"It is not possible. They are here."
A shadow flickered by the window. I went to the cash register. A stout, baldheaded man in an apron came to take my money. I paid him. "Friend, I am Erik Hokart. I am building southwest of here and I need a gun. Have you got one?"
He just looked at me. "Mister, I got a gun. Ever'body hereabouts has one, but I wouldn't lend my gun to anybody."
Turning, I looked outside. My Jeep stood waiting. Nobody was near. If we...
Kawasi was gone!
Chapter VII
For a moment I stood perfectly still, my hands flat upon the counter, my back to the window. Had Kawasi escaped somehow without being seen? Or had they taken her through a back door?
"Sir," I said quietly, "keep your gun but let me warn you that if they come in, you had better use it. They may decide they want no witnesses.
"My name is Erik Hokart, as I have told you. Please remember it when inquiries are made. If the law does not investigate, I have a friend who will. His name is Mike Raglan."
"Look here, Mister, I don't know what kind of trouble you're in but I'll call the police, and--"
"From the kitchen, then. If you pick up that telephone they will kill you."
"Who's 'they'?" He peered past me. "I don't even see nobody."
"I'll run for my Jeep. You'd better get out of here, too."
Mike Raglan put down the daybook and swore, softly and bitterly. He glanced again at the book, frowning.
The daybook had been written for Erik himself, until he evidently got the idea it would be the easiest way to communicate to Mike what had taken place.
Quickly, Mike checked his haversack and his gun, and slipped his boot-knife into place. As he stopped in the doorway, he took care to check the position of his car. Several other vehicles were parked nearby but all seemed empty, and there were no cars he did not recognize. He went to his car, got in, and promptly locked the doors after checking behind the seat. Then he backed out and headed for the highway.
He paused at the security gate. "If anybody asks for me, you don't know whether I am in or not," he told the guard.
Several times he checked his rearview mirror but saw no evidence he was followed. Hours later he pulled into the small Utah town, looking for the cafe he remembered from previous visits.
It was gone! On the site were a few blackened timbers and still-rising wisps of smoke. Up the street was another cafe that had been closed on his last trip due to a slackening of business during the off-season. It was open now. With another careful look around he parked the car where he could watch it and went inside.
Three Navajos sat at the counter drinking coffee, and a truck driver was finishing a meal. His rig stood outside, close to the pickups belonging to the Navajos. There was a girl sitting alone in a back booth.
He dropped into a seat not far from her. When the waitress came for his order, he commented, "Looks like you had a fire up the street."
"I'll say! It put my girlfriend out of her job! She was waiting tables on the morning shift--then the fire and she's out of work."
He ordered ham and eggs. "Anybody hurt?"
"Jerry. He owned the place. He's in the hospital now, if you can call it that. The cook managed to get him out with their clothes afire. The cook was burned a little, but Jerry ... he's in a bad way.
"They say he was hurt somehow other than the burns, but nobody knows much about it."
"How'd it start?"
"Who knows? The cook swears it started up front."
She went to turn in his order and he glanced at the girl in the booth. She was just sitting there with a cup of coffee in front of her. He looked again. She was very attractive, but subdued somehow.
The waitress returned with his coffee. "You should have seen that fire! Like an explosion, almost, only there wasn't any explosion, just a sort ofpoof . The whole building was gone in less time than it takes to tell it."
"What's Jerry say about it?"
"Him? He can't talk. The cook says there were at least two customers the last time he looked up front, and he looked because he was getting ready to close up. There was a girl, and this man who asked Jerry for a gun--"
"A gun?"
"The cook heard him, and stopped what he was doing to listen. Fine-looking man, he said, looked like a businessman, but a mighty scared one. Jerry turned him down, of course. Nobody but a damned fool loans a gun to a stranger--or, for that matter, to a friend."
"What then?"
"All of a sudden this girl is in the kitchen. The cook started to ask her what she thought she was doing, but she ran out the back door.
"The cook heard the front door close and headed up front, and that was when it happened. There was that suddenpoof and Jerry was knocked right into his arms and then the whole place was in flames. He dragged Jerry outside."
"What happened to the man who wanted the gun?"
The waitress shrugged. "Ran off, I guess. His car is still here, keys in the ignition. The chief of police impounded it. He's got it over at the station."
"And the girl?"
The waitress's voice lowered, but she cast a meaningful glance at the girl in the back booth. "Nobody knows, butshe's been around all morning. Looks like she's watching for somebody."
Mike glanced at the girl and their eyes met. He looked away. "That man who asked for the gun? Did he say anything else?"
"Just something about him building down in the desert, but we all knew that." She went for his breakfast and returned. "This is a big country, Mister, but there aren't that many people, and everybody usually knows what's going on and where.
"He's bought gas here in town, groceries, and sometimes he eats here. I've seen him around, and he's good-looking. Started all the girls wondering if he's single. But he minds his own affairs and bothers nobody. His name is Hokart."
