by James Hunt
“Where is your mother?” Terry repeated the question with another gentle shake.
Liz stammered, frightened by her father’s urgency. “T-they went for a horse ride.”
Terry looked past her, sprinting off, and Liz turned with him, taking a few steps to follow, a sense of dread weighing her down like lead boots.
“What happened?” Liz called after her father, but he didn’t stop to turn around. He just kept running.
32
The ride out into the desert was warm, and while Amy hadn’t shared either of her daughters’ affinity for horses, there was something peaceful about riding the beast across the desert sand.
It brought forth something inside of her, an experience that she shared with travelers from centuries past. The molding of beast and man, a bond shared, each of them with a purpose, striving toward a destination on the horizon, neither yielding until they arrived.
But the reprieve from the distraction of her life and the troubles that had plagued her was waiting for Amy upon their return to the stables.
Terry and a pair of security guards were standing there, and Terry made a beeline for Maisie on the horse, helping her down. “Sweetie, are you okay?”
Maisie smiled. “Hi, Dad!”
Unsure of what happened, Amy quickly slid off the horse and hurried toward her husband, who kept a tight hold on the girls. “What’s wrong?”
Terry answered with an angry glare and then lowered his voice. “You had an episode?”
Amy frowned. “What? How would—”
The tour guide from the mine stepped from behind one of the guards, immediately averting his eyes when he saw Amy. And after a quick glance to her husband, Amy nodded in understanding, all of the pieces fitting together perfectly.
Amy shook her head. “You’re a bastard.”
“Amy, wait!”
Fists clenched tight and flushed with heat as he moved quickly through the middle of the street, Amy was losing the fight to calm herself.
Terry cut her off, hands up and defenseless. “Amy, please-”
“What did you tell these people?” she asked.
Terry opened his mouth, the look of a man who wanted to spare his wife the hurtful truth, but the facade dropped with his hands, and he exhaled. “I told the staff that if they saw anything odd that they should tell me.”
“Three months, Terry.” Amy held up her hand, extending three fingers. “Three! No episodes. No problems. Nothing.” She flapped her arms at her sides, exasperated. “I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that I’m not crazy.”
“Amy, let’s just talk about this inside,” Terry said, noticing the gathering crowd.
“Why?” She raised her arms. “My family thinks I’m crazy. The staff thinks I’m crazy. Why not let every fucking guest know I’m crazy!” She gestured to the crowd, then whirled on Terry. “I can’t believe you.”
Terry arched his eyebrows. “Oh, you can’t believe me, Amy?” He moved within a few inches of her, lowering his voice. “Well, let me tell you why I told the staff to keep an eye on you.”
Amy shrank backwards. “Stop it.”
“Three months ago, you decided to get loaded on vodka and then piled our daughters into your car and went for a drive.”
Amy placed her hands on the sides of her head, trying to cover her ears. “Stop.”
“And you nearly killed them when you flipped your SUV going eighty down a mountain road!” He pointed back toward the building. “Liz spent the whole fucking summer with a cast around her arm after it broke in three separate places.” His lower lip quivered and his eyes watered. “Maisie was in the car, Amy. What if-” He lowered his head then spun around, covering his mouth, keeping his back to his wife. “I mean Jesus Christ. What do you want me to do? Huh? What do you want me to say?”
Broken, Amy tilted her head down and whispered to herself. “I know what could have happened.”
“Then why did you do it, Amy?” Terry spun back around and walked over, the anger running out of him, replaced with confusion and grief.
“I’m sorry, Terry,” Amy answered.
Terry covered his mouth, his shoulders sagging as he walked off the road and headed back toward the stables. He collected Maisie and then walked toward the hotel.
Once they left, the crowd dispersed, the entertainment gone, leaving Amy alone in the middle of the road. But her eyes found the mine’s entrance on the other end of the street. It was still dark. Still ominous. But whatever happened to her in that place today wasn’t an episode. She wasn’t crazy, and she was tired of trying to convince people otherwise.
The touring hours for the mine had ended, but the only barrier to the mine was a single rope that ran the width of the entrance, which Amy easily stepped over.
It didn’t take long for the darkness to swallow up the light, and Amy fished out her phone to help guide her deeper into the mine.
Amy rubbed her arms, fighting the goosebumps breaking out on her flesh. She aimed the light in sporadic directions, waiting until—
Amy.
The whisper tickled cold air on the back of her neck, and she quickly spun around. But the light only revealed rock and the winding path back to the mine’s surface.
Amy.
“Hello?” Amy asked, spinning around once more, this time facing the mine’s depths. “Who’s there?” She walked awkwardly over the tracks, trying to be mindful of her movements as she headed deeper into the mine. “Hey!”
The walls echoed her voice all around, and Amy was forced to a stop when she reached a mound of rocks and reinforced steel.
“Shit.” Amy lowered her light and searched for a way through. She found none.
Amy lingered in the darkness, waiting for the voice to return, but when it didn’t, she turned to leave. Her light passed over a small door wedged into the wall, barely visible, causing her to stop.
