A Treasure Deep (30 page)

no destination in mind, but then found
herself heading from town, toward the place she had last spoken to
Perry. The hour was late, but he might still be there. He was a man
consumed with a cause, and she suspected that sleep was a secondary
thought to him now.

Behind her, red lights flashed, and the wail
of a siren wafted through the closed windows of the car. Dutifully,
she pulled over, and the Tejon fire department drove by in a
pumper, ambulance, and chief’s car. Anne followed, and her
apprehension rose with each minute.

They were headed out of the city.

The fire department, like the police, was
handled by county departments. When she saw them turn onto the dirt
road that led to Perry’s site, her heart began to race. A new fear
inundated her mind.

PERRY SLID DOWN a slope of loose soil, descending
into a cloud of dust and diesel smoke. He tried to slow his descent
by digging the heels of his work boots into the dirt. It helped
some, but not much. What he had done was foolish. It was also
necessary. One of his men was in danger, perhaps injured, and Perry
wanted to waste no time in getting to him.

Perry stopped suddenly when his feet hit
something hard. Light from above filtered through the dust,
creating an eerie, fog-like scene. Pausing for a moment to be
certain he was no longer moving, Perry rose slowly, the video
camera in hand. He used the camera’s light like a flashlight. Most
of the light reflected back, diffused by floating particles of dust
and smoke. A dark shape loomed before him. Waving his hand in front
of his face, Perry tried to clear the air. It was a futile gesture.
The dirt would settle in its own time, and Perry could do nothing
about that.

He coughed then gagged. Perry pulled the
collar of his shirt over his mouth and used it as a breathing
filter.

The shape in front of him was tinted yellow
through the haze. He reached forward and laid a bare hand on the
metal. It was the underside of the rig. The backhoe was on its
side.

“Perry! Perry!”

Jack’s voice pierced the dark distance. Perry
had no idea how deep he was, but he knew that some sinkholes were
large enough to bury a ten-story building. “Yeah,” Perry shouted
back. “I’m okay.”

“I’m coming down,” Jack said.

“No, not yet. I may need you up there.”

There was no response, but Perry could
imagine Jack gritting his teeth. He was not one to sit on the
sidelines. Perry took a step forward and noticed that his feet were
buried in the loose soil. Walking was difficult, as if he were
slogging through shin-high snow. The smell of diesel fuel and oil
permeated the already choking atmosphere. Perry felt like he was on
another planet.

The backhoe was small compared to some, and
Perry was glad since he was now faced with scaling what had been
the underside of the powerful piece of equipment. Small or not, it
was heavy, and his biggest fear was that the machine had fallen on
his worker.

“Talk to me, Perry,” Jack said. It was more
an urgent order than a request. “Can you see Lenny?”

Lenny. At least now he knew the worker’s
name. “Not yet, the backhoe is on its right side. I’m at the
undercarriage.” Perry set the camera on the rear tire, its light
directed toward the overturned cab. The dust was starting to
settle, and Perry could see the outrigger used to stabilize the
tractor reaching skyward like a man’s outstretched hand grasping
for help. He placed both hands on the edge of the foot rail and
pulled himself up, kicking his feet to gain the extra inch or two
needed to throw his leg over the side. If the backhoe were in its
normal upright position, the handhold that Perry used would be the
rig’s footstep.

It was a struggle but Perry soon positioned
himself so that he could see into the open cab. It had no windows,
just a metal roof supported by corner posts. The supports were bent
at an odd angle. Perry saw Lenny lying on his back, unmoving.

“Lenny,” Perry said. “You with me,
buddy?”

There was no answer, and Perry feared the
worst. “I found him,” Perry shouted to his friends. “He’s not
moving. I’m going to try to get to him.”

Using the cab supports, Perry lowered himself
to the injured man, straddling his prone body. He felt for a pulse
and found one. He strained his eyes to peer through the darkness.
Standing again he reached up and took hold of the video camera,
aiming its light at the injured man. Blood trickled from his
forehead and left ear. Not good, Perry decided.

In the distance, the squeal of sirens grew
louder. “We’re going to need a backboard to get him out
safely!”

