Vegas in Red: Ring of Fire7
John drove through the city. Windows rolled down but the air was hot as he sped along. The sun was a white-hot ball in the pale sky, baking everything underneath it. John adjusted his shades as the glare off the red car's hood was blinding. The wheels spun, churning up dirt and dust as he veered off the asphalt onto dirt roads once he was clear of the city. The gaudy lights were behind him now as he ventured across farmland and ranchland, past tiny communities with enormous satellite dishes and miles of telephone poles.
He glanced out the side window to see a herd of pronghorn antelope keeping pace with him. The wild brown and white animals gracefully darting across the desert, round cacti and other impediments. He smiled, thinking of Moira. What impossibly long Latin name she would give if he asked about them. Reminding himself he better not ask. He shook his head, wondering again why on earth he was seeing a scientist of all the women in Vegas available to him.
He pulled up to the vans parked alongside the road. He got out of his car, strolled off the road into the scrub of the desert. A few men in blue overalls were standing around, as if at a loss as to what to do. A few more were gesturing across the expanse of desert. John noted the police car parked further up the road, motioned for the two uniforms to join him. "What's this?"
"Detective Sheppard. We think this relates to your case," a tall cop informed. "We brought in animal control to be sure. We found its lair, or their's."
"Lair?" John stepped to the other men, stared. Scrub had been cleared to reveal a deep depression in the earth. Oval-shaped. Broken twigs and tumbleweeds formed a nest. It was large. Full of detritus, trash, and a few gruesome, blood-stained items. A picture frame. A slashed coat. John squatted, seeing what looked like human tissue attached to a tiny bone. "Bag that. Bag it all. If this belongs to Lodge we've got it. Anything else?"
"Not yet," one of the animal control officers answered. "No hair or fur yet. But obviously this is where the animal or animals bedded down after the kill."
"It's quite a ways from the Lodge residence," John noted, still surveying the scene. Looking for any telltale signs, like long strands of silver hair, or something, anything alien. Anything to cinch his suspicion that it was a Wraith responsible.
"Maybe this is their home territory. A pack can travel large distances if they need to, for food or survival. We're testing for any traces of saliva or urine to see if they are rabid. They must be, given the severity of the attack. We've warned the local ranchers in the area and are searching the perimeter now. We'll set a trap here in case they come back, and lay down some poison."
"They won't." John moved to his feet. Shielded his eyes as he scanned the desert wastes, the distant hills. Dusk was approaching. The sun slowly setting, turning the sky to a reddish glare against the hills.
"They might, detective. If this is their home territory they will feel most comfortable here and return. At least we know now it's an animal attack and not some psycho out there."
John was silent. He climbed out of the depression to eye the horizon. Unconvinced.
Rodney paced, paced. Finally came to a stop outside the cell. Blue light glimmered down upon the sole occupant. The prisoner was prone on the floor. Arms folded at his waist. Eyes closed. A creepy smile on his thin lips. Long, straggling braids a white wash against his pale skin. "You're sure?"
"Yes." The technician checked the consoles across the room. "He's in total hibernation. Readings at a bare minimum. Sometimes he doesn't read at all and I have to look up just to be sure he's really in there. From what we have learned so far about them he could remain like that for years. His metabolism is slowed to almost the point of death. Undetectable at times."
"And if we awaken him he will die," Richard Woolsey joined his colleague.
"I know. I just had to be certain this wasn't a feint."
"He's doing it to survive, but hunger will awaken him soon enough," Richard noted. Shook his head. "All our readings confirm he is in a self-imposed stasis."
"Good." Rodney turned to Richard. "I should get back to work on the rift equations. We need to be sure that it's sealed. There have been some minor fluctuations but that could be due to solar winds or the—"
"Rodney, go home. You've been working non-stop." Richard placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
Rodney shrugged. "I've got nothing else to do. I mean now that we're one scientist down I can't just leave to—"
"You can. Don't forget we're down one doctor too…but she's at home, waiting for you, Rodney. You need to sort your marriage before you wind up living here all of the time."
Rodney glanced down at his appearance. Snorted. "Yeah, I sort of do look like Shep now."
"What? Sheppard? Surely you're not seriously considering bringing him into the fold? Him and that team of his he is supposedly forming?"
"Yes, I am. We need him, whether you like it or not, Dick. And his team, if he ever gets it together. That reminds me, I want to run another biological scan of the area."
"Oh come on! There is no other Wraith out there! We've been over this. All situations have been contained. You're overtired, Rodney. Go home. Go somewhere, just get out of here."
Rodney smiled. "Okay. I could use a bite to eat." But he wasn't going home. He was going to a secluded little diner where another woman waited for him. Another woman who would listen to his woes and be sympathetic, even critical. To a woman who hadn't betrayed his trust, like his wife had.
John tossed the report onto the captain's desk. "It's all there. This new info just confirms the animal attack theory. Animal control officers are on it as we speak."
Captain Hendricks glanced at the report, then regarded the detective. "I see. I am going to issue a formal statement to that effect. I won't be countermanded again by your biologist, will I?"
"No."
"Good. We don't want any widespread panic either, John." He eyed the younger man for a moment. "You're still not convinced."
John silently cursed to himself. Hendricks had always been able to see through him, at times. "Not yet. Let me follow up on a few things, quietly. Just to be certain."
"Okay, but don't waste too much time on this. Animal attacks are not part of our jurisdiction, and there are plenty of human criminals to catch. What are you thinking, anyway?"
John shrugged. "You never know. This is Vegas, after all." He returned to his office. Shut the door. Grabbed his phone and pushed the button. Waited. Waited.
Moira was trying to listen as the director of the museum went on and on about the expedition. Reiterating things that Moira already knew. All about the dig, the specifics, the fossils, the terrain. She felt her phone vibrate and shifted, shrugged and checked it. "Sorry, I have to…sorry." She ignored the scowls and stepped out of the office. Held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Would a human presence contaminate a lair?" John asked, without any preamble or greeting.
Moira blinked. "Hello to you too, John. What?"
"You heard."
"Yes."
"Thought so. Thanks, Moira."
"Whoa, don't you dare hang up on me! What is this about, John? The case? You found the lair of the, the Wraith? Because we both know it's a Wraith and not an animal attack, don't we? Despite the incongruity of the—"
"Lunch, then? Rodeo Bob's, okay? Half an hour. I need to bounce some things off you, then bounce you. See ya."
John laughed as he ended the call, hearing her sputtering outrage. He smiled. But his smile faded as her words played in his mind. Her supposition the same as his.
There was a Wraith loose out there somewhere. And he had no idea how to find it.
