Rattled

by Kris Bock

  Mitchell laughed, and Erin jumped. The metal bolts still tied to her wrists clattered against the floor, but she had her hands in position as he turned to look at her. “How much do you think old bonds are worth?” he asked.

  For a moment she thought he meant the kind of bonds holding her wrists. He held up a sheath of papers, and she realized he meant financial bonds. “I have no idea. You probably couldn’t collect the value on them anymore, so maybe just the price a museum or collector would pay.” On the other hand, the Wells Fargo company still existed. Would the bank have to honor bonds issued a century before, or would they have considered the account closed long ago? She didn’t know, but to disappoint Mitchell, she added, “A couple of dollars, maybe.”

  He scowled and shoved the bonds back into a chest. He turned to another strongbox—the last one—and opened it. He’d turned 90 degrees from the tunnel entrance, his back toward Erin. She felt suddenly lightheaded and reminded herself to breathe. This was her chance. If only he didn’t turn around, if Rudy didn’t walk back into the cave before she got to the tunnel—

  She told herself to stop thinking, and go. She lifted her hands carefully so the metal bolts wouldn’t make a noise against the floor, tucked her feet under herself, and rose. The light from her headlamp brightened the far wall, making Mitchell’s shadow more dramatic. Erin froze, then slowly lowered her gaze to pull the light away from him. He hadn’t noticed the change so far, but she didn’t want to risk throwing more light and shadow around the cave, possibly attracting his attention. She snapped off the light. Mitchell stayed hunched over the box. Thank goodness for greed.

  At a sound near her feet, she remembered Tiger. She hesitated, then scooped him up, hoping he wouldn’t choose now to vocalize his feelings loudly.

  She crept past the pile of gold bars. If only they had been piled away from the cave wall, she could slip behind them for protection. But no, she was completely exposed. Each step seemed to take forever. She kept glancing between Mitchell and the tunnel entrance, waiting for something to go wrong.

  She was 10 feet away. Five feet. Almost there! She started trembling, torn between anxiety and relief.

  “Erin!”

  She launched herself for the dark opening of the tunnel. With a glance back, she saw Mitchell standing, fumbling for his gun, and then she was in the dark. The bang of a gunshot made her duck. Another followed.

  She crashed against the wall and dropped Tiger. He yowled as she pushed herself away from the stone and stumbled through the tunnel with one hand brushing against the wall for guidance. She didn’t want to turn on her headlamp. Mitchell would be right behind her. No need to give him a better view of his target. She gasped for breath, as if she’d run a mile rather than a few dozen feet. She hoped Tiger stayed close behind her but couldn’t risk looking for him.

  She remembered that the tunnel got lower up ahead and lifted a hand. It slapped against the cold stone a foot in front of her face.

  She dropped to her hands and knees and decided she needed to risk the headlamp, even though she heard muttered swears coming through the tunnel behind her. She fumbled for the button on the headlamp. Her finger brace smacked against the headlamp and she gasped in pain, but she found the button with her thumb and pushed it. The light blinded her for a moment but she started forward anyway.

  A gunshot exploded in the tunnel like a clap of thunder. Erin flinched and cried out but kept scrambling forward.

  The metal rings dangling from her wrists clattered against the stone floor. Pain flashed up her arm as she jammed her broken finger on rock. She swore but didn’t slow.

  And then she was scrambling through the hole into the small room with the skeletons.

  She shot to her feet and looked around wildly. She could hear noises in the sloping tunnel ahead. Someone was coming down, cutting off her escape, even if she’d been able to climb the ropes in time with a broken finger. She had to make a stand where she was.

  Something brushed her calf. She gasped and leaped back. Her legs bumped back against the chest and she fell onto it, sitting down hard. Her headlamp shone on Tiger, his fur bristling, and she whimpered with relief.

  A scuffling sound came from the tunnel. Erin jumped behind the chest and tipped it over as Mitchell’s head came into view. Squealing packrats spilled across the ground in front of him. Mitchell yelled, jerked back his head, and smacked it against the low stone ceiling of the tunnel. He shook his head, swearing loudly.

