she clamped her right hand over the pain in her left side.
She crept back toward the corner in the dark, eyes searching for any sign of Dawson's flashlight, listening for movement or voices.
Everything remained still and dark.
###
Evil bitches.
James Dawson clamped down on his rage.
Going after them was an indulgence he couldn't afford.
He didn't know which one of them had fired the lucky shot that had hit him in the leg but it didn't matter. Once he put the Declaration up for auction, he'd have more than enough money to pay off the treasure hunters and the doctors. He'd find a new doctor, a new treatment for Adele. And once she was well, he'd publish a book about the Declaration. His professional life was about to take off. Talk about turning lemons into lemonade.
It wasn't like he was stealing. No one really owned the document after all.
He pulled off his hood, folded it into a pad and strapped it to the wound on his leg with his belt. That would have to do until he was able to get somewhere safe.
There was no way of knowing how far the sound of the shots had carried and he wanted to be away from here before anyone had a chance to come investigate.
He picked up the cracked jar and headed out of the cave.
He'd been away from Adele for too long. She'd be worried about him and ready for her medication.
No Way In Hell
Lucy took a deep breath and peeked around the corner.
No sign of Dawson's light.
Either he was waiting in the dark for her to show herself or he was gone.
Lucy was betting her life on gone.
After all, he got what he came for.
She stepped out and shuffled a few steps back toward the hole, prepared to turn and run if the light reappeared.
It didn't.
She shuffled a few more steps in the pitch black, making enough noise that Dawson would be able to hear her if he was waiting in the dark.
When all remained quiet and dark, Lucy dared to turn her headlamp back on. She held her breath but no shot rang out and no light came on.
She hurried back to the hole ignoring the wetness under her right hand and called down to Mae and Jane. "Everyone okay down there?"
"No worse than before the shooting," Mae called back. "What about you?"
"I'm not sure. I think I have a little wound in my side."
Lucy heard Jane say, "Shit."
"I'm on my way up," Mae said.
Lucy sat down near the hole and waited clamping down on her impatience. She didn't want to waste time. If she was seriously wounded wouldn't she be feeling weak by now?
Mae climbed back out of the hole at a record pace without a single twinge of vertigo. Amazing what a crisis could do for a phobia.
When she saw the blood covering Lucy from just below her left breast to her knee, Mae blanched.
"Lay down," Mae ordered.
Seeing the look on Mae's face, Lucy didn't argue. She must be a pretty terrifying sight. "It doesn't really hurt now."
Mae knelt down next to her. "Move your hand so I can see."
"I'm afraid to," Lucy said. Now that it came to it, she was scared. She'd seen those war movies where the guy takes his hand away from a wound and his guts fall out. She didn't want her guts to fall out.
"You have to. I can't see anything."
Lucy took that as a good sign. Her hands weren't all that big. If one hand covered the wound it couldn't be too large. She lifted her hand. Nothing happened.
Mae leaned down, focusing her headlamp on Lucy's side.
There was a tear in Lucy's coveralls about two inches long. Mae spread the sides of the tear apart, looked in the gap and breathed a sigh of relief. "Looks like all the damage was to your skin. I think the bullet only grazed your side. It's still oozing but I think we can stop that with a makeshift bandage."
She rummaged through the pack she'd brought up with her and came up with an extra pair of socks. "This should do." She unrolled the balled socks, folded them in half and pulled the top of one back over making a thick, flat bandage.
Mae used her Swiss Army knife to cut a strap from Lucy's backpack to hold the bandage in place.
"You have to hurry," Lucy said as Mae strapped the bandage in place.
"What for? You're not bleeding to death and Jane seems to be past the shock