Death's Valley

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  “Vengeance and avenging,” said Sara, walking out onto the deck nude and pulling on a robe. Jade said, “Oh God. I hope we didn’t wake you?” Sara motioned to Jade for a sip of her drink, and she handed it to her. “No…I felt for my man, and he wasn’t there, and when he’s not in bed it means that he’s off thinking, and I always interrupt him because he thinks too much.”

  The sun was breaking the horizon, and Jim and Barbara were wrapped in each other’s arms. Barbara was snoring lightly against Jim’s neck as he stared up at the ceiling of their bedroom. He watched the shadow play of the morning light as the sun rose and stole the darkness. He laid in the stillness of the morning and said, “Nine more months, and I’m out of office. I better fuckin’ survive it.” Barbara roused and said, ”You won’t just survive it, you’ll thrive on it.” “How do you figure?” Jim said, reaching over for his cigarettes on the nightstand. He pulled one out and offered one to Barb, and she took one out of the pack. Jim flipped open his Zippo and lit the cigarettes and lay on his pillow with one hand behind his head and Barbara lying on his chest. Barbara took a hit off the smoke and rolled onto her back. Jim looked at her nude breasts and leaned over and kissed each one.

  She laughed as her nipples got hard and said, “The Eagle has hardened you.” He looked down at the raging erection that he had and said, “I don’t get a hard on when I’m around John or the Eagle!” Barbara roared. “No, sir, you get that for me. What we all did yesterday together to Cantrell solidified vengeance for your slain friend and also gave you a glimpse into the inner workings of the Eagle.” Jim looked over at Barbara and said, “Are you saying you think that now I’m going to be a fuckin’ killer like him?” She shook her head, blowing the smoke from her cigarette into the air. “No, no…I think that you and John have formed a bond over the Eagle, and you are going to have a hell of a lot harder time letting the really, really bad guys see the inside of a jail cell.” Jim took a hit off his cigarette and said, “Yea…that’s what I’m fuckin’ afraid of, Barb, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  Cleansing

  The Iron Eagle Series: Book Eight

  Prologue

  Jade Morgan ran her usual route up Topanga Canyon Road into the Malibu Hills in the Santa Monica Mountains. It was her first weekend off in nearly a month, and she needed to get out and get some air and see the light of day instead of the light of her autopsy table at the Los Angeles County Coroner’s office. She ran up Topanga past the multi-million dollar homes that inhabit the private enclave in the hills overlooking Malibu and the Pacific Ocean. When she rounded the corner of her final turn before stopping for a water break, she smelled smoke.

  If there is one thing that no one in Southern California ever wants to smell, it’s smoke, and just the hint of it nauseated Jade. She had lived through the terrorist fires three years earlier, and the smell brought back a flood of memories. She looked around for the source but couldn’t see anything. She kept running until she got to her turn and stopped. She pulled her water bottle from a belt on her hip and took several hard breaths and sips while looking for the source of the odor. She was wiping the sweat from her brow when off in the distance of a small side trail she saw just the hint of white smoke and took off in its direction.

  There were several rock caves and pits that the local kids used for their partying, and as she closed in on the source she figured that’s what she had found. Only when she turned the corner and saw the source of the fire and what lay upon it, she leaned over and threw up then pounded her chest and grabbed her cell phone.

  John Swenson pulled off Topanga Canyon Road where there were several sheriffs’ cars parked. He got out and saw Jade off to the side talking to Jim O’Brian. She saw John walking toward them and ran into his arms, crying. He wrapped his arms around her, looking at Jim, and asked, “What the hell happened up here?” Jim waved an arm for John to follow him, and John took Jade by the hand and followed. Jim had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and he was in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. John was dressed in shorts as well. They were both off work for the weekend, and it was damn early on a Saturday morning for either of them to be called out. Jade had called John, who in turn called Jim, who in turn called in the 911 to his Malibu Sheriff’s office, and they had cars there before Jim and John could get on scene.

  John had Jade by the hand, and she walked silently by his side, following Jim down a slight embankment until they came to a rock wall and the remnants of a fire. John looked on and said, “Okay…so some kids were up here having a party and a cook out!” Jim pointed in the direction of the smoldering fire and said, “Well, then we have a bunch of mother fuckers up here who eat babies!” John looked down to see the half burned corpse of a child. It had been skewered through the bottom with the pointed end protruding through its skull. Half of the child was unidentifiable. The face was somewhat discernible, and John left Jade behind him and said, “It’s been eaten…or part of it has.” Jim looked on saying, “Well, no fuckin’ shit, Sherlock. Nothin’ gets past you, does it?”

