Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

“Wake up. I just got some info on the guy who drowned in the Tabor reservoir.”

Robert rubbed his eyes and sat up. The bright sunlight made his head hurt. “What is it?”

“You’re right. He’s another cousin of yours. It all checks out. And the cops think you have something to do with his family missing.”

Robert turned his head and stared at the forest rushing past.

“So why did Marsh choose us?”

“Maybe it has something to do with the map. I’d bet money your cousins each had a copy of it.”

“If that’s the case, then what is the purpose of us having fight? Couldn’t Marsh just take the map and go get what he wants without getting anyone killed?”

Will let up on the accelerator as a state patrol car passed in the opposite direction. The deputy didn’t even turn his head.

“That’s what’s so weird about it. It’s like you’ve been chosen for some kind of blood ritual. Whoever Marsh is working for has got to be seriously fucked up. If he’s got an agenda it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Do you think it could be someone who has held a grudge against my family for a long time?”

“I don’t think it’s anyone outside the family that’s behind this. Why go to all the trouble? This might be crazy idea, but I think it’s somebody in your family tree who is orchestrating all of this.”

Robert shook his head and laughed bitterly. “But it’s not possible. There aren’t many relatives left on my father’s side. Alive anyway.”

Will’s face darkened and he chewed pensively on his lower lip.

“What is it?”

“I never told you about something I once saw.”

“How long ago was it?”

“Back when we were in Mexico.”

“And you’re waiting until now to tell me this story?”

“Yes, and I don’t know why. There was just so much shit happening back then. I never really believed it myself. I guess I thought I should keep it buried. But things sometimes take time to work their way back up. Like wood slivers in your hand.”

“What was I doing during this?”

“You were unconscious when it happened.”

Will took a sip of coffee. The highway began to ascend Mt. Hood, not far from the gravel road that led to the house where Robert’s grandfather once lived.

“Well I don’t remember being unconscious,” Robert said.

“It was only for a short time Bobby. It wasn’t like you’d been knocked out by anything.”

“Where were we?”

“We were holed up in that hacienda. Waiting for it to get dark so we could go rescue your dad. A couple of Garcia’s thugs stood in front while the heat inside was killing us both. We were just lying on the dusty floor trying to stay quiet. Then I heard this voice, real thin, like a whisper. At first I thought it was you. But when I looked over your mouth wasn’t open and you didn’t even react when I touched your shoulder.

“For a second I thought maybe there was someone inside the hacienda with us, and I was thinking shit, this is great, because we’ve got two assholes standing outside who’ve been ordered to kill us. But when I looked around I didn’t see anyone until I saw a shape pass many times through a shaft of light beaming down from a hole in the busted roof. I thought I was just seeing shit because the thing moving in and out of the dusty light was practically transparent.

“When I sat up and rubbed my eyes the thing stopped moving. Then just as I was about to turn back around and check on you again I saw the face of a man appear in the light, and the sight of him sent chills down across my skin despite the fact we were inside a fucking oven being slowly baked alive.

“As you know, I’ve never been a believer in ghosts. I’m a die-hard skeptic through and through. But here was something I could see with my own eyes. So I whispered to the glimmering form, asked what it wanted. He didn’t look up. He just stared at you on the floor next to me, as if he’d known you for a long time. Then I heard him move through the dark and he started making scratching sounds at the door. I swore at him under my breath to stop what he was doing but he ignored me. Then I heard the two men outside start to talking excitedly and they began to wrestle with the broken handle of the front door.

“They were going to kill us for sure, I thought. I tried shaking you again, but you just lay there like you were in some kind of deep trance. I aimed for the door hoping I could pick at least one of them off before they burst in with their rifles. When they finally broke inside and I could see the bright light coming in through the doorway the ghost or whatever it was attacked them, drove them back out into the light.

“I listened to their screams as they ran off down the street. Then I heard several gunshots and things went quiet again. Later when we split up, I saw the two men lying dead in an alley. Someone had taken their rifles and stripped them of their boots and several scab-covered pigs had started feeding on the bloating bodies.

“To this day I believe a ghost saved our lives back in that run down hacienda. Even if we’d been able to deal with those Garcia boys the noise it took to do it would have drawn more trouble than we could handle.”

Robert stared at his friend after he’d finished.

“Let me tell you what I know about my great grandfather.”

CHAPTER 39

Charlie Maynard gave up the idea of returning home and exacting his revenge upon the cruel sea captain who’d shanghaied him. The need had vanished. Instead, he’d grown fond of the islanders who’d once tried to kill him. Had his master not received a powerful vision of Charlie coming back from the dead to learn the ancient ways, he would not have survived.

He no longer saw the people he lived with as savages. Despite having an irrational fear toward a spirit world they believed woven intricately with their own, Maynard witnessed great flashes of intelligence and wisdom in his fellow tribesmen. It wasn’t until he’d learned the skills of his master, however, that he too became familiar with the deeper source of their fear.

The witch doctor’s name was Oman, and his ebony skin was the darkest of any African Maynard had seen during his travels. In contrast, the elderly man’s hair was as white as the necklace of bleached bones hanging from his neck. He smiled often, even when he was angry. Old pink scars would swell and writhe while he performed his most difficult tasks.

Maynard learned that while Oman’s grandfather and father had been fishermen their whole lives, his great grandfather had also been a shaman. The leaping forward of two generations was no accident, but followed an ancient custom. If the tradition was ever violated, the power entrusted to the shaman would be lost forever.

When it came time to find the shaman’s successor his great grandsons would be called together for the ancient rite. They called it climbing a red mountain, and the one who survived their bloody trials would become the next shaman. Thirty years ago Oman had climbed the red mountain, and the ugly scars covering his entire body were his constant reminders.

CHAPTER 40

One morning a group of explorers accidentally discovered the island after a storm had blown them far off course. Since Maynard was the only white man on the island, the roguish crew of English seamen gravitated toward him for help, fearful of the company he kept and offering to take him with them as soon as they repaired their boat and replenished their lost supplies. They were shocked to find Maynard so content among the savages, that he preferred the loincloth and shell necklaces to the spare clothes they’d found on board for him.

The crew was only supposed to stay for a week after they made their vessel ready, but it soon turned into three weeks and then stretched to over a month. It was a welcome diversion from their hard life at sea and they didn’t want to leave. They made wine from the fruits and flowers they found growing abundantly up in the surrounding hills and fed nightly on wild boar. Many members of the tribe began to drink with them, and soon terrible fights were started, mostly over the women or imagined thefts of property.