The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) (13 page)

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a white man or woman in
here,
the man said.
Even
longer since it was a medicine man or woman.

Are you Shipewe?
Deem asked.

How do you know my name?
the man replied.

The man who told us about this place,
Deem said.
Aldus.

I remember Aldus,
Shipewe said.
It was a long time ago.

He’s dead now,
Winn offered.

I would expect so,
Shipewe replied.
Are you here for the rock’s dust?

Yes,
Deem answered.
We have a vacuum box over there, it’s collecting some.

There is plenty, and you are welcome to it. What are your
names?

I’m Deem, and he’s Winn,
she replied.

She speaks for you?
Shipewe asked Winn.

A lot of the time, yes,
Winn replied.

Then I will talk with her,
Shipewe said to Winn, turning back to Deem.
You
are welcome to collect the rock dust, but you must not go deeper into the cave.
There is an evil spirit trapped there many years ago by my ancestors, and it is
very dangerous.

Aldus told us about it,
Deem replied.
We’re just going to wait here until
the vacuum box is full.

You will use the dust for medicine?
Shipewe asked.

Yes,
Deem answered.
A girl is sick. We’re collecting it to cure her.

Shipewe nodded an approval.

How long has it been, Winn?

Winn checked his watch.
Another twenty minutes to go.

We’ll leave soon,
Deem said.

You must be careful,
Shipewe said.
Tankawa starts his patrol presently. He’s
easily frightened, and he makes a loud cry when he’s alarmed. If he sees you,
it will be difficult for you to leave without him waking the others.

Can you talk to him? Ask him not to be alarmed if he sees us?

I will try,
Shipewe replied,
but he is young and doesn’t realize our
people have changed. When they arise, they are no longer peaceful, as they used
to be. They come out of the ground angry, and bloodthirsty.

We’ll leave as quietly and as quickly as we can,
Deem replied.
Should we cut it
short, Winn?

I think we should,
Winn replied.
It might not require a full box of callum to
cure Carma’s niece. For all we know, we have more than enough already. I don’t
want to get caught with an angry mob chasing us through that hole.

Thank you, Shipewe,
Deem said.
We appreciate your advice.

Good luck to you both,
Shipewe said, and turned, drifting back the way he’d come.

Why can’t all ghosts be like that?
Deem said to Winn.

I know,
Winn replied.

Deem dropped out of the River, rose and stretched, then
grabbed the vacuum box from the gypsum chandelier and closed the lid. She
stuffed it into her backpack, and the two of them walked quickly to the split
in the rock, almost catching up with Shipewe in the process.

Inside the necropolis, only Shipewe’s figure could be seen.
He was moving away from them, toward a spot near the center of the room. Winn
aimed his flashlight at the ground and the two of them moved through the graves
as rapidly and silently as possible.

When they were two-thirds of the way to the stone archway,
Winn stopped and pointed at a figure across the room from them. It was moving
in the same direction they were, toward the archway that led to the first room.
As they resumed their walking, the figure moved farther, and Deem realized it
would cut them off right at the room’s exit. As Winn came closer to the
archway, he tried stopping, hoping the figure would continue moving, and they
could wait for it to pass before proceeding, but it came to a stop as soon as
they did, and it resumed moving when Winn took a step. A confrontation was
coming.

The figure reached the archway just before them, and stood in
front of it, blocking their way. The ghostly image was tall, broad shouldered,
and floating a few inches off the ground, which gave it an imposing height.
Deem badly wanted to drop into the River, but resisted. Shipewe had been one
thing, but this figure, Tankawa, and the way it had cut them off, seemed
anything but safe.

Deem and Winn stood frozen side by side, waiting to see what
the figure would do. Winn clicked off his flashlight, and Tankawa became more
visible. Not as vivid as a viewing in the River would provide, but enough that
Deem could see his arms and hands.

Tankawa moved slowly toward them. He raised his hand, and a
finger extended to Winn. Deem watched as the finger touched his cheek, and Winn
silently winced.

