Chapter 12

Somewhere off in the distance, Truman could hear a phone ringing. His vision was clouded and he tried to focus on the sound as he pushed himself up on his elbow. Blood dripped from his forehead and nose as he shifted his position and he winced in pain. "Shit," he muttered, reaching for his face. Bruises and welts were beginning to surface across his cheeks and there was a slight ringing in his ears that wasn't coming from the phone.

He sat up, still holding his head and glanced around. It was obvious that he was underground. There was a rhythmic drip from somewhere behind him and the air had a musty chill to it. Tru took a deep breath, wheezing slightly in pain.

The phone stopped ringing and the silence once again surrounded him as he attempted to stand. Using the rock wall to steady his footing, Truman began the trek to his cell phone, thrown to the side of the basement during the struggle with one of the wraiths.

Flashes of the attack began to come back and Tru shook his head at his own stupidity. Paul had convinced him to investigate on their own, saying that it wouldn't be dangerous and that they would do a little recon before bringing the girls back tonight to hunt the wraiths. Unfortunately, one of the monsters had gotten the drop on them, attacking from behind as he and Paul had walked back to the truck.

"Paul?" Tru ventured as he moved silently towards the phone on the ground. "Hey, kid?"

There was no answer. Paul was either unconscious in the darkness beyond Tru's vision or he was alone in the basement. As he approached the phone, it began to ring again. He glanced around and flipped it open, answering in a whisper, "Grace?"

"Why are you whispering?" came her immediate reply.

Truman turned to put his back towards the wall as he took a deep breath. "One of them got the drop on us," he explained, looking around the room for a weapon. "I'm in a basement or something…underground. There's a tiny window facing west. I can see the sun." Knowing that his daughter was already throwing herself into action, he tried to slow her down. "Now, Gracie, wait," he continued. "I have no idea where I am, so just hang tight a minute while I get my bearings."

"I'm going to trace your GPS," Grace replied. Tru heard the Chevelle's motor turn over; the rumble of the engine echoed through the tiny speaker of his cell phone. Static scratched through his ear as Grace shifted the phone on her shoulder. "Serra, let's go. Just leave it," she said, obviously addressing her sister as she prepared to come after their father.

"You know how to do that?" Truman asked, tilting his head. He picked up a screwdriver that lay haphazardly on the workbench he leaned on. "The GPS thing?"

"I'll figure it out. Keep your phone on and stand next to the window." With that, Grace hung up and Tru was once again left alone in the room.

He made his way around the outside, holding his hand steady on the rock wall that surrounded him. The heavy wooden storm door was obviously locked from the outside, and even if he found something to stand on in order to climb out the window, he was convinced that he wouldn't fit through it.

"Where is Luck when you need her?" he muttered to himself, knowing his youngest daughter would fit easily through the window. Tru shook his head and dabbed the blood with his shirt and again turned to face the almost-empty basement.

He sighed heavily as he opened the flip phone once more. He had about twenty percent of his battery life and Grace would kill him if it died while she was looking for him, so he shook his head and closed it once more, changing his mind about attempting to call Paul. Grace, he knew, would take care of things.

She always did.

…

"Come on," Grace muttered, holding the phone against her shoulder as she tore down the highway, kicking up leaves and dust in her path.

The other end rang a final time and Paul's voice answered, "Hey, this is Paul. I'm busy. Call back later."

Grace slammed her hand on the steering wheel as she drove and she chanced a glance at her sister. "It's okay, Serra," she said, keeping her tone even. "Dad answered. We can get to Dad."

"What about Paul?" Serra asked. Her voice was laced with concern, sounding younger than she had in years.

"We'll GPS him too, but we need to concentrate on Dad. As soon as the phone company calls me back, we'll head there and get him," Grace explained, staring at the road and gripping the wheel. "From there, we can worry about Paul."

Serra stared out the windshield. "Where are we going?"

"Paul was staying at a little motel just outside the nature preserve where he thought the wraiths were living. There's a nice little ranger station with an observation tower and tours that lead through the forest." She gasped slightly as she took the turn a little too fast. "There was also housing for the rangers on the back half of the preserve. I'll bet you ten bucks, that's where the wraith took Dad."

"How do you know?"

"A hunch."

Eyeing her sister silently, Serendipity was constantly impressed by her big sister. Grace had the ability to just know things that no one else really seemed to know. She guessed correctly more often than not when it came to making split second decisions and her "hunches" were almost always spot on.

Grace's cell phone began to ring and she reached for it immediately, answering it on the second ring. "Hello?" she asked, keeping her voice upbeat and professional. It was the voice she had learned to adopt when dealing with adults, needing to sound older than she was.

"Mrs. Browning? We have your daughter's cell phone tracking," a woman answered, getting right down to business.

Grace breathed a sigh of relief more dramatically than she needed to. "Oh, thank God," she cried. "I just hate when she takes off like this. It's been so hard since her father left us."

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am," the operator answered. "The phone is triangulated roughly where Bowdoin Road and a set of railroad tracks intersect at the outer edge of the Bowdoin Refuge. I apologize for not being able to be more specific, but there are no cross streets to work off of."

Grace nodded, confirming her suspicions. She glanced at Serra and pressed her lips together. "Thank you so much," she added, making sure to sound grateful.

"You're very welcome, ma'am. We are grateful for your subscription. Please call back with any more questions."

Hanging up before she had a chance to blow the phone call completely, Grace pushed the Chevelle to its limits. "They're on the outer edge of the reserve. I knew it."

"How far?"

"Forty minutes if I push it."

Serra stared out the windshield again, fear gripping her body. "Push it, Grace," she gasped.