Emily's Trial

Chapter 6

The only thing that kept me from losing my mind immediately and completely was that I knew that Jake was above me, standing in the spot I'd left him in. Standing there wanting to do everything he could to help me 'cause that's what Jake does.

I had to help him find me and get to me quickly before my air ran out. I began pounding on the wood above me, pounding and shouting and screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Stop shouting. You're using up all my air."

Of all the things that had scared the hell out of me since we walked through that portal, nothing made me almost piss myself more than hearing Owen's voice – the voice of a dead person – coming out of the dark.

"Owen?" I whispered. I reached my hand out toward him and found his chest. In the stillness, I could feel his heart beating beneath my hand – barely.

Then I felt his hand come up to mine. He used his fingers to trace his way up my arm and to my face. He rested his hand on my cheek.

"Emily?"

"Yes, yes," I cried.

"Don't cry," he croaked, his voice weak and hoarse. "You'll only use up our oxygen faster. Besides, you don't want to die with tears in your eyes. What will the angels think if they see you with puffy eyes and a runny nose?"

"We're not going to die," I said through my snuffles.

"I disagree with you, Miss Magic. In case you haven't noticed, we seem to be buried alive," he said, barely audible.

"I know, Owen, I know. But Jake is above us. He knows where we are. I'm sure he's trying to dig us out right now."

"That little guy?"

"Yes, Jake, my friend."

"Sorry, honey, don't mean to burst your bubble. But that kid couldn't dig his way out of a wet paper bag. If you're relying on him to save you, then you're putting your faith in the wrong person."

"I've never had much faith, but what faith I've had, I've always put in Jake. He's never let me down."

"First time for everything. Hell of a time to find out that the person you've put your faith in all these years is a weak, spineless coward of a boy, isn't it?"

Owen had ragged on Jake before we went through the damned portal, but there'd always been a razzing quality to it, not outright meanness in his voice. What's happening to him?

"You're wrong. Jake may be small, but he's not a coward. Why are you being like this? He's the thing that stands between dying and living and you're spending what could be your last breaths dissing him?"

"These are my last breaths," he whispered. "I figured on that a long time ago. I've already cried and hollered and pounded and scratched. That's why my voice is just about shot and my hands are sore and bloodied, I'm sure. No one came. We're alone here."

"No, Owen, you're not alone. I'm here. I came. Don't you see that? I came for you. That's why I'm here. I wanted to be with you so much. My wanting brought me here, to you." I cried fresh tears and put my head on his chest.

He said nothing. Did nothing.

"Don't give up. Don't give up hope. We'll get out of this – this coffin – out of this whole place."

His arm hooked around me, his hand stroked my hair.

We lay like that for quite a while. All I heard was the beating of Owen's heart and the sound of our breath. I began to think that maybe Owen was right. Maybe Jake just wasn't strong enough – didn't have what it takes – to save us.