Shine Part Ii Final

PART II

The Night Tyrants

Arrogant shadows of evening crept quietly over the grassy meadow high on the mountainside, and patchy silver clouds above moved doggedly in a southeastern path, cooling the mountain air. The quiet was not to last, however, for this was the portion of day, as if timed by some inexplicable universal clock, when dozens of dutiful dark crows again transverse the sky. Soon the dozens become hundreds, flapping and cawing their way to nest. It is no wonder that their ageless routine has fed the imaginations of mythological wizardry and lore since the time that early humanity set foot upon North American soil.

Chapter 1 Feeling the chill, Shine buttoned his denim jacket and turned up the collar. With an old bow in his hand and several sharp flint-tipped arrows held in a deerskin quiver, all of which Shine’s grandfather had crafted long ago, he walked the familiar trails around the cabin for a bit over an hour. He was not hunting. He was there because he simply wanted to experience his boyhood again. Remembered was each aged tree and every well-traveled trail. Pausing at a clear place in the hillside trail, he stopped and sat on a log bleached gray from decades of

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exposure. From there he had an unobstructed view of the cabin and the grassy meadow below. The perplexities that currently subjugated his mind, pressed against and traded preeminence with the youthful adventures that he preferred to remember. Rarely won unaided are such wars within one’s spirit. His grandfather, who had been a faithful influence in his early life, had impressed upon him much of his thoughts, one of which was that worry and fear must be contained and changed into plans and actions. Shine knew that this was such a time for him. He knew it; he just did not know if he were ready for it. Father God, you know what is in my heart. I just want things to be as they were. I have seen too much trouble in the world and I just want it to go away. This place is the closest thing to heaven I have ever known. I need Gramps – maybe now more than ever. I know that he is getting old, but that doesn’t mean his work is done. When he talks about me taking over after he is gone, it scares me. When I have children of my own, I want them to know Grandfather. Just keep him safe, okay? That’s all I’m asking; that and some help with the trouble that’s going on…and Sarah – I want to find her and see that she gets back home. I guess that’s all. The mission ahead, the expectations of others, the questioning of his own abilities – all weighed upon his mind. The wishing-that-everything-will-work-out approach would not be enough. The stakes were too high to take carelessly. Despite all the planning and training that goes into such a venture, he relied on something bigger and wiser than he to help him pull it off. It had helped him in other tight situations and it would help him with this one.

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Shine had full authority to proceed as he deemed best, because he was the most qualified for the mission. His grandfather, Andrew Darkcloud, would provide him with ample expertise and backup. Other than Gramps, a few good men were all that was necessary. He raised his head and scanned the familiar surroundings. Across the field, bluegray smoke curled and climbed from the cabin’s fieldstone chimney. This was where he belonged – home. All the other places he had seen; the busy streets of New York City, the mysterious expanse of Asia, the mansions and deserts of the Middle East, the lights of Las Vegas – all so impressive to him as a soldier and traveler, were of little worth compared to this, his boyhood home. A gray squirrel chattered in an oak tree twenty feet or so from where he sat and dropped an acorn shell to the ground. The furry little chatterer climbed down the tree headfirst and stopped to inspect Shine, the forest visitor. “Want to share some of those acorns with me, little guy?” Shine said softly. “Let’s go into business together, what do you say? You collect ‘em and I’ll sell ‘em, and then we’ll buy a house in town.” Its curiosity apparently satisfied, the squirrel jumped to the ground and ran up the side of the next oak. As it bounded, its flossy tail was turning and twitching like pompoms in the hands of a bouncy cheerleader. Just watching the little fellow skidder and scamper lifted Shine’s spirits. He checked his watch. It was 4:42 P.M. and about time to return to the cabin. He just had one more thing to do first. He took out his cell phone and punched in the numbers.

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Chapter 2 “Harry. It’s me, Shine.” “Hey, what’s up? Where ya been keeping yourself, Shine?” “Here and there. Say, Harry, what if I told you that I have a primo 48 Indian Chief?” “I’d say that you’re either lying to me, or you must be the luckiest guy on the planet! Are you serious?” “I’m serious, Harry. But get this – it has less than a hundred miles on it!” “I’d like to see that! You know that if you’re planning to ride it, you’ll have to go all through it with new seals and gaskets, don’t you?” “I was hoping to talk you into doing that, Harry.” “When? “Can you send somebody up here tomorrow? I need it yesterday.” “Sure. Where are you at, Ol’ Buddy?” “I’m at my grandfather’s place.” “I’ll come up with a trailer myself. That thing’s worth its weight in gold. You’ll be there, won’t you?” “I’ll be here. I’ll fax you directions. It’s up here close to Hopland.” “No problem, Shine. It’ll be good to see you again.” “You too, Harry. By the way, I’d like for you to do a couple of other things for me while you have it in your shop.” “Sure thing. What do you need?”

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“Well, since you’re going to have it all apart anyhow, I want you to juice it up a little – but keep it looking stock.” “How fast you want it?” “I need to be able to keep up with some modified Harleys. Maybe you can check out the gear ratios and rework the cylinder heads. If you could modernize the brakes – maybe new shocks and tweak the suspension a bit.” “No problem. Is that a 74 cubic inch engine or an 80?” “It’s an 80.” “I got just the thing. You’ll be able to blow those Harleys away unless they’ve been modified within the last year or so. The newest technology that’s out is not only effective, but it’s nearly bullet proof. That Chief will look the same when I’m through with it except I may have to fit it with some after-market shocks and exhausts. You’re going to see a difference in the brakes, too. I’ll get it all polished up for you – leave it mostly stock – and replace the old tires with some 150 mph plus tires.” “I don’t plan to ride that fast, Harry. At least I hope not.” “You never know. But with a fast bike like that, you need the best tires you can get. Some of these yo-yos juice up their engines and don’t do nothing to improve their brakes and tires…have to scrape them off the road later.” “I trust you, Harry. You’re the best! If you can, I’d like the quietest mufflers you can get – something that won’t attract much attention.” “That should be pretty easy. I’ve got just about everything I need right here in my shop,” Harry replied. “What I don’t have, I can get overnight.” “Just do what you think is best. I’ll fax you directions tonight and meet you on the

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road tomorrow.” “You got it, Shine. See you then.” Shine put his cell phone back in his pocket and picked up the bow. He had not planed to shoot anything with it; he just brought it along because when he was a boy, he carried it with him anytime he was in the woods. His grandfather had taught him not to kill except for food or for protection. He had never felt threatened by any wild animal. When on rare occasions when he had seen predators in the forest, they dropped out of sight as soon as they were aware of his presence. But things change. Even his grandfather, who was the most judicious of men, was wary of those new animals, the Diweda-hayus.

Chapter 3 Andrew was standing at the stove stirring a pan of bubbling gravy when Shine opened the front door of the cabin. It had been a long time since Shine had smelled the tantalizing aroma of roast venison and gravy. “See anything?” his grandfather said without looking around. Shine knew what he meant. The moondogs were on the minds of everyone, even before the first attack. “No, just a couple of deer and about a dozen gray squirrels. What do you make of it, Grandfather? It’s got me stumped. What do you think makes them shine in the moonlight? Is it a kind of paint or chemical?” “I’m thinking,” Andrew Darkcloud said. “I’m not ready to say for sure. Have you heard anything about the leader of the pack?” “I have heard that he’s quite a bit bigger than the rest – that he looks a lot like a

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hyena on steroids. That’s enough to keep me spooked. I don’t know that an arrow would stop him, and all that I brought with me is a little 38 Special. Maybe I’d better call in a request for something heavier.” “No need to, Shine. I’ve got plenty of guns downstairs. You can just take what you need.” Andrew Darkcloud took the roast out of the oven and placed it on the top of the stove. Shine washed at the sink and dried his hands on a towel. He took the plates out of the cupboard and set the table. Andrew had not had a guest at his cabin for several weeks. Having his grandson there with the Holidays coming up was the best gift a man could have. Although the Darkcloud family was rife with relatives, he had raised Shine as his own. The bitterest day of Andrew Darkcloud’s life was when a drunk driver forced his son, Andrew Jr. and Shine’s mother, Monica, off the narrow highway. Their car plunged over the embankment and crashed into the rocks below beside the river. Only the infant survived. Shine was only a year old at the time. The only thing that saved him was his mother’s arms locked tightly around his small body. From that time, Andrew took little Samuel James into his home and raised him as his own son. As Samuel grew, the pair was so much alike that when he looked at his grandson, he could see himself as he was as a young man. He cut a few generous pieces of roast and laid them on a platter along with the baked potatoes. The vegetables were in a bowl and hot rolls were in a basket covered with a cloth napkin. He put the food in the middle of the table and announced, “Supper time.”

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Chapter 4 “Shine, you remember the Dasons, don’t you?” The old man and Shine were cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the dishes. “Tom Dason. Sure, I remember him. They lived on the cemetery road then. He used to give me guitar lessons. How’s he doing now?” “Pretty good,” Mr. Darkcloud said. “They have a boy – he’s a teenager now – fourteen or fifteen. He reminds me of you a lot. He was here a few days ago.” The old man stowed the pans in the cabinet and wiped down the counter. “He’s quite a boy. He was trying to find where those crazy dogs were holed up. The problem was that while he was looking for them, that big Diweda-hayu was trailing him. He climbed up a tree and was there all night. I had Peaches go bring him to the cabin.” The little dog looked up when she heard her name, turning her gaze toward the man and then to Shine. “Are you sure it was the moondog? Shine asked. “I’m not saying that I doubt it, I just want to be sure I’m getting my facts straight.” “It was. I saw him myself. He’s an ugly devil.” “Could that one be the same one that was leading the pack when they killed that man in the casino parking lot?” Shine asked. “From Roberto Nunez’s description, I would say yes.” “You saw him, but you didn’t kill him? Grandfather, you always have your bow with you.” “I sure thought about it, but I decided against it. He’s our ticket to the rest of the pack. Without him they may scatter, and we would be in bigger trouble than we are now.”

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They finished in the kitchen, went to the front room, and sat near the fireplace. “When you do see the big one, you won’t ever forget him. In the daylight he’s the color of a gray wolf like the one that used to hang out up at Pine Tree Ridge, but when he’s in the moonlight he takes on a phosphorescent look – a whitish green color. I was watching him in the moonlight, but about a minute after the moon was behind a cloud and it was dark again, the animal’s shine faded.” “Do you have any idea what makes it do that, Grandfather?” “I don’t want to make a guess just yet. I’m hoping you can do some investigating on your own. If I give you my opinions, I might just get you started in a wrong direction.” The old man got up and took a candy wrapper off a shelf. “Jolon Dason brought me this. He got it off the tree that he spent the night in. The crazy thing was jumping as high on the tree as he could. He caught the boy’s boot heel – just bit it right off. So while he was jumping up the side of the tree at the boy, this hair got caught in the bark.” “It just looks like some shaggy dog’s hair to me,” Shine said. “But take it outside and look at it in the moonlight,” the old man suggested, “then tell me what you think.” Shine carefully took the hair out of the candy wrapper and cupped it in his hand. Outside the cabin, the silver moon washed the landscape in a muted light and cast long shadows upon the ground. He opened his hand, careful that a puff of wind did not blow away the tufts of hair. As they peered at it, it looked as ordinary as it did inside the cabin. “We need to see it in the direct moonlight,” his grandfather suggested. They walked a few paces into the open field and into the direct moonlight. Opening his hand

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once more, they waited and watched as the hair began to change. At first, just the tips were shining, but then the light spread until all the hair in Shine’s hand began to change.

Chapter 5 “Know what I think, Grandfather?” The old man took his time, still studying the light within Shine’s cupped hand, “Maybe,” he said pensively. “This whole situation opens the door to quite a few premises. Tell me what you’re thinking.” “If we hunt them down at night when the moon is bright,” Shine said, “they will be easy to spot, but they will also be more dangerous. That scenario puts us at a disadvantage, because they own the woods at night.” “In the old days we had plenty of skilled hunters,” The old man said, “but now there are very few. We are going to need some young men who know the woods, and have the courage to do what seems impossible. It’s a dangerous business.” “Gramps, those dogs are going to hole up during most of the day and come out when the sun goes down, so if we find their dens, we find them. “Yes,” Andrew Darkcloud agreed. “About the best we can do now is to encourage the people to stay indoors at night and set up guards.” Shine felt the chill of the night air and shivered. Just the thought of meeting one of those animals in the dark was daunting enough. Back inside the cabin, the old man poured them each a mug of hot black coffee, which they carried with them. Andrew led the way between the bedrooms to the end of the hall. On the left wall of the hall, he pushed hard on one of the rough boards, causing a

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section of the wall to move outward a few inches. Shine took hold of the outer edge of the wide door and pulled it the rest of the way open. Inside was a staircase that led to the rooms below.

Chapter 6 Shine followed his grandfather down the stairs and into a cubicle about the size of a small bedroom. The room was bare except for doors and cabinets where was kept an assortment of tools and weapons. Behind an insulated and sealed door at the right end of the room was a second diesel powered generator system that provided an ample supply of electricity for the cabin should the old man ever need to stay underground for any length of time. Directly across from the staircase was a dark steel door. Andrew unlatched the hasp and pulled the door open. Inside was a room about twenty-five feet square. From there, other rooms branched out to complete an underground shelter. Smooth unpainted cedar wood covered the thick concrete walls, creating an aromatic and more welcome environment. A bare cement tunnel, five feet wide by seven feet high, continued from there. Its exit was in the tool shed by the orchard. Branching from the tunnel were some twentytwo rooms, most of which were simple living quarters, while the others were mostly storage rooms. The facilities had been skillfully designed underground hideouts during the slavery days of the 18th century. Native Americans, on the run from Russian slave owners, found safety there beneath the ground. Few of the Russian trappers followed the runaways onto the mountain. Those

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who did were never seen again, for hidden along the trail were warriors whose swift, soundless arrows stopped and silenced the barbaric intrudes on the spot. The only signs of the fur traders left were occasional Pomo Indian men seen wearing Russian hats or boots, and armed with European weapons. Soon after Andrew Darkcloud inherited the property from his father, he employed the skills of local Native Americans to modernize the underground hideaways as a place to keep the accused safe awaiting a public trial. As time went by and civil rights improved, there was less need of the hideouts. Andrew, however, reasoned that it cost him very little to keep the rooms in good repair. Entering the main room, he turned on the light. Tan epoxy paint covered the floor and the thick walls were covered with planed cedar boards from floor to ceiling. Shine remembered the pleasing aroma of the cedar and the alluring mystery of the secreted rooms. On the left side of the room was an office workstation equipped with two phones, three computers, and about a dozen flat screen security monitors. There was a large monitor directly in front of the long desk and smaller ones along each side and above. Andrew did not see a need for any more than the bare necessities. He had however, designed the basement to serve as an emergency shelter. While Andrew turned on the security monitors, Shine took a chair on the opposite side of the room and booted up a computer. He pulled up a map of his grandfather’s property and typed in driving instructions. When he was finished, he faxed the information to Harry in Emeryville. He turned his desk chair around and sipped his coffee while he watched his grandfather scrutinize the security cameras.

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“What do you have there, Grandfather?” Shine asked. “Anything important?” Andrew was examining the monitors and switching them alternately to the larger screen to get a better view. One by one, he examined them. “No,” he said. “Right now there’s nothing unusual going on. I’ll know more when I play back the tapes.” Back to the keyboard, he typed in commands and the screens began to flicker. “Just a bit,” he said to Shine, “and we’ll have it.” They waited for the computer to look for recent activity from the motion sensitive cameras that were located throughout the property. The monitors came back to life again and together the men watched the screens. “The picture is a little blurry,” the old man said, leaning forward and squinting at the screen. I meant to check the cameras, but I didn’t get to it.” “How many security cameras do you have on this place, Gramps?” “Thirty six that work and three that don’t. Sometimes rodents chew on the wires. Shine, you might remember that we installed one camera that was twenty feet up in a tree down by the pond. When I saw it wasn’t working last year, I went to check on it and it had been torn down,” the old man said. “I figure it was a raccoon, but I can’t say for sure. It was pried apart. I found it under the tree.” “The way I remember, we hid those cameras pretty well,” Shine offered. “We did,” Grandfather affirmed, “but you can’t hide anything from a ‘coon.” Recent cold and wet weather, and perhaps water or dust on the camera lenses had caused the picture to blur and distort. The usual critters kept showing up on the screen. They saw deer, raccoons, and squirrels for the most part. A bobcat caught Shine’s

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attention, but it was merely passing by one of the cameras. For ten or fifteen minutes, they watched, and then the old man exclaimed, “Whoa, wait a minute. There’s something.”

