“Hell,” another voice said.
“They’ll punish us all for talking!”
“I don’t want to die!”
I was about to say something to calm them down – a promise to get them all out – when the
flickering lights dimmed and switched to red.
“They heard us!” a voice hissed. “See what you did?!”
The tunnels, which had a moment ago been filled with their voices, were suddenly impossibly silent. The reaction of the others to the red light, and the odd color, was enough to let me know something bad was looming. I knew it had little to do with their talking. I slid the knife back in my boot and looked down the hall for a place to hide. Strange, moving shadows from the way I had come danced toward me, and I knew my exit was blocked. Mick’s warning echoed in my
thoughts. He had told them about me to keep his cover, and they were coming for me. I didn’t blame him. He had to maintain his lie; it had been my stupidity that had brought me here. I should have listened to him, taken him more seriously. All I knew now was that I had two
options of escape – left or right. I went left – away from the looming shadows – running as hard as I could.
“There she is!” a voice yelled. “Stop!”
Behind me, a group of three loomed tall in the hall. Their faces were shadowed and impossible to see in the flickering light. I ran harder at the man’s yell and took the first sharp turn I came across. I took more turns, doubling back on myself several times, uncertain of my direction.
They stayed close behind me, their Watcher endurance impossible to outrun. Sweat cascaded
down my forehead merging with my storm-drenched clothes. My boots squeaked from the rain
as I ran, betraying my path.
I ducked into another hall and tried the first door I came to, knowing I could never outrun them –
I would have to hide. It was locked, so I moved to a second door. It swung open and a sharp smell of rotting petrifaction rolled out across the space. The smell turned my stomach, and I pressed a hand to my nose involuntarily. The sound of running feet grew closer, catching up. My choices were running out: it was either the smell or certain death. I dove inside, and the door shut behind me with a solid click. As soon as the door was shut, I tripped over something squishy in the completely dark room and fell hard. Something soft broke my fall and a trash bag from a large pile of rotting garbage fell over my torso. I started to move it away, to go back to the door so I could listen for the men chasing me, but the sound of their feet on the floor made me freeze.
The red light from outside dimmed as my chasers stopped in front of my door.
“Where’d it go?” a rough voice asked.
‘It’ – I was an ‘It.’
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” another said.
The door swung open with a sharp jerk. There was nothing I could do. I had been caught. My body was frozen in fear. Their deadly natures and hard faces were terrifying as they stared down at me. I didn’t know what to do, all of my self-assurance and bravado deserting me in an instant.
I had no one to protect, no one needed me. It was just me and them, and they would definitely win.
“It’s not in here.”
One of the figures put his arm to his nose, his face transforming into disgust. “Tell Misha to run the incinerator again. It smells in here.”
“Maybe it ran for the barracks,” the third man suggested. The door swung shut and they ran on swift feet down the hall.
Breathing heavily, despite the rancid smell, I finally pushed the trash bag off. Why had they not seen me? I had been looking straight at them, defenseless and obvious.
I put my ear to the slimy door and listened for them to return, wondering if they were pulling a trick. As I breathed in the stench, and listened for the subtle sound of footfalls, I went over my options. I had to get back to the club, or find another way out, if there was one. But how? I had made so many twists and turns in my panicked flight that I wasn’t sure which tunnel led where.
My fear of wandering down here for days felt like more of a reality than ever. Too, there was no way I could get out of here without being noticed. More feet stomped past, voices raised in alarm, and I steeled myself. I would have to take the chance.
I cracked the door open and peeked out. The red lights flashed a pulsing light on the walls and the harsh sounds of yells and screams danced toward me. I opened the door wider once I was confident the hall was deserted. I looked back to shut the heavy door again, and I saw why the men hadn’t noticed me. There where heaps of garbage bags scattered about and around them, on top of them, everywhere, were the lifeless shapes of human bodies. Their wide eyes stared at me in quiet supplication – a final plea for rescue on their dead faces. The faces were varied in race and sex and no characteristic united them beyond the fact they were all dead. Feeling stunned and sick to my stomach, wanting to punish whoever had ended their lives, I shut the door quickly and put my back against it. Trembling, I tried to will the images from my mind. It was
impossible.
No wonder the other prisoners feared this place so much! The Watchers here killed often and respected the dead as much as they respected their garbage…I fought an overwhelming anger as I leaned against the door separating me from the dead, knowing it would just get me killed. I did, however, make the quiet resolution to end this place; to burn it straight to hell.
Footsteps from my right reminded me of my precarious situation and brought me back to the
present. I pushed away from the door and ran down the corridor. More turns, more lost corridors, which were as disorienting as they were narrow, had me utterly lost, but at least I was away from that door. The dead people’s faces kept appearing in front of my eyes, and all I could think about was the possibility of being next – of joining them in their eternal slumber.
I slowed my pace three tunnels away from the door and lowered my head, figuring if I didn’t look guilty the Seekers searching for me might not recognize me as an intruder. The flashing red lights kept up their regular blinking and the deserted hall was eerie in its silence. If they knew I was down here why not have more people out looking for me? Unless they weren’t worried
about me escaping? A place like this was obviously geared toward keeping people in rather than out; the maze tunnels and the locked doors were proof of that. They knew I had two options –
wander around until I was found or stay lost forever.
