Señor Zack raised the rifle in his hand, aimed it at the giant. Santa Tomasa turned to him, lifted her hand and spoke words that Jesus couldn't hear.
As the giant glared at Señor Zack, it underwent a change. Its face became scaly, lizard-like, its nose lengthened into a snout, fangs emerged, red eyes glowed, arms turned to thin muscled appendages with claws, a greenish prehensile tail twitched. Its head was large, domed, the forehead high like a human's, its neck thick. In those red eyes Jesus saw anger, hate...and intelligence.
His glimpse of this monster was momentary. The apparition changed back in an instant, once again the huge Indian. The metamorphosis was so fast Jesus wasn't sure what he had seen. He watched in shock as it slung the gringo over its shoulder, stepped off the porch, and with one long leap disappeared into the darkness beyond the cabin.
* * * * *
Zack stopped his headlong rush when Barnard turned his gun on him. He had accomplished his purpose––to draw Barnard's attention away from the others. Barnard gave a small smile of satisfaction. Eagle Feather had given up his advantage to save Tomasa, now Zack had given up his to save Eagle Feather. The odds had changed in moments.
Zack's face must have mirrored his surprise when he saw the Indian. Barnard's smile vanished; he tried to turn his head––too late. A huge hand covered his face from behind, lifted his body off the ground. With deliberate precision, the Indian opened Barnard's abdomen with a great knife, as one would butcher a hog. Barnard's gun, now an afterthought, dropped to the porch floor. His eyes stared over the hand that held him, met Zack's with a look of bewilderment.
Zack raised his rifle. When he did, the Indian changed, and Zack saw the true monster within reveal itself at the threat. In those hostile red eyes he read intent, he knew he could not defeat it.
Tomasa's voice came to him, soothing, calm. "Put down your rifle, Zack. I will not let him harm you."
Zack did as she instructed.
At her voice the reptilian humanoid creature transformed back to the giant Indian. It lifted Barnard over its shoulder like a sack of potatoes, stepped off the porch. In a moment it was gone. The only trace left of Barnard was a pool of blood on the wood boards of the porch.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Zack ran to Eagle Feather. Tomasa had his head in her lap. The front of Eagle Feather's shirt was red with blood.
Zack knelt next to him, opened his shirt, cut away his undershirt. A small round hole bubbled red on the left side of his chest. Eagle Feather's eyes were closed; his breathing seemed regular.
"You've ruined one of your best shirts, my friend" Zack said, in a low voice. He spoke to Tomasa. "We've got to get him to a hospital."
"He will heal," she said.
Zack looked at the rental car. A hole gaped in the radiator, fluid dripped to the grass. "We won't be going anywhere in that car." He remembered Jorge's truck. "Stay with him, please," he said to Tomasa. "I'll go get the truck."
"Your friend will heal," Tomasa said again.
Her insistent confidence soothed Zack. "I hope so." He ran across the lawn, down the drive. It was farther than he remembered. Nearly dark, the roadway had become a tunnel beneath a roof of fused atramental branches. Zack stumbled once where the drive was uneven, nearly fell. Ahead he saw the outline of the pickup truck, both doors open like wings. The key was in the ignition, the truck started without hesitation. Zack reversed the truck into a K turn, let the doors slam shut, drove around the body of the man he killed and back up the road.
He drove out of the trees, into the clearing. The cabin wasn't there. The lawn, his friends, the car were all gone. In their place was a lush green forest, well-spaced trees as in an English wood, green carpet-like grass underfoot. A well-worn dirt path led into the wood, wildflowers bloomed in bright patches, squirrels darted from tree to tree, birds sang, a doe grazed. The sun, filtered through leafy branches, was bright, the patches of sky above deep blue.
Zack stopped the truck and stepped out, his jaw slack with amazement. He stepped onto the dirt path. As he did, the truck disappeared, the forest closed in around him. It was as if he had stepped into a painting.
The deer looked up, ears alert, peered down the path. The squirrels sat up expectantly, the bird songs swelled into a chorus. A large buck came to stand by the doe. The animals all looked up the path.
