Quint opened his eyes, blinking several times to bring the world into focus. A skull stared at him, its jaws wide in a silent scream. He jerked back, groaning as a bolt of pain shot through his head, and quickly lay flat on the floor again. His right cheekbone stung as he lay there in the dirt. He tried to lift his hand to touch his face only to realize his wrists were tied together behind his back. His ankles were bound, too. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what had happened … footfalls … someone coming up behind him … he’d reached for the machete. That was it. There’d been only one set of footfalls, he was pretty sure. That didn’t mean an accomplice wasn’t hiding outside in the tunnel though. Angélica! Oh, Jesus! He had to find her, warn her. He struggled to free his hands. The rope dug deeper into his skin. “Fuck!” He stared into the skull’s empty eye sockets, swallowing back a wave of panic. He lifted his head off the floor to look around and felt something sticky on the back of his neck.
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