Babs' New Year's Resolution 88

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Babs' New Year’s Resolution 88

© Beverly Guinevere Taff

Lola Smith Bab’s adopted trans daughter.
Callista Denton (Callie). Transgendered Duchess of Denton.
Margaret Denton (Maggie). Callie’s wife.
Molly Denton Callie’s grandmother
Ellie Denton Callie’s mother.
Bab’s Barbara Smith. Lola’s adoptive ‘Nana’
Olivia Smith Bab’s adopted daughter. Lesbian black artist
Angela Smith Bab’s adopted daughter Angela’s lover
Erica Bab’s foster daughter.
Sergeant Bridie Davies Lady Police detective protecting the girls.
Sergeant Brian Davies. Bridie’s twin brother.
Inspector John, Heading up the anti-rape-gang operation.
Gareth Jenkins, Police office trained in firearms and protection.
Belinda Harrington Lola’s university girlfriend.
Aaron Talbot Surgical registrar – married to –
Shirley Talbot Lecturer at Local university.
Mickey Talbot Aaron and Shirley’s oldest son.
Jessica Talbot Aaron & Shirley’s middle daughter.
Bianca Talbot Aaron & Shirley’s youngest daughter.
Henry Denton Callie’s only son.
Charlotte Denton Callie’s only daughter.
Beverly Callie’s maternal great aunt (Ellie’s paternal aunt)
Wendy Smith Beverly’s Operations Manager for Hull
Louisa Wendy’s Daughter
Griselda & Mia Wendy’s younger twin daughters.
Susan Harvey Prosecution counsel advocating for Erica in court.
Han’s The German policeman’s son whom Erica fancies.
Uncle Phillip CIA Agent.
Emily Jackson. Texan girl Kidnapped to Holland & Turkey
Sandra Jackson Sister to Emily kidnapped in Texas as a hostage.

Chapter 88

Lola was probably the first to wake up amongst the camping girls. As dawn peeped over the rim of the canyon she lay tightly curled in her insulated sleeping bag listening to the single call of a bird she could not identify. Being from Britain she did not expect to. Savouring the silence she curled up tightly again to grab as much comfort from her bag before necessity forced her to.

The peace and quiet was not to last long. Lola rolled over to note amorous sounds emitting from the conjoined sleeping bags of Angie and Olly.

‘Lucky bitches’ she smiled to herself as the double back evidenced signs of activity.

Reluctantly she crawled out of her own bag and stumbled towards the temporary ‘porta-loo’ that the guides had erected for the night then she washed in the river and followed her nose to where the guides had started breakfast. The guide grinned at her as he checked her out. Lola grinned back.

“What ’choo’ got.”

“All American babes, what ’choo want?”

Lola gratefully loaded her plate and took a seat on some logs that had previously been casually spread on the sandy bank. As she ate, the two police officers emerged and joined her; then, within minutes the whole party was gathered. The guide conferred with the police and it was decided the girls were safe to continue on their rafting trip. Their evidence plus the all-important recovered bullets had satisfied the police they had enough to convict the ambushers.

“Will you be staying with us?” Lola asked as the rest of the girls listened all agog.

The female police sergeant glanced around as she sensed the innate nervousness of the holiday party.

“Do you want us to?” She replied then added. “We’re pretty certain there aren’t any more ambushers out there

A silent uncertainty settled on the group until the guide explained.

“The rest of the trip is through narrow canyons and rough rapids. The rangers tell me there are no places where an ambusher can hide undetected and simultaneously get an accurate shot because of the speed of the water.”

“We should have a gun though,” Emily the Texan girl opined. “I’d feel safer with a gun.”

The mutual silence deepened and Emily’s sister Sandra wondered aloud.

“Oh come on. Just the one gun. I’m with my sister on this. One gun, just in case.”

“There speaks the Texan,” Erica remarked softly.

“What d’you mean by that?” Sandra demanded.

