Chapter 17

 

ABOUT THIRTY YARDS behind the shack, the forest curved to meet the mountain, a blending of vegetation and rock, of the ephemeral springing from the bones of the earth. We paused, hunting for the second ribbon. Cathy spotted it, pointing out the strip of cloth tied around a huckleberry bush. The foliage was dense, and I found it difficult to believe Cathy would willingly crawl through the branches and fronds.

“You’re actually prepared to wade through this?”

She eyed the vegetation, looking apprehensive. “I didn’t know it would be so thick. But I want to see that cave. George was there, and I want to know what happened.”

“The cops will be out here poking around in the next day or so. You could just wait for them.”

Raising one eyebrow, she gave me an incredulous look. “I don’t trust the cops any more than you trust the media.”

“This time I side with the cops,” I muttered. Cathy was up to something, I was sure of it. While she really did seem to care about her cousin, it was hard for me to believe that she didn’t have an ulterior motive sneaking around in that bleach-blonde brain of hers. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for more dirt for some news story?”

She planted herself in front of me. “Listen Emerald, you have a tidy little life. You’ve got your shop and your local celebrity status and your kids and your boyfriend and your house. Me? I’ve got squat. I have a lousy job at a cut-rate television station. I make half of what I could in a different city. Would I like to get a good story out of this? Sure, if that happens to be part of the fallout. But this is my cousin’s life we’re talking about. He’s sitting in jail right now, facing a charge for a murder he didn’t commit. We’re out here to help George. I thought that’s what mattered to you.”

I sighed. Cathy would never be anything more than a two-bit anchorwoman, and she’d probably be stuck in Bellingham till the day she died. However, as much as I hated to admit it, she seemed sincere and she was right about George. He might be a little weasel, but I’d be a pathetic excuse for a human being if I sat around and let him get railroaded for a crime he didn’t commit.

“Either you come with me, or I go on alone.” Cathy pointed toward the strip of cloth. “One way or another, I’m going to find that cave.”

Once again, the image of the Death card flashed in my mind and a feeling of dread swept over me. Cathy was heading to her doom if she went into those woods alone. I could either go with her, try to stop whatever was lying in wait, or I could stand back and watch her walk right into the hand of fate. Did the fact that I disliked her mean that she deserved to die?

“Let me take the lead,” I said gruffly. She swung in behind me and, with a deep breath, I plunged into the overgrowth, past the ribbon. As I fought my way through the ferns and berries and salal, the smell of deep woods filtered into my lungs and it hit me that we really were isolated. A scream from here probably wouldn’t reach the bikers in the encampment. Great. If we did run into an emergency, we were on our own, at least until Jimbo hightailed his butt over here.

“What’s wrong?” Cathy bumped up against me, knocking me against a cedar that stood directly in my path. The makeshift trail wound around the tree, hugging the fragrant trunk.

I rubbed my arm where the bark had scratched me. “I don’t like this. I still think we should wait for Jimbo.”

“We’ll wait outside the cave and if he doesn’t show up, we’ll come back. I promise I won’t ask you to go in there without him.”

Not sure how much a promise from her really meant, I sighed. “All right, but at the first sign of trouble, we turn around.”

As we stumbled over leaf and branch, I saw another marker tied to a branch up ahead. Okay, so George had come this far. I turned in that direction. The ground was growing spongy, with moss-covered rocks littering the path. One slip could mean a twisted ankle. I held up my hand for Cathy to stop.

“We need a couple of sturdy walking sticks to help us maneuver around these rocks without breaking our necks.” I looked around; there were plenty of windfalls here and it was easy to come up with a couple of broken limbs from one of the downed firs. I sat down on a fallen log and motioned for Cathy to join me. She gingerly settled onto the moss-and-mushroom-covered log.

“Strip some of this bark off, at least enough to make sure the wood inside isn’t rotten. That will give you a better handhold, too.”

I began peeling away the wet bark. If the branches were too dry, we wouldn’t have been able to do this, but even in the midst of a warm and sunny summer, the inner sanctum of western Washington’s forests were usually moist. A sour smell drifted up. Yep, mildew, but not deep enough to rot through the core yet. I tapped the branch on the ground, and then leaned on it. Good. Sturdy enough to support my weight. I sat back down, waiting for Cathy to finish.

“Damn it, I’m going to break a nail,” she said.

“Better than breaking your leg.”

