by Will Hobbs
How had the judge in Arizona responded to everything Lon had proposed? Was Lon right when he thought that the judge had really listened to him?
There was supposed to be a letter from the group home in Arizona in the file too. It was supposed to have come this afternoon. What were the chances it was there?
Quit thinking like that, Rick told himself.
He told himself to think well of the judge. There must be a way.
Now he could see it. It was in the way the man’s head, thin and bald and red, rose from the voluminous black robe. The judge reminded him of a condor.
“Unusual,” the judge said at last. “I believe that’s where we left off. The request, as I understand it, is to suspend the six weeks remaining of this young man’s sentence and not to add any additional time.”
His social worker stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“You may sit down, Ms. Baker. I would like to address young Mr. Walker here.”
This is it, Rick thought. He doesn’t even remember me, so many people come through here.
The judge’s eyes went to Rick’s cast. “You’ve broken your arm,” Samuel L. Bendix began almost conversationally.
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you break it? The short version, please. Very short.”
The short version? Rick wondered. This was just like before—everything this judge said just threw him off-balance. “In…sort of a fall,” he answered. Lon had told him to leave out about the flying unless he couldn’t avoid it.
Rick knew he sounded nervous. He wanted to glance to Lon, for instructions or at least reassurance, but he knew the judge would hold that against him. With a grimace he realized that he’d just made a mistake. From what he’d said, the judge was assuming he’d broken his arm going over the fence at Blue Canyon.
“Who is Rick Walker?” the judge asked suddenly. Rick was off-balance again. The judge didn’t remember having asked him this the first time, or did he?
It felt like there was a huge weight on him, forcing him down in the hard bench seat, as if he were being crushed. He couldn’t find the words sitting down. “Can I stand up?” he asked, almost desperately. At least he was buying some time.
“You may,” the judge said, seemingly amused.
As Rick stood, he was still swimming in confusion. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. This was exactly how he’d felt six months before.
But that wasn’t him, not anymore. If he could only stay calm, dig deep, he could explain the difference.
He knew the difference. Just say it, he told himself.
“Since my grandmother died,” he began, “four years ago, I’ve been like a rat in a maze.”
“Not a pretty image,” the judge remarked, “but descriptive.”
“Yes, sir. I was only trying to survive, and I kept running into dead ends. But I don’t feel like that anymore, thanks to this man.”
Rick glanced briefly to his right, caught a glimpse of the scar, looked back to the judge.
“I’m out of that maze now, sir. I’m free to make something of myself.”
“If you were to be returned to detention, wouldn’t you be back in the maze again?”
“Not in my mind.”
“An excellent response,” the judge said, his eyes sweeping approvingly across the courtroom. “A most excellent response. The court is aware that you were, through no merit of your own, in the position to make a certain discovery in regards to a cache or caches of illegal weaponry, ammunition, bombs, and so on, inside Canyonlands National Park during the time you were evading pursuit.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Rick said quietly.
“The court is curious if you believe that cooperating with the U.S. attorney’s investigation in this affair should influence the judgment of this court today?”
Rick had hoped that it would, but Lon had warned him it wouldn’t. “No, Your Honor,” he responded.
“You are correct in that assumption. Nevertheless, this court is grateful that you were instrumental in the apprehension of two suspects in a very serious case that could have proved extremely costly to human life.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You may sit down, Mr. Walker.”
Janice Baker cleared her throat. “Would it please Your Honor to hear from Mr. Peregrino and Mr. Bramwell?”
“Considering the hour, that won’t be necessary. The court is impressed that Mr. Walker has acquired advocates such as these. As displeased as the court must remain in regards to young Mr. Walker’s solution to his dilemma at the Blue Canyon center, the court recognizes that corruption of the sort he may have witnessed there is hardly unprecedented. Charges have recently been filed against five Blue Canyon employees in an unrelated situation. Mr. Bramwell, who has resigned his position there within the last week, has agreed to serve as one of the state’s witnesses in that case.”
