Cautiously Alex got out of the car and walked over to the front door. It was deathly silent. A soft breeze cut through the lush trees behind the house. She opened the door to find an empty reception in a poorly lit room. On the counter was a money box with a sign simply showing KHR20 000. Converted, twenty thousand Cambodian Riel was a little over twenty pounds. She slipped the amount into the box, grabbed a room key from the orange shoebox next to it and dashed back out to the car.
“Sam! Come! I found a place to stay the night.”
Sam whimpered softly as she pulled him up from the back seat of the car and propped her body under his armpit. Her backpack and bag with medicinal supplies hung over her other shoulder. Thankfully there were no stairs. Tiny droplets of blood left a trail in the sand from the car to the the front door as they slowly entered the motel and made their way to their room down the passage. Sam was lucid enough to limp through the door and flopped down on the only double bed in the center of the room. The room was dark and dingy looking, but it would suffice. To the right was a small bathroom. Alex ran and grabbed a couple of threadbare towels from the bathroom and positioned it under Sam’s injured leg before rummaging through the drawers in the room. In the closet opposite the bed was a padded cotton sheet similar to the ones used in the hospitals, which Alex thought very odd, but nevertheless quickly used to replace the bathrooms towels with. A small stainless steel kettle stood on the desk under the window along with a tall silver cup, a matching flat dish and a small pair of sharp scissors. This was no ordinary motel, that’s certain. She popped the kettle on and hurried to the bathroom to clean her hands. Light pink water ran into the small white basin as the washed off Sam’s blood. She looked up into the mirror above the basin. She felt like vomiting. What the hell have they gotten themselves into? she thought as she splashed cold water over her face.
“Right. Let’s do this,” she said to herself in the mirror before heading back out to pour hot water from the kettle into the flat silver dish. Her knife clanked against the metal as she dropped it into the hot water to sterilize it. Minutes later she had the items of the shopping bag spread out on the bed. Now what? Hands on her hips she stared down at the contents unsure where to start. From the corner of her eye, her once bright patterned scarf around Sam’s thigh was drenched in blood. She looked back at the dispensary on the bed next to him and grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took several gulps from the bottle. The bitter liquid burned her throat but she took two more big gulps before lifting Sam’s head and putting the bottle to his lips. He took several swigs and dropped his head back onto his pillow. Alex paused and took another large sip before placing the bottle on the nightstand.
The knot in the scarf was too tight, and her fumbling fingers didn’t help to get it undone either. She grabbed the scissors and cautiously cut through the thin fabric. Alex exhaled in relief as she opened the wound to see that the blood had somewhat stopped. She released her belt that was still tied around his thigh, and cut through the thick denim leg of the pants. A gaping round bulled hole stared back at her. Her stomach churned as the nausea pushed up into her throat. Pausing for just a second to pull herself together again, she lifted Sam’s leg to see if by some miracle the bullet might have past through his leg, but it didn’t. There was no exit wound. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. There was no way out of it. She’d have to remove this bullet and fast.
“This might hurt a little, Sam. You might want to brace yourself.”
Sam needed no warning. His hand reached for the whiskey bottle next to him.
“Yeah. Good idea,” Alex said as she helped him take several more swigs before taking another one herself.
“I need you sober for this,” Sam mumbled while fumbling with his belt buckle in an attempt to remove it himself.
Alex, slightly puzzled, lifted his T-shirt and removed the revolver that was still tucked in his waste-band before pulling his belt off.
“Now’s not the time and place for this you know?” Sam joked subdued.
“Oh stop,” she responded shyly and handed him his belt.
Sam bit down hard on the leather strap.
“Ok. Ready?”
Sam nodded but his eyes said something entirely different. Alex picked up the steaming hot knife and paused over the gaping hole.
“Are you sure about this, Sam? What if I slice through an artery or something?”
Sam nodded and shut his eyes, biting down harder on the leather strap. The hot blade sliced through his flesh as easily as a hot knife through butter. Much to Alex’s surprise, Sam didn’t flinch. She proceeded to make a small incision across the hole. Instantly the blood started gushing out. She cursed under her breath as she fought the urge to hurl all over the tacky brown carpet.
She threw the knife back into the hot water and grabbed the bottle of sterilizing liquid. The lid spun off in one rapid twist and flung to the floor. Without hesitation she poured a substantial amount over the wound. Sam squealed with pain as the liquid hit his open wound.
Alex jerked her hand back and cringed in empathy. “Sorry!”
