Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Read online

  Is she trying to stop me from going inside? Angry thoughts flared in Maria’s mind even though she didn’t understand why.

  Why was Dakota trying to stop her? She had to go inside the crevice. Everything she’d ever wanted waited for her there. Dakota couldn’t stop her. She was only a ghost, and a rather pathetic one at that.

  Moving forward more quickly now, Maria headed straight toward the ghostly figure. Only five feet away from Dakota, Maria braced herself to walk through the apparition. Dakota did not move position. She continued to hold her arms out in front of her, shaking her head. Wild eyes. Tense jaw. Trouble and concern oozing from her.

  Maria didn’t care. Not in the slightest. She took another several steps forward. The closer she got to Dakota, the more she felt an icy grip squeeze her heart. Goosebumps burst on her arms.

  Still, Maria continued on. Another step and the arm that Dakota held in front of her disappeared into Maria’s chest. An icicle stabbed into her lungs.

  But nothing mattered—except finding the yellow light that called to her from inside the crag.

  A familiar digital chirping sound woke Maria from her walking trance.

  Her phone!

  Someone had texted.

  Ranger Ferlund.

  Amy was coming.

  He must have seen her car.

  Like waking from a much-too-real nightmare, Maria leaned back. Dakota’s hand slipped out of her chest and the chill dissipated. Maria’s hands trembled as she yanked her cell phone out of the side pocket of her backpack.

  It was not Ranger Ferlund letting her know he’d spotted Amy’s car.

  Instead, the top line of the text read:

  LAB RESULTS

  Maria took another step back, increasing the space between her and the ghost of Rod’s ex-wife.

  Anxiety took a hold of Maria once again, but this time for a different reason.

  Had the lab found anything? Could this be the answer to Rod’s recovery?

  Maria hoped it wasn’t too late. She tapped the text to open it. The phone didn’t respond. Her finger was too sweaty.

  Wiping her hand on her shirt, she tried again. This time the app opened and the message unveiled itself. Four paragraphs of scientific gobbledygook text swam in front of her eyes along with a complex chemical composition with hexagons and lines everywhere.

  Okay, so where’s the stuff that normal people can understand?

  A ringing in Maria’s ears was getting more pronounced. The inside of her mouth getting pastier by the second.

  What had Rod contracted? What was wrong with him?

  At last she spied a list formatted in bullet points. There had to be something in there she could understand. She read it aloud in hopes she’d better understand it.

  Identified contaminants of solution include:

  nitrogen (trace amount)

  Barkhilderiaierium pseudomellai

  “What in the world is that?” Maria asked, directing her question to Dakota. Was there really such a thing? She continued to scan the report for more information.

  The next paragraph hypothesized how the nitrogen had found its way into the solution. Nothing seemed too out-of-the-ordinary. The lab indicated the nitrogen could have been introduced in the warehouse where the produce had been packaged. It was a common finding. However, that was not the case with Barkhilderiaierium pseudomellai.

  Native to northern Australia and Vietnam, Barkhilderiaierium pseudomellai, also known as the insanity bug, is rare and typically found only in the most rural parts of the area. It gains entrance to the body through contact with the eyes. Traveling quickly through the brain barrier, the bacteria over stimulates the amygdala and begins to promote the random firing of neuron pathways. As the infection continues, high fever, sweats and chills ensue as well as extreme mental confusion. In the early stages of the disease, the bacterial infection is treatable, but only with the gram-negative antibiotic Ceftazidime. Without treatment, prognosis is severe mental impairment akin to untreatable schizophrenia and eventual death. While hard to diagnose, the tell-tale sign is the unusual swelling of the eyes, the point of entry into the body, two to three days after infection.

  Sometimes Maria hated being right. Rod was sick. Amy was guilty. She had infected Rod. The only question left was why?

