The Curious Case Of The Boy In A Dress.

(From Above)

"Atoms and electrons, suns and planets. The String Theory and how everything is connected...
My Father once talked about such stuff" she said and as mid-day called dimly on that ogre-of
-a-clock, I looked at the young woman with thoughts far-removed from our current topic.

I struggled to rid myself of the feelings for Helen, sitting there with her beautiful eyes and
prim 'Librarian' attire, I was falling in love and I couldn't help myself.

Della paused my romantic musings with her next words and I urged my cheeks not to
betray my thoughts as she spoke.
"You're a smart girl..." she said and glanced at me "...and I know your Father was very proud
of you. Yes, there's a pattern, a force that follows a certain plan" she whispered and winked
at Helen's understanding gaze.

"Boy In A Dress holds the power to manipulate that plan and force, he did things that for
mainstream thinking -it would be seen as magic" she imparted and searched our faces
once more.

"Well kids, it was nice talking to you but I've got to get to the market before one o'clock
and my Lottery win waits for nobody" she said with a smile and with a grunt of exertion
from rising, she shuffled off towards the kitchen.

I gathered my things and slipping my camera from my pocket, I snapped off two shots
of the photographs on the coffee table, the second image we had never talked about.
"Feel free to take copies of the pictures" Della called from the kitchen and I showed a
look of an embarrassed thief towards Helen. I was awarded with a knowing smile that
made my heart lurch and my cheeks release it's cache of blood.

Della reappeared in a coat that would have been fashionable in the seventies and a
canvas bag that proclaimed 'Mary Jane' was a healthy herb, the whole ensemble said
volumes of a girl-in-a-man's-world with a temper and drive.
Della Sumner -in formation.

As the little old woman stepped carefully from her little house in Gambling State of the
most-powerful country on the planet, I had one more question for the scientist locking
her front door. Helen had moved off to the car and we were alone.

"You said 'BIAD holds a power...' you spoke in a present tense, I thought they killed Boy
In A Dress?" I said with a light tone that I hoped would imply I wasn't pushing for an answer,
I didn't want Della to 'clam-up' at this point.

The mid-day sun pooled our shadows beneath us on that small step as she looked at me
through those small glasses. "I heard that too, but they were wrong... you can't kill him"
she said with a whisper that also told me of her temper.
Della's garden was struggling to produce any plants and I guessed the gnarled tree near the
window sucked most of the moisture that lay in the desert soil, my mind raced as I peered
at the meagre scenery.
"The second photo... the one with BIAD jumping out of an aeroplane..." Della said sofly
"...He's not wearing a parachute and he wasn't jumping" Her wise-eyes hid wounds of a
past that Helen and myself had just ridden rough-shod over.
"He was pushed" she snarled and dropped her keys into her dope-happy bag.

"Anyway, Charles got him out before they got a chance and that dumb-assed Ramey must
be fuming in whatever hell is put aside for bastards like him" she sneered and set off for
the market.

That Nevada sun wasn't the only thing that made me sweat.

Photographs From the Della Sumner visit:

After reading this . . twice, I can't believe more people haven't replied.
Some of the best thought-provoking material I've read in a long time.
Kudos to the author, you are definitely a writer to look up to. Thank you.

reply to post by SIEGE


Thank you and when I get the time, more will be added.

I've been reading, haven't replied since I just sit and wait for the next post to come.

VERY intriguing stuff.

reply to post by A boy in a dress


Dude, you KNOW I'm paying attention!!!
so....do you want to start a 'working thread' and collaborate?

I'm game!

Gambling Of Different Sorts.

"To be able to pass from one timeframe to another..." Helen said as we pulled out
of The Best Western motel's driveway "...Imagine such a gift" she added and cranked
the air-conditioning to maximum. The evening was two hours away and we had decided
to check-out and set off to our next destination.

I know that by now in a fictional romance novel, the two main characters would have
been in each other's arms and even-possibly utilised the motel's bedroom for an obvious
purpose. But this is the real world and I'm no expert in relationships, I suppose -like my
Father, I'm a 'chip-off-the-old-block' and tend to hold my feelings close.
But I did wonder what Helen's feelings for me were.

