by Alan Baxter
Crowley stared, a look of horror on his face. “Bloody hell. That’s an awful story.”
“Told you.”
They put their canteens away and took to hiking again.
“So do you really think the Egyptian City could be somewhere along this trail?” Rose asked.
Crowley shrugged. “I wish that employee at the Titanic exhibit could have told us more than Tanner’s name in connection with the legend. But it’s the only lead we’ve got. Still, look around. With everything we know so far, this is as likely a place as any.”
Rose had to agree with that. “And I wonder if there’s a connection between the city and the legend of Long Tom’s treasure. These things often overlap and blur together.”
Crowley considered. “I suppose it’s possible. But Long Tom’s treasure cave was supposedly behind a waterfall, you said. There’s no mention of that in the legend of the Egyptian city. At least, not that we’ve heard.”
“Or perhaps the waterfall is BS,” Rose suggested. “Something to throw people off the trail.”
“Or it just wasn’t mentioned. Or maybe not there. You said it was seasonal, right? So people wouldn’t see it every time. Sometimes there’d just be a cave mouth, high up a canyon wall.”
Rose sighed, some of her earlier enthusiasm draining away. “It’s all such wild speculation.”
Crowley pursed his lips. “Then again, according to your story just now, Long Tom committed suicide after finding treasure. I mean, I can understand the despair of finding treasure but losing it again so unjustly, but maybe it was connected to the mummy’s curse?” He laughed, threw Rose a bright grin.
She frowned. She didn’t find the idea funny at all, especially when she considered they were no closer to finding Lily, alive or dead. Crowley’s smile faded and they walked in silence for a while. After another thirty minutes or so, they came to a deep gorge above the Colorado River. Rose paused, scanned the lay of the land. “Remember how the entrance to the lost city was described as high above the riverbed?”
“Yeah,” Crowley said. “You think this is a likely spot?”
“It’s the only place we’ve come to that might fit the description.” She moved to the edge to peer over but Crowley grabbed her arm, pulled her back.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want you to be another muppet tourist falling to your death in the canyon.”
Rose was partly annoyed, but also slightly charmed by his genuine concern. But she wasn’t a child. She shook him off. “I’m being careful. You’re such a grandma.”
Crowley scowled, but couldn’t help a smile escaping. “Just…”
“Be careful?”
“Yeah.” He sighed.
They walked along as close to the edge as they dared, staying near each other, ready to catch. Rose ignored the slight sensation of vertigo from the vertiginous drop right under her feet. She didn’t like being this close to certain death, but their search was too important.
“Don’t forget the legend says the cave can’t be seen from above or below,” Crowley said. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for.”
“Me either.” Rose deflated, stepping back from the edge. “Perhaps we should have hired a helicopter.”
Crowley stood, hands on hips, looked around critically. “You know, I think we’re onto something here. We just need to come at it from a different angle. Now we’ve had a closer look, I think maybe coming back in a chopper is a good idea.”
“Shall we head back and see about that?”
“I think it’s the only option left to us now.”
They turned to retrace their steps when Rose stopped, stared at the ground just before them. An eroded line snaked across the trail and down over the edge.
“What’s so interesting?” Crowley asked.
Rose pointed out the miniature valley across the trail. “The story of Long Tom’s treasure? The seasonal waterfall. It would be a dry bed outside the rainy season.”
Crowley stepped up beside her, then crouched to look at the indentation in the trail. It was full of loose rock and dust, but a good couple of meters wide, maybe half a meter deep at the center.
Rose looked back up the trail, followed the declining lay of land. “I think that would probably look like a waterfall at the right time of year,” she said. “Falling right over the edge here.”
Crowley remained non-committal, but Rose ignored him and moved to the edge of the canyon. “Hold onto me.”
Crowley leaped up, hurried over. “Wait a minute!”
“Don’t be a grandma, Jake. Hold me.”
He grabbed her by the belt and bent his knees to brace himself. “I don’t like this!”
She leaned out, peering over the lip of rock. “Ha! I see a ledge, just like in Kinkaid’s account. You remember?”
Crowley pulled her back. “I remember. But please, be careful!”
“We need to climb down there and check it out.”
Crowley dropped to his belly and scooted forward to look over. He shook his head. “We need to come back with equipment and a plan.”
“We both brought rope.”
“That hardly constitutes equipment and a plan!”
Rose took a deep breath to contain her excitement and trepidation. Was it really possible they had found what they were looking for? Everything indicated they had. She got down on hands and knees, peered over the edge again. There were lots of handholds. “It’s not that far. Put a rope around me, I’ll climb down and check it out. You can pull me back up if I get into trouble.”
“Are you serious?” When he saw she was, he held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. But I should be the one to climb down.”
“What, because you’re the man? I’m just a weak and feeble woman, incapable of this manly stuff?” She saw the swift wince of contrition pass over his face.
“That’s not what I meant, of course you’re capable.”
“You don’t have to mother me all the time, Jake. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to pull you back up.”
Crowley let out a deep breath. “This is a bad idea. It’s too remote, and not worth the risk.”
