Fatalis

Large, unusually tenacious gnats clouded around him but he ignored them. Waving them away was pointless. The roof of the cave was crowded with stalactites and the walls, as far across as he could see, were smooth. In the center of the cave was an underground lake, about thirty feet across. Water from his tu

Close to his boots, lying half in the water and half on the stone ledge, he also saw what was making the gurgling sound. It was neither a spirit nor a geyser.

It was a handheld radio.

Chapter Eight

Ha

The heat was roaring from the dashboard vents and the wipers flip-flopped loudly. Ha

Though Ha

However, Ha

The two women stood in the rain for several minutes, talking about fissures and the rural road infrastructure.

The journalist's long fingers moved across the laptop keyboard like spiders on a hot plate, as the Oklahoma-born Weezie once described them. But even that wasn't fast enough for Ha

Ha

Ha

"He just arrived," said the photographer.

"Thanks," Ha

The Wall didn't have to say who "he" was. It was the man who was unofficially dedicated to overthrowing the free press and overprotecting the rights and lives of the rich who had financed and helped to elect him. The chief Santa Barbarian himself, Sheriff Malcolm Gearhart.

"You cool, Chief?" the Wall asked protectively.

"Completely."

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Ha

The Wall scowled at her. "Uh-huh."

"Go away," Ha

The Wall returned to the sinkhole and Ha

Ha

"Where did you find the blood?" Gearhart asked Singer.

Singer pointed a gloved ringer to the northeastern side of the pit. "It was right there."

"What do you mean 'was'?"

"We were setting up a little shelter there when the section of road where we found the blood just crumpled. It happened about two minutes after we got here. There was nothing we could do. The sinkhole just expanded outward and that was that."

Sheriff Gearhart didn't look happy. "What about the rest of the road? Is it safe?"

"I ran an ultrasound check. There's solid rock under the rest of the road for about two hundred yards in each direction. It's not going anywhere."

"Why didn't we know about the weakened condition of this section?" Gearhart asked.

"Because we just don't do routine surveys like that," Singer said. "Why don't you know about killers before they kill?"

"I do," Gearhart said. "The law just doesn't allow me to do anything about them."

Singer made a face then excused himself. He raised the radio to his mouth and pressed a button on the side. A small green light glowed above the mouthpiece grid. When there was an incoming call, a red light came on. During a two-way conversation, both were lit.

"This is Caltrans emergency crew calling Stan Greene and William Roche," Singer said. "Greene and Roche, if you're receiving, come in. If you're receiving, come in. Over."