Charlie’s hand flew to his gun. He pulled it from its holster and raised the weapon.
The creature hauled itself upright on wasted legs and stood blocking the passage ahead of them. Charlie aimed his service weapon but didn’t fire. He had no idea how fragile the tunnel was and didn’t want to bring it down on top of them. Besides, the creature wasn’t advancing. It was just standing there. Charlie had the strange sensation that it wasn’t afraid. In fact, just the opposite. It was confident they would become its next victims.
Charlie’s eyes flicked from the impossibly animated skeletal figure down to Sasha. She was obviously dead. Her arms hung limp at her sides, and she didn’t appear to be breathing. But that wasn’t how Charlie knew Sasha was gone. The creature had flayed her stomach open and tore the skin back like so much thin fabric, before discarding her innards next to the body in a bloody heap. Charlie had attended many homicides. He’d seen gunshots and stab victims. He’d witnessed strangulation and drowning. But he had never seen a body wrecked this violently. It was almost too much to bear.
He lifted his eyes from the shattered corpse just in time to see Colbeck shamble past him toward the monstrous creature. And tagging along behind, like a dutiful pet, was Enrique.
“What are you doing,” Charlie hissed.
Neither man answered. They were looking straight ahead, their eyes locked upon the withered husk that had so violently dispatched their co-worker.
“For the love of God…” Charlie reached out and gripped the man’s arm, but Colbeck shrugged the restraining hand off and kept going.
And then Charlie noticed the creature’s face, and the blood-red eyes set into sunken dark sockets. Eyes that glowed with an inner luminescence that held him in a hypnotic fog and filled his mind with suggestive whispers to come closer. With some effort, Charlie shook off the strange sensation. But it took all his willpower. He wondered what would happen if the creature diverted its attention and actually met his gaze. Would he still be able to escape its pull?
He didn’t want to find out.
Deciding that a tunnel collapse was a risk he was willing to take, Charlie lifted the gun, took aim, and fired four shots in rapid succession.
Chapter Eleven
All four of Charlie’s bullets slammed into the skeletal creature, knocking it backwards into the darkness. He couldn’t tell if he’d inflicted a mortal wound, or even if the hellish animated corpse could die, but his rapid-fire shots achieved one thing. They broke whatever hypnotic connection the creature held upon the two rescue team members. The men stopped their forward march, looking momentarily dazed, then hurried back toward Charlie.
“We have to leave, right now.” Charlie kept the gun aimed forward. He swept his flashlight across the tunnel ahead, but the passageway was empty. Their attacker had retreated further into the tunnels, at least for now.
“Not without Sasha,” Enrique said. He ran to her and kneeled down, checking her vitals, even though she was obviously deceased.
“Leave her,” Colbeck instructed. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“He’s right.” Charlie didn’t know where the creature had gone, or how long it would stay away. He knew one thing. They might not be lucky enough to fend it off a second time. “She’s dead.”
“I’m not leaving Sasha down here with that thing.” Enrique slipped his arms under her body and lifted. “I’ll carry her out. She deserves nothing less.”
“Do whatever you need to,” Colbeck said, glancing nervously down the tunnel. “But if she slows us down—”
“She won’t.” Enrique grunted under Sasha’s weight as he stood up. He cradled her in his arms, ignoring the blood that stained his jacket. With noticeable effort, he started down the tunnel back toward the mine entrance.
They retraced their steps, following the serpentine route back to the site of the original attack, then turned and followed the adit toward the mine entrance. The ground rose gently as they walked, carrying them closer to the exit, and safety.
No one spoke, either too shocked to talk, or afraid that any sound might draw their attacker back toward them. Charlie brought up the rear, ready to use his gun again if the creature appeared a second time. He couldn’t explain how he knew it, but he was certain there would be only a momentary window within which to fire before he succumbed to its hypnotic gaze. But they weren’t being followed, and soon, much to his relief, Charlie saw a rectangular patch of daylight up ahead.
They pressed on with renewed determination, even though Enrique was sagging visibly under his dead friend’s weight. A few minutes later, they emerged from the mine and into the bright, warming Nevada sunshine.
Enrique stumbled forward and dropped to his knees ten feet from the mine entrance. He deposited Sasha on the hard ground, then scooted out of the way for the paramedics, who scrambled into action at his approach.
“What happened in there?” Glenn had been sitting on a large rock near the entrance, fanning himself with his hard hat, and jumped up as they exited the mine. Now he approached Charlie, a look of shock on his face. “Did she fall?”
“We were attacked.” Charlie turned to face the mine with his gun raised. If there was even a hint of movement in the darkness beyond the entrance, he would be ready. “Probably the same creature that killed those two geologists.”
“Creature?” Glenn looked at the dead woman, then glanced back toward the mine. “Seriously? That guy back in town was telling the truth?”
Charlie glanced over his shoulder. The paramedics were working on Sasha, even though they surely realized their efforts were futile. “I think we can safely rule him out as a suspect. I don’t know exactly what attacked us, but I shot it four times at close range and barely phased it.”
“That’s not possible. You put four bullets in a man, he doesn’t walk away.”
