by Mark Lukens
Stella and Joe looked at Cole, and then Stella looked to Joe for the answer.
“I have been preparing,” Joe said. “I have been praying very hard as I performed The Enemy Way ceremony. I know that I must give David a crash course in medicine.” He looked at Stella. “You said he wrote down symbols … ancient writing.”
“Yes,” Stella answered. “I don’t have the notebook with me; it burned up in the cabin. But I recognized the symbols as the written language of the Anasazi—they were the same symbols I saw on the tablets that Jake and I got from the dig site, buried deep in that cave where we found a city buried inside.”
Joe huffed in disappointment. He looked away like he was in deep thought for a moment. And then he looked back at Stella. “Have you ever asked yourself why David showed up to you where he did? Why he came all the way to your dig site?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Joe Blackhorn’s trailer
“Of course I’ve wondered why he came there,” Stella answered. “I never knew how he found us or why. I never knew where he came from. He would barely talk to me. I figured something traumatic had happened to him. Maybe a car accident or something. Like I told you earlier, we sent a man named Jim Whitefeather to go for help … but he came back as a messenger for the Ancient Enemy, asking for things from us. Later, David eventually told me that his parents weren’t here anymore and I assumed they were dead, only by then I knew their deaths hadn’t been an accident … the Ancient Enemy had gotten them. I could never get much more out of David. But now you say he lived with his parents in Iron Springs. I know where that is, and it’s pretty far away from the dig site. A lot of treacherous walking to get to us.”
Joe nodded solemnly. “Yes. And David didn’t seek out help in Iron Springs, or at any of the ranches along the way. He went straight to you … or I should say straight to the dig site.”
It was dawning on Stella suddenly. “The dig site … he was drawn to it.”
“I believe so,” Joe said. “Whether he ever realized it or not, I think it was a place of safety for him.”
“And this dig site is where you found samples of the Anasazi writing,” Cole said.
“Yes,” Stella answered, the word coming out as a whisper as she thought back to it. “It was a huge discovery; the first collection of writings from the Anasazi culture. If those writings could be deciphered, then the story of the Anasazi could finally be told, perhaps even the mystery of why they had abandoned so many cities finally solved. Finding those writings was like finding the hieroglyphics in the Egyptian ruins.”
“And David wrote some of those symbols down in that notebook in the cabin,” Cole said, obviously going somewhere with this line of questioning.
“Yes,” Stella said.
“Then maybe David saw those symbols at the dig site. Maybe he copied down what he’d seen at the dig site in the notebook at the cabin.”
Stella shook her head, already dismissing that idea. “No, that couldn’t be possible. Those symbols he drew in that notebook were perfect copies of the Anasazi writings. No way he could’ve copied them so perfectly.”
“Maybe David’s a savant,” Cole said. “Possibly autistic. He shows the signs.”
“He also shows the signs of a traumatized child,” Stella argued. “And his behavior’s changing. He’s opening up to us now, talking more, relating more. He could be autistic, I don’t know, but as far as the writing, we hadn’t even taken most of the evidence out of the cave yet. And David had never even been in that cave.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Stella snapped. “I was leaving the cave when I found him so I know he’d never gone in there.”
“Unless he snuck inside the cave in the middle of the night.”
Stella already knew where Cole was going with this. David had left the cabin in the middle of the night when the electricity went out. “We never found him outside at the dig site like we did at the cabin,” she said, but then she thought of the night she left. She thought about David being outside the trailer, staring at the cave in the distance. Had she told them about that?
Joe sipped his tea, watching them silently.
Stella looked at Joe as an idea occurred to her.
He stared at her and raised his eyebrows like he’d been patiently waiting for her to reach the obvious conclusion.
“We need to go back to the dig site, don’t we?” she asked.
Joe just stared at her for a moment. “Or another place like it.”
Stella felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. Was there another place like the dig site at the cave? Another Anasazi city waiting to be discovered.
“There’s a sacred place not too far from here. It’s one of the reasons I chose to live here.”
“And we need to go there, don’t we?” Cole said.
Joe nodded again. “I think there are many places on Earth where the barrier is weak … hot spots, if you will … and this place is one of them.”
Thoughts swirled through Stella’s mind. There was another place like the dig site? “Is it an Anasazi ruin?”
Joe sipped his tea again. “Most Navajo don’t go near this place, mostly out of superstition and fear, and many don’t go near it out of reverence. Like I said, it’s a sacred place. It’s a place that must be left alone.”
Stella felt the sting of his words. She could interpret what he meant—he and other Navajo didn’t want this place scoured by scientists.
“Of course,” Stella told him, but she couldn’t help wondering what secrets and discoveries were hidden there. But she refused to pester Joe about it—he wasn’t going to give explanations until he was ready, she had already seen evidence of that.
“Where is this place? You said it wasn’t too far away.”
“A few hours away,” Joe said. “We can get there by horse or four wheelers.”
“So what are we going to do … use David as bait?” Cole asked, clearly disgusted.
Joe shook his head slowly. “No. We will be using ourselves as the bait. It can’t attack David, it can’t kill David, so it will go after one of us.”
