The Blood Mesa dm-5 Page 4

  Ronnie waved her hand to indicate the ruins around them.

  Matt shook his head as he slipped his hands in the hip pockets of his jeans. "No offense, but I don't know if I completely buy that explanation," he said. "For this many people to have died so violently, it seems more like a bunch of them went crazy. Like an orgy of killing. It wouldn't have gone on and on like a gradual thing."

  "Mass hysteria?" Ronnie asked with a frown. "That's more likely to manifest itself in group suicides, like in Jonestown or that comet cult in California. Not in mass murder. Anyway, if you don't mind my saying so, Matt . . . it sounds almost like you're speaking from personal experience."

  He shook his head. "I just know what I've read in the papers and seen on TV," he lied. He had seen how evil could spread like wildfire through a group of people, though he wasn't sure he had encountered it yet on this scale.

  "Well, we'll keep digging," Ronnie said. "Maybe we'll turn up some positive evidence of what happened."

  He noticed that she was standing a little farther away from him than she had been a few minutes earlier. Great, he thought. Now she thinks I'm a psycho killer. He supposed he had sounded a little crazy.

  But she didn't know the things he knew, couldn't see the things he could see. If she could, she would be a lot more worried.

  # # # # # #

  The work continued at all three digs the next day. Hammond and his group hadn't found anything worth noting, but Dr. Varley's team had dug down far enough to reveal that the four "rocks" at the corners of the rectangle were actually the tops of four pillars. Matt paced around the excavation worriedly.

  Varley wasn't doing any of the actual digging himself, due to his advanced age. Scott and Chuck did most of that while April and Sierra sifted through the dirt for artifacts.

  "What does this look like to you, Doctor?" Matt asked Varley.

  "Those pillars are supports for a roof," Varley said, pointing to them. "The irregularities on the tops indicate that they were broken off at some time, so it's safe to assume that originally they were taller. Not all kivas were underground, you know, nor were they all circular. Many of them were square or rectangular and built partially or completely aboveground. I believe what we have here are the ruins of a large, partially sunken kiva with stone walls and a roof."

  "You haven't found any bones here, have you?"

  Varley smiled and shook his head. "No, no bones. Those seem to be confined to Dr. Dupre's excavation."

  If that was the case, Matt wondered why this place bothered him even more than the one that contained evidence of murder and cannibalism.

  Late that afternoon, Scott and Chuck uncovered something else. Matt was hunkered on his heels near the edge of the excavation as the two young men leaned over and brushed dirt away from what took shape as a large, smooth, flat stone surface. This wasn't sandstone. It gleamed black, like obsidian.

  "Dr. Varley, look at this!" Scott called.

  Varley, April, and Sierra came up to the rim of the pit and gazed down into it, along with Matt.

  "What is it?" April asked.

  "Keep digging," Varley ordered. "We need to determine the object's dimensions."

  Shovels bit into the dirt. Scott and Chuck scraped it away until the stone had been revealed down to a depth of several inches. Its edges were square cut. It was about three feet wide and maybe seven feet long.

  "It's an altar," Varley said in a hushed voice.

  "Like for religious ceremonies?" Scott asked.

  "Or maybe for human sacrifices, like in the movies," Chuck said in his West Texas drawl.

  Sierra took him seriously and said, "I didn't know the Anasazi sacrificed people."

  "We didn't know they practiced cannibalism until now, either," a new voice said. Matt glanced up and saw Andrew Hammond standing near the excavation, a smile on his disfigured face. "This is exciting, Howard, very exciting."

  Varley nodded. "Yes, it is."

  Scott was feeling around at one end of the altar. He said, "Dr. Varley, something's carved into the stone down here. I can't tell what it is."

  "Uncover it," Varley ordered as he leaned over and rested his hands on his knees so he could peer more closely into the pit. "Dig the dirt away from it before we lose our light."

  Scott and Chuck wielded their shovels with even greater enthusiasm. Matt felt coldness growing inside him as they uncovered more and more of the altar at one end.

  "What is that?" Varley muttered. "The stone is so dark it's difficult to see the markings."

