A sick plan

With that a resounding slap could be heard in the cave.

Mr Nigel and the others tried to picture what the cause might have been, for a certainty, that came from the direction in which those two youths kept arguing.

Raph had his face turned to the left because of the slap, Chantel's hand still suspended in the air as she looked at her hand like it was a strange appendage, even though she couldn't believe she had done that.

"I am so sorry, I–"

"No, it's fine." Raph's mood darkened, he finally understood what she thought of him as nothing but a pervert, seeking to get some sort of pleasure at every chance he got.

He finally knew where he stood and with this, he was going to draw a line, he wouldn't be a bother to her anymore.

"Raphael I am deeply sorry, I don't know what came over me." She tried to apologize and reason the best possible way she could but that fell on deaf ears.

"I said that's enough!" He growled, taking a few steps away from her, the self distancing had just begun.

She kept silent after that, she couldn't afford to provoke him any further in her state, she needed the assistance of him to survive through this.

Just when he thought he had started to make a friend, all that had crumbled even before he realized it, he was the pestering one, he got that.

"Before I get sick and bored of the love–hate relationship going on over wherever those two are..." Mr Nigel wiped down his face, "I would like to propose a way to escape this, but first we need to take a census on how many we are now, just call a number, let's start with those on the left, then the right."

Starting with himself, he counted. "One."

Following cue, the second person to the left spoke up, a man in his thirties, "two!"

"Th.. three!" The woman in a bob cut who had cried earlier stammered.

Raphael watched with earnest curiosity as they called out their numbers, then it finally reached his turn. "Seven." He called out, looking over at Chantel to speak up.

Timidly, she called out, "Eight!" A sharp pain shot through her, her hands instinctively clutched on her stomach, the wounds sustained were starting to throb.

It burned him on the inside as he watched Chantel struggle, but couldn't help in some way. Then it clicked, she must have something of value to help her with her current injury.

Opening up her backpack, he dug his hand deep, searching for anything related to at least a plaster, several times he brought out maps, gloves, brushes, but then he finally found it– a roll of plaster and in the hole, there was stuffed cotton wool in it.

Searching again, he found methylated spirit, a smirk played on his lips at the odds of this being in a regular archeologist backpack.

"You really did plan this ahead." He finally lightened his mood, amazed at the things she had inside such a backpack, now he couldn't quite blame it on the durability of the bag but rather the user, there was no argument as to how and why one of the straps had ripped out.

Handing over the cotton wool soaked in spirit, he waited for her to clean it up herself, he couldn't afford to receive another slap unjustly. Tearing a bit of the plaster, he handed her the bit.

"I can't afford another misinterpretation of my actions." He whispered, looking away as she raised up her tank top to apply the spirit. Hissing, she endured the pain. Taking the dry cotton wool, she covered up the wound with the help of the plaster.

"So we are down to ten people. That means we lost half of our team." Mr Nigel called out.

"Was this part of your sick plan, Mr Nigel?!" Raph spat in disdain at his lack of respect for those who had died.

"If you weren't considered exceptional in whichever company you were recruited from, I would have thought you to be stupid, for saying such nonsense." He thundered back.

Raph balled his fingers in a fist, he was starting to feel the contract they had all signed was nothing more than a death wish.

"I would ask again, Mr Nigel, what artifact are we searching for? Or better still, what kind of artifact would make you so adamant to seek even at the cost of lifes?" He growled.

A rumbling shook the whole cave, something was emerging from above them. It was a tablet written on it was a ancient runic wordings.

Their attention was faced above now, but they had to guard their eyes from the debris and dust coming down on them.

Coughing, they all blew with their hands. The strange writing on the stone tablet which was suspended in the air horizontally so everyone could clearly see it just by looking above.

How were they supposed to answer those who were curious about their expendition?

"Sir?" A man adjusted his hat as he continued, "How do we explain the strange floating stone tablet?" He pointed above.