Then Tankawa moved to her, and she braced herself. His finger
approached her face, and she felt an electrical charge around her. Hair on her
arms began to stand on end, and she felt a tingling in her cheek where his
finger was approaching. When it touched her, she felt a blast of sharp pain, a
cold that shot into her and began to spread through her head.

She whimpered; the tiniest, faintest whimper of pain.

Tankawa opened his mouth and let out a scream that
reverberated throughout the chamber.
That’ll literally wake the dead,
Deem thought.

She saw Winn turn to look into the necropolis behind them, so
she turned as well. Hundreds of ghosts were rising from the graves, like
zombies digging themselves out of the dirt.

Winn clicked on his flashlight and took off running, Deem
following right behind him. They passed through Tankawa just as he became
corporeal, and Deem knew he’d be on their heels, ready to slash at them with
hands that could tear flesh.

Winn was running as fast as he could while navigating around
the structures in the large room. The green X glowed in the distance, seemingly
a million miles away.

“Come on!” Winn called after Deem, who turned on her
flashlight as well. They raced in and around the low-rising brick walls, their
target in the distance slowly approaching. The room began to fill with the
screams and echoes of the ghosts as they spilled through the archway, all
becoming corporeal, all turning to zombighosts, all able to rip through them if
they reached them. Deem imagined herself and Winn as two shredded bodies, lying
near the exit hole, found by Warren. She couldn’t let that happen. She doubled
her resolve and increased her speed.

She darted around the small structures on the ground, mindful
that a trip could mean death. Winn was ahead of her, but she couldn’t see the
exact path he was running, so she made her own, keeping the green X in the
distance as her goal. Progress was hampered by rock outcroppings and sudden
appearances of rubble. She came upon a slowly rising section of adobe bricks
and a wall, about four feet tall, straight ahead. She leapt, using her hands on
the wall to catapult herself up and over, landing with a thud on the other side
and immediately resuming her race. For a brief second she lost track of the X,
but then rounded another structure and saw it — now only feet away.

They came upon the hole below the X at the same time and each
slid to a stop. They could hear the ghosts behind them, unsure of how much time
they’d have before they’d catch up.

“You first,” Winn said. “If I get stuck, at least it won’t
stop you from getting out.”

Deem had her backpack off and into the hole within seconds,
and pushed and shimmied her way through the hole as rapidly as she could. She
felt Winn’s backpack at her feet, following closely.

Winn let out a scream of pain, and Deem moved faster. Going
back up the hole was slightly uphill, and it was a little harder than coming
down it. She imagined one of the zombighosts at Winn’s feet, slashing at them
in the same way his friend Brent had been attacked so many years ago.  She kept
shoving her backpack and sliding, pulling herself along. She dug her knees into
the rock to push herself forward, and pain shot through them as she felt her
skin scrape inside her jeans.

Finally her backpack fell away in front of her, and the
entrance appeared. She slid from it as quickly as she could, then stood and
turned. Winn’s backpack surfaced, and she grabbed it, tossing it aside. When
she saw Winn’s hand, she grabbed onto it and pulled, tugging him from the hole.
He spilled out of it and onto her, and the two of them fell back, scrambling on
their hands and knees from under the rock ceiling to where the light from
outside reached the edge of the granary.

They watched as face after face appeared at the hole’s
entrance, angry and searching, turned away immediately by the light. Dozens
appeared, one after the other.

She turned to Winn and looked at his legs, expecting the
worst. He had a long gash on his calf, and his boots were tattered, but the
rest of him was fine.

“How deep is that cut?” Deem asked.

Winn poked at it. “It’s bleeding, but I don’t think it’s
deep. Look at this,” he said, showing her the sole of one of his boots. It had
a slash in it so deep you could see his socks.

