Black Mountain (2 page)

*

Present day

Alex was miles beneath the surface. He stared up at a shimmering mirage of blue light. He clamped his lips shut. Panic was a heartbeat away, and the more he tried to break free, the tighter he was trapped by the black coils of slimy rope that bound his arms and legs, wrapped around his chest and coated his face. He was aware his burning lungs would soon give out, but he dared not open his mouth even to scream, as he knew the mucous-covered strands would find their way inside.

He was dragged deeper down; his feet sinking into the primordial ooze of the lightless depths. With his last fragments of energy he sprang towards the surface. Last time, last chance – he needed to breathe; he wanted to live.

TWO

Southern Appalachians, North Carolina

‘I’m cold.’ Amanda Jordan put her gloved fists under her arms and gave a little hop to cross yet another puddle of melting snow, trying to keep pace with the long legs of her new husband. The tiny pink metallic camera she had on a cord around her neck bounced against her parka as she skidded on some dark ice.

Brad Jordan turned to walk backwards a few steps, the snow squeaking under the tough rubber soles of his new boots. He pulled a face and scoffed, ‘Big baby – and it’ll get colder further up.’ Then added quickly, ‘But it’ll be worth it, I promise.’

Amanda raised her eyebrows and tried to laugh, but just ended up coughing. She sucked in another stinging breath and exhaled, her breath steaming in the cold, dry air. She grimaced – even stretching her face hurt. When she dabbed her bottom lip with the back of one gloved hand, she saw a dot of red smeared on its waterproof coating. Damn, she thought, regretting not putting on some lip balm before they left.

Some holiday, she thought grouchily. She felt terrible. Under her bulky clothing, her armpits, back and groin were sweating from the exertion of the climb, but the chilly thirty-degree air was stinging her nose, chin and ears like they were being pricked by a hundred needles. She bet they were as red as beets. If that wasn’t enough, she hadn’t worn her ski cap. Brad liked her thick hair and she’d wanted him to admire it in the sunlight. Now she didn’t care what he thought – she just wanted a big hat she could pull down over her ears to keep them warm.

‘Brad, can we at least stop for some coffee soon?’

He turned and stretched out his arms. ‘Great idea.’ He looked around and spotted a flat rock just off the trail. ‘Over there.’

Brad shrugged out of the large backpack and lowered it to the stone. He was a big man – six-two, and broad across the back. Amanda often said he looked like a big, jug-eared Ben Affleck. He’d offered to carry everything on their way up and seemed to haul the weight with ease. He eased himself down and patted the rock beside him, then opened the backpack.

Amanda sat down heavily and frowned. She pulled off one of her gloves and laid her bare hand on the stone. ‘It’s warm.’

‘Yep. Sun’s directly overhead, and the stone only needs to catch a few rays to make it a degree or two warmer than the surroundings. Not much, but feels kinda good, huh?’

He pulled the thermos free and pushed his hand back down into the depths of the backpack.

Amanda pulled off her other glove, rolled over and hugged the stone, pressing her face to its warm surface. ‘Blissssss,’ she sighed.

Brad lay down on his side next to her. ‘How’re the feet? We’ve already been trekking for half a day – not bad for a city girl.’

Amanda rolled onto her back and put her hands behind her head. ‘City slicker, huh? I’m from Greensboro, remember, not New York, and I’ve been hiking before. The feet are just fine.’ She sat up. ‘Now where’s that coffee I ordered, you big moose?’

He laughed as he handed her a cup of steaming liquid. ‘I forgot, they breed ’em tough in the Boro, and you’re a regular Calamity Jane, aren’t you?’

She sipped the coffee, and winced as the hot liquid touched her lip. ‘Damn right I’m tough. So, Bill Bunyan, how much further?’

Brad pulled up his sleeve, displaying a variety of dials strapped to his wrist. He consulted them, then nodded at the landscape. ‘Notice the darker trees, the Fraser fir and red spruce crowns – we’ve been into them for quite a while. Altimeter says we’re at six one-twenty feet – that’s high. Peak’s supposed to be sixty-three twenty-seven . . . but we’re not going there – way too easy.’

Amanda’s lip curled in displeasure. ‘Oh really? Brad, I said I was tough, not stupid. I’m cold – how much further?’

