“From Tillburton,” Deem added.
Erin’s eyes widened and she let out a scream of delight.
“No!” Erin said. “How did you…?”
“Another time,” Deem said. “I’ll come down when the mess I’m in is over. And that’s a birthday present to you, personally, not an exchange with your mom for the alocutis. I’ll repay her for that separately.”
“She’ll be shocked you got me this,” Erin said, staring down into the small box. “I can’t believe it either.”
Deem smiled, glad that her present was appreciated. I guess it was worth what I went through to get it, she thought.
“We’ve got to run,” Deem said. “Say hi to your mom for me.”
“I will,” Erin said, still staring down into the box.
Deem leaned forward to give Erin a goodbye hug and walked back to the Jeep. Winn opened his arms to give her a hug too.
“Happy birthday again,” he said as he wrapped her up in his arms. When he let her go she was a little flushed.
“Thank you,” Erin said, smiling broadly.
Winn returned to the Jeep and they took off for Indian Springs.
“Well, that seemed to go over well,” Winn said.
“You didn’t grope her during that hug, did you?” Deem asked.
“So suspicious! You’ve really got to trust me more.”
“I would if I didn’t know you better.”
▪ ▪ ▪
An hour later they reached Indian Springs, a small town dwarfed by the air force base it sat next to. Awan’s modest house was at the edge of town. As Awan saw them pull in, he came out of his house with a large backpack, threw it into the back of Winn’s Jeep, and jumped into the back seat.
“You know the way?” Awan asked Winn.
“Straight up 95?” Winn asked back.
“Yes,” Awan answered, “about two hundred and fifty miles. Then we turn off and go another fifty.”
“So if we’re lucky,” Deem said, “We’ll make it by two.”
“Plenty of time,” Awan said.
“You’ve been there before?” Winn asked. “Inside Broken Hills?”
“Once, many years ago as a kid,” Awan said. “We should be able to get in and out within an hour once we’re there.”
“Broken Hills isn’t downwind,” Deem said. “Right?”
“Correct,” Awan said. “No zombighosts, just the regular old fashioned kind.”
“Refreshing,” Winn said. “Haven’t been around normal ghosts in a while.”
“It’s a different experience when you don’t have to worry about your skin being ripped off,” Awan said.
“We’ve got a couple of things we need to discuss with you,” Deem said. “First, we need to head back as early as possible tomorrow. Some things that I need to get done tomorrow back home.”
“We can leave as early as you want,” Awan said.
“Second, how much do you know about how to kill a skinrunner?”
Awan furrowed his brow. “It’s come to that?” he asked.
“Turns out the object Eliza sent us only worked twice,” Deem said. “I used it on myself and my aunt. We’re both fine, but now my mother has become infected, and the object is finished. So unless I want to spend the rest of my life cutting bone fragments out of her arm, we’ve got to find a way to shut him down completely.”
“That’ll be tricky,” Awan said. “And dangerous. But there is a way.”
“How?” Winn asked.
“Well,” Awan began, “with a regular skinwalker, there were two traditional ways. If a victim could find out the skinwalker’s identity, he only needed to speak the full name of the skinwalker to kill him, or to cause him to leave you alone. If you weren’t a victim, they say you can kill one with a bullet dipped in white ash.
“But with the mutations this shaman is creating, things are different. You’ve already seen how fast he can run and fly while remaining a man. The way you kill him is different, too. Just saying his name isn’t good enough. You have to get the loved one he killed to say his name. It’s more powerful, and it seems to work.”
“The loved one he killed to become a skinrunner in the first place?” Winn asked.
“Yes,” Awan said.
“How the fuck are we going to do that?” Deem asked.
“You’ll have to do some research and get a name,” Awan said. “It’s no good without the name of the person they killed.”
“If we get a name,” Deem said, “then what?”
“If you can find something that belonged to the killer or the victim, and you have the name, my sister can help locate them,” Awan offered.
