Anasazi Strip - Chapter 35 - Part II

It had all seemed so easy when Dwayne and Linda had first crept up on the crime scene. No one had seen them, in fact, nobody had paid attention to anything other than loading the chopper with boxes as quickly as possible. Dwayne had no trouble picking Saunders out of the group of five; his long red hair was an immediate giveaway. Linda eyed the man with a burning hatred that spoke volumes.

Their original plan had been to sneak up on the chopper and capture the whole damned lot of them before they had a chance to react. Saunders and a scraggly, blond-haired man in a baseball cap were the only ones wearing weapons at the ready, and the five men presented an apparently easy target. Unfortunately, by the time Dwayne and Linda got close enough to spring their trap, Saunders and two other men had separated from the group and took Jenny with them.

At that point, it became necessary to implement Plan B, which pretty much consisted of winging it.  Dwayne said he would follow Saunders. Linda stayed where she was to cover Mr. Baseball cap and a big guy in a tan bush-jacket who never showed his face as he secured the load aboard the chopper. Linda had been instructed to wait for Dwayne’s signal, which might be anything from a shout, to the sound of gunfire – there was no telling. Dwayne would circle back behind the pueblo and corner Saunders and his crew, and then rescue Jenny. Linda’s job would be to get the drop on the two men at the chopper. She wasn’t supposed to come out of hiding until the last possible second, after everyone else had shown their hands.

Things had not worked out as planned, however. By the time Dwayne came around the back side of the pueblo, one of the bikers, a giant pig of a man, was attempting to rape Jenny  while a much smaller man, pants to his knees, clawed at the behemoth’s back. Saunders was nowhere to be seen. Dwayne had to stop both of these men immediately, and saw only one way to do that.

As Dwayne raised his gun to fire, he tried to tell himself that these sub-humans deserved to die. In fact, a certain righteous indignation surfaced as he squeezed the trigger. It felt good to play God.

The only trouble was, that once the shooting began, it unleashed a whole series of unknown forces. Dwayne was discovering what any battlefield commander knows to his core: that the best laid plans turn to shit as soon as the first shot goes off. The best Dwayne could do now was guess.

He zeroed in on the rock pile closest to the pueblo; there were perhaps a hundred feet separating him from his target. He knew he probably had the advantage of surprise on his side; but then he suddenly realized he had forgotten to re-load, which meant he only had two bullets left to disable whoever was on the other side of those rocks. He could not afford to miss.

As Dwayne came running around the corner of the rock pile he stumbled in a loose pocket of sand and pitched headlong into the dirt. He rolled sideways, coming to rest facing the bright, shiny barrel of a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson held by a lunatic in a blue baseball cap.

“Smile. You’re on Candid Camera, Cop!”said Otis with a deranged smile.

At that precise instant, the helicopter lifted off the ground in a hail of stinging dust, and panic took over for a brief instant. The psycho with the pistol looked back over his shoulder to see what was going on and Dwayne let him have it. The first shot went wide, but the next one made mincemeat of Otis Stile’s mid-section. The man crumpled backward as he tried desperately to hold in his guts, the same deranged smile plastered across his face. Dwayne continued to pull the trigger of his magnum, even though he realized his gun was empty. It wasn’t until the man’s bleeding body hit the ground that Dwayne’s head fell onto the soft sand and he shook with terrified relief.

Dwayne struggled unsteadily to his knees. The chopper hovered fifty feet off the ground while Saunders stood underneath it with his machine-gun trained on the underside of the craft.  The message was clear. Either the pilot returned for Saunders, or he was going to blast the helicopter right out of the sky. The double-cross stalemate lasted for only a few brief seconds before the chopper dropped back to earth.

Dwayne fumbled in his jacket pocket for some shells to load his empty gun. His hands were shaking with fear and excitement, and several of the stubby bullets fell in the sand as he frantically re-loaded; another few seconds and Saunders would climb aboard the chopper and be gone in a noisy cloud of dust. Dwayne moaned in desperation as the chopper touched down and Saunders stepped on to the skids and grabbed the door. The chopper quickly lifted off, Saunders signaling to the pilot to head directly toward Dwayne.

Dwayne suddenly went from worrying how he was going to stop Saunders from escaping, to trying to figure out he was going to avoid being gunned down from the sky like a helpless coyote. The rock piles and pinnacles would not provide cover from an aerial attack.  There was nowhere left for Dwayne Johnson to hide.

Dwayne fingered the last bullet into the chamber and stood up to face the approaching chopper, taking careful aim at the bubble-nosed front of the Bell Ranger. He didn’t figure he was going to get many shots, so he knew he better make the first one count.

