by Mark Lukens
Begay wasn’t trying to insult Palmer; he just wanted to make sure that Palmer was absolutely ready for this.
“Just drive,” Palmer said. He unzipped the duffel bag next to him and pulled out the half empty pint of vodka and poured a little bit into his steaming cup of coffee.
Begay watched the agent spike his coffee, but he didn’t say anything. They were both breaking protocol and regulations right now … they had been all morning. They both had dirt on each other now.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Zeke and Joanie had parked their RV on the hard-packed dirt out in the middle of the desert a few miles away from Piute Creek. They had been out here for three days now looking for meteorites on the desert floor and at the foothills of the mountains.
Zeke knew Joanie was already tired of wandering around the desert looking for space rocks or nuggets of gold or silver. These little nuggets were rare but they could bring big money, especially the meteorites. But what little they’d found so far had barely paid for their expenses on the last three trips out here.
But what else was he supposed to do? Zeke thought. Ever since his neck and back problems had placed him on permanent disability, it wasn’t like there were a lot of opportunities for him to make money. The disability payments damn sure weren’t enough to pay the bills and keep Joanie’s constant supply of liquor flowing freely.
At least the raggedy RV they drove around out here was paid for, and so was the equipment they used. They just needed money for gas, food, and some extra cash for the liquor, cigarettes, and lottery tickets—which were also three of Zeke’s vices.
They were back in the RV now, taking what Zeke liked to call a siesta. They usually worked for a few hours in the morning and then for a few more hours in the evening because it was too hot to work underneath this sun during the middle of the day. Of course it was cold right now—a wicked cold front had come through last week, but at least it hadn’t snowed down here like it had up north where they’d had record snowfalls—but even through the winter Zeke liked to stay on their “siesta” schedule.
Joanie had already drank down a shot of whiskey while Zeke cooked a lunch of canned tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for them. Their lunches usually became their dinner because they mostly snacked and drank in the evening. Joanie drank a lot more when they came out here in the desert than she did when they were at home, which was a modest singlewide trailer in an adult mobile home park. She said the loneliness got to her out here.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” Zeke had told her plenty of times. “You got me here with you.” But Zeke guessed that he wasn’t reassuring enough for her somehow.
Zeke was fine with the solitude of the desert; he’d never been a big fan of people, especially crowds. And the dream of finding that million dollar meteorite or gold nugget was what kept him coming back out here over and over again. Eventually they were going to find something big and then he and Joanie could buy a condo on the beach or whatever the hell she wanted.
He had just buttered four pieces of cheap white bread on a plate while the frying pan heated up. He slapped some American cheese on the pieces of bread and put it all together in the pan.
Then he froze for a moment. He swore he’d just seen something move on the cluttered countertop next to the small stove.
The RV rocked a little with a sudden gust of wind. It sounded like someone had just thrown a handful of sand against the side of their RV.
That was strange, he thought. The weather was supposed to be good … cold, but calm. The worst of the winter weather was already north of them now.
Zeke looked towards the front of the RV, but he had already pulled the shades over the windshield, blocking the light from coming in through the glass. He thought about going up there to remove the cardboard shades so he could peek out through the windshield and check on that wind, but Joanie was already stretched out on the tiny built-in couch a few steps away. Probably close to passing out for an hour, he thought.
The smell of the burning sandwich brought his attention back to the stove. He flipped the sandwiches over in the frying pan. They weren’t burnt too badly.
He heard a skittering noise from behind the bread and tub of butter next to the stove, and then he saw the source of the noise.
“Holy hell,” Zeke said, instantly taking a step back away from the counter.
A tarantula … a big hairy tarantula was inside their RV. It sat there for a moment right on the countertop like it was watching Zeke, like it was daring him to try to kill it. And then it was gone, disappearing behind the loaf of bread and then the canisters.
Zeke moved some of the stuff around on the countertop, but he was tense, ready to jump back if he saw that thing again.
Where the hell did it go?
Then he heard the tarantula inside the cabinets. It was so heavy that he could actually hear the thumping of its feet along the wood as it ran around in there, and the tinkling of dishes as it disturbed them.
Damn, those things gave him the creeps. Spiders and snakes were some of the things he couldn’t get used to out here in the desert.
The smell of burning bread caught his attention again.
“Shit,” Zeke muttered as he turned the burner off and set the frying pan on the cold part of the stove. Now the sandwiches were really burnt … he could eat his, but he was sure that he’d have to make Joanie another one.
He spun around as he heard the spider crawling inside the cabinets across from him.
What the hell? How did the spider get from one side of the kitchen to the other without him seeing it? Were there two of them?
Like the first one, Zeke could actually hear the dishes rattling slightly inside the cabinet as the spider crawled around in there.
“What are you doing over there?” Joanie called out from the couch, already sitting up a little.
“Uh … nothing,” Zeke said. “Just burnt the damn sandwiches is all.”
“I’m not eating a burnt sandwich,” Joanie said.
