It wasn't very roomy, or clean, but it was a form of protection and underground. Ramona made a mental head count of twelve, including her group. She hoped someone else had thought to grab supplies on their way down as well, because what she had would only last a few days at most. A quick scan revealed not a single person grabbed a thing. Fuck. Someone had to get more.
She’d do it.
The Earth rumbled violently beneath Ramona's feet as she took a step toward the staircase leading back into the store. The sound of crumbling brick and falling rafters ripped screams of terror from the group.
“Moe!” Megan shouted above the noise of the cascading rock. “I think we’re caved in!”
Gasps and sobs echoed off the crumbling brick. Ramona knew before Meg had spoken they were trapped. But she couldn’t worry about that now. They were all still alive and safe. Being caved in away from the chaos and destruction raining down outside was the safest thing in the world at this minute. Yes, she would worry about being trapped later. She would survive for right now.
Ramona glanced down at her wrist watch. Time ticked away ever closer to inevitable death. Shake after shake upset the survivors. Several threw up in between bouts of tears and incoherent prayers. None acknowledged the hysterical screams, or the dying pleas wafting through the pungent air on the outside. The floor buckled with tremendous force. Spikes shot upward through the concrete, robbing the people of their balance. Like bowling pins, the survivors fell and rolled in all directions. Ramona and Meg held onto each other as they fell to the floor and tumbled into a corner.
Abaddon had arrived.
Chapter Four
Dilseacht 1120 A.A. (After Abaddon)
Kald pointed off into the distance after tethering the horses to a nearby tree. “Do you see that, milord?”
Jalomar unsheathed the sword at his side, as did the other four men. Of course he saw it. The storm had passed, and the full moon highlighted the entire meadow. His eyes locked onto the pile of red stone. “What kind of architecture is that? Have there been guards posted?”
Senior Halton shook his head. “I've never seen the likes of it before, milord.”
“Aye,” Kald echoed. “My party scouted it from the tree line for most of the day. There's yet to be any activity nearby.”
The youngest of the Haltons cleared his throat. “Perhaps whoever be responsible for it hides among the trees across the way? My pa here wouldn’t lemme get a snoop on the other side.”
Jalomar grinned at the anxious youth, who was the spitting image of his father and older brother. He’d only recently been allowed to enroll in Dilseacht’s army at barely seventeen summers old—the minimum age to enlist as a lookout. Jalomar placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your father is a wise man, Gerry. Always trust his judgment.”
Senior Halton nodded. “Aye, speaking of judgments, milord. Me boys and I volunteer to approach the structure for closer inspection.”
“Nay. We haven’t ruled out Labelle's involvement. I will not have your young lads fall to an ambush meant for me. Kald and I will advance. You and yours take station among the tree line. Empty your quivers before you join in any fray to come. Gerry is to seek aid from Dilseacht in such an event.”
“Aye, milord,” the three Haltons agreed, taking point behind the sanctuary of foliage with their arrows loaded and cocked.
Jalomar and Kald cleared the forest line without altercation, but remained within running distance of cover in case of enemy fire.
“I don’t see anyone, milord,” Kald said as they crept out into the open meadow.
Jalomar strained to see the across the distance. The unfamiliar rectangular structure could pass for a bunker of sorts. “They could be on the opposite side hiding among the trees. We can reach the assembly in moments if we run. It'll provide adequate cover if they open up.”
Kald nodded, and Jalomar counted to three. Both males sprinted across the field, running in a zigzag pattern to diminish any unseen archer's chance at a straight shot. With back against the strange stone wall, Jalomar listened for signs of a potential trap. He sheathed his sword when all was silent. “Labelle must be slipping, or she has nothing to do with the lights and this peculiar building.”
“You think the Gypsies know anything about it?”
Jalomar laughed. “I doubt it, my friend. It would have been stripped before we arrived. Let's search for an opening.”
