“When we checked, there were no missing helicopters reported. A flyover was done, but no wreckage was ever sighted.”
“You’re thinking that big cleared circle near the cabin is a heliport?”
“Yeah.” He dropped the glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I imagine they used it to bring in the equipment necessary to dig the tunnel. The shepherds must’ve mistaken a controlled landing for a crash. That would certainly be easy to do in all these canyons.”
“But where does the tunnel lead? Where could it go? And are you sure they didn’t just swoop in and take Tara away in a helicopter?”
He lifted the binoculars again and studied the northern horizon. “We would’ve heard the ’copter land. We weren’t that far away. Any noise travels in these canyons.
“Stay still a second, Bailey,” he added suddenly. “Listen. What am I hearing?”
She lowered the canteen and tried to sort through the sounds around them. Normal calls from distant birds echoed in her ears. She closed her eyes and tried to block them all, along with the whooshing in her ears from her own breathing.
Concentrating hard, Bailey distinctly heard low murmurs. Under the white noise of the day there seemed to be a hum. And under that, farther away and weak, was another sound—both exciting and terrifying.
“I hear a baby crying,” she squeaked. “I swear to God. It’s Tara. It must be.”
“Shush,” Hunter whispered. “Your voice carries.”
“Well, what do you hear?” She let the irritation lace her low whisper. The frustrating man had asked for her opinion.
He stood beside her so he could whisper in her ear. “I hear running water. It must be the San Juan to the north of us. Just over the horizon. I hadn’t realized we were that close to the river. But I also hear a mechanical humming,” he added. “Generators, most probably. Coming from underground. We must be standing right over the cavern they’re using as a hideout.”
“How do we get there? How will we find Tara?”
“Let me think a minute.” He leaned against the outcropping and closed his eyes.
Bailey clamped her mouth shut and stared down at the desert floor. The winds were still strong and a crazy dust devil twirled across the cleared heliport area. From the other direction, a huge tumbleweed rolled right up to the cabin and stayed there, held in place by the wind.
Hunter turned to her again. “Have you ever gone down the San Juan River? Either on the rapids past Glen Canyon or the narrower, quieter stretches around Montezuma Creek?”
She shook her head. The East River and the Pacific at Malibu Beach were as close as she had ever gotten to large bodies of water in the past.
“It’s beautiful and wild,” he told her. “Russet sandstone buttes rise right up from the water’s edge. Occasionally, a cavern or a cave indentation seems to magically appear in the cliffs beside the river. A couple of those caves are rumored to be several miles deep, with side chambers and tributaries that go off toward the desert and upward into the buttes.”
“You think the river’s edge will be the other way into the cavern?”
“Maybe. But if it is, we haven’t got much of a chance of finding it. The entrance will only be accessible by water, and then only by those who know where it is. You can bet it will be guarded every minute.”
Bailey swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to get rid of the sweat on her upper lip. And at the same time trying to stem the scream of frustration that threatened to erupt. Damn it.
Hunter studied her a second. “Don’t give up. I suspect that at least one of the tributaries runs past these cliffs. That has to be why we heard the baby’s cry. The opening we seek may be small, maybe too narrow for us to fit through. But we should still look for it.”
“Yes. I’m sure I wasn’t dreaming a minute ago. I heard Tara. We have to keep looking.”
He nodded. “We will. But there’s a couple of other things we have to do first.”
“Like what?”
Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out another interesting vial, like the one that held the salve for her feet. “I’m becoming more and more concerned about that dog. Where is it? Is it guarding the cliffs? Or the river entrance? I don’t like not knowing.”
Hunter gave her a sideways grin. “This isn’t pleasant, but let me put some of this liquid on the back of your ankles. For protection.”
“What is it?” She had visions of him telling her it was magic dust. Some of his cures and ideas were a little eccentric.
“Skunk musk. It will confuse the—”
“Skunk? No way in hell. Keep that stuff away from me.”
