by Elise Broach
They could hear his body bumping and thumping against the hard earth.
CHAPTER 3
THE HIDDEN CANYON
HENRY AND SIMON quickly climbed over the boulder and slid down the other side, grabbing at branches so they wouldn’t fall. The ground pitched sharply into a narrow canyon, well hidden from view by the rocks and brush.
“Jack?” Henry called.
They stared into the ravine. Its rock walls were steep and reddish brown in the fading sun, with stunted shrubs growing here and there. The ground was sixty or seventy feet below, a thin strip of pebbles broken by gray-green bushes and small trees. It looked as if there’d been a stream down there once, but now it was only a dry, stony path. The wind whistled forlornly through the narrow chute.
“Jack!” Simon bellowed, his voice echoing off the canyon walls.
Finally, Jack’s voice drifted up to them. “I’m down here!”
Henry could see sunlight flashing off Jack’s sandy brown hair several yards below. He was huddled on a ledge.
“Don’t move!” Henry yelled. “You look like you’re … precarious.”
“No, I’m not!” Jack yelled back. “But I might fall.”
“That’s what it means,” Henry answered.
“Oh,” Jack said. “Say it normal. And I’d better not fall, or I’ll be all broken up in pieces. It’s a long way to the bottom.”
“Hold on, we’re coming.” Simon began scooting down the canyon wall. “Are you okay?”
Henry gingerly followed, gripping one tree branch, then another, to keep from slipping.
“I think so,” Jack mumbled. “But hurry up!”
A minute later, they were together on the ledge—a slab of rock, jutting into the air high above the canyon floor. When he peered over the side, Henry felt sick to his stomach.
Jack, meanwhile, was covered in dirt, with bits of twigs and grass strewn through his hair. “Owwww!” he moaned. “That hurt.”
“Yeah, well, serves you right for trying to knock me off,” Simon complained.
“Simon,” Henry warned, seeing the look on Jack’s face. That was the thing about Jack; he could go from fine to furious in less time than it took to call him a baby. He was kind of like Josie that way.
“We should head back,” Henry said quickly. “It’ll be dark soon.” He glanced at the sky. If the sun went down, they wouldn’t even be able to see the sticks that were meant to guide them home.
Then something caught his eye. A few feet away, on the edge of rock hanging over the canyon, there were three round, white objects, like very big softballs, plunked in a row.
“What are those?” he asked, leaning forward on his knees.
Simon stood up slowly, pressing one hand against the rock wall. “Yeah, what are those?”
Jack crawled over and picked one up.
“It looks like a—” he began, turning it over.
They all gasped.
It was a skull.
A human skull.
CHAPTER 4
WHICH WAY?
THE SKULL WAS BLEACHED from the sun, with yawning eye sockets and a single crowded row of teeth. Henry froze. Jack was so startled he almost dropped it. Wide-eyed, he set it gently on the ground, where it grinned fiercely back at them.
Henry had seen the skulls their mother drew for medical textbooks and journals—pale shadowy orbs with vacant eye holes and grim, toothy smiles. But somehow seeing one for real was different.
“What’s that doing here?” Henry’s voice quaked.
“I don’t know,” Simon said. “But look … there are three of them.” He walked carefully to the edge of the rocky outcropping and lifted another of the skulls, turning it over in his hands. “Mom would love this,” he said softly.
Henry could tell Simon was trying to act like he wasn’t scared, which somehow made him feel worse. Gently, he picked up the third skull. It was heavier than he expected, with thick wavy lines crossing the top.
“It looks like it was glued together,” he whispered.
“They’re all that way,” Simon said, tracing a finger over one of the seams. “Those lines are where the skull comes together after your brain grows to full size.”
How did Simon know this stuff? Simon saw Henry’s look and shrugged. “Mom told me.”
“What’s this, then?” Henry asked, rubbing his finger over a shallow depression in the bone. It looked like a dent in a Ping-Pong ball.
“Huh.” Simon set down the skull he was holding and took Henry’s. “That’s interesting. The others don’t have that.”
