Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (16 page)

Market Road, Pompeii, Roman Empire
August 25
^th
, 79 AD

Avita held her finger to her lips, urging her children to remain
quiet as she peered around the corner to see if they had finally evaded their
pursuers. A shadow rushed toward her position, the sandal clad feet barely
audible, the ash providing a soft underlay to dull any sound. But the
accompanying grunts were unmistakable as the shadow pushed its way through the
waist high ash—it was her attacker.

She
stepped back inside, the door now stuck open due to the ash that had accumulated
since the owners of this lovingly kept abode abandoned its walls for the safety
of the street.

Avita
knew staying here was foolish, the roof already creaking over their heads, made
worse with each shudder of the ground. She looked about for something to defend
themselves with, the hammer dropped accidentally in their flight to safety. She
spotted a clay vase on a table by a nearby window and grabbed it, dumping the
dried flowers it contained onto the floor.

“Cover
your heads,” she whispered to the children. They reluctantly buried their heads
under the blanket Flora held up for them, and Avita returned her attention to
the door and the approaching curses. She knew they would be found, the path
they plowed through the ash with their bodies obvious. She positioned herself
behind the door, smoothing out the ash with several good kicks of her foot,
then held the jar high over her head.

“What
the hell is the matter with you?” asked a gruff, angry voice.

“I can’t
breathe,” came the reply, the voice weak and labored.

“Get
up!”

“I-I can’t,”
gasped the man.

“Severus!”

Avita
could hear a commotion just outside the door and she exchanged a quick glance
with Flora who like her seemed to be holding her breath. There was a grunt then
a heavy thud.

“Severus!
You have to get up or you’re going to die!”

“Leave
me,” moaned the other. “Save yourself.”

The
sound Avita heard next, a strange gurgling sound, sent shivers up and down her
spine as she realized the other man was dying. She was of mixed emotions, part
of her thrilled with the knowledge they now only faced one attacker, the other
part horrified that a human being had just died not paces away. Who was this
man yesterday? Was he always bad, or had the situation driven him to evil
through desperation and fear?

She felt
the vase in her hand, still held high, ready to deliver what she hoped would be
a death blow to her foe, and marveled at how different she was today from
yesterday. Yesterday she couldn’t imagine herself prepared to kill, but this
disaster, this end of innocence, had become the great equalizer, leaving civil
society behind, instead turning it into a battle of every man for himself where
your station in society yesterday mattered not today.

She
looked over at Flora who huddled with the children, her free hand now occupied
with a vase of its own, and realized that the act of kindness that had brought
them together meant that the devolution of society was a choice, not an
inevitable outcome of disaster, and if they all continued to help each other,
rather than look out only for themselves, there might still be hope.

“I’m
going to kill that bitch!” roared her attacker’s voice from the other side of
the partially ajar door. Avita braced herself as a shadow cast itself across
the doorway then pushed into the home.

His head
came into view, his back to her, and she resisted the urge to roar her anger as
her hand swung down hard, the vase shattering on his skull, the shards bursting
in all directions as the man cried out in pain, dropping to his knees and
grabbing for the back of his head. Flora leapt forward, no urge apparently
blocking her own cry of rage as she shattered her vase over the man’s head as
well, it unfortunately blocked by his hand now gripping his skull.

He began
to struggle to his feet and Avita looked at the final shard that remained in
her hand, her eyes focusing on the sharp, jagged point.

And a
decision was made.

She
plunged down, burying the tip in the man’s back. He cried out in pain as she
yanked it free, raising her arm again and once more jabbing the tip into his
flesh. Flora leapt forward, her own cry drowning out the fearful cries of the
man as she plunged her shard into the now bloodied back. They traded blows, the
man crumpling to the ground, his cries and groans weakening with each savage turn,
until finally he collapsed and moved no more.

Avita fell
backward, lying on the floor, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her
breath, her blood soaked hand releasing its death grip on the shard of the once
innocent vase, its crafter never possibly imagining that it would be used someday
as a weapon to kill.

And to
save.

Tekezé River, Eritrea
Present Day, One day before the crash

James Acton crouched on the other side of the embankment, Laura
kneeling by his side. A steady stream of panicking civilians were pouring over
the embankment and onto the dirt road, clearly uncertain as to where to go.

“This
way!” yelled Acton, waving them toward him, then pointing down the road.
“Follow the road then head inland! There’s a village!”

The
group seemed to crave leadership and immediately obeyed, rushing toward him
then past where he was pointing. Within minutes almost all had gone past their
position. The bombardment was steadily getting heavier, but so far they had
been completely shielded from any fire. Several explosions indicated to him
that some of the military hardware had been taken out and he wondered if Dawson
and Niner were okay.

He felt
a hand on his arm. “What are you thinking?” asked Laura.

He
smiled at her, patting her hand. “You know me too well.”

“You
want to go back, don’t you?”

He
nodded, but ducked when another massive explosion vibrated through the ground,
a fireball erupting into the air. “They’re unarmed. How many times have they
saved us?”

“That’s
their job, it isn’t ours,” she replied, squeezing his arm a little tighter.
“Their job is to protect us. If we don’t follow their instructions and go back,
they’re going to have to risk their lives to save us
again.
They’ve
already saved our lives by sending us here. Now let them do their job. I’m sure
they’re going to be okay.”

Acton
nodded, knowing Laura was right, but still not feeling good about leaving them
behind. He was about to rise when he heard a large engine roar to life,
followed moments later by another one.

