Buried: A Cainsville Story

The Game is Afoot

I am suffocating. I swear it.

I glance around the empty stretch of land. I am a pawn, sent here because I was supposed to be, and I have no idea what that can mean but, for perhaps the first time, my lack of questions has nothing to do with the compulsion of the Elders, and everything to do with the one thing I am looking for but can not see.

I do not have time for questions. I need to find her.

When my phone rings, I nearly fumble it. The last few days have done nothing but fray my nerves as, I suppose, they were designed to do, to leave me dancing on the edge, with no idea of who I am or what I believe.

I glance at the screen and the sense of relief is all-encompassing. A more dramatic man would fall to their knees. I just breathe a sigh and answer. "Olivia? Where are you?"

There is a muffled sound on the other end of the line. A crackle. She is trying to say something, but the connection keeps cutting in and out and her voice is vague and garbled.

"Olivia, I can't hear you. I need you to tell me - I was told I could find you by the gargoyle the town made for me. Are you here? Dial any button - once for yes, twice for no."
One beep.

"I don't see you. Are you hiding? Is it too dangerous to speak? Are you injured?" I hear the panic rising in my voice. I wince. This is exactly what he wants. I'm giving him exactly what he wants and...

...I don't care.

The connection goes dead. I look down at the phone just as a text message arrives. It's Olivia.

"Look down."

I do. And that's when it clicks.

Somewhere in this large expanse of land, buried under the rain drenched soil, is Olivia. And I have no idea how I will find her in time.

Another text message.

"I'm sorry."

I am suffocating. And if I can't get to her soon, so is she.

*****

Three Days Earlier

I wake to the muffled sound of argument. My head feels padded in cotton. I want to call attention to the fact that I am awake, but my body will not cooperate. The sounds of heated conversation spin around me and only one voice breaks through the thick mist.

"I want a full investigation." Olivia.

My eyes blink open. Once. They stick when they close again. Twice. White. White is all I see.

"I want to nail the bastard that did this to him to the wall." Olivia again. And she is angry.

"What I want to understand is how this made it to the media at all." Another voice, a man. The voice is familiar, but...not. "Nobody in the room believed that crime scene set up for a single second. So how did that headline end up in the Post?"

Detective Fuentes?

I launch myself up into a seated position, suddenly very, very awake. A pinch in my hand calls my attention to the IV in my arm. A hospital. What the hell happened?

"Gabriel." Olivia slides right into my line of sight. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I rasp, impatiently. And then my head rebels and it feels like everything inside of me rushes there and though I wince, and I do not look fine, that I know for sure, I manage not to grip my head and fall over which is very much what I would like to do.

"Yep. You look great." I pinch an eye open to look at her. Her lips are curved in a teasing smile. Her eyes tell a different story.

"What happened?" Not asking. Demanding.