Torrent (10 page)

Yes, I’d meant to spend more time researching the L.A. connection, and I
had
pulled up a few stories, but those words I’d heard Jakatra and Eleriss speak had kept repeating in my mind. I’d played with countless spelling possibilities, plugging each into the search engine, but I hadn’t found anything useful. Not all that surprising if the language wasn’t based off the Latin alphabet.

“I promise I’ll research your monster,” I said, “but we’re not tracking down anything that can rip our heads off, no matter what I find on it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Simon said. “But the riders are a different matter, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to know about them and their language.”

“Yes…”

“So, you’d want a sample if you could get it?” he asked.

“If I could figure out what language they were speaking, I’d have a better shot at finding information on that object in their room.”

“That was a yes, right?”

“Yes.” I wondered why he was pursuing this so relentlessly.

“You get all the details on L.A., and I’ll see if I can figure out a way to get you that sample.” Simon smiled and strolled away.

I had a feeling I should find his parting words, or perhaps his motivations, suspicious.

A busboy cleared his plate, and I set to work, digging deeper into the California incidents. I was so engrossed in the research that I didn’t notice Temi until she tapped me on the shoulder sometime later.

“I’m here for my introduction to estate sales,” she said, though her raised eyebrows implied she doubted we’d be doing that today.

“I’m guessing most of those will be canceled.”

Temi sat down, placing a number on the edge of the table. “The streets are empty of pedestrians, and even the auto traffic is scarce. Are you going to tell me what’s going on from your side of things? I’ve seen the CNN and local news version.”

“Simon and I were up in the mountains yesterday morning, treasure hunting, basically. He’s working on a program that uses 3D mapping technology, some historical databases I pointed out to him, and a bunch of stuff I don’t understand very well to create a geographic information system. It helps you hunt for long-forgotten and sometimes buried ‘rusty gold’ as they say in the biz. It’s similar to the technology people are using to find old shipwrecks on the bottom of the ocean. I go along to dig up what we find, I point out if it has any historic or financial value, and, if so, we drag it out and sell it. My job is also to choose likely spots for his software to search by rummaging through historical records and old maps to find out where there used to be settlements, permanent or temporary. We’ve only been doing this for a few months, but we’ve already found some fascinating sites, including previously undiscovered Anasazi ruins.”

At some point during my ramble, the server had brought over an omelet and orange juice for Temi, and she was digging in. I was taking the roundabout way to answer her question, but she didn’t look bored. “I knew this would be more interesting than working at a fast food place,” she said between bites.

“Hah, more interesting, but not exactly more lucrative, at least not yet. That’s why I’m working the estate sales too.”

“You didn’t find anything valuable at the Anasazi site?”

“Oh, there’s probably some good stuff there, but we didn’t do much digging before I called an archaeologist at the Department of Natural Resources. That was a mistake, because the bastard took all the credit for finding the site. They ran a multi-page article on it and
him
in
Archaeology Magazine
.” I waved a hand. “Not that I’m bitter or anything.”

“Why’d you tell him about it to start with?” Temi asked.

“The site was on state land.”

Her brow furrowed. “Isn’t
all
of the land you’d search on either state or privately owned?”

“Essentially, yes. To be honest, this part of our enterprise is a little… morally ambiguous. We’ve argued over whether Simon should make the software available to anyone or just sell it to universities when we’ve worked out the bugs. We might be assisting… the wrong sorts of people if we made it publicly available.”

The crinkle in Temi’s brow hadn’t smoothed.

“You see,” I went on, “archaeologists frown upon people who make money by finding things and selling them on the antiquities black market. Ideally, historically significant sites should be carefully researched for what they can tell us about past peoples, and artifacts should be turned over to museums. That’s why Simon and I stay away from Native American ruins for the most part. It’s
awesome
to be the first to find something, but we’re not going to make money on any of it because we’ll always feel obligated to inform the authorities about the finds. Though I’ll be damned before I call that guy at the DNR again.” I grumbled under my breath.

“So what
are
you making money on?” Temi asked.

