My Homecoming

[Ron Caliburn]

There’s an old saying “Sometimes you can’t go home.”

For me, that’s been for almost ten years. For ten years I have lived out in the world, away from the friends and family and security I had in my home. For ten years I’ve struggled against men, monsters, demons and myself.

But now, for the first time I was ready to go home. To a place I wouldn’t be welcomed. To a place that didn’t want me anything but dead.

But I wasn’t going alone.

The plan, in it’s essence, was a simple distract and snatch. My team had to distract, the other team had to snatch.

I kept my team small. Me, Bert and Ted. Of the three of us, I would be the only one really stepping into harms way.

I really couldn’t ask anyone else to stick their necks out this far . . . nor could I bear with giving someone an order which would give them a likelihood of a kill or be killed scenario with a family member of mine.

This was my problem, this was my family, and therefore I must have the ultimate risk and the ultimate responsibility.

Bert, Ted and I had slipped through the outer wire and made our way through a forested section of the property. There was couple of miles between the inner and the outer fences here, and all of it wooded. It was also almost directly opposite from the side of the compound where the snatch team would be operating.

I helped Bert and Ted set up their position just within the tree line. Their field of fire was good. Bert with the Chey-Tac should be able to pick off any vehicles while Ted with the SR-25 could provide local defence and covering fire.

Once they were ready I put on my ghillie and started my creep the 200 yards or so to the inner fence line. Once there I bypassed the electric wire and started snipping links on the fence. Once I had made a small opening I wriggled through and hauled my bag after me.

In the darkness I prepared my hide. My entrenching tool cutting into the semi-frozen mud. After an hour I had a fighting position that offered me both adequate concealment and cover. I hunkered down, munched on an MRE and waited through the long, cold night.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Ron, I'd do it again, do it a hundred times over if necessary. For a good man I'd go to hell and back (or beat the snot out of demons in his subconscious, right KT? ).

Anyhow, setting up was a bitch, it always is. At least in the treeline we weren't in the mud, we had a nice carpet laid down for us by the trees. Although I had a fucking root in my back or in my gut depending on how I was laying down.

Ahead of our position just a little bit still inside the treeline and behind us about 50ft off, I setup a few Claymore Mines. Well, sort of. They were Stingball Grenades that Ron and I had modified to function as a Claymore. Either by remote detonation or a Trigger of somekind (usually a tripwire) the device would go off sending a huge blast of rubber balls downrange. If our position was being overrun, those would certainly slow down anyone charging us with only a minimum chance of any injury and only an infimitesimal chance of anything more serious than a bad bruise.

Ted would be spotting for me and providing protection against anyone sneaking up on us. He's a good man and apparently there's quite a bit more about him than Ron lets on about.

I came lightly armed; I had a Grenade Launcher to fulfill a specific purpose later on, my Colt 1911 .45 Automatic Pistol, and my A.S.P. And the Rifle of course. And I always carried several knives. And I had a half dozen Stingball Grenades and a half dozen Flashbangs.
...
Ok! So I was lightly armed by my standards! I had enough stuff for a team of four and I still felt naked!

*coughs*

Anyhow, that's it for now. More later.

[Ron Caliburn]

Thanks Bert. More than I can ever repay properly.

____________________


The early morning sun started to warm the mud around me . . . not enough to make me feel any warmer, but enough to start melting the mud into my hide. Not a pleasant way to wake up, but I made do.

I performed a radio check and Bert and Ted were both coming in fine. I checked my watch. The snatch team had a precise schedule, and I had mine. If we were both on time, things would go smoothly. If we weren’t, one or both teams would be left hanging out to dry.

Time moved so slowly….

If I started too early or the other team started too late, my family’s forces would deal with me then turn around and deal with the snatch team.

I waited….

If I started too late or the other team started to early, the snatch team would get dealt with first and then my family could come and deal with me.

I checked my weapons to be sure the mud hadn’t gotten into them and had another MRE.

