Survive the Night (15 page)

THE CREATURE MOVES CLOSER. MUSCLE CONSTRICTS
around me, squeezing the air from my chest. Bright lights blossom in front of my eyes, warning me that I'm about to lose consciousness. I struggle, but the
thing
only squeezes me tighter. The water around me shifts as the creature stretches its jaws. I brace myself to feel teeth ripping into my skin . . .

Suddenly I'm yanked to the side of the tunnel and dragged, gasping, to the surface of the water. Sam's face is the first thing I see. Beads of water cling to his hair and lips, and his skin looks pale. I realize he jumped in after me.

Something slithers past us. The water ripples. I curl my fingers around Sam's sopping wet shirt.

“We have to get out.” I gasp, my throat still raw from choking. Pain roars through my leg and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with nausea and exhaustion. My eyelids flicker.

“Casey!” Sam yells. He holds me against his chest with one arm and pulls us toward the wall with the other. He collapses against the ledge, gasping for breath.

“Help her,” he moans. Shana plunges her arms into the water and wraps her fingers around my slippery wrists. I dig my toes into the side of the wall and start to climb.

Something curls around my ankle. I grit my teeth and kick the side of the wall, ignoring the pain that shoots up my shin. It recoils and releases me, and I scramble back onto the ledge.

My injured leg flops beside me, useless. I'm afraid to move it, worried it will send another wave of pain through my body. Sam clings to the side of the ledge, still half submerged in the water. His eyelids flicker closed, and his jaw clenches.

“Sam!” I grab Sam's arms, and his eyes shoot back open. I pull, trying to drag him up onto the platform with me, but he's too heavy. “Get out of the water! Hurry!”

“I'm coming,” he says, but he moves too slowly. I glance from his face to the water behind him. The surface is still, but I think I see something dark twisting below.

“Hurry,” I murmur, my eyes following the shadows. Sam lifts his body out of the water, groaning as he shifts all his weight to his arms. His T-shirt clings to the muscles in his biceps. He pulls one knee up and props it against the ledge, his other leg still dangling in the pool.

Something flickers in the corner of my eye. I flinch and look around, but there's nothing there. My chest tightens.

“Sam,” I hiss, grabbing for his shoulder. Shana takes his other arm and starts to pull.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” he mutters, easing the rest of his body onto the ledge. He pulls his other leg out of the water. I breathe a sigh of relief and collapse back against the wall.
Thank God.

“I saw it,” I say in a strange, strained voice. Now the surface is still, but I remember the feel of tentacles sliding over my back. “The monster. It's down there.”

Waiting for us
, I think.

“I know,” Sam says. His jaw tightens. “I saw it, too.”

Shana swears beneath her breath. “But you got out,” she says. “You're both okay.”

Sam meets my eye. “We were lucky,” he says.

I press my lips together and nod. I'm more worried about my leg. I tear the ripped fabric of my jeans and press my fingers into the skin around my knee, finding the edges of my kneecap. It's swollen and tender, and a purple bruise blossoms over my skin. I slip a hand under my calf and gently reposition it so my leg stretches out beside me instead of dangling into the water. I inhale, then carefully push myself up onto my good knee, trying to pull the other leg beneath my body.

A sharp knife of pain slices through my knee and up my thigh. Tears spring to my eyes.

“
Shit
.” I lean back against the wall. I try to focus on breathing, but the pain overwhelms me. I dig my fingers into the concrete and try not to scream.

“Casey?” Sam crouches beside me. “Casey, look at me.”

I ease my eyes back open and find Sam's face. Pain throbs below my knee like a second heart. Sam studies my leg beneath my clinging, drenched jeans. He lightly touches his thumb along the muscles and bones.

“Does this hurt?” He finds the edges between my kneecap and shin and presses down. White-hot, blinding pain tears through my leg. It feels like someone wedged a fork under my kneecap and popped it off. I scream and yank away from Sam. I almost fall into the water again, but Shana grabs my arm, steadying me.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Shana hisses at Sam.

“I had to see if she could put weight on it,” Sam says.

“It's pretty obvious that she can't put weight on it!” Shana's voice sounds annoyed, but her eyes are wide with fear. She shakes her head and mutters, “Jesus.”

“I don't think I can stand,” I explain once the pain has subsided a little. “I can barely move.”

I look down the tunnel. The ladder is still about fifty feet down and all the way on the other wall. The tunnel's only a yard or two across and not even that deep, but it might as well be the size of a football field. I won't make it two feet with my leg like this.

