Whispers in the Dark

by Chris Eboch

  Jerry smiled as I entered the visitors center and waved me to the back room. I sank onto the sofa, grateful to escape the sun for a while. Jerry pointed to three paper-wrapped sandwiches on the table. “I g-g-got ham, turkey, and veg-vegetarian. You choose.”

  “I’ll take turkey, if that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine,” Danesh said, picking up the vegetarian. “Jerry will eat anything.”

  I wondered if he was teasing Jerry about his weight. But Jerry was smiling and nodding as he picked up the ham sandwich. I had to stop jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst. I’d decided to be friendly, so it was time to tone down my overactive defenses.

  I unwrapped the sandwich and bit through thick layers of meat and cheese between fragrant sourdough bread. People certainly knew how to eat in this little corner of nowhere. Danesh passed around sodas from the little fridge, and the cold cola tasted like heaven after a morning of hard work with only a bottle of increasingly hot water to ease my thirst.

  As I listened to the men talk, I wondered how Jerry felt when Danesh finished his sentences for him. I’d felt the temptation myself sometimes but had resisted. Did Jerry feel hurt or angry when people literally took the words right out of his mouth? Or was he relieved to be understood quickly, so he didn’t have to struggle through the rest of his statement? It was a sad side effect of our polite society that you couldn’t just ask outright how someone felt or what he wanted. You had to guess and hope for the best. Or the worst, depending on your attitude.

  I regretted that I would probably never get to know Jerry well and wondered how many others found it easier to avoid his friendship rather than work for it.

  Danesh turned to me. “You told us about school. What do you do for fun? Or don’t you have time for that?”

  “School is fun. But I do other things. I’m on an intramural softball team. I like to go dancing or just hang out at a bar.” Maybe I shouldn’t have included that last statement. They might be picturing crummy dives with alcoholic bums, not the casual, student-friendly bars around Harvard Square.

  “I don’t suppose you do much hiking,” Danesh said.

  “Not by your definition. I go city hiking. Boston is a great city for walking. You can take the subway somewhere and then wander for hours. There are some great historical walking tours.”

  Danesh glanced at my legs. “Keeps you in shape, anyway. Hiking is my favorite pastime. Not much else to do around here. Outside, anyway.”

  I wondered just what he was implying about indoor activities. He took another bite of his sandwich, with no sly smile to show he was suggesting something, but he wasn’t the easiest guy to read. I, on the other hand, was probably turning pink as visions of Danesh getting indoor “exercise” filled my mind.

  “What po-po-position?” Jerry asked.

  “What?” For a moment I thought Jerry had read my mind. Then I realized what he meant. “Oh, shortstop mostly. We trade around, though.”

  “Wo-would you l-l-like—” he seemed to get totally stuck and turned Danesh with a pleading gesture.

  “Hey, that’s right! Maureen’s team is playing today, right?”

  When Jerry nodded, Danesh explained. “Maureen is Jerry’s girlfriend. She plays on a city league—strictly fun, you know. More about drinking beer and trading jokes than winning. I’m sure they’d be happy to have a visiting player.”

  “That... sounds like fun.” Playing softball with a bunch of strangers wasn’t on top of my to-do list, but I was still processing the information that Jerry had a girlfriend and feeling guilty that I was so surprised.

  Danesh glanced at the clock on the wall. “What time’s the game?”

  “Six,” Jerry said.

  “So if we leave here right at five, we’ll make it. They usually have a pizza break, and afterward everyone goes out for drinks.”

  Apparently it was settled. I was starting to like the idea, though. I told myself it would be rude to turn down Jerry’s kind offer, but in reality I couldn’t wait to get a look at the girlfriend. Plus, pizza! If I kept up this hectic social life, I’d never have to cook for myself. “I’ll be here at five.”

  “Bring that shirt. I’ll take it home and wash it.”

