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"The Burning Sky"
"The Burning Sky"
5/14-5/15/2011
I.
At noon, Bane pulled into Rio Soledad. It was bigger than he had expected, and there was more greenery as well. Lawns looked healthy, there were lots of trees and the mountains to the west were blue against a bluer sky. He only been in New Mexico a few times and then only to the Human Capabilities Project, which was way out in the badlands by choice. Rio Soledad was a pleasant surprise. He rolled past a movie theatre, antique furniture stores, pharmacies and a bar and grill that said FAT JOE'S in cursive neon. Seeing a convenience mart, he pulled in and filled the tank of the rental car. Out of long habit, he checked the tires and oil, then parked over on the side and wiped the windows inside and out with paper towels. He knew that once shooting and pursuits began, having the car prepped could be life-saving.
Going inside, the Dire Wolf bought two ham and cheese sandwiches, a big bag of cashews and a bottle of water. He ate everything outside, leaning on the red Nissan and watching traffic. A lot of pick-up trucks blasting country music, a van full of chatting Mexican girls about high school age, three Harleys tearing along as if the road was going to vanish any second. Bane sipped the water and took in his surroundings.
It was hot but dry, and even in his black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, he was not uncomfortable. At fifty-four, he was still gaunt and trim, with only a few grey flecks in the black hair. His pale grey eyes moved as restlessly as they always had. He was not eager to get back in the car. When he got the call from one of his reporters, Bane had been in sightseeing in El Paso. Two days of trying food he hadn't eaten before had been enough and he had been ready to return to New York. More and more, he was wandering between cases, taking flights to Rio or Macao or Naples almost at random. So far, without exception, the Midnight War had found him within a few days. Cindy had once told him that he was a born magnet for weirdness and trouble, and she seemed to have been right. Of course, having a hundred people pointing him toward weirdness had something to do with, he realized.
The phone call from Ben Schoonmaker had surprised him. Bane had saved the man from a lengthy trial and probable conviction for a murder he hadn't committed by bringing in the real killer, along with stacks of evidence including photos taken by the killer of the victim in the killer's own basement. Almost embarrassingly grateful, Schoonmaker had offered everything he owned to Bane, but the Dire Wolf explained he didn't take rewards as such. Instead, he asked that Schoonmaker inform him of anything inexplicable or seemingly supernatural that he learned about, and the man had readily agreed. That had been twelve years ago, and Schoonmaker had only called once when two headless bodies had been found in the river. Then this call, out of the blue. Bane had thanked the man and asked that he always keep an eye out for weirdness.
Saving half the water for the drive, the Dire Wolf threw the wrappers in a trash bin and got back in the rental. Schoonmaker's story had caught his interest and it was intriguing that the story reached him when he was already in Texas, not that far from Rio Soledad. Almost creepy, in fact, but Bane was used to it.
Heading west on Highway 41, he covered another twenty miles before he saw what he was looking for and pulled over. A dirt road with a bright blue mailbox that read HENDRICKS HOME. The mailbox had been knocked over at some point and put up again in a different hole. There was a dent in one side that had been hammered out, more or less. He looked around and saw what had been a small farm not long ago but now the fields were empty. Just visible were a couple of buildings, some greenery, a pole with a weather vane shaped like a running horse. As Bane was gazing, a beat-up Dodge Ram turned sharply as it went past him and tore up the dirt road. All of Bane's danger signals were triggered. He started up the Nissan and sped after the truck.
They both slammed to a halt in front of an old farm house in good repair, where a dozen teenagers were on the enclosed porch. There were eight girls and four boys. Standing protectively in front of them were a middle-aged couple. The man looked about late fifties, with a thick middle and a bald spot; the woman was the same age, thin, with long dark blonde hair tied up in a swirl. Both were wearing well-used work clothes, flannel shirts and jeans and boots.
Jumping out of the truck and striding toward them was a man who made Bane bristle with danger signals. Just under six feet tall, solid and muscular, the man had on black jeans, a short denim jacket and a white Stetson hat. As the Dire Wolf got out of his car just behind the Dodge truck, he saw that the intimidating man was wearing not boots but soft moccasins with bead work on them. The man seemed completely unaware of Bane behind him. The Dire Wolf took advantage of this to stick a small tracer under the rear bumper, where it stuck magnetically.
"Your time is up, Dolores," the man announced to the couple. "Westco has given you plenty of opportunity to accept their offer. They even found a decent place to relocate not a hundred miles from here." As the man spoke, some in his speech rhythmns sounded American Indian to Bane.. Navajo, maybe? He was no expert.
"Westco can go to hell," the woman answered. "My father left this land to Fred and me and we will never let your owners pump poison into the ground. I think you need to stop coming here, Jesse."
The man she called Jesse stop closer, raised a finger not six inches from her face, and the man Fred got between them. "Don't you EVER menace my wife," he said.
Jesse smiled. "You know what's funny? Right now your face doesn't hurt."
"What?"
In a blur of precise motion, Jesse moved his right foot a few inches to the left and swung it up in a reverse hooking kick that smashed its edge to Fred's face. The man had no defenses and was caught unprepared. He spun halfway around and fell to his hands and knees. Dolores jumped at Jesse, yelling "You filthy coward!" and the man caught her arm at wrist and elbow to flung her aside.
"Hey, tough guy!" said Bane quietly. "Try me."
II.
Jesse jumped and spun around as if stung by a scorpion. The man had a square, weathered face with deepset eyes and a thin mouth. He pushed the cowboy hat further back on his head. "And just how might this be your business, stranger?"
"My business is whatever I make it to be," Bane answered. He stood with lowered hands, relaxed and ready to move in any direction. As Jesse took a menacing step toward him, the Dire Wolf's long training let him gauge the man's balance and control. This was an opponent that had to be taken seriously.
"Look out, mister!" warned the woman. "Jesse Redbone's killed men with his hands and feet. Stay away from him."
"Thanks," Bane said as the man charged. Jesse Redbone came in fast, feinted with a left jab and brought up a front snap kick directly at Bane's crotch. The Dire Wolf slapped that kick down with his palm but got caught by a right cross that grazed his jaw. This guy was good. Bane waited for the follow-up. As Jesse Redbone whirled on one foot to throw a spinning back kick, the Wolf moved in close, swept the man's supporting leg out from under him and blasted a backfist that crashed against the side of Jesse's face. The man hit the dirt hard, his hat fell off, and he rolled to one side to get out of reach.
Bane waited. On his face was no anger or determination, just the cold calm stare a predator gives its prey. He saw Jesse grab a handful of dirt and snapped, "Come on, none of that. I expect better from you."
Still on the ground, the man got up on his toes and fingers, spun around twice as he scuttled in closer and drove a moccasin up to connect squarely to Bane's chin. The Dire Wolf had been taken by surprise, he had been expecting Redboneto get up before attacking. The kick had a lot of power behind it. Bane stepped back, raising his arms and caught another kick to the side of the knee that got him off balance. In that second, Jesse Redbone was up and whirling to smack a right elbow to the side of the head. The Dire Wolf was already off balance and that blow knocked him down.
He wasn't recognizing these moves. What kind of style had this man been trained in? As Jesse Redbone hopped in the air and came down spinning with his left leg out, Bane was up and ready. He slammed his fist head-on against that leg, stopping it dead and sending his opponent to the ground again. Redbone got up with a wince, limping a bit as he moved forward. Bane flashed forward with a simple straight side kick that cracked hard against the man's chest. Jesse Redbone fell backward, his feet going up so the bottom of his moccasins showed. He floundered but did not get up immediately.
