Cibola

Chapter 15

"And you want me to climb down there?" Dane gazed down into the sheer-sided canyon. Set beneath a deep overhang, Square Tower House looked remote and inaccessible. "Isn't there a service road? How do the rangers get down there?"

"I told you," Jade said, sighing. "There isn't one. They use ropes and ladders to get down there. Unless, of course, you want to try the Anasazi handholds."

Dane shook his head. "That's something Bones would go for. I'll take the rope." He paused and looked her up and down, admiring the snug-fitting faux ranger uniform she had cobbled together. The boots, khaki shorts, NPS t-shirt, and Mesa Verde cap looked good on her. Of course, she made everything look good.

"You know that getup would be more believable if you had not shaved your legs," he kidded. "You know- go natural like the ranger women."

"Shut up and get going," she said, giving him a shove toward the edge.

"You did put up the sign, didn't you?" Dane asked, knotting a rope in a bowline around his waist.

"Of course," she said. "This Trail Closed For Maintenance. It should fool tourists, maybe even a really lazy ranger. Now hurry." She took hold of the safety rope he had secured around his waist, wrapped it once around the base of a nearby tree, and secured it to a larger one. She would play the line out as he descended. He probably wouldn't need it on the way down. He would be sliding down the other rope they had hooked to the same tree. Where Jade would really come in handy would be on the way back up, when her added strength would help him with his free climb up the rope. It was the most unsafe, ridiculous-looking rock climbing setup he'd seen since he was a stupid teenager, but they didn't have the time or equipment for real rappelling.

Donning his climbing gloves, he got a good grip on the rope, hooked it around his ankle, and slowly backed over the rock face. Jade kept tension on the rope as he worked his way down. He was an experienced climber, and the first several feet made for an easy descent. The rock soon curved back beneath the hill, forming the overhang. His boots began to slip, telling him it was time to change tactics. The drop was just over one hundred feet, but it looked farther from this vantage point. Much farther.

"Okay! I'm going down!" he called.

"Go for it!" Jade shouted back.

He kicked free of the wall and immediately the hands of gravity yanked him downward. The rope burned his thighs and palms through his clothing and gloves as he shot downward. He squeezed tighter and his descent slowed a little. He felt the jolt from the balls of his feet to the base of his skull when he hit the ground. His foot tangled in the rope and he sat down hard, rolling a little on his hip to minimize the impact.

"Some action movie star I'd make," he muttered, looking around for spectators he knew were not there. He untied the safety rope and hurried over to Square Tower House.

Overlooking the ancient Anasazi ruins, Square Tower House loomed four stories high, set against the back wall like a lone skyscraper. He navigated through the remains of foundations and walls, worn smooth by wind and time. He soon found himself at the base of the tower. His destination was the top room, where, according to Jade's research, was a window through which the sun struck a peculiar outcropping on the day of the summer solstice. It wasn't the most definitive clue, but it was worth checking out. He hoped the climb would not be for nothing.

He entered the ground floor room of the tower. It was less than five feet high, and cramped. The walls were blackened with soot from ancient fires, but here and there he could make out traces of the stucco-like substance the Anasazi used to cover their walls. Where it had chipped away he could still see evidence of the fine stonework. There was a small hole in the ceiling through which he could gain access to the upper levels. He wasn't tall, but his shoulders were broad, and they made for a tight squeeze. With difficulty, he worked his way up to the top level.

Reaching the fourth floor, he stood, forgetting the low ceiling and banging his head. How small had these people been? Of course, Bones claimed the Anasazi were actually aliens who built fancy cliff dwellings then flew away, inadvertently leaving their pet chupacabras behind. He was pretty sure his friend was joking, but was not one-hundred percent certain.

Where to begin? He looked out the front window and got his bearings, and then scanned the small room. Square Tower House sat on a south-facing cliff. Sunken as it was in a valley, sunrise and sunset would not be visible to the structure. Most likely, the solstice marker would have been based on the mid-day sun, meaning the center of the far wall. He used his knife to scrape away the ancient plaster. Once again he felt guilty at damaging an ancient structure, but hoped the end result would reveal a prize of such historical importance that it would atone for his acts of minor destruction.

The plaster came away in sheets, and soon he was looking at the bare, ancient stone. The building blocks were much larger than those of Chaco Canyon, but they were pieced together with the same precision. For a brief moment he wondered if Bones was right about aliens building this place. It was almost unthinkable that primitive people could create such an architectural marvel. He ran his fingers across the surface, feeling the joints where the stones fit together so neatly. He could find no indication of a compartment that would hide the next piece of the puzzle. Scratch this site off the list. No point in making the climb without giving it a good effort, though. He moved closer and scraped away at the stone. Something caught his eye.

In one spot, the consistency of the stone was somehow different. It dipped in ever so slightly and the stone felt grittier. His fingers traced the indentation like a blind man reading Braille, and they looped around in an oval pattern. He scraped away at the stone with greater intensity and soon uncovered a clover-shaped engraving that had filled with the ancient plaster, thus making him miss it at first glance. Given that Mesa Verde was abandoned a good three-hundred years before Fray Marcos and Estevanico made their journeys, whoever had secreted something here must have plastered over the stone himself. He obviously didn't want the clues lost forever, but neither did he want to make it too easy. But to what were these clues leading?