Chapter 7 Andrew switched to the larger screen. The grainy black and white resolution made it difficult to separate and identify the images within the picture. The old man, however, had developed a practiced eye for catching shapes that did not fit the landscape. He pointed to a man in the shadows dressed in all black, standing at a distance from the camera. He had what resembled a large cell phone in his right hand. They watched as he spoke into the device. “Could you fast-forward it, Gramps?” Shine said. “I’d like to see what he’s up to.” Concentrating on the screen, they waited as the tape sped forward. Then they saw it. “There it is! Shine exclaimed excitedly. His grandfather backed it up, and hit play again. The animal came into view about fifty feet away from its handler. “Look at that! That’s what we’re up against,” Shine exclaimed. “Talk about training, that guy knows his business! Can we get a closer look?” The old man zoomed in on the dog and saved the image. His practiced hands moved adeptly across the keyboard, sharpening the picture until the features of the animal were discernable. “Can we see where he is on the map?” Shine asked. His grandfather brought up an aerial map of his property on the large monitor. A small green light flashed on the

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southeastern corner. “He’s near the highway,” Andrew said. “That’s where he parked when he went to find the dog.” “See if you can zoom in on him.” The man in black appeared on the screen once more and they watched as he zoomed in closer. Andrew enhanced the image until they could see his face. Shine took a memory chip out of his shirt pocket and handing it to his grandfather, said, “Let’s see if this is the same guy that I saw at Hopland. Andrew inserted the chip into the computer and loaded the images. Together they examined the pictures. They showed the half-dozen mismatched dogs running to the van and jumping in. They compared a close up of the man’s face and knew beyond a doubt that it was the same man. “There!” Shine exclaimed. “See that? “It’s a star,” the old man observed, “in your picture and now from my security camera. I don’t like the looks of that, Shine. Look at how that star is hanging.” “I see what you mean, Gramps. It’s hanging from between two points – a pentagon – the symbol of a goat’s head.” I think this is serious, don’t you?” “Yeah, Gramps, we’d better call it in. I know what they will say, though. It won’t change anything, but it might help get a better handle on who we’re dealing with.” “There’s something about that van,” the old man was saying, “I’ve seen it before.” “Yes,” Shine agreed, “And I have a feeling that when we find where that van goes, we will also discover who is mixed up in this. We already followed up on its

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registration, but that didn’t tell us much. They’ve covered their tracks pretty well on paper.” They turned off the monitors and shut the door behind them. Shine’s grandfather opened a cabinet in the entry and took out a very large handgun. “Shine, you know that I’ve been to Israel many times.” “Yes, you said that you were interested in their military and security.” “They are known to have the best homeland security intelligence in the world. I guess that since I had worked closely with David Ben-Gurion, they invited me back every few years to lecture. For whatever it was worth, they seemed to appreciate it. So about twenty years ago they presented me with this gun. It’s a 50 caliber Desert Eagle – it’s one of the most powerful semi-automatic handgun you will find. I figure since you know guns pretty well, you would know that these weapons had a problem; they tended to not feed the cartridges from the clip properly. Well, this one has been worked over. It won’t jam on you, and it will stop anything in its tracks. Shine took the gun and felt its balance and weight. He had never seen one before but he knew of their reputation. The FBI once considered issuing them, but passed over them because of their size and weight. By the ornate engraving on its sides, it was obviously one-of-a-kind. Worked into the engraving on its right side was the name, Chief Andrew Darkcloud, and then in smaller print read, Faithful Friend of Zion. Meanwhile, the old man selected its holster, which he had made for the gun. It was complete with a specially designed belt that fit over the shoulder and around the chest. An ordinary belt would not hold the heavy gun properly. Shine tried the belt on and

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slipped the big gun into the holster. He adjusted the belt and said, “This is perfect, Gramps. You know, you amaze me more all the time!” The old man smiled at the compliment and handed Shine two extra clips and a box of fifty of the powerful cartridges. “Now it’s time for you to amaze me,” he replied, “by getting that pretty Indian princess back to her parents safe and sound.”

Chapter 8 It was about 10:30 that morning and still a bit cool. Shine was talking to Sonny and Terry beside the gym when the silver Chevy van pulled up beside them. On the side was ornate gold and black lettering that read Harry’s Harleys. Harry rolled down the window and said, “Anybody here looking for a red Indian Chief?” It had been less than a week since Harry picked up the motorcycle, so Shine was surprised to see his old friend so soon. “That would be me!” Shine said. “You can park your van right over there,” he added, pointing to a parking space. Harry pulled into the space and shut off the engine. Shine followed the van and opened the driver’s door. “Harry, my man, let’s see what you brought me.” Harry stepped out of the van and gave Shine a bear hug, lifting his feet off the ground. He set him back down saying, “Are you saying that you’re more excited about seeing that old bike than you are your old buddy?” He moved around to the back of the van and unlocked the doors. Shine hurried over where Harry was to help him open the van’s rear doors. “Cool down, partner,” Harry said, not trying to hide his amusement. “It’s in there, don’t worry.

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We’ll have it out in a minute.” “Harry, you’re as slow as a snail. Just move out of the way and let me get it out.” Harry purposely took his time and let Shine wait. Harry was enjoying the suspense. Sonny and Terry were trying to peer through the van’s windows to see the bike. The doors finally opened, Shine pressed by Harry to see for himself. Strapped in the center of the van was the 1948 Indian Chief, bright red and gleaming with chrome. Shine hopped up into the van and started pulling at the straps. Harry just stood back and enjoyed the spectacle. The two boys joined in, and in a few moments the straps were off. Shine said, “Okay guys, don’t touch anything. Let’s take a look at this baby!” It looked like it had just rolled off the showroom floor. He ran his hand over the original black leather saddlebags and the seat. The complete motorcycle was unique in its sixty-year-old design, a beautiful example of American artisanship. “Unbelievable! Totally unbelievable,” he exclaimed. “Harry, you are a genius! I don’t know how you did it in less than a week, but this is so unbelievable!” “When you got it, you got it!” Harry said, relishing the moment. He pulled a ramp out of the van and attached it so that they could roll the bike out. Shine straddled the bike and they pushed it forward. He rode the brake so that it went down the ramp slowly and safely. On the ground, Shine just sat there. “Fire it up,” Harry said. “The key’s in the ignition.” “I’m afraid to,” Shine replied, still in awe. “I’m afraid that if I try to start it, I’ll wake up and the bike will be gone.” “Want me to start it up for you, Shine,” Sonny volunteered. “Want me to?”

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“No way!” Shine asserted. “Nobody’s going to start it but me.” He crawled off the bike and walked around it, noticing every detail. “You didn’t find any rust anywhere on it, did you Harry?” “Nope. It looked like your granddad kept it wiped down pretty good. All we had to do was shine her up.” “Disk brakes…chrome pipes…these grips look new.” “Nope – the grips are the same ones it came with. One of the boys worked them over. We had to disassemble everything right down to the frame. It was interesting to watch the boys handle the parts. You would think it was pure gold.” “How’s that, Harry?” “Well, once they broke it down and cleaned up all of the parts really good, they glass beaded all of the exposed metal and clear coated them. Then they wore some surgical gloves for the rest of the job. They didn’t want to leave any smudges on the parts. They thought it was a show bike, and I didn’t tell them otherwise.” “Maybe I’ll just rent a storage space and lock it up. I can get another bike to ride.” “Shine, you are one crazy dude!” Harry said. “I didn’t go to all of that trouble just to turn that bike into a museum piece. Now, if you don’t fire it up and take it for a ride, I’m going to pull you off of it and ride it myself!” Shine grinned at him and turned the key. As it came to life, he felt the power of the tight engine surge through its frame. “Listen to that engine,” he said. It’s so quiet you can hardly hear it.” “You said you wanted it quiet,” Harry said. “Go on, Shine, take her out on the

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highway, but be careful with that throttle or she’ll run right out from under you.” He revved the engine twice to get the feel of the throttle and then he carefully released the clutch. He eased across the parking lot and hit second gear. Twisting the throttle once more, he shot forward and out onto the street. When he hit third gear, the front wheel rocked up…then fourth – and Shine was around the bend and out of sight.

Chapter 9 Sonny said to Harry, “Have you guys known each other long? Shine said you and him used to ride motorcycles together.” They were sitting on a curb close to the gym. The warmth of the sun felt good, and the aroma of bacon coming from the café made Harry hungry. Needing to get on the road early to get back to the shop by mid-afternoon, he had grabbed some coffee at a drive through, but he had not taken the time to eat. “I did some work for Shine and his granddad several years back,” Harry explained. “We built some fast bikes together. Shine was racing at Sears Point back then – mostly tricked out Harleys, but some Yamahas and Kawasaki’s too. The old man is pretty sharp, you know – somewhat of a financial wizard – rich as a Sultan, but you’d never know it.” “The people here on the Rez think he’s kinda’ odd, I guess,” Sonny said, “him and old Grammy Angeni. She’s his sister. She can tell the future. It’s kind of scary to be around her cause she always knows what you’re thinking.” Sonny felt Harry’s eyes studying him. He always felt uncomfortable when somebody looked at him like that. He thought it best to keep quiet, so he looked down and found something on the ground of interest.

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“It’s a gift,” Harry said, “and from what I can understand, it’s probably not what you’re thinking. You know how some people talk about God, like they know Him personally. Well, I think maybe the Darkclouds do. According to what Shine told me, anybody can have gifts like that if they get in touch with the Spirit. But he said it can be a hard load to carry, too. One thing I know, though, is if you’re ever in a jam and you don’t know what to do next, they’re the ones to talk to. They will give you straight answers.” Terry, who had been quietly listening said, “My folks are good friends with Grammy. I’ve been to her house a lot and she’s really nice. The funny thing is that she always knows beforehand that we’re coming. She bakes cookies and things and has them ready for us. It’s kind of spooky, but I don’t care. You kinda get used to it.” “Tell Harry about your sister, Terry,” Sonny said. “Tell him about that time she was sick.” “My sister,” Terry began, “her name is Becky. She’s eleven years old now, but about four years ago she had pneumonia and they treated her at the hospital, but she wasn’t getting well. They sent her home and my mom and dad didn’t know what to do so they went to see Grammy Angeni.” It had been a traumatic experience for him because they all thought Becky wasn’t going to live. He took a deep breath and continued. “When we got to Grammy’s house, she already had a bed ready and we left Becky there for three days. I was scared that she was dying, but my dad said not to go over there. I wanted to go, but I was afraid that if I did, something bad might happen to my sister.” Harry listened intently. He had no reason to disbelieve how he knew Terry’s story would turn out. “She stayed with Grammy for three days, and then one day Becky showed up at

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our house and she was completely well. My dad tried to give Grammy some money, but she wouldn’t take any. She said what she did wasn’t for sale.” They watched as the parking lots began to fill up with cars, pickups, and motor homes. Every day was the same. “My story is different,” Harry said. “I was a high school drop-out with nothing but an old Harley and a pocket full of traffic tickets. I ran out of gas on the highway at Squaw Rock. Shine and Mr. Darkcloud stopped to help me. We loaded my bike in that old Willys and they brought me to Hopland with them. I didn’t have any money, so they filled my tank for me and bought my lunch.” Harry’s eyes began to moisten. “It was one of those things where you give up on yourself, and then you meet somebody that believes in you. The old man knew things about me. I can’t tell you how, but he knew. He said to me, ‘Harry how would you like to go into business?’ Well, I knew it couldn’t be a scam, because I didn’t have nothing they wanted. I wasn’t a believer right away either, because the old man looked like he didn’t have two quarters to rub together. “I asked him, what kind of business, and he said he could help me open my own motorcycle business. I was afraid to get my hopes up too much. You know how some people talk big and then you find out they’re playing you. The old man seemed different somehow.” “Old Andrew doesn’t talk much at all. Not to most people anyways,” Terry said. “His sister doesn’t either, but when they do say something, you better pay attention. That’s what my Mom says.” “Well, she’s right. It’s like they’re well connected. The old man says just what he

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means and he means what he says. Him and Shine bought a building for me to get started in and financed me until I got the business going. Now I have five employees and a good inventory. I’m paying them back and buying the building from them.” Harry was proud of what he had accomplished, but he knew it could have never happened without the Darkcloud’s help.

Chapter 10 It was almost half an hour before Shine returned on the motorcycle. It was obvious that he was troubled. When they asked him what he thought about the bike, he said that it was perfect, but he needed to talk to them about something important. “I have about an hour, and then I need to get back to the shop,” Harry explained. “Then let’s get some lunch before you have to go,” Shine suggested. “You have to eat anyhow, so I’ll go over a few things with you. I’m going to need your help some more.” Seated at a table near the back of the café, they talked as they ate. Shine leaned over his plate and said to Harry, “You did a terrific job on my bike, Harry. I really do like it and I appreciate it more than I know how to explain. The problem is that we’re going to have bikes we can take off-road.” “Help me out here, Shine,” Harry said, somewhat uncertain as to what Shine was getting at. “You ride away all hyped up about your bike, and then you come back here like your dog died or something. What’s going on?” “The day I got back to Hopland I saw a suspicious character in a van, and he keeps showing up. Just now, I rode down to town and saw him parked close to the bridge.

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I don’t want to spook him so I kept my distance.” “Do you think he’s connected some way to the dogs that show up at night around here?” Harry asked. “I think he’s their handler, so it’s possible that he can lead us to Sarah and whoever wants those dogs on the Rez. There are some strange things happening around here Harry, and yes, I believe that there definitely a connection. First, a 24-year-old girl took a job in genetic research and she hasn’t been seen in over four years. Her parents have done all that they know how to do to find her, and nothing has turned up. The authorities think her father had something to do with it, but I’ve met him and I’m convinced that he’s innocent. His name is Abe Chambers and he’s the president of a bike club called the Roadwrecks.” “I’ve seen some of his boys,” Harry said. “They’re mostly businessmen from around the East Bay. From what I saw they’ve got some pretty nice bikes – mostly choppers.” “Abe’s daughter was able to get some pictures to him, and it’s confirmed that the pictures were taken down in Hopland. Then a few days ago, the boys here and I were on the bridge this side of Hopland and I saw a van which I thought was suspicious, and I took some pictures of it.” “Suspicious? In what way?” Harry asked. “I know it doesn’t seem like much to go on, but the man driving the van was the same man the security cameras caught out on Gramps’ property about a week ago. Then I saw the same van today by the highway at the bottom of the hill. It’s just a hunch right now, but I intend to follow my hunch.”

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“Don’t you mean follow the van?” Harry said. “Yes, but if we stay on the road, they will know that they’re being followed. I’m concerned about the safety of Abe’s daughter if she’s is connected somehow.” “Ummm, I see then,” Harry said. “You’re going to parallel them with the off roaders and stay out of sight.” “Right, and I can’t do that alone. That’s why I need the bikes.” “Are you thinking about an out and out dirt bike, or something street legal? “We will need to be street legal, but what do you have that’s light weight and fast?” Harry thought for a minute, then he said, “You want something quiet, I imagine.” Shine nodded yes. “I know that you like two stroke, but from what you’re telling me, a four stroke would serve you better. They’re quieter and I can help it out even more with a different exhaust system. You want light weight, so you need to stay with a smaller engine.” Shine was nodding yes. “Honda makes an Enduro in a 200 cc that’s lightweight and extremely fast. They’re equipped with road lights and built to race right out of the crate. They’re torquey and they’re the closest thing to bullet proof you can buy.” “How many do you have in stock right now, Harry?” “Six or seven, but I can’t imagine how you could use that many.” “No, we only need two for now.” “I’ll get them to you tomorrow. Where do you want them delivered?” “Tell you what, Harry,” Shine said, “let’s meet at Grandfather’s old barn. You can pull your truck in behind those trees. Just give me a call on my cell to let me know when

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you want me to be there.” “Anything else?” “We’ll need fuel, but I think Grandfather has plenty at the barn. We will need some motocross suits for the boys…black if you have them…helmets and boots.” “No problem, but how will I know the sizes?” “You’ll have to ask the boys here to get theirs.” This was the first time the boys knew for sure that the bikes were for them. Their excitement was building by the moment. “You got it, Shine. Anything else?” “I’ll need a helmet. That should about do it,” Shine replied as he laid a tip on the table. “You’ve been a big help, Harry. I just want you to know that. I have a feeling that things are going to get pretty intense around her, and I want to be prepared.”

Chapter 11 Shine was rolling up his sleeping bag in the gym when someone rattled the door. He tied the bag and pushed it back against the wall. At 6:30 in the morning, he wasn’t expecting any visitors. As he walked across the polished floor toward the big double doors, the rattling and banging continued. The events of the previous day were still fresh in his mind. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Harry had already showed up with all the things he had requested. Harry sometimes worked all night on a project, and Shine was confident that Harry was as motivated as he was in getting those motorbikes to the Rez. But when he pushed open the door, there stood a man and a boy that he had not seen for several years.

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“Tom Dason!” He exclaimed, “Man, am I glad to see you! You were first on my list to see today, but I don’t want to bother you too early in the day; and Jolon!” After handshakes and hugs all around, they closed the door and Shine led the way back to the dining room where they pulled up chairs at a table. “Did you come back to stay?” Jolon wanted to know. “Sonny and Terry told us that you came back. You’re going to help us get rid of the night visitors.” “Well, first I want to see everybody, and then I’ll sure be glad to help however I can. Right now I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on.” “So are we, Shine,” Tom said. “So are we. The whole thing’s got everybody here spooked. It’s not just imaginary, either. That big one, the one that’s the leader of the pack, he almost got Jolon. He was close enough my boy here could smell his breath!” “I’ll bet that didn’t smell so good,” Shine laughed. “My grandfather told me about it. He said that Jolon handled it better than most men would. He said he was really proud of Jolon.” “Mr. Darkcloud could have killed it then,” Jolon said, “but the reason he didn’t was because the one that had me treed is the leader of the pack, and he calls them together. He said it would be easier to find the rest of them if they all stay together. Otherwise they will be all over the woods, and that would be a whole lot worse.” “Gramps usually knows,” Shine said. “He said that he felt bad leaving you in that tree, but you seemed to be safe there. He said that as soon as the clouds blocked out the moon, the moon dog lost interest and left.” “How did you know it was a moondog, Shine?” Tom asked. “Not many people know what they are.”

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“Grammy Angeni told me,” Shine said. “There was a prophecy about eighty-five or ninety years ago that bears an uncanny likeness to what you’ve been seeing here. I think that there’s something to it.” “It’s either the same thing,” Tom said, “Or a self-fulfilled prophecy. I believe that dreams can have a meaning, but sometimes it’s just too many beans for supper.” “So which way are you leaning on this, Tom? Do you think it’s the real deal?” “I do, and so do most of the people that I’ve talked to, especially the elders. I’m inclined to trust the wisdom of the elders.” “And Grammy,” Jolon interjected. “Yes, and Grammy,” His father agreed. “She’s a crackerjack. It’s funny how some people are afraid of her because they think she can read their minds, but the children all love her, and they’re hard to fool.”

Chapter 12 At the Café over breakfast Shine asked, “Tom, do you and Jolon have any opinions about what action should be taken? I have some ideas, but you’ve been right here from the first. Jolon, you have seen this monster face to face. What are your thoughts?” Tom and his teenage son looked at each other before speaking. “Shine, the one thing that we don’t have here is someone who can pull us together so that we all work as a team. The council is looking to the security department for answers, and security is looking to the council. I’m afraid that unless we get a handle on this, we will just waste our time blaming one another. Grammy Angeni says that a warrior will come, whatever

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that means. Nobody is sure what to do.” “I know,” Shine said. “She told me the same thing. But think of it this way, if she’s right, we will know when it happens, but meanwhile we have to do what we can. The prophecy she told to me suggests that the blood has only started to flow.” “That’s true, Shine,” Tom agreed, “unless we act soon.” He looked out the window and watched a young woman walk by the building pushing a baby stroller. At her side were a boy and a girl no older than six or seven. Gesturing toward them he said, “There is their target. They are terrorists. They have no purpose at all but to terrorize the people of the Rez. That’s the part that I haven’t figured out yet.” “We do have one advantage,” Jolon ventured. “It’s just a thought, but maybe it’s something to think about.” “What is that, Jolon?’ Shine said. “We need to hear ideas, especially from you. As far as I know, only a handful of people have any first hand experience with the moon dogs.” “They’re really dangerous,” He began, “But without the moonlight, they’re just plain old dogs – except for the big one. When they’re in the dark, they don’t glow, but as soon as they get into the bright moonlight, they light up and they get mean.” “So how does that help us, Son?” Tom asked. “What if you could find them in the daytime? They would just be plain old dogs. We could either trap them or kill them. And Dad, even the big one didn’t try to catch me when the clouds covered up the moon.” The maturity of the boy had begun to impress his father. It seemed as though only days ago he was wrestling on the floor with him and teaching him to ride a bike. Now

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Jolon was as tall as Tom and thought like a man. He gave silent thanks for what he saw in his son. “He’s right, Shine,” Tom said. “They’re just plain old dogs.” “One thing I haven’t mentioned, but maybe you already know. I think they have a handler. I’ve seen him twice. He drives a white van with an Xlent Construction logo on the side. The dogs I saw get in his van were just plain old dogs like you said. I was checking him out for a different reason, but I suspected there was some connection.” “I’ve seen a van like that on the Rez,” Jolon said confidently. I couldn’t see who was in it but it would go real slow all around the Rez like somebody looking for something. I’ll bet you it’s the same one that you saw.” “Did it have a construction logo on it, Jolon?” Jolon’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then he said, “No. It said, NorCal Winery.”

