by Nick Thacker
He had no light with him, but he ducked inside anyway. Feeling around with his hands and arms, he felt the excitement within him growing.
Tomorrow he would head here first thing, bringing a torch with him and a few extra men. It was a long shot, but this was the type of cave that would have made a perfect shelter for one of the native tribes that called this place home. So far they had not encountered any such people, but it was well documented that indigenous tribes lived along these rivers.
A light appeared behind him, flickering and orange. He could almost feel the heat of the torch as it grew brighter.
“Nicholas?” A voice said, softly. “Is that you?”
It was the doctor’s voice, firm and steady but unsure.
“Yes, doctor,” Nicholas said. “Bring the light, I would like to have a look at this place.”
The doctor responded by stepping forward to Nicholas’s side, and he lifted the torch up in front of them.
Scrawled on the wall in front of them were dozens of paintings articulating dancing men and women around fires, hunting trips, and deaths.
So many deaths.
One particularly macabre painting showed a man and woman, their arms outstretched, laying sideways next to one another. Large crosses had been drawn over their eyes in the common representation of death. Six children were drawn below them, haphazardly, as if added at different times in the past.
Nicholas and the doctor gazed at the drawings for a minute, trying to decipher the storyline that had been presented to them. Sections of paintings had been scratched out and painted over, as if the original author had changed the story halfway through.
“What does it mean, sir?”
Nicholas didn’t respond. He took the torch from the other man’s hand and continued walking deeper into the cave. A few feet past this first wall, the ceiling expanded and he rose to his full height. More paintings continued on the walls to his left and right, and arrows were drawn near the floor. Continuing on, the small cavern twisted to the left and ended in a rounded chamber.
He swung the torch around this room, at first looking for a continuation of the path he was on. Finding none, he moved the torch near the floor. Stacks of bones and skulls lay atop one another, of all shapes and sizes. Men, women, and children all lay together, separated into what he assumed must have been families.
In front of these he found baskets, woven from the sinewy skins of animals, with lids fashioned from skin and bones. The leatherwork was remarkable, and he reached down to grab one. He examined it closer, handing the light to the doctor. Stamped into the sides and top of the basket were designs and symbols that he couldn’t interpret. They swirled around the edges, leaving no section of leather untouched.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. He twisted the top of the basket, finding the lid secured on tightly either by design or from years of sitting. He gave the lid a harder twist and felt a pop. The top of the basket came off, sending dust shooting through the air. He waved it away and dropped the lid to the ground.
He saw what was inside, and only then realized how heavy the basket was. He turned to the basket upside down, emptying its contents onto the cave floor. Hundreds of silver coins sprinkled out, bouncing off the rock and rolling around.
“For the glory of…” The doctor said, his voice holding in his throat.
“I imagine this is the sort of thing we have come here for,” Nicholas said. He scooped up a handful of the silver coins and held them up to the light. “Do you recognize these?”
“No. I have never seen such a design.”
Upon the surface of each coin was a remarkably intricate design; either hand carved or stamped. It featured the bust of a native man, and Nicholas could even see the outline of a frown on his face. He was surrounded by what looked like fire, each wisp carefully measured and drawn.
He flipped it over in his hand. The back was a reflection of the front, with the same native man frowning up at them. The fire, however, was markedly absent from the side. In its place were swirls and lines, which looked to be framing the man in the center.
“Fire on one side, wind on the other,” Nicholas whispered. “A dichotomy. What could it represent?”
“What is in the other baskets?” The doctor asked. He reached for another, trying at first to lift it from the ground. The basket slid a few inches toward him but stayed on the floor. “I believe this one is considerably heavier, sir,” he said.
Nicholas reached down and twisted the lid free. He pushed the basket over with his right foot, and watched as silver coins fell out. Reaching down, he could see that the same design as the other coins appeared on these as well.
“Doctor,” he said, “return and wake the men. Bring them here, and bring the satchels as well. There are at least twenty of these baskets spread throughout this room, and if each contains even a portion of of these first two, it should be more than enough to justify a return home.”
Nicholas wasn’t greedy, but he felt the stirrings of excitement growing in his chest. He would share this treasure with his men without question, but he needed to be sure of what he had found. He moved to the back of the cavern, now standing directly in front of the pile of skeletons. Reaching down, he lifted the lid on one of the baskets that had been placed close to the back.
More dust spread outward from the freshly opened container, and he blinked and waved it away with his free hand. He pushed the torch down closer to the top of the basket and peered inside.
It was empty.
He frowned, and reached for the basket nearest it. He lifted the lid on this one as well.
Empty, save for a few small tools.
He considered calling the doctor back, but stopped himself. Why would they bury them here, he wondered. Why would they place a nearly empty basket next to a tribute to their deceased loved ones?
Had someone come before him? Someone who had found the baskets and emptied some of them?
Again, it didn’t make sense. Anyone who had explored this came before them would certainly have emptied it of its treasures. They would not have left anything behind of value, and they certainly wouldn’t have put the lids back on each basket.
