Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7)

by Anthony M. Strong

  Decker decided the floor was his best option and sat with his back to the chest of drawers they had used to barricade the door. Neither man slept. Decker was worried about Agent Fowler, Robyn, and Tieg. He trusted them not to venture outside, but they would worry, none-the-less. Regardless, a return to the hotel before daybreak was too risky, and neither he nor Barnes had brought their cell phones. With no other option, he settled down to wait out the hours.

  When dawn broke, they left and made their way back toward the hotel. They had barely covered half the distance when the hotel doors flew open and Robyn hurried down the steps. She rushed toward them, a big grin on her face. Tieg, elated, ran ahead of her. Special Agent Fowler followed behind at his own pace, obviously relieved to see the pair, but unwilling to express it with such exuberance.

  “Oh my God, I’m so happy to see the pair of you.” She flung her arms around Decker, then did the same to Barnes. “We couldn’t tell what was happening. I thought that hideous creature might’ve gotten you.”

  “Not a chance,” Decker said, faking a nonchalance he didn’t totally buy into. “We were fine.”

  “Except we had to spend the rest of the night locked inside with Carlton in that mangy old cabin,” Barnes said, a tinge of disgust in his voice. “That guy needs a maid more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “He doesn’t get many visitors,” Robyn replied.

  “And I can see why.” Barnes frowned. “The signs he has peppered around warning people off are bad enough, but man, does it reek in there. I used to play football back in high school, and it smelled worse than my old locker room. I was holding my breath for the first fifteen minutes we were there.”

  “The place could certainly use an air freshener or ten,” Decker agreed. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. I miscalculated.”

  “How so?” Fowler asked.

  “I thought that padlocking the mine entrance would keep the creature contained. I was wrong. It escaped anyhow. I only hope it didn’t kill anyone else.”

  “Might be an idea to check the mine,” Barnes said. “If that thing busted through the gates, we need to know.”

  “Agreed.” Decker nodded. “Probably sooner rather than later.”

  “How about now?” Fowler suggested. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Suits me,” Decker replied.

  Robyn shook her head. “Not until all of you have eaten something.” Her gaze shifted between Barnes and Decker. “You must be famished.”

  “This is more important.” Decker was, in fact, hungry, but he didn’t want to waste another moment. If there was a problem with the mine entrance, they would need to figure out how to solve it before darkness fell again and the creature emerged once more.

  “All right,” Robyn said. “But I’m going to rustle up some breakfast, anyway. Don’t be too long. When you return, I expect you to eat.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Barnes said with a chuckle. “You’re worse than my mother.”

  “Dang right I am.” Robyn pursed her lips. “Now scoot. And don’t be long.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Decker replied. Then he turned toward the trail with the two FBI agents at his side.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  They made their way up the trail as the sun rose higher in the sky. Far above them, a prairie falcon rode the thermals in lazy wide circles looking for prey, hoping to snag a jackrabbit, or possibly even an unlucky collared lizard or desert iguana. After his encounter with the creature the night before, Decker could easily sympathize with whatever poor desert dweller fell victim to the prowling raptor.

  After a ten-minute hike, they reached the flat plateau in front of the mine. Beyond this the trail wound higher, creosote bushes and sagebrush pushing in on all sides. It was up this path that Decker and Barnes had followed the pair of interlopers the previous day.

  Decker came to a halt and looked around. Nothing looked out of place, and when he approached the mine’s entrance, he discovered the gates were still padlocked.

  “All secure,” he said, tugging on the chains just to make sure. “The creature didn’t get out this way.”

  “That’s a relief, at least.” Barnes wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

  “On the contrary, it’s worse.” Decker scanned his surroundings, paying close attention to the sandy earth under their feet. If the creature had been here recently, it would have left faint but distinguishable tracks. He could easily see their own boot prints, and those of the two men they encountered the previous day. He even noticed the impression of older footprints, probably left by the geologists and search and rescue team earlier. “It means the creature is escaping the mine from another location.”

  “Or it left the mine after the first killings and hasn’t returned,” Fowler said.

  “It’s possible.” Decker rubbed his chin. “But I still think my original assessment is correct. The creature has been trapped in the mine since pioneer days. That’s the only scenario that makes sense given the original incident and the fact that the mine entrance was blocked until recently. Those geologists were the first people to venture that deep into the mine since Robyn reopened it. The three corpses they found appeared to be hiding from something. They were afraid. There was a symbol drawn into the earth nearby, which denotes a superstitious angle. The geologists found bones too, suggesting violent deaths occurred in the tunnels prior to their own fatal encounter. This is ground zero, I’d stake my reputation on it. The creature probably has an attachment to this place. I’ll further speculate that it doesn’t do well in daylight given the circumstances of each attack. I’m sure it returns here before dawn.”

  “And let’s not forget that it can fly.” Barnes looked unhappy. “As if a demonic mummified skeleton with hypnotic eyes wasn’t enough.”

  “It flies too?” Now it was Fowler’s turn to look distressed. “How is that even possible?”

