Blood on the Bayou (37 page)

“We’re not lovebirds,” I say, glad it’s easier to be heard in here. “And in case we die, I want you to know that I hate you. A lot.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. You left me hanging in there.”

“I didn’t leave you hanging.”

“Yes, you did!” I ignore Hitch’s narrow look. “I—”

“We’ll talk about it later, Red.” Tucker reaches for the ceiling, taking hold of the black wheel that operates the escape hatch and turning it to the left.

Or
trying
to turn it to the left. The wheel creaks a few inches and sticks, refusing to budge, even when Tucker intensifies his efforts, straining until veins stand out on his neck and arms and his face turns red. Beneath us, the ground continues to shake while the hallway behind us crumbles. Pretty soon we won’t be able to get out of here. We’ll be stuck. If that wheel won’t budge we’re as good as buried alive.

“Let me help.” I start forward, but Hitch is already in front of me.

“Superior arm strength,” he mumbles. He grabs hold and together he and Tucker wrench and grunt and wrench, but the wheel holds tight.

I stuff my panic back down into my stomach and focus. My tongue curls and my shoulders lift and for a second I think I feel magic stirring somewhere inside of me, but when I shift my attention to the wheel, it vanishes. I’m tapped out, and the only way I’m going to be of any help is with my hands.

I shove past Hitch to the other side of the wheel, standing on tiptoe to reach. Clearly this escape hatch was designed for the male of the species. I’m five eight—a good four or five inches taller than the average woman—and I can barely get my fists wrapped around the metal bar.

“Come on,” I shout, recognizing the hopeless look creeping onto Hitch’s face. He doesn’t think I can help. He thinks I’m too weak. “Let’s try again. All three of us.”

“It’s not going to work,” he says, backing away.
“The wheel must be stripped. We should get back out there before—”

“Just try! One more time! I—”

Another boom shakes the room and we all shuffle before regaining our balance. “Come on, Doc,” Tucker says. “Let her show you what she’s got.”

I glance at Tucker, torn between thanking him and telling him to go to hell. Instead I say, “On three.” I turn to Hitch, willing him to give this one last chance. After a second’s hesitation, his hands grip the wheel next to mine.

“One, two, three!” My last word becomes a groan. I throw my weight and squeeze with my fingers and tug until my shoulder blades burn and it feels like my neck is going to snap in two.

On either side of me, Hitch and Tucker strain and pull, but it seems all our grunting and groaning will be in vain until finally,
finally,
we’re rewarded with the tiniest
squawnk
as the wheel turns a quarter turn before sticking tight. Again.

“See there?” Tucker pants, propping his hands on his knees as he recovers. “Few more like that and we’ll—”

“We’re not going to get it open,” Hitch says.

“We might.” But I’m starting to agree with him. It didn’t feel like the wheel was going to budge an inch past where it stopped the last time.

“It’s worth one more try,” Tucker says. “If we get it open, we—”

“If we get it open we have no idea where we’re going to end up.” Hitch swipes a frustrated arm
across his forehead. “The way I came in was at the top of a two story staircase. This isn’t high enough to put us out above ground.”

“It might let out underwater,” I say. “Tucker and I came in through a—”

My words are cut off as the wheel turns and the room fills with metallic screeching. My hands fly to cover my ears. Tucker’s hand flies to a handgun shoved in the back of his pants. When he traded his rifle in for something smaller is unclear, but I’m glad he did. I’m sure we’ll want to be armed against whoever opens the hatch.

Unfortunately, Hitch and I aren’t going to be able to offer backup, aside from our fists and those won’t do any good unless this person decides to jump in and join us. Still, I try to look menacing as the wheel is pulled up into the ceiling, revealing a black opening two feet above.

“Annabelle Lee?” I pin the voice even before the yellowed eyes and sharp face appear in the hole above us. “What are you doing down there?”

“Amity!” I smile, hoping she’s forgotten the circumstances surrounding our last interaction. The one where she and her friend beat me up for presumably stealing Amity’s Breeze stash. She
was
rather messed up at the time.