Rose pointed over the edge of rock. “The city, if it exists, is in a remote location. We know that. Otherwise it would have been found already. At some point, we’re going to have to take some risks. Besides, what if Lily’s down there right now, in need of help?” As soon as that thought had occurred to her, she was convinced and knew she would go down with or without Jake’s help.
Before he could stop her, she shrugged off her backpack and slid on her belly, feet first over the edge. Crowley barked her name, panic in his voice, but she was committed. She found a toehold, let herself go further back, then a handhold, then she was away, down towards the ledge of rock below.
Chapter 42
Tanner Trail, near Grand Canyon Village
Crowley shouted her name again. She heard the scuff of gravel as he rushed towards her. His hand swept through the air just above her as he made a grab for her. She scrambled down quickly out of his reach.
She gritted her teeth, ignored Jake cursing her stubbornness, and kept climbing. But a fear had set in, trembling in her knees. Already her grip was weakening, her arms shaking. She was strong and a capable climber, but fear started to morph into panic as she realized how stupid she had been, how impetuous. For a brief moment, her frustration at this wild goose chase, her worry that something awful would happen to Lily before she had a chance to mend the relationship, had overwhelmed her and pushed her to reckless action.
Now common sense began to prevail once more. Rose’s stomach turned to water, the trembling increased in her arms, as she became keenly aware of her own mortality. Aware of just how far the drop to the canyon floor was from her position, precarious like a fly on the rock face so high up. Although a fly could grip and her grip was failing. The toehold she had last found, that seemed so certain moments ago, felt too small for her booted foot, the handholds uncertain. Col
d sweat made her fingertips slippery, rivulets of sweat trickled over her wrists, down the center of her back. She took a long shuddering breath, knowing she shouldn’t look down, but she had to know how far it was to the ledge.
“Rose!” Crowley’s voice was firm, authoritative, but she heard the fear underlying his brave façade. “Climb back up, Rose!”
She ignored him, looked down. The ledge, which had seemed so close to her excited eyes before, was suddenly tiny and a long way off. Unable to avoid the compulsion, her gaze drifted out, down to the canyon floor, where the dark, serpentine waters of the Colorado twisted through the parched landscape. A tiny sound of horror escaped her. Dizzy, she closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. A rushing sound, like crashing waves, filled her ears. Her pulse pounded, too strong, too fast. She felt it in her chest, but in her neck too, in her temples. It would be so easy to just let go.
And with a bright flash of shock and panic, she was alert again.
Crowley’s voice came to her as if from a great distance. “I’m lowering the rope. Rose, look up!”
The rope, a big loop at the end, dropped over the rocks and slithered towards her, making a scuffing sound as it slid across the rocks.
“Is a noose the best idea?” she asked, and let out a laugh that was entirely too high-pitched. Too manic.
Crowley’s voice remained calm. Concerned, but the fear was gone. He was in operational mode now, doing what needed to be done. She needed to match that, and she knew she could. “It’s a bowline knot,” Crowley said. “So it won’t cinch up... never mind that, just put your bloody arm through it.”
Rose realized he was right. There was no time for pep talks or banter. She had put herself in a ridiculous situation and all that remained was to get out of it, quickly. She secured her grip with her right hand, let go with her left, and reached for the rope. As her fingers brushed the bright nylon material, her footing gave way. The stone beneath her right foot crumbled, her leg shot straight down, then her left gave up its toehold on the tiny rock it was wedged against. Air rushed past her as her stomach lifted while her body fell. The rough cliff face shredded her clothes, scoured her skin. She had no time to scream, fingertips scrabbling for purchase, before a powerful jerk bounced her and pain shot through her shoulder.
Her fall was arrested and she realized she managed to hook her arm through the loop as she fell. Just. What felt like a precipitous drop had only been a couple of meters. To add insult to humiliation, she could clearly see the ledge below now and there was nothing there. No cave, not even a crack in the orange rock face. Angry and embarrassed, she found secure footing and a strong handhold and got the rope looped around her chest, secured it beneath her armpits.
She looked up and saw Crowley’s face, concerned, eyes wide, looking over the edge. The sun behind him made him seem to glow. “You okay?” he asked.
“Pull me up, Jake.”
The way back up was painful as she tried to assist Crowley as much as she could. But she spent more time banging her knees against the rocks than she did finding secure footholds. As Crowley braced and grunted, hauling her up, she collected new abrasions on her face and arms. By the time he pulled her over the edge, thankfully, blessedly, back on solid flat rock, it was all she could do to hold in her rage. How could she have let her emotions overcome her like that? Let her make a fool of herself like that in front of Crowley? And why did she care what he thought? It was all too much to unpack and explore and she let out a roar of frustration.
Crowley stepped back in shock, then quickly came forward again. He reached for her. “You’re okay.”
She sucked quick, shallow breaths. “Piss off, Jake. We should head back.”
