text: 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.
  
  __________________________________________________
  > 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.
  
  __________________________________________________
  > 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.
  
  __________________________________________________
  > 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.
  
  __________________________________________________
  > 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."
  
  __________________________________________________
  > 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.
  
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  "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