sedona files - books one to three Page 31

  Again some sotto voce chattering, this time from everyone in the group except the two women whom Kara had already pegged as serious UFO believers. They gripped their binoculars and looked around them as if they expected a couple of grays to emerge from one of the manzanita bushes.

  “Michael?” she called out, and he nodded.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  They fell into line behind him, not questioning him taking the lead even though Kara was the tour operator. Funny how everyone expected the Native American to be the trailblazer. Kara knew her way around here pretty well, but if she had Michael along, she sure as hell was going to put him in the lead. He could probably be dropped into one of these canyons blindfolded and still find his way out without breaking a sweat.

  Lance took up the rear, one hand resting casually at his hip. She hoped to God he wasn’t carrying. Probably not — most likely such a stance was second nature to him, even if he was unarmed. Still, it unnerved her a little. Or maybe it was just having him directly behind her, watching as she negotiated her way over the rough ground. At least she wasn’t wearing shorts. One particularly hot night she’d tried that and came away with manzanita scratches all over her bare legs. Ever since she’d worn jeans and hiking boots when conducting these tours, no matter how warm it might be.

  The spot she usually chose for UFO watching out in Boynton was only about ten minutes off the road, so it wasn’t too long before Michael stopped on the little rise that was their destination. The other UFO tour operators knew this was Kara’s stake and didn’t intrude; there was certainly plenty of open ground around Sedona to choose from. True, not all of it was prime UFO-watching territory, but there weren’t so many of them that they had to worry about tripping over each other. Besides, she’d heard that Craig’s group was going up to Schneebly tonight, which was part of the reason she’d come out here.

  “Okay, everyone,” she said. “Eyes to the skies. If you see something, call it out so the others can have a chance to look in that quadrant. It’s usually better if you decide in advance which part of the sky you’re going to watch so there isn’t too much overlap.”

  A hurried convo among the participants followed these instructions, and then almost as one they strapped on the binoculars and swiveled their heads upward to view the heavens. Kara heard a few gasps and oohs and ahs. So many visitors to Sedona came from big cities, and they’d never before seen the glory of a desert sky at night.

  Even now she wasn’t completely jaded, but she didn’t need the binoculars to see the constellations, and in fact preferred to keep them off. It was easier to go to a particular client if necessary when she wasn’t encumbered with the night-vision lenses. She stood off to one side and watched as they pointed upward and chattered and compared notes.

  Something moved lazily overhead, a bright star she could see even with her naked eyes. Kara watched it for a few seconds, then realized Lance had come to stand next to her.

  “Space station?” he asked.

  “Think so. The time would be about right.” She kept her tone casual and tried not to think about how close he stood to her. His proximity probably had far more to do with not wanting to be overheard than because he was trying to create some sort of intimate moment. She knew better than that.

  “A couple more weeks, and it’ll be time for the Perseids,” he remarked.

  “Yeah, I know. I hate that.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “Oh, come on, Lance, you know what a pain those things are. Everyone thinks they’re seeing crashing UFOs. I should just close up shop that week and go to Vegas or something.”

  “Didn’t know you gambled.”

  “I don’t. I’m all about the buffets.”

  He actually halfway grinned at that, white teeth flashing in the darkness. It was nice to see him without his ubiquitous mirrored sunglasses, the ones that made him look like a cop even when wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Then again, that was probably the whole reason he wore them in the first place.

  Michael came up on the other side of them. “Nice group tonight.”

  “Yes,” Kara responded, glad of his presence. It was somehow a lot easier to stay focused when Michael was around. “I was sort of shocked that I actually got a full booking. Things have been kind of sparse the past few weeks. Apparently word’s gotten out that UFO watching this summer is not it’s all cracked up to be.”

  “Hmm.” His gaze was fixed eastward, where a few flickers of lightning showed above the ridge that marked the edge of the Mogollon Plateau. A short time later, thunder rumbled toward them, and Kara heard one of the college-age girls gasp out loud.

  “It’s miles off,” Kara called out to the group. “No worries. We might see some rain before dawn, though.”

  That was how it worked out here. The storms came rumbling in from the Gulf of Mexico, hot and laden with moisture. When the rain finally did come, it was cool and refreshing, if short-lived. A lot of people disliked the monsoon flow, and the latter part of the summer tended to be the slowest because of visitors trying to avoid it, but Kara had always enjoyed the turbulent weather. Something in the storm clouds and the sudden, jagged flashes of lightning called out to her. Then again, she loved Sedona in all its seasons, whether the red rocks were crowned with thunderheads in August or tipped with snow in January.

  “Hey!” one of the boys called out. Travis, she thought his name was, though she couldn’t remember for sure. “What’s that?”

  Nine other heads swiveled upward to where he was pointing. Kara followed his gesture as well, although she didn’t really expect to see anything besides a low-flying plane. You got those out here, even at night; Sedona’s airport closed at dusk, but Prescott and Flagstaff weren’t that far off, and they had much longer hours of operation at their airports.

