The Maze (14 page)

Rick had been moving so fast, he realized he'd packed the two-way down in the bottom of the daypack with the mike and its cord still jacked in. Lon wasn't going to be talking with the condor, just tracking it.

Lon came running into the tent. He rummaged through the top drawer of his dresser, and his hand came out with the sheath knife. He paused only long enough to feed it onto his belt.

“What's that for?”

“The dog, if need be. Let's go!”

Halfway to Chimney Rock they heard the crack of a high-powered rifle, then its echoing report.

The man who loved the condors pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “Now he's done it…now he's done it!”

Lon drove fast into the campsite and braked hard,
stepped out in a cloud of red dust. The pit bull was growling, while Carlile was commanding it to stay at his side.

Rick couldn't see the body of the bird anywhere. It could have fallen on the other side of Chimney Rock, he realized. His eyes returned to Carlile and his partner. From the taunting, aggressive look on Gunderson's face, Rick guessed that he was the one who had done the shooting.

“Where's the bird?” Lon demanded.

Carlile cleared his throat. “Ain't seen a bird.”

“Rick,” Lon instructed, “run over there and look around the other side of the formation.”

Rick took off running. Five minutes later he was back shaking his head.

“The gunshot,” Lon demanded. “Explain the gunshot.”

“Shoulda asked in the first place,” Carlile huffed. “Is target shooting illegal all of a sudden?”

“In a national park it is.”

Nuke spit on the ground. “I'm not surprised.”

Gunderson was about to say something. Nuke cut him off with an abrupt gesture. Carlile's eyes were on the big sheath knife at the biologist's hip. “We haven't seen one of your precious vultures. Now, why don't you leave us be?”

Abruptly Lon strode back to the truck. He snatched his daypack from the seat, slung it on his back, lifted
the fiberglass kennel cage and then the big net from the back of the camper shell. “Rick,” he called, motioning with a wave of his head.

Lon put the truck keys in Rick's hand.

“Lon,” Rick protested, but the man was shaking his head.

“I'm not going down in any canyons, I promise you,” Lon said, loud enough to be overheard. “The bird will be up on the rims or ridges. She'd be afraid of flying down into those narrow canyons.”

“Lon,” Rick whispered urgently, facing the truck. “Let's stick together. I have a bad feeling.”

Lon turned his back on the two men as well. “I need you to watch camp. I don't know what to expect from these guys.”

“Exactly. Forget M1, Lon.”

“I can't,” the biologist insisted. “I'd be down to four. Every condor is too essential, you know that. I've got a fair chance of netting her if I can locate her. She'll stay up high, Rick, like I was saying; odds are she's not that far away. I need to recapture them all and pen them until it's resolved with these guys. I promise I'll be back before dark.”

“And if you're not?”

“An hour after dark, get in the truck and drive. Drive to a pay phone. Get Josh at Cliff Dweller's Lodge, Vermilion Cliffs, Arizona—number's in the glove box. He's due here tomorrow night—he'll still be there until to
morrow morning. Tell him everything you know. Tell him I need help. He'll know what to do.”

“What if those guys come into camp this afternoon?”

“Keep your daypack ready with some food and water. Don't let them get close to you. Run, hide in the Maze.”

“This is crazy. You don't even have a gun.”

“They don't want to shoot me.”

“No, they'll use the dog.”

“No, they won't. Carlile saw the knife. He doesn't want to lose that dog.”

“Don't…” Rick pleaded. “They might still be moving their stuff.”

“Then they can wait for me to clear out. I won't go anywhere near that cave you told me about. They won't feel threatened.”

Exasperation filled Lon's eyes. “Gotta go,” he said, his hand briefly to Rick's shoulder. “But I want to see you driving out of here before I take off. And don't forget to fill up when you get back to camp—we're nearly running on empty. Good luck to us both!”

 

Rick tried to pump gas from the big fuel drum on stilts. Nothing, not a drop. What could possibly be wrong? There was nothing complicated about it. It was a simple gravity feed, and he'd done it before.

