Ancient Enemy Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Lukens, Mark

  She snapped awake and lay there in bed for a while. After Cole had finally fallen into a deep sleep, Stella eased out of bed and left the room. Her back was hurting a little from lying in bed too long, she needed to get up and move around. Her muscles had that achy feeling she got when she didn’t get a good night’s sleep. She was still tired but not too groggy; in fact, her mind was overly active right now, but she couldn’t keep tossing and turning in bed, keeping Cole awake. He needed his sleep, too.

  It felt better to be awake and moving through their dark home. She turned on a light in the kitchen and started some coffee. The tile floor was cool on her feet and everything was quiet, with only the buzz of the night insects outside.

  As she stood there she began to believe that Cole was right about what she’d seen in the jungle. At best it had been her imagination; at worst it was someone stalking them, perhaps planning to rob them. But she was beginning to believe more and more that it hadn’t been Jim Whitefeather standing in the jungle; it had been some kind of hallucination.

  Again, she felt like all of her recovery had been set back to nearly the beginning. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so afraid of the Ancient Enemy again. Their first year down here had been horrible, she’d felt like a junkie fighting through withdrawals. But little by little, day by day, month by month, it had gotten better. Even though she knew that the memories and trauma would always be there, at least she could live a normal life again.

  Still, as a scientist, it bothered her that these fears had come back so strongly and suddenly. Had something triggered it? Maybe being out in the jungle and so far from civilization had triggered it. But no, she’d been doing that for over a year now. And she hadn’t been alone; Maria and the rest of her team had been with her. And she’d had her gun with her.

  Cole’s other theory was that she’d really seen a man in the jungle, and she had projected Jim Whitefeather’s image onto that man. Perhaps when something startling happened, her mind went instantly to the worst trauma she’d ever suffered—the Ancient Enemy. Cole was still worried that some men were stalking their dig site and planning to rob them. He had Stella so worried about it yesterday afternoon that she had called Maria to make sure she was okay. She’d gotten no answer from Maria so she left her a message on her voicemail. She would call her again soon.

  Somebody poking around to rob them wasn’t good, but it was a natural danger, one they could fight. It was still much better than the Ancient Enemy being back.

  The coffee was ready. She just wanted to drink a few sips of hot coffee and try to relax, think about things rationally. What she’d seen in the jungle had just been a—

  Stella’s heart jumped, her eyes darting to the kitchen window. Something had moved out there, a shadow racing by. She swatted at the light switch, turning the kitchen light off and plunging the room into darkness. She opened a bottom drawer and pulled out a 9mm that Cole kept in there. Her heart was still pounding and she could barely catch her breath.

  No noises from outside now. She crept to the kitchen window over the sink and looked out onto the side yard. There was a path beside their house and then a wall of jungle beyond that. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness again, but she couldn’t see anyone moving around out there.

  The doors and windows were all locked; she and Cole had checked all of them several times before going to bed.

  But the Ancient Enemy can still get in if it wants to, her mind whispered. She felt a panicky vulnerability because David wasn’t here. David had been the only one who could protect them, and she had also gained strength from protecting him, a mother’s courage. Now she and Cole were vulnerable, there was nothing to stop the Ancient Enemy and whatever horrors it was bringing.

  She needed to calm down and try to think rationally again. There was nothing outside that she could see. The movement in the kitchen window could have been a reflection of her movement in the kitchen, something she’d caught out of the corner of her eye. She was still more tired than she wanted to admit even though she felt wide awake right now.

  Little by little she began to relax. She was just jumpy and she had worked herself up into a near-frenzy. She would drink a little coffee, maybe even stay up until dawn.

  Stella jumped and spun away from the window. There was a noise in the living room; it was a thumping sound like someone had just bumped into the coffee table. She imagined Jim Whitefeather in their living room, his body badly decomposed after seven years, but still somehow partially preserved enough by the Ancient Enemy. She imagined the dead man stumbling around, feeling his way along because his eyes had been gouged out so long ago.

  Gripping the gun’s handle tightly, Stella had no choice but to go into the living room. Cole was in the bedroom and the only way to get to him was through the living room. It was still too dark in the house. If there was an intruder in the house, or if it really was the Ancient Enemy, then they knew she was in the kitchen right now. She needed to turn on a light—she couldn’t be in the dark.

  On her way to the living room, Stella flipped on the overhead light in the kitchen and then the one on the ceiling fan in the living room. She rushed into the living room, gun aimed, her finger on the trigger.

  And then she froze.

  Cole sat in the recliner.

  Stella’s breath came out in a rushing exhale, her body suddenly weak. The gun felt like a cinderblock in her hand and she dropped it down to her side.

  Oh my God, what am I doing? I could have shot him.

  “Cole,” she whispered.

  He stared at her from the chair, hunched forward, his brow hiding his eyes in shadows, but she could tell he was staring at her. Maybe he was shocked because she had rushed into the living room with a gun aimed at him. But if he was angry, he wasn’t showing it. His face seemed blank, devoid of all emotion.

