The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3)

by Michael Richan

  She kept searching, stopping to remove the gas mask every three bodies. Eventually she reached the last one. She searched it and found nothing, then pointed her light down the passage ahead. It continued to narrow, but went farther than her light would illuminate. She wondered if it went on forever.

  She turned and made her way back, scanning each corpse as she did, double checking that she hadn’t missed any. Thirty corpses later she ran into Winn, who was going through the pockets of a face down man.

  “Searched that one already,” Deem said to him.

  “Any luck?” Winn asked.

  “Found a few things, but no vacuum box,” she replied.

  “Can we get out of here now?” Winn asked.

  “Let’s go,” Deem said, and Winn turned in the tunnel, making his way back over the bodies until they stood at the first one.

  “Look,” Winn said, shining his flashlight down. “This guy was headed back out. He must have seen the corpses and realized it was a trap.”

  “He was too far in to ever make it back out,” Deem replied. “I wonder how Porter’s gang realized this tunnel was dangerous?”

  “Maybe the bad air only works on gifteds?” Winn said.

  “That’s a possibility,” Deem replied. “If they came in here with one, they might have seen the gifted acting strangely and figured it out. Then they just lured more here with promises of gold.”

  “I guess we’ll have to hope Steven and Roy come through,” Winn said as they made left turn after left turn. “Lyman must have been wrong about it being on him, either that or he just didn’t bring it in with him.”

  “Does it make sense to you that Carma would appear out there but not in here?” Deem asked as she quickened her pace, wanting to get out of the tunnel. “Not in the room with the ghosts? Why just out there?”

  “Did you really think that was Carma?” Winn said. “I didn’t.”

  “Then what? Some kind of sentry?”

  “Yes, something like that,” Winn replied. “It read our minds and used a character it knew we’d trust. Probably set up by Porter’s gang to respond individually to any gifted who came in here. Help push them the final step into the tunnel.”

  “Didn’t Lyman say he gave the vacuum box to one of Porter’s men?” Deem asked.

  “That’s what I thought he said,” Winn answered.

  “And the guy was on the outs with Porter?”

  Winn stopped. “You might be on to something. What if Porter discovered the guy was a traitor? Would Porter have killed him?”

  “For sure,” Deem said. “Porter was ruthless.”

  They emerged into the room, exhausted from all the turns. Carma was standing next to the boulder, her arm raised to point at the tunnel they’d just come from.

  “The treasure you seek is down there,” Carma said.

  “Obviously not expecting people to come back out,” Winn said to Deem. They walked to the false wall, but Deem stopped. She turned to face the skeletons pinned nearby.

  “Traitors, maybe?” she said to Winn.

  Winn broke into a smile and they both raced to the rubble at the feet of the skeletons. The flesh of the bodies had been eaten away by cave insects long ago, and the clothes of the victims were lying in the rocks at their feet. They climbed through the rubble and began searching the clothes, and within seconds Deem raised an object toward Winn, holding it in her open palm.

  “Six sided, inlaid with mother of pearl,” Deem said proudly. “This is it!”

  Chapter Nine

  “Me? In a mine? In Left Hand?” Carma asked. “You must be joking!”

  “It looked just like you,” Deem said. “Your voice, your mannerisms, everything.”

  “I have mannerisms?”

  “We figured out it wasn’t you,” Winn said.

  “You think I go flying through the air, teleporting into places? What makes you think I have the time to follow you around? If I had the time, I’d go myself!” Carma said indignantly.

  “It picked someone from our minds,” Deem said. “Someone it thought we’d respect and listen to.”

  “Ah, so any mannerisms were ones you imagined,” Carma said, a long thin cigarette tilting rapidly up and down in her fingers. “That makes me feel better.”

  Deem held up the vacuum box. “This is what matters. We found it.”

  Carma’s mood changed instantly to delight. She clapped her hands together, ash falling. “How wonderful! Was my image instrumental in helping you locate it?”

