When You're Sleeping, page 2
"Which way?" Diane murmured under her breath, immediately regretting the volume of her voice. Her words echoed briefly, pushing off into the labyrinth, reaching unseen pockets of darkness.
The urge to escape gnawed relentlessly at her. The thought of breaking free from this subterranean cage, to breathe the cold November air once again, consumed her. Instead, she inhaled the musty, damp scent that permeated those ancient passageways.
Navigating the serpentine paths, Diane felt a growing sense of dread. Each turn seemed like a blind gamble, a step closer to an unseen danger, and yet one she knew was hunting her. She half-expected to confront the looming figure of her pursuer at each new bend. Her nerves, already stretched thin, seemed to unravel a bit more with each flicker and shadow cast by her flashlight.
"Hold it together," she whispered, her voice quivering as she fought back tears.
It was a trick from her childhood, talking herself through fear and doubt. But this time, her self-reassurance felt hollow, ineffective against the gnawing apprehension that gripped her.
Suddenly, a sound shattered the silence, sending a spike of fear through her heart—the unmistakable echo of footsteps distinct from her own. They sounded rhythmically in the depths of the tunnel, a haunting reminder that she was not alone. Each footstep felt like a clock ticking down to midnight, an end she could not see past.
Diane couldn't afford to lose time. Her flashlight, her lifeline in that engulfing darkness, flickered menacingly. With a desperate tap, she coaxed it back to life, but she knew it was a temporary reprieve.
"God... Help me..." she whispered, the thought of the light dying more horrifying than the threat of being followed. Without it, she faced a bleak prospect of endless, blind wandering, leading to inevitable exhaustion or a fatal misstep. She remembered a news story she had read years before about a woman who had lost her flashlight in similar circumstances in abandoned tunnels somewhere in Eastern Europe. She lay down and died of thirst. They didn't find her body for years.
That thought shuddered through her. Diane rallied herself, trying not to give into despair.
As she continued, she noticed the walls of the tunnels becoming increasingly damp. The air grew heavier with moisture, suggesting she might be nearing the surface. She hoped the dampness wasn't an indicator she was heading toward the sea and an untimely watery grave. With the coastline nearby, it was a very real possibility.
But there had been terrible rainfall in the previous days, and she hoped the wet walls were an indication that she was near the moorland above.
Diane's heart pounded fiercely as the sound of the footsteps following suddenly increased in volume, just moments behind. She knew she had to make a decision. The tunnel stretched ahead, its uneven floor punctuated by shallow pools of water that collected in the rock's indentations. She rounded a corner and halted, her breath catching. At first, she gasped, thinking that the wall before her was a dead end. But then her light caught revealed a narrow crevice in the corner, just possibly wide enough to pass through.
Glancing back nervously, the idea of retracing her steps flickered in her mind. But the sound of something stirring in the shadows nearby quashed that thought. Fear clutched at her heart. There was no going back.
With a silent prayer, Diane approached the crevice. She squeezed in, feeling the rough stone scrape against her skin. It was painful, but she pushed on. Halfway through, she found herself stuck. Panic surged as she drew a deep breath, inadvertently wedging herself tighter. Behind her, a cold, silent presence filled the chamber. She couldn't turn her head towards it. She couldn't see it, but she felt its gaze piercing through her.
Her pursuer was there at the entrance to the crevice. She knew it.
In a moment of desperate clarity, Diane exhaled sharply, compressing her body enough to inch forward. Then, a hand reached through the gap behind, fingers entwining in her hair. She couldn't scream—her lungs were empty. Instead, she jerked her head forward in a sharp, painful motion, tearing herself free from the figure's grasp.
She tumbled into a new chamber, the sting of torn hair burning on her scalp. The space was cloaked in a musty, forgotten smell, the air stale and heavy.
Without looking back, Diane staggered to her feet and pushed onward through another open section of tunnel. Each step was a struggle, her breath ragged and uneven. She couldn't afford to stop, couldn't dare to see if her pursuer was following through the crevice.
