“Oh.” He doesn’t seem surprised, or maybe he is too weak to be surprised. “Where is everyone?” he says slowly.
I take a deep breath. “Dad and Sean—he’s one of Vandermill’s guys who is now on our side—are waiting up by the helicopter.”
“Helicopter. I thought I heard one.”
“Vandermill’s. It’s ours now. Vandermill is dead and nearly all his men.”
He stares at me. He’s waiting because I haven’t mentioned my mom. I can see it in his head. He wants to know. I had put her out of my mind in the process of hiking to the helicopter and then dragging the stretcher down to here. Now he is making me think about it. I can’t fight back the tears. They burst out of me like a broken faucet. “Mom’s dead.”
I turn away, not wanting him to see my tears. I have the rope rigged up around Roma’s massive neck and shoulders, with the ends running down each side. I stand for a minute scratching behind his ears like he’s a house cat, until I bring myself under control. I wipe my face on my sleeve and then start attaching the rope to the stretcher.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Thank you. I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Yeah.”
There is little more said until he is on the stretcher with one blanket under him, and the other tightly tucked around him. He winces when I pull the straps around his chest.
“Sorry,” I say. I loosen it. When all looks ready, I say, “Going to be a rough ride. We’ll go slow.”
“Okay.”
I hook my fingers under the rope around Roma’s shoulders and pull. “Let’s go big boy.”
Zach
Once Sean had his knee wrapped in strips of something that looked like a Hawaiian shirt, which he found in the helicopter, he wanted to go check on Nick and Lester. He almost turned around and came back after getting only twenty feet away. Nadia had come to her feet and started following him. He had looked at me for advice or assurance. All I could do was raise my shoulders at him. He turned in circles several times with the aid of his walking stick, seemed to reason with the cat for a few seconds and then went on. Nadia tagged along.
It’s been a long time since Becky left, but not too long since Sean disappeared into the mountain. I consider going to see if he needs assistance, but I’ve managed to find a position where the pain and discomfort are minimal. A warm sun seems to send healing signals throughout my body. Whether it really is or not, it sure feels good.
I think about my daughter, who despite only seventeen years, is no longer a child; a teenager in years only. She is a woman, an adult by all experiences just in the last two days.
And she is . . .
. . . what?
What was the title I thought of for Aileen after my conversation with Brian about the spirit that would return to take back the land, and then again after I first learned of her power over the sabre-toothed cats?
The Spirit of Smilodon. I kept expecting her to fade into the trees like an apparition or a phantasm.
Is that what she is now? A spirit?
No. Spirits, if they exist, are ghosts, supernatural beings; not of flesh and bone, incorporeal as such. They are something which may or may not be perceived by any or all of the five senses, and then distorted to be presented in a manner believed to be a product only of some sixth sense.
What am I thinking? Becky is of flesh and bone. So was Aileen. She might be a spirit now, but she wasn’t before. She simply had some unbelievable psychic power, which Becky now has. Thinking about Aileen brings me to thinking about Tanya, and suddenly the pleasant warmth of the sun becomes cold. I feel guilty because it took the thought of Aileen to bring Tanya to mind.
I’m sorry! Aileen is nothing. I love you Tanya. And that is the truth. It was tempting, I admit, when Aileen came on to me, but once I managed to overcome the animal urge, I realized that was all it was. There was no other desire, and from then on, no urge at all. Maybe in those few minutes when she straddled my lap, I saw what she really was, and I saw myself. She was an animal on a path down which I didn’t want to travel.
I never got a chance to tell that to Tanya, that Aileen was nothing to me, that . . .
. . . that I made a choice and the choice was you? Something about that doesn’t feel right. It was never a choice, Tanya, honest. It was an animal temptation, a battle I’m sure all men have to fight against once or a number of times in their lives. I fought it, Tanya. I lost it eight years ago, but this time I won; I won because I love you. I’ll always love you. I’ll never give in to temptation again.