“There’s no need to yell,” Jack said. The
voice came from a foot behind him, and Perry jumped. “I’m right
here.”

“I thought I told you to stay topside,” Perry
said.

“Did you? Must’ve missed it.”

“You’re impetuous, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking,” Jack retorted. He was
standing awkwardly on the side of the cab. “How is he?”

“Head injury of some sort. There’s blood from
his ears. We need an air ambulance. The best hospital is going to
be in Bakersfield.”

“Agreed.”

“How big is the hole?” Perry asked.

“I’m guessing we’re down forty or fifty feet
from grade,” Jack said. “I didn’t take time to measure the opening,
but I’m betting that this thing is as wide as it is deep.”

“That’s big. Why didn’t we see it
coming?”

“No idea, Perry. You’d think the surveys
would have given some clue.”

“We’ll deal with that later. We’re going to
have to cut away the cab,” Perry said, patting the steel uprights.
“We can’t fit a backboard in here, put Lenny on it, and pull him up
without moving him in ways that would make his condition
worse.”

“The firemen should have an extrication saw
or something. If not, we have a plasma torch on-site. That should
do the trick.”

A voice from above: “The fire department is
on scene.” It was Gleason. “I sent Brent down to the road to guide
them up.”

“Good,” Perry shouted. “Good. Lower some
lights to Jack.” He returned his attention to the unconscious man
at his feet and felt helpless. He removed his shirt and laid it
over Lenny to help keep him warm. There was nothing to do now but
pray. And Perry did.

PERRY WAS THE last one out of the sinkhole, insisting
that Lenny and the paramedics go first. The injured worker had not
regained consciousness, and Perry could read the concern on the
faces of the emergency personnel. They’d bravely lowered themselves
into the hole, which still rumbled occasionally. If the situation
and noises frightened them, they didn’t show it. That made them
heroes in Perry’s eyes.

He watched as they placed a padded cervical
collar around Lenny’s neck and checked his vitals. Deciding that
the hole was still dangerous, they opted to move him as quickly as
possible. Perry helped them gently slide a rigid backboard beneath
Lenny’s back and strap his body and head to it, immobilizing him to
avoid additional injury. An aluminum litter was lowered, and the
patient, still strapped to the backboard, was placed in it. The
firemen above pulled the stretcher up, guided by the
paramedics.

Moments later, the medics and Jack were
assisted out, then Perry started up the side, holding tight to a
rope that was anchored around Jack’s massive body. He found a sense
of security in that. Once out of the hole, Perry ordered everyone
back from the sinkhole’s rim.

Perry struggled to breathe. The dust and
smoke had filled his lungs and now his chest hurt with each
inhalation. His clothing—and his face—were covered in dirt several
layers thick. He coughed again, clearing his throat. Jack joined
him.

“Here,” he said, “take some of this.” He held
out a clear plastic medical mask with a plastic tube running from
it. It was an oxygen mask. Perry took it gladly. “The paramedics
said we could return it tomorrow.”

“Lenny in the ambulance?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “They’re taking him to the
same place our helicopter landed yesterday. An air ambulance is on
the way.” Even as Jack spoke, the solid thumping of rotors filled
the hills.

After a few deep inhalations of oxygen, Perry
turned to the wide hole in the middle of the pasture. “How did this
happen, Jack? Why didn’t the GPR and other surveys show the kind of
geological weakness that would cause this?”

“The weakness may have been too deep,” Jack
replied. “Or . . .” he trailed off.

“Or what?”

“Maybe it wasn’t a function of nature. Maybe
it was intentional.”

Perry studied his friend for a moment trying
to determine if he was making a joke. “Intentional? Like a booby
trap?” He began to dust himself off. “That would have to be the
world’s biggest animal trap, Jack.”

“I know, but take a look at it.”

Perry stepped back to the edge of the
depression. Below he could see the backhoe lying on its side like a
sick elephant, a full quarter of it buried in loose soil. He let
his eyes trace the rugged edge of the pit. It hit him. “It’s
rectangular.”

“I was under the impression that sinkholes
generally collapsed in a circular or oval shape, not a rectangular
one. At least I don’t ever recall seeing a rectangular
sinkhole.”