Of course not, Zeke thought. You’d rather drink your lunch anyway.
Another gust of wind hit the RV, shaking it.
“Is there a storm out there?” Joanie grumbled. She pulled down on the string, raising the cheap plastic blinds up over the window above the built-in couch.
And then she froze.
Zeke looked at his wife, frozen on the couch. Then he saw what she was staring at.
“Spiders,” she croaked.
If there was someone who hated spiders more than Zeke, it was his wife. He rushed a few steps over to her as she jumped up to her feet, still staring at the window, clutching at herself.
“Start the RV,” Joanie hissed. “Get us out of here.”
Zeke barely heard his wife as he stared at the window. It was covered with tarantulas. At least twelve of them, maybe fifteen of them, clinging to the window outside. But it wasn’t only tarantulas; there were other kinds of smaller spiders, two scorpions, and some other kinds of bugs.
What the hell were they parked on? Zeke wondered. There was some kind of infestation here.
“Move the RV!” Joanie screamed, pushing at Zeke. “Get this thing going!”
Zeke’s legs felt weak and numb, yet he also felt adrenaline pumping through him at the same time. It was like he had plenty of energy, but his muscles were turning to mush at the same time. It felt like a nightmare where he needed to run, but everything was in slow motion.
Joanie pushed at Zeke again, almost knocking him off-balance.
He tore his eyes away from the window full of spiders. Joanie was nearly in a full-blown panic now—he needed to get her out of here.
Something was definitely wrong with this spot he had parked on. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t really care to know what it was, he just wanted to get away from here.
Zeke stomped through the galley kitchen on his way to the front of the RV and then he thought about the two spiders climbing around inside of their cabinets.
Two of those spiders had already gotten inside of their RV. How many more were in here now?
It didn’t matter … they were leaving right now.
Zeke plopped down in the driver’s seat, the springs underneath the torn upholstery squealing for a moment. He had the ring of keys in his hand even though he didn’t remember digging them out of his pants pocket on the way to the driver’s seat. He stabbed the key into the ignition and twisted it.
Nothing.
What? his mind screamed.
He could hear the now-constant wind outside, shrieking as it grew stronger. He felt the RV shaking, rocking gently back and forth. But he also heard other sounds underneath that shrieking wind. One sound was a distant howl of a coyote a mile or two away, but the other sound was closer … right on the other side of the cardboard sun protectors stuffed up in front of the windshield.
He tore the cardboard panels away and his breath stopped for a second as he stared at the windshield covered with spiders, scorpions, and insects. He nearly screamed. He couldn’t remember actually ever screaming in his life, but he was about to scream right now and he was afraid once he started that he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Joanie was yelling something from behind him, but he wasn’t listening and she sounded so far away even though he knew she was only steps behind him.
Start the RV, he told himself.
He twisted the ignition key again.
Nothing.
He twisted the key again and again.
Nothing.
“Start the fucking truck, Zeke!” Joanie screeched from right beside him. He hadn’t even heard her run up behind him.
“It won’t start!” he yelled back at her. He pumped the gas pedal with his foot as if that would help and he twisted the key over and over again, afraid he was going to snap the key off in the ignition in his panic.
“What … what do you mean …”
“It won’t fucking start!” he yelled at her. He didn’t know why it wouldn’t start and he didn’t really think they had a lot of time to sort through the possibilities. Right now they were under attack and they needed to get out of this RV. It was only a matter of time before those spiders and insects got inside. Maybe the cold was driving them in … he didn’t know.
Zeke popped up from his seat and pushed his wife out of the way.
“What are you doing?” she yelled, her wide eyes rimmed in tears now as she followed him.
“We gotta get out of here,” he told her. “There’s some spiders in here already. They’re in the cabinets.”
She darted through the galley kitchen and clung to him as he pulled the shotgun out of the tiny closet that was right next to the doorway that led to their tiny bedroom at the back of the RV.
“We can’t go out there,” she said, already knowing what he was doing.
Zeke grabbed his coat and slipped it on. “We don’t have a choice. Those things are going to get inside!”
Now, even underneath the wind and the coyotes, they could actually hear the spiders and other critters crawling over the metal shell of their RV, thousands and thousands of little legs skittering across the aluminum out there.
“Get your coat!” he yelled at Joanie.
They both screamed as something pounded on the flimsy aluminum door that led outside.
Someone was out there knocking on their door.
More knocking on their door. Who would be out there with all of those spiders and insects?
Zeke pointed his shotgun at the door and caressed the trigger with his finger.
Joanie screamed again and Zeke turned to her. She had just put her coat on and a dozen spiders and a few scorpions dropped out from underneath her coat, some of them clinging to her pants on the way down. She jumped around in a little circle, swatting at herself and screaming.
The door flew open, torn off its hinges by the wind.
But it wasn’t the wind that had torn the door away. When Zeke saw what waited in the doorway for them, he finally screamed. The edges of his vision went dark and he knew he was going to pass out. He pulled the trigger of his shotgun and felt the weapon buck in his arms from the blast.
