The Return

by Bentley Little

  "All right, then. I'll meet you downstairs in front of the building in ten minutes. If you have to go to the bathroom, you'd better do it now because we're driving straight through. I want to be back before dark. If you're hungry, pick something up at the snack bar across the way. Bring something to drink, too."

  "All right," Vince said, tapping Cameron's shoulder. "Let's go."

  The Rim was only a two-hour trip from Scottsdale, so they were there by one. Following Cameron's directions, they left the highway, drove down the dirt control road, then pulled into the small dusty parking lot outside the closed ranch gates and got out. The cabin looked just as Cameron remembered it, dark even in the daytime. Automatically, his eyes were drawn to the tree, but the branch which had held Scoutmaster Anderson's face had been sawed off, and when he glanced at the ground underneath the spot, he saw only dry dirt and brown pine needles, no blood.

  He swallowed heavily. "That's it," he said, pointing. "That's where it happened."

  All three of them walked over to the tree, looked around for a few minutes, found nothing, then stepped onto the cabin's porch. The weathered unpainted boards creaked beneath their shoes, and Cameron was afraid the whole structure might collapse. He imagined himself falling through the porch into a deep hidden pit filled with black water and floating there until something unspeakable with long slimy fingers pulled him down to his death.

  Dr. McCormack pushed aside some of the vines and branches, and looked into the right front window.

  "See anything?" Vince asked.

  "No, it's too dark." The professor moved over to the door and tried to pull off some of the overgrown foliage, but vines remained caught in the frame and tangled in the hinges. It seemed to Cameron that plants and bushes were what held this shack together. Both his uncle and Dr. McCormack tried to turn the knob and pull open the door, but they had no luck.

  Cameron was not brave enough to look inside. He did not even like staying out here on the porch. Something about the cabin frightened him, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from it as quickly as possible.

  The tangle of trees and bushes made it impossible to walk around the back of the shack without the aid of a machete, so after peering through the window again and seeing nothing out of the ordinary inside, the professor led them off the porch and across the parking lot to the scout ranch's entrance. Behind the gate, back by the mess hall, a man in a greenish uniform was walking away, carrying a rake and a shovel and a broom. He looked like either a caretaker or a ranger, and Dr. McCormack called out to him, but he didn't seem to hear and kept walking. All three of them started shouting, and when that didn't work either, Cameron sucked in his breath and screamed at the top of his lungs. The high-pitched cry echoed off the nearby cliffs and sent the uniformed man running toward them.

  The ranch was closed until next spring, the rest of this year's scouting season had been cancelled after the murder, and the caretaker--for indeed that's what he was--was not supposed to let anyone in. But after some intimidating talk from Dr. McCormack and a twenty-dollar bill from Uncle Vince, he opened the gates and allowed them inside. "I'm only here until three," he said. "So you got an hour and a half. Then I'm kicking you out."

  Dr. McCormack nodded. "Understood, sir. And thank you."

  The man went off to do his work, and the three of them surveyed the camp. The professor asked Cameron where everything was, trying to get the lay of the land, and he explained what was what. They walked between the bunkhouses toward the foot of the Rim.

  "What are we looking for?" Cameron asked.

  "We don't know," his uncle said. "Probably won't know until we see it."

  "We're looking for some type of Anasazi ruin or some indication that at one time there was a settlement in this region," Dr. McCormack told him.

  "Why?"

  "Why?"

  "I mean, shouldn't we be looking for the monster's cave or something like that? Those Indian villages are what the monster destroyed, right? He went to those places and made all those people disappear. He didn't live there. It's like my neighborhood. He came there and now everyone's gone, but he didn't live there. And once he did it, he left. He probably went back home. Somewhere around here." Cameron looked up at the sheer face of the Rim, the line of pine trees at the top. This was a large area, heavily wooded. Even if they had a team of searchers, even if they spent a week out here, they still wouldn't be able to cover enough ground to look everywhere. It would take a miracle for them to find the monster's lair.

