Carved in Stone (6 page)

“Mayan.” It was inconceivable, but that’s why they’d looked vaguely familiar to him. He’d done a lot of undergraduate study on the Mayan civilizations before focusing more on the legends tied to North American peoples. Carefully, he replaced his glasses in his shirt pocket. Then he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the log next to the dying fire.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and, clasping the heavy mug in both hands, stared into the cooling embers. He barely noticed when Alex poured herself some coffee and sat down next to him.

“I don’t know much at all about the Maya,” Nate finally said, shaking his head in frustration. “My field is North American cultures, antiquities and folklore. Ask me whatever you want to know about Miwok legends, or the Mandan legends or the history of the Ghost Dance, but don’t expect me to know much at all about Mayan culture.”

He paused, arched his back to work out a kink, then sighed with pleasure as Alex’s strong hands began kneading the tight muscle. Her touch surprised him; he wondered if she was even aware of what she was doing.

The image of a subservient Alex in full harem girl costume flashed into his head—he almost blew it by laughing out loud. Definitely not a realistic portrait of the woman he was beginning to know and—almost reluctantly—admire. Whatever her reason for easing his tired muscles, though, her touch felt so good Nate forgot what he was saying.

“I wish I knew more.” Alex smoothed the back of Nate’s shirt in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture and then stood. “I only know that I could feel them calling, but I have no idea who
they
were, or what any of it meant. I definitely had a sense of more than one voice.”

“I read it as a warning.” Nate hadn’t really thought about it before, but in retrospect he’d definitely sensed danger, briefly, uncomfortably, when he’d encountered some of the more intricate carvings. Why hadn’t he recognized it earlier?

“I really hadn’t thought this through,” he said, thinking it through now as he tried to work out the sense of what had happened, “but if there is some truth to the legend and if we accept our feelings as something more than our overactive imaginations, this could be dangerous.”

Now, how was he going to phrase this so he didn’t tick her off? Instead of meeting her steady gaze, he chose to stare at the towering cliff after a quick glance over his shoulder and a nonchalant shrug for Alex’s benefit. “After all, the legend is about a curse. The petroglyphs at the top of the cliffs, just below the edge of the plateau where I want to go today, had the strongest effect on me of any of the carvings I found last year. I never really got close to them, but I’m almost certain what I felt in their energy was a warning. I sensed danger.”

Why were those memories so confusing, almost as if they’d been erased from his mind—and wasn’t that a scary thought? How could he have forgotten that powerful feeling, the inherent danger, the feeling that it was a warning he really had to pay close attention to? Slowly shaking his head, he focused once more on Alex. “I don’t get it. I’m a really curious guy, but for whatever reason last year I talked myself out of going up there. They made me that uneasy.”

Alex turned away from Nate and shaded her eyes as she gazed in the direction of the cliff. Nate enjoyed a moment admiring the smooth line of her hip and buttock and muscled thigh. She reminded him of a panther, dark and sleek and strong. But she was still a woman.

Folding his arms across his chest, he escaped into his serious professor voice. “I need to follow through on this, on whatever it was I felt.” He nodded at her pile of equipment. “I think it’s best for you to stay here at camp, at least until I check things out.”

Crap, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. She whirled and stood, fists clenched, and actually snarled at him.

“I thought we got past that. You hired me. If you don’t want me on the climb, then fire me. But quit trying to protect me.”

He held his hands up in surrender, choosing defeat over disagreement. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Don’t hurt me. I apologize.” He grinned, hoping to force Alex to smile in return. “It’s just that old habits die hard.”

When she just shook her head and laughed, he grabbed one of her bags to help pack the rest of her gear. She swung a teasing right hook at his chin, and he dodged it, laughing. He couldn’t help but think that if they ran into any bad spirits, the ghosts wouldn’t have a chance.

Chapter 5

“Hold up, Nate. My pack’s hung up on a branch.”

Nate slipped his own, smaller pack to the ground and turned to help Alex. The twisted limbs of a scrub oak held her captive, tangled and caught in the nylon straps on her backpack. He easily lifted the pack from her shoulders and pulled the straps free of the limbs while she slid out from under the heavy bag.

