7:09 p.m. EST — White Owl Ranch, Signal Mountain, Tennessee
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a dark sky spread across the tall windows of the family great room, the wind rustling the drapes and carrying a hint of the forest outside. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow that danced across the room, creating an inviting yet tense atmosphere.
Ana and Ocseola were comfortably seated on a plush couch to the right, their expressions composed but watchful. Directly across from them, Agent Brahmin and Agent Pho occupied another couch, their demeanor serious as they prepared to discuss the matter at hand. Between them, a coffee table was laden with an assortment of fruits and festival foods, remnants of a lively gathering now overshadowed by the urgency of the meeting.
Officer Willowby paced behind the agents, munching on a plate of barbecue, occasionally stealing glances at the intricate indigenous art adorning the walls and the vibrant potted plants that filled the corners of the room. His casual demeanor contrasted sharply with the charged conversation unfolding in front of him.
Standing like statues behind Ana were Senneca and Taregan, their expressions unreadable as they listened intently, absorbing every word exchanged.
“The current situation suggests potential outside involvement,” Agent Brahmin began, her tone measured, “but there are many angles we need to consider. Of course, any insights you could provide would be beneficial to our investigation.”
“Insights?” Ana echoed, feigning ignorance. “I can tell you about the local wildlife or the best spots for fishing, but as for the train crash, we’ve only heard rumors, just like you.”
Agent Brahmin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Rumors can sometimes point to larger truths. We’re aware that your clan is a part of a larger tribal alliance that faced some political challenges in the past. Perhaps you can shed light on any lingering signs of unrest within your community?”
Ana leaned back, crossing her arms. “Unrest? You mean the kind that leads to train crashes? Our tribe has maintained peace for generations. We have no knowledge of any plots against the U.S. military whatsoever.”
The air thickened with unspoken implications. Agent Brahmin pressed on, “I’m not implying that you do, I’m just trying to grasp the broader mindset of your community—”
“Perhaps,” Ana interrupted, “you should focus on those who actually caused the crash, rather than hinting at my people’s involvement.”
Agent Pho interjected, “We’re not suggesting that Chief Anazai. Our priority is the safety of your community, and the soldiers affected by yesterday’s events. To achieve that, we need an accurate understanding of the dynamics at play here.”
Ana met Brahmin’s gaze. “Safety is indeed a priority. But I assure you, we know how to protect ourselves.” Just then, she noticed America, Opera, and Africa in the hallway, heading for the front door. “And where do you three think you’re going?”
“Nowhere Ma,” America replied, rolling her eyes. “I was headed out for some fresh air and these two saw me and just had to tag along.”
“Don’t wander off too far now, ya hear? We’ll be servin’ dinner soon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the three girls replied in unison as they headed out the door.
1.4 miles northwest, 7:20 p.m. EST — Prentice Cooper State Forest, Signal Mountain, Tennessee
Three young boys sped through the forest on dirt bikes, clad in black ski masks, white t-shirts, and bulletproof vests.
“Stop!” the lead biker yelled as he skidded to a halt before a dense barrier of trees. The others followed suit, coming to a quick stop behind him. He rolled up his sleeve to check the GPS on his smartwatch, then pulled down his ski mask, revealing the dark, determined face of Diamonte. “It’s close, but we’ll have to walk from here.”
Diamonte led the way through the thicket, his GPS glitching as he tried to focus. The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of burnt wood. Trusting his instincts, he pressed on.
“We’re lost! We should turn back,” Tezz griped, yanking his mask down in frustration.
Marquis, quick to react, pulled off his mask and shot back, “Stop being a scaredy cat!”
The two boys exchanged a bout of playful shoves, but then the lightheartedness soon turned into a full-blown tussle. Suddenly, a strange rustling echoed above them, like something heavy moving through the branches.
