Blackening song

by Thurlo, Aimée

  Ella stopped by the pay phone and dialed home. She gave her mother only a vague idea of what she intended to do, but Rose was perceptive. By the time Ella replaced the receiver, she was certain her mother had understood precisely.

  Ella hated stakeout duty with its long, boring hours of fighting to stay alert. Pulling it without a partner was twice as dangerous. She couldn't afford to let her guard down for even a moment.

  As darkness enveloped the desert, Ella maintained a sharp lookout. All was quiet, except for the usual sounds: night crickets, mosquitoes, rustling leaves. She was seated behind some brush on a hillside that offered a perfect, unobstructed view of Eddie's trailer. Infrared scope in hand, she forced herself to be patient. If Eddie was involved with skinwalkers, real or fake, it was possible he'd be leaving soon. Night was their time.

  The minutes dragged on, turning into hours. It was nearly midnight before there were signs of activity below. The single light in the trailer went dark. Five minutes later, Eddie emerged, glanced around, then walked to his truck.

  Ella ran to her vehicle and within seconds was following Eddie, making sure to give him plenty of room. The task

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  was harder than she'd expected. It wasn't like tailing someone during the daytime, or in the city, where streetlights and traffic helped you keep track of a suspect. Only brief glimpses of red brake lights cut through the darkness as they both traveled without headlights. Ella used the night-scope to guide herself, but even so, within five minutes she had lost Eddie completely. She stopped on a hill and scanned the vicinity but was unable to pick up his trail.

  Cursing her luck, Ella returned home. Once the sun came up, she'd return and follow his tracks until she learned exactly where he'd gone.

  Rose was asleep when Ella returned. Wilson had slipped a note under the front door. He was taking some supplies to the hogan around hmchtime the next day. Though he hadn't specified, she knew they'd be for Clifford.

  Ella stripped and crawled into bed. She planned to be back on the road at sunrise, and needed to sleep, but her thoughts kept her awake. She couldn't stop speculating about where Eddie had gone. Possibilities paraded before her mind's eye in an endless circle. Hours ticked by. Finally, an intense weariness overcame her, and Ella welcomed the yawning void.

  She felt as if she'd just fallen asleep when the alarm on her wristwatch went off. She opened her eyes slowly. It was five in the morning; the sun would be rising soon, with Mountain Daylight time in effect. She dressed quickly, left a note assuring her mother she'd be fine, and raided the kitchen for breakfast. She headed out carrying a thermos of tea and a dozen chocolate chip—oatmeal cookies. It was a good crunchy snack, and even nutritious.

  When she arrived at the hillside behind the construction

  site, the sun was still below the horizon. She'd checked the area where she'd lost Eddie, but the past night's brief but heavy thunderstorm had effectively obliterated his tracks. Frustration had made her muscles tighten until they ached. She selected her vantage point carefully. A short time later, Eddie came out of the trailer and sat on the porch steps, cereal bowl in hand.

  "You got away from me once, buddy boy, but not again/' Ella muttered, nibbling on a cookie. "Today I'm sticking to you like bubble gum on a hot sidewalk."

  Hours passed and the temperature soared; she crouched beneath the meager shade of a small juniper. She was getting no place in a hurry. Still, instinct told her not to give up.

  As the midday sun baked the desert in ninety-degree heat, Ella began to wonder if maybe her instincts were wrong. Then she saw Eddie get into his old car and drive off. She started up her pickup and followed from a distance, driving slowly enough to avoid raising much dust. The way her luck was running, he was probably going into town for groceries. She'd have the golden opportunity to see him buy canned pop, then return home.

  In the daylight it wasn't hard to tail him. He slowed down at the end of a dirt track, then turned and headed cross-country. Ella smiled. Her stakeout was about to pay off after all.

  The pace he set was fast for the route they were taking, and she watched the ground carefully, wincing every time she heard rocks and solid-packed dirt scrape against the bottom of her pickup.

