Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  She had to forward the text message about the bacteria to Beth. Then she would deal with this psycho bird. But its wings and claws were unyielding, swatting at her face and poking into her skin.

  As Maria flung herself back and forth, side to side on the top of the plateau, she tried to catch a break—long enough to simply hit the forward button. But the break never came. The bird relentlessly tormented her, pecking close to her eyes, screeching into her ear. She lifted both her hands into the air and tried to shove the bird off her shoulder.

  The bird opened its beak and clamped down on Maria’s fingers, the ones holding fast to her phone.

  “Ouch!” she hollered, the exclamation making no more noise than a muted, polite cough. She attempted to shake her hand free, accidentally loosening her grip on the phone and launching it into the air, text unsent.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears as blood rushed to her head and limbs—a primeval reaction to danger. A way to quicken thinking and increase strength.

  Only neither came.

  Her thoughts were muddled with confusion and indecision. Her arms and legs gangly and floundering, like those of a newborn fawn.

  The phone.

  The information about the bacteria.

  Rod needed her help.

  Dropping to the ground, Maria crawled in the direction the phone had flown. Small jagged rocks cut into her knees and the palms of her hands. She protected her face from the onslaught of additional scrapes and gashes from the bird by bending her neck down and pressing her arms against her cheeks. The winged creature flew in front of her, trying to get in the empty space between her and the ground.

  How far away was her phone? It hadn’t gone off the cliff, had it?

  The rising panic in her gut spread quickly to the rest of her body, causing her to shake.

  What if she couldn’t find it?

  What if she was too late?

  What if Rod had already died?

  The bird swooped in once again, making other worldly noises as it flew. Its leather pouch swung from its leg. Its beak smeared with the blood it had drawn from Maria’s flesh.

  Maria’s stuttered breathing quickly turned into hyperventilating. The bird squawked again, but Maria kept moving forward. Off to the left. Next to the right.

  The phone.

  Where was it?

  The spires and cliffs around her had faded into a gray, murky soup. She couldn’t see anything more than a few feet ahead of her. The phone could easily be at the bottom of the canyon and she would have no clue.

  But still she crawled.

  Rod’s life depended on it. And very possibly hers.

  A moment later, Maria spotted something to her left. The sight of her neon yellow waterproof and shatterproof cell case was like an oasis to a desert traveler.

  It rested on the ground, peacefully, unaware of the battle that was happening three feet away between woman and bird.

  Or was it?

  As Maria scrambled over the dirt until the phone was a mere half foot from her hand, the bird had disappeared from her view. But she was not alone. She could feel it. She could hear it. But she could not see it.

  A cloud of darkness quickly fell around her, masking once again the location of the phone. Confident of its general direction, Maria combed her hand along the ground, feeling for the familiar rectangular-shaped device. Again, she was attacked from above.

  However, the talons had been replaced by a fisted human hand that hit her in the side of the head, making everything swim inside it.

  Maria’s training told her to fight back. Her desire for Rod to get better told her to keep looking for the phone. Using both hands, she frantically felt the ground. Rocks. Pokey weeds. No cell phone.

  Another punch to the side of her face, and then something was grabbing at her back. Under her shirt. At her gun holster! She reached around, trying to stop it from happening, but she was too late. Her gun had been ripped free and thrown into the air. Moments later she heard it land on the canyon floor below.

  Maria swung her shoulder around and up, hoping to connect with her attacker but catching only air. Surprised, Maria strained to see into the blackness to identify who had taken her gun and was trying to beat her senseless.

  There was no one there. No shape took form. No figure materialized in the obscurity before her.

  Maria dropped down to the floor of the mountain top once more, determined to find the phone. She hardly had a chance to breathe before strong fingers gripped her ankle and pulled her back several feet. She tried to squirm free while kicking with her other foot.

  Her attacker’s grip didn’t loosen. Maria managed to flip onto her back, anxious to see who it was. But again her eyes failed her. While she could feel sharp fingernails digging into the skin by her ankles, she could see nothing but darkened shadows. She was dragged a few more feet, very aware of the empty place in the hollow of her back where her gun should have been.

  Seconds later her attacker was at her side, hands closing round Maria’s neck.

  Squeezing.

  Restricting the air and life from her body.

  Desperation clouded Maria’s judgement. Whispering words of failure and doom echoed in her thoughts. As her fear grew, so did the blackness around her.

  Relax.

  Had she really told herself that?

  How ridiculous was she?

  Someone, or something, was trying to choke her to death. This wasn’t the time to—

  Relax.

  If she had been serenely resting on her bed, Maria would have distrusted any advice her thoughts could conjure. But it was in moments of complete and utter distress when Maria actually dared trust herself.

  And so she did.

  She relaxed.

  Normally, that would have meant taking a deep breath, which she couldn’t do while being strangled, so instead she pushed her anxiety downward. Down. Down. Down. All of it now contained in her small toe. Next she released the strain on all of her muscles. She closed her eyes, and then slowly opened them.

  A man’s face came into focus.

  Dark hair.

  Brown eyes.

  Leathery skin.