  I could have shot him. What’s wrong with me?

  Stella set the gun down on a bureau next to the wall, the thud of the gun against the piece of furniture loud in the silence. “Are you okay?”

  Cole nodded. His eyes were half-closed now. Maybe he was still half-asleep. He had probably woken up and realized that she wasn’t in bed with him and he’d come out here to look for her.

  “Are you cold?” she asked, taking a step towards him. It wasn’t cold at all in the house but he looked like he was shivering.

  He nodded. But he looked more than cold, he looked sick. She hoped he wasn’t coming down with some kind of tropical flu. They’d been pretty lucky so far with their health. And if he was sick with something, there was a good chance she had brought it back with her from the jungle.

  Maybe she was also sick. She felt like she was burning up with a fever, her skin hot and clammy. Maybe hallucinations were a symptom of this sickness. And paranoia.

  “You want to go back to bed?” she asked him. “Get under a blanket?”

  He shook his head no.

  “I’ll get a blanket for you,” she told him.

  He didn’t answer.

  She knew she should have gone to him and comforted him, maybe she should have felt his forehead for a fever. But for some reason she didn’t want to be near him, and getting the blanket for him was an excuse to be away from that dead stare of his. She told herself that she was embarrassed because she had aimed a gun at him, but it was more than that. There seemed to be something wrong with him, something more than a fever.

  A thought struck her when she was halfway down the hall to their bedroom—Cole hadn’t spoken a word to her. Cole wasn’t himself. She stopped in the middle of the hallway. It was dark, but the light from the living room was providing enough light for her to see that their bedroom door was almost all the way closed. Why would Cole leave their bedroom and close the door? He’d never done that before.

  What if that wasn’t Cole out there in the living room anymore? What if the Ancient Enemy had gotten inside the house while she’d been looking out the kitchen window? What if the shadow moving outside had been a distractio
n so the Ancient Enemy could get to Cole, get inside of him? The Ancient Enemy had used distractions at the dig site and at the cabin; maybe it had used one here.

  She’d left the gun out in the living room, but Cole had more guns in the bedroom. His handgun was in there. She slipped into the bedroom and closed the door, locking it. She would get another gun and go back to the living room. She would talk to Cole. She would make him answer her, make sure it was really him.

  She was about to turn on the light so she could see. She didn’t want to be in the dark right now. But then she stopped. She heard something behind her, a heavy breathing sound coming from the bed.

  It’s here . . . it’s already in here . . .

  Stella slapped at the light switch, trying to find it, trying to turn it on. She realized now that she had made a terrible mistake. She never should have left Cole in the living room. She never should have put the gun down.

  Something was grabbing her in the darkness, trying to pull her deeper into the room. She tried to fight back but it was too strong.

  CHAPTER 13

  Cole

  Costa Rica

  “Stella!”

  She wasn’t answering him.

  He turned on the bedroom light, flipping the switch on. He held her arm with his other hand, but she was still fighting him. Her eyes were wide with shock when she saw him in front of her.

  “Stella, what’s wrong?”

  “I . . . I . . .” She looked back at the bedroom door. It was closed.

  “Were you asleep?” he asked. “Dreaming?”

  She shook her head no, but it didn’t look like she was sure about her answer. It didn’t look like she was sure about anything.

  This had happened to both of them before, especially the first year they were down here: night terrors, sleepwalking, paralyzing nightmares, stifled screams while waking up.

  “I was awake,” Stella whispered, still staring at him like she was trying to understand why he was standing right in front of her.

  He suspected she might still be trying to come fully awake.

  “I just saw you in the living room,” she whispered.

  Cole felt a shiver travel through his body. It wasn’t just what she’d said, but that expression of fear on her face.

  He hurried over to his side of the bed and pulled on his pants. He stuffed his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his gun. He went to the door and then looked at Stella—she hadn’t moved an inch. “Is someone out there?”

  She didn’t nod or shake her head no, she just stared at him.

  Cole twisted the doorknob gently. It was locked. Stella had locked the door in her terror. He twisted the lock and then opened the door. He crept down the hall. The lights in the living room and kitchen were on. He stepped out of the hall into the living room, looking around. He didn’t see anyone.

  Stella was right behind him.

  “What did you see?” he asked her.

  “I got up about twenty minutes ago,” she said.

  “Did something wake you up? Did you have a nightmare?”

  “I don’t think so. I . . . I just couldn’t sleep. When you finally fell asleep, I got up. I came out here to make some coffee. And then I thought I saw something moving outside the kitchen window.”

  Cole stopped next to the bureau against the wall. He saw the gun on top of it.

  “I got the gun from the kitchen drawer when I saw something outside the kitchen window,” Stella explained.

  Cole just nodded and entered the kitchen. He could feel Stella right behind him. He checked the door that led out to a screened-in back porch. The door was still locked. He turned off the kitchen light and peered out the window over the sink. He looked back at Stella. “What did you see out there?”