But the thing kept on coming …
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Joe rode his horse while Stella and Cole each drove a four wheeler. David rode with Cole since Cole was much more experienced with the four wheeler than Stella was. They had traveled in a pretty tight group from Joe’s property down into valleys and then up over the sandy hills, venturing deeper and deeper into the wastelands.
They had been traveling for almost two hours now when Stella brought her four wheeler to a stop. She pulled her goggles up and stared at the horizon. Cole parked his four wheeler right next to Stella. He looked at her, and then he looked to see what she was staring at.
Joe stopped his horse on the other side of Stella’s four wheeler.
Stella stared at the black shapes on the horizon. The structures stood silhouetted on a flat expanse of land in the distance with the line of mountains beyond them.
“That’s it?” Stella asked Joe without looking at him. “That’s the sacred place?”
Joe nodded and nudged his horse forward. Stella watched the old man for a moment as he rode away, then she pulled her goggles down over her eyes again and followed him.
• • •
Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to the structures and stopped their vehicles again. Joe pulled up slightly on the reigns of his horse. “Whoa,” he whispered, but his horse pranced around a little, jittery now that she was this close.
This was it? Stella thought. She looked at Joe whose horse still seemed to be agitated, seeming to sense the evil in the air all around them.
Joe looked back at her, reading her eyes. He nodded.
“I thought …” Stella said and looked back at the ghost town they were in front of. “I thought we were going to some kind of … of sacred place.”
“This is a sacred place,” Joe said.
“It’s a ghost town,” she said.
Joe nodded like that was obvious.
“This wasn’t built by the Anasazi or Navajo,” Stella said, her eyes still on the dusty street that split the town in half. There were dilapidated two and three story structures on both sides of the street, some so worn they looked ready to collapse. At the far end of the town, about five hundred yards away, was a white church.
Joe nodded again like her statement was obvious. “I know you might have thought we were going to an ancient city built by the Anasazi, but this is still a sacred site, I assure you.” His horse was prancing around again, eyes wild. “We need to go inside that church down there. There are a lot of preparations we need to make.”
The old man didn’t wait for them; he was already riding his horse down the middle of the road through the ghost town.
Cole nodded at Stella and then he put his four wheeler in gear. David held on to Cole, but he stared at Stella for a moment almost like he was making sure she was going to follow them.
The wind had picked up suddenly. Sand swirled through the air, pelting her skin. She pulled her goggles back down and followed Cole, David, and Joe. She looked at Cole and David who were off to her right a little and still in front of her. The tinny sound of their four wheeler’s motor echoed off the skeletal buildings and petrified wood siding and shingles.
Porches and decks built in front of some of the buildings were crumbling away, not rotting in this arid weather, but just slowly disintegrating away to dust. Many of the windows had been broken out long ago, some of the pieces of glass hung there like sharp teeth; the broken windows allowed glimpses into the gloomy interiors of the buildings. This was a one-street town abandoned a long time ago, yet it felt like someone was here watching them.
It knows we’re here.
The wind gusted again.
The Darkwind, Stella thought. She sped the four wheeler up a little more, getting closer to the others, staying in as tight a pack as they could. Sh
e could imagine that dark, constantly re-forming mass of tentacles and alien-like feelers materializing out of the wind and sand, gaining substance and pushing its way into this world in a solid form. Maybe it could only stay solid in this world for a short time. Maybe it needed to be inside something. She didn’t know. She didn’t understand it, she would never understand it. She just wanted David to send it back to where it belonged and then close that door forever.
The front of the church looked like it had been painted white when they’d been farther away from it, but now that they were right in front of it she saw that a lot of the old paint had chipped and peeled away a long time ago and the wood had been bleached white from the sun and wind. But at least the structure still looked solid; at least it looked safer than the other buildings in this long-forgotten dead town. The church’s double doors still had a little bit of red paint left on them, some of the paint had soaked into the dry wood over the decades, darker down in the cracks. A corroded metal bell still hung high up in the steeple above them and the stained glass windows were cracked but mostly intact.
Joe got off his horse and whispered something into her ear. He gave his horse a kiss on her nose, and then patted her shoulder. The horse looked relieved to take off; she ran back down through the town the way they had come.
“I can’t leave her outside for that thing,” Joe explained and he seemed to be close to tears. “She’ll find her way home.”
Stella didn’t want to ask how Joe planned on getting back home—she assumed that she and Joe would ride the four wheeler back together. Or maybe he didn’t plan on all of them going back. But she didn’t want to think about that.
Cole cut the engine of his four wheeler and Stella killed hers too. They all got off the vehicles and unbuckled their helmets and pulled off their goggles, setting the equipment down on the seats.
Joe had his pack of supplies slung over his shoulder as he walked up the path through the rock garden that led up to the wood steps and the double doors of the church. He opened the doors, pushing them all the way open. He looked back at them, waiting for them to follow him inside.