The Dark and Hollow Places - Carrie Ryan [124]
On my knees, I strike at the flint, my fingers shaking now with urgency. Each failed try is the Recruiters growing closer; every spark that dies, them gaining on me. They can’t be that far back, not anymore. The ground vibrates, traces of the pursuing footsteps thumping like summer rain.
With the lantern finally relit I notice that the tunnel is partially caved in ahead, boulders, rocks and twisted steel beams strewn every which way. I groan in frustration for a moment before I pull myself together. Almost madly I attack the debris, pulling at the smaller stones, wrenching free broken metal rods and digging as hard as I can, knowing that I’m losing time.
Steps volley behind me, any sense of distance lost to the echoes. Moans meld with the Recruiters’ voices calling for me, all lost in the growing thunder of noise.
Finally I’ve dug a narrow path and I shove the lantern through, crawling after it. It’s a tight squeeze in some places, and I have to wriggle, cringing as icy rocks grate over my ribs. At least this will hold back the dead, I reassure myself with each scratch.
Just as I make it through, I catch sight of movement chasing behind me at the edge of my lantern light. I kick at the hole I’ve created, shifting debris until it falls back in on itself, blocking my pursuers.
“Annah,” the man calls out, and it’s Ox. He stops on the other side of the web of broken beams, woven tightly enough to keep him from coming after me but loose enough that we’re standing almost face to face.
“Leave me alone,” I growl, picking up a rock and flinging it at him. He dodges but it hits the Recruiter behind him in the face, scratching his cheek. In the weak light of my lantern I can see there’s already blood dripping from the man’s mangled fingers.
I cough and choke on the frigid air, wondering if any of them got infected when they landed in the sea of dead that is what’s left of the Dark City. I step back once and then again, putting more distance between us.
Ox wraps a massive hand around one of the beams, his knuckles bruised and raw. “You don’t understand, Annah. We need you! The Sanctuary will fail without you and Catcher. They’ll all die.” He tugs at the metal, picking apart the debris, and I kick at the pile again, shifting the rocks to narrow the gaps he’s creating.
Behind them shapes flicker, deeper grays in the black darkness. The dead. My heart stutters and then races. I step back again, the light cast over the Recruiters growing weaker.
“You should have thought of that before,” I shout at him. The two other men start pulling at the boulders, and they’re so much stronger than I am that it won’t be long before they’ve dug a way through.
Not that they have much time before the Unconsecrated will overwhelm them.
I start running. “I know these tunnels,” I yell back at him, following the curve of the tracks as they meet with another set. I stumble over the metal rails but manage to catch myself. “You won’t find me!” It’s a lie but he doesn’t have to know.
My muscles have already cooled and they pull and strain as I run harder, gasping for air. I don’t care about the pain. I can live with that if I can get distance. I need to lose them.
I know the smartest thing would be for me to drop the lantern, that it must be easy for them to follow the light, but then I’d be blind. Every time I tripped they’d draw closer. Every time I had to hesitate over my footing, they’d gain on me.
Besides, I’m not that desperate. Yet.
I lose sense of everything in the almost-darkness: who I am, where I’ve been, how much time I’ve been down here. I just run: one step illuminated, then the next, and always the moans and Ox’s shouting behind, constant, grating.
I think about pressing myself into a crack in the wall and holding my machete tight, waiting for Ox to thunder past and then striking. I’d slice along the back of his leg first, nicking the tendons and hobbling him. Then I’d kick him onto his face and make the final blow against the back of his neck.
My own vicious thoughts make me shudder.