Bad Land (8 page)

Chapter 16

Marshall’s head pounded harder. He wasn’t sure if it was from the knock he had taken or the truth his mind was trying to process and accept. 

“Whether the Native Americans were the first to find it or someone else is still unknown but there is a stone located deep within the earth in Wakan Canyon. A stone the Native American’s would make living sacrifices on and in turn, through the blood of their victims, they were granted immortality. The two founding families found it when they settled the area and now the Lloyd family controls the power.”

Marshall pushed around the word
Immortality
in his mind. It sounded so foreign, an idea that had only existed in comic books or stories. Could there really be such a thing? If this was all happening, then Jonah’s fairy tale-like recounting of his childhood would make sense. It fit in perfectly.

“If the Lloyd family does have this weapon and they have killed your entire family, why have they left you alive?”

Diane leaned back in her chair. She licked her lips, searching for the right words. “They know I’m a descendant of the Whitmers who founded the county, but I was raised by my grandparents on the other side of my family, who were not Whitmers. I was raised on the east coast. They have no idea I know the truth about them or the land. Besides, even if they did know, I can’t do anything by myself. Who would believe me? Who would I tell?”

Marshall could see her point. Even as a respected leader in the community and owner of the
Hermes
, a story like this would be thrown out of court in a second and she would be labeled a lunatic.

“So what now?” Marshall asked. “You two run around after work in the middle of the night and—and what? Try and find the Lloyd family or their associates and destroy them?”

“I wish it were as simple as that,” Diane said. “But before we go any further into exactly what Ann and I have been doing, I need to know that you are with us.”

Thus far, Diane had been firm in her tone, but now he sensed an extra edge in her voice. One he had only previously heard when she was firing or reprimanding an employee. “And what if I say no? What if I say you’re crazy and I want no part of any of this?”

The trio sat quiet. Diane held Marshall’s gaze and Ann fidgeted in her seat. “Well, then,” Diane started. “You would be free to go. We won’t stop you but just ask that you would keep our secret.”

“Really? You’re going to let me go? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Marshall had his answer to what really happened to Barbara Summers. If he believed Diane and Jonah, the pieces fit together. The question wasn’t who anymore, now it was what. What did he expect to do? If Diane was right, then there was no going to the police. Who would he tell? Lieutenant Lloyd? That was a joke. No, there was nothing for him to do. He was a reporter. He had found a twisted, weird version of the truth and he had to think over what course of action he was going to take, but jumping in the middle headfirst wasn’t his style.

“Well, then,” Marshall rose to his feet and gave a forced smile to the two women. “This has been a very weird night for me, and if your invitation to go is still on the table, I think I’ll take the offer.”

Marshall turned and made it a few steps toward the front of the warehouse before Ann’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “You never asked me how I got caught up in all of this.”

Marshall almost stopped but decided to keep walking. He had had enough.

“We’re not so different,” she said. “I lost a younger brother to them. Just like you lost your sister.”

Now Marshall stopped. Anger was the first emotion that made itself available and it seized Marshall with the pain of his sister’s memory. He wheeled around with a scowl on his face. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Ann stood, arms folded across her chest. “They took my brother just like they took your sister. You can’t walk away from this. I know you can’t, because I couldn’t, either. When he was killed and I found that things were being swept underneath the rug, I took it upon myself to find the truth. I searched and studied everything I could get my hands on.

“I trained my body so that one day when I found the men responsible, I would be ready and able to take my vengeance. Working at the
Hermes
was a perfect cover for me and gave me access to equipment and the latest local news. That’s where I discovered that Diane and I were working toward a common goal. We are all working toward a common goal, Marshall. All of us have lost loved ones, you included.”

Marshall took a few angry steps toward Ann, unsure of what he was going to do, but driven by rage. “You leave her out of this and stay out of my business. You know nothing about what happened to her.”

“Oh really? I know more than you think. I work for a newspaper in the IT department, remember? I know your sister died from a supposed hit and run when she was fifteen and that you never talk about her. That means you’re still not over it, and I’d throw down money that you’d kill to find out the truth and get your hands on those responsible for her death.”

Marshall gritted his teeth. Diane sat stoic, content to let Ann do the talking. Marshall’s hands clenched into fists. The memories of his sister and her death flooded his mind as he accepted the fact that his sister could have been killed just like Barbara and her body dumped on the road. Her wrists and ankles could have been cut and it was possible the coroner had covered the truth just like Barbara Summers.

