Part 4 (1/2)
Slowly she rose.
Earthquake?
No, but high above them she heard the mountain give a deep-throated rumble.
”Phil, did you hear that?”
”Yeah. So? It does that all the time.” He planted his knees in the dust of sacrifice. ”What happened to the body? Did the air make it disintegrate? I wonder whatas hidden in the clothes?”
Sacrilege. Sacrilege!
”Phil, donat!” Another rumble shook the air, and a huge crack sounded as the mountainas bones broke. ”Phil, come on. Itas dangerous here.”
”In a minute.”
The urge to stop him warred with the need to escape. She was poised on her toes, ready to run. ”The mountainas coming down!”
”Look at the gold they buried with this kid!” He dug through the remains.
She tugged on his shoulder. ”Weave got to run!”
He turned on her, his lips drawn back, his teeth glistening with spit. ”Run, then. This is mine!”
Shocked by the demon of greed that peered from his red-rimmed eyes, she jumped back. Glanced up. Saw the dust of the ma.s.sive rockfall shuddering toward her. Heard the sound of tons of stone descending the mountain. Realized that Mount Anaya had at last decided to crush them and their presumption.
She ran. Ran as hard and as fast as she could away from this place. From the heart of evil.
The ground shuddered. The noise rose, a cacophony of shattering stone and a roar that sounded like . . . like a motor.
A big, black motorcycle cut in front of her. Stopped. The stranger, the man whoad watched her from above, sat on the seat, his eyes ablaze with urgency. He s.n.a.t.c.hed her around the waist, pulled her on behind him.
She grasped him.
He hit the accelerator.
They tore across the site, the bike hitting holes and rocks. The front tire danced to a crazy beat. He couldnat control the machine. He was going to kill them.
But he stood on the pedals. He skidded, leaned, avoided.
She wanted to scream in fear. And maybe she did. Then a glance behind them made her lean forward, urging him faster.
For the rockfall chased them, fueled by gravity and the mountainas spite. Boulders as big as buildings slammed behind them like a stone giantas footsteps, each one coming closer . . . closer. Anaya groaned with exertion. Dust rose, obscuring the sky, the site . . . Phil.
Phil had disappeared, crushed somewhere within the ma.s.sive pile of rock.
Mount Anaya had once again protected the heart of evil.
Turning her head away, she pressed her face into the leather jacket.
He smelled of cold water, fresh air, and wildness.
She started.
She knew that scent. Shead dreamed about it every night.
This was her lovera”not a dream, as she hoped; not madness, as she feared; but a man of daring and courage.
Of course. Who else would defy death to rescue her?
Desperately, she clung to him as Mount Anaya threw its final efforts into their destruction, bouncing boulders like huge rubber b.a.l.l.s. The stones collided with one another, smas.h.i.+ng into ma.s.sive shards, sharp and evil. Slivers of rock battered her. Millions of tons of granite obliterated the old paths, the embattled plants, all evidence of the past.
The motorcycle reached the far side of the valley.
The dust cloud enveloped them.
The ground rose.
Each collision of boulder against earth rattled the bike and broke the ground.
Mount Anaya had won. Death had them in its grasp when the motorcycle broke over the top of the promontory and flew through the aira”into nothingness.
Chapter Five.
Karen screamed in earnest.
Her lover roared in defiance.
The bike landed hard in a pile of rubble. The back wheel skidded. He corrected. Accelerated. And they drove away from the mountain, leaving it behind to mutter and rumble in murderous frustration.
The rough path took them away from Mount Anaya. They descended in fits and starts, dodging through crooked pa.s.ses and splas.h.i.+ng through tiny streams. Although the alt.i.tude was still high and the air thin, the terrain changed. First tiny flowers and tufts of gra.s.s softened the stony austerity. Then the occasional tree grew, digging its roots into the thin soil. The hope so conspicuously missing from Mount Anaya existed and intensified with every mile they drove. Finally Karenas lover turned the bike straight up a hill, slammed down on the accelerator, and drove like a demon to the top, around a curve . . . and stopped in a narrow, hidden meadow bounded by mountains.
He turned off the motor.
The sudden silence was shocking.
Karenas ears still rang from the din that accompanied the landslide, from the roar of the bike, and now she could hear a stream babbling, a bird singing . . . sounds so normal and sweet, she wanted to weep with joy.
The mountain hadnat killed them. It had done its best, but she was alive. They were alive.
She slid off the seat. Her b.u.t.t still vibrated from their wild ride. Her knees wobbled alarmingly.
Shead almost died.
She sank to the ground. The scent of crushed gra.s.s filled her head, and for a brief moment she leaned over and kissed the ground. Smiling, she glanced up at him. ”Thank you,” she said. ”Thank you.”