The Four Corners Cycle
Book Four  - Yekaterina's Kiss
Chapter Three
Spookey247 

Feedback- Cherished and answered: Spookey247@msn.com

Summary - Truths lurk in a dark place. Our friends descend and delve.

Summary - Truths lurk in a dark place. Our friends descend and delve. Notes and Acknowledgments at the beginning of 1/9

More notes and thank-yous at the end of 9/9.

Just after dawn, the next morning Desert View, Arizona 

James steers around a sharp bend and slows down. Some kids are sitting on the concrete steps of a box- like house by the side of the road. They stare at the Blazer as it bumps down the decaying asphalt road. James lifts his fingers off the steering wheel in a half-hearted wave. One of the kids raises a hand in response, his thin brown face devoid of expression.

Sam studies a stand of pine trees passing by the window. "Didn't you used to live here, Jimmy, when you were a kid?"

James grimaces. "Yeah. It's a shithole. I ain't been here since I ten."

Sam yawns. He didn't sleep last night. Normally, he sleeps like a baby at Riverbend, stretched out all by himself in a clean, soft bed. It's a far cry from sleeping at home, where he has always shared a lopsided mattress and threadbare sheets with at least one other person. Last night, though, after Elise bedded him down in the attic room, he just laid there for hours, staring up into the darkness.

Wondering if he would still have a family tomorrow.

Whenever Sam closed his eyes and tried to sleep he would feel his soul rising out of his body. He would feel the spirits calling him, beckoning to him like a bunch of peddlers from the corners of the room. He could feel how many things they wanted to tell him. He could feel how important those things were.

But he had no intention of speaking to them.

Whenever Sam closed his eyes and tried to sleep he would remember how he had always had to rescue Dru when they were kids. Dru was always doing stupid things, climbing too high, riding too fast, picking fights with kids bigger than him, just to see if he could win. He never seemed to mind that he'd end up falling or wiping out or getting his ass kicked. Pain didn't bother him. He never got discouraged.

Dru's lost somewhere, now. Shut away in a dark place, having a really bad time. Sam doesn't want to think about it, but the feeling won't leave him alone. Last night he felt how scared his little brother was. He can still feel how scared he is now.

"Dude, wake up." James pokes him in the shoulder.

"I'm awake."

"Want me to take you to the trading post?"

"Yeah. I need to ask if Will came through here."

James wraps his fingers around the steering wheel more tightly and falls silent, working his jaw back and forth. He's spoken maybe two or three times since they left Riverbend, no dirty jokes, no running off at the mouth...it's really not like him.

"Hey, Jimmy. Is Elise gonna kick your ass for bringing me up here?"

"Hell, yeah. But, whatever. She kicks my ass for a lot of things. No big."

Last night after dinner Sam had tried to talk Elise into letting him take some of the guys, like a search party, to go after his father and sister. Elise had listened, quietly and thoughtfully. Then she asked him why he couldn't trust his father to take care of things. She did, she said.

Elise thinks nothing can kill Will. She worships him like he's some kind of helpful ghost.

So Sam had told her about his dream, his vision of his father standing on the other side of a dark river, his vision of his dead mother, telling him he had to take charge. Elise wasn't impressed. She patted his arm and said it was simply a nightmare. Then she sent everyone to bed without giving him an answer.

After staring at the ceiling in his room for hours, Sam had gone and awakened James. He knew he couldn't afford to wait for Elise to decide. He knew if she denied him help he'd never make it to the Canyon in time.

The trading post is quiet and dark. Sam and James stand on the porch, looking out across the parking lot toward the scattered trailers and board houses that line both sides of the used-up highway. Far away up the road there is one house with a light in the window. Otherwise, there are few signs of life.

James shoves his hands into his pockets. "Nobody's up yet," he observes, tightly.

"I can wait. So, if you're from here, Jimmy, what's your best guess on where they went down into the Canyon?"

"Only one good trail into the Canyon from here, Sam. Trail head's about a mile or so up that little road there." He waves his right hand toward an old dirt service road that takes off from the main road several hundred feet away.