Chapter 13 Dave was 44 years old, and a devoted husband and father of three. He had recently begun to think of retirement. If he could just hold out for thirteen more years, he reasoned, he could retire from the CHP and find a less stressful job. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being a patrol officer; he valued his work and he felt like he was doing something worthwhile. Lieutenant David Simmons was a 17-year veteran of the California Highway Patrol. Saturday night was much like a thousand of other nights in the city, with the exception of a more than usual amount of drunk drivers. Weekends for him meant

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overtime pay, but with all the drunk drivers, it also meant a greater chance of vehicle accidents. He was not surprised when the dispatcher ordered him to the tollbooth area where a sedan, coming out of the Macarthur Tunnel, approached the toll area too fast, and had hit three cars before flipping over and smashing into a tollbooth. Lieutenant Simmons was the first officer to arrive at the scene. Glass and debris were scattered on the pavement and a crowd had gathered, some looking for a way to help, but most of them were merely gawkers. As he opened the door of his squad car, he heard other sirens and saw an ambulance with its emergency lights flashing, steadily seeking a path amid the heavy traffic. Jerry Bailey was on the job in the tollbooth when the accident occurred. When the car hit the booth, Jerry fell hard against the door but was otherwise unhurt. He had closed his lane and using a tire iron, was trying to pry the door open on the driver’s side of the upside down car. It appeared that there were no other passengers. Officer Simmons retrieved several flares out of the trunk of the black and white and placed them across the lane and down the side to divert traffic. When he looked up the ambulance had arrived at the scene with a fire truck not far behind. Another bridge worker had arrived with flares and was placing them farther down. “It’s a bad one this time, Dave,” the uniformed booth worker said, unsuccessful at opening the car door, “I don’t think anyone’s dead, but that guy in there is a bloody mess.” The officer leaned against the fender, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “What about those other three cars? Anyone injured that you know of?” “See that Toyota turned sideways? A couple of the passengers were pretty

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banged up. We need another ambulance here, if you ask me.” “I see Rudy over there,” Dave said, glancing over at the ambulance. “He’s an old pro. He’ll know how to handle it. If he needs more help he can make the call.” “It’s been weird, Dave. Just about every time we get a moon like that, weird things happen. You think there’s anything to that?” “To tell you the truth, Jerry, I don’t know, but it sure seems that way. I’ve seen some pretty strange things on the highway recently. I’ve been writing up lots of DUI’s, but it gets worse. About one out of every five I stop, I have to take to the mental health facility. Call me crazy, but there must be some connection.” “Nope, Dave, you’re the least crazy person I know. But I’ll tell you something you may not believe. About three days ago, this gal came through my lane in a sweet little silver BMW and she had two monkeys in the car. Now listen to this, Dave. One of them was standing on her shoulder and the other one was on the head rest on the other side, and they were hanging out of the sunroof.” Dave couldn’t help but smile as he waited for the punch line. Jerry always had a story. Listening, he reached into the trunk again, this time for a battery-powered lantern. “Monkeys, huh? Two of them…” “No lie, Dave. But get this. They were dressed like little soldiers and they were both holding up American flags.” Dave snickered. He was trying not to laugh when he said, “Did they give you their name, rank and serial number, Jerry?” “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Nobody else did either until I showed them the picture.”

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“You have a picture of them? Jerry, you’ve pulled my leg too many times.” “Okay, here, I’ll prove it,” Jerry said. He took a cell phone from his belt and punched the photo button. Holding it where Dave could see it, he added, “Take a look for yourself.” Sure enough, the picture showed a reasonably attractive woman driving the BMW. The monkeys wearing what looked like miniature marine dress uniforms and holding flags were standing in the open sunroof. They were looking directly into the camera. The monkeys’ eyes appeared to glow white. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Dave smiled,” pleased with his own pun. “Here, let me have a closer look.” Jerry handed him the cell phone. “Jerry, these little guys are white. Look at their faces and hands. They must be albinos.” “I know they look that way, but they aren’t white, they’re green,” Jerry conjectured. “They’re actually tan and black, but they have this pale green glow, like from radiation or something. It just showed up white in the picture. I think when I download it into my computer the green color will show up better.” Other patrol cars, as well as two tow trucks had arrived. Three northbound lanes were open and vehicles were streaming through. A mist from off the ocean felt cold and damp. It was getting late and it looked like Dave was going to be working overtime again. “You ought to hold onto this picture, Jerry. It might be a good idea to keep it on your computer for awhile.” “Why’s that, Dave? Do you think it might be important?” “Probably not, but it’s just a feeling I get sometimes. I should think that there

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would be some people interested. Do you have a laptop? Maybe you could bring it to work. I’d like to take a look at those pictures again.” “I’ll do better than that, Dave. I’ll print you a copy.” “Thanks, Jerry. I’ll pick it up Monday.” While the fire truck was still working its way to the accident site, two of the firemen ran ahead with their hand held extinguishers ready. The traffic had backed up in the northbound lanes, but vehicles traveling south were moving reasonably well. “Let’s try to move these people back,” Dave said. “With all this gasoline on the road, this whole thing could blow.”

Chapter 14 Cal-Trans had closed two of the northbound lanes. Orange pylons placed along the lanes cordoned off the area around the accident site. Broken bits of glass gleamed like shiny pebbles everywhere. Dave cut across the lane toward the badly damaged Toyota. A wave of anxiety caused him to want to simply get back in his patrol car and pretend it was all an illusion. Something was not right. In fact, nothing seemed right. It was as though he was re-experiencing the whole scenario – something that had happened before; the same place, the same people, the same wrecked vehicles, but a different time. Stopping mid-stride, he turned to view the scene around him once more. The smell of gasoline was getting stronger. He reached down and felt the wetness of the pavement. He was standing in a shallow pool of the stuff. Obviously, one of the damaged cars had a ruptured fuel tank. The gas had spilled out and spread under the vehicles. One

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spark would take incinerate a dozen cars. He used his radio to call the station to advise them of the hazard. The fire trucks were still slowly making their way through the mishmash of vehicles. The station would pass the word along. There had been too many highway tragedies, too many senseless wrecks. Just hang in there, Dave ol’ boy. Things can’t get much worse. But things can get worse. He had been able to hide his feelings from almost everyone. Only his dutiful wife could see through his tough exterior. While the medics were extracting the victims from the blue Toyota, Dave made his way though the spectators back to a white SUV. The impact of the runaway car had caved in its right side and knocked it sideways on the pavement. A cluster of people had gathered around it debating on what to do for the occupants. As Dave pushed through the crowd to see inside the vehicle, the crowd saw his uniform they stepped aside. “Everyone okay in there?” he asked, taking note of the car’s occupants. The driver appeared to be in his thirties. Holding a handful of tissues to his bloodstained face, he lay with the seat in a reclining position. The bent steering wheel was a permanent reminder of the sudden impact. In the back seat, a toddler was strapped securely in a car seat and was more frightened than hurt. Her young mother, who seemed to be unhurt, was talking softly to the child. “Just a nosebleed,” he said to the officer. “I busted my face on the steering wheel. I must have had the seatbelt too loose.” “It happens. We’ll have to get someone to check it out and see if it’s defective. It might be important when you fill out your insurance claim. The important thing now is

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to make sure everyone’s ok. How’s the little girl?” “She’s mostly just scared,” the mother said as she unbuckled the car seat and lifted the child to her lap. “We didn’t see that car coming. What is wrong with that driver? Did he have a heart attack or something? “We don’t know yet,” Dave answered thoughtfully. He wanted to tell them what his suspicions were but thought better of it. No need to assume he was drunk until there was more evidence. “They’re checking him out. We’ll know more tomorrow. Horns were blaring and angry motorists were cursing and yelling accusations and insults at one another. A fight had broken out with three men and a woman punching and kicking at one another. Dave saw a city police officer try to intervene, shoved to the ground by a belligerent bystander. Sirens sounded over the bedlam – more help was on the way. Dave excused himself to answer a call on his radio reporting another accident north on highway 101. “Right now I want you to stay right here until the medics can get here,” He said to the victims inside the car. “It’s going to take awhile to get these lanes cleared, so you may have to sit here an hour or so.” He returned to his patrol car and drove back across the bridge with his flashers on.

Chapter 15 A red Ford station wagon eased slowly by, its driver gleeful at the sight of the bedlam developing. “Moon spell prevail, O'er hill and dale, Chaos be king!” the cheery driver chortled, delighted with his own clever wordplay. Earl Farley could smell the gasoline on the pavement before he reached it. He lit a cigar and drew its smoke in

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deeply. There to the right he saw the reflection of light off the wet concrete. He pressed the electric window button and let the window on the passenger side go all the way down. The match that had burned halfway down was still producing a healthy flame when he tossed it out the window. The flame hovering over the pavement was only the size of a pie plate, delicate and pretty. It lingered for a moment, found its breath and then spread like the fury of an untamed beast across the lanes and beneath six or seven vehicles. The screams of victims and bystanders alike filled the night. Where the gasoline had puddled, immobilized vehicles caught fire, and the flames became towering orange and black infernos. Past the tollbooths like a shadow across a room, the disregarded station wagon matched speed with the other traffic at a steady 45 miles per hour and continued across the bridge. With great satisfaction, Earl watched the pandemonium in the rearview mirror. He could not have wished for a better gift. Lovers neath a shining moon say "adieu" to sighs and cries and love that dies! Earl pulled off the bridge at the north end and circled the vista parking lot. Earlier he had counted three Highway Patrol cruisers stationed at the tollbooths and another two moving along the bridge. Traffic was moving steadily, the drivers careful not to exceed the speed limit on the bridge. At the north end of the bridge, one of the cruisers turned into the vista parking lot. The remaining cruiser turned on his flashers and sped north on highway 101. Once Earl had driven past the tunnel, he pressed the accelerator and began weaving through the traffic at bursts of speeds of 70 and 80 miles per hour. Then, whizzing by traffic at ninety and ninety five miles an hour, the big Ford

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only just began to perform. He deftly eased the big station wagon in and out of the traffic, missing cars only by inches. “Let it roll, down the highway, Let it roll, down the highway, Let it roll, down the highway – roll, roll, road hog, roll,” … he squealed loudly, amused at his own pig-like voice. The black and white cruiser came into view about five cars ahead. He punched the accelerator and changed lanes, speeding up to the rear bumper of the patrol car. There was only the driver in the cruiser. He backed off a good distance and corrected his speed. Timing is everything. Want to hear a good joke? The big pig said to the little pig… His speedometer held at seventy-two miles an hour. Watching the highway ahead, he kept his distance. Earl selected an Arlo Guthrie song on a CD and sang along with the music, his chunky head swaying and his big pudgy hands slapping the steering wheel to the rhythm. ‘This crazy love amazes me As I just gaze into your eyes The liquid sun is split upon the sea I want to be where I can see the moon arise.” He followed the cruiser around slower vehicles and kept it in view. The night traffic lessened and the presence of the black and white patrol car kept most of the commuters at a slower speed. He had plenty of time. Some things he liked to do just for the fun of it. He would like to have watched the SFPD try to awaken the old man by the piers in the morning. The dead boys were out of sight in the alley. By the time they would be found, Earl would be a hundred miles away, so why not make the most of it? The dark

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clouds had moved eastward and the bright moon bathed the landscape with silver light, providing the North Bay with an atmosphere personalized for lovers. Earl had known yet a deeper love in his younger years, but an unconscionable evil took her away from him. For a long time he mulled over his loss, trying to make some sense of it, but the comprehension of such a thing was out of his reach. When he finally recognized that he was incapable of understanding it, he gave up trying to interpret other people’s evil. It would be more advantageous to celebrate his own wickedness. Along the lonely stretch of sand Reduced to just a woman and a man Bathed in the lunar light The likes of which I might just understand Just ahead, he spotted the Petaluma Marina to the right. He turned his headlights on bright again and increased his speed until he was no more than ten feet behind the cruiser. Then, stomping the gas, he rammed hard into the back of the patrol car, causing it to swerve and hit the shoulder of the road. Its driver wrestled the car back onto the pavement again. With another burst of speed, the big station wagon pulled up alongside the black and white. Earl, unable to contain his glee, laughed and chortled as he rolled down the front passenger window and looked directly into the face of the startled patrol officer.

Chapter 16 They watched Harry’s van roll out of the parking lot and up the hill toward the

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highway. “I can’t do this without you,” Shine said to the boys. “If Abe’s daughter is somewhere in this area, I’m going to need some help and right now you’re the best I can think of. How about it?” “What exactly is it that you want us to do?” Terry asked. “We only have a few leads so far,” Shine said. “We know that Sarah has been in this area. We know that some strange things have been happening here with the night visitors, and I’m convinced that the two cases are connected somehow. I’m thinking that you two can ride off road bikes and see if you can track down that van we saw at the bridge, and at the same time, watch for the dogs. It’s doubtful that they are from a kennel somewhere. I think they have a den that they’re staying in during the day. It may be somewhere in the woods or it may be a building not too far away. We’re pretty sure that there are no new structures on Grandfather’s property, but we know that the dogs are gathering in that area.” “So you want us to be like scouts?” “Exactly. It’s what the military calls reconnaissance. I’ll need to go over some things with you, but I think you will be pretty safe. The most important thing is that you don’t have any bad accidents on your bikes. We’ll fix you up with suits with pads. You will simply be teenagers on dirt bikes. All you have to do is to keep track of who and what you see. When you have any information, report to me. If I’m unavailable, report to Gramps. I’ll see that you’re paid for your efforts.” “There’s just two things: if our parents think it’s ok, and if we can get excused from school,” Terry said. “But I’m pretty sure if my Mom and Dad know how important it is, they will let me.”

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“Me too,” Sonny said. “My folks would be glad for me to be doing something useful. They think I’m pretty much a foul up, but I want to show them I can do something important.” “That’s all going to change, guys. Believe me, unless we do something significant soon, it won’t be safe for anyone here on the Rez, and maybe not for anyone living anywhere near here.” “That’s why you came home, isn’t it?” Sonny said. “I’ve been thinking about it, and since you’re the only one that seems to know what to do, I think maybe somebody sent for you.” Shine thought about it and he knew that the boys deserved an explanation. Too much information too soon would not be wise, but ignoring Sonny’s question would not be fair. “Yes, that’s part of it. Grandfather called me a few weeks ago. You know how he is, he feels responsible for the people who live around here. It has always been that way. In the old days he would have tackled the situation alone, but now he feels like it’s wise to ask for help.” “I’m glad that he asked for you to come,” Terry said. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have gotten the chance to help.” He paused for a moment, thinking about what Shine had said, then added, “Shine, you said that your grandfather’s asking you to come was part of it. What is the other part?” Shine ran his hand over the newly polished fuel tank and opened the chrome lid to check the gas level. He replaced the lid with a twist and looked back at Sonny and Terry. It would not be long until they would possibly be in college or in the military. Already

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they had demonstrated that they were sincere about taking on a man’s responsibility. Shine said, “I do have some other business here, but I suppose by now you have guessed that. Guys, there are some other things that I have to do that I’m not at liberty to say yet. As soon as I can, I’ll fill you in on it. For now, though, I can only ask for your trust.” He could see their disappointment, but the time was not right. Hopefully, this business would be over soon, and he wouldn’t have to be so cautious. “We really need to get started,” he told them. “It will take me an hour to ride out to the barn and bring back Grandfather’s pickup. Can both of you meet me here in an hour?” Shine noted that the sky was clear, and unless some clouds developed, there would be a bright moon that night. He shuttered at the thought of the night visitors on the Rez. There would be more attacks, and there would be more deaths. It would be near impossible to keep everyone inside at night. The boys did not fully understand how important their efforts would be to everyone, including their own families. Shine’s spirits lifted when he climbed back on his motorcycle. He had the beginning of a plan and he was confident that the leads he had would be productive. When he turned the key, the bike quietly started, unlike the loud motorcycles Abe and his friends rode. He slipped the heavy cycle into gear and rode quickly to the street.

Chapter 17 The casino parking lot was almost full. Near the front door, Shine spotted a long row of Harleys. Abe and his friends were at the casino. Shine pulled into the lot and saw Abe and Warren talking just outside the front door. He rode his bike up beside them, turned off the ignition and removed his helmet.

