Cam nodded again, but a smile lifted his lips. He didn’t demand an apology for the last twenty years of my dad being an ass to him; he simply accepted that Dad knew he was wrong.

I took his hand, and we waved to Dad as he took the track switch and headed back to the mine’s entrance.

The lights were on, but the smells, the sounds… They were all the same.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Cam suggested gently as we started walking.

“This way,” Art said at a random offshoot.

“Dad…” Cam said. “I don’t remember coming this way or taking any downhill path until I found that shaft.”

“That’s because you took the long way. I told your little Rose how to find the shortcut.” He sounded like he was slipping into an episode, but his eyes were clear and certain.

“What shortcut?”

“It was a ventilation shaft. What did you think it was ventilating? Look, you can trust me or not. I’m telling you it’s this way.” Art turned and started walking.

“This should be a great story to tell at my funeral,” Gideon muttered.

“Okay, I guess we’ll trust you,” Cam said, then took my hand and followed his dad.

“How far do you think it is?” Gideon asked.

“Probably ten minutes if you stop whining and start walking,” Art chided.

Cam smiled and shot Gid a knowing look over his shoulder.

The tunnel narrowed, and we passed the demarcation line of where it had been reinforced. The lighting ended, leaving us with only our headlamps as the tunnel began a steep descent into the mountain. The beams that supported the sides and roof were mostly intact, but there were a couple I had to climb over.

“Here’s where it starts to get sporty,” Art said with a grin.

Starts? I sucked a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, then trudged on into my personal hell, praying we’d find Rose in time…or at all.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Camden

We trudged down a tunnel so narrow, I could have touched both sides if I stretched my arms wide. The grade was steep, and bits of loose gravel slid where we stepped, but at least the floor was dry.

“Dad, are you sure this is the way?” I asked, my fear growing every minute that his mind would slip.

“I’m as sure as I can be. I know today is July fourth, you’re Camden, and you’re holding on pretty damn tight to Willow Bradley, so I’m lucid, if that’s what you’re asking.” He didn’t even look back, just kept moving down the dirt-covered floor.