I was right where whatever it was had been when I slipped on something, fell hard onto the pavement, and rolled to the curb. There was a roar as a vehicle in the tunnel blew past me, headed south. I lay there for a moment and then, rolling into a sitting position on the curb, I looked at the receding taillights of the car, just another midnight motorist headed home to Shoshoni or Riverton.
I shined the flashlight beam back to where I’d tripped—I could swear it was as if someone had been in the middle of the road in a hunter’s crouch—but how had whatever it was escaped being run over by the passing car? Shaking my head, I gathered the pages that had scattered across the entirety of the tunnel and stuffed them into the folder, none too gently, annoyed with myself for behaving like a rookie and almost getting run over for the trouble.
I limped toward the open air when my boot hit something on the road’s surface again. Cursing the night, I lifted my foot and looked down to see what I’d slipped on reflecting between the centerlines of the road. I knelt just as the figure had and picked up an 1888 Hot Lips Morgan silver dollar.
6
We sat there in Rosey’s cruiser at the pull-off about a hundred yards from the entrance of the north tunnel and watched the giant tow truck pull away with the Diamond Rio tanker.
Henry had driven the Bullet over to meet us, and we’d been there for about forty minutes. The conversation had dwindled to the point where we all just looked at the green numbers on the dash clock as they ticked ever so slowly toward the appointed time, the unmentioned silver dollar burning a hole in my shirt pocket as if it had a circulatory system of its own.
The Bear’s voice rose from the backseat. “How, exactly, did you hurt your leg?”
I’d had to use Rosey’s first-aid kit to patch up my ankle—evidently, my explanation hadn’t been satisfactory. “I tripped on the curb trying to get out of the way of a car that was going through the tunnels.” I glanced at them. “I figured I had plenty of time before Rosey got back, so I thought I’d stroll down to Boysen Dam, but it took longer than I thought, so I decided to pick up my pace and head back, and that’s where I met the car.”
“In the tunnel?”
“Yep.”
“Did you see anything else?”
I cleared my throat. “Um, not really.”
Rosey had been listening but went back to watching the dash. A moment passed, and then she cracked open her door and climbed out. “We have another twenty minutes, so I’m going to grab some air.” She walked toward the guardrail, placed a boot on the metal, and, leaning both arms on a knee, watched the dark water through the rising mist.
“You are a horrible liar; fortunately, she does not know that.”
I turned in my seat to look at the Bear. “Yep, well . . .”
“What really happened?”
Static. A familiar voice crackled over the airwaves. “Unit 3, Walt? Anybody out there?”
I glanced at Rosey, but she hadn’t moved, so I plucked the mic from the dash and keyed it. “Roger that, Captain America. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
Static. Jim laughed. “Yes, it is. I just wanted to check in and see how you guys were doing.”
“We’re good. Rosey’s getting some air, and we’re just sitting here drinking coffee.”
Static. “She’s not there?”
“Nope.”
Static. “Good. Walt, like I said, this is it. If nothing happens tonight, you guys need to fold up the tents and head home.”
“Are you trying to get rid of us?”
Static. “No, but I also don’t want you wasting your time. If this all goes the way I think it is, I’m going to want Trooper Wayman in my office at eleven. Do you think you could tell her that?”
“Sure.”
Static. “I really appreciate you guys coming over and helping out with this, but I think it’s time we circled the wagons and took care of our own, you know what I mean?”
“We do.”
Static. “Well, if you guys have a minute, stop by the office on your way out, and I’ll buy you a bad cup of coffee.”
“Only if you promise not to glue our mugs down.”
Static. “Over and out of my mind.”
“Roger that.” I hung the mic back on the dash and turned to look at the Bear. “You were saying?”
“What happened in the tunnel?”
“You aren’t going to believe me.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the coin and handed it to him through the open slider of the grate that separated us. He stared at it for a moment and then back at me. “This one is marred.”
“Only because I happened to step on it and slip sideways, which, by the way, kept me from getting run over.”
He looked out the window. “It was in the road like the others?”
“Dead center, between the lines. I was running and hit the darn thing, and it may have saved my life.”
“Running?”
“Yep.” I glanced around to make sure Rosey hadn’t moved and, satisfied, I told him about seeing something in the north tunnel.
“A shape?”
“Yep, kneeling down where the silver dollar was.”
“Kneeling, so it was human?”
“I don’t know. . . . I think so. I mean, what else could it have been?”