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THE AZURITE ENCOUNTER

By JANE FRANCES RUBY

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Jane Frances Ruby
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-3854-0

Chapter One

Despite great speed and agility the ill-fated prey could not avoid his predators. He tried everything. He hid among the structures and tried to blend in with the scenery, but his enemies had keen eyesight and flushed him out. He retreated back to what was once a safe haven on familiar grounds, but they quickly caught his scent and followed him. He even bluffed a threat to attack, but they weren't intimidated. He was running out of time and tricks. His approaching enemy countered every strategic move that he attempted. Ultimately he was surrounded on all sides, and escape was impossible. He coughed. He choked and gasped for air as his enemy pounced on him.

"Checkmate!" Candice cried and looked across the table for her opponent's confirmation. Desiree glanced at the board looking for any possible escape from her king's apparent capture, but she had to concede.

"Well, Candice Carter, you are indeed a ruthless hunter, but I admire your integrity," said Desiree as she stood up and slowly bowed to her best friend. Candice popped up from her seat and snatched up Desiree's king. Clenching it in her fist Candice raised it high above her strawberry-blond hair as if to show power and superiority over Desiree and the rest of the world.

"Oh, yes! That's why I'm the most worthy opponent in this club," Candice proudly decreed. Her wavy, layered hair ruffled with every turn of her head. She then addressed the other players. "By the way, the same goes for the next fool who challenges me!"

Moans spontaneously rose from some of the other tables, but all heads remained bent over chessboards that topped several classroom tables. The reaction could have been a reply to Candice's threat, or perhaps because other kings were in jeopardy. Desiree reached up to retrieve her king piece from Candice's grasp.

"It sounds like the rest of the club doubts your malice," said Desiree as her long, strong fingers pried open Candice's hand. Candice wanted to savor her victory a little more, so she tried to hold on a little longer.

"Ow! Desiree, not only are you breaking my fingers, but you're also spoiling my victory dance," said Candice. She was a lot shorter than Desiree and had less leverage to keep her captured prize. But she finally gave in and released Desiree's king. She then put her hands on her hips and danced a quick jig while circling in place.

"Oh, yeah, look at me, I'm the best, in the west, no doubt, hear me out," she chanted, but this time her disturbance generated a few derogatory comments along with the moans.

Desiree politely flashed a smile as she gathered the rest of her chess pieces. She placed them carefully into a black, velvet sack. They were the typical size and weight of chess pieces with no fancy motif. But the dark pieces were actually a deep blue, and lighter pieces were cream-colored with gold flakes. They were a special gift from her beloved grandfather for her sixth birthday. She wasn't interested in chess at the time, but she still found the pieces intriguing as well as the story behind them.

Her grandfather found them in a remote, slot canyon he discovered in the Grand Canyon National Park. She could remember the tale of that canyon, and how he saw the most strikingly blue-colored mineral in the wall. He fancied off-trail hiking and never mentioned where this particular canyon was or how he happened upon it. Maybe he took a wrong turn. Maybe a sudden flash flood washed him there-she heard news reports of those kinds of mishaps during the Monsoon Season. He never chipped the pieces from the canyon wall. Instead, he found them lying on the ground. He said they seemed to be placed in an odd array with the creamy-gold nuggets opposite the blue ones-almost like chess pieces on a board. That's where he got the idea.

She loved his story telling. He always had a fantastic tale of adventure to accompany each souvenir. Whether the story was true or made up didn't matter. When she got the chess pieces she sat for hours on the backyard tire swing just holding them and reminiscing his tale. He promised to take her to that hidden canyon when she got older, and she couldn't wait for that day.

But just before she entered ninth grade he died from a blood infection. She didn't understand all the complicated, medical issues. All she knew was that he got an infection from a simple, stupid prick on his finger while pruning rose bushes in his backyard. It wasn't fair that he died that way-he was so much bigger, stronger and braver than those heinous, thorny plants. Her long-awaited opportunity to hike with her grandfather vanished like a krill in the jaws of a whale. Even now as a high school senior she still mourns his death and her unrealized dream.

A tear trickled down her cheek as she finished bagging the chess pieces. She sniffled and tightened the chess bag cord. Candice noticed and stopped dancing. She gently wrapped one arm around Desiree's shoulder.

"Sorry, Desiree, guess I overdid it. I never thought you'd take defeat so badly."

Desiree's image of her wiry, leather-skinned grandpa with bright turquoise eyes whisked away like smoke from a gust of wind. An annoyingly boastful classmate replaced it. Desiree wiped away her tear then glared back.

"Candice, I'm not going to get over it because, as they say, what doesn't kill me will make me want to beat the tar out of you next time." Candice stopped to think about Desiree's statement.

"Desiree, shouldn't it be what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?" Candice asked.

"Yeah, that, too," Desiree replied as she packed her school bag.

Candice scratched her head in confusion. Then the two hugged and laughed, but the shushing sounds accompanied by death threats caused them to scurry towards the classroom door. As boastful as Candice was, Desiree still cherished her friendship.

Candice helped Desiree get through a few, troubled teenage years. They've only known each other since ninth grade. They attended different middle schools, so their paths had never crossed until they stumbled upon each other-literally-at their adjoining, high school lockers.

On that day Candice had just opened hers to get a notebook, and all her softball equipment tumbled onto the hallway floor. It piled in front of Desiree just as she was running to class. With a resounding gasp she stumbled over the bats and softballs sending them into other lockers with loud, metallic bangs.

Desiree tried her hardest to maintain balance while negotiating all the rolling and bouncing hazards under her feet. All the noise she generated set off the security alarm. She fell to the floor while trying to grab any arm from the sea of students standing nearby. Miraculously Desiree landed softly onto her back. She hid her face hoping that no upper classmen noticed the commotion.

Fat chance! Everybody in the hall pointed and laughed at Desiree who was now buried in equipment wearing a catchers' mitt on her head. Candice, herself, couldn't help laughing. She caught her breath and extended her hand to help Desiree.

"That would be my fault." Candice confessed.

"Which senior set you up for this?" Desiree asked as she reached for Candice's hand.

"They could never be this creative. My name's Candice, by the way. Any broken bones?"

"Mine's Desiree, and, no, I don't think so," Desiree replied as she sat up and removed the mitt from her head, "but this hat that I'm wearing is way last...