Whispers in the Night

by James Hunt

  The sisters clung to one another in their sleep, and Running Water rolled toward the side, gently shaking Liz until she woke.

  Liz lifted her head from the pillow, her eyes half closed and her voice groggy. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to talk to you.” He kept his voice quiet and then glanced at Maisie. “Alone.”

  Liz nodded, and Running Water wheeled back toward the front porch while Liz attempted to sneak out of the bed without disturbing her sister.

  Outside, he thought about what he should say, how he should say it. He was unsure if the girl would require any coaxing to return to another realm where her torture would be just as painful, tasked with an impossible mission.

  Liz stepped out onto the porch, wide-eyed and alert, concern replacing fatigue. “What’s wrong?”

  “There is a way to bring your mother back,” Running Water said. “Your father is too weak to make the journey, and your sister is too young.”

  Liz was quiet for a moment, processing the old man’s words. “What do I have to do?”

  “You will have to enter the same realm as your mother did to free you and your sister,” he answered. “You must bring back water from the Lake of Spirits.”

  Liz nodded, but her face sagged with the realization of what that meant. “You’re sure it will work?”

  Running Water wanted to reassure the girl, but the path ahead held no certainty. “It’s the only thing I know to try.”

  Liz crossed her arms and then looked back to the trailer. Her gaze lingered on it for a minute, and then she turned around. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  “Go to the tent,” He said. “Talk to your father. He is awake. I’ll bring your sister back to you in a minute. Give you all some time to spend together.”

  Liz simply nodded, then walked around back.

  After she left, Running Water lingered on the porch. He still didn’t truly know if the girl would succeed, and even if she did, he did not know if his plan would work.

  But as a descendent of the great puhagante who brought on the curse, he wanted to help heal the family that he had fractured. They had played their part in helping to right the wrongs against his people. Now it was his turn to right the wrongs he had brought against the Holloway family.

  Liz sat with her father, who had gained enough strength to at least remain awake, and the pair held hands. The old man had kept his word, giving the father and daughter a moment before bringing Maisie into the tent.

  She was tired and confused, but Liz and Terry kept telling her that everything was all right, and that they’d be okay when all of this was done.

  “Don’t go, Lizzy,” Maisie said, flinging her arms around her waist.

  And while Liz was able to keep calm, her father broke down at the sight of his youngest daughter’s plea.

  “I’ll be right here,” Liz said, gently removing Maisie’s arms and holding her little hands in her own. “But there is something that you can do for me.”

  “What?” Maisie asked.

  “When I’m sleeping, I want you to keep hold of my hand. That way I’ll always know that you’re still with me. Can you do that for me?”

  Maisie nodded.

  “Good.” Liz kissed the top of Maisie’s head and whispered in her sister’s ear. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  When Liz hugged her father one last time, she whispered the same endearing response, but he still hadn’t recovered from sobbing. He only nodded and mouthed the words back at her. He squeezed her tight, and while his body was still in pain from the abuse at the hands of Mulaney and his men, he didn’t want to let go.

  It was Liz who finally broke their hold, and then she lay down next to her father on a separate mat that the young doctor had provided. The tent was still filled with the injured, but there still seemed to be more than enough space for all of them to fit neatly inside.

  The mat was cool against her back, and from her position inside the tent, she saw the first few rays of dawn pierce through the cracks in the flap at the front of the tent. And while she shivered, it wasn’t from the coolness of the ground beneath her.

  Liz laughed lightly to herself. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  Maisie appeared at her side and firmly grabbed hold of her sister’s hand. “I’m right here.”

  And while Liz smiled from her younger sister’s gesture, she was surprised to find that she no longer trembled. With Maisie holding her left hand, her father reached for her right.

  “We’re both right here.”

  Liz stifled a whimper and simply nodded as the medicine man positioned himself at the head of the matt, hovering above her in his wheelchair, holding a wooden bowl with both hands.

