“You think the darkness can hide you from me?” said the whisper.
I yanked and tugged my wrist from the iron grip, but to no avail. My voice caught in my throat and my breathing constricted. But I didn’t need to say anything, as Derek took over.
“We’re getting out of here. Guys, stop! Guys!” called Derek to the rest of our group. No answer. “Daisy, turn around. We’re leaving.”
“I can’t move. He has my wrist.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha,” laughed the disembodied voice.
“Let me go,” I yelled.
A click invaded the darkness. Then a stinging pain pierced my arm. “AHHH!” I called out.
“Daisy, I’m so sorry,” cried Derek.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I was trying to stab whoever has your arm.”
“Well, you didn’t. You stabbed me. Forget the stupid knife. Help me get my arm free.”
Derek grabbed my arm, and we both pulled. The grip on my wrist let go; the momentum sent us both toppling to the floor of the mineshaft. Inch by inch we crept to a standing position. I patted the walls then turned and proceeded toward the exit. Derek’s footsteps shuffled behind me. His hand placed itself on my shoulder as we moved. Neither one of us said anything. Finally, we reached the light of the exit and the makeshift ladder. I latched on to it and climbed.
I glanced back and down to see the top of Derek’s ball cap. Good. At least we’re together.
“Daiiiiisssy!” called a voice from further down into the shaft. I stopped as the familiarity of it hit me. It was Derek calling my name. A chill flooded my bloodstream. Then, who is on the ladder behind me?
(To Be Continued)