Ancient Enemy Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Lukens, Mark

  David nodded and he watched her as she opened the notebook.

  Stella flipped from one page to the next; she flipped through page after page until she stopped where David had stopped drawing. Nearly two-thirds of the notebook had been filled with David’s drawings. She looked at him with shock in her eyes.

  “How did you learn how to do this?” she asked him.

  David stared at her for a long moment, and then he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told her.

  “Do you know what these things are that you’ve drawn?”

  “I don’t know,” he said again.

  Maybe he didn’t know what was in the notebook, Stella thought, but she definitely knew what it was. And she began to get the first far-off glimpses of hope in her mind. She dared to believe that the drawings in this notebook might be a way to fight that thing out there.

  *

  Cole searched through the house for the things they would need while Jose kept an eye and a gun on Needles. Cole could hear Needles pleading with Jose, but Cole knew Jose wouldn’t give in. They were all way beyond that now. Maybe they would have time to think about it later, but right now there was something out there that was impossible to fight. And with the sun setting soon, they had no choice but to do what it wanted.

  For a few moments Cole was afraid he wouldn’t be able to find anything to tie Needles up with and he would have to go out to the garage and look. Even if he had to go out to the garage, he believed that the thing out there wouldn’t kill him as long as he was doing what it wanted.

  But then Cole found a full roll of duct tape and lengths of rope in the bathroom cabinet underneath the sink.

  He didn’t remember seeing these before when he had initially searched the bathroom.

  But he didn’t let his mind think about what that meant.

  Instead, he wondered what kind of being was out there in the woods. What kind of thing could bring the dead back to life? Hollow people out and put pieces of his brother back together and reanimate them, use their bodies like puppets?

  Cole forced himself not to dwell on it right now. He needed to concentrate on this task.

  But thinking of going out to the garage had made him think of the snowmobile for a split second. Did the snowmobile even run? Even though the thing out there had ruined the pickup truck and Stella’s Suburban, had it somehow overlooked the snowmobile?

  He pushed the thought of the snowmobile from his mind. Maybe this thing could read minds. Who knew how powerful it was? And if it could read minds, then he didn’t want to give away his one slim hope of getting away.

  Stella had driven away from this thing down in New Mexico (if she was telling the truth, his mind whispered). If she and David had gotten away, then maybe he could, too.

  Cole placed the tape and the rope on the dining room table and he went into the kitchen to find some tools. There weren’t many tools in the cabin; he found a hammer, a screwdriver, a tin can full of different kinds of nails. But what he needed for their task, he found in the utensil drawer: various spoons and knives—and they would have to do.

  Cole had already searched the cabin for some kind of painkillers, even aspirins, something to help dull the pain for Needles. But there was nothing in the kitchen or the bathroom. He’d found a bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of regular aspirins. But both of the bottles were empty. He wasn’t sure if Tom Gordon had left empty bottles behind in his cabinets, or if the bottles had been emptied somehow before they got there.

  That thought caused a shiver to run down his spine.

  It doesn’t want Needles to be anesthetized, his mind whispered. It wants Needles to feel the pain; it wants Needles to feel every second of his eyes being carved out of his face.

  He pushed the thought away again as another wave of nausea washed over him.

  Cole wanted to force some whiskey down Needles’ throat to help ease the pain, but Jose didn’t want to do that; he said it was just a waste of time and they needed to hurry. Cole agreed that they needed to hurry, but he also suspected that Jose wanted to keep the whiskey for himself as a cocoon of numbness in case he needed it when the end came.

  Cole and Jose looked at each other, and then they looked at Needles.

  It was time.

  CHAPTER 35

  Needles was tied to one of the dining room table chairs with many lengths of rope, duct tape, and two more telephone cords. Jose tied the last of the bonds as Needles struggled and screamed in the chair; the chair’s wood creaked from his struggles, and it seemed like it might tip over, but it didn’t, and the bonds held. They had spread out a few of the large black garbage bags underneath the chair before they tied him to it. And then Cole had toenailed two of the chair legs to the wood floor with a few long nails from the tin can to keep the chair in place.