  Moving in a mostly parallel course, she stayed out of his sight while keeping his car in range. Finally, Eddie approached a decrepit wood-framed, tar-papered shack. A hole in the north side signified that a death had occurred in

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  the shack. North was the direction associated with evil, so that was the way a body was removed from a house. Ella parked behind some large boulders and crept forward on foot, stopping about fifty feet from the shack, behind cover. The wind was blowing the voices of those inside the shack to her. She smiled, thinking that her traditional brother would have said that the Wind People were helping her. Wind always reported the truth.

  Ella hugged the ground and listened.

  "It worked." The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but strange, as if the person was excited or drugged. She tried to identify the speaker, but distance altered the tone.

  "So we know where he is?" another man asked. This voice was deeper, but also distorted.

  "Yes. The homing device helped, like I knew it would."

  The voices were impossible for her to identify at this distance. She fought the temptation to go in closer. Beyond this point, there was nothing that would provide her with cover. Her approach would be too easy to detect.

  Ella stayed very still, holding her breath and listening carefully. Something was going down, and she had to know more.

  "Despite all his precautions, Wilson Joe couldn't do a thing against this," another laughed. "He's a fool."

  Hearing Wilson's name made her skin prickle with fear. The sound of her own heartbeat grew so loud she had to strain to hear each word.

  "Do we make our move against Clifford Destea tonight?" the first man said.

  A shiver raced up Ella's spine. They had found her brother! She had to get out of here and warn him before these men reached him.

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  "No. His magic is dangerous. We have to take him by surprise. That means striking while it's daylight/'

  The wind rose in stronger gusts, rendering some words indistinct. Desperate to learn their plans, Ella inched forward on her stomach, staying low to the ground.

  "... and we'll rely on our guns. The last thing Destea will expect is an attack while the sun is still up."

  "He may ... be alone .. . and ..."

  "It's possible Wilson Joe .. . but so what? He's . . . What can he do?"

  "Then let's get. . . others. We'll meet at. . . near the ar-royo in two hours."

  Ella moved away. It sounded like they were about to adjourn. She hurried back to her car at a jog, using whatever cover the ground provided. Minutes later, she sped across the terrain. This was no time to play it safe. Her brother's life, and Wilson's, were at stake. A shortcut across ground suitable only for a tank saved her at least twenty minutes of driving. Thirty minutes later, Ella reached the highway. On the pavement, she could at least double her speed.

  It would probably be a waste of time trying to phone or locate Wilson for directions. He was either still at the hogan, or on the road. She had to find Clifford's hogan fast, relying only on her memory of the position of the sun, her instincts, and the few clues she'd managed to get during her previous visit. The odds weren't favorable, but she had one advantage. The sameness of the terrain would make it nearly impossible for a stranger to discern the differences between areas, but she knew how to search them out. She remembered the color of the soil, the turns, the arroyo where Wilson's truck had become trapped in a section of sticky, clayish mud. She headed there, knowing it would be her best starting point.

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  Ella glanced at her watch, painfully aware she was racing against time. She reached the canyon nineteen minutes later. By anyone's standards, she'd
made remarkably good time. Now she had to find her way to the hogan. Ella followed the route that seemed the most likely, looking for tracks and landmarks, trying hard to remember the number of turns Wilson had made, and the feel of the ground underneath the wheels. She remembered the strong scent of junipers right before they reached the hogan. There had been pinons where Clifford was, however. What she needed to find was a large stand of junipers just below where pinon pines could be found.

  Twice she went off course, winding up surrounded by pinons. The color of the rocks and the ground were not what they should have been. Searching her mind for places rich in the sticky reddish clay around the hogan, she headed north.

  Ella tried desperately not to give in to growing panic as her search continued without yielding results. Time was passing, and she still had not found either her brother or Wilson. Frantic, she parked the truck at the base of a hill and took several deep breaths.

