by Emily Duvall
“We’ll stay here tonight,” Luke said. “We need to rest. We’ll have another couple of hours to walk tomorrow.”
Two simultaneous currents of hunger and exhaustion moved through Melanie. She began to sit down, when Luke barked at her to go find twigs and leaves. The response she gave sounded like the voice of a drone instead of a human.
“Get whatever you can find,” he said with edge. “Just don’t go far.”
She looked around and saw a plethora of scrawny branches and leaves, but when she picked them up, they held moistness not suitable for making fires. There must have been rain not long before they arrived. Wet twigs wouldn’t make a fire go. She dropped the twigs and scouted out an area further away from their camp. She gathered what she could and returned to the camp, already complete with two tents, and a makeshift fire pit in the middle.
“Not bad,” Brent said and took her load. He tossed the twigs in a pile and got down on his knees. The fire starter in his hand lit a flame on the pile of twigs and Brent cupped his hands around the twigs and blew careful breaths until the fire took and spread.
The rest of them gathered around the fire, useless at the end of their long day at making further conversation. Melanie ate some of the canned goods they’d brought along, but nothing tasted good and she wanted sleep more than to eat. She turned to Luke and caught sight of his intense gaze aimed at the fire. There was so much to him, such depth. She felt like reaching out and touching his cheek, but she held back. “Where am I sleeping?”
“With me,” he answered without looking at her.
Melanie hesitated; unsure of whom she trusted less: Luke or herself. She got up, said good-night to Brent and Andry, and walked over to the triangle-shaped tent several feet away from the fire. She ducked into the tent where a single blanket lay on the ground.
“I call dibs on the blanket.” Luke sided up next to her.
His thigh brushed against hers. She stood crouched over with her head grazing the top of the tent. “How am I supposed to stay warm?”
Luke ducked inside and stretched out best he could on the ground. “You’re a smart woman, you’ll figure out something.”
Frustrated, she kneeled down and joined him on the cold, hard ground. The sharp nudge of pebbles on the ground hit her back. She reached up for her bag, punched the canvas material a couple of times to fluff, and she positioned herself with her back to Luke. Back-to-back, they lay there in the dark, pressed against each other like two stone pillars. The chill of the tent settled on her skin, particularly her lips, nose, and cheeks. Shivers ran through her body and her teeth began to chatter. Sounds that had been drowned out by their voices earlier in the day, came to life. The chirping, the ticking, and the strange cries and scratching in the distance made her grow uneasy and further from sleep. This place thrived more at night than during the day. She wiggled her butt up against Luke and stopped suddenly at what sounded like the faintest shuffle close to their tent. She waited with wide eyes, expecting something or someone to unzip their tent and massacre her limbs. The cool air slipped out of her mouth and her heart pounded hard like an entire marching band cutting across her chest. She flipped over and anchored herself to the one person in this remoteness.
Melanie slid her hands and arms under his shirt, like sliding into a glove. The instant heat pumped blood through her fingers and inched up her arms. Her fingers moved over his front side and flattened over the sinew of his muscles covering his torso. She molded herself against his angles. She inhaled the scent of campfire and dried sweat and pressed her lips to his back. Immediately her face thawed. The warmth from his body subsided her quivers and chased the coldness from her face. Luke’s hands buckled over hers and pulled her closer. A deep sigh came out of his mouth. They remained like this for some time. The calmness of his breathing lulled her eyes closed. She’d almost fallen asleep when the blanket graced her body and he turned and swallowed her up in his embrace.
Chapter 13
The smoky smell of burning branches awakened Melanie, followed by the stiffness that had spread throughout her bones and settled during the night. She sat up on her elbows, looking at the light filtering between the tent doors and highlighting the dust particles being carried by the wind. The wind, rough and chilly, seeped in the tent. The blanket fell off her shoulders and onto the ground. Vaguely, she remembered Luke holding her. She could be wrong on that account. She opened one of the tent flaps and glimpsed Luke standing next to Andry. Together they packed up the other tent. Her gaze followed the hazy trail to the campfire, over to Brent holding a pan over the flame.
