Tortoise Soup (36 page)

My senses heightened, I glanced around, noticing large patches of the same white fungus I’d seen in the passageway above. But this time the formations appeared to erupt from glistening crystals that grew out of the walls of stone. Eerily fascinated by their shimmering gleam, I reached out, wanting to caress their crystalline surface, as if that would somehow reassure me that I was still alive.

But Noah grabbed onto my wrist in midair. “Don’t touch that, Rachel. Don’t touch anything inside this tunnel,” he sternly warned. “I’ve never seen formations like these before. But I can sure as hell tell you they aren’t your normal everyday crystals. The less physical contact we have with anything in here, the better off we’ll be.”

I found myself wondering what the consequences were of just being in the place, but didn’t dare ask. Having come this far, neither of us planned on turning back now. We continued on our trek, pushing further into the shaft.

“We should be right below that concrete slab about now,” Noah informed me.

But I barely listened, suddenly aware of the sharp smell of ammonia that had begun to fill my lungs. My stomach performed a series of skydiving somersaults as the odor continued to grow. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth, then remembered where I had smelled that same scent before: at Annie’s house.

Noah noticed the odor as well. “That’s the smell of death, Porter. Something’s decomposing in here.”

Noah focused the flashlight into a corner, where the decaying carcass of a coyote lay, an odd puddle of liquid on its side shining in the light. A short distance from the carcass lay a couple of large shells from which leg, neck, and head bones protruded: the skeletons of two desert tortoises.

Noah slowly raised his flashlight from the disintegrating corpse, up along the tunnel wall, one maddening inch at a time. The focused rays picked up tiny fractures that sparkled in the stone, their surfaces slick and shiny, the crystals growing out of them gleaming with dew. Noah’s flashlight continued its upward journey, the beam traveling still higher, until the source of the moisture was finally found. A small stream of water dripped with a silent, steady beat from the uneven ceiling, the drops obscenely muted by the cadaver below.

“Shit. The damn place is leaking! That’s why they’re moving out,” Noah whispered in a hoarse rasp. He looked like a living corpse, his usual sunburned complexion transformed into a pallid mask of gray.

“But what about that heated block?” I said frantically. “I thought that was supposed to keep water from reaching any of the waste.”

More than anything, I wanted to shake Noah as hard as I could, forcing him to say he was wrong, that this was all some ludicrous mistake.

“It had to be that earthquake,” he muttered, half to himself.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, even as I remembered the tremor that had rocked my kitchen, breaking my few pitiful secondhand dishes, only a week ago. “What would an earthquake have to do with any of this?”

And then the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. “The radiation poisoning those tortoises died from! Their water source must have been here, inside the mine. They were just the ones that got out alive.”

But Noah didn’t answer, his mind already moving ahead at warp speed.

“I left my pack outside the tunnel. I need to take a reading on this place. I’m going to get it and you’re coming with me. I want you out of here now, Porter.”

Noah swiftly turned around to leave, then he came to an abrupt halt and stiffened. I drew alongside him and looked down, furiously exploring the dark without any clue as to what I was searching for. Until I heard the whisper of a sound, and my eyes latched onto three tiny pack rats huddled together, their bodies pressed tightly against the rough tunnel wall. Fearing our attention, the rodents drew closer still, pathetically whimpering as they tried their best to hide from our sight.

Noah carefully knelt down and flashed his light on their quivering bodies, and I heard a sharp cry. The sound echoed in my ears, and I realized that the cry was my own. A steady trickle of blood wept from their eyes, their noses, and their mouths, transforming them into a perverse science fiction version of the three blind mice.

“Take a good look, Rachel,” Noah whispered, his voice sounding a thousand miles away. “What you’re seeing is radiation poisoning. Let’s get the fuck out of here now.” Noah quickly retraced his steps toward the exit. I immediately began to follow when another sound, coming from further back, reached my ears. Halting, I watched Noah’s retreating form pass under each bare bulb, the brilliant colors of his shirt fading like the last rays of sun on a hot summer night. My mind told me to run as fast as I could, to think of nothing but getting out of the tunnel. But my feet had a mind of their own. Knowing I had little choice, I found myself turning away from Noah and heading deeper into the shaft.