The rough stone left little scratches on Jalomar's palm as he felt for any loosened rock. No immediate door could be seen, but he suspected one hid below the crushed burgundy blocks. He motioned for Kald. “Go signal for Halton and his kin. We can have this dug out in a couple of hours. There may be valuables trapped within.”
One by one, Jalomar began removing the rectangle blocks, strategically pulling from all directions evenly to reduce the risk of a cave in. He didn’t want to destroy something of value. For all he knew, a cache of weapons, or buried treasure of past lore lay waiting to be discovered.
Kald returned with the Halton and his boys. Jalomar ordered them to begin extracting the rock carefully.
“Do you think we'll find anything?” Kald asked.
Jalomar shrugged. “We will know by morning light. But I don't suppose we will find anything life altering. Although, a few more relics from the old world would be worth it.”
Chapter Five
Ramona checked her wrist watch, using her thumb nail to press on the mini light inside the face. Morning neared, marking the third day beneath ground. The rubble outside shifted, clattering noisily. The small pebbles cascaded down the basement steps in alarming amounts. She shivered, envisioning rats climbing through the few holes the last day of digging had produced. The holes weren’t quite big enough to escape yet, and much more careful work to avoid another cave-in was ahead, but at least fresh air now blew inside—surprisingly fresh air. When the first hole broke through the thick red brick, the survivors had held their breath expecting to choke on noxious gasses and ash. Instead, they were confronted with crisp air and the last few moments of daylight.
Breandra, the second youngest member at the age of fifteen, sat alone in the farthest corner behind the water heater. The baby cried, despite the gentle lulling from her big sister.
“Breandra,” Ramona whispered softly for the fourth time. “You need to move over here. Take my hand. Let me help with the baby.”
Breandra refused to leave the corner she’d made her sanctuary.
“You have to move away from there, honey. If not for you, but for your sister’s sake.”
Breandra sobbed. “No, I can’t. I… can’t! I won’t!”
From across the room, a much disliked, bitter voice protruded the dankness. “If the little ragamuffin orphan wants to sit there and catch disease from that horrible smelling dead body, let her. One less mouth to feed.”
Ramona growled her frustration deep in her throat. It wasn’t the first time Mrs. Steele had made cruel comments in the direction of the kids. A hand covered hers, and she knew it was Meg trying to maintain the peace. Somehow during the last three days, Ramona had inadvertently become the group’s leader and Megan her second in command.
She’d tried to shirk the responsibilities and simply survive in hopes of a quick rescue, but the other survivors had proven utterly useless and emotional wrecks beneath the stress. Not that she blamed them. After all, they were facing Armageddon. Ramona wasn’t entirely sure how she’d managed to rise to the occasion and function. No doubt being a part of the foster system as a young kid made it easy to recognize they were on their own—those who help themselves win.
Meg leaned over and whispered, “You take care of the kiddos. I’ve got this.” She then turned her attention back to the infamous dragon lady. “Mrs. Steele, are you trying to get the shit smacked outta you?”
Mrs. Steele snorted. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Three days trapped with you? Don’t tempt me, lady.”
Ramona ignored the rest of the con
versation as she set about feeling her way through the darkness toward Breandra and the infant. The teen jumped when Ramona's hand came into contact with her head.
“I said I’m fine,” Breandra hissed and shuffled away.
Instead of pursuing the teen, Ramona plopped down in the warm spot she’d just vacated, trying not to gag on the smell of decayed flesh. She definitely had to get the kids away from this area. Hell, she had to get the kids out of this basement somehow. Maybe tomorrow would be the day all their digging paid off. “Since you won’t come to me, Breandra, I thought I’d come over to your place,” Ramona joked lightly. “Of course, my place across the way is much roomier than this. There’d be plenty of room for you and your sister. Plus, Meg and I, and I’m sure a couple of others, would be glad to help with the care of your little sister.”
“No, they wouldn’t. They don’t think she has the right to live. I hear them gossiping all night about it. About me, too.”