  John looked at Jade and said, “I know this is traumatic, Jade, but I need you to do your job. She dried the tears from her face and took a deep breath and walked over to the crime scene. She said, “Um…looks to be male. Based on his size, I would say between one and five months old. Um…there are some teeth marks on the victim. They appear to be animal bites, maybe coyote or some other scavenger. I will need to get him on the table to know more.” She stood up and looked over at Jim who was staring at something. John looked over at Jim as well and asked, “Jim, did you hear any of what Jade just said?” “Yea…I heard every mother fuckin’ word…I have a feeling this is only the beginning of something a hell of a lot more terrifying.”

  He pointed with his right hand, a cigarette between his fingers, at a rock wall behind where the body was located. John and Jade came around and looked to see an inscription chiseled into the rock. Jim said, “This took a lot of time to do, guys. This is not some street artist. This is something way freakier.” John looked on and read the inscription out loud.

  “Psalm 26

  “Vindicate me, O LORD,

  For I have walked in my integrity.

  I have also trusted in the LORD;

  I shall not slip.

  Examine me, O LORD, and prove me;

  Try my mind and my heart.

  For Your loving kindness is before my eyes,

  And I have walked in Your truth.

  I have not sat with idolatrous mortals,

  Nor will I go in with hypocrites.

  I have hated the assembly of evildoers,

  And will not sit with the wicked.

  I will wash my hands in innocence;

  So I will go about Your altar, O LORD,

  That I may proclaim with the voice of thanksgiving,

  And tell of all Your wondrous works.” NKJV

  Jim and Jade looked on at John as he read, and when he had finished Jim said, “I don’t know about you two, but I think unholy fuckin’ shit about covers it.” John looked at the wall and said, “You’re not kidding, Jim. Someone took a hell of a lot of time and even cited the version of the bible this was taken from.” Jade looked on and asked, “What does it mean?” John and Jim looked at each other, and Jim said, “Big trouble, that’s what it means, Jade, big mother fuckin’ trouble.”

  The smiling face of the young woman at the front door of the house on San Jose Street in Granada Hills was full of excitement. Emily Robinson had owned the home in the upper middle class neighborhood for thirty years. She was pleasant but firm with the girl. “Thank you for stopping by, young lady, but whatever you’re selling I’m certain I already have it.” “No ma’am. I am a hundred percent certain that you don’t have what I’m offering.” The young woman had a bible in her hand and dead eyes. Emily knew what she was selling, and she wasn’t interested. Her grandson, Robert, came walking up to the
door and asked, “Who’s dat, granny?” Robert was small for his age. At one, he was only about the size of a six-month old. He walked with a slight limp, and the girl greeted him enthusiastically.

  “My name is Lisa. Lisa Farmer. What’s your name?” Her smile lit up the dimly lit foyer, and he said “Robert!” proudly. Lisa reached her hand in and took Robert’s hand and shook it gently and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Robert.” Emily had had enough and said, “Thank you but no thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have grandchildren to feed.” Lisa started to say something, but the door slammed in her face. She walked back out to the street where a white windowed van was parked. The driver got out and asked, “Did you deliver the good news?” Lisa looked at the ground and said, “She wouldn’t listen.” The man put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Not everyone will, Lisa, not everyone will. Did you talk to anyone else at the house?” She nodded and said, “A little boy named Robert. He was very sweet.” The man smiled and said, “Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Perhaps the Lord will work through Robert.” Lisa got into the van, and the driver closed the door. He jotted down the address and then got into the van and drove off down the street.

  He called back to Lisa and asked, “Do you think that Robert would come to you if you called him?” “Yes, pastor, I do.” “Good, good. That’s enough for today. I will take you all back to the house.” The driver smiled and began singing a hymn. The others joined in. He held the steering wheel tight between his fingers and said to himself quietly, “I heard you slam the door on God there, Grandma. You have dipped your hands in muddy water and through God the Father I shall make you clean.”

  About the Author

  Roy A Teel Jr. is the author of several books, both nonfiction and fiction. He became disabled due to Progressive Multiple Sclerosis in 2011 and lives in Lake Arrowhead, CA with his wife, Tracy, their tabby cat, Oscar, and their Springer Spaniel, Sandy.