Wolf Dance

by Wolfdance(Lit)

  * * * *

  For the third time that day, Laura listened to the endless ringing as she waited for someone at the trading post to pick up the phone. Sighing, she hung up. It was very unusual for no one to be at Glass Mountain in the middle of the day.

  The day dragged on and Laura continued to call the trading post at least once an hour. The result was the same each time.

  It was just after five in the afternoon when Jessup finally made it back to the office.

  "You okay?" His forehead wrinkled with lines of worry.

  "Yes," Laura answered, though she was not altogether sure that she was okay.

  "You don’t look so well," he commented.

  Laura looked away, hoping that he would not read more in her face than what she would want him to.

  "Things are crazy in town. The sheriff mentioned that he would be around to talk to you soon. He seems to think that you know more than what you are letting on."

  Laura groaned and rested her head on her desk.

  "Did you talk to your grandfather?" His voice was sympathetic.

  "Nope," Laura told him, feeling as if she didn’t even have the strength to raise her head and look at him.

  "Maybe you should go back to your cabin and get some rest? I think you need it," Jessup told her.

  "If you don’t mind, I think I’ll do that." Laura tried to smile, but failed miserably.

  "Go ahead, not much to do around here right now anyway."

  Laura rose to leave, but stopped. "Did my grandfather say anything about where he was calling from?"

  Jessup shook his head.

  "Well if he happens to call back will you let him know I have been trying to reach him all day?"

  "Will do--and I’ll try and get a number where he can be reached." He waved her on.

  "I’ll talk to you later, and I do mean later! Take the time off. I do not want you to go around playing PI. You are going to end up getting yourself hurt," Jessup told her with a stern voice.

  "Sure boss. I’ll try and keep my nose where it belongs." She was amused by his fatherly concern.

  * * * *

  Her cabin was already covered in evening gloom. A feeling of dread reached out to pick at her nerves. Every night she felt it--the feeling of hidden eyes watching her every movement.

  Laura struggled with the keys to the front door, while goose flesh rose on her skin. In an effort to calm herself, she took a deep breath. Laura knew she was acting childish, but nevertheless each night the uneasy feelings invaded her.

  With new determination, Laura inserted the key and unlocked the door. She felt her resolve slipping away as she switched on every lamp. Soon the entire cabin was lit like a lighthouse.

  Once she was able to relax in a hot tub of water, Laura felt her tensions melt away. The anguish of the past twenty-four hours came into sharp focus, and she was torn between exhilaration and doom.

  Justin’s treatment of her had cut deeply and the pain still tore at her. There were still so many unanswered questions, but when she was near him she could never seem to break his spell long enough to put voice to them.

  Why had he not told her that he was chief of the Sungmanitu?

  Why had they drugged her?

  Who was he really and what had he meant when he told her that they had been granted this one night?

  Doubt loomed up to grasp her in its hold. Were the Sungmanitu killers?

  Dressing in warm cotton pajamas, Laura retired to the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and a novel. The warm chocolate did wonders to soothe her frayed nerves.

  After reading only a few pages of her book, Laura found that she could no longer keep her eyes open. Fingers of fog crawled into her mind, settling in to smother her.

  It was hot ... so hot and dark. Steam rose from the jungle floor, covering her with a sheet of moisture. She fought her way through the thick vegetation. Every few seconds she suffered the sting of biting insects.

  Laura pushed on, knowing that she had to go somewhere, but the details eluded her. Finally the jungle opened but the mist marred her vision.

  Straining, she could only just make out the silhouette of the Mayan Temple. A set of burning red eyes sliced through the whirling mist, cutting into her like razors. Laura moaned--her fear mounting.

  She moved toward the temple, inching closer. Silent screams of fright fought to burst free, but could not quite escape her throat. She knew she should run, but her legs kept moving her toward terror.

  Something moved just beyond her vision. She could feel the silent threat of its hunger.

  Laura’s screams filled the heavy air when the large jaguar sprang, hitting the ground at her feet. Gracefully, the animal sat back on its haunches, glaring at her with its predator’s eyes.

  Laura gasped for air. Her body had begun to tremble uncontrollably. Her legs were rooted in place, preventing her escape.

  The cat leisurely brought one paw up and began licking. What seemed an eternity later, the animal brought its attention back to Laura.

  She felt her mind slipping away as it growled out its words. "I have been sent by the land of shadows to warn you. The path you are on belongs to the beast. Turn back before you lose sight of the way." The cat’s roar sent Laura into a spiraling pit--her world was spinning so fast that she could grasp nothing.

  Her screams were vibrating from the cabin’s walls when she woke to a bright morning. It took her several moments before she was calm enough to get off the sofa.

  Staring out the window at the brilliant new day, Laura tried to make sense of the nightmare. Her Navajo blood ran too deep for her to believe that the dreams and events of late were no more than coincidence. Something was definitely wrong.

  Her stomach protesting its discomfort, she went to the kitchen and took a donut from the refrigerator. Laura could almost hear Grandpa Busby scolding her for eating such garbage for breakfast.

  Grandpa...! Her grandfather had tried to warn her about something, but what? She now wished that she would have made more of an effort to find out what he knew of the Sungmanitu.

