by Susan Stoker
Casey sucked the scant moisture from the underside of her bra desperately. The half swallow of liquid she’d collected since the last time she’d checked her makeshift filter wasn’t enough. Wasn’t nearly enough.
She was dying. She could live without food for a long time, but not without water. The irony of it was that she stood ankle deep in liquid, but none of it drinkable.
Water had trickled into her prison fairly regularly at first. She’d heard it dripping down the wall. Always coming from the same place. She’d been cautious as first, not sure she should risk drinking the liquid leaking into the hole she was in. But when no one appeared to give her sustenance like they’d been doing when she was in the hut with her students, she’d made the filter with her bra.
It had worked surprisingly well. She managed to wedge it into the side of the hole and catch the water with the cup. She’d then licked the filtered water as it had seeped through the material of the bra. It wasn’t exactly clean, but at least she didn’t have to lick the mud off the walls.
But recently her water source had dried up. Casey had no concept of time in the darkness of her prison, but assumed it had been several days. Whereas before the water had been a fairly steady stream, now it was barely a trickle.
She’d spoken with her brother once about a time he’d been held hostage in the desert in the Middle East. He hadn’t been held long, thank God, but he’d told her about how helpless he’d felt, and how miserable the conditions were, though at no time had he allowed himself to believe he would die there. That had been the key to him overcoming the horrific circumstances, and the torture his captors had put him and his team through. He’d stressed that over and over. That mental toughness was the best thing she could use to help herself.
But Casey wasn’t that strong.
She almost thought that torture and rape would’ve been better than this.
Being buried alive and slowly dying of lack of water.
She could drink the putrid mess at her feet, but it would do her more harm than good, give her diarrhea, thus making her lose more liquid from inside her body, not to mention having to stand in the mess.
She hadn’t had to pee in quite a while, which she knew wasn’t a good sign. She was getting just enough water through her bra filter to keep her alive, but she’d begun to think she might as well stop trying.
Casey blinked, trying in vain to see any kind of light, without success. Pulling her feet up out of the brackish water at the bottom of the hole, she grabbed hold of them with her arms. Laying her head on her bent knees, she closed her eyes. Maybe she could fall asleep and just not wake up.
She was tired. So tired.
Aspen wasn’t coming for her. She had to stop kidding herself. She hadn’t heard any kind of noise above her head in what seemed like forever, not since the gunshots. She was in the middle of a jungle in Costa Rica. Buried deep in the ground in a tomb. No one was ever going to find her.
* * *
Beatle tromped down another trail that led out of the village into the jungle. He stopped in his tracks, shuddering, when he came upon a huge spider web in his path. There was nothing he liked less than bugs. Growing up poor, he’d always found cockroaches, ants, and insects in his house. He would wake up to them crawling on his face. They freaked him out back then, and they continued to freak him out today.
But he had more on his mind than creepy-crawly bugs at the moment. Using his rifle to break up the web, he strode past it and continued scanning the jungle floor. He was more than aware of every second that passed. He somehow knew, deep in his gut, that time was running out for Casey.
She’d been missing far too long. If she was out here, he needed to find her. Now.
Walking up to another abandoned well, Beatle leaned over. Shining a light downward, he saw water glistening at the bottom of the ten-foot hole. No Casey.
There was a green rubber thing hanging over the edge of the well, one end resting toward the bottom, near the water. At first he thought it was just another vine, but upon closer inspection he realized it was a hose. Beatle followed it with his eyes as it disappeared into the jungle. He reached down and pulled. It gave slightly, but was apparently attached to something on the other end. He dropped it and shook his head. The residents of the village might not have running water in their homes, but they certainly were inventive when it came to collecting water as easily as possible.
Sighing, he turned his back to the water source and trudged toward the village. He had bigger things to worry about than investigating how Costa Rican natives jerry-rigged wells to give them a primitive source of indoor plumbing.
Beatle knew the others hadn’t had any luck finding Blade’s sister, either. They were each reporting their lack of success through the radio in his ear.
He was halfway back to the village when something made him look to his left. He stopped in his tracks and blinked.
Tilting his head, he tried to tell himself what he was seeing was nothing more than an animal trail…but it wasn’t.
Beatle reached out and tugged on the leafy branches blocking the slight path, expecting resistance. There was none.
The branches weren’t attached to anything.
His heart rate immediately sped up.
Why would there be branches strategically placed across this path if there wasn’t something—or someone—at the other end that a villager didn’t want anyone to find?
Easily removing the other branches in his way, which also weren’t attached to anything, Beatle took large strides through the thick underbrush. He came to a halt at what he assumed was the end of the trail.
He stared at the thick wood planks at his feet. There were three boards in a row that seemed to have been recently placed out here in the jungle. There were dark green vines woven together across their surface, and others strewn haphazardly on top, as if to try to make them more unnoticeable to the eye. Or to hide the fact that there might be something underneath the wood.
He knew without a doubt he’d found Casey Shea.
