Chapter Thirty-Three - HIM
One heartbeat.
Everyone stared.
He glared back.
Eyes darting.
Mouth open.
Trembling.
“Lizzy!” Mama in my head again.
I’d already grabbed Billy’s good arm.
Oralee’s hand.
“Run! Into the tunnel!”
We bolted.
Oralee’s steps—hesitant, but moving.
Billy stumbling, breath sharp.
Another heartbeat.
Five rifles.
A shotgun.
A handgun.
All raised.
“I should have shot him earlier.”
Mama’s growl burned inside us.
Too dark to run.
I stopped at my ledge.
Snatched candles.
Matches.
Water.
No gunfire.
Only shouting.
Daddy’s roar—louder than I’d ever heard.
Then the kidnapper’s word.
One word.
“Bear!”
A roar answered.
Animal.
Deep.
Gunfire cracked.
Echoes slammed stone.
Rang in my skull.
Silence.
Only cave sounds—
drips falling,
bats scurrying,
boots thudding hollow.
Oralee and Bobby pressed close.
Breath quick.
Hands tight.
We pushed deeper.
The cave stank—
damp earth,
old smoke,
animal musk.
Air thick.
Every breath sour.
Every drip a clock tick.
Mama’s voice gone.
Cut off.
What did it mean?
Then—her scream in my head.
“Lizzy! He’s in the tunnel! He slipped past us! Run!”
Her voice cracked the silence.
Sharp.
Urgent.
I couldn’t hear him yet.
But I knew I would.
He never gave up.
Then it came.
Echoing.
Scraping.
Dragging his bad leg.
Closer.
Closer.
The cave scraped at us—
drips like knives,
whispers curling stone.
We pressed into an alcove.
Cold bit my skin.
I rubbed my arms.
Shivered.
Billy’s breath tore ragged.
He clutched his ribs.
“Feels like the cave’s crushing me.
Smells rotten. Dead things.”
The cavern pulsed—
water ticking,
echoes stretching,
shadows twitching.
Air sour.
Every inhale scraped my throat raw.
Every drip hammered time closer to him.
“I see his light.”
Oralee’s whisper rolled.
“His light?” Bobby gasped.
“Everyone glows.
You don’t notice unless you know how.”
I stared at her.
“I thought you were blind. Mama said you learned another way.”
“She’s right.
It’s simple.
Anyone could.”
A rock skittered.
Clawed across stone.
Slashed down the tunnel.
He’d found us.
“How does he track?” I muttered.
“Is that how?”
Oralee’s eyes caught candle flame.
“No. He’s listening.
Every sound ricochets.
Sharp ears.
He’s hunting noise.”
Billy’s chest heaved.
“I’ll try walking silent like a deer.”
But the tunnel betrayed us.
Every scrape echoed.
Every stumble screamed.
Walls pressed in.
Breath too loud.
Heartbeat pounding drums.
Oralee’s voice cut low.
“If we find a branch, we choose fast.
Or vanish.”
Lost.
The word stabbed.
I’d only thought of escape.
Not the maze.
Mama surged in my head.
“Lizzy. Keep left on your way in.
Keep right coming back out.”
She’d heard us.
Just as we heard her.
Oralee nodded.
“That’s best.”
Then his grunting.
Closer.
Swearing ricocheted.
“We move. Or we’re caught.”
Billy reached for the canteen.
His wet cast scraped slime.
He flinched.
Dropped it.
Metal clattered.
Rolled.
Echoed straight toward him.
“Oh no!” Billy’s voice rang louder than the canteen.
We froze.
Silence.
No dragging.
No swearing.
Then—
I seized Oralee’s hand.
Billy’s wrist.
Pulled hard.
We stumbled forward.
Feet smashing rocks.
Shoulders slamming walls.
The candle sputtered.
Died.
Dark swallowed us whole.
We fumbled.
Struck a match.
Flame hissed alive.
Then—his voice.
Muffled.
Rattling stone.
Around corners.
Closer.
Furious.
Mad enough to tear the cave down.
We burst out—
into a cavern wide as a cathedral.
A wide opening to the sky
hovered nearly thirty feet above.
Weak stars winked through the dark.
A black pool spread.
Silent.
Bottomless.
Air stank of rot and stagnant water.
On the right, a ledge clung to the wall.
Slim.
Slick.
Barely wide enough for a foot.
It ended short.
“Stay close!” I hissed.
My hand locked Billy’s sleeve.
Oralee clawed slime.
Bobby’s breath rattled.
We edged forward.
Boots slipping.
Shoulders scraping.
One slip meant the pool.
No way back.
Billy shivered.
“I can’t… too narrow.”
“Hold the wall. Don’t look down.”
The cavern swallowed sound.
Drips echoed footsteps.
Water lapped stone.
Every move louder than a scream.
Halfway across—
my nails dug wall.
Slime smeared palms.
Knees shook.
Candle jittered.
Shadows leapt across water.
Then—
a low opening.
Almost hidden.
We crouched.
Stooped.
Slipped inside.
Stone scraped backs.
Dark swallowed us.
Behind—
boots pounded.
The kidnapper stormed in.
His voice exploded.
Swearing.
Cursing.
Echoes rattled walls.
We froze.
Held breath.
Listened.
He stopped at the edge.
Spat into the pool.
Splash echoed like a gunshot.
He cursed again.
Louder.
Angrier.
He couldn’t swim.
The pool cut him off.
The ledge mocked him.
His rage bounced through the cavern.
But he couldn’t follow.
For now—
we were gone.