  Who could she find to reveal the mysteries of Beaver Creek? There had to be someone who was not too terrified to talk, but who? That old miner was pretty mean, just maybe he was mean enough to talk.

  * * * *

  Laura stood at the mine’s entrance. She assumed the old man must be working inside because she had seen no one about.

  "Mr. Hughes!" Laura’s voice held a note of uncertainty.

  She took a few steps into the darkness and was greeted by hollow silence.

  "Mr. Hughes ... are you down there?"

  There was nothing ... nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the tap–tap of condensed moisture dripping from the sides of the tunnels.

  Backtracking, Laura retrieved the battery-operated lantern that hung from a peg at the mine’s entrance. She switched it on and the mine shaft was flooded with a bright, florescent glow.

  Laura started down the damp tunnel. She found that the deeper she descended the harder the air was to breathe. Horrifying images darted through her thoughts--images of being trapped down here in the dark, alone for all eternity.

  The light from the lantern dimmed. She assumed the batteries were dying. Laura strained her eyes to see through the encroaching darkness. Something cold and clammy brushed against her arm.

  Turning sharply in that direction, Laura screamed. Her eyes widened in terror--the walls and floor were covered in blood.

  Gripped by cold horror, Laura backed as far away as she could until she was up against the earthen walls. The lantern dimmed again and then blinked out altogether, leaving her in total darkness.

  Laura’s screams ripped through the darkness when the squeals of hundreds of bats filled the shaft. Trying to remain still, she huddled against the cold wall.

  She covered her head with her arms--even as their leathery wings brushed against her curled up form. Once the sound of the bats died away, another sound reached out to claw at her te
rrified mind. The noise was distant, but getting closer with each passing second.

  Laura remained completely still, knowing that to breathe too loudly might draw its attention. The closer it got the more trapped she felt, and the only place to run led into the bowels of the earth.

  Soon she could make out a dim light coming toward her.

  What if it was the maniac who had been killing people? What if the miner was the one doing it?

  Whose body hung from the wooden support beam? Laura’s thoughts raced.

  The light was brighter now and Laura had to shield her eyes against the offensive glare. She didn't know whether to be relieved or more afraid when she recognized Mr. Hughes carrying an oil lamp. His hunched over form cast a ghostly shadow against the earth wall.

  "What the devil are you doing down here, Missy?" Hughes bellowed.

  Wordlessly, she pointed into the darkness. He turned to peer in the direction she was indicating, lifting the lamp high to help cut through the darkness. Startled, he took a couple of steps back.

  "What the...!" His words trailed off. Dewey’s face went ashen and his hands began to tremble.

  Dewey stood still, transfixed by the monstrous vision before him. He shook himself from his state of shock and held out his hand to Laura.

  "Who did this?" Laura’s voice quivered.

  Dewey shook his head and then went back to studying the corpse. It was pretty much intact from the waist up, but its legs had been torn from the trunk. The limbs lay close by--chunks of meat had been ripped from the bone.

  "Looks like the work of a large animal," he spoke his thoughts aloud.

  "Would an animal be able to hang up the leftovers for later?" she cried, still half hysterical.

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Never can tell in these parts." His wall of secrecy was firmly intact.

  "Why is it that you haven’t come across this until now? It’s obviously been here awhile," she questioned him suspiciously.

  "Number one, Missy, I don’t work this mine full time. Reason number two is cause I been in Cheyenne the past few days. I'd just returned when I heard you screaming your damn fool head off down here. Sounds echo out of here, you know."

  "Have any idea who it is?" Laura was a little calmer now.

  Dewey shook his head. "Nope, can’t say that I do," he told her before spitting a wad of tobacco into the dirt.

  "We need to contact the authorities." Her calm began to waver.

  "Yeah, I suppose that would be the thing to do. Not that they will be able to do a thing about it, except maybe clean up this here mess," he chuckled.

  "Mr. Hughes, I don’t find anything funny about this situation." She scowled.

  "Course not! I was just speaking the truth, that’s all."

  "Let’s go." Laura started for the entrance and before long they emerged into the blazing sun.

  Laura brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the sudden glare. "This is harsh. I don’t see how you can stand to work down there."

  You get used to it, especially when it’s all you know to do. Besides...." Dewey paused to spit more tobacco, "when it gets really hot up here, it stays nice and cool down below."

  "Where’s your phone?" Laura was becoming impatient.

  "No phone." He started toward a mobile home that sat below a lone tree.

  "Hey! Where you going? We need to contact the police."

  "Know that, Missy. I have a two-way radio inside. We’ll radio the ranger’s station and have them call the police."

  * * * *

  Laura and Dewey Hughes stood by and watched while the state police and their homicide technicians combed the mine and adjoining grounds. Having already been questioned several times by the police, they were dismayed when they saw another one walking up to them.

  "Hello, I’m Detective Gates. I take it that it was you two who found the body?"

  "That would be so." Dewey spoke for both of them.

  "I don’t suppose you have any idea what happened or how long he’s been down there?" The detective had taken out a notebook and pen.

  "Right again, sir." Dewey smiled.

