He showed them the excavation and pointed out the misshapen bones of the body.
“We just unearthed this, this morning. Have you ever seen anything like it? We cannot let this be buried again. This is a one-of-a-kind find! The knowledge we could gain from this poor man is priceless.”
The sheriff peered at the corpse through squinted eyes. “I’d have to agree that’s one ugly sum’bitch. Unfortunately, I’m not one of you eggheads. I’m just the sheriff, and the legal owner of this property has asked me to stop you from disturbing this here grave, and make sure you return everything you’ve taken.”
“That is not going to happen, officer.”
The sheriff’s squint narrowed into a dangerous glare. “What makes you think so? Are you looking for trouble?”
“No, but I have a contract from the previous owner allowing me to excavate this site and keep anything I find. In fact, it requires me to remove every artifact I uncover. He wanted this gone as soon as humanly possible.”
“Is that a fact? Well, I’m inclined to think that contract isn't much good anymore, seeing how it’s with a dead man, and the new owner doesn't share his dad’s feelings.”
With a sigh, Mark relented. “Okay, we’ll wrap it up, and we won’t take anything more that we haven’t uncovered.”
The younger man spoke up. “No! Everything here is sacred to my people. These belong to the Shawnee.”
“This mound predates the Shawnee. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Shawnee killed these people’s descendants when they overran the area.”
Mark sure knows how to get on people’s good sides…
“You are a liar and a thief!” The young man whirled back toward the sheriff, his ponytail flying behind him. “I demand that everything taken from here be returned to its rightful place! These grave robbers are dangerous criminals and should be thrown in jail!”
The sheriff reacted to this outburst with distaste, “Tone it down, Dennis. Pretty sure that mouth is what got you that shiner in the first place. I’ll handle this. Mr. Samson, I’m not in a position where I can decide on the law in this matter. Since Mr. Hatzer passed away early this morning, I’m thinking there is enough question on who is right that I need to get the lawyers involved. What I’ll do, is carefully take up what you have collected today, and bring it down to our evidence locker. It’s a nice, safe place, and everything’ll be cataloged and checked in. Then, if you can convince a judge that your claim is valid, you can have it back—no harm, no foul.”
Noting my uncle’s obvious anger, he added, “Best I can do. If you have a problem with it, then take it to the judge.”
Uncle Mark’s hands, which had been clenched at his sides, relaxed as he realized that he couldn’t change the sheriff’s mind. He told me later that there is no use in annoying the functionaries and bureaucrats, because they could make life miserable. You wanted them to be as much on your side as possible.
“Okay, everyone,” he said. “We’re done here. Pack it up!”
The peanut gallery that had grown around us groaned in frustration, but I was seriously relieved, the knot in my gut started to unwind. We were going to get rid of that skull and skeleton.
The sheriff had my uncle lead him to the specimen area along with Dennis. After I had shoved the stick surreptitiously into the waistband of my pants and covered it with my shirt, I followed.
Mark gestured to the pile of bones and artifacts. “Here is what we uncovered today, Sheriff.”
The sheriff eyed it, though he kept his distance and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “All of this came from that little hill?”
“Yes sir, we found more yesterday.”
Dennis whipped his hand toward the skeleton’s missing head. “Where is the skull of the skeleton you uncovered today?”
Uncle Mark turned to him with eyes wide and guileless. “That's part of the mystery. We've uncovered several sets of bones without matching skulls. We're hoping that we could take this mystery to the archeology department at the university and see if they could make any sense of it.”
I had to stop myself from telling the Sheriff exactly where the skull was.
Dennis scowled. “You’re lying!”
Mark looked back at him with narrowed, flashing eyes. “Stuff it in your peyote pipe, you poisoning little twit!”
Dennis started another angry retort, but the sheriff caught on quicker than his general attitude led me to believe.
He stepped in and said to my uncle, “Are you accusing him of being the one who spiked your water?”
