Tuesday, March 08, 2005

On the Warpath...Part 3

I watched as the young men began ascending at various points. Some took paths that allowed them to walk mostly upright, while a couple took to climbing at certain points, slinging their well-used rifles over their shoulders before they did so.

It took a good ten minutes before they were all up onto paths and ledges that were not obvious from down below. Soon, each of the six took out their tokens and began pushing through the previously invisible wards. Shifting my attention just slightly into the Spirit World, I could see the shimmering of the wards as each man approached, small flashes of brighter light as the wards were penetrated, probably alerting the owner to the passage of some creature through them. Hopefully, Mr. Clarksson’s tokens would serve their primary purpose and give off the false signals that would prevent him or her from knowing how many of us there were today.

As soon as the last man was out of sight, I started to get ready. I saw Herne pulling close the two men he was taking with him, probably giving some last minute instructions on how close they would follow behind me. I didn’t want to know the details myself, since there was a chance I could tip off any observers if I looked back at the wrong time. Better to be surprised with the bad guys, than to give away the surprise inadvertantly. Besides, what was there for me to worry about, other than whether John was OK? It’s not like they could kill me, or even cause me any pain. There were still certain advantages to being dead after all.

I avoided the temptation to send my spirit forward to recon the route ahead, I could tell from my brief look into the Spirit World that those wards were primarily spiritual in nature, which only makes sense if Papa Locks was involved.

I shuddered at my memories of that foul man. Of all the many weirdos that I have met through Drake, Papa Locks and El Diablito were the worst, besides Drake himself. What made El Diablito so scary was the fact that he looked most of the time like the wrinkled old grandfather you’d visit around the holidays and who would make sure to have all of your favorite treats when you visited, but when he put on his magickal personna, he transformed into this diabolical little maniac with a hideous cackling laugh and strange, prancing mannerisms.

Papa Locks on the other hand, always looked scary and enjoyed the fact that his appearance would bring people up short. His face was horribly scarred from some sort of ritual disfigurement, his normally dark complexion was mottled in places from where the scars were not allowed to fully heal. His teeth had been extensively worked on, with a pronounced enhancment of his ‘fangs’, giving him a feral look, matched apparently by his smell. I recall on a number of occasions members of the NecroLab crinkling their noses after he passed and making near gagging sounds, but no one did it where he could see that reaction. His long, heavily matted dreadlocks were a signature look that he enhanced with beadwork and various tokens tangled in the locks themselves, many of which had the weathered ivory look of old bones. Papa Locks also had the advantage of being very tall, probably over 6’6”, and of being built like an athlete, with large, strong hands and corded muscles that could be seen through his loose sleeved shirts.

I can remember a number of times early after I was brought back to awareness that Papa Locks would be meeting with Drake. One time I heard him begging for one of the previous officer’s bodies, he seemed to be claiming that he had some spirits he would love to give a chance at having a new body. I didn’t hear Drake’s response to that, but by Papa Lock’s reaction, it was probably not a yes.

My reverie was interrupted by Herne Clarksson approaching me, “OK Rusty, I think the others are far enough down that you can get going. Remember, we will be following behind you, but you likely won’t be able to see us, even if you do look back, but don’t worry, we’ll be within easy range of our wepons, should we need to use them.”

“Oh, I’m not to worried about that. I’ll keep pushing forward at a steady rate, if they start shooting, I might get off the ATV and advance on foot. I’m going to get to the house up there, and nothing they have will be able to stop me.”

“I figured as much,” he said. “They are holed up back there for a reason and you are that reason, I think, so be careful, I am sure they are well aware of your abilities and have something planned to deal with them.”

“Let’s not keep the bastards waiting then, eh?”

“Right, oh and one more thing. Take this with you.” He handed me a red looking gemstone of some sort. “If you find yourself in deep trouble, crush it in your hand, or on a hard surface and call out Ravyn Fyre’s name. It contains a very powerful spell that will reach out to her and enable her to help in some way.”

I took the small, translucent stone in my hand, admiring the bright, fiery spark seemingly aliv e inside the stone. “Thank you. Do you really think it will work this far away? She’s still in Chicago isn’t she?”

He grinned. “If you doubt her, you don’t know Ravyn very well yet. Don’t worry, it’ll reach her, and I am positive that she’ll be able to help in some meaningful way. Hopefully we don’t need to use that just yet, but you have it in case you do.”

I put the stone in the inside pocket of my leather jacket, hoping that it would be safe from any accidental breakage.