  He straightened and started for the ladder. Matt stood up, too, suddenly even more anxious than he had been.

  Varley motioned to April and Sierra. "Girls, come with me. You've been part of this, too. You deserve to see what we've found."

  Matt felt something wild growing inside him. He started to reach for the elderly professor's arm, not knowing what he would say but feeling a growing need to stop this.

  Hammond got in his way. The man's rotting lips drew back from his teeth in an animal-like snarl as he said, "Leave them alone, Cahill."

  Suddenly Matt wished he had gotten his ax out of his duffel bag and split Hammond's head open that first day, like he had thought about doing. He might have been hauled off and arrested for murder, but that would be better than what was about to happen here.

  "Get the hell out of my way," he said.

  Hammond laughed. "You're too late," he told Matt. "Too late."

  It was true. Time was screwy somehow. Varley, April, and Sierra had climbed down into the excavation and were crowded around the altar with Scott and Chuck. Matt stepped around Hammond so he had a good view as Scott knelt and brushed the last of the dirt away from the lines carved into the stone.

  In the garish red light of late afternoon, the lines formed an unmistakable image, one that Matt had seen all too many times in the past few months.

  It was the face of Mr. Dark, and just above it was another striking, sinister image, a snake eating its own tail.

  And as Dr. Howard Varley murmured, "Fascinating," a huge blister formed on his cheek, burst, and oozed bilious green pus that trickled down and dripped off his jaw.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Get out of there!" Matt yelled. "Get out while you—"

  But it was already too late. The four grad students reeled back from the altar, and as they did, sores appeared on their faces as well.

  Something slammed down on the back of Matt's neck, driving his face against the ground. Blood spurted from his nose. He twisted to look over his shoulder and saw Hammond looming above him. The professor's hands were clubbed together and lifted to deliver another blow.

  Matt shot an elbow back into Hammond's belly. The impact knocked Hammond to the side and gave Matt the chance to roll away from him. As he did so, he lifted a booted foot and caught Hammond under the chin with a kick that sent the man sprawling.

  Matt scrambled to his hands and knees. He saw Varley climbing out of the pit. The elderly professor's face was covered with sores now, the red marks standing out in stark contrast to his snow-white hair.

  "Doctor, get away from that thing!" Matt yelled as he came to his feet.

  Varley roared, "Shut your motherfucking mouth!" He stepped off the ladder onto the ground at the edge of the pit and pointed at Matt. "Get him!"

  Scott was right behind Varley on the ladder. With almost superhuman agility, he leapt out of the excavation. He had brought his shovel with him, and he gripped the handle and swung the blade at Matt's head with blinding speed.

  Matt ducked under the swinging shovel and stepped in to slam a punch into Scott's midsection. The blow sent Scott staggering back a couple of steps, but he caught his balance quickly.

  Chuck was out of the pit by now, also armed with the shovel he had used to help unearth the altar. He raised it high above his head, unleashed what sounded like a rebel yell from his throat, and brought the shovel down. Matt leapt aside from it. The shovel clanged loudly on the ground.

  April
reached the top of the ladder. Her wholesome beauty was gone now. Sores had erupted all over her face. Green corruption dripped from them, and strips of rotting flesh peeled off her nose and chin. She screeched curses as she ran at Matt with her hands extended in front of her, the fingers hooked like claws.

  He grabbed her arms and flung her against Chuck. The two of them got tangled up together. Matt needed that respite because Scott was coming at him again. He caught the shovel before the blade could bash his brains out. His foot snapped out in a kick that caught Scott in the left knee and made the young man's leg buckle. Matt shoved him to the ground.

  The yelling had gotten the attention of the others on top of the mesa. From the corner of his eye, Matt spotted several of them running toward him to find out what was wrong.

  He waved his arms at them and yelled, "Get back, get back!" He didn't know how far-reaching the effect given off by the altar might be. Even though it hadn't changed him as it had the others, he could feel it, radiating from the carved face of Mr. Dark like ripples in a pond.

