“Veronica, we’ve got to get to better shelter. There’s a cave up ahead, in Skull Rock. Just ten minutes more and we’ll be there.” She turned toward the dark cloud. “It’s getting closer. Come on, I’ll help you.”
Veronica shook off Kim’s proffered hand. “Oh, all right.” She fell into step again behind Kim, with Allie and Sara in the lead now.
The wind picked up. Kim glanced back at the ominous, smoke-colored cloud. It wasn’t just closer, it had grown. It filled the wide horizon and towered upward as far as she could see, obliterating the sky and moving toward them as if in pursuit.
Skull Rock came into view, still minutes away. “Look, that’s where we’re going,” Kim shouted. The wind reached them, buffeting, before the wall of particles hit. Kim felt the grains of sand stinging her bare legs and face, and knew the others were feeling it too. She sprinted forward and took the lead again, up out of the wash and then west toward the Rock, the wind a tormenting enemy at their backs.
Fear gripped her, fear they would become separated when the cloud grew dense enough to obscure their destination. She reached back to grab Allie’s hand and yelled, “Hold hands, make a chain. Put your heads down. Just watch the ground. Don’t look up. Close your eyes if you have to.” She squinted and blinked repeatedly to clear her vision. Air-borne particles invaded her ears, her nose and eyes. Her skin was being scoured raw by sand and dirt driven at sixty miles an hour and she knew the others were experiencing the same assault.
A minute later, she couldn’t see her feet or anything that lay in front of her. She walked by instinct instead of by sight. Twenty more steps. They were almost on it before she saw it, the dark shape of Skull Rock. The gouged indentations up high were the eyes, the gaping mouth the entrance to the cave.
Closer. Ten more steps. The struggles of those behind telegraphed to her through the chain of linked hands, tugging on her, picturing their fear and distress. She gripped Allie’s hand tighter. Above the shriek of the wind she heard coughing. Someone yelled something unintelligible.
She stumbled into the cave, shallow but dark as a moonless night. With sand and dust in her eyes she could see very little. She kept walking, trusting to memory. There were no rocks or other barriers to stumble over. In twelve paces she reached the back of the cave. She pulled Allie to the rock wall beside her, and reached back to make sure Sara and Veronica followed. Yes, all here. Finally she sank to her hands and knees. The others collapsed around her, coughing and panting.
• • •
Chapter Thirty-One
The sound of the wind grew louder; the storm reaching its crescendo but only a few weak down-gusts reached them at the back of the cave. The wind shrieking outside slowly lessened, became background to the sound of their ragged breathing. Light filtered through the mouth opening of the cave, dim and grey as if seen through gauze.
Kim tried to blink the dirt from her eyes. Her vision cleared and adjusted to the darkness enough to reveal the others and a bit of their surroundings. “How are you, everyone? Sara, are you okay?”
Veronica yelled, “I can’t see! There’s sand in my eyes.”
Sara coughed and cleared her throat. “Considering I’ve got enough sand in my nose, my eyes, my ears and my hair to fill a kid’s sand-box, I feel pretty good, Kim. How about you, honey?”
Kim started to answer but instead a laugh erupted from her throat. Then they were all laughing, semi-hysterical, voices weak with relief. The laughter slowly died down, taking with it Kim's fear for the safety of the others, at least for the moment. She said, “Don’t rub your eyes, Veronica. Let me help you. We’ll wash them out with water. All of you. Sara, you’re first.” She pulled a quart of water from her back-pack. She tilted her head back and poured water in one eye, then the other. Then again, blinking as she poured.
“Why are you first?” Veronica asked.
“So I’ll be able to see what I’m doing when I help you.”
One by one, she irrigated their eyes. With their vision cleared a little, they used the other water bottles to take long, cleansing gulps.
Kim saw Allie and the others stand to shake out their hair and clothing, beginning to take stock of themselves and their surroundings. Sounds of sobbing made Allie whirl around. “Veronica, what’s wrong?”
“The birds! This will kill them! Think how many of them will die.”
“They won’t all die.”
