by Rob Buckman
The panic slowly seeped away, until at last she could look up and examine the cave around her. There wasn't much to see. The rough texture of the roof arching above her head stood out in hard black and white shadows as the light spilled away down the tunnel. The edge of panic started to grip her again and she quickly looked down, seeing the water starting to boil. With an effort, she pushed it away and poured the water into the cups, adding cream and sugar, putting more in Mike's as she knew he liked his sweet with lots of cream. By now, her hearing had returned and she heard Mike crawling back up the tunnel, and as he came up, she handed him his cup. He half sat half lay beside her, sipping the warm brew, dripping wet and covered in mud. He didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at her, a slight smile on his face.
"Lady, you're as tough as you are beautiful!" He saluted her with his cup and gave her a wink.
"You're not so bad yourself." His smile was contagious, and she felt her lips stretch in response with the panic monster retreating back to its lair to await another day.
"Well, if nothing else. We won’t have to worry about them following us for a while."
"How come?"
"That little bang dumped about a ton of rock on the other side of that opening." He nodded towards the hole, seeing the startled look come into her face. He realized a second too late the effect his words had on her.
"Not to worry," he said quickly. "There's a way out down below that leads to another large cavern," thus partially rectifying the damage.
"Are you sure?" Her voice said the panic had started to come back.
"Hell yes. I think we're home free."
"How do you know?" Kat desperately wanted his reassurance.
"I went through and had a quick look and can hear water running down there. Which mean there's a way out?" He didn't add that it might be an underground river that vanished down some deep hole that they could never swim through. "This is good coffee, thanks."
"You're welcome."
"You want to rest, or go on?"
"Go on of course." Kat knew that if they stayed here too long she might not be able to go on at all. She had to get her mind onto another track.
"You think they will still come after us?"
"I don't see how. There is no way they are going to get through that lot before we are long gone. If there is another way down I don't know it, and nor do they." Mike packed the stove away, zipped up the pack and started back down the tunnel, crawling on hands and knees. "Kat, we've got one bad spot to get through; you think you're up to it?" He said over his shoulder.
“I hope so, tell me about it."
"This tunnel drops rather steeply further along, and we'll have to go down feet first. Don't worry, there's plenty of room to turn around. At the bottom is what is known in the trade as a sink hole or pee trap."
"A what?"
"You ever looked under a sink?"
"Yes."
"You remember seeing a 'U' shaped bend under there?"
"Oh yes."
"Well, it's like that. The only way to get through it is on your back, head first."
"That's not so bad."
"No it isn't. The bad part is, it's full of mud and water. You start on your back, headfirst. When you get half way through you sit up on the other side, then turn around until you face the other wall. It's the only way you can get your legs through"
"That's bad." Thinking about it sent a shiver up her spine.
"Not really, you just take a deep breath and wiggle your way through. Don't forget, I'll be on the other side to help you through."
"I don't suppose there's another way to..." The words died in her throat.
If there had been another way, Mike would have found it. As they crawled along, both heard a muffled explosion echoed down to them through the rock, followed a few moments later by a cloud of dust.
"What the hell are they up to?" Mike said aloud.
"Probably sealing the shaft behind us?"
"You might be right." They both listened for a second, but nothing further could be heard. Mike moved, coming to a stop a few feet further on. Kat bumped into his backside.
"Now what?" She asked.
"Shhhh!"
"What?"
"Shhhh. You hear anything?"
"Like what?"
"Like running water."
"No. But you told me there a river down there."
"That's on the other side of the sink hole, you wouldn't hear it from here. Listen!" There was no missing it now, the sound of rushing water becoming more distinct by the second.
"Oh shit! Quick, as fast as you can."
"What! What!"
"Shut up and move it." Mike ignored everything, crawling as fast as he could on hands and knee. It was a long time since childhood and they were both out of practice. It was surprising how fast you can move on hands and knees when you have to. They both picked up bumps, bruises, skinned hands, and sore knees by the time they reached the down slope. Even so, the first trickle of water caught up with them as they did.
"Mike! Tell me what's happening?" Panic had started to come back.
"Bastards! Bastards! Bastards! They blew the damn lake."
"They WHAT!"
"That explosion we heard? They blew the sand and rock away and diverted the fucking lake down the shaft."
"Oh, my god!"
"Of all the rotten..." Mike bit down on his words.
There was no need to expose Kat to his proficiency in swearing. Besides that, he was getting an education into her proficiency as it was. For a full three minutes, she turned the air blue. It was only later that he fully savored her use of syntax and Anglo Saxon English. She managed to describe the heritage, lineage, parental preference, and sexual habits of the men responsible in one breath. They scrambled for their lives feet first down a forty-five degree angle shaft, mud, rock and water pouring pass them. It wasn't a large flow as yet, more like a fast trickle. Mike knew the moment the water removed the sand and debris at the bottom of that shaft, it would come pouring though here in a river. At last, they reached the bottom, the sinkhole filling fast. Mike pulled some nylon cord out of his patch pocket and cut and tied a length to the end handle on each pack.