"After we check with folks here, think you could show it to me?"

"Um..." James pushes his hands deeper into his pockets and looks down, jaw working harder. "I guess I could."

"Hey man, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

They sit down side by side on the splintered wooden steps, watching the morning light begin its slow fade from lavender to yellow. A skinny, spotted dog runs through the parking lot, pausing to sniff in their direction and then continuing on its way.

James sits lost in thought for a few minutes, slowly flipping the key to the Blazer end over end between his thumb and forefingers. "I want to go with you, Sam, but I can't," he says finally, quickly, with a hint of anger in his voice.

"I wasn't really expecting you to, Jimmy."

"I know." James gets up from the top step and climbs down to the bottom, jamming his hands in his pockets again and turning back to Sam. "You know what kind of people you and Will's headed for, don't you, Sam?"

"I guess. They're not good people, I know."

"Shit. 'Not good.' That's a laugh."

"Whatever. It's not like I have a lot of choice."

A screen door slams. Sam and James exchange a look and then leave the steps, following a cracked sidewalk through the weeds toward the back of the trading post.

They pause at the corner of the building. There's an outhouse a hundred feet or so back. A scrawny kid stumbles out, yawning and zipping his pants.

"Fuck," James mutters, stamping his foot down into the dirt, his whole body jerking in frustration. "Bitty."

"Who?"

"I know that kid. Um, that dead guy I was telling you about that Will burned up night before last...that kid's his little brother."

"Shit, you *knew* that guy? Why didn't you tell Will?"

"Oh, right. Stephen was already dead. I couldn't of helped him. All that woulda gotten me is the third degree."

The kid disappears into the trading post, leaving the screen door swinging open behind him.

James leans against the wall and stares at the sky. "What the fuck," he mutters. "Might as well see what he knows."

Sam and James follow the boy inside. They find him stretching out on a dirty cot in the back of the store.

"Hey, Bitty. Wake up," James says, kicking the leg of the cot.

"Wha - " The kid pops up fast, reaching instinctively for his boots.

Probably got a knife or a gun stashed in there, Sam thinks, kicking the boots out of reach. "We're not here to cause trouble," he says, evenly.

The kid blinks at them, rubbing his eyes. He looks up at James. "Shit. 'Zat you, Jimmy?"

"Yeah. Look, this is Sam. We gotta ask you something."

Bitty's heavy lids swing open a little wider as he looks at Sam. "I don't know nothin'." He gets up off the bed and takes a few steps towards the stove.

"Hey man, just hear us out," James says, following him. "Sam's looking for his daddy and his brother and some other folks. We just need to see did any strangers come through here yesterday."

Bitty opens the front of the stove and starts filling it with kindling and bits of tinder. "I can't talk to you, Jimmy," he says, his voice shaking. "You know it. And I ain't talking to him, either."

He lights a wooden match and almost drops it as he reaches out to touch it to some paper in the stove.

James is undeterred. "Oh, shit, man. Whatever. Hey, no one's around. Just pretend I was never here. All's we need is for you to tell Sam, here, if you saw a fella that looks a lot like him, only older. Some other folks was with him. They was driving a gray truck."

Bitty opens a metal box and starts scooping coffee into a dented coffee pot. "I ain't seen nobody."

"You sure?"

The boy shakes his head. "Nobody. Shit, Jimmy. Red'll be here soon."

"Okay, we'll leave. Listen, I know you probably know about Stephen..."

The boy freezes, holding the coffee pot, staring down at the floor.

James keeps talking, lowering his voice. "I was there when they sent him off, Bitty. At Riverbend, okay? Sam's daddy did the sending. It was done right. Just so you'll know."

Bitty doesn't move. His knuckles get white as he squeezes the handle of the coffee pot. "They was here," he whispers, after a few moments. "Yesterday afternoon early. I don't know where they went after that."

