Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Page 11

  Her companions, however, didn’t. Tom shouted a constant stream of swear words while Beth chanted the mantra, “I can do this. I can do this.”

  It made Maria respect her all the more. That is how her friend faced challenges—with positive determination. All of a sudden, Beth gagged, and Maria knew she’d swallowed an ant. In this situation, probably best to keep her positivity in her mind and not verbalize it.

  About thirty feet ahead of them the ground sloped downward and Maria saw that the insects thinned. They were going to make this. Granted, the pain coming from the lower portion of both her legs was excruciating —but she would survive. They all would.

  Tom stumbled, hollering as he fell down into the thick layer of jumbo angry bugs. Irritated and confused, the insects clambered onto him, most likely stinging him repeatedly as they did. For some reason the man did not get up. Seeing him writhe in pain forced bile up into the back of Maria’s throat.

  They had to get him off the ground. Beth was at her side in seconds. Maria reached down, being stung on her hands as she did, and grabbed Tom under his arms. Beth took his legs. Maria lifted Tom’s upper body off of the ground and began walking backward, hunched over. Beth lifted Tom’s legs. Neither of the women said a word but worked in sync as a team. The ants crawled on Tom’s face, over his eyes. Maria thought she saw one enter his nose, but she kept walking backward. The last thing she needed to do was fall down as well.

  Focus.

  Maria hadn’t felt a new sting in a while. Either the ants had decided Tom was easier prey or she had reached her pain threshold.

  Five unsteady steps. Then ten more. The insects cleared. Beth and Maria dropped Tom onto the ground at the same time and began swatting away the ants off his skin. A few straggling males flew about, but it was the crawling females they concentrated on.

  Tom seemed nearly comatose. His face was swollen twice its size. Unlike the pea-size welts on Maria’s arms and legs, Tom’s welts had swollen to the size of ping pong balls.

  This wasn’t a normal reaction to the bugs. This was a severe allergy to the ant’s poison.

  “Tom, can you hear me?” Maria asked as she picked an ant off his shirt. “Talk to me, Tom. What’s happening?”

  “Aaaaaaa.” It wasn’t a word, but it was something. He was conscious.

  “He’s swelling up everywhere.” Beth picked several more ants out of the black hair on Tom’s legs. “He must be allergic.”

  “I think so,” said Maria. She rested Tom’s head on her lap and opened her backpack. “I think I’ve got some Benadryl.”

  “Will that work at this point?” Beth’s face was twisted in pain. Her ability to empathize so well had its drawbacks. “I think he’s going into anaphylactic shock.”

  “I don’t know.” Maria ripped open the small square packet. “But it couldn’t hurt. He probably won’t be able to swallow the pills anyway, but we have to try before things get worse and his throat swells shut.”

  Beth screwed the lid off the water bottle with their last three cups of water inside. Maria lifted Tom’s head and, like she was feeding a horse medicine, she peeled his lips open and shoved the Benadryl to the back of his mouth. “Water.” She barked the order.

  Beth held the bottle steady to Tom’s lips. At first she poured it in gently, teaspoons at a time. Tom gargled but didn’t swallow.

  “More,” said Maria.

  Beth tipped the bottle higher. The water gushed into Tom’s mouth. He shuddered, gulped, and swallowed the liquid, hopefully chasing most the antihistamine down with it.

  It was all Maria could to do force herself not to look at the bottle to see how much water was left.

  “Let’s get him out of the sun and try to cool him off,” said Beth.

  No trees were in sight. The two friends worked in tandem once again to get the muscular man to the shade of some large boulders. Their own bites burned and throbbed. But their suffering would go away. Tom’s might not.

  Maria found a tube of anti-itch cream in her backpack and began applying it to the bites on Tom’s neck and face. He began to thrash about, moaning deeply.

  “Daaaaaakooo …” he mumbled.

  “Don’t talk,” Beth cautioned him. “Everything’s fine. We’re getting help.”

  Maria knew what Beth was trying to do—keep Tom calm so his cortisol levels didn’t soar. But no help was coming. Not unless they could let people know where they were. The good news was that the air was cooling and nighttime was on its way.

