One advantage to being Department Head was that he could select which classes he wanted to teach, and this second-year class held more than the usual number of keen and promising students.

As Eli Stoddard entered the room he glanced around, noting that the only absentee was the class troublemaker.

There's always one, he thought as he did every day, unable to decide whether he did hope the young man really was absenting himself or if he were resigned to the habitually five-minutes-late-in-an-apparent-attempt-to-make-a point student breezing in, scowling as if to challenge Stoddard to make something of it.

Just what point Bob Gemmell thought he was making, though, was something Stoddard still found unclear, even as he half wished that it was possible to refuse to have the student -- a football jock who had to take some classes to get the academic credits he needed -- in any of his classes.

There was room in this class, though, and someone had to have him; and Stoddard was loath to give up on even the most difficult student.

He opened his folder of notes for the lecture. Not that he needed them; this was a lecture he could have given in his sleep. But over the years he had learned that it was sometimes useful to appear to be checking on something in his notes, as well as teaching by example that there was no disgrace in having, and referring to, notes. Just as he looked up again the door opened and the missing Gemmell sauntered in, insolence in his every move. He closed the door with a briskness that fell just short of a slam and, totally ignoring Stoddard, he strutted his way to his desk.

Stoddard paid no attention to him, knowing that doing so would gain him points in the undeclared war between them, while utterly frustrating Gemmell.

He looked calmly around at the students who for over a year had been learning about different cultures in remote corners of the world, and asked, "What exactly is anthropology?"

Blair Sandburg took the book he needed from the shelf and moved quietly to the table he usually occupied in Rainier's main library.

It was smaller than any of the other tables, tucked away in a quiet corner out of sight of most of the room, and not many students ever seemed to use it; indeed, he doubted that many of them even knew it was there. He had discovered it years previously, and had made it his own; in this corner, the distractions offered by the library were minimal.

In addition, since the table was mostly out of sight, it kept him out of sight. To himself he could admit that he was hiding, at least to some degree; he flatly refused to admit it to anyone else.

Not that he'd had much trouble from the people who knew him, but he had heard whispers. Only one student had actually asked him about his 'fake' dissertation; to which he pointed out that he had not submitted it to the University, and even if he had, there was no way he could have defended it. He had simply wasted his time writing a piece of fiction because he had been unwilling to let his interest in sentinels go. The University authorities had accepted that, hence his continued presence while he worked on a genuine dissertation subject.

He had never, in the past, had occasion to check up on what the university library carried in the way of books on the police; he had been pleasantly surprised to discover, when he did need them, just how many such books were available to him.

He opened his notebook, opened the book he had selected at the relevant chapter, and buried himself in it.

"Blair!"

Blair jumped, his heart pounding, the adrenaline rush from the surprise he got taking some moments to dissipate.

He looked up at the man who had spoken, and grinned. "Eli. Sorry, I was miles away."

"I know. I had to call you three times before you heard me. How're you doing?"

Blair shrugged. "It's coming, though not as fast as I'd like."

"That wasn't what I asked. How are you doing?"

"Oh. Fine."

Stoddard looked at him. "Truth?"

Damn. Stoddard knew him altogether too well. "Near enough. I mean, I should have let the sentinel thing go -- oh, three years ago. I realized quite soon after I started working with Jim that if the world learned of his abilities... well, it wasn't a good idea. I deserve at least some fallout for my bad judgment in not changing my dissertation topic back then."

Stoddard grunted, a non-committal sound that could have meant anything. "Actually, Blair, I'm here to ask a favor."

"Anything I can do, of course."

"I'm organizing a field trip to a dig in the Cascades."

Blair frowned. "I don't think I've heard about a dig?"

"It's being kept pretty quiet -- you know how the Indian tribes feel about having the bones of their ancestors disturbed."

"Oh, man -- it's not, like, on sacred ground?"

"No. In fact, it's so old that I don't think any of the tribes could lay claim to these bones being of their ancestors -- we're talking an estimated twenty thousand years old, here."

"Twenty... And positive proof? Considering how controversial some of the anthropology of North America is... Wow."

"Professor Meechan is an old friend of mine; he's hoping this dig will be the definitive proof that homo sapiens came over the Siberian land bridge twenty thousand plus years ago, rather than around sixteen thousand."

Blair grunted. "That date comes from some findings in Pennsylvania, doesn't it?"

Stoddard nodded. "But what it doesn't allow for is the time it would take for a tribe to migrate from the land bridge to relatively near the east coast."

"Which would have taken them... oh, a couple of thousand years at least, if you base the rate of migration on ten miles per generation, and assuming they were moving on all the time. Possibly longer, if at any point they stayed put for a few generations."

"And that pushes the date a lot closer to that twenty thousand year mark," Stoddard finished. "I know the evidence for earlier settlement of the Americas is scarce, but I've never quite understood the reluctance of some people to accept that carbon dating of twenty-one thousand years ago in Mexico as a sign of a very early wave of settlement."

