Sunshaker's War (33 page)

Chapter XVII: Diving In

(east of Atlanta, Georgia—Monday, June 16—dawn)

David was becoming increasingly distrustful of the sky. It was pinkening far too rapidly, and traffic was picking up much faster than he liked as he urged the Mustang along the last scrap of rural four-lane east of Snellville. Once there, they'd be slowed considerably, Calvin had warned, so it was better to make tracks now. They were traversing not quite a suburb, more a series of overgrown strip-towns, where half the workforce of Atlanta bedroomed in the burgeoning counties. David sighed, yawned, and tried to steel himself for the travail ahead.

Far too quickly, anticipation became reality, and he found his progress slowed to a nerve-wracking crawl. He eyed the patchwork of shopping centers, gas stations and fast-food joints wearily, fearing the day his own home county might take on that same tawdry veneer. A traffic light slowed him more, and his stomach growled as he found himself gazing wistfully at the I-Hop up ahead.

“Okay, Fargo,” he prompted a couple of miles further on. “We're nearly there. Any idea where we do this deal?”

“Yeah,” Calvin replied cryptically. “But we've gotta get closer, first.”

David grunted and moved on with the traffic, giving a finger to the guy in the new red Camaro that honked at him from behind, then whooshed around him. The next several miles were more of the same, and then he crested a hill and caught first sight of their goal: the largest chunk of exposed granite in the world, according to the park brochures: Stone Mountain. Here, now, it resembled a
beached whale, dark in the morning half-light except for a ruddiness to the east and the blink of red light from the broadcast tower that marked its summit. He could not see the Confederate Memorial that was carved into its north side because of a stand of scraggly pines, but had seen it on plenty of other occasions, notably the Scottish Festival that was held there every October.

Past a clutter of fast-food places the road gained a lane as it became the Stone Mountain Freeway. The mountain was a real landmark now, dominating most of the view to David's left. Through a break in the roadside trees he caught a fleeting glimpse of the huge carving he remembered: Generals Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, and Confederate President Jefferson Davis preserved for all eternity in granite. David wondered what they would have thought about their carved visages standing sentinel to a sliver of Faerie.

“Right lane,” Calvin noted.

“Got it.” David started to swerve that way, but was cut off by a low-flying Nissan Maxima.

“Now!”
Calvin supplied obligingly, gaze fixed over his shoulder.

A minute later they exited onto Mountain Industrial Boulevard, and a handful of turns after that, were enmired in the sprawl of subdivisions nearby. David wondered about that, doubting they'd ever find a place private enough for magic this close to Atlanta on the one hand, yet with easy access to the park on the other. Nevertheless, he followed Calvin's directions and turned into a narrow street marked by a DEAD END sign. Two blocks further, he turned left into the driveway of an unkempt-looking ranch house. No lights burned, and the driveway was empty except for a patchwork of oil stains, none of them particularly fresh. The lawn could also have stood a good mowing.

“Home,” Calvin stated simply. “'Cept that Dad's probably not here—'least I hope he's not. Last I heard he was workin' on one of John Portman's new projects 'round on the other side, which means he's probably already taken off. No car here, anyway.”

“Good enough,” David muttered offhand. “But why here?”

“Show you in a minute,” Calvin replied easily. “Let's get unloaded first.”

Five minutes later they were ready, each hoisting a knapsack onto his or her back. Probably too much stuff, David thought, but then he had no sure way of knowing where they'd be going or when, so they'd crammed them full of food, cooking utensils, weaponry, bed rolls, and spare clothing—Sandy was just enough larger than Liz that her loaner togs merely looked stylish and Calvin had supplied David and Alec, both of whom were slimmer than he, though Alec was an inch or so taller.

David eyed the Mustang uncertainly. “Okay to park it here?”

Calvin shrugged. “We shouldn't be here long if we're lucky, and if we're not…well, we'll worry about that when it happens. I reckon I oughta leave a note, though, just in case, so Dad won't have your wheels towed.”

