Sixty to eighty feet. That’s how deep some of the catacombs run. A possible eight stories of stone between me and the fresh night air.
I have no idea what time it is, not with my phone still upstairs in my purse. When André and I made a mad dash from the salon, I left my clutch sitting on the table. Inside, my phone and its charged battery. With a clock. And a flashlight.
I peer up at the light in the tunnel, shedding weak illumination the color of watery mustard.
Maybe I can find my way back. I know which tunnel we last exited, and we only took three turns to get here. Or was it four?
As I stare down the dim shaft, a terrible thought occurs to me.
What if Luci and André got caught?
Have they been taken somewhere by the monsters of the game? Are they back upstairs in the mansion? Have they forgotten about me?
No. Of course not. I rub my chest and take a breath.
Stay calm. Don’t panic. One breath in.
And back out.
Hand still on my chest, I focus on the rise and fall as I breathe. No one’s forgotten me. I just have to stay put. Wait here like Luci?—
A scream echoes through the tunnels, and my skin tightens on my scalp. Who was that?
Easing out of the small recess, I take a few steps back the way we came, listening, straining to hear voices.
Low rumbles carry to my ears. Maybe a man’s voice? I wait to hear more, but the passage falls quiet again.
I debate whether to keep creeping forward or stay where I am. I don’t know what happens when a victim is caught, but it can’t be worse than being down here.
My mind is muddled, and I can’t think straight. The cold underground sobered me up, but the effects of apple brandy remain, clouding my thoughts like cotton in my head.
“Luci? André?” My voice is a dull echo.
I walk forward, stopping only when I come to a branch in the passageway. We came from the left. I’mpositivewe did.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I cry out louder this time, hoping someone—anyone—will call back.
At this point, I don’t care if I’m caught. Iwantto be caught. Especially if that’s a one-way ticket back up to the house and other people.Livingpeople.
Keeping my distance from the wall of bones, I study the curve of the tunnel. A brass plaque hangs up ahead. I remember passing it earlier.
Confident I’m headed back to the elevator, I rush down the tunnel to the next junction. It’s a three-way split, the one where Luci paused to think about where she was going.
But staring into each of the shafts, I can’t tell which one to take. This area feels colder, damper, the foul scent of dust and mildew giving me a headache.
“Hello?”
I listen, but my own voice is all I hear.
Panic builds in my chest again, a tightening of my lungs that spreads to my throat. I swallow and press a hand to my heart.
I can’t get lost down here. These tunnels go on for miles.
Fighting the urge to run blindly, I trail my fingers along the wall and try to think what to do. Maintaining contact with the stone, I travel to the next area where the route diverges and take the first tunnel to the right.
I come upon a design made out of long bones, a circle of skulls creating a pattern in the middle. None of this feels familiar. I would remember this. Wouldn’t I?
The longer I’m down here, the less certain I am of anything.
