Walker of Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

digs up an official Boy Scout compass in this ancient Sinagua cave? Great, eh?” Tag looked at Walker. His grin faded.
    â€œWell anyway, just call me Tag.” He stuck out his hand to shake.
    Walker looked at the huge, outstretched, freckled hand. Why did all bahanas want to shake hands? he wondered. Ignoring the bahana’s hand, he stared into the pool.
    After a few seconds, Tag dropped his hand into his lap. “You haven’t told me your name.”
    â€œQeni Wayma Talayesva,” Walker said, looking up at Tag. In spite of himself, he felt his mouth turn up in a smile. “You bahanas call me Walker.”
    Tag chuckled. “I can see why. Your name is as bad as mine!”
    Laughing too, Walker started to stand up. His legs were still weak. He sat back down.
    â€œStill wobbly, eh? Better rest a minute more before we climb out of here. Boy, am I glad I found the cave when I did. I’ve never seen lightning up that close before. A big bolt of it hit the tree out in front just as I rolled inside,” said Tag, pointing to the mouth of the cave. His eyes grew large. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried to the cave’s entrance.
    â€œThe tree is totally gone,” he exclaimed, turning back to look at Walker. “There’s not even a trace of it left!”
    His head pounding with each step, Walker made his way to the entrance. The ledge was barren; not even a single blade of beeweed grew in the many cracks of thelimestone. The high noon sun shone brightly. A raven floated in the air above, screeching.
    â€œThis is weird.” Tag ran his hands through his curly hair.
    Walker scanned the narrow ledge. “There are no rain puddles.”
    â€œYou’re right.” Tag knelt down and touched the pitted and cracked limestone. “It’s not even damp. In fact, it’s hot. The rain was coming down in buckets when I finally made it into the cave. Now there’s not a trace.” Looking at his wrist watch, he said, “My watch stopped at 12:00, so I’m not sure what time it is now. I must have been knocked unconscious, too. We must have been out a couple of hours at least.”
    Walker didn’t answer. He stood looking down at the canyon. “Longer than that, I think. Look,” Walker said, pointing downward with his chin.
    Tag’s mouth fell open, and his big eyes grew even larger. The familiar canyon looked alien. No longer were there thick growths of juniper, ponderosa, pinyon pine, and Douglas fir trees covering the sides. Instead, rugged layers of multicolored limestone lay bare in the bright sun. Only small, squatty bunches of sage and cactus grew here and there. Even the cactus looked dry and parched. The air seemed different, too. It was cleaner, fresher, yet hotter and drier—harsher.
    â€œSomething is definitely wrong,” Tag stated. He sat down on the ledge, letting his long legs dangle down into midair.
    Walker sat down next to Tag. “Not wrong, just different.”
    The silence that followed was broken by the sound of a black raven’s screeching laugh. The mysterious feeling once again filled Walker. Goose bumps rose up all over his body.
    â€œWalk time . . . Walk time,” it whispered.
    Walker reached up and grasped the eagle pendant around his neck.
Walk time
. Náat had used those same words.
    â€œWalk time,” whispered Walker, his eyes searching the canyon below.
    â€œWhat?” asked Tag, turning to look at him. “Walk time?”
    â€œYes. We have walked time.” Seeing the look of bewilderment on Tag’s freckled face, Walker stood up. “Come on.” He turned and went back inside the cave.
    â€œThe shrine,” said Walker, pointing to the ledge above the pool. “When I came in, before the lightning hit, it was empty—abandoned. But look at it now.”
    On the ledge next to the rock shrine stood a medium-sized, white ceramic bowl with black lightning-like