“We need to go,” I tell her.
“I can’t move,” she says, her voice filled with fear.
A quick examination proves that she is not injured, but paralyzed from fear. “We have to…”
“I can’t.”
More dust falls around us and I know we haven’t much time. Doing the only thing I can think of, I raise my hand and slap her across the face, creating a sound that travels through the caverns, and she stares at me with wide eyes. “Get up!” I yell at her. “This whole place will collapse -around us, so get up and get to that hole!”
Shocked back into reality, the woman scrambles to her feet and edges her way to the only exit, being careful not to trip over any rocks. Grumbling echoes around me as more of the rubble shifts and an ominous feeling settles in my stomach, warning me that there isn’t much time to find Chase. I maneuver through the darkness as silt clings to my face, working its way into the depths of my pores, mixing with the sweat dripping from my hairline to my chin. More dust drops from above, getting into my eyes and I look down, rubbing them and blinking in an effort to clear them, thankful for the tears that form, washing them clean. When I can focus again, I look around, but only see the faint shapes of rock, dirt, and splintered support beams.
“Chase!” I call; my voice fades in the distance, and I wonder if he hears me.
Whispering catches my attention. I turn toward it, my feet fumbling over a raised mound of dirt that gives way under my, causing my leg to sink into it until it is halfway up my calf and I almost topple over. Steadying myself, I pull my leg free, ignoring the tickling sensation of the soil running down my pants, creating the sound of trickling water as it falls. The whispering grows louder. I squint in the darkness, trying to make sense of the shapes before me when I realize that I have stumbled upon two more workers. A clang sounds behind me, and I whirl around, straining to see what caused the noise, but find nothing. I do not know how much longer this shaft will hold before the rest of it caves in. Turning back to the humanoid shapes before me, I inch my way closer, and they come into view, their clothes and skin covered in silt, making them blend in with the dark surroundings. A girl, not much younger than me, bends over a boy who appears to be her age, shaking him and whispering for him to get up, but he never moves. The feeling that something is not right ebbs its way into my mind and I kneel beside the boy, while the girl ignores me, and place my thumb on his neck, where his pulse should be. Nothing. The girl shakes him again and his head rolls to the side so that his vacant eyes stare into mine, confirming my suspicion. I have seen eyes like his before enough times to know when I am staring at a dead body. My eyes move to the girl who still tries in vain to get him to stand up, unwilling to believe that he is dead and a lump forms in my throat as my heart aches for her, a feeling I have not experienced often, and am unsure of how to react to it. Placing my hands on her shoulder, I try to coax her to move, but she shoves me away.
“He’s gone,” I say to her in a gentle voice.
“No!” she screams, and I fear that her shrill voice will bring what is left of the mine down on top of us.
I seize her shoulders and shake her with such force that, for a moment, I fear that I have snapped her neck. “He’s gone! You can’t help him! You need to help the ones you can and not worry about the ones you can’t.”
Her saucer-sized eyes stare into mine, still unwilling to leave her friend, but knowing that she has to, and she gets up.
“Go that way”—I point in the direction of the only way out—“and hurry!”
She stumbles off in a daze and all I can do is hope that she makes it out. I turn back around and face the depths of the mine, my mind racing about where Chase is, afraid that he is lying underneath the weight of the cave in, losing his ability to breathe as he is crushed to death.
“Chase!” I yell. “CHASE!”
My pulse quickens and threatens to cause a vein to burst as I search for him in a frantic state, every gloomy scenario filling my mind as I delve deeper into the mine.
“Noni!”
I stop. “Chase?”
“Over here!”
I shove my way through fallen timbers and rocks, pushing rubble out of my way as I hurry to him. My hearth thuds in my ears, pounding out the dead silence of the shaft as I force my way to him, and the more his dark shapes grows, the faster I move, desperate to get to him. A rock lays on his leg, pinning him, and I fear that it might be broken. Once I reach him, I drop to ground, cringing just a little as a shard stone jabs my knee, but the pain dissipates in a moment as seeing Chase alive invigorates me.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, the worry evident in my voice.
