by Lukens, Mark
Cardenelli was silent on the phone, but he was breathing heavy like he was doing something with the phone up to his ear.
“It’s going to take me a few hours to get David settled in and cell phone service can be spotty out here.”
“You informed Agent Hawthorne that you’re leaving?”
“Agent Hollings,” Palmer corrected and then he almost added: I’m not asking you for your permission. “Yes. I told him I’d try to be back in a few hours. David’s had a rough time; he saw his aunt die right in front of him.”
“Yeah. Of course.” Cardenelli sounded distracted. “I’m coming down there. Hopping on a plane as quickly as I can.”
Palmer figured Cardenelli would come down here. This wasn’t his jurisdiction by far, but some of the murders this killer had committed had happened in the Denver area, and Cardenelli wasn’t going to miss this spotlight for the world. Palmer was sure all of this would be leaked to the media soon enough and an army of reporters and photographers would descend upon this small town like a cloud of locusts, just like they had seven years ago.
Palmer hung up and walked towards David and the pickup truck.
It’s going to come back, David had said—this wasn’t over.
Palmer’s stomach was in knots at the thought of driving out to Joe Blackhorn’s property again, but if there was something at Joe Blackhorn’s house that could help David fight the Ancient Enemy, then he was going to do it. At least they weren’t going back to that ghost town, and that church.
CHAPTER 39
Cole
Costa Rica
Cole was pretty sure he had the pilot convinced to fly them out of here. The pilot had told them he could get them as far as Mexico, but he knew someone else there who could take them the rest of the way into New Mexico. Cole had offered the pilot a thousand dollars plus the Toyota 4x4 they owned—they wouldn’t need it anymore now because Cole had a feeling that one way or another he and Stella weren’t ever coming back to Costa Rica. The paperwork for the vehicle was in the glove box, but he was sure the pilot, Juan Carlos, had ways of making money off of the vehicle. The Toyota would be associated with their old fake names, along with the house he had burned down hours earlier. And now they were going back to New Mexico, back to the horrors they had run from seven years ago. It was crazy going back there, but Stella was right—they had to do their best to protect David. And the Ancient Enemy wouldn’t ever stop hunting them no matter where they went; Cole could see that now.
And maybe Stella was right, maybe if that thing, whatever the Ancient Enemy really was, if it killed David, the last shaman, maybe it would really be free then to do whatever it wanted. Maybe it would bring a tidal wave of death across the land, an unstoppable force that could kill all life if it wanted to. Cole wasn’t sure how it would work, maybe the thing could multiply itself after it killed the shaman, or the thing would turn into a biblical plague or grow into an unimaginable beast. If this thing was an alien living in another dimension, then what did that make David? An alien? Part alien?
Cole couldn’t ponder those things right now, it was too big for his mind and it only frustrated him; he only liked problems that he could solve, problems that were possible to solve, his mind didn’t work well with the abstract. And right now he was focused on getting him and Stella the hell out of here.
The pilot Juan Carlos was a talker. He was definitely interested in the Toyota even though he pretended not to be, he was just trying to drive a harder bargain now for as much cash as he could get. Cole was doing his best not to seem desperate, but it was hard not to seem desperate at a tiny smuggler’s airport in the middle of a jungle.
“Two thousand,” Cole told Juan Carlos. “That’s as much as I can do. We don’t have much more than that for ourselves.”
Juan Carlos pretended to be thinking it over. He looked up at the stormy sky again, he was about to continue his shtick about the storm to the north being too dangerous to fly into.
Cole had no doubt that flying into a storm like that was dangerous, but he knew these pilots had flown in some of the worst conditions on short notice when the money was right.
“If that’s not enough money, then I’m sure one of your buddies back there will do it for fifteen hundred,” Cole said, turning away to head back to the building; this was his last bluff.
Juan Carlos laid a gentle hand on Cole’s arm, that wide smile back under his bushy mustache. “Amigo, please. We can talk about this.”
“I’ve been trying to talk about it.”
“What’s your hurry?” Juan Carlos asked. “Some kind of trouble you are running from, yes?” He had turned suddenly serious, his smile disappearing.
“You could say that,” Cole said.
“Who is chasing you, my friend?”
“You’d never believe me if I told you.”
Juan Carlos feigned shock, he even looked hurt. “Just tell me. Maybe I could help.”
“Doubt it.”
“Maybe I know others that could help. We do more than just fly passengers here, you know.”
Yeah, that’s why I’m here, Cole thought, but he didn’t say it. “I don’t have much time. You gonna do this or not?” He glanced back at the building. He could just make out Stella’s figure in the darkness of the large doorway. He was glad he could still see her; he didn’t like leaving her alone in that building with those criminals any longer than he had to.
Cole looked back at Juan Carlos. “Well? Do we have a deal?”
Juan Carlos nodded, blowing out smoke from the joint he’d been puffing on. He thrust out his hand. “Si, we have a deal.”
As Cole shook the pilot’s hand, they both looked back at the building. Stella was running towards them now, shouting at them as the garage door started closing. Cole’s heart leapt in his chest, his heartbeat stopping for a moment.
“It’s here!” Stella yelled as she ran towards them.