I mounted the ATV, started the engine and started towards the entrance to the ravine. Without looking back, I plunged through the warded area, feeling a slight, spiritual tingling as I did so. I could almost feel the virtual alarm going off into the direction I was already heading, warning the owner of my intrusion into his sacred space.

I started at a slow but steady pace up the dry riverbed. I could see in some of the sandier places that other vehicles had passed through here recently, but other than the fact that they looked like the tracks of bigger vehicles like SUV’s, I couldn’t tell much. The going was rough, even on an ATV, so I could only imagine that the SUV’s had to take it pretty slow as well. The riverbed was fairly wide at this point, but full of rocks and dips in the sand between the rocks.

The twisting riverbed soon took me beyond the sight of the reservation officers and the young men we left behind with them. I didn’t bother to look back for Herne and his helpers, or to look up in search of the snipers for either side above. I concentrated instead on finding the smoothest route up the riverbed that I could and on what I planned to do to Papa Locks in exchange for the beating I had seen him adminster to John.

It took about ten minutes of steady driving, with only the occasional backtracking to get through the first kilometer. I could see the riverbed starting to get deeper and narrower ahead, but there was a sandy bank riddled with tracks on the left hand side. It was obvious that this was the last best place to get up out of the riverbed onto the lefthand bank. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to gun the engine and get up on the bank when I saw the first bullets spray up dirt in front of me, apparently a burst of automatic gunfire in a salvo that was warning against continuing.

I looked up and to my right, hoping to spot the origin of the shooting. As I was doing that, the second burst of bullets started tinging off the ATV, one of which hit a tire, from the loud popping sound I heard and the shudder I felt. I leaped off the vehicle ducking towards a large rock that might offer some cover as I kept looking for the source. Finally I spotted a man in a dark suit, wearing reflective sunglasses (which glinted in the light, revealing his position). He was kneeling on a ledge about halfway up the right side of the ravine wall, he had moved from behind a large rock, apparently in order to get a better shot at me. Just as he was sighting down on me for the third burst, I heard a single, loud crack echo across the ravine from above and behind me just as he seemed to double over on himself and slump to the ground on his ledge. He didn’t move again.

I got out from behind my covering rock and went back over to my ATV. I could see fluid pooling beneath the thing, the front right tire was also useless. I pulled the little vehicle away from the embankment, since it would be in the way of any vehicle we might use to come back down the ravine and shoved it to the side. It was useless as far as I was concerned.

Checking out the ravine above and ahead of me for any further surprises, I started out again at a fast walk, following the obvious trail of the vehicles that had gone through here before me.

Another half a kilometer up the ravine I spotted another ledge, this time on the left side of the ravine. I could see two guys sitting up there making little attempt to hide themselves. They had what looked to be a very large caliber weapon sitting on a tripod in front of the closest guy. The other guys was using binoculars to get a bead on me. He spotted me about the same time I saw them, I could see the second guy pointing in my direction, and the first one bringing the weopon to bear on me.

I didn’t wait around to see how much damage a gun of that caliber could do, I dove behind a nearby rock that looked just big enough to give me some decent cover. I heard the thunderous discharge just as I hit the dirt, careful not to lay too much on the pocket containing Ms. Fyre’s gem in it. A spray of rock fragments and loud cracking sound told me that the rock I was hiding behind wasn’t going to survive too many rounds from that sucker.

I peeked my head up for a quick look to see how long it would take them to reolad that bad boy, and quickly ducked down again as I saw the muzzle flash before the booming bark of the discharge echoed througout the ravine again.

Again the rock I was hiding behind served its purpose, but I could feel that fragments blasting against the skin of my head, which meant that I wasn’t getting any prettier. I could see some carmelized fluid oozing off my forehead and onto my right eye lense, which I brushed off quickly.

I heard three smaller cracks from the opposite of the ravine. I looked up to see the shooter of the big gun fall back into his partner, his head exploding in red gush. His partner didn’t seem to mind too much however, as he was already splayed back against the ravine wall, binoculars dangling from his limp hand. Gotta give those kids credit, they are damn fine shots with those rifles.

I only hoped that this killing wouldn’t affect those young too much later on. Who knew if these goons would be missed, and whether or not there would be legal consequences to all of this mess. I had my doubts that this incident would ever make any news broadcast, let alone be the subject of an investigation. Who was actually behind all of this? Was it Drake? Or was Papa Locks striking out on his own here? Well, whoever was behind this, was gonna have to pay a price. And I was just about ready to exact that price on these bastards.

(To be concluded in On the Warpath...Part 4 tomorrow.)