“I thought you said this was a road. A raccoon would have trouble getting through this stuff.” Alex stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. The motion thrust her small breasts against the yellow fabric of her shirt and her nipples made dark shadows through the thin material.

Nate blinked, at a loss for a quick comeback. He dragged his gaze away from Alex’s chest. “It used to be a road.” His voice sounded thick even to his own ears, but Alex in an almost transparent T-shirt made it hard to concentrate.

But she was right. It wasn’t much of a road. They’d been following the deeply rutted trail for over an hour, winding steadily upward and around the back side of the mountain through tangles of scrub oak and deer brush. Pine and cedar trees formed a dense green wall on either side of the cut.

“There are fire trails all over these mountains.” Nate glanced at the spare evidence of a man-made cut along one side. The other edge was lost in heavy growth. “That’s probably what this was. The Forest Service used to maintain the trails, but with all the budget cuts they don’t even come into this area anymore.”

“It doesn’t appear many people do.” Alex reached for the water bottle clipped to her belt.

“No. I’ve been coming up here with Roger since he was first stationed in Weaverville. I’ve never seen another person back here. Most folks seem to want more. Yosemite. Mt. Lassen. Tahoe.”

“Indoor plumbing.”

Nate laughed. “Exactly. Personally, I’ll take a bush in the woods anytime, as long as I can have the solitude and the quiet.”

“I don’t mind the bush in the woods.” She popped open the top on the bottle, took a long swallow, wiped her lips with the back of her hand and added, “But if I’m gonna use a bush, solitude’s definitely a prerequisite.”

“Amazing.” Nate grinned. “We finally agree on something.”

“I guess it’s a start.” She watched him steadily, unblinking, but there was a decided tilt to her lips.

He caught her gaze and held it. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

A charged silence filled the air around them. The tiny bird noises, the whisper of the breeze through the treetops, the natural sounds that blend to create a harmonious forest hush all disappeared.

Alex was the first to glance away.

She pulled a large red bandana out of her hip pocket and wiped the bright sheen of perspiration from her brow, then took another drink of water.

Nate stared at the long dark column of her throat as she swallowed. He clenched his fingers tightly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her smooth, nut-brown skin.

Her eyes were closed, a look of pleasure on her face. Nate swallowed, imagining the taste of the cool water, his eyes focusing on the line where her soft lips covered the open top of the bottle.

Alex sighed, a sound of contentment that shivered along Nate’s spine. Spellbound, he watched as she carefully wiped the top of the bottle and tightened the lid, then turned and smiled at him.

Nate reached out with one fingertip to catch a tiny drop of water that clung to the corner of her mouth. Still staring at her full lips, he rubbed the moisture between his thumb and forefinger.

Startled by his touch, Alex raised her eyes to meet his, only to fall into the trap of his absolute concentration. His eyes were dark. She’d thought they were brown, but they were really a deep hazel, their centers chips of black obsidian.

Endless and dark, drawing her imperceptibly closer, filling her soul with a sense of heated anticipation, a need that parted her lips and sent a deep shaft of longing to rage silently through her middle. She shivered.

A mechanical throbbing rent the air, close enough that the vibrations rumbled through her body, distorting her unexpected reaction to Nate.

“What’s that?” Startled into awareness, Alex blinked and looked wildly about.

“It’s a helicopter. Roger’s not due back yet. Something must be wrong.” Nate captured Alex’s hand as she reached for her pack. Throwing his own bag over his shoulder, he dragged her along the rough trail. They rounded a large volcanic outcropping and burst out of the thick forest at the top of the plateau.

Hand in hand, they raced across the uneven surface to the cliff’s edge.

A small chopper crossed the airspace just ahead of them, then dipped below the edge of the cliff.

It wasn’t Roger.

Instinctively, Nate dropped to his belly at the cliff’s edge and pulled Alex down beside him. Together, they inched to the very brink of the precipice, dislodging a tiny cascade of pebbles that fell almost five hundred feet to the ground.

