Zipacna struck again with the stabbing fingers, and again they cut deep. Blood streaming down his face, Mike dodged another stabbing blow and slipped inside, smashing both fists to the body, then whipping a right hook over Zipacna's shoulder that split his cheekbone.
Zipacna staggered and Mike moved in, smashing another hook to the body, and then a left that crunched Zipacna's nose. Zipacna staggered, then fell. Scrambling to his feet, he fought like a madman, clawing at Mike's face with steellike fingers.
Mike slammed another blow to the body, but it was corded with muscle. Nevertheless, Zipacna winced at the blow, and Mike put everything he had into a right uppercut, turning his body with the weight behind it.
The fist collided with Zipacna's chin. His feet left the ground and he came down hard.
Turning swiftly, Mike lunged for the opening he hoped was there. In that flashing instant he saw that Johnny was gone, but just as he reached the spot, something thrown hard from behind struck him behind the ear.
He felt himself falling, and in that last instant of consciousness he lunged forward, then fell, face down. Something seized him violently by the collar and he was jerked along the ground. Desperately, only half-conscious, he tried to struggle, but the vicious grip on his collar would not yield. He was dragged roughly along the ground, and in that instant his last grip on consciousness failed.
Blood.
There was blood on the ground where he lay. The side of his face was against the earth and his eyes were open and he was staring at blood on the grass, blood on the sand.
It was his blood. His mind told him that, although he could not have explained how he knew. He moved a hand, wanting to touch his face.
"Hey! He's comin' out of it! He isn't dead yet."
"Hard man to kill," somebody said.
Somebody knelt beside him and gentle fingers touched his face. "He's cut on the forehead," somebody said, and then a woman's voice said, "It was Zipacna."
The voice was that of Kawasi.
"I'm all right." He spoke aloud. "Somebody threw something, hit me on the back of the head."
"You were hit, all right." That was Gallagher speaking. "You've got a welt back there as big as both my fists."
Struggling, Mike sat up. "I'm all right," he repeated. "Something grabbed me back there."
"It was Chief," Gallagher said. "He pulled you through."
"He what?"
"Grabbed you by the collar and pulled you through-- just in time."
Carefully, Raglan got to his feet. He swayed for an instant, then steadied himself. "Did anything else come through?" He looked at Kawasi. "I mean, except our crowd?"
"Nobody. Nothing."
"Mike?" It was Erik Hokart. "Thanks. Thanks for both of us."
"It was nothing," he lied, "simply nothing at all."
He looked around. "Where are we?"
Gallagher hooked his thumbs behind his belt. "On top of No Man's, waiting for a helicopter to take us off."
"Isn't there a trail? There was supposed to be a trail."
"There is one," Gallagher said, "but we haven't found it yet. You come over with me next week and I'll hike it with you."
His head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache. Tentatively, he touched his brow. It was caked with dried blood now. He had been cut to the bone at least twice. He wanted to get cleaned up, and then he wanted to lie down. He just wanted to rest, to sleep. He wanted to sleep for a week. He said as much.
"Not yet," Gallagher said, "I've got something to show you." He would not explain.
The helicopter took them back to the Haunted Mesa. At the ruin, Erik began gathering his belongings, and Mike picked up his backpack. He could see his car, not too far away. "We'll go back to Tamarron," he said to Kawasi. "Erik, you'd better bring Melisande and come with me. You, too, Johnny. There's plenty of room."
"Mike?" Gallagher said. "Got something you should see. That there spacequake or whatever it was happened last night. Happened just after Chief pulled you through the hole. Seems like ever'body wasn't so lucky."
"What do you mean?"
Gallagher had been leading him toward the kiva. Now he lifted a hand and pointed.
Where the window had been there were some fallen stones, and behind them an intact stone wall. Intact but for one thing.
A human body cannot pass through a solid. Or can it? The brick wall was there, and in the middle of it was Volkmeer's head, a shoulder, and one arm with a grasping hand.
The stones of the ancient wall, apparently undisturbed for centuries, were built around him, perhaps even through him. Somewhere on the other side was the rest of him, the part that did not make it through. Volkmeer was dead. To all intents and purposes he might have been dead, almost mummified, for centuries.
"Try explaining that," Gallagher said. "Just try."
"You explain it," Raglan said. "I'm a stranger here myself."
They stood silent for a minute, and then Gallagher said, "Eden's gone. Deeded the place to Mary and just pulled out."
At the helicopter Gallagher said, "Want me to fly you back?"
"We'll drive," Raglan said, "But thanks." He paused a minute, then said, "Gallagher? Did you ever make fire with a bow and blunt arrow?"
"Sure. Lots of times when I was a youngster. An old Paiute showed me how."
Mike Raglan walked out away from the ruin, and thrust a stick in the ground, tying a red bandana to the end. "They should be able to see that," he said.
At the base of it he placed a crude bow, fashioned from a somewhat bent stick and a piece of rawhide, which he looped around a blunt arrow. Taking a short board from the ruin he gouged out a hole to receive the end of the arrow, then cut a notch from the hole to the edge of the board. In the hole he placed a few shavings; at the notch, the tinder for a small fire.
From his backpack he took a small magnifying glass and placed it on the top of a rock nearby.
Gallagher shook his head. "What's all that about? I don't get it."
"For the Saqua," Raglan said. "They need fire, they worship fire, but I don't believe they know how to make fire."
Kawasi was waiting for him at the car. Melisande and Erik were in the back seat.
Gallagher had walked over with him. "You're leaving, then?" He waved a hand. "What about all this?"
"All of what?" Mike Raglan looked at him wideeyed. "I don't know what you are talking about, Gallagher. Erik thought about building a house out here but changed his mind. We came out to get him. That's all there is."
"Are you crazy? You've got the greatest story ever. You could write a book, you could--"
Mike Raglan started the car. He looked over at Gallagher, extending his hand.
"I could," he said, "but who'd believe it?"
the Haunted Mesa (1987) Page 32