  He looked over at his uncle and was surprised to see both Vince and Dr. McCormack staring at him.

  "The boy's right," the professor said, and the tone of his voice made Cameron feel good. He heard respect in that voice, respect for a good idea without prejudice as to its origin.

  The caretaker was once again carrying his rake and broom and shovel, heading toward the stables.

  "Listen," Dr. McCormack said, flagging him down, "are you aware of any caves or Indian ruins or anything of that nature around here?"

  The man shook his head. "Nope."

  "You've heard these stories about the Mogollon Monster, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, this is going to sound stupid, but . . . we're looking for it. The monster. We think it lives nearby."

  "That doesn't sound stupid at all. It does live nearby, although I couldn't tell you where." He nodded to himself as though confirming something. "I figured that's why you guys were up here." His gaze landed on Cameron. But why's the kid with you? Cameron expected the man to ask, but the caretaker said nothing.

  "What about mines?" Vince asked. "Are there any mines in this area that you know of?"

  "They found footprints by that cabin out front. Big footprints. Right after that scoutmaster got killed. They found his face hanging from the tree."

  Cameron jumped in. "I know. I was there."

  The caretaker ignored him. "That's the only reason I let you in. Because I don't like being alone here by myself. Not after that happened."

  "Have you seen anything since?" Dr. McCormack asked.

  "No, not really. But I don't like it here one bit. I can tell you that. And as soon as I find another job, I'm gone."

  "What about the mines?"

  "Don't know of any mines." He paused, thinking. "But there's the train tunnel."

  "Train tunnel?"

  He nodded. "Around World War II, there was talk of bringing the railroad up here so they could ship ore from the Verde Valley down to Phoenix. They never did though. They started to build a tunnel through the Rim for the railroad to go through because it was impossible to take a train up the Rim. But the rock was too hard and the Rim was too thick, and they abandoned it after going in a hundred yards or so. I think the entrance is all blocked off, but I've never seen it myself. I've heard some hikers have gone in, though, so it's probably not what you're looking for. I don't think the monster lives in there."

  "Where do you think it does live?" Vince asked.

  The caretaker gave a wry smile. "Anywhere it damn well pleases."

  "And how do we get to this train tunnel?" Dr. McCormack inquired.

  "Like I said, I've never been there myself." He pointed through the pine trees. "I'd suggest you take one of those trails that lead to the base of the Rim, and then follow along the edge until you come to it."

  "Are we going to be able to get off your grounds that way? Isn't this area all fenced?"

  He shook his head. "Only the front and the west side, to discourage trespassers. The rear and the east's all open. But you never heard if from me."

  "Thanks."

  The caretaker headed off toward the stables, and the professor shrugged. "It's as good a place to start as any." He looked at his watch. "We'd better get moving. I don't want Alyssa in that house alone after nightfall."

  They followed one of the paths the caretaker had indicated, taking a narrow winding trail that led through the trees, up a small hill, around the edge of a ravine and then along th
e course of a dry streambed. Despite his years of scouting, Cameron was still not much of a hiker, and he was acutely aware of the fact that he was slowing the party down. His uncle and Dr. McCormack were too polite to say anything though, and that made him even more determined to push himself.

  The day was burning hot, and they were all sweating and out of breath by the time they reached the foot of the Rim. The stand of trees through which they'd been hiking opened up, and they emerged in a clear rocky area that reminded him of the desert outside Carefree. Before them, the Mogollon Rim stretched upward into the sky, a rugged cliff of tan and orange where lone pine trees grew on impossibly small outcroppings. Near the top, the ridge was covered with a thick forest of ponderosas.

  None of them had brought water, and Cameron thought that they were like those people he heard about on the news who got dehydrated and suffered from sunstroke and had to be rescued. How could they be so dumb?

  So much for his scout training.

