feeling the warmth and comfort of her mother’s presence behind her. But even there she was uncomfortable..as she felt Diane’s own fear grow within her.

“Please…” said Diane. “You can have money…my purse…”

“You still don’t get it, do you bitch? Of course we can have your money…your purse. We’ve already got them. You aren’t in control of anything here.”

And as Diane watched them surround her…watched Isabel push harder against her as Jake ran his fingers through the young child's long blonde hair…she finally did start to understand….understand what was about to happen….understand what she was not going to be able to prevent. But she had to do something, her heart told her. The kids…they’d already been through so much…abandoned…alone…. She looked down at little Isabel and saw the tears start to come down her eyes…tears of fear as the man touched her. She pulled Isabel tighter and looked at the man who seemed to be the leader.

“Please…Leave the kids alone….I’ll do anything you want...just don’t touch my children.”

Jake and Raven looked at Reo and watched him smile. They’d seen this before. It was really kind of funny…even though it meant they’d have to wait awhile before they got the girl. Reo loved to make women crawl like this…especially well dressed women who thought they could strike a bargain with him…who thought that somehow they had any control at all.

Reo brought his face up to hers…just inches away…and said softly, “Well…maybe if you can do enough to satisfy us….the three of us…maybe then we wouldn’t mess with the kids…”

And as Diane looked in his eyes…and the eyes of the other two looking at her….she realized that her options were now down to one. Philip, she knew, would still love her….wouldn’t blame her…but whatever they did to her…whatever they made her do for them…she had to protect her kids.

She turned Isabel around and looked down at her daughter making sure she had her full attention. “Isabel…I want you to go back to the car. I want you to stay there with Max….don’t come out…don’t even look out the car, do you understand?”

The young girl was frightened…tearful…she wanted to stay with her mother, “But why Mommy…I’m afraid…”

Diane hugged her tightly, “It’ll be OK darling….just go and stay with Max. Mommy has something she needs to do with these men…” and the thought continued in her mind, ‘…and it isn’t going to be very pretty…’

Isabel had never felt as close to her mother…had never felt as close as this to anyone…even Max…without connecting. She could feel the fear in her mother…almost read her thoughts. She knew how desperately Mommy wanted her to do what she asked. She felt numb as her hand slipped from Diane’s…numb as she walked away to the distant Volvo.

As Isabel opened the door, Max looked at her…sensing her fear even before he spoke to her. “Where’s Mommy?”

“She’s back with those men…oh Max, she’s so afraid.”

He touched her arm and made the connection.

*Why should she be afraid of them? They’re the same species as she is..*

*No….no they’re not. I don’t know what they are…just that they’re not like us…not like you and me…and Mommy and Daddy.*

*Is that why she is afraid of them? Because they’re different…?*

*A little...but mostly I think she’s afraid …for us.*

As he ripped open her blouse...kneaded her breasts in a way that he knew had to be painful...she didn't move. The bitch still thought she had control, Reo realized. But before they did her...did things to her that would reduce her to a creature that couldn't live with the memory of all the things that had happened to her....before that...Reo needed to see the fear in her eyes...wanted her to realize that she had no power at all.

Diane was trying to put out of her mind the feel of his hand against her...squeezing her cruelly...she didn't want to do anything to make him angry...she'd endure anything...just as long as he left the kids alone. She'd endure it...somehow.

But as he leaned forward and smiled...somehow she knew...knew what was coming next.

"I was lying you know. When we get done with you...we'll do her too...and even the little boy. You can't bargain....you never had anything to bargain with...you never were in control..."

And as quickly as that...she was out of control..the panic overwhelming her. She tried to strike out...to do something...anything to protect her children...but Raven grabbed her right arm...Jake her left...they pulled her backwards onto the table and Diane was helpless as she saw the face of Reo looking down at her as his hands fumbled for the belt of her pantsuit.

