The stories he’d promised to tell, whilst turning out to be the center of militia attention, betrayed the pain he still felt for the loss of his brothers. There was the story of Whipper and how she came by her name; Dirty Sarah and the way she could fight. Then came older stories of men now dead—Tiny, Donkster and Lomas.
Alicia moved in closer as Lex spoke of Lomas, the leader of the Slayers and Alicia’s last beau. He had died in her arms. The pain she’d experienced at his death surpassed all the hurt she’d ever felt in her life. There was no recovery; no going back.
Only the road ahead.
Lex spoke warmly of the gang leader, telling a bevy of stories. The night grew long and the music vibrated into lighter tunes. The beer flowed endlessly and the laughter rarely stopped. But Alicia never let her guard down and neither did the militia men. Pitts was always present, cradling his rifle, and several of his cohorts watched from afar, perched atop jeeps or standing among shadows as if waiting for something to happen. When Alicia put on an impromptu dancing display, wriggling and cavorting, she turned at the end to find Pitts’ eyes on her, evaluating and watchful and totally unmoved.
Lex pulled her back to the trashcans. “Time to hit the sack.”
Wrench and Red Head backed him up, enquiring as to a place to sleep. The latter had been talking to one of the militia women present. With tied back flaming red hair she was a prime candidate for Red Head’s affections, but to his credit he quickly backed the team.
“Sleep by your bikes,” Pitts told them. “Won’t rain around here tonight.”
Lex balked for a moment, unsure how to respond to the potential insult. Alicia laid a furtive hand on his arm.
“Sure, sure,” he blustered. “Don’t matter to me.”
The men began to drift away. Pretty soon there was only a hard core left; hard-eyed individuals that rarely let their weapons leave their hands even when drinking. Alicia wondered about the dangers of such an individual having to take a leak. Feeling buoyant now that they’d gained Crouch and the rest of the team so much valuable time to search, she was about to ask the question when Pitts sidled up close to her.
“Something ain’t right about you, missy,” he said softly. “Those guys they’re blinded and guided by what’s between their legs. And yours. But me and the senior ranks over there” —he nodded toward the jeep and the men courting the darker shadows— “we see past all that.”
“Past that?” Alicia affected a high-pitched tone. “To my ass? It’s great isn’t it?”
Pitts shrugged, slightly tongue-tangled. “All night,” he said. “We’ll be watching.”
Hefting his rifle he purposely swung the barrel so that it crossed paths with all four bikers before ambling away, then glanced back over his shoulder, eyes never straying far. The men of the senior ranks drifted a little closer now, saying nothing.
“So,” Alicia said brightly. “Who’s sleeping tonight?”
*
Excitement coursed through the team as they climbed the sharp incline alongside the burbling stream. Full darkness had long since fallen, turning the landscape to a light green discernible only through night vision goggles. The hard ground had been worn smooth, making it difficult to find any purchase, so much so that Crouch found himself crawling before too long, breathing loud in his own ears. The stream cut back and forth across the rock, meandering down its own path and vanishing into nowhere.
At last they crested the rise. A flat piece of rock extended in all directions, leading to even higher ground several hundred feet away.
“The mouth of the river,” Crouch said expectantly, “is the pictogram that signifies the final landmark. We’re here.”
“It’s not much of a river and that’s definitely not a mouth,” Russo pointed out. “More like a leaky plughole.”
“Man’s got a point.” Caitlyn crouched down and peered hard into the small square of darkness from which the water spouted. “Pass me that flashlight.”
Healey was already beside her, handing the powerful flashlight over. Caitlyn angled it into the hole, remembering to remove her night vision goggles first. “Just a hollow clogged with pebbles and dust and dirt. If there is anything under there it’s well buried beneath tons of rock that we sure can’t dig through.”
Crouch joined her. “I can’t understand it. They surely had to hide a part of the treasure here. Otherwise why all the clues and markers? We were purposely led to this point—for what?”
