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“I know.” She sighed. “Misty ran out the upper stair door, right after Jen said you two would never make it here alive,” Christy said. “I assumed she was going to try to warn you.”
“She texted us just in time,” I said. “Jen had planted a bomb in our car.”
“She hit the cover lever, then went after Misty,” Christy went on. “The control box was off the wall, propped up on the floor, wires showing. I noticed just as I dove in.”
“She must’ve brought it in with her,” I said.
“And she took it with her when she left,” Mason added.
The cover closed before I could get back up,” Christy said. Her voice was pitching up a little. “The air tanks were turned off. Jen and Misty never came back.”
“We’ll find her in time,” I said. I put my hands on her shoulders, and she surprised me by falling right into my arms and sobbing. “I promise, we will. But I have to call your mother and fill her in. She’ll kill me for not telling her sooner.”
“I’ll do it,” Christy said. She closed her hand around the metal mermaid on her chest. “I owe her one.”
“You owe her all of them, kid."
* * *
MISTY
Crouching in the far end of the sluice pipe where there was barely enough light from a sliver of moon to see by, Misty fumbled with that stupid Crisis Companion her mother had sent her. She’d totally forgotten that she’d shoved it into her jacket pocket and now she was trying to see what miraculous rescue it had to offer. A phone, maybe? She’d seen it in her sister’s hand, very clearly. It must mean something.
She recalled its enclosed flyer touting the device’s features: seatbelt slicer, mini-can of pepper spray, rape whistle, and that windshield-breaker.
She hadn’t had one of those odd spasms in her chest for several minutes, and pressed her hands there, closing her eyes and whispering her sister’s name. Christy was no longer gasping for air.
Which either meant she was okay, or she was dead.
Misty closed her eyes and everything in her wept. The very core of her twisted into a knot. But the devastating thought was just that— a thought. Not a feeling. Her only sensation was relief that the spasms in her chest had ended.
“Be okay, be okay, be okay.”
“Where are you, you little shit?” Jen Scott called.
Misty clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she’d whispered aloud. Her eyes wide, she cast them back down the tunnel. She was crouching near the opening on the far side. Beyond, there was a hundred-foot clearing, backed by a wall of trees. Maybe a forest.
Should I head for the woods? Might be easier to hide. But I’d have to cross all that open space, and she’d see me for sure.
She looked back up the tunnel. A beam of light appeared, and she gasped behind her hand. It was Jen Scott’s flashlight, waving back and forth across the weed and wildflower field beyond the culvert’s entrance. Misty thought she had probably trampled down grasses on the way in. It had been ass-high. She’d probably left a clear trail.
“Nobody’s coming to save you, Misty. There’s nobody left to save you.”
Oh, God, what did that mean? Was Christy dead? Had she done something to Jeremy, too? Had Rachel and Mason got her text in time? Had she even sent it? Misty’s mind was spiraling.
And then suddenly, Fuck that crazy bitch.
Christy. She had just felt Christy inside her head. Or channeled her in that way that happened with the two of them sometimes. It had always. When one was in some kind of stressful situation, the other’s voice would just pop in. Sometimes the other twin was aware of it, sensing it, and other times it happened without them even knowing. Consciously, at least.
Jen was getting closer. Misty had to make a decision. And her feeling that her sister was okay helped her find the will to get up and move again.
The flashlight beam came into the culvert. Decision made. Misty scurried out the opening and quickly ducked to the left. Hugging the grassy mound beside the opening, she leaned in just enough to see the light beam shining from the other end, sweeping the inside, and she jerked her head back out of the way.
Then the beam left the culvert. On her belly, Misty scooted up to road-height and peered across. Jen came striding up from the other side, her light sweeping up and down the pavement.
Misty ducked, then scrambled right back inside the culvert and moved as fast as she could back to the entrance, praying the running water would cover the sounds of her feet moving through it. She ducked out the same way she’d come in, once again crouching to the side to wait, watch, and listen.
Jen shone her light into the culvert from the far end, even walked in a little ways. Misty pressed her back to the cool, sloping ground beside the opening, waiting. She heard Jen sigh. It echoed in the cavern. Then her feet sloshed water a few times and then the culvert went silent.
