Page 29

Chapter Twenty-Eight

M y blood had circulated what felt like over a million times in the last minute. No white walkers. No zombies. No animals. Not even a sound rounded the corner. So far, so good . The next step was to peer into the darkness behind the half-open door.

My hands clasped Andrew’s forearm as he shone his flashlight inside the new path, but it was impossible to see anything from where I stood.

Andrew ran light over the foot-thick edge of the door. “You stay here.”

“Why?”

“Just in case.”

“Of what ?” I barked. I didn’t mean it to come out as an accusation, but my nerves were jagged. And then it hit me. “In case the door closes. So instead of both of us getting stuck inside, it will be just you. But then what?” I pointed to the stairwell. “I go look for help?”

Andrew’s throat worked as he swallowed hard and pushed the rifle into my hands. Anxiety stabbed at the base of my ribs. I didn’t want to stay alone here with the remains of a Spanish soldier. Actually, he didn’t bother me as much anymore, but the vast jungle above us did. “You realize there’s a good chance I’ll get lost in the jungle? And end up like him.”

“Yes, but there’s a chance you won’t, and you can call for help.” He tilted his head. “Or you could reopen the door.”

Oh. Right.

I let go of his arm and pulled a water bottle out of my bag. I gulped some of it, then handed it to him. “Might as well take this one. Just in case.”

Andrew shook his head. “Keep it.” He threw his backpack on his shoulders and then winked. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t you want a kiss? In case it might be your last one?” I joked with a timid smile.

He adjusted his hat. “I’ll get it once I’m back.”

And he stepped inside.

“Please keep talking to me while you’re in there,” I called after him, a fear tightening my gut into a firm knot. “Andrew, tell me what you see?”

Footsteps accompanied by flashes of light echoed from the gap.

“I’m in a fifteen-by-fifteen space with large cobwebs,” Andrew finally said, “and one huge open-face sarcophagus.” There was a pause, and the soft footfall stopped. “And two very dead skeletons… and… that would be it.”

Defeat popped my bubble of excitement, and I deflated like an old balloon. “No trunks?”

“No.”

“Any other secret passages?”

“No.” His voice dropped off. The sound of metal hitting a stone pierced the stillness. The light in the room went out, and Andrew swore. Then there was a moment of struggle, grunting, heavy breathing, and whispers of strangled cursing. My pulse picked up.

“You okay?” I stood up and crept to the door. “Andrew?”

I didn’t want to chance sticking my head through the opening—with my luck, the door would shut at that moment. “Andrew?” I repeated louder. More grunting.

Screw it. I slipped into the crypt. The light of my flashlight fell on Andrew’s feet dangling off the ground, his body bending over the edge of a big-ass white marble sarcophagus as if something was pulling him in.

“Andrew!” I scurried down a short staircase, missing the last step and coming down so hard with my right boot on the floor that my joints painfully popped.

“Stop!” Andrew pushed off the edge, looking up at me wide-eyed. A thick layer of cobwebs decorated his hat and clung to his face.

I froze.

Under my boot, the ground sank an inch, and a metal bang went out like a shotgun. A mechanical racket erupted, gears turning and working, the scrape of a stone on stone.

This didn’t sound right.

Andrew lunged in my direction, his hat flying off. He took all three steps in one jump and threw his body into the closing door. His boots scraped the floor as the door overpowered him and sealed shut. Dead silence fell upon us.

fucked | f?k-?d |

VERB: [w/ object] have sex with someone. Nope, not at the moment.

[w/t object] Dr. Andrew Jones and Adriana Jones’s current circumstances.

ORIGIN: Possibly Germanic (Swedish dialect focka and Dutch dialect fokkelen) early 16th century.

Certainly Colombia, present day, ten thirty a.m.

I was half expecting the floor to shake, rocks to fall on our heads, and water to rush in like it did in movies about tomb explorers. But it didn’t happen.

Andrew pressed his forehead into the wall. “I thought I told you to stay put,” he said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my muscles so tense they hurt. Was it safe for me to move? The way Andrew had hurried, he didn’t care where his feet landed. “I thought you were in trouble.”

“I wasn’t.” He hit his forehead again and exhaled sharply. “Jesus Christ.”

Andrew snatched my flashlight out of my hand and marched to the side of the sarcophagus. He pulled himself up, bent over the edge, and a moment later jumped back, gripping his torch. He returned and handed me mine.

I dropped my chin, my gaze on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. I lifted my foot, and an outline of a square came into view. Shit . How could I have known there was a trap button? He could have warned me.

