Billy Buckhorn and the War of Worlds, page 23
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Raymond Bushyhead, the newest member, replied.
“I’m happy to say that won’t happen if I die,” Snake-Eye continued, “because I’m supernaturally linked to Monkata, and his Underworld power protects the Winged One from that fate.”
That brought on more questions about the emergence of the Winged One.
“Has the Winged Serpent actually ever been conjured before?” Norman Redcorn asked.
“Most definitely,” Snake-Eye said. “Rumor has it that my own ancestor, Snake Priest Monkata, successfully brought the creature up from Level Nine a thousand years ago.”
“Ancient cultures around the world once worshipped the Winged One as the Great Serpent,” Coyotl added. “Even the early Hebrews did so while they were captives in Babylonia.”
“It will be the beginning of a new glorious age when Monkata and I together control the Middleworld,” the snake leader said. “And you’ll all be there as our most trusted advisers.”
“I know we’re supposed to gather at Cahokia immediately after the Winged One manifests in the flesh,” Raymond Bushyhead said. “But how will you ever restore that site to its former grand status as Solstice City? That’ll take a lot of work over a long period of time.”
“Not really,” Coyotl replied. “Imagine the mighty Winged Serpent rising into the sky and destroying all life below. The Mundanes will be shocked and shaking in their boots in fear of death from the sky and will do whatever we want them to.”
“Destroyed how? Will it breathe fire like a dragon?” Bushyhead asked.
“Oh no, this is no European-style dragon,” Coyotl corrected. “Its very breath is death, according to the ancient texts. How it kills you exactly, I’m not sure.”
“Molok has repeatedly told us the Underworld takeover will be directed toward the descendants of the colonizers,” Jonna Boudreaux commented. “You know, as punishment for their betrayals of Indigenous people.”
“How can you be sure who will suffer and who will be saved?” Travis Garfish asked before Coyotl could answer.
“The only thing we can be sure of is chaos,” the Aztec admitted. “Unleashing the Underworld means unleashing chaos in the Middleworld—on really everybody.”
That answer doused all interest in asking any more questions about what was coming.
East of Tahlequah, at 12:01 a.m., Chigger sat bolt upright in his bed as a wave of negative purple energy coursed through him, bringing on an overwhelming sense of chaos and doom.
The whirlwind of chaos is here, he thought.
Looking at the digital clock-calendar on his nightstand, he saw the date and time: one minute past midnight on the first of May. Then images of grotesque creatures, like the ones he’d been drawing for weeks, began popping into his mind. One after another they came like a blizzard of bleakness. Traumatic memories of his destructive ordeal with the Horned Serpent’s tail crystal last fall flooded his brain, immediately leading to a paralyzing panic attack.
Oh no, what’s happening?
Remembering an old black-and-white war movie he’d seen on TV, he impulsively called out, “Mayday! Mayday!”
Then he looked down at the burn scars on his hands, which were painfully pulsating with a purplish glow. He was extremely glad to see that he wasn’t irrationally clutching the dark crystal as he’d done for several days last December.
He remembered to use the protection technique that allowed him to decrease the impact of the negative energy and regain control of his feelings. Once that was in place, he slowly breathed in, held the air for a count of four, and then exhaled. He repeated that pattern four times, allowing his mind to clear out the sense of panic.
That was something he’d learned from Lisa. Another thing he’d learned from Lisa was that Billy was no longer Billy. He was now truly and completely Thunder Child.
“You need to call him Thunder Child from now on,” she’d said. “We’ve all begun calling him that because it strengthens him and reinforces our trust in him.”
Now, a few minutes into the month of May, Chigger was able to clear his mind enough to realize that major shifts were taking place, that the Underworld takeover had begun!
“It’s happening now?” Thunder Child exclaimed when he answered Chigger’s sat phone call. “Are you sure? I thought we had more time!”
“I’m sure. The whirlwind of chaos has arrived.”
Thunder Child knew the first thing he needed to do after hearing Chigger’s revelation was notify the rest of the Underworld Takeover Prevention Team. But at that time of night, they’d probably all be asleep and hard to reach. Lisa had created a group text for just such emergencies as this, so Thunder Child sent the text anyway.
I need the UTPT over here now! Chigger felt a strong purple energy surge just after midnight. It might be the beginning of the UT.
It turned out that Cecil already knew something was up and was also awake. The supernaturally sensitive elder had felt the hint of a wave of disturbance the same time Chigger had. He texted a message back.
I’m awake. I’m getting Ethan and Lisa up now. We’ll be over ASAP.
Thunder Child woke James and Rebecca and put on a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Within about fifteen minutes, the whole team, including Chigger, had gathered in the upstairs War Room.
“I’m not ready—we’re not ready for this,” Thunder Child said as his mother brought in the coffee pot along with enough cups for everyone. He tried to keep a sense of panic out of his voice.
“We’re all very aware of what still needs to be done,” Cecil said. “Let’s try to stay calm and think this through.”
“Staying calm is a tall order right now,” Chigger said. “The purple energy is so strong I want to crawl out of my own skin!”
“What are you, a muskrat or a mouse?” Lisa said in a firm voice. “Remember your training. Use your breathing exercise.”