Bane stood quietly watching as Redbone managed to get up on hands and then rise. The baffled look on his face was priceless. Favoring one leg, he went to get the white Stetson and, without a word, went back over to his truck. Stopping only to give the Dire Wolf a venomous glare, he fired it up and drove away quickly.
"Thank you, mister," said the woman. She had helped her husband to his feet."I didn't think I'd live to see someone stand up to Jesse Redbone!"
"No matter who you are, there's someone better out there." Bane turned to face the couple. Some of the teens were stepping off the porch and timidly approaching. "I've come to help, but we need to talk."
III.
Inside, seated at a round kitchen table beneath a picture window with thin lace curtains, Bane came right out and explained he worked as a PI in New York City, but his real career was ghostbusting and monster hunting. He had come to Rio Soledad because of a report of serious weirdness going on. Seeing Jesse Redbonebeating on people had led him to intervene.
"There has been some strange goings-ons up in the hills at night," said Fred. "But that's not why Jesse is here trying to intimidate us."
"It's the corporation he works for. Westco. They have been trying to get us to sell this property for a year now. When money doesn't work, threats follow. And now Jesse Redboneis starting to lean on us."
Bane took a sip of the coffee but no more than that. Caffeine was the last thing he needed. "What does Westco want this land for?"
"Hydrofracking. Their experts think we're sitting on a motherlode natural gas pocket," Dolores said. "Not that I approve of fracking in the first place. Pumping millions of gallons of poison into the water table? Bad idea. But you know, corporations... anything that makes money is okay with them."
"And this Jesse Redbone works for them?"
"I guess. He used to be sort of our local hero. He protected the Indians and the Mexicans from a vicious sheriff we had for ten years. He was just a roamer, living out in the badlands by himself, fishing and trapping and just coming into town to defy the sheriff," she said. "Then he went bad himself."
"Jesse's mostly Navajo," Fred explained. "He went in the Army for a few years and came back messed up. I don't know what he saw during combat but now he has a lot of funny ideas."
"I've had some martial arts training," Bane said with amazing understatement, "and I didn't recognize his moves. He didn't learn that stuff during basic training."
"That's another weird thing. Jesse claims he found three Kanut still alive in the hills. Old men in their eighties. As far as anyone knows, the Kanut died out in the early 1800s but Jesse swears the old shaman taught him their tribe's fighting secrets, as well as spiritual powers like talking to eagles and summoning storms." Fred finished his coffee and got up for more. "Nobody laughs at Jesse Redbone, it was never safe and now it's suicide."
Bane glanced over at the teenagers on the porch, some of whom were stealing glances inside. "What is this place, a halfway house or rehab or what?"
"It's a safe place for runaways," Dolores said. "We get some funding from the State, Fred has a disability check from the railroad where he worked thirty years and that takes care of the two of us. Most of the kids we manage to relocate to a school or some nice couple we meet ourselves beforehand. Two of our guests have part-time jobs in town."
"It's a hard life on the streets," the Dire Wolf said thoughtfully. "I survived it for my early years. You're doing good work here. This is better than these children selling drugs or their bodies."
"Oh yes," Dolores said. "My sister's daughter ran off to Houston because her parents fought all the time. She would have been nineteen today if she were alive."
Looking out the window, Bane saw the teenagers laughing and talking. One was starting an old push lawnmower and getting ready to do the patch of land beside the farm house. As far as he could tell, they were all clean and healthy, fed well enough and in good spirits. He turned back to Doflores and Fred. He had learned to trust his instincts. "It's time for me to look into this further. First, I need a long conversation with Jesse Redbone
"Be careful," Fred warned him. "You looked like you had the upper hand just now, but he's wily and tough. And I should mention he has a Marlin .30-30 in his truck."
"Thanks," said Bane as he rose. "I'll let you folks know how it turns out."
"How do you expect to find him?" Dolores asked as he headed for the door.
"That won't be a problem," Bane said. As he stepped out on the porch, he found the teens had scattered and he noticed a dead patch of land in the middle of what had been a corn field. There was a circle of bare hard dirt big enough to build a house on. As Dolores and Fred came up behind him, the Dire Wolf asked, "What's that all about?"
"No one knows for sure," Fred said. "Dolores' father said it used to be fine but about ten years ago, everything in that circle died off. He couldn't even get weeds to grow there."
"It's strange," the wife added slowly. "I figure there's a big pocket of that natural gas there, that's why Westco is so all-fired eager to drill here. But what do I know? I was a music teacher."
"I'm no scientist either," Bane said. "But I suspect that patch means something." He started heading for his car. "See you folks when I have results." He got in the rental and pulled up the long dirt road to the highway. Remembering what direction Redbone had come from, he started that way. Once he was out of sight of the Hendricks Home, he pulled off the road and got his knapsack out of the back seat. Bane lifted the false bottom to reveal a dozen white cardboard boxes packed down there. He took out a metal device the size of a cigarette pack and activated it. The Trom tracker's monitor lit up on one side, showing a small green arrow over a grid. Jesse Redbone had gone about twenty miles west while he had been in the farmhouse.
IV.
As he followed the blip, Bane had a lot to think about. He replayed the fight with Redbone several times, analyzing, trying to prepare counters. The man used a lot of circular motions, and he had unfamiliar attack angles. It was no style the Dire Wolf was familiar with. Usually the right counter to circular moves would be straight lines but he wasn't sure how well that would work against this. Redbone was fast and tough, certainly, another factor to consider.
Then there was that circular dead patch on the ground. He hadn't mentioned it to the Hendricks, but it reminded him of a dead area he had seen in another realm, beneath which a Sulla Chun was uneasily stirring. If that was the case here, it was vital that the Westco did not start drilling on that spot. They would rouse a horror so great that nothing manmade could stop it. The Sulla Chun were beyond Human comprehension. They had been imprisoned before the beginning of what archaeology could reveal, and whenever they stirred, nightmares and death followed. He was suddenly worried about the safety of the people at the home.
As he drove along, the landscape got drier and more barren, more like what he had expected. The highway turned to the right, but a smaller road continued west and that was where the blip directed him. After a few small houses and a cabin, the road ended with a DEAD END sign. Bane checked the screen and found that Redbone's truck was stopped three miles up a rudimentary dirt road. He followed but pulled over as the potholes and rough surface got to be damaging. Getting out, he saw the Dodge Ram parked under a tree, next to a footpath leading up the hill.
The Dire Wolf started up the path when he caught a faint click a hundred yards above him. In a blur, he leaped ten feet to one side as a bullet chipped a hole in a boulder next to where he had been standing. His .38 long-barrelled Smith & Wesson was in his hand like a conjuring trick, swinging up so he and Jesse Redbone were covering each other simultaneously.
"That's a long shot for a handgun, especially uphill," Redbone called down. He was standing behind a round chest-high boulder with his Marlin propped on its top.
"I have one word you need to hear," Bane called back. "Wakan-Manitou."
For a long two minutes, Redbone was silent. Finally, he stood up and pointed the rifle at the ground. "I never expected to hear that name from a white man."
"I've been around. I've seen a dead circle like the one on that farm, and I've seen what is buried deep beneath it. That's your real agenda, isn't it?"
