by R. G. Ryan
That dilapidated little cabin was one of the best things I had ever laid eyes on to the extent that seeing it almost made me weepy. In fact, so great was my emotion, I was hoping like crazy that one of the effects of whatever the hell we’d been dealing with up on the bluffs was that it didn’t turn burly men into ten-year-old girls!
We all quickened our pace, and when we finally came through the door Eddie ran to Cassie and threw her arms around her like they were long lost sisters. They stood in place, hugging and whispering things to each other that I couldn’t hear.
“So, I assume you’ve all met?” Cassie asked stepping back with her arm still around Eddie’s shoulders.
“Earlier,” I replied. “Before Washington and I came after you. And, by the way, this is agent Carter.”
“Pleased to meet you, miss,” he said. “Do you mind if I examine you to make sure you’re okay?”
“Nice to meet you too, sir. And, go right ahead.”
While Carter checked Cassie out, she gave us a play-by-play description of her flight from Paul Morgan: the tumble into the canyon and her fear that he had become something that wouldn’t die, which, based on his latest disappearing act, I had reluctantly come to believe.
She also told us about falling into the opening of the mine and the subsequent terrifying ride in the cart and fearing it would shatter in pieces against whatever waited at the end of the rail. She also talked about the gas, the physical effects she had suffered as well as the hallucinations.
She grew suddenly somber.
“Guys, I have to tell you about something that happened to me down there—something beyond the hallucinations.”
“Okay,” I encouraged. “Let’s hear it.”
“Well, there I was, sitting alone in the dark and having no idea at all which way was even up or down. From out of nowhere I started hearing—I don’t know how to even describe it—thoughts. Thoughts that told me exactly what to do and how to get out.”
“Like what?” Eddie asked.
“Oh, let’s see…things like, ‘By simply following the tracks back the way you came, wouldn’t you eventually come to the entrance?’ And, ‘If gravity got the cart down here, then what did they use to get it back to the surface? Look for a pulley system.’ Stuff like that.”
Carter asked, “So you, what…pulled yourself out of the mine by the pulley?”
“Not all the way. Just until I got to the beginning of the grade. It was there I realized that when the mine was in operation, there were undoubtedly horses and mules up top hooked to the cart to pull it the rest of the way. Besides, at that point my body simply ran out of whatever it was that had kept me going and I passed out. The next thing I knew I was looking into the face of my daring, gallant, courageous, heroic deliverer.”
Cassie kissed my cheek noisily causing the others to cheer.
“Uh-huh…ain’t it always like that,” Washington said teasingly as the laughter died down. “My people do all the work and you white folk get all the love. Mmm, Mmm, Mmm! Some things never change—no suh!”
Cassie leaned across the table, grabbed Grover’s head with both hands and kissed him on the forehead, which prompted another round of cheers and laughter.
“On the way down from the bluffs,” Cassie said seriously. “Jake told me what Morgan did to you, agent Washington, and how badly injured you were. Thank-you for sticking with it.”
“Oh, hey. All in the line of duty. Besides, I wasn’t gonna let no little bit of nothin’ like Morgan get the best of me…well, I mean, I wasn’t gonna let it happen twice.”
I smiled and then asked, “I’m curious as to how you’re feeling now.”
Confusion clouded his features for a few seconds before he replied, “Why, I feel good. Almost normal. I mean…what the hell?”
“And how about the effects from the hydrogen sulfide?’
“Nothing!” Washington answered. “I feel great.”
Cassie nodded, “Yeah, me too. It’s weird!”
I was feeling the back of my head, still largely unwilling to believe what had happened.
I said, “Cassie, the way you described kicking Morgan and the intensity of pain you felt afterward, your foot was almost certainly broken.”
Eddie added, “It sure looked broken to me.”
“Well, it felt broken too,” Cassie said. “What’s your point, Uncle?”
I paused for effect.
“That fall into the canyon must have produced some pretty severe trauma as well.”
“It felt like I had cuts all over my body and one rib felt for sure like it was broken.”
“Uh-huh. And yet you were able to make your way out of the canyon.”
She pondered my statement for several seconds before replying, “I…hadn’t really thought about that. What the heck is going on?”
I deferred, “Hang on, I’m not finished. And I saw Morgan pick Grover up and throw him.”
“Like I was a little kid or somethin’!” Washington affirmed.
“And he did the same thing to me. Just tossed me off of him like I weighed nothing. First of all, it would be virtually impossible for a guy five foot nothin’ who weighed about a buck sixty after a big meal to do that. But impossibilities aside, Grover…I saw you when you came up out of the canyon—you were messed up big time!”
“That’s for sure,” Washington agreed as he examined his ribs.
“Then there’s Eddie,” Cassie pointed out. “Who had a broken and severely lacerated finger, not to mention a gunshot wound to her knee…”
Cassie looked to Eddie for confirmation and she was wiggling her finger, a look of amazement on her face.
I asked Carter, “How’s she look?”
“Well,” he replied. “Apart from being severely dehydrated and suffering from numerous lacerations…Eddie’s doing remarkably well.”
