worked.
“State your emergency.”
“My name is Honor Calhoun. I’ve been kidnapped. I’m being held against my will.”
“What is your location?”
I’m sorry , but I was offended. She didn’t gasp in outrage. She didn’t ask me if I was okay. She was like a damn robot on the other end of the line, asking me to take some stupid survey about orange juice or vitamins.
Hell-O ! I wanted to scream. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?
But I didn’t. Instead , I replied, “I have no idea. I’m in the woods. In a hole in the ground.”
The operator paused. I figured that was the biggest “Oh shit!” reaction I was going to get. I could hear her clicking away on a computer and I imagined her assembling the cavalry, riling the troops.
Go save Honor!
I’m a writer. I’m dramatic. Let’s all move on.
“Stay on the line while we try to locate your phone ,” the woman said. Clearly, she never wrote a thing. She probably didn’t even like to read.
Ring . Ring.
Hello?
I’ve been kidnapped. Someone wants to kill me!
Hold please.
I’d get better service at McDonald’s.
“Listen to me,” I said, ignoring her. “I’m in the woods. I’m scared. My name is Honor Calhoun . I live on Main Street in Slatington. Please come find me. Send help.”
“Hello?” the operator said . For the first time, emotion showed in her voice. “Ar… you… th…?” Her words broke up, the connection failing.
I gripped the phone tightly, suddenly sorry I made fun of her voice. She was the only one who could help me.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“We’ll do every…. we can —” the woman said, but her words were cut off when the phone lost its signal.
I groaned in frustration and pulled the phone away from my ear. I glanced down. Less than half the battery remained.
I thought about calling back. I knew it would probably be useless. Maybe in a few minutes whatever signal was out there would come back. Maybe she heard enough of what I said . Hopefully she got my name. She wouldn’t forget about me. It was her job to help.
Right?
If I couldn’t depend on someone else, then it was up to me to get myself out of here. I tucked the phone into the pocket of my jacket and looked up. The sky was utterly dark. With all the trees above, I couldn’t even see the moon or any stars. I could barely see two inches in front of me.
Waiting until morning to at least try to get out of here wasn’t an option.
I walked over to the wall and laid my palm against the loose, moist dirt. It crumbled slightly beneath my touch. I pushed harder against it, satisfied when it packed down. Using the toe of my right foot, I drove it into the side, kicking a little, trying to delve my foot in and catch hold. When part of my foot was solidly encased in dirt, I reached above my head and forced my fingers into the earth.
I started to climb.
I took my left foot and brought it up, trying to drive it into the side just a little higher than the right. It was more difficult than I hoped. I fell several times. Each time I got a little more desperate; each time I got a little more tired.
Eventually , I made it a little ways off the ground. My arms and shoulders trembled with exhaustion. I felt as if I’d just carried about fifty pounds worth of groceries up three flights of stairs and across a living room.
I paused in my efforts and leaned my forehead against the wall. The earthy smell of dirt washed over me. It was strong and outdoorsy. Any other time , I might have thought it was pleasant.
Now it reeked of death.
The phone in my pocket beeped and startled me. I let out a little shriek and jerked, falling off the wall and tumbling onto the ground, landing on my back.
I sucked in a sharp breath , which caused even more piercing pain than I already felt. My side ached. It felt swollen and uncomfortable, and I just wanted to lie there and cry.
I allowed myself a few long seconds to brush the sweat and dirt off my