Something moved among the trees, a form approached. A glow suffused it, radiated an aura around it. The figure's movement was effortless, graceful as a wild creature. The figure drew close. Zack saw an Indian maiden: young, beautiful. A bird perched in her hand, a spotted fawn followed close behind. Her chestnut hair, parted in the middle, was done in long braids that draped across her shoulders and fell to the waist of her ornamented buckskin dress.
She drew near. Zack saw her features clearly now, the soft smile, pool-like brown eyes full of kindness. This vision, this beautiful Indian maiden––was Tomasa. The animals came to her. The warmth of her countenance expressed tangible love for each of them. She raised her eyes to Zack.
"Go in peace," she said. "Leave my forest as you found it, a balance of all things, evil and good, old and new, magical and ordinary." She spread her arms wide. "This place has always been so and always will be. Evil men come. They upset the balance; the Protector restores it. It is as it should be, for the spirits of my ancestors dwell here."
Tomasa began to disappear, the forest and its creatures with her, as an old photograph fades. She raised her eyes to Zack and smiled. "Do not fear for your friend, his wound will heal." In a moment the magical forest, and all within it, was gone as if it had never been.
The cabin, the car, and his friends returned.
They placed Eagle Feather gently in the bed of the truck, on a nest of clothing. Jesus and Susan climbed in next to him, supported him. Zack drove away from Zaca Lake.
* * * * *
"I don't understand it." Dr. Benedict Peabody, the thoracic surgeon, shook his head. "When admitted, he had an open pneumothorax, difficulty breathing. We suspected pericardial tamponade––he exhibited muffled heart tones, distended veins in his neck, and hypotension. We dressed the pneumothorax wound, performed a pericardiocentesis, gave him fluids, and rushed him right into the OR. We found the bullet inside the wall of the bronchus, and bleeding wounds on the anterior and posterior walls of the left pulmonary artery. We removed the bullet, then I prepared to stitch the bleeding wounds on the pulmonary artery, but...I couldn't find them. There was no sign of damage, as if the wounds had never been there. I've never seen anything like it. Even the entry wound was partially closed, as if healed––in twenty minutes, during surgery. It's as if we'd rolled in the wrong patient. Give me a break. This doesn't happen." He shook his head again. "Does your friend have some sort of special powers?"
Zack grew impatient. "Doc, you haven't told me what I need to know yet. Will he be alright?"
"Will he be alright?" Dr. Peabody gave a humorless laugh. "He's already alright. Once he awakens, he'll need some rest, but I see no reason why he can't walk out of here in twenty-four hours."
Sergeant Montana was waiting for Zack outside the recovery room. After Zack called him from the ambulance, he sent investigators over to Zaca Lake Retreat. They found the bodies of the four Mexican nationals, but not Barnard.
Zack and Montana walked to the small waiting room nearby to talk. The sergeant turned a chair around, faced Zack. "Tell me what happened to Sheriff Barnard."
Zack wasn't very helpful. "He was there, he shot Eagle Feather, used Susan as a body shield, then pushed her away and went off the far side of the porch. At that moment, my attention was on Eagle Feather."
Montana looked thoughtful. Susan and Jesus had already told him versions of the same story, Zack knew. Susan told of being thrust forward down the steps. She tried to save herself with her bound hands, ended up bruised and slightly concussed. She had no idea what happened to Barnard after he pushed her. As for Jesus, he was on the ground where he had fallen. His focus was on Tomasa and
Eagle Feather. He didn't see where Barnard had gone.
"Where can I find this Tomasa?"
"She's a Chumash woman. I never learned where she lived. You might inquire at the reservation."
Montana nodded. "My men will continue the search for Sheriff Barnard. It seems most likely he sustained a bullet wound in the exchange and ran. If he's out there, we'll find him." He inclined his head toward Zack. "From what Rick Malden had to say, it seems Barnard had a fairly sophisticated operation going on right under our noses."
Zack was surprised. "You spoke to Malden?"