  I glanced down at my uniform shirt and wrinkled my nose. “Thanks for the hint. You’re the one who told me to wear it every day.” I stood and tossed my sandwich wrapper into the garbage. “I guess if you’re going to wash it, there’s no point in holding back now. A few more hours of work and it should be totally funky. I hope you don’t pass out in your car from the fumes.”

  Danesh grinned up at me. “We’ll toss it in the trunk. Don’t work too hard. And I mean that. The heat is ferocious this time of day.”

  “I’ll be careful.” How many times did I have to repeat that statement? But he meant well. We’d all enjoy this month more if I let those comments go. But I would be careful not to get heat stroke, if only because I didn’t want to prove him right.

  I worked for another two hours before I had to concede defeat. I felt limp from the heat and my head pounded from the sun, so I decided to take a break in the cool bottom of the canyon. I found a nice boulder at the edge of the river, took off my boots and socks, and soaked my feet until they felt numb and I started to shiver in the spray of cool water.

  I backed away from the river and had a snack while my feet dried. It was almost four o’clock, so I had a little time before I had to change clothes and meet the guys. I couldn’t do much of a tour, but I could visit one or two structures and use my official shirt as an excuse to take a closer look. I remembered the lights from the night before and tried to decide where they might have been. The best bet seemed like the ruin known as Eroded Boulder House. I took the path up to the canyon rim and headed for that site.

  The Ancestral Pueblo People had taken advantage of a natural formation—an enormous rock with one side eroded underneath, forming an overhang something like a porch roof. The ancient builders had used the boulder for the roof and back wall, building three more walls to enclose the unit. Most of the stones had fallen from the outer walls, leaving rubble scattered around the boulder, but some interior walls still stood.

  This ruin was one of the most accessible from the trail, and visitors were actually allowed to go inside. I skirted the boulder until I could enter the ruin. I had to crouch to get through the low doorway, even with part of the wall collapsed. Once inside, I stayed in a crouch. The Ancestral Pueblo People had been even shorter than I was.

  I paused to let my eyes adjust before glancing around. After the bright light outside, I couldn’t see much detail. As I turned to go, a glint of white against the reddish-brown stones caught my attention. A crumpled piece of paper. Why couldn’t people be more careful with their litter?

  I grabbed the paper and went back outside. The paper contained a crude drawing—a sort of puffy Y-shape with marks on it. Random doodles? Secret code?

  The drawing seemed vaguely familiar. I turned it sideways, then upside down. Where had I seen that shape before?

  I almost laughed. The canyon! Like the diagram in my guidebook, the Y-shape showed only this end, where the ruins were clustered. The marks must indicate some of the ruins, though it didn’t have all of them. Some were marked with little squares, and one with an X. X marks the spot? Buried treasure?

  Could it have anything to do with the lights and voices the previous night? I shook my head. Most likely some kids’ game. The only children I’d seen were the poor little boys from last night. Surely they were too young to be running around on their own after dark. Though, on reflection, I had to admit that it was probably no more dangerous than staying with their parents. I didn’t have much experience with kids, but those two certainly were frighteningly self-possessed and had been on their own when I first met them. I wondered if they were still with the Wests or if they had been taken to town.

  I crumpled the paper to throw it away but hesitated. Should I show it to Danesh and Jerry? They might want to
know if someone was playing games in their ruins. But the whole thing seemed harmless. I didn’t see any damage or anything out of place. And I certainly didn’t want anyone questioning those two little boys. They might already be gone and never come back, but if they did, I didn’t want anyone harassing them. The Wests would keep an eye on them.

  I would just forget about what I had seen. We’d had enough trouble last night. I didn’t need to start more. I had enough to worry about with a night of “local color” ahead.

  Chapter 11

  I checked my watch. Time to be getting to the visitors center. I was looking forward to the evening but also nervous about meeting a big group of new people. What if I didn’t like anybody? What if they didn’t like me? Playing softball should be okay, because we had something to do. I could plead exhaustion and skip out on the bar afterward if I didn’t feel comfortable. At least I was getting involved. I was showing up, even if I wasn’t comfortable yet.

