The Amazon

By T. E. Wade

When retired US Marshal Frank Casey stumbles across a criminal sex trafficking operation he is drawn into the fight of his life. Fatally injured, his life fading away, he never dreamt that he would soon wake up as a woman.

Amazon Queen Calliope has one option to save Frank's life, transferring his consciousness into an Amazon body shell. Frank wakes up to find he is not only a woman but an alien hybrid warrior woman, blessed with a yet-to-be-discovered range of skills and abilities.

As quirky young goth, Maddie Whitefeather looks up her heart seems to stop, and time slows down. A vision from the heavens stepped into the bar, causing Maddie to stand up, almost exploding out of her chair. Please let her be into women, she quickly prays as she starts frantically waving and projecting every ounce of her personality across the room. Please notice me, she almost says out loud. Her face lights up as the insanely gorgeous woman smiles, waves back, and heads toward her. Maddie watches, mesmerized, as the tall, strong woman moves towards her in a strange, purposeful manner, her wide hips and shoulder swivel and turn as she weaves through the crowded room, almost predator-like in her movements, eyes downcast but occasionally looking up and smiling in Maddie's direction.

Somehow, Maddie knows that this is the start of something amazing.

Follow old Frank, now a much younger Evie, as she discovers a new life as an alien woman and encounters new friends and challenges, the first of which is to find Lucy, Maddie's missing friend. Their investigation uncovers an international weapons, drugs, and sex trafficking ring enabled by corrupt government agents who are abducting young girls and feeding them into an illicit sex trafficking supply chain reaching around the globe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. E. Wade
• Release date: Dec 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215494271

T. E. Wade

I'm an Australian-based author with a preference for speculative fiction. My ambition is to create stories across multiple genres and so far I have written Sci-fi, Supernatural, and international Crime mysteries. I'm now having a go at an Urban Fantasy story based right here - on the left- round the corner from where I live. Having lived in five different countries, my stories take place across the world, and some even venture out into the galaxy. But they always return, because the really interesting stories are about quirky people getting involved in dangerous situations, right here on good old planet Earth.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE BULLET SLAMS into Frank’s shoulder, pushing him back with enough force to lose his footing. He slides back and stumbles into a small depression behind a rock ledge. Luck is on his side as, seconds later, a barrage of gunfire tears through the undergrowth, in the exact spot he was standing. This is his fourth hit, and the blood loss is making him lose focus.

His mind drifts back to more pleasant times, as he wonders momentarily if this is the end of his life journey.

He left Portland just six weeks ago, as he’d done for every one of the past four years. Come early September, as the night-time temperature dropped, he headed south on his annual migration, along with the birds.

Along the way he encountered everything he loved about the US West. From mountains, through forests and onto desert highways, he meandered South to see old friends and make new ones along the way.

More gunfire shocks him out of his moment of reverie and he quickly returns fire and is rewarded with the sound of a startled cry and a flurry of movement as his attackers fall back, looking for better cover.

He wished for a moment that his old friend Mark Dwyer was here, watching his back as he’d done for over twenty years as his partner in the US Marshall’s service.

He smiled at the thought and teared up slightly as he realized that their last drink together just ten days ago might now be the last he would ever have.

He takes a deep breath and grimaces, toughen up Casey, he thinks to himself, it ain’t over yet. There’s a truckload of innocent young girls over that rise and he isn’t about to let a bunch of sex trafficking scum get away so easily.

He rolls carefully to a new position, rises slightly and lets off two more rounds before rolling back to his original cover. Then his mind drifts again.

Despite having lost Genevieve, his wife and lifelong partner, five years earlier, the retired Marshall was enjoying the twilight years of his retirement. She was brave to the very end, and Frank stood by her as she fought a dreadful cancer that ravaged her once healthy body.

Since then, he dedicated himself to helping the enormous network of friends he’d built up over a highly distinguished career. If anyone was in trouble or just in need of a helping hand, they could rely on old Frank to jump into his camper van and head on over.

