The Gorgon Field (7 page)

Tony walked toward him with the rifle in the crook of his arm.

“Put it down,” Charlie said softly.

“I’m going to shoot that goddamn eagle,” Tony said. His face was set in hard lines, his eyes narrowed. He took another step.

“No way,” Charlie said harshly. “My wife’s in there and I don’t want any bullets headed anywhere near those formations. Understand?” Tony took another step toward him.

Charlie raised the revolver, held it with both hands now. His voice was still soft, but it was not easy or lazy-sounding. “One more step with that gun and I’ll drop you. Put it down!”

He knew the instant that Tony recognized death staring at him, and the muscles in his neck relaxed, his stomach unclenched. Tony put the rifle down on the ground carefully and straightened up again.

“Over by your father,” Charlie said. He glanced at Don Carlos and Deborah; they were both transfixed, staring at the gorgons behind him. Tony had stopped, also staring. Deborah was the first to move; she sank to the ground by her father’s chair. His hand groped for her, came to rest on her head. He took a deep breath and the spell was over.

“It’s going to be dark very soon,” Charlie said, hating them all, hating this damn valley, the goddamn gorgons. “Until the moon comes up, I’m not going to be able to see a damn thing and what that means is that I’ll have to listen pretty hard. Tony, will you please join your father and sister? You’d better all try to make yourself as comfortable as you can, because I intend to shoot at any noise I hear of anyone moving around.”

Deborah made a choking noise. “Father, please, let’s go back to the house. Someone’s going to be killed out here!”

Tony began to walk slowly toward them. “You shouldn’t have interfered,” he said. He sounded very young, very frightened. “I would have ended it.”

“Tony, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought them here. I wish I’d never seen them, either of them.” Deborah was weeping, her face on her father’s knee, his hand on her head. “This isn’t what I wanted. Dear God, this isn’t what I wanted.”

Charlie sighed. He felt a lot of sympathy for Tony Wyandot, who had come face-to-face with something he could not handle, could not explain, could not buy or control. In Tony’s place, he would have done exactly the same thing: try to shoot it out of the sky, protect his property, his sister and father, his sister’s child. He would have brought the rifle, but he would have used it, and that made the difference. Don Carlos would have used it, too, if he had decided it was necessary. He had seen Tony take defeat before, with dignity, but this was not like that. He knew that no matter what else happened out here tonight, Tony would always remember that he had not fired the rifle.

Tony reached his father’s side and sat on the ground, with his knees drawn up, his arms around them. The crisis was over.

The light had long since faded, and with darkness there had come other changes. Constance did not so much think of the differences as feel them, experience and accept them. Her feet seemed far away, hardly attached to her, and her legs were leaden. Each step was an effort, like wading in too-deep water. The air had become dense, a pressure against her that made breathing laborious. She walked with one hand outstretched, not to feel her way, but almost as if she were trying to part the air before her. She saw herself falling forward and the thick air supporting her, wafting her as it might a feather, setting her down gently, an end of the journey, an end of the torture of trying to get enough air.

Señora.

I’m here, Ramón.

Si.

It is very hard, Ramón. I’m very tired.

Si. But you must not stop now.

I know.

Another step. It was agony to lift her foot, to find her foot and make it move. Agony to draw in enough air and then expel it. And again. She was becoming too heavy to move. Too heavy. Stonelike.

“I have to stand up,” Don Carlos said. “I’m getting too stiff.”

“Do you want to go to the car?” Charlie asked. “You could turn on the heater.” They could have turned on the lights, he thought, knowing that even if it had occurred to him earlier, he would not have done it.

“No, no. I just want to stand for a minute and then wrap up in the blanket.”

“Father,” Tony said then, “let me take you back to the house. Keeping vigil in the cold can’t be good for you.”

“I’m all right,” his father said gruffly. “It won’t be much longer, I’m sure.”

“Father,” Tony said after a moment, “don’t you see how they’re manipulating you? Ramón obviously offered Meiklejohn and his wife more than Deborah agreed to pay them. This isn’t going to prove anything, freezing our butts off out here in the cold. Meiklejohn,” he said in a louder voice, “I’m going to the car for a flashlight. I intend to go haul your wife out of there and be done with this.” There was the sound of shoes scraping rocks.

Charlie sighed. “Tony, knock it off, will you?” he said wearily. “You know I won’t let you do that or anything else.”

“Sit down, Tony,” his father said. It was a father-to-son command, a voice that expected to be obeyed.

Silence hung over them all. “Whatever you say,” Tony finally agreed. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie loosened his grip on his revolver. Tony was vacillating from the kid who had had his universe shaken to the middle-aged man who could not allow himself to embrace a new belief system, and it obviously was a painful jolt with each switch. He had tried to destroy it and failed; now he had to work even harder to deny it. Charlie couldn’t stop feeling that Tony was more in the right than his father. So Constance and Ramón would stroll out eventually, and what the hell would that prove? He scowled into the darkness. Meanwhile, he intended to preserve order in the cosmos.