In complete surprise, Rick looked over his shoulder to Mr. B., who wasn’t wearing his usual smile. The librarian was nodding in somber agreement with the judge.
Had Mr. B. done what he had in order to strengthen one fourteen-year-old boy’s position when he went back to court? Was that possible?
“Solutions,” the judge intoned. “This court is interested in solutions. I find the package in front of me entirely acceptable. Rick Walker will be transferred to the jurisdiction of Judge Thomas Haskins of Page, Arizona. He will live in the group home in Page and will attend Page High School. His status will remain strictly probationary. Rick Walker will serve the remaining six weeks of his original sentence, plus an additional six weeks, in service to the Condor Project, either at its Arizona site or its Utah site. Mr. Lon Peregrino of the Condor Project will personally conduct the subject to Page, Arizona—”
The judge looked up, looked at Lon. “Tomorrow, as I understand it.”
“Tomorrow,” Lon said.
“And enroll him immediately in the group home and the high school.”
The judge looked over his glasses, scanned the faces in front of him. “Are there any further questions? No? In that case this court is no longer in session.”
The judge rose and strode out of the room without looking back.
Rick went straight to Mr. B. “Thank you,” he said.
Mr. B.’s large, round face broke into his good-natured smile. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Have a good life, Rick.”
“You were a great librarian, you know.”
The man shrugged. “I hope so. But it was time for me to leave.”
They were passing through the outskirts of Las Vegas on the interstate. Blue Canyon was close, Rick realized, and then he sensed they’d already passed it by. With a glance over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the walls across a mile of flats sprinkled with creosote bushes and cut by arroyos.
He thought of the Kid Who Eats Glass. He wondered what would become of Killian.
He wondered if even Killian’s parents should be forgiven. He didn’t know the answer to that.
But he realized that he’d forgiven his. Can’t move on until you do, he remembered. And he had moved on. He could feel it deep inside.
He was looking forward to living in the group home in Page, Arizona, and going to Page High School. He wasn’t going to know anyone there, but he had a feeling he was going to find some friends.
Lon had his turn signal on. Up ahead the sign pointed out the road over the Hoover Dam across the Colorado. “What does Page look like?” Rick wondered aloud.
“It’s surrounded by redrock,” Lon replied with an expansive sweep of his hand. “Sits on a bluff right above the Colorado River. From the high school you’ll be looking west, smack at the Vermilion Cliffs beyond Glen Canyon Dam. To the north, across Lake Powell, you’ll be looking into Utah. It’s all drop-dead scenery. Keep your eyes open for condors—you’ll be well within the range of the birds from Vermilion Cliffs.”
“Tell me about those nine new condors you’re supposed to get in December.”
“I’ll introduce you in person over Christmas break.”
“Let’s talk about next summer, about working together at the Maze.”
“One thing…I can’t promise you I’ll have the money saved up for a new solo glider. Doubt I will—that’ll run close to four thousand dollars.”
“That’s just as well. I’ve had enough of solo for the time being. What about the tandem, though?”
“Tandem it is.”
Author’s Note
The idea for The Maze came as I trained a spotting scope on a juvenile condor soaring above the majestic Vermilion Cliffs near the Grand Canyon. My wife, Jean, and I were huddled there with three hardy bird biologists on a bitterly cold, windy day in late December 1996.
We’d driven from our home in southwestern Colorado hoping to catch a glimpse of this largest and rarest land bird in North America, after having read about the historic release of six fledgling condors less than two weeks before. Biologist Mark Vekasy from The Peregrine Fund explained why one of the condors was back in the release pen rather than in the air with the others. The day before, he’d had to capture the bird after a remarkable yet premature flight that ended on the flats ten miles away. There was drama here, I realized. I started thinking about putting fledgling condors together with a “fledgling boy” in a story.
