The rope spun and I angled to the side as a drakon leapt and body slammed me. Its teeth missed, just barely, and I wished I’d’ve pulled the machete from their mother’s mouth. I eased to the side, pulled out my left gun, and fired a few rounds until the creature hesitated, giving me moments to climb farther.
Five feet from the top and faces peered down—Curtis and Thomas—who both looked past me, their headlamps illuminating the huge tunnel. Seconds later their guns were out and bullets tore through the space. I kept my head down, my focus on the rope, even as lead sped past me to strike the reptilian bodies on either side. My arms were ready to give out as I reached the top and Thomas latched onto my elbow, steadying me as I stood.
“Pulaski?” I asked as I unhooked my harness from the rope.
“With West escorting the others out,” Thomas said, his voice deep and booming. “Rolph?”
I shook my head and he glanced away, cursing.
“Do you have the fucking Seal?” Curtis shouted over fire from her own weapon.
I bit back a comment and started jogging from the tunnel. “Yes, let’s move.”
Both were at my heels and what else might be joining us, I didn’t want to know.
❇
I’d pulled out my flashlight to join the headlamps of my companions and we worked our way back through the cave the way we came, even as scratches over stone echoed behind us. I remembered the path but kept an eye on our tracks in the dirt, watched for landmarks we’d followed previously any time we weren’t near the rigging left behind. I had no helmet and had to watch each time I ducked, protect my skull with my arms, and tried not to think of my headlamp still casting light over the floor in that massive chamber as the last of Mr. Rolph’s body was torn into.
Trust West.
An odd last request that sent an uncomfortable chill through me.
At last the floodlights shining through that first deep pitch met my gaze. Thomas ran past me, skipped attaching his harness, and leapt for the rope; he climbed it with speed and agility I couldn’t even hope for, like the top student in gym glass who demonstrated just how the fuck it was done. As his feet disappeared into the hole in the ceiling, I grabbed the rope and followed. My arms felt on fire and screamed at me, and if they worked for me tomorrow I’d consider it a goddamn miracle, but still I climbed. The sounds of creatures behind us had since faded but I moved fast, unwilling to chance them catching up.
Thomas grasped my arm and helped pull me up the final foot and to my feet on the edge of the hole, and he had my gratitude for it.
I massaged my arms as I stepped out of the way for Curtis to rise as well and rounded the floodlights. Hair irritated my eyes and I brushed it back. “He said the plane would be able to get us at dawn?”
“Tomorrow morning, then,” Thomas said, and we started in the direction of the hole that would lead to the surface. “It’s early evening. Is West coming back?”
“He says no.”
Thomas said nothing—he came with West, so perhaps that made him uncomfortable. Still, I trusted he’d see us onto the plane with the ring, rather than risk his employer’s wrath.
We trekked back though tunnels, up a small incline, and then came to the hole that would lead above. I blinked against the light of a late day shining through the pitch, welcoming if not painful to my eyes. My pulse was once again returning to normal, adrenaline seeping away, and hauling myself up that rope was incredibly unappealing.
But I had the Seal and I never had to come back to this motherfucking place again. I nearly wept with relief. Once again Thomas went first, and as I followed, it was his steady hand that got me standing on solid ground. Fresh air met me and I sucked in a breath. My eyes watered and I blinked against the light.
As my vision adjusted, I recognized the hard stare of Tucker on me; he leaned against stacked equipment crates by the floodlights, his arms crossed at his chest.
My flesh prickled beneath my clothes, irrational foreboding rising as Curtis climbed out after me.
“Got the Seal?” Tucker asked in his thick southern drawl.
“Yes,” Curtis answered behind me.
For a moment it registered that they had me surrounded, then my gaze flickered to the ground behind the crates, the open palm of a lifeless hand barely visible.
West’s other team member—
I hadn’t time to reach for a weapon when Tucker’s gun was out and it cracked through the air. Thomas went down at my side and I froze as the barrel landed on me.
“Hands up, beauty queen,” Tucker said calmly.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. I could draw quickly but not fast enough, so I raised my hands, fingers splayed.
