Footprints of Thunder (67 page)

65. Magic Mountain

Early one morning, a young woman looked through the mist to see a herd of buffalo approach. Then an opening appeared in the mountain and inside she could see the world as fresh and green as it once had been. The buffalo walked into the opening, and the mountain closed behind them.

—
Kiowa legend

The I-5 Mountain, Oregon

PostQuilt: Wednesday, 11:32
A.M
. PST

K
yle needed a bath and a night’s sleep. Instead, he found himself staring up the sheer face of a mountain, preparing to climb into the unknown. Kyle had listened to the stories of the I-5 mountain with mild interest. He liked a mystery as well as the next person … until it involved him. And it involved him when the little girl had been carried up the mountain by the bird-thing.

The state police had taken charge at the mountain and were trying to send trapped motorists back down I-5. Many of the motorists were resisting, however, preferring to stay and watch the drama with the little girl unfolding. The congested traffic had dissolved a little, but it still meant driving up the median. To Kyle, the mountain looked like a scene from Disneyland. Right where the freeway should continue was a tall rock mountain, surrounded by boulders and a small meadow. Hundreds of people milled around the clearing, radiating fear and excitement in the air. Kyle half-expected to see hot dog vendors.

“It looks like a carnival,” Shirley whispered.

“It looks like the Twilight Zone,’ ” Kyle responded.

A state police officer named Murphy was giving orders and greeted Kyle and the other climbers. He talked directly to Kyle, ignoring Shirley and the others.

“Thanks for coming. You can see the situation,” Murphy said. “We got no idea where this sucker came from,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the mountain, “and no way of getting up the damn thing. The little girl makes noises once in a while, so we’re pretty sure she’s still alive. We’ve tried climbing up, but we can get only about a third of the way. Can’t get good footholds.”

“What about this bird that picked up the little girl?” Kyle asked. “Not many birds could do that.”

“You got that right,” Murphy assured him. “It was a big sucker for sure. Had wings fifteen or twenty feet across. Funny thing though, it seemed to have trouble picking up that little girl. Like it didn’t have much strength. Witnesses said it kind of floated her up.”

“What kind of bird was it?” Shirley asked.

“They said it was a diseased condor. Didn’t have any feathers, but it was too big to be anything but a condor.”

Shirley shook her head in disbelief. How could a diseased, featherless condor fly?

“Where’s the bird now?” Kyle asked.

“Shot. Probably dead. Fell down behind those rocks up there with the little girl. Christy, her name is—no, Chrissy.” Murphy pointed to an outcropping a few hundred feet up the mountain.

“Probably dead, or dead?” Kyle asked.

“Haven’t heard the bird for a while. Not since the other one left.”

“Other one?” Kyle probed.

“Where’s the mother?” Shirley cut in. Murphy pointed to a woman sitting on a blanket in the clearing, surrounded by people. Two men with guns were standing nearby. Shirley walked off toward the mother.

Kyle waited until she was out of earshot. “Other one?” he repeated.

“Yeah. There’s another one. Every once in a while it floats out over the peak of the mountain. It came down low at first, but we scared it off with shots. It doesn’t come down anymore. We figure it’s the mate. Probably gave up when the other one died. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If it comes back while you’re climbing, we’ll give you cover fire.”

Kyle found no comfort in the thought of Murphy and his men blasting away over his head.

“Murphy, when we’re up there I don’t want any cover fire. I don’t want any fire at all. I don’t want to risk a ricochet or bringing some of that mountain down in an avalanche.”

Murphy didn’t exactly disagree, so Kyle began hauling the climbing gear over to the mountain. As he walked a man separated from the crowd and joined him, a tall thin pale man with black-rimmed glasses. He obviously had something to say. “It’s not a condor.”

“What?”

“I said, it’s not a condor. I got here just before those fools over there shot the first one.” The pale man jerked his head toward the two civilians with rifles, who began following within earshot. “Those two brainless wonders blew the wing off a living, breathing pterosaur.”

Kyle stopped in his tracks and stared at the man. “What are you talking about? Are you trying to tell me it was a dinosaur? A pterodactyl?”

