The quaking increased, tossing them over the ground. Larger rocks broke from the walls and ceiling and thundered to the dirt. An eerie thwack that sounded like the snap of a thousand whips sent a rod of steal down James’s spine. A crack etched through the rock wall on their left as if an invisible hand drew a chaotic design. Frozen in place, James watched as water trickled from the cleft, slow at first like a lazy stream, then faster and faster until it gushed from the ever-widening fissure. Chunks of rock broke from the wall in the torrent that now surged into the room, cascading onto the floor, splattering mud into the air.
“What’s happening?” Magnolia yelled.
Dodd leapt onto the boulder beside Patrick, but the man shoved him down, the first hint of fear appearing on his face. The pirates stopped their work.
“Why isn’t it working?” Blake shouted. Eliza stood firm beside him. Hayden, Magnolia trembling in his arms, inched back toward the entrance.
The ground canted. Balancing himself, James shook his head. “I don’t know! This is all the book said to do. Besides something about a prince.”
“A prince?” Angeline stared down at the water swarming around her shoes. “What prince?”
“There was a story in the book about a prince who came to rescue his people, but his name was never mentioned.” James had gone over it several times, praying for help with the interpretation, praying he hadn’t missed something.
The water soon flooded the chamber floor and began to rise. “Hurry!” Patrick shouted at the pirates. “Fill the sacks, take the gold above and come back for more!” Snatching a pack of gold from one of the pirates, he sloshed through the water and disappeared through the entrance, only to return within seconds for another. The pirates followed suit. Dodd knelt to fill his own sack, water gushing around his knees.
James squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps in all the mayhem no one would say the Latin phrase now, but they still needed to imprison the other three beasts. Terror like he’d never known drained the blood from his heart. Not terror of drowning or being buried alive, but terror of failing. Failing God, failing his friends. Hot water, brown with dirt, licked his ankles, seeped into his boots.
The ground tilted. Water sloshed left, then right, shoving them into the filthy mire. Shaking sludge from his hands, James rose and helped Angeline. Mud splattered her arms and neck and slid down her gown. She lifted her eyes to his, and for the first time he saw her confidence waning. God help me. What do I do? James had no idea. Panic fired idea after idea into his mind. None of them sticking. None of them making sense.
Patrick, Dodd, and the pirates continued to fill their sacks and carry them above. Instead of pouring out in a stream, the gold now only trickled from the holes with each leap of the ground. One of the pirates tried to pry loose another rock lower in the wall.
That’s when the snakes appeared, dozens of them slithering through the muck. Magnolia screamed and leapt into Hayden’s arms. Eliza scrambled to stand atop a boulder. Angeline buried her head in James’s shirt. Reaching through the water, Dodd grabbed one of Ricu’s swords and began hacking the reptiles. But still the snakes slithered around their trousers, around the women’s skirts, slinking between their legs. One of the pirates leapt atop a pile of rocks and shot his pistol into the water.
“Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”
The scripture blared in James’s mind. “They can’t hurt us. They aren’t real!” he yelled as a jolt sent both water and snakes to the left, splashing against the wall, only to return and flood them once again. One of the slithering beasts coiled around James’s leg. It sure feels real! God, please help! Terror choked him. He kicked the snake off. And the next one. And the next. His friends did the same.
The snakes were harmless, just as God had said. Another tremor struck. James caught his balance and steadied Angeline. Hayden lowered Magnolia to the water as the reptiles disappeared.
Eliza grabbed her wet skirts and waded toward James. Stark golden eyes met his. “The prince who rescued his people!” she shouted, kicking one of the remaining snakes away. The ground tilted, sending her tumbling back. Blake caught her and held fast. “The prince who rescued his people!” she repeated with more exuberance, nodding at James as if he knew the answer.
The answer Magnolia must have also just realized as she lifted wide eyes to James. “Of course!”
Angeline gripped James’s arm. “You know. The prince who rescued his people!”
