Fatalis

Chapter Thirteen

Grand and two Special Ops volunteers drove to the foot of Snyder Trail and walked to the slope. One of them carried a gym bag stuffed with gear; the other carted an aluminum case that contained a MarineScan UCM-the "You See Em," the Underwater Camera and Monitor. The Santa Barbara Sheriff's Office usually used this off-shore to examine everything from broken pipelines to shifting sand levels. Today it would be used to study the lake.

The other two men were in good physical condition and made it up to the cave without difficulty. It took less than an hour for Grand to rig their harnesses and get them down to the floor of the upper cave. By now the rains were lessening and there was enough light coming in through the swallow hole so they didn't have to use the night-vision goggles.

The three men walked toward the runnel with Grand in the lead. The scientist's mood was slowly brightening. It had been dark when he left the ravine. He was angry about the way he'd let the sheriff manhandle him during the interrogation. It shouldn't have been an interrogation, it should have been an asking. A questioning. And Grand should have set the sheriff straight immediately. It was the same way Grand had responded to things all his life. He'd let someone push and push before finally giving a nudge back. And the nudge was never enough to gain back the self-respect he'd lost.

But he was back in his world where he felt safe. Where Gearhart and those like him faded to insignificance. Where the mission was to eliminate one's own ignorance, not learn to live with the ignorance of others.

The scientist looked up as they passed the steep cave walls. Hie two large paintings seemed subtly different from before. It appeared as though the lava and water were actually flowing. That impression could be due to shifting clouds changing the natural light or the fact that the men themselves were moving. Grand also wondered if the Chumash artist had created that illusion intentionally through the use of color, lighting, and slight variations in the rock surface. Maybe he was trying to suggest that the animal spirits were never at rest. It was an eerie and impressive creation.

The trip through the north-side tunnel was relatively quick and easy. Once they were inside the cave, the Special Ops team recovered the radio and placed it in a plastic bag. While they took detailed photographs of the ledge and the water flowing into the cave, Grand walked along the narrow stone outcropping. The ledge did not go all the way around the cave, so it was difficult to see where the water spilled after leaving here. Possibly it flowed into a series of caverns that emptied into the sea. That was how many of these so-called "mountain fountains" worked. They were carved by high-elevation runoff that began during the Ice Age, the water pouring through cracks and enlarging them over the centuries. But Grand had been right about the creek feeding the lake. Though very little light came from above, they occasionally heard the muffled, distant shouts of the men working above them on Painted Cave Road.

Surprisingly, Grand felt none of the apprehension he'd experienced when he was down here earlier. The air was as warm and close as before, the water was just as still, the gnats were equally as persistent Perhaps the presence of the other men had somehow changed the dynamic. Or maybe something had been different then, something his senses had missed but his instinct hadn't.

After collecting their pictures, the men set up the UCM. The main unit consisted of a battery-powered, thirteen-inch color monitor with an antenna on top and a detachable joystick controller. The rest of the system was built on a white plastic raft the size and general shape of a mouse pad. On the underside of the raft was a plastic case with a halogen light, a small video camera, and a rudder. On the top, in the rear, was a small motor. After Moy placed the raft in the lake, Lyon steered it using the joystick.

Grand watched the monitor as the raft slowly crisscrossed the lake. The hum of the motor filled the cave with a soft, echoing drone while the camera's wide-angle lens broadcast sharp color pictures to the monitor. The lake was no more than five or six feet deep and the images showed a relatively smooth floor columned in places with stalagmites. Judging from the lack of erosion, the waters hadn't been here more than a few weeks. There was no sign of equipment, clothing, or anything else that may have washed down with the radio.

It took nearly an hour to cover the entire lake. When the men were finished, Moy packed up the UCM while Lyon radioed Gearhart The Special Ops leader told the sheriff they'd found nothing except the engineer's radio and were planning on returning.

"Have you had any luck up there?" Lyon asked.

"Negative," Gearhart replied. "We're going to extend the search into the mountains."

"We'll be out of the cave within a half hour," Lyon said. "If you've got some place for Moy and me, we'll head directly there."

"Sounds good," Gearhart said. "Why don't you take the Arroyo Burro Trail. Work your way toward the Falls."

"Will do," Lyon said.

After the Special Ops volunteer signed off, Grand approached him.

"Do you think you can find your way out?" Grand asked.

"Sure. Why?"

"I'm going to stick around, look in some of the other tunnels," Grand said.

Lyon offered Grand his hand. "Stay safe, and thanks for your help."

"Anytime."

Frank Lyon turned and took a last look at the water spilling into the cave. "Professor, you've been around these mountains a lot. What do you think happened up there?"

"I don't know," Grand admitted. "The way the weather's been, the ground acting up-it's easy to get hurt or lost or swallowed up."

Lyon nodded. "Yeah. Lots of possibilities. We just haven't hit the right one yet."

Moy came over and wished Grand well. Then the men left, trailing light and clomping footfalls.

Grand fished his penlight from his jacket and clicked it on. He walked toward the far side of the cave. The sounds coming through the sinkhole dimmed and vanished as he approached the gentle waterfall. Because the lake was so shallow, it had probably been just a small pool before La Nina caused it to swell. The waterfall might not have existed before then, in which case the lower cavern might have been easily accessible to the Chumash.

Reaching the tunnel, Grand found a waist-high cupule on the right side of the entrance. He used the small, natural groove as a handhold and swung his left leg around. He placed his foot on the bottom of the opposite wall, just above the waterfall. Still holding on with his right hand, he shined the light along the narrow opening.

And looked down at the sky.