Part 4
The rumble passed beneath their feet and faded so quickly they might almost have imagined it. Catfish watched the slope for another few seconds, then stopped growling. Eli lowered the flashlight. “Close.”
Walter stood before the rusted plate, trying to recover the rest. Tunnel No. 4, Sawyer, the trailer beside the river. Someone had said to stay away after a deep freeze, but he couldn’t remember why.
“Uncle Walt.”
Walter started when Eli touched his shoulder.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Eli said.
“I haven’t seen any ghosts.”
Eli shone the light on the plate.
“Then what’s bothering you?”
Walter rubbed his mitten over the number. “I remember this one.”
“From the geologists?”
“Yes.”
Eli waited. Walter said nothing more.
“What happened with Number Four?”
Walter gave an irritated shrug. “That’s the part I don’t remember.”
His nephew considered pressing him, then let it go.
They followed the old clearing. About six hundred and fifty feet farther on, the slope came into view. It looked ordinary: stone, snow, scattered brush. Without a rusted piece of rail projecting from a drift, they might have walked past the entrance.
The tunnel was almost completely blocked. A massive shelf of rock overhung it, leaving a black opening a little more than three feet high beneath the debris. The snow outside was churned up.
Eli moved closer. “There.”
Walter had already seen Old Hump’s tracks. The bear had been here more than once. Deep scratches marked a rock beside the entrance. Below them was a dark stain.
Eli crouched. “Blood.”
Eli stood and brushed off his knees.
“There we go. He tried to get in, a rock came down, clipped his side, and scared him.”
Walter studied the black opening. It could explain the wound. It didn’t explain why the bear watched the whole hollow.
“You sure this collapse is old?”
Eli looked up. Some of the rocks lay on top of the snow, without frost on them.
“No.”
Walter nodded toward the slope.
“Why are the trees leaning?”
Eli followed the line of the woods with his eyes.
“The collapse made the slope shift.”
“The hollow ground?”
Eli hesitated.
“Could’ve settled, too.”
Walter didn’t answer.
“The vapor,” Eli added.
He shrugged.
“It’s a tunnel. Warmer inside.”
Walter looked past the entrance toward the hollow, then turned.
“All right,” Walter said. “Back we go.”
Eli looked surprised.
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want?”
Eli kept the flashlight on the black opening.
“Take a look inside.”
Walter faced him.
“What for?”
“We came all this way.”
Walter waited. Eli shrugged.
“At least see what’s in there.”
“A minute ago, you had it all figured out.”
Eli gave a small smile.
“True.”
He peered into the opening once more, then stepped away.
“All right. Let’s go.”
They had taken about ten steps when air struck their backs from the tunnel. It wasn’t wind. It was a short, heavy pulse, as though someone inside had slammed an enormous door.
Snow lifted near the entrance. Small rocks skittered across the crust. Eli spun around. “Did you—”
He didn’t finish. A deep, prolonged cracking came from inside. Several seconds later, water appeared beneath the rocks.
First one thin stream. Then another. Walter moved closer. Eli caught his sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“Let go.”
“Something else is going to come down.”
Walter stopped. Once, he would have brushed Eli off and told him he knew what he was doing. This time, he didn’t. He crouched where he stood and watched the water.
The water came from inside the mountain, giving off vapor as it ran over the frozen ground. Eli stood beside him.
“Where’s all that coming from?”
Walter studied the narrow streams.
“There’s water in there.”
“A lot?”
“Don’t know how much, or where it’s coming from.”
He opened the map. The pencil line followed the north slope and ended. If there had been tunnels, there ought to be other signs of the work. Eli looked across the white expanse between the rocks.
“After nearly fifty years?”
“Iron outlasts people.”
They worked around the eastern side of the slope. Half an hour later, they found the remains of an old road. Twenty minutes after that, they saw what remained of a roof.
An old exploration shack had almost disappeared into the snow. One wall leaned, and the window was broken. They had to work the door back and forth with their shoulders. Inside, it smelled of damp, mice, and rusted iron.
Eli swept the flashlight around. A bench, a collapsed table, a tin stove, several boxes. A shallow wall cabinet had survived, its metal door hanging crooked. Walter pulled the handle.
Inside lay a packet of heavy oiled paper, held down by a rusted plate. He carefully unfolded it on the table. Eli moved closer.
“Is that their—”
Lines crossed the diagram. Several tunnels entered the slope from different directions, with some connected to others. Natural cavities, a stream, and elevations were marked below.
“Four. Here.” Eli pointed.
Walter followed the lower line with a fingernail. “What’s this?”
Eli bent over the diagram. “Looks like an outlet.”
Walter estimated the distance. “A little over half a mile. Maybe farther.”
Eli was already folding the paper. “Then we’ve seen it. Let’s go.”
Walter didn’t move. Water was coming out of the mountain, the slope was moving, and the road downhill was blocked. He needed to know where the drainage led.
“What would you say if I wanted to check that lower outlet?”
Eli slowly straightened.
“I’d say you asked me to stop you when you started doing something foolish.”
“Right.”
Relief appeared on Eli’s face. Walter promptly took it away.
“We’ll check it, then go straight back.”
His nephew stared at him.
“Are you kidding me?”
Walter traced the crack in the gunstock.
“Wanted to make sure it was a bad idea.”
Eli gave a nervous smile, then grew serious.
“Why do it, then?”
Walter pointed to the diagram’s lower line. “If the water comes out there, we need to know where it goes next.”
Eli looked at the map again. That was harder to argue with.
They found the lower outlet farther down the hollow, almost beside the creek. An old metal drainage trough led them to it. There was no visible tunnel. Instead, a wall of ice stood before them.
At first, Eli couldn’t make sense of it.
“What is that?”
Walter moved closer. Ice filled the whole recess between the rocks. Cloudy, gray-green ice, with air bubbles and frozen branches inside. It rose well over their heads, and water seeped around its edges.
Walter aimed the flashlight along the stone beside it. Three faded red lines marked old water levels. The highest lay well below the fresh wet line on the rock. Eli saw it, too.
“That’s bad.”
Walter approached the wall and placed his palm against the cold stone beside it, without touching the ice. Behind the barrier, water made a low, continuous sound. Eli stopped tugging at his sleeve. “It’s backed up in there.”
Walter listened. “Looks that way.”
“How much?”
“Don’t know.”
Eli looked from the old marks to the wet line above them.
“What if the ice can’t hold it?”
He didn’t finish. Walter looked down the hollow toward the outpost. Beyond it stood the bridge. Farther downstream was the road crew’s temporary camp.
There were hardly any people there in summer. In winter, the crew used it to keep that stretch of road open. Eli understood at the same moment.
“The camp.”
Walter nodded. Eli took out his phone, though they both knew there was no service. He checked the screen and put it away. “The radio’s at the cabin.” “Yes.” “Then we’re going back…”
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