She glanced at me, but didn’t answer. After a few minutes, she’d managed to strip off enough bark to give herself a firm grip. I motioned for her to shadow me as we followed the ribbons, picking our way through the pebbles and rocks and broken branches that littered the ground. The entire world seemed to be composed of a kaleidoscope of leaves and fern fronds and overhanging branches. At our current vantage point, we couldn’t see the shack or the meadow, and I was grateful that I’d brought my cell phone. I plunged out from a dense stand of fern and vine maple and found myself standing face-to-face with Klickavail Mountain.

To our right, up a graduated slope on the mountainside, a ragged ribbon marked a thicket of mountain ash. The trees sported a tinge of color edging the unending green of the leaves—the first hints of autumn. Dense clusters of red berries dangled from the branches like ornaments. We picked our way up the slope until the cliff face of Klickavail Mountain soared directly in front of us. To our right, shaded by dense undergrowth, a hole had been gouged into the side of the mountain.

I hesitantly moved toward the opening. “George’s cave?” I asked, pushing back the branches so we could see better.

The entrance was uniform, about seven feet tall, and its gentle gradient sloped downhill. The ground in front of the opening was covered with moss and mulch, springy to the touch.

Cathy eyed the entrance nervously. “On the phone, George said he saw bats circling around here. Do you think they’re in there?”

I strained to remember what Murray had tried to teach me about bats one lazy evening when we’d been discussing favorite critters. “Maybe, though it seems a little early for them to go into hibernation. They swarm during August, though, usually for mating. Maybe they roost here in the winter? I think Murray said they hibernate.”

“Hibernate? Bats hibernate? You just know about all sorts of creepy things, don’t you?”

“I didn’t come here to be insulted. Do you want my help or not?”

Cathy sighed. “Yeah, yeah… sorry. Well, let’s go.” She started to push past me toward the cave entrance, but I stopped her.

“You promised to wait for Jimbo.” I knelt down and slid the backpack off my shoulders, fishing out the flashlight, as well as my cell phone which I flipped open. I managed to get enough of a signal to punch in Jimbo’s number, but there was no answer. Where the hell was he? I clipped the phone on my belt.

As I was fastening my pack, I noticed several splintered pieces of wood poking up through the mossy carpet. I tugged at one, finally encouraging it to slide out of its spongy womb. Déjà vu. I stared at the splintered wood, trying to conjure up just what it reminded me of.

“Hmm… what does this look like to you?”

“Paul Bunyan’s toothpick?” She snickered and, my train of thought disrupted, I tossed the foot-long sliver aside.

“Did anyone ever tell you just how helpful you are, Cathy?”

She let out an impatient sigh. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“So am I, but we aren’t going in until Jimbo gets here.”

Just then, a low growl emanated from within the stand of mountain ash. I whirled, my skin crawling as the sound echoed through the trees.

“What’s that?” Cathy straightened, her eyes growing wild.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Could be a bear, or cougar, or maybe…” I didn’t want to scare her but there was another possibility that was creeping through my mind and I really hoped I was wrong.

“Just say it—you know you’re thinking it. Maybe that thing is the Klakatat Monster!” Cathy frantically looked around for an escape. Just then, a loud shriek reverberated out of the tree stand and the bushes began to rustle. Something was headed our way.

“Oh shit, what’s that?” Cathy began to back up toward the cave.

“Stop—if you run and it’s a cougar, it’ll come right for you!”

But my words evaporated as a muster of crows, startled by the noise, launched out of the trees. There must have been fifty of them, at least, and their wings glistened in the light as they swooped in Cathy’s direction. She just had time to scream before they were sweeping past, cawing wildly. Flailing to keep them away from her head, she plunged into the mine.

“Cathy! Wait!” Even as I shouted, she disappeared into the gloom.

Oh hell, now what was I going to do? The rustling sound paused and I had the distinct feeling something was watching me. Cougar, bear, or monster, the choices weren’t pretty. I stood stock still, remembering that bears couldn’t see very well. As I’d warned Cathy, cougars would chase a running target quicker than one who held its ground. I had no idea what the Klakatat Monster might do, and I hoped to hell that I wasn’t about to find out.

I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and punched in Jimbo’s number again. Still no answer. I tried calling Murray, but she was away from her desk, too. The signal wavered, but I managed to leave messages for both of them. Cautiously, I eyed the mouth of the cave again, hoping Cathy would emerge before whatever was in the bushes decided to show itself.

Taking precise, even steps, keeping my back toward the cave, I edged closer to the side of the mountain. If my voyeur was sneaking around to come up from me on the other side, I wanted to be able to see it when it came out of hiding. As I debated what to do next, a woman’s scream ricocheted out of the cavern. Oh shit!

