Complication

Chapter Thirteen

The map on Michael’s chin proved worthy of leading them on the correct course. Within an hour and a half they caught up to Glen and his small team, slowed down with their loaded donkeys. The five of them took a position on a high ridge and looked down on Glen’s entourage. Glen was talking with one of his men, pointing up and down the valley.

“The map indicates that it’s right down there, somewhere in this section of the valley,” said a twin, binoculars to his face. “But they seem to be discussing which way to go.”

Michael pulled the binoculars from him and took a look. “Should we just follow them?” He handed the spy glasses to Debora.

She adjusted the lenses, panned left and right. “I don’t understand why they can’t find it,” she finally said. “I can see it from here.” The binoculars were handed back down the line to the twin on the far end. “Look at the canyon wall to the immediate left of the lead donkey. See how the weeds are growing in a pattern from the cracks?”

“It’s like a grid. It looks like a wall was built up with blocks. Excellent eye,” he said. “I guess sometimes the best way to see something is to step back from it. We probably would have walked right by it too.”

They waited until Glen and his crew moved on and then they scaled down the valley wall to the bottom.

“Do you have another one of those bombs?” Michael asked as they stood in front of the wall facade.

“Just had the one, but it would be too loud anyway.”

Michael pushed at the wall with both hands. “I’m not sure if it is going to budge.”

Charlie began to pull away the weeds from between the cracks. They came out complete with clumps of dirt.

“Look at that,” a twin said, “he is already being useful.”

The others joined him, pulling the vegetation out wherever they could get a hold of it. When they were done, they pushed against the blocks, all their weight leaning forward, their feet digging into the ground.

“I think it’s giving,” someone grunted. The wall toppled in and they all took a flinching step back as it fell away. It broke into squares that tumbled down a sloping tunnel, finally ending with a rumbling splash.

The interior walls of the tunnel were smooth. This was no cave. This had been cut out, sanded and polished into a precise sloping corridor. The floor was slick with years of trickling water.

“Echo!” Charlie shouted. He stood close to the opening, then inched forward and leaned in even more. He smiled as his voice came back to him. Debora grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back. One of the twins was already hammering a spike into the ground. He pulled a spool of cable from his pack, attached one end to the spike and sat down with the spool on his lap.

“Let me get a little way,” he said, “then the next person can come down; space yourselves out.” He set a pile of light sticks beside himself for the others, clipped one of them to the strap of his bag and began to slide down. They watched as the glow of his light moved slowly into the darkness. They heard the echo of his feet on the rock. One by one they lowered themselves down in the same fashion, working hard to keep a grip on the thin cable.

The corridor led to a large open chamber and they had no choice but to drop into a moat that encircled the room. The water was cold and slimy and they climbed out of the other side shivering painfully. Droplets of water on their lights cast blotchy shadows around the expanse of the room, making it eerier than it might have been.

In the center of the chamber was a deep shaft covered by a cage. From the shaft came the noise of machinery, clicking and clacking, the laboring of gears. A look inside showed a mangle of cogs and wheels and a criss-cross of moving chain. It was rather loud, but relatively quiet for its size, especially considering it was in an echoing room of stone.