  Maria didn’t have proof convicting Amy of Dakota’s murder, but she did have significant evidence implicating Amy in Rod’s illness. Yet for the moment, Amy’s guilt could wait. For now, Maria needed to get this information from the lab to Rod’s doctors at Phoenix General. Maria prayed Rod was still in what was considered the early stages of the disease. She wiped the sweat once more off her fingers and tapped the word “Forward” at the top of the message.

  The dull ringing in her ears had been joined by a sporadic screeching. It was an odd symptom that her PTSD had never produced before. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the grating sound, until she realized it wasn’t in her ears. The penetrating noise was coming toward her, through the air, growing louder by the second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Julia Thomas … a widow who ran a bakery and confectionary in what was then downtown Phoenix … took the old man, Jacob Walz, into her own home. But there was little she could do for him. He contracted pneumonia. They both knew the bed he was lying in was his deathbed. With a trembling hand, he drew a map and gave it to Julia.

  —“Mysteries & Miracles of Arizona” by Jack Kutz. Rhombus Publishing Company, 1992, page 29.

  THE WARNING HAD COME unexpectedly. It always did.

  An intruder.

  Someone passing an ancient barrier they shouldn’t have.

  If only they would stay away, life would be simpler. Certainly less deadly.

  But, no.

  The treasure seekers came. The nature lovers. Even the innocent tourists. Most left none the wiser. But there were the few. Those who had the Sight. They saw past the veil. Into the heart of the Superstitions.

  They were not welcome.

  No trial. No forgiveness. No return.

  There was no other way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Mrs. (Julia) Thomas, formerly of Thomas Ice Cream Parlor, is now in the Superstition Mountains engaged in a work usually deemed strange for a woman’s sphere. She is prospecting for a lost mine, the location of which she believes she holds the key. But somehow, she has failed after two months work to locate the bonanza.

  —“A Queer Quest in Search of Gold: Another ‘Lost Mine’ Being Hunted for by a Woman.” Arizona Daily Gazette, 1892.

  BLACK SCRATCHY FEATHERS BRUSHED against Maria’s face along with a sharp curved claw that struck at her temple. The pain was instant. Blood dripped from the side of her face.

  What was going on?

  Maria swung her arms about, shooing the bird away. But it seemed to have no fear of her, despite being one tenth her size. It hovered near her head, zooming in, seeking a fresh patch of bare flesh to scratch. A small leather pouch hung around one of its legs, bumping into her face at each attack.

  “Get out of here!” Maria yelled, but the sound traveled no further than a few inches in front of her mouth, caught in the cocoon of mist.

  She had to forward the text message about the bacteria to Beth. Then she would deal with this psycho bird. But its wings and claws were unyielding, swatting at her face and poking into her skin.

  As Maria flung herself back and forth, side to side on the top of the plateau, she tried to catch a break—long enough to simply hit the forward button. But the break never came. The bird relentlessly tormented her, pecking close to her eyes, screeching into her ear. She lifted both her hands into the air and tried to shove the bird off her shoulder.

  The bird opened its beak and clamped down on Maria’s fingers, the ones holding fast to her phone.

  “Ouch!” she hollered, the exclamation making no more noise than a muted, polite cough. She attempted to shake her hand free, accidentally loosening her grip on the phone and launching it
into the air, text unsent.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears as blood rushed to her head and limbs—a primeval reaction to danger. A way to quicken thinking and increase strength.

  Only neither came.

  Her thoughts were muddled with confusion and indecision. Her arms and legs gangly and floundering, like those of a newborn fawn.

  The phone.

  The information about the bacteria.

  Rod needed her help.

  Dropping to the ground, Maria crawled in the direction the phone had flown. Small jagged rocks cut into her knees and the palms of her hands. She protected her face from the onslaught of additional scrapes and gashes from the bird by bending her neck down and pressing her arms against her cheeks. The winged creature flew in front of her, trying to get in the empty space between her and the ground.

  How far away was her phone? It hadn’t gone off the cliff, had it?

