by Crumb, Kit
The hands provided direction, urging her, pulling her. She finally let go of the cable and sat down hard. It was pitch dark, and Claire could feel her claustrophobia starting to close in.
The two women clutched one another, as if either let go, the other might disappear.
“Claire what happened? I thought you’d fallen and I was terrified. I couldn’t tell what it was.”
Claire shook her head in an effort to clear her thinking but stopped when the pain intensified. “I’d wrapped the cable around an old iron wheel; it must have been pulled over the edge.” She ran her hand over the back of her head, it came away wet and sticky. She knew it was blood. Her head throbbed and her hands burned.
“Help me open my butt pack, I need some ointment.”
The two women did a little dance, Claire rolling onto her stomach too unsteady to stay up on her knees, Crystal tracing the belt with her fingers until she found the butt pack. There was no ointment.
With considerable effort, they pulled out everything they could find that would burn—lint, Kleenex and gauze. They used the last match, made a small mound of dirt and hollowed out the center, then built a tiny fire. At first, they stared into the flames and Claire’s feelings of being closed in vanished, but Crystal’s gasp alerted her to their surroundings.
The two were perched on a ledge approximately twelve feet long but only about three feet wide. Crystal was plastered to the wall, eyes wide with fear. Claire fell into her roll as EMT, took Crystal’s hand and looked for a way to distract her. “I can see the top. We’re only about fifteen feet down.”
Her words seemed to bring Crystal around. “Do you think we can climb out?”
Claire gave a tug on the cable and was surprised to find it solid. “The timber must be holding, I think so.”
The giant timber, pulled to the rim of the shaft by Claire’s weight, was long enough to span the narrow opening.
They found the iron wheel teetering on the lip of the ledge, pulled it on end and gained another three feet by standing on it. With Claire’s help, Crystal was able to climb the cable, then help Claire come up the last couple of feet. The women were exhausted, the fire on the ledge was out and they were in darkness again. Urging each other on, they crept away from the opening of the shaft, then collapsed onto their backs panting and gasping.
Chapter Thirty Four
sed by 20415 Pericolo Lane. Just beyond Claire’s Austin-Healey, it turned around in a driveway and parked on the dirt road. Two men in blue suits got out and walked down toward a giant gate but didn’t stop. Instead, they stepped over the drooping barbed wire of a dilapidated fence and sat on a huge stump just inside a circle of trees. Neither spoke as they watched the road.
Rye drew his revolver and was about to step into the clearing to confront the group, when another man emerged from the woods to join them. Rye sat back down into a crouch holstering his gun.
The foursome walked toward some cliffs that emerged from the hills, then disappeared. He quickly high-stepped through the woods, going around logs, stepping over branches, until he could see where they had gone.
Slowly at first, a shadow came into view until he realized it was the opening to a mine. The last man to join the group had a flashlight and was using it to lead the others inside.
Claire heard the noise first and pushed herself into a sitting position. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything,” Crystal said.
“Shhh. Now do you hear it?”
“Yeah.”
Claire stood up. “I’m sure I heard talking.”
Crystal stood, flailing her arms around in the dark until she found Claire. Grabbing the hand that smacked her in the shoulder, Claire guided her over to the wall.
“I think somebody’s coming. We need to get to the other side of the shaft and find a place to hide,” Claire said.
Without another word, she pulled out her lighter and began walking along with Crystal in tow, using the light cast by each spark.
When they reached the vertical shaft, they flattened themselves against the tunnel wall and shuffled past. As soon as they were clear, they began to walk.
Crystal pulled back against Claire’s forward movement. “What’s that?”
“What?”
“Do you feel it?”
Suddenly something soft and cool brushed against Claire’s cheek. “I feel it.”
She began spinning the wheel of the lighter in earnest, keeping it close to her body to protect the flame if it lit. It did for an instant, then flickered out.
“I can really feel it now. C’mon the air’s coming from the right.”
With Crystal in tow, Claire made her way following a cool breeze that seemed to be guiding her deeper and deeper into the old mine, never knowing that Rye was hiding in boulders just outside the mine shaft.
Chapter Thirty Five
The light illuminated a shoe print that plainly displayed a logo—an oval with “EMT Special” in the center. “Shit, that seals it, they’re here.” All heads spun around as though they might be able to see the intruders.
Then everyone looked at Simms. “Bonnie, you and Derrick stay put. Hubble and I’ll go back to the mansion.”
Rye ducked back around behind a boulder when he heard the sound of running. Two men emerged from the mine and ran to the edge of the clearing where they disappeared down a trail that led into the woods.
The two men burst into the clinic panting and breathless.
Simms turned to face Hubble. “Get into storage and take the C4 plugs and detonators to the mine. Send Derrick and Bonnie back, I’ll need them here.”
Hubble looked Simms in the eye and seemed to comprehend what was going to happen.
“I’ll need a key.”
“Of course.” Simms turned and led Hubble into his office, removing a key from his top center desk drawer.
“Go! Set the C4 at the opening of the morgue and around the mouth of the mine, then wait for me.”