  “You will travel far,” Running Water said. “And you will see many things. But to find your family’s salvation, you must face what you fear.”

  He lowered the bowl to Liz’s lips and she drank until the bowl was empty. She wasn’t sure when it would hit her, or how she would tell she had entered another realm, but her heart began to race.

  There was so much more she wanted to do, so much more she wanted to say to her dad and sister, too much had gone left unsaid. But when she opened her mouth to speak, there were no words. And then the canvas above her darkened until everything transformed to black.

  Michael Night Wolf walked out onto his front porch just before dawn, the way he did every morning, piping hot mug of coffee in his left hand and his Kindle tablet in his right. He sipped from the stained rim of the white mug, scorched black from thousands of cups of coffee it had held.

  With his eyes on the Kindle, Michael navigated the well-worn path from the door to the porch rocking chair and sat down without spilling a single drop of coffee.

  The morning ritual of stories and coffee had been instituted by his late wife, which he continued even after she passed. It was his simple way to remain connected to her, even though the second rocking chair had remained empty for the better part of a year.

  He’d retired from practicing law full time and volunteered his time to cases involving people in the tribe who needed it.

  He’d thought of moving, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the reservation. He’d grown up here, became a man here, and had fought to keep what little land his people had left in their grasp.

  His house was near the front of the reservation’s entrance from the highway. In a way, he had become the community’s unofficial greeter and information hub for anyone wandering onto the reservation, either by mistake or as first timers.

  But while Michael greeted most visitors with a laid-back, friendly demeanor, he had also been gifted with the responsibility of being the watchdog. Because for every decent person that came onto the reservation, there were a dozen bad folks that wandered in after them.

  And those folks were not greeted with a friendly wave, or helpful direction. Instead he showed them the twelve-gauge he kept propped up by the front door. One pump usually did the trick to send them running.

  Most of the time it was just high school kids from town, drinking, smoking, and howling at the moon. The sound of the weapon was enough to send them back to their suburban homes with their tails between their legs and a story of the crazy, bloodthirsty Indian with a gun.

  But despite his role as first protector, Night Wolf had never enjoyed fighting. He didn’t have the taste for it. He liked reading. Taking walks.

  With the morning sun peaking higher above the eastern horizon behind him, a ray of light flashed over a windshield in the distance, catching Michael’s eye, and he immediately set the Kindle and coffee aside as he pushed himself up from the chair.

  Three black SUVs, all with tinted windows, moved quickly down the highway and then slowed as they turned toward the reservation.

  Michael had seen the vehicles before and knew they belonged to Mulaney. He rushed back inside the house and then reached for the phone, dialing Running Water.

  Phone pressed to his ear, he pulled back
the curtains as the SUVs moved closer. “Pick up, you old coot.”

  After the seventh ring, Michael set the phone down and headed for the door, picking up a box of shotgun shells from the kitchen drawer along the way. He grabbed the twelve gauge, stepped outside, and moved swiftly toward his truck parked on the far side of the house.

  He heaved the door open, set the weapon and the ammunition in the passenger seat, and then climbed inside, knowing that it would take more than the sound of the pump action on the twelve-gauge to scare off Mulaney’s men.

  The throbbing in Kara’s head had dulled while she slept, but it was the high-pitched ring of the telephone that woke her up. It blared loudly and defiantly as she struggled to get up. By the time she managed to get upright, the call ended.

  Kara cradled her head, trying to remember where she was, the events of the past few hours slowly returning to her.

  They had rescued the Holloway girls, and then pulled Terry Holloway out of Mulaney’s grasp, reuniting the family back at the rez. She was in her grandfather’s trailer, and she remembered glimpses of the escape from Mulaney’s facility, her memories fragmented from the blow to the head.

  Kara kept her eyes shut for a minute, and then stood. She took a few steps, testing her balance, and when she didn’t crash to the floor, she walked outside.

