Lakan. He’d found her alone, as he often had tried to do before. She’d been so careful. But even though he was older, and she was a young woman, he had an undeniable strength she wasn’t sure she could overcome. If he did try to take her and she was unable to save herself, she’d have to kill him. The shame would be too great otherwise. Violence would ruin them both. Foolish old man. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon and realized the fruits in her sling were things she could lob at him while still running, hopefully slowing him down. It might be enough.
She heard his movements change to a run, signaling her to do the same. The vines ripped at her legs, the limbs from the bushes and low trees tore at her face, her clothing. She cried out as her untied hair tangled in the limbs. She had to slow as she tried to pull her tresses out of the shrub. She could hear him getting closer. Not daring to spend another second in releasing her hair, she yanked, hard, and continued to run. Her scalp tingled. Her side hurt from the effort to run faster and her legs were achy and painful.
“Stop running, Maya. Give up, you’re mine.” She could hear his breath becoming more labored.
A limb slapped her in the face, hitting her eyes, momentarily causing her to lose her sight. She stumbled. And still he came. She saw the edge of the forbidden cave ahead. She knew the stories told about those who entered the cave and never returned, but it was her only choice. There was nowhere else to run for the river canyon was ahead, and Lakan was behind her.
As she approached the mouth of the ancient cave, she heard the shaman’s steps falter. In her near exhaustion, promise sprung like a well of cool water as she hoped he was running out of energy as well. Or maybe the cave was giving him pause. She’d have to test the ancient stories. If he continued, there would be no alternative, for she would not submit to him.
She shivered as a memory of the old men telling their stories about the cave came to mind. “If you disobey the warning, you’ll go and meet your destiny, for you’ll never return.”
“I’ve trapped you, my little Maya. Now you must give yourself to me.”
Maya’s soul called out. My warriors, where are you? Please save me. Take me from here.
Lakan’s voice was raspy and his breathing hard as he stopped merely four body lengths from her. Her own chest was heaving with the effort to draw breath. Her fear was making breathing even more difficult. She gazed into the darkness behind her and turned back to his lecherous face in front of her. The vile man was triumphant and stood taller as though he had already claimed his victory, but she would not give in to him. She’d not go to him or allow him to take her. She would die first.
She took a step backward. “Come then and claim your prize. If you dare.”
“Do you think I won’t? I am the shaman; this cave does not frighten me.” But she could see his hesitation and pushed her advantage.
She backed in a little farther to where the darkness was a mere few steps behind her. She stopped. Taunted him. “I can smell your fear.”
He laughed, but it was humorless and laced with an apprehension that she could almost taste. It equaled her own. She took another step back. Now the shadowy fingers of the dark depths nearly touched her. He took a step forward, and she took a step back. She waited him out to see what he’d do, advance on her or turn way. He advanced, then went to his haunches.
“The stories are true Maya. The darkness has almost overcome you, and once it does, you’ll not return. You won’t see your parents, or your younger brother. Your family, your friends, all gone. Your life will be over. Come out and we’ll strike a bargain.”
Maya moved her foot against a rock large enough to use as a weapon, small enough to wield with accuracy. She stooped to grab it and stood again so as not to lose her advantage. Placing it in her sling, she remembered the fruit. Maya wondered if she could leave the cave and hit him hard giving her a chance to run past him back in the direction of the camp. No, it would never work. He was an older man but a wily one.
She had to decide: either put the stories to the test or walk out of the cave. The blood that ran from her torn skin and dripped down her arms and legs was now attracting insects. She decided if he rushed her, she would run further into the cave. No matter what happened, she’d stand here for as long as he stayed where he was. She’d only move when he did.
Then, right before her eyes, Lakan took several steps back and lay in the brush. She couldn’t see him for the vegetation but when next there was a movement she gasped. Instead of the shaman, a coyote was tracking her. Lakan was nowhere to be seen. Did the coyote kill him? Or did he do the unthinkable? Had he shifted?
Her shock at what she’d just witnessed stole her thoughts, freezing her in place until the animal started his measured stalking toward her. As he deliberately advanced, his aura almost mocked her. Her mind jolted into play and her body responded to the screaming in her head to run. Terrified, she had no options left, nowhere to go, no escape open. Her choices were to allow him to take her, violate her, and then kill her, for he wouldn’t risk her telling of his deed, or go farther into the cave. In that split second, she knew there was no choice. Her fate would be fulfilled today.
Maya heard the screaming and when she realized it was her own, she had to force herself to stop. It was not helpful, and the effort used up her energy. She called out to her lovers. Come to me, find me, save me. She slowed as she discovered she was fully enclosed in darkness, but she could see the scene ahead of her. The mouth of the cave was light.
Where was he? Where did the trickster go? Maya frantically sought to locate the large coyote, but he was nowhere. Panic seized her breast in lightning streaks of pain. Clutching her throbbing bosom, she thought he had gone, but she could feel him in the cold darkness. Very cold. The predator was quiet, but she could hear his labored breathing. She reminded herself he could normally walk without a sound. She tried to track the rasping due to the rapid rise and fall of his chest, but all she could discern was her own.
