Ground yourself . . . Another cascade of memories fell.

A thousand bees were stinging my leg. I opened my eyes. In front of me, on the ground, were the remains of the killer. I jerked my gaze in the other direction. My husband lay in the distance. Nonononono!

The bees were stinging less. The world was starting to retreat. Fight this.

It took all my strength to push to a seated position so I could see. A red lake was forming around my lower leg. My brain felt like it was filled with growing black tar. Tourniquet. I unfastened my belt and looped it around my thigh, screaming with the pain. The darkness returned.

I had no idea how much time passed before I regained consciousness. Was I still in the ebony blackness of an abyss, or on the lawn lying next to the killer?

Holly pressed against me. I stroked her head and sat up. I have to fight this. The counselors at Clan Firinn had warned me I could go into a dissociative fugue state to escape from the memories, the trauma. I could become confused, lose my identity, wander aimlessly. We’d never get out of here. Ground yourself.

“Holly, Maverick, here’s the plan.” My voice was high-pitched and shaky. “You got in here, so you’ll have to lead us out. No voting on this.” The earth throbbed slightly and the stench grew. Sulfur.

“We need to move as quickly as possible ’cause it stinks, in case you hadn’t noticed. And getting hotter if that’s possible.”

Something had triggered that second flashback episode. It occurred when I moved my body. Cautiously I felt around. Rock wall to my right. My voice bounced as if in a small space. Holly was on my left. Beyond Holly? Reaching out, I felt nothing. I dropped my arm and touched the ground. Dirt and . . . metal? My fingers explored the object. Rounded top with a lip under two sides. Long—I couldn’t find an end to it. A rail? Railroad? That didn’t make sense. Could we be in a railroad tunnel? Would a train be coming through soon?

No. The rock wall was within arm’s length. A train couldn’t fit in here. Something smaller. More like a mine cart.

“Good news. Maybe. I think we’re inside an old mine. To get out of here, we just need to follow the rails. I’m sure you two can figure out which direction.”

I started to stand, then froze. A drop of sweat slithered down my forehead. Slowly I ran my hand down my leg. My prosthesis was gone.

I clapped my hands over the scream. Stop, stop, stop . . . No . . . Again the memories flooded my brain.