Obsidian Tears (Apparition Lake Book 2)

by Daniel D. Lamoreux

  While Natasha Balasan studied the thing in the box, Glenn studied her. She'd taken the job in Yellowstone, he knew, not because it was her dream but because she secretly hoped it would lead to something better. He could read her like a book. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined something better would be carried into her office and handed to her. And so quickly; she'd only just gotten settled into the job. Glenn saw it on her face. The thing on the desk, whatever it was, was her ticket to scientific recognition. If only she could make the meat-headed chief ranger understand.

  As if his thoughts were her cue, she sat at the desk and waved Glenn to the chair opposite putting the thing in the box between them at the center of attention. She turned to Glenn with desk light glinting off her glasses and excitement glistening in her eyes. “Let me tell you a story, Chief. In the early 1930's two prospectors, their names escape me now, were digging for gold in the San Pedro Mountains. You know where that is?”

  Glenn nodded. “South of Casper.”

  “Yes. They'd had some success but the vein they were working appeared to be playing out. So they blasted with dynamite. When the dust cleared, they saw they'd blown completely through a wall of rock and into a small cavern that had been hidden there the whole time. Inside they found,” she pointed, “our friend here; who would thereafter be known as the Pedro Mountain mummy.” Natasha looked from the box to stare triumphantly at the ranger.

  Glenn went ahead and cleared his throat. From her expression and tone, it appeared Natasha had crossed the Finish Line and was headed for the Winner's Circle. From Glenn's perspective, they were still in the blocks waiting for the starting pistol. “But Natasha,” Glenn said. “What is it?”

  “It's an amazing archaeological discovery. Or, to be more accurate, re-discovery. It's a Native American relic. I don't know much about Native American relics, but this is one. One of the biggest. Perhaps one of the most important. Definitely one of the most valuable! It's worth, my God… And that's just money. It's really priceless. The Pedro Mountain mummy disappeared twenty years ago. It just vanished off the face of the earth. And here it is. We're going to be headline news all over the country!”

  “Nope.”

  “What did you say? Did you say, Nope?”

  “Yes,” Glenn said. “I said, Nope. As in, no, we're not going to be headline news.”

  Natasha fell back in her seat. Glenn eased back in his. “First of all, you're not reporting this to anyone in the media until I say so. You're forgetting, Madam Curator, this item was brought to your museum for safe-keeping. That is all. You took it out of an evidence bag. It is a piece of evidence in a suspicious death case. We don't show evidence to the media until the case either demands it or is closed. I don't mean to rain on your parade, but I'd like to know, particularly in light of how important and valuable you claim this thing to be, why the old guy had possession of it? Where he got? What he intended to do with it? And, most importantly, the reason he's now dead? I need to know if he died of a crime. And, if he did, whether or not this thing-in-the-box had anything to do with it. We don't need newshounds on our butts until we have an understanding of what, if anything, happened and why.”

  “So,” the curator said tartly. “I'm expected to just sit on this?”

  “Absolutely not. You're expected to explain in minute detail why this… this Pedro Mountain idol is such a headliner. You're expected to do the research you said would be necessary. I want you to find out and report in writing everything you can find about this thing; the full story of its discovery, its life in the sunlight, why and where and how it vanished, and how it reappeared. No matter how important or unimportant you think a fact might be. I want it all, before the media gets ahold of it.”

  Natasha's shoulders had slumped. The gleam was gone from her eyes. A grim frown had taken her face captive. Glenn saw it but knew he couldn't feel it, not now. “When the time is right,” he told her. “You can go public with your discovery.” She didn't reply but, with his allowing that professional glory might still be a possibility, her frown disappeared. “But,” he reminded her. “Until then, you will not discuss this archaeological wonder of yours with anyone – and I mean anyone. Got it?”

  “Yes,” she said, swallowing the bitter pill.

  “Good.” He pointed at the boxed figure. “Now lock… Pedro… up and start your research. I want your report on my desk ASAP.”