Blair nodded. "I think even among anthropologists there's a certain reluctance to think of the people of twenty thousand years ago as being advanced enough to have a proper culture -- all evidence to the contrary. Some of them see the words 'Stone Age' and think of some of today's Stone Age cultures that have been pushed into such inhospitable areas that it takes them all their time to survive, let alone produce anything like the artifacts we sometimes find. Just who they think produced those if not Stone Age cultures, I can't imagine."

"I knew I was preaching to the converted," Stoddard laughed. "Anyway, my current second-year class is surprisingly open to the idea of archaeological anthropology, so I've arranged for them to visit the dig. I know it's early in the university year, but they'll be shutting up shop for the winter at the end of October, and I want to include material from it in this year's schedule.

"I need another qualified adult along, and the Chancellor agreed that you were the best person -- that is if you agree."

"I'm interested, certainly -- what exactly is involved?"

"Well, it'll be a three-day trip. It's too far to get there, do justice to the site and get home again in one day, so I've decided to use one day to get there, one day there and home on the third day. We'll be seeing some excavation work, which may or may not produce anything while we're there, as well as seeing some of what has already been discovered -- a few bone tools, some stone artifacts, some animal bones showing signs of having been butchered, a couple of burials."

"Burials? Hey..."

Stoddard nodded. "Only fragments, of course. Both were young children."

"Sometimes you'd wonder that the race survived, there are so many child deaths in Stone Age cultures." Blair thought for a moment. "The class does know they aren't going to be seeing anything actually spectacular?"

"Oh yes, I made sure of that."

Blair rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. "I'm definitely interested, Eli, but I'll have to check with Jim -- he might need me at the PD. When are you planning on going?"

"Not until next week -- leaving mid-morning on Tuesday."

"I'll check with Jim tonight and let you know in the morning."

Jim's truck was already there when Blair arrived home. He ran up the stairs, unsurprised to see the door open for him.

"Hi, Jim."

"Chief." The single word was full of quiet affection that never failed to set Blair's heart pounding as he wondered how he had ever deserved this happiness.

Blair moved into Jim's arms and turned his face up for a kiss. They clung together for some moments, then Jim released his partner. "Dinner'll be ready in about ten minutes."

"Right." As Blair headed for the bathroom, he added, "I had an interesting day today. Tell you about it over dinner."

Quarter of an hour later, as they began their meal, Jim said, "So what happened?"

"Eli asked me to go with him on a field trip next week. Tuesday to Thursday. The class he's taking is big enough that he needs another qualified adult along."

"Three days? That's quite a while for a field trip."

"Yeah, but it's a couple of hundred miles away, and the roads aren't very good -- it's probably at least a five-hour drive. They'll see something on the Tuesday afternoon, have a discussion in the evening, have all day Wednesday at the dig and get home again early Thursday afternoon."

"So are you going?"

"I told him I'd need to check with you first. I'd certainly like to go -- partly because it should be interesting, and partly because I think I owe Eli one -- and Chancellor Konoe. There aren't that many people at Rainier Eli could ask without inconveniencing someone, when you think about it. But if you think you'll need me, then I'll tell him no."

"I'll miss you, Chief. Two nights without you?"

Blair laughed. "That was a consideration too, believe me!"

"But I think you should go. Just make sure you take your cell phone... fully charged! And stay out of trouble."

"Jim, how much trouble can I get into on a university field trip to a well-organized dig?"

"Knowing you... plenty!"

They finished their meal, washed the dishes and settled down in front of the television, Jim slipping an arm around Blair's shoulders. Blair leaned back into the embrace, reaching up to grasp Jim's hand. "Love you," he said softly.

Jim nuzzled his partner's hair. "Love you too," he breathed, "oh, Blair." Pulling Blair close, Jim took the mouth which opened to him willingly. He wrapped his tongue around Blair's, caressing it thoroughly, before finally pulling away.

"If I have to do without you for two nights, I want to start making up for it right now. Come to bed?"

"You got it," Blair smiled.

They separated reluctantly, but neither was so besotted as to neglect any part of their evening routine of securing the loft. Door, windows, fire... each had his responsibilities, worked out over the years, and it took only a few minutes before they met again at the foot of the stairs. Jim took Blair's hand and pulled him up to the bedroom, then swung him around into his arms. Blair moved contentedly into the familiar embrace and they kissed again, each savoring the taste of the other.

"Off..." Jim fumbled, one-handed, at Blair's clothes.

Blair took a deep breath, as unwilling to release his grip as Jim clearly was. He forced control on himself. "Then let go of me, Jim." His voice was hardly any steadier than Jim's. Jim grunted, and obeyed. As Blair stripped, Jim struggled out of his own clothes, handicapped by trying to keep his eyes fixed on Blair while he did.