Dwayne squeezed off a round and watched in fascination as the entire windshield disintegrated in a cobwebbed shower of broken plexiglass. Saunders almost lost his grip as the chopper lurched up and down, and then veered to the left in an evasive maneuver. Saunders fired a machine-gun burst which fell harmlessly short of Dwayne’s position, and Dwayne returned two shots in rapid succession at the fast-moving helicopter.

As the chopper retreated rapidly to the west, Saunders waved back at Dwayne and saluted before crawling inside the chopper.

Anasazi Strip - Chapter 35 - Part 1

Dwayne Johnson had never taken another man’s life, even in war, and much less at point-blank range. He found himself watching in captivated horror as the 44-shell turned the would-be rapist’s head to – what would you cal it? Brain mush?

       Several seconds went by before Dwayne regained his senses enough to deal with the second rapist, the man with his pants down around his ankles. From his position behind the dilapidated remains of the pueblo’s far wall, Dwayne had no fear of being shot – to hit him, someone would first have to flank him from the rear; there was little chance of that happening.

       The little man struggled to pull up his pants. He reminded Dwayne of a cockroach caught in the light. The man zipped up his jeans and then pulled a switchblade from his back pocket.  He wailed like a maniac as he looked back and forth from Billy Ray’s still-quivering body to the stranger with the gun. His head bobbed from side to side like it was on a spring.

Dwayne leaned out from the cover of the crumbling wall and aimed the 44-magnum at the knife-wielding junkie. “Try fucking this, you little prick!” he yelled and then fired.

       John’s mouth formed a circle of terrified surprise and he stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped the knife and clutched his chest with both hands. “Help me!” He collapsed on the ground next to Jenny and writhed in agony, convulsing for air like a fish on dry land.

       Dwayne showed no pity for the hapless rapist. Instead, he ran over to Jenny and tried to pull her back toward the protection of the rock wall as questions filled his mind. What was Linda doing? She was supposed to be covering Dwayne from a sandstone pinnacle near the helicopter. Why wasn’t Saunders shooting. What the hell was going on?

       “Dwayne!” gushed Jenny with a big smile as Dwayne grabbed her under the armpits and dragged her along the ground. “You found me!”

“Shhhh,” whispered Dwayne. We gotta get you back behind the pueblo so you’re out of the line of fire, Jenny. Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

Jenny put her palms on the ground and tried to get her balance. “I’m not sure, Dwayne.  Saunders gave me a whole bunch of cocaine a few minutes ago, and now I’m all messed up. Sorry, Cowboy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dwayne as he lifted Jenny and looked over his shoulder to see what was happening.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose around him. A shower of machine-gun bullets raked his position, followed by the distinct blast of a shotgun. Dwayne strained to drag Jenny behind the rocky cover before they both were ripped apart. The clatter of a small-caliber pistol rang out across Pinnacle Ridge, quickly followed by the baritone growl of Linda’s shotgun, then another burst of automatic weapons fire, none of which were aimed in Dwayne’s direction. 

Dwayne hauled Jenny to the pueblo, then quickly stepped out into the open, fired twice, and jumped back behind the pueblo’s crumbling wall. Linda had bought him some time by drawing the fire down upon herself, but from the sounds of it, she was in desperate need of some diversionary help.

Jenny lay on the ground, trying with great effort to get hand him something. It was the first time Dwayne had a chance to give Jenny a close inspection, and the strange reflection of the woman he had once known was almost beyond belief. Jenny had aged decades in a matter of a few days. It did not seem possible. What could have happened up here on the Paria Plateau to do such a thing to a person?

“Jenny, now listen carefully. I’ve gotta go help Linda. I think she’s in big trouble.”

“Oh. Is she here with you too?” asked Jenny as she held out her hand, revealing the jar handle and exhaled with relief.

“Yeah, that’s who Saunders is shooting at right now.”

Dwayne’s words were punctuated by a fresh barrage of weapons fire, and then the noise of something even more troubling: the high-pitched whine of the Bell Ranger’s engines starting up.

Dwayne grabbed Jenny by the shoulders and stared straight into her cloudy eyes. “Jenny, you stay right here now. Don’t move until I come back and get you. Understand?”

Jenny stared down at the pot handle like a child with a toy. “I’m not going anywhere, Dwayne. Ol’ Jenny’s played out. But I’ve got something here for you here that you’re going to need. The Magician said it’s going to stop these bastards cold.”

Dwayne didn’t have time for cocaine gibberish. “Okay. That’s great. You just stay put, Jenny. I gotta go now. Alright?”

Jenny smiled and drooled on herself.

