A Treasure Deep

by Alton Gansky

  Perry heard a cough and a deep moan. He took in the situation. Brent was right, the sides of the sinkhole were expanding, and as it did, it dumped more dirt in the direction of the downed man.

  “Give me that,” Perry snapped, grabbing the camera from Brent. He studied it for a moment. “Light. How do you turn the light on?”

  Brent reached over and pushed a button. The small halogen light blazed to life.

  “What are you doing?” Montulli asked suspiciously. “I want you to wait for the fire department. They have the equipment to . . .”

  Perry didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. Instead, he stepped forward with a hop and disappeared down the hole.

  THE HOUSE PROVED too confining for Anne. Something had happened to her the hour before. Something inside her that needed breaking had finally broken. The shattered pieces dissolved at her feet like cotton candy in the rain. She was worn out; the grief, the anger, the release, the submission to truth had been more grueling than any physical work she had ever done. While her energy level was close to empty, she felt full for the first time in half a decade.

  The epiphany had been cleansing, cathartic. It had begun with a firm word from a man she barely knew, but the pointed admonition had punctured a hole in the darkness she had draped her mind and heart with. In that moment, a small amount of light had made its way in, and once in, it wouldn’t be denied.

  Perry Sachs hadn’t brought about the change. Someone far more insightful and powerful had invaded her and dispelled the artificial wall of protection that kept nothing out, but that kept her in like a prisoner. God deserved her apology, and despite initial and hard-fought refusal, He had gotten it. She had uttered the words “I’m sorry” a hundred times, and with each utterance a layer of self-pity filth was washed away.

  Her grief had been real and appropriate, but she’d nursed it into something that sorrow was never meant to be. In a moment, the years of conflict with God melted; in a second, the self-loathing and hatred evaporated under the loving light of God. She had left Him years before, but she now knew He had never left her.

  In a dark living room, on a dark night, a woman scarred by pain and regret and poisoned by hatred and anger was healed from the inside. It didn’t come with a refrain from the “Hallelujah Chorus”; it arrived without sermon or Bible study. It came without a preacher. One woman, one God, one healing.

  How long the moment lasted, Anne couldn’t tell. Perhaps it had been an hour, maybe two, but it happened. Her prayer was simple, uncluttered, and devoid of pretension. The prayer flew heavenward on wings of honesty. The answer came like a fresh, cleansing brook, bubbling through the deepest areas of her soul.

  She drank in the forgiveness, gulped the understanding, and absorbed the unmeasured, indescribable love. Sleep was impossible. Weary as she was, spent as she was, she had to move outside to find a space big enough to contain the release that radiated from her.

  Anne left her home and drove. At first she traveled with

  no destination in mind, but then found herself heading from town, toward the place she had last spoken to Perry. The hour was late, but he might still be there. He was a man consumed with a cause, and she suspected that sleep was a secondary thought to him now.

  Behind her, red lights flashed, and the wail of a siren wafted through the closed windows of the car. Dutifully, she pulled over, and the Tejon fire department drove by in a pumper, ambulance, and chief’s car. Anne followed, and her apprehension rose with each minute.

  They were headed out of the city.

  The fire department, like the police, was handled by county departments. When she saw them turn onto the dirt road that led to Perry’s site, her heart began to race. A new fear inundated her mind.

  Chapter 17

  PERRY SLID DOWN a slope of loose soil, descending into a cloud of dust and diesel smoke. He tried to slow his descent by digging the heels of his work boots into the dirt. It helped some, but not much. What he had done was foolish. It was also necessary. One of his men was in danger, perhaps injured, and Perry wanted to waste no time in getting to him.

  Perry stopped suddenly when his feet hit something hard. Light from above filtered through the dust, creating an eerie, fog-like scene. Pausing for a moment to be certain he was no longer moving, Perry rose slowly, the video camera in hand. He used the camera’s light like a flashlight. Most of the light reflected back, diffused by floating particles of dust and smoke. A dark shape loomed before him. Waving his hand in front of his face, Perry tried to clear the air. It was a futile gesture. The dirt would settle in its own time, and Perry could do nothing about that.

