“Thank you,” he said, forcing relief into his voice. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m happy to do it. I’ll call you the minute I know something.”
“Thank you again.”
After hanging up, I trudged about the place for a solid hour and decided the whole trip had been a complete waste of time. My last cup of coffee was wearing thin as I stumbled back to the Taurus. I looked off in the distance and saw Wednesday again, her back to me, staring into the side of a mountain. With any luck, she’d stay there.
After digging the phone out of my pocket, I called Cookie.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Does bad count?”
“Damn. I was really hoping we were on to something.”
“Bear!” I screamed when I saw a real live bear lumbering through the trees.
“Oh, my god! Stop, drop, and roll!”
“What?” I asked, keeping my eyes locked on to it. I’d never seen one outside of a zoo. I suddenly felt sweet and salty. Maybe a little crunchy.
“Just do it!” she shouted.
“Stop, drop, and roll? That’s your solution to a bear attack?” I asked as I unlocked her Taurus and climbed inside.
“No, wait, that’s if you’re on fire, huh?”
Just as I started to close the door before the bear made a U-turn and decided to brunch on my innards, I felt it. A heartbeat, faint. Fear, a little stronger. I quieted and stepped back out of the car.
“Cookie, wait, I feel something.”
“Did he get you?” she asked, almost screaming in panic. We totally needed to get outdoors more.
“No, hon, just wait a sec.” I stepped closer to the trees and scanned the area for Teresa, all the while keeping an eye out for the bear.
“What? Is it her?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I felt a pulse of fear.”
“Yell!” she yelled, scaring the bejesus out of me.
I struggled to keep hold of the phone, then placed it back at my ear. “Cookie, holy cow.”
“Sorry, I got excited. Yell, maybe she can hear you.”
“But won’t the bear hear me, too?”
“Yes, but they can’t understand English.”
“Right. I’ll try that,” I said, stepping back to the car. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”
“Wait, I’m on my way.”
“What?” I asked, completely taken off guard. “You’re on your way here?”
“Yep.”
“In what? The space shuttle?”
“I stole the extra set of keys off your fridge.”
“Did you happen to notice the needle pointing to the really big E?”
“I got gas before I left.”
Score.
“And you ditched Garrett again, remember? He doesn’t have a phone, thanks to you. I just don’t want you to almost get killed alone again. You always almost get killed alone. Though the bear thing will be new.”
“That’s not true. I almost got killed by a bear when I was twelve. Its name was Uncle Bob. There was a wasps’ nest. He panicked. And you were with me the last time when that fake FBI agent chased us down the alley with a gun. We almost got killed then. The two of us. Together.”
“Oh, that’s right. I never understood why he kept shooting that building across the alley from us.”
“He was a bad shot,” I said, keeping an eye on the horizon for an oversized ball of fur. It would be just like me to be mauled to death by a bear.
“Good thing he couldn’t shoot. Then again, neither can you. Have you ever considered taking classes?”
“You know, I have,” I said, checking Cookie’s trunk. “I was thinking pottery or maybe basket weaving. Don’t tell me you don’t have a flashlight.”
“I don’t have a flashlight.”
“A first aid kit?”
“Nope. Just wait for me,” she said. “I’ll be there in no time, and Misery has everything. She’s like a sporting goods store.”
“I don’t want to lose Teresa. She can’t be far. I’ve never felt someone’s emotions over a long distance. Just call me when you get here.”
“Fine. If anyone attacks and tries to kill you, including the bear, ask them to wait for me.”
“You got it.” I closed the phone and the trunk and, well, I yelled. “Teresa!” I called out. Nothing. I walked back up the trail, stopping every so often to call out to her. Admittedly, I didn’t yell as loud as I probably could have. That bear thing freaked me out.
Wednesday was still staring at the side of the mountain, and that seemed to be as good a direction as any. Then I felt it again. A whisper of fear, feathering over me like a trickle of water.
“Teresa!” I screamed, this time with heart. And it hit me. Hard. A blast of fear and hope rolled into one.
I called Cookie again as I ran toward the sensation. “I think it’s her,” I said, breathless with excitement.
“Oh, my god, Charley, is she okay?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t found her yet, but I can feel someone. Call Uncle Bob and Agent Carson and get them out here ay-sap. You were right. The cabin is up that trail. I’m heading to a hilly area just east of it, look around there.”
“Okay, got it. I’ll summon the cavalry, you just find her.”
I closed the phone and called out Teresa’s name again. The blast of fear I felt was quickly evaporating, being replaced entirely by a surge of hope that felt like a cool wind rushing over my skin. Then I remembered I had exactly zero survival gear. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need any.
I ran past Wednesday, and asked, “You couldn’t have mentioned this?”
She didn’t respond, but I saw what she was looking at. A mine. An honest-to-goodness, boarded-up old mine. I had no idea there were any mines in this area. And, naturally, I didn’t have a freaking flashlight. My lack of forethought when I’d left the apartment that morning, knowing I was going to be combing a mountainside, astounded me.
