Epilogue 2

I noticed immediately that the roof surfaces were now covered by solar panels. I suspected that, in his own style, Mr Kafkasian had already thanked the Calhouns for helping to save his daughter.

“Where should I park?” asked Jo.

“I don’t think it matters providing you don’t block any building entrances,” I replied. “You could always ask the Calhouns. If you’re really worried, you could leave them your keys.”

“They’re not driving my baby!”

I was surprised at Jo’s vehemence, but she did seem to have become very attached to her quirky little vehicle.

Jo parked close to the side of a barn, “Just in case we need the Air Ambulance again.”

If I hadn’t been able to sense her feelings, I might have thought she was joking.

As soon as we got out of the jeep we heard barking. A familiar large black and white dog appeared from behind a shed and ran towards us. Somewhat nervously, Jo positioned herself slightly behind me. The dog reached me and skidded to a halt.

“Hello Dolly,” I said, caressing her head.

Dolly immediately rolled onto her back and I obliged by rubbing her tummy. “Dolly, this is my very special friend Jo,” I told her. “I’d like her to be your friend too.”

Dolly huffed at me almost as though she understood. Jo crouched down and joined in petting the animal.

“Ain’t much of a guard dog, is she!” said Mr Calhoun, arriving on the scene.

“I think you might be surprised,” I replied. “She might be a real momma bear if anyone threatened her family.”

“Yup, reckon you’re right.”

I stood up and offered my hand. There was no reluctance to shake it.

“I believe you’ve already met Joanna Kafkasian,” I said, “although you may not recognise her with her clothes on.”

Jo’s family hadn’t even realised she’d been naked when I rescued her until her discharge from the city hospital, when Mrs Kafkasian had thought to ask for the clothes Jo had been wearing when admitted.

Mr Calhoun and Jo both blushed, and Jo also faux-punched my arm. “We came up here to say thank you for saving our lives,” she said, also shaking hands with the hill farmer.

“This young man here did the hard part,” said Mr Calhoun. “Besides, your pa done right by me.” He gestured to the solar panels on the roofs. “And that ain’t all. Further up the hill there’s a ravine we call Windy Gulch. It’s on my property but ain’t never found a use for it because it’s like a wind tunnel. Your pa put a couple of wind turbines up there. You wouldn’t even notice them unless you knew where to look. We’ll have electricity all the time without using our generator even in the middle of winter. Got so much of the damn stuff we hardly know what to do with it all. Trouble is, the missus got herself all these fancy notions. Got herself a freezer, a washing machine and a dishwasher now.”

As if conjured up by mention of her name, Mrs Calhoun appeared at the ranch door. “Calhoun, you old fool, where’s your manners. Quit your jabbering and invite those fine youngsters in.”

Jo collected a basket from the jeep. “We brought these as a ‘thank you’”, she said as she handed the basket to Mrs Calhoun.

We’d thought long and hard about taking a present with us. We wanted it to be something they’d enjoy but not too ostentatious. Jo was the one to come up with the idea we went with. We were pretty sure the Calhouns were largely self-sufficient in fruit and vegetables but it was probably boring, being limited to what would grow on the mountain. So we put together a basket of non-local fruit that we reckoned the Calhouns would readily recognise and enjoy, including oranges, grapefruit, bananas, pineapples, mangos, lemons and limes.

“Why, thank you,” said Mrs Calhoun. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Mrs Calhoun disappeared indoors with the basket of fruit, being replaced by Jay Calhoun, whose head had now apparently recovered from Jaymon Solassie’s beating because it was no longer wrapped in a bandage.

“Hi,” said Jay.

“Hi,” Jo and I replied.

With his attitude towards homosexuals, Jay and I would never be friends, especially after what he’d done to Eugenie Butler-Walker’s artwork, but I had to respect the role he’d played in saving Jo. He’d told me where he’d seen the witch even though it got him into trouble with his pa, and he’d realised that the seriousness of Joanna’s condition required an Air Ambulance. There was a sort of cautious courtesy between us and we even acknowledged each other at school on the rare occasions we met. However, I swore to myself that if he ever started tormenting Cheryl and Melinda for being lesbians, I’d do my best to rain hell down on him.

