Page 48 of Deep Within Me

Her father turned away, refusing to listen.

Zeke, Jacob, and Kele had left the stronghold from a rarely used exit that allowed for foot rather than vehicle traffic.

A gust of wind whipped their garments and drove dust into their faces. Squinting, Zeke held his hand over his nose and mouth until the air settled. His brother and Kele did the same.

The sun beat down from a flawless sky, heating the ground to a point that it shimmered in the distance, creating a mirage that resembled a large pool of water. Bleached rocks and stunted vegetation disputed that notion. Plant life ran uninterrupted along the base of the mountain range. Some of the soil glittered from minerals within it.

Zeke turned then gestured for Jacob and Kele to follow.

They carried assault rifles and their two-way radios clipped to their jeans. It hadn’t been Zeke’s idea for Kele to join them. She’d insisted, wanting to prove her loyalty.

“It doesn’t matter if I die,”she’d said to him when he demanded she stay in the stronghold.

“It matters to me,”Jacob argued.“It matters to all of us. You’re being foolish.”

“I have to do this,”she said to him then spoke to Zeke.“I’m asking you to let me. Give me a chance to prove my loyalty.”

He hadn’t wanted to take the time to argue with her, so here they were, circling the area, coming upon the intruder from behind.

His vehicle was nowhere in sight, his attention on the ground. If he was an ordinary hiker, it might be that he was looking for some pretty rocks to take home with him. Could be he was a grad student, studying desert flora or insects and was in the desert to collect samples of each, storing them into his backpack that hung over one shoulder.

Of course, he might be studying the ground because he was searching for tire tracks that would lead him to the stronghold’s location. That wasn’t something Zeke had worried about until now. This area was so remote there were no roads or trails nearby. No hikers had ever come this far. No hikers had ever been in one of his visions.

Carefully, Zeke and the others approached. The wind was on their side, blowing in their faces, not delivering their scent or the sound of their footfalls to the intruder.

He focused on something to the right then moved toward it.

The white plume of a jet streaked across the sky. Closer to earth, birds flew past, perhaps on their way to the corpses of Carreon’s three lieutenants.

This man hunkered down and studied the soil. Past him, the wind had whipped up a dust devil that whirled for several moments only to blow itself out.

Perspiration coated the back of Zeke’s neck. A drop rolled down his spine. He held his breath.

Now.

He signaled to Jacob and Kele. They raised their assault rifles in concert with him. However, they’d promised not to fire unless Zeke gave the signal. No way was his vision going to play out with bullets striking this man in his belly and heart. Even if that happened somehow, Liz would never know. Zeke would see to it, not allowing her to reanimate this guy or anyone else.

“Show me your hands or you’re dead,” Zeke said.

The young man turned and stared at the three rifles pointed at him. He raised his hands as he pushed to his feet.

The wind pulled at his hair just as it had in Zeke’s vision. Dust coated his clothing as though he’d been out here awhile. Why?

“I mean you no harm,” he said.

Sure. “Drop your backpack.”

He did instantly. It landed on the ground with a muted whap, dirt scattering around it.

Zeke gestured to Jacob. His brother grabbed the rucksack. When he was a safe distance from the young man, Jacob opened the top flap and examined the contents.

“It’s just water and food,” the intruder said.

Jacob nodded. “He’s right.” Leaving the item, he went to the man. “Hands behind your head.”

Immediately, the intruder assumed the position. Jacob patted him down. He even checked his socks and shoes then stood. “No weapons.”

That should have been a good thing, but it didn’t ease Zeke’s tension. If this man was nothing more than a hiker or gradstudent, letting him go could prove problematic. Back home, he’d talk about being threatened by a group of people with weapons. He might interest the cops in why anyone was in this particular location. The authorities might believe drugs were involved and could possibly investigate.