Paper Dolls (2 page)

A grey light wavered near the middle of the water. Not light exactly—more like a reflection of light.

It was a figure, a girl, standing on the water. She turned to me. She wore a yellow dress—a dark stain on the bodice. Her waves of hair were stringy, unbrushed.

“Prudence.” The name slipped from my tongue.

She gave a single nod.

Her hair fell down the small of her back as she lifted her head back and pointed upwards. My gaze travelled up the rock wall. There was a strange, crisscrossed pattern in the rock. Was it some pattern left behind by cooled lava? I stared closely. The patterned parts were different to the rock—almost stony.

My stomach tightened. They were tree roots. Aged, but still, tree roots. That meant I had to be somewhere near the surface—didn’t it?

Prudence was gone.

Although she’d been there but a moment, I immediately felt the loss of her. But another presence edged in, a presence that was not Prudence.

I edged frantically around the walls of the cave, keeping to the shallows of the frigid black water. Stepping onto a ledge on the other side, I peered upwards.

Light—dim, inconstant. Was I imagining it? I snapped my torch off. The dim light still shone above.

Heaving myself up, I tried to reach the lowest of the tree roots. My legs were heavy, paining—I couldn’t make them move and lift me.

Something swam below the water’s surface, thrashing.

The rushing waterfall seemed almost to freeze, the water moving like it was being filmed in stop-motion. The water rose in jagged shapes when it hit the pool below. In a way I’d never seen water do.

I lunged at the tree root again, my feet slipping along its wet edges.

Something rose behind me.

I pulled myself up to the next root, treading along it with shaking legs.

I whipped my head around before jumping to the adjacent root.

A flash of silvery scales in the recesses of the cave. A large unblinking eye. It turned to face me.

The serpent.

It watched me with diamond eyes, eyes like glass, eyes that knew me—had looked inside me. Centuries streamed through the cold gaze.

My mind bent inwards—turned on itself, my body immobile.

The serpent moved towards me in a blinding flash of silver, giant eyes cutting into my soul. Every nerve and vein of my body choked with her bitterness, her revenge—choked with the rage that had cooled into immeasurable hatred.

She slipped away into the black water. I sensed her icy satisfaction at my fear. I searched the cave from side to side, my chest squeezing painfully.

Then she was there. I threw my back against the wall, a scream fleeing from my throat.

The open jaw filled the air, monstrously large. It smashed against the wall, meshing itself in the roots of the tree. The tree roots ripped away, pulled down by the serpent as it dove down into the water.

I leapt from tree root to rock ledge. An ear-splitting crashing sounded above. A wall of wood steam-trained past me. The entire tree coming down. Straight down. Branches whipped by my face. Any second, I'd be torn downwards with the tree. Far above, ground filled in as the top of the tree was drawn down. I was being entombed.

There was a chance—one chance—to jump from the falling tree over to a ledge.

It was death to try.

It was death not to try.

With outstretched arms, I leapt to a thick branch. My body was taken down at terrifying speed. Flung hard through the waterfall, against the wall.

Sliding downwards, I desperately grappled a ledge with my arms and legs. And clung there as the tops of the tree were wrenched deep underground.

Through a curtain of water, I watched the ground above being constructed at a terrifying pace. Dirt swirled in the open spaces. Desperately, I heaved myself upwards along the jutting ledges.

She was coming back. I could feel her. A presence—palpable, ancient.

The waterfall rushed past my body, almost sending me into freefall. I gripped a wet tree root, my gloves ripped and hands bleeding. The only way up was through the surging water. Taking a lungful of air, I climbed up into the stream, letting the icy water drown me. My heavy clothing dragged me backwards. I tugged at the zipper of my jacket, allowing the stream to tear the jacket away.

The water wrapped itself around me in a whirlpool. I threaded my arms through the tree roots. The serpent was willing the waterfall into a vortex, trying to send me plummeting down.

My lungs hurt, my brain screamed for oxygen.

