Holly Read online

  It was when she reached the room, saw that the beam was nothing special, that she heard the sound. The unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake. Instantly, she froze into position, her heart pounding in her throat. When she’d calmed herself enough, she turned just her head slowly in the direction of the sound. Not two feet from her was an enormous rattlesnake coiled and ready to strike if she moved even an inch. Holly had been so busy looking up at the beam that she’d almost stepped on the snake.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. Okay, so now what did she do? Wait until sundown and the cool temperature made the snake seek warmth? How about testing her snake books? They were three layers of leather, hot beyond belief, but guaranteed to withstand any snake bite. Guaranteed, huh? Did that mean she got her money back if they didn’t work?

  She told herself to stop being sarcastic and to think of a way to get herself out of there alive. No sudden movements, of course, but how about a slow, steady tiptoe out?

  “Nice snake,” she whispered, then swallowed when the tail rattled enthusiastically. Slowly, she stepped backward.

  One second she was standing on the floor of an old house and the next she was falling through the air. She screamed in fear and shock, then let out an oomph as she hit bottom.

  Blinking, she lay on her back and looked up. She seemed to have fallen into an old cistern. About twelve feet above, she saw the floor with its broken boards, and as she watched, the snake slithered over to peer down at her.

  “That’s all I need,” she muttered. “Caught in a pit with a rattlesnake.” Wincing with pain, bruised from the fall, she removed her camera from its case around her neck, then shot four quick photos of the snake. Blinded by the flash, it moved away from the edge.

  Holly put her hand to her back and rolled a bit to one side to look around her. She was in a pit about twelve feet deep and eight feet in diameter. It had most likely once been a root cellar or used for ice storage and had probably originally had dirt or stone walls. But some industrious owner had smeared a layer of concrete over the sides, which made them slick and unclimbable.

  A feeling of panic rose in Holly, but she tamped it down. Of course she could get out. Slowly, feeling her body for any injuries, she got up off the debris-covered floor. If the walls were modern enough to be concrete, then there was probably an aluminum ladder nearby.

  On the floor was a foot-deep cushion of rotten wood and plants—and animal carcasses. It looked as though anything that had ever fallen into the pit had not been able to find a way out.

  As she looked up at the high walls, she told herself that she was smarter than the animals, and that of course there was a way out.

  An hour later, she was beginning to panic. She’d piled all the debris up and tried to climb on it, but it was so rotten her feet went through to the bottom. The decaying wood had cushioned her fall, so she hadn’t been hurt, but she couldn’t climb it.

  Above her head were the old floorboards. She could see a rusty hinge that had once been the trapdoor that led down to the cellar. If she could latch onto the boards, could she pull herself up? Latch on with what? she wondered.

  Stepping back, she took inventory of what she had to use. She had her camera in a case with a thin nylon strap. She had a bottle of water and what she was wearing. Her walking stick and flashlight had flown out of her hands when she’d fallen.

  “A rope,” she said as she started unbuttoning her shirt. “I have to make a rope.”

  Chapter Two

  HOLLY JERKED TO ATTENTION WHEN SHE HEARD the sounds above her head. Curled into a ball, wearing only her panties, her tall snake boots, and her watch, she was buried between layers of debris, trying to stay warm. Her throat was raw from screaming for help; her eyes were raw from crying in fear and frustration.

  It was mine-shaft dark in the pit, her camera battery having long ago given out, and it was freezing. Although she couldn’t see it, she knew that hanging above her head, dangling just above her reach, was the rope she’d fashioned out of her clothes. After two hours of work, she’d managed to catch the arm strap of her bra on a nail (modern, not square cut) protruding from a plank that had fallen to the side above the pit. She’d not tried to catch one of the rotten floor boards for fear it would break under her weight.

  It had taken hours, but she’d finally managed to catch the strap on the nail.

  She’d been more than halfway up when the rope broke. A seam on her shirt had given way and Holly had fallen to the bottom again. What was left of the rope dangled a foot above her outstretched hands. She’d jumped, she’d cursed, she’d leaped, but to no avail.

  Darkness came quickly in the mountains and with it the cold air. Holly was alone in the forest, trapped in a concrete-lined pit, and, for the most part, naked. If she managed to live through the night, how long could she survive? If it rained she’d have drinking water, but the pit would be even colder if there was water in it.

  As the sun set and the light faded, Holly did what she could to make a den out of the debris on the floor. She needed something under and over her to protect her from the cold.

  What she refused to allow herself to think about was the fact that no one knew where she was. Her car was so completely hidden under trees that it might be weeks before anyone saw it. And if they did see the car, so what? This was a tourist area and there were strange cars parked everywhere.

  She wouldn’t let herself think that it would be weeks before her parents began to grow concerned about her disappearance. “Why do I have to be so independent!” she said, her arms clasped around her bare chest. Unfortunatley, it wasn’t at all unusual for her to change her itinerary at the last moment and not show up where she’d said she’d be.

  “Old houses,” she said, pulling dead vines over her, then wincing because the vines had thorns in them. Her love of old houses was her downfall.

  She pushed the little light button on her watch and saw that it was only ten o’clock. She would have guessed it was about 3:00 A.M. She had many hours to go before she would feel the warmth of sunlight.

  When she first heard the noise above her, she opened her eyes and all her senses came alert. She’d been hearing the quiet sounds of animals moving about, but this was different. This sound came from something larger.

  “Hello?” came a man’s voice. “Anyone here?”

  Holly was so dazed by cold, hunger, and fear that at first she couldn’t respond. When she tried to speak, her throat closed entirely.

  When she heard the footsteps begin to retreat, she panicked and began to kick the wall. She grabbed a rotten board and threw it upward.

  “Here!” she managed to croak out. “In here!”

  She held her breath when the footsteps above halted, then turned. In the next second, a flashlight was beaming down at her.

  Instinctively, Holly crossed her arms over her bare chest.

  “Are you all right?” A man’s voice came down to her. She couldn’t see his face behind the light.

  “Yes,” she said. “Just cold.”

  “Hang on a minute,” he said and Holly heard a rustling noise. Seconds later, a shirt, still warm from his body, hit her face. She pulled it to her, kept it over her face for a second, then quickly put her arms in the warm sleeves.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up at the light.

  “Now listen to me,” he said in a calm, soothing voice. “I’m going to have to take the light away for a few minutes while I look for something to use to get you out. Will you be okay?”

  “You won’t leave me, will you?” Holly heard the pleading tone in her voice, heard the fear.

  “Leave a beautiful, naked girl alone in a pit? You think I’m crazy?”

  Holly wouldn’t have thought she could smile, but she couldn’t help herself. When he took the light away she wrapped her arms, now clad in his long-sleeved shirt, around herself and waited. “The floorboards are rotten,” she called up to him.

  “I thought they might be,” he said, letting her know th