“I’ve got something he’s touched,” Deem said, thinking of the bankers boxes she’d taken from the skinrunner’s garage.
“But even if we know who he killed, there’s a bigger problem,” Winn said. “They’re dead. They can’t speak. Not with a real voice.”
“That’s why I said it was tricky,” Awan replied. “There’s only two things I know of that can make a ghost corporeal. The first is whatever this mutation is that turns them into zombighosts. You won’t be able to deal with the result of that, they’re too irrational when they turn – they just want to attack. So that approach is out. The second way is something very rare. Have you ever heard of the Rivers of Statera?”
Winn looked at Deem. They both shrugged. “No,” Winn said.
“There’s a couple of places in the River,” Awan said, “where these waters run. They’re sometimes called blood rivers. They only exist in the River, you can’t see them any other way.”
“What are they?” Deem asked.
“No one knows for sure,” Awan said. “There are gifteds who have tried to figure them out. Some people think they’re a symbolic representation of the blood shed of innocent people, but no one’s been able to prove that.”
“How would this make a ghost corporeal?” Winn asked.
“When the waters wash over a ghost who was killed unjustly,” Winn said, “the story of their demise becomes known. Some people think this gives them the knowledge they need to right the wrongs committed against them. It allows them to break their patterns, finish things up and move on.”
“How does that help us?” Winn asked.
“There’s only a couple of known blood rivers in North America. One of them happens to be here, downwind. As usual, it behaves a little differently than the others, due to the radiation. If the ghost drinks from the waters of the blood river here, they become corporeal, for a period of time. Presumably to seek vengeance upon those who wronged them. When they’re in that state, they can speak. This worked for a friend of mine in Ely. Or so he said.”
“So you’ve never seen it yourself?” Winn asked.
“No,” Awan said. “Never really needed to before now.”
“And that’ll kill the skinrunner? When it speaks its name?” Deem asked.
“Slowly,” Awan said. “First the skinrunner will lose its powers. Then it begins to decompose while still alive. Takes a couple of days to complete. But yes, it kills them.”
“I’m in,” Deem said.
“Me too,” Winn said.
“Get the name and the things he touched,” Awan said, “and then let me know. I’ll hook you up with my sister. She lives in Littlefield. She’ll be able to figure out where the victim is now, so you can communicate with him. Or her. You’ll have to convince them to go with you to the blood river.”
“We know the name of the skinrunner,” Winn said, “so we should be able to dig up information about his friends and relatives. It’s bound to be one of them, we just have to find out who.”
“Look for anyone who went missing or died of any cause,” Awan said.
“Where is the blood river?” Deem asked.
“He said it was in a cave somewhere between Panaca and Enterprise,” Awan said. “He’d have to give us the exact location. I’ll get it from him.”
“The middle of nowhere,” Dee
m said.
“Anything to worry about in the cave?” Winn asked. “Since it’s downwind?”
“Don’t know,” Awan said. “Never been there. My friend might know.”
Deem sat back in the front passenger seat and thought about the information Awan had shared with them. It’s all doable, she thought. We just have to find out who Braithwaite killed and convince them to go with us to the blood river. Doable.
“What do you think, Deem?” Winn asked.
“I said I’m in,” Deem replied. “You still in?”
“Hell yeah,” Winn answered.
Awan laughed. “I like working with you guys,” he said, leaning back and smiling.
▪ ▪ ▪
Awan handed Deem a headlamp as they prepared to enter the mine.
“Shit,” Winn said.
“What’s the matter?” Awan asked.
“Winn’s claustrophobic,” Deem said.
“Then why did you volunteer to come?” Awan asked.
“We needed your help with the skinrunner,” Winn said, “and for some stupid reason I thought I could handle it.”
“Buck up,” Awan said, giving Winn a slap on the shoulder.
“What’s the story here?” Deem asked Awan. “You said it had to be this mine because of the minerals?”
