Diablo Mesa(47)

29



NORA WOKE WITH a start. She’d been waiting up for Skip on the sofa in their sitting room reading a thriller, and she hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but the ridiculous story about the last living cyclops on earth hadn’t held her attention. She was instantly wide awake. She checked the time: 5 AM. Had Skip come in quietly? But Mitty would have barked a greeting.

She sprang from the sofa. Skip’s door was shut, and she knocked: no answer. She opened it to find Skip’s room empty, bed made.

“Shit!” she said aloud, mind racing. Skip had told her he wouldn’t be preparing dinner that evening because he and Bitan were going to spend the day trying to locate the watchtower. They had set off early. But Skip wasn’t back.

What about Bitan?

She shrugged out of her pajamas and dressed in haste, then flung open the front door. Bitan’s trailer was nearby, and she ran over and pounded on its door. No answer. Finding the door unlocked, she went inside. The place was a mess, bed unmade and no astronomer.

Now she went into full panic mode. Exiting Bitan’s trailer, she made a beeline for Tappan’s RV. Without even bothering to knock, she ran inside and pounded on Tappan’s bedroom door. Within moments he opened it, dressed only in underwear and a T-shirt.

“Back for round two?” he asked, his smile disappearing as he saw the expression on her face.

“Skip and Noam are missing,” she said breathlessly. “They went out on a hike yesterday and never came back.”

“Just a moment.” He pulled on some clothes and they went outside. Tappan cupped his hands and started crying loudly for everyone to get up, while Nora went around knocking on doors.

In five minutes, a bewildered, sleepy, and tousled group had assembled outside Tappan’s RV. Abruptly, the camp lights snapped on, bathing them all in a bright yellow glow.

“We have two missing members,” Tappan began—but suddenly stopped when a bark sounded from the darkness beyond. A moment later, Mitty flew into the light, barking loudly.

Nora called out: “Skip! Skip!”

An unintelligible cry came from the darkness.

“It’s him!” someone cried as a figure staggered into the circle of light: clothes torn and dusty, hair askew, face scraped, nose bloody.

Nora rushed over and grabbed him. “Skip! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” he cried. “I just slid off a ridge. Listen: Noam—Bitan—is missing.”

“You’re bleeding!” Nora said as Skip tried to disentangle himself from her.

“I’m telling you, it’s just a few scrapes. Please, let me talk!” His voice was hoarse.

Nora backed off.

“Could somebody bring me water?” he asked the group. “My throat’s all dry.”

As someone rushed off to fetch water, he continued. “We took a day trip to find the Spanish watchtower. And we found it. But we…we kept going down into the plains and the hills beyond. We separated and were supposed to meet back at a rendezvous point. He never showed. I waited for hours and then tried to come back here, but got lost, my phone went dead, I had a fall but I’m okay, just some scraped hands. Smacked my nose, too. I was hoping Mitty might go and get help, but he wouldn’t leave me. We’ve got to go find Bitan.”

All this came out in a breathless rush, and then Skip greedily took up a glass of water handed to him and drank it down. “More, please,” he said, passing it back as a bowl was brought for Mitty.

Tappan spoke. “Skip? I’m a little confused here.”

Skip glanced at him. Seeing the sudden guilty expression on her brother’s face, Nora’s heart sank.

“If your goal was the tower, why did you go so much farther? And why did you separate?” He paused. “I think there’s something you’re not telling us.”

A silence descended. Skip glanced at Nora, who—temporarily forgetting her concern for his well-being—glared back.

“I was sworn to secrecy,” Skip said at last.

“Now’s not the time to hold back,” Tappan said angrily. “For God’s sake, Noam could be hurt—even dying. You’ve got to tell us what you were doing.”

“Right. Okay.” Yet Skip still hesitated, looking at the assembled group one after the other, gingerly. “Noam has this theory…” He stopped again.

“Go on,” Tappan said.

Now Skip took a deep, shaky breath and let the words tumble out in a rush. “He’d decided this wasn’t the crash site after all. He called it a ‘skip site’ instead, where the UAP bounced after impact and went airborne again, crashing farther away. He figured the location was out on the Plains of Atalaya or the hills beyond. That’s what we were searching for—the real crash site.”

“And where exactly does he think this site is?” Tappan asked, voice edged with exasperation.

Skip reached into his backpack and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. “Here’s a map he drew. The area we were searching is outlined in red pencil.”

Tappan snatched it and stared. “What the hell were you two thinking, keeping this secret?”

“It was his secret. It wasn’t mine to betray.” Skip hung his head. “He said he wanted to find it himself. Then he would tell you.”