  But the object skimming the ridgeline to the west didn’t look like an airplane, or a helicopter. She’d seen that shape before, just once — only then the enormous triangular craft had shot almost directly upward at a speed no human-built craft could manage. This one, though, kept dropping lower, heading straight toward them like an old-style fighter plane coming in for a strafing run. A beam of white light shot out from underneath, illuminating a narrow band of scrub brush to almost daytime brightness.

  “Take off your binoculars!” Lance shouted, bolting past her toward the group of sky-watchers, who didn’t have even enough time to become frightened, judging by their general air of confusion. “Down! Everybody down!”

  Kara had never heard that note of command in his voice before, but even the boisterous college students recognized it for what it was and dropped to the dirt. The ship moved closer, and now she could feel the hair on her arms and along the back of her neck prickling, smell the tang of electricity in the air.

  …that sensation you get during a thunderstorm when lightning’s about to strike. Like a smell of ozone…

  Persphone’s words rang in Kara’s mind, and she wondered if that was what the psychic had meant.

  Lance’s voice cracked like a whip. “Kara!”

  She knew she should be moving, should be scuttling in the dirt along with the rest of the group, all of whom had taken shelter beside a nearby clump of manzanita. Something seemed to hold her in place, though, kept her boots rooted to the ground as if the sandy soil had become magnetized. Her reply got stuck in her throat, like those times when she’d awakened with night terrors, trying to scream but finding no air to fuel her cries.

  The beam of light moved closer. She knew it would be on her next, burning her with its white heat.

  Must move…

  But still her muscles wouldn’t obey her brain’s commands. The sand sent up little wisps of steam into the night air as the light traced its way to her. Was she the aliens’ target, or only collateral damage of some kind of probe?

  Something hard hit her, forcing her to the ground, pushing her out of the path of the light beam. It was only after a dazed second that she realized it was Lance who ha
d landed on her, who was sheltering her with his body. Past his shoulder she saw something dark standing between her and Lance and the aliens’ beam, a tall shape that raised its arms as if warding off the probe.

  Michael. It sounded as if he was chanting something, but between the earth-shaking hum emanating from the ship and the shrieks from the tour group, she couldn’t tell hear what he was saying. She wanted to scream at him to run, to move out of the way of the beam, but still her voice felt strangled in her throat…or maybe Lance had knocked the wind out of her when he pushed her out of harm’s way.

  For a few seconds the ship didn’t move. It hovered a hundred feet off the ground, beam stationary, as Michael stared up at it, arms still outstretched, the low monotone of his chant a counterpoint to the throbbing drone of the enormous vessel’s engines. Then the beam disappeared and the ship shot almost directly upward, disappearing into the night sky.

  For a long while no one moved. Finally Kara felt Lance shift off her and climb to his feet. He brushed at the dusty knees of his jeans and shot an incongruous smile at the group of terrified tourists.

  “Well, kids, looks like you just had your first close encounter.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lance insisted on driving her home. Just as well, because her hands still shook so much she didn’t know if she could have even inserted the key in the ignition, let alone maneuvered the van back onto the road and down to town. He’d given his own keys to Michael so he could drive the Jeep. The tourists, shaken and quiet, had piled into the back of the van with such alacrity that Kara almost smiled. Obviously they were more than ready to get the hell out of Boynton Canyon.

  At least no one even mentioned a refund. She had the thought in the back of her mind — in the part of her brain that didn’t feel like scrambled eggs, that is — that one of them might ask for their money back, since the tour had barely lasted ten minutes. However, everyone seemed to be sufficiently freaked out that they only hurried to their cars once the van pulled into the UFO Depot’s parking lot. Probably most of them were headed out to get a good stiff drink.

  God knows she needed one.

  She wished she could have asked Michael exactly what the hell he had done to drive off the UFO, but that would have to wait for later. At the moment her biggest problem was making sure Lance dropped her off and didn’t try to loiter around the house, making sure she was all right. She had the feeling she’d completely melt down if she had to attempt explaining Grayson to Lance right now.

  He was grimly quiet as he piloted the van down 89A and headed into the quiet residential neighborhood north of the highway where her house was located. They pulled into the driveway, and he shut off the headlights before killing the engine and pulling the key from the ignition.

  “Thanks, Lance,” she said. She’d managed to sound almost normal, though she wasn’t quite sure how. “You can take the van. If you drop it off at the shop tomorrow morning, I’ll drive you home — ”

  “What the hell are you going on about? You think I’m just going to drop you here after what happened?”

  “Well, yeah. Everything’s okay now, so — ”

  “Everything is not okay. You think they won’t come back? You think I didn’t see how they were headed straight for you?”

  “That was probably just a coincidence.”

  “Coincidence? Nothing with these bastards is a coincidence, and you know that!”

  Kara knotted her hands in her lap and forced herself not to raise her voice as she replied, “Okay, fine, but you know as well as I do that you can’t stop them if they really want to come after you.”

  “Michael did,” Lance said, his tone flat.

  “Yes, all right. But I sure don’t know what trick he used, and I’m guessing you don’t, either. So I really don’t see the point in you staying here and being my babysitter.”

  “Let’s go.” Lance opened the door and got out, so Kara had no choice but to do the same and then wait as he locked the door and came around the back of the van to meet her. “I’m not going to argue with you, Kara.”

