With sloth-like movements, Wind Dancer climbed the steps to join Jacque. “He is here. I can’t see him, but I smell the stench of death.”
Jacque inhaled then shook his head. “All I smell is the wind off the lake. Fishy. Maybe that’s what you smell.”
“No,” Wind Dancer mumbled, scanning the surrounding area once more. “We should go inside,” he said, speeding up to catch up with Cleo.
Jacque stood frozen in place for a few more seconds then motioned for a couple of uniformed officers. “Keep your eyes open. If you see someone who looks like me—it ain’t. Call me on your radio.” They agreed with confusion etched across their pinched foreheads. Jacque continued up the steps to join his new weird friends entering the museum.
He entered the main foyer, surprised at both the quiet and activity. Although the public remained expelled from the joys of natural history, the scientists, archeologists, and numerous other people it took to keep such a place in prime condition and relevant, continued about their daily tasks. The ones who worked with the Native American exhibits received inoculations against smallpox as did other scientists who processed the crime scene from the night Wind Dancer and Neosho crossed over. The CDC continued their due diligence, taking blood samples of everyone present the night everything went to Hell. For now, it appeared they’d dodged a bullet. The good news had come on their way to the museum; both Cleo and Wind Dancer tested negative for smallpox.
When asked why they needed shots, the CDC explained they’d found strains of a rare form of flu virus from some jungle in Southeast Asia. They planted the suggestion it may have found its way to the Field Museum through whoever stole the priceless artifacts from the Native American Exhibits. Since this remained a hub for out-of-town tourists, it seemed prudent to shut down the museum for a few days. The story made a ninety-second blurb on the evening news then it no longer mattered. The gang problem took center stage again.
Seeing Susie, the large T. rex in the foyer, always caused one corner of Jacque’s mouth to curve up. As a kid, he’d loved dinosaurs. Watching Wind Dancer see it for the first time amused him even more. The night he’d crossed over he hadn’t come through here. Jacque watched as the Pawnee jerked Cleo behind him and fanned out his arms in a show of protection, terror marring his face.
“It’s a dinosaur, Joseph,” Cleo tried to explain as she pushed down his stiff arms. She slipped her hand into his. “It’s okay. These are bones.”
“What kind of monsters live here?”
“These lived millions of years ago. This would be a good place for you to learn about the world. My father loved this museum. It gave me a very unique education growing up. Maybe we can explore it together when this mess is cleared up, Joseph. There is nothing alive here to be afraid of.”
He stared down at her in concern. “Yet, here I am.”
Cleo’s eyes widened. “A very good point. I suppose if you can cross over”—she stared up at Susie, the T. rex, with new awareness—”so can something like a dinosaur.”
“Well let’s get the bogeyman talk over with so we can move on, shall we?” Jacque said shoving past them toward the Native American section. His voice edged with contempt, but Cleo guessed if a skinwalker who looked like her was traipsing around the city infected with smallpox, she might be a little unnerved, too. Probably didn’t relish the thought of his double gobbling up souls right and left either. She understood the detective didn’t really believe the Indian lore, but, to be proactive, he went along with the possibility of all the madness unfolding around them. After all, he saw the Frenchman himself and how he tried to lure her away and would have if not for Wind Dancer.
“You two are creepin’ the hell out of me.” Jacque stomped past them.
Cleo offered a patronizing chuckle then tugged Wind Dancer along after her as he kept a watchful eye on the T. rex. When they started to enter the wing of Native America, she noticed he’d spotted two large African elephants at the other end of the grand foyer. Cleo jerked him inside the Native American exhibit before he could begin another litany of questions.
“I know this a strange new world for you, Joseph, but we need you to focus on how we can best track down Neosho. Don’t let all this stuff…” Jacque waved his arms toward the main foyer. “Distract you from our job. Understand?”
