Extinction, p.11
Extinction, page 11
“It looks like they heard it,” Stein said.
“Flush ’em out,” said Gunnerson. “Fly down and get ’em moving.”
“Mr. Gunnerson,” said Cash sharply, “back off now.”
Gunnerson stepped forward and reached for the console.
“Hey!” Cash yelled. “What are you doing?”
Stein, holding the console in both hands and working the joysticks with her thumbs, tried to move away and elbow him back, but Gunnerson lunged for the console. He grabbed it, and there was a short tussle as he tried to wrench it from Stein’s hands, but in the struggle, he lost his footing and fell, Stein yanking the console back. On the screen, Cash saw a blurry, thrashing image that lasted a second or two—and then, after a moment, the camera image came back into focus, revealing a stationary floor of pine needles.
“You just crashed my drone,” Stein said.
18
Sheriff James Colcord ambled into the Eagle County Historical Society and touched the brim of his hat to the man sitting behind the volunteer desk.
“Hello, Burch,” he said.
“Well, howdy, Jim,” said the volunteer, a tiny man with a face as wrinkled as an old map. He leaned forward. “What’s happening up at Erebus? You catch that gang up there yet?”
Colcord hadn’t had time to read the local papers, and he wondered what they were reporting. A lot of nonsense, no doubt. But it was clearly a big national story: on the drive out, he had passed a frantic line of press and television vans that were hoping to get into the valley.
“We’re working on it,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Burch rose eagerly. “Well, what can I do for you?”
Colcord couldn’t help but smile at the man’s wizened face, his blue eyes popping with excitement for information. It was amazing that a man so old—he was close to ninety—could still have so much energy. There were a lot of people like him in Colorado, who lived a long time and had lots of energy and then died suddenly in their sleep.
“Think you can keep it confidential?”
“Absolutely. No problem. You can trust me.”
Colcord knew he couldn’t trust Burch for one minute, and he was pretty sure whatever he told him would be all over town in an hour or two, but he didn’t really see a way around it. He needed the information, and Burch Burchard knew the archives better than anyone.
“I’m interested in the mining archive—of the mines in Erebus. The Fryingpan Mine and the Hesperus.”
“You think the gang of killers might be hiding out in the mines?”
Nobody said Burch was dumb, thought Colcord. “It’s possible.”
“And what about the Jackman Mine? You want that too?”
“Um, what mine is that?”
“It’s the third mine up there.”
Now this is interesting. Wonder why Maximilian never mentioned that one. “Yes, all three.”
“What aspect of the mines? I’ve got assay reports, partnership agreements—”
“I’m looking for maps—passageways and the location of all the entrances.”
“You’re gonna also want the ventilation shaft openings too.”
“Yes. All the openings to the outside. Everything.”
Burch nodded. “Okay. We got a lot of maps. The Jackman-Hesperus-Fryingpan complex is the largest hard-rock mine complex in Colorado. Follow me.”
He went and locked the door to the historical society, turned a sign over that said CLOSED. “Right this way.”
Colcord followed him through the office and past public exhibits of various mining tools, ore samples, old photographs, framed stock certificates, and miscellaneous bric-a-brac. Burch unlocked a fearsome padlock on a metal door in the back to reveal a warehouse extension behind the historical society building, packed from floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes and files.
Burch made a beeline through the maze of steel shelves, stopping before a big antique flat-file cabinet in polished oak and brass. He consulted the yellowing paper labels stuck into brass holders and finally pulled a file out. “Okay, here is the Fryingpan Mine, front section.”
“Can we get a little more light in here? I want to photograph.”
“I’m afraid it’s about as bright as it gets in here. We’ll bring them out into the office to photograph.”
“Fryingpan, back section.” He eased out sheet after sheet, laying them on top of the cabinet, then went on to another drawer and another.
“Jackman Mine, front section.”
He pulled out the drawer and stared. It was empty.
“What the hell?” he said, peering down into the flat-file drawer that had nothing in it. “The maps of the Jackman Mine were supposed to be in here.”
