Eleven, Twelve ... Dig and delve (Rebekka Franck Book 6) Read Online Free PDF Page B

We have to wait till they start digging for us.”
    “But that could take hours. The hole might even cave again and we could sink in deeper!”
    I felt the panic spread throughout my body. The idea that we were trapped underground like this made me claustrophobic. The catastrophic feeling of death closing in on you.
    “We’ll run out of air,” I said.
    “Probably,” David answered.
    “Can’t we just try and dig our way back up?” I asked.
    “Probably not a very good idea,” David said. “The ceiling above might crash in and we’ll get smashed by the many tons of dirt and debris on top of us.”
    “But how will they dig us out if we can’t dig our way up?”
    David didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I knew. There was no chance in hell they would be able to dig us out.
    But I wasn’t ready to give up that easily. I had a family to get home to. And home I was going, no matter how. There had to be a way.
    With my right hand, I started digging into the side of the cave, while holding onto the boy with my left. I had promised myself to not let go of him again, so I wasn’t going to.
    I scratched the dirt away little by little, using my fingernails. After having dug for a few minutes, I suddenly felt David crawl up next to me, and soon he dug his fingers into the dirt as well.
    Even if it led to nowhere, at least it gave us something to do.
     

12
    T HOMAS S OE HAD no idea where he was. It was dark and he couldn’t see anything. His entire body was hurting and he couldn’t move.
    What happened? I remember falling. I remember sliding down. I remember dirt everywhere.
    Thomas coughed and spat out some dirt. His mouth felt so dry. He was very thirsty. Where was he? Was this just another of his daydreams?
    Carefully, he reached into his pocket and found his Zippo-lighter that used to belong to his dad, inside his package of cigarettes. He lit it and looked around.
    What was this place? Some sort of cave?
    He looked up and saw where he had fallen through the dirt ceiling. The hole had closed and shut off one end of the tunnel that he was in. At least it looked like a tunnel. He wasn’t sure.
    Suddenly, he remembered. The girl! Had she been another dream?
    Thomas heard someone moan and turned his head. It wasn’t her. It was a young boy. He was stuck under what used to be a garden fountain in Mrs. Bjerrehus’s front yard in number six. A monstrous baby angel in solid marble had landed on his leg, and it was bleeding. Thomas stared, paralyzed, at the boy.
    “Help me,” the boy moaned.
    Thomas had no idea what to do. All he could think of was the girl. He had to find her. If she was real, she could tell. If she told on him, she could ruin everything. The boy groaned in pain.
    “Please, Mr.?”
    “I …” Thomas paused. He had to keep focus. When had he seen the girl last? In the kitchen. She had hurt her head. And then it happened. He was pulled into the ground and he didn’t remember anything else but waking up in this strange cave that was just tall enough for him to stand up. What on earth had happened?
    It’s just a dream. You’re losing touch with reality again, Thomas.
    “Please Mr., please help?” the boy pleaded.
    Thomas looked at him while biting his lip. The lighter was getting warm in his hand. Was the boy even real?
    “Please? My foot is stuck.”
    Thomas knew the boy. Afrim was his name. He had heard his mother yell at him so often. They were Muslims. No one in the street ever talked to them much. They were never invited to the block parties. His mother wore one of those scarfs to cover up her hair. Thomas had never talked to them; he never really talked to anyone in the neighborhood. He liked to keep to himself. But he had seen the boy often. He lived across the street from Thomas in number four and rode his bike to school every morning, even though the school was his next-door neighbor.
    Maybe the boy knew where the girl was? Maybe he had seen her?
    Thomas kneeled next to Afrim. His face