SHE WAS AWARE of pain first. Darkness second. Andâdirt. She was lying somewhere, with her face in the dirt. There was some in her mouth and she tried to spit it out, her throat so dry that she couldn't. She was too dizzy and sick to lift her head, and everything else hurt so much that she let her eyes close again. She wasn't ready to deal with this yet.
The next time she woke up, it wasn't as dark. She lay there for a long time, not trying to move. After a while, she turned her head, lifting it just enough to see where she was. Light. Not muchâcoming in through boards or something. The air smelled mildewed, but there was also a draft. A cold one. Jesus Christ, was she in a
cave
?
Okay, okay, it wouldn't make sense to freak out. Yet. The first thing to do, was to try and turn over. See what was going on. Assess the situation calmly. For all she knew, she was just in a different
room,
not in a whole newâa room with a dirt floor? But, maybe they'd just stashed her outside whatever building she had been in before, and that wasn't as scary asâexcept, wait,
that
would be pretty god-damn scary, too.
Okay, she needed to get up, and figure out what was going on. Using both hands, she tried to push herself to a sitting position, her arms weak and trembly. There was a heavy cuff of some kind on her right wrist and she pulled experimentally, discovering that it was attached to a chain. A
short
chain. Jesus Christ.
She didn't seem to be strong enough to sit up, but she managed, groaning, to turn over onto her back. She stayed there, exhausted by the tiny achievement, letting her eyesâone of which wouldn't openâget more accustomed to the darkness.
Oh, God, she hurt.
Everything
hurt. Pain she didn't remember from before. Something must have happened toâoh, Christ, was she
alone
? Or was he sitting there, watching her? All of them, watching her. Orâit was so dark.
But, she didn't see anyone. In fact, she didn't see
anything.
Just a tunnel or something. She reached out, tentatively, to feel the wall with her left hand. Rock. Cold, dry, fairly smooth rock. Which establishedâwhat, exactly? If she was in a tunnel carved out of rockâwell, that sounded a hell of a lot like a cave. She could be near the end, or it could go back for milesâit was too dark to tell.
She made herself listen for a few seconds, still trying to figure out if she was by herself. Wind. What might be a bird. Maybe some creaking, over where the light was. Sunlight? Maybe. Daylight, anyway.
Okay, okay, it was time to find out how badly injured she wasâstarting with her legs. She flexed each foot, cautiously; moved her ankles, bent her right knee. Small, dull pains; some old, mostly new. Bruises, probablyâno reason to panic. Her left knee felt as bad as it had before, and she didn't try moving it.
One hip hurt a lot, the other one was just stiff. It was her ribs, where the serious new pain started, the slightest breath or movement causing twinges sharp enough to make her gasp. Vaguely, she could remember being punchedârepeatedly, by a very large manâbefore the other man jabbed the syringe into her. Had they kept hitting her
after
she went unconscious? Had they tried anything
else
while she wasâno. She couldn't feel anything to indicate that they had done somethingâawfulâand the drawstringâshe checked, and double-checkedâto her sweatpants was still tightly knotted.
She tried moving her head. Her neck. Her arms. Just bruises. And stiffness from lying in cold dirt for God only knew how many hours. Either she had been battered around during the transfer to this placeâshe could smell and feel a smear of motor oil across her
clothesâor they had intentionally hurt her, tried to beat her to death, maybe.
Jesus.
She touched the cuff on her wrist, then followed the chain with her fingers to a metal stake driven deep into the rock wall. She yanked on it, neither findingânor expectingâany weak points. Christ. Her working eye was starting to be able to see better, and she looked around, seeing man-made, but very rough, rock walls, and a thick wooden beam here and there, supporting the ceiling. Was this place a
mine shaft
, maybe? It obviously went further backâand down?âbut, she couldn't tell
how
far.
Only a little bit of light was coming in through the boards, and she realized that it wasn't a door. No, someone had put them across the entrance, andâapparentlyâ
nailed
her inside. Nailed her in with dirt, and rocks, andânothing else. No food. No water. No blanket.
No water. She swallowed, her mouth and throat so dry that it was difficult. No water. He and the others might be out there somewhereâbut, she doubted it. He'd left her here, nailed in, chained, without any water.
Left her here.
Panicking, she yanked on the chain with both hands, trying to pull free. It wouldn't budge, but she had to try, struggling with it until she was out of breath and crying, and too weak from pain to continue. She collapsed into the dirt, trying not to pant because it made her ribs hurt so much.
Help. She should call for help. So, she turned her head towards the light.
“Hey!” she said, her voice rasping out. “In here!”
Talking made her throat feel as if it were rupturing and she tried to swallow again, not able to come up with much saliva.
“Hey, help!” she shouted. “In here!”
There was no answer. No sound at all, except for maybe the damned wind.
She felt in the dirt until she found a rock, and then threw it at the boards to try and break them. It fell harmlessly inside, about ten feet away, and she threw another, with the same result. For the hell of it, she threw one towards the back of the cave, hearing it go at least twenty feet. So, she threw a whole handful of small rocks, listening as they hit dirt, other rocks, and maybe some more boards. No comforting splash to indicate that there was a pool of water, or something, back there.
No water.
No god-damn water. The inside of her mouth tasted terribleâblood and dirt, mostlyâand she swallowed yet again, the muscles in her throat noisy in protest. Damn it, she had to
think
. Maybe she could
dig
for water. Maybeâshe fumbled around until she found a fairly sharp rock, and began using it to scratch a hole in the dirt, her fingers cramping with the effort. She would dig as long as she could stay awakeâwhich wasn't going to be longâand then, when she woke up, maybe water would have seeped into the bottom of the hole, and she could drink it.