As soon as Hubble was out of the office and down the hall, Simms took out another key, unlocked the small drawer on the right side of the desk and removed his .45 pistol. Then he followed Hubble about fifty yards into the woods and stepped off the trail.
Rye watched from his hidden vantage point as a man entered the clearing just in front of the mine entrance. Moments later Derrick and Bonnie went back down the trail. He watched Hubble head into the mine, and took that as his cue to come out of hiding, In one quick move, he lunged forward and placed the barrel of the pistol in the center of the man’s back.
In a flash, Hubble moved to the side using his right arm to knock Rye’s gun arm to the left. Rye tightened his arm, pulling the trigger in response. But Hubble was well out of the way and drove a left palm strike to Rye’s temple.
As soon as his gun arm had been knocked away, Rye knew he was facing a trained martial artist. Seeing the palm strike from the corner of his eye, he twisted his head at the last minute to avoid full contact. He attempted several of the moves Claire had shown him over the years but they were all slow and poorly aimed. His opponent, though smaller, was landing strike after strike. Rye knew that one was bound to bring him down. Lurching to one side he managed to avoid a kick aimed at his kidney and turning, sprinted into the mine. Hubble, wanting to get as far away from the mine as possible, did not follow.
Both women peered back into the black, at the sound of the pistol shot. Claire increased her pace and was suddenly being hit full face by a steady breeze.
She shook the lighter. “Come on, light goddamn it.” Her thumb was raw from turning the rough wheel.
Spin, spark….spin, spark
Spin, flame. Claire quickly cupped her had around the flame. “Do you see a shaft anywhere? It’s got to be close. Must be an air shaft leading to the surface.”
Crystal released her grip on Claire’s sleeve and ran to a small hole in the rock, about the size of a manhole cover, Inserting her head and shoulders into the ascending shaft. Claire took a last look and let the flame go out. Staggering and flailing her arms, she found Crystal. She could just make out the airshaft into which Crystal had climbed and could see her extended hand.
“C’mon, you’re right it leads to the surface,” Crystal said. But Claire didn’t make a move, didn’t say a word. “Claire, c’mon. Claire, what’s wrong?”
Chapter Thirty Six
Simms didn’t have to wait long for Derrick and Bonnie. He heard them talking as they half jogged, half walked down the trail. Without showing himself, he shot Derrick in the side of the head. Bonnie bolted down the trail toward the clinic. Simms stepped out onto the trail leveling his pistol at her head. He pulled the trigger, but missed, hitting her in the right shoulder. The shot knocked her to the ground, but she was up and running before he could get off another shot. He quickly checked Derrick’s pulse, then stepped around the body. When he reached the grass clearing that led to the clinic, he slowed to a walk. Bonnie was nowhere in sight but he could see blood on the door handle.
Pulling open the door, he found the hall empty. But there was blood on the floor.
“Bonnie, I heard shots. Are you hurt?” he called out.
No answer. Simms imagined her lying unconscious on the floor in one of the clinic rooms. When he stepped around into the first exam room a blur of red came out of nowhere slamming him in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him backwards. He staggered to catch his balance but was struck again by the fire extinguisher, this time in the groin. Tentacles of pain shot into his abdomen driving him to his knees. Bonnie followed him out the door and pushed him over onto his back. Raising the extinguisher high, she plunged it down aiming for his groin, but the move was too obvious and ponderously slow. Raising the gun, extending his arm full length, Simms fired several shots into her at near point blank range knocking her back through the door and onto the floor.
Ignoring the throbbing from his broken nose and the urge to curl up into a fetal position from the pain between his legs, Simms staggered to his feet and stumbled down the path toward the mine.
He cleared the trees and crossed the clearing just as Hubble came out of the mine. Hubble didn’t see the gun until Simms had it leveled at his chest. Neither spoke. Simms fired three shots driving Hubble against a boulder next to the entrance of the mine. He didn’t see the three figures moving through the woods in the direction of the mine. He picked up the flashlight Hubble dropped and began scanning the walls for the C4. Finding all twelve plugs, he discovered the detonator just outside the morgue, picked it up and put it in his pocket.
“Hubble, efficient to the end,” Simms’s said as he limped back to the entrance.
When he was clear of the opening, he turned to face the mine and began walking backwards, finally stopping near the middle of the clearing. His attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of running feet. Before he could turn to see what was happening, someone tackled him around the ankles, knocking him to the ground. His right arm was yanked behind his back urging him to his feet. Two men stepped into view.
“Where’s Rye Anderson?” the taller of the two demanded.
Simms blinked and shook his head, totally confused.
The shorter man stepped forward delivering a savage punch to his stomach. The arm behind his back wouldn’t allow him to bend over, as the convulsions demanded.
“I’ll ask you one more time. Where is Anderson?”
The smaller man stepped forward and spoke to the man holding Simms in an arm lock.
“Turn him loose, Phil.”
Bobby Panther snapped off a right jab to Simms’s already broken nose, but the scream was masked by the blast from a shotgun.
Paul Casey and Bobby Panther whipped around to see a woman standing there, chest-heaving, shotgun pointed directly at them.