"Good man," James tells him, laying his hand on Bitty's shoulder.

~~~~

James pulls out of the trading post parking lot in a hurry.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sam asks, as they turn up the service road. "Why the hell was he so scared to talk to you, man?"

James drives, lips set in a straight line. "Okay, listen. Like I said, I wasn't around when Will and them was talking about coming up here, but I know who it is they're chasing."

"Who?"

"A guy named Gary Birch."

"Yeah, I know that. Little guy. Real ugly. He was at our place and Dru went with him."

"Well, he *owns* Desert View, and he's no one to fuck with, boy."

"He Resistance, like he said?"

"Oh hell, no. I think he *was* Resistance, like, a long time ago. Like, before you and me were even born. But now, shit. If there's a Resistance around here, I ain't ever seen it. Naw, this is something else."

"Like what?"

"Them people in the canyon, where you're headed. They're doing something really bad up there, Sam. I don't know exactly what, but..."

James pulls into a weed-covered parking lot and stops the truck.

"What?" Sam asks, urgently. "Dude, I'm going after my father and I need to know whatever you know."

James closes his eyes. "Bitty was scared to talk to me because he works for Birch. Everybody in Desert View works for Birch. If you cross him, you get it, POW. I don't know what Stephen did, but he must've done something."

Sam's stomach twists. "Where's that trailhead? 'Round here somewhere?"

"Yeah. Right through those bushes, I think."

They get out of the truck. Sam opens the back of the Blazer and gets out his pack and canteen. "So Jimmy, what'd you do to piss Birch off, then? Shit, you were just a kid when you lived here."

James leans against the car, face suddenly gone sullen. "It's not me, Sam. It was my dad."

"Ah, shit, of course. You mean..."

"Yeah. That's it. Birch killed him to make him be quiet."

Sam sets his pack down. "Tell me what happened, Jimmy." Suddenly he can feel James' fear and grief, blowing through his body, like a chilly breeze.

"Oh, shit, Sam," James rasps. "There's not much I can tell."

"Tell all you can, then."

"Okay, listen. This is all I know. Birch came to our place one night and gave my daddy a job. Take a car and meet a woman out on West Road, near Moenkopi. Take her to Riverbend. Wait and then take her back. I was sitting right at the table in the kitchen when Birch gave my dad the orders. It was like, just a normal fetch-and-carry kind of thing, the kind of shit everybody did for Birch. When my daddy came back from that job he was hot. I never saw him so mad. He told me if he ever heard of them doing again what they did to that woman, he was gonna start telling folks. He was gonna spread the word. He didn't just tell it to me, he told it around Desert View, too. So Birch came to see him again. They were outside arguing, and I came out the back door and hid under the porch. And all I remember hearing was my daddy telling Birch he was gonna go to that woman's husband and tell him what they'd done to her. Wasn't five minutes later he was dead. Shit, I just went back inside and hid. Next day, Elise's daddy, you know, Mr. Solomon, he pulls up and tells me I live with him now."

Sam takes a deep breath. He exhales, slowly. "Shit," he says, running his fingers through his hair.

James slumps against the Blazer, kicking at the ground. "That's why I can't go with you, Sam, even though...god dammit, it seems like I should."

~~~~

They cross the parking area, headed toward a thick stand of bushes on its far side. "I wonder if this is where they went in," Sam muses as they walk. "Ben's truck should be around here, somewhere."

"If I was him, I wouldn't leave it sittin'," James observes. "Someone'll come along and pick it clean."

"Ever been down this trail, Jimmy?"

"I been to the river, just to go swimming. Trail's steep as hell, about ten miles long, I think. There ain't no water 'til you get to the river. My dad used to stash some along the trail for the way back."

"Your dad ever tell you where Birch and his people hide out?"

"Birch and his people all live in Desert View. They don't need to hide. The people Birch works for, now, *they're* the ones that hide out in the Canyon. I don't think my dad was ever there, though. It's upriver somewheres is all I know. Daddy always figured at least a days walk, just from watching Birch come and go."

