Bad Land

by Jonathan Yanez

  Diane nodded as she stood on her expensive high heels. “There’s no need. Not much to say. I’m the last living member of my family. I don’t know anything about the family that you’re researching. Everyone died while I was still very young.”

  Diane made the journey to the door in a few steps and was gone before Marshall could say another word. Things were getting weirder and weirder by the minute. There was no doubt that Diane knew and was involved somehow. But how?

  A reckless plan began to form in Marshall’s head as he pushed back his dark hair from his face. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said.

  Chapter 14

  He had sat in his car for just over an hour. His butt was getting sore and he wiggled in his seat, trying to find a comfortable spot, but there was none. No doubt his borrowed car was beautiful, but it wasn’t his, and his rear end knew the difference. The radio was on low and he slouched in the car, waiting for his prey to exit the building.

  Diane Whitmer had to leave the office sooner or later, and the fact that Marshall was driving a different car was perfect for the task of tailing his boss.

  Marshall was parked across the street in the parking lot of a coffee shop as the moon lit the sky and the evening traffic rolled by. His stomach rumbled and Marshall was reminded not only of his need of food but that he was supposed to go grocery shopping and George was probably wondering where he was. Not for the first time Marshall played with the fantasy of being able to hire a personal assistant to do his grocery shopping and run his errands for him, even better if he could somehow train George to go grocery shopping.

  He had a great view of the lot and Diane’s office on the top floor. Although her blinds were drawn he could see the outline of the light in the room. Now he saw that same light disappear. She was leaving her office and in a few minutes would be exiting the building, headed for her car. Marshall slouched even lower in his borrowed car to ensure that Diane wouldn’t see him.

  The seconds ticked by as his radio squealed about what celebrity was divorcing who and which one was in rehab. Marshall ignored all of this as he watched Diane exit the building and walk to her Cadillac. She placed her briefcase inside the car. A moment later she was merging into the light flow of traffic.

  Marshall started his own car and followed suit, pulling onto the street a safe distance from his boss. He always made sure to stay a car or two behind her as he followed. Cars weaved in and out between Marshall and his prey, but he always maintained the same distance. Soon Diane and her yellow shadow left the busy streets of the downtown section and entered a more secluded part of the city.

  The new area was full of large warehouses and storage buildings. Marshall smiled. Before he started the pursuit, he half expected to follow Diane to her home and wait outside all night with nothing to show for it except a rough night’s sleep and an empty stomach. But now as he increased his following distance, he knew that all he had to worry about was an empty stomach.

  Vehicles on the road became fewer and fewer. Marshall followed only as close as he had to so he wouldn’t lose her. Besides the streetlights placed at random down the narrow road, the only light came from the half moon and stars. Marshall was so engrossed in examining his surroundings so he could find the area again on his own that he almost missed seeing Diane pull into a short driveway. The driveway she chose belonged to a small, dilapidated building.

  He quickly pulled over on the side of the road and killed his lights. The building Diane had selected was made of light gray cement walls and had a slanted roof. The building looked like someone had once given some thought about its appearance, but that day was long gone.

  Diane exited her car. Marshall once again slouched low in his seat. His boss looked around, ensuring that no one was in sight, reached into her car and pulled out her briefcase, then shut the door. She looked over her shoulder again.

  Satisfied she was alone, she walked to the rear of the building and disappeared. Marshall jumped out of his car and made a beeline to her Cadillac as fast as his legs would walk. He craned his neck and his eyes were a blur of motion as he too searched for anyone near the premises. He scanned the surrounding buildings and made sure the warehouse he was approaching didn’t have cameras mounted on the walls or any other kind of security measures.

  There was nothing he could see as he reached his boss’ car and crouched behind its large frame. He was here now, wherever here was. And as he poked his head up he wondered how great an idea this really was. If Diane was involved in something to do with Barbara’s death, did he really want to be the one to bring her down? The woman who had done so much for his career? No, that was nothing more than misplaced loyalty. If she was part of this, it was his duty and responsibility to make sure she had her day in court.

  Marshall took a deep breath, and still crouching, ran next to the building following the path he had seen Diane take.

  He pressed himself against the side of the building. It soon revealed a heavy metal door a few yards ahead and high windows that were set just out of his reach. Marshall tiptoed toward the door and placed a firm hand on the cold metal handle. The door didn’t budge. He pressed an ear against the entrance but the metal was too thick to hear anything from the other side.

  Marshall searched the small alley between the side of the building and the stone wall that separated the lot from its neighbors. There were a few old wooden pallets and rusting metal bars on the ground, and two large dark green trash cans.

  An idea formed and Marshall gently ran to a trashcan and wheeled the smelly container to the side of the building. Praying the container would hold him, he climbed on top of the hard plastic, feeling it give just slightly under his weight. With the added height he could see through the high windows into the warehouse. There was a light inside but the window was too dirty to see more. He gently rubbed a sleeved arm on the glass in small circles but it only smudged the window further.

