by Amy Cross
I'm not the kind of girl who gets killed by some loser truck-driving asshole.
I'm better than that.
Suddenly I see that the trees on the road's left-hand-side have been cut away, and a moment later I spot what looks like some kind of parking lot. I slow for a moment, worried in case I might see the truck again, but instead I can just about make out a dark building up ahead.
I limp to the side of the road and into the bushes, and then I pick my way between the last few trees until I find myself staring out at what looks like an abandoned diner at the far end of the empty lot.
I wait a moment, in case there's any sign of the truck, but then I spot a payphone over by the diner's far wall. 911 calls are free, I'm sure of it, and the cops can probably be out here in five or ten minutes. After all, if I'm just a couple of miles from the highway, I can't be that far out in the sticks.
I look around, to make sure there's no sign of the truck, and then I start limping across the parking lot. Tears are in my eyes and I can feel a sense of panic growing in my chest, but I tell myself that I have to stay strong for at least a few more minutes. Still, the parking lot feels impossibly huge as I limp slowly toward the phone, and I don't like being out in the open like this. Glancing around, I still can't help looking for any hint of the truck, but I think maybe the goddamn loser is long gone. I have to act fast, though, so I limp as hard as my injured ankle will allow until finally I reach the phone. There are scratches all around the coin-slot, reflecting the flashing reds and yellows of the distant highway.
“Help me!” I gasp as I grab the handset and frantically dial 911.
As I wait for the call to connect, I glance over my shoulder and watch for any sign that he's caught up with me. All I see so far is the dark tree-line, picked out against the lights of the road, but there's no sign of him. Still, I know he won't be far behind. He chased me this far. He's not going to just give up now.
“Hello?” I stammer, turning back to the phone. There should be a tone, somebody should have picked up by now, but so far I'm not hearing anything.
I hit the switch on the cradle several times, trying to force a connection. “Hello, is anyone there? I need help!”
I thought it was free to call 911, but finally I reach into my pockets and start searching for coins. It takes a moment, but I manage to dredge up a dime from the very bottom of my back pocket, and I drop it into the coin-slot before dialing 911 yet again.
Nothing.
“Come on,” I whimper, with tears streaming down my face.
I hit the cradle again and the coin drops out. I slot it back in at the top and try dialing, but I'm starting to think that maybe this phone is out of order. Sure enough, I wait a few seconds but there's still no dial tone, so I press the switch on the cradle and the coin drops out again. Before making another try, I close my eyes for a moment and try to get my head together. I need a miracle.
“Please work,” I whisper. “Please God, I'll do anything, but please help me.”
I wait a few seconds longer, and then with a trembling hand I drop the coin into the slot for a third time.
Nothing.
This phone is dead.
Suddenly I hear the sound of an approaching vehicle. Even before I turn, I know I'll see the lights of his truck heading this way along the gravel road that runs up from the forest. Sure enough, the huge, hulking truck is already at the edge of the parking lot, and for a fraction of a second I see his silhouette in the cab. He's come for me.
He won't get me, though.
No way.
I am not going to die tonight.
Part Three
Underworld
Sixteen
Ramsey Kopperud
The first thing I notice, when I open my eyes, is that everything seems very still and calm, and quiet. And dark. In fact, for a few brief seconds, I almost feel as if I'm absolutely nowhere. This must be what it's like to feel completely free.
Unfortunately, the second thing I notice is a sharp pain in my right wrist, followed by another, sharper pain as soon as I try to move my fingers. I try to move them again, but this only results in a few choice curse words as I quickly find that my wrist is completely out of action.
I don't know where I am.
And then the third thing I notice, and this is maybe more of a problem than the first two things put together, is that I'm on my side, on rocky ground, and a whole load of soil and stones seems to have fallen on top of me.
I blink a couple of times, trying to work out exactly how I got here. It actually takes a few seconds before I remember that I was with Leanne, and we were running across a field in the middle of the night, and some asshole in a truck was chasing us. I remember she fell and I helped her up, but then she fell again and when I turned to go back for her...
The ground gave way.
The ground beneath my feet literally collapsed and I fell. I tried to grab a tree-root, but I tumbled down into the darkness and then...
And then I woke up here.
I guess I was knocked out. I've definitely been unconscious for a while, although I'm not exactly sure how long. It's pitch-black down here, with no light at all coming from any direction. My wrist is hurting more and more with each passing second, and I think I must have landed really awkwardly. I can finally move my fingers, at least, and even form a fist, but the pain is unbelievable and I think some of the bones must at least be fractured.
Reaching up, I touch my left hand to the side of my head, and I immediately feel a rush of pain. I must be bruised good.
Finally, despite the pain, I start to sit up. Loose soil and little stones fall off my jacket, and I'm relieved to find that at least I'm not buried alive. I feel thin, twisty roots dangling down against my face, but I still can't see anything at all. I look around, hoping that I might spot something as my eyes adjust to the darkness, but it's almost as if I've fallen down into some kind of empty void. I listen for a moment, hoping to hear Leanne calling out and telling me that everything's okay, or to hear rescuers digging down to me, but all I hear is silence.
