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but once they had passed through the jail cell corridor she could no longer even make out Lane's white yachting cap. And the depressing atmosphere of that corridor, where prisoners must have felt they'd been buried alive, however briefly, had stricken all of them silent, so she hadn't even voices to guide her. It was impossible to see anything, even her own feet.
    The corridors twisted and turned in a dizzying maze. It had been so long since she'd been down here, she couldn't remember which passageway led where. She had never become lost as a child, playing in the basement, alone or with friends. But it all seemed different now.
    However it happened, the moment came when she found herself bumping into the small, arched doorway that led to the coal bin. On an impulse, she decided to take a look around inside. The bin hadn't been used in years, not since the gas furnace had been installed upstairs. But she'd had fun as a child, crawling in through the little window at ground level, to slide down the metal coal chute and play with the round, hard, black nuggets of coal still nearly filling the bin.
    "Hey!" she called over her shoulder as she lifted the wooden bar that acted as a lock. "C'mere, everybody! I want to check out the coal bin."
    When no one answered, Maggie hesitated. Were they already that far ahead of her? She'd only stopped for a second. She shouted again, then, deciding that it really didn't matter since she could always exit through the chute and meet them all outside, she went into the coal bin, leaving the door open, and ducked her head to avoid striking it on the frame.
    Inside, it looked the way she remembered it. Black as pitch but for a dingy glow emanating from the chute window, at the top of the front wall. Coal had been delivered through that window, spilling down the chute into the wooden bin at its base. The bin took up most of the space in the tiny room and an ancient black coal furnace sat in one corner.
    There are probably spiders in here, Maggie thought uneasily. And climbing up that chute now
    that she was grown didn't look as easy as it had when she was small. Besides, the window was probably locked from the outside.
    She turned to leave.
    A sudden whoosh of air hit her as the door slammed shut in her face.
    She heard the wooden bar on the outside of the door slam into place with a thud.
    She was locked in.
    After her initial surprise had passed, Maggie laughed uncertainly and called out, "Helen? Scout? Guys, this is not so funny! C'mon, let me out of here."
    There was no answer from beyond the door. The only sound Maggie heard was the stealthy rustling of some small creature deep inside the walls.
    She was alone in the coal bin and the door was locked.
    been found sooner, she might have survived. When I heard that, I got this awful, metallic taste in my mouth. She had certainly looked dead to me, when I rolled her body under the truck.
    She'd been lying there, alive, for hours? That gave me nightmares.
    But then someone said that even if she'd lived, she never would have been the same again. Her brain had been pulverized. I think whoever said that actually used the word 'Vegetable." Then I didn't feel so bad, because I knew how Christy would have hated that. I did wonder, though, if she'd been cold that whole time, although she'd been wearing a heavy coat in her favorite color, red, and black leather gloves. But she hadn't had boots on her feet, so they were probably cold.
    Not that it mattered. I mean, she was dying, right? Frozen toes were the least of her problems.
    The truth is, I have wondered, sometimes, if she actually knew she was dying. And what that would feel like. It probably would have made her really, really mad, because she thought she had the world by the tail and that only wonderful things were going to happen to her. I mean, she was young, she was pretty, and I know she had big plans, because she'd told me so, more than once.
    Well, you just never know, do you?
    Christy was