WHERE TIGERS PROWL

by Karin Story

  "'Kay."

  "Step carefully."

  Clinging vines and moss pressed against her face, then she was in another passage. It gradually grew tighter. Moisture dripped off the ceiling and walls. More than once, her boots slipped on the muddy ground. She wondered if this was how an earthworm felt, slinking through the slimy, dark earth, the ground compressing all around. Grubbing aside the soil, oblivious to light or fresh air. Just endlessly traveling in a mired, oozing, subterranean maze, forever and ever and ever.

  Her fingers locked in a death grip on Tom's hand, but his grasp never wavered. He held true on his course, pausing only occasionally.

  She trudged on, trying to concentrate on the tall, strong figure in front of her, and keep her feet from slipping out from under her.

  You cannot lose it now.

  Concentrate. Think about something to get your mind off this godforsaken darkness.

  She didn't think they were being followed. It was possible the soldiers didn't even known they were down here. With all the doors standing open, they could have assumed she and Tom had escaped out the main house.

  Or, even if they did continue down the tunnel searching for them, was it possible they didn't know about this passage she and Tom had taken? She certainly hadn't seen a hint of it when she was down here earlier with the flashlight.

  For that matter, how had Tom been so certain there'd be a way out?

  Her inability to see caused her other senses to compensate. She couldn't hear anyone following them, but she had a feeling that when Tom stopped every now and then, it wasn't because he was finding the way, but rather because he was listening. She strained her ears to listen also. Her shallow, strained breathing, Tom's even, deep breathing, the water bubbling and churning, growing louder, their squishy footfalls permeating the darkness, all reassured her that she was indeed alive and this wasn't her tomb.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Tom stopped again, and she nearly ran into him. This time, he didn't move again right away.

  He turned to her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, giving her strength.

  "Mare, I know what this darkness is doing to you, but we've reached the end of the trail. As far as I can tell, the only way to go from here is to swim. I don't want us both to leap in there not knowing where it goes, though." He knelt down and pulled her with him, still holding her close. "I need you to stay put while I see where this goes, okay? Can you hang in there for a few minutes?"

  What he was really asking her was if she could manage to stay sane in the dark by herself. Oh, God, could she? She didn't know. Her hands began to shake, then her arms, and her body followed.

  He rocked back and forth with her. "Shh. It's okay, baby. It's okay."

  A sob built in her chest. God, she needed to get out of this inky pit of death.

  Taking a deep, gasping breath, she steeled herself. The only way out was to do what Tom said. And for once in her life, she didn't have the strength to argue with him. In fact, right now it was probably for the best. If she tried to swim in her condition, she'd drown for sure. She had to take this time to pull herself together.

  "Okay. Go on," she whispered. "I'll be fine."

  He cupped her face gently in his hands. "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah." She sniffed and wiped the back of her sleeve across her nose.

  "You point your rifle back in the direction we came from, and if you hear anything—anything at all—you shoot. Don't wait to see who or what it is. Just shoot, and keep on shooting until whatever it is stops moving, okay?"

  "Mm-hmm."

  "I know it's hard, but try not to use the flashlight unless you have to. If someone did manage to follow us through this muck, seeing the light will give you away."

  "Okay."

  "All right. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  She nodded, fighting back the quiver in her lower lip.

  Suddenly, Tom's firm, warm lips were pressed against hers, tasting, biting, demanding a response. And she gave it, letting her love for him pound through her.

  As quickly as it started, it stopped, leaving her with warmth flowing through her veins—needing and wanting more, but also finally able to delve down inside her and find the strength she needed to fight off the darkness a while longer.

  "I love you, Maris."

  "I love you, Tom. Or whatever your name is."

  He closed the space between them and kissed her again gently, then she felt him smile. "It's Tom," he breathed against her lips.

  And with a soft splash, he was gone.

  Chapter 27

  * * *

  It's Tom.

  He'd sounded so confident, so certain. Had he remembered? And if he remembered, is that how he knew there'd be a way out down here?

  A rustle on the dirt nearby sent her heart into palpitations. She aimed the rifle, but just couldn't make herself pull the trigger when she didn't know what had made the noise.

  The blackness swallowed her, and she wondered if this was what death would be like. Just black nothingness?

  Her body convulsed again.

  Please come back, Tom. Please come back soon.

  Something ran across her feet, causing her to jump backward in alarm. Damn, damn, damn. That was enough.

  Holding the rifle in one hand, her other trembling hand barely managed the switch on the light, but at last, the illumination of the flash lit the tunnel.

  A large rat scurried off into a hole in the dirt wall.

  Sagging in relief, Maris turned the light back off and clutched her arms around her knees, drawing them closer to her. Rats she could handle. At least the furry, four-legged variety. But why did it have to be so damn dark? Anything but this.

  Even though momentary, the light had given her an idea of where she was. Tom had been right, there was nowhere else to go. A wall of dirt and rock blocked the way. The stream had grown in size and was now more of a river, nearly three meters wide. It disappeared into a cavernous hole in the side of the earth.

  Oh, my God! That's where Tom had gone. How was he going to get back?