  A determined frown.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Stories have been circulating concerning mysterious disappearances of luckless prospectors who entered the range on an organized search and … were never heard of after.

  “PHOENIX HERALD,” 1886

  Ranger Ferlund?

  He leaned over her, still dressed in his tan official uniform. The only difference was the leather satchel he wore around his thigh, similar to the one the bird had sported, was larger and more bulky.

  Why was he trying to kill her?

  With Maria’s newfound vision, she was able to slip her hands between Ranger Ferlund’s arms and then push upward and out, flinging his forearms wide and breaking his grip around her neck. She immediately rolled to the side and jumped onto her feet, her head woozy from the lack of oxygen but her body strong, no longer crippled by fear.

  The ranger stared at her, a look of surprise covered his face. “You can see me?”

  “Yes.” Maria’s arms were raised and her fists clenched, prepared to strike. “I can. If you want to fight, then I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

  “And you can hear me?” More surprised registered across the ranger’s brow.

  “Clearly, yes. You want to give up now?” Sweat mixed with blood that dripped from Maria’s forehead.

  “This is very unusual.” He shook his head, as if trying to solve a difficult math problem. “You are very unusual. I had thought you might have the Sight. But to hear me and see me. Very odd.”

  For a moment, Maria’s attention dropped to the ground where her phone rested inches from Ranger Ferlund’s boot. He followed her gaze. “Ah yes, cell phones. These are pesky things.” With that he raised his foot high into the air and stomped the neon yellow object several times with his ranger boot.

  Crunch.
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  So much for Maria’s unconditional, smash proof warranty. The case was shattered. The phone’s screen dark. Her chance to alert the doctors to Rod’s condition gone.

  What if she never made it off this mountain? Rod would slip deeper into insanity. The infection would ravage his body. Maybe even kill him. Who knew? Maybe he was already gone?

  A scream escaped from Maria’s lips. This time it carried far into the air. Ricocheting off cliff walls, echoing into the canyons. She was leaving the Superstitions. Her skeleton would not be found here, years after her disappearance, picked clean by animals and bugs.

  She was getting out of this forsaken place and saving Rod.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Ranger Ferlund opened the satchel around his leg and pulled a knife from inside. The blade was long. Maria was shocked it had fit in the bag. But there it was, and clearly Ranger Ferlund knew how to use it.

  He swung it around in his hand several times and spoke something in a language Maria didn’t understand. Something ancient.

  “Why are you doing this?” Maria asked as she shifted her feet in the correct position for defending a knife attack. “Is it for some stupid treasure?”

  “You know nothing of our kind,” the ranger said as he began to circle her. “We keep our mountain sacred. I have kept her secrets safe for hundreds of years.”

  “You mean the secret where the gold is hidden?” Maria hoped the questions would distract him, give her a chance to disarm him.

  He laughed. “Gold is not our treasure.”

  “Did you kill the woman? Dakota? And how about the other people the Keepers take pictures of and who then disappear?” Maria’s goal was to keep him talking. So far so good.

  “I don’t know their names. It does not matter to us.” The ranger moved forward several inches, knife held out in front. “What matters is they have the Sight. They see through our barriers. They are intruders. As are you.”

  “But why? I don’t get it.” Maria eyes scanned the ground for a stick or rock she could use to defend herself. Nothing was there. Just small sharp rocks, thorny weeds, and a pulverized cell phone.

  “Others thought they could drive us from our land. But they could not. The Pima, the Apaches, the Mexicans, the white settlers, they all deceive themselves. We have not gone. We are inside the mountain. She is our fortress. Our shield from those who seek to take her away. And I am the Guardian. I kill all who try to enter.” Ranger Ferlund perched to strike.

  Maria waited for him to make the first move.

  But he stalled. “Out of the many others, you are the first who can see me. Why?”

  A year ago Maria would have had several good answers—because she already lived among the dead, because her soul had been taken from her, because she was devoid of a desire for life.

  But today? Today she had no explanation. None of those things applied to her anymore. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  As if that was his cue, the wiry, muscled man leaped in the air straight toward her, knife in hand.

  Maria zoned in on his wrist that held the deadly weapon. She moved swiftly to grab it and twist, but the ranger was trained. He turned his arm in the opposite direction from the pressure and slipped from her grip. The knife swung through the air, but Maria dodged to the side, avoiding the piercing blade. At least she had better positioning than him now. Being to his side rather than out front gave her a superior angle. She kicked at his knee and it buckled. The ranger teetered, almost losing his balance.

  As he wobbled, Maria struck his arm holding the weapon and then side swept his legs once more.

  The man shrieked in a language as old as the mountains.

  He charged again. She jumped out of his way. Back and forth. The hunter and the hunted.

  As the man drew back the knife before plunging it into Maria, she saw an opportunity. Expertly, she jabbed at his throat. Quick. Hard. Effective.

  He gagged and stumbled.

  Ranger Ferlund was a skilled fighter, but it was clear he was not used to being seen by his prey. He usually had the upper hand of stealth.

  Until today.

  Maria kicked him in the groin, which made him double over. With the back of her hand, she karate chopped his arm. The knife he held clamored to the ground. Maria snatched it up. Panting, she said, “You’re not going to win this fight. Let’s call it.”

