The Arena - The Moon Trilogy - Book #2

Chapter nineteen:

Clarity's heart jumped in her chest. She hoped they weren't sinking. That would be bad. Very bad.

Who was she kidding? Of course, it would be bad. At the moment, probably the worst thing she could think of was dying a slow death as their vessel slowly filled with water.

The angry voices raised in volume. It annoyed her to no end that she couldn't understand a word they were saying. She could figure out a lot more about their situation—most importantly if they would survive this—if she could just figure out what they were talking about.

The screeching sound continued, the unmistakable shriek of metal against something hard—probably a rock, considering where they were. Clarity wished she could cover her ears. The sound was terrible. It sent a shiver up her spine and filled her ears until she wanted to scream.

A few minutes of screeching later, and they were moving smoothly again. The yelling died down.

She sighed in relief. They weren't sinking, or drowning, from what she could gather. They'd probably hit an unseen boulder on the seafloor and grated against it for a few minutes until they were back in the open sea again. It was nothing to worry about.

She once again started wiggling her hands and legs, trying to pry herself loose from the tight ropes. Escape had replaced the risk of drowning as the first priority in her mind, and she worked desperately against her bindings. The cord cut into her skin, and she could feel her wrists already starting to rub raw.

But then she remembered a very important detail, and it stopped her in her tracks, turning her blood to ice. They had August. No matter how far she ran, they would always be able to find her. If she wanted to break free, she would have to set August free first. Or kill him.

The thought sent another shiver up her spine, and she forced it away. She would sooner die than resort to that.

Now that she was sitting absolutely still, with nothing to do and no way to escape, she found herself realizing how uncomfortable she was. Her wrists and ankles burned under the ropes, she was forced into an awkward position because of those same ropes, and she had a nasty taste in the back of her throat. She was also extremely thirsty. Somehow, though, her chapped lips came to be the worst problem. She licked them to try and get some relief, but her lips were salty with dried sweat.

She gave up and just accepted how crappy things were, listening to the distant hum of the submarine's powerful engine, thrusting them further and further, all the way to the very bottom of the ocean.

She suddenly sat bolt upright, ignoring the strain it put on her wrists. They were going to the bottom of the ocean! That's what the message means! We were underground, Underworld. We're going to the ocean floor, Atlantis!

She was about to share her discovery with the others when the lock on the door clicked again. Nothing but the faintest light filtered through the cloth that still covered her face, but then she suddenly found herself being jostled roughly to her feet. There was one person on each side of her, gripping her arms tightly.

She was forcefully escorted from the room, her feet dragging beneath her; she wasn't about to make it easier on them by walking. They led her left, then two rights. After a few more steps, she was lifted up by a hand grasping the back of her hoodie.

For the first time in a while, a stronger light filtered through the stitching in the bag over her head.

She was led farther, the footsteps of her captors echoing sharply through the angular, twisting halls of the sub. Their fingers were digging into her arms, and she could already feel bruises forming. They were certainly taking extra care to be rough.