  “I’m going to go look for something to burn. We’ll light a fire once it gets dark to signal our location. We’re completely out of water. We’ll just have to take our chances with the crazy archer who’s been following us. If Melissa, Derrick and Rep. Lankin all know we’re here, maybe they’ll have the sense to come looking for us when we don’t make it back by evening.”

  “Smart. I’ll keep watch over Tom. Any suggestions?”

  Maria shook her head. “Not much. Maybe keep his chin up to keep the throat as open as possible. At this point I think we’ll have to wait and see what his body can do on its own. I know we can’t carry him out of this mountain.”

  “Okay.” Beth tried to smile, but it was slow in coming. “Hurry back.”

  ***

  As she walked, Maria scanned the landscape for anything that might hold a flame. However, this part of the mountain was devoid of most trees. Instead she focused on finding a dead saguaro. About half a mile from where she had left Tom and Beth, she found what she was looking for—a fallen cactus about six feet tall. The flesh of the dead saguaro had turned into a heavy wooden mass. Its hardened arms jutted out from the trunk like a human body suffering the effects of rigor mortis.

  Exerting herself, despite her heat exhaustion and need for water, Maria dragged the cactus using a rope from her backpack. It was slow work, but after a period of trial and error she was on her way back to Beth and Tom, dead saguaro in tow. As she walked, her mind churned over the day’s events. What they had gone through reminded her of the story Derrick had told a few nights back around the campfire—the one about the Apaches hunting down and killing the Mexican Peralta mining party.

  More and more, Maria believed Melissa was right. Everything that had happened was too coincidental. Coming to Arizona, finding the body, discovering all of the evidence left at the crime scene. What was real? Any of it?

  As Maria trudged along, keeping her eyes forward, focused on the goal of reaching Beth and Tom, she realized she was not alone.

  Maria spun her head to see Dakota walking at her side. It was like the ghost had read her thoughts and had decided to join her to help mull over the details of her own murder.

  Maria stopped. “Don’t be afraid.” She held out an open palm. “Can you understand me?”

  A confused look was the only answer Maria received. Acalan had been able to communicate some—at least give his name. Maybe as far as ghost years went, Dakota was still a young one, confused about where she was and what was happening around her?

  “Can you move your head?” Maria demonstrated by nodding and shaking her head. “Can you do that for me?”

  Dakota’s ghost followed her lead, moving her head up and down, then side to side.

  “Good.” Maria smiled. Pointing to herself, she said, “My name is Maria.” She then nodded her head. “Yes.”

  A sliver of understanding appeared on Dakota’s face.

  “You,” Maria said slowly, “are dead. Yes?” She thought it was best to start off with something easy.

  Dakota moved her head up and down. To Maria, it felt like having a conversation with a magic eight ball.

  “Did Rod kill you?”

  Dakota was back to the confused look.

  Okay, maybe that was a little too fast. Maria backtracked. “Rod.” She pointed to her ring finger on her left hand. “Your husband?”

  Dakota cocked her head, listening but clearly not grasping the point.

  Maria’s mind whirled. Maybe a ghost could
n’t remember his or her last few moments of life. Maybe Dakota didn’t know who killed her. It made sense. Who wouldn’t want to forget the last few moments of terror until death finally took you as its victim? Maria certainly didn’t want memories like that for an eternity.

  Maria talked more slowly. “Dakota, do you remember who you were with when you died?”

  “Maria, who are you talking to?”

  The sound of Beth’s voice startled Maria. She jerked back in surprise, and Dakota faded.

  “Oh. Beth. I … I didn’t know you … you were there,” Maria stammered. “H-how’s Tom?”

  “Who were you talking to?” Beth came closer.

  “No one.” Maria squirmed.

  “Sure sounded like you were talking to someone. Do you talk to yourself like that a lot?”

  “Yeah. I do it all the time. It’s something they taught us in the CIA—a way to brainstorm effectively.”

  Beth’s expression soured. “You know I can tell you’re lying. You were talking to someone. What gives?”