That had an immediate calming effect on the teen.
“Thanks, Lisa,” he said. “That helps.”
“I’ll assemble all the members of the Medicine Council in the lodge as soon as possible,” Cecil confirmed. “Our energy, as a group, can be focused on countering the negative energy with positive energy.”
“When we’re finished here, I’ll head up to Level Four and try to connect with Tecumseh,” Thunder Child said. “I’ll need everyone’s positive, supportive energy for that meeting as well.”
Nodding heads confirmed their support.
“My next call is to Raelynn,” Lisa said. “She’s number four in the list of favorites on my phone. We’ve got to get Muskrat down there so he can use his superpower to scan for the Snake Cult’s hideout—with or without the FBI’s help.”
“Lisa, I appreciate the effort,” Chigger said. “But it’s the Muskrat.”
Everyone paused and stared at the teen.
“Are you being serious right now?” Lisa asked. “The Muskrat?”
“Very,” the Muskrat replied.
Lisa just rolled her eyes.
“Well, Digger has a boat,” the Muskrat said, breaking the silence. “I bet he’d let us use it, or he might even drive it up and down the river once he finds out we’re still looking for the hidden cave.”
“Good idea,” Ethan said, looking a little surprised at the smart suggestion.
“Don’t look so surprised,” the Muskrat said.
“You know, continuing this search is probably pretty dangerous,” Ethan said.
“Danger is my middle name,” the Muskrat offered.
“I thought Checotah was your middle name,” Lisa said and smiled.
“Ha ha. Very funny.” The Muskrat chuckled.
“Okay, everybody, this is serious,” Thunder Child said. “Let’s get on with it.”
“We can talk about correcting the Muskrat thing another time, maybe,” the Muskrat added.
“I’ll start phoning Augustus right away,” Ethan said, ignoring the last remark. “If he doesn’t answer, I’ll just go over to his house and pound on the front door.”
“I’ll go with you,” the Muskrat said. “He and I have a special bond.” Then he remembered an important point. “Everyone, be sure to wear your eye-in-hand medallions at all times!”
“Got it,” came the simultaneous reply.
Thunder Child went back to his bedroom to begin the process of spirit travel up to Level Four. Once he was out of his physical body, he could sense a generalized heaviness in the atmosphere, which was new. It felt like he was perceiving the energy field not of an individual person but of the Middleworld as a whole.
Before attempting his rise to Level Four, he paused just above his house long enough to feel his surroundings, to amplify his spirit senses. What he perceived was a disruption in the normal energy flow, which had been replaced by turmoil.
This is not good.
Concentrating his own energy field within a tighter ball, he moved upward through the layers to Level Four, where his home away from home was located. Hoping the Circle of Prophets had followed through on their promise, Thunder Child put out an invitation to the spirit of Tecumseh.
As he waited in his clear-domed spiritual Home Among the Stars, he hummed the melody of an old Cherokee song he’d often heard at the Live Oak stomp grounds. That, of course, reminded him of Grandpa Wesley, whom he missed very much.
As he gazed at the stars and thought of Wesley, a strange thing happened. The bright jewels of outer space appeared to transform into millions of tiny, distant campfires.
Beautiful!
As he continued to watch, one of the campfires began burning brighter than the others. A message was coming to Thunder Child from that glowing campfire that said, “I received your invitation, and I accept.”
The campfire seemed to begin racing toward the dome, morphing into a burning orb as it approached. As it came closer, the orb evolved further and began looking like a man. Within seconds, this spirit man descended into Thunder Child’s space, appearing much like the painting of this very man, Tecumseh, created in the early 1800s, which Thunder Child had seen online.
“My brother told me of your desire to meet,” Tecumseh said. “He said you have an unusual request.”
“Thank you for visiting me,” Thunder Child responded.
The young warrior explained the conditions that were beginning to unfold in the Middleworld, including the probable manifestation of the Underworld beasts and the possible incarnation of Shadow Zone dwellers. He capped it off with his plea for help against the Underworld forces.
“Why would I, or any other Native warrior, help now?” the Shawnee man asked. “American soldiers drove us from our lands and our homes. Missionaries came to rob us of our religion and spirituality. Teachers in boarding schools punished us for speaking our Indigenous languages. They burned our traditional clothing, forcing us to wear their uniforms. Politicians created laws that herded us onto reservations where we starved on rotten food and died of the white man’s diseases.” He paused for a moment. “Have I left anything out?”
“Everything you said is absolutely true, but please listen to me just for a minute,” Thunder Child said.
He, too, paused before proceeding with his counterargument.
“America’s population is very different today,” he began. “Things have changed a lot since your earthly lifetime. Most people know that the nation’s past actions were wrong—against Native Americans, African Americans, Asian Americans. But joining us in the battle against an Underworld takeover isn’t just about saving the descendants of colonizers. It’s much larger than that. It’s about saving the whole world from total chaos, preventing completely negative forces from ruling our lives.”
Tecumseh weighed Thunder Child’s words carefully.
“You know, I checked you out before this meeting,” the Shawnee man said. “You come highly recommended by Morningstar, and you’re one of the youngest warriors I’ve ever met.”