I have to go in to see where Tanya is, get as close as I can to where she is buried. I get to my feet and begin slowly walking toward the entrance to the tomb. By the time I push through and duck under the trees and bushes, I’m on the edge of frantic, battling against a sudden need to get there as fast as possible. Leaving the bright of day throws my only eye into virtual darkness. I trip over something and fall. I have the presence of mind to turn to protect my bad arm, but instead of landing on hard rock and dirt, I land on something much softer. It is a human body, gone cold. I scramble up against the wall, pull my knees in close to my body and take several panic recovery breaths. When finally my eye adjusts I see, even in the gloom, that the body is that of Nick. I look deeper into the tunnel. Sean is near the top of the rise. His silhouette is moving back and forth. I get back to my feet and head in that direction.
I step around Sammy—another of Becky’s victims—feel the bump alongside my head where he struck me, and continue on to where Sean is moving rocks. Lester is lying where I last saw him, only now there’s a huge boulder resting on his hand. He looks up at me, shock and pain evident on his beard-covered face. Sean is brushing the ground behind the boulder in preparation, it appears, to attempt to push it up and off of Lester’s hand. I don’t think it’ll work. I walk on past, intent on my initial mission.
Other than a few places, the tunnel is in fair shape. The worst seemed to be the boulder that fell on Lester. For some crazy reason I gain hope that that is the worst that happened to Tanya, and that she’s lying there waiting to be rescued. I try to remind myself that she was but ten feet from ground zero. Still, I move forward on the crazy thought.
I look out through the place where water used to fall. Daylight pours in and I think about the fact that the three of us went flying through that hole receiving nothing more than one banged up knee. A miracle for sure. I put my back to the daylight and step up to look across the cavern. It has changed dimension. Two walls have expanded out; their contents now fill the entire cavern floor, fifteen or twenty feet high. There is still the sound of the waterfall, but now it is coming from within. I step in a little farther and see that whatever creek fed the exterior waterfall, now feeds an internal waterfall from above. There is actually a little light coming in from where the creek enters. The cavern temperature has dropped by a good ten degrees.
I stand for a time, staring at the cascading water, wondering how long it’ll take the cavern to fill, where it will flow out, when suddenly I sense a movement off to my left. My heart races as I whip lash to look. Where did it, she go? Has to be she but I don’t see anyone. Was it a figment of my wishful, hopeful mind? I scan the rocks and boulders, walk farther in and stand looking, hoping. There are so many dark areas that aren’t reached by the daylight, especially with all the newly fallen rocks. Maybe she is there, hurt, not realizing that I am here, not thinking to call out, and me with no ability to call to her.
I pick up a stone and walk up to a freshly placed boulder. I strike it with the stone. It doesn’t make all that much noise, hardly audible above the falling water. I aim at a likely place in the direction I saw movement and throw the fist-size stone. It hits a boulder, bounces off another, and then skitters to a stop.
I see movement again, in the shadows. I run down the path as far as I can go before having to scramble over huge rocks. I stop to catch my breath, gain a sense of the path I need to take to get to where I saw her, and then spot the
movement once more.
And then . . . I see her.
Chapter 76
Reba
When I arrive back at the helicopter, no one is around. Although I’m perplexed, I take the time to disconnect the stretcher from Roma. The ride was not easy on Matt. Each time that he cried out in pain we stopped for about a minute. It was hard to find smooth paths, and too many times had to drag the stretcher across fallen trees. I was able to catch the end a few times to provide a non-jolting drop, but I was as many times not successful or not quick enough.
“Sorry, Matt,” I say as I brush my hand across his brow. He cannot answer through his gritting teeth. “We’re going to get you to a hospital as soon as we can. I’ve got to find Dad.”
I look around inside the helicopter and find a half bottle of water in the cockpit. I give it to him and tell him I’ll be right back. “Stay, Roma,” I say to the big cat and head for the tunnel into the mountain, the only place I can imagine they went.
Inside, I have to wait for a few minutes in order for my eyes to adjust. I spot Nick’s body just before I step on him, catch my scream in my throat, and then head for Sean’s voice and his silhouette. When I get there, after nearly tripping over Baldy’s body, I find that Black Beard’s hand is trapped underneath a boulder. “What’re you doing?” I ask Sean.