Finally, they collapsed onto the bed, skin pressed to skin as their mouths met again, tongues exploring for a long time, savoring the territory well known.

Click on the picture to see a larger version. (33k)

"Love me," Jim whispered. "Always." Blair leaned over his partner, placing light, teasing kisses all over his face and neck before moving down to lick at a nipple. Jim moaned softly and arched into the caress. Blair bit on the nipple, just hard enough for Jim to feel it, making the older man gasp. He then turned his attention to the other nipple, licking and sucking on it as his fingers played with the one his mouth had just left. Jim's hands cupped his partner's buttocks, pulling him down to press hard cock to hard cock; Blair wriggled just a little, the touch of his lover's cock too intense not to let him caress it with his own, just briefly, before he pulled away to lick his way on down Jim's body. He kissed the skin around the swollen penis, then sucked on Jim's testicles, first one then the other, before returning his attention to Jim's mouth. "You know," he murmured, punctuating his words with kisses, "if anyone... had told me... before... that I'd... be doing this... I... wouldn't have... believed... didn't think... never thought..."

Jim moved one hand to cup Blair's head. He thrust his tongue into Blair's mouth again and plundered it hungrily. "Better believe it now, Chief," he murmured, before surrendering to Blair's caresses again.

Blair returned his attention to the swollen penis. He licked it sensuously, root to tip, then took just the head into his mouth, running his tongue lightly over it before probing the tiny slit with the tip of his tongue. Jim gasped. "Oh, that's good! That's... Uuungh!" He exploded into Blair's mouth.

Blair swallowed quickly and, ignoring his own need, lay still for some moments, just holding the spent and softening penis in his mouth. Then giving it a final lick, he raised his head, looking at Jim's relaxed face with more than a little self-satisfaction.

Jim lay motionless for some moments -- then blinked and turned a soft smile at him. "Blair -- make love to me."

"Jim, what have I just been doing?"

Jim spread his legs. "Come inside me, Chief. Take me."

Blair stared at Jim. "To the stars?" he asked softly.

Jim nodded.

Kissing Jim gently, Blair turned to reach for the tube of lube. Carefully, without haste, he prepared himself and his lover, just as Jim had done with him, marveling at the way Jim's relaxed body easily accommodated his ministrations.

He positioned himself, cock pressing against Jim's hole, and pushed gently... without result.

Oh, hell. This wasn't as easy as Jim had made it seem!

As he wondered just what he was doing wrong, he rubbed the tip of his cock against Jim, as if he were deliberately delaying, extending the foreplay. Suddenly, he remembered his first time with a girl -- then, too, he'd had a problem with the initial entry, until by sheer chance he had wriggled enough to...

Almost casually, he repositioned himself, changing the angle of entry slightly... without result.

"Blair," Jim groaned. "For God's sake... stop teasing me! I need... Please!"

Blair panted, "Sorry, Jim -- can't get it in..."

Jim groped between their bodies, finding Blair's cock. He curled his fingers around it, positioned it... "Push!" he gasped.

Blair pushed... felt something yielding. A little additional pressure, and this time he slid easily into Jim's body. His breath hissed as Jim's rectum tightened around him -- was this how Jim felt when he was buried inside him? Mmm... only with the sense of touch he had, Jim probably felt it even more acutely...

He leaned down until his body was pressed against Jim's, supporting his weight on his arms. He lay motionless for a moment, enjoying the tightness, the clasp of Jim's anus on his cock, the sensation so different from when he had been inside a woman. Jim had made this so good for him, he wanted to make it as good for Jim. He felt almost unbearable responsibility, horribly aware of his total lack of experience with this form of lovemaking.

He moved experimentally, pulling out a little then thrusting gently. He felt his cock rubbing over something that made Jim gasp, "Yes! Oh god, Blair, do that again!" -- and he knew he had found Jim's prostate.

Blair paused to regain the self-control that was getting more than jagged around the edges, and licked a nipple again. Jim moaned, arching into the caress.

He desperately wanted to THRUST, to bring himself quickly to climax, but he knew that would deny Jim a lot of the pleasure he wanted -- no, needed -- to give his partner; he was terrified that he might get so carried away by his own pleasure that he accidentally, and without realizing it, hurt Jim.

He began thrusting, but s-l-o-w-l-y, more slowly than Jim had taken him, teasing himself, concentrating on rubbing against Jim's prostate, enjoying the whimpered gasps that Jim was completely unable to restrain, loving the way he was so completely destroying his partner's self-control, knowing that he would never abuse the trust Jim had given him. He fought the already strong and fiercely growing urge to speed up and achieve his own satisfaction, knowing only that he had to give Jim the most rewarding loving possible.

Jim was hardening again, but Blair chose to ignore the swelling erection for the moment, guessing that attention to it as well as the stimulation on his prostate would be too much for Jim's senses. Jim was wailing now, softly and continuously, "Blairblairblairblairblair..." The sound was almost too much for Blair's control; he had to force himself to continue moving slowly and steadily.

