The Guardian Hills Saga by James Edwards

Author:James Edwards [Edwards, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: James Edwards
Published: 2020-04-06T22:00:00+00:00

13. Prelude to War

13.1 The Eye of the Storm

July 20th, 1945, 10:26 p.m.

The eye of a massive storm stalled over the Westcreek valley. Clouds rolled monstrously in from the west, muscling lesser ones to the side. From far above, it looked like a heavy shroud had been plopped atop an open coffin, and not even the moon and stars could penetrate. Their cumulative energy got drawn into the darkness. The valley became shadowy, heavy regarding barometric pressure, and hard to breathe in. Downtown, because of power failures, gas lanterns were set out on large nails outside store fronts, weary business owners hoping to stave off would-be robbers. At first playful winds swung each lantern from side to side in a gentle rhythm, metal rubbing on metal. Back and forth, they swayed. Back and forth. But as the winds became stronger, as they taunted the effort for light, many of the flickering flames extinguished or, within their glass canisters, crashed onto the boardwalk or bounced into the gravel road, sometimes in flames.

The air intensified even more. Forced downward by the clouds, the air bullied oak, maple, and willow trees scattered here and there across the valley floor—particularly in front of Steven’s home, making the already burnt willow appear like a frail cheerleader leading a reluctant rally. And if enough light had been available—had most of the Westcreek citizenry been awake and witness to the weather changes—each might’ve seen puffy, hawk-like talons or bony human limbs dip down from the eye of the storm and scratch at rooftops, punch at the sheriff’s office and town hall, and kick at streetlights and street signs.

From the east, a siren bellowed. Mounted on a tall pole, its manual crank was turned near the bottom in a clockwise fashion by a bombardier who once flew missions over Europe. The heavy drone rose and fell with the passion of a baritone opera singer becoming more and more angry. The mayor had just issued a severe thunderstorm warning, and the bombardier, through intense ratcheting of the handle, tried to convey an auditory message of seriousness.

Use of the siren would have consequences, though.

A skeletal cloud took form. Staring down directly above the bombardier, it pulled in nearby energy to add definition to its hollow eyes, broad cheekbones, and large teeth. At first, the face just watched the man, perhaps privately assessing his devotion to making such a racket; once assured of his determination, the face dove at the siren, mouth open wide, biting at both pole and man. Over and over, the skeleton did this—over and over as the bombardier ducked for cover.

Eventually the siren fell to a sick, low-level whine.

13.2 Wilbur “Will” Nelson

10:41 p.m.

Will heard the siren. Sitting on his porch in a rickety rocking chair and holding a double-barrel shotgun in his lap, he believed the sound was a warning that Natives had breached town limits and were going to loot his home. Internally he vowed that no Indian was going to step foot on his property. Stroking both barrels of his weapon affectionately, he watched for any sign of movement.

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