Curtis moved behind me and jerked the guns from the holsters at my hips, then pitched my weapons into the distance where I’d have little hope of finding them quickly. A few more steps put her behind me, too far to physically attack her, and Tucker was out of range as well.
I waited.
A wind kicked up as both my opponents studied me, fluttering my hair. They could shoot me easily, dump my body in the hole an inch to the right, and no one would be wiser.
In fact, I strongly suspected Tucker was thinking the very same thing as he asked, “Where’s the Seal?”
“I have it. This is over, you don’t need to—”
The barrel of the gun never wavered. “Where’s West?”
I didn’t reply.
Curtis shifted, moving into my peripheral vision with a gun trained on me. “Gone, she said. Took another exit out with the others. Already heading home, she said.”
Fuck.
“It would be easier if you hand over the Seal instead of making us search your body afterward,” Tucker said, eyes on me and unblinking. “But it’s your choice.”
Oh yeah, choice. As if I had one.
I shifted, testing them, and they both tensed. Ready for me, apparently. I sighed and slowly moved my right hand toward my chest. “It’s in my shirt.”
A chilly grin touched Tucker’s lips and my stomach threatened to heave what little contents it housed, but he made no move toward me.
I slipped my fingers down the front of my shirt, past to my shelf bra and dipped into my cleavage until I felt the satchel containing the ring. I plucked it out and raised my hand so they could see.
Tucker remained steady. “Hand it to me. Slow.”
Nearly every instinct warned me not to hand them the ring—it was my only leverage, the only thing I had that would keep me alive. But I strongly suspected I could swallow the thing and they’d simply carve it out of my body. What happened to Brandon was my fault, clearly in their minds, and I wasn’t getting out of this one alive.
The only thing greater than my desire for a paycheck is survival.
I started to hand the satchel to Tucker before I whipped my arm back and threw it.
The black bag sailed through the air, over Tucker’s head, and both his eyes and Curtis’ followed it; Curtis shouted something, Tucker snarled, dirt kicking up under their feet and guns wavering.
I took a short step to the side and plummeted down the pitch.
Two feet into darkness and I grasped the rope; my arms jerked straight, joints screaming as my weight tugged on them. Gunfire sounded above and I loosened my grip on the rope until I was sliding downward, my gloves barely protecting my palms from the burn as I rapidly descended. Bullets spit through the air and fire lashed my forearm, blood spraying in my peripheral vision.
The moment my feet touched down, my knees buckled and I crumpled. I scrambled back before more bullets could hit, got my feet under me, and stumbled into the darkness behind me. The rope swayed a few moments longer before stopping, and gunfire ceased.
I waited, holding my breath and shaking, but no one followed. I wasn’t naive enough to think they’d leave the pitch, however.
I sucked in a few breaths and stepped back, not even daring to look at my arm where burning pain coursed through me. Blood was slippery, heavy, coatin
g my flesh and soaking through my gloves. When I found the floodlight-illuminated second pitch, I attached my harness and slid down, with only the use of my left arm, and paused at the bottom to gather my bearings.
My bearings were fucking up and gone for the rest of the day, though, just one panicky thought after the other.
Fuck. FUCK.
They took my fucking Seal. They took my fucking guns.
Fuck.
I detached the harness and slipped my bag off my shoulder to retrieve the first aid kit, trying not to look at how much blood I was gushing. The 9mm bullet had grazed my right forearm, taking with it a chunk of flesh. Pink and red meat met my gaze and bile rose, though I choked it down. A three and a half inch gash was carved out of my skin, at least a quarter inch deep if not more—I needed stitches, but none were in my inventory. There was little I could do but bite the inside of my mouth to stifle a cry, disinfect the wound, and bind the fucker up. Six hours. Maybe more but I’d be pushing my luck. Without stitches soon, I’d need the wound excised and everything done by a medical professional.
No gun and more drakones in here. Now they might smell blood.
