Loose ends r-1

by Greg Cox

  The twisting stalagmite was denser than the inverted icicle it resembled, but she eventually succeeded in snapping off the top six inches or so. She dropped to her knees next to the briefcase and pounded its shiny bronze clasp with the wide end of her improvised hammer. Every noisy blow made her wince and look about her nervously, afraid that the clamor had alerted Morton to her whereabouts, but, after about half a dozen savage strikes, the clasp broke apart and she yanked open the lid.

  Inside, the salvaged Crash materials were just as she'd last seen them, back at room #19. Grateful for their amazing properties, she wadded up the mysterious silver foil into an easy-to-carry ball, which she placed in the pocket of her jeans, along with fragments of that strange tan plastic. Then she hid the looted attache case in a crevice in the wall, so that it would not inform Morton that she had passed this way. Fortunately, the case's stylish black-leather appearance rendered it virtually invisible in the obsidian darkness of the cave.

  That's better, she thought, hefting the stalagmite tip like a dagger. It wasn't much compared to Morton's semiautomatic, but it was something. At this point, anything that made her feel less like a defenseless victim was of incalculable value.

  Now the question was, stay where she was or keep moving? Listening again for Mortons menacing voice or footsteps, while keeping a close look out for even a flicker of light from his flashlight, she thought she heard a slow, steady dripping coming from the far end of the grotto. She licked her dry, dehydrated lips, suddenly realizing just how thirsty and hungry she was. Stepping cautiously between the scattered stalagmites, taking care not to hurry beyond the radiance of the silver handprint, she made her way across the chamber until the eerie glow was reflected by drops of clear water, falling beat by beat, from some unseen stalactite high overhead.

  The muddy floor, coated with wet bat dung, got more and more slippery as she neared the dribbling water. Cupping her hands, she caught the falling droplets and lifted them to her lips. The captured liquid had a funny taste, like mineral water, but was refreshing nevertheless. In time, she realized, thinking like the scientist she wanted to be, the calcium in the water would gradually build a new stalagmite or column, right where she was standing now. Liz hoped to be long gone before then.

  Distracted by her successful quest for water, she was caught by surprise when a harsh white spotlight illuminated her from behind, throwing her distorted shadow onto the floor of the cavern. She spun around in a panic, almost slipping on the slimy rock beneath her feet, to see Joe Morton standing in an open archway not far from where she first entered the bat cave. His flashlight shone in her face, forcing her to shield her eyes with her hand. Morton himself was visible only as a looming black presence behind the blinding glare. "Don't move a muscle, freak!"he growled, then chuckled cruelly. "Bet you thought I'd given up!"Not really, Liz thought, searching futilely for some way out. She felt exposed and vulnerable, like an escaping convict caught by the watchful eye of a prison searchlight. Many feet above her, the bats, perhaps disturbed by Morton's bright light or bellowing voice, rustled and screeched unhappily.

  Inspiration struck, and the imperiled teenager hurled the pointy stalagmite tip at the ceiling, while simultaneously throwing herself onto the slimy floor. Not surprisingly, Morton fired his pistol, the explosion sounding like the big bang itself in the vaulted underground chamber.

  Facedown in the muck, Iiz couldn't tell whether it was her calcite missile or the answering gunshot that most upset the bats, but the net result was the same: Hundreds of Mexican free-tail bats abandoned their roosts and began flapping madly for the quickest route out of the grotto- which just happened to be the wide-open archway where Morton was standing. The gunman screamed in fear and agony, his horrified cry almost lost amid a chorus of high-pitched squeaks and the frantic flapping of hundreds of leathery wings. The beam from his flashlight zigzagged wildly over the uncaring walls of the cavern as he flailed hopelessly at the unstoppable deluge of bats.

  Iiz scrambled to her feet and dashed in the opposite direction. The ground sloped steeply ahead of her and she ran downhill, following a trickle of water that she prayed led to another exit. The deafening sound of the bats' mass exodus had only just begun to lessen in volume when she gratefully spotted a gap in the wall ahead. She plunged into the shadowy void, even knowing that her downward trajectory was only taking her farther away from the surface, away from the sun.