I mustered my courage and looked up. I wished I could say Andrew’s expression was unreadable. But it was quite the opposite. It was very comprehensible. His jaw was so taut, I’d likely hear his teeth cracking any second, and his usually kind eyes were ablaze with irritation.

“There’s probably a release shaft or something,” I whispered. He stared at me.

Andrew’s gaze went to my shoulder. His eyebrows pulled together. “Where is your backpack?”

I tilted my head in the door’s direction, a cocktail of guilt and stupidity slashing in my brain. “Out there.”

Half of our food and water supplies.

The rifle too.

Not that we’d need it in a closed-in stone box with two dead bodies.

Andrew dropped his head. “Bloody great.” He took a deep breath. I winced, getting ready to be on the receiving end of a shit storm of unpleasantries that was coming my way. “I placed the satellite phone into your bag,” he said in a low voice.

I needed a second to process that. He did what?

“Why would you do that?” I barked and stepped back. I didn’t care if I pressed another button and the entire floor collapsed.

“In case something happened to me,” he said, still not raising his voice. “In case we got separated.” He groaned. “God, you have proved to have a talent for creating difficulties. First, you put on the bracelet, and now you’ve locked us in the bloody tomb.”

That stung. Earlier, he was glad I’d tagged along with him on this trip.

“You should warn me when you do things like that,” I yelled, throwing my hands up.

“I thought you saw me doing it last night, and I also didn’t think you’d follow me in here.” He looked somewhere past my shoulder, shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer when I called your name, and you were struggling.”

Andrew’s eyes locked with mine, and his nostrils flared. “If I’d heard you,” he said in a controlled tone, “I’d have answered.”

Shouldn’t he be in a frenzy of furious rage? Tearing me apart? Shouting at me? I could clearly see he was annoyed with me, but why was he trying to be composed? I was the one who had made a mistake, and I wanted to pound on his chest as if it was his fault.

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

Andrew lowered to the ground and planted his elbows on his knees. “I’m saving my strength.”

With his eyes closed, Andrew rested his chin on his linked fingers, grasping the flashlight, the beam pointing at the front wall of the coffin. It had a design of steps leading up to a door with a double-sloped roof in Roman or Greek style with a decorative pedestal placed on the pediment. There were inscriptions at the bottom and at the top. I wanted to ask what they said, but it was probably best to let Andrew stew for a while.

Fear and guilt bottled up in my chest as I padded in the opposite direction and slid to the floor with my back to the wall. I fought the sob wedged in my throat, and then my chin quivered. I should have hugged William before leaving instead of kissing his forehead. The thought of him was like a blow to my gut, and the sob burst from my mouth. With trembling fingers, I fished out my phone from a pocket, and the home screen came to life with a photo of William and me, laughing our asses off at his last birthday celebration in Savannah. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them with my grungy dressing on my forearm. I’d miss seeing his face and hearing his jabbing remarks. Because of my stupidity, we would never go on another spontaneous trip or watch a cheesy movie while talking over each other. But at least he was safe. God, I never thought I would be glad he’d hurt his ankle.

I hit the back of my head on the cold granite. My karma had a wicked sense of humor, and she’d outdone herself this time. I drew in a shuddering breath and put my forehead to my knees.

An hour passed, or maybe even more, before the shock of the situation started wearing off. The entire time, Andrew and I sat in stale silence, the dust particles flowing in the beam of our flashlights.

What would come first: death from thirst or a burst bladder because there was no way in hell I’d pee locked in a room with Andrew? I shook my head. I shouldn’t think about that. I should channel my energy into something else instead, like chiseling our way out of here. Sitting and sobbing was unproductive. If I were to die here, I would die trying to find the way out. My hand twisted the bracelet, loosely dangling on my wrist. I didn’t need it anymore.

Taking it off, I shuffled to Andrew’s backpack, unzipped its front pocket, and carefully lowered it in. Then I circled the white marble casket, not daring to climb it and check what was inside.

All four sides were decorated with magnificent works of art. The right side had a garden with fruits and blooming bushes, a man and a woman with two small children on either side. Augustine and Maria with their sons. And everywhere there were birds. In the skies. On trees. On the ground. In the hand of each boy.

The back side had a design of the same birds facing each other that we had found on the tile at Erizo at Las Loma. The left side had the carving of the palace from the sketch: the building that we were in. I traced my fingers over the curves and valleys of its roof and turrets. The details were unbelievably vivid. It would have been a beautiful place to live.

