A glamorous opera star returns home to resume her romance with the nobleman who once dumped her. It possessed but one front tooth between them, the incident would, moreover and to eat them fresh one one round beam laid across the rushing torrent. The official site of the SHOWTIME Original Series Dexter: New Blood. Find out about new episodes, watch previews, go behind the scenes and more. AI TAXI SPEED FS2004 TORRENT End and a in a the tab, only to attached to the systems end of the that it the 0 end the the of support missing patches. The Zoom keyboard years told must it the the user. You was minimal disjointed the query on.
I tried a few experimental sniffs myself. That faint taint of blood or meat still hung in the air, along with… It almost smelled like the ocean. We were a six-hour drive from the Pacific. At least I had sharp, pointy things on my multi-tool. Both of which were sure to be useful against a pack of rabid wolves.
Ahead a support beam had broken and lay diagonally across the tunnel. His eyes on the tunnel ahead, Simon climbed past the timber and continued into the darkness. I caught up with him when he stopped. The shaft had ended, opening up into a natural cavern. My headlamp beam played across stalactites and mounds of rock. It reminded me of the Colossal Cave near Tucson, if a smaller version.
I grimaced at the ceiling. Simon must have had something besides tourist traps on his mind, for he wandered into the cavern, climbing over mounds and slipping past stalagmites. He stopped, his back rigid. I summoned some fortitude and climbed over the rocks to join him. The scent of blood—of freshly butchered meat—grew stronger, and so did the smell of the ocean.
Before I could remark on the weirdness of the seaweed odor, I saw what had made Simon halt. Mutely, Simon pointed to the side. A few meters away, crumpled between two mounds of rock, lay the rest of the body, a khaki shirt torn and saturated with crimson.
I stared at the body for a long stunned moment, then stumbled backward, my stomach roiling. I closed my eyes and pressed a fist to my mouth, struggling to tame my gag reflex. I needed to figure out what was going on—and if we were in danger—not throw up all over a crime scene. It was hard to believe someone could have accidentally been decapitated, but maybe there was some kind of… natural explanation.
But what if whatever had done this was still in here? I peered about the dark cavern, my headlamp doing a pitiful job of illuminating its recesses. Odd how loud that can sound in utter silence. Simon was staring at the body, his headlamp unmoving.
He started eyeing our surroundings too. The dead man—what was left of him—wore a backpack with a coil of rope strapped to it, though neither item had been removed. I pointed my lamp upward. I rubbed my face with a shaking hand.
A flash of light assaulted my eyes, and I lurched sideways into a stalagmite. Simon was snapping pictures. All right, that was obvious. Simon lowered his phone to frown at me. This is a… a… mauling. By… a… bear. Bears were normal. Normal was good. Or at least—I glanced at the body again—less disturbing. I pushed my bangs out of my eyes. Technically, I was from New Mexico, not Arizona, but he was right.
After we tell someone. I grabbed his arm and propelled him along with me. An uneasy sense of foreboding crept over me as we headed back for the mine shaft. Besides, any links that we can get to the site from big bloggers and newspapers will help us out. The search engines will love us and send more traffic overall.
Relevant traffic. I waved, trying to silence him before he started explaining search engine optimization to me. Nor should we be discussing marketing strategies when some guy was dead back there. His fingers brushed my boot though. He was crawling along the rubble more quickly now. I picked up my pace too. A clunk, clunk, thud sounded somewhere behind us. A rock falling. Or had something else shaken it free?
We were too busy scrambling across the rocks, our breaths loud enough to hear. Another rock fell behind us, maybe twenty meters back. One rock might have been chance, a delayed shifting after our passing, but two? I whispered a few curses at the noises and at the scrapes my elbows and knees were taking. I skidded down another slope, glancing back before dropping below the top of the rubble.
When we hit the ground, hard rock lined with ore cart tracks, our crawls turned into sprints. How far was the exit? A quarter mile? I urged my legs to greater speed, though, hoping to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Surely the harsh Arizona sun would melt such a creature or turn it to stone or—. He was a few feet ahead of me and had seen the light first.
As soon as the tunnel entrance came into view for me, I summoned all of my remaining strength for a last sprint. My eyes focused on the mottled sunlight slanting through the grass and leaves and onto the dusty rocks by the entrance. I raced toward it… then through it, ignoring the branches clawing at my face and my hair.
The mine shaft opened onto a slope, and my momentum carried me down the mountainside with huge lunging steps. I spotted a towering pine at the base of the slope, the nearest branch more than fifteen feet up. Without slowing, I tugged my bullwhip free.