But these two baskets were empty, right? He looked again, this time lifting one of the baskets to eye level and turning it. He could see the fine sinewy lines of the bottom, woven together and sewn shut. A few of the tools shuffled around at the bottom; what looked like a few small pipes, a bowl made of clay, and some other small sticks and rocks.
He coughed, and realized for the first time how thick the dust in the air had become. Waving his hands, he backed away from the burial site. He coughed again, and again, this time feeling his lungs strain with the effort.
He turned away from the realm and walked back upward until the cave ceiling closed in on him. He stepped out of it, and into the small clearing. Night had fallen completely, and millions of stars peered down on him. He fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath. He sucked in air, forcing his lungs back open again. He struggled forward, then rolled onto his back in the snow. Nicholas calmed his thinking and shut his eyes.
Breathe. He willed himself to breathe, in and out, until he felt the dust clearing his system. He began to breathe more regularly, his breaths normal and controlled.
Just then he heard the footsteps of his men running toward the clearing. He stood and brushed the snow from his back. He lifted his head and walked towards the edge of the woods. “Have you retrieved the satchels?”
“We have, sir. Where is the cave?” The voice was Sven’s, the huge bear of a man tumbling out of the woods first in front of the rest of the group. His eyes were wide and his breath was heavy, pouring out of his mouth and nose in great bursts. Nicholas enjoyed the man’s company, as Sven was the only one among them who was as dedicated a naturalist and as knowledgeable as he. He bore the scars on his face and body of a lifetime serving his homeland as a soldier, and a lifetime as a woodsman.
Nicholas pointed behind him, and Sven
nodded. The group, fifteen men in all, trotted by Nicholas and entered the small cave. Soon three of them emerged again with their satchels heavy, filled with the burden of the jingling coins. The ordeal took only thirty minutes, and they joined Nicholas in the clearing when they were finished. Only four of the baskets had been empty, including the two Nicholas had found.
If the men were jovial before, they were near ecstatic now. They knew their leader was a fair and honest man, and they would each get a good portion of the discovery. The primary cartographer among them, Mr. Roruk, began scratching some notes into a small notebook he had produced from his pocket. He marched off the edges of the clearing, counting each step as he went and drawing them into this book.
When he finished, he nodded to Nicholas and they returned to the main camp.
“We leave tomorrow,” Nicholas said as the other men gathered around. “We have added too much weight to continue the expedition for now, and it will be a burden already with the water and food we must port with us.”
Cheers erupted around the fire, and the men broke into song. Nicholas wondered how men could be so merry without the aid of spirits and drink, but he did not stifle the mood. He silently stepped away from the doctor and Sven and entered his A-frame tent. As the leader of this expedition, he shared it with no other man, and he enjoyed the privilege. He slipped off his parka and jostled on to his cot and inside the roll of blankets he had laid down earlier.
The noise around the campfire grew, but Nicholas could hardly hear it. He felt as if his mind was on fire, as if his head was being held above a pot of boiling water. He began to sweat and his hands and arms began to itch. He struggled to stifle the burning sensation, and he almost considered calling out for the doctor’s aide. Before he could, however, he drifted into and welcome and deep sleep.
1704, NORTHWEST TERRITORY, CANADA
NICHOLAS awoke the next morning to an odd sound.
Silence.
Pure, pristine, winter silence. He recognized it immediately, as it brought him back to his youth. He had not heard the sound since they had left Russia, as moving with a group of almost thirty men almost guaranteed that every moment would be filled with some sound or another.
He threw the blankets off his body and stood next to his cot. His head brushed the top pole of his tent as he walked forward and opened the flaps. The fire had diminished to coals and ash, but wisps of smoke betrayed its underlying heat. The cluster of tents was situated in a circle around the fire, like spokes on a wagon wheel. His tent was the northernmost one, and separated from the others on each side by a few rows of trees. He moved to his left, to the doctor’s tent.
“Doctor? Sven?” He called into the tent. He entered, finding the two men on each side of the tent still sleeping beneath mounds of blankets and furs. He kicked at the doctor’s cot with an unlaced boot and asked again.
Hearing nothing in return, Nicholas pulled the covers from the man’s head. He stumbled backward as he saw what lay in front of them. The flesh of the doctors face had been eaten away by a rash, red boils covering the surface of his skin. The doctor’s eyes were open, but they were glazed over in death.
Nicholas instinctively lifted a hand to his mouth, struggling to hold back vomit he felt rising in his throat. He pulled the blanket away completely, and found every inch of exposed skin on the doctor’s body covered in similar boils. He moved towards Sven’s cot and lifted his blanket away as well.
More rash. More boils.
Sven had also passed sometime during the night. Both men lay peacefully on their blankets, looking upward at the ceiling of the tent with blank eyes. Nicholas moved away, closing the flap behind him. He looked down at his own hands and arms and noticed the rash had spread and thickened.
It was no longer itchy, but he felt the heat radiating from his skin on the places around his body that had been infected. Last night it was just his hands and arms, but now he felt it over his shoulders, neck, and upper back.