The Peregrine Fund’s field notes from the Vermilion Cliffs, updated several times a month on the Internet, proved invaluable as I wrote the novel. Interested readers can follow the condors’ ongoing adventures via computer (http://www.peregrinefund.org). There’s also an excellent National Audubon Video narrated by Robert Redford entitled California Condor. I’d like to extend my appreciation to all the dedicated people in the field and in the zoos who are helping bring the condor back from the brink of extinction.
I’d also like to thank three hang glider pilots from my hometown of Durango, Colorado, who gave generously of their expertise: Dennis Haley, Keith Ystesund, and Debrek Baskins. It was a thrill to watch them fly.
For the Blue Canyon section of the novel I am indebted to John Haueisen, who was a librarian for more than a decade at a juvenile detention facility. His willingness to share anecdotes and background material with me provided the true-to-life details I needed for authenticity. All the characters in my story, as well as the facility itself, are entirely fictional.
Researching the Maze on foot was pure pleasure—I’ve been a canyon hiker for years. For the purposes of the story I have slightly fictionalized the area. In real life the primitive road descends the cliffs five miles away from where I’ve placed Lon’s camp. I’ve added the spring behind his camp and the sand dunes Rick used for a training hill. Their landing zone near the Doll House, as well as the rest of the topography of the Maze district, is as described.
I chose the edge of the Maze for the condor reintroduction base in my story for thematic purposes and for its stunning beauty. There is not an actual condor project in this location. Tantalizingly, however, one of the original six condors released in December 1996 overflew the Maze in July 1997 during an epic flight of 180 miles, soaring all the way from Vermilion Cliffs, Arizona, to the vicinity of Moab, Utah.
Durango, Colorado
December 1997
Enter the World of Will Hobbs…
Award-winning author Will Hobbs knows firsthand the thrills, excitement, and survival skills that bring his novels to life. His travels have taken him from the frozen mountains of Colorado to the vast wilderness of Canada and Alaska. He has rafted down raging rivers, snowshoed deep into the backcountry, camped at high altitudes, and survived in 20 degrees below zero weather.
“I get letters from kids saying it felt just like they were swimming with sea turtles or riding through the Window high on the Continental Divide,” the author has written. “That’s just what I’m hoping for….”
Will Hobbs has lived the adventure of the great outdoors, and his novels come alive with breathtaking realism that sweeps readers along on a thrill-a-minute ride.
The Big Wander
Fourteen-year-old Clay Lancaster and his older brother Mike are off on a trip they’ll never forget as they strike out into the red rock country of the Southwest in search of their missing uncle. But soon Mike gives up, and Clay is even more determined to go on. He follows a lead on his uncle’s whereabouts that takes him deep into the canyons of Navajo country, where he learns the ways of the people and the dangers of the wilderness, and discovers, just in time, the secret of what became of his long-lost uncle.
Bearstone
After finding himself in trouble, Cloyd Atcitty, a Ute boy, is forced to spend a summer with an elderly rancher. Cloyd longs to return to the remote canyon where he grew up, and he thinks there could never be true understanding between the rancher and him. But when the old man takes him up into the majestic mountains of Colorado, the two of them discover the illegal killing of a grizzly bear, and the crisis brings them together in a dramatic story of friendship, bears, and gold.
Beardance
In this exciting sequel to Bearstone, while riding in search of the lost gold mine, Cloyd hears a report that a mother grizzly with cubs has been sighted. With the help of a grizzly expert, Cloyd finds the bears. Then the cubs are orphaned, and it’s up to Cloyd, staying up in the mountains alone, to keep them alive. To do so, he must protect them from both nature and man, living among them and becoming one of them—dancing himself into the power of an ancient heritage to spare the magnificent creatures that could be the last of the Colorado grizzlies.