  Erin spotted the mummy with the Spanish sword. She grabbed the sword and hefted it. She’d never held a sword before; it felt heavy and awkward, hard to control.

  She turned back as Mitchell’s upper body came out of the tunnel. He rose on one knee and swung the gun toward her. Erin brought the flat of the sword down on his forearm. His yell echoed in the small chamber as the gun dropped from his hand.

  The sword clanged against the stone floor, ringing like a bell. Erin stumbled forward, barely retaining her grip on the pommel. Mitchell glared into the light from her headlamp. He reached for the gun.

  Erin hauled the sword up again and brought it down over his head. The heavy metal cracked against bone. He slumped to the ground with a groan.

  Erin stood shaking, her hands still gripping the sword while the point rested on the ground.

  She heard a shout and looked toward the sloping tunnel. Rudy slid into sight on the ropes. “What the hell’s going on?” He lifted a hand to shade his eyes as her headlamp glared into them. “Boss?”

  “He’s dead,” Erin said coldly. “Do you want to join him?”

  “We still have your friends. One word and they’re done.” Rudy’s right hand snuck around toward his lower back, and Erin realized he might be reaching for the gun.

  Erin dropped the sword—he was too far away for her to use it in time—and darted around the corner. But she’d be a sitting duck as soon as Rudy got into the room. She could still die. Her friends could still die.

  She couldn’t stop fighting yet. She spotted the gun Mitchell had dropped. She’d never imagined wanting to use one or needing to point one at a person. The thought of shooting someone was almost as bad as the thought of getting shot. But she was desperate, so she stopped thinking and dove for the gun. She rolled onto her side, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  Rudy grinned and aimed his gun at her.

  A bellow echoed down the sloping tunnel. Rudy whipped his head around. He cried out and threw his arms up to block.

  Something tumbled down the slope and crashed into Rudy.

  Cold mud splattered Erin’s face. She shook her head and tried to make sense of the jumble of limbs she saw. Danny lay sprawled across Rudy. Someone was groaning. Maybe both of them.

  Erin pushed herself to her knees, still holding the gun. She spotted Rudy’s gun a few feet away and scrambled to grab it.

  “Erin! Erin!”

  She realized she’d been hearing the shout, Drew’s voice, echoing down the sloping tunnel. “I’m all right,” she called. Her voice sounded high and strange. She took a shaky breath and blew it out. She was all right. They were all right.

  Drew came skidding down the slope, fast but controlled. He had the two ropes wrapped around one arm, crossing under his backside, and then wrapped around his other gloved hand. He must’ve been hurrying too much to bother with the rappel device. He landed on Danny at the bottom but barely gave the goons a glance at he dropped the rope and came toward Erin.

  She smiled, waiting to be swept into his arms.

  He stopped a few feet away. “Maybe you could aim those somewhere else for a minute.”

  She looked at the guns that she held in each hand, pointed at his stomach. “Oh! Sorry.” She pointed them at the ground. “Anyway, one of them is empty or something.”

  Drew took them from her and checked them. He tucked one into the back of his jeans. He kept the other in his right hand as he looked down at Mitchell. “What did you do to him?”

 
“I hit him with the sword.” Erin pointed to it. “Just the flat part, though. I don’t think I killed him. I hope—” The room seemed to swim and her knees threatened to buckle. “Got to sit—or—”

  Drew grabbed her with his free arm and hugged her close to his side. She leaned her face against his shoulder. “Mmm, even better.” She breathed in his scent and felt her trembling lessen. “Sorry, just... just a little reaction.”

  “You’re entitled.” Drew prodded Mitchell with his boot. “He’s still breathing.”

  “That’s all right then.” Erin found it hard to care much about Mitchell’s welfare, but she didn’t want to be a killer.

  A high-pitched squeal and an unearthly yowl came from Mitchell. Drew tensed and raised the gun, but Mitchell didn’t stir. Tiger stepped across his back, a limp packrat in his mouth. “Oh, you’re a big help,” Drew said.

  Drew turned to face the other men. Rudy squirmed and complained, but he still lay trapped under Danny. “We should tie them up.” Drew hugged Erin even tighter. “In a minute. Oh God. When I heard the screaming, the shots—”

  “You dropped a two hundred fifty pound bad guy on the jerk threatening me.” Erin started to giggle.