In the small clearing far below and about half a mile to the south, Alex spotted their two brightly colored tents partially hidden by a copse of trees. They reminded her of tiny game pieces. Locating the campsite helped to get her bearings.

The area directly below them was a small flat clearing about a quarter of a mile north of the spot where she and Nate had climbed yesterday. A small helicopter, the kind that always reminded Alex of a big dragonfly, squatted in the tiny clearing fairly close to the base of the cliff, almost directly below them.

But this dragonfly didn’t belong here.

Helicopters were forbidden in this designated primitive area. Roger had explained it to Alex, how he’d needed special permission to drop her so close to the campsite. Otherwise, she would have had to hike over ten miles—impossible with all her heavy equipment—or rely on pack animals to carry her gear.

Because of the rushed nature of the assignment and the lack of available pack animals in the area, Roger had gotten permission for the flight.

Alex doubted the chopper below had approval for anything.

One man dressed in military camouflage leaned against the clear bubble canopy of the small craft. What looked like an assault rifle rested crosswise in his arms.

A thinner man, roughly dressed and wearing a cowboy hat, stood nearby, partially hidden by an overhanging ledge. His voice echoed hollowly up the rock face, the words faintly distorted in the still air. He called to a third person, who immediately appeared carrying a large bundle wrapped in burlap. The third man handed the bundle to the man in the cowboy hat, who loaded it into the chopper. A second bundle followed, and a third.

The man in camouflage began to pace around his craft.

Suddenly he spun about. Raising the gun to his shoulder, he fired off a single shot at the face of the cliff. Startled by the loud report and ensuing echo, what looked like a small hawk screeched and flew out over the narrow valley. Maniacal laughter drowned out the creature’s frightened cry as the man took aim at the bird and fired again.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath.

The hawk kept flying.

Nate clenched his hands into fists. Idiot! This part of the range was a protected peregrine falcon aerie—a breeding ground for the beautiful raptors. In fact, he’d had to wait until the nesting season ended before setting up this study and getting permission to climb in the same area where the birds laid their eggs and raised their young. He breathed a sigh of relief as the bird escaped.

“Duke! What the hell are you doing?” The cowboy’s angry shout carried faintly up the cliff face.

Nate strained to hear the answer.

“You guys are taking too damned long to load the grass. I got bored.”

“If you’re so damned bored, get your ass over here and help.”

“I’ll do what I want. Now get outta my face.” Duke fired at the cliff once again, but instead of a single shot, this time a deafening stream of gunfire split the air.

As the echoes faded, Nate turned to Alex. “Definitely an automatic weapon,” he said.

A bullet pinged nearby, dislodging a small cascade of rocks and pebbles. Nate grabbed the back of Alex’s shirt and yanked, pulling her away from the edge of the cliff and out of the line of fire.

She sat up well away from the rocky edge. Her eyes shimmered with excitement and an obvious rush of adrenaline. “What are we gonna do?”

“Get the hell out of here,” Nate whispered, grabbing her arm and pulling her back once again. “There’s no cell phone coverage here at all. I wish I had the damned radio, but I left it at camp. We need to go back and call Roger.”

“But they’ll get away. Shouldn’t we stop them?”

“Us and what army? They’ve got automatic weapons and a helicopter. What do you wanna do? Hit ’em over their pointy little heads with your camera?”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Shaking his head, Nate rolled back onto his belly and inched forward along the rough volcanic surface until he could see over the ledge again. He heard Alex digging through her pack behind him, then suddenly she was there, close enough for him to feel her warmth through his shirt, so close he could breathe the air she exhaled.

Alex braced herself on her elbows and eased her camera over the rough edge of the cliff, moving carefully to avoid dislodging any loose gravel. Hands steady, she focused her largest telephoto lens on the drug smugglers below.

Nate’s respect for Alex’s skill and daring moved up another notch. She took her pictures with cool precision and steady hands, her lips pressed tightly together in a grim line.

Duke fired another volley of shots at the cliff.

Alex shot back, snapping picture after picture.

