The Rock Child

by Win Blevins

  Without a word Asie found some more candles and a forged holder with a point for sticking into cracks. Sun Moon helped him light and mount them. She felt the fear waving up and down in her chest. She thought of Asie’s word for it, willywoolly, and smiled to herself. Even six candles made no difference—the dark still felt like something caught in her throat.

  Partly to ease this feeling, she rummaged in the tinned food. Yes, there was something besides oysters, which she knew Asie hated. Tomatoes. He ate those, and Sun Moon picked at the slick creatures that came from shells. Funny, she thought. Tibet was as far as you can get on this planet from an ocean, but she liked oysters. Though she wasn’t hungry, eating was a comfort.

  Soon there was nothing to do but go to sleep. How else would the long hours go away? What else could do they do but lie still and listen for friend or enemy?

  She looked at the narrow mattress, the thin blankets. Autumn was cold in the mountains, tonight would be chill in this shaft.

  Asie followed her gaze. “I’ll sleep here,” he said, and lay down with his back to the ledge, his side on the hard stone floor, and his head on his hands for a pillow.

  She smiled tenderly. “Let’s both sleep on the bed,” she said. She reached for his hand. He took it tentatively, searching her eyes. She had to smile. “No, no touching,” she said.

  She showed him. Both fully dressed, on their backs, blankets to the neck, not touching anywhere. She wiggled herself into a more comfortable position and felt him do the same. She took a deep breath, let it out, felt him do the same again. They waited.

  At last she took his hand with hers. “No touching except for this,” she said. “Good night, Asie.”

  She could sense his uncertainty. For a long time neither of them slept, neither moved, neither spoke. The touch of hands felt precious. Tomorrow perhaps I will die. Or Asie will die. Tonight we touch each other in love. She stirred without actually letting her body move. Tonight I cradle the child in my belly.

  At last she felt his body relax and heard his breathing grow long and rhythmic. Then her body softened, and she slept lightly.

  When she woke, she noticed first that their hands were still interlocked. She opened her eyes. The tunnel was not so dark. Not light, but perhaps half of twilight. She thought of the distance to the half-concealed entrance, not far. She listened and heard nothing, absolutely, except for Asie’s breathing. She lay and heeded the silence.

  Keeping hold of his hand, she turned onto her shoulder and looked at Asie. His eyes fluttered. He sighed. He turned toward her, and they looked into each other’s eyes. From this short distance she could see all the colors in his irises, iridescent, brown with flecks of yellow and green. They were very beautiful, in a way a mandala. I have looked into his eyes from so close twice before, she thought. This time is purer, better. The irises pointed to the pupils, which opened to the pure consciousness. In their blackness she felt his inner being.

  She said softly, “I love you, Asie. Whether death comes to me today in Washo, soon in California, or many years from now in Tibet, I will carry my love for you until that day, and cherish it.”

  She saw the movement of the eternal behind his eyes.

  Her lips trembled. In their delicate quiver she could feel words forming. They were, I am carrying your child. Our child.

  I cannot. I cannot. She stilled her lips by force of will.

  I felt giddy and confused. When Sun Moon said, “I love you,” feelings washed over me like warm waves. When she spoke of death, I got the willywoollies. And now she was not saying something. But what?

  I wanted to hear, “I will marry you.” Or, “Come with me to Tibet.” Or just, “I want to be with you.” Or, “Make love to me.”

  But none of those was what I saw in her eyes. I didn’t know what in kingdom come I was seeing.

  Sound!

  I came back to reality with a jolt. Footsteps! I listened to the rhythm, listened to the weight, listened for any clue. Daniel? Or Rockwell? We sat up and looked.

  The steps came toward us, loud-soft, THUD-thud, like DAN-iel, ROCK-well, DAN-iel, ROCK-well. A long, long shadow played crazy-like on the shaft walls. DAN-iel, ROCK-well.

  A tall, ominous shape loomed out of the darkness.

  “Good morning,” came the voice of Gentleman Dan. “It is a fine day to travel.”

  He had two knapsacks dangling from one arm. When I opened the one he gave me, I saw my belongings. First I checked my only weapon—I’d used some of the money to buy me a fine hunting knife in a scabbard, for all the good a knife would do me against the likes of Porter Rockwell. Then I checked for the gold pieces. They were safe in the waistband of my pants and the split leather of my extra belt and the knife scabbard. When you’re on the run, coin of the realm comes in handy.