The tips of Ramona's ears burned. Fucking monsters. Stifling the need to retaliate against the jerks across the room, Ramona grit her teeth and focused on Breandra. “It doesn’t matter what they think. It’s that group of old useless crows over there that suck. They have nothing to offer but a bunch of wrinkles and creaking bones!”
“I can't just leave her like this,” Breandra whispered.
Please, I know you can save my children. The last words spoken by Breandra’s mother haunted Ramona. What if she couldn’t? She wasn’t sure if she could save her own ass much less two innocent children.
If only…
She turned pleading eyes in the direction she knew the dead mother lay. Please help me help them. I promise to try my best, my hardest.
“Her name was Stella,” Breandra said, as if she knew Ramona silently conversed with her mother.
“Oh, beautiful name. I bet she was the best mother. And I also bet she’d want you to move away. She would understand it’s not safe this close to a dead body.”
Breandra gasped.
Ramona didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but she needed Breandra to understand that moving was her only option. “Hand me the baby and take my free hand. I will bring you over safely. I promise.” She sent a silent thank you to Stella when she felt the baby girl being placed in her arms, followed by Breandra’s jeans scraping across the concrete floor as she moved closer. “Hold on to me. Okay?” Ramona then guided Breandra back to her and Meg’s corner, and tucked the young girl securely between them.
Several hours passed, and for now, the unnamed baby slept peacefully. With one arm around Breandra, and the other cradling the infant, both youngsters rested against Ramona’s chest. They were orphans, just as she’d been growing up. Only this time, there would be no Mama Gladys to save them from their troubled past. The thought of it made Ramona’s eyes water, but she quickly blinked her tears away. If…no, when they got out of the deathtrap basement, she would make sure they were taken care of and loved one way or another. Even if she had to adopt them. She would be their Gladys. After everything they’d suffered, they deserved more than becoming lost wards of the state, especially one in dishevel. She smiled to herself. Meg was going to flip when Ramona told her about it once they were all safe.
Once again, the sound of crumbling brick alerted Ramona. Alarming amounts of rubble shifted and fell from the ceiling. She feared a landslide of bricks would bury them alive. Again. They couldn’t survive another cave in. Even if it didn’t crush them, they’d never have the supplies to start over.
The shifting rock grew louder as a river of bricks threatened to break loose. Just as Ramona was about to alert the group to prepare for the worst, a deep male voice called through a baseball sized hole in the confining stone. “Is someone there?”
Ramona scrambled to her feet at the sound of the accented voice. She cradled the baby as she squinted to see through the darkness.
“Can anyone hear me?
She imagined fireman and flashing lights surrounding the outside. Rescue had finally come! “Everyone, wake up,” she shouted. “We’ve been found!”
The survivors boomed with excitement and began to call out.
“We're here!”
“Help us!”
“Save us! We're trapped!”
Blinding light overtook the darkness as the basement door jerked open. Silence. Not one person moved. Ramona's legs buckled. Salvation quickly turned into fear. Was anything left? Was everyone they knew gone?
A single man entered, his gaze falling upon Ramona and the kids. “Women and children first.”
Ramona nodded, squeezing Breandra’s hand tightly. Megan kissed Ramona on the cheek, giving her a little shove toward the opening. “Hurry up and get out there so we can go next!”
Before Ramona could take a step, Mrs. Steele shoved her way through the crowd. “Move, you filthy orphans,” she spat, almost knocking Breandra down.
“Halt!” the man bellowed.
Mrs. Steele stopped. Cocking her graying head, she snubbed the lone rescuer. “You did say women first.”
The man’s firm tone and even firmer countenance dared her to deny him. “Aye, I did. However, I meant the woman with the filthy orphans.”
Harrumphing noisily, Mrs. Steele stepped aside as Ramona took her cue and ran through the door, Breandra following behind.