Marshall was practically shaking as feelings he had worked hard to suppress for so long erupted on the surface and showed on his face.

“I know it’s not easy to hear, but they did it to my little brother, too.” Ann took a few steps toward Marshall. “We can find these guys together and make them pay for what they have done to our families. All of our families. Not to mention the countless others over the years.”

Marshall weighed the idea that his sister’s death could be involved in this somehow and the fact was he would never know if he didn’t try and find out. He raised his head and slowly nodded. “Okay, I’ll stick around. But just until I find out if this has anything to do with my sister’s death.”

Ann gave him a small smile. “Fair enough.”

Marshall decided to stay standing as he laced his fingers behind his head and stretched. He thought about telling them about Jonah but decided against the thought. Jonah was an old man who had a story to tell but he couldn’t be of any help to them, especially if things got dangerous. Plus Jonah wasn’t the most social person. Marshall asked, “So what now?”

Diane looked at both Ann and Marshall in turn. “We know who and we know how, but the two things we are missing is where the altar is and how many people in the county are involved with the Lloyd family.”

“We need to find out where the stone is hidden in Wakan Canyon and also how many people are loyal to their cause. They have eyes everywhere, and if we are going to kill—”

“Wow, wow, wow,” Marshall put up his hands. “Nobody said anything about killing people.”

Ann looked at him like he was an alien. “They killed our families, Marshall. There’s no going to the authorities because they own them all. It’s up to us. If not us, then who?”

Marshall let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I guess you have a point.” He still didn’t like the idea of taking the law into his own hands, but what option did he have? “One more question before we break for the night. Officer Lloyd, the Lieutenant in the precinct is he…?”

Diane nodded. “Yes, he is. I doubt he’s the head of the family, but he is definitely involved.”

Marshall bit his lower lip and thought of the implications having an officer as an enemy could provide.

“So,” Diane said, “I’ll keep on searching for information on how far the Lloyd family grasp reaches and you two find and locate the stone. In the meantime, let’s keep our work lives at work and what we do here separate.”

“You mean Ann will act like a nerdy tech girl at the office and the both of us will still only think of you as our strict boss, and we’ll try to avoid you whenever we can?” Marshall asked a bit sarcastically.

“Exactly,” Diane said.

Chapter 17

Marshall ran through the motions of grocery shopping, but in all honesty, he didn’t even really pay attention to what he threw in his cart. His mind was a million miles away, running away from cult members and chasing the memory of his little sister. At the register, he realized what he had bought. All his favorite foods were present and accounted for: TV dinners, chips, soda, bread, Pop-Tarts, Lunchables, mac and cheese, peanut butter and jelly—all the basic food groups.

“Oh, I’ll be right back,” he said to the middle-aged heavy-set woman scanning his items. Marshall ran to the last aisle in the store and grabbed the largest bottle of whiskey he could find. Lately, he hadn’t been much of a drinker, but with everything going on in his life, with memories of his sister resurfacing, he thought now was a good time to pick up the near-forgotten habit.

It was already late as he pulled up to his apartment complex. He gathered his groceries in both arms and started walking to his unit. He stopped dead in his tracks as he rounded a corner and saw a large shadow peering through his front window. The shadow wore a dark overcoat and hat. It stood motionless, looking into his apartment.

Marshall controlled the urge to run or shout and slowly took a few steps back around the corner. The only thing he had going in his favor was the element of surprise and he wasn’t going to ruin that. Quietly, he placed the bags of groceries down, and reached for his cell phone. He hesitated as his fingers wrapped around the phone’s familiar shape in his pocket. Marshall had to make sure he wasn’t seeing things before he called the police and risked Officer Lloyd or another dirty cop getting the call. Marshall took a deep breath and peeked around the corner for confirmation. But there was nothing there. The figure had disappeared in the few seconds it had taken Marshall to gather himself.

Fear tightened inside his chest as he looked behind him, terrified. There was no one around. His grip on his phone loosened. He picked up his grocery bags and took a few cautious steps forward. Had he imagined seeing the dark shadowy form? Was he so paranoid his mind was making him see things?

Marshall slowly walked to his apartment, head turning in every direction looking for anything out of place. There was nothing as he put his key in the door and walked inside flipping on the lights. George ran to him, tail wagging and sniffing the air.

