“Tell me about Colorado Springs,” the voice asked in measured tones.
“Second biggest city in Colorado.” Reid struggled, battling through the haze in his brain. Everything was gray, thick. Thinking was like swimming in cotton candy.
While he couldn’t actually articulate it, he instinctively knew that getting his thoughts together shouldn’t be this hard.
“Where’s Kilgore France?” the voice asked reasonably.
Kilgore? Where was Kilgore? “With me.”
“Think, Dr. Farmer. Where was she going?”
He struggled with that. “Boston. We were going to Boston.”
“That’s right. I need you to remember. You were in Boston. It was night. You were running. Dan Murphy was there. Someone was coming down the street. You told Kilgore and Dan to run. Where did you tell them to run to?”
“Boston?” That didn’t seem right. What would he ever have to do with . . . ? A drowsy image solidified from the gray mist. He could feel the wooden handle as he swung the club. Saw it catch a man in the neck.
“Blood . . . such an incredible amount of blood!” He watched it spilling out over a dirty gray carpet in a hallway. Stairs were there . . . And a look of horror in Kilgore’s eyes.
“Where did you plan to meet Kilgore after the blood, Reid?” the reasonable voice asked.
“Hotel. Airport.”
“After the hotel? Where were you going?”
“Don’t know.” He puzzled at that.
“Colorado Springs?”
“My aunt lived there. Nice Doubletree Hotel. Hot chocolate-chip cookies.”
“Were you staying at the Doubletree Hotel in Colorado Springs?”
“Yes.”
“You? Kilgore? And who else?”
“Meeting.”
“With whom?”
“CCPA.”
A pause. “Reid, this is very important. Tell me about the CCPA?”
“Colorado Council of Professional Archaeologists. Brian was mad.”
“Who’s Brian?”
“Chaired the symposium.” Something was important about that.
“Reid? Did you tell Brian about the Domina?”
He struggled with the thought. The symposium had been about Anasazi witchcraft. “She’s a witch?” He would have laughed. “Makes a sort of sense, don’t you think?”
“He’s confused,” another, less tolerant voice insisted. “Bring him out of it. We’ll do it the other way.”
“One last try. Reid? I want you to remember Boston. You were running, scared. You had been in fights, do you remember?”
“Yes.” The blood, so much blood. The look of disbelief graying out of Simms’ eyes as he lay on the carpet. And then he’d hit the man on the sidewalk.
“Reid, where were you going?”
“Killed a man for sure.”
“Did you have a destination?”
He remembered the club in his hand. The absolute terror and fear running through him. He’d figured out how to shoot the pistol, taken a shot, but the pursuer had gotten closer and closer.
Reid had ducked around a corner, panting, almost quaking in terror as he stepped into the shadow of a drainpipe. The night sky had a grayish tone. Warm, damp air filled with the scent of exhaust, saltwater, and humanity. The guy’s feet slapping the concrete had come closer. The hunter’s breath ragged in the man’s lungs.
The pursuing stranger had stepped around the corner, pistol tucked tight against his chest. Reid swung the club. Instinctively, he’d caught the man across the belly, just up from the navel. As he hammered the club into the man’s middle, he’d pulled it. Obsidian had sliced through the man’s shirt, skin, and intestines. Even before Reid pulled the club through the wound, the guy’s guts were tumbling out.
And then Reid was running, terrified, sick to his stomach, almost screaming from revulsion.
“What are you thinking, Doctor?” the reasonable voice asked. “About where to go next? About General Grazier?”
He whispered, “The name, it’s a maccuahuitl.”
“Is that a place? Is that where you are supposed to meet Dr. Kilgore?”
Reid wanted only to fade off into the gray cotton candy. If it was thick enough, he’d be able to sink slowly away from the pain, horror, and memory of the maccuahuitl and the way it cut a living human being in half.
“Maccuahuitl,” Reid repeated, the name echoing in his memory.
Beyond the gray haze he heard someone triumphantly say, “That’s it. We figure out where this Mackaweetle is, we’ve got them.”
Thankfully, Reid was fading back into the gray.