Written in the Scars(74)
“If we get real creative,” Cord says, “we could convince ourselves that we’re around a campfire. Especially the way these headlamps flicker and light up this little spot.”
“We’ve had some good ones,” Jiggs remembers. “Remember the one we had at Old Man Denham’s farm back in our freshman year? We nearly let every single head of cattle out of that field.”
I chuckle at the memory. “Not our best decision, boys.”
“Nah, but it makes for a good story,” Jiggs laughs. “Shit, that was the night I talked Lindsay into going out with me.”
“I remember that,” I say. “We were at The Fountain. She said she’d go for a ride with you if you beat me in a game of pool.”
“And you let me.” Jiggs laughs, but there’s no denying the layer of sadness that creeps into the tone. “Thanks for that, Ty.”
Shaking my head, I look at the small patch of black between us.
“Ty?”
I raise my head slowly until I’m looking at Jiggs. His eyes are filled with a look that can only be described as pure fear, a look I’ve never seen on him before. A look that rips me to the core.
“Yeah?” I reply.
“We’re gonna get out of here, right?”
“Sure, we are,” I say, forcing a smile to make my uncertainty a little less obvious. “We’ll be hearing the drill soon. We just need to be patient.”
The air stills as we all decide whether we believe me or not. The drill will come. I do believe that. But will it come in time? And will it do any good? Those are two different questions.
“Hey,” Cord says, rustling us out of our thoughts. “We need to save these lamps.”
Our lungs all fill with air as we realize what this means. Total. Darkness.
One at a time, our lights go off. First Cord’s. Then Jiggs’.
“Here we go,” I whisper, raising my hand to my helmet and flicking my lamp off too.
The pitch black settles over us on the cold, wet floor of hell.
ELIN
The paper cup twirls in my fingers.
Around.
Around.
Around.
The water inside sloshes against the sides, threatening to spill out. It won’t be cold if it does and touches my fingers. It’s sat in there too long for that.
We’ve been in this room for six, maybe seven hours now. In some ways, it feels much shorter than that and in others, so much longer.
I should be getting home from work right about now.
Holding my stomach and closing my eyes, I remember my plan to tell Ty that we are having a baby.
I should be doing that now. Not . . . this.
The water ripples across the cup and I fight to focus on it. Sleep prickles at my consciousness, thanks to the shot by Doctor Walker. Of course, I had to tell him I was pregnant and when I realized that another person would know before Ty, I had a complete meltdown.
I look up as a knock sounds gently on the door. Vernon’s head pokes around the corner.
“Can I get you ladies anything? Anything at all?” he asks.
“My husband and brother and friend.”
His face falls. “We’re trying, Mrs. Whitt.”
“Try harder.”
“We’re discerning their location now. I’ll update you as soon as I know more.”
“You have to find them,” I implore. “You don’t understand . . .”
A part of me feels bad. It’s not his fault, not specifically. Ty chose to go to work even though he knew the risks. But Vernon chose to be the face of Blackwater, so surely he expected some venom from me. If not, he should’ve reconsidered his decision.
“The Pettis family is in the room next to you and the Salis family too. If you would like to see them, it’s the door on your left.”
I nod, but have no interest in seeing them at this point. I don’t even know them, not really, except Sharp, whom I loathe.
“And we haven’t located any family for Cord McCurry. Do you ladies have any idea where to find them?”
My heart lurches in my chest and I look at Lindsay. “We are his family.”
“I mean blood family.”
“You don’t understand, Vernon. We are his family.”
He nods, not understanding, but getting my point.
“There is a Reverend Mitchell here to see you,” he states. “Would you like to see him?”
“Yes. Please,” Lindsay speaks up.
“We’re holding all visitors unless you give us their names specifically. Is there anyone you’d want to see besides your attorney and doctor?”
Lindsay gives them the names of her parents. My heart breaks at the fact I don’t have my parents here.
“Um, Ty’s mom is on a cruise. I’ve called the cruise line and they’re trying to reach her, so if she calls, please put her through. But I’m doubting she’s reachable.”
He looks concerned for a brief moment before smoothing out his features. Eric Parker told us when he visited earlier that Blackwater would try to segregate us from outsiders until this is resolved. He suggested we stay here for proximity purposes, but to fight for access for whomever we wanted to see. So far, we haven’t wanted to see anyone.
“The media is asking if you have a statement . . .”