Jason came up behind him and waited for Peter to continue through the restriction. As the minutes passed, Peter’s frantic kicking took on new meaning. He’s stuck! If he’s stuck, then so am I.
A thousand pinpricks stung Jason’s leg and clouded his mind. Bubbles joined the floating silt behind Peter. Jason worked his right arm forward and snagged one of Peter’s flippers. Peter stopped. In the narrow confines, they could not look at each other.
Jason angled his light underneath Peter, hoping it would illuminate where Peter was caught. Bubbles exploded from Jason’s rebreather as he screamed a muffled cry. His eyes wide, he pushed back from Peter—his light having revealed limbs slack in the water.
Maja.
Peter’s waist jerked free and tossed more sediment into the cloudy water. He vanished through the junction, and Jason hurried after him.
Jason contorted past the outcropping that snagged Peter. He swam down a tapered section for a short distance before squeezing through a final constriction and escaping the claustrophobic would-be grave. He floated for a long moment in what he felt was a massive cavern, then followed the stream of air bubbles toward the unknown.
Jason flopped out of the water onto the rocky shoreline. He rolled over on his back and lifted his sore leg. The skin felt tight and stung with movement. Sitting up, he removed his rebreather and screamed in pain and frustration. His voice echoed in the darkness.
“Are you hurt?”
Peter’s voice sounded foreign in the massive cavern. Jason swung his light around to find Peter crouched a short distance away. “I’ll live.” Jason grimaced. “How are you?”
Without looking at him, Peter said, “I could be worse.”
Jason shone his light as far as it would reach, but found only water and rock on all sides. He hobbled to his feet and cast the light overhead. It faded before reaching a ceiling above them. “This place is huge.” He glanced at Peter. “This has to be the largest cavern we’ve found.”
Peter rose and looked at Jason. “Are you able to dive?” He nodded toward Jason’s leg.
Jason coughed. “If the alternative is staying here, I’ll dive.”
“Maybe there’s another way.” Peter swung his torch over the shoreline. “Let’s look around, see if we find something.”
Peter scrambled further up the shore. Pebbles skittered beneath his feet and came to rest near the water. Jason turned around and gazed across the tranquil pool. At the edge of his light, he saw the wall that rested above their heads as they came through the restriction. Sweat again dotted his forehead. His beam swept down toward the water and stopped just above the surface.
Jason licked his dry lips, then hollered over his shoulder. “Peter! You need to see this.”
Pebbles cascaded down the slope to the water as Peter came up behind him. “What have you got?”
Jason pointed and said, “A circle with two tails carved into the rock. Alpha—the first letter of the Greek alphabet.”
Peter stared across at it and whispered, “The beginning.”
Jason’s palms were sweating. “We’re not the first people to be here, Peter. Alpha and Omega, beginning and end. Someone carved them into the rock, and I don’t think they did it for no reason.”
Peter blinked in the sparse light. “Good news for us then.”
Jason asked, “What do you mean?”
Peter clapped him on the back. “Whoever carved that symbol, I doubt they got in here the way we did. There must be another way in, and another way in is another way out.” He smiled and headed back up the bank. “Let’s find it and get out of here.”
Jason stared at the carving. What is this place? We’re more than a mile inside the earth—who would carve anything down here? To what end? He bit his lip in thought. Turning from the water, he hobbled after Peter, unable to shake the feeling that the carvings were a warning.
At the top of the rocky bank, he shone his light around but couldn’t see Peter. After a few moments of frantic searching, he said, “Peter! Where are you?”
No answer.
His light dimmed. It winked out and came back. In the moment of total darkness, Jason held his breath. He reached into his dive bag and felt around for his stash of glow sticks. He twisted one and an ethereal green glow illuminated the rocks.
Returning his attention to his pack, he rummaged for his spare battery. “Peter!”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the rock wall looked strange. Jason tossed a glow stick toward the wall and it slipped behind the rocks. His light dimmed again and went dark. He crawled toward the green glow and squeezed through a narrow opening. Picking up the glow stick, he held it overhead to show a downward sloping passage.