  “What, are you going to pick me up and throw me over your shoulder so you can carry me into the house or something?”

  “If I have to.”

  And he had the balls to do precisely that, if she continued to cross him. Scowling, she stalked past him and up the front walk, mentally rehearsing a litany of plausible lies about Grayson. He’s my cousin from San Francisco…he’s my college roommate’s brother…he’s a member of the Phoenix MUFON group and needed crash space…

  Anything except, Oh, he’s this stranger who almost dropped dead in my living room after wandering around in the desert for God knows how long. And by the way, his memory is shot, but I have a sneaking suspicion he’s connected somehow to a secret government test program.

  “The light in your garage is on.”

  Startled, she looked past Lance to see a thin outline of yellow light marking the edges of the garage door. It had to be Grayson, but she didn’t want to admit that to Lance. No sign of Gort, either, which meant the dog was out in the garage as well. Thank God she usually put Gort outside when she had male company, so Lance probably wasn’t in the habit of looking for the dog. “I must’ve left the light on when I was out there doing laundry.”

  He apparently found the explanation plausible, because he shrugged and followed her up the walk to the front door. She turned the key in the lock, praying that Grayson wouldn’t be sprawled out on the living room couch watching some embarrassing chick flick on the DVR or wandering around in his underwear.

  Silence greeted her, and she sucked in a little breath as she went on inside, Lance a pace or two behind. The lights were on, and the air conditioning hummed away in the background, but other than that there were no obvious signs of anyone being anywhere around. So Grayson must be out in the garage. She could only hope whatever was occupying him would keep him out there until she could get rid of Lance.

  “See?” she said, after she dropped her purse on the dining room table. “All’s quiet. Just go home and get some rest.”

  He ignored her and went on into the kitchen. Thank God Grayson was such a neatnik. She’d left takeout for him to heat up for dinner in her absence, but the counters were spotless, the dishes hidden inside the dishwasher.

  “I’ve got some leftover Indian food in the fridge if you’re hungry,” she suggested.

  “I’m not hungry.” In the fluorescent light his eyes looked almost like molten silver, and far too sharp. “You always leave the air on like this when you go out?”

  “I was in a hurry. Normally I turn up the thermostat before I leave. What, are you the conservation police now?”

  “No. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Of course it doesn’t feel right,” she snapped. “We almost got strafed by a UFO tonight. So if you want to go look under my bed for little gray men, feel free, but I doubt they’re hiding in the fridge.”

  For a minute he didn’t say anything, but only surveyed the kitchen with that gray laser-beam stare. “Kara, what aren’t you telling me?”

  Over the years she’d wondered exactly how psychic Lance really was. He always denied it. However, she didn’t see how someone could be in the army’s remote-viewing project and not have at least some latent abilities. She had to hope to hell he wasn’t reading her mind now, but instead interpreting some wordless tell that betrayed her without her knowing it.

  “I’m not not telling you anything, Lance. Well, okay, besides the fact that I’m tired and want a long soak in the bathtub. I’ll just have to hope the aliens don’t want to jump in and play with my rubber duck.”

  His gaze flickered at the mention of the bath, although he didn’t say anything at first. Finally he stalked out of the kitchen and through the living room, then down the hall. She found herself holding her breath as he peered into Kiki’s old room. All it would take was one sock left in the middle of the floor, one abandoned flip-flop, and she’d find herself having to
invent explanations she really didn’t want to make.

  But here again there was no visible sign of Grayson’s presence, and after doing a quick survey of the office, the bathroom, and Kara’s room, Lance seemed almost satisfied.

  “Not going to look under the bed?” she inquired, after he’d completed his sweep and headed back into the living room.

  “It looks clear.”

  “It is clear.”

  Still he stood there, looking oddly irresolute for Lance. She tried not to recall how it had felt to have the weight of his body against hers, the heat of his breath on her neck as he shielded her from the aliens. It was the closest physically they’d ever been. He’d only done it to protect her, though. Maybe in the movies such contact would lead to other things, but Kara knew better than to hope for such an outcome here.

  “If I notice anything strange, I’ll call. I promise.”

  “I might not get here fast enough.”

  “Isn’t that a risk I’ve taken ever since I got mixed up with you guys?”

  It was only the simple truth, but before now she’d never had the guts to say such a thing out loud. For the first year she’d run the shop, she’d thought of it as a harmless enough endeavor, the legacy of a beloved grandfather who had a fascination with UFOs. She hadn’t believed in any of it until Michael Lightfoot approached her one night, spoke to her gravely about the the real situation in the depths of Secret Canyon…took her to see the orbs, and then the mysterious lights in the sky. From then on she’d been a believer, had used the shop as the nexus of the underground UFO activity that swirled around Sedona and through the greater desert Southwest.

  Lance’s mouth tightened. “Maybe it is. But it sure seems a hell of a lot worse now.”

  “Then we’re all facing it. And unless you’re suggesting that we all bunk down together someplace, present a united front, I’m guessing the best thing to do is just keep calm and carry on.”