After visiting Della Sumner, I had urged the little Nissan along Parump's north-to-south
highway called Valley Road and pulled into a Walmart carpark, the afternoon's heat would
keep most of the 'trolley-dashers' inside the Store's sprawling grey building and it seemed
we couldn't wait to discuss our latest acquisition of information.

The two photographs -the first showed Boy In A Dress standing next to a young man in
army duds and seemed relaxed beside the odd creature that resembled a female.
The vehicles in the background looked like tanks and I asked Helen if Los Alamos Labs
would have such heavy-duty machinery.

"Ah... and that's why you'll need me on this quest, my dear Watson" she said with a
knowing smile and pulled a small notebook from her purse. With small neat-nailed hands,
Helen flicked the pages whilst I rummaged through a paper sack that I'd aquired earlier.
Tucking into foil-wrapped corn dog, Helen continued.

"You should've turned the photos over, you should've read what was written on the backs"
she said and wiped her lips with a paper napkin, I watched in silence and nibbled my own
snack.

"Gunfighters -Idaho" Helen read and searched my face for any clue to what she had said,
I assure the reader I did not have a clue.
In the Potato State of Idaho resides The Mountain Home Air Force Base, apparently they fly
F-15s and other fighter craft from the base in Elmore County. Google -via my laptop told me
that the pilots are known as 'Gunfighters'

The enigmatic title was pencilled on the photo of BIAD being thrown from an aircraft.
With the meat-clogged sticks of our corn dogs placed in a nearby trash bin, I swung the
Nissan out onto the highway and we headed for Nevada's northern State line.

Helen found the address of Oswald Lang on her Father's list around the time we hit the
roadway known as I-95, the day was slipping away from us and with the steady drone of
the road ahead, we talked again.

"You know, this list reads like Staver's file" Helen muttered as she perused the mass of
papers. My fellow-crusader went on to explain her statement.
"I must admit that during my Father's time at Los Alamos, I became interested in the Base's
history. Have you ever heard of Operation Paperclip?" she asked and ignoring the Military
signs of The Nellis Bombing Range on our right, I shook my head.

"After the Second World War ended, President Trueman ordered the OSS to gather up
and sanitise German scientists that had worked for Germany's Nazi party" Helen told me.
The road that would take us on up to Tonopah waited many miles away, Highway Six would
pass the area where the weird Ufo-watchers scanned the skies for strange lights that
supposedly originate from the non-acknowledged place called Area 51.

"Major Robert Staver grabbed some of the scientists for his rocket propulsion tests and
a few of them came to Los Alamos along with the Germans with their eye on an Atomic
bomb" Helen said and held a smudged document up for me to see.
"Oswald Lang was initially in Von Braun's rocket group, but after some sort of disagreement,
he was shipped off to a Idaho base that had just been reactivated... I believe that base was
Mountain Home Air Base"

The Mizpah Motel Sign blinked on as we cruised (can one cruise in a Nissan rental?)... into
downtown Tonopah, the waning sun painted the Nevada sky with hues of pink and lilacs.

Marcus Fielding's daughter laid out the connecting dots that had quietly bled their way
across America's post-war scientific history, all the way from a hope to split an atom up to
creating a super-soldier that would kill at a General's whim.

In a different manner to Boy In A Dress -but with the same principle, Helen and I were
also travelling through time.

The Lonely Road.

In 1948, Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated, Scientists Ralph Alpher and George Gamow
write a paper about the Big Bang Theory, Alger Hiss was being painted into a corner as
a communist spy and The Mountain Home Air Base in Idaho stirred to life again.

Oswald Lang began his work on creating aircraft that would outrun sound.
Rockets with men strapped to 'em.

Idaho Falls lay ahead as the velvet sky offered it's brilliant jewels and I occasionally
glanced over to see Helen gazing out at the dark heavens. "It's a beautiful night" she
commented once as we travelled that lonely 51 highway.

I-93 wound it's way towards the address that Helen held in the list on her lap and
as the sign for Rogerson slipped by us, she laid out her theory.
"Lang believed that von Braun was wrong with his plan to continue the development
of the V-2..." she said keeping her eyes on the road "...my Father once told me that Lang
disliked the man because of something he'd done during the war"

I glanced over at the meek-looking woman in the passenger seat, she was digging out
old memories and I wondered what clues to wonderous secrets she held in her head.