He checked two more tents, finding the same horrifying faces staring up at him in each one. All of his men — all twenty-seven of them — were dead.
He was the sole survivor in an expedition that was now thousands of miles away from home, in one of the remotest places known to man.
Another tree cracked in the distance, and he knew that winter was about to set in for good.
FEBRUARY 2014, YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK
Drew watched the end of his rifle peek through the small space between the two bushes. He readjusted his left knee, moving a rock to the side that he had crushed under his jeans. He held the rifle steady, using a stray branch of one of the bushes as a platform. He watched the scene through the end of the scope.
The grizzly was busy rummaging through the food from an overturned cooler in the clearing. The male, small for his age but no less dangerous, grunted in delight as he discovered bits of bacon and pancakes from that morning's breakfast.
The campers had long since fled, calling the main park line and complaining of a nuisance bear in the area. They were worried the bear would enter their camp and scare their kids, or worse.
Worried the bear would do what it was designed to do, Drew thought.
These types of campers were the worst kind — they left a mess, complained constantly, and ruined the sanctity of the biosphere they'd stumbled into.
People treated camping like a vacation. Like nature was designed specifically to please them. Drew hated them, almost as much as hated this part of his job.
Nuisance animals — everything from raccoons to grizzlies — were a major turnoff for visitors and tourists, and therefore a problem. People knew no better than to be scared away by animals looking for an easy meal, even if they were more scared of the campers than the campers were them.
Drew slid the round into the chamber and took aim. He closed each eye in turn, checking the distance and trying to gauge where the bear would move next. He watched the thick neck muscles throb as the great beast tore off a chunk of cardboard from the pile of smelly trash he'd found.
That was the other thing Drew hated about these people. They had no intention of learning anything — how to cook, what to eat in the woods, how to find food — they just wanted the comforts of home in a temporary excursion from reality.
The bear straightened its neck slightly and Drew suddenly caught a glimpse of his left eye. The eye glistened with age, a sheen of gray sparkling in the corner.
Mo.
Drew recognized the grizzly from the other times he’d encountered it down here. He had helped a few crews move him only months ago last summer, and again two years prior to that.
Drew sighed, and focused on the air leaving his lungs. He sucked in a quick, small breath, and held it in. He counted to five and pulled the trigger.
The explosion took him by surprise — it always did. The juxtaposition of the man-made machine he'd just fired was severely out of place in this pristine environment, and he was immediately remorseful.
The bear bristled and sat straighter, its back still to Drew. He turned slowly, his head lolling around as the tranquilizer began to take effect.
Drew waited, not wanting to alert the bear. Angering or exciting an animal just before they fell asleep would cause undue stress, and it may even put them in danger. After a few more seconds, the bear let out a low moan as it stood on its hind feet. It spun completely around, unsteady on its feet, then fell back to the ground. The grizzly lay down on the damp leaves, and his head fell to the forest floor.
Drew waited a full minute, then stepped out of his hiding spot. He pushed through the bushes, not bothering to spread the brambles apart before he walked forward. He crossed the clearing and stood next to the animal.
"Sorry about that, Mo," he said softly. "Let's get you back up north again."
Drew unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt and rotated the knob at the top.
"This is Drew Steele," he said into the device. "I've got Mo dropped up here; requesting assistance to g
et him cleared."
The radio crackled, then came to life.
"Affirmative, Steele, thanks. We're sending out a crew — tag the location and stand by for location verification."
Drew replaced the radio and removed his phone. He opened an app on the home screen and clicked around a few times, setting his current location into the device's memory, then turned on the GPS beacon.
Within minutes, a crew of four men and two women arrived at the campsite and began strapping the grizzly onto a board.
The rangers would then move Mo to another area of the park with less human traffic. He would eventually wander down again, drawn to the enticing opportunity ignorant campers left him.
This was Mo's second repositioning, and Drew was worried it would be his last.
Don't come back down here, Mo, Drew willed the sleeping giant. I won't be able to help you out again.
THE CHEVY HICCUPED OVER AN invisible pothole in the road, and the aging suspension compensated with a clicking sound and a groan. Drew pulled the truck to the left, easing it back to the center of the small dirt road. He reached out instinctively and turned up the radio, the country song already blaring through the strained cabin speakers.
“You really don’t like to talk, do you?” Drew’s passenger yelled. The young man sitting to his right glanced over to Drew.
Drew kept his attention forward at the uneven road laying before them, not responding. Carlos Rivera turned back and looked out his side window. Over the past hour Drew had hardly spoken, and what he had said was mainly instructive, telling Rivera to “call in to base” or “check Mo” in the truck bed. Carlos complied each time, but his offers to engage in conversation had been met with silence.
They drove on for another fifteen minutes, moving slowly over bumps and holes in the road. Finally Drew pulled off the road and began guiding the truck over a small plain toward the edge of the forest. Behind it a small mountain lifted itself from the flat ground, shadowed by Antler Peak to the north. As they drove, Drew took in the surroundings — it was beautiful, pristine. He took a deep breath and turned the radio back down.