Sam looks down as they reach the edge of the parking area. "Jimmy, look."

In the dirt beside the concrete there is a fresh tire track. His eyes follow it for a couple of feet, then it fades into the soil. "Damn you, Ben," Sam mutters, pointing down. "Matt was probably cussing like hell when he had to come back and wipe out all those tracks."

"You can still follow 'em, though..." James says, squatting down and peering. "It's all still fresh."

They find Ben's truck a good quarter mile away. It's parked behind a big boulder, locked up tight with the cab crammed full of stuff. "Damn." Sam peers inside at the jumble of clothes, books, and miscellaneous supplies. "Damn," he says again, more emphatically. "I thought if I found Ben's truck I'd find..."

"What?"

"You know, maybe they made camp, maybe someone stayed with the truck..."

"You mean, you was hoping maybe Kaya didn't go into the Canyon after all."

Sam sighs. "Yeah, I guess I was hoping that."

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?"

"What the hell is this?"

Sam straightens up and looks where James is pointing. Drawn on the hood of the truck in red dirt is an eye- shaped oval, with a circle of rocks in the center. A small, horned doll, made of human hair and feathers, rests in the center of the rocks.

Sam smiles. "Don't you know what that is by now, Jimmy?"

James snorts in exasperation. "It's a charm, ain't it? What the hell."

"It's the sign of a 'powaqa', Two Hearts, a sorcerer." Sam laughs. "Either that's Will's idea of a joke or it's to protect the truck. To make people afraid to touch it."

"Well, shit. It's working."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Jimmy," Sam says, gently. "Will's never done evil to anybody or anything. He just knows what scares folks, that's all." He reaches over and picks up the doll.

"Holy shit, Sam." James takes a step back.

"Settle down, puss-boy." There's a scrap of paper hidden underneath the kachina doll. Sam picks it up and unfolds it. "West Road to Desert View. Twelve miles due north into the Canyon. Ten miles upriver to the mouth of the Little Colorado. North side of the wheel. Forty feet up the canyon wall."

Sam folds the paper again, puts it in his pocket. He sets the kachina back in place. "Thanks a lot, Will," he murmurs.

Afternoon Near the Confluence of the Colorado and Little Colorado Rivers Northeastern Grand Canyon __________

Pale, gauzy curtains drift in the shadows, nudged against the bedpost by the cool night breeze. There's a soft, steady swishing sound off in the distance. She's not sure if it's the river rushing or the wind simply stirring the pines.

His arm tightens around her waist; the fingertips of his free hand gliding slowly the full length of her leg. His lips stroke her breast, gently, like a baby, nuzzling, searching. He traces her nipple with the tip of his nose. She laughs softly, savoring the dark, musky aroma that rises from the tangled sheets. With a luxurious sigh, she draws her lips across his forehead, burying kisses in his hair like pieces of gold.

This is the perfect moment. The moment she's been waiting for. "Mulder, I have something to tell you..."

Curious. Her voice has changed, become higher, more musical.

Mulder wraps his lips silently around her breast, pulling her nipple softly, deeply into his mouth. With a muted cry he suckles, insensible, unheeding.

"Mulder, please. Can you listen for a minute?" With a growing sense of urgency, she cups his face between her hands and tries to lift it. He whimpers and fights her, pushing deeper into her body.

"Mulder, you've got to look at me. There are things you need to know."

"No," he whispers, hiding his face between her breasts. "No, no, no...."

"Will," she begs desperately, "Will, you have to listen..."

The voice of a stranger echoes inside her head.

"I have to tell you what they did to me. You need to know what they've done..."

Dana jerks awake. Her eyes fly open. She didn't mean to fall asleep; she can't imagine how it happened. She lifts her head from Mulder's shoulder and shifts wearily away from the sharp rock wall that's digging into her back.

"Scully. I'm sorry. We have to get moving again."

"Oh," she gasps, heart pounding, "Okay..." She struggles to her feet, blinking in the glare.

His arm slips around her; for a moment she leans against him.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"Yes, I...um, I just had a really weird dream."

"Here, drink this." He hands her a canteen and she takes a swig of metallic-tasting water, swallowing with effort, the warm liquid running down her dry throat like a sudden downpour washing over parched earth.

Dana feels like they've spent the day scouting craters on the moon. Since they left the river at daybreak they have ascended and descended at regular intervals, traveling laboriously, on treacherous switchbacks, up and down out of the cliffs. They have slipped in and out of numerous dry creek-beds, wandering in search of elusive, decades-old trail markers.

Earlier this afternoon, they came over a rise and got the first glimpse of their destination. Dana found herself trembling as she stood watching the distant swirl of the two converging rivers. The descent to the confluence was long and torturous. They traveled back downstream a half-mile or so and crossed a ford to the north side of the Colorado. That was perhaps half an hour ago. Their clothes are still drying and they just stopped to rest after climbing yet another steep switchback.

Mulder takes a few steps up the trail, shading his eyes with his hand. He scans the cliffs that tower behind them. "This landscape feels right. This is the area he showed me."

Dana kneels and tightens her boot-lace. She has never been so exhausted. "What are we going to do when we find this place, Mulder?"

He frowns. "I'm not sure yet."

Kaya stands a few feet away, her pack on her back. She is red-faced and grim, jaw set in determination. She has not spoken for hours. Matthew stands next to her. By contrast, he still seems energetic, even though his body is loaded like a pack animal, wrapped in yards of heavy rope, a rifle strapped across his broad back. He shifts his load, ready to start walking again.

Ben watches his young friend pacing restlessly back and forth. He is still lounging on the ground, his back against a boulder. "We should make camp. Light'll be going soon."

"We're close. We need to keep going." Mulder shoulders his pack and takes a drink from his canteen. "Just another mile or two and we'll find what we're looking for. I'm sure of it."

Ben drops his head to his chest, rolling his head from side to side. "But this is a good place to make camp. It's sheltered."

"Ben, come on."

"Everyone's beat, Will. We've been walking all day."

"We're almost there."

Ben chuckles ironically, lifting his eyes and regarding Mulder evenly. "Almost *where*, Will?" he asks softly.

Mulder slams his boot down into the dirt and glares at his friend without speaking.

After a long moment, Ben heaves a weary sigh. "You're a fucking maniac, you know that?"

Mulder's face softens. He removes his specs, wipes sweat from the bridge of his nose, and puts them back on again. Finally, he looks down. "I know we're all tired. It's just...I've got a really bad feeling," he murmurs.

Kaya turns toward her father with a stricken look. "About what?" she asks.

