After Moro goes to her truck, Jeanette looks at the CD and is perplexed as to how a career in classical music fits in with a pedophile kidnapping the Jeanette of this timeline.
 
 
Jade rides in the truck with Moro, not knowing if she can trust this wolf Spirit. After all, Kim (who mysteriously disappeared) was the only person who was kind to her.
 
Moro is not sure what she should do for Jade. The only thing she was sure of is she wanted Jade out of that abusive situation. For reasons Moro does not understand, the Texas Spirits have a near-obsession with the Haibane. Should Moro adopt? That is something Moro asked herself though there are two reasons why she shouldn't: Should she and can she be a mother now? Moro is only a hundred-twenty-five-years-old. The other is, while Spirits are near Immortal, there is no such as an Immortal Haibane.
 
 
In the Beetle, Jeanette plays the CD Moro gave her. The girl on the CD has an incredible voice, like an angel. There is one problem: the girl on the CD sounds nothing like Jeanette. There is only one conclusion Jeanette can come to: someone else is singing. So why this charade, who is behind this and who do they think they are kidding?
 
Jeanette turns off the music and gets on the radio. "Moro, are you there?"
 
Moro responds. "This is Moro. What's up, Jeanette?"
 
"I was listening to the CD you gave me. The girl you claim to be me is not me. I'm good but I'm not that good."
 
"Jeanette." Moro sighs. "We will discuss this at our next stop. Moro out."
 
Moro and Jeanette put the radio down.
 
Jeanette Isabelle

Moro uses her mobile device to access the life signs detector to get Valentine's vital signs. She then places a call. "This is Moro."
 
"Hello, Moro." Says the voice over the mobile device.
 
"Are you monitoring Valentine's vital signs?"
 
"Relax, Moro. Valentine is near immortal and Jeanette mentioned her in future entries of her journal."
 
"I know." Moro sighs.
 
"We have not been granted permission to rescue Valentine or Immortal Jeanette."
 
"Immortal Jeanette does not want us, nor this party, to rescue her; we know she's okay. Aside from her vital signs, we don't know how Valentine is doing."
 
"Is this about Immortal Jeanette?"
 
"We know Immortal Jeanette is okay. It's Valentine I'm concerned about. That and I don't know we can do about Wilbur Robinson."
 
"Wait? What do you mean?" The voice on the other end asks.
 
"According to Torah, we are to try Wilbur and execute him if found guilty. Wilbur used a rather clever trick. He brought Immortal Jeanette to the year 2000 [when Jeanette would legally be fourteen] to deliberately get himself caught. Since Wilbur was born in 2024, there is no way to identify him in 2000. Not legally. By being tried, convicted and executed as a John Doe, he is protecting the Robinson name. And by doing all that in the past, the death penalty is already paid. That, and if we do arrest Wilbur now, we will undo everything he has accomplished by taking Jeanette to the year 2000. Not only would we be harming Immortal Jeanette; we can kiss the journal goodbye."
 
Jeanette Isabelle

Note: I'm changing the location of Penn Springs. Not only do I think it would be better if it were further south, I think it would be better to keep the site flexible until we decide to go there. It will still need to be along the Charlton Railroad.
 
I'm close to wrapping up Day 2 of the introductory story.
 
Jeanette Isabelle

RPG:
 
Some 20 miles have pasted without incident. But for some unknown reason the convoy slows down to a crawl. Nothing is said on the radio. The slowing down of the convoy also quiets it down until a new sound comes into the ears of those driving or awake. The sound of loud engines of motorcycles. Many motorcycles, in a longer line than that of the convoy which is almost a mile. The odd thing about this motorcycle group is how they are riding: loaded with passengers, cargo and gear; some with trailers, other with sidecars, few with both. Some are 2-wheel motorcycles (with or without side cars), others are 3-wheer motor-tricycles. They were all on some form a motorcycle despite having various car and truck parts. They all seemed to be heading to Center Town.
 
Though the convoy slowed down to allow sharing of the road with the motorcycle convoy, radio contact with them was kept at a minimum. Upon seeing them, Fernando takes his CB Microphone and makes sure it is on one of the public road channels, 18 in this case.
 
“2-wheel convoy, this is The Doctor. What is your heading?” Fernando repeats a couple of times.
 
There were several moments of static filled silence before somebody answers.
 
“This is The Leader. You’re the last rider on your convoy in the white Chuckwagon?” The voice on the radio replies.
 
”I am.” Fernando answers.
 
“We heard so much of you and your group.” The Leader replies.
 
“All of it good I hope. Just in asking, however, where are you and your group heading too?” Fernando says and asks.
 
“Ha ha... Much of what we heard is good. We’re heading into Center Town before heading to Sturgis for the 2-wheel rally there.” The Leader explains.
 
“We will be heading to Sturgis in about a week’s time. We just have to make a couple stops around here first.” Fernando explains.
 
“Sounds great. We’ll be at Center Town for a few days, maybe we can meet up and hitch up our convoys together.” The Leader replies.
 
“Let see what happens in a few days.” Fernando replies.
 
“Yes.” The leader replies.
 
“This is the doctor, returning to radio silence. Out.” Fernando transmits.
 
The radio frequency becomes silent, and both convoys eye each other as they pass by one another, more out of curiosity than as a threat one has to defend themselves from.
 
It takes over an hour and a half for the convoys to pass each other, because the convoy is only as fast as its slowest vehicle. Seeing their last vehicle, they can see why they are travelling so slow.
 

Quote from Jeanette on May 8^th, 2018, 9:14am:

 
you can continue east from from sturgis then south through nebraska then east again. just because we go to sturgis doesn't mean we have to go through Kansas