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Lagomorphs
Copyright © June, 2015, FurryWurry
All rights reserved

Chapter 6 -- Storm

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After Jennie showed Jeff around the main site and introduced him to the other people, the two of them went out to the midden where they'd found the junk. Jenny showed Jeff how to use their camera to record what they were doing, went over some safety concerns (the cliff's rockface wasn't very stable), and they spent an hour or so digging out some of the garbage. Then the grad student got a call on her walkie-talkie. Jeff could hear the caller yelling but couldn't make out the words.

"I really don't like leaving you alone like this," Jennie apologized, "but something's come up at the main site. It sounds like there are some trespassers. Will you be OK by yourself for another hour or so?"

"Sure, don't worry about it. It's not as if the stuff would jump up and attack me, after all."

"Do you have enough water?"

"Yup, no problems."

"Don't forget: don't go up into the pueblo. The rock face is pretty fragile and could collapse just about any time. We'd rather not have to dig you out."

"I don't intend to. Don't worry."

"OK. Just keep piling the plastic junk over there." She waved at the pile that they'd accumulated. "We'll cart it off to the town dump when I get back."

"I think I can manage that. Drive carefully!"

"OK, then. See you in a little while."

Jeff waved as Jennie drove away, somewhat surprised at how trusting they all were. They hadn't mentioned it, but probably they did a thorough background check on everyone who applied -- no artifact thieves allowed! And maybe there were some inconspicuous scanners at the main site to detect the characteristic radioactivity spectra of ancient rocks and clays.

He went back to sorting out all the black plastic junk from the native artifacts, taking pictures of the midden's surface before and after digging out each one. The camera they'd supplied was old but functional, with plenty of memory. They'd have to upload it later since there was no wireless connectivity in the canyon. The walkie-talkies barely worked.

Most of the junk seemed to be pieces of black plastic rods somewhat less than a foot long and an inch or two in diameter. They looked like batons with a hand-guard in the middle. Some others could have started out as mesh cylinders maybe six inches in diameter and equally long. All of them were damaged in one way or another: melted, broken or bent out of shape.

Well, not quite all. After tossing a another dozen onto the pile, he came across a rod that looked pristine. There was a slider switch under the handguard, but it wouldn't move. The rod's molded grip did fit comfortably in his hand, though. Aha! A light saber! He hopped around, waving it in the air. Take that you nasty Sith! He was glad Jennie wasn't there to see his antics, but it was a welcome break from the tedium. A cool breeze helped, too. Most of the morning it had been stiflingly hot and calm in the canyon. He stuck the rod in his backpack. He didn't think Jennie would mind. After all, they were going to throw them all out, right?

He went back to digging out the garbage.

A few daydreams helped pass the time. Maybe ancient astronauts had visited while the pueblos were still occupied. Maybe they were a lost colony of criminals. Maybe interstellar police had come to roust them out. Maybe the junk was their weapons stash, destroyed by the lawmen!

But if the rods were light sabers, what were the mesh cylinders? Most of them were partially melted, looking like they'd been hit with a hot poker. Wait a minute... He held one of the broken rods against the melted gouge. It fit! No, that thought was just too silly. They couldn't be some kind of shields, could they? They were the wrong shape to fit around anyone's arm. But then he found one that was only cracked a little. Squeezing on it made it shrink in diameter while expanding in length. Maybe if he... Yup. When squeezed down, it fit on his forearm nicely from wrist to elbow. So there, Jedi! My shield laughs at your saber! Take that! Except they really hadn't held up, had they? Maybe they ran out of power? How long could they last? How many direct blows could they block before your arm got chopped off? Uh, huh. Riiiight. It was a nice daydream. But he tossed the only-slightly-cracked mesh into his backpack and kept an eye out for any others that weren't badly damaged. Maybe he could take some home for LARPing.

The breeze was picking up and it was getting darker. What little he could see of the sky over the canyon had dark clouds billowing up in it. Shit. Was that a thunderstorm? Fortunately, the wide ledge where they were working was well above the canyon floor and any possible flooding. The midden had survived there for centuries, after all. Getting drenched in a downpour wouldn't be much fun, though. The only cover would be in the cliff dwelling, where he'd been specifically warned against going. Risk rock slides or hypothermia? Talk about being caught between the proverbial rock and hard place.

A sudden gust blew away his hat and almost knocked him down. He was sure he could hear rain drumming not far away and getting closer fast. That was enough. He stuffed the camera in his backpack and climbed the canyon wall, using footholds dug out by the original occupants.

He'd barely gotten under cover when there was a brilliant lightning flash and immediate deafening roar of thunder and a torrential downpour started. Water flooded down the cliff, forcing him to back farther into the pueblo. Its floor sloped up toward a dark entrance that led deeper into the cliff. He did [i]not[/i] want to be near the entry if there was another strike nearby. Dirty water was much too good a conductor.

He no sooner thought of it than it happened. Jeff was temporarily blinded and deafened by a strike right outside. Then there was a rumble and crash of falling rock as the late afternoon light disappeared. The rock face above the entrance had collapsed. All he could see was the afterimage of the lightning flash.