The bulbs became fewer, the light more dim, and my head pounded with each step, the air pungent with death and decay. I heard the cry again, though I tried not to listen. I told myself it was nothing more than my demons toying with me, mocking my fear. But by now my body was on automatic pilot. Noah’s voice called to me from off in the distance, but I didn’t bother to answer, knowing I had to face whatever it was on my own.

Wrapped up in my thoughts, I was caught off guard by the rock that jutted in front of me. I tripped, and a sharp jolt of pain shot up my leg as my ankle twisted and I went down. I called out in dismay, angry at my foolhardy pride. But Noah was no longer there. I pulled myself up and hobbled a few steps, deciding I’d had enough. It was time to head back. Then a loud whimper stopped me dead in my tracks, turning my blood ice-cold.

I continued on, limping slowly toward the sound, my eyes focused on the form that was beginning to take shape under the shaft’s shadowy light. Trembling, I moved in closer. My breath caught in my throat, and a wave of nausea surged through me.

Pilot lay on his side, a rivulet of blood streaming from his mouth. He tried raising his tail, only to have it thump weakly down to the ground. Then he looked up at me and let out a cry, as if to tell me he was hurt, trusting I would make it all better. My knees buckled beneath me and a sob racked my body, my cry blending in with his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his fur. Then, grabbing a tissue from my pocket, I tried as best I could to wipe away the blood, my vision blinded by tears. But the flow wouldn’t stop, staining his muzzle a deep crimson red.

“Oh, no, Pilot, not you,” I whispered, knowing I couldn’t leave him.

My prayers were answered when I heard Noah call my name, followed by a gunshot that rang out in the distance. In my desperate relief to hear from the man who was fast becoming my guardian angel the sound didn’t register.

“I’m back here! I’ve found Pilot. We need to get him out!”

Noah didn’t answer. But his footsteps echoed down the long hall, raising my spirits as they drew closer. It was only as my rescuer came into view that I knew all of my hopes had been dashed.

Brian Anderson stood before me, a .357 Magnum held in his hand. I stared at him through my tears, continuing to stroke Pilot’s fur, as the dog let loose a low growl.

I didn’t ask about Noah. I already knew what had happened.

Brian shook his head in dismay, his eyes looking first at Pilot and then back at me. “I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

I truly believed him, and for the briefest moment, I felt as if we still might be saved.

“I didn’t want things to end like this. I tried to warn you,” he said gravely.

It was then that I finally knew where Brian’s allegiance lay.

“But why?” I asked, barely able to form the words over the sob that was lodged in my throat.

“It’s simple.” Brian shrugged. “We’re dealing with a public that wants cheap energy, but no one wants nuclear waste buried in their own backyard. As it stands now, DOE already has to ante up damages for coming in behind schedule.”

Brian looked tired, as if dealing with the issue had taken its toll.

“Yucca Mountain would have solved the problem. But your friend Noah put the brakes on that when he brought in the press. So we set up the Golden Shaft mine. The idea was to prove our case here—that Yucca Mountain could be made safe,” he explained. “Unfortunately the earthquake last week was centered in this area. The waste canisters came loose, and some leakage occurred.”

I gently laid Pilot’s head down on the ground with a final kiss, then pushed my way up along the wall.

“Did DOE buy the county commission’s cooperation by promising land for development if they remained silent?” I asked.

Brian smiled sadly. “Life is a series of murky compromises, Rachel. It’s amazing the power that developers have in this county.”

I felt faint at the sight of Pilot’s blood on my pants but forced my mind to stay focused. I had to keep Brian talking. “What about the houses that are going to be built? The people that will be living here?”

“Developers are a greedy, unconscionable lot, aren’t they? Makes you stop and wonder about human nature,” Brian smiled grimly.

“Is that why Dee was murdered?” I asked, playing for time.

Brian’s finger rested on the Magnum’s trigger. There was no way I’d ever outdraw the man.

“You know why, Rachel. You were partially responsible. She knew too much and was beginning to talk.” Brian restlessly shifted his weight.

My fingers latched onto the chain that hung from my back pocket. “And Annie McCarthy? Did she know too much as well?”

Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Alpha Development wanted her land and she wouldn’t sell.”