I felt around on the back of my head.
“I’ve had some pretty serious head injuries in my career, and over the years have become pretty adept at self-diagnosis. Guys, I had a skull fracture…I’m certain of it.”
Carter added, “I didn’t want to say anything to you at the time, but I can attest to that diagnosis.”
“But now, it’s as good as new. Not even a bump. And Carter, those expertly executed stitches are gone as well. Does anyone besides me find this a wee bit odd?”
“Cassie—your face!” Eddie exclaimed.
“What? What’s wrong?” she replied with alarm as her hands flew to examine her face.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Eddie said. “That’s it…don’t you get it? When I punched you back at the cabin, it opened a cut over your eyebrow. But now…nothing’s there!”
Washington stared at me with a smile warming his otherwise fierce features.
“It’s what me and Jake were talking about on the way up. How there’s basically no explanation for the things that have happened here.”
That seemed to trigger a landslide of opinions and everyone sort of started talking at once. In the midst of all the chatter, I got up from the table and walked over to where one of the cots rested against the wall. Something had caught my eye and upon closer inspection, I noticed what looked like the spine of a book poking out from under the mattress.
As I lifted a corner of the battered feather bed, I saw a small leather-bound book resting between the mattress and the wooden frame. I picked it up carefully and opened it to the first page. As I read the words that had apparently been painstakingly inscribed, I felt my pulse rate increasing.
“Guys!” I called above the excited conversation. When I got no response I hollered, “GUYS!”
They all stopped talking at once and turned toward me
As I held the book up I said, “I think you need to see this.”
Chapter Forty-six
I walked the few steps back over to the table, still reading the words in the book.
“This is simply unbelievable.”
“What is it, Uncle?” Cassie asked, craning her neck to see.
“I’m not sure, but…well, listen to this.”
I started reading…
I, Malachi Herbert Ransom, along with my brother, Charles Edward Ransom, do hereby set my hand to this page to write of the days of sorrow, giving testimony to those events that will have more than likely led to our deaths by the time anyone reads these simple words.
“What does that mean?” Eddie said, hugging herself as if overtaken by a sudden chill.
“I don’t know, but I’m not sure I want to hear the rest,” Cassie added with a shudder.
I replied, “I didn’t find this book by accident, people. I believe we are meant to read this.”
I continued…
Charlie and me staked a claim and filed such with the proper authorities. We simply had a feelin’ about it. Well, it was more than a feelin’. We were meant to find this place. The long and the short of it is that we are now sittin’ smack dab on top of the richest silver strike in this here territory. The two of us, along with our friend, Jacob Porter, have worked this mine hard and have pulled more ore out of the ground than any of us can rightly figure.
We was havin’ the time of our lives and then Jacob busted through into the chamber, as we have come to call it. Me and Charlie had a bad feelin’ on account of the terrible smell and didn’t want nothin’ to do with it, but Jacob, he was convinced that there was more ore to be had and wouldn’t be stopped. Regarding the ore, he was probably right. I guess we’ll never know on account of what happened. At first it wasn’t nothin’ to be troubled about, but all that changed day a’fore yesterday. Jacob started talkin’ funny and now his eyes ain’t right. In the night he makes noises and talks of his belly and head ‘a hurtin’ somethin’ fierce. He shakes and can’t seem to see real good.
Lest you think otherwise, Charlie and me are not what you’d call weak or cowardly men. But we don’t trust him and are plainly scared for our lives. Our blood may be spilt, but Lord, let it not be in vain. Let our blood be as our name for any that come after and may that evil…
“And it simply stops there like the writer was interrupted,” I said, handing the book to agent Carter.
While thumbing through the pages he mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Carter looked up.
“Their name. It was Ransom.”
“Is that something important?” Eddie said, a look of puzzlement on her face.
Washington held out his hand for the book.
Running his finger down the page, he stopped and read, “’Let our blood be as our name,’ is what the man wrote, like he knew they weren’t going to make it and he wanted their deaths to count for something.”
Cassie was looking down at the bloodstained floor and we all followed her gaze, our attention riveted to the area around the front door where the stains were the darkest
“The blood,” Washington repeated. “You don’t think this is where…”
“Where they died?” she said, completing his sentence.
I stood and walked over to kneel by the door, turned on my flashlight and began a close inspection of the area.
“It sure looks that way,” Carter replied as he joined me. “Based on what I’m seeing forensically, I’d even go so far as to say that one of them died right here and…” He stood and walked slowly toward the table. “…the other two over here by the table.”
I said, “Maybe…and maybe not. Let me take a crack at laying out a possible scenario for you.”
I rose, walked over and leaned against the remains of the counter.
“You’ve got Malachi and Charlie working the mine along with this friend, Jacob Porter. Things are going great until one day when Porter busts into what Malachi called ‘the chamber.’ Based on what happened to Cassie down there—and to a much lesser extent me and Grover—I’m guessing there was a pocket of hydrogen sulfide trapped and then released. So, for the sake of discussion, let’s assume that Porter had been secretly jealous of the Ransom’s owning the mine and either wanted to be considered a partner, or maybe even decided he wanted it all. With all the necessary dynamics already resident within him—jealousy, envy, anger, etc.—it didn’t take much to push him beyond reason.
