The excitement comes to an abrupt halt the moment you hear voices beside that stream. Knowing that you have no reason to trust anybody you might encounter on this island, you go into instant stealth mode. It sounds like there are several men ahead of you, and although you don't recognize any of the words, the voices are calm. The speakers are merely conversing among themselves, unaware of your presence. You creep forward, finding a place behind a large rock where you can observe the speakers unseen.

What you see chills you.

There are three men in colorful grass skirts standing in a small clearing beside the small stream, each casually holding a spear that is as long as they are tall. And these men are certainly tall, nearly seven feet so, with muscular bodies. The fingers that grasp the spear shafts are tipped with elongated black nails; those on the index fingers are curved and pointed, as if these people were descended from velociraptors. And on the forehead of each man, directly above the bridge of the nose, a third eye frowns at the world.

The Wobans seem to be concerned about something, although you are relieved it's not you. "‘A‘ole hiki ia‘u ke mana‘o hou i ha‘awi hou ke alaka‘i ia makou i ke kuleana kia‘i," one of them says.

"Ma hope o ka mea a makou i hana ai ia ia, aia anei kekahi kumu e pono ai ia ia ka lokomaika‘i ia makou?" says the Woban on the right.

"‘A‘ole wau ka mea nana i kau i ka nahe i kana ‘au‘au!" the Woban on the left says defensively.

"‘A‘ole, aka, ‘o ‘oe kahi me ka mana‘o!" the first one says.

"No ke aha i makemake ai ke ali‘i e kia‘i i keia ana? ‘A‘ole e hele kekahi ma ane‘i."

"Makemake paha ke ali‘i ia makou e hele."

"He naaupo oukou. E hele mai na kanaka ma ane‘i. Ke ‘imi nei na holoholona haole ia Vul-Kar, a alaka‘i ke ana i ka luakini."

"No laila makou e ku kia‘i ai a hiki i kahi poina e ke ali‘i no ka makou mea i hana ai."

"‘Ae, ‘o ia ko ka makou ho‘opa‘i."

You haven't the slightest idea what they're gossiping about, but they seem rather glum about something. Then they go silent, sitting on the ground facing each other. One draws a circle in the dirt with his black talon-like fingernail, and they each take turns idly tossing pebbles into the center, as if they were playing some kind of children's game.

Their presence poses a dilemma for you, though. The trail that you have been following cuts straight through this clearing where the three Wobans appear to be waiting for something (or someone). For you to continue following it toward the mountain, you'd have to carefully circle through the jungle to get around them unseen.

But then you notice something else interesting: the stream that lured you here appears to emanate from a dark cave in the hillside, just five yards from your hiding spot. There is enough small brush around it that you are pretty sure that you can crawl there unseen. You have no idea where that cave goes, or if it even goes anywhere, but if nothing else it looks like it would provide better cover while you wait for the Wobans to leave.

All you know is that you can't stay here. Should the Wobans start moving around, of if another happens to come down the trail, you will be spotted instantly.

__________________________________________________
> You enter the cave.
The idea occurs to you that the cave may have some kind of significance, and this is why the Wobans are here — perhaps they are guarding it. This piques your curiosity. Of course, all of this is just a theory and you have no real idea who those Wobans are or what their purpose is, but with no maps to follow — and with a personal taste for adventure that is about a mile wide — you feel compelled to explore the cave.

The irony is that if the Wobans are here to guard the cave, they're doing a poor job of it. The cave's entrance is turned slightly away from the clearing, so they cannot even see it from where they are playing their little game of tiddlywinks or whatever. A growth of grass and small brushy plants provides just enough cover for you to crouch low and step softly between your boulder and the clear-water stream flowing out of the cave.

"He aha kela kani?" says one of the Wobans to his companions.

"‘O kau e lohe nei, ‘o wau ke lanakila nei i keia pa‘ani. E kiola i kou pohaku a pani i kou waha," someone responds.

"Aole. Lohe wau i kekahi mea e ne‘e ana."

"He mea li‘ili‘i paha kahi holoholona e ‘uwu ana i ka mau‘u. Pono ‘oe e pa‘ani i ka pa‘ani a ha‘alele i ke kama‘ilio ‘ana."

The mouth of the cave is wide, and you can feel its coolness before you even step inside. Immediately you are glad you came here, as you are now surrounded by moisture and hidden from the harsh sun — the exact opposite conditions from where you just were. You pause for a moment as your eyes adjust to the dim light, and then you continue on; you may have just snuck past the Woban guards successfully, but you would still prefer to put some distance between you.

You quickly realize that this cave is a lava tube — a tunnel-like passage carved through the hillside during an ancient eruption. It angles gently upward, with the stream fanning out across the rock floor. Up ahead is nothing but darkness, so just before you lose sight of the little bit of daylight coming in through the entrance, you stop to fish out Captain Mark's palm-sized plastic flashlight from the backpack.

Except for the uphill grade, following the lava tube is like exploring an abandoned subway. The arched ceiling maintains almost consistent dimensions as the passageway snakes its way through the rocky core of the island, giving it a man-made appearance. But where is it leading? You have no idea how good the batteries are in the flashlight, and you'd hate to be stranded here in the dark. Excitement propels you forward; anxiety has you hoping an exit appears soon.

What you do find is a fork, with passages branching to the left and right. So now what? Both are equally dark, and your first impression is that there is no difference between them, other than direction. You step into the space between the twin tunnels, lick your fingertip, and stick it into the air. Although it's subtle, there is a draft of air coming from the left tunnel, and heat coming from the right — would that be heat from outdoors, maybe? The stream that you have been following has dwindled to just a trickle, but you can see now that it flows from the left-hand tunnel.

This is all very interesting, but in a moment of sobriety you realize that Walter Berringer didn't send you here to go spelunking. Maybe you should go back the way you came, hoping that the Wobans have left so that you can resume your hike along the trail.

__________________________________________________
> You take the left tunnel.
Air is moving through the lava tube on the left, and a trickle of water is flowing through it. These are the features that sell you on the idea of going in that direction. The tube continues on the same gentle uphill grade, and at first there seems to be no difference from before you reached the fork. If nothing else, this branch bears the benefit of familiarity.

But time passes without much seeming to happen. Fifteen minutes, twenty, thirty; if you are still hiking at your usual pace, you've climbed through the tunnel for at least a mile since it branched. Are lava tubes even supposed to be this long? And being completely underground, you have no way of orienting yourself. The best you can do is theorize that a lava tube would naturally lead toward the volcanic heart of the island — bringing you closer to the highest peak, if you are correct.

As you near the hour mark, you are getting very anxious. The light that Captain Mark contributed toward your expedition was a cheap-o disposable flashlight; it has a cool-looking contoured grip and seems high-tech at first glance, but you know better. Sooner or later whatever battery is inside this thing will burn through its charge, and the LED will slowly fade into an amber glow and then darkness. These things were made for emergency use, not a sustained trek through an endless cavern, and the captain gave it to you only because you were in a hurry and this was the first thing he found. Already the light output seems to be less than it was when you first flipped it on. Each step forward will be a step you'll have to retrace if this tunnel proves to be a dead end, meaning you'll be relying on the flashlight for twice as long.

Turning around this late in the game would be a difficult decision to make, though, so it is almost with pleasure when you start to feel an uptick in the strength of the draft flowing through the tunnel — as if there is a gentle breeze coming from around the next bend. And then you see light reflecting off the walls ahead of you!

