Lost Valley: The Hunted

by J. T. Cross

  “This is where she entered,” Luc said. Unstrapping the flashlight, he laid the shotgun on the ground and pulled out his survival knife.

  “Keep your eye out for any wolves. Just remember, don’t shoot into the brush.”

  With the flashlight in his left hand, and the survival knife in his right, he began working his way into the thick brush.

  The pollen and dust-laden vegetation made Luc sneeze as he pushed aside the scratchy branches and slowly worked his way into the brush, following the path Kate’s ATV had opened. About twenty feet into the brush he stepped into a drop off and grabbed the branches around him and pulled himself back.

  He shined the flashlight down into the area below him and saw four knobby tires pointing skyward. The quad must have flipped over when it had gone over the drop off, and she was probably pinned underneath it, he guessed. He hoped the brush had been dense enough to cushion her fall and help keep the quad’s full weight from bearing down on her.

  “Kate, can you hear me?” he called out.

  “I’m down here. I’m stuck under the quad. I can’t move.”

  “I’m coming. Hold on a little longer.”

  He started cutting his way through the dense brush with his survival knife and, bit by bit, worked his way down to her.

  The first thing he saw were her legs sticking out from under the quad which was being held up by a fair number of thick branches.

  He got down on his hands and knees and began cutting a branch that seemed to be holding her down with the serrated side of his knife. Over a period of several minutes he had cut all the branches directly around her.

  She tilted her head and stared at him. “It took you long enough to find me,” she said.

  “Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He relaxed a bit. “What in the world are you doing hiding down here, Ms. McGrew?”

  “What? Very funny, Luc…”

  “We call that rescue humor. It’s supposed to cheer you up.”

  “Just get me out of here.”

  He reached in and grabbed her ankles. ”When I pull, push with your hands and help me get you out.” In one smooth movement, Luc pulled her out from under the quad.

  Using his flashlight he looked her over, checking for any cuts or signs of blood. He then checked her arms and legs for any obvious broken bones. The relief began to flood through him when he found no signs of injury.

  “Do you think you can stand up?” he asked.

  “I think so. I feel fine. I don’t really hurt anywhere,” she said.

  “Good,” he said, helping her to her feet.

  “Did you kill that damn cat?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. I grazed it, and it ran off. That’s all I can—”

  The sound of Chuck’s shotgun being fired repeatedly shattered the silence.

  “Chuck must be in trouble. We need to get out of here,” Luc said. “Try to stay close behind me and keep the brush out of your eyes.”

  He began backtracking his way out of the tall brush, illuminating the path in front of them with his flashlight. He stopped dead in his tracks. Blocking the path was the largest wolf he had ever seen.

  The wolf, dirty and grizzled with dark, matted hair, lowered its head and bared its teeth. A low-pitched growl came from deep within its chest. It took a step toward Luc. He instinctively reached for his shotgun, and then in a panic, realized that he had laid it on the ground outside of the brush.

  To be concluded in

  Lost Valley

  Part Three: The Escape

  Kindle

  Also available from J.T. Cross:

  Beneath the Deep

  Chapter 1

  Megan O’Brien steadied herself on the deck of the forty-foot cabin cruiser, The Gypsy Queen, as she unbuckled and removed her diving tanks. She gently laid them at the side of the boat and picked up a towel.

  Looking for her dive partner, she made a quick 360-degree scan around the boat. She saw only choppy water and a small flock of seabirds in the distance. Matt had been right behind her. She didn’t like it when they got separated. Finally, she spotted him twenty feet off the starboard side, swimming slowly toward the boat.

  Relieved, she squeezed out her wet hair in the ocean breeze as she waited for him to bring up her archaeological finds.

  Far above, the faint undulating hum of a plane caught her attention. She laid down her towel and looked up, searching for the plane. This time, she couldn’t find it as low clouds had begun moving in. Once again, she got the feeling that something odd was going on with that plane, as it was the fifth time that day it had flown over them. The thought occurred to her that the plane must be running low on fuel.

  A large swell lifted the boat and she grabbed the back of a nearby seat to keep from falling. She glanced at her dive watch. It was 3:03 p.m. Thirty-five miles off the coast of Florida, it wasn’t unusual for the ocean to get rough at that time of the afternoon.

  She heard splashing sounds just before Matt Turner’s head peeked over the side and he lifted a net bag to her. “Here, take your trinkets.”

  She gave him a dirty look. “Where are the other two bags?” she asked as she took the heavy bag.

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh, yeah…they were too heavy for one trip.”

  “You forgot them.” She shook her head in disappointment and walked to the rear of the boat. Kneeling down, she loosened the top of the bag and pulled out several pieces of broken pottery. A sense of excitement filled her as she began examining them.

  “It would be a rarity to find them, especially here, but I think these could be Late Pleistocene ceramics,” she said as she turned over a small sherd in her hands.

  Matt climbed up onto the boat. “Ha, I think they’re from the teapot I threw overboard when I was out here fishing a couple of years ago.”

  “Very funny.” She cast him another dirty look and went back to examining the pottery sherds.

