On the Warpath...Part 4

I jumped up from behind the rock I had been hiding behind, dusted off, and got moving again. This needed to end, now.

When I was alive, I wouldn‘t have been able to keep this pace up for very damn long, but I surely didn’t need to worry about getting tired anymore. I wasn’t at all sure that Mr. Clarksson and his helpers could keep pace for very long either, but I felt an urgent need to get up the valley.

At a near jog, I came around the final bend in this crooked little crack in the mountains. I could make out the dilapidated building that must have once been a house or office of some sort at the end of the half-mile long straight away that was left. The sides of the canyon narrowed in ever so slightly, coming together in a jagged V at the end. The sliver of a riverbed split the area nearly in half, but it was pretty shallow at this point, and almost narrow enough to be able to jump. Slightly behind the house, there were several tin roof shacks in various states of disrepair. Finally, I could make out the three vehicles parked just past the sheds, between them and the opening to a large, squarish mine shaft that sunk into the mountain behind it. There were old piles of debris scattered around the mouth, but a clear path could be seen between the house and the mouth of the shaft.

My quick scan didn’t reveal any more goons laying in wait, so I resumed my march, heading towards the house.

I slowed down slightly as I approached the house, looking for any sign of recent occupation. All of the windows appeared to have long ago been broken, the grey of very old, weathered wooden boards showed through in most places, with only a hint of the antique white paint that once covered the place showing through. There were no tracks in the dust heading to the house, so I walked past it towards the area where the vehicles were parked.

Each of the trucks was sitting with its back to the end of the canyon, parked to facilitate a rapid exit should they be needed for it. I glanced into the windows of each of the Hummers, noting that they were unlocked, and that the keys were in the ignition. Confident bastards, I thought to myself. What’s to stop me from messing with them then? Just the kind of mind games that Drake would play.

There were a number of footprints leading from the vehicles towards the mine shaft, so I turned my attention to the that goal, about a hundred yards away and maybe 40 feet above the main floor of the canyon. The slag piles formed an almost symbolic honor guard as I made my way towards the gaping black maw of the shaft.

When I was perhaps thirty yards from the entrance itself, I heard that familiar deep, rumbling laugh of Papa Locks. I could see just a hint of movement up there as he called out in that gravelly Creole of his, “Sac passe, Monsieur Bones?”

He emerged from the inky blackness of the shaft, flanked by two dark suited men. The man on his left was carrying what looked to be a grenade launcher of some sort that was leveled squarely in my direction, while the guy on the right had what appeared to be a hi-powered sniper’s rifle with a massive scope on it. He was busy scanning the canyon walls beyond me. Perhaps they knew about my helpers. I hoped those boys had the sense to keep their heads down.

“Eat shit, you bastard, where’s John?”

He threw his head back in laughter, showing off his fangs, and then composed himself. “I see you have not grown any more mannered in your second life, Bones. Don’t worry, I have taken good care of your little Indian friend.” He held out his left hand, which I now noticed was holding something that sent my heart sinking--a chakra-like talisman dangled from his outstretched fingers, attached to a leather thong. “Here is part of his essence.”

I started forward, hands clenched in anger, but stopped short when the grenade bearing goon shifted his stance and seemed to take better aim.

“What have you done to him?!”

“He is a stubborn man, like yourself. He yet lives within,” he nodded towards the shaft behind him, chuckling. “He continues to resist my spiritual friends. But you can end his suffering, you know.”

“Why did you do this to him? Why did you want me so badly?”

“It is not me who wants you so much, it is your friend Drake. He has invested much in you. He doesn’t give up his investments so easily, you know.”

“He is the one who tried to kill me again. What more does that bastard want from me?”

“That, you will have to ask him yourself. Come with me peacefully and your friend John can be made whole again, ya.”

“Is Drake here?”

“No,” he smiled, his eyes almost twinkling in glee. “But I can take you to him.”

“Look, I’m not playing with you here, asshole. You have about 30 seconds before I come over there and rip your fucking head off.”

He stopped smiling. “Threatrs will not get you what you want, boy. You may have been taught something of how spirits work, but you are a mere child in that world. Even if you succeeded in getting close to me, I have any number of spiritual servants at my command who would be glad to have your very sturdy, very usable body.”

“It’s a good thing he isn’t here alone then,” said Herne as he stepped out from behind a nearby slag pile, rifle slung casually over his back. “So, why don’t you give us our friend back, and maybe you’ll be allowed to leave alive.”

Papa Locks sneered in Herne’s direction, “You think I am afraid of your animal magicks, Celt? You and your little group of do-gooders have interfered for the last time. Bones is our property, he always will be.”

“That’s it.” I lurched into action, moving towards the mineshaft. “No one owns me, asshole. I’m coming to get John and anyone who gets in my way is gonna b...”

A loud crack issued from the nearby canyon wall, interrupting both my voice and the grenade goon as he was getting ready to shoot. Unfortunately for him, the interruption was fatal as his forehead erupted in a shower of blood and brains. A second crack from the other wall caused an explosion of shards as the sniper to dodged to the side, pushing Papa Locks back into the darkness of the shaft.

The sniper was able to recover and get off one shot at a young man who was coming out from behind one of the Hummers, dropping him with a shoulder wound before falling dead from three nearly simultaneous shots from above. Herne and I reached the mineshaft about the same time, but I pulled him behind me, saying, “Use me for cover.”

A flick of my wrist dropped the collapsible baton in my hand, a quick snapping motion extending it with a solid click. I noticed that Herne was motioning for the other advancing young man to attend to the wounded one by the Hummer with his big hunting knife in the other hand.

