by James Hunt
“She won’t mind,” Amy said, brushing back Maisie’s hair. “Just go up there, pack, and then stay there until I come to get you, okay?”
Maisie nodded.
“Good girl.” Amy kissed Maisie’s forehead and then sent her on her way. She waited until her daughter was in the elevator and then tossed one last glance at the mine before heading for Ghost Town’s exit.
Amy saw the tents still erected outside, and she hastened her pace. “Kara!”
A few bodies stirred from the tents. None of them were Kara.
Breathless, Amy stopped her jog, staring at the stoic figures. “I need to speak to Kara.”
No one moved.
“My daughter is sick!” Amy stomped her foot, her body on fire with anger in the midday sun.
Movement behind the stoic figures caused everyone to turn, and Amy squinted as Kara emerged from one of the tents. She spoke to the others quietly, whispering in their ears in her native tongue, and one by one they turned away, each of them taking down a tent, moving efficiently, but in no hurry.
Kara stepped closer to Amy and crossed her arms. “I see you’ve changed your mind?”
It was the sense of arrogance in Kara’s voice, combined with the rage that had bubbled up through for the past several months, that finally pushed Amy over the edge as she grabbed hold of Kara’s collar and yanked her close. She snarled through gnashed teeth.
“Everything that’s happened to my family has to do with that mine,” Amy said. “The same mine where I saw a man and heard voices. The same man and voices that I’ve been dreaming of for the past three months.” She pulled Kara closer. “I need to know what is going on.”
Despite Amy’s aggression, Kara showed no signs of panic or distress, not even a hint of retaliation. It wasn’t until a hint of a smile curved up the left side of her face that she gave any indication of what was turning behind those dark brown eyes.
“Tell me!” Amy shook Kara’s shoulders.
Kara shrugged Amy off. “You took that tour of the mine? The one where they speak of the mine’s curse?”
“Yeah.” Amy nodded, still breathless. “What? You’re saying it’s true?”
Kara scoffed. “Not the way they tell it. To them it’s just a way to sell tickets, make money. But the story they tell is based on truth. A truth that my people have passed down for generations.”
“But what does this have to do with me?” Amy asked. “Why is my daughter sick?”
“Because she took the gold,” Kara answered. “Only a puhagante can heal her now.”
“A what?”
Kara stepped closer, a sense of urgency to her now that made Amy nervous. “We don’t have much time. If she cannot be saved before nightfall, then she will die.”
Amy struggled to follow along, to remain caught up. “Save her? I don’t—” She raked her fingers through her hair, struggling to breathe. “This can’t be happening.”
“It is happening, Amy,” Kara said. “Everything you’ve experienced over the past three months has been real. Even the man in your dreams.”
Amy looked up. “Who is he?”
“His name was Arthur Donovan,” Kara answered. “He was the original owner of the mine, the one who kicked my people off this land. He is as cursed as the gold that rests in the ground. And it is there he will stay until the end of time.”
Amy frowned. “He said he wanted my blood?” Amy clutched her chest. “Oh my god. Liz. He wanted Liz!”
Kara stepped forward, grasping hold of Amy’s shoulders and keeping her still. “Listen to me. You can save your daughter. But you need to come with me. And you need to come now.”
Amy nodded. “Okay. I just have to grab Maisie.” She backed away. “I’ll be back.”
“Grab only what you need and meet me back here!” Kara said.
Amy sprinted back toward the hotel, her mind racing with more questions. Curse. Blood. Miner. Puhagante. She didn’t understand how she was connected to all of this, but she knew that she believed Kara when she said that her daughter was in danger.
43
Even though her mother said it was okay, Maisie was weary when she started to pack up Liz’s clothes. But it wasn’t because she was afraid that Liz would get mad, she was just worried about her sister’s health.
It seemed like everyone was getting sick lately, and she didn’t know why. She had been around Mom all summer, and she hadn’t gotten sick. Why now? Why Lizzy? Why all of a sudden did things start to fall apart just when they were starting to get better?
Maisie picked up the last of Lizzy’s shirts and put it in her suitcase, but as she turned, a shimmer caught her eye. She turned back toward the window and saw a glass vial near the nightstand by the bed. She walked toward it gingerly and then dropped to her hands and knees to get a better look.
She popped her eyes open in amazement when she realized what it was, followed by a slow, gasping breath. “Gold.” She picked it up and twirled it between her fingers. She frowned, unsure of how Lizzy had received the gold, but then she dropped it in horror at the realization of where it must have come from.
“The curse.” Maisie stood and looked out the window and down toward the mine. She turned back to the gold, the flecks glittering beneath the sunlight.
That’s what was making her sister sick. Just like the gold that had killed all of those miners so long ago. Lizzy should have known better than to take something like that, but then again, she never believed in that sort of thing.
Maisie once again knelt to the vial and carefully picked it up. If it was the gold that was making her sister sick, then she needed to get rid of it. But she couldn’t just throw it away. She needed to take it back to where it came from. Then, maybe, her sister would get better.
