God Stones: Books 1 - 3

by Otto Schafer

  Finally, the heartache became too much, and I knew I needed to see her – needed to see you. So, I came back to the little place near the shore, full of hope. I had given her time. Time to contemplate what we had. Time to forgive me. I knew in my heart we were destined to be together.

  I walked onto the porch and knocked on the door. A moment later, a woman I didn’t recognize answered the door. And right there on that little porch, a stranger broke my heart into pieces.

  I had been gone five years. And in that time your mother had given birth to you, become sick, and died – all within three years. I was two years too late.

  “What of my son?” I asked the woman. The woman was of no relation to your mother and had simply purchased the home after her death. My heart was already cracked, but her next words shattered me completely. After becoming terminally ill, and with no partner or other family members to help, your mother had no choice and put you up for adoption. And so, racked with guilt and broken, I began searching for you that day and never stopped.

  I didn’t know your name. I didn’t know what adoption agency she used, or if she used one at all. I knew nothing. But I knew I had to find you, and I knew I had to do it before you reached adulthood. Finding you was my new purpose, but finding you would prove difficult. The trail was cleverly hidden, and it took years to learn where you were. I knew when the clues led me to Petersburg two years ago there was more going on than met the eye. I quickly discovered Garrett Turek had been born and the prophecy I had been waiting on since Turek’s death had finally begun. Soon I figured out my brother was in Petersburg too, posing as a human do-gooder, all the while plotting and planning his big comeback.

  Petersburg. The location of one of the seven nephilbock tombs. One of seven places I personally placed an elder dragon. This was to be the catalyst to the end of the world as we know it. The fact that the trail of my missing son led me right back to this place, at the precise time I needed to be here, was too much to be coincidence. I knew then, Turek was somehow responsible for this, but when I finally learned who you were, and how you are tied to the prophecy, whatever remaining doubt I had vanished.

  16

  God Stone Storm

  Wednesday, April 20 – God Stones Day 14

  Rural Chiapas State, Mexico

  Rain dropped from the sky in an impossible torrent, unlike anything Breanne had ever seen or felt. This didn’t seem possible. Without their ability to use mind speak, she and Gabi would not have been able to hear each other over the sound of crushing rain and thunder.

  The rain was so heavy it was like breathing with a shower running full on in your face. Breanne gasped for breath as the path before them changed from mud to standing water. Luckily, the rutted road ahead rolled in steep ups and downs through the mountainous terrain, offering few flat places where the water could pool.

  After a long, slippery descent, they reached a low spot where the water was rushing across the road, thick and brown. Gabi! Take my hand.

  Gabi clasped hold of Breanne’s hand, and they waded out, water pushing hard past their knees. Thankfully, it wasn’t far, but the force! It felt like the raging water might sweep her feet out from under her. What if it washed them over? Where would they end up? She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about being carried down the mountain to her death. The powerful surge made her think of Petersburg and her time in the culvert with Garrett and the others. She thought about how Janis had manipulated the current. She wondered at that, wishing Janis were with them now. Her heart panged at the thought of what the dragon had done to her.

  I’m sorry about your friend, Gabi said.

  Breanne felt something then. A sudden anger filling her. So much anger. She was downright pissed off was what she was. But why? She hadn’t been mad. She had been sad only a split second ago. The water poured over her in buckets, and she trudged forward out of the fast-moving stream. She struggled to breathe, struggled to see the road, struggled to see her hand in front of her own face, and mostly she struggled not to be so pissed off! The anger dissipated, but it didn’t go away, not fully. Gabi, you doing okay?

  I’m okay, she said evenly.

  There it was again, spiking up – a yawning of hate, of profound rage. She wasn’t doing this. No. This wasn’t her emotion. It was Gabi’s. That was it. She was feeling Gabi’s emotion.

  Gabi, are you sharing your anger with me on purpose? Breanne asked.

  What? The girl stopped and pulled her small hand away from Breanne’s.

