Earthshaker

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  "But...but..." Owen kept staring and pointing.

  Just then, Laurel interceded. Tapped Owen on the shoulder and cleared her throat. "My other friend is getting jealous. My other friend, Sheriff Briar."

  It was enough to snap Owen out of his stare-athon. "Sheriff Briar?" He turned and shook Briar's hand. "Law enforcement's always welcome in my establishment."

  "Thanks," said Briar.

  "Now that everyone knows everyone else, can we get that drink?" Laurel took Owen by the arm and steered him toward the bar. "On the house, right?"

  "Are you kidding? They've never been on the house." Owen's chuckle was deep as a note from a tuba. "You should see the tab you've racked up over the years."

  "I'm a mountain range, Owen," said Laurel. "You know I could ruin your watershed and wreck the rapids, right?"

  "Then who would rinse away the crud filtering down from your slopes?" Owen strolled behind the bar and grabbed a beer mug from an overhead rack. "Who would lull you to sleep with the sound of rushing white water?"

  "Maybe I'd find someone else," said Laurel.

  "Don't cross me, baby." Owen chuckled as he swung the mug under a tap and poured beer into it. "You know I ran away with your heart."

  Laurel grinned at me and Briar and hiked a thumb at Owen. "River humor. He has a million of them."

  "You can bank on it," said Owen.

  "What do you expect?" Laurel shrugged. "He is a river."

  "More like the river, tributaries, flood plain, and surrounding valley." Owen finished pouring the beer and plunked the mug down in front of Laurel. "Think of me as Big Daddy Ohiopyle."

  Briar and I shared a look. Once again, he was along for the ride, taking everything in stride. It was one of the things he did best, one of the things I liked about him. No matter how strange things got, Briar didn't get rattled; he just played it by ear. So far, anyway.

  "Just as I represent the Allegheny Mountains," said Laurel, "Owen represents Ohiopyle. We're the essences of these places, given human form."

  "More than essences, I'd say." Owen tipped another mug under the tap and started pouring another beer. "We're like...facets of the same diamond."

  "Landkind." Laurel smiled and reached for her beer. "That's what we are."

  Landkind. It was a new one on me. So new I wasn't sure I could buy it just yet. "Why don't I remember ever coming across you before?"

  Laurel and Owen exchanged a glance. "Honestly," said Laurel, "we don't know."

  Owen frowned as he topped off the second beer. "Something isn't right, that's for sure."

  "So how many of you are there?" said Briar.

  "We don't really keep count." Laurel sat on a barstool, cradling her beer with both hands. "Millions, probably. One for every distinct place. Every mountain range, every river, every lake, every beach, every island."

  "Not places marked by lines on a map," said Owen. "Places marked by formations of the Earth."

  "Millions?" I sat on a barstool beside Laurel, and Owen pushed a beer in my direction. "But I've never met any of you till now. Never even heard of you."

  "We don't exactly call attention to ourselves," said Laurel.

  "Then why are you talking about this in front of them?" Briar bobbed his head toward two customers at the far end of the bar, then the others at tables around Doc Yough's.

  "Because," said Owen. "They're all a part of it."

  "Most of them are like us," said Laurel. "Right, Jack?"

  "Next round's on me." The man's voice made me turn and look toward the end of the bar. A tall, slender guy with black hair was doing the talking, perched on a barstool beside an old timer in a John Deere cap. "Courtesy of Indian Lake."

  Someone else spoke up from a table. "We'll get the round after that." This time, a middle-aged man with sandy hair and a brown jacket waved at us. "Blue Knob Mountain."

  The heavyset guy sitting across from him looked over his shoulder at us. "And Prince Gallitzin Park. Nice to meet you."

  That left four more guys sitting at a big table in the corner. The muscular blond one with the toothpick in his mouth did the introductions. "I'm Deep Creek, and this is Rocky Gap." He patted the shoulder of the craggy-faced guy beside him. "We're from down Maryland way. And these are Berkeley Springs and Cacapon Mountain, from West Virginia." He gestured toward the other two at the table—young guys with good-natured grins and matching shocks of red hair.

  "You're all Landkind?" I said.

