p&c.thunderhead-第38章

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　the　clubhouse。　As　a　boy；　Skip　had　ridden　his　father's　dirt　bike　right　through　where　the　clubhouse　now　stood。　That　was　ten　years　ago；　he　mused。　There　hadn't　been　a　house　within　three　miles。　Now　it　was　home　to　seventy…two　holes　of　golf　and　six　hundred　condominiums。　
　The　big　car　had　picked　up　speed　and　the　curve　was　ing　up　fast。　Mentally　returning　to　his　potsherds；　Skip　put　his　foot　on　the　brake。　
　And　felt　it　sink；　without　resistance；　to　the　metal　floorboards。　
　Instantly　he　sat　forward；　adrenaline　burning　through　his　limbs。　He　pressed　the　pedal　again；　then　stamped　on　it。　Nothing。　He　looked　ahead　through　wide　eyes。　Just　a　quarter　mile　ahead　now；　the　road　veered　to　the　left；　avoiding　a　huge　ledge　of　basalt　that　thrust　out　of　the　desert。　With　horrible　clarity；　Skip　could　see　a　metal　plaque　screwed　into　the　ledge。　
　FOX　RUN　COUNTRY　CLUB
　CAUTION：　GOLFERS　CROSSING　
　He　glanced　at　the　speedometer：　sixty…two。　He'd　never　make　the　turn；　he'd　wipe　out；　turn　over。　He　could　throw　it　into　reverse；　or　even　park；　but　that　might　pitch　the　car　out　of　control　and　wrap　him　around　the　ledge。　
　In　desperation；　he　jammed　on　the　emergency　brake。　There　was　a　sudden　lunge　and　a　high　squealing　sound；　and　the　smell　of　burning　steel　filled　the　car。　The　dog　sprawled　forward；　yelping　in　surprise。　Dimly；　he　was　aware　of　a　party　of　white…haired　golfers　on　a　nearby　green；　swiveling　their　necks　and　staring；　open…mouthed；　as　he　flew　by。　Somebody　jumped　out　of　a　golf　cart　and　began　to　sprint　toward　the　clubhouse。　
　The　wheel　bucked　in　Skip's　hands　and　he　realized　he　was　losing　control。　The　basalt　ledge　yawned　ahead；　no　more　than　a　few　seconds　away。　He　turned　the　car　sharply　to　the　left。　It　twisted　beneath　him；　turning　wide；　then　swinging　around　in　one　plete　revolution；　then　another。　Skip　was　shouting　now　but　he　couldn't　hear　himself　over　the　squealing　of　the　tires。　In　a　dense　pall　of　burning　rubber；　the　car　sheered　off　the　road；　still　spinning；　the　tires　catching　first　gravel；　then　grass。　There　was　a　tremendous　lurch　and　the　car　came　to　a　violent　stop。　A　thick　wash　of　cream…colored　sand　settled　on　the　dashboard　and　hood。　
　Skip　sat　motionless；　fingers　glued　to　the　dead　wheel。　The　squeal　of　tires　was　replaced　by　the　tick　of　cooling　metal。　Dimly；　he　was　aware　that　he　had　landed　in　a　bunker；　canted　sharply　to　one　side。　Black；　foul…smelling；　slobbering　lips　and　tongue　hovered　before　his　eyes　as　Teddy　Bear　frantically　licked　at　his　face。　
　The　sounds　of　pattering　feet；　quick　worried　conversation；　then　a　rap　on　the　windshield。　〃Sonny？〃　came　the　concerned　voice。　〃Hey；　son；　you　okay？〃　
　If　Skip　heard；　he　gave　no　sign。　Instead；　he　removed　his　trembling　hands　from　the　wheel；　grasped　the　two　ends　of　the　seat　belt；　and　slowly　fastened　them　around　his　waist。　
　
　
29
　
　THE　REST　OF　THE　FIRST　FULL　DAY　OF　WORK　AT　Quivira　went　exceptionally　well。　The　core　members　of　the　expedition　set　to　their　tasks　with　a　professionalism　that　both　impressed　and　heartened　Nora。　Black；　in　particular；　had　settled　down　and　was　quickly　confirming　his　reputation　as　a　top…notch　field…worker。　With　remarkable　speed；　Holroyd　had　assembled　a　wireless　paging　network；　designed　around　a　central　transmitter；　to　allow　the　members　of　the　group　to　municate　with　each　other　from　anywhere　within　the　site。　The　fascination　and　allure　of　Quivira　worked　a　special　magic　on　professional　and　amateur　alike。　Around　the　campfire　that　evening；　again　and　again；　conversation　would　spontaneously　cease；　and；　as　if　with　a　single　mind；　all　eyes　would　be　irresistibly　drawn　up　the　dark　walls　of　the　canyon；　in　the　direction　of　the　invisible　hollow　where　the　city　was　concealed。　
