“It isn't good, Carrie-mou. There is much bruising and blood under the skin.” He held the hand up and she turned on the flashlight so she could examine it. In the harsh, bright light, it looked nightmarish. Purple and angry red, it was lumpy and had to be massively painful. She could see the torn skin where the bone had protruded. It oozed blood, now that the bandaging was off, and everything about the hand looked wrong.
“It's bad, Dav.”
“It is, yes,” he agreed. “But there is nothing to be done right now. We should get dressed, even if we are wet, and keep moving. If this goes from bad to worse”âhe indicated his handâ“I could get feverish and maybe delirious.”
“That would be worse,” she said, recognizing the vast understatement the words implied.
“Yes. It could be fatal, in these caves, and I will not allow my brother's jealousy, these games”âhe spat the words in angry frustrationâ“this family idiocy to cost you your life. What happens to me is not nearly as important.”
She felt her own anger rise. How dare he? “What makes you think you get to be all martyrlike and put me up on a pedestal? I think you're just as damn important as I am, you idiot.”
“Not to me,” he snarled back. “Nothing is more important than you.”
The words of caring, delivered in such irritation, took a few minutes to register.
Dav had already said he cared about her, but she'd heard that before. Her late husband had been quick to say he loved her, always. He'd been especially free with tossing the words around when he'd been successful wooing some intern or another artist.
This irritable declaration that she was important somehow meant more than any declaration of love.
Rocking back on her heels, she stared at him.
“What?” He scowled at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You mean that, don't you?” His irritated statement was so absurd, she had to laugh.
“Of course. I do not say anything I don't mean. I don't have to.” He smiled a bit. “Unless I'm negotiating; then perhaps I will not be so truthful.”
“This isn't a negotiation.”
“No, Carrie-mou, it isn't. It's merely the truth and I find it annoying that you don't believe me. I have been attracted to you for years. You are important to me.” He used his uninjured hand to tuck her drying hair behind her ear. “Life is too short to lie about that sort of thing. And our lives, right now? They may be very short indeed, so why be false, eh?”
She looked away from the intensity of his gaze, his sincere smile.
He was right.
Something within her crumbled and fell away, a barrier, a fearful wall that kept her trapped in the past, so sure that anyone, everyone she trusted would betray her. Dav hadn't lied to her, he hadn't said he loved her, just that she was important to him, that he was attracted to her.
She let the smile blossom in the gloom, but not where he could see. It was fairly obvious that they were attracted to one another. God, she felt so good. Her body ached from the unaccustomed exercise, both desperate and sexual, but somehow, unaccountably, she felt ... good.
She caught his hand, pressed a kiss into his palm. “You're right.”
“Right? Yes.” He leaned in, caught her face, kissed her softly. “And will you believe me, later, when I tell you that you are important to me? When we are free? Or will you doubt it all again?”
She had to laugh. He'd caught her there. “I don't know. I think,” she said, feeling her way, exploring the new, free sensation in her chest, in her gut, “that I can try to open my mind enough to consider it.”
His brilliant smile lit the darkness. “Good. We will work from there. Now, let us pick another tunnel and keep moving. Somewhere out there, Gates is looking for us.” His smile faded. “And so is my brother.”
She nodded, and pulled on her underthings. They were still wet, but as clammy as they felt, they were at least moderately clean. The T-shirt he'd given her was stained, but again, still cleaner than it had been, so she pulled it over her head. She'd shaken out her sweater, doing her best to get as much of the dirt and dust out of it as possible.
Dav had done the same and they were both trying to get the worst dirt off his pants and her skirt.
“I think this is an impossible task,” he said, giving it up and tugging the pants over his legs. “These are just horrible, I must say,” he commented as he fastened the hook and the belt. His look of fastidious distaste was amusing, but since she was experiencing the same thing, she empathized.
“Considering the conditions, I'm glad it isn't worse.” She repressed a shudder as she too put on her skirt and slid her feet into her clammy, dirty shoes.
They gathered everything and rolled it up into a more compact bundle. They'd finished the last of the Nutella and crackers the previous night. All that was left was half a canteen of water.
“Let's fill up the other canteens,” he said, reading her mind. “We don't know when or if we'll find water again.”