Maybe she hates me less now that she’s sober.

“I should leave your ass down there to die,” she says, stabbing a finger in my direction.

Maybe not.

“You’re a fucking bitch.” She leans in far enough
for me to see she’s still wearing the regulation jumpsuit required for the infected at Keesler. “I heard what you’ve been doing to my brother, playing with his fucking mind when all he’s got is love for you. He’s a fine, beautiful-hearted, champion of a strong, proud black man and I—”

A hand touches her back. Amity breaks off, curling into herself, casting a feral look over her shoulder. “Get back off me, dick,” she snaps. “I ain’t got nothing for you.”

“It’s okay,” a deep voice answers. “It’s me. Abe.” Abe meets my eyes over Amity’s crouched form and does a double take. He seems surprised to see me, but not
that
surprised. Cane must have told Abe I was out in the bayou when he contacted him about taking over Amity’s pickup.

But how did he and Amity end up here? It doesn’t seem like enough time has passed for him to have picked her up at the docks and gotten this close to Donaldsonville. There must be some kind of transportation system in the tunnels, something other than the scooters Cane mentioned.

“What’s happening, Annabelle?” he asks. “We heard—”

“Cane might be in trouble. We need to find him. And there was an explosion.”

“We heard. We—”

“You know this guy?” Tucker interrupts, stepping closer, gun trained on the faces peering down at us.

“Abe Cooper. Cane’s big brother. He’s on the Donaldsonville police force.”

Tucker’s gun dips. “Can we trust him?”

“Of course,” I say, hoping I’m telling the truth.

“Good.” Tucker’s hand comes to my waist. “Let’s lift you up there and—”

“No, I’m not going without you and Hitch.” I shoo his hand away.

“I’ll lift him up, too,” he says. “He’s scrawny enough.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Then you’ll have no one to lift you, and it’s too far to jump.” I look up again, surveying the slick sides of the hole. Even if Tucker reaches the opening, there’s nothing to hold on to. His hands will slip right off the sides. “We need a rope or—”

“Bring a rope!” Abe shouts over his shoulder, my request spurring him into action. He’s going to help us.
Thank god
. I really didn’t want to add another name to the betrayal list. “There are people down here! We need to get them out before this area is compromised.”

“I won’t comprise with you.” Amity shrugs his hand off her back. “You can’t have none of my pussy.”

Abe turns back to her. “Amity, please. It’s your brother, Abe. You knew me just a few minutes ago. You remember?”

“Abe,” she repeats in a listless voice.

“Yes,” he says gently. “Your brother.”

“Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves. But he can’t help us now.” Amity starts to shiver, though the air is hot and thickening with smoke. The explosions must have caused a fire, one that’s filling the air with an acrid, toxic smell.

“There were chemicals down here, Abe,” I say. “They might be on fire. We need to—”

“I hear you.” He calls more urgently to whoever’s behind him. “Where’s the rope? There’s a chemical fire, we need to evacuate.” I hear some faint mumbling, but can’t understand what the person is saying. Abe must be able to, however. His forehead bunches and he shouts in his best police captain voice, “I don’t care about the damned goats.”

Goats?

I decide not to ask.

“Let the goats go, we’ve got
people
down here.” Abe sighs and lifts a hand in the air. “Just a second, Anna-belle. We’ll get y’all out. Then you can tell me what’s happened to Cane.”

“Thanks, Abe.” He disappears into the darkness. I wish I could feel relieved. But the smoke and the devil smell creeping into the room are only getting worse.

“Abe, Abe, Abe,” Amity repeats, rocking on her haunches at the edge of the hole, her movements so intense I worry we might soon have one more person in the pit. “Where’s Abraham Lincoln when we
need
him? Why has he abandoned the people he promised to protect?” she asks, tears welling in her jaundiced eyes.

She seems sober, but she’s definitely not sane. The fairy venom coursing through her veins has already started to erode her neural pathways. For a second I think about telling her that Abraham Lincoln is dead, and that she shouldn’t take the abandonment personally, but decide that wouldn’t make her feel any better.

