The Bone Man (31 page)

Whoomp
. I blinked, adjusted to the moonlight, wiped the dust from my face. Just a small fall, into what looked like another circular room, this one lower than the others.

Laughter, coming from behind me.

I pushed myself to my feet, reached into my pocked.

The Taser was gone!

I scrambled on all fours, feeling the crusty earth, rocks, dried grasses, droplets of rain. Nothing.
Nothing. NOTHING!

Now what? Oh, cripes.

I would not let this son of a bitch do me in. No way.

I crouched low, listened. Okay, he didn’t know exactly where I was.

Bullets. A hail of them. I ducked.

But, no, he didn’t have my location. He was heading off in another direction. I could go back, try to free Hank and Aric.

I should wait, listen. Just for a minute.

I sat, huddled, arms around my knees. I hugged myself,
tried to find that quiet place I knew existed that was safe and serene. Just for a minute. My head felt light, woozy.

I rubbed my temples. Was I going crazy?

Think practical
. Right. I tried to picture the kiva, the maps. Cripes. All I could see was the stupid sign saying
DON’T CLIMB PREHISTORIC STAIRWAYS—VERY DANGEROUS
.

They hadn’t looked that dangerous in the picture I’d seen. I’d bet the sign was for their protection, not the climber’s.

I tilted my head back. Oh, my—the blanket of stars. They were there as always. Beautiful. Wonderful. A freshening breeze caressed my cheek, oddly warmer than the night.

The stairs
. A whisper.

The . . . stairs
.

I was hearing that, as if in a dream.

I grew calm, quiet, tried to listen to words that felt inside me, yet . . . whispers on the wind. Maybe I was living my end, where, they say, clarity drowned one in truth. I strained to hear. The desert sounds, the rustling and scratching and small yips and chirps all receded.

The air grew even clearer. Softer, warmer, yet charged with electricity. Chaco glowed.

My head swirled, and there, in front of me—Chaco as it once had been.

She was magnificent, with her people busy building, cooking, dancing, worshiping. The great houses wore roofs, and some of her people wore much finery. And over there, macaws—three of them—had leashes of leather on their feet. They sat on perches and watched, their heads swiveling back and forth.

I was dreaming . . . I was crazy . . . what . . .

To my right, the canyon walls glittered red and yellow and ochre in the blinding sun. A stream, clear and melodic, wove beside the canyon wall. Where some small trees grew, a man, a warrior, walked to a woman, young
and fair who had a twisted foot and hair down to her thighs.

He kneeled before her. She nodded, then rested her hands on his shoulders. She kneeled, too, and they kissed and made love by the stream.

What was going on?
I rubbed the cut made by the potsherd that had sliced my palm. Except my palm felt smooth. No cut. I held up my left hand. Nothing. My other palm was uninjured, too.

I held up both hands, and the sun felt warm on the backs, my fingers, all warm. This couldn’t be real, yet . . .

I stepped toward the couple, wishing to be closer, to understand what they understood.

When they were sated, he leaned over her and plucked a string of brilliant yellow desert roses that vined across a rock. He wove it through her hair, and they laughed, and then they made love again.

Where was I in all this? A voyeur, yet somehow I was a part of it, too. I didn’t really understand, except the same warmth beamed down on me, healing my body, my heart, my soul.

Time to go!
the warrior said. He looked above Chetro Ketl, to a tall, winding stair cut from the cliff rock itself.
Time to go!

The girl shook her head.
Not yet!

Now
. He reached down for her and helped her up. He handed her the carved crutch she carried always.

You will die
, she said.

I will be safe
, he said.

She shook her head, fought the tears that dripped from her eyes.

Yes
, he repeated. He reached for the amulet pouch that hung from his neck. He widened the leather thong and reached inside. He pulled out something and hid it in his hand.

What?
she said.

See?
He unfolded his hand.

On his palm rested a fetish. Crudely shaped, but smooth and cared for. It was blood red and glittered in the noon sun, like a ruby. A line humped its back—a tail bent upwards. The body was long, lean, with a rounded head.

I carved it. For safety. Mountain lion will keep me safe.

What is mountain lion?

You will see when we go to the new place in the South. Dowa Yalanne. I have heard of it. We will make our home there. You will see. But for now
, he said,
I must go
.

