Death Waits in the Dark

by Mark Edward Langley

  Arthur’s biceps were pumping from adrenaline and worked the wheel deliberately as the disintegrating tire separated from the truck and wobbled through the air awkwardly, disappearing into the darkness. Sparks flew as the spinning rim met the pavement as he struggled to maintain his quickly fading control, the Bronco’s headlights now bringing into view the advancing mound of wedge-shaped earth he was approaching.

  The truck rumbled up the mound and rotated to its left before taking flight. Arthur pulled his hands from the wheel and crossed them over his chest as the truck spun in the air. When the back of the Bronco’s roof impacted the ground, the rear window shattered, forcing the truck’s velocity to quickly slam the roof and front end into the earth. Arthur’s back wrenched as the grill guard dug into the hard-packed terrain and compressed the truck’s front end, bending the hood into a crushed accordion. Arthur felt the back of his head slam against the headrest before the resulting g-force pushed his chin into his sternum and his legs cracked against the underside of the dash, his feet contorting against the pedals as he watched the windshield spiderweb and felt the sting of glass fragments pelting his face as he covered his eyes with his hands.

  It was all happening in slow motion.

  And then everything stopped.

  The truck rocked back onto its roof and laid there still, one headlight shining off into the dust-filled, shadowy night. All Arthur could think of now that the truck rested on its back was thank god for the roll bar.

  The Ford engine that had raged as the truck launched off the ridge now droned on at idle speed. He reached for the key and switched off the engine, his weakening arm falling back to him. He looked around through blurry eyes, blood now spotting his face and hands where the glass had cut into them and running from his chin into his mouth and nostrils. He forced red air from his nose and red spit from his mouth just as he felt his mind growing dim, his body growing weak, and his vision slowly fading … and then everything turned to a nice, comfortable shade of black.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Darkness surrounded Arthur Nakai as he felt a strange wind begin to blow across the shadowy world he found himself wandering through. He knew immediately it was Niłchʼi Diyin, the Holy Wind of the Dark World that he was taught about as a child. Soon he found himself standing, still and quiet, watching in sheer amazement as the Mist People, who had no certain form of their own, but could assume the shape of bird or beast or reptile, began to move over the Dark World. This is the time before the earth even existed, he told himself. Before the concept of man and woman had even transformed themselves into their present forms, away from simple male and female beings. It must be. He had heard the Creation story told to him by his paternal grandfather many times while growing up. But why was he here? Why should he be allowed to witness such a sacred event? Why would the Creator show him the vision of the beginning of his own people?

  He bowed his head, feeling unworthy of this vision that was being bestowed upon him. When he lifted his head, he noticed he was now standing on a small island that floated in the center of four seas. The Mist People could not see him and were busy going about their work. He watched quietly as First Man and First Woman were formed. He saw First Man build a fire using only a crystal, while First Woman did the same using only a piece of turquoise. Arthur’s vision was like that of an eagle. He could see that both First Man and First Woman observed each other’s fires from a distance. He watched as First Man searched three times in the darkness for her turquoise flame but could not locate it. On his fourth journey, however, Arthur observed First Man tear a branch off the only pine tree he could see for miles and hold it up to indicate where the other light blazed. Arthur followed First Man through the darkness to a home where grayish smoke rose into the air. He fell to his knees as First Woman and First Man met for the first time, drawn to each other by their fire, just as he had been drawn to Sharon.

  Soon afterward, several other beings arrived to populate the First World, including the Great-Coyote-Who-Was-Formed-in-the-Water, called First Angry, and the Wasp People along with a multitude of other creatures. They were followed by the beings known as spider ants and black ants. Soon came many other creatures to inhabit the land of the First World including Spider Man and Spider Woman and Salt Man and Salt Woman. As Arthur kept quiet and watched intently, he soon noticed that this world was beginning to be too small to maintain such a large number of creatures, and he watched in amazement as they began fighting amongst themselves. They fought so much that the creatures ended up crawling out of the darkness through a passageway that had been revealed to them in the east.

  Arthur quickly followed.

  When they emerged into the Second World, the Blue World, Arthur found himself mesmerized by the many creatures that appeared before him, the various blue-gray furry mammals and the many feathered beings, including the blue swallows. It did not take long, however, for the beings from the First World to offend Táshchózhii, the Swallow Chief, and there was more fighting and killing. So much so that the Swallow Chief banished them from the Blue World. Arthur watched as First Man created a wand using jet and other minerals so that the banished people could walk upon it to the next world using an opening created in the World of Blue Haze in the south.

  Again, Arthur eagerly followed.

  The bluebird was first to arrive in Niʼ Hałtsooí, the Third or Yellow World. In this world Arthur could see the two rivers that formed a cross upon the land and the Underwater People who lived along them. He saw the six sacred mountains and the Cave Dwellers, but noticed there was no sun in this world either, yet he was still able to see.

  Arthur observed that more animal people lived here than in the first two worlds, and he could see the Kisa’ni, the ancient people of the pueblo. This time it was not disharmony that drove the people from this new world but rather a tremendous flood unleashed by Tééhoołtsódi, the Water Buffalo, after it was learned that Coyote had slipped across where the two rivers met and stolen her two children on behalf of First Woman.