  Behind her, Morton howled in pain and fury. "I'll kill you, you witch! I'll shoot you full of lead!"Won't be the first time, Liz thought.

  27.

  following the directions Isabel had lifted from Lieutenant Ramirez's mind only seconds before his death, Max and his comrades soon found Ramirez's car, a snazzy, metallic-purple Porsche, parked alongside an isolated dirt road in the foothills of the Guadalupe Mountains, less than five miles from where yellow crime scene tape fenced in the area surrounding Morton's abandoned blue Chevy. Driving just below the speed limit, so as not to invite the attention of the police, the Jeep and the Jetta had hurried past the site of Okada's murder, resisting any temptation to rubberneck.

  Now Max hit the brakes next to Ramirez's Porsche, then jumped out of the driver's seat onto the rocky ground. "Is this it?" he asked Isabel fervidly. "Is this the place?"His sister looked around, peering over the top of her mirrored sunglasses. "Yes," she confirmed promptly. Climbing down from the Jeep, she pointed toward a craggy ridge about a mile and a half away. "That's where he went. The cave is up there."That was all he needed to hear. Without waiting for Michael and the rest, currently parking the Jetta behind the Porsche, Max sprinted across the arid soil into the hills. The more he ran, dodging cacti, boulders, and ditches, the less need he felt for any directions at all. He could sense Liz's presence-and her danger. "Hang on, Liz!" he whispered, his pounding legs propelling him up a steep mountain trail, while the blazing sun beat down on him, causing the rugged, reddish-brown landscape to ripple before his eyes like a mirage. "I'm coming!"Max! Wait!" Isabel shouted behind him, her voice already sounding faint and distant. He heard the others chasing after him, with not only his worried sister yelling at him to let them catch up with him.

  "Wait up, Max!" Michael called. "Don't do this alone!"But Max couldn't stop. He couldn't even slow down. He had hesitated before, back in Morton's motel room, and Liz was now paying the price. I can't fail her again, he thought, stricken with remorse. The closer he got to the ridge, the more he could feel Liz's fear and despair, calling out to him via the special bond they shared. Time was running out, he understood, and Liz needed his help. He had to get there in time.

  He knew that Michael was worried about him facing Morton alone, afraid that he might do something he would regret later, but Max no longer feared losing control. His overpowering, post-traumatic hatred of the homicidal gunman had been superseded by an even more compelling emotion: concern for Liz's safety. He had his priorities straight at last, and protecting Liz took precedence over any burning desire for revenge. If he had to kill Morton to save Liz, then that's what he would do, but with a cool head, his actions determined by the circumstances, not by stormy emotions beyond his control. This is about Liz now, he affirmed. That's all that matters.

  His legs were aching by the time he crested the ridge, where he found the cave entrance just as Isabel had described it: an open mouth in the inhospitable hillside, partially concealed by an overhanging shelf of rock. He could see why it appealed to Morton as a hideaway. Thank goodness Isabel had "inside" sources of information! He was about to enter the cave when a thunderous rumbling, surging up from deep within the Earth, warned him to leap to one side, only seconds before an explosion of bats erupted from the mouth of the cavern, flapping madly into the daylight. Confused and disoriented, hundreds of bats spiraled upward like a leathery tornado before winging into the hills in search of safer roosts elsewhere.

  Max blinked in confusion. He had no idea what would cause the bats to abandon the cave in droves, hours before sunset, but he knew it had
to do with Morton and Liz. This can't be good, he thought, wondering briefly whether Michael and the rest had seen the swirling cloud of bats as well. Perhaps one of them would know what it meant.

  Ducking his head to avoid smacking it on the top of the gate, he rushed into the cave. Psychic energy crackled around his fingertips, ready to attack or to defend, but all he saw right away was Ramirez's lifeless body, lying at the center of a pool of congealed blood. Glazed brown eyes, now forever beyond fear of blackmail and extortion, stared blindly at the ceiling, while a disguised wire hanger and a torn silver shower cap, both completely worthless, rested on the cavern floor only inches away.