  What’s wrong? Are you mad at me? Breanne asked, finding the girl’s face behind the waterfall filling the space between them.

  No! I’m not mad at you! I just… your friend… the dragon. I just don’t like dragons, that’s all. I… I didn’t know you could do that? Gabi asked.

  Breanne reached for her hand again. Do what?

  Feel my emotions! she said.

  Well, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know either, Breanne said apologetically. Maybe it’s because we were holding hands? You don’t have to hold my hand if you don’t want to, Gabi, but this water… I… I just don’t want to lose you.

  Gabi reached over and took her hand. Sorry, Bre, I just wasn’t ready for that.

  Breanne hadn’t been ready either. It’s okay, let’s close our minds for a little while, but just knock if you need me, and I will do the same, okay?

  Okay, Gabi agreed.

  They pressed on, moving way too slow in this strange monsoon. She prayed they would make it to town before nightfall. If this storm didn’t pass by then, there would be nothing to see by once the sun set.

  As they went, Breanne found her thoughts drifting to Gabi and the rage she had felt coming from the girl. So much hate worried her. So much anger from a girl so tiny, so innocent. But then how would she feel if she were Gabi? If it were her parents killed by the dragon? Her father or brothers – or all of them. God, she didn’t want to think about it. But she knew what hate could do. She had hated herself for years after her mother died. But what she’d felt from Gabi was pure, unbridled rage.

  They passed a large group of people. Two, or possibly three, families. This time she had no warning vision. No premonitions. No feeling of foreboding or suspicious feelings. These were just people trying desperately to get to shelter. Several were only children. A man carried a small one in his arms. Jesus, how was he doing it? Normally she and Gabi would stop and speak. They would make sure whomever they encountered knew where the cenote was, tell them it was safe there, warn them of the dangers ahead, and ask them what they had seen. But now they were two swimmers passing through a breaking tide where pausing to chat was impossible. So instinctively, both parties passed each other on the narrow road in silence, muzzled by the unprecedented rain.

  The rain had to let up soon, didn’t it? Though she wasn’t sure how long monsoon storms lasted. All she knew for sure was that every part of her was wet, and places all over her body were chafing. She felt it in her feet too, blisters attacking with each step. And just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, the sky lit up with unnatural orange lighting. Each bolt started at a single point, then traced across the sky in an arc until it looped back to the starting point, forming a perfect circle. What followed was an incredible boom that shook the ground as the circle grew so bright it was blinding. Then, dozens of orange bolts spiraled down from the circle, striking the jungle all around them. That’s when she knew. This wasn’t a normal monsoon – this was a God Stone monsoon. As one circle dissipated, another crack broke the sky and another circle formed, each one a different size than the last. Some released as few as two or three of the strange electric corkscrew lightning bolts, but other larger circles sent down too many to count.

  Breanne squeezed Gabi’s hand tight in her own. Jesus, they were going to die on this road. She shouldn’t have taken Gabi from the safety of the cenote. She should have just stayed there like her father asked. They still had to get back. They weren’t even halfway through this tr
ip! What had she been thinking?

  They walked down the watery road for what had to have been several hours more, all the while wondering if they would be struck by the strange lightning, washed off the road, or attacked by something they wouldn’t see or hear coming through the downpour. If there was a bright side, it was that they saw no more people or monsters. Maybe even monsters took shelter in a God Stone storm. God, she hoped so.

  Breanne hadn’t even noticed they’d made it to town until she saw the shadowy silhouettes of buildings suddenly surrounding them. They’d done it! She collapsed onto her knees in the standing water, exhaustion overtaking her. They had been walking with hands clasped in silence for hours, only occasionally checking in. She pressed her will against the door of Gabi’s mind and felt it swing open. Gabi! We made it! She wanted to cry.

  I thought we might die! Gabi said with relief.