Whether she was alive or dead remained to be seen.
He fell to his knees by the wood and vines and pressed his finger to the comm unit at his ear. “I found her. Southeast of the last hut. Take the path on the left, halfway down there’s a barely distinguishable footpath to the right.”
Knowing he couldn’t wait for his team, Beatle got to work cutting the vines away from the long, heavy wood boards.
“Casey? Are you there? Hang on, sweetheart, I’ll have you out of there in a couple minutes.”
Beatle had no idea if she could hear him, or if she was even conscious, but the words just fell out of his mouth without thought. The need to hold her and let her know she wasn’t alone anymore, urgent inside him.
He brought the palm of his hand down hard on the wooden planks keeping him from her. “Hear me, sweetheart? I’m here, and I’m going to get you out.”
* * *
Casey jerked in fright as something loud sounded over her head. She tilted her chin up as if she could magically see whatever it was that had made the noise. Of course, she still saw nothing. The darkness complete in her dungeon.
But the darkness suddenly seemed to lighten when she heard the first words, other than her own, since she’d been tossed inside the pit however long ago.
“I’m here, and I’m going to get you out.”
A whimper escaped her. Words wouldn’t come, her throat hurt too much to attempt it.
As adrenaline surged through her veins, Casey managed to stand on the platform she’d made. Keeping her head tilted up, she turned and faced the dirt wall. Raising her arms, she rested them on the wall above her head, reaching for whoever was above her. At that point, she didn’t care if it was her brother or her kidnappers. She wanted out of the pit she was in. She’d do whatever they told her to, as long as they’d let her out.
Another whimper escaped as she waited.
* * *
Beatle had finished brushing the vines
aside when he heard footsteps approaching quickly behind him. He didn’t even turn around. He was too focused on getting to Casey.
Two pairs of hands grabbed the vines he’d just removed and pulled them farther out of his way, tossing them off to the side without a second glance. Beatle immediately reached for one of the boards, but it barely budged.
“This fucker is heavy,” he said under his breath.
By that time, Beatle realized that all his teammates were there. Working as the team they were, everyone began to hoist together to remove the wood.
They tossed the first board out of the way, revealing a black tarp, with more dark-green vines keeping whatever was under it from sight. The stench of rotting animal began to seep upward, fouling the air around them. No one said a word, but Beatle saw Ghost give Fletch a worried glance, and his head tilted to the right in an unspoken command.
Fletch stood and took hold of Blade’s arm. “Give them room to work.”
As if in a trance, Blade allowed his friend to force him backwards a step.
Grimly, Beatle continued to the next board. She’s not dead, she’s not dead.
The words repeated over and over in his head.
The team worked together to remove the second board, tossing it next to the discarded vines and first board. Leaving the third wooden plank where it was, Beatle took out his knife and inhaled a deep breath before stretching forward and slowly slicing through the middle of the tarp, from one side to the other.
Once he’d created a large enough hole to see through, he impatiently shoved it out of his way and got down on his belly. He inched toward the gaping hole, part of his lower body resting on the remaining plank. He felt hands clamp onto his calves, holding him steady in case any dirt collapsed under his weight. Balancing himself with both hands on either side of the hole, he looked down.
The stench emanating from the pit was almost unbearable, but he breathed through his mouth, ignoring the smell. Beatle couldn’t see more than a few feet down into the hole. It was deeper than he thought it would be. Reaching back, he held out his hand and ordered, “Flashlight.”
Within seconds, a slender tubular object was placed in his hand. Without looking, he brought his arm forward, clicked on the button to turn on the light and shone it downward at the same time he asked, “Casey?”
The sight that greeted him about broke his heart.
“Is she there?” Blade asked, his voice breaking.
Without thought, Beatle inched forward, wanting to reach down into the hole and grab hold of the woman who’d somehow managed to impress him without ever meeting him in person. The hands at his calves pressed down harder, holding him tighter, making sure he didn’t fall into the hole on top of her.
Ignoring his friend for the moment, Beatle called out again, “Casey?”
She didn’t answer or move.
“My name is Beatle. I’m here to take you home.”
* * *
Casey waited as the noises above her head got louder and louder. She could hear voices, but not what they were saying.
But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out.
There was rustling over her head and, for the first time since she’d been thrown in the hole, she saw something other than blackness.
It was just a slight lightening of the dark, but even that hurt her eyes.
She was torn between wanting to keep her eyes open and finally see something again, and not hurting herself. Not hurting herself won out. She scrunched her eyes shut, but otherwise didn’t move.
There was more rustling above her and the voices grew louder.
If she had any moisture left in her body, Casey knew she’d be crying with relief.
She knew the second the last barrier between her and the rest of the world was removed. She felt the air from her hole rush past her. Her hair rustled with the breeze. She had the thought that even the stagnant, fetid air wanted to escape the tomb it’d been in.
She heard her name being called from above. She’d never heard anything so amazing in all her life. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was deep and soothing. She could tell from just her name that whoever had said it was American, with a slight southern accent. The sound burrowed inside her wounded heart.