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“Abe! Warren!” he called to them. “Hey, where did you get that dream machine,” Warren exclaimed. “Don’t that beat all!” Abe said. “It’s got skirts on the wheels and fringes on the saddlebags. Now ain’t that just so sweet? Shine, that thing’s from another century!” Shine, still on the bike replied, “A friend from the Bay Area cleaned it up for me and delivered it this morning. It’s old, but it runs.” “Barely,” Abe chided with a wary grin, “Barely.” “Time’s are hard, Abe. Sometimes you just have to do with what you got. Anyhow, it’s easy to ride and hopefully I won’t kill myself on it.” “Yeah, yeah,” Abe agreed.” It probably won’t go fast enough to be dangerous, but you can ride with us if you want – that is, if you think that can keep up.” Shine loved it. Abe was so self-assured that it would be fun to mess with him a little bit. “You guys are going to take it easy on me, aren’t you?” He said. “I used to ride pretty good, but it’s been a few years.” “But why an Indian, Dude?” Abe wanted to know. “I had you pegged for a Harley man. What a disappointment! Nobody ever rides an Indian anymore.” “It’s something I can afford. Besides, my granddad gave it to me and I don’t want to offend him.” That seemed to satisfy Abe. Still he talked on with his personal opinions about the superiority of Harleys. Warren, who was taking note of the disk brake rotor visible just below the front wheel skirt and the custom chrome exhaust, sidled up to Shine and whispered, “You sly dog, you know that this is an original 1948 in pristine condition and it’s probably worth forty or fifty grand. It will do one-thirty stock, but you’ve had it tricked out, haven’t

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you?” Shine nodded yes and replied, “Just a little bit, Warren, and I like how it looks just the way it is.” “So do I, Man! So do I!” Chapter 18 “I’ve got to get the boys out to my granddad’s place,” Shine told them. “I was going to make a quick run out to the barn and pick up his truck, but if one of you could ride out there with me, we could take them now. Anybody interested?” “Yeah, we’re up to it,” Abe volunteered. “I just need to let my other boys in the casino know – take me just a minute.” Shine nodded and Abe went to look for the others. “Any new leads on Sarah?” Warren asked as Abe disappeared into the casino. “Nothing solid,” Shine said, “but I got another look at the van this morning. I spotted it parked down by the bridge at Hopland again. The DMV ran a check on the license plate. The van is registered to Bay Area BioChem. The address turns out to be a vacant warehouse in Oakland. I should know who owns that property in a few days, but my guess is that there won’t be a connection.” “So the plot thickens,” Warren said. “Yes, the plot thickens.” Shine watched as two more cars entered the parking lot, and one backed out of a space and drove up the hill to the highway. He wondered how many patrons of the casino knew of the danger lurking in the woods. All the residents of the reservation were fully aware of the danger, but there had been no news of the recent attack released by the media, as far as he knew. The Tribal Council hired two more security officers. Safety precautions were in

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place, especially at night. Still, with all the safeguards, it was likely that the night visitors would be back. Those kept in the information loop knew too well that the dogs were only a part of the threat. Somehow Shine had to get to the core of the problem, and that meant finding out who exactly was behind it all, and why. Sonny and Terry came running up to the two men. “Shine, you already talked to our parents, didn’t you?” Sonny said. “They said it was okay.” “How about you, Terry?” Shine asked. “You know how moms are,” he said. “She was all teary and stuff, but she said that if you needed me, I ought to do what I can to help. She just wants me to be careful and stuff.” “You guys do know it’s going to be a little risky, don’t you?” “Yeah, but Mom said if we listen to you and do what you say, we’ll be okay,” Sonny said. “So you’re all set then?” Although the boys did not know all that lay ahead of them, the allure of adventure drew them into the fray like a bear to honey. Abe started up his motorcycle and Sonny crawled onto the back. About that time, Warren pulled up beside them and said, “Terry, you can ride with me.” “What about the truck?” Terry asked, settling on the seat behind Warren. “Change of plans?” “This will be quicker,” Shine said. “We need to get started, so these guys here are going to ride out with us.” With Sonny seated behind Shine and Terry on the back of Warren’s bike, Abe led

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the way to the highway and east to Andrew Darkcloud’s barn.

Chapter 19 Abe and Warren’s motorcycles roared up the main road to the highway. Shine, with Sonny seated behind him on the Indian Chief, followed. Shine knew that he had to be ready to change his game plan anytime the conditions changed. It was much like the conflict in Afghanistan; as the enemy constantly changed its tactics, the battle plans changed. He had little to go on, yet what he did know at that point, was enough to follow until he had new information. The next two or three days could reap important results. As they neared the highway, he caught a glimpse of something in the trees off to his left. A single dog – a German Shepherd – watched them ride by. They were out there all right! They were all just waiting for nightfall. Shine was angry, not at the animal, but at the evil minds behind such a thing. He had seen his share of terrorism, but this was different. There seemed to be no rational reason for the treachery. Why would anybody want to exploit the little reservation? When they neared the turnout, Shine pulled to the front and led the others down to the barn. They parked their bikes inside the large structure and shut off the engines. Just as they were getting off the bikes, Andrew Darkcloud emerged from one of the stalls. “Looks like you brought the whole army with you, Shine,” he said. “I’ve been getting things ready. There are some targets set up on the other end of the barn. Unless there are other things you need to do, we ought to get started.”

Chapter 20

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The barn was clean and airy. Light entered from the open main door and open shutters on each side. They looked at the far end of the barn and there were neatly stacked bales of hay with archery targets attached. Various types of bows lay on a rough wooden table, arranged with their corresponding practice arrows. Shine said, “Let’s get some more bales of hay over here to sit on. Grandfather and I will tell you what we know about these weapons and then we can start with some practice.” When they had pulled the hay bales into place, they were ready. Shine picked up a short bow. They watched him string the small, powerful weapon. With practiced hands, he picked up an arrow, quickly pulled back the arrow and released it. With negligible sound, it sped to the target and deeply pierced the black five-inch spot in the center. Before they took their eyes off the target, two more arrows hit their mark in rapid succession. “This weapon has three distinct advantages,” Shine explained. “It is fast, it is powerful and it is quiet – those three advantages; but it also has one more advantage in the equation. Can either of you guys tell me what it is?” Sonny and Terry were not sure what to say. They understood what Shine said, because they immediately saw that in the demonstration, but the three advantages Shine said it all. Warren, who was listening and watching, raised his hand. “Okay, Warren,” Shine said, “What other advantage do you see.” “Most people don’t take a bow of that size seriously. If anyone were to see a couple of teenagers with them, they would not take the boys seriously. That way, Sonny

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and Terry would pretty much have their run of the woods.” His voice rose in its inflection of the last word of the sentence, indicating that he was not quite sure it was the right answer. Shine let them all consider the question and Warren’s answer for a moment, then he said, “Warren has the correct answer. They will simply see you as lucky boys that have new bikes exploring and having fun. In a sense, they will be right, because you will be having fun. Today and tomorrow however, you are going to practice, practice, practice, until you feel confident with them. You may not be able to hit this bull’s eye every time, but you will be able to easily hit a beast or a man at that distance.” “I tried shooting Bobby Turner’s bow,” Sonny asserted, “But I missed the whole target every time. Those things are really hard to hit with.” “Guys,” Shine replied, “I want you to see something. Grandfather!” The old man stepped to Shine’s side. Shine took a black cloth from his jacket pocket, blindfolded him and then moved back out of the way. The old man picked up the bow off the table and swiftly shot three arrows into the target, each one joining Shine’s arrows within the black bull’s eye. He turned his back and walked away. Then taking off the blindfold, he sat back down on a bale of hay.

Chapter 21 “Good golly Miss Molly!” Sonny exclaimed. “How did he do that?” “Practice, practice, practice,” The old man said. “He had seen the target,” Shine explained. “His conscious mind kept the target in focus even while I blindfolded him. In his mind, he still saw the target. So in a sense, he

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was looking at the target as he released the arrows.” “Is that like some kind of a meditation thing, like the eastern religions teach?” Sonny wanted to know. “Nope,” The old man said from where he was sitting. “It’s an old Indian trick.” Shine had to smile at that. “We only used that to illustrate what is possible. It won’t be long until you boys will be hitting the target every time. After you get the feel of the short bow, you will move on to this.” He held up a crossbow. “This weapon is even more powerful, and in the right hands it is extremely accurate.” At the far end of the barn was a bale of hay with a short post in front of it. On the post was a large red apple. Andrew took the crossbow and moved to the opposite end of the barn. Shine and the others moved out of the way. The old man fitted the arrow on the bow and aiming quickly, he pulled the trigger. The arrow struck the apple, splitting it into three parts. “Next is the hatchet.” Shine held the tool up for them to see, and then turning, he threw it at one of the thick posts along the side of the barn. Upon impact, its sharp wedge sank more than an inch into the wood. “The hatchet can be used to cut firewood, to kill and even skin an animal, to build a shelter or to stop any man in his tracks. Its usefulness is unlimited. I have them here for each of you to keep.” Then he drew his knife with a six-inch blade out of its sheath at his belt and as with the hatchet, he threw it about twenty-five feet into the post. It sank in so deeply that he had to work it up and down to loosen it and to pull it back out. “I have these for you too. Again, you probably won’t need a knife or a hatchet for protection, but they are

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handy tools. Of course you won’t be carrying all these things with you all the time, but you need to learn their use just the same.” At first, the boys felt overwhelmed by the skills that Shine and Mr. Darkcloud displayed with the weapons, yet they were eager to join in. When it was the boys’ turn, Sonny, the bolder of the two, fitted an arrow to the bow and drew it back. When he released the arrow, it flipped end-over-end and fell to the floor a few feet in front of him. “You could scare someone to death shootin’ like that!” Abe joked, grabbing at his heart as if he were shot. “Give me a Colt 45 any day. Them things ‘ull stop a elephant.” Terry might have laughed, but he knew that his turn was coming up. “It takes a few practice shots to get the feel of it,” Shine said encouragingly. “You’ll do just fine, Sonny. Just try it again.” Sonny carefully drew back the next arrow. He held his breath to hold the bow steady, then released. The arrow flew over the target and hit the wall at the opposite end of the barn. “Not bad. Not bad at all, Sonny,” Shine said. He stood behind Sonny and talked to him while the youth aimed the next arrow. When he let it go, the third arrow hit the target, but not the bull’s eye. Terry, watching and learning, stepped up to try his bow. From what he had seen Sonny do, he knew to take his time and think about what he was doing. He hit the bale of hay with the first shot. Abe was becoming more interested with each of the boy’s attempts. He said, “Pretty good, Terry! You got the hang of it, looks like.” Terry missed the bale the second shot and hit the target but not the bull’s eye on the third.

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“Abe, are you and Warren ready to see what you can do with a bow?” Abe had not thought about Shine including him in the sport. He held out his hands, his palms toward Shine and said, “Oh, no, not me! I’m strictly a gun man myself. Warren might give it a try though, he’s a young buck.” He looked over at Warren and said, “You want to give it a shot, Warren?” “Sure,” Warren responded, “I’ll give it a try.” He took one of the bows and selected three arrows. He carefully ran his fingers over an arrow and felt its shaft and its balance. Arranging the arrows on one of the bales of hay, he picked up the bow again. Almost as a ritual, he held the wooden bow and felt its sleek shape, and the taunt string. Then he picked up an arrow and fitted it to the bow. With the weapon point upward, he began to draw back the string. As he pulled the arrow back, he brought the weapon back down in an aiming position. When he released the arrow, it sped straight toward its mark, missing the bull’s eye by less than an inch. He could almost feel the others in the barn holding their breath as he picked up the next arrow. Upon his release, it hit the target’s center and buried deeply into the bale of hay. The third arrow missed the center, but only by a very small margin. “Is that you’re first time using a bow?” Shine queried. “No, not actually,” Warren replied. When I was a boy in Scouts, we did some archery at camp. I really liked the sport. I should have kept it up, but I couldn’t afford the equipment.” “So you haven’t used a bow for a long time, then.” “No, it’s been about twelve or thirteen years, I think,” he replied.

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“Well, I’m impressed,” Shine said. “That wasn’t bad at all for someone with no more experience than that.” Warren tried to appear modest, but it felt good for Shine to offer him recognition like that. “You’re up next, Abe.” Shine announced.

Chapter 22 Abe felt all their eyes on him. If he did take a turn, he would probably at the least miss altogether and at the worst, break something. “Well, how about it?” Abe didn’t like being pushed in a corner, but he couldn’t think of a way to back out, so with some trepidation, he agreed to try. He said, “Okay, I’ll take a shot at it. It’s a boy’s game, but it won’t hurt to give it a try, I guess.” With their encouragement, Abe took his place facing the target across the barn. He could feel sweat on his brow. He wiped the perspiration away with his shirtsleeve and picked up one of the bows. Oddly, the old weapon felt comfortable in his hand. Abe’s memory rolled back to the high school gym, where he watched the team practice. One of the players stood midcourt and arced a ball toward the net. It missed the backboard and bounced against the far wall. The ball bounced several times and then rolled Abe’s direction. He stopped it with his foot, meaning to toss it back. But then the bell rang and the team raced to the locker room, leaving him holding the ball. Young Abe surveyed the voluminous gym and saw that only one boy still there. The youth had two basketballs in his arms and was trying to manage a third. Abe walked

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onto the court. He stood mid-court and eyed the backboard and net. He bounced the ball a few times to get the feel of it and then took a shot. The ball curved through the air and swished through the net. “Piece’a cake!” he had muttered to no one other than himself. The ball hit the floor, bounced and rolled back to him, as if to say, That was fun! Let’s do that again! Abe repeated the exercise twice more, acing it each time. He had left the gym with his head held high, leaving his only witness watching in wonder. Abe pulled back the string a few times and looked at the last two arrows on the hay. Picking up an arrow, he notched it to the string, wishing for fewer witnesses. “Well, here goes nothin’,” he said, drawing back the arrow and letting it fly. To his astonishment, the arrow hit the bull’s eye with such force that it flew completely through the hay bale and into the opposing wall. “Piece’a cake!” Abe announced with great satisfaction. Considering his timely success another fluke, he sat on a bale of hay with a sigh of relief. Occasionally a person gets surprisingly lucky, and Abe wasn’t one to second-guess fate. “Good golly Miss Molly!” Sonny breathed. “I just say, that was even better than Shine and Mr. Darkcloud did.” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he was sorry he said it. Sonny really admired both the Darkclouds, and he realized that he should not have said it like that. “Sorry,” he said, “I just mean that that time he did better.” Seeing that he was making it worse, he muttered, “Sorry.” Shine said, “No offense taken, Sonny. Abe is a natural. Some people are gifted that way.” Then to Abe, he said, “Abe, the chances of that shot being an accident are like a hundred to one. I think you need to find out for yourself if you were just lucky or if you

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have a natural gift. There’s one more arrow there. Would you please shoot that last one? It will mean a lot to me if you do.” “But what if I miss,” Abe reasoned. “Wouldn’t it be better just to quit with a perfect score?” “Not this time, Abe,” Shine said. “We need to keep in mind the reason for this. Sarah deserves the best that we can do to find her and bring her back. This may not seem like much, but please believe me when I say that we need every advantage we can get.” Abe pondered what Shine had said. Though he did not yet understand how bows and arrows and hatchets and knives were going to save his daughter, he was ready to try anything. “Then I don’t care if I do look foolish, I’ll do whatever you say, Shine. You’re my last hope.” He took the bow back up and notched the remaining arrow. This time the arrow again sailed completely through the bull’s eye, through the bale of hay and into the wall. It struck the wall no more than an inch from the previous arrow. This time Abe made no witty remark; he just sat down and sighed, “Thank God.”

Chapter 23 Sarah Chambers turned off the computer monitor and stood to stretch. There were no windows in the laboratory, but overhead florescent lighting made the room as light as day. She hardly noticed the steady hum of electrical equipment that lined two of the walls. The entire room was a soft white and had the antiseptic look of a hospital. Basic metal desks and tables of pale taupe and grays, arranged for efficiency more than appearance, looked stoical and unwelcome. Lightly padded chairs and austere metal cabinets scattered randomly, served merely to facilitate, and not to accommodate.

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The woman walked slowly around the room, pausing from time to time to assess the current projects. She tore a data sheet from its printer and scanned the information briefly. Laying the paper on a table beside a microscope, she sat on a stool where she placed a specimen under the microscope and peered with interest into the eyepiece. Were it not for the fact that Sarah loved research, she would not have been able to bear the pressure of her circumstance. On the west side of the laboratory were four large rooms separated from the main room with floor to ceiling thick glass. The entire facility was soundproof. Situated along the walls and in the center of three of the rooms were steel cages in which laboratory animals were kept. Industrial fans and ducting kept the rooms aerated. Otherwise, the odor from the animals kept there would be substantial. The fourth room, somewhat larger, served as a makeshift veterinary clinic. On the opposite side were only two rooms, one of which was an office. A glass wall separated it from the main facility. The room beside it, which had no window at all, was a multipurpose area that served as a conference room. All of the rest of the spacious east side was sealed off was used as a wine cellar which could only be accessed from the winery above and by a large exterior door at the loading dock outside.

Chapter 24 Unheard above the laboratory, the silver BMW crunched to a stop on the gravel parking lot outside. There, several old oak trees provided shade for the customers and gave the winery an old country atmosphere. The sprawling buildings constructed of river stones and heavy wooden beams, sat high on the east side of the river. Between the

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winery and the river was a beautifully landscaped yard and garden with shaded areas furnished with rustic tables and chairs, a drinking fountain and a meandering fishpond stocked with various sizes of colorful koi. The slender woman in her late thirties, dressed in a fashionable gray and navy business suit put the car in park and turned off the engine. She snapped the chain leashes onto the collars of the two small monkeys. With the sunroof open, they could sit on the car’s headrests and look out of the top of the car. Gathering up her purse and a thin black brief case, she started toward the front door of the Winery. Pausing a moment and looking back at them atop her car, she smiled at the sight of the tan and black Capuchin monkeys dressed in white bellbottom trousers and tee shirts. Each wore a white navy cap with dark blue anchors decorating the upturned brims. “Be good while I’m gone, kids,” she called back to them. Her footsteps clacked purposefully across the heavy plank porch, announcing her belated arrival. She pushed the brass fitted door open and stepped inside. Across the room, Apollo Savage was wiping down the counter with a damp cloth. In truth a needless exercise, for there had been no customers for almost an hour, but Apollo liked to look busy. “You’re late,” Apollo announced. “E. F. called twice. He’s in one of his moods.” “What was he calling about?” Teresa wanted to know, more than a little edgy whenever she missed one of his calls. She walked behind the counter and poured hot coffee into a small mug. Taking it black, she carried it to a table near a window and sat down. Although Apollo was a good four inches shorter than the woman was, and he was

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nearly twice her weight. For a man of his girth, he was very quick on his feet – and equally as quick with his wits. That said, since both being overly self-important, they often clashed. “He wants that demographic study finished this week. You know how he is,” Apollo said. “He said that he will be here in an hour or so, which probably means that he could show up any minute.” “He’s all bark and no bite,” the woman said, more to herself to assuage her own fears than to Apollo. Were it not for the generous stipend she enjoyed she would just move back to her condo in Burlingame and kiss this weed patch goodbye. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he replied. “He scares me sometimes. I’ve worked with some pretty psychotic people, but the boss is beyond anything I’ve seen so far. Just to be on the safe side, you might want to have an explanation that will keep him happy. I’ve heard some things, Teresa. Personally, I plan to watch my back.” Teresa looked out the window at the landscaped yard. She didn’t want Apollo to see the troubled look that she was sure her expression would reveal. Frankly, E. F. gave her the creeps. Were it not for the promises he had made to her, she would have stayed in the Bay Area. “Do you have something in mind?” she said cautiously. Apollo was not quick to answer. Teresa was not a person that he would want to trust with his life. Still, when one person goes down, others would probably follow. He said, “Your sister and brother-in-law own some property in Manteca don’t they?” “Yes, they have about sixty acres there. They’re breeding Appaloosas. My sister told me a couple of weeks ago that one of their horses took first place in the barrel races at Salinas recently.”

