Drelica sat in the camp chair sobbing. The sun was going down and the henchmen started putting the campsite back together. She was relieved that her satillite phone and side arm were safely stowed away in the fox hole, otherwise they would know she spoke to Torrid. Torrid, where are you? she thought. She wondered if her amazon would truly be able to save her, or if she would be left alone as she always had been before when she counted on others.

Torrid said she had skills, she could help me, Drelica thought, as she tried to distract herself from the goings on around her. What skills? What did she mean?

Drelica had heard about what happened with Elektra Knossoss and she had seen the news footage. She knew Torrid had fended her off and had actually shot her. But what special skills could help her out here in the desert? What did she really know about Torrid? Not a fucking thing! She frowned.

The masked man approached once more. She hated this fuck head, but she had to play dumb in order to stall for time in case Torrid actually was able to get to her. And if she was, what then? How would she warn her? She furrowed her brow again, then turned to the masked fuck head.

“So are you all gross under that hood? Like the phantom of the Opera or some shit?” she asked, being belligerent.

“What?” the masked man replied, “Dr. Truman, slinging insults is beneath you. And if you would just cooperate, none of this would be necessary.”

“I am cooperating, you asshole! I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! I didn’t take anything out of here except two sets of dinosaur fossils!” she spat.

“Alright, let’s say for one moment I believe you,” Fuck head said, “What then? Do I let you go? If I do, you will have the police all over this acreage looking for us and that will get in the way of our search.”

“Well then, what are you going to do?” she asked, carefully.

“I don’t know. That’s up to you. People have been known to die horribly out here. Accidents, wild animals. You and your assistant will most likely meet your doom by tangling with a wild cat--” he said, smirking. “Perhaps even a puma.”

“What about a tiger?”

“There are no tigers in Texas-” the masked man started, but realized it was not Drelica who had spoken, the voice came from behind him. He turned suddenly to run into Torrid’s fist.

“There’s one here now--fuck head.” Torrid said as she stood over the unconscious body of the masked asshole.

Torrid turned to Drelica and crouched beside her chair, “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” she said.

Drelica nodded, trying to silence a squeal of relief.

Torrid sat the masked man up in his chair and tied him in place so the three henchmen would not notice anything amiss.

“I am going to get your buddy.” Torrid whispered. “Then I have to get us all out of here. You sit tight, and be quiet.”

“Torrid--” Drelica whispered, “How did you--?”

Torrid just winked and in a blink was gone.

Inside Mark’s tent he lay on the floor bleeding. He was unconscious. Fuck. Torrid would have to carry him out of here. She would have to disarm and disable the masked man’s three henchmen to do it. She wanted to just snag Drelica and send help back for the boy, but he was beaten pretty badly.

She turned him over, and he groaned.

He opened his eyes, and started to speak, but he was gagged. Thank God, cause she sure as hell didn’t need him making noise right now.

“Mark, right?” Torrid whispered.

He nodded, weakly.

“Torrid. I am here to get you. You need to keep quiet. Understood?” She asked as she pulled a survival knife from her boot and began cutting his bonds.

He sat up holding his side. “Doc--they got the doc.” He groaned.

“I know. What are they after?” Torrid asked.

“I don’t know--some artifact. They think the Doc took it. “ He strained to talk.

“Alright, Mark--where is it?” She asked bluntly.

Mark’s eyes widened. He shook his head to protest her accusation. Torrid cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. She grabbed his collar and pulled him close suddenly.

“Where’d you put it?” she growled.

Mark moaned in pain, “Ahhhhhhhhh, you’re hurting me!” he strained.

“If you don’t want to hurt a lot more, you’ll fucking tell me where the cross of Coronado is, you little fuck!” Torrid hissed.

Mark’s eyes widened. She knew! How the fuck did she know?

“That’s right, piss ant. I know ...” Torrid released him and he fell back to the floor of the tent. “This--” she motioned all around them, “Is my land. Don’t you know how to read a fucking map? Private property. The cross of Coronado is mine.”

Torrid suddenly poked Mark really hard in the chest, shoulder and neck. He flinched but didn’t utter a sound.