“Bailey…”
“No. My feet have got calluses on top of calluses. My hair is a stringy disaster. My poor acrylic nails are cracked and chipped beyond saving.” She laughed at her own words. “So much for my last two-hundred-dollar manicure and pedicure. And on top of that, I’m covered in sweat and ashes….” She halted her own tirade, remembering how she’d gotten all that ash.
But she wasn’t about to put skunk musk on her body, too. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked,” she stated in a lower tone. “Or…almost everything. And I haven’t complained. Not very much. But this is going too far. I can’t stand it. I simply refuse.”
Hunter let her get it all out. She’d been doing so much better than he had ever imagined she could. It was a miracle that she had held together this far without becoming hysterical. Most women would’ve demanded to be taken back long ago.
But not Bailey. This daughter of a billionaire, who enjoyed privileges beyond his imagination, was grimy and barely clothed, but her spirit was not broken.
“Okay,” he said, and gave in to her. “I’ll use some on myself. It’ll take a few minutes for our eyes to become accustomed to the burn, and I’m afraid the scent is even more difficult to get used to. That will take longer. Stand clear now—as far back as possible.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go on. We both smell so bad already, this can’t be much worse.”
He chuckled and turned his back to her in order to spare her the worst of the sting when the musk caught on the breeze. “Don’t count on it.”
It took about five minutes before their eyes quit tearing and they stopped choking. The smell was harder to stand than he’d remembered.
“Oh, brother,” Bailey cried when she could finally speak. “Are you sure this isn’t worse than the dog?”
“I’m sure.” He shook his head at just the thought of the destruction he had witnessed done by a dog.
“Now, I want to try contacting the Bird People,” he told her. “See if I can get them to go back to the Brotherhood for help.”
“Who are the Bird People? Where are they?”
Pointing to the sky, he grinned. “The Bird People are our allies in this war with the Skinwalkers. One of my cousins can actually communicate with them. I think they have been following us most of the morning, checking on our welfare.”
“Could they help with the dog?”
“No. They’re real birds. They don’t have superhuman powers or anything unnatural like that. But in the past they’ve protected us from above when the Skinwalkers changed form into ravens and vultures. Our flying allies wouldn’t stand a chance on the ground against a full-size mastiff, though. I’m just hoping they will understand to go for help.”
He stepped out to the edge of the granite ledge and threw his voice toward the sky, using the call of a ferruginous hawk. Not exactly sure what he was saying in bird talk, Hunter only hoped it would be understood as a clear cry for assistance.
By the time the sun had passed the midday point and could no longer be seen straight up through the canyon spires, Bailey’s tension had grown in equal measure to the heat of the day.
Nothing. For hours they had climbed and scouted every slot canyon and crevice. Still nothing.
Hunter kept asking if she was hungry, but she wasn’t. Her body was strung tight, every sense on edge.
At
each turn she thought she heard a baby crying. With every small rock slide below their feet, she imagined a massive mongrel was nipping at their heels.
Something had to give soon or she was going to scream.
“It will be twilight before you know it,” Hunter said as he stopped to drink from the canteen. “Dusk comes early in these deep canyons. The wind has already died down. Even now it’s barely stirring.”
His body seemed as tense as hers. “If there is an alternative cave entrance, it’s up one of these sheer cliff walls and we’re missing it,” he mused.
“You’re not suggesting that we stop looking! Not when Tara has been alone with those awful people for two days! We can’t just give up.”
He shook his head. “No. We won’t give up. But we’re going to have to be a lot more careful during the nighttime hours. Sounds carry easier then. Any noise will give us away.”
Hunter pulled his carbine from its place on his pack, making sure he had it close by. “Keep your ears open for any sound. Anything at all. And find a way to alert me without speaking. Got it?”
This time Bailey nodded silently. As tense as their situation was, he couldn’t help grinning at her. He was still surprised and pleased at how very strong and brave his beauty had become.