Yeah, chalk up another one for Nature Girl.
The ground was hard and rocky, but she was so relieved to be
doing
something that she kept digging. One inch. Another. The dirt felt very cold. Damp? Maybe. But, definitely cold.
Energy ebbing, she dug another half inch, then was too exhausted to continue and let the rock drop out of her hand. She tried leaning her head against the wall, but it was too uncomfortable, so she curled up in the dirt, trying to find the least painful position, using her right arm as a pillow.
Too tired and afraid to think, she closed her eyes.
Â
“MEG, ARE YOU all right?” she heard someone saying.
A nice voice. She was safe! The whole thing had been aâshe smiled, opening her eyesâexcept, she couldn't see anything. Oh,
God, she was blind. She raised her hand in front of her face, trying to see it. She
was
blind! She couldn'tâ
“Where are you?” she asked, her voice barely working. “I can't see you!” She didn't hear anything. She didn't
see
anything. “Talk to me! Where are you?”
As she tried to sit up, she heard the chain clankâand both the relief, and fear, went away, as she realized where she was. That there was no one there. Unless he
was
in here, unless he was trying toâ
“Where are you?” she asked, trying to look in every single direction at once. “Are you in here? Are you trying to scare me?”
Trying?
Yeah, right. Succeeding, and
then
some. Except, she didn't hear anyone. She didn't hear anything at
all.
The wind again, maybe.
She rubbed her hand across her face, feeling dirt, and a thick crust below her nose and lips that could only be dried blood. Her nose was stuffed upâalso with blood?âand she was having to breathe through her mouth, which was even drier than it had been before. She licked her lips, feeling more than one crack. Oh, boy. This was getting more and more serious with everyâthe hole! She felt for the hole in the darknessâso black that she couldn't see her hand movingâbut, finally found it.
An empty hole. A
dry
hole.
Serious, serious trouble. And her mind just felt numb. Blank.
Stupid.
She eased herself back against the wall, gripping her ribs with her free arm, and focusing in the direction of the boards. The only thing she could think of to do was wait for morning.
Â
DAYLIGHT ONLY MADE things seem worse. More hopeless. All she knew for sure was that she couldn't just sit here and wait for something to happen. She had to
do
something. To think of a way out of this place.
The only possible solution was to break the chain, somehow.
How, being the operative word. She didn't have much energy, so she had to choose. She could chip away at the stake, and the rock wall, trying to loosen it, or she could choose a weakest link, hammering on it until the chain broke. She pulled on the stake, then pulled on the chain. The chain. It wasn't as thick. She felt for a rock, then pounded at the place where the chain and stake met. Double her odds, that way.
Hammer, hammer, hammer, rest. Hammer some more. And some more. As many times as not, she would miss, scraping her knuckles against the rock wall. When her left hand hurt too much to continue, she switched to her right, hammering and hammering, not sure if ten minutesâor ten hoursâwere passing.
Her sweatshirt was damp, and her arms were so heavy that it felt as if her strength was draining out, along with the perspiration. But, she kept hitting the chain, trying not to perspire, to lose liquid. Each time she lifted her arm, she wasn't sure if she could do it again, but she kept going, on the theory that it was keeping her sane. Oh, yeah, terribly. Although there was nothing in there to vomit, her stomach was upset and she wished she could swallow more easily. More often.
Hammer. Hammer. Hammer again. What time was it? What
day
was it? It had been darkâtwice? More times? She'd slept so much that it was hard to tell.
Her hair seemed like a great weight, and she pushed it off her neck and shoulders. It felt disgustingâdirty and sticky, hanging in damp clumps. Talk about gross.
“I'm going to get out of here,” she said, needing to hear a voice. Even a voice that pathetic and hoarse. “I swear to God I'm going to get out.” Which seemed kind of melodramatic. “I'll
never
go hungry
again
,” she said, being Scarlett O'Hara. She laughed weakly. Might as well make jokes. Nothing else to do.
Her hands were numb from hitting the wall by accident so many times, and she dropped the rock, giving up for a while. She should
probably sleep. If she was going to have to die, she'd prefer to have it happen as soon as possible. Survival was too god-damn tiring.
Maybe she was cracking up. Then again, the last few days had been pretty roughâshe was entitled.
“Miss Powers, I'm sorry,” she said. “You're going to have to be put to sleep.”
Sleep. Good idea. She fell forward into the dirt, with barely enough energy to turn her face out of it. She wanted to cry, but couldn't get any tears out. Jesus, she must be
really
dehydrated. If she was longing for death, maybe she was getting her wish.
She should sit up. Go out fighting. Try and
make
herself keep going, no matter how awful she felt.
“âYou've got to have heart,'” she sang, and laughed. Could she possibly be getting a littleâ
punchy
? Just
maybe?
With more effort than it was probably worth, she managed to sit up, but then couldn't figure out what to do next. She puzzled over that for a minute, then decided to finish the song. It couldn't
hurt.
Other than her throat. Which already hurt, so what the hell.
Singing the song cheered her up, so she went into “I Whistle a Happy Tune” from
The King and I
. “Tomorrow,” from
Annie,
was probably a little obviousâbut, hey. She sang it with enthusiasm. With gusto, even.
Andrea McArdle's reputation was safe.
Before going on, she suddenly imagined some poor hiker going by, hearing a squeaky little croaking of “
Tomorrow
Ӊand being absolutely terrified by the sound. Then, she thought of Bill Murray in
Ghostbusters
saying, “What a
lovely
singing voice you must have,” and laughed again.