Not wanting to waste any time, I texted Cookie the location of the mine’s entrance before winding my way toward it through the tree line. It was super dark inside, so I opened my phone. It shed just enough light to illuminate the uneven ground as I ducked inside, climbing through the partially boarded opening. For a mine, the opening was small. I thought they’d be bigger. Once inside, ancient support beams lined the walls and the skeletal remnants of a track led me deeper into the narrow tunnel. This was certainly a good place to dispose of a body. Is that what he’d done? Tried to kill her, then, believing she was dead, dumped her body here? Surely not. He was a doctor. He’d have known if she were dead.
I followed the railway tracks about five minutes before they stopped abruptly. The tunnel came to a dead end, a layer of rock and dirt blocking the way, and my heart sank. I turned in a circle, searching for another opening. Nothing. I was wrong. Teresa wasn’t in here. Then I realized the fall was fresh, the earth and rocks hadn’t settled as they would have over time.
“Teresa,” I said, and a layer of dirt fell from overhead. The place was about as stable as a circus performer on a high wire. But I felt her again, closer this time. I climbed up the incline, stumbling and scraping my hands and knees.
At the very top was the faintest opening. I tried to look in, to no avail.
“Teresa, I can feel you,” I said as loudly as I dared. “I’ll get help.”
Her fear resurfaced, and I realized she didn’t want me to leave her alone. “I won’t leave you, hon. Don’t worry.” I tried my phone, but we were too deep to get a signal. Looking back at the opening, I asked, “Where’s your brother, Luther, when we need him? He’s a big guy.”
I heard a weak, breathless chuckle. She was so freaking close, I could almost touch her. Right there. Right past the opening, as though she’d climbed up it as well and tried to dig her way out.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, but received only a moan in response. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
Surely Cookie would bring the caval
ry soon. I wanted to call her, have her get the flashlight out of Misery when she arrived, but I didn’t want to leave Teresa. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to move some of the rocks and try to climb to her. With meticulous care, I started taking rocks off the top and chucking them softly to the side. I lost my footing more than once and slid down, scraping my palms and legs on the jagged rocks even through my jeans. And each time, I held my breath, hoping the whole thing wouldn’t come down on us.
After about fifteen minutes, I had cleared enough of an opening to reach my arm through. I felt around blindly and touched hair. Then a hand locked on to mine and I squeezed.
“My name is Charlotte,” I said, relief flooding my body. “Did I already say that?”
She moaned, and I lay against the jagged incline for what seemed like hours, holding her hand, waiting for help to arrive. I whispered words of encouragement, told Teresa about my encounter with her brother. She laughed weakly when I mentioned that I’d called him an asshole.
Finally, after getting the pleasantries out of the way, I asked the million-dollar question. “Teresa, do you know how this happened?”
The emotion that spiked within her was the polar opposite of what I’d expected. It had me questioning everything I’d learned, everything I knew about the doctor. Because the sensation that radiated out of her with such force that my breath caught in my chest was not fear or anxiety, but guilt. Sorrowful, regret-filled guilt. I waited a moment, analyzed what she was feeling, until I heard a meek, “No. I don’t know what happened.”
Shame consumed her and shock consumed me. I didn’t know what to say. If I were reading her right, she did this. It was somehow her fault. But that couldn’t be. There was simply no way she’d done this to herself. Why would she?
And I had felt guilt so clearly on her husband, too. So deeply, he reeked of it.
I didn’t ask her anything further, and let her rest as I mulled over the new chain of events in my mind. Was it a botched suicide attempt? What could she have had to gain by killing herself in such a way? Why not just take a bottle of pills? Her husband was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. And even if she’d set the whole thing up, how did one go about causing a cave-in? Maybe she was feeling guilty because she’d accidently caused the collapse. But her guilt was much more than that. Her shame much stronger.
“Charley?”
I blinked to attention and saw Cookie stumbling along the tracks with her phone open to light the way. Clearly she hadn’t taken advantage of Misery’s sporting goods department.
“I’m right here. There’s been a cave-in.”
She stopped and looked up. “My goodness. Is she under that?”
“I think she’s on it, but she’s hurt. Did you get ahold of Uncle Bob?”
“Yes, and Agent Carson.” She leaned against the mine wall, her breathing labored from her trek.
“What on planet Earth are you wearing?” I asked when I noticed the leg warmers around her ankles.
“Don’t start with me. How did this happen?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“The mine just collapsed?”
“With Teresa in it.” I thought that would get an emotional response from Teresa, but I got nothing, and I realized her hand had gone limp. “I think she passed out. We need to get her some water, and I need a flashlight.”
With my eyes adjusted to the low light, I could just make out what Cookie was leaning against. A loose support beam. “Cookie, you might not want to do that,” I said, just as the beam slipped and the world came crumbling down around us.
Chapter 22
If all hell breaks loose, blame gremlins.
— T-SHIRT
A low rumbling echoed against the cavernous walls as rocks and dirt broke free from the ceiling. I reflexively covered my head with an arm and watched the landslide from underneath my elbow. The amount of earth that dropped straight away astonished me, as though it had been floating in a vacuum all this time, when fate decided to give gravity a kick start. My stomach lurched at the sight, and in an instant, time slowed until it barely crept forward, like a turtle struggling against a category 5 hurricane.