He began to raise the gun as I wrapped the chain tight in the palm of my hand.

“What I still can’t figure out are the tortoise symbols that were found,” I said desperately.

Brian stared at me blankly, the gun frozen in place. Then he smiled as he realized what I was talking about.

“Oh, that was Garrett’s nephew. The idea was to send Metro on a wild-goose chase after animal activists.” Brian shook his head. “Kids and their crazy ideas.”

I brought my hands out from behind my back, the pounding in my head making it hard for me to think. I racked my brain, at a loss on how to distract Brian.

But Anderson had reached his limit. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Time’s up. No more questions. That’s been your problem right from the start. You should have talked less and listened to me more.” Predatory eyes flickered coldly, his voice turning flat and hard. “You don’t know how much I hate this part of the job.”

My lungs had begun to burn with the fury of a stoked furnace, while my heart was beating like a locomotive out of control. I could feel the weight of Pilot’s head against my legs as I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Then, opening my eyes wide, I focused my attention behind Brian.

“Noah! Watch out!” I screamed loud enough to bring every dead soul in the cave back to life.

Brian glanced over his shoulder, and I quickly threw the St. Christopher medal down the tunnel hall as far as I could. Brian went for the bait. Turning around, he took off toward the sound as I dodged past Pilot and pushed deeper into the mine. I spotted a passageway that veered off to the right and hobbled inside.

But any hope of evasion was mere illusion. Brian’s voice curled with serpentine menace down the floor of the hall, smoothly rounding each corner until it nailed me.

“Good try, Rachel. But I can’t leave you here, and you can’t get away. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

I stumbled blindly, crying out as I stubbed a toe hard against a rock. At the same moment, I discovered that my escape had been cut off, dead-ended by yet another wall. Bracing myself against it, I tore the SIG-Sauer pistol from the back of my pants and held it in both hands, trying my best to be cool and steady.

I aimed at the entrance and calculated where Brian’s chest would be, my finger pressed lightly against the trigger. I held my breath until I felt I would burst—then Brian’s silver hair finally came into view. I silently cursed every demon in my life, every poacher that had gotten away, the forces that had caused Pilot to be poisoned, and any man that would take me for a fool. I focused Anderson’s chest in my sights, and firmly squeezed the trigger. But instead of the inevitable roar, a deadly silence became my earthly shroud. My gun had jammed, just as it had on the day I’d met Noah. I stood with my back to the wall, now the perfect target.

A fine layer of sweat defined each flawless angle in Brian’s handsome face as I sensed the tension in his body relax. He serenely raised his revolver and pointed it in my direction.

“Oh, Rachel. You almost had me. That makes this so much easier now.”

My life didn’t flash before me and I wondered if it was because I didn’t have one as I heard a roar and waited to die. It took a splitsecond before I realized that the sound hadn’t come from a gun but from Pilot, who had managed to follow us in. The dog leapt against Brian’s back, the full force of his weight catching the man off guard and sending my adrenaline soaring.

Anderson’s revolver clattered to the ground. I flung my own useless pistol at his head and dove forward, determined to claim his .357. My fingers wrapped around the Magnum’s handle, then Brian’s hand clamped onto mine, bearing down with the strength of a vice.

I hung on tight as Anderson rose to his feet, pulling me up along with him, all the while fighting to pry the gun from my grip. Gritting my teeth, I refused to let go. I kept one hand on the Magnum and the other on Brian’s wrist, fighting to ignore the pain that tore through me. Finally, unable to hold him off any longer, my arms quivered and began to give way as Anderson steadily pushed the gun in toward me. The cold steel of the revolver lodged itself tightly beneath my chin like a brace, thrusting my head back until it could go no further.

My throat rested heavily on the mouth of the barrel, imprinted with each tiny ridge. My last thought was that you could only be betrayed by the people you trust. I was still holding tight onto Brian’s wrist when Pilot lunged once again, his fangs sinking into Anderson’s arm. Brian screamed at the dog and struggled to shake him off, but Pilot’s grip only grew stronger. My heart hammered against my ribs as I called up every last bit of strength I could muster to propel the gun away from my neck, slanting it in Brian’s direction. His eyes caught mine in a riveting stare, and his voice gave one last command.