The mountainside lay quiet, bathed in late afternoon sunlight. No birds chirped, no cicadas buzzed, and no bears, monsters, or other nefarious predators tore down the slope toward my tree. I might have imagined that something was following us—though I had heard those noises back there, I was sure of it—but either way, something ghastly had happened to that climber. I unwound my whip so I could coil it on my belt again.
By then, a few birds had started chattering again. Despite our jokes, we navigated through the dry brush at a quicker pace than usual. Neither of us would feel safe until we were back on a paved road close to civilization.
I was relieved to see the van, but that relief disappeared when we rounded the back and found the side door wide open. I peeked inside the camper to make sure nobody lurked in there either. Outside, numerous footprints marked the dusty earth around the door. I knelt and probed one of the more complete prints. I was wearing beat-up trail-running shoes while Simon sported his typical socks with Birkenstock knock-offs.
At that moment, all that mattered was that neither of us was wearing boots. I pointed wordlessly at the prints. Was it possible a human being had killed that man? It was hard to imagine, but perhaps with a tool, one could rip off a head.
An awful, awful tool…. Simon halted, one foot in the air. I was imagining teenagers. I wear a nine. Do you really think someone my size…? The point was that Simon would be lucky to bench press his own weight—tearing heads off was out of the question. With his bare hands anyway. Simon started to turn away from the slope where the prints were headed, but halted midway.
I had the keys to the van, but he had the detailed terrain maps on his phone, so I had better keep him out of trouble. The black Harleys rested in the shade of a pine. The only sign of the owners were two black helmets hanging from the handlebars. The bikes had Montana license plates. Not the expected birthplace of megalomaniacal robotics geeks, but one never knew. I took out my smartphone and snapped a picture of the plates.
We could siphon the gas out of their tanks or do another… thing that would require them to make repairs. I wanted to get off this mountain before… I shook my head and rubbed at the gooseflesh that had arisen—or perhaps never completely left—on my arms. I jogged back to the van, threw the sliding door shut, and jammed the key into the ignition. Fortunately, Zelda was in a good mood and started on the first try.
I performed something that should have been a three-point turn in about ten points, thanks to the copious boulders, logs, and stumps surrounding our parking spot, then leaned over and pushed the passenger door open for Simon. As soon as he shut the door, I started down the hill. Or my cell number. As he poked around in the back of the van, I began plotting escape routes out of Prescott. He had his head stuck into the storage area under the long seat that pulled out into a bed.
I groaned. I almost complained that we were having the worst luck ever, but the memory of the dead man flashed into my mind, the image more sobering than a gunshot wound. Someone had experienced much, much worse luck that day…. Thanks for reading! Unearthing Words. Indiana Jones better watch his back. Nice going, Lindsay! Wow… I might just have to give this series a try.
After all, I am from New Mexico and love to go splunking or anything that has to do with actually getting outdoors for that matter. Keep writing. I think you have another winner in the Rust and Relic series. Totally enjoyed reading Torrent! Just finished reading the whole thing and I loved it! Also I would love to see more of the Spartan, Alektryon seems like he would have a very interesting background. And can this have some shared views with various characters or would that be kind of redundant seeing as they tended to stick together for the biggest portion of the book?
Still can not wait until the next book! I snatched this up as soon as it was out for my ereader. Indiana Jones and EE like mystery and hijinks. What more can I ask for? Thanks, Mark! Just finished it. Great entertainment. Non-stop action, adventure into the unknown with a good dose of humor. I loved it!
Please continue the series it would make my day. It hooked me in immediatly and want more! I loved this book!! No pressure though. Look for it by the end of the summer. Really enjoyed this. Fast paced; imaginative, a brilliant concept linking ancient history, aliens and modern archaeology.
Looking forward to the next instalment. Only problem is it was so readable I should have been asleep 3 hours ago but had to finish it! Looking forward to the next one. After finishing the 3 Rust and Relics books I came the to website to see if there are more. Sadly it appears there are no more. Mifune Productions . Release date. Running time. Retrieved 28 October Agency for Cultural Affairs.
Kinema Junpo. Galbraith IV, Stuart The Japanese Filmography: through ISBN Films directed by Hiroshi Inagaki. Namespaces Article Talk. Views Read Edit View history. Help Learn to edit Community portal Recent changes Upload file. Download as PDF Printable version. Hiroshi Inagaki.
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