Broken Angel (22 page)

FORTY-SIX

W
here the tunnel ended in a void, Mason discovered the source of the roar.

A waterfall a dozen steps from the end of the tunnel. He played his flashlight across it and noticed a turbine. This must be what powered the Clan’s energy needs. The water was a thin, wide curtain, flowing hard and fast, disappearing into the darkness at the end of his flashlight beam. He flicked the light to his right. The rock was smooth and vertical.

Mason gave little thought to the incredible natural phenomenon of an underground river that, over millennia, had carved sheer tubes through soft limestone over a waterfall deep inside the mountain. He was a hunter. Hunting, surveying his surroundings, and evaluating.

Ahead of him, the chasm was black, but there was a heavy iron hook embedded into each side of the tunnel, with a loop of thick rope on each.

He flicked his beam along the rope to his left. It was a guide rope, matching the one on the other side. Wooden slats hung from shorter pieces of rope, forming the bottom of a bridge. The slats were tied together with short loops, a couple of inches between each. Mason shivered at the thought of stepping into the chasm trusting only those slats. He could slip through the side of the bridge and fall. The darkness pressed against him even in his thrill at being so close to his goal.

With his light, he illuminated the bridge and froze Caitlyn in place, throwing a giant shadow onto the sheer rock wall on the other side of the chasm. She was turned sideways, and Mason imagined for a moment that she was a humpbacked monster. It only lasted for that moment, because Caitlyn immediately used the light to help her find better footing on the rope bridge and began to scramble away, sending the bridge swaying. She was limping badly, and Mason smiled.

Mason flicked the beam past Caitlyn, trying to anticipate her escape route. It was easy to see.

The chasm was maybe fifty feet across. The tunnel that Mason had been following did not continue on the other side. Instead, there was a narrow ledge, with that sheer rock face behind it.

His flashlight beam found a ladder beside the bridge, also made of rope, hanging down the rock face, leading to another ledge about a hundred feet down. And from that second ledge, another rope ladder led to a third ledge. His beam was not powerful enough to reach completely into the depths, but Mason guessed there was a series of rope ladders all the way to the bottom. Why else would she be here but to escape from the mines?

To confirm his guess, a steady breeze blew upward from the depths. The air flow would not be this strong unless there was a way out at the bottom, maybe another tunnel.

Mason assessed his chances of crossing the rope bridge. On his side the ends of the bridge could simply be lifted from the iron hooks holding them in place. If he unhooked the rope, Caitlyn would be flung against the wall and tumble hundreds of feet into the darkness. But because of the deal he’d made with Bar Elohim, he wanted her captured, not dead. Worse, without the bridge to cross the chasm, he’d be stranded on this side, with the one way to safety destroyed by the explosion and an impossible labyrinth of tunnels as his only hope for escape.

With another flick of the beam across the chasm, he confirmed that the bridge was also looped on similar iron hooks at Caitlyn’s end.

If she had arrived minutes earlier, after crossing she could have lifted those loops and let the bridge fall, uselessly secured only on Mason’s end. He would have had no way across.

As it was, he briefly wondered if she had the capacity to release the rope with him on it. He told himself she didn’t. He would walk the bridge, and she wouldn’t remove the loops. Unless she had a knife. He had to trust his instincts that if she did, she’d have it out. What choice did he have? There was victory ahead.

He snarled at his fear and took a step onto the bridge. The air seemed colder, and spray from the waterfall splashed his face. His backpack thumped loosely against his ribs. It was comforting in a way, reminding him that once he filled the canister, he’d have what he wanted. That thought helped him drive past his fear.

On the other side, he’d be able to do what Caitlyn couldn’t. He’d drop the bridge and ensure his own escape, just in case the soldiers tracked him via another tunnel. They’d never be able to cross the chasm, and he could take his time moving down the series of ladders to the bottom.

The problem was, as he quickly discovered, he’d miscalculated.

The footing was trickier than he’d expected, because the bottom of the bridge was made of webbed rope and wooden slats. Waist high on each side, rope as thick as his wrist gave him the same guides that it gave Caitlyn, only he was at a disadvantage. He had only one hand to clutch the rope because he held the flashlight in the hand at the end of his cast.