  In an instant Maria weighed the pros and cons of telling her best friend about her ghost issues, and then promptly decided against it. There was no reason to burden her with that bombshell.

  Maria looked at her best friend, held open her arms, and lied. “Why would I not tell you the truth about something like that? No lies from me. Just brainstorming with myself.”

  “So why were you calling yourself Dakota. Sorry. That’s weird.” Beth continued to eye Maria suspiciously.

  “How’s Tom?” Maria changed the subject.

  “Conscious. The Benadryl worked. We’re only about thirty yards from where he is. I had to use the bathroom so I left him for a minute, and then I saw you chatting to yourself.”

  “Right.” Maria smiled at Beth.

  “By the way, what’s that?” Beth pointed to the saguaro at Maria’s feet.

  “A dead cactus. Burning it should make a decent signal fire.” Maria picked up the rope and started pulling it again.

  “Perfect. The sooner we get out of here the better.” Beth scratched at one of the insect bites on her arm. “Hey, there’s something I wanted to tell you before Tom can hear us.”

  “Yeah?”

  “When Tom was out and mumbling, I finally figured out what he was saying.”

  “What?” asked Maria.

  “Dakota. He was repeating Dakota’s name.”

  Maria tried to lick her dried lips, but her parched tongue gave no relief. “Weird.”

  A crooked grin spread over Beth’s face. “Maybe he was just brainstorming with himself as well.”

  A pang of guilt shot through Maria for lying to her best friend. “Funny. Very funny. Let’s get back and start a bonfire. Someone should see us. Hopefully it’s not the guy with the bow and arrow.”

  “Okay.” Beth hesitated. “Maria, I hope you know you can tell me anything. I promise I’ll understand.”

  “Thanks,” Maria answered. After a moment she added, “You’re a good friend, Beth. You really are.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jacob Waltz (sic) was born in Prussia, most likely in the year 1810. Speculation had it that in the year 1839 or thereabouts, Waltz landed in New York harbor and set foot upon American Soil for the first time. From New York he journeyed to St. Louis and eventually headed west, lured by the promise of the California gold fields… In September 1863, Jacob Waltz staked and recorded his first mining claim in Arizona.

  —“Fool’s Gold,” by Robert Sikorsky, Golden West Publishers, 1983, pages 36-38.

  THE HELICOPTER SPOTTED THEM at half past midnight. By the next morning, Tom was in the hospital and Beth and Maria were tucked into bed at Brian’s house.

  Very uncharacteristically, Maria slept almost until noon. When she woke up, her skin itched horribly from the bites and her mind was in panic mode. She was going to visit Rod today.

  The small visiting cell.

  The orange jump suit.

  The armed guards.

  All of it was completely anxiety provoking. Not to mention the question that had been tormenting her since they’d found Dakota’s skeleton—was Rod guilty of murder?

  ***

  On the drive to the jail, Beth had convinced Maria it was best for her to see Rod without her, at least for the first bit of her visit. She’d said they needed some time, just the two of them—that was if you didn’t count the guard standing watch.

  Now that Maria was inside the room the jail used for visitors, her innards swam back and forth. She checked where the closest garbage can was, just in case her late lunch decided to part ways with her stomach.

  This is Rod, Maria reminded herself. There’s nothing to be scared of.

  He was the man who had saved her life in Three Lakes. The man she’d trusted to belay her as she climbed the Cracks to save the teenage boy Josh.

  Had that really only been a few days ago?

  The door of the small visiting room opened behind her. She turned, expecting her rising angst to calm once she saw Rod’s brilliant turquoise eyes and lopsided smile.

  But there were no sparkling blue eyes or familiar smile.

  Rod’s facial hair was untrimmed and ragged. The hair on his head was too short to be disheveled, but it mushed to one side. His eyes were a dull, pigeon gray. His face the color of a polluted sky.

  What in the world had happened to him?

  He swayed as he walked, a cross between a drunken frat student and someone dancing the Tango.

  “Rod? You okay?” Maria stood up in case she had to catch him.

  “I’ve never been better.” His breath came in sporadic pants. “Everything makes sense.”

