Change Of Season (64 page)

Above, she heard his footsteps pounding against the concrete, her name uttered in rage as he moved swiftly past her tunnel – and her hiding place.  As the noise grew more distant, she felt herself relax.  She massaged her wrists, exhaling sharply as she touched the raw wounds, then debated her options.  She could keep hiding, but for how long?  Who would find her?  This section of tunnels hadn’t been mapped during her explorations, that was for certain.  Veronica wouldn’t know where to begin, nor would Andrew. 

She would have to find her way, then.  Find a path – any path – to the surface and bang on doors, break windows, get attention. 
Goddamn laryngitis
!  All of her forced talking with the creep had burned her throat out completely.  She was effectively mute. 

Slowly, she reached for a rung on the ladder, pulling herself up to the surface.  Ten small rungs, yet it felt like a mile.  Without light, she was forced to move at a snail’s pace, flailing blindly for each handhold.  When she at last reached the door, she froze before it, panic welling up inside her.  What if she ran straight into him? 
I didn’t wait long enough
, she worried, wringing her hands.  Or perhaps it was too long, and he’d doubled back.

The knob twisted easily in her hand, silent save the faint
click
of the latch releasing from the strike.  Slipping out into the tunnel, she glanced hesitantly to her left. 
No one
.  Not even Nikki awaited her now.  Straining her ears, she couldn’t discern Kearney’s location.  Either he was very far or he was stock-still, awaiting her next move.

It was a risk she’d have to take.

Autumn tiptoed down to the main tunnel, hugging the walls for cover.  As painful as the ground was on the soles of her feet, she did move rather quietly compared to her sneakered treks down here.  Small mercies.  Holding her breath, she risked a glance in each direction.

Clear.

Considering he’d run to the right of her, it must be the way out, she reasoned.  If it were a dead end, he wouldn’t waste his energy; he’d just wait for her to double back.  She moved with stealth and speed, continuing to hug the wall for protection.  Only the opposing side featured working bulbs, she noted. 
Stay in shadows
. 

It was what Miraj would do.

The next divide offered a straight path ahead or a right.  Autumn chose the later by instinct, motivated by the large fluorescent light in the distance.  One thing she had learned from her time beneath Casteel was that major junctions featured such looming bulbs.  It was the promise of a tunnel maintenance workers did not – or could not – fear to tread.  A way out.

Quicker now, she darted along the damp surface, dodging puddles as best she could – more noise than she could afford to risk.  Twenty feet... thirty feet...  Her chest ached, her illness looming large and reminding her she was weak, pitiable.  A mouse in the den of a lion.  Her lungs felt crushed, compressed beneath the weight of her terror. 

Andrew.  Veronica.  Mom.  Dad.  Pandora.
She listed off her loved ones, marching to beat of her desperate drumming heart.  She couldn’t give up, not now.  They’d all fought to keep her alive, to keep her safe.  It was her turn now.

Rounding to her left, Autumn spotted a brass plate on the wall.  Leaning forward, she scarcely detected the words etched in: 
Staff Quarters
.  The arrow indicated she was on track to reach Faculty Housing.  She hesitated, weighing the merits of this choice.  Would Kearney move in that direction, perhaps returning to his home to bandage himself?  What did he think she would do?

Maybe the bastard’s bled out from the jugular
, Autumn seethed.  No time to debate this.  Continue or reverse?

Continue
, she decided, pressing onward.  If she could connect to the tunnels from her exploration with Veronica, she could reach Pearson Hall, or continue on towards Media Studies. 
Better the devil you know
...

Her breathing was laboured now, her vision blurring as she persevered.  Beads of sweat rolled down her back as she leaned against the wall for support.  She needed another hiding place, a refuge in which to rest.  Her body was too weak for this game of Hide or Go Die.  Her legs wobbled beneath her and she fell forward with a loud slam, screaming silently as something sharp embedded itself in her knee.  Her heart skipped as she frantically struggled to focus and pull her knee into view.  A large piece of broken glass was lodged in her skin, jutting out to the side.  Cursing silently, she pulled it free, wincing as warm blood oozed over her fingers.  Tossing it to the side, her eyes widened in recognition.

The gloves.  The hair.  The syringe
.  Autumn knew where she was. Distantly, she heard someone begin to run and scrambled to her feet. 

And so does he
.

Bolting around the corner to her right, she alternately jogged and ran, fighting vertigo and the lightheadedness of fever and infection.  He was off somewhere to her left and behind her, but growing closer.  Whatever damage she’d done to him with the blade, it hadn’t slowed his pursuit. 

Pounding feet grew in a cacophony around her, a hammering in her skull as she darted right and pawed frantically at every door she saw.  She couldn’t think, couldn’t remember the way.  The droning voices were stirring in the background, threatening a hostile takeover of her body – a sacrifice. 

No, no, no, please don’t do this.
...

Locked door, and another.  He was in front of her, behind her, everywhere.  She gasped for air, crying silently as she tugged on another locked door in frustration.  No way out.

Her body hit the ground then, a sickening cracking noise in her left arm as she fell sideways.  She was smothered in his stench, writhing and flailing as he grabbed her wrists, wrenching her onto her back.

"You stupid bitch!" Kearney hissed.  "Look what you did!"

The scalpel jutted from his neck, a sight she would find hilarious if she were not being crushed against concrete.  She kicked the ground weakly, his legs straddling her waist as he slapped her viciously, left then right.

"You can’t do this to me again!" he snarled, pinning her wrists overhead.  "You’re mine, Mary!"