Her flashlight flickered again, its beam waning in the overwhelming darkness. Diane tapped it desperately, willing it to stay alive. While the light steadied itself, there was no doubt that it was dimming.
The sound of footsteps resumed somewhere, more insistent this time. Had her stalker made it through the crevice? Was her pursuer aware of another way, another set of tunnels to somehow cut her off up ahead? Panic bellowed in her stomach, driving her deeper into the increasingly narrow tunnels. The wet walls there were marked with recent chisel work, evidence of a determined effort to shape this part of the labyrinth. Debris littered the floor, and Diane navigated it with a frantic pace, her uncertain footing loud and pronounced over shattered rock and earth.
Entering a small cavern, she was greeted with a chilling sight: animal bones scattered across the ground, some of them still holding onto the rotten flesh and fur that had once clothed them. Yet, amid the eerie grisly scene, Diane saw a sign of hope. If animals had found their way there, perhaps there was a way out.
I must be close, she thought.
Her hope, however fragile, propelled her forward, deeper into the heart of the underground maze. She clung to the faint promise of escape, even as the darkness—and the footsteps—threatened to engulf her completely.
No matter how fast she moved, the stalker kept pace and then moved even faster. She began to whimper as it sounded as though her pursuer was only moments behind. In response, Diane's pulse thundered in her ears, a frantic drumbeat as she raced along the tunnel. Her breaths were sharp and uneven, the cold underground air biting at her lungs. The path ahead seemed endless, a perilous, unending stretch leading her either to life or to doom.
Looking over her shoulder as she moved, she gazed in horror as the threatening shadowy shape of her stalker appeared from around a corner behind. Diane let out a blood curdling shriek, Suddenly, the earth above groaned, almost in response; a deep, unsettling rumble that vibrated through the tunnel's structure. Instinctively, Diane quickened her pace, driven by an urgent need to flee.
In an instant, chaos erupted. The tunnel shuddered violently, and a cascade of rocks and soil began to plummet from above. Diane lunged forward in a desperate bid for safety, feeling the rush of air as a large rock slammed into the ground just inches behind her.
Amidst the turmoil, Diane glimpsed the elusive figure that had been stalking her through the dark labyrinth. There was a brief, chilling moment of eye contact, a flash of something otherworldly in their gaze, before it vanished behind the curtain of falling earth.
Crashing to the ground, Diane gasped for air, momentarily stunned by the fall. Her eyes darted frantically as she took in the extent of the collapse. The way behind her was now a jumble of debris, effectively sealing her path of retreat.
Heart racing, she realized she was now cut off from her pursuer but also trapped. The collapsed tunnel loomed behind. She only hoped that she was going the right way, and that she hadn't simply leaped deeper into the network of tunnels. Flickering flashlight still in hand, the oppressive stillness of the underground returned, heavier than before.
Hopelessness swelled inside of her. Diane fought to maintain her composure, focusing on the need to find another way out. Her flashlight flickered weakly, the dim light struggling through the dust that was still settling from the collapse.
Gathering her strength, she pushed herself up. Her body protested with aches and pains from the exertion and the impact of her fall. She knew she had to continue, to navigate through the rubble and find a path to safety before the batteries in her flashlight ran out.
The air was laden with dust and the smell of damp earth, choking her with each breath. She coughed violently, her throat raw and burning.
Her flashlight gave another faltering flicker, casting long, dancing shadows along the tunnel walls. The light was dying, and with it, her hope of finding a way out was dimming. She pressed on, fueled by a growing desperation. A desperation she had to cling onto to survive, otherwise her desire to lay down and let it all be over would take control.
But just as the bleakness of her situation was readying itself to take over, there it was. She let out a short cry as tears streamed down her face. The section of tunnel had collapsed on both ends, and the one now facing her had left a gaping hole in the ceiling. Through it, rain streamed in, each drop like a helping hand.
