The Thirteenth Skull

by Bonnie Ramthun

  “Let’s move around the Tower,” Paul said. “Quick as you can, now. Be careful.”

  They moved in twos after Paul. Eileen and Joe followed Paul, Eileen with her hand hovering near her midsection where her gun was holstered and obviously ready for Rene, no matter what Joe said. Lucy saw Jorie and Nolan fall in behind her and Ted, neither of them speaking. Nolan, a far different young man than the pudgy boy Lucy had met just a few days ago, took a drink of water and shifted his bow on his shoulder. He had it bad for Jorie, that was obvious, but Lucy was beginning to think he had something more than a crush. Lucy wondered briefly if Jorie knew what she had in this young man, or if she cared.

  Then they made the turn around the Tower and Lucy saw a dusty green truck at the end of a parking lot. An old blue car sat next to it. There was nothing else in the parking lot except for the ranger himself, a thin elderly man with a head full of white hair. He stood waving at them. He had an enormous moustache that sat atop a grin.

  “Haaaalllo,” he shouted. “Here, Paul!”

  Paul waved and took a quick look back at Zilla, who was unconcerned. She was, in fact, staring at the Tower. Lucy followed her gaze and gasped as she saw four brightly clad people moving quickly on ropes down the side of the stone. Rappelling, that’s what it was called.

  “Look,” she said.

  “I hope we all fit in the truck,” Joe said. “How far are they from the bottom?”

  “Minutes,” Jorie said. “I’ve climbed before. They’re almost down. They must be setting up their last rappel. I’ve heard it takes three rappels to get down the Tower. It’s over a thousand feet tall.”

  When Paul stopped next to the park ranger Lucy wanted to let her legs collapse under her. She stood, quivering, feeling that if she fell down she’d never be able to get back on her feet again. The park ranger was standing next to a Forest Service sign that held a map and information about Devils Tower. Beyond him Lucy could see a water fountain and a log building that probably contained a Visitors Center and a set of bathrooms. There was a large, almost empty parking lot, and beyond that a curving road that must lead to the highway, and safety. The ancient blue car was a Subaru. It was crammed full of tents and bags and clothing. The car must belong to the climbers, who were carefully setting up for their last rappel, a few hundred feet above. Lucy wondered what they felt, knowing that a forest fire was raging from the north towards them. They must want to hurry, yet know that hurrying could kill them far more quickly than the fire could.

  “Your family is safe, they’re down at the Devils Tower Junction,” the ranger said, and Lucy gave a lurch to the side as her legs tried to fold under her. “The rangers called from the Junction and said they arrived just a few minutes ago. They said they went cross-country, that’s why it took them so long.”

  “Howie,” Eileen said immediately, and with satisfaction. “He knew.”

  “I bet it was Doug,” Joe said.

  “They’re safe,” Paul said. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead with trembling fingers. “Thank God. Now, how about us?”

  “We’re just about ready to go,” the ranger said confidently. “As soon as the climbers are down.”

  “What’s that sound?” Lucy said.

  There was instant silence and in the silence there was, indeed, a sound. For a moment it was like a great crowd of people talking excitedly. Lucy was reminded of the audience in a theater right before the lights go dim. Then the chattering crowd sound dissolved into a louder tone, something that sounded more like an airplane engine spinning up to takeoff, or a railroad engine charging at a hill.

  Paul spun around to the way they’d come, and he did an interesting thing. He cupped both hands over his ears, as though he were trying to make his hands into ears as big as Zilla’s. Zilla, on his shoulder, had her ears up and aimed along their back trail.

  “It’s coming from the northwest,” he said. “Everyone, up to the rock fall. Run!”

  Lucy, who thought she had no more strength in her, found she had plenty left, after all. She ran, shoulders jostling with Ted, following Nolan and Jorie as they raced to the very bottom of the Tower, along the trail. They broke out of the trees and into an enormous tumble of boulders. The boulders must have fallen from the sides of the Tower itself. They were the size of automobiles and buses and houses. The trail ran through the boulder field. Lucy skidded to one knee and got up running, ignoring the wet stinging from her leg. Her breath sobbed in her throat and she could think of nothing but fleeing from the gigantic sound that was getting louder and louder as they ran.