I bite my lip, and turn to check in with Tucker and Hitch. Tucker is leaning against the wall with arms crossed, gun still drawn, but partially hidden behind one bicep, looking cautiously optimistic about the rescue. Hitch is lingering near the rubble-blocked entrance to the safe room looking concerned.

Very,
very
concerned.

“What’s wrong?” I walk over to hover near his elbow.

“You see that?” He points out into the hall. Even in the dim light, I can see the green-tinged mist creeping between the rocks like an evil spirit rising from the grave.

“What is it?”

He takes a step back, guiding me away from the doorway with one outstretched arm. “While I was looking through the files, I saw something about a Fey mist.”

“Like a flu mist?”

“Right,” he says, “But instead of vaccinating . . .”

“It infects,” I finish. My fingers find his forearm and squeeze, as if I can keep him safe from the foul green air if I hold on tightly enough. “So if you breathe any of that—”

“I’ll be infected,” he says with surprising calm. “If I’m anything like the rest of my family, I’ll be dead within a few minutes.”

I
whip my head around. “Hurry, Abe! Hurry! There’s—”

I almost blurt out that there’s a venom-infection biohazard floating around down here, but stop myself at the last second. Abe isn’t immune and I have no idea who else up there might be at risk. If they know what’s coming, they might run first and think about saving us never. For Tucker and me that wouldn’t be a problem and Amity’s already infected, but for Hitch . . .

The green mist surges forward, billowing close enough that I catch a whiff of fairy stink, the sickeningly sweet scent of a swarm in midfeed, when the poison is flowing from their gums.

“We can’t wait for the rope. Tucker, help me!” I pull Hitch toward the hole in the ceiling, where Amity is still rocking and shivering and muttering about Abraham Lincoln.

“What’s up?” Tucker asks. “What did you see?”

“The explosion must have released one of the bioweapons from the lab. It’s a mist that causes venom infection,” I whisper. “Anyone up there who’s not
immune needs to get away from here, but we need to get Hitch up with them first.”

Tucker nods and tucks his gun into the back of his jeans. He grips Hitch’s shoulder in a way that’s almost friendly. “Come on, brother.”

“I’m not your brother.”

“And I’m not her cousin, and she’s not your mama,” Tucker says. “I think we—”

“It’s here!” I hiss, bouncing on the balls of my feet as a wisp of green curls into the room. “Come on. Move! Now!”

Tucker bends his knees and makes a basket with his hands. “Step in and jump, we’ll push you up.”

“Promise me you’ll keep her safe.” Hitch stares Tucker in the eye, making no move toward safety.

“I swear it, man,” Tucker says, worry in his voice for the first time. “Now come on. Get out of here. I got better things to do than watch you die.”

With one last look at me—a look so full I couldn’t carry it in a bucket without spilling—Hitch braces himself on Tucker’s shoulders and steps into his hands. Tucker heaves him up. I move in to help push at his feet, but Amity’s arms are already around him, pulling him through the hole. He scrambles up beside her and, with a whispered word in her ear, somehow convinces her to let him take her arm and help her stand.

He glances down, but I wave him away with a frantic flap. “Go, go! Get them out! Leave a rope up there if you can. Tucker and I will be fine.”

Hitch nods and leads Amity away. She doesn’t say a word, still too lost in despair to gloat about her
nemesis being left in a pit filling with poison. A second later, I hear Hitch shout out a warning about the infection risk and my shoulders drop. He’s going to be safe. He’ll keep Abe safe.

“Now you gonna let me lift you up?” Tucker stands beside me, staring up into the dark as the voices above grow distant.

“Yeah. I’ll find a rope and come back for you,” I say. “Even though you’re a sorry excuse for a partner.”

“I was trying to disarm the bombs.” He lifts a booted foot, stirring the mist now swirling around our legs. “I stopped the timer for a few minutes, but it started back up again. I came looking for you, but you were talking to the Big Man.” His eyes flick to mine. “I’ve seen him mad plenty of times. He wasn’t going to hurt you, and I knew it’d be better for me if he didn’t know I was around.”