Diane rushed towards the rubble before her and pulled herself up on the broken rocks. Her hand cut in places on the sharp rocks, but she didn't feel it. She only felt the desperate desire to breathe the night air. Her hands soon moved from rock to wet soil and grass as she finally pulled herself up out of the tunnels.
She stood up in the open moorland, gasping for the fresh night air. The vast expanse of the nocturnal wild landscape stretched around her, leading to the faint, rhythmic sound of the sea in the distance. She couldn't see it, but the sea was a comfort. It crashing waves sounded like the beating of her own heart, a stark reminder that she was alive.
Collapsing onto the cool, damp grass, she tried to gather her strength, her chest heaving with each breath. Relief flooded through her as she lay on her back, the rain pattering against her face. Above, she could see the moon struggling through a blanket of dark clouds. Diane remembered lying on her back as a child doing the same, her father naming the stars for her.
But the cold would not let her lie in that memory for long. Catching her breath, she pulled herself back onto her feet and looked around at the dark moorland. It stretched for miles into a wall of darkness, but off in the distance through the rain, she could see a dim collection of lights. A village. She had to get to it.
Before she could orient herself, a rustling sound nearby snapped her back to a state of alertness. She turned, her blood freezing as a dark figure emerged from the moorland shadows. The silhouette that had haunted her in the depths of the tunnels now stood ominously close in the open air.
"Please..." Diane begged.
The figure's hand moved swiftly, a flash of metal glinting in the moonlight before it struck. Pain exploded in Diane's chest, sharp and overwhelming. She fell back, her hand clutching at the sudden wound, a weak attempt to stem the flow of blood.
Now she lay on her back, wheezing.
The figure loomed over her for a fleeting moment, a dark, menacing presence like a shroud of death, then turned and melded back into the night. Diane lay on the ground, feeling the cold seep into her bones, her strength fading rapidly with each shallow breath.
She looked up at the night sky, as she had done as a child, a few brief stars managing to twinkle through the clouds above her. The distant roar of the sea blended with the whispers of the wind, a soothing yet distant melody. Her eyelids grew heavy, the struggle to keep them open becoming more arduous. Diane's grip on consciousness began to slip. The night sky blurred above her, and the sounds of the natural world around her softened into silence. Slowly, everything faded into darkness, leaving Diane in a state of serene stillness. And then she was gone.
CHAPTER ONE
Finn strolled through the park, his breath visible in the crisp November morning. The rustle of dry leaves underfoot and the distant caw of crows were joined by the low, constant hum of London traffic. The birds sounded almost distraught in response.
"You and me both, guys," Finn said, almost smirking to himself.
Bare branches clawed at the overcast sky, and the chill wind tugged at his coat, sending shivers down his spine. He wasn't used to the British Fall, and to him it resembled winter more than anything. He may have ran from the US as professional and personal life collapsed, but sometimes he yearned for the warmth of home.
Despite the serene beauty of the English park, with its sprawling lawns and ancient trees, Finn felt uneasy. The past few weeks had been a maelstrom of confusing events, each one more unsettling than the last.
After solving three cases with Amelia Winters in the UK, he was still waiting for his court date in the US. It was to decide whether he was culpable for the terrible damage caused to a hotel during a hostage rescue. If things went against him, his suspension from the FBI would be made permanent, and he'd be financially ruined. If they wanted to pin gross negligence on him, he could even see the inside of a prison cell if things went the wrong way.
But Finn's most pressing thoughts had turned to the fact that his ex-fiancee, Demi, had come to the UK and was claiming that their break up had been forced upon her through blackmail. The truth was clear as mud.
He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was orchestrating the chaos in his life, playing a game where he was the unwilling pawn. He was fighting as best he could to keep the paranoia out of his thinking, but it was a battle he was losing.