Colcord felt a crawling sensation along his spine.
Burch opened and shut more drawers in the cabinet labeled Jackman, but all were empty. Finally, he straightened up. “Stolen.”
Colcord frowned. “Really? Are you sure?”
Burch shook his head, his beard waggling. “Positive. I have no idea why they’d be taken. These old maps aren’t worth much.”
“Has Erebus been in here, consulting these maps?”
“Oh yes,” said Burchard. “When they first were laying out the place, they copied all these maps. But the Jackman Mine maps were still here, for sure. They must have been stolen recently.”
“How do you know?”
“’Cause I periodically check these flat files. I like to keep tabs, go through stuff. I would’ve noticed. Those maps couldn’t have been stolen more than a few months ago.”
Colcord pondered this. “Any idea who might’ve done it?”
“I can check the visitors’ log, but … it seems to me if you’re gonna steal something, you ain’t gonna sign in. Anyway, all visitors have to be accompanied by a volunteer, and that’s usually me.”
“Do you have security cameras?”
“In here? With our budget?”
Colcord asked, “How can I go about finding maps of the Jackman Mine?”
Burch was silent for a moment. “There’s a prospector up in the hills, an old geezer named Yearwood—you know him? Augustus Yearwood.”
“No.”
“He spent most of his life roaming those mountains with a burro, pick, shovel, and gold pan. Most of the gold was sucked out of these mountains a long time ago, but he managed to eke out a living. Old Gus wandered all over Eagle County, up in the Flat Tops and the Spiders—and the Erebus.” He pulled a soiled envelope out of his shirt pocket and scribbled the address down on it. “No phone. You’ll have to drive out there. Don’t let the signs deter you—old Gus is all bark and no bite.”
Colcord took it. Augustus Yearwood. Sawmill Corral, Grundage Creek Road.
“You know where Grundage Creek is?”
“Sure do.” Colcord put it in his pocket. “Thanks.”
“Now let’s bring these other maps out into the light so you can photograph them.”
19
After working the controls for a while and getting no response, Stein turned to Cash. “I’m sorry, but we have to go get it.”
“How far away is it?”
“About a klick.” She showed Cash the location on the console screen. “That’s where we are, and that’s where the drone is.”
It didn’t look all that far to Cash, but it was downhill, through rough country. She turned to Gunnerson. “You stay here. Don’t you move.”
“You should’ve flown it down closer, like I asked,” Gunnerson said.
Cash turned to Vanucci, the guard. “You watch him.”
Vanucci looked uncertain. “Agent Cash, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go down there without security.”
Cash opened her jacket to show her shoulder-holstered Glock. “And I know how to use it.”
Vanucci nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.”
Gunnerson sat down, red-faced and sulky, on a fallen tree trunk and took another pull from his flask.
Stein said, “We pretty much go in that direction, downhill, for about three-quarters of a mile.” She showed Cash, using the console’s GPS, the exact position of the drone and the terrain in between.
They set off hiking down the meadow and quickly entered an aspen forest. Stein consulted the GPS on the console from time to time to guide them.
“What an asshole,” Stein said.
“I’m sorry I allowed him to come along,” said Cash. “That was a mistake.”
Stein shook her head. “Not your fault. It was so unexpected. Nobody’s ever done that to me before.”
“You think the drone’s toast?”
“It’s pretty tough, and it has automatic avoidance features—and it landed on pine needles. The blades might be chewed up, but I’ve got replacements. I think it’ll be okay.”
As they hiked down through the trees, the slope got steeper. They were soon working their way gingerly down through rocky outcrops and deformed trees with their knuckled roots clinging precariously to the hillside. The footing was slippery, and Cash found herself hanging on to branches to maintain her footing.
After a half mile, they were blocked by a granite cliff with a twenty-foot drop.
“Son of a bitch,” said Cash. “This sucks.”
Moving along the top of the escarpment, they precariously followed its edge, looking for a route down. After a hundred yards, they came to a ravine choked with boulders. They halted, staring at it.
