Page 8 of So Insane

The torches showed her that the tunnels were smooth-walled and devoid of stalactites or stalagmites or any other kind of natural formation. It was manmade. That could also prove helpful.

She repeated the details she knew as she ran. Pale skin, huge blue eyes, manmade cave. If she could get out, if she could win this demented game and escape, she could tell the police enough for them to find him and stop him. She could see Trevor again, could have the life she dreamed of.

She fought back panic as she reached a dead end. She looked around wildly and found another tunnel leading off to the left. She sprinted down it, tears streaming from her face as she rushed along. She had no idea where she was going, but she had never had any idea where she was going, so it didn’t really make a difference. All that mattered right now was putting distance between herself and that freak.

She reached the end of this tunnel and turned right down another one. She felt as though she was running upward, but she had no idea if that was a fact or just another desperate hope.

She turned another corner and tripped over something wet and sticky. She fell with a cry, then cried out again when her elbows and knees crashed against the ground. She forced herself to her feet, her arms and legs shaking from the force of the impact. She turned to see what she had tripped over.

A sound like a teakettle about to boil escaped her mouth. She lifted her trembling hands to ward off the vision in front of her, but it remained where it was, the perfect and incontrovertible truth that she was right to believe she’d never leave this place alive.

The man in front of her had died maybe a week ago. Enough skin still remained on his face that she could see the terror in his sunken eyes and peeled back lips, but a chunk of his right cheek had sloughed off where her foot had struck it.

Clara screamed then, the sound echoing throughout the walls of the cave and returning to her ears as an echo of demonic laughter.

CHAPTER FOUR

Faith closed her eyes and allowed the warmth of the water to ease the soreness in her muscles. Of all of life’s simple pleasures, warm water was easily the most rewarding. That was something that most Americans wouldn’t understand unless they had fought overseas.

She laughed as she recalled an exchange with one of her comrades in Afghanistan. Staff Sergeant Decker was the company heartthrob, and even Faith hadn’t been immune to his charms. Of course, they had only slept together the one time, and it hadn’t worked out very well, but for a moment, Faith allowed the boyish and arrogant Sergeant to know her better than most got to.

This particular exchange took place a few months before their ill-fated tryst. The company had rotated back to Germany for a few weeks of leave, and Decker and Faith had enjoyed their first warm shower in months.

Not together. That was too bad, Faith thought. If they had showered together, then Decker might have had a chance to finish what he didn’t start until later.

Anyway, Faith and Decker had met downstairs to join the rest of their squad for dinner, and Faith had giggled at the beatific smile on Decker's face.

“Did one of the concierge girls join you in the shower or what?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “No, don’t worry. I’m still saving myself for you. I’m smiling because the only thing better than a nice pair of tits is a nice, warm shower.”

Faith couldn’t agree more. It was only with reluctance that she shut the water off and left the shower, wrapping herself in a towel.

Briefly, anyway. Turk waited for her outside the shower, and he had other plans.

"Turk!" Faith cried as he snatched the towel from where it hung at her waist, leaving her naked except for the towel wrapped in her hair. She glared at him but then laughed. "Well, that broken tooth isn't causing you any problems at all, is it?" she asked. She was already dry anyway, and only wrapped the towel around herself out of habit.

She walked to the big dog and crouched down, cradling his head in her arms. "You're all better, aren't you?"

He whimpered in response and nuzzled her. "Hey," she said, "you keep that up, and David is going to get jealous."

She winced as the lighthearted moment disappeared with thoughts of David. She had no idea if he'd be jealous at all anymore. Part of her wasn't even sure how she'd feel about things if he was jealous. Obviously he wouldn’t be jealous of Turk, but if she showed up with another man to Turk’s next appointment, a part of her wondered if David might not simply be relieved. A part of her felt that she might be relieved to simply dispense with the thought of romance at all. The part of her that felt capable of love seemed to have died when Trammell cut her. Now all she was left with was the memory of the love she once had for Michael and a love for David that she was increasingly beginning to feel was simply acting out a wish that she was someone she wasn’t.

You feel guilty, so you attach yourself to a knight in shining armor so he can tell you that you’re wonderful and beautiful and perfect, just like every little girl wants to hear.

Faith rose, smiled sadly at Turk, and made her way to her dresser. She pulled on her bra and panties and then headed to the closet. "Turk," she said softly as she pulled her shirt over her shoulders, "you can't keep pretending like what happened with West didn't happen." She buttoned up the shirt. "Because it happened." She sighed and retrieved a jacket from the closet. "You might not want to talk about it, but I want you to know that if you ever do feel like it, I'm here for you."

She slipped on the jacket and fastened the buttons before turning to face him. The sadness haunted her gaze as she took in his form, so strong and...

And normal.

The dog was just normal. He was the same Turk he always was. He looked at her with gentle, loving eyes. Happy eyes. Eyes that bore no hint of the scars that West must have left him. She thought of the haunted look he wore when she first met him after the original Donkey Killer had nearly killed them both. It had taken him weeks to even begin to recover. This time, only a week later, he seemed completely fine.

"It's okay," Faith said softly. "I understand." That was a lie, but it was all she could think of to say. She stepped forward and reached out a hand to gently pet his head and neck. His soft fur felt reassuring against her fingers as they closed around it gently.

She stood and glanced in the mirror and then froze. She wore her white blouse and her dark blue slacks. She wore her dark blue jacket as well. She'd dressed for work. She almost undressed, but the automatic, habitual way she'd gone about getting ready felt reassuring.

"We need to get back to work, boy," she said. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment. She didn't look traumatized. She looked normal. The Boss would tell her she wasn't ready. The Boss would recount all of the reasons she needed more time. He would try to reassure her while adamantly refusing to allow her to go after Dr. West. He would do all of those things, but there was no way he could deny that she appeared ready.

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