Brad pulled a face back at her and leaned in close, as though worried about being overheard in the isolated wilderness. ‘Did you read about the recent tremors and resulting landslips in the mountains? Well, I have it on good authority that a slip’s opened up a new path to the Black Dome – absolutely the highest point in the whole Southern Appalachians. Think of it – we’ll probably be the first people up there since the mid-1800s . . . and it’s only a bit further than the lookout peak.’

Amanda groaned, refusing to be infected by his enthusiasm. ‘
Sooo
, how much further?’

He shrugged and turned away to pour himself some coffee, saying something Amanda couldn’t make out.

‘What? I didn’t hear you. Come on, Brad, how much higher do we need to go?’

He turned back to her, his cheeks slightly red. ‘Eight hundred feet.’ He lifted his mug in a salute. ‘Maybe one more hour, max. I promise.’

Amanda lay back down on the rock. ‘God, where’s the ski lift? You are so rubbing my feet tonight, Bradley Henry Jordan.’

He tipped out the dregs of his coffee and lay down next to her. ‘I’d have done that anyway – I’ll rub everything, promise. Besides, on the way back its
all
downhill –
eeeeeaasy
.’

She laughed.
Putty in his hands
, she thought and sighed, knowing she’d just agreed to the extra trek. ‘So how do we get to this Black Dome . . . and more importantly, is it safe?’

Brad rummaged around in his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it on the rock next to her and traced some lines with his finger. ‘Here’s where I reckon we are, and this is where we’d normally be able to get access to.’

The paper showed a rough sketch of the mountain peaks with a trail winding up the east face. It then changed to a dotted line marked with zigzags for rockfalls and an underlined notation that said
New Pathway
. Amanda noticed some groupings of small red crosses near the mountain’s crest.

‘What do these mean?’

‘Nothing important.’

‘Well, what? Soda machines, phone booths?’

Brad cleared his throat. ‘Probably points of interest – lookouts maybe.’ He shrugged. ‘Not sure; it’s not my map.’

Amanda sat up straight and stared at him for several seconds. He kept his gaze on the map, refusing to look at her even though he must have felt the intensity of her gaze. Eventually he turned to her with his usual infectious grin, his thumb and forefinger held up less than an inch apart.

‘This far, that’s all.’

She nodded slowly, still not convinced he was telling her everything.
Still, one more hour can’t hurt
, she thought, and tossed him her empty cup.

*

Brad watched Amanda smack a low branch out of the way as she set off. Even in the bulky cold-weather gear, her tight little figure was visible beneath all the layers. He smiled as he watched for a moment longer, then rolled up his sleeve to check his altimeter and compass again. The dials were illuminated due to the poor light. He looked up and frowned: the sun hadn’t reappeared and the low cloud was darker than he would have liked. If it snowed, or got any colder, Amanda would kill him. The trek was turning out to be miles longer than he’d expected, and now he was thinking that they’d be trekking back in the dark for sure. He chewed his lip. If the advice he’d been given was right, it should be less than an hour now to the landslip that had created a short cut to the top of the Black Dome. Maybe he should lift the pace a bit.

He hoisted the pack a little higher on his back and adjusted his belt. As he did, the gun he was carrying dug into his gut. The red crosses on the map indicated bear sightings. Seemed the large animals were on the move early this season.
On the move away from where we’re going
, he thought,
which is good
. He’d heard that even the wolves had been coming down off the mountain.
Even better
.

Still, it was better to have a gun and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

*

They looked at the landslip – tons of rock and soil that had been shaken free from the side of the mountain and had settled to create an uneven path up the once inaccessible rock face. Normally this was the spot where hikers gave up and professional climbers took over, but now, even to Amanda, it looked . . . well . . . possible.

Brad had picked up a stick about four feet long and was pointing it at a few places along the slip. ‘We just need to ease across that small gap at the start, then drop down onto the path and stay close to the cliff face – it’ll be a piece of cake.’

He leaned in against the stone and hopped across the gap, then turned back to her and held out the stick for her to grab onto and follow. As Amanda leaped across, she noticed that the newly exposed rock was clean – the stark browns and grey of the gneiss and schist probably only laid open to the elements within the last few weeks. A fanciful thought crossed her mind: it looked painful, like a wound cut through to the bone.