  “It does?” Maria watched him crisscross his way to his chair across the table from her. The guard who had led him in the room lifted his index finger to his temple and twirled it in a circle. The universal sign for crazy.

  What was that about?

  Rod plopped down in his chair and slouched backward, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Maria expected him to say something, but when he didn’t, she asked, “What’s going on, Rod?”

  He scratched at his facial hair for a good ten seconds before answering. “We’re pawns. In the game. The Great Zon is calling the shots. But I know how to trick him. Throw him off the scent.”

  “The Great Zon?” Maria had no idea who he was talking about.

  “A-ma-zon.” Rod enunciated every syllable. “The mastermind of chaos and liberalism.” He stopped and swallowed and for the first time looked Maria in the face. “Or is it conservatism? Not sure. But it doesn’t matter. The Zon wants me dead, but I’m going to trick him. Dakota helped me figure out how. She told me last night that—”

  “Dakota told you something last night?”

  “Yes.” Rod picked at a scab that was forming on his arm.

  “Dakota’s dead, Rod. We found her skeleton in the Superstition Mountains. Remember? The police came? You were arrested?” In front of the guard, Maria didn’t want to mention the other reason how they knew Dakota was dead—the fact that both she and Rod had seen her ghost.

  Rod leaned in toward the table, his eyes shifting back and forth between the guard and Maria. “I’m so glad you came. I can warn you. Join me in the fight.”

  “What?” Maria wished Beth could be here so she could see how bizarre Rod was acting.

  Rod rambled on. “I’m going to beat him to it. I will get rid of myself before the Great Zon gets rid of me. You can too.” A long pause, then he whispered, “They have your number.”

  “Rod, how are you going to get rid of yourself? What do you mean?” The sick feeling in Maria’s gut had only gotten worse.

  Folding his arms around his chest, Rod looked like a mischievous preschooler. “I can’t tell you. It’s my secret.” Then he winked at Maria, as if it was some sort of shared joke.

  Which it wasn’t.

  Turning to the guard, Maria asked, “When did he start acting like this? And what are you guys doing about it?”<
br />
  “He’s been rambling about the Great Zon and the land of the munchkins ever since I took my shift, about five hours ago. He won’t shut up until I ask him a question, and then he gets all moody and sullen. Like now.” The guard pointed his chin at Rod.

  Rod now eyed Maria suspiciously, glowering at her. “Are you one of them?” And then with complete exasperation, he ran his hand over the top of his head. “The Great Zon has gotten to her too.”

  Rod had never acted like this before. Over the last few months she had seen him almost daily. They had, at times, acted a little goofy together, like when they climbed every tree in the Kanab cemetery in honor of Mrs. Wolfgramme’s cat Cocoa Puffs. But this wasn’t goofy. Rod appeared seriously mentally ill. How could it have come on so fast? Had it been building? Perhaps Rod hadn’t really seen Dakota’s ghost the other night at the restaurant. Maybe it had been the beginning of this psychosis?

  As Rod continued to mumble to himself, Maria stood up and spoke to the guard. “This isn’t like him at all. We need to call his lawyer and let her know what’s going on. Is he being drugged?”

  The guard grunted and then sarcastically answered, “Yeah, we give our prisoners all the drugs they want. You can call his lawyer if you want. It’s got nothing to do with—”

  Rod jumped to his feet. “Don’t call that woman!” He shouted. “Dakota told me not to let her talk to me. She is the Great Zon. Please, don’t call her!”

  Rod bent over and began to sob. Deep, gut wrenching noises erupted from deep within him.

  Maria stiffened. Had there been an attacking grizzly bear in the room she would have known what to do. But this? She was helpless.

  “Rod,” began Maria, “Melissa is not the Great—”

  “Yes she is.” Rod’s lifted his face, cheeks wet with tears. Mucus ran from his nostrils. He ignored the box of Kleenex on the table. Instead, he let the mess run down his chin and fall uninterrupted onto his orange jumpsuit.

  No, no, no, thought Maria. This couldn’t be happening.

  Rod was going crazy. Undeniably bonkers. Where was Dr. Roberts when she needed him?