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NEL SWUNG INTO THE driver's seat of the Jeep. The clatter of screen doors and field boots on the stairs heralded Mikey’s approach. Each season they gave the crew a long weekend and took a Friday drive through the wilderness, looking for raw material. Usually they could pinpoint either a trade route or an actual source. Nel was bargaining some of her questions might have answers by the afternoon.
“Why do you get to drive?” Mikey’s eyes were tired and bloodshot. He gripped his French press travel mug like a lifeline.
“Because you look like death. You drive back. You get water?”
“Yep.”
“Field pack.”
“Yep.”
“Sunscreen?”
“Ugh.” He tottered back inside only to reappear a minute later with sunscreen and his wallet. “K. Ready.”
She pulled out onto the road, swaying easily with the lurching car. There was something primal about a bumpy road. Maybe it was her roots in the back-woods or that every site had class-6 roads, but they spoke to her soul.
“North or south?”
“North. Scant shit in the south. Plus, we can stop for lunch on the way.”
“Gah, only if you pay.”
He waved his wallet. “That’s what rich backers are for. Can’t expect us to find any rocks at all without good food.”
Nel made a show of peering along the boulder-studded roadside. “Nope. No rocks here.” She drove with one hand, fumbling with the Jeep’s sound system. “Alright, since I’m driving, I choose the music.”
Mikey groaned and slumped into the seat. “I was hoping to nap.”
“Bullshit, you’re on lookout.”
Nel grinned wolfishly and slid an old cassette into the slot. “No better way to wake up than to Jay Z’s melodic philosophies.”
Mikey sighed and gazed dismally out the window. Nel snorted and grooved in the seat, pounding one hand on the wheel. She would be putting up as much of a fight when it was his turn. No one should listen to that much gospel. Ever.
She interrupted rapping about having 99 problems, “Alright, we’re looking for that pink rock.” She tugged a map of Chile’s geography from her pack in the back seat. “See if you can get any ideas. I’m going down Route 1.”
Mikey spread the map out on his lap. “Right. Rocks.”
Nel bumped onto a side road. They’d never be able to see anything from the highway. She turned north and jerked the shifter into fourth.
By eleven, they’d crossed forty miles and had seen every kind of rock except pink. “You ready to break for lunch?”
“If it means I don’t have to hear Gorillaz one more time, I’ll say anything.”
“Careful, you might regret that.” She grinned and spun into a pull off. “You take over, I’ll figure out what’s closest.” She slid the GPS from its case and climbed up onto the roll cage. “I swear our site is bugged, Mikey. This thing works fine everywhere else.”
“Woooo, maybe it’s aliens.”
“Shut up, Mulder.” Nel balanced on the steel bars, waving the GPS in the air. “Access code to me!” After a few moments, the device beeped into life. Nel tapped away at the screen, looking for any nearby restaurants. “La Merluza is a good 40 minutes away. There’s a joint down Route 1 just outside of El Hueso and then a hole-in-the-wall a bit further down the road. Never heard of it.”
“Hole-in-the-wall sounds good. Close?”
“Yeah, but you know the roads.” Often it took an hour to go four miles. Mikey finally found the tape he wanted and popped it into the radio. “Ready when you are.”
Nel hopped down and showed him the GPS. “Didn’t even know there was a turnoff up there.”
“Probably newer.” He backed carefully out of the turn off and trundled onto the road again. His grin turned sly as he cranked the volume.
Nel kept her mouth tightly shut. Why someone who staunchly disbelieved in God loved southern gospel, she would never understand. “Turn left up here.”
Mikey slowed, blinker invisible in the bright sun. The Jeep lurched and rattled down the slope. The empty road was old, the pavement closer to gravel. It was cut into the bedrock and Nel rose in her seat.
“Where did those boulders come from?”
“Honestly, it looks like the stuff from Alaska.”
“Yeah, they probably just carried it the whole way. For generations.”
Mikey rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. “People have done far stranger things.”
“Yes, your music is a fine example of that.” They rounded a bend and her eyes widened. “Shit.”
Mikey slowed the car to a stop and cut the music. “I guess we found our answer.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Right? You bring the camera?”
Nel couldn’t look away, and it took her three tries to hold the camera right-way-up. Just off the roadside to the left was a wall of familiar red stone. A gorge burrowed into the cliff face, becoming a winding tunnel. Rusty-black veined the stone. The road curved past the tunnel, two hundred meters of steep embankment between the edge of the road and the rock face. “Wanna check it out?”
