tore through her right side. The cramp locked barbed hooks under her rib and made every step a newfound riot of torture.
She jumped, climbed, sidled, and jogged until she thought she was caught in a nightmare, an endless stream of rocky, slimy, treacherous, rubble-strewn road. It was all she could do to focus on putting one foot in front of the other until he finally stopped.
Her numbed fingers fell from his stolen jacket. Juliet sank to her knees and bent over nearly double, gasping for air. The ends of her damp hair clung to her lashes, her face, and she wheezed as she scraped it back with shaking, sweaty fingers.
“Never,” she panted, “again . . . Ever. Would rather . . . die.”
Caleb said nothing.
The light skated over piles of fallen, decomposing timber and jagged edges of rusted metal. A fetid smell punctuated the air, like things left too long in the rain and musty air. Flesh and bone; wood and decay.
Dragging the sleeve of her jacket over her forehead, she staggered to her feet as Caleb braced himself against a moldering wall. He was flushed, at least. Sweaty and as breathless as she was.
Small favors.
“Where are we?” she finally asked when she could manage it.
He hesitated, swinging the flashlight back the way they’d come. “Somewhere near the trench.”
“How can you tell?”
“Listen. You can just barely hear the water.”
Juliet stared at him. At his outline, just a glimmer behind the light. True to his word, the faintest whisper hovered just out of auditory reach; a trace of sound that felt like pressure. Like depth and motion and— “Oh. Oh, Jesus. That means we’re . . . We’re going to die.”
“Relax.”
“Don’t you tell me—!” Juliet caught herself, clipping off hysteria before the world around her got any more sharp and shiny at the edges. “Being lost this far into the ruins is as good as a death sentence,” she said tightly, fingers curling into aching fists. “You know this.”
After the fault had opened up under the city, the Old Sea-Trench had eaten away at the abandoned carcass long after the aftershocks stopped. The place was a death trap then. Fifty years later, it was suicide. Pitfalls, loose ledges, nature’s own booby traps had claimed more than one explorer over the years.
Every so often, the occasional tremor still rumbled through the fault. Sometimes, more shifted, fell over, or crumbled. The trench bottom was a rushing river of glacier-fed water, and she didn’t want to be just another body washed down the fault line.
“Relax,” he repeated. “We’re not dead yet.”
Exhaustion knocked on her skull. She dragged her hands through her hair. “Okay,” she said after a deep breath. Much, much calmer. She could do this. “How do we get back?”
“Not sure.”
“What can we do?”
“I’m working on it.” He straightened as she closed the distance, his expression shadowed and wary. Forcing her brain to override her feet, Juliet spun before she could do whatever it was her body had intended. Slap him. Push him.
Throw herself at him and beg to be comforted.
He didn’t touch her. God help him if he tried. Anger warred with fatigue and left her feeling that the dark glittered hungrily around her, like some kind of starving crevasse.
“Fine,” she managed. There. Civil.
He clicked off the light. “Sit. Rest. We’ll set off again soon.”
“I don’t want to rest,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as the thick web of shadow threatened to smother her. Her voice tightened. “I want to get back to civilization.”
“Rest anyway. If you collapse—”
“If I collapse,” she cut in, aware that she was talking through her teeth, that she was being unreasonable and whiny and so beyond caring, “you’ll have one less worry, won’t you?”
Silence met her accusation, flung with wild, angry precision. She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him, damn it, she couldn’t see him.
And in the suffocating dark, Juliet felt
She jumped, climbed, sidled, and jogged until she thought she was caught in a nightmare, an endless stream of rocky, slimy, treacherous, rubble-strewn road. It was all she could do to focus on putting one foot in front of the other until he finally stopped.
Her numbed fingers fell from his stolen jacket. Juliet sank to her knees and bent over nearly double, gasping for air. The ends of her damp hair clung to her lashes, her face, and she wheezed as she scraped it back with shaking, sweaty fingers.
“Never,” she panted, “again . . . Ever. Would rather . . . die.”
Caleb said nothing.
The light skated over piles of fallen, decomposing timber and jagged edges of rusted metal. A fetid smell punctuated the air, like things left too long in the rain and musty air. Flesh and bone; wood and decay.
Dragging the sleeve of her jacket over her forehead, she staggered to her feet as Caleb braced himself against a moldering wall. He was flushed, at least. Sweaty and as breathless as she was.
Small favors.
“Where are we?” she finally asked when she could manage it.
He hesitated, swinging the flashlight back the way they’d come. “Somewhere near the trench.”
“How can you tell?”
“Listen. You can just barely hear the water.”
Juliet stared at him. At his outline, just a glimmer behind the light. True to his word, the faintest whisper hovered just out of auditory reach; a trace of sound that felt like pressure. Like depth and motion and— “Oh. Oh, Jesus. That means we’re . . . We’re going to die.”
“Relax.”
“Don’t you tell me—!” Juliet caught herself, clipping off hysteria before the world around her got any more sharp and shiny at the edges. “Being lost this far into the ruins is as good as a death sentence,” she said tightly, fingers curling into aching fists. “You know this.”
After the fault had opened up under the city, the Old Sea-Trench had eaten away at the abandoned carcass long after the aftershocks stopped. The place was a death trap then. Fifty years later, it was suicide. Pitfalls, loose ledges, nature’s own booby traps had claimed more than one explorer over the years.
Every so often, the occasional tremor still rumbled through the fault. Sometimes, more shifted, fell over, or crumbled. The trench bottom was a rushing river of glacier-fed water, and she didn’t want to be just another body washed down the fault line.
“Relax,” he repeated. “We’re not dead yet.”
Exhaustion knocked on her skull. She dragged her hands through her hair. “Okay,” she said after a deep breath. Much, much calmer. She could do this. “How do we get back?”
“Not sure.”
“What can we do?”
“I’m working on it.” He straightened as she closed the distance, his expression shadowed and wary. Forcing her brain to override her feet, Juliet spun before she could do whatever it was her body had intended. Slap him. Push him.
Throw herself at him and beg to be comforted.
He didn’t touch her. God help him if he tried. Anger warred with fatigue and left her feeling that the dark glittered hungrily around her, like some kind of starving crevasse.
“Fine,” she managed. There. Civil.
He clicked off the light. “Sit. Rest. We’ll set off again soon.”
“I don’t want to rest,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as the thick web of shadow threatened to smother her. Her voice tightened. “I want to get back to civilization.”
“Rest anyway. If you collapse—”
“If I collapse,” she cut in, aware that she was talking through her teeth, that she was being unreasonable and whiny and so beyond caring, “you’ll have one less worry, won’t you?”
Silence met her accusation, flung with wild, angry precision. She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him, damn it, she couldn’t see him.
And in the suffocating dark, Juliet felt
Similar Books
