The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3)

by Michael Richan

  “Let me guess… can ride a horse, check. Next up, wide hips for proper childbearing.”

  Warren laughed out loud. “Damn, you’re funny!”

  “He curses… check.”

  “She doesn’t mind me cursing, check.”

  Now Deem laughed. “It’s a little annoying, isn’t it?”

  “Kinda,” he said, “even though it’s reality.”

  Deem studied the shirt he was wearing this morning. It wasn’t revealing enough for her to determine if he was wearing garments. She looked down at his jeans, looking for the raised line mid-thigh that was the other giveaway — nothing was there.

  “You don’t wear garments anymore?” she asked, knowing she’d just turned their light conversation down a much more serious path.

  “Nah, I don’t.” He didn’t elaborate, and the moment hung in the air uncomfortably. “That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Deem said. “I don’t mind.”

  “Not exactly the answer I was expecting from a Stake President’s daughter,” he said.

  “In some ways, I’m kind of relieved to see you’re not wearing them,” Deem said. “My relationship with the church is a lot more complicated than most of the girls you probably know.”

  “I think that’s one of the reasons I like you,” Warren replied. “There’s nothing traditional or simple about you. You’re the least boring woman I’ve met.”

  “That sounds like a compliment, so I’ll take it,” Deem said.

  “I’m guessing your father’s passing had something to do with it,” Warren said gently.

  She knew he was treading carefully, not wanting to step on something that might offend. “No, I’d been drifting long before that,” she replied. “My father knew. He wasn’t upset about it, which was one of the things I really appreciated about him. He was supportive no matter what. My mom still tries to get me to go, but I haven’t been in years, and have no interest in it.”

  She knew that on a second date in Utah, what she’d just said would be relationship suicide. She waited for him to reply.

  “I haven’t been since I came back from New York,” Warren replied. “Took off the garments the day after I gave my homecoming talk. Haven’t worn them since, haven’t been back to church either.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story,” Warren said. “Started on my mission. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. Then, since I’ve been home, I’ve committed enough indiscretions that they wouldn’t take me back, even if I wanted to go back. Not without a year of waiting, and I wouldn’t put myself through that shit.”

  Deem smiled when he swore. She felt the same way about the church’s disfellowship and excommunication processes, having seen many of them happen with her father in charge, and more recently when his replacement tried to excommunicate her.

  “So you obviously swear,” Deem said. “Do you drink?”

  “A beer or two has passed my lips, yes,” he replied.

  “Smoke?”

  “Nah, can’t stand it.”

  “Chew?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Love the smell, can’t stand the taste.”

  “Me too,” Deem said. “I don’t get why so many people like it.”

  “Me neither.”

  They rode for a minute in silence, then Deem started the questioning back up again.

  “Do they try to get you to come back?”

  “Yeah, for a while,” Warren replied. “My parents, home teachers, that kind of thing. When I moved from Mesquite to Hurricane, that helped a lot. They still came around, but I told them to back off, and for the most part they have. What about you? You just drifted away?”

  “Pretty much,” Deem said. “I never liked going, and I never liked all the rules. High school was bad enough with all the cattiness and bullshit, but then I’d go to church and get the same crap. All the same assholes I hated at school were there in my Laurels class. I told my dad I wasn’t going anymore, and I just stopped. I know it upset him, and I’m sure it didn’t set a good example for the Stake, but I had to be honest about it.”

  The wooden warning sign was coming into view, and Deem rode up to it, dropping into the River quickly to inspect it. There was the mark in the upper right corner, looking exactly like the one she’d seen in Claude’s notes. Nothing on the sign changed as she viewed it from within the flow.

  “Wonder how long that sign has been there,” Warren said as he rode past. “Looks ancient.”

  Deem tried again with no result. She realized she’d have to leave the sign and follow Warren, or it would look weird. She got behind him and they moved past it. She turned in her saddle to look back at it, desperate to discover something, and then she saw it, scrawled on the back of the sign, near the bottom:

  SEE A FREE WASHINGTON

  What the fuck? she thought. See a free Washington?

  She dropped out of the flow and continued to ride with Warren. Soon they were at the mouth of the canyon, looking up into the steep red rock walls about a thousand feet apart from each other. Warren’s horse whinnied and turned.

  “It gets narrower the deeper you go,” he told her.

  “You’ve never been past this point?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “You can see the horses are spooked. I got a job to do when I’m patrolling, and I don’t have the time to haul back in there, even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.”

  “Aww, come on,” Deem said. “It’s just a canyon. I’ve heard rumors of undiscovered ruins in there.”

  “Hardy told me they’re dangerous, loaded with disease,” Warren replied. “He’s my shift manager. He seems to know every inch of Hinton’s land.”

  “So he’s never been in there, himself?” Deem asked.

  “Didn’t ask him. He said it in a way that didn’t make you want to question him about it. You remember that news story about a biologist who caught bubonic plague in the Grand Canyon? It happens.”

