The Last Time I Lied(104)

It’s a weak blow. Just enough to shock him into letting me go.

I give him a shove, knocking him off-balance. Then I run again, this time in the opposite direction. Back the way I came. Toward the lake.

“Emma!” Theo shouts at my back. “Don’t!”

I keep running. Heart pounding. Pulse loud in my ears. Trees and rocks seem to lurch at me from all sides. I dodge some, slam into others. But I don’t stop. I can’t.

Because Theo’s also up and running. His footfalls echo through the woods behind me, outpacing my own. He’ll catch up sooner rather than later. Outrunning him isn’t an option.

I need to hide.

Something suddenly looms before me in the darkness.

The monolith.

I run to it, swerving right until I’m at its northwestern edge. I shine my light over the rock wall, seeing the fissure that opens up a foot from the ground.

The cave Miranda had crawled into.

I drop to my hands and knees in front of it and shine the flashlight inside. I see rock walls, dirt floor, a dark recess that runs at least a few feet into the ground. A shimmer of cool air wafts out of it, and I let out an involuntary shiver.

Theo’s voice rings out from somewhere close. Too close.

“Emma? I know you’re here. Come on out.”

I flick off my light, drop to my stomach, and back into the cave, worried I might not even fit. I do. Barely. There’s roughly six inches of space above me and slightly less on each side.

The sky outside the cave brightens. Theo’s flashlight. He’s reached the rock.

I will myself not to breathe as I slide back even more. The cave floor feels uneven, like I’m on a slant, edging downhill.

A flower of light blooms on the ground near the mouth of the cave. I hear the crunch of Theo’s footsteps, the sound of his labored breaths.

“Emma?” he says. “Are you here?”

I move back even farther, wondering how deep the cave goes, hoping it’s far enough to escape the beam of Theo’s flashlight if he aims it inside.

“Emma, please come out.”

Theo’s right outside the cave now. I see his shoes, his toes pointed in the opposite direction.

I continue to slide backward, faster now, praying he can’t hear me. I feel water dripping down the cave walls. Mud starts to squish beneath me, gurgling up between my fingers.

I’m still sliding, although now it’s not by choice. It’s because of the mud and the tunnel’s slant, which turns sharply steeper. I dig my knees and the heels of my palms into the mud, hoping they’ll act as brakes. It only sends me slipping even more.

Soon I’m sliding fast, out of control, my chin leaving a groove in the mud. When I flick on the flashlight still around my wrist, all I see are gray walls, brown mud, the shockingly long path I’ve just traveled.

Then the ground below me vanishes, and I’m suddenly in midair.

Dropping.

Helpless and flailing.

My screams swallowed by their echoes ringing through the cave as I plummet into nothingness.





39


Water breaks my fall.

I drop right into it, caught by surprise, unable to close my mouth before plunging under. Liquid pours in, choking me as I keep falling, somersaulting in the depths, the flashlight’s beam streaking through the water, revealing dirt, algae, a darting fish.

When I finally do touch bottom, it’s a gentle bump and not the life-ending crash against hard stone I expected. Still, it’s a shock to my nervous system. I push off from the bottom as water continues to tickle the back of my throat. I gag, coughing air that bubbles past my face. Then I’m at the surface, my head emerging and water unplugging from my nostrils. I cough a few times, spitting up water. Then I breathe. Long and slow inhalations of dank, subterranean air.

With the flashlight miraculously still dangling from my arm, I paddle in place, trying to get a sense of my surroundings. I’m in a cavern roughly the same size as Camp Nightingale’s mess hall. The beam of the flashlight stretches over black water, damp rock, a strip of dryish land surrounding the pool in a crescent shape. The water itself takes up about half the cave, no larger than a backyard swimming pool. When I aim the flashlight upward, I see a dome of rock above me dripping with stalactites. The cavern’s shape makes me think of a stomach. I’ve tumbled into the belly of a beast.

A dark hollow sits in a corner where rock wall meets cave ceiling. The spot from which I fell. I sweep the flashlight up and down, trying to gauge how far I dropped. It looks to be about ten feet.

I swim forward, heading to the land that partially rings the water. The ground there is studded with pebbles, painted pale by the flashlight. I pull myself onto it and collapse, exhausted and aching.

I reach into my pocket and optimistically search for my phone. It’s still there. Even better, it still works. Thank you, waterproof case.

The phone doesn’t have any signal. Not that I was expecting one this far below ground. Still, I try calling 911 in case, by some small miracle, it actually goes through. It doesn’t. I’m not surprised.

I remember what Detective Flynn said about tracking someone’s location using the GPS on their phones. I can’t help but wonder if that still applies when the missing person is underground. I doubt it. Even if it’s possible, such a thing could take hours, maybe even days to pinpoint my location.