There were more stars every time he looked up, as if veil after veil were being removed; he never had known there were so many of them. The moon hung over the house, fattening up nicely night after night. And what if she didn’t come back? He checked the thought, but there it was, fully formed, articulated in spite of his efforts to suppress it.

What if she found something after all? Something so wonderful that she couldn’t turn her back on it. What if the power she was looking for turned out to be malevolent? He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at the moon again, trying to make the jagged edge turn into mountains instead of badly torn paper.

She had not completed a movement for a very long time. She had started another step, but it seemed not to end, no matter how she struggled. And now she could hardly breathe and the lack of air made her head feel as distant as her feet and hands, and everywhere in her body there was pain, more pain than she had known she could endure.

Will she die?

I do not know.

She didn’t know how hard it would be.

One never knows that.

But you did it.

Si. Over a long period of time. Each time, the way one has gone before is easier.

You took the photographs of the gorgons, didn’t you?

Si. And I told Manuel to make certain you saw them.

Twenty-eight pillars. A lunar month. This is very holy, isn’t it?

Most holy.

And one must start at sunset and arrive in moonlight. Is that right?

That is correct.

She’s taking another step. Actually, she hasn’t really stopped yet. But it’s so slow and so hard.

She forced her leg to move again. Another step. Each step now was a victory in slow motion. So much resistance to overcome. Again she saw herself falling, floating down, down, and she yearned to rest in the heavy air, not to move, not to hurt. Another step. The chanting was in her bones; she wanted to chant, too, but she had no breath. The image of herself letting go, falling, was becoming more real each time it came back. It would be so good, so good to let go, to let the heavy air float her to the ground, where she could rest.

“What on earth will he do with the valley?” Deborah asked. “Not a resort or anything like that. But what?”

“He’ll start a school,” Don Carlos said. He sounded faint, his voice quavering a bit.

Charlie thought of Ramón teaching kids how to walk among the gorgons. His hands clenched hard and he consciously opened them again, flexed his fingers.

“What difference does it make?” Tony demanded. “Let him do what he wants with the rotten valley. I sure don’t intend to spend any time here ever again.”

Charlie nodded. The denial was complete. Tony had saved his soul the only way he could. Everyone was clearly visible now that the moon was almost directly overhead and brilliant. The dimensions kept changing with the changing light, he thought. Right now, the valley looked as wide as a plain, and the house close enough to touch. His eyes were playing tricks. He had slept so little the night before, and the altitude was strange.

For nearly an hour now, he had been fighting the idea that she really would not come back, that when it became daylight he would have to go in after her, and he would find her huddled at the base of one of those pillars. Twice he had started to go in, and each time he had forced himself to stop, to wait. He got up and stretched and started to walk toward the meadow; anything was better than sitting on the rock much longer.

When I was a little girl, I was so certain that if I could be Beauty, I’d recognize the nobility of the Beast with no trouble at all. How I wanted to be Beauty.

I am sure you recognize evil very well.

Not as well as I should. Is this an evil thing, Ramón? To let her walk the path in ignorance, is that evil?

You are not ignorant.

But I’m here and she’s there alone.

That is your choice.

No. I can be one or the other.

There is no other, only the one.

Now she knew she had to stop; she could not go on. She shuddered. She put out both hands so that they would break her fall. And she heard her own voice very clearly, “Another step, Constance. One more. Come on!”

One more. Suddenly, she was dazzled by silvery light. It struck her in the face like a physical substance and she could see out over the valley in all directions. She laughed.

At the hitching post, Charlie turned and came to a dead stop; even his heart stopped. In the center of the formations, on top the highest of the gorgons, were two figures, Constance and Ramón, shining in the moonlight. He felt the world swim out from under him and caught the post for support, closed his eyes very hard. When he opened them again, the figures were gone. He raced back toward the gorgons. When he got there, Ramón was emerging, carrying Constance.

Gently, he transferred her to Charlie’s arms. Charlie watched him walk to Don Carlos and lean over him. It was very clear in the moonlight. After a moment, Don Carlos stood up.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he whispered, and his voice carried as if he was shouting. “I made no demands, asked for nothing.”

“It is given,” Ramón said. “Now we must get the señora to the house and to bed.”

“Is she going to be all right?” Don Carlos asked.

“
Si
. She is suffering from shock right now.”

And Don Carlos moved without his cane, Charlie realized. Constance stirred and pressed her face against his chest She sighed a long, plaintive breath.

Are you sure, señora? You don’t have to go back now. You can stay here.

Oh no! I give it all to you, Ramón. I don’t want it. I told Charlie I’d come back. That’s what I want.

You can never give it all away, señora. Some of the power will cling to you forever. Some day perhaps you will come home again.

She took another deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of Charlie’s body, and she let herself go, let herself fall into the sleep she yearned for. Charlie walked to the car with her in his arms, almost blinded by tears he could not explain or stop.