Right now, a slug could be heading straight for his head. Worried about that, he ducked and swerved to the left even though there was nothing in his path to avoid. In doing so, he nearly ran into a slug that otherwise would have missed him by a wide mark.
Despite all his tacking back and forth, Carl soon caught up to Beth, who seemed to be running slower than before. Too winded to speak, she just glanced at him and kept moving.
Carl’s difficulty in hearing the silenced weapons behind him was exacerbated by the sudden sound of running water. The trees thinned, and he and Beth burst from the woods onto the edge of the ravine leading to the river.
Carl played the beam of his light down the sloping side of the ravine, which was rugged and sharp with a sparse population of skinny pine trees growing out of small pockets of soil between many rocky outcroppings.
Aware that they were much easier targets now standing on the edge of the ravine, Carl whispered to Beth, “Turn off your flashlight.” He did the same and looked down the slope.
The clouds had parted, and in places, bare sky could be seen. There was no moon, but they did have enough starlight to make him believe he could navigate the slope. He nudged Beth forward. “Come on. No lights.”
Taking the lead, Carl turned sideways, stepped off the ridge, and felt for a foothold. Finding solid ground, he brought his other foot down and felt again with his lead foot. As soon as he’d moved down so there was room for her, Beth stepped onto the slope.
Their progress was tortuously slow as they descended, and both knew at any moment, their pursuers would be on them. They couldn’t stay out in the open like this.
A little below them and a few feet upriver, Carl saw the dim shape of a large jagged shelf of what looked like an overhanging rock. Needing to get there fast and believing they were now below the sight line from the woods, he flicked on his flashlight, located his next couple of steps, then turned the beam off.
IN THE WOODS, puzzled at the loss of the lights they’d been following, Lothian and Mead could hear the river. By now it was apparent to Lothian that Beth Corbin likely could not be taken alive. But that didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t use her body. After all, it would still be warm and wouldn’t be much different than doing a drugged woman. But those details could all be worked out later. Right now they had to catch her.
Pressing forward, they cleared the woods and played the beams of their lights upriver and down along the lip of the ravine.
Nothing.
Aware of only one place their quarry could have gone, Lothian ran forward and directed his light down the slope to the river, where, even after a big sweep left and right he saw no one.
So they had to be behind that big rocky shelf ten feet down. With his beam on the shelf, he slapped Mead’s arm to get his attention, then jabbed his finger in the direction of the shelf.
Mead nodded and moved upriver. When he was on the other side of the shelf, both men started down the slope.
CROUCHING UNDER the shelf, Carl and Beth heard the crunch and slide of feet upriver and down, growing steadily closer. On the side where they’d entered the overhang, there was a rocky partition that would keep them from being seen by anyone drawing even with them on the downriver side. But upriver, there was no such protection, so it was only a matter of seconds before they would be utterly exposed to whoever was coming that way.
Carl looked at the river and thought about making a run for it. But that would only get them killed a bit sooner. So he had to face the truth. They were trapped.
Chapter 17
FREDRIC MEAD got into position first and played the beam of his flashlight under the rocky shelf where the two targets were surely hiding. Both he and Lothian had heard a man curse when he abruptly stopped firing at them back in the woods. Though they’d both been listening hard, they subsequently hadn’t heard either a fresh magazine being snapped into place or the sound of him chambering the first round from one. They were, therefore, fairly certain his gun was empty, especially since they’d come under no fire since that moment.
So Mead expected to see two people cowering in fear. What he actually saw were the feet and rear end of only one person as that individual disappeared into what appeared to be solid stone.
UNDER THE ROCK shelf, Carl got to his feet in the cave Beth had discovered in the wall behind them. Together, they played their light over their new surroundings.
It was not a typical cave of the sort you see in limestone formations, but was simply a fracture in the earth’s crust shaped like an out-of-square box about five feet wide and a little over six tall. But it was deep, angling so steeply into the earth their lights could not plumb the bottom.
“Think they’ll find us?” Beth whispered.
“I’m pretty sure they figured out where we were before you found this,” Carl whispered back. “Shouldn’t be too hard for them to do the same.”
“But the entry is so small, you could keep them from coming in with the gun. One shot would surely make them realize they should stay away.”
Carl shook his head. “I’m empty.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’ve still got the crowbar. Look around for a loose part of the wall we could pry free and use to block the opening.”
Once again they sent their beams around the walls, but the enclosing rock looked monolithic and immovable.
“All right. That’s not going to work,” Carl said.
“We could stand beside the opening with the crowbar and smash it into the head of whoever comes in first,” Beth said. “Then we could drag him inside and take his gun.”
Even though they were in a desperate position, her aggressive suggestion surprised Carl. “You know, we’re assuming this cave doesn’t have another exit.”
“Let’s check.”
“You go. I’ll stay here and guard the door.”
While Beth went down the dark tunnel, Carl got out the crowbar and took up a position to the left of the opening. He’d barely flicked off his flashlight and shoved it in his back pocket, when a beam of light from the opening cut the darkness.