“Certainly not. It was too big to be a pterodactyl. Surely it was part of the pterosaur family, but it most assuredly wasn’t a pterodactyl. More likely it was a pteranodon. They were much bigger. Cretaceous period, I believe.”

Kyle stared incredulously as the pale man continued talking. “It was magnificent. So graceful in the air, and so huge. Nature’s finest flying creation, perfectly designed to conserve every ounce of energy. The aerodynamics involved stagger the imagination. You see as the wingspan increases, the weight increases exponentially. Theoretically anything this big shouldn’t fly at all. Even with the hollow bone structure. But it uses the surface area of its wings to maximize use of the thermal—”

“What about the little girl?” Kyle cut in.

“Well, they were most likely scavengers. Carrion eaters. I imagine that little girl was too tempting a target to ignore, just small enough to lift off the ground. The way it swept down and grabbed her … nature’s perfect flying machine. And those two men shot it. They should be shot, not that beautiful pteranodon.” Kyle couldn’t stand it. He turned and walked back to the two men with guns.

“You the two that shot that thing?” The two nodded nervously. “Well, I’m going up there to see if that little girl’s all right and when I get back I want to punch that man,” he said, pointing at the pale one behind him. “Just in case I don’t come back, will you see that it gets done?”

The two men looked at each other and then smiled. The pale man turned even paler and then walked hurriedly toward the crowd, the two following.

What had the jerk called it? Kyle wondered. A pteranodon? Kyle had heard strange reports of disasters coming through the station house, but they were explainable. But what could explain dinosaurs flying around?

When Jay and Kimberly carried the rest of the equipment to the base of the mountain, Kyle tried to examine the rock face. It would be an easy climb over the boulders and loose rock at the bottom, but above that the rock face quickly became vertical. Shirley returned from talking to the mother while he was still mapping his climbing route.

“She’s terrified. We’d better get up there quick and settle this one way or another.” Shirley looked up to the overhang where the girl had disappeared. “We can do this free climb.”

“No we can’t,” Kyle responded quickly.

Shirley looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“There’s two of them, remember? We want to be anchored if the other one comes after us.”

Sure that Shirley saw right through him, Kyle quickly changed the subject.

“Not only that, but that guy back there,” he said nodding to the pale man, “well, he said the bird up there was a dinosaur. Really! He called it a pteranodon.”

“No such thing, Officer Kyle.”

“You think a condor could lift a little girl?”

“Depends on how much she weighs,” Shirley said thoughtfully. “But I doubt it in this case. Chrissy is three years old. I’ll bet she weighs thirty pounds.”

“Then what lifted her up this mountain?”

Shirley frowned, then turned to Kyle with an infectious smile.

“I give up. Let’s go see.”

“Another thing, Shirley. I want you to take a gun.”

“No thanks. I don’t know how to use one anyway. I’d probably end up shooting you. I’ll take the first aid pack,” she said holding out her hand.

Kyle had no intention of getting shot, so he quickly agreed with Shirley. The first part would be a free climb through the loose rock and boulders. Then they would take separate routes up the face, setting pitons. Once the first piton was set Jay and Kimberly could belay their fall. Because of the size difference it was decided. Jay would act as belayer for Kyle and Kimberly for Shirley.

Kyle stood at the base of the mountain, running over his training in his mind. His climbing skills were a tool, not a hobby, and seldom used. Shirley and the others, however, spent weekends scaling mountains for fun.

When Kimberly and Jay were ready, Kyle followed Shirley, who was scrambling up the boulders to the beginning of the rock face. Kyle followed easily enough but found himself breathing hard when he caught up with her. Shirley was examining the rock above her and mapping her route. Kyle picked a spot thirty feet from Shirley and checked the rock face. It would be easier for Shirley. The cracks weren’t made for a size eleven climbing boot.

“Climbing!”

Kyle turned to see Shirley with her toe fitted into a crack about knee high.

“Hey, Shirley!” Kyle called, stopping her before she could get started. “You like movies?” Shirley nodded her head and smiled like she’d just been asked out on a date.

“Me too. I saw one once with a dinosaur like that one up there in it,” Kyle said, jerking his thumb upward.

Shirley looked at him quizzically. “What happened?”

“It swooped down and swallowed a person whole.”

Shirley shook her head, then smiled and patted her own bottom.