"Love you," he murmured. "Jim... oh, Jim, I love you... love you... love you... love you..." With each repetition of "love," he thrust -- deep, deeper, wanting to bury himself completely inside his partner...

Jim gave a strangled cry and climaxed again, though only a little semen spurted onto his stomach, his muscles tightening fiercely, almost painfully tightly, around Blair's cock. It completely destroyed Blair's fragile control. As Jim relaxed again, he thrust quickly, once, twice, and exploded into ecstasy.

They lay still for what seemed far too short a time until Blair's penis softened enough to slide out of Jim's body. Grabbing a bunch of tissues, Blair cleaned them both, dropping the crumpled handful in the general direction of the waste basket.

Then he laid his head on Jim's shoulder with a quiet sigh.

"Was that all right, Jim?" he asked.

Wordlessly, Jim brought up a hand to cradle Blair's head, letting the silence stretch out comfortably between them. At last, Jim said softly, "Beyond the stars, Blair. Beyond the stars."

Cuddled together, completely relaxed, utterly content, they slept.

It began to rain during Sunday night; a heavy, unrelenting downpour that even by Cascade's standards was extreme. The rain continued unabated through Monday, and the enthusiasm of the class that met on Tuesday morning at Rainier was certainly dampened -- literally as well as metaphorically -- by it.

Jim dropped Blair off at Rainier with two bags; a duffel bag containing clothes and a sleeping bag he would need for the trip, and his smaller backpack. Jim had personally -- and unnecessarily -- checked that Blair's cell phone was fully charged, and that it was safely in the backpack.

The bus was already there, with Stoddard checking off names as the party assembled. He exchanged a few words with them before turning away to check in two more students.

"Remember to phone tonight, tomorrow night if possible and when you're on the way home," Jim reminded his partner.

"I promise," Blair said.

Jim ruffled Blair's hair, his touch gentler than it looked. "Enjoy yourself."

They had said their proper goodbyes before leaving the loft; this was simply going through the motions of 'being dropped off by a friend' for the benefit of the students.

The bus driver slid Blair's duffel bag into the trunk beside the dozen or so that were already there, and Blair climbed on board and slipped into a front seat while Jim returned to the truck -- it was altogether too wet to stand around.

It wouldn't have surprised Stoddard if Bob Gemmell had failed to turn up although the class had been warned that not only did he plan to incorporate material from it in that year's work, they would be tested on the trip as well, the mark to count towards their final grade for the year; and he had already decided that the bus would leave exactly on time. If habitually-five-minutes-late Gemmell was late, he would be too late. If anything, Stoddard was half-hoping that Gemmell would be late enough to miss the bus; the trip would certainly be more pleasant without him.

Gemmell was on time, however; only just, though he was not the last. He joined the party with an extremely sullen look on his face, almost as if he felt he was letting himself down by being on time. Stoddard ignored that with the same apparent ease with which he ignored all the boy's late arrivals. He noted, however, that Gemmell took a seat by himself, and nobody called to him to join them; nor did the student who was last aboard -- "Sorry I'm so late, Professor; there was an accident and the direct road was closed. Dad had to take a longer route." -- show any sign of wanting to sit beside him.

It confirmed what Stoddard had already realized: nobody in the class liked the football jock, not even the three others from the team also taking anthropology.

He did a quick final check on the number of students on the bus and nodded to the driver. Blair exchanged a last wave with Jim as the bus drove off, and Stoddard sat beside Blair with a faint sigh of relief now that the trip was finally under way.

Only the first hour was driven at a decent speed; when the bus turned onto the side road that led -- eventually -- to the dig, its speed slackened considerably. The narrow and barely used side road was in serious need of repair, and the passengers were bumped uncomfortably as the bus climbed higher and higher.

Blair was relieved to realize that by the sheer chance of sitting where he could wave goodbye to Jim, he was now on the uphill side of the road; when he glanced forwards -- which he was carefully trying to avoid doing most of the time -- he was aware of how steeply the hillside dropped away from the road, how far down it was to the river that flowed along the floor of the valley they were following.

Finally they reached the head of the long valley, and the ground leveled off a considerable amount. After a while, the bus turned up another side road, even worse than the one they had been on. The surface was badly broken up -- this 'road' was really only a potholed track. The bus slowed to a crawl -- going at little more than walking speed.

It was probably no more than ten miles from the end of the road to the dig, but it took nearly as long to cover it as it had taken to drive the rest of the way.

They were met by a thin man who was so short that he made Blair, as he left the bus with Stoddard, feel reasonably tall. The students, after looking at the continuing downpour, decided to remain in the bus till they were told they should leave it.

"Hello, Eli!"

"Howard!" Stoddard shook Meechan's hand. "Blair, this is Howard Meechan -- Howard, Blair Sandburg. A few years ago, Blair was one of my best students -- he's working now for his PhD."