  Matt took off his diving gear, grabbed her towel, and began to dry off.

  She looked up at him. “Hey, that’s my towel. Use your own.”

  He grinned at her. “You know, you need to relax. You also need to come up with more than some broken pottery if we’re going to make any money off this site.”

  “I didn’t go into archaeology to get rich.” She turned away from him and continued picking through the pieces.

  “Bits of pottery aren’t gonna put diesel in the tanks or food on the table.”

  “Hey, there it is again,” she said standing and pointing up at the sky.

  “There what is again?”

  “The plane I told you about.”

  * * *

  Matt watched Megan standing there in her blue bathing suit, her long red hair whipping in the brisk ocean breeze as she gazed up at the plane with her startling green eyes. She had the most attractive and athletic body of any woman he had ever known.

  Momentary frustration rose at the thought that, so far, she had flatly rejected all of his romantic advances. He ran his hands through his curly blond hair. She’d come around.

  He watched her twirl her hair with her finger. He knew her well enough to know that she only did that when something was bothering her. “Why are you so interested in that plane?” He waited for her response as he listened to the sound of the wind and the ocean waves lapping at the sides of the boat.

  “Just curious. It’s been going around in circles for hours.”

  “No law against it.”

  “No, but it doesn’t make much sense either. I think they’re searching for something.”

  “No doubt, considering how many valuable artifacts are out here,” he said sarcastically.

  Raising her eyebrows, she glanced across the deck at him. “Just the ruins of an ancient city, if my theory is correct.”

  He stared at her, feeling his frustration rise. She just didn’t get it. “We’ve talked about this before. No intact artifacts, no money.”<
br />
  She turned away. “There’s more to life than money.” She adjusted her bathing suit, sat down, and stretched out her long muscular legs, resting her feet against the side of the boat. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I’m bushed.”

  He decided he wanted to get back to the marina as soon as possible. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll go down and get your other sample bags while you rest.”

  She glared at him. “We go down together or not at all.” A moment later, her expression changed to one of sadness.

  He immediately realized he shouldn’t have suggested that, not after what had happened to her husband a year earlier.

  She took her feet off the edge of the boat, scooted back in her seat, and sat upright. “Tommy thought it would be okay to go down alone and I didn’t stop him. We both know what happened.”

  He raised his shoulders and put his hands up. “All right, we’ll do it your way…you okay?”

  She looked out over the water. “I’m good,” she said softly.

  “We’ll go back down together,” he said.

  “It’s back,” she said, pointing off the rear port side of the boat.

  It took him a couple of seconds to spot the plane. It was about a half mile away, several hundred feet over the water, and heading toward them. It continued to lose altitude as they watched in silence.

  She stood. “It’s coming right at us.”

  That got his attention. He stood and moved next to her. He estimated the plane was now no more than thirty feet off the water. “What the hell’s the pilot doing?”

  The plane continued to descend and then banked to their left, correcting its course so it would pass just to the right of their boat. The wheels, attached to a rigid landing gear, were now only feet above the water.

  “That pilot better pull up,” she said loudly.

  The small plane’s engine suddenly quit, dashing all hope for that. For several seconds, it continued gliding silently, mere feet above the water, before the nose tilted upward, and the plane stalled. A second later, its nose fell and its front wheel dug into the crest of a small swell.

  Matt winced as the plane flipped forward and cartwheeled. Time seemed to stretch out as the wings and tail were torn off and the sound of metal being hammered and ripped filled the air.

  Megan gasped as the plane finally came to rest, leaving only the fuselage and pieces of the broken wings floating on the choppy ocean.

  Chapter 2

  Megan’s heart pounded and her stomach clenched as she stared at the pieces of wreckage. She had never witnessed a plane crash and was unprepared for the violent destruction of the small craft. She turned to Matt. “We have to do something.”

  He didn’t respond but kept gazing at the wreckage with his mouth open, slowly shaking his head. He turned and looked at her. “Ouch, that’s gotta hurt,” he mumbled.

  Frowning, she wondered if he ever took anything seriously. She looked back at the plane and saw movement in the cockpit. “I think the pilot’s alive.”

  Matt went to the front of the boat and started the engines. He glanced back at her. “I’m going to pull closer to the plane. Maybe we can fish out the pilot.” He pushed the switch to raise the anchor.

  She heard the sound of the lugging windlass motor as it reeled in the anchor, and then looked back at the plane. It was riding lower in the water than it had just moments before.

  She climbed up on the side of the boat and yelled, “There’s no time for that. It’s sinking!” She took a deep breath and dove off the side.

  The cold water was a shock to her warm body as she glided just below the surface in the direction of the plane. She felt herself slowing, came to the surface, and began swimming hard toward the front of the fuselage. A strong swimmer, she reached the cockpit in less than a minute. She glanced back at The Gypsy Queen. Matt was still bringing up the anchor.

  She turned and looked into the cockpit window. Inside, a white-haired man held his head as water rushed in around him. Seeing that the water was already up to his waist, she knew she didn’t have much time to get him out.

