CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
From somewhere, a slim shaft of light gleamed, casting a diffused glow on the ruins. The racks of gold and silver, the sacks of coins had vanished, buried under tons of earth. Beneath a broken beam, a rattler slithered through the rubble.
Face down in the dirt, Maria was more dead than alive. At last, she moved her arms, and her fingers closed around the Medallion. Even in her stunned state she seemed to know what it was and pulled it to her.
Ever so slowly, she moved her legs and in stages lifted her head. Her voice was a whisper. "Flynn?"
There was no sound.
"Flynn?"
The silence of the tomb was her answer. She dug her fingers into the wall of dirt and rocks
And, in agony, pulled herself to her feet. She screamed. "Flynn! Flynn!”
Her energy was drained. Slowly