Luke turned his head to the tent. Melanie released the nylon fabric and ran her hand through her hair. “We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready,” he said with agitation in his voice and anxiousness in his eyes.
Melanie hugged her arms with numb fingers. “Thanks for the blanket,” she said.
Luke nodded to his right. “There’s coffee out by the campfire.”
“Luke, we’ve got to hurry,” Andry called.
The thought of coffee or of any liquid appealed greatly to Melanie. She grabbed her backpack and headed out of the tent. She could weather Luke’s indifferent mood for a little longer.
“Good morning,” Brent said as Luke began to disassemble the tent. He removed the poles and the tent deflated to the ground.
The pot in his hand intrigued Melanie and she looked over his shoulder at the black goop in the pot. The semi-liquid smelled like dung and resembled tar. Her nose scrunched and she covered her mouth. “Don’t tell me…”
“Gourmet wilderness coffee.” Brent reached for a tin can. “Guaranteed to put hair on your chest. Do you want a cup?”
“I’d prefer to keep my chest hairless.” Melanie smiled at Andry.
Brent shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
While the men drank the coffee, Melanie excused herself for some privacy. She wasn’t hungry, just thirsty, and she drank half of her last bottle of water before returning to the camp.
Luke held out a small orange. The fruit might as well have been a beautiful jewel in a land of brown and gray accents. “Take it,” he said.
“Thanks.” The orange felt bumpy in her hand and tasted juicy and sugary on her lips.
The seven-mile hike to the mine began with an arid morning. The temperature increased steadily, along with Melanie’s thirst. Each of the men in her group stalked over the arid ground with long strides and a gaze pointed at something unreachable in the distance. Unlike the lighthearted mood yesterday, where Andry talked about his children and told Melanie about his family, today he said little. Brent too seemed to knock away any attempt at picking a fight with her, and Luke, when he did speak, reminded Melanie of a set of clippers trimming down any branch in his sight. Today was all business and she understood.
The shrubs grew sparse and gave away to jagged hills and steep plateaus which they climbed. The heat attacked Melanie’s body and she sweat in places she couldn’t discuss in this group of men. The sun beat down on them like a punch to the face. She tried not to be overjoyed to the point of tears each time they stopped for a break. Luke increased his pace at the same time Melanie struggled to keep up with the group. She stopped to catch her breath on a steep climb and placed her hands on her knees to get some air.
“When we get to the mine,” Andry said, slowing down to talk to Melanie. “Say as little as possible. Luke and Brent will talk.”
Melanie caught Luke glancing back her for the first time in hours. “I understand,” she answered.
“Get out of the way!” Luke yelled out of nowhere.
Andry and Melanie dove to opposite sides of the path. The sound of rocks crushing the ground rolled past her. A large boulder toppled by her, missing her by a few inches. Melanie’s face dropped to her hands. Her heart pounded.
“I told you to keep your eyes open.” Luke crouched down beside her. “That rock could have hurt you.” Luke yanked her up by the wrist. He unzipped his backpack and hand
ed her a bottle of water. “You’re dehydrated.”
Melanie gulped down what she could and handed the bottle back to Luke.
“The mine is on the other side of this ridge.” Brent unscrewed the lid on his canteen. “We’re close.”
“Not close enough.” Luke drank a sip of water and put the bottle back in his back pack.
The loose boulder woke up Melanie out of her misery. She made it a point to keep up the rest of the grueling hike. The top of the mountain provided a view of the valley full of more or less nothing than barren land all leading to another set of mountains. They hiked down, turned, turned again, and cut across a dry riverbed. The trees provided bouts of shade followed by long period of sun exposure. The question “How much longer?” scratched the tip of Melanie’s tongue by the minute.