  They all said they were except the old-timer in the John Deere hat.

  I leaned my elbow on the bar and rubbed my eyes hard. Having trouble processing. "I don't get it. I'm linked to the Earth. I can sense things that are connected to it. Other people in tune with it. So why haven't I picked up on any of you before?"

  "Maybe because we didn't seek you out until now," said Laurel.

  "I guess." As I looked from Laurel to Owen, I had a feeling they were hiding something from me. They seemed like friendlies; why wouldn't they just come clean?

  "So." Briar walked to the middle of the room, boots scuffing the floorboards. "Is it just a big coincidence you all happened to be here today, when we decided to drop by?"

  "More like an emergency meeting," said black-haired Jack. "She called it." He gestured at Laurel.

  "Thank you for coming." Laurel had a drink of beer and got up from her barstool. "I have some terrible news. I'm dying."

  All the customers got up at once and converged on Laurel. Black-haired Jack reached out and touched her arm. "Dying?"

  "Since when?" said Blue Knob Mountain.

  "From what?" said Berkeley Springs.

  "I'm being poisoned," said Laurel. "I've known for the past month."

  "You've known for a month?" Deep Creek sounded angry. "Why wait so long to bring us into the loop?"

  "I've been trying to find out who did it," said Laurel. "I thought maybe they could reverse the process. But I haven't found them. And now the woman who was helping me is dead. Murdered." Laurel gestured at me. "Her best friend, Aggie Regal."

  "The TV weather girl?" said Jack.

  Laurel nodded. "Things don't look good. I don't have much longer. Maybe two weeks." She dipped her eyes to stare at the floor. "You needed to know."

  "You might say that." Jack turned and paced away from the group, scrubbing the back of his head with his knuckles. "Shit."

  The redheads from West Virginia looked shell-shocked. "So we're all going to die?" said the tall one, Cacapon Mountain.

  "Yes." Laurel looked up and met his gaze. "I'm sorry."

  "Wait." Briar frowned at Laurel. "I thought you were the only one dying."

  "They're all part of my range," said Laurel. "There are others, too, lots of them, but not everyone showed up here today."

  "So this is a multiple murder in progress," said Briar.

  "Exactly," said Laurel.

  "Shit," said Jack. "I thought I was feeling off."

  "Me, too," said Blue Knob.

  "And you don't know who's doing this?" said heavyset Prince Gallitzin Park.

  Laurel shook her head. "That's why Gaia and Sheriff Briar are here. We're not giving up."

  "This is just like Cousin Canyon," said Deep Creek.

  "Cousin Canyon?" I'd heard of the place, of course. Tourist attraction, state park up in Clearfield County.

  "Also murdered," said Laurel. "Three months ago. She died the same way."

  "And no one ever found out who did it," said Owen. "Big mystery."

  "Did anyone investigate the crime scene?" said Briar. "Did anyone look for evidence?" I loved the way he just accepted the idea that a canyon had been murdered, then started applying cop logic to solving the crime.

  "Enough to know it was murder," said Laurel. "Some of us probed the local geology. We found telltale traces of an energy matrix that's poisonous to our kind. Unfortunately, the trail ran out before we could find the killer."

  "This energy matrix," I said. "Is it the same thing that's poisoning you?"

&nbs
p; "Yes," said Laurel. "Which is why I think the same murderer is behind both."

  Briar folded his arms over his chest and tapped his chin with his forefinger. "You said you thought one of your own family was responsible. One of your people. Who did you mean?"

  "I don't know," said Laurel. "But they'd have to be Landkind. No one else could do something of this nature and scale. No one else would know how to do it."

  "And how is it done?" said Briar. "How does someone poison a mountain range?"

  Laurel had a drink of beer and put down the mug. "The crust of the Earth seethes with power—an almost mystical force that travels along what we know as ley lines. Mountains and other geologic formations serve as reservoirs of this force. It's the energy that gives life to Landkind." She spread her arms to encompass the other customers in Doc Yough's. "But it can be changed. Corrupted. Turned against us like a cancer in a human body. And when it has advanced enough..." Laurel sighed. "There's no turning back."

