Believe: The Complete Channie Series (195 page)

Jonathan
found Richard, and everyone else, crowded around the entrance to the mine. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and tapped Rich on the shoulder. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

Instead of taking a swing at him, Richard tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. “Your brother went inside the mine. We’ve been yelling at him for like, ten minutes, but he won’t come out.”

“Well, quit yelling. You’re going to trigger a cave in.” Most of the timbers and support beams inside the mine were over a hundred and fifty years old.

Franklin knew better than to go inside the mine. Never mind the fact that Jonathan went in there all the time to access his stash of pot and beer. He knew what he was doing and never went so far in that he lost sight of the entrance. He prayed Frankie was just screwing with him. Trying to get back at him for kissing Heather.

He frowned at Rich. “You’re sure he went inside? This isn’t just some prank?”

There were too many solemn faces and wide-eyed stares for it to be a prank.

Rich shook his head. “It’s no joke.”

“Has anyone called 911, yet?”

Naomi extricated herself from Rich’s arms. “You have to find him, Franklin. What if he’s hurt?”

A premonition of disaster gnawed at Jonathan’s gut, but he couldn’t just sit and wait for help to arrive while Frankie was in danger. The longer he was inside the mine, the more likely something bad would happen; if it hadn’t already.

“Any of you guys have a flashlight? Or a rope?” Jonathan had both in the Rover, but all he had on him was the penlight attached to his keyring.

“I got a lighter.”

Jonathan didn’t even try to guess which moron came up with that bright idea. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his keys. The tiny beam from the penlight flickered and shimmied across the rubble and splintered beams that blocked the tunnel. When he aimed it between the cracks, the oily darkness inside the mine swallowed the light before it touched the ground.

“Here, take this.” Someone handed him an LED flashlight and a climbing rope. Jonathan muttered a quick “thanks,” and turned his back on the crowd. He focused his breath to calm himself and crawled over the pile of rubble. A broken beam scraped his back and left behind a swath of splinters. He really wished that girl hadn’t thrown up on Franklin’s parka. The deeper he went, the colder he got.

Five minutes later, he rounded a bend and found Franklin sitting on the ground, knees bent, with his head on his forearms.

He sighed, but didn’t look up. “Go to hell, Jonathan.”

“I’m sure I will, but I’d rather it not be tonight. Come on, let’s get outta here.

“You can have anyone you want, why’d you have to go after Heather?”

“I didn’t—”

Franklin’s head jerked up. “I saw you kiss her.”

“No, Franklin. You did
not
see me kiss Heather.
She
kissed
me
but only because she thought
I was you!”

“It should have been me.” Franklin dropped his head back onto his forearms.

“Shoulda, coulda, woulda. You’re such an idiot! You could be kissing her right now. But you’ll never get to kiss anyone if we die in here. You know it’s not safe this far back in the tunnels.”

Jonathan reached out towards Franklin. His left arm was still extended when the support beam collapsed.

Hot
, searing pain shot up Jonathan’s arm from his left hand into his armpit. The agony lifted his mind out of the trance just enough for him to remember that none of this was real. But it sure felt real. Worse than real. He’d broken his hand in the mine, not severed it.

The creaks and groans of settling debris pulled Jonathan back into the mine. His heart raced. He had to get Franklin out of the mine before another beam gave way.

“Frankie?” A quiet moan sifted through the pile of rubble. At least he was alive. “Frankie, are you okay?”

“No.”

Jonathan gritted his teeth to keep from screaming and clawed at the beam that held him pinned to the ground. It wouldn’t budge, but in his scrabbling, his hand brushed against the flashlight. He turned it on and discovered a narrow rift between the beam and pile of rubble. He shone the light through the gap and found Franklin lying on the ground. The same beam that pinned Jonathan’s left hand had splintered and driven a piece of wood through Franklin’s torso, impaling him.

No. This isn’t right. Franklin’s only injury in the mine had been a mild concussion. He died in Afghanistan. This isn’t real.
But the nightmare didn’t stop.

“It hurts Jon-Jon.” Franklin’s head lurched forward as he struggled to free himself. “Get me outta here!”

“Stop it Franklin! You’re making it worse. Hold still.”

