“How do we get out of here?” Joe whispered.
“Based on the evidence, we don’t.”
Unless… Zahra thought. She was swiftly putting together a batshit crazy plan in her head. But it wouldn’t work unless she could get the natives to fire again.
“We come in peace!” she shouted, slowly turning in a circle. She wasn’t showing the tribe that she wasn’t their enemy. She had invaded their home. She was the very definition of enemy to them. What Zahra was actually doing was scoping the place out and looking for a way out. Eventually, she, once more, spotted the tunnel at the rear of the city. So far, it had been the only exit she had seen on the ground floor.
I guess that’s my way out. Her shoulders tightened. I hope so, anyway.
As of now, it was just Joe and three of his men. The guy that Zahra had knocked out was still down somewhere in the city, and another had just become a man-sized sea urchin.
“You ready?” she asked, lowering her hands. Her right hand landed on her sidearm.
Joe’s eyes glanced down at her weapon, and he swallowed. But he nodded and whispered to his men what to do. None of them wanted to shoot their way out, but there wasn’t really another option at the moment.
At the moment… Zahra let the words ring out in her head, getting ready for her part of the plan. Her moment would come very soon.
“Sorry, Joe,” she muttered. “Now!” But Zahra didn’t draw her pistol. Instead, she dropped to her knees and ducked her head. The others opened fire on the natives above and scattered, doomed to die the same way their brother-in-arms had.
Zahra pulled the mangled corpses of the young British explorers on top of her, using them, as well as the two stone altars, as shields against the volley of descending arrows. Just as quickly as Zahra had hidden, she shot back to her feet and ran, snatching up the arrow and journal. She ripped the book free and headed for the first-floor exit. She didn’t once look back at the condition of her “armor,” figuring they looked as bad as Joe and his team.
Speaking of Joe…
Within her mad dash, Zahra glanced left and spotted him on his back. His vacant, far-off stare was fixated in her direction. She hated that she had used Joe to save her own skin, but it was what she had been forced to do. Plus, Joe had been a backstabbing dickhead. If the natives hadn’t killed him, she would have had to have done it herself, more than likely.
Angry, unintelligible shouts echoed all around her, as did the sound of arrowheads deflecting off stone. One after the other, the lethal projectiles fell, just barely missing their intended target — Zahra. She serpentined her way back into the network of huts and put on as much speed as possible. Luckily, her legs were still in pretty good shape, all things considered. It also helped that the city had been built so precisely. The main throughway was a straight shot to the tunnel.
Oddly, the assault paused, and so did Zahra. She skidded to a halt as something immense stomped out of the darkness of the passage. A native, much larger than the rest, marched right for Zahra. He didn’t carry a bow and arrow, either. The only thing he held was the thick femur of an animal. One end was adorned with several sharply cut stones. The handmade mace looked wicked, and it was stained with dried blood.
She raised her fists and prepared for a brawl. There was no way for Zahra to make it around the behemoth without taking some hits. She was a fighter, but still — this guy was huge.
“Ehh, screw this,” she muttered. Invoking the scene from one of her favorite movies, Zahra drew her Glock and shot the living mountain in the gut, then took off, leaping over the fallen man with ease. Before another arrow could get close to her, Zahra entered the corridor, flicked on her flashlight, and ran like her life depended on it.
Because it did.
The Amazonians moved impossibly fast and were on top of Zahra in seconds. They seemed to move with superhuman speed, though Zahra figured it was that they, more than likely, already had people closing in on ground level while she and Joe were caught out in the open at the city center. Razor-sharp arrows pinged off the tunnel walls all around her. Tiny pieces of stone shrapnel peppered her body, forcing her to cover her head with her arms. It was amazing that she hadn’t been seriously harmed — not that she was complaining.
The beam of her flashlight bounced like crazy, making it difficult for her to see where she was going. But within its aura, she noticed that the path was natural, not manmade. It was like the one she had originally entered through. At one point in the distant past, it had contained water that had flowed into, or possibly out of, the hidden cenote. The passage’s surfaces were smooth, and the way carried on forever. Zahra thought about blindly firing behind her to keep the incoming voices at bay but knew the action would do very little except ruin her hearing. It was a sense she could not afford to damage or lose altogether.
Light! She spotted a white pinprick up ahead.
The feeling of freedom gave her what must have been her fourth or fifth wind. Even though her legs felt like burning Jell-O, she put on a touch more speed. The pinging projectiles slowed as she pulled away from her pursuers until there was nothing but her heaving breath and pounding footfalls.
The pinprick of light grew quickly, and she slid to a stop just before the ground beneath her feet fell away. Zahra leaned out over the immense drop and cursed under her breath. The corridor had once been a waterfall. Now, the only thing there was a dead end. She was, by all accounts, trapped.
Wind pummeled the rock face, forcing Zahra away from the exit. She turned and shot her powerful flashlight down the tunnel, spotting movement. The barbaric Amazonians were here, though they didn’t look all that interested in killing her.
Yet, Zahra thought, picturing the tortured form of Jack Fawcett. Like him, she would be sacrificed to their god. Her heart would be cut out while it was still beating.
Feeling like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive, Zahra backpedaled until her heels found nothing but air. There, she teetered over the drop, feeling her chest constrict. She was terrified, filled with dread, and had trouble catching her breath. Even if she emptied both her magazines into the horde, she’d die.
It meant that Zahra needed another option.
The air buffeting her back settled down long enough for her to hear the telltale sign of swiftly running water. The white noise was somewhere far below her, out of sight. The tunnel exit overhung the sound’s source, jutting out far enough that it hid what she hoped was a deep river from view.
And with that, Zahra put her faith in Lady Luck. She leaped backward and fell, immediately peering between her feet. She was high, easily over a hundred feet up. Once, after diving off of an Olympic-height platform following a lost bet, Zahra knew that entering the water without the proper technique hurt.
From this altitude, it was going to hurt like hell.
You’ll be fine… as long as the water is deep enough.
She flipped forward and angled herself toward the cliff, bringing her body over the fast-moving, narrow current just like a skydiver would. Nearly there, she decided to avoid injuring her shoulder worse and enter the water feet first. She flipped back around, straightened her legs, and pointed her booted toes. Suddenly, more graceful than she thought possible, she entered the churning rapids like a fleshy torpedo.
Zahra fought as hard as she could, taking in water several times. She spotted a low-growing tree limb up ahead and waded toward it. Timing would be everything, as would what little strength she had left. With inches to spare, Zahra reached up and snagged the limb, barely holding onto it. Her submerged body acted like a paddle, catching the water instead of avoiding it.