“I think we could get down that,” said Stein.
Cash examined it. An ugly, steep little ravine, it was only a twenty-foot drop before it leveled out into a dark forest of giant spruce trees. There were plenty of foot- and handholds on the way down. It was doable, she thought.
Stein checked the map on her console. “The drone’s down there just a few hundred yards ahead.”
“I’m game,” said Cash.
“Let’s do it.”
Stein put the console into her pack, zipped it up, and started climbing down among the boulders, moving slowly. Cash followed. It was scary; the boulders were huge and covered with slippery patches of moss, with broken tree trunks lying every which way. But there were lots of handholds, and Cash reached the bottom without much difficulty, putting her feet gratefully on the firm forest floor and breathing a sigh of relief.
Stein drew the console out of her pack and stared at it. “That’s funny.”
“What is it?”
“The drone’s stopped transmitting.”
“But you still know where it is?”
“I dropped a pin on its location. It’s just a few hundred yards that way. Maybe the battery died.”
They set off through the gloomy forest, the trees shagged with moss. After five minutes of walking, Stein stopped and looked around.
“It should be right here,” she said. She stared at the console. “This is definitely where it landed, where I dropped the pin.”
Cash likewise cast her eyes about. The forest floor was thick with springy needles, and it was cool and shadowy, the tall trees filtering out the sunlight, leaving them in a deep green shade. The fresh scent of pine drifted in the air. There was something awe-inspiring about the grove. She felt a prickling of alarm.
Stein saw something on the ground and bent down as if to pick it up.
“Whoa,” said Cash. “Don’t touch that.”
She brought out a ziplock evidence bag from the small supply she habitually carried and a tweezer and picked up the object—a broken piece of plastic. She slipped it in the bag and gave it to Stein.
“That’s a broken blade from my drone. So where the hell is it?”
Cash felt the prickle of alarm grow. “It was taken,” she said.
“Taken? What the hell?”
“Taken and, I would guess, turned off. Which is why you lost contact with it.” She reached into her jacket and unsnapped the keeper on her sidearm and withdrew it, casting her eyes about. They were surrounded by trees that limited sight in all directions. This was not a good place to be.
Stein stared at the gun. “Really?”
Cash saw, or thought she saw, a brief movement among the trees out of the corner of her eye. She snapped her head around, focusing in that direction, but whatever it was had disappeared. She put her finger to her lips and listened intently, but the only sounds were a sighing of wind in the treetops and the occasional creak of a tree trunk. The usual ubiquitous chirping of birds, however, had stopped.
Stein suddenly spun around. “What’s that?”
Cash too thought she saw a brief movement, but when she stared—nothing. She had a feeling of being stealthily surrounded.
“I think,” Cash said quietly, “we’d better get the fuck out of here.”
Stein nodded.
Cash turned and began walking back the way they had come, Stein following. Cash looked steadily to the left and right as they moved, occasionally looking back to see if they were being followed. She glimpsed flickers of distant movement through the trees on either side of them—they were being paced. She had her Baby Glock in hand. Since she carried it without a round in the chamber, she now racked one in. The noise was loud and unnatural. They were definitely being surrounded. The movements through the trees on either side felt like they were getting closer, in a sort of pincer movement. What the hell were they—people? They didn’t seem to be moving like people—more like animals. But animals wouldn’t pick up and turn off a drone.
She murmured to Stein, “Run.”
They broke into a jog, keeping side by side. That seemed to provoke their pursuers, who kept pace, edging closer but remaining flashes of movement among the many trees, impossible to differentiate or see.
In a moment, the ravine came into view.
“You go up first,” Cash said, spinning around with her Glock raised. “I’ll cover.”
Bracing herself in a firing stance, she aimed the weapon while scanning right to left and back again. Behind her, she heard Stein scrambling up the rockfall, grunting with the effort as she hoisted herself up through the tight boulders. All around her, among the tree trunks, Cash could see movement, fleet and silent—a tightening of the circle. It felt more like circling wolves than human beings.
