Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The Mine Shaft
My throbbing head pulled me from unconsciousness. I opened my eyes. My vision swam, and I hastily shut my eyes to stop the nausea swirling in my belly.
I forced myself to take steady breaths. When I felt like my headache had abated just a bit, I gingerly opened my eyes again.
Everything was blurry, but that had more to do with my loss of glasses than the bump on the head.
I waited a moment to see if the dark shadows at the edges of my vision returned, but thankfully they abated.
Peering up, I saw the weak light attempting to penetrate the cavern I’d fallen into.
I wasn’t too far down—maybe eight feet—but it was deep enough that I couldn’t climb out.
The walls were smooth rock and there were no handholds.
As I looked around, I saw a boarded-up section of chiseled wall and an old wooden crate on the ground.
I’m trapped in an old mine shaft.
On the upside, I was safe from the mountain lion.
On the downside, no one knew where I was.
I reached for my phone, only to find an empty pocket.
Fuck.
My fingers were cold, and I hastily put them beneath my armpits in an attempt to warm them.
They began to tingle, and I tried not to think about the direness of my situation.
My tailbone throbbed, and I placed a hand against the wall and slowly stood.
I walked in a small circle to get feeling back in my limbs.
My head hurt and I tentatively touched the scratch on my cheek, courtesy of the tree branch.
My fingertip came away tinged with blood.
A dull ache pulsed through my side—the side I’d landed on when I fell.
The baby.
Panic hit hard as I once again peered up at the hole. There was no way to tell the time. No way to know how long I’d been unconscious. The mist covered everything in a watery film and strangled the daylight.
I took a deep breath and gave myself a pep talk.
My phone had been blowing up all yesterday afternoon and last night from Salem and Hadley.
No doubt they’d see Brooks at Elk Ridge and ask why I wasn’t answering their messages.
When they realized Brooks and I were on the outs, they’d come to the apartment and demand I open the door.
They were pushy and invasive, and they were exactly the kind of friends who didn’t respect boundaries.
When they saw that my car wasn’t on Silver Street, they’d be confused and then they’d get worried.
All I had to do was wait. Wait for my friends to realize I wasn’t anywhere to be found, and that they’d need to start looking for me.
Yes, all I had to do was wait.
Surely, I’d be rescued by afternoon. I could hang on for a few hours; I just had to remain calm.
But then the rain started.
Fear overrode exhaustion.
Fear overrode my pep talk.
Fear overrode everything.
All I could do was shake in terror. Dread flowed through my body like the rain flowing down the walls of the abandoned mine shaft. It mixed with the earth-packed ground, turning pockets of dirt into mud.
The light from the opening dimmed as angry black storm clouds filled the sky.
A sob escaped my throat as the rain dampened my pants. Brooks’ flannel did very little to keep me warm and my hands grew stiff with cold.
I tried to move around the confined area, but my tennis shoes sank into mud with an audible squelch.
Stupid.
I was so incredibly stupid.
I’d left the safety of the apartment. At some point, between the car and tumbling down a mine shaft, I’d lost my phone. Not that I expected to have cell service down here even if I still had it with me, but now I’d never know.
And like a fool, I hadn’t even been carrying mace, let alone bear spray.
Drizzle turned into sheets of rain. I went to the wall with the aged piece of decaying wood. I kicked the rotten slab and it cracked and broke, revealing an entrance deeper into the mine shaft.
I didn’t know much about old, abandoned mine shafts, but because they weren’t maintained, I imagined their drainage system wasn’t top notch.
And I couldn’t go deeper into the mine for fear I’d miss my own rescue.
I had to stay near the entrance. At least the new opening would allow me recess out of pouring rain and hopefully I would not freeze to death before help came.
A stream of water formed at my feet and began to flow rapidly through the tunnel into the mine shaft.
I pressed a hand to my belly.
I’m so sorry.
I was sorry that I couldn’t protect my baby. Sorry that I’d placed us in danger in the first place. Sorry that I’d run when I should’ve faced Brooks.
Sorry that I’d never get the chance to love him fully, the way he loved me. Sorry that we wouldn’t be together or get to have a family.
Sorry that I was just another person he’d have to survive losing.
The temperature continued to drop and I was trapped.
I’m going to die in here.
I closed my eyes and prayed to God that if I had to die, that it would be quick.
I’m so cold.
And I was getting colder, fast. The rain had soaked me before I’d moved into the shelter of the mine shaft. Shivers wracked my body.
Then I started to have crazy, exhausted, frigid thoughts . . .
The idea of dying was terrifying . . . but why?
Why was I so afraid of dying? The pain? Yes. Of course I didn’t want the pain. But it went deeper than that. The instinct to survive was chiseled into our DNA. But that was just biology. But what I felt in the mine shaft wasn’t only biology. It was something else.
Our baby.
I had to live for our baby.
In the cavern of the abandoned mine shaft, I confronted the deepest, darkest parts of my being and found myself to be nothing but a coward.
A coward who ran when things were hard. A coward who had found true love, and the moment it was tested, I’d turned and sprinted away from it.
I’d rejected the only man I’d ever wanted. Because he hadn’t been what I thought.
Shame coated my tongue.
Shame, and something else.
Envy.
I envied people who were strong. I envied people who had spines. I envied people who knew how to love unconditionally, who wouldn’t walk away when life threw challenges at them.
My heart swelled with agony.
Agony, and regret.
Deep, marrow-staining regret.
Here, at the end of my short life, I saw myself for who I truly was—and I didn’t like it.
I didn’t like it at all.
Brooks had given me every part of himself. Every part of the man he had become. And the parts of his past he’d chosen not to share with me he’d done so to protect me from a life he no longer lived.
And I’d spurned him. The man had killed in the name of vengeance; he’d meted out justice for the most innocent amongst us.
I’d rejected him because he hadn’t fit into the neat and tidy box society was determined to shove us into.
We’re all imperfect.
We’re all human.
We’re not always infallible.
We make mistakes. We trip. We fall. And yet we pick ourselves back up and try to do better.
That was all Brooks was doing.
He wanted to leave his past behind him, and I’d used it against him. I’d used his vulnerability against him, and I hated myself for it.
I prayed again. Not just that I’d be found. But that I’d be saved.
So I could do better. So I could love harder.
Coldness seeped into my skin and my thoughts began to shudder.
And still, I prayed.
I chanted please, please, save me over and over again. With fervent hope.
After a few hours, my ears began to ring from the din of the rain. So much so that I swore I imagined the bark of a dog.
I looked up at the hole in the rock.
A dark snout and long ears appeared.
The dog went wild with a rapid succession of many barks as it pawed at the ground.
“I’m here!” I yelled, pushing away from the wall and struggling to stand.
But I was numb, the rock was slick, and the ground was mud. I slipped and fell on my side, unable to get up again.
“I’m here . . .” I tried to shout, but it came out more of a cry than anything.
A hand pushed the dog’s nose out of the way and a head in a cowboy hat appeared. Amber eyes filled with relief.
Brooks turned and hollered, “I found her!” He looked down at me again. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”