The Attack of the Kisgar

  The Attack of the Kisgar

  The Secrets of Death Valley, Book 4

  Tom Hunter

  Copyright © 2019 by Tom Hunter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  One

  Amidst the controlled chaos of wires and grounded laptops, Alexia Fraga’s head peeked over the screens. The low hum of the generator offered a backbeat to the staccato tapping of her fingers on the computers’ keyboards. Each tap was a percussive harmony as she studied the pages and feeds before her. Her eyes roved the three screens in search of a clue. Where is Ramon hiding?

  Her intense focus blurred the light of day and dark of night. Time was suspended. The coffee she’d poured only a moment ago grew cold, and her eyes grew heavy from the strain and the desire to sleep. It was only then that she began to idly wonder what time it was.

  There was something wrong, which Alexia couldn’t quite place. The darkness of the drone’s feed should have been a clue.

  She reached carefully for her coffee, forgetting it had long grown cold. The tent flap swung open, startling her. “How’s it going?” asked Thomas Knight.

  In her haste to rise from her keyboards and greet Thomas, her feet tangled in the wires below her and her hands reflexively moved outward. She caught herself from tripping only to catch her coffee cup square as she aimed to steady herself with a flailing hand. Other cups were precariously placed too near the keyboards and wires.

  As Thomas entered the tent, his step quickened to save the nearest laptop from destruction.

  “Damn!” Alexia bounced back from the brown liquid just as Thomas scooped the machine from danger. “Thanks. Nice save!”

  She tilted her head to one side, catching the dark of night through the now open slit of the tent flap. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “You’ve had a rough few…days, and Abby will have your hide for not resting.” She wrinkled her forehead in her best imitation of Abby Hogan, and completed the look with hands on her hips for emphasis.

  “I could ask the same of you,” he retorted, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Smart ass.” Alexia’s mouth twitched, the spilled coffee now forgotten.

  A shadow crossed his face. Thomas placed the laptop he still held on a chair a safe distance away, then planted his palms on the table in the now empty space. “Seriously, Alexia. We’re worried about you. From what the others tell me you’ve been working straight through the night trying to locate Ramon…”

  Alexia shook her head as she did a double take. “I’m sorry. Did you say all night?”

  Thomas nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed in concern.

  Alexia sighed and rubbed her temples. “Mexico is one of those places that if you know the right people – and Ramon does – you can hide easily. People there keep to themselves, especially in cartel country. It’s safer, but here’s the thing. If we don’t find – if I don’t find – some way to track him down before he decides to leave the area, which he could also do easily, we’ll lose our chance to question him about Noah,” she finished softly as if talking to herself instead of the man in front of her.

  Thomas Knight held her gaze when she looked back up at him. He realized that she pushed herself professionally as he pushed himself. He also knew the perils of overwork, and he needed her to be at her best and most alert self when the team was all together. “You’re right. And, time is of the essence. Guess that’s my new mantra these days,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Alexia stared back at him stoically.

  “I understand what you’re saying. I do,” Alexia remarked. “But I can’t only think about myself when there is so much at stake: two states and an entire civilization? Everything we know is being threatened by Noah Ashbridge, his goons and cronies. And the asshole has Eknom’s Folly, the drum that rocked the world.”

  Two

  Alexia and Thomas stood facing off over the computers like tennis pros at a Grand Slam final. They weren’t fighting. It was simply serve and return as the minutes ticked by. Coming back around to Eknom’s Folly, Thomas was about to retort when he felt the echoes of tremors and quakes. He knew it had nothing to do with the fault line. This was the Kisgar; those creatures who had once been docile, and had now been awakened by the ancient drum. The tremors grew more intense as coffee sloshed across the tops of half-filled cups and papers rustled. Alexia and Thomas moved to steady themselves with both hands on the table.

  “As I was saying,” Thomas intoned when the tremors stopped, “perhaps the risk of Eknom’s Folly has been embellished over time, and isn’t is great as –" another, more violent tremor shook the earth beneath his feet. The rattling of computers, as they announced coming danger, made both he and Alexia stop to gather their precious cargo. There was too much at stake to let the laptops fall victim to the latent effects of Noah Ashbridge playing with the drum like it was some child’s toy.

  Alexia balanced two laptops precariously and looked straight at Thomas, her lips set in a thin line.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” retorted Thomas. “I hear ya,” he added, as he wondered just how much of a problem Noah could prove to be.

  “As long as he has the drum, he’s extremely dangerous.”

  Thomas frowned and set down the laptop again, slowly, as if he expected the earth to try to shake them off its back again. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Okay. How can I help?”

  With a sharp glance at his earnestness, Alexia sighed. She was exhausted and another set of eyes wouldn’t hurt. Besides, the company would be nice. “Thanks, I could use some help. I’ve hit a wall. Maybe you’ll see something I missed.”