The water swells and a line ripples down the length of the tunnel. Fear climbs my throat. I scoot away from the side of the ledge and press my back against the wall. The ripple vanishes.

“You can't stay down here,” Sam says.

I watch the water for movement, but the surface stays still. The thought of staying down here for even one more second is enough to make me want to curl up into a ball and cry. But it's the only way.

“You two need to go and get help,” I say. “You can come back for me.”

“I'll carry you,” Sam says.

“I'll just slow you down!”

“We aren't leaving you here with that
thing
,” Sam shouts.

I open my mouth and then close it. I'm too tired to argue with them. For a moment none of us speaks. Water drips from the ceiling.

“It's settled, then,” Sam says. He pushes himself to his feet and groans, leaning against the wall for support. His breathing sounds ragged.

“You're hurt,” I say. Sam shakes his head.

“Pulled a muscle,” he says, straightening. “It's nothing.”

“Let me see.” I grab the corner of his T-shirt and pull him toward me before he can protest. Something dark and warm stains the back.

“It's blood,” I say, my voice trembling. I touch Sam's back and he flinches.

“It's just a scratch,” he says, pulling away. “I'll be okay.”

“That didn't look like a scratch!” I repeat.

“It's fine. We'll deal with it when we're out of here, okay?” Sam grabs my hands and squeezes. He tries to look reassuring, but I can see the pain tugging at the corners of his eyes and pinching his mouth. He's right, though. We can't do anything about it in here.

“Okay,” I say. “Let's get out of here.”

Shana stares out over the water. “You two should go first.”

Sam crouches next to me and slides his arms around my waist. I clench my hands at the base of his neck. He stands, pulling me up to one foot. He cringes.

“Sam?” I loosen my grip around his neck and stumble backward, automatically setting my injured leg down to steady myself. Another wave of pain washes over me.

Sam grits his teeth through his own pain. His arms tighten around me. “Casey, stay with me, okay?”

I nod. I need to be strong. I can do this. I wrap my arms around Sam's neck, and he lowers both of us into the pool.

I shiver as the water creeps up my legs and weighs down my jeans. The instant the cold hits me, a chill I can't shake spreads through my body. That thing is down here with us. I imagine tentacles coiling around our bodies and long, curved claws darting at our skin.

Sam pushes off from the wall. I wind my arms around his shoulders, clinging to his back. We glide over the surface of the pool, and I remember him telling me that his dad had a house up by the lake, and that he used to swim there every summer.

I think of that story as I watch his arms slice through the water, propelling us forward. We make it across the tunnel in just three quick strokes. He reaches for the ladder, and I hear clanking metal as he wraps his fingers around the rungs. I tighten my arms around his neck. Sam pulls us out of the pool. Water drips from my clothes and my hair, and I shiver where the cool tunnel air hits me. We did it. We're across.

Something splashes behind me, and I flinch before realizing Shana must've leapt into the water, too. I blink and try to find her in the pool. I see Shana's head duck below the water, and she disappears into the blackness.

I pinch the inside of my palms to keep from passing out. I refuse to be dead weight, even if Sam is carrying me.

“Shana,” I call as we climb farther up the ladder. But she's still below the water, and she doesn't answer. I tighten my grip around Sam's neck. He grunts, and I feel a twinge of guilt, realizing how hard this must be for him. The blood on his back feels warm against my chest.

“Does it hurt?” I ask. Sam's quiet for a moment. His hands slap against metal as he pulls us up another rung.

“Nothing I can't handle,” he says.

He climbs higher and higher. The manhole cover is directly above us. If I let go of Sam's neck and stretched my arm above me, I could graze it with the tips of my fingers.

Shana still hasn't broken the surface of the water below us.

“Sam, wait,” I say. “Shana's still down there.”

“I'm not slowing down, Case.” He climbs one more rung. Then another. I stare at the water, my heart pounding. The surface stays still.

“Sam . . .” I say again. We climb up another rung, but this time Sam pauses, his breathing heavy. He grits his teeth together and reaches for the rung above us.

Shana bursts from the water below, gasping. She grabs the rungs and pulls herself out of the water, making the ladder shake.

“Keep going!” she shouts. She climbs quickly—barely tightening her fingers before she pulls herself up to the next rung. Then, halfway up the ladder, her hand slips.

“Shana!” I scream. She gropes at the air, swaying backward. Just when I think she's going to fall, she lunges forward, wrapping an arm around the ladder. I exhale.

