Restless Soul by Alex Archer

lantern inside one of the coffins by the far wall. Luartaro’s face was heavily shadowed, making the angles and planes of it more pronounced and striking.
    Did she love him? The question seemed to materialize in her thoughts as mysteriously as the voice did.
    His unblinking gaze caught hers.
    “The water is—”
    “I know,” Annja said. “Rising fast. This might as well be a monsoon.”
    She let out a deep breath and hurried to the wall and started climbing. There were pitons in her pack; she’d discovered that while she investigated the contents during the ride in the Jeep. She didn’t need them, however, as she was able to wedge her fingers and the toes of her boots into crevices; natural handholds were abundant.
    The muscles in her arms strained as she pulled herself higher. Below her, the water made sounds like the gentle, sonorous noise of a wave meeting a beach.
    Zakkarat still chattered, though now she could make out a few English words in the mix. Hurry. Drown. My fault. The words were mixed with an interesting mishmash of Thai and English profanity.
    Annja certainly understood his frustration. She wasn’t overly afraid, but she was disappointed. She would have liked to examine the coffins and the carvings she’d noted on one wall. She could have spent hours ruminating over what the people might have been like. She’d intended to take plenty of pictures. And then there was the echoing voice begging for her help….
    Within the passing of a few heartbeats she was at the mouth of the dark corridor, grabbing her flashlight and shining it in.
    “This tunnel looks to go on for a while,” she called down to Luartaro and Zakkarat. “And it’s wide enough that they could have easily brought the coffins in through it and lowered them into the chamber. There’s a painting on the wall, too, like the one in Tham Lod Cave. The ancient people came this way.”
    She turned and peered over the edge. Luartaro grabbed the lantern and waited patiently behind Zakkarat, who had started to climb but nearly slid back down.
    Annja cringed when she saw Zakkarat step onto the edge of one of the coffins for a boost.
    She’d been so distracted by her thoughts and the water—and the odd, cold sensation that had plagued her off and on—that she hadn’t been thinking clearly.
    She should have taken one of the coils of rope from the men. She could be lowering it down at this very moment and helping Zakkarat. He was in good shape, but his large pack made him clumsy and off balance.
    She should have come out here alone and not put anyone else in jeopardy. “Wake up, Annja,” she muttered.
    She knelt and extended her hand as far as she could reach. “Grab it!” she called out.
    A few moments later Zakkarat did just that, and she tugged him up to the narrow shelf.
    She took some rope from him and started to drop it over the side.
    “I don’t need it,” Luartaro said. Pack over one shoulder, coil of rope over the other and lantern in one hand, he managed roughly the same hand-and footholds that Annja had used. He expended more energy than her, however, as the rings of sweat under his arms were deep by the time he reached her.
    “Annja, I watched you in my country and thought you were athletic then. Beautifully so. But here…seeing you climb this stone…you are very impressive.”
    She shrugged. “I like watching you, too. I like the outdoors. And I work out a bit.” She smiled and stared down into the chamber.
    The water had covered nearly the entire floor and shimmered darkly under the light from the lantern. Annja took a few pictures of the coffins from her high vantage point, knowing they would turn out dark but wanting to preserve the memory of this place.
    “After you, Annja.” Luartaro gestured at the opening. He smiled. “Ladies first, as they say.”
    Ladies first just so I’ll get going, Annja thought. “How thoughtful, Lu. Thanks,” she said. Not that she minded; she preferred leading the way.
    She stuffed