Blind Descent

"That maybe what happened to your sister happened to Frieda."

A

"Oh my gosh! What happened?" A voice piped through the gloom. Half a dozen tourists, smelling of catsup and cologne, pattered down. The herd closed around A

Zeddie reached down. A

"Watch your footing," Zeddie said to the visitors. "These paths can be treacherous. Are you all right?" she asked A

"Right as rain," A

When the group passed out of earshot, Zeddie turned. Not willing to take another hit, A

"Get out," she said. "Out of my cave, out of my house, out of my park. Stay the fuck away from me."

There was no give in her face, no chinks in her armor. A

No question about it, A

As predicted, Peter and Curt were crumpled in front of the television, Calcite stretched along the back of the sofa, one paw kneading the bristle of hair on Curt's cheek. Greetings were grunted. Surreptitiously, A

Like drunks emerging from stupor, the men tore their eyes from the TV and refocused on A

"It's time. I can catch a flight out to somewhere-Las Vegas or Phoenix or Dallas-and be in Durango late tonight or tomorrow."

"This is sudden," Curt said. A roar erupted from the crowd on the television, and his eyes strayed back to the set.

"Not really. Walk me to the car, Curt," A

It wasn't until the door closed between them and the game that the spell was broken, and A

Booked into a charming but cold cabin in White's City, A

Zeddie and Peter at breakfast, Peter sneaking sips of her milkshake: the meaningless particles that had been floating in A

"Holy smoke," she said. She had been way the hell off base.

19

I hope you realize you're putting me in an awkward position."

By the light of the flash A

"Not that. Going to jail would lend me a certain cachet with my students. And you are going to pay any and all fines incurred, including the speeding tickets we get while ru

"Hurry up." December was breathing ice down A

"I'm duty-bound to try to kill you," Curt said. He stopped twisting the nut on the locking carabiner and looked up. His eyes were masked in shadow, but the glow from the flashlight illuminated small white teeth bared in a wolfish smile. A chill deeper than that of the north wind worked its way toward A

"What?" she said stupidly.

"That's the way it is," Curt said. He went back to his anchor. "Hold the light still."

A

"In the next to the last chapter the only guy the hero-or heroine, in this case-trusts undergoes a sudden and total personality transplant. Sort of the literary equivalent of growing fangs and hair on his palms. And it turns out he was the killer all along. Voila!" This was in mild celebration of the completed anchor. "You first or me?"

A

That same feverish terror gripped her on the limestone ledge above the gateway to Lechuguilla. This time there was no book, no symbolic crucifix to frighten away the bogeyman.

"A

"That wasn't fu

Curt registered mild confusion, then laughed. "Sorry." He didn't sound it. "My sisters used to take me out for walks at night when we were little, then stop and say, 'Did you hear that? What was that!' then run shrieking away, me shrieking right behind them. I fell for it every time. Till now I didn't know I'd inherited the knack."

"Not fu

"You're sure this is a good idea?" This was not the first time Curt had asked that question since A

"Nope." She gave the usual answer. "But Holden knows all the details. He'll know where to come looking."

"Tell me you didn't leave him a letter marked 'To Be Opened in the Event of My Death.'"

"Something like that. On-rope." The circle of gold from her headlamp dancing giddily across her boots, A