“No, just stuck. I can’t move the rock.”
I scramble to my feet and move to the boulder, studying it, hoping that when I move it, that it won’t cause more rubble to crash down upon us, but in the end, decide that it is worth the risk as I cough once more on the hovering pollution. “When I lift this, you’ll need to move your leg. Can you do that?”
He nods.
Summoning all my strength, I brace my feet against the ground in a firm stance and tighten my abdominal muscles as I lift the flat stone as high as I can, until Chase can swing his leg free. He does and rolls to his side, away from the rock and I let go, dropping it to the ground, and my arms thank me for the reprieve. Relieved that he is alive and unharmed, minus a few bruises, I wrap my arms around him in the biggest embrace I can manage, and he envelops me in his strong arms as well, pleased that I did not abandon him.
“I think, now, I am the one who owes you,” he whispers.
I smile at his words, until a thought enters my mind. “Are there others?”
“The woman with the blue eyes…”
“Grelyn?”
Chase looks at me and answers, “If that is her name.”
“Where?”
“Down there,” he points. “She was scouting for more ore and a possible new shaft when everything crashed around us.”
“The way out is that way.” I point in the direction of the opening I had come through and turn to head deeper into the mine.
Chase snatches my arm. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t just leave her.” I can’t explain it, nor do I know why, but the need to rescue her, or at least try, takes hold of me, refusing to let go, despite our mutual hatred of each other.
“You can’t go down there.”
“I have to. I can’t just leave her there to die. I’m going.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“You need to go.” The thought of him following me down there and dying tears at my heart, and how would I explain to Gwen that I am responsible for his death, that I failed to get him to safety when I had a chance? “I thought…” I swallow back a lump.
“I’m not leaving you down here alone,” Chase says, the resolution in his voice evident, and I know that there is no forcing him to leave. “We’ll do this together.”
I concede, and he points in the direction of where Grelyn was last seen, allowing him to lead the way as he steps over a turned over cart with one of its wheels still on the metal track that stretches deep within the mine, buried beneath rock and metal. Particles of dust drop from above, sprinkling my jacket and catching me in the eyes when I look up, forcing me to turn away in an effort to clean the grit out of them. As I blink them clear a frozen face with an arm that appears to jut out of its mouth stares back at me, causing me to jump just a little, but I regain my composure, not wanting to show fear. The terror within the person’s eyes burn into my own, imprinting itself on my brain, and I know that I will not forget this moment anytime soon. Imagining what this person must have felt when he realized that he was going to die, the same terror, the same fear courses through me, making me think of my own mortality—something I have never done before—as I trek after Chase, hoping that we reach Grelyn soon.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to break the eerie silence.
“We were diggi
ng, like we’re supposed to when everything collapsed around us.”
“And Grelyn?”
“She was scouting up ahead, searching for high density ore deposits and where a good place to dig next might be.” Chase turns toward me. “What’s she to you?”
I have no answer. I do not like her. I cannot stand her. We both despise each other, but a part of me cannot just leave her here to die, not if she is still alive. “I…” My voice trails off, echoing in the darkness, growing faint as it bounces from wall to wall in the tunnel, disappearing the same way those who are still trapped in this mine have, reminding me of my selfishness for only wanting to save the ones I knew, forsaking the others to die a miserable death as they are crushed under the weight of rock and stone. “I hate her,” I whisper.
Chase stares at me, at least, I think he is staring at me, since the lack of light makes it difficult to see any defining feature other than his faint outline.
“I can’t explain it,” I say to his unspoken question, but one that I would ask myself if I were in his position. “She and I… we never got along at the training facility. She always taunted me, teased me, and proved that she is better than me. She is stronger and faster. I despise every part of her, but she is also an arbiter and I can’t just leave her down here now that I know she might be trapped.”
Chases says nothing. He points further ahead. “This way. The mine shaft forked over here and that is where I last saw her.”
