Darkwind: Ancient Enemy 2 by Mark Lukens

way they had entered, Klein in the lead with his handheld spotlight shining the way for them. Palmer walked behind Klein with the pathetic light from his phone helping a little, and Begay brought up the rear with his own flashlight. The scurrying sounds of their footsteps, their breathing, and the rustling of their clothing all blended together into haunting echoes that bounced back at them from the darkness.
    For a moment Palmer swore he heard another rustling sound from farther behind them. He swore it was the shifting sound of the body parts, like something buried inside of them was pulling itself out. He squeezed his mind shut against that thought. It wasn’t real. He was just spooked, that’s all.
    He’d never seen anything like that before, not in his twenty years as an agent specializing in serial and mass killings. He’d seen ritualistic murders before, mass executions by madmen with assault rifles. He’d seen what could be done to the human body. But this was a mixture of both … the raw power of rage tearing limbs away from torsos, and then the delicate precision, almost artistic placement of the pieces, like some kind of horrible sculpture.
    No, whoever had done this hadn’t been trying to hide the bodies … they had displayed them.
    They finally reached the mouth of the cave, the bright sunlight pouring into the sliver of the entrance, the colder air hitting them like an invisible punch. But at least it was fresh air.
    “One person didn’t do all of that,” Begay said as soon as they were outside the cave and walking towards his Ford Bronco. Klein shut off his spotlight and handed it back to the officer who still stood in front of Begay’s Bronco.
    “That’s not any kind of animal attack,” Klein said. “That’s for sure.”
    “But those people were torn apart,” Palmer said. “Like Captain Begay said.”
    Klein looked down at his cell phone. “Can’t ever get a signal out here,” he mumbled like he was purposely ignoring Palmer’s statement.
    Palmer shoved his own cell phone down into his coat pocket. He felt his leather gloves in the pocket and pulled them out. He pulled the gloves on over the thin blue nitrite gloves and his hands felt a little warmer.
    “Not an animal exactly,” Begay said.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Klein snapped at him.
    Begay didn’t say anything, but Palmer had an idea of what the big man was getting at—some kind of Native American legend or something, some mythical monster that attacked humans and tore them apart. But Palmer wasn’t going to say anything and let Klein ridicule the captain in front of his own men.
    Begay still didn’t seem ready to expound on his statement and Klein dismissed it.
    “Look,” Palmer said to Begay, “I know this seems impossible, but I assure you a person did this. More likely a group of people.” Palmer thought back to his theory of a group of Navajo radicals who wanted to send a message to other scientists who might want to come and dig up their land. It seemed like an extreme theory, but it was all Palmer had to go on right now.
    “I know this seems … seems impossible,” Agent Palmer continued. “But when the forensics team gets here, they’ll figure it all out. It might take a while, but they will figure all of this out.”
    Begay didn’t say anything, he seemed to be choosing his statements carefully, but Palmer could see the doubt in the man’s dark eyes.
    Palmer couldn’t blame Begay. What they’d just seen inside that cave was hard for any person to wrap their mind around. He had heard of cases that were nearly as gruesome as the display in the cave: cult killings, sadistic tortures. He remembered reading about World War II soldiers who had invaded Hitler’s death camps at the end of the war and saw horrors beyond belief, atrocities beyond understanding, things that haunted their dreams. Palmer knew that humans had the will and the power to do unspeakably terrible things to each