“Under the influence of the gas, Porter is alternately sick, delirious, disoriented and paranoid. He probably begins to think that the Ransom’s are out to get him and decides that it’s kill or be killed. According to the brief account in the book, neither Malachi or Charlie were ever in the chamber so it’s doubtful they experienced anything other than slight headaches and nausea; maybe some skin and eye irritation. Probably just enough to convince them that it was best to stay away.”
I walked over to stand by the doorway and continued, “It all culminates with Porter coming through the door with his guns blazing while the Ransom’s were eating dinner. In fact, I’m pretty sure they were expecting him to join them judging by the three plates that had been set.”
Carter added, “So, you’re saying that when it was all over, Malachi and Charlie were dead and Porter, mortally wounded from them returning his fire, was as good as dead and most likely bled to death right there by the door.”
“But what happened to the bodies?” Cassie asked.
Everyone jumped as lightning lit up the surrounding landscape and thunder shook the cabin leaving the atmosphere charged with negative ions.
“Getting kinda’ spooky in here,” Washington said, speaking the very thing on everyone’s mind.
Chapter Forty-seven
As the thunder continued to roll in the distance, Eddie suggested, “There had to have been other miners in the area. I mean, don’t you think?”
I said, “Absolutely. So it’s highly likely that some of their friends found the Ransom brothers, and Porter, and gave them a proper burial.”
Distant thunder cracked as I walked back over to the table where I sat down and began thumbing through the book once again.
“Find somethin’ else?” Washington said as he came over to join me.
“Oh, I don’t know. I was just thinking that this would make a heck of a story.” I handed it to Cassie. “Maybe you should give it to Michael and see what he thinks.”
“You’re right,” she replied. “It’s pretty compelling, if incomplete. But then, that’s what novelists do. They fill in the blanks. “
“Not to change the subject,” Eddie said softly. “But I was wondering…what has happened to all of us while we’ve been here? And what happened to Paul that made him able to do what he did?”
A few seconds of silence passed as everyone considered her question.
I finally offered, “Well, regarding Morgan, I am utterly convinced that he was manifesting an alternate personality. But I am also convinced—based on what I observed, as well as what I have studied and experienced personally—that, as I mentioned earlier, he was under the influence of some form of super drug.”
Washington said, “I agree. But the more I think about it, the more I think it wasn’t PCP.”
“What, then?” Cassie asked.
“FLAKKA,” I answered.
“What is that?”
“It’s a designer drug that’s been on the streets for a while. Makes people absolutely crazy and, by some accounts, gives them the ability to perform incredible feats of strength.”
“Like picking up a two hundred and fifty pound man and tossing him into a ravine!” Washington added.
Cassie asked, “And would it also make someone impervious to head wounds? Because I hit that little shit hard enough to fracture his skull.”
I said, “I’ve actually seen guys with multiple Taser prongs sticking out of their bodies; the officers lighting them up over and over again while continuing to come forward, tossing people around like it was nothing. I can’t explain it, but I’ve seen it.”
“But w
hat about what’s happened to all of us physically?” Eddie asked. “How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.”
Cassie rose and began to pace slowly back and forth between the table and the front door.
“When I was a little girl the house across the street caught on fire and these great big fire trucks came to put it out. Do you remember, Uncle?”
“How could I forget?”
“We were standing out in the front yard watching. The firemen sprayed so much water on the fire that the mist from their hoses drifted all the way across the street to where we stood in our yard. And by the time the fire was out, we were completely soaked.” She paused and made eye contact with all of us before continuing, “That’s kind of what happened here. While I can’t explain it logically, metaphysically or even spiritually, there is unquestionably something about this place that is powerful. Everyone can feel it and it seems that anyone within the sphere of that power will naturally benefit from it.”
Carter said, “I can’t say that I have experience to back up your story because I’m the only one who wasn’t injured. But as the resident EMT, I know what I have seen in all of you and on that basis alone I am ready to say…I believe everything you said.”
Eddie was sobbing quietly by Cassie’s side.
“Eddie…are you all right?” Cassie asked as she put her arms around her friend.
“Yeah. It’s just that…that…” More sobs choked off her voice. “It’s just that I was wondering, you know, wondering that if my knee and my finger were healed and all of you were healed, then…well, do you think that other stuff is healed too?”
The full implication of her question was not lost on either Cassie or myself. We made eye contact and held each other’s gaze for the longest time. She started to speak, and then gave her head a little shake and dropped her eyes.
“Well,” I said. “If you are willing to believe what has seemingly happened to all of us, then I don’t suppose it would be much of a reach to believe that ‘other stuff’ could be healed as well.”
In a voice nearly too small to be heard, Cassie said, “What if everything that has ever been done to us in the name of evil is now overturned and that we are now free to hope…to live as we were all meant to live.”