‘Well, we’ve gone up the canyon we descended, but we must have taken a different fork, because we’ve run into a box canyon.’
Eileen shivered in her warm suit. Each canyon system lay like a lightning bolt on the tilted land, a pattern of ever-branching forks and tributaries; in the storm’s gloom it would be very easy to get lost; and they still hadn’t heard from John.
‘Well, drop back to the last fork and try the next one to the south. As I recall, you’re over in the next canyon north of us.’
‘Right,’ Doran said. ‘We’ll try that.’
The four who had been farther down the main canyon appeared now like ghosts in mist. ‘Here we are,’ Ivan said with satisfaction.
‘Nobleton! John! Do you read me?’
No answer.
‘He must be off a ways,’ Roger said. He approached the waggon. ‘Help me pull this up the slope.’
‘Why?’ Dr Mitsumu asked.
‘We’re setting the tent up there. Sleep on an angle tonight, you bet.’
‘But why up there?’ Dr Mitsumu persisted. ‘Couldn’t we set up the tent here in the wash?’
‘It’s the old arroyo problem,’ Roger replied absently. ‘If the storm keeps up the canyon could start spilling sand as if it were water. We don’t want to be buried.’
They pulled it up the slope with little difficulty, and secured it with chock rocks under the wheels. Roger set up the tent mostly by himself, working too quickly for the others to help.
‘Okay, you four get inside and get everything going. Eileen –’
‘Roger?’ It was Doran.
‘Yes.’
‘We’re still having trouble finding the main canyon.’
‘We thought we were in it,’ Cheryl said, ‘but when we descended we came to a big drop-off!’
‘Okay. Hold on a minute where you are. Eileen, I want you to come up the main canyon with me and serve as a radio relay. You’ll stay right in the wash, so you’ll be able to walk right back down to the tent if we get separated.’
‘Sure,’ Eileen said. The others were carefully rolling the waggon into the lock. Roger paused to oversee that operation, and then he gestured at Eileen through the tawny murk and took off upcanyon. Eileen followed.
They made rapid time. On band 33 Eileen heard the guide say, in an unworried conversational tone, ‘I hate it when this happens.’ It was as if he were referring to a shoelace breaking.
‘I bet you do!’ Eileen replied. ‘How are we going to find John?’
‘Go high. Always go high when lost. I believe I told John that with the rest of you.’
‘Yes.’ Eileen had forgotten, however, and she wondered if John had too.
‘Even if he’s forgotten,’ Roger said, ‘when we get high enough, the radios will be less obstructed and we’ll be able to talk to him. Or at the worst, we can bounce our signals off a satellite and back down. But I doubt we’ll have to do that. Hey Doran!’ he said over the common band.
‘Yeah?’ Doran sounded very worried.
‘What can you see now?’
‘Um – we’re on a spine – it’s all we can see. The canyon to the right –’
‘South?’
‘Yeah, the south, is the one we were in. We thought the one here to the north would be the main one, but it’s too little, and there’s a drop-off in it.’
‘Okay, well, my APS has you still north of us, so cross back to the opposite spine and we’ll talk from there. Can you do that?’
‘Sure,’ Doran said, affronted. ‘It’ll take a while, maybe.’
‘That’s all right, take your time.’ The lack of concern in Roger’s voice was almost catching, but Eileen felt that John was in danger; the suits would keep one alive for forty-eight hours at least, but these sandstorms often lasted a week, or more.
‘Let’s keep moving up,’ Roger said on band 33. ‘I don’t think we have to worry about those two.’
They climbed up the canyon floor, which rose at an average angle of about thirty degrees. Eileen noticed all the dust sliding loosely downhill, sand grains rolling, dust wafting down; sometimes she couldn’t see her feet, or make out the ground, so that she had to step by feeling.
‘How are you doing back in camp?’ Roger asked on the common band.
‘Just fine,’ Dr Mitsumu answered. ‘It’s on too much of a tilt to stand, so we’re just sitting around and listening to the developments up there.’
‘Still in your suits?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. One of you stay suited for sure.’
‘Whatever you say.’
Roger stopped where the main canyon was joined by two large tributary canyons, branching in each direction. ‘Watch out, I’m going to turn up the volume on the radio,’ he warned Eileen and the others. She adjusted the controls on her wrist.
‘JOHN! Hey, John! Oh, Jo-uhnnn! Come in, John! Respond on common band. Please.’
The radio’s static sounded like the hiss of flying sand grains. Nothing within it but crackling.
‘Hmm,’ Roger said in Eileen’s left ear.
‘Hey Roger!’
‘Cheryl! How are you doing?’
‘Well, we’re in what we think is the main canyon, but … ’
Doran continued, embarrassed: ‘We really can’t be sure, now. Everything looks the same.’
‘You’re telling me,’ Roger replied. Eileen watched him bend over and, apparently, inspect his feet. He moved around some in this jack-knifed position. ‘Try going to the wash at the lowest point in the canyon you’re in.’
‘We’re there.’
‘Okay, lean down and see if you find any bootprints. Make sure they aren’t yours. They’ll be faint by now, but Eileen and I just went upcanyon, so there should still be –’
‘Hey! Here’s some,’ Cheryl said.
‘Where?’ said Doran.
‘Over here, look.’
Radio hiss.
‘Yeah, Roger, we’ve found some going upcanyon and down.’
‘Good. Now start downcanyon. Dr M., are you still in your suit?’
‘Just as you said, Roger.’
‘Good. Why don’t you get out of the tent and go down to the wash. Keep your bearing, count your steps and all. Wait for Cheryl and Doran. That way they’ll be able to find the tent as they come down.’
‘Sounds good.’
After some chatter: ‘You all down there switch to band 5 to talk on, and just listen to common. We need to hear up here.’ Then on band 33: ‘Let’s go up some more. I believe I remember a gendarme on the ridge up here with a good vantage.’
‘Fine. Where do you think he could be?’
‘You got me.’
When Roger located the outcropping he had in mind, they called again, and again got no response. Eileen then installed herself on top of the rocky knob on the ridge: an eerie place with