My head...uh...the plot thickens!

[Cherry]

We seemed to have made it back in one piece. Geoff and I didn't become yesterday's pancake special with the JATOs. Goo proved that you don't have to be able to spell helicopter to fly one. The Boss showed true grit in being able to handle Huggies super-absorbant laden with toxic waste. Mac and Gator showed that curses are still curses whether mumbled under one's breath or screamed from a dangling jail cell. Mr. Boss has once and for all proven that he can sleep through just about anything...and Torque, through all of this, knows more than she's letting on. Hmmmmm.

I had long ago given up the plans for the time-stopping device because in order to build it, I would first have to have time to myself to begin with...and, well, that was kind of the reason for the device. A real catch-22 situation. But, the materials were still on site in case anyone else had time to build one. I still had a few ideas for one, but more on that later.

It seemed as if everything would get back to normal, you know, after the kidnapping and explosion and jailbreak. But, there were still questions left unanswered...scores yet to be settled. So, as I awoke that morning thinking all was well in my universe again, there at the kitchen table sat our motley PGA crew... Boss and Mr. Boss (well, he was still sleeping I think), Geoff, Torque and Goo (who definitely knew more than they had syllables to pronounce), my cousin Gator, and Mac. They had been up for awhile it seemed (or maybe had never gone to bed), and were mired in serious conversation. The smell of coffee was strong in the room.

I came in the room and all eyes turned to me. I gulped hard. Did I do something? I couldn't remember doing anything except for that one thing which I never told anyone about and that other thing which I covered up...but other than that I was clean. I asked the group what was going on and then thought ..."Cherry, you idiot! Go back to bed!"

Too late. They were about to tell me. Mac motioned me over to the table which had a map on it and some clues. The Gort head was in the corner by the stove. I looked at the clues assembled on the table. I recognized the PGA keyring along with a few charred pieces of metal taken from the explosion site. I didn't recognize the letter on the table. I read it briefly. It was a ransom note found the day after Torque and I had gone on our wild ride in the Piper. I guess whoever wrote it hadn't counted on the Blue Baron to rescue us.

The handwriting was unfamiliar to me. As I was about to question the note, the Boss said to me in an accusing tone, "Have you seen Luke?"

It caught me off guard. "Why would I have seen Luke?"

The Boss continued. "He was last seen holding your baby. Do you know where he is now?"

I stammered..."So? Torque keeps bad company! I don't know where he is!" I looked at Torque. "Do you?"

"NUH-uh." She said. She looked at Goo.

"Lewk bye-bye HAL say", said the Goo looking rather proud of himself for knowing the answer that the adults didn't.

"You stay away from HAL!" Boss reprimanded her son. (Apparently Torque wasn't the only one keeping bad company as of late.)

"Snorrrrt, zzzzz, chortle!" Mr. Boss concurred.

Gator seemed to find it all too funny and started on a low chuckle that sounded as if it was half-whinny. And, Mac began a mumbled undirected curse.

Geoff, the only one of us not mired in family issues at the present, smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand and wondered about his current employment and its direct corrolation to his sanity.

There was trouble brewing in our midst, and for once I didn't cause it.

[Cherry Pneumatic]

Geoff seemed to calm us down momentarily with a high-pitched whistle made by his fingers in mouth. You know, the kind of whistle the bartender has to do to announce "last call" to a rowdy saturday night crowd. We gave him our attention.

"You are all missing some key evidence right in front of your face!" He said.

"Key...keyring...hehehe", Gator chortled.

Geoff was not amused. "Look at the back of this PGA keyring that Cherry found at the explosion site." He turned it over. On the back, bore the numbers 1...0...We all squinted. The rest of the numbers were charred to the point of being unrecognizable. "Do you know what this means?" Geoff asked us, hoping that we would show him some glimmer of intelligence.

"Uh, it means we can't freaking read it?" Mac offered.

"No," explained Geoff patiently. "It means that this keyring belongs to one of the first pilots with Pierglass. It's a designation number from the roster."

"Ooooooh...." I said increduously. "One of the first...."

[Cherry and Torque]

After a brief discussion about who the key might belong to, we all became very suspicious of each other (and rightly so because we were all scoundrels at heart really).

To eliminate their names from investigation, Boss and Capt. Geoff pulled out their keys and displayed them. Even Mr. Boss woke up to display his key...but then found an urgent need to pee after all of the sleeping that he had been doing...so, he promptly left the room.

Well, 3 down. We decided it might be best to take off to parts unknown to find the other keyholders and see who was missing a key. Sound like an easy task? Well, it isn't!

See, some keyholders had been missing for awhile and were playing dead. Some were deadbeats, dead tired, dead on their feet, or dead ringers for someone else. It was becoming a regular mortuary around here.