Jesse Redbone took his time answering. "Leave your gun there. Come up. Meet the elders."
Slowly and deliberately, Bane unloaded his revolver, putting the bullets in his jacket pocket and tucked the gun partly beneath the boulder out of sight. He still had the silver daggers up his sleeves, as well as other weapons and gadgets in hidden pockets, but he was not going to volunteer that information of course. The Dire Wolf headed up the path as Redbone uncocked his rifle and slung it over his shoulder.
"Just who ARE you, mister?"
"My name is Bane. Some call me Dire Wolf. I'm a walker in deep waters, a hunter of beasts that weapons cannot harm."
"I see. Well, tell that to the elders. I think they will be interested in meeting you," Redbone said as he led the way up the path. They walked in silence for a few miles before coming to a wide flat area where three old men sat around a sand painting. They were wrapped in colorful blankets and only their eyes moved as Redbone and Bane approached. The Dire Wolf had seen Alchemists older than normal lifespans would allow, but he had to admit these three looked even more ancient than that. They were just wrinkles over bone, thin white hair hanging loose down their backs, with only their sharp watchful eyes seeming to be alive.
They were sitting cross-legged around a complicated pattern made of grains of white and red and green sand, with a black border. It was shaped like a swastika with curved arms and an eye in the middle. One of the old men reached out with a long pointed stick and slowly adjusted a few particles. "Better."
Jesse brought Bane over to where all three could see him. One of the elders grumbled, "I do not seem to remember inviting white man here."
The ancient next to him grinned toothlessly. "Perhaps he is here to see if we need anything. How thoughtful."
"This man said 'Wakan-Manitou," Jesse Redbone announced. "He may know too much."
The largest of the elders, wrapped in a red blanket, had only one eye. The other stayed shut as he peered up at the Dire Wolf. "I see much. I see a spirit which knows no rest. I see knives with silver blades. I see a wolf as big as a horse, a wolf with eyes the color of steel. Dire Wolf."
Bane squatted down before them. "You are right. I am known as Dire Wolf, but how should I address the grandfathers?"
"I am White Moon Shining," said the elder with one eye.
"And I, Two Bulls," added the ancient one who sat in a hide wrap.
"Call me Boy Laughs," said the third, so withered it was surprising to hear him speak. "And you, Dire Wolf, why did you speak the name that should not be spoken?"
"It is a desperate time," Bane answered. "You men are wise, you know much that is hidden. The Great Old Ones who sleep beneath the ground and beneath the lakes should remain asleep. It is not good for the earth if they awaken."
Two Bulls chuckled and his head slowly raised. "It is not good for your people. But what have we left to lose? We are all that remains of a proud nation, the Kanut will be with the snows of last winter and the grass of last summer. All things must pass. Let you devils who stole our land pass as we do."
Bane slowly rose. "It is an unjust heart who would kill babies for what their great-grandfathers did. I see you three are not wise after all, you are just out for revenge. I expected better from you."
"You know nothing, Dire Wolf."
"I know there is a wisdom beyond weapons. I know that you must break the wheel of vengeance or it will spin forever." He pointed an accusing finger at the elders. "And I will stop you, as I have stopped others like you."
"Son Jesse!" White Moon Shining called, "Have we taught you our secrets for nothing? Will you let this man walk away?"
"No," said Jesse Redbone in a low voice. "I will not."
V.
Bane turned away from the elders and stepped over to a clear open space. He waited as Redbone bowed to the three ancient ones and followed. The man tilted his Stetson back on his head, held out his right arm and sang out three words in the Knut tongue. From high overhead came a piercing shriek and a bald eagle plunged down to land on Redbone's outstretched arm. The huge bird wrapped its talons around the man's forearm, turning its head to glare at Bane with murderous golden eyes.
"Brother of the sky, you have come as the treaty spoke," said Redbone. "This man must not see the moon rise." He lifted his arm, the eagle swept its giant wings down and lifted off to dart toward Bane with a screech. The Dire Wolf stood his ground. There was a flurry of motion too brief for anyone to follow, and Bane was gripping the eagle with one hand pinning its legs together and the other bending its neck back so far it almost broke. The powerful wings thrashed and the bird struggled violently, but Bane held him.
The elders cried out as if they themselves were being hurt. "It cannot be!" gasped Boy Laughs, "this is not possible."
"All right, settle down." the Dire Wolf said as calmly as if he were holding a sleeping puppy rather than a enraged eagle. His arms barely moved as he restrained the creature. "I don't want to have to kill this bird. Can you send it away?"
White Moon Shining sang out in a language only four humans spoke. The eagle stopped fighting, its chest still heaving, and the yellow eyes closed to slits. Bane warily lowered the big creature to the ground, from which it waddled three steps away and shot up into the sky again.
"Are the spirits with this one?" asked Boy Laughs. "Never have I heard of such a deed and there is no scratch upon him."
"Bah. He is a warrior of Tel Shai, can't you see that? But he will not stand before the Wakan-Manitou." White Moon Shining raised his withered face. "See. The sky is red with our anger."
It was true. In those few minutes that Bane had been wrestling with the bald eagle, the sky overhead had shifted from deep blue to an angry dark red. The scattered cumulus clouds glowed scarlet in that sullen light. The Dire Wolf frowned as he saw this, and then he spotted a thin streak of brighter red flash like lightning parallel to the ground. And he could suddenly smell sulphur.
"You don't realize what you are trying to rouse," he snapped at the three elders. "I've seen the Sulla Chun. Stop your spell now!"
Sitting in their circle, the ancient Kanut shamans did not reply. Bane started toward them, and Jesse Redbone tackled him from the side in a flying leap that brought them both to the hard dry dirt. They rolled over, then Bane got free and was on his feet an instant before his opponent. As Redbone rose, the Dire Wolf smacked a straight forefist to the face that broke the man's nose and knocked him back down. "There's no time for this," Bane growled.
Blood was flowing freely down Redbone's face onto his jacket but he got to his feet. Then he squatted down, whirled in a circle like a dervish and swung one leg that swept Bane off his feet. The Kanut fighting style was like nothing the Dire Wolf had fought before, and he was unprepared for the moves. Jesse came in fast, stomping down with a moccasined feet at Bane's face but he missed by an inch and then the Dire Wolf was coming at him. In less than a second, five full-power hooking punches exploded against Redbone's sides and the final blow cracked a rib. The man swayed and Bane gave him a backfist that spun him to one side, the cowboy hat flying off his head. Redbone dropped to his hands and knees.
Overhead, plumes of yellow and orange flame had begun to flicker across the red sky. In that light, everything looked hellish.
"They told me you used to be a hero to the people here!" Bane shouted. "You were their protector. You did what was right. What the hell happened to you?" As Redbone tried to get up, the Dire Wolf continued. "All the children in Rio Soledad are going to die because of you. All the little old grandmothers, all the animals for miles around are going to go insane with terror before they die. Is that what you want? What is wrong with you?"
"When police break the law..." Redbone got out as he tried to wipe his face, "Then there is no law."
"Don't give me that," Bane yelled. "Law is in the hearts of men as they try to do what's right. If you have lost your soul and want to be a mass murderer, it's your fault. Stay there on the ground. I'm going to stop this."