  The rising panic in her gut spread quickly to the rest of her body, causing her to shake.

  What if she couldn’t find it?

  What if she was too late?

  What if Rod had already died?

  The bird swooped in once again, making other worldly noises as it flew. Its leather pouch swung from its leg. Its beak smeared with the blood it had drawn from Maria’s flesh.

  Maria’s stuttered breathing quickly turned into hyperventilating. The bird squawked again, but Maria kept moving forward. Off to the left. Next to the right.

  The phone.

  Where was it?

  The spires and cliffs around her had faded into a gray, murky soup. She couldn’t see anything more than a few feet ahead of her. The phone could easily be at the bottom of the canyon and she would have no clue.

  But still she crawled.

  Rod’s life depended on it. And very possibly hers.

  A moment later, Maria spotted something to her left. The sight of her neon yellow waterproof and shatterproof cell case was like an oasis to a desert traveler.

  It rested on the ground, peacefully, unaware of the battle that was happening three feet away between woman and bird.

  Or was it?

  As Maria scrambled over the dirt until the phone was a mere half foot from her hand, the bird had disappeared from her view. But she was not alone. She could feel it. She could hear it. But she could not see it.

  A cloud of darkness quickly fell around her, masking once again the location of the phone. Confident of its general direction, Maria combed her hand along the ground, feeling for the familiar rectangular-shaped device. Again, she was attacked from above.

  However, the talons had been replaced by a fisted human hand that hit her in the side of the head, making everything swim inside it.

  Maria’s training told her to fight back. Her desire for Rod to get better told her to keep looking for the phone. Using both hands, she frantically felt the ground. Rocks. Pokey weeds. No cell phone.

  Another punch to the side of her face, and then something was grabbing at her back. Under her shirt. At her gun holster! She reached around, trying to stop it from happening, but she was too late. Her gun had been ripped free and thrown into the air. Moments later she heard it land on the canyon floor below.

  Maria swung her shoulder around and up, hoping to connect with her attacker but catching only air. Surprised, Maria strained to see into the blackness to identify who had taken her gun and was trying to beat her senseless.

  There was no one there. No shape took form. No figure materialized in the obscurity before her.

  Maria dropped down to the floor of the mountain top once more, determined to find the phone. She hardly had a chance to breathe before strong fingers gripped her ankle and pulled her back several feet. She tried to squirm free while kicking with her other foot.

  Her attacker’s grip didn’t loosen. Maria managed to flip onto her back, anxious to see who it was. But again her eyes failed her. While she could feel sharp fingernails digging into the skin by her ankles, she could see nothing but darkened shadows. She was dragged a few more feet, very aware of the empty place in the hollow of her back where her gun should have been.

  Seconds later her attacker was at her side, hands closing round Maria’s neck.

  Squeezing.

  Restricting the air and life from her body.

  Desperation clouded Maria’s judgement. Whispering words of failure and doom echoed in her thoughts. As her fear grew, so did the blackness around her.

  Relax.

  Had she really told herself that?

  How ridiculous was she?

  Someone, or something, was trying to choke her to death. This wasn’t the time to—

  Relax.

  If she had been serenely resting on her bed, Maria would have distrusted any advice her thoughts could conjure. But it was in moments of complete and utter distress when Maria actually dared trust herself.

  And so she did.

  She relaxed.

  Normally, that would have meant taking a deep breath, which she couldn’t do while being strangled, so instead she pushed her anxiety downward. Down. Down. Down. All of it now contained in her small toe. Next she released the strain on all of her muscles. She closed her eyes, and then slowly opened them.

  A man’s face came into focus.

  Dark hair.

  Brown eyes.

  Leathery skin.

  A determined frown.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Stories have been circulating concerning mysterious disappearances of luckless prospectors who entered the range on an organized search and … were never heard of after.

  —“Phoenix Herald,” 1886

  RANGER FERLUND?

