Read Online Bad Nights by REBECCA YORK - Free Book Online Page A

that torture session.” The moment he mentioned it, he wished he hadn’t reminded himself of the pain. Grimly he added, “I’m dangerous, and you need to ditch me.”
    Her answer was swift and decisive. “No. I won’t last a couple of seconds out there without you.”
    Maybe it was the truth. Maybe she was saying it for effect. And maybe the idea of her ditching him made his stomach knot. He couldn’t sort out facts from supposition right now. And certainly not any personal feelings.
    Instead he focused on practicalities. Starting with his physical condition. He hadn’t needed another injury, but his head ached again, and also his ankle. He must have twisted it in the fall. Maybe broken it. Jesus, that would be bad news.
    â€œHow long was I out?”
    â€œOnly a couple of seconds.”
    That was the good news, he hoped.
    â€œYou said that man’s name. Trainer. The one you told me about before. He was the one torturing you?”
    â€œHis men were doing most of the work,” he clipped out, hoping she’d drop the subject.
    Gingerly, he moved his arms and legs. They all seemed to work, except for the pain in his ankle, but at least he didn’t think it was broken. Looking up to judge how far he’d tumbled, he saw smoke seeping into the tunnel from the crack around the closed trapdoor.
    When he began to cough, Morgan gripped his arm, reminding him where they were and why. Her voice was low and urgent as she said, “We have to get out of here.”
    â€œRight.” No time for self-recriminations or anything else besides the basics—survival. He’d figure out the rest of it after they got out of here. Pushing himself off the dirt floor, he winced as he felt new bruises that had joined the old ones.
    She helped him climb to his feet. While she was reaching to scoop up the knapsacks, he tested his ankle.
    â€œCareful of your head,” she said.
    He raised a hand above him, feeling the low earthen ceiling and stooping slightly as he steadied himself with a hand against the rough wall.
    Picking up the flashlight, Morgan shined the beam down the tunnel.
    It looked like no one had been here in the past century. Even with the support timbers every few feet, he didn’t like the odds of the ceiling holding, especially with the fire burning above and making the house shift.
    â€œYou ever been in here?”
    â€œI knew about the tunnel from listening to my grandma’s stories about the Underground Railroad. I found it and went down a couple of times.” She made a tsking sound. “Until my dad caught me and punished me for playing there.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œHe said it was old, and it could collapse.”
    â€œGreat.” He looked at the equipment they’d brought. It was tempting to just leave it, but he knew that would be a mistake. If they got away from here, they’d need the survival gear.
    When he scooped up a backpack and slung it over his shoulder, she did the same.
    She stayed right beside him as he tried not to limp.
    â€œYou hurt your leg.”
    He gave her the only answer he could. “I’ll manage.”
    He made his way awkwardly down the passage, keeping his hand on the wall and his shoulders bent so that he’d fit under the low ceiling. The position didn’t help his physical condition, but after maybe two minutes, they reached another ladder. It led to another trapdoor closed by a metal bar that fit into a metal slot. When he climbed up and tried to move it to the side, the bar seemed to have rusted into place.
    Behind them, the smoke was billowing more thickly, and it was worse up near the tunnel’s ceiling. Then he caught the flicker of flames coming from the room where they’d first entered.
    As he watched, the old timbers above the front of the tunnel began to smolder. They were damp and didn’t burst into flames immediately, but soon this place would be a barbecue pit,