“Ellie! Look out!” Mac’s voice caromed throughout the hangar like thunder.
Startled, she jerked her eyes open.
Mac lunged for Ellie. He managed to strike her shoulder, and she let out a little cry as she lost her balance. As he jerked her into his arms, steadying her, something large sailed past them. It struck the concrete with a sharp, pinging sound.
“What?” Ellie whispered unsteadily. She regained her balance, wildly aware of Mac’s strong arms around her.
He stared at the corner, shocked. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Ellie stood on her own and his hands dropped from her shoulders. She stared into the gloom.
“This.” Mac went over and picked up a screwdriver. “Didn’t you see it?”
“N-no.” Ellie took the long, narrow screwdriver from him.
Scratching his head, Mac said in disbelief, “I saw it hanging in thin air. Somehow, I knew it was going to be thrown—at you.” He stared at her startled expression. “This is crazy,” he whispered angrily. “No screwdriver can hang in midair!”
Ellie said, “Let’s move away from this corner. I’m still getting chills. It isn’t safe, Mac. I don’t care whether you believe me or not.”
He wasn’t sure what he believed at this point. Gripping Ellie’s arm, he pulled her back toward the door. At least there was more light there, and he felt safer. The screwdriver was real. Who had thrown it? What had thrown it? There was no one else in the hangar right now, Mac was sure of it. He had no answers and he felt angry. Ellie could have been hurt! If he hadn’t seen the tool dangling in midair above her, who knows what might have happened?
Shaken, Ellie halted at the door beneath the light. The screwdriver felt cold in her hands and she shivered.
“Stay here,” Mac muttered.
“Wait!” She made a grab for his arm. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going back over there,” he said. “Somebody has to have thrown that screwdriver.”
“No! Don’t go over there, Mac! Believe me, there’s a malevolent spirit there. He could attack you if you get too close. Please, don’t go….”
Mac shook his head. “Stay here, Ellie. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Smothering her protest, she waited where she was. Mac moved with frightening swiftness back across the hangar. She lost sight of him as he moved around one of the jets and disappeared into the gloom. Her heart was beating raggedly in her breast. She was worried for Mac, but there was little she could do. He didn’t believe what he’d seen, and now he was looking for a physical culprit to blame it on. Ellie knew he’d find no one.
Ten minutes later, Mac came back, his face set, his eyes narrowed. Ellie stood under the light at the entrance, the shawl tight around her tense shoulders. She looked pale, her huge eyes holding fear. As he approached her, he muttered, “I didn’t find anyone.”
“I know….”
He scowled and reached out for her, his hand resting on her shoulder. He could feel the tension in her. “How are you?”
She smiled a little. “Shaken up, but okay. What happened over there?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
He shook his head. “Come on, let me take you home.”
“Thanks….” Once they left the hangar and were outside beneath the starlit sky, she felt better. Mac kept his hand on her elbow, and this time, she was glad for his closeness.
“I don’t know what happened in there,” he said tightly. “I saw it, but I don’t believe what I saw.”
Ellie nodded and allowed him to open the door of the Corvette for her. She waited until he got inside and they were driving away from the hangar before she spoke.
“If you hadn’t yelled, I’d never have seen that screwdriver.”
“Your eyes were closed. I knew you couldn’t see it.”
“Well,” Ellie whispered, feeling very shaky in the aftermath, “I’m glad you saw it.”
His mouth quirked. “Someone had to have thrown it at you. Damn.”
“Mac, the person who threw it wasn’t physical. You’re going to have to accept that sooner or later.” She saw the stubborn set of his jaw. “Whatever is in that hangar is angry, and is carrying a lot of hatred.”
“How do you know?”
“I felt it.”
The sentry at the gate again saluted smartly. Once outside the gate, Mac pressed on the gas and the Corvette speeded down the road. “Did you see anything?”
“No,” Ellie said sadly. “I can see only when I’m in that altered state. What I sensed was like a storm, a big, powerful storm. The closer I got to the corner, the more the energy became agitated, threatening and powerful.”