  "We're screwed." Jack slumped into a chair and flung back his head to stare at the ceiling. "We're all dead."

  "I don't understand," said Blue Knob. "Who would do this to us?"

  "I don't have any enemies," said Rocky Gap. "I mind my own business."

  "Maybe it's nothing personal," said Cacapon Mountain. "Like a serial killer targeting Landkind."

  "Or maybe it's something bigger than any of us," said Owen. "Maybe we're just caught in the middle."

  "We need to run up to Cousin Canyon," said Briar. "Take a look around. Your people might have missed something."

  He looked at me, and I nodded in agreement. "Let's do it." Not like we had any other leads at that point.

  "We're running out of daylight," said Briar. "We'll go tomorrow morning."

  "Thank you," said Laurel. "I'll go with you, of course. Anyone else?"

  "Count me in," said Owen.

  No one else volunteered. The other Landkind shifted and fidgeted, and none of them offered to come along.

  I quickly found out why. "Are you sure it's safe?" said Jack. "What if you get another dose of the poison?"

  "What if the killer shows up?" said Blue Knob.

  The Landkind were afraid. It was then I realized how much like regular humans they were. They knew fear...and its opposite, too.

  Take Owen, for example. "I'm going anyway." He grinned and raised his mug of beer. "I'm already dying. What the hell do I have to lose?" With that, he tipped the mug to his lips and tossed a big swallow down his throat.

  "All right then," said Laurel. "It's settled. Owen and Gaia and the Sheriff and I are going to Cousin Canyon tomorrow. Meanwhile, the rest of you can get the word out over the network. All Landkind needs to know about this. They need to know we're being hunted."

  "It hasn't happened forever," said Jack. "Landkind being hunted and killed."

  "Let's just hope we can stop it." Laurel raised her mug overhead for a toast. "May we be the last Landkind to lose our lives to this murderer."

  The rest of the room joined her toast, but it was half-hearted at best. And they all drained their glasses to the bottom and came to the bar for another drink afterward.

  *****

  Chapter 17

  We agreed Laurel would stay at my place that night, and Owen would stay with Duke. Cousin Canyon was a two-hour drive away, and we wanted to get an early start the next day.

  Not that I was crazy about having company. My apartment wasn't big, and I've never been a fan of overnight guests. Plus, I had a nagging worry in the back of my head, reminding me this woman was little more than a stranger. I liked her, I had a good feeling about her, but I knew she could still turn out to be a threat. Betrayal was always a possibility.

  The cherry on top of the sundae was my bottomed-out mood, otherwise known as "sinking fast." I could feel it coming over me on the drive home from Ohiopyle, sliding in like a big, lazy wave. I knew it was going to pull me under, I knew it; nothing I could do but ride it out and hope for a taste of "smooth sailing."

  I thought I deserved some "smooth sailing" by then. The truth was, with all the horror and strife I'd been going through, I hadn't experienced an upbeat mood in ages. Not since seven days before, when I'd brought down child killer Ray Long at the Buckhorn Quarry.

  To be honest, though, I didn't expect a mood upswing anytime soon. Not with my best friend dead and her killer still at large and my memory playing tricks on me. The best I figured I'd get was one of those dark peaks, the kind of high-energy moods that came with a nasty edge and a big shot of stupid. Angry disguised as happy, if you know what I mean.

  So I went into that night expecting utter misery or trouble. I knew it wasn't going to be a slumber party with pillow fights and pizza.

  But I could've had worse house guests. At least Laurel didn't piss me off right out of the gate.

  As I cooked up a pot of spaghetti in the kitchen, she wandered around my living room like it was a museum. "I love these nested dolls," she said. "Did you get them in Russia?"

  "Yeah." I lifted strands of spaghetti from the boiling water with a pasta scoop. Plucked one out and tasted it for consistency. Decided to leave the heat on for another minute. "Three years ago. Amazing trip, especially St. Petersburg."

  "And this sphinx statuette," said Laurel. "You got it in Egypt?"

  "Five years ago." I pictured her handling the souvenirs on my cluttered book shelves, hoped she wouldn't break anything. They were the only valuables in the place, and they were valuable only to me. Priceless, as far as that goes.