Rocks and debris hung in midair, almost glistening in the dark cavern. I reached out, ran my hands through a stream of dirt, sifted it through my fingers.
I could have run under the cascade of earth and debris and made it through unscathed. I could have run for help. Instead, I risked a glance around. Cookie was frozen midstumble, a massive boulder hovering over her head, inching toward her body, a body that would break like a matchstick house under its weight. She would be crushed.
I sprinted through the thick air, dived, and threw all my weight onto her, tackling her to the ground as time slingshot back with a roaring vengeance. I managed to push her out from under the largest of the rocks as the explosion burst around us, but I didn’t quite clear the boulder as it plummeted to earth, skimming the back of my head, its crushing weight scraping along my spine. A fire erupted down my back, and I clamped my jaw shut in preparation for the onslaught of pain as I covered Cookie’s head with my arms. The rumbling continued for a few seconds more, then silence. Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. As fine streams of dirt dwindled and the dust settled around us, Cookie let rip the most bloodcurdling shriek I’d ever heard. It reverberated against my bones and, surely, against the unstable ceiling.
“Really?” I said, my voice barely audible as I tried to crawl off her. “You’re going to scream now?”
She stopped and looked around warily, blinking dirt from her eyes.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, spitting gunk from my mouth in a series of sputters.
“No, no. Oh, my god, are you?”
I stopped to think about it. “I don’t think so. Not bad.” My back was on fire, but I could move. Always a good sign. “You might not want to scream again. You know, with us being in an unstable cave and all.”
“Sorry.”
Then I remembered Teresa and scrambled over the new-fallen debris and back up the incline. I could still feel her. “Teresa, are you okay?” When I received no answer, I turned to Cookie. “I need you to get a flashlight, some water, and a blanket from Misery, if you can.”
“Absolutely,” she said, slowly rising to her feet.
“Are you sure nothing’s hurt?”
“No, I just…” She looked at me a long time. “You saved my life.”
“No, I didn’t. Swear.” Now was not the time.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Your life flashing before your eyes? Was it a bit disappointing? Because when that happens to me—”
“No, you. The way you moved. Your dad was talking about it, but … I’ve just never seen it.”
She was all dazed and confused. “You need to lay off the sauce, hon. Flashlight?”
“Right. Flashlight, got it.”
She stumbled toward me, and I tried really hard not to giggle. Well, not very hard. I pointed in the opposite direction. She opened her phone and followed the tracks out, walking past a departed miner. My breath caught as I gazed at him. He first watched Cookie walk past, then looked back at me. The lamp on his helmet kept his face dark, but my best educated guess put his death in or around the 1930s.
He tipped his hat toward me as I stared at him. I’d never seen a departed miner before. Minor, yes. Miner, no. His ragged clothes were covered in dirt. Considering the area, they’d probably been mining for copper, or possibly even silver.
He walked toward me, stopped at my feet, and tried to look past me, to see what I was looking at. The departed were a curious lot.
“My name is Charley,” I said to him. He looked back at me, and since he was closer, I could just make out his face. He seemed to be in his late thirties, but mining was a hard life, so it was hard to tell for certain. He had crow’s-feet around his eyes the dirt didn’t quite make it into.
“Hardy.” The hard line of his mouth thinned. “She’s been in there awhile,” he sai
d, his voice strong. He gestured beyond the barricade with a tilt of his head.
I nodded. “She’s been missing for several days. Do you know if she’s hurt? I’m sure she’s dehydrated.”
“I’ll check.” He walked through the mound of dirt I lay on and clearly had every intention of walking straight through me, but was brought up short.
The departed could walk through me when they crossed to the other side. Otherwise, I was solid flesh and bone, even to them. His knee bumped against my rib cage, and he glanced at me in surprise.
“Sorry,” I said, “you’ll have to go around.”
He studied me a long moment, then asked, “What are you?”
“I’m a grim reaper — type thing. But in a good way.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” He tipped his hat again and went around. In a matter of seconds, he drifted back through with his report. “Looks like she has a broken leg. She tried to splint it, but it looks bad.”
“Damn. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have gangrene by now.” I scanned the area for anything I might use to aid in my rather inadequate rescue attempt. His light helped, but the only thing available was dirt. And rocks. “Do you think I can make it through?” I asked him. “I need to get her out. I don’t know how long that ceiling is going to hold.”
“I think you better try, then, ma’am.” He glanced around the cave. “Maybe you could brace that beam against it?”
“I’d probably just knock more loose.”
“There is that.”
I started digging again. “How’s the other side look?”
“The ceiling is solid.” He disappeared and reappeared again. “The beams on that side are sturdy.”
Teresa was so weak. I could barely feel her now. Rocket said to hurry when he’d popped into Misery two days prior, and hurry I would. I scraped and dug until the opening was big enough for me to get through. With phone in hand, I crawled on my stomach over the jagged rocks. Dirt fell from the ceiling continuously, so my hair was pretty much a solid ball of muck.
Garrett would’ve come in handy about now. I shouldn’t have ditched him. Or tossed his phone into a pond.
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