Rattled

by Kris Bock

  She wasn’t alone. But that didn’t mean she could wait for Camie or Drew to rescue her. They weren’t tied up, but they had guards with guns, and they would be careful not to put Erin in danger. She wished she knew if one of them had a plan. Until she found out, she had to keep working on her own, testing her own ideas.

  If only she had one.

  Chapter 32

  Erin tried to take a mental step back and look at the situation calmly, as if her life didn’t depend upon it. She simply had to look at all the possibilities. Wasn’t that a Sherlock Holmes thing, something about once you eliminated the impossible, whatever remained had to be the answer, however improbable?

  Of course, that assumed an answer existed. Maybe escape wasn’t possible. Still, looking at the possibilities gave her a place to start.

  Her goal was to get her hands free of the metal rings on the floor. That involved her hands, the webbing, and the metal rings. She had tried changing the shape of her hands and it hadn’t helped. She couldn’t remove her hands from her arms and reattach them—something she had never thought to want before, though now the advantages seemed obvious. She couldn’t break the webbing. She couldn’t untie the knots, because she couldn’t reach them. Maybe she could cut through the webbing, if she got a sharp enough object and had enough time. She’d keep that idea in reserve. She wasn’t sure it was possible, but she wasn’t absolutely certain it was impossible, either.

  That brought her to the metal rings. She took a closer look at them. They seemed secure in the floor, but were they really? The first time she’d gone climbing, Camie had shown her the permanent metal bolts at the top of the climb and explained how they had been put in with a special drill that worked on rock. They could last for decades, so long as the rock was solid. But these bolts had been around for over a century, before the time of portable power drills. Maybe they’d just been hammered in a divot or crack. Maybe they weren’t as secure.

  Erin lifted her hand to pull on a bolt. The webbing dug into her wrist. The bolt didn’t budge. She tried twisting her hand, hoping to grab the bolt, but with the bolt tied at the back of her wrist, she couldn’t get a good grip. Anyway, with her arms stretched out between the rings, she didn’t have leverage.

  She checked on Mitchell, who was pawing through one of the Wells Fargo strongboxes. Erin shifted to kneel with her right elbow on the floor. That gave her a little more leverage, but she had to essentially do a bicep curl to pull up on the metal ring. Her arm ached. Her wrist screamed where the webbing cut into the flesh. Her broken finger throbbed in sympathy.

  Had the bolt wriggled, just a little? Erin took a few panting breaths and tried again. Her whole arm pulsed with pain, but the bolt stayed securely lodged in the rock. Erin moaned and rested her forehead on the cool stone floor.

  Something soft brushed against her knuckles and Erin flinched. Tiger stepped over her wrist and wound himself in a circle around her hand, gently rubbing and purring.

  Erin stared at him. His circling motion around her hand, around the metal ring, gave her an idea. Maybe she could unscrew the bolts rather than pulling on them.

  She glanced at Mitchell again. He was hacking at the lock on a strongbox. Erin winced at the damage he must be causing and then ignored him. She pressed the back of her wrist against the metal ring, trying to twist it with the pressure of the webbing. Sweat dripped down her face and she wished she could peel off the water-resistant jumpsuit.

  The ring didn’t budge.

  She tried twisting the ring in the other direction. Finally, when she thought her arm was going to fall off from the tension, it seemed to move a little. Erin rested a moment, panting. She had the same leverage problem, since she couldn’t get a good grip on the ring. What she really needed was a bar to put through the ring to make a proper handle. She looked around the cave. It was probably filled with things that might work, but of course they were all out of reach.

  She heard a shout from the tunnel and scrambled back to her knees so no one would notice what she’d been doing. Rudy came in, followed by Drew, Camie, and Danny. Mitchell stood again and aimed the gun in their direction, but within half a minute he was looking down at something in his hand, some find that was obviously more interesting than his prisoners. Good, his distraction could only be to their advantage.

  Drew walked past the pile of gold bars and stopped a few feet from Erin. Rudy called out, “Hey, keep away from her!”