Apparently, the sheriff knew about the incident with the drugging earlier that week.
Dennis started an angry denial, but my uncle cut him off.
“I recognize you now. You were on my crew two days ago. Sheriff, I want you to take this man into custody on suspicion of possession of narcotics and using it on unsuspecting people.”
The sheriff gave the sputtering Dennis a nasty scowl. “Shut it, Dennis. I’m going to be asking your dad real nice if I can search your room, and if I find anything there, it’ll not go well for you.”
Dennis turned pale and shut up.
The sheriff turned to Mark. “Now, can you be real nice and put everything you found in my car? I don’t want anything getting damaged.”
Mark agreed as graciously as possible. Like good little citizens, we loaded up the vehicle, but Dennis still had one more protest in him.
“Sheriff, you can’t believe that story about the skull being missing! You have to check their cars and trunks!”
The sheriff merely glared at Dennis, who shut up, showing that he wasn’t entirely devoid of common sense.
Mark and the sheriff exchanged cards and a receipt, and then the sheriff asked us to collect our things and leave. We took our time, but it didn’t take long to have everything collected and back in the cars.
Discouraged by this turn of events, but not crushed, we arrived back at the hotel, and gathered in Mark’s room to compare notes.
Dave and Gregg had a couple of arrowheads, and Alan had absentmindedly pocketed a finger or toe bone. Ricky had stuffed about a dozen of the freshwater pearls we had found in her pockets and seemed quite happy about it. In fact, she was quite cheerful at the thought that she’d have her Sunday free. Me? I had my stick, but I had serious misgivings about Uncle Mark taking Wendigota’s skull.
Mark thanked us all and offered us our pick of the lesser artifacts from the day before. Between the pearls, bones, flints, and a more standard effigy pipe made of pipestone, everyone grabbed something, and then we broke to our separate rooms. I took my stick into the bathroom, cleaned it off, and then hopped into the shower.
The shower felt glorious and too short by half. I had to get out to let my dad have his turn. While searching my bags for clean clothes, someone knocked at the door. I loosely wrapped myself with the towel and had to hold it in place, because it was too short to tuck into itself. I opened the door.
Ricky smiled at me, more of a smirk really. “Hiya, mud-boy!”
I turned bright red as I backed away to let her into the room. She must have found my color amusing, because her smile slipped from the smirk into the full, beautiful smile that had originally blown me away.
“Gee, thanks,” I managed as she walked in.
“I’m sorry, Finn, couldn’t resist. I just came to say goodbye to you and your dad.”
Disappointment shot through me. “You’re not staying for dinner?”
“Nope, I’m heading home. I want to sleep in my own bed and see my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Crushed for no reasonable reason, I backed away. It wasn’t as if anything had happened between us. “Well, drive carefully. I hope we’ll see you again sometime.”
“Maybe. I’m working for your uncle, so you never know.” She stood in the middle of the room and looked around. “Where's your dad? Is he in the shower?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, well, tell him I’m sorry I missed him, and that I enjoyed w
orking with him.”
I bobbed my head. “I will.”
Her wide smile came back. “Oh, I’ve got something for you.”
Intrigued that she had thought of me, I asked, “Really? What is it?”
She reached into her pocket and removed a bulge that I hadn’t noticed. “Here!” She tossed it right at my chest.
Of course, I caught it. Of course, I also dropped my towel to do it.
She leered with delight at my free show. “Given how much time you spent looking at my breasts all day, I figured you’d never seen a pair, so I got you that.”
I panicked and crossed my arms and legs over my all-over.
She strode past me to the door as I dove for my towel.
Though I didn’t see her face, I imagined her smile as she said, “Don’t worry. Me, I’ve seen plenty of those before. Bye, Finn! Say goodbye to your dad for me. Thanks for the show!”
By this time, I had re-wrapped myself and popped up to see her closing the door behind her.