Mikey grinned. “Duh.” He slid the Jeep onto the side of the road. Loaded down with packs, water, and the camera, they jogged across the road. “I think we’ll have to just slide down on our asses.”
Nel’s whoop interrupted him as she swung over the guardrail and boot-skated down the gravel slope. Chile’s landscape was a study in opposites — the lush forests and the Atacama. This was one of the green pockets. A river wound through the bottom of the canyon, an emerald snake in a desert of pink rock. A dozen flowers sweetened the air, and the muttering of the water drowned out the sound of the wind off the road far above. She edged into the canyon, running her hands along the wall. “Seriously, this is beautiful.”
Mikey slid to a halt behind her. “How have we never heard about this?”
“It’s off a back road. Locals probably know all about it, but it’s not like this is a tourist destination. Probably wasn’t even visible from the road until last year’s quake.” Nel followed the river deeper. It wasn’t strictly a tunnel; gaps in the stone roof above shed dim, filtered pink light onto the clear water.
“When I die, Nel, this is where I want my ashes.”
“Me too, dude.” Nel stopped. “Oh, fuck, Mikey, look up.”
The waving walls of stone were decorated with faded black hand-prints and other prints in relief. Nel pulled herself onto a shelf to get a better look. Further up were other prints, distorted and elongated.
“Charcoal?”
“No, too glittery. Looks like that black stuff layered on top of Strata III. How far are we from the site?”
“I left the GPS in the car. I don’t suppose the camera can get any sort of reading under all this.”
“Doubt it.” Nel’s gaze followed the river as it curved south and dove into a dark tunnel, winding deeper in the ground. “How much you want to bet this is the same river?”
“More than either of us make in a year.”
“You think we could get funding for this?” She moved along the shelf and climbed higher. “Shit, there’s art up here.”
She heard Mikey scramble back to try and get a look. “Can’t see it from here.”
“Hold on, I’m taking a picture. It’s on the ceiling up here. Can’t really tell what it is. Looks like just designs.” The shutter click echoed through the canyon a few times then she climbed down. “I’ll grab a few shots further in, then let’s head to lunch. I want to get back and see if I can find this online.”
“I’m gonna grab some coordinates from the roadside. Holler if you need anything.”
Nel followed the river bank for a few more feet, field book in hand as she sketched the river, the walls, anything she could fit on the pages.
“Nel!”
“Hold on.” She copied the designs and took another few shots with her camera phone before finally turning back.
Mikey’s shouting was faint all the way down the embankment, but when she emerged from the tunnel his words were suddenly clear.
“Nel, get your ass back up here!” His tone was unusually tense.
She jogged up, skittering and catching herself twice before she reached the guardrails. Her heart sank. Mikey stood by the Jeep, hands in the air.
Emilio and two men she recognized by face surrounded their car, gun’s trained on Mikey’s pissed expression. Their Land Rover was studded with political stickers and hand-painted designs.
“Oh fuck.”
“Bently, drop the bag.”
“Can I get out of the road, Emilio?” When he nodded curtly, she crossed over and dropped her field pack at their feet. She leaned against the Jeep by Mikey, but refused to raise her hands. “Since when do you guys carry guns?”
“Since you refuse to listen.” The younger of the two spat.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You were watching us the first day we broke ground.”
“Gringo. Can’t tell us apart.”
“Don’t be an ass, Bas. You were there.” Emilio rolled his eyes and upended their packs. “Search the car if you’re too bored.” Nel winced. Emilio chucked the rock samples over the rail, wiped the camera card, and ripped out the most recent pages of her field book. “You realize every time you warn us, it just tells us we’re closer? You think you’re discouraging? I think you’re leaving bread crumbs.”
“Nel.” Mikey’s warning shut her up, but didn’t wipe the cocky contempt from her face. Within fifteen minutes everything they had collected was destroyed.
“Bently, you need to get in that car, turn around, and not look back. You come here again and I’ll be waiting.”
“Mikey, wanna grab a bite?”
“Sounds good. I’m in the mood for something spicy.” He climbed into the driver seat and fiddled with the radio while she stalked around the car. She spit at Emilio's boots before slamming the door shut.
“See you around, Asshole.”
Nel jabbed the radio and cranked the volume, not caring that it was a juvenile display. Their tires spun as Rage Against the Machine blasted over the desolate road.
They pulled out, spraying the three men with gravel and exhaust. As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Mikey turned the music down. “What the fuck! We lost everything. And if you say you’re going back, I’ll personally throw you in the China Trench and let you rot.”
“Yeah, they got most of it, but they didn’t search us.” She pulled her cell out. “The pics aren’t pretty, but they’re better than nothing.”