“This is crazy!”
Ellie said nothing. She could feel Mac wrestling with what had happened. “What do you want to do about it?” she asked him finally once they were on the freeway heading toward her home.
Snorting softly, Mac said, “Forget the whole thing.”
“You can’t do that.”
He glared at her. “Why not?”
“Because your people are being injured by whatever is in that corner. And I’ve got news for you—whatever or whoever it is, is not going to stop hurling tools at your people, Mac. Sooner or later, it could do serious damage. Is that what you want? Do you want your people really hurt? Maybe killed?”
“This is just too much for me to believe, Ellie.”
“I know it is,” she whispered. Her smile was sad. “I was afraid your traditional world would crash into mine, into what I know about this kind of paranormal phenomenon.”
“I respect what you believe,” he told her firmly. “But it’s a whole other thing for me to believe it.”
“Mac, I think I know enough about you to say this—your concern for the people who work for you will override your disbelief of what you saw.”
Rubbing his jaw, he glanced over at Ellie. She looked serene once again; the fear had left her eyes, and her mouth was soft and without tension. “All right,” he rasped, “when we get back to your place, you lay it out for me—give it to me with both barrels. It really doesn’t matter what I believe anymore. I’ve got to keep my people safe.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Ellie went to the kitchen and turned on the water to wash her hands. She felt Mac’s agitation as he hovered nearby.
“I don’t know about you,” Mac said, “but I could use a drink.”
Ellie pointed to the refrigerator. “There’s some white zinfandel in there. Pour us each a glass.”
It was a good idea. As Mac pulled out the wine, he kept an eye on Ellie. She seemed far less upset about the evening then he did.
“You seem cool, calm and collected,” he muttered, pouring the wine into two crystal goblets.
With the towel, she patted her palms dry. “Mac, this is a world I’m used to. You’re not, so it shakes you up. Sit down.”
He sat and she joined him.
She raised her glass. “Here’s to your indoctrination into metaphysics.”
With a snort, he gently touched her goblet with his. “I know what I saw. I just don’t want to believe it.”
“I know it’s a shock to you,” Ellie said wryly, sipping the cool, sweet wine.
With a shake of his head, Mac said, “It’s not my world.”
Setting the goblet aside, Ellie gave him a compassionate look. “Let me explain what I think happened. It’s a professional guess, but I really won’t know for sure until I go back in there and check it out in my altered state.”
“Okay,” Mac said. “What do you think is going down?” He worried about his crews, who would be coming in that morning at 0600. What if another screwdriver was thrown at them? His mind raced with more questions than he had answers for.
“I believe there is a discarnate spirit living in your hangar.”
“That’s a spirit that’s died but hasn’t gone to heaven?”
“Yes, so to speak. There is a place where most spirits go afte
r they’ve left the physical body after death. Some spirits stay behind because they miss a loved one, or because they miss something as simple as a favorite food, smoking or drinking. I once was asked to investigate a spirit who had been seen in an orchard, and when I journeyed and talked to him, I found out it was the owner who had originally planted that orchard. He loved his fruit trees so much, and was so worried that the present owner of the place wouldn’t take care of them, that he chose to stay and guard them himself.” She saw the disbelief on Mac’s face. “I know this all sounds crazy to you, but it’s the truth.”
“Go on,” Mac said unhappily.
“I was able to talk to that spirit and convince him that the present owner of the house would take good care of his trees, that they’d be well cared for. Once the spirit was convinced, he left, went on into what we call the light world, or heaven.”
“And you think that what is in the corner of Hangar 13 is one of these spirits?”
“I think so.” Ellie shrugged. “But there’s a danger to this, whatever it is.”
“No kidding.” Shaking his head, Mac put is glass aside. “I saw the screwdriver just hanging there in midair, Ellie. At first I didn’t believe it, but then this feeling came over me, and I knew it was going to be thrown at you.”
