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She hugged her arms around her body. "I know. But I'd rather take my chances on the unknown than with him."
"Okay. But we travel light. Only canteens and rations."
She nodded. "Let's get Jason."
Jason panicked when he was shaken awake. He couldn't breathe! He struggled violently for several heartbeats until he realized his respiratory distress was due to Linda's hand clamped over his mouth.
She hushed him, her lips at his ear. "Quiet, Jason."
He stopped struggling, but his heart still pounded, his head ached. What now? More monsters? He scooted up into a seated position and saw Blakely collecting the boxes of dry rations, creeping like a thief in the night, careful where he placed his feet.
Khalid slumped in his sleeping bag. Both Blakely and Linda kept glancing toward the snoring man. Jason turned to Linda with a question on his lips. She held a finger across her own. He didn't know why he had to be so darned quiet. The crashing waters were noisy enough. Still, he did as he was told and sat silently.
Within less than a minute, Linda and Blakely had piled three canteens, flashlights, and a bag of rations near him. Blakely showed Linda a wide-muzzled pistol he had found in the supplies from the boat. A flare gun, Jason noted.
Blakely crouched by him and whispered, "Listen, boy, we need to sneak away. Leave Khalid behind. We have to move fast. Do you think you can do that?"
He nodded, confused, but from Linda's pale face and nervous eyes, there was something to fear here. He eyed Khalid, hunched like an ogre.
Linda and Blakely quickly split up the small pile of supplies and waved him to follow. He stood and picked up his gym bag. Blakely eyed the bag and shook his head. "Leave it," he mouthed to him.
No way! He could carry it. He wasn't a baby. He shook his head and clutched his bag tighter.
The doctor opened his mouth, but Linda touched Blakely's arm and silenced him. She waved for the two of them to follow her. Jason marched behind her, and Blakely followed.
No one spoke as they traveled, even when their abandoned camp was hidden by stalagmites and boulders. The silence pressed around Jason, more frightening than screaming monsters and firing guns. Every odd noise made him jump, every crunch of their steps seemed to holler across the cavern. Thankfully, a half hour later, when they finally reached the tumble of rocks and boulders that led up to the smoking tunnel, Linda spoke. "Look." She pointed to the opening far above. "The smoke has thinned already. That'll make it easier for us to breathe."
"Yes," Blakely said, "but it may make it harder for us to trace the way back up." His expression was grim as he eyed the climb.
"Can you manage?" Linda asked.
"Do I have a choice?"
Linda squeezed the doctor's shoulder, then turned to him. "Jason, what about you? Can you climb up these boulders?"
"Piece of cake," he said with a squeak.
"Then we'd better hurry. I don't know how long the drugs will keep Khalid sleeping."
* * *
Khalid dreamed he gripped his mother's robe as the black storm descended on her camp in the desert. He tried to warn her that the gale was coming, but she just continued to talk to the other robed figures, oblivious to the roaring of the approaching sand and winds. He tugged on her robe, trying to get her attention, but she shoved him aside with her hip. He raced to the tent's flap, peeking out at the seething maelstrom as it wiped away the horizon. He turned to the group of robed figures, his mother among them. He screamed at them, his voice a reed before the wind. This time they heard him and turned. He opened his mouth to repeat his warning when he saw the faces peering over the veils. Not faces! Skulls. Yellow, sand-scrubbed bone peering over black veils. Skeletal hands reached for him from folds in the robes. He backed away into the roaring storm, a scream clutched in his throat.
Facing the storm's attack, Khalid jerked awake, confused as the roar followed him from his dream. He cringed against the roar until he realized it was just the waterfall crashing nearby. Swallowing hard, almost imagining his throat was caked with sand, he pushed out of his sleeping bag. He reached for his canteen. It was gone. He bolted up.
In one scan of the empty sleeping bags, like so many discarded snakeskins, he realized he had been duped. Damn her. He raised the pistol as if expecting an attack. He peered around. No sign. He glanced toward the distant smoking tunnel, where only a whispery black trace still seeped from the opening. At least he knew where she had gone.
He kicked through the scattered debris, inventorying the remains. All the lanterns were gone. Batteries too. No light source.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarette lighter. He flicked it open. A flame burst upward. It would be a fire to light his path.
A smile of determination pressed his lips flat. He would teach her. Soon she'd know his wrath and beg his forgiveness.
He would be like the black storm of his dream. Merciless and unstoppable.
TWENTY-FOUR
ASHLEY TOOK A STEP BACK, WONDERING IF HER EARS were playing tricks. How could this creature speak English? It had to be a coincidence, a common series of sounds that just happened to match an English word.
"Death," the old silver-haired creature repeated, pointing his stick and shaking it at her as if trying to get her to understand. He then planted his staff and leaned heavily on it, a saddened set to his shoulders. "Dobori dobi!" he finally said in a tired voice.
At his words, a gasp arose from around her, igniting a scurry of commotion. The few curious onlookers who still thronged around her scrambled away, disappearing into cave openings, cloth flaps quickly drawn across entryways. Not a single face peeked around a corner.
Only a scattering of the small creatures remained-those armed with diamond spears. And even these warriors shifted their feet nervously.
Ben spoke up beside her. "Ash, we've got trouble."
She glanced at him; his eyes were huge. "Ben?" she whispered, feeling exposed under the eyes of the creatures. "What do we do?"
"Hell if I know. You're the anthropologist."
"Maybe we should-" Ashley was interrupted by a firm stamp of the old creature's staff on the rock, demanding their attention.
"Dobori dobi!" The creature boomed, pointing at Ben with a long crooked finger. Then he turned and hobbled away.
"Wait!" Ben called.
The creature turned to face him, but it took much effort. He was obviously exhausted, coughing raggedly and leaning heavily on his staff.
With large, moist eyes, he stared back at Ben. He lifted a finger and placed it at the tip of his ear, then lowered his finger to the center of the design painted on his chest, just above his heart. He turned away and thumped across the empty rock to vanish into a cave opening.