With high anticipation you round the next turn in the tunnel, finding a loose pile of rubble below a wide hole in the ceiling. It looks as through the top of the lava tube collapsed long ago, blocking off the continuing tunnel but also providing an escape hatch to the surface. The little stream you have been following all this time trickles down the mossy stones. Jungle trees rise above the opening.

Carefully, you climb up the wet, mossy rocks and pull yourself up through the breach. The sound of running water is the first thing you notice; there is a larger stream flowing past the opening, with one portion being siphoned off into a side channel and spilling into the hole in the ground. Jungle vegetation shades the stream, but the trees are less tall here, making you conclude you are much higher up the mountain slopes than when you first entered the lava tube.

The truth is you have no idea where you are, relative to where you need to be. The only thing you have to work with is the fact that a crude trail seems to continue from the hole in the ground further up whatever mountain you happen to be on. At least this one seems less well traveled than the one that led to the three Wobans guarding the cave entrance, perhaps meaning you will have this one to yourself. Seeing no better options, you follow it uphill.

If the previous trail was like a highway for foot traffic across the island, this one must be the little-known byway. There are no footprints in the muddy trail surface. Clearly someone must use it, though, or else it wouldn't be here. But it is narrow and rugged, like a game trail filing through the thick brush. The only details that inform you differently are the occasional logs that look like they have been hacked away to clear the path.

Eventually the jungle forest gives way to a brushy landscape, with a canopy that is only scarcely higher than you are. Rocks are everywhere, gray and mossy. Here you come across something unexpected: the remains of an old campsite, located in a patch of level ground between the foot of a rocky knob and another small mountain stream. There is a small fireplace in the middle, made with a ring of stones in a way that would make Smokey the Bear proud. Have Wobans camped here, or was this created by one of the other treasure seekers? Not only are the pieces are of charred wood starting to rot, but small plants are starting to shoot up through the coals. No one has been here in a year or more.

It is getting late in the day, so the discovery of this campsite may be very timely. You drop the pack down and drink from the refilled Aquafina bottles. The only detraction is that you still have no idea where you are, so you decide to put that bald rock knob to use. It rises fifty feet above the stream, and you have to use your hands to scramble up its steep rock ledges — but the view from the top is very informative.

You seem to have crossed a watershed divide, from the east side of the island to a broad valley on the northwest side. The knob is high above that valley, like a scenic overlook at a national park, with the sound of a small river nearly a thousand feet below you. The Pacific Ocean extends out to infinity beyond the foothills, and there to the northeast is the Big Papi, which at this distance it little more than a white dot.

The most important detail, though, is the view of the neighboring mountains. You have indeed been climbing closer to the main summit — and in fact you have less than a mile to go before reaching the base of its imposing cliffs. The mountain on which you're standing almost seems to buttress that tower-like formation of rock, suggesting for the first time that there may indeed be any easy way to the temple ruins at the top.

Delighted with all of these finds — a secluded campsite, a commanding view of the relevant parts of the island, a path that seems to lead directly to the Stone of Vul-Kar — you decide to call it a day and spend the night here. Darkness comes swiftly in the tropics, and it's hard to imagine you'll find a better spot further up the mountain. So you scoot back down the knob and begin the process of setting up your camp. Then your spirits dim when you remember Meredith, and the fact she ran off with all your gear. You curse her name as you try and improvise a basic shelter using the parachute cord and the blue plastic tarp — and as you dine on the less-than-Epicurean feast of pepperoni sticks. You can only hope she fell into a pit of quicksand and suffered a horrible death.

To improve your mood, you indulge in a small campfire. As darkness sets in over Woban Island and you watch the dancing flames, you notice for the first time the large tree standing to the side of the site. Someone has carved something into the smooth bark: the letters BPV.

Beatriz Paya-Vallejo! Your old nemesis, and the first person Walter Berringer hired to find the Stone of Vul-Kar… before she went missing. So she came this way too, and sat by this same little ring of rocks. And it was her stack of gathered wood that you used as kindling to get your flame going. This merely adds to the intrigue of all that has transpired today. You fish your jackknife out of your pocket and quickly inscribe your own initials into the tree.

That's when the sound of distant drumming catches your attention. Curious, you climb the knob again, using the light of the quarter-moon to see your way. From the top you see large campfires from several points across the island, accompanied by the drumming and lots of chanting. It looks like this is some kind of Woban holiday, with concurrent celebrations in every village — that, or the natives are about to go on the warpath. You have no way of knowing.

And when you look more closely, you catch glimpses of smaller campfires here and there in the more secluded parts of the island. Are these the other treasure seekers, like you trying to keep a low profile on this festive evening?

__________________________________________________
> Next page.
Despite the inglorious shelter and the lack of an adequate sleeping bag, you sleep soundly anyway. Perhaps too soundly, because by the time your eyes open the sun has already risen and is making its upward climb into the sky. Last night's fire is now a pile of cooling ashes, and the drumming has long since ceased. Blue skies overhead promise a glorious day ahead, as far as the weather is concerned.

Then something catches your eye: on the tree where you carved your initials below those of your old adversary, there is now a freshly-carved MN. As hard as you find it to believe, that could only be Meredith Nowitki! Could it possibly be that she passed through while you were still sleeping — toting all of your brand-new gear — and carved her name in the tree just to taunt you? You step out onto the narrow footpath and sure enough, there are now new boot prints in the mud, left by someone with feet much smaller than your own.

How infuriating! How aggravating! How humiliating! Not only did she steal your stuff, but she was following behind you so that you could lead her to the Stone of Vul-Kar! Why else would she be here? And now that you have overindulged in sleep, she has passed you by. What kind of a headstart does she have on you? Minutes? Hours?

Extremely displeased with yourself, you hurriedly take down the tarp and pack up the few things you have. You remember well Berringer's rage yesterday morning when he learned that Meredith, his erstwhile "acquisition" from the Boston Globe, had deserted him — and you can only imagine how much worse it would be if you let her get to his prize first. You are so angry that you start to contemplate ways that gun of his might come in useful after all.

The best you can do for breakfast is a couple more pepperoni sticks; maybe tonight, with Meredith permanently out of the way, you'll have all of your stuff back so you can enjoy something a little less gas-inducing. Then you shoulder the black book bag and set off for the mountain.

Her tracks are easy to follow, although in retrospect so were yours, too, probably. Beyond the campsite, the rugged footpath continues climbing through the high-elevation brush, the mud softer than ever, like black cookie batter. Meredith must have been inspired to move swiftly, because you see no sign of her. Who would believe that someone who spent the last three years trailing Walter Berringer around a baseball stadium in high heels would be so adept at climbing a mountain?

But then the trail runs cold when the vegetation ends and the way forward is nothing but bare rock. You can trace Meredith's steps only for about six paces, where the mud from her boots left an obvious track, but then nothing after that. You're not even sure where the actual trail goes; the best you can do is continue climbing at the same angle, and hope that some sign presents itself.

What you find a moment later is a wall of rock blocking your way. Looking back, you can still see where the trail exited the forest, with a direct line of travel leading to where you are now. To the best of your tracking ability, this is where you're supposed to be, so you scout your options. By circling a bit to the left, you find a rope ladder dangling down the rock face — the surest sign that you are on the correct trail. But the fibrous rope looks old and weathered, and you are not sure you can trust it to hold your weight. The only other option would be to scale the rock face itself. The wall isn't quite vertical, and the surface seems coarsely textured with just enough subtle imperfections to make footholds and handholds theoretically plentiful, but you can't tell for sure from below.