Why is this so much worse than what really happened?
Blood oozed around the three-inch diameter wound in Franklin’s belly, soaking his shirt. “You’re okay, Frankie. This isn’t real. This isn’t how you die.”

Franklin tried again to lift his body off the pike then fell back with a groan. His hand went limp, but his chest rose and fell in rapid shallow pants.

“Hang on Frankie, I’m coming. I’ll get you out.”

A sinister creak reverberated overhead. The beam that had impaled Franklin and trapped Jonathan shifted. Franklin screamed.

Stop this. Please, someone make it stop.

Jonathan and Franklin’s chances of getting out alive were decreasing with every second. The constant moans of shifting debris and Franklin’s pleas for help gave Jonathan the courage he needed. He ignored the agony of his broken ribs, curled up into a ball, positioned his feet against the beam on either side of his trapped hand, and exploded backwards.

Jonathan hadn’t expected his hand to separate so easily. He sat on his butt and stared at his arm. He tied off the bleeding stump with his belt as best he could. He was wasting time fretting over his stupid arm. He clawed at the rocks with his right hand and begged God to save them both.

God didn’t answer.

An ominous sound, like a runaway freight train echoed through the tunnels.

“Oh, no. No, no, no … please God, no.” Jonathan doubled his efforts to dig through the rubble. He even used the bloody stump of his left arm, but he’d never get Franklin out before the mine flooded.

“Don’t leave me, Jon-Jon. I don’t want to die alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Frankie. I promise. Live or die, we’re in this together.”

The ground shook as the roar of rushing water grew louder. Jonathan squeezed through the gap and wrapped his arms around Franklin. He lifted him off the splintered beam and held him against his chest. “I’ve got you Frankie. It’s okay.”

A wall of icy water slammed into Jonathan’s back, ripping Franklin from his arms. Jonathan screamed, but the churning river of debris swallowed the sound. His lungs burned, starving for air. Instinct took over. The first lung-full caused his body to convulse, expelling the life-stealing water. His diaphragm rebelled and forced more dirty water into his lungs. Through it all, Jonathan never stopped screaming Franklin’s name.

“
Jonathan
. Wake up.”

Jonathan barely heard the voice. His ears and sinuses still throbbed with each desperate beat of his heart. His lungs were still full of water. He couldn’t breathe.

“Snap out of it!”

Jonathan’s body jerked like it sometimes did right before falling asleep. He gasped and choked as more water found its way down his trachea. But this time, the water tasted like a swimming pool instead of brine. And it was mixed with patchouli scented air. His eyelids fluttered open. Blue’s face hovered over his.

“What the hell?”

“I’m sorry about throwing water in your face, but you refused to come out of trance and I have another client in ten minutes.”

“What the hell did you do to me?”

Blue patted his knee. “I didn’t do a thing except guide you into a level six stage of profound somnambulism. The rest was all you.”

Yeah, right. Jonathan wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as possible, but his body refused to cooperate. He was still flying higher than a freaking a kite.

Blue glanced at her notes then back at Jonathan. “You seemed to be experiencing an amalgamation of two separate traumatic events. Can you elaborate on what happened?”

“Yeah. I was drugged without consent then mind fucked.”

Blue’s eyebrows twitched, but that was her only reaction to Jonathan’s accusation.

He hoped he’d be able to sort out his memories. He’d been a little more claustrophobic after he and Franklin were rescued from the mine, but now … just the thought of going into a mine made him dizzy. He hoped it was just an after effect of the drugs.

Blue poured a cup of what smelled like coffee into a mug and handed it Jonathan.

He shook his head. “No thanks.”

She had the nerve to actually roll her eyes. “It’s just coffee. The caffeine will help you shake off any lingering effects of the trance.”

Jonathan climbed out of the recliner and headed for the front door. A middle-aged woman was sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through a new-age magazine. She looked up when Jonathan walked by.

He nodded towards the beaded curtains. “Whatever you do, don’t drink the tea.”

Books by Charlotte Abel

The Sanctuary Series

River’s Recruit

River’s Remorse

River’s Revenge

Gabriel’s Gift

Down the Rabbit Hole
(Supplemental Novella)

The Channie Series

Enchantment

Taken

Finding Valor

The Gathering
(Supplemental Novella)

Love Hurts
(Valentine Novella)

The Rocky Mountain Romance Series

Naked Edge

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