I had absolutely no idea where I was under Blackwell Falls, and I had to fight a rising tide of panic that I’d be left wandering down here forever.
On the plus side, I’d managed to evade the voices I’d heard in the tunnels, and I stopped running to catch my breath, scanning the sides of the tunnel for more water, nothing but the sound of my footsteps on the dirt floor and the distant, ever-present drip of water.
I wasn’t cold anymore, but I was pretty sure I stunk. My damp clothes stuck to my skin and I was starting to fantasize about stripping, just to have the cloying fabric of my T-shirt and jeans off my body.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was lost and sticky, I wouldn’t have minded being in the tunnels. The truth was, I was used to being alone, something that probably would have surprised anyone who knew me. After all, I had Daisy and Sarai, and Bram, when he was around.
The coffee shop had a steady stream of regulars and tourists, people who made small talk about the weather or the conditionof the trails in the Blackwell Preserve or the best place to get pizza in town.
But at the heart of it, where it counted, I was alone.
Daisy had the baby and her Beasts. Sarai had her online exploits. I only had my apartment above the coffee shop.
I didn’t even have a cat.
I froze as a loud thunk sounded from somewhere deep in the tunnels, then turned my attention to a buzzing sound in the ceiling.
At first I didn’t see anything, but then a grate started to glow red.
I’d noticed the grates spaced out every few feet overhead, but I’d assumed they had something to do with ventilation. Now I realized they were something else.
Heating elements.
I breathed a sigh of relief as warmth spread over my damp clothes. The sprinklers had been mean but at least the organizers of the Hunt were making it up to us by giving us heat.
Probably so they weren’t held liable for our deaths by hypothermia, but still.
Except after a couple more minutes of walking I realized something: it was hot.
Like… really, really hot.
Sweat dripped down my back and between my tits, plastering my clothes to my skin all over again, this time with sweat, which was right about the time I realized the heat lamps weren’t a gesture of kindness but another circle of hell.
“Assholes,” I muttered.
I stripped off my T-shirt and stuffed one end of it in the pocket of my jeans. The tunnels were another world, one far removed from the coffee shop and my normal life filled with norms and routines.
I was way past feeling weird about running around in my bra.
I had to force myself to keep walking, past the purple lights and the piles of junk, past one blessed stack of water bottles (I guzzled two of them, tucked one in my pocket, and carried another). I had the urge to flatten myself against the stone wall of the tunnel, let the coolness of the stone seep into my body.
And then, just when I thought I couldn’t be any more screwed, I heard footsteps behind me.
I looked over my shoulder, prepared to run, and realized it was Julia, the brunette who’d helped me at the start of the Hunt.
She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just me.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. She was in her bra too, T-shirt in one hand, sweatshirt tied around her waist. Sweat dripped from her temples and down her neck and chest.
“You’re still on the loose,” she said, catching up to me.
I nodded. “I heard voices earlier but I managed to move away from them.”
“Good for you,” she said. “It can be hard down here. Sound bounces around in weird ways off these walls.”
“I noticed that.” The voices I’d heard had seemed to come from one direction, then another, until I hadn’t entirely trusted my judgement. I’d forced myself to keep running and hoped for the best.
“Can you believe these fuckers?” She mopped at her forehead with her T-shirt. “Bunch of fucking sadists.”