"When it was decided to send Boy In A Dress to Dugway, the Military were focused on
rocketry and having jets go faster, the idea of dabbling in something called Quantum
Field Theory was something for men in lab coats " she whispered softly and shook her head.
"Oh they had dabbled with it, the early-50's would find my Father and Charles Shaw secretly
testing the creature. I remember my Father spending a whole weekend gathering rocks out
in the desert"
A pair of small red eyes glowed from the roadside and as my headlights passed on to show
more desolate road, I asked her what her Father thought about the change.

Helen turned her head to gaze out of the side-window and a quietness settled in the dial
-glow of the car's interior.

"Pa and Shaw knew that Ramey was still watching..." she said after a full minute "...It was
said that Operation Upshot-Knothole was something that Ramey saw as a waste of time and
real infiltration of Russia was the way forward" Helen looked over at me and added "super-
soldiers on the ground"

The Korean War was almost over by late-1952 and America was wanting to get into the space
race. Sputnik was beeping above us and Wernher Von Braun was being urged to come up
with something that would put the 'Ruskies' in the shade. The year rolled on.

The CIA were busy stirring-up trouble in South America and some guy with a penchant for
cigars was prowling a small island ninety-miles from Florida's coast.
Oh... and Vietnam was a boil waiting to burst, the Military were looking overseas.

"The idea that a possibly indestructible soldier was a great idea..." Helen said pulling me from
my woolgathering "...but they wanted to be sure but with the conflicts banging on the door for
attention, Boy In A Dress was put on the back-burner"

I recalled some of my own Father's notes and offered that BIAD seemed to have been resigned
to wandering the labs of Los Alamos with a British Janitor.
Helen smiled at a memory and answered "Oh yes, Jenkins"

The town of Mountain Home glowed ahead of us and I wondered if Oswald Lang could show us
the way.

The Strange Little Scientist.

Mr. Lang stared wide-eyed at Helen Fielding and myself from the half-opened doorway
and grunted. "You should not be here..." he hissed in his thick-German accent and glanced
over my shoulder "they know who you are looking for"
The two-storey home smacked of frugal savings and a feeling that Oswald Lang wanted
to stay out of any confrontation. In fact, I'd say he was alittle paranoid.

"Also, my little forschers... it's late" he added and hurried us in through the brown door
with the grinning-devil knocker.

Mountain Home Air force Base lay two miles west of Oswald Lang's abode and the faint
-drone of engines every few minutes told us that the base didn't just operate in only
daylight hours.

"Della rang me a couple of hours ago and told me that she thought you would head this
way, she was always the smart-one" Oswald muttered as he shuffled around the dimly-lit
room.

One could be generous and call it a study, a reading-room dominated by stacks of books and
straining shelves laden with more leather-bound tomes. Four brown armchairs squatted
toad-like among the books and a document-strewn coffee table waited infront of an unlit
fireplace. The mantlepiece held books of course.
It seemed that the only other dominant objects in the room were ashtrays, cigarette-butt
filled ashtrays.

"So you seek the Boy In A Dress, yah?" Oswald asked through a cloud of cigarette smoke and
with the wave of a hand, invited us to sit in the low armchairs, Helen carefully moved a pile
of papers and thanked him with a whisper.

"You are welcome mein Frauen" Lang said dumped himself in the opposite seat, I accepted
the chair with an unopened book on it's arm. 'Fluid Mechanics, An Analysis'
A couple of seconds passed before Helen broke the quietness, Lang's laboured breathing
and a ticking clock were the only other sounds.

"You indicated at the door that someone knew we were here, what did you mean" she asked
and I knew that Marcus Fielding's daughter would use all her charm to draw any information
that this elderly scientist, he was 'old school' and Helen knew it.

"Ah yes -my wenig Frau, it seems that that even here in the heart of democracy, there are
those who want secrets to remain just that... secrets" Oswald Lang replied and stifled a
giggle. I looked on and wondered if the Los Alamos establishment had seen Lang as abit of
a loon, the aged-scientist certainly seemed odd.

" No matter, when the time comes, they will let you know that you've strayed too-far" he
said amiably and crushed the Marlboro into a chunky-glass bowl marked 'Idaho, A Place To
Rest'
The clock ticked on.

