p&c.thunderhead-第30节

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　He　sat　down　beside　Nora　and　spat。　〃e　morning；　these　horses　won't　have　had　decent　water　for　thirty…six　hours。　Don't　know　how　much　longer　they　can　last。〃　
　〃Frankly；　I　couldn't　give　a　damn　about　the　horses；〃　Black　said　from　across　the　fire。　〃I'm　wondering　when　we're　going　to　die　of　thirst。〃　
　Swire　turned　to　him；　his　face　flickering　in　the　light。　〃Maybe　you　don't　realize　it；　but　if　the　horses　die；　we　die。　It　ain't　any　more　plicated　than　that。〃　
　Nora　glanced　in　Black's　direction。　In　the　firelight　his　face　was　haggard；　a　look　of　incipient　panic　in　his　eyes。　
　〃Is　everything　all　right；　Aaron？〃　she　asked。　
　〃You　said　we　were　going　to　reach　Quivira　tomorrow；〃　he　said　huskily。　
　〃That　was　only　an　estimate。　It's　taking　longer　than　I　anticipated。〃　
　〃Bullshit。〃　Black　sniffed。　〃I've　been　watching　you　all　afternoon；　struggling　with　those　maps　and　trying　to　get　that　useless　GPS　unit　to　work。　I　think　we're　lost。〃　
　〃No；〃　Nora　replied。　〃I　don't　believe　we're　lost。〃　
　Black　leaned　back；　his　voice　growing　louder。　〃Is　that　supposed　to　be　encouraging？　And　where's　this　road？　We　saw　it　yesterday。　Maybe。　But　now　it's　vanished。〃　
　Nora　had　seen　this　kind　of　reaction　to　the　wilderness　before。　It　was　never　pleasant。　〃All　I　can　say　is　we'll　get　there；　probably　tomorrow；　certainly　by　the　next　day。〃　
　〃Probably！〃　he　repeated　derisively；　slapping　his　hands　on　his　knees。　〃Probably！〃　
　In　the　flickering　light；　Nora　looked　around　at　the　rest　of　the　group。　Everyone　was　filthy　from　the　lack　of　water　and　badly　scratched　from　heavy　brush。　Only　Sloane；　sifting　sand　thoughtfully　through　her　fingers；　and　Aragon；　wearing　his　usual　distant　expression；　appeared　unconcerned。　Holroyd　was　staring　into　the　campfire；　for　once　without　a　book　at　his　side。　Smithback's　hair　was　wilder　than　ever；　his　bony　knees　covered　with　dirt。　Earlier　in　the　afternoon　he　had　plained；　eloquently　and　at　great　length；　about　how　if　God　had　meant　man　to　ride　a　horse　he　would　have　put　a　Barcalounger　on　the　animal's　back。　Even　the　fact　that　the　apathetic　Beetlebum　had　stopped　trying　to　bite　him　had　been　little　fort。　
　It　was　a　desperate…looking　group；　and　it　was　hard　to　believe　that　the　change　had　taken　place　in　less　than　forty…eight　hours　of　difficult　travel。　Jesus；　Nora　thought；　if　they　look　like　that；　what　must　I　look　like？　
　〃I　understand　how　concerned　you　all　are；〃　she　said　slowly。　〃I'm　doing　the　best　I　can。　If　any　of　you　have　any　constructive　ideas；　I'd　like　to　hear　them。〃　
　〃The　answer　is　to　keep　going；〃　said　Aragon　with　a　quiet　vehemence。　〃And　to　stop　plaining。　Twentieth…century　humans　are　unused　to　any　real　physical　challenge。　The　people　who　lived　in　these　canyons　dealt　with　this　kind　of　thirst　and　heat　every　day；　without　plaint。〃　He　cast　his　dark；　sardonic　eyes　around　the　group。　
　〃Oh；　now　I　feel　better；〃　said　Black。　〃And　here　I　thought　I　was　suffering　from　thirst。〃　
　Aragon　turned　his　dark　eyes　on　Black。　〃You　are　suffering　more　from　an　undifferentiated　personality　disorder　than　from　thirst；　Dr。　Black。〃　
