The haunting of beverly.., p.49
The Haunting of Beverly Holden, page 49
But that was not what his ancestors had intended. He knew that. And now he knew what he must do. No matter the cost.
Running Water wheeled toward the front of his trailer and saw his grandson by the truck, smoking a cigarette.
“You shouldn’t do that to your body,” Running Water said.
Ben took another drag and then shook his head. “What are you going to do, Grandfather?” He kept his attention on the cigarette, the tip burning red, the trails of smoke vanishing quickly into the night.
Running Water wheeled toward his grandson. The boy was very much like his father. Too much like his father. Thick in muscles and even thicker in the head. But he had a good heart, despite the practiced grimace he wore to make himself look tougher. Another familial trait Ben inherited from his father.
Cigarette at the nub, Ben dropped the end to the sand and stomped on it with his foot for good measure. “I hope you’re not going to do something stupid.”
“How is Kara?” Running Water asked.
“Sleeping,” Ben answered, still stomping on the cigarette, though he was more playing with it now. “Same with the Holloway girls.”
“How are they holding up?” Running Water asked.
“Tired.” Ben finally let the cigarette butt alone and looked at his grandfather, crossing his arms. “How much longer are we going to do this?”
“Ben, I know you think—”
“No, you don’t.” Ben’s stern expression had set lines in his face. “What are you going to do, Grandfather, because I know that you don’t have the power to stop this curse.” He raised his eyebrows. “It’s the reason that you summoned that woman, why you asked for help.” His eyes watered and his voice cracked. “So, what are you going to do?”
Running Water reached for Ben’s hand and squeezed tight. “You must take care of your sister. Take care of the reservation. Even after this is done, Mulaney’s people won’t quit. You’ll—” He stopped when Ben stepped away. “Ben. Ben.”
“Why are you doing this? It’s over. They can’t win. Terry sent a letter to the EPA. Mulaney tortured and kidnapped Terry and his two daughters.” He walked toward his grandfather, pleading. “We don’t have to fight anymore.”
“I have to make things right,” Running Water answered.
“Bullshit,” Ben said.
Running Water reached for Ben’s wrist and yanked his grandson toward him, keeping a tight hold. “I’m not losing any more people to this curse, to this thing, do you understand me? And I’m not letting you and your sister risk any more.”
The hardened man in front of Running Water, the grandson who was a broad-shouldered giant, broke down and dropped to his knees.
Ben nodded, head still bowed. “I’m sorry.”
Running Water wiped the tears from his grandson’s face. “I know you think you and your sister will never have peace, but I promise you that it’s coming. To you, and to all of our people.”
Ben lingered for a little bit longer and then stood, walking away and into the desert until Running Water couldn’t see him anymore.
Running Water wheeled himself up the ramp and pushed open the door. Kara was asleep on the couch, curled up like she used to sleep when she was a girl. He watched for a moment, then wheeled toward the bedroom where the Holloway girls slept on the bed.
The sisters clung to one another in their sleep, and Running Water rolled toward the side, gently shaking Liz until she woke.
Liz lifted her head from the pillow, her eyes half closed and her voice groggy. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you.” He kept his voice quiet and then glanced at Maisie. “Alone.”
Liz nodded, and Running Water wheeled back toward the front porch while Liz attempted to sneak out of the bed without disturbing her sister.
Outside, he thought about what he should say, how he should say it. He was unsure if the girl would require any coaxing to return to another realm where her torture would be just as painful, tasked with an impossible mission.
Liz stepped out onto the porch, wide-eyed and alert, concern replacing fatigue. “What’s wrong?”
“There is a way to bring your mother back,” Running Water said. “Your father is too weak to make the journey, and your sister is too young.”
Liz was quiet for a moment, processing the old man’s words. “What do I have to do?”
“You will have to enter the same realm as your mother did to free you and your sister,” he answered. “You must bring back water from the Lake of Spirits.”
Liz nodded, but her face sagged with the realization of what that meant. “You’re sure it will work?”
Running Water wanted to reassure the girl, but the path ahead held no certainty. “It’s the only thing I know to try.”
Liz crossed her arms and then looked back to the trailer. Her gaze lingered on it for a minute, and then she turned around. “Tell me what I have to do.”
“Go to the tent,” He said. “Talk to your father. He is awake. I’ll bring your sister back to you in a minute. Give you all some time to spend together.”
Liz simply nodded, then walked around back.
After she left, Running Water lingered on the porch. He still didn’t truly know if the girl would succeed, and even if she did, he did not know if his plan would work.
But as a descendent of the great puhagante who brought on the curse, he wanted to help heal the family that he had fractured. They had played their part in helping to right the wrongs against his people. Now it was his turn to right the wrongs he had brought against the Holloway family.
Liz sat with her father, who had gained enough strength to at least remain awake, and the pair held hands. The old man had kept his word, giving the father and daughter a moment before bringing Maisie into the tent.
She was tired and confused, but Liz and Terry kept telling her that everything was all right, and that they’d be okay when all of this was done.
