Restless Soul - Alex Archer [26]
“I’m okay. I’m in a—” She paused and swung her flashlight behind her. “Tunnel.” It wasn’t a simple niche that she’d carved; she’d managed to knock away a wall of earth that had concealed another cave tunnel.
“I’ve found a tunnel, Lu!” she called back with as much voice as she could muster. “I’m going to check it out. I’ll be right back. If it’s good, I’ll lower a rope.”
“Hurry!”
The panic in Luartaro’s single word spurred her. She spun around and, leaving the pack and coil of rope on the floor, she crawled deeper as fast as she could.
After several yards, she was able to stand.
Flashlight in one hand, she jogged toward what she prayed was a way out. The passage canted up slightly, buoying her hopes. She knew they couldn’t be far from the surface because of the tree roots.
Her footsteps echoed against the stone. From somewhere up ahead, she heard the squeak of bats and the patter of rain. Thunder boomed and she felt the vibration through the stone.
Annja knew she wasn’t high in the mountains; they’d not traveled upward enough for that. But she was near the surface somewhere, a low spot in the range or perhaps a cleft between peaks.
Thunder sounded again, and she sucked in a great gulp of stone-scented air and plunged ahead faster. The sensation of insects dancing on her skin threatened to send her into a scratching fit.
The tunnel descended again, and just when she worried it might take her back to another water-filled place, she stepped through an opening and into another chamber.
It had a hole in the ceiling that opened to the sky.
Free me.
Rain poured through the hole and the place reminded her a little of a South American cenote because of the pool of water in the center where it collected from the storm. From the amount of rain that had been coming down the past two days, she suspected the pool was deep.
Free me.
The words sounded stronger and even more insistent than they had before.
The gray light filtering through the hole in the ceiling and the pale yellow light of her flashlight revealed the rest of the chamber’s contents.
There was a soggy rope ladder dangling down and twisting in the wind that whipped its way inside. The rain blew in at an angle and shimmered in the beam of her flashlight.
Free me.
She swung the beam around.
There were more teak coffins and, off to the side, something that shimmered too much to be made of wood. She took a step forward and focused her light on it.
“Oh my,” Annja said. The icy feeling that had gripped her in Tham Lod Cave came back in force and dropped her to her knees.
6
The voice in Annja’s head was louder and more demanding, but at the same time it seemed calmer, as if she had finally found its source.
Annja wanted desperately to investigate the chamber that very instant. The mystical voice, the source of her unease, was here. There were also all manner of things that she wanted to study, and preferably without her companions around. But she felt responsible for Luartaro and Zakkarat. They were her first priority.
She raced back down the tunnel, retrieved the men and led them to the rope ladder that would take them to the outside and safety.
For an instant, she’d hoped that they would leave so she could spend time in the chamber alone, but in her heart she knew that wouldn’t happen. And she couldn’t blame them.
“Annja, this is amazing.” Luartaro stood slack-jawed. He’d somehow managed to keep his pack, and it fell with a thunk at his feet. “I…I’m at a loss for words. This is staggering.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Her own pack rested at the edge of the pool. “It is staggering and amazing and more. I need to get a film crew here for Chasing History’s Monsters.”
“There are no monsters here,” Luartaro said, his voice an awed hush. “Just treasure.”
“Maybe they’ll make up a monster,” Annja said. Her producer, Doug Morrell, would do that to get a film crew there. Especially if she told him there was a spirit in the lime.