Cruz was also on his knees. “I doubt a dog could fit through that hole let alone a man.”
Crouch tapped the rock with his own flashlight. “What are we missing?”
“If you guys are done looking, turn those bloody flashlights off,” Russo murmured. “We’re lit up like a Jean Michel Jarre concert.”
Caitlyn frowned in confusion but switched her light off. Crouch did the same. “The mouth of the river,” he said, shining a penlight over his notes. “If it’s not here then . . .”
Caitlyn sat back on a rocky outcrop, scanning the area. The only noticeable cavern was the astonishing black expanse above them, speckled with stars, a great dusky frame for the moon. The isolation of the area struck her as much as anything. A life could be lost out here and only the vast remoteness would ever know who’d passed.
Cruz moved over to Crouch, studying the notes. Russo and Healey moved a little higher and replaced their goggles, giving the area a once over. After a minute Russo clicked his comms and reported that all was clear.
Caitlyn sighed. “I guess most of the time these treasure hunts will end in failure. And even if there once was something here—five hundred years is a long time.”
Crouch shook his head. “Look around you. This land does not change. Five hundred years is but the blink of an eye to the monuments of Utah.”
“What surprises me is that there’s a stream out here at all,” Cruz said. “I wonder where it comes from.”
Crouch turned to stare at him. “What?”
“I said, what surprises me is—”
“No. Not that. You said ‘I wonder where it comes from’. Is it possible that—” he tailed off, again revisiting his notes.
Caitlyn felt her excitement rise. “What is it?”
Crouch traced the words with his finger. “Mouth of the river,” he repeated. “Could it be a mis-translation? Could it really be—source of the river?”
Russo and Healey returned, picking up on the sudden buzz.
Cruz nodded. “I believe it’s a common problem. But the actual source could be anywhere, right?” He gestured up at the mouth. “Underground rivers, lakes. Some hidden tributary of the Colorado. It passes by less than ten kilometers from here.”
Russo snorted. “But at a lower level, genius.”
Cruz made a slight smile. “It is not uncommon to find springs at the top of a mountain where rivers run below. The pressure of the weight of the earth on subterranean water deposits can force water up through fissures and cracks to produce elevated springs.”
Caitlyn looked up. Her eyes caught the crowd of rocks situated a few hundred feet above them, the highest ground in the area. “I see only one possible source to this stream,” she said, pointing. “And it’s there.”
Crouch jumped up. The team raced up the sharp slope, struggling for a good foothold on the smooth rock but determined to beat the terrain. Crouch hauled Cruz along and Healey dropped back to give Caitlyn a hand, but the black-haired girl waved him away. So far Healey’s training had consisted of hand-to-hand combat and incapacitating strikes, but this wasn’t a trained killer she was facing—it was an exertion of effort against the mountain and she was damn well going to prevail on her own.
Healey smiled and left her to it. Caitlyn thought about the girl she’d been before she joined Crouch’s unit not so long ago—would she have denied an offer of help from a trained military solider?
Not a chance.
With more than one last huge surge of effort Caitlyn made it up to the strange array of ro
cks. The guys were waiting for her. “Thanks,” she panted. “No hiker in their right mind would ever try that. Now what have we got?”
Before her, several rough, surfboard-shaped boulders appeared to be growing up from the ground, pointing at the skies. Almost fan shaped, the arrangement struck Caitlyn as odd but at the same time familiar. It was Crouch’s statement that made her remember.
“A natural occurrence,” Crouch said. “In the shape of a feathered headdress?”
Cruz pursed his lips. “You’re reaching.”
“Maybe. But a wandering Aztec warrior might take this as a sign. C’mon.”
They squeezed among the boulders, searching the surface of the rocks and around the sides. The rock was thick and solid, but the formation was also quite dense, offering a chance to slip and squeeze among the standing stones and venture into their inner core.
“I can hear water,” Cruz said, for the first time looking eager. “Hurry!”