“Yes, but…”
“The rain will help," Allie said. "Usually rain follows a storm like this. Birds that don’t catch a tail wind and coast all the way to California will be taking a bath soon. And think how lucky the other animals are. All the tanks will fill with water.”
No response from Veronica.
The stygian blackness they encountered when they entered had become an eye-straining gloom. They sat facing the entrance to the cave, watching the storm. In truth, there was nothing to see except an occasional limb from a tree blowing past and uprooted plants whooshing by in transit. They were silent; Kim knew each was in her own thoughtful uncertainty. Finally Veronica said, “I saw a Black Phoebe before. They’re migrants. They’re usually back up north by now.”
No one commented. Silence again, except for the wind. Gradually, the noise dwindled by several decibels. Kim rubbed her upper arms with her hands. “It’s actually getting cool.”
A rumbling sound in the distance drew her to the cave’s entrance. She shouted back to the others, “Here comes the rain.” They joined her at the entrance. Soon, a downpour of rain as dense as the wall of sand had been descended to drench the earth. The first drops were strangely tinted rather than clear.
“It’s raining mud!” Veronica exclaimed.
“The rain is settling the sand and dust,” Kim said.
Thunder sounded from miles away, again and again. In the distance, flashes of lightening shot from sky to earth in jagged bolts of blue and yellow. Sheets of rain from the rounded rock exterior of the cave descended faster, heavier. The soil melted away in rivulets as they watched, and even the sandy floor of the cave's entrance became damp. When thunder sounded very close they retreated to the back wall.
Allie and Sara tried to make themselves comfortable on the ground. Veronica stood leaning against the rock. “Is it going to come in here? Is it going to flood the cave?”
Kim answered quickly. “We’re on a downward slope here and the wash is just to the east. Over there.” She pointed. “The water will follow the wash.”
“Then how can we get home? We came up the wash.”
“We’ll have to hike along the bank. It will be rougher going but we won’t get lost. I know the way back, but I brought my GPS just in case. In a gully-washer like this, the terrain can get changed.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It won’t be. We will have to be careful. The footing will be tricky because the ground and rocks are wet and slippery. We’ll buddy up and help each other. We’ll be home by noon, if this stops as soon as I think it will.”
“I hope it stops real soon. Being inside a skull – this place is creepy.”
Sara and Allie had been listening. Sara said, “I know what you mean, honey. I have enough trouble being inside my own head.”
Kim smiled at her, knowing her intent to lighten the others’ mood. It helped to mentally shake off her annoyance at Veronica’s constant questions and concerns. She stood and went to the entrance again. Allie followed.
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Kim.”
“Are you kidding? This is more fun than I’ve had in months. It would be perfect if the others weren’t here. Uh, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It would be perfect if there weren’t others here who are frightened and feel unsafe.”
Allie simply nodded. They stood watching the rain. The storm lessened in intensity; the sounds of thunder moved further away and slowly faded to nothing but the rain continued.
Suddenly, Kim cocked her head. She turned to face Allie an instant before Allie turned
toward her. “You heard that too, didn’t you?” Allie asked. “What was that? An animal crying?”
“Sounds more like a human.” They both paused again to listen to the noise, thin and reedy, distant and intermittent. After a minute or so, Kim said, “I heard the word ‘help’.”
“But…” Allie turned to look back at Sara and Veronica as if to reassure herself they were still there.
Kim said, “Don’t. Don’t say anything to the others. I’m going to see what’s up. Just tell them I’m checking things out to see how soon we can head back.” Without another word, she stepped outside. The raindrops that hit her were large, cold and hard-driven. She quickly moved out of sight of the others in the cave then turned her head slowly from side to side to locate the direction of the cry for help. Up-hill, and several hundred yards to the north-west.
She began to walk, slowly at first, assessing the footing and adjusting her gait, wiping the rain from her face with both hands and pausing briefly to listen. The sounds grew louder as she hiked; this had to be the right direction. After pushing herself to a faster pace, in six minutes she began to hear not only the shouts, but also made out sounds of panting, breathless curses and an occasional groan. Still, she saw nothing through the curtain of rain.
