altitude for too long without oxygen. Apparently some forms of altitude disease are irreversible.
Meltzer got up and approached the rescue worker. He leaned against the wall and slid down next to him. He folded his hands around his knees and looked lowered his head.
“You ever hear about those crop circles? You know how a cornfield is carved up into geometric patterns overnight?” Meltzer asked.
“Yeah,” Ames said. “The ones they say aliens made?”
“That’s them,” Meltzer said. “There was a lot of speculation that college kids did it as a prank.”
“Didn’t they?”
Meltzer kept his gaze on the floor. “Well, I always thought so, but a few years back a group of scientists attempted to carve up a similar cornfield. They spent a week with sophisticated tools trying to mimic the exact pattern left by an overnight visitor. You know what they found?”
Ames was mesmerized. “What?”
“They couldn’t do it.” Meltzer looked up at the man. “No matter how hard they tried they couldn’t match the precision of the patterns done overnight.”
Ames wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s that mean?”
“It means there isn’t always an answer for everything,” Meltzer said, looking the man in the eyes. “Some things defy explanation. And we need to accept them, no matter the improbability.”
The silence hung between them while Meltzer kept watch. The rescue worker
seemed to be coming to terms with what he’d witnessed.
Finally, Meltzer cocked his head. “Did you see something up on that mountain
that defied explanation, Mr. Ames?”
Ames rubbed a rough hand over his face. “I saw the explosion from five miles away. It lit up the afternoon sky, which was dark to begin with. I knew no one could survive that kind of crash, but I packed up my snowmobile and got up there within a couple of hours. That was the only way up and I was the closest. I had to hike the final couple of miles in some difficult terrain.”
Ames looked over at Meltzer and continued. “She was lying in the snow next to the burned-out fuselage with her . . .” he stopped to chew on a loose cuticle and spit it out. “She was cut bad. Her face looked like a bowl of chili. Then as I’m getting closer I notice her arm was twisted behind her. It looked completely broken.”
Meltzer’s stomach tightened, but he kept still.
The rescue worker licked a pair of dry lips. “She wasn’t bleeding though. I should have picked up on that. At first I thought it was the cold temperatures, but then I’m . . . I’m watching her maneuver her arm into place. One minute it looked broken, the next it seemed fine.”
Ames was trembling. Bubbles of sweat dotted his forehead. “Then she began speaking some language I’ve never heard before. I thought maybe she was a foreigner, but the language was so odd.”
Ames stared out into the open space in front of him, his eyes were thousands of miles away. “Then I realize her face was beginning to heal. By the time we finally got her to the hospital, they couldn’t find one broken bone. Not one tiny scrape. Her face was immaculate.”
Meltzer sat still and let the fertile juices flow out of the rescue worker’s taxed mind.
“Of course I put it all in a report, and you know what they did?”
Meltzer shook his head.
“They gave me a leave of absence. Told me I’ve been out in the conditions for too long and suffered from hypothermia. They said my judgment was impaired.”
“Maybe it was?” Meltzer said, then instantly regretted it.
“I saw what I saw!” Ames shouted, shifting his position as if he were ready to come after Meltzer.
The detective held up his hands in retreat.
Ames took a breath and settled back against the wall. “Even before the reinforcements came, she was up and walking around. She was in shock. Kept asking me where he was.”
“Where who was?”
“Beats me,” Ames said. “I guess I was in shock myself. Seeing that plane and the carnage.
Meltzer got up and approached the rescue worker. He leaned against the wall and slid down next to him. He folded his hands around his knees and looked lowered his head.
“You ever hear about those crop circles? You know how a cornfield is carved up into geometric patterns overnight?” Meltzer asked.
“Yeah,” Ames said. “The ones they say aliens made?”
“That’s them,” Meltzer said. “There was a lot of speculation that college kids did it as a prank.”
“Didn’t they?”
Meltzer kept his gaze on the floor. “Well, I always thought so, but a few years back a group of scientists attempted to carve up a similar cornfield. They spent a week with sophisticated tools trying to mimic the exact pattern left by an overnight visitor. You know what they found?”
Ames was mesmerized. “What?”
“They couldn’t do it.” Meltzer looked up at the man. “No matter how hard they tried they couldn’t match the precision of the patterns done overnight.”
Ames wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s that mean?”
“It means there isn’t always an answer for everything,” Meltzer said, looking the man in the eyes. “Some things defy explanation. And we need to accept them, no matter the improbability.”
The silence hung between them while Meltzer kept watch. The rescue worker
seemed to be coming to terms with what he’d witnessed.
Finally, Meltzer cocked his head. “Did you see something up on that mountain
that defied explanation, Mr. Ames?”
Ames rubbed a rough hand over his face. “I saw the explosion from five miles away. It lit up the afternoon sky, which was dark to begin with. I knew no one could survive that kind of crash, but I packed up my snowmobile and got up there within a couple of hours. That was the only way up and I was the closest. I had to hike the final couple of miles in some difficult terrain.”
Ames looked over at Meltzer and continued. “She was lying in the snow next to the burned-out fuselage with her . . .” he stopped to chew on a loose cuticle and spit it out. “She was cut bad. Her face looked like a bowl of chili. Then as I’m getting closer I notice her arm was twisted behind her. It looked completely broken.”
Meltzer’s stomach tightened, but he kept still.
The rescue worker licked a pair of dry lips. “She wasn’t bleeding though. I should have picked up on that. At first I thought it was the cold temperatures, but then I’m . . . I’m watching her maneuver her arm into place. One minute it looked broken, the next it seemed fine.”
Ames was trembling. Bubbles of sweat dotted his forehead. “Then she began speaking some language I’ve never heard before. I thought maybe she was a foreigner, but the language was so odd.”
Ames stared out into the open space in front of him, his eyes were thousands of miles away. “Then I realize her face was beginning to heal. By the time we finally got her to the hospital, they couldn’t find one broken bone. Not one tiny scrape. Her face was immaculate.”
Meltzer sat still and let the fertile juices flow out of the rescue worker’s taxed mind.
“Of course I put it all in a report, and you know what they did?”
Meltzer shook his head.
“They gave me a leave of absence. Told me I’ve been out in the conditions for too long and suffered from hypothermia. They said my judgment was impaired.”
“Maybe it was?” Meltzer said, then instantly regretted it.
“I saw what I saw!” Ames shouted, shifting his position as if he were ready to come after Meltzer.
The detective held up his hands in retreat.
Ames took a breath and settled back against the wall. “Even before the reinforcements came, she was up and walking around. She was in shock. Kept asking me where he was.”
“Where who was?”
“Beats me,” Ames said. “I guess I was in shock myself. Seeing that plane and the carnage.
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