"Will, do you know where Myra is?" Laura Hodges asked. She ran a hand through her auburn hair, hooking strands behind her ear.
"No. I haven't seen her all day."
"What about last night?" Mrs. Tarpin asked, sitting down to his left. "Taylor thought you might have been with her."
"I was, for a while. We met at Ashcroft."
"Ashcroft?" Laura Hodges leaned forward. "Myra didn't say anything about going to Ashcroft. She was supposed to go to Taylor's house for the night. Now I get a call an hour ago and find out she didn't show up at school and Taylor never saw her last night."
Will recalled Myra's mentioning that she was going to stay at Taylor's. They were going to study together for an art history test. "Didn't you call her house to see what happened to her?" Will asked Taylor.
Taylor frowned. "Myra told me she was going to see you. When she didn't show up, I just thought"—she shrugged—"that it got too late and she decided to go home."
Kirkpatrick moved around the table toward Will. "Why did you go to Ashcroft?"
"It was Myra's idea. She wanted to meet me there, so I drove over as soon as football practice ended."
Kirkpatrick stopped in front of him. "What time was that?"
He looked up at the sheriff. "About six-thirty."
It felt odd to be questioned by Kirkpatrick. Will thought of him not so much as the sheriff but as his friend's father. He had known the Kirkpatricks since middle school when he and Claude first played together. Kirkpatrick was a stern but dedicated father, who had mapped out his son's future. He wanted Claude to become an all-American tackle in college and play in the NFL by the time he was twenty-two.
"How long were you there?" Kirkpatrick asked. "Maybe an hour. We walked around the ghost town for a while, then went back to the parking lot." The sheriff placed a hand on the table and leaned forward. "How long did you stay in the parking lot?"
"Not long. I walked her over to the minivan. We talked awhile, then we both left." He waited for the sheriff to ask what they talked about, but he didn't. "Did you see Myra drive away from the parking lot?" He thought a moment. "No, I think I left first."
"You think?"
"I did leave first."
He leaned closer to Will. "Is there anything you're not telling me, Will?"
He shook his head. "No, sir."
Kirkpatrick straightened up and looked over at Myra's mother. "I'll have one of my deputies head over to Ashcroft and take a look around. Hopefully, she just went to someone else's house for the night, since you knew she was staying out, then skipped school this morning."
"I'll check the list of absentees and we'll call every one of them," Mrs. Tarpin said.
"What else can you do, Sheriff?" Laura Hodges asked. "I'm really worried about her. She's never run away."
Kirkpatrick considered her question. "With someone over sixteen, we usually wait until the person's missing for twenty-four hours, but in this case I'm going to go ahead and issue an all-points bulletin."
Myra's mother was well known in local politics. The fact that the sheriff, not a deputy, had shown up at the school to meet her testified to her influence. So did the action he was taking. But Will was glad he was doing it.
"You can go, Will. Good luck in the game." Kirkpatrick patted him on the back.
"Thanks."
As Will left the office and headed back to the locker room, he knew he should have said something about his decision to break up with Myra. After all, it might be the reason she'd skipped school. If he'd been talking alone to the sheriff or to any one of them—even Mrs. Tarpin—he probably would have mentioned it. But at the time, with everyone in the room, it had seemed a personal matter.
But where had she gone last night? That question left Will with an uneasy feeling.
Chapter Three
Corey stepped cautiously out of the elevator and into a wide corridor. She looked to her right, her left. Along the center of the corridor were a row of computer workstations. The screens were illuminated, but no one was at the stations. She decided to go to the right and moved quickly along the wall past panels of blinking lights. She reached a green door and tried to open it. A sign flashed a message: GREEN ACCESS REQUIRED.
She moved on, then stopped by a blank screen on the wall. She tapped the access bar, hoping to gain clearance for the green door. But the screen flashed a message in red: INTRUDER ALERT.
Corey quickly moved on. She came to a corner, paused, then edged forward. She peered down the passageway on her right and saw something rushing toward her, darting right, then left. She calmly aimed her megablaster and fired at a hulking creature garbed in a bright purple and yellow uniform. The alien crumpled to the floor in a heap.
She turned to her left, but this time she was too late. Another alien, even larger and more garishly costumed than the one she'd just eliminated, towered over her and fired its weapon. The computer screen turned into a maze of dots and through the dots a death mask appeared and the words YOU'RE DEAD.
Corey Ridder sighed, then hit the escape button. Beaten at her own game, she thought and smiled. She pushed away from the monitor and looked up at the clock. There was no one in the computer lab this afternoon. Everyone had left for the football game. She checked to make sure all the computers were turned off, then locked the door and strolled down the empty hallway. Once she was outside, she crossed the parking lot and headed for the stadium.
Even though she'd been to all the home games this year, she wasn't really a football fan. She liked playing games, not watching them. But, then, her games tended to be mental ones and mostly played on computers. After all, she was one of the tech-nerds. A female tech-nerd at that.
She went to the games for one reason: to see Will Lansa, number 42. She had a crush on Will, a bad one. It had started during the first week of school this year when she saw him walk into the computer lab while she was on duty as sysop—one of the systems operators. Every time she saw him, her feelings toward him deepened.
