Indiana Jones and the Secretof the Sphinx (9 page)

Mystery screamed as the deck slid from beneath her feet.

Indy's hand tightened around her wrist.

She dangled for a moment over the abyss.

"Mysti!" Faye shouted.

"I've got her," Indy said.

At the same moment, Bryce's grip on the cargo hold failed and he plunged feetfirst into the angry sea, his white-jacketed arms windmilling all the way down.

Then Indy pulled Mystery to the protection of his side as the hulk came crashing back down toward the sea.

The storm continued for more than an hour unabated, but the relentless action of the wind and water rendered Indy and the others unconscious long before that. The cargo section of the hull was awash, but remained afloat. As the wind subsided, the hulk grounded itself at the shank of a hookshaped islet.

Faye was the first to come around.

After making sure that Mystery was breathing normally, she untangled herself from the ropes that held her fast to the cargo door and arranged her clothes.

Then she shook Indy.

"Jones," she said. "Wake up."

"I'm awake," he insisted. "Where are we?"

"An island," she said. "It looks uninhabited. Probably uncharted. We've been blown pretty far off course, and I'd be willing to bet we're not in the neighborhood of Shanghai. But the storm's over."

"It couldn't be," Indy said, rubbing his eyes.

"It's so quiet," Faye said. "And look—up there. Clear sky."

"You're kidding."

"No," she said. "And birds flying."

"That storm had to be several hundred miles across," Indy protested. "It can't be over that quickly."

Faye struggled to her knees. She leaned over and patted Mystery on the cheek. The girl's eyes fluttered open, then stared up at her mother for a few long moments.

"Mr. Bryce," Mystery said. "I'm sorry he's gone."

"So am I," Faye said. "But it's almost like he gave himself to the storm so that the rest of us could pass."

"I thought that, too," Mystery said.

"It was a tough break, that's all," Indy said in a hoarse voice as he unlashed himself from the cargo door. "But it's a miracle the three of us survived."

"Four," Musashi said through her exhaustion. "We are four in number. One Imperial officer and three prisoners."

"Sure," Indy said as he pulled his waterlogged hat from his jacket and put it on. "It's still a miracle, any way you want to slice it."

"That may just be the right word," Faye said. "Look."

A double rainbow stretched across the dome of sky behind them.

"It's not over," Indy said, suddenly comprehending. "It's just a reprieve. We're in the eye of the storm. Look down toward the horizon—you can see the wall clouds swirling all around us."

"What do we do now?" Faye asked.

Indy stood up.

Mystery winced sympathetically at the sound of his knees creaking and popping.

"We've got to find a place to ride out the rest of the storm," Indy said and rubbed his shoulder. "And we'd better do it in a hurry. If you look straight above, you can see that the center has already passed over us. The rear of the storm will be coming, and it will be just as fierce as what we've already been through."

"Look," Musashi said.

She was pointing up the beach.

The beach was littered with uprooted trees and other debris from the storm. But rising from a cluster of palm trees in the center of the island was a rough-hewn steeple, and on top of the steeple was a wooden cross.

5
Lazarus Island

The wooden cross was set upon a rocky promontory overlooking a lagoon. Beneath it, built from a cave in the volcanic hillside, was a fortresslike church with great copper-sheathed double doors.

Indy grasped the ring of one of the doors and pulled.

"It's locked," he said.

The wind was picking up, and it had begun to rain again.

"Is it occupied?" Faye asked.

"Somebody locked it from inside," Indy said.

The beach itself was ringed with a few huts, and several deserted outriggers had been pulled high up on the sand. A couple of well-weathered signs in French declared the island a restricted trade zone.

Indy beat on the tarnished copper with his fist, then picked up a chunk of volcanic rock and continued knocking. It began to rain harder. A bolt of lightning struck a palm tree fifty yards down the beach, and the concussion of the blast nearly knocked them down.

"Hey!" Mystery yelled with renewed vigor. "Inside the church! We need shelter!"

The door was suddenly unbolted and swung open by a robed and misshapen figure with a kerosene lantern.

The four scurried into the cavern.

"Thanks," Indy said as he shook water from his hat. "The storm just about got us—again."

"No
entrez,"
the man said.

"Mister, there's a hurricane out there," Mystery said. "Or hadn't you noticed?"

"I notice," the man said in a thick French accent. His voice was coarse, as if he had not spoken in a long time. "The island is restricted. You cannot stay."

"Sorry," Indy said. "But we really don't have a choice. The storm sank our ship."

"Restricted how?" Faye asked.

"Forbidden," the man croaked.

The man put the lantern on the floor. His face was hidden by a bulky hood, and he stepped sharply away when Indy tried to put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry," Indy said. "Look, we'll be no trouble. Four half-drowned castaways seeking refuge from the storm. We'll be on our way as soon as possible. Do you have a radio so that we can send for help?"

"Stay here," the man said.

He left the lantern and walked back into the darkness.

"What was that all about?" Faye asked.

"I don't know," Indy said, "but he must have great night vision."

The storm raged outside and water seeped beneath the double doors and pooled on the flagstones. Indy picked up the lantern from the floor, held it high, and swung it in an arc around them. The flickering light revealed dusty pews jumbled haphazardly together.

"Looks like it's been some time since they've had services here," Indy said.

"It's been years," Faye said.

"I don't like it," Musashi said. She was clutching her arms in an attempt to keep from shivering. "This reminds me of the ghost stories my grandmother tells, where travelers are caught in a storm and seek the shelter of a strange castle. They never turn out well."

Finally, another lantern appeared at the far end of the church and made its way toward them. It was held by a much taller robed man than the first.

"I apologize for Henri," the man said in a French accent. "We don't get many visitors. As a matter of fact, we get no visitors at all. I understand that your ship went down. Are there any other survivors?"