The man emerged from their shelter of ruins behind her. Ramona blinked several times against the sunlight. Once her sight adjusted, she turned around to find him gawping at her. Intense blue eyes locked onto her. His unnerving stare caused her to inhale deeply. The change in air quality made her dizzy, and she fought for balance.
He moved to her side, his hold quick to steady her and the baby in her arms. He thumbed a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She shivered when his skin brushed against her cheek.
“Red as fire,” he murmured before releasing her to stand on her own.
Self-consciousness and embarrassment reddened her cheeks when he wrinkled his nose, no doubt getting a whiff of her three-day musk. She shook it off. It’s not like she had the option to shower during a freaking asteroid impact. She wiped the sweat from her brow as she looked around. Where were the search and rescue vehicles? Firemen, police, EMT’s? Ramona did a full circle, scanning the surreal environment. A rabbit frolicked in out and out of the green shrubbery straight ahead. Up in the bluest of blue skies, birds chirped and flew overhead in large groups. Gone were the buildings and skyscrapers of New York. The clean air held a slight chill. A stream gurgled peacefully several yards away. “Hold the baby,” she told the open mouthed Breandra.
“Is there anyone injured in your party?” the man asked.
“One casualty,” Ramona said as she turned curious eyes toward him.
He was clean. His odd clothing appeared well sewn, as if the maker had an eternity to perfect the stitches. A sculpted breastplate over a sleeveless black tunic with matching leather pants clung to his sinewy frame. Shoulder length hair teased his angular face in the gentle breeze, while sapphire eyes inspected her in return. He continued to approach her, causing her heart to beat faster with each step. There was something magnetic about this man; his presence stirred an uncanny sense of arousal. She licked her severely chapped lips, taking a step back. She shoved the thought aside, dismissing it as trauma. He continued to stare, but said nothing. “Thanks for the rescue,” Ramona blurted to break the silence.
It hit her then. We’re free!
By now, the other survivors arrived in the open. No one moved a muscle when Mrs. Steele hit the ground with a loud thud, her unconscious body sprawled out.
Megan emerged last and ran to Ramona’s side. “We’re going to be all right!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Ramona first, and then the man who had dug them out. She clung to him like a cat clinging to a tree branch above a barking dog.
“All right, Meg, let the man go already. You’re getting your stink all over him!” Ramona shouted, swearing Meg had already hugged him enough for the whole group.
She laughed nervously when everyone turned to look at her.
Megan smirked and skipped back to stand beside her best friend. “He’s all yours,” she leaned in and whispered into Ramona’s ear.
“Shut up! I’ve known him for a whole two minutes longer than you,” Ramona whispered back. She returned her attention to the man.
Why is he grinning like that?
The breeze picked up, and the smell of rain filled the cooling air. She inhaled the scent giddily, vowing she’d never again take for granted the simple pleasures. But before those pleasures could be embraced, there was much to sort out. They needed shelter, a bath, food, and more than likely a shit ton of therapy to deal with their new lives. She cleared her throat and extended a hand for a shake.
Nothing.
So formalities went out the door quickly.
Okay, next attempt. “We thank you for digging us out, sir. My name is Ramona Douglas, and we are extremely grateful to you for saving us.” She paused and looked around purposefully. “Can you please tell me how this is possible?”
“What do you mean, woman?”
She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me? Woman?”
“Lord Jalomar!” a previously unseen man shouted from the side.
Ramona jerked her head to the left. Four other men accompanied their rescuer. Three robust copperheads loaded with freckles, and a…Mortal Kombat assassin?
The leather clad hitman approached, his hands resting on the shiny daggers sheathed at either of his sides. He looked Ramona up and down. “Do you think they're spies, milord? That one's hair is—”
“Do not speak of it now, Kald,” Jalomar spoke sternly.
“Spies?” Meg scoffed. “Are you crazy? Did you inhale too much of the crap and smoke from impact?”
“Shut up, Megan.” Ramona elbowed Meg’s arm.
Maiden of Fire Page 3