"In 1945, your Government decided to explode the bomb..." Lang began "...It was to take
place where the sand is like sugar. You know this place, yah?" he asked and struck a match
with a horny-fingernail.

Helen nodded as I did, but we knew that it was prudent to remain silent, the man wanted
to tell his tale and it was late -to boot.
"Your Father and I were against it... but as our fields lay elsewhere, we were ignored. They
ignited that terrible gadget and I believe they ignited something else..." he slowly waved the
glowing cigarette in front of his face "...they ignited the militärisch... I mean the Miltary's lust
for such beasts"

Slowly reaching over to a crumpled file on the rickety coffee table, wheezed his breath as he
searched for something that lay there.

"The records show that the following devices were exploded out in the oceans, but there is
one other that took place here on the mainland" he growled and pulled the photographs into
view. "They call them silly names... Ivy-something and Greenhouse, but the bomb with that
poor Boy In A Dress strapped to it had no name... just as he has no name"

I could feel the anger in Oswald's voice, the old man in the night held it in well, but I knew
that if there was a road that would lead us to the mysterious Man/Girl, then Oswald Lang
would want us to find it.

"Here Miss Fielding -here is the creature you seek" Lang announced and stuck out his hand of
sepia photographs.

"That is me and your Father..." he said and I leaned towards Helen and the image of BIAD
strapped in a strange machine. She nodded and handed it to me.
"...The bomb sent him flying for over a mile and yet, he lived" Lang sniffed and raised his
eyebrows as if he still couldn't believe it.

(Continued Below)

(From Below)

"That one shows the Boy going through his tests... they tried to freeze him, yah?" he said
as he pointed that-same horned-nailed finger at the photo in Helen's hands.
I accepted the picture from the quiet-woman beside me and scanned the odd image, BIAD
sat in a contraption and seemed to be breathing into a face-mask. The unknown woman
beside him monitored the experiment.

Oswald then lifted himself slowly from the air-farting armchair and stretched his back
straight "It's late and I must take my medicine" he moaned softly and I knew it was time
for us to leave.

Lang insisted we kept the file and even though I hadn't seen the other photographs (there
are nine in total and I will add them all a.s.a.p)... we explained that we had to go and
made our way from the cluttered study.

"There's a bildnis, tut-tut... I am sorry..." the old man apologised "...an image that your
dear Father gave me, it is of you when you were a smal mädchen" Oswald smiled like only
old men can. The night-air was welcoming from the stale cigarette atmosphere that abided
on Planet -Lang.

Helen smiled back from the doorstep and with a swift-movement, she leaned forward and
kissed the German's cheek. "Thank you" she whispered into his hairy-ear.
The Idaho stars looked down as Oswald Lang passed on his advice, I would discover later that
it was probably the last piece of advice he would offer anyone.

"Get to the place where Bison-Bill lived, John Bridges will help you further..." Lang whispered
back and began to close the door "...All you need is in the file"

I spoke, maybe it was the first time I had spoken since we'd invaded this strange little man's
home. " You called us something when we first arrived, what was it?" I asked softly and
stifled a yawn.

Oswald Lang's eyes gazed up into the dark sky and attempted to recall the statement.
"Ah yes, my little 'forschers'..." he said with a tired-grin "it means 'searchers'... so go and
search"
The door closed on my surprised and confused face.

Pictures with permission from Oswald Lang:

Other Images.

Cooling One's Heels.

Helen Fielding slipped the sheaves of papers back into the file and breathed in deeply,
"they really did a number on the poor-thing" she whispered.

We'd decided on The Hampton Hotel in Twin Falls for our agreed respite. After ignoring
the uncomfortable looks from the Desk Clerk for booking-in at such a late hour, we had
gone to our respective rooms and being only able to vouch for myself, slept soundly.

The next morning, ten laps in the indoor pool refreshed my too-white body and as
Helen -wrapped in a pastel-flowered shawl and enjoying her third coffee -sat in the
big rattan chair and read Oswald Lang's documents, I dried-off and pondered the long
trip to Wyoming.

'Bison-Bill' the small German scientist had advised us and again, it was Helen's special
way of looking at problems that had brought us the answer.

"Bison-Bill, he means buffalo... he means Buffalo Bill" she had muttered as we had
driven into Twin Falls. The small phone had appeared and after perusing the internet,
Helen had smiled that smile that I was falling in love with and announced her result.