“It’s bashed in,” Jack announced. “Like this—wham!” He walloped Henry’s arm.
“Ow!” Henry gasped. “Cut it out, Jack.” He touched the curve of the indentation. “It’s so smooth,” he said.
“I think we should put them back,” Simon said suddenly. He squatted at the edge of the rocky ledge, arranging the three skulls exactly where the boys had found them. Then he stood, brushed his hands on his pants, and squinted at the wall of the canyon. “Let’s go. It’ll be dark soon.”
Henry stood where he was, mesmerized by the skulls. “It’s like they’re looking at something in the canyon,” he whispered. “All lined up like that.” The skulls were poised on the lip of rock, facing out over the void.
“Do you think…” Jack swallowed. “Do you think a mountain lion killed them?”
“And what? Put their heads in a row like this? Come on, Jack,” Simon scoffed.
Jack glowered at him. “Well, how’d they die? Something killed them.”
Henry felt a chill of foreboding. “And there are three of them,” he said slowly. “Like the three of us.”
“Henry.” Simon shot him a warning glance. “You’re freaking out Jack.”
But Henry couldn’t help it. Here they were, in this lonely, secret place, with the heads of three dead people. He thought of how he’d yelled good-bye to his mom hours earlier, when they ran after Josie. She was illustrating a book on sports injuries, and he could picture her bent over her drafting table, gently sketching the contours of a shoulder or elbow. He wished he’d gone inside and hugged her.
“What if they got stuck and DIED here?” Jack said. “What if we can’t get out?”
“That’s dumb,” Simon said impatiently. “We got into the canyon, didn’t we?”
Jack frowned at him, but Henry could see his mouth quivering, as if he might cry.
Simon saw it too; he relented. “Look, Jack.” He brushed dust off the ridges of one skull. “It’s pretty clean. And white, from the sun. So you can tell it’s been here a long time. This is somebody who died years ago.”
“Three people,” Henry whispered.
“Yeah,” Simon said.
“Should we—” Henry stopped. “Do you think we should take them back with us?”
“And do what? Show Mom and Dad?” Simon wiped his hands on his pants. “We aren’t even allowed to be up here.”
“Yeah.” Jack’s eyes widened. “We’ll get in trouble. And they won’t let us near this place ever again.”
Henry wasn’t so sure he wanted to go near this place ever again. But Josie was here—somewhere—and what if she couldn’t find her way home? They would have to come back to look for her. Henry bit his lip. “But we shouldn’t just leave them, should we?”
Simon thought for a minute. “I bet they’ve been here for years and years, Hen. A while longer won’t make any difference.” He wedged his foot into the rock and started to haul himself back up the slope. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Jack waffled. “What about Josie?”
Henry pulled Jack to his feet. “We won’t be able to find her in the dark anyway. And Mom will worry if we aren’t back by dinner.” He watched Simon’s red shirt moving up the side of the ravine. “Josie will be okay for one night,” he decided. “She was gone overnight lots of times at the old house, remember?”
“Yeah,” Jack said doubtfully, “but there were no mountain lions in Il
linois.”
Henry boosted Jack onto the rocky slope above the ledge. They followed Simon, crawling on their knees, grabbing at rocks and shrubs. Henry glanced back, once, at the three white skulls staring out over the gorge. Who did they belong to? How had they gotten there?
The wind made its mournful sound, sweeping through the canyon as the boys clambered back onto the trail.
“Hurry,” Simon said. “It’s almost dark.”
Henry ran after Simon, urging Jack to keep up.
“Do you think there are more mountain lions in the day or at night?” Jack asked.
“It’s the same, probably,” Simon said. “But I think you have to worry about rattlesnakes more during the day, when it’s warm.”
At least that was something, thought Henry.
The trail forked up ahead. Simon paused. “It’s this way, right?” he asked Henry.
“Where are the sticks?” Henry peered down each twisting, narrow path. It was hard to even call them paths.
“This way,” Simon decided, scanning the darkening sky.
