I panic when I come to and bash my head on the quartz just like I was trying not to. Someone is whispering nearby, so close that I suspect they must be in the hole with me. They’re not- they may be at the rim. I finally remember where I am and scramble out of the whole before a goat puts me under again. I check my phone and see it’s only been a few minutes. I snap near both my ears a couple times to get a sense for what damage has been done. They seem well enough.
The quartz is thinning to veins again when I find the body- the body of a man- hung over the railing. Blood stains puffs of down that emerge from a sporty-looking vest he’s wearing. His mouth is stuffed with cloth and tied in a gag. He must have been stabbed. Nobody in ‘Black Elk Depth’ would have missed a gunshot.
I worry for a moment about what to do and remember, belatedly, to check the path behind me and ahead in case the attacker is still nearby. Beams of light reach me from across the rim but the way above is dark. I think about calling for help but remember the danger of someone being at the summit. I worry that digging through the man’s pockets for a phone or a wallet will be implicating. I can’t carry him, so I don’t.
I do leave a note, keeping it vague and indicating only that I’ve found the body and will reach out to the police when I regain cell service at the top. I place the note a few turns lower than the body to give the people behind me a head’s up, like a physical content warning. There’s no way around it except the way we came.
I have a long time to think about the murder on my way up to the rim. I wonder if the man’s blood will dry or drain into the summit. That would be a nasty surprise for anyone coming later. I wonder if I might have saved the man if I moved faster. Maybe I would have been killed, myself. The goat might have saved my life and I have no way to thank it and any thanks it would understand would make it too friendly. I worry that I’m becoming too jaded for kindness.
This has worried me for some time.
I do call the police when I reach the surface. I ask if I should stay and they assure me that I shouldn’t. The ‘Deep Dakota’ plate is still parked when I leave. I wonder if it’s the victim or the perpetrator or just someone out taking a long piss in the stone desert that surrounds us.
Headed back to the interstate, I turn on the radio and am surprised to hear the same sugary pop that’s playing above. I turn it off and exit to the surface in silence.
-traveler