Reo saw what he wanted at last...saw stark terror in Diane's eyes...and he reveled in the knowledge of her terror...fumbling with her belt ...unable to take his eyes from hers...from the frightened helplessness he saw there. His hands moved mechanically as he concentrated on her face....

But his concentration was broken by the golden flash that came from the palm of the young boy.....his concentration...both arms...and one leg....

[greywolf]

It was, Diane would remember later, like being in the eye of a hurricane as the golden flash passed over her. She could feel the incredible energy of it...feel it fling the three away from her...her only pain the scrapes to her right forearm as Raven...as if true to his nickname...took flight. She sat up slowly...still stunned...the screams of the injured men in the background. Only then did she see her son....the golden glow still fading from his palm.

Max was looking at her in fear...in terror....and sorrow...the tears rolling down his little cheeks. Diane saw Isabel come from the direction of the car to stand by his side, herself sobbing quietly as she reached out to touch his arm. Diane had seen it before....the soundless communication her children sometimes had with each other...an only child herself she'd imagined all siblings had something like that...until today.

Isabel walked up to her and took her hand...pullling her away from the concrete table toward the parked Volvo. Diane looked at her daughter in total confusion....unsure just what had happened...unsure how...but grateful that her family was somehow safe. Then she heard her daughter's words...choked out through her sobs....

"Max wants us to go back to the car, Mommy. He wants us to just sit there and wait for him......and not look back this way. Max has something he needs to do with these men, Mommy, ...and.....and...and it's not going to be pretty...."

Reo looked up at the young boy...unsure just what had happened. The pain was bad...but he'd known pain before. That they were caught...of that he had no doubt. His mind was already going through a checklist....the lawyer....the plea-bargaining...the feigned rehabilitation...he'd been caught before. He knew how the game was played.

But as the little blonde haired girl reached up to smooth her mother's clothes and the golden light from her hand mended them...he felt the fear build in him...and as he looked at the tearful eyes of the young boy who approached the three injured men ... watched the palm raise and the glow start...he knew for just a second the feeling of fear and helplessness that he had visited on so many others.

[greywolf]

Diane was shaking from the adrenalin...sitting in the dirt against the side of the Volvo...comforting herself by cuddling little Izzy...not yet really sure what had happened. Her whole world had been turned upside down. The men had been monsters...not even human....and her little children...

She looked down at Izzy...cuddling against her mother for comfort...she'd seen the glow...saw the fabric repair itself...was Izzy human? Was Max? But as she looked into her daughter's frightened eyes...saw the fear...the concern...the love within them...she had no doubt. Izzy was human...no matter where she was from...what strange powers she had...what secrets she'd kept from her mother...Izzy was human.

Diane heard the footsteps approach...too light and too close together to be any of the motorcyclists. As he walked around to her side of the station wagon, she saw Max looking up at her...his eyes full of tears. She saw him reach out to her arm...saw the golden fire flare once again...and saw the deep scratches heal instantly.

"I'm sorry Mommy..."
*I'm sorry Mommy...*

She heard it in her mind as she heard it in her ears...but there was no comparison in the information the two messages contained. As a lawyer, Diane had worked with words...they were her medium. She was good with words...much better than the children. She was persuasive...sometimes eloquent...she'd not known until that moment just how inadequate words could be.

Max was sorry...in so many ways. Sorry he had waited so long to do what he did...sorry he wasn't really the human boy she wanted him to be....sorry that he was different...sorry that he hadn't trusted her with the truth...sorry that he was going to lose two people that he had started to care so much about. He was sorry...bitterly sorry that she would now fear him...and reject him...because of what he'd just done. He'd touched them each...looked in to their souls...seen what they'd done...and what they'd intended to do...and what they would have done again, had he allowed them to live. He remembered what she'd taught him about the law....that no one had any right to be judge, jury, and executioner, ...but he was only a little boy...he only had one year of life experience... He was sorry he couldn't cure the men...but not sorry enough to let them live in a world where his mother and sister and other people lived that they might harm. So he was sorry about what she must think of him now...sorry he and Isabel had to go away...So very sorry...and so grateful for the year she'd given them.