Still, I must be somewhere. After all, there's a muddy floor beneath me, and a rocky wall behind my back.
“Hello?” I whisper, not daring to raise my voice too much in case I inadvertently attract the wrong kind of attention. “Leanne? Are you there?”
Silence.
“Leanne!” I hiss. “Where are you?”
I wait, before figuring that she must have run on to get help. That's the only thing that makes sense. She couldn't help me, so she set off back to town. Wincing as I feel a faint pain in my leg, I nevertheless force myself up into a crouching position, and then I slowly and very unsteadily get to my feet. More and more clumps of soil fall from my jacket, but finally I'm standing and I look straight up.
For a few seconds, I feel a little dizzy in the darkness. Finally, however, my eyes start focusing on something.
It takes a moment longer, but I think I can just about make out the starry sky high, high above, framed by the edges of the sinkhole that opened beneath me. I reach up with a trembling hand, and sure enough I can see the silhouette of my fingers against the stars. The hole is way too far up, though, and all I feel are a few dangling tree roots. Hoping that maybe I can climb, I hold my hands out to the sides, but now I don't feel walls. I stumble forward, through piles of soil that cover the ground of wherever I've fallen into, and finally I bump against what feels like a curved section of tunnel.
That's where I am.
I fell down a sinkhole and ended up back in the tunnel system. I knew this network of passages was huge, and that it spread for miles beneath Devil's Lookout and the surrounding countryside, but I never realized it extended all the way to Dodderidge Farm. That means there must be miles and miles of tunnels that aren't even marked on the app. When the info page said there was a significant section of the tunnels that had never been officially explored, it really wasn't kidding.
My phone.
I ne
ed my phone.
I check my pockets and then I crouch down, using my left hand to fumble through the piles of soil. I don't quite remember the last moment I had my phone with me, but hopefully it fell down here and I can use it to call for help. I spend several minutes searching frantically in the darkness, but there's no sign of my phone anywhere and finally I lean back against the wall of the tunnel and force myself to accept that things aren't going to be that easy.
The pain in my right hand and wrist is getting worse and worse. I can't even cry out, because that asshole with the truck might be up there, and he might come to fetch me.
“Leanne?” I whisper, although I've given up hope that she's nearby. “You'd better get your ass back here soon. Do you hear me?”
I wait.
Silence.
“Leanne!” I hiss.
No reply.
Maybe I should stay right here, in case Leanne returns with help, but I can't just sit here like a goddamn weakling and hope for other people to save the day. After a moment, I get back to my feet, and then I hesitate for a few seconds, listening to the absolute silence that's only punctuated by the sound of my own shallow, panicked breaths. I figure the tunnel must run in two directions from this spot, but I have absolutely no idea which way I'm supposed to go. Hell, I can barely even be sure I'm standing up straight.
It'd be dumb to go too far, since this is the spot where Leanne will bring help, but I should at least check the area a little, in case there's a blatantly obvious exit nearby. And I'm pretty sure I can easily find my way back to this spot later.
Looking toward the patch of starlight again, I try to figure out a direction. I'm pretty good with stars, but my mind is racing and I can barely think straight. I try to really focus, pushing all the distractions of out my head, and then I take a couple of steps to the left, hoping to spot something in the night sky that might help me. Back in New York, it was so difficult to see the stars at all, but right now they look so clear, and a moment later – as if by some miracle – I actually see part of the Big Dipper. The hole is too small to allow me to make out the North Star, but I can figure out roughly where it must be, and finally I turn and slowly start to work out which way is north.
Deal is to the west of Devil's Lookout, so I turn again until I'm pretty sure I'm facing the right direction.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying to buck myself up. “You can do this. You're not an idiot.”
Reaching my hands out, I take a couple of steps forward, and to my relief I find that the tunnel seems to run almost precisely due west from where I fell. That's a start, at least, but I still can't see anything and I won't be able to rely on the stars again. I stop after a few seconds, still worried that by leaving this spot I might make it harder for help to find me. Plus, the idea of stumbling around in pitch-black tunnels doesn't really appeal, but I quickly tell myself that sitting around like a scared little kid is not an option.
“You can do this,” I say again, even though the panic in my chest is getting stronger. “You can always find your way back again, but you can do this.”
Suddenly I hear a scrambling sound high above me. I freeze for a moment, as the sound continues, and then I look up at the circle of starlight above me. A moment later I see the beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness as it shines down from the hole. The beam flashes over piles of soil and broken roots, as if someone up there is looking for me.
Please be Leanne. Please be Leanne. Or the cops. Please be help.
“Hello?” a male voice calls out suddenly. “Is anyone down there?”
I stay completely still, not quite trusting this person enough to reply. My mind is racing, trying to figure out who he might be. His voice is young, a little older than me perhaps but definitely not old old. And friendly-sounding, too, although that might be a trap.
