Dance with the Devil (28 page)

A strange feeling stirred in him. Since his mother's death, no woman except Ivy had ever cared for him. Before Ivy there had been women, many women, who'd given him the satisfaction his powerful body had craved. But no-one had ever
cared
for him. Offered him tenderness. Now a woman he had abducted, tied up, caused to be afraid, had shown him compassion and caring. It was more than he could comprehend.

He pushed himself up, waited for the dizziness to ease. With his right hand, he eased his left into his belt so his wounded arm was cradled against his body. Without a sling, it would have to suffice.

Through the trees he could see the distant figures moving out of the cave. The thoughts in his head were jumbled, and he was confused as to why he needed to follow them, but he only knew he must. God had a plan for him, and he had to obey.

Drew had decided not to go back the way Morgan had come. Instead, he chose to go lower down on the mountain where he hoped their passage would be a little easier. Emma had taped his rib, but every step brought pain and he knew he would have to conserve his strength for the steep mountain they had traversed yesterday afternoon.

He wore Emma's pack and carried the rifle, but she had insisted on carrying the baby. Bethany whimpered continuously. At times she broke into a loud wail that Drew feared Morgan would hear if he was following them. But the baby was alive, which was more than he'd thought probable when they'd set out after Morgan.

His admiration for Emma grew with each hour they walked. He'd set as fast a pace as he could, hoping to get as much distance as possible between them and Morgan. He knew Emma was exhausted, knew her arms ached from carrying the baby, but she kept walking, stoically accepting the necessity for their haste.

The jungle closed in around them, cool and moist, laying vines and roots to trip them, branches and fronds to scratch their faces, their arms. Too tired now to notice the magnificent staghorns and elkhorns that proliferated in the treetops, and barely registering the decaying smell of leaf mould, they kept walking.

They heard a plane in the distance, and Drew quickly gathered some material to light a fire, but the sound faded before he could even flick the lighter. The disappointment on Emma's face made him ache to reach out and comfort her, but she simply shrugged her shoulders in resignation, and they kept walking.

When they hadn't come to two of the creeks they'd crossed on the way to the cave, Drew became concerned. If the creeks had joined up, they might be too deep to wade through. He prayed that problem wouldn't eventuate.

In spite of the painkillers Emma had given him, the pain in Drew's ribs eventually forced him to take a break. They rested on a fallen log, lichen and fungus encrusting the softened bark. His concern for Emma grew as he watched the dispirited way in which she took the pieces of orange he cut up for her. She had made more formula and fed it to the baby, reluctantly acknowledging the necessity of not wasting time to start a fire and boil the water. Now Bethany slept, snuggled like a koala into the crook of Emma's arm. In Drew's shirt, Emma looked like a child dressing up in her parents' clothes.

Drew's heart constricted as he watched her, and he cursed Morgan for the terror he'd brought into their lives.

They heard the water before they saw it. Heard the rushing, the churning, the gurgling over rocks and swirling into holes.

And when they saw it, despair nearly brought Emma to her knees. She was tired, desperately tired, emotionally as well as physically. So much had happened in such a short time that she felt almost shell-shocked. The rational part of her mind told her she had been extended close to her emotional limits by the strain of caring for her father, but she was far from feeling rational as she looked at the obstacle before them.

Drew cursed himself for taking the lower route. The terrain had tricked him. On the higher section there had been nothing to indicate this enormous fissure in the mountain. A hundred metres above, the hillside seemed to have slipped down in large chunks, forming several small tree-covered plateaus that fell sharply away to the next.

About ten metres above them, a torrent of water rushed down a chute about a metre wide, formed by huge boulders. Below them, it cascaded further down the mountain, pouring into a series of pools. There was no way they could cross, and it was far too steep to climb down to the plateau below.

Drew scanned the slope in front of them. It didn't seem so severe. There was no choice. They couldn't go down, and they couldn't go back for fear of walking into Morgan.

Emma saw the worry in Drew's eyes as he looked at her.

'We have to climb up, Emma. If we go back we could run into Morgan. And we have to get Bethany home.'