“What
the hell is that?” he asked, knowing the tanks had already powered up as soon
as the planes had made their run for the border. These were new engines, closer
to the dig, most of the armor farther down the beach, away from their current
shelter.

“Does it
matter?” asked Laura, exasperated, pulling on his arm. “Let’s go!”

He heard
gears grinding then a loud roar as a vehicle began to move.

And he
recognized the sound.

The
front loaders!

His
heart began to race as he realized what was happening, and that he had to stop
it. Turning to Laura, he grabbed the arm that was holding his. “They’re going
to use the dozers to move the gold!”

She
paused for a moment as she processed the words. “They’ll destroy the boat!”

Both of
them turned and ran up the embankment, the scientists in them suddenly
oblivious to the danger, instead determined to protect their dig from wanton
destruction. As Acton cleared the top he skidded to a halt, holding an arm out
to stop Laura from falling over the other side.

It was
chaos, like a scene from a war movie. It was nearly pitch dark, the massive
floodlights from earlier turned off, and only a hint of the sun on the horizon
to his left. In front however the light was provided by firepower and
devastation. Several armored vehicles were aflame on both sides. Tracer fire
crisscrossed from one bank to the other as heavy machine guns exchanged fire.
Muzzle flashes from the large weapons were accompanied by the smaller flashes
from other automatic weapons firing freely and it appeared mostly blindly.

From his
vantage point he could see the Eritrean troops were repositioning to the west.
He peered into the darkness and a particularly bright flash highlighted the
reason.

“They’re
trying to cross the river!” He pointed for Laura’s benefit then whipped back
toward the dig site when he heard the second loader begin to move forward.
Starting down the embankment, he was about to shout at them to stop when a
terrific explosion not fifty feet away knocked him off his feet then showered
him in sand. “Laura!” he cried, spinning around to look for her. He breathed a
sigh of relief as he saw her only a few feet away, sitting up and brushing the
sand off. “Are you okay?”

She
nodded then smiled. “I think it blasted some sand up my knickers, though.”

Acton
grinned then turned his attention back to their Roman prize just as the first
massive scoop hit the ground, rushing toward the hull.

“It’s
been hit!” Laura pointed at the enlarged hole. “There’s debris everywhere!”

“So much
for preserving the integrity of the dig,” sighed Acton as he watched the first
scoop dig into the boat, disappearing from sight. As the driver continued to
push forward, obviously trying to get as much as he could in a single scoop, he
suddenly stopped, jamming the vehicle in reverse and pulling out, the scoop,
tipping up and rising as he did so, and as soon as he was cleared the second
vehicle repeated the process, only to the left of where the first loader had
dug. Acton could already see most of the gold that had been in sight was now
gone, and as the vehicle turned toward him, he caught a glimpse of the driver.

Dawson!

He
grabbed Laura by the arm and pulled her toward the embankment, pushing her up
from behind then tumbled after her, down the other side. Moments later the
first of the massive vehicles roared over the same hill at an incredible angle,
the weight of the scoop and its cargo the only thing preventing it from
tumbling ass over end. Clearing the top, it dropped like a rock, the front
scoop hammering into the ground, the vehicle steadying itself after several
bounces, then turning toward the village Dawson had indicated earlier. The
second loader cleared the embankment, repeating the precarious balancing act of
the first, then turned to follow.

Acton
ran after it, waving at who he assumed was Niner. He heard the gears grind as
it came to a halt, the cabin door opening, Niner’s face poking out.

“Hey,
Doc, aren’t you supposed to be halfway to the village by now?” he asked in his
ever cheery voice.

Acton
climbed onto the vehicle, pulling Laura up beside him. “You know me, I always
have to be in the thick of it!”

Niner
laughed then returned to the cabin, the gears grinding as he pushed the beast
forward again. Gunfire and artillery shells could still be heard above the din
of the diesel engine, but as they turned away from the river and began to head
north, deeper into Eritrean territory, the sounds of war were replaced with the
still of the harsh landscape. It didn’t take long for them to catch up to the
main group of civilians who had fled earlier. Both vehicles stopped and took on
as many as could find places to perch, then continued toward the village.

Niner
came to a halt, honking his horn at the lead vehicle, it too coming to a halt,
Dawson climbing out of the cabin to see Niner pointing at the horizon. Two
dozen bright lights were streaking across the sky from the east, and within
moments a squadron of F/A-18E Super Hornet fighters roared overhead on full
afterburners. The crowd cheered, fists raised in the air as missiles streaked
from their weapons pods, hammering the Ethiopian positions in the distance, the
horizon flashing in protest as the unmatched weaponry of the United States Navy
overwhelmed the light from the rapidly rising sun. Minutes later the planes,
their payloads spent, ripped across the sky on their return to their carrier,
several remaining behind, patrolling the area, unchallenged.

In the
distance to the east, the thumping of helicopter blades ripped across the
landscape, and within minutes a dozen Black Hawk helicopters rushed by, two of
them splitting off from the main group, banking back toward the refugees and
landing, a dozen Marines jumping out of each, quickly securing the area.

Acton
jumped down as Dawson helped Reese out of the cramped cab of his loader. They walked
over to greet the commanding officer, Reese looking weathered but alive.
Handshakes rather than salutes were exchanged, Dawson and Niner’s true
background not being acknowledged.

“Report!”
snapped Reese as she arrived. The Captain’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly,
his eyes darting to Dawson who nodded slightly.