The Secret of the Desert Stone (6 page)

“Are we safe?” Dr. Henderson pleaded.

An angry burst of wind came up under one wing and almost flipped the plane over. “Not yet,” said Dr. Cooper, trying to hold the plane steady.

Below them, the sharp edge of the Stone appeared to rotate, tilt, rise, and fall as the airplane was tossed about like a leaf in the wind. The Cessna roared, climbed, struggled, clawed for altitude. Another blast of wind carried it sideways.

“Dad, what is it?” Jay asked. “What's happening?”

“Heat-generated updrafts,” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “Convergence, convection, wind shear, I don't know—the Stone's affecting the weather.”

The plane lurched sideways, twisting, banking, creaking in every joint. A cloud of snow and ice boiled beneath them like an angry white ocean. Dr. Cooper turned the plane eastward, trying to climb above the storm. Below them, the east edge of the Stone came no closer. The wind was so strong they were standing still!

Then the edge of the Stone began to retreat from them. The wind was blowing them backward!

“Oh, brother,” said Dr. Cooper.

“What?” Dr. Henderson cried.

“We're in for a ride. Hang on.”

“Can't you do something?”

“If I try to fight against this turbulence, the plane will break apart! We just have to ride it out!”

He eased the throttle back to slow the airplane down, then turned it westward to fly with the wind and get clear of the Stone. The Stone was hidden now beneath an angry mantle of storm clouds, but they could see the clouds breaking over its western edge like water flowing over a waterfall.

“Wind shear,” said Dr. Cooper.

“Oh, no,” whined Dr. Henderson.

Suddenly, the clouds seemed to suck them down, and they dropped into a nether world of pure white cotton on all sides with no up, no down, no sense of direction.

The altimeter was spinning backward, and they could feel the pressure of the atmosphere building against their ears. Eleven thousand, said the altimeter. Ten thousand. Nine.

They were helpless in a violent downdraft, tossed, twisted, thrown about in the clouds.

Eight thousand. Seven. Six.

And there was nothing they could do, except pray.

FIVE

D
r. Cooper had only one course of action available to him, and that was to fly the plane—just keep it under control, keep it flying. The plane was being knocked all over the sky. They braced themselves against the walls of the cabin, the seats, the floor, and each other, and still the plane plummeted earthward. As clouds whipped past the windshield and the plane quivered with every new gust of wind, Jacob Cooper kept an iron hand on the control yoke and the throttle, watching the airspeed and altimeter and making no sudden moves.

They knew that the Stone had to be out there somewhere in all those boiling clouds, but just how close was it? A collision would be no contest.

“Dear Jesus,” Lila prayed out loud, “we're in your hands.”

Suddenly, light burst through the windows as they dropped out of the clouds into clear air.

“
Yes!
” Jay shouted.

They could see the ground, and it looked awfully close. But the altimeter was no longer winding down. The violent downdraft was contacting the ground and turning sideways, becoming a powerful wind.

But where was the Stone? Every head twisted left and right trying to find it.

“There it is!” Jay shouted. “Nine o'clock!”

They could see the huge wall, dark and ominous in the cloudy gray light, stretching from the earth into the clouds. It appeared to be at least a mile away, and the good news was that the wind had carried them away from the Stone, not toward it.

Just then, they saw grass roofs slipping quickly by below them. Cattle. People.

“The Motosa village!” said Jay. “We're right above it!”

The engine sputtered and coughed. “Well,” said Dr. Cooper, fiddling with the knobs and ignition, “what do you know!”

“What?” asked Dr. Henderson.

“We've lost the engine.”

“What?”

“Carburetor ice, I suppose, or a broken fuel line. Hang on. I'm setting up for a landing.”

Dr. Cooper turned the plane into the wind and aimed for a stretch of flat ground. The gusty, unpredictable wind lifted the plane, then dropped it, then knocked it sideways. “Check your seat belts!”

By now, they couldn't get their seat belts any tighter.

The wind dropped suddenly and so did the plane, so abruptly they could feel it in their stomachs. The desert floor rushed up at them, only thirty feet below, then twenty, then ten. Dr. Cooper fought for control as sagebrush, grass, and stones raced by below the wheels.

