They might be able to resist these creatures' power, but they were not immune from physical contact. It was only a matter of time before the five of them were overwhelmed. Glen looked toward the stone circle at the head of the room. He still thought that was the key. If they had any hope at all, they had to destroy that object.
The generator engine started, coughed, caught, held.
As Glen seized the cables, a ripple in the air passed over them, under them, through them. It was followed by a deafening screech, and everyone's head whipped around toward the head of the room.
This figure was no mummy or corpse. It was the being Cameron had photographed in his friend's house, and it was very much alive. It had also grown. The creature in the Polaroid had been five foot five at the most, but now it was easily twice that height. Standing in front of the carved round stone, it hovered a foot or two off the floor, arms bent at the elbow and stretched forward as though waiting to catch a ball. Its black eyes were deep set and angry, and they scanned the long room, looking for something.
Looking for them.
Where were the living beings? Glen had wondered, and now he knew. There was only one and this was it. The mummies, the skeletons, the corrupted artifacts, and everything else were like a rich man's discarded suits, items that might still have some viability, but that had been worn once and were used no longer. He had no idea what had prompted that comparison, but he had the feeling that was as close as he was going to get to understanding what this creature was and how it operated.
The fierce stony face looked upon them with its hard harsh glare beneath bright orange hair.
And smiled.
It was the most horrible smile he had ever seen, more awful than anything he could imagine, an evil smile that carried with it the knowledge of centuries, of millennia. This creature had been here long before America was born, long before there had been people on this planet, and Glen was filled with a deep sense of despair. How could they ever hope to stop it, a ragtag group of ill-informed do-gooders gamely attempting to battle a power far beyond their ken?
He continued to hold the cables, one in each hand. He glanced to his left at Pace and Vince and Cameron.
Cameron.
The boy was here, he realized. After all that had happened, events had conspired to put the two of them here in this place at the same time. It was like the painting after all.
Hope flared within him. The entity at the front of the room was vastly powerful, infinitely evil, and if they had the slightest chance, they had to move fast. From deep within its form came a gurgling, a rumbling, like sewage flowing through subterranean passages. Higher up, on a surface level, laughter began, low, steady, even laughter.
The skeletons and mummies were still roving, but they no longer seemed bent on attack. They bopped around the room like free molecules, having handed over the responsibility of killing the infidels to their leader.
"Follow me and run," Glen ordered. He nodded at Vince and Pace. "Carry the generator. Have tazers ready." He looked at Cameron. "I want you by my side. Can you do it?"
The boy swallowed, then nodded.
"Then let's go. Now!"
Cables still in hand, Glen rushed toward the front of the room. Everyone kept up, Cameron on one side of him, Melanie with her taser on the other, Vince and Pace right behind him with the generator. He wished the chamber wasn't so long, wished there wasn't so much ground to cover before they reached the monster. He readied himself for an attack, prepared to be fried by lasers shooting out of those deep dark eyes or thrown backward by an invisible force, but nothing happened. They ran past skulls and mummies, dashed unscathed over shrunken heads.
He reached the giant creature floating off the floor and instantly shoved both cables upward into its midsection. The laughter abruptly stopped. He didn't know why he had been allowed to charge so openly, but he had, and he let go of the cables, yelling, "Taser! Taser!"
Pace shot a wired dart into what should have been the monstrous being's groin. Melanie's stun gun wouldn't work, but it didn't matter, the damage had been done. The creature spiralled upward, like a deflating balloon whose tie string had been pulled, and suddenly the dark floor, walls, and ceiling were gone. They saw the room for what it was, a space bounded by pelvic bones and shoulder blades and vertebrae. Screeching, the monster shot up into one of the palace's spires, stuck in a prison of rib cages and radii. It struggled, tried to free itself, but its hair became tangled in the bones.
Glen ran up to the round carved stone. It was as tall as he was and balanced on its side. Lunging, he pushed it over, hoping it would shatter into a thousand pieces. It did not, but on impulse he picked up first one cable, then the other. He pushed the cables against the stone, making a specific effort to press one on the disturbing spiral they'd seen in the hole outside. He would not have been surprised if the circular object crumbled or shattered. But instead, it brightened from gray to white and then melted like an ice cube, the symbols disappearing first, then the whole stone dissolving into a clear liquid mess at his feet.
From the hollow spire above, the creature that had been behind all of this, that had destroyed Bower and terrorized the entire Southwest, that had put an end to great civilizations of the past and had been poised to do the same once again, squealed crazily. Glen did not know if this being was the last of its kind or whether it had always been the only one, but as he heard that squeal fade away, as he looked up to see the giant form shrivel and shrink, its hair falling from above like orange feathers off a molting bird, he knew that it would not be threatening anyone else in the future. It was over, it was done, and around the room mummies and skeletons were dropping in place, although they did not disappear.
Sweating profusely, every muscle in his body exhausted, feeling as though he'd just run a marathon, Glen moved next to Melanie, held her, leaned on her.
"Is that it?" Cameron asked. "Is it dead?"
"It's dead," his uncle assured him.
"But somebody better come back afterward with bulldozers," Melanie said. "And bury this place."
"Seconded," Glen said.
And they shut off the generator and made sure they had everything they'd brought with them before starting back and heading out.
Epilogue
The morning sun beat down on their heads as Glen and Melanie stood in the desert behind McCormack's house, trying not to listen to the professor and his wife arguing inside. McCormack was returning to New Mexico tomorrow with a team of anthropologists and archeologists from several universities, but Alyssa didn't want him to go. Pace had already returned to Chaco Canyon, and Vince and Cameron were on their way to Springerville--or what was left of it. He and Melanie were the only ones who didn't seem to have something to do or somewhere to be.
Melanie pushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. "Summer's winding down."
"Yeah."
"I was going to say school will be starting in a few weeks. But there is no school. There is no . . . Bower." She shook her head. "Does that mean I get to file for unemployment? I have no idea how this works. I don't even know who I should talk to about it."
"We'll figure it out."
"My truck's gone, too. I don't even own a vehicle." She suddenly thought of something. "I don't even have any money. My bank's disappeared."
Glen took her hand. "We'll go back to my place," he said. "In California. Even if I decide not to live there, I still have to sort through my mother's belongings. I've put it off long enough."
"Where do you want to live?"
"I don't know."
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know that either." He paused, wondering if he should say what he'd been thinking, took the leap. "But whatever it is, I want to do it with you."
She hugged him, and they said nothing for a few moments. "Were those really your parents in there?" she asked finally.
He nodded, a lump in his throat. "Yeah." He found it hard to speak, and his eyes misted over; he had to blink bac
k tears. He took a deep breath. "I think you would've liked them." The tears spilled onto his cheeks. He held her tightly, pressing his face against her hair, not wanting her to see him.
She squeezed back, and he felt her body shaking beneath his hands. She was crying, too. He thought of her parents, George and Margaret. "I'm sure I would've," she said.
And they stood that way for a long while. Until Professor McCormack, no longer fighting with his wife, called to them from a bedroom window and told them to come inside. It was time for lunch.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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