I sidled over to the entrance and called out, “Cathy? Cathy? Are you all right?” No answer. I tried again. “Cathy!” Still nothing. What should I do? She could be dying for all I knew. She might have cut herself, might be bleeding to death. Or maybe there was something in there that was bent on hurting her?

The bushes rustled again and a low growl echoed out of the trees. I made the only choice I could and headed for the cave. Once I was standing just inside the entrance, I fumbled for my flashlight. Yep, the floor sloped down at an angle, though not as steep as I’d feared. Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead, light held low to the ground. If there were bats hanging around topside, they wouldn’t appreciate an eyeful of light in the middle of their slumber.

The cavern turned out to be a tunnel. I flashed the light to the sides, not knowing what to expect. The rock wasn’t glowing with phosphorescence like it had in Journey to the Center of the Earth, and it wasn’t covered with a mass of creepy-crawlers like in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. There were a few bugs here and there that I could see in the halo of my flashlight, but I wasn’t in danger of falling into a mass of scuttling centipedes, at least.

“Cathy?” I called softly. Caves and rock slides went hand in hand, especially here in the Pacific Northwest where the mountains were always on the move. No answer. If she was screwing with me, I’d smack her a good one after we got out of here alive.

I cautiously tapped my way along, holding the light in one hand, my walking stick in the other, and tossing an occasional glance behind me to make sure I wasn’t being followed. The tunnel was narrow, and at first the air was dry, but as I slowly descended farther into the passageway, it began to take on the faint tang of trapped moisture. At least fifty yards long, the channel seemed to swallow me up like a giant worm as I inched my way along. Finally, I came to the end, where it opened into a larger chamber. I stopped to assess my position.

As I strained to hear something—anything—I glanced at the wall. What the—? I leaned in close to examine a square wooden beam that was leaning against the bedrock. It looked like a girder of some sort. Now how had that gotten in here? Oh wait—oh no! Not good. Not good at all.

The rock was covered with angular surfaces, as if bits here and there had been chiseled away. I took another look at the wooden beam and began to hyperventilate. Oh shit, we weren’t in a cave! We were in an old adit—a mining tunnel. The supporting timbers at the mouth of the tunnel had probably rotted away or were hauled off for firewood or something. That sliver of wood I’d found at the entrance had probably been part of one of those beams.

Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Just find Cathy and get the hell out of here. Everybody who lived near the mountains knew how dangerous abandoned mine shafts were. And adits, the passages leading into the mines, were just as deadly. The deserted tunnels were often shored up with untreated wood that had rotted away over the years. Being near the Cascades meant that the rocks surrounding the mines were easily destabilized thanks to the multitude of tiny earthquakes that rumbled through the volcanic range on a regular basis.

“Cathy?” I stepped just inside the larger chamber and almost stumbled into a sinkhole. “Shit!”

“Emerald, is that you?” A faint voice echoed from below. I shone my light down the hole and sure enough, there was Cathy, about ten feet below me.

“Cathy, are you okay?” Thinking that the ground here might be unstable, I sprawled face down, like kids were taught to do who went ice skating on ponds. “Can you get out of there?”

Her voice was muffled, for some reason it wasn’t echoing out of the chamber. “If I had something to hold on to, I could walk my way up the walls.”

I slipped off my pack, thanking my foresight, and pulled out the rope, then belayed it around my waist. “I’m dropping a rope to you, but I can’t support you completely.” I flickered the light down to her and she caught hold of the end of the rope. “I’m going to have to set the light down,” I called to her. “I can’t guide the rope and hold it at the same time. You have to come up in the dark.”

“Let me know when.” Her voice was definitely muted. The tunnel had formed some sort of sound vortex, like a black hole.

I made sure I had the rope firmly cinched, then braced myself in a sitting position, doing my best to dig my heels into the floor. “Get up here now.”

Cathy’s weight startled me. For such a petite woman, she was pretty hefty. But I was even more surprised by her dexterity. I wouldn’t have thought her capable of it, but she was actually walking up the walls, pressing her back against one side of the hole with her feet against the other. Within just a few moments, she’d scaled the sinkhole and was climbing over the side.

I let go of the rope and grabbed her arm, pulling her to safe ground. “Can you stand up? Are you okay?” Please, oh please, don’t let her be hurt. I didn’t have the strength to drag her all the way back to the car.