Juan Carlos pulled his hand out of Cole’s hand, suddenly suspicious. “What’s going on here?”
“We need to go right now,” Cole said.
Juan Carlos pulled out a pistol from under his shirt, aiming it at Cole. “Who are you? Why do you really want me to fly you away from here?”
Cole raised his hands in surrender and Stella stopped running a few feet away.
“What happened in there?” Juan Carlos asked Stella, backing up a few steps, aiming his gun at her now. “Tell me the truth.”
“They’re all dead.”
Juan Carlos backed away from Cole and Stella, still aiming his gun at them. “I’m not flying you two anywhere.”
CHAPTER 40
Palmer
Northern Arizona
Palmer drove Begay’s pickup truck down the road, deeper into the desert, leaving towns and buildings far behind now.
Thirty minutes later they stopped at the same gas station Begay had stopped at before when Palmer had come with him to Joe Blackhorn’s property—the last chance for gas and supplies, Begay had told him then, and it still appeared to be true.
Palmer went into the store and bought some water and food. He also bought two five-gallon plastic containers for gasoline, a pack of disposable lighters, and two flashlights with extra batteries.
David went to the bathroom while Palmer was at the counter to pay for the stuff he’d bought. David got a few looks from the people in the store because of the ancient writing painted on his hands and wrists, but no one said anything to him.
After Palmer paid for his supplies and gas, he carried the bags to the pickup truck. He filled up the two five-gallon plastic cans with gas and then used the rest of the fifty dollars he had paid on the pickup truck. He loaded the water, food, and flashlights into the back seats and he put the cans of gasoline in the back of the truck, using a bungee cord he found behind the driver’s seat to hold them in place.
David was still inside the store when Palmer was done so he decided to use the time to call his daughter. He was still getting a faint signal on h
is cell phone here, but he knew the signal would fade fast only a few miles down the road.
“Hello?” Eliza answered.
“Lizzy,” Palmer said. He was surprised she had answered the phone. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” At least she didn’t sound as angry as she had yesterday.
“The kids okay?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. Ted came up here last night. He’s with them now. Where are you?”
“I’m in New Mexico.” Actually, he was well into Arizona right now, but he didn’t think he needed to go into all of that.
“What are you doing down there?”
“I had a hunch the killer was coming down here for Captain Begay and David Bear.” He paused for just a moment. “I got him, Lizzy. Early this morning, I shot the killer in the head. I killed him.”
Eliza was quiet for a long moment. Palmer wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he told her the news: relief, tears, anger. Maybe it was taking her a moment to process what he had just said.
“I got him,” Palmer said again. “I got the one who killed your mom. You and Ted and the kids can go back home now. It’s over.”
It wasn’t really over, not at all, but it was over for Eliza. Palmer realized that he had wandered quite a ways from the pickup truck at the pumps. He had walked into the sand beyond the concrete parking area. He looked back at the truck and saw that David was sitting in the passenger seat now.
“When are you coming back?” Eliza asked. Her voice was a little husky, like she’d just been crying and was trying to hide it.
I might not be coming back at all. “Not for a little while. I’ve still got some things to do down here. Cardenelli’s coming.”
“You’re not in the FBI anymore.”
“I know, but I still have statements to make. I shot and killed a man. They had to take my gun. An investigation needs to be done.”
“Dad, I’m sorry about what I said before, about you not catching the killer. I was . . . I was just mad.”
“I know. It’s okay. I understand.”
“And I know you tried to get Mom and Gary to leave, just like you tried to get me to leave. Mom told me about it. Actually, she was a little pissed off—” Eliza stopped, choking up.
Palmer let her take her time.
“She was mad about it,” Eliza continued when she’d gotten herself together. “She was mad that I was leaving. Mad that I was listening to you.”
“Lizzy, you don’t have to tell me all of this.”
“I just wanted to apologize for saying that stuff to you. I was mad about Mom. Taking it out on you.”
“I know. I just wanted to call you and let you know that it’s over.” He paused for just a moment. “Lizzy, I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.” She was starting to cry again.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
They hung up and Palmer walked back to Begay’s pickup truck. He got in and closed the door, started it. The truck’s engine idled smoothly, the gas gauge showing that the tank was nearly full. He looked at David who was staring out the passenger window.
“I’m sorry about your aunt,” Palmer said.
David looked at him. “Thank you,” he whispered. He looked so tired; he looked hollow.
“You sure you still want to do this?” Palmer asked him.
David nodded, his lips tight, eyebrows knitting together in anger. “Yes. I have to try.”
“What’s out there at Joe Blackhorn’s house?” Palmer asked as he pulled the truck out of the gas station and onto the road, the desert stretching out before them with the mountains in the distance.
“I don’t know,” David said. He touched the necklace he wore, the large silver charm hanging from it. “Billy Nez said Joe Blackhorn left something there for me before he died. I need to find it.”
Palmer sped the truck up to seventy miles per hour, but it only felt like he was going forty; the truck was new and smooth and quietly powerful. “What are we supposed to do when you find . . . find this thing you’re looking for?”
“I’ll know when I find it,” David said and looked back out the passenger window at the desert whipping by in a blur.