  She had to stop trying to reason it out and instead rely on intuition and gut instincts. There were times when letting go was the only way to get things done. Ella closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Her breathing became even, her muscles uncoiled. Slowly her thinking became more focused. Guided by a certainty she couldn't explain, she headed east and uphill, new confidence assuring her that she was on the right track.

  Ella soon began to recognize her surroundings. She wasn't far from a place where Clifford and she had tracked mule deer as children. It had been their father's favorite

  camping area. Memories painted vivid images in her mind, and she recalled a time when the whole family had been gathered under a tree. It had been raining hard, and her father had tried to make coffee in the can over a small fire. Suddenly she remembered the hogan—it had only been partially built back then.

  When she tried to recall exactly where it was, her thoughts became fuzzy again. Ella began a soft chant her mother had taught her many years back, a hozonji, or a good-luck song. Apprehension and fear seemed to pass through her and fade away. Then, at long last, she remembered.

  Ella pressed down on the gas pedal, speeding across the rugged terrain. Time was running out, but now she knew her destination. Before long, she saw the hogan. Wilson and her brother were outside, talking. She was downwind, and they hadn't heard the truck. Realizing how vulnerable they were, Ella stopped the pickup and hopped into the back, scouting the area with binoculars. No one was near, but they couldn't be far behind. Ella jumped back into the truck and sped toward the hogan.

  As she raced across an open spot between the pinons, she saw Wilson reach for a rifle. Clifford quickly stayed his hand. She'd counted on them recognizing the truck right away, and now breathed a sigh of relief.

  Ella came to a skidding stop near them. ''You've got to get away from here. There are others on their way, planning to kill you both."

  Clifford gave her a disbelieving look. "Our enemies? In daylight? I think you're mistaken, Little Sister. The ones after me will only attack at night; that's when their powers are strongest."

  "No, I'm not wrong. Guns work fine, day or night. But I

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  don't have time to explain it all now." She saw Wilson turn toward his truck. "No! You can't use that. You'll both have to ride with me. There's a transmitter hidden on your truck someplace."

  Wilson's face suddenly turned ashen. "I led others to this hiding place?"

  "It wasn't your fault; you had no way of knowing. But we have to leave right now."

  Clifford started back toward the hogan. "I need to retrieve a few things."

  "There's no time!" Seeing her brother disregard her warning, she jumped out of the truck. "Wilson, keep a lookout. Get down behind the truck with your rifle."

  Ella drew her pistol and watched Clifford enter the hogan. A second later a shot rang out behind her. The bullet impacted only inches away, shattering the windshield and ripping away the metal trim on the driver's side.

  "Time to leave, Clifford!" she shouted, spinning around and crouching low to use the engine block as cover. Seeing movement in the trees, she fired twice. "Give him some cover fire," Ella yelled to Wilson.

  Clifford ran from the hogan, carrying two rifles and several ammunition pouches. Zigzagging as he ran, he was at his sister's side in a few seconds. A burst of gunfire whined overhead. "How did you know?"

  "It's my job to find things out, Big Brother," Ella said as she looked Clifford over quickly to assure herself he was unharmed. Then she glanced at his weapons. One was his .30-30, but the other was a .30-.06 bolt-action, heavier but very accurate in capable hands. Clifford had certainly been ready to defend himself.

  A volley of gunfire erupted, and bullets struck the top of the hood, just beside them. Caught in a crossfire, Ella fired

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  rapidly into the trees as she and her brother dove to the ground beside the truck.

  "Guard yourselves/' Clifford warned, then began chanting.

  At the sound of her brother's voice, Ella's skin prickled with alarm. The song seemed to wrap itself around her tightly in a deadly embrace, and she had to fight the panic rising inside her.

  "Let's go," Clifford said, grabbing Ella's arms and shoving her toward the pickup door.

  The shooting had stopped momentarily, so she took a chance and threw open the door to the truck. Wilson and Clifford were right behind her as she scrambled for the ignition key. Ella pressed hard on the accelerator. The starter whirred, but the truck failed to start.