“Okay, hereâ” She handed him the canteens and he went to fill them. “Let's finish this other one now and fill it too.”
“Good, you go ahead.”
She uncapped it and drank it down, the cool water soothing her throat. She was grateful for the surge of energy it brought. Even without food, they could manage if there was water. She worried about Dav though; his hand looked terrible. At worst, if infection set in, he would get a fever, and if they couldn't get out, he could get gangrene and die from it. At best, he might lose the finger even if they couldn't get to medical help quickly.
“So, shall we toss a euro, to pick a tunnel?”
“You have one?”
“Yes, I do. And a drachma as well.”
“Luck piece?”
“You could say that,” he said with a smile, and held it out to her. It was shiny and well rubbed, but obviously old.
She examined it, then handed it back, but he declined. “You keep it. We'll share the luck, yes?”
Tucking it in her pocket, she nodded, touched it. “Deal.”
They faced the walls together, looking at the various tunnels. “Last time, the tall, accessible one was the dead end,” she said. “The rounded, smaller one, led us here.”
“Would they repeat or mix it up?”
“My money's on repeat,” she said. “What do you think?”
“Since I feel better, and I'm relatively clean, I will be willing to try that. If it comes to it, and it's another dead end, then I feel like we won't fall apartâwell, I won't fall apart,” he said, with a sheepish smile.
“I'll do my best not to, too.”
“Then let us proceed,” he said. “Flashlight on?”
She flicked the switch and followed him into the tunnel. They proceeded fairly quickly, even though Dav had to wrestle his way through narrow openings on several occasions.
They had been traveling steadily to the right, which surprised her since most of the tunnels so far had been straight.
Dav abruptly stopped and she nearly ran into him.
“What is it?” she asked, trying to see around him. The light shone through, but she couldn't see anything.
“You will not believe it,” was all he said before he disappeared.
Chapter 15
“It's a dead end?”
“Yes, but look.” Dav shone the beam of the light around the chamber they'd come into. A shaft of sunlight, small and faint, shone from above them, but not enough to show what the flashlight did.
Carrie's jaw dropped. Literally. And Dav laughed.
“Yes, I feel the same way,” he said. “As if I've wandered into that
Indiana Jones
movie we were discussing.”
“Good Lord, how many niches?” she asked, counting as Dav moved the light over the crypts. The light caught the flash of gold and beading and weaponry. The artifacts glinted in the light, despite the dust of centuries.
“All the riches in the world and nowhere to spend them,” he said, feeling unaccountably sad. What good was wealth if you had no way to utilize it, and no one upon whom to lavish the beauty of gold or gems? Hadn't he already been thinking that, thinking about a family and why he wanted a daughter or son to carry on his legacy? Had he not already decided on Carrie, he would have now. His admiration and desire for her soared once more as he watched her, eyes alight with curiosity at their find.
Hungry, tired and facing a return down the difficult passage, she was still appreciative of the beauty, of the history that lay before them. She moved along the niches, her artistic interest outweighing any fear or revulsion when it came to the skeletons. Then again, he had to admit they looked more like Halloween props than real people.
He felt a wave of weakness. It could be hunger, or it could be infection. Either one was potentially debilitating. He knew his strength was waning. “Much as I hate to say it, we should go back.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, still looking at the niches.
“I hate to say this too,” he added, “but we should take a gem or a link of gold or a coin. It may be our only way to barter ourselves to freedom, or get help.”
When she turned to him, her face wore a mutinous expression in the flashlight's crisp beam. “The site shouldn't be disturbed.”
“No, it shouldn't. But if we can get free, and we have to use whatever we take, I'll buy it back and we'll see that this find is put into the right hands.”
She hesitated.
“I promise I will get it back if I can, return it here, Carrie-mou. Do you doubt my word?”
She huffed out a breath. “No, I know you'll do it. It's just...”
He nodded. “I know. I feel bad, but I also wish to survive, to get you home.”
She nodded as well, and directed him to shine the light more closely into one niche. A beautifully carved bowl was held in the hands of the niche's occupant. It held gems and links of gold, some hammered, some smoothed. She pulled out three items, and spoke, directing her words toward the occupant of the niche: “We'll bring them back. Thank you for the loan.”
