Chapter Thirteen: Tumble in the Dark

The night felt unearthly quiet—almost like the quiet before the storm. Clouds drifted overhead, dark against the light of the full moon. Not even crickets chirped in the forest.

Jill, Barry, and Richard found their way down from the mansion to another courtyard. Richard sat at the edge of a small bridge that led over a pond and into a rock face. Jill eyed the opening uncertainly, half-expecting to find eyes watching them from the darkness within. Another gate stood to the left of the pond, behind which a stone corridor turned sharply a couple of feet in.

"Do you think you can keep going for a bit, Richard?" Barry asked, eyeing their surroundings wearily. Jill didn't blame him. After their ordeal with the creatures, they had simply vanished into the night. Then, Jill realized why the silence bothered her so much. It was a bad omen.

Richard's face was white and shiny with sweat. Blood seeped through his orange shirt, making Jill's own wound throb.

"Just a couple more minutes," he replied faintly.

Barry's face hardened but nodded. He sauntered over to the gate, magnum hanging from his hand, trying to look down the passage on the other side. Jill walked to Richard's side, though she loathed moving her leg. The sound of her boots against the courtyard's stone sounded unwelcome in such silence.

Jill felt the fear radiate from him, even though he kept it tightly placated beneath a tough exterior. She had seen it on those kid's faces in Iraq. Children raised in poverty and hunger. Though they clung to life by a thread, they wouldn't show that they were afraid. Afraid of dying. Even afraid of tomorrow.

"I'm ready," Richard finally said, snapping Jill from her thoughts. She grabbed him under his arm and slowly eased him up. Richard grimaced under the strain. By the time he fully stood, he was panting. "Shit," he muttered, his eyes widening and growing glossy. Pain washed over his face, accentuating the lines in his face. Richard seemed to age rapidly, any vibrancy his youth afforded him sapped away in an instant. The façade was breaking down. It made Jill's heart sink.

The passage curved first to the right and then to the left. Tall, stone walls stood on either side. The three of them were barely able to walk side by side, and Jill eventually fell back.

The corridor ended at a single door with a lantern hanging above it.

"I'll check it out," Jill said, readying her shotgun and creeping forward. She pressed her ear against the cool wood of the door, straining to hear anything on the other side. All was still. Jill grasped the doorknob and slowly opened the door. Floorboards creaked beneath her foot as she stepped in, sounding like the moans of the undead. Cobwebs hung in the corners of the wood-paneled walls. The passage turned, leading down another corridor with two doors on either side and a set of double doors at the end. Another hall turned to the right halfway down.

"I think it's safe," Jill said over her shoulder. She crept down the corridor, her hands tight around her weapon. As she approached, she noticed a hand visible just around where the corridor turned. Jill froze, training her weapon on it.

The hand's skin was discolored a sickly shade of red, and the tips of its hand were torn away to reveal the pointed tips of bone. Jill inhaled lightly, trying to keep the scent of rotting flesh at bay. Finally, she turned the corner with her weapon trained. The sight of the zombie made her stomach churn. Half of what was once a young man's face was torn off, revealing crimson muscle and pearly jawbone. What was left of its flesh had turned the same deep red of its hand. Its white eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling.

Jill jabbed its hand with her foot. It didn't move. She exhaled and lowered her gun a fraction. Farther down the corridor a hole a foot and a half in diameter opened in the middle of the floor. Jill stepped over the corpse, retrieved her flashlight from her belt, and clicked it on. The beam shined down the hole, but it did nothing to penetrate the darkness within. She lowered onto her haunches, trying to get the light as close into the hole as she dared. What the hell is under this place—

"JILL!"

A strangled gasp and the sound of someone standing, far faster than any zombie, came from behind. Jill turned. An open maw of blackened teeth filled her vision. She raised her hands, but the crimson zombie clung onto her with an iron grip.

Everything after happened quickly. A flash and the sound of gunfire. The zombie's head exploded. Jill quickly turned away, feeling something wet and thick hit the side of her face. The creature's deadweight toppled onto her, causing her to stumble back.

Crack.

The floor beneath Jill's foot fell out beneath her, and she tumbled into the darkness.