  Chapter 9

  The faces on Legend Rock were invisible in the dark of night. But they were there, as they had been for countless years, and their eyes of chiseled stone peered down on the changing landscape.

  The stabilizing anchor of the upper crust was, thanks to two earlier shifts, gone. Now, as the plates made one final slide far below, that crust was ripped asunder. Untold layers of sediment, made hard over thousands of years, gave way under millions of tons of pressure. With a violent jerk, the bottom layer of rock cracked and erupted in all directions.

  The top layer continued its outward slide, pushing the creek ever closer to Legend Rock and into a thin stream of turbulent, ferocious, even riotous water that savaged the topsoil and carried it down through the newly forming canyon. The sound of finger cymbals had turned to the pounding of timpani as the water was forced into an ever narrowing tunnel, stripping the dirt and vegetation from its place, and tearing down to bare rock.

  The chasm born earlier in the week, cleaved deeper several days ago, now gave way completely exploding into a crevasse with seemingly no bottom. The devastating rumble became the crack and crash of rock bouncing off the sides as it disappeared into the abyss. The crashing rocks fell away to become silence.

  The stoic faces carved in stone continued to watch.

  Minutes passed and a sound, a multitude of sounds, rose from the abyss. It started as a subtle whispered breeze then escalated to a mighty tempest. Shrieks, howls, growling screams, the shouts of legions ascending from the very depths of Hell within the newly formed fissure. Cries and curses that escaped the pit and were carried on a hot wind rising to the stars.

  Though there were no clouds, the air was suddenly filled with the echo of a mighty storm. In the darkness, in what sounded like a tumultuous downpour of hail, the ground was pounded by the tattoo of moving feet. They scurried from the massive rift in the earth, filtered out across the hills and the prairie as leaves before a hurricane wind, and vanished into the night. And no one saw.

  Chapter 10

  A barely perceptible sliver of light silhouetted the eastern horizon. That was enough for Peg Leistiko. Peggy was her given name but on her 10th birthday, six months before, she'd decided Peg sounded older so Peg it was. Yes, a sliver of light was more than enough for Peg. She couldn't sleep, hadn't slept all night, and it was time to do something fun.

  How could she sleep being this close to Yellowstone? Sleeping while on vacation just didn't make any sense! When her dad told them the night before they would camp there because it was so close to the park, she simply couldn't understand. If they were so close why didn't they just go straight to Yellowstone? Parents – sometimes they didn't make any sense!

  So Peg Leistiko climbed from bed, at least her dad called it a bed, in the huge camper that looked more like a fancy school bus – except it wasn't yellow and it didn't have bench seats. The idea of spending her vacation on a school bus didn't make any sense either. But Peg was beginning to realize a lot of things just didn't make sense now that she was grown up.

  So she got out of bed. Then decided to wake her brothers.

  The boys were nearly identical twins two years her junior. Kennie, who was older by three minutes, and Kirk were more than just siblings; they were also her playmates and sometimes her slaves. That was the purpose of younger brothers. That was one thing in Peg's life that made perfect sense.

  She woke them quietly, finger to her lips, sh-sh-shushing them not to make a sound. Their parents would probably not be happy about their getting up that early to explore and play. She would figure how to deal with th
em later but, for now, that meant they needed to get out unheard. Ultimately, Ellyn and Merle would appreciate her adventurous spirit and enthusiasm for doing new things. What her parents didn't appreciate was her calling them by their given names but that just didn't make any sense. Nonetheless, she only did so in her mind or when talking to people who understood her maturity. At any rate, it would be okay as long as they didn't get into trouble and the boys didn't get hurt.

  They'd play and watch the sun come up over the mountains and it would be a sight worth seeing. What, she thought, was the use of being near Yellowstone Park if you weren't going to look for sights worth seeing?

  Peg was already in her khakis, coat, and boots. While the boys dressed in sleepy silence, she grabbed a box of rainbow sprinkled toaster pastries for provisions. Cautioning the twins again about being quiet, the three slipped outside without rousing Ellyn or Merle, who slept soundly in the big bedroom at the back of the camper.

