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cleaned up the puke with an old shirt, struggled into the hall bathroom, and splashed cold water on my face. The purplish-red lines on my wrists had grown darker. I found some Ben Gay and a bottle of Bactine in the medicine cabinet and was trying to decide which one to slather on my hideous skin when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
    Tap, tap on the door. “Amy? You okay?” Mike said.
    “ I’m fine.” My voice had that I’ve-just-thrown-up shake.
    “ I thought I heard you throwing up.”
    “ Yeah, that was me all right. I’m okay now.”
    “ You sure? You think it was the chili?”
    “ No, I don’t think so. I’m fine.” No, I wasn’t fine. I stared at my haunted face and my purple wrists and wished Mike would beam himself back to the couch.
    “ Anything I can bring you? I could run to the store. The Giant’s open all night.”
    “ No, no, I’m okay. I’m over it now.”
    “ Okay,” Mike said, sounding reluctant to leave. “You call me if you need anything.”
    “ I sure will,” I told him.
    He waited another long minute, probably to see if I was going to puke my guts up again, and then his footsteps retreated downstairs. I knew he would do anything in the world for me, but I couldn’t face him right now. I soothed my wrists with Bactine and slipped into bed.
    I couldn’t sleep, though. The bones in my hands were killing me. After a few minutes, I got up to lay my wretched wrists on the cool windowsill and stare out the window at the stars, which turned my thoughts to Ben. I needed to buy some flowers for his grave in the morning, something with blue, his favorite color, like mine. We’d planned to do so many things before the wedding and now I—
    The faint shriek of the kettle came from the kitchen. Mike was making tea or coffee. I waited. Sure enough, sixty seconds later, his footsteps started up the stairs and came down the hall. A teacup rattled in a saucer outside my bedroom door.
    Tap, tap. “Amy?” Mike said in a low voice. “I brought you some tea.”
    I cracked the door, feeling awkward in my long shirt, and took the cup and saucer.
    “ Peppermint.” He stared at my bare legs. “It’s supposed to be good for your stomach.”
    “ Thanks.” I started to ease the door shut.
    “ You sure you’re okay? What’s that smell?”
    “ Medicine. I scratched myself. See you in the morning.”
    I closed the door. How many times had I said I was fine when it was obvious I wasn’t? I was surprised he didn’t slam me for it.
    The fragrant tea did smell good. I sat down in the dark and tried to think. I was crazy to go back, but the clock said twenty after midnight, which left plenty of time before daybreak.
    I put the tea down, skipped the useless shield, and turned on the flashlight, feeling like an addict with a secret obsession. Light flared across the device. Once it came to life, I found the gold lines again and pressed the one that represented an hour. Tingling pain ran through my hand when the probe grabbed my wrist.
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    The massive rock roof grazed the prisoner’s head as he waded in up to his chest. Water sloshed up to his chin. He was running out of room. When the tremendous roof finally met the water, he sucked in a lungful of air and dove under the surface.
    I streamed after him like a phantom. He turned out to be an experienced swimmer, but I wondered how long he could stay underwater or if we would even make it out at all.
    The black lake wound toward a distant wavering light. Nobody seemed to be following us. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see pale shapes on the lakebed. The prisoner plunged down and swam away with wild, hysterical strokes, but he’d disturbed something that popped up through the depths.
    The empty eye sockets of a human skull gazed up at us. Below it a horrifying pile of rotting bones littered the murky silt.
    The prisoner raced toward the light, made it out of the cave into an open body of green water, and broke the