  Drew gazed down at Erin. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t risk speaking because Rudy was just a few feet away and quickly closing the distance. But his view of Erin was still partly blocked by the stack of gold bars. She mouthed the words, “I need a bar.” When Drew frowned, she tried to motion with her hand, flexing her wrist to show twisting.

  Drew’s expression didn’t change. “Hang in there.” He turned away as Rudy stepped up beside him.

  Had he understood? Or had he misheard her words, thought she meant something else entirely? Oh God, he didn’t think she meant she wanted a drink, did he? Her words and the odd motion she made with her hand could have been taken to mean just that.

  She leaned forward to get a better look, hoping she might catch his attention again, but Drew and Camie stood side by side, filling their backpacks and not looking in her direction. Erin sighed. Maybe she’d have another chance to make one of them understand. For now, she could rest, until the goons left and Mitchell got busy with his treasure.

  She tried to find a comfortable position, but it seemed impossible. She finally squirmed around to sit with her knees pulled up, her chin resting on them, her arms out to the sides. If only she didn’t ache so much. The adrenaline jolt from seeing Mitchell had faded, and she felt all the strain of the past week. She just wanted to sleep, to make it all go away, and to wake up with everything better. She imagined curling up next to Drew and tried not to wonder if he would ever want to see her again after this disaster. Camie looked over and winked before following Rudy back into the tunnel. Drew didn’t even glance her way.

  Mitchell must have noticed too. Before Danny could leave, Mitchell grabbed his arm and muttered, “Stay close to that one. He’s getting restless, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to run. Tell Rudy to shoot him if he does anything suspicious.” The big man nodded and hurried after Drew.

  Mitchell turned to stare at Erin. She dropped her gaze, too discouraged to try to hide her misery. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mitchell smile and nod before turning back to the strongboxes.

  Erin told herself she didn’t care if he saw her weakness. What did humiliation matter now? He would never feel sympathy, but maybe he would pay less attention to her if he thought she’d lost her will to fight. Not that she was doing anything worth seeing. She should try again to twist the rings out of the ground, but she couldn’t get up the energy. If she hadn’t been able to do it when she first tried, why would it be any better now, when her arms throbbed with exhaustion?

  She told herself not to give up. So long as she didn’t give up, she had a chance.

  But she was starting to believe she might die. Maybe Camie and Drew could get away. She didn’t know why Mitchell was letting Drew and Camie walk around now, even if they were helping move his treasure. Either he was too greedy and lazy to do the hard work himself, or it gave him some kind of sick pleasure to see two people who’d looked down on him forced to obey his commands. Either way, it was careless and they could use that. If they timed things right, they would only have to deal with the first goon out of the tunnel. It must be dark outside, which would help an escape.

  When they came back, Erin had to tell them to try it. Would they be willing to leave her? Her heart trembled at the thought. Even if it was the right decision, she didn’t want to think that her friends could abandon her too easily.

  She remembered Camie’s threat to Mitchell, that bullets wouldn’t stop her from protecting Erin. And Erin knew that was true. Camie was the kind of friend who came along once i
n a lifetime, and only then if you’re very, very lucky. And Drew? Erin didn’t know him nearly as well. But she knew he cared about her, and he had honor. He wouldn’t want to leave her either. She felt comforted, even knowing it was selfish of her. She would have to find some way to convince them to put themselves first. They could go for help. They wouldn’t reach help in time, but maybe the hope would get them to try.

  Erin wasn’t sure what Mitchell would do if Drew and Camie ran. Keep Erin as a hostage during his escape or kill her right away in frustration? She didn’t want to think about that, but she had to consider the consequences of her actions. She had to know if she could handle them.

  Convincing Drew and Camie to attempt an escape seemed like the best plan. But what if they failed? What if one of them got shot? Or both of them? Drew was the only one who could fly the helicopter. If he got killed, or too injured to get over there, Camie would be on her own. She’d have to get to the highway, miles away. If Camie got hurt, Drew might be able to carry her to the helicopter and get help, but they were far from a hospital.

