The nightmare came back and once again he could not wake himself up to escape from the monster lurking in the dark tunnels. The shadows shifted, revealing a hulking shape swaying from side to side at the far end of the passage, waiting for him to move and betray his location.

  According to his grandfather’s stories, in order to get out of the maze of tunnels, he needed to go through a blue light and climb a vine. A passage through the rock opened next to him, it wasn’t blue, but he escaped through it, inching forward to where a familiar jagged fracture broke the cavern floor. Telling himself it was just a dream did not keep the musky fear from filling his mouth as he searched the darkness overhead. At least the dream was consistent, for once again a translucent green line dangled over the void, just out of reach.

  The clicking of claws on rock set his heart pounding. A glance over his shoulder revealed the massive bear-like creature sweeping toward him, its red eyes piercing the dark.

  Corvan whirled about, leapt off the edge, latched onto the rope, and climbed furiously. A roar filled his ears as the creature's fetid breath rolled past him, propelling him toward the rock shelf and a blue glow just overhead.

  His breath came in ragged gasps as his sweaty hands slipped on the rope. He heaved himself higher, but the rope only stretched and grew thinner.

  When he gripped the rope even tighter, it squished like jelly between his fingers. He plummeted toward the open jaws, a strangled scream trapped in his lungs.

  Corvan sat bolt upright in his bed and wiped the sweat from his brow. A shiver crawled up his spine. The green vine and the search for the blue light were directly connected to stories his grandfather used to tell in this same bed before the man vanished. Lately he had overheard snippets of conversation about his grandfather in the hushed discussions and arguments his parents were having as his special fifteenth birthday drew closer. It was no wonder the nightmare was coming more frequently but he wasn’t going to tell his parents. He could be running to their room in the night like a frightened child.

  Pulling his knees in close, he wrapped his arms around them and gazed out the window. An owl hooted in the trees, then something moved across from him on the top of Castle Rock. A creature running on its hind legs moved past the southern gap between the boulders. Leaving by the end of the bed to avoid the squeaky spot the wooden floor, Corvan took two long steps to the window and watched closely. A few minutes later it crossed again. The lizard was back!

  Pulling on his jeans and t-shirt, he crept down the stairs and through the kitchen, then eased himself silently out through the back porch. Swirls of dust rose between his toes as he moved past the outhouse and onto the worn path leading to the rock. A lone coyote barked at a moon ringed by dark clouds.

  Cutting away from the outhouse path, Corvan circled the base of Castle Rock just inside the tall stalks of ripening grain. Approaching the water channel cut into the west side of the rock, he dropped to all fours and crawled forward within the smooth walls. The coyote barked again, closer this time. Corvan flattened himself against the cool stone. He could handle a single coyote but had no desire to encounter a pack alone in the dark. He listened intently. There was no answering call from the usual pack of coyotes that roamed their area and sometimes checked out the chicken coop in the back yard. Instead, he heard the scratch of claws heading directly toward him.

  Corvan lifted his head above the edge of the dry water channel in time to see a shadow detach itself from the protection of the larger rocks overhead and dart toward him. The lizard was trotting alongside the channel on its hind legs, its eyes glinting in the moonlight as it looked out over the field. It was almost to Corvan’s hiding place when it abruptly veered off and disappeared into the wheat. A swath of wheat stalks swayed with its passage into the field.

  If it came back the same way, he could try to catch it. Slipping out of his t-shirt, Corvan tied the neck shut with the sleeves. The improvised sack had worked in the past to catch a rabbit, but it obviously wasn’t big enough to catch the large reptile. All he could do was wrap the shirt around its head so it couldn’t see but what if it ripped the thin cloth to shreds? What if it ripped him to shreds? This was a bad idea. He should run to the house to find something stronger, but this might be his only chance to prove he was not a liar. If nothing else, he could at least watch it to see what it was up to. Flattening himself into the water channel, he peered into the darkness where the lizard had disappeared.

  Time crawled by as dark shadows from the clouds overhead moved across the rock, then launched out into the sea of grain, looking like an armada of pirate ships sailing away in the night. The shadows vanished momentarily as a brilliant flash of lightening illuminated the open prairie. Thunder rumbled overhead, and in the deep silence that followed, Corvan heard a sharp hiss.

  Rolling on his side, he found the bright eyes of the lizard watching him intently from the lower edge of the channel. Dropping a small bundle, it moved intently up the slope toward him, its gaze fixed on his face.

  The lizard drew close enough for him to see the blue marks on its chest and a black collar around its neck. He hadn’t noticed that before. Was it someone’s pet? Maybe someone in the city brought it home from a tropical jungle on their travels and it had escaped. The creature’s claws scraped across the rock as it hissed and clicked in angry tones. Corvan was about to leap to his feet to scare it off when the creature stopped, raised its nose, and sniffed the air.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Out of the darkness, a coyote bounded up from the field. Corvan shouted and the reptile ducked to evade the attack. The coyote skidded to a halt, whirled about, then pounced on the lizard. The lizard easily rolled to one side, its front claws raking the coyote's lean face as it went by. The wounded animal yelped, then stopped to wipe a paw over its torn nose. In that moment, the lizard sprinted up the slope and disappeared into the circle of rocks. The coyote shook its head furiously before leaping after it.