She coughed and pushed herself to her knees. “Yeah, I’m just covered in crap… mold, I guess. And I’m bruised up, but at least I didn’t break any bones. I didn’t see the hole and went down so fast I didn’t have time to tense up.”

I flashed the light on her face and she blinked. A few scratches, a lot of dirt. Nothing major. “Cathy, we have to get out of here pronto. We’re in an old mining tunnel.”

“Oh hell.” The look on her face told me I wouldn’t be getting any argument from her on this one. As we scrambled to our feet, a faint rumbling reverberated through the shaft as the floor began to vibrate. Uh oh, I knew what that was.

I pushed her back into the tunnel. “Cave-in! Run!”

We raced for the entrance, but before we could make it even halfway, the rumbling turned to thunder as a cloud of dust and debris plummeted down from the ceiling. I swung her around.

“Back into the other chamber! And don’t fall in that sinkhole again!”

As we stumbled through the archway, we covered our faces, trying to protect our lungs from the dust cloud that boiled through the passage. I skidded to a halt and pressed my back against the wall, eyes closed tightly, not caring what might be lurking around. Please, oh please, let the debris stop falling. If only I’d been able to recognize the abandoned mine for what it was, I never would have set foot in the tunnel. I’d have waited for help. Jimbo would have known what it was right away. Damn it, why had he been late? Why did Cathy have to run into the cave instead of away from it?

As the rumbling slowly died, all we could hear was a trickle of pebbles as they finished their freefall to the tunnel floor.

Cathy shuddered next to me. “Are we trapped?” She sounded on the verge of panic but she was managing to keep it together, I gave her that much.

Petrified I might set off another cave-in, I motioned for her to stay where she was and cautiously peeked around the corner. My flashlight couldn’t possibly show us how bad it was, so I turned it off and looked for any sign of sunlight coming in from the mouth of the tunnel.

There—faint and near the ceiling—a shaft of light. It penetrated the darkness like a ray of hope, but the area around the mouth was terribly unstable. One wrong move, one more loud noise, might send the rest of the mine down on our heads. I doubted that we could clear away enough rubble to escape without bringing even more down to bury us.

“We’ve got air, but I don’t think we can go back that way. It’s too risky.” I whispered.

“Your cell phone! Call for help.”

I shushed her. “Lower your voice, damn it. You have to speak softly. It was probably your scream that got us into this mess. Cave-ins are like avalanches—any vibration or noise can trigger them.” I unclipped my cell phone from my belt but had the feeling we were out of luck. I punched the On button and waited. Yep. As I thought, nothing.

“I can’t raise a signal down here.” Furious, I whirled on her, keeping my voice low. “The only good thing about this situation is that whatever was stalking us outside can’t get in through the mouth of the tunnel. Now you listen and listen good. I told you this before and you ignored me. From now on, you either do exactly as I say, or I’ll leave you behind. Got it?”

She nodded, lips set in a firm line.

“Okay then. Stay behind me, walk softly and in my footsteps, and no matter what happens, keep your mouth shut.” I took off my bandana and tied the end to one of my belt loops, then handed her the other end. “Hold onto that and don’t let go.”

I shifted my backpack to a more comfortable position, then, cautiously, we began slowly skirting our way around the edge of the chamber. Using my walking stick, I gently probed the floor before I took each step and flashed the light from side to side. I had the feeling this chamber might have been a natural cave that had been excavated by the miners who had come through here. Who knew what manner of metal or gems they were seeking? The hills were full of secrets and thousands of prospectors had spent their lives searching for that one elusive mother lode that would make them rich. Most had died without ever finding a thing.

As we edged around the perimeter of the room, I tried to gauge its size. Rock formations and outcroppings in the center made it difficult to see the other side. Though far from huge, I gauged that it might be a good fifty yards in diameter; but couldn’t make an accurate estimate using the one flashlight I had with me. We’d circled nearly halfway around when the beam of light showed a glimpse of three archways exiting out of the cavern, one to the left, one opposite the tunnel through which we’d entered, and the third, to the right. So the mine went on into the mountain.

But what to do? Go deeper into the caves and lose our way? It seemed safer to wait near the mouth of the tunnel. Jimbo was on his way. He’d find my notes and come looking. And I’d left messages for both him and Murray. I turned to Cathy, who stood wide-eyed, waiting for me to speak. The gloom and isolation seemed to be squelching her natural tendencies, for which I was grateful. Maybe we’d get out of this alive after all.

“We should take a brief look at all three of those passageways,” I whispered. “We won’t go into them. I’m only going to peek around the corner and see what’s there.”

