“Phil, when I give you the word, follow me.”
“What?”
“Ready … go!”
Sam popped up from their hiding place and sprinted toward the gunfire on the far end of the cavern. Phil, bewildered, followed as closely as he could. Bullets whizzed by them as they ran and Sam felt a small searing heat near her right shoulder blade, but didn’t pause to investigate. Stopping meant certain death, and she wasn’t ready to give up yet. They ran for what seemed like an eternity, the combination of fear, exertion and dust draining their lungs of air. Sam felt like her chest was caught in a vise, squeezing the oxygen out of her, but she didn’t break stride. Run or die were the words that kept flashing through her mind.
She sensed a bullet whiz by right behind her.
“Sam!”
Sam stopped suddenly, almost falling over her feet, and turned, sensing that something was wrong. “Phil, where are you?”
Writhing on the floor of the cavern in terrible pain, Phil could barely speak. Sam nearly tripped over him in the darkness. Without speaking another word, she reached out and yanked him to his feet, threw his left arm behind her neck, and carried him to the safety of the side tunnel. Upon turning the corner, the two archaeologists slumped their backs against the cold, hard wall.
Phil was clearly in pain, and his breathing was labored. Sam reached into her pocket and found her keychain with a single LED light fastened to the loop. “Where are you hit, Phil?”
“Right … side … chest.”
Sam could see the entry wound and unbuttoned Phil’s shirt to reveal a large, circular bloody indentation below his right breast. Phil wasn’t bleeding badly, but he couldn’t breathe. The bullet had pierced his right lung, leaving him virtually unable to walk.
“Sam … go without me.”
Tears welling in her eyes, Sam replied through gritted teeth, “I’m not leaving you.” Her body was beaten and exhausted from a lack of sleep, and the physical punishment dealt by her captors, but she refused to leave him here to die. Summoning strength from somewhere deep in the recesses of her soul, she lifted Phil onto her shoulder again and the two trudged forward into the bowels of dark cavern.
* * * *
In another tunnel, Randall sat quietly, waiting. Having been brought along by Kristoph and his men, Randall had been instructed to sit quietly while Kristoph’s mercenaries dealt with Dumond. Now, waiting in the darkness while the gun battle raged, Randall swore he heard his daughter’s voice. Seeing the two shadowy figures running for the side tunnel made his heart jump at the thought that Sam might be alive. Randall estimated that the tunnel was about 50 yards to his right and down the main shaft of the tunnel, right where the most brutal part of the battle was raging. Making a break for it was most certainly suicidal, but he had little choice, if he wanted to see Sam again. The chaos of the gun battle was the perfect distraction. Except for the one guard, nearby, no one was paying attention to him. Randall shuffled his feet on the ground around him, until he finally found what he was looking for. He would have to time this perfectly for his plan to work. After a couple of minutes, the opportunity presented itself. A stray bullet ricocheted several feet above their heads, close enough that Randall dropped to the floor as if dodging it in fear. The guard, sensing his drop, reached down and grabbed him by the back of his collar, hauling him back up to his feet. Randall had had just enough time to grab the fist-sized rock.
Feigning a loss of balance, Randall successfully goaded the guard into reaching over in an attempt to catch him as he fell. Now with the side of his head exposed, Randall swung the rock as hard as he could. The guard, sensing the impending blow, reached up with his left hand just in time to deflect Randall’s hand enough to make it a glancing blow. Still, the hit was strong enough to cause the guard to stagger backward. Randall, realizing that he had stunned the guard, but not enough to make a break for it, launched himself at the mercenary like a linebacker punching through an offensive line. He hit the guard squarely in his chest with his shoulder blade, driving him back. The guard’s arms flailed wildly, striking blows on the top of Randall’s head in a vain attempt to defend himself from his attacker.
Catching himself, the guard managed to regain his balance, stopping his rearward progression. Now, in a much stronger position to defend himself, the guard, hands clasped together above his head, whipped a crippling blow down upon Randall’s forehead. Randall heard the snapping sound of his nose breaking. Although he was in excruciating pain, Randall flung both forearms upward, under the chin of his captor, driving his head backward until he felt and heard the sound he hoped for: the sound of the mercenary’s head hitting solid rock, the sickening cracking sound of a shattering egg as it impacted the wall. The mercenary fell to the ground limply as Randall staggered back. Seeing the man go down, Randall made a break for the tunnel on the right.
Pumping his legs as quickly as he could, it seemed as if Randall was running in slow motion. Just like in a dream, the harder he ran, the slower he seemed to move. As he looked at his intended destination, it seemed impossibly out of reach. Randall could feel every heartbeat and could taste the blood, sweat, and dust coating the inside of his mouth.
Putting his head down, he trudged forward, dodging bullets and bits of rocky debris as he ran. But his attempt to escape did not go unnoticed. Out of the corner of his eye, illuminated by the bursts of fire from the automatic weapons, Randall saw a solitary figure drop to one knee and raise his weapon directly at him. Somehow he knew it was Middleton. Through the muzzle flashes, he could see the other man estimating his speed and carefully aiming his gun so that his shot would lead the Professor just enough for the bullet to hit him squarely in his body. The wall above Randall’s head exploded with a force that sent him sprawling backward onto the ground. Randall regained his focus just in time to see a shoebox-sized rock tumbling directly toward him. Quickly, he rolled to his right as the boulder smashed into the ground where his torso had been just seconds earlier.