It took only a moment for my eye lenses to adjust to the near total darkness of the shaft while I also found myself opening my spiritual eyes, looking for any magickal beings or traps that might have been laid for us.

The inside of the shaft was surprisingly wide and flat, sloping down gently into the mountain. Papa Locks was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry about me Rusty,” Herne said, whispering into my ear before moving to the righthand side of the shaft. “I have ways of seeing in this setting as well.”

“Very well, let’s get John.”

I started walking in the only direction that was possible, heading deeper into the mountain. We moved forward in silence, ready to face whatever came.

We both stopped momentarily when the shaft came to a fork. The sounds of a hoarse chant and a faint flicker of light led us to take the left passage, Herne hugging the right wall, me moving forward on the left wall.

The passageway was not straight, but curved slightly to the right, gradually opening into a small chamber. In the center of the chamber lay John’s body, bound in chains that were held fast into the stone beneath by large iron spikes. The far side of the room seemed to disappear in a deep shaft, but Papa Locks stood in front of that dark hole, his back to it fearlessly. He stood with his feet set wide apart, his arms held high, a soft chant emanating from his lips. His eyes shone white, creating the only visible light in the room. In his left hand, the chakra that he said held some of John’s essence still dangled from its leather thong . In his right hand, he held a small metallic box with a single large button protruding. His finger lay against the button, ready to push it.

As we moved into the room, his eyes dimmed slightly, his chanting stopped. “If you are thinking of rushing me, look around carefully. There is enough dynamite in this room to bring the mountain down on top of you and your friends.”

I glanced about the room and noticed the there were indeed bundles of dynamite strung out along the walls, piles of the stuff, all seemingly connected by cords. The cords seemed to gather in niche in the wall to the far right of Papa Locks where a digital clock blinked steadily at what looked a lot like fifteen seconds.

I heard Herne muttering under his breath in that same, rolling language I had heard him use before, so I decided to stall for time.

“OK, you got us asshole. What do we do now? If you push that button, we all die, you, me, John and everybody else down here. Is that what you really want?”

“Come with me now, and I will leave the Indian’s chakra with the Celt here for him to deal with. I am sure his do-gooder friends can eventually free him from his tortures.”

“Go where man? I don’t see any damn doors here, just a fucking hole in the ground.”

He laughed at this. “Fool, you know so little about what is possible. I can open a path of shadows between this place and where Drake is. He is waiting for you. Our patience is wearing thin with you boy.”

Herne’s spell seemed to have ended, so I took a step forward. “OK, you open that door, and I will go with you.”

I could hear the faintest sounds of chittering coming from behind Papa Locks, so I took another step forward, moving between him and John’s body until only a few feet separated us. I could sense Herne moving behind me and kneeling at John’s still twitching body.

A sudden whoosh of wind and wings erupted from the shaft behind Papa Locks as first hundreds, then thousands of bats rushed up from below. Chaos reigned as the bats quickly filled the room. Shouts of men who had, unknown to us, snuck up from behind only added to the chaos.

Grunts of pain and thuds of fist and hilt hitting flesh told me that Herne was addressing the new threat from behind, as I pushed forward to get to Papa Locks. His now empty left hand lunged forward at me, grabbing me by the neck as I lunged for his right hand and the box with the damn button.

In a rush I was thrown back as hundreds of spirits rushed through his hand and into my body as they pushed for control, their tortured voices crying out in pain and freedom simultaneously as they strove to force me from my own body.Never before had I felt such strange pressures as these spiritual entities assaulted me. I let go of his right arm, falling back against the onslaught.

Papa Locks stood upright, laughing triumphantly as he pushed the button. He then fell backwards into the shaft below, cackling out some sort of spell. A flash of spiritual power told me that he had probably made his doorway.

Meanwhile, in the haze of flying bats, assaulting spirits, and tumbling bodies behind me, I fell to the floor next to John. I could barely see the digital numbers counting down in that far niche. 12, 11 , 10...

I had just enough control over my body to reach in and grab the crystal in my jacket pocket, call out, “Ravyn Fyre!” and crush the stone.

9, 8, 7...

The fiery form of Ravyn’s Phoneix erupted from the floor in front of me, beuatiful wings of fire filling the room with bright orange light....Bats scattered or were incinerated...men fled or lay bleeding...

6, 5, 4....

Her angelic voice called out, “Herne, Rusty, come to John!”

3, 2, 1...

Herne dove to cover John’s body, yelling, “Son of a bitch...”

I rolled over, trying to shield both of them from the coming explosion...

A flash of unbelievably bright light and intense heat rolled over us as Ravyn covered us with her fiery wings just as the explosion ripped through the room in deafening roar that shook me to my very bones. There was a weird, wrenching feeling of space and time twisting which I assumed meant that I was being blown to smithereens.

When the flash ended, my face lay half-buried in quickly melting snow. My lenses fogged up from the sudden change in termperature. I could see trees, and stones, and sky!

“Men!” Ravyn said, standing over us momentarily, “The next time you need help, I’d appreciate it if you could do it when I’m not taking a bath!”

I had just enough sense to catch a glimpse of her shapely, naked backside as she stormed out of the circle of stones I now recognized from the Chicago co-op she had taken me too when we had met, her bare feet causing the snow underfoot to evaporate in steam as she stormed off to the house.

Blinking, I looked back to the equally stunned Herne, and the still twitching body of John, still in chains, but no longer bound to any stone floor. “How did she...?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I think I would give her chance to get dressed before I would go asking.” He grinned. “You couldn’t ask for prettier rescue than that though.”

I noticed that he held in his right hand the chakra that Papa Locks had been holding.

“Yeah, that was what I called on the bats for.” He looked around again at the setting, shivered. “Let’s get him inside and out of this snow. We can ask our questions later.”