The Zone Unknown 03 - Raptor by Paul Zindel

Author:Paul Zindel
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Graymalkin Media
Published: 2011-07-27T05:00:00+00:00

7

APPROACHING…

Picasso raced toward the center of the huge chamber. He began to sniff at the ground and stalk a scent in ever-widening circles. “We’ve got to hurry and find Honker,” Zack said, “or Bones is going to have every local trapper hunting down here.”

Uta followed Zack, weaving through a forest of yellow-and-red stalagmites.

“You know, I’ve been wondering why you don’t like it here in Utah,” Uta said. “Maybe you just weren’t doing anything. What you needed was a raptor hunt where you might be eaten at any minute. That probably makes you feel like you’re back in L.A. You know, drive-by devourings …”

Zack smiled, but his eyes searched carefully about the vastness of the great cave. He decided to take out one of the flares from his backpack and light it. The flare sparked, then began to glow with a steady light. Here, the cave and the mine blended into a mixture of man-made gizmos and startling nature. The far end of the cave narrowed as if it were a huge, glistening throat, stalactites hanging everywhere like icicles. The sides of the cave were lined with rows of ornate limestone towers. Elevated ore chutes and mine car railways shot every which way through the space like swords thrust into a huge magician’s cabinet.

Uta checked the map. “There are supposed to be petroglyphs somewhere around here.”

“There,” Zack said, turning the lights from his helmet onto a tremendous slab of granite looming beside the entrance to a tunnel. The paintings at the center of the slab were hunting scenes, bowmen confronting a quarry of bighorn sheep. Below them were charcoal and pigmented drawings of snakes, and shamans in horned head-dresses with rainbow-colored feathers. Closest to the tunnel entrance itself was a distinct rendering of a flute player with a rope dancing upward.

“The safe route must be the tunnel,” Uta said.

Zack didn’t answer. He was busy watching Picasso. The dog had stopped circling. “Why’s he staring up at the ore chutes?” he said.

Uta turned to look. The lights on her helmet shot out across the expanse and lit up the chutes and mine tracks. She turned back to examine the petroglyph nearest the chutes. There were paintings of immense furry beasts with huge teeth and multiple heads. One monster was shown flying with a bleeding fox in its jaws. “Spider Grandma said that the monster drawings will only lead to death,” Uta said. “We have to follow the flute player and dancing rope.”

“Listen,” Zack said.

“What?”

“Just listen.”

Finally, Uta heard sounds—as though the highest reaches of the cave were whispering. “It’s probably the wind.”

“No,” Zack said. “It’s like … growling.”

“We have to follow the flute—”

“I’ll check out the chutes.”

“No—”

“You wait here,” Zack said.

“Call Spider Grandma back,” Uta said. “Let’s ask her.” She grabbed the cell phone, pulled up its antenna, and held the receiver up to her ear. “There’s no dial tone.”

“We’ve moved deeper into the cave.”

“Then let’s go back.”

The flare began to sputter and went out. Zack considered a retreat—but he remembered his father. How overworked and depressed he’d become under Bones’s thumb.

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