If I started right on time, my family would come out to deal with us. We could pin them down while the snatch team picked up my sister without ever seeing any resistance.

I took a few last pulls from my hydration pack. Better to store the water inside of me than on my back.

I checked my watch….

Almost time…

I slowly took the slack out of the fishing line I had attached to my bypass on the fence’s electrical system. When it was taut I checked my watch and waited.

The second hand swept its arc around the face of my watch …

Kolya’s signal came right on schedule.

I pulled the fishing line, pulling off the bypass I had set up. About 4 miles away, in the command room of the compound, an alarm would be sounding about a break in the fence’s electrical system. A group of the men folk would be loading up and piling into the trucks to make their way here a few moments after that.

“Bait’s out.” I radioed Bert the code that I had tripped the alarm.

“Reel ‘em in.” Bert’s reply told me he was ready for action . . . as always.

It took about 20 minutes before he spotted them coming towards me. “Fish on, two big ones.” Two trucks. The quick reaction force, the main body will be a few minutes behind them. “Let me know when to land ‘em.”

“Just a nibble, I’ll let you know when to set the hook.”

They needed to be closer, so I could keep them pinned in position and force the rest of the men-folk to come out and rescue them.

But not too close, or I risked a lot of live rounds flying at me.

Soon the trucks were in sight of me. I watched them through the reflex sight on my 416. They were a pair of the 4x4s my family had modified. The bodies had been armoured to with stand rifle fire. But they weren’t going to be a match for Bert’s Chey-Tac.

I watched them getting closer. 400 yards.

300 yards

200 yards

100 yards

“Set the hook and reel ‘em in!” I signalled Bert to fire.

50 yards

“Bert, that’s close enough!”

25 yards

“Engage!”

The lead truck rolled past me and I knew I was on my own.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

I checked, double checked, and triple checked the rifle. Everything was in perfect working order. I'd been up for hours already, keeping an eye on the wind and weather, going over contingency plans with Ted. We had every base covered from Animated Vegetation to Zombies. Well, that's what we thought anyway.

Everything was going according to plan, that should've been my first indicator that something was amiss. Ron and I were communicating over the radio, he was going to tell me to fire any second. Just a squeeze of the trigger. I had the car lead, the wind was the barest of breezes. The lighting was perfect.

“Set the hook and reel ‘em in!” Ron signalled me.

I squeezed the trigger.

*Click*

I pulled it again.

*Click* *Click*

"What the fuck is wrong with this thing!?" I hissed under my breath.

"Ted!" I yelled in a whisper. "This fucking thing isn't working!"

"Oh, isn't it?"

That voice.

I rolled onto my back and drew my sidearm.

Standing above Ted's unmoving form was that fucking Nightmare.

"I don't think you'll be helping Mordechai today."

[Ron Caliburn]

With a truck already past me, my escape route was now cut off. Worse, Bert hadn’t engaged. . . or responded.

I needed to deal with the situation now, and worry about Bert and Ted later.

I hit the quick release on my ghillie suit and rose out of the mud directly in front of the second truck.

The driver, unsure for a moment, hit the breaks.

I took a breath, inhaling the carbon smell of the filters on my respirator and leapt.

My foot found purchase on the top of the bumper, thrusting me higher for my other foot to land on the hood.

As I leapt up the face of the truck I directed my 416 at the windshield. The 40 mm coughed as I pushed off from the hood.

I shoulder rolled across the top of the cab while the grenade passed through the windshield.

I dropped flat into the truck bed as the grenade went off.

The tempered glass muffled the flash-bang into a dull thunk. Rubber spheres and pepper spray filled the entire of the cab as I rolled out the back of the truck bed.

The truck careened and rolled over twice before coming to rest on its roof.

The other truck skidded sideways to a halt astride my escape route. Doors swung open and it’s passengers dropped out of the truck and took cover.