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“Well, if you just happened to be looking to buy one of their colts, it could have made you late. If that’s what happened, I’ll back up you’re story.” He rearranged a row of glasses on the shelf, and then turned to look directly at the young woman. She was indeed attractive, but she was not someone you could trust. “No, Apollo. I was in my apartment most of the time. I wasn’t feeling well.” “Yes, I know that you were in your apartment, Teresa, but it was because you were wiped out on coke.” He looked directly at her. “Am I right?” “Do you have me followed, Apollo?” she responded defiantly. Teresa wanted to vent her anger, but she knew that she had no real defense. “Because, if you’re doing that, I want you to know that I don’t appreciate it. I think I’m entitled to some privacy.” Apollo could easily see through her false bravado. Nobody likes to be pushed against the wall, especially someone with Teresa’s impregnable personality. He continued, “No, you were with your sister in Manteca, right?” At first, she thought that Apollo was accusing her, but she now realized that he was offering her an alibi for being a day late. She said, “Yes. Yes, I do love horses. You’re right about that.” The best thing for the time being was to go along with Apollo’s plan. “Yes, I was in Manteca.” “Don’t forget to call your sister and get it straight with her, okay?” Taking orders, especially from someone whom she thought less significant, was not something she handled well. Yet, this was not the time to play the I’m-moreimportant-than-you game. She replied, “I’ll call her right away. Yes, I know you’re right.”

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Chapter 25 The bronze and black placard on the door read Vadoma, Manager. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Usually, she felt at peace when she could be alone in her office, which she had personally equipped and decorated. In recent weeks however, she felt the pressure of her job. What she thought would be a prestigious position in the wine industry had been anything but that. What little wine they did produce had very little consumer appeal; not because they were not capable of creating a quality vintage, but because the man who owned everything, simply did not care, and he was unwilling to spend any more money on bringing in a qualified winemaker. Upon celebrating the opening of the winery, Teresa was the bright new star in the wine retail business. She had all the credentials, and certainly the motivation to be the kind of success she felt she deserved. It was not long, however, until she realized that the winery was only a front for the things that went on in the basement. At first, she decided it best for her to find another job, but when she was offered additional bonuses and perks, she relented. More than her business acumen, he needed other talents that she brought with her from the old country. She checked her mail and phone calls, then returned to her car to get Freddie and Frieda, her twin Capuchin monkeys that traveled everywhere with her. They leaped into her arms the moment she unleashed them, chattering excitedly. Back inside the winery, a wide door in the rear of the storage room was marked, Supply Room – Employees Only. Teresa keyed in the security code and unlocked the heavy door. She pushed the door open and entered; allowing the door to swing back shut and automatically lock behind her.

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The bare room was about twelve by sixteen feet in size; its concrete walls marked only by the vertical lines created by the plank forms that were used in their construction. Two large light bulbs hang from the ceiling, giving the bleak space a death chamber appearance. She turned to her right and crossed over to the descending steps. Every footstep echoed, but only within that particular space. At the bottom of the steps, she came to another open area as bare and dreary as the first, and a second door fitted with reinforced glass and vertical steel bars. At that point, it would not have been wise to be hasty. There were security rooms at every entry of the cellar; this was one of four. Teresa applied the six-number code and opened the door.

Chapter 26 The hallway was dark but for the lights in the laboratory in the center of the basement. She could hear a man’s voice over the hum of equipment. She heard him saying, “…in about six or seven more weeks. This is the last of the tests. Then they will begin disposing of the rest of the test subjects.” “So they’re just going to write us a big paycheck and send us home?” a female voice said. “I don’t think so, Dirk. I think we’re going to have to find a way out of here.” Dirk Powers, a shy man in his early forties, was nothing like his name implied. The inside joke among the workers there was the question as to what might happen if Dirk Powers and Apollo Savage ever met in battle. Dirk and Apollo knew of the little joke, but neither of them thought it was very funny. As pale as the gray machine before him, Dirk was of average height and weight;

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his weight however, proportioned oddly, being thick of belly and thin of chest. His once jovial, clean-shaven face, was embellished with oversized turtle shell glasses, and his thin hair he parted delicately on one side. “Why? What are you thinking?” Dirk wanted to know. The sound of water running through the plumbing pipes all but drowned out part of Sarah’s response, but Teresa heard, “…then dispose of us as well.” Teresa stood in the darkened hallway for several minutes, trying to hear more of their conversation, but running water and the hum of electrical instruments masked anything further they might have said. Patience not being one of her stronger traits, she called out, “Dirk, I need to see you in my office.” She walked past the animal cages and unlocked the door to the basement office. From there she had a good view of the entire laboratory. Sarah and Dirk stopped what they were doing and looked her way. Seldom seen was the beatific smile she exhibited in her professional life. Instead, she glowered at them in an accusing way; an obvious signal that she had heard at least some of what they had been saying just moments before. They were simply irritations to her, incidental people that were needed temporarily, but were essentially expendable. Maybe it was good that they had come to realize that. Sarah looked up from the humming centrifuge and watched as Dirk copied a last bit of data from the DNA sequencer. At any other laboratory and in any other project, they would have made a good team. As it was, their captivity made their working together difficult. Whatever the project, and however important it was to them, the fact of their bondage was foremost.

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More than once, they had discussed ways to overpower Teresa and force her to unlock an exit door for their escape, but they had seen the security systems. Guards that surreptitiously kept out of sight were near each exit, armed with tasers and handguns. Aggressive guard dogs, trained to track and to attack, were their eyes and ears. That Sarah and Dirk could continue their own experiments was the only benefit of working in the bleak underground laboratory. As it was, only the two of them could interpret the data gleaned from the one and a half million dollars worth of equipment that occupied that small workspace. To anyone else who might happen to see it, the data would appear only as strange combinations of abbreviations and numbers. To Sarah and Dirk, it could mean a substantial future for them once they escaped the hole in the ground and present their findings to the right people.

Chapter 27 The bright lights of a fast moving car came up behind Dave’s cruiser. His tired eyes burned when he saw the lights reflected in his rear view mirror. That was all he needed, another DUI to deal with. He left the patrol car on cruise control, occasionally glancing to see where the fast moving car was. Had he less urgent duties, he would have persued it. A five-car pileup between Petaluma and Rohnert Park, however, was tying up traffic. Even though both the local city police and Sheriffs deputies were on the scene, the Highway Patrol Office would need a separate report. The death involved made it obligatory. He would cover the accident in Petaluma and then head on home. Dave wished he could simply turn around and go home. On a night like this, he

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did not want to think about another stop or another wreck. His brother-in-law had been trying to talk him into retiring from the force and joining him in his lucrative real estate business. According to Leilani’s brother Jim, Dave could be making the same income that he earned with the CHP within a year and double that the second year. It all sounded good to him, and his wife would certainly approve. Maybe he would. Just maybe he would. The twin lights behind him, closer now and still on bright, kept a steady pace with him. He felt the chill of intimidation by those lights. He did not think the man was intoxicated or he would be all over the road. Whoever it was, was being deliberate. Maybe real estate wasn’t a bad idea. More money could mean more time with his family. He could buy a few acres and have the horses of which he always dreamed. Cowboy Dave. He smiled at the thought of being on a horse and wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson – a new sheriff in town. He knew however, that his lawman days would be over. Right now, what appealed to him more than dreams of the future, was to be at home in their little four-bedroom house, slip into the kid’s rooms and know they were happy – and loved – and safe. Then, of course, there was his gorgeous, devoted wife, Leilani. She would wait up for him, watching the evening news and worrying about him. He could not count the times that he had reassured her that he would be ok, that he could take care of himself. After all, he had never been in a shootout in his career. Ah, but Dave lived a charmed life. He had the Big Guy upstairs watching over him, angels and all. Nobody had ever heard Dave pray on the job, but he did. Yes, he prayed all right, for his own safety and the safety of others. But mostly he prayed for his

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priceless family. Some of the people he worked with felt the need to stop by a bar for an hour or so after their shift… to unwind, they would say, so as not to take the night’s troubles home with them. Not Dave. He saw the effect that had on their family relationships. It was bad enough for their wives to worry about them being so late getting home, but then when they got home drunk there was usually a big blowup with both of them going to bed mad. No sir! Dave was not going down that road. Bright headlights in the rearview mirrors blinded him, waking him up from his thoughts. What is the matter with that driver? The car could not be more than two or three feet behind him. He waited another half mile, then increased his speed to eightyfive, then to ninety, but the menacing headlights continued to glare into the rear window. Just as he was about to speed up more, the headlights backed off and lingered about fifty feet behind. Dave realized he had been holding his breath for the past 30 seconds or so. As he exhaled, he felt his heart pounding. Not many drivers would intentionally harass a Highway Patrolman. It was not just those bright lights behind him. It was something more. What was it? He knew that he should somehow pull the car over to see what was going on; after all, it was his responsibility to keep the highways safe. It was clear to him that the driver behind him was dangerous, but he was not sure why. His mind served up a host of what ifs. What if the driver is drunk or stoned? What if he’s a psychopath? What if he’s got a gun? What if, for some unknown reason, it’s some personal vendetta? What if? What if?

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Chapter 28 Dave was perspiring. His hands clutched the steering wheel tightly enough to cause his fingers to cramp. Wake up, Officer Dave, wake up, it’s only a dream. Things are seldom as bad as they seem. A few more miles, a few more minutes, and you can call it a night. His eyes felt hot and dry. He blinked several times, and then rubbed his eyelids with the back of his wrist. He slowed down to an even seventy miles an hour. The car behind him did the same. That was a good sign. As the distance between them increased, Dave started to relax. Maybe the driver was tiring of the game. There’s a turnoff up ahead. Maybe that’s why he’s slowing down. When he looked in the rearview mirror again, the closest vehicle was at least a hundred yards back and its lights on dim. He chuckled at himself for letting a pair of headlights spook him. Once more, his mind went back to his home and the comfort he always felt there. Suddenly he felt the jarring impact from behind. The car hit his back bumper with such force that he all but lost control. His cruiser lunged forward as the bright lights of Earl’s station wagon came back on. His car veered to the shoulder and began to fishtail. Quickly, he brought it back under control and jammed the accelerator to the floor, shooting ahead to eighty, then ninety miles an hour, leaving the station wagon far behind. His speedometer indicated a bit over a hundred miles an hour. He had never driven that fast before except in an emergency. He turned on his flashers and raced past the slower moving cars on the highway, certain that the station wagon was not going to go away.

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Suddenly the station wagon shot forward like a cannonball. It swerved to the left and pulled up along side him. He chanced a look at his speedometer and saw that he was speeding at more than a hundred miles an hour. He lifted his foot off the accelerator and brought his speed down. Dave could see someone through the station wagon’s window, someone very large. His hand shook as he reached to his hip and unsnapped his holster. He eased the nine-millimeter Browning out and held it in his right hand. He was trying to get a look at his adversary when the wagon’s passenger window rolled down. Its driver turned on the light inside the wagon and looked directly into Dave’s eyes. Already spooked by the man’s bizarre actions, the officer panicked at the sight of Earl’s other face. He dropped the browning and jerked the car to the right. Hitting the loose gravel along the roadside, he lost control of the car. He was doing almost a hundred miles an hour when his car plunged over the side of the highway and began flipping and rolling, tearing the cruiser apart. Glass and metal flew in every direction. It came to rest on its side nearly two hundred feet from where it left the highway. Big Earl was euphoric. He felt powerful and dangerous, but more than that, he felt the enlivening primacy of pure evil. Chaos had become an art form to him. It required a cool head and perfect timing, not to mention an extraordinary imagination. Why would he need mind-enhancing drugs when he had such an imagination? Rush onward in your endless flight, Oh, giant tyrants of the night. He had never tried to rationalize his lust for destruction, for there was no cogent justification for it – no more than the reason a bully harasses the weak, or why one sibling

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picks on another. Earl had always held that tendency, but what began benignly was rapidly growing into urgency. True, he felt driven, but in a direction of his choosing. Earl was passing cars left and right, frequently at a more than a hundred miles an hour when his scanner picked up another dispatch. There was a truck and trailer overturned on the grade just south of Cotati. That was about eight miles ahead. They would soon hear about the loss of cruiser number 17, but Earl would be well past Cotati where the remaining highway patrol was working. He turned up the volume on the radio and punched the gas pedal again.

Chapter 29 When Shine arrived in front of Grammy Angeni’s house, there were three children on her porch. The boy, who looked to be about nine or ten years old, was knocking on the door. He shut off the motorcycle’s engine and put the kickstand down. He reached the porch just as a very old woman opened the door. She was a short, thin woman, but she stood very straight. Her skin was dark and much wrinkled, and her eyes were black and very alive. Shine had not seen her for over eight years. She had not changed any that he could tell. Her white hair, pulled back and fashioned into a long braid. She had on a simple blue and white flowered dress and wellworn leather shoes. Shine thought it was interesting that the woman had access to substantial wealth generated by her brother Andrew, yet she continued to live as she had for the past sixty years in that old house. Andrew Darkcloud, Shines grandfather, had modern appliances installed in her home, much to her objections. She preferred the old ways, but Andrew did

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not want her to have to be out gathering firewood or washing clothes in an oaken tub when she could be enjoying her twilight years in comfort and ease. “I’ve been expecting you children,” She said, hugging each one. She ushered them into the house before she acknowledged Shine. Once the children were inside, she said, “I’ve been expecting you too, Shine.” “Do you have a hug for me, too, Grammy Angeni?” Shine asked, smiling. Grammy Angeni wrapped her slender arms around him, saying, “Don’t I always?” “Is that cookies I smell?” He said, teasingly. “Just like the little ones,” She said. “I think they might stop coming to see this old woman if I didn’t bake for them.” “Don’t kid yourself, Grammy. Everyone would come to see you even if they had to bring you cookies! The problem is that nobody can make them so good!” “Good thing you came home, Shine,” She said as he released her. “We need you here now. There’s too much trouble here. People already been moving away – and that’s no good.” “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Grammy. I need to know what you think about the night visitors.” “Eat my cookies now, Shine. Then we can talk about them, okay?” She ushered him into her little house where the children were already sitting at the table. Before them was a plate of assorted cookies and glasses of milk. Shine knew that she was telling the truth when she said she was expecting him, because she had the table set for four, and he had never known her to eat when she had guests.

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“We found a dead dog, Shine,” Willy said. “It was all tore up. We buried it, but when we went back there, somebody had dug it back up.” He had a partly eaten cookie in one hand and a glass of milk in another. “You’ve got a white mustache,” Poky said, pointing at the milk on his upper lip. He licked it off with his tongue and took another drink. “Becky found a puppy. We call him Baby, because he’s so little. We want Grammy Angeni to help us name him.” She looked around at the other two kids for conformation. “We want a good name for him,” Becky interjected, “because he’s so brave. He stayed with his mother even though she was dead and everything. Willy said name him Rambo, but I want him to have an Indian name – real good one.” Shine felt something tugging at his bootlace. The pup was in the floor playing under the table. He reached down and picked it up. It jumped to try to lick his face; its small furry body wiggling from nose to tail. He let it jump for a moment and stroked it. The little fellow curled up in Shine’s lap and began licking the back of his hand. Shine looked at Grammy Angeni and asked, “Have you told them yet what his name should be, Grammy?” “No,” she said. “But I think there are two names to choose from. One is Maska; that means strong, and the other is Pallaton, and that means warrior. It’s Becky’s pup, so she can choose which one she likes the best.” Shine gently picked the pup up again, and handing it back to the girl said, “What do you think, Becky, do you like one of those names?” “I like them both so much,” She replied, looking down at the pup she was holding. “Can his name be Maska Pallaton, like a first and a last name? That would mean

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Strong Warrior.” “You can call him as many names as you want to, little princess,” Grammy Angeni said, “But you should teach him just one of them. Call him Maska. That will be easy for him to learn.” Becky smiled down at her puppy and said, “Maska. Do you know that’s your name now? I can’t always call you Baby, because you’re going to become so big and strong.” She held him against her chest and let him lick her chin. She handed him to Poky and they saw that tears were trickling down the older girl’s face. Poky held Maska in her lap and brushed her tears with the back of her hand. “Crybaby,” Willy said. “Girls always cry at everything.” Poky ignored the boy, saying, “Grammy, you know so much. I hope I’m like you when I get older. That’s why we waited to talk to you before Becky named him. We wanted his name to be special.” “A special name, for a special puppy, for a special girl!” Shine announced. “I’m proud of all three of you kids. I’ve heard good things about you and I know that you are strong warriors too.” Turning to the elderly woman, he said, “Grammy, I need to talk to you about some things. Do you have some time now?” “Now is a good time, Shine,” she affirmed, “As soon as these children have all the cookies and milk they can hold.” She held the platter out to them saying, “You kids take all you want. I can bake more.” Willy and Poky each took another off the platter. Becky said, “No, thank you, Grammy, but can I bring Maska back to see you again sometime?” “You children know that you can visit me any old time, and bring Maska too.” Still standing by the table, she ushered the three to the door and hugged each one. When

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they were out on the porch, she quietly closed the door, and turning back to Shine said, “Now we talk.”

