Helena slumped over Missy in the center of the sundeck, exhausted, unable to drag her farther. She had no idea where Doyle was, in all likelihood his body would be drifting out to sea. She watched as the hundreds of people that surrounded her disappeared until she perceived in her mind the simple word “sleep” and she did.
To Be Continued...
In “Fire Under the Mountain”
July 2018
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Preview “Fire Under the Mountain”
Cell Bound:
Detective Doyle Longstreet leaned against the cool bars, and said, “I hope you understand that holding a police officer against his will is a serious crime.” He could feel his temperature rising in the damp dark cell. Damn it, he thought, stretching out his right arm though the bars, he failed to grab the closest captor.
The black robed guards ignored his threat.
“Look, fellows, my arm is killing me. Can I get some water or something... it might get infected.” Doyle inspected the wrapping Helena had placed over his arrow wound, the blood had soaked the impromptu bandage, and had begun dripping down his fingertips.
While Doyle was distracted, one of the guards answered his request for water with a large wooden bucket full of freezing salt water, dousing his raggedy man disguise. Hit with the sudden shock soaking him, breath was instantly lost, until the salt water soaked into his open wound then he commenced screaming in pain.
“You bastards, if you’re going to kill me just get it over wi--” his sentence, cut short. A blast of wind had blown down the tunnel with sufficient force to heave Doyle back against the cell wall. Dazed, Doyle struggled to clear his vision, the two guards had disappeared. The single torch in the hall vanished along with the two men, plunging Longstreet in total darkness.
“Hell,” Doyle said to the universe struggling back to the cell door. Sticking his head as far as possible he tried to see down the tunnel, his effort was futile.
“Is anybody out there?”
No one answered his cry.
“Don’t leave me down here to starve!”
Again silence.
He rested his head against the bars, to mitigate his growing fever.
“I don’t think there is anyone out there to hear you,” came a soft voice from deeper in the cell.
Doyle turned, there sat an ancient Chinese man, flowing white moustache and beard, it never occurred to him how he could now see in the inky black cell.
Doyle shook his head. “Where did you come from?” Doyle’s vision was blurring.
“I have been here the whole time, you might want to come sit down. The Naga’s venom is quick acting, the more you move the sooner you will die,” he said, motioning for Dolye to sit next to him.
The Detective felt his energy waning, stumbled to join the man on the bench. “Who are you?” Doyle asked, as he slumped next to him.
“Always the detective. You may call me Mister Ao. Are you ready for your journey to the afterlife?”
“No! I am not ready to die. I must get out of here to help Helena. She and Missy are in great danger!”
“You are ready to give up your happy afterlife to help the women? Even if it is your time and you risk losing your place in the heavens?”
“I need to help my friends, isn’t that enough to stay behind?”
“Interesting. Do you love one of the women by the pool?”
“How do know about them, if you were locked up in here?” Doyle’s head slid onto the old man’s shoulder, he did his best to avoid the answer.
“I know a great many things; however, I am always eager to learn more. Helena will be interrogated in time. Now I am trying to determine what should happen to you.”
“Right now, I just want to sleep. Can I sleep? It is hotter than hell in here right now, then I need to go help the ladies.”
“Funny you should use those words.”
Doyle slumped unconscious.
Mister Ao, gently laid the Detective down on the bench, produced a small vial from his common robes, which he proceeded to pour the continents into Doyle’s mouth, then slipped the vial into his ragged uniform pocket. “We will see how this plays out. It might be most interesting,” the old man said before opening the cell door with a wave of his hand.