  This was what had happened to the people who lived in this pueblo almost a thousand years earlier, he thought. Madness had spread from the altar and washed over the mesa, leading to a frenzy of slaughter and depravity.

  Blood Mesa was a good name for the place, all right. It had been drenched in blood in those long-ago days . . . and soon might be again.

  "Get in the truck and the pickups!" Matt shouted at the others. He didn't know if the vehicles would provide any safety, but they would be more secure than the tents. Maybe if he could get the rest of the group to flee, he could stay behind and deal with the ones who'd been changed by Mr. Dark.

  That meant he'd probably have to kill all of them.

  Or be killed by them. While some mystical force seemed to protect him from the touch of Mr. Dark, he could be harmed by those who had been prodded into evil by the creature.

  Brad Kern and Noel McAlister were the closest of the grad students from the other groups. They had run ahead of Maggie and Rich. Suddenly both young men stumbled and clapped their hands to their heads as if they had been struck by migraines at the same instant.

  Brad fell to his knees and clawed at his face. Chunks of flesh came away, shredded by his fingernails. Noel managed to stay on his feet, but sores were appearing on his face, too. Matt watched in horror, wondering if waves of evil had reached out from the altar and touched them, too. Was there any way to stop this, to reverse what was happening, to save these people?

  Hell, was there any way for him to save himself?

  Noel's unsteady gait strengthened. He lowered his hands, laughed, and charged at Matt. Behind him, Brad surged to his feet and joined in the attack.

  Like a football lineman, Matt went low and threw himself at their knees. They crashed into him and tumbled out of control over him. Matt slapped his hands against the ground and pushed himself into a roll that carried him past the two fallen grad students.

  Maggie and Rich had stopped and were staring at Brad and Noel, clearly confused about why they had attacked Matt. Matt hurried to his feet, grabbed their arms, and urged them toward the truck.

  "Go! Go!"

  Behind him, terrified screams filled the night. Matt and the students swung around and saw that Astrid had stumbled into the path of Hammond, Varley, Scott, Chuck, April, and Sierra as they gave chase. Varley had hold of her and clawed at her face as she screeched.

  "Kill her!" Varley cried. "Kill the fucking cunt!"

  Scott and Chuck shoved him aside and started flailing at Astrid with their shovels. Her screams were cut off short as the two young men battered her to the ground.

  The horrific scene had distracted Brad and Noel. They ran to join in as everyone who had been affected by the altar swarmed around Astrid and began tearing her to pieces.

  After seeing that, Maggie and Rich didn't need any more urging to make a run for it. They dashed toward the truck.

  Matt ran behind them, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. He realized it wouldn't do any good to seek shelter in the pickups. Scott and Chuck could just shatter the windshields and windows with those shovels.

  The truck might be a different story. It was taller, the windshield and windows not as easy to reach, and he had the keys to it in his pocket. If he could get in the truck and get it started, he might be able to use it as a weapon.

  Ronnie and the students who had been with her ran up to Maggie and Rich. Matt was close behind them.

  "Hide in the ruins!" he told them. "Grab some shovels or something to use as weapons! Go!"

  Ronnie clutched his sleeve as the others scattered. "Matt, what . . . what's happened?"

  "They killed Astrid!" Maggie said with a hysterical sob. "They tore her to pieces, Dr. Dupre! They're crazy!"

  "You need to get out of here, Ronnie!" Matt said. "And don't go anywhere near Dr. Varley's excavation!"

  The pursuit should have caught up to them by now. Matt looked over his shoulder and felt cold horror go through him. Hammond and the others hadn't resumed the chase. They were gathered around Varley, who was carrying Astrid's head, which had been hacked raggedly from her neck with the blade of a shovel.

  "My God," Ronnie said in a voice hushed with awe and fear. "They're . . . they're insane."

  She couldn't see the evil taking physical form on their faces the way Matt could, but she could see the results of it still dripping blood as the head swung back and forth in Varley's hand as he held it above his head and the others circled around him in some sort of macabre dance.

