by James Hunt
“Just because they don’t speak to you, doesn’t mean they don’t speak to him,” Ben said, sneering at his sister.
“Hard to believe their tongues are tied with so much at stake.” Kara pinched some sand between her thumb and forefinger, then let it sift between her fingertips like time from an hourglass. She understood her grandfather’s reasoning to try the old ways, but she had her doubts. Ben did too, though he had always been more of a kiss ass. “We need to do something that actually works.”
“We tried everyone, Kara,” Ben said. “The police. The state legislature, congressmen, the senator’s office, and the state attorney general. No one has lifted a finger! And that’s not going to change, no matter how many doors we knock on.”
And it wasn’t just the authorities that she had tried to contact. Every local news station, paper, and media outlet had barely scraped together enough words for her efforts to make a headline. With everything else happening in the world, the plights of some small, indigenous tribe in the middle of nowhere were too trivial.
Kara leaned toward her brother. He was older, but not wiser. And what he lacked in brains, he made up for in brawn. “I’m not talking about knocking on doors anymore. I’m talking about breaking them down.” She pushed herself up from her side and leaned into him. “Mulaney and his people have been playing dirty, and it’s time we do the same. It’s the only way we’re going to get any traction. It’s the only way to stop this.”
Ben glanced to their grandfather, who still hummed in that dreamlike trance that he’d fallen into for the past hour. He scrunched his face, wrinkling his nose the way their father had done when he was thinking too hard.
“Ben, it’s what our parents would have done,” Kara said. “Hell, it’s what our parents did.”
Ben shied away. “Mom and Dad died a long time ago, Kara. This has nothing to do with them.”
“It has everything to do with them.” Kara grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him back toward herself. “If it weren’t for them, then the reservation would have shrunk to half its size when we were kids. But they fought for what belonged to our people. And we must fight to protect what they gave us!”
Ben yanked his arm free. “Mom and Dad died in a car accident. It didn’t have anything to do with that legal fight.” He gestured to their grandfather. “Besides, it was the tribal board that ended that case.”
“Because Mom and Dad forced them to fight back,” Kara said. “Sometimes I can’t believe you and I come from the same people.”
“Don’t get upset with me just because your plans haven’t worked,” Ben said, growing more defensive. “It’s not my fault no one will believe us.”
Kara dismissively waved her hand, and then leaned back down on her elbow. It was maddening. One person was about to end the lives of an entire community and kill thousands more around the world.
Kara gazed into the fire, the flames reflecting in her dark brown eyes, stoking the anger until her blood simmered with rage. “We have to do something.” She flicked her eyes toward her grandfather, failing to understand why he hadn’t done more. Why he hadn’t used any of his political persuasion with the tribal leaders.
While her grandfather’s trade was considered “outdated,” his voice carried a heavy weight with the tribal council. But Kara suspected that even if her grandfather did try and convince the council to do more, their efforts would be fruitless. They were old men who had fought for so long that they were worn down by the countless battles that they had engaged in.
They’d won, they’d lost, they were tired.
But Kara wasn’t tired. That fire her grandfather sat on the other side of might as well have been the burning in her own belly. The chip on her shoulder had been placed there by everyone who had put her people down, by the doors slammed in her face, and the apathy that was the greatest enemy for anyone trying to drive change.
Her people had been born from the desert sands, formed by and brought to life by the very lands that surrounded them. But as hardy as they were, they couldn’t survive what Mulaney was about to unleash from the Earth.
The land where the mine currently resided had been disputed by her tribe since it was taken by miners during the gold rush. And while their ancestors had fought to keep the land, they were overpowered by money and muscle.
And so the Chemehuevi people turned to one of their most powerful leaders, the tribe’s puhagante. A medicine man who had deep-rooted connections to the spirit realms and the creators of life.
To help bring vengeance to the people that took their land, the puhagante called upon the first spirits, as Kara’s grandfather did now. And through their power, they enacted a terrible curse onto the land, entombing the miners to an eternity of suffering.
Ever since then, anyone who extracted gold from the mine was entombed with the rest of the dead. And anyone who came in contact with the gold, should it be removed from the earth, would fall deathly ill.
Despite the curse and the calamity that followed, there had been other attempts to open the mine in the past, and each time catastrophic loss had forced those that opened it to close their doors.
People had tried to rationalize what happened, but while the scientific community could never explain the events, they refused to acknowledge the truth of the curse.
If Mulaney had his way, then it would only bring upon more death, more suffering. That’s what Kara and her family were trying to stop.
Running Water opened his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.
Kara and Ben rushed to their grandfather, flanking him on either side.
“Grandfather, are you all right?” Ben asked, his voice that of a frightened child.
Running Water kept his gaze straight ahead. “She will come.”
“Who?” Kara asked.
Sweat glistened off Running Water’s face and neck. “A woman not of this land. She will be tied to this place, as we are. She will be meant to suffer, as we have suffered.”
Ben and Kara exchanged a glance.
The fire reflected in Running Water’s eyes. “To save our people, she will save her family. We must guide her to the realm of our ancestors. Her blood has been granted the power to pass through the realm. It will be the only way to stop this evil from spreading.”