Jason picked his way down the makeshift staircase. Halfway down he saw a muted blue light shimmering ahead of him. He ducked under an archway and stood before a pool of water, lit from beneath by an eerie blue glow.
Jason heard blood rush in his ears and felt uneasy. He wobbled and ground his teeth together. Fury swelled within him as the pressure behind his eyes increased.
A hand fell on his shoulder. Jason lunged at Peter and slammed him back against the rock. Caught in a similar rage, Peter wrapped his fingers around Jason’s neck and squeezed. Jason opened his mouth and snapped his teeth together. He grabbed Peter’s wrists and crushed the bones together with surprising force.
Peter howled. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth, his face twisted by rage. Peter thrust his head forward and smashed it against Jason’s forehead.
Light flashed across Jason’s corneas and he stumbled backward. Peter charged him. He drove his shoulder into Jason’s stomach, lifted him up, and tossed him to the ground.
Jason snarled and rolled away before Peter landed a foot where his head had been. Pain radiated out from Jason’s leg, but it meant nothing to him. His hatred carried him. Peter roared and Jason answered with an unnatural growl. He lifted his good leg to keep Peter at bay, but Peter knocked it aside.
Peter pressed Jason into the ground, pinning his arms with his knees. Hot saliva dripped from Peter’s deranged mouth and landed on Jason’s cheek.
Peter grabbed a boulder from nearby and lifted it in both hands. Jason gnashed his teeth together. He squirmed beneath Peter, but could not free himself. With a final roar, Peter clubbed Jason with the boulder.
Jason’s nose cracked and his vision blurred. Pain erupted as blood poured from the wound, choking his breathing. Peter hefted the boulder again and smashed it against Jason’s forehead. A high-pitched whine deafened Jason as all light vanished from his eyes, swallowed by burgeoning darkness.
Jason woke with a start. His chest heaved and his legs spasmed. Memories rushed back, and he bolted upright. The cavern was dark, save for the eerie blue light beneath the water. Peter was nowhere to be found.
Jason crawled toward the light. Closing his eyes, he dreaded the sight of his ruined face. With a deep breath, he gazed upon his watery reflection. The face staring back was undamaged. Unbelieving, his hands roamed over his skin without finding injury. His leg no longer throbbed. Jason fell back on his haunches in disbelief.
His thoughts buzzed like an angry hive of bees. How is this possible? Why am I not dead? He held his hands in front of his eyes. Am I dead?
Jason crawled back from the water’s edge and found his dive bag amongst the rocks. He twisted on several glow sticks and laid them out around the cavern. The green glow revealed a space in the rock on the far side of the pool. Jason inched his way around the water while keeping his eyes on the ethereal blue beneath the surface.
However he survived Peter’s attack, Jason felt the luminescence played a role. Something stoked their rage, and something enabled him to survive lethal wounds. He felt certain the answer rested within the pool. With the whisper in his ear.
He reached the opening and ducked behind the rock. Someone had carved hand and footholds into the wall, stretching up into the darkness. Peter had to come this way. There’s no way he dove
back out. Jason began to climb the vertical rock face and in no time, he felt his legs and arms burn with exertion. He rested in what he hoped was the middle, but the complete darkness meant he could see neither the top nor bottom.
Jason climbed for several more minutes until the green glow he carried illuminated the top of the wall. He pulled himself on top of it and laid for a long while regaining his breath. His arms ached and his legs threatened to cramp.
Three stone beams stretched away from the wall, across what had to be the roof of the cavern. He saw several smooth stalactites dangling within the corona of his light. Which one, though? Jason strained his eyes to see across the expanse. Taking a chance, he picked the middle beam and crawled out on it.
Enveloped by pitch black, kept at bay only by his dwindling supply of glow sticks, Jason knew he needed to move faster. And yet, he had to be at least one hundred feet in the air where haste would not bode well for him.