"In 1895, Buffalo Bill assisted in the creation of a small town that quietly resides in
the North-West corner of Wyoming. It boasts wide roads that a person can turn a
wagon and oxen -in, a trail town consisting of buildings from the West's past and
a rodeo evening every night at this time of the year"
I swung the vehicle into the well-foilaged area of The Hampton Hotel's carpark and
wiped the tiredness from my eyes, I was beat.

They named it after Big-Bill's surname..." Helen added dramatically and scanned
my weary features.
"...They named it Cody"

The day was welcomely reluctant to move as we sat in the warm-quiet room of the
pool area.A Tuesday morning would usually find any of the odd sale-reps that used
the hotel on their way to wherever sales-reps go and the rare tourist were busy bundling
their sleepy-eyed families into the luggage-laden Hertz-car for the trek ahead.

I hid my scrawny-bod by pulling on a t-shirt bought from the Hotel gift-shop and proclaimed
to the world that 'I Love Idaho!' in happy font. The chair beside Helen whispered that I could
snooze for a while, but I resisted.
Helen and myself soaked in the peace.

"Lang was there when General Ramey began his plans to use Boy In A Dress for the 'Super
Soldier' project..." Helen said softly and watched the water twist the light coming in from
the windows on the other side of the pool "...His notes indicate that Charles Shaw went
along with the tests for a while" she added.

Somewhere, a bell called for a room-maid to assist in some task that probably involved
cleaning and as I felt my muscles enjoying the earlier excerise, I asked Helen if she had
thoughts on what Oswald Lang had warned us about.

The coffee had gone and I guessed she was pondering whether to go to the cart in the
foyer and grab another one. I reached for the cup and without a word, I went for a refill.
"Somewhere, we have tripped a wire..." Helen said after sipping the hot brew "...I'd say
that if someone is watching us, then the idea that the Boy In A Dress is alive is a valid one
and so, we'd better watch out for anything suspicious"

The lapping water marked the time as I thought about what the future may hold. I had
already had a run-in with the British MI-5 and now I'd dragged this young woman into my
adopted-quest, maybe I'd become too-much like my Father.

"I think that strange-little man that we visited last night didn't realise what he had given
us in this file" Helen said softly and looked backwards to the windows that separated
us from the corridor and Check-In counter, her eyes narrowed and I saw the 'sexy-serious'
features.

"You know that growing up in a place that values secrecy, I've been reluctant to tell you
some of the things that I THINK I know..." she whispered and watched the young man
browsing the register at the counter. I nodded and followed her gaze, I was seeing another
side of this woman.

"...My Father had always impressed on me not to discuss his work at Los Alamos with my
school friends and I have honoured that request for years" Helen turned her head and
stared intently into my eyes. "But I can't stop you reading what Lang has left in there" she
said and flicked those beautiful grey-blue eyes towards the thumb-smudged envelope.

Both letters were marked 'Top Secret' and the condition of them told me that they were
photo-copies and very old.

(Continued Below)

(From Above)

Oswald Lang was either taking a big chance or the befuddled old-man hadn't been so
diligent in storing his secret past. I have posted parts of the letters here.
(Please note: Helen asked me to remove the lower-parts of the documents due to the
information hampering our search in the future)




"The USAF didn't know that-much about Boy In A Dress and I'd bet that Ramey wanted to
keep it that way..." Helen said as I tracked the words across the pages "...Imagine a soldier
that can't be burned or frozen, imagine an army that can endure what Boy In A Dress went
through?" she said and glanced back at the Foyer.

"My Father told me once that Shaw had realised Ramey's plans and even went as far as
to say that maybe the stern-faced Major would use this 'wonder-squad' for his own... more
clandestine reasons" Helen said and as I prepared to mimic her vigilence for a moment,
she coughed suddenly.

The fat-bellied man in the bermuda shorts entered the pool-room with a white hotel towel
under his flabby arm "Good morning" he offered lightly and waddled towards the rattan
seats near the shadowed hot-tub.

Helen pushed the coffee cup across the table and with those same beautiful grey-blue eyes,
indicated that we should leave.