__________________________________________________
> You climb the rock.
Maybe the rope ladder worked for Meredith, but she weighs what, a hundred pounds soaking wet? You aren't about to take that same chance, so instead you find a pair of small protrusions on the rock and pull yourself up, your boot scraping against the surface until your toe finds something it can step on. With this first successful step, you look up and identify a route to the top where the rock is angled fifty degrees or so — very steep to be sure, but not so steep as to be impossible to climb.

The going is slow, though, as there is no room for error on a climbing route this exposed. The wall of rock is only maybe fifty feet tall, but if you were to lose your grip there would be nothing to stop your fall. Slowly you work the rock directly in front of you, looking up from time to time, but never looking down, maintaining three points of contact at all times. Before moving the next hand or foot, you test your grip with your other appendages to reassure yourself you're not about to slip off the mountain.

It is a long and tiring process, though, during which you imagine Meredith getting far ahead of you, perhaps even finding some kind of hidden passageway leading up to the temple ruins where the Stone of Vul-Kar awaits. When you last saw Walter Berringer on board the Big Papi you thought maybe his anger towards Meredith had eclipsed his desire to obtain the gem. Now that Meredith has passed you on the trail, you're starting to feel the same way.

Although it only takes ten minutes to reach the top, it feels more like thirty. The slope doesn't taper at the top like you had hoped, so there is one more delay as you are forced to find something else to grab onto so you can pull yourself over the edge, finally coming to rest on a small terrace of level ground.

You are torn by the competing interests of stopping to rest and continuing your chase, when the sound of running footsteps makes the choice for you. Although all four of your limbs feeling limp from the exertion of the climb, adrenaline takes over as you charge around a boulder to where you thought you heard the noise.

Here you find the top of the rope ladder, anchored by a pair of stout wooden stakes wedged into a crevice in the rock. Nobody is there, but you do see a familiar green object lying on the ground. Picking it up, you recognize it immediately as a six-inch survival knife you've owned for so long you don't even remember where you got it. This was one of the items that was in the REI backpack that Meredith stole… meaning she was right here! She was waiting for you to climb the ladder so she could cut the ropes on you — not just trying to block your path, but intentionally waiting for an opportunity to cause you grave harm!

Looking around, you don't see her — but that proves nothing because you have reached an area of irregular topography, a restless summit strewn with boulders and indented by alcoves and large crevices. There is a maze-like quality to the area, almost, and it occurs to you that Meredith could be anywhere here. You listen, but you hear no further footsteps. Either she has gotten away, or she is hiding here somewhere among the rocks.

Tucking your trusty old knife under your belt, you set out to search this strange summit. Much of Woban Island spreads out below you, although the summit is so broad and cluttered that you never have the full 360° view. However, you are so close to the main summit that it looms above the rock formations surrounding you. For the first time you can clearly see the summit ruins on its top.

What you're looking for is Meredith's whereabouts. You'd call her name, but that would make you feel like you're searching for a lost puppy. It would also broadcast your location to your quarry. No, it would be better to let her stew for a moment, wondering where you are. But in the process of looking for her, you circle around to the far side of the summit where you find something completely unexpected: a rope bridge spanning a massive gulf. The near end is anchored to large wooden poles, similar to the ladder but on a larger scale. Five hundred feet away, the far end of the bridge is tethered to a narrow ledge on the side of the steep main summit, with a tunnel leading into the mountain. In between is a chasm hundreds of feet deep, with a botton full of talus. Looking down into the depths, you can see the remains of an earlier version of the bridge rotting away on the rocks below. Are those human bones that you see down there, too?

So did Meredith cross the bridge, or is she lying in wait somewhere on this side, hidden among the rocks? It's frustrating to consider the possibilities: either she is already climbing up to the temple ruins, on her way to to grab the Stone of Vul-Kar before you; or she's poised to sabotage you again by cutting the ropes once you are halfway across the bridge.

But that wouldn't make sense; if she's here to get the stone, then she needs that bridge just as much as you do.

__________________________________________________
> You search for Meredith first.
Meredith Nowitki has been a random element so far on this assignment. It seems like it was a long time ago when she just lurked in the background, barely interfering in the planning discussions you had with Walter Berringer, but occasionally performing a useful task like the good assistant you thought she was. On the yacht she started to act more sullen, and then first thing yesterday morning she surprised everyone by skidaddling to the island, only to show up once more on this mountain. It doesn't add up, and you get the strong sense she knows something you don't. Intuition tells you to seek her out before you proceed.

But where could she be? With this riot of rock here on the mountaintop, there are hundreds of hiding spots. There isn't time to systematically search each nook and cranny, so you need to think about this. All morning long she has been one step ahead of you. The evidence suggests that up until a few minutes ago she had been lurking at the top of the rope ladder with your knife; if all she had wanted to do was sabotage the ladder she could have done that any time.

So here you are at another rope structure, where Meredith has the opportunity to apply the same trick. Except that doing so means she won't be able to cross the bridge herself. She doesn't want to cross the bridge, just eliminate you? If all this is true, that means….

You remember the handgun that Berringer insisted you take, which you put in one of the book bag's side pockets. Removing the gun from its hiding spot, you put the pack back on and circle the long way around a small rock spire not far from the beginning of the bridge. You had noticed that spot a moment ago, thinking that if you were going to ambush somebody trying to cross the rope bridge, that's where you would hide. So with the gun in hand, you step quietly until you are flanking the little alcove behind the rock.

"Well good morning, Meredith," you say. "I've been looking for you all over."

"And here I was, starting to think Walter was overpaying you. It's good to see you again." She, too, has a gun drawn and pointed at you.

"I'm going to come right out and say that I don't have the first clue what you're doing here," you say.

"You can say that again: you don't have a clue," she says. "You're just a pawn in Walter's latest game."

"I was hired to do a job. That hardly makes me a pawn."

"You don't know, because you can't see it. But you're just haplessly making your way. When that big red marble comes to bowl you over, you'll never see it coming."

"Big red marble?" you say. "I think you spent too much time listening to Berringer and his overdone metaphors."

"I will agree that I spent too much time with Walter," Meredith says.

A long, awkward moment passes when neither of you has a barbed comment to make, and so you both just stand there pointing your guns at each other.

"I won't shoot if you won't," you say. She gives a slight nod, and you both point your guns downward.

Relieved that the shootout has been postponed, you look at your old "friend" a little more closely. She is dressed like she is ready to explore the source of the Nile or something, with a khaki shirt, khaki shorts, and a white pith helmet. You resist the urge to make a comment; doesn't she know that Halloween was last week?

__________________________________________________
> Next page.
"So I've been dying to know," you say, "how is my gear holding up?"

"Quite well," Meredith says. "I'm not sure I set the tent up right, but it didn't rain, so who cares? That down sleeping bag sure was comfy, though. I see that you figured out a way to make do without all that stuff."

"I'm just glad you left your initials in that tree. Otherwise I'd have no idea who was after me."

"You think I'm after you? Ha, don't flatter yourself."

"I can only believe what the evidence leads me to conclude," you say.

"Well, OK, sure. I needed you to put me on the right trail, because I couldn't make heads or tails of those military maps. But then after a certain point I had to assume you were still Walter's agent, and I know how much he gets bent out of shape when he thinks he's been betrayed. So who was it that sang that song — 'In this ever-changing world, live and let die'?"

