Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I turn back toward the main chamber, scanning for any other passages or openings that might lead in the same general direction as the one now blocked. The settlement area offers no obvious exits, but as I circle the perimeter, my flashlight catches on a narrow fissure in the far wall—barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through, but definitely a potential path.
With no better options, I approach the opening, testing it with my shoulder. It’s tight but passable. I turn sideways, sucking in my stomach, and edge into the crack, the rough stone scraping against my back and chest as I shuffle forward. The passage angles downward, the floor slippery with moisture, making each step treacherous.
The fissure continues for what feels like an eternity, occasionally widening enough to allow more comfortable movement before narrowing again to a claustrophobic squeeze. My breathing grows labored in the confined space, each inhalation carrying that same strangely metallic scent I noticed earlier, but stronger now. More pungent.
Finally, the passage opens abruptly into another chamber, smaller than the settlement area but still large enough that my light doesn’t reach all corners. The air here is different—heavy with a sickly-sweet odor that makes my stomach clench in instinctive revulsion.
As I sweep my flashlight across the chamber, its beam catches on something pale and reflective near the far wall. Moving closer, the shapeless mass resolves into a horrifying sight: bones. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of bones, piled in a massive heap against the chamber wall. Human bones, the skulls unmistakable among femurs, ribs, vertebrae, all jumbled together in a grotesque monument to death.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper, the words escaping involuntarily as I take an instinctive step backward.
Scattered among the bones are personal effects—clothing from various eras, some rotted to near-dust, others more recent and recognizable. A woman’s high-heeled shoe from perhaps the 1950s. A man’s leather wallet, the material cracked with age. A child’s backpack, the fabric faded but still bearing a recognizable cartoon character. All testimony to lives ended in these caves, consumed by the hungry ones across decades—perhaps centuries.
This is a feeding ground.
A dumping ground for what remains after the hunger is sated.
I force myself to look more closely, dreading what I might find yet knowing I must. Evidence of Lainey among the bones. Proof that she died here rather than transformed. Part of me hopes to find it—death would be a kinder fate than becoming one of the hungry ones.
But my grim search reveals nothing conclusive. No clothing I recognize, no definitive evidence either way.
I back away from the bone pile, eager to be away from this chamber of death. Three other passages lead from this room, dark mouths gaping in the stone. Which one might lead me back to Aubrey? Which might lead deeper, toward whatever heart this cave system possesses?
As I stand paralyzed by indecision, a sound echoes from the leftmost passage—so faint I might have imagined it. I hold my breath, straining to hear.
There it comes again.
A voice.
A woman’s voice, soft and melodic, singing what sounds like a lullaby.
The words are indistinct, lost in the cave’s natural distortion, but the tune is hauntingly familiar.
I’ve heard it before.
32
AUBREY
Darkness closes in around me like a living thing, heavy and oppressive, pressing against my skin. My flashlight beam seems weaker with each step, the batteries slowly dying, leaving me with a shrinking bubble of light as I navigate the winding passage.
My thoughts spiral between fear and determination as I move forward, each step taking me further from Jensen, further into the unknown. The rock wall that now separates us might as well be a continent. I’ve never felt so alone, so utterly isolated from everything familiar and safe.
“Keep it together,” I mutter to myself, the sound of my voice a small comfort in the pressing silence. “Keep moving. Find another way.”
The passage twists and narrows, forcing me to turn sideways at times to squeeze through tight spots. The rough stone scrapes against my jacket, catching on the fabric with an unpleasant sound that echoes in the confined space. I try not to think about the weight of the mountain above me, the tons of rock that could collapse at any moment, just as the ceiling had fallen between Jensen and me.
I try not to think about spiders. God, this place has to be crawling with them.
I check my gun for the third time in as many minutes, the familiar weight offering little reassurance against whatever might be waiting ahead. A couple rounds won’t do much against a cave full of hungry ones, but the routine movement of checking the magazine, confirming the safety, keeps my hands busy, my mind focused on something concrete. I can almost trick myself into thinking I’m back on the job. Lord, I wish I was about to bust into a crack house and search for a missing woman instead of this. Anything but this.