the Haunted Mesa (1987)

by L'amour, Louis

  "Yes. My great-grandfather was ... was what you call He Who Rules. There was sudden attack. He was kill. Others took control, and we escape. Now my people live in far hills where nobody comes. Or nobody did come until Erik. Then all is change."

  Slowly, the story took shape. Evidently her family had ruled for many years, and then there had been a palace revolution. The evil ones took control, or the ones she implied were evil. Her family and a few others had escaped to the lonely canyons where nobody came, and lived as the Old Ones had lived.

  "The ones the Navajo called the Anasazi?"

  "Yes, I--" She caught her breath, and something moved out in the darkness.

  Mike Raglan stood very still. His gun was in his holster but he was wishing it was in his hand. There was something out there, something very close, something coming nearer, and nearer ...

  Chapter XI

  The face of Kawasi was very pale. She moved closer to him.

  The sky was clear, blue with early night, and already a few bright stars shone. Downriver and across loomed the long dark bulk of the great mesa.

  "It's all right, Kawasi." He spoke quietly. "No need to be afraid."

  Something moved out there beyond the firelight, something drawing closer. His hand went to his gun. Suddenly it was there, looming across the fire at the very edge of the light.

  It was a dog, a very large dog. It was Chief.

  He sighed in relief. "Chief?" He spoke quietly. "Come, Chief!"

  The mastiff remained where he was, testing the air with his nose, watchful and wary. "It's all right, Chief. Don't you remember me?"

  The big dog came forward another step, then another. "Come on, Chief. It's all right. Where's Erik, Chief? Where's your master?"

  The dog drew nearer, then came around the fire, and Mike put out a hand. "You remember me, Chief? We're old friends. We came out of Tibet together, you and I. We walked down the mountains and we camped in the desert."

  With sudden realization the big dog leaped up, yelping with excitement. "Easy! Easy, boy! You're too big for that now! You'd knock a man down!"

  Kawasi had drawn back in amazement while he ruffled the hair around Chief's neck and talked to him. "Where'd you leave Erik, Chief? We've got to find him, Chief."

  The big dog was beside himself with joy. "Settle down now, boy, and I'll find you something to eat. Seems to me I saw a case of dog food back here." He went over to a box under the drafting table and got out two cans of dog food and emptied them into the dog's dish. Chief wasted no time but went to eating as if starved.

  Kawasi stared at him. "It is a beast? You speak like to person."

  Mike chuckled. "You've asked a good question, Kawasi. To me, Chief has always been a person. We met each other when he was a tiny puppy in Tibet, up in the Chang-Tang. He was given to me by an old friend there, and I gave him to Erik when he was coming out here. I thought he might need him. He's been with Erik a while now but I guess at heart we both still felt he was my dog."

  He looked up at her, apologetically. "I was traveling a lot and had no place to keep a dog. This fellow is used to big, open country. He needs room to move."

  Chief had emptied his dish and Mike filled it with water. The big dog drank greedily.

  "You like beasts?" She was puzzled. "Why is this?"

  He glanced at her. "You do not have dogs over there?"

  "It is not permitted." Kawasi said. "But even if it was"--she shook her head--"we would not think of keeping a beast." She puckered her brow. "Why is this? Why you like him?"

  "He's my friend," Mike replied. "The dog was the first animal domesticated by man, and they've been companions these thousands of years. I expect the first dogs were captured wolf puppies that were raised for food, and they became such good companions the people decided not to eat them. Men and dogs began hunting together and that settled it, I guess."

  "We do not keep beasts except for food and for skins," she said primly.

  "You miss a lot," he said. "Of course, there are people among us who do not keep dogs for pets." He paused. "I think it is more a custom among Europeans and Americans than others, with the exception of some nomadic peoples."

  " 'Nomadic'? I do not know what it is."

  "People who wander from place to place, often driving cattle or sheep to fresh grazing lands. Do you not have people of that kind?"

