hip to hip on a mixture of small stones and dirt. No more than five feet wide and four feet tall. Located in a remote gully it had a sturdy metal grate that locked in place across the front, seriously resembling a cage for a wild animal.
“Someone was probably searching for gold and started digging around this giant boulder. That’s why it’s such an odd shape. Rock above and below us, dirt all around.”
Part of the rock was still jutting out of the so-called ceiling. Nick insisted on keeping it on his side. He also insisted on placing her at the back of the miniature cave. She would rather have been at the grate, watching their guards, searching for a way out.
“Or our friends out there just came onto park reserve land, discovered the beginnings of a hole in the side of a hill, put a grate in front of it and found themselves the perfect torture camp.” His voice was low and gravely, sounding tired. “No one comes through this area, so they can pretty much do what they want. Ow, that smarts.”
She was certain he was making fun of her question. Their captors had severely beaten him. More than once. The cut wasn’t a laughing matter.
“I can’t get the wound on the back of your head clean. If I use my fingers to pick the pebbles out... Well, my fingers are so dirty I’d probably be doing more harm than good.” She squished herself backward. “Let me have the water to rinse it.”
“No. We need to stay hydrated. It’ll be okay,” he said, tugging her hand away from the water bottle one of the men had tossed through the metal grate. “Get comfortable, honey. It’s going to be a long night. My cut doesn’t matter.”
Nick didn’t have to say why it didn’t matter. He thought they were going to kill them—or at least him. At this moment, she couldn’t argue that point. They were keeping them alive for someone and some reason. She wanted to be optimistic, but escaping from this hole didn’t seem probable.
After one very long day, Beth was tired of breathing the smell of damp dirt on all sides of them. She’d never been an earthy kind of girl. Even the idea of her mother’s patio garden escaped her.
A yoga mat and the strong smell of a chlorine pool would have been extremely hard to resist. She longed for a good stretch. Neither she nor Nick could sit with their backs straight because of the jagged ceiling. They couldn’t extend their cramped extra-long legs. The only time they had relief from sitting on the hard rock was when the men dragged Nick outside the small hole to beat him.
Nick’s wounds were getting worse. Each punch to his face broke open the previous scrapes. She hadn’t known it was possible to bruise on top of a bruise. But the evidence was wrapped around her like a pretzel—the only way they both fit in the man-made cave.
Maneuvering wasn’t easy, but they shifted to where they were sort of in each other’s arms.
“This space is so tight it would be intolerable if we didn’t like touching each other. At least they gave us back our coats.” She arched her back, hitting her head on a protruding rock. “Ow.”
“I’m glad you still have a sense of humor about all this.” He pulled her in close against his light tan shirt that didn’t hide any of the blood drips.
Some of his blood had stained her creamy yellow top. The very distinguishable smell of blood was easy to ignore mixed with their musk and dirt surroundings. She concentrated on Nick’s body, searching for sore spots or wounds. She felt how relaxed and accepting he was. Or maybe they’d knocked his head one too many times and he was injured. He might not even know it.
“Are you nauseated at all?” She rubbed the back of her head. “I wonder if you have a concussion. Should you stay awake? Then again I think they changed that rule and you can sleep, but I have to make sure you wake up. But if you won’t wake up, then what’s the point of letting you fall asleep to wake you up later? That seems like
“Someone was probably searching for gold and started digging around this giant boulder. That’s why it’s such an odd shape. Rock above and below us, dirt all around.”
Part of the rock was still jutting out of the so-called ceiling. Nick insisted on keeping it on his side. He also insisted on placing her at the back of the miniature cave. She would rather have been at the grate, watching their guards, searching for a way out.
“Or our friends out there just came onto park reserve land, discovered the beginnings of a hole in the side of a hill, put a grate in front of it and found themselves the perfect torture camp.” His voice was low and gravely, sounding tired. “No one comes through this area, so they can pretty much do what they want. Ow, that smarts.”
She was certain he was making fun of her question. Their captors had severely beaten him. More than once. The cut wasn’t a laughing matter.
“I can’t get the wound on the back of your head clean. If I use my fingers to pick the pebbles out... Well, my fingers are so dirty I’d probably be doing more harm than good.” She squished herself backward. “Let me have the water to rinse it.”
“No. We need to stay hydrated. It’ll be okay,” he said, tugging her hand away from the water bottle one of the men had tossed through the metal grate. “Get comfortable, honey. It’s going to be a long night. My cut doesn’t matter.”
Nick didn’t have to say why it didn’t matter. He thought they were going to kill them—or at least him. At this moment, she couldn’t argue that point. They were keeping them alive for someone and some reason. She wanted to be optimistic, but escaping from this hole didn’t seem probable.
After one very long day, Beth was tired of breathing the smell of damp dirt on all sides of them. She’d never been an earthy kind of girl. Even the idea of her mother’s patio garden escaped her.
A yoga mat and the strong smell of a chlorine pool would have been extremely hard to resist. She longed for a good stretch. Neither she nor Nick could sit with their backs straight because of the jagged ceiling. They couldn’t extend their cramped extra-long legs. The only time they had relief from sitting on the hard rock was when the men dragged Nick outside the small hole to beat him.
Nick’s wounds were getting worse. Each punch to his face broke open the previous scrapes. She hadn’t known it was possible to bruise on top of a bruise. But the evidence was wrapped around her like a pretzel—the only way they both fit in the man-made cave.
Maneuvering wasn’t easy, but they shifted to where they were sort of in each other’s arms.
“This space is so tight it would be intolerable if we didn’t like touching each other. At least they gave us back our coats.” She arched her back, hitting her head on a protruding rock. “Ow.”
“I’m glad you still have a sense of humor about all this.” He pulled her in close against his light tan shirt that didn’t hide any of the blood drips.
Some of his blood had stained her creamy yellow top. The very distinguishable smell of blood was easy to ignore mixed with their musk and dirt surroundings. She concentrated on Nick’s body, searching for sore spots or wounds. She felt how relaxed and accepting he was. Or maybe they’d knocked his head one too many times and he was injured. He might not even know it.
“Are you nauseated at all?” She rubbed the back of her head. “I wonder if you have a concussion. Should you stay awake? Then again I think they changed that rule and you can sleep, but I have to make sure you wake up. But if you won’t wake up, then what’s the point of letting you fall asleep to wake you up later? That seems like
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