The door was painted in the same texture as the wall, so it would blend in. She approached cautiously and wedged her fingers in the crack, and it opened.
Amy flashed the light inside, finding a separate mine shaft, one that went deeper into the earth by means of an elevator.
The area was cramped, barely enough room for two people. The elevator controls were still shiny with new chrome, and Amy saw the key wedged in the starter. She turned it on, and the cage opened.
Amy looked back down at the small door she’d entered through and briefly considered leaving.
Aaaaaamyyyy.
The voice came from below. Amy stepped into the cage.
The cage rattled on its descent and Amy shuddered with every noise. She kept to the middle of the cage and shined her flashlight around the walls carved out of the rock and dirt.
A jolt ended the journey, and the door opened. Hesitant, Amy shone the light into the darkened depths, finding another narrower shaft that extended into the earth. She considered heading back up, knowing that she wasn’t supposed to be down here, but she’d already come this far, so she stepped out.
Amy shivered, and it grew worse the farther she walked. Cold water dripped from the ceiling. A few droplets landed on her phone’s screen and she wiped them off with the hem of her shirt.
Aaaamyyyy.
A cold breeze accompanied the whisper, and Amy quickly flashed her light toward the voice, wind whipping in her face, blowing at her hair. “Who’s there?”
Amy stepped forward, her heel slipping on a slick patch of rock, but she caught her balance. She hastened her pace, keeping one hand on the damp wall to make sure she stayed upright.
The deeper she traveled, the more madness curled its fingers around her consciousness along with the haze of doubt and uncertainty. She suddenly stopped, staggering toward the wall, and hunched forward, hyperventilating.
Amy shut her eyes, shaking her head. “It’s not real,” she whispered between quick breaths. “It’s not real.” She dropped her phone, fell to her knees, and clutched her chest, which tightened.
Wh
at was she doing? She was chasing whispers in a cave. This wasn’t the behavior of a woman with her head on straight. It was an illusion, and she was feeding the madness with her imagination. She was—
Blood for gold.
Amy lifted her head, but she saw only darkness. She scrunched her face in confusion. “What?”
Blood. For. Gold. That is the price.
The voice was throaty and raw, and a lump took shape in the darkness. It rose from the ground but remained hunched. It lumbered forward, moving closer and closer, and bringing with it a searing heat that Amy was forced to turn away from lest her skin melt from her bones.
Blood. For. Gold.
The throaty whispers were accompanied with the stench of rotten meat, and the voice was so close that it tickled Amy’s ear.
Amy back-pedaled toward the elevator, but she stumbled over her feet and hit the ground. Fear and cold stole her strength and she crawled toward the elevator. The air grew thin, and hard to breathe. She flattened to her stomach and then rolled to her back, hands on her neck, choking.
Eyes bulging from her skull, Amy’s vision blurred, but in the darkness, she saw a silhouette hover above. She extended a hand for help. But the figure only tilted its head to the side, studying Amy, and then suddenly snatched her wrist, and Amy’s body lit up with pain.
“AHHHH!” Amy bucked and writhed on the ground, like a fish out of water. She screamed until her throat turned raw.
But the figure leaned closer, and Amy saw that it wasn’t a person, at least not anymore. A mangled and rotten face stared down at her, a sense of wonder in its withered eyes as it spoke without opening its mouth.
You see me.
The figure smiled and exposed a single gold tooth, then laughed and let her go.
Freed, Amy bolted up from the ground, moving so quickly that she forgot her phone, and sprinted toward the elevator. The uneven ground tripped her twice before she arrived back at the cage.
With pains in both knees and her hands wet and burning with cuts and scrapes, she slammed the door shut and hit the button that triggered her ascent.
Free from hell and in the safety of the cage, Amy sat in the corner and tucked herself into a tiny ball. She rocked back and forth, knees pressed against her chest, and she trembled.
It was the man. The man from her dreams that she’d had every night since the accident. It was real. He was real.
A muffled yelp escaped Amy’s lips when the caged elevator came to a stop, and she hurried out of the cage and through the small door to the mine’s main shaft.
Amy sprinted toward the light and then collapsed into the sandy street, coughing and hacking, unable to catch her breath.
Spit dribbled from her lips, and she collapsed on her side, unable to move or think. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there baking under the sun, but she recognized the voice screaming her name.
“Amy!” Terry skidded to his knees next to Amy and flipped her on her back. “Christ, what happened? Where did you go? What-”
With what strength remaining to her, Amy clasped her hand over Terry’s, freezing him with her cold stare. “He’s real.”
Terry frowned. “Who’s real?”
“The man from my dreams,” Amy answered, growing more hysterical. “The man who whispered!”
Terry’s face slackened. He shook his head. “Amy—”
“I’m not crazy, Terry. I’m not!” Amy grabbed her husband’s arm, yanking him toward the mine. “I’ll prove it to you. I can show you!”
“Amy, stop!” Terry used his size and strength to keep her still and then pulled her close. “You haven’t taken your meds. That’s all. You didn’t hear—”
Amy yanked herself free. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the meds!”