Kara carefully grabbed her grandfather’s shoulder, afraid she might harm him if he should suddenly be pulled from his trance.
Running Water slowly turned toward Kara. “She will seek you out. You must lead her, Kara. You must bring her to me when the time is right.”
And before Kara could ask any more questions, the fire erupted, shooting high into the canvas tent, swirling embers through the air, the flames spinning and tightening into a vortex until the fire vanished into thin air, leaving only the traces of smoke behind.
Running Water collapsed the moment the fire went out, and both Kara and Ben caught him in their arms.
“Grandfather?” Ben asked, gently shaking the old man, who slowly awoke.
Kara leaned closer. “Grandfather, I don’t understand… who is this woman?”
Running Water pushed himself to a sitting position and caught his breath. “Help me into my chair.”
Ben lifted his grandfather into the wheelchair where he had spent most of his elderly years. He had been in the car when their parents had died. And while he escaped with his life, it had come at a cost. He had always said that he lost the use of his legs because Kara and Ben’s parents needed them to enter the spirit realm. Ben thought it was a nice sentiment. Kara had thought it was just an old man’s way of coming to terms with the death of a child.
Running Water wiped the sweat from his brow and then glanced up to the paintings that decorated the ceiling. “I saw all of it.” He spoke with a sense of child-like wonderment. “The spirit realm. The ancestors.” He lowered his eyes. “They told me that it is time.”
“Time for what?” Ben asked.
Even though Ben had asked the question, their grandfather looked
to Kara when he spoke. “Long ago, our people brought forth a terrible evil in this world. And now the spirits have summoned a life to return balance to our land.” He lifted his eyes back toward the ceiling, again speaking of the woman with no name, no face. “We cannot allow her to fail.”
46
Present Day
Amy Holloway turned her head away, lifting her arms to protect herself from the collapse of the mine’s ceiling. She stumbled backward, avoiding the debris and dust that flooded through the narrow shaft, which had transformed into a wind tunnel.
In the silence after the collapse, Amy opened her eyes, then smeared the soot and dirt that covered her face, coughing as she stood.
“Maisie?” Amy stepped toward the pile of rocks that blocked the path between herself and her daughter. She extended her arm, touching one of the larger rocks as though it were scorching hot, and then quickly withdrew her hand. “No.”
Overwhelmed with panic, Amy impotently tugged at the avalanche of rocks. They were too big to move and too numerous to count, but still she persisted. She was waiting on that hulking strength that was given to mothers when their child was in danger, the kind of strength that could lift cars and move mountains. But despite the rage and fear pumping through her veins, she could barely move even the smallest of rocks.
“Maisie!” Amy screamed, pounding the rocks with her fists when she realized that she couldn’t move them anymore. She heaved her chest up and down with each breath until the reality of the situation sank in. Her daughter had been taken. And she knew of a woman who might know how to bring her back. “Kara.”
Amy back-pedaled toward the elevator that would take her back to the surface. “I’ll come back for you, Maisie. I promise!” She didn’t know if her daughter could hear her, but she needed to say it out loud. For her own sanity.
Amy paced the elevator’s cage like a tiger on the way up, muttering curses between every breath until she reached the surface. She sprinted out of the cage like a bat out of hell and burst from the darkness and into the sunlight, squinting from the blinding brightness.
Halfway down the street, her left calf cramped and slowed her to a hobbled jog. “Kara!” Amy spied the woman near Ghost Town’s entrance, and the panicked cry caused her to turn quickly, rushing toward the distressed mother and meeting her in the middle of the dirt road.
“What happened?” Kara asked.
Amy lunged forward, clinging to Kara to help keep her upright. “The miner. He took her.”
Kara glanced past Amy and toward the mine’s entrance. “He was right.”
Amy pulled Kara’s attention back to her. “How do I bring her back?”
Kara nodded and then led her toward the town’s exit. “I know someone who can help.”
Whatever normal instincts that Amy may have relied on in such times of crisis were thrown out the window. Because while she wouldn’t have normally followed a woman she barely knew to a place she’d never been, these were improbable circumstances.
Right now Amy was grasping at straws in the dark, fumbling to try and understand what was happening, so she let herself believe this woman. Kara had been right about everything so far. There was no reason to doubt her now.
Before they reached the truck that Kara climbed into, Amy saw that the rest of the protestors had already left.
“We’ll need to hurry,” Kara said. “We don’t have much time until—”
Two black SUVs with tinted windows pulled toward Ghost Town’s entrance, blocking Kara’s truck from leaving.
Several men stepped from the vehicles, all of them dressed in the same suit and tie, sporting sunglasses, save for the man whose door was opened for him. “Mrs. Holloway, are you all right?”
Amy frowned. “Do I know you?”
The man held up his hands apologetically. “I’m Douglas Mulaney. I’m working with your husband to get the mine reopened, and—”
With Amy’s attention focused on Mulaney, neither she or Mulaney saw Kara’s fist speed into the side of his face, knocking the man to the ground before she was swarmed by Mulaney’s security detail.
