I stare at my hands, a million feelings rushing through my head. Shana completely changed my life. But she’s like a wild animal. There’s no controlling her, no telling what she’ll do next. I got myself into this mess. But wild animals are still dangerous.
“I’m so fucked up,” Shana says. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tears leak down her cheeks. Her shoulders start to shake. “I ruin everything I touch.”
“Shana, no.” The anger inside me melts. I pull her into a hug, and she sobs on my shoulder. “You just need to make some changes. We both do.”
Shana pulls away. Her eyes are rimmed in red. “You think I could ever get clean?” she asks.
“Maybe.” As soon as the word is out of my mouth, I realize I don’t believe it. Shana might try to get clean, but she never will. She craves the insanity. She thinks it’s an adventure.
Her lower lip trembles and her eyes look small without all her usual makeup. She seems so fragile right now. It’s hard to believe how dangerous she really is. Sam was right—if I were really serious about getting better, I wouldn’t hang out with her anymore. But she’s my friend.
I wipe a tear away from her cheek with my thumb. “I could help you,” I say. “If you want.”
Footsteps pounds against the platform behind us, and I flinch, suddenly alert.
Sam races over to us. His face is flushed red—excited.
“I think I found a way out,” he says.
TWENTY-TWO
“THIS WAY,” SAM SAYS.
I push myself to my feet, wincing at the dull pain in my knee. Shana moves her hand to my elbow. It’s a small, automatic gesture—just enough to lessen the pressure on my knee as I find my balance.
“Thanks,” I say. Shana shrugs.
“Don’t mention it,” she says. But she leaves her hand on my arm as I stretch and bend my leg, making sure my knee is strong enough to walk on. Sam watches, and a frown line appears between his eyebrows.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“It’s just the old war injury acting up.” I take a few steps away from Shana, and my knee doesn’t even wobble. I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s fine. You said there was a way out?”
The frown lines disappear from Sam’s face. He takes my hand. “Come on,” he says, and he leads us to the edge of the platform, right next to the moldy tile wall. Water laps at the concrete and spills over. I take two quick steps back. Gravel pinches the bottoms of my bare toes, and I try not to wince. Shana hovers behind me, afraid to approach the water at all.
“You have to come closer.” Sam motions to the wall on the other side of the train tracks. “Look.”
Shana shuffles forward, and we both move to the edge of the platform. The flooded train tracks stretch away from the station and disappear down another dark tunnel. I squint into the shadows. I see gray bricks, black water.
And a ladder.
I gasp, and throw a hand over my mouth. The ladder stretches from the black pool to the tunnel ceiling, where a metal manhole cover winks down at us. Light oozes in around the edges. Daylight.
“Shit,” Shana says. “Not exactly easy to get to, is it?”
She’s right. The ladder juts off a wall deep in the tunnel. Our platform ends only a few feet from where we’re standing, and a narrow ledge stretches down the wall into the tunnel beyond it. The ledge is maybe a foot wide, and chunks of concrete crumble off it and into the water. To get to the ladder, we’d have to creep along that ledge for about a hundred feet. And then we’d have to swim to the other wall.
“I can’t.” I look from the ledge to the still black water below. Ripples wrinkle the surface. Sam takes my hand.
“It’s the only way out,” he says.
“We don’t know that. What if the cover’s stuck again?”
Sam squeezes my fingers, and horror rises in my chest. Right. If the cover’s stuck, that’s it. Game over.
We all die.
Shana takes my hand, weaving her fingers through mine.
“Remember taking the wheelchairs down Henderson Hill?” she asks. I bite my lip, remembering Shana’s blue-tipped hair and creaky wheelchair. The way she glanced back at me and winked before launching herself down the cliff.
“You were so brave,” I say.
“Bullshit.” Shana squeezes my hand. “I was a freaking wreck. I thought I was going to die.”
“No.” I frown, remembering. Shana gives me a sad smile.
