45
Rayne
Into the Burrow
O n my hands and knees in the dark, I screamed until my throat felt flayed. When I could no longer get the breath to scream, panicked gasps overtook me.
“Please, God, no... please...” I screamed again, beating the snow with my fists as if it would make this all stop. As if it would make her come back.
If I was loud enough, drew enough attention to myself, then surely it would come back.
I yelled for it. I braced my hands against the dirt piled around the burrow and cursed it, begged it. I cried out prayers to any god that would listen.
“Don’t take her! I’m right here! Isn’t this what you want? I’m—right—fucking—here! Bring her back! Come back and face me! Salem ! Salem, please God, no... don’t take her... don’t take her away...”
Snow fell around me. The forest was mercilessly cold and far too quiet. My voice was gone, my screams silenced.
I knew what I had to do.
I was going to get my girl back, no matter what it took.
The burrow looked and smelled like a pit to Hell. Taking a bandana from my backpack, I tied it around my face, covering my mouth and nose. I discarded my bag, and my rifle too, when I realized I wouldn’t be able to crawl through the small opening with them.
I had only my knife, my flashlight, and a lighter in my pocket as I crawled into the darkness.
The tunnel was narrow, just big enough for me to get through nearly flat on my belly.
The dirt was wet and sticky—not damp enough to be mud, but enough to make the air thick with the smell.
Roots stuck out everywhere, brushing against my face like fingers.
I dragged myself over bits of broken bone and lumps of rotting flesh.
“I’m coming, Salem. Hold on. Please hold on.”
I couldn’t consider a possibility wherein she didn’t survive. I couldn’t fathom the absence of her life from this world. But wasn’t that exactly the kind of nasty trick fate would play: offering me everything before brutally taking her away?
“Fuck no,” I snarled. Fate could do as it pleased with me. I’d always believed I would die on this island, that my flesh would be consumed by its dirt. And it could take me still. I would gladly go in her place.
If God needed another death so badly, then it would be my own. How the hell would I go on without her? What light would I find if hers was snuffed out?
I refused to be her curse. Blackridge wouldn’t take her.
It would have to kill me first.