“Can you tell me what the road up ahead looks like?” Dorran’s voice was just as gentle as ever, but Clare still scrambled for the map.
“The road stays bendy for a while then straightens as it travels over the mountain for about forty kilometres. After that, we’re back into easier terrain.” She had worked out their path earlier that day. Their journey from Winterbourne to the research institute had been a deep curve. The trip to Beth’s house, followed by a detour to the city, had more than tripled the distance to be travelled. By cutting across the mountains, they could shave days off their journey.
She hated the way the mountain felt, though—as though she didn’t belong there, as though she were a guest in a foreign land. It won’t last long. One hour, two tops, then we’ll be out the other side and heading towards Winterbourne.
Dorran’s eyes darted to her before reaffixing on the road. “The path is straight?”
“Yeah.” Clare caught herself. She hadn’t considered it before, but now that she looked again, the straight path seemed odd among the squiggles climbing the slope. It makes no logistical sense to have a straight trail through unsteady terrain. Unless… oh.
“It’s a tunnel,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Hm.” Dorran chewed on that for a moment without slowing the bus. “Are there any other routes around?”
Clare flipped through the map, scanning page after page. Her heart quickened, pumping a nauseating dread through her veins. “Uh, we would have to drive around the range…”
“How far is that?”
“Far.” She tried to picture the distance. “Ten, fifteen hours, maybe. Or more, if we can’t take the main roads.”
“We’d better continue along this path,” Dorran said.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind the extra drive.”
Dorran’s voice was soft, even comforting. “No, I think this is the best route.”
Clare frowned. It wasn’t like Dorran to be so comfortable about choosing a more-dangerous path. The straight line represented miles upon miles of enclosed, pitch-dark road with no escape. Just the thought left her cold.
She tilted her head back to see the reflection in her side mirror. Strange, gangly shapes followed the path behind them. She tried to count the creatures, but there were too many glinting eyes weaving over and across each other to keep track of.
It’s not a choice. We can’t go back. There’s not even the room to turn around before they catch up.
Dorran had seen them, too. He took her hand and squeezed it before returning to the wheel. “Don’t be afraid. We will be fine.”
She needed Dorran to be right—because they had no option except to find out. Warning signs lined the road, cautioning about tight bends without guardrails and turns only wide enough for a single vehicle. The path wove wildly, and Dorran’s lips set in a thin line of concentration as he fought to keep enough speed to move up the slope while still handling the narrow bends.
Something chattered near the back of the bus. The vehicle stuttered as an unseen force pulled on it.
“Don’t be afraid.” Dorran applied more pressure to the gas pedal. The bus surged forward, and the weight disappeared. Clare forced herself to breathe through her nose, taking deep, slow breaths that wouldn’t let her hyperventilate.
Perspiration dotted Dorran’s forehead. He didn’t try to wipe it away, not even when it trickled towards his eyes. His attention was wholly absorbed by the path ahead.
Then, suddenly, the road turned towards the mountainside. A gaping hole had been carved into the massive grey rocks. More warning signs flashed past too quickly for Clare to read. Dorran turned on the headlights as the bus lurched into the tunnel’s opening.
Chapter Two
Clare clutched the map, her knuckles white. She didn’t need it—wouldn’t need it for more than an hour, until the road deposited them back into the fields on the other side of the mountains—but she held on to it like a lifeline.
Glass light casings glittered across the ceiling, but the tunnel’s power was gone, and the arched passageway was desperately black. The sunlight flowing through the entrance faded within seconds, until the only illumination came from the headlights forming two jostling circles ahead of them.
Clare didn’t like it. The high beams didn’t reach as far as she thought they should have. They revealed patches of the pavement, perfectly straight and seemingly endless. Its diffusion brushed across the ceiling, enough to flash off anything reflective and to tease the shadows in between. But at the speed Dorran was driving, the lights weren’t reaching far enough to show any obstacles and still leave enough time to brake.
Please, please, let the tunnel be empty.
Clare knew that hope was thin. The tunnel’s perfect darkness and moist chill would make it an ideal home for the hollows—even more so than the forest. But the lights skimmed across meter after meter of ground, and still, they were undisturbed.
The bus began to slow. Clare finally tore her eyes off the road to glance at Dorran. His brows were low, casting heavy shadows across his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Clare whispered, even though there was no risk her voice would attract attention when the engine could accomplish the job first.
“They are not following us any longer.”
Clare twisted to see the side mirror. When Dorran tapped the brakes, red light flowed across the tunnel behind them. It was empty.
Clare’s stomach turned. She faced the path ahead again, trying to ignore the prickles growing across her arms. “You weren’t driving fast enough to lose them, were you?”
“No. They could keep up.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “They followed us into the tunnel for a while. Then they stopped, almost as though they had been spooked, and turned away.”
What could spook a hollow?
She saw her anxiety reflected in Dorran’s face. The bus continued to coast forward at less than half its previous speed, and he kept his attention fastened on the road. “What do you think? Drive cautiously or as quickly as we can?”
Not knowing what might be in the tunnel made the question impossible. Driving slowly would allow them to be followed, to be anticipated, or to be ambushed. But driving quickly could come to a sudden and unpleasant end if they encountered a blockage.
“Faster than this,” Clare finally decided. “But… not too fast.”
Dorran gave a short nod, and the bus sped up. Their headlights flashed over rock walls, the unmaintained white lines painted across the road, and the dead lights set into the ceiling. Clare craned her neck as they passed an unusual shape. It looked as though one of the lights had been torn out of its socket and was allowed to dangle from two cables. They passed the shape so quickly that she couldn’t get a good look at it.
Something had left score marks on the walls. The rough stone disguised the marring, but the tunnel was old—at least forty years, based on the style of the lights, and very rarely maintained. The exhaust from thousands of vehicles had blackened the old rock on the walls. Long gashes cut through the decades of grime, leaving marks of lighter grey decorating the walls.
Then something small appeared on the ground ahead. At first glance, Clare thought it was a stray rock. Only when it crunched under the bus’s wheels did Clare realise she’d been looking at half of a skull.