“Just that; there speaks the Texan; - shoot first then ask questions.”

“So you’re saying you’d be happy for another sniper to pop out of the rocks and pick us off.”

“You heard the police and the guide. We’ll be travelling too fast for a sniper to get a good shot; - and there’s nowhere a sniper can lay to get a good shot.”

“Take it from a good’ole Texan root’n, toot’n girl, all a sniper needs is somewhere to rest their rifle and somwhere to park their butt. I’ve fired plenty of guns.”

Erica wagged her head and turned away, ‘It seemed there was no getting through to gun-happy Texans,’

“I want nothing more to do with it. Speak to your copper friends.”

The upshot was that the guide reluctantly agreed to accept one rifle supplied from the ranger’s helicopter and it was secured in a robust watertight compartment along with assorted documentation and first-aid equipment.

Lola and Erica exchanged ironic smirks as they read each other’s minds. ‘Bullets and bandages.’ A perfect recipe.

With the arrangements reluctantly agreed upon so that the trip could continue, the vacationers resumed their trip while both police and rangers took off in their choppers with promises to occasionally fly-by to check the most likely spots that a sniper might seek to attack.

These promises served only to worry the girls into thinking Sandra the Texan might be right.

‘Where the police using the girls as bait?’

ooo000ooo

Having experienced the first reputedly modest rapids, the girls needed no prompting to secure their safety harnesses and soon the muffled rumble of the next set of rapids bounced of the narrow canyon walls.

‘A gorge within the gorge,’ Lola thought as the river gathered speed again.

Soon the ‘rumble’ increased to a roar as the girls saw the river drop out of sight. They exchanged fearful looks but the guide’s voice soon reassured them as he barked out instructions as to when and where to paddle. In no time they were poised at the top of the cataract then they plunged furiously into the racing cauldron and everybody was saturated as the raft was flung from steppe to swallow through the insane fury.

As they hurtled downwards, the screams of excitement turned to the silence of raw fear that was only punctuated by the guide’s impossibly calm instructions and warnings in what was seemingly, to the girls, a situation of certain death.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the raft shot out of the narrow gully into a long pool that promised relief. All importantly, as the water calmed, the girls found themselves in control again as the guide explained.

“You can stop here and take lunch or do you want to proceed to the stopover?”

“What’s the rest of the course like?” Lola asked as they bailed out the last of the water.

“That was the worst one. The others are mostly moderate to rough. If we carry on, we’ll reach the overnight by three or thereabouts, and we’ll enjoy an extended stop-over.”

A quick vote decided to continue to the over-night and after a very brief stop for coffee and a pre-prepared sandwich each, the girls pressed on.

True to the guide’s word, the remaining rapids proved exciting but not fearsome and they arrived at the overnight base happy but exhausted.

True to their word, the rangers stopped by and shared the campfire festivities to reassure the girls. Their overnight stay served two purposes of reassuring the girls and perpetuating the park’s reputation as a safe place regarding crime.

The following morning, the police also dropped by and Lola felt forced to ask.

“We’ve got the rangers for protection, why the police thing.”

“Miss Smith, you and your friends are an extremely precious asset to our endeavours. Witnesses of impeccable reputation who are prepared to assist us. Your joint testimonies have worked wonders for our reputation and the cross-border co-operation with Mexico and Guatemala.”

Lola snorted ironically.

“Impeccable reputation? Jeez! Thin red line and all that?”

The police officer frowned uncomprehendingly.

“You’ve lost me missy.”

“It’s play on a famous poem officer.”

“Go on.”

Lola parodied the famous Kipling poem entitled ‘Tommy’ (1)

“It’s Tranny this and Tranny that, and Tranny; out you go!
But it’s ‘perfect bloody witness’ when there’s evidence to show.
It’s Tranny this, and Tranny that; get out you bloody pain!
But it’s perfect bloody witness when there’s traction to be gained!”