  Frustrated, Marshall squinted through the glass. A large room, some light, but that was all he could see. He would need to get inside the building, otherwise he might as well head back to his uncomfortable seat in Samantha’s car.

  Marshall examined the window. It was old, like the rest of the building. There was rust on the edges and looked like it would give if put under the right amount of pressure. Marshall gritted his teeth and wedged his fingers between the window frame and the warped, rusted window itself. He could feel the window bend slightly as he added more and more pressure.

  The window moved an inch and then an inch more. There was a gentle rubbing sound as Marshall eased the window open. He opened the window just enough to get a look inside.

  The warehouse was one large room. Long lamps hung from the high ceiling and the room was lined with metal shelves filled with all kinds of odds and ends. At first glance, the room looked like Marshall had stumbled across a thrift shop. Marshall did a double take as his eyes landed on a section toward the back that was stacked with swords, knives, axes, and hammers.

  Marshall looked around the room but there was no sign of activity. He stood quiet. He thought he could hear voices—they were soft, barely audible at first. Marshall strained to find where they were coming from, but the rows and rows of odds and ends made it impossible to see. They were coming closer, however, because Marshall could hear them clearer now—it was Diane Whitmer speaking to someone else.

  “And you’re sure of this?”

  “Yes,” another female voice answered, someone Marshall knew but couldn’t place.

  “Well, they have been content to leave me alone thus far.”

  “But for how much longer will they remain content? You don’t need a lecture from me on what they did to the rest of your family.”

  “You’re right,” Diane said. “I don’t.”

  “Well, then, what’s our next course of action?”

  “We haven’t managed to—”

  The plastic trash container Marshall was standing on finally dimpled under his weight
with a loud pop that didn’t throw him off but gave a few inches. Marshall crouched down on the lid, trying to steady himself. He grimaced, wondering if they had heard.

  He knelt for a few seconds, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but there was no noise from inside. Slowly he eased himself up and peeked over the window’s ledge again. He leaned in further. His head and shoulders were inside the warehouse now. He didn’t dare move any further inside or he would really lose his balance on his makeshift ladder.

  A hand shot out from almost underneath him. A strong fist grabbed the hoodie he wore and pulled him through the window, sending him tumbling to the floor.

  Marshall hit the cement floor palms first, sending a shock of pain through his hands, wrists, and arms. He was able to do a kind of half roll that helped pad the rest of his body from the fall. Before could regain his balance, someone was on top of him, pinning him to the harsh cement floor and holding his arms tight behind his back.

  “It was only a matter of time before you found out,” Diane said as she walked toward Marshall. “There is no need for this. Marshall, will you give me your word that you won’t try and run? That you will at the very least give me a chance to explain?”

  “Yes,” Marshall grunted.

  “Please,” Diana said to whoever was on top of him. “Let him up.”

  The hold on his arms and weight on his back was immediately removed. Marshall turned, massaging his arm and shoulder to see who had thrown him from the window and pinned him to the ground. He expected to see a large man, someone who could pass for ex-military or maybe even a bodybuilder. When Marshall saw who it was, his mouth dropped open and all words escaped him.

  Chapter 15

  It was Ann Hansen. But not the Ann Hansen Marshall had grown accustomed to seeing at work. Her horn-rimmed glasses were gone, the sweater vests, long skirts, and cardigans she usually sported where also gone, and in their place was a female he didn’t recognize.

  Ann wore high leather boots with tight fitting jeans and a brown leather jacket. She sported a silly grin. “Sorry, Marshall. If I had known it was you, I would have been gentler.” She grimaced as she pointed to a spot near his hairline. “Looks like you took it on the head. I’ll get you a towel or something for that.” She turned and disappeared amongst the aisles in the warehouse.

  Marshall’s mind was running in so many different directions he didn’t even know where to start. He raised a shaky hand to his right temple and felt the sticky blood come off on his hand.

  “Well, I’m going to take your silence for complete and utter surprise,” Diane said.

  Marshall managed to nod.

  “My goodness, we have a lot to talk about. Will you follow me so we can sit? I promise you will have your answers.”

  “Okay.”

  Diane turned and walked down the aisle, her high-heeled gray shoes clicking against the floor. The two walked down a long aisle, made a turn, and walked down another. Marshall’s head began to throb as he tried to piece together what had happened.

  Diane led him into a corner of the warehouse with a large table on an even larger rug. There were a few chairs around another table that was filled with stacks of books.

  “Please sit. Ann should be along soon with something for your head.”

  Marshall had gathered himself enough now to begin piecing together what was happening. “Ann works for you outside of the Hermes. She works for your family.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What is this place?”

  “This is a warehouse I own that holds every piece of evidence or mention of the history of this land. Dating back as far as the founding of the county and even farther than that.”

  Ann appeared with a damp cloth in one hand and a water bottle and container of Advil in the other. “Here, take these.”

  Marshall accepted the Advil and water from her gratefully as his head began to throb.

  “I’m so sorry, Marshall.” Ann walked over and knelt by Marshall’s chair, gently stopping the bleeding with the warm, damp towel.