Kokopelli’s Flute
Fascinated by the magic of the ancient Anasazi cliff dwelling called “Picture House,” Tepary Jones knows it is the perfect place to view his first total eclipse of the moon. In the dark silence, Tep and his dog Dusty wait for the lunar show. Instead of the eclipse, Tep witnesses robbers with shovels chipping into the red sandstone, destroying the ancient pictures, and stealing the priceless treasures. He finds an ancient bone flute that’s been left behind, and something tells Tep that he shouldn’t put the flute to his lips…but he just can’t resist. And then the magic begins….
Far North
From the window of the small floatplane, fifteen-year-old Gabe Rogers is getting his first look at Canada’s magnificent Northwest territories with Raymond Providence, his roommate from boarding school. Below is the Nahanni River—wall-to-wall whitewater racing between sheer cliffs and plunging over Virginia Falls. When the pilot sets the plane down on the lakelike surface of the upper river for a closer look, the engine quits, and the plane drifts helplessly toward the falls…. Can the two boys survive alone in the Canadian wilderness in temperatures so cold that even getting their feet wet could mean death?
Ghost Cause
After a sailing ship breaks up on the rocks of Washington’s storm-tossed Cape Flattery, Nathan MacAllister, the son of the lighthouse keeper, refuses to believe there are no survivors. Unexplained footprints on a desolate beach, a theft at the trading post, and glimpses of a wild “hairy man” convince Nathan that someone is hiding in the remote sea caves. With his new friend, a fisherman from the famed Makah whaling tribe, Nathan paddles the Pacific in search of clues. Alone in the forest, he discovers a ghostly canoe and a skeleton that may unlock the mystery of ancient treasure, betrayal…and murder.
The Maze
Just fourteen, Rick Walker is alone, on the run, and desperate. Stowing away in the back of a truck, he suddenly finds himself at a dead end, out in the middle of nowhere. The Maze. Rick stumbles into the remote camp of Lon Peregrino, a bird biologist who is releasing fledgling California condors back into the wild. Intrigued, Rick decides to stay on. When two men with a vicious dog drive up, Rick discovers that Lon and his birds are in grave danger. Will he be able to save them?
Look for Jason’s Gold,
coming in hardcover from Morrow Jr. Books
in Fall 1999
and in paperback from Avon Camelot
in Fall 2000.
“We’ve got mill
ions!” the prospectors roared to the throng at Seattle’s docks.
“The Klondike is the richest goldfield in the world!”
Within moments, the telegraph is humming with news. Within hours, fifteen-year-old Jason Hawthorn is rushing west from New York City with a bad case of Klondike fever. Jason is sure his brothers back in Seattle will grubstake him, but they’ve already taken off for the goldfields.
Can Jason make it five hundred miles down the Yukon before freeze-up? As Jason battles his way north, he meets a Canadian girl named Jamie and is befriended by a twenty-one-year-old Californian named Jack London, but his only constant companion is King, a husky he rescues from a madman. Together they’ll face moose, bears, and the terrors of the subarctic winter.
For readers who love a survival story told with bone-chilling authenticity, here is an excerpt from Will Hobbs’s next adventure, Jason’s Gold.
With Miles Canyon and the White Horse Rapids behind him, Jason paddled furiously north down the Yukon. The sun had lost its power, its arc now ominously low in the sky. No more calls from geese or cranes, only from ravens, and the word they were croaking was “winter.”
It was do or die.
His canoe was fast, but still, he had fifty miles of river before Lake Leberge, where the current would die on him for thirty miles.
“Pull!” he yelled. “Pull!”
Confused, the husky turned around in the bow of the canoe, seeming to ask what he wanted.
“Sorry, King! I meant me, not you!”
Suddenly King pricked up his wolf-like ears and studied the shore. Jason stopped paddling, then heard a chirrup repeated several times.
There on the left, in the willows was a cow moose, the first moose he’d ever seen.
From the shore downstream came deep grunts. A bull moose was attacking a small spruce tree and utterly demolishing it with his massive antlers. Suddenly the bull left off the attack, flared his nostrils, and proceeded upriver toward the female.