She wasn't. She'd never be ready. But the voices were closer now.
"Okay," she lied.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the darkness swallowed them whole.
Sarah had thought she understood darkness. Late nights in her apartment with the lights off. The basement storage room at the Bureau. But this—this was different. This was darkness so complete it felt solid, pressing against her eyes, filling her lungs. She couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed.
Her phone's flashlight beam seemed pathetic against it, illuminating maybe three feet ahead before being absorbed by the black. The walls were rough-hewn rock, sweating moisture that made everything slick. The ceiling was so low Griff had to duck, and even at her height, Sarah could feel itpressing down, tons of mountain above them waiting to collapse.
"I can't breathe." Her voice came out high, panicked.
"You're breathing fine. Keep moving."
She wasn't breathing fine. The stale air was thick with dust and decay. Her throat tightened. The tunnel branched ahead into three passages, each one leading deeper into the mountain's belly.
Griff froze. “Give me a sec.”
Sarah forced herself to focus through the panic. There—the faintest movement of air against her face. "Left. There's airflow from the left."
“Nice work, Desk.”
They moved deeper, following the ghost of a breeze. Their footsteps echoed strangely, sometimes close, sometimes seeming to come from far away. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness—constant, maddening. Sarah kept her hand on Griff's back, terrified that if she lost contact, the darkness would swallow her forever.
Time lost meaning. Had they been walking for minutes? Hours? The tunnel opened into a larger cavern, and Griff's light revealed multiple shafts branching off in different directions. He set down their bags and checked his watch.
"Should be any second now," he murmured.
"What should?—"
An explosion echoed from somewhere above them, the sound massive in the confined space. Sarah screamed, dropping to her knees, hands over her ears. Rock dust rained down. The mountain groaned around them.
Then, distant but unmistakable gunfire. Lots of it.
"It's okay." Griff's hand was on her shoulder. "They're shooting at the decoys I set up. The flares create movement and heat signatures. They think we went that way."
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "You planned that? Before we even came in here?"
"Had to give them something to chase." He helped her to her feet. "Come on. While they're distracted."
They followed the rail tracks deeper into the mountain. Sarah's phone battery was dying, the light flickering. The darkness pressed closer with each flicker, threatening to consume them.
When they finally—finally—emerged into the night air, Sarah collapsed immediately. Her legs simply stopped working. She sat in the dirt, gulping in the clean mountain air, her whole body shaking with exhaustion and residual terror.
The stars had never looked so beautiful. The moon had never seemed so bright. She wanted to cry with relief at the simple fact of being able to see more than three feet ahead.
"We need to keep moving," Griff said gently.
"I know." But she couldn't make herself stand. "Just... give me a second."
He crouched beside her, and for the first time since this nightmare started, his expression softened. "You did good in there."
"I had a complete panic attack."
"But you kept moving. That's what matters."
Sarah looked at him—really looked at him. His face was streaked with dirt, his clothes torn from the rocks. He'd risked his life for her, a complete stranger.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked.
