The Quest

Gann reminded him, “We can’t go due any direction, old boy.” He pointed out, “This is not the desert or the tundra.” He reminded Mercado, “We’re in the bush, you know.”

Mercado insisted, “We have passed the point of no return in regards to food.”

“Not quite yet. But we’re close.”

“This is how people die.”

“Well,” Gann agreed, “that is one way. There are others.” He belatedly asked Mercado, “How are you feeling, old boy?”

Mercado hesitated, then said, “I can make it back to Shoan.”

“Good.” Gann also said, “We must be careful not to get injured or ill.”

Purcell agreed, “Let’s try not to do that.” He asked Vivian, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right.”

Purcell looked into the dark, triple-canopy jungle. “Let’s get off the trail and walk between the trees.” He took a compass heading to the south.

They left the trail, and headed south through the rain forest. The terrain had looked deceptively open between the trees, but as they traveled it, it became clear that they had to cut brush and vines, and the carpet of undergrowth, that had looked low, was actually knee-high in most places.

After about an hour, they realized they weren’t making good progress, and they also realized that by leaving the trail, they’d effectively lost it, and also lost any trail in the trackless expanse. It was like walking through a great columned building, Purcell thought, with a green-vaulted ceiling and a carpet of wait-a-minute vines. Rays of sunlight penetrated the triple canopy in places, and they found themselves unconsciously walking toward the spots of sun-dappled ground cover.

The darkness was getting deeper, and the sun was no longer penetrating into the forest. It was jungle dusk, and they began looking for a place to stop for the night.

Vivian said, “Look. A cluster of palms.”

They looked to where she was pointing to the west and they saw the distinctive trunks of palms, with their fronds buried in the surrounding growth.

They made their way to the palms, where the ground was more clear, and they sat with their backs to the palm trunks.

Gann looked up and said, “Doesn’t seem to be anything edible up there.”

Purcell handed him a cloth bag. “Have a date.”

They drank the last of their water and took stock of their food, which they estimated would last one more day.

Gann and Purcell looked at the map and they both agreed they were between twenty and thirty kilometers west of the road, though they couldn’t determine if they were north or south of Shoan. And Shoan was another thirty kilometers east of the road.

Gann said, “We are a long day’s march to Shoan.” He added, “Unless we run into rough country.”

Purcell said, “That was encouraging until ‘unless.’ ”

They all agreed they’d head back to Shoan in the morning.

Vivian stood and said, “Be right back.”

Everyone assumed she’d gone off to relieve herself, but she kept walking, and Purcell was concerned that she was becoming delirious and had seen another mirage. He couldn’t call out to her because they needed to be quiet, so he stood and caught up with her.

“Where are you going?”

“I saw a glint.”

“Really?”

“Right over here.”

He let her lead him farther into the tight undergrowth.

The ground was rising, he noticed, and he recalled the high, rocky ground he’d seen when he flew over this area, returning from Gondar.

The undergrowth began to thin, and he felt rocks beneath his feet.

He was looking where he stepped, and also looking left and right to be sure no one was there, and Vivian was ahead of him again. He drew his pistol from his cargo pocket and stuck it in his belt.

Vivian stopped and said, “There is the rock.”

He caught up to her and looked west into the setting sun. Spread out to their front was a deep depression in the ground that covered acres of land. There were a few trees growing in the sunken ground, but it was mostly open. In the deep, wide depression grew brush, crawling vines, and tropical flowers, but he could also see acres of black rock coming through the ground growth. An old stone quarry.

Vivian pointed, “The rock.”

On the far side of the abandoned quarry, about a hundred yards away, was a great black monolith-a quarried slab of rock, about twenty feet high and ten feet wide, that had been shaped by human hands, but never transported from here. The late afternoon sun highlighted the black luster on its top edge. Purcell didn’t understand how Vivian could have seen it from where they were sitting.

He heard a noise behind him, pushed Vivian down, drew his revolver, and knelt facing the sound.

Gann and Mercado came up the rise and saw them.

Gann said, “There you are. Don’t shoot, old boy. We’re still friends.”

Purcell put the revolver in his cargo pocket and waved them up the slope.

Gann asked, “What have you found?”

“A quarry.”

Vivian said, “We have found Father Armano’s rock.” She pointed.

Mercado and Gann looked across the quarry and Gann said, “Yes, a quarry. Good scouting.”

Mercado was staring at the black monolith on the far edge of the rock quarry. He looked at Vivian and asked, “How do you know?”