She grimaced in response to his grin, and then flicked her hand ahead of them with an impatient motion. She obviously didn’t want the loss of daylight to slow them down. He knew Bailey had to be feeling shaky. She must be about to collapse from the excesses her body had suffered. Yet she took a deep breath and set her jaw.
As worried as he was about their situation and about how much longer she could keep it up, Hunter discovered his heart fluttering. Not from fear, but from some barely concealed emotion where she was concerned. Though he couldn’t acknowledge any of it in the midst of danger.
This was no time to consider what was happening between them. Maybe whatever he felt was based merely on adrenaline and his body’s fight for survival.
He turned his back to her and began picking his way along an old sheep path through the canyon. Stopping every few yards to listen, he made sure both of their breathing remained steady and low.
From off in the distance he heard a coyote’s bark. It didn’t worry him much. A little while later he heard some night birds calling. As dusk settled in around them, he could almost swear he heard the cliffs themselves groaning as they cooled off from the extreme heat of the sun.
He and Bailey were moving along a granite ledge, midway between the canyon floor and the flat mesa above their heads. He strained to listen for any sounds out of place. The hum of a motor. People talking. Anything that would give him a hint of where to look.
Through the purplish haze of twilight settling over the canyons, he finally saw a potential spot for a cave opening. A granite obelisk had, sometime in the past eons of earth movements, been driven straight up from the canyon floor and now lay directly in their path. The rocky sheep path they’d been following split in two around it. The right branch led to the edge of a deep dropoff. Left, the path disappeared into a crevice in the cliff wall that had grown up in brush. Brush that now looked dry from lack of runoff.
He stopped at the split and motioned to Bailey that they should each try a different path. She would take the wider way, around the outside, and he would check out the deep crack in the rock.
She gripped his arm and groaned. Turning back to her, he saw her shaking her head violently.
“No way,” she croaked. “Together, or not at all.”
Instead of answering, Hunter stood still. He concentrated on listening for any sound that would mean their whereabouts had been given away. And then, as he was about to take another breath, he heard it.
Faint and far-off, the sound of something running. A second later, he could hear panting, too. The dog!
Hunter’s blood spiked with life-saving hormones. He pulled Bailey’s body around in front of him and shoved her into the dark crevice. Thirty seconds later they came to a blank wall. The end of their road, and most probably the end of their lives.
Without a second’s consideration, he pointed past the dry wash of rocks and boulders that had spilled down the shaft with the spring rains. He shoved her toward the brush that had grown up the sheer side of the cliff.
“Up.” Knowing it was useless now to be quiet, he roared.
She looked upward, then back at him with pure panic written on her face.
“Go. It’s our only chance.” He followed her over the slippery boulders and helped her get a sturdy hold on the dried vines clinging to the steep shaft wall. All the while he kept urging her to go faster.
Bailey must have taken a cue from the tension in his voice. Grabbing at the vines and brambles, she scrambled upward as fast as she could and never looked back.
He was right behind her when he heard the dog snarling directly at his heels. Trying to gather his wits enough to climb, while at the same time saying a sacred chant that would protect them from Skinwalkers, Hunter didn’t make it.
Fearing this animal was not a Skinwalker, but a real mongrel who would not stop until he brought them down, Hunter let panic snake into his mind.
Snarling, the dog lunged and caught the back of his calf. Jagged teeth tore at the heavy material of his pants and dug into his flesh. Hunter got a firmer handhold on a root sticking out above his head, closed his eyes and concentrated on the chant.
The yei were with him this time. As he repeated the ancient words over and over, the pain in his leg began to lessen. With a yip and a snarl, the animal slipped and tumbled backward, over brush and shale.
Hunter didn’t miss his opportunity, and quickly moved up inside of the crevice, out of the dog’s range. But he was forced to hang tenuously on to roots and rocks as he went. He had no idea how far Bailey had climbed above him, and was nearly nauseated with worry that the terror was not over for them yet. Was this a dog or a Skinwalker? The evidence was still unclear.