Christ, maybe they are animals. She sighted along the barrel of the Glock, but was loath to fire. Discharging a weapon meant a shitload of paperwork, and her training told her never to fire at anything without an absolutely clear view. She could definitely see forms moving swiftly through the trees, still shrinking the circle—and again, she had the sense they were animals. They were too silent, too fleet, too … feral.
If she couldn’t fire at them, she could at least try scaring them off. It would still mean paperwork, but that was better than being decapitated. She lowered the gun and fired into the ground. The sound of the shot boomed and echoed among the trees.
It seemed to have the desired effect—all motion ceased.
She glanced back; Stein was halfway up the slot. Time for her to start climbing too. She holstered her weapon, spun around, and started up after Stein, grasping the edge of a rock and wedging a boot in a crack, pulling herself up, reaching, finding a handhold and foothold, pulling up again, struggling to get to the top as fast as possible. She’d done some rock climbing before, and it came in handy now.
She heard a sharp cry above her and looked up in time to see Stein slip, hang by a second from one arm, the other gyrating madly, trying to catch a handhold, and then she fell right past Cash, glanced off a boulder, and landed on the bottom with a sickening thud, where she lay on her side.
“Lisa!” Cash cried, almost losing her own grip as she scrambled back down, jumping the last five feet and kneeling over Stein. Her eyes were slits. She was unconscious. She looked dead.
“Lisa. Lisa! Can you hear me?”
No answer.
“Lisa!”
20
Bending over Stein, Cash cast her eyes around, looking for her pursuers, but whoever or whatever was surrounding them had either fled or hidden behind trees. She turned her attention back to Stein. Had she hit her head? She gingerly checked, moving her hair, but could see no injury to her head or neck. To Cash’s enormous relief, Stein’s eyes fluttered, and she gradually came to, her eyes blinking and staring around.
“Lisa?”
She didn’t answer, her eyes rolling around in an uncomprehending panic.
“It’s okay, Lisa. You had a fall. I’m going to examine you.”
Cash examined Stein’s body, scanning her limbs for injuries but not daring to move her. One of her legs was badly scraped and bleeding, the jeans torn, and the ankle was at a funny angle.
A groan. Her eyes finally focused on Cash.
“Jesus … what … ?”
“You had a fall.”
“Where … ?”
“We’re in the woods. Retrieving your drone.”
“Oh God.” She closed her eyes. “My … ankle …”
“I see it,” said Cash. It looked broken, but she refrained from saying so. She gave their surroundings another scan. Had they run away, or were they still there? She pulled off her pack, fumbled out her radio, and called on emergency channel 5. Right away, she raised a dispatcher at the lodge and asked for Maximilian.
He came on immediately. “What’s happened? Where are you?” he asked.
“Stein’s hurt, can’t walk, maybe a broken ankle. We were being pursued. We need to be evacuated—now.” She gave the coordinates of their position.
“Copy. We’ve a chopper on the pad, ready to go. We’ll be there ASAP. But … we’ll have to find an LZ near you. I see from your coordinates that you’re in a forest.”
“Yes. And I think we’re surrounded,” Cash said.
“Surrounded? By what?”
“I don’t know. Animals or people. Bring armed security. Hurry.”
“Copy that. I’ll leave the frequency open,” said Maximilian. “Stay on it.”
She placed the radio next to her. “Did you hear?”
Stein nodded, wincing. Her face was pale and beaded with sweat, but otherwise stoic.
Cash saw a fresh trace of movement and turned her attention back to the wall of forest surrounding them. The same covert flitting among the trees had started again. The shapes were moving closer, in a more deliberate way. It was hard to make them out—they were the same color as the tree trunks, a dark brownish gray. It was mostly through movement that she could even see them at all. What the hell were they? She yanked the Glock back out and raised it with both hands, still kneeling, panning the view. She had nine shots left, but the weapon was only accurate at short range—not much good beyond ten yards.
