Chapter Fourteen
We galloped across the flat playa, the horses weaving skillfully around creosote bushes and Spanish dagger. I saw that they were following dirt bike trails but I had no idea where they were going – I didn’t see anything in the three directions I could see over her shoulders.
“What’s your name?” I asked between thumps of my butt on the horse’s croup. I had to push myself away from the cantle so I didn’t squish my nuts.
The horses galloped for ten minutes and as I looked back, I realized that we had descended but it was so gradual that you didn’t notice until you looked backward. The Park Ranger’s truck was long gone and spread out below me in a sunken pit was a truck, horse trailer, campers and a small plane. If there was a runway, it wasn’t apparent to my eyes.
Neither of them stopped until he drew level with the plane; I saw that it was already running and the pilot behind the perplex windshield was another handsome dark-skinned Native American hanging out the passenger door.
“Come on, Rachel,” he called. “Redline, hurry.” The older man dismounted from his running horse to land on his feet. The horse continued on to the trailer. The girl pulled hers to a sliding stop and if I hadn’t grabbed hold of the saddle, I would have flown over backward. She pushed me off with an elbow and when I landed on my back, it knocked the air out of me. A cloud of dust lifted around me and the horses’ hooves. I choked. It was the younger man who reached down from the open doorway and dragged me to my feet.
“How,” he said and I got my breath back but she rushed past me into the plane and all three of them bundled me inside. Set me down and seat belted me before I had a chance to open my mouth. In seconds, we were bouncing along on a dirt trail scraped out on the bottom of the pit and literally bounced into the sky. The younger man slapped a hard plastic shell on my chest and I felt it humming.
All three of them proceeded to strap their own seatbelts and faced forward ignoring me. Pressure built up in my chest. What started as an annoying tingle became an itch, then a pain, and then – a crushing weight. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move even though I tried to reach out and attract their attention. Finally, I passed out.
*****
“Wow,” a soft female voice murmured near my left ear. “I’ve never seen anyone turn that shade of blue before.”
“Yes, well, the EMP shield is not supposed to interfere with brain or heart electrical impulses. It’s a good thing you saw him stop breathing and did CPR, Rachel. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“How old do you think he is, Uncle Pete?”
“Fourteen, maybe fifteen. His great-grandfather was a friend of your dad and I met him once. He was a Lakota, from a well-respected and revered line of Shamans.”
I stirred. My eyelids fluttered and my hands went to my sore chest. It felt as if my grandfather had rolled a boulder with him sitting on it onto my chest.
“Grandfather?” I asked and stifled a sob as I saw neither home nor grandfather. What I saw was an open room decorated in Southwest motif in a fancy house of hand-hewn timbers, a house of obvious wealth. Out of two sets of open French doors, I saw huge deck overlooking a mountain lake surrounded by tall pines and snow-capped peaks. The air smelled of pine and cedar and I heard the whistle of a hawk and the cry of a loon.
“How do you feel, Lake?” The older native asked and I saw he was Cheyenne or Arapahoe. He wore comfortable fresh-pressed jeans, starched Western shirt and soft Lucchese boots. The girl from the plane was with him and she wore jeans, T-shirt and jean jacket. Ladies Ropers and heirloom silver jewelry.
“Who are you people? What’s going on, what are you doing to me?” I demanded.
“Well, you certainly wake up in a bright cheery mood,” the girl pouted.
“Who are you?” I asked her directly. She was very pretty, and inch or so taller than I with glossy black hair, exotic black eyes and skin tone lighter than usual.
“My name is Rachel Vaughn Little Bear,” she said. “This is my uncle, Redline Pete Otseno, and my brother, George Little Bear."
“Okay. So how did you know I was in the Ranger’s pick-up? How did you know who I am?”
“Your great-grandfather is my friend, Lakan,” Redline answered. I swallowed.
“Was. Was your friend.”
“He still is, Lake. Just because he’s passed does not mean he stopped being that. Besides, he told me where to find you and how to help you. As for what’s happening – the shield over your chest contains an electromagnetic field that interrupts the signal embedded in your heart. We were flying to the Casino Tower where the Elders will discuss what to do with you. But you coded so we made a stop at my house.”
“What to do with me? I need to hide! Some crazy woman has sent goons after me! She says she’s my grandmother!”
“Dir. Hamilton,” Redline nodded. “She wants you and the head of one of her Black Ops wants you. They’ve been engaged in a tug-of-war over you for the last two years. A man called Chase just found out where she’s been hiding you. Dr. Cameron is pestering the NSA for access to you, also now they are aware of your…unique abilities.”
“My what?” I stared hard at him but he wasn’t intimidated.
“Oh, come on,” Rachel sneered. “You know the doctor from Harvard genetically modified your mother’s DNA before you were born. He made you a super baby.”
I snorted. “I’m just a regular kid. No super genius or superhero.”