Swinging to face the three Kanut shamans, Bane whipped the silver daggers from his sleeves. In the lurid red light, their blades glimmered pale and clean. Ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin, the silver blades almost shone like moonlight. He strode toward the elders and they shrank back, suddenly losing their menace and becoming frightened old men. "Don't even think about trying to stop me," he barked as he got between them and bent to scatter the sand painting with the silver daggers. He ruined its design and then kicked the colored sand in all directions.
"I'll be back for you jokers," Bane said as he sheathed the daggers under his sleeves again, then took off at a run down the path that led down the steep gradient. Behind him, three ancient shamans stiffly tried to rise as Jesse Redone took a red handkerchief from his hip pocket and pressed it to his bleeding nose. He was crying.
V.
Under the burning sky, the Dire Wolf hurtled headlong down the path to where he had left his car. He paused to retrieve his gun and load it with the shells he had put in his pocket, then he was behind the wheel and tearing along the dirt road back to the highway. Everything was a surly reddish color from the flames in the sky. Bane hit the highway and floored it back toward the Hendricks Home at eighty-five miles an hour. As he whipped along, he saw people standing outside their homes staring up at the flames in the sky. A pick-up truck had pulled over and two middle-aged men were standing with their mouths open. He expected mass panic in town. People would think it was the end of the world, and for them it would be. He tugged out his phone but there was no service.
Swerving left onto the dirt road that led to the Hendricks Home, Bane saw everyone huddled outside in a mass like animals trying to find shelter with each other. The teen runaways were staring silently up at the burning sky. Fred and Dolores Hendricks were near them, holding each other and shaking their heads. Out here, the reek of sulphur was strong enough to choke a person. Skidding to a stop, the Dire Wolf leaped out of his car and glanced over at the dead patch of ground. It was what he feared. The surface was bulging upward, swelling up as if something huge were about to break through an emerge. He had not disrupted the Kanut spell in time.
As they saw him, the Hendrickses rushed over. "What's going on? What does this mean?"
"All of you have to get away from here!" Bane yelled. "Go to the town. Tell everyone to evacuate the area. Everyone has to get asfar away as fast as they can."
"What's wrong with the sky?" screamed a girl.
"Everyone get going NOW! Your lives depend on it," he shouted. A tremor ran through the ground and some of them lost their footing. Bane began shoving them toward the cars parked by the barn. Two cars and a pickup truck, he thought, they should all be able to get in. He was almost throwing them at the vehicles, trying to get them in but they were near hysteria. The red light from the sky gave everything a nightmarish quality.
Fred Hendricks grabbed his sleeve. "Do you know what's going on? What IS this?"
"No time to explain," Bane said as he propelled the man toward a car full of distraught teenagers. "Head toward town. Try to get everyone you see to evacuate. Think of it as a volcano about to erupt."
A car pulled out and tore off down the dirt road, then the second one followed. Dolores was about to get behind the wheel of the truck when she called, "Jeremy, what about you?"
"Don't worry about me, just go!" The Dire Wolf slammed the door as she got in and gunned the motor. The truck made a circle in the dirt and roared off. Left alone, Bane glared angrily at the bulge in the dead area of the field. A single crack was running through it, and the brimstone stench was suffocating. The sky was blazing now, but there was no heat from it, just red light. He stepped closer to the dead patch. Under the collar of his turtleneck, he felt stinging pain as the Eldaran talisman he always wore tried to protect him from the harmful gralic force pouring over the area.
Bane tried to think of some way to stop this but he didn't know what he could do. The sheer power of a Sulla Chun had been enough to destroy even Khang a decade earlier. A sacrifice might satisfy the dread being beneath the ground, but Bane did not know any rituals or spells. He drew the silver daggers and saw their blades were shining as if reflecting spotlights. Well, he thought, at least I got the Hendrickses and those kids away from here. Maybe they would manage to get a few more townspeople out of range before the Great Old One rose. It was too late for him. Steam was rising from the crack in the ground and he felt another tremor beneath his boots. Horrible images began to fill his head as the influence of the Sulla Chun gave him waking nightmares.
Behind him, Bane vaguely heard an engine get closer and then turn off. As visuals of suffering people and leering demonic faces ran through his head, he managed to turn and saw the beat-up Dodge Ram right behind him. Jesse Redbone opened the driver's door and fell out, then got to his feet. His nostrils were packed with torn strips of cloth, his face and jacket were crusted with drying blood. The man's eyes rolled wildly as he stumbled over to grab Bane by the arms.
"I can't do it," he gasped, hardly able to breathe through the sulphur. "Not like this. I wasn't really expecting this."
"Well, it's a little late to change your mind," Bane answered coldly. "You just came down here to die."
Jesse Redbone took a deep shuddering breath. "Yes. Give me one of those silver blades."
Beginning to understand, the Dire Wolf handed over one of the daggers and nodded slowly. Redbone took the holy weapon and lurched unsteadily toward the chest-high bulge in the ground. By now, steam was gushing up and spraying boiling water. The earth was trembling under them. Redbone dropped to his knees and chanted in Kanut, but what he was saying could only have been understood by the three ancient sorcerers in the hills. With a sudden convulsive movement, Redbone raised the dagger in both hands and drove it suddenly into his own heart. With a sigh, he collapsed face down in the dirt.
As suddenly as that, the terror faded away. Steam trickled down to mere wisps. Overhead, the streaks of flame became fainter and the sky gradually turned from hot crimson to a softer maroon and eventually to its natural color. Bane fell down, surprising himself as his knees buckled. He was covered with sweat and his hands were shaking. Getting to a seated position, he caught his breath and watched as the world came back to normal. A breeze blew in from the south and he saw a bird fly overhead. It was over. He got to his feet, turned Redbone over and tugged out the knife. No matter what else happened, those silver daggers had been given to him by Kenneth Dred when he first entered the Midnight War and he would never part with them. Redbone's eyes were closed already and his face looked peaceful.
Eventually, Bane went to the barn and found a pickaxe and shovel. He buried Jesse Redbone by the crack in the ground, which started to seal as he worked. The bulge in the earth slowly lowered as flat as evening came. The Dire Wolf covered the new grave as best he could, scattering dirt from the road thickly over the entire dead patch. It would be getting dark soon. Going in the farmhouse, Bane took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat wearily on the porch to wait for everyone to return once they realized the danger was over.
VI.
Three days later, Bane had met with lawyers from the agency where his representative Taylor Worth worked. He bought the property outright, with the provision that Hendricks Home would be allowed to operate there as long as Fred and Dolores wished. Bane also left an annual fund for upkeep, and he had Taylor herself talk with the local representatives to Westco to make the situation clear. He seldom used the fortune he had inherited from Kenneth Dred for anything more than his own operating expenses but this was called for. Bane also had the dead patch covered over with cement three inches thick, without explaining why.
Before he left the area, the Dire Wolf drove up to the hills and looked for the three shamans. He found their robes and blankets lying in heaps, with only dry brown dust inside the fabric. He was not surprised. Their magick had kept them alive beyond the span they had been rightfully given. He burned the blankets and robes, scattered what remained of the sand painting and exhaled sadly as he went back down the path. He had suffered disturbing nightmares the first time he slept since the Sulla Chun had stirred but even those had faded.
One year later to the day, the Dire Wolf came back to Rio Soledad to check that everything was well. The Hendricks Home was thriving. Some of the teens had started a vegetable garden as the soil seemed to come back to life. Late that night, he stood by the cement which covered the dead earth and stood lost in thought. Jeremy Bane did not know any prayer to say for the dead, but he silently thanked Jesse Redbone.
