A Penny's Worth (The Cephas Bourdon Series) (24 page)

“It's Emmaline. And sometimes love isn't the most important thing,” I responded bitterly.

“In that, my dear, you are very, very wrong.” His voice was definite, and then a motor sounded above the tunnel.
Cephas’
eyes grew wide.

CHAPTER 14

“We have to hurry
—
grab that bag!” he directed, pointing at the ground. I obeyed and followed him down the tunnel. We walked a small distance and he gestured toward a brace.

“Tie this to that, then carry this line back to the motorcycle. I'll meet you there in five minutes.”

“You're leaving me by myself?” I asked, unsuccessful at hiding the fear in my voice. He stopped moving.

“I'm sorry, Em. I know you're not used to things like this.” I straightened my back and grabbed the bag from him.

“I
am
capable
—
I was simply worried the dark, wet, cave of
death
could collapse at any moment. I
am
carrying dynamite, you know.” I walked over to the brace and unzipped the bag.

“Sorry, Em. I didn't mean to
—
” Cephas began.

“Hurry!” I urged, shewing him away with my hand. I smirked and pulled the dynamite out of the bag. “You're at four minutes now,” I shot after him. I heard his low laugh and he disappeared down the tunnel. Digging through the back pack, I found some wire with which to tie the dynamite to the brace. I worked quickly, twisting the metal with a pair of pliers. I finished and shoved the supplies back into the bag and slung the strap over my shoulder. Holding the wire in between my fingers, I followed the dark path back to the motorcycle. The crunching noise of gravel beneath my tennis shoes echoed through the cave. Tennis shoes? I was wearing my pink high heels last night. Where did I get shoes? Where did I get jeans and a t
-
shirt? And who changed me? I felt my cheeks burn crimson red. Rocks slipped beneath my feet and I stumbled into the wall. My hand caught my body against the cold, wet surface. Steadying myself, I stood upright and wiped my hand on my pants. I scowled: I hated getting dirty. My hands slapped the sides of my legs violently; I was so off balance, so flustered with the situation. I squinted my eyes and saw the bike's headlights a ways off. Attempting to forget about the frightening creatures that might be lurking along the path in the cave of death, I forced my thoughts somewhere else: they darted instantly to Cephas. He was wandering around the tunnels, doing who knows what. He did have a flashlight, at least. What was he doing anyway? And why was I strapping dynamite to a brace in a mine? I wouldn't be doing any of this if Cephas had never barged into my life. Maybe this is what my dad was warning me about. But how could my dad have known about all of this? I got to the top of the path where the map lay in the light of the motorcycle. I knelt on the ground and perused the map. Three x's marked three separate places in the mine, and a big circle surrounded an entrance across from where I was kneeling. Cephas had drawn a rectangle along a distant shaft, as well as an arrow down a smaller tunnel. What was he planning?

A faint motor approached in the distance; it was above the mineshaft. I looked around but didn't see Cephas. The sound stopped at an idle, then revved and faded to where it had come from. It was going toward the entrance. I stood from my crouched position and looked around frantically for Cephas. What was taking so long? I folded up the map and shoved it in my backpack. I got on the back of the bike and waited a moment. Footsteps. A small light appeared down the tunnel to my left:
Cephas’
flashlight! I slung the backpack over my shoulders and scooted back to allow him some room to mount the bike.

“Hurry, Cephas!” I whispered in a hurried tone.

“What, you're driving?” he whispere
d, lifting his foot between
me and the handlebars.

“Oh, yeah right,
like I could drive this thing.”

“Do you wanna try?” “Cephas, hurry!” I chastened, smirking as the words left my mouth. “They're coming!” I think he was actually enjoying this, as if he got a rush from near death.

“Oh, right,
I forgot.” His voice was sarcastic and he smiled. After sparking the wires together, the engine roared and he pulled the bike to the edge of the alcove.

“You ready?” he asked, revving the engine a few times.

“For what? What are we going to do?” I asked.

“Did you look at the map?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we put dynamite on the three x's. They're all major structural points for this side of the mine. We'll draw the agents down a tunnel and . . . well . . . the rest is a little complicated, but we'll get out and they won't.”

“Are you sure?” I was skeptical.

“Pretty sure,” he said, putting the bike into first gear. The motorcycle lunged forward, traveling instantly at what I considered much too quick a speed for a closed
—
down mine. I clung to
Cephas’
waist, hugging my legs tightly against the seat. The headlights shone only a few feet in front of us, illuminating the gravel on the ground as the tires flung it every which way. We tore through the mine shaft, gaining speed each second. We turned right and stopped abruptly.

“What are we doing?” I asked in a hurried voice.

“Shh,” he quieted me. “They're coming.” I listened intently. After a moment, I heard the faint sound of a motor. Cephas edged the bike forward and shut off the lights. A light appeared at the top of the tunnel and I gasped.

“They're coming, Cephas,” I whispered
. T
he fright was evident in my voice.

“You're quick,” he muttered.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes and let go of his waist.

“I wouldn't do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?” I asked, frustration rising in my voice.

“Let go.”

“Why not?” I asked, very annoyed. He revved the engine and flipped the lights on. In an instant we took off down the tunnel, cutting in front of the group of bikers that had just entered the tunnel. I let out a short scream and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. I saw the left corner of his mouth twitch upward.

“I told you. Now will you quit asking so many questions and just do what I tell you to do?”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” I replied sarcastically, shouting to be heard over the bike's engine. Why was he always so full of himself? We flew down the tunnel, the agents right on our tail. It seemed like we were going deeper and deeper into the cave. I was beginning to think we weren't going to be able to get out. The other motorcycles were quickly closing the space between them and us.