Marshall put away the groceries, popped a frozen pizza in the microwave, and fed George. As the roommates ate together Marshall shook his head and looked at his dog. “What do you think about all of this? An immortal family, human sacrifices, creepers looking in our window, and there’s a really hot girl working on my car right now.”

George cocked his head to the side, making his floppy ears wobble. He licked his chops and went back to eating.

“Yeah, me too,” Marshall said. Finishing his dinner, he made a check of the house to make sure all the windows were tightly locked and the door bolted firmly. It was late already, and Marshall said a silent prayer that his dreams would be free from any faceless figures or shadowy stalkers.

His luck held, and before he knew it he was woken from his sleep by the alarm. No, that wasn’t the alarm—it was George. George was barking bloody murder. Marshall squinted through tired eyes at his alarm clock, it was 3 AM. Panic started to set deep within him. George was a great dog and only barked if there was a reason.

Marshall jumped out of his bed only wearing his briefs and a pair of shorts. He searched his room for anything he could use as a weapon. He didn’t own any guns.
Why don’t I own any guns?
Marshall mentally put guns on his future “to buy” list.

George continued to bark and growl somewhere in the dark. Marshall slowly opened his door and looked into the hall. His eyes were adjusting to the dark and all sleep was gone. Fear had taken its place and Marshall began giving himself an internal pep talk as his heart picked up speed.
Come on, man, there’s nothing there. Nothing is inside—you would have heard something break. You and George can handle whatever it is.

But the thought of an immortal being stalking him entered his mind. He was a goner for sure if there was something waiting for him in the dark that possessed an immortal soul.

Barefoot step by barefoot step he made his way down the short hall to the family room and kitchen. George heard him coming and rushed to meet him in the dark. George’s hair was bristled and he had a wild look in his eyes. A look that Marshall had never seen.

Marshall followed his roommate and the two made their way to the front door. The blinds on the window next to the door were drawn but the light from the street shown faintly through between windowsill and blind. Marshall walked quietly to the front room and crouched down to pet George.

George’s hair was still on end but he had traded his barks for low growls as he stared and sniffed at the closed door. Marshall squinted in the dark and tried to look through the small space between windowsill and blinds. He couldn’t make out much. A blur, a dim light in the distance, that was all. He moved to the peephole and braced himself for what he may or may not see. Marshall flipped on the outside light, hoping that would help scare off whatever was there.

Breath held, he looked out the small circular peephole. There was blackness on the other end. No scene of the street or light that should be there. There was just darkness, like something was blocking the peephole. While Marshall was still processing what this could mean, the doorknob rattled.

Marshall jumped back and looked around his scantly clad room for something, anything to use as a weapon. A cold sweat covered his body as George transitioned into bloodthirsty barks and howls. The door rattled once more then stopped completely. Marshall ran to the kitchen and reached for the phone. But what would he say? That there may or may not be something outside his door? That he was pretty sure there was an immortal being on the other side of his threshold?

Marshall’s dark eyes skipped over the phone and landed on the large bottle of whisky he had bought from the grocery store. Not giving a second thought to his present course of action, he tore off the plastic covering the top of the bottle, unscrewed the lid, and took a long, painful draught of liquid courage. Marshall grimaced as he re-screwed the bottle and held it like a club in his hand.

The liquid burned like fire in his throat. He fought back the after taste and resumed his position on the front line next to his barking roommate.

“I have a two hundred pound Rottweiler in here and he’s already killed—he’s already killed two people!”

George’s barking and growls subsided. The doorknob wasn’t moving and Marshall steeled himself. Stepping forward, he forced himself to look through the peephole one more time. Heart racing, he peered out.

There was the street, the light. The scene that should have been there when he looked out the first time. Then a figure moved into sight. It was coming from a few yards away to his left. It was wrapped in some kind of thick coat and marched toward him with long strides. Marshall’s heart was about to burst out of his chest until he saw who it was.

Just a few steps from his small porch he recognized the large figure as his landlord, Mrs. Helena. She rapped on his door, peering through the peephole on her own end like she was going to see something.

Marshall opened the door and smiled at his neighbor. “Oh, hello. You’re probably here about the noise. I’m so sorry.”

She scowled at him and George both, smudged makeup only highlighting her angry demeanor. “Marshall, the deal was you can keep the dog if he was quiet.”