  Now fully awake and eager for adventure, and rambunctiously motivated by their big sister in the lead, the boys slipped into the exciting world of Buffalo Bill State Park to find a sight worth seeing.

  Brothers were often no fun. They could be fun sometimes but, at that precise moment in time, Peg Leistiko's brothers were being no fun. They hadn't traveled more than twenty minutes away from the campgrounds when both Kennie and Kirk decided they were starving. Boys, it seemed, were always starving. They wanted breakfast and insisted on having it despite Peg's pleas of “Not yet” and “Let's wait awhile.” The two sat down on a large rounded rock, just as the adventure was getting started, and wouldn't budge another inch until she gave in and passed out the pastries. She hated it when they banded together in a united front.

  On the 10th birthday that brought about her change of name Peg had been given a great watch. That watch told her for certain they'd been outside nearly forty minutes, were still only twenty minutes out of camp, and still hadn't played at all. They hadn't accomplished any significant exploration, they hadn't seen any sights worth seeing and, in fact, they hadn't done anything but eat all their provisions.

  Now the boys had vanished into the brush to go to the bathroom. Though Peg sometimes thought of them as her brothers, at that minute they were just being boys and nothing else. Boys could be no fun sometimes and, sometimes, they were simply disgusting. Boys just didn't make any sense!

  Peg was alone in the shadowy dark world of sagebrush and tall grass where they'd left her. That didn't bother Peg, she wasn't afraid of the dark. Even if she was, it wouldn't last much longer because the night sky was going from black to blue. The sun was coming up. You might have thought that would make Peg happy but not so much. She knew that during that short while, when night changed into day, the temperature dropped and the air always got colder. It didn't make sense.

  Now Peg thought about the new hat and gloves she'd gotten on that same birthday. She thought about her dumb brothers, how disgusting boys were for going to the bathroom outside, and about how much trouble she'd be in if they got lost or hurt. Then she began to wonder where they were and whether they were all right.

  Even though it didn't make sense, grown up Peg realized that, even if they were disgusting, the boys were her brothers and she wished they would come back. And, just like that, they popped out of the shadows. Relieved, scared, and angry Peg demanded an explanation.

  Both of them, Kennie and Kirk, were agitated, breathing hard, and talking at the same time. It was a habit when they got excited. It didn't make any sense but twins were just weird. They were being boys again and their older sister was having a heck of a time making out what they were saying. As she began to piece their story together, she wasn't sure she understood what they meant. Once she finally understood, she couldn't decide whether or not she believed them. Because, to Peg, what they were carrying on about simply didn't make any sense!

  They shouted their story and Peg had to shush them when they got too loud. There were a lot of interruptions from one or the other to stick in parts the other had forgotten. She interrupted them a few times herself whenever she felt they had left out something important or they weren't making sense and she wanted to get it straight. They told it all – what little there seemed to be to tell.

  They'd gone into the brush to do their business. She knew that. Finished, they started back but found they'd gone the wrong way. When the morning sun glistened on the reservoir, they remembered they were camped near the water and knew they were getting farther from camp. They were about to head back when they saw it. “Saw what!?” Peg demanded.

  What they saw, Kennie said, was another group of kids playing in the distance. But when Peg questioned him she found that wasn't what they'd seen at all. They hadn't seen a group of anything. They'd seen a couple of kids a long way off. They had to have been a long way off, she knew, because Kennie described them as being really small. Peg knew small kids would not have been out and about that early. Kennie finally admitted that he just had “a feeling” they were a group 'cause of the way they were jumping around and showing off.

  “So how many were there?'

  Kennie didn't know. They were hard to see clearly with all the sagebrush and grass and scrubby trees, and so far away, and all in growing black shadows as the dawn became daylight.