He nodded. “Yes. Understand.” This section appeared to bring comfort to him as they walked around the exhibits. Sometimes he would touch an artifact or gaze longingly at display cases with mannequins dressed in traditional native costumes. He found the empty case and pointed as Cleo came alongside him. “Free now.”
“Free.” She took a deep breath and locked onto his warm gaze. “I’m glad, Wind Dancer.”
Jacque let out an exasperated sigh then rolled his close-set eyes. “I feel like I’m in some romantic comedy when I’m with you two. This way.” He motioned with an impatient wave of his hand.
He led them to the Pawnee earth lodge where a number of people waited. Cleo could see them even before they entered, sitting around the walls of the structure on the crude beds covered in buffalo hides. As Wind Dancer passed through the opening, he stopped abruptly, as they met his curiosity with apathy. A quick head count revealed ten men between the ages of mid-thirties to maybe late sixties. Their features and skin tone, although not as dark, reminded her of Wind Dancer. Modern life had added a few extra pounds on the older ones, and the younger men also bore expressions of boredom.
Dr. Kuzma stood at the rear as if he’d been lecturing to a group of disinterested junior high students. He moved toward the detective in short, jerky movements, rubbing his hands up and down the outside of his pant legs as if he’d eaten buttery popcorn.
“Detective.” The physicist spoke with enthusiasm as he extended his hand. “I finished catching the Pawnee delegation up on our discovery.”
The absence of expression on their faces reminded Cleo of Wind Dancer when he evaluated his surroundings. The younger ones, even sitting down, were taller than their elders and most likely taller than Wind Dancer. She noticed Jacque shiver as a cool breeze swept through the lodge. She’d experienced the same sensation many times throughout her life. As a child, she’d thought it magical. Now she knew forces other than magic dictated the world. Stepping closer to Jacque, she made room for Wind Dancer to fully enter the earth lodge.
The other Pawnee got to their feet in slow motion and stared in disbelief at Wind Dancer who met their curious stares with his own. Cleo could imagine him on the plains staring down his enemy as he plotted his next move.
“They must look strange to him but somehow familiar.” Jacque took a deep breath, speaking out of the side of his mouth.
“He’s watching, but his nostrils are flaring like he’s smelling them. With all the deodorant, body wash, and shampoos on the market, you think he can detect the real men standing before him?” Cleo wondered out loud.
He appeared formidable as he approached them and sized them up as if they were about to receive his hatchet in the head.
They stood still, letting him evaluate each of them. “I think somehow they know this is no ordinary man.” Jacque cocked his head as if fascinated by the encounter.
To the oldest one, Wind Dancer spoke in his native tongue and received only a small nod of recognition. He laid a hand on the senior’s shoulder and squeezed. The younger men watched with suspicion and distrust in the way they shifted their weight from one hip to another.
“Jacque, can you sense there may be a wave of intimidation and testosterone flooding the room?”
“Yeah, but they remain respectful even in their silence,” he whispered in her ear.
The physicist tried to explain. “Wind Dancer, these men have come here to celebrate the Morning Star ceremony. It is a program set up by Cleo’s father.” Dr. Kuzma motioned for Cleo to stand next to the Pawnee who appeared to not be impressed with their presence. “This is a Pawnee earth lodge.”
Wind Dancer frowned. “I know what it is,” he said
offhandedly as he moved away and inspected the entire area. He moved to the rear wall and laid his hand on the very area where Cleo had seen someone peek in and motion for her days earlier.
“This is all very confusing for Wind Dancer.” Cleo tried to explain his aloofness.
“We wish to speak to him.” The older Pawnee shifted his attention to Wind Dancer. “Alone. Leave us.”
“Yeah. I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jacque quipped as his phone vibrated. He took it out and read the text. “Maybe another time.”
“The time is now, Detective. You”—the old Pawnee pointed to the physicist— “must go as well.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Dr. Kuzma said, hurrying out of the earth lodge.
