Indiana Jones and the Dance of the Giants

by Rob MacGregor

  Deirdre managed to smile. "I must have been dreaming." Adrian, she thought. Something about Adrian. "How long have I been here?"

  "Almost two days now. Don't you remember? You've been awake a couple of times."

  She vaguely recalled talking to someone: the doctor, or was it Adrian? She was all confused.

  "We were worried about you. Everyone was so relieved when the doctor said you were going to be all right. Let me fetch him. He wanted to see you as soon as you woke up again."

  "Wait," Deirdre said as Marlis started to close the door. "Joanna, my mother—"

  "We sent a telegram to London. She should be here anytime now."

  Deirdre thanked her, then settled back as the door closed. She dozed again, and was awakened when the doctor arrived. He was a quiet, middle-aged man who'd lived in the village since Deirdre was a child. He listened to her heart, and examined her eyes and throat. He took a few notes in a small black notebook, which he produced from his bag, and prescribed more rest. "The burning in your lungs will gradually disappear as the poison works its way out of your system."

  "How long will it take?"

  The doctor tapped his notebook with his pen. "Oh, a couple of days to a week. Depends. You've been very lucky, Deirdre. The amount of gas you swallowed wasn't strong enough to cause any serious problems. If you'd been any closer to the source or if you'd stayed longer, it might have been a different story."

  "Why have I been sleeping so much?"

  "You needed the rest. I gave you a sedative when I saw you were out of danger."

  "I think I'm having a problem with my memory. I can't remember much of anything that's happened."

  "That's not unexpected. It's a temporary condition. It'll disappear as the drug wears off."

  As he was about to leave, he smiled and told her she had a visitor, that he would only stay a few minutes and she should try not to get excited.

  "Who is it?" she asked suspiciously.

  "Professor Jones."

  "Thanks, Doc. Tell him to give me a couple of minutes." After the doctor left, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached into her suitcase for a brush. She felt as if she'd never used her body before. By the time she heard a tap on the door, she'd combed her hair and brushed her teeth. She was sitting up in bed when Indy knocked.

  "Come in."

  "Am I ever glad to see you with your eyes open," he said as he walked into her room. He looked concerned and happy at the same time.

  "I'm glad to see you, too." His clothes were soiled, his face smudged. It looked as if he hadn't changed since the cave-in. "You went back, didn't you?"

  "I've been helping Richard and Carl clear away the rocks from the entrance." He looked down at his clothes. "When Marlis told me you were awake, I wanted to see you right away. You've been asleep every time I've checked on you."

  The streaks of dirt on his brow and cheek reminded her of a little boy. "You look fine to me, Indy. I'm just happy you're here."

  "You don't know how worried I was." He sat down on the corner of the bed.

  The intensity of his look made her recall their last moments together before the cave-in. It seemed like a dream now that had been interrupted by an alarm clock. She thought that he might be thinking about the same thing. Then she remembered Marlis and the doctor telling her how Indy had saved her. "Thanks for getting me out of there. They told me what you did."

  "You better thank Carl and Richard, too," he said. "If they hadn't shown up, neither of us would've made it."

  "Did they see who did it?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "Hopefully, when we get all the rubble out, something might turn up to prove it was an explosion."

  "Of course it was an explosion. What are you talking about?"

  "There's no evidence yet. It just looks like the cave roof collapsed."

  Deirdre sat forward. "But what about the gas?"

  "No sign of it now."

  "But Indy, I'm sure—"

  He raised a hand to calm her. "Of course there was gas. We both know that."

  She was about to say that she wanted to talk to whoever was investigating the incident, when there was a knock at the door. "Deirdre, someone else to see you."

  Marlis opened the door before Deirdre could say anything. The mayor's wife stepped aside and Joanna swept into the room. She threw her arms around her daughter.

  "I came straight away after I heard." She held Deirdre at arm's length, then sat on the bed. "Marlis said you're going to be okay. What a relief."

  She turned to Indy. "Now what exactly happened? I want to hear it all."