The bridge swayed and twisted sideways, and Mason gasped. Without the strangled grip of his good hand, he would have plunged over. As it was, panic forced him to drop the flashlight and clutch for the other guide rope with his injured arm. He flailed, ignoring the pain, and managed to find the other rope.

Eerily, the flashlight tumbled in silence, the light shrinking until it disappeared. Not because the flashlight smashed as it hit bottom, but because the depth of the chasm simply swallowed it.

That sent him into another bout of panic and paralysis. Mason panted with horror and almost wept as he waited for the bridge to stop the pendulum swing from side to side.

If he waited too long, she’d be across. And if she decided to lift the bridge off the hooks, the bridge would simply become a ladder with him hanging on, thousands of feet from the bottom of an abyss, until he lost his strength and let go. That thought galvanized him, and he staggered forward, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering. If he were far enough across, she wouldn’t be able to lift his weight.

Step by step, palms sweating, he advanced, grateful that he couldn’t see below him, trying to keep his imagination at bay.

Then light again.

Caitlyn’s.

She’d crossed and now pointed her headlamp toward him. She shined it on Mason, and the light pierced his eyes. He directed his snarl at her.

The beam moved away and illuminated the end of the rope bridge, secured by heavy iron hooks, on her side. She began to struggle to pull it loose. Her figure was a blurred outline of shadow and light.

As he guessed, she didn’t have the physical strength to unhook the bridge with his weight on it.

He moved forward another couple of steps but with less urgency than before. Now she was down to two options. Wait for him on the ledge or begin climbing down the rope ladder beside the bridge, slowed by her injured leg. Even with one arm in a cast, he’d be able to follow, and then, because of her injured ankle, it was only a matter of time until he caught up with her.

Her beam turned to the edge of the ledge, and Mason saw Caitlyn squat and examine the top of the rope ladder. The beam marked her downward progress. Something looked strange about her back. It didn’t matter, though, as he’d kill her first and examine her later.

The light would also help him find the ladder.

Ten steps left, he guessed.

Down to five.

Then he was on the ledge.

Because of the contrast of the darkness against Caitlyn’s light, Mason had no difficulty seeing the loops of the thick rope that held the bridge in place on the iron hooks.

He lifted them and let go.

With a swish, the bridge fell away. Seconds later, he heard it slap against the far side of the chasm.

Now the tunnels behind him were no longer an issue. Nor the soldiers, if they found a way around the destroyed headquarters. No way for them to cross should they make it this far. No way for them to reattach the bridge on this side.

With a grim smile, Mason echoed Caitlyn’s actions only a minute earlier.

He squatted and found the top of the rope ladder, held in place by iron hooks similar to those that had held the rope bridge in place. With his good hand, Mason held tight and felt his way down.

In seconds, he was vertical and able to also use the hand of his casted arm to hold himself secure. Unlike the bridge, this ladder didn’t sway. He began the descent.

The beam below him brightened.

He looked down but saw only a circle of light. Caitlyn had pointed the headlamp upward, catching him in the beam as he had caught her earlier, and now she would see that he was close.

Nothing would stop him now.

FORTY-SEVEN

B
ecause of her injured ankle’s restricted movement, Caitlyn knew that Mason could travel faster down the ladders than she could. Climbing one ladder wouldn’t matter much, but a series of ladders were ahead.

Jordan had explained to Caitlyn what remained of her journey. The ladders descended hundreds of feet. Then a bridge would take her across the river at the bottom, back to the side that she’d started from.

But she knew that eventually, at this pace, Mason would catch her on one of the ledges. Even if she somehow managed to stay ahead of him, even if she managed to get across the bridge at the bottom of the chasm, she faced the same problem she hadn’t been able to overcome on the first rope bridge. While the plan had been for her to cross the top of the chasm and then drop the bridge to seal off any pursuers, with Mason’s weight, it had been impossible. She didn’t see it happening any differently below.

If she didn’t stop Mason somehow, he’d cross the river again at the bottom and discover what so many people had already made such a sacrifice to hide.

