Page 24 of Sour Layer

“Maybe you should go wait in the truck where it’s warm. I’m not sure where this is going to take us.”

“I’m okay,” I answered. My breath crystallized in the air, and I snuggled further into my jacket. I could last a few minutes before I turned into a Popsicle, right?

A few minutes turned into half an hour, and I was afraid I’d never feel my toes again. Just as I was about to offer to go warm up the truck, Walker stopped and held up his hand.

Clark grabbed my jacket and held his fingers to his lips.

My gaze darted around the area. There was nothing out of place. No tracks, no sounds in the dead of winter other than the sound of my breath.

“They’re here,” he said.

“Where?” Clark asked.

He pointed toward the ground. “Below me. They’re here. We need shovels.”

“Do you mean they’re dead?” I asked.

“No, they’re still alive. Get shovels,” Walker demanded, and Clark ran off while I squatted in the snow with Walker and started to dig with my gloved hands as best I could.

“What do you suppose is down there?” I asked.

“Be prepared. There’re more than two souls down there. There’s four.”

Walker stopped and pulled out his phone. He dialed and then spoke in hushed tones. “Dexter, you’re needed in the woods behind the Lynnfield property. I’ve got four souls, and one isn’t doing too hot.”

“I know,” Dexter Bennett said as he, Clara, and Clark stepped out of the tree line. They each had shovels. Clara handed hers off to Walker and pulled me back out of the way.

“You knew?” I asked.

“I know things,” Clara answered, handing me two packets of hand warmers. “But I just got the downloaded knowledge about the girls this morning and we got here as soon as we could.”

“Maybe we should have just asked you instead of torturing Walker into helping.”

“Nah.” She grinned. “Walker needed to be here, just like Dexter does. This is their first step to rekindling their friendship. Your arrival was the catalyst.”

My brows dipped as I took off my gloves and opened the hand warmers.

Clark walked over to us, and he reached for my ungloved hand before slowly lowering it again. “Brandon is on the way with a crew to help assist. Clara, why don’t you take Mercy up to the Lynnfield’s house where it’s warmer? Find what blankets you can.”

“What if there’re bones?” I asked.

“Then you can help, but you’ve done enough. Heck, just getting Walker to come along without shooting me was progress.”

“Told ya.” Clara nudged me with her elbow.

Clara wrapped her arm through mine and paused when Walker called out, “They’re in the bomb shelter.”

A faint scream for help from beneath our feet made my heart race, and I held my breath as Clark and Walker struggled to open the steel door.

A noxious odor escaped into the surroundings as I moved closer and stared down at the four girls whose tear-stained faces stared up at us from the steps below.

Lying on a cot was the woman I recognized from the Lynnfield picture. The woman was covered in cuts and bruises and lying on her side. I held my breath. I already knew the answer. She was dead.

Clark helped the first two out of the hole and carried them while Walker and Dexter each pulled up the other girls and carried them out of the clearing. Clara followed them out, but I remained, unwilling and unable to take my eyes off the woman.

I eased down the stairs into the hole, covering my mouth and nose with my jacket as I approached.

Her bandages were crude as if applied by the girls in an attempt to save her life. Her clothes were torn and shredded. I pulled off my glove.

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