  You can never trust Coyote, Arthur remembered his grandfather saying as he recited the story. He is only out for himself and is the biggest trickster of all.

  As the water swarmed in from all directions, swirling as it rose steadily and quickly, Arthur fled the great flood with the others and emerged into the Fourth World, the White World. As he looked out upon this new world, he saw that it also was covered in water and there were monsters inhabiting it. Still he was surprised that he could not be seen by anyone, not even the monsters. But there he was, as solid a man as he could be, watching life unfold before his very eyes. He saw himself as an imperceptible traveler who had been given the blessed gift of observing everything from the beginning of time.

  He watched as the Sacred Mountains were molded into new majestic forms using soil from the original mountains in the Second World. He watched as First Man, First Woman, and the Holy People created the sun that shone brightly in the sky and gave life to all things. He watched them create the moon, the seasons, and the stars that filled the night sky. And he watched in awe as Water Buffalo appeared, her curly wet hair and black horns shining as the water ran from her head. She had come for her two children, the ones stolen from her by Coyote.

  It was First Man who stood and asked her why she had followed them into the Fourth World since it was she who had started the great flood. He got no response. Coyote stepped forward and opened his coat to reveal the two stolen children. Water Buffalo snorted. Her eyes blazed. Coyote was given a basket laden with sacred pollens and a crystal. Everyone, including Arthur, watched as Coyote placed the basket between the horns of the great Water Buffalo, and as he did so he informed her that they would give back only the male child, who would be known as the Black Cloud or Male Rain. He would bring with him thunder and lightning. He also instructed Water Buffalo that they would keep the female child, and she would be known as the blue, yellow, and white clouds that would bring the gentle,
soothing rains that would moisten the earth and make things grow so that they all might live.

  It was here, as Arthur watched and listened, that First Man spoke of this new world being a small and barren land, a land which had been soaked and made useless by the flood of the lower worlds. Arthur hid and watched as First Man planted a large female reed that grew up to the roof of the Fourth World. First Man then tasked two beings to climb the reed and venture into the Fifth World. When they returned, they told great stories of powerful medicines and of a world that was dry. And so, First Man and First Woman then led the people into the Fifth World.

  It was at this time Arthur began to feel something soft and familiar surrounding his right hand. He looked down but did not see anything that would make him feel such a sensation. Yet he felt it take hold of him and draw him farther away from the spectacle before him.

  Soon a calming mist began to envelop him, and he could see nothing of his surroundings but began to feel every tingle and distinguish every sound. Along with this newfound awareness came a feeling coursing through his body—like tiny fires that had been unleashed to give him just enough pain to feel alive. Throughout this new awakening in the Fifth World, words were being spoken that were stirred into the soup of his brain, more stock to be added to the broth of his subconscious.

  He was becoming more aware now the of strange sounds that were filtering into this consciousness, sounds that quickly became more annoying in their monotony, while others seemed comforting in their familiarity. He began to comprehend the warmth that seemed to surround his hand, and his olfactory senses were filled with the delicate aroma of a familiar fragrance. It was her fragrance. Sharon’s fragrance. And he recognized it instantly.

  As he stepped from the mist, his eyes focused on the sterile white room and the perforated ceiling tiles that held the aluminum track of the curtain that had been pulled back against the wall to allow the nurse to perform her duties. She was changing the IV and smiled softly down at him, her blue eyes compassionate in the harshness of the overhead lighting. When he moved his eyes from the nurse, he saw Sharon sitting beside him, tears quietly streaming down her face, her hands clasped like a clamshell around his right hand. He smiled. She smiled, then rested a gentle hand against his wounded and bruised face. She stood carefully and leaned over him, pressed her sweet lips against his with a restrained passion that brought with it a sense of the promise that kept the tiny fires of pain in check. Her tears fell wet against his face, and all he could do was realize the purpose of his vision. It had all been placed there as the path to lead him back to her.

  As if the repetitive tones of the EKG monitoring his heart weren’t steady and irritating enough, the bulky alligator clip clamped to his index finger added to his annoyance, and the electrodes stuck to his chest made him feel like a guinea pig in a science fiction movie. Sharon sniffled as her face drew away from his, and he saw her look across the room. Arthur turned his head as far as his aching neck would allow and saw Jake Bilagody and John Sykes standing to his left, looking like they were in a museum staring at an abstract painting they couldn’t quite figure out. They were also blocking his view of the clear blue sky. The concave design of the hospital seemed to capture the sun as it tried to penetrate his room through the multipaned window behind them.

  Jake was the first to step up, his uniform crisp and sharp-edged as always, his gun belt polished and glistening of Kiwi black. In comparison, Arthur noted, Sykes looked like Lee Marvin’s stunt double from The Dirty Dozen. Arthur also noticed that the reassuring look on Jake’s face was trying to mask the hint of reservation that still lingered behind his middle-aged eyes.

  “Glad you made it back to the land of the living,” Jake said.

