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A funny look came over Skip。 〃That's what I wanted to tell you；〃 he said in a low voice。 〃Thurber's missing。〃
Nora felt the air leave her lungs in a sudden rush。 〃Missing？〃 she repeated。
Skip looked down abjectly。
〃What happened？〃
Skip shook his head。 〃Don't know。 It was the second night you were gone。 He was fine the first night； or as fine as he ever gets。 When I came in the second night and called for him； he was gone。 It was weird。 The door was locked； all the windows were shut。 But there was this funny smell in the air； almost like flowers。 There was some dog barking like mad outside； but it didn't sound like Thurber。 I went outside anyway and looked around。 He must have jumped the fence or something。〃 He sighed deeply and looked at his sister。 〃I'm really sorry； Nora。 I looked all over for him； I talked to the neighbors； I called the pound 。 。 。〃
〃You didn't leave a door open？〃 Nora asked。 The raw anger she'd felt the night before； the feeling of violation； was gone； leaving only a strange and terrible fear behind。
〃No； I swear I didn't。 Like I said； everything was locked up。〃
〃Skip； I want you to listen to me；〃 she said in a low voice。 〃When I got home last night； I could tell something wasn't right。 Somebody had been in the apartment。 The place was dirty。 My hairbrush was missing。 There was a strange smell； the same one you noticed。 And then I heard some scratching； and went outside…〃 She stopped。 How could she explain it： the humped； fur…covered figure； the strange lack of footprints； the feeling of utter alienness that had e across her as she stood in the dark； flashlight in hand？ And now Thurber 。 。 。
Skip's skeptical look changed suddenly to concern。 〃Hey； Nora； you've had quite a week；〃 he said。 〃First that thing out at the ranch； then this expedition ing together out of nowhere； and Thurber disappearing。 Why don't you go home and rest up？〃
Nora looked into his eyes。
〃What？〃 he asked。 〃Are you afraid to go home？〃
〃It isn't that；〃 she replied。 〃I had the locksmith out this morning to install a second lock。 It's just that 。 。 。〃 She hesitated。 〃I just have to keep a low profile for the next day or two。 I can take care of myself。 Once I'm out of Santa Fe； there won't be any more problems。 But； Skip； promise me you'll be very careful while I'm gone。 I'll leave Dad's gun in the bedside table drawer in my apartment。 I want you to have it after I leave。 And don't go by the old place； okay？〃
〃You afraid the Creature from the Black Lagoon will get me？〃
Nora rose quickly。 〃That's not funny； and you know it。〃
〃All right； all right。 I never visit that broken…down old shack anyway。 Besides； after what happened； I'll bet Teresa's watching that place like a hawk； finger on the trigger。〃
Nora sighed。 〃Maybe you're right。〃
〃I am right。 You wait and see。 Black Lagoon； zero。 Winchester； one。〃
11
CALAVERAS MESA LAY SLUMBERING UNDER the midnight sky； a shadowy island rising out of an ocean of broken rock…the vast El Malpaís lava flow of central New Mexico。 A screen of clouds had moved over the stars； and the mesa lay still underneath： silent； dark； uninhabited。 The nearest settlement was Quemado； fifty miles away。
Calaveras Mesa had not always been uninhabited。 In the fourteenth century； Anasazi Indians had moved into its south…facing cliffs and hollowed out caves in the soft volcanic tuff。 But the site had proved uncongenial； and the caves had been abandoned for half a millennium。 In this distant part of El Malpaís； there were no roads and no trails； the caves remained undisturbed and unexcavated。
Two dark forms moved among the silent broken rafts and blocks of frozen lava that lapped the sides of the mesa。 They were covered with thick pelts of fur； and their movements had the bined swiftness and caution of a wolf。 Both figures wore heavy silver jewelry： concho belts； squash blossom necklaces； turquoise disks； and old sand…cast bow guards。 Beneath the heavy pelts； naked skin was daubed with thick paint。
They reached the talus slope below the caves and began to ascend； picking their way among boulders and rockfalls。 At the bottom of the cliff itself they rapidly ascended a hand…and…toe trail and disappeared into the dark mouth of a cave。
Inside the cave； they paused。 One figure remained at the mouth while the second moved swiftly to the back of the cave。 He pushed aside a rock； revealing a narrow passage； and wriggled through into a smaller room。 There was a faint scratching sound and the wavering light of a burning splinter revealed that this room was not empty： it was a small Anasazi burial chamber。 In niches carved in the far wall lay three mummified corpses； a few pathetic broken pots left beside them as offerings。 The figure placed a ball of wax with a bit of straw stuck into it on a high ledge； lighting it with an uncertain glow。
Then he moved to the central corpse： a gray； delicate form wrapped in a rotting buffalo hide。 Its mummified lips had drawn back from its teeth and its mouth was open in a monstrous grimace of hilarity。 The legs of the corpse were drawn up to the chest and the knees had been wrapped with woven cords； its eyes were two holes； webbed with shreds of tissue； its hands were balled up into shriveled fists； the fingernails hanging and broken； gnawed by rats。
The figure reached in and cradled the mummy with infinite gentleness； removed it from the niche； and laid it down in the thick layer of dust on the cave floor。 Reaching into the pelt； he removed a small woven basket and a medicine bundle。 Tugging open the bundle； he extracted something and held it up to the uncertain light： a pair of delicate bronze hairs。
The figure turned back to the mummy。 Slowly； he placed the hairs in the mouth of the mummy； pushing them deep into the mummy's throat。 There was a dry crackling noise。 Then the figure leaned back； the candle snuffed out； and absolute darkness fell once again。 There was a low sound； a mutter； then a name； intoned again and again in a slow； even voice： 〃Kelly 。 。 。 Kelly 。 。 。 Kelly 。 。 。〃
A long time passed。 There was another scratch of a match； and the wax was relit。 The figure reached into the basket； then bent over the corpse。 A razor…sharp obsidian knife gleamed in the faint light。 There was a faint； rhythmic scraping noise： the sound of stone cutting through crisp； dry flesh。 The figure soon straightened up； holding a small round disk of scalp； dotted with the whorl of hair from the back of the mummy's head。 The figure placed it reverently in the basket。
The figure bent once more。 There was now a louder； digging noise。 After a few minutes； there was a sharp rap。 The figure held up a disk of skullbone； examined it； then placed it in the basket beside the scalp。 Next； he moved the knife down the mummy until it reached the clenched； withered fists。 He gently pulled aside the rotted tatters of buffalo hide from the hands； caressing them in his own。 Then he worked the knife between the fingers； methodically prying them loose and breaking them off one at a time。 Cupping each finger； he cut off the whorl of fingerprint and placed the desiccated chips of flesh into the basket。 Then the figure moved down to the toes； breaking them off the body like breadsticks and quickly carving off the toe prints。 Small showers of dust rained onto the cave floor。
The little basket filled with pieces of the corpse as the makeshift candle guttered。 The figure quickly rewrapped the mummy and lifted it back into its niche in the wall as the light winked out。 Picking up the basket； he left the chamber and rolled the rock back into place。 Gingerly； he pulled a buckskin bag from the pelt； unwound the tight knot of leather that sealed it shut； and teased the bag open。 Holding it away from himself； he carefully sprinkled a thin trail of some powdery substance along the base of the rock。 Then he carefully sealed up the bag and rejoined his panion at the cave entrance。 Swiftly and silently； they descended the cliff face and were once again swallowed up in the darkness of the great lava flow of El Malpaís。
12
THE HEADLIGHTS OF NORA'S TRUCK SWUNG across the predawn dark； scissoring through clouds of dust