4/9/2014
5/14-5/15/2011
I.
At noon, Bane pulled into Rio Soledad. It was bigger than he had expected, and there was more greenery as well. Lawns looked healthy, there were lots of trees and the mountains to the west were blue against a bluer sky. He only been in New Mexico a few times and then only to the Human Capabilities Project, which was way out in the badlands by choice. Rio Soledad was a pleasant surprise. He rolled past a movie theatre, antique furniture stores, pharmacies and a bar and grill that said FAT JOE'S in cursive neon. Seeing a convenience mart, he pulled in and filled the tank of the rental car. Out of long habit, he checked the tires and oil, then parked over on the side and wiped the windows inside and out with paper towels. He knew that once shooting and pursuits began, having the car prepped could be life-saving.
Going inside, the Dire Wolf bought two ham and cheese sandwiches, a big bag of cashews and a bottle of water. He ate everything outside, leaning on the red Nissan and watching traffic. A lot of pick-up trucks blasting country music, a van full of chatting Mexican girls about high school age, three Harleys tearing along as if the road was going to vanish any second. Bane sipped the water and took in his surroundings.
It was hot but dry, and even in his black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, he was not uncomfortable. At fifty-four, he was still gaunt and trim, with only a few grey flecks in the black hair. His pale grey eyes moved as restlessly as they always had. He was not eager to get back in the car. When he got the call from one of his reporters, Bane had been in sightseeing in El Paso. Two days of trying food he hadn't eaten before had been enough and he had been ready to return to New York. More and more, he was wandering between cases, taking flights to Rio or Macao or Naples almost at random. So far, without exception, the Midnight War had found him within a few days. Cindy had once told him that he was a born magnet for weirdness and trouble, and she seemed to have been right. Of course, having a hundred people pointing him toward weirdness had something to do with, he realized.
The phone call from Ben Schoonmaker had surprised him. Bane had saved the man from a lengthy trial and probable conviction for a murder he hadn't committed by bringing in the real killer, along with stacks of evidence including photos taken by the killer of the victim in the killer's own basement. Almost embarrassingly grateful, Schoonmaker had offered everything he owned to Bane, but the Dire Wolf explained he didn't take rewards as such. Instead, he asked that Schoonmaker inform him of anything inexplicable or seemingly supernatural that he learned about, and the man had readily agreed. That had been twelve years ago, and Schoonmaker had only called once when two headless bodies had been found in the river. Then this call, out of the blue. Bane had thanked the man and asked that he always keep an eye out for weirdness.
Saving half the water for the drive, the Dire Wolf threw the wrappers in a trash bin and got back in the rental. Schoonmaker's story had caught his interest and it was intriguing that the story reached him when he was already in Texas, not that far from Rio Soledad. Almost creepy, in fact, but Bane was used to it.
Heading west on Highway 41, he covered another twenty miles before he saw what he was looking for and pulled over. A dirt road with a bright blue mailbox that read HENDRICKS HOME. The mailbox had been knocked over at some point and put up again in a different hole. There was a dent in one side that had been hammered out, more or less. He looked around and saw what had been a small farm not long ago but now the fields were empty. Just visible were a couple of buildings, some greenery, a pole with a weather vane shaped like a running horse. As Bane was gazing, a beat-up Dodge Ram turned sharply as it went past him and tore up the dirt road. All of Bane's danger signals were triggered. He started up the Nissan and sped after the truck.
They both slammed to a halt in front of an old farm house in good repair, where a dozen teenagers were on the enclosed porch. There were eight girls and four boys. Standing protectively in front of them were a middle-aged couple. The man looked about late fifties, with a thick middle and a bald spot; the woman was the same age, thin, with long dark blonde hair tied up in a swirl. Both were wearing well-used work clothes, flannel shirts and jeans and boots.
Jumping out of the truck and striding toward them was a man who made Bane bristle with danger signals. Just under six feet tall, solid and muscular, the man had on black jeans, a short denim jacket and a white Stetson hat. As the Dire Wolf got out of his car just behind the Dodge truck, he saw that the intimidating man was wearing not boots but soft moccasins with bead work on them. The man seemed completely unaware of Bane behind him. The Dire Wolf took advantage of this to stick a small tracer under the rear bumper, where it stuck magnetically.
"Your time is up, Dolores," the man announced to the couple. "Westco has given you plenty of opportunity to accept their offer. They even found a decent place to relocate not a hundred miles from here." As the man spoke, some in his speech rhythmns sounded American Indian to Bane.. Navajo, maybe? He was no expert.
"Westco can go to hell," the woman answered. "My father left this land to Fred and me and we will never let your owners pump poison into the ground. I think you need to stop coming here, Jesse."
The man she called Jesse stop closer, raised a finger not six inches from her face, and the man Fred got between them. "Don't you EVER menace my wife," he said.
Jesse smiled. "You know what's funny? Right now your face doesn't hurt."
"What?"
In a blur of precise motion, Jesse moved his right foot a few inches to the left and swung it up in a reverse hooking kick that smashed its edge to Fred's face. The man had no defenses and was caught unprepared. He spun halfway around and fell to his hands and knees. Dolores jumped at Jesse, yelling "You filthy coward!" and the man caught her arm at wrist and elbow to flung her aside.
"Hey, tough guy!" said Bane quietly. "Try me."
II.
Jesse jumped and spun around as if stung by a scorpion. The man had a square, weathered face with deepset eyes and a thin mouth. He pushed the cowboy hat further back on his head. "And just how might this be your business, stranger?"
"My business is whatever I make it to be," Bane answered. He stood with lowered hands, relaxed and ready to move in any direction. As Jesse took a menacing step toward him, the Dire Wolf's long training let him gauge the man's balance and control. This was an opponent that had to be taken seriously.
"Look out, mister!" warned the woman. "Jesse Redbone's killed men with his hands and feet. Stay away from him."
"Thanks," Bane said as the man charged. Jesse Redbone came in fast, feinted with a left jab and brought up a front snap kick directly at Bane's crotch. The Dire Wolf slapped that kick down with his palm but got caught by a right cross that grazed his jaw. This guy was good. Bane waited for the follow-up. As Jesse Redbone whirled on one foot to throw a spinning back kick, the Wolf moved in close, swept the man's supporting leg out from under him and blasted a backfist that crashed against the side of Jesse's face. The man hit the dirt hard, his hat fell off, and he rolled to one side to get out of reach.
Bane waited. On his face was no anger or determination, just the cold calm stare a predator gives its prey. He saw Jesse grab a handful of dirt and snapped, "Come on, none of that. I expect better from you."
Still on the ground, the man got up on his toes and fingers, spun around twice as he scuttled in closer and drove a moccasin up to connect squarely to Bane's chin. The Dire Wolf had been taken by surprise, he had been expecting Redboneto get up before attacking. The kick had a lot of power behind it. Bane stepped back, raising his arms and caught another kick to the side of the knee that got him off balance. In that second, Jesse Redbone was up and whirling to smack a right elbow to the side of the head. The Dire Wolf was already off balance and that blow knocked him down.
He wasn't recognizing these moves. What kind of style had this man been trained in? As Jesse Redbone hopped in the air and came down spinning with his left leg out, Bane was up and ready. He slammed his fist head-on against that leg, stopping it dead and sending his opponent to the ground again. Redbone got up with a wince, limping a bit as he moved forward. Bane flashed forward with a simple straight side kick that cracked hard against the man's chest. Jesse Redbone fell backward, his feet going up so the bottom of his moccasins showed. He floundered but did not get up immediately.
