The Book of Bones- a Bones Bonebrake Adventure Read online

  The Book of Bones

  A Bones Bonebrake Adventure

  By David Wood

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Book of Bones- A Bones Bonebrake Adventure (Bones Bonebrake Adventures, #2)

  Newsletter

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Books by David Wood

  About the Author

  Are there aliens among us?

  Legends tell of battles with strange beings living under the earth, beings whose origins lay beyond the stars.

  When Bones Bonebrake finds himself stranded in a small New Mexico town, he comes face-to-face with a local legend and dangerous enemies.

  Joined by old friends and new, Bones finds himself caught up in an action-packed search for a lost Native American artifact that may hold the key to unlocking one of the world's most enduring mysteries. Hounded by conspiracy theorists and secret government agencies, he must stay alive long enough to find the Book of Bones!

  Praise for David Wood!

  “Dane and Bones.... Together they're unstoppable. Rip roaring action from start to finish. Wit and humor throughout. Just one question - how soon until the next one? Because I can't wait.”

  -Graham Brown, author of Shadows of the Midnight Sun

  “What an adventure! A great read that provides lots of action, and thoughtful insight as well, into strange realms that are sometimes best left unexplored.” -Paul Kemprecos, author of Cool Blue Tomb and the NUMA Files

  “A page-turning yarn blending high action, Biblical speculation, ancient secrets, and nasty creatures. Indiana Jones better watch his back!”–Jeremy Robinson, author of SecondWorld

  “With the thoroughly enjoyable way Mr. Wood has mixed speculative history with our modern day pursuit of truth, he has created a story that thrills and makes one think beyond the boundaries of mere fiction and enter the world of 'why not'?” -David Lynn Golemon, Author of the Event Group series

  “A twisty tale of adventure and intrigue that never lets up and never lets go!” -Robert Masello, author of The Einstein Prophecy

  “Let there be no confusion: David Wood is the next Clive Cussler. Once you start reading, you won't be able to stop until the last mystery plays out in the final line.”-Edward G. Talbot, author of 2012: The Fifth World

  “I like my thrillers with lots of explosions, global locations and a mystery where I learn something new. Wood delivers! Recommended as a fast paced, kick ass read.”-J.F. Penn, author of Desecration

  Newsletter

  Sign up for David’s newsletter and get a free ebook when you register! Keep up with news, new releases, and be eligible for giveaways.

  The Book of Bones- A Bones Bonebrake Adventure

  Copyright 2016 by David Wood

  All rights reserved

  Published by Adrenaline Press

  www.adrenaline.press

  Adrenaline Press is an imprint of Gryphonwood Press

  www.gryphonwoodpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Prologue

  1871- The Badlands of New Mexico

  “Beans again?” Carl tilted the brim of his hat down over his eyes and laid back on his bedroll. “Ain’t we got anything else at all?” They were still days away from Santa Fe, days of nothing but dirt, rocks, cactus, and precious little water or game between them and their destination, and all they had left to eat were dried beans. Nearby, their horses cropped on a pitiful patch of weeds, and Carl found himself wondering what horseflesh tasted like.

  “Not just beans. We got that jackrabbit you shot. Oh, wait. You missed, didn’t you?” Little Mike let out a cackle and bared his rotten teeth. “Just joshing you. I reckon that critter was a long way away. Else you’d have hit it.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Carl complained. “I done told you what happened.”

  “You told me, but it still don’t make no sense. You was about to shoot the rabbit, and a big-headed injun stuck his head up over a rock and scared you.”

  “I weren’t scared,” Carl lied. “It just surprised me is all. And it weren’t no injun.”

  “A white man, then?” Little Mike kept his eye on the pot of beans as it boiled, stirring occasionally with his knife.

  “It was gray. And it had a big head and big eyes.” He turned over on his side and looked out over the open range. He knew how foolish his words sounded, but it was the God’s honest truth.

  Little Mike’s voice suddenly grew serious. “Truth told, I’ve seen the same thing before.”

  Carl sat bolt upright. “You never told me that.”

  Little Mike nodded. “Last summer. I had about a dozen whiskeys, and when I went out to take a leak I seen somebody who looked just like that. Course, everybody looked that way for a while.” He let out another cackle.

  Carl felt his face go crimson. “You can go to hell.” He fixed his hat, tugged on his boots, and stood.

  “Aw, don’t be like that. Sit yourself down. The beans is almost ready.”

  “I’m going hunting.”

  “What do you think you’re gonna find out there, ceptin coyotes?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m gonna look. Anything’s better than listening to you.” He strapped on his gun belt, turned, and stalked off into the darkness.

  In the distance, a tall, rock formation stood dark on the horizon, and he headed toward it. Little Mike was right; he didn’t expect to encounter any game. He just needed to clear his head.

