Trapped (19 page)

“We have your s
isters,” one of the plumbers says quietly, his low voice barely reaching us. “And we have our orders. Either you come down to our truck, or we’ll put bullets through their heads. We don’t care.”

“And we’re not waiting. If you’re not there before that damn drill breaks through, they’re dead.”

The men turn and walk slowly back the way they came, keeping up their stream of whispered threats. They still can’t find us, but now…now they don’t have to.

I push Chris away from me,
struggling against his arms as I try to slide down from my perch on the beams.

“Wait,” he breathes, still watching the workmen, waiting for the last one to drop back down to the tunnel before he
says anything else.

“Emily, you can’t just go down there. They’ll kill you—“

“They’ll kill my sisters! I have to get down there. I can’t let them—“

“We won’t,” he says, stopping me from climbing down again. “Listen…I’ll go down there. I’ll talk to them. I’ll tell them that you’ll never say anything, if they’ll just let you and your sisters leave.”

“And you…”

“They’re not going to let us both out of here. But if I can talk to them, they might just let you—“

“I couldn’t live with that,” I whisper. “Chris, y-you can’t go…”

“It’s our only option, Champ,” he says, his eyes shutting briefly. “Just stay up here, like we planned. I’ll get close to the entrance to the tunnel. I’ll drop down, just before the drill breaks through. They’ll have to take the bargain.”

“No…n-no, Chris, you can’t—“

“It’s all I can do.”

Sliding away from me, he swings one leg over the beam, climbing down to the one below it. Frantic, my arms reach for him, clasping his hands before he can go any further.

“You can’t do this, Chris.”

His startling blue eyes seem to glow in the darkness. “I’m going to. Just…just stay up here, Emily. Stay up here for me.”

My eyes cloud
with tears as his hands slide out from mine. He climbs down, careful not to make any noises, not to give away my hiding place.

His feet touch the ground silently, but I can hear him
grunt as he puts weight on his injured leg. He walks toward the middle of the tunnel, limping from the pain. His silhouette is outlined by the light filtering through from below, his muscular frame seeming impossibly vulnerable.

Tears
run down my cheeks, and I struggle to keep my vision from blurring completely. He’s doing the only thing he can, to protect me and my sisters.

He’s sacrificing himself.

A sob escapes me, and he stops briefly, turning around. I can’t take it. Scrambling downward, I climb recklessly, my hands and feet barely touching the beams as I work my way to the ground. He’s there, waiting for me at the bottom, when I drop down the last couple of feet.

“Emily,” he
says, crushing me against him. Our lips meet in a kiss, his lips devouring mine completely. I open my mouth and he groans, arms wrapping completely around my waist. My hands clasp at his chest, his shoulders, his neck as I fight to stop time completely, to keep him here, where it’s safe. Our tongues clash, his breath breathing fire in my veins. I kiss him with all my heart, my pulse pounding against what I know is coming. When he lets go, when he steps away—

“Emily, I have to go now,” he breathes, his voice cracking.

“You can’t, Chris. I can’t take it—“

“Climb back up. Just stay there, no matter what.”

“Please—“

“For me,
Champ.”

He pulls away from me, backing up a few feet before turning. He walks steadily toward the entrance to the
tunnel, his right leg dragging slightly, and never turns around.

I brace my hand against the wall, my breath coming in heavy, broken gasps.
My stomach twists as he bends down at the hole, listening quietly to what’s happening below. The high pitch of the drill has grown louder, the sounds echoing across the tunnel. The whole ventilation system is vibrating with the faint pressure. It won’t be long now.

Chris kneels there for a while, watching, waiting. And then, more quickly than I could have imagined, he drops lightly down, disappearing from sight.

“No.” I sprint forward, my feet racing across the metal floor until I come to a stop at the entrance. I can see the plumbers’ truck, see the girls sitting on the ground behind the cargo area. Out of view of the adults, I realize.

I can’t see Chris.
Nor any of the plumbers. No one – except the frightened faces of my two sisters, sitting quietly away from everyone else in the tunnel.

I move around the hole, trying to get a better view, and my hand touches something warm and wet. I lift my fingers, my
heart racing as I study the dark liquid. 

It’s Chris’s blood.
A lot of it.

I look down to the tunnel agai
n, my eyes tracing the white-gray of the concrete bench. I can see a smattering of dark red dots, and a trail leading off the bench around to the back of the truck where the girls are…and then disappearing.

Straining my
ears I listen for voices, gunshots, the sounds of fighting. But I can’t hear anything over the shrill sounds of the tunnel bore. I watch silently for a few more moments, but I know I can’t just sit there and wait for Chris to be killed. I gauge the distance from here to the ground, plotting my landing for the safest, flattest spot on the bench. Swinging my legs over the edge, I slide my body down slowly, dangling by my fingertips before I finally drop down, landing roughly in a low crouch.

The girls’ faces light up immediately, but I place a finger over my lips, pleading for their silence. They seem to
instinctively understand the danger of our situation. Or maybe it’s the fear on my face. Either way, their smiles fade, and they turn quickly to look at the other side of the truck.

My eyes dart toward the eastern side of the tunnel. The noise is much louder down here, and I wonder if it’s just my imagination…or are some of the boulders down there
moving
?

Behind me, I know, are all of the adults,
safely tucked in the two cars. When the rescue team breaks through and turns the drill off, they’ll come running. But until then, I’m on my own.