“Be careful,” I say. She nods, giving me a wobbly grin.

“Don't worry,” she says. “I'm coming.”

“Just two more,” Sam says, groaning. I nod, darkness flickering at the corners of my eyes. My arms loosen around Sam's neck.

“Casey!” Shana shouts. She shakes the ladder, and I jolt awake, tightening my grip again.

Sam pulls us up the last rung and reaches for the manhole cover above his head. I hold my breath, expecting this one to be stuck, too. Metal scrapes against metal, and a circle of blue appears above me. Fresh air rolls into the tunnel.

I close my eyes, relishing the light hitting my cheeks. The air is clear and cool. It smells like grass instead of urine and sweat. The fear I've been carrying all night drains out of my shoulders.

Sam crawls out of the manhole and collapses onto the ground. I roll off him. Grass tickles my cheek and the sun beats against my face. A line of sweat forms below my hair.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, pressing my face into the grass. “We're out. We're
finally
out.”

Sam rolls onto his back, smiling at me. We seem to be in some sort of park. Water glistens in the distance, and I hear leaves rustle as wind breezes past.

I conjure up my last bit of energy and prop myself onto my elbows, army-crawling back to the manhole. I squint down, but the sudden brightness makes it hard to see anything but black. I blink, and the shadows begin to separate.

Shana's only four rungs down. I exhale, relieved, and start to reach for her when a twitch on the far wall draws my attention. I narrow my eyes.

Daylight pours into the subway opening, slowly bringing the rest of the tunnel into view. Thick gray tentacles cling to the walls like vines. They crawl from the water and curl over moldy bricks, twitching when the breeze gusts past them. I stare, horrified.

Shana's too focused on the ladder to see them. I open my mouth to yell at her to hurry—then hesitate. The tentacles surround her on all sides. They swell and undulate over the bricks, claws curling over scales the color of oil.

They're too close. Any sudden movement, and they'll strike. I force myself to look away, trying to keep my face neutral.

“You're almost here,” I say, instead. My voice trembles. I stretch my hand toward Shana and she reaches for me. My fingertips graze her chipped, dirty nails.

“Casey,” she says, smiling her too-wide toddler smile. A tentacle unpeels from the wall and curls toward the back of her head.

Shana gropes for my hand. I hold my breath.

A tentacle whips out of the pool, spraying me with water as it twists into the air. Its gray scales look nearly black, and its claws glint in the sunlight.

“Shana!” I scream, but it moves too quickly. My best friend is still smiling when the tentacle wraps around her waist.

Claws flare out from the tentacle and tear the fabric of her shirt. Shana opens her mouth, and a wet gurgle bubbles from her lips. The claws dig into her flesh, shredding the skin on her arms.

She gropes for me, but I'm too far away to reach her. The monster wrenches her off the ladder and drags her down.

“No!” I scream. Shana crashes through the surface of the pool and disappears below the water.

MY SKIN STILL TINGLES WHERE HER NAIL GRAZED MY
finger. Just seconds ago, I was reaching for her hand. And now . . .

The water ripples, then goes still. Something white and ghostly flickers below the surface, and I imagine it's Shana's face. Hope rises in my chest. She's stronger than the others were. She'll fight this thing. I watch the water, waiting for Shana to burst through the surface, gasping.

But the pool stays calm. Bile clogs my throat. I pull my leg beneath me, cringing at the sudden ache, and drag myself onto the ladder. Shana's there. She's still alive, and she needs me.

The metal rungs dig into my palms, and the cold subway air envelops me. I take a deep breath, then tug my leg around and position my foot on the ladder. Bright, furious pain rushes over me. It's so intense that my vision swims in and out of focus. My hands go slack . . .

“Casey!” Before I know what's happening, Sam has his hand around my arm, and he's dragging me away from the ladder. My cheek hits the cold, wet grass.

“Shana!” I sob. I try to crawl back to the manhole, but Sam stops me.

“She's gone,” he says. He holds me by the shoulders to keep me from trying to crawl back to the tunnel. I try to pull away, but he holds tighter.

“Let me go!” I sob, pounding my fists against his chest. “I need to save her. I need to save her!”

The last of my energy drains away. I collapse against Sam's chest, tears blurring my eyes. Shana's giddy smile flashes through my head. I hiccup, and fresh sobs jolt through my body. I should have warned her about the tentacles. I should have tried harder to grab her hand.