He chanced a glance down into the nothingness below and at once regretted it. His head spun, and he had to stop until he regained his bearings. As he did, another stick faded to black. Jason twisted another one on from within his pack. Only three more left.
He quickened his pace. Did Peter come this way? The state he was in, could he have come this way? Jason’s knee slipped over the edge. He fell flat against the beam and gripped it like grim death. Swinging his leg back up onto the beam, he breathed a sigh of relief. Need to be more careful.
His light showed a stalactite grown into the beam. Cursing under his breath, Jason shifted around the obstacle, at one point needing to hang on to the calcite with only one hand to make it. A few more feet and his beam ended in open space.
No!
Jason felt his heart constrict. I chose the wrong beam. He considered going back and starting again, but the fading light of another glow stick told him he couldn’t afford the time to do so. He twisted another stick. Two left now. Options . . . ? The beams were spaced about five feet apart—a makeable leap with enough momentum.
But, only one shot at it. If I guess wrong, I’ll have to backtrack and I’ll end up down here alone in total darkness. He crawled backwards to build up running room. Jason crouched on the beam and tried to convince himself he could make the leap. Without room to stand up, he sprinted the best he could toward the end of the beam.
At the edge, he leaped straight across into space. His hands touched the target beam first, but his momentum carried his body past it. Digging his hands in, he clung to the beam while his legs dangled over the dark chasm. His shoulders screamed in agony. His fingers slipped an inch. Jason hollered and heaved himself up onto the beam.
He collapsed and shook from fear and exhaustion. I made it . . . I made it.
Jason travelled the rest of the beam without incident. It reached the wall he knew had to be where they swam through the restriction. He shone his light around and found a crevice in the rock. Sticking his hand inside, his light showed handholds like the ones he climbed earlier. Turning around, Jason climbed down the makeshift ladder.
Midway down, his light faded, and he climbed the rest of the way in darkness. When his feet touched bottom, Jason snapped a light on and saw debris scattered where smooth rock once stood. He stepped to the edge and almost cried out with joy.
The camp!
He dropped his glow stick twenty feet down into the sump, then followed it into the water.
Rising from the water, Jason felt the cold cling to his bones. He hurried up the slope and entered the camp. Ominous silence greeted him.
He grabbed a flashlight from the ground where it lay amongst the rocks. Banging it against his palm a few times, he brought it back to life. Its beam cast a spider web of light over the camp, the light housing cracked in multiple spots.
The camp lay in ruins. Tents were collapsed or toppled, equipment lay broken in the open, and his teammates were nowhere to be found. What happened?
Jason opened his mouth to call out, but stopped short of yelling. Peter must’ve come this way—he could still be nearby. Swallowing hard, Jason ducked his head inside the communications tent—one of the few left standing. “Dmitry!”
The burly Russian lay face down in the tent, one arm extended toward the mic dangling off its hook. Jason scrambled to his side. In close quarters, he noticed the bruising and bleeding wounds on Dmitry’s face and neck. Jason gasped. One hand covered his mouth while he felt for a pulse with the other. It was thin, but there.
“Dmitry, can you hear me?”
Dmitry groaned. His swollen right eye opened a crack. “Dmitry,” Jason asked, “are you all right?”
Another groan answered the question, and Jason felt stupid for even asking it. He wasn’t all right. Jason reached his arms beneath Dmitry and helped him to a sitting position. Before long, Dmitry slouched closer to the tent floor. He opened both eyes and coughed. Blood splatter hit the tent fabric behind Jason.
Dmitry fixed him with a stare. “Too late . . .” His voice sounded weak and unlike him.
“What’s too late, Dmitry?”
“All gone . . . everyone.”
Jason glanced over his shoulder. He felt exposed and uneasy. “Did Peter do this?”
Dmitry’s right eye widened. He coughed up more blood and grimaced in pain. “Peter . . . he was crazed. Never seen . . . such strength.”
Jason said, “I know. He attacked me, too.”