  Jose stood up and backed away from Needles. He glanced at Cole who looked miserable.

  “I wish we could’ve given him something for the pain,” Cole muttered.

  Jose’s expression had turned cold and hard; he was focused on what had to be done. “I told you, we don’t have enough time for that. We need to get this done before the sun goes down.”

  Neither one of them had to look towards the windows in the kitchen or the living room to tell that the sun was setting. The waning afternoon light filtered in through the curtains that covered the windows, casting a warm and yellowish light on the gruesome act that they were about to perform.

  Cole had asked earlier if they should kill Needles before they took his eyes out and at least spare him that pain. But Jose was adamant about keeping Needles alive; he reminded Cole that the thing out there wanted this done to Needles while he was still alive. And Cole didn’t argue with him about it anymore.

  Needles struggled in his chair, but then he gave up as he breathed heavily—the bonds were too strong, and there were too many of them crisscrossed around his body; there was no hope of him escaping and he realized that now. He looked around, his eyes wild with panic. He glanced at Jose, but he knew that there was no bargaining with him. His only chance would be with Cole.

  “You’re making a big mistake, Cole” Needles said, trying to keep his voice as calm and reasonable-sounding as possible. “That kid, he’s doing all of this somehow. I know it.”

  Cole looked away.

  “Listen to me, please. You need to kill that kid. That kid is doing all of this. He’s the demon. The devil. He’s going to get all of you in the end if you don’t kill him first.”

  Jose stood by the table and inspected the “tools” that Cole had laid out: various spoons, a few different kinds of kitchen knives, a bowl, some rags and a roll of gauze for cleaning up. The duct tape was near the tools. He picked up the roll of duct tape and tossed it to Cole. “Shut him up, will you?”

  Cole caught the roll of tape.

  Needles’ eyes followed the tape and he stared at Cole, pleading with him. “No, wait! You have to listen to me! I’m not crazy! I know what’s going on here! It’s that kid!”

  Cole wrapped the duct tape around Needles’ mouth, wrapping it around his head several times, covering the lower half of his face with the tape.

  Needles screamed into the tape and struggled again. Tears flowed from his eyes as he sobbed into the tape.

  Jose picked up a small, serrated kitchen knife and stood in front of Needles. He looked at Cole who stood behind Needles. “You ready?” he asked Cole.

  Cole managed a small nod as he swallowed hard. “I guess.”

  “Hold him still,” Jose said.

  Cole grabbed each side of Needles’ head and held him as still as he could. He pried Needles’ left eyelid open with his fingers as he held him.

  Jose brought the tip of the knife close to Needles’ left eye which was bulging with fear. The eye couldn’t look away; it couldn’t help but watch the tip of the knife as it got closer and closer. The knife shook a little in Jose’s unsteady hand.

  Just as Jose was about to sink the tip of the blade into the side o
f Needles’ eyeball, Needles jerked and Jose jabbed Needles in the cheek just below the eye. The wound began to bleed immediately. Blood ran down his cheek and down the tape, then it dripped down onto the cross hanging outside of his thermal shirt.

  Jose backed away, suddenly angry. “Shit, man. You’ve got to hold him still.”

  Cole dropped his hands away from Needles’ head and backed away. “I’m trying. He’s struggling too much.”

  Jose sighed and set the knife back on the table. He pulled his gun out from the waistband of his pants and he walked around to the back of Needles.

  “Struggling too much?” Jose asked, and then he wacked Needles on the back of the head with the butt of his gun, knocking Needles out instantly.

  Needles’ head slumped forward and his breathing was even and steady out of his nose.

  Jose stuffed his gun back into his pants and walked back to the table. He picked up the knife and a spoon. He looked at Cole. “Hold his eyelids open. I’m sure it doesn’t want these eyeballs damaged.”

