Page 172 of Corpse Roads
“Nearby water source?” Enzo guesses.
My footsteps begin to quicken. “Late at night, I could hear it. Trickling away, loud enough to reach me. They brought me bowls of water and changed the bucket in my cell a few times a week.”
“Which… would require water,” he catches on. “Not something you’d find running in an abandoned property.”
The other two seem to realise we’ve hit upon something and jump down into the water to join us. The further we walk, the deeper the stream becomes. It nearly reaches our calves now.
“On your knees, Harlow,” I recite as we plunge into darkness. “If I can’t hear your prayers, the Lord Almighty certainly can’t.”
Enzo stares at me with concern. “Huh?”
The temperature drops when the sun disappears. Mist is rising, coating each leaf and bramble in droplets of moisture. Gushing water accompanies my whispered prayers.
When I spot the first stone brick, the last three months vanish in an instant. Every laugh, smile, kiss and cuddle are gone. Stolen away with silent cruelty. God is laughing at me all over again.
I’m back.
Harlow’s come home.
“Holy fuck,” Brooklyn curses behind us. “Are you guys seeing this too?”
“Yeah,” Hunter says grimly.
Grabbing a thick tree root, I yank myself up the steep bank. It takes several rolls through the dirt to clamber to my feet. The healing wound on my leg is screaming with pain. The trees have thinned even more, forming a narrow clearing.
Climbing out, Enzo walks a few metres before crouching to study the ground. “Tyre tracks. They’re old.”
He hoists Brooklyn out next, setting her back on her feet. Hunter follows, his face paling as he spots the crumbling stone structure ahead of us.
“How did they get a car through here?” Brooklyn wonders aloud.
Hunter points deeper into the clearing. “There. Something small could make it through.”
As I begin to walk ahead, drawn closer by an invisible thread wrapped around my pounding heart, Enzo bars an arm across my chest.
“You’ve done enough,” he says roughly. “Let us go in.”
I push his arm aside. “This is my home.”
His eyes widen, clouded by worry. Walking on, my boots sink into the mud-covered ground with each step. I can still feel it squelching between my bare toes from my escape months ago.
The chapel is exactly as I remember it. An isolated slice of antiquity wrapped in an earthly tomb. The stone bricks are crumbling, falling into ruin, and I can see the smashed stained-glass window on the side of the building.
“There.” I point at it, marvelling at the height. “It’s no wonder I broke my arm jumping out of there, really.”
Enzo’s chest rumbles with an enraged roar. “That’s where you jumped from?”
“The door was locked and bolted all over. There was no other way out. I wasn’t going to sit and wait for them to come back.”
Pausing, all three of them draw guns. Enzo taps his comms over and over, but the signal has finally cut out. We’re lost in the wilderness and far from the Lord’s light in this intimate circle of hell.
“What should we do?” he asks Hunter.
Studying the chapel, Hunter rolls back his shoulders. “Let’s check it out. There’s no vehicle parked. We can handle whatever’s inside.”
“Can we?”
“Yes,” Brooklyn answers, shifting closer to me. “I’ve got Harlow. We’re going to be fine. Let’s move.”