He rapped his knuckles on the tank. It sounded hollow as a drum. He leaned his shoulder to the stand and
pushed with one hand. He could have tipped the drum over.

Empty. The realization made him go light-headed. When had they stolen the gas? That morning, when he and Lon were at the dunes?

His stomach went queasy. They were stranded. No possibility of calling in help, no way to escape. There could be no doubt that Carlile and Gunderson had returned for more of their contraband. And they didn't want to take the slightest chance.

Should he take the bicycle and go for help? Sixty miles, that was how far he'd have to ride. Lon had told him to wait until an hour after dark, but that was assuming he had the truck. How long would it take him to bicycle sixty miles? Forever. Out in the open like that, the Humvee would catch him and squash him like a bug. “Hide in the Maze”—that was what Lon had said.

It was excruciating, waiting for Lon's return. It was the longest day of his life. Unmindful that everything was going horribly wrong, the four condors soared back and forth above the red cliffs. The cumulus clouds boiled up tall and massive, turned dark, and began to rumble—forerunners of the hurricane moisture that was on its way. All the while Rick kept scanning the slickrock canyon rims to the east with the spotting scope. No glimpse of Lon returning. Nothing.

Every minute, every second, he listened for the Humvee. He couldn't guess what they were going to do
next, but it might involve him. They might even try to sneak up on him on foot.

Rick's daypack was stuffed full with everything he might need, including maps and a compass, and he was keeping it within arm's length. He was ready to bolt for the Maze.

It rained. It rained hard enough to drown a cat.

At first the downpour agitated him, and then it terrified him.
Lon, you better not be down in a place like I was
.

After ten minutes the rain quit.

Nothing to do but wait. It was 3:00
P.M.
, 4:00
P.M.
, 5:00
P.M.
Across the Colorado, from north to south and everywhere but above the Maze, thunderheads were spitting lightning and spilling rain that was dark and dense as a wall. He could imagine all too well the flash floods that were sluicing through thousands of canyons.

Then he heard a distant gunshot. Moments later, its echo. The sound had come from the east, from the direction of Jasper Canyon.

He knew what it meant. They'd killed him.

A second shot was followed quickly by a third, and a fourth and a fifth. Rick closed his eyes.

Then only the sound of unraveling thunder. He tried to think of a reason for hope, and he found it in the number of shots. There was virtually no cover where Lon had gone. One shot should have been enough if they were trying to kill him. Maybe they were driving
him away from their cave. But no, Lon knew not to go near the cave. Maybe they had a whole other cache of weapons, somewhere different, and Lon had gotten too close to it….

The shots could mean anything. Those men were capable of anything. His skin tingled and the hair rose on the back of his neck. If Lon was dead, they'd come for him next.

The gunshots changed everything. He couldn't wait helplessly in camp. He had to do something. It had to be something they'd never expect.

They'd never expect him to come to them. On foot he could do that. There was plenty of cover to take advantage of along the way. At their camp he would have a chance of finding out what had happened and what they'd do next.

Rick started out, keeping the Maze close on his left, the road on his right. He could be down in the Maze in a minute if he had to run for it.

He went so slowly, used his cover so carefully that dusk gathered while he was still under way. He was grateful for the twilight. He could move a little more quickly. The moon, half full, appeared to be racing through the clouds.

At last he was approaching Chimney Rock's tall silhouette. At some moments the moon was ghostly pale behind the clouds; seconds later it was shining bright and lighting up the monolith.

He could hear the two even before he saw the bright white light cast by their propane lantern. Their voices were bitter. Arguments were flying back and forth. “How could you be so stupid!” Carlile fumed.

“How was I supposed to know the guy would go off chasing the bird?”

“You shoulda never fired that shot in the first place. That's what brought him over here. Or you could have shot to kill and been done with it. But shooting at the bird just to scare it—idiotic. You just didn't
think
. The bird might fly toward our cache, the guy might follow…. It wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist, Gunderson.”