This most recent journey took a week longer than normal just because he detoured to help an old friend with a vineyard to run and a broken leg that got in the way of his late harvest grapes. His friend rewarded him with a dozen bottles of last year’s vintage, but another round of gunfire reminded him he may not get to taste them after all.

It all started just under an hour ago as he turned into the last overnight stop of his journey to San Diego, where he planned to settle down for a few months of winter sun. He took the Claw Mountain Forest Park turning and started down the road, which quickly turned to dirt and became narrower and bumpier as he progressed. He rounded a bend and came upon an unusual scene. He’d been to this park twice before and hardly came across more than one or two vehicles, but up ahead he encountered several SUVs, two large cargo trucks and several Harley-Davidson motorcycles parked just a couple of hundred yards away. More ominous still were the two armed men, both of Mexican appearance, heavily tattooed and both holding automatic weapons.

He might be retired and seventy-years-old, but he was still alert, and a man not to be taken lightly. His eyes took in the entire scene in an instant. The men blocked the road, and one held up his hand. Frank stopped just a few feet short of the men, wound down his window and stuck his head out, but with one hand hovering close to his Smith and Wesson 357 revolver.

What seems to be the problem fellas? said Frank.

Turn around and head back pops, said the closest man. Private business up ahead, you don’t want to know.

His accent was a Tex-Mex combo and the tone of his voice was menacing.

Frank held up his hand, and said, Sure thing fella, don’t want no trouble.

He put the van into reverse and started moving back, looking in the rear-view mirror for a turnaround point but occasionally looking forward, further surveying the scene. He turned his van around and headed off, not too quick, not too slow. After a couple of hundred yards, once out of earshot, he found a pull over spot and stopped the van some distance from the road, hidden by trees.

He stepped out and went around to the back of the camper, opened a drawer beneath the rear door and pulled out his always reliable Mossberg 930 automatic shotgun and a few extra shells. He already had the Smith and Wesson tucked into his belt and pocketed a few extra 357 shells, along with a telephoto lens camera.

He headed further into the trees and started back towards the cluster of vehicles, skirting around the spot where he’d been stopped by the two guards.

The reason he was taking such a risk was quite simple in Frank’s mind. He had seen something when they stopped him, just briefly, in the distance, through the trees. What he saw looked like a group of very young girls. These were people traffickers, he felt certain, not just the kind who took people across borders, but the worst kind, those who trafficked young girls for the sex trade. In all his years as a lawman, he despised this type of criminal the most.

Ordinarily, he would call this in to local police, but out here he was well outside of cell reception, so it was just him and the bad guys, and Frank Casey being Frank Casey, he didn’t rate their chances very highly.

Frank initially found a good vantage point and settled down with the camera, using the telephoto lens as a telescope he surveyed the scene and took a few incriminating photos. Just as he thought, they were sex traffickers, an organized crime gang made up of an unusual mix of biker gang and Mexican cartel members. But disappointingly, Frank could see several members of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, known as ICE, working in among the gang.

They were wearing jackets and insignia that identified them as ICE, so presumably they were providing cover for the operation, for whatever price they felt the lives of young girls were worth.

Frank’s blood boiled. He would not let them get away.

The only disappointment in the life of Frank and his late wife, Genevieve, was that they could not have children. A myriad of tests revealed that Genevieve had an untreatable genetic defect. They considered adoption, but with Frank’s job and Genevieve’s charity work, time passed by and they never got around to it. But both Frank and Genevieve put in thousands of hours doing charity work at children’s homes and halfway houses. Frank had seen the result of man’s ability to cause harm to innocent children through callous disregard, greed, lust and other base behaviors. It was this that contributed to Frank’s absolute hatred of people who harmed children.

Frank discarded the camera, made sure he had a full load in the shotgun and headed directly towards the scene fifty yards below.

