Butting Heads

The truck and trailer rig bucked on the muddy road. Cammie bounced in her seat and bumped her head on the wall of the trailer.

"Good Lord, Wes, watch it!" she yelled to the driver, who was beyond the tiny window into the truck cab.

She searched a third time for the seat belt in the cushions, but she once again failed to unearth it.

"He always drives like this," Kitty informed her from across the trailer. She was watching the weather data streaming in on the computer equipment; her headset linked her directly with Weather Channel, who was riding with George and Bulldozer in a truck ahead of the trailer.

"And I thought Bulldozer was bad..." Cammie muttered, glancing over to make sure The Bag with The Egg inside was still anchored firmly. At first, The Egg had projected various feelings of alarm to Cammie, but she made it clear there was nothing she could do and that he would have to ride it out. Since then, The Egg had quieted down, although the ride was still as bumpy as ever.

"Take a left at that barn," she heard Beethoven say to Bulldozer across the CB. She leaned up to the window to look through the cab and out the windshield. It was raining, and the sky was dark, but the weather didn't look especially bad.

"Do we have a chance to make it?" Cammie asked Kitty as she sat back down to avoid being thrown around as Wes made the turn.

Kitty glanced at the truck cab. "He's trying like hell, but I don't know. The action might dissipate before we get there."

Cammie simply nodded. That's the way it was most of the time. They had been driving for about two hours, chasing a line of thunderstorms across the flat Indiana terrain. There had been reports of strong winds and hail but nothing definitive in their area. There was, however, a severe system farther east. The crew was trying to get in front of it and sit in the path of the action, but that was a lot harder than it sounded.

"We shall see..." Cammie murmured.

They missed the storm in Ohio. It had weakened before they hit it, and although some rotation was reported and a watch issued, no tornadoes were spotted. It was after dark when they pulled into a plaza on the highway and gathered in the trailer for a meeting.

"All right, troops," George began. "We've got to make a decision here. There are several other storms throughout the Midwest. This one's spent, not to mention that it's moving out of our territory and out to the East Coast. So, do we head back to Indiana and Illinois, or do we pick up the long haul and head south? Weather Channel, what's your take?"

"Well, we've got some great activity in both areas, but I'd say our best chance is out in the Bread Basket. Illinois can have a lot of tornadoes, but it's hell to try to chase them. At least out West we've got open country to run on." Weather Channel answered.

"Okay, that's one vote for southward and westward. The only problem is that if we head that way, we're going to be butting heads with two other teams, one of them Kurt Dougan's."

Kurt Dougan was one of the most heavily funded people in the field. This fostered some resentment in the stormchaser circle, as well as made him a real ass to deal with. Cammie felt her lips twist in a superior smirk. Bulldozer caught it and chuckled.

"Wes and I can take 'em," he said, elbowing the younger man. "Just point us to the tornadoes, and we'll get there, Dougan or not."

"Here, here," seconded Beethoven.

"Anyone else?" George asked. "Anyone got a preference for the northern states?"

"I don't know about you, George, but I'm always up for a good head-butting contest," Cammie responded.

"Yeah, Army, your military training should come in handy there..." Lupe teased.

Cammie just grinned. She didn't really have any military training; she had never been in the Army. The guys liked to joke about it though, and she didn't mind.

"All right, so we're decided," George reiterated, looking around for any last-minute objections. There were none. "Okay, we'll put up for a few hours in the parking lot and then get going, unless any of you have relatives in Ohio..."

No one did, so Bulldozer retired to the truck, Wes bedded down in the trailer cab, and the remaining six team members stretched out at various locations throughout the trailer. Cammie and Kitty shared a section. As Cammie rearranged The Bag so it wouldn't get stepped on by an unwary team member, Kitty spoke up.

"So, you were in the army?" she asked. Cammie chuckled.

"No, that's just my nickname," she explained. When Kitty gave her an inquiring stare, she continued. "I come from a military family. My dad was in the Marines, and his father before him was Navy. My short name, Cammie, is a nick my dad gave me... a pet form of 'camouflage'. My mom hated it... said it wasn't ladylike. She wanted to call me 'Millie'. Anyway, when I first joined, I used to call George 'sir' and 'captain'... all that military family training, I guess. So, when the guys got wind of my family history, they started calling me 'Army'."

"Oh, okay," Kitty said. "I thought they were joking, but I couldn't figure out why they were calling you 'Army', so I thought I would ask."

"Is Kitty short for Katherine?" Cammie asked her, trying to arrange one of the sleeping bags over the seats to make a bed.

"Well, everyone else calls me Cathy, but over the last few months, it's gone from Cathy, to Cat, to Kitty... I think in another few, it will get to be Kit, and then just K."

Cammie smiled at the woman. "So, what are you in for?"

"I work in network maintenance for the National Weather Service. I believe my official job title now is 'Field Researcher', which basically entails checking out ways to improve storm sighting communications. Despite all our technology, the only reliable tornado warning system is still visual reports, so we have to make sure that word travels fast."