A wild cry came from her right. The cloth around her neck jerked. Hot rancid breath accompanied the attack. Teeth grabbed the sling, twisting it hard. She yanked the pouch away. Drawing out several of the gathered fruit to throw at the snout she could barely make out, she aimed in the dark. Grunts and growls intermingled as woman and beast battled. Her hand fell to the stone.
Her aim was true, and the soft thud of the creature as he dropped down on all fours added another dimension. He had released her sling completely, but Lakan’s animal form was stronger than his human shape. Maya ran without seeing her path. The farther she went, the darker and danker and more frigid it became, even in the heat of the day. Once again, she couldn’t hear his steps behind her. She stopped and waited while she caught her breath. The cave seemed to have no end. The fear of the total darkness encompassed her once again, adding to the uncontrolled breathing and trembling that had overtaken her.
The light from entrance never changed regardless of how far she ran. Then suddenly, it too, disappeared. She was disoriented. A shriek resounded in the emptiness. It was a horrifying, disembodied sound. Then a snarl and a howl followed as the coyote approached her. As he drew closer, she could see his eyes. They glowed in the dark the eerily yellow green of a shape shifter, a skinwalker. She had seen it in the darkness of the morning in her dreams, and when she awoke.
Maya turn to run farther into the blackness of nowhere. Sharp ice crystals lined the walls of the cave, cutting her skin sharply when she fell against them. Finally, when she knew she was exhausted and could go no farther she spied a glow ahead that grew larger. As she advanced, she heard noises like many trumpeter swans. Gathering the last of her strength, she went into the brightness. She called to her warriors as she entered the place of light and noise.
Suddenly, she was standing in blinding light, disorienting her as much as the darkness had and there was a whisper in her ear, in her head, familiar and comforting. Even though she couldn’t understand the words, she understood he was calling for
her protection. His words were joined by two more, strong and encouraging. She soon could hear nothing but their voices as she crossed into the brightness.
As though in a lightning storm, fully surrounded by crackling blue air, the words of her warriors stopped. Total silence reigned. It was next replaced by a cacophony of unfamiliar sounds. The world was bursting with it. She was overwhelmed by noise, objects tall as mountains, smoke, and balls of light were everywhere. Maya turned to retreat, running into a rocky wall—solid, hard, and unyielding. Sprawled before her was an evil place like nothing she’d ever seen or dreamed.
No coyote. No shaman. No Lakan. No skinwalker. But she was here and as she looked up again, she saw strangely dressed men who were yelling as they ran towards her. As they grabbed her harshly, she became part of the chaos surrounding her. She wondered if she were dreaming again. But these weren’t her dream walker warriors.
This was her destiny. She knew today she’d find it or surely die trying.
Chapter 2
Aldric Sterling Remington, MD, PsyD, and a few other letters of distinction, came from just the type of family you would think to name their son so stoically. His partner, Oliver Paxton Moore, PhD who hailed from an equally prestigious, albeit stiff, family background had recently teamed up with Zander Rice, PhD who, thankfully, had grown up in an average family with average problems. Paxton and Sterling were jealous of Zander’s average problems.
Sterling and Paxton had left full time city life some years ago, forming a one-parent corporation, Natural Health Inc., which held two companies. Sterling had Medavioral, Inc., a medical/behavioral science and research facility, working with his own research and that of the underground Ambrose Society of which he was a member. His work with others like himself and Zander, who had shown increasing levels of different psychic abilities, would hopefully find earth a better cultural norm than had evolved over the last generations.
His prototype implants would revolutionize mankind’s treatment of mankind, but the Immigration Department and the government at large was slow to allow his project more latitude. Until that time, Ambrose and it’s highly gifted and intellectual members would continue to work toward the goal of peace in more than words.
For now, the immigration intake center continued to decide who should be allowed to stay the old-fashioned way, disallowing him to assimilate them using the implants. The implant would be quicker and more humane. At least they allowed him to help them decide who to keep because his insight had proven invaluable. Sometimes it was a crapshoot and he hoped he made the best decisions based on understanding human nature, seeing the facts as presented, and secretly using his gifts.
The second business was The Long Grass Wildlife Sanctuary and Horticultural Preserve. It was Paxton’s pride and joy. Pax was one of the world’s leading experts on herbal medications and was unsurpassed as a botanist. The final business they were incorporating was Zander’s endeavor, of saving the extinction of earth’s animals through hands on nurturing and research. The guys and their workers called the partially environmentally controlled acreage, the “Compound”. It looked like one too with the high tech, environmentally controlled dome over the house and part of the grounds.
Dr. Rice was just moving in, but they had rearranged the space to ensure all three men had several work areas both in and out of the dome. Sterling, however, spent most days in his office trying to keep up with the demand for his services. Demand for behavioral analysts were at an all-time high. With the influx of immigrants from war torn countries seeking better lives, the country was trying to be judicious about those coming in. While war was banned unilaterally nearly a decade ago, the effects of war, famine, drought, anger, and humanity’s self-destruction didn’t end with the final physical war. Peace was still a concept to be defined.
