p&c.thunderhead-第34部分

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　Black　turned　to　look　at　him；　speechless　with　rage。　Then　he　stood　up　on　trembling　limbs　and　made　his　way　silently　toward　his　tent。　
　Nora　watched　him　walk　away。　What　was　happening　here？　What　seemed　so　simple　on　paper…the　Anasazi　road；　the　descriptions　in　her　father's　letter…had　grown　hopelessly　plicated　on　the　ground。　It　would　only　get　worse：　tomorrow　afternoon；　if　her　navigation　was　correct；　they　would　hit　the　Devil's　Backbone；　the　massive　hogback　ridge　that　separated　their　canyon　system　from　the　even　more　remote　and　isolated　system　in　which　Quivira　was　hidden。　On　the　map；　it　looked　impassable。　Yet　her　father　had　ridden　over　it。　He　must　have。　Why　didn't　he　leave　any　signs　behind？　But　as　she　asked　the　question；　she　realized　the　answer：　he　wanted　to　keep　the　location　of　Quivira　a　secret　known　only　to　himself。　For　the　first　time；　she　understood　the　vagueness　in　his　letter　had　been　deliberate。　
　The　group　began　to　break　up；　leaving　Smithback　restlessly　dozing　and　Aragon　gazing　thoughtfully　into　the　fire。　Nora　felt　movement　nearby；　then　Sloane　sat　down　beside　her。　
　〃This　campsite　isn't　all　bad；〃　she　said。　〃Look　what　I　just　uncovered。〃　
　Nora　glanced　down　in　the　direction　Sloane　indicated。　There；　lying　half…buried　in　sand；　was　a　perfect　arrowhead；　pressure…flaked　out　of　a　snow…white　agate　flecked　with　pinpoints　of　red。　
　Nora　picked　it　up　with　great　care；　examining　it　closely　in　the　light　of　the　fire。　〃Amazing；　isn't　it；　how　much　they　loved　beauty？　They　always　chose　the　loveliest　materials　for　their　stone　tools。　That's　Lobo　Mesa　agate；　from　an　outcrop　in　New　Mexico　about　three　hundred　miles　southeast　of　here。　Think　of　how　far　they　were　willing　to　trade　to　get　the　really　nice　stuff。〃　
　She　handed　it　to　Sloane；　who　was　looking　at　her　curiously。　〃That's　quite　a　nice　piece　of　identification；〃　she　said　with　real　admiration。　She　took　the　point　and　carefully　laid　it　back　in　the　dust。　〃Maybe　it　should　lie　here；　after　all。〃　
　Aragon　smiled。　〃It　is　always　more　fulfilling；〃　he　said；　〃to　leave　something　in　its　natural　place　than　to　lock　it　in　a　museum　basement。〃　All　three　fell　silent；　staring　into　the　dying　flames。　
　〃I'm　glad　you　spoke　up　like　that；〃　Nora　said　at　last　to　Aragon。　
　〃Perhaps　I　should　have　done　it　long　before。〃　There　was　a　pause。　〃What　do　you　plan　to　do　about　him？〃　
　〃Black？〃　Nora　thought。　〃Nothing；　for　the　moment。〃　
　Aragon　nodded。　〃I've　known　him　for　a　long　while；　and　he's　always　been　full　of　himself。　With　good　reason…there's　no　better　geochronologist　in　the　country。　But　this　is　a　side　I　hadn't　seen　before。　I　think　it's　fear。　Some　people　fall　apart　psychologically　when　removed　from　civilization；　from　telephones；　hospitals；　cars；　electric　power。〃　
　〃I　was　thinking　the　same　thing；〃　Nora　said。　〃If　that's　the　case；　once　we've　made　camp　and　set　up　munications　with　the　outside　world；　he'll　calm　down。〃　
　〃I　think　so。　But　then　again；　he　might　not。〃　
　There　was　another　silence。　
　〃So？〃　Sloane　prompted　at　last。　
　〃So　what？〃　
　〃Are　we　lost？〃　she　asked　gently。　
　Nora　sighed。　〃I　don't　know。　Guess　we'll　find　out　tomorrow。〃　
　Aragon　grunted。　〃If　this　is　indeed　an　Anasazi　road；　it's　unlike　any　other　I've　encountered。　It's　as　if　the　Anasazi　wanted　to　eradicate　any　trace　of　its　existence。〃　He　shook　his　head。　〃I　sense　a　darkness；　a　malignancy；　about　this　road。〃　
　Nora　looked　at　him。　〃Why　do　you　say　that？〃　
　Silently；　the　Mexican　reached　into　the　pack　and　removed　the　test　tube　containing　the　flakes　of　black　paint；　cradling　it　in　his　palm。　〃I　performed　a　PBT　with　luminol　on　one　of　these　samples；〃　he　said　quietly。　〃It　came　up　positive。〃　
　〃I've　never　heard　of　that　test；〃　Nora　said。　
　〃It's　a　simple　test　used　by　forensic　anthropologists。　And　police。　It　identifies　the　presence　of　human　blood。〃　He　gazed　at　her；　his　dark　eyes　in　shadow。　〃That　wasn't　paint　you　saw。　It　was　human　blood。　But　not　just　blood：　layers　upon　layers　upon　layers　of　crusted；　dried　blood。〃　
　〃My　God；〃　Nora　said。　The　passage　from　the　Coronado　report　came　back　to　her　unbidden：　〃Quivira　in　their　language　means　'The　House　of　the　Bloody　Cliff。'〃　Perhaps　〃bloody　cliff〃　was　not　merely　symbolic；　after　all　。　。　。　
