The Twelve Stones (10 page)

Alex painfully tried to turn on his side
and
move away from the animal. He was unarmed, and unable to move quickly.
In his condition, he
doubted he could
do much to
stop the wild animal from hurting him further, or worse,
finish him off.

The coyote moved closer to Alex, growling and barking in a low tone. Alex watched, his breathing labored as he struggled to stay conscious. He moved his arm painfully, trying to get away from the animal that
sniffed
Alex’s bloody pants.

As Alex shifted his weight, the stone his father had given him moments ago fell into contact with Alex’s body. At first, he didn’t notice the blue glow emanating from the black stone, but soon
,
the
light
spread out and
envelop
ed
his entire body.

The coyote
,
which had gotten too close
,
yelped and skittered away from the glowing man. Alex
cried out
and cough
ed
violently as his body began to repair the damage
from the fall
. He
trembled
with
pain as his bones knit back together, the skin stretching itself and repairing
its rips and bruises from
only moments before.

A
few seconds after the blue glow had subsided, Alex
stood up
on his own. Staring at the coyote that had nearly made him his meal, Alex shook his head and gave him a mock salute.

“Not tonight
,
pal.”

The coyote barked in response before turning and running back into the brush and away from Alex.

Rubbing his head, Alex wasn’t so much concerned with the whys or hows
of his miraculous healing
as he was
with
finding a way to escape the people
who
had just thrown him off a cliff and murdered his father.

Alex’s stomach fell at the memory of his father falling over the side of the cliff, but compartmentalized it as his training kicked in. There was no time to mourn
;
he had to find his father’s body and hope that he could do
to him
whatever
it was that
had
just healed his own injuries.

Keeping low and moving hurriedly through the dry and brittle scrub brush, Alex snuck around towards where he thought his father’s body might have landed. Unfortunately
,
as he drew closer, he saw that he was too late. Two workers in hard hats
,
directed by the large bald man in the inappropriately warm leather jacket
,
had already found his father’s body
,
and were loading it into the back of their Chevy Suburban.

Alex bit his knuckle and tried to keep from screaming at the thought of his father’s murderers having his dad’s body. But he was too late; it would be certain suicide to charge in there without a weapon of any kind.

Tears rolled down Alex’s face as he watched the men finish loading his father’s body into the Suburban. The truck started up
,
and as
it
bounced away on the uneven desert floor, Alex composed himself and began to think on how to escape. His
father had had the keys to the J
eep
,
and without
that
J
eep, food or water
, Alex didn’t stand much chance in the desert.

The only thing to do was to wait for the sun to completely set
,
so
that
Alex
w
ould
have the cover of darkness
. After that, he thought, he could
maybe hike out to the highway and flag down a passing vehicle.

He watched from a safe distance
, and
watched as
a veritable tent city
was
built
alongside the dark and imposing
m
esa. Powerful halogen lights lit up the side of the mountain as vast amounts of mining equipment and large drilling machines began to attach themselves to the side of the mountain. In only a few short hours
,
with heavy equipment and manpower, the area surrounding the
m
esa had become like something out of a conspiracy theorists’ wet dream.

Billions of stars twinkled above Alex as he approached the camp quietly
,
using every ounce of his training to escape detection.
He
ducked behind some thick manzanita brush as a Suburban roared down the road in front of him. The truck stopped
,
and two men
with
heavy-
duty work gloves
got out
and began unloading heavy fence poles from the rear and roof.

The first worker, a burly man whose belt buckle proclaimed him as Master of the Female Body
,
complete with
near
-
pornographic detail
,
grabbed the first of five poles set on the rooftop of the Chevy Suburban.

“
The holes were dug last week
,
from what the foreman tells me. Our job,” the burly Master said to his companion, “is to cement ‘em in at least four feet deep.”

“
Jesus,” the smaller man said as he struggled with the poles, “What do you think Kline’s protecting up there?”

The burly man shrugged, his fat face narrowing as his thoughts turned greedily to thick envelope of cash that the man who had hired him had given him earlier today at the bar where he spent most of his days. “Don’t matter to me
.
T
en
thousand dollars for a few day
s
'
work is more than enough to keep me from asking any questions.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at his companion, “Probably be a good idea if you didn’t ask any either.”

The smaller man nodded as their forms disappeared down the dark road
,
carrying the heavy fence poles. Alex snuck into the road and kept his body tight against the truck as he made his way to the driver’s side. Hoping the two men were as dumb as they looked, Alex said a small prayer and pushed the button to open up the driver’s side door.

To Alex’s immediate relief, the door popped open. Hoping against hope that his luck would continue, Alex used what little light he had to search for the keys. He was rewarded
with
the clinking of metal in the cup holder in the truck. It seemed that while the burly man might
indeed
be the
M
aster
of the
F
emale
Body
, his critical thinking skills needed work. Alex grasped the keys out of the cup holder and put them into the ignition.