“Goddamn, I hope this was worth it,” Deem replied, trying to
catch her breath, waiting for her heart to calm down. She watched as the faces
continued to appear at the hole, snarling and pulling back as they encountered
the light. She reached for her backpack and removed a water bottle, opened it,
and drank half. Then she handed it to Winn, who finished it off. They crawled
together from the granary and back to the cliff’s edge, searching for the ropes
they’d use to scale back down, retrieve their camping gear, and hike out as
quickly as they could to Winn’s Jeep, parked miles away.

Deem placed the box on Lizzy’s chest. She watched as it moved
up and down slowly, Lizzy taking impossibly long between breaths.
No wonder
Ester was ready to take her to the hospital
, she thought.

She opened the lid to the box and moved back, bumping into
Ester who had been right behind her. “Let’s leave her to inhale it for a
while,” Deem said, and they left the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“Your timing is perfect,” Ester said as they returned to the
living room. “Brethren from the ward just left. They gave her a blessing. I
just know that it will work.”

“I went to a lot of trouble to get the stuff that Lizzy is
inhaling right now,” Deem replied, irritated. “If she recovers, it’s because of
that stuff, not because of some priesthood blessing.”

Ester gave her a disapproving look. “That’s a rather strong
statement,” Ester said. “How can you say the priesthood didn’t play a role?”

“No one ever blames the priesthood when it doesn’t work, do
they?” Deem said. “That’s just bad luck or God’s will or fate or something like
that, right? Never that the priesthood didn’t work. Why didn’t you try them
earlier?”

“I did,” Ester replied. “Days ago. This is her third
blessing.”

Deem lowered her head, knowing she was engaged in a losing
conversation. “Let’s wait and see what happens,” she said, staring at the
ground.

“Will it work quickly?” Ester asked.

“I don’t know,” Deem replied. “The woman who suggested this solution
didn’t say how long it would take. We’ll just have to be patient.”

“I’ve been waiting so long as it is,” Ester said. “I hope it’s
soon.” She walked to the television and turned it on. An old man standing at a lectern
appeared, speaking slowly with a low voice. She saw the Brigham Young University
logo in the bottom corner of the screen, and Deem realized that Ester intended
to pass the time by listening to BYU devotionals. She couldn’t think of
anything she cared to listen to less.

“Listen, I’m going to go,” Deem said. “There’s not much more
I can do. I’ll come back for the vacuum box later, so just hold onto it for me.
Let me know when she revives, alright?”

“I will,” Ester said, escorting Deem to the door.

▪ ▪ ▪

Deem received the call as she was approaching Hurricane.
Ester was sobbing into the phone, describing how Lizzy sat up, walked into the
living room, and sat down on the couch to watch the devotional with her, as
though nothing had ever happened. She thanked Deem and asked her to pass her
thanks on to Carma and to tell her she’d give her a call tomorrow. Deem hung up
the phone, grateful that Ester hadn’t credited the priesthood with Lizzy’s recovery.
At least, not to me,
she thought.

As she crested the hill that descended into Hurricane, she
was surprised to see dark smoke on the horizon. Something in the distance was
burning, something unusually large, and it was sending a huge column of thick
black smoke into the air. She reached for the radio.

“…old cannery south of St. George where a massive explosion
occurred around twenty minutes ago. Residents in the Desert Hills area say the
blast was so powerful, it broke out windows in their homes. City police and the
fire department are at the scene, trying to bring the blaze under control…”

Carma,
Deem thought.
Carma and Lyman. What did they do?

She drove to Leeds and back to Carma’s estate, where she
parked her truck, grabbed her half empty Big Gulp, and walked into the house.
Carma and Winn were inside, sitting in the large room that overlooked the back
yard.

“How’s Lizzy?” Carma asked.

“Fine, much better,” Deem said, sinking into her favorite
chair and rattling the remaining ice in her drink. “I have to go back for the
vacuum box sometime, that’s all.”

“You didn’t stay until she recovered?” Carma asked.