But it seemed to have done the trick. The bleeding stopped. The worse, however, was still to come. She wiped her brow on her sleeve as she readied her fingers over the gaping wound. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sam for fear of seeing his pain and quitting the procedure half way through. She swallowed and stuck two fingers into the wound. It was a disgusting feeling. She had imagined it would feel like stuffing garlic cloves into a leg of lamb, but it wasn’t. It was hot and sticky instead. Sam groaned as she prodded and probed into his wound. Less than ten seconds later she felt the hard metal object under her forefinger. It was stuck underneath his thigh muscle but luckily hadn’t penetrated any bone or fractured. She reached across Sam and picked up the pliers from the bed with her other hand. It wouldn’t reach at that angle, she thought. The dark red blood bubbled up between her fingers. Even with the incision, the hole didn’t provide enough space for two of her fingers and the pliers. It wouldn’t work. She would have to use her fingers. She couldn’t see past the pooling blood either so she threw the pliers back down on the bed. This would be where the surgeon would call for suction, she reflected. Sam moaned in pain again as her fingers started moving around the bullet. She tried not to pay attention to his groans. She had to remain focused. If she did this right, it would all be over soon.
She squeezed her fingers together and trapped the bullet between her forefinger and middle finger and slowly pulled her hand out. The clinging noise of the bullet hitting the bottom of the stainless steel cup was music to their ears.
“Ha! I did it! Sam! I did it!” she exclaimed in joy still staring at the giant copper bullet in the bottom of the cup.
Sam’s moans had stopped. She looked at him and realized he had passed out. Her eye caught sight of the gaping wound. Blood gushed out like a bubbling fountain. Panic hit Alex as she grabbed the sterilizing liquid off the nightstand and poured a generous amount into the wound. She pushed the cloth down hard onto the wound. The pressure seemed to help. Or the liquid. She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. The bleeding stopped. She’d have to close the wound somehow. Blast! She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Sam had lost a lot of blood so it was crucial. She took his belt that was still clenched between his teeth and tied it tightly around the pressure bandage before removing her belt that was still tied above the wound. It should cancel each other out. In theory, that is. She needed a needle and a thread. She ran across the room to the bathroom and frantically searched the small basket with the complimentary soaps and shampoos. Got it. Her bloodied fingers ripped open the little sewing kit to reveal a rainbow of colored thread and a couple of needles. Back at Sam’s side, she yanked a piece of yarn out and pushed it through the needle’s eye. Her fingers were sticky from the blood. The thought of sewing through flesh disgusted her, but she had come this far already. It couldn’t possibly be more stomach-churning than sticking your fingers into a gaping wound. At least Sam wasn
’t aware of anything now.
The needle pierced through his tough skin forcing her to push down harder on the needle to penetrate the skin. In her mind she was back in Tanzania sitting next to Jelani and her mum sewing blankets from the animal skins.
Seven stitches later and the wound was closed up; albeit not that neat, it did the trick. She was no seamstress after all.
Another five minutes later and the wound was neatly cleaned and bandaged. She knelt next to the bed and admired her work. She did it. Remarkably, she did it. Tears of relief rolled down her cheeks as a wave of emotion washed over her exhausted body.
In the small bathroom mirror, the sight of her bloodstained hands left streaks across her teary face. Her chin and palms had several open scratches from her fall over the barricade. She popped into the shower and watched rivers of pink water eventually run clear into the drain trap. The warm, soothing water of the shower was relaxing. She didn’t allow her thoughts to trail to tomorrow just yet. What mattered most was that Sam would be fine. Tonight, they both needed their rest.
On the bed Sam’s breathing was stable, and he was still asleep. The bandage was still clean which meant the wound was also in a stable condition. She took a damp towel and gently wiped Sam’s face before lying down next to him on the bed. This was not how this relic hunt was supposed to go. Earlier that week she had almost lost her life at the waterfall, and today, Sam nearly lost his. What was it about this Urn that stirred up such fuss? She leaned over and grabbed Sam’s gun off the side table and tucked it under her pillow. They would have to be alert from here on out and watch their backs. Someone out there is after the precious Golden Urn themselves, or will do whatever it takes for it to stay buried forever; no matter the cost. Even if it were someone’s life. Whatever the reason, it’s a relic, and she was hired to find it. Giving up wasn’t an option. Discovering the scroll shook things up. It was a dangerous mission, but one they would have to embark on if the truth were ever to be revealed.
Chapter Nine
Alex woke at the crack of dawn. Beside her, on the bed, Sam was still sound asleep. She felt his forehead. There was no sign of fever, and even in the dim light of the room, she could see his coloring had returned to normal. That was positive. She walked across to the window and peeped through the faded brown curtains. The view was nothing spectacular. Their room looked out onto the forest behind the house. Peering through the tall trees, the sun’s rays still sat low. She walked over to the door and popped her head out into the passage. It was as quiet and desolate as it was the night before. She shut the door again. Sam would be hungry when he woke. She doubted there would be a buffet set up in a dining room somewhere. She would have to leave to find them something to eat and drink someplace. She slipped her shoes on and grabbed her backpack from the chair in the corner and, with her hand on the doorknob, stopped. She should take the gun. Just in case. Sam would be fine until she got back.
With the gun safely tucked in the small of her back, she walked down the quiet corridor toward the reception; expecting to see someone behind the counter. There was no one. The money box and keys were untouched. The small office behind the desk was also empty. Unsurprisingly, there were no other rooms or a dining area where breakfast was served nor another human in sight. Outside the front door, their rental car was still the only one in the barren parking lot. It was already hot and humid even though the sun hadn’t risen yet.
