Goshawks

By Gary Headlee

Something strange is happening in the small town of Crump, people missing. Jodi Benton vanishes without a trace. Her brother George and new love Tim Wingo search for answers. It all seems to be related to the mesa that towers above the town and a group of investors who are developing an advanced craft for space travel to the Earths moon and Mars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary Headlee
• Release date: Aug 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452371627

Gary Headlee

Work and have lived all my life in California's San Joaquin Valley, except two years in the military, married with 4 children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Rings

Tim stood at the canyon edge taking in the changes. He viewed the red sky outlining the blackness within, as a cool breeze accompanied twilight. He thought about the creatures which were about to begin their cycle, while others settled in to rest.

Tim Wingo's ancestry was Scotch, Swedish and American Indian, with a light skinned complexion; he stood five feet, six inches tall. Though-he was broad in the shoulders and sort of deep chested, he wasn't the muscle bound macho type. His denim pants and polo shirt showed his interest in comfort over impression. A reddish-brown mustache covered his lip, while his scalp hair was a darker brown. Through squinting blue eyes, sensitive to any light, he scanned the horizon.

With a sigh, Tim's mind wandered off to a time when life was more complicated, but less lonely. If he could find a way back to Jodi, he might try to win her over. She would probably give him the You'll never change! lecture, which would serve him right for trying to crawl back into her life.

Jodi Benton was of Mexican and German decent, medium boned; she stood five feet, four inches tall. Her pleasant look, with dark brown hair and chocolate mocha eyes, showed warmth, but could be over shadowed by an assertive manner. It was cooler now in the sightless black canyon, almost cold. Tim started a fire not only to provide heat and safety, but as an object to spark his imagination. The heat waves from the flames pushed him back, inch by inch, until he found a comfortable spot to settle. As he stared into the flames, Tim noticed a man standing at the edge of the darkness looking into the circle of firelight.

This man's sudden appearance at the edge of camp surprised Tim, causing a ripple of fear prompting him to scan the area for others lurking beyond. After a few silent seconds, Tim motioned the scruffy traveler into his warm camp, judging him to be harmless. The stranger moved closer, stopping about five feet from the fire.

Hello, my name is Tim, welcome to my camp, come warm yourself by the fire?

As he moved a little closer, Tim realized the stranger was an old man. The tired old eyes stared into the fire for a few minutes, then gazed into Tim's eyes.

Please put out the fire and move a few yards from this area. You are in danger if you stay here, the old man warned.

Tim stood and walked around the fire toward the prophet of doom.

What danger are you talking about?

The old man moved back slowly, almost painfully to the edge of the camp, then stopped at the border between light and darkness.

What's your name?

My name is Sholee. Please put out the fire. There are people in this canyon who are not friendly; they might be attracted to your fire. Put it out, hurry, before it is too late! Without another word, the old man turned and walked back into the darkness, toward the top of the mesa.

Tim sat by the fire; still wondering if the old man was on the level or mentally disturbed, or maybe the old guy is a bit soused. He thought about the flat-topped mountain above. The locals called the mass of rock Indian Flats, elevation 605 feet with steep sides. The mesa stretched one mile in length, pointing north and south, a half-mile wide. There were no trees in the hard rock, but some scrub-brush grew in the cracks.

Tim was camping below the mountain, in Ash Canyon, listening to the stream at the bottom, which reminded him of the low rush of traffic in a large city. He felt his move to the small California town of Crump was a wise choice, where he'd lived for a little over one year. His move north from the Southern California, an attempt to flee the over population and crime, gave him a better outlook on life and a new hope for the future.

In Southern California, during the hours of darkness, the residents locked themselves in their homes, while law enforcement and government agencies were required to comply with loophole laws which protected the criminal and punished the victim. However, there were a few new twists in his life since the move. Again, he wondered where Jodi was.

George left Tim at the edge of the canyon the day before to look for anyone else who might be in the area. Jodi was George's sister; George didn't speak much about her to Tim. Actually, they both hedged when talking about the relationship. Jodi Benton was thirty-five years of age, seven years older than George. Tim was five years older than Jodi, so naturally the twelve-year age-gap between him and George would cause some problems.

Last Saturday Jodi took Tim to the top of Indian Flats. She decided to take him up on a good night to see the stars, people, and maybe bring back a little of the romance she remembered from younger years. George went along, hoping to meet up with a few old school buddies.

Their destination that night was a place called the Rings. At the north end of the mesa there were two huge boulders which blocked off one end of the mountain top. A small passageway between the boulders led to a large enclosed area at the end. There were several metal rings imbedded in the boulder walls about four feet from the rock floor. The rings were two inches in diameter, and bolted deep into the rock wall. In the middle of the enclosed area was a flat table carved out of the rock bed.