It seemed Malden had gone to Montana after he had tried to reach Zack and Eagle Feather, without success. Worried they might be in danger, he told Montana that Dom had tried to kill the Zack and Eagle Feather. Although reluctant to believe it, Sergeant Montana did some quick checks, including Dom's bank account. He was now ready to accept the fact that Dom had been dirty.
He listened to Zack tell the full story of the kidnapping and shootout. When Zack finished, he shook his head slowly. "I've known Barnard professionally and personally for years. He always went above and beyond in his service to the town of Santa Lupita. That town was his life. I just don't understand it."
"He told me he entered into the drug conspiracy for that exact reason; to assist his city, keep it safe during a time of crises," Zack said. "He seemed to think the end justified the means."
Montana stood. "It all got way out of hand. Next thing you know, it's kidnapping and attempted manslaughter. I just didn't think he had it in him." He began to walk away, turned back. "This investigation is far from over. I'm missing two bodies, and at least one killer. I'd like you to stay in town for the next couple of days."
Zack nodded. "I figured."
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Rufus Reyes came for Jesus at the hospital. Jesus was happy to see him; the hospital did not hold pleasant memories.
The police sergeant had interviewed him, asked many questions. He didn't seem satisfied with Jesus' answers. At last he had called Señor Reyes. He told Jesus to wait in the lobby.
Jesus was surprised to find Candida waiting in Señor Reyes' truck.
"Don Rufus asked me to interpret for him," she said, and gave Jesus a bright smile. "I wanted to see you before you went home."
"Home?"
"Yes, Don Rufus has booked your flight. We are on our way to the airport now."
Señor Reyes started the truck. "I can't seem to keep you out of trouble, young man. I'm gonna take you right to the airport this time and put you on the plane myself."
Candida gestured to the back of the truck. "He has packed all your belongings. You'll be home with your wife and daughters today."
It seemed impossible to Jesus. Even now he didn't dare believe it, after all that happened. "But the policeman? He was not happy with me. He will let me go?"
"He is satisfied," Señor Reyes said through Candida. "He does not believe you were responsible for any crimes. He spoke with Immigration. They are willing to consider this a deportation. That is how it will appear on record."
Still, Jesus did not dare to hope. He looked at Candida. "What will you do?"
She glanced at Señor Reyes before she replied. "Don Rufus has asked me to take Jorge’s job as superintendent. I told him I would."
Another surprise. Jesus stared at her. "But, you are a..."
"A woman? Yes, it is unusual. Don Rufus wants to make many changes. He feels that a woman boss will be sure to look out for the safety and rights of all women."
Señor Reyes spoke. Candida interpreted. "He says he wants his farm to become a model for all farms that employ immigrant workers. He thinks when other farms see how he can help his workers and still be profitable, they will copy his methods."
"That is a wonderful thing," Jesus said. "For you as well, for you will be part of it. I am very happy for you."
They arrived at the Santa Maria Airport, parked in the lot. They all walked into the terminal together. Don Rufus helped him check his bag. He explained to Jesus he would change planes in Los Angeles, again in Mexico City. He handed him his ticket.
Only now did Jesus believe that he was truly on his way home.
They walked together to security. Candida gave him a long hug. When she stepped back, Señor Reyes gave Jesus a small satchel.
"For the trip," he said. He patted Jesus on the shoulder.
Jesus watched them walk away.
In the plane, Jesus stowed the satchel under the seat in front of him. When the seatbelt sign was off, he picked it up, looked in it. He found a clean shirt and pants. There was a small cosmetic bag with toothpaste and toothbrush, deodorant, and items he could use to clean up during the layover at Los Angeles. There was a check. Jesus stared at it. It was for more money than he had ever had at one time. When converted to pesos, it would last him and his family for several years, maybe even more, if he invested wisely.
Jesus watched the golden hills crawl by far below. What an amazing, magical land, this America.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TW0
Thirty-six hours later Eagle Feather felt well enough to join Zack and Susan for a visit with Paula Sanchez at the Chumash Reservation. Dr. Peabody had released Eagle Feather from the hospital the day after surgery. By then the entrance wound looked like the two-year-old bullet wound scar on Zack's shoulder.
