Page 206 of Silent Shadows

My pulse jumps.

Adrenaline sharp and immediate.

The sound comes again.

Movement. A scrape.

Then, more silence.

I angle the flashlight toward a narrow opening in the rock, bracing for a jump scare. But it’s nothing.

Static crackles softly from the radio.

“You guys stopped moving,” Maya practically whispers like she’s in here with us.

“Thought we heard something,” I radio back.

Something shifts farther inside.

Louder now.

A sudden flutter. Daisy gasps and clutches me hard enough to nearly climb inside my rib cage.

A blur erupts overhead, and wings flutter.

Bats. Very angry bats.

Daisy presses one hand flat to my chest.

“Oh my God.”

I laugh before I can stop myself. Relieved.

“You okay?”

She exhales, then laughs softly with me. “I will be—just need to catch my breath first.”

Her breathing returns to normal. She looks around again—she’s still on edge. So am I. But there’s something else too. Something oddly grounding. The absurd intimacy of standing terrified inside a cave with someone whose heartbeat you know.

We move deeper. Fifteen minutes. Twenty. A few more narrow chambers where I’m taking my backpack off to pull it through. Tracks that turn out to be erosion. Strange sounds explained by shifting rock and wind pushing through cracks.

Hope rises. Falls. Rises again. Every silent shadow feels possible until it doesn’t.

Every silence feels charged until logic catches up.

Eventually the cave opens into a final chamber no bigger than a garage.

Illuminated by our flashlights, it’s clear it’s a dead end.

No tracks. No movement. No impossible thing breathing in the dark.

Daisy exhales first, long and slow.

“Well,” I say, my voice feeling too loud in this muted space, “this sucks.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I see the sadness she’s feeling for me. “I’m sorry, Miles.”

I laugh quietly, because the disappointment isn’t as intense as I would’ve expected.