“Me neither. How long before we can get a
geologist out here?” Perry asked.

“I bet we could have one by noon
tomorrow.”

“Let’s do it,” Perry said then examined the
site again. “I suppose it could be done, although I don’t know how.
That would have been a lot of work.”

“So were the pyramids,” Jack rebutted. “Given
enough time and enough people, almost anything is possible.”

“What triggered it? The weight of the
backhoe? I doubt an ancient people could have imagined a device
like a backhoe.”

“Not weight,” Jack said. “Something
else.”

Perry thought for a moment. “The
digging.”

“Right,” Jack said. “Digging is digging, no
matter how it’s done. Dirt is moved. We’re just a few meters from
the leading edge of our target. If we were digging by hand the
ground would have given away at some point.”

“But the size, Jack. It’s enormous.”

“A lot of years have passed since then; who
knows what has happened below grades. Centuries of water
percolation could have enlarged the underlying cavity.”

“It’s something to look into,” Perry said.
“In the meantime . . .”

“I should arrest you,” a familiar voice said.
Perry turned slightly and saw Montulli walking up the grade.

“I wondered where you went,” Perry said.
“Arrest me? Why? Did I double-park?”

“You know why. I told you stay put. You could
have been killed down there.”

“If it’s any comfort, Sergeant, I told Jack
to stay out of the pit too, and he came in anyway.”

“You two deserve each other,” Montulli
snapped. A moment later he asked, “You okay?”

Perry said he was.

“Okay, I guess I’ll let your total disregard
for my authority in a disaster area go this time,” he said, nodding
at the downed backhoe. “How are you going to get that out?”

“We’ll have to tow it out with the dozer,”
Perry said, “but not until after a geologist looks at things.”

“So you’re shut down for a while,” Montulli
said. “Again. That’ll disappoint the crowd.”

“They’re still there?” Perry said. “At this
hour?”

“They’ve thinned some,” Montulli explained,
“but they’ll be back tomorrow. With all the excitement, there may
be even more of them. You’re the best entertainment in the
county.”

“Great,” Perry said as he pondered what to do
next. “The last thing we need to be is someone’s
entertainment.”

In truth, the crowd bothered him less than
the decision he needed to make next. In any other circumstance, he
would halt the project until a complete investigation had been
performed. But this was not a typical project. So far his secrecy
had been compromised, confidential documents had been stolen,
crowds were gathered just out of sight, a man had been killed and
another injured. Add to all those things that history had just been
turned on its ear by the finds already made, and Perry realized
that the situation was not going to get any better. Stopping work
might actually make things worse.

“Jack,” Perry said, “I want to meet with you,
Gleason, and Dr. Curtis. Send as many of the crew you can spare
back to the motel for the night. I want everyone here tomorrow, but
let them sleep in a little.”

“Will do,” Jack said. “You still want the
geologist?”

“Absolutely, and the sooner the better;
however, our primary goal has to be reached soon. Additional work
can carry on after that.” He paused then said, “Let’s meet in the
trailer. Where is Gleason?”

“He and Brent went down to the ambulance with
Lenny,” Jack explained. “He said he’d follow them to the landing
spot and come back once the air ambulance was on its way. They
should be back soon.”

“Good,” Perry said. He lowered his head,
something he did when his mind kicked into high gear. “Brent can
wait out here. I want it to be just the four of us.”

“I understand.” Jack motioned to the oak
grove office. “I think someone else wants to meet with you.”

Perry raised his head and directed his weary
eyes in the direction Jack indicated. Anne was standing in the
penumbra created by the work lights. Her hands were folded in front
of her, and even at this distance she looked tense.

“I found her in the crowd when I was coming
back up from the ambulance,” Montulli explained. “She wasn’t able
to get past my deputies. She said she wanted to talk to you.”

“Demanded, don’t you mean?” Perry said.

“Not at all. In fact, she seemed . . .
different. Reserved. I thought she’d be livid about having been
kept away from the accident site, but she wasn’t. Emotionally up
one moment, down the next. They have a word for that.
Mercury-something-or-the-other.”