It Happened In Paradise: Wedded in a Whirlwind / Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex! / His Bride in Paradise. Nicola Marsh
It Happened In Paradise: Wedded in a Whirlwind / Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex! / His Bride in Paradise
she was clinging on to for dear life lurched sideways as the path split open with a great jagged tear.
For a frozen moment in time Manda hung on, staring down into the thick green forest that carpeted the valley wall rippling beneath her like some storm-tossed sea. Then, as she realised she was about to be tipped into that maelstrom, she let go of the tree and flung herself across the gaping path a split second before the tree, its roots and the ground to which they were attached, fell away like a stone.
She was screaming now. Seriously screaming.
She knew she was screaming because, although she could not hear herself—all she could hear was the crack and roar as the earth split and tore about her—she could feel the harsh vibration in her throat.
Lying where she had thrown herself in her mad leap for safety, her arms wrapped around her head, her eyes tightly closed, she shrieked, ‘Enough! No more, God. Stop it! Please!’
Then the ground beneath her gave way and she, too, was sliding into the abyss.
MANDA had no way of knowing what time it was, or how long she had been lying on cold stone. She was just grateful that the earth had stopped shaking.
After a while, though, she lifted her head, gingerly feeling for damage. Her fingers were stiff, sore as she tried to move them and there was a tender spot at the back of her head. A dull throbbing ache. Nothing that she couldn’t, for the moment, live with, she decided. And she seemed lucid enough.
Lucid enough to know that she had lived through an earthquake and be grateful to have survived.
Lucid enough to know that living through the initial catastrophe might not be enough. She had been alone, separated from her party…
She let her head fall back against the stone and lay still for a moment while she gathered her wits, her strength, knowing that she should move, shout, do something to make herself heard, alert searchers to her presence.
In a moment.
She would do all that in a moment.
It was dark. Pitch-dark. There were no stars, no moon, which suggested dense cloud cover. Was that normal after earthquakes? Tropical rain would be the absolute limit, she thought, as she tried to piece together exactly what had happened.
The earth shaking. The path splitting. Her fingers clawing at the earth as she had begun to fall.
She went cold as she relived that moment of terror as she’d been carried down on a torrent of earth and stones. As she realised just what that meant. Why there was no sky.
It wasn’t cloud that was blocking it out. She’d fallen into some cavity. Into one of the temples? Maybe even one that hadn’t been excavated. Or even discovered…
She was beneath the ground. Buried. Entombed. Locked in…
Panic sucked the breath from her. Her cry was wordless and, while every instinct was urging her to fling herself at the walls, claw her way out, she was unable to move.
She knew this feeling. The claustrophobia. The desperation to escape. Her body and mind too numb to do anything about it.
She’d been here before.
She swallowed hard, forced herself to concentrate on breathing…
In. One, two, three…
Told herself that it wasn’t the same.
Hold. One, two, three…
That had been a mental lockdown. She’d been confined by the darkness in her mind.
Out. One, two, three…
This was physical.
She could do something about this, dig herself out with her bare hands if need be, she told herself, even as she strained desperately for the comfort of voices, the clink of stones being turned. A promise that there was someone there. A hand in the darkness.
There was nothing. Only a blanketing silence. Only the rapid beating of her pulse in her ears.
For a moment she lost the rhythm of her breathing, gasping for air as fear began to overwhelm her.
She couldn’t afford to panic. It would be a waste of energy, a waste of time, and if there was one thing she’d learned, it was how to take control of her body, her emotions.
Breathe in to the count of three…
She had to shut down everything but the core need to concentrate.
Hold to the count of three…
After that she could make a careful assessment of her situation. Decide what action to take. If ever there was a time to use everything she’d learned—to block out emotion by fixing on what had to be done, making a plan and carrying it through, this was it. If she once succumbed to mind-numbing, will-sapping terror…
Easier said than done.
Control was easy when you were calling all the shots, when you were the one directing events. But it was a long time since she’d been thrown entirely on her own resources.
In the metaphorical dark.
At least this dark was physical. Not that it was much comfort. She was miles from anywhere and even if any of her party was capable of making it to the nearest village it would take time for help to arrive.
She blotted that out.
She mustn’t think about that.
Breathe, breathe… The air, at least, was fresh. For now.
She tried to swallow but her throat was dry. There was water in her bag. She had to find her bag. Concentrate on what she could do to keep herself alive because it was far too soon for any serious attempt at rescue.
If she was ever going to get out of here, the important thing was to keep calm. Conserve her strength.
She listened for the smallest sound.
The silence was so dense that it was like a suffocating weight against her eardrums, her chest and once again it almost overwhelmed her and she had to force herself to focus on normal, everyday things. Good things.
Ivo and Belle.
Daisy.
The precious new babies…
At least they didn’t know where she was. Wouldn’t be glued to news reports, worrying themselves sick. Ivo wouldn’t be flying here to take charge…
No. On second thoughts that didn’t help. She needed someone out there moving heaven and earth to find her. Lots of earth and stone.
But it wasn’t going to happen.
She’d cut loose, broken the ties, had wanted to prove that she was capable of standing of her own feet.
Great timing, Manda…
Maybe she should see if she could stand up, try exploring her surroundings. Maybe she could find her own way out.
‘See’ being the operative word.
Alone in the dark, it was as if she had suddenly been struck blind and deaf. She lifted a hand but couldn’t see it until it was right in front of her face and even then she wasn’t sure if she could actually see it, or whether her brain was providing a picture of what she knew was there.
She’d never been in such absolute darkness, the kind of darkness that made an overcast night in the depths of Norfolk seem bright as day.
Maybe, she thought, with a rising tide of panic, she really was blind. Or deaf. Or both. Maybe she’d banged her head harder than she’d imagined and lost those precious vital senses. Maybe she’d been unconscious for hours.
In a sudden desperate need to remind herself that this wasn’t