  The roaring thing burst from the northwest and it was the fire. Lucy stopped to look, unable to help herself. A plume of dark gray smoke streamed from two or three miles behind the Tower and then in the valley to the northwest two trees exploded into flame as if they’d been wired with explosives. The plume of dark smoke flickered as though it were alive with tiny yellow eyes. The yellow eyes were burning branches and pinecones and they flew into the air over the peaceful valley. As they settled, the forest bloomed with flame, the dry forest that hadn’t seen rain for the whole month of July.

  Lucy was transfixed. The sight was the most awful she’d ever seen, and the most awesome. The dark wind brought the flame, invisible until it touched the trees. The trees waved wildly as they gave up their lives, as though screaming silently. Some of the falling sparks, Lucy realized sickly, were birds. Hawks plummeted into the trees, wings on fire. Small birds fell like pebbles and fire burst up from where their burning bodies landed. Within seconds the whole lower half of the valley was on fire.

  “The wind’s from the east,” Paul said from behind her. Lucy turned to see him standing at her shoulder. They were all stopped. She saw that they were standing in a clearing in the boulder field. She blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating. There were four Lakota with them, three men and one woman. They wore feathers in their shiny dark hair and the woman wore a pale dress of deer hide, decorated with beads. The men wore no shirts but had breastplates of some sort of narrow bones stitched together, embroidered with beads and stones, and pants of soft pale hide. One of the men was so old his hair was white, and it hung in two snow-white braids down his wrinkled chest. He was holding a small staff that had bones and feathers hanging from one end.

  “The fire cut off the road,” the ranger said. “We don’t dare risk trying to take the truck because the wind might shift.” He took out a small walkie-talkie and clicked it on.

  “Larry, this is Don,” he said. “We’ve got a problem, here.”

  “No shit!” the walkie-talkie burst. “We can see it from here. Are you cut off?”

  “We’re cut off,” Don said. “You have a helicopter coming in?”

  “Got one with water on board,” Larry said. “Is the eastern part of the Tower still clear?”

  “We’ll meet the chopper there. Tell him to hurry, Larry.”

  “Ten-four,” Larry said. “God bless.”

  “Oh, God, look,” Joe moaned. Lucy followed his hand and saw a burning deer racing across an open meadow down by the Belle Fourche River. His back and sides were on fire but he still ran, head up, as though he could escape. Lucy could see his velvet antlers, crowned by a wreath of unholy fire, and she turned her eyes away.

  “I’ll wait for the climbers,” Don said calmly. “You folks need to head on over there. Sir,” he added, bowing to the Lakota, “I need you to go with Paul Reed, here. Please.”

  “We will,” the younger man said. There was something about him that reminded Lucy of Dave Rosen, Eileen’s partner. He had waist length braids and feathers in his hair and a breastplate of bone over his muscled chest, but there was something of Rosen’s straight, short-haired, button-down look to his face. The older man said something and moved his staff, which made a rattling, almost musical tone.

  “What did he say?” Paul asked.

  “He said, we did our best,” the young man said.

  Devils Tower Junction, Wyoming


  The crowd at the Junction shop burst into a long, sustained ahh sound, for all like it was the Fourth of July and the fire at the Tower was a light show. Howie put his arm around Tracy, who was holding a teary Hank, and he felt her frail shoulders trembling.

  “Look at that!” a woman said, her video camera in front of her face. “It looks like a hundred feet of fire up there.”

  “That’s a crown fire,” someone else said thoughtfully. “I’m beginning to get seriously concerned here. How did it become a crown fire so quickly?”

  “What’s a crown fire?” Howie asked the man.

  “When the fire gets up off the ground and into the trees,” the man said. “That doesn’t happen often. Firefighters say when a fire jumps to the crown of the trees you clear the hell out. Which is what I’m going to do.” He turned away from Howie and hurried into the crowd, jostling people out of his way.

  “People, I need your attention.” The booming voice came from the back of the park ranger truck that blocked the road up to the Tower. Unbelievably, the rangers had been busy turning back tourists.

