He hoped when the searchers found his cave, they would take time searching it and deciding what to do. They would not be able to tell if he was outside the canyon or inside. They would have to cover both possibilities. Probably post two men at the entranceway, as they would most likely decide he was outside the canyon. They couldn’t know the canyon was a blind canyon. One man would either be sent to explore the canyon or to go for more men.

The furs he left behind would tell them he had moved there from two weeks’ travel to the northeast. If the smart sergeant put the story together, he would know he was on the trail of a skilled killer and decide to move slowly and send for more men. Yevgeny hoped so, and that was the best he could hope for. But now as he looked up at the nearly sheer wall, he knew his biggest challenge was to get out of the dead-end canyon.

The canyon wall extended for at least 50 meters. He examined one end of the wall and then ran to see the other end. He saw a chance of climbing the wall where it joined the sidewall at a slightly obtuse angle. Fifty feet up he saw a narrow ledge where he could rest and maybe even hide. Here and there on this corner of the canyon wall stunted, wind-bent trees had found purchase in the poor, loose soil.

Yevgeny adjusted his pack, wiped out any tracks he made leading up to the climbing point, jammed his boot into a small crevice, and started up the wall. He had some rock climbing experience and found handholds, some risky, but he had no choice. He knew he had to reach the ledge before anyone came.

Looking back down the cliff to the canyon floor, Yevgeny could see the eroded handholds he used had been cut there by someone else, probably the ones who lived in the cave settlement. Looking up the cliff face he saw without rock climbing equipment he could go no further. The narrow ledge led behind the steep wall blocking the canyon to a small concealed opening. He had to crawl, pushing his pack ahead of him to get through the opening. After crawling several more feet, he found he could stand. He was in a large, gloomy cavern. There was enough light coming through the crawl space for him to make out the outline of the cavern. It didn’t look as if the cavern went anywhere but it was large enough to hold many people.

Yevgeny moved to the back wall and built a small fire from the makings in his pack. In the light from the small fire, he saw primitive art as high as 15 feet up the wall. Yevgeny stayed in the cavern for two days. On the second day, he heard voices and crawled to the mouth of the cave. Yevgeny heard four distinct voices and it sounded as if more men were walking along the base of the cliff.

“Only a bird could get out of this canyon,” Yevgeny heard one man say.

The sergeant said, “Don’t underestimate this man. He may have rigged a rope to help him escape from here. Did we find any tracks near the entrance or in the area of the entrance in the light dusting snow we got last night? No! He is either still in this canyon or he got out just before we arrived. Saw us and took off, leaving the stuff in the cave behind. No man would have left those beautiful fox furs without a very good reason. So keep looking. I think he is in this canyon laughing at us.”

The sergeant is a wise hunter, Yevgeny thought. If I killed him, the others wouldn’t know what to do next. If anyone climbs up here, they will find this cave. Still, maybe waiting is best. I have enough food to get by for another few days. There’s enough water in the trickle in the back of the cave to keep several people alive. This cavern is immense. I need to explore it all. Maybe there’s another way out or at least a place to hide if they climb up to the ledge and find the entrance.

Yevgeny sat down near his small fire. As he looked back up at the cavern walls, he noticed the smoke from his small fire drifted up and toward the back of the cavern. There has to be at least an opening to the outside somewhere. As he was making a torch out of a piece of clothing dipped in the small can of cooking fat he always carried, he heard shouts and noise outside. Hurrying to the entrance, he heard the sounds of something moving along the narrow ledge. The light coming in the entrance dimmed and he could see a moving shadow from the bit of sunlight entering the tunnel at this time of day.

Yevgeny stood to the right side of the entrance. When a man’s head appeared he struck him on the back of his neck with the butt of his rifle. The man groaned and stretched out face down. Minutes later, voices called “Alexandrov” repeatedly, followed by the sergeant demanding he answer. If they don’t hear anything and Alexandrov doesn’t return, the sergeant may not find any more volunteers. Yevgeny checked the down man’s pulse. He was dead. Tonight I’ll drop him off the ledge to add more problems for the sergeant. After the 50-foot fall it may be difficult to tell what killed him. They won’t know for sure that I’m up here. I can outwait them. They won’t stay for more than a week, probably be gone in three days. That sergeant may set up a guard at the entrance. I’ll worry about that later.

All of Barry Kelly’s novels are available in print in digital formats from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or your local bookstore. Visit www.factsandfictions.com for more by the author.