“I never said it was a man.” An image of the emaciated corpse flashed through Charlie’s mind. The way it walked, lurching forward on impossibly thin limbs. The way its eyes burned with unholy fire. Worst of all was the creaking, shuffling sound it made, like joints popping and shifting with each step. He shuddered and pushed the dire memory away. “It might have once been a man, but right now, that thing is about as far from human as you can get.”
“You’re not making sense. You sure you didn’t stumble into a pocket of stale air and inhale too many fumes?”
Charlie pointed to Sasha. “Does that woman look like she was killed by fumes?”
“Hey. I’m just saying—”
“What we saw in that mine was no man.” Charlie felt a flash of anger. “I was there. You weren’t.”
“Okay. Take it easy. I believe you.” From the tone of Glenn’s voice, he still wasn’t convinced. “Creature or not, we still have two missing people in there. How do you want to proceed?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never encountered a situation like this before,” Charlie replied. There was no way he was walking back into the mine anytime soon, that much he knew. He watched the paramedics unfold a rescue stretcher and lift Sasha’s body onto it. A few steps away, Ryan Colbeck and Enrique lingered in shocked silence. He guessed their colleague’s death was sinking in now the adrenaline had worn off. He looked back toward the mine entrance. “Either way, we have to call it in. Maybe we can get someone up here who knows more about this kind of thing.”
“Who would that be?” Glenn looked incredulous.
“Beats me,” Charlie admitted. “We’ll make our report and pass it up the chain.”
The paramedics had finished strapping Sasha’s body to the stretcher. They hoisted it between them and started off back down the path toward the old ghost town.
Charlie waited for the two remaining members of the search and rescue team to tag along behind, then followed up the rear with his partner, casting nervous glances back toward the mine. When they were far enough away that he could no longer see the yawning black hole in the mountainside, Charlie slipped the gun back into its holster, but even so
he kept a hand on it, ready to draw should the need arise.
“You going to tell dispatch what you told me?” Glenn asked as they made their way down the narrow trail.
“Not much choice. It’s the truth.”
“Good luck getting them to take you seriously.” Glenn wiped a sheen of the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m your partner. I know you wouldn’t invent a crazy story like this, and I’m still not sure I believe it.”
“I know,” Charlie said. He didn’t need to be told how crazy his story sounded. He tapped the body cam affixed to his torso. “But I have proof. My camera was rolling the whole time.”
“I don’t know, it’s pretty dark in those tunnels. What if it didn’t record anything but blackness.”
Charlie nodded toward Colbeck and Enrique. “Then I have two witnesses to back me up.”
“Let’s hope that’s enough.”
“It will have to be.” Charlie was feeling better the further they walked down the trail. Soon this would be someone else’s mess, and he could try and forget what he’d seen in the Ghost Canyon Mine. The problem was, he didn’t think he would.
Chapter Twelve
Robyn Miller observed the commotion on her property with growing dread. A third person had lost their life inside the mine. A member of the search team. And by all accounts it was violent. There really was something up there, although the cops had been tightlipped about exactly what.
Robyn felt bad about the death. It was dreadful, of course. Yet she couldn’t help wondering how this would affect the future of the business she was trying to build here. Who in their right mind would want to take a tour in a mine linked to such a recent and horrific tragedy? It was hardly a fun day out when all anyone could think about were the number of deaths that had occurred there. Not that anyone would be going anywhere near that mine in the immediate future. After the cops returned from the mine, a whole bunch of people showed up in a variety of vehicles. There was even a SWAT team who actually drove their armored truck up the trail. No mean feat, since the path wasn’t wide enough for a regular car, let alone a hulking tactical assault vehicle.
She was confined to the hotel’s saloon bar for most of the evening, along with the surviving geologist, Carlton, and Tieg. The dog sat at her feet looking bewildered as a parade of officials came and went, asking questions, taking the opportunity to confer under air conditioning, and occasionally helping themselves to tall glasses of iced tea from jugs she’d put out on the bar top. It was during one of these frequent refreshment visits that she overheard a couple of senior police officials discussing their next move. The SWAT team were going to enter the mine, even though it was getting dark. The buzz of activity increased in anticipation of this event. There was even a helicopter circling overhead. At first she thought it was a police chopper monitoring the action on the ground, but then she spotted the logo emblazoned on the side as it made a low pass over the town. The local news station. Her heart fell. This would be plastered all over Channel 10 by midnight.
Then, in no time at all, the mood changed.
Two men in khaki pants and matching white polos showed up like a pair of escapees from some golf tournament. They arrived in an unmarked sedan so dull that it screamed government. This pissed off the cluster of LVMPD captains and lieutenants, at least judging by the heated exchange that started in the hotel lobby and then spilled into the saloon. Maybe they felt their toes were being stepped on, or maybe they just didn’t like the newcomers, who were obviously Feds. Either way, the dynamics of the situation shifted. Within thirty minutes the SWAT vehicle was back, recalled before the heavily armed team even entered the mine.
A couple of uniformed officers erected A-frame barricades across the entrance to the trail and stuck a sign in the dirt which read, AREA CLOSED, and in smaller lettering underneath, BY ORDER OF LVMPD.