Suddenly, she pulled the camera away from her face and stared at the scene below and cursed. “Holy shit.”

“What? What’s going on?” Nate dug his binoculars out of his pack, hastened by the shock on Alex’s face. She lifted the camera back up to her eye and he realized she was using the telephoto lens as a spyglass.

“My God,” he whispered. “Where did they find those?” Through his binoculars, Nate could see Duke arranging a collection of what appeared to be brightly colored ceramic bowls along the ground near the chopper. With a sinking feeling he realized the man was going to use them as targets.

“We’ve got to stop him. Those pots could be priceless.” Alex grabbed Nate’s arm. “They might give us a clue to the Spirit Walkers. We can’t let him destroy them!”

Nate watched in stunned disbelief as the man raised the rifle to his shoulder.

“You idiot! Stop!” Shouting, the cowboy ran out from under the ledge, followed closely by the third man. “Those could be worth more than this entire load of grass. If you have to shoot something, shoot the damned cliff, but don’t break those pots.”

Cowboy and the other man carefully picked up the pots and carried them to the helicopter.

Nate breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief was short-lived. Duke fired another volley of shots at the cliff. Without warning, Alex doubled over in pain.

“What is it? Are you hit? Alex?”

She clutched her midsection, moaning in apparent agony. Her face was a chalky gray green. Nate pried her clenched fingers away from her stomach, fearing the worst.

There was no sign of blood.

The gunfire stopped. Alex blinked and sat up.

“What happened?” Nate quickly studied her eyes. Other than slightly dilated pupils they were as clear and brilliantly blue as the sea. He touched her throat. Her pulse beat a strong tattoo against his fingers, but her color had returned to normal.

She smiled at Nate while he checked her pulse, a bemused expression that transformed her face.

“He shot one of the glyphs.” The sense of awe in her voice startled Nate. “He hit one of the carvings on the cliff below us, I felt its pain.”

“Don’t do this to me, Alex.” Nate looked around the clearing, almost expecting to see strange creatures crawling out of the rocks. “You must have been hit with flying rock. Let me take a look at your belly.”

“I was lying on my belly, Nate. How could I get hit with flying rock? I’m serious. He shot one of the glyphs, and I felt it. Weird, huh?”

“More than weird. Impossible. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I want to get to the radio and call Roger. Maybe they can organize a raid before these guys take off. I don’t want to lose those pots.”

“What about the drugs?”

“Pot’s legal for a large portion of California’s population. Let the authorities worry about the drugs. Those clay pots could be more important than the glyphs. They could help us identify who left the carvings. We can’t risk losing them.”

“It’s so nice to see you concerned about my well-being.” Grinning, Alex rubbed her hand over her midsection, then began to gather her scattered equipment.

Nate laughed. She was one tough lady. “I am concerned. That’s why I want us to get our butts out of here.”

“Okay.” She paused, her expression suddenly serious. “I really did feel something, Nate. It hurt.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Maybe by then he’d have time to come up with a logical explanation. He crawled back out to the edge of the cliff to take one last look at the activity below.

Nate saw the brittle rock explode next to Alex before he heard the rifle’s sharp report. Sharp fragments spattered across the two of them as they scurried back from the edge.

“Damn it all! I think he saw me,” Nate gasped, pressing himself close to the rocky ground.

“I think I might have figured that one out for myself,” Alex answered dryly, wiping a trickle of blood off her arm and grabbing her camera bag.

The men below them shouted, but their voices were lost in the sound of a backfiring engine. Moments later, the rhythmic
thrump, thrump, thrump
echoed up the cliff as the helicopter’s blades shredded the still air.

Nate grabbed Alex’s hand and hauled her to her feet behind him. The exposed plateau offered no protection.

“The trees,” he shouted. “We have to get under the trees where they can’t spot us.”

Stumbling at first on the rough ground, Alex struggled to catch her own rhythm. She shifted her pack over her shoulder and was quickly running as fast as Nate, hand in hand with him across the open plateau. The forest loomed dark and secure only a hundred yards away.