  Indy had stood when Joanna entered the room. He sat down on the chair next to the bed, and explained as best he could, leaving out only the part about what they were doing when the explosion knocked them off their feet.

  "Maybe it was someone trying to frighten us away. I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "Who would be concerned about us digging in that cave?"

  Joanna gazed out the window toward the hills. "There are those who might find what we're doing offensive," she said obscurely. Then, after a pause she added: "The old ways are not completely dead in Scotland."

  "You mean those silly druids?" Deirdre frowned at her mother.

  "Are there druids here?" Indy asked.

  "There have always been rumors about a coven around here," Joanna said matter-of-factly. "I think they just visit here from time to time, though."

  "But if they're so damn concerned about the cave, why would they blow it up?" Indy asked.

  "Maybe they're more concerned about us. Getting us out of here," Joanna said. She rose from the bed. "I should have told you not to say anything about the scroll. I've been trying to keep it as quiet as possible in academic circles until we know more, but I didn't think it would matter around here."

  "But why would anyone think we're a threat?" Deirdre asked. "I don't understand."

  "Fanatics see threats where others don't," Joanna answered.

  "What are we going to do?" Deirdre asked.

  "I think you should go back to London. It'll be safer."

  Typical, Deirdre thought. Joanna was always trying to protect her. "And you? What are you going to do?"

  "Professor Jones and I will restart the dig as soon as the rubble is cleared. We'll hire armed guards to watch the cave. I'll send for a few of my students, and we'll give it our best for a couple of weeks."

  "I'm staying, too, Joanna."

  "Deirdre. Please. You're in no condition to work, and I want you to see a specialist in London."

  "I'll do nothing of the sort. I grew up here. This is my real home. And why would I be any safer in London?"

  Deirdre looked up at Indy for support, but he looked away as if to avoid putting himself between them.

  "Don't bring Professor Jones into this, Deirdre. This is between you and me."

  "If you don't mind, I'll go and wash up," Indy said. He walked to the door, then turned. "I know it's not my business, Joanna, but I think Deirdre would be safer staying with us then going back on her own."

  "See, Joanna."

  Joanna pursed her lips. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she let out her breath. "All right. You can stay, but please don't go wandering off anywhere by yourself. You don't know what we're up against."

  "Do you?"

  "I think I've got an idea."

  A while later when Deirdre was alone again, Marlis brought her a tray and a large bowl of soup. As she ate at the side of the bed, she remembered bits of her dream conversation with Adrian. He'd mentioned a name, Arachne. She puzzled over it. It wasn't druids who'd blown up the cave. It was Adrian. But why hadn't she said something to Joanna?

  She dropped her spoon in her bowl. No, Adrian wasn't here. It was a dream. That was why she hadn't said anything. It hadn't happened. Yet, it seemed so real. It wasn't some dreamy landscape where nothing made sense. It had been right here. Adrian had walked through that door, and stood by the bed and talked to her. Bu
t then she remembered he hadn't left; he'd just disappeared. It had to be a dream.

  She heard a knock, and froze. She stared at the door, wishing that whoever was there would go away. She didn't want to know who it was. Then the door opened a few inches, and Marlis's head appeared.

  "Deirdre, are you awake?"

  She rubbed her temples. "Yes, and I'm done with the soup. Thank you, Marlis."

  "Father Byrne is here. Should I tell him you're too tired to see him now?"

  Deirdre thought a moment. "No, go ahead, show him in." She lay back in the bed, and Marlis helped her with the covers.

  "I'll tell him he shouldn't stay long, that you're tired," she said, and she took away the tray.

  "Good evening," Byrne said as he walked into the room. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

  "No, thank you for coming."

  He sat in the chair next to the bed, and asked about how she was feeling. Deirdre started to say that she was feeling better when she suddenly burst into tears. Like a child in a confessional, she told the priest everything about Adrian, from the time she'd met him and ignored her mother's wishes to how she'd been followed. Finally, she told him about the dream.