Water spiraled downwards, leaving the river bottom above dry. Blowing out a lungful of stale air, I clawed my way up. I rose, standing on the dry river bottom. I squinted in the world of light, breathed in pale-colored air—stunned at the sight of forest and sky.

A wall of water crashed along the riverbed as the river reclaimed itself. My body was tossed out onto hard ground.

I loped away, raw panic winding along my spine—not knowing which way I was running.

I yelled. Yelled into the trees. Fear, horror, grief, sorrow, relief—all of it cut through me.

Sun fell on me, weak but intense and beautiful. I gloated on the yellowish of it, the depth of color, gazing upwards at the green leaves and snatches of pale blue sky through the branches.

I tore the beanie and balaclava from my face—then peeled off the clothing and wetsuit. They slid from my body like cold fish skin.

I stepped from the socks and shoes, kicking them into the forest.

My soaked slip stuck to me as I blundered forward.

Cassie, you know some things about the forest
, I told myself. Think—what kind of trees are here? I stared about me. Not alpine. I was lower than that. Not sub-tropical. Just fairly ordinary-looking trees and shrubs. Mountain peaks rose in the distance. I was no longer on Devils Hole. I could be close to the bottom of the mountains.

I followed the river as it flowed downwards. I walked on and on. There were no campers by the river, no signs anyone had been here.

The river flattened and widened out, running thinly over gray pebbles. A high rock ledge spanned the river ahead. I stopped. I’d have to climb around and onto that. I had no strength left.

A small head appeared over the edge of the platform. A child—a girl—wriggled down onto her stomach, and threw a fistful of leaves down. The leaves swirled down to the water.

She was dressed in normal clothes—a light green jumper and pink track pants. A cry caught in my throat.

Catching sight of me, she stared at me with curious eyes for a moment—then waved.

I waved back.

A smiling woman appeared on the rock ledge, a camcorder in her hand as she filmed the girl. The woman’s smile dropped as she looked to the river below. Her hand reached to her mouth.

I tried to speak, but I had no voice.

Two more figures appeared on the ledge—a man and a pudgy boy.

They stared open-mouthed at me.

I gazed down at myself. The side of my slip was tattered—blood soaking wetly into the material. The scrape on the rock had cut deeper than I’d realized. My limbs were bruised green and purple. The boy stared in horror at my face, shielding himself from the sight of me with his hand. I remembered then—the doll makeup. It would be smeared all over my face.

Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering.

The man held up two hands, indicating for me to stop. “We’ll get you help.” He turned back to the woman. “Kate—get the kids in the car.”

The woman reached for the little girl’s hand—confusion in her eyes. “But—”

“Just get them out of here—could be dangerous. We don’t have to get mixed up in it. We’ll get the police.”

He stared past me—to the woods beyond. He didn’t give me another glance as he pulled the boy away. The woman and girl left—the girl looking back over her shoulder at me.

I struggled up and around to the ledge, following after them like a stray dog. A car roared away down at the road. A road meant I was close to help. But some of the roads around here could be empty of cars all day.

A child’s toy had been left behind on the rock—a small purple teddy-bear—and a cane picnic basket. There was nothing to do but walk along the road until I could flag down a car.

Strength left my legs, my body. I could no longer feel anything.

A cold weight passed through me.

A thick material was pulled over me.

“She’s alive.”

A voice—human. Deep.

“Vital signs are okay.”

Pale sunlight dashed over my eyes as I opened them. People in blue and white clothing swarmed around me. A silver blanket covered me.

Sets of hands lifted me. I was carried through the air.

A face moved in front of mine. Mom’s dark eyes.

“Move back please.” A strident male voice.

I stared about me. Police and ambulance officers stood around me. I was on a stretcher, being put into the back of an ambulance.

I gripped mom’s arm, not allowing them to close the ambulance door. I wanted to tell her to make them stop, but my throat seized up.