They kissed again, passion incredible, and when they parted, her face was wet with tears.

But her eyes, brown and liquid, glittered with hope.

She raised . . .

Gunfire!

I shook my head. What had I been doing? Where was I? Where was the sun? But it wasn’t day, it was night. Not then, but now.

The canyon, now. The breeze, sharp and biting.

But the stairs. I’d seen them in my vision. I knew they were there. I turned. If I went straight . . . The moon shined on a glitter path. Yes, if I went straight, I would find them.

A bullet whooshed by my cheek.

I ran.

Laughter followed. “I know this place, little lady,” he said. “You ain’t gonna get out. No, you ain’t. So I’m just gonna wait.”

I stopped, bent over and caught my breath. My side ached. Now what? Ummm. I turned, so the wind slapped my face. I climbed up onto a hump of sandstone and hoped he could see me,
and
that I was out of range. “Oh, you’re so wrong, Dumb Dick. I know of a place. One that will lead me to freedom.”

“Why the hell are you callin’ me that, goddammit? I’m not dumb.”

“Sure you are, Dumb Dick.” I laughed, hard, leapt off the rock, landed in my usual awkward manner.

“Where ya goin’, little lady?”

This time I crouched. “Oh, Dumb Dick, I’m going up, up, and away!”

A beam of light cut the night. It wove back and forth. I had to be crazy, but . . . I believed my vision. This was Chaco, after all.

I stepped forward, let the light catch me, then turned and ran. Then I stopped, flattened myself on the ground, and Dumb Dick peppered the night with bullets, just as I had imagined he would.

It actually felt good, lying on the sandy earth, some nasty clumps of something pricking my belly. Then again, maybe he’d just walk right up and shoot me.

I pushed myself up and ran forward, hollering “Catch me if you can, sucka!”

I ran through halls and tunnels and across kivas round and square. Like some party maze, it seemed to go on forever and ever.

I ran straight into a cliff projection and was flattened.

I saw stars, and not the celestial kind. I lay there on my back, took a couple breaths, rolled on my side and staggered to my feet. I felt giddy with frustration.

If he didn’t get me, I’d get myself.

Now if I could only find the stairs. I saw them so clearly in my mind.

I flattened my hands on the sandstone, searching for the stairs in the dark where an overhang might hide me.

I inched along sideways, hands pressed against the cliff wall, feet trying to find purchase on the uneven, rock-strewn ground, all the time listening, listening for Dumb Dick.

He was there, shining his beam of light to my right, while I moved left. I sure as hell hoped I was going the correct way. My left knee, the bum one, ached. But it held.
My hands stung from the scrapes and bruises. Yet I didn’t care. I couldn’t quite believe I was still standing.

Seconds later, I wasn’t, as I tumbled to my left, into another hole.

“Gotcha!” Dumb Dick yelled.

He was right.

No Taser. I searched for some rocks.

Instead I found the stairs. I felt one, then the second, then another.

I slipped some stones into my jacket pockets. God, my fingers ached. Had to do it. I began to climb. I was amazed the stairs were so well cut and defined. The Chaco masons had been brilliant. How could these stairs possibly have lasted so long? Yet they felt marvelously intact. Thank heavens.

From the photo I’d seen of one stairway, it was a long, long way up to the top of the mesa. I sucked it up again, and climbed. “Come and get me, Dumb Dick.”

“You call me that again, and I’ll . . .” A shot rang out, then another.

“Up here, baby!” I hollered.

I paused, listened. He was coming.

I climbed. And climbed. And climbed. The stair was narrow, but not so that I could put out my two hands and touch both walls. I could almost feel the warrior guiding me. What a reassuring hallucination.

I loosened some stones. They cascaded down, and Dumb Dick hollered curses at me. My heart sped up, and I climbed faster.

The moon gave me enough light to see the twists and turns of the stair. Dumb Dick’s beam of light couldn’t follow me.

I paused, caught my breath. I was in the high desert, which meant altitude. And I was high up on the stairway. Really high. Yet from what little I could see, I sensed I was still far from the top. Down below, the stair vanished
around a curve. But I saw Dumb Dick’s light, heard more curses.

I climbed higher, panting, searching for breath.