  Max wasted little time contemplating the lieutenants corpse, instead searching the dimly-lit cave for clues as to the whereabouts of liz and her abductor. He had no flashlight, but he didn't need one; with a moment's concentration, a silvery halo radiated from his hand, lighting up the area around him. His eyes swiftly spotted footprints in the dust, leading farther into the cave. The smaller prints he recognized as Liz's, while a series of larger bootprints indicated that Morton had gone deeper into the cavern as well.

  "Liz!" he called into the shadowy throat of the cave. "It's Max! Can you hear me?"No one answered, leading him to wonder how far Liz and Morton had descended into the unexplored depths ahead. She's down there somewhere, he knew, convinced by both the footprints and his own undeniable sense that the girl he loved was nearby. He didn't know why the kidnapper and his victim had chosen to disappear into the lower regions of the cave, but he knew without hesitation that he had to follow them.

  "Max! Where are you? Wait!" Michael's voice invaded the primitive confines of Morton's hideout. Max heard his best friend, who had obviously taken the lead among the others, scrabble up the gravelly ridge outside. "Hang on, Max! Wait for me! I'm right behind you!"Sorry, Michael, Max thought. No time, liz needs me now.

  Like an alien Orpheus, braving the underworld in search of his Eurydice, he charged into the waiting darkness, using his gleaming hand as a torch to light the way.

  "I'm coming, Liz! I'm coming!"

  28.

  The deeper she descended, the colder it got. Liz knew from her goose bumps and trembling arms that she must be several hundred feet beneath the surface. She was lost as well, not at all certain that she could ever find her way back uptop, even if she wasn't being hunted by a crazed, gun-wielding killer.

  She could hear Morton rampaging down the sloping passages behind her, perhaps following her oozing footprints through the bewildering network of tunnels. She had hoped that her trick with the bats would have discouraged him for good, but instead it only seemed to have made him even more insanely driven to kill her and regain his merchandise. "Run, you alien slut! Run while you can!" he bellowed, completely out of his mind. "You can't get away!"The beam of his flashlight nipped at her heels, and Liz constantly had to shift directions to avoid giving him a clear line of fire. She darted left, right, then left again, taking any turn offered by this never-ending limestone labyrinth. I really have become a mouse in a maze, she realized, remembering what she had written in her journal many hours ago. According to her watch, it was almost five p.m., which meant that Morton had been chasing her through the uncharted caverns for at least an hour and forty-five minutes. How much longer can I keep this up? she thought, exhausted and scared. Or do I have to keep on running through these endless catacombs forever? Max's palm print blazed upon her bare stomach, its phosphorescent radiance warning her right before she ran over the edge of a dangerous subterranean cliff. Yikes, Liz thought. That was close. No helpful guardrails protected travelers from the sudden drop-off, whose ultimate depth Iiz couldn't even begin to guess. The yawning abyss stretched before her farther than her meager light could penetrate. Looking both left and right, Iiz was dismayed to discover that the only way remaining to her appeared to be a narrow ledge running along the length of the chasm, at the base of a towering wall of petrified limestone draperies. The ledge was maybe a foot wide at best, making it extremely risky to venture out onto.

  She looked back quickly over her shoulder, hoping she could still backtrack to a more promising escape route. In horror, she saw instead the darting beam of Morton's flashlight. He was only minutes behind her! There was no time to look for another path, nowhere else to go. Swallowing hard, her back pressed tightly against the overlapping limestone drapes, Liz eased onto the ledge, trying with all her might not to look down. The darkness concealing the height of the chasm was a blessing, sparing her from vertigo, as, facing the abyss, she inched along the ledge, the tips of her sneakers actually extending an inch past the brink of the precipice. She felt like some silent-movie comedian climbing around outside the top windows of a twenty-story skyscraper, except that there was nothing at all humorous about her dire situation. Don't look down, she warned herself. Short, fearful breaths misted before her lips in the chilly subterranean atmosphere. Even if you can't see anything, don't look down! Mortons cowboy boots pounded the floor of an adjacent tunnel. "I'm getting closer!" he threatened loudly. He sounded practically just around the corner. "I can smell your fear, you glowing freak!"Liz looked down at her luminous belly, wondering if she dared cover her only available source of light. I guess it's too much to hope for, she thought bleakly, that Morton will accidently fall over the edge of the cliff. Alas, the batteries in his flashlight still seemed to have plenty of juice in them.

