Julian’s Curse

Dark November

G rief, to some extent, helped to numb my fear. I’d once compared it to molten lava, a searing, unstoppable force. But now, it was something else—quiet, numbing, like a weight pressing down on my chest, leaving little room for anything else.

After I’d finished a heartfelt letter to Julian—my just-in-case goodbye that included the address where I’d be going—and left it on top of my desk for him to find—around two, I quietly slipped into the garage to take Kali’s car. And it was surprisingly easier than I’d expected because Will didn’t foresee another attempt to get away. This made sense, because after the tabloids dissected my personal life, it would have been temporary insanity to repeat the same mistake.

Kali was correct—her car was the epitome of a clunker. The seats looked stained, and the engine hummed with a peculiar rhythm, making me wonder just how long it had been since she’d had it checked. It coughed to life with a hesitant roar, rattling like a creature reluctant to wake. The sight of it made me miss Bradley—the kind friend who could breathe life back into any car, which also included my old Miata. He had a way with engines, a gift for coaxing them back to life with a few deft turns of a wrench and a bit of patience. I was equally certain he’d try to talk me out of this plan, if only he knew where I was headed.

Resolute to still go ahead, I exited the parking garage. Soon, I passed the city limits of San Diego, steering eastward. My backpack shifted in the back seat, a not-so silent companion. With my eyes still on the road, I let my imagination drift to Sophie spinning joyfully in her bridesmaid dress. In that vision, she was whole, radiant, and carefree—healthy and happy in a way I desperately wished was real. That day, she’d even catch my flower bouquet because I felt that Mark would be the one companion she’d choose for life.

The further I drove, the more I ventured inland. After passing Santee, I found myself entering Lakeside, a quiet, rural community tucked away from the city’s pulse. The road narrowed, flanked by rolling hills dotted with patches of dry grass and the occasional ranch house. The air smelled of earth and sagebrush, and the landscape stretched wide, a vast contrast to the cramped confines of city life. Small, weathered homes sat nestled between overgrown trees, their lawns unkempt, giving the place an almost forgotten charm. A few old barns and rusted fences dotted the horizon, and everything felt still as if time itself had slowed down out here.

The signal on my phone had dropped to a single bar as I turned onto a road that was little more than a dusty path, littered with rocks and dirt. The car jolted with each bump, its frame rattling under the strain. I’d most likely damage the undercarriage, but I’d deal with paying Kali later.

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” The GPS announced. I came to a stop, now surrounded by treacherous silence. The address seemed to match, yet there were no houses in sight that corresponded to the number that stranger had given me.

I waited for what seemed to stretch on forever, now even doubting that the kidnappers would show up. Had the email been real?

But soon, a rustling sound came from the trees, and a short man with curly hair and a distinctly tanned face stepped into view. He looked in his 20’s, like a young kid that got on the wrong side of things. “Get out of the car,” he yelled. Fear ricocheted through my body. It was as if I’d suddenly floated out of it and was watching my life from the outside. I’d never been this vulnerable.

“Leave the backpack where it’s at.” He leveled a gun at me, the cold metal glinting in the sun. I soon noticed that he wasn’t alone.

“Put your arms up,” his companion, a much taller man order, as he approached me to search my pockets.

He shoved me around so hard that I face-planted into the rocks, my knees now bruised, my hands turning raw. As if the pain wasn’t enough, he forced my face into the dirt, the gritty earth scraping against my skin. “The money is in the backpack, so I am here for Sophie,” I murmured into the ground.

Then I heard her. Jess. “Bring her in,” she ordered, her voice cutting through the air.

But before I could react, a wave of intense, uncontrollable pain surged through my body. It was as if every nerve fired at once, locking me in place. My muscles seized, and I found myself trapped—unable to move, my body rebelling against me. Then I most likely fainted.

I woke to the sound of water dripping, slow and rhythmic. A foul, unmistakable stench hung in the air.

“Lucie.”

Sophie’s face hovered above me, her voice a distant echo. For a moment, I wondered if this was death—or something just as strange, a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. But no, she was right in front of me, her features sharp against the dim light of what appeared to be an elongated, shadowed space—some kind of storage room, cold and unfamiliar. She looked dreadful—dirty with mud, her face seemingly covered in bruises, as if they had beaten her up.

“Wake up, friend.” She pleaded.

My strength had returned as I pushed myself upright. “Sophie, you’re alive,” I breathed, my voice thick with relief. But that relief quickly gave way to a creeping anxiety as I took in our surroundings. The walls were rough and uneven, coated in grime, and the air carried the faint scent of metal and earth. Every sound, every shift of movement, seemed to bounce off the cold stone, amplifying the sense of isolation.