  He coughed then gagged. Perry pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth and used it as a breathing filter.

  The shape in front of him was tinted yellow through the haze. He reached forward and laid a bare hand on the metal. It was the underside of the rig. The backhoe was on its side.

  “Perry! Perry!”

  Jack’s voice pierced the dark distance. Perry had no idea how deep he was, but he knew that some sinkholes were large enough to bury a ten-story building. “Yeah,” Perry shouted back. “I’m okay.”

  “I’m coming down,” Jack said.

  “No, not yet. I may need you up there.”

  There was no response, but Perry could imagine Jack gritting his teeth. He was not one to sit on the sidelines. Perry took a step forward and noticed that his feet were buried in the loose soil. Walking was difficult, as if he were slogging through shin-high snow. The smell of diesel fuel and oil permeated the already choking atmosphere. Perry felt like he was on another planet.

  The backhoe was small compared to some, and Perry was glad since he was now faced with scaling what had been the underside of the powerful piece of equipment. Small or not, it was heavy, and his biggest fear was that the machine had fallen on his worker.

  “Talk to me, Perry,” Jack said. It was more an urgent order than a request. “Can you see Lenny?”

  Lenny. At least now he knew the worker’s name. “Not yet, the backhoe is on its right side. I’m at the undercarriage.” Perry set the camera on the rear tire, its light directed toward the overturned cab. The dust was starting to settle, and Perry could see the outrigger used to stabilize the tractor reaching skyward like a man’s outstretched hand grasping for help. He placed both hands on the edge of the foot rail and pulled himself up, kicking his feet to gain the extra inch or two needed to throw his leg over the side. If the backhoe were in its normal upright position, the handhold that Perry used would be the rig’s footstep.

  It was a struggle but Perry soon positioned himself so that he could see into the open cab. It had no windows, just a metal roof supported by corner posts. The supports were bent at an odd angle. Perry saw Lenny lying on his back, unmoving.

  “Lenny,” Perry said. “You with me, buddy?”

  There was no answer, and Perry feared the worst. “I found him,” Perry shouted to his friends. “He’s not moving. I’m going to try to get to him.”

  Using the cab supports, Perry lowered himself to the injured man, straddling his prone body. He felt for a pulse and found one. He strained his eyes to peer through the darkness. Standing again he reached up and took hold of the video camera, aiming its light at the injured man. Blood trickled from his forehead and left ear. Not good, Perry decided.

  In the distance, the squeal of sirens grew louder. “We’re going to need a backboard to get him out safely!”

  “There’s no need to yell,” Jack said. The voice came from a foot behind him, and Perry jumped. “I’m right here.”

  “I thought I told you to stay topside,” Perry said.

  “Did you? Must’ve missed it.”

  “You’re impetuous, you know that?”

  “Look who’s talking,” Jack retorted. He was standing awkwardly on the side of the cab. “How is he?”

  “Head injury of some sort. There’s blood from his ears. We need an air ambulance. The best hospital is going to be in B
akersfield.”

  “Agreed.”

  “How big is the hole?” Perry asked.

  “I’m guessing we’re down forty or fifty feet from grade,” Jack said. “I didn’t take time to measure the opening, but I’m betting that this thing is as wide as it is deep.”

  “That’s big. Why didn’t we see it coming?”

  “No idea, Perry. You’d think the surveys would have given some clue.”

  “We’ll deal with that later. We’re going to have to cut away the cab,” Perry said, patting the steel uprights. “We can’t fit a backboard in here, put Lenny on it, and pull him up without moving him in ways that would make his condition worse.”

  “The firemen should have an extrication saw or something. If not, we have a plasma torch on-site. That should do the trick.”

  A voice from above: “The fire department is on scene.” It was Gleason. “I sent Brent down to the road to guide them up.”

