by Kim Liggett
As we’re stumbling forward, trying to catch our breath, Kit’s flashlight flickers a few times before burning out.
“Come on … don’t do this.” He slaps it against the palm of his hand.
“Does anyone have extra batteries?” Shy asks with a strange urgency to her voice.
“No.” I shake my head. “But this is a good reminder. We should probably only use one flashlight at a time from here on out.”
“Are you crazy?” Darryl says. “It’s hella dark down here.”
“We should be okay with my headlamp and one flashlight. We need to conserve batteries.”
“He’s right,” Shy says.
I’m a little surprised she’s agreeing with me on something, but I’m not complaining.
Kit grips Shy’s arm. “I can’t do the dark. You know that. I just can’t,” he says, sheer panic making his voice tremble. “I need my flashlight.”
“You can carry mine,” Darryl says.
“No. I need this one.”
Shy places her hand against his cheek. “It’s okay, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
As far as I can tell, it’s just a cheap red plastic flashlight, probably from the dollar store, but then I notice he’s got his name written on it in thick black marker. Property of Kit Jackson. This is something more than just being scared of the dark.
“How about we switch the batteries out,” I suggest.
“See?” Shy says as she pries the dead one out of his hands and quickly replaces the batteries from Darryl’s. “No harm done.”
“You can lead the way,” I add as she hands it back to him.
“Yeah … yeah,” he says as he stares into the warm glow, slowly regaining his composure. “That could be cool.”
Shy gives me a quick look of thanks before she remembers that I disgust her. I’m not saying she’s wrong, but I wonder what she sees in me. If she sees a monster.
As Maria and Shy turn off their flashlights and we continue forward, I feel a shift in the atmosphere. Maybe it’s just the dark, or the cramped quarters getting to us, but it’s more than losing a light. It’s a reminder that time is running out. Eventually, all the batteries will burn out, and if we can’t find a way out of here before that happens, we’ll burn out right along with them.
17
BATTERED and filthy, we trudge forward, cavern after cavern, tunnel after tunnel, dead end after dead end.
I’m not sure what everyone else is thinking, but Kit doesn’t even bother charging ahead anymore. Darryl and Maria are starting to pick at each other. And Shy hasn’t said another word since Kit’s light burned out.
All it would take is a tiny pinprick of sunlight. Anything to let us know that we’re on the right track. That it’s going to be okay.
I keep looking around for something familiar, anything I might remember from the guidebook, but it all looks the same to me now. The hollowed-out spaces, the towering columns, and delicate formations that I once thought of as beautiful look ugly to me now.
There’s no sign of the bats. No sign of life.
Except for the water trickling down the walls. It almost hurts to think about it. That water’s coming from the surface. For all we know, it could be right above our heads, but we can’t reach it. It’s like the cave keeps opening up to us in layers and all we can do at this point is trust that it wants to lead us out. I know that sounds crazy, thinking of it like that, but the more time I spend down here, the more it feels like a living, breathing thing, with lungs and a heart … a will of its own.
A huge drop of water falls from the ceiling, sliding down my neck. They call it a cave kiss, but it feels like an assault. The constant drip reminds me of the grandfather clock in our foyer. On the face, there’s a sun and a moon rotating in phases. How many suns and moons have passed since we’ve been down here? It’s impossible to gauge time down here, but it feels like weeks. I wonder if my family knows what happened. If they’re trying to find a way to get to me or if they’re secretly relieved.
But then my thoughts turn to my sister. How I’ve left her alone to deal with this … to deal with them. It seemed like the best solution, but now it feels like the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. And that’s really saying something.
That’s why I needed this to go as smoothly as possible, why I planned everything to the letter, because I didn’t want to give myself the time to go soft, time to sit and stew on everything that brought me here. And the more time I spend with these people, the more confused I become about everything. A part of me wants to just sneak off and bail. I’m good at that. But I can’t escape the fact that I’m the reason they’re stuck down here in the first place. I have to get them out of here. Because the alternative is too grim to even contemplate.
I don’t want to be the first to give in, but I’m stumbling over my own feet at this point, and what little visibility I have is playing tricks on me.
Every once in a while, I get flashes, shadows in my peripheral, making me think there’s someone behind me. I know it’s not real. It can’t be. I’m the last one in line. Even if someone was deranged enough to follow me down here, I doubt they would’ve survived the collapse, let alone made it past the boulder choke or the caved-in guano cavern. It’s probably just the rocks settling. The acoustics playing tricks on my senses. But no matter how hard I try to convince myself it’s just fatigue, the dark getting to me, I can’t shake it. If I close my eyes, I swear I can feel the whisper breathing down my neck. Closer … and closer …
I swallow hard, gathering the nerve to look behind me. As soon as I turn my head, something pushes me, or my knees give out—whatever it is, I go crashing to the cold stone floor.
When I open my eyes, they’re all gathered around, staring down at me.
“He’s still breathing.”
“He needs water.”
They press the water bottle to my cracked lips and I drink. It tastes like pure mud sliding down my throat, but it’s exactly what I need. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to get back on my feet, when Shy lets out a heavy sigh, sinking against the wall. “This seems like as good a place as any to rest.”
