Fatalis

Chapter Forty-Three

The Wall was stretched over Hannah, huddling her against the mountainside. When Grand landed on the ledge above them, Hannah waited and listened. When she heard nothing she squirmed from the photographer's big arms.

"You're fired, Wall," she growled.

"Good."

Grand was still crouching behind the rock and looking out at the misty mountaintop. Hannah looked behind her, down at the bright campsite, then squatted beside Grand.

"Talk to me, Jim," Hannah said in a flat, low voice. "Were they what we thought?"

"Yes," Grand said as he rose slowly. He dropped the star-bursts. He was still staring across the dark tor.

"Saber-toothed cats."

"That's right."

Hannah rose. "My god. This is amazing. But why didn't they attack? Was it the light?"

"It might have been that or it might have been my retreat. A lot of animals won't fight if they don't have to."

"Maybe it was your star-things," The Wall suggested.

"That's possible too. But there's another possibility." Grand put the rock in his jacket pocket and took the flashlight from Hannah. "The sound of the helicopter. Roaring is a ritualistic display."

"Then why didn't they attack when they first saw us?" Hannah asked.

"They weren't hungry and they didn't feel threatened," Grand said. "I think they were just up here to watch the sinkhole."

"Why?"

"I'll let you know when I'm sure. Where's your cell phone?"

"Back at the car."

Grand turned around. "Wall, do you have a cell phone?"

"Yes."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Sure," he said as he reached into his equipment case. "I won't be needing it in the North Pole, where I'm moving tonight because there aren't any monsters there."

"That we know of," Grand said.

The Wall seemed to freeze.

"Jim, what's going on?" Hannah asked. "Who are you going to call? And-shit. How can these tigers be alive?"

"Deep freeze."

"Huh?"

"One of the cats had large, healed scars," Grand said. "They were long uppercuts. The cat was in a fight with an animal that sliced from bottom to top, head bowed. Possibly tusks. Possibly mammoths."

"Prehistoric elephants?" she said. "What have we got, an entire Ice Age population?"

"I don't think so," Grand said, "which is my point. Mammoths wouldn't be hiding in caves. We'd definitely have seen them before now. Back at the university we had radiocarbon reactions from tissue that was metabolically alive. That can't be. In order to be alive, the creature would have to be processing carbon dioxide. If it were processing carbon dioxide, we wouldn't have gotten a reading."

"Okay-"

"With one exception," Grand said. "Cryogenesis."

The photographer handed Grand the cell phone.

"Wall, is Hannah's number programmed in?"

"It's number one."

"Hold on," Hannah said. "Are you telling me the cats were frozen?"

"Remember the elevated water levels in the fur samples?"

"Right," Hannah said.

"That could have come from the ice," Grand said.

"But how?" Hannah asked. "There were no glaciers this far south, were there?"

"No," Grand said. "But there may have been subterranean ice."

Hannah shook her head. "This is impossible."

"A lot of things seem impossible until they happen," Grand said. He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket, turned on the flashlight, then swung back over the rocks.

"Where are you going?" Hannah asked.

"To get some answers." The scientist walked over to the sinkhole and cautiously peered over the edge. When he was sure the cats weren't there, he shined the light down. "The cave will probably block the phone signal but I'll find a place to call you."

"Like hell." She turned. "Wall?"

"Yo!"

"My phone's in the car, in my bag. Get it and keep it with you."

Grand looked at her.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

Grand shook his head once. He sat on the edge of the sinkhole.

Hannah crouched beside him. "The chopper has already landed at the campsite and El Gearhart is probably on his way up. He's going to close off this site and I'm not giving up another lead. With or without you, I'm going in."

Grand didn't think she was bluffing and there wasn't time to argue. "All right," he said. "Wall?"

"Still here."

"Your flashlight?"

The photographer climbed the boulders and ran the light over.

Grand looked at Hannah. "Step where I step and watch out for stalactites. If you knock yourself out I'm leaving you where you fall."

"Fair enough."

"No talking," he added as he shut off the phone and handed it to Hannah. He glanced over at Wall. "We'll call if we find anything."

"Just give me time to get down the mountain," the Wall said.

"And back," Hannah added. "We need pictures of the site."

The Wall groaned.

Meanwhile, Grand was moving the light around the sinkhole. The sloping passageway went down about seven feet and was lined with sharp-edged stones, most of which appeared to be part of larger, buried rocks. Grand handed Hannah the flashlight and told her to shine it down. He pushed his heel down against one of the stones and it held. He eased down, his back to the side of the sinkhole, and put his full weight onto it. Then he climbed down to the others. When he reached the bottom he had Hannah toss him the light. He considered running on without her, but knew she'd try to follow. Instead, he helped her down.

The passageway was just over five feet high and about four feet wide; the air was musty and close. The tunnel led west toward the Pacific and east; he could hear the faint sound of breakers and assumed the cats had used this passageway to go from the beach to the mountain.

Grand motioned Hannah toward the east He didn't think the cats would be going back to the sea; since this started, they hadn't seemed to backtrack. Where they were headed, whether by instinct or design, was one of the things he hoped to discover by tracking them.

That, plus the meaning of the Chumash paintings-the mountains in the upper cave and the circles and crescents in the lower cave. By virtue of what he had seen tonight, Grand believed that the paintings were more than a shaman's expressions of faith.

He believed they could be a warning.