  “Good,” Perry shouted. “Good. Lower some lights to Jack.” He returned his attention to the unconscious man at his feet and felt helpless. He removed his shirt and laid it over Lenny to help keep him warm. There was nothing to do now but pray. And Perry did.

  PERRY WAS THE last one out of the sinkhole, insisting that Lenny and the paramedics go first. The injured worker had not regained consciousness, and Perry could read the concern on the faces of the emergency personnel. They’d bravely lowered themselves into the hole, which still rumbled occasionally. If the situation and noises frightened them, they didn’t show it. That made them heroes in Perry’s eyes.

  He watched as they placed a padded cervical collar around Lenny’s neck and checked his vitals. Deciding that the hole was still dangerous, they opted to move him as quickly as possible. Perry helped them gently slide a rigid backboard beneath Lenny’s back and strap his body and head to it, immobilizing him to avoid additional injury. An aluminum litter was lowered, and the patient, still strapped to the backboard, was placed in it. The firemen above pulled the stretcher up, guided by the paramedics.

  Moments later, the medics and Jack were assisted out, then Perry started up the side, holding tight to a rope that was anchored around Jack’s massive body. He found a sense of security in that. Once out of the hole, Perry ordered everyone back from the sinkhole’s rim.

  Perry struggled to breathe. The dust and smoke had filled his lungs and now his chest hurt with each inhalation. His clothing—and his face—were covered in dirt several layers thick. He coughed again, clearing his throat. Jack joined him.

  “Here,” he said, “take some of this.” He held out a clear plastic medical mask with a plastic tube running from it. It was an oxygen mask. Perry took it gladly. “The paramedics said we could return it tomorrow.”

  “Lenny in the ambulance?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “They’re taking him to the same place our helicopter landed yesterday. An air ambulance is on the way.” Even as Jack spoke, the solid thumping of rotors filled the hills.

  After a few deep inhalations of oxygen, Perry turned to the wide hole in the middle of the pasture. “How did this happen, Jack? Why didn’t the GPR and other surveys show the kind of geological weakness that would cause this?”

  “The weakness may have been too deep,” Jack replied. “Or . . .” he trailed off.

  “Or what?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t a function of nature. Maybe it was intentional.”

  Perry studied his friend for a moment trying to determine if he was making a joke. “Intentional? Like a booby trap?” He began to dust himself off. “That would have to be the world’s biggest animal trap, Jack.”

  “I know, but take a look at it.”

  Perry stepped back to the edge of the depression. Below he could see the backhoe lying on its side like a sick elephant, a full quarter of it buried in loose soil. He let his eyes trace the rugged edge of the pit. It hit him. “It’s rectangular.”

  “I was under the impression that sinkholes generally collapsed in a circular or oval shape, not a rectangular one. At least I don’t ever recall seeing a rectangular sinkhole.”

  “Me neither. How long before we can get a geologist out here?” Perry asked.

  “I bet we could have one by noon tomorrow.”

  “Let’s do it,” Perry said then examined the site again. “I suppose it could be done, although I don’t know how. That would have been a lot of work.”

  “So were the pyramids,” Jack rebutted. “Given enough time and enough people, almost anything is possible.”

  “What triggered it? The weight of the backhoe? I doubt an ancient people could have imagined a device like a backhoe.”

  “Not weight,” Jack said. “Something else.”

  Perry thought for a moment. “The digging.”

  “Right,” Jack said. “Digging is digging, no matter how it’s done. Dirt is moved. We’re just a few meters from the leading edge of our target. If we were digging by hand the ground would have given away at some point.”

  “But the size, Jack. It’s enormous.”

  “A lot of years have passed since then; who knows what has happened below grades. Centuries of water percolation could have enlarged the underlying cavity.”

  “It’s something to look into,” Perry said. “In the meantime . . .”

  “I should arrest you,” a familiar voice said. Perry turned slightly and saw Montulli walking up the grade.