As he climbed, the brush thinned out and the crevice walls grew steeper. He became concerned about the roots continuing to hold his weight. Where had Bailey gone?
“Hunter?” A tiny, scared voice reached out to him in the darkness.
Between two giant boulders, a short shelf filled with cactus and weeds slanted back toward the sheer wall. There, Bailey had found a sturdy shelter and waited for him. He shoved aside a creosote bush and swung onto the ledge beside her.
Taking her in his arms, he covered her face with kisses. “You’re safe,” he groaned, drawing great gulps of air in relief.
She gently pulled out of his arms. “How are we going to get out of here? We can’t go back down, and I don’t think we can go any higher.”
“We’re okay for the moment. Take a breath.” The shelf was too high and steep for a real dog to reach, but it could still become a death trap for them.
As he should’ve guessed, it was not a real dog that had chased them up the crevice. And the Skinwalker Dog didn’t give them a moment to catch their breaths. Now that Hunter had stopped chanting, the creature roared up the vines toward them, using supernatural powers. The nasty yellow-and-red, crazed eyes gleamed eerily in the darkness as the Dog grew closer.
Hunter shoved Bailey behind him, crouched and drew his rifle. He got off a shot, but missed his moving target. Still, the bullet ricocheted against the steep crevice walls and nicked the Dog’s muscular shoulder. Hunter repeated a short, sacred chant.
With a shriek of pain, the Skinwalker Dog fell backward and disappeared into the darkness at the bottom of the shaft. An inhuman stillness filled the night as the echoes of shot and scream faded slowly away in the black void.
“Oh, thank God,” Bailey said behind him. “We’re safe.”
Not so fast, he wanted to caution. But instead, he stood up and took her in his arms. Let her have a moment’s peace.
With her nose buried in Hunter’s shoulder, Bailey was able to forget about where they were and who was after them. That is, until t
he sound of voices and shouts penetrated the cocoon of safety he had wrapped around her with his arms.
“Who’s that?” she asked. “What are they saying?”
Hunter pursed his lips as a reminder for her to stay silent. They listened to the sounds coming from below, which now seemed like an argument. But the words came up the shaft garbled and indistinct.
Finally, the voices went quiet. He and Bailey stood perfectly still…and waited.
Seconds later, Hunter whispered in her ear. “They may have decided to wait us out. Eventually, we’ll need water.”
The thought of being trapped up here sent her into a depression unlike any she remembered. This was much more serious than any of her childish blue moods. More serious and much more deadly.
“Bailey, did any of those voices sound familiar?”
“You think it may have been the goons that took Tara and me?”
“Maybe. Probably. But there was another voice I thought I recognized but can’t place.” Hunter shook his head and tightened his grip around her waist.
He moved to the lip of the shelf and looked down into the black abyss. She couldn’t see anything except for a tiny shaft of light coming down the cleft from the stars above.
Hunter pulled her backward, into the shadows away from the edge. “How far back does this shelf go, anyway?”
She shrugged. “I’m supposed to know that?”
As dire as their situation was, Hunter actually chuckled at her words.
“Hold on. I’ll check,” he told her, and then disappeared in the darkness.
In a second he was back and reaching for her. “There’s a slab of granite that was pulled away from the face of the cliff ages ago. It seems to have a deeper shelf around the other side. That could be safer, and it might even provide us with a way to climb out of this crevice. But we’d have to jump a two-or three-foot-wide crack in the shelf to get there.”
“I don’t think I can.” Every nerve was strung tight and she was already shaking like a leaf. What more could she stand?
“Take it easy,” he said. Reaching out, he used his thumb to stroke her chin. “I’ll help you. You’ve already done things I didn’t think you could do. I’ve been really impressed. Don’t quit on me now. I need you to be strong just a little longer.”
Books by Linda Conrad Page 64