I
run over to the side of the plumbing truck, bending down to get out of view. I haven’t seen any of the plumbers, but I can hear voices now. A few are coming from the cargo part of the truck – the back door is closed, I realize, to keep the rest of the children from seeing what’s happening. But there are voices on the other side of the truck.

I drop down to my stomach and slide
under the cargo area, my hair catching on some of the gears. I pull my braid tighter, ripping out the strands heedlessly as I move further across the pavement.

“…
only thing she wanted, from the beginning, was to get out of here alive. You guys can leave her alone. She won’t say anything.”

“Man, we all read the note. She wrote it. You two were just waiting to get out of here to spill it—“

“
I
told her to write it. It’s all on me. You’re not going to find her, so you might as well just cut your losses. Let her go.”

“We won’t. We can’t. We have to make sure
nobody ever finds out—“

“She’ll never say anything!
You know she won’t – not with her sisters at risk! Besides, how will you explain it? The rescue team is practically here, people will get suspicious—“

“
Ain’t our concern,” I hear Henry say, his booted feet shifting excitedly. “We’ll get rid of everyone down here, and nobody’ll ever—“

“Please…Doug, Bob, Terry…you guys know it’s better to leave them alive. Talk to Phil, when he gets back. Make him understand.”

“It won’t matter. He’s bringing Rosings. The Governor’s making all the calls now.”

The group falls into silence, and
I search through the booted feet. Three men in gray coveralls, one guy in khakis, and Chris, standing furthest away, with a puddle of dark, wet blood by his right foot. He’s sagging back against the metal railing, struggling to stand up. I can’t tell if the plumbers notice, but I don’t think he can make it much longer. The puddle has grown so rapidly…there’s no telling how much blood he’s lost.

My chest tightens.
I want to go to him, but I can’t do anything. Two against four would be bad odds any day, but with Chris this drained—

“
Ahh. So you’ve found them at last.”

The clipped words make
the plumbers shift nervously. I crawl closer to the edge of the truck, trying for a better view.

“Err, just one of them,
Governor,” Phil says, stepping into the circle. I can see the Governor’s black, polished loafers as he taps one foot silently.

“And the girl?”

“He’s not saying where she is.”

“He doesn’t really have a choice, now does he?”

There’s silence for a moment as another man steps forward, navy slacks walking swiftly to where Chris is standing. I can’t see what he does, but Chris lets out a painful moan and collapses back against the railing, the metal rattling under his weight.

My eyes widen, and I
breathe in sharply. One of the girls whimpers, echoing my own fear, and I turn quickly toward the back of the truck. Suzanne’s eyes are wide and tear-filled, and she’s clasping Michelle in a tight hug. Michelle shifts her gaze slowly from Chris to me, fear etched in her raised eyebrows. I need to act. Moving slowly, I slide back from the edge of the truck and motion for them to come. They slide forward, crawling noiselessly under the back end of the cargo area. I usher them toward the front to hide between the two giant tires. “Stay here. Don’t make a sound,” I breathe into each of their ears.

Scraping my hands and knees on the pavement, I crawl quickly back under
the cargo area. I’m just in time to see the navy slacks move again. To hear Chris let out a low moan.

“Bernard is very good at his job,” the
Governor says, his voice cold. “Very…effective.”

“Just tell us where she is, Chris,” Phil says. “It’s time to end this.”

“Oh, he’ll talk,” says the Governor. There’s a long pause. Some of the plumbers shift their feet, mumbling to Chris and to each other. But Chris stays silent.

The moment drags, and then the plumbers fall silent.
The Governor’s black loafer starts tapping again.

“Bernard, if you please—“

A muffled sound comes from the cargo hold, distracting everyone for a moment. Above me I can hear a few boxes moving around, and the sound of childish giggles.

“They, umm, must have found some of our food,”
Phil says slowly, taking a step toward the rear of the truck. I watch his feet as he edges closer and closer to the corner, where the latch to the rear is waiting.

And where the girls should be.

My chest tightens as his feet shuffle further to the rear. He should be able to see where the girls had been sitting – where they
should
be now. But he’s not looking yet.

“We hid it, like you said,
” Phil says to the Governor. “They won’t find it. But they might get into the storage and—“

“Leave them. It hardly matters.”

Phil’s feet stop, turning to face the Governor again, and I let out a slow breath. If he had noticed the girls are missing, he wouldn’t hesitate to alert the rest of the plumbers. And we’re so close, they would find us almost immediately.

And, as Phil put it…they would
end this
.

“If they’re looking around in there, I
should go grab the detonat—“

“I already took it.”

There’s silence around the circle. This seems like news to the plumbers.

“
Now, boy,” the Governor says, taking a few steps forward. “You talked easily enough to me before. Tell me now – where is the girl?”

“Just…just let her go,” Chris says, gasping for breath. “She’ll never say anything. All she wants is to get out of here alive.”

“Tell me where she is, and then we’ll see.”

“N-no.”

Bernard steps forward again, and this time I can hear a soft crack. The girls are silent, but I have to put my hand over my own mouth to keep from crying out. Chris’s body is thrust back into the railing, his hands gripping the poles tightly. I watch his muscles clench as he tries to stand up away from it, but Bernard comes at him again.

“Now?” asks the
Governor.

Chris grinds out some words, none of them acquiescent. We hear another crack, louder this time, and Chris slumps to the ground.

His chest is pumping, his breath coming in sharp wheezes. His arms are rubbing the tender flesh of his ribs, eyes rolling back in his head from the pain.

“Now?”

“…you.” Chris mumbles, his lips barely moving.

“What was that?”