Dr. Parker said, “These remains, protected from the elements, would degrade slowly.”
“Quite accurate, sir,” Vorchek responded. “These well preserved piles were vacated centuries ago. We must explore further.” We did. It took us a good half hour to get past that junk. Theresa stated that the extent of the ruins verified a once large population. Parker, besides marveling at the enormous size of the chamber, concluded that abandonment had been deliberate, with no signs of burning or demolition as was commonly found at surface sites. Vorchek wondered to himself where the people had gone. I suggested that they got sick of the cave and climbed back out, there to be done in by their enemies. Vorchek rebuked me with curt disdain, “Mr. Walters, you ignore evidence with the supreme confidence of the professional fool.”
That was too much. At the top of my lungs I snapped at him, “Listen, pal, you yanked me down here, keeping me in the dark from the start. I didn’t agree to this-- wouldn’t have if I’d known-- and you never tell me anything until I squawk. If I’m such a stupid clown, why did you want me?
Vorchek harshly replied, “Insurance, my boy, insurance. You are my ace in the hole. Miss Delaney, I believe that is the correct term?”
She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.”
Parker, who also exhibited puzzlement, stepped forward, said, “Let it pass, Vorchek. We should get on with business.”
The professor seemed to instantly get a grip on himself. I couldn’t see his face well, but among the shifting shadows of his bearded features I spied a wan grin. He said, “To be sure, Doctor Parker. These matters hang heavy. Insurance, I said, Mr. Walters? Naturally I refer to your youthful strength. A strong, healthy lad such as yourself must come in handy during our difficult expedition.”
That mollified me a bit. I felt a little better about the situation for about three seconds. Then in rapid succession fresh circumstances got me jumping and hot and bothered all over again. During the quiet pause ensuing from our bitter exchange my ears attuned to distinct sounds approaching from farther out in that immensely large cavern room. My scalp prickled when I spied distant, flickering lights heading toward us. Without further word we grouped together, huddling shoulder to shoulder, awaiting what was coming.
IV. Captives of a Sort
I refused to believe it. I denied the evidence of my eyes. Men down here, a lot of them, maybe a hundred, maybe more. From their burning torches I saw their faces, their forms, plainly enough. They were Indians without a doubt, though their features didn’t quite match those I knew in the state. They all wore leather loincloths and sandals, some of them leather jackets that left their arms bare. The latter were grotesquely painted in the face and arms-- red, yellow, black streaks-- and carried feathered poles. The biggest and youngest among that lot had a red skull atop his pole. All the rest bore spears, the stone points aimed directly at us.
They halted ten yards away, spread out a little, just beginning to flank us. The guy with the skull looked us over, slowly studying each of us in turn. Then he motioned with his skull pole at the hugely muscled warrior to his right. That one grinned evilly, advanced with sure tread, hefting his spear. He made, I feared, to throw it.
Vorchek’s left arm moved. It came up with a small automatic pistol in his fist. He pointed it. He fired. The menacing fellow hit the floor like an empty sack. This caused a furious, confused babble from the throng. They bobbed and shuffled, without coming nearer. Their language was absolute gibberish.
The skull man shook his thing at us, spoke. Our scholars got caught up for a minute in a low-toned private interchange. “Was that necessary, Vorchek?” “I fear so. I would not risk it.” “It won’t earn us friends.” “I trust that the testing phase is behind us.” The Indian spoke again, insistently.
Theresa whispered, “We can’t negotiate if we can’t talk to them.”
Parker said, “Can you make sense of it, Vorchek?”
“I do not know, Doctor. Stray elements, phonic strands offer promise. Let me try Navajo.” The professor emitted various syllables, to no effect. He stroked his beard, said, “Possibly Hopi will serve.” He took another stab at it, more meaningless sound. The Indians perked up a bit, but still obviously weren’t catching on. Vorchek said, “An older variant of Hopi, deduced by linguists.” He rattled off more noise. This time he achieved results. The Indians buzzed among themselves. One of the feathered pole bunch conferred with the one I guessed was their leader, then turned to us. He spoke haltingly, straining at each syllable. Vorchek cried, “Good Lord, that is a difficult dialect, akin to what I attempted, either more primitive or altered by time. I presume the latter. Let me see if I can communicate in that style.” He said something more, verbally stumbling himself, and that Indian replied with the same.