  She frowned again. "I do not know. There is great desert. I do not believe anybody goes past it, ever. There are miles of plantings, although not so much as long ago. All is controlled by the Lords of Shibalba."

  "Shibalba?"

  "It is the name of where I live."

  "The Maya have a legend of an underground place where live the enemies of men. It is called Xibalba."

  "It is the same, I think."

  He added fuel to the fire, and a few sparks flew up. "Once when we talked you said you saw something familiar in the mesa over there? Do you remember?"

  She looked over her shoulder, then shifted position so the mesa was no longer behind her. "It is like a place I know on the Other Side. It cannot be, yet ..."

  "You think it is the same?"

  "It cannot be, and yet I think ... it is like, but different somehow. I do not like it," she added. "I do not even like to think about it."

  Chief lay close to them, his head on his paws. Mike looked out across the mesa, his eyes straying beyond to the silver of the river. The stars were very bright, the night dark. Somewhere, far off, a coyote howled. Chief lifted his big head, listening.

  Kawasi was silent, staring into the fire. Mike slowly began arranging his thoughts, trying to face his problem and decide what was necessary. There was no use in going it blind. He must have a plan, but one he could adjust to circumstances.

  Of what he was facing he had no idea, beyond hostile people in a world of which he knew nothing. A dozen times in the past he had come upon accounts of mysterious disappearances or appearances for which there was no logical explanation. Ships, planes, even a whole Chinese Army had vanished without logical explanation. But what was logical? Only that which men knew, and they know so little.

  Erik was gone.

  A thin film of dust lay over the worktable and the blueprints. The sleeping bag was rolled up tight, something one did in desert country for fear of snakes, spiders, or scorpions taking refuge in one's bed. They were not the best of sleeping companions.

  He unrolled the bag. "You can sleep in it. I'll make out with Erik's parka."

  He brought fuel closer to the fire, then walked out away from the ruin. The mesa top was thick with powdery soil and only a sparse growth of weeds. The night was cool; the stars seemed very close. All was still, and he knew the nearest habitation was at least an hour's drive, unless there was some Navajo hogan south of the river, which was deep and offered no crossing nearer than Mexican Hat.

  The night reminded him of Sinkiang, the Kunluns, and the Pamirs. This was a ghostly, haunted land. Men had lived here and died here, but others had vanished--into what? He knew the feeling from the Kunluns, those mountains that border Tibet on the north, virtually unknown to climbers or travelers, offering few passes, yet one of the mightiest mountain ranges on earth. Only a few local people knew those mountains, and there were areas into which even they did not venture.

  He listened into the night, thinking of tomorrow when he would examine the kiva.

  There was no sound. The big dog walked out to stand beside him, testing the wind with his nose. Deep in his chest he growled. Mike dropped a hand to the dog's head. "Watch 'em, boy!" he said softly. "You watch 'em now!"

  How he wished the dog might tell him what he knew, what he smelled. Yet the growl warned him they were not alone. There was somebody, something out there.

  He walked back, picking up more fuel for the fire. Kawasi was in the sleeping bag, and her even breathing told him she was probably asleep. He touched the butt of his pistol again.

  What was it like over there? Would his pistol evenwork ? Suppose it would not
? Suppose the passing of the veil wrought some unexpected change in him? In his personality? His comprehension? His awareness?

  Kawasi seemed all right, and there had certainly been nothing physically wrong with the man who had come into his condo at Tamarron.

  If he did go over, what could he do? He knew nothing of the place, nothing of its customs or its people except that they were different from here, no doubt different from any place he had visited.

  The Hopi and some other Indians believed this was the Fourth World. Of the two first worlds they professed to remember little or nothing, but because the Third World had become evil, they had fled through a hole in the ground into this world. That was one of the legends.

  Another story said the Hopi had crossed the sea to get here, but the disparity did not bother him. The world of the story has no boundaries, and no barrier can keep a story from traveling, although it may take on local color.