And she could hear Papa’s words.
“You can’t be taken, dead or alive. You must not fall into their hands.”

No, even if it meant her own life, she had no choice.

When she reached the second ledge at the bottom of the first ladder, she didn’t begin scrambling down the next ladder.

Instead, she removed her cloak, set it down, and waited for Mason.

Mason lightly stepped onto the second ledge and slowly turned. He expected to move slowly, even crawl, as he searched for the hooks that held the next rope ladder.

He didn’t expect a beam directly in his face. Caitlyn was still on this ledge.

“I heard you release the bridge up there,” she told him, her volume raised above the water cascading past the ledge.

Mason snorted, then spoke, raising his voice too. “I want you for myself. All alone.”

He reached down with his good hand and unsheathed his knife. Mason didn’t move forward. He could at any time, of course. But it was too much pleasure to savor this. Nor did he want to risk any sudden moves. Not until he knew where the edge of the ledge was.

“Stop,” she said. “Without that bridge for you to get back, your life is going to depend on what I explain to you.”

“I’m sure I’ll find my way out.” Mason scraped his thumb against the knife blade to test the sharpness. “Without your help.”

“The only way out is down,” she answered from behind the light. “More ladders. Like the one above you. I’m holding the ladder from this ledge right now. I unhooked it while I was waiting for you. If I drop it, you’ll be stuck here.”

Mason snorted again. “I don’t believe you.”

“Think about it,” she said. “If I know you’re going to kill me, what difference does it make how I die? Move toward me, and I throw the ladder away as I jump. Dying that way is quicker and less painful than facing your knife.”

Mason knew she was telling the truth. His mouth tasted like it had filled with ashes. His knife hand shook.

“So get rid of the knife and climb back to the top and wait,” she said. “All I want is a head start. Let me get to the bottom. If you start chasing me again, I’ll do this again at the next ledge. Whether you’re trapped here or one or two ledges below, it doesn’t matter. You’ll still be trapped.”

“You expect me to let you escape.”

“We both live,” she said, “or we both die. Your choice.”

The light shifted away from his face. It lowered, showing the dark shadow of her lower body on the rock floor of the ledge. He focused on the thick iron hooks, where the loops of the rope ladder should have been.

Nothing. She hadn’t lied. The ladder is gone.

The light shifted to her feet. She’d placed the loops around her left ankle, the leg closest to the ledge, and her heel was off the ground. If she moved slightly, the weight of the rope would slide down her foot. The ladder would be gone. Mason croaked, like the low croak of a raven that had wrapped its talons around his throat. In that instant, he fully understood the horror of it. Trapped. No food. No water. If she jumped, he would not even have light. The worms of terror began crawling under his skin.

“If you were on the other side,” she said, “this wouldn’t have happened. But the others can’t be found.”

“Others?” Mason wanted the conversation to continue, because he’d just noticed something. She’d made a mistake. The drop-off was to her left, but straight behind her was a sheer rock face. She was only ten feet away. If she fell backward, he’d have her.

Keep her talking.
He shifted the knife slightly.

“Bar Elohim did not win,” she said.

“The soldiers captured everyone,” he answered.
Keep her talking.
“You saw that.”

“The Clan has not been destroyed.”

He wanted her. Dead. He wasn’t going to retreat. He shifted the knife slightly. What he was going to do was fire it into her chest. She’d fall backward. Forward, the rope ladder would slide off her ankle. Backward, it would go up her leg. He’d be on top of her before she could move.

“You can’t do it.” He moved a step toward her, intending to distract her by talk and by movement. “You don’t have the steel to jump. You’re just a girl. You want to live so bad, you won’t drop that ladder.”

“You’re wrong,” she said.

With the snakelike quickness that had always given him so much pride, he snapped his wrist, firing the knife through the air, expecting to track her fall by the way the light moved.

There was a barely discernible thud above the noise of the water. She cried out in pain.

Mason leaped forward, but the light didn’t move backward. It moved sideways. Out into the chasm! Plummeting into the darkness.

She jumped.

Then Mason blinked in disbelief as the light defied gravity, as if it had landed on an invisible hand, and then it began to turn in a slow circle.