The tops of the walls surrounding the courtyard had crumbled, spilling a jumble of boulders and cement across the ground, but the main portico gate and wooden entrance was still intact. Jogging across the courtyard, Ben pulled open the wooden entrance door. His bag should be just to the right, not more than twenty feet away. Stepping through the door, he stopped in his tracks. “My God…”
The valley of Saline, to his right, glowed red—a carpet of magma stretching from Monterufoli, further than he could see in the dust and dirt. Dark vortexes churned the sky, lightning crackling sideways through clouds that billowed almost to the ground, all lit in a pulsing dull red. A blast of hot wind rose up from the valley, covering Ben and Roger in flaming ashes.
Dusting off his arms, Ben forced himself to focus and began searching along the wall. “Over there,” he yelled to Roger. He pointed at an arch in the half-destroyed wall, just visible in the beam of his headlamp. Roger nodded, but instead of coming toward Ben, he walked the opposite direction, away from the wall.
“Where are you going? It’s here!” Ben yelled. Monterufoli boomed in the distance, the concussion waves echoing off the hills. The wind howled. “Roger!” Ben screamed. “Come back. It’s just here.”
Roger had disappeared into the swirling maelstrom.
Ben swore. What the hell? He hesitated, almost ran to fetch Roger, but stopped. The bag. He needed his bag. He ran under the arch, down the steps below it into the wall, and there, in the light of his headlamp, just where he left it in the corner of the half-basement, was Ben’s backpack. He crossed over and picked it up, then jogged back up the stairs. Easy.
“Roger!” Ben screamed again. “I’ve got it.”
Something caught Ben’s eye. Someone coming through the entrance door through the wall. But it wasn’t Roger. “Celeste? What are you doing?”
She stared down the valley, her eyes wide, her scarf wrapped around her mouth.
“Honey, I’ve got it.” He ran to her. “Let’s get back—”
A crunching concussion knocked Ben off his feet, throwing him sideways. His ears rang. He shook his head and propped himself up, using his left hand to take off his glasses so he could wipe his stinging eyes with the back his hand holding the backpack. The ground around him was littered with boulders. Glancing behind him, the wall section he’d just been into was completely gone. Blasted to the ground.
Celeste pulled him to his feet. “Are you hurt?” she screamed over the wind, dragging him toward the opening in the wall.
Ben shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Where’s Roger?””
Ben pointed into the churning darkness. “He went that way.” He turned to his wife. “Why did you come up here?” he yelled through his cloth.
“I’m not leaving you alone again.” Celeste reached up to wipe dirt off her husband’s glasses. She stroked his cheek. “Whatever we do, we do it together from now on. Okay?”
The ground juddered, sending a shower of pebbles onto them from the wall.
Ben stared into his wife’s eyes. “Okay. Together. No matter what.” It was too dangerous to keep her up here. If Roger didn’t come back in ten minutes, he’d come back with Leone to search for him.
Ben reached for the door, but had the sensation of something horribly wrong. Looking up, a dark shape rushed toward him. He grabbed Celeste, cradled her underneath him as a three-story wall of stone collapsed onto them. Straining, he did his best to hold it back, but the crushing weight fractured his arms and his legs. The mountain of rock cracked and crushed his chest, squeezing out every drop of air. As blackness descended, an image flickered in his mind, of Jess as a child, holding Billy in her arms.
Please, no…
41
CHIANTI, ITALY
JESS SHIVERED AND tried to find a comfortable angle to lean on Giovanni, her thigh resting on the wooden floor of the wine cave with her head nestled on Giovanni’s stomach. She knew he was doing his best to accommodate her. He had a gunshot wound through the flesh on the right of his chest, and was beaten mercilessly the night before. Still, Jess needed someone, perhaps for the first time in her life, to hold her close and tell her everything would be all right.
She hated feeling trapped, and the walls of the caves seemed to close in around her. The air felt fetid, and a fine dust covered everything. Buried alive. That’s how she felt.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Giovanni murmured. He stroked Jess’s hair.
Jess nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. Hector was curled between them, a blanket covering the three of them together. Hector coughed and grimaced.
The air was rancid. It literally stank like hell. Brimstone. Jess knew it was hydrogen sulfide from the volcano. It was one of the last things her mother had explained to her. She wondered what other gases they were breathing in. A headache banged inside her skull. Giovanni had one too. They all did.