Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Darkness swallows me completely as the underground river pulls me deeper into the mountain’s heart, Aubrey and Lainey somewhere ahead in the blackness, the hungry ones left behind—for now.
But in these caves, I’m learning that nothing stays behind for long. And not all dangers come from obvious enemies. As the water carries me through the darkness, I wonder which poses the greater threat—Adam and his pack of hungry ones, or Lainey herself, caught between humanity and hunger, able to help us or harm us with no warning of which it might be.
Either way, we’re committed now.
The current gives us no choice but forward, into whatever waits ahead.
34
AUBREY
The current pulls me through absolute darkness, my body tumbling helplessly in the frigid water. I can’t tell which way is up or down, can only surrender to the rushing torrent that carries me deep into the dark. My lungs burn with the need for air, fingers numb from cold, the water’s roar drowning out everything but my own thundering heartbeat.
Just when I think I can’t hold my breath any longer, my head breaks the surface. I gasp desperately, pulling sweet air into my starving lungs, arms flailing for any purchase in the black. The current remains relentless, sweeping me forward through what feels like a narrow channel, the rough stone walls occasionally scraping against my shoulders.
“Aubrey!” Lainey’s voice echoes somewhere ahead, barely audible over the rushing water. “Keep afloat! There’s light ahead!”
I strain to see through the darkness, focusing on the direction of her voice. There—a faint grayish glow, so dim I might have imagined it. I kick toward it, fighting to keep my head above water, body numb with cold.
The channel widens slightly, the current easing its grip enough that I can swim with more purpose. The glow grows stronger—moonlight filtering through some opening ahead. Lainey’s silhouette appears against it, her transformed eyes reflecting light like an animal’s in the darkness.
“Almost there,” she encourages, standing in shallower water near what appears to be the exit. “Just a few more yards.”
I push forward, muscles screaming with exhaustion, until my feet finally touch solid ground. I stagger upright, water streaming from my clothes, shivering violently in the cave’s chilled, damp air.
“Jensen?” I gasp, looking back into the darkness behind me. “Where’s Jensen?”
“Here,” his voice calls from somewhere in the blackness. Then he emerges from the water like some primordial creature, coughing and sputtering, his large frame moving with surprising grace despite obvious exhaustion.
I reach for him instinctively, helping him to his feet as he finds the shallows. His hand closes around mine, solid and reassuring despite everything.
“You okay?” he asks, voice rough from swallowing water.
“Still breathing,” I manage through chattering teeth. “You?”
“Been better,” he admits, pushing soaked hair from his face.
Lainey stands a few feet away, watching our exchange with an unreadable expression. Unlike us, she seems barely affected by the frigid water—no shivering, no labored breathing. Another reminder of how much she’s changed.
And yet it’s still her.
“We need to keep moving,” she says, gesturing toward the opening ahead. “The hungry ones won’t follow through the water passage, but they’ll find another way around. They always do.”
She leads us toward the exit, a narrow fissure in the rock face that opens to the night beyond. We squeeze through one by one, emerging onto a snow-covered slope bathed in moonlight.
The cold hits with renewed force outside the cave’s relative shelter, the wind cutting through my soaked clothes like knives. I stamp my feet and rub my arms, trying to restore circulation, knowing hypothermia is a real danger now and there’s no sleeping bag for Jensen and I to crawl into.
Jensen orients himself quickly, surveying our surroundings with practiced eyes. “I know where we are,” he says after a moment, surprise evident in his voice. “We’ve almost made a complete loop. The trapper’s cabin is, I don’t know, maybe less than a mile that way.” He points downslope, toward the forest.
“Can we make it?” I ask, teeth chattering uncontrollably now. “Before we freeze?”
“We have to try,” Jensen says grimly. “It’s shelter, and there might still be supplies. Fire. There is still furniture to burn, and kerosene.”
Lainey nods in agreement, though something flickers across her transformed features—a brief spasm of pain quickly suppressed. “Then the cabin is our best option,” she says, her voice slightly strained now. “But we need to hurry.”
We set off through the snow, our wet clothes immediately beginning to stiffen with ice in the bitter cold. I walk between Jensen and Lainey, all of us moving as quickly as our exhausted bodies allow. The forest is eerily silent around us, the only sounds our labored breathing and the crunch of snow beneath our boots.
After about ten minutes of painful progress, Lainey suddenly stops, a visible shudder running through her frame.
“Lainey?” I ask, stepping toward her in concern. “What’s wrong?”