My former locker door, with Eugenie’s rainbows painted on it, was now on display in a swanky art gallery in New York, having won first prize in the prestigious nationwide art competition into which Mrs Crocker had entered it. Apparently the dancing rainbows design appealed to traditionalists, the rainbow double helix appealed to LGBT activists, and the ignoble canvas of a careworn school locker door appealed to modernists.

The judges were put out to discover that the winner was a mere schoolgirl, but the work had already attracted a megabucks bid from a wealthy collector. There were issues over ownership. The school probably owned the locker door but who owned the artwork? I had a claim, having paid my five dollars to Mrs Crocker, but it would be a travesty if Eugenie were to end up empty-handed. I had no idea how that would be resolved. Nevertheless, Eugenie Butler-Walker’s name was now out there, and I hoped the cute, cuddly girl I’d shared such a passionate kiss with wouldn’t be changed by her success.

“So you’re going back to The Stacks?” Jay asked.

“I know the authorities say there’s nothing there but we have to see for ourselves. And Jo wants to see the route I carried her. Do you want to come with us?” I asked, crossing my fingers.

“Hell no,” said Jay. “After everything that’s happened there, I’m keeping the hell away from that place. You know the way.”

My crossed fingers had worked. “Thanks for letting us park at your place.”

“That’s okay, you’re not in the way.”

It was clear Jay wasn’t going to invite us inside, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in even if we were invited.

“We’d better get going then,” I said. “We’ll stop by on our way back to let you know we’re safe.”

That was dumb: the disappearance of Jo’s jeep would indicate we’d made it back safely. But Jay just waved dismissively at us, then joined his mother indoors.

“Warm welcome,” muttered Jo when we were out of earshot.

“You can imagine the welcome I got when they thought I was gay. I thought Mr Calhoun was going to shoot me.”

We walked in silence, concentrating on our footing on the uneven animal track path, until Jo pointed back towards Mountview. “The views are spectacular, aren’t they!” she said. “And just look at the wildlife. I’m surprised more people don’t come up here.”

I hadn’t noticed any rabbits grazing in the meadows or any birds gliding in the warm updrafts the last time I had been here, but it was inspiring to see them this time.

After about half a mile we reached the CDC warning signs. The quarantine zone was still in operation. I wondered whether an inter-agency conflict had ensued when the police had come across them. I was pretty sure the FBI hadn’t shared the theory that the wildlife deaths were probably caused by witchcraft.

“We’re about halfway there,” I told Jo.

Soon after we had passed the CDC warning signs, I started to feel uneasy.

“You can feel that too, can’t you?” I asked Jo.

She nodded. “I think it’s a defensive measure protecting the cave,” she said, “but it’s not intended against us.”

“I didn’t feel anything like it last time I was here,” I said.

“Perhaps it died with the witch, but I reactivated it when I wished the police and Mountain Rescue had never found the cave.”

By the time we reached the sharp curve on the mountainside I could sense quite a strong feeling of dread permeating, but thanks to Jo’s explanation I had it tamped down to a strong unease. I was yet again awed by the suddenness of encountering the sight of the massive cliff face. There was no sign of any crime scene tape. The authorities must have removed it when they couldn’t find the cave again.

“This is The Stacks,” I said, stopping to let Jo drink in the sight.

“I’m VERY glad we don’t have to climb that cliff,” said Jo. “I can’t see a cave, even though I can sense it, so perhaps the authorities were right.”

“The cave was virtually slap-bang in the middle of the cliff face. I didn’t see it the first time until I was virtually on top of it.”

“Then let’s check it out.”

I led the way along the track following the base of the cliff, which the rampant berry bushes seemed to avoid. I didn’t know which outcome I wanted more: to find the cave again or not. About halfway along the bottom of the cliff face I stopped.

“This is where the cave was,” I said, confidently indicating the appropriate position on the cliff face. There was much evidence of trampled vegetation and small heaps of rubble from holes having being drilled into the cliff face, but no cave.

“I can feel it,” said Jo. “You said there was some sort of optical illusion protecting the side cave, didn’t you?”

“Yes, it seemed like I was passing through solid rock.”

“I want to try something,” said Jo. “Take my hand.”

I was always glad of a reason to hold Jo’s hand. She stepped towards the cliff face, pulling me behind her. On reaching the solid rock, Jo stopped and closed her eyes. I gripped her tightly, ready to catch her if she tripped and fell. Then she tentatively took another step forward and disappeared into the cliff face, pulling me with her.