He hadn’t gone far when he made his first encounter. A pair of cartel members appeared from behind the bushes. They were more surprised to see him than he was them.

The closest one raised his automatic rifle and shouted, Hey.

Frank opened fire, a clean hit. His companion didn’t see the initial contact and was a bit slower, Frank fired a second time, another clean hit, another cartel man down.

Frank moved sideways and forward, staying within cover. There was shouting from over near the vehicles and the sound of men rushing towards the shooting. Frank waited in an intercept position and opened fire as the first two came into view. Two more hits, two more down.

The other men came to a rapid halt and backed away, spraying the surrounding bushes with automatic weapon fire.

Frank lay low, feeding more rounds into his shotgun and waiting for the first barrage to diminish. He moved sideways again, skirting their position, but they deployed more men across a wider area.

Frank stopped, listening, thinking, how many men were there? Perhaps he underestimated the size of the force. Too late to back out now so he crept forward again, next contact, another exchange of fire, this time a biker went down, but Frank took two hits, one in the thigh and one in the shoulder.

He limped away now, making more noise than he would have liked. He could hear men circling around him, so he walked back towards them.

More contact, another exchange of fire. A man screamed as Frank’s shotgun rounds found their mark, but Frank took another hit.

Realizing by now that he was fatally injured and badly outnumbered, he hoped to take out as many as he could, to give the girls a chance of escape. He stumbled across a dead man from an earlier exchange of fire, slung his shotgun and took the man’s automatic weapon. He checked the magazine, it was full, the biker never even got off a shot. He stuffed an extra clip into his pants, then turned back towards the circling men and let rip with full bursts of the automatic weapon.

He emptied the magazine, then replaced it and did the same in left and right directions. He heard men scream in response but received an equivalent amount of return fire. It was at this point he took another hit and took cover in the shallow depression and started his reminiscing.

Calliope watches the scene below through her surveillance monitor. They are close but well hidden, nobody below could see them, even if they looked directly at their position.

Amastris, look at this newcomer, what is he doing? she says.

I don’t know my Queen, he appears to be engaging our adversaries.

Yes, so it seems, does he not realize how badly outnumbered he is?

Perhaps he has superior weapons, Amastris replies.

Calliope examines the scene again. No, he is just a brave but very foolish man. They will slaughter him, she says, concern in her voice.

Frank realizes he is losing blood too quickly, and at this rate he will pass out before long. Time to take the fight to the scumbags, he thinks as he gets to his feet and staggers back towards the central group.

Not bothering to duck, he throws down the spent rifle, unslings his shotgun and stumbles towards the vehicle encampment. He steps out into the clearing, much to the surprise of two ICE agents. Frank opens fire with the shotgun and continues firing until it is empty then pulls out the revolver and shoots anyone who comes into his blurred line of sight.

By now he’s taken several more hits and blood is running down his head and into his eyes, blurring his vision. With strength ebbing he collapses onto his knees then topples over backwards, his life draining away. He didn’t know how many he took out but felt he’d acquitted himself well in what would be the last battle of his life. A shadow appeared over him and he wiped blood from his eyes, peering up at the figure above.

An injured but still surviving ICE agent cannot believe his eyes, and shouts, This fucking old grandpa killed half my men. What the fuck? He points a large automatic weapon at Frank’s head and growls, Say good night grandpa.

Frank smiles, sight dimming, breath shallow, as he mutters, Sayonara scumbag.

He doesn’t even have the strength to tense up for the shot but then, inexplicably, a vision from what must have been a dying hallucination.

A tall, strong and remarkable looking, flame haired woman appears behind the ICE agent and swings an enormous sword, taking the agent's head clean off. Frank even feels the head land on his feet, just as he descends into darkness.

Calliope watches the gun battle unfold with a sense of admiration and awe. This clearly mortal old man is single-handedly taking on an army of twenty heavily armed thugs and decimates more than half of their number. If there were two like him, they would have won. She has never seen such skill and courage from a man, never in all her many years.

