The light was blinding, like the pictures she’d seen of Heaven cutting through the dark clouds and shining down in warm streaks on the earth and all of mankind. After all her time in the catacombs, she thought maybe it was Heaven and as the opening grew she was drawn toward the light. She climbed the stairway, prepared to meet her maker or just about anything else that waited on the other side of the crypt.
Unfortunately, what waited on the other side wasn’t ready for her.
Chapter Eleven
They were all dressed in black.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the late afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows of the little church, but the black spots rapidly took the shape of half a dozen people.
The silence was absolute as she rose from the crypt, and Danielle wondered if her ears weren’t working properly either, when a hunched figure at the head of another stone slab raised her gnarled hand and pointed in her direction.
She couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly beneath the black veil that shrouded her features. The keening wail that erupted from the elderly figure startled Danielle and she spun around in an attempt to see what horrific apparition could possibly be standing behind her to elicit such a dire reaction.
She caught her own reflection in a small mirror above the baptismal fountain and almost cried out in shock as the ghostly image of a young woman, wrapped in spider webs and covered in dust, stared back with equal alarm.
Screams broke out from the people on the other side of the room when she moved, and they nearly trampled each other to get out the front door of the church. The elderly matriarch of the family collapsed onto the flagstones beneath the crypt in a dead faint, leaving only the priest who didn’t look a bit frightened, though she might have preferred it to the look of anger that overtook his flushed face.
Danielle had obviously interrupted a funeral, and maybe even caused the need for another as she glanced at the still figure lying on the floor. It was apparent that no one was going to attend to the poor lady, so she decided the least she could do was climb the rest of the way out of the passage to see if she was still breathing.
Her legs were a little shaky, but she swung them over the edge as she slid down the side of the heavy stone until her feet found solid ground. As she approached the pile of fabric that contained the old woman, the priest sprung into action, positioning himself between Danielle and her latest victim.
His finger practically flew off his hand, he was waving it so vigorously in her direction, and the words poured from his mouth so rapidly she didn’t even try to understand what he was saying.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten anyone,” Danielle spoke slowly, holding out her hands in an apologetic way.
This method of communication only seemed to make it worse, and the priest renewed his incomprehensible lecture, crossing himself repeatedly while pointing to the crypt where she had emerged and then back to the place where the funeral party had been.
“Listen, I don’t have time to learn Spanish—or whatever it is you’re speaking, so you’re going to have to calm down long enough for me to show you what’s going on.”
She held her hands out flat and made lowering gestures with them in an attempt to get her point across. Though she hadn’t thought it possible before, his face turned several deeper shades of red and she wondered if she had inadvertently found a way of offending him without even speaking his language.
“There’s a sick man at the bottom of the steps below the crypt,” the words burst out of her mouth in frustration. “And there is a woman on the floor behind you! All you plan on doing is standing here, reading me the riot act when the lives of other people hang in the balance?”
Her admonishing tone didn’t carry well with the rosy-faced man in the black robes, and she could see he probably wouldn’t listen to her even if he could understand every word she said. She could feel her eyes begin to tear up, and she quickly turned her head so the beast of a man wouldn’t have the pleasure of her distress.
“I just found you, Jake Wilde, and now I’m afraid I’m going to lose you as quickly. I don’t know what to do,” she whispered the words to herself like it was a prayer. What was it Jake had said to her earlier? He wanted something to believe in, just that once…
Danielle was so lost in thought she didn’t notice the blessed silence which followed the priest’s rant and was almost startled when he stepped close to her.
“Jake Wilde?” he said the words smoothly, with a questioning look in his eyes. All the anger was gone, and he seemed like a different person altogether as he cocked his head to one side, waiting for her to speak again.
“Jake!” she gasped, repeating a word she knew he could comprehend. “He desperately needs help. I don’t think I can get him up those stairs by myself and he’s not doing very well at all right now.”
“Professor Wilde?” he said again in that lilting tone, and she could see now he was trying to understand her.
“Oh, thank God, yes!”
Overwhelming relief flooded through her body, and the tears ran down her face unchecked, but this time they were tears of pure joy and thankfulness.
Now that she had his attention, she immediately went to the open crypt, and he followed closely on her heels. The waning daylight streamed down to the bottom and they were both able to see Jake lying in the exact same position she had left him. For a minute it looked like he wasn’t breathing, and a cold wave of panic swept over her before he took a ragged breath. The sound of it rattling in his chest was clearly audible to the two standing at the top.
The priest murmured a few reverent words as he crossed himself again, and Danielle didn’t need to speak his language to understand he was praying.
He briskly snapped his fingers, and two altar boys came out of nowhere to assist him, following what must have been a set of instructions as he gestured down the stairs. Without hesitation, they climbed down and carried him sideways up the steep incline, with his arms draped over their shoulders.