James’s thoughts were as muddied as the water now clawing his knees, splashing on boulders and up the sides of the chamber. His dream of the blood ship played in his mind. He and his friends had linked arm in arm as the ship approached the darkness. But it wasn’t completely dark. There had been the figure of light at the bow. The lion-lamb. The Lion-Lamb! The name lit the shadows of his mind like a flame in a dark tunnel. With a nod, they all joined arms again. James cleared his throat and shouted at the top of his lungs: “We command you to return to your chains in the name of Jesus!”
“In the name of Jesus,” Angeline repeated, and each of them followed, ending with Blake who shouted, “In Jesus’ name!” with vehemence.
Patrick faced them, gold coins spilling from his arms while laughter spilled from his lips. But his chuckle was soon muffled by a thunderous growl that sounded like a mortally wounded animal. A very large animal. A very angry animal. The force of it shoved James and his friends backward into the hot muck.
Water ceased pouring from the wall. The roar silenced. The ground became still. Chains in the empty alcove lifted in the air around the pole that stretched from top to bottom. The sound of rattling metal echoed through the chamber as the irons shook and trembled with such violence, it seemed they would burst. Then as if by invisible hands, the lock looped around the thick clasp and clanked shut.
No one uttered a word. Only the sound of breathing and the drip, drop of water filled the cave. All gazes remained on the lock. The third beast was imprisoned again. And James had no doubt the first two had also returned to their chains in the room above.
They had defeated the four demonic generals!
With God’s help. In the name of His Son.
James glanced at his friends, all bloody, bruised, muddy, and sweaty. And they all began to laugh, to cry, to praise God!
Patrick, Dodd, and the pirates stood, mud dripping from their shirts, disbelief dripping from their expressions.
A snapping sound drew James’s gaze to the chasm where the water had poured forth. The crack widened and jetted upward then spiked across the ceiling like lightning, etching a rut that grew larger with each turn and twist. Rocks chipped off walls and stalactites fell into the receding water. The earth jolted and the crevice expanded, arching down the opposite wall and jutting across the muddy ground. The floor split open. The remaining water poured down. Steam shot into the air.
“The room is collapsing!” Hayden shouted.
“Get out! Get out!” Blake yelled, holding his side and grabbing his wife.
They hurried back through the hole. Dodd brought up the rear, carrying two sacks of gold. Once back in the first chamber, James glanced at the alcoves. Chains hung suspended in air, locked tight. He smiled, longing to shout at the beasts, to tell them they could no longer hurt the colonists—that they couldn’t send visions and nightmares and floods and snakes. But there was no time for gloating. The earth still shook like a carriage on hilly terrain as the walls around them crumbled.
Drawing Angeline near, James scanned the group, bouncing and jostling in his vision. “Where’s Patrick?” he yelled. The celling of the first chamber began to crack. Halting, Hayden glanced back toward the opening. “Go ahead! I’ll get him!” He started limping toward the lower chamber. James handed Angeline to her friends and insisted—against their protests—that they keep moving. Then turning, he followed Hayden. He wouldn’t let his friend deal with Patrick alone. Or risk
getting killed by staying too long.
“Father, please! Come with us!” Hayden shouted as he ducked to avoid falling rocks. “You’ll be buried alive.”
“Go on without me!” The imperious man pulled another empty sack from the pile, knelt at the base of the rock wall, and scooped gold into it.
The water was gone, replaced by a sea of mud sliding across the chamber with each leap of the earth. Some fell into the steamy fissure that grew wider with each passing minute. Balancing on the trembling ground, Patrick wiped a sleeve over his forehead and yanked a rather large goblet from the pile.
Perhaps they could hit him over the head with one of them and drag him above. But James doubted they had time. He must ensure the others made it safely to the surface. Yet how could they leave Patrick here? Hayden started for his father when a jet of steam shot from the crevice, forcing him back.
“Go on, Hayden…I’ll be along.” Patrick grinned. “And richer than you ever imagined.”