They started running again, stumbling over the rough ground, the big brown rocks crowding around them. Henry could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Shouldn’t they be near the bottom by now? The mountain seemed to have no end. And the feeling was there, still—not just of being watched … almost of being chased.
They ran faster. Jack fell twice, but he scrambled back to his feet without stopping.
“I don’t think this is right,” Henry said to Simon. “I don’t remember it.”
“We’re going downhill, so it must be right,” Simon answered. But he stopped, scanning the trail behind them, and the boys huddled together, breathing loudly.
“There shouldn’t be trees here,” Henry said. “Most of the way up, it was all rocks and bushes, remember?”
The sun was almost gone now. The color of the sky had changed to lavender. Henry heard a strange creaking sound.
“What’s that?” he whispered.
But before anyone could answer, the creaking grew louder and there was a sharp crack, like a gunshot. Henry jumped and Simon yelled, “Look out!”
CHAPTER 5
“STAY OFF THE MOUNTAIN!”
HENRY FELT HIMSELF HIT the ground, with Simon on top of him, and he couldn’t understand what was happening. When he opened his eyes, he was lying in the dirt on the trail. Simon leaned over him.
“Henry?”
Henry sat up slowly. Ahead of them, blocking the trail, was a large tree branch. It had crashed down only a few feet away.
“It must have been the wind,” Simon said, squinting up at the tree.
“It almost smushed you!” Jack cried.
“Come on.” Simon pulled Henry to his feet. “Climb over it. We’ve got to keep going.” Henry shuddered, crawling over the branch after his brothers, his knees scraping the rough bark.
They began to run again.
Henry could almost feel the mountain grabbing at them and sense its disappointment that they were getting away.
Finally, they saw a stick, upright in the dirt. They’d gotten off their trail somehow, but here they were back on it. Simon’s face relaxed. “We’re almost there! Look!”
And sure enough, past the barren foothills, Henry could see the twinkling lights of the houses in their neighborhood. He glanced nervously back at the mountain.
“Poor Josie,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Simon said. “But she’ll be okay. She always is.”
The boys ran the rest of the way, over the empty fields, past the tall cactuses standing watch at the edge of their yard. As they tromped onto the deck, Henry skidded to a halt. In the bright kitchen, he could see Mr. and Mrs. Barker, sober-faced, talking to a policeman. They hadn’t even reached the door when Mr. Barker yanked it open, his face awash in relief. “Where were you boys?” he demanded, pulling them inside.
Simon shot Henry a warning glance, which Henry instantly understood. They couldn’t say anything about where they’d been. Their parents were clearly freaked out already. But what was going on? They’d been late for dinner lots of times in Illinois, and nobody had ever called the police.
Mrs. Barker clasped Jack against her waist. “Oh, I was so worried! Henry, I told you not to go far. What happened?”
The policeman, a heavy man in a navy-blue uniform, leaned on the kitchen counter waiting for their answer. He didn’t look unfriendly, exactly, Henry decided. But his hands were as big as baseball mitts.
“We…” Henry took a deep breath. “We were just trying to catch Josie. She ran out of the yard, and we followed her. But … but we couldn’t find her.”
Mr. Barker folded his arms, looking from Henry to Simon. “Did you boys go up the mountain?” he asked evenly, sounding merely curious. That was a trap, Henry knew. If they said yes, the whole kitchen would explode.
Jack said, “Well, Josie—”
Henry shook his head quickly. Jack was easily fooled. Simon interjected, “Josie ran through the bushes out back, so we followed her. Not up the mountain, just into those little hills. We got lost and couldn’t find our way back.”
Henry nodded vigorously. “As soon as we saw the lights, we came straight home. Directly.”
Now it was Mr. and Mrs. Barker’s turn to exchange glances. “You didn’t go up that mountain?” Mr. Barker asked again, looking at Jack.
“Nope,” Jack insisted. “But we think Josie did! And there are mountain lions, aren’t there, Mom? Isn’t that what you said? And rattlesnakes too!” His eyes widened. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Mrs. Barker ran her fingers through Jack’s hair, picking out bits of leaves and dirt. “What’s all this?” she asked, crouching down to look at him. “Jack, did you fall?” Behind her glasses, her worried brown eyes made Henry cringe.
