And seeing them, Neal understood. Understood how poor, sick Jory, who had been taught what he had been taught and who had seen the horrors he had seen, could come to this prehistoric spot and think he had found the place where the lost tribe of Israel, the Aryan ancestors, had settled in the promised land.
For on those figures where some color survived and faces could be clearly discerned, the color on those faces was immutably, unmistakably, white. Especially on the smallest figure, clearly a child, who was depicted reaching his arms up to the sky toward a large figure that was not quite human but had a head formed by three concentric ovals. The child’s hair was yellow.
“White people,” Jory said. “The sons of Seth, the sons of Jacob. This proves that we were here long before the Indians. The old man here even says so.”
The old man nodded and pointed to the cave paintings. In a combination of his own tongue and sign language he tried to tell Neal his people’s legend about the race of white giants who once walked the earth. They were men of strength and courage, men who had knowledge. And the Sun loved them, so he gave them hair the color of dawn and dusk and eyes the color of the sky. For he meant them to join him in the heavens, and indeed, one day the white giants disappeared. But the legends said they would come again at the end of time, come again to rule the earth, to save it from the new whites, the ones who were everywhere but not quite men. For the new whites had come with their machines and guns and diseases and ruined the earth and most of the people died. The rest ran away and hid in the mountains, found the canyons and the caves, and waited for the white giants to return, waited for the foretold child of the Sun to come back to the sacred place. And the ones who were everywhere but not quite men would try to kill the child, and there would be a terrible battle between the good spirits and the bad, and many would die. But the child of the Sun would live, and the people would be reborn and rise from the earth, which would be clean again. And the child of the Sun would rule and all would be peaceful, as in the days when the white giants strode the earth.
Neal looked at Cody McCall sleeping by the fire and tried to figure out how to get him to safety. He could make a sling from his jacket, perhaps, and tie it in front of him like one of those baby carriers he had seen women wear. It might work.
“The Book of Revelation talks about the same thing, Neal,” Jory said. “It talks about the infant who comes again, and the serpent tries to kill it, and the angels battle the serpent, and…”
“And the child lives and rules the earth with a rod of iron,” Neal interrupted. He’d read Revelation while studying the white supremacist movement.
“And this is the child,” Jory said. “So when they were going to kill him, I knew it was a terrible mistake. So I took him here, to the sacred place, the Place of the Beginning and the End.”
Neal debated what to do. He could wait the storm out in the cave and go in the morning, but that would mean moving in daylight, and who knew where the SOS boys would be. Or he could move now under cover of darkness, but that would mean exposing the child to a dangerous trip at night through a snowstorm.
Just then the old man cocked his head toward the cave mouth. Then he mimed the trotting of horses.
Neal couldn’t hear a thing.
The old man scrambled to the cave mouth and came back moments later. He counted to six on his fingers. Then he stepped over to the fire, wafted his hands through the smoke, and pointed to the ceiling.
Great, Neal thought. They’re coming with guns and this guy’s going to do magic tricks.
The old man reached into the pile of blankets and pulled out a contraption made of sticks, rabbit skin, and strips of hide. He motioned for Neal to turn around and tied it onto his shoulders. Neal realized that it was a backpack for the boy.
The old man picked up Cody and held him to his chest, whispering soft cooing sounds in the boy’s ear. Then he lifted him up and set him into the sack formed by the rabbit skins.
Cody woke up and started to cry.
The old man made shooshing sounds, but Cody kept crying and lifted his arms to the old man. The child was terrified to be on the shoulders of this stranger, and the words he was crying out in his fear were in a language Neal didn’t recognize.
The old man spoke back to him, quietly but firmly, and Cody settled into a miserable whimpering but sat back in his seat. The old man covered him with a sheepskin and tucked it into the seat. Then he picked up his small bow and quiver of arrows and motioned for Neal to follow him.
“I’ll stay here and hold them off,” Jory said.
“Don’t be an idiot, Jory,” Neal answered. “Come on.”
Jory leaned over, pulled the sheepskin aside, and kissed Cody on the cheek. Then he turned his back and crawled into the tunnel toward the cave mouth.
The old man turned around and waved his hand forward impatiently, as if to say, “Come on.” He pointed to his nose and made a show of sniffing the air.
Neal followed the old man deeper into the cave. The old man disappeared into the rocks and Neal found the crack that led into another chamber. It was pitch-black.
Now what? Neal asked himself. I can’t see a damn thing. Ahead of him he could just make out the sound of the old man sniffing the air.
Of course, Neal thought. The smoke must be ventilating out a draft. There was another way out. He reached behind him and put his hands under the backpack to lift it higher on his shoulders. Cody seemed calmer, as if he sensed they were following the old man.
Neal listened to the man’s footsteps and sniffed the air for the scent of smoke.
Ed Levine leaned forward and adjusted Graham’s weight on his shoulders. He was carrying him piggyback now, and Graham had enough strength to hold on with his one good hand.
It was the frigging cold that was the problem. That and the snow that was blowing in their faces and blinding them.
But Ed figured that wasn’t all bad. It was also blinding the guys who were looking for them, and as long as he had his nose pointed into the freezing wind, he knew he was headed north. So the wind was like a sadistic compass, keeping them pointed toward the Mills place. Ed only hoped he could see the house when he got near.
He pointed his face toward the wind until he felt its maximum force, then put his head down and started slogging through the snow.
Strekker skittered back down the shelf of rock.
“The cave’s just up there,” he told Hansen. “There’s only room for one man at a time to get in. They could pick us off one by one.”
“I have to get into that cave!” Carter said.
Hansen ignored him. He was sorry Carter had insisted on coming-the reverend had just slowed them down. He looked to Cal for instructions.
“Billy, watch the horses,” Cal answered. “Mr. Hansen, why don’t you take the reverend and see if you can talk your way in? Craig and John, back him up.”
“Where are you going?” Hansen asked him.
“I’m going to poke around a little more,” Cal answered. Just in case there’s a back way in. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, found a crack in the rock, and began to pull himself up the rocks.
Steve Mills looked out the window at the heavy snow, then pulled on his boots.
“You’re not going out there!” Peggy said. It was more of a question than a statement.
“I just have a couple of things to check,” he answered.
“On the big surprise?” Shelly asked. She and Karen were on the floor by the fireplace, putting in the last few pieces of the chocolate chip cookie puzzle.