  HE LEANED over her, still dressed in his tan official uniform. The only difference was the leather satchel he wore around his thigh, similar to the one the bird had sported, was larger and more bulky.

  Why was he trying to kill her?

  With Maria’s newfound vision, she was able to slip her hands between Ranger Ferlund’s arms and then push upward and out, flinging his forearms wide and breaking his grip around her neck. She immediately rolled to the side and jumped onto her feet, her head woozy from the lack of oxygen but her body strong, no longer crippled by fear.

  The ranger stared at her, a look of surprise covered his face. “You can see me?”

  “Yes.” Maria’s arms were raised and her fists clenched, prepared to strike. “I can. If you want to fight, then I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

  “And you can hear me?” More surprised registered across the ranger’s brow.

  “Clearly, yes. You want to give up now?” Sweat mixed with blood that dripped from Maria’s forehead.

  “This is very unusual.” He shook his head, as if trying to solve a difficult math problem. “You are very unusual. I had thought you might have the Sight. But to hear me and see me. Very odd.”

  For a moment, Maria’s attention dropped to the ground where her phone rested inches from Ranger Ferlund’s boot. He followed her gaze. “Ah yes, cell phones. These are pesky things.” With that he raised his foot high into the air and stomped the neon yellow object several times with his ranger boot.

  Crunch.

  So much for Maria’s unconditional, smash proof warranty. The case was shattered. The phone’s screen dark. Her chance to alert the doctors to Rod’s condition gone.

  What if she never made it off this mountain? Rod would slip deeper into insanity. The infection would ravage his body. Maybe even kill him. Who knew? Maybe he was already gone?

  A scream escaped from Maria’s lips. This time it carried far into the air. Ricocheting off cliff walls, echoing into the canyons. She was leaving the Superstitions. Her skeleton would not be found here, years after her disappearance, picked clean by animals and bugs.

  She was getting out of this forsaken place and saving Rod.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Ranger Ferlund opened the satchel around his leg and pulled a knife from inside. The blade was long. Maria was s
hocked it had fit in the bag. But there it was, and clearly Ranger Ferlund knew how to use it.

  He swung it around in his hand several times and spoke something in a language Maria didn’t understand. Something ancient.

  “Why are you doing this?” Maria asked as she shifted her feet in the correct position for defending a knife attack. “Is it for some stupid treasure?”

  “You know nothing of our kind,” the ranger said as he began to circle her. “We keep our mountain sacred. I have kept her secrets safe for hundreds of years.”

  “You mean the secret where the gold is hidden?” Maria hoped the questions would distract him, give her a chance to disarm him.

  He laughed. “Gold is not our treasure.”

  “Did you kill the woman? Dakota? And how about the other people the Keepers take pictures of and who then disappear?” Maria’s goal was to keep him talking. So far so good.

  “I don’t know their names. It does not matter to us.” The ranger moved forward several inches, knife held out in front. “What matters is they have the Sight. They see through our barriers. They are intruders. As are you.”

  “But why? I don’t get it.” Maria eyes scanned the ground for a stick or rock she could use to defend herself. Nothing was there. Just small sharp rocks, thorny weeds, and a pulverized cell phone.

  “Others thought they could drive us from our land. But they could not. The Pima, the Apaches, the Mexicans, the white settlers, they all deceive themselves. We have not gone. We are inside the mountain. She is our fortress. Our shield from those who seek to take her away. And I am the Guardian. I kill all who try to enter.” Ranger Ferlund perched to strike.

  Maria waited for him to make the first move.

  But he stalled. “Out of the many others, you are the first who can see me. Why?”

  A year ago Maria would have had several good answers—because she already lived among the dead, because her soul had been taken from her, because she was devoid of a desire for life.

  But today? Today she had no explanation. None of those things applied to her anymore. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  As if that was his cue, the wiry, muscled man leaped in the air straight toward her, knife in hand.