  Corvan jumped to his feet, tore up the incline and darted inside the ring of boulders, waving his t-shirt over his head and yelling at the coyote digging furiously in the dirt next to the central stone. It turned to him, snarling, and weaving its head from side to side. Bubbles of saliva dripped from its black lips. Rabies!

  Corvan resisted the urge to run, dropped his shirt, and waved both hands over his head to make himself appear larger. Immediately the angry growl gave way to a whimper. Fear shone in the animal’s eyes. Rabid animals were always more aggressive than this. The wounded animal put its tail between its legs and stumbled out of the ring of rocks to disappear in a brilliant flash of lightning. A blast of thunder rolled across the darkening prairie. The storm had arrived.

  Drops of warm rain fell on Corvan’s bare torso and he bent to pick up his t-shirt. Lightning crackled, illuminating a small bundle on the ground. Picking it up, he discovered a dozen or so short stalks of wheat neatly tied with a leather thong.

  “Animals can’t tie knots,” he whispered. “Where did it get this from?” Setting it down on one of the outer boulders he untied the shirt sleeves and tugged it over his head. A spatter of rain fell on his upturned face as black clouds boiled in the sky overhead. The storm might turn into hail, maybe even a tornado. It was time to get back to the house.

  He looked to pick up the strange bundle of wheat, but it was gone. Whipping about, he caught site of a shadow slipping beneath the large boulder where the coyote had been digging. The lizard had returned for its prize, but why would it want a bundle of wheat so badly?

  A powerful gust of cold wind rushed past him before a blast of freezing rain pummeled the back of his head and sent a shiver through his body. He made a dash past the central rock and into the wooden fort he and Kate had built on the other side. He squinted at the light bulb swaying on his back porch. He was about to make a run for it when the clouds burst, and sheets of driving rain obscured his view.

  The tattered tarp roof whipped up in the wind, spraying water into his face. Corvan backed away from the door. A prairie storm like this rarely lasted long but the display of lightning was exciting to watch, as long as it didn’t hit the lightning rod his grandfather had attached to the very peak of the house.

  The rain pounding on the canvas roof of the fort began to mix with the intermittent patter of hailstones. The rickety walls swayed in the gales of wind that whipped past it and in through the open doorway. Huddled in the far corner, Corvan watched as the water falling over the Castle Rock gathered and spread out around the central boulder.

  Usually, the water would rise high enough to drain out the channel heading down the western side of rock, but this time it began to leak into the hole the coyote had dug into the soft dirt. When the coyote’s mound of dirt collapsed, the muddy water rushed in and dropped away. The drain opened wider, and a whirlpool formed, sucking the water away inside the Castle Rock. A column of bubbles shot up through the whirlpool, and something bobbed to the surface of the water, swirling amid the hailstones. Corvan jumped to his feet and peered out the door.

  It was the sheaf of wheat.

  Splashing into the pond, he tried to grab the small bundle, but it shot past his fingers then disappeared back down the water funnel. Dropping to his knees in the freezing water, Corvan thrust his hand in to get it back. The wheat was gone, but below the surface, the water was flowing between two slabs of rock. He was just about to pull his hand out when it came up against a slender rock with a series of sharp angular edges. It was some sort of quartz crystal, a very large one and the perfect addition to his rock collection.

  He tugged, but it did not come free. He tried pushing down on it instead, but his hand slipped off the crystal and he fell hard, painfully jamming his arm between the two slabs of stone and trapping his face under the water. His arm blocked the drain and cold water rose over the back of his head. Twisting his arm frantically he pushed against the bottom with his free hand until his trapped arm came free. Scrambled to his feet he stared into the whirlpool, gasping, and shivering in the cold wind. Were his grandfather’s stories about a tunnel under the rock real?

  The entire mound of rock shuddered as a deep rumble of thunder echoed through the stone below his feet. The lightning flashed and the whirlpool vanished, replaced by a rapidly rising swell of freezing water around his legs. The water flowed quickly out into the western channel, and Corvan ran ahead of it down the slope and turned for home. Another flash, then the lightbulb on his back porch and all the lights in town winked out. Repeated streaks of lightning and peals of thunder chased him up the stairs and into his room.

  He stood at the window, dripping, and staring through the grey curtain of rain at the Castle Rock. The numbness in his injured arm slowly gave way to a growing warmth. Corvan flexed his arm, and a sharp pain clenched his shoulder. He looked down his arm to find his fist coated with sticky mud. Somehow, he had managed to pull out a large crystal. That must have been what closed the hole and made the water rise.

  His hand clutched around the angular stone grew warm, then a wave of heat made the muck between his fingers steam. The crystal was suddenly to hot to hold and he flung it into the corner, where it thumped off the wall and landed with a dull clank in his metal wastebasket. He pinched his sore arm and winced. This was not a dream. The lizard was real; the space beneath Castle Rock was real; and he had almost drowned to retrieve something that had its own source of heat from under the ground. How could a rock do that?

  Pulling the wastebasket over to his bed, he sat on the floor and looked over the edge.

  Whatever it was, it now lay below a layer of dirty crumpled papers.

  Corvan shook his head as he mumbled to himself. “Get ahold of yourself. You are frightened and your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s likely just some old bone a dog had buried in the dirt.”

  Moving the papers aside, he peered into the wastebasket.

  This was no dog bone.