  While she talked, Byrne buried his face in his hands and bowed his head. She found it odd talking to him that way, but it probably was what he did when he listened to confessions. When she finished, she smoothed the bedsheets with her hands. "I'm sorry, Father. I just don't know what to do anymore."

  He lifted his face from his hands, and blinked. His eyes were red at the rims, probably an attribute of his age, rather than an emotional reaction to her story, she thought.

  His voice was soothing. "No, it's good that you told me. You needed to get it all out."

  "But what am I going to do?"

  Byrne leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "How do you feel about Professor Jones?"

  "Well, I..."

  "The reason I ask, lass, is because it seems that if you stayed away from him, this Adrian might leave you alone."

  "No, I'm not going to allow him to do that to me. Indy is... I love him, Father."

  Byrne held up a hand. "Okay, lass, that's what I wanted to hear. And how does Professor Jones feel about you?"

  "I think he feels the same way."

  "He would be crazy if he didn't," Byrne said, and he smiled.

  "I think the best thing for you to do is to leave Whithorn with Professor Jones and your mother as soon as possible."

  "But Joanna is so set on the dig. She won't leave."

  "It doesn't mean that you and Professor Jones must stay. I'm sure Joanna is concerned about your safety, and will do what is right."

  "What about Indy? Do you think I should tell him about Adrian?"

  "Well, you don't want to scare off the man you love."

  "I know. But he deserves an explanation."

  "Don't you worry. Things will work out. You'll see. Now just rest. You're safe here."

  She watched the old priest hobble out of the room. She wished she had his faith.

  Arachne

  Indy picked his way through the rubble, turning over stones, scooping shovelfuls of dirt and rock into a wheelbarrow. The roof near the cave mouth had collapsed in the explosion, and rocks and dirt littered the cave, blocking the entrance to the rear chamber. He and Joanna had discussed working in the rear chamber, using the hole in the ceiling as their entrance, but they'd quickly decided against it. The chamber was strewn with rubble and too little fresh air entered from above.

  Joanna had left an hour ago, after they had finally unblocked the entrance. She was anxious to restart the excavation tomorrow, and Deirdre was ready to join them. Richard and Carl were dedicated to Joanna, and were camping at the site, taking turns watching during the night. Right now the two carpenters were busy uncovering and stacking the remains of their lumber and locating buried tools. Indy, for his part, was focused on finding something else which still lay buried. No sign of explosives or the source of the gas had been uncovered.

  He noticed a heap of rubble that he'd overlooked near one side of the cave. He pushed aside dirt and pebbles with his boot, and felt something solid. He dropped to his knees and scraped away more dirt with his gloved hands. Then he threw down a handful of dirt in disgust.

  "Swell. Another rock."

  Indy kicked the ground. It had to be here, something that would provide a clue to what had happened and hopefully something that would help identify the perpetrators. Joanna was still convinced that some pagan protectors of Merlin, druids who wanted to keep archaeologists from digging in the cave, were at fault. But in the back of his mind were memories of the spiders and the scorpions. And then there was the matter of Deirdre's old boyfriend. Maybe he was running amuck again. Indy didn't know what to think.

  "Indy," Carl called out.

  He turned and saw Carl's gloved hands clawing at the ground. He hurried over to where the carpenter was working near the inner edge of the area damaged by the explosion. A dull green cylinder lay partially buried. Indy bent down, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. "This is it. You found it, Carl."

  Indy dropped to his knees and carefully dug around the cylinder. Then both men lifted it, and removed it from the hole. They set it down on a pile of rocks.

  Carl looked up as his brother approached. "You see this, Richard? A chlorine gas canister, or at least it was one."

  Indy bent over and examined it. "How do you know, Carl?"

  "It's like the kind they used in the war."

  "You and Deirdre are lucky to be alive," Richard said. "They must have placed it here, opened it, then detonated the charge to block the entrance. What they didn't realize was that the blast was strong enough to bury the canister, too."

