It was clammy and cold, nearly freezing. His crotch shrank at the mere touch. And it was strong. It jerked his arm further into the hole, shoulder deep, banging his face against the wall and shaking the flashlight from his grasp. His neck was bent at an angle against the brick till he could barely breath or cry out, and still the pressure grew. All he could manage was a gasp.

Then the last of the Coleman’s fuel burned up and the lamp winked out.

4

Chapter Four

Del couldn’t be sure how long he stood there. Nor could he tell which direction the stairs were in or the walls or even Bart for that matter. He was lost in the blackness. It disoriented him, tilted the floor and turned the world on its side and made him fight to stay on his feet. “C’mon, Bart, this ain’t funny, Where are you? Bart?”

There was an uncharacteristic whimper in reply. “Oh, shit, something’s got me, oh shit, oh shit. . . .”

“Hang on, Bart. Just hang on. Dammit, where’s the flashlight?!” He flailed his fists helplessly at the claustrophobic darkness as if it were a tangible thing. There was a whimper rising in his own throat but he forced it down. Not now. You can’t be scared now. He dropped onto his hands and knees and crawled along the rough stone floor, fighting his tears back. “Where’s the flashlight!” His knees were bruised from the rubble, and something ragged cut his palm and made him cry out in pain. But he wouldn’t stop. Don’t stop! Keep looking! He was starting to cry when his hand finally closed around something long and thin and smooth. But the rat connected to it hissed not a foot from his face and he slung it away with a shriek. “I can’t find it,” he sobbed. “Bart, I can’t find it!”

“Goddamn it, Del,” came a pained voice, gasping and full of tears, “gimme a fuckin’ hand!”

“I’m trying!” He scrambled across the floor on his knees, feeling about in earnest, this time determined to strangle any rat that crossed his path. He brushed against Bart’s tennis shoe, then felt along his trouser leg. It’s got to be right around here somewhere, this is where he dropped it just before the lights . . . “Oh, shit, Del . . .”

His hand found cool metal.

“Got it!” He thumb-stabbed the rubber switch and sprayed the walls with a flash of lightning, then hit it again and this time the bulb stayed on.

Bart was in the same position as before, jammed up against the hole in the wall, his face pressed to the stone and distorted by fear. He tried pulling his arm free but he was too off balance and panic had sapped his strength. Tears were streaming through the dust on his face.