Palmer decided not to ask David anymore questions. It would take at least another two hours to get to Joe Blackhorn’s property, and it seemed like they were going to drive in silence.
CHAPTER 41
Stella
Costa Rica
Stella had stopped cold as the pilot aimed his gun at her, then at Cole. “Throw your gun on the ground.”
Stella knew Cole was reluctant to give up his weapon, but the pilot looked more than willing to shoot both of them right now. Cole pulled his gun out and tossed it on the ground.
The pilot gestured with his gun at the building. “Start walking.”
“Juan Carlos,” Cole said. “You don’t understand what’s going on here. We need to leave right now.”
Juan Carlos sneered at Cole. “The both of you have about three seconds before I shoot.”
Cole met her eyes and then he turned and began walking. She fell in step beside him, with Juan Carlos behind them. The garage-style door was still closed and the other door she had run from was ajar. She could sense Cole’s tension as they walked; they had almost gotten on the plane, almost gotten out of here, and now they were marching right back to the Ancient Enemy.
When they were fifteen feet away from the door, Juan Carlos began shouting from behind them. “Fernando!”
No answer from inside the metal building—nothing but silence.
“Paco!” Juan Carlos called out from a few feet behind them when they were right in front of the door.
So there really was a pilot named Paco among the card players, Stella thought. But Paco wasn’t going to answer Juan Carlos, none of them were.
“You two go inside first,” Juan Carlos growled at them.
Cole took a deep breath and stepped inside. Stella was right behind him. They ventured a few steps inside the building. It took a couple of seconds for Stella’s eyes to adjust to the darkness even though the day was gray outside. But the dead bodies all over the floor materialized in the middle of the large room, puddles of blood under them, holes in their chests, abdomens, and smaller holes in their arms and throats where the tentacles had pierced their flesh. There were streaks of blood across the floor and spatters of it on the overturned card table and chairs. The playing cards and money were scattered all over the floor like dead leaves, some of them stuck in the drying blood.
“What happened?” Juan Carlos whispered from a few feet behind them. Stella guessed that he was trying to bark an order at her, but he sounded more shocked than angry.
Stella glanced over at the stoned woman in the recliner; she was sitting back, her throat slashed, her eyes wide open, her mouth frozen in a long frown. Then Stella looked across the room at the bar. The bartender was slung over the bar, face-down, his arms hanging down, his fingers touching the puddles of blood, his shotgun on the floor just out of his reach.
“Who did this?” Juan Carlos demanded, still staying a few feet behind them. “Where are they?”
“Listen to me,” Cole said, speaking slowly and carefully, his hands still raised a little. He hadn’t turned around to look at Juan Carlos. “We need to leave right now. All three of us. What’s after us is very dangerous. It’s going to kill you if you don’t come with us.”
“It?” Juan Carlos said, spitting the word out.
“I don’t know what it is,” Cole said, still not turning around to face Juan Carlos. “Some kind of demon.”
“Demon?” Juan Carlos shouted. “You expect me to believe that?”
One of the men on the floor started to move, shifting slightly, pulling a hand up out of the puddle of blood. Stella watched as the man sat up, his dead eyes focused on nothing. Another sound pulled her attention to the bar where the bartender was moving his arms. The woman with the slashed throat shot forward, getting up to her feet and swaying
just a bit.
“What is this?” Juan Carlos whispered from behind them.
Stella was sure she would feel the impact of a bullet in her back at any moment, but then she could hear Juan Carlos backing up towards the door.
She and Cole turned around at the same time.
Juan Carlos stared at the dead people as they all got to their feet. He made the sign of the cross on his chest with his left hand but still had his gun in his right hand. He stumbled just a bit back to the half-open door that led outside, almost falling.
“There’s a demon inside of them,” Cole told Juan Carlos. “We have to go now!”
Juan Carlos stared in disbelief, his arm shaking so badly Stella thought he was going to drop his gun. But he believed—at that moment the pilot believed everything Cole was telling him. He turned and ran.
Stella and Cole followed Juan Carlos out through the doorway and across the field of grass and weeds, running towards the line of airplanes.
When they were close to the airplanes, Cole ducked down and picked up his gun from the grass, aiming it at the pilot. “Juan Carlos, turn around!”
For a second Stella didn’t think the pilot was going to listen, but then he stopped and turned around.
“Throw your gun away,” Cole told him.
Juan Carlos hesitated, but his eyes went to the building beyond them.
Stella turned around and saw that the dead were pouring out through the open door. She could see the black tentacles poking out of them, whipping around in the air.
“Juan Carlos,” Cole said. “We don’t have much time!”
The pilot tossed his gun away and then ducked under one of the better-looking airplanes and pulled a pair of wooden chocks away from the wheels, throwing them out in the grass. Then he opened the door on the side of the plane. Stella darted into the airplane before the pilot could get inside, crawling to the back of it. The plane rocked a little with her movements, the whole aircraft leaning back just a bit. Juan Carlos got in and then Cole; he pulled the door shut, locking it. Juan Carlos twisted a key, flipped switches, and then the engine started, the propeller on the nose of the plane spinning to life.