"NO!" Ever cries out.
She jumps up and runs toward the trail that leads down to camp, but G's faster and catches her before she disappears. He stops her, then hugs her close. She fights at first, then slumps into her grandfather's arms sobbing into his chest. G looks past the girl to the boy. The pain in the old man's eyes is agonizing for Bae to watch. Long, agonizing minutes tick away before Ever composes herself. Exhausted, eyes swollen from crying, she looks up at her grandfather.
"Is it true, G?" she asks. "Is what Bae says true?"
He doesn't answer. Bae watches. He can see G in as much pain as Ever, yet he also notices that the old man is controlling it, not letting it out.
"I don't know for sure, sweetheart," he answers. "But we need to find out and we need to be careful."
All three stand back, away from the edge. Ever sits down in a daze. G stares at the canyon edge, lost in thought.
Bae takes in a breath, holds it, and lets it go, slow enough to allow his wide-view to return. Again, the picture returns to his mind's eye. Dead bodies are there again, but now he sees the blood. Everywhere. On the bodies, on the ground. So much blood. Yet, no open wounds like a weapon makes.
"I have to go down there," he says.
G and Ever stare at the boy.
"It's too dangerous, son," G says. "Can't take the chance someone or something is there."
Bae steps close, adamant in his decision.
"I'm the only one who can go down there, G," he says. "I have to confirm my feeling."
"What feeling?" G asks.
"The virus is here."
The other two look at Bae in disbelief.
"The virus?" the old man chokes out the words. "Out here in the wilderness?"
"Not sure, G, but I have to find out." Bae looks at each of them. "I used wide-view again. Saw blood, but not from a weapon. I'm the one to go down. Neither of you are inoculated."
G glances back at the canyon edge.
"I don't feel good about this, Bae," he says. "But if you're right, then you are the only one that can go."
Bae strips off his small pack and drops it at Ever's feet. She snatches the strap and holds onto it, then steps to her cousin and hugs him tight. The gesture catches the boy off guard, but he hugs back.
G also hugs Bae.
"We'll cover you with our bows from up here, as much as we can."
Bae nods and starts for the path.
"Be careful, son," Jure says. "Get back here as soon as you know something."
"Okay," Bae says and starts down the small trail.
Chapter 65 - Black Scar
Bae moves cautiously down the trail. Without thinking, he shifts to a stalk, and in ten minutes, he's at the bottom. A clump of thin willow shoots leans across the trail, blocking his view into the canyon bottom. He pauses and listens. The familiar tightness returns to his chest. Ignoring it, he pushes through the willows.
No bodies. No blood.
He moves through what is clearly a permanent campsite. A cooking pit is off to his right. Pots are scattered on the ground next to a spit made from stout willow branches. At the fire pit, he crouches and reaches out his hand. Cold ashes. He next moves to the opposite side of the canyon, to the far wall where shelters stand up against the rock. Made from willow and cottonwood branches, the shelters are well constructed and attach to the canyon wall behind. Pine boughs are laced over the top and down the sides as cover.
Bae goes to the nearest shelter and peers in through the small door. Bedding is inside, but no dust or cobwebs. It looks fresh, as if someone woke there only this morning. He steps back and scans the area. The whole camp looks lived in, but no one's here.
Like a punch to his back, Bae falls to his knees and pitches forward onto both hands and knees. He clutches his chest. The pain tightens to the point where he can barely breathe. The wound in his side throbs, too. Dazed, he forces himself to stand, then walk. No sense or idea of where he's going, he just staggers on, his mind reeling from the sudden attack on his system.
The boy stumbles to the back end of the canyon, his feet moving of their own volition. His fear is back. Why, he's not sure. He pushes away the fear and lurches forward. The pressure in his head and the pain from his wound make focusing difficult, but he sees that the ground in front of him is charred black, like the remains of a burn pile. A scar on the ground. But what was burned? Trash from the camp, perhaps. His logical mind tries to find an answer for what he sees.