He said nothing about her promise to the dead. He would have done the same, said the same. Some superstitions crossed cultures, he decided.
She pocketed the gold and gems and they began the onerous return journey.
When they got back to the waterfall, no light could be seen. The orb of sunshine was gone.
“Do we stop, or try the other path?” she said, wearily.
He felt himself waver again, felt the flush of heat that washed over him, then receded.
Fever. Exactly what they'd been dreading.
“I do not wish to go on,” he admitted. “But I have begun to feel feverish, Carrie-mou. I think we must keep moving. If there is any hope that this last tunnel leads out, we must try.”
Fear made a mask of her features. “You need more aspirin, and rest.”
He shook his head. “No resting. If I get worse, you cannot carry me, my flame. The aspirin, I will take, however.” Every ache, scrape and pain in his body made itself known as he spoke. The aspirin would be most welcome.
He took two with a gulp of the water, and they set out down the second tunnel. It ran straight, and even when it narrowed at several points, Dav could still squeeze through. They crossed two more pits as well.
Dav was beginning to believe the tunnel would never end in anything, other than more tunnels, when the light showed them yet another dead end. This time, however, instead of a rounded room or platform, a stacked wall of flat, regular, worked stone blocked the way. He heard Carrie's moan of despair.
“It is not a cave, Carrie-mou,” he said, holding on to that thought with everything he had. “It is something we have not yet seen, therefore it could be a way out, even when it does not seem to be.”
As they neared the wall, Dav thought he smelled fresher air. He stopped her. “I feel a breeze again. Check with the light,” he ordered. If she resented his terse command, she said nothing.
Together they braced themselves and she began to play the light along the floor leading to the wall, then up the left side, over the ceiling and down the right side. She had just begun to slide the beam down toward the floor when Dav noticed the discrepancy.
“Wait. We have to get closer.”
They moved closer, step by step, until they were at the wall. The light disappeared into a narrow margin between the stacked stone and the wall of the tunnel. Beyond the crevice, the light bounced off rocks and dirt. The stone and earth were dampâhe could see that in the narrow beam.
“Wait, go back to the right,” he said, peering into the darkness. The light played back and he saw green. Leaves. Vines, of some kind.
“What is it?” Carrie demanded, gripping his belt tightly as she moved the light at his direction.
“Leaves. Something grows in there. I think that means it's close to the light, to the surface.” He was excited now. If there was a way out, they were saved. “What time is it? How close to daylight?” He was fairly sure they wouldn't be able to assess things with just the flashlight, not from here, through the eight-inch-wide opening.
She passed him the light, her hands shaking, and dug out her broken watch. “It's after midnight,” she said, her earlier excitement giving way to sudden weariness as she realized how long they'd been lost in the tunnels.
“Then we will sit here and rest until the sun rises,” he decided.
“Good plan,” she said. “Or as good as any,” she added as they slid down the wall, sitting with their backs to the heavy bricks so the faint breeze could play over their sweaty faces. “Do you feel that?” she added, lifting her face and turning it toward the crevasse.
“The breeze? Yes, it feels good.” It felt more than good. It felt heavenly. The stir of air made him realize how hot he was. Before he'd completed the thought, however, he shivered. The fever was making itself known.
She must have felt the shiver, because, to his surprise, her hand touched him gently, resting on his forehead. “I'm not sure how high your fever is, Dav, but even with the aspirin, you're burning up.”
“Yes, I know, my Carrie-mou.”
“Is there anything I can do?” she said, kneeling now at his side. “More aspirin? Or is it too soon?”
“Yes, to the aspirin. And no, I don't think it's too soon. It has been several hours.” He gratefully took the canteen and drained it, knowing they had the other three left. “And then, we sleep.”
“Okay,” she said, and she seemed to appreciate that he'd set an agenda. In fact, she sounded weary and discouraged. “That sounds like a plan.” She busied herself for a few moments, finding the canteen and the aspirin. She also got out a power bar and split it between them. “I forgot I had these, but we need the energy and the calories.”
