Page 35 of Explorer's Revenge
Propping her hands on her hips, her back to the gaping hole, she grins at us. “Who’s going first? Rock, paper, scissors?” When we groan, she laughs. “What? Oldest first—” Her words are cut off as something appears from the darkness within the hole. The shape moves too fast to see, and it snatches Maeve then drags her down with it.
Her scream echoes around us.
One second, she was there, and the next, she was gone.
All that is left are claw marks in the dirt where she stood.
TWENTY-FOUR
MAEVE
The first thing that pierces the floating comfort I’m in is pain. It stabs through me—mainly my head, back, ass, and legs. My eyes are closed, but I keep them that way for a moment as I scan my body. My head hurts, but it isn’t to a point where I’m worried I cracked my skull—did that once, thanks, so I know what that feels like. My back feels like I hit something hard, but I can twitch my toes, which means nothing is broken, but moving them brings a whole lot of agony to my left leg—the type that means a big injury.
I just breathe through the pain, trying to remember what happened. Did I slip? It doesn’t seem like a mistake I would make, but I must have. The guys’ shocked faces are the last thing I remember seeing before oblivion swallowed me.
The pure horror in their gazes haunts me.
I don’t remember hitting the bottom of wherever I am. All I remember is intense pain, the feeling of free-falling, and then nothing.
Okay, enough, Carter. Time to get moving.
It’s my dad’s voice, like that time I slipped into a glacier and he called instructions from the top. Accidents happen, but I can’tlet fear overwhelm me. I have to deal with it as it comes and adapt. I am clearly in that hole.
First things first . . .
Blinking my eyes open, I realize I can’t see anything. Wherever I am is pitch black. Panic starts to consume me, so I slam my eyelids shut and force myself to relax.
I strain my ears for any familiar sounds, like the guys or anything, and wait. All I can hear is a soft lap of water and dripping somewhere farther away. Nothing else. No yells. No screams.
I don’t hear my name being called either, which isn’t a good sign.
Once I have myself somewhat in control, I make a list.
First, I need to find out what’s broken or hurt in my body.
Second, I have to figure out where I am and find a way up for help.
I can’t expect anyone to save me; I need to save myself. It’s what I was taught—it’s the way of the world. I can’t lie around feeling sorry for myself.
Opening my eyes again, I try to get my vision to adjust, which it does, albeit slowly. Shapes and shades of gray come into view. I can’t see far, but I can see my hands when I lift them, which is something. Sliding one into my right pocket, I search for my keychain that’s attached to the inner pocket. I unhook it from the carabiner, tug it out, and turn on the small light attached to it. It blinds me for a moment before I shine it around. This isn’t good.
There’s water to my left, and it seems to go for a while, beyond the light’s capabilities. There are rocky outcroppings surrounding me, almost like a barrier in the front and right. There are a few to the left as well, but I can still see the water, and if I reached out, I could probably touch it. The light doesn’t pierce the ceiling, but I’m lying on rock and wet sand.
I’m not dead, so at least there’s that.
Okay, now my injuries. I’ve been putting it off, knowing there’s something wrong with my left leg, but I can’t anymore.
Licking my dry lips, I place the light on a rock to my left, angling it up. It only reaches the immediate area, but it’s better than nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I look down at my legs. My first thought is I’m fucking lucky. They are straight before me and not broken, which is a fucking miracle. I don’t know how I didn’t break any bones. Running my gaze down my right one, I only see surface wounds, scrapes, cuts, and torn pants. Nothing major.
Now to my left.
At first, I can’t make out much. My pants are completely torn into shreds from mid-thigh down. I carefully try to pull a hole farther apart so I can see the skin below, and I hiss through my teeth, but I can finally spot the injury. It covers most of my thigh and past my knee. My skin is a strange color, and blood pumps steadily from the raw wound, which looks like a chewed-up mess. No bones are poking through, though, which I guess is a mercy.
My boot is missing, and I don’t know why that pisses me off, but it does.
My thigh is bad, though, really bad. I’m losing a lot of blood. It’s sliding through wet sand and down a small slope into a pool of water, tinting it red.
