by Tom Hunter
The Chasm
The Secrets of Death Valley, Book 3
Tom Hunter
Copyright © 2019 by Tom Hunter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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One
Robbie bristled at Thomas Knight’s glance. Alexia and Pediah ran interference. But, it was the mythical creatures of burden that had the camp abuzz. Underneath it all was a sadness that only Abby could fill. Against Robbie’s wishes, and at Thomas and Mochni’s suggestion, she’d stayed behind as collateral until the Woidnuk’s ancient drum was returned. Its subsequent theft had cast a shadow over any hope the team or the camp might have had.
Mochni, the interloper once again, could feel the tension. His large eyes echoed everyone’s unease, and his furrowed brow spoke of confusion. He knew some English, but not enough to understand the nuances of these surfacers. These people who existed topside of his home. He’d thought of suggesting Abby would help, but he could see it had only added to the gloom.
Alexia put her hand on his arm, and he looked down at the tiny woman. She was like Abby, he thought. Kind and gentle. She was trying to talk to him, but he could only understand small pieces. “Abby. Big shoes. Important. Understanding. Friend.” He translated what he thought she meant. “Abby was an important and understanding friend to everyone.
She had left big shoes to fill.” Big shoes? He didn’t understand it. Her feet were small. But, he nodded, and offered a wry smile. He pulled his chest up and breathed deeply, then slowly exhaled. Excited voices caught his ear, and he turned to watch Robbie and Pediah.
“It’s okay, Robbie,” Pediah placed a firm hand on his shoulder, almost as if to hold him back. “Abby knew what she was doing.”
“I know she knew what she was doing. But, she shouldn’t have done it. I mean, he’s the leader, right?” he asked waving a hand toward Thomas Knight. “It should have been him.”
“It couldn’t have been him, and you know why. Be rational,” Pediah reminded him. “Besides, she agreed, even when you offered to stay instead. I suspect we’ll need to know whatever she might learn.”
“No,” Robbie pouted. I’ve lost too much already. He fell silent as he glared first at Thomas, then Mochni. He knew Pediah was right, but he didn’t and couldn’t admit it to himself. Not yet. He watched as Thomas approached Dr. Cunningham.
Thomas took Dr. Cunningham by the elbow and steered him away from the rest of the team. Under his breath, he asked in a strained voice, “What the hell happened?”
Dr. Cunningham heard the fear in Thomas Knight’s voice, and swallowed his own. His mind had been filled with too many other things to notice who or what might have been out of place upon his arrival.
“I’m sorry, Thomas. I was too wrapped up in other things to realize it until it was too late, but a spy infiltrated the camp,” answered Dr. Cunningham, with a twist of his lips in concern for Abby. He held up a hand, and remarked, “Before you ask the obvious, I have suspicions of my own.”
“Which are?” prompted Thomas, his eyes flashing a mix of fear, anger, and frustration.
“When I arrived, I was greeted by a Mr. Stephen Matthews and a woman he called ‘Birdie,’” began Dr. Cunningham. At Thomas’ curt nod to continue, he added, “I didn’t get a good look at her at first. I was too busy with getting the reports from Matthews of the last few days before I arrived. I just needed to establish a baseline….” He trailed off then, as Thomas Knight’s look intensified as if to say, “Get on with it.”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” He flicked a hand in Thomas’s general direction. “I had to know where to start to see how we were progressing. Abby had filled me in some, but things happen so quickly in the field–“
“Fine. Whatever,” Thomas interrupted and answered to the absently waving hand. A thought sliced through him. Suddenly, Thomas Knight felt chilled to the bone. “What about the woman?” he asked, slowly, each word measured and deliberate.
Dr. Cunningham shrugged. He knew no other way to tell Thomas than to rip it off like a band-aid. “I guess no one told Mr. Matthews what Miss Welker looked like,” he answered matter-of-factly, his mouth set in a grim line.
Thomas Knight opened and closed his mouth, grasping for air. Finally, he sputtered, “Miss Welker!” Then, to himself. Well, of course it was her, you fool. Who else could have pulled it off?
