Trail of Lightning

Chapter 34

We leave Grace’s All-American in the dark hours before dawn. I lead a small army. Clive and Rissa ride point, primed for speed and agility on their motorbikes. They will arrive first, scout the location, and radio back on the walkie-talkies Grace provided us. Kai and I follow in my truck, and Hastiin and thirty of his Thirsty Boys bring up the rear.

The western sky is an inky black above the open desert. Cloud cover is a blessing that keeps starlight at bay, and the moon is waning to little more than a sliver. The easiest path leads us through Tse Bonito, but we all agree it would be safer to circle well south of town, even if it eats into our time.

“We’ll skim the southern Wall,” Hastiin offers. “No way Law Dogs are searching that far south. Not enough man power.”

“Look on the bright side,” Clive says.

“Which is . . . ?” I ask.

“You’ll get to see the southern Wall.”

Hastiin gives him a nod. “You bet your ass. Two hundred–odd miles of solid turquoise, fifty feet high. A goddamn wonder of the Sixth World.”

And it’s everything Hastiin implied it would be. At first, it’s a glimmer of blue in the morning twilight, looking more like a distant ocean than anything else. But as we get closer, I can see it for what it is. The work of the Diyin Dine’é.

Hastiin raises his hand and we all pull forward and kill our engines, a consensus to stop and marvel.

“Other side of that Wall is a damned Big Water nightmare,” a Thirsty Boy says to his friend, loud enough for us to overhear through the open windows of the truck. “Makes you feel lucky to be Diné, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Kai says, his voice low so only I hear. “It makes you feel small.”

I don’t say anything, but Kai’s close to the truth. It’s a reminder of the power we’ll be up against in a few hours. Because if the Diyin Dine’é can do something like this, what chance do we really have against Neizghání?

“Let’s go,” I say. Shove the truck back into gear and pull out first. The Thirsty Boys and the Goodacres fall back into formation and we move west, keeping the Wall to our left for another fifty miles, until Hastiin signals for us to cut north.

Time passes quickly, the excitement of seeing the Wall up close and general nerves keeping us alert and keyed up. For a while there’s a lot of banter on the walkie-talkies. The twins calling out every arroyo the truck might accidentally careen down. But after a while they settle. The wind whips through the open window, and the cool stillness of the early dawn fills the cab. Kai and I are quiet, each wrapped in our own thoughts. The silence between us is thick, surprisingly tense.

“You sleep okay?” I ask, concerned. I’m well aware he expended so much of his energy healing me, and I’m about to ask even more from him.

For a moment he stares at me, stunned, like a deer in the headlights. But then he seems to shake himself. “Yeah, just bad dreams again. Can’t get rid of them.”

I nod. I’m pretty sure we all had bad dreams last night.

Two hours later and we hit the turnoff at Rough Rock, leaving any road and signs of civilization behind. I turn briefly to look over my shoulder, but the town quickly disappears into the darkness.

“Not much farther,” I tell Kai. “The nest of Bad Men we took out was at the mine. It’s been abandoned for a while now, but there’s trade to be had in salvaging the old equipment. Plus, Bad Men use the coal seams in their ceremonies . . .” I realize I’m babbling. Nerves. And Kai’s not even listening to me. He’s looking out the windshield, eyes on the sky. I follow his gaze.

“Look at that sky,” he says. “Does that look normal to you?”

The sky should be bright by now, the impossible blue of an autumn morning. Instead it looks faintly green. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

“It’s like my dream,” I whisper.

Kai whips around, eyes wide and worried.

“I had a dream. Back when we first met. There was some weird shit in it. Neizghání dressed as a witch. You, with wings of some kind. Anyway, in my dream the sky was like this over Black Mesa.”

“I believe in dreams,” Kai says hoarsely. “Do you think it meant something?”

I frown. “I hope not. That one didn’t end well. Hey, you sure you’re okay? You seem—”

The receiver crackles. “Rabbit, this is Rissa. You there? Over.”

Kai picks up the walkie-talkie. “This is Rabbit. What do you see? Over.”

“You still letting her call you Rabbit?” I ask.

“I don’t think I can stop her,” he mutters.

Rissa says, “We don’t see anything.”

“Could you be more specific? Over.”

“I mean there’s nothing here at the mine entrance, in the place Maggie told us to look. Over.”

“Are you sure?” I say, grabbing the walkie-talkie. I add a belated “over.”

“I’m sure. You said take the road into the mine, right? Well, we’re there, only there’s . . .”

The transmissions dissolve into static and a loud boom vibrates through the speaker, echoes outside around us. A flash of lightning at the top of the mine’s old slurry tower.

“That’s our cue,” I tell Kai, my voice high and jittery. I bring the truck to a stop, anxiety thrumming through my body now. I open the door and slide out. He moves over to take my spot behind the wheel.

“You positive you want to do this?” he asks.

“Just remember the plan, okay?”

He nods. “Maggie . . .”

I look up, already on edge, the adrenaline kicking in. My mind already on what comes next.

“Remember that we’re friends, okay?” he says. “And I . . . I’m on your side.”

I smile. “More than friends. Partners. Now go. Don’t keep the rest of them waiting.” I slam the door closed. Watch the truck rumble away into the darkness. Shake my hands out, nervous. Worried about this crazy plan. Worried that despite Kai’s reassurances, I may not make it through alive this time.

I wait until the truck’s trail of dust has disappeared, briefly palm my weapons. Shotgun on my back, shells at my waist. No Böker, but I’ve got my throwing knives and the Glock and the new leather pouch on my belt, holding Ma’ii’s naayéé’ ats’os. The hoops are slightly warm against my hip, like living things. I roll my shoulders and take a few deep breaths.

I start slow, just jogging, getting my footing on the dry cracked earth. The land here is barren, nothing like the relative lushness of the mountains or my little valley. The sad sickness of Black Mesa settles in around me. In the growing light, under the green sky, it is suddenly so much like my dream that chills race across my arms, pulling goose bumps.

I hit my rhythm after a half mile. Speed up until I’m running at a steady clip. The slurry tower grows larger and larger, looming over the vomit-colored sky. I stay low, moving as quickly and as quietly as I can. I hit the first outbuilding and start climbing up the narrow metal ladder that runs the length of the tower. The first few stories go quickly, but by the time I’m halfway up, the metal is cold under my hands and it rattles and shakes like it wants to separate from the building and send me tumbling to the ground. Too loud, I tell myself, even though I know there’s no way he didn’t see my approach. I pause to warm my hands, scan the ground below me. I can see the motorbikes sprinting across the mesa, but still no monsters. I touch my hands to the hoops again and remind myself of Kai’s plan.

“You can do this, Maggie,” I tell myself. Because once I’m on the roof, I’ll be afforded a 360-degree view of the entire landscape. It’s the perfect lookout, and that lightning strike tells me that Neizghání agrees with me.

Only when I pull myself up to the roof, it’s not Neizghání who is waiting for me.

“Yá’át’ééh, Magdalena,” Coyote says. “How delightful. Have you come to watch the carnage?”