"So here we are, Meredith, just you and me on top of this mountain. Are we going to shoot it out? Wrestle each other off the side of the cliff? Join forces and claim the Stone of Vul-Kar together?"

"I don't know yet," she says. "What you're looking for is across that bridge, you know. Now that we both know we're here, there's no point in playing games. I'll let you go if you let me go."

"Isn't what you're looking for on the other side of that bridge, too?"

"Maybe, but I'm guessing not."

You see that her gaze has stopped on something behind you, so you turn to see what it might be. There, on a rock about fifty feet behind you, are three letters: BPV. The writing is frail and white, as if scratched onto the rock by someone holding another rock.

"That's what this is all about?" you say. "You're trying to find Beatriz Paya-Vallejo?"

"You could say that," is all she says.

"How do you know that's not her down on the rocks?"

You step over toward the bridge and point down into the chasm, to the battered set of human remains sprawled across the talus pile. Skeptically, Meredith comes to see what you see, and she gasps when she spots the bones.

"Do you think that's her?" you say.

Meredith's eyes are wide with surprise, and for the first time since this encounter began she seems to be at a loss for words.

"So what's the big deal, anyway?" you say. "You two weren't… you weren't… you know…."

"Oh, Christ, don't be so lurid," she finally says. "Look, the temple is across this bridge. If that's what you want, then just go. Be Walter Berringer's little pawn and get your million dollars. If you want to know my secrets, you're gonna have to help me get down into that chasm."

__________________________________________________
> You help Meredith descend into the chasm.
The unpredictability that Meredith has been creating since you arrived at Woban Island just continues and continues. Case in point: you woke up this morning thinking your purpose was to obtain the Stone of Vul-Kar and make a rich collector happy. But here you are about to agree to help the person who crossed him and stole your stuff… just to find the body of someone whose death wouldn't concern you at all. If doing so is the only way you're going to learn Meredith's secret, then so be it.

"I'll help you," you say, "but we're not going down this way. That's a sheer drop down to that talus pile. We need to get off this summit and flank that chasm."

"If you say so," Meredith says. "I assume you have an idea on how to do that."

"Maybe, but we're going to need to backtrack off the rock."

You lead the way back across the summit to the top of the rope ladder… where a short time ago your companion was lying in wait to kill you — or at least watch as you fell and broke both your legs.

"I noticed you chose not to use this thing," is all she says now. "Is it because of an accident when you were a kid? Is there a name for it — 'ladder-o-phobia'?"

You ignore the wisecracks. "You first," you tell her.

She complies, turning around, taking the ropes in hand, and slipping down as confidently as a roofer. The ropes don't even strain under her weight.

You imitate her motion, finding that the ladder is more solid than it looks. You're not a fan of the way it flops about as you move down it, though.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Meredith says once you drop down to the ground below. "Now where do we go?"

"Let me see," you say, studying the terrain. Skirting the rock will not be an option because this part of the mountain is too steep, so you'll have to descend back into the tree line and bushwhack around the summit. You find the trail once more, but as soon as the woods open up you cut right to begin your contour into the rugged notch between the mountains.

"You owe me an explanation," you say once you become reasonably certain of your course. It will take a little way to reach that gorge, so you have time to be a good listener.

"I suppose I do," Meredith says. "And don't worry; if I'm correct, you'll get the Stone of Vul-Kar. The real one, and not some two-bit knock-off."

You're confused, but you're learning that's to be expected when dealing with Meredith Nowitki. "I didn't realize there was more than one."

"As far as everybody's concerned, yes, there is only one stone. But when Bea came here looking for it, she was carrying a duplicate."

"A duplicate?" you say incredulously. "Where does one find a duplicate Stone of Vul-Kar — at a Jared store?"

"This one came from Amazon, actually."

"Of course. That was going to be my next guess."

"No, seriously. It was a large amethyst from inside a geode — worthless, except as an office paperweight. The Stone of Vul-Kar was supposed to be purple, amethysts are purple, so it seemed like the perfect decoy. You see, Bea was worried about what would happen if the Wobans found out if the stone was missing. So to buy herself enough time to get off the island, she wanted to swap out the real Vul-Kar with a fake. Walter and I were waiting for her on the yacht when she called on the satellite to say she had made the switch, but needed to find a different way off the mountain. That was the last we heard of her."

"Ah, I'm starting to see," you say. "You think Paya-Vallejo died with the real Vul-Kar in her possession."

"That is the thesis I'm trying to prove, yes."

"Hold on — do you hear that?" you say.

"Hear what?"

"Listen."

Somewhere in the distance you hear the beating of drums, just like last night.

__________________________________________________
> Next page.
"I heard those last night," Meredith says. "What does it mean?"

"It's the Wobans," you say. "I've heard drumming like that too, in other dangerous parts of the world. It usually means the natives are up to no good. They intend harm to somebody."

"Hopefully not us," she says.

"Good luck finding us way up here on the side of this mountain," you say. "Besides, how would they even know we're up here? There were three Wobans guarding the entrance to that lava tube, and I'm pretty sure I snuck past them without them noticing me. How about you? How did you get by?"

Meredith doesn't say anything, so you turn to see if she's all right. She looks as pale as a slice of Wonder Bread.

"By 'lava tube,' you mean that big long cave, right?" she says.

"Yes…."

"Well… look, it's this way…."

"Meredith, what on earth did you do?"

"I shot those three goons down there."

"You shot them?!"

"Well, yes," Meredith says. "I wasn't about to take any chances, and those eyes on their foreheads were just creepy." She pauses as she considers the implications of what she just said. "You don't suppose that means they're after us, do you?"

"Well, I mean, it's just speculation on my part, but yes I think this could mean they're after us!"

It certainly makes sense, anyway; three of their kind were found murdered, and now just like anyone they demand justice. So in the finest tradition of mankind, three-eyed or otherwise, they have formed a posse to execute that justice. There are only two things in your favor: one is the possibility that none of this is true, and the Wobans are just out on a hunting expedition; the second thing is the fact that you are about to enter a gorge where no one should expect to find anybody.

That gorge, when you finally do enter it, truly is one of the most impressive places you've ever been. There are sheer cliffs on both sides, with those on the smaller mountain to your right, and the tower-like central peak immediately before you. Natural forces have been chipping away at both rock faces over the ages, and the pieces now lie strewn about the space between the mountains in a huge talus pile.

"We have to climb over that stuff?" Meredith says, pointing to the jumble of boulders.

"There's no other way through."

Having been on top of the smaller mountain earlier today, it now seems odd to be viewing the rope bridge from below. Getting to the spot directly beneath it is no easy matter, since there is no level ground anywhere in sight; you climb up the angled chunks of fallen cliff-rock, scoot down the opposite side, and try not to fall into the dark spaces between them.

"Is it me, or are the drums getting closer?" she asks.

"Don't worry about it," you say. "We're safe down here."

If only that were true, you think to yourself. If only that were true.

Actually, if need be you might be able to take cover amid the talus. Some of these hidden spaces might turn out to be spacious "caves" of sorts, therefore as you scramble through the bottom of the chasm you try to spot the best places to hide.

"Here we are," you say. "I've found part of the collapsed bridge."

"But where was that body?"

"Over here, I think."

Indeed, just two boulders over lie the bones you spotted from above. You presume the person had been trying to cross the bridge when it gave way.