The teams were on the field and the game was about to begin as Corey arrived at the stadium and handed her ticket to the man at the gate. She heard the thunder of pounding feet in the stands and then the cheers as the ball was kicked off.
The other team had the ball, so she didn't care what was going on. She climbed into the stands, glad that no one paid any attention to her. Not that she ever attracted much attention. It was just embarrassing, coming to the games by herself.
She kept climbing until she reached the top row, which was empty except for a few middle school kids. Once she was seated, she felt better. Everyone was in front of her now. The crowd looked like a blur of orange and brown, the team colors. A six-foot feathery hawk, the mascot, cavorted on the sidelines near the cheerleaders.
She reached into her purse and took out a butterscotch candy and looked down at the field. The Leadville team still had the ball.
She slipped her hand into her purse again and took out her binoculars. She scanned the sidelines until she found number 42. He was standing next to number 8, the quarterback who she knew was Aaron Thomas. He was in her history class and was a real jerk, but she knew Will had to put up with him.
So did she. Aaron sat behind her and tried to copy her answers on tests, ever since he found out she was getting A's. Otherwise, he ignored her, except for the time he'd snapped her bra. She'd turned around and told him to stop it or she'd file a sexual harassment complaint. He'd muttered that there'd been nothing sexual intended, but he'd never touched her again.
Leadvile was kicking the ball. Good, now she'd see Will in action. She peered through the binoculars as he trotted onto the field and into the huddle.
He looked like just one of the players now, but she knew that he was different, just as she was. They were both from families of mixed racial heritage, but it went beyond that. They were outsiders looking in, and neither of them cared much for what they saw. In her case, it wasn't just because she was black. That was part of it, but it was more complica
ted than that. Her interests and expertise set her apart.
Of course, if she told Charlie Baines, the other afternoon sysop, what she thought of Will, Charlie would laugh and tell her that Will was a football hero. He was popular and accepted by everyone. He'd lived here most of his life and his family was rich.
Yet, she knew Will's secret. She knew that in his heart, he was not what he seemed. Like her, he was here in this Place—this school, this town—but he was not of it.
Her parents were computer consultants who had moved here a year ago from Chicago. They worked at home when they weren't traveling. They enjoyed the lifestyle of Aspen and were concerned that Corey didn't like it much and didn't have any friends. Sure, it was pretty here in the mountains, but pretty views only went so far. She couldn't wait to graduate and go away to college at the University of Chicago where she would live in a real city again. Meanwhile, there was Will Lansa.
Number 42 got the ball on the first play. He zigzagged through the players, broke free of a tackle, and raced toward the sidelines, where he was pushed out of bounds. A roar went up from the stands, and she heard the announcer say that Lansa had gained twenty-three yards.
She quickly calculated that he needed thirty-nine more yards to make the record. The fact that Will was an exceptional player hadn't even occurred to her until a couple of weeks ago when she'd heard about the record he was going to break. She figured Will ran because he had to run or he'd go crazy. It was the same way with her. If she couldn't lose herself in cyberspace, where she created worlds for players to explore, she would suffocate in this charming yet utterly pretentious place, Aspen.
She watched how Will leaned forward in the huddle, how he lined up for the play. He took the ball again, and she grimaced in agony when he was tackled after picking up three yards.
He was looking up into the stands as he walked back to the huddle. She was too far away for him to see her and even if he could, he wouldn't recognize her. The truth was, he didn't know she existed. Whenever Will needed any help in the lab, Charlie assisted him. She couldn't allow herself to get that close to him. Not yet. And there was no way she could talk to him as if he were just one of the other students in the lab.
Two plays later, Will broke free for sixteen yards, and in the following play he gained five. He was getting close now. Fifteen yards to go. With any luck, he could break the record in a couple more plays. Then maybe they would give him a rest.
The huddle broke, and Will lined up a couple of yards behind Aaron Thomas. Will must be exhausted, Corey thought. He was carrying the ball almost every play. From somewhere below her in the stands, she heard several people call out in unison. "Do it, Lansa!"
The ball was snapped, and Aaron jammed it into Will's midsection. He lowered his head and charged through the line. But this time one of the Leadville players dove at him headfirst. Their helmets collided with a crack that even Corey could clearly hear. Will dropped to the ground.
He didn't get up. He didn't move.
She leaped to her feet and watched in a daze, her eyes fixed on the motionless figure on the field. She heard someone say it was a safety blitz. She didn't know what that meant, but she didn't see anything safe in what had happened. People rushed from the sidelines onto the field, surrounding Will, and he disappeared into the vortex.
Corey started walking. She kept walking until she was at the bottom of the stands. She saw two men with towels over their shoulders run onto the field with a stretcher. That was enough. She headed for the gate. She didn't want to see Will carried away. If he was paralyzed- she pushed away the thought and walked faster.
Chapter Four
Firelight flickered off the faces of a dozen young men and boys seated along a curving ledge, and Will realized he was among them. They were in a kiva, a circular subterranean chamber where Hopi rituals were held. Near the fire pit in the center, an old man wearing a robe was talking to them and pointing at the stars through the ladder hole above them. He was saying something about other worlds that people had lived in before entering this world. He was speaking in Hopi, a language Will did not know, but now he understood every word perfectly.