I held up my hands and tried to mimic writing on a piece of paper.

“Cassie, baby. I can’t believe it’s you. I thought I’d never—”Her eyes were bright with tears. “You have to go now. You have to get checked at the hospital. It’s okay—I’m here. All the way.”

A light clamp was placed on one of my fingers, and a needle inserted on the top of my other hand. A paramedic fitted a tube into my hand, and a bag of fluid was hung above my head.

“Just one more needle, stay calm,” someone said.

Cold liquid was squirted on my arm and side, and a needle jabbed me. Things were being inserted on my side—clips? Then bandages wrapped around my arm and torso. I was naked underneath the blanket—my wet slip and underwear gone—when did that happen?

“Almost ready to go,” they said.

I tried to get up. I couldn’t let myself be taken to the hospital—I needed to bring help to the underground. A crushing weakness claimed my body.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” The soothing voice of one of the paramedics filled my ears. “You’ve been given painkillers—they’ll kick in soon and help you relax.”

Shaking my head as hard as I could, I jabbed a finger at the palm of my hand again. I looked pleadingly at my mother.

Mom bent her head back to the ambulance crew. “She wants pen and paper.”

“Time for that later,” a paramedic told her. “She has hypothermia. We need to get her off for treatment.”

Digging in her bag, mom held up a hand. “It’s been weeks since I’ve heard my daughter’s voice. I’m not going to silence her now.”

I grabbed the pen and paper my mother handed me. My fingers refused to work, so I curled a fist around the pen.

5 underground. Rescue!!!

I pressed the pen so hard it tore the page.

Mom’s eyes were huge as she took the paper and read it. Wordlessly, she handed the paper to a police officer.

The officer’s face paled. “Are they in immediate danger?”

I nodded.

The officer turned and shouted a jumble of words.

A plainclothed man strode up, staring down at me. “Cassandra, Do you remember me? Detective Martin Kalassi. Who are the others? Can you write their names?”

He handed me a notepad.

I wrote:

Aisha

Molly

Frances

Sophronia

Ethan

I didn’t know the real name of the Indian girl—so I couldn’t give it. But I couldn’t leave her out—I couldn’t leave any one of them out. None of the living, anyway. Not even... Ethan.

The detective’s eyes widened. “All alive?”

Nodding, I started scrawling again.

Under Fiveash house. Take me there!!

“The Fiveash house?” he puzzled. “He has another basement we didn’t find?”

I shook my head, trying to shoot him a pleading look.
Just trust me
.

Detective Kalassi raised his thick eyebrows at a paramedic. “Can she be stabilized enough to be transported? We may need her someplace else.”

“Where to?” asked the paramedic.

“The top of Devils Hole.”

She crossed her arms. “If you get us a chopper—set up with full gear.”

“We’re going to need a few of those, by the sound of it,” he said grimly.

Detective stepped over to confer with police.

I felt myself graying out again—my head growing fuzzy. I had to tell them one more thing. But I couldn’t remember it. It was like they’d given me Jessamine’s tea and my mind was slowly stepping downwards.

I struggled to sit up on the stretcher—still wrapped in the thermal blanket. Everything ached.

I smiled thinly as a paramedic took the IV line from my arm. She bent her pinched, concerned face down to mine. “Tell us if you feel faint, or anything else.”

“Okay,” I said hoarsely.

“And try not to use that voice of yours too much. You’ll lose it for days if it’s strained any further.”

I nodded at her obediently. I was handed a small carton and a straw—a type of milky energy drink.

“Sip it slowly,” she instructed. “Like one sip every minute. If you start to feel bad—stop.”

I pretended to take a small sip—but instead drew the thick liquid down in gulps. I felt my body gearing up again, craving food.

An arm moved around me and drew me in close. My mother pressed her face to my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t you be sorry,” she said firmly. “Not ever.” Her eyes held back pain as she gazed at me.

The night air breezed around my face. A cool mildness saturated the air.