Bubbles Ablaze Read Free

rails and into the murky mine shaft. A flash of panic shot through my veins. I definitely did not want to go into an empty mine in the middle of the night.
    â€œWe’ve got to stop it,” I yelled, searching for a brake lever.
    â€œWe’ve got to get out of here,” Stiletto said. He took my hand, but it was too late. We had tipped over a steep decline and were hurtling downward with rapid momentum.
    I found the lever and tried to push it forward with no luck. The car just kept speeding faster. A hard object flew past us, grazing my forehead. I shut my eyes and prayed for the best.
    â€œAhhhh!” I heard myself scream as we descended into the dark abyss. Water sprayed my face and wet my hair.
    Stiletto yanked the lever from my hand and pushed it forward with all his might. There was a loud screech, the acrid odor of rusted metal heating up and then the car slowed, which was a good thing as we had arrived at what seemed to be more than a puddle. It was like an underground lake. Water splashed up, around and into the car.
    We stopped.
    â€œWhew!” I leaned back against Stiletto’s heaving chest. The cavern was pitch black, cold and reeked of dampness—a lot like my basement before I bought the Kenmore dehumidifier. Moisture dripped onto my hair and shoulders, sending shivers over my body with each drop. I put my hand out and touched a wall of rock about an inch from the car’s side; that’s how narrow the tunnel was.
    â€œYou okay, Bubbles?” Stiletto asked softly. “This is getting to be quite a night. Not exactly the romantic evening we had planned, is it?”
    I thought of where we were supposed to be—in a sensual entwining amidst warm red satin and cinnamon candlelight. I hoped I’d blown out those candles because we were trapped at the bottom of a clammy and frigid mine with no way to get out. It would be quite awhile until we returned to the Passion Peak.
    â€œI’ll be a lot better when I can see.” My fingers groped around the car floor. “Where’s that flashlight?”
    â€œI think it fell out on the ride down. I’ll use my camera.” There was the whine of a flash charging.
    â€œYou’ve been hit over the head, stuffed in a coal car and you still have a camera?”
    â€œIt’s a gimmicky Japanese job another AP photographer bought me when he was in Thailand. I had it in my back pocket. Here.”
    For a little Japanese job it emitted a huge burst of light. What it illuminated caused me to gasp in astonishment.
    â€œOhmigod. Do it again.”
    â€œYou saw it too, huh?”
    This time Stiletto leaned over me and, nearly tipping the car forward, activated the flash a second time. A blanket of white light revealed the track, which, indeed, was partially submerged. The passageway ahead was an empty black hole.
    Except for the body slumped against the far right wall.
    My first reaction was, poor Roxanne. Stinky had played his last practical joke.
    â€œDo you think he was the one who got shot?”
    But Stiletto didn’t answer. Despite his injuries, he was out of the car and stomping through the water. “Let’s see now. Here we go.” He picked me up and I flung my arm around his neck, careful not to touch his bruised cranium.
    Although he was working hard to sound calm, Stiletto was on high internal alert. The sinews in his neck stood out like steel rods, and his heart thumped faster than a racehorse’s. He took about ten paces and then let me down gently onto fairly dry ground.
    It was still so dark that I couldn’t even make out shapes. Stiletto moved around and then said, “Aha!”
    A beam of light shot out. Stiletto was wearing a headlamp.
    â€œI don’t even want to know where you got that.”
    â€œFrom him,” he said, pointing to the lump against the wall. “Itwas on his head. Though why it wasn’t lit is a damned good question.”
    I knelt down. The man