Page 58 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

He’d put something heavy over the trapdoor. They were stuck, underground—buried alive.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to skin you alive, you old geezer,” JD shouted.

The only answer was the faint sound of a dry cackle and footsteps walking away. Then nothing. Silence.

“Well, if this don’t take the cake,” JD groaned. “Anybody else know about this five-star hotel room?”

Anger roiled, hot and molten, under her skin. “Nope.”

“Got any ideas, doc?”

“Yeah, when we catch him.” Rage added a thread of menace to her voice even she could hear, “I’m going to hold him down while you skin him.”

“Okay,” JD said slowly, taking a step away from her. “That’s good, I guess. I meant for getting us out of here.”

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it on. The faint illumination from the screen didn’t quite reach the walls of the space. “No reception. I’m still going to text for help.”

She sent a message to Smitty. “I don’t know if he’ll even get it.” She hadn’t told him what she planned to do, where she’d go.

She’d left him behind, without transport.

She was an idiot.

“Are there any tools in here?” JD asked.

“There are a couple of really old pickaxes in one of the barrels.”

“Might be able to pry open the hatch with those,” JD said, shuffling over to the barrels.

“If whatever he put on top of it isn’t too heavy.”

“Bring that light over here,” JD ordered.

Abby hit her flashlight app and shined the much brighter light on the barrels. “I can’t have this on for long, it uses up too much battery.”

JD didn’t reply, just worked on the lid until he got it off. He reached into the barrel and pulled out a pickaxe. The handle began falling apart before it cleared the lip of the barrel.

“Shit,” JD muttered as the axe head fell back to the bottom with athump. He reached down again, withdrew the rusted axe, then moved over to climb the ladder.

The bottom step snapped in half.

He lifted his foot higher to the next step. It broke in half too.

That was weird.

“Fucking ghosts,” Jack grumbled. “Tell them to stop messing around, Abby.”

“What?” She glanced around before what he said really registered. “Wait,ghosts? You really believe that? Jack there aren’t any gho—”

The wooden floor above themcreakedand cracked, and dust sifted down in a light rain. If it caved in, it could kill them both.

She stared at the wooden boards, holding her breath and her muscles ready to propel her to a different spot in the cellar if the ceiling gave way.

“The ghosts like you, Abby,” Jack said. “But don’t get mouthy.”

Another sharpcrackfrom above sent a bolt of alarm arcing through her.

“Sorry,” she said to the room at large, shining the light around, but seeing no one besides her and Jack. “We need to get out of here before we suffocate or the ceiling collapses and we’re crushed.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Please.”

---