  He was not surprised that the Hopi had several stories of their origin. Often a man of one tribe would bring home to his lodge a woman of another, and when she bore children she would relate to them the stories she had heard as a child, and so stories from one tribe became the stories of another.

  Mike Raglan squatted beside the fire. He had to think this thing through, weigh the problems, and choose a course of action. Erik Hokart was gone, and Erik was depending on him for help.

  Apparently Erik was a prisoner, but was he actually in what they had been thinking of as the Other Side, or was he held somewhere here? The idea of a kidnapping still seemed reasonable. It was all very well to talk of a parallel world, whatever that meant, but he was a rational human being who believed in dealing with the here and the now. He had trouble enough dealing with one world without thinking of another.

  Whoever they were who had Erik had shown themselves willing and capable of using force. The ruins of the burned-out cafe were proof enough of that, and the man who had gotten into his condo was another.

  He poked sticks into the coals of the fire, which was dying down. Suppose it was a simple kidnapping? Their next step would be a note demanding ransom, but who would receive such a note? Erik had no relatives, or none Mike had ever heard of. Not many people knew that he, Mike Raglan, was a friend of Erik's. If he knew of no one to whom a ransom note might be sent, how could the kidnappers know?

  A foreign government could be ruled out. Erik had not done any government work for some time and it was doubtful if anyone had known of that. With the speed of change in such areas, whatever Erik had done would now be out of date and no longer important.

  Revenge? But for what? Erik was not a man who made enemies. Always a gentleman, a quiet, hardworking man who never paraded his skills or his wealth, he was a man who did not attract animosity.

  Nonetheless, he was gone. He was not here on the mesa. His car had been abandoned in town. His possessions were here, even his shaving kit.

  Mike poked at the fire, shying from the problem he must face. Fantastic as the story seemed to be, Erik was missing, and wherever he was he was depending on Mike Raglan to help him, to savethem . He had written in the plural, so there had to be somebody with him. Kawasi might have the answer. She might be able to tell him who the other person was, if it was not Kawasi herself.

  He looked away from his fire, listening. Had he heard something? Chief was sleeping, or seeming to sleep. Earlier he had growled, so there had been something out there.

  A coyote? A mountain lion? Or some other person? Orthing ?

  Mike was glad he had talked to Gallagher. There was no nonsense about the man but he did have imagination. How much of the story he accepted was open to question, but at least he had listened.

  The burned-out cafe was very much his business, and he had seen the white van. Whatever base they had might have been established for years, and those who lived there might be known in the community. Gallagher was working on the case, and he would keep hunting for an answer, no matter where it came from.

  The night was very still. The stars were bright. A soft wind moved across the mesa, stirring the stiff leaves, rustling them. Mike listened for any unnatural sound, any whisper that did not belong to the usual night.

  Old stories of haunted houses and mysterious happenings came to mind. Suppose there was truth to some of them? Suppose some of the stories of witches and ghosts had derived from visits across the veil? Some of his Indian friends accepted things as true that a white man would doubt, but the white man judged from limited knowledge and might be too quick to scoff.

  He hunched his shoulders under Erik's parka. The night was cold, as desert nights are apt to be. He stared into the outer darkness but could see nothing.

  The world over there was evil. In what way?Evil was a word with many meanings. Evil was to some a sin against God. To others it was a sin against society. What had been the evil from which the Anasazi fled into this Fourth World? A social evil? He doubted it. Men did not flee from a social evil. They passed laws, or they ignored such evils; yet this evil had caused them to flee, to abandon the world in which they lived, leaving all behind.

  What was the evil from which they fled? What was so fearsome, so terrible, that they would leave all behind? What was the evil some had been willing to accept by returning?

  That was a question he must ask Kawasi.

  Mike Raglan got to his feet. He added fuel to the lire. He peered into the darkness. Why could he not sleep? What was it out there that lurked, waiting? Why did it not close in, attack him? Was the evil that lay over on the Other Side a physical thing? Was it something that might attack, that could attack? Or was it some more subtle evil?