Soft feet on the ground alerted my ears to an approaching sentry and, not able to help the instinct despite my attempt at subterfuge, I hid, knowing that whatever façade I put on wouldn’t be enough to deceive the guard. I was a terrible liar, and they would know I didn’t belong in an instant. I ducked into the first door I touched, hoping it wasn’t another mass grave. It was worse.
I had walked into the lion’s den complete with lion.
The room was large and decorated in satin and silk. Red and black were the primary colors, and there was a feeling of opulence, of disregarded wealth to the room. A large dais filled up the middle of the room, complete with a large chair placed in the center. Around the dais were smaller, less impressive chairs, which faced the tribute to the ruler of this underground realm.
Lounging in the large chair, which was more like a throne, his long legs crossed at the ankles, was a figure I had only seen through Spider’s thoughts. It was the redheaded man Spider had seen with Daniel. He looked up as I shut the door, his black eyes tinted with red, and the people in the chairs turned around to stare.
“What is it?” the man on the throne asked in a voice thick with malice.
“Oh…wrong door…” I said starting to retreat back to the corridor.
“Wrong door!?” the man said. “That is not a mistake I like from my recruits, new blood. Make it again, and you’re dead.”
“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” I promised.
My backwards retreat was halted as I backed
into something with a soft thump. I looked back and saw another set of dark eyes staring at me. “Sorry to disturb you, my lord,” a voice I recognized as one of my chasers said. “Mick said a girl broke in upstairs and ran down here before he could stop her. This one fits the description.”
“Someone actually tried to break in?” ‘my lord’ asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Probably another sobbing family member searching for their relative. Take her to the cemetery and teach her what happens to those who trespass. Don’t kill her…You’ve had your share of kills this week.”
“Yes, my lord. Of course,” the man said.
The redheaded man waved his hand in dismissal. My captor pulled me out of the room with an iron grip I couldn’t break. “Get off of me, creep!” I said as I fought against his hands.
“Has it changed or not, Aaron?” one of my other chasers asked, moving forward to peer at me as I struggled weakly against the hand holding me. My lack of superhuman strength was obvious, but they couldn’t hear my thoughts, which was puzzling to them.
“I think not,” Aaron, the one holding my wrists, said.
“Then, we won’t need the silver-lined tomb,” his buddy said conversationally, “which is good, because I think it might still be occupied.”
I felt my blood chill and turn to ice as the man’s face weaved with strange shadows in the dancing red light. Tomb? Panic rising in my chest, I decided that fighting was better than accepting my fate. I put all of my weight against Aaron as a brace and kicked out at the man in front of me. I used Aaron’s surprise at the maneuver to break his grip and started running again, desperate to escape. I didn’t get very far. Aaron tackled me, all the wind rushing out of my lungs with the hit. Angry, he pulled me to my feet by my hair. I grunted in pain as hair tore away from my scalp, but I was still in survival mode. I tried to punch him, knowing it would hurt me more than him. My kick to the other Watcher had done little but hurt my toes. Aaron stopped the punch, and leaned forward with an evil smile as chilling as the word ‘tomb’.
“You’re lucky I follow orders,” he said.
“Because if you didn’t, you would kill me and gobble up my soul,” I said. “I wish that threat were scary right now. I really do.”
Aaron raised his hand to slap me, but stopped himself. “Are ready for a slow death?” he asked maliciously.
“Go to hell,” I spat.
“Someday,” he replied. I couldn’t tell from his tone if that fact made him happy or sad.
Aaron’s friend chuckled, but stopped at the expression on Aaron’s face. He and another figure, my third chaser, closed me in, pushing me toward Aaron from behind. I didn’t get the chance to try and fight again, because in the next moment I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head and knew nothing beyond darkness.
I woke to more darkness. It was the darkest darkness I had ever experienced. It was a world totally devoid of light. I felt as if it were closer than normal, and that it was trying to suffocate me. I gasped with my return to consciousness, but didn’t move, my body slower than my brain. I felt groggy and confused, so I tried to take stock of my situation. The first thing I was aware of was pain. The back of my head throbbed, mirroring my run-in with the asphalt so many weeks ago. My toes ached from the kick, and my wrist hurt from where Aaron had grabbed it. The
wound on my neck hurt the worse, though, and I knew that was where I needed to focus my
attention. It took me a couple of minutes to find the stability to check on the wound, but when I did I realized my problems were a lot bigger than a headache.
When I raised my hand to put it to my head, I encountered a stone barrier inches above my body.
Uncertain of what the barrier meant, I put my other hand against the stone and pushed. The stone remained stationary, unbending as I pushed against its flat surface. My breathing turned ragged as my hands explored more of my surroundings. I was closed in on all sides by the stone and only had inches to spare on every side. Panic as frightening as the unknown dark rose as I pounded and pushed at all of the walls, searching for a way out. Had they built a stone fortress around me while I had slept?