WHAM!
The wind slammed the plane into the ground. The wheels bounced, the plane floated up again, then fell again, the wheels digging into the soft earth, kicking up dust, gouging out ruts. Dr. Cooper pulled back on the control yoke to keep the plane from nosing over as it swerved, bucked, bounced, and rumbled over the ground.

IMPACT!
The right wheel hit a large rock. The plane spun in a circle, tilting wildly, the left wingtip clipping the top of a bush. Then the right wheel strut gave way, and the plane collapsed to the ground in a cloud of dust.

And then it was over. The plane sat amid desert stones and scraggly, yellow grass. It was quiet and still now, one strut broken and the right wingtip resting on the ground.

Jay and Lila relaxed, sat up, and looked around, letting out an audible breath of relief.

Dr. Henderson was all folded up with her arms clamped around her head. Only after a long, uninterrupted moment of silence and stillness did she slowly, timidly unwrap herself and come up for a look.

Dr. Cooper still had one hand clamped around the control yoke as he went through his shut-down checklist, flipping switches, turning knobs, shifting levers. In seconds, the aircraft was secure. Then he rested back in his seat, relaxed for the first time in what seemed an eternity of terror, and prayed in a quiet voice, “Ohhh, thank you, Lord, for a safe landing!”

“Thank you, Lord,” Lila agreed.

“Thaaaank
you,”
said Jay.

“Well, you can sit here and pray if you want,”said Dr. Henderson, “but
I'm
getting out of this plane!”

Click, clack,
their seat belts came loose and they piled out the doors, Dr. Henderson and Jay having to duck under the drooping wing on the right side.

“OWW!” Dr. Henderson fell to the ground, grimacing in pain, her hand going to her knee.

Jay leaped to her side, followed by Lila and Dr. Cooper. “What is it?”

Jennifer Henderson was hurt and angry at the same time. “I hurt my leg! Dr. Cooper, you broke the plane and me with it!”

Dr. Cooper knelt beside her and helped her roll up her pantleg. Her knee was beginning to swell.“Can you move it at all?”

She lay on her back, her face crinkled in agony, and gave it a try. She could move it, but it hurt terribly.

Dr. Cooper checked the knee as she worked it.“Well, nothing's broken, but your knee is badly bruised.”

Dr. Henderson let her head plop on the soft, sandy ground and wagged it in despair. “Why me?Why me?”

“But you're still alive,” Lila offered. “And you're safe.”

Boom, bubbaboom, buboom, buboom boom.
The sound of African drums came floating to them on the wind.

“ The Motosas,” said Jay. “Their village can't be far from here.”

Dr. Henderson gave Lila a despairing look. “I only wish I could run.”

“The question is, where?” said Dr. Cooper, surveying the area all around them. The bare desert gave way to a dry, grassy plain with singular trees popping up here and there, but this was still open country and their wrecked airplane had to be visible for miles. “I have little doubt the Motosas know we're here. Those drums could be an alarm.”

“Well, I say we try to get back to the other side.”

“It would be difficult, if not impossible. The Stone's blocking the road, and those hills at either end would be a tough climb even if you weren't injured.”

Dr. Henderson struggled to get up. “Well, I'm not staying here to become somebody's dinner!”

“Can you walk at all?” Dr. Cooper asked, lending his arm.

She put weight on the leg and nearly collapsed again, wincing at the pain. “OWW . . . no.”

Dr. Cooper helped her get comfortable on the ground again, then ducked under the airplane's wing and reached inside the cabin.

“I'll try the plane's radio. Maybe we can contact somebody.”

Boom boom buboom,
the drums kept playing away.

“Do we have any weapons?” Dr. Henderson asked, sitting up.

Jay and Lila looked at each other for an answer.

“A few tools, maybe,” said Jay. “A wrench, a screwdriver . . .”

“Rocks,” Lila suggested.

Dr. Henderson smiled dryly, looking up at the sky. “I'm the luckiest woman in the world!”

Dr. Cooper tried several times to raise someone on the radio, but he couldn't get an answer. Finally, he set the microphone back in its holder and shut the radio off. “The Stone must be blocking our signal.”

