Step by step. Don't look back. Don't stop.
Fear laced Boris's voice. "Just leave me here. You both won't survive if—"
"Shut the fuck up." I pushed through the pain.
However, Jean-Pierre didn't say anything. Had he been considering the option to leave him? If he were, I would knock his ass out.
We stay together. Enough motherfuckers have died.
The storm didn't let up. We moved silently, rushing forward through this massive forest.
None of us glanced back. Perhaps, we were all too scared.
Wind howled and whipped all around. Rain hammered down, splattering off of my face until my skin was slick, turning me into a moving puddle. Boris’s waist became slippery.
Trees whipped and bent, small branches snapping off and flying through the air in the direction of the wind. Leaves got caught up in the storm, tiny objects tossed like confetti on a parade float.
As the minutes passed, I was drenched from head to toe. Water dripped from my hair and clothes.
There was no road or opening to the woods in sight.
Please, don’t let me die in these stupid ass woods.
I took a step forward and the ground shifted under me. Or better yet. . .there was no ground. It must have been a big hole covered with a sheet that was coated in dirt and leaves.
“Ah!” I fell down into a pit.
Boris and Jean-Pierre followed me, screaming and yelling.
No. No.
I landed hard on my back, sinking into damp-puddled earth. Boris crashed to my side. Jean-Pierre tumbled after us.
“What the hell is this?” My body ached, but I didn’t think anything was broken. "Come on!!"
The air was heavy as it rushed over me, spiraling my stomach into knots. I blinked through the rain and gazed around this large pit that we’d fallen into.
The smell was putrid and foul--a mixture of death and rotting meat.
Jean-Pierre sat up, rubbing his back. “This isn’t good.”
“No fucking shit!” My head pounded. Rage exploded through me. "I can't get a goddamn break today!"
Jean-Pierre scanned the place. "This must be Timur's hole for anyone who runs away."
"Well you're just Sherlock fucking Holmes today." I glared. "Aren't you?"
Jean-Pierre frowned. "Calm down, Maxwell."
"Calm down?! Calm down?! You have me out here in these goddamn woods!"
He rose and started touching the rocky dirt walls of the pit. "Fighting each other will not solve anything."
"But it sure will make me feel good. Only you, Butcher. Only you. I thought Kazimir was an idiot, bombing everything. But he's just psychotic. You are an idiot."
Jean-Pierre pressed his hands flat against the dirt. "We need to find a way to get out of here."
"Once again," I clapped as rain fell on me. "You're just hitting us with knowledge today."
Boris's weak voice sounded. "Maxwell. . .don't argue with him."
Worried, I turned his way. “How’s that leg?”
"Painful." Boris struggled with sitting up. “I doubt I can run.”
My heartbeat sped up.
How are we going to get him out of here?
“Maxwell.” Jean-Pierre pointed behind me.
I looked.
Silent, two skeletons sat in the corner, wearing torn faded clothes and staring back at us with empty bone sockets. They stank of rot and decay.
Now I know where that smell is coming from.
Defeated, Boris lay back on the muddy ground. “We’re going to die here.”
“No. We’re not.” I gritted my teeth and looked up at the hole’s opening. The dark gaping hole hovered at least twenty feet above us, and was jagged around the edges.
Rain poured down on us. There were small streams falling down at the corners.
"This may be obvious too, but worth noting." Jean-Pierre pointed to one corner. "We were walking in a downward slant. This must be the rain trickling down the hill."
Boris got up to sitting position. "The hole is filling with water?"
Fuck.
A rising puddle formed around my legs. For now it was barely an inch. If the storm continued for several hours we would be swimming amongst the skeletons.
Or drowning.
Jean-Pierre looked up at the hole and then stared at me. Fear glazed over his eyes.
I frowned. “Do you know any operas or anything that can give information to get us the fuck out of here?”
“Unfortunatly, I don’t.” Sighing, he collapsed against the dirt wall behind him. “Boris may be right. We just may die in here.”
Sudden, deafening silence came.
We all must have been contemplating our possible oncoming deaths.
My heart ached. A cold emptiness rose within me.
The thought of dying here, in this cold, dark place was too much to bear. The only sound was our breathing and the hammering storm.
Jean-Pierre broke the silence. "So close."
I eyed him.
"It took forever to get her. A war. Fighting. Death. Kidnapping." He shut his eyes. "So close. All that. . .and I can't have her? I die here without her?"
I shook my head. “We don’t need that kind of talk right now.”
Boris closed his eyes. “If we don’t drown or freeze in this hole, then Timur will burn us alive.”