Human connection was less common. Legally, men enjoyed freedom of movement and speech, but not all did since the ending of the short but deadly Annihilation War. Because while the official war was over, it was still happening around the globe between greedy men and greedier men in small pockets of subversives. It made people leery of another’s motives.
All three men belonged to the ancient veiled group called The Ambrose Society, whose centuries old goal was to preserve mankind in peace and harmony. The Masons had chosen to allow their existence to be known, Ambrose, had not. Mensa had never been secret, but Ambrose was like Mensa on steroids. Not only were its members the cream of the crop on the intellect scale, they were world changing geniuses.
To the outsider, the technology Ambrose had invented and prevented in recent decades would have seemed impossible. They had done great deeds but were always working on the next solution. Mankind was hard to train. Ambrose was ultra-choosey. After you had done good in the world, you might receive an invitation to talk. Later, one to join. Once you were in, you were never out of the Society.
Each of the three men had their own interpretation of the acceptance process but since the government had decided that they would accept most immigrants if they could be properly assimilated, they always tried to work within the current regime. Sterling didn’t mind assisting people to adjust but he preferred the word integrated, the government didn’t.
“So, are you brainwashing today?” asked Paxton.
“You know I hate that reference.”
“I know. I do agree that the indoctrination center, in some instances, helps to assimilate immigrants into society. It sometimes seems like they annihilate the immigrant’s own primary culture and beliefs, though. That can’t be good.”
“No, you’re right. Sometimes I wonder about the process. Well, I wonder often. But so long as I have input, I know they can’t go too far off the mark.”
“I’m glad Ambrose was able to help turn the tide of the past assimilation techniques better known as annihilation of whole cultures and ways of life. What human disasters we have historically been.”
Sterling nodded and changed the subject. “What do you think your chances are of getting your exchange deal through? Getting the government to fund their own greenhouse for the immigrants while you help oversee the work?”
“Pretty good, actually. I think medicinal herbs are what many of the immigrants have used and it’s a damn sight healthier. But we need more suppliers to keep up with demand and I’m not willing to give up my research efforts to man a bigger operation.” Pax looked around with a grimace. “God, I can’t believe we spent most of our lives in this over-crowded, loud and stinky city living on unfiltered air. Since we’ve opened our lungs to clean air on the compound, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to survive the pollution again.”
Sterling hit the elevator call button. “And yet, here you stand. You didn’t have to come. You could have pitched your deal via video-com. I think your years in the military made you a glutton for punishment. You try to see if you can survive the next visit and the next. I understand the sentiment, though. The city does seem unhealthier and more dangerous now that we don’t live in the middle of it. Stay home next time, man. You’re the only one that doesn’t have to come in on a regular basis.”
Pax grinned. “Yeah, well, grumbling fits well with my badass reputation.”
“Oh, really? It’s not the ex-military persona but the herbalist that’s badass? Horticulture brings out the destructive quality, does it?”
His grin broadened. “No, it tames the wild beast in me, so I don’t need your services. And don’t forget I’m also a botanist.”
“Ah, yes, the botanist beast, then.”
Pax laughed heartily. “It’s the only title that satisfies my mother and that fact also keeps me out of your analyst’s chair. Speaking of which, how are your dreams? Still having them?”
“Every single night, and last night’s dream was violent. I don’t mind saying I woke up in a cold sweat. I had real fear that Maya would be hurt.”
“The woman in the dream.”
“Yes. I wonder if I’ll dream again tonight because it seemed like she
might have died last night.”
The elevator doors swished open, bringing their focus to the scene before them. A young woman in her early twenties was screaming, kicking, and twisting as though she were being taken to the death chamber or tripping on bad drugs. Instinctively Sterling stepped in to help calm her and Pax squeezed his large frame into the car, lessening the area she had to fight.
“Hold on honey. I promise we won’t hurt you.”
Sterling placed his hand on hers quickly, noticing the scratches and scrapes along with the handcuffs. Something was wrong with this scene that he couldn’t put his finger on. He turned his best intimidating voice on the two men trying to keep their hold on her while he held onto his temper. “What the hell did you do to this girl?”
“Nothing, Doc. We didn’t do a fucking thing. She just appeared in the parking garage on the lower level. We don’t understand her, can’t imagine how she got there, and she doesn’t seem to understand us. She threw some fruit at us from her bag. She has one mean temper and a damn good aim.”
Odd, but she seemed vaguely familiar. Sterling needed to look her full in the face but there was a way to do it and this wasn’t it. She was panicked and still twisting in wild abandon. He didn’t want to scare her or excite her more than she was. He had to work harder to retain his control and use logic to get them to allow him free access to the woman.
“Think about it. Where the hell would she go? Let me check her injuries. Does she have any weapons?”
Suddenly it hit him, Maya. This was Maya. He could feel the psychic link with her even stronger than when they had connected in his dreams. Lithe and toned, she was a goddess, albeit a dirty one. He touched her, she allowed it, but he knew she was holding on by a thread. He could feel her terror, but couldn’t read her better than that.
Did she recognize him as he did her? There was a visceral, primal ache he had never experienced before. He wondered if it was like the animals that Zander worked with. That instinct that drove them almost mad with need, making them dangerous. It was becoming clearer to him.
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