I dropped and rolled under the standard truck, a burst from my 416 catching an uncle. At that range, the rubber bullets wouldn’t penetrate the skin . . . but it would sure feel like they did. He dropped down screaming like he was dying.

You really didn’t think I was going to shoot up my own family, did you?

I rammed another round into the grenade launcher as a cousin ran over to where my uncle lay in “mortal” agony. I set the grenade off against a tree stump nest to them. Again the combo of noise, pepper spray and rubber balls did its work, removing them from the fight.

I got up to make my next move towards cover and came face to face with the other occupants of the truck.

Zachariah and Zebediah . . . the twins.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

I didn't bother to say anything, I just pulled the trigger. I emptied half the clip in my Colt .45 at the fucker, but the rounds just passed through him and impacted the trees behind him.

"That wasn't very nice." he commented. He held up a few small mechanical bits in one hand. "I bet you'd love to get this back." He was holding most of the trigger mechanism.

Behind him, Ted began to stir. And in my mind, a plan was forming. A simple plan, but those usually have the best chance of success at times like this.

[Ron Caliburn]

Zak and Zeb as we called them were just a couple of years younger than me, so we’d played and trained together growing up. Despite being twins, they were distinctly different in appearance. Zak was small and lithe, while Zeb was big and beefy. Each was faster and stronger than any grown man in the compound by the time they were twelve. The only man I’d ever seen beat Zak in a fight was Zeb, and Zak was the only one I’d ever seen beat Zeb.

I had my 416 on Zak. Zak had his M1911A1 on me and Zeb had his double barrelled 12 pointed at me too

“Mordecai? ‘sat you?” Zak stared at me in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You shouldn’t oughta come back.” Zeb admonished.

“We’re gonna have ta kill yer.” Zak continued.

“Unfortunately, the way things are right now, I won’t be going out alone. Either one of you pull the trigger I will too, and then one of you is going to be left all alone.”

“Hmmm, that’s a real conundrum.” Pointed out Zeb.

“Yeah, we don’t want anyone o’ us ta get kilt if we don’t have tah. Do you have a suggestion Mordecai?” Zak inquired.

“We could do this the old fashioned way, like when we were kids. I take you on one at a time and if either of you beat me, you got me. If I beat both of you I get to tie you up.”

Both of them knew I’d never been fast enough to beat Zak or strong enough to beat Zeb. I knew it too, but I wasn’t too keen on putting my armour to the test at that short of range.

“Alright, the old fashioned way.” Zeb announced. “I’ll go first . . . but you gotta put down your gun first.”

Not totally fools. . . but hopefully foolish enough.

I cautiously set down the 416, careful to keep as much of it as possible out of the mud. Satisfied, they both nodded and laid down their pieces.

There was no signal, but then again there never was one. As kids’ we’d always been expected to be able to defend ourselves without any preparation. Zeb just wound up and came at me with a fist the size of my head.

I ducked the blow, and landed an uppercut . . . straight between Zeb’s tree trunk sized thighs.

Zak almost fell over laughing as Zeb rolled on the ground, clutching his manhood and slapping the mud in pain. They may be twins, but they was still a couple of good ol’ boys at heart.

I really felt sorry for having to do that actually, I always liked these two.

I turned and squared off to Zak. He immediately regained his composure. We started to circle each other. Zak, had always been a much more cautious fighter, a counter puncher. He was blindingly fast and able to hit you first even when you swung early. He was also almost as strong as Zeb, so one hit was usually all it took. But he had his weak points.

“What you waiting for, Two-inch.” The effect of Zak’s childhood nickname, earned from a wardrobe malfunction in the swimmin’ hole, was immediate.

For a normal man, a roundhouse is a slow kick. From Zak, it’s as fast as an Ali jab. I almost felt my shoulder dislocating before I saw Zak move.

But I didn’t need to see Zak move, I knew where and when he was going to kick. As he connected with my shoulder, I brought my other hand up and connected on the back of his knee with the Taser.

