The Coin of Faith

-- Chapter 1 --

“It’s okay, honestly. It’s for the best. Lara, you must save the coin! It’s vital! Whatever happens now, I forgive you. Really.”

Those were the last words I heard from a very dear friend of mine, Deborah Vickerly. We have been searching for the Coin of Faith, an old myth, or so we thought, for many a year. We first heard of it at Secondary school, in fact, when our History teacher had told us that:
“The tribe believed that many things held secrets, such as the five ornamental vases that had been passed down from their ancestors, and the Coin of Faith. There is no evidence, however, to prove this coin exists, but many archaeologists refuse to believe otherwise…”
And no wonder, because we found it, Deborah and I, in the ruins in South America, which, strangely enough, aren’t at all protected or looked after. We were just digging a few of the sites at the bottom of the cliffs, and we came across it once some of the bedrock had been removed. I couldn’t be sure of its authenticity. But, I was proven to be correct, by a rather familiar woman. I wasn’t quite sure where I had seen her before; she had long, straight blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. She seemed to remember me well enough though.
“Lara Croft, how fitting. Sorry, but I found the artifact this time.”
“Is that why I’m holding it then, dear?” I asked sarcastically. Deborah couldn’t help but laugh. The woman tried to snatch it but I pulled away from her and drew my guns. She drew hers too. Brilliant.
“Well, this is different. A woman fighting single handed without the help of many employed henchmen.” I backed away from her, still aiming in her direction.
“You fight on your own don’t you Lara?” It concerned me that she knew my name. “Who are you?”
“You didn’t answer my question; do you nor do you not fight alone?” I took a while to think of my answer, but replied:
“Oh I fight alone, but I’m one of few who win.”
With that she scowled and tried to grasp the coin once more. I punched her and ran and Deborah did the same.
She got up and chased after us, a flurry of bullets in our direction. I shot back. She was down to her last two bullets, and she shot Debbie in the stomach.
“Now Lara.” she asked with spite, “Give me the coin, or you give me your friend’s life.” My gaze quickly shifted to Deborah, who was clasping her hands over her wound. I leaned forward to give the woman the coin, and knocked her over. I kneeled next to her.
“Just remember that one of us is out of bullets, and it isn’t me.”
She got to her feet and dropped her guns to the floor.
“Well Lara, you gave me Debbie’s life. Thank you.” Then she fled. How did she know who Deborah was too? I didn’t have time to think about this, Deborah was badly hurt. I crouched over her and tried to remove the bullets. “Did you recognise her?” She asked me quietly.
“Not at all, did you?” She nodded. I stopped for a moment.
“Sandra Edwards, from our history class in secondary school.”
Of course! How could I have not recognised her?
“She was always jealous of you Lara, and she caught on in that lesson about the coin that it really wasn’t myth at all, she saw us discussing it.”
She was right. Sandra had always asked me about the coin, but I had always told her it was mythical, just like the teacher had done. She had obviously realised that this was a lie when she heard Deborah and I discussing it further. If it was a myth, why would we have done? After piecing all of this together, I turned my attention back to Deborah. I had removed both of the bullets, but her wound was too bad for it to be healed by me alone.
“Come on; let me get you to the nearest hospital. We’ll have to hurry.”
As I said that, a black jeep drove past. Two men started shooting at us. Deborah couldn’t move. As I tried to lift her, she was shot again by one of the men. That’s when she pleaded for me to leave her.

A week later, the scene replays itself in my head. Could I have done anything more to try to help Deborah? The men had machine guns, all I had were my standard pistols, and I’d used up most of the bullets on Sandra. I tried to persuade myself that there was nothing more I could have done.

to be continued...