Page 79 of The Claiming

“No way, Cassie. Both of you head back to the main chamber and wait for me. If something has happened to Frankie, I may need to pull him out and despite what you believe, I am stronger than you.”

I hate that he’s right and heave a deep sigh.

“Okay, but we’ll wait here. If Jesse comes back, he may have some news.”

Jack nods but doesn’t appear happy and as he drops to his knees and crawls into the tunnel, I hate the sensation that something, or someone, is watching and waiting for us to fail.

THIRTY-NINE

FRANKIE

My progress is slow, but I’m doing it for a reason. If there is a way in here, I am not leaving until I find it. I hold the flashlight between my teeth as I crawl through the tunnel, testing every stone and feeling my way through with touch as well as sight.

I picture Abigail crawling through here in terror and wonder how someone got her out without anybody seeing them. He must have been in here from the beginning, which means he had another way in. I chose this tunnel for a reason because I will not rest until I have checked every stone myself and when I reach the end of the tunnel, I almost howl with frustration when I come up against the unyielding wall of stone.

This is where I focus my attention and use all my strength to test every stone on the wall. The tunnel is low and the walls close around me. There is little headroom and maneuvering is difficult. One person in this tunnel crowds it, and I wonder how two people could disappear without attracting attention.

I finally admit defeat when I have exhausted all possibilities and crawl back the way I came, and then something captures my attention. Call it a breath of fresh air or Satan’s breath, but a sudden waft of fresh air floats upwards and brushes against my face.

I stop and reach down, my fingers trailing over the rough floor, searching for the source of the oxygen that is definitely coming from a crack somewhere.

It may be nothing, but I renew my search with more focus and as I explore the ground near the wall, my fingers catch on a groove. I feel my way and dust the dirt away, my flashlight illuminating the floor beneath me. It soon reveals a perfect square and my heart beats wildly as I uncover what appears to be a trapdoor about halfway down the tunnel.

I sweep the dirt from the trapdoor and my curiosity spurs me on as I press for a release catch. Nothing happens and with a huff of frustration, I remove my pocket knife and slide it around the groove.

Something happens that takes me by surprise as the trap door releases and falls down into a hole. I shine my flashlight and note a short drop to a tunnel below and decide in a split second to check it out before heading back to the others.

As I drop down into the dark space, I shine my flashlight around me and notice there is more headroom down here than the tunnel above it. It’s almost a passageway and I can stand, my flashlight revealing it extends for some distance.

I head further down the passageway, shining my light on the walls. It’s eerie as fuck down here but explains a lot, and my mind is working hard as I venture further. I don’t even consider calling for the others, my interest is firmly focused on what I’ve found and I head deeper into the tunnel with a self-satisfied smile on my face because shit like this turns me on and I can’t believe what I’ve found.

I must walk for ten minutes before footsteps alert me that someone is closing in on me fast and I shut off my flashlight and shrink against the wall, unsure who could be following me. Is it him? The fake centurion.

Then I see a flashlight bobbing toward me and hear a whisper, “Frankie, are you down here?”

I recognize Jack’s voice and shine my flashlight toward him and he hisses, “Fuck, man. That’s creepy as hell.”

He arrives by my side and gasps, “What the hell is this place?”

“The way in and the way out, I’m guessing.”

He heaves a deep breath. “The girls are antsy. We should go and find them.”

“Not yet.”

I shake my head. “I want to check this out first. I’m guessing this leads to the boathouse because that’s where Abigail was attacked.”

“And dragged there down this tunnel.” Jack shivers. “That’s seriously fucked up. Who knows about this place?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”

We head along the tunnel, which apparently only leads one way, and we must walk for fifteen minutes before we come across a small wooden door set in the rock face.

With an excited grin at Jack, I twist the handle and the door creaks open into a wooden shack.

“The boathouse.” Jack whispers, as we stand and stare at the crumbing wooden dock where a small rowing boat lives.

I muse, “This place was condemned years ago. Nobody comes here because it’s off limits.”

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