Part 11 (1/2)

The well had gone as dark as the inside of a tomb, the sun having disappeared from above, and I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. And that meant I still couldn't see wh.o.m.or what-I was dealing with. But it was there, I knew that, because it had a grip on me like an octopus with claws.

”Let go of me!” I sc.r.a.ped a foot down each of my ankles, pus.h.i.+ng the rope off, then dug into the muck with my sneakers. Now or never. Do something or become Paolo's grave buddy.

I wheeled around. The creature let out a shriek of surprise, nails skittering as it stumbled across the slippery bottom. It was the same shriek my mother had made in the woods the other night when I'd grabbed that tree.

I couldn't think about that now.

I pressed my back against the wall, then raised my right hand. A faint glimmer of silver winked back at me.

All this time, I'd had the knife in my hand, and I'd for gotten. I couldn't have been more stupid if the word had been branded on my forehead. I s.h.i.+fted my grip, and with the weight of that handle, I finally felt as if I had a way out.

All I had to do was stab the thing. a.s.suming I could find it in the dark. Get in one deep wound, and then- Okay, getting out of the well itself would be a problem of a whole other sort, but once the thing was dead- That's all I had to do. Make it dead before it made me dead.

”I've waited a long time to meet you, Cooper,” it said.

Don't talk to me. Please don't talk to me. Its voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I pressed my free hand to my ear and tightened my relations.h.i.+p with the wall.

”Get away from me, freak!” I arced out with the knife and hit nothing but air. The creature had slinked away. Or was it smaller than I thought?

Had it ducked down? Decided to crawl instead?

I tried to reach around for the backpack zipper in order to get the flashlight, desperate to bring light to the fear holding me. Where was the zipper?

Where was it?

”We're two of a kind, you know, Cooper. We're two a” Its voice trailed off-because it was tired? Dying? Or just thinking?-and it began that huff-huffing again. ”Very, very special two of a kind.”

”Shut up!” I screamed, giving up on the flashlight. I slashed out again with blind circles. ”I'm not anything with you. To you or about you. Just get the h.e.l.l away from me before I kill you!”

It chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, an evil Santa laugh. ”You can't kill me, dear Cooper. I'm the whole reason you're here. And now you're going to be my a” Huff-huff, closer now, and even in the inky black, I could feel it, smell it coming closer. ”Be my-”

”No!” I didn't want to hear any more. I lunged for the creature as it approached, the knife raised, aiming for chest level-did it have a heart? Lungs? Whatever it had, I was going to stab it there-but all I saw in the darkness were two eyes- Two human eyes.

Green, like mine.

Exactly like mine.

Like looking in the mirror.

For a split second, I froze, and the creature started to laugh again. ”You can't hurt me, Cooper. Not me.”

I shut my eyes, and before I could think another thought, I jabbed forward, knowing if I kept my eyes open, I'd never do it. I'd never be able to stab something that looked so much like me.

Do it.

Do it now.

The knife sank into something soft as Jell-O and my stomach flipped over in disgust, but still I kept going and turned my fist to the right, carving into more soft, fleshy stuff.

The creature howled in pain. Shrieked my name.

Then something clawed at my arm, sc.r.a.ping through the heavy fleece of my sweats.h.i.+rt. There was a horrible ripping sound, fabric giving way, then flesh, and the coppery scent of blood filled the air, the thing still shrieking, jerking away from the blade, but even as we separated, I kept waving the silver knife, screaming at the thing to get away.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

The thing had gone.

I don't know how I knew. I just did. It was as if a part of me had left, and a whisper of relief ran through me. The heavy, thick stench of its breathing had stopped. The shrieking had cut off like a stereo ripped out of the wall. The smell had eased by tenths of a degree. I opened my eyes, half expecting to see my own eyes staring back at me.

But I found only blackness.

I swung the backpack down, dug inside for the flashlight, clicked on the beam. As soon as I'd illuminated my surroundings, I wished I hadn't.

I was standing in what looked like maybe a rodent graveyard. Tiny bones littered the floor, little skulls-those were rat heads, right?-scattered like white bowling b.a.l.l.s all over the murky floor. But that didn't make me want to hurl. It was the bigger bones, a towering stack of them, that sat in one corner.

Human bones.

Licked, or maybe chewed, clean.

And from the size of the pile, Paolo's weren't the only bones in there. ”Holy s.h.i.+t!”

I jumped back and hit the wall, and when I did, I dropped the flashlight. It hit the stone floor with a smack. The light sputtered for one second, then disappeared.

No, no, no. Not the light-don't go out. Don't leave me down here in- The dark closed around me again like prison walls.

Beneath my feet, the tiny rodent skeletons crunched. I kept the knife out and ready, waving it in a wild circle. Panic clawed at my mouth, squeezed my throat, crushed my lungs. I had to get out of here. Now. Before Iwas added to that pile.

”Megan!”

No answer.

”Megan! You there?”

Silence from above.

I chanced a glance up, and as if on cue, the blanket of dark began to peel away and the late-day sun returned. What the h.e.l.l?

What just happened? And where was Megan?

I kept calling for her, searching above for her face, but there was no sign of her. Not so much as a peep in response. I told myself she'd gotten scared. Run off. Run home to her parents.

Except the sickening thud in my gut told me she wasn't safe in her bed, tucked between her lilac-decorated sheets.

She was gone. And down here, a note of terror struck my heart. The creature I'd just royally p.i.s.sed off was gone, too, and I had no way out.

In the movies, the hero gets out of a sticky situation in one or two tries. He's the hero, after all, so he's smart and Mac- Gyvers a quickie solution with a broomstick and a piece of gum.

I'm no genius, so it took me a good half-hour, maybe longer, to finally get out of the well.

This time, I had the rope, which didn't do me much good without someone at the other end. But I sucked it up-had to; my other choice was to stay down there, and that was so not an option-and felt around in the dark corners of the well until I managed to find a big rock. I tied the rope around it and, after a lot of attempts, finally winged it out of the pit. It caught on something above-a stump, tree branch, whatever. I didn't care. It was strong enough for me to climb.