She didn’t want to go too deep into the tunnels as she knew she would become hopelessly lost. The thought made her double over and she sucked in some deep breaths; she felt sick from the fear and for the first time in her life she felt the cold pressure of claustrophobia. Calm down, girl, you’re better equipped than most to survive down here. She started to whisper to herself to try to draw back some of her old courage in the darkness; she’d give it a few more minutes of walking, then if the sounds grew more distant she’d double back. For now, though, she’d go on a bit further and see if there were other exits she could use.

Alex and Aimee moved on at a jog.

“We’ve got to go back. Wait! Please, we have to go back.” Matt had stopped dead and was gasping for breath.

Alex looked at Matt and shook his head wearily. Matt rushed at him and grabbed his arm, intending to drag him back down the tunnel the way they had just come. Matt might as well have tried to move a stone pillar. Alex gently reached out and took Matt by the upper arms. “We can’t fight it in there. We have to stay ahead of it for now. She’ll be OK as long as she keeps moving. We’ll pick up her trail later on, I promise.”

Matt sank to the ground and covered his face with his hands. “She was scared, so scared, and now she’s alone in the dark.” He lowered his hands and turned one over. There was a faint red chalk outline of a heart, now nearly erased.

Aimee sat next to him and put her arm around him. “We’re all scared, Matt, but we’ve got to stay alive so we can find her.”

Matt let out a long, exhausted and shuddering breath. “I can tell you one thing, I won’t be going anywhere dark or cold for my next vacation.”

“Why, a bit too quiet for you? Perhaps you can go caving with Monica on your honeymoon,” said Aimee.

Matt smiled briefly and then looked towards the ceiling as though he was trying to see the blue sky above them. In his mind’s eye he could see Monica by herself in the darkness; she called to him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Let’s go.” Alex moved them on again.

Twenty-eight

Private First Class Dan Everson entered Major Jack Hammerson’s office at a run. “Sir, we’ve received a coded call signature from the Arcadian.”

The Hammer leapt to his feet. The pencil he had been writing with disintegrated into splinters in his large hand. His eyes bored into the young private. “Where and when,” he said as he exploded around his desk.