Ancient Enemy Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Lukens, Mark

  “Cole!” he heard Stella scream at him.

  He turned and saw Stella in front of the couch where David slept, but David had his arms raised up in the air and his hands were moving. But to Cole it didn’t seem like his hands were drawing an ancient language in the air, to Cole it looked more like David was a puppeteer pulling on imaginary strings.

  Cole saw Stella’s eyes dart to the kitchen.

  He followed her stare and saw Tom Gordon by the freezer, he watched him take a step away from the freezer, a step towards them.

  “Where’d you go, Cole?” Stella asked in a cracking voice; she seemed close to tears.

  Cole ran to Stella. “I’ve got us a way out of here,” he told her. “Get David! We need to go!”

  Just then something slammed into the front door—an ax. Cole snapped his eyes to the front door and he could see the tip of the ax poking through the wood of the front door. The ax blade wiggled out and it left a gash in the wood. A few seconds later the ax slammed into the door again.

  Stella was watching the door as Cole grabbed her. “Get David up!”

  “I’ve tried! He’s not waking up!”

  “I’ll carry David,” he told her. He saw that she had Jose’s gun in her hand. “You need to put that gun down. You can’t shoot that gun in here no matter what happens.”

  She nodded; she knew what the gas smell in the cabin meant. She dropped her gun on the floor, it landed with a thud.

  Cole turned to bend down and scoop David up off the couch, but he never got the chance to pick him up.

  “Where are we going?” Stella asked him

  “We’ll go out the back,” he said, but even as Cole uttered the words he could hear the splintering of wood from down the hall, like something incredibly strong was tearing the back door off of its hinges.

  They were trapped. They were surrounded.

  It was never going to let me get out, Cole’s mind whispered. It knew about my plans all along and it was always one step ahead of me. I was never going to outsmart it—it has been around a long, long time.

  Tom Gordon stumbled towards them and he nearly fell over because of his unsteady legs, but he kept on coming. He kept stumbling towards them, impossibly seeing through the black holes where his eyes used to be. And he opened his mouth and bared his teeth in a rictus smile.

  The ax hit the front door again and again. It had already nearly split the door right down the middle; the door was barely hanging in the doorway by the door handle and the hinges.

  From the hallway, behind the flimsy barricade of the dining room table, Cole heard two more bodies stumbling forward through the darkness.

  Needles and Trevor, his mind whispered at him. Needles with his eyeless face and the gory exit wound in his forehead that would now be like another dark hole in his face.

  And Trevor. Cole didn’t want to think about seeing Trevor again.

  Stella shook David again and again. She screamed at him to wake up. But he wouldn’t wake up.

  Jose split the front door apart with one last powerful strike from his ax. He stepped through into the cabin, into the light, and Cole could see Jose now.

  The flesh from Jose’s neck and throat were nearly gone; only a thin shaft of spine and a few spindly tendons held his head up, like some kind of flesh balloon being held aloft by a string of bone.

  Jose’s face had been peeled away in many places, revealing shiny white bone. On one side of his face, a large section of his teeth were visible now that the flesh was gone; his tongue flicked over the white teeth like a giant red slug.

  Jose took a step towards Cole and Stella; he held the ax in hands that were skeletal, nearly all of the flesh had been torn away from his hands.

  Cole and Stella huddled together.

  Frank stood in the doorway and watched them. The thing out there was seeing through Frank’s eyes, and it spoke through Frank’s mouth. “Last chance,” it said through Frank’s mouth. “Kill the boy and we’ll let you go.”

  Cole knew that he needed to get Stella and David out of the cabin now, in a few minutes the microwave was going to count down to zero and then it was going to start. The can of soda was going to heat up and then it was going to spark and explode. And that was going to ignite the gas from the stove. And that was going to spread to the gas-soaked logs of the cabin outside. This place was going to become an inferno. He had to get David out of here; he couldn’t let David die or all of his preparations would be for nothing. David would die. He and Stella would die. And maybe this thing wouldn’t die—maybe it would go on living. David would be dead and that creature, that thing out there, whatever it was, would have won.

  Cole couldn’t let that happen.

  Cole aimed his gun at Tom Gordon, then at Jose. But then he lowered his gun—it wouldn’t do any good, one shot could ignite this whole cabin. Instead, he pointed his gun at himself; he shoved the barrel under his chin and laid his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. He smiled at Frank.

  “Move aside, Frank,” Cole said. “You let Stella and David go or I’ll kill myself.”

  There was a crashing noise from the hallway. Stella looked over and saw the dining room table thrown aside from the doorway to the hall. She saw Needles and Trevor stumble out from the darkness.

  Cole wouldn’t allow himself to look at Trevor or Needles—he kept his eyes on Frank. “Last chance, Frank,” he said.

  No answer from Frank for a moment, and then he cocked his head the other way and smiled at Cole. “Pull the trigger, Cole. Die. And then we’ll all tear Stella apart with our fingers and teeth right in front of the boy. And you will help us.”

  Cole hesitated. He knew if he pulled the trigger there might be enough gas lingering in the room to cause an explosion. He couldn’t risk it.