And I know exactly what she means. As miserable a place as any. No matter where we go, how far we walk, it’s the same. Cold. Dark. Damp. Unforgiving.
As everyone finds a place to sit, Kit starts going through my pack. Normally, it would make me crazy, watching someone mess around with my stuff like that, but I’m too tired to care. Pushing aside all the ropes and carabiners, he pulls out a silver pouch. “Recovery bag. What’s this for?”
“It’s part of the emergency kit, to help you get warm. Try it.”
I can tell he’s interested, but he shakes his head. “I’m not getting in anything that looks like one of those hot dog wrappers down at Fas Mart. If something comes at us down here and I’ve got to run, you won’t see me hopping around in that thing looking like a tasty treat.”
I know he’s probably just making a joke out of it, but I wonder if he feels it, too … like there’s something down here with us. Watching.
“You should use it.” Shy grabs it, tossing it over to me.
“Thanks,” I say as I try to unfold it, but my hands are still trembling.
“It’s more for me than you. Anything to get your teeth to stop chattering.”
As she’s helping me get into it, I say, “You know, skin on skin is the quickest way to warm up.”
“Not gonna happen,” she answers, but at least I finally got a genuine smile out of her.
Pulling the bag around my shoulders, I start breathing hot air into it.
“Shivering is good,” Maria says. “It’s when you stop being cold that you have to worry. That’s the second phase of hypothermia.”
“Remember that homeless guy you had to treat, down by the canals? They had to cut off his toes because of frostbite.”
“Babe.” Maria looks at him with wide eyes.
“What?” he says. “It’s true.�
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“Thanks for the uplifting bedtime story.” Shy glares at him.
“What’s this?” Kit asks as he holds up a puffy manila envelope with “Grant” written on the front in perfect cursive.
I know that writing; it belongs to my mother. But I was meticulous about packing for this trip. There’s no way I would’ve overlooked something like that … But then I remember the envelope in her robe pocket, how strange she was acting when I saw her in the hallway before I left. She must’ve slipped it in when she was pretending to adjust my straps.
I rip it open and find four packets of freeze-dried food. Just thinking about her doing something like this for me, in secret, makes my throat tight, like I can barely swallow.
“What’s up, dude?” Darryl asks. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“It’s from my mom,” I say as I sink into the dark for a few seconds’ reprieve. “She must’ve slipped this in my bag before I left.”
“What is it?” Kit asks as he continues to dig through the bag. “More first aid stuff?”
I pull out the packets. “It’s food.”
Everyone drops what they’re doing and presses in.
Shy studies me. “I thought you weren’t allowed to have food on this trip.”
“I wasn’t.” I glance up at her.
“Please tell me it’s beef jerky … or granola bars,” Darryl says.
Maria looks at him in shock. “You hate granola bars.”
“Not anymore.” He clasps his hands in front of him. “I love them, and all of their chalky, grainy goodness.”
“It’s better than that.” I smile. “Beef Stroganoff. Chicken pot pie. Mac and cheese. And one packet of Neapolitan ice cream.”
Maria inspects one of the bags. “I think this stuff has gone bad. It’s all hard.”
“It’s freeze-dried,” I say.
“Wait. Is this astronaut food?” Darryl asks. “The same stuff they eat up in space?”
“Basically.”
“Can we have some?” he asks, licking his lips.
“Of course.”
After a very heated debate on what to eat first, we finally decide on the chicken pot pie. Adding water to the pouch, we shake it up and pass it around. We don’t have anything to eat it with, so we just take turns sipping it out of the bag. It’s cold and slimy, but my God, it tastes so good. I know everyone’s starving, but we manage to make it last, passing it around more times than I thought possible.
“Remind me to give your mom a huge hug when we get out of here,” Kit says.
“Yeah … that’s not really her thing.”
“Hugging?” Maria asks.
I pull the recovery bag up under my chin.
“That’s all my family does,” she says. “It’s suffocating.” Maria picks at her blue nail polish. “But right now, I’d do anything to see them.”
Everyone’s quiet, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing. Wondering if we’ll ever see our families again. The mistakes we’ve made. What we’d do differently.
“Your mom can’t be that bad if she snuck this in your bag,” Kit says.
I pull my knees to my chest. “I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her. She was standing in the hallway on the second floor, where the nursery used to be.”
“Did she turn it into a huge closet?” Maria asks. “I always wanted one of those.”
“No. Nothing like that.” I stare off into the darkness. “They just plastered over the door.”
“Why would you waste a perfectly good room?” Darryl asks. “Did you have asbestos or something?”
“No.” I take in a shallow breath. “I had a little brother. David.” It feels good to say his name. “He only lived for about six weeks. But when he died, she just sealed it off and never spoke of him again.”
A heavy silence permeates the space between us.
“I lost a brother too,” Maria says quietly.
Darryl smooths his hand over her knee.
