Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) by Anthony Strong (ebooks that read to you .TXT) 📕

“A fair point.” Decker considered his options. The only way to defeat the creature was to make sure it didn’t get ahold of the bag. If that happened, they would never put it to rest. It would roam through the ages, murdering with impunity. He didn’t have long to decide. He could hear the Baykok returning, the flap of its wings growing louder as it swooped down toward him. He dropped the pack from his shoulder and hefted it, ready to throw to Robyn. But just as he raised his arm, he felt a force like a freight train smashing to his back, sending him sprawling forward.

Decker hit the ground hard. The bag jolted from his grip. His flashlight smacked against a Rock and went out with a tinkle of glass. He discarded it, rolled over and sat up, scrambling backwards toward the bag, even as the Baykok landed on the trail with a thud and started toward him.

Decker reached out, averting his eyes from the creature’s hypnotic stare.

His hand curled around the bag’s strap.

“Look out.” Robyn screamed a frantic warning, too late.

The Baykok sprang forward with a shrill hiss, deadly talons extended.

Decker raised an arm in a feeble defense. He steeled himself for what was about to happen. A thought of Nancy flitted through his mind, and he felt a momentary pang of despair at the realization that he might never see her again. Then he heard a mighty roar, and his world exploded in blinding white light.

Chapter Sixty-Three

Decker shielded his eyes and squinted against the sudden onslaught of blazing light. The roar grew louder, and with it came a shower of gravel and dirt that rained down upon him. Decker twisted his head to avoid the worst of it, expecting to see the Baykok still dropping toward him with murderous intent. Instead, he saw a blur of tires, the twin beams from a pair of round headlights, and a hulking green shape that growled past at a clip.

Carlton’s World War II era Jeep.

And behind the wheel, his face crunched with concentration, the man himself. He was tugging at the steering wheel, sending the vehicle into a sideways skid that caught the Baykok in mid-air, crashing into it and driving the howling creature toward the edge of the trail.

Decker scrambled backwards to avoid the churning tires. He scooped up the bag containing Shilah’s remains and jumped to his feet in time to see the Jeep, with the creature still pinned to the hood, reach the edge of the trail, and take a nosedive into the canyon below.

“No.” Robyn rushed forward, a frantic scream on her lips. She shined her flashlight toward the precipice. “Carlton.”

“He’s gone,” Fowler said, now released from his fugue state and running to stop her getting too close to the edge. “We don’t have time for this. We’ll come back for the old man. Right now, we need to reach that grave.”

“He’s right,” Barnes agreed. “Carlton bought us the time we need, but the creature probably isn’t dead. It will be back.”

“We’re not far away,” Decker said, brushing himself off and glancing around for his flashlight. He was disappointed to find the lens smashed. Even if it wasn’t, the barrel was crushed where Carlton’s tire had rolled over it. He stepped past the broken light and went to Robyn, then took her arm. “You have to come with us. We can’t leave you here. It’s not safe.”

“We have to help him.” Robyn was desperate. “He sacrificed himself for us.”

“He did,” Decker said. “And it will all be for nothing if we don’t put Shilah’s remains back in the ground where they belong.”

“I guess you’re right,” Robyn said. She sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. “But we’ll come back as soon as we’ve taken care of this?”

“You have my word.” Decker met her gaze. “Carlton saved my life, and we’ll do what we can for him. But first we do this.”

“Okay.” Robyn turned and followed the three men as they hurried up the trail.

Decker glanced backwards, nervous. He was sure the Baykok was still out there, and it would now be in an even worse mood than before.

They reached a wide, flat area at the end of the trail, dotted with scraggy sagebrush. On one side the land rose steeply, scattered with boulders. On the other it dropped off into darkness. Decker could hear water running. The Colorado River, a long way below them.

Toward the back of the flat area, partly concealed by creosote bushes and the remains of a dead Joshua tree, Decker spotted a rough pile of rocks, almost imperceptible against the backdrop of mountainous terrain beyond.

“That must be the grave,” he said, pointing. “There’s nothing else here that fits the bill.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Fowler started toward the rocks. He pushed the bushes to one side and heaved the Joshua tree’s twisted carcass off the mound.

“Let me in,” Decker said, stepping forward. “Help me with the rocks. And give me some light. I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“Sure thing,” Barnes said, joining Decker.

Robyn trained her flashlight on the grave as the three men dropped to their knees and began pulling rocks aside. “Hurry,” she said, glancing skyward. “I think it’s coming back.”

And sure enough, Decker heard the steady drumbeat of wings high above, soon accompanied by the creature’s now familiar screech. He twisted around and looked up to see a dark shape flit in front of the moon. As suspected, Carlton’s Jeep had not kept the creature away for long. He turned back to the rock pile and continued with renewed urgency.

The beat of wings grew louder.

Robyn’s hand was shaking, the flashlight jumping. “If you’re going to finish this, now’s the time.”

“Almost there,” Decker said. He heaved another large rock sideways and underneath, pale and white in the flashlight’s beam, he saw bones.

“Get the remains out of the bag,” Barnes said, breathless. “Quickly.”

Decker twisted sideways and dragged the bag toward him. He unzipped it and