Jake didn’t make any effort to help support himself at all as they carried him to a bare wooden bench underneath the nearby window. Danielle hoped it was because he had exhausted him energy reserves helping her get through the catacombs and not because his condition was worsening.
She kneeled on the hard stone floor next to him, unaware of any discomfort it caused her. It was alarming to see his beautiful, bronzed skin so pale and she brushed the sweat off his forehead with gentle fingertips.
“This is your things,” a soft voice said at her shoulder, pulling her focus away from Jake as one of the young boys carefully set their bags next to the bench.
“You speak English!” She nearly grabbed the child, whose eyes opened wide at her reaction.
“I speak little English.” He nodded to her, looking somewhat uncomfortable as he answered with a rehearsed voice.
“Bad English, Jake Wilde say,” the altar boy added, this time suppressing a smile. The look on his face quickly turned sorrowful as his glance fell on the still figure on the bench, and he placed an understanding hand on Danielle’s shoulder.
She got the feeling these villagers knew him, at least well enough to care about him, and she realized this young man could be her only way to communicate with the people who could help them.
“My name is Danielle.” She tried to structure her sentence in the simplest way possible. The English language was so full of slang and different ways to say something that even with a direct translation it wasn’t always easy to understand what was being said.
“My name is Alvaro,” he repeated her words almost exactly, and she knew it was likely he was much more clever than he let on. “His name is Father Alejo.”
“Does the other boy speak English, too?”
“No. He bring doctor on Jake Wilde.” Alvaro smiled after he was able to answer her question and he seemed more confident.
“And for that sick lady over there?” She turned her head in the dir
ection of veiled woman on the floor. She thought for a brief moment she could see her open eyes through the sheer covering, and she was lying in a much more comfortable position.
Alvaro said something to the Father, who answered with a nonchalant shrug and dismissive wave in the old woman’s direction.
“He say, there is drama queen.” The boy pointed at the heap on the floor, which audibly huffed in displeasure. Alvaro walked across the room and good naturedly offered his hand to the pretending victim, who slapped it away with disdain. Danielle could hardly believe it when she stood up on her own and spiritedly walked right out the front door, nearly bowling over the doctor who was in a hurry to get inside.
The short, squat medicine man failed to impress Danielle at first glance. He looked like he’d have better luck delivering a calf, or at least eating one, if the straining buttons on his coat were any indication. Granted, she had only seen approximately ten or so people inside the church since her arrival, but none of them look so well fed or self important as the new arrival.
Her opinion of him was set in stone as he brusquely pushed her away without a word or kind look, and thankfully Alvaro was there to catch her before she fell tail-end onto the hard stone.
He did a cursory inspection of Jake’s vitals, argued with Father Alejo for a moment and then snapped his equipment bag closed. Danielle didn’t have to watch a few dozen episodes of ER on TV to see he hadn’t done anything at all for Jake and she would have sprinted across the room when the doctor made to leave if Father Alejo hadn’t grabbed him by the shoulder.
The useless practitioner looked at the priest’s hand on his jacket like it carried the plague before he turned his withering glare on the man himself. A few terse words were exchanged, and the portly healer produced a prescription bottle which he held out for inspection. After Father Alejo was satisfied, he withdrew an unknown sum of paper money from the folds of his robes and handed it over in exchange for the bottle.
Alvaro’s face tightened as the doctor snickered and said a few parting words, though the clergyman didn’t show any outward emotion for the statement.
“What did he say?” Danielle leaned in close, as they all watched the retreating figure who hadn’t bothered to close the doors behind him.
“He say…thank church for the donation.”
* * * *
Danielle could not read the writing on the bottle, and the boy could barely read anything at all, so Father Alejo conveyed the directions to the young man who did his best to explain them to her. She knew they were antibiotics from the Latin and was able to tell from the date on the brown vial they were nearly expired and probably written for someone else to boot, but they had little choice at present because she firmly believed if they didn’t do something right away Jake was going to die.
They wrapped him in blankets and propped him up long enough to slip a ground up spoonful of one tablet under his tongue to dissolve. She stayed with him every possible moment, almost unaware of the animated discussion that took place nearby between Alvaro and the Father as she hovered over makeshift bed on the bench.
“Father Alejo calls the cart. One day or two until you come at the village, but I take you there,” the boy informed her once Jake had finally fallen into a deep sleep and his breathing became regular again.
“Where are we going? Do you really think it’s a good idea to move him around when he’s sick like this?” She looked into his uncomprehending eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to answer such intricate questions.
True to her expectations, he merely shrugged and began to lift up their bags. She stood to follow, stepping outside the doors of the church for the first time since they arrived.
To her surprise, they weren’t in the city any longer. In fact, there was no trace of the city at all on the outskirts of this particular village. They must have walked for miles through the catacombs, but in the darkness and endless clutter of the dead it all began to look the same after a while, and she had obviously lost track of the time.
