Hide (Book Two, the Hunted) Read online

  A black tunnel. The creatures. He spins as best he can on the narrow ledge and looks inside. It’s completely dark, the light from the shaft barely reaching inside at all. He holds his breath, ears wide open, heart pounding so loudly he worries he won’t hear a thing.

  But he does. A soft rustle, a breath of air. The click of stone on stone.

  The creatures are coming.

  Reid looks up, desperate but the elevator is nowhere to be seen, lost in the dark above. He hesitates, not sure what to do. They won’t leave him down here. They can’t. The cold and blank look in Marcus’s eyes makes his panic worse.

  What if Marcus convinces them he’s dead already? Or not worth the effort? Worse, what if they are under attack themselves and can’t help him? Scenarios, each worst than the last, spin through his mind, squeezing the breath from his lungs, panic his only companion.

  He hears voices then, faint and above him, shouting, screaming, sobbing. They must be under attack.

  Reid is on his own. But not alone.

  From the darkness, the skittering gets louder. The creatures are coming to get him.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  Reid has nowhere to go. The lit lip of the tunnel is so narrow he is mostly in the dark, his back facing the approaching creatures. He tries to turn, slips, his sneakers losing traction on the skinny bit of ledge, sending a cascade of pebbles and dust down the quiet shaft. He has no time to think up a plan, no recourse. Either he falls or the creatures eat him alive.

  On his knees, Reid’s desperate hands grip the outside edge of the shaft wall as he searches for something, anything that could save him. As he does, something grabs his foot and squeezes. Reid’s yell is hoarse with fear as he kicks hard. Whatever held him flies off with a muffled yelping cry. Reid spins around so he is sitting on the edge of the ledge, his legs in the dark and holds on to the shaft with both hands as he thrashes out into the dark tunnel with his feet. Again and again he feels contact, catches grunts and whimpers.

  He finally stops kicking, panting his panic, hearing tuned to only the shaft. He can still pick out the occasional skitter and screech but they sound distant. He has bought himself some time.

  Now, what to do with it? Reid leans out and looks up. He can just make out the bottom of the elevator and the growing sound of yelling from above. Not an attack. If the hunters are there, they should be screaming in terror. And probably be dead by now. So they are fighting among themselves. And Reid has a good idea who is in the middle of it.

  So, no elevator rescue. But he can’t stay here. The creatures are getting closer, he can hear them inching forward again. He thrashes around with his feet for a full ten seconds, counting each one before glancing sideways to look down.

  That glance saves him. As he shifts position, his body opens more of the tunnel to light. Because of it, he catches the glitter of eyes in his peripheral vision. A creature sails out of the dark directly at him, giant mouth wide open, teeth glittering as it soars into view. Reid screams and strikes out, his wrapped right hand impacting the furred black ball and sending it spinning with a high-pitched shriek into the open shaft behind him.

  Reid scrambles for the knife in his pocket, flipping it open as he watches the creature fall to the bottom of the hole, impacting with a cartoonish puff of dust. He only has time to flinch as the second one attacks him. This time he lashes out with the blade, slashing across the thing’s gaping mouth. Hot blood sprays over Reid’s face as the second critter joins the first.

  When more swarm his legs, Reid’s terror reclaims control of him. He is a screaming, thrashing dervish, striking out with the blade, kicking with his feet. He feels one bite his thigh but he is moving when it attacks so it only rips his pants and grazes the skin. It dies as he cuts it and sweeps it out through the hole.

  This time when they back off, Reid doesn’t wait to collect himself. He has to act. He takes another look down, wondering if he would survive the fall. Only that possible way out is no longer possible.

  The hunter who chased him has returned. It springs lightly up the wall toward him, eyes fixed on his, grinning face eager. Reid is caught between his desire to hide in the tunnel and take his chances with the creatures and the knowledge that such a move will mean his death. But, he has no choice, he’s seen the hunters move and knows it’s only a matter of seconds before the hunter reaches him.