Cammie laughs. "Better than me... when I first joined, I was just a bum Masters graduate. Never really bothered to look into a real job until my loans started calling for payments. Now I work for FEMA. Right now, I'm on two weeks paid leave."

"Do you miss it? The stormchasing, that is."

"Every day," Cammie responded truthfully. "You would think that Disaster Management would be more rewarding, but mostly it's just tiring and heartbreaking. None of the thrill, and I know that I'm helping people, but I can't help but wish I was back here."

"How'd you get paid leave to do this?" Kitty asked, settling down on her own sleeping bag.

"Actually, I had a run-in with a tornado down in Mississippi. They sent me home to recover, but I'm not one for idleness."

"Is that why you came back to the team? Facing your demons?"

"Ha, no, like I told George, I'm a woman on a mission. Besides, I like to think of the tornadoes as old friends."

They lapsed into silence. Cammie heard Beethoven and George murmuring over the maps on the other end of the trailer, but Lupe was already curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor, half under one of the side tables, and Weather Channel had bedded down near the computer system. Kitty had arranged her sleeping bag on the other row of seats, across the way from Cammie. Eventually, Beethoven and George put away the maps and shut off the last light. Cammie, Kitty, and Lupe would have the most sleep time. Wes, Bulldozer, and George would have to be up in a few hours to start driving. Beethoven would probably be up to help navigate, and Weather Channel would want to be up to keep tabs on their storm systems. Cammie suddenly felt very much at home again.

I should look into changing professions, she thought, get back to my roots. But then, she remembered that after The Egg hatched, and their mission was completed, she would have to head back to the Temple of Dea. Hiding an egg in a bag was one thing, but hiding a fully-grown Clarus would be another matter entirely. I wonder if there are stormchasers where the Temple is...

Cammie waited until Kitty seemed to be sleeping before scooting forward to peer over the edge of the seat at The Bag with The Egg inside it.

All right? she asked The Egg.

*Marble,* he replied quietly in her mind, making her look around. Sure enough, there was a glowing, greenish marble under the seat.

Well, how do you like that? Cammie asked, picking it up and staring at its soft, minty glow before putting it into her jacket pocket with the others. Say, how many more of these are there?

But The Egg didn't answer. Instead, she suddenly got an odd feeling... as though he were drawing very close to her... actually part of her, able to see all her thoughts, her dreams, her inner secrets. It was an intense feeling when compared to the simple thoughts they had been exchanging, and she panicked and sat up quickly. Her mind flailed away, trying to escape the invasion, and he withdrew quickly, leaving an odd, empty space inside her. Kitty stirred and looked up at Cammie sleepily.

"Something wrong?" she asked in concern.

"Uh, no, I just remembered something I had to do... oh well, nothing I can do about it tonight," Cammie told her, hiding her jitters.

Kitty rolled over and went back to sleep. Cammie lay back down. Cautiously, she tried to send a thought to The Egg.

Sorry about that... but that was a bit scary... maybe you should warn me next time you are going to do that, she told him. He didn't respond.

Hey, I said I was sorry... but it's not like I have people rummaging around in my head all the time... or ever. If there's something you want to know, just ask me next time.

The Egg remained silent.

... You're all right, right? she worried. I didn't hurt you, did I?

She had a sense of The Egg turning away from her and ignoring her. Well, at least he is all right, she told herself, but she felt that she had made a grave error of some sort. She glanced at Kitty to make sure the other woman was still turned away, then slipped a hand down to The Bag, where she slid it under the flap to rest on The Egg.

Listen, if it means that much to you, you can look. You just startled me, that's all. She tried to apologise.

She got a non-verbal response... that is, if telepathy can be considered 'verbal'. The Egg exuded a feeling that he accepted her apology, but that he would rather not have anything to do with her for now. It was tinged with sadness.

I'm sorry, she repeated. She turned her head to rest it down on the seat, but she left her hand on The Egg, as extra reassurance. And I'm sorry again for that dumpster thing too... she added more quietly, wondering if The Egg still held that against her. She didn't want to get rid of The Egg. It was strange, and unreal, and just a bit frightening... but it was hers to take care of, her responsibility... her baby dragon. She would just have to try harder. She was just scared... scared that this wasn't real, scared that is was real, scared of what might happen, scared that she might screw it up. I was just scared, that's all. Next time, warn me first.

The Egg didn't respond, and she thought that maybe he had fallen asleep.

Sighing and still feeling empty and uneasy, she closed her eyes and tried to think of something pleasant to relax herself. The summer County Fair back home and fried dough sprang to mind, so she imagined she was walking the fair with her father, eating bite-sized pieces of fried dough and looking at the livestock. The bright sun shone down on her, making her feel warm but not hot. She conveniently left out the sticky humidity, since this was, after all, her dream. She added in other fair-goers... mostly happy families with cheerful, toe-headed children clutching cotton candy, balloons, and giant stuffed animals. As her mind drifted further into the blurry realm of the subconscious, another companion joined her, a bright little globe, that, at times, seemed to take on serpentine qualities as it swam through the air near her head and peered at the strange cows and chickens over her shoulders.