He has a sharp rock and is using it like a pick against the rock hard ground on the upper side of the boulder. He stops and looks at me. “Trying to get this thing off of him.” He is breathing hard from his labor. I look at what he’s accomplished, and the size of the boulder, and decide he’s going to be here for hours, if not days.
“Where’s Dad?”
He points deeper into the tunnel. I leave him.
“Dad?” I call. There is no answer. Sounds I hear ahead are the same, yet different. I know the waterfall is no more, but yet I still hear its roar, except now the sound is contained; sort of like in a barrel, but in a giant way. When I reach the opening into the cavern, I see why. Water falls through a skylight, broken up by a ragged hole, and smashing itself onto the floor of rocks below. It’s like something I’d see on television, a Raiders of the Lost Ark kind of thing. It’s eerie.
“Dad?” I call again, this time remembering that he cannot answer me. And then I see him. What is he doing? He can’t be looking for Mom here, can he? Dad!
He turns and looks at me.
What are you doing?
I thought I saw your mother.
I start to tell him that’s impossible. What was it? I ask instead.
Nadia.
I look deeper in the shadows and see Nadia moving around the piles of fallen rock. Is she looking for Sam, her fallen master, or trying to figure out what happened to her home?
Come on, Dad. We need to help Sean and then get out of here. Matt is pretty bad.
He doesn’t answer, but does pick his way back to me. When he is by my side he turns and looks across where Mom is buried, maybe directly below where the water beats upon the rocks. How deep will it get in here before the water flows out? An interior lake.
I put up the wall between Dad and me so that I don’t have to hear whatever it is he’s thinking, and so that he doesn’t hear what I’m thinking.
I’m sorry, Mom. I love you.
That’s it. That’s all there is to say. Anything else is getting wordy.
Oh! I’ll tell Christi that the last thing you said was that you loved her.
I turn away, and Dad comes with me.
Three of us cannot move the boulder, but I’m certain Roma can. I fetch him and the rope, and in five minutes Black Beard is free, three of his fingers crushed and mangled. He doesn’t look at me, but does watch Roma with a high level of fear and respect. I go out ahead, picking up Baldy’s and Nick’s automatic weapons. By the time they get to the helicopter, I’ve had Matt show me how to unload them, and then I hide them away, the magazines separate from the guns. When Black Beard arrives, he rushes straight in and sits in the farthest back corner. I look about and see why. Five of the sabre-toothed cats are watching. Other than using Roma as a tow truck, I’d not been paying much attention to them. I have a feeling they’d be closer to me, but they are leery of the men. A strange breed of animal they are who land in a strange world and rely on a human for guidance.
While dad sits in the cockpit and analyzes the controls, Sean and I get Matt loaded in and strapped down. When I’m done I close the door, and climb into the seat next to Dad. Are you going to be able to fly this? I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He’s focused on trying to figure out the controls, trying to remember. I watch him for a time, fiddling with this knob and that button until he says, I think so. It’s a bit different from what I remember, but basically . . .
There is something else. He looks nervous; several beads of sweat stand out on his forehead. One suddenly slides and then hangs on the end of his eye lash. He doesn’t notice.
What I’m afraid of is . . .
What? I demand. Is there not enough fuel? Is there a hydraulic thing leaking or something?
No . . . no. It’s nothing like that, nothing so easy.
Easy?
It’s the height. I ah . . . you saw me on the hike. My fear.
But this is flying. It’s not like standing on a cliff edge.
A helicopter is not the same as a fixed wing, especially a big fixed wing, like a commercial airliner. My fear has gotten worse over the years, as though my two crashes have been gradually settling into my subconscious. I’m not feeling very comfortable right now.
We won’t crash. I’d know it already if we were going to. I have the power remember. I’m not seeing or feeling anything.
He looks at me. My rationalization doesn’t work. And if we don’t get Matt to a hospital, he will probably die.