  “Not really,” Winn replied. “It sent us down a wrong path, the passageway used to kill the gifteds.”

  Deem picked up the story and filled Carma in on the details that happened earlier in the mine. Carma listened intently, her eyes widening at some parts and her mouth dropping open with surprise during others. When Deem finished, Carma applauded.

  “Both of you are heroic; I’ll not stand for anyone saying otherwise!” Carma rose from her chair and began to pace. “Porter’s deeds of ill repute will be turned on their heads when you use the vacuum box to collect the callum later tonight. I’m going to call Ester and let her know of our progress, try to calm her nerves a little, and make sure she doesn’t do anything rash before you finish up at the canyon.” Carma left the dining room and they heard her making a phone call in the kitchen.

  “When’s your date?” Winn asked.

  “A couple of hours,” Deem replied.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I wouldn’t tell you if I knew.”

  “Don’t be that way. I’m genuinely interested.”

  “And I’m genuinely interested in you not knowing so you can’t fuck it up.”

  “You’ll want to be careful with that kind of language around a returned missionary,” Winn said.

  “We’ve crossed that bridge already,” Deem replied. “He’s not as righteous as all that.”

  “I wonder, then, if more bridges will be crossed tonight,” Winn said, smirking a little.

  “See, that’s why I don’t tell you things, that attitude right there.”

  “Seriously, I hope you have a good time. When will you be free for our excursion into the canyon?”

  “Why don’t you meet me back here at midnight,” Deem replied. “I figure two hours to get parked somewhere private, hike in around the bend so we can’t be seen, and set up camp. If we’re lucky, we’ll be sleeping by 2.”

  “I’m heading home to get the gear,” Winn said. “Tell Carma goodbye for me and that I’ll be back later tonight.”

  “I will,” Deem said, and watched as Winn turned and left. It was hard not to watch Winn’s jeans whenever he left a room — or entered it, for that matter — but Deem thought of her upcoming date with Warren instead, and decided she’d best break herself of sneaking peeks at Winn’s backside.

  Carma came back into the room. “Winn’s gone?”

  “He’ll be back,” Deem replied. “He’s gone to get the climbing gear.” Deem reached into her backpack and felt the satchel she’d picked up in the mine. She pulled it out and set it on the table.

  “I’ve done it, I’ve convinced Ester to hold off until tomorrow,” Carma said, then looked down at the satchel. “What’s this, more souvenirs from the mine?”

  “There’s something here I wanted to show you,” Deem said, reaching into the satchel. She removed the leather-bound book she had looked through in the mine and handed it to Carma, who didn’t reach out to take it.

  “I do wish you’d be more careful with what you bring in, dear,” Carma said, staring at the book. “You don’t know what this might be.”

  “I don’t think it’s bad,” Deem said. “I looked through it, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I was hoping you could. It’s handwritten.”

  Carma reached out tentatively and took the book from Deem’s hands, then opened it. She was holding it at arm’s length as she turned the pages, her face pulled back as though she was afraid something might spring from it at any moment.

&
nbsp; “I’ll need glasses,” Carma said, setting the book down on the table. “Especially with all that fancy penmanship.”

  Carma walked into the kitchen and returned after a moment. In addition to her glasses, she was holding a red scarf which she placed on the table. She set the book on top of it, and wrapped the book up in the scarf. Then she let it sit in front of them for a moment.

  “Aren’t you going to read it?” Deem asked.

  “In a moment, dear,” Carma said, lighting a cigarette. She stared at the book for a minute longer, taking an occasional puff and blowing the smoke directly at the book. Deem coughed.

  Then Carma rose and unwrapped the book, bunching the scarf in her hand. She turned and walked out of the dining room.