I collapsed in embarrassment on my bed and then remembered her gift, still clutched in my hand. A small female fertility statue stared back at me, the kind with the massive pendulous breasts and large hips.
“Ha! Ha!” I called after her sarcastically, even though I knew she wouldn’t hear me.
I looked at it again and knew I was truly pathetic when I found its exaggerated features intriguing. Abandoning that line of thought, I put it on the dresser while I wondered where she had come up with the figurine.
Thankfully, some time passed before my dad finished with his shower giving me time to dress and compose myself.
When he came out, he asked, “I thought I heard someone come in.”
“Yeah, it was Ricky. She was heading home and just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Oh, okay. She seems like a nice young woman.”
I nodded, perhaps a little unenthusiastically. “Yeah, I guess so.”
That evening, we chatted over pizza, Dr. Pepper, and beer for quite a while, swapping stories and musing on whether Mr. Hatzer had come to a nefarious end or died of natural causes with bad timing. Uncle Mark seemed to prefer the former and my dad the latter. I agreed with Uncle Mark, though why the excavation of a small burial mound would be worth such drastic measures escaped us all.
After dinner and without the adults, I talked with my friends in the lounge of the hotel.
“Okay Finn,” said Alan, “This is our last chance to go back to the mound at night. Let's do it.”
Gregg and Dave nodded their agreement.
“Sorry guys, but that Indian guy is going to be camped out there overnight to make sure we don't desecrate the site any further.”
“Crap,” said Gregg. “You're right.”
I stood up from the comfy chair, stretched, and yawned. “I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed.”
Dave said, “Wimp” as I turned and walked away.
I hurried to my room and from there straight to bed. There, I pulled the stick out from under the pillow. It felt like seeing an old friend or perhaps being happily greeted at the door by your dog. I flopped onto the bed and studied its gnarled, curved shape and felt the soundless beat accompanying it. I couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so cool. Unfortunately, the disharmony between the bear and the stick kept jarring my nerves. I reluctantly pulled the bear off my neck and put it beside me on the mattress. Once I did that, there was nothing but the mesmerizing beat of the heart.
My dad came in and saw me playing with the stick. “What do you have there?”
I played for nonchalant. “Oh, it’s just a cool stick I found at the site.”
“Odd looking stick.”
“Yeah, that’s why I picked it up.”
“Can I see it?”
I swallowed my familiar knee-jerk “no!” and handed it over to him. “Sure.”
He lifted the stick to his face and examined it through his round glasses. “Wow, this is a beautiful piece. It looks like you found yourself another artifact. Look where it’s been worked at its base. It’s warm, too. I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you find it?”
Fear of losing it made my palms sweaty, and when I spoke, I stumbled over the words. “Uh, n-near the big skeleton.”
My dad hesitated for what seemed a long couple of seconds before handing it back. “Here you go. I think that’s one of the most unusual artifacts I’ve ever seen.”
“Me, too.”
“We should take it to the archeology department and see what they make of it.”
Fear of losing this stick shot through me, but I managed to nod without appearing too nervous or upset by the idea.
My dad tore his eyes off the stick and headed to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. I slipped on my PJ’s, propped myself up with the overstuffed hotel pillows, and turned the stick over in my hands. I couldn’t stop thinking about my dream of Wendigota and the reality of the skull. My dad came out, picked up a book, and sat on his bed. Instead of lying down and reading, he turned to me. Without his glasses to defuse it, his gaze was intense.
He misinterpreted my frown and said, “Hey, Finn, I’m sorry the dig got canceled. That was tough for all of us.”
While I studied the stick, I said, “Dad?” I stopped. I didn’t know how to tell him about my dream or my fears.
He waited patiently for me to continue.
“Dad, I’ve got a really awful feeling about that skull…”
“It is very disturbing. I’ve never seen anything quite like that, either.”
“Dad, I think Mark shouldn’t keep it in his room. I think maybe we should…”
I didn’t actually know what I thought we should do. We couldn’t rebury it, and there was no way we could get it away from Mark.
