Into the Storm by D. J. Adamson

Author:D. J. Adamson [Adamson, D. J. & Adamson, D. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-19T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The man glanced back as if trying to determine whether to be approached by Noah or return from where he had come.

He was lean and tall and walked with a slight catch in his step. His skin, darkened and dry, weathered, gave the appearance he spent a significant amount of time outside. A receding hairline broadened his forehead. And what was left of his coarse black hair, he’d tied in a long tail down his back.

He was wearing jeans, old and white-washed with wear, with a large rip on his left knee. The mud that obscured his sneakers’ whiteness matched the splatter on his clothes.

This was not Bill.

The man took a long-steadied study of him. “You the cops?”

Noah shook his head. “Not a member of the local police,” he said truthfully. “I’m looking for two boys. You haven’t seen them, have you? Jake Cahill, Bill Cahill’s son, and his friend Oliver Pitts.”

“Haven’t seen anyone but cops,” the man responded.

His neck showed a tattoo of an eagle’s body designed out of a squared hourglass, with lightning strikes overhead and two lines separated by black dots. His dirty plaid shirt, unbuttoned due to the heat, exposed another large, squared-hourglass eagle tattooed on his chest.

The man sucked the inside of his cheek. He turned his head and spit. “You’re one of them, ain’t you? I can tell by the eyes.” He wiped away a spit of yellow from his lips.

“I told you, I’m not with the police. The boys have been missing since last night. In this weather, we must find them.”

“Can’t find what doesn’t want to be found,” the man said.

He reeked of cannabis.

“I don’t understand,” Noah said. “Then you have seen them?”

The man didn’t answer. Noah tried again. “There is a house from the way you’ve come. It recently caught on fire. Do you know anything about it? Do you know Bill Cahill? He may have been in the fire.”

The man twisted his face in disgust. “Sica.”

“Sica?” Noah repeated, hearing the word pronounced see-chah. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Evil.” The man leaned toward Noah. His face darkened. “The end times are comin’, brother. But not for us. We’ve got a ’ways to go. And not all of us are worthy of following.”

“Where are we going?” Noah asked curiously.

“Home. Wankantanka.” The man turned to leave.

Noah called out to stop him. “Look, if you know anything, if you have seen anything, we could use your help.”

The man crossed his arms over his chest, steadied his legs shoulder-width apart. “I am Chatan, son of Max. I am Lakota.”

To Bill, Chatan looked more northern European than American Indian. “Nice to meet you, Chatan. Look, again, if you see two boys, please let the local authorities know.” Then, figuring the guy spent a good amount of time up in the woods, he might be aware of unmarked areas. Those places not generally public. “Have you heard about a place called Eagle’s Nest here in the park? Do you know where that might be?”

“Eagles,” the guy repeated.

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