Then the stench hits him, like nothing he's ever smelled before. He stumbles back, reeling, and gasps for clean air, but the stench stays in his nostrils. He stares at the black scar on the dirt floor of the canyon, maybe twenty-feet long, six feet wide.
Then, he sees the bones, charred and blackened. A skull, eye sockets darkened by the fire. Human bones.
Bae panics. Now he knows where the fear comes from and only wants distance from this place. He stumbles away from the black ground, further to the back of the canyon. His logical mind reminds him he has to report back to G and Ever, to warn them the virus is down here and they'll be exposed. But his body moves past the watch-post trail and further away from his companions. So strange to be aware of what his duty is to G and Ever, yet moving away from the scarred ground that holds death, at the mercy of his primal instincts for survival.
A funeral pyre. His mind locks on the words and swirls with images of his mother, her lifeless body locked in the Death Room, and Grandfather dead on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. Both were burned in a crucible of fire after dying of the sickness. And now this place: another pyre burned into the ground. He knows he's supposed to be doing something, but his mind's gone fuzzy.
Old wounds of grief, tucked away inside Bae, open fresh as he stumbles. Jarred by the sight and smell of death in the scarred earth, he's crying. The old memories inflame the pain in his wound, and it burns afresh. He winces with the pain, stumbles through the brush, and falls to his knees. The boy loses his vision, replaced by a growing darkness that envelops the landscape around him.
They've returned, the eyes, with their blood-red iciness. They are so close to him, closer than before, yet he's not in the stone chamber of his dream. He can feel the warm sand under his hands and a slight breeze brushing his face. They are here, in this canyon, in front of him. Everything else is darkness. They are deadly and silent, pulsing an unseen power into what's left of Bae's logical mind. Have the eyes come to fetch him? Do the eyes belong to the dark medicine man?
He doubles over in pain and pitches forward onto the soft sand of the canyon floor. With a last desperate swipe, the boy stabs at the eyes with his hand as his chest and face hit the ground. The eyes, pulsing an evil he's never felt before, are still there in front of him, sucking in what's left of his sanity with their power.
Everything goes black.
Chapter 66 - Hope
"Is Bae okay, G? Can you tell?"
The old man watches the canyon, where the clan camp is hidden in the trees.
"I don't know, Granddaughter," he says. "I'm not clear on what's wrong down there. I can't feel Bae's presence."
G suddenly stands and moves to another trail. Not the trail to the canyon bottom.
"Let's go," he says to Ever.
She follows, not sure where he's going. As they move down a different path than Bae took, she notes it follows the outline of the canyon with a view to the bottom about every hundred feet. She knew nothing of this path. Their movement is swift. After a few minutes, the old man stops, crouches, and motions Ever to do the same. He stares into the canyon, not so deep at this part. Ever repositions next to him and follows his gaze. She sees what her grandfather sees. It's the boy.
"Bae!"
"Follow me."
They move fast down the trail, much overgrown, and stay alert for trouble. The trail opens onto the larger one that meanders out the back of the box canyon, the same trail Bae
's on. Before stepping onto the main trail, G scans the landscape and listens. Ever does the same. Nothing. They move to Bae.
G drops to one knee, next to Bae's head. Ever crouches beside her grandfather, looking apprehensively at the boy's still body. His face is off to one side, ashen in color. G touches it. It's cold. He checks for a pulse.
"He's alive," the old man says, his voice almost a whisper.
Then, G sees the blackened ground, a hundred feet back and to the right of the trail. The charred bones of skulls are visible, more so from this approach than from the direction Bae had walked. He turns to shield Ever from seeing them, but it's too late. Her face is pale, and tears stream down her cheeks.
He shifts over and encircles her with his arms.
"Shhhh, granddaughter. Not here. Control your grief until we get far from this place," G says. "We can't stay here."
Ever pulls back and stares at the charred bones. Anger is mixed with grief. Jure firmly grips her shoulders and makes eye contact before speaking.
"Be strong," he says, his voice low but powerful. "We'll travel this trail out the back of the canyon. You lead. I'll follow."