  Cole shuddered, but he moved in beside Jose. He pried Needles’ left eye open and the eyeball stared back at them, lifeless and unconscious.

  “I’m going to cut it out and you get the bowl ready to put it in.”

  “Just hurry,” Cole said.

  *

  Thirty minutes later Cole and Jose sat at the dining room table, both of them exhausted. Needles was still unconscious and tied to the dining room table chair, his bloody head hung forward, blood-stained gauze and duct tape were wrapped around his face where his eyes used to be, but the tape was off of his mouth now to allow him to breathe more easily.

  Stella and David were still in the bedroom. Cole was about to go and get them. He and Jose had cleaned up the mess around Needles as best as they could. They put his eyeballs in a bowl and left them out on the front porch—a gift for that monster out there.

  Suddenly, Needles woke up. He lifted his head up and screamed. “My eyes! You took my eyes!”

  Cole jumped to his feet and ran over to Needles. “Just try to calm down, Needles.” His own words sounded surreal to his ears, this whole situation seemed unreal to him.

  “It hurts!” Needles howled. “It hurts so bad! Why did you do this to me, Cole?”

  “You deserved it, you sick son of a bitch,” Jose said. He was still seated at the dining room table a few feet away from Needles. “If you hadn’t shot that old man in the bank, we wouldn’t even be here.”

  Needles wouldn’t stop moaning and screaming. “Oh, God, where are you, Cole?” Needles rocked his head back and forth like he was trying to look around the room with eyes he didn’t have anymore.

  “I’m right here,” Cole said from right beside Needles. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at Needles, once his friend, now tied to a chair with his eyes carved out. What had he done? Cole asked himself. What had he become?

  Needles still looked around as he moaned, like he couldn’t quite place where Cole was. “It hurts so bad!! I can’t take the pain!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Jose screamed at Needles, and then he got to his feet beside the table and glanced at Cole. “Shut him up again, please.” Jose paced away from the table, into the hallway, he needed to be away from Needles, he couldn’t take the crying anymore, but even in here he could still hear Needles screaming and moaning.

  “Please, Cole!” Needles screamed. “I can’t take the pain anymore. I … I can’t take—”

  Needles’ last words were cut off by a booming gunshot in the cabin.

  Jose rushed back out from the hallway to see Cole standing behind Needles; Cole had his gun in his hand, still aimed at the back of Needles’ head. Needles was slumped forward in the chair as far as the rope and tape would allow him. His head was pitched forward and blood drained from the large wound in his forehead where the bullet had exploded out of his face. The gauze and tape over his eyes was stained dark red already, and a puddle of blood was forming on the garbage bag underneath the chair.

  Jose stared at Cole in shock. “What the fuck did you do?”

  Cole shook his head no as he stared at Jose with a vacant look in his eyes. “I couldn’t leave him suffering like that. I couldn’t let him keep feeling that kind of pain.”

  Jose paced around the living room, a rage building in him quickly. He ran his hand through his dark hair several times. “Did you stop to think that the thing outside didn’t want him dead?”

  Cole watched Jose. “I don’t care. I wasn’t going to let him keep on suffering.”

  Jose punched his fist at the air a few times in frustration, and then he turned to Cole. “Fuck! We needed Needles! What are we supposed to do if that thing out there wants another body part? We could’ve used Needles over and over again.”

  Cole felt that now familiar wave of nausea washing over him again, but this time it was Jose that nauseated him. He could feel his own rage building up inside of him, that rage that had been just beneath the surface of him the whole time he’d been in this cabin. “Let’s get Needles out on the front porch, and then it can have all the body parts it wants.”

  CHAPTER 36

  As the sun dipped down below the forest of trees in the west and the winter sky darkened in the east, Needles’ body lay on the floorboards of the front porch not too far away from his eyeballs which were offered up in one of Tom Gordon’s plastic cereal bowls. Both eyeballs faced the woods like they were looking at them. The freezing wind had picked up a little and the trees swayed, but there wasn’t any snow falling yet.

