“Look at me baby girl. Keep your eyes on me and do not look down. I've got you, okay?”
Randy speaks to me in a calm, reassuring manner that I'm not sure if I'd be capable of if the roles were reversed in this type of situation. The situation in particular is that I am currently dangling forty feet above several sinkholes in the floors below the abandoned insane asylum we were scouting out.
The tearing sound of my hoodie sleeve clenched in Randy's hand peels my eyes away from his.
“Randy!” I screamed, my voice shrill with terror, tears streaming down my face.
Mere moments ago, I was walking behind Randy down the decrepit patient ward hallway on the fourth floor of the massive Victorian-period asylum. The walls and floors were littered with graffiti, garbage and chunks of the decaying fallen pieces of the ceiling and walls.
His long legs and strides stepped over the rotten, sinking section of the floor hidden beneath an empty torn black garbage bag spread over the floor. My shorter legs and subsequently smaller stride landed my foot right in the middle of the weak, crumbling black and white linoleum tiled floor. It didn't help that I wasn't paying close enough attention to my footing because I was too engrossed with taking in the ornate details of the stunning aged brass light fixtures and what was left of the hand painted foliage and cherub border on the bottom edge of the arched ceiling. I am always stunned at the details and craftsmanship of architecture from times long past whenever we scope out these old buildings. Apparently, even the insane asylums were made to be beautiful and regal.
As soon as my full weight came down on the garbage bag, my leg sank through the floor with a crunch. I knew our evening of spelunking in the abandoned building had instantly taken a dire turn. The ground is literally swept from underneath me, and I fell over the collapsing floor in a blur. Screaming Randy's name, I flailed my arms out in a desperate attempt to snatch hold of something to stop myself from plummeting down to the level below.
Miraculously, Randy whirls around and lunges for me in the nick of time, reaching out to grab hold of my outstretched hand. That's what he was aiming for at least, but since I was wearing one of his over-sized hoodies where the sleeves hung down past my hands, he instead acquired a death grip around the cuff of my empty sleeve. Pure dread falls over his face when he realizes he only has hold of my sleeve.
Nearly sliding out of the hoodie as I fell, I instinctively grabbed hold of the collar with my free hand, hanging on for dear life. Laying on his belly on the creaking, groaning floor, leaning over the newly formed sinkhole, Randy stretches his other arm as far as he's able to, frantically trying to grab me anywhere he can. But I'm hanging too far for him to reach me.
A snap in the floorboards draws my attention beneath me where, to my horror, I discover the two floors directly below me have also given away. Instead of falling twelve or so feet and sustaining broken bones at worst, there's over forty feet of open space down to the first floor under my dangling feet. If I fall from this height, I die.
"I'm going to start crawling backwards and pull you up. No matter what, do not let go of the hoodie." Randy calmly informs me with a grunt as he begins to scoot himself backwards. Treating the faltering ground in a manner similar as one would to avoid falling through thin ice on a body of water, Randy remains flat on his stomach to evenly distribute his weight.
“Look at me baby girl. Keep your eyes on me and do not look down. I've got you, okay?”
The tearing sound of my hoodie sleeve clenched in Randy's hand peels my eyes away from his.
“Randy!” I screamed, my voice shrill with terror. Hot, panic-induced tears stream down both sides of my face, blurring my vision. "Please don't let me fall." I whimpered in a trembling voice. I'm utterly helpless right now.
"I'll never let go of you, Leslie. Now hang on." he reassured calmly. With a growl, Randy leans dangerously deeper into the hole, snatching the hoodie fabric above my shoulder, raising me up by one arm. Carefully, he curls his arm up, bringing me close enough for him to release my tearing sleeve and grabs the hoodie on my other shoulder. Fisting my hand around the sleeve of his long sleeve t-shirt, Randy raised himself up on his knees, pulling me out of the hole and enveloping me in the safety of his arms.
Rocking me gently back and forth with both of us standing on our knees while tightly embraced, Randy whispers hoarsely into my ear. "Shhhh. It's alright. I got you, baby girl. I told you I'd never let you go...."
***
I don't see the raised tree root sticking up from the ground that hooks around the top of my foot, launching me ass over applecart with a yelp down the steep hillside because they're obscured under the pouring rain and mud. The rain has caused the ground to become slipperier than a slip and slide slicked with dawn dish soap and water. I try to blindly claw at the slimy ground or grab for anything within reach in a vain attempt to stop myself from uncontrollably careening down the slope.
The world becomes a spinning disoriented kaleidoscope of pine trees, flying mud, and ground, as I tumble uncontrollably down the slope. This is bad. This is how solo hikers end up in the evening news when discovered dead days or weeks after being reported missing. Their bodies are found at the bottom of a ravine or in scattered pieces due to the wildlife taking advantage of a free, easy meal.
My fingers slip away from everything I try and fail to grab at, wet from the rain. What does eventually stop me, is a large boulder when the side of my head smacks into it, knocking me unconscious. The sickening ‘crack’ sound of my skull connecting with the edge of the massive rock jutting from the earth shoots through every bone in my body accompanied by blinding pain. That's the last thing I remember before the world sinks away into darkness.
