SEALS Book 7 Recon by Kevin D. Randle

Author:Kevin D. Randle
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Speaking Volumes
Published: 2015-01-22T00:00:00+00:00

Brian Moore sat on the cold stone of the floor and listened to the water dripping somewhere. He couldn’t see it because the cell was locked in darkness. He thought, however, that he could see shapes and shadows as the others moved about. There was straw spread on the floor and there was a hole cut in it in a corner. A cold draft smelling of urine and feces blew up from below.

Moore shifted around again and leaned to the rear, bracing his back against the wall. Solid rock with only the thinnest of joints between the stones. He had been able to find the joints only by running his fingertips over the stone. It was a well-constructed cell and there was no way out, except through the stone door that was impossible to move.

The other two in there with him—Sara Robinson and Jason Hughes—hadn’t spoken for several hours. Upon arrival, they had been amazed and hadn’t been able to stop talking about the discovery. The fact that the city was still inhabited and hadn’t been seen by outsiders for centuries had overshadowed the horrible deaths of their co-workers.

But all that had worn off as they had been dragged down the rock-lined corridors, away from the sun and light, and locked in the cell. Moore and Hughes had worked their way around the whole cell, feeling every square inch of it, looking for an avenue of escape, but had found none.

Sara had slumped to the floor, pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She tried not to cry, but the events of the morning were too fresh in her mind. She saw Linda cut down by a man with a bow and arrow. She had seen the man leap to the wounded Linda, roll her to her back, and then slash at her chest with a dull-colored knife. He had ripped her still-beating heart from her body and held it aloft as if it were some kind of trophy.

Now the horror of the scene filled her head and she couldn’t shake it. The fear that had kept it suppressed, as they were led through the jungle like lambs to the slaughter, was gone. Everything was gone. All she could do was sit on the cold floor, in the dark, and cry.

Moore had finally sat down beside her, putting an arm around her for comfort, but had said nothing. She turned her face toward him and sobbed until she knew that she could cry no more.

“What’s going to happen to us?” she demanded.

And although Moore had a very good idea, he said, “I don’t know.”

He wished that he had studied the Mayan calendar more thoroughly. In it were the clues to their fate. They would become sacrifices to the various Mayan gods, but the ceremonies were so ritualized that he didn’t know how long they would be held. It might be mere hours, in which case, there would be no hope for rescue, or it might be weeks, which meant that someone might reach them.

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