Jarrod swung the lantern around. The sobbing was behind him, in front of him...everywhere. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the sense that something was just behind him in the near total blackness. He backed to the wall and could feel the bone chilling cold of the deep earth. The crying seemed to be in front of him now, and he raised the lantern.
"Nicky..." he whispered. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."
He ventured forward and saw that running water had carved out a tiny cavern in the wall.
"Come to me," he said, though somehow he knew Nick was not a little 4-year-old boy and was safe above ground, he felt that if he didn't find this child, who sounded so much like his long ago brother, he would lose everything. "Nicky."
He knelt at the cave entrance, ducked his head, and held the lamp inside. Saw nothing from this angle. Just blackness and a smooth floor inside. "Holy God," he muttered in prayer. The child sobbed once more and then...
...something, a series of muffled thumps...and then one piercing cry that echoed in the chamber and died.
"God, Nicky!" He scrambled through the entrance, and heard nothing but the drip of water and the sound of his own quick breaths. "Where are you?" Jarrod cried, a sob nearly choked his words.
He aroma of deep, damp earth filled his nostrils as he started to see the contents of this chamber. On hands and knees, for there was no room above to stand, he found a shoe. It was hardly bigger than his palm. Here, a half buried doll, and here, a wooden rifle, one that Nicky might have played with that day he disappeared.
The coward. The murderer. Jarrod had to find him. He-felt something snap under his foot in his haste to leave the cavern. He looked down. An arm. He gasped, a dark haired boy, half buried in the muck. He began to breathe again but unsteadily. He had stepped on the boy and crushed his arm. He gently turned the boy's face to him. "Oh, God! Oh God! Nicky!" Tears blurred his vision and panic hit him hard. "Nicky..." he cried hoarsely but the boy did not respond. His eyes were half open, but unseeing. Jarrod frantically clawed at the heavy earth to dig his brother out.
Heart racing, fear tearing his soul as much as his fingernails tore at the boy's tomb. He had to get him out!
He tore and scraped and ripped at the ground until his fingers bled, but he finally got the boy's body free. He cradled his little brother in his arms and searched for signs of life-so difficult with so little light and the body so cold!
He crawled on his knees toward the small opening which led back to the main chamber, but the little worn and wasted toy rifle caught his eye. He grabbed that up too, for it was a part of Nick. Both, he carried to the small opening which led to the well. The lantern still glowed, left behind in the darkness.
Scrambling out of the cavern, he lay the rifle down and touched the boy's face to see if he was still there. What he felt was not flesh, but bone. All of it, everything in his tender embrace was bone. He wanted to drop it, so repulsed was he, but these were not the bones of a man. He gently laid them down as he knew they did not belong here.
His eyes adjusted to the dimness and he felt around the mucky floor until his hand crossed the burlap. Jarrod opened it wide and lifted the bones into the bag. One body would be leaving this place. The body of a child who once had a family in the valley. An innocent child who had wandered into the path of a killer.
With the burlap opening drawn tight, Jarrod got to his feet. He felt the wall and found the rope. With shaking hands, he managed to slip his foot into the loop and tugged the rope three times. "Pull me up, Nick!" he called. He gripped the rope in one hand. In the other, he held the bones close. "You'll be with your family again," he managed to say.
Nick appeared as a dark silhouette at the opening of the well. He gave a signal that he understood and then disappeared.
The rope became taut and soon, Jarrod felt himself being lifted. Rising up from the abyss. He wondered if this would be enough to release Nick from the hold of the old bones. Is this what they were really after? He could only wait and see.
A blast of light filled the tunnel and a thunderous boom echoed down the shaft. Lightning struck close. Suddenly, the rope jerked upward. His rope hand slammed into a rock that jutted from the side of the well, knocking the rope free of his grip. He grasped for it, but only found air as his body tumbled down. Nothing would stop his fall.