The riverbed came to life around the next corner. A pool of muddy brown water formed and they followed the path which would be upstream if there were more water. The water increased in width and height and depth with each step as they crossed to the other side of the bank. Cool water rushed up and over Melanie’s knees until the toll of walking and slipping on the rocks became too much, and she, along with the others, plunged in the water and swam to the other side. Occasionally, they saw another person. Nobody acknowledged them or said hello. The distrust in their gazes sent creepy-crawlies up Melanie’s back.
“This is a good sign,” Brent told Melanie. “People come from miles around to follow-up on leads or work for the mine owners. They’re mining.”
Andry called out to one of the men in the river in his native tongue. “The mine is a quarter of mile. We’re close and we’re headed in the right direction.”
“What will you do with the garnet?” Melanie asked.
“Don’t mention gemstones,” Luke said tersely. “Whatever you do, don’t talk about why we’re here. Say nothing. Do nothing except on my cue. Walk and don’t react to anything you see. Be invisible.”
She headed the warning in his voice. Melanie clamped up and kept walking. Each step she felt the tension in her muscles and her jaw refused to relax. The mood between Andry, Brent, and Luke surpassed serious. She saw the unease in their eyes and the careful way they watched their surroundings.
The closer they got to the base of the mountain, the more congested the river became. Miners, shirtless and wet up to their ribs, filled up the landscape. They held baskets of some sort and sifted them back and forth underneath the muddy, clay-colored earth. They were mining for a stone, garnets, Melanie assumed, but didn’t dare ask. She was too afraid to speak; too fearful that a sneeze would bring too much attention to their group. A group of young boys looked up at them and their gazes shifted to Melanie. Their dark, shiny eyes kept on her and she felt clammy in her cheeks and wobbly on her knees. She didn’t belong here and they knew it.
Luke led them around a steep corner and away from the river. Melanie wiped the dirty sweat off her eyes. They stung and she tried not to rub them. Her eyes began watering and stinging worse than ever. She blinked profusely and more water leaked from her eyes. She wasn’t paying attention to the sight in front of her and stopped abruptly, hitting Brent square in the back with her face.
He turned around and glowered. Silently, he pointed ahead. Melanie followed his finger to the narrow opening in the mountain. A thatched roof hung over the entrance to the tunnel. Large boulders sat on either side and a pile of rocks formed a mini version of the mountain in front of them. There was dirt everywhere. A random tree provided little shade off to the right. It looked like the sort of place someone went into and didn’t come out from.
“We’re here,” Brent said.
The mouth of the tunnel didn’t look big enough for a dog to fit through let alone an actual person. Four men armed with big guns and instant suspicion stepped up to the side of the mine like living, protective doors. Melanie couldn’t take her stare away from the weapons. They were bigger than her legs and full of ammunition capable of taking out every single one of them. She gulped back over the rock in her throat. A dizzy spell overcame her. The worry about what would come next ran deep inside and choked her sense of safety.
Andry approached the men with his hands in surrender position. He spoke fast and loud at the four men. They glanced at the group in front of them, rugged, tired, and very white. Very American. The guards responded in rapid fire. One of them pointed his thick finger at Luke. The other guard watched the rest of them. The third guard, and the largest of them all, went into the entrance of the mine.
Andry muttered to Luke, “He’ll be back in a moment.”
Melanie’s throat dried out of anything worth saying and best she could, she took Andry’s advice to blend in and not say anything. This wasn’t the time or the place to challenge Andry on how far women had come in the world. Equality hadn’t caught up in these parts and today wouldn’t be that day. A small man with skin the color of the riverbed appeared at the entrance to the hut. The man spoke a flutter of words Melanie couldn’t interpret.
“This is Bruno,” Andry translated, “he owns this mine.”
“Does he have any large blue garnets?” Luke said, taking the lead.
“Bruno says they are mining rubies, not garnets.”
Luke ignored the comment. “Tell him we have cash. We’re willing to pay for the right price. We want a big garnet. The biggest he has.”