"I heal quickly," was Eagle Feather's only comment.
Zack had a different vehicle, a Jeep this time. Luke Forrester, his boss back in Tuba City was not happy to see the size of the repair bill the rental company had presented him. The Jeep came from the FBI fleet in Santa Maria where they did their own repairs.
Paula told Zack on the phone to come on down her road, now that he knew the way. Rebecca, it seemed, was having a busy day in the public relations office. When they arrived, Paula invited them into the house and steered them to her living room. She had iced tea and a plate of cookies for them.
When introductions were complete and everyone had their drink, Paula waved them to chairs. She cocked an eyebrow at Zack. "Well, Cowboy, you certainly did stir things up."
Zack gave her an embarrassed grin.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm mighty pleased. Now that the conspiracy between the sheriff and the drug cartels is destroyed, we look forward to less crime and more peace in those forests." She looked at Zack with admiration. "You held on like a pit bull on a bear to get it done. Congratulations."
Zack chuckled. "I had to, Eagle Feather was on my case the whole time."
"White Man here needs a nudge to get him goin'."
Paula turned to Eagle Feather. "How's that wound? From what I heard, you shouldn't even be out of bed yet."
"Just fine."
Zack turned to Paula. "That brings up a subject we'd like to discuss with you. We feel some spiritual influence might have effected Eagle Feather's healing."
"How so?"
"Well, we think..." Zack interrupted himself, his eye on the wall opposite him, above Paula's head. He stood, walked over for a closer look at a photograph hanging there. It was a group of people in an impromptu portrait at an outing of some sort. It might have been a family, a mix of ages and genders. He pointed to the photo. "What is this?"
Paula's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why, that's my sister's family on a picnic at Lake Cachuma."
"When was it taken?"
"Oh, maybe twenty years ago now." Paula studied Zack. "Why?"
"Who is that?"
Paula rose from her chair for a better look. "That's my niece. She died a year after that picture was taken, in an automobile accident." Paula shook her head. "A real tomboy, that one. Always roaming the woods, from the time she was a little girl. Loved it." Paula's eyes filmed over. "Now you've gone and done it, Cowboy. Why on earth did you ask about her?"
"What's her name?"
"Why, her name is Tomasa, but we all called her Tommy, 'cause she was such a tomboy."
There was stunned silence in the room.
Paula looked around
in surprise. "What?"
"Paula, when we last met you thought it wise to send someone with me to represent the tribe while I was in the mountains. Who did you send?"
"To be honest, Cowboy, I forgot to send anyone."
Zack took Paula gently by the arm, led her back to her seat. "Sit down. We've got a story to tell you."
For the next hour Zack, Susan and Eagle Feather told all that had happened to them. Each contributed to the fabric of the tale from his or her particular perspective, right up to Eagle Feather's miraculous healing. Eagle Feather even opened his shirt to show the angry pucker of the entry wound in his chest.
Paula sat back in her chair through it all, overwhelmed. "I always felt there was truth to the legends. I just never thought..." She lapsed into silence.
"You just never thought your niece might end up as part of the legend," Susan said gently.
Paula nodded.
"She may be a reincarnation of the original," Eagle Feather suggested.
Susan was excited. "We know the girl of the legend died, or I should say was sent to the Upper World at a young age. It may be that each reincarnation of her spirit is destined to repeat the experience."
"She seems trapped between the Middle World and the Upper World," Eagle Feather said.
"It's a good thing." Zack glanced at Paula. "She balances the hostility of the other character out there with her gentleness."
"Tell me more about that one," Paula said. "You call him the Protector?"
"That's what Tommy called him. We called him the Hunter, because of the way he hunts and dresses out his prey."
"He kills, you say. Spirits don't generally kill."
"He's no spirit," Susan said.
"I don't understand."
"We believe he's another species of human, but he appears as a spirit." Zack saw the puzzlement on Paula’s face. "I know this is a lot all at once. You accept the legend of the Indian maiden, so you're half way there."
ZACA (Zack Tolliver FBI) Page 22