“As it turns out, people get less huffy about proclaiming the historical significance of stuff white people left lying around a hundred years ago. A lot of what we locate falls into the category of most people’s junk and one man’s treasure. Lately we’ve been finding and selling old mining equipment. I kid you not, we recently auctioned a big claw bucket from a steam shovel for over a thousand bucks on eBay. Fortunately, the highest bidder was someone who lived in the state, and we didn’t have to figure out how to ship it.”

Temi’s eyebrows drew together. “Who would want such a thing?”

“I don’t know if we can thank the steampunk movement or what, but a lot of people are decorating with relics from the Industrial Revolution era these days. Some of these items
do
look pretty cool.” Though I’d been surprised when the bucket sold. Simon had argued for that one. I’d been ready to leave it, thanks to its massive weight, but he’d engineered a system to get it onto a trailer, and we’d hauled it off the abandoned mining claim. “They’re not all big items. We sold some old gold pans and pick heads to a bar owner over on Whiskey Row—” I waved in the direction of the street, “—right when we got into town. He thought they’d make good wall decorations.”

Temi had finished her omelet and pushed the plate away. “All right, now I get what your business does, but I don’t get why you were up on the mountainside hunting monsters.”

“Monsters? Is that what the newspaper is saying?”

“The television news. A boy from the White Spar campground was filmed saying monsters had eaten his parents.”

“Oh, man, I can’t believe the reporters pestered that poor kid,” I said.

“The police and reporters are calling it a bear attack, but the survivors they interviewed all said that what they glimpsed wasn’t any bear. Someone said it had to be the same creature that killed all those people in L.A.”

I nodded, having caught up with the news from over there now. Neither Simon nor I was the type to watch much television or spend a lot of time perusing headlines on the web, so we’d missed the excitement. The first mauled body had appeared at El Matador Beach outside of L.A. ten days earlier. There’d been several more deaths in the city, with each cluster of attacks occurring farther east, until the last two had shown up in San Bernardino. After that, things had quieted down, until five days ago when there’d been two more groups of slayings near La Paz County Park. In all of the cases, nobody had managed to get a picture of the culprit, because it always attacked at night. The official reports had blamed bears, though some of the deaths had been as grisly as the decapitated man in that mine shaft. Our tunnel incident seemed to be the only killing that hadn’t happened at night, though a dark mine probably didn’t qualify as a daylight attack.

“As for what we were doing up there hunting monsters… we weren’t. We were looking for some more valuable mining goodies. We heard a scream ahead of us, checked it out, and found the dead guy.” I wondered if I should confess to fleeing the mine, certain something was about to leap out of the dark and eat us. Nah, it was bad enough Simon had already witnessed me being treed by my imagination.

“You heard screams and you
checked it out
?” Temi asked. “Isn’t that how all those pretty girls get killed in horror movies?”

“I’m not that pretty, so I didn’t think that paradigm would apply to me.”

Temi didn’t call me stupid—in fact, all she said was, “Hm”—but the notion seemed to hang in the air.

“We thought it was some fellow explorer who’d managed to fall and hurt himself. Which I suppose technically happened. You do tend to fall after your head has been ripped off.”

Temi frowned. “Is joking really appropriate here?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not, but searching for sarcastic things to say is a great way to avoid thinking too much about the horror of what actually happened. That leads to weeping, hysterics, and group hugs. I find all of those activities counterproductive.” I’d never been good at sharing my emotions with others. I wasn’t sure if it came from having a pile of older brothers who’d teased and tormented me as a kid, or if it was some genetic quirk. The rest of the family went the other way—my older sister had a knack for sharing emotions with theatric intensity… and volume. Me? I’d always found sarcasm and jokes safer things to share. People have a hard time seeing through them and can’t pick on you effectively if you don’t have obvious buttons to push.

“So it was luck that you stumbled across the monster,” Temi mused, “and luck that brought it to your camp last night.”