Dwayne peered around the corner of the ruin to appraise the situation. The smaller rapist lay motionless in the sand. Linda was completely hidden from view, but bullets were riddling the rock column where she had originally taken up position, so it was a pretty good bet she was still there. From the looks of it, everyone now had his own individual rock pile to hind behind, but nobody was prepared to lead a charge. Undoubtedly, Saunders and his people were as spooked and perplexed as Dwayne and Linda – even more so. They probably wondered how many folks they were dealing with. At least Dwayne knew that much. There had been five bad guys at the beginning of the ambush. Dwayne had killed one of them, for sure, and the other appeared either dead or critical – certainly out of action. One man was piloting the chopper. And the two remaining gunmen were still going strong, evidenced by the relentless attack on Linda from two different positions. There was no telling where Saunders was. Dwayne could not see who was warming up the helicopter, so he could either be there, or behind rock number one, or number two. Take your pick.

Anasazi Strip - Chapter 34 - Part II

      B.T. finished filling the second syringe and passed it on to a gaping Billy Ray, who had already taken off his faded jean jacket and rolled up his right sleeve. "I'll tell you what, Red, without your help, we'd have been in a world of hurt. And I'm gonna return the favor as best as I can."

      John moaned as he finished plunging the uncut cocaine into his vein."God-fucking-damn, that coke feels good, old buddy!" John let the needle fall into the sand and his face sagged into a satisfied smile.

      B.T. began filling the final hypo with the deadly cocaine solution. "I'll never forget what the three of you brought to this operation, and I know damn well you deserve better than I can give. But we had us some fun digging in that sandbox, didn't we? You bet your ass we did! We were one helluva team."

      John swayed in place and licked dreamily at his lips while Billy Ray untied the bandana tourniquet from his forearm and farted loudly.

      "Be brave, my child," whispered the Magician. "Stand strong and true, and the rest will take care of itself. You must believe."

      "I never doubted that you'd come back for me," said Jenny.

      B.T. placed his palm under Jenny’s elbow and raised her left arm firmly against his side.

     "And I promise to honor our agreement, no matter what happens," said Jenny, ignoring B.T. entirely.

     " The gods will love you, Red. I promise," said B.T. as he reached over and cut away some of her shiny red hair with his knife. Then he stuck the needle into the Jenny’s arm and emptied its contents into her bloodstream.

     Jenny looked down with bemused interest at the syringe sticking into her arm. "Hey, no more snorting this stuff up the nose, huh? We’re doing it for real this time."

     B.T. pulled the needle free and let go of Jenny’s arm. "We are indeed, Red. As real as real can get."

     "You think you won, don’t you?" asked Jenny as a shiver of pleasure ran up her spine.

     "Sure looks that way, Red."

     "You still have to get by the Magician," said Jenny as her eyes twitched madly and her head bobbed back and forth. "And you can’t even see him." Jenny convulsed with laughter.

     B.T. didn’t have time to listen to such foolishness. "Yeah, well, you give him my best regards, Red." 

     B.T. turned around to face the two stoned-out bikers. "She’s all yours, boys. Enjoy her while you still can. I’ll be back for some hair in a few minutes."

     As he approached the chopper, he was met by Otis and the Judge. He signaled them with a thumbs up sign. "All taken care of. They’ll be dead real soon."

     Otis wiped his forehead with the back of his dirty hand. "What the fuck’s going on over there?" He pointed in the direction of the pueblo. "Looks like John-boy is getting ready to cut himself a slice."

     B.T. turned. John had pulled down his jeans and was trying to drag Jenny to the ground where he could better attempt to rape her. It was almost a comical sight; the two drugged bikers looked like a pair of drunken dancers. Billy Ray clumsily elbowed his smaller friend out of the way. John was not interested in sloppy seconds and took a swing at the hulking beast. While B.T. stared in amusement at the demented scene, Billy Ray’s head suddenly exploded in a red haze. The trailing sound of a gunshot quickly followed.

B.T. dove behind a large sandstone boulder and felt a stabbing pain in his wounded leg. Who was attacking them? How could anyone have gotten this close without being heard? And as B.T. listened to a second and then a third gunshot go off near the old pueblo, he wondered if it was indeed the deadly work of the Magician.

Anasazi Strip - Chapter 34 - Part 1

      B.T. led the procession, with John following closely, and Jenny and Billy Ray bringing up the rear. Jenny felt like her legs were made of rubber and she stumbled several times, only to be caught by Billy Ray.

      "You don't walk so good, Jenny," he said. "You need to do some more drugs."

      B.T. turned around, grinning like a cartoon fox. "Don't worry, boys, we're gonna get you all fixed up real soon. I got some shit here that'll really knock your dicks in the dirt."

      Billy Ray and John hooted with excitement and Jenny tried to clear the cobwebs from her head. She was so tired, she felt like someone had stuck a giant hypodermic needle into her body and drained her of all willpower; just thinking took every ounce of her energy. She took several quick breaths and looked up at the crumbling walls of the massive Anasazi pueblo. The regal Magician was standing just outside the narrow doorway, wearing the colorful funery robes of his forgotten time; his hair braided in a tight, black bun that sprouted the blue and orange tailfeathers of a jungle macaw; around his neck hung a necklace of shiny white cougar claws. He stood as straight as an arrow and smiled with a radiance that warmed Jenny's soul and lifted her spirits.  She instantly felt like she was on top of the world.