Watching her footing, she came to an abrupt halt at a dark patch on the ground. Then the illusion resolved its-self. It wasn’t ground; it was standing water, a pool about twenty feet by twelve feet across and probably twelve feet deep, a natural tank, a water catchment device created by Nature that made survival for animals possible in this normally parched land. The tank’s bottom and sides were of bedrock, slick as glass when wet. During severe droughts such tanks could go completely dry, but these days they were often replenished with water trucked-in by the Fish and Game Department. She had seen this particular tank on a map and knew its name: Charlie Died Tank.
She searched through the curtain of rain. There was a dark shape at the opposite side of the tank, the source of the anguished shouts.
She yelled, “Hey, who is that? Come over here.”
No answer, nothing but splashing sounds. Then a dark head came into view, a face red with effort and distorted by fear. A man. A man she recognized. Amos Wagner. Stunned, she said nothing but stood looking at him.
“Don’t just stand there! Get me out of here!”
A shudder that wasn’t produced by the cold and wet shook Kim’s body. What is he doing here? This can’t be a coincidence. Was he stalking her? She blurted her thought, “What are you doing here?”
“Get…me…out…of…here!”
She stood, paralyzed by a flood of memories: his diatribe about her Apache ancestry, his threat to get her EMT license revoked, and the real possibility that he had tried to kill her.
• • •
Chapter Thirty-Two
Silent now, Wagner desperately clutched at the edge of the tank which had filled to overflowing. The lip of solid rock curved down toward him but in a few areas, soil had encroached on its banks. He frantically grasped at the illusion of solid earth. The shallow layer of soil melted under his hands and spilled into the water. He lunged forward, trying to gain a hold with his fore-arms. Again he failed. Around the tank, Kim saw evidence of many other tries at extricating himself. From the way the water near him roiled, she could tell his feet were trying unsuccessfully to gain leverage on the tank’s vertical sides.
She knew from old photographs of the tank that skeletons of big horn sheep and mule deer lay at the bottom. They were victims of drowning during times of excess rain or had starved when trapped at the bottom when the tank was totally dry.
Suddenly, she pictured a human skeleton at the bottom and with it the thought, I could leave him here to drown and nobody would know. I could tell Allie I saw no one here. What a relief if would be, and if he’s the one who tried to kill me, what justice! She looked at his now-silent struggles and the anguish on his face. Then the thought, I could actually be enjoying this!
But she wasn’t. This gave her no pleasure at all. As soon as it registered, she shouted to him, “Stop struggling, you horse’s ass. Just tread water and I’ll get something to help you out.”
The rain had dwindled to a drizzle, and finally she could see the desert around her. She spotted a palo verde tree with downed limbs at its base. She ran to it as quickly as the wet, rocky terrain allowed. She spotted a five-foot long branch that was almost as big around as her wrist. It looked fairly solid, the green bark indicating it had fallen recently. It felt firm rather than rotting and porous. She carried it back to the tank, dropped it to the ground, and pushed it out over the water. Before she could stabilize it, he grabbed at it with both hands and pulled frantically, hand over hand. It slipped toward him, entered the tank and submerged briefly, surfaced, then floated away behind him. He turned and swam after it, clutched it again. It was too thin to provide flotation but he paddled back toward the bank with it and tried using it in different ways to support a climb out. She watched. At last he gave up the struggle and pushed it away, still treading water. His panting soared to a hoarse scream.
She turned without a word. He screamed again, “Come back! Come back you freaking Indian! Don’t leave me in here! Don’t leave me!”
She walked to the tree again and saw a branch growing close to the ground that looked shorter but thicker than the other. She tried to wrench it off with her hands, then kicked and stomped on it with her feet until it broke. She dragged it back to the tank, dropped it four feet from the bank and through clenched teeth said, “This time, wait until I stabilize it before you grab it!”
