Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [100]
I reach the top of the hill where the vantage point affords me a view of the wide-open space between us and the distant mountain range, plateaus giving the red landscape texture. It’s beautiful, and my mind starts to traipse down an old, well-trod path. I imagine all the artifacts these mountains might hold. Nothing can compare to the exhilaration I feel when unearthing something that has avoided detection for thousands of years. I have to admit that, regardless of what’s happened over the last two weeks—the horrible things I’ve witnessed, as well as those I’ve done myself—the rush of discovery is what has kept me on course. More than anything, I want to find these bones—to hold them in my hands, to see if they’re worth the price I and others have paid. There might also be something akin to a fledgling belief, although giving that any serious thought makes me uncomfortable and forces me down a path I refuse to travel at this point in my life. Religion, God, the metaphysical—I haven’t had much use for these things for a long time, not since KV65. What was it Reese said? “The power of God does not fade over time.” I grunt. That may be true, but I can still ignore it. And isn’t ignored power the same as impotence?
I sigh and turn back toward the truck, my knee feeling somewhat better as I descend. The case of bottled water is in the truck bed, and I cut the plastic holding the bottles together with a pocketknife and then pull one free. I think about the soup but my stomach seems to rebel against the idea. I wish I’d thought to steal something more suitable for breakfast.
The passenger door opens and Espy joins me in the great outdoors. This time she does a full-body stretch and yawn, and I’m amazed at how good she looks after jumping out a window, enduring an explosion, robbing a store, and only getting a few hours of sleep. I must look like death; I certainly feel like it. Hands on hips, she takes in the forbidding view.
“Nice place.”
“God’s playground.”
She walks to the back of the truck, lowers the tailgate and sits, reaching back to grab a bottle of water.
“Care to tell me where we’re going? And I’m warning you, if you tell me you don’t know, I’ll hurt you more than I did back in Caracas.”
I wince in remembered pain. Fortunately, I’m not without an answer to her question. The problem is that I’m not sure my response won’t bring about the same beating that indecision would.
“We’re going to the Manheim estate.”
“Excuse me?” Esperanza’s eyes darken.
“It’s the last place they’d expect us to show up.”
“Because they wouldn’t think even you would be that idiotic.”
“They’d certainly be wrong about that.” I understand her feelings because it took a while to convince myself that going to face the beast is the most logical course of action. “We’re off the grid right now, and I intend to use it to our advantage. Up to this point, we’ve been operating under a microscope, and I think it’s time for us to do something unexpected.”
“Getting ourselves killed would qualify.” She almost spits the words. She’s on the verge of slipping into Spanish, a good indicator of the level of her anger.
“I don’t think so,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “If I were Manheim, I would be watching the airports.