“I was just trying to impress you. Maybe shock you a little bit. I didn’t know you’d come down after me,” she says. “You were fearless.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were,” Shana insists. “You got this look in your eye before you rolled down that hill. I remember thinking you could do anything.”
I dig my teeth into my lower lip, staring down into the water. I think of how my heart dropped when I tipped my wheelchair over the side of that hill, and the dizzy, soaring feeling I got when I started to pick up speed. I felt invincible. Like I could fly.
“You can be brave now,” Shana says.
I nod, and step onto the narrow ledge. My legs shake so badly I can hardly move them, but I inch my feet forward, staring down at the water for signs of life. I imagine tentacles bursting up from the depths, wrapping around my body. I can almost feel the cold slap of water as I’m dragged below the surface.
But the pool stays still. I hold my breath, edging farther into the dark.
Sam steps onto the ledge next, and then Shana. The concrete shifts under my toes. I grab Sam’s arm, digging my nails into his skin. He holds me, tight.
“Okay?” he asks.
I nod, and take another step.
The platform crumbles beneath my feet. My hand slips from Sam’s arm, and my bad knee buckles. Pain slices up my leg and all my nerve endings flare. I howl and drop to a crouch. My knee slams into the concrete. I hear a dull, sickening crack and picture bones splitting, tendons snapping.
Nausea washes over me, and black spots blossom in front of my eyes. I grope for something to steady myself, but my fingers slip off the damp concrete. I tip backward, and my stomach drops as I start to fall.
“Casey!” Sam lunges for me, but he’s not quick enough. I spill over the side of the platform and hit the surface of the murky water.
It rushes over me, dragging my body to the bottom of the tunnel. I smack against the train tracks, and my eyes fly open. I peer through the pool, but all I see is black. There’s movement next to me. I flinch and grope in the darkness.
I move my feet over the tunnel floor and try to kick back to the surface. My leg roars with agony. I grit my teeth and kick my good leg, but the other drags me down.
I blink, and the darkness separates into murky shadows. The tunnel wall comes into focus. It’s close enough to touch. I dig my fingers into the crevices between the grimy bricks, and hope rises in my chest. I can climb out of here. I run a hand along the wall and pull myself to my knees. I reach above my head to grab for the wall again, but my hand lands on something else.
Something muscular, with scales like a snake.
I recoil, and panic rises in my chest. The tentacle slithers over the wall, nothing more than a blurry shape in the darkness. I spot another one a few feet away, twitching closer, and another spread across the ground just inches from my knee.
The water shifts. Something glides past me. I jerk away as another tentacle unfurls next to my face, its curved claws grazing the skin on my cheek.
I can’t breathe. My vision blurs. Shana was right—the tunnels are infested. The monster is everywhere. Its tentacles cover the walls and the ground like weeds. I claw at the water, pressing my lips together to keep from inhaling.
Something slides against my back.
I scream and water floods my lungs. Something large glides toward me, cutting through the water with e
ase. It’s too dark to make out more than hazy shapes and shadows, but I think I see thick, glistening teeth and something long and slimy. A tongue.
I squeeze my eyes shut and, for some reason, I think of Rachel, my old roommate at Mountainside. I remember her bloodshot, vacant eyes and the dried vomit clinging to her chin. I used to think that was the worst way to die.
Now I know better.
I open my eyes again and kick, making one last attempt to swim to the surface. But the pool churns around me, holding me down.
Something grabs me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides.
I try to scream, but the water swallows my voice.
TWENTY-THREE
THE CREATURE MOVES CLOSER. MUSCLE CONSTRICTS around me, squeezing the air from my chest. Bright lights blossom in front of my eyes, warning me that I’m about to lose consciousness. I struggle, but the thing only squeezes me tighter. The water around me shifts as the creature stretches its jaws. I brace myself to feel teeth ripping into my skin . . .
