"Shot up to the sky? Your voice is shot up to the sky?"
"Yes. I mean, I don't know exactly how it works. I just know it works. Like television." When he again spoke, his voice was so low and so serious that despite the heat of the day… Mairie shivered.
"I don't want you to talk anymore, do you understand? Can you possibly understand me through all your incoherent rambling? Be quiet. Quiet!" He sat at the water's edge, about ten feet away from her, and stared into the stream. "I need to think."
"Yes," she whispered. "You do that. You think."
"Quiet!"
She clamped her lips closed and pushed the hair back off her face. She would keep quiet, watch him, and pray that he could think… rationally. What dumb luck that her only hope of surviving this ordeal was a druggie hermit who thought he was living a hundred and twenty-two years ago. Nobody was going to believe this. Nobody. She found it hard to believe herself. In the silence that followed, Mairie went over everything that had happened since she left that airplane. Where was the city? Why hadn't she seen Bryan's chute when hers opened? Why had everything normal seemed to have disappeared? Down deep, in a place that she knew she was denying, she was terrified that her brother might not find her, that she might never look into his eyes again.
She had no idea how long she remained battling the frightening thoughts. Time as she had known it seemed to have disappeared. Alone with this man, up here on this mountain, with nothing but nature as a reference, time held no meaning. Maybe that's why Delaney had mentally slipped back into a time that had seemed to him more simple. He sounded educated, if a little proper in his speech. He could be a disillusioned corporate executive who had finally burned out. Just her luck, to have stumbled upon his private nervous breakdown.
"Can you walk?"
Turning her head, she saw him dressed and staring at her. "I think so," she said, and began putting on her sock. "God, it hurts," she mumbled, as she attempted to slide the heavy white cotton over her swollen foot. When she tried putting her Nike back on, she almost yelped in pain and frustration. She couldn't get it on.
Tears she'd been holding back since the airplane came forth and burst from her eyes. It was impossible to stop them, nor did she even try. She merely sat with her shoe in her hands and allowed the tears to come. What was she going to do now? How was she ever going to get out of this mess? And why… why was all this happening to her?
"You can't walk, can you?" His words were more of a statement than a question.
She shook her head and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't know. I… I can't get my Nike back on."
"Your shoe?"
She merely nodded, no sense in trying to explain brand names now. "Maybe I can walk with only my sock."
"Not in these hills. Your foot would be further injured by the sharp rocks." He stood up and walked toward her. Picking up the parachute, he said in a resigned voice, "We'll have to spend the night. There's a cave not far from here."
"A cave? I can't! I have to get back to the city. My brother…" Her mind refused even to contemplate what he was suggesting.
Dropping the bag, he raised his hands to the sky and started waving them. "There is nothing… do you understand…. nothing in the valley that can be called a city! There is only the old Mormon fort in the middle of it that O.D. Gass took over and renamed Las Vegas Ranch. He has about four hundred head of cattle and trades supplies with travelers, but there's no city, woman. Try and get that through your head. You are not living in the future…. in… in 1999! There is no device that will shoot your voice up into the sky so you can call out and find your brother. Look around you. You are here, on a mountain, in the middle of a desert, with a useless foot. What would you have me do, carry you down? It would take days."
She couldn't stop the tears from falling. Either he was totally crazy, or she was. There had to be an answer. There had to be a way back to sanity. It would obviously be up to her to find it. "Are you saying that this… this Gass person doesn't have a telephone on his ranch?" she asked, sniffling like a wounded child. She didn't care how she appeared anymore. This was serious now.
He was staring at her as if he wanted to make her disappear. "I can't believe you asked that," he muttered, sitting down and shoving his foot into a boot. "Look, I'm going to check out the cave and see what I can find to eat. You stay put. Don't even move, because I swear to you, if you're not here when I get back, I'm leaving. I should be halfway to the Paiute camp by now, instead of stuck with some crazy woman who thinks she's living in 1999!" He jammed his other foot into the remaining boot and muttered, "Some gift!"
"I'm not crazy!" she nearly shouted at him. "And I'm not your gift. So you can just put that one out of your mind. And if you think I'm thrilled to be spending the night in a bloody cave with some lunatic on peyote, think again!"
He looked like he wanted to strangle her so she wasn't all that surprised that he didn't answer. He just got up and left.
She sat by the water and cried. Cried for her brother. Cried for her ankle. Cried for the hotel room with a Jacuzzi that was waiting for her… somewhere. It seemed like the perfect time to indulge in self-pity. She'd put up a brave front long enough. The crazy man was gone, and… and what did it matter any longer? She'd known in the airplane. She'd known when her brain had frozen up on her, after she'd jumped. She'd known when she'd landed. And she'd have to be as nuts as Delaney not to know it now. She simply had to acknowledge the gravity of her situation.
She was in danger.
There was no one to turn to. She was on her own and would have to use her wits to get herself out of this mess. Trouble was… she was in a battle of wits with a lunatic.
She needed a plan. That was it. It had worked for her in the past. When she'd thought she'd lose her mind at the breakup of her marriage, she'd formulated a survival plan and had focused on it. That's what she needed now… a survival plan back to sanity.
