“Can we get Clara through it?” I asked.

Daniel looked at the narrow opening, then at Clara’s frail body.

“We might,” Daniel said.

“But it is a half-mile crawl in the dark.”

“And if Caleb has men in the woods, they will see us emerge.”

“We don’t have a choice,” I said.

I grabbed the iron ring and pulled with all my strength.

The rusted metal groaned, but did not budge.

Daniel joined me, his large hands gripping the iron beside mine.

“On three,” he said.

“One. Two. Three.”

With a loud crack, the seal of old rust broke.

A rush of cold, damp air hit our faces, smelling of wet earth and dead leaves.

Beneath the plate, a dark, narrow brick shaft descended into the blackness.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my hand.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I opened it.

It was a photograph of the well house.

But there was someone standing in the shadow of the door, holding a rifle.

It was not one of Caleb’s men.

The text underneath the photo read: