The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) (4 page)

“Carma and Lyman are up to something,” Deem said as she rode
with Winn the next morning. The sun hadn’t crested in the east, but there was
enough light to drive without the lights on. They were headed down a county
road southwest from Hurricane, into areas where few people ever went.

“Have you figured out what, yet?” Winn asked.

“I don’t know, she hasn’t given me any details,” Deem
replied. “Can’t be a total secret because she knows I know something is going
on. That’s why she couldn’t go out to Fredonia herself yesterday. She said she
was busy with Lyman.”

“When I got to her place yesterday to get the address for
you, she was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, constantly
going up and down the stairs to the basement.”

“Yeah, something’s up. It worries me a little. Remember her
talking about fuses a while back?”

“Yeah. And you Mormons like to blow things up, so it’s
disconcerting.”

“Blow things up?” Deem asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Mark Hoffman?” Winn replied. “The pipe bombs in Salt Lake?
The salamander thing?”

Deem scrunched up her face. “Huh?”

“You don’t know your own history,” Winn said. “Typical.”

“There’s a lot of anti-Mormon crap out there,” Deem replied.
“Don’t believe everything you read.”

“The fact that Mark Hoffman killed two people with bombs and is
sitting at Point of the Mountain right now, in jail for life, isn’t made up,”
Winn said. “It’s a fact. He’s actually there, for real.”

“Well, I don’t see what that has to do with this,” Deem
replied.

“I’m just saying Mormons can get pretty violent,” Winn said.
“You know all the weird shit the pligs do.”

“Yeah,” Deem replied. “I’ll give you that.”

“And Carma and Lyman are from a different era, when things
were a lot less civilized.”

“Things aren’t that civilized now,” Deem said, thinking of
seeing Claude, murdered in his home.

“Carma and Lyman could well be making a bomb,” Winn said.
“Why else would you need fuse?”

“Should I pry?” Deem asked. “Poke around? Try to find out?”

Winn pondered her question. “I wish Awan were here. He’d know
if we should.”

“Can you call him?” Deem asked.

“I’ll try.”

They drove for miles, the small county road taking them
deeper and deeper into the red rock and sand, and when the sun finally rose,
they had descended into a small valley that had a long narrow expanse of green
running down the left side, and a steep cliff to the right.

“That’s got to be it,” Deem said, staring down at the
topographic map in her lap, and back up at the cliffs on the right. “That’s the
back side of Plague Canyon. The entrance is around those cliffs about a mile.”

They drove down into the valley, Winn looking for an access
road they could take on the right. One appeared after several miles, and he turned
off, running over a cattle guard and into large sagebrush. It wasn’t long
before they came to a barbed wire fence blocking the path, with metal signs
attached, warning of private property.

“Well, that’s it for the Jeep,” Winn said, pulling off the
dirt road a little, and turning off the vehicle. “We walk from here. Any idea
how far?”

“I’m guessing two miles,” Deem replied, taking a final look
at the map before folding it up and jumping out of the jeep. She went to the
back seat and retrieved her backpack, putting the map inside. “Come on, let’s
go.”

▪ ▪ ▪

As they reached the mouth of the canyon, Deem stopped to take
in the view. The hike had been easy, and she was glad they’d started early in
the morning, before it got too hot. A small streambed stretched out of the
canyon, with green trees and plants surrounding it, and things becoming
progressively drier the farther you went from it. The steep rock walls of the
canyon were impressive even from the mouth. Deem knew they’d become even more
steep and narrow the farther they went into the canyon.

“The map shows it going in at least a mile,” Deem said.

Winn was already scanning the sides of the canyon with a
small set of binoculars. “I can’t see anything from here. No cliff dwellings,
nothing like that.”

“Look at this,” Deem said, noticing a hand-made wooden sign
someone had staked into the ground twenty feet ahead of them. They walked up to
the sign and Winn read it.

“Private Property. Dangerous Canyon. Stay…” he read, stopping
where the bottom board of the sign had been removed.

“…Out,” Deem finished. “I assume.”

“Looks old,” Winn said, observing the lettering on the board,
which had been burned into the wood by hand. “Must have been made many years
ago.”

Deem noticed a small circle in the upper right corner of the
sign. She stepped closer, and saw that there was a small arrow running though
the circle, pointing to the left. It had been etched into the sign the same way
the letters of the warning had been burned into it.

“What a strange symbol,” Deem said. “Who ever made the sign
deliberately put it there.”

“We’ve still got a ways to go to get in there and back out,”
Winn said. “Come on, let’s start.”

Deem was fixated on the sign, and barely noticed the sound of
someone approaching behind them.

“Hold it right there, you two!” came a low voice.

“Shit,” Winn said, turning around to face the sound.

“This is private property,” the voice behind her said. “Turn
around and face me.”

“Turn around, Deem!” Winn whispered. “He’s got a rifle!”

Deem finally turned, and saw a young man sitting on a horse
about thirty feet away. He looked like he was in his early twenties. He had a
rifle in his hands, but wasn’t aiming it at them.

“Hi,” Deem said as she turned. She looked up at the man, then
smiled. “Warren?”

“Deem?” the man replied.

“You two know each other?” Winn asked.

“What are you doing out here, Deem?” Warren asked, riding a
little closer.

“My friend and I were just hiking,” Deem replied. “We saw
this canyon on a map and thought we’d check it out.”

“You must have seen the private property signs,” Warren said.

“You know that would never stop me!” Deem replied, smiling.

“That’s true,” Warren said. “It wouldn’t.” He smiled back.

“What are
you
doing out here, Warren?” Deem asked.

