Adam looked around the immediate area. “This is where they fought.”
Luke saw what he was talking about. The area was scuffed up with boot and bare feet tracks. A horrible feeling ran down Luke’s spine.
Adam drew a circle around one of the boot tracks with the point of his spear. “Sha-She like a panther.” He fashioned his hand in the shape of a claw.
Luke felt numb. He had never experienced anything like this before. He thought of Moon in the chair at the jail. She had seemed so fragile and innocent. But he had seen her at work before this. This was different. This was like an animal.
Adam squeezed Luke’s shoulder. “We be careful of the panther.”
“Why did she do this?” Luke said. “Why did she cut them up so? Why not just kill them and be done with it?”
Adam made a scratching motion on his spear. “She’s marking her territory. She trying to frighten the Scrain.”
Hell, it should work, Luke thought. He was damn sure frightened.
Adam looked toward the closest hill. “You stay.” With that, he sprinted to the hill and climbed up. He scanned around and then motioned for Luke to climb it.
When Luke got to the summit, he spotted her. She was in a flat, rocky area a few hundred yards below, in the open where no one could sneak up on her. He pulled out his binoculars. She was picking up rocks from the ground and putting them in her bag. Slowly she turned and looked straight at them. Luke was immediately afraid. She waved. Luke slowly waved back.
“What is she doing?” Luke said.
“Diamonds,” Adam said. “Orion calls the shiny stones she’s picking up diamonds.”
Diamonds? Did she come back to this world for diamonds? She didn’t waste any time coming after them.
She started toward the hill.
Adam turned to Luke. “How good you know Sha-She?”
Luke thought about it. He really didn’t know her at all. She was beautiful. She was some kind of government agent. She was a liar. She was a killer.
“You stay here,” Luke said as he started down the hill without looking at Adam. He watched Moon get closer, carrying her backpack in her hand. She appeared like a different person than he had left in the village, but she was the same. He was the one different—educated. It seemed every day—every minute—there was something new to learn.
They met at the base of the hill.
“Where did you go?” Moon said. She smiled. “They told me you had left in the night.”
Luke didn’t smile. “Why did you put his balls on his chest?”
Moon stepped back a step as if she had been slapped. The smile vanished. “Remember, Constable, we aren’t in Arkansas now.”
He said nothing.
She threw the pack onto her back. “Luke, the Scrain are cold-blooded killers. They are like wolves; when they sense weakness, they move in for the kill. They will see no weakness.”
“This seems over the top.”
“Damn it, Luke! This is who I am. This is what I do. Now you have gotten your ass mixed up in it.” She pointed up the hill toward Adam. “Maybe you should go live with your new friend because I don’t think you can handle what I do.”
Her scolding didn’t faze him. He believed he was beginning to get calloused to it all.
He turned toward Adam. “His name is Adam.” He turned back toward her. “His father is Orion.”
Her anger fell like a stone as she looked up the hill. “I knew him when we were little.”
“When you gave me the story about Orion, you didn’t tell me you knew him.”
She looked into Luke’s eyes but said nothing.
Luke touched her bag. “Why are you collecting diamonds? Did you lie to me about knowing how to get home?”
Adam ran down the hill toward them. “We go. Scrain coming. We go now and beat them to the river.”
“How many?” Moon said.
“Six or seven.”
“Did they see you on the hill?” Luke said.
“No, but they will come down this trail.”
“Adam, you two go first. I will follow and slow them down if they get too close,” Moon said.
Adam grabbed Moon’s wrist in his strong hand. “Sha-She come quick. Adam won’t wait for you to butcher Scrain. Sha-She understand?”
She pulled free. “Weya na kayeeya!”
Adam stepped back from her and then bowed his head. He turned to Luke, grabbed his shirt. “We go.” With that, he sprinted back down the trail.
Luke looked at Moon.
“Go!” She said.
“Are you right behind me?”
“On your ass.” Moon smiled.