  As she leaned forward, her palms pressing into the table, Thomas laid his hand on hers. “Listen, I know I can be all over the map. Most people don’t know which way will be up when I finish. But you’ve been there –” He shook his head. “Here, I mean. Almost since day zero.” He paused. “You looked like you were about to say no, but I’m glad you didn’t. I just wanted you to know, I get it. I really do. It’s about wanting, not needing, to be in control of something. And in this crazy, mixed up, very uncontrolled environment, we’ve stumbled into it, and the need grows stronger to hang on to our sanity.” Thomas brushed back a shock of hair that had fallen over his eye which gave him an even more roguish look.

  Alexia saw the intensity in his eyes, and felt herself pulled into the world of Thomas Knight. “You’re a part of this team and I count on you,” Thomas continued. “A lot. You’ve helped me in ways you’ll never know. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

  Alexia nodded, her eyes flitting from his hand to her computer screens. She didn’t move her hand away. For that, Thomas was glad. A second later, he felt a small tug as her hand slipped from his, back to the keyboard. Without fanfare, Alexia sat back down. The screens came back to life.

  “I…” she hesitated. Stopping and starting, she changed direction and said simply, “Thank you.” As she spoke, she motioned for Thomas to come to the other side so they could look at the screens together. She pointed to the drone feed. “I sent the drones…” her voice trailed off as her index finger met the screen and traced a circle around a flashing blue dot. “Here.” The circle grew wider and wider and Thomas wondered just how much of a radius they had to work with.

  “Ramon?” he asked, the rest of his question hanging unasked between them.

  Alexia nodded. “I believe so. I programmed the drones to begin patterns of an ever-increasing wid
er area in hopes we might catch a glimpse of his hideout or base or whatever. I’m fairly certain it’s somewhere in…here,” she finished, her finger slowed, then stopped, about the place she’d motioned a third ring.

  “I’m assuming Ramon and his goons will want to avoid border guards by taking a plane to Mexico. So, hopefully we’ll find something along the lines of a hidden airstrip or something.”

  Thomas frowned. “Why would he do that? It seems to me it would be more difficult to fly in…” his voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

  “Think about it, Thomas. With all the police presence on the ground because of the drug cartels, he can’t very well trot into Mexico with a truck full of weapons and archeological relics, can he?” she mused. “This is why I’m looking for a hidden airstrip. I mean, it’s not like the man exactly asks permission to do things.”

  Alexia tapped a finger to her mouth as another thought struck her.

  “Besides, with the Park Rangers coordinating with the border guards, he’d have to come up with some sort of evasive maneuvers to get to safe ground, right?” She tried to gauge Thomas Knight’s thoughts as his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Look, I know it’s a long shot, but it’s better than nothing,” she added.

  “True…” Thomas pulled his fingers through his beard as he mulled over the conversation briefly. “Okay, let’s do this.” Their heads bent over the map, Thomas and Alexia traced possible locations.

  Three

  Pinks, oranges, and golds of the sunset painted an ancient mirage on the sands while Noah Ashbridge sat on a rock. His face was a mask of thought and concentration. He sat easily, as if he were some rancher surveying his land. One leg stretched before him while the other was bent. He would have looked more at home dressed in denim, linen, and a hat to shade him from the sun.

  But, Noah was no rancher. The sweat which would have invaded anyone else’s clothes under the oppressive heat was missing. He was as cool and dry as if he was indoors. He basked in the breezy air of his camouflaged hideaway.

  Between his knees, rested his newest treasure: the drum. Eknom’s Folly. He stared into the distance, gazing at nothing. The desert view brought him tranquility and peace.

  The drum brought him comfort as the movie of his life to be played before him in his mind’s eye. The world would be his, and it would become his through ancient creatures not seen for a millennium.

  Miss Welker watched him. Noah was a living statue, yet she saw emotions dance across his face in a myriad of expressions. Some were expected; some were not. She was a little worried he might deviate from their plan, and had decided to remind him that he still had things to do before his plan could be realized.

  Miss Welker’s brows furrowed as she walked toward him, then stood beside him and waited. Noah didn’t move. She could barely see the imperceptible rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He seemed entranced by a vision of a future only he could see.

  She couldn’t put her finger on why she waited. It wasn’t her style. But something held her fast at Noah’s side. What it was, she wasn’t sure. She willed herself to find an answer. Was it for directions? Instructions? A look? Nothing came, so she, too, stared into the distance, straining to see and understand what had so captured Noah’s attention.

  When she could stand the stillness no more, she broke the silence. Her voice cracked against the glass of his vision. “Are you ready to go, Noah?” Miss Welker asked as she made to stand up. She wasn’t sure when she’d sat down, but it must have been a while ago. “It won’t be much longer before we reach the bunker.”

  Lost in thought, Noah mumbled something unintelligible. Then he turned to look at her, his eyes vacant of life. As he twisted his head toward her voice, he pulled the drum to him a little more closely. “Not yet,” he said slowly. “I need a little more time.” He hugged the ancient artifact as a child would hug a favorite toy.

