Dark Corner Part 26

"Maybe it was these people," he said.

"I'm sure it is the vicious mob ill.u.s.trated there," Franklin said. He had walked forward through the ashes, and begun to study the wall. "Both of you please, come. I'd like a light here" He pointed.

David and Nia went behind Franklin and directed the light at the area he indicated.

Large symbols were engraved in the stone. It was a language that David did not understand.

Franklin clicked a couple of photographs. "This is a west African tongue. Malinke, I believe, a Manding language from the Niger-Congo family."

"Really?" Nia said. "Can you read it?"

Franklin squinted. "It has been many years since I have encountered this." He traced his hand across the carved symbols.

David glanced at Nia. She shrugged.

Franklin abruptly looked at the ground. He tested it with his foot. His boot found a depression and sank in deep enough to swallow his ankle.

Mumbling under his breath, Franklin took the Bible from David. He paged to another drawing.

"Okay, what are you thinking, Franklin?" David said. "Have you figured this out?"

"Look." Franklin tapped the page. This ill.u.s.tration portrayed the Goliath of a man who was trapped behind a crumbling rock wall.

"This character in the drawing," Franklin said, "he was buried here, I think."

"Buried?" Nia said. "But the others, according to Junior's story, were piled on the ground."

"Not this one" Franklin's eyes gleamed. "No, he was special." He pointed to the engraved symbols. "Translated from Malinke, this says, roughly, 'I shall rise again to slay my enemies.' Diallo signed his name to this vow. Have you ever heard of him?"

"Never," Nia and David said together.

Franklin looked excited. "Diallo was a prince in eighteenth century Mali. A prince and a warrior, in fact. After losing a battle, he was captured, sold to European slave traders, and s.h.i.+pped to America, at which point, as it was with so many of our ancestors, we lost track of him and his lineage."

"How do you know that the same Diallo wrote this stuff on the wall?" Nia said. "Thousands of slaves came from that area of Africa, from what I remember from my history cla.s.ses."

"I'm taking an intuitive leap," Franklin said. "In the absence of complete data, historians must often use their imagination to connect the dots, if you will. It feels genuinely correct to me"

"Let's say you're right," David said. "How did he come to be buried here? And why is he featured in drawings in this Bible?"

"Valid questions," Franklin said. "But our most urgent question is: where is he now? As you can see, his body is gone"

"The man in black," Nia said. "Junior said that the man in black, and another guy, were in here. What if they dug up his body and took it somewhere?"

"Why would they do that?" David asked.

"I don't know," Nia said. "But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I must consider these questions." Franklin pressed his hands to his temples and closed his eyes. "I must consider them carefully before I reach a conclusion."

"My conclusion is that we get the heck out of here," Nia said. "We've seen everything we need to see, and I can't stand any more of this place."

An alarming sound suddenly reached them: the echo of barking dogs.

This is unreal, David thought. It's like something out of one of these Bible ill.u.s.trations.

"Grab some stones," David said. He reached down and scooped a couple of rocks in his hands, each stone roughly the size and heft of a softball. Franklin jammed his camera into his bag, and set about retrieving rocks. Nia did the same.

The dogs' barking grew louder. Closer.

"They're right outside," David said. "We can't stay in here, or we'll be trapped. We have to go outside. Follow me"

He led them around the bend in the cavern, toward the entrance. The dogs' snarling and snapping rang off the walls in staccato bursts. He was unable to figure out how many hounds were out there, but there were at least two, for sure.

He was wrong. There were four.

He crept through the pa.s.sageway and into the daylight. Four large, muscular canines surrounded the cavern mouth. They were s.p.a.ced equidistant from one another, like soldiers in formation.

Running to escape was out of the question.

The dogs had trapped them. There was nowhere to run.

Although David held heavy rocks in his hands, he thought that throwing them would be a bad idea. These canines looked wild, vicious downright strange, actually. Their eyes were rimmed with red. Mucus crusted their nostrils. Thick strands of saliva hung from their lips.

And their teeth-especially their canines-were longer and sharper than usual.

What was going on with these animals? Were they genetically engineered attack dogs or something?

The dogs had ceased barking, but their muscles were tense, ready to pounce. They glared at David with baleful, intelligent eyes, as if challenging him to flee or fight.

"It's Malcolm!" Franklin said. He pointed at the dog on the far left. "That's my dog. Hey, boy! Hey, Malcolm!" Franklin whistled.

The dog, a mixed breed, growled.

"He must not remember you, Doc," Nia said.

"That's impossible," Franklin said. "I fed him for a year, spent time with him daily, until he ran away a few days ago.. ." His voice trailed off. He frowned.

"These mutts aren't going to let us get away without a h.e.l.l of a fight," David said. His hands were clammy; one of the stones almost slipped out of his grasp. "I'm not liking our odds too much, guys"

"If we go back inside the cave, maybe we can find another way out," Nia said.

"Unlikely," Franklin said.

A wind whisked across the forest. The dogs' ears p.r.i.c.ked, as though in response to a call only they could hear. The animals retreated into the woods, in the direction opposite from where David and the others had come, heading north, toward Jubilee.

"What was that all about?" Nia said.

