Nazi Hunter by Jeremy Robinson

Nazi Hunter by Jeremy Robinson

Author:Jeremy Robinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: history, conspiracy, egypt, nazi, atlantis, germany, conspiracy theory, archeology, secondworld
Publisher: Breakneck Media


18

Vesely’s arms shook. His fingers, splayed wide, ached. He tried to swing a leg up twice, but each effort resulted in him slipping a few inches closer to his doom.

“Pasha!” he shouted. “Pasha, wake up!”

Only his echoed shout replied. When it faded, he could hear her breathing softly.

Vesely slowed his breathing and tried to think of a solution. He lacked the strength to simply hoist himself up. If he moved his legs again, he’d likely fall. He moved his feet back and forth, searching for any imperfection in the wall, but it was perfectly flat and smooth. His cowboy boots scraped over the surface, occasionally sticking, but as soon as he tried to push up, his exhausted legs shook from the effort.

This is it, he thought. Death by an ancient Atlantean trap. While part of him thought a death at the hands of a lost culture was unique and interesting, it was kind of a silly end for someone who’d saved the world—the entire world. And here he was, killed by a bottomless pit. And the only person available to witness his passing was unconscious and likely to be killed in short order.

Thinking about the fate that awaited Pasha if he fell, Vesely filled his lungs once more and shouted as loud as possible, “ Pasha! Wake up!”

This time he was rewarded with a gasp from above.

But the movement created by shouting, along with his perspiring hands, caused him to slip. Vesely’s fingers hooked, trying to hold on, but it was no use. The fall was inevitable...until a weight fell atop his hands.

Pasha’s head emerged over the side. She reached over the edge and grasped one of Vesely’s arms. She was clearly in pain, wincing with every movement, but she spoke with fierce determination. “Swing a leg up!”

Vesely wasted no time kicking a leg up over the ledge. With Pasha keeping him momentarily rooted in place, he managed to get his foot up and over the lip of the pit. Using his leg muscles, his arms and Pasha’s help, Vesely pulled himself up. They slid over the edge together in a pile of exhausted limbs and heavy breathing.

They lay on the floor for several minutes, recuperating, until Pasha said, “How is that hat still on your head, and please tell me it isn’t clipped to your hair.”

Vesely grinned. “Why not?”

“It will totally ruin your manly image.”

He shook with light laughter. “Is important for you to think of me as manly?”

Pasha starred at him in silence, a look of peace in her eyes. After nearly a minute of silence, she smiled. “Why couldn’t it have been you?”

“Why could what have been me?”

When she didn’t answer, Vesely pressed forward. “Pash?”

Her eyes flicked back to his, all of the humor, peace and inner reflection missing. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry,” Vesely quickly responded. “Is bad codename?”

The silence that followed once more made Vesely squirm, but he resisted the urge to ask her again. ‘Pash,’ wasn’t much of a codename. More of a nickname, really. But something about it bothered her.



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