  Carl rapped his knuckles against the canister. "We'll take it to the constable, Professor. I'm sure he'll be interested in seeing it. Maybe we'll get some action now."

  "Where do you think it would come from?"

  Carl looked at his brother, then to Indy. "My guess is the old army supply depot. It's a couple of miles from the village."

  "Who has access to it?"

  "Far as I know just the soldiers stationed there."

  Indy rode back to the village, and when he reached the boarding house he headed for Deirdre's room. He was anxious to tell her about their discovery. But then he decided he would bathe first.

  In his room, he turned on the bath water and stripped off his clothes. As he slid into the tub, he heard noises coming from Deirdre's room. What was she doing, moving furniture? He leaned back in the tub and tapped twice on the wall. He thought it odd that she didn't tap back, but he didn't have much time to think about what, if anything, it meant because the door to his room suddenly flew open and two men burst in.

  They wore black mesh hoods with holes cut for their eyes, noses, and mouths. Indy took one look at them, and leaped up, but the man closest to him lunged, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shoved him down into the tub. Water splashed over the sides. Indy struggled to free himself, but the man was stronger. His thumbs pressed down against Indy's Adam's apple, pushing him deeper and deeper into the water. Indy wedged the heel of his hand under the man's jaw, shoved his head back, and glimpsed a scar on his throat—then the water covered his head. The image of the mesh-covered face hovered above him like a giant octopus whose arms were squeezing the life out of him.

  Air bubbled from his lips. He fought, but to no avail. The man's thumbs kept pressing, pressing. He was beginning to fade. He saw himself as a child seated on his mother's lap, then he was standing next to his father at her funeral, wondering what death was. Now he was sure he would see her again. She was waiting for him.

  He was about to lose consciousness when he heard a pounding. His heart, he thought dimly. His heart was in its death throes. The pressure on his throat lessened some and he took advantage of it. He kicked his feet in the air; they struck the man in the chin, knocking him back. His hands slipped away and Indy exploded out of the water, gasping for b
reath, and fell on his assailant. But he was so weak, he was no match for the thug. The man was forcing him back under water.

  He heard the pounding again. Someone at the door. His shout for help was nothing more than a futile choking sound. Desperate, he kicked again. His feet connected with the man's chest, and he shoved with all his remaining strength. The man fell back. Indy scrambled up, and had one leg over the side of the tub when the man hurled into him, ramming him against the wall.

  Indy reached out, grabbed the still-life painting from the wall, and smashed it over the hooded man's head. Just then, the door swung open and a voice shouted, "Hey, what the hell's going on here?"

  Indy saw it was Jack Shannon, but before he could warn him the other hooded man rushed up behind him, sank his fist into Shannon's gut, then kicked him in the side. "Let's get outta here!" he shouted to his companion, who was still wearing the frame Indy had smashed over his head.

  The man slammed Indy against the wall once more, then let him go. He slid back down into the tub and caught his breath. Gripping the sides of the tub, he hoisted himself up. He crawled out and over to the closet, where Shannon was pushing himself up, groaning softly, a hand pressed to his side. "You okay, Jack?"

  "Ask me next week."

  Indy pulled his robe from a hanger, shrugged it on as he staggered to his feet, and barely made it to the sink before he retched. When he turned, Shannon was talking to Lily, who was peering in through the doorway.

  "I'll get Dr. Campbell," she said and disappeared.

  Shannon turned from the door. "You're keeping bad company, Indy."

  "It looks that way." The room was a mess. Drawers were pulled from the dresser and dumped on the floor. The mattress was halfway off the bed. He suddenly remembered the noise that had come from Deirdre's room. He stumbled out of the room, still feeling queasy.

  Shannon trailed after him. "Where're you going?"

  He opened the door to Deirdre's room, and saw that it had been torn apart with the same savagery that had swept through his own. "What the hell were they looking for?" Shannon asked.

  Indy lifted one end of an upside-down dresser drawer, uncovering a heap of clothing. "Gold, I'd guess."