  Inside the cabin, Cole, Jose, and Stella sat at the dining room table. The area in the dining room had been cleaned up as much as possible, but the chair that Needles had been tied to was still stained with blood and it was pushed in at the table, the back facing the hallway. The wood floor still had dark smears of blood stained into it from where Cole and Jose had dragged Needles’ body outside. The coils of bloody rope and telephone cords were piled up near the freezer, and the duct tape and gauze that had been wrapped around Needles’ head and body was now in the trash can.

  David sat on the couch and watched the three as they sat at the table. He had his spiral notebook near him, but he wasn’t drawing in it now—it seemed like he was done with the things he had drawn. Every few minutes David glanced at the front door like he was expecting someone to come to the door.

  Jose sat at the table with his hands curled around the whiskey bottle. He sipped from the bottle every few minutes and he was beginning to get a little drunk. He was beginning to lose his control just a little. But he didn’t care; he needed the numbness that the whiskey brought with it, even if just for a little while.

  Cole and Stella sat close to each other at the table. The cabin was silent; the only sound that could be heard was the whistling winter wind outside whipping around the eaves. In the silence, Stella spoke.

  “I’m an archaeologist,” she said, and then she looked at Cole.

  Cole nodded; she’d already told him that before. He was tired now, beyond exhaustion. He wasn’t sure how many nights he’d stayed awake, but he was pretty sure he’d had less than eight hours of sleep in the last few days.

  “I specialize in the cultures of the Southwest Native Americans,” Stella continued, and it seemed like she was leading somewhere this time, like there was something she finally wanted to tell them, something she finally wanted to reveal. “Especially the Anasazi. The Anasazi were a group of people who lived in that region hundreds of years ago. They built massive cities all over the region. They built kivas and they constructed roads that went on for miles and miles. They built some of their cities right into the sides of cliffs, massive cities carved right into the solid rock. The only way to get up to the city was by ladders or hand and toe holds carved right into the rock.”

  Stella sipped her coffee. She glanced at David who watched her, and then she looked at Cole who was listening to her. “These cities, and some of their other cities, were highly defensible, like they were constantly at
war and constantly defending themselves, like they were constantly afraid of something. Some scientists speculate that they were afraid of other tribes of Indians. But at that time, the Anasazi were the most advanced tribe in that area, maybe even in all of North America. Who would they need to be afraid of?”

  Jose sipped his bottle of whiskey. “Is this going somewhere?” he asked her, his words slurring just slightly.

  “About seven hundred years ago the Anasazi vanished,” Stella continued, undaunted by Jose’s remark.

  “Like many groups of people in North and South America, the Anasazi built massive cities and roads, they built an entire civilization, and then they abandoned them, like they just walked away. Recent findings at some Anasazi sites have uncovered mass graves of murder victims and evidence of cannibalism.”

  “The history lesson is fascinating …” Jose said and let his words trail off as he sipped more whiskey.

  Stella ignored Jose as she went on. “I got a call from a colleague, a man named Jake. He told me that he’d made an amazing discovery, the greatest of his life. Maybe one of the most amazing and important discoveries in archaeological history, and he asked for my help. He needed my expertise of the Anasazi history.”

  Stella paused for a moment, sipped more coffee, and then she continued. “Jake wanted everything kept quiet until we were sure what we’d really found. I drove there and met him at the dig site. It was amazing. Jake had found a hidden cave system, and inside the cave were the ruins of a civilization. An Anasazi civilization, I was sure of it.”

  Cole stared at Stella. “And that’s where this happened to you and David? Like what’s happening here.”

  “Yes. That’s where I found David. He was bloody, but not hurt. But he couldn’t remember what had happened. He wouldn’t even talk to any of us at first. He was afraid of everyone. Except me.”

  Stella looked at David to gauge his reaction. He just stared back at her with his dark eyes, eyes that were almost black. He sat motionless on the couch.