Following more of this Vorchek declared, “My friends, do not give up hope. We may be able to converse, if in no more than this cumbersome pidgin talk. That gentleman bearing the delightful skull totem they call king. His name is Elech-Tee-Daya, if I alliterate it properly. My chief conversant is Mogo-Dee-Neena, and I believe he approximates what we may style a shaman or medicine man. They are formidable characters hereabouts.
“They accuse us of intruding on their domain, doubt our intentions, consider us their prisoners. There is more that I miss, but that is the gist. I informed them that we come as friends, but will defend ourselves against attack, as I have shown. I urge them to treat us as guests.”
“Urge them to let us out of here,” I demanded.
“After all our efforts to meet them, Mr. Walters? I would dare twice the danger for this moment. Son, you stand before the last of the Anasazi. They live, and we have found them. This is an incredible occasion.”
“What happens now?” asked Theresa.
Vorchek joyously clapped free hand to thigh. “We accompany them, my dear, of our own will, wary at all times, of course, yet eager to learn. We go forward to survey the mysteries of their domain.”
This we did, incredibly, like the events of a bad dream, inexorably drawn deeper into that terrifying chasm. Already we were way farther down than I could stand, but I didn’t have significant say in the matter. Vorchek and Parker were eager, Theresa diffident, I... helpless, afraid, miserable. The Indians-- living Anasazi, no less-- formed two groups at a less menacing remove to our front and rear, headed back into the fastness of the cavern, we plodding along. I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure the followers weren’t creeping up on us. With grim satisfaction I noted I wasn’t the only one.
That big chamber narrowed to a tunnel again, this one bearing many scars of human workmanship, suggesting that it had been artificially expanded. For the first time I beheld the typical adornments of caves, stalactites, stalagmites, and other entertaining features. The ceiling was sooty from the torches that had passed under it through the centuries. Then the tunnel abruptly widened, presenting us with another chamber. More of those horrid skull designs marked the entrance to this room. Initially I had no notion of this one’s size.
The light of those torches held back the truth for a spell. Finally I caught on that my companions were oohing and aahing about something. I strained to see, got it. There was more light here than the torches provided. A dim, greenish glow pervaded this cavity, which I now realized was gigantic, the ceiling rising a hundred feet above us, the sloping floor extending at least a half mile before us, maybe more. As far as I could tell the radiance seeped from the rocks above and all about us, winking with brighter glitters in spots. Shortly the Indians extinguished their torches. Parker figured out this latest oddity. He stopped, detoured, scrutinized an outcropping.
“Luminous lichen,” he muttered, “chemical light from vegetable matter. Unusual, or should I say rare, for there are parallels. Period accounts tell of something similar found in the lowest levels of Carlsbad Caverns. Ill treatment of the environment, unfortunately, led to the demise of those growths. These people, necessarily, have taken greater care. Vorchek, t
his explains most of my earlier doubts.”
“Of course, Parker. I, too, wondered how life could be sustained in total darkness. The wood these folk have scavenged from the surface would never maintain fires for a long period. We have the answer. They employ torches only in the upper chamber and tunnels.”
“Quite so. I need a sample of this material, and the underlying stone.” But the Anasazi apparently took their natural light source most seriously. I guess Parker verged on violating a taboo. The Indians squalled, shook spears, became so instantly irate that the doctor backed off. “Maybe later,” he said, “after we get to know them.”
Theresa said with a snicker, “Rule number one: leave the lichen alone.” The professor nodded his academic approval. On we went.
