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“Maybe there was an old Indian tribe that used be live here, do you think the bones are that old?”

“Could be. Let’s take a look at that big tunnel.” The possibility that all of these bones were intentionally piled here was unnerving. The amount of dead animals it would take to coat the floor with so much bone dust was unthinkable. Denny quickly headed for the larger tunnel, hoping there would be no more bones in there.

The large tunnel quickly narrowed to more of a hallway size with many small “rooms” to each side, all littered with various bones. Many of the rooms had another tunnel leading out from the far end. The boys followed these randomly. “Do you notice that smell getting stronger again?” Denny hissed.

“I thought it was your breath,” Billy replied, followed by a nervous snicker.

They entered the next room and were repelled by the stench. “What the hell…” Billy quickly pulled his shirt up over his face.

Denny did the same. “Let’s head back.”

“Wait.” Something had caught Denny’s flashlight beam. Something shiny across the cave. Keeping his shirt across his mouth and nose he slowly made his way across the large, circular room.

Before he could relocate the object, he heard Billy off to one side. “Oh, shit. Oh, Denny.”

Denny quickly scampered over and shined his light next to Billy’s. His stomach rebelled at the sight, threatening to launch this morning’s Frosted Flakes all over the cave floor. In the twin beams of their light lay a human skeleton. Fragments of leather laid next to it, maybe the remains of shoes or a belt. Denny’s mind whirled, wanting to shut down. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to panic like he did last time.

“Denny, let’s go, let’s go and never come back,” Billy whined, “We’ll tell Sheriff Crawford and that will be the end.”

Denny opened his eyes and tried to focus in the impenetrable darkness. “Wait, let’s think about this, Billy. This body has been here for a long, long time. It’s no worse than finding more animal bones.” He hoped his voice sounded calmer to Billy than it did to his own ears.

“Denny, this ain’t no fucking Indian. Look at this. It’s a kid, Denny.” his voice wavered near hysteria.

Denny looked again and knew Billy was right. The skeleton was approximately their size. “One more thing and then we’re out of here,” he turned and scanned his beam along the far side of the cave. There! A metallic reflection winked back at him. He scurried across the cave, dodging other partial skeletons along the way. He bent down and located the object that had caught his beam. He picked it up and held it to the light, somehow knowing deep down what it was.

A single word bounced back at him from the small silver rectangle and suddenly the cave was like a merry-go-round. Denny leaned over onto his knees, trying desperately to stay conscious. He was dimly aware of Billy behind him. Billy’s hand on his shoulder. Billy shining his own light on the small silver tag at the end of the chain. Billy muttering something when he read the word “BEAR” on the dog tag.

Denny forced himself to shine the light down at the skeleton. It was definitely the right size. The shiny white of the bones began to pulsate in and out of focus and Denny felt himself being pulled away. He stumbled along, letting Billy lead him until his head began to clear. He had no idea how far they’d gone when he stopped and grabbed Billy’s arm. “I’m okay now, are we going the right way?”

“Beats me, I just wanted to get you the hell out of there before I had to carry you out, which I practically did.” Billy’s voice had regained some of its natural confidence.

Denny was aware only of the cold metal in his hand and the rotting stench of death that permeated everything around him.

“Okay. Let’s keep going. As long as we’re heading uphill, we should be alright.” They went on for what seemed like hours, careful to mark their trail, growing more afraid every time they came upon one of the marks they left.

When they had to stop to replace the batteries in Billy’s flashlight, Denny began to feel panic creeping back over him. “We’re going in circles, Billy. We’ll never find our way out,” he was close to tears.

“Don’t, Denny, don’t you go fuckin’ losin’ it on me now!” His voice betrayed his attempt at bravery, but still Denny felt better knowing Billy was in control. “We just keep heading uphill. We took a few wrong turns, that’s all,” he screwed the cap back on his light. “Let’s go.”

They walked for another eternity when something along the far wall of the tunnel they were in caught Denny’s eye. It was just a lighter shade of black against a black wall, but Denny recognized it immediately. “Billy, the ladder!” Against the far wall were rungs imbedded in the stone, leading up. Billy shined his beam upwards where a circular cut-out was clearly visible. Billy scaled the ladder quickly and a moment later blinding sunlight filled the tunnel. Denny scampered quickly up the ladder, blinking in the bright light, letting its warmth pour over him. Never had the sun felt so good. They quickly put the cover back over the hole and sat down at the edge of the foundation.

The sun was high in the sky, making it probably after noon. They had been down there for over four hours! Denny couldn’t think of anything worse than what had just happened, except for the day he found out about Jimmy and his dad. Without warning, that memory invaded his head. The news that there had been an accident. His mother crying, telling him his big brother was dead. His father confined to the hospital bed, death waiting to take him. Never getting the chance to say goodbye to either of them. He held the dog tag up and read it again. Tears streamed down his face, etching lines in the dirt, and his body shook with sobs.

He felt Billy’s arm on his shoulders. Billy had been with him through it all. “It’s alright, Denny.”

Slowly Denny got control of himself, smearing his face as he wiped the tears. “I don’t think it will ever be alright, Billy.” He slipped the dog tag in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

(38)

The old man walked into the bank like a sinner walking into church. He felt like the eyes of everyone else were burning through him, not wanting to be in the same building as the smelly old man. Did that woman just pull her child a bit closer? Did that man’s nose just wrinkle in disgust? Yes to both, I believe. But I’m just a drunk who needs a drink, and paranoid to boot. He had cleaned up as best he could in the public bath house at Carson Beach, but there was only so much a man could do after so many years on the streets. He made his way quickly to the safe deposit boxes. With badly shaking hands, he removed the chain from around his neck and looked at the key. It amazed him that he’d worn it for all these years, yet never thought about it. Until he read that article, he wasn’t sure he even knew the key was there. Was that even possible? He held it close to his face and read the number stamped on the side: B391. It took him a few minutes to find the corresponding box, and a few more painful seconds for his trembling hands to ease the key into the lock. Before he opened the box he hesitated.

He had been a street person for more years than his booze-addled brain could recall. Until the story in the paper about Gunlinger, his life before the streets was a blur. The article had tripped a switch in his head, but the lights were slow to come on, they were still warming up. The key around his neck was the first step, but he honestly had no idea what he would find when he opened the box. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, thinking about the bottle he had given away the night before. Finally, he swung the door open wide, and when he realized what the box held, his eyes opened wider. The box was full of cash. Not small bills either. Packages of twenties, lots of them. “What… where did I…”