She braced herself against the stone and pulled herself hand over hand.
She could make it.
Don’t think of Kevin.
Move. Climb.
Block the monsters from your thoughts.
Don’t think of Doane waiting for her at the top.
Think of Joe. Think of Jane.
Think of Bonnie.
* * *
SHIT!
Agonizing pain shot through Zander as he grabbed the exposed tree root and pulled himself another few feet up the mine shaft. He threw the strap of his backpack over the root and fastened it under his arms in case he lost consciousness again. His body was going into shock. He had been blacking out during the last hour of the climb. He had ripped the front of his shirt and formed a support bandage around his wrist. But there was no question that the wrist was broken.
He checked his phone. Still no signal, of course. The tower was too far away. Even after he climbed out, he would probably have to walk a good two miles to get any kind of reception at all. Inside the mine shaft, it was a totally lost cause. He winced as searing pain jolted through him as he put away the phone.
Ignore it. Use that technique the Buddhist priests had taught him to block it all out.
But the priests had not had to climb up a narrow, muddy mine shaft, with only the occasional rock or outgrowth of vegetation to support him. Nor use that broken wrist to catch himself when his other handhold was in danger of failing him. Like right now, when he was hanging from a slender tree root with his whole weight swinging from the grip on that fragile plant and his hip wedged in a small cavity that gave meager support. Or digging his fingers into stone cracks or into the slippery mud as his feet and knees pushed him up toward the top.
Yet the priests had probably gone through even more severe challenges for their faith. Zander had seen them do some fairly incredible things. Unfortunately, Zander had no blind faith to keep the demons of weakness and pain away. So close out the agony and concentrate on the job to be done.
In a minute. When the throbbing stopped. That last lunge had caused the bone to pierce the skin.
He closed his eyes. At this rate, it would take him several hours to reach the top.
Rest. There was no hurry. Eve had either escaped Doane or been captured.
Or she had been killed.
None of the three options required instant response. If she had escaped, then she had proved she could take care of herself against threats. If she was captured, then Doane would try to keep her alive to accomplish his purpose.
If she had been killed, he could not bring her back to life.
Emptiness. Why was he feeling this emptiness?
* * *
“YOU CAN’T REST . Go on. She needs you. I don’t know how long she’s going to be able to hold him off.”
He opened his eyes and struggled to focus at the voice that had come from the top of the shaft.
A little red-haired girl wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt was sitting on the edge looking down at him.
Shit. Now he was having hallucinations. He knew who that little girl staring at him was supposed to be. He had read the newspaper reports, and Eve had told him about Bonnie. It was entirely natural that he was having visions of her in this shocked state. “Go away.”
“I can’t go away,” she whispered. “I can’t get to Mama. You have to do it for me. He’s keeping me back. I’m fighting him, and it’s getting a little better, but I don’t know if I’ll reach her in time.”
“Who’s keeping you back? Doane?”
She shook her head. “Kevin.”
Now he knew he was out of his head. “Demons and goblins, oh my.”
“Stop it. I don’t have time for this. I can feel my strength fading away. Kevin is too strong.” She moistened her lips. “You have to get her away from Doane. I want to be with her, but it can’t be like this.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to handle it yourself. Ghosts and demons are out of my realm of expertise.”
“Don’t you tell me that.” Bonnie’s eyes were suddenly blazing at him. “You have to help my mother. I won’t have it any other way.” Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Don’t you see? The darkness is closing in around her. And beyond the darkness is nothing but … silence.”
“All I know is that you’re a figment of my imagination and I refuse to—”
* * *
HE WAS TALKING TO AIR. There was no longer a little girl looking down at him.
There had never been a little girl with red hair and eyes that blazed with panic and anger and love.
Hallucination. Pain-induced craziness.
And again this feeling of emptiness was sweeping back to him at the thought that Eve might be dead.
Emptiness and rage. Rage at Eve for not doing what he’d told her to do. The same rage he’d felt toward the priest when he’d refused to let Zander take him off his mountain to safety. Didn’t they know that all of their fine humanity and efforts to heal the world would only bring them to this? Death was always there, waiting for the good as well as the evil.
Who should know better than he?
Where was Eve now? Lying dead in the mud a mile away from here? He doubted if she would manage to escape. Doane had been too close, and she had deliberately run back across his trail.
To save him.
The rage was growing. Idiotic woman. Didn’t she realize he could save himself. That he didn’t need her. God knows she should have realized that by now.
Okay, she was dead, or Doane had her again. He would know as soon as he managed to get out of here. If they were lucky, then she’d be alive and probably back at that coin factory by now.
They? It was Eve’s life, Eve’s fate. She had made that clear to him, and that was the way he wanted it. It was her decision, her destiny whether she lived or died on this mountain. He would not allow himself to care either away. She was not Zander’s concern.
The darkness is closing in on her. And beyond the darkness is nothing but … silence.
Block that moment of pain and hallucination and think clearly.
Eve was not his concern.
But that knife he had given her was his concern, he thought suddenly.
When Doane discovered she had a knife, then he would be immediately suspicious. He would question her, and if he didn’t believe the answer, then he would torture her.
And she would not tell Doane that Zander had given her the knife. No matter what he did to Eve, she would not tell him that Zander was here in these mountains and vulnerable.
Because she was a fool, like the priest. She would take the punishment for some obscure reason that had no bearing on reality. She should tell Doane and let Zander take his chances. That would be the sensible thing to do.
And beyond the capability of the Eve Duncan he had grown to know tonight.
Which meant that there was an urgency after all whether he liked it or not, even if it took all night to climb out and battle back this damn pain.
He started to curse as he began to wriggle up the muddy shaft, grabbing the shrubs and rocks where he could to keep from slipping. And with every movement of his body, every flash of pain, the rage began to be transformed, alter, change, burn with white-hot intensity and shift away from Eve.
And focus like a laser on James Doane.
* * *
EVE TOOK OFF THE BACKPACK and dropped it at Doane’s feet. “There’s Frankenstein junior. May you enjoy each other.”
“Be careful.” He opened the flap and shined the beam into the interior. “Why, he’s not damaged very much at all.” He lifted his gaze, and said maliciously, “What a disappointment for you.”
“There is some damage.”