“Does anyone know you came here?” She whispered as if someone could hear us.

I opened my eyes wide, to let her know this would be a lie. “No, absolutely not.” I didn’t trust it that we were there alone. Only slightly I nodded my head yes and she seemed to understand.

“Are you injured?” She examined my limbs. “They tasered you just like they did me, then threw you down.”

I shook my head, then mentally checked in with my body. It didn’t seem like anyone had attempted to hurt me. However, my stomach tightened painfully, cramping in waves that felt different from the sharpness of a blow. It was as if my body itself was betraying me, its rhythmic contractions a stark reminder of what was happening. A deep, hollow sensation began to settle in my chest—more grief.

“Sophie are you okay? Have you had water, and food?” I skimmed her, now blinking my eyelids to stop any weakness in tracks. Her mouth looked cotton-like, and her usually elastic skin had turned dry and pale. Without being a doctor, I could recognize the signs of intense dehydration.

“Not for two days,” she acknowledged. “She knows that she’s stretching my life to the maximum.” She was now referring to Jess. A sulking sigh escaped her lips before she pulled me into a hug, seeking comfort in the embrace. “I knew they were asking for money for my life, but I didn’t know they’d bring you here, Lucie.” She hardly murmured.

Then it hit me. Jess had planned this carefully to get both in this situation. And I hated the fact that I knew exactly why. She wasn’t going to let us walk like the email promised. She was letting us perish here, alone, without any help. The realization sank in like a stone in my chest—likely, they’d run off with the backpack, hoping that nobody would ever find us here in this grave.

I had to do something to take care of Sophie, to get us more time, so Amanda could find us. There was a solid chance that by now, people were looking for us already. “I am going to get some water in you,” I blurted out, “Urine is not the best to hydrate, but it’s something,” the words sounded ridiculous even to me, but in that moment, it felt like the only logical solution. I wasn’t ready to give up—no matter how gross the idea.

She smiled with her beautiful round eyes. “Lucie, you’re a fighter, you’ve always been.”

Could I make a clean catch with everything going on? I had to because Sophie’s life depended on it. Her heart condition made her especially vulnerable, and even the strongest people would be drained after two days without water.

“I contemplated drinking some of the water that’s dripping here. But it’s probably coming from a broken septic. The real estate agent in me discouraged me.” She remarked.

I scanned the darkness, desperately searching for any way out. The only light came from a flickering bulb, casting more shadows than it chased away.

“We’re in a shaft below the earth.” She read my mind.

“Is it part of a house? Do you know if there is a structure above?” In that case, Amanda would have a solid chance at finding us, especially with Julian’s help.

“No, Lucie.” She sighed. “If you really want to know, the entrance of it is hardly noticeable. Jess made sure I knew this as she locked us in here. It’s hidden with overgrown vines, in the middle of a forest. And there’s no structure above it, nothing that would indicate there’s anything beneath.”

I searched her eyes, now filled with intense fear.

“She’s wrong,” I retorted. “We’ll both find a way out. We could try to dig our way out of here,” I contemplated, the words, however, feeling desperate as they left my lips. What if the walls collapsed on us? Tree roots snaked their way into the shaft, their gnarled fingers reaching through the earth. Maybe it was better to conserve our energy, wait for rescue, and hope we weren’t too far gone.

She seemed to agree, her face etched with the same grim reality. “The chances of it working are extremely low, Lucie. And I honestly don’t have the strength anyway.” She seemed too weak to sit up now, her body slumped against the cold, stanching walls. I could see the exhaustion etched on her face, the toll this place was taking on her. I couldn’t let her fade away, not like this—not when there was still a chance.

My eyes moistened as the words slipped out. “You’re going to be standing next to me at my wedding... and then I’ll be there for yours.” It was as if I could already hear Mark’s voice, filled with desperation, fighting to save the love of his life, to keep her by his side.

“We’re not going to die here.” I grabbed the sharpest rock I could find and began digging into the dry earth, desperate to create something—anything—Sophie could drink from. I only needed to get her a little bit of time, till they’d find us.

“I’ll try to keep it as clean from blood as possible, I am really sorry.” At this point, disgust didn’t matter when she’d had no water in two days.

“Blood?” She frowned, her brow furrowing with concern. “You’re bleeding?”