  When Doug and Tracy had led the others to the back of the tourist shop Howie had been astonished at the size of the crowd. There must have been thirty cars stopped on the road, and the shop was doing a booming business in soft drinks and ice cream. Tracy, who knew the shop owners, had entered the business through the back entrance. Howie helped Doug scan the crowd while Tracy bought soda pop. She also bought a carton of milk and a package of cookies for Hank. He’d refused them, his face stricken and tearful.

  Doug, who was the only one who’d seen the killers, pronounced the crowd free of Rene and his friend. Despite this, Tracy and Howie had been the only ones to leave the back of the shop and approach the park rangers. Larry, the park ranger who was now standing in the back of his pale green truck, was the one who’d radioed Don up at the Tower and told their families that they were safe.

  “People, it’s time to evacuate this area,” Larry shouted. “You need to evacuate south, towards Sundance. I’d appreciate it you would drive slowly, and pull over if you encounter fire trucks or any sort of rescue or police vehicles. Let’s be smart, people. This fire could reach here in twenty minutes, and I want you all gone. Let’s go.”

  “They’ll be all right,” Howie said, but his heart told him that the people they’d left behind wouldn’t be all right. The fire was enormous, stretching across the northern part of the valley. The smoke was already thickening, turning the sun into a pale burnished coin. The smoke did more than Larry to convince the tourists that it was time to get out of the area.

  “Miz Reed, we have a fire service helicopter on the way in,” Larry said to them, holding the megaphone away from this mouth. “We’ll pick up your family and take them to Sundance. You need to be on your way, now.”

  “What about the horses?” Tracy asked numbly. Howie could see she was nearly at the end of her ability to cope. She couldn’t seem to tear away her eyes from the flames at the north end of the valley, flames that were steadily burning their way towards her husband and her daughter.

  “I’ve got that taken care of,” Doug said, appearing at their side. He’d had to push his way through the crowd, now moving rapidly in the other direction, away from the fire. “Come on.”

  Howie walked with Tracy to the back of the tourist shop. There was a huge trailer backing up along the side of the shop. An enormous red truck was attached to the trailer and as it stopped Doug ran around the front of the truck and snatched open the door. A girl with a long and lovely fall of brown hair catapulted out of the truck and into his arms. Howie caught a glimpse of a pretty face swollen and red-eyed with weeping, now full of relief and joy.

  “His wife,” Howie guessed.

  “They live in Sundance. He called her as soon as we got here,” Jimmy said. “And she brought a horse trailer. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They were at the very end of the line of evacuated vehicles. They fell into line behind an enormous recreational vehicle with Virginia license plates. Doug drove the truck and his wife sat close to him, still wiping away happy tears. Howie thought of his own wife with a sudden, unexpected longing. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, in bed, naked and in the dark, to make love to her and then talk. He’d talk for hours, he thought, until his voice was hoarse and he’d talked all the poison out of him, all the fright and anger. They’d talk until dawn, then sleep until the kids came in and bounced them out of bed. He looked over at Tracy, sitting pale and silent with Hank in her lap, and he looked away. He knew a good marriage when he saw it. He hoped Paul and Tracy Reed’s marriage was not at an end.

  As they drove down the highway he searched the sky for the helicopter. From horizon to horizon he looked, but all he could see was smoke and the tiny, indifferent coin of the sun.

  Devils Tower, Wyoming

  “Sorry, man,” the first of the climbers said. “We got down as quick as we could.” Joe saw that he was a stocky young man, a boy really, with a sunburnt, dirty face. His teeth were very white and his eyes were a startlingly light gray.

  “We’re in a bit of fix, here,” Don said. He was scanning the sky with binoculars, a red smoke flare held ready in his hands. The smoke was thick enough now to be a problem. The wind, which had brought the fire like a roaring jet down on them, had now given them a reprieve. The fire was being swept down the Belle Fourche River valley instead of burning around the Tower, where they all huddled. But it would get to them eventually, yes it would.

  “They’ve got a helicopter coming in,” Joe said to the young man. He watched as the other climbers walked down, ropes hung over their shoulders. The Lakota stood impassively, looking into the distance.