  Erin rubbed her face against her shoulder, but every time she blinked new tears leaked out. Tiger head-butted Erin’s hand. “And what about you?” Erin whispered. She moved a finger to scratch under his chin. Her hand tingled, and she realized it was going numb from the reduced circulation. She started stretching and curling the fingers of both hands. Maybe it was the least of her worries, but letting her hands go numb probably wasn’t good for her broken finger.

  The finger brace! If she could get it off somehow, maybe she could use that as a bar through the ring.

  Then she remembered how easily the brace bent. She didn’t know what kind of metal it was, but it was flexible so you could adjust it to the angle of your finger. Maybe it wasn’t as flexible side to side, though. She wouldn’t know until she tried. She imagined sliding the brace through the ring and then trying to grab it with the hand that had the broken finger, which would no longer have the brace for support. She shuddered. Maybe she could reach the brace with her teeth and move it to her other hand. There had to be a way. She just had to find it.

  Erin realized her despair had lifted and she could again think about what she could do. Sacrificing herself so Drew and Camie could escape was nice in principle, but she’d much rather be running with them. Even better, forget running, and knock Mitchell on his lazy, lying ass. She didn’t care if he’d romanced her only to get to the treasure. But now he wanted to destroy her dream, her friends, and Erin herself, and he would have to pay.

  Erin scowled at the iron rings still lodged solidly in the rock floor. She needed to get to work.

  Rudy called from the tunnel entrance. It didn’t seem like much time had passed, but the others trailed in behind as if nothing had gone wrong. She must have spent more time than she’d realized feeling sorry for herself. Now she had to wait until they left again. Should she tell Drew and Camie to escape or wait to see if she could get the metal ring out of the floor after all?

  Drew came to the corner of the gold bar pile. He gave her a slight smile and then turned his back, pulling off his backpack to start loading up bars. He stood only a few feet away, and Erin tried to decide what to tell him.

  Camie strode toward Mitchell. “Tell me one thing.”

  Mitchell aimed the gun at her. “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “I just want to know who you’re working for,” Camie said. “Because I know you’re not smart enough to pull this off by yourself.”

  Erin’s mouth dropped open. She knew Camie had a temper, but making Mitchell mad now seemed like a bad idea. Rudy and Danny had also turned toward her, ready for trouble.

  Something moved near Drew. At first Erin thought it was Tiger, but when she glanced over she saw a stick slide to the floor. Without looking back, Drew pushed it closer to her with his foot. Then Erin understood—Camie was distracting everyone while Drew gave Erin the tool she needed.

  Camie kept giving Mitchell a hard time, but Erin didn’t hear what she was saying. Drew glanced over his shoulder and nudged the stick until it brushed Erin’s fingers. She managed to slide it closer and adjusted her body so her leg hid the stick from view. Drew shouldered his backpack and snapped at Camie, “Will you shut up? You’re going to get us killed.”

  Camie tossed her head. “Yeah, and you’re such a big help.” She sauntered to the pile of gold bars and started filling her pack.

  Mitchell slowly lowered the gun. He looked at Erin and smiled. He must have been pleased to see dissent among his prisoners. Erin made sure she kept her expression grim. Let him think he had beaten them. They still had a few tricks left.

  Drew and Camie grumbled at each other as they followed Danny into the tunnel. Rudy sighed and said, “It’s going to be a long night.”

  When they were alone, Mitchell sneered at Erin. “No wonder your bitch friend can’t get a man.”

  Erin couldn’t think of anything worth saying, so she concentrated on looking helpless. As soon as Mitchell was elbow deep in a strongbox, she went to work with the stick. Time was key now. When the others came back, Mitchell would look around again and might notice anything out of place. Being halfway free would be worse than anything.