  “Where are you going?” Deem asked, intrigued with whatever Carma was up to. She followed her through the house until they went through a set of sliding glass doors onto the back porch. Carma dropped the scarf into a built-in brick barbeque at the far end of the covered porch, grabbed a large can of lighter fluid, and began dousing the scarf, all the while her cigarette dangling from her lips. Deem was surprised at how much liquid Carma was squirting onto the scarf. Once Carma was satisfied that it was thoroughly soaked, she tossed her cigarette into the pit.

  Deem jumped back as a large fireball formed and roared upward. She felt the heat of the combustion on her face and wondered if any of her hair might be singed.

  Carma turned and walked back into the house, the fire still roaring in the pit. “There, better safe than sorry.”

  Deem followed her, returning to the dining room. Carma sat herself at the table, grabbed her glasses, slipped them onto her face, and opened the book.

  Deem let her read in silence for a moment, then her curiosity overcame her. “Well?” she asked.

  “My dear,” Carma said, looking up from the book and smiling at her, “you’ve found something truly amazing. Far more important than a vacuum box.” She returned to examining the pages.

  “What?” Deem asked. “What is it?”

  “It’s the journal of a gifted man named Lorenzo Lyman,” Carma replied, still turning the pages. “Ever heard of him?”

  “Lyman, like Lyman downstairs?”

  “No,” Carma said. “The Lyman downstairs is first named Lyman. Lorenzo had Lyman for a last name. It’s an infamous name in Utah history. His father was Amasa Lyman, one of the few apostles of the church to ever be excommunicated.”

  “Never heard of him,” Deem replied.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Carma said. “The heretics are rarely remembered. Amasa had the nasty habit of preaching that man could be saved by knowledge instead of the atonement. That got him ex’d. After that, instead of repenting and trying to rejoin the church, he took up an interest in spiritualism, and kept it up until his death. His family was split on supporting him. Half his children joined him in his heretical views, one of which was Lorenzo. Many speculated that Lorenzo had the gift. Lyman will be absolutely thrilled to hear that you’ve discovered Lorenzo’s journal.”

  “So Lorenzo was one of Porter’s casualties,” Deem said.

  “Apparently so,” Carma replied. “That, or someone else had his journal.”

  “I can’t read any of it,” Deem replied. “The words themselves made sense, but not the way he strung them together.”

  “I can make out some of it, but that’s because I’ve had more experience than you,” Carma replied. “I would encourage you to try to read it anyway. I expect you will find some passages that you can make out, and you’ll find information in those parts. Things tend to connect, and the more you understand, the more will open up. This is a valuable find, my dear, and you should treat it like gold. There are many gifteds out there who would love to have discovered it.” She slid the book along the table back toward Deem.

  “I wonder what else is in this satchel,” Deem said, reaching in to pull out two more books and some loose paper.

  She heard Carma suck in air as she saw the spine of one of the books.

  “What?” Deem asked. “What is it?”

  “May I?” Carma asked, reaching for the book with the spine facing her.

  “Go ahead,” Deem said, intrigued by Carma’s reaction.

  Carma picked up the book and opened it, looking at the title page. Deem saw her close her eyes and smile.

  “What?” Deem asked.

  “If Lorenzo’s journal wasn’t valuable enough,” Carma said, “you just landed a nice little fortune.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Deem said. “You can’t be serious!”

  Carma turned the book around to face Deem. “This is an original 1830 Book of Mormon, my dear,” Carma said. “Last I heard, you should be able to get a hundred thousand for it. Congratulations.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Deem stretched out and looked up at the stars which had just started to appear. The blanket underneath her smelled fresh. He must have washed it today, she thought. I have to hand it to him, he’s been pretty thoughtful. After the hike and the food, she felt relaxed. The wine Warren had brought with the picnic didn’t hurt. And remembering the valuable finds she’d made earlier in the day catapulted her relaxation into euphoria.

  “I haven’t been up this way in years,” Warren said. “We used to come up here when I was in high school. I think that was the last time.”