Melanie watched Andry repeat Luke’s impatient words to Bruno. Bruno scratched his chin and spoke again. He pointed at Luke.
Andry nodded. “Come.” A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. “The others stay outside.”
Luke looked sharply at Andry. “You come along.” He started to walk forward to the lightless entrance of the mine and he looked back briefly at Melanie. An edgy glare in his eyes. Bruno got in her view of Luke and they each disappeared inside. The other guards stepped together and formed a human gate at the entrance, blocking all of Melanie’s view.
Unease crippled Melanie. The pit in her stomach constricted. She walked over to the group of boulders to the right of the mine and took a seat. It didn’t break her heart to not go into the thick of the mine. She valued her life. “What’s going on?” she asked Brent.
Brent paced in front of her. He cast the guards a furious glance. “They are playing a game. The mine owner, if he has such a garnet as the one we came to find, will save it for last. He won’t want to sell the stone to our group, we could be the first interested buyers or the last. We’ll never know. Luke is negotiating. The owner may have what Luke wants. Could be a handful of blue garnets or the big one. Eleven carats,” he said wistfully. “There’s none ever been found at that weight.”
“Yes, but how do you know if a gemstone is real? What if Luke’s in there picking out a generic one?”
“Luke and I can generally tell what we’re getting. We deal with gemstones in their natural form all the time. In fact, we spend less time with the final, shiny product you see in jewelry store windows. Has my brother never taught you about inclusions?”
“Not really. I know they are flaws.”
“I can’t get into it now. My brother did you a disservice if all you’ve retained is the word flaw.”
Melanie didn’t want to revisit the past. Certainly not with Brent. “What will happen next?”
“Luke will bring the garnet outside to get a better look. The small magnifying glass you’ve seen us carry around is called a loupe.” Brent put his hands on his hips. He looked at the guards and back to Melanie. “I bet you feel really uncomfortable right about now.”
Melanie scoffed at him. “If this miner has gems to sell, why didn’t Bruno look happy at our arrival?”
“He’s got something special and he knows this. Blue garnets fetch a lot of money and interest. Especially the bigger ones. They are few and far between. Old Bruno’s trying to hold out for one of the bigger gemstone hunters. There could be five other groups just like ours. Word travels fast in this business. We aren’t the only ones chasing afte
r a tip. We haven’t done business with these guys before. They don’t know us and we don’t know them. There’s a catch to us being here. Bruno owns the mine. Legally, he has claim to everything inside that mine.” Brent lowered his voice. “We can be considered trespassers; trespassers get shot. He can kick us off for any reason and make sure we don’t return. Everything’s sketchy at this point.”
Melanie looked down and saw that Brent’s hand shook a little. She thought she would double over from the rock in her stomach. She thought she might be sick.
Luke appeared at the mine entrance and the guards parted. They got out of his way, though stayed close to his every move. He looked immediately at Melanie, then at Brent. One quick jut of his chin and he’d communicated some message to Brent. One of the guards shifted his heavyset legs and he shifted the gun over his other shoulder. They spoke amongst themselves and glanced over at Melanie. She pressed the palm of her hand onto the rock beneath her. She worried about Luke and Brent. The shortest of the guards began speaking lower and more rapidly. He looked at Melanie again. She grew restless and fearful about the entire situation.
Brent walked over and they exchanged hushed conversation. She saw what looked like a rock pass from Luke to Brent. Luke produced a small, hand-held tool, different from the loupe. He handed the lens to Brent; Brent raised the lens to the rock and kept turning the rock around and examining it from several angles. He returned the rock and the tool to Luke and he did the same. They talked again with the words, “color,” and “carat,” and “you’re call,” being spoken louder.
“How much?” Brent said.
Luke uttered a number and Brent nodded. The guards stepped to the side as Luke returned to the opening of the mine with his hand firm against the strap on his backpack.