  “How is a walking homicidal skeleton possible?” Decker countered. “Sometimes it’s better to worry less about the how, and a little more about the why. In this case, what purpose does the entity serve and who summoned it?”

  “You think that abomination was put here deliberately?”

  “I think it’s a strong possibility. How many other gold mines do you know that have their own resident murderous corpse?”

  Fowler shrugged. “You’re the expert, I guess.”

  “This is all very well,” Barnes said. “But it doesn’t get us anywhere. Regardless of its origin, we know there’s a creature that shouldn’t exist running around killing people, because we’ve seen it with our own eyes. Heck, it almost killed us. We know it can fly, which means it can cover longer distances than would be possible on foot, especially over this terrain.”

  “We also know it didn’t leave the mine through this entrance,” Fowler added. “And if we work from Decker’s assumption that the creature uses the mine tunnels as its home base, that only leaves one conclusion.”

  “It’s getting in and out through a second location,” Decker said. “One that must have also been opened recently, because the killings only started when the geologists entered the mine.”

  “Robyn never mentioned blasting a second entrance, or even knowing one exists,” Fowler said.

  “There would be no need for her to open another way into the mine,” Decker replied. “She only wants to run tours through the closest tunnels to the surface. She won’t be going deep, for liability reasons, as much as anything else. We can check with her when we return, but I don’t expect her to be any help in this matter.”

  “That tears it, then.” Barnes peered past the locked gate into the dark tunnel beyond. “We could wander around this desert for six months and not find another entrance.”

  “Which is why we aren’t going to conduct our search on foot.” Decker glanced skyward and watched the still circling hawk for a moment. “We need a higher vantage point. We need to be in the air.”

  “A helicopter?” Fowler’s demeanor brightened
at this idea.

  “Precisely. It will enable us to cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time. I don’t suppose you’d have one on hand?”

  “Sure. It’s tucked away in my desk back at the field office.” The sarcasm in Fowler’s voice was hard to miss. “I was kind of hoping your organization might arrange one. They appear to have their fingers in every pie.”

  “I’m sure I could arrange it,” Decker agreed. “But we don’t have time to throw it up the chain of command and see what shakes loose. Besides, I’d rather keep my organization’s involvement in this under the radar.”

  “What about LVMPD?” Barnes asked. “They have helicopters.”

  “And you think they’ll just lend one to us? After all, they contacted us for help with this and we sent everyone home, including their SWAT team.” Fowler didn’t look convinced. “Against normal operating protocol, I might add. The FBI doesn’t take over, we assist.”

  “They’ll lend us one if we give them a good enough excuse.”

  “Like?”

  “We’ll tell them we have a missing person, possibly abducted. We can say they’ll get credit for the recovery. They’re always looking for good press.”

  “And if they prevaricate, we’ll remind them of the bad press if they don’t work with us and provide a helicopter.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Barnes said.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Fowler asked. “Let’s get back to town and make it happen.”

  “And get some breakfast,” Barnes added.

  “Naturally. Robyn makes a mean pancake.” Fowler looked at Decker. “You ready to go flying?”

  “The quicker the better,” Decker replied. He hoped their plan worked, because if they failed, more innocent people would end up dead once the sun went down.

  Chapter Fifty

  Two hours after returning to town, Decker stood on the veranda of the Last Chance Hotel and Saloon and watched an Airbus H145 helicopter painted in the black and white livery of the Las Vegas Police Department fly into view over the scraggy peaks of the mountainous terrain.

  As it circled and came in for a landing, the two FBI agents exited the hotel, along with Robyn. Further away, standing in the doorway of his shack, Decker could see Carlton shielding his eyes against the sun to watch the large helicopter touch down.

  “Told you our cover story would work,” Barnes said with a grin.

  “Never doubted you,” Decker replied as the aircraft came to rest on a patch of barren land at the far end of town. He stepped between the two agents, descended the veranda steps, and started toward the waiting copter. “Let’s get this taken care of.”

  “You don’t need to tell me twice,” Fowler said, falling in behind.

  Leaving Robyn to watch, the three men made their way toward the helicopter. As they neared, Decker ducked instinctively to avoid the spinning rotor blades, and approached the aircraft side door, which now stood open. A man in an orange jumpsuit and crash helmet appeared in the door to greet them.

  “You must be the FBI team,” the man said, raising his voice over the helicopter’s twin engines.

  Decker nodded.

  “Great. Climb aboard.” He stepped aside and waited until all three were in the cabin before sliding the door closed. The noise level dropped by half.

  “Welcome aboard,” a fresh voice said.

  Decker turned to see a pilot sitting up front in an a glass cockpit that surrounded him like a bubble. “Glad to be here.”

  “I’m Officer Michael Glendale. You can call me Mike.” The pilot replied. “My colleague is Officer Robbie Parsons.”

  “Hey.” The man who’d met them at the helicopter’s door raised a hand.

  “Dispatch says you’re looking for a missing person with a possible abduction element,” Glendale said. “You know which way they might be heading?”