A Late and Hesitant Reply.
I have been off-line for some time as Helen Fielding and myself have
been reluctant to share our investigations with you due to a visit to the
retired scientist named John Bridges.
I apologise again... (it seems I'm saying sorry more-and-more!)... and hope
you'll see why we've kept below the radar. Mr. Bridges informed us that
he and possibly another party were monitoring this website and the man
from Wyoming implied that through this media, we were being tracked for
an unknown reason.
But Helen and I have discussed it and we arrived at the decision to continue
the reporting. To hell with the spooks!

John Bridges was a pragmatic man, a retired gent who's only goal on
the day we visited him was to fix the fence at the bottom of his yard and
explain around three round-wire nails that looking for Boy In A Dress was
a hopeless task.

The old guy in the bib-and-braces and cheesecloth shirt went further, he
advised us that writing about Helen and myself's quest on the internet was
putting on very dangerous ground.

"Shaw's experiment is long-gone..." Mr. Bridges said and pounded the seven-foot
board into place "...Charles took a helluva lot of flack for allowing BIAD to escape
from Dugway" he mumbled and placed another nail onto the plank's surface.
The staccato beat of iron-against-wood marked passing time of the Wyoming
late-morning.

"You're wastin' your time, fella" John rasped and gazed unenthusiastically at the pile of
waiting lumber. Big thunderheads waited just north of us as we stood in the grass-struggling
yard on the outskirts of Cody, Wyoming and I wondered if the search had dried up,
it certainly felt like it.

Mrs. Bridges appeared from the kitchen door with the tray of three tumblers, lemonade
and ice clittered against the glass as she smiled at Helen. "Take no notice of him honey,
he's been puttin' off that chore for over a month now" Cybil Bridges quietly informed the
younger woman.
I thanked her and with a nod of permission from the narrow-eyed owner, I sat down in the
off-white plastic chair that was propped against it's parent-table, I presumed the position
was to keep the rain off it's seat.

"A scientist called Oswald Lang told us that you were the person to see" I said easily and
hoped the confidence in my voice would prompt Bridges to offer some information.
The tirade we heard was certainly not expected.

"You been talkin' to that crazy-Kraut...?"he said with a tone of alarm in his voice "...did you
know he was kicked out of Alamos because of the robot-plane he invented?"
Cybil sighed and showed Helen a 'oh here we go' look by rolling her eyes, the now-sitting
Ms. Fielding returned a gentle grin and sipped her lemonade.

"Yeah, that sorta stuff doesn't get written down anywhere and it sure-as-hell won't show
up on that nutty website you keep your going on" Bridges smiled to himself as he lifted
another board into place.
"Lang was a liability, he nearly killed four grunts with that thing... 'It senses things' - he kept
saying" the angry-old man growled sardonically and hammered a nail in with anger.

The tall nimbus clouds with the bruised bases slid closer and I guessed John Bridges would
be throwing a tarp over the pile of wood around an hour from now.

Ignoring the urge to ask how he knew about ATS, I asked if he had any idea where BIAD
may have gone. The grey-haired lady with the empty metal tray sighed to nobody and
retreated back to the kitchen door, I assumed she had heard all this before.

John Bridges sighed as if he'd come to the same conclusion as myself in regards of
the approaching weather and placing the hammer onto the gnarled sawhorse he looked at
the ground, the cranky-old man was thinking.

"Lang was smart, yer' know?..." John muttered and offered wise-old eyes that told of
sights in his past that would make a younger man tremble in awe. "...He may have been
that-far crazy that he was too smart" he added and slid the denim braces from his shoulders.

The long drink of lemonade seemed to take away the last vesitage of the old man's
annoyance and Dr. J. Bridges -Astrophysicist and the man who first-guessed Klaus Fuchs
was sending information to the Russians, looked like someone at peace with himself.

I glanced at Helen and she nodded as if a secret passed between us, I realised the assumed
plot as she stood up and walked towards where Cybil Bridges busied herslf with training a
clematis to climb up a trellis pinned to her kitchen wall.

"Yer think yer' know someone and yet there's always a surprise waitin' around the corner"
John whispered and brought my attention back to the fore. I agreed with another nod and
glanced towards his wife. However, my detective skills were still in their juvenile-stage when
compared to Helen's.

"Bob Oppenheimer knew what Charles Shaw's creation really was" he said softly and I gulped
with wide eyes, I was listening.

(Continued Below)