Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
CASEY
Casey was hallucinating.
The full-body aches, the hypothermia he knew was at last setting in, the lack of sleep—all of it together had him hearing things.
On the positive, the pain in his ankle seemed to have ebbed, the bit of sky he could see was brighter, and he knew he’d heard the rough caw of a raven, maybe the whistle of a hawk.
But the yip of a dog?
No. It had to be a coyote.
As the light had grown stronger, Casey had begun to comprehend just how far away from the cave’s opening he still was. The climb seemed insurmountable, impossible, and he’d stopped moving so his tired mind could take stock again.
Even if he hadn’t injured his leg, it would take proper climbing gear to get to the surface, and all he had were his hands and arms. That meant one fucking inch at a time.
There were more sounds from above. Coyotes again, the forest waking up. Creaky, slow, just like Gabriel getting out of bed in the morning and slinking down to the kitchen for the first coffee of the day. Casey could picture him now, his hair sticking up on one side and a wrinkle on his cheek.
“Because half of the night Gabriel sleeps like he’s wrestling a bear.”
There didn’t seem to be as much of an echo now. Or that was just his imagination, nothing had changed, and he was lost in a hypothermia fever dream. Casey figured it could go either way. Both ways? All the ways.
He cocked his head. More faint sounds reached his ears, and they weren’t the yip of coyotes. It was—
“Maybe you aren’t fucking hallucinating, Lundin.” Instinctively, Casey tried to rise to his knees and almost passed out in agony. The pain hadn’t ebbed as much as he’d thought.
“Here, I’m here.” His throat was dry, and the words came out raspy and weak.
“Casey! Casey Lundin!” The call was still faint but clear enough.
Casey blinked and shook his head. For another half a second, he wondered if it really was his head injury causing him to hear voices, that he was manifesting what he most wanted to hear.
“Casey Lundin!” It was louder this time and closer to the entrance of the cave. A woman’s voice. “Goddammit, Casey, if you can hear me, respond right fucking now!”
No one could manifest that level of concern and also sound like she’d happily rip a limb off when she got to him except—
“Greta?” Casey gasped her name. The resident bats whispered and rustled among themselves.
Deep, resonating woofs reached his ears. Newfoundland-like woofs. Etienne’s derpy, wonderful animals. Casey’s heart skipped several beats and he felt lightheaded again. Sucking in a lungful of dank cave air, he yelled as loud as he could.
“Here! I’m down here!” His voice was weak, just hopefully not too faint for canine rescuers to hear.
Excited barking and human chatter followed his shout. Casey’s hopes rocketed. He swiped at his cheeks, shocked to realize he was crying.
Somehow, rescuers had found him.
“Here,” he called out again, and louder. This time, the echo didn’t bother him. This time, someone could hear him. This time, someone was up there.
A deep voice asked, “Casey, my friend, how the hell did you get down there?”
Casey thought that was Paul.
“How about I save that for after I get out of here?”
“Very well.”
He could hear voices: Etienne, Paul, Greta, and others discussing who was going to rope up and climb down to him. Having been part of more than one rescue mission, he knew at least ten responders were waiting to assist.
“I’m roping down to assess,” Greta yelled. “Noah too. What’s your status?”
Noah? Casey had to think hard for a bit, fighting the increasingly groggy haze.
Noah Jackson. He gave Lawrence, the good-natured trash guy, a run for his money.
Wore a lot of tie-dye and had recently moved to Heartstone to help his grandfather out.
Tor had told him that Noah was overqualified for rescue but hadn’t said why.
“Banged my head, ankle probably broken. Bumps and bruises.”
“How’d you get down there?” Greta yelled. Gabe appreciated that she did not vocalize the unspoken you fucking idiot.
“It was easy, honestly, but I don’t recommend doing it my way.”
“At least you didn’t squish your sense of humor.”
Rescuer headlamps and flashlights shone Casey’s direction.