      "So you came back, huh?" laughed Jenny as she waved her hand in greeting. "I thought maybe I had imagined you."

      B.T. instinctively pulled his Mac-10 machine pistol from his shoulder holster and spun around to fire on whomever Jenny was talking to. 

      John recoiled in fear, thinking that B.T. had flipped-out and was going to gun him down.

      Billy Ray's eyes widened with alarm and he raised his arms above his head in surrender.  "Hey, what gives?"

      Jenny ignored the rest of the group and walked past B.T. as if he weren't there. "I got them all together for you, Mr. Magician. Now show 'em your stuff." Jenny giggled with giddy anticipation.

      B.T. grabbed her by the forearm and yanked her around. "Who the fuck are you talking to?!"

      It took Jenny a few seconds to straighten up; she finally put her fingers over her mouth to keep from laughing.

      B.T. let go of Jenny's arm when he realized there was no imminent threat. He rubbed his hand over the front of his face nervously. "You trying to get yourself killed, Red, or what?"  B.T. put his gun back in its holster and glanced over at John and Billy Ray who were trying to figure out why the talk of getting high had inexplicably turned so violent. "It's okay, boys. I thought we had some company." B.T. flashed his men a sour look and returned his attention to Jenny, who kept eyeing the door of the pueblo as if it held some wondrous treasure. "What are you looking at, Red?"

      Jenny playfully poked B.T. in the chest. "You can't see him, can you?"

      B.T. frowned. "See who?"

      "The Magician, silly."

      The bikers started laughing and slapping five. "The girl's fucked up, B.T.," explained John. "Now she's seeing the stiff she was talking to all the while we were digging out that goddamn grave. Just pump her up with some coke, and then me and Billy Ray'll pump her up where it really counts." John gripped his crotch and thrust his hips.

      B.T. laughed, knowing full well that they were going to be dead in another half hour. 

      Jenny walked over to the pueblo and began carrying on a spirited conversation with the stone wall.

      "You're hallucinating, Red,” said B.T. “That's what happens after you don't sleep for a couple days. When you come down from the coke buzz, you start seeing things that aren't there.  But don't worry, we'll get you all fixed up right now."

      The bikers suspected nothing was amiss; as far as they were concerned, the job was over and it was time to get down and party. B.T. had promised them a special surprise. 

     The chopper was loaded up and almost ready to go. Otis and the Judge were strapping down the last few boxes while B.T. handled the problem. Jenny had been told that she was going to get a dose of coke to get her back on her feet and it didn't look like she was going to offer much resistance to the needle, or anything else. Things were working out quite well, better than B.T. had ever imagined.

      Meanwhile, Jenny and the Magician were concocting their own game plan. The Magician pointed a bony finger at Jenny. "It is time, Redhair. The battle is near. You must ready yourself for the final struggle. When the fighting begins, you hold the pot handle I gave you tightly in your right hand. Remember: Everything depends on you. Whatever happens, don't let go! The Magician seemed to hover just off the ground, his feet hidden by the folds of his full-length leather skirt, and he spoke in a musical cadence. "When I lived in your world, I was a man to be feared.  I sent many men to their graves, and I watched even more die. As a Warrior I was always prepared to die. And as the strong man of my clan, I could summon the hunting spirit of the mountain lion. To swallow my wands, was to dance inside the body of a great cat. Can you imagine?"

      B.T. handed a loaded syringe to nearly-slobbering John, and began prepping a second. “I’ve put together my special brew for the two hardest working men in show business.”

      The Magician's face hardened with anger. "When you have been dug from the earth, like a plant whose roots have been torn from their bed, you are caught between worlds. When all of your most valued possessions have been stolen from you by strangers from beyond your time, you are left with nothing but the hope that someone can understand the depths of your loss. Was I wrong to trust you, Redhair?"

      Jenny looked embarrassed and her eyes went teary. "I promised to help, and I will."

Anasazi Strip - Chapter 33

   Jason's Ramcharger careened around a blind turn on the narrow dirt road and almost went into a ditch.

      Tom held on to the strap above his door and closed his eyes in fear as they fishtailed. "You're lucky there aren't any trees in this stretch, Sheriff."

      Jason gunned out of the loose sand and veered back onto the washboard road. "Yeah, and it's a good thing we're police officers, otherwise we'd get ticketed for reckless driving."

      "We're pretty near Bighorn Buttes, aren't we, Sheriff?"