　As　the　following　morning　drew　to　a　close；　early　summer　heat　had　settled　in　the　canyon　below；　but　halfway　up　the　cliff　face；　beneath　the　shadow　of　the　rock；　the　city　itself　remained　cool。　Holroyd　had　ascended　the　ladder；　checked　in　with　the　Institute；　and　descended　without　incident；　returning　to　his　task　of　scanning　the　roomblocks　with　the　proton　magnetometer。　Once　that　was　done；　he　would　use　a　handheld　remote　for　the　GPS　system　to　survey　the　major　points　of　the　site。　
　Nora　sat　on　the　retaining　wall　at　the　front　of　the　city；　near　the　rope　ladder　leading　down　to　the　valley　floor。　Bonarotti　had　sent　up　their　sack　lunches　using　the　pulley　system；　and　Nora　opened　hers　with　anticipation。　Inside　was　a　wedge　of　Port　du　Salut　cheese；　four　generous　slices　of　prosciutto　di　Parma；　and　a　marvelously　thick　and　dense　hunk　of　bread　that　Bonarotti　had　baked　in　his　Dutch　oven　that　morning　after　breakfast。　She　ate　with　little　ceremony；　washing　the　meal　down　with　a　swig　from　her　canteen；　and　then　rose　to　her　feet。　As　leader；　she　was　putting　together　the　data　for　a　field　specimen　catalogue；　and　it　was　time　to　check　on　the　progress　of　the　others。　
　She　walked　beneath　the　shadows　of　the　ancient　adobe　walls　to　the　far　end　of　the　ruin's　front　plaza。　Here；　near　the　foot　of　the　Planetarium；　Black　and　Smithback　were　working　in　the　city's　great　midden　heap：　a　dusty；　oversized　mound　of　dirt；　broken　animal　bones；　charcoal；　and　potsherds。　As　she　approached；　she　could　see　Smithback's　head　pop　up　from　a　cut　at　the　far　end；　face　dirty；　cowlick　bobbing　with　displeasure。　She　smiled　despite　herself　at　the　sight。　Though　she'd　never　give　him　the　pleasure　of　knowing　it；　she'd　begun　dipping　in　to　the　book　he　had　given　her。　And；　she　had　to　admit；　it　was　a　fascinating；　frightening　story；　despite　the　near…miraculous　way　Smithback　had　of　taking　part　in　almost　every　important　or　heroic　event　he　described。　
　Black's　voice　came　echoing　off　the　cave　wall。　〃Bill；　haven't　you　finished　grid　F…one　yet？〃　
　〃Why　don't　you　F　one　yourself；〃　Smithback　muttered　in　return。　
　Black　came　around　the　mound　in　high　spirits；　carrying　a　trowel　in　one　hand　and　a　whiskbroom　in　the　other。　〃Nora；〃　he　said；　with　a　smile；　〃this　will　interest　you。　I　don't　believe　there's　been　a　clearer　cultural　sequence　since　Kidder　excavated　the　mound　at　Pecos。　And　that's　just　from　the　control　pit　we　dug　yesterday；　now　we're　pleting　the　first　baulks　of　the　test　trench。〃　
　〃The　man　says　'we。'〃　Smithback　leaned　on　his　shovel；　and　held　out　a　trembling　hand　to　Nora。　〃For　the　love　of　Jaysus；　can　ye　not　spare　a　wee　drop　for　a　poor　dying　sinner？〃　
　Nora　handed　him　her　canteen；　and　he　drank　deeply。　〃That　man　is　a　sadist；〃　he　said；　wiping　his　mouth。　〃I'd　have　been　better　off　building　the　pyramids。　I　want　a　transfer。〃　
　〃When　you　signed　on；　you　knew　you　were　going　to　be　a　digger；〃　Nora　said；　retrieving　the　canteen。　〃What　better　way　to　get　your　hands　dirty；　literally　and　figuratively？　Besides；　I'll　bet　it　isn't　the　first　time　you've　done　some　muckraking。〃　
　〃Et　tu；　Brute？〃　Smithback　sighed。　
　〃e　and　see　what　we've　done；〃　said　Black；　guiding　Nora　to　a　small；　precise　cut　in　the　side　of　the　mound。　
　〃This　is　the　control　pit？〃　Nora　asked。　
　〃Yes；〃　Black　nodded。　〃Beautiful　soil　profile；　don't　you　think？〃　
　〃Perfection；〃　Nora　replied。　She'd　never　seen　such　neat　work　or　such　potentially　rich　results。　She　could　see　where　the　two　men　had　cut　through　the　midden；　exposing　dozens　of　thin　layers　of　brown；　gray；　and　black　soil；　revealing　how　the　trash　mound　had　grown　over　time。　The　stratified　layers　had　each　been　labeled　with　tiny；　numbered　flags；　and　even　smaller　flags　marked　spots　where　artifacts　had　been　removed。　On　the　ground　beside　the　cut　were　dozens　of　Baggies　and　glass　tubes；　carefully　aligned；　each　with　its　own　artifact；　seed；　bone；　or　lump　of　charcoal。　Nearby；　Nora　could　see　that　Black　had　set　up　a　portable　water　flotation　lab　and　stereozoom　microscope　for　separating　pollen；　small　seeds；　and　human　hair　from　the　detritus。　Next　to　it　was　a　small　paper　chromatography　setup　for　analyzing　solubles。　It　was　a　highly　professional　job；　executed　with　remarkable　assurance　and　speed。　