They were all silent for a moment.
“I will prepare us as much as possible,” Joe told them. “But only so much can be done in such a short time against a powerful chindi like the Darkwind.”
Joe stood up. “We should get some sleep for a few hours. Rest our bodies and minds, build up our strength. We will need it. When the sun is up, I will begin working with David.” He walked over to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a spiral bound notebook similar to the one David had written on in the cabin. He found a ballpoint pen in the drawer and brought both items to the table. “First, David will need to draw those symbols again, that same ancient writing he wrote down before. As much as he can remember.”
Stella nodded.
Joe left the kitchen. “I’ll get us some blankets,” he said over his shoulder.
Stella and Cole looked at each other as the wind howled even harder outside the trailer.
PART IV
WEDNESDAY
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Captain Begay’s house
Special Agent Palmer woke up from the nightmare even before the sun was up. It was the same dream as before. He was back in that warehouse, or building, or whatever it was, that seemed to go on forever. Something was chasing him, something that constantly changed form, some shadowy monster. But it wasn’t a mindless monster—it was smarter than he was, anticipating his every move … and he knew he wasn’t going to get away from this monster.
He’d never had nightmares like this one before in his life and he felt a little queasy as he sat there on the side of the bed. But at the same time the thing in his dream seemed familiar somehow, like he had encountered it many times before, like he had seen it several times throughout his life, just glimpses really, but he hadn’t remembered it until now. And now all of those memories were crashing back onto him.
That thing
in his dream meant to kill him and it would never stop chasing him. He still felt that sense of hopelessness left over from the dream, the hopelessness of ever escaping it. That thing was everywhere … it could come into our world anytime it wanted to. And in the dream Palmer knew all of this; he understood it all and how everything fit together.
A shiver ran across his flesh like the dancing legs of a thousand spiders.
Where had that thought come from? He hated spiders.
Palmer sat there on the edge of the bed for a moment longer in Captain Begay’s home … in Begay’s daughter’s old room. Even though Begay and his wife had turned their daughter’s bedroom into a guestroom after she left for college, the bedroom still felt somewhat like Begay’s daughter lived there. It had the feel of so many bedrooms that Palmer had seen over the years, museums to missing or dead children.
He wore only his underwear and white T-shirt. His dark suit was folded up neatly on the chair across the room, his suitcoat and overcoat hanging up in the small closet. His ID and badge, cell phone, service pistol and shoulder holster, and a pint of vodka were on the nightstand next to the bed. His duffel bag was on the floor across the room, still opened up and exactly where he had dropped it last night.
After a sip of the vodka, Palmer sat there for a moment longer. The dream was already fading away and his mind was turning to this case he was working on—the strangest case he had ever been assigned to.
He thought of Begay’s “raid” on the property last night. They had been tricked, set up by someone, and Palmer had a feeling Begay knew who it was.
Palmer got up and got dressed in the darkness. He slid his shoulder holster on, and then slipped his service pistol down into the holster; it was a reassuring weight against his body. He stuffed his cell phone down into the leather pouch on his belt. He hid the vodka bottle down in his duffel bag after one last swig and then he grabbed his travel case with his deodorant, mouthwash, shaving cream, razor, toothpaste, and toothbrush inside. He left the room to use the bathroom in the hall.
The house was still dark and quiet; the only sound was the humming of the heat through the ducts in the ceiling. Palmer slipped inside the bathroom, closed the door and locked it.
After using the bathroom, Palmer went back to his room and slipped his suitcoat on. He grabbed his overcoat and duffel bag and walked back down the hall to the living room and kitchen.
Like the last time he had stayed here, Captain Begay’s wife Angie was up and moving around in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee and slightly burnt sausage hung in the air.
“I made a plate for you,” Angie said and stared at Palmer for a moment.
He knew she wasn’t going to let him turn down breakfast a second time, so he sat down at the table. “Thank you.”
“The captain’s still getting dressed,” she said as she set a plate full of scrambled eggs, sausage, and fried potatoes down in front of him. “Salt and pepper is on the table. There’s hot sauce or ketchup if you need it.”
“No, this will be fine,” he said and smiled at her.
Begay entered the kitchen dressed in a long-sleeved flannel shirt, a pair of faded blue jeans, and a pair of worn hiking boots. Apparently Begay was figuring on outdoor work today.
“Sleep well?” Begay asked Palmer.
“Like a baby,” Palmer lied.
Angie set a plate of food down on the table in front of Begay and then she set a plate of toast in between the two men. Begay buttered his toast carefully and then slathered it with the homemade jam.
Palmer watched the big man eat for a moment. Where Palmer was indifferent to food, he could tell that Captain Begay took pleasure in it and that he had particular tastes and rituals when it came to eating.
“What’s the agenda for today?” Palmer asked after shoveling another bite of food into his mouth.
Begay shrugged as he ate. “Keep searching for your fugitives.”
Palmer sensed that the captain’s plans didn’t include him, but he wasn’t going to be brushed off that easily.
