Into Pitch — Black
The world exploded.
“The phone,” she said. “Throw it into the right tunnel.”
Leo didn’t think. He turned and ran, phone held out like a torch, the battery ticking down: 3%... 2%... The tunnel forked again, then again, a labyrinth blooming in the dark. He could hear something behind him now—not footsteps, but a wet, rhythmic pulse , the glow gaining. Into pitch black
Mira grabbed Leo’s wrist. “Now!”
Mira struck the match. It flared—a tiny, furious sun. The creature recoiled, hissing without sound. But the match was already burning down, curling toward her fingers. The world exploded
He burst into a chamber. And there was Mira.
Mira. She’d had the old camping lantern. The one that took six D batteries and could signal ships. Leo’s stomach dropped. “Where is she?” He turned and ran, phone held out like
“The small light. The dying light. It offends us.” The creature tilted its head 180 degrees. “The other one. The woman. She brought the proper light. The long beam. The hungry one.”