Chapter 5 - THE VOICE FROM THE DARKNESSThe rusty hinges of the steel bulkhead groaned in protest as the heavy doors rose an inch, then six inches, letting out a thick gust of freezing, subterranean air that smelled intensely of wet stone, iron rust, and old blood.
Daniel slowly backed away from Travis, keeping his service weapon drawn and aimed squarely at the opening dark void.
“Sarah?” Daniel called out, his voice echoing against the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin. “Is that you?”
A pale, skeletal hand gripped the edge of the steel frame. Fingers caked in dirt and dried blood curled over the lip of the concrete foundation. Then, slowly, a figure emerged from the depths.
It was a woman, though she looked more like a ghost carved from marble. Her long, matted brown hair hung in greasy tangles around a face that was hollowed out by starvation, her skin translucent against the gloom. She wore a tattered hospital gown that had long since turned gray with mold, and around her right ankle was a heavy iron shackle attached to a thick chain bolted deep into the foundation wall.
She didn't look at Travis. Her wide, haunted eyes locked entirely onto Daniel.
“You... you found him?” she whispered, her voice raspy and cracked like breaking glass. “Did you find my baby? Is Eli safe?”
“He’s safe, Sarah,” Daniel said, his heart hammering against his ribs as he stepped closer, carefully keeping his gun trained on Travis, who was still laughing softly from the mud. “He’s at St. Jude Memorial Hospital with a nurse named Claire. He’s alive and he’s asking for you.”
Sarah collapsed against the edge of the open hatch, sobbing dry, wracking tears that shook her entire emaciated frame. “He kept him down here... for three years. Every time I tried to scream, Travis threatened to throw Eli into the swamp.”
“You bitch,” Travis spat from the ground, straining against the handcuffs. “You ruined everything we built! We could have lived like kings once the state approved the highway expansion grant!”
Daniel didn't hesitate. He brought the butt of his heavy flashlight down hard across Travis’s temple, silencing the man with a dull thud. Travis slumped forward into the mud, unconscious.
Just then, the roar of heavy engines broke through the quiet of the forest. Three black-and-white cruisers bearing the county sheriff’s star broke through the tree line, tires spinning mud as they skidded to a halt around the clearing.
Car doors flew open, and half a dozen armed deputies spilled out, weapons drawn, shouting orders.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Daniel yelled, waving his badge high in the air with one hand while holding the radio mic with the other. “Unit 44! Suspect is down! We have a hostage recovered! Call paramedics to the back hatch immediately!”
Sheriff Miller stepped out of the lead cruiser, his eyes wide as he took in the scene: the rotting cabin, the open underground bunker, the emaciated woman clinging to the concrete, and Travis Cole lying face-down in the mud in handcuffs.
The sheriff walked over slowly, took off his hat, and ran a hand through his graying hair. He looked at Daniel, then down at the unconscious developer.
“Well, Reyes,” the sheriff murmured quietly. “Looks like you just blew the lid off the biggest corruption scandal this county has seen in fifty years.”
“This isn't just about corruption, Sheriff,” Daniel said, his voice grim as he looked down into the dark, flooded cellar beneath the cabin. “Look closer at the foundation walls down there. Travis wasn't just hiding Sarah.”
Sheriff Miller frowned, walked to the edge of the hatch, and clicked on his heavy tactical flashlight, shining the bright beam down into the dark corners of the underground cell.
The beam illuminated a row of rusted iron rings embedded into the damp concrete wall—and stretching away from them into the darkness were at least half a dozen more chains, all ending in empty, blood-stained shackles.
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Sarah grabbed Daniel’s sleeve, her fingers digging into his fabric with desperate strength.
“He wasn't just keeping me,” she whispered, her voice trembling so hard her teeth chattered. “Travis... Travis wasn't working alone. There were buyers. People coming from out of state. Men who paid cash for ghosts.”
