The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

been a look of resolve on the man’s face instantly contorted to agony and shock as he collapsed to the floor.

Ulrich’s voice became louder, more commanding. “Tell me where the chamber is, and I will end your misery!”

The man said nothing, he just grasped his leg, trying to slow the bleeding from the bullet wound.

“Say it!” Ulrich yelled again. He aimed the weapon at the other knee and pulled the trigger again.

The kneecap erupted in a splash of blood and bone. Still, the man did not cry out, though his face betrayed a new surge of pain as he clenched his jaw tighter.

A small pool of red liquid was forming around where he was propped on the floor.

All Tommy could do was watch in horror, helpless to do anything, wrapped in the arms of the two guards. “Are you crazy? Stop it! We need him!” he screamed.

The blond’s eyes turned for a moment to Tommy before another shot resonated through the building. This bullet went through the ranger’s shoulder, directly into the joint. Blood trickled from the wound down the tan sleeve of the man’s uniform.

Both of the guards looked visibly uneasy as they watched from a few feet away. They were busily looking around to make sure no one else was going to enter the room, paranoia on their faces.

Ulrich squatted down and put his nose close to the grimacing face of the Indian and pressed the gun against the man’s temple. “Tell me where the chamber is, and I will end all of this for you right now. This is your last chance.”

The agony on the ranger’s face turned once again to a look of defiance. “I am already dead,” he spat through gritted teeth. “My ancestors await me. And you shall never have the treasure you seek. My purpose is fulfilled.”

“Have it your way then,” the gun lowered to the ranger’s abdomen. Another pop burst through the silence.

Bloody hands first grasped at the arms of the European jacket of the man that had certainly ended his life. Then, releasing the sleeves, he reached down with his hands and felt the warm, thick liquid seeping from the bullet hole in his stomach. His voice came in a gasp now, “The chamber will not be found.”

A moment passed, and the Indian just lay there silently, looking at the ceiling with his hands on his belly, covered in the oozing crimson.

“Nooo!” Tommy yelled. Adrenaline took over as he broke the grasp of the guards and rushed toward the kneeling Ulrich.

The move seemed to catch the killer off guard for a moment as the crazed prisoner’s shoulder plowed squarely into the man’s right arm, jarring the gun from his hand. It clacked onto the hard carpet floor and tumbled a few feet away. Startled into action, the two guards pried the wildly swinging Tommy off of the blond before he could strike back.

One of the flattops bear hugged him into submission while the shorter one proceeded to punch him viciously in the midsection. Tommy lost his breath, and his body’s natural reaction was to double over, but with the far stronger arms holding him up, his body couldn’t reach the position it desired for relief. Another fist slammed into his jaw, causing the world to spin recklessly out of control. The guard released his grip, and unconsciousness teased him for a moment as he lay sprawled out on the floor.

Ulrich had recovered from the attack and was now standing over him. Through his captor’s legs, he could see the huddled mass of the park ranger leaning against the wall. The man’s chest still moved up and down, but a considerable pool of blood was collecting around his body. He held something in his right hand, unseen by the attackers. It looked like a cell phone.

“That was an unwise move, Thomas.” Ulrich said, still standing over Tommy. “Why should I not do to you the same as I did to him?” His arm gestured carelessly toward the heaped Indian in the corner.

Tommy coughed, his breath returning. A thin line of blood streamed from his lip as he rose to his knees. He wiped the blood with the top of his hand. “You know why. I’m the only one that can help you find the chambers.” Another cough racked his body and kept him on one knee.

During the punching session, Ulrich had recovered the gun from the floor and was now holding it level with Tommy’s chest. “For now, Thomas, for now.” He glanced over at the bloody mass by the doors. “Let’s move.”

Ulrich stopped by the body on the floor and turned around. “We will go to the church. Perhaps we will find a clue there.”

“Maybe we should look some more here,” Tommy tried to stall, hoping the Indian had got through to the police on the phone.

“And wait around for the authorities to find us? I don’t think so. Move.” He flicked the gun toward the door in a commanding motion.

Standing at the exit, Ulrich poked his head out to make sure the path was clear. No one stood in the lobby. The only movement in the open room was the slow revolution of a ceiling fan that hung from the exposed wooden ceiling. They slipped out of the doorway, careful to make sure there were no other visitors to the museum that might suddenly pop out of a restroom or some other area. The last thing they needed at this point was to be careless.

43

Blue Ridge Mountains

“I got nothin’ over here,” Will stood, looking at the caged rocks with a beleaguered look on his face.

Fifteen feet away, Morris, too, was deeply studying the soapstone paintings, unsure at what he was looking and