Luke hesitated just long enough to take her measure and then darted after Adam.
Adam was shoving the canoe into the river when Luke emerged from the edge of the forest. He had hoped Adam would not leave them. He looked back toward the woods, but did not see Moon. A gunshot boomed through the forest. He considered going back. He looked toward the river and saw Adam waving for him to come. He ran to him and fell into the river.
Adam helped him up and said, “What’s that noise.”
“It’s Moon’s weapon.”
“Weapon?”
“Trust me, Adam. It is the most powerful weapon in this world.”
Six more shots echoed across the river.
Luke put an arrow on the string. His blood swooshed in his veins. He looked at Adam. He was cool and firm.
If they came, Luke was well prepared to get as many arrows off as he could before they got close enough to use the spears. He was nervous, but he was prepared. It came to him that it was like hunting and waiting for that big buck to get into range—the heart racing, the heavy breathing, the anticipation.
Adam slowly reached into the canoe and grabbed his spear, never taking his eyes from the direction of the shots. Luke could see the anticipation in him as well.
Luke could not wait much longer. He was ready for the Scrain to come, and the smart thing to do was wait, but he was concerned for Moon. Sure, she was a killer—and good at it, but she was still only one person against a half dozen or so.
She had fired a total of seven shots. What did it mean? Did she run out of bullets? Was she fighting them hand to hand this very second? Was she struggling for her life?
Adam said, “The panther.”
Moon stepped out of the woods with her bag over her shoulder. She was as cool as if she were a birdwatcher on a Sunday afternoon. He knew what the seven shots meant. They were the claws of the panther.
Chapter 9
The village was nestled along the river like a scene of an Indian village from some old western. People busied themselves with basket making, fashioning weapons, building fishing nets, and such. Smoke drifted up from small fires, children chased a puppy, and a handful of teen boys had fun practicing with newly built spears, throwing them at a gourd hanging from a paw paw tree.
When Adam landed the canoe, Moon giggled, climbed out, and went to the children chasing the puppy. She laughed and joined in with a mock chase. It was an extreme contrast from their recent adventure. Moon had been a stranger to Luke just a few days ago. After today, she was more of one.
Luke pulled his things from the canoe. Where did he go from here? He looked around the village. A few of the men waved at him, so he must still be in good standing with the tribe. But, whom did he trust? Who was his friend?
He heard a whacking noise and then heard the boys cheer as one of them hit the gourd with the spear. It broke his train of thought—a pleasant reprieve. He had nowhere else to go, so he moved toward them. They saw him coming, offered him the spear, and pointed to the gourd. He set his things down and took the spear. It was about six feet long and much heavier than it had first appeared—hickory, probably. They laughed and pumped their fists in the air and made strange “La La” cheering sounds. Luke smiled and tried to make the same sound. They laughed harder and “La Laed” harder.
Luke turned to the gourd. He could still hear the fun going
on around him as he concentrated on the gourd, but the zone slowly came over him. It happened every time before the shot. The gourd narrowed in his vision. The surrounding sounds and happenings faded in his brain—they were still there, but moved to an unimportant level in his senses. The gourd centered in his vision; everything else faded to gray. He found a black speck in the center of the gourd. Now, that was the only thing in his world. He focused his whole concentration on the speck. He was moving to the speck in his mind. It was everything now—the only thing now. Instantly, there was a loud crack and the gourd exploded into pieces. The world came back to Luke in a rush. It always happened that way when he shot a bow or threw a horseshoe.
The boys seemed stunned. They slowly turned to Luke. He smiled. They ran to the gourd and picked up the pieces. They began chanting and holding the pieces over their head.
“Looks like you have made an impression.” Luke turned to find Moon standing behind him.
He nodded. “I’m sure they’ve seen better.”