“Don’t go, Lizzy,” Maisie said, flinging her arms around her waist.
And while Liz was able to keep calm, her father broke down at the sight of his youngest daughter’s plea.
“I’ll be right here,” Liz said, gently removing Maisie’s arms and holding her little hands in her own. “But there is something that you can do for me.”
“What?” Maisie asked.
“When I’m sleeping, I want you to keep hold of my hand. That way I’ll always know that you’re still with me. Can you do that for me?”
Maisie nodded.
“Good.” Liz kissed the top of Maisie’s head and whispered in her sister’s ear. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
When Liz hugged her father one last time, she whispered the same endearing response, but he still hadn’t recovered from sobbing. He only nodded and mouthed the words back at her. He squeezed her tight, and while his body was still in pain from the abuse at the hands of Mulaney and his men, he didn’t want to let go.
It was Liz who finally broke their hold, and then she lay down next to her father on a separate mat that the young doctor had provided. The tent was still filled with the injured, but there still seemed to be more than enough space for all of them to fit neatly inside.
The mat was cool against her back, and from her position inside the tent, she saw the first few rays of dawn pierce through the cracks in the flap at the front of the tent. And while she shivered, it wasn’t from the coolness of the ground beneath her.
Liz laughed lightly to herself. “I can’t stop shaking.”
Maisie appeared at her side and firmly grabbed hold of her sister’s hand. “I’m right here.”
And while Liz smiled from her younger sister’s gesture, she was surprised to find that she no longer trembled. With Maisie holding her left hand, her father reached for her right.
“We’re both right here.”
Liz stifled a whimper and simply nodded as the medicine man positioned himself at the head of the matt, hovering above her in his wheelchair, holding a wooden bowl with both hands.
“You will travel far,” Running Water said. “And you will see many things. But to find your family’s salvation, you must face what you fear.”
He lowered the bowl to Liz’s lips and she drank until the bowl was empty. She wasn’t sure when it would hit her, or how she would tell she had entered another realm, but her heart began to race.
There was so much more she wanted to do, so much more she wanted to say to her dad and sister, too much had gone left unsaid. But when she opened her mouth to speak, there were no words. And then the canvas above her darkened until everything transformed to black.
Michael Night Wolf walked out onto his front porch just before dawn, the way he did every morning, piping hot mug of coffee in his left hand and his Kindle tablet in his right. He sipped from the stained rim of the white mug, scorched black from thousands of cups of coffee it had held.
With his eyes on the Kindle, Michael navigated the well-worn path from the door to the porch rocking chair and sat down without spilling a single drop of coffee.
The morning ritual of stories and coffee had been instituted by his late wife, which he continued even after she passed. It was his simple way to remain connected to her, even though the second rocking chair had remained empty for the better part of a year.
He’d retired from practicing law full time and volunteered his time to cases involving people in the tribe who needed it.
He’d thought of moving, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the reservation. He’d grown up here, became a man here, and had fought to keep what little land his people had left in their grasp.
His house was near the front of the reservation’s entrance from the highway. In a way, he had become the community’s unofficial greeter and information hub for anyone wandering onto the reservation, either by mistake or as first timers.
But while Michael greeted most visitors with a laid-back, friendly demeanor, he had also been gifted with the responsibility of being the watchdog. Because for every decent person that came onto the reservation, there were a dozen bad folks that wandered in after them.
And those folks were not greeted with a friendly wave, or helpful direction. Instead he showed them the twelve-gauge he kept propped up by the front door. One pump usually did the trick to send them running.
Most of the time it was just high school kids from town, drinking, smoking, and howling at the moon. The sound of the weapon was enough to send them back to their suburban homes with their tails between their legs and a story of the crazy, bloodthirsty Indian with a gun.
But despite his role as first protector, Night Wolf had never enjoyed fighting. He didn’t have the taste for it. He liked reading. Taking walks.
With the morning sun peaking higher above the eastern horizon behind him, a ray of light flashed over a windshield in the distance, catching Michael’s eye, and he immediately set the Kindle and coffee aside as he pushed himself up from the chair.
Three black SUVs, all with tinted windows, moved quickly down the highway and then slowed as they turned toward the reservation.
Michael had seen the vehicles before and knew they belonged to Mulaney. He rushed back inside the house and then reached for the phone, dialing Running Water.
Phone pressed to his ear, he pulled back the curtains as the SUVs moved closer. “Pick up, you old coot.”
After the seventh ring, Michael set the phone down and headed for the door, picking up a box of shotgun shells from the kitchen drawer along the way. He grabbed the twelve gauge, stepped outside, and moved swiftly toward his truck parked on the far side of the house.
He heaved the door open, set the weapon and the ammunition in the passenger seat, and then climbed inside, knowing that it would take more than the sound of the pump action on the twelve-gauge to scare off Mulaney’s men.
The throbbing in Kara’s head had dulled while she slept, but it was the high-pitched ring of the telephone that woke her up. It blared loudly and defiantly as she struggled to get up. By the time she managed to get upright, the call ended.