After that, the police activity subsided. Cruisers and unmarked vehicles pulled U-turns in the street and headed back toward the city. It felt like an exodus, which was weird because they still had not found the two missing geologists, and if anyone knew what was attacking people in the mine, they weren’t saying.
Pretty soon there were only a couple of vehicles left. A lone police cruiser was parked near the barricades with a bored officer staring out across the dusty landscape at the mostly dark ramshackle buildings. He was obviously on guard duty even though there was no-one around except her and Carlton to even attempt a trip up to the mine. And the two Feds, of course.
They parked their car out front in the spot previously occupied by the geologist’s quad cab, which the police department had towed away a couple of hours earlier after bundling the traumatized geologist into the back of an ambulance.
The Feds themselves were standing on the wide veranda out front. One of them leaned on the railing and stared toward the trail leading to the Ghost Canyon Mine, while the other paced back and forth talking on his phone. Afterward, he slipped the phone into his pants pocket and made his way inside with his partner a few steps behind.
When they approached Robyn, Tieg jumped up and ran to greet them, tail wagging. The dog was, Robyn thought, a better ambassador for the ghost town than Carlton, and certainly more friendly.
One of the Feds, the younger of the two, kneeled and petted the dog, rubbing his head and scratching behind his ears. Tieg grinned and his tongue lolled out.
The other agent only gave the dog a cursory glance and then spoke to Robyn. “I’m Special Agent Elton Fowler with the FBI’s Las Vegas field office. My partner over there, the one practicing his interrogation techniques on your dog, is Special Agent Jackson Barnes.”
“Hello, Special Agent Fowler,” Robyn said. She was sitting at a table near the bar and motioned to an empty seat. “Won’t you sit down?”
“No, thank you.” Fowler shook his head. “I prefer to stand.”
“Okay.” Robyn resisted the urge to stand up, even though she was uncomfortable with the agent standing over her in such close proximity. She wondered if he really wanted to remain standing, or if it was a way to assert his authority. She’d once read an article about the CEO of a large corporation wanting an office chair that raised higher than the other chairs in the room so that it would force his employees to look up to him, which would instill in them a feeling of subservience. Was Agent Fowler doing the same thing, possibly subconsciously, or did he just dislike being comfortable? “Is there something I can help you with, Agent Fowler?”
“Yes, indeed.” The FBI agent reached up and straightened his collar, even though it wasn’t out of place. “As I understand it, you have rooms available.”
“I do have rooms, yes, but we’re not open yet. We probably won’t be accepting reservations until the spring.”
The other agent had finished playing with the dog. He stood and approached them. Fowler waited for his partner before speaking again. “But you do have renovated rooms that will be suitable for habitation.”
Habitation? Robyn thought. It was an odd turn of phrase. Even so, she nodded. “We’ve finished the renovations on most of the second floor. Why?”
“Excellent. Agent Barnes and I would like to procure two such rooms for our use while we investigate. Unless you object, of course, in which case we shall make alternate arrangements.”
“No, it’s fine.” Robyn wasn’t sure what to think, but she had to admit, having a couple of armed FBI agents on the property after what had occurred today would not be the worst thing in the world. “I can put fresh sheets on the beds. I have to warn you though, it still smells of paint up there.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Fowler said. “And of course, the FBI will reimburse you for the nights we’re here.”
“Also, as I’m sure you can see, the bar and restaurant are not yet open, but we have plenty of food and I’m more than happy to whip up meals should you require them. It will give us a chance to practice before we open to the public. Kind of like a dry run.”
“In that ca
se we will take you up on that offer,” Fowler replied.
Robyn nodded. She stood up and called to Tieg. “I’ll take care of those sheets right now. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the bar if you’d like a drink.”
“Thank you, but not while we’re on duty.” Fowler paused, then spoke again. “And if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could make up a third room, too.”
“Another FBI agent?” Robyn asked over her shoulder as she headed toward the door with the dog at her heels.
“Not quite,” Fowler said. “The situation here is rather unique, so my superiors called in a favor. We have a specialist on the way. Someone who’s dealt with this kind of thing before.”
Chapter Thirteen
Decker’s accommodation was a well-appointed room on the third floor of the mansion overlooking the bay. This space, unlike the one Grendel was being kept in many levels below, could legitimately be called a suite. Decker didn’t know how many people worked at the facility, but he estimated there were at least fifty rooms if you counted both the mansion and a newer wing on the east side of the property.
After a light supper in the canteen, he retreated upstairs and called Nancy. It was late, almost 11 o’clock, but they talked for an hour. Taylor was not far down the coast, attending college in Boston, and Nancy had toyed with the idea of traveling up with Decker and visiting her daughter while he continued on to Maine. But the plan had not come to fruition. Taylor hadn’t been in school long, and they decided to give her some space since Christmas was less than two months away and she would be returning home for the holidays. Even so, Decker sensed a tinge of sadness in her voice, and he wondered if she regretted not making the arrangements. Nancy had been struggling to readjust ever since the events in Wolf Haven, and Decker felt helpless to resolve the situation. When she hung up, he climbed in bed and lay there for a long while, thinking.
Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) Page 6