Bane stood quietly watching as Redbone managed to get up on hands and then rise. The baffled look on his face was priceless. Favoring one leg, he went to get the white Stetson and, without a word, went back over to his truck. Stopping only to give the Dire Wolf a venomous glare, he fired it up and drove away quickly.
"Thank you, mister," said the woman. She had helped her husband to his feet."I didn't think I'd live to see someone stand up to Jesse Redbone!"
"No matter who you are, there's someone better out there." Bane turned to face the couple. Some of the teens were stepping off the porch and timidly approaching. "I've come to help, but we need to talk."
III.
Inside, seated at a round kitchen table beneath a picture window with thin lace curtains, Bane came right out and explained he worked as a PI in New York City, but his real career was ghostbusting and monster hunting. He had come to Rio Soledad because of a report of serious weirdness going on. Seeing Jesse Redbonebeating on people had led him to intervene.
"There has been some strange goings-ons up in the hills at night," said Fred. "But that's not why Jesse is here trying to intimidate us."
"It's the corporation he works for. Westco. They have been trying to get us to sell this property for a year now. When money doesn't work, threats follow. And now Jesse Redboneis starting to lean on us."
Bane took a sip of the coffee but no more than that. Caffeine was the last thing he needed. "What does Westco want this land for?"
"Hydrofracking. Their experts think we're sitting on a motherlode natural gas pocket," Dolores said. "Not that I approve of fracking in the first place. Pumping millions of gallons of poison into the water table? Bad idea. But you know, corporations... anything that makes money is okay with them."
"And this Jesse Redbone works for them?"
"I guess. He used to be sort of our local hero. He protected the Indians and the Mexicans from a vicious sheriff we had for ten years. He was just a roamer, living out in the badlands by himself, fishing and trapping and just coming into town to defy the sheriff," she said. "Then he went bad himself."
"Jesse's mostly Navajo," Fred explained. "He went in the Army for a few years and came back messed up. I don't know what he saw during combat but now he has a lot of funny ideas."
"I've had some martial arts training," Bane said with amazing understatement, "and I didn't recognize his moves. He didn't learn that stuff during basic training."
"That's another weird thing. Jesse claims he found three Kanut still alive in the hills. Old men in their eighties. As far as anyone knows, the Kanut died out in the early 1800s but Jesse swears the old shaman taught him their tribe's fighting secrets, as well as spiritual powers like talking to eagles and summoning storms." Fred finished his coffee and got up for more. "Nobody laughs at Jesse Redbone, it was never safe and now it's suicide."
Bane glanced over at the teenagers on the porch, some of whom were stealing glances inside. "What is this place, a halfway house or rehab or what?"
"It's a safe place for runaways," Dolores said. "We get some funding from the State, Fred has a disability check from the railroad where he worked thirty years and that takes care of the two of us. Most of the kids we manage to relocate to a school or some nice couple we meet ourselves beforehand. Two of our guests have part-time jobs in town."
"It's a hard life on the streets," the Dire Wolf said thoughtfully. "I survived it for my early years. You're doing good work here. This is better than these children selling drugs or their bodies."
"Oh yes," Dolores said. "My sister's daughter ran off to Houston because her parents fought all the time. She would have been nineteen today if she were alive."
Looking out the window, Bane saw the teenagers laughing and talking. One was starting an old push lawnmower and getting ready to do the patch of land beside the farm house. As far as he could tell, they were all clean and healthy, fed well enough and in good spirits. He turned back to Doflores and Fred. He had learned to trust his instincts. "It's time for me to look into this further. First, I need a long conversation with Jesse Redbone
"Be careful," Fred warned him. "You looked like you had the upper hand just now, but he's wily and tough. And I should mention he has a Marlin .30-30 in his truck."
"Thanks," said Bane as he rose. "I'll let you folks know how it turns out."
"How do you expect to find him?" Dolores asked as he headed for the door.
"That won't be a problem," Bane said. As he stepped out on the porch, he found the teens had scattered and he noticed a dead patch of land in the middle of what had been a corn field. There was a circle of bare hard dirt big enough to build a house on. As Dolores and Fred came up behind him, the Dire Wolf asked, "What's that all about?"
"No one knows for sure," Fred said. "Dolores' father said it used to be fine but about ten years ago, everything in that circle died off. He couldn't even get weeds to grow there."
"It's strange," the wife added slowly. "I figure there's a big pocket of that natural gas there, that's why Westco is so all-fired eager to drill here. But what do I know? I was a music teacher."
"I'm no scientist either," Bane said. "But I suspect that patch means something." He started heading for his car. "See you folks when I have results." He got in the rental and pulled up the long dirt road to the highway. Remembering what direction Redbone had come from, he started that way. Once he was out of sight of the Hendricks Home, he pulled off the road and got his knapsack out of the back seat. Bane lifted the false bottom to reveal a dozen white cardboard boxes packed down there. He took out a metal device the size of a cigarette pack and activated it. The Trom tracker's monitor lit up on one side, showing a small green arrow over a grid. Jesse Redbone had gone about twenty miles west while he had been in the farmhouse.
IV.
As he followed the blip, Bane had a lot to think about. He replayed the fight with Redbone several times, analyzing, trying to prepare counters. The man used a lot of circular motions, and he had unfamiliar attack angles. It was no style the Dire Wolf was familiar with. Usually the right counter to circular moves would be straight lines but he wasn't sure how well that would work against this. Redbone was fast and tough, certainly, another factor to consider.
Then there was that circular dead patch on the ground. He hadn't mentioned it to the Hendricks, but it reminded him of a dead area he had seen in another realm, beneath which a Sulla Chun was uneasily stirring. If that was the case here, it was vital that the Westco did not start drilling on that spot. They would rouse a horror so great that nothing manmade could stop it. The Sulla Chun were beyond Human comprehension. They had been imprisoned before the beginning of what archaeology could reveal, and whenever they stirred, nightmares and death followed. He was suddenly worried about the safety of the people at the home.
As he drove along, the landscape got drier and more barren, more like what he had expected. The highway turned to the right, but a smaller road continued west and that was where the blip directed him. After a few small houses and a cabin, the road ended with a DEAD END sign. Bane checked the screen and found that Redbone's truck was stopped three miles up a rudimentary dirt road. He followed but pulled over as the potholes and rough surface got to be damaging. Getting out, he saw the Dodge Ram parked under a tree, next to a footpath leading up the hill.
The Dire Wolf started up the path when he caught a faint click a hundred yards above him. In a blur, he leaped ten feet to one side as a bullet chipped a hole in a boulder next to where he had been standing. His .38 long-barrelled Smith & Wesson was in his hand like a conjuring trick, swinging up so he and Jesse Redbone were covering each other simultaneously.
"That's a long shot for a handgun, especially uphill," Redbone called down. He was standing behind a round chest-high boulder with his Marlin propped on its top.
"I have one word you need to hear," Bane called back. "Wakan-Manitou."
For a long two minutes, Redbone was silent. Finally, he stood up and pointed the rifle at the ground. "I never expected to hear that name from a white man."
"I've been around. I've seen a dead circle like the one on that farm, and I've seen what is buried deep beneath it. That's your real agenda, isn't it?"
Jesse Redbone took his time answering. "Leave your gun there. Come up. Meet the elders."