Moon stared at him for a long spell. “You don’t get it, Constable.” She took the spear from one of the boys. Took a stance beside Luke and gave it a toss to another gourd on the ground. She was close, but still a miss. The boys laughed. “At this, you are good. At this, you are the best. I’ve watched you shoot that bow and throw that hatchet.”
“I wouldn’t say—”
“Luke, I’m not trying to flatter you.” She pulled the pistol from her pants and aimed it at the boys. They looked at it with curiosity, not knowing what the device was.
“What the hell—” Luke started.
“Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!” she said as she pointed to each boy in turn.
“Put that damn thing away,” Luke said.
She deposited it back into her pants pocket. “I could have given each one of them a new eye hole if I had wanted. I’m that good, and I know it. You are that good with primitive weapons and don’t know it.” She retrieved her bag from the ground and turned back to Luke. “You better learn to know it. There is no 911 here.” She turned and walked toward her father’s lodge.
Luke watched her go. She was more of a mystery than ever. Who was she? What was she? What were her plans for tomorrow and the next day and the next? He knew he had better get to understand her. He needed to know her as best he could. She was everything to him now. Whatever he had to do from this moment forward, she held the key. But wait, there were still Orion and Adam. Luke looked toward the river. The canoe was gone. Adam was gone.
Like a heavy pack, the weight came again. The lonely, lost feelings settled into his soul again. He felt the fear of not being in Arkansas again. He took a deep and shivered breath—like you take when you emerge from cold water. He trembled. His very soul trembled. The cold blanket of self-pity draped over him as it had during the divorce. Even his teeth began to chatter.
“Luke! Luke! Luke!”
He shook his soul from the despair before it took him totally, turned to see the boys pointing at a new gourd hanging. They chanted his name as if he were a big baseball hitter coming in to win the game.
One of the boys grabbed the new gourd hanging and made it swing. They all laughed, pointed, and chanted, “Luke!” One of them handed him the spear.
Behind him, he heard someone say the name, Grace. He turned to find women making baskets. They had not said it. But he had heard it. And then he heard it, yet, again. But there was no one speaking. It had to be in his head. Of course, it was. It was his subconscious. It was his inner self. It was the dark part of the brain that most people never use—most people don’t even know it’s there. He had been so worried for himself; he had not done all he could to look for Grace. It was his reason for being in this world. It was his duty.
“Luke! Luke! Luke!”
The boys chanting brought Luke back to the now. He felt the solid, heavy weight of the spear in his hand.
“Luke! Luke! Luke!”
He turned toward the gourd. His eyes found a small dent in the center of it. He followed its swing. The narrowing of concentration began again. That mysterious part of his brain took over again. Some shooters call it instinct. He didn’t know what you called it—he didn’t care. He knew it was real. It was like magic. The autopilot took the controls. The gourd rang out again as it was impaled and disappeared in the bushes, riding on the spear.
The boys threw their hands up in amazement and ran to find the spear.
Moon was right. He was good. He was extremely good. And now, he had better control himself. He would need everything he had to survive. He would have to rely on that inner magic more. It was just a game in Arkansas. It was real here. It was real, Grace was real, and he was going to find her.
The fire crackled, and orange and red sparks floated up into the black night and disappeared among the white stars. Four turkey halves roasted over a wooden grate just out of range of the licking flames. The smell of the sizzling birds, the sound of the singing fire, and the sight of the dancing shadows calmed Luke as no bourbon ever could. He poked a big oak stick into the fire and sat back on his log. One of the four men tending the birds nodded his approval. He heard women, another fire over, laughing among themselves as they tended something cooking in stone pots.
He found himself in the company of the king’s guards and their families. There were ten men in charge of the king’s protection. They were always close by, as they were now. The king was in his lodge, and the guards were stationed around it. Their small cabins surrounded his.
Moon appeared and sat beside him. He hadn’t spoken to her since they had watched the boys throw the spear. He had seen her around the village, but that was all. It didn’t appear she was avoiding him, but she hadn’t sought him out either. He was sure she was the one who arranged his present company. Luke reckoned she was trying to get him established into her father’s inner circle.
