“It better not be,” Dane gasped. “I don’t have much left.” The earth trembled again, and Dane staggered to his right. He heard Kaylin grunt as she slammed into the side wall.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Keep moving.”
They turned another corner, and Dane could see that the tunnel ended up ahead. He felt the damp cool of the well shaft, and smelled the moist air. Both were welcome to his senses.
Reaching the end of the tunnel, Bones pointed to the handholds in the wall of the well. “You first,” he said. “Don’t argue with me, Maddock!” he shouted as Dane opened his mouth to protest.
Dane saw there was no point in arguing. He found two handholds and a foothold and began his ascent. He did not bother to look up. The memory of his fall down the well was fresh in his mind, and he knew how deep it was. Tired as he felt, if he were to actually see how far he had to climb, he would be tempted to give up and let himself fall back into the cool, inviting arms of the river.
One handhold at a time, one foot at a time, he scaled the cold, slick stone wall. Twice, he nearly lost his grip as the well shaft undulated with the tremors. Both times, Kaylin’s voice spoke from beneath him.
“If you fall, I fall too,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “No pressure.”
Dane climbed higher. Pieces of the well shaft broke away as the underground complex continued its collapse. Chunks of rock struck him on the head and arms, but he no longer felt pain. He wanted to live.
He was surprised when he finally reached for a handhold and found only air. He was so taken aback, in fact, that he nearly lost his remaining hand grip. Clutching the edge of the well, he drew himself up and over the side, and fell heavily to the floor. With the last of his strength, he stood and offered a helping hand first to Kaylin, then to Bones. Arms linked, the three of them ran from Goliath’s tomb.
The bright morning sun was a shock to Dane’s eyes as he stumbled out into daylight. The dry, dusty air burned his nostrils. A number of diggers were gathered outside the tomb, and they stared in astonishment as the friends appeared from within the heaving bowels of the earth. The shock wore off quickly, and several of them rushed forward to lead Dane and his friends away from the collapsing tomb.
A safe distance away, Dane turned and fell heavily to the ground. He sat and watched as a cloud of dust poured forth from within the stone sepulchre. With a final heave, the entire plateau fell in upon itself.
He stared in numb disbelief. The sword was gone. Meriwether was gone as well, with naught to mark his passing but a pile of rock. There was no tomb, no temple. It was as if none of it had ever been there. As far as Dane was concerned, that was the case.
EPILOGUE
The sun shone bright across the green expanse of Arlington cemetery. The white headstones, arrayed with military precision, gleamed like polished buttons on a uniform. Many considered it an honor to be buried here. Bones, of course, thought it was bland and lacking the individuality that he so valued. He had already planned his own memorial, and intended his cremated remains to be sprinkled into ashtrays at his favorite Vegas casinos and adult entertainment establishments.
Dane had warned Bones that he had better produce offspring, because Dane was not about to carry out those final wishes. The picture of himself at eighty years old, tottering through a strip club with a bag of ashes in one hand and a cane in the other nearly made him smile.
Returning his thoughts to the present, he watched in silence as the honor guard folded the flag and presented it to Melinda Wells, Meriwether’s granddaughter and only living relative. She accepted it with a firm nod of thanks.
She’s got her grandfather’s spirit, Dane thought. As the uniformed men and women marched away, his gaze fell to the small mound of earth where they had interred Meriwether’s dog tags, along with an urn containing the ashes of Rienzi’s bible.
The minister, a short, stocky young fellow with a voice much too big for his body, said a few words, none of which came close to doing justice to so fine a man. He closed with the Lord’s Prayer.
When the mourners were dismissed, Dane turned to leave. Bones caught his eye long enough to indicate that he planned to stay with Melinda for a while longer. Dane nodded, and turned to find Kaylin waiting for him. She stood with her hands on her hips and a slight, upturned smile on her face, tempered only by the solemnity of the occasion.
“What?” Dane asked.
“I saw you back there,” she said, a mysterious look in her eyes. “You were praying, weren’t you?”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to open your eyes when you pray,” he kidded. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.” He offered his hand, and she clasped it in both of hers. Together, they strolled through the manicured green grass.
“You know,” Kaylin said, “you still haven’t told me what happened after we got separated back in the temple.”
Dane looked up at the azure sky, and took a deep breath. Somehow, what he had experienced was too personal to share, even with Kaylin. Exhaling, he turned to her and shrugged.
“It’s all so… I don’t know what to say about it. I’m still trying to figure it out. It could take a while.”
He could tell that she was dissatisfied with the answer, but she did not push. “I’ve got time. How long do you think it might take?”
“I don’t know,” Dane said. “Maybe a lifetime.”
About the Author
David Wood is the author of the Dane Maddock Adventure series and several stand-alone works. A fan of all things historical, archaeological, mythological, and cryptozoological, and his writing blends all of these passions. When it's vacation time, he generally passes on the exotic locales, preferring ruins, caves, Indian mounds, mountains, and sites of historical interest. (Fortunately, he lucked into a wife who loves the outdoors even more than he does!) In addition to his novels, his short fiction has appeared on the web, and in the Don't Know What You've Got anthology, and he writes the occasional editorial for Bleacher Report. Under his pseudonym David Debord, he is the author of The Absent Gods fantasy series. David is a proud member of International Thriller Writers. When not writing, David coaches youth sports. He and his family live in Santa Fe, New Mexico.