I leaned the Taser into him as he fell backwards. Only releasing it the moment I had Zak lined up to knock him senseless with a boot to the head.

“Y-y-y-ya cheated.” Wheezed Zeb.

“I won.” I replied as I picked up the 416. “Now tie him up for me.”

When I had lived here, they had won every fight because it was a training exercise among family and friends.

But I had too much at stake to hold back on them.

I leaned back against the truck while Zeb, with one hand, did his best to tie up Zak. Men of their word these too, I really liked them. I wish I hadn’t had to be so rough on them.

While Zeb was distracted, I slammed my shoulder against the truck, gritting through feeling it pop back into place. I know I’ll be feeling that again in the winter.

When the feeling returned I thoroughly tied Zeb . . . and put a nice generous load of semi frozen mud where I’d hit him.

“Mighty nice of you, Mordecai.”

“Your welcome.” A boot put his lights out.

Hating myself, but knowing I had to take care of things quickly, I reached into the truck and grabbed the CB.

“Recon team has engaged. We have men down and are unable to extract. Send reinforcements. Send everything you got. . . .

I paused, then added.

“It’s Mordecai . . . he’s back!”

[Bert_the_Turtle]

I rolled up on to my feet. Using my left hand, which was obscured from Mr. Asshole by my body, I signed to Ted "FB" and hoped he was aware enough to pick up on it. Slowly, he fished a grenade out of his pocket and gave me the thumb's up. He pulled the pin and readied an underhanded toss.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" I cried and pointed at Ted.

I don't think Asshole fell for it, so much as he was supremely overconfident in his position. When I had yelled, Ted had tossed, and the Flashbang had gone off only a few inches from Asshole's face. I had hidden my head and lights still swam before my eyes when I looked back. I pulled out my Tazer and pressed it against Asshole's Neck, forcing him to the ground. I pulled my wooden bladed knife in one motion and pried the mechanism from his clenched fist. Ted moved in with his Spas-15, a kind of shotgun, and pressed it to the Assholes head. "You bastards!" he roared "I'm not done with you yet!" and faded from sight.

I practicly dove on the Chey-Tac and started dismantling it so i could put it back together.

[Ron Caliburn]

I tried to raise Bert and Ted on the radio. Nothing. I debated calling the snatch team . . . but I didn’t want to give away their position or their objectives.

I needed to move quickly.

I pulled together the crew I’d subdued . . . cousins, uncles and one-time friends all . . . and bound them, stripping their weapons and radios.

The cavalry was soon cresting the rise. Trucks, jeeps and cars bounced along the turf with men riding horses along side.

I reached into my kit bag and pulled out what I had intended to use to cover my escape.

Resigning myself to being captured . . . and what came with that . . . I shouldered the MGL.

KT, if you’re reading this, you might want to skip the next few paragraphs. I’m sorry but I had to break a promise to you.

In the original plan, both Bert and I were going to use MGLs to create a massive screen of fire and smoke for me to withdraw behind. The six White Phosphorous grenades in each weapon would guarantee I could leave unseen.

Instead, I had to use it to break up the forces coming at me.

But I also had to avoid hurting them.

I dropped the line of WP’s in front of them – so the vehicles would have to plunge through the fire and smoke.

The horses, being inherently intelligent creatures, reared and bucked rather than charge through. Most shed their riders immediately. A few raced off heedless of their riders’ commands and expletives.

Okay KT, you can start reading again.

The cars and trucks and jeeps had all made it through, though engine and tire fires had stranded a couple of them too far from the battle to participate. The crews spilled out and took defensive positions.

The rest of the trucks and jeeps and cars stopped up top of the ridge. Unsure of what they were up against, or unwilling to brave another barrage.

Except one.

I didn’t have to guess who was in it. Only one man in this place had that big a hate on for me.

I dropped the MGL back into the kit bag and fished another grenade from my tactical vest and loaded it into my under-barrel launcher.

I adjusted my respirator and stood there in the open, daring them to steer right for me.