"The hounds are trained to detain," a man said. He emerged from the shadows of the trees. "They do not attack unless commanded"

David drew in a sharp breath. This was the same guy he had seen several days ago, when he had first visited the Mason place. Still clothed in black, he wore dark sungla.s.ses, gloves, and a hat. The man cut a striking figure as he entered the clearing and stopped in front of them.

"Explain your business on this property," the man said. "Or perhaps I will summon my friends again."

Franklin stepped forward and cleared his throat. "I'm a history professor. These two are my students. They're taking a graduate-level history course, and one of the lessons calls for a field trip."

"Is that so?" the man said. He appeared to be amused. He inclined his head toward David. "I've seen you before. What is your name?"

David paused.

"Each of you will give me your name," the man said, "or my hounds-"

David and the others quickly told him their names.

"David Hunter, were you doing fieldwork for your history course when you last visited my residence?"

"Uh, you could say that," David said.

"Is that your purpose, as well, Nia James?" the man said. "Course work?"

"Yes" Nia stood rigid.

The man laughed. It was a hearty, good-natured sound.

David noticed that the guy's teeth were a brilliant, perfect white.

"Indulge me, if you will," the man said. "What did you find of historical value inside the cavern?"

Franklin flashed a glance at David and Nia, as if to signal them to remain silent.

"We found ashes covering the floor," Franklin said. "It is my opinion that bodies-human, perhaps had been burned therein."

"Fascinating," the man said. "Go on"

"I found an inscription on the wall," Franklin said. "It was written in the Malinke tongue."

"Malinke? Excellent. What did it say?"

" 'I shall rise again to slay my enemies,' " Franklin said. "It was signed by a Diallo."

"Is that so? You've taught me a lesson. I had been unable to decipher the words on my own. Thank you for that piece of valuable information." He smiled. " 'I shall rise again to slay my enemies.' " He spoke the words with evident delight.

"Let's cease the nonsense," Franklin said. "Who are you, and what are you doing in this town?"

"My name is Kyle Coiraut. I came here to find my ancestor's body. He had come to an unfortunate end and had been entombed in this G.o.dforsaken cavern for over a century and a half. I've spent years searching for his remains. I wished to give him a burial appropriate for a prince."

"Diallo, is he the one?" David said. "The prince from Mali who was brought to America as a slave?"

"Yes," Kyle said. "You undoubtedly discovered his grave inside. We recovered his body. We will be leaving soon and will trouble your humble town no longer."

"Trouble is all our town has seen since you've arrived," Franklin said. He shook his head grimly. "You are giving us some of the truth, I suspect, but you are lying to us about your true motives."

"Touche," Kyle said. "You may in fact be a professor, but these are not your students, and you are not here on an academic outing."

Anxiety clenched David's stomach. He put his hand on Nia's shoulder, and tapped Franklin's arm. "Hey, we better get going."

"Wise young man," Kyle said. "Especially as I am sensing that my dogs are in the mood for a chase"

"But " Franklin started.

"Let's go!" David said. He grabbed Franklin's arm. Nia hooked her arm through Franklin's, and both of them literally carried him out of the meadow. They stumbled into the forest and broke into a run.

Running, David risked a glance behind them.

The man who called himself Kyle had vanished, as if he had been no more than an illusion.

No ordinary man could move that quickly. Impossible.

But David stopped thinking about it. They had to get away. He heard, distantly, the barking of the wild dogs.

"Run, run, run!" David said. He clutched Franklin's hand in his, and Nia did the same. They could not allow Franklin to fall behind.

Hands interlocked, their bags thudding against their bodies, they raced through the underbrush. David's breath roared in his ears. Cold sweat poured out of him, and he worried that he might collapse from heat exhaustion before they made it out of the woods.

Far behind, but growing closer, David heard the snappingcrackling of weeds and bushes as the dogs charged into the forest.

Franklin wheezed, his gla.s.ses askew on his face.

"We're almost there!" Nia shouted, her hair plastered across her cheeks.

David's thighs burned. His lungs ached. The humid air was like steaming stew.

They exploded out of the woods and onto the steep hillside that dropped down to the road where David had parked the Pathfinder. The sudden dip in the land threw David off balance. His ankle twisted viciously, he cried out in pain, and he slammed to the ground and rolled down the b.u.mpy hill, the strap of his duffel bag sliding off his arm, the bag getting snagged on a snarled root. He kept tumbling down the hill, gra.s.s and dirt smearing his face and clouding his vision.

He finally whammed against the gravel shoulder of the road, and the impact sent another bolt of agony through him.

Through his haze of pain, he heard the pursuing dogs roaring.

They're gonna tear me to pieces, he thought.

But strong hands hooked under his armpits and pulled him upright. Nia.

"I've got you, baby," she said. "Where are your keys?"

"Right pocket," he said in a thin voice.

Dragging him toward the vehicle, she dug into his pocket, retrieved the key chain, and pressed the b.u.t.ton to deactivate the locks. Franklin, looking weary and disheveled, swung open the rear pa.s.senger door. They helped David inside.

He lay across the seat cus.h.i.+ons, but not before he saw the dogs navigating down the hill. One of the canines plucked his duffel bag off the ground and trotted away as if it had found a prize bone.