  “We can’t drive out?” the second climber asked. He was short and had a high, girlish voice. All the climbers wore helmets and windbreakers. They were all filthy with dirt and sweat and wore expressions of fading happiness, as though the fire hadn’t quite made an impression yet. They were all barely out of their teens.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Don said shortly. “And I don’t think our chances are good if we make a break for it. The best way to survive if we’re trapped here is in the boulder field. There’s nothing to burn in the boulder field, so the fire should burn right past us.”

  “That might work,” the third climber said in a worried voice. He wore tiny sunglasses and now took them off and polished them with a distracted air. “But if the fire burns too slowly it’ll take all the oxygen and we’ll suffocate. Better than being burned, I guess, but still –”

  “We might not have a choice,” Paul said. “If the helicopter doesn’t get here soon—”

  “I see it,” Don said. He struck the flare against the rock and for a moment Joe thought he’d struck it too hard, and broken the tip. Then the flare sputtered into life and Don ran out into the open, grassy meadow to the east of the boulder field. He set the flare on a circular patch of dirt that he and Joe and Nolan had cleared just minutes ago, then moved back.

  Joe searched the sky and saw a tiny speck that rapidly grew to an X, then a staggered cross, then the unmistakable shape of an old Huey helicopter. It carried an empty water bladder underneath it from a long line and it was going so fast the bladder, designed to scoop up water from a lake and hold it, was stretched out and fluttering behind the copter.

  “Hey, baby, it’s good to see you,” Joe said under his breath, then coughed shallowly. The smoke was growing worse, turning the day into a hazy, gray dusk. Worse, Joe thought it was getting warmer. A lot warmer. The fire was working its way over to their side of the Tower.

  “Paul,” Don said.

  “Don,” Paul Reed said. They looked at each other, faces grim, as the helicopter grew closer.

  “What is it?” Nolan asked.

  “Not enough room for us all,” Don said. “That’s a Huey. It can carry five passengers at this altitude. Lifeboat rules. Women first. Men, we’ll wait until the helicopter returns and if it ca
n’t come in, we’ll ride it out in the boulder field. I was hoping for a larger helicopter,” he added gravely. “I’m sorry.”

  There was a moment of silence, as heavy as a funeral service.

  “The pilot won’t have time for another run,” Eileen said in a high, thin voice. “You can’t survive without oxygen in the boulder field. There’s got to be another –“

  “Eileen,” Joe said, and when she turned to him her eyes were desperate, panicked, nearly mad with fear.

  “No!” she said furiously.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said, and held her.

  It wasn’t long enough, nearly long enough, he thought, as her body pressed against his. There was so much he hadn’t done. This was the time in his life for a wife, for a home that was more than a bed and bathroom and an office filled with computers. He wanted so much. Marriage, seeing Eileen pregnant, looking at an ultrasound, getting yelled at while she labored, cutting the umbilical cord of his child. All the moments that could be his life rushed past him. A life that he wouldn’t have, now.

  “It was supposed to be me,” she said against his chest. She looked up and her cheeks were flooded with rare tears. “I’m the cop, I’m supposed to die first, I always thought it would be—”

  “Hush,” he said, and touched her face. “I love you. Be strong.”

  The wind battered them as the helicopter landed in the field. Joe kissed her, hard, trying to make time stop for just one second more, trying to hold on. Paul pulled at Eileen’s arm and he let go. He unwound Eileen’s arms and gave Eileen a push. She turned and ran to the helicopter without a backward glance, taking Lucy’s hand and pulling her along. Lucy, whose face was chalk white, kept looking backward. She looked as though she, not Ted, were going to die. The Lakota girl stumbled to the helicopter, weeping, and Joe turned to see who was left. Jorie, her nearly empty pack on her shoulders, started towards the helicopter. Then she turned back to Nolan and grabbed his ears in her hands. She pulled his face down to hers and gave him a kiss, something that started, obviously, as an impulse and ended with Jorie sagging against him, arms around him, her eyes closed. Joe had to smile as Jorie turned and lurched towards the helicopter, as though she didn’t know exactly how to place her feet. Nolan looked dazed and completely, utterly happy. Pretty good for a first kiss, Joe thought. Pretty good last kiss, too.