The woman chambered another shell. “Peter, get over here.” Simms limped past Bobby Panther. Jamming his hand into his pocket, he pulled out the detonator. Staggering next to Rosie, he held out his hand, thumb poised over a bright red button. He pressed it.
The blast knocked over the Panther brothers and drove Paul Casey up against a tree, driving a huge cloud of dust out of the mouth of the mine that covered nearly the entire clearing. By the time they got to their feet, Rosie and Simms were gone.
“Everyone alright?” Paul said, between coughs.
The brothers looked first to the mine, then the trail.
“Shit, what the hell happened?” Bobby asked.
Paul ignored the question. “Phil, get down the trail after them. Bobby, go back the way we came, on the run, block the gate with the car. I’m staying to search the mine.”
Chapter Thirty Seven
Rye slowed to a jog when he lost his light to the first bend in the tunnel. He would have fallen in the same vertical shaft that trapped Crystal if he hadn’t stopped to listen to the sound of voices. For a moment, he thought he recognized the voice of one of the guys who kidnapped him, but shook it off and shuffled past the shaft. When he heard what he thought were female voices he began to run, dragging one hand against the tunnel wall for guidance. In the dim light of the airshaft, he could just make out the image of a woman. As he neared, it became clear that it was Claire. Just as he reached his wife’s side, an enormous blast rocked him backwards; the concussion that followed caused his ears to pop.
Crystal looked up at Rye from her position in the shaft and extended a hand. As he grabbed Claire by the seat of her pants and collar, he shouted, “Go, go, go,” and threw his wife into the air vent, diving in after her.
Chapter Thirty Eight
“I found Bonnie in the hall, Jesus Christ, Peter,” Rosie said. Then I saw Derrick on the trail. Where’s Hubble?”
“In the mine, but he was dead before the blast.”
Rosie stopped running. “Everything’s turned to shit, Christ, turned to shit. What are we going to do?”
Simms reached over and pulled the shotgun from her grip.
“Keep it together, Rosie. We torch the clinic and the mansion and drive out the front gate like nothing’s happened.”
“Like nothing’s happened? Have you seen yourself? You look like you were hit by a truck, the grounds are littered with bodies … and who were those guys?”
Simms ignored Rosie’s ranting and started walking. “There’s no time for this, honey.”
The two moved on in silence until they reached the clinic.
“I’ll take care of the clinic, you torch the house. There’s gas in storage room. Now get going.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’ve never set a house on fire before.”
“Goddamn it Rosie, use your imagination.”
* * *
Bobby Panther sprinted down the dirt road leading to Pericolo Lane, keys in hand before he even reached the car.
With tires spinning, he hung a three-point U-turn and skidded onto the pavement headed for the gate. A man in a blue suit and sunglasses stepped out from behind one of the stone pillars.
The guy was built like a linebacker, and waved for him to stop. Bobby was actually slowing down when his door flew open and someone yanked him out. He’d wrestled for twenty years and was undaunted by the giant of a man who had him by the arm. But it was the .45 leveled at his chest and the sharp pain in his arm that stopped him.
Phil Panther nearly tripped over Derrick’s body. There was no reason to stop; he could see by the twist of the head that the man was dead. When he reached the clinic, fire was billowing out the windows. Phil ran around the wood and stucco building searching for a way in but it was too late; he couldn’t get within ten feet of the structure before being driven back by the heat. W
hen he reached the mansion, he opened the front door and called out, but a collapsing staircase drove him back out. Covering his mouth with his shirttail, he entered a side door but the heat was too intense to go on. Pausing to cough and clear his lungs, Phil circled the mansion, and not finding anybody, headed to the front gate.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Even before the dust settled, Paul Casey began picking his way through what used to be the opening of the mine. With his shirt collar pulled over his mouth, he felt around until the dust finally settled and he could see the mine was completely sealed. His hip ached and his head throbbed, but he knew he couldn’t rest until he caught up with the man who killed Rye Anderson. It was slow going down the trail to the clinic, which was burning itself out. When he reached the mansion, the ground floor windows were blown out and flames licked the outer walls. He finally allowed his pace to slow as he approached the gate, but was surprised to find it open.
The car blocking the way wasn’t Bobby’s muscle car, it was a black and silver BMW. A knot formed in Paul’s stomach at the sight of Phil kneeling over a prostate figure. Hopping as fast as his hip would allow he came up next to Phil, prepared for the worst.
“Bobby.” Paul stared down at his friend in total disbelief.
“He’s fine Paul.” Phil said looking up. “But you’d better have a look in the BMW.”
Paul passed through the open gate, and immediately recognized the two occupants as the woman with the shotgun and the man who had blow up the mine. They were leaning stiffly at odd angles. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he reached the car—both had been horribly gutted.
As he turned from the car, Phil greeted him, his arm around his brother who was rubbing the center of his chest.
“Jeez, I think one of those blue suited goons punched me in the chest. Thought I’d been shot.”
Paul looked to Phil for an explanation. “Apparently when Bobby got here he wasn’t the only one looking to catch up with those two.” Phil nodded toward the BMW.
Bobby broke loose from his brother, walked the last few steps to the car and peered in the open window.