  Something bumped into Stella from the couch behind her. She whirled around and saw that David was still asleep, but his body was levitating, floating up into the air; his body was already up to her shoulders. His legs hung down in the air, but his arms were still straight up, his hands were still moving frantically, still frantically writing.

  Then the microwave dinged—the timer had counted down to zero. The microwave turned on and began heating the can of soda that rotated inside.

  It was too late.

  All of the dead men rushed towards Cole and Stella, even Frank. Their mouths were wide open; their hands were like claws now. Whatever parts the monster out there had taken from their bodies, it had always left their teeth—their gnashing teeth that could bite and tear at flesh.

  Stella kept her eyes on David’s levitating body as the tears rolled out of her eyes. “David,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried my best to protect you.”

  David’s eyes popped open. His mouth opened wide, and he screamed.

  “NOOO!! YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM!!!”

  Sparks shot off the can of soda inside the microwave.

  The dead men ran across the wooden floor of the cabin, they were almost on top of Cole and Stella. Cole kept his gun pointed under his chin, his finger still on the trigger. He’d rather die in the explosion than from their teeth.

  There was a blinding flash of light.

  A rushing of wind …

  CHAPTER 45

  Cole opened his eyes and saw a dark blue sky above him that was just beginning to lighten up from a rising sun somewhere still on the horizon in the east. But there was a light coming from somewhere else, a flickering light, a reddish-orange light. And the light was warm. A lovely warmth in the freezing cold.

  But he couldn’t hear anything except a high-pitched whine in his ears. Everything else seemed to be muffled.

  He felt confused, unsure for a moment where he was, where he had been. He realized he was looking up at the early morning sky. He realized he was lying in the snow. And he realized that something near him was on fire.

  The cabin.

  The cabin was on fire.

  Cole’s sluggish mind struggled to remember as his hands and legs moved i
n the snow. He could feel the cold wetness of the snow saturating his clothes.

  He sat up quickly and he saw Stella. She was only about ten feet away from him; she was sitting up in the snow. She might have been saying something to him, yelling at him, but he couldn’t hear her.

  But he could see the expression on her face. He knew that expression well now—pure terror.

  Stella got to her feet and stumbled over to a small dark shape slumped in the snow.

  It was David.

  Cole forced himself to stand up and the high-pitched whine in his ears died away. He could now hear the crackling fire from the blazing cabin. He could hear Stella screaming for David.

  He rushed through the snow and he dropped down to his knees beside Stella as she shook David’s body. She was crying, the tears spilling down her cheeks and glistening on her skin.

  “Is he …” Cole asked.

  David turned over in the snow and his eyes fluttered, and then they opened.

  Stella burst into sobs and she hugged David. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He nodded and she picked him up into a sitting position on the snow. He smiled at her and he wiped away at her tears.

  Cole looked back at the burning cabin.

  In the doorway and on the front porch were the burning bodies of what used to be his brother and the bank robbing crew. The bodies were being reduced to ash and bone very quickly in the blaze. A few of the bodies, now almost indistinguishable from each other, writhed and tried to move, but they were too badly damaged to escape now.

  He could see something inside of the bodies—inside each one of them. They each looked like some kind of gigantic spider or insect, dark and leggy. The things slithered through each one of their ribcages and then escaped the burning bodies. The things joined each other, clinging together and forming a kind of a spidery creature that didn’t make sense to Cole’s mind; it resembled some kind of giant sea creature in the flames, like an octopus maybe, but the tentacles were jointed like a crab. And then there were what looked like wings for a moment. It seemed to be constantly changing form.

  And then it scuttle/slithered deeper into the cabin, deeper into the fire.

  Was it dying? Would the fire kill it?

  Cole looked back at David who stared at him. “Did you get us out of the cabin?” he asked David. “Did you save us?”

  David didn’t answer, he only stared at Cole.

  “Yes,” Stella answered for David. “He saved us.”

  Cole stared at David. “That thing … is it dying in there?” he asked.

  David didn’t answer.

  *

  Ten minutes later Cole had the snowmobile running. He drove it out of the garage, drove it past Tom Gordon’s pickup truck, and then he came to a stop by Stella and David who waited for him. They needed to hurry—the smoke from the cabin was going to draw emergency vehicles eventually. And cops.

  Stella got on the snowmobile behind Cole, and then she scooted back so David could climb onto the snowmobile in between them. She put her arms around David to protect him as they got ready to take off for the driveway that wound through the trees and joined the county road a half mile away.

  She knew they were going to get away from this place, but she didn’t know what Cole’s plans were after that. She knew that she needed to get David to a safe place; she needed to find someone who could help David train, someone who could help David harness his powers.

  Because that monster didn’t die in the fire—she felt certain of that. Maybe it was hurt, but it wasn’t defeated totally. And those things that had crawled out of the burning bodies were only a small part of it, she thought. There was a much larger part somewhere else in the woods.

  And it would come back for David again, and this time he needed to be ready for it.

  Cole gunned the engine and they drove forward through the snow. Cole drove slowly, trying to be careful with all three of them on the snowmobile yet he still felt an overwhelming urge to get away from the burning cabin and whatever that monster was inside of it.

