Hide and Seek

caught my eye. Most of what we were crawling through was a grayish

black. But this was white. Sandstone or something. Flecked with red.

Tiny dots of red no bigger than the head of a pin.

Glistening.

I put my finger to it and it scraped away. It was thick and moist and

cold. Blood. I looked closer at the area directly ahead of and to the

sides of me.

The wall was sprayed with it. A fine dusting of Casey's blood. Of the

life in her.

On the ground, about an inch from my left hand, I saw a small pool of

it the size of a quarter.

From now on, I thought, we'd have a trail to follow. We'd be crawling

through Casey's blood. Abstract it.

Get it away from you. That's it. Let only the coldness in, the

anger.

"What is it?" "Blood here." "Oh my god."

"Only a little. Not too bad."

I wouldn't have bought it myself. And neither did he.

"We'll get him, Steve. I'm going to put this pitchfork right up his

ass."

We weren't careless. We moved slowly along those fifteen feet or so to

that second blind turning, slowly and carefully, under control.

I kept wondering why none of us had heard her scream. It must have

happened very quickly. Either that or for some reason it had been

impossible to scream. But there should have been something, some

warning. I scanned the walls, looking for more blood. There hadn't

been enough of it to indicate a neck wound. So what had silenced

her?

Why did you come here, Casey? You must have smelled the death inside.

I did. How could you have done this to yourself, to me, to all of

us?

Nothing you've told me can explain this thing to me. No rape, no

seduction, no death, no guilt. You must have known. Suspected at

least. Why fling your life around like a pocketful of change? It