Track of the Scorpion

by R. R. Irvine

  Behind her, the Land Rover was matching her speed.

  So far, the only vegetation she’d seen looked dry and brittle, waiting only for the slightest breeze to blow it away. The poor Anasazi, she thought, having to cross such country on foot. How had they carried their water? How much could she carry, along with the 30-.30?

  Mile after mile passed. And with each of them, the landscape grew more barren, until at last there was nothing to see except mirages.

  Finally, Nick saw an island poke its head above the heat waves. She shook her head, then blinked repeatedly. Unless she was hallucinating, the sharp sawtooth rocks that marked the beginning of Chaco Ridge were dead ahead. She stepped on the accelerator. She needed more space, more time. A smoke screen of dust rose behind the Trooper.

  The Land Rover was totally obscured by the time she braked next to the first outcropping of rock. She killed the engine, released the hood latch, and threw open the door.

  With hands steadier than they had any right to be, she removed the distributor cap and shoved it into her jeans next to her key ring. She could hear the approaching Land Rover but didn’t waste time looking for it. Instead, she emptied all the water jugs except two. Wrapping a couple of the bungee cords around her waist, she grabbed the last two jugs and the .30-.30, slung the binoculars around her neck, and sprinted for the rocks.

  By the time she took cover, Nick was gasping for breath and blinded by sweat. Her hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t steady the gunsight.

  “She stopped,” Hatch said. “We’ve got her.”

  Kemp slowed the Land Rover to a halt well short of the Trooper.

  “Get closer.”

  “I don’t see her,” Kemp said.

  “She must be hiding in those rocks. All we have to do is flush her out.”

  Kemp shook his head. “She fooled us once.” He slipped the gearshift into reverse and began backing away. “A sniper could pick us off from those rocks.”

  “She’s an archaeologist, for Christ’s sake. Look. Her hood’s up. The car’s conked out, that’s all.”

  “It’s safer if we go on foot.”

  Hatch glared. His head ached. He was grimy and soaked with sweat, and the tepid water he’d been drinking had left him queasy without quenching his thirst.

  “Forget it, Kemp. This heat isn’t fit for a lizard. I’m not walking any farther than I have to.”

  Kemp switched off the engine. At a guess, Hatch figured they were a hundred yards from the rocks.

  “You stay here, then, while I go take a look-see,” Kemp said.

  As he was opening the door, steam exploded from the radiator an instant before the sound of the shot arrived.

  “She’s shooting at us!” Kemp rolled out of the car and onto the ground.

  Hatch tried to do the same, but landed on his shoulder. His arm went numb.

  Another bullet slammed into the front of the Land Rover.

  “Goddammit,” Kemp shouted under the car. “I told you so.”

  “Shoot back,” Hatch ordered.

  Peering under the car, Hatch saw Kemp crawl to the back door. Water was gushing from the radiator.

  Kemp fired a long burst from the assault rifle.

  “Do you see her?” Hatch shouted.

  “I think she moved as soon as I started firing.”

  Hatch thought that over. The ridge of rock petered out about a half mile to the east. So all they had to do was follow until she ran out of cover. Logically, Kemp should take one side, Hatch the other. But Hatch wasn’t up to that kind of walk, not in this heat.

  “She’s on foot,” Hatch said. “All you’ve got to do is run her down.” “The Land Rover’s finished. Maybe we can hotwire her car.”

  When they reached the Trooper, the keys were missing and so was the distributor cap. Empty plastic water bottles lay on their sides, their contents absorbed by the sand.

  Kemp kicked the door panel in frustration. “We’re stranded out here.”

  “She didn’t know enough to shoot what’s really important.” Hatch gestured toward the back of the Land Rover. “Set up the satellite gear. We’ll call in our coordinates.”

  Kemp nodded. “With help on the way, there’s no sense going after her. She’s got nowhere to go, and if she tries circling back, we outgun her.”

