Page 131 of Deeper Than the Dead

“We get her inside.”

Another voice ... louder. Florence ... Florence Higdon.

Vera made a face. Maybe she was mistaken ... why would—

The trunk lid opened.

Light scorched Vera’s eyes. She squeezed them shut.

“She’s awake.”

The other voice ... softer.

Beatrice.

Vera forced her eyes open. Ignored the glare of light.

Beatrice stared down at her ... her face pale ... worried.

What the hell was happening here? Vera’s pulse sped up, and her mind grew more alert.

“We have to get her inside,” Florence barked. “Help me.”

The two reached into the trunk and grabbed Vera and started to pull her upward.

Her skull exploded with more of that fiery torture. She winced at the agony. Wrestled with the urge to fight them.

She needed out of this trunk. Relax. Let them get you out.

Vera’s feet hit the ground. Her knees buckled. Vomit rushed into her throat, and she gagged. Couldn’t stop it.

The hot burn of the bile rushed into her nose. She couldn’t breathe. Tried to cough. Doubled over in pain.

“Oh God, she’s choking.” Beatrice. “We have to help her.”

Fingers clawed at her lips. Vera forced her mouth open wider.

Air. She needed air. Her heart pounded harder and harder. Her lungs seized.

“There’s no time,” Florence shouted. “We have to get her inside.”

Need. To. Breathe.

Somehow Beatrice’s fingers caught the cloth and yanked it out of Vera’s mouth.

Vomit spewed from her throat. She gasped for air, then she spit and tried to blow the bile from her nose.

More air. She fought for another breath.

Florence yanked at her. “Walk,” she ordered.

Beatrice took hold of Vera again and helped Florence half walk, half drag her forward.

Vera tried to take in the surroundings. Dilapidated mobile home. Grown up yard. Junked car sitting to one side.

She knew this place. Looked just like the description of the dump where Pete Brooks lived.

She turned her head further to the right.

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