"Is it Bea? There's not much left of her, if it was—"

"No, this most certainly was not Beatriz Paya-Vallejo," you say.

"How can you be so certain?" Meredith protests.

You point to the skull, which was heavily fractured from the fall — but is intact enough to clearly show a third eye socket, directly above the nasal cavity.

"A Woban!" Meredith says, the disappointment evident in her voice. "So if this isn't… then where is…."

"I can't help you there," you say. "Maybe we should just keep a low pro—"

Just then the chasm is filled with a disorienting noise. At first you think an earthquake is causing the cliff walls to crumble down around you, but the ground isn't shaking. Then you turn in the direction from which you came — and there, right where you least expected to find them, is the Woban "posse" that has come to track you down. You notice with dismay how easily they can advance over the rubble, as if every one of them had practiced for just such an occasion — all twenty or thirty of them.

"They were able to track us…" you say in a tone that sounds like some kind of quiet admiration, even to you.

"Maybe you should ask them for lessons," Meredith says, the humor in her voice equally out of place given the circumstances.

"Maybe I will, maybe I will," you say as the lead Woban hunters take aim at the two of you with their enormous spears.

THE END


"So I've been dying to know," you say, "how is my gear holding up?"

"Quite well," Meredith says. "I'm not sure I set the tent up right, but it didn't rain, so who cares? That down sleeping bag sure was comfy, though. I see that you figured out a way to make do without all that stuff."

"I'm just glad you left your initials in that tree. Otherwise I'd have no idea who was after me."

"You think I'm after you? Ha, don't flatter yourself."

"I can only believe what the evidence leads me to conclude," you say.

"Well, OK, sure. I needed you to put me on the right trail, because I couldn't make heads or tails of those military maps. But then after a certain point I had to assume you were still Walter's agent, and I know how much he gets bent out of shape when he thinks he's been betrayed. So who was it that sang that song — 'In this ever-changing world, live and let die'?"

"So here we are, Meredith, just you and me on top of this mountain. Are we going to shoot it out? Wrestle each other off the side of the cliff? Join forces and claim the Stone of Vul-Kar together?"

"I don't know yet," she says. "What you're looking for is across that bridge, you know. Now that we both know we're here, there's no point in playing games. I'll let you go if you let me go."

"Isn't what you're looking for on the other side of that bridge, too?"

"Maybe, but I'm guessing not."

You see that her gaze has stopped on something behind you, so you turn to see what it might be. There, on a rock about fifty feet behind you, are three letters: BPV. The writing is frail and white, as if scratched onto the rock by someone holding another rock.

"That's what this is all about?" you say. "You're trying to find Beatriz Paya-Vallejo?"

"You could say that," is all she says.

"How do you know that's not her down on the rocks?"

You step over toward the bridge and point down into the chasm, to the battered set of human remains sprawled across the talus pile. Skeptically, Meredith comes to see what you see, and she gasps when she spots the bones.

"Do you think that's her?" you say.

Meredith's eyes are wide with surprise, and for the first time since this encounter began she seems to be at a loss for words.

"So what's the big deal, anyway?" you say. "You two weren't… you weren't… you know…."

"Oh, Christ, don't be so lurid," she finally says. "Look, the temple is across this bridge. If that's what you want, then just go. Be Walter Berringer's little pawn and get your million dollars. If you want to know my secrets, you're gonna have to help me get down into that chasm."

__________________________________________________
> You cross the bridge and climb to the temple ruins.
"I don't know what you're up to Meredith, and maybe I don't care. But I'm here for a single purpose, and if I don't make good on my commitments then I may have trouble being employed ever again."

"Your commitment to your job is admirable," Meredith says. "Misguided, but admirable."

"What can such people as I do, crawling between heaven and earth?"

"Oh come now, let's not get all literate on each other," she says. "Go. Be on your way. I wish you success on your journey."

You think about demanding your stuff back, but the way this day is proceeding your mission to obtain the Stone of Vul-Kar is almost over. By this time tomorrow, you should be back on board the Big Papi sailing north to Hawaii, with Walter Berringer wiring the balance of your million dollars to your account. You'll be able to buy your own REI store if you want.

As you turn toward the rope bridge, Meredith says, "Hold on. Before you go, seriously, how should I get down into that chasm?"

"Jump, for all I care," you say, and you turn back toward the bridge.

You are too fed up with Meredith to care too much about the condition of the bridge; if this thing can withstand the weight of a grown Woban, then you won't be too much of a load. Still, there isn't very much to this bridge: just four thick, russet-colored ropes and dozens upon dozens of rough-hewn wood slabs. The upper two ropes serve as rudimentary handrails, and smaller ropes bind everything into something resembling a unified structure.

It seems steady at first, but the further out you go the bouncier the bridge gets. Several times you feel compelled to come to a stop to let the vibrations stop; they are shooting forward and back through the bridge like sine waves, growing so strong that you worry you might get bounced off the span. You can't help but look down, because the gaps between the slats are wide enough you could sink a boot through one if you weren't careful. Could that really be the remains of your old nemesis down there on those boulders? Somehow the bones seem too big to be Paya-Vallejo, but you'll let Meredith figure that one out for herself.

Speaking of Meredith, you turn and see no such person on the summit behind you. Maybe she plays dumb a lot, but perhaps that has just been an act. You're confident she'll figure out a way into that gorge down there.

Hold on — what's that?

The sound is so faint that you almost missed it. Actually you were tuning it out, because that drumming noise you heard last night has returned and has been going on for a few minutes. You have been paying too much attention to the bridge to notice. The Wobans are up to something, but it's hard to say what.

When the bridge stops shimmying underneath you, you continue stepping gingerly across. After reaching the sagging midpoint of the span, you have to climb up a slight grade to reach the opposite end. The vibrations become less intense the closer you get to the anchor point, until finally you reach the ledge on the side of the island's main summit. Before you enter the tunnel leading into the mountain, you take one last look at the landscape behind you. There is no movement other than clouds drifting lazily in the sky, but the drumming does sound like it has gotten closer.

The Wobans aren't your concern; for all you know they're on the hunt for some giant flightless bird or something. You're on the hunt for something else entirely, and right now your quarry is so close that you almost smell all the twenty-dollar bills that will be spewing out of the first ATM you come across back home.

You step into the tunnel expecting darkness, but finding a shaft of light from above instead. The tunnel leads in a hundred feet or so to a circular room with no ceiling; it extends upward for hundreds of feet all the way to the top of the mountain, making you feel like you're at the bottom of a well looking up. Stone steps protrude from the wall, spiralling gracefully all the way up.

Eagerly you take to the steps, learning quickly that they weren't carved with your little human legs in mind. This was a place designed by seven-foot giants, with steps made for people with longer strides — meaning you have to work harder to ascend each riser, and then make an awkward half-step in between. The closest thing to this in your life experience was that time when you climbed an old lighthouse once on the East Coast, but that was a narrow and confined space. This place was constructed on a grand scale.

On the other hand it's a tall shaft to climb, and going round and round gets tedious quickly. You feel like the action hero in a poorly-edited movie: you've discovered the secret to vanquishing the alien invasion force, and only you can save Planet Earth — but first you need to run a marathon to deliver the news to the rebel base, so check back after a couple hours.

All right, so it doesn't take that long to reach the top of the spiral stairs, but by the time you get there you feel spent — and when you lean against a wall in exhaustion to catch your breath, this further delays the completion of your mission.

