CS 01 The Grail Conspiracy Read Free Page A

elbow, redirecting the aim of the weapon just as
it discharged. The blast was deafening in the hard-walled chamber.
    The Arab straddled Archer, forcing the gun into the old man's
cheekbone. With a loud grunt, Archer kicked his knee up, driving the
Arab forward and ramming his head into the wall. Dazed, the man let
up for an instant, and Archer scrambled out from under him. The
Arab lifted the pistol, took aim, and Archer dove for it, crashing down
hard on his opponent.
    The gun wedged between them.
    A second shot pealed, but their bodies muffled this one.
    Cotten held her breath as both men lay motionless. The chamber
fell silent except for the sound of her blood pulsing in her ears and
the thudding of her heart against her ribs.

    Then, finally, Archer moved, slowly rolling off the Arab. A red
blotch stained the front of his shirt. More blood seeped from the
Arab's chest.
    Archer struggled to his feet and stood over the dead man. His
chest heaved and labored as he wiped his face on his sleeve. He picked
up the box, his tree-knot knuckles blanching as he clutched it.
    He coughed and straightened, eyes fixing on Cotten. He squinted,
staggering a few steps before slumping to the ground. "My heart," he
said, grabbing his chest.
    Cotten dropped her bag and moved cautiously, checking behind
her. She stared at the body of the Arab as she stepped past him.
    "What can I do?" she asked, kneeling next to Archer. "I'll go get
help."
    "No." Archer reached for her hand. A cough wracked him, and
Cotten elevated his head in her lap.
    "The box," he said. "Take it." He looked over at the dead man.
"They will stop at nothing now."
    "Who? What do you mean?"
    His face twisted with a wave of pain. Hands shaking, he pushed
the box toward her. His skin paled, his lips darkened. "You must not
let them have it."
    "What is this?" she asked.
    His voice was weak, not much more than a whisper. "Twenty-six,
twenty-seven, twenty-eight, Matthew."
    "I don't understand."
    He didn't answer, appearing to stare straight through her. Then
Archer motioned her closer, and she leaned in to hear as he whispered.
    She shook her head in confusion. "Please, you aren't making any
sense. You want me to stop the sun ... the dawn?"
    He seemed to rally, lifting his head, his voice suddenly strong as
he spoke. "Geh el crip."

    Cotten reeled. He couldn't have said what she thought she heard. It
was impossible. Impossible. Archer had spoken a language she hadn't
heard since she was a child. Only one other person had ever spoken to
her in that language-her twin sister.
    Her dead twin sister.

     

HOMECOMING

    "How COULD YOU KNOW those words?" Cotten asked, her voice
shaky.
    But Archer's eyes were already closed. His grip loosened, and his
head slowly fell back, chest still.
    Archer was dead.
    The string of bulbs blinked, and then went dark. The generator
must have run out of fuel, she guessed. Carefully, she moved Archer's
head from her lap. She couldn't help him now, and with only one
truck left, there was no time to waste.
    Afraid she might trip over debris, she tucked the box under her
arm and crawled through the blackness in what she hoped was the
direction of the tunnel. Suddenly, the earth shook and the walls
quaked. Cotten curled over her knees and shielded her head, waiting
for the ceiling to collapse. Dust and sand filtered down, collecting in
her hair and on the backs of her hands. Small stones pummeled her
back. Had bombs dropped somewhere close?

    The rumble subsided, and she continued crawling. Her bag wasn't
that far away, but moving in the pitch-black room was slow going. As
her hand touched the floor, she recoiled.
    The Arab's blood.
    Cotten cringed and wiped the blood off her hand on the dead
man's pants leg. When she reached the wall she felt her way to the
tunnel opening where she had left her bag. Her fingers groped
through the nylon carryall until she found her penlight.
    The bulb flickered when she twisted the tip