“So you reacted on a feeling,” Ellie said, pleased. “You were making decisions based upon your intuition, not your logic.” He didn’t seem quite so happy about it. Reaching out, she briefly touched his hand. “Usually, your world and my world don’t overlap, Mac. But you’ve got something out in your hangar that isn’t physical. What it’s doing is physical, though, and we have to do something about it. And fast.”
Mac liked the firm, warm touch of Ellie’s hand on his. “What’s really got me going is the fact that there are never any tools left around the hangar. Each crew member has his own set and they’re put away at the end of the day. You saw how clean and empty the hangar floor was. There weren’t any tools lying around.”
“If a spirit is powerful enough, Mac, it can literally create what it wants and manifest it into this third dimension. I’m sure it manifested that screwdriver.”
Exasperated, he glanced at her. “What would you do about this?”
“Let’s go back tomorrow night, providing no one is working in there. You can beat the drum for me, and I’ll go into an altered state and find out more about what is in that corner.”
Mac thought about what would happen if anyone on base found him beating a drum in the darkened hangar. It would be embarrassing, at the very least. But he couldn’t ignore the sincerity in Ellie’s eyes. With a sigh, he smiled slightly and said, “The last crew leaves at 2100—I mean, nine p.m. How about if I come over and pick you up to be there around midnight? Everyone should be gone by that time, and it will be quiet.”
“Good, because if the drumming is interrupted, Mac, it puts me in danger.”
“How?”
“The drum is like a road, a passage for me,” Ellie said. “The beat, the vibration, provides a path to and from my altered state. Shamans can get into real big trouble if they get ‘stuck’ in what we term nonordinary reality.”
“You mean, if I quit beating the drum, you could be stuck?”
“Yes.”
“What would happen then?”
“I’d be in either an unconscious or a semiconscious state, and nothing on this earth could bring me out of it.”
“Except the drumbeat?” Mac guessed.
“Yes.” Ellie smiled. “You catch on fast. The other alternative would be to have another shaman journey on my behalf, to help me come out of that state and back into this reality.”
“How long do I beat this drum of yours?”
“I’m fairly fast at journeying, so usually no more than fifteen minutes. Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to beat the drum. It’s not hard.”
“Good,” Mac said. He reached over and gently held her hands.
Mac’s touch was galvanizing, and Ellie felt the strength and the warmth of his fingers. Her heart speeding up, she pulled her hand from his. There was such magnetism between them! But it was wrong, all wrong…. Her lifestyle was a threat to him.
“I guess I’d better get going,” Mac said, slowly rising. “It’s been a long day and a real interesting night.”
Ellie nodded and stood. “It’s probably going to get more interesting tomorrow night.”
At the front door, Mac hesitated. The lamplight from the living room bathed Ellie’s oval face and high cheekbones in a radiant glow. He found himself wanting to tunnel his fingers through her thick, black hair. But he knew he had no business doing that. Ellie’s profession was a part of her, and Mac didn’t know how to deal with that—at least not yet. He gave her a warm look. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eleven.”
Ellie felt his inspection, felt the heat flowing through her as he appraised her with those hazel eyes so alive with intelligence. She wished she had met Mac under different circumstances. Sadness flowed through her. It was obvious he was wrestling with her lifestyle. Unless he was able to accept it—not necessarily embrace it, but at least respect it—Ellie knew it was pointless to hope for any kind of personal relationship with him.
After Mac said good-night and disappeared into the darkness, Ellie closed the door quietly. She liked his steadiness, his intelligence and obvious warmth. If only… Ellie shook away her thoughts and headed for the bathroom to run a tub of water.
But the sadness returned as she added lilac-scented bath salts to the warm water. She couldn’t get Mac out of her mind, and she laughed softly. Look at them—she a shamaness, he a military officer. Could they be any more opposite? She knew that some men were drawn to her unusual lifestyle, but their interest had never extended to the person Ellie was inside. What made her think Mac would be any different?