Fuck you
! she tried to scream, her voice a faint squeak.  She squirmed and yanked with everything she had, her battle cry a familiar mantra: 
What would Miraj do
? 

She’d go down fighting, to the death.

His grip loosened as he belted her again, her eyes rolling back in her head.  Digging her heels into the back of his legs, she wiggled herself lower, lining her knee up for a final stand.  She drove it upward into his scrotum with a satisfied smile, Doug rolling off her and yowling in pain.  Pushing up to her feet, she headed back from where she’d come in, determined to circle around somehow, merge off into another tunnel, another path to freedom.  Blood pooled in her mouth – her teeth had been driven into her cheek by the force of his strikes.  The metallic taste motivated her to run faster. 
I’m still alive
, she chanted to herself. 
I’m not dead
.  Her left arm hung limp at her side, a bone broken somewhere beneath her elbow. 

I’m alive.

She heard him shriek behind her, heard him gaining on her. 
I can’t go faster
, she realized sadly. 
I can’t keep running from him
.  In her mind, she struggled to remember self-defense moves, plotted ways to kill him from movies. 

One of them would die tonight in this tunnel, and she didn’t plan to be a willing victim.

Her head pounded and pulsed, drowning out his pursuit. 
Mom... Daddy...
  Did they know she loved them?  Had she told them enough?  Her right ankle threatened to roll beneath her and she pushed on, ignoring the pain.  A draft blew past her arm and she knew he was closing in again. 

Give up
, the bees droned. 
You can’t win
.

No!

A turn ahead – no, two turns.  If she could just get somewhere close to the surface, the noise might bring rescue.  With the last of her strength, she launched herself at the first right and flailed as a hand seized her good wrist, pulling her against the wall.  She closed her eyes and waited for him strike.

A sickening
crack
and a thud broke through her headache, but she felt nothing.  Her eyes flew open in shock, staring at the assailant before her.

"I’ve waited three years for this, you fuck!" Professor Grant yelled.

He swung the baseball bat again, taking out Kearney’s other knee.  Broken and battered, he wept before his colleague, crumpled on the ground.  Arms enveloped Autumn from behind and she struggled, spinning around in confusion.

"It’s me!" Andrew shouted.  "It’s me!"

His face was streaked in dirt, his clothes rumpled and dusty.  He pulled her away from the fray as Grant continued to lash out at Kearney.

"You think you’re the only one who cared about her?" Grant screamed.  "Mary was one of my closest friends.  I loved her, more than you ever did.  You deserve a fate worse than death for what you’ve done to her, to all of the students!"  His boot connected with Kearney’s ribs, earning a curse from the helpless man before him.    Turning towards them, he gently asked, "Is she okay?"

"I think so," Andrew said, his hand cupping her cheek.  "What did he do to your face?  I could kill him!"

She shook her head, vetoing that idea.  With her right arm, she clung to him, pressing her face into his sweater and inhaling deeply. 
I’m alive
. 
Alive
.  Her legs buckled beneath her and Andrew moved swiftly, catching her and lowering her carefully to the ground.

"Stay with me, Autumn," he begged, cradling her to his chest.  "I love you so much."

"Andrew!  Professor Grant!"

Veronica
?  Autumn wept openly, adrenaline draining, leaving grief and devastation in its wake.  They’d come for her.  They’d found her. 
No one found the others
, she thought sadly. 
They died alone
. 

Sirens began to wail above ground as Veronica and Evan joined them, crouching beside Autumn and Andrew.  Veronica’s hands smoothed Autumn’s hair back as she kissed her cheek.

"Watch her left arm," Evan cautioned.  "I think it’s broken."

"Prick!" Veronica shouted at Kearney.  "She needs an ambulance," she said to Andrew, quieter.

"Take her," Professor Grant ordered them.  "I have him under control."

"I’ll stay with you, just in case," Evan insisted.

Autumn’s ears were muffled in cotton, voices slurring around her.  She felt herself being lifted, her left arm draped carefully down Andrew’s back.  In her mind, she could see her room at home:  the wide picture windows; the shelves of well-loved books; a tiny black cat curled up on her pillow.  The scent of brownies baking in the oven.  Her father’s laughter.  Andrew, Veronica and Evan, at her side.  Her very own Wizard of Delirious Oz ending. 
They were all here
. 
They were real, weren’t they
?

"Safe?"  It was all she could muster, a faint whisper in Andrew’s ear.

"You’re safe," he promised.  "I’ve got you."

Her head lolled as she coughed violently. 
I’m alive
, she assured herself. 
I survived
.

The last thing she saw was Nikki Lang, smiling as Andrew ascended the steps towards the quad with Veronica rushing ahead to hold the door open.  She pressed a palm to her heart, then extended it to Autumn.  Gratitude.

Rest in peace, Nikki
, Autumn mouthed. 
Thank you
.

As she slipped from consciousness, she swore she heard Nikki laugh.

EPILOGUE

Toronto; January 31st, 2012

"There’s the turn!" Veronica announced, waving the map in her hand.

"This place is in the middle of nowhere," Andrew grumbled.  "Who the hell thought this was a good place for a concert venue?"

"Absolute morons?" Autumn suggested cheerily, laughing as Andrew stuck his tongue out.

After weeks of police interviews, hospitalization and homework catch-up, it was time for Autumn’s favourite form of therapy:  a concert.  With all of the panic and fear, she’d almost forgotten her Christmas gift entirely.  It was her mother who’d jarred her memory, handing her the documentation to excuse her from campus for an overnight stay at home.  It wasn’t a hard sell:  after Kearney’s murder attempt, Logan was too petrified of a lawsuit to even look her way, let alone refuse a request.