Slowly, he unclenched his fists, down at his side, and asked evenly, “So…am I to assume she seduced him?”
“How should I know!” exclaimed Dr. Cunningham, aghast.
“I hope she did,” Thomas said calmly. Dr. Cunningham took a step back, as Thomas added, “And I hope he enjoyed it. Because it’s gonna be awhile before he feels anything but pain,” he finished. He pushed his rolled-up sleeves past his elbows, and started off in search of Matthews.
He’d only taken a few steps, when Dr. Cunningham called after him. “Thomas Knight! Stop!” he commanded.
Thomas stopped with one of his feet planted hip width in front of him. He twisted his body to look back at the commanding voice. He arched an eyebrow as if to ask, what are you going to do about it?
“I know you’re upset, Thom,” said Dr. Cunningham in a soft voice. “And you should be. We all are,” he looked at the Pediah and Robbie in earnest conversation. Then, at Alexia and Mochni, and around to the small groups that had gathered near the core of the team. They were pockets of Thomas Knight’s team talking about next steps, what happened, and how they would rescue Abby.
“Listen, he’s a fool. But, he doesn’t deserve…this.” He pointed to Thomas Knight’s tense posture, spoiling for a fight.
“I’m pretty pissed off, Don,” explained Thomas, slowly unclenching his fists as he turned to face Dr. Cunningham. He rarely called him by his first name, but he was still a bit prickly about how quickly things had gone awry topside. Abby had asked for Dr. Cunningham specifically to take her place while she was away and they’d all walked into a hornet’s nest.
“But, I’m not going to hurt him. Much as I’d like to. I know it won’t solve anything,” he added. Then, “But, here’s the rub,” he began as he counted their troubles ticking each finger as he did so. “It was Miss Welker who shot Howard. It was Ramon who took Reginald Ashbridge’s journal from my hands to give to Noah,” he stopped, and held up a hand, as Dr. Cunningham opened his mouth to ask a question.
“Yes, I realize it’s his grandfather’s journal, but there was just something… off about the whole setup.” He paused, “I’ve been played. Yet, again. I’m no archeologist. I’m a goddamned fiddle!
“So, no. I’m not going to hurt the guy. Much as I’d like to. But, he is, or was a fool. And the reason I was so careful – or tried to be - in my hiring decisions was to avoid just this situation.”
“I see your point, Thomas,” conceded Dr. Cunningham.
“Good,” confirmed Thomas with a nod. “But, I’m not sure you fully grasp our problem. Without that drum, we don’t get Abby back. And if Noah has it, it’s gone. On the black market. Sold. Never to be seen again, because it’s kept in a private room by some private collector who only takes it out to show it off to his friends as an ancient artifact. The problem is, Noah may or may not know what it can do, er, does.”
Dr. Cunningham’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, what it does?” he asked. “It’s a drum.”
“Oh yes, it is a very important drum,” Thomas remarked cryptically. He pointed to the lizard like creatures they’d ridden topside. “See those creatures?” he asked. “They’re pretty docile, do
n’t you think?”
Dr. Cunningham nodded, a tremulous “Yes…” escaping his lips in a soft whistle. Then before Thomas could finish his explanation, a new thought occurred to Dr. Cunningham. It seemed to him the perfect solution. “I have an idea,” he interrupted. “What about the other artifacts? The scrolls, maybe?” he asked.
“No, Dr. Cunningham. It’s the drum or no Abby,” explained Thomas. “Now, as I was saying,” he added, “those creatures when they hear that drum…” His words were cut off as Robbie grabbed him roughly by the collar.
“What the hell are you gonna do now, Knight!” demanded Robbie, his face was red and his blazed like a wildfire. “There is no drum, and without it we don’t get Abby back!” he exclaimed. “What the hell were you thinking, agreeing to that shit?” Robbie spat.
Thomas grasped at Robbie’s hands, as Pediah and Dr. Cunningham pulled Robbie from him.
