Ryker woke in a shiver. It was pitch-black and water flowed next to him. The ground felt damp and rough.
His
heart quickened as he touched his sodden clothes. Fumbling for the
flashlight, he felt the metal of the canteen and the rubber handle of
his knife. His spine throbbing and head pounding, he staggered to his
feet twitching his eyes. The air reeked of decaying flesh, bad enough to
scare even buzzards away. Taking a few steps right, he stumbled on
something hard. It was the flashlight. He picked it up and clicked the
switch. A river dark as molasses flowed past him into an abyss. On the
other side a red-orange and jagged wall soared beyond his view. He spun
right. Feet slapped along the craggy surface followed by a splash some
distance into the stark chasm. Where was Ryker? How did he manage to get
so far beneath the surface? He rubbed his hand through his slicked,
matted hair
. Mireille! His senses returned as he recalled
Mireille and him fleeing through the canyons from the Rally gang. He'd
turned to stall them, but they threw him down the ravine.
Oh what if they got her? They wouldn't negotiate.
As he shambled toward where he saw a shaft of sunlight, the rotten smell
grew stronger. His heart exploded and breaths hung in his throat as
Mireille lay gutted before his feet. Rats scuttled away. A yellowish
fluid poured from his mouth as he collapsed to his knees, crying and
cursing until his lungs burned. He would escape this hellish darkness,
find a way to the surface and kill em all.