  “Well yeah, what else?”

  “I guess it’s true, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” For some reason, that seemed like the funniest thing ever. It was probably still reaction, but she didn’t care.

  “Everyone okay down there?” Camie yelled. “Talk to me!”

  “Yeah, we’re okay,” Drew called. “Just give us a minute.” He snuggled Erin against his front, brushed his lips across her cheek, and whispered, “Cause I really got to do this.”

  She sighed and melted into his kiss.

  Chapter 34

  It took another hour to make a plan and get everyone out of the tunnel. They decided to pack up—temporarily—and head home. The BLM office would be open in a few hours, so Camie or Erin could announce their claim and start recruiting security while Drew took everyone else to the police.

  Once Mitchell and Danny regained consciousness they could walk but seemed too weak and groggy to cause trouble. Rudy claimed he had a broken arm and howled so loudly when Drew squeezed it that they agreed he probably wasn’t faking. Still, when they gave him the option of staying down in the cave alone—tied up, in the dark—he decided he could make it up the rope.

  They got out into the canyon as darkness edged toward the gray of dawn. “Six of us now,” Camie said. “These guys must have their SUV hidden somewhere close.” She rubbed her eyes. “Wow, I’m getting a little tired. Let’s tie these guys up, bind their hands anyway. What happened to the webbing?”

  “I’ve got some.” Erin had stuck the webbing in her pockets after Drew untied it from her wrists. She handed the webbing to Camie, who went to work on Rudy’s wrists, ignoring his yelps of pain. Danny sat on the ground, his eyes still glazed, and Mitchell leaned against the cliff wall looking half dead. Drew stood a few feet away, out of range if one of the goons tried something, gun at the ready. Tiger curled up and closed his eyes, rumbling like a little motor.

  Erin stripped out of her jumpsuit and tried to wipe mud from her face, though she knew she was probably just smearing it around. She wanted a shower. Her hands trembled with fatigue as she folded the jumpsuit and put it in her backpack. Maybe she’d sit against the cliff for a minute, until they had to go. She stepped toward it, thinking of a hot shower and a hot meal and—

  Movement flashed beside her. As she turned, Mitchell’s arm went around her neck. He held her between himself and Drew, like a shield. “Nobody move!” he yelled.

  Everyone froze, like a photograph. He backed away from the group, staying close to the cliff wall. Erin grabbed the arm around her neck with both hands and stumbled backward with him. It took her tired brain a moment even to register shock. This was supposed to be over! They had won!

  She trembled at the edge of exhaustion and tears. She couldn’t take any more. She’d given everything she had. How could it not be enough?

  It wasn’t fair. She was tired and wanted to go home.

  Drew edged away from the cliff. Erin stared at the gun in his hand and prayed he wouldn’t use it.

  “I said don’t move!” Mitchell hauled back on Erin’s neck until she choked. “I don’t need a gun to hurt her.”

  Erin twisted and scratched at his arm, coughing uncontrollably from the pressure on her throat. Damn Mitchell! How could he do this to her? The anger surged through her and gave her strength. Enough! She would not be used as a hostage.

  He didn’t have a weapon. If she could just break his hold, pull away, he couldn’t hurt her.

  She remembered the self-defense moves. She couldn’t reach his groin or his throat. He had on heavy boots, making a stomp on the insole worthless. If she could get her feet under herself securely, she might manage a kick back to the knee. But wasn’t there something else? Another main target?

  The eyes! Erin couldn’t see Mitchell’s face, but she could feel his cheek against the side of her head. She glanced at her own hands, wrapped around his arm, and saw the finger brace. She smiled.

  She brought her hand up and back, tucking her fingers together to support the brace, and jabbed at his face.

  The jolt hurt Erin’s finger, but she was getting used to that. Who cared about the pain, when Mitchell howled and loosened his hold. Erin pushed away from him, staggered forward, and fell to her knees. She scrambled away and glanced back over her shoulder at Mitchell.

  With his hands over his eye, he stumbled back. He bumped into the large rubber tub sitting near the cliff wall and fell over it.