The old priest finished his talk and covered part of the fire pit with a flat rock so that there was only a faint glow in the kiva. Suddenly, a stream of men descended the ladder. They wore robes, and on their foreheads were large four-pointed white stars. One of the men was bald and his head was painted gray.
Masau, Will thought, god of the underworld and guardian of the earth. Masau stood off to one side of the other men who were facing the boys. The initiates.
That was it. The boys were initiates and Will was one of them.
The men with the stars were making a low humming sound and a peculiar hissing like a cosmic wind. They were spirits of the past and other worlds. For a moment, a white-robed figure emerged and said: "I am the beginning; I am the end."
The spirit sounds grew in volume and power, and the chaotic movements of the star-faced figures swallowed the one in white. The flat rock was pushed over the entire fire pit, and the kiva was plunged into darkness. Shouts erupted, the star spirits, priests, and initiates pulled off their robes and scrambled for the ladder to escape the kiva and the darkness that had enveloped the world.
In the midst of the confusion, Masau appeared in front of Will and motioned him to stand up. When he did, Masau stepped back and Will saw Myra in the center of the chamber. She was stumbling away from someone or something, a stricken look on her face, then a hand reached for her throat and a knife flashed.
Will reached out to Myra. But she was gone and he was lying on his back. Several faces, including the coach's and the trainer's, were looking down at him. He felt shaken up, groggy, and confused by what he'd just experienced.
Coach Boorman dropped onto one knee in front of him. "Can you hear me, Will?"
"Yeah."
He held up a hand in front of Will's face. "How many fingers do you see?"
Will focused his eyes. "Two."
"Where are you?"
"Where am I? On the ground. At the game."
"What day is it?"
He felt a dull ache near the crown of his head, but his thoughts were clearing. "Friday. We're playing Leadville."
The trainer asked Will to wiggle his fingers and move his feet. He did so without any problem. He sat up and saw the stretcher. "I'm okay. You don't have to carry me. I can walk."
A couple of players accompanied Will to the sidelines as the crowd cheered. He sat down on the bench and took off his helmet.
"How do you feel?" the coach asked after sending in the next play with the second-string halfback.
"Just a little dazed. Give me a couple of minutes. I'll be ready to go back in."
"No. You're out for the game. I'm not taking any chances. You might have a concussion."
"But, coach . . ."
Boorman walked away and turned his attention back to the field. Will knew that Boorman was always cautious about allowing injured players into the game and especially wary about head injuries. Will felt better already, but he knew his chances of getting back into the game were slim.
After a few moments, he turned toward the stands and gave a thumbs-up sign to his mother and grandfather, who were seated behind the bench several rows up. He searched for his father but didn't see him. Then he saw a man sitting alone with no one on either side of him. His head was bald and painted gray.
Masau.
He was smiling, but then his features shifted, his lips turned down, and his face dripped blood.
"Will!"
He turned around and saw the trainer standing over him. He felt Will's head as he asked more questions, testing his memory. Will tried to concentrate on what the trainer was saying, but now bits and pieces of what had happened in the kiva came back to him. Some kind of ceremony . . . ending in darkness and chaos . . . Masau in front of him . . . Myra killed.
"How would you describe the pain?" the trainer was saying.
&nb
sp; "It's like a little headache. That's all."
"Take these aspirins. We'll see if that does any good. Don't jump up or even walk around. Just stay right here."
Will nodded, and when the trainer walked away, he turned back toward the stands and searched for
Masau. Three girls were sitting in the space where he'd seen the mysterious being from his dream. But now he wasn't so sure what he'd seen.
The game continued on without Will, and in spite of his repeated comments to the coach and trainer that he felt fine, he remained on the bench. Without Will on the field, the team struggled, then faltered. With less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter, Leadville had the ball on the Hawks' twenty-eight-yard line and the score was tied at 14-14.
Then the ball popped free on a running play, and a half dozen players scrambled to recover it. Several Hawks leaped up in the air and pointed in the direction of the Leadville goal line. The Hawks had recovered the ball on their own twenty-five-yard line.
"Lansa, come here," Boorman shouted. Will grabbed his helmet in the hopes he'd have another chance. "Are you ready to go out there?"
"I've been ready since the first quarter," he said, his heart suddenly pounding.
"Okay, you're going in after this play. But before you get too excited, listen closely. I'm going to use you as a decoy for two plays. The defense will be focusing on you, but Thomas is going to pass."
Will's spirits sank. But he told himself he'd alrey conceded he wasn't going to get another chance at the record, that he'd have to wait until his senior year. He watched Aaron Thomas complete a screen pass for eight yards as the coach gave him the two plays.
"Now go out there and do your part. We're going to win this one," Boorman said.
Will raced onto the field. In spite of what he knew, it felt great just to be in the game. It was as if he'd been out of action for weeks. Then a cheer went up as his number was spotted by the crowd.
"I don't like it," Aaron said as Will told him the plays. "You should run at least one of them."
Hawk Moon Page 2