Uriah feels confined. He doesn’t know where, how, or why. His head is pounding and his stomach aches as if punched but why? His memory is fuzzy and throat dry. The blackness is disorientating and frightening.
Why can’t he see?
His finger tips dace over his face to his eyes. Eyelashes tickle is exploring hands and panic sets in. His inability to see sends fear to his gut. Springing up, his head smacking something hard keeps him down.
Uriah’s hands feel his surroundings. Something rough and textured heightens his panic. Everywhere he turns the surface surrounds him.
Then it hits him.
The meeting. He was at the meeting and he cover was blown. Uriah feels for his gun: missing. Not surprising. He and his partner, Uilliam, went undercover in the local drug cartel seven months ago.
Now he’s what he fears is a coffin.
Wood groaning confirms Uriah’s worst fears. Panic sets in and his breathing increases. “Help!” His fists pound the wood, a splintered piece slicing his fist. “Let me out!”
What he hears increases his fear. The pounding of his fists sounds muffled, not hallow as if above ground. His nails scratch the wood trying to dig out. He’s bleeding but he doesn’t care, he wants out. Now.
He feels faint and it’s hard to breathe. Uriah realizes his air is running out. The black swims in color and his limbs become all to heavy. He knows his panic wasted his air, his stupid panic.
It becomes almost impossible to breathe and a minute later he can’t. The swimming black settles and the sound of his own labored breathing fades away.
Uriah recognizes his partner’s voice. He knew the man would come for him but he know’s Uilliam will be to late. He wishes he had the strength to hold on, to tell his partner Uriah loves him.
Sounds from above don’t matter to Uriah, not anymore. He falls into the blackness, nothing around him matters, his situation forgotten. Despite this, Uriah is aware of one thing. His heart is slowing, suffocating in the exhaustion of trying to hold on.