As answer, a second series of flashes exploded through the necropolis. It was not far, just past the end of one of the avenues that spoked away from the central plaza. “They must be in trouble,” Sam said.
“What do you mean?” Maggie asked, her jubilation waning to worry.
“That’s old Morse code. An S.O.S. signal.”
Maggie stared toward the dark necropolis. “What are we going to do?”
Sam glanced at her. “I have to try and help them.” The flare of flashing light blazed again, then died away. “They must be pinned down.”
Denal spoke up, raising his torch a bit higher. “I go, too.”
“And I sure as hell am not staying here alone,” Maggie said. “Let’s go.” She started toward the avenue that led most directly toward the trapped students. A hand pulled her back.
“No,” Sam said, “you and Denal stay here.”
Maggie swung around, shaking out of his grip. “Like bloody hell! I’m not puttin’ up with any of your chauvinistic bullshit, Sam.”
“And I’m not asking you to. If I get the others free, we’re gonna be running like scared rabbits with a pack of wolves on our heels. We’re gonna need a hole to hide in.” Sam stepped back to the statue. He raised his rifle and tapped its butt against the gold ankle. A dull clang reverberated up the leg.
“It’s hollow,” Maggie said, amazed.
“And a good place to hide,” Sam said. “When I was circling around, I found a doorway on the far side. In the left heel of the idol.” Sam reached to his waist and slipped out the gold dagger. He held its hilt out toward Maggie. “I need you to pick that lock before I get back with the others.”
Maggie accepted the dagger and the responsibility. “My da’ was once a thief in his youth… here’s hoping there’s a genetic predisposition.”
Sam smiled at her. “I always suspected there was something criminal about you.”
She returned his smile. “I’ll get the bloody door open. You just bring back the others.” She held out her torch. “And be careful.”
He stepped closer to accept the flaming brand. In the torchlight, she could see the intensity smoldering in his blue eyes. Grabbing the torch, he let his hand linger on hers. “You, too,” he said, his voice a touch huskier. He hesitated another breath.
Maggie raised her face toward him. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he stepped away.
“I’d better get going.”
She nodded. Somewhere deep inside her, in a place that seldom stirred, she felt disappointment and turned slightly to keep from betraying her feelings. “Don’t you do anythin’ stupid,” she implored.
Denal spoke up from a pace away. “I see no more flashes. They stop.”
Sam swung around… whatever tenuous moment they had shared faded away like scattered embers. He studied the spread of the necropolis. “That can’t be a good sign,” he said quietly.
“Hurry, Sam.”
Nodding, the Texan raised his rifle toward the cavern roof. “Cover your ears.”
She and Denal did so, but even with their palms clamped tight to the sides of their heads, the rifle blast was deafening.
After the ringing died away, Sam lowered the rifle. “Hopefully, that’ll let them know the cavalry is coming.”
Maggie frowned as Sam started down the avenue.
And will let the creatures know, too, she thought dourly.
“That had to be Sam!” Ralph said. “He must have seen your signal!”
Norman eyed the gap in the slabs overhead. After the single rifle blast, pale fingers had returned to tug and push on the granite, widening the space another inch. Black eyes stared in at the trapped pair. Norman jabbed his torch at the faces, but to little effect. The roof was too high. They simply backed away, then quickly returned.
“Sam won’t make it here in time,” Norman mumbled. “Not unless we find some way to chase these roof rats away.”
Ralph turned from the doorway. “I may have an idea.”
Norman watched as Ralph shrugged the ammo belt from his shoulder. “With the rifle jammed, we won’t need this any longer.” He held up the strap of leather with over twenty intact shells still on it, then stepped toward the entrance.
Norman began to get an inkling of Ralph’s plan. “That might just work.”
“And it might blast a way out of here for us, too.” Ralph tossed the belt into the flames. In half a heartbeat, the shells began exploding like popcorn on a skillet, sputtering and cracking. Outside, ricochets pinged off the neighboring tomb walls. The mummy underneath the belt was riddled to shreds, and bits of it were scattered across the stone.
Overhead, beasts fled in a squealing rush from the noise and the cascade of flaming debris. Norman stepped nearer the gap to be sure they had actually fled. He raised his torch high toward the crevice in the roof. It was empty. No more peering faces or scrabbling fingers. He grinned. “It’s working—”
“Get back!” Ralph hollered.
Fire suddenly tore into Norman’s leg. Dropping his torch, he crumpled to the floor as bolts of agony shot all the way up into his belly. He cried out, mouth open for a moment in a silent scream, then a high-pitched whine escaped his lips: “Shhhiiittt!”
Ralph was instantly at his side, dragging him back toward the shadowed wall. “Goddammit, Norm, what did you think you were doing?”
Norman was not in the mood for a discussion of his shortcomings. With teeth clenched against the pain, he stared down at his right leg. A thick wetness soaked through the knee of his khakis. The room began to spin.
“You caught a ricochet,” Ralph explained. He pulled off his shirt. “Why did you step from cover?”
Norman groaned and waved an arm toward the gap in the roof slabs. “I wanted to be sure—oh, the hell with it—I wasn’t thinking.” His face squeezed tight as Ralph gently examined the wound. “It’s not like I tossed handfuls of bullets into campfires when I was a kid. But I guess with my army training I should’ve known better than to break cover.”
“I don’t think it hit any major arteries,” Ralph said. “I don’t see any spurting, but your knee is all shot to hell. I’m gonna have to wrap it tight to support it and to restrict any further seeping.” Ralph took his own shirt, a thick flannel, and shredded it into strips. Taking a scrap, he touched Norman’s leg. “This will hurt.”