In the shadows of the spruces and the firs Dick and Bleu Skye (her legal name, she assured him) crunched through the snow that would linger nine months of the year at that altitude.
'I suppose that some people would call us freaks,' Bleu said, the words distorted by her lip wound but he could at least understand her now. Not that he was really listening. Her voice was a rough melody in harmony with the scrunching down of snow and the squeak of pine needles he made with every step. 'And I suppose I don't mind so much, we were trying to build something, is all. A quiet life in a pretty noisy world. Me and Tony, that was my husband, and our boy Stormy.'
Dick's feet were numb with the cold. His brain was numb with implications, meanings, ramifications. He'd just participated in the butchering of another human being. Oh, it had been self defense, sure, and oh, Dick was no peacenik. He owned guns, just like half ofColorado . A couple of target pistols and a hunting rifle and yes, he had used it to kill. To kill white-tailed deer. The idea of hurting a human being intentionally, of true violence, of murder' that he'd never even contemplated before.
'That was nigh on twenty years ago, back when Stormy was just a passenger, you know, when I was carrying him. We built all this with our hands and we loved it, just loved it, no matter if we were hungry. No matter if we didn't know how to do something'we could learn. And all we had to do was walk outside and look up and we knew why we came up here and why we didn't want to go back.'
A half-visible path, a little more clear of snow than the surrounding terrain, went snaking through the trees and they followed it. Dick was lost on that path as he followed Bleu and he couldn't let go of the ice axe. It was like a talisman, some proof that he wasn't an evil man, that he wasn't a killer. Exhibit A in the trial going on in his head. Bleu's voice was just the soundtrack to that groundbreaking bit of courtroom drama and when she started sobbing it was just another instrument in the orchestra. On some level he realized that he wasn't thinking straight.
'I always worried that I couldn't teach Stormy enough. I worried he wouldn't know enough to make it in this life and now' oh God, now''
She stopped, and so did Dick. They'd reached their destination, a wooden structure that had to be a century old. Just a shack really, with one wall open to the elements. Inside the trail lead downward, into the earth. An old abandoned mine entrance. The mountains were riddled with them, leftovers from the gold rush. The wind tore out of it, colder than the outside air, and it made a hollow sound. Dick stepped closer and Bleu took his arm, holding him back. There was something moving down there.
'He died quick. My son died quick. Tony took his time about it. And now' I guess maybe' maybe you should just look. Here.' She handed him a flashlight. He clicked it on and peered down into the darkness.
'How many do you see?' she asked, her voice flinty again. He couldn't see anything.
Then he could. The beam caught on something wriggling, something dark but recognizable. A pair of human legs in snow pants and tan Timberland boots. The legs kicked fitfully. Dick scanned upward with the light, saw a heavy winter jacket. Arms and a head. The face tilted upward and he felt vomit rush up his throat. The skin of the face was red and black and white and yellow. The eyesockets were empty and half of the skin was missing from the jaw. The hands clutched at the slope of the tunnel, digging in until the knuckles stood out like walnuts. The person, because it was a person, yes, was trying to climb out of the tunnel but it was too steep or something.
'How many?' Bleu asked again.
'Two,' Dick said, sweeping the light back and forth. 'No, three. And'are those bones? Skulls. Hu.' He cleared his throat. 'Human.' He clicked off the light and shoved it in his pocket so he could wipe his palms on his jeans. 'I saw two'two skulls.'