Zero Game - Brad Meltzer [92]
Oh, no—don’t tell me it’s—
A high-pitched buzz erupts above my forehead. I immediately look up—but it doesn’t take long to realize the sound’s coming from my helmet. In front of me, the yellow glow from my light takes on an almost gold color. Before, I could see at least fifty feet in front of me. Now it’s down to thirty. I pull the helmet off my head and stare into the mine light. It pulses slightly, its color fading. I don’t believe it. My hands start shaking, the light quivers back and forth, and I stare down at the battery pack on my tool belt. Viv was right about the charging station . . . The problem is, as the light on my helmet hums once more and fades to a brown, it’s becoming increasingly clear I picked the wrong side.
Spinning around as quickly as I can, I tell myself not to panic—but I can already feel the tightening in my chest. My breathing rises and falls at lightspeed, trying to compensate. I look up . . . down . . . side to side . . . The world’s starting to shrink. Along the walls and floor, the shadows creep in closer. I can barely see back to the red wagon in the distance. If I don’t get out of here fast . . .
Darting forward, I sprint full speed back the way I came, but the thousands of rocks underfoot make it even harder to run than I thought. My ankles bend and turn with every step, fighting for traction. As the walls of the tunnel blur by, the helmet light jerks wildly in front of me, struggling to slice through the darkness like a dying flashlight through a cloud of black smoke. Worst of all, my breathing’s at full gallop. I’m not sure if it’s the depth of the mine or just plain fear, but within a minute, I’m completely winded. I’ve run marathons. This can’t be . . .
A sharp burst of air leaves my lips, sending dust twirling through my still-fading light. I breathe in . . . then exhale just as fast. I can’t slow it down. I’m already feeling light-headed. No, don’t pass out. Stay calm, I beg myself. I don’t have a chance. I glance down at the oxygen detector, but before I can get a look, my foot clips a rock, and my ankle twists out from under me. Falling forward, I drop the detector and put out my hands to break my fall. With a crash, I skid across the ground, getting a fresh mouthful of dirt and a sting in my left wrist. I can still move it. Just a sprain. My mine light fades to amber, and I lose another eight feet of visual distance. Scrambling to my feet, I don’t even bother to stop for the detector. If I don’t get out of here now . . . Don’t even think about it.
Picking up speed, I focus on the white gym membership card that’s dead ahead. Those bread crumbs are my only way out. My light shrinks to a fading candle. I can barely see twenty feet. At this rate, I don’t think I’ve got another thirty seconds.
Locked on the gym card, I have to squint to see. There’s no time to take it slow—I’ve still got ten feet before I reach the archway it marks. If I can get through there, I can at least get one last look at the other bread crumbs so I know where to turn. The candle flickers, and it takes everything I have to ignore the burning pain in my chest. Almost there . . .
To make it easier, I hold my breath, my eyes glued to the archway. Don’t let it go. Don’t lose it. As the light shrivels, I lean forward. I’m still not there—and as my hand reaches out for the opening in front of me, the entire cave and everything in it goes completely . . . and utterly . . . black.
43
WELCOME TO TWO QUAIL,” the maître d’ said as he cupped his hands together.