59

Kaboom!

The thickening storm clouds on the horizon were another reason Deilune worried. Since touching down in a barren field near the very foot of Mount Breima at dawn, Deilune could see their situation growing bleaker.

After landing, Beilla and Abzeig, unloaded their supplies and then cleverly draped a large camouflage tarp over the plane, making it more difficult to locate from the air. They gave Deilune and Linda a breakfast of stale energy bars and canned caffeine drinks. Then marched them up a long dusty trail for most of the morning and early afternoon.

Deilune stayed at Linda’s side when the trail was wide enough, but Beilla, who led the way, forbade them to speak. Patting the gun at his side was how Abzeig reminded them to obey. Deilune was concerned that the rigor of the trail and the stress might quicky fatigue them, but Linda was able to reassure him by squeezing his hand that she was doing okay.

Their trek was slow going at times because Beilla seemed a bit uncertain about the trail. He and Abzeig would stop, examine various landmarks, exchange cross words, then head on. By late afternoon, as distant rumblings of thunder sounded in the distance, Beilla led them to a rough-hewn cabin near a small lake.

Once in the crude cabin, Abzeig quickly built a fire to ward off the considerable chill of the altitude. While unpacking his gear, Beilla opened the padded envelope and pulled out a thin flight log instead of the pain of stained glass, the missing piece.

He immediately turned on Deilune. “Fool! Trajeime!” He threw the useless book at Deilune. “You will not delay us with your tricks. Abzeig, get them out of our way so we can make preparations.”

Abzeig thrust them in a cramped storage room and bolted the door from the other side. They had just enough room to sit side by side on the rough-hewn floorboards, their backs against tall cupboards.

“Sorry about that,” Deilune said.

“I’m glad you did it. Beilla needs to know we’re not here to going to make this easy for him.”

“He’s pretty determined, though.” Deilune took Linda’s hand in his and gave it a kiss. “At least we’ll have some quiet time together.”

As if on cue, a massive crack of thunder rocked the small cabin. Linda gasped, and Deilune hugged her close. “I guess I spoke too soon,” he whispered.

For over an hour, the sky boomed and wailed above them, and Deilune held Linda.

As the thunderstorm began to wan, Beilla unbolted the door, allowing them to use the outhouse. Then their captors fed them some bread, cheese and water before locking them back in the storage room with a musty but very heavy wool blanket. Under the blanket, Deilune sang softly to Linda. Old Lebreiman lullabies from his youth. Soon she was asleep.

Tired as he was, Deilune couldn’t sleep. He listened to Linda’s even breathing, grateful she was getting some rest. The storm had passed, and in the quiet, he tried to fashion a plan that might provide them a chance at escape. After all, he figured that he’d been killed once. He was undead. This situation shouldn’t completely rattle him.

KABOOM!

The explosion not only rattled him, but shook Linda awake. “What was that, Dale?” she asked breathlessly. “That didn’t sound like thunder.”

“You’re right. That sounded man-made. Beilla’s up to something.” He clutched Linda’s trembling form tighter. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll get out of this. We’ll be okay.”

Linda buried her head in his shoulder. “I keep thinking of Nick and Lottica. Here in this strange country having to deal with…all that’s happened to us.”

“They’ll be fine. They’ll be fine,” he whispered in an effort to soothe her worries. In his own heart, Kareima or not, Deilune feared that things were going from bad to worse to beyond-undead dastardly.