"We just need to keep moving, that's all."

~~~~

They walk. The sun beats down.

Matthew lopes along a good twenty to thirty feet ahead of them, as he has all day. He scans the rocks for trail markers and calls out warnings whenever hazards present themselves. Mulder isn't far behind him. Dana is beginning to think it would have been better if Mulder and Matt had come into the canyon alone. She is sure they would have made better time. She steps on a loose rock and loses her footing, the weight of her pack pulling her off her feet.

"Whoa, Dana." Ben catches her as she tumbles backward. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just tripped. Thanks."

"Need to rest for a minute?"

Dana watches Kaya's back as she disappears between two boulders ahead of them. She drops her pack wearily to the ground. "Maybe for just a minute..."

"What are you carrying? Can I take something for you?"

Dana opens the top of her pack. "I'm not carrying that much, Ben. I have some food, a lantern, the kerosene can..."

"Put the kerosene in my pack." He reaches in and helps himself to the can. "You shouldn't be carrying anything, Dana. It's too soon for you to be making this kind of trip in the first place."

Dana falls silent, watching him rearranging the supplies. "Ben..."

"Yeah?"

"I've never thanked you. For what you did for me. I've wanted to, but I didn't know how."

Ben stops moving. He stares into the depths of his pack. "You don't need to thank me."

"Oh, I know. I know. But you've been so...um, nice to me, you know. So kind. I know if it wasn't for you and Matt I'd probably be dead."

He closes his pack, jerking the drawstring. "I did what any decent guy would have done, Dana."

He stands up. "I'm glad things are working out for you," he mutters.

There is a shout from the trail ahead of them. "Ben!"

He turns away quickly. "Here!"

"Ben!"

Kaya appears at the spot where they last saw her, emerging breathlessly from between the boulders. "Ben, it's Matt. Hurry."

They follow Kaya up the trail until they come to a spot where Mulder's pack lies abandoned at the edge of a steep embankment.

"Matt was looking for the trail marker," Kaya tells them, tearfully. "Some rocks came loose..."

"My god," Ben says, heading for the edge. "Where is he?"

"There." Kaya points. "Down there."

Matthew has fallen a good twenty feet. His body is motionless, lying in a tangle of rope just a few feet from the edge of the river. Mulder is picking his way toward him, the sharp incline of the hillside forcing him to turn sideways, practically lying on his side as he descends.

Ben throws the supplies he's carrying to the ground and starts down the slope. Dana shrugs her pack off her shoulders and follows suit. Dirt and slag tumble downward in sheets as she slides toward the bottom, the harsh, rocky soil scraping her bare legs. Other stones roll by her, kicked loose as Kaya comes behind. By the time they join Mulder and Ben on the ledge, Matthew is sitting upright. He has a goose egg on his forehead and his face is scraped and bleeding, but he seems, at first glance, to be all in one piece.

"God, Matt, are you all right?" Kaya drops to her knees and whips the scarf off her head, using it to dab at the blood on his ruddy face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Shit. Guess that wasn't the trail."

Ben instantly sets to work freeing his friend from his pack and the mass of rope that encircles his body. "Lucky you had all this shit for padding, my friend."

Mulder probes the lump on Matt's forehead. Matt winces, pulling away. "Be still and lie down," Mulder tells him. "That was a hell of a fall. Let's check you out."

Matthew reclines, laying his head gratefully in Kaya's lap.

"Does anything hurt?" Dana asks him.

"Everything hurts," he replies. "But nothing bad. Except I turned my ankle when I slipped on those rocks."

Mulder pulls his boot off, feeling for broken bones. Matthew groans as Mulder runs his fingers down both sides of his ankle. "Damn, now, Will. That *does* hurt."

"Nothing broken, as far as I can tell," Mulder observes. "You're a lucky bastard, Matt. But it's sprained, I think. This is going to slow you down."

"You mean 'slow *us* down," Matt quips. "I'm sorry, Will. This sucks."

Mulder nods ruefully. "Yeah. Kaya, can I have your scarf?"

Mulder folds the scarf into a triangle and starts wrapping Matthew's ankle. Dana examines Matthew's pupils while Mulder works.

"Are you at all dizzy?" she asks.

"If I am do I get to keep my pillow?" Matthew looks up at Kaya with a wry grin. She makes a soft, sympathetic sound and lays her hand against his cheek.

"I don't think there's any head trauma, Mulder. I think he just got a bump."

"Holy shit," Matt exclaims.

"Sorry, man," Mulder says. "Did I pull it too tight?"

"No, *look*." Matthew lifts his arm and points. His eyes are locked onto something behind them, something above their heads. They turn en masse and raise their eyes to the spot.

"Oh my god," Dana breathes.

"What is that?" Kaya asks.

"God, Matt, if you hadn't fallen down here we would have walked right past it," Ben says, staring in awe up the canyon wall.

The stone stairway is ancient, cut into the bluff above them; its bottom step hanging suspended some forty feet over the ground below.

"Who would put a stairway there?" Kaya asks, bewildered. "It just stops. Where's the rest of it?"

"That must have been the river level at one time," Ben muses. "The stairs led to the river."

Mulder rises from the ground, staring up at thestairway with a look of stupefaction. "How the hell do they come and go through that?" he asks no one in particular.

"Guess we'll make camp here."

End 3 of 9