  Hatch squinted at the sawtooth ridge. As far as he could see, there wouldn’t be any shade until the sun was damn near down. He checked their water supply. Six quart-size bottles remained in the case. That should be plenty, since Lee would be arriving before dark, or tomorrow morning at the latest. But what if Kemp was wrong about the badlands? What if the woman had an escape route? In that case Lee would arrive too late.

  Hatch clenched his teeth. He’d underestimated the Scott woman once. Twice would be unthinkable.

  “You go after her,” Hatch said. “My son and I will catch up.”

  Kemp shook his head. “Like I said, she’s not going anywhere. The best thing we can do is find ourselves some shade and wait.”

  “Where?”

  “Under the car.”

  “Would five million dollars change your mind?” Hatch said. “Shall we say payable into your offshore account the moment the woman’s dead?”

  “Payable in advance. You can use the satellite to make the transfer right now.”

  “Why not?” Hatch said, figuring he could retrieve the money later anyway.

  “And I’ll take half the water,” Kemp said.

  “Not until you’ve set up the satellite gear.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Nick collapsed onto the rocky soil at the eastern end of Chaco Ridge. Ahead lay another three and a half miles of desert before she reached Site No. 2. So far, she’d walked half a mile without so much as a sip of water, but now she had to drink. Otherwise, she’d keel over and fry like an egg.

  She filled her mouth with the warm water and swished it around before swallowing. Instantly, she felt more thirsty than ever. Five swallows, that’s all she was going to allow herself. Five swallows every half mile.

  At the count of five, she recapped the jug and focused her binoculars back the way she’d come. Both men appeared to have stayed with the Land Rover.

  Come on, you bastards. Chase me.

  Didn’t they know that without transportation they were as good as dead? They had to follow her; they had to think she’d lead them to water.

  She fiddled with the focus. Was that movement or a mirage? She nodded. Finally one of them was coming after her. Common sense said it had to be the henchmen, not someone Hatch’s age.

  Good enough, she thought. If she survived, she relished the idea of returning to confront Leland Hatch face to face.

  In the meantime she’d have to pick up her pace. She drank more water. And why not? Either Elliot was right about the kiva being a sacred well or she was dead already.

  When the first jug ran out, she fastened the empty container to the bungee cord around her waist. Otherwise, she’d have nothing to refill for the trip back.

  Kemp located her tracks at the far end of the ridge. She appeared to be heading due east. Somewhere out there, he knew, was another Indian ruin, though why she’d head for it, he had no idea.

  He shaded his eyes, but saw no sign of the woman, only heat waves obscuring the horizon. She was setting a faster pace than he’d thought possible under such conditions. He picked up his own. By God, no woman was going to outwalk him, not with five million dollars waiting to be spent.

  A mile later, he finished the first of his three bottles of water and discarded the empty. And still he couldn’t see her.

  When the next bottle ran out, he stopped and looked back the way he’d come. The ridge had long since disappeared into the heat waves. He had one bottle left for the return trip. If he didn’t turn back now, he might not make it without more water.

  “Think,” he muttered. If he felt like shit, think how she must feel. He promised himself that when he caught up with her, he’d drink her water an
d make her watch.

  By the time Nick reached Site No. 2, she could barely walk. Her knees were raw from stumbling the last half mile. What water she had left sloshed in the bottom of the jug. By tomorrow, she wouldn’t have the strength to move if she didn’t find more water.

  Above her, cliff dwellings clung to the side of a nearly vertical redrock wall, the only landmark for miles. Up there would be shade, but no water. Instead of bats, there were scorpions. She remembered them from the last dig.

  The kiva, as she recalled, was in a gully at the base of the cliff. According to her father, it had been built over the bed of an ancient river that had eroded the cliff out of red sandstone thousands of years ago.

  Keeping her eyes on the ground, she walked along the base of the rock wall. She found the gully easily enough, though it didn’t look like much of a riverbed to her. There was no sign of a kiva.

  Think, for God’s sake. She’d been an undergraduate when her father had brought her here. At that time, the kiva had been fully excavated.

