“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” I whisper, afraid that whatever is on the other side of the tunnel will hear us.
Cillian brings his spread palms to the back of his head. Standing there with fingers clasped and elbows bent, rocking from heels to toes, processing what lies ahead of us. “I fucking knew this place was a bad idea,” he declares through gritted teeth. He slams his hands down, now in clenched fists, which thrash against the air, as he lets out a roaring grunt. “Fuck, Pax. What is happening to her? To this place? All of it?” he exclaims, now staring at me, but I say nothing.
I don’t know what the fuck to say. He’s right. I wish I knew the answer to any of these questions, but I don’t.
My lungs expand, taking in a smog-coated breath. “Cil…” I begin, but his arms whip in front of me as he forcefully tugs on my forearm with one hand and shushes me with the other.
“Stop,” he whispers, tilting his head in the direction of the narrow passageway. “Did you hear that?”
Bobbing my eyes side to side, I try to focus in on the silence. “No,” I respond as Cillian’s fingers dig into my flesh.
“Be quiet. Listen,” he urges me.
Standing completely still, I turn my ear to the front of the tunnel but still hear nothing. I wait a few seconds more, about to break the silence, when I finally hear something.
What the fuck was that?
I break free from his grip on my forearm and tiptoe closer to the entrance, Cillian following closely behind. A slow creak bellows from the other side of the tunnel of corn stalks, followed by a thud of footsteps sounding like they are walking upward.
“Fuck this, we have to see if she is there,” Cillian says, already heading to the narrow passageway.
Before I can nod in agreement, Cil takes the lead.
“Holy shit,” he exclaims in frustration.
“What is it?”
“This shit is even narrower than I thought. Look.”
I move to where he is standing, pointing at the narrow entryway. Much like how a funhouse mirror contorts when you move, the closer we get to the tunnel's opening, the smaller it appears.
“Maybe there is a way around it,” I suggest.
“Fuck that, we don’t have time,” he grunts as he shifts sideways and maneuvers through the tight space.
Following his lead, our bodies contort as our motions are limited to more of a sideways shuffle.
I know how claustrophobic Cillian is, but he puts on a brave facade in his desperation to find our girl. My shoulder rubbing up against his, I extend my fingers, reaching for his. Without a word, his fingers connect with mine.
We continue our contorting motion, hands intertwined, minds racing, but we remain in utter silence as we walk for what feels like miles. The air trapped between the monstrous corn stalks feels heavy and constricting, which causes beads of sweat to trickle onto my brow. Even worse, silken, stringy cobwebs brush against our faces, as do the rustling stems of the dry stalks that have created a confining barrier around us.
Lost in our tense motions, I almost forget about the sliver of light beneath us. I tilt my head and focus on my footing, when suddenly, the brightness intensifies, and a squall of fresh air hits our faces.
Finally, the fucking end of this claustrophobic nightmare is near. I try to turn my head to look past where Cillian stands in front of me, but I can’t see anything.
I hear a crunching sound beneath my shoes. Although the light reflects on the ground, it’s still too dark to see what is causing the crunch.
“Fuck, Pax, you see that?” Cillian exclaims, as we reach the end of the tunnel.
He slides out, shifting his broad shoulder forward. Expecting him to run, since we are no longer trapped, my fast gate crashes into his backside.
“What is it?” I ask frantically, but he doesn’t answer or move.
He clears his throat, back still turned to me, blocking my way out of the tunnel. “Did you know this was here?” I know him well enough to know that when there is a crack in his usually smooth baritone, it’s because he is trying to repress something.
“What is it?” I ask again.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves forward, clearing the way for me to jolt out of the tunnel of hell. Another crunch comes from beneath my feet.