The two men hadn’t walked far down the road, so when they heard their truck start up and the lights come on,
they
turned back to see who was stealing their Suburban
.

Alex threw the stolen vehicle into gear and pushed the accelerator to the floor, the car fishtailing slightly as it struggled to find traction on the loose desert soil. Great plumes of dirt flew out behind the Suburban as it beat a path out and away from the two construction workers.

The two men
,
dumbfounded at the turn of their luck
,
dropped the two poles they were carrying as they watched their ride take off into the desert night. The smaller man handed the radio he was carrying to his friend.

“
I’m gonna let you call this in.”

The burly man scowled as
he
grabbed the radio away from his smaller companion. He dialed a few numbers and clicked the side.

“
Mr. Tate, we
’ve uhh, got
a problem.”

Chapter Seven

Alex pushed the accelerator as fast as he dared on the dark and poorly maintained Joshua Tree dirt roads. He kept the lights off as he raced away from Kline and company in the stolen Suburban.

Alex had to find a main road and get on it. With every second Alex spent away from civilization, it was another second his father’s murderers had to catch up with him and finish the job they started.

Along with finding a road, Alex knew he had to find the police. Looking at the dashboard, he found the on-board navigation.
After he tapped a few keys
, the pleasant female voice came through the Suburban’s speakers.

“Where would you like to go today?”

“Police Station.” Alex called out.

“Searching.” The computer accessed the hard drive full of maps and directions. “Joshua Tree Sheriff's Station, computing directions now. Take next left hand turn.”

Going to the police was a risky proposition for Alex
,
considering the scary people who were out there looking for him, but Alex figured that there wasn't anyone in Joshua Tree
who
knew anyone looking for him. He’d talk to the sheriff, raise hell, and then disappear once he knew his father’s body was recovered by the authorities. The revenge could come later; he had plenty of resources set aside for just that sort of occasion.

Gritting his teeth, Alex urged the Suburban faster, the truck bouncing violently over the uneven surface of the dirt road. He hunkered down
,
his knuckles
turn
ing
whiter as he held tight onto the steering wheel, aiming for the paved highway road, hoping he would make it there before the men chasing him got to him first.

Chapter Eight

Kline sat in the hermetically sealed trailer that had been specially designed by his firm. The office had been specifically designed so that he could have it towed to any location on earth, either by a helicopter, or more conventionally
,
on the back of semi truck trailer. The truck hauling his trailer had rumbled to a stop only moments after Kline and company had landed. He had locked himself in the trailer
,
insisting that he not be troubled by anyone. Geoffrey Tate did not like disobeying his boss
’s orders
, but in situations such as these, there was little choice.

The billionaire was lost in concentration
,
and almost didn’t hear
Tate
cough politely
,
announcing his presence. Annoyed, Kline brushed some dirt off the plans in front of him and acknowledged Tate's second cough.

“What is it
,
Mr. Tate?” Kline asked, not bothering to lift his eyes from the papers on his desk.

“We may have a situation, sir.”

“Situation?” Kline deemed it appropriate now to raise his head and look his number two in the eyes. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Apparently
,
one of our Suburbans was stolen from two of our workers out in the desert where they were building the perimeter fence.”

“So? Probably some migrant workers passing through the area
,
and the two idiots didn’t lock up.” Kline shook his head impatiently, “
Thank them for their service, offer them our special ‘severance package’
and
then
lose them in the desert. Understood?”

“Sir, things may be worse than a stolen truck.”

“How so?” Kline’s voice became dangerous.

“The two men who were here when we landed?”

“Yes, what of them?” Kline asked, his voice growling, never a good sign.

“I’m afraid we only found one body.”

Geoffrey braced himself for the inevitable temper tantrum his boss was so adept at throwing. He didn’t have to wait long
,
as Kline rushed towards him faster than Geoffrey’s eyes could follow. Suddenly, the bald assistant found himself airborne
,
as Kline raised him over his head using only a fraction of his available strength.

“He got away?” Kline’s anger permeated the room. The psychosis in his eyes was clearly apparent. This was a kind of murderous rage one rarely sees in anything resembling a human being. “I threw the man off a cliff!”

Geoffrey attempted to wheeze out a response, but found himself unable
to
with his bosses' tight grip around his throat. Kline, disgusted with his second
,
in command dropped him to the ground and whisked
himself
away to his drawings as if nothing had happened. Grasping his neck, massaging it where the collar had cut into his skin, Geoffrey approached Kline’s side also as if nothing had happened. It was a trick he had learned over the years
. His boss's
anger could rise and subside within minutes, each time as unpredictable as the last.