  Stella held on to David as he turned around for one last look at the burning cabin.

  Stella didn’t see the small and mysterious smile on David’s face as he watched the cabin burn.

  PROLOGUE

  Saturday

  CHAPTER 1

  Navajo Reservation—dig site

  Randy Tahoma sat on his horse at the edge of the ridge, staring down at the dig site on the canyon floor below. He had ridden by this dig site several times in the past few weeks, stopping for a few minutes to watch the scientists below as they hurried around like ants on little missions. He wondered why they were so intent on digging up the land, digging up the bones of the ancient people. They should let those old ghosts lie in peace. Nothing good could come from digging around down there; Randy was sure of that.

  In the many times he had sat up here on this ridge watching the scientists, he hadn’t gone down there to greet them. What they were doing wasn’t any of his business. Many other Navajo in the area were openly critical of the archaeologists and this dig site, but Randy tried to mind his own business and keep to himself. Besides, if he went down there they would probably bombard him with questions about ancient stories and local legends. White people thought every Navajo could recount their people’s entire history at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t worth the hassle. He was content to sit up here on his horse and just watch for a while.

  Randy was “retired” now … more like forced into it. His sons and grandsons had taken over the sheepherding chores on his property. He still felt like he could work, but they insisted that he take it easy in the years he had left. But now his days were filled with aimless wandering, and that aimless wandering had taken him here to the dig site today.

  But he noticed that the camp was different today. Everything was still and silent, no movement anywhere, no sounds drifting up to the ridge where he sat, no smoke from a campfire. He waited at the top of the ridge for almost thirty minutes, bundled up in his heavy coat as he watched the two trailers and tents below. He also watched the line of trucks and SUVs farther away from the camp, all of them parked in a line near a stand of juniper bushes and cottonwood trees.

  The mouth of the cave looked like a slit in the rock wall from way up here, but he knew it was far bigger than it looked from where he sat. When someone entered or left the cave, he could see that two people could easily stand side by side in the mouth of the cave if they wanted to. The opening was wider at the bottom and it narrowed to a crack thirty feet above the canyon floor. The mouth looked like it had been hidden before by shrubbery and plants for a long time, and now those shrubs were cut away and drying up in heaps on the desert floor.

  Something felt wrong down there. Every time he’d been here before he had seen at least one person walking back and forth from their camp to the mouth of the cave. He had heard the clicking sounds of hammers tapping on rocks, music playing from somebody’s battery-powered radio, a bark of laughter, the words of a conversation floating up to him. He had seen the lights shining in the two trailers and he’d seen the lights burning on the string of electrical cords that ran from the generator into the mouth of the cave.

  But today was different: no activity, no noise.

  He decided to ride his horse down a barely perceptible trail towards the canyon floor below. He sensed the nervousness in his horse well before he reached the trailers.

  “Whoa …” he cooed at his horse. But he felt as nervous as his horse did.

  It was late afternoon now. As the sun dipped lower to the west, the shadows stretched all the way across the canyon floor. There were no lights on in either one of the trailers. The generator that sat close to the mouth of the cave was silent.

  “Hello?” Randy called out.

  No answer.

  He rode his horse over to a cottonwood tree and got off. He tied the rope around a low-hanging tree limb and then patted his horse for a moment. His horse snorted and stared at him
with wild eyes, shifting his weight nervously.

  “It’s okay,” Randy whispered to the horse. “I just want to have a look around. Make sure everyone’s okay.”

  Randy walked over to the trailer and knocked on the flimsy aluminum door. He waited for a moment, listening.

  No one answered. No one was coming to the door—he would’ve heard their footsteps inside the trailer if someone was approaching.

  He knocked again. “Hello?”

  Still no answer.

  The thought of entering the trailer crossed his mind, but it was rude to enter someone’s home—even if it was a temporary trailer—without their permission. Navajo prized privacy.

  He looked at the next trailer beyond this one and thought about knocking on that door. No lights had come on in either trailer since he had been pounding on the door. He glanced over at the line of vehicles a hundred yards away, past a field of juniper and sagebrush that dotted the sand and hard-packed dirt. There were four vehicles parked there, all trucks of some kind. There seemed to be a space where a truck had been parked before, but now it was gone. Maybe all of the scientists had left.

  In one vehicle? And with their generator and a lot of other equipment left behind?

  That didn’t make any sense.

  Randy looked at the second trailer again. He walked towards that door and knocked on it. Still no answer. No lights coming on inside.

  He was about to walk back to his horse, but then he froze when he saw something in the dirt about thirty yards away near the edge of the brush. He walked over there and stood still for a moment, staring down at a large dark stain on the sand. It was dried blood. A lot of it.

  Something had happened here … something bad.

  Randy hurried back to his horse and pulled his flashlight out of his saddle bag. He turned the flashlight on and shined it back at the two dark trailers. The sky was still blue above him, but the shadows seemed to have darkened even more down here on the canyon floor. He pointed the flashlight beam towards the crack in the canyon wall … at the mouth of the cave.