Kaliis was bent over one of the devices he carried. “Sir?”
“Yes, Kaliis?”
“Something is moving among those rocks.” He pointed toward a fissure that appeared to start somewhere in the middle of the mesa and slowly widened into a slit canyon that provided the only means to access the mesa by foot. Broken rocks and boulders littered the trail head where one could squeeze past two guardian rocks and then walk off the mesa down a trail of sorts. We’d been there before and knew it was the only way to walk off the flat-topped mountain. We’d made a return trip because we’d seen kitzloc sign on our first visit.
“I suggest,” Kaliis added, “we take a look.”
“Kaliis, aren’t you the bold one?”
“Simply performing my duty, ma’am.”
“How big is the beast?” Papaw asked.
“Big enough.”
“All right,” said Papaw. “Mandy, you ease up on the left. Kaliis, you go right. I’ll take the middle. Questions? No? So let’s move.”
We stepped out in the planned maneuver. I went to the left of the fissure and picked my way above the spot where the trail widened enough for larger critters to get through. Twenty-five meters across from me, standing on the other side of the fissure, was Kaliis. I watched as he crept along the edge, blaster in hand. Below me approached Papaw. He looked up and nodded.
He had to negotiate a series of turns to get around several boulders that during ancient times had been pushed into the original fissure when it first split according to some unknown geophysical event. Now the great rocks, smoothed by wind and rain, were little more than sentinels along a trail primarily used by Dreidelian predators.
I had an urge to write something on those boulders, something that would say I was there and I saw this before you, before anyone else. It was the lure of graffiti, a whispering of the ego asking to be remembered. I felt a little guilty about feeling that way because I was out enjoying nature on this pristine planet I called home. And what did I want to do? Deface the rocks by leaving my mark, my name painted in glowing letters. Even after realizing it, I still wanted to do it.
Papaw passed directly below me. He passed so close, I could have tapped him on the head with the end of my Vimbacher. That’s when I saw somebody had beaten me to it.
There, on the rock face where Papaw just stepped past, was scrawled one word, one unmistakable word. I even recognized the script. Phineas, it read.
Papaw paused, looked at the word, then looked at me and shook his head. I grinned at him and he smiled back.
From across the rift, the sound of Kaliis’ blaster cut through the air. “Coming your way!” he shouted, firing a heat charge at something I could not see. His shot hit one of the upright boulders. Lichen burned and steam rose from the spot.
Kaliis stayed where he was which indicated the creature was not taking the trail down; it was, rather, coming across the little canyon, straight at Papaw and me.
From his position below, Papaw asked if I could see anything.
“Not yet.” As soon as I got the words out, I saw a blur dash between rocks. “There you are,” I whispered. “It’s a black one,” I said to Papaw.
With the sun at my back and a spot that could not easily be reached, my perch was perfect. I could see anything coming my way. Papaw, however, was restless. He wanted to get out of his place and up onto the rocks where he could see. It was a lot scarier down there than it was up on the ledge. But Papaw wasn’t as spry as he once was. Climbing was no longer an option, so he anxiously waited, holding his old rifle and looking first up the trail, then down, then up again.
There weren’t so many of those black ones, but they were the worst kind. It would have been scary knowing what we were hunting except I had gotten a glimpse and I was certain it wasn’t mature. It wasn’t big yet.
We waited no more than a minute longer and Papaw announced he was coming out. “Cover me,” was his only instruction as he waved at Kaliis and re-traced his steps up the trail. The three of us ended up in a spot I picked for its vantage point. We kept an eye on the rocks below and watched for movement.
“It’s here,” Papaw said, “watching us even now. It’s crawled off into the shadows.”
“We should go after it,” I said.
Papaw shook his head. “That’s what it wants. Down there, it can take us on one at a time.”
Kaliis lifted a rhetorical finger in the air. “Excuse me, sir, but do you think it really knows that? It is, after all, little more than a simple animal.”