There is no way my father would let me get away.

Muzzle flashes from the passenger’s side were followed shortly with the report from an automatic rifle.

I wasn’t worried. At this range, bouncing along in that old Crown Vic . . . he’d be lucky to hit a house.

I adjusted the range setting on the reflex sight and placed the red-dot square on the radiator grill.

I fired at the same moment a round from my father’s gun hit home.

I dropped to the ground immediately, twisted around by the impact on my hip.

My grenade flew true, its penetrator tip smashing through the radiator. Its load of pepper spray filling the engine compartment, robbing the engine of air and smothering it. At the same time, the engine’s fan was sucking the spray through the vents and filling the cabin with a white mist that burned eyes and nose.

The car ground to a halt as I turned to look at my injury.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

I dove for the rifle and landed on that fucking root. I still have the bruise from that. I pulled out the manual and my pocket tool kit and started figuring out what the fuck I was doing. Ted took the manual from me and read off instructions as I worked which really sped things up, but it was still agonizingly slow going. Mr. Asshole knew what he was doing by removing that part in particular. Taking it out was relatively easy, but putting it back in required stripping away most of the gun. Now, I can field strip, clean and oil, and put back together an M16 in the dark in less than a minute. That skill doesn't really apply here so it took a little while. It felt like forever getting it apart but it was really more like 5 minutes.

I can only imagine it felt even longer to Ron who was without any support.

[Ron Caliburn]

My magazine pouch had been blown off by the heavy .308 round, I could feel a bruise welling up on my hip . . . but I was otherwise unscathed.

The two occupants had bailed out of the car. The driver was gagging and wheezing. My father, who had been leaning out the window to shoot at me, was shaking out the cobwebs as he rose

I picked myself up and charged him. Emptying the remainder of my C-Mag of rubber bullets at him. Some struck home, each impacting against his body armour like a punch from a professional boxer. Most of them hit the car and the dirt around him. The combined effect pushed him back under cover.

With the C-Mag empty I let the sling take the weapon and pulled my .40 from it’s holster. These were live rounds, but I knew the car had been armoured against rifle fire, so I aimed for the hood next to where he was hiding and plinked away to keep his head down.

Once I was next to the car I tossed a pepper spray grenade into his hiding spot. I charged into the cloud as soon as it went off, my respirator shielding me.

My father, half blind, jabbed at me with his M-14 . . . the bayonet missing my face by less inches than I care to count.

I grabbed the barrel, my gloves shielding me from its heat and forced the butt of the rifle hard into his chest. I followed up with a kick to the stomach and tossed the rifle away.

I had him.

My .40 was in my hand again.

The memories of the beatings . . . of my mother . . . of Sarah . . . of all the indignities and violence he had forced upon me flooded back as I stared into his frightened face.

I could end it . . . forever. I could end his hold on me. I could end the insanity he had brought to the lives of the cultists. I just needed to pull the trigger.

“Do it you son of a bitch!”

I put a bullet into the tire next to his head. It’s explosive deflation causing my father to drop to his side. His pants started to stain with more than just the spring mud.

“I want to . . . and you don’t deserve to talk about my mother that way. She was the best thing that had ever happened to you. A woman of gentle humour who would bear your insults and your abuse with a smile.

“The same smile she was wearing when we found her with her wrists slit.

“You deserve everything I have in this gun turning your skull into a work of abstract art.

“But you also deserve worse.

“You are a failure as a father and a failure as a leader. The rest of the folks, up there atop of the hill will know this soon. Your punishment for your crimes against our . . . against my family will be to loose everything and fade into insignificance.

“You are through.

“Now I’m going to take Hannah and leave.”

“Hannah, this was all about Hannah? That’s not going to work, you still have almost the entire compound on top of the ridge blocking your way. They are good men, God’s men and they will stop you and send you to the Hell you belong in.”