Chapter 30 Shine stoked the fire in the fireplace and sat in one of the soft, upholstered chairs. The woman prepared hot tea in an oversized porcelain cup and sat in a rocker beside him. He waited for her to speak. Even though society and customs had changed over the decades, he always honored the old ways when he met with the elders of the band. The elders frowned on rash, impudent behavior. Shine understood the value of showing honor. She sipped her tea and gently rocked for a few minutes, as if collecting her thoughts. When she was ready to speak, she said, “There was a prophecy when I was a girl. One of the old men had a dream. He spoke of it at a council meeting. Not many of us could read or write back then, so we had to remember it. I was about Becky’s age and some of us were being taught by the missionaries.” She was silent for a minute or so, quietly sipping her tea thoughtfully. “When I heard the words of the elder, I wrote it all down. Some of our people believed that reading and writing was taboo. They thought if you write something down, it will happen for sure, so someone stole my papers.” Shine was patient, knowing that whatever the woman had to say would hold some answers. “In his dream, he saw dogs; some like wolves and some were curs. Some were big ones and some not so big. At night, the dogs came. They circled the camp, making no noise, but watching. They waited for the moon. When the moon climbed high in the sky and gave light to the camp, the dogs got their power from the moonlight. The power gave

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them courage and made them glow like the moon. Their leader was the biggest one. He had more power. He had extra eyes to see in the front of him and on both sides of him. He was ugly and had so many teeth that he couldn’t shut his mouth all the way. “They became fierce when their power came to them and they attacked the camp. They killed the men that tried to fight them. Because there was nobody to stop them, they came into our houses. They killed many women and the children.” She placed her empty cup on a table beside her chair and continued. “Many of the people said that it was an evil dream and it was not a true telling. As many years went by, most of the people forgot the telling, but some of us remembered. For many years, we would huddle together with our weapons and clubs near us whenever the moon was bright.” Shine waited several minutes to be sure the woman was finished before he spoke. “Grammy, do you believe that what people are seeing now is the fulfillment of the dream?” “Yes,” She said, “But there is one more thing the elder said of his dream. The man spoke of moondogs,” She continued. “Our word for moondog is diweda-hayu. He said that there will be a warrior who will come to our camp, who draws his power from something good, and if he is brave, he will take away the power of the moondogs.” “Do you know who the warrior is, Grammy?” Shine wanted to know. The woman held his gaze a few moments, then from a small table beside she took a thick black Bible, worn by decades of use, and with both arms held it against her body, as if to draw consolation from it. Her eyes, deep and wise, fixed on Shine again. “The Spirit will show you that, Shine,” she replied somberly. “The Spirit will show you.”

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The three children visitors were down the road about a quarter of a mile, throwing sticks for Maska to chase, when Shine started up his motorcycle. With helmet back on, he eased respectfully out of the woman’s yard and headed toward the highway. The children waved to him as he rode by. Once he was off the reservation road, he headed uphill to the east. The big bike surged effortlessly and quietly up the mountain road. The feel of power always felt good to Shine. Should he need it, he was confident that the motorcycle had more power than he would ever need. Taking the curves at a reasonable speed were enough to let him feel the handling qualities of the Indian Chief. Abe and Warren would already be at Andrew’s cabin.

Chapter 31 The softly lit room came gradually into focus, and then began to twirl. What little light there was, stabbed at his eyes and caused his head to ache. He closed his eyes again and felt as though he was floating four or five feet off the floor, held aloft in a strange empurpled haze. His left arm felt heavy and warm, and something thick around his neck held his head motionless. The bland odor of cafeteria food made him nauseous and at the same time triggered pleasurable memories of his old high school dining hall. He felt himself lost in the baleful fog, sinking back into a shallow sleep…sleep, falling…the lights…the lights too bright… His eyes popped open again. He had no idea as to where he was or how he got there. As he tried to focus on a light fixture high on the wall, the swirled ceiling came down toward him, turning and changing until it became the grinning face of a dreadful

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porcine beast. The image lingered for several seconds, and then faded away. As the illusion faded, its piggish eyes became red like hot embers before they disappeared. The room swallowed itself and began a spiraling again into transfiguring prisms of surreal shapes and shadows. Colors that he could not name glimmered and bent around him. Unsure of where he was or what was happening to him, he tried to speak, but could not form the words. Somewhere in the room, he heard his name spoken, and then – nothing. The last radio transmission the California Highway Patrol office received from Officer Simmons had puzzled the dispatcher. Instead of the usual unflappable voice of the officer, he had heard, “This is unit 17 north of Petaluma… something’s going on here… this guy’s crazy…big red Ford wagon…can’t read the plates…riding my bumper… flashing his headlights….hit me from behind…” “Talk to me, Dave,” The dispatcher said anxiously. “What’s going on there? Dave?” “Here he comes again…Tony, I need…backup…Tony…OH DEAR GOD!” There were only the sounds of the cruiser rattling and banging, then the radio transmission was lost.” The dispatcher sent out an alert. “All units! All units! Unit 17 in trouble. Needs immediate backup. Highway 101 in the Petaluma area. Respond.” Sergeant Eric Evans, a veteran in the department, hurried into the room and said to the dispatcher, “What is it, Tony? That was Dave Simmons, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, Sarge. Evidently there’s a crazy out there. It sounded like someone’s harassing Dave…flashing his brights and ramming Dave’s car.”

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“See if you can get him on the radio again, Tony.” Evans was standing beside the dispatcher, obviously troubled at the unusual call. Tony spoke again into the mouthpiece. “Unit 17, unit 17…respond, unit 17!” But the radio was silent. Tony swiveled his chair and said to the sergeant, “He’s in trouble, Sarge. We’ve got two units en route right now. We ought to know what’s going on pretty soon. Anything else you want me to do?” “There’s not much you can do, Tony, except just stay on top of it.” The Sergeant was about to go out the door when the dispatcher said, “What about Leilani? Do you think we ought to get in touch with her?” Sergeant Evans hesitated for a moment at the door and replied, “Let’s wait until we have something solid, then I’ll give her a call. As soon as I know something, I’ll fill you in.” He closed the door behind him and grabbed his hat and jacket out of his closet. Within the minute, he was pulling out of the parking lot with his flashers on.

Chapter 32 There were two patrol cars with lights flashing and three other vehicles beside the highway when Sergeant Evans arrived at the accident site. The driver of a small pickup ran up to Evans’ car and told him that an ambulance was on its way. He and the drivers of the other two cars had seen the cruiser run off the highway about two hundred yards back. Evans stepped out of his car as an ambulance and a fire truck arrived. The sergeant followed the witness’s direction and saw the wrecked cruiser resting on its top about sixty feet below. There were the two officers and four or five other people gathered around a form on the ground. Someone had put a blanket under the victim’s head and another blanket over his still body.

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“He’s still breathing,” an officer called up to Sergeant Evans. We’re going to need a stretcher to haul him out.” Two medics and several firemen were working their way down the embankment. Quickly and efficiently, they checked the victim for injuries. They fitted him with an oxygen mask and tended to several lacerations. As soon as they were confident it was safe to move him, they placed him on the stretcher. With a rope attached to one end of the stretcher, and three men still on the shoulder of the road, were ready to help pull him up the embankment. With men holding onto the stretcher, they moved him slowly; careful not to jostle him more than was necessary. The shrill siren signaled that Dave was on his way to the hospital. As the ambulance disappeared in the distance, Sergeant Evans returned to his car and called the station on his cell phone. “Tony, we have Dave in the ambulance now. He’s alive, but he’s unconscious. He’s being taken to Santa Rosa Memorial. I’ll call Leilani and let her know. Meanwhile, we have three witnesses that I need to talk too. This is now a crime scene, and I want to find whoever caused this.” “Was he run off the road, you think, Sarge?” Tony wanted to know. “I’m not totally sure what happened here, but we have witnesses that say it was done purposely. Didn’t Dave tell you that a big Ford station wagon was ramming Dave’s cruiser?” “Yes, I have the transcript of the call here. The Ford flashed his brights and rammed him a time or two,” Tony answered. “That’s not all of it, Tony,” Evans said. “They were traveling at over a hundred miles an hour. There was something more going on, and I have to find out what it was. I

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think the perp is monitoring us on a scanner, so keep that in mind when you use the radio.” “You got it, Sarge. Anything else?” “No, not now. I’ll keep you posted.”

Chapter 33 After calling Dave Simmon’s wife Leilani, the sergeant spent a few minutes with the witnesses. That done, he drove directly to the hospital. When he arrived, the paramedics were still at the ER. They had completed their reports and were about to leave. “Were you the team that brought in Dave Simmons?” he said to one of the uniformed men standing by the door. “The HP officer? Yes, he’s in ER now,” the young black man answered. His nametag read, Walt Watkins. “He has a broken arm. If he needs surgery on it, they’ll take him right into the operating room. He’s had some head and neck trauma, but he’s in good shape when you think about that wreck. Did you see the cruiser? There’s not much left of it.” “Yeah, I saw it. It’s a wonder that he survived at all. Thank God for seat belts and air bags. Where will he go after they take care of that arm?” “They’re getting a room ready for him. He’s going to need some x-rays to determine the extent of the damage. If they can set the bone easily they will do that first; if not, he’ll likely be scheduled for surgery early tomorrow. Either way, he should be in his room within an hour.”

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“Do you know if his wife is here yet?” “Yeah, I think it was his wife. She got here just ahead of you. One of the ER doctors let her see him for a few minutes, but I think she’s in the waiting room now. You know how it is when something like this happens – you can think you’ve got everything under control, and then everything goes south on you,” the paramedic sighed. “Don’t I know it,” the Sergeant said. “I’d better go check on her. Thanks for all you guys did for him. You may have saved his life.” Leilani Simmons sat in the waiting room with a wad of tissues twisted in her hand, her otherwise pretty face wrought with worry. Dave and Leilani had met at the Naval Station in Pearl Harbor when she was eighteen and he was only a few months older. For a California boy, the dark eyed beauty, with long black hair that reached to her waist, appeared exotic and dazzling. He was one of hundreds of young sailors who ate their meals in the busy mess hall. Day by day, he watched for her and tried to choose a table that gave him a view of the large, bustling room. His gaze followed her as she cleaned the tables and straightened the misplaced chairs. Frequently, he would see her talking to some of the men, and he feared that they were making dates with her. She, however, smiling cheerfully, simply showed them her hand so they would see the ring she wore, and move to her next task. Once Dave caught on that it was an engagement ring, his hopes were daunted, but he could still take in her beauty and grace as she moved among the tables. Lovesick, he put all of his energies into his duties, determining to be the best sailor he could be. Then one day, as the pretty Hawaiian girl passed by his table, a sailor seated nearby stood and unintentionally bumped her arm. The tray she was carrying clattered

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onto Dave’s table. He jumped to his feet when he saw the tray coming at him, but it was too late. Stale coffee and food splashed onto his uniform. Leilani tried to apologize, taking a cloth and wiping off what stains she could. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said. “If you let me have your clothes, I’ll go wash them for you.” When she realized what she said, she was embarrassed even more, and Dave could not help but laugh. He could imagine himself standing there in the mess hall in his skivvies and handing her his uniform. All eyes in the mess hall were on them as Leilani was scrubbing on the front of Dave’s shirt and pants, and both of them laughing in embarrassment. While Leilani thought it was the most terrible moment of her life, Dave considered it his luckiest day ever. “I wish there was something I could do to tell you how badly I feel,” she said. “Of everyone in here, it had to be you. I feel so terrible about it.” “What do you mean, ‘It had to be me?” “I didn’t mean it like that,” she replied. “Meant…I’m not sure what I meant.” “I’m not an officer, or anything,” he said. “I’m just a guy a long way from home. If anybody was going to spill lunch on me, I’d rather it be you than anybody else I can think of.” She stopped and looked up at him. “Why do you say that,” she said. “Every day when I come in here, I try to get up the courage to speak to you, but with all the other guys hitting on you, I didn’t want you to think I was like that…and I saw your engagement ring.”

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“I’m not engaged,” she said pensively. “I wear the ring so that it makes it easier to say ‘no’. Not that I would say ‘no’ to you, but just to those other guys.” Feeling as though she was making things worse, she paused, covering the ring with the damp cloth in her other hand. “Then would you be interested in going to a movie with me?” he ventured. They were standing so close that he could smell her perfume. At that moment, she was the most alluring thing he had seen in all of his nineteen years. “Yes,” she breathed. “When?” “Tonight?” “I have church tonight. Would tomorrow night be ok?” “That’s perfect,” he said, “but I don’t have a car. Maybe I can rent one.” “I have one,” she said, still holding his eyes with hers, “I can pick you up out front. Just tell me when.” “Is seven ok? Or seven-thirty?” “Seven-thirty,” the girl said happily. “That will give me time to change. I’ll pick you up here.” Dave’s lunch never tasted so good. He looked at his watch and hurried to finish. They dated for the three years that he was on the island, then after a traditional Hawaii wedding, began their new lives together in California. The waiting room was quiet at 1:30 in the morning. Sergeant Eric Evans sat beside Mrs. Simmons for a few moments before he spoke. “They say that Dave’s going to make it,” he said. “It was a miracle that he survived at all, if you believe in miracles.”

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“Oh, I do, Eric,” Leilani said. ”I’ve done nothing but pray for him ever since you called me. I must look a mess.” She ran her hand over her hair, “But he’s going to be fine; we just have to believe that.”

Chapter 34 For the past week, Stan the Wah-Wah Man loitered and panhandled around the main casino door. With a week’s growth of beard and rumpled clothes that looked slept in, Stan’s intentions seemed to be to make as many friends as he could. According to what he told those he put the touch on, he lost his job, was robbed, and the Mafia had a contract out on his life. His best story, however, was that he was a soon-to-be heir of a Microsoft fortune. He never asked for much, he only needed enough money for a bus ticket back to Seattle. His stories changed often, depending on what he thought would bring the best results. Presently, he had some tunes going for Bogie Boguard and Hershel Miller. The two friends usually hung out together. As soon as Stan finished a tune for Hershel, Bogie pushed another dollar into the minstrel’s hand with yet another request. Whatever people thought of him, none could deny that he played the harmonica as well as anyone they had ever heard. He could play anything from Beethoven to Blues. Few believed his stories, but they truly enjoyed his music. They usually gave him a dollar or two along with request to play their favorite tunes. Stan always obliged them, not so much out of gratitude as his love to entertain. Before entering the casino, Shine listened to one of Stan’s stories. Stan needed some traveling money. He had spotted a suspicious looking man appearing from time to time on the reservation, so Stan was sure that the mob had found him. Shine gave him ten

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dollars. Shine had no idea how much money Stan collected each day, but he estimated it to be considerable. Shine entered the casino entry to wait for Abe and his friends. The noisy slot machines rattled and chimed, while the music and chatter went on unending. A large man, perhaps fifty years old, wearing a cream white western suit and a white Stetson, sat at a blackjack table. An unlit cigar hung out the corner of his mouth. The man seemed to be controlling the action at the table. Tapping the table, the big cowboy called for another card. Two other men and a woman sat on either side of him. Obviously enjoying himself, he roared with pleasure when he chanced to win. Shine was astonished that the man seemed to be winning every hand. Near the door, a dark, slender man dressed in a casino uniform, was watching the table with interest. His nametag read, Roberto Nunez. Shine approached him, saying, “How are you doing, Roberto, your arm doing ok?” “Not bad, Shine. I had to start rabies treatment, though, and that’s worse than a dog bite.” “So I’ve heard. How are things here? Does it always get busy here at night, or is this your usual crowd?” “This is pretty good for this time of the year,” Roberto replied, “but we’ll get another twenty percent or more when people get off work. Right now, quite a few guests are in the dining room.” “I’ve eaten in the Café several times. The food is good. How is it in the dining room?”

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“It’s better than it was. We have a new chef. She came here from Seattle – won all kinds of awards up there. The food is better and the service is much faster. Now you don’t have to sit and wait an hour for your steak. You should try the Steakhouse.” “Thanks, Roberto, that’s the plan for tonight. I have some friends coming any minute,” Shine said. “Try the rib eye,” Roberto advised, “that or the prime rib. We get our beef from ranchers in Potter Valley and Covelo. It’s the best we could find anywhere.” Roberto was keeping an eye on the blackjack table. The surveillance staff would be watching their monitor. Keeping the dealers and the clients honest was a 24-7 job. “There are three more coming to meet me. I know you’re busy, so I’ll just wait here for them,” Shine said. Roberto gripped Shine’s hand, saying, “Yeah, sure. It’s good to have you here, Shine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” “All good I hope,” Shine responded. “If anything bad comes my way, I’ll just deny the allegations and defy the alligators.” Roberto pulled some tickets out of his pocket and handed them to Shine. “That’s lame, Shine, really lame!” Roberto laughed. “Here, take these to the cashier. Dinner for you and your friends is on the house tonight.”

Chapter 35 The blackjack dealer at the table where Earl was playing closed the table and hurried to the employee’s lunchroom. Roberto had been observing her for the past half hour. He entered the lunchroom just in time to see her take a prescription bottle out of her

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handbag. She uncapped the bottle and swallowed one or two of the long, white pills. She was drinking from the water cooler when he said, “What’s going on, Tammy? What drugs are you taking?” Startled by his abrupt questions, she sat down at the table and with her head in her hands, sobbing. Her name was Tammy Crow, Terry and Becky’s mother. Since her husband’s accident, she had to take responsibility to provide for their small family. “It’s paroxetine. I got it from the doctor for when I’m stressed out. I’ve been careful with it. Please, Roberto, I know I’m acting weird, but I have to keep my job. Here,” she said, handing him the medicine bottle, “you can see for yourself that it’s not street drugs.” “Whoa, Tammy, I believe you. I could tell something was wrong at your table.” He paused to read the information on the prescription label. “Whatever is the matter, we can fix it together. Believe me, I wish we had twenty dealers like you. You aren’t about to get fired. Now tell me, what about that big guy at the table.” He pushed a tissue box across the table to her. Tammy took a tissue and blotted her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m not sure. One of us is crazy, him or me, and I’m not sure which.” “So tell me, did he threaten you?” “No, he’s been very friendly…but the way he looked at me…” “Was he leering at you? Did he say something to you that was personal?” “It was kind of leering, but different.” Roberto was patient, letting her take all the time she needed. Obviously, whatever was troubling her was something significant. He laid his hand over hers and said,

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“Tammy, we’re friends. Friends help each other, and you can be sure that we will watch that man carefully. Just don’t put yourself in a situation where you are alone with him. Can you promise me that?” With a fresh tissue in her hand, she nodded yes. “If I do tell you what I saw – or what I think I saw, you will think for sure that I’m taking drugs.” “No I won’t!” Roberto exclaimed. “We’ve already been through that and I told you that I believe you. So first, please understand that it isn’t good to be in an unsafe situation with someone that you don’t know well. All of us here care about you. Now tell me what you saw.” “It was his face. First it was ok…friendly and all, but after awhile, something changed. His face changed.” “In what way did it change, Tammy?” “It’s hard to explain. Do you know how…if you have a picture, like a computer image, and you superpose another picture over it…it makes a whole new picture?” “Yes, I’m following you?” “Well, his face changed like that, and when it did, he looked like a big old pig, not a cute one either, but like it was wild and nasty.” “Who all saw it? Did the other players at the table see what you saw?” “No, I don’t think so. I think I was the only one that saw his pig face.” “I noticed that he was winning. How did that happen?” “I was scared. I was so scared that I wet my pants.” She started sobbing again. Roberto felt badly for her. He did not want to cause her any embarrassment, but he had to know. Her safety and the safety of everyone else depended on his knowing

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everything about the strange guest. “That’s alright, Tammy. It’s ok to tell me that. It’s just between us, nobody else. I’ve had two occasions where I’ve done the same thing. It embarrassed me, but such is life. I got past it and so can you. Now, what else?” “I just couldn’t concentrate. I kept seeing his face and I think that helped him win. I’m sorry but that’s the truth.” “Did he say anything unusual,” Roberto questioned, “anything to upset you in any way?” “Just one thing,” she said. “Something I heard him say, but I don’t think anyone else at the table heard it. I think he said it just for me to hear.” Roberto waited. Whatever it was, added to the trauma that Tammy was experiencing. He had worked in casinos for close to twenty years and had seen everything from larceny to murder. His best chance to help was to get as many facts together as he could as soon as he could. He would be patient. She would tell him when she got her thoughts together. Her lips trembled as she took another deep ragged breath and said, “He said, ‘I could eat you up.’”