Suddenly I’m yanked to the side of the tunnel and dragged, gasping, to the surface of the water. Sam’s face is the first thing I see. Beads of water cling to his hair and lips, and his skin looks pale. I realize he jumped in after me.
Something slithers past us. The water ripples. I curl my fingers around Sam’s sopping wet shirt.
“We have to get out.” I gasp, my throat still raw from choking. Pain roars through my leg and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with nausea and exhaustion. My eyelids flicker.
“Casey!” Sam yells. He holds me against his chest with one arm and pulls us toward the wall with the other. He collapses against the ledge, gasping for breath.
“Help her,” he moans. Shana plunges her arms into the water and wraps her fingers around my slippery wrists. I dig my toes into the side of the wall and start to climb.
Something curls around my ankle. I grit my teeth and kick the side of the wall, ignoring the pain that shoots up my shin. It recoils and releases me, and I scramble back onto the ledge.
My injured leg flops beside me, useless. I’m afraid to move it, worried it will send another wave of pain through my body. Sam clings to the side of the ledge, still half submerged in the water. His eyelids flicker closed, and his jaw clenches.
“Sam!” I grab Sam’s arms, and his eyes shoot back open. I pull, trying to drag him up onto the platform with me, but he’s too heavy. “Get out of the water! Hurry!”
“I’m coming,” he says, but he moves too slowly. I glance from his face to the water behind him. The surface is still, but I think I see something dark twisting below.
“Hurry,” I murmur, my eyes following the shadows. Sam lifts his body out of the water, groaning as he shifts all his weight to his arms. His T-shirt clings to the muscles in his biceps. He pulls one knee up and props it against the ledge, his other leg still dangling in the pool.
Something flickers in the corner of my eye. I flinch and look around, but there’s nothing there. My chest tightens.
“Sam,” I hiss, grabbing for his shoulder. Shana takes his other arm and starts to pull.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he mutters, easing the rest of his body onto the ledge. He pulls his other leg out of the water. I breathe a sigh of relief and collapse back against the wall. Thank God.
“I saw it,” I say in a strange, strained voice. Now the surface is still, but I remember the feel of tentacles sliding over my back. “The monster. It’s down there.”
Waiting for us, I think.
“I know,” Sam says. His jaw tightens. “I saw it, too.”
Shana swears beneath her breath. “But you got out,” she says. “You’re both okay.”
Sam meets my eye. “We were lucky,” he says.
I press my lips together and nod. I’m more worried about my leg. I tear the ripped fabric of my jeans and press my fingers into the skin around my knee, finding the edges of my kneecap. It’s swollen and tender, and a purple bruise blossoms over my skin. I slip a hand under my calf and gently reposition it so my leg stretches out beside me instead of dangling into the water. I inhale, then carefully push myself up onto my good knee, trying to pull the other leg beneath my body.
A sharp knife of pain slices through my knee and up my thigh. Tears spring to my eyes.
“Shit.” I lean back against the wall. I try to focus on breathing, but the pain overwhelms me. I dig my fingers into the concrete and try not to scream.
“Casey?” Sam crouches beside me. “Casey, look at me.”
I ease my eyes back open and find Sam’s face. Pain throbs below my knee like a second heart. Sam studies my leg beneath my clinging, drenched jeans. He lightly touches his thumb along the muscles and bones.
“Does this hurt?” He finds the edges between my kneecap and shin and presses down. White-hot, blinding pain tears through my leg. It feels like someone wedged a fork under my kneecap and popped it off. I scream and yank away from Sam. I almost fall into the water again, but Shana grabs my arm, steadying me.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Shana hisses at Sam.
“I had to see if she could put weight on it,” Sam says.
“It’s pretty obvious that she can’t put weight on it!” Shana’s voice sounds annoyed, but her eyes are wide with fear. She shakes her head and mutters, “Jesus.”
“I don’t think I can stand,” I explain once the pain has subsided a little. “I can barely move.”