  Please come back.

  She heard no other sounds over the water. Was it possible they really weren't being followed?

  Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. She tried to keep a grip on her sanity by reciting the Lord's Prayer in every language she spoke, and when she'd finished that, she started on basic, Mother Goose nursery rhymes.

  Finally, she guessed Tom had been gone for nearly an hour. How long did she wait before she assumed he wasn't coming back? Fear and worry gnawed at her as the darkness slowly consumed her.

  Her mind began to wander down paths that her logical mind warned her were distorted, but that her rapidly deteriorating emotional state suddenly found believable.

  What if Tom had left her here intentionally?

  No, he would never do that.

  What if he'd been working with that demonic golden-eyed monster who looked like him? Maybe they were in this together all along.

  No. No, no, no.

  But the thoughts became more insistent.

  It had been either totally dark, or nearly so the whole time they'd been together down here. When they spoke, it had been mostly in whispers. She honestly hadn't had a clear view of him since they'd run into each other outside her cell.

  Terror surged through her. What if…oh, God…what if the man who'd led her down here wasn't her Tom at all? What if her Tom really was dead and that evil bastard was manipulating her again? Pretending to be Tom?

  The never-ending pressure of the wicked blackness pressed in on her. Harder. Harder.

  She heard herself gasping for air.

  What if he was the evil one?

  And she'd gone right along with him.

  What if Tom was dead, and that…that devil had played on her emotions and her fear of the dark, and led her in here to be hopelessly lost forever? He'd walked in front the whole way, pushing aside drooping vines and roots, picking a path through the mud. Even if
she turned on the light now, she doubted she could find her way back to where they'd started. The blackness had twisted her sense of space and direction, but they had to have traveled a good mile or more through this pit.

  There had been places where the sound of the stream had disappeared completely, which meant that it either entered some other cavern, or went back underground. She wouldn't even be able to follow it out.

  And the devil? For all she knew, he ducked underwater, swam his way back upstream and returned to the entrance.

  She was alone.

  Alone in the clinging, oppressive, smothering dark.

  Her lungs closed in on her.

  Pressure built in her chest.

  Her head swam on her shoulders.

  She was going to die here.

  When a splash sounded next to her, she barely heard it above the roar of her panic.

  Powerless to move, either to run away, or to defend herself, she couldn't even see her attacker. But she knew it was him.

  Cold wet hands grabbed hers. Paralyzed, she knew she ought to be fighting, yet couldn't. What difference did it make? He was going to kill her anyway, just as he had Tom. And then he'd dump her body into this underground river never to be seen again. No one would ever know what had happened to her.

  "Maris?"

  She heard the voice, but couldn't respond.

  "Come on, Mare, talk to me."

  Why couldn't he just kill her and end it?

  "Maris!" The voice, louder now, stung her tender senses. The cold hands moved to her arms and shook her.

  Her head wobbled back and forth from the sharp movement. She heard muttered swearing, then the cold hands searched her, but searched for what?

  Suddenly, the hellhole illuminated. He'd turned on the flashlight and balanced it in the muddy ground so its beam turned upward. It reflected off the low dirt ceiling, giving off a decent amount of light.

  Then he was kneeling in front of her, turning her face up toward his with his freezing hands, peering into her eyes.

  "Mare, it's okay. I found a way out of here."

  His gentle voice only terrified her more. How did he make himself sound so much like Tom?

  "J— j— just k— kill me and g— get it over with."

  His eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but nothing came out. Then suddenly his face relaxed, and he pulled her toward him.

  Some self-preservation instinct inside her finally kicked in and she began to struggle. But he ignored that, and hauled her onto his wet legs, cradling her gently but firmly against his chest.

  "No." She kicked and slashed out with her hands.

  "It's me," he said against her cheek, holding her arms immobile, yet not hurting her with his tight grip.

  "No!" Hot tears slid down her face.

  "Listen to me, I know he and I have similar features, but looks are where it stops. That's the only thing we have in common. It's me, I swear."

  Her burst of energy had been short-lived and the will to fight was already deserting her. Much easier to just succumb to the darkness and the evil.

  "Here…" He held her with one arm as he dug into his pocket. "Look at this." He held out his hand, clenched in a fist.

  "Look," he commanded, then opened his hand to show a small object in his palm. "Take it. It's yours."

  Through her tears, she leaned forward and glared at the small, circular object no bigger than her pinky nail. Not daring to touch it, she examined it where it sat in his hand, her heart thudding loudly against her ribcage.

  "You know what this is," he said quietly. "I found it in the bed before I left the cabin that night. I wanted something to remember you by and I hoped you wouldn't mind, so I took it. I've carried it with me all this time."

  She looked at the small silver hoop earring. She'd known it was gone, and had spent several minutes trying to find it that next morning before she left the cabin. It had never occurred to her that he might have taken it.

  "Here," he dug in his pocket again. "I also have this to return to you. He must have taken it from you when he caught you. He used it to get me to come here with him." His voice choked as he handed her the charm bracelet. "When he showed it to me outside the cantina, I thought I'd lost you forever."