  “I’m so confused right now,” Marshall said, looking at Ann. “You’re obviously not just the mousy, borderline annoying tech girl at our office.”

  Ann flinched at the words Marshall had used to describe her but then smiled. “Well, I guess my disguise has been working. Even with my annoyingly cheerful act, you’re still the only one that’s nice enough to put up with me.”

  “So that’s not who you really are. You’re some kind of assassin or superhero. Quirky tech girl by day, vigilante by night?”

  Both Ann and Diane laughed. “She is our tech assistant at the office but Ann, like myself, has chosen the same side in this war and we have come to be—allies.”

  Marshall turned his attention back to Diane. She sat straight in her high backed wooden chair. Her short red hair seemed like it was almost on fire compared to her fair skin and light gray suit.

  “You’re talking like a general. What war are you referring to?”

  Ann removed the towel, confident that the bleeding had stopped, and took a seat between the two, crossing her long legs and settling in for an interesting conversation.

  “We are in a war, Marshall. A war that has been waged long before Americans discovered this land, and perhaps even before the Indians settled in the area.”

  Marshall had so many questions he didn’t know what to ask first. Diane must have seen the expression on his face because she smiled and started speaking. “Let’s start at the beginning. For as far back as records of the area have shown, Wakan Canyon has been the site of bloodshed and death. Things may have even been going on before the Indians settled in the land, but that is all debatable.

  What we know for sure is that the Indians fought over a power, a power that corrupted their very souls. Those that tried to control the power were killed by others seeking the power for themselves and the cycle continued for hundreds of years. When my ancestors and the Lloyd family stumbled on the canyon’s secret, we too were corrupted and turned against one another. The Lloyds all but destroyed my family, leaving only myself alive.”

  Marshall let out a deep sigh and gently shook his head, immediately regretting the act from the throbbing pain in his temples. “I don’t think I even want to know, but what is this power that has been fought over for so many years?”

  Ann let out an uncharacteristic low whistle. “Are you sure he’s ready for all of this?” she asked Diane. “We don’t even know for sure that he’ll side with us.”

  There was a moment of silence as Diane looked, not just at Marshall, but through Marshall. “I think we can trust him. He’s still here. He could have tried to run already.”

  “For his sake, let’s hope he does.”

  Marshall couldn’t take it anymore. It was like he was in the principal’s office with his mother and the ladies were carrying on a conversation as though he didn’t even exist. “Well, HE is sitting right here and HE is not going to run anywhere. Especially with a pounding headache and Mrs. Ninja assassin present. HE just really wants to know what the hell is going on.”

  Ann shrugged as Diane continued, “What is the one power that man has sought to control and harness since the beginning of time?”

  “Wealth?” Marshall guessed.

  “Nope,” Ann said.

  “Knowledge?”

  Diane shook her head.

  Marshall was beginning to get agitated at the guessing game. “I don’t know—rank in society, the ability to manipulate others?”

  Diane still shook her head. “Think simpler. What are all men afraid of?”

  Marshall’s mouth went dry as he grasped the answer to the clues the women had lain for him. He licked his lips as he mouthed the word, “Death.”

  Both Diane and Ann nodded in approval. “Yes,” Diane said. “Death is the one thing man has been unable to control. From the beginning of our existence we have feared it, tried to control it, and searched far and wide for ways to prolong it, but to no avail.”r />
  “Until now,” Ann added.

  “Until now,” Diane echoed.

  Chapter 16

  Marshall’s head pounded harder. He wasn’t sure if it was from the knock he had taken or the truth his mind was trying to process and accept.

  “Whether the Native Americans were the first to find it or someone else is still unknown but there is a stone located deep within the earth in Wakan Canyon. A stone the Native American’s would make living sacrifices on and in turn, through the blood of their victims, they were granted immortality. The two founding families found it when they settled the area and now the Lloyd family controls the power.”

  Marshall pushed around the word Immortality in his mind. It sounded so foreign, an idea that had only existed in comic books or stories. Could there really be such a thing? If this was all happening, then Jonah’s fairy tale-like recounting of his childhood would make sense. It fit in perfectly.

  “If the Lloyd family does have this weapon and they have killed your entire family, why have they left you alive?”

  Diane leaned back in her chair. She licked her lips, searching for the right words. “They know I’m a descendant of the Whitmers who founded the county, but I was raised by my grandparents on the other side of my family, who were not Whitmers. I was raised on the east coast. They have no idea I know the truth about them or the land. Besides, even if they did know, I can’t do anything by myself. Who would believe me? Who would I tell?”

  Marshall could see her point. Even as a respected leader in the community and owner of the Hermes, a story like this would be thrown out of court in a second and she would be labeled a lunatic.

  “So what now?” Marshall asked. “You two run around after work in the middle of the night and—and what? Try and find the Lloyd family or their associates and destroy them?”

  “I wish it were as simple as that,” Diane said. “But before we go any further into exactly what Ann and I have been doing, I need to know that you are with us.”