Fatalis (30 page)

The young woman scrambled behind Grand on her hands and knees. The churning water nearly reached her chest as the flood increased. She made it past the scientist, stumbled forward until she could get her feet under her, then ran into the darkness.

The big cat began to duck and wriggle to get away from the branch.

"
No
!" Grand cried and pushed harder, his feet braced behind him, against the side of the pipe. The animal's cries filled the conduit. So did its twisting struggles, which prevented the second cat from squeezing around it.

Grand saw the second cat finally give up trying to get past. It crouched and prepared to leap over the other cat.

This was it
, he told himself. He was going to have to release the first cat and run.

Suddenly, a second, deeper roar filled the pipe, sounds that didn't come from the cats or from Grand. When the massive flood hit seconds later, it filled the pipe more than halfway, slamming the cats one into the other and driving them forward while washing around them.

Grand immediately released the branch, bent to scoop up his belt, and was knocked back hard before he could find it. The waters washed him forward, back first, which may have prevented him from drowning. He was able to breathe by stretching out and floating on his back, his mouth facing up. Buffeted from side to side, he extended his arms to keep from being rammed against the walls of the conduit.

It was dark. Grand did not see or hear the cats. There was only the din of the flood. Thoughts came at him quickly and disconnectedly. He hoped that Hannah was all right; he knew they were both going to take a bad hit when they emerged from the pipe; and he was sorry he'd had to hurt the cat, as magnificent a creature as he'd ever seen. A creature whose right to life and to the earth itself transcended his own.

And there was another thought. A thought spurred by what he'd seen in the blockhouse. Confirmation of what he'd suspected and the certainty that there would be more death before this matter was concluded.

Grand's thoughts were cut short when he felt himself drop. The roar of the water changed from loud and thunderous to loud and strident. The dark of the pipe was replaced by sky, though he was still on his back. He was swept to his left, felt the grate against his shoulder, and reflexively grabbed it to break his fall. But Grand couldn't hold on and he hit the rocky ground hard. From cave falls he knew not to take the entire hit on his back and he immediately slapped-out, striking the ground with his arms extended and his hands palm-down. That helped brace him and spread the force of the impact. His shoulders and lower back still struck hard but at least he didn't break anything.

He also didn't come to a stop. Water continued to wash over him, pushed him toward the larger gully. He leaned on his right side and tried to swing over on his hands and knees but the water knocked him forward. He tumbled down the stony wall, water and branches pouring over him as he struggled to move away from the flow, toward the rear of the gully. He got out of the cascade, scratched at the wall with his left hand, and managed to pull himself to his feet.

"Hannah!" he cried.

There was no answer. He looked around in the dark.

"Here," she moaned.

He looked ahead and saw Hannah curled on her side several feet ahead of him in the gully.

Struggling forward as the water and debris spilled onto him, Grand reached Hannah's side. Water from the pipe flowed under and around her. Though her eyes were shut, she was breathing and coughing. Grand felt her neck. It didn't appear to be broken. It was probably all right to move her.

He slid his arms carefully under her legs and shoulders.

"Where are we?" she asked, her eyes still shut. It was as though she was waking from a dream.

"Outside the pipe," Grand told her. "Now hush. I'm going to get you out of here."

"Okay."

There was something sweet and trusting about the "
okay
."

Grand picked her up gently and, shielding her from the water with his body, carried her to the back of the gully.

Half-walking, halt-stumbling, but making sure that Hannah didn't hit the ground, Grand climbed from the channel.

He set her down on the soft grasses at the far end. Still barely conscious, Hannah moved her leg, her head, her arms. Except for a few cuts and bruises, she didn't appear to be seriously hurt.

"Where are the tigers?"

"I think they're staying inside. We're not a threat anymore," he said.

"Good… good."

Grand turned to look back at the pipe. The water continued to pour out but he saw no sign of the cats. He wasn't surprised. Once those claws and forelimbs dug into something, he didn't imagine there was very much that could dislodge them.

Grand sat on the grass to Hannah's left. He took her hand in his and held it as he caught his breath and thought about what he'd seen in the blockhouse. About the Chumash painting. About how it all made sense now.

Suddenly, the terrain began to brighten. Grand looked behind him as a light appeared in the sky. A moment later he heard the sounds of a rotor.

Less than a minute after that a chopper was settling down on the hilltop above the conduit.

When Frank Lyon's chopper arrived, he had spotted Grand and Hannah and immediately called Gearhart for medical assistance. While they waited, Grand had told the Special Ops supervisor everything he'd seen. Lyon listened without comment, then left them to find the blockhouse.

A half hour later. Sheriff Gearhart came in the second chopper along with a three-person emergency medical team. Protocol, established by Gearhart, required that an emergency medical unit be on active call when any search-and-rescue operation was underway in the county. The sheriff hadn't changed the EM status since his people started looking for engineers Greene and Roche. The four teams rotated every eight hours, during which time they had to be within the county and near transportation.

Gearhart talked to Lyon on the radio while two of the technicians treated Hannah Hughes by the gully. They had both been draped in warm, red wool blankets; a portable heater and work lights had been set up nearby. Hannah was lying on her back on a field air mattress. There was no need to stabilize her with plastic splints or straps, since a quick check revealed that nothing had been broken. The only reason Hannah wasn't on the phone to her office was because the cell phone had been washed away in the flood and Grand hadn't bothered to look for it She needed to take a break. They both did. It had been a long, strenuous couple of days and things were only going to get worse.