Sam pushes the wet hair off my face and kisses me on the forehead. “It's okay. We're safe, Casey. You're safe.”

“Shana . . .” My voice gets caught in my throat. I huddle closer to Sam, taking comfort in the warmth of his chest beneath his damp T-shirt. Images force their way into my head: Aya's vacant eyes, Julie's bloodstained fingers. I weave my arms around Sam's neck, holding tight. Like I'm afraid he might disappear. His hands find the small of my back.

“It's okay,” he murmurs into my ear. “You're alive. You're safe. It's going to be okay.”

I'm still trembling when Sam tilts my head back and kisses me. Our lips move together, desperate and hungry. I kiss him so I don't have to think about the look on Woody's face when the tentacle tore through his chest, or Aya's bloodstained dress floating in the water where her legs should have been.

The sun warms my shoulders, and the grass tickles my bare feet. I feel Sam's heartbeat, his breath against my neck.

It's okay
, I think to myself.
I'm safe. It's going to be okay
. I press my lips against Sam's, harder, waiting for the memories to grow dim.

Sam's lips freeze on mine.

I jerk away. “What's wrong?”

Sam's eyes widen. His skin turns the color of ash.

“Casey . . . ?” Blood spurts from his mouth and oozes over his teeth and lips.

“Oh my God!” The voice doesn't sound like mine. Sam releases a choked gasp and doubles over, holding himself up with one hand. I grab his shoulder to steady him, and my hands start to shake. He coughs again, spraying the grass with blood, before collapsing onto my lap. A deep red stain pools at the base of his spine. Blood seeps through his T-shirt and spreads up his back. Tears spring to my eyes. I glance down at my own hands, horrified to see blood clinging to my fingertips.

“No.” I peel the T-shirt off his back, revealing a deep, ugly gash.

The wound slashes across Sam's spine. It's at least six inches wide, and it gapes open, revealing the raw meat of Sam's back, and bones poking through a thick layer of blood. The skin around the edges has already blackened.

“We need an ambulance,” I say. I dimly remember hearing that you have to apply pressure to keep a wound from bleeding out. I press both hands against Sam's back. He cringes, and fresh blood oozes through my fingers.

“Casey.” Sam pushes me away. His eyes have a cloudy cast to them. He frowns. “I can't see you.”

“Sam?” My voice cracks. “Sam, I'm going to go get help.”

“Don't.” His fingers enclose my wrist. He's barely touching me, but it feels like every single bone in my body breaks at the same time. I squeeze his fingers.

“Sam . . .” I whisper.

He gives me a lopsided grin. “Did . . . did I tell you Woody's going to let me crash in his apartment . . . after graduation?” He stares at something behind me, something he doesn't seem to see.

“Sam,” I whisper. I touch his chin, turning his face so he'll look at me.

“He knows a guy . . . let us play on weekends.” Sam's voice gets weaker. I huddle closer, wondering if he still knows I'm here. Tears flood my eyes.

“Don't cry.” Sam tries to lift his hand and touch my cheek. He drops it halfway there, pain flashing across his face.

“Don't move,” I say. Sam's arm starts to shake, and he collapses back onto my lap. I sob, and brush the hair back from his face. “Sam!”

“You can come, too,” he mutters, eyes fluttering.

“No!” I say. “Look at me!”

Sam's eyes lose focus. His limbs go still.

“Sam!” I shake him, but he doesn't move. “Wake up!
Sam
. Don't leave me!”

Agony crashes over me. I gape down at Sam, a silent scream frozen on my face. Static buzzes in my ears, blocking out everything but his final words.

You can come, too
.

My arms start to tremble, and I collapse onto my dead boyfriend's chest. A ragged sob claws from my throat. A gust of air brushes over my skin, freezing the water still clinging to my arms and legs.

I burrow deeper into Sam, trying to ignore the chill that's already crept into his body.

“I want to come,” I whisper. His T-shirt is still wet, and it smells like sewer. But below that, it smells like Sam. My Sam. I grab handfuls of it in my fists and breathe it in. “Please don't leave me here.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something move toward me. I stiffen. It's just a jogger. He rounds the corner of the lake, hesitating when he sees me.

“Everything okay?” he calls. I open my mouth, but I can't speak. The black is pulling at the edges of my senses. It won't be long before I fall unconscious. I know I should fight to stay awake, but I can't fight anymore. There's no one left to fight for.

I lower myself to Sam's chest and finally let myself rest.