“The ghosts have been here almost a hundred and forty years,” Awan said. “There’s a unique blend of gasses and minerals, both from the mine itself as well as The River. Makes them perfect for this recipe.”
“So it’s like they’ve been marinating?” Winn asked.
Awan chuckled. “Kind of.”
“Do you know anything about the ghosts here?” Deem asked.
“No,” Awan said, “I didn’t see them when I came here as a kid. According to my grandfather’s journal, the ghosts were settlers, and they are at the very back of the mine.”
“Great,” Winn said, looking pale. “You got a collector knife?”
Awan pulled a tube from his back pocket and handed it to Winn. Winn took it and turned it over. At the bottom were crystals that would act as a blade. When they found a ghost they could harvest from, the blade would be slid over the ghost, and like a wood plane sliding over wood, it would shave off matter, collecting it in the handle.
“Let’s go,” Awan said, taking the knife back from Winn.
The entrance to the mine was on the side of a sharp rise. It had been closed off with barbed wire, enough to keep animals out but not any human who was determined to enter. A sign on a stake by the entrance warned of falling into shafts.
Awan held the barbed wire open for Deem and Winn to pass under, then Winn returned the favor on the other side.
The entrance was cut square. As they walked into the adit, it began to narrow until they could no longer walk side by side, and Awan took the lead, with Deem in the middle and Winn in the rear.
After a hundred feet the angle of the adit began to rise slightly, and the walking became a little more labored. Wooden beams began appearing on the ceiling, connecting wooden posts on the sides. At first the beams were rare, but they increased the deeper they progressed.
“Guys,” Winn said, stopping them. “I’m not doing well here.”
Deem turned. “What, the claustrophobia?”
“Yes,” Winn answered, looking around at the walls and ceiling.
“Stop looking around,” Deem said. “Here, come get between us, I’ll take the rear.” She moved in back of Winn and pushed him forward. “Only look down, where you’re walking. Concentrate on that.”
Winn picked up behind Awan and the group continued on. Deem looked up to check on Winn frequently, and was met with his backside, which wasn’t an unpleasant view. She couldn’t help herself watch Winn’s jeans, which moved and strained in just the right places when he walked. Whatever he has in there, she thought, looks pretty good. It’s no wonder he gets what he wants most of the time.
The adit turned sharply to the left, and then again to the right, continuing on for several hundred feet. They stepped over an area where some rocks had collapsed from the ceiling onto the floor.
“That’s disturbing,” Winn said.
“Just keep walking,” Deem said.
After several more minutes they came upon a shaft going down.
“Do we have to go down there?” Winn asked.
“I don’t know,” Awan said. “The adit we’re in continues on, so I think we’ll just keep going on this level.”
“What’s that smell?” Deem asked, peering over the shaft.
“I’m guessing bat guano,” Awan said. “Let’s hope they’re all down there and not up ahead.”
They carefully walked around the shaft opening and continued down the adit for another five minutes. The shaft widened out into an area about twenty feet across. There was no exit. They’d reached the end.
“Alright,” Awan said. “This is where my grandfather’s journal said to go. I’m going to drop into the River. You’re welcome to join me, or not, up to you.”
Awan sat on the ground cross legged and closed his eyes.
Winn looked at Deem. “You going in?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” Deem said. “Walked all the way in here, might as well.”
“Alright,” Winn said, joining Awan on the floor. “Me too.”
Inside the flow, Deem immediately noticed four graves against a far wall.
Help us! she heard behind her, and she turned. Nothing was there.
Did you hear that? Winn asked.
The ghosts are here, she thought.
Three figures slowly appeared over the graves. They were bound at their hands and feet, and there were blood-stained burlap bags over their heads. A light mist swirled around the figures. Deem felt a chill go down her spine.
Awan stood and walked to the apparitions. He removed the bag from one of them. Underneath was the frightened face of a woman, her eyes wide. As he looked down on her, he knew something was wrong with her face. She looked up at him, and Awan saw that her lower jaw was missing.