We decided to split up. We put the remaining names of keyholders on small scraps of paper and drew them one by one from a coffee cup. As I waddled away from the group in my fuzzy pink slippers and bathrobe, I couldn't help mumbling a curse.

"Darn PGA! Darn keys! Darn everything!" I grabbed another cup of coffee and decided to start packing for myself and Torque. It was going to be a looooong trip.

As I passed Torque in her playpen, I showed her the names on my two scraps of paper. She looked at me quizzically and said, "Mama?"

"We're going bye-bye, Sweetie." I told her. I shook my head thinking of the names that I had drawn. One was currently out flying and the other had been missing for a long time. Looks like I would start with the airborn one first....time to contact Darby and find a point on his route to meet.

[Cherry Pneumatic]

As for the other....

"Where in the name of pontoon landing was I going to find Cap'n Dave?"

[Cherry Pneumatic]

As I was packing frantically, Mac appears beside me.

"You're not going by yourself." He says.

"You're right...I'm taking Torque!" I retort.

Mac: "I'm flying."

Cherry: "I'm flying."

M: "My plane unless you're stealing."

C: (The thought had occurred to me, but...) "Ok, you're flying....BUT I'm flying some too." He rolled his eyes at me. "I'M FLYING SOME TOO!"

M: "Okaaaay, whatever."

C: (that meant yes or that he could be talked into it)..."Ok, you can go."

M: "Meet me in the yard in half an hour."

[The Wrench family]

Meeting Mac was a terrible idea...I should have just "borrowed" a plane from the yard. As I came toward him (Torque's car seat with her in it over one arm and a packed bag over the other), he unveiled the most hideous thing that had been hidden under a tarp. It was a Clevenger, or might have been in a better day, but was now a crop duster...a two-seated, tricked out, red crop duster.

"My pet project." said Mac.

"So this has been my competition for your attention the last few months." I retorted.

Climbing in, I really didn't know what to expect. But, typical to Mac, he had thought of every detail. There were charts, weather reports, area reports, and reports on Darby. There were even things on those reports that Darby probably didn't even know about himself.

"Walla walla, here we come!" yelled Mac over the roar of the engine. "She's a beaut, isn't she?" Mac said stroking the side of the cockpit.

"Indeed." I added somewhat relieved. "What do you call her?"

"The resurrected," he said, "or Rez for short."

Soon we were airborn in Rez and it was flying like a dream. Hard to believe that so few of these exsisted nowadays. All that was left to do was roll the dice. I handed them off to Torque for a roll. She stuck them in her mouth for good luck and I had to go fish for them.

I rolled them into my lap. A two. Must be the altitude. I tried again. A one. I think my dice are broken.

Oh, well. Walla walla, here we come. Hope we can catch up to Darb.

[The Wrench family]

Once we were actually airborn, there was no talking amongst us. We all wore headphones and earplugs and it still sounded as if we were riding in a beer can. Oh, well. Time to take in the scenery, I guess. The weather was clear and Northern California, Oregon and Washington were so beautiful with all of the dense vegetation and magestic mountain scapes.

It also gave me time to really notice Mac's job on the Clevenger. Who else could have re-restored an old crop duster to its original beauty. He had put the second seat back in so that Torque and I would fit snugly, had rereplaced the windows, and had attempted to make the plane quieter all around. But, imagine a metal L5...a METAL L5. Okay, imagine how it sounds to have the rain dancing on a metal roof? Now, imagine if the metal roof was airborn and the winds were hitting it....ok, I think you get it now.

I also reflected on how lucky babies were to sleep in almost any situation...because they find loud repetitive noise soothing. And...how interesting it was to feed and diaper her while airborn, but oh well.

The total trip was 631 miles from SJC to ALW. No, we don't expect to get paid because why should anything change now? And as you know our dice are malfunctioning. But after a couple of pit stops along the way and the time it takes to get back on track, we finally land at ALW. It is a warm and humid day in Walla Walla. We land at ALW after some delays because there is thick traffic here! The total time for the trip is 7 hours (5 and 1/2 flight time plus stops and traffic delays).

Now, I wonder where Darby could be?

[The Wrench Family]

After using my untrusty cell phone to try to contact Darby (who was perplexed as to why we would follow him to Walla Walla, WA), we were no closer to finding him here than if we had stayed in San Jose. You see, the cell phone cut out just as we were about to find out where to meet him and I tried to call him back but my battery was dead and no charger for the phone in sight.

That night we explored the city...we took in a Blues and Rock Music Festival on Flatiron Lawn. I thought for sure Darb would be there, but he wasn't. I tracked down a member of his crew that night at the concert who was already as drunk as could be. "He went thopping." The crew member said.

"He's hopping? You mean like madly hopping around town in a bunny suit?" I asked increduously.

"No THOPPING." Slurred the crew member.

