Oh God, please, I’m so close, please, help.
She had less than a hundred feet to go, but they might as well have been miles. Above, the stars were dimming, winking out in a sudden swarm of cold shadows darker than night. The earth began to collapse and fold, the surface shearing; the rock was coming down, and then so were the shadows, and she felt the ladder shudder and begin to break apart; it was breaking, it was breaking, it was— The ladder disintegrated to splinters, and then there was suddenly nothing in her hands at all but air. Beneath her, the tunnel’s throat opened. The water was all sound; it was everything that was left. Her mouth was open, and she knew she was shrieking, but she couldn’t hear anything, and for a crazy second, it was as if the water’s roar had become her voice.
Screaming, Alex hurtled straight down, and her last thought, right before she hit, was: Feet first.
She smashed into the water.
Part 6 - The Devil's Door
89
Sometimes, he moaned. That was her only clue he was still alive.
She sat with him all that night. Maybe she should’ve gone for help, but she was too afraid to move. She called his name a few times. At least, she thought she did. For a few terrible seconds, she couldn’t remember his name—or hers—and that scared her more.
And then, much later, he stopped making any sound at all.
She waited. And waited. The darkness went grainy and gray as that gangrenous moon slid west and the night began to fade. In the spray of weird light, the wood shone a dullish white. She saw that it wasn’t part of a door because of that arch drawn in black paint and the half-symbol of three spiked points just above, like a setting sun cut by a distant horizon. There was a name for this, too. What was it? She couldn’t quite remember. But why not?
She waited, sleepless, raw-eyed. Cold. She hunched up her shoulders, hugging herself to stay warm. Her fear was salt and metal in her mouth. And she was hungry. The snake of her stomach twisted and writhed. So hungry. The need had been building for a while. She had decided not to think about it. Now, as dawn showed in a white streak, she couldn’t ignore it.
Morning soon. Full day. She couldn’t stay here.
But . . . he had a scent. He is—she drew him in and her mouth watered—food.
Don’t.
Yes.
Don’t.
Stop.
She crept, slowly, carefully, on all fours. The wind burned her cheeks. The air was suddenly choked with the smell of iron and meat. He was far down in the snow, and she used her hands to dig at the edges of the trench. The hollow was surprisingly warm, and his smell was so rich her stomach cramped.
Stop. You’re still you. Don’t.
His face was turned away, his watch cap rucked up a little cockeyed, like a makeshift shroud. That made it easier. At his waist, where the wood cut across, she made out an irregular, dark patch. She formed her hands into a scoop and lifted out a scarlet chunk of ice and sucked his blood, still warm, into her mouth.
Don’t.
Warm. Yes.
“Stop,” she said, and then she flung the gory handful away. Her gorge rushed up her throat, and she heaved and vomited, but she hadn’t eaten in two full days, and there was nothing left.
Almost nothing left of her either.
“N-no,” she said. She tottered to her feet and stumbled back, away from the blood and temptation, away from his meat, that scent, his smell. “No. Stop. Run. He said to ru—”
Run. Then: Lena, I’m Lena. He’s Chris and he said to run, Lena, run.
The cold air was crushed glass in her throat, but she blundered on, churning and crashing through the woods. She had no idea where she was going, or what she should do now, but she was alone. No one would see.
I’m a coward. If I had any guts, I would’ve shot myself or told him the truth and asked him to do it. He would have.
But she was as afraid of dying as she had become of sleeping. Because what would she be when she woke up?
You’re still you. She spotted a bright smear, a break in the trees, and felt a tug in her chest, like the set of a hook. She changed direction. Why? Maybe a road. Was that what she thought? Of course she did. Who was thinking in her head but her? Her feet pounded and pushed against snow. There would be a road and she would be able to run even further. You’re still you and you can stop this.