  Creeping sideways along the narrow sftelf, with Morton closing in and no place else to go, she experienced a brief surge of hope as the ledge eventually widened beneath her feet, so that she could actually face forward witnout toppling over the brink, thus allowing her to flee faster and less gingerly. Her relief was short-lived, however, when she abruptly ran into a dead end straight ahead.

  "Oh my God," she whispered. Her precarious trek along the ledge had led her only to a couch-sized limestone balcony overlooking the bottomless crevasse. Walls of solid rock blocked her path on her left and to the front, while the deadly precipice dropped away on her right. She was trapped, with no way out except the way she came. What do I do now? she despaired. I've run out ojcavel "Liz!"The unmapped caverns were a labyrinthine network of detours and false trails. In theory, it should have been impossible to track a missing person through all these convoluted tunnels, yet Max intuitively sensed that he was on the right course. He could feel Liz's presence in the dank catacombs, the very molecules of the air seemed to vibrate with the lingering reverberations of her recent passage. He knew that she had tread the exact same path he was taking now, and not very long ago.

  He also knew that she was in terrible danger. The silver nimbus around his left hand, the same hand that had once brought Liz back from the verge of death, flared brighter than it ever had before, as if urging him onward to ever greater speed. Through some sort of subliminal psychic link, he felt her raw terror and hopeless desperation as though they were his own. At least she's still alive, he thought emphatically, hanging onto that conviction as he descended deeper and deeper into the underworld. But for how long? A bullet hole defacing the wall of one limestone corridor proved that he was following in his quarry's footsteps, as well as confirming that Joe Morton was indeed armed and dangerous. Max gulped apprehensively, but did not slow his pursuit of the vicious killer and his captive. Squeezing through an unnervingly tight fissure in the Earth, he entered a sizable grotto that reeked like an animal's lair. His lambent hand illuminated an empty chamber whose floor was literally carpeted in excrement. This must be where all those bats came from, he realized. Glancing up, he saw that a handful of winged mammals, perhaps less excitable than their fellows, still hung upside-down from the ceiling. As before, he couldn't help wondering-and worrying-what had frightened all those other bats.

  Morton's gunshots? Hurrying across the grotto, he found disturbing evidence of recent violence. Fresh bloodstains mingled with the accumulated bat dung, leading across the sludgy floor to a darkly opaque exit at the bottom of a slippery slope. Did the crimson
stains come from Liz, he wondered, or from Morton? The sight of small, muddy footprints, proceeding rapidly away from the bat cave gave him renewed hope that Liz was still unharmed. Even better, the trail of bloodstains seemed to accompany Mortons larger bootprints more than they did Liz's much more petite tracks. Had Liz somehow managed to injure Morton? Good for you, Max thought.

  The spilled blood, along with the dual sets of footprints, left no doubt as to which way to go. With his incandescent hand held aloft, he followed the clues that Morton and Liz had inadvertently left for him, which led farther downward, deep into die bowels of a planet he didn't even belong on.

  He could no longer hear Michael and the rest behind him. Lacking his special connection to Liz, they must have been slowed or stymied by the cavern's many twists and turns. Fine, he decided. He would deal with Morton alone, one way or another.

  "Liz!" he shouted again, throwing caution to the wind. He knew he was sacrificing the element of surprise, but that couldn't be helped; he had to let Liz know that she wasn't alone in this hellish underworld. "Hang on, Liz!" he cried, his feet racing over the trail of drying blood and muck. "Don't give up! I'm almost there!" The light from his hand was almost blinding.

  Cornered! Unable to run any farther, backed against the wall, with solid rock on one side of her and a gaping chasm on the other, Liz held her breath as she heard Joe Morton's relentless footsteps drawing nearer. Now she cowered in total blackness, having done what she could to hide the shining fingers emblazoned on her flesh. In her heart, however^ she knew that the darkness alone wouldn't be enough.

  Indeed, only minutes later, a shaft of light pierced the absolute blackness, advancing to the very brink of the precipice-and beyond. "Whoa!" Morton exclaimed, taken aback by the sight of the yawning crevasse. "That step's a doozy!" He stomped up to the edge of the underground cliff, then swept the surrounding area with his flashlight.