She smiled and hurried out of the room, the vial of gold clutched in her small hand. She hit the elevator button and went to the first floor. Her mother had asked her to help. And this was the best way for her to do it.
44
With Amy’s mind circling with more questions than when she started, she hurried up the stairs to the top floor and sprinted to the room. “Maisie! Maisie, we need to go! Have you finished packing—” She didn’t notice that the door was already cracked open, and nothing seemed strange until she stepped into the room and found it empty. “Maisie?”
One step, then another step, Amy’s movements slow but methodical. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes that she had left her daughter alone.
“Maisie!” Amy checked the bathroom, and then under the beds. She spun in a circle, fingernails digging into her scalp as she hyperventilated. “Oh my god. No. No-no-no-no-no-no.” She shut her eyes. “This can’t be happening.”
She stumbled around the room, lost, disoriented. Her head suddenly throbbed, and all of a sudden, she went cold, almost as if she were having another spell.
Blood for gold.
The voice pricked the hairs on the back of Amy’s neck and she opened her eyes, terror gripping her as she stumbled toward the window. She pressed her hands and face against the glass and saw Maisie entering the mine.
“No!” Amy screamed and then pushed herself away from the window. She sprinted out of the room, through the hall, and down the stairs.
Sunlight blinded her when she ran out from the lobby and into the street, screaming so loud that her voice had gone raw and cracked. “MAISIE!”
She entered the mine, passing from light to darkness, which once again blinded her as she stumbled recklessly forward, her voice bouncing off the walls and traveling through the narrow shaft.
“Maisie!” But Amy’s only response was the bounce back from her own voice. She skidded to a stop when she reached the dead end, but the sound of the elevator from behind the hidden door caught her attention and she ducked inside, finally fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Maisie?”
She curled her fingers around the cage of the elevator shaft, the mechanism already reaching the bottom floor. Amy smashed the lift button a
nd the machine began its ascent. “Maisie, just stay right there! Mommy’s coming for you.”
Amy checked her phone for reception, but she had no such luck this deep into the earth. She paced anxiously and nervously as the elevator came up, and it only worsened on the descent.
Amy pressed her face against the bars when she neared the ground and then flung the doors open quickly as she sprinted into the deeper section of the mine, shining her light into the darkened void ahead of her. “Maisie?” She started to cry, the sobs rolling out of her as she struggled to keep her composure. “Maisie.”
“Mommy?”
Amy pivoted toward her daughter’s voice and saw Maisie standing deep in the mine, the light from her phone barely able to illuminate her daughter’s face. “Oh my god, Maisie.”
“Mommy, it’s okay,” Maisie said, no hint of fear or anxiousness in her voice. “I’ve brought the gold back.” She held up her hand, the gold in her palm still able to shimmer from the distance between herself and the light on Amy’s phone.
Amy walked slowly toward her daughter, carefully. “Maisie. Sweetheart. Come to me.”
“But I have to give the gold back to the man, Mommy!” Maisie stomped her foot.
Amy froze. “What man?”
“The gold miner,” Maisie answered.
Amy glanced around, making sure that the pair of them were alone, and then took a single step toward her daughter. “Maisie, you need to come with me right now. We need to get out of here.”
“Why?” Maisie asked, taking a step back, forcing Amy to stop.
“Because this place is dangerous,” Amy answered. “And we need to go and be with your sister. You want to see her, don’t you?”
“But I’m helping her,” Maisie answered. “Just like you told me to.”
Tears rolled down Amy’s cheeks. “Maisie, please. Come with me. Now.” She took another step, her hand outstretched and trembling. “We need to leave.”
And as though her daughter finally sensed the fear, her skin went pale and she widened her eyes. “Mommy.” Two hands appeared from behind her and quickly sucked her into the darkness.
Amy sprinted forward. “Maisie! Maisie!” Her throat grew raw from the stress of her screams. “Give her back!” She ran as far and as fast as she could, keeping the light shining ahead, scouring the darkness for where her daughter may have disappeared, but found nothing.
Devastated and shocked, Amy spun in circles, trying to catch her breath and failing in her attempt.
“This can’t be happening.” Amy shut her eyes and balled her hands into fists. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
“You are awake.” The voice bellowed from the darkness. “Awake in my nightmare.” The voice was rough like the granite that had been carved from the earth, and the laughter that followed hurt Amy’s ears.
Amy walked farther into the darkness, flashing the light along the walls and ceiling, searching for the man or creature or ghost or whatever it was that spoke so provocatively. It pulled her deeper into the mine, a mixture of curiosity and fear swirling through her body. She wanted to stop, but her feet continued to step forward.
Amy walked forward slowly, the air around her growing colder. Her breaths started to become labored and strained, painful even, but still Amy kept herself hidden in the darkness.
She pressed forward, blind and trembling, the silence worse than the voice that had plagued her mind, the same voice that she was convinced would be the end of her. And with the darkness that had befallen her, it made the waiting for the final blow so much more painful than it needed to be.
“So, this is the blood you brought me.” The words rolled off the miner’s tongue, and the laughter that followed were like the lashings of a whip against Amy’s back.
