Look What the Wind Blew In (30 page)

“Nope. I definitely don’t like this plan. Come up with another.”

“According to the divers,” she continued, “the tunnel is about four feet in diameter most of the way.” She didn’t want to think about the section at the end that supposedly narrowed before emptying into the river.

“No, Angélica. Do
not
try it.”

“It’s only about fifteen feet long if I remember right. With your light, I think I can swim both of us through—”

“That’s an insane plan, woman!”

“—the passage and into the river. You can meet me in the cave, and we’ll carry him back to the site.” She waited for another comment from him, but none came. “One more thing, make sure you take the left fork, not the right.”

“Here’s a better, more sensible plan. You wait right there for me to go get help.”

She checked on Esteban. His breathing was too shallow. “We don’t have time for being sensible. I need to get him out of this water. If he stops breathing, he’ll start to sink, and then we’re in big trouble.”

“Christ,” he growled.

“Besides, you were right about my boots. My legs are getting tired. I don’t think I can tread water for another ten minutes while I wait for you. If I go through the tunnel, we could be out of the water in half that time.”

“He can’t hold his breath when he’s out cold. You’re going to drown him taking him under there.”

He had a good point, but by the looks of things, another ten minutes in this water and Esteban would go into shock, and who knew what would happen then. Her odds were better taking the underwater passage. “I know CPR. I can bring him back on the other side if he swallows water. Just meet me in the cave.”

“I can’t! I don’t even know where the damned thing is.”

Oh, hell!
She hadn’t thought about that. “Okay, go back and get Teodoro, Pedro, and Dad. They know where the cave is. While you do that, I’ll take Esteban through the passageway. Tell Teodoro to bring his bag and some blankets. He may have to work on Esteban in the cave if he’s too far gone.”

“There has to be another way.”

“I wish to God there was.”

“I don’t want you to do this.”

“I don’t want to either, but I don’t have much choice.”

She looked around the
cenote
walls, trying to get her bearings, remembering the details of the underwater map. The passageway to the cave was on the north side, the entry point twenty-four feet from the lip of the
cenote
. When the water table was low, and the sun was overhead, she could see it under the surface. Lucky for her, it had been a dry year so far. She shined the light under the water at the wall in front of her, searching left and right.

There it was about five feet down—a dark circle.

“Quint, do you think you can get back to the site without a flashlight?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I’m tired of talking about this.” She shined the light at him. “Now go! And keep an eye out for Rafael on your way. He might have witnessed what happened to Esteban.” She prayed she wouldn’t run into Rafael below the waterline. Dead.

“Okay, I’m going.” Quint shielded his eyes from her light. “But you get your ass in and out of that passage as fast as you can. You understand me, woman? No fucking around in there.”

“Trust me, I won’t dilly dally.”

“Good, because you and I have some unfinished business.” He disappeared from view, leaving her alone with the moon glowing overhead and the water lapping around her.

“Quint was right,” she whispered, drawing Esteban toward her. “This is insane.”

She treaded water for several seconds, trying to build up her courage.

Esteban wheezed next to her and then coughed.

“Esteban.” She shined the light across his profile. “Open your eyes if you can hear me.” She spoke in his native tongue in hopes of getting through to him.

His lids opened a little, then even wider as he looked around. He began to struggle, but he was too weak to do more than squirm in her arms.

“Esteban, be still.”

He obeyed, groaning in pain, staring dully up at her.

“Esteban, listen closely to my words. We’re in the
cenote
. I need to get you out of here, but you’re hurt and the only way out is for me to take you under the water and through a short passageway. We will come out in the river inside the cave.” Fifteen feet was sort of short anyway. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

His eyes started to roll back in his head.

She squeezed one of his arms hard. “No, Esteban! You have to stay awake for me.”

His eyes opened, blinking. He looked dazed but awake.

“You have to hold your breath for thirty seconds. Do you think you can do that?”

He frowned. “Yes,” he said, barely audible.

“Okay. I’m going to count to three. Then I want you to take a deep breath and hold it until you reach the river. We’ll get you up on the bank and help will be there soon.”

She hoped.

She wrapped her arm around his ribcage. “Ready?” Ignoring her pounding heart, she took several quick breaths. “One, two,” she drew in as much air as her lungs could hold, “three!”

She dove under the water, dragging Esteban down with her. She kicked hard, struggling, trying not to lose her grip on the flashlight as she towed him with her. As she swam into the tunnel, she had to let Esteban slide toward her feet. She kept a firm, one-handed grip on his arm, careful not to kick him with her boots as she swam. The current helped to pull them along the passage as it flowed out of the
cenote
into the river.

She pointed the flashlight in front of her. The beam cut through the clear water. Keeping her mind on the task at hand, she tried not to focus on the walls of the passageway getting tighter and tighter.

Up ahead, she saw a dark hole where the tunnel met the river. The divers hadn’t exaggerated. It was a narrow hole. They’d have to squeeze through one at a time to make it.

She was able to move quicker now, using the walls of the passageway to propel them along. She stretched her hand forward and reached for the edge of the dark opening.

Something caught her foot, yanking her backwards.

She bumped into Esteban, sending him into the tunnel wall. A shine of light in his face showed his cheeks puffed out with air, his eyes darting around the tight space.

Angélica tugged on her foot but couldn’t pull free. She looked down, the glow of the flashlight dimmer down by her legs. Her bootlace was snared on something she couldn’t see in the swirling water.