Cleo stood her ground, nudging Jacque. “Go. Take your call. I’ll stay with Joseph.” A dubious expression flooded his eyes. “I mean it. Go. I know more about this culture than you anyway. You’ll probably put your foot in your big mouth if you stay.”
“Hey! I resemble that remark.” Jacque twisted his bottom lip as if insulted.
“You certainly do, Detective. Go.” Cleo laid a hand on his forearm and whispered, “If I haven’t already told you, thanks for everything.”
He rolled his eyes in impatience and sighed to cover up what she knew to be soft feelings he fought to embrace for his two new friends. “Watch yourself. You guys are a migraine waiting to happen.” With his exit, she patted his shoulder.
~~~~
All this feeling of friendship and giving a rip about more than the big picture toyed with Jacque’s tough-guy image. He was too old to be taking care of grown people with the reasoning power of two teenagers with raging hormones.
He walked out into the grand foyer and found the café and ordered a black coffee. Pulling out a nearby chair from a bistro table, he could see all the comings and goings of the few people who meandered inside the museum. He set the cup down then took out his phone to check in at the office. While the phone buzzed, he took two sips of the dark brew and wished he’d added cream and sugar to dissipate the crude oil thickness.
“Detective Marquette here. What’s up?” He listened, eyes drifting to each person who came too close. “Excuse me. What did you say? Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?” he snapped. “On whose authority?”
~~~~
“I am Thomas Two Feathers. They say you crossed over from another time,” the older Pawnee said, moving to the center of the room. He motioned for the others to sit down. “Is this true?”
Wind Dancer evaluated the group as he faced the men. “It is true. You seem to be surprised.”
“Yes. My father and his father talked about the holes to another place and time when our people roamed free with the buffalo and made war with our enemies, the Sioux and Osage. These holes were forgotten. We do not know how to find them anymore.”
Cleo took a seat to stay out of the way and stared at the unfolding story before her. She wanted to drink in the beauty of the past meeting the future.
“It is hard on the other side to find them as well.”
“Dr. Kuzma told us how you showed him the openings. How do you see them?”
“I could not so much on the other side. But my friend Dr. Sommers, Cleopatra’s father, could see them clearly. On this side, they are visible to me and not to others. We knew sometimes the buffalo disappeared into these holes to hide from us.”
“It makes sense,” the older man voiced as he nodded in agreement.
“But they always returned. We watched them emerge many times. Those holes do not stay open long and open only after a storm. There are more of them in the spring and summer than times of great cold.”
“I want to go there, to see the land of my people.”
“It is a hard life, wise one. The jump is hard on the heart.” He lifted his fist to pound on his chest.
“I would like to try, Wind Dancer. I could teach my people.” He grinned with mischief twinkling in his eyes. “I could warn them to tell the generations to come to buy much land in Oklahoma where the oil is plentiful and then build many casinos.” The others laughed, too, and elbowed each other as the warrior cocked his head and furrowed his brow.
The old one held up his hand when Wind Dancer’s next words tumbled out quickly in their native language. “You speak our tongue, but most Pawnee no longer understand the words. The modern world has made our children forget and think of other things as important. I am ashamed to tell you this. Even my sons”—he indicated two men in their thirties— “can barely say a few sentences. Please. We must speak English.”
“An Osage crossed over to this world. He carries smallpox.” The bluntness affected the tribal members as Cleo expected. They exchanged concerned glances with one another. She wondered as they pulled back their shoulders and straightened if it was a century’s old instinct when facing an enemy. “I must find him before he infects the city. We may already be too late.”
“How can we help?”
“I do not know. Why do you come each year to do this ceremony?”
“To educate the children of our ways. To show them our culture was once strong and full of hope and beauty.”
“I am afraid there will be a battle here.” He glanced at the others. “She will be the center in the end. All this talk of smallpox puts fear into those who would try and stop the spread of disease. This is in the Osage’s plan. While these white men search for answers, he will find a way to return to the past and take Cleopatra with him. It is possible he will have other diseases to carry to our land and could destroy many people. I can’t let this happen. He must not be allowed to return or we will be no more. You will be no more.”