  He is stunned and suddenly exuberant when the hunter’s second grab at the wall fails. The sharp claws rake over the stone, making a horrible noise that sends shudders through Reid’s body, but there obviously isn’t enough for it to hang onto. It falls, snarling and spitting its rage.

  Reid laughs down at it, voice hoarse. “That the best you can do?”

  The hunter stills, glances at the cables. It looks up at him again, grin returning. But Reid already knows it won’t make it. Not with those claws in the way. Still, it tries, talons sliding free, sending sparks from the corded metal wire. Again it expresses its unhappiness vocally.

  He’s able to ignore it now and focus on his own escape. Seeing the hunter try to climb the wire has assured him it’s not something he is willing to try. He can picture himself sliding all the way to the bottom and into the thing’s waiting grasp.

  Instead, its failure has given him an idea. Desperately, as the sounds of skittering return, he looks up. The walls aren’t flawless, but seem to have generous handholds. Or, at least they would be if he weren’t so injured. Healthy he knows he could make the climb to the top no problem. Hurt as he is, starving and with both hands suffering serious injury, he’s pretty sure he can’t. But he is out of options. He can’t get down and wouldn’t even if it was an option. And from the sounds of the continued arguing coming from above, he’s not getting any help from his friends.

  That leaves trying to climb. The idea terrifies him. Reid has never been afraid of heights but he’s also never been in a situation like this one before.

  The sound of the creatures falls still. He knows they are close, hovering, no longer willing to attack but content, it seems, to wait him out. Reid has to act.

  He finds a crack next to the tunnel and drives the blade of the knife into it as deeply as he can. Reid draws a quick breath, knowing if it doesn’t hold he is dead one way or another. He hesitates one last moment, breathing in short gasps, caught between three horrible scenarios and not sure he’s taking the right one.

  The creatures make his mind up for him. One of them springs right at him, driving him backward, committing to the motion, swinging out and putting all his weight on the knife.

  The furry ball screams its way to the bottom. Reid looks down, heart on overload, to see the hunter dodge to the side, letting the creature die on impact. Chittering and snarling draws his attention back to the lip of the tunnel where several creatures hover just on the edge of the darkness, their gleaming teeth bared at him as they shuffle and shove for position.

  The hunter calls out, the sound traveling up the shaft and driving a spike through Reid’s fear. His hands are on fire again but his terror is stronger than his pain. He looks sideways, sees a place to grip and reaches for it. His sneakers scramble for purchase, locate imperfections, just enough to hold him up. Reid pants against the stone wall, resting his forehead against it. When he pulls back there is a wet blotch where his panicked sweat has darkened the rock.

  Reid looks down again, sees the hunter’s continued efforts to reach him. The things claws may not be designed for climbing but Reid is sure it will figure out a way eventually. He has to move.

  There is only one direction for him. Up. But climbing is a particular kind of torture. Hanging onto the bottom of the cage was hard enough, causing him so much pain he was sure he wouldn’t keep his hold. He jerks the knife free, almost dislodging himself from his precarious place. It sends shafts of lancing pain through his hand but he refuses to let the blade go.

  Forcing his injured hands to move, to support him while his feet feel for a place to grip, is so excr
uciating Reid finds himself stopping for more and more frequent rests, often after only climbing a foot or two.

  A protruding chunk of rebar makes a secure hold. Reid’s right sneaker finds an exposed bit of wooden beam, giving him a safer place to rest. He closes the knife and puts it back in his pocket, not wanting to lose it and knowing he is damaging the blade using it this way.

  He looks up. The elevator is getting closer, if slowly, and he finds himself suddenly hoping they don’t send it for him after all. He hadn’t considered that someone might win the argument and try to rescue him.

  No worries there. The motor remains silent, the cage still. Reid continues on.

