Rex Chase: A Novel

by Tim Wheat

  Rex Chase: A Novel

  Copyright: Tim Wheat

  ISBN: 9781310927720

  Smashwords Edition

  Published 2014

  ERC Press

  The right of Tim Wheat to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This electronic book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.timwheatbooks.com, www.facebook.com/timwheatauthor,

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  To My Loves,

  Candice, Chase, and Kaiden

  Prologue

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 60

  Thank You

  About Tim Wheat

  Connect with Tim Wheat

  More from Tim Wheat

  Prologue

  The Sonoran Desert, Navajo Nation, 1637

  At seventy years of age, the Great Chief was ancient in his own time. Despite his advancing years, however, he was still quite self-sufficient, and unlike most tribal chiefs, continued to farm his own land. The old man opened the deer hide curtain to his Hogan and breathed deep the fresh spring air. Weathered lines on his craggy face told the story of a lifetime of exposure to the sun and deep scars related countless battles with enemies. Though aged, his mind remained sharp and his thoughts lingered on a more peaceful time as the sun showed its first light over the mountains.

  He had no delusions of being an immortal. Many moons had passed over this land, and many more would continue after he made the journey to the underworld. Only nature’s beauty trumped its serenity and the elder felt humbled by the desert and hills which paid him no mind. Another deep breath let the scent of the flowering pelotazo fill his nostrils as his eyes reveled in their splendor.

  Few of the village’s inhabitants stirred at this early hour, which allowed the Great Chief to enjoy the songs of foraging mockingbirds as he marveled at the prosperity that surrounded him. When he had ascended to chief forty years before, war with the Apache had ravaged the people. Heroic exploits in battle had earned him his current position, but it was his apparent godlike powers which still held the appointment.

  The rare honor of being chief of a Navajo tribe was not one that he had ever taken for granted. His had been a prosperous regime, but he knew, someday, even his rule would end. Though his people, and surrounding tribes, often referred to him as a god, the chief knew he was just a man. The elder steadied himself, knelt, and ran a handful of dirt through his fingers. An understanding of the terrain was what gave his people an advantage in battle, but as of late it was an advantage he was too often forced to show.

  After twenty years of peace, the Apache had attacked the month earlier. Navajo warriors, a generation that had never seen actual battle, were ill-prepared, and the surprise attack had decimated their stored food supply. The first crops of the new growing season were still a moon away and hunger abounded despite the bountiful harvest of the year before. Its population had tripled in the time of peace, and the tribe, though large, was vulnerable.

  Small raids, testing the Navajo’s readiness had occurred in the previous two weeks, and the Great Chief trained his warriors to be more prepared. Some of the older men still understood the art of war, and a few of the young men had shown their worthiness. Still, the Great Chief knew that in order to defeat the well-seasoned Apache warriors and restore peace, he would need to finish them in a way no others understood.

  Something seemed amiss this morning. The Great Chief walked through the middle of the small village, straining his ears, and squinting through weathered eyes. He wondered to himself if his aged body still possessed the ability to summon the power of legend. It took a certain amount of physicality that he wasn’t sure he still possessed. If even one of his many sons showed a modicum of leadership ability, he would have passed the power down. As a man, however, he had failed to produce a worthy heir. A power so immense couldn’t be put into the hands of imbeciles, and the Great Chief preferred the secret die with him than fall in the hands of his enemies.

  The people had complained and moaned when he demanded the village be moved. In order for his power to be effective, though, he needed to be near this hallowed place. Where the Great Chief stood had been sacred Navajo territory for generations, but he was the first to summon its god-like power.

  Mined from the side of the mountain, two tall iron pillars stood overlooking the sleeping village. The Great Chief touched them, feeling their warmth, and relishing the slight tingle the metal gave his hands. The week before he had explained to every villager the battle plan should the Apache attack again, and received great resistance. All the young warriors wished to stand their ground and fight for their hogans. Every single man expressed displeasure with his plan to evacuate upon the first sign of Apache aggression. Young men were fools, though, and the Great Chief remembered when he had been as foolish.

  While stroking a long jagged scar on his left forearm, he remembered a time when he had thought his elder to be a fool. Thick scars reminded him daily of his mistakes, and he feared some of the young warriors would die because they wouldn’t obey his command. Since he was now too old to subjugate the younger men, the Great Chief resigned himself to the fact that some would perish, but most would be saved, as long as they followed his plan.

  “Johona, I don’t often speak to women this way, even one as young as you, but would you mind if I held your confidence?” His twelve year old daughter often shadowed him on his walks, and this morning had been no different.

  “I would be honored father.” If she had been surprised by his request she did not show it.

  “Someday, I will no longer be the chief of the Navajo. I have no illusions of immortality, but your brothers, well, they are lazy, apathetic, leaches.” His daughter smiled at the insult to her brothers. She also considered them to be simpletons, but would never say it out loud.