  She raised the plastic jug to eye level. There couldn’t be more than two swallows left. She licked her lips. She was dead, no doubt about it.

  She put the jug to her lips and sucked it dry. The water was warm, almost hot, but tasted wonderful. She dropped to her knees and closed her eyes. Her memory played back Elliot giving orders to his students to have the kiva covered with plywood to protect it from the elements.

  She opened her eyes. Memory put her very close to the spot. On hands and knees, she felt the ground around her. Less than ten feet away, her probing fingers found the edge of the plywood. She cleared away the drifting sand, then slid the wood to one side. Cool, dank air rose from inside the kiva.

  She lay on her stomach to peer inside. A ladder built by Elliot’s students was still in place. The thought crossed her mind that it might not hold her weight after so many years, but she had no choice. She dropped the plastic jugs and rifle into the pit, then brushed out her footprints in the immediate area. That done, she lowered herself feet first into the opening and climbed into the kiva. Once she’d stowed her rifle, she mounted the ladder again and wrestled the plywood back into place. Instantly, the darkness was tomblike and absolute.

  She descended carefully, felt her way to one of the ledges where the ancient Anasazi had sat during their ceremonies, and lay down to rest.

  Time passed. She heard nothing, no sound above or water below. The thought flashed through her mind that she had climbed into her own grave.

  Sitting up, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and fished out the miniflashlight attached to her key ring. After offering a prayer to the God of batteries, she switched it on. The beam was weak, useful only for finding keyholes, but somehow it seemed like a good omen.

  She switched it off to conserve power, then thought over her next move. How long could a man survive in this heat? That would depend on his water supply, on how much he could carry. Judging by her own condition, twenty-four hours from now she’d be comatose, even if she did nothing but lie here in the cool darkness. So that would be her deadline. In twenty-four hours, she’d leave the kiva. By then her pursuer would be in no condition to give chase. If she’d miscalculated, she’d die. If not, she’d start back for her father, assuming she’d found water by then.

  CHAPTER 41

  Hatch punched his password into the uplink transmitter while congratulating himself on his foresight for having brought along the equipment. He savored the technology. In his mind, he watched its signal bounce off the CMI satellite and then home in on his private jet.

  Almost instantly, his son answered with crystal clarity. “Is everything all right?”

  “There’s been a slight complication. I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere until you get here.”

  “We’re locked on your signal and your coordinates have already been programmed into our tracking beacons.”

  Hatch smiled. Foresight, that was the key to success. Having Lee in the air as backup was a master stroke. Probably he was sitting in the copilot’s seat, which he’d loved doing since his first flight as a child.

  “What about Kemp?” Lee asked.

  “It’s a hundred and fifteen degrees here, and getting hotter by the feel of it. The girl’s on foot, and I sent Kemp after her. With luck, the desert will do our dirty work. All we’ll have to do is bury them. What’s your ETA? I’m running out of water.”

  “We’re on final approach to Albuquerque now. I’ve arranged for humvees to be waiting at the airport. We’ll be with you by nightfall.”

  “Don’t risk the desert at night. I may be thirsty, but tomorrow morning will be soon enough for you to get here.”

  Off-mike, Hatch heard the pilot alerting the Albuquerque tower that there was traffic ahead.

  “Jesus!” Lee said.

  “What’s happening?” Hatch asked but got no response.

  “Son of a bitch,” he could hear the pilot say. “That idiot’s coming right at us!”

  “Go left.”

  “He’s turning in to us!”

  “Pull up!” Lee’s voice cried out. “Oh, shit—”

  There was a burst of static before the transmission ceased. “Lee!” Hatch shouted. “Talk to me.”

  Even as he spoke, Hatch knew it was useless. His son was dead. History had repeated itself; it had come back to haunt him. All those nightmares had been a warning against this. In his mind’s eye, he saw the jet, like the B-17 before it, plummet toward the earth.