“You should be able to walk now.” She said, checking to see if the coast is clear. “We are getting out of here, and you are taking me to the cross, or I‘ll nail you to one! Do we understand each other?”

Mark nodded, wiping the dried blood from the corner of his mouth. No amount of money was worth nearly losing his life.

Outside Drelica sat hoping Torrid could get Mark out unnoticed. She saw some movement near the tent where he was being kept, and panicked. The three armed men were heading that way. She knew she had to distract them somehow.

She waved at them, “Hey! There’s something wrong with him! Help!” she shouted, motioning to their masked boss, who was slumped over in the chair next to them. The turned and came toward her.

Behind the men she saw Mark and Torrid scurrying off over the gully’s edge. But now she had to explain how their boss was unconscious and tied up. Crap.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked the first Thug, who they called Tom.

“I dunno he sat down and slumped over.” Drelica said, innocently.

“Hey! He’s tied up!” The second henchman, Daryl, said, then trained his weapon on Drelica and clicked it chambering a round. “Don’t move, bitch!”

Tom untied the masked man and tried to revive him, but he was out cold.

“What the hell? Go check on the kid--NOW!” Daryl ordered.

The third man, Jake, ran off to the tent where Mark had been deposited after his work over, and opened the tent flap with the muzzle of his rifle. Empty.
He turned to warn his comrades only to find a tall woman with dark hair and dazzling ice blue eyes standing there holding a map.

“Hey, I am lost, can you help me?” She smirked.

Jake fumbled to train his weapon on her, but before he could raise it, Torrid closed the distance and landed a front kick to the center of his chest. The impact shoved him backward into the tent where he crashed into the cot and rolled over tangling himself in the wreckage of bedding and gear. He struggled to stand up before she again closed the distance, but he was too late. Torrid hit him hard with an outside neck strike, and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Torrid collected his weapon and emptied it of ammunition, and removed the firing pin.

“Loser,” she spat.

She tossed the useless weapon back on top of his unconscious form and crept back out of the tent.

Meanwhile, Daryl grew impatient, he ordered Tom to get cold water to revive their boss.

“And check on Jake! He should be back by now! Find out what the fuck is going on!” He barked.

Drelica prayed that Torrid could get Mark out. She assumed that was what Torrid was doing, and that her covering their escape allowed them to get well clear of the camp. Now Drelica had to continue to stall the others.

Just then, the masked man began to moan and roll his head from side to side as he slowly crept back to consciousness. Daryl dropped to one knee and patted his wounded boss, but he made the mistake of taking his eyes off of Drelica for an instant.

She stood up and grabbed the muzzle of his rifle pushing it up and back into him causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards landing on his ass. Before he could sit himself up and train his weapon again, he felt the crash of a camp chair against his skull. Drelica stood there over his limp body, searching him for a side arm, which she found and quickly chambered a round.

Turning quickly she pressed the sidearm up to the masked man’s neck. “Move and you’re dead.”

“Drelica--”, he groaned, “Don’t be stupid. You have no idea who you are dealing with.”

“Shut up, moron!” Drelica growled. “I know exactly who I am dealing with!” She said as she reached over and pulled his hood off. “Hello, David.” she smirked.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” David threatened.

“David, I don’t know if you noticed this or not, but I don’t like you very much. You’re just...creepy. What are you some kind of serial killer, or terrorist? What is it you are looking for?” She asked, as she stood over him one foot resting on his chest, her gun pointed at his head.

“The cross of Coronado! It’s going to be mine!” He said, rebelliously.

“You’re kidding! That’s just a myth. You really are a moron!” She mocked.

“You’re a stupid bitch!” He spat. He sat up suddenly and grabbed her gun hand, she struggled against him, but he wrestled the gun away from her and put it to her temple.

“Don’t you fucking move!” he shouted enraged. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her as he limped over to her stalled out jeep. Drelica struggled against the shooting pain in her head and her ankle. He pushed her hard against the door of the Jeep, causing her to bend over at the waist and land in a seated position next to her front tire.

