Without Luther, they wouldn’t have the Andara. And without the Andara, Mateo wouldn’t be alive. So maybe everything was working just like the Silver Lady had promised. Only it was taking so very long.
“Well, whatever they have in store for us”—Grandpa paused, thinking hard—“I no longer doubt we’re united by some otherworldly force. For a particular purpose. Which brings me to something that’s been nagging me.”
Uh-oh, here it is. Grump-pa had been extra grumpy all day. Twila held her breath and waited for the bad news.
“Dude, like what’s wrong?” Justin and his smirks. She finally realized he couldn’t help it. It was just the way his mouth was.
“Afraid to say much,” Grandpa whispered, “in the off chance the Ancient Ones are listening.”
Mindy carefully put baby Starla in the baby sling against her chest. “I’ll go into my strongest Merkaba trance. Just don’t say any names or visualize the place. Sometimes when they pry, they pierce my first Merkaba shield before I have a chance to repair the tear. But, now I use two Merkaba shields. I’m working on a third one, but I can’t hold onto it for long.”
So that’s how Mindy does it. I have to try two. Then three. Can I do four Merkabas? She had to be the very best at everything if she was going to go out there and heal humanity’s lost souls. Someday. Soon.
They waited for Mindy to slip away into meditation. When her head suddenly tilted to the side, she knew it was safe. “Okay, tell us,” Twila insisted, excited to know.
Grandpa continued when Mommy nodded it was safe to talk. “Well, there’s been a change in plan. My spirit guide—”
Justin rolled his eyes impolitely. “Dude, since when do you have a spirit guide?”
“Anyway—” Grandpa gave Justin the warning look. “Strange as it may sound, my granddaddy visits me on occasion. Used to think it was just nostalgia. But I’m starting to understand there’s more to it. Anyhow, he warned that those minions, as we call them, have caught on to us.”
“Oh no!” Twila cried out. Why hadn’t she felt them?
Ella stared at the twinkling, star-studded sky and shivered. “What if they’re out there—right now?” A tear sparkled down her cute, chubby chipmunk cheeks. Justin got all sweet and cuddly with her.
They all stared into the moonless sky. Waiting for Grandpa to tell them to go to their cabins and lock the doors. But she wasn’t ready for the fun to stop.
“Here’s the thing.” Grandpa played with the velvety coals, stalling. “I got a cryptic message to alter our route. Same destination, mind you. I keep seeing—”
Twila’s head pierced with pain. “Don’t say it! Don’t even think it!”
The metal trash cans next to the cabin fell over with a crash and rolled toward them. Justin and Luther jumped to their feet. Luther shot at the cans. Grandpa pointed his flashlight in time to see a sweet family of raccoons scamper into the darkness.
Mommy laughed to herself. “Just raccoons.”
Mindy’s eyes popped open in time to see Justin bending over, hands on knees, laughing. “D-d-dude, you should have seen your face—”
Uncle Luther’s wide eyes danced with firelight. “Something’s messing with my mojo.” He paced around the fire with his gun and kept looking back as if the raccoons might turn into monsters.
“Folks, think we outstayed our welcome. Let’s leave at first light. Please don’t think I’ve lost my mind when I take us on a roundabout route.”
“Dean, we all trust your judgment,” Mommy said in her sweet voice. “Or we wouldn’t still be together.”
“She’s right,” Luther added.
“Alrighty then.” Grandpa’s voice suddenly went gruff. “Time for some shut-eye.”
Mommy hurried her into the cabin while Grandpa and Uncle Luther shoveled dirt onto the campfire. It had been a fun two days at the cabins by the lake. But she saw it—evil tendrils poking at their collective protective bubble.
The Ancient Ones’ minions were close . . .
Chapter 36
Dean Wormer squinted into the horizon, the sun missing his eyes thanks to the straw cowboy hat Justin had bought him. They hadn’t made much headway. According to his guestimations, they only made two to three miles per hour, if that. The rough terrain, tending to the babies, and resting ate up their precious daylight. A compelling sense forewarned time was of the essence. It was as if he braced his feet against the narrow center of an hourglass, desperately trying not to slip through.
Perhaps his uptightness was due to the simple fact that summer came faster to the sparse deserts of New Mexico. They were well into May and needed to get to where they were going before the summer sun claimed them by way of heatstroke. He regretted his rash decision of avoiding the roads in lieu of the desert.
They had spent last night at an abandoned miner’s camp along the Pecos River, which they’d been attempting to cross to no avail. As luck would have it, this morning they had stumbled upon a defunct railroad line. The long-forgotten tracks may lead to an intact bridge. Not that he was lost; Dean knew roughly where they were based on the mountain ranges—his compass on this walkabout to—finding home.
Nonetheless, the rocky gorge looming ahead threatened a dead-end. And the foreboding train trestle wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. The gang wasn’t going to like it. Nor did he.
Standing at the edge of the timber trestle, Dean focused in with the binoculars, awestruck. The trestle must have been a magnificent feat in its day. It spanned the gorge in a scene right out of an old Western. Consumed with the breathtaking panoramic view, he could almost imagine smokestacks dissipating into the sky.
But is it crossable? He rubbed at his chin. Footsteps from behind told him the gang had caught up to his scouting run.
Justin parked the