Dmitry looked at him. Jason flustered. “I heal quickly. Did he say anything? Why he did this?”
“Nothing.” Dmitry coughed again.
Jason reached over to the table and grabbed an opened bottle of water. He offered it to Dmitry and held it against his lips. Dmitry swallowed, the act obviously painful. Jason asked, “Do you know if Peter is still close by?”
Dmitry answered, “Gone. Headed . . . for surface.”
Jason grabbed at the mic. It swung away from him before he caught it on the return arc. “We have to warn them at Midway.”
Dmitry shook his head. “He won’t . . . make it . . . no oxygen.”
Jason calmed down. “The sump at Kvtochia, he can’t get through there without oxygen.”
“Neither . . . can you.”
Jason looked at him. “You mean, we’re out of oxygen?”
Dmitry said, “Peter . . . broke tanks.”
Jason rubbed at his forehead. “The storm up top—will this cavern flood?” Dmitry closed his eyes. Jason shook him, but received no answer. “Dmitry. Dmitry!” He checked for a pulse without finding one. Jason sat back.
No matter what’s happened to Peter, he’ll never make it through Kvtochia without oxygen. He’s as good as dead. Everyone else down here is dead. How long until power fails and I’m alone in the pitch black? How long until the water rises and I’m dead, too?
His thumb pressed the talk button of the mic. Static filled the tent. The white noise was oddly comforting. “Come in, Howard. Howard, are you there?” Static resumed over the air.
What can I tell them? Do I warn them about Peter coming? No, there’s no way he reaches him.
Static broke and Howard’s voice intruded upon Jason’s solitary thoughts. “Is that you, Jason?”
Jason pressed the button again. “Howard, there’s been a terrible accident.”
Howard asked, “What happened?”
Static roared in Jason’s ears. He knew it was his turn to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. “Jason!” Howard asked, “Is someone hurt?”
Jason stared at Dmitry’s corpse cooling before him. He pressed the button and said, “Everyone is gone. Camp is decimated. I’m the only survivor—for now.”
The static stretched for a long moment before Howard said, “My God. How? How can everyone be dead?”
Jason looked at the mic in his hand. He brought it to his lips and said, “Do me a favor, okay, Howard? Promise me no one else will come down here. The locals said these caves were cursed, and they were right. There’s something unnatural buried in this earth. Something . . .
evil. Promise me, Howard. Promise me no one else will die in these depths.”
Jason replaced the mic in its cradle, killing the static noise. He crouched in the tent a moment before ducking his head outside. Behind him, Howard’s voice pleaded for a response he’d never receive.
Jason wandered amongst the ruination of his dead friends’ lives. In the center of camp, he collapsed to his knees and turned the light off to conserve power. Darkness was his only companion as he waited for the end.
January 10
2026
Derailed
Fireworks exploded over the reservoir. Embers of light drifted toward the water where fish leaped to catch them. Nathan Miller watched from the terrace. Staccato pops drowned out most of the party noise behind him.
He worked a finger into the collar of his dress blues and gave a pull. The collar chafed and lent general discomfort to his evening.
“There you are, boss.”
Nathan turned from the fireworks. He watched sparks glint in the floor-to-ceiling windows as Tommy Roquefort approached holding a flute of champagne in one hand and a bottle in the other. “Having your own party, Roc?” Nathan said with a grin.
Tommy downed the flute and tossed it over the rail to the bushes four stories below. He smiled. “Shit tastes like piss, but beggars can’t be choosy, right?” He extended the bottle to Nathan, who refused with a shake of his head. “You’re missing your party, boss. What are you doing out here?”
Nathan answered, “Needed to get some air.”
Tommy reached over and straightened the gleaming medal pinned over Nathan’s left breast. “The hero role suits you, boss.”
“No more than it suits you or Buck or JC.”
More fireworks went off over their shoulders. Tommy leaned back against the railing. He lifted the bottle to his lips and held it there a moment. “You’re the real hero, boss. We just follow your lead.”
Dawn Page 2