The car’s radio crackled to life. “This is the Watch Tower, it looks like Hannah’s on a runaway horse. Anybody who can stop them, hurry before she gets hurt.”

My father stared at the radio in disbelief. “How in God’s name did you?”

I shut him up with a kick to the head. I had to stop the folks on top of the ridge from intercepting Hannah and KT.

I dropped the C-Mag out of the 416 and slapped in a 30 round clip of armour piercing. Up on the ridge, the functional vehicles were moving, a few of the horses had been corralled and were already on their way.

I sighted in on the first of the moving cars. Through my scope I watched my rounds take out the front tire, immobilizing the vehicle.

Almost immediately I was greeted with a hail of fire from back up on the ridge. I ducked down, putting the engine block between me and the bullets. M16, AK-47s BARs, Garanads, M-60s . . . all kicked up the dirt around me and struck hard at the metal shielding me.

I’d failed. The vehicles were pulling away and I couldn’t stop them.

I thought about the amulets I’d been given, perhaps if I used them I might be able to buy enough time to stop one or two of the vehicles . . . before I was cut down by the gunfire from atop the ridge.

I thought of Hannah and reached into my pocket.

CRACK!

A bullet sped by overhead, followed by the sonic boom of its passing.

THUNK!

It struck home on one of the vehicles up on the ridge.

Bert was back on the job.

“Hit ‘em Bert, they are going after Hannah!” I radioed.

“Way ahead of you Caliburn. You okay?”

“Yeah, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you later, busy shooting.”

A few more cracks echoed across the fields.

“I got them all but a jeep and the guys on the horses.”

My thoughts went to KT. “Go fast and hard my friend, my everything rides upon you.”

I clicked on the radio “Okay Bert, we’ve done all we can here. . . give me a smoke screen so I can get out of here.”

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Putting everything back together was a lot faster than taking it all apart since I knew where all the parts went and how they fit together now. It only took a minute and a half to repair everything and reassemble the weapon.

At which point I just started sighting vehicles and disabling them. I could see them turning around and heading towards the Snatch Group. Every trigger squeeze disabled another vehicle. The horsemen I couldn't do anything about, too small of a target behind too much cover, and the Jeep Driver was smart enough to keep himself between me and the vehicles I had already disabled. I hoped that it would be enough though.

Ron's voice crackled across the radio, “Okay Bert, we’ve done all we can here. . . give me a smoke screen so I can get out of here.”

I picked up the grenade launcher and laid down a wall of fire and smoke between Ron and the ridge. I reloaded with a cluster of regular smoke grenades in case he needed more obfuscation brought to bear.

It seemed as if everything was going to work out after all regardless of Mr. Assholes interferance.

[Ron Caliburn]

I'll admit to a momment of pettiness. I gave my father another kick before I left.

The smoke screen, and the thought of a concealed sniper with a weapon capable of stopping an armoured truck kept my family from doing too much to stop me.

Soon I was with Bert and Ted, headed for our vehicle.

The only thought on my mind was the ones that got away and if they'd stop Josh.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

I hurridly stuffed everything I wasn't leaving behind into a duffle bag. I sure as hell wasn't abandoning the CheyTac. Almost everything else was left behind though. We easily won the race to our vehicle, what with nobody persuing us in favor of not potentially having their head removed by a sniper.

[Ron Caliburn]

We headed off for the rendezvous and hoped to see one more face there than when we left.

[Ron Caliburn]

When we got the radio message, I asked Bert to put the hammer down and get us to the rednezvous as quick as possible. I'd waited too long for this momment to miss it.

I think I was out the door of the truck before Bert had even stopped. I almost knocked over Kolya (no mean feat when you're trying to) on my way through the clump of people.

I guess no-one really expected me to just grb her and hold her like that. Not saying anything . . . but there was so much to say and so little time to say it that words were meaningless.

I didn't let her out of arm's reach the entire trip back to the hotel or at any moment during our victory party.