“Robbie,” Pediah said gently, pinning Robbie’s arms to his side to calm him. “Thomas won’t let anything happen to Abby. You know that,” he said calmly.
Robbie shook Pediah off and walked up to Thomas, who took a step back.
“Robbie, I care just as much for Abby as you do. Hell, I’ve known her, Al, and…and Annie, longer than you.” Robbie’s eyes went dark at Annie’s name. She and her father had died together on a dig before she and Robbie had barely begun a life together.
“My point is,” Thomas added quickly, holding a hand up to stop the flood of Robbie’s predictable ire. “I may have an idea on how to get the drum and get Abby back,” Thomas explained. “We just don’t have long to get my plan put into place. Time is of the essence.”
A small crowd had gathered as Robbie confronted Thomas. Then, when Pediah and Dr. Cunningham had had to race forward to restrain him, they’d gained the attention of Mochni and Alexia who had come forward to see how they might be able to stem the tide of anger, fear, and frustration that threatened to boil over. Abby was well-loved and well liked and when the truth was known, no one knew what might happen. And Alexia for one, didn’t want to have to guess. But, somehow Thomas Knight’s words struck a chord with the crowd.
Cries of “well let’s get started” and “what are we waiting for” peppered the air. Though, there was an undercurrent of fear as Mochni and the Kisgar came near. “How help I Ab-bee?” asked Mochni.
As discussion and cries of help escalated, Thomas could see the Kisgar were beginning to get spooked. It seemed they could feel the tension in the air. He hoped no one was beating the drum.
Over the rising voices, Thomas called for order. “Calm down, everyone! Please pay attention. There’s a lot to discuss, and it will require a bit of organization to put everything into place.” As he spoke, he pumped his hands palms down in the air hoping his team would lower their voices.
He had no idea if anyone was listening outside their camp, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
Two
Miss Welker hugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders, the drum at her side. She was thankful she’d had the foresight to grab a large tote bag, and had surreptitiously stuffed the drum in it. As hot as the desert could get in the day, it did the opposite at night, and the chilled desert air cut to the bone. But, the walking she’d done in the heat was taking its toll.
She was glad for her flat combat-type boots, but each step began to feel as though she had bricks on her feet. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought idly. The canteen she’d slung over shoulder bounced against her back as she walked.
The rush of adrenaline from her mad dash escape away from Thomas Knight’s camp had begun to settle. With nothing but flat, cracked earth in front of her, Miss Welker was soon lost in thought, as the day replayed in her mind.
Before she began walking, she’d been driving for what seemed like hours, though it was probably closer to one hour when the vehicle she’d stolen bucked. She’d zigzagged her away across the desert, hoping to lead any pursuit as far away from Noah’s camp as possible.
Had she run out of battery life, or some kind of fuel? She’d wondered, as she put it into park, and exited the vehicle to see what was wrong.
“Well, I guess the man in white counts on others to check his vehicles for him!” she’d exclaimed to the sky, in exasperation. “Shit. No tools. No radio. No flares. Zip. Zero. Zilch,” she’d muttered, as she looked through the few supplies that were left in the vehicle. Nothing she needed to fix the problem now, but they might come in handy later. So, she took those items, and stuffed them in a pocket in her pack.
The excitement and heat of the day, coupled with finding herself on foot in the desert at night, weighed heavily on her. Miss Welker’s mind began to wander. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the things she carried felt like dead weight. She was utterly exhausted and, looking at the starry night, she began to wonder if she was even walking in the right direction. Her zigzag trail in the car had her all turned around, and she began to second guess herself.
Oh god, please don’t let me be lost, she pleaded to whomever might be listening.
Shaking her head vigorously, she chastised herself, “Pull yourself together, woman! You’re better than this!” A few quick slaps, as if to wake herself from a dream, and a swig from her canteen, helped get her mind back on track.
“I must be getting closer. Surely.” She looked around. There was nothing. Just great swathes of open desert sands and an expanse of black sky, swathed with the marvelous band of the Milky Way. “And if so, Ramon’s men should have been patrolling. They should…they should have seen me by now,” she muttered, willing her wishes to come true.
