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Back Gallows Hill Save as PDF
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Margot put her back to the wall, breathing in short, sharp gasps.

How long would it take someone to notice she was missing? How long until someone came near the hole she’d fallen into?

The answer was the same for both questions: tomorrow, when Kant returned.

If he visited the house to check on her. If he didn’t extend his trip, like Margot had suggested. If, if, if.

No. We have another option.

The tunnels continued through the hill, and their entrances would too. She couldn’t climb out through this one, but others might be easier to get out of. Like the stone steps in the tunnel Kant and Andrew had shown her the day before.

She just needed to keep walking until she found an exit.

20

It’s that simple. Just keep walking.

Margot faced the tunnel that would lead down the hill. The dark was immense, intense. It was like looking down a very long, narrow grave. She could taste the soil in her throat.

Just walk.

She did, scraping one foot forward and shuddering as she passed beyond where the column of natural light could reach.

Her skin crawled. Her breath hitched. It occurred to her that her phobia of underground spaces might have been spawned in one of these very passageways. Tightly enclosed areas had never fazed her too much. Only when they were enclosed belowground. Exactly like this tunnel.

“It’s fine. You’re okay.” Her nerves were raw. Every instinct in her body begged her to turn around, to return to the narrow beam of light and the view of the sky. Only, she knew what would happen then. She’d sit, huddled and ashamed, in the cold dirt while she waited for someone to find her.

And that might not be anytime soon.

If she could only keep walking, she’d find a way out. She could hold her fear under control. She had to.

They were only tunnels. They couldn’t hurt her.

Stones and wood had been used to support the structure in areas, but they were irregular, their placement suggesting spur-of-the-moment decisions, rather than a plan, or sporadic repairs.

In between them, the dirt was crumbling and moist. Clumps of it had fallen from the ceiling to create mounds on the floor, and Margot had to duck her head as she scrambled over them. In other areas, roots had grown through the soil. They hung in thick clumps, stiff and uncomfortably warm under her touch.

Her phone’s light caught the edges of a turnoff. She hesitated in the opening, her heart running too fast, as she tried to see down its length. She couldn’t make out much. The phone was too bright to let her eyes adjust to the gloom but not strong enough to travel more than ten feet at a stretch.