“Something is seriously bad about that entire skeleton. That thing freaked me out.”
Supernatural explanations probably never even crossed his mind. “I can see that. Imagining what that man must have lived through and looked like is pretty upsetting.”
A wave of fatigue passed through me. No way could I get him to understand, let alone share my fears, so I didn’t try to clarify my feelings. I just nodded, turned off the light over my bed, and lay back.
“This is probably a blessing in disguise,” he added. “This will give you most of Sunday to study for your finals. Also, your mom will be happy to have us back.”
The memory of what awaited me on Monday flew back from the dark recesses of my mind and whacked me upside the head. I so didn’t want to face a bunch of school bureaucrats on Monday morning, and my upcoming finals were just the icing on that particular turd cake.
That night, I held the black stick and felt, more than heard, its pulsing rhythm. It reminded me of complex multi-tonal African drums, but strangely, I knew this rhythm. There was a random element so I couldn't quite predict it, but each beat felt obvious and right when it came.
If someone followed me around playing drums like this all day, it would drive me crazy, but you know how it is when you are the one making the annoying noise or drumming your pencils on the edge of the desk; it doesn't bother you? This rhythm felt that way.
It carried me off into sleep like a mother's lullaby.
Waiting for Justice
Sunday morning was brutal. My dad got me up early, and without the call of the dig, I had nothing to help get me out of bed but a three-hour drive. Yuk. I’d inherited my Uncle’s impatience with car travel. (DNA not required.)
Through threats and cajolery, my dad got me moving, and we ran into Mark in the dining area. We sat down with him, and he and my father talked while I sat eating my frosted flakes like a zombie.
When we were about done, my dad said, “Mark, do you need some help packing everything up into your car?”
“Nope, already done. I was too excited to sleep-in this morning so I made myself busy instead.”
My dad grinned. “Pretty exciting stuff—even if we were cut a little short.
What are you going to do with all that?”
“Well, I’m taking several items to my store and loaning the rest to some real archeological types I’ve been consulting on this.”
“Good, they can’t get an opportunity like this very often.”
“Yes, even though it was a serious travesty of a dig, I think we've got enough video and still footage to assuage them a little bit. My friend Fred almost had a stroke when he heard what happened with that excavator.”
My dad nodded. “That I can empathize with.”
“That reminds me. Finn? … Earth to Finn.”
My name finally registered, and I looked up at my uncle trying to parse the previous conversation sitting in my short-term memory, which would have been lost without his interruption.
“Since I’m taking a lot of this in, can I borrow your bear and let them play with it for a while?”
A couple of thoughts made me shudder. The first was the image of a researcher playing a certain tune, turning into a ten-foot bear and eating his grad students. The second was the thought of me being without the bear.
“Are you in there Finn?”
I realized I had just been staring blankly at Mark. I shook myself. “Oh, yeah sorry. I’m just tired.”
“So, can I borrow it kiddo?”
I paused to think about it and tried to view it rationally. No one was going to turn into a bear. On top of that, I realized that as much as I had grown accustomed to and treasured its presence, I didn’t need it like I had. I now had the stick, and it made the loss of the bear seem far less important. The bear’s job of showing me the heart was done. I had no idea where that idea had come from, but it seemed true. Besides, from my odd point of view, I was trading up.
“Um, sure.” I fished my hand into my pocket and pulled out the bear. My uncle’s eyebrows went up when he saw where I had been keeping it.
“I, er, was planning on giving it to you… I’m glad you said something or I would have forgotten.”
Mark grinned. “Yeah, sure.” He took the bear in his hand. It looked smaller when he held it because his hands were so much bigger than mine. He tossed it a few inches in the air, caught it, and pocketed it. “Thanks kiddo. I’ll get it back to you as soon as they’re done with it.”
The Dryad's Kiss Page 15