  It was still night, or early morning, she couldn’t be sure, but the air was chilly and she rubbed her arms, shivering as she walked down the ramp and onto the sand.

  “You’re up,” Ben said.

  Kara squinted at the truck and was barely able to make out Ben’s figure in the truck bed where he sat on the tailgate. She walked toward him, watching him stare out into the night. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Grandfather is in the tent with the Holloway family,” Ben said. “The oldest daughter is passing through the spirit realm. You were sleeping inside, and I didn’t want to disturb you so…” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d wait out here.”

  Kara climbed up onto the tailgate, sitting next to her brother. “It’s freezing.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said.

  Kara leaned against her brother, his shoulder warm, but he stank of smoke. She glanced at the ground and saw the cluster of cigarette butts. “I thought you stopped that.”

  Ben shrugged. “I fell off the wagon.”

  The fog of sleep nearly gone, Kara glanced up to the night sky, which was riddled with stars. “Say what you want about the hot, dry days, but you can’t beat a desert night.” She smiled, remembering all of the times that she had wandered the night as a girl. It was freeing being out in the open, alone with nothing but your thoughts. But it had been a long time since she’d walked the desert at night.

  “Grandfather has something planned,” Ben said. “I don’t know what it is yet.”

  “Of course he does,” Kara said. “He’s trying to help Amy.”

  Ben shook his head. “He’s planning on doing something stupid. I can feel it.”

  Kara was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded. “I thought he might.”

  Ben turned toward her. “What do we do?”

  Kara drew a breath, the air freezing her lungs and throat. “We trust him.” She turned to her brother, who wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “It’s the only thing we can do, Ben.”

  Ben hopped off the tailgate, crushing the cigarette butts into the sand, and crossed his arms, keeping his back to her. “I thought that you’d have something better than that.”

  Kara sighed. “It’s his choice. Just like it was our choice to go and help the family. Like it was our choice to stay on the reservation. Both of us could have left a long time ago. But we didn’t. This is our home.” She glanced up at the stars. “For better or worse.”

  Ben finally turned, tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  Kara slid off the tailgate and embraced her brother. “Hey, it’s all right. We’re not going to lose him.”

  “Yes, we are,” Ben said, squeezing her back. “Just like Mom and Dad. Just like our home. We always lose.”

  Kara leaned back, staring at her brother. “Hey. This fight is almost over. We just have to keep pushing a little further. That’s all. Remember what Dad used to say? It’s always hardest when you can see the end.”

  Ben nodded.

  Kara smiled, then looked down the dirt road that led to the paved path cutting through the reservation. “Oh my god.”

  Ben turned around at the same time and saw the same three pairs of headlights speeding toward them. The vehicles were difficult to see in the darkness, but they appeared to be SUVs.

  “Shit,” Ben said.

  Kara backpedaled toward her grandfather’s hut. “Ben, grab the rifles from the trailer. Now.” She turned, sprinting toward the hut, her head throbbing.

  Kara dove headfirst into the hut, finding Terry and Maisie by Liz and her grandfather off to the side. “We need to leave, now.” She positioned herself at Liz’s feet, grabbing the girl’s ankles.

  Terry kept hold of Liz’s hand. “What’s going on?”

  “They’re coming,” Kara answered. “Mulaney’s men.”

  Even with the dried blood and bruises, Kara saw the blood drain from Terry’s complexion.

  “We need to get her in the truck, keep her moving.” Kara waited, growing impatient as Terry remained motionless. “Now, Terry.”

  Kara and Terry lifted Liz, both struggling from their injuries, and moved as fast as they could. Kara shuffled backwards as fast as her feet allowed, almost crashing both her and Liz into the sand. She looked toward her grandfather, who still stood in the same position as she left him, watching the convoy draw nearer.

  “Keep her as still as you can,” Running Water said, finally trailing them with Maisie. “She’s in a fragile state.”