Jodi's sudden disappearance during the confusion of over one hundred people gathered at The Rings, was a living nightmare for Tim. He kept running over the events of that night which seemed endless. It was now seven days since she had vanished.

A partial moon dwarfed by a blanket of stars captured Tim's thoughts. Then a loud crack brought him to his feet as someone moved toward the campsite. He could make out a dark figure, but the moon in its first quarter made it hard to see beyond the campfire light. After a few moments Tim realized George was back.

Hey George, did you see an old man out there wandering around?

George moved up closer to the fire warming his hands. No, just a couple of old friends from school. They said they saw a bunch of people at the Rings tonight.

I had this visitor about an hour ago, an older man, said his name was Sholee.

I know who he is, what happened?

He showed up looking tired, telling me to leave, mumbling something about others being attracted to the camp fire. He then took off.

People seem strange sometimes.

With exposed hands, Tim started tossing cupped handfuls of dirt into the fire, trying to smoother it. George moved in to help; dust and smoke filled the air as they worked at killing the fire. They finally stopped, both stared at the small amount of smoke and traces of red glowing wood chips.

Let's go to the Rings and see if we can find anything.

Tim and George climbed the flat-topped mountain. As they hiked, George described The Rings.

"The Rings is a place where the locals gather from the surrounding area. They watch the stars or party. It could be classified as an inspiration point for the younger folks. No one knows who found the place first. It's an easy place to hike to, and provides a good view of the lower areas for miles around. I don't remember the metal rings in the rock when I was in high school. There was a big write-up in the town paper about the Rings a few years ago. The rings consist of a smooth silver colored metal. That's how this place got the name of The Rings."

Tim was fascinated with this mysterious place. I'll bet the history of this mountain is very interesting.

There are ancient stories of Indians who used the mountain top to worship their gods, but I don't think the Indians put the rings in the rock. The metal looks too recent, and the Indians didn't work with metal. Another story is the Spanish used the mountain as a look out to provide a great view of the canyon and valley. I've even heard a tale about people from space gathering here. Though that sounds more believable while delirious during a bad bought of the flu. The metal rings are strange. My parents use to visit the rock's walled area, but could not remember any rings.

The talking stopped as their journey ended at the outer side of The Rings, about five yards from the center, where they could observe the group without being noticed. They were too far away to hear exactly what was being said, but George recognized the group, as a bunch of business leaders from Crump.

George whispered, These guys have a club called the Association of Hoot Owls, they meet at Mom's Restaurant on Wednesday nights.

Tim could only make out the louder voices that conversed on the topic of money and business. After listening for a few minutes, Tim stood up, and then walked into the group of men followed by George.

The men stopped talking. Their eyes all fixed on the new visitors. There were a few seconds of silence, then one of the men smiled at George. Hey young fart, what are you doing up here?

George grinned, Hi James, you old salt. We're looking for anyone who might know about the disappearance of my sister. George turned to Tim, This is my sister's friend, Tim.

Tim pulled out a picture of Jodi from his shirt pocket, handing it to James. With a quick glance, the man passed the photo on.

James shook Tim's hand, Don't you run the sandwich shop in town?

Yeah, drop in sometime for a cup of coffee, I make a great brew.

You'll have to join our club, we're dedicated to the growth of business in Crump.

I'll have to check into your club.

None of the men had any information, so Tim and George headed back to camp.

Early Sunday morning, Tim and George packed all their gear and headed back to Tim's truck. They both had to work Monday. When they reached Crump, George was dropped off at the market, and then Tim stopped by the police station to see if Jose had any information on Jodi. He found Sergeant Jose and the troops out back, bunched around a freshly painted Chevy truck.

Morning, Sarge. I was wondering if you heard any news about Jodi?

Sorry, Tim. Jose shrugged. If I get anything at all, you'll be contacted right away. The sergeant grinned. Say Tim, you want to sell your truck?

No, I'm just getting the seats worn in, he joked back to hide his disappointment.

Chapter 2

Star Gazers

Tim drove home to his three-room one-story apartment facing the street.

As he opened the door, he gave himself a mental note; he needed to check his mailbox. The mail was delivered to the house where he use to live, a small service he dearly missed. Apartment living was substandard compared to a house, but the cost of owning a home was not in his budget. However, the lawn and gardening were taken care of by the apartment management. Tim stopped in the kitchen to grab a cola, and then moved on through the front room.