  “Father, I love my brothers very much, and whomever you choose to be your successor, I will follow as I do you.” Her answer was every bit of what he was expecting, and he smiled a father’s smile.

  “Why couldn’t they have turned out like you, my young Johona? A choice I am soon to make would not be as difficult.” Though she had never seen her father in battle, the young girl heard the stories, and unlike most, believed them.

  “Father, you are The Great Chief. Your legend will outlast even the Navajo. Anything you decide will be the correct choice.” Always wishing to please him, though she did not understand, Johona continued in a more forward manner. “Though my brothers may be slow in mind, and lacking in their convictions, I have no doubt you will instill in one of them the wisdom you possess.”

  “How have you become so knowledgeable at such a young age?”

  Then, something at the far edge of the camp caught his eye. A second later he saw another sudden movement twenty yards to the east of the other. It was happening right now. The Apache were here.

  “Johona, sound the alarm. Go my dear.”

  “Yes father.”

  He watched as sh
e descended the hill at great speed, shouting until she reached a large bell given them by another strange people recent to the area. Though she was twelve years old, Johona showed the promise of a true leader, and the old man wished she were a son. He would allow her to rule upon his death, even at her tender age, and would have taught her everything about the wrath he was soon to unleash.

  She rang the bell with furor, and the Great Chief witnessed the deadly efficiency of the attacking Apache. In synchronized fashion, and with amazing speed, the advancing forces swept into the sleeping village. Navajo warriors responded in force, and perhaps with more speed than the Apache anticipated, and within minutes a fierce battle was underway. The Great Chief stood at the top of the hill, begging his people to remember the plan.

  ***

  They came in a trickle at first, and then in greater numbers with greater speed, women and children began filing up the hillside. The Great Chief smiled to himself as his warriors followed the plan and fell back on assigned positions in systematic process, giving up ground in order to save lives. At least three of the warriors were already dead, two from ambush, but just one because he had deviated from the plan. The Great Chief rubbed the scar on his left arm again, and as his people flooded around him, prepared for battle.

  Wave after wave of Apache warriors emerged from the forested hill on the far side of the village, and it seemed like their numbers never stopped. They committed themselves to the battle, and the Great Chief could see that they weren’t here for a simple raid. This was no test of the Navajo’s abilities, it was a quest for blood, and the advancing Apache showed great disapproval at the Navajo warriors’ apparent desire to avoid a fight at all costs.

  At seventy years of age, the people had laughed at the Great Chief when he announced the final stage of the plan. An anger not felt in two decades had welled up inside him, and springing to his feet he had hit one of the laughing men in the ear with a bowl. The man went unconscious for a short period of time, and he had restored order. It was not something that would have happened before the time of prosperity, but none of that mattered now.

  The Great Chief now stood alone between the two pillars. All of the women and children moved behind him to safety, and a handful of Navajo warriors fought their way backward, moving in shifts. Though the young men were green in battle, they learned well, and their movements were like those of ghosts. They seemed to flow as one living being, making an escape from their pursuers.

  When the last of his men retreated to their assigned positions the Great Chief kneeled, placed a glimmering gold head dress on his head, and picked up two metal staves lying at his feet. In days gone by he would have worn full warrior’s gear, and been an intimidating figure. At six feet two inches, the man was a foot taller than the average Apache or Navajo, and his broad barrel chest, even at his age, made him seem dangerous.

  “Enough!” He shouted in the most authoritative voice he could muster.

  The Apache in the village below continued to plunder, but a few sustained their advance up the hill. Warriors flanking the great Chief met the enemy with rocks and other projectiles.

  “I said enough!”

  A magnificent looking man more than forty years his junior rode on horseback from the middle of the camp up the hill. He would make a formidable opponent in a normal fight, but this would not be a normal fight.

  The Great Chief had not used the powers he possessed in such a long time that people no longer believed the stories. Instead, they laughed them off as their father’s telling of legends.

  “Great Chief!” The Apache leader came to a stop thirty yards away, and his warriors advanced in a line on either side of him. They numbered in the hundreds. “I have come here today to kill you, take your women, kill your children, and plunder your food reserves. Your tactics of stalling are over. Why will your men not fight? I am feeling generous, though, and if you surrender to me right now, I will take just your life and your food. You are outnumbered, and outclassed. What say you?”

  “Unlike your knowledge of me, I have no knowledge of you.” The Great Chief’s voice was powerful, and his tone fierce.” Do what is right for your men and leave this place never to return, or I will kill every last one of you, save one. He will report to the others of my victory, and instill fear for another generation of Apaches.”

  Great laughter erupted from the Apache warriors, and the Navajo fighting men to the rear murmured in apprehension. Fire now seemed to be shooting from the Great Chief’s eyes. Thirty years ago his warriors would have screamed to the gods at his act of defiance, but now, even they considered him a worthless old man. His two iron staves clutched tight in his hands, he repeated the warning.