　Black　turned　to　look　at　him；　speechless　with　rage。　Then　he　stood　up　on　trembling　limbs　and　made　his　way　silently　toward　his　tent。　
　Nora　watched　him　walk　away。　What　was　happening　here？　What　seemed　so　simple　on　paper…the　Anasazi　road；　the　descriptions　in　her　father's　letter…had　grown　hopelessly　plicated　on　the　ground。　It　would　only　get　worse：　tomorrow　afternoon；　if　her　navigation　was　correct；　they　would　hit　the　Devil's　Backbone；　the　massive　hogback　ridge　that　separated　their　canyon　system　from　the　even　more　remote　and　isolated　system　in　which　Quivira　was　hidden。　On　the　map；　it　looked　impassable。　Yet　her　father　had　ridden　over　it。　He　must　have。　Why　didn't　he　leave　any　signs　behind？　But　as　she　asked　the　question；　she　realized　the　answer：　he　wanted　to　keep　the　location　of　Quivira　a　secret　known　only　to　himself。　For　the　first　time；　she　understood　the　vagueness　in　his　letter　had　been　deliberate。　
　The　group　began　to　break　up；　leaving　Smithback　restlessly　dozing　and　Aragon　gazing　thoughtfully　into　the　fire。　Nora　felt　movement　nearby；　then　Sloane　sat　down　beside　her。　
　〃This　campsite　isn't　all　bad；〃　she　said。　〃Look　what　I　just　uncovered。〃　
　Nora　glanced　down　in　the　direction　Sloane　indicated。　There；　lying　half…buried　in　sand；　was　a　perfect　arrowhead；　pressure…flaked　out　of　a　snow…white　agate　flecked　with　pinpoints　of　red。　
　Nora　picked　it　up　with　great　care；　examining　it　closely　in　the　light　of　the　fire。　〃Amazing；　isn't　it；　how　much　they　loved　beauty？　They　always　chose　the　loveliest　materials　for　their　stone　tools。　That's　Lobo　Mesa　agate；　from　an　outcrop　in　New　Mexico　about　three　hundred　miles　southeast　of　here。　Think　of　how　far　they　were　willing　to　trade　to　get　the　really　nice　stuff。〃　
　She　handed　it　to　Sloane；　who　was　looking　at　her　curiously。　〃That's　quite　a　nice　piece　of　identification；〃　she　said　with　real　admiration。　She　took　the　point　and　carefully　laid　it　back　in　the　dust。　〃Maybe　it　should　lie　here；　after　all。〃　
　Aragon　smiled。　〃It　is　always　more　fulfilling；〃　he　said；　〃to　leave　something　in　its　natural　place　than　to　lock　it　in　a　museum　basement。〃　All　three　fell　silent；　staring　into　the　dying　flames。　
　〃I'm　glad　you　spoke　up　like　that；〃　Nora　said　at　last　to　Aragon。　
　〃Perhaps　I　should　have　done　it　long　before。〃　There　was　a　pause。　〃What　do　you　plan　to　do　about　him？〃　
　〃Black？〃　Nora　thought。　〃Nothing；　for　the　moment。〃　
　Aragon　nodded。　〃I've　known　him　for　a　long　while；　and　he's　always　been　full　of　himself。　With　good　reason…there's　no　better　geochronologist　in　the　country。　But　this　is　a　side　I　hadn't　seen　before。　I　think　it's　fear。　Some　people　fall　apart　psychologically　when　removed　from　civilization；　from　telephones；　hospitals；　cars；　electric　power。〃　
　〃I　was　thinking　the　same　thing；〃　Nora　said。　〃If　that's　the　case；　once　we've　made　camp　and　set　up　munications　with　the　outside　world；　he'll　calm　down。〃　
　〃I　think　so。　But　then　again；　he　might　not。〃　
　There　was　another　silence。　
　〃So？〃　Sloane　prompted　at　last。　
　〃So　what？〃　
　〃Are　we　lost？〃　she　asked　gently。　
　Nora　sighed。　〃I　don't　know。　Guess　we'll　find　out　tomorrow。〃　