"What about Bae?" Ever asks.
Without answering, the old man positions himself next to the boy and, with a strength that surprises Ever, lifts Bae over his shoulders. She turns and starts up the trail. In a few strides, they pass the path that brought them down from the top.
Another hundred steps and Ever stops. G nearly runs into her, steps back and readjusts his load. Ever points to the ground, then drops to one knee. G sees what she's pointing at, a pair of tracks that lead further up the trail. Human tracks. He drops to one knee, still holding the boy across his shoulders, and studies the prints along with the girl. The old man checks his balance, then reaches out to touch one of the tracks. Ever watches. He pauses.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"I have no choice," he answers, and puts his index and middle finger into the track.
Ever watches him, anxious. G doesn't move. The unconscious body of Bae draped across his shoulders doesn't seem to be a burden. The old man lightly touches the floor of the track with his two fingers and stares into the depression. A smile spreads across his face.
"I know this track," he says. "One of them is still alive."
Ever looks harder at the track, hoping to recognize the print, but she's not confident with human tracks. Her passion is the nuance of animal tracks.
"Who is it?"
"Mary John," G says. "My sister."
"Mary John?" Ever cries, excited. G quickly shushes her. She puts a hand over her mouth, then takes it away. "Oh, G. Maybe there're others, too," she says, looking further up the trail.
The old man stands, adjusts Bae, shucking the boy's weight higher onto his shoulders, and nods to Ever. They move up the trail and out the back of the canyon. The tracks they're following are clear enough, as if made to be seen. It's unusual, G ponders, that Mary John would do this. She was either very distraught or left them on purpose. Every member of the clan is taught to hide their tracks when traveling, to avoid detection.
Chapter 67 - Dark Search
As G carries Bae up the trail, he takes note of how light the boy's body is, lighter than it should be for a boy his size. This worries the old man. Bae's recurring nightmare of the dark chamber and the red eyes has bothered G since he first saw Bae after their separation. It has nothing to do with the killer virus the Agency released; it's something different, an infection of the spirit.
As they walk through the low brush and cottonwood trees of the canyon, G considers Bae's strange condition. A person schooled in dark medicine can infect another, this much he knows. The dark medicine man may have put something on that bullet that ripped into Bae's side. It could have been a form of spiritual poison. Some poisons act instantly, paralyzing or killing the victim; others move slowly through the target. This one appears to be the second type, the deadlier form. By moving slowly through a person's system, the poison works its way to the heart. What happens once it reaches the heart is beyond the old man's skill, but not his sister's. The dark medicine of an enemy is where Mary John does her work. If anyone can heal Bae, it's her.
They walk out of the canyon and into a low country of scrub oak, juniper, and pinyon pines. Hoping to understand more about Bae, the old man recalls what he can of his niece, Bae's mother. He only knew her when she was young, seeing her when he visited his brother. Even at an early age, she exhibited a special awareness that reminded G of his sister, Mary John, able to read and sense other people's intentions, good and bad. G remembers her smile and fiercely independent character.
The old man shifts the boy on his shoulders, redistributing the weight again. The old man feels the pang of his own fear for the boy. He whispers a small prayer for Bae to have enough strength to hold on, to push back the dark medicine coursing through his veins.
A strange squeal jolts G from his thoughts. It comes from Ever as she dashes up the trail. He looks past her and spies his sister, Mary John, up ahead.
Ever races to her, and they hug. In the next instant, Ever is pulling Mary John after her, pointing to G and Bae. Ever talks quickly, and Mary John picks up her pace.
Mary John is younger than Jure, her brother, by two years. Silver hair that falls just past her shoulders sets off penetrating blue eyes. Jure and Cy were both born with the dark eyes of their parents while hers, with their steel-blue color, accentuate an eccentric personality and peculiar medicine power. To walk faster, she hikes up her long skirt, splashed with soft greens, browns, and blues, and reveals a pair of ochre tanned moccasins tied up above her ankles.
"Brother," she says, letting go of her skirt and slowing her walk.
"Mary John."
