The Dig (29 page)

“Tell you what, I wish I could trade him for Rheese.” Matt peered across the site to the bouncing mop of hair, sighed, and said, “Yeah, all right. But why him, exactly?”

“When you’ve got a puzzle in front of you, sometimes you want everyone else to shut up and go away so you can figure it out yourself. Other times, you wish there was someone smarter than you around to just solve it. Hank is smarter than everyone else. I tried to hire him away when I was first promoted but he told me that the museum would crumble if he left.”

“Well, great. So you just want me to tell him my story, tell him what I’ve experienced thus far, and let him work on it? What’s he even going to try to figure out at this point?”

“He’ll tell us the questions we should be asking, too.”

Tuni watched Peter and Matt interrupt Hank as he separated his tent pieces into piles of like parts. Hank and Matt nodded at each other. Hank’s hair continued to nod for several seconds after his head stopped. Matt spoke for a while, held out his palms before him. Telltale hand gestures.

He’s telling him.

Hank cleaned his glasses on his vest, nodding. Hank asked a question. Peter and Matt shared a look, and then laugh. Hank doesn’t appear amused. A few more words and Hank was left behind to resume his setup.

Tuni stood up and intercepted Matt on his way back to her. Peter broke off and joined the raucous bunch at the food tent.

“What did he say?” Tuni asked.

“Huh, who… Pete?”

“Hank, after you told him.”

“Ah, you caught that, huh?” Matt smirked as he remembered. “He nods and blinks and then asked me if I can at some point help him with three artifacts he hasn’t been able to figure out.”

“That’s Hank,” Tuni chuckled. “So… what are you and me waiting for, exactly?” she said.

It took him a moment to understand. He looked around. Peter was leading a bunch of the new arrivals over to Hank for introductions, and Dr. Rheese sat in his chair under the RV’s canopy, sipping tea.

“Right, let’s go. He doesn’t look busy, so he might not snap at you.”

“At
me
?
You’re
asking!” she replied.

“Not fair—I did last time!”

“Lies.”

“Whatever…”

O
RIN HELD THE K’YOT TOP AND
middle out from under the rock overhang and let the pouring rain saturate it. She watched as the blood-pinked water trickled from the bottom and ran down the small rock cliff at her feet. She had washed screamer blood from this k’yot before—or so she had thought. But this was not the same stuff at all. She knew now whose blood it had been.

Gazing out at the broad rolling hills and plains that stretched out below and into the distance, she wondered if their new homeland lay somewhere in that vast expanse, or if they would travel even farther yet. All she knew from Irin was that they would stop where it was both safe and near a water source.

When they awoke, Owil had complained that she could not walk any further. Though the pace had been slow thus far, her pains had been nearly constant, and two men had had to pull her on a n’wip for the last leg. Orin hoped that the newest would fall soon and that Owil would not be taken by newest death.

Stepping backward, Orin shook the k’yot several times to force off as much rain as possible. Others were outside around her, capturing water from the rocks and in outstretched clothing, refilling waterbags. Turning back to the cave, she took a lightstick from a row on the wall and walked in. She looked at all the faces along the sides and on the ground; some still slept, but most had either awoken or had failed to fall asleep at all. The majority did seem refreshed, though, and not as frightened as during sunrise. They ate cold gwotl and seeds, though perhaps a bit too much—Irin might need to pass along a reminder to save food and eat only enough to keep up strength.

She found Irin seated where she had left him. He stood up and thanked her for cleaning the k’yot.

“It was not as easy to clean as the last time,” she said, and Irin held her gaze for a moment. Did she know? If so, she apparently had nothing more to say of it.

As he pulled the k’yot over his head, Irin felt safe again. It rested against his gashed cheek, though, and he wondered if this might become a problem later. One of the oldest women had packed it last night with underdirt mixed with bluewater, which at least stopped the bleeding.

After strapping the k’yot from top to bottom, Irin walked to the wall, where Norrit and Pwig were studying the carvings. They had discovered the night before that nearly every surface of the cave had some sort of carved or painted image except for the floor.

“It seems that they ate the small crawlers,” Norrit told him. “They burnt them with fire and ate everything, including the bones.”

He pointed to a painting, and Irin leaned closer to look. Indeed, there were five people with bones in their hands, and one with a bone in its mouth.

“Perhaps it was a remedy for sickness,” Irin said.

They pondered this for a moment, and then Irin pulled them away to get the group up and moving again. Perhaps they would return to this cave one day to learn more from the drawings.

“Let all n’wips be repacked and secured. Keep one of them lighter to carry Owil. Who are the other ones with growing bellies?” said Irin.

“Owwi is,” Pwig answered, “but hers is small and she has refused help.”

“Otwip is as well,” Norrit said, “but she does not even show yet.”

“Very well. If there are those who haven’t yet eaten, have them do so—just a little—quickly.”

They separated, and Irin stopped beside Orin to touch his head to hers before walking out to check on the others. Most of the men had slept in the large cave above because the climb up was too treacherous for many of the women and new. The rest of the group was in a cave they had found around the other side of the mountain. It was wide and not very deep, but the single entrance—a narrow ledge that no screamer could negotiate—made for the most secure sleeping spot.

Irin looked up the rock face to the cave above. One of the fighters had thought to lower a rope for people to descend safely. A good idea, Irin thought, relieved that he could depend upon others. For a while he had felt the weight of the entire journey in his head. He watched a few people climb down with the rope and, after being sure all was safe, he left them for the third cave.

“Hello, Irin,” a man said as he came off the ledge. Irin returned the greeting and felt odd for a moment, realizing that everyone now knew him even though he seemed to know so few.