He reached for her and held her gently, touching the baby's head in a tender caress. Emma felt the heat of his skin against her cheek, allowed his warmth to seep into her, giving her strength. He took the pack from his shoulders, his movements slow but steady. 'Put Bethany in the pack. Settle her so that she won't suffocate. You'll need both hands to climb.'

And she did. Clawing at the undergrowth, she hauled herself upwards. Centimetre by dirty, muscle-wrenching centimetre. When she reached the gentle slope near the top of the boulders that formed the chute, Emma flopped down on the bracken and watched Drew's slow progress.

Burdened by the pack and the rifle, and the restrictions of his broken rib, he was forced to stop frequently to catch his breath. Each time he listened intently, anxious for a sound to reassure him of the baby's safety. But the darkness and protection of the pack must have given Bethany comfort, for only the odd gurgle reached his ears.

By the time he reached the plateau he was trembling with fatigue. He knew that Morgan, in spite of his injuries, was adept at trekking through the rainforest, and each delay they faced gave him a chance to catch them. The rifle was heavy in his hands, and Drew knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot to kill. He wasn't going to let Morgan take Emma from him again. He was surprised at the depth of the love he felt for her. Each time she had been in danger, he'd felt as though his heart had been wrenched from his chest. He would gladly give his life to protect her.

Emma eased the pack from his shoulders and unzipped it. Bethany began to cry as Emma brought her out into the sunshine, then she quietened as Emma cuddled her. The tense lines on Emma's face relaxed as she crooned to the baby. Again Drew felt a rush of desire to have Emma pregnant with his child. He recognised the urge for what it was - a need to bond her to him in an irrevocable, if not primitive way - but he couldn't suppress it. He wanted her in every way it was possible for a man to want a woman.

The next plateau loomed above a slope so steep it was almost vertical. With a sinking feeling in his guts, Drew acknowledged the restrictions of their situation - if they couldn't get across the creek here, their only option was to turn back the way they had come.

He stood and walked to the creek. He climbed on top of a smaller boulder and looked down to the water five metres below. This part of the creek had formed into a large pool. A very deep, large pool, the water clean and clear but without a visible bottom in its green depths. The boulders surrounding the sides were immense; smooth in texture, grey in colour. The still surface of the water was deceptive, the occasional swirl around the boulders, and the force of it pouring through the chute, indicative of the swift current below.

The despondency that threatened to engulf him lifted as he gazed upstream. There appeared to be another pool only about two metres above this one, with a series of smaller boulders and rocks separating the two. Although the water was racing over those rocks, it appeared to be wide and shallow enough that they might be able to cross.

He looked back at Emma sitting in the bracken, her eyes half-closed as she rocked Bethany. If he wasn't so sure that Morgan would follow them, he would allow her the luxury of a few hours sleep. But the man's jungle skills were amazing, and Drew felt a prickle of apprehension down his spine as he thought that even now Morgan could be watching them, waiting for the right time to pounce. That thought was enough to make him walk back and get Emma to go to the crossing with him. He would try to cross first, and if he succeeded, would go back and bring her across.

Emma watched as Drew stepped cautiously from rock to rock, then he was calf deep in the swiftly flowing water as he walked over the slab of rock that formed a natural causeway. The rock was worn smooth, tapering gently downwards. She knew she should be worried that he might slip, but her exhaustion had her operating on automatic now, too tired to think, her actions merely responsive to Drew's commands. She could see him feeling with his feet, testing the firmness before putting all his weight down. It seemed like an eternity before he was safely on the other side.

He turned and called out to her. 'I'll put the rifle and my pack on the ground. This rock's too rounded - they'll fall off. Then I'll come and get Bethany from you.' She watched him disappear into the shadows of the overhanging trees.

Drew was bigger and stronger, but Emma had seen his face as he'd climbed up to the plateau. She knew that in spite of the tape holding his ribs, he was suffering terribly as the broken bones ground together. He had carried the rifle and the pack with their sneakers inside, but a wriggling baby was a different matter, and far too risky to carry across the creek in the pack. She wasn't going to let him take that risk. Holding the baby against her chest, she stepped onto the first rock. The water covered her feet. It was cold, ice cold. As though she could feel the sudden tensing of Emma's body, Bethany began to cry. Emma stepped onto the next rock, then out onto the rock slab.