I took a shaky breath, my words tumbling out in a quiet confession. First, I didn’t want to tell her, but maybe I too, needed the warmth and comfort of her words. “Sophie, I started miscarrying a few days ago. At least, it seems like it.”

She blinked rapidly, clearly now sharing my sorrow. “I am so sorry, Lucie. Sometimes God makes decisions we don’t agree with, but we have to accept them.” I couldn’t help but think she was also trying to make peace with our situation. “I used to resist so hard, you know, my fate. I was so angry that I couldn’t just be like everyone else.”

I assumed she was now speaking about her heart issues.

“But at one point, I surrendered. It made everything easier.”

I nodded. “You’re right, I think there’s a good chance that our baby would have had many risks because of Julian’s addiction,” I squeezed her hand back. “Still, I think I was ready to be a mom, you know. I started picturing Julian holding the baby, and I think my abortion then also became impossible because it was his child.”

“You’ll be one, someday.” She comforted me. Was it a true prediction? Would I ever feel Julian’s touch again, his warmth, his presence? I remembered how he’d told me so boldly that he’d gotten sober because of me, and for a brief moment, it made me worry that he’d go down a dark path if I didn’t return.

“Has he sobered out in the rehab?” She asked.

“Yeah, he’s come back, Sophie. He seems to be in a better place.”

She seemed content with that, not having energy for more.

Silence fell between us. I tried to shake off the iron grip of fear, but the reality of our situation pressed down on me like a weight I couldn’t escape. The fact that we were trapped underground, hidden away and so hard to find, only deepened the sense of dread that clawed at my chest.

“Let’s pray,” she suggested gently. “Prayer’s helped me survive quite a few dark moments.” She looked like she might collapse at any moment, her exhaustion evident. We sat in silence, speaking with an unknown higher power, until a sense of relief slowly washed over us. “Lucie, please tell Mark that I love him. But he’s going to have to find someone else, I want that for him.”

I wanted to stop her and tell her not to think this way, but I let her continue. If this was important to her, I’d hear her out.

“Tell my parents they did a great job with raising me. My life was a dream, and it’s only fair it didn’t last forever. My two dogs, they’re my babies, so Mom has to take care of them.”

I blinked hard to stop my tears from flowing uncontrollably.

“Jess will get hers eventually, but tell her I forgive her. Deep down, she’s also human,” she added graciously.

I couldn’t breathe through my tears now, the weight of it all settling in. Even in the middle of her worst nightmare, she remained generous, and kind—her spirit untouched by the evil surrounding us. However, I knew Jess wouldn’t face forgiveness in the aftermath. No, she’d face Julian’s wrath—he wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

“Know that being here with you is all I could have wished for,” her voice was now barely above a whisper. “When you get out, please don’t carry any guilt. Don’t weaken yourself with crying, either.”

“No, Sophie,” I wailed, the pain in my chest rising, raw and uncontrollable. “I love you. We’ll be alright, I promise.” By convincing her, I could also convince myself.

“Julian’s going to find you,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

Amidst the horror of it all, I let her fall asleep because it seemed like the best decision medically. I left my hand on her wrist, trying to feel her pulse, as if the simple act of touching her might anchor her to this world. Her skin felt cold under my fingers, and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat—slow, but steady—was the only thing reassuring me that she was still with me. The silence between us was suffocating, but I couldn’t tear myself away.

I didn’t know how long I sat there. It seemed the night had descended on us, even though there was no way of telling. Fatigued myself, I leaned against the wall of the shaft, my eyes never leaving Sophie as I continued to monitor her. Each breath she took seemed like a small victory. Trying to stay awake felt like the smart thing to do, in case someone was calling from the outside. I didn’t know if my voice could carry all the way up, but I wasn’t going to let the chance slip away either.

I placed my hand on my stomach, gently speaking to the baby, my voice soft but filled with hope. I wondered if he or she could still be there, if the little life I carried was somehow still alive. At this point it seemed like an illusion already. “I am sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I hope you know I loved you beyond words. I would have never let you go.” My eyes welled up with tears. “Julian loves you too, he would have been beyond honored to be your dad.”

The silence around me was deafening, and in that moment, I couldn’t escape the crushing weight of helplessness. More time passed in excruciating fear, next to my friend who seemed almost lifeless.

“Lucie,” Sophie suddenly murmured, rolling to her side, her voice soft and distant. “I had a dream...” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I think the white light is real. It felt like a tunnel, calling me with its warmth. I think it’s going to end soon.”

Her words sent a chill through me, a mixture of confusion and sheer dread.

