what the hell I was supposed to find was trapped behind terror-stricken eyes and inside of a body that was rapidly failing him.
I bellowed in frustration and fell to my knees in the middle of the room. I cried tears of frustration and anger. Anger at my grandfather for a condition beyond his control and a situation beyond mine, but mostly at myself for being so stupid that I couldn’t see what at the time must have been obvious. Whatever it was had to still be here or there would have been no reason to keep it locked up and the site concealed. What in the name of God was I missing?
Something about that last thought gave me a tip-of-the-tongue sensation, as though my mind had made a connection it couldn’t consciously communicate to me.
I ran through the same thought processes again. Anguish and despair leading to feelings of misdirected anger at my grandfather when I was really mad at myself for my shortcomings with so much depending upon me. I could feel the seconds ticking away toward the coming dusk and I feared I would not be strong enough to protect what little I had left from Lord only knew what—
There it was again. That sensation of being on the verge of an epiphany.
I closed my eyes and focused on recreating my thoughts with the utmost precision. From my feelings to my fear of failure to my exasperation at not knowing what the hell—
That was it. Hell. God. They were concepts unique to Christianity, which didn’t reach this area of the world until well after the Anasazi had vanished into the mists of time. They had believed that they came from the earth itself, birthed from the core and led up into the light. That was why there were so many kivas in any Anasazi village from here to Chaco Canyon, why they spent so much time worshipping what most believed were their ancestors, who had risen to the surface from the darkness contained, at least metaphorically, within the sipapu.
I crawled over to the sipapu. Shook the rattle as hard as I could. In the blue glow I saw…nothing. I reached inside and felt along the smooth sides, ran my fingers across the bottom, where all I felt was a notched divot in the center. There was nothing inside. Nothing at all. It was just an empty hole that literally went nowhere.
I’d been so certain I had figured it out. And now I had absolutely no idea how to continue. I knew next to nothing about my own heritage, let alone that of the tribe that disappeared before either the Navajo or the Ute settled in this area. A thousand years ago, anyone finding this chamber would have known exactly what to do to unlock its secrets, but now everything was so old that the smears of blood had dried to little more than powder and a layer of dust covered everything except—
The spear lying beside the hand of the dead man, the one with the notches in its base, and the cross with the hole in the center I’d initially thought was some kind of boomerang.
I turned on my flashlight again and walked over to where the remains of the man were sprawled behind the deflector. I knelt and looked more closely at how he had fallen. His had been the lone body lying in a fetal position. Maybe he hadn’t been trying to hide in an effort to save his skin, but rather to conceal the spear with his body, his final valiant act. I lifted the spear and was surprised by its weight. It wasn’t made of wood like I’d guessed. It was obsidian—black volcanic stone—chiseled down to the width of a spear, only one conspicuously lacking a spearhead. There was a curious ridge around the middle, like a square ring on a finger.
I carried it back to the sipapu and shoved its base down into the divot in the bottom. Turned it until the notches aligned. I felt the ground give, however slightly. A harder thrust and I embedded the staff with a clicking sound. Waited for something to happen.
Seconds passed.
A half-minute.
Nothing.
I gripped it and shoved it downward with all of my might, but this time there was no
I bellowed in frustration and fell to my knees in the middle of the room. I cried tears of frustration and anger. Anger at my grandfather for a condition beyond his control and a situation beyond mine, but mostly at myself for being so stupid that I couldn’t see what at the time must have been obvious. Whatever it was had to still be here or there would have been no reason to keep it locked up and the site concealed. What in the name of God was I missing?
Something about that last thought gave me a tip-of-the-tongue sensation, as though my mind had made a connection it couldn’t consciously communicate to me.
I ran through the same thought processes again. Anguish and despair leading to feelings of misdirected anger at my grandfather when I was really mad at myself for my shortcomings with so much depending upon me. I could feel the seconds ticking away toward the coming dusk and I feared I would not be strong enough to protect what little I had left from Lord only knew what—
There it was again. That sensation of being on the verge of an epiphany.
I closed my eyes and focused on recreating my thoughts with the utmost precision. From my feelings to my fear of failure to my exasperation at not knowing what the hell—
That was it. Hell. God. They were concepts unique to Christianity, which didn’t reach this area of the world until well after the Anasazi had vanished into the mists of time. They had believed that they came from the earth itself, birthed from the core and led up into the light. That was why there were so many kivas in any Anasazi village from here to Chaco Canyon, why they spent so much time worshipping what most believed were their ancestors, who had risen to the surface from the darkness contained, at least metaphorically, within the sipapu.
I crawled over to the sipapu. Shook the rattle as hard as I could. In the blue glow I saw…nothing. I reached inside and felt along the smooth sides, ran my fingers across the bottom, where all I felt was a notched divot in the center. There was nothing inside. Nothing at all. It was just an empty hole that literally went nowhere.
I’d been so certain I had figured it out. And now I had absolutely no idea how to continue. I knew next to nothing about my own heritage, let alone that of the tribe that disappeared before either the Navajo or the Ute settled in this area. A thousand years ago, anyone finding this chamber would have known exactly what to do to unlock its secrets, but now everything was so old that the smears of blood had dried to little more than powder and a layer of dust covered everything except—
The spear lying beside the hand of the dead man, the one with the notches in its base, and the cross with the hole in the center I’d initially thought was some kind of boomerang.
I turned on my flashlight again and walked over to where the remains of the man were sprawled behind the deflector. I knelt and looked more closely at how he had fallen. His had been the lone body lying in a fetal position. Maybe he hadn’t been trying to hide in an effort to save his skin, but rather to conceal the spear with his body, his final valiant act. I lifted the spear and was surprised by its weight. It wasn’t made of wood like I’d guessed. It was obsidian—black volcanic stone—chiseled down to the width of a spear, only one conspicuously lacking a spearhead. There was a curious ridge around the middle, like a square ring on a finger.
I carried it back to the sipapu and shoved its base down into the divot in the bottom. Turned it until the notches aligned. I felt the ground give, however slightly. A harder thrust and I embedded the staff with a clicking sound. Waited for something to happen.
Seconds passed.
A half-minute.
Nothing.
I gripped it and shoved it downward with all of my might, but this time there was no
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