"STOP!" a familiar voice cried.
Chang turned away from Emily.
Emily didn't groan. Blood was flowing from the inside of her mouth. Her cheek stung from the repeated blows, spots danced in front of her eyes. The familiar voice spoke again. "Don't hurt her. I'll talk. Just don't hurt her anymore."
Emily jerked against the chains that held her to the table. "MANIFOLD! SHUT UP!"
"Emily, I can't watch you be beaten to death."
"Such chivalry!" Chang smiled.
"Can it Chang!" Emily snarled.
"Nobody tells me to shut up!" Chang grabbed his gun, sticking it in Emily's face.
"Go ahead. Blow my head off," Emily snapped, too angry to care. "You won't have any leverage over him. And if doesn't talk – Stalin might send you out to a nice vacation spot in Siberia."
"Stalin has nothing to do with this!" Chang growled, putting away his gun.
"Rouge operation?" Jake asked.
"Hardly," Chang replied. "He'll decorate me with the highest honors when I deliver him the scroll that contains the super weapon." Chang paused, glowering at Jake. "And you'll be dead. Miss Jones on the other hand..." Chang bent over Emily with an evil glitter in his eyes. "You can be mine." He bent to kiss her.
Emily belched in his face. "Oh! I hate vodka!" she groaned.
Chang growled. "I have no more patience with you! You will be shot." Chang barked a command.
"Too tired to do your own dirty work?" Jake called.
Chang slammed the door.
"How bad are you hurt?" Jake asked quietly.
"Shut up – my head hurts. I've got an awful hangover!" Emily rolled over and buried her head in her arms.
The brick wall was warm against her shoulders after the cold prison, but a cold chill had settled permanently on Emily's spine. The men lined up. They were from the Chinese army... she couldn't escape. The heat waves made the men seem to dance as they loaded their guns.
"Jake – I was a little rude in the cell," Emily swallowed.
"It could have been bugged," Jake replied. "I should have known better. How's your head?"
"Better. The sun hurts my eyes. Looks nice though..."
Jake smiled. "When they captured me I thought I'd never see another sunrise. I... uh, guess this is it. The end of everything..."
"Some cultures view death as just another path," Emily said.
"I had a cyanide capsule, I would have given it to you. It's quick -"
"You turn green," Emily interrupted, frowning.
"It's better than having your head blown off."
"I'd never have the courage to kill myself," Emily shrugged. "I'd get stuck on how much other people would miss me – and how much I'd like to...." she laughed. "You'll think it's stupid."
"No. C'mon... tell me."
"Well, I really, really, really, wanna deck the guy who fired me."
"I thought it was going to be something about settling down and having a family."
"Look, I like kids, but I'd hate washing their diapers, their clothes, the kids... I'd yell my head off at them, and take my bullwhip to them if they did something wrong. I also hate washing dishes."
"If I was married to you, I'd do whatever you asked."
"Why – cause you didn't want to get on my bad side?"
"That's part of it." Jake looked at Emily, battered, bruised, bloody, but facing death with a spark of survival in her molten chocolate eyes. "You're so pretty."
Emily's head whipped around. Her frame jumped at the sound of guns sounding off death clicks. "You saw my right side!"
"I didn't mean it like that," Jake smiled quietly.
"They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Emily shrugged.
"That's right, Em. But if we were all half blind like you, we'd see the things that really matter," Jake smiled. "You say you're not pretty. But, you sure are smart. I'd rather have a smart spunky girl by my side then some pretty screaming mess."
Emily turned to him, trying not cry. Her shoulders were shaking, her dry throat swallowing, trying to taste something she'd never get to try again, her small broken lips were quivering.
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
Emily fell.
Jake lunged to catch her. A bullet rammed him.
Everything went black.
YOU ARE READING
The Sidenstrasse Tapestry: An Indiana Jones Fan-Fiction
FanfictionIn 1945 archaeologist Indiana Jones was called on one last mission. Now, even in 1960, it haunts him as his youngest daughter, Emily Jones - just as rough and tumble and skilled in handling trouble as her father - scrambles after his legacy to pro...