I was a bit happier with the light, lousy as it was, but soon I began to see too much for comfort. We approached, then entered, the realm of Anasazi habitation. They had built a vast pueblo in that cave, deviating but little from the classic sites known from the surface. This was a sprawling complex, without fortification, seldom more than a single story, but the architecture seemed traditional, and it was big, really big. It stretched across that whole immense chamber. Here and there the mass rose to a second story, at one central point towering like a wedding cake that near scraped the stone roof of the chamber. I began to see people moving about, tiny figures at first, then I saw them more plainly. Mostly they were women and children. Theresa said, “It could be we have the majority of the male Indians with us. Professor, that gives us an estimate of the population.”
“So it does, Miss Delaney, if this brief observation holds true. We shall see. Certainly they have devised a subterranean cultural system that functions at the village level.”
Big deal. As we got among them I was most impressed by their clothing, or lack thereof. The children ran naked, the women and developing girls going about their business (which at the moment consisted mainly of staring at us) as scantily clad as their men. This meant the exposure of much flesh, and they weren’t such bad lookers, either. I couldn’t help letting fly a snappy comment. Stuffy old Vorchek warned, “Careful, boy. Restrain yourself. We face a multitude of troublesome hurdles as it is. Let us not engender additional problems.”
Whatever. We marched along the side of the pueblo, which consisted of countless chunks of limestone cemented with adobe, turned a corner into a dark alley. Structures rose on either side, another beyond, and I dimly made out another to its left. There were separate pueblos, divided by these lanes, each a big apartment house with many doors and large windows, these openings curtained with dark leather hangings. Dr. Parker said, “Clan divisions, at a guess, or practical considerations. I imagine they must break up the community blocks for easier movement to and fro.” He and Vorchek were launching into a tedious debate on this silly point when our guides or guards brought us up short before an angle of the third pueblo.
Here a door yawned, from which a cluster of old women emerged, scampering out of the way. The talkative Indian spoke to Vorchek, directed one of his gang to hand over an unlit torch. The professor didn’t bother with it, flicked on his flashlight instead, pushed aside the leather flap and beamed the interior. He said, “They grant us this apartment; rooms for all, I see, and crude bedding. Here we live, for the duration. I shall thank them for their generous hospitality.” He gabbled gibberish. “Let us enter. We may commune among ourselves.”
These chambers, I noted uneasily, lacked windows. Also, while most of the warriors departed, I observed that a dozen or more assumed station nearby, watching the door. I felt more a prisoner than ever. The nature of the rooms didn’t thrill me either, being overly suggestive of dusty cells, though on second thought I doubted whether the locals lived in much better. Furnishings consisted of leather floor coverings, leather heaps of mattresses, leather-covered stone stools. Four low, vacant doors opened into cramped inner rooms, empty save for the leather floor matting.
“Now what?” I demanded.
“Now we move in,” replied the professor, much too cheerfully for my nerves. “Stake out a room of your own, Mr. Walters. Miss Delaney, you likewise.” I’d grabbed enough bedding to get me by when visitors came knocking. To be precise, they stamped the ground beyond our outer door, mumbled some nonsense. They were old women, awful hags, and they bore food for us on stone platters.
Vorchek couldn’t understand them, but he got the point, warily invited them in. They deposited the trays on a stone bench built into the wall, scooted without further word. The professor eyed those wares with a funny expression, like he was afraid to approach them. I didn’t hesitate.
It was meat, cooked meat, big pieces on the bone, haunches of beef I supposed, maybe mutton, although I wouldn’t know the difference, with small heaps of gooey vegetables. There was a stone jug of liquid for each. The meat smelled great. I remembered how hungry I was. We’d given ourselves quite a work-out this day. I advised digging in.
Vorchek demurred. “Not so fast, Mr. Walters.” He glanced at Parker, who stared at the meal a while, twisting his fingers and grimacing. He shook his head, as if puzzled or unsure. Theresa looked from one man to the other, then her eyes widened.
“Do you think, Professor?”
“I think nothing, girl, in the absence of data.”
I asked, “Are you all afraid it’s poisoned? Is that it?” I sniffed the contents of the jugs, lifted one to slosh its contents. “That’s water, I bet. Do you think they added something?”
