Bad Land by Jonathan Yanez Read Free Book Online Page A

on his way to the office. It was a toss up between a hamburger and Mexican, but Marshall ended up choosing a burrito—it was easier to eat while driving. He wondered, not for the first time, how bad his health was if he was on a first name basis with the employees of the Mexican restaurant.
    “Oh well,” he mumbled in between mouthfuls of spicy goodness. “Might as well take advantage of this metabolism while I have it.”
    Carrying his lunch remains and brown leather satchel with him, he arrived at the Hermes and took the elevator to the top floor.
    Ann was standing right in front of him as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out. “Well, hello, stranger. Busy at work, I see. Did you have a productive morning out in the field? I’ve been looking forward to the piece you’re preparing on the history of the county.”
    “Thanks. Yeah, it was—it was interesting.”
    “Oh, really? How so?”
    Marshall mentally kicked himself for leaving such an open-ended statement on the table, especially with someone like Ann. “Oh, you know, a lot of interesting characters out there.”
    This seemed to appease Ann as she nodded and smiled in agreement.
    Marshall seized the moment. “Okay, then. Well, I’m back to work. Have a great day.”
    “You too. Don’t work too hard.”
    Marshall let out a sigh of relief as he entered his office, glad to be free of any more prying questions. It wasn’t uncommon for reporters to work from home or even be out all day in the field researching or conducting interviews, but his story was in its infancy, and he should be at his desk doing research. If anyone looked too closely, it would be clear that he was out running his own errands.
    He tossed the crumpled up Mexican take out bag into the wastebasket like a true fast food pro and plopped down at his desk. It was time to find out the truth about Wakan Canyon, and if those who lived there were unable to cooperate, then he had his own means of finding the truth.
    Marshall cracked his knuckles and hit the keyboard. His fingers flew over the keys like a musician composing a masterpiece. Marshall was no stranger to finding answers. Throughout the years as a reporter, he had always been willing to dig deeper until he found the truth. This was no exception.
    Marshall visited all the normal county historical sites, the recorder’s office, and the history sites devoted to the state of California. They all said the same generic things. They gave dates when the county was founded, noted how much the county had progressed in industry, and there were more population statistics than Marshall thought anyone would ever need. But Marshall wanted more. After hours of reading the same thing, he decided to focus his search and put in the name Wakan Canyon in a series of search engines. He was shocked at what he found.
    Wakan Canyon was the site of more gruesome occurrences than he cared to read. The word “wakan” itself meant “altar” in the local Native American dialect. It was like an urban legend fanatic’s dream. There were reports of everything from alien sightings to organized crime. One site even boasted a picture of a large man in a gorilla suit saying that they had finally found the elusive Bigfoot.
    Like any good reporter, Marshall was able to sift through the hype and narrow in on the consistent reports. He found those examples that were credible by cross-referencing the facts with actual documented reports.
    This quickly eliminated things like Bigfoot and UFOs. The thing everyone seemed to agree on, however, was that the canyon was the scene of violence and bloodshed. Long before the founding fathers of the county had met and started a colony, the site was the battleground of warring Native American tribes.
    No tribe lived in the area but it was the location where many battles were fought. Anytime a warrior or group of warriors challenged another tribe, Wakan Canyon was the place they met to settle their differences in