“As far as I know.” Since Simon had ridiculed me for thinking we had something that might be drawing the creature, I didn’t bring up the theory again. It seemed even more unlikely now that I knew the whatever-it-was had come from out of state. Surely we didn’t have anything
that
intriguing in the back of the van.

“Where do the Harley riders come in?”

“They were at both spots too. And both times, they showed up after the creature had killed someone.” I felt silly saying creature over and over, but I didn’t know what else to call this mystery being. It wasn’t a bear, no matter what the newspapers said, and I wasn’t ready to add
jibtab
to my daily vocabulary yet. I’d filled Simon in on Eleriss and our strange conversation, but using such terms would draw confused looks from the general population.

“What is the plan now?” Temi asked.

“I’ve been instructed by the police to avoid monster hunting. It’s also been suggested by multiple parties that I might want to get out of town. Or out of state.” I thought of Eleriss’s proclamation that Alaska would be a suitable destination. I wish I remembered
more
of that conversation. He’d said something about finding “that which can destroy” the creature. Some super powerful tool or weapon? Located in Prescott? That seemed about as likely as a week passing without our van needing one repair or another, but it wouldn’t take much to convince me to run off into the woods after some unique relic from a bygone era.

“Will you heed either of those suggestions?” Temi had known me at a time when I would have ignored any advice to stay out of trouble, but I’d grown up since then, at least a little.

“Believe it or not, I probably will. I’m insanely curious about those riders and their strange language, but we need to focus on our business and on activities that pay the bills. You know, grownup stuff.”

“Wise.”

To Temi’s credit, she didn’t sound shocked or disappointed by my choice. I guess she’d grown up a little too.

My phone flashed a text message alert. Simon.

Van is fixed. Ready to roll? I have an idea.

I must have frowned because Temi asked, “What is it?” in a concerned tone of voice.

I showed her the message.

“An idea? What does that mean?” she asked.

“Nothing related to grownup stuff, I bet.”

CHAPTER 10

S
imon ordered a burger from the bored man cleaning glasses at the bar—business still hadn’t picked up—then veered over to join us. He dragged over another chair, and I pushed my laptop to the side. We could have moved to a bigger table, but he didn’t suggest leaving the sacred outlet. Also, he’d been bouncing from foot-to-foot while he placed his order, so I knew he was impatient to share his news. He gave Temi a nervous glance though, apparently remembering his shyness around girls now that we weren’t busy chasing motorcycles.

“What’s your idea?” I asked him. “And how much will it cost?”

“Nothing.” He focused on me and grinned. “It’s already been implemented.”

“Irrevocably?”

Somehow Simon managed to shoot me a dirty look without losing the grin. “No. Do you remember those collars I made for your uncle this summer?”

“The GPS tracking collars for his hunting dogs? I mostly remember you cussing out Taos because you couldn’t find a decent electronics store.”

“Yes, I made that app and a few trial devices before I had two that were sturdy enough to stay on a pointer hurling itself around in the brush. I still have those prototypes in the van, or
had
rather.”

I glanced at Temi and lowered my voice. “You didn’t… put the collars
on
someone, did you?” I imagined some homeless fellow sleeping on a bench under a newspaper with a dog chain around his neck before it occurred to me to wonder why Simon wanted to track someone anyway.

“No, of course not. But I took the trackers off and taped
them
on something.”

“On what?” Temi asked, her chin propped in one hand. She seemed to find this admission of clandestine detective work amusing rather than alarming. If she started working with us, she’d learn better soon enough.

“It’s more of an
in
really.”

“
Simon
,” I whispered in exasperation.

“The tailpipes of a couple of Harleys.” He pulled out his phone and opened an app. A map of Prescott came up.

I leaned back in my chair, trying to decide if I was horrified or intrigued. Or both.

“Why do you want to track them?” Temi asked.

“Del said they’re trying to find some tool or weapon to kill that monster. If it’s something old that they’re prying out of the earth, I’m sure she’ll be interested. She also wants a sample of their language. If they don’t know we’re around, I’m sure they’ll speak freely.” He held up his phone, which happened to be opened to a voice recording application.