He returned to the stream a half hour later, telling her that the cave was prepared, and she silently accepted his help in hobbling to it. That was her plan: silence. She figured she would not let him goad her into another argument. She would silently spend the night, endure whatever awaited her, and in the morning she was getting off this mountain if she had to roll off it. Resting her foot all night made sense, considering her predicament, and she was sure that a search plane would be out before dark. If she didn't see one before nightfall, then it would come tomorrow. Thinking of Bryan and the anguish he must be enduring, she mentally called upon the strength of her brother to help her accept whatever happened. Bryan was the bravest person she knew, and his love would see her through this. It simply had to—it was all she had left.
Love. Right then it seemed the most powerful force in the universe.
Delaney told her they were following dung trails left by burros and mountain sheep which led to a unique outcropping of massive red sandstone boulders above. There they would find the cave. She suffered her pain in silence as she slowly made her way over sand, silt, and gravel. The ground was dry, harsh, and baked in earthen tones of umber. Sagebrush, small succulents, aloe, weeds, oleander, and Joshua trees dotted the trail. She couldn't think, wouldn't think, what she was hiking into. She kept her gaze in front of her, not daring to look at the edge of the boulders that dropped off to the valley far below. Not yet… when they reached the cave, she would have the advantage of being so far above the valley that she would be able to see the city and know what direction to follow. But until then she would keep quiet, endure the pain each time her heel touched the ground, lean on her makeshift cane, and accept the help of Delaney while privately formulating her plan of escape.
They rounded the side of the boulder and Mairie was breathing heavily as they stopped in front of strange figures etched into the red stone.
"The ancients," Delaney answered her unspoken question. "They carved these out before recorded history. This is a sacred place."
"Petroglyphs," she whispered in aw
e, forgetting her vow of silence. She could feel the almost mystical energy surrounding her as her finger reached out and lightly touched a stick figure drawing of a man with a halo above his head. "These have been here for thousands of years…"
"Probably." Delaney breathed deeply as he stared at the etchings. "The ancestors of the Paiutes. There's a story here, though it hasn't been revealed to me. What is that name you called them?"
"Petroglyphs," she repeated, studying the other drawings of more strange figures with more halos and fallen animals with Spirits rising from them. There were cryptic images she couldn't decipher. One almost looked like a figure with a parachute. Another appeared to be pointing to a craft of some kind. She wondered who had left them. What story had they been trying to leave behind? What were they saying to their children, great grandchildren, their lineage, and to us? "They're beautiful. So primitive, yet still powerful."
He nodded. "I left my things here when I performed the ritual. They're in the cave. Come… it's not far now."
She started to follow him and then stopped. Suddenly she knew that if she turned around from this vantage point she would be able to see for miles in all directions. It was her moment of truth. Now, she would know…
Lifting her head, she took a deep breath and gazed out over the valley spread below like an unfurled earthen blanket.
Nothing.
It was as if she were on top of the earth and able to see forever. She turned east, north, south, and finally lifted her face to the setting sun and felt her legs shaking, her heart racing, her head throbbing as the truth slammed into her brain. Try as hard as she might, she couldn't deny it.
"Where did it all go?" she whispered.
"What?"
"The city. What happened to it?" She stared into his eyes and tried to keep her voice from trembling. "What happened to me?"
He looked uncomfortable at her reactions and her words. "Come, let's go to the cave now. You need to get off that foot."
"Yes." She wouldn't think about it now. She couldn't think about it. Reason, sanity, had deserted her. Cities didn't just disappear. She didn't free fall that long. She couldn't have been that far off course. The city should be there. There was no logic to this. Where was everything? Maybe it was the energy of this place. She needed to get away and think clearly. "Let's go to this cave." Her voice held the distinct tone of fear. She heard it. She knew Delaney felt it. And now… it no longer mattered.
She felt like she was still free falling. This time into madness.
He led her away from the boulder and she concentrated on every step. If she focused on her movements, she wouldn't have to think of what she'd just seen. Or, what she hadn't seen… a city, a way out, a reinstatement of normalcy.
"This is it?" she asked, seeing the opening in the red sandstone.
"Yes, it isn't big, but we'll be sheltered from the elements and I can build a fire out here to cook."
"Cook, what?" she asked, remembering she hadn't eaten since last night. She'd been afraid to have breakfast before skydiving. She was hungry. Really hungry. She peeked into the cave, saw a cloth bag in the corner and something else, something furry. She shrieked in fright before backing out. "There's a… an animal in there!"
Delaney stuck his head inside for a brief moment and then turned to her. "It's supper."
"You mean…?"
He merely nodded and she hesitantly looked back into the cave. Mairie recoiled in horror when she realized what he meant. "What is it?" she asked, already feeling sorry for the poor thing that looked like its neck had been broken.
"Prairie dog."
She turned and stared at Delaney. "You killed it?"
He stared back at her. "Unless you know of another method of eating… yes, I killed it."
She couldn't keep the shudder from running through her body. She had a hotel room somewhere, with a telephone that she could use to order room service, and here she was, about to spend the night in a cave with a crazy man and eat a dog. How much more bizarre could this become?