Hurt passed over his face, but she ignored it, turned to walk away. But the pain and exhaustion overwhelmed her, sank her in a wave of relief. Her knees buckled and Crowley shot forward, caught her before she faceplanted on the hard rock. He pulled her close and the dam broke. Terrified at how closely stupidity had just lead her to certain death, fear for Lily’s well-being, frustration at every dead end, every ridiculous, pointless clue, it all flooded out. She turned her face into Crowley’s chest and sobbed.
He held her tight with one arm, gently stroked her hair with his free hand. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”
She found comfort in his strength, knew she was strong too, but was nevertheless grateful at that moment for Jake’s stability. But a quiet, private voice wondered if she really was all right.
Chapter 43
Mosayru Lodge, Grand Canyon Village
Crowley felt terrible for Rose, but a sense of relief pervaded his concern. While she had made a thoroughly stupid mistake out there on the trail, she hadn’t died. When it came to it, her cool head had prevailed even if she had had to melt down afterward. And that was where the relief lay. He thought perhaps she had needed that outlet, the steam valve blowing on her emotional pressure cooker. All this was hard enough for him but, just like before with the Landvik stuff, it was personal to Rose. She had no way out of it, her sister’s life at stake. Given that nothing worse than scratches and bruises had occurred, he was glad she’d had the chance to blow out.
He found a place for them to stay and plan, the Mosayru Lodge in Grand Canyon Village, near the south rim. It was a solid two-story adobe-style building on the outside, but inside had all the trappings of the classic hunting-lodge. Cedar paneling on the walls reflected soft light from antler chandeliers, deer heads protruded from the walls. There was a huge common room, packed with opulent armchairs and couches and a big fireplace crackled in a deep, gray stone hearth.
Their room was simple but comfortable with two large single beds and a desk, TV, clean bathroom. Crowley had given up wondering if they might eventually share a double bed. All things in time. Once they were checked in, Rose excused herself to clean up. She yelped with delight on seeing the big tub in the bathroom.
“I’m going to soak in here for a while!”
Crowley smiled. That would no doubt feel good. “Sure thing.”
He laid back on one of the beds and let himself drift in and out of a light doze for a while until movement brought him around again. Rose sat on the edge of his bed.
“Can you help me?”
He coughed to clear his throat, thick from dozing, pulled himself into a sitting position. She wore a heavy toweling robe, her smooth legs visible from its hem, slim feet bare. “Of course, what do you need?”
She smiled uncertainly. “Now, no funny business, okay? I need you to check some wounds.”
Crowley steadied himself. “All right.”
She paused, then dropped the robe off her shoulders. She wore a smooth black bra underneath, no lace, but a provocative cut. Her skin was smooth and lightly tanned, her shape enough to make the breath catch in Crowley’s throat. He shifted uncomfortably to a more suitable position.
There were long grazes up the left side of her flat stomach, under both forearms and across her left shoulder. “Here,” she said, pointing to the shoulder.
Mustering all his self-control, Crowley leaned forward for a better look. It was a nasty abrasion, leaking plasma in a few places where she had managed to take off most layers of skin. She held up a make-up removal pad and a bottle of disinfectant.
Crowley took the items and cleaned a few last bits of sand from the wound carefully while she hissed between her teeth.
“Stings?” he asked.
She nodded, looking past him, towards the windows and the wan late afternoon light spilling in.
“You have a dressing?” he asked. “Or I can get one.”
“Here.” She held out some first aid kit gauze and micropore tape. Crowley put some soothing cream onto the clean wound, then dressed it neatly. He looked down at her stomach, but she quickly pulled the robe up and closed it.
“I did that. It’s just hard to see my shoulder well enough to do it one-handed, you know?”
“Of course.”
“I did my
arms and knees too,” she said. She sounded almost apologetic.
Crowley smiled, tried to let her know with that look that he was okay with help she needed, or whatever space. “Cool.”
She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, long and lingering. Her lips were hot. “Thank you, Jake.”
He forced a weak smile, unsure what to say. The silence between them stretched as they watched each other. Crowley lost himself in her large eyes, imagined running his hands over that smooth flesh she had so recently covered up. He couldn’t help himself picturing it.
The silence threatened to grow uncomfortable, then Rose drew in a breath through her nose. She kissed his cheek again, quick and almost perfunctory this time, and the moment passed.
“Let’s get dressed and go downstairs for something to eat,” she said.
Crowley nodded, wondering if he might need a cold shower first. “Good plan,” he said instead.
Fifteen minutes later they sat side by side in one of the large leather couches by the gently crackling fire. Only two other people shared the common room with them, an elderly couple facing each other over a dark, scratched wooden table, playing backgammon. The couple murmured to each other, but were too far away to be overheard.
Crowley sipped the tea they had ordered and grimaced. “American tea.”
Rose looked down at her cup with an expression of mild insult. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think it would be so hard to get right.” She picked up a pastry, dusted with bright white icing sugar and took a large bite. She smiled as she chewed. “These though. These they get right.”
Crowley’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. “Cameron,” he said, after glancing at the screen. “What’s happening, my brother from another mother?”
Rose frowned, half-laughing, shook her head. Crowley gave her a What? look, and grinned.