“Race you to the top, Officer Kyle.”

Kyle yelled, “Climbing!” and Jay’s “climb” followed immediately. Kyle jammed his right toes into a good-size crack and then felt for others wide enough to grip with his fingers. When he found a satisfactory one he pulled himself up, ready to set his other foot.

Kyle made good progress. He was fifteen feet up when he noticed that Shirley was ahead of him. He managed a couple more steps before he heard Shirley yell “slack,” and set her first anchor. Kyle picked up his pace and climbed to a spot a few feet above Shirley’s anchor to set his own. He clipped a D carabiner to it and passed his rope through the spring catch. A wave of relief came as he realized his fall would now be limited by the anchor.

Only after his third anchor was Kyle climbing ahead of Shirley, which gave him great satisfaction. They continued seesawing up the rock face, setting pitons, clipping carabiners, and looping kermantle. As they approached the outcropping they angled in toward it with one of them on either side. Twenty feet below the ledge Kyle motioned for Shirley to stop and be quiet. He listened intently but heard nothing—no little girl, no prehistoric bird.

They proceeded up on either side of the outcrop, neither willing to hammer in a piton this close to the pteranodon. Now Kyle and Shirley had to climb out and up, and they lost sight of each other. As Kyle neared the top he debated whether to pop up suddenly, jump onto the ledge, and then pull his gun, or peek over the top slowly. He decided on slow and cautious. Caution was natural for Kyle.

He found toeholds and fingerholds and then slowly pulled his head above the rim of the outcrop. The first thing he saw was the massive head of the pteranodon—six feet of it lying against Kyle’s rock. Two enormous eyes were set in the middle of the spear-shaped face. Kyle sighed with relief when he saw the eyes were closed.

The pteranodon’s wings filled nearly the entire ledge, concealing the little girl. Across the other side of the ledge he saw Shirley. First her eyes appeared searching for the child. Then she stared at the pteranodon, caught Kyle’s eye, shook her head in disbelief, and mouthed, “Is it dead?” Kyle mouthed back, “I think so.” Shirley nodded, and then pushed herself up a little higher and took hold of the collapsed wing of the pteranodon. As she lifted it, stretching it out so that she could look under it for the little girl, the creature blew air through the nostrils in its beak.

Kyle dropped his head down and froze. It was alive. He thought about shooting it, but he couldn’t and still hang on.

Kyle pulled his head up again to find himself staring at the back of the pteranodon’s head. It had moved; its head was up now and its beak pointed at Shirley. The crest that protruded out the back was inches from Kyle’s face. Kyle followed the creature’s stare to Shirley, who had lifted the wing and was looking under the membrane for the little girl. As she started to lift another piece of wing, she looked up to find the pteranodon staring at her, and she froze. Kyle decided to grab the crest and hold the bird. He made sure his feet were secure, detached his rope and secured it in the rock, and pushed up slowly with his legs.

When Shirley started to lower the bird’s wing, the pteranodon’s mouth opened in a high-pitched screech. Then it lunged at Shirley, using its beak like a spear. Shirley flinched, bringing her hands up to deflect the thrust, but the bird was too fast—as her hands grasped the beak, the momentum of the thrust carried the beak into her chest, knocking her over the edge. Controlling his panic, Kyle reacted by pushing himself up and flopping onto the ledge. As soon as Kyle’s chest hit the rock, the pteranodon twisted to look at him. The crest was suddenly out of Kyle’s reach and he found himself staring down the three-foot beak into a pair of black, angry eyes.

The bird screeched again and began hopping, its unfolded left wing partially obscuring Kyle’s view. Kyle pulled both legs up onto the ledge as the pteranodon hopped trying to get at him. It was handicapped by its huge wingspan and its crippled wing. Now it began beating at Kyle with its good wing. Then the bird lunged again.

Kyle, stumbling backward, tripped over loose rock, falling against the cliff wall. The bird danced around and Kyle saw the beak coming at his stomach. He leapt sideways and grabbed the beak with both hands, holding it closed. The huge wings slapped at his body and face, but he kept his head down and let his shoulders absorb the blows. He was gaining confidence when something tore through his shirt and sliced the skin on his right shoulder.