Dane Maddock Origins 09 Treasure of the Dead by David Wood; Rick Chesler

Author:David Wood; Rick Chesler [Chesler, David Wood; Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, men's adventure, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Sea Adventures, War & Military, women's adventure, Genre Fiction, Horror, Occult, Thriller, Travel
Amazon: B01FOVM57K
Publisher: Gryphonwood
Published: 2016-05-13T23:00:00+00:00

“Up there!” Maddock shouted. Lungs burning, muscles screaming, he led the way up to a massive building—much larger and more intact than Sans Souci palace. He knew from his research that it was called the Citadelle Laferrière, another popular tourist destination. Cut off from any other escape route, the three had been forced to retreat uphill. Several times they’d tried to evade their pursuers and work their way back downhill to their waiting vehicle, but to no avail. They were hemmed in, choked off by natural landforms and nearly encircled by the line of pursuit. Maddock estimated they’d covered nearly five kilometers. Thankfully all were in excellent shape, because their pursuers had dogged their trail, not flagging for an instant. Maddock and the others had managed to widen the distance between themselves and the pursuit, but it was only a matter of time before they ran out of steam.

Bones stared up at an imposing structure. “If Sans Souci Palace was on a hill, this place is on a mountain.”

Willis surveyed their surroundings in all directions. He lingered on the road behind them. “They’re still coming.”

“Unbelievable,” Bones said. “And they’ve spread out, too. One of us might get past them, but not all three.”

“I nominate Maddock as sacrificial lamb,” Willis said.

“Yeah, right.” Maddock eyed the citadel. “That gang or whatever they are will be on us soon. We don’t want them to catch up to us on open road. We’ll have to make our stand here.”

Bones pumped his fist. “Remember the Alamo! Or somewhere the good guys actually won.”

The trio moved off the road to a path that wended its way up the final stretch to the Citadelle. The way became even tougher going on the upper part of the mountain, and by the time they were near the crest, they could hear the upward progress of the horde as they crunched over brambles and knocked down rocks. The three men forged on and after a while Bones’ whoop signaled that they had reached the plateau on the summit where the citadel was situated.

Before them, the high walls loomed more than one hundred feet tall. It would have afforded defenders a remarkable view of the surrounding area.

“Too bad we don’t have a few sniper rifles handy,” Bones said.

They moved onto a concrete strip probably once used for staging artillery. Signage nearby indicated that the old stronghold was built in 1805 as a means of defense against French invasions. The building, up close, was much more elaborately designed and more intact than the fort at Sans Souci.

“Check it out.” Bones pointed to rows upon rows of round, metal balls a few feet in front of them. “Cannonballs.”

“Hey Bones,” Maddock said, looking down the slope, “maybe you could come back as a tourist some other time, okay? Because we don’t have long before our friends down there get to us.”

“He’s right.” Willis also looked down the mountain, his brow furrowed with concern.

Maddock looked back to the cannonballs and then down the mountain again, where the mob of non-lingual men was that much closer.

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