But I didn’t. Instead, I replied, “I have no idea. I’m in the woods. In a hole in the ground.”
The operator paused. I figured that was the biggest “Oh shit!” reaction I was going to get. I could hear her clicking away on a computer and I imagined her assembling the cavalry, riling the troops.
Go save Honor!
I’m a writer. I’m dramatic. Let’s all move on.
“Stay on the line while we try to locate your phone,” the woman said. Clearly, she never wrote a thing. She probably didn’t even like to read.
Ring. Ring.
Hello?
I’ve been kidnapped. Someone wants to kill me!
Hold please.
I’d get better service at McDonald’s.
“Listen to me,” I said, ignoring her. “I’m in the woods. I’m scared. My name is Honor Calhoun. I live on Main Street in Slatington. Please come find me. Send help.”
“Hello?” the operator said. For the first time, emotion showed in her voice. “Ar… you… th…?” Her words broke up, the connection failing.
I gripped the phone tightly, suddenly sorry I made fun of her voice. She was the only one who could help me.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“We’ll do every…. we can—” the woman said, but her words were cut off when the phone lost its signal.
I groaned in frustration and pulled the phone away from my ear. I glanced down. Less than half the battery remained.
I thought about calling back. I knew it would probably be useless. Maybe in a few minutes whatever signal was out there would come back. Maybe she heard enough of what I said. Hopefully she got my name. She wouldn’t forget about me. It was her job to help.
Right?
If I couldn’t depend on someone else, then it was up to me to get myself out of here. I tucked the phone into the pocket of my jacket and looked up. The sky was utterly dark. With all the trees above, I couldn’t even see the moon or any stars. I could barely see two inches in front of me.
Waiting until morning to at least try to get out of here wasn’t an option.
I walked over to the wall and laid my palm against the loose, moist dirt. It crumbled slightly beneath my touch. I pushed harder against it, satisfied when it packed down. Using the toe of my right foot, I drove it into the side, kicking a little, trying to delve my foot in and catch hold. When part of my foot was solidly encased in dirt, I reached above my head and forced my fingers into the earth.
I started to climb.
I took my left foot and brought it up, trying to drive it into the side just a little higher than the right. It was more difficult than I hoped. I fell several times. Each time I got a little more desperate; each time I got a little more tired.
Eventually, I made it a little ways off the ground. My arms and shoulders trembled with exhaustion. I felt as if I’d just carried about fifty pounds worth of groceries up three flights of stairs and across a living room.
I paused in my efforts and leaned my forehead against the wall. The earthy smell of dirt washed over me. It was strong and outdoorsy. Any other time, I might have thought it was pleasant.
Now it reeked of death.
The phone in my pocket beeped and startled me. I let out a little shriek and jerked, falling off the wall and tumbling onto the ground, landing on my back.
I sucked in a sharp breath, which caused even more piercing pain than I already felt. My side ached. It felt swollen and uncomfortable, and I just wanted to lie there and cry.
I allowed myself a few long seconds to brush the sweat and dirt off my face. The phone beeped again and I pulled it out and held it above me, staring up at the lit-up screen.
I couldn’t understand why sometimes the stupid thing worked and sometimes it didn’t. This guy seriously needed a new cell provider. Of course, I would rather it only work a little than not work at all.
Prove it, the text read. I couldn’t even be angry by the request. If I suddenly got a text from someone claiming to be kidnapped, I would probably want proof too.
I cleared out of the messaging screen and pressed the camera button.
If he wanted proof, I’d give it to him.
After making sure the flash was on, I held the phone out away from my face. Right before I snapped the selfie, I grabbed the locket out of my pocket and held it up beside my cheek. I don’t know why. It just felt like the right thing to do.
I snapped the picture and then pulled the phone down to view it.
I grimaced. I looked like hell. I looked worse than hell. I looked like something that crawled out of a grave on some B-rated horror movie.
The bottom fell out of my stomach. What I was experiencing right now could totally be part of a horrible B-rated movie.
The entire picture was cast in that yellow-ish kind of glow that a flash provides. My face was streaked with dirt. My skin was pale, my eye was completely swollen and dark, my lips were caked with dried blood, and my hair was half falling out of its pony. Beside me, the necklace was clear, and I nodded, thinking that was good.