Vorchek coldly responded, “I do not fear poisoning, young man. I do recommend, however, that we play it safe. We brought provisions for many days. They are nutritious, if not completely filling. Let us subsist on our own rations, then, until such time as we exhaust them. By then we may know more about that.”
V. The Kingdom of the Anasazi
Thus commenced our sojourn among the survivors of the ancient Anasazi. I never forgot that we were surrounded by hostile natives-- who would think it in this age?-- who disliked us and meant us harm, holding off from striking for secret reasons of their own or, conceivably, through fear of Professor Vorchek’s gun. They hadn’t come across as particularly awe-stricken of that weapon, which reminded me that they had dealt with modern intruders before, most likely, and therefore knew a thing or two about us and our capabilities. That was something else I didn’t forget: that history of unexplained disappearances in their vicinity. I assumed they had taken interlopers in the past, lacked only the reason, and could surmise several.
We slept, standing watch in turn, and after that I lost track of time. Day and night ceased to exist for us; although we were perfectly capable of consulting our time pieces, we just didn’t do it. Even Vorchek gave up at last on his fancy gold pocket watch.
He insisted that we stick to the food supplies packed with us, nor did our hosts press the point. That meant we went for many days, at a conservative guess, on lean portions. We didn’t starve, but my belly growled continually, and the dietary sameness palled on me.
Ours, as had been repeatedly driven home to me, was a scientific expedition. Having met the goal of finding the Anasazi, our task became that of studying them. Vorchek and Parker were mad to observe and photograph and catalogue. Theresa was the ultimate girl Friday, ever helpful, always ready to pitch in, even if she did complain at times and question everything, often in severe tones. In the end her man inevitably rallied her to the cause. Only I took our plight hard, for my main worry concerned my continued survival. I felt rotten all the time.
We were granted a fairly free run of the place, to poke about as we saw fit. I would not wander on my own, such was my terror of that twilight world, nor was Theresa allowed to by her mentor, but Vorchek and Parker dashed away like children when they pleased, to investigate their latest brainstorms. Our anthropological delvings yielded astounding data about these strange underground people, in so many ways throw-backs to a time almost forgotten when Columbus discovered the New World.
In company with our big g
uys-- normally hauling that bulky tripod for them-- once with Theresa, I managed to see most of what the inhabited cavern offered. It might have been most of 11a mile in extent, the long way, gradually sloping downward; much less across, a huge oblong chamber encompassing the living space, barren areas of weird formations, with that dimly seen ceiling of rock decorated with drooping stone shapes. That eerie glowing lichen, festering on upper surfaces of the rocks and threading the higher vaulting, provided walk-about lighting, allowing us to hoard our flashlight batteries for special purposes.
The city, if it can be termed that, consisted of five adjacent complexes, four grouped around the central structure where loomed that comparatively grandiose stone tower. There lived the important men and their families, there were performed ceremonial rites of various kinds. Now and then a small fire would be lit at the top of the tower, the flames reflecting from close ceiling crystals like flickering stars. That was a strange sight, among so many.
In cleared spaces outside the city were performed the daily chores, most of them undertaken by the women. They worked material for clothing, they prepared food. I didn’t see them doing much else. The material was invariably leather, the food usually meat. Supplements of herbs, berries, and other such junk stemmed from surface sources, which the men collected on regular forays. The women never left the home cave. While we were supposed guests, neither did we.
Eyes ceaselessly watched us. They didn’t act like guards, but they usually didn’t let us feel too lonely. They grew obstinate if we strolled too near the tunnel leading toward the outer world; also, they acted the same if we approached the lower end of the big room, where lay another tunnel. That one sparked interest because, at frequent intervals, most of the men disappeared into it. When they returned they bore large chunks of butchered meat, which they conveyed to the working grounds for the females to process. So we learned they kept a source of meat down there, an unseen herd, sight of which they kept from us.
9 Tales Told in the Dark 5 Page 4
