Third Grave Dead Ahead
Page 83
“Absolutely,” she said, slowly rising to her feet.
“Are you sure nothing’s hurt?”
“No, I just…” She looked at me a long time. “You saved my life.”
“No, I didn’t. Swear.” Now was not the time.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Your life flashing before your eyes? Was it a bit disappointing? Because when that happens to me—”
“No, you. The way you moved. Your dad was talking about it, but … I’ve just never seen it.”
She was all dazed and confused. “You need to lay off the sauce, hon. Flashlight?”
“Right. Flashlight, got it.”
She stumbled toward me, and I tried really hard not to giggle. Well, not very hard. I pointed in the opposite direction. She opened her phone and followed the tracks out, walking past a departed miner. My breath caught as I gazed at him. He first watched Cookie walk past, then looked back at me. The lamp on his helmet kept his face dark, but my best educated guess put his death in or around the 1930s.
He tipped his hat toward me as I stared at him. I’d never seen a departed miner before. Minor, yes. Miner, no. His ragged clothes were covered in dirt. Considering the area, they’d probably been mining for copper, or possibly even silver.
He walked toward me, stopped at my feet, and tried to look past me, to see what I was looking at. The departed were a curious lot.
“My name is Charley,” I said to him. He looked back at me, and since he was closer, I could just make out his face. He seemed to be in his late thirties, but mining was a hard life, so it was hard to tell for certain. He had crow’s-feet around his eyes the dirt didn’t quite make it into.
“Hardy.” The hard line of his mouth thinned. “She’s been in there awhile,” he said, his voice strong. He gestured beyond the barricade with a tilt of his head.
I nodded. “She’s been missing for several days. Do you know if she’s hurt? I’m sure she’s dehydrated.”
“I’ll check.” He walked through the mound of dirt I lay on and clearly had every intention of walking straight through me, but was brought up short.
The departed could walk through me when they crossed to the other side. Otherwise, I was solid flesh and bone, even to them. His knee bumped against my rib cage, and he glanced at me in surprise.
“Sorry,” I said, “you’ll have to go around.”
He studied me a long moment, then asked, “What are you?”
“I’m a grim reaper–type thing. But in a good way.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” He tipped his hat again and went around. In a matter of seconds, he drifted back through with his report. “Looks like she has a broken leg. She tried to splint it, but it looks bad.”
“Damn. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have gangrene by now.” I scanned the area for anything I might use to aid in my rather inadequate rescue attempt. His light helped, but the only thing available was dirt. And rocks. “Do you think I can make it through?” I asked him. “I need to get her out. I don’t know how long that ceiling is going to hold.”
“I think you better try, then, ma’am.” He glanced around the cave. “Maybe you could brace that beam against it?”
“I’d probably just knock more loose.”
“There is that.”
I started digging again. “How’s the other side look?”
“The ceiling is solid.” He disappeared and reappeared again. “The beams on that side are sturdy.”
Teresa was so weak. I could barely feel her now. Rocket said to hurry when he’d popped into Misery two days prior, and hurry I would. I scraped and dug until the opening was big enough for me to get through. With phone in hand, I crawled on my stomach over the jagged rocks. Dirt fell from the ceiling continuously, so my hair was pretty much a solid ball of muck.
Garrett would’ve come in handy about now. I shouldn’t have ditched him. Or tossed his phone into a pond.
As I scaled the mountain of debris, I reached down for Teresa’s hand. She moaned and tried to squeeze back.
“Hey, hon. I’ve got help coming, but we need to get you out of here if that is at all possible.”
She squinted against the light coming from the phone, but it allowed me to check her pupils. They constricted perfectly. She had the same coloring as her brother and sister, dark hair and startlingly blue eyes. She was thin and pale, but that could be the circumstances as much as heredity.
I pushed through the opening and climbed over the top of her to turn around. After sliding down the incline, Hardy appeared behind me and cast his light toward a backpack that had apparently been full of supplies, water, basic medical aids, as well as a caving helmet and spelunking gear. She’d splinted her leg with the aluminum brace from the backpack and a rope. Smart girl. Apparently, she’d been exploring when the ceiling gave.
Now I was really confused. Dr. Yost was guilty—I’d felt it—but of what? Sabotaging the mine? And if he did that, then what the heck was Teresa so guilty of?
“Have you thrown up, Teresa?”
She shook her head. “No concussion,” she said, her voice hoarse and whispery. She could barely lift her head. “Just a broken leg.”
I felt her skin. Warm, but not overly so. Hopefully, the flow of blood to her foot hadn’t been blocked and she didn’t have gangrene.