“You don't get along, do you?” David inquired hesitantly.

Another shrug, then a long, awkward pause while Calvin contrived a quick message and stuck it under the wiper. “No great shakes,” he replied finally. “He denied his heritage, which I don't approve of, but was his right. But then he tried to deny me mine, and that
wasn't
his right. We haven't spoken since.”

“Whew!” David hadn't realized what a personal risk Calvin was taking here.
Daniel in the Lion's Den,
he wondered,
or The Prodigal Son?

“This way.” Calvin motioned them toward a locked gate in the hurricane fencing at the side. A second later, he had picked the lock and let them through. A brace of beagles raced up to him, leaping and hopping and raising their earnest brown-and-white muzzles to be cupped with two hands and fondled.

“Rabbit hounds,” Calvin offered by way of explanation. “One thing Dad's
not
abandoned.”

David squatted, obligingly petted a pup, and followed Calvin across the enclosed backyard, noting as they jogged along that the surrounding yards were similarly blockaded. The back of the lot fronted on trees, though:
lots
of trees, mostly oaks and maples.

“I'm afraid we'll have to climb over,” Calvin apologized.

“No problem,” David acknowledged, eyeing the fence, which was about as tall as he was. One smooth leap and he'd reached the metal pipe at the top; a twist of legs and torso, and he was over. Calvin did likewise, Liz and Alec followed more slowly. One of the numerous pockets that decorated Alec's jungle camos caught on the fence and ripped, sending a shower of coins to the leaves on the other side. He scooped them up quickly and followed his friends.

Green enfolded them, and cool dimness, and suddenly they might have been miles from any city. Oaks grew close around, so full of thick undergrowth of dogwoods and rhododendron that it made David think of home. They were on a trail of sorts, and simply kept Calvin in sight, since he obviously had some destination in mind.

An instant later David knew they had reached it: a low, grassy knoll shielded by an arc of trees on one side and by a lower pile of dense underbrush on the other. A closer examination showed rooftops below. Evidently this was territory that had been abandoned and forgotten when the subdivision had been built: a scrap of wild trapped between backyards; the barrier below made of the remnants of these same woods simply bulldozered down and left to rot. Only they hadn't exactly rotted. Bushes had claimed them, and then had come the kudzu. Now it was an island-kingdom of green in the heart of Atlanta's suburbs, giving an uninterrupted panorama of Stone Mountain to the left and unexpectedly close, and to the right of the not-so-distant sprawl of Atlanta. He could see the skyline clearly, a surprising number of lights still on (or left on) at the early hour, and a steady circulation of moving lights within it, as the South's largest city came slowly awake.

“This do?” Calvin inquired, grinning with so much self-satisfaction it was almost infectious. “I found it when I was a kid. Spent a good five years' worth of afternoons here just daydreamin'. Lost my virginity right over there, saw a UFO one time.”

“Neat,” David exclaimed, thinking of Lookout Rock back home, his Place of Power.

“It borders the park on the left,” Calvin pointed out. “And there're backyard fences 'round most of it. I doubt anybody'll ever find it.”

“They will, though,” Alec sighed wistfully. “Nothing ever stays the same.”

“But maybe not in my lifetime,” Calvin replied. “That's all I care about—all I
can
care about.” He motioned them to a spot on the ground where a slab of mossy granite usurped the weeds and grasses.

“Best we grab a snack and get to,” David suggested, slinging down his pack. He reached inside and dragged out an assortment of candy bars they'd bought earlier that morning at an all-night convenience store in Winder. He claimed a Butterfinger, handed Liz a Hershey's and Alec the Pay Day he always chose. Calvin did not take one (he was evidently on some kind of fast), but was already fumbling around in his pack. A moment later he pulled out a plastic bag.

“Earth of Galunlati,” he volunteered. “I think it might help a little.”