      Jason concentrated intently on the road. "Those are the Buttes dead ahead. We'll be there in a few minutes. Try to raise Dwayne on the radio again."

      Tom keyed the mike. "Dwayne Johnson, this is Mutz. Do you read me? Over." He repeated the transmission twice more before giving up. "Doesn't sound like there's anybody home, Sheriff. You want me to keep trying?"

      Jason swerved to avoid a large rock on the right edge of the road. "No, if Dwayne doesn't answer his radio, it's because he can't. You better get the shotgun ready. If Saunders is there, it'll be your job to keep him pinned down."

      The Ramcharger bounced its way up a small hill, two giant rock columns loomed a quarter of a mile away. "We're almost there. I'm going to really – "

      Jason slammed his foot on the brakes to avoid hitting a green Forest Service truck that was sitting in the middle of the road a hundred feet ahead.

      "LOOK OUT!" screamed Tom as he braced his whole body for the impending collision.

      Jason could feel the Ramcharger starting to power-slide out of control. He savagely jerked the wheel left, then right, as he pumped the brakes. The truck spun 180 degrees and came to a stop in a cloud of dust, inches from the other vehicle. Jason held the steering wheel in a death grip and let his head fall back against the vinyl head-rest as he thanked God they had managed to stop in time.

      Tom opened his door and jumped out, his shotgun held at the ready. Whatever danger was afoot could not possibly compete with the scare he had just had inside the truck.

       Jason drew his pistol and followed. "That looks like Dwayne's truck to me." His eyes settled on the message scribbled across the back window of the Ford. "Pinnacle Ridge? Now what do you suppose that's supposed to mean?"

      Tom opened the driver's side door of the Ford and scanned the interior. He noticed a lunch cooler sitting on the floor of the cab, and picked it up. Scrawled atop the plastic handle in black Magic Marker was the name DWAYNE JOHNSON.

      "You're right, Sheriff. Here's his gut bucket."

      Jason nervously eyed the surrounding hills. "See anything else?"

      "Well, somebody shot his radio transmitter. But I don't see any blood or anything like that."

      "Let's split up and search the area, Tom. You go up the road and I'll circle around to the left.  Go slow, and be careful. I don't want any heroics."

      Tom smiled. "I still haven't paid off the house yet, Sheriff. So, don't worry about me. I'm here for the duration."

      Jason grinned and headed off for the left side of the Camel Rocks. He tried to remember where Pinnacle Ridge was located. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he just couldn't place it. Ten minutes later, he and Tom met at Linda's abandoned truck without having seen anything out of the ordinary.

      Jason surveyed the battered Datsun. "It looks to me like Linda left here in a real big hurry. There are clothes scattered all over the inside of the cab, along with food, and a bunch of other junk; but there's nothing that indicates a struggle of any kind. Except, of course, that all the tires have been slashed."

      Tom pressed the metal latch and raised the hood. "Yep, and the distributor cap is also missing, Sheriff. "

      Jason walked around the side of the truck and stared in at the engine. "That's the same thing that happened to her truck when she left it out at Jumpup the day Willie Meeks was murdered. This has got Saunders' name written all over it. The question is: did he kill Dwayne and Linda, or did they somehow escape? Pinnacle Ridge! I remember now. It's on the eastern edge of the Paria Plateau." He pointed beyond Bighorn Buttes. "Dwayne wrote that inscription on his window to let us know that's where he was going."

      Tom looked confused. "But why, Sheriff?"

      "Beats me. But it's the only thing that makes any sense. Linda's sleeping bag is all balled-up over there by the fire, and her gear is still here. She was probably camped for the night when Saunders showed up. The point is: Dwayne's gone to Pinnacle Ridge."

      "Don't you think we oughta make sure they still aren't here, Sheriff? Maybe we should honk the horn or something. You know, see if they answer. Tom started beeping the Datsun's tinny horn. "And what about Jenny Hatch?"

      "I don't see her truck, or any of her camping gear. Maybe she's at Pinnacle Ridge." He started walking back to his truck and waved at his deputy to join him. "Come on, Tom. That's enough of the horn. Nobody's going to answer you."

      Tom struggled to keep up with the Sheriff. "Do you think they're still alive?"

      "That's a good question, Tom. Dwayne obviously left here alive, because he told us where to look. And we know that Jenny was alive at eight this morning, because she called in on the radio. Beyond that, I’m not sure. What I want to do right now is bring in some of our deputies from town and some more from Page, and get both ends of the House Rock Valley Road closed off. Saunders had to have driven in here, because the chopper has been in the shop until this morning. The next thing I want to do is alert Sheriff Smoot to what's happening. He can get a team together to cover the Kanab airport. The judge who picked up the chopper has his Lear Jet sitting back on the runway in Kanab, so we know he's got to return there sooner or later. And I want Barry Smoot to be waiting there with a warrant to search his helicopter and jet when he does."