  I wondered if I’d run into Sean. This area couldn’t have too many options for social interaction. And coincidences happened just when you thought they couldn’t. Not that I really cared, but it would be funny if he turned out to be on the softball team or something.

  I went back to the campground and washed up, but I knew nothing would make much of a difference if I were going to spend an hour in a hot car and then play softball. I’d bring my brush and mascara so I could primp a bit afterward, but this didn’t seem like the region for big makeup jobs.

  Finally I hopped in my car and drove the half-mile to the visitors center. I arrived at ten minutes to five and saw a car and a truck in the parking lot. I assumed they belonged to Jerry and Danesh, but when I went inside I saw a young couple standing at the counter. Jerry handed a camping permit to the man.

  The woman, not much more than twenty with wavy, bottle-blonde hair, leaned across the counter toward Danesh. “Do you lead any walks or fireside chats?” she asked, with emphasis on the “you.”

  “Sometimes. There’s a nature walk every morning at ten, and Sunday night a storyteller will present some folktales. He’s really good.”

  “I’m just so interested in learning about your people,” she purred.

  Danesh met my eyes over the woman’s head and said without expression, “If you want to learn about the Pueblo Indians, you should visit one of the Pueblos or the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center in Albuquerque.”

  She started to speak but her boyfriend or husband put his arm around her and growled, “Come on, let’s go.”

  As he dragged her away, she looked back at Danesh. “Thanks so much. See you soon!”

  Her companion almost pushed her out the door. As he brushed past me, he gave me a puzzled glance, probably wondering why I was snickering.

  I smiled at Danesh. “Well handled.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Is it five yet?” He and Jerry tidied some papers, turned out the lights, and locked the door behind them.

  Jerry went to the truck. Danesh said, “I’ll ride with Kylie so she won’t get lost.”

  Jerry nodded, and Danesh headed for the passenger side of my car. At least he didn’t assume it was a male prerogative to drive. I got in and hurriedly cleared off the passenger seat. “You don’t have your own car?” I asked as Danesh slid in.

  “Sure, but we carpool. I only live a mile from Jerry.”

  I nodded and pulled out of the parking lot after Jerry’s truck. I would be stuck in the car with Danesh for the whole drive, and I didn’t know if I had that much conversation.

  “How far is it?” I asked.

  “Forty-five minutes, maybe.”

  “It’s so funny. I mean, New England is tiny. You can drive across three or four states in a few hours. But you don’t have to drive across state lines just to get dinner.”

  “Here, you could stand in four states at once, if you’re in the right spot. They have it marked so the tourists can do that.”

  I’d heard of the Four Corners Monument, which marked where Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah met. I didn’t want to admit that I’d thought I might like to play tourist and visit. But I wondered if I could use his mention of tourists to introduce a topic that interested me more.

  I hesitated, remembering how he had shut down when I tried to tease him about the New Age crowd thinking he was a shaman, but I wanted to understand. “You get a lot of people like that girl who was just in?”

  He grunted.

  “I’m not surprised people assume you’re Native American.” I tried to think how to word my question so as not to offend. “Does that affect how people treat you in this job?”

  “Sometimes.” He sighed and turned toward the side window, but a few seconds later he looked back with the half smile in place. “It’s very trendy in some areas to be Native American. At least to people who aren’t.”

  “But you don’t take advantage of it.”

  “It’s cheating and it’s... shallow, I guess. For all the progress we’ve made with civil rights, people still have a lot of stereotypes. With Native Americans, some of the stereotypes could be considered positive. They’re seen as heroic, with some sort of mystical power. But in reality too many of them struggle just to get by. Anyway, I don’t like to get attention for the way I look.”

  I could imagine women flocking to him, especially when he smiled. Most men would love the attention, but something in Danesh’s voice told me he was telling the truth.

  We drove in silence for several minutes, and then Danesh began to talk. “My first college girlfriend—her name was Jennifer. I was so flattered when she came after me. And she did pursue me, one hundred percent. She was beautiful, smart, fun, with this long red hair and long filmy skirts. It took me a while to realize she thought I was Native American, and she liked that.”