"Where can I find the chief?"
"He's down to Mexican Hat on business but should be in later today."
"Any strangers in town?"
"No, except for her. There's not a lot of traffic through here in the winter. In the summer we get tourists, but not like over in Durango. We don't have the narrow-gauge train and we're off the main route, but we do get tourists." She looked at him. "Did you know Erik Hokart?"
He hesitated a moment. "He's a friend of mine. That's why I'm here."
She brought the coffeepot and refilled his cup. The Navajos had gone; so had the truck driver. She looked at Mike. "You aren't from around here?"
"I spent some time in this country, years back. In fact, I told Hokart a good deal about it before he decided to come out. He was from back east, but he had fallen in love with this country. He planned to make his home here."
She left to get on with her work. Mike glanced over at the girl, then took his plate and his coffee and crossed to her booth. "Kawasi?" he asked.
The momentary fear left her eyes. "You are Mike Raglan?" She spoke the name in two distinct syllables.
He sat down. "Do you speak English?"
"Small. Old man tell me."
"What happened to Erik?"
"They have him. They take him."
"Did they burn the restaurant? How?"
"I do not know. It is ... a thing ... like ..." She touched the edge of the saucer. Lifting his cup, she took the saucer by the edge and made a backhand move as if to throw it. "They ..." She gestured again. "It is fire then, big fire, very quick."
"These things they throw? They are big?"
"Small. Smaller as"--she indicated the top of the cup--"so."
"They burn?"
"They break, then burn."
"Have the police talked to you yet?"
"No."
"Kawasi, I know nothing of your land, wherever it is. I know nothing of your people. I have read what Erik wrote, but I must know who your enemies are, where they have taken Erik, and what they will do to him. I must also know how to get where Erik is."
Suddenly, Mike thought of her. "Have you eaten? Do you have
any money?"
"I eat nothing. To sleep I give money."
He motioned to the waitress and ordered for her. When the woman was gone, Kawasi said, "How to get back I do not know. I am far from place I hear of."
"Could you find the place if I took you back there?"
"I do not know. I look."
For several minutes he waited while she ate. What the hell was happening? What kind of a mess was this? Certainly, from Erik's notes and the burned cafe, he understood that these people, whoever they were, were dangerous. They were not playing games. But who were they? What were they?
"Tell me what you can. I know nothing."
"Long ago"--Kawasi made a sweeping gesture--"my people live all about here. They cut trees to build house or for burn. They plant corn and squash. No rain comes. Year after year, no enough rain. Fierce people come. They kill our people, steal grain. Soon they camp nearby to steal whatever. We are not many. Some go away.
"Long time before, we come to this place from another. We come from a place turning evil. We come to escape evil. Some wish to return. Two go back, and they say all is green there, plenty of rain, and only a few people there, so we go back.
"It was against old beliefs, but our people feared hunger and the fierce enemies coming down from the North, so some went back.
"But the evil was still there. It had not gone. Our people had closed the top of their heads and could no longer hear the Voices."
"Where is this place you went back to?" Mike waited, half afraid of what he knew he would hear.
"It is on Other Side. I do not know what to say, what words. It is like this, only ... onlydifferent ."
"You said they went back. How did they go?"
"There are places, openings sometimes, never always. Places where can go through to Other Side. The old man who tells me your words, he got through but never get back. He was young man then. He was what he say a 'cow-boy'? They come to look for him. Somehow they know, he is on Other Side. He very ... he keeps away from them. Somehow .... they do not find him. I think he kills one man, but he finds ways to hide."
"He is there yet?"
"Still there. Some of my people know. They help him. But he very how you say? Strong? He know how to hide. Now I do not think they look any more. Maybe. I do not know."
"What do you call him?"
"He is Johnny. Only Johnny."
"Your people were the cliff dwellers? The old ones the Navajo call the Anasazi?"
"Yes."
Mike glanced out the window. The street looked the same as always. A truck was parked across the way, its driver coming toward the cafe. His own Jeep was in plain sight. Two local men stood across the street talking. All seemed to be as usual.
What was he to do? If they had taken Erik back, wherever "back" was, then he was gone, perhaps gone forever.
"What will they do with Erik?"
"Many questions. When no more answers, they kill. They hate much and they fear. They rule all, yet they live in fear. They fear to lose their power, they fear we who do not agree will get strength from Other Side. They fear ideas from your side. Any who get through they kill."
"Then some do get through?"
She shook her head. "Not often. In my memory only two, I think. Or maybe they did not tell us all. Long ago there was a boy, a young man who got through. I do not know what happened. Long, long before that, there were two men who hunt gold. They were tortured, killed, then left on Other Side."
"What do they know about us? The people on this side?"
"Much. Sometimes they send men to steal. To kill. You have things to listen, things to speak long distances. This they want."
And Erik was a specialist in the field. What he did not know, nobody knew. If they discovered this they might keep him alive.