  Kara balanced Liz as she lifted the truck’s passenger door handle with a restricted left hand. She plucked it loose and then kicked the door open, sliding her inside.

  “Gently,” Running Water said.

  Ben rushed out of the trailer, rifles clutched in his hand as he headed for the driver side door. He placed one of the rifles in the truck bed and then loaded a magazine into the other. “Shit, they’re on the dirt road.”

  Finished with Liz, Kara turned back to the road, watching the SUVs kick up sand on their path toward the trailer.

  “Get Grandfather,” Kara said, reaching into the truck bed and grabbing the rifle. She winced reaching for it, then looked to Terry. “Put Maisie in the cab. You’ll have to ride in the back with me and Grandfather.”

  Kara climbed into the back of the truck as Ben carried their grandfather and laid him in the back, then folded up the chair and tossed it in. “C’mon! C’mon! C’mon!” Kara waved them on, all the while keeping her attention focused on the SUVs moving closer and closer.

  Ben started the truck, but the engine was quickly cut out by the sound of gunfire.

  Michael kept both hands on the wheel and his foot pressed firmly on the gas. His attention was on the road ahead and the lingering path of swirling sand that the SUVs had left behind. He passed four houses along the way.

  At each home he passed, Michael repeatedly laid on the horn, his driver side window rolled down, waving the shotgun to those that stepped out on their porch, his signal to saddle up.

  After he’d passed all four homes, he glanced into his rearview mirror and caught sight of the three cars trailing behind him, everyone accounted for except for Moonblood.

  Ahead, Michael was still able to see the SUVs. It was bold for these men to come onto their land so blatantly. The move was aggressive and reckless. Mulaney was desperate.

  The paved road gave way to the dirt path that led toward Running Water’s place, and the ride got bumpier. The shotgun rattled against the worn cloth bench seat, almost as if the weapon was mirroring Michael’s own trepidation of the approaching fight.

  It had been a long time since Michael had to fight like this. It had been a long time since a
ny of them had to fight like this. But Mulaney’s boldness had gone unchecked for too long, and his people were growing smaller and smaller every year.

  Less than one thousand Chemehuevi remained, and most of them were as old as Michael. But if his people were to die out, then he was going to make sure that they would go out with such an end that would be worthy of their ancestors. He would call upon the deer and the mountain and the salt of the earth and bring all of it crashing down on Mulaney’s men.

  If this was to be his last stand, then he found solace in the knowledge that he would soon see his beloved, which triggered a broad smile across the face of a man who held no fear of death but instead welcomed it with the warm embrace of a long-lost love.

  The bullets thundered louder, and Kara peeked her head above the truck bed’s walls. The grills of the SUVs were close enough for her to make out the bug splatter on the grill. It was too late to run.

  Ben must have assessed the same outcome, because he quickly turned the truck sideways, giving them more cover to escape back into the trailer.

  The lights from the SUVs’ headlights shone on them like searchlights of a hunting party, freezing their prey before they had a chance to scatter into the darkness.

  Kara and Terry were out of the truck first, and when she started to help grab Liz, Terry knocked her hands away and pointed to Maisie. “Take her!”

  Kara nodded, scooped the screaming girl into her arms, and kept low as she sprinted inside the trailer, bullets nipping at her heels on the retreat inside.

  A hail-like sound erupted inside the trailer, and Kara put Maisie behind her grandfather’s bed. “Stay here, and don’t move.” There was no time to console the girl as she headed back for the door, keeping low as the trailer’s windows were blown out, glass raining over her backside.

  When Kara reached the door, Terry barreled inside, nearly colliding into the back wall, unable to slow the momentum from his hasty retreat.

  “Put her in the bedroom!” Kara shouted above the gunfire and then peered outside, watching Ben struggle to get his grandfather from the truck bed as the SUVs created a blockade around the trailer, continuing their rapid-fire assault. “Ben!”