“Roland!” The cloaked figure ahead of me roars, striding towards us. I notice after watching him take a few steps towards the boogie man and me, there's a stagger to his determined gait. His body sways stiffly from side to side. It's the behavior of a person who is severely intoxicated and is attempting to hide it. Even with me being in such a hazardous situation, I cannot help the resulting dramatic eye-roll upon witnessing this man's failure to hide how stinking drunk he is.I'm all too familiar with that out-of-sync, stumbling saunter like the back of my hand. No thanks to Randy coming home night after night, promising me as he swayed, that he only had three beers. Hilariously failing to look me straight in the eye with that stupid, slackened smile plastered on his face. I clearly remember the effort it took him to force himself to not drunkenly stumble around or fall flat on his face. “Stop this foolish nonsense at once! She doesn’t understand. You’re frightening her!” The enc
“Yes, it's me. I'm ok, really.” I blurt out, wanting more than anything to sob and jump up and down with relief. Inhaling a deep breath trying to calm myself, I halt at the edge of the woods, not taking a chance of losing signal by continuing inside.“What happened? Where are you?” Randy urges. I can hear the suppressed strain in his voice of him struggling to keep his nerves and emotions under control. I know he’s trying to keep me calm and collected. He always did in scary situations.“I planned on hiking to Sergeant's Peak before becoming lost. I don't know exactly where I'm at. I got turned around during a freak rainstorm, ran for my life, then tripped and tumbled down a steep hillside…”“Thank everything good and great that you are ok!” Randy exclaims in relief.“Kyra called me in hysterics saying you were supposed to be back by morning after you never showed or called. We've been contacting the park rangers and police just for them to tell us to fill out a missing persons report
A scuffling sound from behind me drags me out of my miserable, drunken reminiscing. I didn’t need to turn around to see if anyone was behind me, I already knew who was there. The unique, aromatic combination of leather and smoke, with a sharp tinge of copper, was always a dead giveaway.“Ye didn’t tell me we had an unexpected visitor.” I didn’t miss or acknowledge the note of irritation in his steely, rhythmic voice. Since he was a young child, he had picked up on our father's lilting Scottish accent more than I did. Along with the Scottish Gaelic my father frequently spoke in, the wicked bastard knowing full well my mother struggled to understand it. She spoke fluent Irish Gaelic, and lovingly taught both of us, resulting in my brother and I being able to speak and read both of the ancient languages.“She’s leaving soon anyway. Got lost in the woods and needed some caring for is all.” I stated, trying to sound bored and not slur my words worse than I already was. Reac
Gripping the wooden knob of the awl hard enough to make the joints in my hands ache, I release a frustrated growl and launch it across the workshop in the basement. Bouncing off a stone wall, it lands with a banging clatter, near the other two I've already hurled in that direction. Slumping down in the wood, swiveling work chair, I scrub my hand over my face and pinch my brow, closing my eyes and wishing this damn headache would let up.My other arm hangs slack over the armrest as I slouch further down into the chair, completely uninterested and unable to focus on finishing these orders. Straining and failing to keep my thoughts off of the breathtaking, alluring woman who I treated worse than a mangy dog and hastily walked out on, behaving as if I couldn't get away from her fast enough not even an hour ago. There was zero provocation from her to spur my awful behavior.That's what I tried convincing myself of at first anyway in a cowardly attempt to stave off the
I knew it was still raining earlier today and at one point was willing to take my chances with navigating the weather and nightfall, as opposed to spending another second in this creepy hellhole. Witnessing the weather happening before me right now doesn't have a name as far as I know. It can't be described as rain, pouring, torrential downpours, or even relating this to a monsoon is being too nice. Standing inside the doorway, gaping with my arms slack at my sides, the tiny scraps of hope I desperately clutched onto have washed away in the white squall of water pounding the flooded earth from the sky. I've lived in Maine my entire life and have never witnessed precipitation that is so extreme and violent. The unforgiving, frigid nor'easter blizzards that blow in off the Atlantic during winter pales in comparison to this drowning monstrosity. Sinking to my knees, I slid the backpack off my shoulders, digging through it for an extra hoodie and the waterproof, flannel-lined hooded ponc
I waited for what felt like eons for a response from Walker. For anything from him. My heart dropped to the floor, however watching him stare at me as that damn mask of cold indifference he normally wore slid down over his face. He stood abruptly and headed for the door, unaware of or not caring that he had stomped on and ruptured my bleeding heart, thumping away rapidly out in the open on the floor in front of me.With his back to me, Walker snatches his shirt off the back of the leather wingback chair, and pauses, not bothering to turn around and look at me.“I’ll be working downstairs and would like to remain undisturbed unless there's something you may desperately require.” He states coolly and strides out of the room, shutting the door hastily behind him.There’s a flurry of thoughts and emotions racing through me. I’m shaking from my head to my toes with volcanic anger and confused hurt. Trying to stop my bottom lip from quivering, I give up and allow it, along with the cascade o