It was not long before the intense sun led him to tie his handkerchief over his head like a turban. The thin fabric was of little help in the heat, but it did serve to deflect the worst of the sun’s rays. The wise course would be to find a bit of shade in which to wait out the hottest part of the day, and travel in the evening and at night, but he could not spare the time. He did not know exactly how far he was going, or where for that matter, but the fact that Jade had brought no water with them when they left the car indicated that she did not expect it to be far.
The shimmering waves of hot air seemed to resist his every step, as though he was swimming in molten lead. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he wiped it off and licked it off his palm. I need to conserve every bit of moisture I can, he thought. He hoped it would not be far. He did not know what he would find when he caught up with Jade and whoever had taken her, but he was certain he would need every ounce of strength he could muster.
The path he walked was not truly a path at all, but a low area among the hills and mounds of rock, where water flowed through during the rare downpour that touched the desert with its brief, violent kiss. He came upon a bit of shade, and rested for a moment, leaning against the rough, dry rock. His eyes searched the grounds for any bit of vegetation he could chew on for moisture, but he found nothing.
He continued to walk. The baked stone beneath his feet seemed to melt the soles of his shoes, and he imagined he was walking in mud, though it was only fatigue that made him feel like his feet were sticking to the earth. He came around a sharp bend, where the ground fell away to a narrow cleft where rocks and debris choked the bottom of the passage. His eyes fell on dark sand, and his heart pounded a hopeful beat. He half-climbed, half-fell to the bottom, and tumbled to his knees. He burrowed deep into the sand, working his way deeper until… yes! Moisture!
He continued to dig until his fingers struck rock. He twisted his arm back-and-forth, digging a tiny well for water to gather. He scooped up a bit of dirty, tepid water and carefully poured it into his mouth. He resisted the urge to gulp the water, instead letting it trickle back into his throat, keeping the grit and sand on his tongue. The hole yielded no more than another thimbleful, which he dribbled onto his swollen tongue. The moist sand he patted onto his sunburned arms and face. It did not come anywhere close to making him feel refreshed, but the worst of the heat seemed to dissipate. Renewed, he scooped up a couple of small, round, pebbles and popped them into his mouth before continuing his trek.
His pace grew torpid as he trudged across the unforgiving land. Concerns over lack of water and directions lay thin above the underlying fear that he might already be too late. What would they do with Jade once they found whatever it was they were looking for? He couldn’t permit those thoughts. She had to be all right. She had to be.
By the angle of the sun it was well past noon. He hadn’t the energy to even consult his watch. For the first time, he felt hope wane. Had he missed a turn? Was there a sign of which Jade had been aware that he had not? His fatigue and thirst made it increasingly difficult to fight off despair. He needed something to drink. He remembered his survival training, and groaned at the most immediate possibility. He could drink his own urine. It would be disgusting, and he had nothing in which to collect, but it would keep him going a bit longer. He really didn’t want to do that. What would Bones say if he knew? The thought of his friend made him chuckle, and his spirits lifted, if only a shade.
What about food? He supposed he could poke around under some of the clefts and try to surprise a rattlesnake. If he could find one, and if he could manage to kill it without being bitten, he could eat the meat… raw. Of course, he would waste vital time and energy in what might be a fruitless quest. He would push on a bit further before making that decision.
He glanced up at the hazy, blue sky, the waves of heat rolling up like breakers on the sea. A lone wisp of cloud drifted lazily across the horizon, taunting him with the thought of the dark, heavy-laden storm clouds that visited his home in southern Florida every afternoon. Not a chance of that in this arid clime.
Something glimmered on the horizon. In his state, he could not tell if it was anything more than a mirage, but he continued to move toward it. His head swam, but he kept moving. Jade… Melissa… Jade… He stumbled, but maintained his balance. He had to keep going.
And then something was moving toward him. A shadowy figure, little more than a dark outline against the sun-scorched sand. As it approached, the form took on a human shape. Hope welled inside of Dane. He was too tired and dehydrated to wonder if the person might mean him ill. Dane raised a hand in greeting, or tried to, but he could not lift his arm. His vision blurred, and an icy cool flowed down his back. Heatstroke. He stumbled to his knees as the figure drew forth. Dane had only a brief glimpse of a hideous, beastly face before he slumped unconscious to the ground, the silent scream dying in his parched throat.
Chapter 23
The members of the small party picked their way across the narrow spine of rock that led to the top of Angel’s Landing. Jarren kept his gaze fixed steadily ahead, refusing to look at the sheer drop-off on either side. Even the spectacular view of Zion National Park was not sufficient to overcome his touch of acrophobia and the myriad of thoughts that coursed through his mind. He had scoffed at the sign at the trailhead warning hikers of the potential danger this path posed, but now he saw the truth. The long, steep hike, particularly the switchbacks, had been challenging but not dangerous. This stretch was different. The ground seemed to flee from them as they crossed the narrow stone path. He could now see how several hikers a year managed to lose their lives on this perilous course. Why would anyone other than a skilled hiker be foolish enough to try and cross here? It was not that he had any sympathy for them; stupid people simply pissed him off.
A golden eagle circled far above, its lonely call drifting down from the heights. Jarren looked up for a moment too long and found himself struck by a moment of dizziness. He hastily dropped his gaze back to his destination, from which he was now only a few paces away. Angel’s Landing. How fitting that the Lord’s work would culminate in such an appropriately named place. He could scarcely believe it when the Elder told him. What were the odds that the Spaniards, more than a millennium ago, would have chosen a place that would later bear such a name? Zion indeed!
He knew little about what lay ahead. Excitement coursed through his veins. He suspected there still remained much the Elder had not told him. His instructions were clear: allow Ihara to guide them to the treasure, secure it until it could be removed, and then eliminate her at his leisure. It was the other part of the instructions he found most puzzling. If anything blasphemous is found, neither it nor word of it is to leave until I arrive. If that means eliminating your partners, so be it.
He grimaced at the memory of that last conversation. What might they find amongst the temple treasure that could blaspheme the Lord? Was he truly to kill the two men who accompanied him? Since those were his instructions, he was grateful for the small group. Initially he had thought the concern over a large party drawing unwanted attention to be unfounded. This park did not have so many visitors compared to Mesa Verde or Grand Canyon. But, he supposed, a touch of prudence was not a bad thing, though it went against his nature.