“Good to know. Glad he hasn’t completely abandoned me.”
Thunder Child waited for more.
“I failed at my mission in the early 1800s, so this might be a second chance to do something important for our people,” Tecumseh concluded.
He paused before sharing his final decision.
“All right, young warrior. I will join you, and I’ll see if I can convince the other Native warriors up here to join you. I’ve come to know many of them.”
“That’s a big relief,” Thunder Child replied and proceeded to explain the steps he planned to take, activating the Sky Stone with the Fire Crystal and liberating the Sun Chief.
“Sounds like you’ve still got a lot to do!”
“Someday I hope to tell you all about it.”
After shaking spiritual hands, the two parted ways.
Back home, Thunder Child merged with his physical self and considered his next move.
While her boyfriend was traveling out-of-body, Lisa made the call to Raelynn, who answered the call even though it was in the middle of the night.
“What’s up, girlfriend?” Little Shield said in a sleepy voice. “Why the after-hours contact?”
Lisa explained what was going on and concluded with “My father and Chigger want to resume the search for the hidden cave. They’ll get a boat and go on their own if the FBI won’t help.”
“Jerry said the Bureau won’t approve any more resources or manpower on the search, so I guess we are on our own,” Raelynn said. “But I think he’s about ready to commit to an independent search, and he said his uncle on the police force probably would too.”
“Good. I’ll keep you posted.”
Ethan and the Muskrat drove to the home of Augustus Stevens, a.k.a. Digger, and pounded on the professor’s front door. After many loud raps, the front porch light finally came on. A frowning archaeologist peeked out between the drapes to see who could possibly be causing such a racket at that hour.
“What the hell do you guys want at this ungodly hour?” the archaeologist yelled angrily through the door.
Standing on the porch, Chigger and Ethan took turns explaining why they’d come. Stevens yanked open the door and glared at them a moment before blowing out an exasperated lungful of air.
“Come in and tell me more of this tall tale while I make us some coffee,” Digger said in a gravelly, but less angry, voice. “Sounds like a job for the Paranormal Patrol!” He paused. “That’s not the name we’re using anymore, is it?”
“We’ve got to get you up to speed,” the Muskrat said as the three headed into the house.
In the meantime, Cecil had driven his pickup over to the lodge where the shaking tent ceremony had taken place. The rest of the Intertribal Medicine Council had decided to camp out there ever since Thunder Child reactivated the group.
Rather than sound an alarm or make some loud noise to wake up the elders, Cecil began quietly building a fire in the center of the lodge. As the flames cracked and popped to life, people in their sleeping bags, one by one, began to wake up.
Upon rousing, each of them felt the increased presence of negative vibrations and instantly knew why Cecil was there. Having already talked about what to do when this time came, each one found a spot within the lodge and began quietly praying in their native tongue—praying for Thunder Child’s strength and guidance.
As the sun began its journey across the sky from the East Coast to the West, everyday Americans awoke in a foul mood and didn’t know why. Their lowest traits, their worst tendencies, welled up inside, causing them to begin acting terribly toward those around them. Every form of lower human nature boiled over—criticism, greed, jealousy, anger—you name it.
As the day progressed, the very foundations of civilized society seemed to crumble as the most basic parts of civic duty were abandoned. Many people decided to skip work, play hooky from school, or generally shun their regular responsibilities.
Normal, everyday people began exhibiting these abnormalities on a scale never seen before! Gun violence immediately became the number one means people used to resolve conflicts. The number of injuries and murders across the country skyrocketed to new and alarming heights. Even members of law enforcement became targets for anyone with a firearm.
Chaos ruled the day.
Augustus, Ethan, and the Muskrat headed toward Three Rivers as fast as they could, towing Digger’s boat behind them. The chaos all around them extended the road trip to two days. They took turns driving, sleeping, and keeping watch for monsters, both human and supernatural.
During his turn at the steering wheel, Augustus turned on the van radio.
“We’ve interrupted our regular broadcast to bring you live updates of what must be the beginning of the final Apocalypse!” the radio news reporter proclaimed. “I don’t know what else could explain what’s happening!”
Back in the Buckhorn’s upstairs War Room, James, Rebecca, and Thunder Child watched similar reports online coming from all parts of the country.
“The worst examples of humanity now seem impossibly to be coming back from the dead,” a panicked on-camera reporter said. For his own protection, he was reporting from inside an armored police vehicle parked outside the Angola prison. The scene cut to a view of the prison cemetery, where dozens of inmates had been buried after being put to death in recent years.
The reporter’s voice continued. “It began in the middle of the night as previously executed inmates started materializing in the field behind the prison, where they had been interred by the state.”
Then the camera shot transitioned to the city of New Orleans, where almost two thousand people had died during Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Hordes of disheveled, wild-eyed people of all races stumbled aimlessly through the streets.
The reporter continued. “But it doesn’t seem like everyone who died is coming back. The ones showing up are what you might think of as less desirable people released from below! But now they’re back here and in the flesh! My advice is to stay inside with your doors locked.”
“Didn’t see that coming!” Thunder Child told his mom and dad.
