“Matthew,” her voice came, sharp once more. Her hand squeezed his own hard, causing him to wince despite everything. “You need to stop, you hear me? You need to correct your thinking.”
Matthew, stunned at the scolding, like a slap in the face of someone hysterical, simply nodded in the darkness.
“I...”
“No,” she said, her words bullets to his brain. “You listen now. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to live. You’re going to be saved. Those are the words I want running through your head, you got that?”
Matthew nodded again.
“Say it.”
Matthew thought for a moment, then mumbled, “I’m going to get through this. I’m going to live. I’m going to be saved.”
“Good, good,” Dee cooed. “You just hold my hand, and you remember those words. You keep them running through your head like a cool river, understand? A bright blue stream of positive thoughts running right through you, refreshing you from the inside, okay?”
“Yeah, Dee,” he said, trying his best. I’m going to get through this. I’m going to live. I’m going to be saved.
He closed his eyes, imagined the words were soft water, running through him. He calmed, and, astonishingly, felt a little less thirsty.
“Dee?” he said, after a few minutes of silence. “Tell me something. Tell me about yourself.”
Dee’s fingers twitched within his, as if panicked, but then she gripped him tightly once more. “Okaaay,” she said, drawing the word out with what sounded like an amused tone. “What do you want to know?”
“Well,” he said, thinking. “What do you look like? How old are you? Do you have a family?”
She chuckled at his eagerness, and he smiled, relieved beyond measure. “Let’s see. I’m thirty-seven. I’m married. I have a husband, Frank, and two kids. Ten and twelve. Margret is the older, and Betsy, who was named after my great-grandmother.”
Matthew heard her stop, choking up a bit at the end. He didn’t want to make her sad, but he wanted her to keep talking. Needed her to keep talking.
“And what do you look like?”
She chuckled again.
“I imagine right now I don’t look like much of anything, I...” she stopped, as if distracted. There was a silence. Then, after a few more moments, she said, “I’m so scared.”
He gripped her fingers. “Me too,” he said quietly. Then, more loudly, playfully, “Now tell me what you look like.”
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’m five-five, so I wear heels a lot to work. Don’t like always looking up at people.”
He choked a laugh, pressed her fingers to urge her on.
“I suppose most people think I’m pretty, but I’m very conservative. Frank and I don’t go out much, homebodies, I guess. And now with the kids, forget it.”
“And,” he started, unsure how to continue, “you’re okay? You’re not... you’re not hurt too badly?”
There was another pause. When she continued, it was not in answer to his question. It came out of her as if spoken from a trance. “I work on the second floor. I’m a paralegal with MacKenzie Douglas. When I left the house, Frank was getting the girls ready for school. He leaves later than I do for work. He’s the day manager of RJ’s Grill.”
“Hey, I’ve been there,” Matthew interjected, more to cut off Dee’s eerie monotone than true enthusiasm. “I’ve eaten lunch there. You know, I probably met your husband, or at least saw him.”
“Today I wore my favorite work dress. It’s cauliflower blue with tiny white daisies. I think I’ve ruined it. Ruined...” And then Dee was quiet, as if she’d run out of things to say. Matthew waited for her to continue, but she said nothing.
“Dee? You okay?”
Her hand felt suddenly lifeless in his own, and he wondered with a small degree of alarm if she’d passed out. He wanted to tug at her fingers, pinch her, shake her awake. But he resisted those urges, simply held her still hand in his.
“I’m twenty-eight,” he said, quietly. “I have black hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Too pale for California, I’m always told. But I was born here. A native. Right here in Burbank. Weird, right?”
Dee’s fingers didn’t respond and she said nothing.
“My wife’s name is Diane. We have a two-year old son. Kelly. We named him after a friend of mine.”
Dee’s hand remained still.
“He died in a car accident. I’d known him forever. We grew up together. He was going to move to New York, become a writer. He was so talented. I know he would have made it, you know? You can just tell with some people.” He let the irony of his mistaken prescience slide away into the dark, ignored its withering tail. “Anyway, things happen. You can’t control fate.” He paused, gathered his thoughts. “I think we’re going to die, Dee. I don’t know how long we’ve been down here, but if feels like days, doesn’t it? Probably not, but it’s always so damned dark, and I’ve been going in and out a bit. I’m a little confused, to be honest.”
Matthew stopped talking, released Dee’s fingers.
He lay there, reciting the words Dee had given him. I’m going to get through this. I’m going to live. I’m going to be saved.
His damaged hand throbbed, trapped like a dying animal between his chest and the ground beneath. He let it throb. It was distant, no longer part of his body. He settled his head down again, thought about trying to sleep. Thought about his family.
Something large moved in the dark.
Matthew looked up and around, blind eyes jerking from point to point. “Dee?” he said, loudly. “Dee!”
She didn’t respond.
He reached out his hand, found hers, groped her fingers, pressed them, tried to elicit a response. The sound came from below, a few feet from his head. It was not Dee he heard. It was something else. How could something be moving beneath me? It’s all rubble... it’s impossible.