“You son of a bitch!” Kara thrashed wildly against the security guard’s arms, but while her fight was spirited, it did little against the strength of the men holding her hostage.
Mulaney pushed himself off the ground, his hand covering his bloodied lip. “Get her out of here! Have the police take her to jail.” The guards dragged Kara off, kicking and screaming, leaving him and Amy alone. “Are you okay?”
Amy watched Kara continue to fight as she was dragged away, refusing to give up an inch even after all hope was lost.
“Mrs. Holloway, I know—”
“I need to leave,” Amy said, snapping out of her daze and stepping away from Mulaney.
“Mrs. Holloway, I can help,” Mulaney said.
“My daughter is sick.” Amy spit the words out quickly. “I need to be with my family.” She quickly turned before Mulaney could ensnare her any further. She caught one last glance at Kara as she was cuffed and slammed against one of the black SUVs. She and Kara locked eyes for only a moment, and Amy mouthed “I’ll come for you” before she turned away.
Amy headed toward the hotel lobby, moving quickly, but forcing herself not to break into a sprint and draw even more attention to herself than necessary. She didn’t want that man following her, and she needed to get to Kara as quick as possible.
On the way to her room, Amy dialed her husband, the plastic casing around the phone creaking from her tight grip as the phone rang.
“Hi, you’ve reached Terry Hollowa—”
Amy hung up, and the elevator doors opened to the top floor and she hurried toward her room. She dialed another number, this time getting an answer.
“Thank you for calling St. Mary’s—”
“My daughter was taken to your hospital, and I was wondering if she had been admitted yet?” Amy asked, speaking quickly. “Her name is Elizabeth Holloway.”
In a polite but assertive tone, the nurse replied, “One moment please.”
The seconds dragged while Amy grabbed the van’s keys and then sprinted back down to the lobby, using the stairs instead of the elevator.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse finally replied. “But she hasn’t arrived yet. I can—”
Amy hung up and fumbled the van’s keys to the dirt as she tried to unlock the door. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but she steadied her hands long enough to get the door open and insert the key into the ignition.
She tried Terry one more time, but again it went to voicemail. She drove toward Ghost Town’s exit where she saw Kara being placed into the back of a squad car and Mulaney’s security team speaking to the police. And then she followed the police cruiser down the highway, hoping the woman in handcuffs could help save both her daughters from whatever the hell was going on.
47
The ambulance doors flung open and the paramedics spilled out the back, carrying Liz on the stretcher, who had finally stopped her seizures but remained unresponsive.
Terry followed close behind, only able to catch glimpses of his daughter between the shoulders of the medical crew wheeling her into the emergency room.
“I’ve got a fifteen-year-old female bleeding from eyes, ears, and nose, along with intermittent seizures,” the paramedic answered.
A doctor nodded, walking in the same brisk pace as the paramedics. “Vitals?”
“Normal.”
Terry followed the team into the room and watched them lift his motionless daughter’s body from the stretcher and onto the bed.
A team of nurses immediately went to work, removing Liz’s clothes and hooking her up to an array of machines that beeped to life.
Terry stood off to the side, helpless, unsure of how he was supposed to help until a nurse walked up to him and shoved a clipboard in his chest.
“We need you to fill out your daughter’s medical history,” she said, her words efficient. “You can do that out in the waiting roo
m while we run some tests.”
Terry shook his head. “I’m not leaving my daughter—”
The nurse held up a hand. “Sir, you need to let us do our job. The best way for you to help is to fill this out.” She extended her arm, pointing toward the exit. “Please.”
Terry tossed one final glance back at his daughter, but then nodded, sheepishly walking out of the room while the medical staff continued their efforts with Liz.
Terry fell into the chair in the hallway. After so much hurried movement, so much chaos in a short amount of time, he had finally run out of steam. He stared down at the paperwork in his hands, the words more like hieroglyphics than English.
But, slowly, he put pen to paper and muddled his way through the paperwork. He made it through the first page of the form, then the second, and halfway through the third, flashbacks of Amy’s accident assaulted his memory, and he had to grip the chair’s armrest to keep himself upright. How could this be happening again? How could his family endure so much? Hadn’t they suffered enough?
Terry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he reached for it quickly. “Amy?”
“Maisie’s gone,” Amy answered.
Terry was quiet for a moment, but his shock quickly dissipated into worry. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“It’s the mine, Terry! The curse. Liz touched the gold, so did Maisie.”
Terry bowed his head, his mouth agape. “What do—” He shut his eyes. “Amy, what are you talking about?” He stood, setting the clipboard down and paced aimlessly. “What happened?”
“Just stay with Liz and keep me updated,” Amy answered.
Terry shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. “Did you call the police?”
“The police can’t help us,” Amy answered. “I’ll let you know when I know more.”
“Amy—”
The call ended. Terry immediately called her back. Voicemail.
“Fuck!” Terry flung the phone into a nearby chair, and it ricocheted off and hit the floor. He paced angrily, and he was suddenly transported back in time. Three months ago the state troopers had called him, notifying him that his wife and two daughters had been involved in a car accident, and all three of them were being rushed to Boulder General.