“I get it,” Maria continues, her eyes glassy. “Sometimes I wish I could forget. But his picture’s everywhere. They didn’t even get rid of his clothes. So not only do I have to deal with the memories in my head, I have to see him everywhere I turn.” She wipes away a tear slipping down her cheek. “Maybe your mom had it right. Life is for the living, you know.”
I nod, tears prickling the back of my eyes. “My mom’s always been strong. A lot stronger than me. Than any of us, really. Except maybe Mare.”
“Mare?” Shy asks.
“My sister, Meredith.” I smile through my quivering chin. “You’d like her. She’s a lot more fun than me.”
“No offense,” Kit says with a burst of uncomfortable laughter, “but that wouldn’t be very hard.”
“None taken.” I grin.
Darryl’s stomach lets out an angry growl. “The beast has awoken.”
Maria slaps his stomach.
“No, but seriously…” He shifts his weight. “When can we eat again?”
Kit picks up the remaining pouches. “So, if we have three packages left and they’re about five hundred calories each, that’s fifteen hundred divided between us. What’s your BMR?” he asks Darryl.
“I don’t know.”
“Just do 9.99 times your weight, plus 6.25 times your height, minus 4.92 times your age and add five.”
“Yeah, right.” Darryl laughs.
Shy grabs the packages, shoving them in the backpack. “All we need to know is that we have to make it last, just in case…”
“In case of what?” Darryl asks.
We all exchange looks.
“In case it takes a little longer than we think to find a way out,” Maria says, way too cheerfully.
Desperate for a subject change, I nudge Kit with my knee. “So, you’re good at math.”
“A little too good.” Shy glares at him.
“I don’t get it.”
“Don’t mind her,” Kit replies nonchalantly. “She’s still upset about my little brush with the law.”
“There wasn’t anything little about it.” Shy sits up extra straight, like she’s ready to pounce. “You were running a gambling ring.”
“Just fun and games.” Kit smiles.
“Not when you’re counting cards. Cheating people.”
“High yield, low risk.” He winks at me.
“Not low enough,” Maria murmurs.
“Look, it was my first offense. I got off on probation.”
“Which means if you don’t straighten up, you’ll be going to jail,” Shy says. “You’re better than that.”
“You should go to business school,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” Kit asks. “With what money?”
“There’s scholarships.”
“Not for people like me.”
I think about how easy it was for everyone I know to get into college. We didn’t think of it as a privilege. It was just another hoop we had to jump through to appease our parents. Stay on track. The track to what, I’m not so sure about, but Kit deserved that same opportunity.
“Maybe I can help with that.”
He looks me up and down. “Unless you’re some secret Richie Rich, I don’t see how. Besides, even if I had the money, the grades, I still wouldn’t be able to get in anywhere decent.”
“Why? You’re clearly smart enough.”
“And I’m also a felon now.”
I can’t help thinking about how unfair it is that I get a clean record while Kit will be marked with this forever, and over something so small in comparison to what I did.
“There are ways around that,” I say. “Maybe I can help with that, too … or my father can.”
“I knew it.” Darryl sits up straight. “Does your dad work for the government?”
“Sort of.”
“High-ranking military?” He scoots closer. “Because that’s my plan, you know. Marines. I’ll have structure, get in shape, help people … all the things you’re always talking to me abou
t,” he says as he looks at Maria. “And I like America. Yeah, it’s messed up right now, but maybe I can make a difference.”
“You can make a difference … here … with me.” Maria cuddles against his arm. “I don’t want you getting blown up.”
“But then you can put me back together again. It’s perfect.” Darryl kisses her on the cheek and she sinks further into him. “Maybe your dad could put in a good word for me, too … pull some strings?”
“Yeah, it won’t hurt to ask,” I say, shocked to find myself talking about the future in any capacity.
“You can cut the act,” Shy says. “I know exactly who you are.”
I’m not sure what my face is doing, but it feels like my insides are being carved out. I let out a deep sigh, bracing myself for impact, but it’s almost a relief.
“We went to the tree-lighting ceremony this year.”
“That was right before…” My voice trails off. I still can’t even say it out loud.
“Before what?” She gives me a puzzled look, but there’s no anger in her voice, no fear.
And I realize she still hasn’t put it together. “Nothing.” I swallow hard.
“Wait … did you guys hook up or something?” Darryl asks.
“No.” She looks disgusted by the idea. “His dad’s our senator. Senator Tavish.”
“No way.” Darryl’s eyes light up. “I knew it.”
“Your dad’s the senator?” Maria says, more as a statement than a question.
“Yeah.” I pull the heat bag up to my nose, wishing I could disappear inside of it. I’m waiting for one of them to figure it out, but it never seems to click.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Kit jumps to his feet, hitting his head against the rock ceiling. “That seems like key information. Like … Hey,” he says, rubbing his head, “my dad’s famous.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Shy says curtly. “We’re all trapped. We’re all equals down here.”
“Yeah … but if he’s the senator’s son, we’re going to get rescued, for sure. Maybe they don’t give a crap about us, but him? He’s our golden ticket.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to start talking about Willy Wonka again?” Shy groans.