"What about the kiva?"
"It is mystery place. Long ago story say it is secret way to pass through. The kiva is sacred place, but evil men close it up. Now they want open."
She sipped her coffee. "I think they make house now. I think they want always place, an all time open place to go and come."
Mike watched the street, trying to bring his thoughts into focus. What was going on here? Was this real? Or some elaborate hoax? He knew nothing about physics but he knew such things were said to be possible, that parallel worlds could exist. At least, some believed they could. He had seen things in Central Asia and Tibet ... could there be a connection? He doubted it.
Erik's cry for help must be heeded. Whatever else might or might not be true, he was in trouble, and he had called on Mike for help.
"Over there? After your people went back from here, what happened?"
She shook her head. "I know little. For a time they lived as always, then change. It was my ancestor who began it.
"He was very young boy when, by himself, he built a larger dam to save water. He grew fine crops. He found new ways to do things. He created devices--what you call machines--to do things. The evil ones decided he was bewitched and killed him.
"They could not kill his thoughts. Those who killed him began to use his magic. They built stronger walls and larger houses and they built other dams. Then they made laws to say who can have water and when. People accepted the laws because they were good and they kept away much trouble. But the ones who said yes or no on water soon made other laws which were not good. So some of us left them and went to a new place to live as we always had.
"They came against us because we did not obey. Some they killed and some they took as slaves, but then we found a place where my ancestor had worked when building things, and we found some other things he had made and some he had begun to make. We used those things to fight them and they left us alone. Johnny helped. He said my ancestor was another Davinch."
"Da Vinci? Leonardo da Vinci was an artist who invented many things."
"I think so."
"You have come over to this side. Have you done this often?"
"It is not permitted. Somehow they know. I do not know how, but instantly they know. If one comes through he is seized. They do not rest until he is taken."
"What about those who rule? Do they go over?"
"They say no, yet sometimes do. Or once they did and then a great water covered the place and for long time they could not until Erik opened the kiva."
"But there are other ways? He who drew the line on Erik's blueprints must have come some other way."
"There are sometime ways. I do not understand but sometimes there are openings. That is how I am here."
"The great water was probably what we call Lake Powell. We built a dam to stop the water of the Colorado and drowned most of what was Glen Canyon."
They were both silent. His eyes sought the street. Suppose they came now? What would he do?
"I must help him," he said.
"You cannot. They have him."
"Where will they take him?"
"It is a bad place, a place of fear. It is an old place, a place that was there before we entered into the Fourth World, your world. I have not been there but he who was my mother's father knew it."
She looked at him with sudden realization. "Now it is you they must take. They must have you. They wish none to know their world exists and now you do."
"And you also."
She shrugged a shoulder. "They know of me. I am hated. I am wanted most of all. I am head of family now, of clan. They look to me. I am descend from He Who Had Magic, the old one who made many things. I must go back."
"There's the kiva."
"No. That is their way. They will watch and they are very near to it."
"But you came!"
"My way is not sure, very dangerous, but there is a way that is open, most times open. They do not know it. We do not. Only the Saqua know."
"The Saqua? The hairy ones?"
"You know of them? They are not people, but they know things others do not. They come to hunt or to take sheep to eat."
"Sheep? From the Indians?"
"They take sheep. I do not know whose sheep."
He finished his coffee. "We had better get away from here and do some planning."
Raglan started to rise but a hand dropped on his shoulder. He glanced up.
The man was stocky, strongly built. He wore a badge. "Mind? I've a few questions for the lady. For you, too, for that matter."
He turned and called to the waitress. "Marie? Another cup of coffee."
He glanced from one to the other. "I'm Gallagher. I'll ask the questions."
Chapter VIII
He glanced at Mike Raglan, then at the girl. "What's your name, ma'am?"
"Kawasi."
"You from around here?"
"I am ... tour-ist." She spoke calmly, without hesitation or fear.
"You're an Indian?"
"Long ago my people live near here. I have come to see where it was."
He turned to Raglan. "You two old friends?"
"We've just met. I recognized her from the description of a mutual friend--Erik Hokart."
"Hokart? Is he the one who plans to build somewhere down the river? Some kind of scientist, isn't he?"
"That's his reputation, but he's a successful businessman as well. The two do not always go together. Yes, he loves this part of the country and planned to build a home there. He made a fortune in electronics and can afford to live wherever he wishes."
Gallagher took his coffee from the waitress and sipped it, then turned his attention to Kawasi. "Were you in the restaurant when it burned?"
"No, but I was in it just a moment before. When I saw those men I was frightened. I ran."
"What men?"
"I do not know them. There were two, perhaps another. I am not sure. Mr. Hokart was afraid and went to the counter to ask the man for a gun. The man would not give it."
"He was right. What did Hokart do then?"
"I do not know. I am gone."
"Where'd you go?"
"I hide. Then for room for sleep."
the Haunted Mesa (1987) Page 5