"Well, I hope he is stopping. We can't have any mad bunnies around here. That would be bad for PGA business." I retorted.

The crew member was about to say something else when a particularly lively piece of music came on and he got up to dance. He didn't make the dance. He fell over his own feet face first into the lawn. He seemed passed out cold for the night.

Yesterday was spent trying to get a charger for my cell phone. I had no time to look for Darby. Mac had gone off, who knows where, mumbling something about a part he needed for something else and to meet him back at our motel that night. I spent the day carrying around an angry Torque who told everyone in Walla Walla that we met that she would "destwoy" them. It didn't make us preferred customers at the shops.

Last night I dragged Mac out to a production of "Annie" that was playing out at Fort Walla Walla Ampitheater. I thought for sure Darby would be there. I mean, who doesn't like Annie? But, alas, no trace of him or the bunny suit.
I was beginning to think there might not be a bunny suit.

So, today, I'm up early with the family to go to the Farmer's Market for some shopping. Maybe I'll run into Darby there. I mean, everyone knows how much Darby likes to go shopping.

[Cherry, Mac, and Torque]

The Farmer's Market is a blast! Still no Darby though. Mac is getting bored. He keeps chanting under his breath "it's family time...it's family time..."

I must confess that I don't know what Darby looks like. The only lead I have so far is the bunny suit theory.

Ahhhh...luck! I spot the crew member that I recognize from the concert. I run up to him with Torque strapped to my back in a pack.

"Remember me?" I ask.

"No...but then I drink alot," he says honestly. He then looks at me and reflects for a moment. "Is that my kid?" He asks.

"No, this most certainly is not your kid!" I reply fiercely.

"Are you sure? I mean, you and I could have..." He makes a back and forth pushing motion.

At this point, Mac comes up behind us and raises his fist and rears back and...

I stop Mac mid-air. "We need his help." I say. "We need to find Darby."

"Darby's over there," the guy gestures vaguely. "You'll catch up if you hurry."

I head off in the direction he pointed and look back at Mac and say "ok". I hear muffled screams coming from the direction of the crew member. That'll teach him how to treat a lady. I run forward looking all around. No bunny suits...no bunny ears. But, I do see someone dressed in a PGA flight jacket. Maybe that person has seen Darby.

I walk up hopefully. "Pardon me, I'm looking for Darby Wilcox? My name is Cherry Pneumatic Wrench."

[Cherry Pneumatic]

After our positive confrontation with the stunned Darby, we are finally on our way back home. We are dice-less and no closer to who has been behind all of the mayhem then we were before.

So far we know this:
It's not Boss or Mr. Boss. It's not Geoff. It's not Darby. It IS an original keyholder with the numbers 1-0...(at least they will know something about it if not involved directly).

The message from Boss heralded the return of Luke. He's now professing to have been in a coma. Likely story. He's also talking about "they" and "them".
He also is so rattled that he's writing on an old message board. I think he's doing that to throw us off the trail.

I hope he's still at SJ when we get back. I have some questions for him.

[Cherry Pneumatic]

The trip home was uneventful despite lack of dice. On the way we sang a little song, Mac and I did, as Torquie cooed to the beat...

"Do you know the way to San Jose?
I've been away so long, I may go wrong and lose my way.
Do you know the way to San Jose?
I'm going back to find some peace of mind in San Jose..."


*Look. Okay, so we're singing. It's a family outing for the love of heaven. We can't be nearly killed every time we step foot outside of (or inside of) our hangar. It would be like living in a landmine! And, can you imagine the therapy bills we would incur? So, for now we're just singing...get over it!*

[Cherry]

Have you ever noticed that going somewhere takes forever when you want to get there in a hurry? Well, the trip back to San Jose seemed as if it lasted nearly a week. Yes, the happy little trip back that started out with a song now sounded something like this by the time we hit touchdown at Hangar 12...

Cherry: "You said that I could fly back."

Mac: "No, I didn't."

C: "You said that you would think about it."

M: "I did think about it. I thought about it the whole trip. I thought about you taking the controls and flying us to the Congo to find Cap'n Dave. It gave me dreams at night that made me twitch. This way, no side trips or anything. We're back at good ol' Hangar 12."

C: "I wouldn't have flown us to the Congo...yet."

M: "Well, good because I have work to do."

C: "Good because I have work to do also."

Mac throws our stuff down in the corner of the living room. I prepare to dislodge Torque from her "car" seat. "Where are you going?" I say to Mac who's already half out the door again.

Mac: "Got work to do."

Cherry: "Which is....?"

M: "I'm a mechanic."

C: "OH...that work."

Mac goes away shaking his head. The truth is that I have alot of work to do also. I need to track Luke down and talk to him and then I have a party to plan.