With effort, she rolled a large, heavy rock toward the branch. Then she pushed the limb out toward Wagner. “Wait!” she screamed at him. She quickly rolled the boulder onto her end of the branch and added her own weight by standing on it.
Wagner had only thirteen inches of wood to work with, but it was solid. He grasped it like any drowning man would. Kim saw his arm muscles quiver as he levered himself up onto the branch, then inched forward, slithering along it like an alligator emerging from a swamp.
When he cleared the water up to his waist, she stepped back. He retched violently and vomited the contents of his stomach that were mostly water. He was oblivious to all else but regaining solid earth. He continued to crawl forward until his feet were clear of the tank and collapsed prone onto the wet soil. He lay and panted; she stood and watched. His fingers had the shriveled look of someone in the water for a long time. His cotton shirt and shorts clung to him like a second skin. His sneakers had somehow stayed on through the ordeal. His white socks were now brown with dirt.
His bedraggled condition reminded Kim of her own rain-soaked clothing. She pulled her shirt out in front to relieve the clammy feeling, and tugged down the crotch of her shorts. She felt in her zipper pocket for her car keys. Reassured, she brought her pony tail over her shoulder and squeezed water out of her hair. Then she backed further away from the half-drowned man and mentally prepared to defend herself from attack, although he looked too weak to be much of a threat.
Finally Wagner got to his hands and knees. Head still hanging down, he muttered, “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it, Shit-for-Brains. Now get up and let’s go.”
Wagner staggered to his feet, the task made more difficult by exhaustion and the heavy covering of wet earth on the front of his body and one side of his face. “Where? I don’t think I can walk.”
“Try.”
He took two steps then stood with hands palm up and face raised to the sky, letting the drizzle wash him. He looked more closely at his palms. They were bleeding from several puncture wounds. He turned. “You! That was a palo verde branch. Those damned thorns tore me up!”
With that, Kim reached the limit of her patience and her tolerance. She stepped closer to him. “What do you think they did to me?” She displayed several bloody spots on her own hands. She grabbed his bicep and took a few steps toward the tank, dragging him along. “If
you’d prefer, you can go back in for another swim and I’ll pull you out with something more to your liking.”
His face twisted in horror. He jerked back, stumbled and went down hard on his butt. Looking up at her he gasped, “No, no, I didn’t mean it.”
Kim sighed, and sat down on the rock. “Do you want to stay here?”
“No!”
“Okay. We’re both going to rest a while. Then we’re going back to Skull Rock and on the way you are going to clear up a few things that are troubling me.” When she rose five minutes later and began to hike back he followed like an obedient child.
Soon the rain stopped completely. The sky showed forth in eternal blue again, permitting only a few scattered clouds for decoration as if proclaiming just another ordinary day, in which nothing at all unusual had happened. It brought a feeling of the surreal to Kim. She couldn’t shake it off, and with it the thought that somehow this day held more significant than she could imagine.
Reaching Skull Rock took twice as long as it had taken Kim to reach the tank. It was a downhill walk but Wagner’s exhaustion demanded a slower pace. They hiked in silence. In spite of her intention, she was not ready yet or perhaps just reluctant to learn the truth by questioning him.
They finally came in sight of the Rock to see the others standing outside the mouth of the cave. When they were closer Kim noticed Sara’s face was both puzzled and frightened, while Allie smiled and nodded at her knowingly. No one spoke until Veronica took her eyes off Wagner and said, “Some woman have a knack for finding a man just about anywhere.”
Kim led them safely down the mountain to her car, where Allie was given the job of driving the others home, while Kim turned back and hiked with Wagner to his car. In spite of his protests, she won the job of driving him home. She no longer felt any sense of threat from the man and on the way she pressed for more information about his reason for being in the Kofa. She gained enough information to satisfy her need to understand but the answers were not to her liking. Somehow she managed to contain her anger. Even Wagner didn’t deserve to feel its impact. She would save it for its rightful target. It was her turn to knock on Lon’s door in the middle of the night.
Fatal Refuge: a Mystery/Thriller (The Arizona Thriller Trilogy Book 2) Page 18