There were other exits, yes, but I hadn’t a map. Or a helmet. Or much in the way of gear. I eased my backpack on, and eyed the various exits, shining my flashlight around.
The spear of light caught on a flash of blue near the archway to my far left.
I stepped closer, tired eyes narrowing, until I recognized the mark, or at least what made it: chalk. An arrow pointed through that door.
A sad smile formed on my lips.
Thank you, Mr. Rolph.
24
Back to Camp
In addition to the chalk marks Mr. Rolph had left, signaling the path he and Brandon had taken to reach us days earlier, I found an HK MP5K fitted with a tactical flashlight and four extra magazines with the man of West’s who had been killed the day before. Not with him, per se, but near his rotting corpse. I slipped the weapon’s strap over my shoulder, stowed away the magazines, and carted it with me through the caves.
By the time I emerged from the cave exit, night had fully fallen and I only had one magazine left.
A black sky hung above with pinpricks of stars that did little to light the area around me and the air chilled my sweat-slicked skin immediately. I crept out on blistered, aching feet and glanced around cautiously. No sign anyone had been stationed there to greet me with a bullet but my flashlight was tucked away and I had my finger on the submachine gun’s trigger just in case.
After a break for water, I set my compass on a large boulder and cast a penlight over it, aligning myself. I’d walked—and climbed—a few kilometers in the cave, though time was saved with the chalk markers to follow and climbing rigs already set up. Camp was a ways off but not impossible to reach.
And I’d reach it. I’d reach it and get my motherfucking Seal, deliver it to Ashford myself, get my goddamn paycheck, and let West know about the mutiny he’d left in his absence. I’d argued for Brandon’s life, yes, but I was not going to object this time to the remaining mercs having their hands bitten off as punishment.
I just needed to find them before the plane came at dawn.
❇
I sat crouched in the darkness at the base of a small hill about fifty meters from camp.
The orange glow of a strong fire highlighted the tents and flickered in the night breeze. Tucker and Curtis took turns walking the perimeter of the camp, never venturing out as far as I waited. I’d seen no sign of Pulaski—perhaps, if he’d returned, they’d killed him like Thomas.
Dawson sat alone at his tech table and there was no sign of Laurel.
I slipped the cave radio from my knapsack, very glad Dawson had given me one, opened it and moved the wires in place while guided by the faint glow of my penlight pinched between my lips—shielded as best as I could with my bag, of course. I’d popped some ibuprofen but it barely took the edge off the ache in my arm. I needed medical attention of some kind but we were miles and miles from a city and I couldn’t risk leaving without my quarry.
I typed a message with care to Dawson—one handed, so it took a while. I’M OK. DO NOT ALERT THE MERCS.
And I waited.
A moment later he shifted in his seat, head tilting as if to check the position of the others, then his fingers hammered on the keyboard. THINGS DIDN’T GO WELL.
No, they sure as fuck didn’t. CAN YOU GET THE SEAL?
ARE U INSANE?
I stifled a sigh. WHERE IS IT?
TUCKER’S TENT.
Oh joy of joys. On the bright side, Tucker wasn’t currently in his tent. I just had to get close enough to obtain the ring.
PLAN? he asked.
One was forming but he probably wouldn’t like it. Hell, I didn’t like it. IS LAUREL OK?
A pause. Then: WONT LEAVE HER TENT. SCARED.
I’ll bet. I KNOW WHERE THE JEEP IS. CAN YOU BE READY AND MAKE SURE LAUREL IS TOO?
YES, he returned without hesitation.
GOOD. DO IT.
He waited until about five minutes had passed, then made a show of yawning as he packed up his laptop. He spoke quietly to Curtis for a moment, then scurried for the tent I’d shared with him and Laurel.
I gathered the cave radio again, ensured everything was secure in my bag, and rose to a crouch, then crept around the camp until I faced the tent where he and Laurel waited. There was no easy way in without being seen; I left my bag and gun behind but pulled a knife out, waited for the mercs to be out of sight, and slipped forward silently, scampering for the tent. I angled my knife along the seam swiftly—the cut was a soft buzz in the otherwise quiet night, but glances to either side of me revealed no one had caught me. Once I had a decent slice in it, I slipped inside.
