He drew up short. Wild-eyed, he stared ahead, listening intently. The distant sound of a motor laboring at a different pitch reached him. Slowly it was drawing nearer.
He stood stock still. Both from behind him and from in front of him, the dreaded noises of the pursuing terrors were closing in on him. Frantically he looked around, fear and despair contorting his sweat-streaked face. The canyon walls imprisoning him seemed higher and more forbidding than ever.
He ran a short distance — first in one direction, then the other. But he was trapped. He stretched his arms up the steep rock wall as far as he could reach, searching for a hold. He found none. He ran to the other side. The rim above was just as unreachable. He tried to claw his way up the insurmountable stone wall — but he fell back.
Like a rat trapped in a pit, he turned around and around, desperately searching for a way out.
There was none.
Again he attacked the precipitous wall, his nails already torn and bleeding. In a crack grew a small, withered clump of spiny weed — yellow and dry — like the ones that grew sparsely along the bottom of the canyon walls. He grabbed hold of it, oblivious to the thorns, in a frenzied attempt to pull himself up — out of the trap. The dead weed tore loose in his hands and he dropped back to the ground.
For a moment he stared at the shriveled plant in his bleeding hands. Then he looked up, nostrils flaring in fear.
The demon noises were coming closer…
Paul stared ahead into the shadows of the narrow canyon — its walls towering over the scout on both sides as the little vehicle crept along. Any moment he expected to catch sight of Tom. Randi sat beside him, hands clutched together in her lap, knuckles showing white. Faintly they could hear Ward's scout rumbling toward them…
Ward was standing up in the scout, his eyes searching the canyon in front of him. Wilson was driving slowly, carefully. Tom could not be far ahead.
They drove around a bend — and Ward stared in astonishment. Less than a hundred feet in front of him, Paul's scout was drawing up — coming to a halt.
Tom was nowhere to be seen.
Wilson drove up to the other vehicle and came to a stop almost hood to hood. In utter perplexity the men dismounted and gathered around Paul's scout.
“Did you see him?” Ward asked. He knew it was an inane question, but he had to say something.
Paul shook his head. “I'm positive he went in here,” he said, sounding far from positive. He frowned up at the steep canyon walls.
“He must have climbed out,” Hays said. It was obvious that he didn't believe it himself.
Randi fought to check her bitter disappointment. Disheartened, she looked at the precipitous rock walls. “He — couldn't have,” she said quietly, voicing what they were all thinking.
Paul nodded grimly. “It would be impossible,” he agreed.
“Well,” Wilson said, “I guess nobody told him that, so he went and did it.”
Unsmiling, they looked at him. He shrugged.
“We must have missed him,” Paul said. “Somewhere.” He turned to Wilson. “You got enough room to turn around here?” he asked.
Wilson nodded, glad to be off the hook. “Sure.” He jumped into the scout and began to maneuver it expertly, turning it around on the narrow trail.
“We're meeting Stark at the Ranger Headquarters in about half an hour,” Paul said to Ward. “We'll follow you down there.”
Ward nodded. He got into the scout, and the two vehicles drove off down the ravine toward the valley. The laboring motor sounds faded and died in the distance. Once again the deep gorge was silent and deserted.
Suddenly, on the shaded side of the canyon, there was a small movement in the loose sand and gravel at the edge of the hard-packed trail. Near one of the yellow, withered weed clumps growing there a small ripple stirred the sandy ground — and slowly, probingly, Tom's arms emerged from the soft sand where he had burrowed into it like a desert fox. He brushed the cover of dirt and rocks from him and pushed aside the dead weed that had covered his sweat-and-grime-streaked face.
He struggled up to a crouch and for a moment sat looking in the direction of the departed vehicles. He shook the sand from him and peeled off some bits of dry straw stuck to his parched lips.
He stood up. He began to trot up the ravine, casting a final glance after the enemies he had eluded.
Was there a glint of triumph in his eyes?
4
Chief Ranger Stark squinted up at the sun almost directly overhead as he emerged from the HQ building. The oppressive heat was like a physical blow when you came from an air-conditioned office. The three Rangers following him already looked uncomfortable.
He watched as two scouts covered with dust drove up and came to a halt. Paul helped Randi from one of the vehicles. Stark walked up to him.
“I don't have to ask,” he said.
Paul shook his head.
Stark indicated the three Rangers. “I'm bringing my complement up to emergency strength,” he said. “I figure we can use all the help we can get.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“I'll have them in the field in no time.” He glanced at Paul. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “Tom may be moving at night. When it's cooler.”
Paul nodded. “Howell's putting one of the new rescue choppers equipped with the Pave Low night rescue system on the project.”
Stark looked questioningly at him.
“It's an infrared tracking system. Makes observation possible in the dark. It's still in the development stage. Howell had a hell of a time prying a bird loose for us. They'll be flying night search missions starting tonight.”
Stark nodded. He looked up as a Ranger truck drove in. Ranger Adams was behind the wheel. Stark turned to one of the new Rangers. “Gordon,” he said, “do you know where the motor pool is?”
The man nodded. “Yes.”
“Take Merriman and Sanchez. Wait for me there. I'll only be a few minutes.”
“Right.”
Gordon and the two other Rangers started off. Stark walked toward Adams.
Paul turned to Sergeant Hays. “You and Wilson get something to eat,” he said. “And gas up. Meet me here in one hour.”
“Yes, sir.” The big Sergeant climbed in behind the wheel of Paul's scout.
Paul looked at Randi. There was a budding respect in his eyes — even though it was a grudging one. The girl had endured the scorching sun with the best of them, and not a word of complaint. And, dammit, she had stood her ground against him.
He took her arm. “Come on, Randi. Let's get out of the heat.”
Randi shook her head. “In a minute, Paul. I–I want to be by myself for a little while.”
Paul nodded. He understood. He and Ward walked briskly to the HQ Building entrance.
Randi slowly walked toward a small stand of gnarled and twisted, half-dead trees nearby. Her thoughts were in turmoil, her emotions battered and beset. She fought against the black despair that seemed to envelop her mind and hold it in a tightening grip. She was determined not to be weak. As long as Tom was out there, there could be nothing else… But self-doubt and incertitude nagged and picked at her.
She reached the stand of stunted trees. Their scraggy trunks and limbs hugged the ground as if fearful of reaching up into the scorching heat. She sat down on a sun-bleached branch paralleling the ground and wearily rubbed the back of her neck, moist with perspiration.
Major Trafford watched her from the Ranger HQ entrance. He frowned with concern. He walked over to her. She looked up as he joined her.