  There was also a miner’s cap with a candle mounted for light.

  Then I saw, I guess we both saw, that Daniel was eyeing us funny, in bed together, dressed or not. Or maybe it was because I was in my Sunday best and she was in her fancy gown and showy earrings. The bird cages in her hair had fallen off somewhere.

  We turned out of bed in opposite directions. I saw Sun Moon making sure she had her gold coins, too. It was going to be what we got out of our weeks in Washo. A poor trade for getting into Porter Rockwell’s gun sights.

  “The man Rockwell is no braggart,” Daniel said. “I found him at the Heritage still, drinking. He wasn’t inclined to talk much, except to offer a reward for information on your whereabouts. I kept his glass full without getting anything in return.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “Like a comrade,” said Daniel. “He’s a curious case, so dark of soul, so isolated, so miserable.”

  I wasn’t inclined to hear anything made me feel sorry for the Destroying Angel.

  “I did find out he’s been all the way to San Francisco looking for the three of you. He’s determined.”

  “Is he gonna chase down Sir Richard?” I must admit to hoping he would split off on that trail, which was a sorry way to feel.

  Daniel smiled tightly. “Captain Burton is in Chinatown with Tommy Kirk, dallying in lotusland.”

  My heart sank. I’d been holding on to hope that Sir Richard, however disaccommodated he might be, would rally and stand with us.

  “I made sure, in fact,” Daniel went on, “that a scoundrel told Rockwell where Burton is. I also warned Tommy, who has put up a heavy guard. If Rockwell tries to get to Burton, that will be everyone’s good fortune.”

  I’d got past the point where I believed in luck, excepting bad.

  “No tricks work with Rockwell,” said Sun Moon. She’d arranged everything in her knapsack and was closing it. “He come for me. Come, come, come. I know. I must face him.”

  I looked at her woefully. “And?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know how come out. Must face.”

  I guess I looked hangdog at that.

  “Now we go. He catch one day, now we go.”

  We put on our miners’ caps and Daniel lit her candle. I wondered at men who would live their days or nights by such poor light as this. But for now there was nothing for it. Daniel struck a match and extended it toward my head.

  A rock clattered. Just a little rock. Up toward the entrance. Then everything was quiet.

  Sun Moon and I froze. Looked down the shaft, ready to run. Looked at each other and Daniel, still frozen.

  Daniel reached to his underarm and drew out a small pistol. His long, musical fingers folded around it most peculiarly. He glided four or five steps up the shaft, still and subtle as a shadow. He stuck his head around a corner. He looked back at us, his face stricken.

  “It’s my fault,” he whispered. “In my ignorance I led him here.” He hesitated, like swallowing something that tasted terrible. “Run!” He made a shooting motion. “Run!”

  The shaft filled with the roar of gunfire. In that small space it felt like the explosions was in my head, busting my ears.

  Sun Moon
lit out. I tried to do the same, but a bullet buzzing past my ear persuaded me to dive for dirt.

  Daniel came scrambling my way, loosing shots to make Rockwell keep his head down. “Run!” he hollered. I scrambled to my feet and slipped and fell.

  Daniel crab-hopped over to his knapsack and swung it onto his back. “Run!” he yelled.

  I found my feet.

  A shell whacked Daniel, and he sprawled in front of me.

  I pounced on him, thinking to drag him to safety.

  “It just got this!” he bellered in my ear, pointing to the knapsack. “RU-U-U-UN!”

  I did it.

  Then came Rockwell’s yell, the sound of the killer, oozing lust for blood. “Ah-OOOOH-oooh! Rasp-rasp-rasp. A-a-a-anee, anee, anee. Ah-OOOOH-ooooh!”

  Before it sounded awful and awesome, man as beast, raw, primitive, more murderous than any animal. Now it echoed and echoed. I could feel my back hairs slowly curling and uncurling. “Ah-OOOOH-oooh! Rasp-rasp-rasp. A-a-a-anee, anee, anee. Oh-OOOOH-ooooh!”

