The Aztec Saga - Hunted

by J.S. Davidson

Chapter Twelve

  We left the motel at first light and quickly diverted from the main highway to the back roads. Although the back roads were made of dirt, the rain had dampened any dust that would have given away our location. Each evening, we camped in thick bushland or behind large rocks; anything we could tuck the car behind so it couldn’t be seen from the road. And each night we took it in shifts to sleep while the other kept watch. Only, when it was my turn to sleep, I didn’t sleep; my mind was plagued with nothing but The Aztec. Each night the same dream played in my mind.

  In my dream, I would wake to be standing barefoot on thick, dark green grass, in front of a hut surrounded by tall trees that filled the atmosphere with their mesmerising scent. The ground felt soft and comforting beneath my feet. I could feel the forest flow through my veins with every breath I took.

  In the distance, I could hear the sound of gently running streams and the occasional snap of a stick from the many forest animals that moved freely amongst the trees. As I stared through the lightly misted trees, a figure started to emerge from the dense forest, his shape becoming more defined with each step he took; it was him. He was wearing only his dark cargo pants, his taut, masculine body beautifully defined by the sun as it fanned across his dark skin. I held my arms out for him to come to me, as though I had known him for eternity and I was welcoming him home after a long absence. I was wearing a long and flowing, white silk gown that hung gently from my body. My dark red hair flowed across the dress as blood would through milk.

  He ran towards me, but instead of throwing himself into me, he seized my hand and pulled me deeper into the dense forest. He let go of my hand and gently pushed me on without saying a word. I knew he wanted me to continue running deeper in the mystical forest. As I ran deeper into the forest, I became aware that we were fleeing someone or something. I repeatedly turned to face him, to ask him what it was that we were trying to escape. Every time he grew closer to me, he would point away from me and yell for me to run faster, only no sound came from his mouth. Each time, I did his bidding, and I turned back to run faster and further into the never-ending trees. The last time I turned to ask him who it was we were running from, a tree root wrapped around my foot, and I fell slowly to my back. I lay there for a moment, staring up through the tree canopy, watching the sun as it gently danced between the tree tops, its rays licking my skin.

  Instantly the sun disappeared, as it was blocked by him, his beautiful face staring down at me, his naked body as perfect as I remembered it. I desperately wanted to touch his engraved tatoos. I wanted to touch his skin; I wanted to feel him under my skin, around and in my body. I wanted to immerse myself into him. I slowly reached my hand out to touch his chest, but just before my hand rested on him, he leant in and pressed his firm lips against mine; I melted into his embracing arms. His legs slipped themselves between mine, as he slid my dress up to my hips with his hand, lifting me onto his hips as he kissed my neck. I tilted my head back as his lips sent shivers through my body. I wrapped myself around him as he lifted me from the ground. The instant he stood to his feet, he pulled his hands from under me, and I fell through the Earth, down a seemingly infinite black tunnel. I reached my arms out for him to save me, but he just stood at the top of the tunnel and stared through empty eyes.

  I would wake up at that exact point in the dream. For the first seconds after waking, I would forget he was hunting me, I would forget what he had done to me, and I would wish that he was here with me. For a few seconds, I remembered his warm, gentle touch against my skin when we slept on the couch, and I could almost feel his lips press against mine when he kissed me in the staff room. But then my mind would draw up the memory of him forcing himself on me and my stomach would knot up. I was being consumed by him, and I wanted to know why. I needed to know so much more about all the things Andy and I had discovered. I needed to know how The Aztec and my yearning for him related to Veronika and Boris, the bow and The Book of Narveere. So many questions ...

  I was impatient to meet with Andy’s contact. She might be my only hope of finding the answers I needed.