“Then explain how you can enter the Spirit Realm and speak to your grandfather and mother,” she retorted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I started and she touched me. Instantly, I was back inside the Yellow Realm and the man who called himself Tungasila was sitting cross-legged on a big yellow chunk of quartz.
“Lakan, Boy Who Thinks Too Much,” he greeted me. “These people are your friends. They will hide you and Redline’s niece is pretty, too.” He grinned.
“Grandfather!” I said embarrassed, using the term out of respect not because I recognized him.
He stroked my head. “You’re on the cusp of becoming a warrior and a man, Lakan. Be happy, that’s all your mother and I want for you.” Abruptly, I was back in the plane surrounded by expectant faces. Rachel looked sleepy, yawned and leaned back against her seat cushion.
Her uncle explained, “it tires her to visit the Spirit Realm. Does it affect you that way?”
I shook my head. “I don’t remember going there before…today, yesterday. I literally woke up Friday, October 24, 2015. The last day I remember clearly was August 29, 2013, and I was with that man who says he was my great-grandfather. Yet I remember a woman saying she was my grandmother – Sarah Hamilton. I can’t remember my mother or father at all.” I shut my mouth with a snap as I realized I was babbling.
Redline patted my arm. “You’re safe now, Lakan. No one can take you off-reservation land without the permission of the Tribal Council and they have to find you first. As far as they know, your signal disappeared in the Devil’s Sinkhole in Tularosa, Alabama about 10 feet up in the air.”
The pilot called back, “landing in ten, fifteen minutes, Chief.”
I looked out the window and saw a small city below us, laid out in a grid shape with a modern skyscraper dominating the center. Other equally imposing multi-story buildings lay at its feet as if in worship. It vaguely resembled a restrained Las Vegas with the same desert scrubland surrounding it yet no Lake Mead or giant pipeline feeding it.
The airport runway was modern and large enough to take a DC-10 or 727 and there were several terminals for the main carriers. We had no wait time, the pilot was directed to set down on the runway and taxi to Hangar Twelve where our ride was waiting. The air traffic controller called the pilot by name and they chatted before we hit the tarmac.
I watched as we rolled over to a hanger set on the side. A black stretch limo was parked there with a waiting driver. He was Indian but his only concession to his chauffeur duties was that his hat was a baseball cap, not a Stetson. When he saw us, he reached inside the open limo window and put a Stetson on his head.
Redline said, “my other nephew. Darren White Deer. He drives for the casino.”
“Does he wear a suit then?” I asked.
“Nope. Guests expect Indians to dress in buckskin and eagle feathers. He wears jeans and a jean jacket. Sometimes, he braids his hair.”
I looked again and sure enough, he had long hair tied in a ponytail that disappeared down the collar of his jacket.
The plane stopped. Two men ran out from the hanger with wooden chocks connected by ropes and tossed them under the wheels. I heard noises outside the door and it popped open as everyone unhooked their seatbelts. Redline gently pushed the girl and she woke groggily, rubbing her eyes.
“Come on, Rachel,” he said. “Darren’s waiting.”
She was up and out before I could blink and I saw her throw herself into the driver’s arms planting a passionate kiss on his face. I frowned. Cousins were not allowed to intermarry in Indian culture, especially close cousins.
“Can you walk?” George Little Bear asked and I stood up. Wobbled and he held the shield up against my chest. I wondered about my back and whether the EMP shield covered both directions. Instantly my brain was processing the technology that was behind the shield, how to expand and improve on it. I held it on myself. “I’m okay. My feet went to sleep.”
I stepped forward and descended the four steps to the ground with Redline in front of me and George behind me. Rachel and Darren came forward. He spoke in Cheyenne and whatever he said pissed Redline off.
“Mind your business and your manners, Darren,” he said shortly. “Drive us to the Tower.”
“As you say, Uncle.” He turned on his heel and returned to the limo as Rachel flounced after him. We piled into the back seats and he did not hold the door for us. She sat in the front and faced forward.
The interior was plush and had a minibar. No alcohol but bottles of sparkling water, soft drinks and iced tea. George handed over a water without me asking and I drained it dry. I was also hungry and he gave me my choice of energy bars or fresh fruit. I took both and ate until I was full.
The limo pulled off and onto the main road, the suspension so smooth and quiet I barely felt us moving. The windows were blacked out but I could see the panorama of open country, sagebrush brush, piñon trees, cactus and cottonwoods in the draws. Although it looked flat, there were arroyos and dips that could hide a car. What I didn’t see were sources of water – no creeks, no rivers, and no small ponds. Occasionally, I saw a windmill turning lazily near a stock tank. No cattle although we did pass a five-strand barbed wire fence that trailed off into the distance.
One minute we were in the desert, the next we entered the neighborhoods surrounding a small city and streets merging into the downtown area.