Breaking Creed

39

The first sting surprised her even though she had been expecting it. It felt like a needle driving deep into her neck until it hit bone and was left there. The second sent a tingling down her spine. It wasn’t until after the third — maybe the fourth — that she felt the burn begin.

She couldn’t look up without her head spinning. Through a blur she could barely make out Creed yelling to her over the edge — and maybe Jason, or was she seeing double? Because suddenly there were two Jack Russell terriers, too. Then there were three and now four.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t hear Creed’s voice. Grace’s bark sounded muffled and miles away. A scorpion raced up her arm and she flung it off, only to see another on her shoulder. She could feel them in her hair, on her neck and back. She didn’t dare scream and risk one crawling into her mouth. The stings hurt less through her clothing. It was difficult to breathe. Her chest hurt. Sweat dripped down her face and she wanted to throw up.

There was a flash of light around her, and it took her a minute to realize it came from above. The men were trying to figure out what to do, shining light down into the hellhole to make sense of her silence.

Dirt trickled down on her but she couldn’t look up. It took all her effort to stand still. Her stomach cramped and a new panic raced through her when she realized she couldn’t swallow. She watched scorpions move freely up and down her body, but now she didn’t feel them.

More dirt rained on top of her and a shadow came over the opening. Someone was coming down. She stole a glance up and saw boots descending straight above her, avoiding contact with the walls. In no time Creed was in front of her, his shadow taking up the small space. She couldn’t see his face. It was too dark. And she couldn’t hear him. Her ears were filled with the sounds of water rushing and her heart thumping.

She could feel him slipping something under her arms. A rope. He cinched it quickly. Suddenly she was being yanked up, a jerk and jolt at a time. She tried to hang on with hands that wouldn’t obey and couldn’t grip. Jason grabbed onto her and she worked her feet over the ledge of dirt. Her first instinct was to twist and pull the rope off herself. Somehow she managed, then flung it back down for Creed.

She rolled over, attempting to sit up, and felt something tapping at her. She swatted instinctively to find Grace’s muzzle in her hair. The dog yelped and jumped back. That’s when O’Dell realized she had brought some of the damned scorpions up with her.

Again, she tried to sit up. Her head began to spin. She closed her eyes. She needed to breathe. She needed to take in the fresh air, but her lungs and throat felt thick.

Someone was slapping her to keep her awake. No, they were slapping off the scorpions that were still attached. Rolling her this way and that. It was too much. She couldn’t lift an arm — even a finger — to try to help. Nothing worked.

Her eyelids fluttered open only to see the leaves and clouds swirling above her. She was being swept up and she couldn’t hold on. So she closed her eyes again and tried to think of a cool breeze and the feel of ocean waves washing over her body again and again until her mind was somewhere else, where panic and fear and pain didn’t exist.