She brings forward their assault, uncloaking the ship, it drops to ten feet above the ground allowing them to leap down from the now open door ramp.

She leads a team of four, all armored and all wielding swords. They move quickly through the remaining gang and in less than a minute they decimate the criminals, either through decapitation, impalement and in one case slicing an assailant clean in two.

Calliope herself decapitated the agent standing over Frank and impaled the brute standing with him.

Her remaining group round up the girls locked in one of the trucks in appalling conditions. Their chains are removed, and they are quickly ushered into the ship where they will be treated and taken to safety.

Calliope leans over Frank, feeling for a pulse. It is there, but very faint.

Medic! she shouts at the top of her voice. Neck collar, now!

Within seconds, one of her warriors arrive and hand her a circular device.

Calliope wraps it around Frank’s neck, adjusts the controls, and presses an activation button. Needles emerge and carefully make their way into Frank’s neck, connecting into the jugular veins and carotid arteries and creating a bonded seal.

Calliope opens a funnel at the top, removes a sharp-looking dagger from her belt and stabs it into her wrist. Blood oozes out, and she positions it to drain into the funnel.

The Medic gasps, My Queen, your own blood.

Just blood, Helene, just blood.

The Medic hands her a wrap to seal her wrist, and then Calliope closes the funnel and activates the primer. She watches and waits until eventually the collar signals that it is active.

Ready with the head bag? asks Calliope.

Yes, my Queen.

Calliope presses another button, which is followed by a shudder and a click.

Frank’s head falls away from his body into Calliope’s waiting hands. She lifts it carefully and places it into the bag.

Back to the ship, time to go, Calliope shouts, and waves her hand. They head back into the ship, the doors close, and the ship lifts and fades into its invisibility cloak, now unseen, even to someone nearby.

CHAPTER TWO

FRANK LOOKS UP at the woman addressing him. Her lips move, but he hears no sound. She gestures to someone out of sight, and the sound of her voice suddenly registers. It is the flame haired woman from his last remembered vision.

Can you hear me now? The voice is soft and filled with static. 

He tries to nod, but nothing happens. Ye… uh, ye.., is all that comes out, faintly, his voice high pitched and broken.

I’m going to lift you into a vertical position. She gestures to the unseen person.

His bed tilts up slowly until he is in a standing position but still somehow attached to the bed, unable to move any part of his body.

Activate sensory. 

He feels something strange ripple through his body.

Activate motion.

Something else happens and he can feel more.

Okay Frank, we don’t have much time, so listen carefully.

He nods, feels motion this time, looks around, and sees other women in his periphery. They were all tall, strong, attractive, serious, unsmiling, and culturally diverse. The woman doing all the talking has pale skin and flaming red hair while the others cover the spectrum from dark hair and skin tones, some with oriental features and others appearing Slavic, high cheekbones and blond hair. 

The woman speaks again, quickly, a narrative, not waiting for his response between sentences. 

I am Calliope, commander of this tribe. You nearly died. Very heroic, what you did, also a little stupid, but well done. The girls are safe and thanks to you our job was easier. We don’t normally do this, but events have changed. We saved you, but you are different now. It will be a shock.

She gestures again to the side and his now vertical table rotates around towards a large flat panel. An image in the panel comes into view. It is an image of a woman, tall, attractive, blond hair, strong, similar to the other women who stood on each side of the panel.

What do you think? says Calliope.

He tries to speak now, voice faltering at first but eventually the words come out, his voice higher pitched and strange, She’s beautiful.

Calliope smiles. No Frank, you are beautiful.

He frowns, as does the woman in the flat panel.

This is a mirror Frank, this is you.

No, it… He shakes his head, as does the woman in the image.

He lifts his hand, and her hand lifts. He holds up the hand, examining it, turning it this way and that.

How, uh, wha… what have you done? his voice incredulous.

