A Darkness Absolute (Casey Duncan #2)(7)

She could still be a hostile. This could be her home, and we’ve been lured here. But when she looks up and sees me, she bursts into fresh tears.

I’ve heard that expression before. Bursts into tears. I’ve never really seen it, though, like I’d never seen a storm strike before today. This is exactly what it sounds like: a dam bursting, tears coming so fast they leap from her cheeks as she falls to her knees, face upturned to mine.

“Oh, God,” she says. “Please be real. Tell me you’re real.”

Anders crawls to the edge. “Just hold on. We’re going to get you out—” He stops. “Nicole?”

She’s looking up, blinking as hard as she can. “Will?”

“Holy shit,” he whispers. Then, “It’s me, Nicole. Will Anders. Just hold on. We’re going to get you out of there.”

She grimaces, as if she’s trying to smile. Then the tears come again, body-racking sobs of relief as she falls to the floor.





FIVE

As we lower the rope, Anders whispers to me, “Nicole Chavez. She disappeared last year in the fall. We found—We thought we found her body. We were sure of it. The clothing—”

He shakes his head. Time for that later. We’ve lowered the rope, and Nicole reaches for it but misses. Anders shines his light down and says, “Nicki?” and she looks up straight into the beam and yelps, hands going to her eyes.

“Sorry,” he says and turns the flashlight aside. “There. Light’s off. Just take hold of the rope. Good. You’ve got it. Now put your foot on the first knot…”

He coaches her, and she tries—damn it, she tries so hard, and every time I say, “Here, we’ll come help,” she says, “No, I’ve got this.” But she doesn’t have it. She’s too weak.

I look at that hole, not even big enough to stretch out in, and I hear Anders’s words

Disappeared last year in the fall.

My stomach heaves.

“Nicole?” I call. “Just wait. Will’s coming down.”

Anders shakes his head at me. “You should be the one.”

“She knows you.”

“But I’m probably going to need to haul her up.”

“Right. Okay.”

I climb down the rope. When I reach the bottom, I say, “I’m Casey Butler.”

“Pleased to meet you, Casey Butler.” She hiccups a laugh that turns into a sob and falls against me. I enfold her in a hug, and she’s so thin I could have hauled her up that rope myself. I tell her it’ll be all right, she’s safe now, we found her. Then she pulls back suddenly.

“We need to go.”

“It’s okay. We’re the only ones here.”

She starts to shake, her fingers gripping my arms. “No, we need to go. Please. Quickly. Before he…”

She can’t even finish, and I try to calm her, but she’s too agitated. Help has finally arrived, and she needs to get out now.

I fix the rope around her waist and knot it as well as I can. Then I give Anders the go-ahead. He pulls her up, and I help by boosting her.

She’s just beyond my reach when she convulses, saying, “No!” and I yell, “Will! Hold on!” and she’s kicking, and I’m trying to grab her, telling Anders to lower her again. He gets her down, and the moment her feet touch the furs, she’s scrambling for the crate, saying, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just—I need—” She reaches it and drops to her knees and pulls off the cover. Inside are two books with battered bindings. As she pulls one out, pages fall, and I see handwriting and realize they’re journals. Filled journals.

“I’m sorry,” she says as more pages fall. “I just need—I have to take them. Please.”

“Of course,” I say, and I gather the pages, and she says, “I know I should leave them. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We have a bag.”

She lets out a shuddering sigh and then, hugging the journals to her chest, she lets Anders pull her up.

*

When I climb out, Anders is examining Nicole, and she’s staring at him, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.

“You look just like I remember,” she says. “You’re so…” She flushes and drops her gaze with an awkward laugh. “Sorry. I’ve been dreaming of someone rescuing me for so long that I can’t help thinking this must be one of those dreams, because if I ever get rescued, it’s going to be by a couple of miners who haven’t seen a shower in weeks.”

“Oh, I’m not nearly as clean as you think,” Anders says. “You just can’t see the dirt. And Casey scrubbed up before she climbed down to rescue you. She’s such a prima donna.”

Nicole laughs, a real one, and looks up at him. “I remember that about you. You were always funny and kind, and I wanted to get to know you better.” Another flush. “Not like that. I just mean you seemed nice.”

Her hands flutter on her lap, and as Anders examines her, he keeps teasing, that gentle way of his, but even as he does, he sneaks me looks that tell me this is not the woman he remembers. She’s dangerously thin, and up close, I can see signs of malnutrition, her hair patchy, rashes on her skin.

“Can we leave now?” she says. “Please? I’m not hurt, and I’d really like to get out of here. I can make it. Just show me the way.”