Whirlwind by Charles L. Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

in a long, silent sigh. He took a clay ladle from the hand of the man on his left, dipped it into the pot, and stood as best he could on scrawny legs that barely held him. A word spoken to the fire. A word spoken to the smoke-touched night sky visi-ble through the hole. Then he carried the ladle to the man in the chair, muttered a few words, and poured the boiling liquid over the seventh man's head.
    The man didn't move.
    The water burned through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back and chest.
    He still didn't move.
    The horsetail twitched, but the hand that held it didn't move.
    The old man returned to the circle, sat, and after shifting once, didn't move.
    The only sound was the fire.
    A lone man waiting in the middle of nowhere.
    He stood in the center of a scattering of bones-coyote, mountain lion, horse, bull, ram, snake.
    And from where he stood, he could see smoke rising above Sangre Viento Mesa, rising in sepa-rate trails until, a hundred feet above, it gathered itself into a single dark column that seemed to make its way to the moon.
    In the center of the smoke-made basket the moonlight glowed emerald.
    The man smiled, but there was no humor.
    He spread his arms as if to entice the smoke toward him.
    It didn't move.
    He was patient.
    It had moved before; it would move again.
    And after tonight, when the old fools had fin-ished, he would make it move on his own.
    All he had to do was believe.

    Donna rolled over in her sleep, moaning so loudly it woke her up. She blinked rapidly to dis-pel the nightmare, and when she was sure it was done, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, pushing hair away from her eyes, mouth open to catch the cool air that puckered her skin and made her shiver.
    The house was quiet.
    The neighborhood, such as it was, was quiet.
    Moonlight slipped between the cracks the cur-tains left over the room's two windows, slants of it that trapped sparkling particles of dust.
    She yawned and stood, yawned again as she scratched at her side and under her breasts. The nightmare was gone, scattered, but she knew she had had one, knew it was probably the same one she had had over the past two weeks:
    She walked in the desert, wearing only a long T-shirt, bare feet feeling the night cold of the desert floor. A steady wind blew into her face. A full moon so large it seemed about to collide with the Earth, and too many stars to count.
    Despite the wind's direction, she could hear something moving close behind her, but when-ever she looked back, the night was empty except for her shadow.
    It hissed at her.
    It scraped toward her.
    When she couldn't take it any longer, she woke up, knowing that if she didn't, she was going to die.
    She didn't believe in omens, but she couldn't help but wonder.
    Now she padded sleepily into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and wondered if it was too late, or too early, to have a beer. Not that it mattered. If she had one now, she'd be in the bathroom before dawn, cursing herself and won-dering how she'd make it through the day with so little sleep.
    She let the door swing shut with a righteous nod, yawned, and moved to the back door.
    Her yard was small, ending, like all the other yards scattered along the side road, in a stone-block wall painted the color of the earth. Poplars along the back blocked her view of the other houses even though they were too far away to see even in daylight, unless she was right at the wall.
    Suddenly she felt much too alone.
    There was no one out there.
    She was cut off, and helpless.
    The panic rose, and she was helpless to stop it. Running from the room did her no good because she could see nothing from the living room win-dow either—the rosebushes she had spent so much time training to be a hedge fragmented her view of the road, erasing sight of the field across the way.
    Trapped; she was trapped,
    A small cry followed her to the door. She flung it open and ran onto the stoop, stopping before she flung herself off the