  Vince had gum, and he passed out a piece to each of them. "Chew it," he said. "It creates saliva and will keep your throat from drying out."

  "We shouldn't go much farther," the professor said, unwrapping the foil and placing the gum in his mouth. Cameron was glad to see him put the wrapper in his pocket instead of toss it on the ground. "We'll give it another half hour and then head back if we don't find anything."

  "There's water at the scout ranch," Cameron said. "We could go and get some and then come back again."

  "We'll see," Dr. McCormack said, and Cameron understood that that meant no.

  He faced the Rim wall, looked left, then right. The railroad tunnel was nowhere to be seen. How would they know when they found it? he wondered. What if it was hidden by bushes or covered by an avalanche? Hadn't the caretaker said it had been blocked off?

  He needn't have worried. They found it ten minutes later, around the edge of a rounded outcropping. The entrance was as tall as a two-story building, and the opening was blocked off only by a two-by-four fence that was halfheartedly erected and half falling over. He didn't know how far a hundred yards was, but the tunnel looked deep and he could not see the end of it. Dr. McCormack and his uncle were already stepping through the rickety fence and walking inside. He did not want to go in there, but he didn't want to be left out here on his own, either, so reluctantly he followed them.

  The floor of the tunnel was strewn with rubble, piles of blasted rock mostly, and despite what the caretaker had said, it looked as though no one had been here in years. There was none of the usual graffiti on the walls, no broken liquor bottles or empty beer cans, no candy wrappers or cigarette butts. The tunnel started to get dark a lot quicker than Cameron would have believed with such a massive opening, the sunlight restricted to a dome-shaped area immediately within the entrance. Of course, they didn't have a flashlight. The three of them were without a doubt the worst-prepared searchers ever. They hadn't brought anything with them. Not even a camera, he realized, although this was probably not the best time to mention that.

  Dr. McCormack saw the objects first.

  They were clustered around a tall, freestanding, vaguely oval-shaped rock in the middle of the tunnel. Cameron would have thought it was another boulder and passed right by, but the items encircling the rock indicated that this was something more. In fact, now that he looked at it, the rock, which was approximately his own height, seemed to be a statue or a carving that had been weathered and worn smooth over the years.

  The professor crouched down and picked up what looked like a small Chinese vase, holding it up and trying to catch nonexistent light beams in order to see it better. He used a finger to trace something on the porcelain, then carefully put down the vase and picked up a gold bracelet that even in this half-light was bright and shiny and clearly encrusted with jewels. Literally dozens of objects were placed in a wide circle around the rock: bowls and glasses and jewelry and toys and figurines from all the over the world.

  Offerings, was Cameron's first thought. People had brought the monster offerings in order to make sure that it didn't attack them or their families. But no one around here had stuff like this, and his second thought was: souvenirs. These were things the monster had collected over the years, over the centuries.

  Dr. McCormack picked up an intricately carved pipe.

  "What's it all mean?" Cameron asked.

  "I don't know," the professor said, and he sounded worried. No, not worried. Scared. "I honestly don't know."

  They talked about the train tunnel all the way back to Scottsdale. They had continued on to the end, which turned out to be not much farther, but they hadn't found anything else unusual--although they could not be absolutely positive since it was too dark at the rear of the tunnel to see much of anything. Both his uncle and Dr. McCormack agreed that the freestanding rock and surrounding collection of artifacts from different countries were fairly recent additions. That meant that the monster had been living somewhere else until now. Maybe it still was. They hadn't seen any sign that it actually lived in the train tunnel, and Cameron was glad of that. He imagined slimy severed faces draped over boulders, bloody bodies and bones in the cracks between them. Things he didn't want to see.

  "I'm afraid we're going to have to return and search," Dr. McCormack said. "Glen and Melanie should be back tomorrow. Maybe I'll talk to Captain Ortiz and see if he can spare some men to help us." He looked sheepish. "We'll bring flashlights and water this time. And we'll scour the area to see if we can find where this creature is and where it came from."