Your body was destroyed Frank. Twenty-four bullet wounds, to be precise. So, we transferred what remained of you into one of our body shells.

A voice came from behind, addressing Calliope. One-hour my Queen.

Calliope nods, and says, Sorry Frank, no time to ease you in to this. We have to leave in one hour and that means leaving you as well prepared as we can so listen carefully as I explain.

She went into narrative mode again, talking quickly without interruption.

We are the Amazon. Yes, you have heard mythological stories about us, some based in fact but most incorrect.

We are what you would call aliens. We were once human, from here, this planet, but no longer. Our group has some responsibility for this planet, and we had returned to start shaping a better destiny for your people, who have once again lost their way. She emphasizes the word ‘had.’

She pauses briefly, then continues, In our absence an unexpected catastrophe has happened, and we have no sooner arrived than we must return. But you will remain. This turn of events, this encounter with you is fortuitous. You have a psychological make up well suited to our needs. We have helped you and you can now help us and your own people.

She looks at him and raises her eyebrows. Understand?

He nods.

She continues. You are now one of us, an Amazon, which means you are no longer human. You are now stronger, will not get old or sick but, very importantly, she raises her finger at this point. You are not immortal. You can be killed, although not easily.

Frank speaks his first full length sentence since awakening, So, you are leaving me behind, here, as a woman?

Yes Frank, as a woman. She smiles again and laughs lightly. So terrible to be a woman, Frank?

He stammers, I just won’t know how to… He doesn’t really know what to say.

More importantly Frank, you are no longer a human. Perhaps more pertinent than being a woman, yes?

She becomes serious once more, back to narrative mode. Listen now, we have very little time. For answers to all of your questions about your makeup, our history, factual information, look in the vault. For help about events around you, ask the artificial assistant on your vessel.

He frowns, confused, but Calliope continues, The vault is in your head, you can open it with the codes represented by these symbols. 

She holds up two round discs, each containing complex hieroglyphic styled symbols. 

Concentrate Frank, remembers these symbols. After a few seconds she puts them to one side.

Frank complained, How can I remember those after a brief glance?

Concentrate on them Frank, your brain works differently now. What do you recall?

To his surprise, he recalls the images with clarity.

Now open the vault, says Calliope.

He does and discovers a vast library of information at his fingertips, or more correctly, at his easy mental recall.

There, you see, welcome to the vault. She smiles again, pleased at his progress. 

Now, we must stop calling you Frank. You are a woman now. She takes his hands and helps him step off the now vertical platform. Your new name is Genevieve Casey, Evie to your friends.

His eyebrows lift in surprise. My late wife’s name.

Yes Fra… uh, Genevieve. We thought it would be easier to relate and as part of your new back story you are the daughter of the now late Frank Casey.

Frank, now Genevieve frowns. But we never had kids, everyone who knows me will know that.

Calliope has an answer for everything, You remember Katya Kuznetsova, your lover while on a witness protection operation in Chicago?

Uh, yes, the Gymnastics coach who defected in late 89 when the Berlin wall opened up. But we never…

We know you didn’t, but in this version, you did, and your liaison produced the beautiful Genevieve.

Frank, now Genevieve and now his own daughter feels his, or really her, head starting to spin.

Calliope laughs again, seeming to enjoy the revelations of the newly invented daughter Frank never knew he had. She walks the newly christened Genevieve towards a doorway, holding her hand to steady her still tentative walk. 

The doorway leads into a long rectangular room, fitted with seats, tables and all kinds of enclosures and equipment.

This is your vessel Genevieve, everything you need is in here. Time to meet your artificial assistant.

She moves across to a control centre and makes a few gestures. Activate, she says.

A male voice speaks, Control activated, listening.

Calliope turns and smiles. Genevieve, meet your assistant, Frank.

Pleased to meet you Genevieve, the male voice says, in a gentle but formal voice.

Genevieve looks around, startled. What the heck.