"Nice to meet you, Blair." They shook hands. "Sorry about the weather -- if you'd come last week, it was nice and dry and you would've had the chance to see a lot more."

Blair grinned. "You can't live in this area without getting used to the rain... Eli says you have some twenty thousand year old remains here?"

Meechan chuckled. "Well, we're hoping so, but we need to get a bit more evidence before we can make a positive claim about that." He glanced at the older man. "I see what you mean about 'best student', Eli. He's barely here, and already he's asking questions! You'll see something of what we've found as soon as you've had a chance to get settled and something to eat."

They called the students off the bus and Meechan led them to two big tents. "Dormitory accommodation, I'm afraid," he said. "Men in this one, women in the other. I've arranged for two of our women to sleep in with the girls, Eli, as we decided."

"Thanks."

The actual dig covered a fairly wide area; the part currently being worked on was shielded from the elements by tarpaulins draped over long poles. Even so, rain water was running along the ground and seeping in under the covers, making the actual working area unpleasantly muddy.

"We're not really doing much digging in these conditions," Meechan said apologetically, "but I do have a couple of volunteers to show you how we go about the work."

The group watched as two young men carefully troweled away the surface soil; one of them suddenly said, "Ha!" -- and reached for a notebook, did a quick sketch and scribbled a few words, then picked up what looked like a piece of antler. He looked up at the watching students.

"You're in luck, being here when we found something," he said, holding it up. "As you can see, this has been worked."

The antler had a thin slit and narrow groove carved around the one end. "This probably used to be the handle for some kind of knife. The blade would have been made from a thin piece of bone rubbed along one side to make a cutting edge, with the two bits held together by a cord of some kind, possibly sinew. If we're really lucky, the blade is around here somewhere as well."

The students passed the artifact around, some of them looking at it more closely than others. Blair noticed that Gemmell watched as it was handed around, but when it reached him, he passed it on with only a cursory glance, then he continued to watch as it moved on.

Hmm. He already knew that this was Eli's problem student; it seemed that the young man might have more problems than Eli had guessed. He made a mental note to mention it to the older man.

During the evening he had the opportunity to see what Stoddard meant when he said that this class was very open to the idea of archaeology as a means of investigating anthropology; for as little as they had actually seen, the discussion session went well, most of the students clearly happy to discuss what discoveries like the knife handle could mean. As a result of this, Blair found he had no chance of having a quiet word with Stoddard about anything as both men were pulled into more than one conversation about the site and its potential. He noticed however that several of the students who spoke with Stoddard made no attempt to speak to him, and he guessed that his 'reputation' was known and his opinion distrusted by at least some of the class. It was something he just had to accept.

Dinner was better than Blair had expected; dig cuisine was often very basic. Stoddard chuckled when the younger man commented on it.

"Howard likes his food," he said, with a sly glance at his friend. Meechan simply grinned, ignoring the obviously affectionate tease.

Blair's phone call to Jim was of necessity very short and totally unsatisfactory, since there was no way he could get privacy without also getting very wet. "Hi, Jim -- yes, everything's fine and what we've seen has been interesting -- a bit wet, it hasn't stopped raining -- yeah, me too. See you!"

The next day, putting on their still-wet clothes from the day before in order to keep one change of clothes dry, they made their way through the unceasing downpour to the big tent where the artifacts that had already been uncovered were carefully cleaned and stored, and Meechan explained in detail what each item was. The students took notes -- all but Gemmell, who continued to appear utterly uninterested, but Blair, still watching him when Gemmell thought himself unobserved, recognized in him a hunger for the information that he was apparently ignoring. At some point, he decided, as well as mentioning his thoughts to Stoddard, he must have a word with the young man.

Meechan and the other investigators working with the finds were all patient and helpful, answering the many questions posed to them. At last, as the questioning seemed to be dying down, Gemmell said in a very bored voice, "But what use is any of this? Does it really matter to anyone what happened twenty thousand years ago?"

There was a moment of dead silence, then Professor Meechan said quietly, "All knowledge is useful, young man. Astronomers say that Earth is overdue another big asteroid like the one that killed off the dinosaurs, volcanologists say the gigantic volcanic field of Yellowstone is overdue another massive eruption -- either of those could leave Earth suffering from a several-year-long winter with the sun unable to penetrate the resulting dust clouds, and that would trigger another ice age. Civilization as we know it could die literally overnight. If there is a record somewhere of the sort of life early man lived, what kind of tools he made, how he made them -- even if it's just inside the heads of anthropologists -- it would make it easier for the survivors of that sort of catastrophe to remake civilization because they wouldn't have to reinvent everything, including the most basic tools, from scratch.

"And on that note, I think it's time for lunch."