Kara cradled her head, trying to remember where she was, the events of the past few hours slowly returning to her.
They had rescued the Holloway girls, and then pulled Terry Holloway out of Mulaney’s grasp, reuniting the family back at the rez. She was in her grandfather’s trailer, and she remembered glimpses of the escape from Mulaney’s facility, her memories fragmented from the blow to the head.
Kara kept her eyes shut for a minute, and then stood. She took a few steps, testing her balance, and when she didn’t crash to the floor, she walked outside.
It was still night, or early morning, she couldn’t be sure, but the air was chilly and she rubbed her arms, shivering as she walked down the ramp and onto the sand.
“You’re up,” Ben said.
Kara squinted at the truck and was barely able to make out Ben’s figure in the truck bed where he sat on the tailgate. She walked toward him, watching him stare out into the night. “What are you doing out here?”
“Grandfather is in the tent with the Holloway family,” Ben said. “The oldest daughter is passing through the spirit realm. You were sleeping inside, and I didn’t want to disturb you so…” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d wait out here.”
Kara climbed up onto the tailgate, sitting next to her brother. “It’s freezing.”
“Yeah,” Ben said.
Kara leaned against her brother, his shoulder warm, but he stank of smoke. She glanced at the ground and saw the cluster of cigarette butts. “I thought you stopped that.”
Ben shrugged. “I fell off the wagon.”
The fog of sleep nearly gone, Kara glanced up to the night sky, which was riddled with stars. “Say what you want about the hot, dry days, but you can’t beat a desert night.” She smiled, remembering all of the times that she had wandered the night as a girl. It was freeing being out in the open, alone with nothing but your thoughts. But it had been a long time since she’d walked the desert at night.
“Grandfather has something planned,” Ben said. “I don’t know what it is yet.”
“Of course he does,” Kara said. “He’s trying to help Amy.”
Ben shook his head. “He’s planning on doing something stupid. I can feel it.”
Kara was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded. “I thought he might.”
Ben turned toward her. “What do we do?”
Kara drew a breath, the air freezing her lungs and throat. “We trust him.” She turned to her brother, who wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “It’s the only thing we can do, Ben.”
Ben hopped off the tailgate, crushing the cigarette butts into the sand, and crossed his arms, keeping his back to her. “I thought that you’d have something better than that.”
Kara sighed. “It’s his choice. Just like it was our choice to go and help the family. Like it was our choice to stay on the reservation. Both of us could have left a long time ago. But we didn’t. This is our home.” She glanced up at the stars. “For better or worse.”
Ben finally turned, tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to lose him.”
Kara slid off the tailgate and embraced her brother. “Hey, it’s all right. We’re not going to lose him.”
“Yes, we are,” Ben said, squeezing her back. “Just like Mom and Dad. Just like our home. We always lose.”
Kara leaned back, staring at her brother. “Hey. This fight is almost over. We just have to keep pushing a little further. That’s all. Remember what Dad used to say? It’s always hardest when you can see the end.”
Ben nodded.
Kara smiled, then looked down the dirt road that led to the paved path cutting through the reservation. “Oh my god.”
Ben turned around at the same time and saw the same three pairs of headlights speeding toward them. The vehicles were difficult to see in the darkness, but they appeared to be SUVs.
“Shit,” Ben said.
Kara backpedaled toward her grandfather’s hut. “Ben, grab the rifles from the trailer. Now.” She turned, sprinting toward the hut, her head throbbing.
Kara dove headfirst into the hut, finding Terry and Maisie by Liz and her grandfather off to the side. “We need to leave, now.” She positioned herself at Liz’s feet, grabbing the girl’s ankles.
Terry kept hold of Liz’s hand. “What’s going on?”
“They’re coming,” Kara answered. “Mulaney’s men.”
Even with the dried blood and bruises, Kara saw the blood drain from Terry’s complexion.
“We need to get her in the truck, keep her moving.” Kara waited, growing impatient as Terry remained motionless. “Now, Terry.”
Kara and Terry lifted Liz, both struggling from their injuries, and moved as fast as they could. Kara shuffled backwards as fast as her feet allowed, almost crashing both her and Liz into the sand. She looked toward her grandfather, who still stood in the same position as she left him, watching the convoy draw nearer.
“Keep her as still as you can,” Running Water said, finally trailing them with Maisie. “She’s in a fragile state.”
Kara balanced Liz as she lifted the truck’s passenger door handle with a restricted left hand. She plucked it loose and then kicked the door open, sliding her inside.
“Gently,” Running Water said.
Ben rushed out of the trailer, rifles clutched in his hand as he headed for the driver side door. He placed one of the rifles in the truck bed and then loaded a magazine into the other. “Shit, they’re on the dirt road.”
Finished with Liz, Kara turned back to the road, watching the SUVs kick up sand on their path toward the trailer.
“Get Grandfather,” Kara said, reaching into the truck bed and grabbing the rifle. She winced reaching for it, then looked to Terry. “Put Maisie in the cab. You’ll have to ride in the back with me and Grandfather.”