  She looked down through the water along the outside of the door and saw a handle. Grabbing it, she pushed it down and pulled. The door refused to open and she only succeeded in pulling herself closer to the sinking plane.

  She repositioned herself in the water, putting both feet against the side of the fuselage, and pulled again. This time, she had more leverage and felt the door open, slowly at first, then more easily as water rushed into the cockpit. She pushed it back and out of the way.

  Grabbing the man by the arm, she tried to pull him out without success and immediately realized his seatbelt must still be engaged. “Unfasten your seatbelt!”

  He looked at her with glazed eyes. “What?”

  She took a couple of deep breaths, ducked under the water, and pulled herself into the cockpit. She searched for the seatbelt clasp, working her way around his waist until she found and released it.

  She pushed herself back out of the cabin, grabbed his arm, and began to pull. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  To her surprise, he resisted, turned away from her, and reached around to his right to grab a floating yellow case.

  He pushed the case in her direction. “Save this. It’s the most important thing,” he said in a strained, gravelly voice.

  Megan pushed the case back. “I’ve got to get you out first. Your plane is sinking.” She grabbed the man’s arm and tried again to pull him out of the cockpit.

  The old man pushed the yellow case back in her face. “No, first, save my data!”

  She angrily grabbed the case, pulled it out of his hands, and shoved it out onto the water.

  She turned her attention back to the man in the cockpit. Once again, she found him reaching for something. “Is anyone else on board?” she asked.

  “No, I’m alone. My pills!” he said in a stilted voice.

  “Are you crazy? I need to get you out,” she said forcefully. She grabbed him by the front of the shirt and roughly pulled him out of the cockpit.

  As she held onto him, she treaded water to keep them on the surface while she looked at him more closely. He appeared to be in pain.

  Inches away from her head, a life preserver suddenly splashed into the water. Matt had pulled the boat alongside and thrown the preserver, which was attached to a rope. She grabbed it and shoved it into the old man’s arms. “Hold onto this,” she said.

  Matt immediately began pulling the man toward the boat. He looked back at her with a panicked expression. “It’s my heart. My bottle of nitro pills. It’s still on the plane.”

  Now she understood his concern about his pills. She turned back to the fuselage, just as the tail disappeared below the surface. She took several deep breaths and dove straight down, struggling to catch up to the sinking wreckage. When it was within reach, she grabbed the top of the cabin and pulled herself inside.

  Beginning to feel a little out of breath, she quickly looked around but saw nothing, then glanced up and caught sight of a small bottle floating up against the headliner. She grabbed it, stuck it in her bathing suit top and pulled herself back out of the cabin. She needed air.

  She pushed off against the fuselage and began swimming toward the surface. She was surprised, and then alarmed, as she realized just how deep the sinking plane had taken her.

  She pushed herself upward with hard kicks and wide swipes of her arms. Above her, she could see the outline of The Gypsy Queen, and not far from it, the man. She really needed air. Just as she felt as if her lungs might burst, she broke through the surface and began taking in deep breaths of fresh air.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around to get her bearings. She saw Matt tugging at the man’s shirt, trying to help him climb up the ladder that hung over the side of the boat.

  She swam over to them and looked into the old man’s half-closed eyes. “How are you doing?”

  “I can’t climb the
ladder,” he said as he gasped for breath.

  For a moment, she wondered if she could help push the man up the ladder. No, she was going to have to get in the boat and help Matt pull him up.

  “Just hang onto the ladder,” she said and climbed up into the boat.

  Standing next to Matt, she reached over and grabbed one of the man’s wrists as Matt took the other. Together, they slowly pulled him up the side, over the edge, and into the boat where he collapsed onto the deck.

  She got on her knees next to him. “How are you doing?”

  He looked up. “Did you find my pills?”

  “Yes,” she said, reaching into her bathing suit and withdrawing the small bottle. She opened it. “How many do you need?”

  “Two.” He reached up, opening his hand.

  She shook out two of the small pills and carefully placed them in his hand. She watched him put the pills under his tongue and then lay his head back down. He stared up blankly, as if waiting for something.

  “Ah…” he said a few moments later. “They’re helping, but I still need to go to the hospital.”

  Matt bent over them. “Why don’t you get a seat cushion for his head, Megan? It’s going to be bumpy on the way in.”

  “No!” the old man said in a panicked tone as he tried to raise himself up. “We can’t leave without my equipment. Please…”

  Megan’s eyes went wide as she remembered she hadn’t retrieved the man’s case. She got to her feet and looked back out over the water. She spotted the yellow case bobbing up and down, just thirty feet off the starboard side and was surprised to see it was still floating.

  “Pull the boat next to it and I’ll grab it,” she said to Matt and then walked to the bow and pulled a grappling hook from its holder.

  The diesel engines revved as the boat began to move. She kept her eye on the case as Matt pulled the boat beside it. Reaching out with the long pole, she snagged the yellow case by its handle and pulled it aboard.

  She laid the case and pole down on the deck and went back to the old man. “Your equipment is safe.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get you back to the coast as fast as possible. You’re going to be okay,” she said.