  “I seem to remember that,” Deem replied. She could see Warren was about to turn his horse and head back, so she tried to memorize what she could see, how the cliffs on the sides of the canyon went deeper and then turned to the right in the distance. As with most canyons, a small streambed ran out of its center, surrounded by the greenest plants of the desert.

  Warren noticed her staring. “Dangerous during flash flood season, especially deep in, like The Narrows. Water runs down this bed, meets up with the Virgin River at some point.”

  Warren’s horse whinnied again, and he turned from the canyon. “Come on, let’s head back.”

  Deem gave her reins a flick, and her horse turned to follow Warren. She studied his back. His shoulders were broad, and she appreciated how the curve of his butt nestled into the saddle.

  If I’m not interested in him, I’ll have to let him know right away, she thought. It’s not fair to him to string him along, just for trying to get into this canyon. He’s a nice guy and doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.

  If I’m not interested in him… Am I interested in him?

  She looked up at his shoulders and butt once again and remembered how simply and earnestly they’d talked on the ride out. He’s not a show off. He’s manly, but he’s not a macho asshole. He didn’t balk when I paid the tab at lunch yesterday. He didn’t come unglued when I called him a lady. He’s not all those things you dislike about men.

  And I did enjoy being around him today. He’s funny, quick witted, and easy to talk to.

  Yeah, I like him. I guess I’m interested.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “It’s simple,” Winn said. “The bottom of the sign was knocked off, remember? Punctuation under the letters was gone.”

  “Punctuation?” Deem asked, sitting at Carma’s dining table.

  “It means to see someone named A. Free who lives in Washington City,” Winn replied. “Imagine a period after the letter A, and a comma after the word ‘free’. ‘See A. Free, Washin
gton’. Simple.”

  “I thought it was some constitutionalist crap,” Deem said. “Like visualize a free Washington, D. C. something or other.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Winn replied. “We’re in Washington county, and the city of Washington is right outside St. George. Most likely it was referring to that.”

  “Yeah, but ‘A. Free’? Like someone named Al Free or Andy Free? Seems like a stretch.”

  “It’s the best lead we’ve got,” Winn replied.

  “I must agree with Winn,” Carma said. “If the bottom part of the sign was missing, that would make sense.”

  “Well, the letters were cut off at the bottom,” Deem admitted, “so you could be right.”

  “We just have to find someone named A. Free in Washington,” Winn said, rising from the table. “Is your laptop on in the other room?”

  “Yes,” Deem said. “But don’t poke around on it. Just the browser. And don’t search for porn. I’ll know if you did.”

  “Not if I erase the history,” Winn said as he left the room.

  “The test of good manners is to be patient with the bad ones,” Carma said to the air in front of her.

  “He’s all excited about this idea,” Deem said to Carma, sliding another piece of meat onto her fork. “He just forgot to excuse himself.”

  “Yes, but manners, manners,” Carma said. “Where would we be in life if we didn’t have manners?”

  “Less civilized,” Deem said, slipping the fork into her mouth.

  “At least you understand, my dear,” Carma said, reaching out a hand and placing it over Deem’s. “I take solace that not all hope is lost for the new generation. Your music and entertainment is foul, your attention spans are that of a gnat, but at least some of you still understand the necessity of excusing yourself from the table.” She smiled and patted Deem’s hand. “So you liked this young boy who took you riding?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Deem replied.

  “You didn’t have to; I could tell,” Carma said. “It was written all over your face.”

  “I hope Winn didn’t notice it.”

  “No, he wouldn’t. Don’t worry.”

  “Yes, I kind of liked him. I mean, yeah, he’s in the way of us getting into that canyon, but he doesn’t get all stupid and macho when he finds out I’m not demure and desperate to get married.”

  “A rarity around here,” Carma said.

  “Yes,” Deem replied. “And he’s got a sort of magnetism about him. I like being around him.”

  “Handsome? Well built?”

  Deem blushed a little. “Yes, I think so, not that that really matters to me.”

  “You’re a liar, my dear,” Carma said, pointing the tip of her knife at her. “Of course it matters. Does he make you swoon?”

  “Swoon?” Deem repeated. “I’m not sure I know what the word means.”

  “When you see him, do you feel faint and reach for something to grab to hold yourself up? That’s swooning.”

  “No, Carma, I don’t swoon. I don’t think it’s in me to swoon. That, and it’s the twenty-first century. Women don’t swoon anymore.”

  “Oh, we used to swoon in my day. I remember the first time I saw Lyman. I passed out. Got a big gash on the back of my head.”

  “I thought pioneer women were made of heartier stock than that,” Deem replied, finishing up her meal. “At least, the stories in Sunday School made them sound a lot tougher.”

  “Oh, we were tough, but we still lost our balance when a handsome boy came around. We all dreamed of being the first wife to a handsome young man. Well, most of us, anyway. I suppose there were a few like you who made it much harder for a man to conquer. They usually wound up as wife seven or eight.”

  “I don’t think Warren is a polygamist,” Deem replied. “Although he never told me why he doesn’t wear garments anymore. Just that he doesn’t.”

