Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [137]
“Say something,” he screamed at the back of her head. “Plead with me. Pray.”
“Just do it,” Maggie finally said, quietly and with much effort, having to coax her voice, her lips, her bruised and cut throat to cooperate just for those three simple words.
“What?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“Just do it,” she managed to repeat, this time louder, more forceful.
“Maggie?” Nick’s voice sifted in from the top of the stairs.
The stranger spun around, startled and swinging Maggie along with him. As if watching from the corner, she saw her hand grab at the knife, snatching the stranger’s wrist. She twisted out from his hold just as he jerked his hand away and slashed at her, the metal disappearing into her jacket, ripping fabric and flesh on the way out. He shoved her hard, sending her into the dirt wall with a loud thump.
Nick’s stream of light came racing down the steps just as the black shadow grabbed the lantern and plunged into the hole. The wooden shelf teetered then crashed to the floor, almost hitting Nick.
“Maggie?” His light blinded her.
“In the tunnel.” She pointed while struggling to her knees. A flash of pain set her back down again. “Don’t let him get away.”
Nick disappeared into the hole, leaving her in total darkness. She didn’t need light to know she was bleeding. Her fingers easily found the sticky wound in her side. She dug deep in her pocket, pulled out the chain and medallion, rubbing her fingers over the smooth cross shape. In many ways the cool metal reminded her of the knife blade. Good and evil—was there really that fine a line between the two? Then she slipped the chain over her head and around her bleeding neck.
CHAPTER 87
Nick tried not to think. Especially now that the tunnel had started to curve and narrow, forcing him to crawl on his hands and knees. He could no longer see the masked shadow in front of him. The jerks of light from his flashlight revealed only more darkness ahead. Dirt and rock crumbled with every movement. Broken roots snaked out of the earth, sometimes dangling in front of him, sticking to his face like cobwebs. It was hard to breathe. The farther he went, the less air there was. What was left was stale and rancid, burning his lungs and adding to the ache already in his chest.
Fur brushed against his hand. He flung the flashlight, missing the rat and sending the batteries flying. The sudden darkness surprised him. Terror exploded inside him. Frantically, he groped for the flashlight, fistfuls of moldy dirt. One battery, two, finally three. Please let it work. He wasn’t sure he could even turn around in the narrow, twisted space. Couldn’t imagine backing all the way out.
He screwed the flashlight together. Nothing. He slapped it, tightened the clasp, slapped it again. Light, thank God. Only now he gasped for air. Had the darkness sucked out all the air?
He crawled faster. The tunnel narrowed even more, sending him to his stomach. He crawled using his elbows, propelling off his toes like a swimmer pushing against the current. He was an awful swimmer—a hot dog on the diving board, but lead in the water. And now he felt as if he was drowning, gulping for air and swallowing dirt from above.
How far had he come? How much farther could it possibly be? Other than the scratches of rat claws and the avalanche of dirt behind him, there was silence. Was he simply burying himself alive?
How could the shadow have disappeared so quickly? And if this was the killer, who had Nick seen disappear into the woods earlier?
This was nuts, absolutely crazy. He couldn’t make it, couldn’t breathe. Surely his lungs would explode any second. The dirt clung to him. Sandpaper scratched his eyes and throat. His mouth was dry with the taste of rot and death, gagging him. The walls narrowed still more, scraping against his body. He heard rips and tears—his clothing, sometimes his skin, catching on pieces of rock, wood, maybe even bones sticking out of the dirt walls.
How