  "You've been everywhere, haven't you?" said Laurel. "And you brought something back from each place."

  "Almost everywhere." I checked the sauce, dipping in a fingertip and tasting. Sprinkled in a little more garlic powder for good measure.

  "It doesn't surprise me," said Laurel.

  "Because I run a travel agency?" I said.

  Laurel didn't elaborate. I wished she'd just come out and say what was on her mind. She'd been hinting around about knowing me before, but she never said exactly how, when, or where we'd supposedly met.

  "So what do you do for a living?" I said. "When you're not busy with mountain range stuff?"

  "I'm a florist," said Laurel. "I have my own greenhouse down in Somerset."

  I stirred the sauce, then opened the oven to check the garlic bread. Nothing fancy, just regular white bread buttered and doused with garlic salt. "Are you married?"

  "Divorced," said Laurel. "Cool Taj Mahal statue, by the way."

  "Thanks." I grabbed a pot holder and yanked the tray of garlic bread out of the oven. "So you just lead a normal life, then? Except you have the mind of a mountain range?"

  "Sort of," said Laurel. "It's more like I'm part mountain range and part person. Like I'm two people at once."

  I turned off the heat on the sauce and pasta. Reached into a corner cupboard for the silver colander. "Can you do things?"

  "What kind of things?" said Laurel.

  "Unusual things." I put the colander in the sink, then drained the pasta into it. "Things other people can't do."

  "Yes," said Laurel...but again, she didn't elaborate. "Hey, you were even in Atlantis? You really have been everywhere."

  I realized she was referring to my souvenir snow globe from the Atlantis resort. "I just hope it doesn't sink like the first one did." As soon as I said it, I was surprised at myself for making an actual joke on a down night. Where the hell was the misery? My bipolar psychological clock was never off, so why wasn't I huddled under the covers weeping and cursing by now? Was it just that I liked her?

  I scooped heaps of pasta onto plates and ladled sauce on top of it. Then walked the plates out to the dining room table in the corner of the living room. "Dinner's ready."

  Laurel took a plate of spaghetti and sat down at the table. "So what about you?"

  "What about me?" I headed back to the kitchen for a bottle of wine I'd opened.

  "I don't see a ring," said Laurel. "What about a boyfriend?"

 
; "Nope." I came back with the wine and started filling the glasses on the table. "Not right now."

  Laurel watched me over her glass as she sipped the wine. "What about family? Sisters, brothers, father, mother?"

  It was my turn to be evasive. "How long were you married?" Back out to the kitchen then.

  "Twenty years this last time," said Laurel. "Fifty years the time before that. Seventy-two the time before that." She sipped some wine. "Et cetera."

  "You're immortal." I brought in the bread on a plate and put it on the table. "Like nymphs and goddesses."

  Laurel put down her wine and stared thoughtfully at me. "You have no pictures of family. Why is that?"

  I felt like going back to the kitchen, but I didn't have a good reason. "I don't have any." Slowly, I sank into my seat at the table. "I just don't."

  Laurel leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "What is your earliest memory, Gaia?"

  I scowled and reached for my fork and soup spoon. "Why do you ask?"

  "I'm curious," said Laurel. "Tell me."

  As I twirled my fork in my spaghetti, using the soup spoon as a base to keep the spool of pasta tight, I thought about her question. Searched my mind. What was my earliest memory? It didn't line up with "normal" people's earliest memories; I knew that much.

  Then again, the woman I was talking to wasn't exactly a normal person, was she? When I thought of it, I decided to tell her. What could it hurt?

  "Driving," I said.

  "Going for a ride in a car, you mean?" said Laurel.

  "No." I shook my head. "I mean driving. Wrecking, actually. I wrecked the car."

  "Because you were little, and you got behind the wheel?" said Laurel.

  "I was about the same size I am now. I wrecked because something was wrong with me. Plowed the front end right into a utility pole." Finished twirling, I raised the forkful of spaghetti to my mouth and pushed it inside.

  "And that's your first memory," said Laurel. "Driving a car. You were old enough to drive a car."