  “I don’t know. It was like a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.”

  “Like a bat?”

  She shook her head no. “It was way bigger than a bat.”

  “But you didn’t see what it was.”

  She shook her head no again.

  “What happened after that?”

  “I heard a noise in the living room, like someone had bumped into a piece of furniture. That’s when I got the gun.”

  He didn’t like the idea of her grabbing a gun while walking in her sleep.

  “I went into the living room and I saw you sitting in the chair. You were in your T-shirt and underwear. Just like when you went to bed. You didn’t say anything. You just stared at me. You looked . . .”

  “Looked like what?”

  “At first I thought you were still half-asleep, but the more I thought about it, you had a blank expression on your face. Emotionless. Like you were dead. Like Frank at the cabin. Like the others the Ancient Enemy sent back.”

  Cole went to her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her. She was trembling. “That wasn’t me,” he whispered. “It was just a bad dream.”

  “You were cold,” she continued into his shoulder. “Shivering. I went to our bedroom to get you a blanket.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he assured her.

  “But then I wondered if the Ancient Enemy was already inside of you, using you, controlling you.”

  Cole pulled away and looked at Stella, staring into her eyes. “Babe, it’s me now. I’m here now. I wasn’t out here earlier. I woke up in our bedroom when you were slapping at the wall, trying to turn on the light.”

  She just stared at him.

  “I think you might have been walking in your sleep.”

  She shook her head no, already dismissing that idea.

  “I know it might have felt real. Remember how many times you walked in your sleep before? When we first got here? Remember that time you punched me in the face? You gave me a bloody nose.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. “I think you got scared in the jungle yesterday at the dig. And I think it has triggered the night terrors again.”

  Stella nodded. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, struggling to hold them back. But she was also beginning to look relieved. He thought his words might be sinking in.

  “I think you should take a few more days off from the dig. Maybe even a week or two.” The thought of men stalking the dig site, possibly planning to rob it, hadn’t left his mind entirely.

  He expected resistance from Stella, but to his surprise she nodded in agreement. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Maria,” she said. “I left her a voicemail, but I wanted to talk to her about it.”

  Cole was glad she was going to take some time off. He had never liked the idea of her going into the jungle, but he had given in because he knew how much she loved the field work. Maybe she hadn’t really seen someone in the jungle, maybe it had just been her imagination triggered by all the talk in town about the eighteen people that had been slaughtered in a village a few days ago.

  “Let’s get a cup of coffee and then we’ll go back to bed. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Or how about some tea? Maybe tea would be better.”

  She shrugged like she didn’t care. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was just . . . it seemed so real.”

  “I know.” He hugged her again, holding her tight.

  This was just a temporary setback, he told himself. They would get through this again. They would get better again.

  Cole started some tea for Stella. Maybe they’d be able to get back to bed soon, but Cole wasn’t so sure he’d be able to go back to sleep. He’d been dreaming when Stella had stormed into the bedroom. He’d been dreaming about the ghost town in Arizona, only it wasn’t a ghost town in the dream—it was the town it had been back in the 1890s, a town called Hope’s End. Nothing scary had happened in the dream, but it had scared him anyway and he wasn’t sure why.

  CHAPTER 14

  Teresa

  Denver, Colorado

  Teresa snapped awake in bed. The bedroom was dark, but moonlight shined in through the upper windows, giving her enough light to see the massive bedroom she shared with her
husband Gary. She looked at him lying on the other side of their king-sized bed. He was in his usual position, on his side, facing away from her. He was breathing heavily, but not snoring.

  She looked back up at the high ceiling, studying the patterns the tree branches and leaves made there in the moonlight, faint patterns that could turn into faces and other things if she stared at them long enough. It was her own private Rorschach inkblot on her ceiling.

  It seemed like something had awakened her, a sound somewhere else in the house maybe. She had checked all of the doors and windows and made sure the security system was on before going to bed. Her ex-husband’s paranoia had gotten to her today and she hated him for it. She didn’t want to admit it to him, but she had been scared when she’d found out Eliza and the kids were leaving town. And she had to admit that her ex-husband’s last name painted in blood on the wall of a crime scene had been pretty creepy.

  Earlier, in the daylight, it had been easier to pass his ravings off as paranoia, but now, in the dark, in the middle of the night, it seemed like all of it could be real. She tried to think rationally as she lay in bed. What were the odds that a serial killer would come to their neighborhood and target this house? Astronomical odds, she guessed. Possible? Yes, but anything was remotely possible. Probable? Not likely. Of course Palmer’s name written on the wall changed things and changed the odds a little.

  She had talked to Eliza earlier, but she hadn’t been able to talk her into staying in her home. Maybe that was a small victory for her ex. But Eliza looked at leaving as an impromptu vacation, a chance to get away with the kids for a while, to spontaneously go somewhere. An adventure.