　Aragon　grunted。　〃If　this　is　indeed　an　Anasazi　road；　it's　unlike　any　other　I've　encountered。　It's　as　if　the　Anasazi　wanted　to　eradicate　any　trace　of　its　existence。〃　He　shook　his　head。　〃I　sense　a　darkness；　a　malignancy；　about　this　road。〃　
　Nora　looked　at　him。　〃Why　do　you　say　that？〃　
　Silently；　the　Mexican　reached　into　the　pack　and　removed　the　test　tube　containing　the　flakes　of　black　paint；　cradling　it　in　his　palm。　〃I　performed　a　PBT　with　luminol　on　one　of　these　samples；〃　he　said　quietly。　〃It　came　up　positive。〃　
　〃I've　never　heard　of　that　test；〃　Nora　said。　
　〃It's　a　simple　test　used　by　forensic　anthropologists。　And　police。　It　identifies　the　presence　of　human　blood。〃　He　gazed　at　her；　his　dark　eyes　in　shadow。　〃That　wasn't　paint　you　saw。　It　was　human　blood。　But　not　just　blood：　layers　upon　layers　upon　layers　of　crusted；　dried　blood。〃　
　〃My　God；〃　Nora　said。　The　passage　from　the　Coronado　report　came　back　to　her　unbidden：　〃Quivira　in　their　language　means　'The　House　of　the　Bloody　Cliff。'〃　Perhaps　〃bloody　cliff〃　was　not　merely　symbolic；　after　all　。　。　。　
　Aragon　removed　a　small　padded　bag　and　carefully　pulled　out　the　small　skull　they　had　discovered　at　Pete's　Ruin。　He　handed　it　to　Nora。　〃After　I　discovered　that；　I　decided　to　take　a　closer　look　at　the　skull　you　found。　I　reassembled　the　pieces　in　my　tent　last　night。　It　belongs　to　a　young　girl；　maybe　nine　or　ten　years　old。　Definitely　Anasazi：　you　can　see　how　the　back　of　the　skull　was　flattened　by　a　hard　cradleboard　when　the　child　was　a　baby。〃　He　turned　it　over　carefully　in　his　hands。　〃At　first；　I　thought　she　had　died　an　accidental　death；　perhaps　hit　by　a　falling　stone。　But　when　I　looked　more　closely；　I　noticed　these。〃　He　pointed　to　a　series　of　grooves　on　the　back　of　the　skull；　near　the　center。　〃These　were　made　with　a　flint　knife。〃　
　〃No；〃　Sloane　whispered。　
　〃Oh；　yes。　This　little　girl　was　scalped。〃　
　
　
20
　
　SKIP　KELLY　SAUNTERED　DOWN　A　SHADED　WALKWAY　of　the　Institute's　manicured　campus；　rubbing　bleary　eyes。　It　was　a　breathtaking　summer　morning；　warm　and　dry　and　full　of　promise。　The　sun　threw　a　silken　illumination　over　building　and　lawn；　and　a　warbler　was　sitting　in　a　lilac　bush；　pouring　out　its　heart　in　rapturous　song。　
　〃Shut　the　hell　up；〃　Skip　growled。　The　bird　plied。　
　Ahead　of　him　lay　a　long；　low　Pueblo　Revival　structure；　clothed　in　the　same　subdued　earth　tones　as　the　rest　of　the　Institute's　campus。　A　small　wooden　sign　was　set　into　the　ground　before　it；　ARTIFACTUAL　ASSEMBLAGES　spelled　out　in　sans　serif　bronze　letters。　Skip　opened　the　door　and　walked　inside。　
　The　door　closed　behind　him　with　a　squeal　of　metal；　and　he　winced。　Christ；　what　a　headache。　His　mouth　was　parched　and　tasted　of　mildew　and　old　socks；　and　he　dug　a　piece　of　chewing　gum　out　of　his　pocket。　Oh；　man。　Better　switch　to　beer。　It　was　the　same　thing　he　thought　every　morning。　
　He　looked　around；　grateful　for　the　dim　illumination。　He　was　in　a　small　antechamber；　bare　of　furnishings　save　for　two　display　cases　and　an　unfortable…looking　wooden　bench。　Doors　led　off　in　all　directions；　most　of　them　unmarked。　
　Another　squeal　of　metal　on　frame；　and　one　of　the　far　doors　opened。　A　woman　stepped