Caitlyn followed Cruz and Crouch, sliding between the smooth rocks, using their tapered bases to keep her balance, resting on the arch where more than one came together. Everyone became stuck more than once and, though she helped push Crouch to force him through every narrowing gap, it was still undignified to have Healey shoving her from behind. Within minutes the team were sweating and panting. Crouch called for a rest.
“Never,” he said. “Never did I expect to find myself temporarily defeated by a bunch of bloody rocks.”
Cruz, who had been checking every surface as they toiled through, spoke up. “Not a single marking,” he said a little dejectedly. “I hope this is worth the effort.”
“More importantly,” Caitlyn said, looking around. “I hope we can get out.”
Crouch waved him on. The team restarted. Caitlyn tried something new, finding it easier to slither around each rock, keeping her entire body in contact with the surface rather than stepping and climbing and pretty soon everyone except Russo was copying her. The big man was having the most trouble, getting wedged where they slipped through and having nobody to give him a boost. Still, he battled on.
Caitlyn, lost now among the tall stones, kept her eyes peeled ahead, the stars and moon an intermittent lightshow above. Her gaze was fixed on Cruz’s back when the man suddenly vanished. A high-pitched squeal followed him down. Crouch leaped forward, bracing himself between the pillars and staring past his own feet.
Crouch shouted, “You okay?”
A half-strangled voice floated out of nowhere. “I have no idea.”
Crouch turned around. “Cruz fell about ten feet. There’s a spring down there, guys. At the very heart of this little gaggle of rocks.” Their boss slipped and slid out of sight.
Caitlyn moved into position, seeing for the first time what Cruz had clearly overlooked. A small natural break in the rock formation lay ahead and below, its bottom mostly consisting of a burbling spring. What Caitlyn saw immediately was the run-off to where the spring naturally fell away.
The dark hole was easily the size of a man.
Cruz was already at the entrance, peering within. Crouch was trying not to elbow him out of the way. Caitlyn grabbed a handhold and let herself down the side of a rock, scrambling blindly for a foothold. After a moment of effort Healey’s voice, closer than she would have thought, said, “Just jump. The fall is five feet.”
Without acknowledging him, Caitlyn let go, landing on her feet and then her knees. A jolt of pain flashed through her limbs but nothing nearly enough to prevent her from rushing over to the bubbling spring.
“A bit of a Eureka! moment.” She fought away a fleeting image of the horrible events that had recently microwaved her mind and jumped into the action. “Let me see!”
Cruz waved his flashlight at the hole. “Down there,” he said. “The spring travels to the right but I swear I can see another tunnel branching to the left. Now, with this rock being situated so high there’s got to be room for a cave down there, possibly eroded thousands or millions of years ago before the stream diverted its course.” He grinned self-consciously. “That’s the hope I’m clinging to anyway.”
Once Healey and Russo had joined them the team set about wriggling down the narrow tunnel. The going was wet and slippery, the rock unforgiving. When Russo became stuck it took all of Healey’s strength to pull him free.
“Christ, you’re going to have to cut down on the burgers, mate.”
“Every ounce pure muscle,” Russo returned. “It’s what separates the men from the boys.”
“Muscle? I thought it was brains and chivalry.”
“Yeah, and that’s why you’re a twenty-three-year-old virgin.”
Healey choked. Caitlyn managed a smile even as she crawled, soaked, into the all-enveloping darkness. They followed the tunnel Cruz had spotted, lights shining ahead. The rocky ceiling sloped down and down, away from the direction of the stream. The external surfaces were slick, making the going easier. Cruz crawled ahead for some time before slowing considerably.
“Okay, I have total darkness.”
Crouch peered past him. “Oh yeah, that’s darkness all right. I believe it means we have a large void ahead.”
Caitlyn had no idea what it meant. She said as much.
Healey laughed. “Just ask yourself—what would Lara do?”
“Lara?”
“Lara Croft. Tomb Raider.”
