Karen Duvall, Author | Desert Guardian

Desert Guardian (Chapter 1) Page 1 of 3

What a perfect night for a kidnapping.

The dry desert air felt warmer than usual for early spring, even for California, and a moonless sky offered Sam Reed the ideal cover of darkness. He peered through his binoculars at the row of trailers rimming the camp of the Star Mother cult. The camper in the middle, a dim yellow light glowing from a tiny window, held his soon-to-be kidnapees. He recognized the camper even in the dark. It was the same one he had stayed in with his mother twenty years ago.

“Well, Cody old boy,” he whispered to the scruffy coyote that stood at his side. “You ready to play?”

The lanky canine, no longer the starving pup Sam had rescued from the side of the road two years ago, appeared to grin, his wide pink tongue lolling from a panting mouth.

Sam nodded. “Me, too. It’s showtime.”

He stepped out from behind a mesquite tree and reached inside the black Jeep Wrangler for his flashlight. He gestured toward the uniformed dummy sitting in the front seat. “Stay here and guard our phony sheriff,” he told Cody before setting off.

Crouching low, Sam stealthily made his way toward the line of camper trailers, his suede hiking boots kicking up plumes of sand, his black jeans and leather jacket blending with the night.

He peered into the darkness at a ragged array of army surplus tents and weather-beaten shelters from the cult’s carnival days. Utility trailers made of splintered wood and peeling paint dotted the campsite.

When he spotted the tall black tent that stood majestically at the center of camp, dread gathered like carnivorous locusts to chew through the pit of his stomach. The dark side of his soul longed to grab what was inside and make her pay for all the suffering she’d caused him and countless others. The woman who lived there had tried years ago to mold him into something like herself. It hadn’t worked. And in the process, she had taken from him the only family he had.

But payback would have to wait. He’d never have come here at all if he hadn’t been hired to take Kelly Bancroft and her brother away from this circus of sadists.

Sam stopped in back of the wide metal box with bald wheels, its ancient aluminum sides scarred from years of use. He took a quick look around to make sure none of the cult’s sentries had snuck out of their holes to ambush him. But all was quiet in the ramshackle camp, the hive of cult devotees bedded down for the night. He just hoped the two people he’d come to rescue would be as eager to leave as he was to get the hell out of there.

Resting his ear against the camper’s side, Sam listened for movement. Nothing. They must be asleep. He crawled beneath the trailer, his small flashlight clamped between his teeth as he searched for the trapdoor that would get him inside through the floor. Once he found it, he hesitated with his hand on the lever. He was assaulted by sudden memories of how this portal had been used in years past.

Star Mother’s sentries would sneak up on unsuspecting guests who were promised sanctuary in a peaceful community that guaranteed eternal life beyond the stars. The cult was similar to Heaven’s Gate in principal, but not in practice. After a few days of artificial kindness and false compassion, the women were raped, the children were separated from their parents, and the men were beaten...all in the name of Star Mother. The bitch. Heaven’s Gate was a nursery rhyme compared to the horror novel epitomized by Star Mother.

He gritted his teeth against an onslaught of emotion, biting down so hard he heard the crunch of enamel on enamel. Must remain focused. The people inside needed his help, not his rage.

With a careful twist of the lever, he pushed up on the trapdoor and climbed into the darkness within. According to the man who had hired him for this covert intervention, his daughter Kelly was only visiting the cult for a couple of days. His son Jake had been a full-fledged member for well over a year. Kelly’s plan was to cajole her brother into leaving the cult, but her father feared she was in over her head. He was right. Sam hoped he’d arrived in time to prevent any physical or psychological damage to either of them.

He knew the trailer’s layout like the back of his hand and automatically veered toward the two bunks in back. One was empty. The other held the form of a woman who turned in her sleep as if reacting to his presence, though he knew he’d been silent as a cat.

The woman’s eyes were closed, but her eyelids fluttered as if she were dreaming. The room was dimly lit by a nightlight, enabling Sam to see the sensuous curves of her body beneath the blanket. He couldn’t help wondering what she wore under the sheets. Maybe a skimpy nightgown. Or perhaps she slept in the buff.

She jerked and her eyes flew open. He swiftly knelt beside her to place one hand over her mouth before she could scream.

“Be still, Miss Bancroft,” Sam said, glancing behind him to make sure no sentries had come up through the floor. “Your father sent me. I’m to bring you and your brother home.”

Her startled blue eyes widened, unconvinced.

“Don’t believe me?” he said, and leaned in closer, his voice low. “Your father’s name is Frank Bancroft and he owns a small tourist gift shop in Phoenix, Arizona. You’re Kelly Bancroft, twenty-five years old, a physical education teacher at Piedmont High in Phoenix, and you coach girls’ track and field for the local community center on the weekends. How am I doing so far?”

She scowled, but nodded. He didn’t dare risk taking his hand away. If she screamed, every sentry in camp would come running and then they’d be totally screwed.

“Your eighteen-year-old brother dropped out of high school a year ago to join Star Mother. You’re here now because you want to talk him into leaving the cult, is that right?”

Still scowling, she nodded again, but her eyes were more intent. She might believe him now.

“I know from experience how dangerous these people are, Miss Bancroft, and I’m afraid you won’t be talking anyone into anything here. The Star Mother cult plays for keeps, and the only way out is my way.” He nodded toward the open trap door. “Quietly, in the dark, and without anyone the wiser.” He narrowed his eyes. “If I take my hand away, can I trust you not to scream?”

continued . . .