When I’d made a full circle, Andrew crouched by the front of the sarcophagus. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the design. At least my last days would be in the company of a handsome man who probably regretted his earlier words that he was glad I’d come on this trip.

“You’re staring at me,” Andrew said without lifting his eyes to mine.

“Yes, I am, because there’s nothing else pretty to look at.” I bent and picked up his hat and dusted off the cobwebs. “Again, I’m very sorry for… messing up.” Andrew hummed, thinking, his teeth grazing his bottom lip.

I placed the hat on my head and returned to the locked door. The bracelet was the key to unlocking this vault. From outside. Inside there were no holes in the wall for me to push my hand through. Why would Augustine need to shut the door from the inside if only the dead were here? To keep zombies from leaving? I scoffed. This space was designed to be a safe. And only later must have been converted into a crypt. The trap must have been original to the design. What was the purpose of it?

What if it was also a panic room?

“There must be a way out of here.” I spun around to look at Andrew. “Maybe one of these blocks is a button of some sort?” Of course, one of them could also be a “release the booby traps” button. Crap. I wasn’t sure I liked Andrew’s job. He should stick to teaching if we get out of here.

He hummed again. “All right.” He rose to his full height.

“All right, what?” I peered at him.

Andrew took a step toward me, removed his hat from my head, and placed it on his. “You promised me a kiss.” He palmed the back of my neck and took over my mouth with his. It both surprised and electrified me. But as much as I loved the feel of his soft lips, I was also very much confused. I broke our kiss.

“I’m lost. First, shouldn’t you be outraged and not make out with me? And second, is this a goodbye kiss?”

“I was mad. Yes, you should have listened to me, but you didn’t lock us in intentionally.” Andrew’s breath ghosted over my lips. “I believe I know the way out.”

A new energy and relief surged within me. I arched backward. “Where?”

Andrew pointed the flashlight at the design with the door and the stairs. “Through that.”

I narrowed my eyes at the inscription. “Is that what it says?”

“It says, ‘Everything I lived for is here with me. My only love, my most treasured.’”

“That’s sweet Augustine called Maria his most treasured, but I hoped it said something like ‘push the second stone down to the left and the door opens.’”

“Don’t worry, there will be pushing.”

Andrew ran his hand over the groove where the sarcophagus’s front-facing wall met its side ones. He handed me his flashlight, then propped his shoulder into the corner of the marble crate. I had no doubt Andrew could lift or move many heavy objects, but there was no way he could shift this massive box. Even if we tried together, we couldn’t do it.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Trying to slide this panel.” Andrew pushed with his legs, his thigh muscles straining against the fabric of his pants. His boots skidded on the floor. He braced his right leg against the wall and pushed harder.

The sound of stone scraping against stone mixed with Andrew’s deep growl, and air wheezed through a one-inch opening.

“It’s working.” I wanted to clap with joy.

“Christ.” Andrew slumped to the ground, his chest rising and dropping fast. “This is not easy.”

He took several breaths and twisted on his butt. Leaning his back to the wall, he planted his feet on the side of the panel. He clenched his teeth and tried to straighten his legs. Dropping the flashlights, I reeled to the other side and gripped the panel’s edge, my nails painfully digging into the stone. Pushing with my foot on the coffin I used every bit of my strength to tug. We struggled until the heavy panel gave in and, with a harsh grating groan, slid open.

My pulse drummed in my neck as I picked up my flashlight and sidled to assess the portal—most likely to hell—we’d just uncovered. A cool, clammy draft ruffled the ghostly cobwebs in a dark passage with straight stairs leading deeper down into the bowels of the building. Andrew grabbed his backpack off the ground and stepped to me.

“The machete or the rifle would be nice to have,” Andrew muttered and waved his hand. “Ladies first.” Yeah. I shook my head. “Just kidding.” He ducked into the opening.

Andrew and I had to bend our heads as we descended the staircase sidled by bare granite walls, the never-ending spiderwebs piling up on Andrew’s hat like a dirty bridal veil.

“How exactly did you figure out there was a passage?” I peeled a grim mesh off my face.

“The inside of the sarcophagus is sloped and about half a meter deeper on the front side.” Andrew straightened as he stopped on the last step. “And the door design with inscriptions was a giveaway.”

At that moment a loud bang like a bomb went off behind me, jolting my body. My heart slammed against my chest as the debris of rocks hit my back and head, and a dust cloud ceased my breathing.