“I don’t know how much longer that ceiling is going to hold. Do you think you can make it through with my help?”
“Are you sure nothing’s hurt?”
“No, I just…” She looked at me a long time. “You saved my life.”
“No, I didn’t. Swear.” Now was not the time.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Your life flashing before your eyes? Was it a bit disappointing? Because when that happens to me—”
“No, you. The way you moved. Your dad was talking about it, but … I’ve just never seen it.”
She was all dazed and confused. “You need to lay off the sauce, hon. Flashlight?”
“Right. Flashlight, got it.”
She stumbled toward me, and I tried really hard not to giggle. Well, not very hard. I pointed in the opposite direction. She opened her phone and followed the tracks out, walking past a departed miner. My breath caught as I gazed at him. He first watched Cookie walk past, then looked back at me. The lamp on his helmet kept his face dark, but my best educated guess put his death in or around the 1930s.
He tipped his hat toward me as I stared at him. I’d never seen a departed miner before. Minor, yes. Miner, no. His ragged clothes were covered in dirt. Considering the area, they’d probably been mining for copper, or possibly even silver.
He walked toward me, stopped at my feet, and tried to look past me, to see what I was looking at. The departed were a curious lot.
“My name is Charley,” I said to him. He looked back at me, and since he was closer, I could just make out his face. He seemed to be in his late thirties, but mining was a hard life, so it was hard to tell for certain. He had crow’s-feet around his eyes the dirt didn’t quite make it into.
“Hardy.” The hard line of his mouth thinned. “She’s been in there awhile,” he said, his voice strong. He gestured beyond the barricade with a tilt of his head.
I nodded. “She’s been missing for several days. Do you know if she’s hurt? I’m sure she’s dehydrated.”
“I’ll check.” He walked through the mound of dirt I lay on and clearly had every intention of walking straight through me, but was brought up short.
The departed could walk through me when they crossed to the other side. Otherwise, I was solid flesh and bone, even to them. His knee bumped against my rib cage, and he glanced at me in surprise.
“Sorry,” I said, “you’ll have to go around.”
He studied me a long moment, then asked, “What are you?”
“I’m a grim reaper–type thing. But in a good way.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” He tipped his hat again and went around. In a matter of seconds, he drifted back through with his report. “Looks like she has a broken leg. She tried to splint it, but it looks bad.”
“Damn. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have gangrene by now.” I scanned the area for anything I might use to aid in my rather inadequate rescue attempt. His light helped, but the only thing available was dirt. And rocks. “Do you think I can make it through?” I asked him. “I need to get her out. I don’t know how long that ceiling is going to hold.”
“I think you better try, then, ma’am.” He glanced around the cave. “Maybe you could brace that beam against it?”
“I’d probably just knock more loose.”
“There is that.”
I started digging again. “How’s the other side look?”
“The ceiling is solid.” He disappeared and reappeared again. “The beams on that side are sturdy.”
Teresa was so weak. I could barely feel her now. Rocket said to hurry when he’d popped into Misery two days prior, and hurry I would. I scraped and dug until the opening was big enough for me to get through. With phone in hand, I crawled on my stomach over the jagged rocks. Dirt fell from the ceiling continuously, so my hair was pretty much a solid ball of muck.
Garrett would’ve come in handy about now. I shouldn’t have ditched him. Or tossed his phone into a pond.
As I scaled the mountain of debris, I reached down for Teresa’s hand. She moaned and tried to squeeze back.
“Hey, hon. I’ve got help coming, but we need to get you out of here if that is at all possible.”
She squinted against the light coming from the phone, but it allowed me to check her pupils. They constricted perfectly. She had the same coloring as her brother and sister, dark hair and startlingly blue eyes. She was thin and pale, but that could be the circumstances as much as heredity.
I pushed through the opening and climbed over the top of her to turn around. After sliding down the incline, Hardy appeared behind me and cast his light toward a backpack that had apparently been full of supplies, water, basic medical aids, as well as a caving helmet and spelunking gear. She’d splinted her leg with the aluminum brace from the backpack and a rope. Smart girl. Apparently, she’d been exploring when the ceiling gave.
Now I was really confused. Dr. Yost was guilty—I’d felt it—but of what? Sabotaging the mine? And if he did that, then what the heck was Teresa so guilty of?
“Have you thrown up, Teresa?”
She shook her head. “No concussion,” she said, her voice hoarse and whispery. She could barely lift her head. “Just a broken leg.”
I felt her skin. Warm, but not overly so. Hopefully, the flow of blood to her foot hadn’t been blocked and she didn’t have gangrene.
“I don’t know how much longer that ceiling is going to hold. Do you think you can make it through with my help?”
