Long Road to Mercy (Atlee Pine, #1)(92)

“Tell him thanks for me.” Pine slid out her trekking poles. “Anything else?”

“A military chopper landed at the Canyon airport earlier today. Joe heard about it from one of the rangers.”

“Unusual activity.”

“You don’t seem surprised,” replied Yazzie.

“That’s because I’m not.”

“If you’re in some sort of trouble—”

“Let’s just say I’m off the grid right now. And people you thought should be your allies, aren’t.”

Yazzie looked deeply concerned by this comment. “Look, Atlee, I don’t know what’s going on, but if you can get cell reception down there, call us if you need help.”

“You’ve done enough, Jen.”

“You’ve been a real friend to the community and, well, we care about you.”

Pine had given Yazzie a hug. “I’ll see you soon,” she had said, hoping that it would indeed be true. Right now, she would not have bet on herself.

As Yazzie’s truck lights had disappeared into the dark, Pine had turned around, faced the trailhead, and set off.

Normally, those not seeking to go all the way to the Canyon floor would hike down the Kaibab, cross over to the west on the Tonto Trail to Indian Garden, and then head back up the Bright Angel to the South Rim. Because of the rule of thumb that an hour hiking down meant two hours hiking back up, Kaibab was a good choice for the descent phase. It had no shade and no potable water except at the trailhead. After the Tonto Trail and the turn onto Bright Angel, one could take a rest at the shady Indian Garden, drink some water, and continue the steep ascent back to the rim. There were also two additional rest houses on the way up.

Only shade wasn’t an issue right now, since it was nearly midnight. And Tonto Trail wasn’t an option, because Pine was going all the way down to the floor. She had picked this time of night because there might well be no other hikers. She had passed by no one so far going up or down. This included park rangers. That was good, because for all she knew, they had been instructed to detain her if they encountered her.

It was about seven miles on this trail to Bright Angel Campground near Phantom Ranch. The nearby Bright Angel Trail was more than nine miles down to the same destination. Yet because of the topography and other conditions, hikes down both trails would take between four and five hours.

Setting an ambitious pace, Pine intended to make it down in about three. Under other circumstances, she would not have attempted this sort of pace at night, since, like all trails going down into the Canyon, the Kaibab was full of switchbacks, narrow curves, and turns. And although well maintained, the Kaibab trail was hardly smooth. The last thing she wanted was to make a false step and go hurtling over the edge. But she knew the Kaibab well, and she was keeping to the inside of the trail. Hikers coming up had the right of way and she would have to move to the edge to let them pass, but, so far, it was just her.

Her collapsible trekking poles lightly touching the trail as she went, her headlamp brightly illuminating the area ahead, her long legs smoothly striding, she soon reached Cedar Ridge at the 1.5-mile marker. This was the strongly recommended turnaround point for day hikers, particularly in summer. Because every hike started with the descent first, it drew folks into a false sense of what they could accomplish. The hike out was always harder.

The temperature was under seventy right now, but she could still feel the sweat trickling down her back as she kept up her pace. She had a buff that she’d soaked in water around her neck. She’d heard rattles as snakes fled the vibration of her footfalls, and hooves striking dirt and rock as large mammals heard her approach and turned in the opposite direction. She accidentally stepped in mule dung once, left over from that day’s ride back up. She would meet no mules going down, because she would be off the trail before the mule train headed back up from Phantom in the morning. However, the pack mule train would head down around dawn. That would not be a problem for her, either. She’d be down at the inner gorge by then.

She ate as she went, balancing salty foods with taking small sips on her hydration line only to quench her thirst.

The temperature increased the farther down she ventured.

She passed the ominous-sounding Skeleton Point, having shed fourteen hundred feet of elevation since Ooh Aah. She stiffened a bit and slowed her punishing pace, as she heard footsteps approaching from the other way. The trail would really zig-zag now with a long series of switchbacks as it dropped her into the Tonto Plateau.

She had already passed the “tip-off phone,” which was a way to call rangers in case you were in trouble. There would not be another such line of communication on her way down.

Though it was far more prominent in the daylight, it had always intrigued Pine how the trail changed color as one went down. This was because the underlying rock changed. She had gone from red to a light brown.

A moment later twin headlamps appeared out of the darkness.

Two men.

Pine’s hand instinctively went to her Glock.

But the men, one younger and one older—perhaps father and son—passed by with a wave and matching weary smiles.

Their journey was almost over. Hers was just really beginning.

About three miles later, she reached a short tunnel cut into the stone and entered it. Her hand again went to her gun. This would be an ideal place for an ambush.