Grandpaw looked at Kaliis with a disappointed expression he’d been wearing of late. “This creature enjoys killing. It’s in the blood. Yes, it wants us to go down that mountain trail, single-file. I’ll bet it’s used the same tactic before, right here. No, Kaliis, these things know what they’re doing. Simple animal? Simple as a shark, I guess.”
“In that case, sir, perhaps we should withdraw and reinforce ourselves for a sustained effort.”
Papaw narrowed his eyes and looked at Kaliis. “Uh-huh,” Papaw grunted. He looked at me. “What’s the rule, Mandy?
I didn’t even need to think about it. “Don’t turn your back,” I said.
Papaw smiled. “That’s right,” he replied, taking a breath and standing even taller than his six five frame. When he asked us to move away from the canyon’s edge, I knew what he was up to.
We were a hundred yards back when Grandpaw launched the bomb. It was a munition known as “the brace.” I expect it was called that because that’s what you needed to do when setting one off. Basically, the weapon was a shape explosive that could fly. The operator, in this case, Papaw, remotely flew the 1.73 lb. package on a lifting platform called a quad. It was fun to fly, but unfortunately, most times the quad was destroyed in the process. At least, that’s what Uncle Pat had told me when he taught me how to use them. Papaw especially liked to fly the quad too, or else I’d have flown it.
The drone made a buzzing noise that came from the four, synchronized, horizontal spinning fans located at each corner of its lightweight frame. It wasn’t loud and sounded like Dreidelian dragonflies, almost soothing, in a way. The brace was suspended on an attached platform. When the quad was maneuvered into position, the operator would, theoretically, release the brace, then fly away. The brace would fall a selected number of feet before exploding. The charge was designed to apply maximum concussive force in a wide circle. It could, however, turn askew in its fall and blow any hapless onlookers into oblivion. That’s why you needed to practice with it. Uncle Pat even had Kaliis program a simulator into the house computer. Toby and Riley liked it better than I did.
There was an aiming system that came with the remote gear but Papaw wouldn’t use it, preferring instead to fly by sight. He flew the quad to the spot he wanted – the readout on the remote gave him the altitude, although he wouldn’t look at it. He guided the craft lower until it was at the optimum height.
“Boom,” he whispered.
A beat later, the brace ignited and you were reminded why it wasn’t exactly like an explosion. It was more like a great round fist coming down and flattening anything not already flattened in a ten meter circle.
Kaliis squatted and covered his head when the debris started falling.
Before the dust settled, the three of us were headed back to the fissure. Kaliis was in the middle this time, looking at his mass detector, while Grandpaw and I went right and left.
“What do you see?” Papaw asked Kaliis.
“Nothing.”
We walked forward until Kaliis stood at the head of the trail. It was an elevated position with a good, unobstructed, electronic range. Still, the instruments revealed nothing and I said so.
“There is something in a negative signal,” said Kaliis.
“What’s that?”
“The absence of a signal indicates the animal was retired from the area.”
“I’ll say,” said Papaw.
I was still looking around. “Where’d it go?
”
Papaw spread his hands. “Everywhere. We gave ‘em the old thump and grind. There’s nothing left bigger’n a fingernail.”
I shook my head at Papaw as Kaliis cleared his throat. “I am satisfied,” he said, “that the creature has been disposed.”
“Thank you for your recommendation, Kaliis.” Papaw faced me. “What do you think?”
I shrugged. “If the lizard was in the circle, he’s a goner. But…”
“Yes?”
“What if he wasn’t?”
Kaliis answered, “If the creature was currently in the vicinity and above ground, my mass detector would register. Motion sensors would tell me if he was on the move. And yet,” Kaliis paused and looked at his instrument readings, “I detect nothing. Therefore, I need no further proof.”
I expected Papaw to agree with Kaliis, but instead he said nothing. He just stood there looking at the rocks and at the trail that led down off the mesa, like maybe he expected to see that black lizard again.