“You good?” she said, patting Luke’s leg.
“Yeah. In fact, this is a very good atmosphere. I’ve even learned a few words: “Coola and Roara.”
Moon smiled and nodded. “Turkey and Fire.”
“Not bad, uh?”
Moon moved closer to Luke. “Tell you the truth, there are a good many words I don’t remember, but they are coming back in spurts.” She turned back to the fire and slowly the smile faded. She sat saying nothing for a long time. She finally said, “Luke, I don’t necessarily like what I am.”
Luke studied her face in the firelight, but said nothing. He didn’t know what to say anyway. Hell, he really didn’t fully understand what she was to start with.
A few long minutes passed and Moon turned to Luke. She forced a smile, but it couldn’t hold, and it dropped.
He clasped her hands between his. They were small, but not fragile.
The women laughed at the other fire. An owl screamed out by the river. One of the men came and rotated the turkey halves, placed a couple of sticks on the fire, and disappeared into the king’s lodge.
“I’ve killed too many people to count, Luke.” A tear ran down her face, and she wiped at it. I’ve seen many of my fellow agents killed—tortured.” She bit at her lip. “I am very good at what I do. It’s why I am still alive. But I hate what I do.” She turned back to the fire. “It would be good to stop killing—to stop looking over my shoulder.”
“Your fellow agents are not in this world. Your government is not in this world.”
She stared into the fire. “Does it matter, Luke? Even here, I have to kill. Even here, you have to kill.”
Luke slowly nodded. She was right. He didn’t know what to tell her. He reached around and pulled her close. She put her arms around him. She felt so weak. She felt so vulnerable. She felt as if she needed his protection. But he knew none of this was true. It didn’t matter. Right now, he wanted to hold her, and he felt she wanted him to hold her. Maybe tomorrow they could start over. Maybe they could grow a trust. Maybe he could give in to his feelings for her. He wanted to so badly—it was like a cable pulling at his
heart. But not yet—not quite yet.
Luke awoke with a start—another bad dream. He opened his eyes and in the dark he saw the limbs of the persimmon tree overhead, its limbs crooked and gnarly like a monster’s arms. He heard a crackle from the dying fire and turned toward the sound. It was not a dream. He was really in this place. He sat up and stretched. He was stiff from lying on the hard, bare ground, but it was better than lying on one of the bug-infested skins in the cabin. He would have to make him some sort of tent or shelter of his own.
A man appeared at the fire and nursed it until he had a good flame. Two more joined him. Luke recognized them as three of the king’s guards. They ate pieces of the leftover turkey, talked in muffled voices, pointing into the darkness as they ate.
Luke went to the fire and pulled him a piece of turkey from the rack. “Morning,” he whispered.
One of the men patted him on the shoulder and whispered something back.
The biggest man—Luke remembered his name as Kreecuk—held up a spear and made out as if he were throwing it at something. He said something and made running motions with his hands, and then he pretended he was throwing his spear again. He saw Luke didn’t understand, so he went to Luke’s bow and held it up and pointed to the turkey.
Luke understood. “You are going hunting.” Luke drew his finger across his throat like a knife cutting.
They laughed and nodded.
Luke grinned. “Hunting!” He made a shooting motion with his bow and nodded that he wanted to go.
Kreecuk muttered around and finally spit out, “Hunting.” He bit into a turkey leg and said again, “Hunting.”
As the dawn crept in, Luke found himself following Kreecuk along the edge of a cane thicket. The other two men had a shaggy dog and were in the brush stomping and shaking the cane. They were beaters, and they were trying to drive something out for Luke and Kreecuk. In this world, Luke didn’t know what to expect, anything from an armadillo to a Tyrannosaurus Rex. The area reminded Luke of a swampy place he knew back in Arkansas, and he had hunted rabbits there just as he was doing now.
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