  The only reason we didn’t get killed right off was Daniel. He hopped from rock to rock and corner to corner and slowed Rockwell down with bullets. Even Rockwell’s flesh was mortal, even his head could get blown off, so he had to play it cagey.

  Right off Sun Moon’s face came back around the first corner, looking for us in the half-light. I realized her candlelight might help us, but it also helped Rockwell—it made her head a wonderful target. For a sorry moment I felt glad mine wasn’t lit.

  “Go!” I hollered, and she did. I followed, hell-bent. From time to time she came to a drift to the left, or a crosscut to the right, and she just scampered whatever way, just like she knew what she was doing.

  What we were doing, in truth, was running toward deeper and darker places.

  A while after we took one left where we mighta gone right, we came to a cave-in. Cornered. My heart dropped into the well and shattered like slate.

  Sun Moon just scampered up top of the pile of rocks, though, found something, and called to me. When I caught up, she pointed, wanting to make sure I spotted the little crevice we were going to slip through. I stuck my head in and saw the blackest black ever there was, black black.

  I thought there was good and bad in it. Bad was, Daniel might not find the hole and get trapped by Rockwell. Good was, Rockwell might not find it and we’d get away. Bad again was, who knew what in stars and cornicles was on the other side? A thousand-foot drop. A pit of snakes. Without Daniel, we’d just wander through these shafts until we died.

  Needful was, take the plunge. Or die right here.

  “Me first,” I said.

  I squeezed through the hole feet-first. My toes found rocks aplenty. The slide felt no steeper on this side than the other. I drew my trunk through the hole and stood near upright, propped on my hands.

  Big rumble coming at me, that’s how it started. Strange, it didn’t get louder, it got whispier, and it whirled at my face in the dark. A thousand flutters circled my head. Desperate, I flung up my arms and waved them wildly. Odd anythings brushed at my fingers.

  I nearly strangled myself on my own scream, but I held it back.

  Sun Moon came through the crevice with her candle, and I saw them flying away. I realized, and whispered to Sun Moon, “Bats.”

  She stumbled and crashed into me. We went down in a tangle. Points of rock jumped out and stuck me.

  “Are you OK?” says I. I fumbled and finally got to my feet by pushing on rocks, not her body.

  “Yes.” When I looked for her face, I realized. Her candle was out. “I’ve lost my cap,” she said.

  We found it in a jiffy, but we couldn’t get the light back. We’d run off without any matches.

  I can’t say I got the cajoolies or the willywoollies then, because that wouldn’t cover the case. Fear felt like a million tadpoles swimming up and down my back, flicking my spine with their tails.

  I took my heart in my hands. Sun Moon needed me now. So I began to work my way down, hands and feet, backing through darkness toward wherever the bottom might be. I could sense more than hear her coming down above me.

  Sometimes the rock felt wet, and I didn’t like that. I would write songs to open spaces, dry air, and sunlight, not to any damp grottos nor dark catacombs nor such like. Besides, wet makes you slip.

  When I got to what felt like the bottom—the rock pile was getting level—I began to feel the water. First I thought I sensed the water, then I felt it for sure, then I was up to my ankles in it. It was cold.

  Fine, ankle-deep here, but what about there?

  The darkness swallowed me up. What folks call dark isn’t dark. I can see well enough to walk cross-country most any night. Even new-moon night isn’t all the way dark. Nor is under the covers. Caves and mine shafts a hundred feet down and eleventy-nine crooks into the earth, those are dark.

  For a second I had the crazy notion that there wasn’t any me, nor Sun Moon, but just a blackness bigger than anybody ever imagined. Maybe I could swim off into it, and it would be like fog, and I would be fog, and … I felt of my body to find something solid, chest, hips, face, but still wasn’t absolutely sure.

  “We must go!” whispered Sun Moon fiercely.

  So I started feeling my way across with my toes. Didn’t have no notion of how deep this cold water might be, nor how far across nor wide.

  I eased one foot out, felt for solid earth underneath the water, and then shifted forward. Did it again. Did it, stumbled—FELL!

  Both knees into the water hard, getting cut. One elbow smashed into the rocky bottom and hollered out its hurt. One hand forward … onto a rocky slant.

  I felt with both hands. Sweet gizzards, dry ground to step up onto. After only a dozen steps in the cold, black water! Relief, relief. My hands and arms went from tense to fluttery.