As the light moved in a tight traverse over the inside of the cave, Carl wished he could change channels and go to a baseball game or even a commercial. He knew he’d get only one chance to do this right, and he’d have to do it without being able to see very well. Then, to his surprise, whoever was in the opening, let off a barrage of gunfire that was a lot louder than the whisper most people think a silenced weapon makes.
Carl’s first concern was for Beth, who though out of sight, could be directly in the line of fire. Then, as slugs began ricocheting off the walls, his concern shifted to his own welfare. And rightly so, because one of the marauding rounds stung the top of his left ear before hitting the wall behind him and zinging off in another direction. He felt warm blood run behind his ear and down into the neck of his shirt. Another round caressed his scalp, parting his hair.
There was no way he was going to survive this.
Suddenly, the gunfire stopped and the beam of light in the opening disappeared. Amid the momentary relief that his ear had been the only part of him struck, he glanced down the tunnel . . . no light in that direction either.
Where was Beth? Had she been hit?
In total darkness now, he listened hard to determine what was going to happen next. If anyone were coming in, they’d have to get down low and do it as he and Beth had, on hands and knees. If nothing else, the toes of their shoes would scrape the ground. But he heard nothing.
OUTSIDE, STANDING by the cave opening, Lothian assessed the situation. There had been no return gunfire during his probe of the cave, further evidence the gun firing on them back in the woods was now empty. Still, it would be a risky thing to go in there on hands and knees. Someone might be standing beside the opening with a large rock they
could use to crush his head.
CARL’S HEART, ALREADY thudding against his shirt buttons, began hitting them harder. There was no light entering from outside, but someone was definitely coming in.
He poised, ready to strike, aware of just how puny the little crowbar was. He’d have to score a direct hit and do it in total darkness. It was impossible. Damn it, he needed his flashlight, but it was in his right rear pocket. To get it, he’d have to switch the crowbar to his left hand, get out the light, then swap the contents of both hands so he could use the crowbar with the greatest force. And it was too late now for all that.
He sensed a presence emerging into the cave. His nervous system went off like a sprung rattrap. He brought the crowbar down hard, leaning into the blow. Prepared for the impact of steel against bone, he felt something far different—soft and yielding. He tried to pull the crowbar back, but it was tangled in what he’d hit. The crowbar was yanked from his hand.
OUTSIDE, LOTHIAN pulled Mead’s jacket out of the cave entrance. Shivering in the night air, Mead played the beam of his flashlight onto the jacket and the two men saw the crowbar, whose hook had caught in the pocket. They looked at each and grinned smugly at their freak luck. Now they knew for sure. If those inside were trying to protect themselves with this, they had nothing else.
CARL STOOD AT the cave entrance conflicted over what to do now. He still had the gun. He could use the butt of that as he had the crowbar. But he saw now that a single mistake would lead to his instant death.
He glanced down the tunnel. Where was Beth? Maybe she’d found a way out. Believing that prospect held the greatest promise, he grabbed his flashlight from his back pocket, flicked it on, and ran deeper into the cave, instantly wondering why, if there was another way out, she hadn’t come back for him. Thoughts racing, he realized she shouldn’t have come back. With all those slugs flying around it would have been too dangerous.
Oh no.
An ugly possibility soiled the moment. And then it came true as he spotted her body, dark flashlight in hand, lying on the cave floor, apparently stricken by a ricochet as he’d feared.
Her name tore from his throat. “Beth.” He ran to her side and put his hand on her hair.
Amazingly, she looked up at him.
“You okay?” he asked, afraid of the answer.
“I’m fine. I heard the sound of gunfire and I got down to be a smaller target. What’s going on?”
With no time to dwell on the good news, Carl relayed the bad. “They’ll be coming in any second. What’s back here?”
He shined his light deeper into the tunnel and saw it reflect off black water. He turned to Beth, who was now on her feet.
“I can’t tell where it goes,” she said. “Something’s obstructing the view.”
Back up the tunnel they heard scraping sounds as Lothian and Mead crawled through the opening.
“We don’t have any choice,” Carl said. “Come on.” He led the way to the black water and into it, which rose quickly up to his calves as he pushed forward, Beth close behind. Up ahead, the ceiling bulged downward, coming to within a foot of the water and making it impossible to see what lay beyond. “We’ll have to get a lot wetter,” he warned. “Shuck the backpack.”
“No,” she said firmly. “We’ve gone through too much to get these urns and I’m not leaving without them.”
From the rate at which the water rose as they advanced, the slope of the tunnel was apparently the same in the wet part as the dry. The water was now up to Carl’s knees and he could feel a distinct current pushing him forward.
They forged on, and the water rose quickly to Carl’s hips. With more of his body to push against, the current now seemed much stronger.
By the time he reached the lowest point of the bulge in the ceiling, the water was just below Carl’s sternum. Holding his flashlight beside his right ear, he dipped his knees so his head would clear the rock above. This brought the water up to his shoulders and made him unsteady on his feet to where resisting the undertow was extremely difficult.