  He sighed. “For a while… I didn’t even tell her the truth. When I did, she was disappointed. She was into dream catchers and vision quests, stuff like that. She didn’t want to hear about my Filipino grandmother, let alone the Danish side. I was supposed to resent whites for betraying my people. I played along for awhile, but finally I got sick of being pushed to be someone I’m not.”

  “Wow,” I said and thought what an inadequate response that was. No wonder Danesh resented people assuming he was Native American. “But you must realize that working at a site like Lost Valley is just going to make things worse. People come here with Native Americans on their minds. They might not make the same assumptions in a big cosmopolitan city, like San Francisco or New York.”

  Danesh gave a shudder of disgust. “It’s not worth it. College in Boulder was enough city for me. I’ll put up with a lot for this.” He gestured at the landscape, which still seemed barren and brown to me. The rock formations were fascinating, but cool and impersonal, not welcoming.

  “I was star watching once, alone up on a mesa,” Danesh said. “During the Leonid meteor shower. It was mid-November—dark and cold, but perfectly clear. Amazing. I saw shooting stars by the dozens. Then it started to get foggy, so I headed back about three in the morning, through these patches of swirling mist. I came out of one of them, and standing on the path in front of me was a wolf. A gray wolf—huge! You have no idea how big they are until you see one up close. We just stared at each other for a long time. I think he was as startled as I was.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Finally I realized I could be in danger. The wolf seemed to be waiting for me to make the first move, so I shook my backpack and it rattled, the pot and fork and tin can from my dinner, human sounds. The wolf turned around and walked away.”

  He grinned at me. “I can’t tell you how nervous I was the rest of the way back to my car! Afraid that it might appear again… but hoping it would, too. It was the most incredible experience of my life.”

  “It sounds amazing.” I had to force my eyes away from his smile and back on the road so we wouldn’t crash. “I’m jealous.”

  Danesh sighed. “Jennifer insisted that it was my spirit
guide. Said I should have asked it questions instead of scaring it away. But it wasn’t anything mystical. It was a real, wild, powerful animal, and to me that was better. Anyway, I decided then that I wanted a job that kept me outside, not sitting at a desk all day long. So maybe the wolf was a guide, in a way.”

  “I like that thought.”

  We rode in silence for while, and then Danesh started talking about some of the other area attractions—Monument Valley, Mesa Verde, the Canyonlands. He made me want to visit every one of them, and I wondered how long I could extend this trip. I had already started looking into jobs in the region, even before I knew how I felt about it. Now I was starting to believe I could be happy living here. I might not have embraced the landscape the way he did yet, but I was starting to see how it could get under your skin.

  Danesh gestured toward the road ahead. “Almost there.”

  A glance at the clock confirmed that we had indeed been driving for over half an hour—and it had been easy to keep the conversation flowing. I squinted at the faint bumps on the horizon. The billboards were visible first, then neon signs, and before long we passed fast food joints and motels. Jerry turned once, then again, and I lost sight of his truck, but Danesh directed me, and within five minutes of entering town we reached the ball field.

  The field was a hard-packed tan diamond surrounded by a hard-packed tan landscape. It looked like someone just put up a fence and some bleachers in the desert and painted lines on the ground. At least finding a parking space wasn’t hard; cars sat at random angles behind the bleachers.

  We got out to join Jerry as a tall, thin woman hurried toward him. She reached him first and gave him a quick hug and kiss. Then she turned to Danesh.

  “Danny, honey!” She pecked his cheek lightly. “And who’s your friend?” The way she said it suggested we were dating.

  “Kylie, our visiting archaeologist,” Danesh said. “This is Maureen.”

  I’d been wrong about makeup here. Not that Maureen was gaudy, but she was definitely wearing eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick, and I’d bet on foundation and blush, too. Her hair, brown with frosted blond highlights, was permed and spritzed into a fluffy helmet of curls. Except for the shorts and T-shirt, she looked ready for a sorority party, not a ballgame.