Chapter 36 Ernie Goodman was the last to board the school bus that Wednesday. He removed his jacket and proceeded slowly toward the rear of the bus, smiling at some of the riders and scowling at others. Most of the school kids were quiet whenever he showed up, but some of the more raucous boys hissed their assessment of him barely loud enough for

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him to hear, but not so much that he could identify the troublemakers. Pervert! Pervert Ernie! Snicker, snicker. He chose to ignore them, though he would have loved to have dragged them off the bus and beat the dickens out of them. Another time. He could find them easily enough. He had plans for the day, and no snot-nose boys were going to spoil that. As usual, he moved two smaller boys out of their seats and made Becky sit there. He sat down next to her and folded his jacket onto his lap. “I thought that I might drop by your house today, Becky,” Ernie said. “I need to talk to your parents about your choice of friends. You know that I’m so concerned about you.” The sky became darker and sprinkles of rain blew against the window. She sat close to the window, but the man merely moved nearer. Becky was close to tears, but she determined not to cry. In the seat across from them, Poky waited and watched. She clutched her comb with the sharpened tip firmly in her fist. If he did anything to Becky, she planned to plant the sharp point into his miserable hairy neck. “You don’t need to come to our house,” Becky said quietly, “my parents won’t be there.” As soon as she said it she knew that she had made a mistake. “But Grammy Angeni is usually there. She comes to my house every day to check on me.” She bit her lower lip as she always did when she said something that wasn’t true. “I’ve never met your Grammy, Becky. I understand that she’s very old. Hmmm, I wonder what a woman her age would want to talk about. She would probably want to say that a little girl could go to hell for lying. Do you think that she would be upset with you

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if she thought that you’re a little liar, Becky?” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Despite her vow not to cry, she felt warm tears start to develop. Becky looked out the bus window and tried to shut him out of her mind. Silently she whispered, “I won’t think about him. I won’t think about him.” But that, of course, caused her to be even more aware of him. Meanwhile, Poky, across the aisle, her dark eyes blazing, was busily drawing a fingernail file deftly over the tip of her rattail comb. Holding her project out of sight, she touched the slim, tapered end of its handle, and with surreptitious satisfaction, smiled. As sharp as a needle! It’s for you, Weirdo. It’s got your name on it!

Chapter 37 It was a cold and drizzly afternoon; and Becky’s breath fogged the window. The man seated beside her was humming a Christmas carol. She cleared enough fog off the window with her hand to get a better view of the cars and trucks traveling in the opposite direction. The yellow school bus made its stops in Hopland and then turned eastward on highway 175 toward the reservation. There were still eighteen or twenty students aboard, quiet now, waiting for their stops. Some of the kids, though warned to stay in their seats, were in the aisle and at the door as soon as the door opened. The bus signaled and made a left turn from Highway 175 down the hill onto the little reservation, stopping at the casino parking lot to let its passengers off. The moment it came to a complete stop, the remainder of the students jumped up from their seats and moved briskly to the passenger door. Ernie stood and let Becky out in front of him. As

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she climbed out of her seat, she looked for Poky and saw her waiting to get in line behind Ernie. In a matter of seconds, the bus was empty, except for the driver. “Hey, Ernie!” the driver called out. “Do you need a ride back to town?” “No, I’m ok,” he replied, looking over his shoulder as he walked toward the casino. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The driver closed the passenger door and turned the bus around, leaving the odorous trail of burned diesel fuel as it roared back up the hill toward the highway. Ernie walked into the voluminous gaming room, always fascinated with the lights and the noise with country music blaring on the sound system, all of which created a pleasurably disorienting effect for him. He headed to the bar for a few shots of courage. Spotting Wally at the bar, he took a tall stool beside him and put his elbows up on the counter. Wally Lane was a night shift janitor at the casino. What time he was not working or sleeping, he was at the bar. The truth be known, he was there much of the time when he was sleeping. As a permanent fixture there, so to speak, nobody minded him catching a few winks here and there. After all, aside from the rent of a small house trailer on the reservation, the casino took back all of his wages, because he ate there, drank there and gambled there. A short lean man in his fifties, Wally had long ago traded his striking afro hairstyle for an entirely shaved head. Ernie was sure that Wally used wax on his head to shine it, because his head gleamed like the polished hood of a black Cadillac. His silver studded Levi boot cut jeans was a perfect fit, and as a tribute to his dress taste, he wore a

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pair of black Mark Nason dress boots. His shirt was a forest green turtleneck and the gold chain he wore supported a small jeweled cross. They sat side by side for a full two minutes before either spoke. “Ernie, do you believe in Jesus?’ “Do you mean, ‘Do I believe there was a man by that name’?” Ernie queried. He still was not used to Wally blindsiding him with his capricious style of philosophy. “Well, yeah, Ernie. Do you believe in the story about baby Jesus? And what all he wrote in the bible?” Those kinds of questions upset Ernie. Wally always framed them in such a way that the answer always came out yes and no. He really didn’t want to get into a debate with Wally, but Ernie liked the free drinks whenever they were together at the bar. “Yes, I do believe that there was a baby Jesus, and later he had quite a following. But Wally, Jesus never wrote anything. Other people wrote it long after Jesus died. What’s got you going on this anyhow?” “We ain’t going to live forever, Ernie, there’s a reckoning time coming. I had a dream last night and it’s got me scared.” He finished his drink and gestured to the bartender for more. “I don’t want to go to hell, but it sure looks like that’s where I’m headed unless I can get things right before I die. Do you believe in hell, Ernie?” “There he goes again,” Ernie thought, “suckering me into his muddled phobias.” Following Wally’s lead, he signaled for a second drink. “Wally,” he said, “hell is what we make it here on earth. It’s just like heaven; you can make your own heaven by pursuing and achieving your dreams.” “Do you have dreams that you’re pursuing, Ernie?”

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Ernie could tell that Wally had been at the bar for quite a long time and had consumed more than his share of booze. He said, “Yes, I have some very nice dreams.” “What are they? What are your dreams about, Ernie?” Ernie was beginning to get angry at Wally’s inane questions. He put his glass down and said, “My dreams are private, Wally. I don’t tell anybody my dreams. If I did they wouldn’t ever come true.” “It’s good that you’ve got big dreams, Ernie,” Wally ceded. “I used to have some, but somehow they just faded away. You know I used to be a chef at the Waldorf Hotel down in San Francisco. I went to the culinary school there in San Francisco then hired out as a cook in a few restaurants. That was all right with me, but when they fired the head chef at the hotel, they gave me a chance. I guess they liked my work, because I was head chef there for eighteen years.” “Why did they fire the other head chef?” Ernie asked. Wally held up his shot glass saying, “This right here.” “Then why did you lose your job and come here, Wally?” Wally held his glass up again and said, “This right here.” Ernie looked at his watch and said, “I’d better get moving, it’s after four. Thanks, Wally, for the drinks.” “Just one more thing,” Wally said. Ernie stopped and looked at Wally. “Part of my dream was about you.” Putting down his drink, he added gravely, “You died.”

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Chapter 38 Wally’s last remark bit into Ernie’s conscience and stuck there. He shook his head from side to side as if to rid his mind of it. Wally had lost his sensibility a long time ago, but sometimes his remarks would not die easily. Ernie sauntered toward the front door of the casino with visions of graves and coffins and old bones – his bones – rattling in his head. He stopped beside a slot machine and inserted a quarter. He pulled the lever, expecting nothing, and nothing he got. It didn’t bother him that he failed to win. It did give him a chance, however, to scan the blackjack tables for Tammy Crow. She was standing with her back to him, talking to a pit boss. One less person to worry about. He left the casino and crossed the parking lot toward the gym. With a practiced eye, he watched the roads and scanned the people along the way. His sense of awareness had kept him safe so far, and he didn’t plan to let himself be found out because of some stupid slip up. He walked past his pickup, which sat beside the road beneath the trees. A casino worker who had borrowed it earlier that day left it there. Outside the gym, several teenagers were clustered together talking about whatever teenagers talk about. Ernie figured they would probably be dead from drugs or in prison by the time they were twenty years old. He imagined the best thing for them to do – and best for everyone else – was simply for them to shoot each other and save the government the trouble. The one he was watching for, Becky’s brother, Terry, was with the group of boys. He passed them and opened the gym door. The sound of bouncing basketballs echoed in

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the building along with the usual chatter from the players. Scanning the crowd, he spotted Becky’s father on the sideline, shouting encouragement to the team of high school girls. Satisfied, he returned to his pickup and found the key in its bed. He unlocked the truck and started the engine. On the road, he found a place to turn the truck around and drove up the hill past a collection of houses to a long gravel driveway. Parking on the side of the road, he turned off the engine. In the truck, he could watch the house without being obvious. The only vehicle parked near the house was an old car that had sat there for months and Ernie was confident that it was out of commission. He walked up the driveway to the house and stood on the front porch to listen. It was Spongebob Squarepants’ silly laugh and the unmistakable voice of Mr. Crab. Ernie knew all the cartoon characters and could impersonate most of their voices. If you want to be friends with children, you need to know what their interests are: Pedophilia 101. But, of course, Ernie would never admit to that. He turned one time more to survey the area around the house, and then he rapped on the front door.

Chapter 39 “I entered Sarah’s code into the computer just as she wrote it on the note,” Andrew Darkcloud said. “Here, you can see how it looks.” JGK21RW18XS13MV23VVS4QW18LL13CD22DW9BE2RRR25YQ2TK 9ML18XC5HH22WX9 GGH15PZ26EU25UJU18DM13TTE24QQ2SEF G15JH26BV9ZXX14YR6YY7PU26AW13VX7JJ23LK12QS20BV8ZQS4F F18FH7EE19DDC11SS19WW12KL8GA11EW19KY12LL9TJ6ED8GDF 17AA22YR15TU15GF2GS21DF18WQ8ZC19 TRT20WS22AQ13G T22 EWE23TT26GF13BN20QW22LK9 DED23QX26MW13QQ20KG22R E9

”It don’t look like nothin’ to me,” Abe commented. “I can’t see any words in there – just a jumble of letters and numbers.” 221

“That’s all you’re supposed to see,” the old man said. “If you could read it easily, then it wouldn’t be a code. This one isn’t a real hard one, but it’s fairly complex. I think Sarah purposely obfuscated the message to make it difficult for the average person, but she was counting on you finding a way to figure it out.” “Obfu-what? What does that mean? Don’t you know any English words, Gramps?” Abe asked, shaking his head. Andrew looked up from the screen and said, “I’m sorry, Abe, sometimes I just talk without thinking. I simply meant that your daughter cleverly disguised the message by changing the text to create symbols with which to deceive some and to instruct others.” “Oh, man…,” Abe muttered, rolling his eyes toward Shine, “just go on with it. I’ll shut up.” “Too hard to easily decode it, but simple enough once you find the key,” Shine added. “Grandfather has had experience breaking codes, that’s why I gave it to him, Abe. I knew that he was our best chance.” “First I tried to isolate the lettering to find a clue, but that didn’t work. I tried to rearrange them and that didn’t either. It starts with an easy code that anyone could solve if you match the numbers with the letters of the alphabet. That itself was a clue, because there are no numbers in the message higher that 26. As you know, there are twenty-six letters in our alphabet.” “So in reality, the numbers represent letters?” Abe guessed. “Exactly! But of course on the first try, that didn’t work either. See here – when I made 1 equal A and 2 equal B and 3 equal C, and so on, it looked like this.”

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1=A 2=B 3=C 4=D 5=E 6=F 7=G 8=H 9=I 10=J 11=K 12=L 13=M 14=N 15=O 16=P 17=Q 18=R 19=S 20=T 21=U 22=V 23=W 24=X 25=Y 26=Z “So I used that key on the first line and it came out like you see here.” URMWDRMVIBYB “Then I had two problems with that.” “The letters didn’t spell anything, and the numbers are still coded,” Shine observed. “Exactly,” the old man agreed. “So I pondered it overnight, and in the morning I realized something that I hadn’t thought of before. Take a look at that last line in the message.” “Sorry, Grandfather,” Shine said, “I still don’t see anything meaningful to me.” “But when you think about it,” The Andrew continued, “the numbers repeat exactly, but the letters do not. See here…Sarah gave us the key.” 23-26-13-20-22-9 23-26-13-20-22-9 “Yes, I do see that now,” Shine said. “Somewhere a message has to have an alphabet, so she gave one, but only to disguise the code. You figured that the letters are there to take attention away from the numbers, so at that point you concentrated just on the numbers?” “Yes, in a sense, but the alphabet key was still wrong. I know it seems simple, but I think Sarah wanted it to be decoded quickly. Some of these things can take weeks to decode.” The old man scrolled down the page. “Now take a look at this,” He said. “What

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if I reverse the alphabet and make A equal 26 and Z equal 1? Because that last line repeats itself in numbers, I worked on that. Now look. Here is the key.” A=26 B=25 C=24 D=23 E=22 F=21 G=20 H=19 I=18 J=17 K=16 L=15 M=14 N=13 O=12 P=11 Q=10 R=9 S=8T=7 U=6 V=5 W=4 X=3 Y=2 Z=1 “With this simple key, the last two number sets, 23-26-13-20-22-9 – 23-26-1320-22-9, turn out like this: DANGER - DANGER.

Chapter 40 The men were huddled around the computer screen, realizing that they were looking at the last communication Abe had received from his daughter. “I have the whole message now,” Grandfather said, scrolling down more. The numbers in the message are these.” 22 18 13 23 4 18 13 22 9 2 25 2 9 18 5 9 15 26 25 18 13 24 22 15 15 22 9 14 6 7 22 13 7 23 12 20 8 4 18 7 19 11 19 12 8 11 19 12 9 6 8 17 22 15 15 2 21 18 8 19 20 22 13 22 23 26 13 20 22 9 23 26 13 20 22 9 “Then decoded, they become this.” FIND WINERY BY RIVER LAB IN CELLAR MUTANT DOGS WITH PHOSPHORUS JELLYFISH GENE DANGER DANGER “What I discovered was that the letters in the code were used to separate the numbers. They didn’t represent any message at all; they were there to bury the message and to help create words. They had no meaning alone.”

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Abe could not take his eyes off the decoded words. His daughter had sent them, therefore the words meant hope; hope that had been previously fading by the day. The police had no leads, and they did not have the personnel to put on the case full time. The FBI had Sarah on their missing persons list, but they had not been returning Abe’s calls. The seriousness of the issue did not permit Abe to get his hopes up too much. He was however, encouraged by the recent breakthrough. Still, she was in danger and he had not been able to rescue her. “What I see,” Shine said,” Is that sometimes there are three letters, and then only two separating the numbers.” “Very observant, Son,” the old man said, “But can you tell us why?” “Yes, I think so,” Shine said. “Where two letters are used, they separate the letters, and when three are used, they signify the beginning of a word. But what I don’t understand is why the FBI has had this note all along but they weren’t able to figure it out, Gramps?” “Because it came in under the radar, so to speak,” the old man said. “They were handling it as a complex code. Simply put, it was too elementary, and the mixture of letters and numbers could never be deciphered.” “Have mercy!” Abe exclaimed with an air of exasperation. “But why didn’t she just tell me that? Why did she code it at all? I know my daughter, and she wouldn’t do that just to confuse me.” “I wondered that, too, Abe,” Shine replied. “I think Sarah knows you pretty well, and she was concerned that you would go storming in with guns blazing. That way, it gave you time to cool off.”