Jill spun in the dark as she slammed into the tight passage's walls. Rough rock walls skinner her arms raw and she thought she heard something crack in her side. Finally, she tumbled to a landing where the air was forced from her chest. She laid in the dirt for a moment, wheezing. Her body throbbed and her leg screamed. Jill pressed her hand against it, praying that the stitching hadn't come undone. She never thought that the pain would pass. Moving was an impossibility, not just physically, but mentally. What if she tried to move something and it just wouldn't comply? Then she would be stuck here in the dark…with God knows what. Come on, Valentine. Clenching her jaw, Jill slowly moved her arms. They extended despite the throbbing. Jill did the same with her legs. The pain in her thigh was so great that she nearly cried out, but it subsided enough to function after a few seconds. She tried to raise her hand again, only to find something thread-like clung to it. Jill brushed it off.

"Jill!" Barry's voice echoed down from above.

"I'm here, Barry," she replied, finding her flashlight a couple of feet to her left. Jill scooped it up and cast the beam across the ground, looking for her shotgun. The ground looked white in the light and her boots stuck to the floor.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Jill said. Her light fell over the weapon. She reached out and grasped it, the cool steel felt comforting in her hands. "It looks like I'm in some kind of cave beneath—"

Something shifted out of the corner her vision. She raised the shotgun and trained the light onto it. At first, she wasn't quite sure what she was looking at, for it looked like a large tangle of black fur. A slender appendage rose, pawing at the air for a moment, before coming down gracefully to the ground. Seven more of the spindly limbs raised from the mass, each connected with an oval body the size of a Great Dane. Jill's light shined within its web of blackened eyes.

She tightened her finger on the trigger—something else scuttled across the wall just outside her circle of light. Another spider, this one the size of a Pitbull. Jill spun the light about, feeling her skin crawl. There were at least five other smaller ones in the room, each slow and sluggish, as though waking. The same white substance covered the walls and ceilings. It finally hit Jill what it was—webbing.

The tarantulas slowly climbed their way down. Jill knew that she had maybe a half a minute at most before they encircled her. She moved her flashlight beam steadily about the room. Keep it together, she kept telling herself. There had to be a way out. She froze when she spotted two rusted metal doors coated in a thick layer of web. Jill crept toward them, grimacing each time she jerked her feet from the ground. Jill reached out for the door's handle, the web clinging to her hand. She pulled the door to. It creaked open but snagged in the web.

"Shit," Jill hissed. Her heartbeat rapidly. She pulled her combat knife from her belt and hacked at the door. The residue stuck to the blade so that she constantly had to yank it out and start anew. She managed to clear away half from the gap between the doors within seconds. Still, Jill felt the spider's proximity and could hear the pitter-patter of their feet behind her.

She stiffened as the fibers of one of their legs grazed the back of her neck—

"Jill!"

The air in the room tensed at Barry's echoed voice. Jill dare not move, dare not send them into a frenzy.

"Jill, you still there?"

Jill winced. Please, shut up Barry, she thought with a grimace. Then, there came the same soft footfalls from behind. This time, they were moving away.

Jill didn't bother to look back—couldn't take it if the sound was just a false hope produced by her stressed imagination. She hacked at the webbing with a renewed fury. For a moment, it was as though she no longer felt her body or the ache of her hand from clutching the knife. When only an inch of webbing remained at the bottom, Jill wrenched the door. There was a moment's resistance, but then with a creak, the door swung open. Jill scrambled through and slammed it behind her.

She held onto the handle, part of her expecting for the creatures to start prying the door open, eager for her flesh. Yet, everything was still. A faint hissing sound filled the chamber. Her body tensed so tightly that her bones cracked. It was that damn snake again. She had just escaped from some giant spiders to turn around and be nose to nose with that thing again. Jill turned, but the tunnel was empty. She sighed. It was only the sound of her own ragged breathing. Adrenaline faded, leaving her with her pulsing limbs. Blood soaked through the fabric of her sleeves, and her thigh burned. She pressed her back against the rocky wall—the only light given was by strung excavator lights along the walls—and sank to the floor.

Despite herself, she couldn't help but laugh.