“Yo, somethin’s up!” Diamonte warned, drawing a handgun from a holster on his back and aiming it toward the canopies. The boys fell silent, as their eyes darted to the treetops, but all they saw were the moonlit leaves swaying gently in the breeze.
“Who’s the scaredy cat now?” Tezz smirked, brushing past Diamonte with a nudge. “You said we’re close, right? Let’s get this over with.”
With a sigh, Diamonte holstered his weapon, his gaze still darting to the branches as they pushed deeper into the forest.
***
The scent of burnt wood intensified as the boys ventured deeper into the woods. Following the smell, they broke through a dense thicket and stumbled into a clearing, where three twisted train cars lay half-buried in the underbrush.
“Jackpot!” Tezz shouted, sprinting toward the railcars, with Marquis close behind. Tezz slid through a jagged tear in the side of the middle car, disappearing inside. Marquis found an opening in the last railcar, while Diamonte made his way to the first. Just as they were about to enter, both boys paused, hearing the unsettling sound of laughter behind them.
“You hear that?” Diamonte asked, glancing at Marquis as he drew his handgun again.
“Yep,” Marquis replied, pulling two knives from his vest and scanning the treetops. “Should I keep watch?”
“I’ll handle it.”
Marquis slipped into the railcar while Diamonte stood guard, weapon held at the ready.
“I know you’re there,” he called out, surveying the surrounding forest. “You might as well come out now, or I’ll drag you out myself.”
“Hmm,” came a disembodied laugh from the distance.
Diamonte’s heart sank. Initially, he hoped it was just his imagination, but now he was sure someone was lurking in the shadows. He racked his gun and spun around, aiming in every direction.
The laughter rang out again, this time mingled with whispers that danced through the branches above. Suddenly, a thin shadowy figure stepped out of the forest, barely noticeable against the dense foliage. It was Yakota, dressed head to toe in black tactical gear with a recurve bow strapped to his back. He removed an elevation mask from his mouth and the chuckle that escaped him sent a chill through the air. “So this was where the rest of the train went.” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. I think I understand now.”
Yakota settled onto the forest floor, his posture relaxed yet alert. “Let me guess: you and your gang decided to rob a train full of soldiers but wanted to avoid the confrontation. So, you planted explosives to send the sections flying and attached tracking devices to the railcars to locate them afterward. Am I right?”
Diamonte remained silent.
“The plan was ingenious, and the execution was flawless. And now the only question that remains is: why?”
Just then, Tezz emerged from the railcar, struggling under the weight of two long cylinder tubes. “Yo, these things are a lot heavier than they look. We’re not gonna be able to get them all on the bik—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he noticed the eerie smiling face of Yakota sitting cross-legged a few feet away. “Who the heck is that?”
Diamonte tensed, instinctively moving closer to Tezz, his gun still at the ready. “Stay back,” he warned, scanning the forest around Yakota. “He’s dangerous.”
Yakota merely tilted his head, that unsettling grin never leaving his face. “Dangerous? Perhaps. But I’m more interested in you boys right now.” He gestured to the scattered railcars, his fingers gliding through the air. “You’ve stumbled upon something significant, haven’t you?”
“Who are you?” Tezz demanded, shifting nervously.
“A messenger, of sorts. A harbinger of the chaos to come.” Yakota’s eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and calculation.
Marquis stepped out of the railcar, carrying three long cylindrical tubes. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, dropping the tubes to the floor before unsheathing his knives.
Yakota’s smile widened, the shadows playing tricks on his face. “Oh, it’s simple, really. You’ve been fishing in a pond much deeper than you realize. But don’t worry. If you play your cards right, you might just swim to the surface.”
Diamonte’s grip on his weapon tightened, his heart racing. “Look, we’re not interested in your games. We’re leaving and I suggest you do the same.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate, you see—” Yakota shot back, and in an instant, he sprang up from the ground, darted across the clearing, and sent Tezz crashing to the earth. “Because the game has already begun.”
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