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The hallway began to fill with smoke as I worked. Great black clouds of it rolled over the ceiling, spreading fast in my direction. The fire spreading beyond the door to the cell he’d kept me in.
I hoped it consumed everything. Every nook and cranny of this accursed place needed to burn.
The lock clicked in protest at my advances, and I coughed raggedly, my lungs aching at the smoke working its way ever lower.
I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against the still-cool metal of the door to steady myself, letting every sense other than touch fall away. Willing my trembling hands to still as they worked.
The lock made a loudclack,and I held the broken bits of metal tweezer in place, reaching for the handle, praying.
It opened, and if it weren’t for the need for clean air battering at my rib cage I’d have paused to give Drake the finger through the camera.
I tripped up the steps, letting the heavy door fall closed behind me, one of the two long, sharp bits of metal still in my hand, wielded like a hunter’s knife as I clutched the railing, hauling myself all the way up.
The darkness in the tight space was lined with a slice of light carving the stairs in two. Ahead, slanted wood doors lay nose to nose, and sun pushed through between them.
The sun.
I smiled to myself, burning tears from the smoke still tracking down my cheeks.
Unthinking I tried to lift the wood door with my left arm and screamed at the contact with the wounds there.
“Fuck!”
I pushed through with my right, bare feet leaving hard cement in favor of soft earth. Thick brush stood in my way on the other side, and I needed to claw through to get free, biting my lower lip to keep from screaming as it scratched along my wounds.
I fell to my knees in the dirt, twisting to look back at the hole in the ground I’d just crawled out of. You’d never know it was there unless you were looking for it. The worn wood of the cellar doors blended seamlessly with the rest of the overgrowth and the ruddy color of the forest floor all around.
Spinning in a small, slow circle, I took in my surroundings, finding nothing but trees as far as I could see in any direction. I could hear nothing but the chirp of birdsong. The hum of insects.
I found my footing, wincing as the burns along my arm protested the sudden temperature change. The warmth of the daytime sun clung to the forest, even here in the shade, and I sucked air in through my teeth as its humid heat washed over my chilled skin.
If this door was the only way in, then there had to be some sign of which way would lead me out. A road. A path. A tiny ass foot trail. There had to be something.
There!
But as I found my footing again, I realized the one weaving trail of hard packed earth leading away to the right would be the way Drake would likely use to come back, which he was surely already on his way to doing.
I couldn’t go that way.
The sun pierced through the leafy canopy above, but I couldn’t use it to place myself. I’d been underground too long. Had no sense of direction. No landmarks to orient myself. I had no fucking clue which way would carry back to them.
If I went the wrong way, I could wander for days and find nothing. There were more than a few places in northern Cali where even the most knowledgeable hikers could get lost. This could be a fucking nature reserve. Like in that true-crime horror movie Becca and I watched a few weeks ago. That monster had hidden his victims in a hole in the ground a lot like the one I just crawled out of too.
Maybe Drake was taking notes from Netflix hits.
I stepped in what I thought was a northern direction but hesitated, not wanting to be food for local wildlife, not after finally getting free.
I can wait here, my darkness reasoned. Let him think I’d escaped. Come rushing back. Right into a trap of my own.
I laughed at the absurdity of it, looking at the measly bit of semi-sharp metal in my hand and literally nothing else. I could hardly stand.
Revenge would have to wait.
Besides. Rook and Grey deserved their pound of flesh, too. I wouldn’t take that from them.
“This way,” I decided, pressing deeper into the trees when I heard the familiar blare of a train’s horn, coming from somewhere far off through the denser wood to my left. I stopped to listen more intently, needing to be sure I hadn’t imagined the sound.
The horn sounded a second time. Then a third. Then stopped.