  Peering up at the cliff dwelling, Kemp tasted blood from his sun-cracked lips. The woman had to be up there; there was no other possible place to hide.

  Suicidal, that’s what she was to come to a place like this. There was no vegetation, so there sure as hell couldn’t be any water.

  Wearily, he tracked her footprints, but there seemed to be no definite pattern. One thing was certain, she’d visited the base of the cliff. He followed her trail along the rock wall looking for a way up. At one point he found what might have been handholds, though time and erosion had shallowed them.

  Kemp prided himself on being a strong man, in prime condition. But he also knew his own limitations. If he tapped his energy reserves by climbing up after her, he’d be pushing his luck. Longingly, he eyed his one remaining bottle of water.

  He shook his head violently. The heat must be getting to him. He wasn’t thinking straight. Hatch would be here soon enough with help.

  Kemp opened the bottle and drank deeply, then craned his neck. “I’m coming up, bitch. When I get my hands on you, you’re dead.”

  Wait a minute, he thought. She was armed, for Christ’s sake, and here he was standing out in the open.

  He flattened himself against the rock wall and found himself staring west into the sun. How long before it set? At least two hours, he guessed. The thought panicked him. He had to get under cover before then.

  Suddenly, he banged himself on the forehead. If he felt like this, she must be half dead by now. All he’d have to do is climb up and finish her off, dump her body over the side, and then hunker down until reinforcements arrived.

  “Bitch,” he muttered, and started to climb.

  Two stories up, he grabbed an ancient windowsill and pulled himself through the opening. His feet were about to hit the floor when something stung his hand. He screamed with rage. Reflex hurled the scorpion against the wall. Goddamn. The floor was alive with them. He stomped until there was nothing left but goo. Then he cut open the wound and sucked out the poison.

  Nick heard his muffled shout but couldn’t make out the words. But his tone of voice sent a chill up her spine despite the heat. She fed the rest of her shells into the .30-.30, braced herself against the kiva wall, and waited.

  An hour passed, then another. By now the sun would be setting. Soon there wouldn’t be enough light for him to find her hiding place.

  She sucked on a pebble, but couldn’t raise any spit. If she hadn’t gotten out of the sun, she’d have been desperate by now. She
smiled in spite of herself. Desperation wasn’t that far off.

  She closed her eyes against the darkness. Her father would be waiting in the dark, too, alone in that cliff dwelling. She had to survive. She had to make it back to him. He was depending on her.

  Breathe deeply, she told herself. Rest. Hoard your strength.

  After a while, exhausted sleep brought Nick“s mother back to life. “You can’t know what it’s like,” Elaine said, “to live inside a black well of despair.”

  A five-year-old Nick grasped her mother’s hand. “Ill pull you out.”

  “Don’t ever let go of me. If you do, I’ll fall forever. I’ll die in blackness.”

  Nick jerked awake, gasping. Once her breathing slowed, she dropped to her hands and knees and felt her way across the floor of the kiva. When earth gave way to stone, she switched on her flashlight. The stone was about two feet square, showing chisel marks around the edges.

  So far, so good.

  Using her Swiss pocket knife, Nick dug along one side of the rock. An inch down doubts assailed her. Maybe it wasn’t a wellhead, but only bedrock.

  In the next instant, she found the bottom of the slab. After that it was only a matter of clearing enough earth to give her a handhold. When that was done, she used the butt of her rifle to lever the stone to one side.

  But there was no well shaft beneath it, only smaller stones.

  She sank onto her side to rest. Maybe it had been a well once, but now it was dry.

  Elaine’s words came back. “I’ll die in blackness.”

  Nick shook her head. In the morning, she’d climb out of the kiva and start back. No matter how hopeless the trek, frying in the sun was better than waiting in the dark to die.

  In frustration she reached out, grabbed a rock, and threw it against the wall. Was it her imagination, or had it felt damp?

  She touched another one. It, too, felt damp. She leaned her ear against the rock and heard a distant trickle. Frantically, she began digging down through the loose stones.