I turned, looked down. Below, far below, Chaco spread out like a magic carpet in the moonlight. Stars, big as the kind kids stick on their ceilings, winked back at me. There was Chetro Ketl, the visitor center, and there, Pueblo Bonito. From up here, it looked . . . alien. As if visitors from long ago and far away had gifted man with this amazing creation of circles inside squares inside the shape of a D. Words always had been inadequate for this place.

A cloud drifted across the moon. I remembered my mission.

“Up here!” I shouted.

He didn’t answer, but I could see enough of the beam and its bobbing to know where he was. He was far below me. I couldn’t imagine what was taking him so long.

Again I heard cursing. He was coming on, getting nearer.

I had my rocks. I slipped my hand into my left pocket and pulled out a bunch of stones. As soon as I saw the light nearby, I’d crouch in a corner of the stair and pelt him with the things.

One more time. I could do this.

I leaned against one wall of the stairway. I was exhausted. I slid down the wall and sat, held my head in my hands.

A scream!

I jumped up, blinked over and over. What had happened?

Gunfire, more screams, a piercing yelp, then . . . silence.

I waited for a bit. “Dumb Dick?”

Only the wail of the wind answered me.

It could be a trick. Sure. But if I stayed where I was, unmoving, I’d freeze to death. At least, that’s how it felt. And I had to know. I couldn’t just sit there. Could not do it.

This was going to be hard. Really hard. Harder than going up.

The wind howled and clouds scudded across the sky.

Maybe I’d just sit here for a while. Yeah.

I sat down again. My teeth chattered. My knees did, too, and I thought of Hank and Aric, freezing in that small hallway.

I stood, gripped the rock in my left hand, moved to the other side of the stair and guided myself with my right.

Down I went.

Down and down and down, until I had to stop. I was dizzy and wobbly. I checked my jeans pocket and came up with two Jolly Ranchers. I unwrapped both and stuck them in my mouth.

Good God. Was I really eating Jolly Ranches on a Chaco Canyon staircase with a murderer waiting for me down below? I swallowed again and again. Felt good. Energized.

Down I went. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four. “Dumb Dick?”

The sky cleared, hushed. Light from the east, just a hint of it, but it washed out many of the eastern stars. Dawn was on its way. I had to hurry. No dark, no way to hide.

I almost ran down the stairs. Even with the twists and turns, I sensed when the floor of the canyon was near.

I stopped once more. “Dumb Dick?”

Nothing.

He wasn’t that clever, was he? Or patient?

The screams had sounded real.

I never prayed. Except right then it felt like I needed to. So I prayed for safety and goodness, and I talked to Buddha and Jesus and all the gods of Chaco.

I raced down the final stairs. If he were there, waiting, I’d surprise him with my speed.

I hit the floor of the canyon like a rocket, and then I tripped.

Flat on my face. My cheek stung, my shoulder ached, my knee. Geesh. My bad knee.

I rested just for a sec, then gathered myself into a ball
and turned to see what I’d tripped on in the watery morning light.

Dumb Dick lay there, crumpled, bloody, with a bone sticking out of his shin and a rock stabbing into his neck.

I inched forward. “Hey?”

He was dead, all right. Just beyond where the stair emptied into the canyon. He’d fallen amidst a jumble of rocks. That was the scream I’d heard. I didn’t see how, but I didn’t much care, either.

Just to be sure, I pressed two fingers against his carotid artery.

Silence. His skin was cold, clammy. I shrank back.

The flashlight was still on. It was one of those heavy-duty ones. I reached for it, and flashed the beam on his face.

Christmas
. I wished I hadn’t. His look of horror, stubbled gray beard, milky eyes, tooth poking through his upper lip.

I shook my head. Horrible. He would have killed me. But I still felt sorry for him. I’d been lucky to make it. That was all. Lucky.

I thought it was only right to thank the gods, and then I ran back toward Chetro Ketl and Hank.

Dawn was near. Streaks of red fingered the sky now lit with a pale light. I stumbled my way through the warren of rooms large and small, back to the tunnel in Chetro Ketl. I flicked off the flashlight. I didn’t really need it, and I didn’t want to be any more a target than necessary. As I crossed one of the larger kivas, the wind picked up, slapping my clothes and tangling my hair.