At her feet, a visible line of blood ran through the sand and stopped at the car. With her shoes, she quickly swept the sand over the trail to cover it up. The blood on the car seat had dried entirely during the night, but the mat under the pedals was still soaked. Looking over her shoulder, she quickly threw it in the trunk and slipped in behind the wheel. The screeching stick shift echoed loudly through the quiet morning air.
“Oh, bloody hell! Damn thing. Come on!” She shouted at it in annoyance.
Another couple of tries and she pulled off onto the tarred road toward the village. She hadn’t realized they were so far out of the town. It was a good fifteen minutes before dozens of commuters on their mopeds, and Tuk-tuks raced past her. The small village was already a flurry of chaos as the locals made their way to their workplaces. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, she drove slowly along the bustling road, inviting quite a couple of beeping motorists’ horns urging her to get out of their way. Though there were many stalls and supermarkets toward the center of the town, she concluded it would be safest to go back to the shop she bought the medical supplies from the night before. If she recalled it should be right around the next corner. It wasn’t long before she found it. Unlike the night before, there were crates of fresh fruit and vegetables displayed on the sidewalk in front of the door. She slipped the car into the vacant parking a short distance from the shop. Perhaps it was best to hide the car from plain sight.
The familiar chime of the doorbell announced her presence. To her surprise, the shop assistant from the night before was not there. In her stead was a much older male Alex estimated to be in his retirement years. Perhaps it was her father, and the thought crossed her mind if he had any idea of his daughter’s associations with protecting citizens.
A young couple stood in the corner deliberating over cold drinks in the fridge in front of them, but apart from them, the shop was empty. Alex moved across to the fridge next to the couple and grabbed two orange juices from the rack and then squeezed further down the tight isle to the opposite end. The shelf displayed an array of quick cook noodles. It will have to do, she thought. She grabbed four containers and carried it squashed against her chest on her forearm to the checkout. On the counter, a delicious aroma of freshly baked rolls in a basket filled the air, and she popped four into the brown paper bag that lay on the counter next to it. Satisfied with her breakfast selection, she left the shop and was back in the car heading toward their safe-house.
Until now she hadn’t been hungry at all, but the delicious scent of the fresh bread surged hunger pangs through her body. She reached over to the paper bag on the seat next to her and pulled out one of the rolls. Seconds later the bread roll went flying through the air as a hard knock hit the car from behind; jerking her head forward.
“What the hell?” She shouted at the black van visible in her rearview mirror. “Watch where you’re going you stupid buffoon!” She shouted throwing her arms in the air.
But it was no accident. Her words had barely been spoken, and the van rammed her again. Alex gripped the steering wheel and straightened into the seat. Her eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror as she stared at the two Asian men in the van behind her. Her foot pushed down harder on the accelerator, propelling her car forward. The road lay long and straight ahead of her. Several cars past her from the front going toward the village. She would reach the safe-house in about ten minutes. Even so, she can’t go there now with them following her. It would expose their hiding place, and Sam is in no condition to run on foot anywhere. She watched as the black van gained on her and rammed her again. This time hard enough to have her lose control of the car and swerve into the oncoming traffic, missing it by a margin before turning back into her lane.
“You asshole! You’re going to kill me!” She shouted as if the Asian men could hear. With the road up ahead clear from any oncoming cars the van gained speed and pulled up next to her. She gathered more speed in a futile attempt to outdrive them, but the minibus followed suit and rammed into her side. Her wheels slipped off the road and hit the gravel, grazing several low bearing shrubs in its path. Fear ripped through her body sending her pulse into a thudding irregular rhythm. She jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the breaks. The vehicle spun around twice and somehow landed back on the road facing the direction of the village.
In her rearview mirror, the black van slammed on its breaks to turn around. This was her chance to get away. Miraculously she shoved the gear into place and sped off toward the village; keeping her eyes pinned on the van that was still trying to make a u-turn behind her.
Her heart was beating out of control. Adrenaline soared through her veins as she pushed her foot flat on the accelerator to gain enough distance between them. It didn’t take her long to reach the village, and she turned down the now familiar street where her little supply shop was. The street was busy and forced her to slow down. The van was still not in sight. She recalled seeing another road turn up ahead but directly in front of her an elderly lady on her sidecar motorcycle took her sweet time.
“Oh come on! Move it!” She shouted sounding her horn to hurry her along.
The commuter was undeterred by Alex’s rudeness behind her and arrogantly stuck to her speed and lane. Alex jerked the car to the left and crossed lanes to overtake the woman, cutting her off as she came back into the right lane. Behind her the black van just turned into the road, crisscrossing past several cars in an attempt to gain on her.
The thought of being caught didn’t enter her mind as she fought through the heavy traffic. Alex pushed down on the pedal and almost hit another motorcycle family. She swerved onto the pavement to avoid the family, and collided with several hawkers’ trolleys. Colorful umbrellas and fruit pieces exploded into the air.
ALEX HUNT and The Golden Urn_An Archaeological Adventure Thriller Page 9