  Admitting what he’d seen had been stupid. It wasn’t a lie, but nobody was going to believe him. Hell, if Little Mike opened his mouth once they got to Santa Fe, Carl would be a laughingstock. And when had Little Mike ever failed to open his mouth?

  Somewhere in the distance, a coyote yipped. Several of its brothers answered its call, and a chorus of unearthly howls filled the air. Carl wasn’t bothered. Coyotes weren’t much of a threat. They tended to shy away from humans. Still, he touched his Colt, seeking comfort there.

  “I wonder if you can eat coyote?”

  The thought dissolved as soon as it had come. Something moved in his peripheral vision. Something much bigger than a rabbit.

  Carl whirled and drew his pistol. His eyes searched the horizon. Cactus, yucca, and a single juniper. As he stared, something moved behind the
large bush. He couldn’t see much, but he could tell it moved on two feet.

  “Who’s there?” He couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice. Thoughts of the strange thing he’d seen earlier flooded his mind. “Mikey, that you? You best come out afore you get yourself shot.”

  Nothing. Whatever hid behind the juniper remained still.

  Carl dared a step in its direction, then another. Close by now, the rock formation seemed foreboding, sinister even.

  “Come on out. I won’t hurt you.” Carl hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Beneath the base of the juniper, he caught a glimpse of a bare foot—a foot with four toes. What in creation was it? Cold sweat slicked his lanky frame, and the night air seemed impossibly cold. The barrel of his Colt wavered.

  “I won’t tell you again. Come on out.”

  The thing didn’t move. Instead, movement came from all around. He whirled, his finger twitching spasmodically on the trigger. The Colt boomed and jerked in his hand. He kept turning and firing, sending a bullet in the direction of every compass point, with a couple extras thrown in.

  When it was empty, he stood in a thin, acrid cloud of his own making, and waited.

  Finally, the thing stepped out from behind the juniper. Carl caught a glimpse of large, dark eyes, and he cried out in fear and alarm.

  His mind told him to run, but his feet seemed locked in place. A dizzying feeling of disbelief swept over him, and his body went numb. Only the warm trickle down his leg kept him tethered to reality.

  “What are you?” he croaked.

  The last thing he saw was a flash of green light.

  Chapter 1

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Uriah “Bones” Bonebrake stared at the dashboard of his Dodge Ram 1500 pickup truck, watching as the arrow on the speedometer fell while the RPMs red-lined as he stepped down on the gas pedal. Not good. A green road sign loomed up ahead, and he coasted the truck to a stop in front of it.

  QUEMADURA, NEW MEXICO 2 MILES

  “Almost made it.” He consulted his phone and found to his absolute lack of surprise that he had no signal. He’d have to hoof it into town and hope they had a repair place. He could handle minor repairs but, unless he missed his guess, he was looking at something major. He grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, slung his leather jacket over his shoulder, locked the truck, and headed down the highway.

  A stiff breeze took the edge off the hot summer day, but almost immediately, sweat began dripping down his face, only to evaporate in the dry desert air. He dribbled some water on the back of his neck and tried to focus on the landscape.

  The golden sun hung high overhead in a cornflower blue sky, shining down on a rolling landscape of juniper, cactus, yucca, and a whole lot of dirt and rock. In the distance, two russet-colored buttes stood out in sharp contrast to the dull brown earth. Because he had nothing else to do, he focused on the hill on the left and tried to estimate its height, then calculated how long it would take him to free-climb the steepest side.

  He’d just about completed his estimate when he heard the sound of a vehicle coming up behind him, and turned to see a battered red Honda Accord coming his way. He didn’t bother putting out his thumb. Few strangers were comfortable giving a ride to a long-haired, six foot five Native American.

  The Accord slowed to a stop alongside him and the driver called out to him. “That your truck back there?”

  Bones nodded as he looked the girl up and down. She was Latina with rich caramel skin, full lips, and glossy black hair that hung halfway down her back. She wore a pink midriff tank top, tight-fitting blue jeans, and big sunglasses.

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  “Out of gas? In this part of the country you’ve got to fill up every chance you get. Service stations are few and far between.”

  “I wish. It’s something mechanical for sure.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

  Bones heard the passenger door unlock, and he slipped inside. The air conditioning was running at full blast but produced little in the way of cool air. It was in dire need of juicing up, but from the looks of the girl’s battered vehicle, he doubted she had the money for such a luxury.

  “I’m Marisol. Mari for short.” She held out her hand to shake, and he found her grip surprisingly strong.

  “Bones. And don’t bother asking my birth name, because I won’t tell you.”

  “Fair enough.” She glanced in the rear-view mirror and guided the Honda back onto the empty highway. “We don’t see many natives off the reservation out here, but you’re clearly not from around here. I saw your Florida license plate. Seminole?”