  Slowly, Maris turned her gaze to him, to his face. The light from the flashlight still didn't make things bright, but at least she could see well enough to really study him.

  Granted, she'd only seen the evil demon twice, but the second time, in her cell she'd had the opportunity to observe him carefully, noting the similarities, but also the differences between him and Tom.

  Now, she scrutinized the face before her. With shaking fingers, she smoothed back the wet strands of hair off his forehead, then let her fingers run down to his cheeks. He still had his beard, and with nearly two weeks growth to it, it was starting to look more like a genuine beard. The demon had been clean shaven just a few days ago when she'd seen him. There was no way he could have grown this much hair in such a short time.

  She tugged on it, not trusting her own judgment. Beards could be faked. Aside from the grimace that tightened his mouth at her actions, she got no other response. It stayed in place.

  She stared into his eyes, not able to tell the exact color because of the dim lighting, but still able to see the crow's feet around the edges, and the creases around his mouth. That was one of the things she'd specifically noticed about her captor—he had no smile lines.

  Tom did.

  And when he'd kissed her earlier, there had been no hint of tobacco on his breath. She remembered that the evil one had been smoking when he'd captured her in the building. And come to think about it, the aroma of cigarette had also followed him into her cell when he'd come to badger her. She remembered it because her head had been pounding painfully and that smell had made it worse.

  Putting her hands behind his wet head, she pulled him closer and pressed her mouth against his.

  Confidently, he responded, as if he knew what battle she was trying to settle. Wrapping his arms around her and arranging her more comfortably against him, his lips claimed hers and his tongue explored her mouth, causing a tremulous warmth to explode inside her. A warmth that no man but Tom could ever make her feel.

  She put her arms around his neck and breathed against it. "God, I'm sorry. The dark…it just…"

  "It's okay. I understand." His hand smoothed up and down her back.

  She leaned back and gazed into his eyes. "You remember, don't you?"

  He sighed deeply. "Yeah."

  "And you're not Trent?"

  He smiled at that. "No. My name is Tom Eberson."

  Familiarity tickled at her mind. Eberson? Where had she heard that name before? "You found a way out?"

  "I did. Are you up for trying it?"

  She took a deep breath. "As ready as I'll ever be."

  "I'm sorry it took me so long to return to you. It's a strong current and I had to battle it upstream to get back here."

  "It's okay. Let's just get out of here."

  He nodded. "I don't know how the duffel bag will make it. I'm afraid if either one of us tries to take it, it will just drag us down. It's probably best to just send it through on its own and hope for the best."

  "Well, that's all we can do. Hope for the best." She was feeling more and more like her old self. Amazing what a little light and some company could do for her.

  They put everything into the bag except their handguns and one flashlight, which Maris held, then Tom leaned forward over the water and pushed the bag through the hole in the wall where the river rushed.

  "How are you at holding your breath, baby?"

  "I'll hold it as long as I need to, I guess."

  He squeezed her hand. "Okay then, swim for about forty-five seconds, rise up and you'll find a breathing space. It's a small cave that's filled in with water, but there's about a twelve inch space between the water surface and the ceiling. Once you get there, take a go
od deep breath, then let the current carry you. It gets pretty rocky at some points, so be careful."

  At her nod, he asked, "Ready?"

  "Yeah."

  They held hands.

  "Mare, seriously, be careful."

  She gave him a plucky smile. "Hey, it's me, remember?"

  He squeezed her hand. "Okay, one, two, three."

  They jumped in together, and very quickly she lost her grip on Tom. He was right, the current was strong. And swift. She hadn't had the heart to tell him before, but swimming really wasn't her forte. Give her a road to run or a mountain to climb any day. But tonight, she'd swim for all she was worth. She had to; her life depended on it.

  Using the beam of the flashlight to guide her, she counted to forty-five, rose up and true to Tom's word, there was indeed a breathing space. She treaded water, and sucked in the moist air.

  But where was he? She'd hoped to be with him at this point, but she stalled for another full minute and never heard or saw him.

  Her whole body shook with fear. Feeling very alone again, she knew she had to get on with it. Which way did she go? Aside from the thin beam of the flashlight, jet black surrounded her. She had no sense of direction. Oh, God. Where did she go?

  Tom had told her to let the current carry her.

  Come on, Rhodes. Leap of faith. Leap of faith.

  She took several deep breaths, trying to take in a little more air with each one. Finally, she took in one last breath and held it.

  Leap of faith.

  The current swept her away, and it was all she could do to try to maintain some sort of steady position in the water.

  Using her hands to feel obstacles in front of her, and also to protect herself, she did indeed feel rocks. At first she was able to pull herself to the side before she was forced against them.

  Her lungs were near to bursting, and burned like crazy.

  How much longer did she have to hold her breath? Tom hadn't said anything about how she'd know when she could stop, or come up for air again, or anything.

  A particularly large rock caught her on the shoulder, and she nearly gasped in pain, but managed to hold on to what little breath she had left. The flashlight, however, was swept out of her grip and disappeared into the maelstrom.