　Aragon　removed　a　small　padded　bag　and　carefully　pulled　out　the　small　skull　they　had　discovered　at　Pete's　Ruin。　He　handed　it　to　Nora。　〃After　I　discovered　that；　I　decided　to　take　a　closer　look　at　the　skull　you　found。　I　reassembled　the　pieces　in　my　tent　last　night。　It　belongs　to　a　young　girl；　maybe　nine　or　ten　years　old。　Definitely　Anasazi：　you　can　see　how　the　back　of　the　skull　was　flattened　by　a　hard　cradleboard　when　the　child　was　a　baby。〃　He　turned　it　over　carefully　in　his　hands。　〃At　first；　I　thought　she　had　died　an　accidental　death；　perhaps　hit　by　a　falling　stone。　But　when　I　looked　more　closely；　I　noticed　these。〃　He　pointed　to　a　series　of　grooves　on　the　back　of　the　skull；　near　the　center。　〃These　were　made　with　a　flint　knife。〃　
　〃No；〃　Sloane　whispered。　
　〃Oh；　yes。　This　little　girl　was　scalped。〃　
　
　
20
　
　SKIP　KELLY　SAUNTERED　DOWN　A　SHADED　WALKWAY　of　the　Institute's　manicured　campus；　rubbing　bleary　eyes。　It　was　a　breathtaking　summer　morning；　warm　and　dry　and　full　of　promise。　The　sun　threw　a　silken　illumination　over　building　and　lawn；　and　a　warbler　was　sitting　in　a　lilac　bush；　pouring　out　its　heart　in　rapturous　song。　
　〃Shut　the　hell　up；〃　Skip　growled。　The　bird　plied。　
　Ahead　of　him　lay　a　long；　low　Pueblo　Revival　structure；　clothed　in　the　same　subdued　earth　tones　as　the　rest　of　the　Institute's　campus。　A　small　wooden　sign　was　set　into　the　ground　before　it；　ARTIFACTUAL　ASSEMBLAGES　spelled　out　in　sans　serif　bronze　letters。　Skip　opened　the　door　and　walked　inside。　
　The　door　closed　behind　him　with　a　squeal　of　metal；　and　he　winced。　Christ；　what　a　headache。　His　mouth　was　parched　and　tasted　of　mildew　and　old　socks；　and　he　dug　a　piece　of　chewing　gum　out　of　his　pocket。　Oh；　man。　Better　switch　to　beer。　It　was　the　same　thing　he　thought　every　morning。　
　He　looked　around；　grateful　for　the　dim　illumination。　He　was　in　a　small　antechamber；　bare　of　furnishings　save　for　two　display　cases　and　an　unfortable…looking　wooden　bench。　Doors　led　off　in　all　directions；　most　of　them　unmarked。　
　Another　squeal　of　metal　on　frame；　and　one　of　the　far　doors　opened。　A　woman　stepped　out　and　approached　him。　Skip　looked　at　her　without　interest。　Mid…thirties；　tall；　short　dark　hair；　round　oversized　glasses；　and　a　corduroy　skirt。　
　The　woman　extended　her　hand。　〃You　must　be　Skip　Kelly。　I'm　Sonya　Rowling；　senior　lab　technician。〃　
　〃Nice　outfit；〃　he　replied；　shaking　the　proffered　hand。　Dressed　up　for　the　Brady　Bunch　reunion；　he　thought。　Nora；　I'll　get　you　for　this。　
　If　the　woman　heard　the　pliment；　she　gave　no　sign。　〃We　expected　you　an　hour　ago。〃　
　〃Sorry　about　that；〃　Skip　mumbled　in　reply。　〃Overslept。〃　
　〃Follow　me。〃　The　woman　turned　on　her　heel　and　walked　back　through　the　doorway。　Skip　followed　her　down　a　passage　and　around　a　corner　into　a　large　room。　Unlike　the　antechamber；　the　space　was　filled　with　equipment：　long　metal　tables；　covered　with　tools；　plastic　trays；　and　printouts；　desks　piled　high　with　books　and　three…ring　binders。　The　walls　were　hidden　by　row　upon　row　of　metal　drawers；　all　closed。　In　the　corner　nearest　the　door；　a　young　man　was　standing　in　front　of　a　keyboard；　talking　animatedly　on　the　phone。　
　〃As　you　can　see；　this　is　where　the　real　work　gets　done；〃　the　woman　said。　She　waved　at　a　relatively　empty　desk。　〃Have　a　seat　and　we'll　get　you　started。〃　
　Gingerly；　Skip　eased　himself　down　beside　Sonya　Rowling。　〃God；　am　I　hung；〃　he　muttered。　
　Rowling　turned　her　owlish　eyes　toward　his。　〃I　beg　your　pardon？〃　
　〃Hung。　Hung　over；　I　mean；〃　Skip　added　hastily。　
　〃I　see。　Perhaps　that　explains　your　lateness。　I'm　sure　it　won't　happen　again。〃　Something　in　Rowling's　gaze　made　Skip　sit　up　a　little　straighter。　
　〃Your　sister　says　you　have　a　natural　talent　for　labwork。　That's　what　I　intend　to　find　out　in　the　next　couple　of　weeks。　We'll　start　you　off　slowly；　see　what　you　can　do。　Have　you　had　much　field　experience？〃　
　〃Nothing　formal。〃　
　〃Good。　Then　you　won't　have　any　bad　habits　to　unlearn。〃　When　Skip　raised　his　eyebrows；　she　explained。　〃The　public　thinks　fieldwork　is　the　be…all　and　end…all　of　archaeology。　But　the　truth　is　for　every　hour　spent　at