As he walked, his gaze drifted to a Victorian-style bridge arching gracefully over a small, leaf-strewn stream. There, standing in the middle of the bridge, was Demi, dark hair resting on the shoulders of a long gray coat. Her smile was warm, but her eyes betrayed a weariness that spoke of sleepless nights and troubled thoughts.
Finn felt both excited and crushed at the sight of her. He had been quite willing to spend the rest of his life with her, and, to him at least, it would have been a happy life. The pain of their breakup still lingered, a wound that had never fully healed. For the last few weeks, Demi had been telling him that their breakup was to protect him. That someone had blackmailed her into doing it. But he still didn't know what to believe.
He approached slowly, his steps hesitant, as if he were walking towards a mirage that might vanish at any moment.
Demi's arms opened, inviting him into an embrace. Finn hesitated, then succumbed to the familiarity of her touch. He wrapped his arms around her, the scent of her perfume momentarily transporting him back to happier times. But as he held her, the memories of their separation surfaced, sharp and unbidden. She had told him she had had an affair. That would have been the end of things, but now she was in England saying none of that was true. It was a roller coaster he didn't want to pay for.
Reluctantly, Finn stepped back, the warmth of their embrace replaced by the cold reality of their recent problems. He looked into her eyes, searching for answers, for understanding, but found only the reflection of his own confusion and hurt.
Finn's gaze hardened as he confronted Demi. "Do you have any proof yet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of hope and skepticism.
Demi looked away, shaking her head, her eyes fixed on the ground. "I... I don't, Finn. I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration and defeat.
Finn sighed, feeling the weight of unresolved tension between them. "Demi, you know I can't just take your word for it. Not after everything that's happened."
Demi met his gaze, her eyes filled with a pleading desperation. "I know, Finn, but I swear, I left you because I was scared. Those messages... they said they'd hurt us both if we stayed together."
Finn crossed his arms, his expression forged from doubt. "And yet, conveniently, all these threatening messages are gone? Just deleted?"
Demi nodded, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "Yes, and I don't know how. They were there, and then... they just weren't. I don't understand how I could have deleted them."
"That's a little too convenient, don't you think?" Finn retorted, his frustration evident. "And you're telling me there's no trace of them? Nothing?"
Demi's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "I thought maybe someone at the FBI... they could have done it remotely, right?"
Finn rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on. "Maybe. But why? Why would someone at the Bureau care enough to sabotage our relationship?" Finn had an uncomfortable answer building at the back of his mind. He was involved in a serious court case with some of the higher-ups at the FBI wanting him kicked off the Bureau, all because he disobeyed a direct order, resulting in the safe return of a hostage but a building being badly damaged in the process. The court case was still pending, but it was coming, and soon.
If someone within the Bureau had a vendetta against him, then putting pressure on his personal life might be enough to make him give up the fight to keep his job at the FBI. But another possibly floated momentarily through his mind: What if it was someone connected to a criminal he had put away, instead?
There were too many possibilities, and Finn knew he had to keep his mind from getting bogged down in them.
Demi bit her lip, looking genuinely distressed. "I think someone was in my hotel room, Finn. Things were moved out of place. It felt like I was being watched."
Finn shook his head, not knowing what to believe. " Here in London? I don't understand any of this, Demi. Who would want to do this? Why would they go to such lengths? If someone did that, it's because they followed you here."
Demi's shoulders slumped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know, Finn. But I'm scared. I'm scared for both of us."
Finn looked at her, torn between his lingering affection for her and the confusion that clouded his judgment. He wanted to believe her, to find some semblance of truth in her words, but the lack of evidence made it nearly impossible.
The conversation hung heavily in the air, casting a long shadow over what was once a bond of trust and love.
Finn gazed at Demi, a trace of concern creeping into his voice. "How long can you stay in London, Demi? Your funds must be running low."
Demi hesitated, then sighed. "You're right. I'm almost out of money. I don't know what I'm going to do."
Finn rubbed his chin, a solution forming in his mind. "We still have our joint savings account, remember?"
_preview.jpg)