  Breanne wanted out of her wet clothes. She wanted warmth, wanted sleep, wanted this to stop. She squinted into the rain, knowing she’d have none of it if she didn’t move, and so she pushed herself up from the mud.

  The village didn’t really have streets except the main dirt road leading through it. Violeta’s house should be on their left, up a small side trail. Wondering if they’d missed the trail, they moved to the eastern edge of the road and searched a little farther up the road before finding a narrow stream pouring into the street. This has to be it, Gabi!

  They followed the worn path up the embankment, struggling on its slippery steepness but eventually finding their way to a fence row leading to the small thatch hut Violeta had described.

  They pushed the door open, practically falling inside. The first thing Breanne noticed was that the hut was dry. She didn’t know how the thatch kept out this kind of rain and she didn’t care to. She only knew buckets of water weren’t being poured continuously over her face anymore, and for that she was grateful.

  Gabi dried her hands on a colorful flower-stitched linen hand towel. She found some candles and matches sitting just inside the door and lit one. The tiny flame pushed back the shadows enough to see the narrow hut was deceptively large, stretching back farther than Breanne had first imagined.

  The space was one long room, with six wood-framed cots near the back. To the right of the door was a set of simple wood-planked shelves. Each bowed shelf was loaded with jars, plastic containers, and small burlap sacks. From the shelf posts hung meticulously tied bunches of dried plants and herbs. To the left of the door was a large stack of firewood and a cookstove that seemed, to Breanne, fairly advanced for a poor rural village. The stove was a boxy-looking structure – made of mud, gravel, and cement – with an open front to feed in the wood. It even had a flat top for cooking and a chimney for the smoke to escape. She knew from her time with her dad on dig sites that most stoves in rural Mexico didn’t have a chimney and that smoke inhalation was a big problem. Typically, while cooking indoors, people propped the doors and windows open. But this hut had a chimney, and that told Breanne that the people of the village placed much value in their midwife and they wanted her to have the best means for her to care for them. She wasn’t sure of that, of course, but it felt right, and it gave her even more comfort knowing Sarah was being cared for by Violeta.

  With the candles lit, they set to building a fire. Then they pulled some blankets from the cots, stripped off their wet clothes, and wrapped themselves in the dry throws. Outside, the thunder boomed. They hung their wet clothes near the fire to dry and climbed onto two of the cots positioned close together.

  They were warm, dry, and exhausted. They were hungry too, but neither had the energy to explore further. Pulled into the warmth of the dry cot, sleep took Breanne as soon as her eyes closed.

  Breanne dreamt of a boy with a mop top of dirty-blond hair. She wanted to see him. To see his face, but he wouldn’t turn around. She missed Garrett more than she should, more than she thought possible. She missed him. Breanne longed for him to hug her like he did that night behind the library. Oh, please turn around.

  But the boy didn’t turn. Wait. She realized it now – something wasn’t right. Where was she? Fog surrounded her while wind blew hard against her face. Up ahead, the boy moved through the fog too, only visible from the shoulders up, his curly hair tossed by the wind. She frowned. Garrett didn’t have curly hair.

  Suddenly she burst from the fog, only to realize it wasn’t fog at all – she was in the clouds. She was somehow flying. The boy with the curly hair had broken from the clouds too, and now she could see him clearly. He was riding atop a dragon. The boy turned and looked over his shoulder, finding her. Breanne saw him then… truly saw him, saw him to his core. Dark and rotten as it was, she saw. Breanne’s body went rigid, her hollow bones vibrating, as if struck by a hammer.

  Jack’s blue eyes were hard as steel and cold as arctic ice. A smile slithered onto his face, so devious her breath caught in her throat and she dared not breathe. Jack’s serpent lips moved to form words as one cold eye blinked slowly. But the words she couldn’t hear and didn’t need to hear to know their sour intent. The boy’s face bent into a scowl, and as he turned away, the dragon dove.