“I don’t play video games, Zack. Maybe you could ask yourself that same question and go from there.”
They crept forward. Crouch pointed out that this all-consuming darkness could be part of a vast cave, a deep recess or even a sudden drop-off. Their powerful flashlights picked out the ground a few feet ahead and no more. Presently the whole team could stand five abreast and join their beams to help penetrate the darkness. Crouch broke out the glowsticks and threw a few into the air.
The way ahead gradually became clear.
They were standing at the entrance to a cave. The entire place was a vault of rock, and completely empty. The floor stretched away two dozen feet toward another tunnel on the far side.
“Bit of a let-down,” Caitlyn voiced the feelings of the group.
Then Cruz squealed again. Caitlyn flicked her gaze at him, worried he might have fallen, but changed her mind when she saw him loping off to the right. His flashlight illuminated a large part of the cave wall.
“Aztec art,” he said, his tone charged with exhilaration. “These are drawings of warriors, maybe the very warriors that guarded the caravan!”
Caitlyn peered at the crude depictions. Many showed men clad in a kind of uniform, reminiscent of an animal. They all carried shields and clubs and what appeared to be a kind of machete-like weapon.
Cruz continued. “See their helmets? That signifies the warrior group to which they belonged. Eagle. Lion. And so forth. The one with the Jaguar head and skin is a Jaguar Knight. All carry a weapon called a Maquahuitl, basically an Aztec sword. It’s short and made of oak, and has volcanic stone embedded into the edges.”
“Looks a little basic for what we know about the Aztecs,” Caitlyn said.
“Don’t underestimate them. The Spanish said one of these could chop off the head of a horse in a single blow.”
“Why wear a uniform?”
“The more elaborate the uniform the higher the rank,” Cruz said. “But this is proof that they were here. My god, this is proof.”
“These aren’t the only Aztec drawings to be found in North America,” Caitlyn reminded him.
“And where’s the treasure?” Russo asked. “Can’t have just upped and strolled out.”
Crouch headed for the far tunnel. “Let’s see. Hey, that’s not a tunnel, it’s a room. Oh—”
His flashlight beam suddenly seemed to irradiate, light being reflected back from a solid surface. The further he walked the more the illumination increased. It was a phenomenon that creased Caitlyn’s brow in confusion.
Until Crouch fell to his knees and three staggering words fell from his lips.
>
“This is . . . fantastic!”
NINETEEN
Alicia heard the commotion begin sometime after midnight. The four bikers had gathered their motorcycles in a front-facing half circle and lay with their backs to a solid brick wall. Feigning sleep for over an hour now, and lying with her head positioned so she could see under the bikes, Alicia was relieved when the militia began to show their true colors. It put an end to all the dicking around.
She nudged the others with her foot but they were already preparing. As Pitts approached she eased a concealed blade from the small of her back to the side.
“Did you know about this? Is this you?”
Alicia rose into a melee. Pitts strode into their makeshift refuge, face and neck an unsightly shade of fire-truck red. The rifle he carried swayed carefully between them.
A swarm of angry militia men backed him up. Alicia quickly counted over thirty eager guns, at least half of them being brandished under the heavy influence of alcohol.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You!” Pitts ignored her and spat his words straight at Lex. “Is this you?”
Lex shrugged. “Is what me?”
Alicia moved to within striking distance. Pitts didn’t notice. He fired a shot between Lex’s feet that kicked up a swirl of dirt. Alicia would have pounced then, but knew to do so now was suicide. They had to find a way to thin the herd.
“Lights were seen out by the old stream. We have trespassers.”
Lex spread his arms. “It’s just us, man.”
Pitts waved his rifle. “Cover them.”
His men spread out to all sides, weapons raised and well apart. Alicia had just seen her problem grow existentially.
“You’re coming with us,” Pitts growled.
“With you?” Alicia repeated. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Gonna smoke us some intruders,” Pitts said. “Bastards are about to wish they’d never been born.”
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