"Jarrod!"

He heard his name, but the wind was knocked out of him. It was all he could do to just breathe. Swirls of dark colors swam in his vision, blues, reds, pulsing with the pain that stabbed through his shoulder blades.

Incapable of moving his right arm, Jarrod slowly rolled to his left side in an attempt to gain is bearings. The darkness was near complete with the storm overhead. The lantern apparently had extinguished itself since he left it back in the cavern. With a groan, he pushed up with his good arm, slowly bringing himself to a sitting position. He leaned against the wall and felt his right shoulder to see if he had dislocated it. Sore ribs, sore shoulder, but everything seemed solidly in place.

He looked up at the opening of the well. He searched for Nick's dark silhouette, but everything was pitch, the sky now barely discernible. "Nick!" he groaned. His voice not loud enough, he took a breath to try again but soon, chills crawled up his spine.

-I told you to get me out! I begged you!-

He remembered the harsh deep voice. His wide eyes searched the blackness, but he saw nothing. "I killed you," Jarrod told him. "You have no power over me."

-You took what was rightfully mine... the voice said. I want it back.-

Jarrod's fingers found the toy rifle, that was not a weapon to kill a demon. Not a weapon at all. "He wasn't yours! None of the children belonged to you." He gripped the barrel, not knowing what he would do. "They were innocent! They should be living their lives right now, but you stole what God gave them. You belong in Hell!"

Lightning flashed and Jarrod saw. A face in the dimness, rotted in decay, mocking him with a grin that froze Jarrod's heart.

-It is mine. I claim it!- With the scream of a wild ferocious wind, the phantom melted and spread black oily wings. Jarrod covered his face as it swooped over him and scurried a twisted path up the sides of the well. Blacker than black, the darkest shade of evil swam over the edge of the well like a rushing river into the world of the living.

Jarrod found his full voice. "Nick!"

A clap of thunder, a flash of light, a scream of terror.

"Nick!" Forgetting the pain, forgetting himself, Jarrod got to his hands and knees. Still clasping the toy rifle with the rusted iron barrel, he felt deep in the muck for the bones of a killer. He dug, down, down, scraping, tearing at the earth. "I know you're here!" Jarrod screamed. "Show yourself, you coward!"

His hand clasped something in the cold ground and he pulled it up. A femur maybe, he dug more until his fingers found the rough edges of a row of teeth. Grasping the jawbone, he pulled it free.

This skull he pulled from the muck belonged to a man and in this empty shell was once the mind of a murderer. Flashes of light showed Jarrod the roundness of the cranium and the wide dark holes of dirt that once held those piercing blue eyes. Jarrod glanced back up at the opening and knew he could do nothing to help his brother in the living world, but he could do something for him down here in Hell.

Jarrod lay the skull on the floor and with the toy rifle of a child long dead, he beat the bones to dust.

Spent, he fell back on his heels still gripping the rifle. He heaved a lonely sob and swiped with his sleeve at his angry, tear-stained face. If he had to remain here in Hell, he had wanted the sacrifice to save his beloved brother. He had wasted his chance.

A slinking sound from behind had him turning. If he had to face that creature again, it would surely end him. He had no defense. Nothing but a child's toy in his shivering grasp.

He stretched out a hand toward the sound. The rope! It had been lowered again, the loop still in place. He looked up and again saw nothing but dark sky. He found the burlap bag and placed the toy rifle in with the child's bones. Slowly and unsteadily, he got to his feet. He slipped his foot into the loop and with a deep breath, tugged the rope three times. The rope tightened and began to ascend. Jarrod felt himself lifted and this time, he would not let go.

He threw the burlap sack over the side once he was within reach. He grasped a handful of green grass and felt himself come to life again. Coco was ahead and a slinking dark figure held his reigns. For a heart clenching moment, Jarrod wasn't certain of what he saw, but no matter what, he wasn't about to go back into that well. He scrambled over the side and crawled away from the pit, collapsing on the cold, damp ground.

The figure turned and lurched toward him. Jarrod sat up in alarm, his heart racing. He wanted that rifle.

"Jarrod..." said Nick. He dropped to one knee, clutching his arm.

Jarrod got up and ran to him. "Nick!" He saw his brother's arm, bent unnaturally at the elbow. "Nick what happened?"

"Coco got spooked. Something, I don't know. He just jumped and when I tried to calm him he...he knocked me down." Nick looked fearfully into Jarrod's eyes. "He didn't mean it. I know he didn't."

Jarrod placed a careful hand on Nick's shoulder. "It wasn't him."

Nick gazed at him, confused and looking too pale. Ghostly.

"Can you ride?"

"I think so. It'll be slow going."

"As long as we put distance between us and this place," Jarrod said. "But, I'm sorry Nick. We'll have to come back here soon. Tie up loose ends."

"What do you mean?"

"His bones weren't the only ones I found down there," he said as he watched his brother's slowly comprehending eyes. "We've found the lost children."