  Laura decided it was time to intervene. "We’ve told the story many times already, officer."

  "Yeah, I know but I’ve been assigned to cover this homicide investigation and I have to interview you." He appeared to be as tired as they were.

  "Okay, shoot. Might as well get it done and over with." Dewey was really starting to get annoyed.

  For twenty minutes they endured the same series of questions. Their answer had almost become automatic by now. The detective snapped his notebook shut and walked away when he saw them bringing out a body bag.

  "Don’t go anywhere yet," the detective called back over his shoulder.

  Laura averted her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see the gruesome site once again, though she knew it wouldn't be visible.

  "Cops ... they are too darn bossy if you ask me," Dewey muttered under his breath as he was sticking another piece of tobacco in his mouth.

  While Detective Gates spoke to the technicians he was joined by Sheriff Moss. Soon they both started back to the tree where Laura and Dewey sat, trying to find some relief from the sun.

  "I’ve just been informed by Sheriff Moss that you may have been the last person to see Deputy Spraw alive. Is that true?" He directed the question to Laura.

  "What?" Laura stared at him blankly.

  "The deputy disappeared Sunday night, on the same night he was sent out to question you." Sheriff Moss smiled at her.

  "I’ve never met the man. He never showed up to question me and if he did I was not home." Laura was astounded.

  "Do you have someone that can verify your whereabouts on that night?"

  Laura turned white. "Yes, I was with a friend."

  "Hmm...." He wrote her answers in his little notebook. Turning to Dewey he asked. "Do you have someone who can verify that you’ve been out of town?"

  "Why, yes I do, my sister Hester and her husband. They’re who I stayed with while I was in Cheyenne." He glowered at the police officer.

  "Miss Ellison, I’m sorry to have to do this, but I’m going to have to ask that you stay in the area until we can figure something out." He frowned.

  "I sure hope you don’t have to get back to New Mexico anytime soon." The sheriff tipped his hat to her.

  "Actually ... I do have an elderly grandfather down there, and I hadn't planned to leave him long." Laura disliked the situation more by the minute.

  "I’m sorry. Maybe you can have someone check on him every once in a while. Hopefully we can have this wrapped up soon." Detective Gates’ concern seemed genuine.

  By the time the police had finished with them it was close to dusk. Dewey walked Laura to her car. She stopped abruptly. "Mr. Hughes, I want to know what’s going on around here. I know that you know something." Laura stood her ground.

  "You’re a good girl, Miss Laura, and I’d hate to see anything happen to you, so I’ll tell you this much. People around here are not always what they appear to be."

  "What do you mean by that? Have I come across a whole county of lunatics?" Laura was frustrated.

  "I guess you could say that. Best advice I have is, keep to yourself and don’t be doing a lot of wandering around like you have been. That’s the way I do it, and I’m still alive." His eyes held a warning of the unknown. Laura shivered.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day Laura made another attempt to locate Justin, but to no avail. Not only was he still gone, but so was the entire town of Beaver Creek. It stood silent and empty--appearing to be a ghost town to all unsuspecting wanderers.

  Her disappointment growing, Laura went home. A tall glass of iced tea was what she needed. She felt as if she had stepped into the pages of a horror novel with no way to reenter her own world.

  Too many people were disappearing. Most of the locals had already left--boarding up their homes. Only the store and the saloon remained open in Brantic City, but who knew f
or how long?

  Turning into her driveway, Laura was shocked to see a late model maroon car. Detective Gates leaned against his car and waited for Laura to get out. When she did he flipped open his little notebook.

  Now what had happened? All she wanted was to relax and forget this whole mess--even if for just a little while.

  "Miss Ellison." He smiled.

  "Hello." Laura found that she could not put on a smile.

  She opened her front door. "Would you like to come in?" she asked.

  He nodded, following close behind her.

  "What can I do for you?" Laura asked once they were inside.

  "Do you know a Justin Gray Eagle?"

  "I do," she answered.

  "Would you happen to know where I can find him?"

  Laura shook her head. "In fact, I’ve been looking for him myself for the past few days. What do you want with Justin?"

  Ignoring her question, he continued. "How did you come to know Justin and what’s your relationship with him?"

  Laura reddened, as much from anger as from embarrassment. "He helped me fix my truck when I broke down. As for our relationship, I don’t think that’s anyone’s business."

  It was a dead giveaway and he felt no need to pressure her on the subject further. "If you do see him, will you tell him to contact the state police in Acton? It's very important that we speak with him."

  "Yes, of course, but what exactly do you need to talk with him about?"

  "I’m sorry, Miss Ellison, that’s police business. You know--classified and all."

  It didn't matter. She already knew what they wanted. Even though she had suspected for some time that they would be after him--the reality of Justin’s situation hit her hard.

  "Can I ask you a question?" Laura inquired.

  "Yes, go ahead." He smiled.

  "Why did you wait for me, and how did you know I'd be home soon?"

  "The Sheriff’s Department has been having you watched for days now." He winked.

  Laura’s breath caught in her throat.

  "Why is that?"

  Gates shrugged. "I believe you are a suspect in the investigation--on their end but not necessarily on this end." Again he smiled.