As the students, accompanied by the on-site anthropologists, began to make their way out of the tent, Blair watched Gemmell and once again noted that he was being virtually ostracized by the others, who clearly considered his question out of order. Then he turned to join Stoddard and Meechan, in time to hear Stoddard saying, " -- that. Gemmell is something of a problem student; I really don't know what to make of him."

"It's amazing how often a group you're talking to will have someone who delights in asking a question like that. I'm sure you have one or two standard responses that defuse that sort of 'prove your point' question."

Stoddard grunted his agreement as the three men made their way to the tent door. "I sometimes wish the sports students didn't have to get academic credits as well. Though three of the others are football players too, and they work hard enough in class."

"You do have a good class there, though -- apart from that one."

"I'm not so sure," Blair said quietly. "Were you watching him at all, Eli?"

Stoddard shook his head. "Not closely."

They left the tent and began to move briskly towards the mess tent. "It seemed to me --"

Blair broke off as Stoddard's foot slipped in the mud and he fell awkwardly, landing with a yelp. He twisted into a sitting position and sat looking up at his companions.

"You all right?" Blair asked.

"I hurt my ankle."

The two men helped Stoddard to his feet and supported him to Meechan's tent. There, Meechan carefully eased off Stoddard's shoe and ran assessing fingers over the injured ankle. "Just sprained, I think, but you'll want to see a doctor when you get back to Cascade."

"You don't have a medic on site?" Blair asked. "You're a long way from Cascade if anyone were hurt."

"Usual thing -- several of us are fully qualified in first aid," Meechan said as he began to wind a support bandage around the injured ankle.

Stoddard forced his foot into the shoe and fastened it loosely. "It'll do," he said, "but Blair, I'll have to ask you to do most of the running around for me for the rest of the trip."

Blair grinned. "No worries -- as an Australian colleague of Jim's would say."

The incident, however, had interrupted the conversation, and none of them thought to resume it as they went to eat.

During the afternoon, the students who wanted to try digging were given a brief opportunity to do so. Most did, though two of the girls decided they didn't want to get muddy and Gemmell, as always, stood back refusing to participate.

By the end of the day it was clear that several of the party weren't just interested, but had already decided that they would like to pursue this aspect of their subject; despite the weather. Stoddard told Blair that he considered the trip to have been an unqualified success.

They boarded the bus the following morning with obviously mixed feelings; some were clearly sorry to be leaving already, others had enjoyed it but had seen as much as they wanted to, at least in the rain, still others who had enjoyed the trip well enough were obviously relieved to be getting back to Cascade where they could change into totally dry clothes. Blair simply made sure that he claimed a seat that would be on the uphill side of the valley road...

Just before the bus left, Blair phoned Jim.

"Hi, it's me. Everything OK? -- Yeah, we're just leaving. We should be back in Cascade by about two, but I'll phone again when we hit the main road. That should be at one or thereabouts. See you."

The bus bumped slowly down the track, sliding occasionally in the mud, and the entire party breathed a sigh of relief when it eventually reached the valley road, which despite its potholes at least had the merit of being more or less surfaced.

They were about two hours from home, making quite good time down the long valley road, when without warning the engine cut out. The driver coasted to the side. He checked the engine, and shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Stoddard asked.

"Dunno," the man answered. "I'm not much of a mechanic. I'll have to call for the shop maintenance truck." He reached for his radio; and got no reply.

Blair took his cell phone from his pack, and dialed Jim. Nothing. He looked at it; no service. Damn! They were in a 'dead' zone, where it was impossible to make or receive a call.

"What's happening?" one of the students asked.

The driver shrugged. "I'm the driver, it's my responsibility to get you home... I'll have to start walking."

Blair said slowly, "It's pretty lousy weather, and it's a long way to the main road. Your chances of someone picking you up are nil -- we haven't seen any other vehicles on this road at all, in either direction, either day.

"I promised to phone home when we reached the main road. When he doesn't get a call by around one, my roommate is likely to come out here to check up on the bus. Come to that, when you don't report back, won't someone from the bus company drive out to see if there's a problem?"

"They'll call out the Highway Patrol to check on us," the driver admitted.

"Then I suggest you just wait it out with the rest of us."

They settled down for a long wait.

Blair turned his attention to the hillside beside the bus -- there wasn't much to see, but it was better than looking forwards and seeing the potential drop on the other side of the road. There were tiny streamlets trickling down and into a ditch -- muddier than he would have expected, he realized. A sudden movement caught his eye; a wolf stood on the hillside just above the bus, gazing upwards intently; then it turned and looked straight at him. Nobody else seemed to be aware of it... and then he realized that he could see the hillside through its body.

It was... It had to be his spirit guide, and it was telling him... Danger!

Even as he realized that, the wolf took a few steps back the way they had just come, then paused and looked directly at him again, just as a small shower of fairly liquid mud slipped down the hillside and into the ditch. And then he knew...