“I work for Hinton,” he answered. “He owns this land. Things
have become a little heated with the feds, so he’s put a bunch of us out here
to keep an eye on things. You don’t want to go up into that canyon, Deem; trust
me. I can’t let you go up there, anyway. The old timers on Hinton’s crew warn
all the newbies to stay out of there when patrolling. They say it’s named
Plague Canyon for a reason.”

“Convenient name,” Winn said.

“Who’s this?” Warren asked, nodding at Winn.

“Warren, this is my friend, Winthrop James,” Deem said.
“Winn, this is Warren Stucki. We went to high school together.”

“Hi,” Warren said, grabbing the brim of his hat briefly.

“Nice to meet you,” Winn said.

“So we just happened to catch you on patrol?” Deem asked.

“Nah, I saw your dust trail when you left the road, and
followed you in,” Warren said.

“Ah,” Winn said. “Dust trail.”

“I can’t let you go into the canyon,” Warren said. “Like I
said, it’s private property, so you’ll have to clear off.”

“Aw, come on Warren,” Deem said. “Just a little hike? No one
will ever know.”

“They already know,” Warren said. “I called it in when I first
saw you. Hinton logs everything that happens. He’s the most paranoid man I’ve
ever met. I have to tell them I forced you back to your car and onto the road.
Sorry.”

“Well, you could tell them that, but let us explore for a
while,” Deem suggested.

“Not worth the risk,” Warren said. “If they found out you
hadn’t left, I’d lose my job. Besides, like I told you, you don’t want to go up
there. It’s dangerous.”

“Alright, we’ll leave,” Winn offered, and began the trek back
to the Jeep. Deem followed him, and Warren followed them both, hanging back several
feet.

“You still in Mesquite, Deem?” Warren asked from behind them.

“Yeah,” Deem replied. “My dad died a while back.”

“I remember,” Warren said. “I came to the funeral. Was sorry
about it.”

“Oh, I don’t remember seeing you there,” Deem replied.

“You weren’t yourself anyway,” Warren said. “And there were
hundreds of people there. I can’t imagine you’d remember everyone.”

“Thanks for coming, though,” Deem said.

“Oh, sure,” Warren said. “Your dad was an important man to a
lot of people. He set me apart for my mission, you know.”

“Where did you go again, I forget?” Deem asked, trying to
keep up the small talk, hopeful Warren might share more about the canyon.

“Upstate New York,” Warren replied. “Land of the
restoration.”

They chatted more, catching up on events in each other’s
lives since high school. Winn kept out of the conversation. When they finally
reached the Jeep, Warren asked Deem if he could speak to her privately.

“Sure,” Deem said, glancing at Winn, who got into the Jeep.
“I’ll be right there.”

“Take your time,” Winn replied.

Warren got off his horse and stepped several yards from the
Jeep. Deem joined him. Warren kept his back to Winn.

“Sorry I had to kick you out,” Warren said to her.

She looked at him, and now that she was close to him, she
remembered how disarming his blue eyes had always been in high school. “You’re
just doing your job,” she said.

“Sorry for asking, but is he… ” Warren started, nodding his
head toward the car, “…are you two together?”

“Winn?” Deem replied. “Oh, no, we’re just friends.”

“Oh, good,” Warren said, and Deem saw his face start to turn
a little red. “’Cause seeing you again reminded me of how much I admired you in
school.”

“Really?” Deem asked, starting to feel uncomfortable. She
sensed more was about to come from Warren, and she always felt uncomfortable
when she watched boys try to ask her out. She had a reputation for being a hard
date to get, and she knew it intimidated most males.

“Yeah, I always wanted to ask you out in high school, but I
never worked up the nerve.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Deem said.

“If you’re not seeing anyone now,” Warren said, turning even
more red, “I’d love to take you out sometime.”

Deem felt a rush of heat, the same response she always had
when she felt flattered. It mixed with her uncomfortableness, making her feel
slightly nauseous. She remembered liking Warren when they were younger. He
seemed like a nice guy back then; athletic, but not an asshole, kind and
considerate to people at an age when so many weren’t.
A decent scholar, too,
if I remember correctly,
she thought.
And he isn’t at all hard on the
eyes.

“OK,” she replied, hoping that down the road she might be
able to convince him to let them back onto the land. “Sure.”

They exchanged phone numbers, and Deem thanked him. Then she
went to the Jeep, and Winn started it up.

“What was that all about?” he asked, looking into the rear
view mirror as he backed onto the road and turned around.

“He asked me out,” Deem said.

“Really?” Winn replied, surprised. “Were you and he a thing
in school?”

“No,” Deem answered. “But I always liked him. He said he
‘admired’ me.”

“Oh, he wants you!” Winn said. “Did you say yes?”

“I did. We traded phone numbers.”

“Maybe you can manipulate him into letting us back in there.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Handsome guy,” Winn said. “Really butch on that horse,
holding the rifle. Nice eyes, too. I’d do him.”

Deem’s left arm flew through the cab, landing squarely on
Winn’s chest, slapping him. “Shut up!” she said. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Nothing wrong with nice guys,” Winn replied defensively.

She hit him again. “Shut up!”

“Stop hitting me!” Winn yelled. “It hurts!”

“Not everything is a sexual conquest,” Deem said.

“Not everything,” Winn replied smiling, “but
he
would
be.”

“He didn’t ask
you
out,” Deem replied. “So lay off.
Respect boundaries.”

“You’re interested in him?” Winn asked. “Beyond getting back
into the canyon?”

“I’m not saying that,” Deem replied. “Just don’t complicate
things, alright? You’ve got plenty of skanks to keep you busy.”