      Tom removed his hat and scratched his head. "How far is it to Pinnacle Ridge, Sheriff?"

      "Thirty minutes if we drive like we did coming in. As I remember, the road gets pretty bad up on top of the Paria Plateau. And once you turn onto Pinnacle Ridge, the whole place turns to sand."

      Tom clapped Jason on the back and smiled confidently. "Well then cheer up, Sheriff. If we made it out here in one piece, we can do it again."

      Jason increased his step and looked back with anxiety at his young deputy. "Yeah, but don't forget, this is the second time today we've been late for a date with Saunders. First, at his house, and now out here at Bighorn Buttes. And I've got a bad feeling that from here on out, we're going to start finding bodies."  

Anasazi Strip - Chapter 32 - Part II

       The Judge brushed at the edges of his mustache with the tips of his fingers. "I think you have been without sleep for too long yourself, Mr. Saunders. Consider the full implications of such an unprecedented action. The killing of a Forest Service archaeologist will be headline news, and the manhunt that ensues will be formidable indeed. Now imagine if you will, what it would be like if they thought she had been kidnaped and was still alive. Every law enforcement agency imaginable would be brought in to help with the investigation. To keep this woman would be tantamount to signing our own death warrants. Is that what you honestly propose?"

      B.T. looked momentarily flustered. "Look, Judge, all I'm telling you is that this woman knows her shit. She made us a fucking potful of money. And if she did it once, she could do it again. Just look at all this loot, Judge." 

      B.T. walked over to the large collection of carefully boxed artifacts.

      The Judge noticed for the first time that Saunders was limping slightly. "What did you do to your leg, Mr. Saunders?"

      "That's the other thing we need to talk about, Judge. That girl Linda Joyce – you know, the one who was down in Jumpup Canyon the day I killed Willie? – well, believe it or not, she popped up again, this time out here. By late last night, I knew we were going to make our deadline, so I thought I'd better pay her a little visit while I had the chance to get her alone and silence her for good."

      "I trust you ended her following days."

      B.T. smiled nervously as he prepared to dance around the truth. "Well, yes and no. I went down to her camp. And she was there all right. But she had some company. A Forest Service cop, I think."

      The Judge frowned. "So you had to kill him, too. Is that what you're saying?"

      "Not exactly. See, it was dark, and I wasn't familiar with the area, and I didn't really expect him to show up out of the blue like he did."

      The Judge stiffened with apprehension. "I hope you aren't going to tell me you let them both get away, Mr. Saunders. In light of your past oversights in this matter, that would not sit well with me at all."

      B.T. knew there was no longer any way to avoid the whole truth. “Things just happened too fast."

      The Judge interrupted brusquely. "I assume that is how you hurt your leg?"

      B.T. looked down at the ground in embarrassment. "Yeah, the guy had a shotgun and nailed me with some buckshot. But I’m okay."

      "How bad is it?"

      "It was just a lucky shot, Judge. It didn't do much damage, just slowed me down a little."

      The Judge looked like he was going to explode with rage; his face reddened and his jaw tightened. "And where do you suppose we might presently find Ms. Joyce and her friend?"

      "I crippled both of their trucks, so they'd be walking if they tried to get out. I'd guess they're either heading for the highway, or laying low until somebody from the Forest Service comes looking for them."

      The Judge's anger turned to nervous agitation. "And when do you anticipate such help might arrive?"

      "I had Jenny call in to her office this morning – you know, like she does every day. She told the head ranger that everything was going okay. The ranger asked to speak to some guy named Dwayne – he must be the asshole who shot me – and he also wanted to talk to Linda Joyce. Jenny dodged the request by telling him that they had already left for work and she didn't know where they were."

      "And he believed that?"

      "It's hard to say, Judge. He seemed to.  I mean, they're all fucking shitkickers, so who the fuck knows?” But I broke the radio in this fella Dwayne's truck, so they aren't going to get any answers that way. It'll take 'em a couple hours to get organized and drive out to House Rock Valley; see, that's where they think everybody is. They're not going to come up here on the Paria – at least, not right away. And by the time they figure out what's going on, we'll be history."

      "You have left us with many imponderables to deal with, Mr. Saunders."

      "Perhaps. But the situation is basically the same as it was three days ago – except for the fact that we're a helluva lot richer than we ever expected. I didn't plan to kill the Joyce woman until after this dig was over, anyway. But the opportunity presented itself, and I tried my best to terminate her while she was close. Things didn't work out the way we wanted, but it ain't the end of the fucking world."

      The Judge looked unswayed by B.T.'s analysis of the overall situation. "And how do you and your men intend to get out of the area, Mr. Saunders?"

      "The same way we got in. Drive."