That works. He does something and the huge blades start turning. I look out beyond the tips of the blades and see the cats are running toward the forest. They stop at the edge and look back. Wait, I say. I’ve got to go say goodbye to them. Without waiting for acknowledgement, I get out, duck below the blades and run to them. When I get there I see that they are all present. The two hunters, Vadik and Gosha, step from the shadows of the trees. There is a huge animal, an elk maybe, lying in the shade; probably not a full meal for all the kitties, but still a nice midday snack.
They all surround me; seven sabre-toothed cats, each six or seven times my weight, with sabre teeth nearly as long as my forearm. I need to tell them to stay hidden. People bad! I look at the elk. Elk good! I make pictures of bear, deer, moose, cougars, rabbits, beavers, any wild animal I can think of and attach a good feeling. I then picture people and say, “Bad!” Bad!
There is still a home for them inside the mountain. I start to form that picture and indicate it is good, and then think of the fact that there will be law enforcement here very soon, and then the FBI. I don’t know where to tell them to go, where to hide.
“Helicopter,” I say. “Real bad!” I send the message with the picture. I have no idea if they understand any of what I just told them. There is nothing more I can do. I rub each of their heads and scratch behind ears. Nadia is the first to walk away, toward the kill. Vadik goes with her. I wonder if he is the father of her babies?
I step away. Yulya, Edik, Gosha and Tricia remain, but Roma starts to go with me. In the trip to get Matt we had bonded somehow. Halfway to the bird and its noisy, rotating blades, Roma stops. “It’s okay, boy,” I say, giving his huge head a hug. “Whatever you guys do, don’t kill any more people.” I remember what Sam said about the ages of them, that they are old when they’re born, that the species is doomed to extinction. How old will Nadia’s kittens be? How many years are there left for them?
“I’ll be back someday,” I say to Roma. I give him one last pat and then turn and run for the helicopter, ducking below the slicing blades. Sean, crouched in the door, has been watching since I stepped out. He helps me in and I see Black Beard’s big, white eyes in the dark cor
ner. He was able to see my interaction with the cats as well. Sean has a high level of respect for me. Black Beard is afraid of me. I’d give him an evil grin, just for fun, but I’m not in the grinning and funning mood.
I slip back into the seat next to Dad and buckle. We ready? I ask him.
I hope so. The speed of rotation of the blades increases and we lift twenty or thirty feet off the ground. We drop back down.
What’s the matter?
Just getting the feel, Dad says. Make sure I can do this with one arm . . . and that I can handle the height.
All the time I talked to and mingled with the sabre-toothed cats, I thought about the fact that we were flying away from Mom; the leading edge of the finality of her death was creeping into my conscious side. Now my mind goes all the way back to when I put the letter in the mailbox and then quietly slipped away in the dark of the morning, on to some great adventure in Montana.
We rise again until we’re hovering about thirty feet above the ground, and then turn the full compass before settling back down. Dad has control. We’ll be fine.
I think again, all the way back to when I left? That was only five days ago. Whatever adventure I was looking for, this sure wasn’t it. I just wanted to see Smilodon for myself, to know in my own mind that Dad wasn’t crazy. Not only did I confirm that he’s not crazy, but I also confirmed that I’m not crazy just like him.
We lift from the ground again, straight up, not stopping until we’re well above the trees. Dad’s right. This isn’t like being in a huge fixed wing plane. Wow! I love it. I wonder if Mom ever flew in a helicopter. Of course she did. That was the only way in and out of Sans Sanssabre.
I look over at Dad. He’s still sweating, his hand white-knuckled on the control, but instead of going back down, we rise some more, and pretty soon we’re above everything. For a time I see nothing but trees in all directions, and then there are roads in the distance, and a huge lake.
Is that Flathead Lake, I ask.
Yes. There is tension in Dad’s mind, but it does seem that he is relaxing a little. We tilt forward and I look North. In an open area between huge acreage of trees I see some figures, five persons hiking, and then the green forests start slipping by, faster and faster; mountain peaks are all around us. It can’t be more than five minutes before we rise across the top of the mountain in front of us, and it suddenly drops away into patches of farm and ranch land, cut in half by a highway. There are cars on the highway as we approach and then pass over; regular people doing regular things. It feels like forever since I’ve been there.
Sabre-Toothed Cat Trilogy Page 87