  "I don't want to go back there," Cameron said.

  "You don't have to," his uncle told him. "But we do."

  Cameron thought about it and realized that although he was afraid to return to the train tunnel, he would rather go than stay behind. He would not be able to stand waiting in the motel room, wondering when, or if, his uncle was going to return.

  "What if we do find it?" he asked. "What do we do then?"

  For that, neither of them had an answer.

  3

  By the time Melanie and Glen reached Tucson, it was night. They'd driven straight through from Wickenburg, hoping to make it to McGuane before sunset, but when they saw they wouldn't arrive until after midnight, they pulled into a Day's Inn next to the freeway.

  "This is getting to be a habit," Glen said.

  "So much for saving money," Melanie told him.

  "We'll bill it to the university."

  They got out of the car, stretched, then walked across the small parking lot to the lobby. Melanie had a cramp in her calf from sitting for so long in the same position--they'd made only one stop between Wickenburg and Tucson, at a dirty rest area north of Picacho Peak--and she limped across the asphalt. "Look," Glen said, "a shooting star." He pointed up to the southern sky, but she was too late and missed it.

  "Did you make a wish?" she asked him.

  "Are you supposed to? I thought that was the first star you see tonight."

  "There are a lot of different ways to make wishes."

  "I guess people need something to hope for," he said.

  The man in the lobby was dark skinned, wore a blue turban, and spoke in a sing-songy accent that sounded at once utterly alien and completely understandable and that Melanie found fascinating. He rented them a room, but looked upon them with suspicion, and she had the feeling that he wanted to ask them for proof of marriage before allowing them to stay at his establishment.

  The room was in a corner on the second floor and, though much cleaner than the one in Holbrook, was equally charmless. There was cable TV, though, so Glen was happy, and he kicked off his shoes and flopped down tiredly on the king-size bed, using the remote control to flip through channels until he found a rerun of The Simpsons. She herself had never been a big fan of television. She watched the nightly news and an occasional movie, but for the most part it was an unused piece of furniture in her house. She much preferred reading and listening to music. She liked that Glen liked TV, though. She found
that refreshing and she enjoyed snuggling next to him on the bed, watching mindless entertainment.

  She had the feeling that they were on the last leg of their little journey, that whatever happened tomorrow they would be heading back to McCormack's house afterward, and she was more than a little sorry to see it end. Despite the circumstances, maybe even because of them, she had enjoyed being on the road. They'd been in their own little world, moving from car to motel to car to motel. They were good together, comfortable. More than that, they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. It was going to be difficult to return to reality and allow other people into their universe.

  She looked over at him. "Do you think we're actually going to find it this time?"

  "I think so, but I would have wished on the falling star to make sure if I'd known enough to do it."

  She decided to be honest with him and just lay it all out there. "I'm going to miss this," she said. "Being alone with you. Traveling."

  He grinned. "In my profligate way."

  "I could get used to it."

  "I knew you'd come around. What's time and money for if not to spend on the people you love?"

  Pleased, she leaned over, kissed him. "I love you, too," she said.

  After The Simpsons, Glen turned toward her. "So what's the plan for dinner?"

  "I don't know. What sounds good to you?"

  "Why don't we just order pizza and have them deliver it? Eat in."

  Melanie smiled. "I've never had a pizza delivered before."

  He sat up. "Never?"

  "Never have."

  "You haven't lived!" He reached over her to the nightstand, grabbed the yellow pages, and started flipping through the P's. "You're in for one of the great joys of modern life, let me tell you. What do you like?"

  "Bell pepper."

  "No pepperoni?"

  "Bell pepper."

  "Half bell pepper, half pepperoni." He found what he was looking for, slammed the book down on the pillow, and reached for the phone. "Your first delivered pizza. Melanie Black," he promised. "This is going to be a night to remember."