After a couple of hours, I let the rest of you guys whoop it up (you earned it) and took Hannah back to my suite. There were things I had to explain to her.

She and I talked for a long time before the exhastion of the day's events finally set in. I put her to bed, and watched her sleep a couple of more hours before I returned to the party and explained to my friends there what I had just explained to my daughter.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

You shocked the hell out of me Ron. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but honestly I was knocked off my feet.

Yeah, Ron and Hannah were inseperable for the longest time, and I can almost gauruntee that he's sitting with her right now. She's a real sweetheart Ron, I can't imagine how hard its been on you for all these years to not be with your own daughter.

[KonThaak]

It was hard typing up the rest of the posts after Ron had dropped that bombshell on us. Not that I entirely blame him, but...I almost accidentally let slip several times, but I knew it was Ron's secret that Hannah was his daughter, not his sister...

I hope y'all are happy together. She's got a lot of potential; I could sense it when I was running with her... If ever she wants help to cultivate it, I'll be there to help her.

[Ron Caliburn]

Wasn't easy.

Also wasn't easy not telling the truth to you guys sooner - considering you were risking your necks for me, but it was important that nobody knew about the truth - otherwise my father might have done something . . . unpleasent to her and to Sarah.

Sarah, stubborn as ever, decided not to get out. She's made a promise to her husband under the eyes of God and she can't break it. She's going to public announce the true details of why I was there. She and I hope it will end my father's reign.

In the meantime. I need to see to Hannah.

Have a good one all.

[KonThaak]

Take care, man. Tell her I said the same thing, and I hope my being the horse she rode out on doesn't bother her too much...

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Ron:

I understand and agree with your reasons to keep it quiet. I also hope Sarah's revelation has the desired effect. And if I were in your shoes Ron, you'd think my daughter and I were surgically attached for a year .

KT: "...and I hope my being the horse she rode out on doesn't bother her too much..."

If she hangs out with weirdos like us she'll get used to that sort of thing pretty quick.

[Ron Caliburn]

Take care, man. Tell her I said the same thing, and I hope my being the horse she rode out on doesn't bother her too much...

Nope, she likes horses.

She talks about you as much as she does Shadowstalker.

I suppsoe that kind of stuff is my own fault for waiting until she was a teenager.

[Ron Caliburn]

Ron:

I understand and agree with your reasons to keep it quiet. I also hope Sarah's revelation has the desired effect. And if I were in your shoes Ron, you'd think my daughter and I were surgically attached for a year.

Yeah . . . I need to figure out how to balance the other aspects of my life with her needs.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Well, if I were in your shoes, I'd teach her how to protect herself as soon as possible. She isn't surrounded by armed relatives anymore. Just one

Once you know she'll be safe at home by herself, it makes the other parts that much easier.

[Michael T]

Not aproblem on the deception Ron. You have all seen me post my rage at my daughter being threatened, Shadowstalker saw it first hand when we rescued her. I really need to post that story soon, but with staying by her and the rescue and now the incident with Ben there has be no time.

And I am going out of country soon for another operation, maybe by summer I can actually catch up on the postings I feel I should have made.

[KonThaak]

She talks about you as much as she does Shadowstalker.

Whoa. o_o; Err, aside from being a horse, I did nothing to warrant that. ^^; Well, and being a falcon.

I dunno that I deserve that kind of attention. ^^;

[Bert_the_Turtle]

You mean there's finally a non-married female that isn't interested in me? Stick that in your pipe and smoke it Kolya!

[Shadowstalker]

Bert are you looking to get a talking to from Ron?

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Haha, nopers. Not interested. Just pointing out that it can happen from time to time. After all the ribbing I took about HS, Kelly, Tabitha,and Natasha taking an interest of one kind or another.

[Ron Caliburn]

Well, if I were in your shoes, I'd teach her how to protect herself as soon as possible.

Way ahead of you.

KT, you carried her to safety big guy. She says she knew you weren't a horse when she saw you, but she also knew you were a friend.