One of the men turned away and retched.
Sister Amelia would never dance again. The timber had caught her across the top of her forehead and reduced it to a mush of brain and bone and hair. One eye had popped from its socket; the other had rolled up into her head, showing only the white. Her face was barely recognizable.
Nate looked away. He saw several Shakers trying to lift another beam and went to help. This time it was a young woman who had been pinned; her shoulder was shattered. She would live but be crippled for life.
The sobbing and wails, the smell of blood, the dust, and the gathering twilight lent a ghastly pall to the rescue efforts. Nate did what he could and after half an hour was caked with sweat, weary to his core, and sickened at heart. The last of the timbers had been moved. The last survivor rescued. When Jeremiah Blunt nudged him and motioned, Nate nodded and followed him out.
The cool night breeze was invigorating, for all of one breath. Nate sucked it into his lungs and wished he hadn’t. A foul stench filled the valley, a reek like that of eggs gone rotten. Covering his mouth and nose, he breathed shallowly.
“I am not waiting for morning,” Jeremiah Blunt declared. “I am gathering my men and leaving within the hour.”
“I’m surprised you’re not long gone,” Nate said.
“Unloading took longer than I expected. I decided to stay over and leave first thing tomorrow.” He gazed about them. “I’m glad I did. These people needed our help.”
“They shouldn’t be here.”
“Perhaps between us we can persuade them it’s in their best interests to pack up and get out before another earthquake strikes.”
From out of the dark came Maklin. He was covered with dust and favoring his left leg. “I was over at that building they were putting up,” he answered when Nate asked why. “Sprained my ankle helping to lift a beam.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Five men are dead. Three others won’t be walking for a while.”
“It could have been worse,” Blunt said.
Maklin tilted his head and went to put his hat back on, and froze. “What the hell are those things?”
Nate looked in the direction the Texan was staring. The pale specters had reappeared up near the caves high on the north side of the valley. Far more of them than the last time. They were larger, too. Coiling and writhing as before, they slowly oozed down the side of the mountain.
“Looks like fog or mist to me,” Jeremiah Blunt said.
Nate agreed. It was rare to see fog that high up, though. Usually fog clung to the valley floors. He put it from his mind. He had more important concerns. “Let’s go talk to Lexington right this minute.”
“Count me in,” Maklin said.
The Shaker elder was at the hub of a score of Shakers. They were arguing heatedly. Lexington acted relieved when Blunt called to him.
“Did you hear them? My own people, saying I’ve been wrong and we should pack our wagons and leave Second Eden.”
Nate said, “You can’t stay, not after this.”
Arthur Lexington sniffed. “It’s a setback, is all. We will rebuild, make our buildings stronger. The brothers and sisters we have lost will be mourned and we will get on with our lives.”
“Damn you,” Maklin said.
“Here, now. I won’t be addressed like that, Brother.”
His hand a blur, the Texan seized Lexington by the front of his shirt. Nate went to intervene, but Jeremiah Blunt put a hand on his arm and shook his head.
“I’m no brother of yours and never want to be. How many of your followers died? Twelve? Fifteen? And you’re so pigheaded, you won’t take the rest out before the same happens to them.”
Lexington smiled his benign smile. “Earthquakes are rare, Brother Maklin. You know that as well as I do. There might not be another for a thousand years.”
“Or it could happen again tomorrow.”
“Please, Brother.” Lexington pried at the Texan’s fingers. “I appreciate your concern. I truly do. But this display is unseemly. You must learn to trust in the Lord as I do.”
Nate gazed toward the buildings. Torches had been lit and lanterns brought and the dead were being laid out in rows with blankets placed over them.
Cursing lustily, Maklin shook Lexington and drew back a fist as if to punch him.
“I would rather you didn’t,” Jeremiah Blunt said.
Reluctantly, Maklin lowered his hand—to one of his silver-inlaid pistols. “I should shoot him. It would be best for everyone.”
“You wouldn’t!” Arthur Lexington bleated.
“He won’t,” Blunt said.
Maklin gave Lexington a push that sent him stumbling against Nate, who caught him to keep him from falling. “Stay away from me, mister. I’m leaving with the captain and until then, come anywhere near me and I’ll blow out your wick. So help me God.” He turned and stalked off.
“My word,” Lexington said. “What has gotten into the man? I can understand a fit of pique, but honestly now. He can’t blame me for an act of nature.”
Nate went after the Texan. He found him standing much too close to a hot spring. “Are you all right?”
“I haven’t been all right since Na-lin died. I may never be all right again.” Maklin tiredly rubbed his eyes and then pointed at the mountain to the north. “Have you noticed? It’s a lot thicker now.”
The fog or mist or whatever it was had spread. Many of the writhing tendrils had merged, coalescing into a large bank that was slowly creeping lower. For some reason it made Nate’s skin crawl.
“In an hour or so it will reach here,” Maklin observed.
“By then we’ll be gone.” Unnoticed, Jeremiah Blunt had come up behind them. Big hands on his hips, he stared somberly back at the laying out of the deceased. “There’s no talking sense into that man. I thought maybe I could, being a Christian. I quoted Scripture. I reminded him we are our brother’s keeper. I mentioned that God sends His rain on the just and the unjust. It did no good. He refuses to leave his Second Eden.”
Maklin cussed and gestured at the boiling pool. “I should toss him in. No one will know. With him and Sister Amelia gone, the rest should be easy to convince.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
Nate was watching the spectral bank. It enveloped everything in its path. He wondered why it was so pale.
“King? Did you hear me?”
Nate faced the captain. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”
“I’ll be ready to leave within the hour. Are you coming with us? Or do you plan to stick around?”
Before Nate could answer, another tremor shook the Valley of Skulls. It wasn’t as severe as the last, only a mild shaking that nonetheless set Nate’s pulse to racing.
“Well, that does it,” Jeremiah Blunt said, and made for the buildings. “Mr. Maklin, you’re with me.”
Nate listened to the bubbling of the hot spring. The rotten-egg smell was stronger. He held his hand over the lower half of his face as he trailed after them. A blanket was being draped over the body of Sister Amelia. Other Shakers were clustered in small groups and appeared to be arguing. The freighters were over by the corral, waiting for their boss.
Nate was suddenly homesick. He was filled with a great yearning to be with Winona, Evelyn, and Zach. If he slipped away now, under the cover of night, he could elude the Pawnees and be in King Valley in eight to ten days. His mind made up, he bent his steps toward the bay.
“Brother King! A word with you if you please.”