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

“What if the passages keep branching?” Carlos asked. “You know what these old mines are like. There could be a hundred miles of tunnels and shafts down here. Surely, we’ve gone far enough. They aren’t going to bring tourists further in than this and I’d like to get back to town.”

“What have you got going on that’s so damned important?” McDaniel asked.

“Never you mind,” Carlos said, as Fenton and McDaniel started off into the right-hand passage. He cursed under his breath and glanced down the passage to his left. He was about to turn and follow the others, when he noticed an object laying half-buried in the loose gravel floor. It glinted white under his flashlight’s beam. His eyes widened with surprise. “Hey, guys, hold up. You might want to see this.”

“What now?” Fenton returned with a scowl on his face.

“There’s something in that passageway.” Carlos nodded toward the narrow tunnel that ran off to the left. “Looks like a bone. You see it?”

“I don’t see anything,” Fenton snapped, shining his flashlight across the ground ahead of him. But then he saw it. A sliver of white against the dark brown gravel that lined the passage floor. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “What is that?”

“I’m telling you, it’s a bone,” Carlos said.

“If it is, then it probably belongs to a hapless mule, or maybe some poor wild animal that got stuck in here and died,” Fenton replied as they drew close to the object. He kicked at it with his foot, nudging it free.

“That’s not from a mule,” McDaniel said, wide-eyed.

“No, it’s not.” A shudder ran through Fenton as he looked down at the uncovered bone, which comprised a long shaft with bulbous ends.

“That looks like someone’s leg.” There was a tremor in McDaniel’s voice.

“I think it’s human,” Carlos said in a low voice. “Why would that be here?”

“We don’t know that it’s human,” Fenton replied, but deep down he suspected Carlos was right. Sensing that they had stumbled upon something important, he fired off a couple of quick photos, zooming in close for the last one. “This complicates things. We’ll need to get the sheriff up here. Those tours might not be happening anytime soon.”

“Even if it is human, it’s probably been down here for a century or more.”

“Or it could belong to a murder victim.” Fenton trained his flashlight further down the tunnel, noting that it curved out of sight some thirty feet distant. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone hid a body inside an abandoned mine.”

“I don’t see how.” McDaniel shook his head. “They only blasted the entrance a few weeks ago.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t another way in.” Fenton started off down the passageway toward the curve. “Come on, let’s see if there’s anything else.”

“I’d sooner leave that to the sheriff,” Carlos replied, but he tagged along behind, anyway.

“Aren’t you curious?” Fenton said as they approached the bend.

“Not really.” Carlos glanced back at the exposed bone and made the sign of the cross, even though he hadn’t attended church in twenty years.

“Don’t be such a baby,” McDaniel said, but when they rounded the bend, he came to a halt and now it was his turn to feel afraid.

The tunnel ended not far beyond where they were standing. Pickaxes and other tools leaned against the walls. Others lay scattered across the floor, as if the miners excavating here had simply abandoned them. To their left a wide seam of quartz ran through the rock, within which they could see glittering ribbons of gold. But this wasn’t what frightened them so. It was the three corpses that sat with their backs to the roughly hewn rock, still wearing the tattered remains of the clothes that were on their backs when they walked into the mine. Their skin was brown like tanned leather and so shriveled that the miner’s skeletons were easily discernible. They stared back at the newcomers from dead eyes that hadn’t witnessed a living person since Ulysses S. Grant occupied the White House.

“¡Dios mío!, what are they doing here?” Carlos backed up, shocked. His gaze fell to a symbol scratched into the floor in front of the miners. A circle with two arrows facing inward toward a central dot. “And what’s that?”

“Looks like they were drawing in the dirt,” Fenton said.

“I don’t care if they were playing banjos and having a hoedown,” McDaniel said, stumbling backwards. “I’m getting out of here.”

“Wait,” Fenton replied. He raised the camera, waited for it to focus, and took several photographs in rapid succession. Then he backed up. “Good enough. Let’s get topside and call the authorities. This is definitely not my area of expertise.”

“No arguments there,” Carlos said, hurrying along behind his boss.

They arrived back at the chamber where the paths forked. Fenton turned right and took the tunnel leading back to the surface. He hadn’t gone far when he heard McDaniel speak.

“I hear something.” McDaniel had stopped with Carlos next to him. He was staring down the other tunnel, his face creased with fright. “We’re not alone down here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fenton said. But now he heard it too. A creaking, like groaning timbers, only higher pitched. This was followed by a shuffling noise, getting louder.

“There’s a figure in the tunnel,” Carlos said. “I can see them coming toward us.”

“That’s crazy. There’s no one else down here. It’s impossible.” Fenton took a step back toward his colleagues. “Would you hurry it up?”

But neither man replied. They stood transfixed, staring into the blackness, wide-eyed.

“Guys?” A shudder of fear worked its way down Fenton’s spine. He was about to go back and get his friends, snap them out of their fugue, but something made him hesitate. Instead, he backed up, his gaze still rooted upon the two transfixed men.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, there was a movement. His gaze drifted toward it, and what he saw made him turn and flee in terror, even