  He glanced toward Kawasi. She slept, soundly. He walked toward her, looking all around. The ancient wall was close behind her, solid as the day it was built.

  He sank down beside her and looked at his watch. It was scarcely midnight and he had been believing it was almost morning. The flames danced weirdly; shadows shifted and changed. The butt of the gun under his hand was cool. He eased it in the holster for quicker use.

  Chief's head was up. Mike looked where the dog was peering into the night. He started to rise. A hand touched his.

  "Don't!" It was Kawasi. "Do not go out there! Not now, no matter what happens!"

  Chapter XII

  He hesitated, a little irritated. What was there to fear?

  "They come to the fire," Kawasi whispered. "They watch the fire."

  For several minutes, neither spoke. Raglan listened, touching his tongue to dry lips. What "they" were he had no idea, but he remembered the creatures who responded to the flash of light or fire from the top of the mesa. Were these the same?

  He heard a vague rustling, a stirring, then silence. Should he put out the fire? It would not be easy to do without exposing himself more than he wished and he did not like the idea of being left in the dark.

  He started to move and her hand touched his arm. "They must not see you," she whispered. "Be still, and they will go away as the fire dies down."

  He wished it were morning, still hours away. He liked to deal with trouble in the clear light. The creatures he had seen seemed manlike, and he did not want to kill anything. In any event, a killing could lead to many questions and much trouble. If there was an investigation, and there certainly would be, how could he explain his situation? Who would believe such a story?

  Hunched in the shadows beyond the fire, they waited. Kawasi sat very close, her arm warm against his. She, at least, was real. Or was she? Whatwas real?

  The fire died to red coals and a few thin tendrils of flame. His leg was cramped and he changed position carefully, trying to peer beyond the fire and into the night. He could see the dark rim of the rocks, and beyond it the sky where the night told its beads with stars.

  No shadows, no movement. "I think they've gone," he whispered.

  "Wait!" She put a restraining hand on his arm.

  He relaxed slowly. Tired of the long waiting, he felt his eyes close. He opened them, shaki
ng his head to clear it of sleep. He must get some rest. He'd had very little since leaving the East, as his first night's rest at the condo had been interrupted.

  He was leaning against the cot, his head against the edge of the bedroll. His eyes closed. Footsteps awakened him, and it was broad daylight. He started to get up, then stopped.

  Kawasi was gone!

  Gone where? He got up hurriedly, then stopped abruptly. Gallagher was standing outside the door, looking in at him.

  Mike Raglan looked quickly around. Kawasi was gone--gone as though she had never been. At least she was not here. He looked around again, then stepped outside.

  Gallagher was staring at him. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

  "She's gone. Kawasi is gone."

  He looked down the length of the mesa. Sunlight was touching the rocks in the distance and Navajo Mountain was aglow with a reflection of the rising sun. The rocks over toward where Rainbow Bridge stood were a brilliant rust-red.

  "What d'you mean, gone?"

  "She was here, right beside me when I fell asleep. We were waiting for the fire to die down." He paused, realizing how foolish his words must sound. "There was something out there, somethings . She said they were attracted by the fire."

  Gallagher's hands were on his hips. "You say she's gone. Gone where?" Gallagher's eyes were cool. "I drove out here to ask her some questions, a lot of questions. Now you say she's gone."

  He made a sweeping gesture. "Gonewhere ? Where is there to go? Your car is over there, just where you left it. I didn't see anybody when I drove over, and I started before daylight. I am going to ask you again, Raglan. Where is she?"

  "I'm telling the truth. She was right here beside me. We were both listening to whatever was out there, and I was dead tired. I caught myself nodding a couple of times and tried to stay awake. I guess I fell asleep."

  Gallagher looked around. "You say something was out here?"

  "Just beyond where you're standing, I'd guess. We heard a rustling, a sound of movement. I saw nothing and I don't believe she did. Whatever it was, she said they were drawn by the fire and would go away when it died down."