Houses of Stone, KATHY [classic literature books TXT] 📗

by water would have damaged them more, though. Then Cameron climbed over the fallen stone and knelt by the wall.

"Hand me that trowel, will you please?"

"Be careful," Karen said anxiously.

"Mmmm." After a moment he sat back on his heels. "I can't see anything. But it's getting dark, and I'm not keen on digging out more dirt until I can see what I'm doing. Suppose we cover this with plastic and leave it till tomorrow?"

"I may not be here tomorrow."

He turned to look at her. "You're leaving?"

"Probably. If my car is ready."

"You should go anyway," Cameron said slowly. "You should go now. Back to the motel."

"I want to see what's in the tunnel."

"Karen, please. It's going to rain like hell pretty soon, and your friends will be worried about you." Slowly he rose to his feet. His face was under tight control, but she heard his breath catch.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"If I tell you I feel like hell and I'm about to keel over, will you give up for today?"

"Do you? Are you?" She moved closer to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Yes. No, not really. . . I'll check out that filthy hole in the rock, and I'll investigate Peggy's questionable discovery, and I'll ... do what needs to be done. If you can trust me to do it right."

He looked so tired. Not just tired—defeated.

"I don't know how to do it right either," Karen whispered. "We'll just have to do the best we can."

Her hand moved slowly, lightly, up his arm to his shoulder. He stood rigid as a statue while her fingers curved over the back of his head. Even after it had bent under the gentle pressure of her hand, she had to stand on tiptoe to touch his lips with hers. His movements were as delicate and deliberate as hers had been until his arms held her; then they tightened with a sudden force that brought a stifled cry from her and a gasp from him.

"Was that pain or passion?" she asked breathlessly.

"Both." His lips moved to her closed eyes.

"You do have a cracked rib."

"I don't remember. Let's try that again. It was almost right, but I think we can do better."

"I don't want to hurt you—"

"I'm supposed to say that." His exhalation of laughter mingled with hers.

At first she took the distant sound for a rumble of thunder. Then it rose in pitch, like a scream, and she went rigid in his arms. "My God! What is it?"

Cameron said something under his breath. They stood listening for a moment, and then the sound came again. This time Karen heard the words. "Hey, brother! Where are you, boy? We know you're here. Come on out and play!"

"It's Bobby," Cameron said flatly. "He's been trailing me all day. I thought . . . Come on."

"Wait. What are you going to do? He's not alone." The chorus of high-pitched voices sounded like dogs, baying on a fresh scent.

"No. He likes to have company on these little jaunts." The air was dusky dark with the approaching storm; his face shone with sweaty pallor. "I'll go ... talk to him. He doesn't know you're here."

"He knows someone else is here. Peggy's car—"

"Oh, God, yes. I'd forgotten." He turned in a desperate circle, scanning the clearing in search of a way out. The thorny barricade could have been forced, but only at the cost of painful scratches, and the signs of their passage would have been clearly visible. The voices were louder now, closer. One rose in a wild Rebel yell. "You'd better hide. They're probably drunk, and they might . . . That tunnel. Pull some brush over the entrance. I'll tell them there was an accident, that you all left together—"

"You won't have a chance to tell them anything!" She clung to him, fighting his effort to pull away. "They'll be four or five to one, and you've already got a cracked rib. We've both got to hide."

"Karen—"

"Cameron." She twisted both hands in his shirt and swung him around to face her. "Do you really think I'd cower in that hole listening while they beat the shit out of you?"

The taut muscles of his face sagged into a faint smile. "Well, if you put it that way . . . Let's go then. Is that your purse over there? Take it with you; if they see anything lying around they'll know you're still here."

Karen scooped up her purse and Peggy's forgotten jacket, and they ran for the tunnel. It was probably almost as hard for Cameron to enter that dark hole as it would have been for him to face four or five opponents. But he'd survive an attack of claustrophobia. He might not survive a meeting with Bobby and his buddies.

"Hurry up," Cameron gasped. "They've found the path."

A louder whoop from Bobby confirmed his statement. "Ready or not, here we come! Wheee-hoo!"

Ducking her head, Karen scuttled into the opening. Cameron didn't follow her immediately; she assumed he was hesitating, fighting his phobia, and was about to tug at his pant leg when a shower of dirt rained down across the opening. Shielding his face with his arm, Cameron came through it and dropped down onto the floor just inside. The shower trickled down and stopped, leaving a pile of debris, dirt mixed with cut vines and branches, half-blocking the entrance.

"Good thinking," she whispered.

He didn't answer. She could tell by the way he breathed how much he hated this, though he was still just inside the entrance, too close for safety.

"Can you move farther back?" she asked.

"No. You'd better, though."

Karen crawled back another foot or two. The air was warm but surprisingly dry, and she had no feeling of discomfort though the ceiling was too low to enable her to stand. The surface under her hands was rough enough to scratch them, even under the inch-thick layer of earth that remained. The womb, the enclosure, the primal cave; now she knew firsthand how the heroines