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Even my laugh cracks. I cough and then wince. Coughing hurts my headache.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, I close my eyes and dream about playing a round of golf with my dad.
I jolt awake, eyes wide open, wondering what woke me. Was that a sound? I take slow, deliberate breaths, honing in on every sense, focused on listening as if I’m taking a hearing exam. I let out a few curse words when all I hear is my own heart, hope quickly dying. But then I hear it.
A bark.
The hairs on my arms tingle as I listen again. It’s faint, very distant, but unmistakably a bark. Hope surges through me, filling my lungs.
“HELP! HELP ME!” I scream until my throat burns, my voice on the verge of giving up. But I keep screaming. Within minutes, emotion overcomes me. He’s here. There’s digging. He found me. He’s digging me out. Paws, fueled by determination above me, keep digging.
“Keep going. I’m down here,” I weep, pounding on the unforgiving wood, hoping without the weight of the dirt, it’ll give.
“What the hell?” I hear a man’s voice. “Is someone down there?”
“Yes!”
“Damn it, I don’t have a shovel.”
“Please, please don’t leave me,” I plead, a surge of fear gripping me at the thought of being abandoned. What if I’m buried in a forest where every tree looks the same?
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters. “I’m not. I promise.”
Clawing sounds reverberate on the wooden surface, then a slice of sunlight pierces through the suffocating darkness. Please. Keep digging. I’m down here. Please find me. Hysterical sobs erupt from my chest, a symphony of relief, disbelief, and overwhelming emotions.
“It’s okay,” the man reassures me, still pushing the earth away. “I’m going to get you out of there. Can you tell me your name?”
In between sobs, I manage to convey, “Kali Stevens.”
“Kali, my name is Paxton Turner, and I’m a police officer. You’re safe now. I promise.”
The knot of relief in my throat stifles any words. Tremors course through me, a mixture of fear and relief shocks me to my core.
“Close your eyes so you don’t get dirt in them. I’m going to pry it open.”
Eyes shut, I press my hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. The box creaks in resistance, giving the man a fight. But the moment the sun’s warmth caresses my skin, I struggle to escape, needing to flee the stench of my coffin.
“Hold on. Let me help you.” A dark silhouette against the shining sun, the man grabs under my arms, lifting my weakened body. He carries me a few feet away, placing me on the ground beneath the shade of a tree.
As fresh air fills my lungs, my head hangs low, tears still flowing unabated. I cough, feeling dizzy. My real hero, a German shepherd, sits beside me as if sensing the lingering threat.
“This is Officer Paxton Turner, Austin PD. I just found a woman buried alive. I’m going to need EMS, stat.”
I glance up to the man, his gaze pinned on me, and he offers a pinched smile as I squint, the sun still too bright even in the shade. He takes his aviators off and slides them over my eyes.
“Yes, she’s breathing.” He stands and scans the area, running his hand through his hair, says yes a couple more times and describes what he’s wearing, along with the fact that he’s armed. When he states the location, I lift my gaze.
Where are we? I’ve never heard of this town.
He looks down at me. “How long were you down there?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, still in shock. I don’t even know what day it is. It felt like forever.
His expression hardens. “Copy that,” he replies to the person on the phone. “Help is on their way. I’m sorry I don’t have any water.”
I nod, grateful for the air he gave me. The dog inches closer to me, his hair tickles my bare thigh. I rest my dirty, bloodied, and raw hand on his head and lean on him, struggling to stay upright.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