Rick stepped cautiously, approached closer, and crouched behind a juniper. Through the branches he could see them clearly. Carlile was seated on a lawn chair with his back to Rick. The dog was at his side. Gunderson was pacing back and forth with arms folded. “So, what's the big problem?” Gunderson exploded.

“The problem is, because of you, we haven't been able to do what we came here for. We just wasted the whole afternoon following that bird guy while he blundered closer and closer to our second cache.”

I was right, Rick realized. They do have a second hiding place, more weapons.

“You're the one who started shooting at him, Nuke. Quit tryin' to blame it all on me.”

“I had to scare him away from the cave—he was looking right at our stuff.”

“You don't know he saw anything. He had his binoculars on the
bird
, not on the cave. The bird was on the rim. Why would he have been focusing on the cave, through the brush and all, when the bird was in plain sight on the rim?”

“Okay, maybe he wasn't looking at the cave. I just don't like it. Too much slop. That's the way it is with you, Gunderson. All slop and no discipline.”

“Hey, I told you we shouldn't put both caches in the same canyon. That was your bright idea, putting everything in Jasper. Look, Nuke, where that guy is stuck—”

“You don't
know
he's stuck, you just
think
he's stuck. He might be out of there already.”

Lon's alive
, Rick realized.

“What are the chances?” Gunderson thundered. “Look, he's trapped below one of those ledges down in that side canyon. You saw where he jumped when you fired those shots. He can't get back up, so the only way he can go is down, and he won't get far that way. That big storm is supposed to be here tomorrow, and when that hits, he's gonna be history.”

Carlile was furious. “You idiot. You still don't get it. The whole place is going to be crawling with search and rescue.”

“So? What are the chances, out of all that country
out there, they'd look in that one cave? They'll find a dead body down in the canyon, call off this vulture project, and we come back later and get our stuff. No problem.”

“And what about the kid? We don't know for sure that he didn't see something last week.”

“Ninety-nine out of a hundred, he didn't.”

“That's not good enough.”

Rick went from his crouch down onto one knee, to ease his back. The dog must have heard something. The pit bull growled, lifted its ears.

“Shut up, Jasper!” Carlile rasped, and gave the dog a kick.

“What do you want to do now, Nuke?”

“We don't have much choice. With this storm coming, we clear out of here in the morning. Empty-handed, thanks to you. We could have had everything out of here, neat and tidy, been done with it. Now everything's slop, all slop.”

Rick backed away and started for camp. He was hoping against hope that Lon would be waiting there when he got back.

Lon wasn't there. He must be trapped, just like Gunderson said.

Rick was afraid to sleep in his tent; Carlile might come for him. He took a sleeping bag into a cleft in the rocks nearby, where he could keep an eye out. The moon set, and the stars shone only intermittently, but
even in the near darkness he could have made out a silhouette moving in camp. If only it would be Lon. He saw no one. Lightning lit the horizon like monumental strobe lights.

He followed the weather reports from Salt Lake City on the AM-FM. The station was predicting heavy weather for the coming afternoon, with flash flood watches likely to be upgraded to flash flood warnings. “Pandora is no longer a hurricane, but she's packing a tremendous wallop tonight in parts of Arizona and New Mexico,” the forecaster said. “The eastern half of southern Utah and the western half of southern Colorado are in for a pounding.”

An idea like a flickering candle of hope kept appearing in the back of Rick's mind. Every time he extinguished it, it returned. It was too far-fetched, too impossible to be considered.

Or was it?

He couldn't search on the ground, he knew that. Jasper had dozens of side canyons on each side, and it was ten miles long. Trapped in one of those narrow slots, Lon would be impossible to spot from the rim.

His idea burned brighter and brighter, yet he was scared to death of it. He was afraid he was getting crazy from fear, crazy from desperation. Still he knew, he
knew
there was a way to get to Lon if he had the courage.