Casey knew she’d never forget the feeling of safety, of security, she felt at that moment, just from hearing her name come from the man’s lips.
“Is she there?”
It was her brother. God! She knew he would come for her. She knew it.
“Casey? My name is Beatle. I’m here to take you home.”
She hadn’t moved a muscle, afraid she was hallucinating, but at hearing that southern drawl again, she reacted.
She inched one hand away from the wall and clenched it into a fist, then opened it and held it up as far as she could, standing on her tiptoes to try to get closer to the top of the hole. Then, she slowly opened her eyes a fraction of an inch and squinted upward. She couldn’t make out anything other than a shadow above her, but the beckoning and welcome sunlight behind the man with the low, gravelly voice was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
“Help me,” she said, not recognizing her own voice. It was barely a whisper, and came out more a croak than actual words.
“I’ve got you, Case. I’m not leaving without you.”
The light hurt her eyes, even though she was squinting, so Casey shut them once more. But she smiled weakly up at the man who’d called himself Beatle. It was appropriate that a man with the name Beatle was rescuing an entomologist.
* * *
Beatle froze at the sight of Casey Shea smiling up at him. She was covered from head to toe with mud and muck. The stench emanating from the hole was making his eyes water, but somehow, after all she’d been through, Casey was smiling. At him.
God.
Right then, in the middle of a godforsaken jungle, smack dab in the midst of a rescue op, Beatle fell head over heels in love.
He’d been ready to be impressed by Casey. He already liked her, simply after hearing stories about her from her brother all day. But seeing that smile had sent him over the edge.
He’d do whatever it took to keep Casey safe from here on out. Whatever made her happy, he’d bend over backwards to give her.
He’d never understood why good soldiers quit the Army. He’d asked a fellow Delta once why he was getting out, and the man had only smiled and told him, “When you meet a woman you love with every cell in your body, you’ll know why.”
At the time, he’d thought the man was insane for quitting what he’d spent a good chunk of his life training to do. But he finally understood. He’d quit on the spot if it meant making Casey happy.
“Beatle?” It was Blade.
Scooting back so his elbows rested on the remaining plank over the hole, he turned his head to look at Casey’s brother. Knowing full well she could hear every word he said, Beatle kept his words upbeat and positive. “She’s there, and she’s conscious and talking.”
“Fuck,” Blade swore. He closed his eyes and leaned over, propping himself up with his hands on his knees. “Fuck!”
It was easy to see he was struggling for composure.
Beatle looked at Ghost. “I’m gonna need some rope.” He didn’t, but he motioned back to the village with his head.
Because they’d been working together so long, Ghost immediately understood his unspoken words. “Coach, can you help Blade go back to the village and see if you can find any rope?”
“Absolutely. Come on, Blade, the sooner we go, the sooner we can get your sister out of here,” Coach said without pause. He’d also seen Beatle’s nonverbal signal to get Blade away from the area while they pulled Casey out.
Without another word, Blade turned from the group and headed back down the slight path, Coach at his heels.
Beatle had a feeling Blade knew he was being sent on a fool’s errand to keep him away from the reality of seeing his sister as she emerged from the hole, bu
t he’d obviously taken Ghost’s words to heart about being there when his sister was rescued, and what it might mean for her future recovery.
As soon as the men were out of hearing range, Ghost asked, “What are we dealing with, Beatle?”
“She’s about four feet below the top of the hole. I think I can reach her if you guys hold my legs and pull us up once I have her.”
“We could fashion a belay rope out of the vines around here,” Hollywood said.
Beatle shook his head immediately. “No time. She needs to get out of there.” He knew by the desperation in her actions his words were true.
Truck was already at his knees behind Beatle. “Do it. I’ll make sure you don’t fall in headfirst.”
Beatle nodded and turned back to the hole—and froze as some of the dirt under him shifted. He looked at Ghost. “Once I have a hold of her, I’m not letting go. When I say pull, pull. Hard.”
Ghost nodded. He kneeled down on one side of Beatle, and Hollywood and Fletch got down on the other side. Beatle felt their hands on his back, and he nodded.
He inched forward slowly so the edge of the board was at his waist. He jammed the flashlight under a strap at his shoulder. The light bounced crazily around the interior of the hole, but he didn’t need it aimed directly at Casey to be able to see her.
She was still standing exactly as she’d been earlier. Both arms raised, head back…waiting. For him.
“Hey, Case. You ready to get out of there?”
She nodded.
“You heard me tell your brother to go get rope, right?”
Another nod.
“I don’t think I need it. But he’ll be back. You’ll see him soon.”
Her eyes opened into slits again. If he didn’t already know she was blonde and had green eyes, Beatle wouldn’t have been able to tell by looking at her now. The combination of dirt and lack of light prevented both, but the life he saw shining out of her eyes from deep inside her once again made his stomach clench.
“Thank you for sending him away,” she croaked.