And I know exactly where to look.
I just have to get out first.
I shine my light directly above me and see what looks like a rope ladder a dozen feet up. A small, cracked bit in the wall could be an opening, but how the hell can I get up there? I reach up to grab at the slick, moss-covered wall, and pain shoots through my arm.
I must have been dropped in here from above. Not brought in and set down. Dropped. I wonder how many of the other bodies in here were also dropped from ten feet up. If Elsie was one of them.
Turning around, I sweep over more of the cave and see something in the distance. I walk over to it and notice it’s a wall of loose rock. I pull at it and it begins to crumble, but there is more solid rock behind it. Damp, cold airstreams in through a tiny prick in the wall of hardened rock, and I recoil. But there is another scent there with it. The smell of water. Of hot, muggy summer air.
Looking around me, I search for something blunt. All I have is my flashlight, and if I break it, I’ll be in the dark. It’s tough, though, not the cheap plastic or rugged rubber ones like survivalists have, but heavy and metal like cops carry. I bought it on a whim at a cop supply shop, just because I liked the heft. In case I needed to throw it at something.
Or smash something with it.
I take a deep breath and swing hard. The sound of collapsing rock rumbles down beyond where I hit, but I can’t stop. I swing again, smashing the bottom of my hand when I hit it. It vibrates my arm, and I have a sudden flash of hitting a baseball with a metal bat and feeling the jolt for hours. It’s like that, only worse. Panic is rising in my throat.
I hit the button to turn on the light. It flickers but comes on. Pointing at the weak spot in the wall, I see the hole is open, maybe six inches. I have to keep going. I have to see if there is a way out.
I swing again and again, sounds of effort filling the cave. I glance behind me once to see Elsie, curled up against the wall, her eyes almost empty as she watches me.
Suddenly, I hear something collapsing behind the wall. I shine the light toward it and watch as the hole opens by about two feet. Just enough to squeeze through.
I jump into it, wiggling until I make it inside.
This isn’t a cave. It’s a mine shaft. A collapsed one.
And ahead of me, deep in the distance, I see a pinprick of light. I run toward it, tripping over abandoned equipment, shining my light ahead of me to find my way along a track. It ends where the light was streaming in just a few feet above. Boards block a hole, but they are old and brittle. Soaked by rain and snow and aged by the summer sun for many years.
My shoulder howls in pain from where I was dropped, but the boards splinter and fall apart as I smash into them. I collapse on wet moss, at the mouth of the abandoned mine overlooking the campgrounds. I don’t know exactly where I am, but I think I can figure it out.
I click my flashlight. The light flickers again but stays on.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The park feels impossibly massive as I make my way to the dark trees. I have no idea where I am or how I'm supposed to get back to the campground. But I can't stop. I can't pause and think about it. I have to just put one foot in front of the other and keep going.
An idea flashes through my mind. It's unlikely, but it's all I have. Taking my phone out of the bra pocket where I've learned to keep it, I open it and check the bars. There's just enough, and I send up a quick thank you. I may not believe in the supernatural, but I’ll take all the help from the universe or spirits or ghosts or whatever I can get at this point.
“Please,” I murmur. “Please work.”
I click through a series of commands and a map appears on my screen. I nearly cry in relief.
“Thank you, Xavier. Thank you for all of your disturbing people tracking ways.”
I don't know how long the signal is going to last, so I move as quickly as I can, simultaneously following the map and trying to memorize directions. I'm not too far from the campground, but it's going to be a hike. Praying I can push myself through it, I follow the tracker connected to Dean's phone.
He told Xavier to stop tracking him, but I'm thankful Xavier tends to take instructions as being temporary. Of course, considering why we came out here, Dean might have given him permission to reinstate the tracking. I don't care. I don't care why he did it or why it's working. All that matters is for this moment, I have a path in front of me to follow, and I hope with everything in me, he's at the end of it. That I still have a chance.
I want to try to call Sam, but I'm afraid to take my eyes away from the map. I got in touch with him