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Abe was silent for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I guess she knows me pretty good. I can’t tell you how many times I put guns in my saddlebags and just cruised around, praying that I would see some sign of her so I could rescue her. It’s been a nightmare, Shine. A nightmare.” “So there you have it,” Andrew said. “The code is broken and you have your message. Now it’s time to find that laboratory. How are the boys coming along with their training?” “On schedule,” Shine said. As you know, they have quite a bit of experience on dirt bikes, and that’s probably the most important thing. Their use of weapons could use more practice, but I don’t want to set the standard too high for now. Abe here is a natural. Out of a hundred practice shots with a bow, he nailed the bullseye 97 times. You can’t really teach that in such a short time. It’s an innate ability, I suppose.” “What about Warren,” the old man wanted to know. “Warren’s was 86. Not bad at all. He’s put quite a bit into it. He might be practicing more than he should be, but we’re all in too much of a hurry, but what else can you do?” Shine showered and prepared for bed. The team was coming together more quickly than he had anticipated, and with the code broken he was that much closer to finding Abe’s daughter. Across the hall, Andrew listened and chuckled to himself. He could hear his grandson singing again. …cause the eyes of a ranger are upon you, Any wrong you do, he's gonna see… Chapter 41

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The only sound at the Crow house was coming from the television inside. Ernie Goodman stood on the porch of the modest home listening for any other voices inside. He had become quite the master of patience and caution. He had known of too many whose reputations were sullied, merely being too impatient and too anxious. “Good things come to them that wait,” that’s what his mother always said. The sharp rapping on the door startled Becky. She pulled back the curtain and looked out the window to see if Ernie’s truck was in the driveway. It was not there. She did not like being afraid of the man. She did not like being afraid at all, but even at her age, she knew something was evil about him. Expecting it to be Poky on the porch, she let out the breath she was holding and unlocked the door. When she opened it, the man stepped inside. “Well, hello Becky.” He said, looking past her to see if there might be others in the house. “Are your parents here? I thought we could have a little chat if they are.” Becky felt her knees wobble when she saw who it was. She quickly backed away from him, saying, “I think my dad is in the back yard. I can go look if you want me to.” Ernie said, “No, no! It’s okay Becky, really. I won’t hurt you, I just came to visit. Let’s sit down and have a talk – just the two of us.” He crossed the room before she could reach the hallway and grabbed her by the wrist. “I saw your mother at work in the casino, and your dad is in the gym, coaching the basketball team. But if you and I can work things out, there’s really no reason to tell your parents. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble anyhow.” “It’s ok to talk to them,” she said, hoping that he couldn’t sense the fear in her voice, “you can come back after my dad gets home.” She tried to pull away from him, but

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he held on tightly. He pushed her down onto the couch and sat close beside her. I don’t know what’s wrong with kids these days. You try to be nice to them and they treat you like dirt. Well, nobody is going to treat Ernie Goodman like dirt. Not any more they aren’t. Not if I have anything to say about it. “Now you sit there!” he demanded. “We’ll watch cartoons together awhile, then I need to talk to you. There’s no reason for you to act like this. I’m not exactly a stranger, you know. I sit with you every day on the school bus and I protect you from the bigger kids.” Neither of them noticed that Spongebob was not talking anymore, and that a little boy with a milk mustache was saying how very good his choice of cereal was. Becky did not know what Ernie had in mind, but she knew that whatever it was, it would be absolutely the worst. She looked down at her one free hand wishing that she had some kind of weapon in it. If Poky were here she would not be so afraid – Poky, with her rattailed comb that was as sharp as a needle. She started to cry, but then she stopped. That’s what he wants, but he’s not going to see me cry. Even if he kills me, I’m not going to let him see me cry. “Becky, look at me,” he said softly. She continued to examine her right hand in her lap. He put his arm around her slender shoulder and lifted her chin so that she was facing him. “Look at me,” he said, this time more sternly. “You and I can be very good friends, you know. If you would just realize how much you mean to me, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Your parents don’t care about you.” “Yes they do,” the little girl replied, “they love me.” “Then why aren’t they here when you get home from school? Your mother spends

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most of her time at the casino, and who knows what all she does there. She spends too much time at the bar. I know, because I’ve watched her. And your father had rather play basketball with those high school girls. He likes girls that age, you know. You’re just a nuisance to him, he didn’t want you in the first place, but I really care about you. I’m the only real friend you have.” Becky fixed her gaze on the television, even though she didn’t really know what Spongebob was doing or saying – she just didn’t want to listen to what Ernie was telling her.

Chapter 42 From the front window, they were both surprised to see a reservation police car pull into the driveway and stop. Becky felt some hope and began to struggle from Ernie’s grip. If only they will come to the house. Please come here! Please come to the house! An officer got out of the car and looked toward the house. He took a note pad from his shirt pocket and studied it for a moment. Ernie was worried. How had he slipped up? Not that he had done anything wrong, but you never know what someone will think. He had been careful not to do anything that would draw attention to him. The only thing that would betray him would be if they discovered his criminal record, and he had been able to avoid that ever since he returned to the area. He put his hand tightly over Becky’s mouth. “Not a word!” He cautioned her. “If you make a sound, I’ll have to kill you. You know that, don’t you? I don’t want to, but I’ll have to.” Becky nodded yes. She also knew that even if she did scream, it was unlikely

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that anybody would hear her at that distance. She felt her hopes crumple when the car backed out on the road and drive away. Ernie waited and watched the car disappear. “You little witch!” Ernie shouted, slapping her sharply across her face. “You would have turned against me, wouldn’t you?” She tried to pull away while shaking her head. “No, no,” she replied, her voice barely audible. “I just want my dad.” Ernie was livid. He felt his pulse pounding in his chest and head. He pushed her down on the sofa forcefully and punched at her head with his fist. Both her hands free, she held them over her head to ward off the blows. Then they heard its terrifying snarl! It was standing in the hallway, its lips pulled back in a hateful sneer, its small, needle-sharp teeth exposed and ready. Ernie stopped his assault on the girl, surprised at the wolf-like pup that faced him. He grabbed a figurine from the sofa table and threw it. The porcelain statue shattered against the wall a few inches to the right of the animal. With a scream of fury, the four-month-old pup shot across the room and leaped upon Ernie’s chest, biting and slashing at the man’s face and neck, gashing the flaccid flesh until blood covered his face and shirt. The few seconds of assault had its intended effect. Ernie no longer was thinking about the girl, but rather on surviving the unexpected turn of events. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbing the angry pup with both hands, threw it to the floor. Maska landed painfully on his side and rolled immediately to his feet. As the pup resumed his attack, the dismayed man ran to the door, receiving painful tearing bites on his ankles and legs. Across the porch and down the driveway he ran, the pup snarling and biting his legs

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with every step. In his haste, he tripped in the gravel and fell. Maska was immediately on his back, biting at his neck. He reached around to grab the pup, only to feel the sharp teeth pierce and tear at his hand. In frantic effort, he stood and flung the pup to the driveway. He tried kicking it away, only to receive numerous new wounds. By the time he reached his truck, he had lost a considerable amount of blood. Becky, who was watching from the porch, called to Maska. She was afraid that the pup would kill Ernie, and her fear was well justified, because had she not called him back, he would have finished the job inside the cab of the pickup. When the pup heard her call his name, he let go of Ernie’s leg and backed away from him, still snarling defiantly. Ernie, bloody and torn, jerked the truck door open and with some effort, crawled inside. He slammed the door shut and rolled the window up all the way, relieved to be at last safe from the animal. He tried to get his hand into his pocket for the ignition keys, only to find that his right hand, so viciously chewed, was temporarily useless. It took him a few minutes to retrieve the keys with his left hand. When finally he had them, they dropped to the floor of the truck, slippery with blood. Five minutes passed before Becky heard the truck start up and then drive out of sight. Maska lay in her lap, still trembling from the ferocious encounter. Her hands and clothes were wet with blood from the pup’s face and fur, but fortunately, it was not hers or Maska’s blood. Regardless of the painful lumps that had already started to develop on her head where Ernie had punched her, she was smiling.

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Chapter 43 The nine-year-old Willy Smart was cutting across the field to Becky’s house when the front door burst open and a man stumbled out. His face and shirt streaked with blood, he ran across the porch and down the driveway. Behind him came the ferocious pup, angrily snarling and biting at the man’s feet and legs. Halfway to the road, it leaped up and bit the man’s buttocks, causing him to lurch forward and fall on his face in the gravel. The pup was immediately on Ernie’s back, biting brutally at the back of the terrified man’s neck. Willy hid behind the shrubs that lined the drive and watched. He had no idea why Maska was after the man, but he was certain that the pup had a good reason. He didn’t believe for a moment that the gentle Maska was inherently vicious as were the other Moondogs. Ernie struggled to his feet, shedding his attacker and sprinting for his truck. Willy waited until the truck drove away, and then with curious purpose, ran to the house. Whatever the story behind the pup’s anger, Becky would tell him. The boy hurried up the steps and onto the porch. Eager to know what was going on, he rapped loudly on the door and paced anxiously back and forth on the porch. When the door opened, Maska ran to him and jumped playfully, pawing at his legs. He picked the pup up and held him, getting blood on the front of his shirt. Beckys hair was mussed and her face had begun to swell where Ernie had punched her, but she was grinning broadly. “Maska protected me!” She announced

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proudly. “Ernie was hitting me and Maska bit him all over. He was so brave! You should have seen him! I knew he would protect me.” She took the chubby pup from Willy and held him close against her chest. Its heartbeat, pounding a few minutes ago, had slowed to normal. He had grown remarkably since they found him. She held him with her arm around his chest, allowing his back legs to hang down clownishly. Maska heard her say his name and responded by jerking his head up and licking her chin. “What was Ernie doing to you?” Willy questioned. “Do you need to go to the hospital? When I fell out of the tree last summer, I had to go to the hospital – but I just said I was okay – I just got all bruised. I didn’t know that my arm was broken.” “I’m okay,” Becky replied as she placed the pup back down on the floor. “Maska saved my life.” “Was that old weirdo trying to kill you?” Willy kept pressing. “If I was here I would a’ knocked him out and then I’d a’ tied him up. He’s just lucky that I wasn’t here.” Becky was hardly listening to Willy; she was still thinking about how fiercely Maska had chased Ernie away.

Chapter 44 The moment Vern Crow came through the front door, he knew that something was wrong. Becky had done a good job of straightening up the house after the incident, but there were still bloodstains on the sofa and on the door. She was sitting on the couch, waiting for her father to come home, with Maska lying beside her with his head on her

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lap. Smiling, she jumped up to run to her dad, but the pup got there first, leaping into Vern’s arms. Vern hugged both of them, saying, “Becky, are you alright? What happened here?” He put the pup down and lifted his daughter into his arms, seeming to forget that she wasn’t a first grader any more. “Daddy, Maska protected me! That old Ernie that everyone thinks is so great was hitting me, so Maska got really mad and he was biting him and chased him away. He chased him all the way to his truck. He really did, Dad! Maska is a hero.” Vern put her down, astonished by what she was saying. “Ernie? Do you mean Ernie Goodman?” Vern asked, surprised that Ukiah’s favorite citizen would do something like that. He had heard things the kids had said about him, but it was hard to believe it because Ernie seemed such a helpful man. “Yes, Daddy, he’s not the nice person everybody thinks he is. You can ask Poky, she knows.” “I do believe you, Becky,” he said, “I know you wouldn’t make up things like that. This just puts a whole new slant on things.” Willy, who had turned on the television and was watching cartoons, added, “I saw Maska biting him and chasing him, Mr. Crow. If he didn’t stop when he did, Maska woulda’ killed old Ernie. If I was there sooner, I woulda’ hit him on the head with a brick!” “We don’t have any bricks, Willy,” Becky giggled. “Besides I’m happy it was Maska that defended me. That’s what a good guard dog is supposed to do.”

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“Whoa, whoa, why was Ernie hitting you in the first place, Becky? I’m not sure that I get the picture.” “I’m not sure why, Dad. He said he came here to talk to you and Mom, but I don’t think he really wanted to. I think it was just me – he wanted to be alone with me, like he was trying to be my boy friend by the way he was acting.” A shadow of unease and anger passed over Vern and he felt the cold fingers of fear in his gut. “Oh, Sweetie, I’m really, really sorry it happened,” Vern said amid unashamed tears of his own. I’m sorry that I was late getting home. I promise you, I will always be here for you.” He lowered his head into his hands and wept. “You deserve better… a lot better.” “I’m okay, Dad. My head just hurts a little but I took some aspirin. Maska’s okay too. He got kind of bloody, so I gave him a bath.” At the thought of little Maska coming down on Ernie, Vern had to smile. “Tell me again what happened,” he said. Vern and Becky sat on the couch and Willy was sitting on the floor. They listened while Becky told them of the afternoon’s events.

Chapter 45 Vern had two phone calls to make; one to his wife, and the other to the Tribal Police. By the time Becky had told him every detail; the episodes on the school bus when Ernie Goodman made her sit beside him, and the innuendos and threats he had made, Vern was livid with anger. He wanted to go hunting for the worthless idiot right then. Vern had never killed a man, in fact, he had never even pointed a gun at anybody, but in those moments when he heard what Ernie had done and said, he wanted to find him

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and blow him full of holes. Fortunately, he was able to hold back his rage and behave calmly for Becky’s sake. Maska, seeming to know that Becky’s dad needed reassuring, got up from where he lay beside Becky and gave Vern’s chin another licking. “Maska, you’re really something, do you know that? You’re really something,” he said to the doting pup. With one more session of tight hugs and vows to protect her, he picked up the phone and made the calls. When Tammy heard what had happened, she requested the rest of the day off and hurried home. When she got there, Sergeant Elliot Hess pulled up behind her in a white security SUV. They parked their cars in the front of the house and went in together.

Chapter 46 Ernie was scared. The sun had already dropped out of sight; soon, darkness would fall. Ernie liked it that way – the darker the better. Men love darkness, rather than light, because their deeds are evil. The prison chaplain must have said that a hundred times in his weekly visits. That was okay, because his visits served a very good purpose. Ernie had been “born again” six or eight times while in prison. He needed every advantage whenever he had to stand before the parole board. To have the clergyman there beside him to speak on his behalf made a decisive difference. His being successfully rehabilitated, as well as being a model prisoner, was enough to convince the panel of his changed life. Why he only remembered that one verse, he was not sure, but it was probably because he felt more alive in the dark of night than at any other time.

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Morn came, and went and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light If Ernie prayed any prayer at all, though unlikely that he would, it would be along the lines of Lord Byron’s Darkness. His however, would be a selfish prayer for unending darkness. But now, a place to hide! Hiding though, had to come later. A close look of his face in the rear view mirror caused him to gasp in anguish – anguish because of the gravity of the wounds, and the fear of being arrested. It was apparent that his plans had deteriorated, and were temporarily out of control. His present condition was sure to draw attention to him. For now, he had to stop the bleeding and treat the wounds. He dreaded facing his mother, but there was no other way. He had to get home as fast as he could. Careful not to attract any attention, he carefully stayed within the speed limits. At the Hopland junction he turned right and eased through the little town, looking straight ahead on Highway 101 with only one immediate intention; to get home. Becky and I could have been great friends. More than just friends, we could have become Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Goodman. I would have shown her the world, after Mother dies, of course, and that will happen whenever I decide it will. The life insurance policy (yes, I admit that in some ways I am a clever devil) will take care of all of the expenses. Europe, South America or Asia – wherever she wanted to go, I would have taken her. But

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unfortunately Becky is just like all of the others. They just never seem to understand my true intentions. One day, yes one day… I will meet the right girl; a girl who would truly understand what a loving and generous man I can be. He tried to feel his face with his right hand, but all he felt were wounds touching wounds and perforated, slashed flesh tacky with blood. The pain was becoming more intense with every mile. That stupid little witch, she’s going to pay for this! She’s going to suffer like I’m suffering right now! A plan. I have to have a plan. His mind sped and spun, it raced and waned and went. Any meaningful plans that he otherwise might have formed were impossible. Unless he quickly dressed his wounds and left town, he would be in jail before morning, and that would not do. He was simply too young and too significant to sit in prison for ten or twenty wasteful years.

Chapter 47 The section of the highway reduced to just two lanes again. Up ahead and traveling south, a vehicle with its lights on bright was passing cars at a high speed. It met and passed him, swerving from side to side, and almost running him off the road. As it passed, he caught a quick glimpse of an old Ford station wagon, rising and dipping like a ship on the ocean and appeared to be traveling at least ninety miles an hour. Ernie glanced down at his own speedometer and let his foot off the accelerator, slowing back down to 55. A few more minutes and he would be home. As he approached the south side of Burke hill, he signaled and turned to the passing lane, increasing his speed back up to a steady 65. As he crested the hill, the lights of Ukiah came into view,

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twinkling like ten thousand diamonds in the dark valley below. From the top of the hill, the gleaming vista resembled a prominent city rather than the little town that it was. He turned off at the North State Street exit and doubled back into town. A right turn near the gas station and a few more turns took him to his mother’s driveway. Once again, he remembered that he had meant to install an automatic door opener for the garage. Putting his truck into park, he opened the truck door and with some effort, stepped onto the cement driveway. He left the pickup door open and unlocked the garage door. Lifting the door was another problem. His right hand did not want to function. When he grasped the handle, pain shot up his arm causing him to cry out. Taking a single step back, he looked blankly at the wide door. Weak and in pain, he forced himself to think. He switched to his left hand, which had less damage, and with some effort, raised the door. He climbed back into the pickup; he drove it inside the garage and closed the garage door. He entered the house and went into the front room. Irene Goodman, still in her bathrobe, was asleep on the sofa. A liquor bottle and an empty glass sat on the table beside her. That was a good sign to Ernie. Luck was finally on his side. Without disturbing her, he went into the hall bathroom and turned on the light. He shed his blood stained, torn clothes and stepped into the shower. The water stung his face and arms. Gingerly, he washed off the sticky blood, enduring the pain, and let the shower of warm water rinse him clean. The medicine cabinet contained enough antiseptics and bandages to get him by temporarily. If he hurried, he could pick up more medical supplies on his way out of

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town. He would need food as well – enough to last at least a couple of weeks while his wounds healed. From the pantry, he took a box of trash bags and a boxful of canned goods and boxed items. From a rack of oils and spices he took a large bottle of olive oil, all of which he placed in the cardboard box. He set the box in the garage and went back into the house. Irene was still sleeping in the same position she had been in when he first came home. In his mother’s bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet and sorted through the bottles and containers, finding an assortment of pain medication, cold remedies and cough syrups. There were Band-Aids and more bandages, which he took to his room. It took him over half an hour to tend to his wounds, and when he finished, he looked more like a mummy than a man. With the bandages in place, it was easier to get dressed than it had been to take off his soiled and shredded clothes. He took a suitcase and a duffle bag from his closet and filled them with clothing. Linens and towels he stuffed into the duffle bag. Packing the items quickly, he went room-to-room, choosing needful things. Returning to the pantry and bathrooms, in case he missed anything, he found the toiletries he needed. Finally satisfied, he carried them to the garage and secured them in his pickup. In the house again, he tiptoed through the living room and paused to look at his mother once more. She always looked old when she was asleep. The gray roots of her mousy hair and pale, wrinkled face drooling on the sofa pillow, made her look more like a worn out hooker than someone’s mother. But that was, after all, pretty much true. He

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picked up an ornate pillow off the couch and held it above her face. Only a few short minutes, and then that’s all she wrote…enfin termine.

Chapter 48 He pushed the pillow down hard, and kept his weight on it. She awoke and thrashed upon the sofa. To Ernie, her seizures were exciting to behold. He had waited so long; he had to give himself credit for that. It’s not everyone that can deny himself pleasure year after year, knowing that some day it would come. That however, is part of the pleasure – the long anticipation of something greatly desired. You’ll have to sleep alone in the house tonight, Mommy dearest. Newly exhilarated, he hurried out of the room and down the short hallway to the back door. Quietly closing the door behind him, he backed the truck out of the garage. In less than a minute, he closed the garage door and climbed back into the pickup. Out on the dark street, he scanned the area for anyone who may be watching. It was late and the street was dark aside from a few porch lights down the block. Assured, he shifted the truck into drive and eased on down the street. He waited until he was two blocks away from the house before he switched on the headlights and drove off and into the night.

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