Yes, it was a sorry and scared little boy that stood by the side of the Volvo....there in the middle of nowhere...looking almost eye to eye at the woman he'd always wished really could be his mother...but knew that to be impossible. He thought he had prepared himself for what he would feel through the connection...the fear...the revulsion...the anger...and if that had been what came through it...perhaps he could have borne it better. But as he felt the acceptance come through...the reassurance....the love.... The connection flared even higher as she pulled them to her breast...the love and need and caring binding the three of them together...her love washing into them...into the deepest part of their souls...they were her children...nothing could ever change that...there was no room for doubt...

They held the embrace for fifteen minutes...and finally the tears had dried. She put them safely in the backseat and drove away from the rest stop, without even a look back at the arroyo or the three broken motorcycles...and broken bodies... that it contained. Diane was driving home to Roswell with her kids...not hers because they were born to her....not even hers because of the actions of the Superior Court in Albuquerque. Hers...because they were joined in love for one another.....

6:40 PM Main Street Cafe, Roswell New Mexico

Deputy Valenti paid his check and left a tip. It was time to get to the seminar. The Sheriff's department was hosting the regional meeting on new forensics techniques and that let him share a meal with an old friend from Guadalupe County, one of the deputies there.

"Glad you could make it Bob, when you called and said you had to wait for the coroner at that rest stop, I wasn't sure you'd be here tonight."

"Not much of a case, Jim. I suppose we ought to investigate it a little further...but the likeliest thing is they were just hopped up on dope and racing each other...they appeared to have shot right off the end of the road...where the old guard rail was down. Besides,...they were Mongols...had drugs on them...and money to go buy more. It didn't look like they were robbed or anything and even if it were another gang.....you know, NHBI."

Diane heard the exchange from the booth...where she was sitting with her two children. Perhaps on some other day she might have taken exception to the politically incorrect police slang...NHBI stood for 'no human beings involved,' but from what she'd seen in Max's mind when he'd connected with Reo and Jake and Raven....suddenly her salad didn't seem quite so appetizing as she remembered. She huggeded her children tighter to her until the thoughts went away. But the deputy from Guadalupe was wrong, she knew. There's been three human beings involved...and they were all now sitting in this same booth.

As he came into the restaurant, Philip was surprised. Not to see Izzy sitting next to her mother in the booth...but to see Max on the other side of her...cuddled up just as close. He slid in to the bench opposite them. "Sorry to keep you guys waiting...the court isn't recessed until the judge says it's recessed."

"That's OK....we just got here ourselves. Max and Izzy and I ...well we went exporing...a cave sort of....with some old dusty machinery."

"Probably a mine," said Philip. "There are a lot of them around here..."

"Maybe..." said Diane, although Philip could tell she didn't think so. "We'll take you there tomorrow....let you form your own opinion."

Philip nodded at Max...who seemed to be trying to keep as close to his mother as possible....although he was now starting to be distracted by a little girl with dealy-boppers on her head, who was painting a flying saucer on the wall.

"I think you've turned a corner with our son there."

Diane smiled, "You have no idea..." But he would...tomorrow.

The waitress came to take their order and smiled when she saw Max looking at the girl.

"Her name is Liz....and her daddy and I just bought this place. We are going to turn it in to an alien-themed restaurant...call it the Crashdown. You can talk to her if you'd like...she won't bite..."

Max looked up at his mother questioningly. Diane touched his forearm reassuringly..and the connection formed between them. *She seems very nice Max....and she is VERY cute. Mommy will always love you, darling...but friends are nice too...*

*But use the paints...not your powers* Isabel reminded him.

"Hi...I'm Max," he said as he sat down next to her.

"I'm Liz. Can you paint an alien?"

"Sure..." Yeah....Max figured he could manage an alien. He looked up at his mother smiling reassuringly at him...his father...at Nancy Parker....yeah, this was going to all work out.....