Colorado has 54 peaks over 14,000 feet,” said Treen breathing heavily after climbing a steep hill. “Hopefully that lab isn’t at the top of one of them.”
“Man, we been hikin’ three hours straight,” said Russell, sitting on a montage of multihued leaves, his back against an aspen trunk.
“Too bad we’re not out here on vacation,” said Ariel, admiring layers of mountains and a collage of gold, rusty red foothills. “This is my kind of country.”
“Y’all ain’t gonna believe this,” said Sheridon, squatting next to Russell, “But I’m a leafer.”
“Really?” said Treen, with a huge smile.
“Me too.”
Russell’s mouth dropped open.
“So you guys are druggies?” Everyone laughed.
“No Russ, they’re not druggies,” said Ariel. “A leafer is someone who travels around the state to look at the colorful fall foliage like you see in front of us.”
“Oh.”
“As beautiful as it is, those black clouds in the distance are trouble. There’s a rainstorm headed this way,” said Treen.
“How can you tell?” Them clouds could go in any direction,” said Russell.
“Close your eyes.”
“Okay their closed.”
“What do see?”
“Nothin”
“What do you smell?”
“Kinda smells like the Mallyview River, but there’s no water near us — yet.“ When he opened his eyes, Treen had walked away. After another hour of strenuous hiking, the storm rolled in. The strong wind blew pebbly rain and earthy debris in every direction. They struggled uphill, grabbing trunks and branches to pull through the gust until they’d trudged to the top.
“Over there!” Ariel shouted. He splashed towards a cave, stopping near the dark entry to take the flashlight from his pack. As the others sprinted through the mud towards him, he turned on the light and ducked inside.
Treen ran up next. After she’d stepped into the cave, she paused near the opening to wait for Russell and Sheridon, who spattered up shortly after. Treen pulled off her headband then dropped to the damp, stony surface, along with the others, soaked and out of breath. Ariel must’ve moved deeper into the cave.
Although the entrance was small, the uneven rock above them rose high enough for Treen and Russell to stand. Big Sheridon? Well, he had to crouch slightly.
However, what had happened to Ariel? He’d ventured around the curved wall and hadn’t made a sound since.
“I don’t even see the glare from his flashlight,” said Treen, peering down into the blackness.
“I can’t see nothin’ either but I’m goin’ to look for him,” said Sheridon.
“We’re going with you”, said Treen. We’ll move slowly and stick together.”
Sheridon led them into the darkness, guiding his fingers alongside the jagged wall. Treen had latched to his belt and held Russell’s hand as he walked behind her.
Nevertheless, the cautious steps that Sheridon had taken didn’t prevent him from stumbling over an object in his path. Since Treen didn’t let go of him or Russell, they fell together and wound up like pretzels twisted in the darkness.
“Damn,” said Sheridon.”
“Wait a minute. There’s something poking my leg,” said Treen. Sheridon chuckled. “You better find out where Russ is.”
“I’m right behind you Treen.”
“Then this better be a flashlight,” she said, grabbing the cylinder shaped object. She felt for the switch, moved it forward, then lit up the area.
Unfortunately, the light belonged to Ariel who they still couldn’t see, even as Treen shined the beam up ahead of them.
“I don’t understand how he could disappear without us hearing anything,” said Treen.
“Maybe this leads to the lab and them robots got him,” said Russell.
“This stinky cave ain’t fit for a bear — not even that mechanical one we got rid of,” said Sheridon.
“We may not find the laboratory in here, but we will find other people,” said Treen.
“Why you say that?” asked Sheridon.
Treen pointed the flashlight down to the surface. “Look at the different footprints. I don’t know which are Ariel’s, but I do know he only has two feet.”
The light allowed them to move faster through the curvy cave, but it also exposed a pathway of trash: Soda and beer cans, filthy garments, animal bones, plus an array of wrappers and empty tuna cans lay strewn about.
“Some Grevelton bums must be livin’ up in here,” said Sheridon, holding his nose, as the stench grew worse.
“Look up there,” Treen whispered, lowering the light. “It looks like a campfire. Judging from the shadows, there are three people sitting around it.”
“Looks like one of em’s getting up, Russell added.
The shadowy figure took a few steps closer and stopped. Whoever it was had obviously heard them.
“Yoo-hoo! I hear you over there,” the man squealed. “You might as well come on out ‘cause we got your friend over here.”
“With a voice like that, he can’t be too dangerous,” said Sheridon.
“Now don’t try nothin’ funny, I got a pistol over here!”
“That changes things a little,” said Sheridon.
“We don’t have much choice but to go over there and find out what he wants. Let’s go,” said Treen.
They moved towards the fire. The giggling man ordered Treen to quit shining the flashlight in his eyes, then told her to turn it off. As they moved into the large area, the refreshing breeze that flowed through the cave had long disappeared. Unfortunately, it’d been replaced by a thick, unpleasant odor so indescribable that it most likely developed from a combination of filth.
Although the other stranger held Ariel at knifepoint, Treen was relieved to see that her friend was all right. He sat in front of the fire, the contents of his backpack dumped out amongst the trash.
The men had captured Ariel right in the middle of their lunch; a skinned, half cooked rabbit, hung over the fire; another dead rabbit lay nearby but hadn’t been prepared for cooking. It appeared that these scruffy, smelly men had been occupants of the cave for some time.
“Sit down,” said the man with the gun. “What do you want from us?” asked Treen.
“The questions come outta my mouth sugar, now sit your butt down. Your longhaired friend, Ariel, won’t say what you’re doin’ here, so one of you’s better tell me somthin’.”
“Who you callin’ long haired?” said Sheridon, “Look at you two Bigfoot-lookin’ bums.
“We got a wise guy in our cave,” said the man holding Ariel. Then, as he stared at Sheridon, he gradually stood.
“Hold on here,” he said moving closer, “I know you.”
“Where from?” asked Sheridon.
“You the King of the streets from Grevelton ain’t cha?”
Relieved, Russell exhaled. “It’s all good, Sheridon, that dude knows you.”
“The King of the Streets, is a nosey sack of pigeon puke,” grumbled the man, who’d moved even closer to Sheridon’s face.
“That’s interesting,” said Treen. “I didn’t smell pigeon puke until I came back here.”
Sheridon grinned. He tried to remember who the men were, but couldn’t. Then, the man raised the large hunting knife to Sheridon’s face.
“Still tryin’ to remember? Well let me help ya. My brother and me was tryin’ to borrow a hotel cash register when you beat us up and called the cops. But see, we got away. Now we do as we please.
“Then why are you hiding here?”
“You got a big mouth, little girl,” said the pistol wielding stranger. Maybe we like it here.”
Normally, Sheridon didn’t forget a face — especially someone he’d busted. The thick beards and long hair that the men sported had thrown him off. However, slowly, he began to remember...
“The goofy Rondo brothers?” said Sheridon, looking back and forth at them, as if watching a tennis ball. “Y’all couldn’t commit a crime if you was the last people on earth. By the way, you stole that register — and it had cash in it.”
“That don’t matter now. You don’t seem to get what it means to be a Rondo brother.”
“A Rondo is an instrumental composition typically with a refrain recurring four times in the tonic, with couplets in contrasting keys — ”
“Shut up, girl!” the gun-toting Rondo shouted. “Were big time gangsters now and you gonna help us get back to Grevelton.”
“How?” Sheridon asked.
“A police helicopter been up