  Erin slid the stick over to her left hand, the one without the finger brace. She managed to hold the stick between her first and middle fingers and push it backward into the metal ring behind her hand. She just hoped the stick was strong enough. It was gray and weathered, fine-grained, with no bark, about a foot long. It felt solid, but it was only about one inch thick. A metal bar would be better, but the stick was probably the best Camie or Drew could do in the circumstances.

  Erin twisted her wrist, ignoring the pain of the webbing cutting in, until she could get her fingers over the stick. She glanced at Mitchell and adjusted her body so her leg would block his view if he looked over. Then she hauled on the stick, trying to turn the metal ring.

  It moved. Maybe she had loosened it earlier, or maybe the extra leverage was just enough. For whatever reason, the base of the ring turned in its hole. Erin had to press her lips together tight to keep from calling out in her excitement.

  But she wasn’t done yet.

  She kept twisting, readjusting her grip as the ring turned. Tears burned in her eyes from the pain in her wrist and hand. She just wanted to be done! She cranked on the stick and heard it groan. Erin froze, her heart pounding. Was it breaking? She slid the stick farther through the ring. Maybe changing the pressure to a new spot would save it. She worked slower, more carefully, fighting back the urge to hurry, hurry, before something went wrong.

  And then the ring popped out of the ground. It spun on the end of the twisted webbing, pinging as it danced over the rock. Erin jerked her hand up and looked at Mitchell. He didn’t glance her way. The noise must have been lost in the tinkling of metal on metal as he pawed through a box of coins.

  Erin sighed and hugged her hand to her chest. The ring hung off the webbing, and she could now see the two-inch bolt that had held the ring into the rock. She wanted to get it off her hand, but getting her other hand free was more important. Now she could edge closer to that ring and use her free hand to pull on the stick. That made it riskier, if Mitchell looked her way, but also a lot easier.

  Erin took a deep breath to stay calm, slid the stick through the ring, and began work. The stick started to bend. Erin changed the position and kept working. She couldn’t tell how much time passed. A minute? Two? It felt like ages.

  Finally she sat on the hard cave floor with her hands free. Each wrist was still wrapped in webbing and tied to a metal ring, but she wasn’t locked to the floor.

  Free!

  She was panting, sweating, her arms and shoulders aching. She was in a cave with a man with a gun, and the only way out led to more dangerous men. But for the moment, she felt the soaring relief of freedom.

  She just had to decide what to do next.

  Chapter 33

  The door was only about 40 feet a
way. Not far at all, and yet potentially too far. Mitchell dug through one of the strongboxes, his body turned toward the doorway. He would probably spot her if she moved. How long did it take to run 40 feet? Maybe only five or 10 seconds, once she got up and moving, but she felt stiff from sitting on the floor. She spread her hands out as if still bolted to the floor and started stretching and flexing her legs, watching Mitchell. She had no idea how good he was with that gun. She didn’t doubt that he would use it, though, if he caught her trying to escape. Although her pounding heart screamed Run!, she needed to wait until he turned away from the door and then try to sneak past him.

  What would she do once she reached the tunnel? She’d be trapped between Mitchell and the goons. Maybe she should try to disarm Mitchell instead. But that sounded just plain stupid. The chance of her successfully sneaking up behind him seemed slim, especially given the way shadows would shift once she got on the other side of the lantern. He had a gun, he was bigger and stronger than she was, and she had minimal fighting skills. If she didn’t knock him out with one blow before he noticed her, she’d be in trouble. Better to get into the tunnel, where she could hide or defend herself better.

  Not much better, but a little.

  Why didn’t he turn away? The others might be back any minute. Someone might check on her. Erin didn’t want to start a fight with all of them in the room together, not when the other side had guns and hers didn’t.

  Her heartbeat ticked off the seconds—probably faster than the seconds, the way it raced. She wished she had a better idea of how long it took the group to haul their gold bars out of the cave and get back in. Just getting up or down the rope had to take several minutes per person, so she couldn’t imagine making the trip in less than half an hour. That didn’t help much, since she had no idea how long they’d been gone. Time seemed to follow its own rules down here, stretching endlessly or compressing like some time warp.