  Deem was surprised more people weren’t around. The secluded grassy clearing was beautiful, surrounded by the tall trees of Pine Valley. They were north of St. George, a few thousand feet higher in elevation, and with night descending, it was starting to get cooler; much cooler than a St. George evening.

  “Cassiopeia!” Deem said, pointing up at the night sky.

  “You know the constellations?” Warren asked.

  “Some,” she replied. “The ones I remember from a book I had as a kid.”

  “More wine? There’s still some left,” Warren asked.

  “No, thank you,” she replied. “I’ve had plenty. And the food was fantastic. All the little meats and cheeses and things. Really tasty.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, and stretched out on the blanket next to her, staring up at the sky.

  Earlier they’d hiked the canal trail, and Warren had led her off path to this spot, where they’d stopped and had dinner. Somehow he’d managed a huge blanket, and all the necessities for eating, including a bottle of wine. The hike had been fun, and Warren seemed to have her sense of when to talk and joke, and when to shut up and enjoy the beauty around them. Now, lying on the blanket next to him, staring up at the emerging stars, the smell of the blanket mixed with the smell of him, and she felt intoxicated. This might be the best date I’ve ever been on, she thought. He made sure everything was perfect.

  Or is that the wine talking? she wondered. She had only one glass, but she was a lightweight.

  Fuck it, I don’t care, she thought. It was a nice afternoon with him, a great dinner, and now he’s lying next to me. I wonder if he’ll make a move. I wonder how I’ll react.

  She waited patiently, scanning the heavens, feeling more content and relaxed as each moment went by. And yet, as relaxed as she was, she felt excitement, too.

  “So, you and Winn have known each other for a while?” he asked.

  “Yeah, a couple of years, I guess,” she replied.

  “Were you a thing early on?”

  “Oh, god no!” Deem laughed.

  “What? I thought it was a reasonable question. He’s a handsome guy.”

  “He’s not my type. Winn’ll sleep with anything with two legs, which is not my style.”

  “Is he ex-military? He gives off that vibe.”

  “No, he’s not. It’s a look he says attracts men and women equally, so he uses it.”

  “Oh, so he’s gay? I mean… bisexual?”

  “Yup,” Deem replied. “What, are you interested in him?”

  “No,” Warren replied. “I’m interested in you. That’s the only reason I was asking.”

&nbs
p; Good answer, Deem thought. Not threatened, not homophobic. Check.

  “So you’re just friends?” he asked.

  “Yup, just friends.”

  “You seem to spend a lot of time together.”

  Deem raised up on one elbow to look down at him. “What is this? An interrogation?”

  “I’m prying,” he said. “I shouldn’t. I retract the question.”

  He deserves an answer, she thought. Maybe not now, but at some point. She took a moment to look at him, lying vulnerably on the blanket next to her, staring away from her, up into the sky. A hint of a smile was on his lips, and for a moment she thought about leaning over and seeing what his lips were like, but she stopped herself.

  He turned to see her watching him. “What?” he asked, smirking.

  “I had a great time,” she replied. “The hike, the food, this. All really nice.”

  “I’m glad,” he said. “I did too.”

  She suddenly felt guilty realizing that within a few hours she’d be going behind his back, using the information she’d picked up from him to sneak onto his employer’s property.

  He saw the look on her face. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing.” She laid back down next to him.

  “Can we do this again sometime?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she replied. She felt his hand reach out to hers, and she allowed him to take it. His fingers had the roughness of someone who works a ranch all day. She felt him squeeze her hand gently, and she gave him a squeeze in return.

  “Soon?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “Soon. It’s getting cold.”

  “Do you want to go back?” he asked.

  “Not really, though I suppose we’ll have to, eventually.”

  He reached over her and pulled the edge of the blanket from the grass, wrapping it over her. “There,” he said. “That better?” He dropped back down next to her, and pulled his edge of the blanket up as well.

  She snuggled in next to him, getting a much stronger smell of him. Then she smiled to herself.

  Wow, she thought, surprised. I really like this guy.