“Girl?” he continues, as the flashlight's beam continues to dance across the tunnel's floor, picking out gnarled tree roots in shades of silver and white. “Are you down there? I can help you up, but first I need to know you're still alive.”
The flashlight's beam is still sweeping through the darkness, but it hasn't picked me out yet.
I take a cautious step closer, while making sure I don't make much noise. After a moment, however, I realize I can just about hear another sound up above.
An engine running.
Some kind of vehicle, parked a little way from the hole.
“Hey, girl!” the voice continues, and he sounds a little annoyed now. “Are you still there? Just give me a whimper or something, let me know. I can send a rope down and get you out, but you're gonna have to let me know you're there first.”
Maybe he's fine. Maybe he's not the asshole who chased us.
Or maybe he is.
“Great,” he mutters, and suddenly the flashlight is switched off. “Okay, then. I guess you're gone.”
And then I hear footsteps, tramping away from the hole.
“Wait!” I yell, before I can stop myself. I know this is dumb, but the thought of being left down here in the dark is too much to deal with. I stumble forward and look back up at the hole, just in time to see a figure leaning into view, silhouetted against the night sky.
“So you are down there, huh?” the guy replies, and suddenly he switches the flashlight back on.
Almost blinded by the beam, I turn away and cover my eyes.
“I thought you must've broken your neck,” he continues. “Why didn't you answer the first time?” He sighs. “Well, it's gonna be easier to haul you out if you're alive. You look like you can walk, so I'll toss a rope down. Do you think you can climb up?”
“My hand's damaged.”
“But the other one's okay?”
“I think so.”
“Then I'm sure you'll manage.”
“Who are you?” I ask.
He pauses. “I'll go get a rope,” he says finally. “Hang on.”
The flashlight swings away and I'm left in darkness again. Looking up, I see the starry sky above, and I can hear someone stomping about up there. There's a whispering, scrabbling sound next to me, and I quickly realize that a little more soil just fell down from the edge of the hole. A moment later, I hear what sounds like metal banging against metal up there, and then the footsteps start getting closer again until the flashlight reappears. Again, I'm almost blinded and I have to step back, just as one end of a rope drops down next to me.
“Okay,” the guy says, “up you come.”
I turn and look at the rope, but I'm not sure I trust this guy.
“How did you find me?” I call up to him.
No reply. The only sound is the engine, running maybe a few meters from the edge of the hole.
“Are you...”
I hesitate for a moment, worried about the answer to my next question.
“Are you the guy from the truck?” I ask finally. “The guy who...”
My voice trails off.
“Are you coming up or not?” he replies, sounding a little annoyed.
“Where's Leanne?”
“Who?”
“My friend. She was with me. Did she get away and call help?”
“Sure.”
“She did?”
Silence.
“Did she find you and ask you to come and get me out?” I continue.
“Sure she did. Now are you climbing up or not?”
“Well...”
I stare at the rope for a moment, as it dangles right in front me. Climbing up seems so easy, despite my damaged hand, but I'm worried about what would happen to me at the top.
“Can I talk to her?” I ask finally.
“What?”
“Can I talk to Leanne?”
“She's in the truck.”
I feel a faint shiver pass through my spine.
“Can you get her for me?” I ask.
“She's in the truck. Are you coming up or not?”
“I'd like to check that she's okay,” I continue. “Would you mind... Coul
d you get her to come out and talk to me for a moment?”
He sighs. A heavy, labored sigh.
“Please? Just let me talk to her?”
“Why?”
“I just -”
“She's in the truck,” he adds, interrupting me. “I just had to go all the way down and fetch her, and now I'm back up here to help you out. Listen, it's cold, and it's late, and I just want to help you. I don't really understand what you two girls were doing running around out here in the middle of the night, but I don't care too much either. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to scare you, but this is my land. You shouldn't have been up here. I'm just trying to help, but if you're gonna spurn that help, or if you're afraid of me for some reason, then I guess I can't force you. I'm sure you'll be fine either way, I just figured helping you out of that hole'd be the right thing to do.”
He falls silent for a moment.
“Wouldn't it?” he asks.
“Sure,” I whisper, before realizing that I might as well climb up. Even though this guy seems weird, I can fight him off if he turns out to be a creep. I turn and look into the darkness, and after a moment I tell myself that wandering off through the tunnels is a surefire way to end up dead. I have to take the option that gives me the best chance. If the guy turns out to be dangerous, I'll just have to fight him off once I'm up there.
I take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say finally, reaching out to take the rope with my undamaged left hand. “I'm gonna be slow, though. Hold on tight, I'm -”
“You're not a whore, are you?”
I freeze, with my hand still holding the rope. At first I tell myself I must have misheard, but deep down I'm starting to get a really bad feeling about this.
“I asked you a question,” he continues, with the engine still running nearby. “Are you a whore?”
“A whore?” I pause for a moment. “No. What are you talking about? Of course I'm not a whore, what are -”
“Have you been with a man?” he asks. “What I'm trying to get at is, if I bring you up here and take a closer look at you, if I look between your legs, will I find that you're a whore?”