  I reached out into the dark, got some handholds, pulled myself out of the water, cocked a leg onto the rocks, stood up, and put my hands onto the top of the rock pile.

  I leaned on my hands, shifted one to take weight, and put it onto … PURE SQUISH!

  I leapt back and tottered toward the water crying, “A-a-a-gh,” trying to throttle my bellow of horror.

  I hit the water full on my back, then the rocks just under the surface. Felt like a hundred hammers giving me a sharp WHACK! at once.

  I jumped up, looked at my squishy-feeling hand, saw nothing, rubbed it on my pants, which did no good, and finally dunked it in the water and washed it.

  Sun Moon touched my shoulder gently, wanting to know what happened. “I put my hand into something awful, awful squishy,” I says. “It scared me.” Now I felt like a fool.

  “Maybe a … What you call them? Snail without shell?”

  “Slug,” I agreed. Maybe so.

  Suddenly light appeared.

  It beamed from the vicinity of the crevice we came through. A candle, I saw, surely on a miner’s cap. Though it didn’t shed a world of light, it shone on Daniel’s face beneath the flame beautifully.

  He picked up Sun Moon’s cap, climbed down to us in silence, waded through the water, and said softly, “Let there be light.” He fished in his knapsack and gave us each matches. We lit each other’s caps. I wondered how many more miracles were in that knapsack. “Rest awhile. From that hole I can hold him off forever.”

  Daniel mounted the rock pile again, took off the miner’s hat, and set it, candle still burning, in the hole. Bait for Rockwell.

  Daniel found another crevice, just big enough for his arm and a line of sight, sat next to it, and stuck the hand with the pistol through.

  Sun Moon slipped half-behind some rocks and started changing clothes. I realized this was a devil of an idea and did the same. I got rid of the party clothes for everyday stuff and put on all my hidden treasures—coins in waistband, belt, and scabbard, and the knife itself, which right now had more use than gold. Though neither had any at all.

  Sun Moon came out without that fancy gown, back in her Chinese jacket and pa
nts.

  I smiled at her, she smiled at me. We held hands for a second or two, feeling close. The candles made the place seem right homey, considering it was a big, wet, dark hole in the ground.

  Then I stretched out in a half-comfortable sort of way on the rock pile. I’d been scared till my skin turned inside out, and that is exhausting.

  I rested. I think I may even have dozed off.

  CLAP-CRASH-BOOM!

  The noise blasted me straight into the air. First thing I saw was that candle skittering down the rock pile. Rockwell had shot Dan’s cap, and it flew into the water.

  Dan fired into the blackness, shooting at Rockwell’s muzzle flashes.

  Rockwell fired back with a heavier caliber, CLAP-CRASH-BOOM-SKIDDED-CRACK-WHEE! That din was the closest thing to hell I ever hope to know.

  Sun Moon took off down the shaft. She seemed to have a certain poise and calm in her running. Myself, I felt shambly as hell, dogging along behind. At least the thunder didn’t seem quite as close, and my legs didn’t want to crow-hop sideways on every boom. By my candle I could half see where I was going, and could see Sun Moon bobbing along ahead.

  She took a left, took a right, ran wherever instinct told her. Right quick, though, we ran straight into another cave-in, and you could see this one wasn’t a go, it was wall-to-wall rockjam.

  Suddenly I noticed that the booming had stopped. The armed ones had stopped shooting at each other. Which meant Daniel was on his way here, and Rockwell would be following.

  Now we had to walk back up the shaft, straight toward Porter Rockwell.

  Sun Moon did a whirl-around. She doused her candle, and I did the same. Then she headed right back up the tunnel. Stars and cornicles, I says to myself, she has no fear. I looked at her shadowy back and behind, strutting right back toward Rockwell, and decided I’d rather die with her than cower behind a rock and wait.

  At the first corner we came on Daniel, wearing his light. He jerked his arm hard back up tunnel, like, Hurry up, dammit.

  We ran to the next corner and crouched behind him. He opened his mouth to speak but it was Rockwell’s voice boomed out. “Miss Sun Moon, Sister Sun Moon, Your Holiness Sun Moon. You have come to a caved-in shaft.”