30. Thirty
The night settled over Camilla like a heavy shroud, transforming the landscape into a haunting, ethereal realm. She’d been right about being held in a cave, and wherever they were, she had to be near the river. The air swirled with the musky scent of decaying leaves, an unmistakable perfume of forgotten sorrows tangled with the familiar undertones of the silty Mississippi.
Mist slithered across the nearby murky waters, weaving its ghostly fingers around the gnarled roots of a cypress tree as if caressing secrets hidden within the ancient heartwood.
Mr. Pike’s grip remained firm yet not painful as his boots thumped an even rhythm across the moist ground. Humidity clung to every exposed inch of her skin like a clammy embrace. She squeezed her eyes shut and sent up another prayer for divine intervention as he carried her farther away from the cave and into the woods beyond.
Beneath the oppressive gloom, a symphony of insects echoed in harmony with the drumming of her heart. The chorus of throaty bullfrogs mingled with the haunting cries of water-bound creatures, their calls a discordant melody.
The moon, a pale luminescent orb, cast faint beams of light through the knotted canopy above, unruly tendrils reaching down to graze the indigo waters. If she could make it to the riverbank, she could swim to safety. Get her bearings or maybe even flag down a friendly vessel.
The Mighty Mississippi had been her home for decades. Now it had to be her salvation.
No. God alone would be her salvation. But perhaps he’d use her skills in the water to facilitate a miracle.
Mr. Pike’s hot breath swept across her face as he glanced back toward the cave and edged farther into the dense overgrowth. They were moving away from the water.
Bile burned up her throat, but she had to remain calm. Lure him into a sense of security by underestimating her. As soon as he put her feet on the ground, she’d make a run for it.
The moonlight’s spectral glow revealed the twisted gnarls of ancient roots creeping out from the mire, like skeletal fingers clawing toward the surface, seeking release from their watery prison. She could only pray she wouldn’t find herself buried with them.
Mr. Pike stopped, his chest rising and falling against her with the effort of carrying her so far. Had he taken her where no one would hear her scream? She bit down on the filthy rag in her mouth.
“I need you to promise not to scream, or you’ll get us both killed.” Mr. Pike’s eyes filled with worry in the moonlight.
Was it possible he did mean to set her free? Why?
She blinked at him, unable to do anything else with the way her insides quivered.
Give me strength, please, Lord.
Pike’s gaze shifted over the shadowed landscape. “I didn’t plan on any of this. I was just a lad who needed to survive. Then I was a greedy youth with high ambitions and bendable morals. I don’t even know what I am now.” He set her feet on the ground. “But for all the things I’ve done, I would never force myself on a woman.”
Camilla gained her footing and prepared to bolt, but the pleading in his gaze arrested her.
“There ain’t no treasure, miss. Nothing but a tangle of secrets you don’t want no part of. Get your fella and his family and get out of here.”
Her heart fluttered as he held her arm in one hand and fiddled with something at his side. Could she snatch away from him and slip into the shadows? Surely he would catch her in a matter of steps.
A glint of metal caught in the moonlight. Was that…?
A scream tore its way from her chest and up her throat and lodged against the filthy rag.
“Easy. I don’t want to cut you.” With a quick raspy sound, her hands came free.
Camilla stumbled back a step and came up against a tree. The man pointed behind her.
“Just through the trees, there is the road. Go left, and you’ll reach the city cemetery.” He sheathed the knife underneath his jacket. “I’ll stall him as long as I can. It’s not enough, but it’s the best I can do.”
She needed to run. Flee before he changed his mind. Yet her feet wouldn’t move. Perhaps the panic had rendered her numb, or God had granted her a little of that peace no one could understand, because she removed the gag from her mouth and words she wouldn’t have expected came free.
“God has mercy on those who call on his name.”
The man’s jaw went slack.
Panic slammed back into her chest, and she whirled around. Her feet caught on roots and shadows as she plunged into the darkness.
Her heart drummed, matching the rhythm of her labored breaths. She pushed herself forward, stumbling through the thick underbrush. Fear coursed through her veins like venom, paralyzing every rational thought that attempted to surface.
Any moment his fingers would grab her. He’d laugh as he lived out the cruel game of cat and mouse. She couldn’t risk slowing or taking a straight path.
He couldn’t let her go. And even if he did, no doubt the devilish man in the cave would come for her. She’d seen their secret camp hidden deep within the woods, concealed among the ancient trees and twisted roots. They’d want to silence her forever.
Branches whipped at her face, leaving angry welts in their scathing wake, but she didn’t dare slow down. Her mind conjured haunting whispers and ghostly figures lurking just beyond the reach of her vision.
Please, God. Guide my feet.
The forest closed in around her, suffocating. Shadows danced menacingly, mocking her desperate attempt to outrun the inevitable.
Up ahead, the tangle of overgrown kudzu thinned. She veered left where a steep incline had her nearly crawling, using her hands to assist her scramble. If she’d been below a ravine near the riverbank, then higher ground would surely take her closer to Natchez and safety.
Tears blurred the edges of her vision, mingling with the sweat and dirt on her cheeks. But despair could not extinguish the flicker of hope burning deep within her. No shouts came. No footsteps pounded closer.
Summoning her last vestiges of strength, Camilla surged forward and burst through the tangle of vines. Moonlight cascaded across a slithering line of dirt.
The road. Just as he’d said.
She turned left and jogged, rocks crunching beneath her boots. Only a lonely owl answered her winded cries for help. Her chest burned, and sweat streaked down her face. She’d escaped.
But what if they’d taken her somewhere miles from town? How long had she been unconscious? Surely they couldn’t have a murderous cave so close to Natchez without anyone knowing.
Up ahead, bony fingers reached toward the sky. She squinted in the milky light. What were those…?
Headstones. The cemetery.
A cry of relief poured through her dry lips. People didn’t bury loved ones far from civilization. And if the iron fence gave any indication, she hadn’t left Natchez at all.
Souls did not haunt their body’s resting place, but she still didn’t want to traipse near on a night like tonight. Keeping to the other side of the road, she willed her heaving lungs to gather more dusty air and increased her pace.
Up ahead, flickers of light glowed promises of salvation. She could make it. Her feet pounded on as she ignored the burn in her lungs.
A growling rose up behind her, shattering the slumber of the dead and startling a flock of crows. Two glowing eyes rounded the bend.
Not eyes. Headlights.
The roar of a motorcar’s engine churned a cloud of dust as the vehicle barreled her way. Friendly folks who would whisk her from this nightmare? Or her captors already on her trail?
God help her. She couldn’t run much more.
Sucking air, Camilla dove for the shadows at the edge of the gravel and crouched in the ditch. Better she make it to town on her own where crowds offered safety than risk seeking help from strangers on a deserted road in the middle of the night. She pressed her body to the ground, scents of dirt and grass clogging her nostrils as her lungs fought to fill and release.
The lights approached, carrying the sound of crunching tires.
Just as she thought they would safely pass, the motorcar slowed.
And a bright beam of light swept over her.