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pulled his gun from behind his back, holding it loosely in his hand.

The echoes bounced back at them for another few seconds until the air dropped to silence again. The pair waited for a few more moments but there was no response.

“Perhaps he’s so deep he can’t hear us,” she said hopefully.

“Yeah, maybe. The footprints go in further,” he replied. “We’re here now so we should check it out. But best if we’re outside for when Sheriff Kehoe arrives.”

She nodded and turned back. Mitch noticed the light wobbled in her hands. Oddly, there seemed to be a breeze blowing in their faces, and with it the pervasive smell like from stagnant water—dead fish, methane, and a general slimy rottenness of fetid swamps, toadstools, and dead things that conjured images of a dank shoreline under an eternally black sky.

Mitch thought that maybe they’d find where the water level had retreated to and their way would be blocked. But looking down again, he saw that where they were the ground was already quite dry.

Karen headed off again, and Mitch stayed right on her shoulder. He had that tingling feeling in the back of his neck he used to get on night missions in the forces. But the last time he had it this bad, people died.

Not today, not on his watch, he thought, and never again. He pushed the memory down.

“Look.” She pointed. “The walls.” Karen held the light higher but it was far from steady. Where she illuminated, he could see that the walls were covered in what looked like tree roots. But they were glistening wetly and he had the impression they were like arteries and veins.

“Roots this far down?” she asked.

“It’d need to be a redwood or maybe giant fig tree.” Mitch frowned. “Weird.” He walked a few paces closer. “Hold the light closer.”

She did so.

“They don’t look like they’re growing down from the surface. But instead up from below.” He quickly checked his watch. “Come on, let’s keep going a little further.”

They continued on a few hundred more feet, and the walls were now totally ribbed by the roots. The silence was suddenly broken by the crunch of feet on gravel.

Mitch lifted his gun and dragged Karen to the side of the mineshaft.

“Hallooo?”

He felt relief wash over him. “Sheriff?” Mitch let Karen go and tucked his gun away.

The footsteps got louder, and the tunnel became illuminated by two powerful flashlight beams.

“Doctor Taylor, Vice Mayor.” Kehoe touched his hat and thumbed over his shoulder. “Deputy Anderson.” The young man with him nodded.

Mitch and Karen quickly updated him on their search and what happened at Joanne and Gary Adams’ place. The sheriff’s brows knitted ever deeper as he listened.

“Like Buford, and Harlen?” Kehoe’s brows went up.

“I hope not, but maybe. Joanne Adams was very sick,” Mitch replied.

Kehoe nodded. “And you think that they swam in this bad water and got some sort of mental sickness?” he asked.

Mitch wanted to keep it simple. “Or something they ingested, so maybe it’s contagious now, and we need to be careful,” he explained.

“What? Shouldn’t we be wearing protective clothing?” Deputy Anderson asked.

Mitch was sure the young deputy’s blush of pimples on his cheeks just reddened even more.

Mitch shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But for now, why don’t we just be careful and play it safe by trying not to touch anything down here.”

“After what you just told me, that’d be fine if whatever is down here doesn’t touch us either.” Kehoe hitched his belt and shone his light further down the mineshaft. “Well, let’s look for Benji. Deputy Anderson, get up here close by me.”

They headed further in and the deeper they went, the more they found that some of the walls had fallen in, exposing entire new tunnels. But these weren’t dug by miners and looked more like natural caves. There were also a few huge blocks of stone that had collapsed from the ceiling to the shaft floor.

Mitch stopped and stared at something stuck to the wall.

“What the hell is that?” Kehoe joined him.

“Yuck.” Karen spat.

The sheriff lifted his light closer to the foot-long glistening blob stuck to the tunnel wall. It looked like a greasy-black bundle of roots, spreading out in all directions and covered in growths like candy floss and bristled hairs.

But at its center, Mitch could make out a long, thorny mass with a pointed snout at one end.

“I think… I think it’s a rat. Or once was.” Mitch swallowed down some bile and wondered whether it was Willard, the escapee from his office.

“How…?” Deputy Anderson’s voice was reed-thin. “How did it…?”

Kehoe went to prod it with the flashlight.

“Don’t,” Mitch said.

“Why?” The sheriff half-turned.

“You heard me when I said don’t touch anything down here because it could be infectious, right?” Mitch stepped closer.

Kehoe turned back. “Yeah, yeah, maybe you’re right.”

They edged around the growth on the wall and continued on for another few minutes. The air was becoming more fetid by the step and the sheriff held up a hand.

“I don’t think we can go much further,” Kehoe said. “Getting a might dangerous.”

“The kids did, and so did some of the adults.” Karen pointed down at the ground. “We’re not leaving yet.”

Kehoe looked one way then the other. “Okay, we’ll give it another few hundred feet, but it’s a cave-in risk. You can see that too, can’t you?” Kehoe didn’t wait for an answer.

Karen held up her flashlight, trying to get in front, but after another few minutes they all slowed, becoming more careful as water dripped down on their heads.

“Goddamn stinks in here.” Deputy Anderson’s nose wrinkled.

“Must be stale air,” Kehoe replied.

The air was becoming so thick Mitch could almost taste it now. As they crossed by an alcove, Karen screamed and fell against him. Her light went haywire for a moment and Mitch grabbed her arm to steady it while also drawing his weapon.

In the side tunnel that had broken open, perhaps by the force of the water, stood one of the petrified statues. Karen held her

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