He worked the stone loose and was rewarded with a box exactly like the others they had found. He slipped it into a drawstring backpack and replaced the masonry as best he could. Peering out the window, he scanned the buildings and ledge for signs of rangers, but he could see no one. He felt a momentary pang of regret that he could not stay and admire the spectacular scenery for a while longer, but time was of the essence.

Climbing down was much easier than climbing up, though squeezing through the small holes was just as uncomfortable. He made his way quickly back to the ropes which still hung where he had left them. He gave the climbing rope two tugs- his signal to Jade that he was ready to make his way back up- but there was no answering tug. He tried again, but still no answer. She might have walked away, or encountered some tourists and had to do her ranger improv. He didn't want to entertain the possibility of anything more serious. He let two minutes tick away on his watch and tried again. Still nothing. He checked his cell phone, though he knew he would have no reception at this remote location. Sure enough, there were no bars showing. He tried the call anyway- a remnant of his upbringing by a father who believed in leaving no stone unturned and no detail unattended. No dice. He debated calling her name, but a gnawing feeling of unease had crept up his spine, and he now felt that something was wrong. If so, circumstances might dictate that announcing his presence would be a bad idea.

Dreading the climb he was about to make, he took both ropes and scrambled up onto a nearby boulder. He pulled the safety rope taut and cinched it around his waist. Without Jade to take the slack out, it wouldn't keep him from falling should he lose hold of his climbing rope, but by starting higher than ground level, it would break his fall before he hit the ground. Of course, it could break his spine as well, but he was confident that if he lost one rope, he could grab the other before he went tumbling. With no more preparations to make, he donned his gloves, grabbed the climbing rope, and swung out.

He had scarcely begun his climb before something went wrong. A vibration like the plunking of a guitar string ran down the climbing rope and he dropped about a half-inch. He knew what that meant.

"Oh no!" He hastily grabbed the safety rope in his left hand, transferring as much weight as he could. The climbing rope shuddered again and he grabbed onto the safety rope with his other hand. He hung there catching his breath. Something had caused the climbing rope to fray. A few more seconds and it would have snapped completely. It was a brand new 11mm rope and should not have frayed under any natural conditions. That left the possibility that someone had tampered with it. And if they had tampered with the climbing rope…

The realization struck him just as the safety rope to which he now clung gave an inch. Cursing roundly he slid quickly down the rope. He reached the limit, forgetting he had shorted it to keep from falling, and found himself spinning like a wind vane ten feet above the rocky ledge. He had only a moment to consider the absurdity of the situation when the rope parted, dropping him like a sack of potatoes onto the ground. His breath left him in a sudden rush. He rolled over onto his back, his mind ticking off the curses his body lacked the breath to articulate.

His mind raced with possibilities as he recovered his breath. The likelihood that even one of the ropes would have broken was remote. But for both of them to not only break, but to just happen to break at the same time? Not a chance. Which meant foul play, and that something likely had happened to Jade. He scanned the rocky face above, seeing nothing amiss. Self-preservation dictated that he either find a place to hide until he felt certain that whoever did this was gone, or that he climb all the way down into the canyon and search for a new way out. Neither one would work, though, because of Jade. He had to find out if she was all right.

It would take an experienced climber to make his way back up to the top. They wouldn’t expect him to climb out on his own, but he was a skilled climber. He didn’t relish the idea of a free climb, but he had no other acceptable choice. Then he remembered what Jade had said earlier. The Anasazi always carved hand and footholds in the cliffs in order to access their homes. All he had to do was find them.

His search seemed to take forever, scanning the weathered cliffs, inspecting each crack and shadow, but when he finally found the first shadowy concave space in the rock, his watch showed that only six minutes had passed. Perhaps he’d be doubly lucky and his hidden enemy had given him up for dead. Without further consideration, he set to climbing.

The ancient holds were eroded in places, some of them no more than shallow pits. He moved as quickly as he could, taking more time where the holds were almost gone. He did not look down, but instead kept his eyes on the top of the cliff. What would he do if someone appeared above him? Hope it was someone on his side, he supposed.

He made steady progress until he was about halfway up when the next handhold simply wasn’t there. He paused, squinting against the sun’s intense glare, and searched for it. His hands burned from scrabbling up the rock, and his muscles were knotted from the awkward contortions the climb had forced upon him. Where was the next hold? It was not long before a memory crashed down on him. The Anasazi coded their hand-holds. If you didn’t start with the correct hand and foot, you could get just far enough along to get…stuck.

Keeping his body pressed as close to the rock as possible, he turned and looked back, seeking a way down. He could see the way he had come, but his feet and hands were all wrong and the intervening space too broad to permit him to move backward. He was in trouble. He certainly hoped Bones was faring better.