"I'll go through first, when I tug on each rope, help the packs through."
"Right." Taking his helmet and light off he stuffed them into the waterproof pack and zipped it shut, pulling a waterproof flashlight out of a side pocket. Emptying his pocket, he dumped the contents in before zipping it shut.
"Make sure your pockets are empty, otherwise you might get hung up going through."
Kat didn't argue, just complied with his instructions, watching as Mike lay there breathing in and out rapidly, purging CO2 and storing oxygen. Without warning, he pushed with his feet, wiggling his head and shoulders down into the water. All went well until only his legs remained. Then he stopped and his arms began to flail around as if he was in trouble. Quickly Kat grabbed his legs and pulled, digging her feet in and climbing back up the incline. At last, he sat and swore.
"Damn it Kat! What the hell are you doing?"
"I thought you were drowning! Excuse me." She snapped back.
"Christ. Not your fault, I suppose it must have looked that way from your point of view."
"So why did you stop and start flailing around like that?!"
"The damn water is bringing down a lot of debris. It's clogging the bottom of the sink."
"Oh, my god! Does this get any better?"
"Not to worry, that's what I was doing before you hauled me back. I was clearing the sump out."
"Anything I can do?"
"Hell yes. Keep pushing this muck off to the side and stop it falling down into the trap."
Before she could say a word, he'd taken a deep breath, ducking under water again. Doing what looked like the breaststroke on his back, mud, water and rock sloping off to the side each time his arms came back. Coming back up, he took another deep breath and went under again, this time vanishing up
to his knees. Even as Kat watched, the water became deeper, coming over the soles of his boots. This time it was a scramble for him to get back, but he made it.
"Holy shit! That's not funny. Didn't think I was going to make it that time."
"Mike! Tell me the truth. Can we make it?"
"Lady we have no other choice. Water is going to be coming down here in waves in a few seconds. When that happens it’s going to carry so much debris, it'll clog that sink so we'll never be able to clear it. The stream will wash the sump clean, but only after we’ve drowned."
"Then what?" She asked, dreading the answer.
"We get through or we drown." Even as they were speaking, the sump was filling fast. "I'm going down, and this time and I'm not coming back. I think I can clear enough to get through in one breath." Mike took one last look into her eyes.
"I love you Kat Ballard." With that, he was gone.
"I love you." Kat whispered into the emptiness of the cave and her soul. Because if he didn't come back, she would be dead. Without warning the rope in her hand jerked, making her jump in surprise. He'd made it. Quickly, she lowered the first of the bags into the rising water, watching it vanish as Mike dragged it through. Kat dreaded what was going to happen next, as one by one the bags disappeared. Then it was her turn and she tried to remember what he said.
'First on your back, head down. Wiggle your way through and sit up. Turn round and pull your legs through and stand up.' It sounded so simple when he'd said it. Now she had to do it. As she made up her mind, she heard a distinct roaring sound up the tunnel. The water had broken through. Without hesitation, she dived into the muddy brown water, flipping over onto her back. Now the darkness was complete as her flashlight went out. It didn't matter. She couldn't see anything anyway. Feeling around she felt the bottom lip of the sump above her head and wiggled in, water and blood pressure roaring in her ears. Somewhere in the darkness two strong hands found her, first gently pulling until her upper body was through. She then felt her arm being crossed and knew it was time to turn around. She did, or tried to. As she turned round her legs became crossed, and with rocks and debris piling up around her feet, she became stuck. Frantically she kicked, pushing the rocks back, trying to clear a path for her feet. It was impossible to hold her breath and she started to let it out, knowing she was going to die. Dizzy with lack of oxygen she started to fantasize. Two warm lips were pressed against hers, and life-giving air was forced into her mouth.
'What a beautiful dream' she thought. But it wasn't, Mike was forcing air into her lungs, just like CPR. He pulled away for a moment, then came back with more life giving air, then twice more. The third time he dived pass her and pulled on each leg until it came free, standing her up. Even then the water was up to their chins.
"Quick, start climbing."
Kat didn't need any prompting but in her weakened state, she needed Mike’s push from behind to get her to the top. A last they both rolled out of the sump and lay gasping for air. A few moments later water welled up, pouring over the lip and on down the tunnel in a torrent.
"Come on Kat. There's a small lake down here. It's warm, and we can clean up there and get some food in us." Mike wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep, but knew that in their condition that could be fatal. He half-carried half walked her down the tunnel. This one was head high and clear of overhangs. They bathed, ate and slept, waking some ten hours later, cold and hungry, and ate again.
"Where do we go from here Mike?" Kat asked, sipping her second cup of coffee. A survival blanket wrapped around her body.