The room split. Pebbles showered them from above. The rock wall shielding the gold shifted. Some of the rocks tumbled from the top into the mud beside Patrick. Another tremor struck. The wall teetered like a heap of pudding. Patrick gazed up in fear, started to leave, but it was too late. Raising his arms to cover his head, he crouched as an avalanche of rocks struck his shoulders and back and piled around his feet. Momentarily stunned, Patrick shook his head and raised his gaze as gold—finally freed from its barricade—showered over him. Ignoring the gashes on his arms and shoulders, he grabbed handfuls of the treasure and flung it in the air, laughing.
The chasm widened. Steam spit in his face. He screamed and fell backward. The ground opened up. Rocks and gold slid into the opening. Terror pinching his face, Patrick tried to move away from the growing fissure, but the weight of the rocks and gold surrounding his feet and legs kept him in place. Coins slid into the crevice as the mouth opened wider and wider, gobbling up the chamber.
“Father!” Hayden shouted, agony spiking his voice.
In that split second between time and eternity when life hangs between the living and the dead…Patrick’s gaze met Hayden’s. And for the first time since James had known them, a thread of affection spilled from father to son.
Hayden saw it too. He dashed toward his father.
But the ground widened, and the man slid into the steaming fissure, along with all his gold. His scream silenced within seconds.
Heat seared them as Hayden stood staring at flames leaping from the opening. No. Not flames anymore, but molten lava bubbling over the edge.
Clutching Hayden’s arm, James hauled him back into the chamber above, angry when he saw his friends had waited. “Go!” he shouted. Magnolia grabbed her husband, and the two darted forward.
Elation, terror, and heartache battled in James’s chest as he clutched Angeline to his side and followed the others through the tunnels. Was it his imagination or was the passageway narrowing with each step? Heat pursued them—heat that could turn them to ash in seconds. Heat and the roar of a mighty fire. He didn’t look back. Didn’t want to see what he assumed was a sea of flames chasing them up the shaft.
Ahead, Blake assisted the others through the final hole back into the temple. Turning, he reached down for Angeline and James. The ground trembled. The entrance crumbled, filling with dirt and stones. Heat scorched James’s back. Angeline struggled through the opening. The bottoms of her muddy, seared shoes were the last thing he saw as the hole narrowed even more. He thrust his arm through, and Blake hauled him up. Rocks scored his skin.
A tremor struck the temple. Debris rained down on them. Something sharp speared James’s shoulder. Pain radiated across his neck. The temple columns began to quiver like noodles. Water sloshed out of the steamy pond. The moon and stars dislodged from the wall above the altar and clanged to the ground.
“The temple’s collapsing!” Hayden yelled as they all darted for the front.
“Where’s Dodd?” Angeline shouted.
James glanced back toward the tunnel entrance. The opening was barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
“Get out!” He nudged her forward, grabbed a shovel one of the pirates must have left and dug around the entry. Steam poured from the shrinking hole. A mighty roar sounded. Dust erupted from the opening. The tunnels must have collapsed. No one could survive that. Hand covering his mouth and nose, James turned to leave, but Angeline darted past him. “There he is!”
A flash of light hair appeared among the rubble. Dodd’s face, barely recognizable beneath the mud and blood, gazed up at them. “Help me!”
“Give me your hand!”
A sack of gold appeared instead. Disgusted, James shoved it back. “Your hand, man. Your hand!”
“Take the gold first.” He breathed out. “I can’t lift it.”
“Leave it! Leave it, or you’ll die.”
Dodd closed his eyes. The entrance toppled in on him. Dirt and rocks filled the space where he’d just been. Dust filled the air.
Angeline coughed and batted it aside. “No!”
A hand burst through the rubble.
James grabbed it. Angeline clawed away the dirt. Groaning, James tugged with all his might. Dodd’s shoulder appeared.