Over the next few feet, the rock formation pushing down from above stayed at the same height, so as Carl moved steadily forward along the downward sloping floor, he could stand more erect yet keep the water at shoulder level. This steadied his footing.
Just as Beth reached the part of the ceiling that required her to immerse herself to her shoulders, Mead and Lothian came running down the tunnel, firing their automatics well before they reached the water.
“Turn off your light,” Carl warned, following his own advice.
Behind him, as Beth flicked off her light, she was having trouble keeping her head clear of the ceiling because the buoyant backpack was trying to float.
Both of them could still see a little by the lights from the two assassins. With slugs zipping into the water around them and ricocheting off the ceiling projection, they realized that by having only their heads exposed like this, any round hitting them now would be lethal.
But with every inch Carl and Beth gained, Lothian and Mead’s line of fire grew poorer, blocked by the rocky projection on the ceiling.
Abruptly, the depressed part of the ceiling ended, and Carl found he could stand straight. Feeling it was now safe to use his own flashlight, he did so. With the water still at his shoulders and the current pushing hard against his legs, he discovered there was now at least two feet of headroom. Beth quickly joined him, the buoyant backpack, making it even harder for her to resist the current.
In this position it was impossible for even a lucky slug to reach them. But it would be a simple matter for the two men behind to follow. And that wasn’t the only problem. Ahead, the ceiling dropped even lower than the part they’d just experienced, reaching down to a bare few inches from the water. To move forward, they’d have to completely submerge themselves.
“Maybe it’s just a small bump,” Beth whispered. “And beyond it there’s more headroom.”
Behind them, they heard splashing as their pursuers waded into the water.
Praying that Beth was right, Carl moved forward to look through the two-inch air space between the ceiling and the water to determine what lay on the other side . . . if there was another side.
The air space was so narrow he needed to be very close to have any chance of seeing through it. But with every small step forward, the water came up a little higher, so when he was about a foot away, it was just under his Adam’s apple.
Then disaster . . .
His lead foot hit a slippery spot and he lost contact with the floor. As the current pushed his legs out from under him, he let out an involuntary yelp and flailed at the water with his arms, trying to keep from being pushed under the low-hanging ceiling.
Seeing what was about to happen, Beth bobbed forward and grabbed at his jacket, but this caused her to completely lose her balance. Now the buoyant backpack tipped her forward pushing her face into the water. Carl’s soaked jacket pulled him under, and Beth lost her grip on him.
In seconds, the treacherous current carried them both under the low ceiling.
Chapter 18
CARL MANAGED not to inhale as he went under, but his yelp exhausted what air he had in his lungs, so he was caught with no reserve. During the chase from the fence he’d felt a couple of moments of real concern about the situation but not once did he feel panic . . . until now.
Surprised by what had happened to him, he dropped his flashlight, which, still lit, fell to the bottom, then rolled downhill to eventually disappear through a manhole-sized gap in the rock wall that marked the end of the tunnel. And the water was now trying to carry him to that same hole.
To save himself, he needed to swim strongly upstream, but he’d become so disoriented he couldn’t tell which way that was or even which direction led to the surface.
As for Beth, she had gone facedown s
o quickly she hadn’t had a chance to catch a breath either. She tried to lift her head clear of the water, but something was in the way. Her need for oxygen growing to desperation, she tried to roll over on her back, hoping to find the two inches of air they’d seen before this disaster had engulfed them. But she could make no progress.
Through the pain radiating in her lungs and behind her eyes, she realized the backpack was scraping the ceiling . . . that’s why she couldn’t roll over. What she didn’t know was that even if she could have made it onto her back, the air space was gone. She’d been swept to a point where the ceiling was now an inch below the water line. That’s what was holding her head down.
As her life began to ebb away, the realization she was going to die right here became correspondingly brighter. But in a way, what did it matter? Now . . . two weeks from now . . . Just inhale and it would all be over.
CARL’S FINGERS scraped the rock bottom of the tunnel about the same time his head hit the side wall. Pain radiating from the crown of his scalp, his lungs now shrieking for air, Carl got his legs under him and pushed for the surface, praying that by some miracle, he was in a part of the tunnel where there was enough head room to find some air.
But his prayers were not answered, for as the top of his head cleared the water, it quickly hit the low ceiling, knocking him unconscious.
WITH LOTHIAN leading the way, the two assassins lowered themselves into the water so they could clear the first bulge in the ceiling. Because of Mead’s long legs he found this maneuver more difficult than his partner did. A few seconds earlier, they’d heard a short bark of surprise or fear, it wasn’t clear which, from one of the two they were chasing. Now, ahead of them, where it was impossible to see what was happening, they heard wild splashing sounds.
As he moved forward with his flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other, Lothian wished he had at least one hand free to help keep his balance. Behind him, Mead was thinking this would be a perfect time to kill Lothian. Shoot him in the head down here. Who would know? He could blame it on those they were chasing. But he’d have to come up with a story to explain how he’d been shot from behind. And if the director ever found out what he’d done . . .
The Blood Betrayal Page 10