Grand was standing next to Hannah's air mattress. He was thinking about the encounter, about what he'd seen in the pipe. He was searching for habits, patterns, explanations, anything that would help him make sense of this. He'd already been checked by one of the emergency medical technicians. Except for bruises and lacerations on his hands, shoulders, and forehead, the scientist was in pretty good shape. The medic, an elderly white-haired woman named Mrs. May, was dressing the last of Grand's wounds and telling him that he should check himself into the hospital for the night, just for observation.

Grand appreciated her concern. These medics, all of them volunteers, did what they did because they cared about people.

The medics finished a few minutes later. Gearhart met them at the foot of the hill and spoke with them briefly. At his request they left the lights and heater and headed back toward the hillside to wait. Then Gearhart had a talk with the chopper pilot by radio.

This was the first time that Hannah and Grand were alone since he'd pulled her from the gully. Hannah propped herself painfully on an elbow. She winced but refused to lower herself back down.

"You shouldn't be doing that," Grand said. "Lie back down-"

"I'll be all right," she said, wincing. "Never retreat or you'll stay there. That's my motto."

Grand shook his head. He sat beside her and moved close with his legs stretched out. He pulled her toward him gently so she could lean against him.

"Is that better?" he asked.

"Much," she said. "Thanks."

He held her a little tighter.

"Now-will you tell me something?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.

"What did you see before the flood?" Hannah asked. "What was in that conduit?"

"There's a blockhouse," Grand told her.

"One of those concrete storage bunkers with big mushroom-cap tops and heavy metal doors?"

"Yes," he said. "The one we came across was an access point for workers to service the conduit system. There was mostly repair equipment in there-welders, bags of concrete and troughs for mixing it."

"That's all?" Hannah said.

Grand held her. He didn't answer her.

"Jim?"

"What I saw were scraps of bone, hair, and clothes," he told her. "I don't even know how many victims there were. A half-dozen, maybe more."

Hannah squeezed his hand.

"I'm not sure who everyone was, but there was part of a backpack like the one we found in the creek."

Just then Gearhart walked over. He looked down at the young woman.

"How are you?"

"Fine," Hannah said.

Gearhart looked at Grand. "You?"

"Apart from feeling like a cat toy, I'm okay," Grand said.

Gearhart seemed to be studying Grand, like his eyes were little x-ray machines.

"Where are we, by the way?" Grand asked.

"Nearly halfway between Gibraltar Reservoir and Jameson Lake," Gearhart said.

"That far east?" Grand said.

"That far east," the sheriff replied. "You did some serious traveling."

"Have you been able to check out the blockhouse?" Grand asked.

Gearhart nodded. "Lyon got the keypad access code from Dean Rede. He went in."

"Is it definitely the missing men?" Hannah asked.

"I can't say anything more until we've run tests and notified next of kin," Gearhart said.

"But it's definitely human remains," Hannah said.

Gearhart didn't answer. He continued to study Grand. "I'm more interested about what you saw in the conduits."

"We saw two saber-tooths," Grand said.

"You're sure."

"I'm positive."

"They weren't just big cats."

"No. And these animals are smart. One of them stayed behind and let us through. Then be came after us."

"And obviously went back into hiding," Gearhart said. "Lyon's chopper is circling the mountaintop. So far he hasn't seen a thing. Not even a bobcat."

"The bobcats are probably scared," Grand said. "They must have run. That's common when a powerful new carnivore moves into an ecosystem. The smaller predators start to sense what's out there."

"You have any idea where they're going?" Gearhart asked.

"Not exactly," Grand said. "But so far they've struck at the sinkhole on Painted Cave Road, the two beaches, the campsite, and the blockhouse. Except for the attack on the catamaran, which veered to the southwest, the cats have been moving southeast."

"But you don't know why."

"Not yet," Grand admitted. "But animals do things for a reason. If I were you I'd have Officer Lyon concentrate his search on caves, sinkholes, or drains in that direction."

"I'll do that," Gearhart said. "Is there anything else?"

"There is," Grand said.

Gearhart waited.

"You musn't hurt these animals. Call the Fish and Game people," Grand said. "Get them involved."

"They've been notified."

"No," Grand said. "You have to
tell
them what we have here. Tell them we've got to take these animals alive."

Gearhart pulled the radio from his belt. "Professor, my only interest is keeping
people
alive."

"I understand that," Grand said, "but with a little planning we can accomplish both."

Gearhart said nothing. "The pilot will evac you both. Can you make it up the mountainside?"

"Yes," Grand said. "But first I want your word that you'll work with me on this."

"If there's time."

"There is," Grand insisted. "If the saber-tooths are anything like modern cats, they'll find a new den and then they'll probably be finished moving for the night."

"Probably isn't good enough," Gearhart said.

"Even if they keep moving we'll have until tomorrow at sunset before they hunt again. And as long as we don't do anything to antagonize them, they may not kill anyone."

"Why?" Gearhart asked.

"Because there were only about six or seven victims in the blockhouse," Grand said. "It's possible the cats took the bodies from the campsite elsewhere."

"To eat later."

Grand said nothing.

"And you want me to save them," Gearhart said. "Whatever these animals are, this stops tonight."

Gearhart turned to go; Grand got up and stepped in front of him.

"Sheriff, please. Don't rush into this. It's not just for the sake of the animals but for the safety of your people. These cats have been moving with precision and intelligence. I told Lyon and I'm telling you. They use decoys and feints and they can jump farther than any creature alive today. Wherever they stop for the night it will be in a place they can protect."

"Maybe they can protect it from clubs and stone arrowheads, but I plan to go in with real firepower," Gearhart said. The sheriff stepped around him. "But thanks for the warning."

Gearhart turned and walked toward the hill, simultaneously radioing Lyon instructions about patrolling the southeastern section of the mountains.

Hannah watched him go. "I've said it before and I'm sure I'll be saying it again. He's a licensed bully."