The ground shook. Temple walls cracked. The dirt loosened, and Dodd’s other hand punched through the debris. Bracing her shoes on the wall around the entrance, Angeline pulled, she on one side, James on the other. Dodd’s chest popped through. Finally his legs appeared. But his feet remained. Fire leapt up from below. Dodd screamed. James yanked him the rest of the way. Looping Dodd’s arm over his shoulder, James hoisted him up and dashed toward the portico, whispering a prayer. Angeline ran at his side as they both dodged slabs of stone and tumbled down the stairs and across the courtyard. Obelisks fell left and right. Weaving around them, they burst through the gate into the arms of their friends at the edge of the jungle. All seven of them fell in a heap on the ground, covered in mud, blood spilling over face and arms, chests heaving.
But clinging to one another in victory.
The roar of a thousand cannons pummeled the sky. A plume of flaming rock fired into the air above the temple. James shot to his feet and hauled the others up, ready to run. The wall surrounding the temple collapsed with a thunderous crash. The temple shook as if some giant child thought it nothing but a toy. Then it flattened as if that child stepped on it. Stones larger than a house folded inward and sank into the ground. A wave of dust blasted over them. James squeezed his eyes shut. Coughing, he clung to Angeline as they both fell to the dirt, gasping for air.
The shaking stopped. All grew quiet. Not a breeze stirred, not a bird sang. Afraid to open his eyes and discover he was dead, James sat there holding Angeline, listening to her breathe. He felt her move and push from him. Finally he opened his eyes. Ash and soot showered over them like snowflakes.
The temple was gone.
C
HAPTER 39
Wilt thou, Angeline Moore, have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance…” Angeline smiled at James as he continued, half reading from the Book of Common Prayer, half gazing at her with his bronze eyes so full of love they seemed ready to burst. Was it proper—or even legal—for him to perform his own marriage ceremony? Angeline supposed if they were breaking some cardinal rule, God would make an exception in their case. For she wouldn’t be able to stand another day—another night—without this man. Especially not the time it would take to travel to Rio de Janeiro to see a priest.
James took her right hand in his. Strong, bruised fingers intertwined with hers, the sensual action sending her breath spinning. A salty breeze tossed his hair over the collar of his shirt. The shirt that was missing two buttons and was singed in one spot where the heat from the tunnels had burned him. A badge of honor for his godly mission to restrain evil. One that he had accomplished with great courage and God’s power. They all had, in fact. But James had been their leader. The prophet, the forerunne
r.
And she couldn’t be more proud.
Nor could she be more excited that today he would become her husband. This preacher-doctor who looked more like a sailor stranded on an island than a groom. A sailor who had picked a fight with otherworldly beasts from the looks of the cuts and bruises on his face, neck, and arms. But as he stood there on the sandy beach beneath a bamboo arbor laden with orchids and red ferns, his hair and shirt blowing in the wind, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. The thought that within minutes he would become her husband made a tingle spread clear down to her toes.
“I, James Callaway, take thee, Angeline Moore, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Someone sniffed in the audience, and Angeline saw Magnolia lift a handkerchief to her eye. Beside the Southern belle stood all the people who mattered most in the world to Angeline: Hayden, Eliza, Blake, Sarah, and Thiago. Next to them, Moses shadowed Mable who perched beside the Scotts. In the distance, Captain Ricu watched along with a group of his pirates. Those who had sided with Patrick—apparently over half his crew—were conspicuously absent. They had been “reward their due” Ricu had explained when asked, and Angeline hadn’t wanted to inquire what that meant.
Dodd, bandages on his feet and legs, sat on a boulder to the right. She smiled at Mr. Lewis, who sat beside him, having reappeared from the jungle yesterday, dazed and with no remembrance of the past two months. Had he turned into a man-wolf, this Lobisón, as Thiago still insisted, and then somehow changed back when the beasts were imprisoned? Angeline didn’t know, nor did she want to think about it on such a glorious day.
Abandoned Memories Page 33