David watched as Calvin crossed to a small patch of bare ground a little to the right of the stone, opened the bag, and began to trickle the sand between his fingers in a pattern David soon recognized as the cross-in-circle of a Power Wheel. Calvin stared at it an instant longer, then nodded, and resealed the bag. “Not as round as I'd like, but it'll have to do.” He glanced up at his companions. “Alec, my man, looks like you're gonna have to be a part of this, since you're the Lord of the Ulunsuti. So you better come with me and Dave and help us get ready.” He paused, staring at Liz whose eyes had narrowed with either hurt or resentment. “Sorry, Liz, but this is boy stuff. Partly 'cause of modesty—yours
and
ours—and partly 'cause the ritual says that's how it's gotta be. Don't worry, though; you'll have plenty to do, I promise. I don't know how long the gate'll be open, though—if I can even
get
it open. So we'd best be primed to move quickly. Dave, you comin'?”

David started at the summons, having almost dozed off, then nodded, snatched his backpack, and followed his buddies into the shadows of the woods.

They went only far enough down the trail to shield themselves from the clearing and, imitating Calvin's example, stripped. Once bare, Calvin poured water from his canteen into his hands and swabbed it across as much of the other two boys as the quantity permitted. “No time to go to water,” he explained. “Got this at the creek I bathed in last night, though it's mixed with a bit of water from Galunlati. Hope it'll be sufficient. From now on, just follow my lead as much as you can. I really shouldn't talk much, and I've got a bunch of chants to do, so just kinda go with the flow, okay?” He paused, looking at Alec, who was, in turn, looking very uncomfortable, and not just from being bare-assed naked. “Sorry, man, but the outfits are part of the ritual—just in case. I'll be dressed the same, and I'll do what I can for Liz, but since me and Dave are actually goin' through, we'll have to make allowances for that.”

“Huh?” Alec replied, confused.

“Basically, a lot of this is gonna have to be your baby, Alec, since I can't exactly stay here to supervise. Also, since it's your ulunsuti, you're gonna have to do the part of the ritual that involves it—which is most of it. Now, I need to shut up, and get the show rollin'. Like I said, just follow my example. I'll give you a quick run through once we're finished here.”

Alec grimaced, but nodded and folded his arms.

Calvin reached into his medicine bag and pulled out a lump of waxy red material somewhere between clay and crayon. With it he quickly sketched a series of designs on his forehead, cheeks, chest, arms, and thighs—mostly lightning bolts and stylized falcons. As he made the first stroke, he began to chant slowly:
“Sge! Ha-nagwa asti unega aksauntanu usinuli anetsa un-atsanuntselahi aktati adunniga
…”

The chant droned on as he marked Alec, then David with similar lightning bolt patterns, though he drew a caricature 'possum on David's chest and, after a moment's consideration, a horned serpent pierced by a staff on Alec's.

The rest went quickly: David resumed the cut-off jeans, white T-shirt, and sneakers Calvin had leant him before, while Calvin vested first himself, then Alec in makeshift loincloths (apparently he'd appropriated
two
of Sandy's woven scarves). A short while later he was ready. He paused, looking at David, eyes a-twinkle.

“Scared, Sullivan?”

“Shitless,” he admitted. “But I've done it before, and it's gotta be done.”

“Good man,” Calvin said. “We'll go through the gate together, but I'll need you to lay low during the ceremony. I wish I'd thought to bring gear for all three—shoot, all
four
of us, but I didn't. Anyway, you'll have to look after my mundane stuff while I open the gate. Once through, I'll change if I have to. This stuff”—he gestured down at the flimsy loincloth—“ain't exactly made for heavy duty action. I'd hate to fuck it up. 'Sides,” he added wryly, “Sandy made it.”

“You got it, man,” David assured him, and retrieved Calvin's pack as well as his own, then followed the would-be shamans back to the clearing.

Liz met them there, rising from where she'd been munching sandwiches. David took a swig of the Gatorade she offered him, and Calvin and Alec helped themselves to long draughts as well.