“Ester was playing BYU devotionals on the TV and going on and
on about priesthood blessings. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Oh, I understand completely,” Carma replied. “I’d have left,
too.”

“Ester called me to say Lizzy is up and walking around, so it
worked,” Deem said. “And she said to thank you and that she’d be calling you
soon.”

“Thank you, my dear, you’ve both been so helpful the past few
days while I’ve been so busy,” Carma said.

“Busy,” Deem repeated.

Carma turned to her. “Yes, busy.” Then she turned away.

“How’s the leg?” Deem asked Winn, who had his bandaged calf
propped up and resting on an ottoman.

“Carma doesn’t think it needs stitches,” he replied. “I’ll
keep it bandaged up for a few days. Stings, though.”

“The ghosts these days, since the testing,” Carma said. “So
diabolical, so much worse than before.”

“On another note,” Deem said, sucking up some Diet Coke from
her drink, “someone blew up the old cannery south of St. George.”

“Oh, was that what that loud bang was I heard a while back?”
Carma asked. Deem wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a slight smile in
Carma’s usually thin lips.

“It’s burning out of control at the moment,” Deem said.
“They’re trying to put out the fire.”

“Well, it was an eyesore,” Carma replied. “Good riddance.”

“How do you know someone blew it up?” Winn asked. “How do you
know it wasn’t just a fire? That place is so old, one spark would have set it
off.”

“Do you agree, Carma?” Deem asked. “It was just a fire?”

“Oh, most definitely,” she replied. “A veritable tinderbox.
Probably small children playing with matches. That’s what it usually is.” Deem
watched her as Carma uncharacteristically turned her head away from them to
stare out the windows.

“The radio said the blast was so large, it blew out windows
in people’s homes,” Deem said. She noticed Carma wringing her hands. “You know
who blew it up, don’t you?” she asked Carma.

Carma expelled a fake laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous! As I said,
it was probably children. They’re terrible little arsonists.”

“It wasn’t set on fire,” Deem said, “it was blown up. Was it
you and Lyman?”

Carma was clutching at her blouse, pulling the sides of its
V-neck together. “Why, whatever gave you that idea?” she said, looking around
the room desperately.

“You’re a terrible liar, Carma!” Deem said. “You had
something to do with it, I can tell! This is what you and Lyman were working on
the past few days, isn’t it?”

Carma rose to her feet. “I won’t be questioned!” she said
with a dramatic emphasis, trying a different tactic. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about, me and explosions. It’s completely absurd!”

“It’s OK with me if you did,” Deem said. “I assume you and
Lyman have a good reason. It’s just an old cannery. As long as no one got
hurt.”

Carma turned away from her again, looking out the windows.

“No one got hurt, did they? Carma?” Deem asked.

Carma didn’t reply. Deem looked at Winn, who was looking back
at her questioningly. “Why would Carma blow up the cannery?” Winn asked Deem.

 “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,” Deem replied. “Carma?
Why? It’s obvious you were involved, you can’t lie for shit.”

“I don’t think anyone got hurt,” Carma said. “It wasn’t
planned that way. I hope no one did.”

“So you were involved?” Deem asked.

“It’s Lyman’s plan,” Carma said, letting out a big sigh, as
if she’d been holding her breath. “I’m just one of the people executing it. The
cannery was used to store equipment for the council. This was retaliation for
Claude’s murder.”

Deem’s mouth dropped open.

“It’s always bombs with you Mormons,” Winn said.

“Why not just tell us?” Deem asked.

Carma turned back to face Deem. “Because, my dear, I feared
that your father might have stored his journals there. I was worried that this
would destroy them. And if I’m right, they’re lost now. I wanted to wait until
you had a chance to infiltrate it and see, to make sure they weren’t there, but
Lyman decided to go ahead with the bombing anyway. We were under a certain time
pressure; Lyman was worried they’d discover our plan and move their assets out
before we could complete it. He felt your father’s journals were not there. I
wasn’t so sure. So I didn’t want to tell you about it, for that reason.”