The older man stood straighter and focused on his delegation as if to evaluate their interest. “How many do you need?”
“The detective speaks of gangs. They are involved and exposed to this smallpox. You could be, too.”
“We have been idle too long. It is time we stood up to fight the evil of the world.” The elder once again took in the entire lodge then the men who rose to their feet. “You will have what you need, my friend.” Cleo stood with the realization something amazing was happening before her eyes. “Our children will know how their fathers, uncles, and brothers fought to save our way of life.”
Cleo could imagine them standing on the Nebraska plain, wind blowing through their hair, getting ready to raid their enemy. Their appearance morphed from apathetic men to anxious warriors. The fierce façade and rigid stance created a glimpse into the past when the Pawnee knew no fear of their enemies. A prickle of dread crept into her common sense, hoping Wind Dancer hadn’t persuaded these good men to sacrifice themselves for nothing. Would they be up for the task?
Chapter 16
“You can’t seal off part of my city.” Jacque stormed at Colonel Jefferson when he entered the precinct. The man stood waiting in his office, staring out the window as if consumed by thoughts he kept hidden. “And you sure as hell can’t order my men around like they work for you, because they don’t. This is America not Afghanistan. So get out of my office.”
“The FBI called your men in to help secure a six-block perimeter. No in or out.”
“You can’t keep people from going and coming. People need food, medical supplies, and they have jobs.”
“My men are distributing what is needed. Businesses in the area have been closed for the time being. The CDC continues a door to door along with the FBI to see if there has been any contact with members of the Death Apostles. Then they can receive treatment or be confined.”
Jacque placed his hands on his hips and separated his legs to form an angry stance then laughed. “You think they’re going to talk to you? They’re suspicious enough of the police, much less the FBI and other Feds poking their noses into their lives asking questions they think is none of your business. You’ll leave soon enough and then they’ll have to pay for talking to the wrong people about what they did and didn’t say to you.” He snorted then rub
bed his eyes. “They see the military passing out food and water and they’ll panic. Do you want a riot on your hands?”
“Of course not, Detective. But I don’t see we have a choice.”
“No. You had a choice when you sent those men across some parallel universe with smallpox in their system. Are you proud of the mess you created?”
“Our intentions were honorable, Detective.”
“Gee whiz,” he mocked. “I feel a lot better, Colonel.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
The detective rushed around the desk and got in the colonel’s face then jammed a finger in his chest. “I’m way past sarcastic, you pompous ass. Get those officers off the street or I’m going to the press to tell them what is really going on.”
“In such a move, I’ll have you arrested and locked up until this thing settles down. Do you really want to sit in a jail cell with some of Chicago’s more colorful residents?”
“Sure as hell beats the company I’m keeping in this office.”
The colonel moved toward the door then sniffed as he peered down his nose at Jacque. “Stay out of my way, Detective Marquette. It would be most unfortunate for you to get caught in the crosshairs, if you catch my drift.”
He strolled out into the chaos and disappeared into the crowd of other officials Jacque didn’t immediately recognize.
“Hey, Detective.” A young officer who more resembled a high school band major than part of Chicago PD, poked his head into the office. “Better flip on your TV. Looks like the Apostle neighborhood is up in arms about being detained. Might get ugly by nightfall.”
“Thanks, Pete,” Jacque said lifting the remote and hitting power.
He listened to a pretty reporter speculate on the situation then interview a spokesman for the mayor’s office. From the story being spun, the area went on lockdown due to a terrorist threat. Federal agencies could be spotted going door to door in order to bring the situation to a peaceful conclusion that would ensure residents an opportunity to continue with their daily routines.
Dark Side of Morning (Wind Dancer Book 1) Page 13