Shit!
Her heart pummeled her ribs, determined to break out and swim to the surface.

She had to get Esteban out of the tunnel, or they were both going to drown in here. Waving her hand in front of his face to get his attention, she pointed toward him and then the hole.

He frowned, pointing back at her.

Angélica shook her head and started pulling him up past her and then pushing him toward the opening. He grabbed the edge of the tunnel and with a final shove from her, squeezed through.

As his feet disappeared from view, fear took hold of her, chilling her to the bone along with the cold water churning and bubbling around her.

Her lungs were starting to burn.

Her legs ached from swimming so long in her damned boots. Her muscles were slowing, starved for oxygen. She probably had twenty more seconds to free herself or she was up shit creek. Or under it.

She shined the beam on her boot, bending down to take a closer look. Her vision blurred, panic trying to take over. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on her boot lace. The loop of her shoestring was lodged in a narrow crevice between a piece of rock jutting out and the cave wall. She tried to tug the string out the way it had gone in, but it wouldn’t budge.

Just her fucking luck! She’d bought these damned industrial strength laces last fall. If only she hadn’t dropped her knife in the
cenote
.

Several bubbles of air escaped through her nose.

Her eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets.

She tried to loosen the double knot, but it wouldn’t give.
Son of a bitch!

She let out several more bubbles, starting to feel a bit lightheaded.

Her ears began to ring.

Grasping the heel of her boot, she tugged down on it, trying to wrench her foot free. But the laces were too tight up top.

She pulled and pushed, slicing her finger on one of the eyehooks.

Panic won, gripping her. Any last bits of control bubbled out and up as she struggled for freedom.

Her lungs were on fire.

Her leg muscles were shaking uncontrollably, along with her arms.

This was not how she’d hoped to leave this world. Not twenty thousand fucking leagues under the
cenote
, damn it!

Burrowing her finger under the laces where they crisscrossed up on the ankle of the boot, she heaved on one of the strings until it felt like it was digging into her fingers. She stretched it as far as she could, and then forced it over the eyelet hook holding it in place, cutting her fingers again. Through her panic, she forced herself to focus and slipped the loose lace over another hook and then another. As soon as she had enough slack near the knot, she freed the other lace, too. When she had the laces unwound from all three sets of hooks, she yanked her foot free of the boot.

Fired up with adrenaline, she swam like demons were at her feet.

She scraped her way through the opening, slamming her knee into the side.

The last of her air bubbled out, the pain in her lungs stabbing, burning a hole clear through them.

Kicking and clawing her way toward the surface, she inhaled. Her body sought oxygen, but she swallowed water instead and kept swimming up, up, and … She breached the surface, erupting into the dark cave.

She coughed out water, gasping on oxygen. Her lungs filled with delicious, musty cave air. Oh, sweet Mother Mary, she was alive.

Holy fuck.

That had been close.

Esteban!

Still coughing out water, she shined the flashlight around her. “Esteban,” she called.

She allowed the flow of the river to carry her along a little way, thinking that he might have passed out again and be floating downstream.

What if she never found him? What if she’d sent him through that hole to his death? She slapped down her fears.

“Esteban, where are you?” she hollered, searching the shoreline.

A low groan came from further up the bank.

There he was sprawled out on the rocks.

She sloshed out of the water and bent over him. “Esteban, we made it.”

“
La cabeza
,” he groaned, reaching up to rub his head.

As his arm passed in front of the flashlight beam, she saw something red on his wrist. Had he cut himself going through the tunnel?

She caught his hand and flipped it over, focusing the light on his palm and then slowly moving it down. Watery blood dripped out of a deep cut in his wrist. Oh, Jesus. How long had he been bleeding?

Then she remembered the rope that had been binding his wrists. Her pulse jumpstarted anew. She grabbed his other wrist and checked it with the light. It also had a horizontal slice across his skin oozing blood.

Esteban went limp in her hands.

She lowered his arm and sat down next to him, pulling him into the warmth of her lap. They were several yards down from the opening that led to the underground cave, but she decided against moving him any further. He was too weak. He’d never make it without more help.

She was running out of time. If Quint hadn’t made it back to the site yet—no! She couldn’t let her mind go there.

She shifted under Esteban’s weight and her tender knee collided with something hard in the back of his pants. Reaching down, she unsnapped his back pocket and pulled out a thin, triangular-shaped stone about the length of her pinkie. Its point had been sharpened.

She wrapped it in her fist. This was some holy fucked up shit!

She peered into the shadows surrounding her, her teeth beginning to clatter. The sound of rushing water drowned out almost everything except her jackhammering heart.

No matter how many ways she tried to bend the truth, she couldn’t deny the evidence before her.

Esteban hadn’t fallen into the
cenote
; he’d been sacrificed.

She had the
tok
to prove it.

* * *

“Good morning, boss lady.”

Angélica lifted her forehead from the table and stared across the mess tent. Quint leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. Except for the dirt stains on the khaki pants that he still wore from the night before, he looked like he’d been touring the site rather than rolling around on the jungle floor with her.

She was so whipped she hadn’t even heard him come in. She tried to smile, straining to lift the edges of her mouth. “How is he?”

“Weak but stable. He’s still unconscious. Teodoro says he doesn’t think Esteban will be capable of answering any questions for a day or two.”

“Did he say anything about Pedro flying him to the hospital in Cancun?”

“No. Juan said Teodoro is insisting the boy will be okay after some rest and a visit to the little clinic at the village.”