  Sweat drips into his eyes, stinging him, making him blink over and over as the bottom of the mesh wavers in his watery vision. He looks down again, despite telling himself he won’t, and sees two of the furry creatures throw themselves into the light, up toward him, only to plummet to their deaths. They remind him of something, though he can’t think of what or why. He’s never seen anything like them before.

  The hunter has finally stopped trying, only stares at Reid, hunger apparent, pacing back and forth at the bottom of the shaft. It grunts softly at him from time to time, almost like an angry gorilla, before turning to face the room below and howl its terrifying cry.

  Reid gathers the last of his energy and does the only thing he can.

  He climbs.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  Reid goes slowly, the only speed he has. The further he climbs it seems, the rougher the wall and the more frequent the available perches or jutting support structure, so he has no need to scramble for holds any longer.

  His worst enemy is weakness. Days without food, feast or famine when it comes to water and very little rest while driving his body to its limits have taken a terrible toll on him. His knees tremble every time he shifts positions, muscles spasming as he tries to give each set some rest by supporting his weight on his arms or his thighs. But the problem remains that none of them have energy to spare and doing so offers little in the way of relief.

  Reid is so tired he is no longer thinking as he climbs, but allowing his body to move and his hands and feet to find holds while the rest of him is fully absorbed in his pain. He slides one foot out to a protruding chunk of rock, opposite hand already letting go of his grip and moving on when his conscious mind finally pays attention. Something is wrong but he is too late to do anything about it. The thin ledge lets go, dropping out from under him. Reid cries out in panic, grasping for the handhold again as unexpected gravity pulls him in the direction in which he has shifted all his weight.

  His fingers slide over the rebar he used as an anchor, slip free, sweat making his hold impossible. Reid feels himself falling, knows it is over even as his desperate hand finds a splintered lip of wood and latches on.

  Tears spring forth, spilling over his filthy cheeks as pain screams in his hand but his fingers refuse to let go, free foot now lifting and scraping the wall, searching for something, anything to support it. Reid’s sneaker hits a crack, hooks in it and he is stable once again.

  He weeps then, hugging the stone wall, letting his fear out until calm returns. He snuffles back mucus and looks up.

  He can hear them clearly, now. Not what they are saying specifically, the echo is too great, muffling their exact words. But the meaning is clear. Marcus and Leila and Cole and Milo. Screaming at each other. There can only be one reason for that.

  Marcus. Somehow he is preventing them from rescuing Reid. He knows it, can feel it. And vows when he makes it up there Marcus will pay for it.

  Reid resumes his climb, blocking out the shouts, focusing on going up and staying alive doing it. He falls into a bit of a rhythm, half-dazed by it, not wanting to tumble into the same lack of attention that almost threw him to the ground, but unable to act without the veneer of detachment. The pain in his hands is almost welcome now, as it’s the only thing left keeping him focused on what he is doing.

  Reid flinches and utters a soft shriek when something hits the top of his head. He looks up with relief so strong it makes him emotional all over again. The bottom of the cage. He has run into the grate at the bottom of the cage.

  Reid looks around, trying to figure out what to do next. He considers the gap between the elevator and the wall, but it’s too narrow. He calls out, unable to make more than noise, brain not allowing words to form. Still, maybe they will hear him? But they are still shouting and he has so little energy left to put into a call for help.

  Reid hangs his head, wanting to quit. So close, but there is no way. He hears Marcus’s voice, clearly for the first time.

  “He’s probably dead by now anyway.”

  He thanks Marcus for the gift of anger. It fires Reid up. He has to prove the asshole wrong. Has to. Especially when the others start yelling at Marcus again, their individual words lost in their steady barrage but their faith in his survival loud and clear.

  Reid looks at the bottom of the cage again and sees something he hadn’t noticed before. The bottom isn’t one continuous piece, but a sheet with an added section welded in the middle. Even better, he sees a hinge.

  Reid tries to get a closer look but it is behind him. Trying to see over his shoulder is throwing him off his delicate balance.