  In her dream, she plunged after them as if on a roller coaster. Her stomach, unable to keep up, rose into her throat and stuck there, fixed like a horse pill that wouldn’t go down. She could see the ground now, far below, racing up to meet her wind-whipped eyes as she dove! Dove! Dove! Except it wasn’t the ground she was speeding toward.

  It was a mud-colored river.

  17

  Sitting Ducks

  Wednesday, April 20 – God Stones Day 14

  The Mississippi River, near Alton, Illinois

  Garrett lurched forward, his heart racing, unsure of where he was or what had startled him from sleep. He looked around the cab, trying to orientate himself to this foreign place, but it was still night and he could barely see. Was he dreaming or had he heard shouting? Coach’s notebook lay on his lap, still open. He remembered squinting to try and see, begging what sliver of light was left in the sky to stay for just a moment more, but it hadn’t, leaving him stuck, unable to see the next words until the sun rose once more. Good god, all the answers were right there in his hands and he couldn’t see them. The last part he remembered was Coach saying his son was connected to the prophecy of Turek. What did that mean? Did that mean Garrett might know Coach’s son? Maybe, but maybe not. He suspected more than half the town were Keepers.

  Garrett heard shouting, and this time he knew he wasn’t dreaming it.

  “Kong! I’m sorry! Dammit to hell, I didn’t mean to go and pass out!”

  Lenny popped up from the passenger’s seat next to Garrett, his fists doubled up. “What’s happening?!”

  Garrett hadn’t even realized his friend had been curled up in the seat next to him. “That sounds like Louie shouting,” Garrett said, lifting the latch and shouldering open the door.

  “Probably still drunk,” Lenny said, stretching as he climbed out his side and jumped to the ground.

  Outside, the night air was cool, and a full moon shone brightly between slow-crawling clouds. Garrett was warm enough in his knit sweater as he slung his sheathed sword over his head and onto his back.

  “I’m here, Kong. Tell me what to do!” Louie’s shouts came from the back of the ferry deck.

  David and Pete were climbing out of the back of the Little Debbie truck, exchanging curious looks. In the moonlight, Garrett could see Ed and Paul were still up front, but Paul was walking toward him.

  “What’s wrong with Louie?” Paul asked.

  “I think he’s talking to that fish, or at least he thinks he is,” Pete said.

  “Oh, I got to see this,” David said, starting toward the rear of the ferry, the others on his heels.

  David and the others seemed to think Louie was off his rocker, but Garrett wasn’t so sure. Louie had known Garrett’s name, and that they were coming. How was that possible? Unless… unless Louie really was talking to someone. A f
ew weeks back, none of them would have believed the intoxicated old man, but today it didn’t really seem all that crazy.

  As they approached, Louie was leaning over the rear gate, shouting, “I’m sorry, Kong! I fell asleep! What?! I wasn’t that drunk! How soon?! Oh, shit!” Louie spun around, his eyes wild in the moonlight. The potbellied man ran a hand through his grey beard. Looking past them, his eyes darting back and forth, his mind somewhere else. Abruptly he shouted, “Out of the way, you sons-a-bitches!” and pushed past them, making for the front of the boat.

  “What the hell?” Garrett asked.

  David continued forward to the railing.

  “What do you see?” Lenny asked.

  “Nothing,” David said disappointedly. “Nothing but black water.”

  “I told you the old geezer’s a slush!” Lenny said.

  Garrett beckoned the others. “Come on!”

  They followed Louie back to the front of the ferry. By now the old man stood bent forward, hands on knees, gasping for breath. “You… You got…”

  Ed hovered in the corner of the ferry platform where two railings met. He was clasping the railing with his entire body pressed up against the side rail. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Ed asked, dropping to the ground, his concentration broken.

  Ed looked like shit. Garrett figured he must not have slept at all, seeing as he was the only one who could keep the ferry platform on course.

  “Stop! Stop! Right now, dammit!” Louie shouted, still bent at the waist. He waved one arm, the other hand still on a knee.