Begay chewed his food slowly and looked at Palmer. “You still have to stay here?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes,” Palmer answered. Another lie. Cardenelli wasn’t very happy about Palmer abandoning the crime scene in Colorado closer to his own territory, but Palmer wasn’t going to give up this collar to Klein so he could screw everything up. And he wasn’t going to let a murder suspect (or suspects if Stella turned out to be involved in all of this somehow) over to Begay—and Begay knew it, so it didn’t need to be said. Threats didn’t need to be made right now, especially not in front of the man’s wife. He hoped they could keep things civil.
“Any leads?” Palmer asked as he ate another bite of his breakfast. It was his way of asking the same question: What were they going to do next?
Begay wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t letting it show. Palmer could tell that Angie sensed the unease and tension in her husband, but Palmer didn’t care if he was hurting anyone’s feelings or stepping on anyone’s toes—he’d learned over the last few decades to be a single-minded machine when it came to searching for criminals and solving crimes.
“We’re going to find Billy Nez,” Begay said as he took another bite of his food.
“Who’s that? Someone hiding from you?”
“He was the one with Alice when they talked to Stella and David.”
“How do you know that? You talked to him?”
“Someone I know saw them all at a diner together. Someone who owes me a favor.”
“Good,” Palmer said. “I’m going with you.”
Begay didn’t argue. Palmer could remind Begay that he had let him tag along to the crime scene at John and Deena’s house, but he didn’t say anything.
Palmer got up to take his plate to the sink, but Angie swooped in and intercepted him like she’d been waiting for him to make a move to clean up. “I’ll take that,” she said with a forced smile.
“Thank you, Angie. That was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.”
She nodded and the smile on her face never wavered. “Thank you, Agent Palmer.”
Palmer looked at Begay who wasn’t hurrying through his breakfast. “I’ll wait for you outside. I have a few phone calls to make.”
Begay nodded but he gave him a “whatever” look with his eyes.
Palmer got his coat and duffel bag and went out through the front door.
• • •
After Agent Palmer went outside, Begay continued eating his breakfast. He enjoyed his wife’s cooking, it was one of the great pleasures of his day, and he wasn’t going to let the sour FBI agent ruin his breakfast.
He wasn’t too happy about Palmer riding with him all day, but he couldn’t exactly kick him out on his own. This was an FBI investigation now whether he liked it or not and it was best to play ball up to a point. Besides, working with Palmer was much better than working with Klein.
Begay stopped eating. He could feel the weight of his wife’s stare on him. He looked at her. She stood by the stove, watching him. She looked a little nervous, holding her hands in front of her, rubbing them; it seemed like the winter weather was affecting her arthritis again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I don’t feel good about this.”
“I’m just going to track down Billy and find out what he knows.”
She sighed and shook her head slightly. “You know what I mean,” she whispered as if Palmer might somehow overhear her from outside.
He knew exactly what she meant. Angie was a believer in all things mystical, and Begay had to admit that she had a gift of some sort. She’d predicted things plenty of times before with an uncanny ability and a spooky accuracy. Even though he wanted to brush off her fears right now, he knew he had to respect them and listen to whatever warning she had to offer.
“I had a bad dream last night,” Angie said in a low voice.
Begay got up and took his plate to the counter. As good as the breakfast was,
he didn’t think he would be able to finish the last few bites now—he’d suddenly lost his appetite.
“There was this … this thing in my dream,” Angie said. “It was chasing me. And chasing other people. It looked a little like a shadow, constantly changing and moving, but it wasn’t a shadow. It was real … it was all of the evil in the world rolled up into this black form.”
Begay laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder, a gentle touch.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Begay said.
“Not just for you,” Angie said and her dark eyes flicked to the front door in the living room. “For him, too.”
Begay nodded and exhaled a long breath. “We’ll be careful,” he said. “But I have to go. It’s my job. It’s his job too.”
Angie bit her lip and forced a smile, but Begay saw her lips trembling just a bit. She nodded, indicating that she understood that he had a job to do. “Just be careful,” she whispered.
“It’s my middle name,” he said.
He kissed her, and she grabbed on to him and hugged him tight like he was going away and she might never see him again. That hug, the way she clung to him, scared him a little more than her warnings and bad dreams had.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Captain Begay’s house
Special Agent Palmer stood outside Captain Begay’s house in the cold air. The world was lightening up quickly, the sky such a deep blue already. He walked to his black rental car that he had parked in the strip of gravel beside Begay’s driveway last night. Begay’s giant Ford Bronco was parked in the driveway right behind Angie’s car.
As he walked to his car Palmer dialed Agent Klein’s number to get an update from him.
Agent Klein was at the dig site already.
“Some group of scientists are here,” Klein said on the phone. “They’ve been here since last night, poking around everywhere. They’re calling this dig site one of the greatest finds in the last fifty years. Definitely in this century so far, they said. I’m constantly beating these guys back away from the cave like flies off shit. I don’t know how many times I need to tell these bozos that this is still a crime scene. I don’t care if they found Amelia-fucking-Earhart’s airplane in there.”