"Eli, we're in the path of a landslide!" he gasped. He pulled himself to his feet. "Everyone, get out of the bus! Now! As soon as you're out, start going back up the road, as fast as you can. Hurry!"

"Come on," someone groaned. "It's still raining, man."

"Do it!" Stoddard didn't waste time asking Blair how he knew. He glanced at the driver, who had clearly heard Blair's comment. "You go first. Lead the way."

Blair moved to the doorway and literally pushed the students out. Finally, only Stoddard and he were left -- and near the back of the bus, Bob Gemmell, sitting defiantly as if to say, 'I'm not doing anything you tell me.'

"Oh, good!" Blair said. "You're a lot bigger than I am -- you can help Professor Stoddard. Well, come on!"

Gemmell sat still. "I don't have to do anything you tell me. Or Stoddard either. It's dry in here."

Blair said quietly, "The ground above us is liquefying. It'll give way soon. Trust me, I know."

"Like you knew about sentinels?" The insolence in the boy's voice could have been cut with a knife.

Blair drew a deep breath. "All right," he said quietly. "Stay in the bus if you want. You'll have the comfort of knowing, as you die, that you're still dry. Come on, Professor." He looped his backpack over one shoulder and helped Stoddard down the steps of the bus.

As they reached the ground, Gemmell joined them. "You mean that?" he said, his face white.

"Do you really think I'd push everyone out into the rain for a whim?" Blair snapped. He looked back up the road; the wolf was standing there, clearly impatient, clearly worried, and the students on the road above them weren't hurrying all that much. "Help Professor Stoddard -- please. We need to find somewhere with a solid surface above us, and I think I know how to find one." He turned and as the wolf began to run, he followed it.

He soon reached the bus driver who had given up on trying to speed the youngsters up, and was simply concentrating on keeping them moving without saying anything to panic them; the wolf ran on past the leading students for another hundred yards or so, then turned uphill.

"Come on!" Blair yelled. "Run, dammit!" He peered uphill; the wolf was standing beside a dark shadow some fifty feet above the road, a shadow that he realized was a hole -- a cave! Talk about luck... "There's shelter up there! Come on -- move!"

The word 'shelter' was enough to speed up the wet students. Blair scrambled up the hill with the first ones, pushed them into the narrow entrance, dropped his backpack inside, slithered back down to the road and ran to where Gemmell was half-carrying Stoddard, who, teeth gritted, was resolutely trying to ignore the pain from his twisted ankle but was clearly unable to put much weight on it. The driver ushered the last of the students off the road and up the hillside, then hesitated, looking back at the three men.

"Go on!" Blair called.

The driver hesitated a moment longer, then started up the hillside, understanding Blair's meaning; the students should have at least one older person with them to take charge if necessary.

Blair took his place on Stoddard's other side and between them he and Gemmell practically carried the injured man up the last part of the road, then together they dragged him up the muddy slope. Just as they reached the cave, a shower of stones rattled down from above it. It was too narrow for all three to enter at once; Blair pushed his companions in, but before he could follow them one of the bigger stones glanced off his shoulder and slid down his arm, hitting the ground with a dull squelch then rolled on downhill, slowly at first because of the mud but gaining speed as it traveled on. He gasped at the sudden pain; knocked off balance by the blow, slightly disoriented by the shock of it, he teetered for a moment on the point of falling, then felt hands grabbing him and pulling him forward; he fell on top of whoever had yanked him into the cave -- he later discovered that it was one of the football players -- and a moment later the light at the cave mouth disappeared as with a deafening rumble a long stretch of the hillside finally gave way.

The noise seemed to go on forever.

As the sound finally died away, there was a long moment of silence, then someone said, "We're trapped!" There was near hysteria in the voice.

Blair lifted his head and looked around; and could see nothing. The cave mouth was clearly completely covered by landslide debris.

"But we're alive," he said quietly.

"How did you know that... that..." someone tried to ask.

Blair thought faster than he had ever done in his life. "Well, I have a bit of a problem with heights, so I was watching the hillside -- not much to see, but better than looking over the drop on the other side -- and I saw the cave just before we stopped -- actually, I think it could be an old worked--out mine... Then I could see the water running down the mountainside getting muddier and muddier. It was a guess, but a pretty educated guess, that it was all getting so wet there'd be a landslide, and the cave was the only possible shelter."

He pushed himself to his feet. His arm and shoulder were hurting, but not with the degree of pain that meant a break. "Whoever that was who pulled me in -- thanks."

He paused for some seconds as he took several deep breaths, then he went on. "Anyone know where my backpack is?"

"I have it," someone said.

"Right. If you go into it, you'll find a flashlight. Be careful you don't drop anything out of the pack, though."

A few seconds later, the light went on. Blair crossed to it. "Good." He retrieved his pack. "Is everyone all right? Nobody's hurt?"

"You're the only one who was hurt." It was the driver. "Everyone else was safe inside. How bad is your arm?"