  “I always win.” Ranger Ferlund spun around to face her, indignant. “I am the Guardian.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m the chief of police in Kanab, and I say you don’t.”

  The ranger furiously dove at her, a battle cry on his lips. Maria lifted the knife in her defense and he ran onto the blade. It’s tip sank deep, deep into his chest. A sickening, dense sound. Smooth, fresh blood coated her hand. She released her hold on the ancient weapon and backed away. The smell of sweat, dirt, and death in her nostrils.

  Ranger Ferlund stared down at the front of his body. The knife’s handle protruded from his chest. A wave of confusion painted his face. He dropped to his knees, looked up at Maria and … screeched.

  The same noise the bird had made. A ghastly inhuman cry that reverberated in Maria’s eardrums.

  His skin began to molt off in large chunks, revealing black patches. His body, while never large, began to narrow and then shrivel. Feathers appeared. His mouth and nose melding and growing outward into a sharp, curved beak.

  Before Maria’s eyes, Ranger Ferlund transformed into a lifeless bird, lying on the ground in a pool of the man’s blood. No, its blood.

  Instantly, the crag in the mountain wall opened up again. The yellow pulsing light reappeared, awakening a yearning from deep inside Maria. Nearly overcome by the pulsing desire to enter the rocky opening, she ran.

  As hard as she could.

  In the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  In 1949, James A. Cravey of Phoenix hired a helicopter pilot to fly him into the heart of the mountain range and drop him off with provisions for eight days. He planned to hike out, but instead he vanished. Eight months later, a pair of horse riders from a dude ranch stumbled upon Cravey’s headless skeleton. His skull was later pulled out of a hackberry thicket, 30 feet from the body.

  “MYSTERIES & MIRACLES OF ARIZONA” BY JACK KUTZ. RHOMBUS PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1992, PAGE 34.

  The state park ranger station was closed. The doors were locked and its insides dark. Maria picked up a rock and tried hurling it through the window, but it bounced off the double paned, shatterproof glass like a bouncy ball. She needed a telephone. She had to call Beth. Melissa. Anyone.

  Rod hadn’t killed Dakota. Ranger Ferlund had. Who then, was trying to kill Rod? And why? Was Amy still the guilty party, or had she been acting on someone else’s behalf? She had never showed up at the Superstitions. A point in her favor.

  Thankfully, Maria’s car keys were still tucked inside the waistband hidden pocket of her hiking pants. She would drive to the closest phone she could find and call. It was past dinner time. Hopefully someone was at the hospital because that would mean that Rod was still alive.

  “Phoenix General. How may I help you?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone brought tears to Maria’s eyes. She was close. So close. She didn’t care that everyone in the gas station was staring at her. Bloodied. Caked with dirt. Probably quite a sight. And with no phone. She’d had to ask the cashier to use his personal cell phone since the one at the station didn’t allow for long distance. He’d reluctantly agreed and then pulled out a container of disinfectant wipes, ready and waiting until she was done.

  “I need to speak with the attending physician of Rod Thorton. It’s an emergency.” Maria barked into the phone.

  “I’m sorry, calls are not being accepted by that room.”‘

  “So he’s still in a room?” asked Maria. “Does that mean he’s still alive?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give that kind of informat—”

  Maria was losing her patience
. Not that she’d had any in the first place. “Listen, I have to talk to someone there. I don’t care who. Could you go take the elevator, the stairs, I don’t care, but get to his room and tell someone that Maria Branson is on the phone and she knows the kind of infection that Rod has. Did you get that? Did you get my—”

  “Wait one moment while I transfer you to the receptionist on that floor,” the voice droned.

  Happy music filled Maria’s ear. She thought she might explode.

  A minute later another voice spoke into Maria’s ear. “Phoenix General ICU. How may I help you?”

  The identical conversation repeated itself while everyone in the gas station continued to mill around, buying more pop and candy bars, waiting to see if the crazy homeless woman would try to steal the cashier’s phone or not.

  “Listen, I have, have, have, have to talk to someone there. I don’t care how. They just need to know Rod Thorton and—”

  “One moment please.”

  Seconds turned to minutes. One of the gas station bystanders had finished her entire thirty-two ounce Coke and was onto a refill.

  At last Maria heard another “Hello?”

  “Hello, I have to speak with someone in the room with Rod Thor—”

  “Maria?” the voice asked.

  Maria stopped, paused, then answered, “Yes?”

  “Maria, it’s Beth. I’ve been so worried about you. Derrick and Melissa said you’d gone by yourself to the—”

  Maria interrupted. “Is Rod alive?”

  “Yes he is. We’ve—”

  Maria didn’t wait to hear any more. “I know what kind of infection he’s got. I need you to get a pen and paper and write this word down. I don’t know how to say it but I remember that it’s spelled with a B—”

  “We know what Rod has.” Now it was Beth’s turn to interrupt. “Ms. Tuttle she figured it out. She called before lunch to let the doctors know how to treat it. Rod’s responding really well to the new antibiotic. It’s been like night and day. He really … well he really wants to see you. He’s been worried.”