“Is that how you see it?” The police sergeant asked.

Lola shrugged. Explanations would have to cross too many boundaries, so she finished by simply adding.

“I’m transgendered and this is Arizona. How do you expect me to see it?”

ooo000ooo

Lola’s words were mostly lost on the police officers but the pilot, having had a military background before joining the Arizona police, nodded sagely. He was still explaining the Kipling poem to the police officers as the chopper lifted off again.

There were no further incidents during the last day of the vacation but when they arrived at the final destination there was a virtual committee waiting to escort them back to Houston. The armoured van rivetted their attention and the police captain explained.

“Our intelligence tells us the risk has heightened. Even though the court case is over, these gangs will make every effort to get their message across to others that it doesn’t pay to go up against them. Are you still prepared to meet the press?”

The girls had a brief meeting and concluded they would, but the Texan sisters Sandra and Emily requested that they be moved to a safe house after the press conference. The police made no promises except to discuss it with their parents after the hearing.

The meeting was put back to the Wednesday then finally the girls were presented to the press amidst much tightened security.

The questions were first directed towards the elements of the kidnapping and sex-trafficking but later the inevitable issues surrounding transgenderism were brought up. It seemed that the transgender aspect was of more interest to some press members than the lawlessness surrounding the sex-trafficking.

At first the police co-ordinator was minded to block the questions, but Lola agreed to answer for herself and very quickly made her personal point that she didn’t see her transgenderism as a newsworthy issue or a moral one.

When she bluntly told them that her condition raised no problems for her back in her home country, she cleverly turned the issue around to make the pressmen who’d raised the issue shuffle uncomfortably in their seats.

One persistent reporter tried to make some moral connection between Lola’s transgenderism and a lifestyle related to the sex industry that invited abuse and kidnapping; but Lola shot him down by explaining that she herself had not been kidnapped but her intimate knowledge of the case and knowing the identities of the gang leaders had dragged her to the gang’s attention.

She finished by pointing out that she was not the criminal; leastways not in Europe. Then she turned the question around by asking the reporter if he felt she should have been murdered by the gang for being transgendered or just being a witness; - or both.

The guilty silence from the press hung heavy in the room and the police chose the moment to finish the meeting. As they emerged from the conference hall the Police captain congratulated Lola.

“I think you sowed a few seeds in their miss.”

“Let’s hope they take root officer. Now where’s the plane for England?”

“Are you really that keen to get away from America?”

“I’m keen not to get shot.”

The murmurs and nods of consensus amongst the girls sobered the Police Captain’s thoughts as she conducted the girls to the armoured van secreted in the police station basement.

ooo000ooo

(1) https://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poem/poems_tommy.htm

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Comments

I'm glad guns aren't so

leeanna19's picture

I'm glad guns aren't so prevalent in the UK. I understand it's almost a cultural thing in the USA. Just in case us nasty Brits tried to invade again.
I heard aguments to ban their sale, but there must be millions of the now. So it would be pointless.

Jim Jeffries did a funny piece on gun control.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rR9IaXH1M0

Clever use of the Kipling poem. The poen refers to Tommy Atkins which was a generic name for a British soldier. Hence being called "Tommies". He wrote it in 1890.

I know it not relavent to your story, One of my favourite anti war songs is 1916 by moterhead.

I heard my friend cry
And he sank to his knees, coughing blood
As he screamed for his mother
And I fell by his side
And that's how he died
Clinging like kids to each other
And I lay in the mud
And the guts and the blood
And I wept as his body grew colder
And I called for my mother
And she never came
Though it wasn't my fault
And I wasn't to blame
The day not half over
And ten thousand slain, and now
There's nobody remembers our names
And that's how it is for a soldier

Brings a tear to my eye when I listen to it.

cs7.jpg
Leeanna

There's Always A Shot

joannebarbarella's picture

The sniper only has to get lucky once. Get those girls back home ASAP.....but even then safety is only relative.