Sentinel - Progression Series 10 Pilgrimage Part 1

by Beth Manz

  “Well, like I said before, it is dangerous work."

  "But not all the time, right?"

  "No, not all the time. There are some cases that don't involve much more than a few phone calls or a couple field interviews." Blair leaned over and lifted his eyebrows conspiratorially. "And there's always the paperwork." He spread his arms as wide as the limited space within the vehicle would allow. "Lots and lots of paperwork."

  Andrew laughed at that. "Still, I'd love to be a cop." His face clouded over. "But I just know my dad would never hear of it."

  Suddenly, Blair understood the reason Andrew was one of the students having to make this extra-credit trip. "I guess your desire to be a cop explains your lackluster grades in anthropology, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Andrew said softly, “kind of does.” He glanced over at Blair briefly. "I wish I could be somewhere else, doing something else. I mean, I graduate in two years and I’m no closer to figuring out what my major should be than I was when I entered college. I'm not interested in anthropology or physics or any of those other stupid classes I have to take." He reddened suddenly and shot Blair an apologetic look. "No offense, Dr. Sandburg…."

  Blair held up a hand to halt his words. "None taken. Listen, Andrew. If you're really interested in police work, why don't you let me arrange a ride-along for you and your dad. I could even take the two of you over to the academy and give you a tour. And there are loads of reports and statistics I can give you on the risk involved in police work. Your dad might be surprised to find out that many cops go through their entire careers without ever having to fire their weapon at all."

  "Really?" A hopeful look shone in Andrew’s eyes.

  “Really. Tell you what--when we get back to Cascade, you talk with your dad and ask him to call me. I'll arrange for him to meet Jim, even our captain if he wants to."

  “You would do that for me?” Andrew asked excitedly.

  “I'd be happy to.”

  “That would be so cool, Dr. Sandburg. I would really appreciate it.”

  "You think your dad will go for it?"

  "It'll be a hard sell, but I'm gonna give it my best shot."

  "Good for you," Blair smiled. "Of course," he drawled knowingly, "pulling your grades up for the rest of the semester couldn't hurt--might soften him up a bit…." He glanced at Andrew out of the corner of his eye.

  "Yeah, yeah, all right," the student chuckled. "I get what you're saying." He looked over at Blair. "I'll work especially hard on this extra credit project."

  "Good man!" Blair enthused, reaching over and slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

  Sandburg turned his attention back to the map before him. They’d only traveled a few miles, still had several hours to go before they had to locate Route 9, but he wanted to make sure they didn’t get lost. Not only did he not want to lose valuable time having to backtrack, but he also did not want to give Jim any additional ammunition about his lack of navigational skills.

  “Professor?”

  Blair glanced over his shoulder at Peter Meade, who sat behind Andrew. “What is it, Pete?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in question when the younger man didn’t continue.

  “I know we’ve all turned in a subject for the paper we’re going to write on this trip…but I wonder if I could change my mind…."

  Blair shrugged. "As long as your research is relevant and your paper is well-written, I don't see why Dr. Stoddard would mind you changing your subject matter. Why?"

  "Well, I was just reading the brochure Dr. Stoddard gave us--the one regarding the reservation we’re going to visit. It says in here that the tribe has a shaman.”

  A shaman… A small, unexpected feeling of hesitancy shot through Blair, making him uncomfortable. He couldn't really put his finger on the reason for the feeling, but that fact only added to his uneasiness. He pushed the feelings away as quickly as they came. “Did it?" he responded to Peter's statement. "I hadn’t read that.”

  "Do you think Dr. Stoddard would mind if I wrote about the shaman instead?"

  "As long as your research centers on the societal and cultural importance of the shaman to the tribe, I'm sure he'd be in favor of it."

  "Awesome," Peter offered enthusiastically as he looked down at the brochure.

  Blair turned his attention back to the road before them. He was still taken a bit off guard by the fact that the tribe had a practicing shaman, though he shouldn't have been--tribes still living on reservations maintained many of their ancient ritualistic governmental and religious practices. No, it wasn't so much the fact that the tribe they would be visiting had a shaman--it was his reaction to the information that had him puzzled. To think that he might actually come face to face with a practicing shaman…. The thought made him distinctly uneasy, and some of his enthusiasm for their trip drained away.

  “I didn't think shamans even existed anymore," Peter was adding from the back seat, his head still bowed over the suddenly interesting brochure.

  "I’m not surprised,” Blair answered finally, knowing Pete was expecting some sort of comment from him. “The fact that the tribe lives on a reservation means its society is still pretty nuclear, despite increasing outside influences. I think we'll find that they hold onto a great many of their traditional beliefs and practices.”

  "Still…." Pete drawled out, awe evident in his tone, "a real shaman! I’ve read about them, about the things they’re supposed to be able to do…." His voice trailed off, then he pinned Blair with a curious glance. "Do you think they really have special powers or is that just a big joke?"