Rising to his feet, he resumed his mad dash for the tunnel, not realizing that the explosion had knocked him off course, saving his life. Glancing in Middleton’s direction, Randall could see him reloading his weapon and once again taking aim. Randall was still several yards from reaching the tunnel. He could sense Middleton looking through the sight of his assault rifle and knew he would not miss again. Randall heard the sound of a gun blast coming from Middleton’s direction and winced uncontrollably. A moment later he reached the entrance to the tunnel. Somehow, Middleton had missed.
As he rounded the corner of the tunnel, Randall fell to the ground in a heap. His oxygen-deprived lungs burned with such intensity that he felt as if they had burst into flames within the cavity of his chest. Slowly, his breathing became more normal, allowing him to drag himself to his feet again. He had to find out if in fact he had seen Sam running in this direction only minutes earlier.
* * * *
It was slow going for Sam and Phil, as she tried to carry their combined weight down the dark tunnel. Phil’s breathing was becoming more labored and his body was limper than it had been at the tunnel entrance. Sam realized that if she didn’t find him medical help soon, he wouldn’t make it. She was also exhausted and knew that she had to stop and take a short rest. She leaned over and gently set Phil on the cold floor of the cavern, struggling to keep her balance. Sam then lowered herself to the floor next to Phil and held his head while she tried to regain her strength. The two were engulfed by the silence and the enormity of the darkness that surrounded them. Aside from the small LED light Sam held, the tunnel was pitch black and the only audible sound was the sound of their breathing.
For a moment, Sam allowed the darkness and quiet to sweep over her as she tried to relax her body. But she heard more than the sound of their breathing. There was something else. Sam closed her eyes tightly and listened. There was another sound so faint that she could barely detect it. Like a small child playing hide-n-go seek, Sam held her breath so she could listen w
ith greater sensitivity. Then she heard a sound that immediately filled her with dread. Someone was coming. Sam could hear the repetitive and unrelenting cadence of boot steps hitting the ground. Her eyes popped open and she wrestled with Phil, pulling him to his feet. She wasn’t going to come this far just to let one of those bastards get them.
She stumbled forward with Phil, dragging the nearly incoherent graduate student another ten yards, but she could still hear the footfalls getting closer. She scanned the area with her feeble little light, looking for anything that might help defend them. Seeing a small opening ahead, around a curve in the side of the tunnel, she willed the two of them forward. The opening was large enough to fit one of them, and Sam gently set her friend into the crevice. Their pursuer was getting closer now; she didn’t have much time. She needed a weapon. Sam dropped to her hands and knees, hoping to find something. At last, she settled on a large rock and quickly ran to the wall opposite Phil. Her strategy was simple. She would wait for her attacker to round the curve, hoping that he would see the opening and go to investigate it. She would then have a split second to drive the rock into the back of his head and hopefully knock him unconscious. Turning off her light Sam waited in the darkness. She could hear the footsteps getting louder and then begin to slow. She raised the rock and prepared to strike.
* * * *
In the beam of his flashlight, Randall could see a small fissure in the side of the tunnel in front of him. It looked like something was inside the opening, and he slowed as he approached it, shining his light directly into it. As he approached, it became evident that a person was inside the crevice, but was not moving. He drew closer, moving slowly and carefully, unsure if he was approaching a trap. Moving to within several feet of the opening, Randall swung his light toward the wall opposite the opening just as a figure leapt out at him, swinging a large rock with deadly menace. He had time to utter one word. “Sam!”
She froze, recognizing the voice instantly. “Dad?”
“It’s me, sweetheart, I found you!”
The two embraced, Randall’s arms engulfing his daughter in a bear hug. “I thought you were dead. Is it really you?” Sam said, tears welling in her eyes.
“It’s me Sam, thank God you’re alright. I thought for sure I would never see you again, but then I heard you call Phil’s name in the cavern, and I knew it was you. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, but Phil was shot in the chest. He’s dying, Dad, and we need to get him help quickly.”
Realizing that the body in the opening was Phil, Randall quickly turned his light toward the opening again and gently retrieved his graduate student. Laying him on the floor of the tunnel, Randall examined his student’s condition. He had a rapid, weak, pulse and his skin was cold and clammy. Randall shined the light near Phil’s face and could see that he was very pale, and his breathing was shallow and rapid. Phil was showing all the signs of acute hemorrhagic shock, and Randall knew that if they didn’t get him medical attention soon, his cardiovascular system itself would become damaged and deteriorate to the point of death.
“You’re right, we need to get Phil out of here.”