__________________________________________________
> Next page.
Looking up at your new surroundings, you find that the land here on top of the mountain is completely flat. However, the entire plateau is occupied by stone ruins, the remains of some civilization that is practically unknown to academia — a culture that existed nowhere else on Earth.

But what a strange culture that must have been, like a race of ancient tourists who traveled the globe and recreated the various architectural styles they found, here on the one or two acres of buildable space atop this mountain. There are four small buildings around the edge of the summit, each a house-sized stepped pyramid like something out of Mexico, but with four Greek-style columns on top. All four face the central structure, which is a stepped pyramid of the same size. But instead of the columns, this one is capped with a statue.

If the Stone of Vul-Kar is anywhere, it's going to be in that central structure. You step over the crumbled remains of a toppled column to get a closer look. The statue looks like a Buddha from afar, a cherubic being with a large grin — except that this "Buddha" is horned, giving the otherwise complacent grin a malicious subtext. Is this the Vul-Kar god whose precious gem you've come to rob?

A tall and dark entrance leads into the temple, which is not large at all. The interior is something more like a closet, with room for three or four people to enter and feel intimidated by the carving of Vul-Kar that occupies an entire wall. Here he is nothing but an enormous face, with pupils the size of manhole covers and a nose on which you could easily bump your head. His eyes are crossed and his mouth is opened, revealing a raised tongue. Clearly this not a kind and forgiving god, but one who seeks to instill fear and demand obedience.

There is something missing, though: there is no purple gem. You look around in case you're missing something, but the interior of the temple is so small there is nothing to miss. The focus of this entire chamber seems to be that stuck-out tongue; it's what the crossed eyes are looking at, and it's what the nose shelters. You duck under the nose and examine the stone tongue more closely, noticing only a flat spot where it seems a prominent object should be. Other than that, the only noteworthy thing you see now is a single inscription, scratched onto the tip of Vul-Kar's tongue with a piece of stone much like the way Paya-Vallejo inscribed her initials down by the rope bridge:

MAMMON

Before you have a chance to ponder its significance, your concentration is broken by the sound of shouting outside. What the hell is going on? You rush out of the temple and follow the sound to the edge of the plateau — hesitating to go all the way to the edge because of the dizzying drop-off you know you'll find, but getting close enough to get a good look at the scene below.

The mountain at the other end of the rope bridge where you encountered Meredith Nowitki has been overrun by a hundred angry Wobans, who seem to be celebrating the capture of a prisoner. They surround the hapless victim, making it impossible for you to get a good look at who it is… but then again, who else was on this mountain today? The crowd has gathered atop the cliff near the rope bridge, parting as the victim is pushed toward the edge. That's when you finally get a good look at the person:

It's Meredith.

Then the Wobans go quiet as an imposing figure with a feathered crown and a feathered robe steps forward. "I keia la, e ho‘olei makou i keia haumia i ka make i loa‘a ia ia ma muli o kana mau hana hana kolohe," he shouts as the others pay respectful attention. "Ua piha kona kino i na ‘uhane ‘ino. E waiho makou i kona kino make e pehu i ka la, ‘a‘ole lawe ‘ia mai i ka makou papa‘aina."

The Wobans cheer in agreement to whatever their king has just proclaimed. Meredith is kneeling at the edge of the precipice, scanning the sky as if looking for divine intervention. Then she spots you watching from the top of the mountain.

"Help me!" she shouts… and to your dismay the Woban king follows her gaze and sees you too.

"Pepehi ia ia," the king says. "A laila e kauoha aku ‘oe ia ‘oe e lawe mai ia‘u i kekahi pio."

You watch in horror as Meredith is shoved off the mountain into the rocky chasm. The Wobans don't waste any time enjoying the grisly spectacle though; a detachment of about a dozen angry warriors charge across the bridge single-file and into the tunnel leading to the spiral stairway. They are coming for you next, and there is no other way off the mountain.

THE END


Maybe the rope ladder worked for Meredith, but she weighs what, a hundred pounds soaking wet? You aren't about to take that same chance, so instead you find a pair of small protrusions on the rock and pull yourself up, your boot scraping against the surface until your toe finds something it can step on. With this first successful step, you look up and identify a route to the top where the rock is angled fifty degrees or so — very steep to be sure, but not so steep as to be impossible to climb.

The going is slow, though, as there is no room for error on a climbing route this exposed. The wall of rock is only maybe fifty feet tall, but if you were to lose your grip there would be nothing to stop your fall. Slowly you work the rock directly in front of you, looking up from time to time, but never looking down, maintaining three points of contact at all times. Before moving the next hand or foot, you test your grip with your other appendages to reassure yourself you're not about to slip off the mountain.

It is a long and tiring process, though, during which you imagine Meredith getting far ahead of you, perhaps even finding some kind of hidden passageway leading up to the temple ruins where the Stone of Vul-Kar awaits. When you last saw Walter Berringer on board the Big Papi you thought maybe his anger towards Meredith had eclipsed his desire to obtain the gem. Now that Meredith has passed you on the trail, you're starting to feel the same way.

Although it only takes ten minutes to reach the top, it feels more like thirty. The slope doesn't taper at the top like you had hoped, so there is one more delay as you are forced to find something else to grab onto so you can pull yourself over the edge, finally coming to rest on a small terrace of level ground.

You are torn by the competing interests of stopping to rest and continuing your chase, when the sound of running footsteps makes the choice for you. Although all four of your limbs feeling limp from the exertion of the climb, adrenaline takes over as you charge around a boulder to where you thought you heard the noise.

Here you find the top of the rope ladder, anchored by a pair of stout wooden stakes wedged into a crevice in the rock. Nobody is there, but you do see a familiar green object lying on the ground. Picking it up, you recognize it immediately as a six-inch survival knife you've owned for so long you don't even remember where you got it. This was one of the items that was in the REI backpack that Meredith stole… meaning she was right here! She was waiting for you to climb the ladder so she could cut the ropes on you — not just trying to block your path, but intentionally waiting for an opportunity to cause you grave harm!

Looking around, you don't see her — but that proves nothing because you have reached an area of irregular topography, a restless summit strewn with boulders and indented by alcoves and large crevices. There is a maze-like quality to the area, almost, and it occurs to you that Meredith could be anywhere here. You listen, but you hear no further footsteps. Either she has gotten away, or she is hiding here somewhere among the rocks.

Tucking your trusty old knife under your belt, you set out to search this strange summit. Much of Woban Island spreads out below you, although the summit is so broad and cluttered that you never have the full 360° view. However, you are so close to the main summit that it looms above the rock formations surrounding you. For the first time you can clearly see the summit ruins on its top.

What you're looking for is Meredith's whereabouts. You'd call her name, but that would make you feel like you're searching for a lost puppy. It would also broadcast your location to your quarry. No, it would be better to let her stew for a moment, wondering where you are. But in the process of looking for her, you circle around to the far side of the summit where you find something completely unexpected: a rope bridge spanning a massive gulf. The near end is anchored to large wooden poles, similar to the ladder but on a larger scale. Five hundred feet away, the far end of the bridge is tethered to a narrow ledge on the side of the steep main summit, with a tunnel leading into the mountain. In between is a chasm hundreds of feet deep, with a botton full of talus. Looking down into the depths, you can see the remains of an earlier version of the bridge rotting away on the rocks below. Are those human bones that you see down there, too?

