shoulders. The beam illuminated a T-shaped opening in the tall circular wall, which framed a staircase that descended into the kiva. It reminded Bradley of a miniature coliseum with the rings of stone bleachers that encircled the main ceremonial stage. Three rectangles of flat rocks had been stacked a foot high to either side and toward the rear of the weed-riddled earth like primitive planting boxes roughly the size of graves. A mound of dirt and sandstone chunks lorded over the one directly ahead of them. The flashlight stained the pall of dust seeping from the hole.
'We found the first stair about three feet down.' Reaves nodded toward the pit and shined his light onto a stone staircase that vanished into the darkness. He hopped down into the hole and spotlighted the narrow channel. Bradley covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief to keep from breathing the dust and followed Reaves underground. 'It took nearly another month to excavate the remainder of the staircase and remove the stones they had used to seal off this chamber.'
Reaves led him into what appeared to be a natural cave. The walls and ceiling were rounded and scarred by dozens of petroglyphs, all of which featured massive centipedes with enormous pincers attacking stick-figure representations of men and animals alike.
'The Anasazi considered depictions of the centipede to be taboo,' Reaves said. 'They believed it to be a powerful symbol of the transition between the world of the living and the land of the dead. The mere act of drawing it on these walls would have been considered sacrilegious.'
Bradley stared at the violent images for a moment before pressing on. Cobwebs swayed overhead and hung to either side where they'd been severed. Potsherds littered the floor amid a scattering of grains and gravel. Reaves stepped to his right and directed the beam at a heap of bones at his feet. They were disarticulated, shattered, and scattered in no discernible order.
'They're human,' Bradley said.
'This wasn't a burial,' Reaves said. 'This was a willful desecration.'
'Who would have done something like this?'
'They did it themselves. We believe it was part of a ritual designed to trap the evil spirits down here when they sealed the kiva.'
Bradley knelt and inspected the bones. There was no residual blood or tissue, and the marrow had been scraped out. He couldn't fathom the correlation to their project.
'That's not what I brought you here to see.' Reaves pointed the beam at the back wall, where a jumble of rocks marked a shadowed orifice. He turned the Maglite around and offered it to Bradley. 'I'll let you do the honors.'
Bradley took the heavy flashlight and started toward the opening. He had to scale the fallen stones and duck his head to enter. Fractured segments of bone guided him deeper into the tunnel, which constricted around him, forcing him to stoop.
'We found the rock barricade exactly like you saw it,' Reaves said from behind him, his voice made hollow by the acoustics. 'Not neatly unstacked, but toppled. We suspect it was knocked down from this side, by something that desperately wanted to get to the meat inside the main chamber.'
'They buried live animals down here?'
'Just keep going,' Reaves said.
Bones cracked under Bradley's tread and threw uneven shadows across the stone floor. He ran his fingertips along the wall, which had distinct ridges as though carved by sharp, thin implements. The leading edge of the beam diffused into a larger cave ahead of him. The faintest hint of the orange sunset slanted through gaps in the low ceiling. It appeared as though a rockslide had sealed a natural entrance. Motes of dust sparkled all around him.
The ground was covered with piles of bones. Entire ribcages. Cracked skulls. Shattered pelvises and femora. Both human and animal. The mounds were tangled with hair and fur. It looked like a bear's den.
Time had leeched the stench of fresh kill, leaving the musty, mildewed smell of a crypt.
'At the back of the chamber,' Reaves whispered. 'On the other side of the remains.'
Bradley had to remove the handkerchief from his face to balance on the bones. The flashlight beam swept across the desiccated figures propped against the cavern wall, casting vaguely hominid shadows onto the sandstone.
'They sealed them in here when they abandoned the pueblo,' Reaves said softly, almost reverentially. 'And shortly thereafter started building high up on the sheer cliffs to the northwest.'
'There are more than enough bones here to assemble fifty skeletons,' Bradley said.
He crouched in front of the only two intact carcasses in the chamber. They were gaunt, their flesh mummified, parchment skin stretched across knobby bones, cloaked in shadows. He raised the flashlight toward their faces---
'Jesus!'
Bradley toppled backward onto the bones and scrabbled away from the bodies.
'This is why the Anasazi fled Chaco Canyon,' Reaves said. He clapped Bradley on the shoulder. 'Like I said, you wouldn't have believed me if I'd told you.'
Two
The deep sea submersible cruised over a mat of gray lava pillows the size of boulders, twenty-two hundred meters beneath the surface of the Pacific Ocean. Far off in the murky black distance rose the rugged rim of the Kilinailau Trench, formed by the subduction of the Pacific tectonic plate beneath the Bismarck microplate. Their movement resulted in a steady flow of magma and geothermal heat from the Earth's molten core. Forty-five hundred watts of HMI lights mounted on an array of booms, enough to nearly illuminate an entire football stadium, turned the water a midnight blue. Jagged crests of mineral and ore deposits appeared at the extent of the light's reach, where they abruptly climbed hundreds of meters back toward the sun.
After close to four hours of freefall in absolute blackness and another two skimming the bottom of the world, they had finally reached their destination.
The Basilisk Vent Field was a hotbed of geological activity. Seawater that leeched through the silt was superheated, suffused with toxic chemicals and minerals, and funneled back into the ocean at more than seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit through tall chimneys called hydrothermal vents. Seven main chimneys, nicknamed black smokers for the noxious plumes of water that poured out of them like the smoke from a tire fire, were staggered across Basilisk. It was one such formation, a more recent eruption named Medusa, that had summoned them more than a mile down to where the pressure could crumple a man in tin can fashion. Over the last twenty days, intermittent seismic activity had already toppled two of the older chimneys and increased the ambient water temperature by two degrees, which may not have seemed significant to the average man on the street, but