Slowly and deliberately, Bane unloaded his revolver, putting the bullets in his jacket pocket and tucked the gun partly beneath the boulder out of sight. He still had the silver daggers up his sleeves, as well as other weapons and gadgets in hidden pockets, but he was not going to volunteer that information of course. The Dire Wolf headed up the path as Redbone uncocked his rifle and slung it over his shoulder.
"Just who ARE you, mister?"
"My name is Bane. Some call me Dire Wolf. I'm a walker in deep waters, a hunter of beasts that weapons cannot harm."
"I see. Well, tell that to the elders. I think they will be interested in meeting you," Redbone said as he led the way up the path. They walked in silence for a few miles before coming to a wide flat area where three old men sat around a sand painting. They were wrapped in colorful blankets and only their eyes moved as Redbone and Bane approached. The Dire Wolf had seen Alchemists older than normal lifespans would allow, but he had to admit these three looked even more ancient than that. They were just wrinkles over bone, thin white hair hanging loose down their backs, with only their sharp watchful eyes seeming to be alive.
They were sitting cross-legged around a complicated pattern made of grains of white and red and green sand, with a black border. It was shaped like a swastika with curved arms and an eye in the middle. One of the old men reached out with a long pointed stick and slowly adjusted a few particles. "Better."
Jesse brought Bane over to where all three could see him. One of the elders grumbled, "I do not seem to remember inviting white man here."
The ancient next to him grinned toothlessly. "Perhaps he is here to see if we need anything. How thoughtful."
"This man said 'Wakan-Manitou," Jesse Redbone announced. "He may know too much."
The largest of the elders, wrapped in a red blanket, had only one eye. The other stayed shut as he peered up at the Dire Wolf. "I see much. I see a spirit which knows no rest. I see knives with silver blades. I see a wolf as big as a horse, a wolf with eyes the color of steel. Dire Wolf."
Bane squatted down before them. "You are right. I am known as Dire Wolf, but how should I address the grandfathers?"
"I am White Moon Shining," said the elder with one eye.
"And I, Two Bulls," added the ancient one who sat in a hide wrap.
"Call me Boy Laughs," said the third, so withered it was surprising to hear him speak. "And you, Dire Wolf, why did you speak the name that should not be spoken?"
"It is a desperate time," Bane answered. "You men are wise, you know much that is hidden. The Great Old Ones who sleep beneath the ground and beneath the lakes should remain asleep. It is not good for the earth if they awaken."
Two Bulls chuckled and his head slowly raised. "It is not good for your people. But what have we left to lose? We are all that remains of a proud nation, the Kanut will be with the snows of last winter and the grass of last summer. All things must pass. Let you devils who stole our land pass as we do."
Bane slowly rose. "It is an unjust heart who would kill babies for what their great-grandfathers did. I see you three are not wise after all, you are just out for revenge. I expected better from you."
"You know nothing, Dire Wolf."
"I know there is a wisdom beyond weapons. I know that you must break the wheel of vengeance or it will spin forever." He pointed an accusing finger at the elders. "And I will stop you, as I have stopped others like you."
"Son Jesse!" White Moon Shining called, "Have we taught you our secrets for nothing? Will you let this man walk away?"
"No," said Jesse Redbone in a low voice. "I will not."
V.
Bane turned away from the elders and stepped over to a clear open space. He waited as Redbone bowed to the three ancient ones and followed. The man tilted his Stetson back on his head, held out his right arm and sang out three words in the Knut tongue. From high overhead came a piercing shriek and a bald eagle plunged down to land on Redbone's outstretched arm. The huge bird wrapped its talons around the man's forearm, turning its head to glare at Bane with murderous golden eyes.
"Brother of the sky, you have come as the treaty spoke," said Redbone. "This man must not see the moon rise." He lifted his arm, the eagle swept its giant wings down and lifted off to dart toward Bane with a screech. The Dire Wolf stood his ground. There was a flurry of motion too brief for anyone to follow, and Bane was gripping the eagle with one hand pinning its legs together and the other bending its neck back so far it almost broke. The powerful wings thrashed and the bird struggled violently, but Bane held him.
The elders cried out as if they themselves were being hurt. "It cannot be!" gasped Boy Laughs, "this is not possible."
"All right, settle down." the Dire Wolf said as calmly as if he were holding a sleeping puppy rather than a enraged eagle. His arms barely moved as he restrained the creature. "I don't want to have to kill this bird. Can you send it away?"
White Moon Shining sang out in a language only four humans spoke. The eagle stopped fighting, its chest still heaving, and the yellow eyes closed to slits. Bane warily lowered the big creature to the ground, from which it waddled three steps away and shot up into the sky again.
"Are the spirits with this one?" asked Boy Laughs. "Never have I heard of such a deed and there is no scratch upon him."
"Bah. He is a warrior of Tel Shai, can't you see that? But he will not stand before the Wakan-Manitou." White Moon Shining raised his withered face. "See. The sky is red with our anger."
It was true. In those few minutes that Bane had been wrestling with the bald eagle, the sky overhead had shifted from deep blue to an angry dark red. The scattered cumulus clouds glowed scarlet in that sullen light. The Dire Wolf frowned as he saw this, and then he spotted a thin streak of brighter red flash like lightning parallel to the ground. And he could suddenly smell sulphur.
"You don't realize what you are trying to rouse," he snapped at the three elders. "I've seen the Sulla Chun. Stop your spell now!"
Sitting in their circle, the ancient Kanut shamans did not reply. Bane started toward them, and Jesse Redbone tackled him from the side in a flying leap that brought them both to the hard dry dirt. They rolled over, then Bane got free and was on his feet an instant before his opponent. As Redbone rose, the Dire Wolf smacked a straight forefist to the face that broke the man's nose and knocked him back down. "There's no time for this," Bane growled.
Blood was flowing freely down Redbone's face onto his jacket but he got to his feet. Then he squatted down, whirled in a circle like a dervish and swung one leg that swept Bane off his feet. The Kanut fighting style was like nothing the Dire Wolf had fought before, and he was unprepared for the moves. Jesse came in fast, stomping down with a moccasined feet at Bane's face but he missed by an inch and then the Dire Wolf was coming at him. In less than a second, five full-power hooking punches exploded against Redbone's sides and the final blow cracked a rib. The man swayed and Bane gave him a backfist that spun him to one side, the cowboy hat flying off his head. Redbone dropped to his hands and knees.
Overhead, plumes of yellow and orange flame had begun to flicker across the red sky. In that light, everything looked hellish.
"They told me you used to be a hero to the people here!" Bane shouted. "You were their protector. You did what was right. What the hell happened to you?" As Redbone tried to get up, the Dire Wolf continued. "All the children in Rio Soledad are going to die because of you. All the little old grandmothers, all the animals for miles around are going to go insane with terror before they die. Is that what you want? What is wrong with you?"
"When police break the law..." Redbone got out as he tried to wipe his face, "Then there is no law."
"Don't give me that," Bane yelled. "Law is in the hearts of men as they try to do what's right. If you have lost your soul and want to be a mass murderer, it's your fault. Stay there on the ground. I'm going to stop this."
Swinging to face the three Kanut shamans, Bane whipped the silver daggers from his sleeves. In the lurid red light, their blades glimmered pale and clean. Ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin, the silver blades almost shone like moonlight. He strode toward the elders and they shrank back, suddenly losing their menace and becoming frightened old men. "Don't even think about trying to stop me," he barked as he got between them and bent to scatter the sand painting with the silver daggers. He ruined its design and then kicked the colored sand in all directions.
