Alan was cold, wet, sore, and had a pounding headache; all in all, not one of his better days.

Gingerly, he touched his brow, then his temples, then ran his fingertips over his scalp. There was a lump toward the back of his head that he quickly learned to avoid, but while his fingers got wet, they didn’t encounter anything sticky. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

He’d have inspected them for signs of blood, but his sole source of light was above him. Far above him. Just a blurry white circle that hurt to look at directly. He could see that he was in a cramped space, but he couldn’t even see himself clearly.

“Liz?” he called, or tried to; his throat was hoarse and, for some reason, dry. He swallowed a few times, then tried again, with a bit more of a voice and less of a croak. “Liz? C’mon, Liz, this isn’t funny!”

Damn it. How had he got down here? He remembered being sent out to play – like he was a kid all over again. He could drive, he could vote, he could drink, but his folks still sent him and his cousin out to play.

Play… yes, they’d commiserated over being treated like children, then Liz had shrugged and said if they were going to be treated like children either way, they really didn’t have much responsibility to not act like children, did they?

Thus, hide and seek. But he wouldn’t have been so stupid as to try to climb down the well. He’d been thirsty, and gone to draw himself a drink, but he wouldn’t have even leaned over it that far, much less climbed down.

Climb down… where was the rope, anyway? This was the old style of well, with a bucket on a crank and all, and that was the only way down. He wouldn’t have survived if he’d just fallen in, would he? But the rope certainly wasn’t down at his level.

He felt at the walls. Lined with stone, they were far too wet and slippery to give his fingers purchase. Maybe he could’ve slowed his fall by bracing against opposite sides, but that didn’t explain the lump on his head. Had he got partway down and then slipped?

Or had he been thumped on the head and pushed?

No, no. Surely Liz couldn’t be that vicious. They got along just fine, there was no reason for something like that.

Well, someone was bound to come out for water eventually. Or to come looking for him, once he’d been missed. All he had to do was sit tight, not panic and work himself into a state. That never helped.

Waiting would’ve been a lot easier if he had a clue what had happened.

It was hard to gauge time as he crouched down there, shivering, arms wrapped around himself, calling out now and then and listening in vain for a reply. His shirt was sodden, doing more to chill him off than keep him warm; he started to peel out of it. It was as he was lifting it over his head, the circle of sunlight blocked from view, that he saw the golden shine in the water at the well’s base.

Awkwardly, he crouched down on the little ledge. Without a moment’s hesitation he plunged his hand into the frigid water, up to the elbow and beyond. His fingers brushed cold metal… and then he knew no more.