  “Leave now, I do not wish to destroy you all.”

  “You are a fool. You are brave, but a fool. I will have your heart on a platter and rape your wife every night” the Apache chief snarled, then turned to his men, “Attack!”

  A great roar erupted from the Apache warriors and they moved as one up the hill. The Great Chief reacted with speed and purpose. He put both staves high above his head, touched them together at their zenith, and brought them down in one fluid motion in the direction of the Apache leader. A bright ball of fire erupted from the ends of the rods, hurtled through the air, broke the sound barrier, and incinerated the enemy chief. A tremendous noise, like a thunderclap, dazed the Apaches, and fear now spread amongst their ranks.

  A flame burned deep within the Great Chief, and a determination unlike any the young warriors had ever seen, seemed to emanate from his entire being. In awe, they watched as he spoke again, his voice measured, but ferocious.

  “I warned you to leave this place. Now you must die.”

  The Great Chief reached back with the staff in his left hand and touched it to the large iron pillar. He shortened the grip on the staff in his right hand, braced it against his body, and buried it tight into his rib cage. In an instant, a beam of focused death shot from the end of the staff. Years of experience in battle steeled the Great Chief and he went about eradicating his foes.

  Unfathomable power coursed through his body and he focused it on the furthest warrior, boiling the man’s innards, while also cutting him in half. As fast as he could focus his aged eyes on targets, he cut them down. In a dazzling display, four men running side by side had their legs removed from their bodies, just above the knees. He decapitated the next man, and two others attempted to hide behind a tree, while a number of Apache seemed to be fleeing the scene. The Great Chief cursed under his breath and wished he had been faster, but age made him this way, and it couldn’t be undone. He did not plan to allow half of the invading party to return to their village. A decision needed to be made, and for the first time in forty years, the Great Chief prepared himself for annihilation.

  As he removed his left arm from the iron pillar, the Great Chief took a step back, raised his staves once again, and touched them to their pillars. Energy surged through the old man’s body in a maneuver he had hoped he wouldn’t need to perform. It had scarred his arm twenty years ago, and he had almost lost it, but now, again, it was what needed to be done. He was not afraid of death, and focused his mind on the task at hand.

  He brought the staves together and sparks leapt between the iron pillars, the staves, and his golden head dress. The Navajo people watched in amazement as the Great Chief now seemed to have lightning bolts emanating from every part of his body. At the zenith of their arcs, he once again touched the staves together, but instead of bringing them down in a straight ahead fashion, motioned wide to the left and right, covering the entire area.

  Brilliant white light enveloped the mountain for hundreds of yards in a perfect half circle in front of the Great Chief. The molecules in every single object in that area leapt thousands of degrees, and then descended in less than one one-thousandth of a second. Men obliterated into nothingness. Homes failed to exist. Trees incinerated into less than ash. Rock transformed to dust.

  The maneuver knocked him
to the ground, and the Great Chief groaned as he rose to his feet to survey the landscape. Even the dirt ahead of him seemed to be damaged, fire dissipated in every direction, and a cloud of smoke mushroomed in a large plume over his head. One Apache warrior had run parallel to the Great Chief, losing his right arm in a perfect cut at the elbow. Not a drop of blood fell from the wound, but the stunned man sat where he fell, staring at his missing limb. The Great Chief walked to his lone enemy with the confidence of a great warrior. Followed by his humbled people, he leaned close to the man, and issued a warning in a hoarse, foreboding timbre.

  “Go back to your people and tell them what you saw me do today. My power comes from the gods and you have nothing that can match.” The Great Chief straightened and addressed everyone. “I am the Great Chief of the Navajo. I am legend, and like the wolf I will hunt down and kill my enemies. Even if it takes me to the ends of the earth and concludes in my death, I will never stop. I will never rest. I will never be defeated. May the Navajo prosper for a thousand years!”

  A deafening roar went up from the tribe, and the Great Chief considered everything that had transpired. A power this great could be held by no one but the Navajo, and to lose it to anyone else would mean their certain death. He made his decision without fear. The secret would die with him.

  ******************

  The Beginning

  Harvard University, April 1937

  “Mr. Chase.”

  The furious sound of notes being taken came to an abrupt halt as the professor cleared his throat and spoke once again with more authority.

  “Mr. Chase.”

  All eyes were now on the slumped over figure sitting dead center of the one-hundred fifty seat lecture hall. Harvard University was an institution for the very smart and wealthy who were privileged to attend. It wasn’t often a student enrolled at the esteemed institution did something so blatant as sleeping, slumped over on a desk, in class. With even more authority, the professor addressed the sleeping student a third time, but slammed a book down on his desk in unison.