Another low rumble reverberates around us, causing my chest to vibrate and an ominous feeling rises within me as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end, like they did the night the wall was attacked, the night I earned my medal, the night I proved to be no different than anyone else within Arel. I stop and seize Chase’s arm as foreboding rises within me and the broken support beams and rock walls shake with a rapid secession of thunder, causing my ears to beg for relief. Before either of us can react, strong arms shove both of us out of the way just as more of the tunnel ceiling collapses, filling the small space we had been in, leaving the thinnest of trails that even the tiniest of people would struggle to maneuver through. I crash onto the ground; my knee smacks into a protruding rock, slicing it and leaving a bruise, and I roll onto my back, grimacing as I force myself to ignore the pain, almost jumping when I see who has saved us: Trevors. He leers over us in is muscular glory, tall and proud as his eyes frown at us while his lips form a straight line.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, though the answer is obvious.
Grelyn is trapped in the mine, and despite how much I loathe him, and how much he detests me and relishes in exuding his authority to the point of abuse, there is one thing the he cares most about in this world, and she is trapped under a mound of black earth.
Trevors stalks off, refusing to answer me. “Lead the way, plebeian.”
The manner in which he utters the word incenses me and I jump to my feet, but Chase stops me from attacking Trevors, and in that moment, I am reminded that I once referred to him in the same callous manner. Chase struggles to get to his feet, but Trevors’ impatience forces him to seize Chase by the shirt and push him onward. “Now!”
I realize now that he must have entered the mine with one goal, to save Grelyn, and overheard Chase and me talking about her last known location, which explains why he saved Chase, but why did he save me? Just four weeks ago he tried to kill me. He could have just let me die in the mine and no one would have asked questions, but assumed that my own stupidity caused my demise. I seize his hand when he tries to push Chase again and my firm grip forces Trevors to look at me.
“Yelling at him is not going to help us find her any faster.”
Trevors yanks his wrist from me with a scowl that could scare off a pack of ravenous wolves, but I remain firm in my stance with a similar glower on my face.
“This way,” says Chase, breaking us up.
More dust drops from above as a few rocks tumble downward, rattling as they go and sending a series of clacks that echo around us with a mocking clap. We come upon a wall of rock, mishmashed together in a haphazard fashion, forming a tangled mess of wood, metal, and stone with black soil filling in the cracks, creating an impenetrable barrier, except at the bottom where a small hole remains, blocked by metal bars. We rush to it and investigate it further, and for a moment, Trevors forgets himself, losing his rigid composure as he screams Grelyn’s name.
“Grelyn!”
A soft mumble escapes the tiny opening, telling us that she is alive.
Trevors races for the opening, but I stop him. “If you try to go through there, you’ll cause the entire thing to fall down on top of you. You’re too big, but I’m not,” I say when he rounds on me, forcing him to pause and reconsider his actions, and he concedes, taking a step back. “I need you two to hold these bars up so that I can fit through there.”
Trevors pushes Chase over to the bars and they bend low, each taking a set, and lift them up as much as they can to allow me to pass through the opening, but not so much that it causes more rubble to tumble downward. I get on my hands and knees and crawl through the black hole, going further into what could very well be my tomb, ignoring the claustrophobia that rises within me as sweat oozes down my neck and arms from the exertion of wriggling my way through a tight space. Something sharp tears at my jacket as I move forward, creating an eerie ripping sound, which causes my mind to envision every terrible thing that can go wrong at this very moment. My pulse quickens, and I inhale until my lungs can hold no more air before releasing it in a long, slow breath, quieting my nerves as I feel my way through the short tunnel that the cave in has created. Dirt eases its way down the neck of my jacket, giving me a gritty massage as it worms its way down my back and cutting me in places as some of the knife-like particles mix in with the grainy soil. Suffocating air envelops me, strapping me in its own binding straightjacket as I move, allowing me no relief, even when I reach the end of the tunnel and enter into a chamber that resembles the room with the walls that move inward like those from the trial of fears, instead of a mineshaft.