In the back of her mind came a tiny voice whispering that she would soon find out.
An hour later she gave up trying to figure out the unusual turns in her life. She had just returned from hobbling around the boulder to relieve herself and was seated on a flat rock overlooking the valley. Delaney squatted in front of the fire, slowly turning the poor skinned little prairie dog over a makeshift spit. The sun had set and darkness was quickly descending, turning the sky from orange to pink to violet purple. At any other time she would have appreciated the show of nature.
"Here," Delaney said, and held out a plant that looked like strange white string beans, about five inches long, bunched into clusters.
"What are they?"
"Mesquite beans. You grind them."
"You want me to grind these?" She almost laughed. "Sure. Show me a Cuisinart and I'll be happy to." She held the hard beans in her hand and wondered what on earth he thought she could do with them.
Bending down, Delaney picked up two rocks and started to show her how to crush the beans. After he had one ground down to meal, he picked out the white shell fragments and handed the rocks to her. "Now you do it. Make sure you get all the shells out, or you might lose a tooth."
She stared at the rocks, at him, back to the ground bean, then back again at him. "You're kidding, right?"
"No, madam, I am not. Since you're sitting here, you can grind the beans while I gather more wood for the fire. It can get cold up here at night."
"Delaney, what in the world are you going to make with these?"
He looked at her as if she were brain dead. "Cakes."
"We're having cake?" Prairie dog and cake… what a meal.
He merely shook his head, as if deciding her question wasn't worthy of a reply and got up. "Just grind them," he muttered before walking away.
Not caring for the man's condescending attitude, Mairie's pride rose once more to the surface and she figured she'd show him. So what if he was good looking? He was still nuts. He actually was treating her as if she were the one who was delusional. She broke three more nails, scraped two fingers, cut her thumb when picking out the razor-sharp shells, and increased her vocabulary by making up words that a sailor would have trouble figuring out. Yet when Delaney had returned, she had a small pile of ground meal on one side of the flat rock and the shells on the other. And she had to admit that she was proud of her accomplishment. Plus… it made her feel better to contribute something to this high desert dinner al fresco.
He merely grunted and scooped up the meal into his hand. Not even a thank-you or an acknowledgment that there wasn't a single speck of shell to be found. Well, obviously, when someone was teaching him proper speech, they forgot to instruct him in manners. What did it matter? After tomorrow, when the plane spotted her and a rescue team got to her, she'd never have to see him again. She'd make sure that she and Bryan did something nice for him, maybe give him a reward for helping her… but after that, it was adios, amigo. One night. That's all she had to get through. Just one night. Alone with a good-looking crazy man. In a cave. In the middle of nowhere.
She knew she would laugh about this one day.
All thoughts of laughter vanished as she watched him add water from a canteen to the meal and form flat cakes in his hands. He placed them on the hot rocks of the fire, wiped his hands on his thighs, and picked up his knife.
She knew he must have used one to skin the prairie dog, but he'd done it while she was behind the boulder. This was the first time she'd seen it, and it looked frightening. It was long and gleamed dangerously in the firelight as he held it before him and examined the blade.
Okay… she had to get through just one night in a cave with a good-looking crazy man who had a knife. As fear once more entered her system, Mairie knew she would never find anything humorous in this situation. This had the potential to be terrifying, and as tired as she was, she knew she wasn't going to sleep.
It was going to be one long n
ight.
He glanced at her across the fire and seemed to read her mind. Beneath that rough cotton shirt was a scar on his chest. She vividly remembered it and wondered if he'd received it in a knife fight. Darkness had now closed in around them and she was glad that she'd put on her jumpsuit, for the temperature had dropped. Still, she knew it was not the cool air that caused her to shiver. There was a look in his eyes, as if he were peering into her soul, and she felt relieved to break eye contact. "How much longer?" she asked, to make conversation. To heck with her plan of silence.
"The cakes will be done soon. Then we can eat." He was still staring at her, holding the knife out to the fire.
"Ah… how did you learn to do all this?" She desperately wanted to get him talking, to stop studying her. To put down the knife. "Do you camp a lot?"
His eyes narrowed, as if not understanding her question. "I told you. I was adopted into the Paiutes when I was young. This is…" he looked to the fire, "… basic survival out here."
"Really? You were adopted when you were young? By Indians? I thought you meant that it was simply some kind of honorary thing. But you were really adopted into an Indian tribe?"
"Yes."
"Wow. I'm impressed." And she was, if he was telling the truth. "How old were you?"
"Twelve."
He certainly wasn't offering anything personal. It was like root canal, digging for information from him. "That is young. You… you lived with them?" It didn't makes sense to her. A white child, almost a teenager, adopted by Indians. She wondered what social agency had placed him in such an unusual setting.
"Yes. I lived with them."
"Are you part Indian? Is one of your parents Indian?" It was the only thing she could think of to explain the situation.
He shook his head. "My parents were white."
"White. Hmm… they died? I'm sorry, that's too personal." Conversation was one thing, but she could see that he was getting uncomfortable with her questions.
Anywhere You Are Page 4