Amanda kept hold of the stick and used it as a walking staff. As she moved along the dry wall of stone, she observed crevices and holes in the rock face exposed by the loss of surface soil and debris. Some of them looked deep, and she bent down to peer into one. Even though she put her hands on either side of her face and squinted, it didn’t do any good; there was nothing to see but inky blackness.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Phew, smells like something died or pooped in there.’

Brad looked back at her. ‘Maybe a falcon, they like to nest in rock faces. Come on, keep up.’

Amanda turned to look out from the mountainside. At over 6000 feet and without the trees to block the view, it was spectacular. True to the name, the mountain looked almost black in the fading light. Low cloud vapour was snaking through the hollows and around the treetops, giving the whole place a primordial atmosphere. She lifted the camera from around her neck and opened the zoom – it buzzed and clicked as it took the snap, then tidied itself away.

It was almost magical to be able to look down on the other mountains from this height. She leaned out towards the edge of the slip – it was a long way down, at least a 1000-foot drop before the slope became a little gentler and tree-covered again.

‘
Halloooooo
,’ she called.

The word stretched out and she waited, but no echo came back to her. She sucked in a huge breath, preparing for an even bigger shout, when Brad swung around pulling a pained face. As he put his finger to his lips, a rock the size of a mailbox thumped into the dirt between them. They looked at each other with wide eyes . . . and waited. Amanda drew her shoulders up and gritted her teeth – she’d forgotten they were in a slip zone.

Brad came back to her. ‘It’s pretty stable,’ he whispered, ‘but there could be loose debris that may fall. Best not to bust out with any more karaoke right now, okay?’

She nodded and went to step over the stone that had fallen. She frowned, tapped it with her stick, then squatted.
Odd, it doesn’t look like a raw boulder.
The stone seemed to have been shaped, squared, like a large cinderblock, she thought. She brushed it with her hand – and noticed the symbols carved into it.

‘Hey, look at this,’ she called.

Brad kneeled beside her and pulled the stone out of its slush and dirt crater. He turned it over – the symbols were on all four sides. ‘Old. Looks Native American – a figure behind two arrows, one pointing left, the other right. Makes sense – the Black Dome was actually called
Attakulla
, after a Cherokee Indian chief, long before we palefaces renamed it.’

Amanda brushed more soil out of the carving. ‘Is that a man?’

‘Nah, don’t think so; arms are too long. Looks sorta deformed though. See all those other little marks carved into it? Might be symbols, or just where the stone was cut.’

Amanda sat back on her haunches. ‘Well, it’s very cool – we should take it back with us.’

Brad looked at her with half-lidded eyes. ‘My little angel, I know who you mean when you say “we”. This piece of stone probably weighs about forty pounds. I’ll end up a hunchback if I try lugging it down over 6000 feet of mountain.’

‘But it’s all downhill on the way back, remember? Like you said, it’ll be
eeeeeasy
. Besides, I have the perfect place for it beside the fireplace.’

Brad groaned. ‘Let’s leave it for now and have another look on the way back, okay?’

‘Good idea, I’m sure it’ll be lighter then.’ She patted his shoulder, then used it to get to her feet. She looked up at the sheer rock wall above them. ‘Wonder where it came from? It looks like a giant house brick.’

Brad scanned the rock wall where it had been scoured by the slippage. ‘There.’ He pointed to an area half-hidden by a small ledge and a tangle of fallen bushes. He squinted. ‘Looks like more of them up there.’

Amanda followed his directions about thirty feet straight up, and saw the other stones – dozens of them, stacked one on top of the other, bricking in a natural cavity in the rock wall that had been exposed by the earth sliding away. It was roughly triangular shaped and about nine feet in height. She could see a small dark hole near the top where the fallen stone had come from. She stepped back, closer to the edge of the path, to get a better look.

‘The cave’s been sealed off – did the Native Americans build walls like that? I thought they only made stone burial mounds.’

‘Sure they did. Different tribes built walls for everything from agriculture to defence. In fact, I read archaeologists just found an ancient Indian wall submerged beneath the Hudson River – running 900 feet end to end.’ Brad stepped back as well. ‘Maybe this was a grain store they needed to hide. Around here, the Catawba and Cherokee were always at war with someone.’