Words failed Maddock as they drove away from the battlefield. What he had seen was burned in his mind. The power of the stone was real, and it just might have been their salvation.
They had wiped and disposed of all the rifles and pistols, tossing them into the lake. Bones wanted to save Carter's antique Colt, but Maddock put his foot down.
“Something that could be evidence at your murder trial doesn’t make for a good souvenir,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I know, but that was a sweet piece. He didn’t deserve it.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you covered our tracks nicely. I doubt anyone will find the bodies, and if they do…”
“Eaten by bears,” Bones said. “This stone is something else. You’ll have to try it sometime.”
“Sure. Next time we need to make it look like seven dead men were victims of animal attacks, I’ll use it.”
He had a feeling the names of the seven dead men would simply be added to the list of strange disappearances in Dark Entry. Maddock had seen and experienced some strange things in the time he and Bones had known one another, but what Bones had done with that stone was near the top of the list. The bears emerging silently from the trees and dragging away the bodies. The coyotes lapping up the blood. He shuddered at the memory. He supposed he would never grow fully accustomed to the idea that there were forces in this world that defied understanding.
When they were a quarter of a mile from the ranger station, he pulled the car off the shoulder of the road and cut the engine.
Bones grabbed his arm before he could open the door and get out. “You sure you want to be a part of this? I can take care of it myself.”
“They were hunting both of us.” Maddock felt the heat rising inside of him as he thought about what the men had tried to do to them. The way he saw it, justice had been meted out, but there was one more person who needed to pay. There was no telling how many murders could be laid at the man’s feet.
“I know.” Bones looked up at the night sky. “It’s just that you and I are different, Maddock. You're… better than me. You've always killed in combat or self-defense.”
“And you haven’t?”
“Well, still. I don't want you to…”
“Don't worry about it. My conscience is clear on this one. Besides, we're not going to do anything to the man. At least, not if your plan works.”
Bones gingerly drew his backpack from the back seat and held it at arm’s length. He clutched the stone in his other hand. He and Maddock had washed up in the lake and changed into clean clothes, but Maddock thought he could see a darkness in Bones’ face that wouldn’t soon wash away.
“It will work. It worked back at Dark Entry, didn't it?”
Maddock grimaced at the memory and nodded. It certainly had worked and he would never forget it. “Let's get on with it then.”
Earl Eddings checked his watch for what must have been the twentieth time. He should have heard from Carter by now. He wanted to call and make sure everything was all right, but that was strictly forbidden. Their connection had to be carefully hidden. Carter had already let too many people in on their little game. Perhaps it was time to put an end to it. He'd made a nice chunk of change out of the deal, Carter and his friends had their fun, and together they'd made sure the deaths were always written off as missing persons or tragic accidents. Perhaps they were tempting fate by keeping things going. Of course, getting out of the arrangement would be neither simple nor easy.
He propped his feet up on the desk and reached for his coffee. It had gone cold, but he didn't feel like brewing another pot. Besides, once he heard from Carter, he'd close the office and retire to his apartment in the back. He'd heat up a frozen pizza, watch a movie, maybe Smokey and the Bandit, and hit the sack. He swished the bitter drink around in his mouth and closed his eyes, trying to coax a bit of flavor from it. Paul Revere and the Raiders were on the radio. It was a good song, one of his favorites.
“I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
Eddings’ eyes snapped open as the coffee cup fell from his limp fingers. It was the Indian from earlier today. How could he be here? He got a grip on himself and forced a smile.
“Not at all, you just gave me a start, that's all.” He sat up, letting his feet fall to the floor. “Did you find the battlefield all right?” The Indian didn't appear to have a gun, just a backpack. Still smiling, Eddings let his hand drift toward the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept his .38 revolver.
“Keep your hands where we can see them.” Another man had slipped through the door while Eddings' eyes were on the Indian. He was shorter than the Indian, not quite six feet, with close-cropped blond hair, blue-gray eyes, and a calm demeanor that was somehow even more intimidating than the seething rage that boiled behind the Indian's eyes. He held a pistol trained on Eddings, and it was readily apparent that the man had both the ability and inclination to use it if he so desired.
Eddings recognized the gun. “So your plan is to kill me with Carter's gun and hope it gets pinned on him?” He forced a laugh. “You two don't understand. This is bigger than me. Bigger than this town, even. The Trident will come after you.”
“Who the hell is the Trident?”
“A group of powerful men who are very interested in the battlefield. Carter works for them.”
“You mean ‘worked’ for them.” The big Indian grinned.
Eddings’ heart raced. “If you kill me, you'll just be sticking your hand into the viper's nest.”
“Funny you should mention snakes.” The Indian deftly unzipped his backpack and upended it, spilling two twisting, black-banded forms onto the desk. Timber rattlers! They were each a good four feet long, and they both immediately coiled as if to strike, rattles buzzing, and eyes locked on Eddings.
“What is this?” Eddings tried to keep his voice calm, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. “Do you think you can make these things do your bidding?” The thought was absurd but, seeing the way these snakes kept their eyes trained on him, he believed, against all rational thought, the Indian could do exactly that.
“Oh, you wouldn't believe what I can do.” The Indian pulled a black stone from his belt and slowly drew the blade across his palm. He squeezed his fist and let the blood drip down onto the triangular stone, which seemed to sparkle as if shooting stars whirled inside it. The Indian’s eyes remained locked on Eddings as he raised the stone to his lips and whispered a single word.
The snakes struck as one. Eddings screamed as the fangs bit into him again and again, hot pain searing his body, burning through the numbing disbelief that clouded his senses. The agony seemed to go on forever. And then it stopped.
He watched through cloudy eyes as the rattlesnakes slithered off his desk, dropped to the floor, and disappeared. As light and life fled, he saw the Indian make a mocking bow, turn, and walk away.