  Matt took hold of her arm and began to back toward the truck. "Remember the bones in the kiva," he told her. "The people who lived here went mad and turned on each other. That's what's going on."

  "I don't believe it!"

  "You can see it for yourself, damn it! Look what they did to Astrid!"

  "Something must have caused this. We have to help them—"

  "We can't," Matt said. "All we can do is try to keep them from killing us."

  Ronnie shook her head stubbornly as she backed away beside him. "That's not possible. It's some sort of disease. We need to get them to a hospital—"

  Matt wouldn't have expected any other reaction from a rational, highly educated person. To people like Ronnie, there was always a scientific explanation for every problem, and there was always a way to fix it, too.

  Matt knew better. "Rational" had nothing to do with it. He was looking at pure chaos in human form, and so he wasn't surprised when the circle suddenly broke apart and Chuck screamed and charged at him, waving his blood-smeared shovel.

  "I'm gonna bash y'all's fuckin' heads in!" he yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

  The others followed his lead, dashing toward Matt and Ronnie as they screeched obscenities.

  "Run!"

  Matt sprinted toward the truck, keeping his hand clamped on Ronnie's arm so he dragged her along with him. Terror soon had her running just as fast as he was. What she was seeing might baffle and offend the scientist part of her, but the human part was smart enough to be scared shitless.

  Jerry, Rich, Ginger, Maggie, and Stephanie had disappeared into the ruins of the ancient pueblo. Matt didn't see any of them, and he was glad of that. Night was coming on, and they might be able to hide.

  On the other hand, the darkness would make it more difficult to see the things that were stalking them.

  And that was the way Matt thought of them—as things. The people they had been were gone. He wondered if Andrew Hammond had been human at all, the whole time they had been up here.

  Their feet pounding on the hard-packed ground, Matt and Ronnie reached the truck. Matt yanked the driver's side door open and boosted Ronnie into the cab with one hand while digging in his jeans pocket for the keys with the other. As Ronnie slid across the seat, Matt vaulted into the cab after her. He pulled the door shut just in time for it to stop the shovel blade that Chuck swung at him. Metal clanged against metal. Matt used his left elbow to push down the lock b
utton while he jammed the key into the ignition with his right hand.

  "Lock your door!" he yelled.

  "Got it!" Ronnie said. She flinched away from the window as Sierra climbed onto that side of the cab and started slapping at the glass while yelling frenziedly.

  Chuck was trying to pull himself high enough on the side of the cab to get a good swing at the window with the shovel. Matt twisted the key and tromped the gas, hoping he wouldn't flood the engine. It caught with a rumbling growl as Hammond, Varley, Scott, and April threw themselves in front of the truck.

  Matt slammed the truck into gear and sent it lurching forward. Ronnie screamed as the people caught in the vehicle's path scrambled to get out of the way. Hammond, Scott, and April made it, but Varley just wasn't fast enough.

  The old man threw up his arms and shrieked as the truck ran him down. Matt felt the bump as the heavy wheels passed over Varley's body. Nothing could survive that.

  "My God, my God!" Ronnie cried. "You killed him!"

  "You saw what they did to Astrid," Matt said. "I wish I'd gotten a couple of the others, too."

  "You're crazy! You're as crazy as they are!"

  He kept his left hand on the wheel as the truck bumped around several partially collapsed walls. With his right hand, he grabbed her shoulder and shook it.

  "Look at me!" he told her. "Look at me, damn it! You saw their eyes. You saw their faces. Look at mine!"

  He turned his head to look over at her. Ronnie stared at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes for a moment, then drew in a deep, shuddery breath.

  "All right, maybe you're not quite as crazy," she said. "But did you have to kill Dr. Varley?"

  "Yes," Matt said. "I'm sorry. I know they're your friends, Ronnie. But there's no way we can help them. All we can do is try to save ourselves and the others who haven't gone mad."

  "We can get the others and drive away! As long as we're in the truck and moving, Dr. Hammond and the others can't stop us."

  Matt nodded as he clutched the wheel and tried to keep the truck under control. "That's what I'm hoping. We need to get off this mesa."