Keiser.
Nine.
Ten.
Then, my hand met emptiness.
Heart hammering, I yanked it back.
Something rolled. Hit brick.
An anemic yellow beam arrowed the floor.
I blinked at the first illumination I’d seen in hours. Days?
Oh, sweet Jesus, yes! Yes!
I lunged and snatched up the flashlight.
The beam wavered.
Please!
I tightened the casing. The beam steadied. I swept it around my feet.
Filthy water puddled the brick, iridescent black in the pale yellow glow. I slid the beam up the curve of the wall.
The little oval jitterbugged in my shivering grasp. Sniffed the flashlight niche. The small space was empty now, save for rat droppings.
I pointed the beam up.
Sludge-coated brick arched over my head. Not good. Whatever flowed through here must at times fill the whole space. The tunnel I was hunch-walking through was no more than four feet in diameter.
I aimed the beam in front of me. Behind. Six feet out the tiny shaft of light was devoured by darkness.
A tremor shook my body. My teeth chattered.
Keep moving. Must keep moving.
I resumed creeping, wall-leaning, flashlight arcing from side to side. The feeble beam was already starting to weaken.
With each yard, I felt more wetness, more drag on my feet. The puddles merged. The water rose up the sides of my soles. Sewers have to empty into something.
Please, God, don’t let me be walking upstream.
Now and then I stopped to dip a finger. Was the water level rising? Should I turn back? Ahead, I sensed, more than heard, a low murmuring, like wings beating somewhere in the darkness.
One flashlight sweep illuminated an armada of tiny heads rippling the slick surface. I slogged on, refusing to consider what was swimming at my feet.
The filthy water. The rats. The anger and fear. Whatever the trigger, jigsaw memories now winged at me hard.
Adamski.
Claudel.
Ryan.
The confession.
I sloshed on.
The water covered my laces.
The missing phalanges.
The Lac Saint-Jean molars.
Marie-Andrea Briel. Miranda Leaver.
Sebastien Raines.
Had Raines put me here? Had he and Briel learned that I was onto them?
My abduction was still a void. Had I been drugged? Hit on the head? What did it matter? I was here and I had to get out.
Ten steps, then the beam sputtered.
Please, God. No!
I thumbed the switch to preserve the batteries, casting myself into absolute blackness.
The murmuring now had a backbeat of gurgling and slapping. Water covered my laces. My back and hamstrings screamed from the strain of doubling over.
Reverse?
Go forward?
I’d lost all feeling in my fingers and toes. I was shivering wildly. Fever? Hypothermia?
Find an out! Break free!
I continued onward, every cell in my body dedicated to escape.
My scalp tingled.
I ignored it.
Again the tingle, now on my forehead.
Feathery legs brushed my eyelid. The bridge of my nose.
A spider!
My hand flew up and my fingers raked at my face.
Trembling from revulsion, cold, and exhaustion, I leaned into the wall, despair threatening to overwhelm me.
Screw the batteries. I had to have light!
I flicked the switch.
The beam was almost useless except as an emotional crutch. I aimed it ahead, toward the source of the murmuring sound. Saw inky black.
My body was racked with ever more violent shivers.
As I wrapped my arms around my torso, amber light skimmed the brick at my shoulder.
Picked out something.
Breath suspended, I drew the flash close to the wall.