  “Well, if you are interested in him, there’s some secrets you’ll both have to share with each other, down the road,” Carma said. “If you’re interested.”

  “He asked me out to dinner again,” Deem replied. “I said yes.”

  “I take that as a yes, you’re interested,” Carma said. “Unless you’re leading him on for some other reason.”

  “Well, he might come in handy at some point,” Deem said, “but no, I’m not leading him on. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Good for you, my dear,” Carma said. She reached into a pocket on her dress and removed a small square foil, then placed it on the table and pushed it toward Deem. “Here you go, with my best wishes.”

  Deem looked at the item on the table — it was a condom.

  “Carma, I’m nowhere near that point,” she said, looking down at the condom with surprise.

  “You’re a pretty young girl, and he’s a return missionary who doesn’t wear garments,” Carma said. “It’s likely to get out of hand before you can do anything to stop it. Tuck it away and you’ll thank me later.”

  Winn walked into the room. “I’ve got something!”

  Deem reached out and quickly grabbed the condom from the table, sliding it down and into her lap.

  Winn paused. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Deem said.

  “You did not ask to be excused from the table, young man,” Carma said.

  “Oh, I apologize Carma, I completely forgot,” Winn replied. “But I’ve got some info. There’s no A. Free in Washington anymore, but there is a John Free. A man named Aldus Free used to live in the same house, so I’m thinking John might be his son. I say we go pay him a visit.”

  “May I be excused, Carma?” Deem asked.

  “Of course, my dear. And thank you.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “Once or twice a year, someone shows up wanting to talk to my dad,” John said, standing in the doorway of his single level ranch style home in Washington City.

  “He used to live here?” Winn asked.

  “Yes, until we had to move him into an assisted care facility. Are you both… you know?”

  “You know?” Deem repeated.

  John looked over his shoulder, back into the house, and then stepped out to the front porch next to Deem and Winn, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “You know, like my dad… was…” John said.

  “Was?” Winn asked.

  “Listen, my sister insists that my dad had some skills, back in the day, you know, and that we were supposed to inherit those skills, but nothing has ever come of it. I wouldn’t believe her if people didn’t keep showing up here asking to see him. He was a janitor at Dixie Academy for heaven’s sake; why would people who didn’t know him keep showing up, wanting to talk to him?”

  “But we did know him,” Winn lied.

  “I highly doubt that,” John replied, looking them over. “You’re not even half my age.”

  “I think your father has some geographical knowledge of an area I’ve been exploring,” Deem said, “and I wanted to talk to him about it.”

  “Ah, you saw a sign, did you?” John asked. “It’s always a sign. Listen, you’ll never get in to see my father. The facility doesn’t allow guests from off the street. You have to be on an approved list. And I’ll put your name on that list, and let you go see him, if you do something for me.”

  “What?” Winn asked.

  “Come with me,” John said, opening the door to his house and walking inside. Deem and Winn followed.

  The living room was trashed and the dining room beyond looked even more out of control. A woman’s head appeared from around a corner.

  “Who are these people?” the woman asked.

  “Shut up and finish dinner!” John barked back, following a rabbit trail through the trash on the floor to a hallway, and taking them down to the last room. They snaked past stacks of boxes and piles of clothes.

  “We’re still going through my father’s things,” John said as they entered the back room. It was similarly trashed. John walked
to a dresser and pulled a drawer open. It didn’t contain what he was looking for, so he pulled open another drawer and kept searching. On the third drawer, he removed a small wooden box in the shape of a cube, about six inches square. “Ah!” he said, holding the box out to Winn. “Tell me what this is, and how to work it. Then I’ll get you in to see my father.”

  Winn slid open a wooden slat at the top of the box and looked inside, then he showed it to Deem. Inside was a thin, flat stone, with eight edges that had been cut into it, not much larger than a quarter.

  “It’s a rock,” Deem said.

  “I know it’s a rock,” John said. “But it’s more than that. My sister believes it’s something my dad kept in that box for a reason. She thinks it can do things.”

  “Like what?” Winn asked.

  “That’s what I want you to tell me!” John said. “If you’re here about one of my father’s signs, then you’re like him. Like he used to be. He doesn’t remember what this is anymore. Half the time he can barely remember his name. My sister thinks it might be something special, that it might be worth something.”

  Deem saw Winn looking down into the box, staring at the stone inside. She knew he had entered the River, so she joined him. The surface of the rock transformed from a dull grey to a shiny glass, reflecting the light of the room out of the box.

  Do you have any idea what it is? she thought to Winn.

  No idea, he replied.

  What do we tell him? she asked.

  We make up some bullshit.

  We gotta do it in a way where he’ll get us in to see Aldus, Deem replied. I’ve got an idea.

  Go for it, Winn said. I’ll back you up.

  They dropped out of the River, and John looked expectantly at the two of them.

  “You just zapped it with your skills, didn’t you?” John asked. “Just now. You both used your abilities to zap it and see what it could do.”

  “I think it might be very valuable,” Deem said. “What do you think, Winn?”

  “There’s a chance it’s incredibly valuable,” Winn replied.