The wind had begun to die down as the storm ebbed away. The sun poked holes through the thinning clouds.

Boom boom buboom boom.
The drums sounded louder.

Dr. Cooper scanned the countryside. “We've got to find some shelter, some place to hide.”

“Dad!” Lila whispered. “I think I saw something!”

They all looked in the direction Lila pointed. To the north was an expansive plain of sagebrush and prairie grass, and beyond that, a thin, scraggly forest. Nothing seemed out of place and nothing moved except the grass in the breeze.

“I don't see anything,” Jay said quietly.

“There's somebody out there,” Lila insisted.

They noticed for the first time that the drumbeats had ceased. They heard nothing except the gentle hiss of the breeze through the dry grass.

But was the motion in the grass just from the breeze?

Dr. Cooper was the first to see a face emerge, painted with clay and camouflaged with blades of grass to make it nearly invisible against its surroundings. Slowly, with increasing boldness, the warrior rose from his hiding place in the tall grass to his full height, brandishing a spear in one hand, ready to hurl it at the slightest wrong move.

Lila came alongside her father and held him tightly as another warrior appeared, and then another, each one painted from head to foot to look just like the prairie, like he was made of earth and grass. To the north, and then to the west, and now from the south, more warriors appeared as if growing out of the ground, springing up like cornstalks in a time-lapse movie. It was remarkable how close they'd gotten without being detected.

“They're very good,” said Dr. Cooper.

The warriors came out into the clear, moving stealthily, catlike, their feet touching lightly, silently on the ground. With precision and discipline, they formed a circle, evenly spaced like fenceposts, around the airplane and its occupants, their spears ready. Jacob Cooper counted about thirty. They were not naked, but close to it, dressed for a hunt and dead serious about it. Their expressions were grim through all the mud and grass camouflage.

Dr. Cooper raised his hand very slowly, making sure they could see it was empty, and then gave a slight wave of greeting. “Hello.”

Some of the warriors directly in front of Dr. Cooper finally spoke, but not to him. They were looking at the broken airplane, pointing, muttering to each other, and even getting excited. They called to some other warriors who hurried over to confer in a tight huddle. Word began to travel around the circle, and now everyone seemed excited. Two warriors ran back into the grass, apparently to spread the word to the rest of the village, whatever the word was. Those who remained began to stare at Dr. Cooper, pointing at him, discussing him among themselves.

“I'm Dr. Jacob Cooper—”

Twenty-eight arms raised spears. The warriors were fascinated with Jacob Cooper, but still wary of him.

“Dad . . .” Jay whispered and then pointed to the north.

The two messengers were returning, bounding through the grass with the grace and agility of gazelles, and behind them, marching with quick, deliberate steps, were four men and . . . a bush. At least that's what it looked like from a distance— some kind of bizarre plant sticking above the prairie grass with leaves, grass, and even a few small tree branches arranged like a walking flower arrangement. From the way the warriors quieted down and shuffled sideways to make room, this had to be someone important approaching.

The “bush” came closer, and at last they could see a grim, black face in the center of an elaborate headdress of fur and foliage.

Dr. Henderson drew a surprised breath.

Lila gasped right along with Dr. Henderson and then whispered, “Dad, is that Mr. Mobutu?”

Dr. Cooper kept watching as the very important person came closer. At first glance, and from a distance, the man did bear a remarkable resemblance to Nkromo's chief secretary, but with a second look it was easy to tell, “No, it isn't Mobutu. I believe this is the tribal chief, the man who holds our lives in his hands.”

The chief walked briskly into the circle with authority in every step and an ornately carved staff in his hand. He was attended by four men dressed in woven tunics and elaborate belts and sashes of grass and bark—uniforms, obviously, the proper attire for attendants to the tribal chief. As for the chief, besides the towering headdress, he also wore a breastplate of woven bones and bark, a breathtaking sash of crafted leather, leather sandals with bindings that wound up his legs to his knees, and, as the ultimate symbol of power and high office, a genuine pair of jogging shorts with the word
Nike
clearly embossed on the leg.