So did Meredith cross the bridge, or is she lying in wait somewhere on this side, hidden among the rocks? It's frustrating to consider the possibilities: either she is already climbing up to the temple ruins, on her way to to grab the Stone of Vul-Kar before you; or she's poised to sabotage you again by cutting the ropes once you are halfway across the bridge.

But that wouldn't make sense; if she's here to get the stone, then she needs that bridge just as much as you do.

__________________________________________________
> You cross the bridge.
The thought that Meredith might be lurking behind you is sheer paranoia, especially since it appears the bridge is the only way to get to the main summit. If she destroys the bridge just to kill you, then how would she get across? You're just overthinking a simple problem. Like everyone else, she's here to grab the Stone of Vul-Kar so she can claim a reward and get rich. If you don't act fast, she may find it before you do.

However, you have the same hesitation about the bridge as you did about the rope ladder, in terms of its structural adequacy. The bridge is merely a combination of four fibrous ropes with dozens of wood slabs to step on. It seems like a very primitive contraption for such an ambitious span, and structural failure would result in certain death. Do the Wobans have any civil engineers among them? How often do they inspect this thing? How did the previous bridge fail, and whose skeleton is that down on the rocks?

But here's another way of looking at it: this bridge was presumably built by Woban natives, who are seven feet tall and significantly heavier than a typical human. If the bridge can carry one of them safely across, what are you so worried about?

So you approach the bridge, grab the two waist-high ropes that serve as handrails, take a deep breath, and step onto the first wood slab. The bridge shimmies under your weight, but it holds. So you take the next step, then the next, and then the next, one at a time. You have to watch where you are placing your feet, so you have no choice but to look down lest you slip a boot through the gap between the slats; Philippe Petit you are not. The vast space below you is terrifying, so you choose to focus instead on the craftmanship of the bridge: the strength of rust-colored rope, the evenness of the wood slabs, the knots that hold everything together. It's quite the piece of work.

When you are just a third of the way across, you are startled to hear a voice call out behind you.

"Give my regards to Walter."

You turn carefully and see Meredith kneeling at the beginning of the bridge, at the place you reasoned she wouldn't be. She no longer has your knife, but she is holding a handgun to one of the two lower ropes.

"Meredith, wh—" you start to say, but she's not interested in small talk. She fires, the bullet severing the rope just as handily as a knife. The walkway of wood slabs drops away like a trap door, and in a desperate act to catch yourself you throw your arms around the two handrails. This leaves you dangling in space by your armpits.

Seeing that you're still holding onto the bridge, she stands and shoots the upper rope on the opposite side of the bridge. The right handrail falls away, leaving your feet grasping for purchase on the one bottom rope that still remains, and your arms holding onto the last handrail. Meredith doesn't even wait to see you fall; she shoulders your green backpack and disappears among the rocks, apparently having no interest in crossing the bridge.

THE END


Despite the inglorious shelter and the lack of an adequate sleeping bag, you sleep soundly anyway. Perhaps too soundly, because by the time your eyes open the sun has already risen and is making its upward climb into the sky. Last night's fire is now a pile of cooling ashes, and the drumming has long since ceased. Blue skies overhead promise a glorious day ahead, as far as the weather is concerned.

Then something catches your eye: on the tree where you carved your initials below those of your old adversary, there is now a freshly-carved MN. As hard as you find it to believe, that could only be Meredith Nowitki! Could it possibly be that she passed through while you were still sleeping — toting all of your brand-new gear — and carved her name in the tree just to taunt you? You step out onto the narrow footpath and sure enough, there are now new boot prints in the mud, left by someone with feet much smaller than your own.

How infuriating! How aggravating! How humiliating! Not only did she steal your stuff, but she was following behind you so that you could lead her to the Stone of Vul-Kar! Why else would she be here? And now that you have overindulged in sleep, she has passed you by. What kind of a headstart does she have on you? Minutes? Hours?

Extremely displeased with yourself, you hurriedly take down the tarp and pack up the few things you have. You remember well Berringer's rage yesterday morning when he learned that Meredith, his erstwhile "acquisition" from the Boston Globe, had deserted him — and you can only imagine how much worse it would be if you let her get to his prize first. You are so angry that you start to contemplate ways that gun of his might come in useful after all.

The best you can do for breakfast is a couple more pepperoni sticks; maybe tonight, with Meredith permanently out of the way, you'll have all of your stuff back so you can enjoy something a little less gas-inducing. Then you shoulder the black book bag and set off for the mountain.

Her tracks are easy to follow, although in retrospect so were yours, too, probably. Beyond the campsite, the rugged footpath continues climbing through the high-elevation brush, the mud softer than ever, like black cookie batter. Meredith must have been inspired to move swiftly, because you see no sign of her. Who would believe that someone who spent the last three years trailing Walter Berringer around a baseball stadium in high heels would be so adept at climbing a mountain?

But then the trail runs cold when the vegetation ends and the way forward is nothing but bare rock. You can trace Meredith's steps only for about six paces, where the mud from her boots left an obvious track, but then nothing after that. You're not even sure where the actual trail goes; the best you can do is continue climbing at the same angle, and hope that some sign presents itself.

What you find a moment later is a wall of rock blocking your way. Looking back, you can still see where the trail exited the forest, with a direct line of travel leading to where you are now. To the best of your tracking ability, this is where you're supposed to be, so you scout your options. By circling a bit to the left, you find a rope ladder dangling down the rock face — the surest sign that you are on the correct trail. But the fibrous rope looks old and weathered, and you are not sure you can trust it to hold your weight. The only other option would be to scale the rock face itself. The wall isn't quite vertical, and the surface seems coarsely textured with just enough subtle imperfections to make footholds and handholds theoretically plentiful, but you can't tell for sure from below.

__________________________________________________
> You use the ladder.
You have to assume that Meredith used the ladder, and the ropes might not be as weak as you fear. Yes, it looks old, but that doesn't automatically mean the ladder won't hold. And climbing it will certainly be much faster than trying to scale the rock wall.

So you grab hold of the parallel ropes and hoist yourself onto the first rung. It holds, although you still see a dozen different ways this endeavor could go wrong. The ropes do feel sturdy, but damp; the rungs are just sticks, and you inspect each one for signs of weakness before you advance one more step. Overall the ladder is fifty feet tall, and it flops about against the rock as you slowly climb up. The ropes are holding, which is good, because until you reach the top of the small cliff they will be the only things keeping you from falling.

"Well there you are, sleepy head!"

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you look up. Meredith is at the top of the ladder, sticking her head out over the edge.

"I tried not to wake you," she continues. "You looked so comfy under that blue tarp thingy."

"Meredith, what the heck are you doing here?" you say. Of all the places she picked to have this confrontation; you are still twenty feet shy of the top, with thirty feet of space below you. The rope ladder refuses to stay still, swaying with every little movement of your body.

"I was waiting for you, of course," she says. "I knew you'd be coming this way sooner or later. I just didn't realize it would be this late."

"No, I meant what are doing here, on Woban Island?"

"For the same thing you are, obviously. Can't a girl treat herself every now and then? That gem will make me wealthier than it will make you — you let yourself get hired by the wrong collector. I needed you yesterday to point me in the right direction, but now that I see the way to go, your services are no longer required."

"Meredith, we need to talk," you say.

"No, I don't think so. I like this knife I found in your pack, by the way."