  Arthur half grinned, still groggy. “How did I get here?” He rolled his head over on the pillow and looked at Sharon again. She had pulled her long black hair into a ponytail that trailed down the back of her orange blouse with the white buttons. “The last thing I remember is being on the phone with you.”

  “I didn’t know what was happening,” Sharon confided. “I heard the crash and then nothing. I called Jake the second I lost the call.” Sharon’s body quaked visibly. “I never want to hear that sound again.” She kissed the back of his bruised, alligator-­clipped hand softy. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Arthur squeezed her hand with the thumb and three free fingers of his right hand, leaving the alligator-clipped index finger extended. “Does Ak’is miss me?”

  Sharon smiled. “Of course he does. He was following me all around the house last night before I left to come here. He’s probably still sitting on the back porch waiting for you.”

  Arthur smiled and rolled his head back over to Jake. “How’s my truck?”

  “The whole front end, radiator, and some other pertinent parts, along with some of the undercarriage, are toast,” he said. “The hardtop is beyond repair due to the bullet hole and you landing on it. Hosteen says the frame’s bent, and you broke a motor mount so there’s a lot of costly work coming your way. And the windshield will need to be replaced. He’ll have to order you a new hardtop and can get working on it as soon as we give it to him. Other than that, it’s in perfect shape.” Jake held up a hand, thwarting Arthur’s next question. “We’re holding it as evidence because we need to go over it thoroughly before any work gets done.”

  “Evidence?” Arthur said. “Bullet holes?”

  Jake’s eyes looked at Sharon, then gave a sideways look to Sykes before landing back on Arthur. “You didn’t just blow a tire, my friend. Someone shot at you. And not just to scare you off.”

  Arthur could feel Sharon’s body bristling from the tendons in her hands clamping around his. “Looks like I got close to something, and someone doesn’t like it.”

  “A little too close,” Jake agreed. “Forensics pulled the same kind of slug from your truck that we found at the Flat Iron. Whoever killed Tsela and Tahoma Tabaaha wanted to take you out too.”

  The nurse finished her task with the IV and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Hard to believe they missed,” Arthur said, then looked at Sykes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have a scanner in my truck. I was visiting someone here in Farmington last night when I heard the call. I figured they’d be bringing you to San Juan Regional.” He walked to the foot of the bed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Didn’t wanna be in the way last night, so I texted the guys and told them what happened after I got a room at the Travel Inn.”

  “You stayed around town just to check on me?”

  Sykes shrugged. “Forty bucks for a clean bed and a microwave. Besides, the guys are all worried and brothers always have each other’s six.”

  Arthur fought the throbbing pain in his face and body and grimaced as it tried to take hold of him through the pain meds dripping from the bag above. He noticed Jake working on a thought while he stood there listening to the two men talk. It didn’t take him long to verbalize it.

  “You two wouldn’t mind if I spoke with Arthur alone, would you?”

  “Not at all,” Sykes said, lifting himself from the wall.

  “Of course not,” Sharon agreed, letting go of her husband’s bruised hand. “John,” she offered, “you want to grab a coffee at Café La Ventana downstairs?”

  “Why not,” he said, and followed Sharon out of the room.

  Jake removed his hat, pulled a chair away from a wall, and slid it up beside Arthur’s bed. Arthur’s hand located the push button at the end of the white cord and raised the head of the bed thirty degrees. “Did you find the girls?”

  “Right where you said.” Jake’s eyes bounced around the room. He rested his elbows on his knees and twirled his hat loosely in his fingers. “We scared the hell out of them though. I had a flatbed tow pick up their white Bronco II from the motel, and I’ve got the girls in protective custody n
ow at the District.”

  “Did they tell you anything?”

  Jake sat up straight, still holding on to his hat, but no longer twirling it. “They left the boys about ten minutes before they were killed. Apparently, they were doing what young boys and girls do at night in places like that. When things got a little bit friskier than the girls liked, they put a stop to it and left. Just to teach them a lesson.”

  Arthur said, “To pull a stunt like that the girls must have driven them out there and made them think they were leaving them to find their own way home. Did your guys turn up anything knocking on any of those doors around there? Did anyone say they saw or heard anything?” A jolt of pain shot through Arthur’s body, taking hold of him momentarily. He hoped whatever painkiller was in the new IV would get going and put a stop to that.

  “The girls were going to drive away and come back in about twenty minutes,” Jake explained. “They drove off and parked out of sight down the road where that pumpjack is. They turned their lights off and just sat there.” Jake paused. “That’s when they say they heard a sound they’d never heard before. And they heard it twice. They got scared and high-tailed it outta there, down the road past that metal swing gate, and hid their truck among some junk cars by one of those houses. The resident of one of the houses confirmed they saw a white vehicle, but didn’t get a license number, and wasn’t too sure what type of vehicle it even was.” Jake pointed two spread fingers at his eyes and shook them. “She doesn’t see too good.”

  “I still can’t believe they just left the boys.”

  “They’re teenage girls, Arthur,” Jake said sympathetically. “They were scared. Anyway, they were parked close enough to the road to see some kind of pickup truck speed by before they left.”