Sitting on the edge of the pink tub, she moved her hand gently through the warm water to dissolve the bath crystals. What did Mac really think of her? Did he see only her profession? Was that the focus of his interest in her? Or did he see beyond what she did for a living, to the person she was? Ellie wasn’t sure at all.
At the moment, though, they had more pressing issues to deal with. Whether or not Mac believed in spirits, there was one in Hangar 13, and it posed a real threat to the people who worked there. Ellie hoped that she could find more answers tomorrow night—before anyone else got hurt.
“Are you ready?” Mac’s voice echoed eerily throughout the gloomy depths of Hangar 13. It was a little past midnight, and he had just brought out two chairs from his office for them to sit on. Ellie was dressed in a white cotton skirt and a soft pink shell, and had a beautifully crocheted dark pink shawl draped around her proud shoulders. Tonight she wore her hair loose and free, and Mac was having trouble keeping his attention—and his hands—off her and on the situation.
“Yes.” Ellie took one of the chairs and sat down, facing the corner furthest from the one where she’d sensed the agitation, anger and hatred. This was the safest place for her to commence her journey. She planted her sandaled feet firmly on the concrete floor of the hangar. All was quiet—almost too quiet. Glancing up, she saw Mac standing nervously a few feet away. She beckoned for him to join her.
Mac took the other folding chair and sat down about two feet away from her, the drum in one hand, the drumstick in the other. “I feel kind of silly,” he admitted.
Ellie smiled. “No one is going to come by and catch you playing a drum, Mac, so relax.” She couldn’t blame him for his nervousness. She was a bit tense herself. And with Mac sitting so close, she was finding it a little hard to concentrate. He was dressed in formfitting jeans that revealed his long legs and a red polo shirt that outlined his upper body to perfection. But Ellie had to focus on what was before them.
He tested the drum, creating a steady, sonorous beat that echoed and reechoed throughout the hangar. Looking up, he saw her nod.
“That’s a good, steady beat. Just keep doing it until I
tell you to stop.”
“Okay.” It was a round drum and fairly heavy, and the twelve elk-skin thongs converged in the center so that Mac could easily hold it in his hand. He watched with curiosity as Ellie folded her hands in her lap, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. What would she find? What would she see? Mac had no idea what to expect, but he was watchful of that corner where he’d seen the screwdriver suspended last night. The hangar was shadowy and gloomy, the lights overhead throwing dark, distorted shapes here and there. If he wasn’t careful, he would start seeing things in those shapes….
Ellie began to breathe deeply and evenly. The drum’s resonance was at once soothing and focusing. She could feel the vibration begin to permeate her. Mac’s presence was disconcerting, and she had to hone in and concentrate even more to achieve the proper state.
Suddenly, Ellie could feel herself switching from the left hemisphere of her brain to the right. The viewing screen in front of her closed eyes instantly brightened, and a moment later, her spirit guide, an Indian woman known as Yona, which meant “bear” in Cherokee, appeared to her. She was dressed in a soft deerskin dress, her braids thick and black.
“It is good to see you again, my friend,” Yona greeted.
Ellie saw herself approaching her guide, who was not only her mentor, but her friend as well. “Osiyo,” Ellie said, which meant hello in Eastern Cherokee. She embraced Yona and felt an instant warmth and unending love surround her. As she stepped back, Ellie said, “I would like permission to journey on behalf of Major Mac Stanford.”
Yona nodded gravely. “You have our permission, Iya.”
Ellie nodded. Her given Eastern Cherokee name was Iya, which meant “pumpkin.” To an ordinary person, it was a funny name that always drew a smile. But it symbolized something much deeper. A pumpkin held seeds of possibility, and her mother had always told her she was a woman of many skills and talents. A pumpkin was close to Mother Earth, one of her vegetables, rounded and pregnant looking. Her mother had always said, that Ellie was filled with many brain children or ideas.
“Is there anything I need to know going into this journey?” she asked Yona.
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