Jean Anne in Mexico
The blast wave from the detonation knocked Jean Anne to the ground where she was fortunate to fall on one of the less fortunate. Instinctively she fought to protect her eveningwear and scrambling under a buffet table she found shelter from the Vesuvian downpour of fire and ash. Once the maelstrom died, she dragged herself to her feet attempting to ascertain what had happened and why a Guadalajaran birthday party had suddenly been transformed into a reenactment of The Last Days of Pompeii. Boys and girls were stumbling around her in dazed confusion. Adults entered the scene shouting orders and administering to the wounded. The Danites, guns drawn, rushed into the fray. It was then she saw him, looked straight into the eyes of the devil himself.
There was no reason for his being here, but seeing him she knew he was the source of the evil that had been loosed upon the party. Thinking about it she realized she had known it was he from the sound of his voice over the loud speakers. If she had paid more conscious attention to the situation, she would have recognized the danger he represented and screamed at her friends to shut their minds to his vocal enticements, to attack him, kill him on the spot and save the world from his pestilence. But she had reacted too late, not listening to her training. She had been more involved in talking fashion with her new acquaintances and flirting with the cute German boy. Her father would not be pleased.
Daddy would have to be told, of course. He was expecting a full report on the progress of conversions and collections at the new temple. There were quotas to meet, tithing to account; so, the purpose for her being here was more than merely attending a birthday party. She was daddy’s official representative, her first assignment for both the bank and the inner sanctum.
Few females qualified for the Danite training. A stained-glass ceiling barred them from official Church ranks, only allowing rare servitude in unusual capacities; but the daughter of Jed Compton rated special status. She was not merely breeding stock. For centuries women had been repressed in the Church. The carriers of original sin were for procreation and little more. But things were changing in the 60’s. Just recently archeological discoveries in ancient Aramaic documents revealed the Holy Spirit resided on the X chromosome not the Y. Mary Magdalene had been Jesus primary sponsor and as some speculated, his main squeeze. It was to Mary he first appeared after his resurrection. She he charged with the continuance of his movement. The first pope had been female, which perhaps explains the long skirts and the fondness for hats, jewelry, and altar boys still displayed by some segments of the Church. Unlike Catholics, Mormons could adapt with the times. And the times they were a changing…
Without a male child to carry on his dynasty Jed Compton had been forced to push the feminine agenda through the Elder Council and had gotten his only progeny the opportunity to train as a Danite undercover agent. Jean Anne was extremely talented under the covers and quickly rose to the head of her graduating class, although she was prevented from taking the Danite oath because of her sex. Jed also planned for his daughter to have an Ivy League education, follow in his footsteps as a member of the Skull and Bones, and someday take his place at the head of his financial empire. This conflicted somewhat with Jean Anne’s goal of humping the entire varsity football team, landing a rich Ivy League husband and possible adopting a child or two to satisfy the “go forth and multiply” requirements imposed on her by her religion without placing undo stress on her vagina or wardrobe. But as they say about a will; Jed’s legacy provided ample monetary incentives for Jean Anne to compromise her ways and acquiesce to her father’s hopes and dreams; about one hundred and ten million reasons according to the accountants. Such is the stuff hopes and dreams are built on.
Shrapnel from the exploding building had inflicted more than a few serious wounds. Teenagers lay about the lawn like toy soldiers on the losing side of a mock battle. The first adults on the scene were engaged in triage-like assessments of the injured and since Jean Anne’s physical condition did not warrant immediate medical attention she was shuttled aside. She tried to scream in protest but found the dust from the vaporized adobe dwelling choked her voice. Her manic gyrations pointing out the demon in their midst were attributed to post traumatic stress disorder, a minor brain embolism, or possibly demonic possession and a caring Mormon matron quickly wrapped an alpaca wool blanket about Jean Anne’s petite frame to prevent her from causing injury to herself, or others, while awaiting psychological evaluation or exorcism. Then the young lady was carefully stacked under the portico away from the carnage with the other non-oozing wounded.
Jean Anne was not one to take such things lying down. Wriggling across the debris strewn patio like the proverbial snake in the garden she managed to reach the swimming pool and lapped down enough chlorinated water, her father had warned her about drinking the tap water, to liquefy the dust imprisoning her vocal cords. “Him,” she screamed, head dangling in the swirling waters of the shallow end of the pool, “stop him. Don’t let him get away.” But her voice was drowned out by the scream of sirens as the fire trucks and paramedics began arriving. By the time a courteous young EMT with oxygen and morphine unwrapped her, the demon had vanished into the shadows of the night.
The Phoenix Times
October 19, 1970
Explosion Rocks Birthday Party
Winning the War
American commanders report that extensive use of the defoliant Agent Orange actually improves the quality of farmland in sprayed areas. "We are seeing a marked increase in the amount of sunlight at ground level," reports Lt. General Sam Grover in charge of area reclamation. "Tobacco should do well here."