  Knowing he can’t stay there any longer, Reid reaches above him and grabs onto the grated floor. It takes him a bit to muster the courage to let his weight fall on only his damaged hands, but he finally forces himself to, both sets of fingers wound in the rusting metal.

  Reid can’t even cry out, his throat seized by the agony he is feeling. He makes his way, hand over screaming hand, to the hinge. Not just a hinge after all, but a latch, only accessible from the bottom of the cage. It was behind him when he hung there earlier. He hadn’t seen it and neither had the others, obviously.

  In order to unhook it, he has to let go with one hand. His tortured mind flinches from the very thought. But it’s what he has to do to survive and in the end his stubbornness and the remaining anger at Marcus wins.

  He lets his weight fall on his left hand, using his dominant right to scrabble at the latch but it is old and rusty and won’t budge. He chokes on a sob of frustration as he tries and fidgets and yanks on it. Reid leaves it so long that he feels his fingers slipping and has to jerk his right arm back and take hold again or fall.

  He gathers up his nerve and tries again, this time using his left to manipulate the thick metal hook, working it back and forth as his whole body sways over the long drop. Again he almost leaves it too long, this time because just as his right hand is about to give out, the hook squeals a soft protest and loosens.

  Reid grabs on to the grate with his left hand again, panting and soaked in sweat, jaw aching from grinding his teeth. One more time, one last try, it’s all he has in him. Reid screws his eyes shut for a second, pictures himself safe and sound and standing on solid ground before opening his eyes and lunging for the hook.

  It sings a metal song as the hatch swings down and away from him, silent but for a whoosh of air as it sways its way to rest.

  He is so overcome with relief he forgets he has to get inside it now. Not for long, but just long enough to bring his confidence back.

  Reid jumps one hand inside the hole. The other follows. That’s when he realizes he has no strength left to pull himself up. Again he cries out for help but the shouting is so loud his weak voice, trapped under the steel cage, has no volume.

  It can’t come to this. He can’t die this close to safety. Reid grunts and pulls, his feet kicking out as though that will help. One toe catches the edge of the open hatch door and he is suddenly rising. Reid hooks his other foot in the mesh and pushes. His legs have had just enough rest that he is able to put in one last massive effort and propel himself up and into the elevator.

  Reid lies there, catching his breath, legs dangling over the hole at the lip, face pressed to the cold steel. He is confused as the shouting he’s been hearin
g travels, first close by then farther away, as if the argument has a life of its own. As Reid is about to pull himself the rest of the way out, a shadow falls over him and he looks up.

  Marcus stands in the doorway of the cage, his back to Reid.

  “And I said no!” He has something in his hand. Reid notices the box that controls the buttons is damaged, part of it missing. So that’s how he kept them from coming after Reid.

  “He needs us!” Leila is crying, Reid can hear her tears. “Please, Marcus, we have to go after him.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Milo. “You want him to die.”

  “I’m telling you, he’s probably dead already.” Reid eases himself to his feet, doing his best to move quietly. There is murder in his heart, fury so powerful his vision shifts slightly and it is suddenly as though he is looking at Marcus like food. Reid’s anger drops out of him instantly when he recognizes it, his fear an electric shock that snaps him out of that cold and deadly rage.

  Still, his anger won’t allow him not to do something. Reid rises behind Marcus and places both injured hands on his back, shoving as hard as he can. Marcus stumbles forward as though Reid used much stronger force, and spins, staring with his mouth open.

  “Reid!” Leila rushes at him, is hugging him while Milo, Cole and Alex crowd around him. The rest of the kids look so relieved Reid’s remaining anger leaves him, leaving behind only cold hate.

  He’ll never do anything for Marcus again, or trust him even for a heartbeat. In fact, first chance he gets, Reid plans to make sure Marcus dies a horrible death.

  And from the fear on Marcus’s face, he knows it.

  ***

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Leila finally lets him go, her tears have stopped as well.