“Thank goodness,” Lazlo said. “I don’t suppose either of you has a fully charged sat phone in your back pocket, do you?”
“Afraid not, old badger,” Sam said, affecting his best British accent. “But maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“That’s been rather a poor expectation so far, hasn’t it?” Lazlo countered.
“Killjoy.”
Remi cocked her head, listening intently. Sam raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“I hear a motor. Faint, but there.”
Remi took off at a dead run, making for the road, Sam close behind her, and Lazlo, as was customary in the bush, bringing up the rear from a considerable distance. Sam caught up to her and grabbed her arm as they neared the road. “Let’s stay out of sight until we’re sure it’s not rebels.”
She nodded, her eyes fatigued but acknowledging the wisdom in his words. They crouched behind a large banyan tree as Lazlo caught up. Remi’s face lit up with relief when she saw the source of the engine noise approaching on the road.
“Look. It’s an ambulance, from town,” she said.
Sam stepped from behind the tree as the ambulance neared, waving his hands over his head. The ambulance slowed, its emergency lights flashing red and blue, the driver probably surprised to come across three foreigners in the middle of nowhere just after dawn. The vehicle rolled to a stop on the roadside ten yards from where they stood.
“It should have a radio. Finally, a lucky break—we can get help a lot faster,” Sam said, and then his voice trailed off when the doors at the rear of the ambulance swung open and a familiar figure stepped onto the pavement. The shape of the pistol in the man’s hand was unmistakable, in the unlikely event any of them had forgotten the lead gunman’s face.
“Oh no . . .” Remi said, preparing to bolt. A second gunman descended from the rear of the ambulance with an ancient rifle, an evil grin twisting his features, stopping her in her tracks. At that distance, a pistol shot might miss, but not a rifle.
“Well, well, well. Look what we found,” the gunman said, approaching them with his weapon held casually by his side. “Small world, no?” he asked as he neared, and slammed Sam in the side of the head with a brutal blow from the pistol’s stock before he could raise his hands to defend himself.
“No!” Remi screamed, lunging at the gunman, but it was too late.
The sky spun and the world faded from Sam as he crumpled to the road, unconscious.
CHAPTER 48
Sam shifted on the hard stone floor as awareness seeped back into his brutalized cranium. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, and then the blur of indistinct objects resolved itself into the concerned face of Remi, staring down at him, Lazlo looking over her shoulder. Sam blinked, and his head felt like someone had broken a two-by-four over it. He raised a tentative hand to his temple and drew a sharp breath when pain radiated through his skull from the swollen bump, crusted over with blood where the pistol had broken skin.
Sam tried to sit up, but the room spun, and a sound like a freight train roaring through a tunnel filled his ears. He thought better of it, deciding that a few more moments remaining supine wouldn’t hurt, and then his brain began processing the words that Remi was urgently whispering.
“We’re back in the caves. But this one’s different,” she said. He tried to make sense out of that. Last thing he remembered, he was on the road, waving down an ambulance . . .
His memory came rushing back in a jumble of images. The gunmen. A blow to the head. Darkness.
Sam struggled up, leaning on one elbow, and regarded Remi. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a croak.
“Yes. They roughed us up some, but you got the worst of it.”
“I feel like I wrestled a bear.” He blinked again. “The bear won.”
“Not far from the truth,” Lazlo said. “You look a trifle played.”
“That’s what happens when they use your head for a punching bag,” Sam said, and sat up. This time, the room didn’t spin—it tilted—and the nausea that accompanied that sensation surged before slowly receding. He looked back at Remi. “What do you mean, this cave’s different?”
“It’s not the same one we were in. It’s better lit, and has multiple chambers . . . one of which has some hospital beds in it, along with medical equipment.”
“Medical equipment?” Sam asked, trying to make sense out of hospital beds in caves. “What kind of medical equipment?”
A rusting iron slab at the far end of their empty chamber creaked open and Carol Vanya stepped in, a pleasant smile on her face like she’d dropped by to chat. Two gunmen followed her, brandishing their weapons with ugly expressions.
“Oh, mostly vital signs monitors, IVs, oxygen tanks, that sort of thing,” Vanya said. “We’ve got a solar array set up in a clearing with a considerable battery bank, and a wind genera
tor, as well as a water-driven generator that’s surprisingly powerful.”