"Your guess is as good as mine. From the look of these caves I'd say we were near the bottom of the mountain."
"It's a pity you didn't think to pack a change of clothes, it looks as if you packed everything else." He chuckled and shook his head.
"Not quite, but I do try and plan for the unexpected."
"And why would you do that?" Kat liked the sound of his laugh, strong and masculine. It sent warm feelings through her body.
"I have had the unexpected happen to me on more than one occasion." Kat saw the smile slip, as if he'd remembered something.
"I take it that it's something you're afraid to tell me."
"Yes, it is." He knew that now was the time to tell her, wondered how she was going to take it.
"Tell me anyway Mike, please." He sat there looking at her for a moment, wanting so badly to take her in his arms. To hold her and kiss her. First, he had to tell her, to see her reaction. He had to know if it was going to stand between them.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
"I'm an assassin Kat, or use to be. I worked for the CIA for many years, killing people on order for my country." He held his breath, waiting.
"Go on, tell me about it." Slowly, he let out the breath, the first hurdle passed. The look on her face hadn't changed, it hadn't turned to disgust or contempt. All he could see in her eyes was love.
Sipping his coffee, he told her everything, leaving nothing out. She had a right to know what kind of man he was. And what he'd done. Some of it, he wasn't proud of, and would never be able to forget. Through it all Kat sat and listened, knowing she was seeing into the soul of the man she loved; knowing the pain he was going through to tell her his story. At last he fell silent, the story done, waiting for her reaction. Kat thought about what he'd said. Trying to see that man behind the deeds. She could see he was waiting for an answer, knowing if she answered wrong, she'd lose him forever. She tried to analyze her feeling, finding her gut reaction was shock. Over the past few days, thoughts about what he did for a living had crossed her mind. Never imagining this. He had killed for a living, and was now killing so they could survive. If he weren’t who he was, they would be dead now. They could still be killed, even if they did get out of this cave. The men would still be waiting, ready to kill them on sight. The only shield they had to keep them alive was Mike's experience, and talent for killing. Without that, their chances were zero.
"What do you feel when you kill someone Mike?" she asked at length.
"It depends on who it is." He hadn't expected the question, and wasn't sure how to answer it.
"Tell me what you feel when you kill someone." He nodded then, understanding he question at last.
"When I received an assignment, I always insisted on knowing why the person had to be killed. In that respect, my boss was always careful. I was given a full background on the person, a checkable background." He busied himself making another cup of coffee while he talked. "Most of the people I killed deserved it. Some were major drug dealers, or importers. A few were international terrorists, some politicians, or dictators. I took out one or two arms dealers, plus five war criminals that the law couldn't touch."
"Were there any that didn't deserve to die?"
"I don't think so."
"So you were doing this for your country?" He nodded in answer.
"You still haven't answered my question." He looked at her and gave her a sad, lop sided smile.
"When I took the jobs, I always saw it as a challenge. Most of my targets were in places where other assassins couldn't get to them. That was why they gave them to me. I'd work out ways to get them, finding a position, or forcing them into a position where I could kill them." He sipped the hot brew, gathering his thoughts. "I always saw my target as a person, always remembering what they had done, and why they were dieing. Some assassins have little or no feelings about killing. I do. To me it's an art, something I do well, and take pride in. My kills were quick and clean, with no innocent bystanders hurt."
"So you became judge, jury, and executioner?" There was neither accusation nor condemnation in her question. Just a statement of fact.
"That's right. The law could never get to these people. They would have carried on with what they were doing for a long time. Many innocent people are alive today because I was willing to take that responsibility."
"Yet you stopped, why?"
"I found that there are two people I will not kill. A friend, and children. The 'Company' told me to kill a friend. I told them to go pound sand in their collective asses."
"I can bet that went over well." She said with a chuckle.
"It didn't. They threatened me with dire consequences,” he said with a shrug. "It didn't matter. I just quit, walked out on them, and never looked back."
"Aren't you afraid they'll kill you?" She asked.
"No." He answered.
"Why not?"
"Because I already know when I am going to die." He smiled when he said it, as if he had a secret.
"What do you mean, you know when you are going to die?"
"That's another story."
"All right, you can tell me when we get out of this. But tell me when you found this out at least."
"I found it out the first time I died." Mike could see it written on her face.
"The first time you died?" She shook her head in confusion.
"Another time and another place Kat, trust me."
"All right Mike, I will. But tell me this. Do you love me?"
"Yes,” he said, without hesitation.
"Then that's all that counts. What is passed, is passed. Without it, I doubt I'd be alive, thank you for that" and leaned over to kiss him. He nodded in understanding. She'd accepted him for what he was. For better or worse, the final wall between them was gone. To cover his feelings, Mike took the cleaning kit out of his bag and began stripping the weapons. One by one, he cleaned and oiled them. Concentrating on what he was doing, while his feelings sorted themselves out.