George moved in a month before, using the couch to sleep, which gave them both a monetary break. George the slob, left cloths and a pile of blankets on the couch, plus there was always an assortment of dishes and soda cans on the coffee table. One thing Tim found strange was that George kept his mess contained to one area, which was the coffee table, couch and the floor between. George helped keep the rest of the place clean. Of course, neither of them did a really good job of cleaning the bathroom.

With his eyes closed, Tim lay on the couch, motionless. The night was warm and calm. He tried to focus his attention and mind on Jodi. If I could only reach you by thought. Tim tried to blank his mind. Visions from his closed eyes were of light waves that danced behind his eyelids. His breathing slowed as he relaxed.

Tim drifted off to a state between being awake and asleep. Visions came fast, but didn't seem to be what Tim wanted to see. The Image he saw was a view of a strange city. He pondered the image, and then decided that he would not see Jodi. He would see the images she saw. The only way he would see her was if she were looking in a mirror. He also had the feeling that she was traveling back to Crump.

The sound of keys rattling brought Tim back to a conscious state. He opened his eyes. George moved through the front door, noticing Tim on the couch.

Hey George, what's new? Tim looked toward George.

Nothing. How about you? George walked over to Tim.

You want to hear a laugh?

Sure. George paused giving Tim all his attention.

I was on the couch here trying to connect thought waves with Jodi.

George grinned. Did you receive any information in your quest?

Tim breathed in deep. Well, all I get when I close my eyes is a feeling of being in a strange city, maybe a view from a balcony. I'll bet you think I'm going crazy?

No, Tim, I sometimes lay at night wondering if I could connect with someone else's thoughts.

Tim rubbed his eyes. I guess I can't really do it. If so, I would know where she is and if she is safe. Tim closed his eyes.

George pushed Tim's legs off the couch and then sat. I had this girl friend once, I swear I could guess her every move. We were together for a few years. It was as if I could read her mind. Actually, she was just too predictable.

Tim shook his head sideways. The world would be a nicer place, if women and men could understand each other better.

George laughed. Na, all the women I have known just want to be difficult. They always have to be different, maybe it's to keep us guessing.

Tim smiled. I think we are all creatures of instinct.

The television blasted as a stone-faced anchorman issued another crime report of the daily news. There was no real escape from the big city of Southern California because radio and television reached out to over one hundred square miles. A knock on the door brought Tim to his feet, thinking Doom and disaster, while he turned down the TV and opened the front door.

Like a ghost from the past, the old man from the canyon stood looking into Tim's eyes.

Tim, the sergeant told me you live here. I have some information regarding your girl friend.

Please come in. You're Sholee, right? Tim moved aside for the old man to enter.

Sholee slowly walked into the apartment, glancing around as he moved.

Please, sit and tell me what you know.

The man was silent for a moment, as if carefully selecting his words. Well, I saw two women walking toward the road that night the girl disappeared from the mesa. One was yelling at the other.

Tim grabbed two glasses in the kitchen, adding ice and pouring tea, then handed one to Sholee.

What did they look like?

One was short, about five-foot-two with medium-length, light-brown hair. The other was taller with long black hair. Sholee sat in the orange rocker taking small sips of tea.

Tim's eyes narrowed. What were they wearing?

The shorter gal was wearing a bright-green shirt with blue denim shorts, nice legs! The other had on a white blouse with a short black skirt.

Tim paced the floor. The girl in the green top was Jodi, but who was the other? I don't recall Jodi knowing anyone like that. What do you know about the Rings?

Sholee took another sip of his tea, and paused, as if he was conjuring up a reply.

The Mesa of Rings is where strange things and people meet early in the morning during the quarters of the moon, when the moon is not so bright.

You mean the kids partying?

No, in the hours between two and four a.m. after the kids have gone home. Sholee scratched the side of his nose, glancing around the room.

Tim waved his free hand, attempting to keep eye contact. Have you ever seen what goes on?

Well, I've heard things from a distance, but I couldn't get close enough. I don't know who they are or what they're doing, so steer clear of them.

Tim stopped pacing, for a moment giving Sholee a squinted stare, then pulled up a chair and sat right across from him, as if to emphasize the importance of his next questions.

Have you told the police about this, and who exactly were you warning me about in the canyon?

The old man sat silently, staring passively at the wall behind Tim. Hanging on the wall was a collection of large photos of airplanes and jets. They were high quality prints of military-type craft.

Tim jumped from his chair as a rush of anxiety swept over him. The same panic he felt when Jodi first disappeared. A feeling of helplessness flooded his emotions; his voice became course in tone. Pacing more rapidly than before, he started jabbing his clinched fist with his index