“Oh yes, he is. I mean he’s usually good, but…“

Mrs. Helen was eyeing him suspiciously. He was still bare chested and holding the bottle of whisky like a weapon. Marshall caught her eye. “I, it was me. I start acting a little out of control when I drink. I—I have a problem.”

Mrs. Helena put her hands on her hips and shook her head. Her long acrylic nails reminded Marshall of claws. “I knew it. You need help. It’s three o’clock in the morning, for goodness sake, and you’re up drinking?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s sad, really.”

“Please tell me you are going to call someone or check into rehab.”

“Yes, yes, I will. I promise, and again, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Helena’s scowl softened as she backed away from the door. “Okay, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

Marshall closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked and slowly walked to his room. There had been something there, he knew that much. Things were starting to get very dangerous, and the faster he was able to get to the bottom of this, the better. Marshall went back to bed, still holding the bottle of whisky.

His actual alarm woke him up after hours of tossing and turning. The night had been a disaster and Marshall ran through his morning routine of showering and shaving like a zombie. Before he left the house, he stepped outside and examined his front porch. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but there might be something there. Maybe a footprint, a snagged article of clothing on a bush, but there was no sign of anything that may or may not have been on his porch the night before.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and a doughnut on his way to work. Still driving his borrowed car, he pulled into the
Hermes
’ lot and waited for the elevator in the lobby.

“Someone looks like they’ve had a rough night.”

Marshall turned around and saw Ann standing right behind him. She had snuck up on him without making the slightest noise despite her high-heeled feet. She was back to the Ann he was used to seeing. She wore a long skirt, a peach colored top and a white sweater. Her glasses framed her blue eyes and her long blond hair was set in a ponytail.

Marshall knew better than to underestimate her now. He casually looked from side to side to make sure no one was in earshot. “I had a visit from one of our friends. At least I think I did. Could have used your assassin skills.”

Ann’s eyes widened, filling her glasses as Marshall told her the events of last night. The two rode the elevator up to the top floor.

“You have to be careful now more than ever. I don’t know how they know you’re involved in this, but they do.”

Marshall shrugged his shoulders as they reached the top floor and walked to his office. “If the family is as well connected as you and Diane say they are, it’s not out of the question to think they have people watching us.” Even as Marshall said the words he felt a chill run up his back. “I need a drink.”

“It’s seven in the morning, and since when are you a drinker?”

“Since I’ve been hunted by immortals and forced to think about my dead sister.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that would do it. So I’m just going to unawkwardly change the subject now from your alcohol problem. Let’s game plan. Diane is working on locating them and their known associates. We need to find the stone they use to sacrifice. We should narrow down places in the canyon to search and look more into legends and the history of the area.”

The two had reached Marshall’s office. There were only a few people straggling in looking hypnotized as they gulped their coffee or headed to the company kitchen in search of caffeine. Marshall looked Ann up and down again. She was completely normal and even appeared shy. She had made the perfect cover for herself. “I’ll see what I can find on any description or mention of this stone and/or ritual.”

“Perfect, I’ll narrow our search of the area. Meet at the warehouse at nine?”

“Yeah, okay. We can exchange notes.”

Ann winked at him and walked away to her own desk as Marshall entered his home away from home and sat at the computer again. Today’s task should be easy. He needed to find any urban legends, myths, or stories about immortality and the mention of a stone or a ritual. If the internet was good for anything, it was content. Marshall found pages and pages of information on immortality and sacred stone altars.

Every picture he came across brought images of his sister to his mind. Every picture with a body strewn across a sacrificial altar had his sister’s face. Would he ever know the truth? Was he on some crazy chase that had nothing to do with his sister at all? Was there any way to know for sure if his sister had fallen victim to this secret society? With another wish for alcohol to dull his senses and the feelings he was being forced to deal with, he focused on the articles he had found on the internet.

Marshall narrowed in on the constants that the articles had to offer. Almost all agreed that if sacrificial altars existed, they would have to be large and not easily moveable, if they could be moved at all. Marshall spent all morning researching the topic until he had compiled what he thought was an accurate description of the stone altar they were looking to destroy.

The altar would have to be large enough for a body to lie on top. It would be heavy, so probably not moveable. It would be dark and bloodstained, and if Jonah’s story was correct, it would be underground somewhere in the canyon.

Marshall’s stomach soon reminded him of his scant breakfast and he glanced at the time on his computer. It was near eleven, close enough for Marshall to justify an early lunch and a drink. Even better, he could justify an early lunch by going to check on his car.