Chapter Twenty-One: Deadline Dawning

"Luke?"

"Get me out; get me out!"

He felt the vine tighten painfully around his torso as she pulled. For a long, long moment, nothing happened. Luke kept desperately trying to pull himself free, going light-headed from lack of oxygen. Then, finally, something gave, and he moved.

Jenny kept pulling, and Luke kept struggling, and little by little inched forward. The rock around him was becoming earthy, and suddenly something solid stuck into Luke's stomach, halting progress. He yelled in pain as Jenny's next tug pressed it deep into his skin.

"Luke? What is it?"

"Rock," he gasped. There was no space to get around it. "Keep pulling!"

He gritted his teeth as the next few tugs were fruitless. The rock was sharp and he was sure it must be cutting him open. Spearing him there, ready for something else with an appetite for human flesh. "Help me!"

"I'm trying!"

I'm going to die, Luke thought wildly. I'm going to die right here and I'll never see the sun again. Or Jenny. Or home, or Mum, or my friends.

He almost stopped trying; he was sure he couldn't move a millimetre further. But he wouldn't give in, though the pain almost made him black out. It was increasing, but his light-headedness was rapidly growing. His fighting was weakening.

"Jenny," he called feebly when he realised her pulling had stopped. What was going on? Had she deserted him? With Luke's fear mingled hurt. She couldn't have. She wouldn't. But where was she?

Then he heard a peculiar sound up ahead. It was almost like … like something was coming in the tunnel towards him. Luke's paranoia flared up again and he tried pushing himself backwards, but he couldn't move that way either. As the sound grew nearer he screamed.

Jenny yelped in shock. "Luke! What's wrong?"

"J-Jenny?"

"Yeah," she said, and although he couldn't see her, he could hear she was only about a foot or two away. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm gonna help you."

"Okay," he whispered, feeling—not relaxed, exactly, but hopeful, now he knew she was there and, from the sound of it, had a plan.

"Where's the problem?"

He didn't understand the question. "I'm stuck."

"I know that," Jenny said gently. "I mean—you stopped moving when you hit the rock; where is it?"

"Sticking in my stomach. It hurts."

"Luke, I need you to keep very, very still," Jenny said, and something long, flat and cold slid down Luke's front. He yelped.

"Sorry. Now if I can … aha."

There was a muffled clang of something metal hitting stone.

"Luke. Do you trust me?"

He swallowed nervously. "Y-yeah."

"Okay. Stay as close to the ceiling as you possibly can."

"What do you think I've been trying to do?"

The cold metal thing began moving up and down, and a scraping sound set Luke's teeth on edge. He bit his lip as whatever it was snagged his clothing, and scraped his skin, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as the rock digging in him.

Jenny continued sawing, until something gave, and she pulled the tool out. "Oh, no. Luke, you're bleeding!"

"Am I?"

She obviously realised he wasn't quite with it, for she scrambled backwards as quickly as she could. "Okay, I'm clear. Come on, Luke, come out."

"I can't," he said, feeling more woozy than ever.

"Try again! Come on!"

Luke's fear had more or less gone, to be replaced by dizziness. He didn't want to move; it just made it worse. He was content to just sleep.

"LUKE!"

No … he didn't want to let Jenny down. Luke tried to clear his head, and as he felt the vine tugging at him, as if from a distance, he decided to try anyway.

It was very slow going, but he pressed forwards. Although he could still feel the rock in him, he was moving, which made no sense to his addled brain. He figured it was all a bizarre dream and he would wake up soon, still in the catacombs.

"You're nearly there!" Jenny's voice penetrated the fog, and he surged forward, ignoring the scrapes and the nasty knock to his shoulder. The pain seemed very distant. He could smell the fresh air, much closer now. That was good, he told himself.

Unexpectedly, the vine stopped moving and instead a pair of hands grasped his. "It's me; I've got you," Jenny said breathlessly. "You've made it, Luke!"

Through their combined effort, he tumbled out onto rough, dry ground, where he lay panting and refilling his lungs. He would have happily stayed there for the rest of the night, but Jenny manoeuvred him so he was leaning up against something, also rough and dry like the ground. She then knelt down by his side and pulled up his top.

Luke watched, only mildly concerned, as he realised that the rock—a very sharp flint—had, in fact, broken the skin and wedged itself in his abdomen. Jenny had somehow sawn it free from its place in the passage floor. Ah. That explained it.

Jenny was muttering expletives, chewing her lip as she stared at him. Luke drank in her face, softly lit by the glowing creepers on the ground, having thought he would never see it again. His last thoughts were how pretty she was, really, as his eyes closed of their own accord.

Jenny's panic mounted as Luke passed out. She needed to hurry, but she didn't know what to do. It was just too big a wound; he was losing blood fast. Why, why hadn't she removed the rock when she came across it? It hadn't occurred to her that Luke might have more trouble getting past it than she did.

"Come on," she said out loud. "Calm down and focus."

Since he was out of it, she felt no shame in pulling her top off and holding it to the wound with one hand. With the other she searched his pockets for the makeshift sewing kit, almost crying in relief when she'd found it.

"Please, for goodness' sake," she said to him, "stay unconscious till I've fixed you up."

The pain all came back when Luke woke up. Before he had opened his eyes, or indeed moved at all, the hole in his abdomen reminded him of its existence as sharply as if the flint was still embedded in it. At the same time, his shoulder ached acutely. He groaned, and felt movement beside him.

"Luke? Are you waking up?" Jenny's voice said softly.

Instead of answering her, he tried opening his eyes, squinting as he did so—it was daylight. He didn't take in any more than that until Jenny pressed the water bottle to his lips. "Here, drink something."

He did, and felt a little better, though it did nothing for the pain. "Where are we?"

"Some kind of pit," Jenny said, screwing the bottle cap back on. "In the forest, as far as I can tell." Luke made to sit up, but she stopped him. "Oh no you don't. I spent a long time on those stitches; I'm not having you messing them up by moving too fast. Just rest a while."

Her top was dark with dried blood, Luke noticed suddenly. "Jenny—you're hurt—"

She looked down. "That's your blood, not mine."

"Oh," he said in relief, and looked down at the sling made of knotted vine. "What happened to my arm?"

"You dislocated your shoulder. I got it back in but you should rest it as much as you can."

Luke rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "It's day seven, right?"

"Yes," Jenny confirmed in a low voice.

Their last day.

TBC …