"No," Faye said. "We are all."

"I'm sorry," the man said. "Was it a commercial ship? What line?"

"No line," Indy said. "It was a junk. I'm not even sure what its home port was."

"Then there is no need to send a radio message, or to search for others," he said. "Come, please. We must get you warm and dried off."

The man led them down a flight of stairs into a bunkerlike area outfitted with a long wooden table, a few cots, and a bookcase. He held a candle to the chimney of the kerosene lantern until it ignited, then used the candle to light three others on the long wooden table.

"You will be more than safe here," he said.

"I can hardly hear the storm," Indy said.

"Yes, the order certainly built a fortress for themselves," the man said cheerfully as he fed kindling to the potbellied stove in the center of the room. "This room hasn't been used since the last of the brothers left. It is strange, but the old prohibitions about segregation still hold some sway."

"Pardon me," Indy said. "I don't mean to be rude, but could you tell us where we are?"

The man stopped his work with the stove, unaware that a blotchy forefinger remained in the burgeoning flames.

"Watch out," Indy said as he pulled the man's arm back.

"Damn," the man said as he dashed the fire out against his robes. "You really don't know? You didn't see the signs?"

"They said something about a trade zone," Faye said.

"Yes," the man said slowly as he closed the stove door and sat down on the nearest chair. "This is Lazarus Island. It was founded by the Order of St. Lazarus. It's a leper colony."

"Lepers," Musashi hissed.

"I'm told that I am not that hideous," the man said as he pulled back his hood to reveal a pale, middle-aged face that was normal, except for some pinkish-gray splotches alongside his nose. "My hands, however, are taking a beating. I have no feeling in my fingers, you know. Sorry for the stench of burning flesh."

"That's the restriction," Indy said. "Trade money."

"Yes, we are forced to use trade money," the man continued. "Fear of contagion, you know. At first it was the French, and then when the order fell apart some decades ago, the Americans issued the trade money and enforced the restriction. The church has not been in use since before the Great War."

"So this is a U.S. possession?" Indy asked.

"Nobody will claim Lazarus Island," the man said and laughed. "But they make us use the segregated money anyway, to buy those things we cannot make for ourselves."

"Is it contagious?" Mystery asked.

"I'm sorry," Faye said and clutched her daughter by the shoulders. "Please forgive our manners. Pardon me, but I don't know your name."

"Pascal."

"Monsieur Pascal."

"It is quite all right," he said. "It is contagious, mademoiselle, but it is not spread from such casual contact as exchanging money. Those who live among lepers know that most healthy people have a natural immunity. In fact, many people who are married to lepers never contract the disease. Ignorance, I'm afraid, has done far more damage than the disease itself. "

"Is there a cure?" Mystery asked.

"No," Pascal said. "There is no cure."

"Not yet," Indy said. "But there will be."

"I wish I could believe it," Pascal said. "But, we make do as we can. That is why Henri was so standoffish with you. The penalties for breaking the trade restrictions can be quite severe. Society has not only made us outcasts, I'm afraid, but turned us into criminals as well."

"You're in good company," Indy said.

"How many of you are there?" Faye asked.

"Nearly one hundred," Pascal said. "Mostly men, but some women."

"And you are their representative?" Indy asked.

"Their spokesman, their doctor, their lawyer, and their priest," Pascal said. "Please accept our hospitality. When the storm abates, I will send food. Until then, I suggest you dry your clothes and get some rest. With the exception of one, you are Americans?"

"Yes," Indy said.

"Tomorrow morning, I will attempt to contact the USS
Augusta.
She is the flagship of the Asiatic fleet and has been cruising between here and Shanghai for weeks, in an attempt to show American strength. Perhaps, if she is not too far out, she can pick you up."

"You have a radio," Indy said.

"Of course," Pascal said.

"Nuts," Musashi said.

"Should I also attempt to contact the Imperial—"

"No," Indy said. "And please, don't let this woman near that radio transmitter. Mystery, would you mind doing the honors?"

"Love to," Mystery said. "Got some rope?"

Pascal looked shocked.

"Is that necessary?" Pascal asked.

"Very," Indy said.

"May I at least get out of these clothes?" Musashi asked through chattering teeth. "I'm cold."

"There is another room," Pascal suggested. "A smaller one. It has a door which can be barred from the outside. Like this one, it is underground, and has no other exits. It has a stove as well."

"That will work," Indy said.

"I'll help her," Faye said as she took one of the blankets. "Come on, Mysti. Let's give Dr. Jones some privacy."

"I'd rather stay in here," Mystery said.

"Afraid not," Faye said.

"What about your shoulder?" Pascal asked Indy. "I noticed that you seem to be injured. Is it broken? Do you require medical care?"

"No," Indy said. "Thanks. It will heal, in time."

"As you wish," Pascal said. "Until morning."

Now alone, Indy removed his soaking clothes and hung them over the chairs to dry. Then he wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down on the cot.

He was tired, but he was not yet ready to sleep.

His eyes scanned the dusty volumes in the old bookcase.

Most of the titles were in French, catechisms and lives of the saints. There was a German dictionary with a badly torn cover. The two books in English were the memoirs of U. S. Grant and a copy of the King James Bible.

Indy reached for the Bible.

He blew the dust from its cover, then turned to Exodus.

In his dreams, Indy searched.

Perhaps it was the influence of revisiting the Old Testament before sleep, or the hundred anxious moments of the past few days, or the knowledge of being deep within the earth. For whatever reason, Indy found himself in a biblical landscape of pyramids and idols, sand and sun, searching endless corridors and impossibly serpentined passages for a glimpse of a shadow that remained always just around the next corner.