The Winter People(76)

“Where the hell are you?” Candace yelled from the hole. “Who’s coming next?”

“I am!” Katherine shouted into the hole. “I’m on my way!”

Ruthie let herself imagine it for a minute: escaping down the hill with Fawn, calling 911 on Katherine’s phone, orchestrating a rescue. But Candace believed her mother was in the cave. What if she was right? What if her mother was hurt, or what if Candace got to her first, with her insane conspiracy theories—and her gun?

Ruthie shook her head, lowered her voice. “I’m not leaving.”

She took the doll from her sister’s arms, unwrapped the gun, and showed it to Katherine, holding it in her outstretched palm. “I really think my mother might be in there. And I know that, whatever’s going on, she’d never leave me and my sister on purpose. So, if she is down there, chances are she’s in trouble. And with Candace heading in, things just got worse.”

Katherine looked at the gun, sighed, and nodded.

Ruthie turned to Fawn. “You take the keys and follow the path down to the road. Find the Jeep and call for help. You’re a big girl. You can do this.”

Fawn shook her head determinedly. “No way. Mimi and I are staying with you. We’re going to help you find Mom.”

“Okay,” Ruthie agreed, wishing she knew if she was doing the right thing. But she could stand out here all night debating plans or visualizing scenarios, and in the meantime, her mother might be down there in trouble.

“Both of you just be careful, okay?” Katherine said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, either,” Ruthie said, thinking of the way Katherine had been studying the photo of Auntie’s instructions, how eager she’d seemed to send the girls away.

“What’s taking so long out there, ladies?” Candace shouted.

“Sorry,” Katherine called down into the hole, “couldn’t get the damn snowshoes off. I’m coming!” She shoved her pack in, then scrambled in herself, disappearing quickly.

“Mimi and me next,” Fawn said. Ruthie handed the flashlight to her little sister.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Ruthie promised, making sure the gun’s safety was on, just like Buzz had shown her, before tucking it into her coat pocket.

Fawn’s size definitely put her at an advantage. She slipped through the narrow passageway with ease, the flashlight beam illuminating craggy walls of dark, damp stone.

Ruthie took a deep breath and followed. The tunnel smelled like wet rocks, dirt, and … woodsmoke? No mistaking it—there was a fire burning somewhere close by. The opening was tight, and she squeezed through on her belly like a cork in a bottle, head low, eyes on her sister’s feet ahead of her. Ruthie’s heart raced, and she was breathing so fast she was afraid she might pass out.

“You okay, Ruthie?” Fawn called back.

“Fine,” Ruthie said, her voice small and squeaky. Was the tunnel getting even smaller? She imagined the stones pushing down, squeezing her until her ribs began to crack and her eyeballs popped out. If her instinct was right and her mother turned out to be in here somewhere, Ruthie might just have to kill her for putting them through this. She was more frightened than she could ever remember being.

“Don’t worry, the tunnel gets wider,” Fawn promised.

“Who’s worried?” Ruthie mumbled, pretty sure her heart was going to seize up at any second. Her elbows hurt from dragging herself along the rough stone.

Suddenly everything went black.

“What happened to the light?” Ruthie called, panic rising.

“I think it died?” Fawn called back. There was the sound of the flashlight being shaken, batteries rattling dully in the plastic case.

It was pitch-black now, darker than anything Ruthie had ever imagined—a darkness that seemed to go on forever.

This is what it feels like to be buried alive, she thought.

“Never mind, just keep going,” Ruthie called out, trying to make herself sound brave.

Fawn was right, the tunnel did widen; but then it narrowed again. She closed her eyes tight, tried to trick herself into believing that it wouldn’t be dark when she opened them. Ruthie had to crawl on her belly, arms bent, as she used her elbows and toes to propel herself along. The tunnel itself went on for about ten feet at a steep decline after the flashlight went out. Her jacket and shirt rode up, and her stomach was scraped by the rough rock floor of the tunnel.

“Stop,” she said out loud.

“We’re almost there,” Fawn called back, her voice muffled. “I see light.” She sounded much farther away than Ruthie had imagined her.

Ruthie shoved her backpack in front of her, listened to the faint sounds of Fawn scrabbling along. When, at last, she dared to open her eyes, she saw the soft glow of flashlights ahead. A few more feet and Ruthie realized she could move to her hands and knees. A few feet beyond that and she emerged into a large, cozy chamber. Ruthie stood up tentatively, stretching, looking around. She shouldered the backpack and checked to make sure the gun was still in her jacket pocket.

Just don’t think about being underground, Ruthie told herself.

Fawn held the flashlight out to her. “It works again. I guess I just didn’t have the switch on right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ruthie said. “You’re a very brave kid, you know that?” Fawn smiled up at her.