"I think it could be a lot worse, thanks... er...?"

"Joe Liddiard. I've got a first aid qualification -- we have to have one in my job. If whoever has the light would shine it over here..."

Blair scrabbled in his pack and produced a small first aid kit. Liddiard grinned. "Is there anything you don't have in there?"

Blair laughed. It was a little strained, but he knew the sound would be good for morale. "Well, I don't have a kitchen sink. Seriously, I've done a lot of traveling, Joe. There are some things that live in this pack. Apart from a couple of notebooks, pretty well everything in here has survival value."

Liddiard was already checking the injured arm. After a moment he turned his attention to the contents of the pack. He shook his head in awed disbelief at the range of things in it.

He took out a small bottle of water and some cotton wool, which he used to wipe the worst of the mud from the injured arm. Then he selected an antiseptic wipe from the kit, tore open the wrapping and used it to finish cleaning the mud and blood from Blair's arm.

"That was a pretty sharp stone," he muttered as he looked at the bleeding gash running several inches down Blair's upper arm. He checked the contents of the kit again, smeared some antiseptic cream over the gash and bandaged it. "Not perfect, but it should help," he said.

Blair returned the kit and the depleted bottle to his pack. "Thanks. Now I hate to say this, but we need to put the light out. Everybody sit down, make yourselves comfortable. Well, as comfortable as possible. Give me the flashlight."

Someone whimpered as he switched the light off.

"The batteries have a limited life," he explained. "We need to preserve them as long as possible."

"What's the point? We're just going to die in here!" There was near panic in this voice.

"There'll be someone looking for us in another two or three hours," Blair said calmly. "Guaranteed. Someone is bound to come looking for the bus when we don't arrive back in Cascade, and they can't make radio contact with it."

"But they'll find there's been a landslide, and they'll think we're all under it."

"Ah well, that's the other thing. Anyone notice the guy who dropped me off at the bus?"

"Yeah. He's a hunk!" Unsurprisingly, the comment came from one of the girls, and Blair's lips twitched.

"There's no way he'll give up looking until he finds me."

"How can you be so sure?" That was Gemmell, but this time there was genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Because we're friends. And incidentally -- if I were the one in Cascade and he was the one here, I wouldn't give up till I found him."

Whine

Blair looked around; saw a wolf-shaped gleam of light that moved deeper into the cave then stopped, looking back. He thought for a moment, then said slowly, "You know... does anyone else feel a draft? I can feel air moving, and I'm wondering if there's another way out of this place." He scrambled to his feet. "Let's give it a try. If I'm wrong we won't be any worse off than we already are, and we can always come back. Can someone help Professor Stoddard?"

"I've done it so far. Might as well carry on." The words were ungracious, the tone rather less so.

Gemmell. Blair nodded to himself. He wasn't completely sure what had happened, but he had heard Stoddard murmuring, "Thank you" to the awkward student once they were safely in the cave and the noise of the landslide had died away, and he suspected those two words had been some sort of catalyst.

"Joe, would you bring up the rear, please? And Professor, if I'm going too fast for you, just tell me... everyone ready?"

Blair turned towards the wolf, which trotted off in front of him. Afraid that if he shone the light forwards he would lose sight of the glow from the spirit animal, he directed the beam backwards to give the best light for as many people as possible, with his mental fingers crossed that he wouldn't trip over anything as he walked.

The cave led steadily uphill, its floor fairly level, and it remained quite narrow, half-confirming his suspicion that it was indeed an old mine. He hadn't seen any obvious rubble outside it, but that meant very little; in his haste to get inside the tunnel he had taken no time at all to examine the terrain outside it; and anyway, when the road was made or just possibly extended, assuming it had originally been made for access to the mine or repaired at any time, piles of already broken rock lying near it would certainly have been used.

He was never quite sure afterwards how far they traveled, but slowly, so slowly that at first he thought he was imagining it, he realized he could see a gleam of light beyond the wolf. He had just positively decided that yes, there was light ahead of them, when a student who was walking just behind him said, "Is that light up ahead?"

There was an excited babble. Blair let them talk for a minute, then said, "We don't know for sure that it's a way out, remember."

The comment silenced them, but only briefly; the students continued to chatter as they walked on, more briskly now that they could see something ahead of them; once the light was clearly visible to everyone, Blair switched off the flashlight again.

They reached the end of the tunnel, and found themselves in a big cavern. It was only dimly lit -- though after the darkness of the tunnel it seemed quite bright -- because the light was coming through a big hole in the roof of it, some twenty or twenty-five feet above their heads; a pile of earth and rocks under it showed where at some time in the past part of the roof had collapsed. The pile of earth was wet from the rain that was finding its way through the hole; at the side of it was a small pool where the rainwater was gathering.

Blair looked up at the hole and shook his head.

It was indeed a way out; but there was no way to reach it.