  Blair shook his head, strangely wanting nothing more to do with this conversation. But his first responsibility was to Pete--a student asking the advice of a professor. Pushing his own personal misgivings to the side, Blair answered, "I'm not sure. I've never really studied it out. I know some of the powers they're supposed to have, but as for them being real.…"

  His ambiguous answer seemed to satisfy Pete, who went back to studying the material before him. Blair turned in his seat again and stared out at the road and the obscure shapes of the cloud-shrouded mountain range in the distance. He closed his eyes as a vision of Incacha invaded his mind--the Chopec shaman lying on the couch in the loft, his bloody hand clutched desperately around Blair’s forearm.

  He passes on the way of the shaman to you…

  Blair pursed his lips, exhaled silently at the sound of Jim's voice in his head, at the memory of the surprise that had been evident in Jim's expression…at the unbridled fear in the sentinel's eyes.

  He passes on the way of the shaman to you…

  Blair shook his head, pushing Jim's voice and the images of the dying Chopec to the back of his mind. He hadn’t thought about that moment at the loft…about what it meant to him…for a long time now.

  “.…an interview, Dr. Sandburg?”

  Blair frowned, glancing back at Pete again. “I’m sorry, Pete. What did you say?”

  “I was wondering if you thought I could get an actual interview...you know, with the shaman.”

  Beside him, Stan laughed then reached over and slapped Peter on the arm. “Pete just wants to see if the guy can give him a love potion so he can get a few dates.”

  “Hey, sounds like a good idea to me,” Andrew added from the front seat, "maybe I'll change my subject, too!"

  Blair smiled at the students, his previous fears evaporating at the sudden change in mood within the truck. “Well, I doubt he’ll be passing out love potions, but if you really want to talk to the shaman, I’ll try and arrange it for you once we get there.”

  “That’d be great!”

  “But Pete," Blair warned, becoming serious, "if I do arrange this meeting, you have to remember to show respect for the shaman's beliefs, even if you find them hard to believe or you don’t agree with them.”

  “Sure. I can do that."

  "I'm counting on it."

  Pete frowned. "Hey, aren’t you going to be there too?”

  “No, I’m more i
nterested in talking with the tribal leader regarding cultural changes. You're on your own with the shaman." He gave Pete a wry smile. "So be sure you behave yourself and don't make him angry. You know, just in case he does have special powers we don't know about."

  Peter smiled, rolled his eyes, then went back to his reading.

  Again, Blair turned his attention to the view before him. He could join Peter for the interview…it would probably prove to be very interesting. But even if he hadn't already made plans to speak with the tribal leader, he still wouldn’t want to join the young student for his meeting with the shaman. He simply had no interest in finding out anything more about "the way of the shaman," whatever that was supposed to mean. He was in a good place in his life right now. Everything was working fine with Jim sentinel-wise and with Blair guide-wise, and he wasn't interested in doing anything to upset the equilibrium. To upset his equilibrium.

  Turning and looking back at the young man beside Peter, he smiled. Stan had his eyes closed, arms folded loosely across his chest and his head leaned against the window. He looked like he was asleep…or quickly on his way to being asleep. “You’ve gotten awfully quiet, Stan,” he prodded the student who had been teasing Peter only moments before.

  Stan didn't move, didn't even open his eyes. He lifted a hand to make a dismissive gesture. “Sorry, this is just way too early for me.” He yawned mightily then, as if to further emphasize his point. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he sat up straight. "Hey," he said, smiling, “does anyone else want to stop for coffee?”

  Part Two

  Jim walked toward the living area, a deli-made submarine sandwich tucked under his left arm, a bottle of beer in his right hand, a container of dip in his left, and a bag of chips clenched in his teeth. As he settled down on the couch in front of the TV, depositing his dinner on the coffee table in front of him, he chuckled softly. If Sandburg could see him now, he’d never hear the end of it.

  “Do you know what that stuff will do to your heart, man? Why don't I just mix up some wallpaper paste and inject it directly into your arteries--it'd have the same affect!”

  “Well, Chief," Jim chuckled, ripping the bag of chips open in one deft move, "what you don't know won’t hurt you.” He looked at the brightly-colored chip package and the paper wrapping that had covered the sandwich and made a mental note to make sure he'd discarded all the "evidence" before his partner's return tomorrow. Picking up the remote, he flipped over to the Jags game before taking a big bite out of his sandwich.

  The kid had been gone for three days and Jim was scheduled to pick him up tomorrow afternoon at the rendezvous point. He hadn't spoken to Sandburg since his departure and any niggling worries that had come to Jim had been pushed away. It was a simple trip across state with three university students. Besides, he'd all but promised Blair he wouldn't worry. He's a big boy, Ellison, he chided himself. Enough with the big brother routine.

  He only hoped the last three days had been more productive for his partner than they had been for him. Just as expected, the court case had taken both Thursday and Friday...and he still hadn’t been called to testify. The entire experience had left him feeling tired and frustrated.

