Maybe we don’t add onto the worry stackright now,okay,Kit?
Cullen took her hand. “We have to go. Tot’s started on the second cracker I handed over and I need her to be relatively still while I’m on the ladder.”
She nodded and followed him to the tunnel hatch. Totremained mercifully quiet, graham cracker jammed in her mouth, snuggled against Cullen’s back. She was probably comforted by the warmth of his body in addition to her sweet treat.
“Do me a favor, Kit?” Cullen pointed. “Wrap the sledgehammer in one of our shirts to cushion it and drop it down, would you? Soil at the bottom is soft. We’ll pray it doesn’t break.”
“But we’ve got so much to carry already, why ...” Her question died away. “Oh. Because the tunnel is likely bolted shut on the other end too.”
He nodded.
Unless they could wrench loose the barrier on the distant end, they’d be stuck in the dank passage, worse off than they were at the present moment. Her throat was suddenly constricted as she wrapped the sledgehammer and dropped it into the abyss. Again, she held the flashlight while he gingerly turned around and started down the first few rungs.
“When I get to the bottom, I’ll get clear and yell. You can lower the gear. If you get stuck or need help, whistle and I’ll hustle up the ladder again to assist.”
She huffed. “I’m fine on a ladder, Cullen.”
“No question, but the rungs are rusty and there may or may not be an angry squirrel on the premises.”
It was the smile she needed.Bring it on,squirrel.“I’m not scared of rodents.”
“Okay. Just saying.”
Soon a halo of darkness wrapped around them both as he descended. Tot’s half-moon cheek caught the meager flashlight beam, smudges of graham cracker streaking her mouth. So small, so impossibly young, strapped ontoCullen as they sank farther and farther into the gloom. Kit’s heart squeezed as she considered the list of things that could happen.
Cullen could fall.
Their makeshift baby carrier might come unknotted.
The rungs could give way or Cullen could step down onto an angry animal.
Breathe.
Teeth gritted, she watched until the crown of his baseball cap was all she could see. One, two, three seconds more and it was all inky blackness.
After he’d been swallowed up, she pressed herself to the ground, ear to the edge, and listened to his movements growing fainter, the scuff of his boots against the aged metal. Her fingers ached, and she realized she was gripping the flashlight way too hard. With a deep breath, she relaxed as much as possible, her ears straining for Cullen’s signal.
When her neck and shoulders began to cramp, she crouched instead. Through the fractured mill wall, she sought the horizon, a black zigzag against a lighter charcoal wash. No more flickers of light. The daytime was finished, and they’d survived it.
Anyone out there?
She wasn’t sure if it was more comforting to think the answer was yes or no.
A rustling sound floated up to her. “I’ve hit bottom. Give me one minute.” From far below came the tiniest glow. Cullen had turned on the small lantern. Not much help, but a comforting target for her, which was probably his intent. “Baby’s out of the way. Lower down the gear.”
She tied the rope to the bags, hitched it around a sturdycolumn of bricks and lowered the backpacks one after another using the plan they’d discussed. They couldn’t risk dropping the gear and having the precious water bottles explode.
“Okay. Cargo received. Head on down, Kit.”
His tone was cheerful, as if he were inviting her to stop in for a movie or coffee. To keep her mind off her perilous descent, she figured. How would that be, to spend time with Cullen in a nice, civilized environment where they weren’t fleeing an erupting volcano and human traffickers? Would she still feel such a magnetic attraction to him? A week ago, she wouldn’t have so much as entertained the notion. The truck, her business, was her sole focus, and relationships would only be a distraction. Now, she could not ignore the appeal. She liked Cullen. A lot.
Her knee knocked against a bent steel rung.You’d like anyone who was helping you survive,wouldn’tyou?
She wasn’t convinced. There was something about Cullen—his mixture of goofy and gallant, silly and serious, his honest struggles with his faith and his foibles—that whispered to her heart.
The rungs grew damp in her grip. Even the air around her felt heavy with moisture, as if the walls themselves were weeping. A rhythm, that was what she needed, one that left no room for thinking. Foot, hand, foot, hand. Repeat. The small light Cullen had activated appeared impossibly far away, though she had to be getting close.
The metal groaned and creaked. The aged rails she clutched as she descended felt sturdy enough. Probably just noise.