      "And if the police have blocked the road? How will you and your men manage to avoid the police roadblocks?"

      "They won't be there yet."

      The Judge brought his index finger to his left temple. "Obviously, your brains are so badly scrambled from prolonged drug abuse that you are incapable of thinking clearly any longer."

      B.T. stiffened with indignation. "Hey, wait a minute now. You try and dig one of these goddamn pueblos for three straight days and nights and see how together you feel. And then take a load of buckshot in the leg. It ain't my fault that Linda Joyce keeps following us around like a fucking shadow!"

      The Judge wagged his finger back and forth in the air. "That is no longer the point, Mr. Saunders. The question is how to cut our losses and remove ourselves from this plateau without being caught by the authorities."

      B.T. rubbed his wounded leg and tried to focus on the problem. "Hell, I don't know, Judge.  You’re the fucking brains. So, you tell me."

      The Judge shook his head in disappointment. "In my opinion, departing by truck no longer seems a viable option. I, of course, will be flying out as planned; which leaves us with several interesting courses of action. We can simply leave the shipment here, and all fly out together. Or second, we can load the shipment on board and then allow space considerations to dictate who goes and who stays. How much would you estimate the entire load weighs?"

      B.T. had already made such a mental calculation. "Oh, I'd say close to eight hundred pounds."

      The Judge nodded thoughtfully.  "That means I have room for you and one other person. But whoever remains must be permanently silenced as well. So, which of your friends will you kill, Mr. Saunders?"

"The Canyon Chronicles" Book Review

The Canyon Chronicles

read by Margaret Tearman

Soaring red cliffs. Boiling whitewater. Secret slot canyons. Poisonous snakes. Native American rituals. Killer heat. Raging blizzards … writes Bay Weekly contributing editor Margaret Tearman, herself a frequenter of such places.

This is the setting for The Canyon Chronicles (2011), Bay Weekly columnist Steve Carr’s memoir of living on the edge in some of America’s wildest acres during the era when Ronald Reagan’s administration was commercializing our national parks.

The edge comes from copious amounts of hallucinogenic drugs, unabashed amorous couplings and a devil-may-care, shrug-of-the shoulders attitude.

Reading Carr’s book is akin to eavesdropping on men reliving their glory days. On occasion, the tales got tall enough that I was tempted to say enough. But instead I leaned in even closer, not wanting to miss any colorful detail of Carr’s testosterone-fueled remember when’s.

Like the afternoon he and his hiking companions found themselves clawing their way up a cliff of a Colorado River side canyon, desperately trying to escape a deadly flash flood raging just inches below them. Or a dream date gone bad when Carr carelessly underestimated the frigid air and water temperatures deep in a slot canyon, and he and his trusting date were lucky to avoid death by hypothermia. Or the solitary hike in the desert backcountry when Carr was bitten by a rattlesnake — yet managed to trot 13 miles back to his pickup truck, where he quenched his thirst with a few cold beers, then drove through the night to the Buckskin Bar … instead of visiting the local ER.

The book is not all Indiana Jones swagger. It is also the story of irresponsible federal forestry management and corporate greed run amok.

While working as a timber surveyor in the Kaibab National Forest from 1983 to ’86, Carr stumbled upon illegal timber harvesting on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. He handed over evidence of Kaibab Industry’s illegal cutting to a sympathetic game and fish warden, hoping heads would roll when the news got out. His actions helped fuel a lawsuit that eventually shut down illegal logging in the Kaibab.

A regular columnist for the Bay Weekly, Carr is a rollicking storyteller who takes the armchair adventurer along for his crazy ride against a backdrop of the stunningly beautiful American Southwest. He entertains with his misadventures and makes no apologies for his recklessness, writing with his characteristic what the hell, I did it attitude. Carr is no naturalist and doesn’t make that promise. This is a book about human foibles against the backdrop of a harsh and often unforgiving environment. But you will pick up some geography, history and geology.
The Canyon Chronicles is an off-the-wall trip of a book, a ticket to a land — and state of mind — far, far away from Bay Country.

You can pick up a copy of “The Canyon Chronicles” at    www.amazon.com

Anasazi Strip - Chapter 32 - Part 1

     B.T. heard the chopper approach long before he could see it. He didn't need to look at his watch to know that it was ten o'clock; the Judge was always on time. When the chopper became visible, B.T. signaled to his men to clear the area. 

     "Have a seat, Red." B.T. pointed to a lawn chair situated well away from the landing area; Jenny obediently followed his instruction. "The rest of you get back inside the pueblo and start policing the area. We don't want to leave anything behind. Otis, you make sure the kiva is all cleaned up. You hear? Nothing gets left behind. I mean, not a goddamn thing, comprende?"

      Otis glanced out of the corner of his right eye at Jenny before replying. "Do you want us to fill in the burial?"

