Before electricity, they measured brightness in candlepower. The light down here was about one half of one half of one candle.
Then the doors above me closed and the candlepower dropped to zero.
Thanks, Parish. You could have waited till I found the hatch.
And, when I did, the latch was stuck, probably rusted shut. I reached for my Luger with the thought of using the butt end as a hammer, then remembered I’d entrusted my semiautomatic pistol to a five-year-old’s care. I pulled the combat knife from my ankle holster and gave the latch three hard whacks with the handle. The metal screeched. A very loud screech. So much for stealth. But the latch gave. I pulled the hatch open, which resulted in another very loud screech, this time from the rusty hinge. Well, sure, this sounds really loud to you, kneeling right next to it. Outside the shaft, probably only a tiny mouselike squeaky-squeak. Don’t get paranoid! My father had a saying about paranoia. I never thought it was very funny, especially after hearing it two thousand times: I’m only paranoid because everyone is against me. Only a joke, I used to think. Not an omen.
I dropped into the utter dark of the elevator car. Wait for my signal. What signal? Ben neglected to cover that. I pressed my ear to the crack between the cold metal doors and held my breath. Counted to ten. Breathed. Counted to ten again. Breathed. After six ten counts and four breaths and hearing nothing, I started getting a little antsy. What was happening out there? Where was Ben? Where was Dumbo? Our little band was being ripped apart one person at a time. A big mistake splitting up, but each time we didn’t have a choice. We were being outplayed. Someone was making this look foolishly easy.
Or multiple someones: After we went rogue in Dayton, Vosch dispatched two squads to hunt us down.
That was it. That had to be it. One or possibly both squads had found our hiding place. We waited here too long.
That’s right, and why did you wait, Cassiopeia “Defiance” Sullivan? Oh yeah, because some dead guy promised he’d find you. So you closed your eyes and jumped off the cliff into that emptiness, and now you’re shocked there’s no big fat mattress at the bottom? Your fault. Whatever happens now. You’re responsible.
The elevator was not large, but in the pitch dark it seemed the size of a football stadium. I was standing in a vast underground pit, no light, no sound, a lifeless, lightless void, frozen to the spot, paralyzed by fear and doubt. Knowing—without understanding how I knew—that Ben’s signal wasn’t coming. Understanding—without knowing how I understood—that Evan wasn’t coming, either.
You never know when the truth will come home. You can’t choose the time. The time chooses you. I’d had days to face the truth that now faced me in that cold, black space, and I’d refused. I wouldn’t go there. So the truth decided to come to me.
When he touched me on our last night together, there was no space between us, no spot where he ended and I began, and now there was no space between me and the darkness of the pit. He promised he would find me. Don’t I always find you? And I believed him. After distrusting everything he said from the moment I met him, for the first time, in the last words he spoke, I believed.
I pressed my face against the cold metal doors. I had the sensation of falling, miles upon miles of empty air beneath me. I would never stop falling. You’re a mayfly. Here for a day and then gone. No. I’m still here, Evan. You’re the one who’s gone.
“You knew from the moment we left the farmhouse what would happen,” I whispered into the void. “You knew you were going to die. And you went anyway.”
I couldn’t stay upright anymore. I had no choice. I slid down to my knees. Falling. Falling. I would never stop falling.
Let go, Cassie. Let go.
“Let go? I’m falling. I’m falling, Evan.”