They hug, awkward with the boy on G's shoulders. She gives him a quick look, a knowing between them, then glances at the boy.
"Put him down," she instructs. "Let me have a look."
G drops to one knee and carefully lifts the boy off his shoulders and onto the red sand of the trail. Bae doesn't move, but a groan escapes his lips as he's stretched out on the ground. Mary John scans the boy's body with her eyes, then puts a hand on his forehead.
"Tell me what happened," she says.
G nods at Ever to tell the story, an acknowledgment of her position as apprentice to Mary John. Ever describes the chain of events, starting with the moment she and Jure saw Bae get shot on the canyon rim. Ever is thorough in her recall, not wasting time on unnecessary information.
Mary John listens. Her eyes remain closed as Ever speaks. When Ever finishes, Mary John opens her eyes and looks at G. He nods in confirmation, and she launches into action.
"Jure," she says. "I need you to build a lodge. Small, but enough room for the four of us. Above ground. Use dead juniper only. No pine or cottonwood. Weave the wood loosely. I want cracks for sunlight."
She scans the area, and her eyes lock on a level spot tucked back in a rocky alcove fifty feet away, north of the trail.
"Over there," she points. "Ever, you walk with me. We have to collect sagebrush and juniper sprigs for the fire. Fortunately, I have dried creosote.
Ever knows this is no time for questions, but she can't bear it.
"Nana, what happened at the camp?"
"Not now, honey. There will be time later to talk. This boy needs our help. We have to stay focused. Understand?"
"Yes."
Ever trails after Mary John to look for the needed plants. G checks that Bae is comfortable, then walks to the alcove to prepare the spot.
An hour later, the lodge is done. The twisted and warped wood of the juniper is woven in a circle, connected at the top of the lodge, four feet in height. The door faces east, no covering. The lodge looks like a circular basket or bowl turned upside down. The gaps between the woven wood allow the light to stream in.
Bae lays in the middle of the lodge, h
is head pointing east toward the door. Mary John instructs Ever to sit at Bae's feet, lightly holding his ankles. Her brother is to the left of Bae with his hand above the boy's heart. Mary John sits at Bae's head, both hands cradling it.
In a shallow hole next to G, a tiny fire burns. Mary John nods for G to blow out the flames, leaving glowing coals. Then, in a whisper, she instructs him to place sprigs of juniper and sagebrush on the coals. Immediately, the sweet smell of the juniper and pungent smell of the sage fill the little lodge. The atmosphere changes as Mary John sings. Barely audible at first, her music is soft and warm.
Mary John leans down, her head close to Bae's. Her silver hair falls forward, softly framing Bae's ashen face. She appears to be in direct communication with the unconscious boy.
The song she sings is unintelligible to the other two. Ever knows of her singing and how it comes up and out from somewhere deep inside. Each song is unique to each healing Mary John administers. Her voice is light and gentle with a silver quality, like her soft hair. For the other two, even without words, it reaches to their cores, pierces with its warmth, and opens a channel of light. Mary John shifts from her song to words.
"Bae," she calls. "Why do you travel so far? Come back to us. Leave that dark place and return to the warmth of the sun."
The matriarch pauses and breathes deep, eyes still shut with her face down close to the boy's.
"Brother," she speaks in a whisper. "Creosote."
G picks up the small sprig of creosote and places it on the coals. Immediately, the sharp smell floats through the lodge. Powerful. Beams from the afternoon sun pierce through the slats of juniper, slashing angles across the interior of the lodge.
"Young Bae Walker," Mary John calls, her face only six inches above his. "Hear my voice and wake. Hear my song and follow it back to me."
She sings again, low, the words for Bae only. Her music is distant, as if she's gone looking for Bae in some faraway place that neither Ever nor G know or can go.
~
Bae wakes from a dull, numb place. It's dark and damp. He's stretched out on cold, clammy stone. His mind clears, and a familiar feeling comes to him. His chest, how it hurts. His heart, cold like death. Or what he imagines death to be. Yet he's alive. Why can't he move?