The panic had me feeling lightheaded, coupled by the lack of air I was struggling to catch around my ragged breathing. I stopped pounding on the walls – it was just wasting my air and my
energy – and focused on calming myself. Using the mental techniques Margaret had been
teaching me, I urged the panic to the back of my brain. I took slow breaths and imagined a wall protecting me from pain, fear, and desperation. Around the slow breathing, I started thinking again.
My thoughts focused on escape; that was priority number one. I knew that nothing was seamless, not even a stone box. There had to be a seam somewhere. Still breathing slowly, I felt for the edges of the walls and, inch by inch, searched for chink in the armor. After long moments where the panic teetered on the edge of my awareness, I found a small crack, no bigger than a needle, above me. It was all I needed for hope. I scooted as close as I could to the crack in the cramped space and tried to peer through. The little bit of light that I saw was strange – grey and dim – but at least it was light. Light meant I wasn’t underground or buried someplace I couldn’t escape from. A crack was nothing compared to what I needed to escape, though. I sighed and rested my head on the bed of stone to think.
Ellen’s face popped into my head, followed by Alex and Sam, Beatrice and Han, Margaret and Jackson. Finally, I saw Daniel, my brain saving him for last. His green eyes were full of laughter and his dark hair fell softly against his skin; it was the way he had looked the night before he had left to go on his mission. It was how he had looked before the picture of him looking so serious.
The picture! Another surge of hope rolled through me as an idea occurred. I felt my pockets, searching to see if they had emptied them before putting me in the tomb. The shape of the picture was immediately felt against my hand as I squeezed the fabric of my jeans. They hadn’t searched me; the picture, as well as my rock and the bag of magic the voodoo woman had given me were still there. The Seekers hadn’t thought I would have anything that could help me escape. They had thought me another useless human. I was glad, for once, to be underestimated.
I silently thanked Alex for her advice to always carry a knife and started trying to reach the real source of my bid at freedom: my boot. It was there my knife was hidden safely from prying
Seekers. It was difficult to reach, but not impossible. Many bruised elbows, knees, and knuckles later, I managed to pull the knife from my boot. I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the cold steel against my hands and pulled it to chest level. I opened it quickly and started jabbing the knife into the pinprick of a hole that was my freedom. The knife didn’t do as much damage
against the stone as I would have liked, but I kept digging anyways. I figured if I dug long enough the stone would be forced to bend to my will; even a slightly bigger hole would mean more freedom to breathe freely. If I couldn’t dig myself out at least I could give myself more time. I hoped Alex would come searching for me, finding me like she always found me. I knew she wouldn’t let me down – not when it mattered.
Millimeter by precious millimeter, I etched away my prison. I had to rest occasionally, but I always stopped with my face close to the hole in order to catch the air, which smelled damp and thick. During one such rest, I heard the sound of hard boots on uneven stone. I focused on the sound, adrenaline rushing through me. Was it my captors back to finish the job? Or was it
someone who could help me? If I didn’t yell out, would I lose my only chance for survival? If I did, would they open my prison and finish the job?
I would take my chance. “Help!” I called in a whisper, my throat raspy and dry. I tried again.
“Help!!” The second time was better, louder. I heard the boots stop, then come closer. My
precious light from the hole was blocked for a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity. Then light, g
lorious grey light filtering through the storm clouds overhead, lit my prison. Or was it a tomb?
I scrambled out of the stone slab realizing I hadn’t been alone. My body had crushed some of the bones I had shared the tomb with, but others had survived. A hand had been near my leg, the remainder of a skull near my head. I shivered at the sight and looked away from the remains. Tall tombs of white and grey were opposite me in long lines. The stone coffin I had crawled from was only one tomb in a marching row of similar tombs. I had been left to die in a cemetery. I would have found it darkly fitting had I not been so terrified.
I clutched at the edge of the tomb, my head spinning, feeling weak and oxygen deprived. In such a state, it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t alone. In my desire to be free I had ignored my rescuer. It was a wonder I could have ignored him at all.
Frozen as he held the top of the stone coffin he had removed – his green eyes gloriously wide and surprised – was Daniel. His hair was shorter, and his face was tense, full of restless burning emotion I wasn’t sure he was aware of, but there was no mistaking him. He stared at me for a long time, his lips searching for words.
“Are you a ghost?” he finally asked.
I started laughing, unable to help it. His voice was so child-like and full of superstitious belief.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“We are in a cemetery,” he replied in a defensive tone.
“I noticed,” I replied.
He finally released the heavy slab of stone and took a step closer. “You’re dead,” he told me seriously.
“Am not. Well, not yet,” I said.
His face lost some of the hardened emotion, and he brought me in close for a fierce hug. I clutched at him, all the worry and fear of the past weeks transferring through our touch.
“How? I mean, what? I mean…” he searched for words to express his confusion.
“Where am I?” I asked ignoring his confusion.
“A cemetery,” he said unhelpfully.
“I was down in the sewers and I stumbled into this room, then I was caught and everything went dark and I woke up here…Why didn’t they kill me?”
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