The Aleppo Code (The Jerusalem Prophecies) (47 page)

It started as a skid. Momentarily weakened by the blow to his midsection, Rizzo’s hands reached for substance as his head and shoulders dipped into the descending chute. As his body started to slide down the slope, the water his boots carried from the leap inside the tunnel ran down his legs, further soaking his still damp pants. The smooth clay, worn by centuries of flowing water, became slick—like ice.

Rizzo’s body picked up speed, falling headfirst, down the shaft.

Arms, legs, knees, elbows all vainly tried to act as brakes for the runaway Rizzo. For a heartbeat he slowed. Then gravity exerted its law.

“Aaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhh!”

They were all exhausted, dripping wet, and ready to collapse. But this was no time to sit and wait. Flashlights bobbed and boots pounded on the far side of the dark. Rodriguez grabbed Bohannon’s sopping shirt by the shoulders. “Let’s—”

“Aaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhh!”

Rodriguez’s ears were ringing. And for a moment he thought he was crazy.

“It’s Sam!”

The shaft got steeper. And Rizzo dropped into the blackness like a rock.

Hunched over in the lowering space, Rodriguez led the way as they slipped along the passage. He held Rizzo’s MagLite close to his shirt, giving him a dim view of what was ahead and, hopefully, a more difficult target for their pursuers.

With the rupturing abruptness of a skidding car against a fire hydrant, Rizzo slammed to a stop. The straps of his backpack jerked his shoulders back and snapped his head into the roof of the now much-more-narrow channel.

His scream made his ears hurt.

Rizzo’s head and arms had gotten through a narrowing in the shaft, but his shoulders and the pack on his back acted like emergency brakes. His shoulders throbbed from the violence of the crash. It hurt to breathe, as if he was getting stabbed in the lungs. Blood dripped into his eyes.

He fought hard to remain conscious. He forced a swallow to hold his vomit in check. He flexed his fingers, arms, and legs—just to make sure they still worked.

And he felt the steady rain of water falling down the course behind him.

“Awww, come on, will ya!” he shouted into the dark. “Give me a break!”

Rodriguez skidded to a halt, and Bohannon ran right into his back, tripped over his own feet, and fell to the wet floor of the tunnel. On his injured shoulder.

“That’s Sammy! Look around. We’ve got to risk it. Look around.”

His eyes closed, Rizzo tried once again to rein in the panic attack that bubbled up in his chest like a sudden illness. He pulled in a deep breath to calm his nerves, but the shooting pain in his side pierced any growing calm and jolted his eyes wide open.

“Sam! Sam, we can hear you!”

Water falling like rain around him, Rizzo saw moving light through an opening at the base of the shaft.
It’s Joe!
“Hey!” The yell sent a shiver of pain through Rizzo’s ribs. “Oww!”

At first Rodriguez thought the water on the floor was coming from the overflow of the raging river in their wake. But as he swept his MagLite in great, frantic arcs up and down the walls, he saw more water coming from an opening up ahead. The opening was down near the floor, on the right side of the shaft, like the opening of a small cave. Rodriguez threw himself on his knees and skidded to a stop just in front of the cave. He shoved his arm with the flashlight into the opening and carefully peeked under the lintel. “Sammy?”

“Will you get that stupid light out of my eyes? What, do you think you’re the cave police?”

“Sammy!” A lump gathered in Rodriguez’s throat, a lightness fluttered in his chest, and an urgent and grateful prayer erupted from his heart. Bohannon and his wife pressed in at the entrance while Rodriguez struggled into the cave. Rizzo was hanging upside-down, halfway through a narrow opening, maybe ten feet above Rodriguez. Steady rivulets of water rolled down Rizzo’s body from several locations, falling into Rodriguez’s upturned face.

“Are you hurt?”

“I think I cracked a rib. Hurts to breathe.”

“Can you move?”

“My arms and legs still work, thank God. But the rest of me is stuck. I fell, and I’m wedged in here. I don’t think I can move. And I feel like I’ve been in a car wreck.”

“Okay,” said Joe. “Close your eyes for a minute.”

Rodriguez ran the beam from the MagLite around the space that imprisoned Rizzo. There were small openings, enough for the water to run through, but Rizzo appeared to be wedged tight against the walls on all sides. His arms and head were through the narrow opening, and his shoulders were slightly protruding. But from his collarbone back, Rizzo was stuck on the other side of the stricture. Rodriguez made note of the blood dripping from Rizzo’s forehead. He turned off the light.

“Hang in there, Sam. I’ll be right back.”

Rodriguez heard the mumble as he pulled himself out of the opening. “Hang in there? A wise guy. Always a wise guy.”

Two anxious faces, and more water moving along the tunnel, were waiting for Rodriguez.

“He’s hanging upside down, stuck in a narrow portion of the shaft. His arms and head are through the narrowing, but he’s stuck from his shoulders back. More water’s coming down on top of him. Said he fell, but I don’t know from where, or how far.”

Annie reached out and touched Joe’s arm. “Is he hurt?”

Rodriguez nodded his head. “Yeah. Sounds like he cracked a rib. And he’s bleeding from his head somewhere. But he looks terrible. His eyes are wild looking, and his face is pale. I’d say he’s not far from shock, or hypothermia, or both. We need to get him out of there.”