For a moment she stood motionless, allowing her body to adjust to the coldness that turned her legs numb to her knees, then she continued. She was almost halfway when Bethany sneezed, her little head bouncing off Emma's chest. Instinctively, Emma shifted her hand higher to protect the baby's head. The movement was just enough to twist her body slightly. Her right foot began to slide off the rock and, as she tried to stop it, her left foot slid the other way.

In horror she felt her balance go completely, and she slid, like a child on a slippery-slide, into the pool below.

Emma thrust Bethany high as the water closed over her. The cold shocked her to the core and instinctively she kicked, forcing her body upwards. She broke the surface, kicking furiously. Bethany was thoroughly wet, but too shocked with cold to cry.

The current pulled at Emma, trying to suck her down, around. She lay on her back, holding Bethany out of the water, kicked harder, then realised she was heading into the middle of the pool. Terror seized her as she registered the muted roar of the torrent rushing through the chute. She changed direction and headed for the side where she could now see Drew racing over the boulders. His voluminous shirt dragged at her, slowing her pace.

Drew's heart beat a frantic tattoo in his chest. His first instinct had been to dive into the pool after Emma, but he'd quickly realised he would never catch up to her in time. His best bet would be to try to get to the chute and grab her before she went over. Whether he could hold her against the force of the water was debatable, but he would rather die trying to save her than live with her death.

When he saw her start kicking towards the side, a wild hope surged in him. If she could make it out of the current it would give him time to find something to lower down to her to grab. The sheer size of the boulders prevented him from reaching her in any other way.

The pool was not completely round on this side. An immense boulder jutting out into the pool formed a small sickle moon. There was a man-sized crevice between that boulder and the one before it that Emma hoped she could reach. Even her vigorous kicking couldn't stop the shivering that spasmed her body, and she was desperately afraid she would lose her grip on Bethany. As soon as her shock had worn off, Bethany had begun to cry, and the child's plaintive wail added to Emma's worry.

Just as she thought she was making some headway against the current, it swirled viciously, carrying her out past the giant boulder.

With desperation borne of sheer terror, she kicked out with every ounce of strength left in her body. As she swept past the boulder, she clutched Bethany with one hand and stretched out with the other. Her fingers slipped over the smooth roundness, searching for a hold. One finger hooked into a small hole and she dug it in madly.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to allow her to swing her body around the boulder, out of the fiercer pull of the current. Her feet scrabbled for a hold, but found none. Then the edge of the hole gave way.

Just as the current began to pull her out, her foot touched something solid. Frantically she pushed down with both feet and pressed back, anchoring herself between her life-saving foothold and the boulder. The water was almost over her shoulders. She gulped erratic breaths deep into her lungs, trying to stop the shivering.

Bethany's wails had subdued to pathetic whimpers. Her face and hands were blue with cold, and Emma knew she would have to warm her somehow. Because the boulder stuck out from the others it wasn't in the shade, so Emma gently pressed Bethany's tiny body against the sun-warmed stone.

'Emma!'

Drew's voice came from above her head. She looked up to see him lying on top of the boulder, frustration and fear warring for dominance on his face.

'Can you touch bottom?'

'No.' She moved her feet and felt the uneven shape beneath them. 'I seem to be standing on a log. It's probably a tree that was washed into the pool during the cyclone.'

'Don't move. I'm going to try to get to you.'

Emma nodded wearily. Moving wasn't an option. If she lost her footing on the log, nothing short of a miracle would stop them being swept into the chute. She gazed across the green water with its swirls and eddies, watching a slight breeze rustle the leaves on the trees behind the boulders. Gentle sunshine bathed the scene, creating an illusion of warmth and safety. To Emma it felt incredibly unreal that in such peaceful surroundings she was so close to death. Then she looked at the chute such a short distance away, heard the water churning on the rock face below it, and shuddered.