[Cherry Pneumatic]

Torque and I are looking low and high...mostly low...for Luke. As I walk around Hangar 12, I call out... Luke, Luke...I need to talk to you!

Torque calls out in her baby language of a voice...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!(which really sounds more like a shriek, but is attention getting anyway).

[lukexcom]

I needed to sort things out. Things have gone awry while I was in that coma thingy. I had to catch up on things, and deal with a nasty grue infestation that was spreading through my lair. I was about to take the company Beechjet over to New Mexico. I had to get ready to clear out this grue infestation. It was becoming dangerous to walk in any further than the front office room and my private chamber in my lair. This had to be dealt with. Quickly, ruthlessly, and efficiently.

I planned to pick up a bunch of stuff, such as a particularily nasty chemical agent to be spread throughout the ventilation shafts, a high-intensity light source, some decent thermal goggles, and some other things that I cannot get into here, because even if I did know what they were, I still couldn't speak about them. All I know is whatever special "tools" I'm about to pick up come highly recommended for these types of situations by my sources.

The flight planning was all done. I was looking for a phone to call the local FSS, when I heard someone from Hangar 12 calling my name.

Perplexed at why would anyone want to see me, and ever-so-slightly annoyed at this distraction, I headed towards the source of this voice.

As I approached Hangar 12, an unbelievable shriek pierced the air. I clasped my ears, but to no avail, as the shriek was as-if other-worldly, causing me to collapse on the ground from the sheer pain. I clawed at my ears, trying desperately to end this nightmare of pain, pleading to the heavens to make this scream stop. A nazgul would be felled by this shriek that out-did even their most nefarious calls.

Finally, the shriek paused, possibly because whatever creature that could utter such a terrific noise needed to take a breath. But I was exhausted. I collapsed in the doorway of Hangar 12, hyperventilating and still clasping my ears, as if holding on for dear life.

[Cherry and Torque]

Oh, there you are Luke. Hey, why are you on the ground like that? Well, no matter.

Torque shrieks again as Luke clutches his ears and I notice the source of his misery. I can't help to think it's amusing because I've been listening to her for the past 5 months. A quick look to Torque quiets her.

As I attempt to help Luke up from the ground he shouts, "I can't hear anything!"

I say that he can't hear anything because we aren't saying anything. To which he says, "Oh."

He also remarks about the recent grue infestation. "Yes," I comment, "grues are particularly bad this season." Then I add, "I've nearly been gobbled up myself."

He looks at me as if that wouldn't be too horrible. So, I continue...

"By now I'm sure you've heard around the hangar all of the talks about the kidnapping and explosion. I'm sure you've also heard about the key that I found at the explosion site."

Luke shrugs as if to say "who me?"

I begin again. "Do you have a PGA key on you? And, who are 'they' and 'them' to whom you keep referring? And, why after one afternoon with Hal does my daughter say 'destwoy' all of the time?"

I looked at him impatiently. I could tell that he was about to come up with something that could rival even the coma story...

[lukexcom]

"A key? A PGA key? My, my. I haven't used my issued PGA keys in a while. Heck, I haven't used my PGA locker key in ages, ever since I moved into my lair, and kept my things there. But actually, I do remember losing my PGA locker key some months ago....never seen it since. The last time I saw it was on the hangar's coffeetable along with a gold ring of mine, which also got lost at the same time. The ring was a favorite of mine. It had the cheap-but-cool effect of having letters glow on it when exposed to heat and light. It's not worth much, but it holds a lot of sentimental value to me. If you found it too, I'd really appreciate having it back. It is precious to me."

"'They' are a certain group in a certain government agency. The NSA, although dealing primarily with signals intelligence and the like, does have its own operations directorate. And under that directorate, are various groups that do their employer's bidding. Now, considering my past employment, I have maintainted a "relationship" of sorts with the operations directorate. As of right now, they, shall we say, "owe me one", and as such I could get them to pull a few strings, spoof up some intelligence and information, provide some decent equipment, and such. But if you want to actually get them involved to where they have to deploy themselves in a full-blown operation... well, then they really don't do that "mercenary stuff" much anymore, after a nasty incident and an ensuing internal scandal some years ago. Although if a very generous donation were to be given to them...who knows. But nobody short of a large corporation would be able to do that these days, I'm sure. Although I have heard of some very creative forms of donations that have been accepted in the past."

"I have no idea as to why your daughter has acquired a taste of the word "destwoy". Perhaps HAL has been trying to teach her the english language to see how much she could pick up? And maybe she just decided to fixate her attention on the word "destwoy"? But just in case, I'll try to make sure that she won't be close enough to HAL for him to effectively communicate with her again."

[Cherry Pneumatic]

Why do any conversations with Luke make me walk away shaking my head? So, he lost his key...yeah, right. Okay, number 1039, what is your involvement in the kidnapping and subsequent explosion. I'll find out...