“Do you trust me?” Cephas shouted as he increased his speed.

“Are you kidding!” I shouted back. “No way.”

“Good. There's a pack of matches in my left front pocket. Get them out.”

“Are you coming onto me?” I asked, smiling as I fished around in his pocket. Cephas shook his head in feigned exasperation.

“What do I do with these?” I asked. Cephas took a sharp turn to the left, bringing the bike to an abrupt halt.

“Get off,” he ordered.

“What? No!”

“Look
—
take the matches and light the end of that wick when this timer goes off.” He handed me a timer and put the bike into gear. “Wait for me
.
I'll be back.”

“But Cephas, I
—
”

“
Can you do this for me? I promise I'll be back.” I paused a moment and bit my lip.
“Emmaline. They're coming.” His voice was calm, but urgent at the same time. I ripped the timer out of his hand and glared. The engine revved and he was gone. His pursuers drove past me a few seconds later. I turned around, frantically searching for the wick. Shining my cell phone along the wall, I finally located the brace. I looked at the timer: twenty seconds. I started counting down the seconds in my head, not because I needed to, but because my nerves were going crazy. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen. I listened to the motors. They were coming back toward me. I opened the box and fumbled a match out of the container, spilling half the contents on the ground. I closed the box and struck a match on the side. It wouldn't light. I struck it again and it broke in half. I frantically opened the box again, pulling out another match
—
two, just in case. I shined the dim light on the timer. Six, five, four. I struck the match
—
no luck. I chucked the broken match and held the other one up in the air. Pull it together. I blew off the match: maybe dust was keeping it from lighting. Yeah, matches break from dust. I rolled my eyes at myself as I struck the match on the box. It lit! I moved it to the wick, but the flame blew out. I let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed a match from the ground. The bikes were getting closer
.
I could see the lights approaching. I hurriedly struck the match and held it to the wick. The timer started beeping, signaling the end of the allotted time. I waited a moment, the small fire heating my finger. I wanted to fling it out of my hand. Come on, stupid wick. Just light! Cephas pulled into the alcove and gravel spun beneath his tires. I looked up at him and threw the short match onto the ground.

“You didn't light it yet?” he asked, his wide eyes growing impossibly wider in the dim light.

“It won't light!” I argued, striking another match on the box.

“Well, do you have a lighter?”

“Yeah, Cephas. I have a lighter
. T
hat's why I'm sitting here burning my finger with matches.” I scowled and struck the match.

“Do you want me to do it?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. The match lit and I held it to the wick. Sparks ignited from the end of the dynamite.

“I did it!” I exclaimed.

“Is that all I have to do to get you excited? Let you light explosives?” Cephas taunted as I hopped on the back of the bike.

“Cephas, they're coming,” I said, pointing at the approaching headlights.

“Do you think we should go?” he asked.

“I don't know, how far ahead of them are you supposed to be?”

“Oh, we missed that point a few seconds ago. Somebody couldn't light the dynamite.”

“Shut up,” I commanded, holding onto his waist. “Do you think we ought to go sometime soon?”

“Yeah, we ought to,” he said casually, revving the engine
. H
is eyes were alight with excitement

“Cephas!” I shouted. He let off the clutch and we tore off onto the trail. The back end of the bike jutted out in front of the other agents, cutting them off. The nearest bike spun violently in a circle and smashed against the mineshaft wall. I yelped at the noise and turned to face
Cephas’
back, clinging tighter to his abdomen.

“Cephas, they
—
I
—
” I stammered, the anxiety evident in my voice. He ignored me and increased our speed, riding deeper still into the mine.

“Why haven't they shot at us yet?” I asked. They were within range and simply followed us.

“Dominic won't kill us; if they kill you, they have no pull with your dad. Besides his own life, that is. I'd wager, though, that with his wife and only daughter dead, he wouldn't care much about living,” he shouted, all the while maneuvering through the narrow trail. He took a sudden turn onto a different path that took us back in the direction from which we had come. The bike accelerated to its original speed. I turned and saw the remaining agents following us up the new trail
. T
hey were a few minutes behind us. I faced the front and held on with all my might. The trail was taking us up and up, and I could see a light.

“Cephas! The end of the tunnel!”

“Yeah, let's see if we make it,” he muttered.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling my anxiety climax.

“Well
—
” his voice broke off as a loud noise exploded behind us. I screamed and grabbed onto Cephas, causing him to swerve all over the narrow pathway.

“Chill out! It's supposed to happen!”

“It is?” I shouted, still freaking out.

“Yes,” he muttered, pulling my hand off his neck; that must have been difficult to do at the speed we were traveling. “Just not that soon.”

“What!” I screamed.

“Hang on, okay!” he shouted, attempting to be heard above another explosion. He pushed the gas even further and I attempted to suppress another scream. A new noise reached my ears. I looked behind me: rocks and dirt were falling from the ceiling, tumbling down the trail. A rather large boulder landed in front of one of the agents and his bike plowed into the rock, exploding on contact. I buried my face in
Cephas’
back. The light was getting closer and closer. I heard one more explosion as we and the bike charged out the opening of the mine shaft. Soaring through the air, my voice cut off. I wasn't screaming anymore
—
I couldn't, in fact. It was like riding a really big roller coaster with an insane drop; the upward air is so forceful that you can't breathe, let alone scream. I got butterflies in my stomach as we fell down, down, down.