  "Damn! I flooded this old thing!"

  "Fear holds them right now, but it won't last long," Clifford warned. "Try again."

  True to his words, gunfire erupted a second later. Everyone crouched as she tried to start the engine a second time. Suddenly the motor roared to life. Bullets thudded into the top of the cab, and the rear window smashed into thousands of tiny slivers as the truck shot forward.

  "We can't outrun them in this old pickup. They're too close," Wilson yelled as Clifford stuck his Winchester out the side window to return fire. "We have to make a stand here."

  "No, we'll be trapped. I have no idea how many there are out there." Ella gunned the accelerator and headed for a narrow path between two clusters of trees.

  As the old truck jumped forward, the gunfire intensi-

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  fied. Wilson stuck his rifle out the passenger window, aiming forward.

  "They're all around us/' Wilson said, firing at a shape moving out from behind a clump of brush.

  His shot reverberated sharply in the cab of the pickup, and Ella's ears hurt. "They're trying to block our escape," she yelled. Three gunmen stepped into view in front of the pickup in the canyon ahead. "We'll have to go right through them!"

  Ella kept her head low and the truck hurtling forward at breakneck speed. The men blocking their way began firing as if in a shooting gallery. Shots struck all around the cab. Wilson and Clifford, now aiming straight forward, through the gap where the windshield had been, returned fire.

  Keeping her head down while keeping the truck on a steady course was hard, but somehow Ella managed it. Some of the men's defensive shots hit their marks—two of their enemies were hurled downward as bullets slammed into them. Wilson and Clifford's marksmanship surprised her. She wasn't sure she could have hit anything at this speed, particularly traveling over bumpy ground. A third man broke for cover as they whizzed past in the bullet-riddled truck.

  "We may yet get out of this alive, Sister," Clifford said calmly. "I owe you one."

  "I'll do my best to make sure you never forget it," she told him.

  Ella didn't look back until they were on the graveled road leading to the main highway. Three vehicles, two pickups and a car, were behind them, racing to catch up.

  "We have a problem," Ella warned. "Those trucks are newer than this old thing, and they're not shot full of holes.

  We're not getting out of this anytime soon. In fact, we're in as much danger now as before."
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  "So are they." Clifford began a new song as he reached into a leather pouch.

  "A few minutes, that's all the time we have," Clifford warned Ella.

  Their truck bounced across a cattle guard onto the paved road. "We'll be okay now. I can make good time to the nearest police station, ,, she said, pressing down on the accelerator.

  "No!" Clifford yelled indignantly.

  "Those guys behind us mean business. After today, I don't think they're about to give up. The police could place you in protective custody," Ella argued.

  "What the police will do is stick me in jail. You can't do that to me." He paused, and added, "Or to our family."

  "I'll find the answers needed to clear you. Trust me, Clifford, please," she responded, looking at Wilson for support. Today, Wilson had truly faced death alongside her and Clifford. She was almost ashamed that she had doubted his loyalty.

  "You don't understand what's really going on," Clifford argued.

  "Fine. Explain it to me then."

  "I know you made our escape easier," Clifford conceded, his sorrowful voice betraying his weariness.

  "Try possible."

  "No, easier," he repeated, "and safer, perhaps."

  "1 think what she did showed courage and merits answers," Wilson said.

  Clifford looked at his friend speculatively, then back at Ella. "What you did today, Little Sister, showed skills and strengths that are far from ordinary. How do you explain your ability to find us? Luck?"

  Ella noted his guarded tone. Something about it disturbed her. "I sorted out the clues I'd gathered, then went on a hunch. It paid off."

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  "Do you always trust your instincts so little?'' Clifford said in a disapproving tone.

  Ella could feel Wilson's gaze on her, though she kept her eyes glued on the road. "It's not magic, if that's what you mean. The subconscious often has answers that are difficult to recall. I've learned how to tap into that when I need to."