Tears blurred her vision, and the fear of losing her daughter slowly transformed into rage against whatever had taken her. “Give her back.”
Her voice pierced the darkness, this time triggering a low rumble of the mine. The ground rattled, and Amy struggled to stay upright. The light wavered in her hand, and she stopped, staring into the pits of the void.
“The price for gold was blood,” the voice spoke with a smile in his face.
“If you want blood, then take me!” Amy pleaded, shifting her gaze in every direction, not knowing when or where they’d be able to see her, but she continued to push forward.
The rumble worsened, and it forced Amy to her knees, dropping the phone in the process, the earth shaking so hard she thought that it might break in half. And while she was brought to her hands and knees, the phone flung from her hand, the shaking suddenly stopped.
An eerie silence replaced the quaking and cracking of the ground, and it sucked up everything, even masking Amy’s own breaths.
The man appeared, and Amy recoiled from the sight. Jagged pieces of flesh hung from the skeleton marked with open sores and burnt flesh. The clothes it wore was ragged and dirty, torn with holes both large and small, which exposed more scarred and disfigured flesh over the body.
Amy couldn’t stop her trembling. “Give my daughter back.”
“Not until the curse is broken,” he said. “That is the price for your blood.” He raised a skeleton hand and then snapped his fingers.
It triggered another earthquake that split the ground and the ceiling above.
Laughter echoed as pieces of rock fell from the ceiling and crashed around Amy, forcing her backwards, away from the depths of the mine. Away from Maisie.
Amy dove backward just in time, avoiding the final avalanche as the mine shaft’s roof collapsed, flooding the narrow shaft with dust and debris.
Amy landed hard on her side, and when the rumbling of the collapse ended, she turned toward the blockade of rocks that sat between her and Maisie.
“No,” Amy whispered, then scrambled to her feet. She heaved herself against the rocks and tossed a few small ones from the pile, which didn’t even make a noticeable dent.
A large rock the size of a tire blocked her path, and Amy gripped the massive hunk of earth with both hands, her fingers barely able to find a grip. She pulled, her muscles straining, her face turning a bright red.
A throaty, hollow scream erupted from the depths of her being, but despite the battle cry and the heaving bouts of strength that she called on from her burst of adrenaline and anger, Amy collapsed in front of the immovable mountain in front of her.
The sobs came silently at first, the only signs of her crying the light tremor of her shoulders as they bobbed up and down. But then the screams came, so loud that they could have triggered another avalanche raining down on her head.
But as she screamed at the pile of rocks staring her in the face, she knew that whatever price needed to be paid to get Maisie back, and to heal Liz, she would pay. No matter the cost.
45
Three Months Ago
The fire crackled and spit embers that drifted upward, swirling around the single column of smoke that escaped through the narrow hole in the center of the hut’s roof.
The light from the flames illuminated the pictures painted onto the canvas above. Coyote, Deer, Wolf, Mountain Lion, all the ancient animals that comprised their spirit realm.
The hut was old. It hadn’t been used in over a century. It was a place of healing for the people of the Chemehuevi tribe, although recently, modern medicine had pulled their tribe away from the ancient ways. Generations had passed since a puhagante was used, but there were limits to what modern medicine could cure.
Jonathan Running Water sat with his eyes closed, forgoing the traditional dress of his ancestors, but still smearing his face with bright red and blue paints derived from the plants of the desert.
He hummed by the fire, his voice low and throaty, swaying back and forth with the songs passed down by his people through the generations.
The songs connected Running Water with the past, the present, and the future. It connected him with the land and sky, plants and animals, and the people that inhabited th
e desert. It connected him to everything he loved about his home.
A home which was under attack.
His people, his family, had exhausted every option to fight against this oppression, but they had been met with nothing but contempt and scrutiny, no matter the position of authority.
Running Water could no longer stand to the side and watch his people suffer and the world descend into madness. Unable to convince no one of the calamity to come, he now called upon the primeval spirits of his ancestors, like his predecessors had done nearly two hundred years ago.
While Running Water had been taught the songs and understood the rituals, he had never bridged the gap between this world and the spirit realm. It would take time and patience, but through his devotion, he knew he could open the door, though he couldn’t decide who was chosen to pass through.
His grandchildren weren’t as convinced.
Kara and Ben sat across from Running Water, where they had been idle for the past several hours. They shared similar features, including their dark eyes and the striking black hair that both kept long. But while Ben’s face was square, his nose broad and his brow thick, Kara’s features could have landed her on the cover of a fashion magazine.
Ben grew restless and twisted his back, his bones and muscles popping like a ream of bubble wrap. “How much longer do you think he’s going to be like that?”
“Until something speaks to him, I guess.” While Kara didn’t agree with her grandfather’s methods, she knew that the old man wasn’t tired, not like the others. But he had been strangely silent over the news of what had been happening. After all, he had raised her father to fight against injustice, a trait which had been passed on to Kara.
“It’s been forever,” Ben said, stretching out on his side.
“The spirits must be busy.” Kara kept her elbow planted in the sand as she lay on her side, watching her grandfather through the flickering flames.