Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) Anthony Strong (popular romance novels .TXT) 📖

“Bah. You’re going to be the ruin of me.” Carlton waved a dismissive hand and turned his back, then disappeared into the barroom, no doubt to find himself a glass of whiskey.

Robyn rubbed her temples, behind which a tension headache was throbbing, and walked back out onto the veranda. This time when she looked down the road, she spotted a white quad cab truck, leaving in its wake a billowing trail of dust. The geologists had finally arrived.

Chapter Two

William Fenton, who more often than not just went by the simpler name of Bill, brought the quad cab to a halt in front of a ramshackle looking three-story building that was by far the largest structure in the old ghost town known as Haley. Sitting next to him in the passenger seat was Corey McDaniel. Carlos Philippe, the third member of the team, occupied the quad cab’s rear bench. He had been playing with his phone since they left Las Vegas, but now looked up and peered through the side window.

“What a crap hole,” he said, letting his eyes wander across the row of dilapidated buildings that would have long ago disintegrated into piles of rotten lumber if it weren’t for the sporadic upkeep of the landowners. As it was, several of them looked like they were about to give up the ghost. All except the one in front of them. Its state of restoration stood in stark contrast to its surroundings. His gaze fell upon a slim, attractive woman in her early thirties who was standing hands on hips upon the wraparound porch staring at them. She did not look happy. “Why would anyone want to come and stay out here in this godforsaken wilderness?”

“You’d be surprised.” Fenton turned the engine off and opened his door. “City folk will pay big money to feel like they’re roughing it. Living the pioneer life for a few days.”

“Yeah. Just so long as they’ve still got comfortable beds, hot running water, and Wi-Fi,” Corey chuckled, opening his own door and hopping down to the ground.

“Nothing wrong with a comfortable bed,” Fenton replied. He slammed the truck’s door and mounted the steps to the veranda. When he drew close to the woman, he smiled and held out a hand. “Bill Fenton with Geology Partners, Inc.”

“Robyn Miller. You’re late.”

When she didn’t immediately take the proffered hand, Fenton hesitated. He was about to drop his arm when she finally reciprocated. He put on his best customer service voice, which wasn’t particularly good because he was a geologist. “Yeah, sorry about that. We would’ve been here already, but we were all the way over on the north side near Nellis Air Force Base earlier today, so we had to drive clear across town. Traffic was pretty heavy on the interstate. It didn’t ease until we got past Boulder City.”

“Nice place you have here,” Carlos said, barely bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He leaned against the truck and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. It was early November, a month in which it wasn’t uncommon to see daily temperatures ranging from the mid-fifties to eighty-five degrees or more. Today was on the high end, topping out at almost ninety.

Fenton ignored his colleague. “We’re ready to start when you are. We just need to grab our gear from the back of the truck and then you can show us the mine.”

Robyn nodded. “Of course. It’s not far, only about half a mile, but we’ll have to walk. We’re going to widen the trail and pave it to allow easy vehicle access, but we haven’t gotten that far yet. Right now, it’s pretty narrow and overgrown.”

“Not a problem. We’re used to walking.” Fenton descended the steps again and went to the truck. He dropped the tailgate and removed hardhats with dome-mounted halogen lights, coils of rope, handheld flashlights, and fluorescent jackets. He distributed the gear between his men, then went to the truck’s cab and retrieved a digital SLR camera and a large yellow toolbox. When he turned around, Robyn was standing behind him.

“What’s that for?” She asked, nodding toward the toolbox.

“It contains our equipment. We’ll need to measure the air quality in the mine and take temperature readings. That sort of thing.”

“Air quality?” Robyn looked concerned. “Do you think there will be a problem?”

“Probably not. If I understand it right, you won’t be going much further than a quarter of a mile in and sticking to one level. We’re just looking at walking tours, correct?”

“Yes.” Robyn nodded in agreement.

“You should be fine, then. We’ll need to check though, just to be on the safe side. These old mines are littered with dangers. There might be subsurface water that contains heavy metals. We could find cyanide or mercury compounds up there, not to mention high concentrations of methane, carbon monoxide, or hydrogen sulfide. It’s less likely here, but not unheard of. The mines of the Comstock Lode were notorious for gas buildup. Another hazard we need to watch for is blackdamp.”

“What’s that?”

“Its air with low oxygen levels. It leaves only a mix of unbreathable gases like nitrogen and carbon dioxide. It mostly occurs deeper underground than we’re going, but it can be deadly. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It’s unlikely that there will be any problems with oxygen levels or gas buildup so close to the entrance. Plus, you’ll be keeping close to the adit. That’s the entrance tunnel.”

“That’s the plan. We don’t want to lose anyone in there.” Robyn led the three men away from the cluster of buildings toward a winding path that led up a slope toward the mountains overlooking the ghost town.

Halfway up, they passed a rusty truck sitting on the side of the trail amid the bushes. It probably hadn’t moved since the fifties and now sat on bare axles. The glass enclosing the cab was long since gone, as were the boards that once made up the bed of the truck. Its