“That’s it,” I muttered to myself, as I stood up, the desperation pushing me forward. I was about to go pee in the hole I’d dug earlier—my body had been holding on for too long. “I am going to get water in you,” I decided resolutely, turning my attention back to Sophie. She needed fluids, and no matter what it took, I wasn’t going to let her fade without doing everything I could to save her.

That’s when a sudden sound jolted us both—a faint scraping, followed by a distant thud. Next, we heard a creaking sound, like old wood bending, and the unmistakable growl of barking dogs. A flashlight suddenly flooded the shaft, slicing through the darkness like a beacon.

A rush of relief hit me all at once.

“Anybody down there?” A deep voice shouted, echoing through.

“We’re down here,” I bellowed back, certain the sound carried far enough for them to hear us. A man in a uniform, his face half-shadowed by the beam of his flashlight, started climbing down on a rope. “We’re coming.” Others seem to be waiting on top, ready to follow.

Too excited, I turned to Sophie, only to find her immobile, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

“Sophie?” I whispered urgently, shaking her gently. “Sophie, please stay with me. Help’s here, we’re going to get out.” I touched her cheek, my fingers trembling.

“Get a doctor here, now!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “She’s not waking up! Please, hurry!”

The men moved with practiced speed. The medic descended almost immediately, a large duffel bag in hand, and knelt beside Sophie. His hands moved swiftly over her body, searching for any sign of life. “No pulse,” he shouted, his words cutting me deep. Time slowed. My vision narrowed. My dearest friend, the woman I had fought to save, was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do but watch. Then I remembered Sophie’s words, how she’d insisted that we pray, and so I did so fast.

“Get the AED ready,” the medic barked, his voice commanding, unwavering. He reached into the duffel bag, pulling out the defibrillator with practiced ease. The sharp scent of antiseptic and the clatter of the equipment filled the shaft.

The AED whirred to life, the display screen flickering as it analyzed her heart rhythm. “No shock advised,” the machine chimed, then repeated: “No shock advised.” The flat line on the screen mocked us, the absence of life so glaring.

“Chest compressions,” the medic barked, and his hands pressed down hard, rhythmically, into Sophie’s chest. Her body jolted with each compression, but the line on the monitor stayed stubbornly flat. The medic didn’t stop, though—he just kept going, relentless.

“Nothing,” the woman assisting him said, her voice tinged with resignation. I couldn’t help but notice the glance they exchanged, one that spoke volumes—an unspoken acknowledgment that hope was slipping away.

“God, please don’t take her away. Not yet,” I said loudly. I touched her bracelet as if the cherished item could help the situation.

“Give it another shot,” the medic muttered, barely glancing at me, already back to his work. The AED beeped again, louder this time, more insistent.

“Shock advised,” the device suddenly announced.

“Come on, Sophie,” I whispered desperately, my voice breaking. Just then, I felt Julian’s arms wrap around me, pulling me gently into an embrace. “Baby,” he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. I let myself ease into his warmth, but my gaze never left Sophie. Julian’s scent wafted into my nose, comforting and familiar, grounding me in the midst of the chaos. I’ll be here through the darkest grief, he’d said. And he was.

The AED beeped again, this time louder, more insistent.

The monitor blinked once.

Twice.

And then, faintly but undeniably—there it was.

A flicker. A tiny, fragile pulse.

“She’s alive.” The medic blurted, as the nurse exhaled.

“We’ve got a pulse. Keep her breathing, we’re not out of the woods yet.” The medic instructed. “Beta blockers, now.”

I exhaled loudly. The nurse immediately sprang into action, grabbing the medication while the medic kept his hands on her chest, monitoring her vital signs with razor-sharp focus. The monitor continued to show her heart beating. “Let’s get her to the hospital,” he instructed.

It seemed that he was confident Sophie could make it through the transport. Still watching that they got her out safely, I flung myself into Julian’s arms, the flood of relief crashing over me like a wave.

“Baby,” he repeated, his voice steady but tinged with concern. His warmth surrounded me, the powerful, unyielding presence of him anchoring me in the disarray. Julian’s tall frame felt like a fortress, his muscles firm beneath his tailored jacket offering something to lean on.

A man, who also seemed to be part of the medic’s group, approached us.

“I am fine,” I assured him. “I just need a moment with Julian.”

I searched his eyes, trying to find the courage to speak the words that had been tearing at me. I couldn’t keep this secret any longer. The medic understood and gave us a moment of privacy.

“Julian,” I said, my voice a whisper, thick with emotion. “I think I am having a miscarriage.” I blurted, and his eyes instantly flashed with pain.