She stood on the main road of the village, possibly the only road in the village, and regarded the crumbling stone houses that flanked each side of the gently sloping cobblestones. Rusty pipes and decayed wood served as hand rails along the steep edges of the broken sidewalks that were mostly trails of beaten down earth.
At the time Danielle assumed Alvaro’s description of a cart was probably a small bus or taxi to get them to the next village, but she could plainly see the weathered old wooden box with two large wheels at the center, and what she could only assume were oxen pulling the vehicle.
She silently wished for a sturdy taxi cab or dilapidated old bus to pull up alongside the medieval contraption and save her, but those hopes were dashed when the altar boy tossed their leather bags into the back of the ramshackle cart.
“This is a Travel Channel moment,” she remarked sarcastically to no one in particular, thinking about how she would have blogged about this ludicrous adventure back in the city.
A toothless character wrapped in colorful blankets leaned against the side of the wagon and flashed his gaping grin as he fluffed up the straw inside the back of the cart.
Obviously, he thought she had high standards.
She kept a wary eye on the driver when the boys went back inside to get their last passenger. The strange looking native had a shifty gaze, and his compulsive grin made her a little nervous, not to mention a bit nauseous.
The young men settled Jake down in the sweet smelling bed of straw as gently as they could, and Danielle was there to cover him with the thickly woven blankets from the church as Alvaro went to the front of the wagon.
The dark skinned villager began to shout at the boy, but the child bravely wrestled the riding crop from his hands, showing every bit of courage anyone would need to face down a shifty character like that. Alvaro grinned triumphantly as he held the crop high over his head in the driver’s seat.
“You see? I take you!” He sat up straight and looked forward at the path ahead.
* * * *
At first Danielle had thought the clouds were dark and low in the sky, but then she realized it was the mountains in the distance that reached halfway to the Heavens. She could barely believe anything could be so beautiful, until Father Alejo gently passed the black case containing the mask into her unsuspecting hands, whispering a few solemn words as he patted her arm fondly. He clearly knew the object inside was important and handled it carefully.
The oxen sluggishly responded to the commands of their new driver, but the creaking cart eventually began its long and slow ascent up the winding road which went on for as far as she could see toward the mountains.
“What did Father Alejo say?” She turned her attention from Jake long enough to question their new guide, who smiled happily.
“He say…‘Complete the balance, wife.’”
Chapter Twelve
The campfire popped and sparked enough that she sat back a short distance even though the warmth it gave off was very appealing. Danielle was beginning to lose her delusion this country should be a tropical paradise and maybe it was in the rain forests on the lower plains, but as they gradually climbed the mountainous regions of Northern Peru the air grew cooler.
There were many times along the trail where their progress seemed agonizingly slow, but the terrain was so rocky and treacherous that she could well understand the need for strong, slow and steady animals to pull the wagon.
The reliable part of her reasoning told her they should have stayed in the village for at least the night and set out at daybreak. It would make the most sense to begin their journey refreshed, and there was also the possibility that Jake would feel better after the medication had a chance to work overnight.
Then there was the other part of her reasoning…the one that ran around in her head all willy-nilly, full of feelings and hunches, which told her they were right to move on as quickly as possible. Staying in one place for too long, especially when people were looking for y
ou, was never a very wise move.
They had traveled for as long as the waning daylight lasted, and then when the stars began to shine in the twilight sky they went further still, until Alvaro found a place behind an outcropping of rock that satisfied his camping requirements.
Though they had worked their way up the steady incline for hours, Danielle was surprised to see the lights from the village still clearly visible behind them. It was difficult to accurately gauge distance from their quitting place in the mountains, though, and she realized with dismay they were still in the foothills.
The small group was well hidden by the massive rock that jutted from the ground like a fist raised toward the sky. While she hoped it hid their firelight from anyone who might be able to see into the foothills from the village, she was grateful for the shelter it gave them. The dry, relentless wind wore away at them and everything on the surface without cessation.
They moved the cart as close to the fire as they dared without taking a chance an errant spark could find its way into the fresh hay bed where the professor was sleeping. She considered asking Alvaro to move him out of the wagon and into the ring of light, but his breathing was becoming deep and regular, and his skin was taking on color again. At the end, they decided he was best off where he was and they would work around his position.
Thick, hardy shrubbery spotted the landscape, and she followed Alvaro’s lead as he pulled up the brown, dried plants by their roots and twisted them tightly together before tossing them onto the fire.
Danielle had done her best to glean as much information from him as possible on the journey, partly because she was eager to discover where the next leg of their adventure would take them, but also because she quickly found out it was much more pleasant to walk alongside the cart in conversation than to ride in the back of it.
Through Ancient Eyes (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 12