She nodded. The passage to our left was shored up by a trio of beams, one to each side, the third holding sway against the rock ceiling. While I had my doubts about their strength, for they looked like they’d been there a long time, they were probably better than no support at all. I cautiously poked my head into the tunnel.

It seemed fairly level from what I could make out in the beam of my flashlight, and extended both to the left and to the right. No big boulders, no cave-ins. The air in the tunnel wasn’t fresh, but neither was it dank, so it probably wasn’t blocked at the other end. To the left, an object lying on the ground about three yards into the tunnel caught my attention. It didn’t look like a rock.

I turned back to Cathy. “Stay here. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

She let go of the end of the bandana and leaned against the wall, sliding down to rest her chin on her knees. I could feel her energy—all her bravado had vanished with the cave-in.

I stepped into the passageway, carefully picking my way up to whatever it was I’d seen. As I got closer, I realized that it looked like a cloth of some sort. Using my walking stick, I gingerly prodded the object, and was rewarded by seeing something that looked suspiciously eight-legged and big scuttle away. Oh hell, a spider. With my luck it was probably a mutant and would soon summon thousands of its creepy little friends and come back to eat us alive. After all, we were now in prime position to become the dubious eye-candy of some cheesy horror flick.

I prodded the cloth again but nothing else moved, so I propped my stick against the wall and leaned over to pick the thing up with the tips of two fingers. The material felt like nylon. Miners didn’t have nylon, at least not back when this mine appeared to have been excavated. So where had it come from, and what was it? After shaking it to make sure that there weren’t any other creepy-crawlies embedded within the folds, I spread it out on the ground and flashed the light over it. A windbreaker. And it didn’t look that old, nor was it covered with dust. Whoever owned it had been in here recently.

With a glance at the roof to make sure the rock still looked stable, I rummaged through the pockets to see if I could find any identification. A wallet! I pulled it out and stared at the black leather case. It was studded along the edges with brass rivets. There was something familiar about it, though I couldn’t put my finger on what that was. Something about… not the case itself, but the energy surrounding it. I flipped it open and found myself staring at Clyde’s driver’s license, along with a receipt for gas dated the day of his death. Shit. Clyde had been in this cave, probably right before he’d been murdered. I stared down the darkened tunnel. Was he headed somewhere? Had he been following the monster?

I shivered. Scar had also been in a cave before his death; the bat guano on his shirt attested to that. And I’d be willing to bet anything this was the cave he’d been in. What was the connection that had drawn both men to this place, and why? About to turn back, my toe kicked against something and sent it skittering against the wall. Probably a rock, but I’d better make sure. I flashed the light down at my feet. Wire frames and broken glass stared up at me. Glasses. And I immediately knew whose. George’s glasses. Right next to Clyde’s missing windbreaker and license.

Had George and Clyde gotten into another fight? In the cave, perhaps? Maybe my intuition had gone haywire this time and Murray was right. Maybe George was a murderer—he’d been carrying drugs and a thousand bucks on him and they were probably Clyde’s. So many loose threads, and nothing to tie them together with yet.

Confused, I picked up the glasses and tucked them into the pocket of Clyde’s jacket, then headed back to Cathy. She was still in the same position that I’d left her in. I decided to keep my mouth shut about what I’d found. I didn’t need her going ballistic. She glanced at the jacket, then at me.

“Found it on the floor of the tunnel in there. Somebody was here recently—” A noise to our right stopped me in mid-sentence. The sound of footsteps, and heavy breathing. Oh shit, somebody… or something… was in here with us! I handed Cathy the jacket. “Hold onto that and get ready to run,” I hissed and tightened my grip on my walking stick. It was the only weapon available.

Just then, from the right hand entrance that we hadn’t yet explored, a figure emerged out of the darkness. By the pale light of my flashlight, I could only make out that it was tall and stocky. The silhouette slowly advanced. I sucked in a deep breath, trembling as I slowly backed away, Cathy creeping behind me. The Warriors of the Mountain? The Klakatat Monster? Visions of Scar and Clyde floated before my eyes and I got ready to run, expecting the creature to lunge forward, to tear me to shreds at any moment.

And then, just when the silence was ready to set me to screaming, the creature stepped out of the shadow and into the full beam, and I saw that it wasn’t the monster. It wasn’t one of the Warriors. We were facing a man with an overgrown beard and long, stringy hair. Relief coursing through my body, I let out my breath as I recognized him. Bear! The man who had interrupted Murray and me out in the meadow. Cathy and I were saved!