Terry placed his hands on his hips and lowered his head. “What do you want me to do here, Amy?”
Amy fidgeted, knowing how she looked, how she sounded. It was insane. But she wasn’t. She was sure of it now. “Call the police.” She nodded. “Call them. Tell them to come down. Tell them that there is a man down there, and they need to arrest him.” She calmed and cleared her throat. “You do that, and if I’m wrong, I’ll check myself into the nearest psych ward.” She nodded. “They can load me up with pills. Do whatever they want.”
Terry remained stoic and motionless for a moment, but then nodded. “Fine.”
And while her husband’s tone didn’t sound like a man who was convinced, Amy only needed this chance. This one thing had to go right. Because she had bet her sanity on it. And if she was wrong, then she really was crazy.
33
The ambulance arrived, all flashing lights and sirens, attracting more unwanted attention that Amy desperately wanted to avoid. Terry had called for it when he called the police.
The paramedics checked her blood pressure and other vitals and provided her oxygen to clear her lungs, then forced her to follow a finger back and forth across her field of vision.
The paramedic that examined her lowered his hand. “Your vitals are fine, but we should probably take you to the hospital for observation.”
“No,” Amy said, answering quickly.
Terry stepped forward. “Maybe—”
“I said no.” Amy straightened herself out. “Not until the police get here.”
The ambulance had been the first on the scene, but it didn’t take long for the blue lights to arrive, cutting through the crowds that had come to gawk.
Amy bounced her knee, trying to rid herself of the nervous energy through quick body twitches. She had pulled out the big guns, putting her credibility on the line by asking her husband to trust her again. If she really had imagined everything down there, if she was wrong, it’d be three years before she’d have a chance at earning that trust back again.
When the police arrived, one of Ghost Town’s managers came over to act as a representative for the attraction. The police officer’s presence, the flashing blue lights, and the pistols at their sides added a dose of reality that she hadn’t expected.
“What did you find, ma’am?” The officer removed a small notepad while his partner shined a light in her face, causing Amy to raise her hand to dim the brightness.
“A man,” Amy answered, then gestured to the mine. “All the way to the end of the mine, and through a door with an elevator that takes you down into another mine shaft.”
The hotel manager crossed his arms. “That area of the attraction is off-limits to guests.”
Amy ignored the manager and read the name on the officer’s uniform. “Officer Martinez, I heard a voice inside when I was on a tour earlier today—"
“What kind of voice?” Officer Martinez asked.
Amy cleared her throat. “A man’s voice.”
“What did he say?”
“He said… He said that he wanted blood for gold.”
The hotel manager chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Officer Martinez eyed the manager. “Does this have anything to do with those two security guards going missing?”
Terry frowned. “People went missing?”
“No,” the hotel manager answered, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “And that’s a private matter that the security company we use is handling internally.”
Officer Martinez put the notepad away. “I’ll need to go down and search the area.” He turned to Amy. “We’ll follow you.”
Amy led them into the mine and toward the back where she snuck into the small door in the wall, which was still cracked open from her escape.
“That’s supposed to be locked at all times.” The manager stepped forward and then cast an accusing glare toward Amy. “Where did you steal the key?”
“I didn’t steal a key,” Amy answered. “It was open.” She turned toward the officers. “There’s an elevator on the other side. I can take you down-”
“Oh no.” The manager wagged his finger. “I’m not giving you any more chances to try and build a
lawsuit against this place. I’ll escort the officers down, and when we don’t find anything, I’ll be pressing charges, starting with trespassing.”
Terry remained by Amy’s side while Officer Martinez ducked through the small door and stepped inside with the manager, leaving them alone with his partner in the darkened tunnel, who propped himself up against the wall, crossing his arms as he kept an eye on the pair of them.
Amy fidgeted, twisting her hands, and the officer’s flashlight caught the shimmer of her wedding diamond. The flash was brief but brilliant. It was the beginning of seventeen years of marriage. She had been so nervous that morning. Not that she was scared, or regretted her decision, but because she hoped she could live up to the expectations of being a wife and, eventually, a mother. It was silly, but it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She loved Terry so much that when she saw him standing at the end of the aisle, she felt as though she could have floated to him. But the moment she saw him, all of those worries melted away.
Amy glanced his way, and he kept his head down. Time could steal a great many things.
When the noise of the elevator started back up again, Amy reached for Terry’s hand. The motion was quick and instinctive, but she was thankful for the reciprocating squeeze.
Officer Martinez stepped out first, casting a quick glance at Amy before turning toward his partner. “Call Dispatch and let them know we’ve got some remains.”
The officer returned arched his eyebrows in surprise but headed toward the exit, while Martinez fished his notepad and pen out of his pocket.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning, Mrs. Holloway.”
Amy went through what she remembered, detailing it as much as possible while leaving out some of the supernatural elements. Terry kept quiet but was unable to hide his shock.
After giving her statement, Officer Martinez looked through his notes one last time and then folded up the pad. “Thank you, Mrs. Holloway. We’ll be in touch if we have any follow up questions. Oh, and before I forget,” he reached into his pocket, handing over her phone.