Calliope now laughs out loud. Yes Genevieve, your assistant is Frank and yes, that is your old voice.

And my voice is…?

As close as we could discern from your memories, it is the voice of your late wife. We thought it might be easier for you.

Forty-five minutes, my Queen, the voice from earlier calls out.

Calliope claps her hands lightly. Yes, time is tight. A quick tour of the vessel.

She walks Genevieve around, explaining controls, symbols, safety features.

The vessel will be your home for a while. It will take you back to the surface and then alter its shape to become a large recreational styled vehicle, a motorhome I believe you call them. It can self-control or you can drive it. To outsiders, it will seem to be a motorhome, even to an experienced observer.

She pauses to let the information sink in, then continues, More information, quickly now. Time is short. You will be stronger, quicker, smarter than humans, so you must be careful, do not stand out. They will not take kindly to you being superior. You cannot let humans examine you and must not take part in activities where you are superior, so no competitive sports, no exhibitions of strength or expertise, do not come across as a threat.

Genevieve nods, listening intently. Her training from old Frank’s previous life has taught her when to speak and when to listen, and this is a time for concentrating and listening.

Calliope continues, You are to prepare the way for our eventual return. Carefully, gently. Do not rush, make friends, build a network, right wrongs when you find them, but try not to attract attention. If you get noticed, move on. Do not let them know the real you.

Genevieve asks her first question. If I am to build a network and make friends, they may notice things about me. Can I reveal myself to close friends?

You will know who you can trust, it is part of your instinct.

So only those I know well? Less a question, more a statement of agreement.

Yes. Now, time to leave. We have a travel alignment that we cannot miss. Her tone is now more hurried.

Calliope walks back through to the main room and starts barking orders in a sharp, clipped language that Genevieve cannot understand. They were speaking English for her benefit only.

Okay Genevieve, time to strap in and leave. All the information you need is in the vault, or ask Frank.

She makes sure that Genevieve is strapped into what seems like a control centre seat, almost like a captain’s chair. 

Am I going to fly this thing? There is sudden panic in her voice.

Calliope shakes her head. Most definitely not. That is Frank’s job.

She leaves Genevieve and goes back to the door, barks a few more commands back to her team and turns one last time to Genevieve. Good luck down there, Genevieve. Remember, you are an Amazon now so be careful how you use your new skills until you know more about yourself. Farewell.

With that Calliope slams the door shut and within a few seconds Evie feels the motion of the vessel breaking off from what must be a mother ship.

The motion increases quickly and soon she feels shuddering as the vessel hits the first part of the Earth’s atmosphere.

Seconds later the whole vessel starts shaking furiously, and she feels a few moments of intense fear thinking something is going wrong.

Frank! she calls out at the top of her voice.

Frank responds immediately. All is normal Genevieve, the atmospheric disturbance will be over soon.

What if we are seen Frank?

We are fully cloaked, nothing on this planet can detect us. Frank’s voice is calm and reassuring, just as the old Frank’s voice would have been if he’d been in charge and assuring a new rookie.

Genevieve smiles to herself briefly, realizing that she is the rookie now, in a role beyond her wildest expectations.

The vessel settles quietly into a small woodland clearing. They are just a few miles from the location of old Frank’s recent demise.

Genevieve exhales with a large sigh of relief. I’m sure you had that under control Frank, but damn! That was terrifying.

Yes Genevieve, you seemed tense, but I assure you, it was all under control.

So, tell me Frank, what exactly are you?

Well Genevieve, can I call you Evie? I’m sure we will be friends.

Sure Frank, whatever.

I am what people on your world would call an AI. That is, an Artificial Intelligence. But I can assure you, my intelligence is anything but artificial.

Evie frowns. So, you’re like a Siri or Alexa, right?

Frank actually laughs as he replies. I am what Siri or Alexa will be like after another five thousand years of evolution, so yes, close enough.

Evie unstraps herself and stands up carefully, taking a