  “Cherokee. Originally from North Carolina, but I’ve lived in the Keys since I left the Navy.”

  Mari sighed. “I’ve never seen the ocean. My parents were supposed to take me to Disney once when I was a kid, but my dad got drunk and wrecked our car.” She shrugged as if to say, ‘What are you gonna do?’

  Bones managed a half-smile. “Saw plenty of that growing up. The stereotype about Indians and fire water isn’t entirely undeserved.”

  “How about you? Do you drink?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to a cold one, but it’s a little early in the day for a drink. How about tonight?” He glanced at the ring finger of her left hand, saw it empty, and flashed his most roguish grin in her direction.

  Panic flashed across Mari’s face. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. I work at a bar and grill in town. The only one of either, in fact.” She turned and stared into the side-view mirror. “I just thought you might like to drop in after you get your truck taken care of.”

  As she turned her head, Bones caught a glimpse of a bruise over her right eye. So the big sunglasses weren’t solely for the purpose of keeping down the glare.

  “It’s cool,” he said. “I’ve got an idea. How about, after your shift is over, I buy you a drink. Maybe whoever gave you that shiner will be stupid enough to show up and say something about it.”

  Mari jerked her head around, and the car swerved into the emergency lane. She overcorrected in the other direction, and Bones snatched the wheel with one hand and guided them back on course.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m just really out of it today. I got this,” she gestured at her eye, “rock climbing. Had a bit of a fall.”

  “So you don’t have a boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Is he the one who took you rock climbing?”

  Mari grimaced, her jaw working for a few seconds. “The repair shop is right up there.”

  She nodded at a metal building with a large open bay on the front. A sun-bleached mural of hot air balloons floating across a desert landscape adorned the near side.

  “Balloon Fiesta,” Mari said. “They do it in Albuquerque every year. You should check it out.”

  “Sounds like something white people would do.” Bones said, eliciting a giggle from Mari. “I might check it out if the beer is cold and the women are hot.”

  “So you like old, white women?” Mari teased, clearly relieved that the subject had moved away from her bruised eye.

  “I just like women.”

  Mari pulled into the parking lot of Miguel’s Automotive and Pawn. Rather, she drove off the road and onto the flat patch of dirt in front of the building, brought the car to a stop, but left the engine running. “Here’s where I leave you.”

  “Thanks for the ride.” Bones squeezed his large frame out of the Honda. He immediately felt the heat of the sun on his black hair and wondered if Manny’s had air conditioning. “Where do I go if I want to get that drink later?”

  “Down there on the left. It’s part of the motor lodge. If you’re stuck here overnight, that’s the only place to stay in town.”

  In a different set of circumstances, Bones would have asked if she had room at her place, but the girl’s situation was clearly complicated. A part of him wanted to do something about it, but he’d been in such situations before and kn
ew how little difference his style of intervention truly made.

  “All right. I might see you later.”

  Mari wiggled her fingers in a dainty sort of wave and drove away.

  Bones managed a grin and then turned and headed for the front door of the repair shop. A sign in the dust-coated window read, “We Sell Green Chile.” He pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. A glass-topped counter filled with knives, pistols, and turquoise jewelry ran across the room. Behind it, shelves piled with old DVDs, video games, and various odds and ends lined the back wall. In the corner, a gun case coated in cobwebs held a few shotguns and a single Glock.

  “Lots of crap for sale, but no one to do the selling,” he muttered. “Hello?” he called.

  No reply.

  He waited for a count of twenty before calling out again, louder this time. “Yo! Anybody here like money, because I need to spend some.”

  A toilet flushed somewhere behind the bookshelf. A few seconds later, a portion of shelf swung forward, and a graying man with dark brown skin and light brown teeth grinned his way into the shop.

  “No need to rush me, bro. In New Mexico, we all operate on Indian time.” His face went slack. “Whoa! No offense, big man.”

  “It’s cool. My grandfather says the same thing about the reservation where I grew up. Are you Miguel?”

  The man frowned and then cackled with laughter. “No way, bro. Miguel was my grandfather. I’m Manny.”

  “I’m Bones.” They shook hands. Manny’s firm, calloused grip told the tale of years of manual labor.

  “You’re going to stand out around here. There’s only two kinds of people in Quemadura: Mexicans and Mixicans.”

  Bones frowned. “What’s a Mixican?”

  “Mexican mixed with something else.” Manny cackled. “Except for the cactus, juniper, and chile, everything here is some shade of brown.”

  Bones decided he liked the old man in spite of his annoying laugh.

  “So, what brings you in today? I don’t imagine you drove here just to check out my knife collection.” He tapped the glass counter with a gnarled finger, the grease under the nail forming a black crescent moon.

  “Truck broke down.” Bones described the problem and gave the make and model of his truck.