Seeing the walls of the cave lit up after the all-encompassing dark was eerie: The carved-out, not-actually-stairs steps and the debris and whatnot left by others in the past hundred years were suddenly brought into view.
During the sweep of one beam, something in the detritus snagged his attention. A human skull.
“Shit.”
“What did you say?” Noah asked, landing beside him.
Casey dragged his eyes away from it. Someone had died down here or had been killed and dumped.
“Incoming,” announced Greta.
Noah gathered his safety ropes and slithered out of the way. Then Greta swung out and started down, her headlamp adding to the light from Noah’s.
“Am I looking at a skull?” Noah asked, peering at the bone lodged in sediment. “Tell me I’m imagining things.”
“Nope,” Casey managed.
“Crime scene?”
Casey waggled his head, which only hurt a little. “No way to know just by looking.” He was having a harder time making himself form sentences. So fucking tired.
Greta gently lowered herself so she landed as close to Casey as she could, kneeling to see what he’d done with his shirt.
“Nice work on the ankle. Did I hear the word skull?”
Noah pointed. Greta turned her head to see and grimaced.
“I feel like Mother Earth is at last giving up secrets she never wanted to keep. Let’s get someone else down here for that.” Greta clicked her radio and relayed the information.
Casey listened to her go back and forth with Tor and Simeon of the Many Hats. A giggle escaped.
“Head wound, broken ankle, hypothermia, temp is under 89. Have blankets and broth ready.” Greta clicked off. “Sound good to you, cowboy?”
Casey tried to nod.
“Noah’s gonna splint your leg for real. Don’t worry, we’ll have you up in a jiffy,” Greta assured him, and helped to wrap Casey up in a silver space blanket. “We don’t want to bang you around, but you know it might happen.”
“Bet… takes longer than… did… to get down here.” Whatever adrenaline had remained in his system was gone, and having Noah packing his ankle hurt like hell.
“When did you turn into a comedian, Casey? Are you sure that’s just a bump on your head?” Greta teased.
Casey didn’t answer. A third rescuer had repelled down and joined their party, and honestly, he didn’t have the energy.
After too much jostling, Casey was strapped into a harness and ever so slowly bumped up to the surface until he was at last out of the mine and in open air again. Once above, he upped his estimate to fifteen in the rescue group. Noah checked him over again, and he felt a pinch in one arm.
“Gabe?” he slurred.
Greta, still wearing her red hardhat, appeared in his line of vision. “I’ll call him right away. I take it your phone is somewhere down in the cave?”
He nodded, but it took a lot of effort. “Bowie?”
“He’s at my place with Abby. And don’t you worry about Gabriel. Noah’s taking care of you from here to the hospital.”
He hurt all over and even the blankets and hot broth couldn’t get him warm, but Casey couldn’t help but wonder why Greta would tell him not to worry about Gabe. However, his eyes shut before he could ask.
The box.
“Wait!” Casey protested feebly, forcing his eyes open again, blinking against the sunlight.
The rescue team had prepared him for the helicopter ride to the hospital. An airlift was overkill in his opinion, but no one had listened to his protest. They’d debated carrying him up to the road, but apparently it was a three-mile trek. Casey hadn’t realized he’d walked that far.
Greta appeared in his line of vision again. “What is it, Casey? We need to get you to the hospital.”
He patted his chest where he’d tucked the metal box. “Found this. Keep safe. Feels important.”
Greta unzipped his jacket and retrieved the container, turning it over in her hands.
“Anything else in those pockets of yours?” she teased.
“Jeep, keys in jacket pocket.” Whatever pain meds they’d given him were taking effect. “Bring box to me?” Words were starting to be very hard.
Paul appeared at his feet, Etienne coming to stand next to him. “We’ll keep the Jeep safe, don’t worry. You focus on healing so we can have you and Gabriel over for dinner.”
“Thanks.” He hoped they knew he meant for everything, for finding him in the mine.
“Eh.” Etienne grinned. “The dogs needed the practice. Now get out of here. One doesn’t keep a helicopter waiting.”