Shifting the LED flashlight to his left hand in order to point the way, Corbett started down. Moving together, they began to make their way along the steep, treacherous incline. In the lead, Corbett attempted to shuffle his feet, knocking the rocks and debris out of the way, clearing a path so that Tariq would not trip or stumble as they went. It was slow going, especially at places where the ledge had been worn away by time and erosion. After what seemed like an eternity, they managed to traverse the entire ledge and were finally standing on the floor of the main chamber when Corbett heard them: from somewhere in the darkness high above, the sound of voices speaking in Urdu.
Tariq looked to Corbett, who immediately shut off the light. Waiting in silence, they listened for confirmation.
*****
Having left Buttar and the others to press the attack on the camp and execute the remaining unbelievers, Jarral motioned to a Jihadi called Raif to come with him. Together, they started up the mountain toward the cave. In his left hand, Raif gripped one of the five-foot kerosene torches he had taken from the camp perimeter. His right held a Kalashnikov.
Moving past the heat coming off the flaming wreckage of the helicopter, they slipped into the darkness of the cave’s entrance. Jarral held his Uzi with both hands. Had Tariq died in the explosion? Or had he somehow escaped? Jarral needed to be sure. With the peshkabz still strapped to his side, he longed to take Tariq’s head. Ultimate proof of his devotion.
From the moment they set foot inside the cave, Jarral felt at home. It reminded him of the caves of the Borderlands back home. It spoke to him of the cave called Hira on the mountain known as Jabal an-Nour. If Tariq were somewhere within this cave, Jarral was certain that Allah, the most benevolent, would lead them to him.
Standing at the edge of the abyss, Jarral waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and his ears to become attuned to the sounds of the vast emptiness below. At first, nothing. And then the sound of the scrape of a rock. A flash of light below. Jarral stared hard into the gaping maw.
“There,” he said, suddenly pointing down toward a pair of fleeting figures inching their way along the cave wall. Instantly, he knew there had to be a way down. His eyes followed their movement, two phantoms barely discernible in the blackness as they reached the floor of the main chamber.
Resting the kerosene torch against the limestone wall, Raif raised his Kalashnikov and opened fire.
*****
Corbett grabbed Tariq by his shirt and pulled him back beneath the rock outcropping. A moment later, the familiar sound of a Kalashnikov echoed off the walls as bullets splintered the stone around them. Without question, whoever was up there had managed to pinpoint them by spotting their light as they made their descent. The more pressing questions, however, were how many and would they try to follow?
“They’ve seen us…!” Tariq spoke in a forced whisper, his voice laced with fear. “We’re trapped.”
“No. Listen to me! Do not panic. You understand…? Stay cool.” Corbett replied. His words were measured and in control. “Just do as I say. I want you to place your hands on my shoulders and when I move, you follow.”
Another burst of gunfire rained down from above. The signature sound of an Uzi as it sprayed the rocks around them. So, there are two, Corbett thought, sensing Tariq’s mounting fear.
“We just need to wait them out.”
“Them…?”
“From the sound of it, there are at least two. Once the shooting stops, we’ll give it a couple of minutes then move. Got it?” Corbett hesitated, waiting for Tariq to respond. When he didn’t, Corbett asked again, “You understand?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly at last. “I do. I understand. The gunfire spooked me – I wasn’t ready. Just give me a minute. I’ll be okay.” Corbett waited. The voices above continued followed by the sound of shuffling steps as their pursuers began to make their way down into the void, moving deliberately, just as they themselves had done, making their way along the ledge. Abruptly another burst of gunfire slammed into the rock walls, then nothing. As the seconds ticked by, Corbett watched and waited.
****
Beneath the wall of paintings no longer visible in the darkness, Ella lay still, listening, uncertain, confused. Having awakened to total blackness, she was afraid to move. Her head still throbbed from striking the rock overhang. What if she attempted to rise? Would she hit her head again? And what happened to the lights? Thinking back, she remembered the strange thrumming sound of an engine followed by an explosion. Whatever it was must have taken out the generator. Which meant she was a prisoner of the darkness. Like being buried alive. Would anyone even think to look for her? And how would they reach her trapped so far underground? How could this be happening? Her mind spinning, she thought of her mother and tried to remember the last time she had taken the time to write a real letter. Had she told her how much she loved her? And all the things she had put off doing in order to spend this summer in Spain. Always taking for granted there would be time to do them all. The trips she had yet to take. The places she still hoped to see. It was all so unfair. But if life was unfair, why should death be any different?
Lost in her own thoughts, she almost failed to hear the sound of someone moving through the darkness, coming her way. Instantly, she stopped breathing, straining to listen. The