      B.T. immediately caught the drift: that was where Jenny would be buried. "No. Leave it for now. My main concern is that we don’t leave anything the pigs could trace."

      Otis tipped his ratty-looking baseball cap in salute and headed for the entrance to the pueblo with the other two men.

      B.T. was startled by Jenny's ragged appearance. Three days of digging the Magician's Burial had turned her old and somehow smaller. She looked like one of those crazy bag women who pushed shopping carts around the streets of Phoenix. Her hair was matted with red dirt and her eyes had lost all their fire. She slouched in the aluminum chair and stared indifferently at the ground.

      "You look tired, Red. The coke is wearing off, huh?"

      Jenny slowly raised her head as if she was lifting a great weight. "I feel like – " She closed her eyes and swallowed with apparent difficulty. "I just want to go to sleep."

      B.T. rarely felt pity for another human being, but there was something about Jenny Hatch that demanded sympathy. "Look, we'll shoot up some coke in a little bit. That'll get you back on your feet again. But right now I have to deal with the Judge. He'll be here any minute now. I'll try to convince the ornery sonofabitch that we should keep you, Red. I know you could teach us a lot – hell, you made us an easy couple of million on this one dig alone – so that should be worth something. But I'm not promising you anything; he can be pretty damn hard-headed at times."

      B.T. looked over in time to see Jenny's head slump forward on to her chest. She was sound asleep and hadn't heard a word he said.

      The Bell Ranger hovered overhead like a giant cicada and B.T. pointed at the neatly stacked row of boxes to his left. Ignoring the shooting pain in his leg, he jogged over to the clearing where the chopper would put down. Dust clouds billowed around the whining aircraft as it set down with a final lurch. The engines went silent as the rotor blades continued to spin lazy circles in the air.

      The Judge climbed out, beaming widely as he walked up to B.T. and vigorously shook his hand. "Everything certainly looks in order here, Mr. Saunders. Congratulations on a job well done."

      B.T. met the gaze of his partner and smiled proudly. "It went pretty smoothly, Judge. We had a few glitches, but I think you're going to be real impressed with this shipment. It's the best one we ever put together, by far." 

      B.T. pulled the three smallest sword-swallowing wands from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Take a look at these babies and tell me what you think."

      The Judge's eyebrows raised in interest as he inspected the strange prehistoric treasures. "What are they?"

      "Red says they were used by the tribal magician during some sort of sword-swallowing ceremony."

      The Judge looked curiously at B.T. "Who?"

      "The Magician. See – "

      The Judge cut him short. "No. Who is Red?"

      B.T. felt his stomach flutter as he pointed over at the sleeping woman. "Her name is Jenny Hatch. She's the Forest Service archaeologist from Fredonia."

      The Judge shook his head as if he couldn't believe his ears. "I beg your pardon. Did you say Forest Service archaeologist?"

      "It's a long story, Judge. See, she was doing some sort of project out here and stumbled on to us by accident. We were going to kill her straight off, but then she told us she was an archaeologist."

      The Judge was not at all happy with what he was hearing. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

      "That's what I thought at first, too, Judge. But we were digging this burial, see, and we were breaking a lot of stuff in the process ‘cause we didn’t have a clue how to do it right. Anyway, she showed us that we had uncovered a burial of real big importance. Jenny's an expert on Indian burials, and she claims this is the best one she's ever seen in the whole goddamn Southwest."

      "And you believed her?" said the Judge condescendingly.

      "You bet your ass I believed her," countered B.T., his voice rising in anger. "This whole fucking shipment came out of one, single grave; and I'll tell you something else, if we hadn't had the help of Red here, we would have busted up half the shit without even knowing what we were doing. That lady is worth her weight in gold, Judge."

      The Judge turned the wands over in his hands. "Sword-swallowing wands, you say?"

      "That's what she says."

      "Very interesting, Mr. Saunders. I am, indeed, impressed. And what do you intend to do with this rare find of yours?"

      "You mean Jenny?"

      "Precisely," said the Judge as he pocketed the wands.

      "That's up to you, Judge. Personally, I think Jenny could easily double our profits. She knows this Indian stuff inside and out."

      The Judge cast an appraising glance in Jenny's direction. "You'll pardon me if I'm a bit skeptical, Mr. Saunders. What have you done to her?"

      "She hasn't slept since Tuesday. I've been filling her full of coke so she could keep up the digging, but she hasn't had any yet this morning because I wasn't sure what we were going to do with her. I figured I'd just let her sleep while we worked that out. She's earned a break, that's for sure."

      "What makes you think this woman would continue to help us?"

      "Drugs," replied B.T.

      "Say again?"

      "If we get her hooked on drugs, then we won't have to worry about her running away.  And if she turns out to be more trouble than she's worth, then we can always dump her."