Wellspring (Paskagankee, Book 3) by Allan Leverone Page B

wait for lab analysis to be sure. But that’s it. There’s
no other guy.”

“What
are you talking about?” Melton said. He trudged forward reluctantly, the
saturated ground sucking at his work boots, producing an audible slurp with each step. “How can you not
see it? Lying right next to the bones is another guy, and this one looks alive,
his skin color is—”
    He
stopped short and stared in horror down at the secret room under the hole he
had dug less than an hour ago. “Oh, my God,” he whispered, his already pale
face turning chalk-white. His eyes widened in panic and he stumbled backward
and almost fell, wind-milling his arms in a desperate attempt to maintain his
balance. For a moment Sharon though he might drop right into the pit, but then
Bo grabbed him by one arm and steadied him.
    “What
is it?” Sharon said, and for once, Bo had nothing to add, he simply stared
mutely at Dan Melton like a moviegoer waiting for the killer to be revealed in
the final scene.
    Melton
swallowed hard and made an obvious effort to get his emotions under control.
“The guy…the guy is gone.”
    ***
    “I’m telling you,” Melton said,
“there was another body at the bottom of that hole, and it wasn’t just a loose
collection of bones, either. The skin color was normal and the dude appeared as
alive as you or me. He looked exactly like some guy sleeping one off, except he
had no clothes on.”
    Sharon
had prevailed upon Bo to fire up the Ridge Runner’s coffeemaker, and the three
of them sipped coffee and stood at the bar, trying to pretend they weren’t all
soaking wet and freezing cold. And in Melton’s case, terrified beyond all
reason.
    “Well,”
she said. “Not to dwell on the obvious, but if there was another body down
there, where would he have gone?”
    “Beats
the hell out of me. But I know what I saw.”
    Sharon
turned to Pellerin. “Did you see another body down there, Bo?”
    He
shrugged. “I didn’t see anything until just now. I got here no more than two
minutes before you drove up. I never even went behind the building until we all
went together.” Sharon glanced at Melton for confirmation and he nodded.
    “Maybe
you saw something else and only thought it
was another body,” she suggested. “Uncovering those bones would startle anyone,
and—”
    Melton
shook his head resolutely and raised his hand, cutting her off. “There was
another body in there. It was a man, maybe mid-to-late thirties, and although
his eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving, I would bet a hundred bucks he was
alive. I know what I saw,” he repeated.
    Sharon
looked between the two men and then drained her coffee. “I have to get back
outside. I’ve got work to do.”

 
 
 
 
    3
    Bronson Choate urged his seven year
old Jeep Cherokee up the rutted dirt trail leading to his cabin. Twenty miles
per was about the best speed he was ever able to achieve on the mile-long
weed-strewn cow path serving as his “driveway,” and even then he was grateful
for his safety harness. It was about the only thing preventing him from being
bounced right out the driver’s side window.
    A
merchant marine engineer based out of Portland, Bronson typically spent six
weeks at sea, followed by four weeks at home. He considered the relatively long
drive from Portland to his cabin in Paskagankee well worth the time, given his
love of solitude. Hunting, fishing and hiking were the perfect methods of
relaxing after the grueling work schedule he was forced to endure—four
hours on, eight hours off, over and over, for weeks at a time—while at
sea.
    Plus,
with the low cost of living up here at the far end of the known universe,
Bronson was able to bank most of his salary, and had been doing so since
signing on right out of high school fifteen years ago. His plan was to work his
ass off for another ten years and then retire. He figured by the age of
forty-three he would have enough cash salted away to live quite comfortably off
the beaten