“We have burned energy today, haven't we?” he said lightly, thinking of their lovemaking as well as their travels.
“Yes, we have,” she said, and in the radiance of the upturned light, he saw her smile.
It was her smile that made the decision for him. Tomorrow, when they woke, he would tell her that he planned to ask her to marry him. In fact, he decided, leaning back and closing his eyes, he
would
ask her.
She turned off the light and he pulled her securely under his arm so that he could hold her and they could be close. Although they'd been hot from all their exertions, and he even hotter from the fever, the night breeze was chilling them both. It felt good now, but would be colder by morning, especially if his fever did not abate.
With his battered coat around his shoulders, and around Carrie's back, he sat awake thinking. His mind circled and circled long after she'd fallen asleep, her head pillowed on his chest.
He would ask her to marry him. He wanted toâneeded to. Nothing about his feelings for her had changed. He rubbed at his chest, and whispered,
“Andras.” Husband.
What kind of husband would he be? Would he be what she wanted? Needed? On one hand, he felt sure she would agree to marry him. But his knowledge of himself was less solid, less quantifiable. There was the cry of a wild animal beyond the wall, and he felt his heart leap in both hope and fear.
The cry of an animal that close meant freedom might be near. But it also meant danger. Carrie shifted in her sleep.
“Shhhh, darling,” he soothed, and she murmured something unintelligible and settled once more. He didn't think anything could get through the narrow opening to harm them, but he would watch. And listen. Whatever it was would get to him first, so at least he could protect her.
Another thought occurred to him. Unless she was protected with the pills women took, she could also be pregnant. Not likely, he realized, but stranger things had happened.
He fell asleep dreaming of daughters who looked like Carrie and his mother, and sons that were sturdy and strong, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and calling him father.
Â
Â
“Sir?” Marjorie called to him as he was about to exit the plane. Her brow was creased in a frown, so he presumed that she was worried yet again about disturbing him. He sighed, but smiled.
“Yes, my dear?”
“There is another call for you,” she said, sounding a bit breathless. “Would you like to take it here on the plane, or should I have it routed to the car?” She hesitated and he began to see the issue. Routing to the car, here in Guatemala, might be slightly more challenging than it was in the United States.
“I'll take it here. José!” he called down the steps, catching the attention of his local driver. “Stow the bags; I'll be there in a moment.”
José nodded, not attempting to speak over the noise of local air traffic.
He accepted the receiver. “Yes?”
“Sir, there's been an issue.” It was the man he'd sent to watch Niko.
“Yes, go on.” Irritation rose within him. He didn't like it when things went awry.
“Two hunters of ours were tracking that high-value animal and its mate.”
“As we discussed,” he said, irritated that they were covering the same ground.
“I'm afraid the hunters suffered a mishap. They're going to have to turn in their hunting licenses.”
Dead, then. Hmmm. Not good, and not part of the plan.
Fury singed him, then receded. His man was right to report in; it wouldn't do to take the irritation out on him. “Do we know what caused the mishap?”
“No, not at this time,” the man replied tersely. “I'm checking options and possible sources. It may be there were snakes in the grass, but nothing points to a snakebite.”
“I see.” Had Davros bought one of Niko's men? Had Gates Bromley figured out where Niko had stashed Dav? He wondered how he could shift these new developments to his advantage. It might be an opportunity to pursue, to give Davros's people a lead and be the rescuer this time. Give him more time to live now, and kill him later when things were clearer. “Has there been any sign of the rare beast, or has it escaped its containment?”
“No, sir.”
“Interesting. Thank you for letting me know. I will consider our next move. Stand by for more...” He hesitated, not wanting to say “orders” or “instructions” on an unsecured network. “Communications.”
“Will do.” He detected relief in the man's voice, and let a wry smile twist his lips. They were always so surprised when he didn't yell. “Thank you, sir.”
He pondered the new development. Was there a third player in the field? He had been sure he'd tied up all the loose ends. No one in Niko's sphere, now that he'd eliminated Niko's team, had the skills to effectively take out three of his men without leaving a trace his man could find. The fact that the grate was still locked, with Davros apparently still inside, puzzled him as well. It would be interesting to see what Niko reported when
he
called in.
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