“Right now I think there’s a whole lot I ought to know.”
“I heard Jory tell Neal that he didn’t kill that little boy,” Bekke said. “Now maybe he just said that because Neal had a knife to his throat, but…”
“But what?” Hansen yelled.
“Jory also said something about the boy being the Savior, the Son of God. Said that he took him and hid him in ‘the Place of the Beginning.’”
Carter pushed into the center of the circle and asked, “He used those words? The Place of the Beginning?”
“Yeah, he said he hid him in the Place of the Beginning and the End.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Hansen said. “How do you expect a two-year-old child to survive out in the wilderness on its own?”
“I don’t, sir. That’s just what Jory said.”
Cal said, “I’ll bet that’s where he’s headed and I’ll bet that’s Neal Carey with him.”
Vetter added, “Jory spends a lot of time around those caves up the mountain.”
“We have to find that child!” Carter commanded.
Hansen took over. “Cal, we’ll take some men with us and track Jory up to those caves. Dave, you take a squad and track down that Mackinnon, or whoever the hell he is. You might start by heading toward that Jew’s house. I wouldn’t be surprised if he set this whole thing up. Go on now, get moving!”
Carter pulled Hansen aside.
“This is very exciting, Robert,” he said.
Hansen shook his head. “It’s over here, Reverend. ZOG will be swarming all over this place by tomorrow. Our only chance is to find these people, kill them, and go into hiding ourselves.”
Hansen felt the full bitterness of his own words. His dreams for this valley, this haven, this white bastion were shattered.
“You don’t understand, Robert!” urged Carter. “This may be it! Maybe Jory was inspired to take the child! Maybe he has found the Place of the Beginning and the End, the sacred home of the lost tribe!”
“I don’t understand, Reverend.”
“I don’t think Jory took the boy, I think the boy took Jory. The boy led him to the sacred place. This may be the child. You remember Revelation 12:5: ‘And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up in God, and to his throne.’ But the dragon fought for the man child, Robert. And the man child was hidden while the battle raged. And the dragon was slain by the angels. ZOG is the dragon, we are the angels! The battle is on! It’s here, Robert! It’s here!”
Hansen looked around at the wreckage of his dream.
“What’s here?” he asked.
Carter’s eyes gleamed. “The End Time!”
Shoshoko crawled to the mouth of the cave when he heard the wind come up. Clouds rolled across the moon and suddenly it started to snow as the sky changed from shimmering black to dull gray to shining white.
Shoshoko knew that the snow had been sent to ease his spirit, to soften his walk to the other side. The child would go down from the mountain just as the snow came down from the sky.
He was sad to leave the earth, but all men did. He was sad to leave the boy, but that was their fate. He sat down at the edge of the cave and started to sing his death song.
It was the End Time.
12
Neal held on tightly as Midnight picked his way up the narrow path. Cedar boughs swung back and threw snow across his arms as the horse pushed through. More snow was falling on his head and back, blowing in his face.
He felt the horse stagger up to level ground and then heard what sounded like a chant coming from somewhere up above. It was a sad but oddly tranquil song in the voice of an old angel floating on a cloud.
I wonder if this is what it’s like to die, Neal thought. A slow ride in a tunnel of whiteness with an angel singing you home.
Midnight found his way between two rock walls and they descended down a draw. Then the horse turned sharply right and then left, and suddenly Neal could see.
They were in a box canyon of red rock cliffs with sparse cedars clinging to narrow shelves. The north cliff face blocked the wind and most of the snow. They were isolated from the rest of the mountains and the valley below. They might as well have been in another world.
Now Neal realized that the chanting came from the cliff on the north side. He looked up and saw a small circle of light about fifty feet up on the rocks, and the voice seemed to come from that glowing orb. This is getting really spooky, he thought.
“What am I hearing?” he asked Jory. He pointed to the circle of light that seemed to float on the sheer cliff. “What the hell is that?”
“That’s the angel,” Jory said calmly. “The guardian.”
“Is he guarding Cody?” Neal asked.
“Always.” Jory stopped the horse. “I usually walk from here, but we might need your horse this time. I think we can walk him most of the way up there.”
Neal swung down as Jory hopped off. Jory took the reins and led Midnight as they hiked to the base of the cliff. They jagged west for a few hundred feet and then Neal saw that there was a narrow shelf of rock that led like a ramp up to the light. He got scared as they made their way up the shelf. It seemed like one slip would send him plunging down the sheer rock cliff.
One foot at a time, he told himself. Just think about placing one foot at a time.
Even Midnight seemed edgy, carefully placing his hooves down on the slippery rock. Only Jory didn’t seem concerned. He had his head down and just plodded up the ramp toward the light.
As they got closer Neal saw that the light wasn’t mysterious at all. It came from the mouth of a cave. As they got closer still he recognized the flicker of a small fire.
Jory stopped and listened to the chanting. When he heard a pause he made a sound like a bird.
The singing stopped and a similar birdcall came back.
Jory pressed on until they came to a large fissure that split the rock diagonally. “This is far as we can go with the horse,” he said.
Neal watched as Jory led Midnight about twenty feet into the fissure and tied the reins to a scraggly cedar bow. He came back out and led Neal another thirty yards up the shelf until they came to the cave mouth.
It was a shallow indentation in the rock, maybe four feet high, ten feet wide, and a couple of feet deep.
Neal saw a tiny man sitting perfectly still, backlit by the fire that seemed to be burning from inside the rock. But there was no smoke. The man certainly could be no more than five feet tall, if that, and he looked ancient. He was wrapped in what looked like rabbit skins. His silver hair was long and matted.
Jory pointed behind the old man and then pointed to himself.
The small man shook his head. Then he pointed at Neal.
Then the man got up into a crouch and Neal saw the light burning behind him. The man crawled into the light. Jory followed, and both men suddenly disappeared. Neal got on all fours and crawled into the biggest part of the light.
It was a hole, a small, round tunnel entrance. Neal crawled for about ten feet in total darkness and then he saw the cave.
A fire was burning. Lying beside the small fire, wrapped in wild sheepskin, looking dirty and thin but peacefully asleep, was a small child. His face was turned to the warmth of the fire and his eyes were closed. His thin lips were open slightly and Neal could see them purse as he breathed.
Neal could stand up now-easily, for the chamber was twelve feet high in the center. The air was clear because the smoke from the small, efficient fire was drafting out the back of the cave.
Neal walked to where the child was lying and gently pulled the sheepskin blanket from the boy’s head. He looked at the dirty blond hair and whispered, “Hello, Cody. It’s nice to meet you.”
He pulled the cover back over the boy and looked to Jory for an explanation. Jory just pointed at the cave walls.
Neal looked around him then and suddenly understood.
There was no telling how old the paintings were, but even in the faint, flickering firelight Neal could see that they were beyond ancient. They told stories of a time when men hunted giant animals on foot, and women gathered seeds and roots, and thunder and lightning were the music of God. They spoke of an age when men battled lions, and women hid their children in the safety of the cave, and when God sometimes took the children anyway, took them to the heavens.