Awan removed the other two burlap bags. One uncovered a man in his mid-thirties with a short beard. The other was a young boy, about ten. The boy was trembling.
Help us, mister! the boy said. He’s coming!
Who’s coming? Awan asked.
Him! the boy wailed.
John Sorensen, said the man tied up next to the boy. He owns this mine.
Is this your wife and son? Awan asked, pointing to the other two.
Yes, the man said. Please help us!
Where is her jaw? Awan asked, pointing to the woman.
Sorensen removed it, the man said. She screamed too much.
What do we have here? came a low voice from behind them. They turned, and a large man dressed in old dusty clothes walked into the area from the adit. Visitors? the man said to Awan. Come for a taste?
The man walked past them and pulled the woman to her feet.
Leave her alone! the woman’s husband shouted.
This is Sorensen? Awan asked the man on the ground.
That’s him, the monster, came the reply.
Who wants to know? Sorensen asked, forcing the woman to bend at the waist. The boy began to cry hysterically.
Deem was about to ask Sorensen what he intended to do to the woman, when Sorensen raised the woman’s dress and threw it over her back, exposing her backside and legs. He pulled down her underwear, exposing her flesh. Then he moved his head toward her. The woman thrashed, trying to break the bonds that held her, but she was no match for the much larger Sorensen. When he pulled his face away from her, Deem recoiled in horror. Sorensen had taken a bite of her, just below her buttocks on the right leg. The wound was bleeding, and Sorensen turned to face them, his mouth full of the woman’s flesh. He chewed, staring at Awan, blood running down his chin.
Jesus Christ, Winn said, turning away.
Sorensen swallowed. Tasty, he said to Awan. The thigh is my favorite.
He eats you? Awan aske
d the man on the ground.
We’re his neighbors, the man said. We’ve been fighting with him about water rights. He settled it by kidnapping us at gunpoint last night, and brought us into his mine. Then he eats us, alive. Buried us where I’m sitting.
The only thing around these parts worse than being a horse thief, Sorensen said to the man, is being a water thief. You stole my water, you sonofabitch. So now I’m getting what’s mine in return. In blood.
Sorensen took another bite from the woman, enlarging the hole he’d already created. Then he stood and removed a leather canteen from his jacket. He opened the canteen and held it at the boy’s mouth, forcing him to drink. The boy wrapped his lips around the canteen’s spigot and drank hungrily.
This one’s getting nothing but milk until I eat him, Sorensen said. It’ll soften him up even more.
You bastard! the man on the ground shouted. You’ll rot in hell for this!
They’ve been doing this for a hundred and forty years? Deem asked Awan.
Looks like it, Awan answered. Behind them, Sorensen returned to the woman and took a bite from her calf, pulling flesh and tendons.
Do we stop him? Winn asked.
I’m just after the ghost matter, Awan said to Winn. This is going to be pretty distasteful, but I’ve got to keep focused on the goal here. So don’t freak out over what I’m about to do. Remember, these people are long dead.
Awan turned to Sorensen. How much for a bite? Just one?
Sorensen looked up at Awan and smiled. A kindred spirit! Hungry, are ya? There’s plenty to go around, just so long as you never tell. I get the woman and boy, you can have the man.
Awan looked back at Deem and Winn. Deem, realizing what Awan was about to do, turned to look away.
Awan walked over to the man bound on the ground. Sorry about this, Awan said.
What are you going to do to me, mister? the man asked.
Awan pulled up the man’s pant leg, exposing the flesh of the man’s ankle and calf. Most of the man’s leg was gone, already shaved away. He pulled up the man’s other pant leg and saw the same.
So he’s been eating you, too? Awan asked the man.
No, the man answered. People like you did that to me.
Blood Oath, Blood River (The Downwinders Book 1) Page 12