I look down the tunnel. The ladder is still about fifty feet down and all the way on the other wall. The tunnel’s only a yard or two across and not even that deep, but it might as well be the size of a football field. I won’t make it two feet with my leg like this.
The water swells and a line ripples down the length of the tunnel. Fear climbs my throat. I scoot away from the side of the ledge and press my back against the wall. The ripple vanishes.
“You can’t stay down here,” Sam says.
I watch the water for movement, but the surface stays still. The thought of staying down here for even one more second is enough to make me want to curl up into a ball and cry. But it’s the only way.
“You two need to go and get help,” I say. “You can come back for me.”
“I’ll carry you,” Sam says.
“I’ll just slow you down!”
“We aren’t leaving you here with that thing,” Sam shouts.
I open my mouth and then close it. I’m too tired to argue with them. For a moment none of us speaks. Water drips from the ceiling.
“It’s settled, then,” Sam says. He pushes himself to his feet and groans, leaning against the wall for support. His breathing sounds ragged.
“You’re hurt,” I say. Sam shakes his head.
“Pulled a muscle,” he says, straightening. “It’s nothing.”
“Let me see.” I grab the corner of his T-shirt and pull him toward me before he can protest. Something dark and warm stains the back.
“It’s blood,” I say, my voice trembling. I touch Sam’s back and he flinches.
“It’s just a scratch,” he says, pulling away. “I’ll be okay.”
“That didn’t look like a scratch!” I repeat.
“It’s fine. We’ll deal with it when we’re out of here, okay?” Sam grabs my hands and squeezes. He tries to look reassuring, but I can see the pain tugging at the corners of his eyes and pinching his mouth. He’s right, though. We can’t do anything about it in here.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”
Shana stares out over the water. “You two should go first.”
Sam crouches next to me and slides his arms around my waist. I clench my hands at the base of his neck. He stands, pulling me up to one foot. He cringes.
“Sam?” I loosen my grip around his neck and stumble backward, automatically setting my injured leg down to steady myse
lf. Another wave of pain washes over me.
Sam grits his teeth through his own pain. His arms tighten around me. “Casey, stay with me, okay?”
I nod. I need to be strong. I can do this. I wrap my arms around Sam’s neck, and he lowers both of us into the pool.
I shiver as the water creeps up my legs and weighs down my jeans. The instant the cold hits me, a chill I can’t shake spreads through my body. That thing is down here with us. I imagine tentacles coiling around our bodies and long, curved claws darting at our skin.
Sam pushes off from the wall. I wind my arms around his shoulders, clinging to his back. We glide over the surface of the pool, and I remember him telling me that his dad had a house up by the lake, and that he used to swim there every summer.
I think of that story as I watch his arms slice through the water, propelling us forward. We make it across the tunnel in just three quick strokes. He reaches for the ladder, and I hear clanking metal as he wraps his fingers around the rungs. I tighten my arms around his neck. Sam pulls us out of the pool. Water drips from my clothes and my hair, and I shiver where the cool tunnel air hits me. We did it. We’re across.
Something splashes behind me, and I flinch before realizing Shana must’ve leapt into the water, too. I blink and try to find her in the pool. I see Shana’s head duck below the water, and she disappears into the blackness.
I pinch the inside of my palms to keep from passing out. I refuse to be dead weight, even if Sam is carrying me.
“Shana,” I call as we climb farther up the ladder. But she’s still below the water, and she doesn’t answer. I tighten my grip around Sam’s neck. He grunts, and I feel a twinge of guilt, realizing how hard this must be for him. The blood on his back feels warm against my chest.
“Does it hurt?” I ask. Sam’s quiet for a moment. His hands slap against metal as he pulls us up another rung.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says.
He climbs higher and higher. The manhole cover is directly above us. If I let go of Sam’s neck and stretched my arm above me, I could graze it with the tips of my fingers.
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