She stopped and looked up at the stars. As if they’d spoken to her, Miss Welker tilted her head slightly in thought, and whistled softly, “Of course!” Retrieving the map she’d commandeered from the vehicle, she stopped and kneeled in the sand to spread it open, and compared it to the stars above.
She’d already slept once. A quick catnap in the vehicle before she’d abandoned it. But, her sense of timing was out of whack. She’d barely slept at Thomas Knight’s camp. Too much to do. If she had to guess, she probably hadn’t slept properly in days. Not since that night with Noah, and even then, his tossing and turning had kept her up. She’d been too worried about him then. Now, she was worried about herself.
She swallowed and, realizing her throat was dry, took a long drink from her canteen. Ugh! The water tasted like hot metal, but at least it was wet. Wiping her hand across her mouth, she recapped the canteen. Then, shaking it slightly, she realized she’d need to ration her water. “Well, crap. Something else to be wary of, I guess,” she muttered to herself.
“Of course, I took the one vehicle that had a half-drunk canteen of water in it. Hrmph.” She shook her head in distaste and disbelief at what had become her lot for all her efforts.
She looked longingly at the canteen, as she dreamed of another long pull. She sighed, and slung the canteen back over her shoulder. “Noah Ashbridge had better make a show of his appreciation when I get back.”
If I make it back. She tried to shake off the negativity that washed over her, but the night had grown colder, and she had no idea where she was. With no food, no sleep, and very little water, she was beginning to get delirious.
Was that a cave? Miss Welker wondered, as she set off to what she hoped was shelter.
She staggered toward it, stumbling over her now leaden feet. Utter exhaustion found her crumpled for a few minutes, less than a dozen feet away from the cave. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute vied with pull yourself together woman and get to shelter. You’re…almost…there…
She pulled herself up to her knees, the drum and canteen dangling at either side of her, and crawled to the cave. She moved slowly. The items she wore bore a steady beat as she moved.
As she crawled into the cave, she untethered herself from her burdens, and tapped her communicator. She remembered she was on the frequency that signaled only Noah. She had to tell him where she was. It was
either have the patrol squad from Noah’s camp rescue her or risk Thomas Knight’s people intercepting the signal.
Noah would come or send someone for her. She knew he would. She had faith in him.
She worried briefly about “that Alexia woman”. Knight’s tech ninja. They couldn’t afford her being able to find them. “I’m just too exhausted to move, too dehydrated. I need sleep, fluid, and food,” she muttered to herself, as she waited for Noah to pick up on the signal.
The slight beep in her ear signaled the tracking had begun. She hoped the red flashing button could draw Noah’s eyes away from his grandfather’s journal.
”Noah,” whispered Miss Welker softly, as she closed her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat thinking of him. He could piss her off more often than not, but there was just something about him she couldn’t escape.
Three
Thomas Knight’s tent was full. Robbie, Dr. Cunningham, Pediah, Alexia, Mochni, and Stephen Matthews sat in a tight semi-circle in front of his desk. Tension was thick, and emotions ran high. Thomas had finally gotten everyone settled down and had saved Matthews from a beating, when Robbie heard about how the drum had been stolen.
Matthews looked at his hands. He couldn’t look up. He felt awful. His eyes were glued to his ring finger, as he twisted the band in nervous anticipation. He could almost feel Robbie Blake’s angry glances and winced at the pain he’d caused.
If looks could kill, he thought, as he listened to Thomas speak.
“So, in a nutshell, Abby is trapped with potentially hostile Woidnuk deep in the caves under Death Valley,” explained Thomas as he wrapped up his debriefing session with Dr. Cunningham and Stephen Matthews, the foreman-in-charge.
“Not only that,” he went on, “But, the drum is on the loose. An ancient artifact, which if beaten, will make those docile creatures outside go crazy. And without that drum, we have no way to get Abby back, as that was the condition. We return the drum. They return Abby,” he finished, looking pointedly at Matthews.