She holds out the six-inch knife you've been keeping in your backpack for years; although you don't use it often, you are pretty good at keeping the blade sharpened. It disgusts you to see her brandishing it now.

"I was playing with this earlier," Meredith continues "and I'm certain this thing could cut through these ropes like butter. Here, let's find out."

There are lots of things about this situation that you don't understand, but you know she is right about the knife. As she applies it to the top of the rope ladder, you wonder if it would be better to try and climb up or down in the seconds before she slices through the two bundles of fiber. Ultimately it doesn't matter; when both ropes are cut, you experience the most horrific moment ever as you tumble toward the rocks below. The ground there is slanted, and you know there is zero chance you will stick the landing. Even if you do survive the initial fall — and then the two-hundred-foot tumble that is sure to follow — there won't be too much left of you.

THE END


The idea occurs to you that the cave may have some kind of significance, and this is why the Wobans are here — perhaps they are guarding it. This piques your curiosity. Of course, all of this is just a theory and you have no real idea who those Wobans are or what their purpose is, but with no maps to follow — and with a personal taste for adventure that is about a mile wide — you feel compelled to explore the cave.

The irony is that if the Wobans are here to guard the cave, they're doing a poor job of it. The cave's entrance is turned slightly away from the clearing, so they cannot even see it from where they are playing their little game of tiddlywinks or whatever. A growth of grass and small brushy plants provides just enough cover for you to crouch low and step softly between your boulder and the clear-water stream flowing out of the cave.

"He aha kela kani?" says one of the Wobans to his companions.

"‘O kau e lohe nei, ‘o wau ke lanakila nei i keia pa‘ani. E kiola i kou pohaku a pani i kou waha," someone responds.

"Aole. Lohe wau i kekahi mea e ne‘e ana."

"He mea li‘ili‘i paha kahi holoholona e ‘uwu ana i ka mau‘u. Pono ‘oe e pa‘ani i ka pa‘ani a ha‘alele i ke kama‘ilio ‘ana."

The mouth of the cave is wide, and you can feel its coolness before you even step inside. Immediately you are glad you came here, as you are now surrounded by moisture and hidden from the harsh sun — the exact opposite conditions from where you just were. You pause for a moment as your eyes adjust to the dim light, and then you continue on; you may have just snuck past the Woban guards successfully, but you would still prefer to put some distance between you.

You quickly realize that this cave is a lava tube — a tunnel-like passage carved through the hillside during an ancient eruption. It angles gently upward, with the stream fanning out across the rock floor. Up ahead is nothing but darkness, so just before you lose sight of the little bit of daylight coming in through the entrance, you stop to fish out Captain Mark's palm-sized plastic flashlight from the backpack.

Except for the uphill grade, following the lava tube is like exploring an abandoned subway. The arched ceiling maintains almost consistent dimensions as the passageway snakes its way through the rocky core of the island, giving it a man-made appearance. But where is it leading? You have no idea how good the batteries are in the flashlight, and you'd hate to be stranded here in the dark. Excitement propels you forward; anxiety has you hoping an exit appears soon.

What you do find is a fork, with passages branching to the left and right. So now what? Both are equally dark, and your first impression is that there is no difference between them, other than direction. You step into the space between the twin tunnels, lick your fingertip, and stick it into the air. Although it's subtle, there is a draft of air coming from the left tunnel, and heat coming from the right — would that be heat from outdoors, maybe? The stream that you have been following has dwindled to just a trickle, but you can see now that it flows from the left-hand tunnel.

This is all very interesting, but in a moment of sobriety you realize that Walter Berringer didn't send you here to go spelunking. Maybe you should go back the way you came, hoping that the Wobans have left so that you can resume your hike along the trail.

__________________________________________________
> You take the right tunnel.
The heat coming from the right tunnel convinces you that this must be the way back to the surface, where the air was blisteringly hot earlier today as you hiked across the ridgeline. These lava tubes are interesting, and it looks like coming here was an ingenious way to get past those three Wobans down below, but your real purpose is to find the island's highest mountain. It's time to resume that journey, so if the right-hand tunnel is going to lead you back up to ground level then that is the smartest way to go.

But the tunnel does not seem to lead anywhere quickly; you follow it for more than fifteen minutes without seeing much of anything different compared to the previous lava tube. The one distinction is that this branch does less climbing, as if it were leading you deeper inside one of the island's small mountains rather than paralleling the slope. It is indeed warmer here, but the source of that heat is not evident; with no stream trickling past your feet the entire place seems less enchanting and more desolate.

You are torn between the competing thoughts of going forward and turning back. You've come so far already that the idea of giving up now seems distasteful; for all you know the exit to the surface may be just around the next bend, or the next. If that turns out to be the case, it means that it would be longer to go back than it would to go forward. But at the same time, that nagging sense that you've been wasting your time here won't go away. The simple fact is that you have no way of knowing which way is best, thus putting your tortured brain into a state of paralysis due to insufficient information.

Hold on — what's that sound?

All this time that you've been exploring the lava tube, the sounds of your footsteps have been echoing off the rock walls surrounding you. But when you stopped a moment ago to ponder your options, the "echoes" made two extra steps. Could it be that someone has been following you all this time?

The idea of encountering a Woban deep in this endless lava tube is terrifying. Where is your escape route? Who will find your remains? You feel as though you have been unwittingly walking deeper and deeper into a trap, all the while congratulating yourself for evading the three Wobans standing guard at the entrance. You are such a fool.

Flicking off the flashlight in your hand, you wait quietly in the utter darkness for further sounds that someone is behind you. It is not a long wait — and not only do you hear the other person approaching, but soon you see the glow of another flashlight on the tunnel walls. It's not a Woban following you, but one of the other collectors! It remains to be seen which is more dangerous.

You remember the pistol that Berringer pressed into your hand this morning; it's been in your pack ever since you left the Big Papi, where you've forgotten all about it. Normally you'd want nothing to do with a firearm, on the theory that if you shoot at someone first and miss, they'll just shoot at you back, thus making a bad situation worse. But here you feel trapped and vulnerable, and that little handgun may be your only way out of this predicament.

By the time the other person comes into view around the last bend in the lava tube, Berringer's pistol is in your hands, and your finger is hooked around the trigger. Your shadow has not spoken a word, and perhaps doesn't even know yet that you're standing right in front of them. Whoever it is, they are wearing a headlamp; the light they have been using to find their way emanates from their forehead like an LED halo, partially blinding you and leaving the person wearing it in the shadows.

"Who are you, and why have you been following me?" you say. Your voice echoes weirdly off the walls, to the point where you hardly recognize the way you sound.

The other person says nothing, but comes to a dead stop. You see the headlamp beam sweeping up and settling on your location, leaving you to assume that the person wearing it had been focusing on where they were stepping, and hadn't seen you until just now.

When there is no response, you hold up the gun in front of you. "Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot."

"Fat chance. We all know you don't carry." The other person's voice echoes just as much as yours; it sounds familiar, but all you can determine through the reverberation is that your shadow is a woman.

Behind the glare of her headlamp, you are sure you see the person reaching for a gun of her own. So before this turns into a standoff in the dark, you impulsively fire the first shot…

…and the results are exactly what you've always feared they would be. Your shot doesn't miss its target, but all it does is graze her as she jumps to safety. Her shot, on the other hand, finds its mark with no problem. You collapse to the ground, darkness overtaking you before you ever learn the identity of who it was who has just bested you.

THE END