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The shotgun wouldn’t have the stopping power of a rifle, but the range would be point blank and he probably wouldn’t miss with the buckshot. Dave passed a broken, rusting pick leaning against a pile of rubble. His nose picked up the pungent odor of a skunk mixed with the cool, damp smell of the cavern. Faint footprints were visible in the mix of chipped rock and dust that formed the tunnel floor. They led deeper into the mine and Dave followed. After fifteen minutes of edging ever deeper into the blackness, he saw a dim light ahead. It was just a few pinpoints, really, like stars in a moonless sky, but it had to be coming from the back of the tunnel. When he arrived at the end, the lantern lit the rough-hewn, moss-cloaked timbers of a heavy door set into the rock. A crudely forged iron bar protruded from the face of the door, and Dave tried it. Apparently, this lever served as a release for the latch, because there was a hollow click, and the door moved slightly. A strong pull on. “I like how you look at me.”“Good.” I nodded and returned her smile.“I read something in some magazine. Maybe it was People. Not sure. Anyway, some famous female philosopher from France said, 'Men like watching women and women like being watched.' I think that's true.”Listening to Carla and learning more about how she thought fascinated me. I wanted to find out what made her so shy and frightened and what she wanted for her life. I remembered the conversation we had at dinner about security, how she really didn't want to be an accountant but was convinced to go for a degree so that she could work for her Uncle Charley.I remembered how she knew she needed an adventure in order to release her hidden self, and here she was sitting in Betty's Diner with me. I felt her intelligence, her need, her yearning and passion to feel alive and saw me as her way to escape. Looking at her I wondered, Is it possible to escape or do you always bring who you are with you?Just then, I looked up and saw.
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