It was the sound of footsteps pinging off the mine walls.
“It’s the police,” Quarry said. “They’re here. Probably a whole damn army.”
Daryl looked stonily at his father. “So what you wanta do now?”
“I wanta fight. Take as many of them with us as we can.”
“Then I’ll go get us something to fight with.”
Daryl handed Willa off to Quarry. Right before his son hustled off down a side shaft, Quarry grabbed his arm and said, “Bring the switch.”
Daryl smiled maliciously. “We gonna take’em down, Daddy.”
“Just bring it. But give it to me.”
“You still giving the orders, huh? We ain’t never getting out of here alive. Gonna be like old Kurt. Nothing but bones.”
“What is he talking about?” cried Willa.
“Just go!” Quarry snapped at his son.
“I’ll go, all right. And then I’ll be back. But my way, old man. Just this one time. This one last time. My way.”
“Daryl—”
But his son had already vanished into the dark.
More footsteps headed their way.
“Who’s there?” roared Quarry. “I got hostages!”
“Mr. Sam,” cried out a voice.
“Gabriel!” said a stunned Quarry.
Michelle had not been quick enough to stop Gabriel from yelling out to Quarry. Now she put a hand over his mouth and shook her head.
“Gabriel!” yelled Quarry. “What you doing up here?” Silence. “Who’s you with?”
Quarry knew there was no way the boy could have gotten up here on his own. They had him. They had escaped the little house. Tippi was dead. And they had Gabriel. And now they thought they had Sam Quarry. Well, they had thought wrong. His rage swelled. All those
years. All that work. For nothing.
“Who is it?” Willa said in a quavering voice, her arms around Quarry’s thick neck.
“Hush up now.”
“It’s that boy you talked about. Gabriel.”
“Yeah, it is. But somebody’s with him.”
Quarry nudged Diane with his foot. “Get up, quick.”
Diane rose to her feet and with Quarry gripping her arm they fast-walked down the passageway and turned a corner.
“Please let us go,” wailed Diane. “Please.”
“Shut up, woman or I swear…”