Chapter 12
By the time Danny showed up on Sunday afternoon, Uncle Pat, Phineas, and Papaw had already left on their next hunting trip. They were going to be gone a week or two, Papaw said, and no you can’t come this time, Amanda. So, it was Danny, Aunt Liza, the kids, and me for my sixteenth birthday.
Aunt Liza held a devotional every Sunday morning at eight and all the kids had to go. Uncle Pat, of course, didn’t attend and neither did Papaw, although he did insist Phineas show up. Phineas was gone that Sunday and Liza was not going to allow me to lie in bed just because it was my birthday. So I got up, got dressed, and went out to the dairy barn and corral, built behind the old barn seven years ago, and I milked two of the clones Liza purchased at a stock sale in Calgary. The two cows gave up four pints each and the milk sloshed in the bucket as I carried it inside.
Liza handed me a cup of coffee and I drank it black, like Papaw had taught me, as Liza took the milk and poured out a portion for the boys’ breakfast. Toby and Riley sat at the breakfast table, lids drooping, but roused to eat by the smell of hot cakes and Liza’s experimental homemade syrup.
We got through breakfast just in time to be shepherded into the big room for Liza’s devotional. The boys were awake by then and Liza demanded they hold still for twenty minutes.
She opened with a prayer of thanks and a request for the safety of Uncle Pat, and Papaw, and Phineas. She asked for us to be “illuminated so that we may live in God’s grace and under His protection.” When she said “Amen,” we all repeated the word.
Liza had an old Bible and she opened it to a place previously marked and began reading.
“I will grant peace in the land, and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid. I will remove wild beasts from the land, and the sword will not pass through your country. Leviticus, chapter twenty-six, verse six,” she said. “God says, ‘Vengeance is mine’, which means we should rely on God to judge and exact revenge on others in return for wrongs they've committed against us.”
She looked at Toby and Riley and asked the boys if they understood. They nodded.
“Good. If you lead a righteous life and believe in God, then He may call on you to do something for Him.” Liza shuffled the pages until she found the verse she wanted. “This is from Deuteronomy,” she said, “chapter thirty-two, verse forty-one. When I sharpen my flashing sword and my hand grasps it in judgment, I will take vengeance on my adversaries and repay those who hate me.”
She looked to the boys. “You see, you want to live in peace, but you need to know how to handle a sword.”
“Ohh,” Riley’s eyes widened, “I want a sword.”
“Not me,” announced Toby, “I want a Vimbacher like Papaw.”
For a moment, chaos threatened to reign, but Liza capped the enthusiasm for a moment longer with a closing prayer.
Afterwards, the boys spilled out into the yard and raced to the barn to pursue male pastimes, including a rigid set of chores to be performed every day of the week, especially those concerning the care of animals.
Papaw complained that people thought him a cruel man, so he wanted to set rules at home that would contradict that notion. Liza approved because she saw religious principles in what he was doing. “Whatever,” Papaw grumbled, adding that, “Domestic animals should be treated with mercy. It’s a karma thing.”
At which point, Aunt Liza would object to the notion of karma and Grandpaw would say “Oh, you know what I mean,” and stomp away.
But Papaw wasn’t around this Sunday and I found myself missing him a little. Danny Doggett would show up sometime but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hang out with Danny. I mean, he was a nice enough guy, but he and his parents were from Summit and they all went to church together and listened to Jonah every Sunday. Attendance was required for residents of Summit. That’s fine, if you agree to it, but I couldn’t see myself living that sort of life.
Danny knew I wasn’t the type to live in a fundamentalist community, but he was young and was crushing on me. Lately his attentions had kept any other suitors at bay, or at least, so I thought because otherwise why would they stay away? On the other hand, I liked Danny even if it was pointless and I started to look forward to his company.
Liza didn’t need me in the house and it was a pretty day. After chores, I was in a celebratory mood, so I slipped on a necklace I had made with woven leather straps and Glaucus’s ring, admired myself in the mirror, and left the house with my gun and my kit. I picked out a mare and saddled her up, then took my time riding down the driveway to where it met the main road. It wasn’t just the main road for the surrounding community, it was the only road. Oh, there were single and double rutted tracks all over, but they were often impassable due to snow in winter and washouts in the spring.
