Excerpt of The Sandburg Connection by Mark deCastrique

In less than thirty yards, the trees thinned as bare rock broke through the soil. A sign reading "Glassy Mountain Overlook" pointed to a wider patch ahead. The gray granite began sloping downward and my artificial leg transferred every jarring step into a painful stab. I paused to switch on my camera. Janice had to be somewhere right ahead of me.

"No!" A woman's voice shouted. Then the word grew to a shrill scream. Abruptly the sound ceased, cutoff like a plug had been pulled on a radio.

"Nakayla, hurry!" I ran as fast as I could over the rock. It spread more than fifty yards, curving downward to the trees below and opening a spectacular view of the valley.

Rain and wind had carved ripples into the exposed stone making the footing uncertain. I turned sideways, putting my good leg lower so it bore most of my weight. On the granite, a splotch of smeared blood shone red in the sunlight. Then my chest tightened as I saw Janice's body twisted against a tree at the base of the rock. A sudden movement to my right caught my eye. A brown blur flashed beyond the rhododendron and disappeared.

"Sam. Be careful!" Nakayla stood above me.

"It's Janice. She fell." I sidestepped, as the descent grew steeper.

Nakayla scrambled past me, more agile on the slope. When I joined her, she was kneeling beside Janice with her fingers pressed against the carotid artery in the woman's neck. Blood flowed from a wound somewhere underneath her hair.

"She's still alive but she's taken a nasty crack to the head," Nakayla said. "I'm afraid to move her. Call 911."

I gave a brief account to the emergency operator, asked for an ambulance, and requested the rangers at the Sandburg home be notified. They might have some all-terrain vehicle that could come up the wide trail.

A moan slipped from Janice's lips and her eyes fluttered. She looked at us. Pain and confusion mingled in her gaze.

"We're going to get you out of here," Nakayla whispered.

"Wendy." The word was a wisp of breath.

"Don't talk. Help's on the way."

Janice reached up and brushed Nakayla's cheek with her fingers. "Wendy. It's the verses. Sandburg's verses." The "s" sounds hissed faintly and died on a gusty breeze. The injured woman's eyes closed and she spoke no more.