  Kirk was no help. He just repeated Kennie, laughing when he wasn't talking. That was something Kirk did a lot, laugh at inappropriate times. He was the youngest after all. So Peg didn't know for sure if Kirk had really seen anything at all. Come to think, with the younger twin laughing like he was, Peg was beginning to wonder if either of them had really seen anything at all. Or if they were just making it up to fool her. Sometimes brothers weren't any fun at all.

  Then, just when Peg had enough of their story, Kennie added, “I almost forgot. The kids were playing with unicorns.”

  “That's not funny,” Peg shouted. “That's a sick joke and you two aren't funny!”

  Kennie reminded Peg they were supposed to be quiet.

  “Don't shush me. There is no such thing as a unicorn!”

  “Well, isn't that what you call horses with horns?” He argued defiantly.

  “Yes. But that doesn't make any sense. Unicorns are make believe.”

  “No they are not,” Kirk chimed in. “We saw those kids playing with unicorns!”

  “Yeah,” Kennie said. “We waved and shouted.”

  “Yeah,” Kirk agreed. “'Cause we wanted to play, too.”

  “And they stopped what they were doing and stared at us. And one started towards us!”

  “But one of the others grabbed him and made him stop.”

  “Why?” Peg asked.

  “I don't know. I don't even know if he really did. It just looked like it. They were a long way off, in the black shadows, behind the trees and the bushes–”

  “Yes. You said!”

  “Anyway,” Kennie said with a sigh. “The one who stopped him pointed at the sun. The sun was just coming up.”

  “And all of the shadowy kids,” Kirk added with a laugh, “took off running into the weeds!”

  “Show me.” What else was Peg going to say? It didn't make any sense. “Show me!”

  Kennie and Kirk, Kirk still laughing, led Peg into the brush and down a hill, winding around and through the sagebrush then up a hill, and over. It seemed a long walk and Peg was starting to feel silly when Kennie said, “I think it's right down there.” So down there they went. They arrived at the spot where the little shadowy kids had been playing with unicorns to find no kids at all. If there had ever been kids, they were long gone. But the ground of the clearing was covered in the bloodied and dismembered carcasses of a half-dozen pronghorn antelope.

  Peg froze in her tracks and covered her mouth not to scream. The boys just stood and stared.

  “Are you sure,” Kennie asked innocently. “Are you sure they're not unicorns?”

  Chapter 11

  With his arms wrapped tightly around the pillow under his head, Jacob
Altobell drifted from a disturbing dream to the realization he was awakening in his own room.

  It had been another long night. Another night with the ex-wife living rent-free in his head. Sleep hadn't come easily since his divorce a year before. The thought of another winter alone in that secluded cabin had him revisiting the whole ordeal whenever he turned out the lights at the end of the day.

  Not that Jake minded being alone most of the time. He relished the serene spring days, summer fly fishing the high mountain creeks, and the crisp peaceful days of fall when he hunted the wilderness areas behind his home. He could spend endless days without seeing another soul as he slipped into his hunter-gatherer role in the dark timbers and high elevation meadows. But then came winter. Winter was a different beast.

  The dead end dirt road delivering the outside world to his drive, rarely used through the year, wasn't used at all in winter. The birds disappeared, the aspen trees were reduced to black skeletons clawing at the sky, and even the fir and pine trees, wrapped in coats of snow, vanished in the never-ending white that encapsulated his world. His few neighbors boarded up their places at the first sign of frost and off they went to warmer climes not to return until the breezes of June carried them back. The first snow was still a good six weeks away but it was on his mind. Winter meant isolation. Real isolation. Hugging a pillow wouldn't fill the void in his cabin and couldn't fill the void he felt in his heart.

  The gurgling noise and inviting odor of the automatic coffee pot pulled Jake from those thoughts. He realized the alarm would go off momentarily and jumped from bed to preempt it. He hated the clock's intrusive screaming. Besides, it was opening day and he needed to be up and about. He needed to put off thinking depressing thoughts or thinking about the dreams that caused them. He needed winter meat. And few things satisfied him these days as did the hunt.