　〃It's　a　textbook　sequence；〃　said　Black。　〃At　the　top　is　Pueblo　III；　where　we　see　corrugated　and　some　red　ware。　Under　that　is　Pueblo　II。　The　sequence　begins　abruptly　at　about　A。D。　950。〃　
　〃The　same　time　the　Anasazi　started　building　Chaco　Canyon；〃　Nora　said。　
　〃Correct。　Below　this　layer〃…he　pointed　to　a　layer　of　light　brown　dirt…〃is　sterile　soil。〃　
　〃Meaning　the　city　was　built　all　at　once；〃　Nora　said。　
　〃Exactly。　And　take　a　look　at　this。〃　Black　opened　a　Ziploc　bag　and　gently　slid　three　potsherds　onto　a　nearby　piece　of　felt。　They　glinted　dully　in　the　noon　sun。　
　Nora　drew　in　her　breath　sharply。　〃Black…on…yellow　micaceous；〃　she　murmured。　〃How　beautiful。〃　
　Black　raised　an　eyebrow。　〃The　rarest　of　the　rare。　So　you've　seen　the　type　before？〃　
　〃Once；　on　my　Rio　Puerco　dig。　It　was　very　weathered；　of　course；　nobody's　ever　found　an　intact　pot。〃　It　was　a　testament　to　the　richness　of　the　site　that　Black　had　found　three　such　sherds　in　just　one　day's　digging。　
　〃I'd　never　actually　seen　a　piece　before；〃　Black　said。　〃It's　amazing　stuff。　Has　anybody　ever　dated　it？〃　
　〃No。　Only　two　dozen　sherds　have　ever　been　found；　and　they've　all　been　too　isolated。　Maybe　you'll　find　enough　here　for　the　job。〃　
　〃Maybe；〃　Black　replied；　returning　the　fragments　to　the　plastic　bag　with　rubber…tipped　tweezers。　〃Now　look　at　this。〃　He　squatted　beside　the　soil　profile　and　pointed　his　trowel　tip　at　a　series　of　alternating　dark　and　light　bands。　Each　was　littered　with　distinct　layers　of　broken　pottery。　〃There　was　definitely　a　seasonal　occupation　of　the　site。　For　most　of　the　year；　there　were　not　many　people　in　residence；　I'd　guess　fifty　or　less。　And　then　there　was　a　large　influx　every　summer；　obviously　a　seasonal　pilgrimage；　but　on　a　far　vaster　scale　than　at　Chaco。　You　can　tell　by　the　volume　of　broken　pots　and　hearth　ashes。〃　
　A　seasonal　pilgrimage；　Nora　thought。　Sounds　like　Aragon's　ritual　journey　to　a　city　of　priests。　She　decided　not　to　antagonize　Black　by　saying　this　aloud。　〃How　can　you　tell　it　was　summertime？〃　she　asked　instead。　
　〃Pollen　counts；〃　Black　sniffed。　〃But　there's　more。　As　I　said；　we've　only　started　the　test　trench。　But　already　it's　clear　that　the　trash　mound　was　segregated。〃　
　Nora　stared　at　him　curiously。　〃Segregated？〃　
　〃Yes。　In　the　back　part　of　the　mound　there　are　fragments　of　beautiful　painted　pottery　and　the　bones　of　animals　used　for　food。　Turkeys；　deer；　elk；　bear。　There　are　a　lot　of　beads；　whole　arrowheads；　even　chipped　pots。　But　in　the　front　we　find　only　the　crudest；　ugliest　corrugated　pottery。　And　the　food　we　found　in　the　front　of　the　mound　was　clearly　different。〃　
　〃What　kinds　of　foods？〃　
　〃Mostly　rats；〃　said　Black。　〃Squirrels；　snakes；　a　coyote　or　two。　The　flotation　lab　has　brought　up　a　lot　of　crushed　insect　carapaces　and　parts　as　well。　Cockroaches；　grasshoppers；　crickets。　I　did　a　brief　microscopic　examination；　and　most　of　them　seem　to　have　been　lightly　toasted。〃　
　〃They　were　eating　insects？〃　Nora　asked　incredulously。　
　〃Without　a　doubt。〃　
　〃I　prefer　my　bugs　al　dente；〃　said　Smithback；　with　an　unpleasant　smacking　of　his　lips。　
　Nora　looked　at　Black。　〃What's　your　interpretation　of　this？〃　
　〃Well；　there's　never　been　anything　like　it　in　Anasazi　sites。　But　in　other　sites；　this　kind　of　thing　points　directly　to　slavery。　The　masters　and　slaves　ate　different　things　and　dumped　their　trash　in　different　places。〃　
　〃Aaron；　there　isn't　a　shred　of　evidence　that　the　Anasazi　had　slaves。〃　
　Black　looked　back　at　her。　〃There　is　now。　Either　slavery；　o