"I'll be back for you jokers," Bane said as he sheathed the daggers under his sleeves again, then took off at a run down the path that led down the steep gradient. Behind him, three ancient shamans stiffly tried to rise as Jesse Redone took a red handkerchief from his hip pocket and pressed it to his bleeding nose. He was crying.
V.
Under the burning sky, the Dire Wolf hurtled headlong down the path to where he had left his car. He paused to retrieve his gun and load it with the shells he had put in his pocket, then he was behind the wheel and tearing along the dirt road back to the highway. Everything was a surly reddish color from the flames in the sky. Bane hit the highway and floored it back toward the Hendricks Home at eighty-five miles an hour. As he whipped along, he saw people standing outside their homes staring up at the flames in the sky. A pick-up truck had pulled over and two middle-aged men were standing with their mouths open. He expected mass panic in town. People would think it was the end of the world, and for them it would be. He tugged out his phone but there was no service.
Swerving left onto the dirt road that led to the Hendricks Home, Bane saw everyone huddled outside in a mass like animals trying to find shelter with each other. The teen runaways were staring silently up at the burning sky. Fred and Dolores Hendricks were near them, holding each other and shaking their heads. Out here, the reek of sulphur was strong enough to choke a person. Skidding to a stop, the Dire Wolf leaped out of his car and glanced over at the dead patch of ground. It was what he feared. The surface was bulging upward, swelling up as if something huge were about to break through an emerge. He had not disrupted the Kanut spell in time.
As they saw him, the Hendrickses rushed over. "What's going on? What does this mean?"
"All of you have to get away from here!" Bane yelled. "Go to the town. Tell everyone to evacuate the area. Everyone has to get asfar away as fast as they can."
"What's wrong with the sky?" screamed a girl.
"Everyone get going NOW! Your lives depend on it," he shouted. A tremor ran through the ground and some of them lost their footing. Bane began shoving them toward the cars parked by the barn. Two cars and a pickup truck, he thought, they should all be able to get in. He was almost throwing them at the vehicles, trying to get them in but they were near hysteria. The red light from the sky gave everything a nightmarish quality.
Fred Hendricks grabbed his sleeve. "Do you know what's going on? What IS this?"
"No time to explain," Bane said as he propelled the man toward a car full of distraught teenagers. "Head toward town. Try to get everyone you see to evacuate. Think of it as a volcano about to erupt."
A car pulled out and tore off down the dirt road, then the second one followed. Dolores was about to get behind the wheel of the truck when she called, "Jeremy, what about you?"
"Don't worry about me, just go!" The Dire Wolf slammed the door as she got in and gunned the motor. The truck made a circle in the dirt and roared off. Left alone, Bane glared angrily at the bulge in the dead area of the field. A single crack was running through it, and the brimstone stench was suffocating. The sky was blazing now, but there was no heat from it, just red light. He stepped closer to the dead patch. Under the collar of his turtleneck, he felt stinging pain as the Eldaran talisman he always wore tried to protect him from the harmful gralic force pouring over the area.
Bane tried to think of some way to stop this but he didn't know what he could do. The sheer power of a Sulla Chun had been enough to destroy even Khang a decade earlier. A sacrifice might satisfy the dread being beneath the ground, but Bane did not know any rituals or spells. He drew the silver daggers and saw their blades were shining as if reflecting spotlights. Well, he thought, at least I got the Hendrickses and those kids away from here. Maybe they would manage to get a few more townspeople out of range before the Great Old One rose. It was too late for him. Steam was rising from the crack in the ground and he felt another tremor beneath his boots. Horrible images began to fill his head as the influence of the Sulla Chun gave him waking nightmares.
Behind him, Bane vaguely heard an engine get closer and then turn off. As visuals of suffering people and leering demonic faces ran through his head, he managed to turn and saw the beat-up Dodge Ram right behind him. Jesse Redbone opened the driver's door and fell out, then got to his feet. His nostrils were packed with torn strips of cloth, his face and jacket were crusted with drying blood. The man's eyes rolled wildly as he stumbled over to grab Bane by the arms.
"I can't do it," he gasped, hardly able to breathe through the sulphur. "Not like this. I wasn't really expecting this."
"Well, it's a little late to change your mind," Bane answered coldly. "You just came down here to die."
Jesse Redbone took a deep shuddering breath. "Yes. Give me one of those silver blades."
Beginning to understand, the Dire Wolf handed over one of the daggers and nodded slowly. Redbone took the holy weapon and lurched unsteadily toward the chest-high bulge in the ground. By now, steam was gushing up and spraying boiling water. The earth was trembling under them. Redbone dropped to his knees and chanted in Kanut, but what he was saying could only have been understood by the three ancient sorcerers in the hills. With a sudden convulsive movement, Redbone raised the dagger in both hands and drove it suddenly into his own heart. With a sigh, he collapsed face down in the dirt.
As suddenly as that, the terror faded away. Steam trickled down to mere wisps. Overhead, the streaks of flame became fainter and the sky gradually turned from hot crimson to a softer maroon and eventually to its natural color. Bane fell down, surprising himself as his knees buckled. He was covered with sweat and his hands were shaking. Getting to a seated position, he caught his breath and watched as the world came back to normal. A breeze blew in from the south and he saw a bird fly overhead. It was over. He got to his feet, turned Redbone over and tugged out the knife. No matter what else happened, those silver daggers had been given to him by Kenneth Dred when he first entered the Midnight War and he would never part with them. Redbone's eyes were closed already and his face looked peaceful.
Eventually, Bane went to the barn and found a pickaxe and shovel. He buried Jesse Redbone by the crack in the ground, which started to seal as he worked. The bulge in the earth slowly lowered as flat as evening came. The Dire Wolf covered the new grave as best he could, scattering dirt from the road thickly over the entire dead patch. It would be getting dark soon. Going in the farmhouse, Bane took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat wearily on the porch to wait for everyone to return once they realized the danger was over.
VI.
Three days later, Bane had met with lawyers from the agency where his representative Taylor Worth worked. He bought the property outright, with the provision that Hendricks Home would be allowed to operate there as long as Fred and Dolores wished. Bane also left an annual fund for upkeep, and he had Taylor herself talk with the local representatives to Westco to make the situation clear. He seldom used the fortune he had inherited from Kenneth Dred for anything more than his own operating expenses but this was called for. Bane also had the dead patch covered over with cement three inches thick, without explaining why.
Before he left the area, the Dire Wolf drove up to the hills and looked for the three shamans. He found their robes and blankets lying in heaps, with only dry brown dust inside the fabric. He was not surprised. Their magick had kept them alive beyond the span they had been rightfully given. He burned the blankets and robes, scattered what remained of the sand painting and exhaled sadly as he went back down the path. He had suffered disturbing nightmares the first time he slept since the Sulla Chun had stirred but even those had faded.
One year later to the day, the Dire Wolf came back to Rio Soledad to check that everything was well. The Hendricks Home was thriving. Some of the teens had started a vegetable garden as the soil seemed to come back to life. Late that night, he stood by the cement which covered the dead earth and stood lost in thought. Jeremy Bane did not know any prayer to say for the dead, but he silently thanked Jesse Redbone.
4/9/2014