“Stay there, or I’ll shoot out your fucking knee caps!” He threatened, “Then you’ll have more than a broken ankle to worry about. You should stick to digging up animal bones, Drelica. Relics are too grown up a game for you, little girl.”

Drelica sat silently, breathing heavily; tears streamed down her face, but they were not tears of dispair. They were tears of anger. Torrid, I hope you got away safely, she thought to herself. She found the thought of Torrid’s escape the one source of comfort for her plight. She sank back against the Jeep’s tire and watched as David Temple tried to find his missing men. Daryl lay sprawled out on the ground where Drelica had laid him out with the camp chair, While Jake hadn’t been seen since he’d been dispatched to check on Mark. Where was Jake? Drelica puzzled as she faded from exhaustion.

Mark huddled inside the foxhole where Drelica had stashed her firearm and satilite phone and water. He opened a bottle of water and drank deep. He went to take another sip when the bottle was jerked out of his hand by a dirty, angry Torrid.

She stared him down, then drank her share of the water.

“This shit is all your fault.” she said, “So you’re gonna help me fix it.”

Mark hung his head in shame. “I never meant for the doc to get hurt. I wanted to sell the cross to fund the dig.”

Torrid narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”

“No! Not bullshit! This dig is as important to me as it is to Drelica!” Mark defended. “If we find Deinosuchus here, it opens a whole new world of exploration in our field--but I guess you don’t get that.” He said, waving his hand at Torrid in a dismissing manner.

“Well, you’re right. I don’t know shit about proctology.” Torrid smirked, “But I am in the business of kicking ass and taking names; and right now, you’re at the top of my fucking list.

I don’t give a shit how noble your intentions were, boy--you endangered lives. Doesn’t that register in your thick bashed in skull?” Torrid scolded. “Now you fucking stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Torrid--wait.” Mark grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Here--” He offered her Drelica’s firearm.

Torrid dismissed him. “No. I don’t need it.” She said, and was gone.

Drelica awoke to the sound of David Temple screaming orders at Daryl. He had found Tom in the tent injured with a shattered collar bone and broken ribs. He was now useless. Jake was laying at the bottom of the gully with a shattered leg and hip bone, and David was furious. It was just him and Daryl.

“We’re being picked off one by one, sir.” Daryl said.

“No shit, Daryl!” David barked, “What are you gonna do about it?”

David Temple was furious. It had been the perfect plan, to get into the region and use the funding of the dinosaur dig to seed his black market industry. He would smuggle relics into the country from Mexico and Central America, up through the hill country and sell them to the highest bidder. But now his plans were being foiled by a dyke and her fucked up tattooed freak girlfriend.

David looked at Drelica. It was time to take the gloves off. He walked over to her and grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her up from her seated position.
“Wakey-wakey, Dre!” he taunted. “We need some bait to catch your freak!”

“Drop dead you asshole!” Drelica said, struggling to pull away from David’s grip.

Suddenly she was on the ground again, reeling from the stinging pain in her jaw from the smack Daryl gave her; blood filling her mouth. This time it was Daryl who reached down and pulled her up by the hair. He twisted her arm behind her back and pressed hard against it causing her to scream in pain.

“Now that I have your attention, Missy--you will do as you are told, or I’ll bust your fucking arm out of it’s socket!”

Drelica had no choice. She allowed herself to be walked over to a rock where they had rigged some sort of restraint system to hold her and use her as bait to capture Torrid.

Torrid--I hope to God you left. She thought sadly to herself; tears streaking her face.

Torrid’s fist tightened until her nails dug into her palms and ran red with her own blood. She stayed still, hidden in the brush watching as David Temple and his henchman abused Drelica. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she was afraid. She was not afraid of violence, nor of confronting them. She did not fear being injured or wounded, or even killed. She did not fear pain, or any of the things associated with survival situations. What was she afraid of? She thought about it. Drelica. If anything happened to her, if she were to be hurt or--worse--Torrid couldn’t bear it. Strange as it was to find this realization now at this time, in this place, she knew. She loved this girl.

“Fuck--” she muttered to herself, “I gotta think!”