Chapter twenty-one
The firefight had been brutal with both sides suffering severe casualties. But it wasn’t over, yet. Like two vicious dogs locked in mortal combat, both sides took defensive positions, trying to assess their damage as bullets continued to fly. Dumond’s team had taken the worst of the battle, cut in half by the surprise attack and losing Captain Middleton, who had taken a round to the side of his head while trying to shoot Randall as he escaped down the tunnel. Ackers and his men had to use the bodies of their fallen comrades as shields against the withering attack. Kristoph’s team also suffered casualties, but worse, they had lost Randall.
“Captain, send men to follow Randall and his daughter, find them, and bring them back to me,” Kristoph ordered.
“Yes, sir,” said Captain Sauder, who dispatched four men in search of the Professor and his daughter.
Kristoph knew that he finally had Dumond where he wanted him. He and his team of mercenaries were pinned down across the chasm with little cover to protect them and even less chance of escaping unharmed. Having seen the tunnel to the right of them, two of Kristoph’s men now had that route covered. They also had a clear view and control of the tunnel to the left. Any of Dumond’s men attempting to make a break for either exit would have to traverse a 20-yard-wide open span with Kristoph’s men’s guns trained on them. It would be suicide, and Kristoph would be happy to grant them their wish. In his near euphoric state, Kristoph had not noticed that Gerhardt had moved closer to him, gun in hand. When he heard the pistol cock, Kristoph turned his head to see that his friend had a 9 mm pistol pointed at his nose.
“What are you doing, Gerhardt?”
“Tell your men to lower their weapons,” Gerhardt replied.
“I don’t understand.”
“Tell them now, Kristoph!”
“Captain, tell your men to lower their weapons,” Kristoph ordered.
“But, sir!” the captain replied.
“Now Captain!”
“Men, lower your weapons,” Sauder ordered.
Dumond slowly and carefully made his way over to Kristoph, flanked by Ackers and his men, who had already begun disarming Kristoph’s people. The look on Kristoph’s face was utter bewilderment at the turn of events unfolding before him. Once again, Dumond wore the same expression that he’d had on his face many years ago in Finland, but this time, Kristoph realized he would never again see that look. Slowly, he turned to face the man who had been his closest confidant for so many years. Many thoughts raced through his mind as he looked upon his own personal Judas, but only one word truly described his feelings: betrayal.
“How could you do this to me, after all the years we‘ve worked together?”
“You mean after years of listening to you ranting and raving about idiotic nonsense? Years of being ordered about like a small child or a dullard?” Gerhardt replied.
“You were always well compensated for your work,” Kristoph said.
“Don’t take it personally, Kristoph, it’s simply business. My offer was better than yours,” Dumond said, raising a pistol to Kristoph’s head and firing at point blank range. “Dispose of the others.”
“Your orders, Mr. Dumond?” asked Ackers.
“Follow Randall and his daughter into the tunnel,” Dumond replied, reaching down to take the medallion from Kristoph’s dead hands. “Pity, it seems he didn’t want to let this go.
* * * *
Randall had taken up the task of carrying Phil through the dark, winding tunnels. He could plainly see that his daughter was exhausted, but, as had always been the case with Sam, she wouldn’t dare show outward signs of weakness. They moved with a quickness that bordered on franticness, realizing that both groups of mercenaries were only a short distance away and, therefore, death followed closely.
As they moved through the dark in tomblike silence, other passageways crisscrossed their tunnel at semi-regular intervals. The underground caverns were a web-like collection of passageways, presenting an almost infinite number of possibilities. This fact was at once comforting and disturbing at the same time. It meant it would be more difficult for Dumond, Kristoph and their men to follow them, but also that Randall, Samantha and Phil could become hopelessly lost. This possibility meant almost certain death for Phil in his condition, so they had decided that they would travel along the same path and hope that it led to … what exactly? This was the unspoken question on Randall’s mind. Was he hoping that he had actually found the underground city and that his vision had not been a hallucination?
“I need to take a quick breather,” Randall said, gently setting Phil down. He then took his light and set it on a rock, illuminating a patch of ground for them to sit on.
Sam sat down next to him and, judging by the way she was fiddling with her hair, she was thinking about something, but wasn’t sure if she wanted to
share it with him. Randall walked over to his daughter and sat down next to her.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”
Sam took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.
“I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry I’ve pushed you away for so long. Losing Mom was hard on me, and I couldn’t help but blame you. There were so many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call you. It’s just that you were so focused on this theory, and I felt like you were choosing your research over us.”
“I’m the one that owes you an apology. You’re right about my research taking over my life. I just couldn’t let it go. I was so damned angry at the way some of my colleagues treated me that I let it consume me. People who I thought were my friends just turned on me, and I felt like I had to prove to them and myself, that I wasn’t crazy. Looking back, it just wasn’t worth it. If I had known what it was going to do to our family, I would have dropped it.”
Sam leaned into her dad and sobbed, softly.
“Losing your mother nearly killed me and knowing that I hurt you was almost more than I could take. You and your brother are the two most important people in my life, and I want you to know that I will never let anything come between us again.”
Randall pulled his daughter closer and held her as she cried.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, we’re together, again, and that’s all that matters now.”
After a short while, she looked up at him, wiping her eyes.
The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel Page 11
