Back on Active Duty

In the morning, things felt better. Cammie kept her eyes closed and stretched out for a bit before rolling over and looking at The Egg. She wondered if he was awake yet. Deciding against picking him up and finding out, she rolled to the other side and out of the bed, wandering toward the shower.

After she had woken up completely and washed her hair, Cammie felt even better. She abandoned the shower and dried off, then got dressed in some comfortable clothes. After rustling up a bowl of corn flakes in the kitchen, she returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

Good morning, she called to The Egg.

*Morning,* The Egg answered very clearly. Cammie was so surprised she stopped chewing for a moment, staring at him.

He must be getting stronger, she thought to herself, or, at least, bolder. She repositioned herself to be more comfortable, then began eating again.

Okay, Egg, it's tomorrow and we need to talk. First, about this mission—

*No, name,* The Egg countered. Cammie sighed.

All right, a name... she thought. What name? Let's see...

Cammie raked her brain for a name, but she came up empty.

This is silly, she told The Egg. It is hard for me to give you a proper name when I don't know what you look like. How about we wait until you hatch?

*Fine,* The Egg answered.

Now, the mission, Cammie prompted. What is it?

The Egg seemed to think for a few moments. *Marbles,* it finally said.

Although it seemed like a nonsequitur, Cammie immediately knew what he meant. The glowing marbles I've been finding? she asked.

*Yes.*

What are they? What are we supposed to do with them?

*Find them.*

Find them? Why? Where?

*Are lost... are... * The Egg paused; he seemed to be searching for the right words. *Stormtossed,* he concluded.

Storm tossed? You mean a storm tossed them? The tornado?

*Many tornado. Many marbles. Must find them.*

So, we find all these marbles, and then we can return to the Temple, right?

*Right.*

But how do we find them? So far they've just been appearing places.

The Egg paused again, unsure how to explain. Finally, he said, *Marbles lost. We find them. We get close; they come.*

So you are saying if we get close to where they are, they will just come to us? Cammie asked, finding this all incredibly odd.

*Yes.*

Remembering the history of Clarus Dragons, Cammie had a sudden suspicion. Come to us? she asked. Or come to you?

The Egg fell silent.

I thought so, Cammie told him. You're the reason the marbles keep appearing around me. You're calling them.

*No,* The Egg said, and Cammie had the feeling he was telling the truth. She tried a different theory.

But if you weren't here, the marbles wouldn't appear, correct?

*Yes.*

She nodded to herself, putting aside the soggy remains of her corn flakes. Clarus Dragons had some inherent magic. Although they couldn't control it until they were adults, the magic was there, untapped. In this case, The Egg might unintentionally be attracting these magic, glowing marbles. A sudden thought occurred to her: The first marble had appeared in her pocket before she received The Egg.

Did you know I was coming to adopt you? she asked him.

*Yes,* he responded, obviously not seeing anything odd about that.

Well, I didn't, she told him, but I think I am glad that I did. When should we start searching for these marbles? And where?

*Soon. In the storms. They are stormtossed.*

Cammie broke into a grin despite herself. It looks like my career as a stormchaser isn't over quite yet. I have two weeks before I am due back at work. We better get started soon.

After washing up her dishes and unpacking, Cammie sat down in front of her computer and began reviewing the weather systems across the country. They were in luck; storms were still raging across the Midwest, and there were several thunderstorms that were rated as severe. Some of them would be sure to spawn tornadoes. She looked at the areas, trying to figure out which groups might be chasing the storms. Finally, she decided to call George Buchard.

Cammie had rode with George for about seven months during her first year stormchasing. She remembered him for being a bit crazy but intelligent. His team was devoted to catching storm footage and plotting the traits that led to tornado formation. She was sure he would give her and The Egg a ride... although, for his own safety, she would keep The Egg hidden. She picked up the phone and dialed George's cell.

Four hours later, after a load of laundry, repacking, and catching a bus to the airport, Cammie and The Egg were once again headed into the air. They caught the 3:45 flight to Chicago, where she got a ride from a friend out to southern Illinois. From there, she met Charles, one of George's team members, who was simply nicknamed "Weather Channel". They drove out to meet the team, which was hanging out in the parking lot of an Indiana diner. Cammie waved and went over to shake hands with George.

"George, great to see you," Cammie said. He looked exactly like she remembered him—stout, bearded, glasses crooked, with his frizzy hair cut close to his head.

"Hey, Army," George returned, shaking her hand enthusiastically before releasing it. "I was surprised as heck when I got your call. Great to have you back on active duty. You going to tell me what your 'mission' is?"

"Maybe later," Cammie demurred. "How about you introduce me to everyone first?" Some of the faces were familiar, but there were new ones as well gathered around the collapsible table.

"Well, you know Weather Channel," George said. "This is Beethoven, also known as Kevin Garner in some circles." He motioned to a dark-haired, light-eyed man with a narrow face who appeared somewhere in his forties.

"Nice to meet you," Beethoven said as he shook Cammie's hand. "I ride with Wes and Kitty." He pointed to a young man in his twenties with brown hair and brown eyes and a slightly older woman with her lighter brown hair tied back into a messy ponytail. They both shook Cammie's hand in turn.

"And, of course, you remember Bulldozer and Lupe," George finished, pointing out the two familiar faces. Bulldozer was George's driver and buddy. He was stocky and always wore a worn Cubs cap. Lupe was another friend of George's who graduated in the same class. He was lean and wild looking, with hair down to his shoulders and a goatee. He acted as cameraman most of the time.

"Hey, guys," Cammie said with a grin, leaning over the table to shake with them. "Long time no see."

"Just had to come back for more, eh, Army?" Lupe asked, flashing a smile. "I'm sorry to say that Bulldozer's driving hasn't improved during your absence, and Wes here is cut from the same block of wood."

Cammie laughed and looked at Bulldozer for his rebuttal.

"Well, Lupe, at least I always know where my keys to the truck are, unlike some people who couldn't find their gear if their life depended on it."

Cammie chortled with the rest of the crew. Bulldozer was referring to an infamous incident where Lupe had bitched for a day straight about losing his film, only to discover it in his vest pocket.

"All right, troops. Let's finish up here. Weather Channel, get on the horn and figure out where we're headed next," George commanded.

"Aye aye, cap'n," Weather Channel quipped and headed to the trailer.

"Army, you'll ride with Beethoven and crew today," George said before following Weather Channel.

"Aww, tough break, Army," Lupe teased, "running at the rear."

"That's 'bringing up the rear', Wolfman, and unless you want to end up in a swamp, I suggest you lay off my crew," Beethoven threated while laughing.

"You wouldn't do that to me, old buddy, would ya?" Bulldozer asked him. Beethoven smiled but still glared at Lupe mockingly. Cammie guessed that Beethoven must be the new navigator. Back when she had been with them, the navigator had been a graduate student nicknamed Tube.

"If you're going to eat, you better do it quick. I hear we're in for a wild night," Lupe suggested, changing the subject.

"I hear ya," Cammie said, and she moved off toward the diner for some supper.

I'll have to tell George about the marbles, she mused. As for The Egg, I think he'll stay under wraps, so to speak. Best to only introduce one crazy notion at a time. I'll talk to George later.

It would be tomorrow morning before she got a chance to speak with George. Weather Channel was yelling and waving before she had stood at the counter for a minute, and she was forced to bolt out of the diner with a bottle of Coke and a medium-rare burger with fries. It was going to be a crazy night.