  The tub rolled onto its side. The lid popped off. An angry rattling filled the air.

  Mitchell screamed and kicked out. He rolled to his hands and knees and scurried away across the sand.

  Erin stared, her hand over her mouth. Mitchell finally stopped 20 feet away, clutching his arm. “It bit me! Oh my God, help me!”

  The rattling slowly faded as the snakes settled down. Drew handed Camie his gun and walked toward Mitchell. He paused by Erin to squeeze her shoulder. “Back off a little more, honey, okay?”

  She nodded and scooted backward, not yet trusting herself to stand. Drew gave the snakes a wide berth and walked to Mitchell. He stared down as Mitchell writhed and moaned, then bent and looked at Mitchell’s arm. “Yup. He got bit,” he called to the women. “You have a first aid kit, a wrap bandage or something?” To Mitchell he added, “That the only place?”

  “My leg,” Mitchell groaned. “I think one got my leg.”

  Drew pulled up Mitchell’s pants leg and examined his calf. “Scratched you, but that one doesn’t look too bad. The fabric threw off its aim.” He sat back on his heels and smiled at Mitchell. “I bet now you’ll be happy to go back to town with us.”

  “Get me to the hospital,” Mitchell gasped. “Hurry!”

  Camie tossed the first aid kit to Drew. He pulled out a bandage and started wrapping it down Mitchell’s arm from elbow to wrist. “At top speed, I can get to town in about half an hour in the helicopter,” he said to Erin and Camie. “But I can’t take everyone. What do you think?”

  “You and Erin take him,” Camie said. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on these two until you get back. Erin can go to the BLM office when they open and get people moving to protect this site. Then send the cops back here.”

  “Okay by me,” Drew said. “I’ll go for the chopper and bring it down here. If Mitchell runs, he’ll just move the venom throughout his body.” He took off for the side canyon.

  “You sure you’ll be all right with these guys?” Erin asked Camie.

  Camie smiled. “Oh yeah. We’ll have a good time. Just bring back some help. And donuts!”

  They dropped Mitchell at the hospital. Drew burned fuel to get there quickly, but by the time they arrived, Mitchell drooled and slurred his speech, his breathing shallow and labored. When the doctor removed the bandage and saw the swollen, bru
ised arm, she said it looked like a stage three or four envenomation. Mitchell would almost certainly live, but for a week or two he might wish he hadn’t, and he’d lose some of the flesh on his arm. Erin and Drew looked at each other and shrugged. They warned the staff to hold Mitchell for the police, though it seemed unlikely he’d try to escape any time soon.

  They walked out to the parking lot and paused to gaze over the desert valley going golden in the early sun. Drew leaned back against a low wall and pulled Erin close. She nestled her back against his chest and felt the tension drain out as he wrapped his arms around her and brushed a kiss to her hair. “We have over an hour until the BLM office opens,” Drew said. “Do you want to take a nap?”

  Erin shook her head. “Once I fall asleep, I’m not moving for ten or twelve hours.”

  He rubbed his cheek against hers, his stubble pleasantly rough, like a loofah. “We could go to the police now, but I’m afraid we won’t get away for hours. I’ll go when you head to the BLM.”

  Erin turned her head to kiss him. “No. Come to the BLM office with me. After all, your name is going on the report too.”

  Drew went still. “You don’t have to do that. You did all the research, all the real work.”

  “You’ve been an important part of this. Camie and I discussed it when you went for the helicopter. We want to name you as an equal partner.”

  Drew didn’t answer.

  Erin wondered if she’d made a mistake. Did he think she was setting some kind of trap, to keep him in her life? That she expected him to give up everything else to concentrate on her dream? “I mean, if you want that,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to stay and work with us. We may get a little money from it, or not. It’s hard to say until we sort everything out with the government. I want my name associated with the find, and I want access to the research project if I can get it. If you want to—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word leave. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to be bothered, the way you move around a lot. We can—” She was babbling. She took a slow breath. “Whatever you decide to do, you’ll get your credit.” She turned to look into his eyes. “You’ve earned it. It’s what we want, Camie and me, for you to be part of this. However much a part you want to be.”