  “For what?” she snapped. “You’ve hardly touched the thing and the longer we stick around here the closer Knight and his team might get. Right now, we’ve got an edge. He and his crew have no idea what our next course of action is, so we need to get moving while we can. What’s the holdup?”

  Noah ignored her and his head snapped back to the front, to once more stare off into the distance. His mind was elsewhere. He had plans bigger than she knew or realized. He could see his future. The icons of wealth held him fast: gold, power, and control. He was utterly captivated.

  “Hey! Snap out of it!” Miss Welker lay her hands on his shoulders.

  He swatted at her, his hand a loud thwack against hers. In reflex, she swatted him back, coupled with a resounding, “Noah Ashbridge!” exasperation and rage vying for attention in her voice. The sound jolted him out of his trance-like state. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked, his hand on hers, smoothing the newly flushed skin. It was a stupid question, he knew. She was his paid assassin.

  She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m fine. You could never hurt me, you silly little man.” His eyes grew dark at the jibe, and she smiled.

  Somewhere, over their years of working together, they’d developed a fondness for each other. Sometimes, they were just what the other needed for clarity, for camaraderie, and for company on chilly desert nights.

  “Listen,” Miss Welker began more softly. “I just need to know what you’re planning. If I don’t know what you want to do, I can’t help you.” She considered her next statement carefully, then added, “It’s an awkward feeling and I don’t like it.”

  He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Not if he hoped to realize his vision of the future. But there was a truth he couldn’t escape and that he saw no harm in sharing. Noah exhaled loudly and brought his shoulders to his ears. “In a nutshell, we’re in the red.”

  Miss Welker raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve been going over the accounts and running the numbers for the expedition. After all the payments to agencies, the payoffs, and the workers, we’re well into the negative,” he confessed. He caught her eyes with his and confirmed his truth with the intensity of his gaze.

  “I was so sure…” he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head forcefully. “I thought we’d find and match Reginald’s success.

  No, not just match, but exceed…” He knew she must already know what he would say next, but he kept on. “I put everything into this dig. Every…red…cent.” He held up the drum. “And if we can’t turn this drum into profit somehow, then there’s only one thing I’ll be sure to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Prove my father right,” Noah answered through gritted teeth.

  Miss Welker twisted her mouth, as if chewing on a thought. Her eyes darkened and narrowed. She needed someone to blame, and she knew Noah did too. She also knew just where to strike. “It’s all that bastard Ramon’s fault!”

  Noah nodded, only half listening, as he plunged onward, warming to his rationale. “I’d originally planned to sell the drum to the highest bidder, you see,” he explained. “I’d also thought about using it to organize a zoo of those strange creatures. But then I noticed something about the drum, and it gave me an idea. A terrible idea.” Noah grew silent as the idea took shape in his mind.

  “And?” she prompted.

  He looked her in the eyes, and then and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll explain the idea, but only after I demonstrate how I came to realize its potential.”

  Miss Welker raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side as if weighing her options of what to say or do next. She took a step back and motioned for Noah to conduct his demonstration. Noah smiled and adjusted his position so the drum was more evenly set between his knees. He began to beat the drum, slowly at first. His fervor increased, each beat another footstep toward his plan. His smile grew as the percussive notes reverberated and took shape.

  Four

  Robbie Blake held the phone to his ear. He wished he could call Annie. This was one of those times he missed his
wife more deeply than ever. It had felt odd coming on this expedition with his mother-in-law and not Annie. But she was lost to them as was her father, Albert Hogan. The Earth had swallowed them whole, and Abby and Robbie were doing the best they could to mend the pieces of their shattered lives.

  It was Annie who had instilled him the idea of archeology; the idea of digging into the past to learn about the future. Abigail and Albert Hogan were veterans of this world, and Albert had mentored Thomas Knight.

  Robbie’s initial obsession with the here and now via social media on his favorite platform, YouTube, had begun to fade and he’d long since put away his iPhone’s video app. There were more pressing issues now; those of life and death, the likes of which he barely understood and could not convey. It was at times like these he felt lost and wished Annie was with him. His secret conversations with her were now a part of his understanding of this new world in which he found himself. He knew Annie would have embraced it much the way Abby had embraced teaching Mochni and learned about his world.

  The voice on the line was a recording and as the pressures built up, Robbie began to pace. The tent wasn’t small, but his long strides made short work of his moving from one side to the other. He began to imagine what she’d say if she was really on the phone. He smiled as he played an imaginary tape of their conversation in his mind.

  Annie Hogan had been a duplicate of her mother, Abby. Both women bore an athletic trim, mid-length hair just a breath above their shoulder, cut bluntly for quick conversion into a pony tail, and the bearing of a nobility neither could put their finger on. Robbie had laughed and told her it was “money that breeds bearing.” He didn’t know where he’d heard the phrase, but it seemed to fit. Both women had laughed. Though the Hogans had money, they didn’t flaunt it. There was no need to. What they flaunted was their flair for adventure.