  He glanced toward the balcony doors. At least the heavy rain that had been falling steadily for the last two days had stopped late last night. The lingering sunshine today had helped to lighten his mood by leaps and bounds.

  As his gaze shifted back to the television, he couldn’t help but wish Blair were already home. He missed his exuberant partner. Missed having him around for dinner, working with him at the station, listening to him chatter on about students or internal politics over at Rainier.

  But there was more. Ever since Blair had left, Jim hadn’t been able to get a good night's sleep. He hadn’t realized how dependent he had become on the sound of the kid’s heartbeat to help him fall asleep until it wasn’t there anymore.

  Jim had just shoved a dip-laden chip into his mouth when he heard the elevator arrive on his floor. Seconds later, the familiar aroma of cigars reached him. He smiled. Simon had made it after all. He’d invited the captain over to watch the late afternoon game with him--it was Saturday, after all, and things had been slow at the station for the past couple weeks. But the bigger man had begged off, saying he had annual reports due to the mayor's office that had to be finished by Monday. Apparently, he’d gotten the paperwork done sooner than he hoped.

  Pushing up from the couch, Jim crossed to the door and pulled it wide. “Hey Simon,” he greeted the captain brightly. But as he took in Simon's grim expression, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. “Something’s wrong," he breathed out. "What happened? Did something happen to Blair?”

  “Jim--”

  “Was he hurt on that reservation?”

  Simon licked his lips as he moved into the loft and stood before the detective. “Jim,” he began again. “Sandburg never made it to the reservation.”

  Jim shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Earlier today, some hikers found him on the side of a mountain, up on the pass.”

  “On the side of…." Jim's words trailed off as his mind raced to accept what he was hearing and to formulate a logical conclusion to explain it. He stared at Simon. "Was there an accident? Did their car--"

  Simon shook his head. "There was no accident."

  "Then what happened? If he never made it to the reservation, then why didn’t he call…." The words died on his lips as a sudden, unwanted, scenario took root in his heart. He took a step back from Simon, panic clutching his gut. “No, Simon,” he breathed out. “He’s not...he’s not.…”

  “He’s not dead,” Simon assured him quickly, stepping forward and reaching out to place a steadying hand on Jim’s arm. “He’s at Cascade General.”

  “I want to go see him. Now.”

  Simon nodded. "My car's right downstairs. I'll drive you."

  Jim grabbed his coat and keys, closed the loft door behind him, and he and Simon quickly made their way down the stairs to the lobby. Jim was happy Simon had volunteered to drive--he knew he’d be no good behind the wheel.

  “What else do you know?” Jim pressed once they were on their way.

  “Not much. I haven’t seen him yet. I got a call down at the station.”

  “Why didn’t the hospital call me?”

  "Sandburg didn’t have any ID on him when he was brought in. He’s been at the hospital since around noon today. He’s unconscious...has been since he was found. No one knew who he was. One of the afternoon nurses came in for her shift and she recognized him. That’s when they called the station.”

  “Simon, I still don’t understand. What happened to Blair? Why didn’t he have--” His voice cut off as a new thought struck him. “Sandburg was on that trip with some students. What happened to the students? Are they at the hospital, too?”

  “Students?” Simon questioned. He glanced over at Jim. “More than one?”

  “There were three. Why?”

  The captain exhaled a long breath. “One boy was found near Blair. He was dead. If there were two others, they haven’t been found yet. More than likely, if they haven’t been heard from.… I’ll alert Search and Rescue that they’ve got two more people to locate.”

  “Search and Rescue? Simon, what the hell happened?”

  The captain glanced briefly at Jim, uncertainty clouding his dark eyes.

  “What else?” Jim pressed. “Tell me!”

  Simon returned his attention to the road. “I don’t have all the details yet…but Jim, when the hikers found him, Blair’s hands and feet were bound with duct tape. They said that there was tape over his eyes and mouth as well.”

  Jim’s stomach twisted with queasiness as the captain’s description of his partner’s condition washed over him. “Found him,” he breathed. “Are you saying he was just…left like that somewhere?”

  “According to Search and Rescue,” Simon continued, “it looked like both Sandburg and the
other kid had been bound and gagged, then pushed down the side of that mountain.”

  Jim stared at the captain in stunned silence. No, that couldn’t be right. No one could do something like that to another person. But as they drew closer and closer to Cascade General, he knew that’s exactly what had happened. “What kind of shape is he in?” he whispered when Simon didn’t continue.

  “The doctor I talked to said it’s a miracle the kid didn’t die from exposure after being left out in the rain and cold for so long."

  "So long? What do you mean?" Sandburg never made it to the reservation. Jim stiffened as Simon’s words came back to him. “Simon, how long was Blair on the side of that mountain?”

  Simon gave him a sympathetic look. "The doctor estimated at least two days.”