be heard all the way down in the valley. During the long winters, when food became scarce, the monsters would come down the mountain in search of food. They would kill some of the tribe’s people, carrying their bodies high into the mountains where they would eat them. One day, the members of the tribe came to Coyote and asked him to protect them from the monsters. Coyote agreed, asking the hawk to go with him, for he had a plan. Together, they went high into the mountains where they came upon the two monsters. The monsters chased Coyote to the top of the mountain, and just as they were about to fall upon Coyote and devour him, the hawk swooped down and lifted Coyote to safety. The monsters fell from the top of the mountain. They struck the ground so hard they were swallowed by the stone, turning into two tall rocks. ‘And you shall stay there forever,’ Coyote said.”
As he listened to the end of the tale, George remembered the feelings of pride he had felt as a boy when he had heard the stories of his namesake, the hawk, saving Coyote.
His grandmother continued, “But they did not stay forever. The rocks are gone. The monsters are free again, and Coyote has gone to live with the Great Spirit in the sky.” She opened her eyes and looked at George. They were suddenly sharp and clear, and they bored deep within him. With a withered hand, she reached out and grasped his wrist.
“You must become like Coyote. You must destroy the monsters before they kill our people.” The room seemed to close in around him. It was hot, and the incense was too thick, which made it hard to breathe. He rose to his feet unsteadily and made his way toward the door. He was dizzy.
He pulled the bead curtain apart and was about to step into the hallway when his grandmother’s voice came to him once more.
“You must become like Coyote, Little Hawk,” she repeated. “But beware, for unlike the hawk, the coyote cannot fly.”
George stood in the doorway a moment longer, trying to understand what had just happened. But as it had so many years before, understanding the old ways still eluded him.
CHAPTER 12
Maryland
Dr. Myles Bennett walked briskly down the marble-tiled corridor, the bottom of his white lab coat flapping about his knees. He stopped before the large oak doors and pushed his glasses back up from the end of his nose.
His palms were sweaty as he grasped the door handle. He stepped into the office, and surreptitiously checked under his right arm to make sure he hadn’t sweated through his lab coat.
“Hello, Dr. Bennett.”
“Uh, hello—” He glanced at the nameplate on the desk. “Oh, yes, Linda. Hello.”
Linda was tall and thin, a lady of exquisite beauty and composure with ruby red lips and long dark hair. She wore a shapely wool skirt and a silk blouse. She made Myles even more nervous than before.
“I’ll tell the general you’re here,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
The waiting room looked like the inside of a law office. There was plush, dark green carpet on the floor and a mahogany sofa table with the latest issues of TIME and Newsweek in front of him. On the mahogany-paneled walls to his right and left were large, gilded-framed pictures of colonial Williamsburg that had been painted in the early 1800s.
Just as Myles was about to sit down, Linda hung up the phone. “The general will see you now.”
Myles stood back up and stepped into General Colquitt’s office.
“Good-afternoon, Dr. Bennett.” The general stood and motioned toward the chair across from his desk.
Myles stepped up to shake his hand, but the general had already taken a seat. Even so, Myles noticed that the general was considerably shorter than he had thought. He had guessed the general to be at least five ten or five eleven like himself, but he couldn’t have been more than five seven.
Myles took a seat, sinking into the low-slung leather chair, and found himself eye-to-eye with the general.
The general cleared
As he listened to the end of the tale, George remembered the feelings of pride he had felt as a boy when he had heard the stories of his namesake, the hawk, saving Coyote.
His grandmother continued, “But they did not stay forever. The rocks are gone. The monsters are free again, and Coyote has gone to live with the Great Spirit in the sky.” She opened her eyes and looked at George. They were suddenly sharp and clear, and they bored deep within him. With a withered hand, she reached out and grasped his wrist.
“You must become like Coyote. You must destroy the monsters before they kill our people.” The room seemed to close in around him. It was hot, and the incense was too thick, which made it hard to breathe. He rose to his feet unsteadily and made his way toward the door. He was dizzy.
He pulled the bead curtain apart and was about to step into the hallway when his grandmother’s voice came to him once more.
“You must become like Coyote, Little Hawk,” she repeated. “But beware, for unlike the hawk, the coyote cannot fly.”
George stood in the doorway a moment longer, trying to understand what had just happened. But as it had so many years before, understanding the old ways still eluded him.
CHAPTER 12
Maryland
Dr. Myles Bennett walked briskly down the marble-tiled corridor, the bottom of his white lab coat flapping about his knees. He stopped before the large oak doors and pushed his glasses back up from the end of his nose.
His palms were sweaty as he grasped the door handle. He stepped into the office, and surreptitiously checked under his right arm to make sure he hadn’t sweated through his lab coat.
“Hello, Dr. Bennett.”
“Uh, hello—” He glanced at the nameplate on the desk. “Oh, yes, Linda. Hello.”
Linda was tall and thin, a lady of exquisite beauty and composure with ruby red lips and long dark hair. She wore a shapely wool skirt and a silk blouse. She made Myles even more nervous than before.
“I’ll tell the general you’re here,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
The waiting room looked like the inside of a law office. There was plush, dark green carpet on the floor and a mahogany sofa table with the latest issues of TIME and Newsweek in front of him. On the mahogany-paneled walls to his right and left were large, gilded-framed pictures of colonial Williamsburg that had been painted in the early 1800s.
Just as Myles was about to sit down, Linda hung up the phone. “The general will see you now.”
Myles stood back up and stepped into General Colquitt’s office.
“Good-afternoon, Dr. Bennett.” The general stood and motioned toward the chair across from his desk.
Myles stepped up to shake his hand, but the general had already taken a seat. Even so, Myles noticed that the general was considerably shorter than he had thought. He had guessed the general to be at least five ten or five eleven like himself, but he couldn’t have been more than five seven.
Myles took a seat, sinking into the low-slung leather chair, and found himself eye-to-eye with the general.
The general cleared
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