But Jack brushed her off. “I just tripped,” he said stoutly. “What about Josie?”
“Listen to me, boys.” The policeman straightened and crossed the kitchen floor in two strides. Henry saw that he had a bright silver badge and a leather holster that bulged with a gun, just like a real policeman.
“You scared your mom and dad, you know that?” He loomed over them.
Simon and Henry nodded. Jack asked, “Is that a real gun?”
“It certainly is,” the policeman said. “And I’ll tell you what else: I’ve had to use it. Up on Superstition Mountain.”
The boys looked at each other. “You have?” Henry asked faintly.
“Yes, I have.” He paused, and exchanged a long look with Henry’s parents. It occurred to Henry that a whole separate conversation was going on between the grown-ups—one without any words. The policeman bent down now, hands on his knees, his broad, stern face inches from Henry’s. “You don’t want to be going up there. It’s not safe. Understand?”
Henry gulped. He tried not to stare at the dark pores that speckled the man’s nose.
“What did you shoot at?” Jack asked. “A mountain lion?”
“That’s not important,” the policeman said. “What’s important is that you boys STAY OFF THE MOUNTAIN!”
He said this last part so forcefully that Henry backed up against his mother. Even Simon looked shaken.
“We will, okay?” Simon said. “We just went looking for Josie. We didn’t go up any mountain.” He turned on Mr. Barker accusingly. “Don’t you trust us?”
Henry was a little awed by this show of boldness, which made their parents’ suspicions seem petty and unfair.
Mr. Barker frowned. “Yes, of course we do. But I know how you guys feel about that cat.”
“How we all feel about that cat,” Mrs. Barker corrected him, continuing to run her fingers through Jack’s hair, dislodging the remnants of the gulch. “I’m sure Josie will find her way back,” she said soothingly. “She’s got more brains than half the people I know. She’ll get hungry and be home before bedtime.”
Henry sighed. He fervently hoped his mother was right. But she hadn’t b
een up the mountain. She didn’t know the way the place could hold on to you.
“Thanks for coming out, Officer Myers,” Mr. Barker said, ushering the policeman into the entryway, with Jack trotting along, clamoring to see the squad car. Henry followed.
“Oh, it’s no trouble,” the policeman said, his gaze darting past Henry into the living room and hallway. “I was curious to see what you’d done to old Hank’s place. I haven’t been out here in years. Left you some of his things, did he?”
“Too many of his things, if you ask my wife,” Mr. Barker said ruefully. “Most of them are in the basement. Did you know my uncle?”
Henry leaned in eagerly.
“Not personally,” Officer Myers amended. “But everybody knew him. He was quite a character. Lots of stories about ol’ Hank Cormody.”
“Like what?” Henry asked.
The policeman laughed. “Well, I’m not sure many of them can be repeated in this company.”
Henry suspected that meant something about women, because Uncle Hank was known to have had a number of girlfriends, more than one at the same time. (“Your Uncle Hank was a player,” Mrs. Barker told Henry once, in a disapproving voice, and it was clear she didn’t mean playing sports or board games or music, things you would ordinarily be proud of.)
“Aren’t there any stories you could tell us?” Henry asked, hoping for a quiet kind of story that would make him feel like he and Uncle Hank had something in common.
Officer Myers thought for a minute. “Well, there was that time he pinned a rattlesnake with a screwdriver.”
Henry’s eyes widened.
“Really?” Simon interrupted. “How’d he do that?”
The policeman scratched his head. “As I heard it, he’d been working on the house”—he gestured past the front door—“fixing the siding or something out front, and he must have disturbed a rattler in the bushes. When it pulled back to strike, he hurled his screwdriver right at it and pinned its neck to the ground—bam!” The policeman smacked the side of his hand against his open palm.
“Cool!” Simon said, and Jack blurted out, “Wow!”
Henry said nothing, thinking that he was not sure he would even recognize a rattlesnake, and he certainly would not be able to pin it to the ground with a screwdriver.