“Grelyn!” I shout.
“Over here.”
A shape squirms in the distance, resembling a being from a story that Faya told my bunkmates and me once while we were still recruits. I never learned where she had heard or before, but suspected that she had discovered a banned book in the training facility’s library—they sometimes were snuck in there despite regulations—and stole it. I shake off the memory. This is not the time for such things. As I crawl up to Grelyn, who clutches her side and tries her best not to look as though she is in pain, but the torment is written on her face, and she scoffs at my efforts, able to see me with ease, as though the place is well-lit due to her ability to see in the dark. Her bright, crystal blue eyes, that are as natural to her as a fish on dry land, glare at me, watching my every move, emanating a faint glow that unnerves me and reminds me of how a cat’s eyes glow in the dark. As another bout of rumbling and creaking sets in, warning us of the inevitability of being crushed to death if we do not hurry, I push aside my hatred for Grelyn and kneel by her side. She slaps my hands away when I try to look at the gash that her hand covers in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the bleeding. Angered by her actions, I scoot away from her and sit cross-legged.
“Alright. Fine,” I say to her, my voice stern. “Get up yourself.”
We have a staring contest for a few moments as she ponders whether I am just posturing.
I move to the small opening I had come through. “You’re weak,” I tell her. “If an arbiter cannot drag himself to safety, but must rely on others for help, then that arbiter should just put a bullet in his head because he is unfit to wear the uniform,” I say, repeating Molers’ words, words he had spoken on several occasions when he believed that recruits had been too lax in their discipline.
“You won’t leave me here.”
Tell that to Trix. I think back to the attack on the wall and how she had been slumped over on her knees
near the edge and threatened to hurt Sheila, and how I kicked her over that edge to the wild dogs below. Not once have I thought about that incident, not until now, and I feel no guilt over it. I inch my way back to Grelyn and place my face right in front of hers so that she can smell my sweaty breath.
“Try me,” I whisper. “You will not be the first that I’ve killed. Nor the last.”
Grelyn tries to get up, but flops back down onto the hard ground, and I notice that her right ankle refuses to support her weight. It isn’t swollen, so I doubt that it is broken, but it might be sprained, and with that gash in her side, she would be hard pressed to go anywhere. “Are you going to help me?” she spits.
I grab one of her arms and punch her in the face, causing sticky, red blood to dribble from her nose. She wipes it with the back of her dirt encrusted hand, scowling at me.
“That’s for being a bitch.”
Before she can say or do anything, I grab one of her arms and drape it around my shoulder, lifting her up, all 170 pounds of rigid muscle, and drag her to the small opening. It will be tight, but she should fit, not that she has much choice. When we reach it, I urge her to go first, since we cannot get through there any other way. She goes without argument and crawls inside, struggling to move as she uses one arm to support herself and the other to hold her wound. As she hobbles in the same manner as a three-legged dog, I snatch her hurt ankle and squeeze, putting as much pressure on it as I can, as her strangled yelp hits my ears, sounding louder than it is because of the closeness of the space.
“Don’t even think about kicking me in the face,” I warn her.
She yanks her ankle from my grasp and continues onward, inching her way through the tiny opening with me right behind her, doing my best not to let the feeling of claustrophobia settle in as more rumbling echoes around us. The realization that this entire shaft could finish caving in at any moment settles in. Grelyn senses it too and picks up her pace, more concerned with escaping this dismal cavern instead of tormenting me, which I’m sure she plans to do later. Sweat and grime cover my hands, making them slip when I place them on the rocks. Digging them into the ground to coat them in dirt, and give them a bit of traction, I push myself forward with my legs as soil falls around me, blanketing me and mingling with the ever constant stream of perspiration that circles my neck and back. We reach the end. Grelyn and I both spill out of the opening and roll across the arid ground, gasping for any sort of air that is not polluted by the putrid stench of sweat and anger.
Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 19