Please see disclaimer in Ch 1.
A persistent shiver worked up Landon's spine as he tried in vain to figure out where to put his foot next. His hands were bound behind him, and the thick cloth bag never moved from his head, no matter how many times he tried to shake it off. The last time he tried to 'accidentally' work it off, he'd received a slap in the head for his trouble, and felt a piece of rope wind lightly around his throat. Landon knew what it meant—leave it alone or we'll tie it on.
He wished he could see. The path he was being forced down was difficult at best, and with no hearing to determine whether the next step was easy or treacherous, Landon had managed to fall down a lot, tripping over the slightest rock or hole in the uneven ground. Beside him, he felt hands pull him back up and push him forward again.
"Please, if I could just be able to see," he called out.
The cloth remained overtop of his face.
Behind him, Eamon heard Landon's desperate plea for his sight, though there was little he could do for him. The Australian felt as though he'd walked the entire length of the Outback twice, and most of it in circles. He had absolutely no idea how far away they were from the giant rock formation that had house the group's last 'camp,' nor how long he and Landon had been forced to walk like blind mice in a maze.
"Let him see, for the love of God," Eamon cried. "Has to be better than picking him up every five minutes, wouldn't it?"
"Shut up," a thick voice behind him barked, shoving him forward. Eamon heard yet another thud and a sharp cry—the sound of Landon connecting with the ground in front of him yet again.
"Park--" Eamon began to call out, stopping in mid-thought. Brilliant, genius, he chided himself. He can't hear you…
The voices in front of him were speaking that strange Spanish again. Eamon knew it was some sort of American Spanish, not like the 'true' Spanish of Europe taught in most Australian schools, but that was as far as his knowledge of the language went. He'd spent most of his time in the pool, not in class like he probably should have…
A hand grabbed Eamon's shoulder, and pulled him to a stop. Without warning, the cloth bag was lifted from his face. A short distance away, Landon Parker's wish was finally granted, and he cast his eyes on a dark but starry sky.
"Why are we…?" Eamon began, but his sentence was cut off.
"You like to climb, ese," the thin man said, looking straight into the younger man's eyes. "Bueno. But let's see you climb this, eh?"
Eamon's eyes stared upward. A giant wall of rock surrounded the party, stretching for miles in any direction. The crest of the barrier had to be at least a mile at its low point and nearly three miles at its peak. Upon further study of the formation, Eamon noticed that it was almost completely sheer from top to bottom—there were no handholds to speak of.
"No," he said quietly. "It's impossible…" He felt Landon's eyes staring at him, looking desperate for even the tiniest scrap of information.
"Only one way in, ese, the thin man said evenly, almost hissing in Eamon's ear. The younger man could feel the heat of his breath cascading onto his neck, and it caused an involuntary shiver down his back. "And only one way out."
"The—the climb's impossible," Eamon said again, looking directly at Landon as he spoke. "There's no way…"
"Remember that. Now, move," the man said, shoving Eamon forward and sending him off-balance. The twenty-year old fell to the ground with a resounding splat.
A pair of footsteps started to walk over, but they were quickly stopped.
"Ah, ah," the thin man said, waggling a finger in front of Landon's face. "Smart boy needs to learn to pick himself up first."
"What?" Landon cried. "I can't hear you!"
Standing closer, the man repeated his statement. Beneath his feet, Eamon struggled to push himself up with his bound hands, but found it difficult to get them in the right position to do so. After a few minutes—and a few catcalls from the other men surrounding them—Eamon managed to pick himself up.
Calling over to a tall man with a handlebar mustache, the thin man spoke in that infernal Spanish again. Eamon wished that these blokes would at least stick to one language so that he'd know whether or not he was going to be killed now or kept for some sick amusement later. Before long, both he and Landon were marched into some sort of 'room' built into the rock wall. The entire length and width of the space was about the size of a giant walk-in closet.
"Home sweet home, eh?" one of the men said, chuckling. The sound of a thick door slamming shut filled Eamon's ears and sent vibrations through the rock underneath the young men's feet.
"Parker," he said, trying to stand as close to the other man as he could. There was only a sliver of light that shone in from a crack between the door and the wall, but even that was only enough to take the edge off the blackness of the night.
The sounds of Landon hyperventilating filled the room. "Owen?" he called out, his voice loud. "You still there?"
It took a minute for Eamon to realize what Landon was saying—the effect of the fuzzy edge to the younger man's voice. Walking over, he tapped his chin on Landon's shoulder in an attempt to tell him that he was still there.
"Oh, thank God," Landon said. "I thought…"
Using his chin again, Eamon drew a circle into Landon's shoulder.
"Turn around?"
Eamon's chin drew an up-and-down line in the shoulder.
"Okay. Hang on…"
Almost…hah! Eamon thought to himself as his hands felt Landon's bonds. Grasping the knot in his fingers, he began to pick through the twisted cord a little at a time. Finally, the cord fell to the ground, and Landon shook the numbness out of his wrists.
"Now I'll get yours," he said. Eamon nodded, hoping he could be seen in this infernal pitch.
Landon made quick work of the cord around Eamon's wrists, and soon he too was rubbing his wrists. "Now to get out of here," he said. Racing towards the door, both men tried pushing against it, only to find that something heavy had been placed in front of it.
"Probably a rock," Landon guessed. "We're not getting it open."
Eamon then began running his hands against the rock walls. They were solid, and as thick as the formation they'd been carved out of. Sighing in exasperation, he sank to the floor.
"If only they'd give us some decent light," he said quietly. There were no windows, and no exits other than the door that was now blocked.
"We'll have to wait," Landon said as Eamon heard him sink to the floor as well. "There's no way out otherwise." Eamon knew Landon was talking more for the Australian's benefit than his own, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't accustomed to sitting in silence, and the quiet was beginning to bother him more than the rock-walled room he was trapped inside.
Reaching for Landon's arm, he took it into his hand and sqeezed it tightly, hoping to bring some relief to his unlikely companion. He could feel the shaking that Landon was suffering, and Eamon didn't know if that was from the damp cold of the rocks or from the fear of not being able to see.
"I don't like the dark," Landon said.
I'll bet, Eamon thought sadly. I wish I could see too…maybe when the sun rises, we might get a little more light in here…
--
Outside, Marco and Punta stood guard. There was little reason to, seeing as Luis had ordered a giant boulder nearly three feet in diameter to be rolled in front of the thick door.
"Let's see how they like the dark, eh?" he'd said. "Maybe they'll be more cooperative after a bit of that…"
"You think they'll try to escape again, hermano?" Marco asked, long after Luis had left them.
"Might. But then, I think Luis is only getting the 'guest room' ready tonight," Punta replied, tipping his straw hat over his eyes. "After all, can't have the prize pieces falling over dead or going loco from the dark, eh?"
"Mmm. You're probably right. Come on. Let's get some sleep." With that, Marco rolled over inside a thick woolen blanket; a rug-like covering that encased the man perfectly.
"It's gonna be a little warm for that, ese," Punta warned. The night breeze was indeed warm—too warm for early May, but it still held a bit of a chill to it.
--
In another hollowed-out 'room', Luis put the finishing touches on what would become his 'guests' quarters. The sounds of metal and rock colliding could be heard off and on throughout the night.