  “Not for sure. The Ghost Canyon Mine is close by. We think they might take shelter in an old entrance or ventilation tunnel,” Decker replied, sticking to the story details he and the two FBI agents had concocted while they were waiting for the helicopter. “We’ve already secured the main entry into the mine, but we need to search for other ways in.”

  “We’ll give it a good try,” Glendale replied. “But I have to warn you, these old mine shafts and entrances can be pretty well hidden. A lot of them date back over a hundred years and are in some mighty rugged terrain.”

  “Understood,” Decker replied. “Let’s do our best, anyway.”

  “Okey-doke. First things first, we need to get you guys strapped in.” Officer Parsons motioned toward a row of seats along the side wall of the helicopter. Upon each one sat a bright green crash helmet and headset with built-in speakers and a microphone for easy communication over the engine noise once the copter was in the air. Decker was about to move toward the seats, when Parsons spoke again. “Since you guys have a better idea what we’re looking for than us, one of you should sit up front in the cockpit. I’ll take a seat back here with the others.”

  “That sounds like a job for you,” Barnes said to Decker.

  “Makes sense,” Decker said. He squeezed past Parsons and slipped into the cockpit seat next to the pilot. There was a helmet here too, sitting on the floor next to him.

  “Put that on,” Glendale instructed.

  Decker nodded. He picked up the helmet and put it on, along with the accompanying headset, then clipped himself in using the harness style seatbelt. The two FBI agents and Officer Parsons followed suit in the helicopter’s rear cabin. Moments later the engine noise rose in pitch, the aircraft lifted from the ground, and they were airborne.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  They flew low over the uneven landscape. The pilot expertly adjusted to the rise and fall of the rocky landscape beneath them. The glass bubble surrounding the helicopter’s cockpit provided an excellent field-of-view, allowing Decker to see far and wide. This was clearly why the Las Vegas Police Department had selected the Airbus H145, which was designed specifically for operations such as the one they were now conducting. It was an amazing machine, barely a year old according to its pilot, who peppered them with abstract facts as he flew. Unlike the other helicopters operated by the LVMPD, which were used as eyes in the sky during police pursuits and for surveillance, this one was kitted out for search and rescue and medical transport flights. It had a large rear cabin area, able to support up to nine passengers, not including a two-man crew, and boasted clamshell doors at the back for easy loading and unloading. A rescue hoist was fitted near the side sliding door, although they wouldn’t need that capability on this excursion.

  “Let me know if you want to circle back and look at anything,” Glendale said after fifteen minutes had passed.

  “Will do,” Decker replied, never taking his eyes off the barren desert slipping away beneath them.

  After a while, when they had traveled to the edge of their useful search area, the helicopter banked and turned back upon itself. They were using a creeping line search pattern, flying back and forth across the landscape, and moving outward with each successive pass. They had started above the known entrance to the Ghost Canyon Mine and flew due east following the ridgeline of the mountain and proceeded from there. It was tough going. The arid desert terrain, while vast and open, was full of peaks and valleys that cast deep shadows and could easily hide an entrance. Not only that, any remaining ventilation shafts or adits would be over a century old and overgrown with vegetation such as creosote bushes and sagebrush, which were abundant in the area.

  After an hour, Decker started to lose hope.

  The Mohave looked even bigger from above than it did from the ground. It was like looking for one grain of sand on the beach. Twice he thought they had something, and instructed the helicopter to backtrack, only to discover that it was nothing more than a tantalizingly shaped outcrop with dark shadows beneath.

  Then, just as he was about to suggest they return to their original starting point and take a second p
ass over the search area, he spotted a glint of light from the base of a wide canyon ahead of them.

  “There.” Decker tapped the pilot on the shoulder and pointed. “Can we get lower?”

  “These canyons are treacherous, but I’ll see what I can do,” Glendale said. He pushed on the stick and tilted the helicopter’s nose down into the canyon.

  A dirt trail snaked across the canyon floor, weaving away until it was lost behind a rise of land. Further away, toward the horizon, Decker could see a thin line of asphalt standing out against the ochre red background of the desert. This was the road leading to Haley. In the other direction would be Boulder city and Las Vegas. Then, as they approached the area where Decker had noticed the sun glinting, he saw something that he wasn’t expecting.

  A red pickup truck.

  It was parked at the edge of the trail, near an outcrop of rocks that created a natural cleft in the landscape. Sagebrush and creosote bushes choked the crevice. But it was what lay between the truck and the rocks that caused Decker to draw a sharp breath. Sprawled on the ground in a dark patch that could only be blood, arms spread wide, lay a corpse.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The helicopter had barely touched down before Decker was unclipping his seatbelt and making for the door. He jumped out, followed by the two FBI agents, and raced the short distance to the truck, and the body beyond.

  It was a man, laying on his back with glassy dead eyes staring up into the bright blue desert sky. His torso was flayed open, exposed innards already crawling with flies.

  Decker recognized him at once.

  So did Special Agent Barnes. “This is one of the two guys we caught up at the mine entrance yesterday.”