Deem slowly leaned back in her chair, unsure of how to
respond. Carma was wringing her hands in front of her, waiting for a reply, but
she didn’t know what to say. Finally she spoke.

“So all the while I’m off looking for shit to help out Lizzy,
you two are here planning to blow up my father’s journals?”

“Hey, I wasn’t involved!” Winn said.

“I meant Carma and Lyman,” Deem replied.

“It’s not quite like that,” Carma said. “Lyman felt the
retaliation for Claude’s murder had to be big and swift. The explosion at the
cannery has wiped out almost all of their physical assets. They had a huge
weapons cache there, along with all kinds of nefarious objects.”

“And my father’s journals?” Deem asked.

“I felt they
might
be there,” Carma said. “It was one
place they could be, if they exist. But Lyman insisted they weren’t there.
There’s good reason to believe Lyman. He’s usually right.”

“But you didn’t believe him?” Deem asked. “That’s why you
didn’t want to tell me about it?”

“Basically,” Carma said, sitting back down. “That and Lyman
swore me to secrecy. I know how much those journals mean to you. If there was a
chance they were there, I wanted you to have an opportunity to find them.”

“Maybe I should talk to Lyman,” Deem said.

“Oh, he’s going to be very cross with me for telling you,”
Carma said. “I’m not going down when you talk to him.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Carma,” Deem said. “I knew
something was going on. I figured it out on my own. You tried your best to hide
it, but you’re just not very good at covering things up.”

“Yes, I’m horrible at that, I know, just awful at it,” she
replied, reaching for a cigarette and lighting it. “That’s one of the reasons
Lyman doesn’t like me to leave the house.”

“When does the moon rise tonight?” Deem asked.

“Around 9:30,” Carma replied. “Lyman is probably right, you
know. I just wanted you to check to be sure, before we blew it up. If he says
your father’s journals weren’t at the cannery, they probably were not.”

“I’d like to hear that from him,” Deem said. “If that’s all
right with you.”

“Perfectly fine with me, dear,” Carma said. “He likes you a
lot, anyway. You telling him that you found out about all this instead of me
telling him seems like the preferable option.”

They sat in silence for a moment, no one saying anything,
each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts.

“I’m going to scan documents for a while,” Deem said, rising
up from the chair. “Excuse me.”

She walked out of the drawing room and back to the office
near the front of the house where Claude’s files were stored. She opened her
laptop and while it booted up she could hear Winn and Carma talking quietly in
the other room.

Talking about me and my reaction, no doubt,
she thought.

The clock on her laptop read 6:30. She hadn’t had anything to
eat since she stopped at a drive thru on her drive out to Fredonia, but she
wasn’t hungry. She’d lost her appetite.

She picked up the next document in the banker’s box and
placed it on the glass of the scanner, then clicked her laptop. The bright
light of the scanner tossed out moving light into the room from the edges of
the scanner’s lid. She lifted the lid and pulled off the document, flipped it
over, and lowered the lid.

She kept it up for three hours.

▪ ▪ ▪

“Lyman?” she called, alone in the underground tunnel. Carma
had definitely elected to remain upstairs, and Winn had said he would accompany
her if she wanted, but he was limping and she didn’t feel like she needed any anyone
to go with her. She preferred to talk to Lyman on her own.

“Lyman, come out please,” she said, sitting at the sole piece
of furniture in the room, a small table with two chairs. Deem imagined Carma
sitting where she was sitting now, plotting with Lyman in the other chair.

As if on cue, Lyman appeared in the chair, exactly the way
she’d imagined him. Deem dropped into the River.

Is this the table where you plot bombings?
Deem asked.

Lyman smiled at her.
Rhetorical? Or sarcasm? Maybe both?

It’s just a question,
Deem replied, looking away from him. His stare was too
penetrative, and it bothered her.
Are the explosives stored here? Am I
sleeping each night on top of a powder keg?