  “I wondered where you went,” Perry said. “Arrest me? Why? Did I double-park?”

  “You know why. I told you stay put. You could have been killed down there.”

  “If it’s any comfort, Sergeant, I told Jack to stay out of the pit too, and he came in anyway.”

  “You two deserve each other,” Montulli snapped. A moment later he asked, “You okay?”

  Perry said he was.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll let your total disregard for my authority in a disaster area go this time,” he said, nodding at the downed backhoe. “How are you going to get that out?”

  “We’ll have to tow it out with the dozer,” Perry said, “but not until after a geologist looks at things.”

  “So you’re shut down for a while,” Montulli said. “Again. That’ll disappoint the crowd.”

  “They’re still there?” Perry said. “At this hour?”

  “They’ve thinned some,” Montulli explained, “but they’ll be back tomorrow. With all the excitement, there may be even more of them. You’re the best entertainment in the county.”

  “Great,” Perry said as he pondered what to do next. “The last thing we need to be is someone’s entertainment.”

  In truth, the crowd bothered him less than the decision he needed to make next. In any other circumstance, he would halt the project until a complete investigation had been performed. But this was not a typical project. So far his secrecy had been compromised, confidential documents had been stolen, crowds were gathered just out of sight, a man had been killed and another injured. Add to all those things that history had just been turned on its ear by the finds already made, and Perry realized that the situation was not going to get any better. Stopping work might actually make things worse.

  “Jack,” Perry said, “I want to meet with you, Gleason, and Dr. Curtis. Send as many of the crew you can spare back to the motel for the night. I want everyone here tomorrow, but let them sleep in a little.”

  “Will do,” Jack said. “You still want the geologist?”

  “Absolutely, and the sooner the better; however, our primary goal has to be reached soon. Additional work can carry on after that.” He paused then said, “Let’s meet in the trailer. Where is Gleason?”

  “He and Brent went down to the ambulance with Lenny,” Jack explained. “He said he’d follow them to the landing spot and come back once the air ambulance was on its way. They should be back soon.”

  “Good,” Perry said. He lowered his head, something he did when his mind kicked into high gear. “Brent can wait out here. I want it to be ju
st the four of us.”

  “I understand.” Jack motioned to the oak grove office. “I think someone else wants to meet with you.”

  Perry raised his head and directed his weary eyes in the direction Jack indicated. Anne was standing in the penumbra created by the work lights. Her hands were folded in front of her, and even at this distance she looked tense.

  “I found her in the crowd when I was coming back up from the ambulance,” Montulli explained. “She wasn’t able to get past my deputies. She said she wanted to talk to you.”

  “Demanded, don’t you mean?” Perry said.

  “Not at all. In fact, she seemed . . . different. Reserved. I thought she’d be livid about having been kept away from the accident site, but she wasn’t. Emotionally up one moment, down the next. They have a word for that. Mercury-something-or-the-other.”

  “Mercurial,” Perry corrected. “Like mercury in a thermometer.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Montulli said.

  “Give me a few minutes with her,” Perry said.

  “Sure, but if you need help, just scream,” Jack said. “I’ll send the sergeant in with guns blazing.”

  “You’re trying to get me killed,” Montulli said. “He’s on his own. As for me, I’m going to call it a night. There are enough deputies to handle what’s left of the crowd until your rent-a-cops get here.”

  Perry turned to the officer; he held out his hand. “Thanks for your help and concern,” Perry said. “I know we have been . . . something of a problem.”

  “You got that right,” Montulli shot back. He paused then said with a slight nod, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

  Perry returned the nod and started toward Anne, steeling himself for another onslaught.

  ANNE TOOK A deep breath as she watched Perry approach. She was relieved to see him walking. From what Montulli had told her when he escorted her up the slope, Perry was lucky to be alive.

  “Um, hi,” she said with a slight smile.

  “Hello,” Perry said. “I didn’t expect to see you again, especially at this hour.”