As he reached the top, the world went white. Matt suddenly couldn't see!
He cursed, almost let go off the rope. He'd forgotten to turn off the goggles. The sudden appearance of sunlight at the top momentarily blinded him. Matt found foot purchase in the rock. He let the NV goggles dangle around his neck. He blinked feverishly then kept his eyes closed for a while. His muscles trembled. White spots gradually turned dark again. Matt opened his eyes. His vision had returned to normal. Satisfied, he climbed the rest of the way out. Relieved and panting, Matt rolled out into the hot sand.
"Mister, we are so damned grateful I can't tell you!"
Matt sat up. The miner had crawled away and was sitting near a cactus, cradling his claw hammer. Matt waved, "Sorry about that, mister."
"It wasn't my fault," the man said. A crafty look crossed his pocked features. "That evil Dark Man did it, pushed her down there. He does all kinds of bad shit."
Matt Cahill felt a chill in his bones. Mr. Dark? Here?
Before he could ask any questions, the two teens started screaming and waving. Someone was coming from the highway. Their father at long last. He was driving a battered white police cruiser.
It said Dry Wells Sheriff on the side…
THE BLOOD MESA Page 10