Leisurely traffic passed on Saturdays and Sundays and it had become a popular pastime of mine to linger at the crossroads just to see who would come by. I didn’t think Danny would be early, but others would drive or ride by, always eager to stop and say hello and exchange news about the weather, who’s had a baby, who’s sick, who’s lucky, and who’s not.
When I was ten, Papaw allowed me to sell cold cuaro juice to travelers on Saturdays when he was at the ranch. I found I enjoyed talking to people more than selling the juice and I’m sure I met and became friends with most everybody in the area right there at the end of our three mile driveway.
My Vimbacher was in a leather scabbard hanging in front of my left leg and my kit bag was tied to the saddle. The mare I rode could walk the route blind-folded there and back. As the mare and I sauntered within sight of the road, a mechanical buggy bounced into view. I could make out two occupants in front, Randi and Andy, with their six children hanging onto rails in the back. They waved and I waved back. Randi and Andy lived four kilometers up the road, close enough to consider as neighbors. They were returning home from their Sunday morning meeting, or whatever they called it. Randi and Andy belonged to some Islamic breakaway group that were friendly enough but kept to themselves. That alone was enough to endear them to me. By the number of kids they had, I’m sure they believed in the “go forth and multiply” edict.
We all reached the end of the driveway at the same time. I sat on the mare and watched as Andy pulled the buggy to a halt. He tipped his hat. “Hello Amanda.” The six children of various ages (none over ten, I’m certain) echoed the greeting. “Hello Amanda.”
“Hi everybody.”
Randi didn’t say anything to me. She did lean to her husband’s ear and suggest they keep going. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said before turning to me, smiling.
“Everything all right at the ranch?”
I nodded in the affirmative. “Yep. Papaw and Pat are out for the week, but we’re all fine. Toby got a rash from a sumac patch at Crooked Creek. He’s about over it. Liza lost three pounds.”
“Ah, tell her congratulations.”
“No bother. She’ll find ‘em again.”
“Well. We’d better be on our
way before the kids start spillin’ out. You want us to leave one or two with you?”
Every child in back began to volunteer to be left in my charge. Suddenly unrestrained, they shouted “I’ll stay! I’ll stay!” and raised their index fingers like bidders in a market.
I had to laugh. “Go home with me and Liza will put you to work,” I cautioned.
Andy tipped his hat again and the buggy began to roll forward. “Say good-bye to Amanda, everybody.”
The children didn’t need encouragement and I received a chorus of good-byes.
“Bye-bye,” I said and, catching Randi’s eye, I said good-bye to her as well. Her eyes narrowed in response but she smiled and waved. I did not understand why that woman did not like me.
The kids waved like maniacs until they finally topped the next hill and disappeared.
When the buggy was gone, silence fell hard. There were no insect sounds, or bird calls, not even a whisper of motion in the air although clouds overhead moved at a rapid pace. I stepped down off the horse and tied her harness to the gate with enough room so she could reach the tall grass growing uncut around the steel poles.
The lay of the land where the two roads met was on one side of a shallow valley. I could see the road where it appeared over a hill a half kilometer away. Turning round, the same road disappeared over the next hill. I had traveled both directions, not as far as Grandpaw and Uncle Pat, but I’d seen the territory up to where it gets too cold to live. Plus, I’d been down to the shore at Calgary and gone as far as the launch center, which was a few kilometers up the coast. I wanted to travel more. I wanted to be a hunter like Papaw.
Outcroppings dotted the landscape along the road, exposing sedimentary layers of rock. Beyond were green fields planted by farmers Eddie and Edie Nicklemeyer who sold their crops mainly to Summit, but sometimes to Calgary as well. I could see the tops of trees peeking over the nearest ridge and knew both timber and open fields were plentiful for hundreds of miles.
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