The tent interior was lit by a single lantern, casting tired yellow over the taupe canvas. Laurel sat on her cot and her eyes grew huge, but I lifted my finger and pressed it to my lips.
“Told you so,” Dawson said in a low voice. He sat on the cot opposite her, two packed bags at his feet. My own luggage was nowhere to be seen—perhaps the mercs had moved or gotten rid it.
I slipped a single set of car keys from the pocket in my belt and handed them to him while keeping crouched low to the ground and out of the light. “Spare ones from the Jeep. You’re both ready to go?”
He nodded. Laurel still looked like her brain hadn’t yet caught up to what she was seeing. “But surely someone’s going to come back for us,” she started.
“West left. Mr. Rolph is dead. They shot Thomas and another of West’s team. They were about to kill me. I imagine they’re planning to deliver the ring to Ashford themselves with you two in tow, but I’m not taking any chances.” Once more I turned to Dawson. “I need you to slip out,” I whispered, “and fill your canteen, and come right back to tell me what the positions of the others are. Do you have my cell phone still?”
He nodded and slipped it from his laptop bag.
“Add your number. How’s reception been?”
“Not...too horrible.” He thumbed in the number and handed it to me. “Hit or miss.”
Good enough. I stowed the phone in a padded pouch on my belt. “I’ll text you when the coast is clear. Come out the way I came in, run straight, and I’ll meet you back a ways from the camp and show you where the Jeep is.”
“Uh, Liv, I’m not gonna crawl through that hole.” His face flushed and immediately I felt bad, so I handed him my knife.
“Make it bigger, right along the seam like I did, and do it quickly—by the time they notice, we’ll be long gone—and turn down the light, like you two are going to sleep.”
He nodded, set the knife on the cot, took a deep breath and rose. I waited while he slipped out to fill his canteen and turned to Laurel.
“You’re on board? No freaking out?”
She blinked, as if coming back to herself, and her dark eyes narrowed. “Am I on board with ditching those motherfuckers and heading home? Oh, hell yeah
.”
Good woman. She leaned down and checked the pockets on her overnight bag. Whatever else we’d brought would have to stay—can’t be stealthy with bags of designer clothes.
Dawson returned, careful to ensure the tent flap was closed behind him, and tied his canteen strap to his bag. “They’re talking over by the tech table.”
Which was perfect, at least for me to slip out—I nearly asked them to follow immediately but then rushing would put us at risk. “Cell phone ready.”
He nodded. His eyes were wide and worried—I hated putting them both in this situation, but then I hadn’t. Some pissed off mercs had. I couldn’t feel like shit about this—not until we were somewhere safe where I could stress-eat for a while.
I took a breath and crawled for the gap in the tent flap, dirt giving gently under my boots, then darted forward. I ran crouched low, slipped into the tall grass, grabbed my pack and gun as I ran by and didn’t stop until I was cloaked in darkness away from the camp. I gave it a few minutes, watching Curtis and Tucker do their rounds, then sent a text to Dawson.
The light in their tent dimmed. If I squinted, I could catch the makeshift tent flap quivering in the darkness and two figures emerge. I held my breath, frozen head to toe waiting, not relaxing until they were stepping through the tall grass and nearing me. Their steps hurried the farther they went and I stood silently as to not startle them, gesturing for them to follow.
When the glow of camp was distant behind us, I flicked on my penlight, which was enough to light the immediate ground but I didn’t think Curtis or Tucker would see, not past the hills and dips of the wilderness we traversed.
“The road is this way,” I said in a low voice as we walked. Laurel kept so close she was nearly stepping on my feet, while Dawson cast a few wary glances over his shoulder but maintained half a foot distance from me. I aimed the penlight ahead and after a few more minutes of walking, it glinted off of the Jeep. I threw my pack and the submachine gun in the back. “Get in and wait for me.”
Solomon's Seal Page 21