She could have made the wrong choice.
The others were trusting her.
They don’t know me, she thought. If they knew, they’d pity her. Certainly wouldn’t befriend her. They’d distance themselves, like everyone else did.
Afraid of my own shadow, that’s me.
Except here she had no shadow.
A whisper of wind breathed in her face. She inhaled—it tastedcleaner, fresher. She crawled toward it. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. Her pack pulled against her shoulders, and she was glad she’d emptied so much of it.
She felt a hand touch her ankle and bit back a scream.
“Just me,” Mariana whispered.
Pebbles rattled, falling down the rock wall into the cave below.
“Also me.”
Claire listened for any sound that wasn’t the three of them. It was difficult to differentiate who made which sound. Was that scuffle Reyva or Mariana? Was it someone else?
If the killer was in the caves with them, why hadn’t he come with a flashlight or a phone light or anything? Was he feeling his way through the tunnel? How close was he? Had his light failed too? That seemed unlikely. Maybe the killer was so familiar with these caves that he didn’t need it. He could be following them by sound. She wanted to freeze, like a deer that’s been spotted.
Hunters shoot deer, she told herself, and kept crawling.
She inhaled, and this time there was a hint of pine beneath all the dirt and gravelly taste that coated her tongue. She thought she saw a differentiation in the degree of blackness above her, a darker rock against a lighter one. She climbed a little faster.
Reaching, her hand hit empty air. She felt around and touched the edges of a hole. A hole that led out? She definitely smelled the unmistakable tang of pine trees. She climbed toward it. Her hand landed on pebbles, and they shifted, tumbling down to the cave floor—a long way now. She froze. Behind her, she heard Reyva’s and Mariana’s breaths seize.
And then she heard something else.
A laugh.
Slight and breathy. A snicker. It sounded as if it came from everywhere, and then it faded.Just the wind, she told herself. It was a good thing, the sound. It meant they were close to an exit. She forced herself to breathe again and to keep climbing.
She saw a sliver of sunlight, a zigzag like a permanent lightning strike, above her.Sunlight!She climbed faster toward it, wishing she dared speak out loud to tell the others. She kept her eyes fixed on the light.
At last she saw it: the opening above her.
It was narrow, but she thought she could squeeze out. Wiggling out of her pack, she shoved it up and out, then she reached both arms through, braced herself on the other side, and then tried to lever herself up. She wiggled, hearing pebbles and dirt dislodged. Behind her, Mariana and Reyva cried out softly. “Sorry,” she said. “Almost there!”
Half out.
Leaning over, she clawed her fingers into the dirt. She pulled herself up. Hips. Then knees. Last, feet. She crawled out of the hole and then half tumbled and half slid until she splatted stomach-first on the soggy, flat ground.
The rain had stopped, thankfully, and everything smelled like wet earth. She rolled onto her back and squinted up at the blue sky between the branches of the trees. It was still daylight, though judging by the shadows, the sun was low in the sky. They were lucky it was early summer, with its late sunset and early sunrise. The wet leaves soaked into her back, and she knew sheshould move—they had limited time before it was too dark to travel—but she didn’t want to.
She breathed in. Fresh air! Closing her eyes, she breathed while listening to the others tossing their packs out, then climbing out then down to flop next to her.
They panted side by side, lying on the ground, in the silent woods.
Why was it so silent?
Opening her eyes, Claire sat up. She scanned the trees. Every second since they’d stepped foot off that boat, the forest had been thick with birdcalls: twittering, tweeting, cawing, crying, singing, in an overlapping cacophony that never stopped.
But now the birds were quiet.
“I think we should move,” Claire whispered.