He moved carefully along the ledge and into the big, wide cave. The wind pushed the rain well past the overhanging ledge above, and Irin realized that there was very little cover from it inside. When had the rain begun? Had any of them been able to sleep? The fatigue on the faces here told him. Another mistake.

He returned to the ledge and hiked down to the ground level, where the n’wips were being prepared. In the distance, lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating thick gray clouds and a barren plain. If screamers preferred caves and mountainous places, he thought, they would not be out there.

“Irin!” Wil called to him from the screamer cave. “Owil says she won’t move!”

Irin had feared this. The newest would come soon, and Owil would bleed and have to stay.

“Is the newest falling yet?” Irin shouted back.

“No, Gwyn just felt inside; it has not come yet. But Owil says it’s on its way.”

“If the newest isn’t falling out, we move now. Get her onto the n’wip.”

Wil stared at him through the falling rain and saw his soaked face and his resolute expression. “She will not be moved,” he repeated.

Irin stood like a stone jutting from the ground, and they stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Gwyn appeared from the gloom of the cave.

“The newest falls!” she shouted, and pulled Wil’s arm. He looked at Irin with bitterness as she drew him back into the darkness.

Irin turned and looked at the assemblage. It was the right decision, he said to himself. He must do what was best for all, not just a few.

“Pwig!” he yelled. His brother turned away from a n’wip and jogged to him through the mud.

“Yes, Irin.”

“We need scouts to see if this hill is safe to descend. Are any near?”

Pwig searched the area for familiar faces and found Tryt and Iyo. He called them forward and sent them down the slope.

A
S THE SOUND RETURNED TO HIS
ears, Matt realized that there were many people in the RV, and some sort of commotion going on. His eyes quickly unblurred, and he tried to take in all the activity—a stark contrast to the usual silence and Tuni’s lovely features and look of anticipation.

“. . . just bloody got here and…”

“. . .
not
your decision…”

“. . . not sure what’s the big deal…”

Matt searched for Tuni and saw that she was on the other side of a heated exchange between Peter, Rheese, and Hank Felch. She looked as though she was trying to explain something but could not be heard above everyone else. Finally, Peter shouted and chopped sideways with his hand.

“Enough!” And as the others grew silent, he continued, “This is ridiculous. I understand your point of view, Doctor, but in the end it really doesn’t matter. We’re all here to get work done. Some of us are more eager than others”—he indicated Hank—“and may not yet be accustomed to some of the more
considerate
ways of doing things here—”

“Made a bloody mess is what he did—”

But before Rheese could launch into a new tirade, Peter cut him off. “Yes, yes, yes—we don’t need to rehash it.”

Matt slid his gloves back on and inched up on the bench to survey the damage. Rolls of papers were strewn on the floor and on the table in front of him, and Rheese’s wooden case of little calipers and compasses and other measuring instruments was spilled upside down, its contents spread across a map like paperweights, holding it unrolled.

“It didn’t look like this before, that’s all I’m saying, Peter,” Hank said. “This is basically ninety percent of Doctor Psycho guy…”

Rheese threw up his hands and began to shout again, and Peter shot an angry look at Hank for reigniting the fireworks. He stood between them, waving for silence, while Tuni stood, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling.

“It’s done, okay?” Peter shouted. “Done! Now, what I’m hoping is that we can clean this up exactly as Dr. Rheese would want it—in the right bins or whatever—and keep out just the map you were looking for, Hank.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” Hank said, still with an air of
I didn’t do a damned thing wrong
. “The one I needed is spread out right there on the table.… Oh, hey, Matt—you’re awake.”

Peter turned to Matt. “Sorry about that, pal. Did all that screw you up?”

“Oh, no, just a little weird to come back to. My timer was up.”

“Right, right…” Peter tried to organize his thoughts. “Well… so… Hank is here…”

“Yep, I see that.” Matt replied. “Hiya, Hank.”

Peter continued, “I’ve mostly filled him in on your findings thus far.”

Rheese was picking up paper rolls and looking at the tags on the ends to organize them back in their bins. Peter knelt and picked up a bundle to help.

“So anyway, Hank,” Peter began, “I’ll help Dr. Rheese with this, and you finish whatever you were doing with the maps.”

Hank nodded and turned back to the map in front of Matt. He straightened it out and spread his hands over it, studying the spot in Eastern Kenya where they now were. His index finger traced a swirling path and stopped.

“Here, right? We’re right here?”

Rheese shot an annoyed glance at the map. “Looks about right.”

“Great. So, then, Matt, do you know what direction these people traveled from their city?”

“Um… well, they were in these canyons for a while, which might have zigzagged some… but, um, in Irin’s mind they’re following the sun. It’s kind of funny, thinking about it now, actually, but he thinks that because they follow the sun it gives them extra darkness, whereas, if they had gone the other way, they would meet the sun sooner.”

“Interesting,” Hank mused. “They’d have to be doing a couple hundred miles per hour for there to be any noticeable gain. Logical theory at the core, though…”

“Yeah, um…” Matt said, hoping to refocus him.

“Right… they’re traveling west, then…” Hank took a ruler and placed it flat on the map, on an east-west axis. “If we’re here, and the sun—their destination, let’s say—is over here, then this alleged asteroid would have had to strike somewhere from here to here—approximately, of course.”

Rheese was looking over his shoulder now with annoyed interest, “You’re estimating based upon
current
east-west?”

Hank kept his eyes on the map as he said, “This continent’s east-west has remained basically the same since the Triassic, Doctor. Perhaps five to eight degrees rotation, but nothing significant over the distances these people would have traveled on foot in such a short time.”