Twenty-Six
Tank leaned over to look down from the window. The sun was already halfway to its zenith, and there was no sign of the plane. Haley sat beside him, watching out the other side. Libby sat between them, which was a good thing, because he could feel the strain and figured Haley could as well.
“Wait, what is that?” Haley said suddenly. She leaned forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Go down. There’s something floating in the water.”
Tank could see it now. “This might be it!” He gripped the seat in front of him and watched as the plane swooped lower.
“I see a wing,” Haley called. Her voice quivered.
Tank’s stomach matched her voice. “Please, God,” he whispered.
Libby’s hand found his and squeezed. “A water landing might have saved them,” she murmured.
“Going in for a landing,” Chet said.
The other trooper grabbed the radio and told the other searchers where to join them. The plane dipped and bounced on the rough ground, then jolted to a stop. Tank exited the plane with Libby and Haley right behind him. Debris floated in the water. He looked frantically around for his daughter. There was no sign of her.
Haley’s hand gripped his arm, her nails digging into the flesh of his forearm. “Tank, look.” With the other hand she pointed to something floating among the weeds along the bank.
He inhaled sharply. A bloated body floated face-down in strands of dead vegetation. It doesn’t mean Brooke is dead. He lunged toward the woods. He had to find her. Stumbling a little, Haley ran beside him. “Brooke!” he screamed. His boot toe hit a rock, and he sprawled onto the sloping riverbank. Barely aware of his fall, he sprang to his feet and began to run again, shouting his daughter’s name until he was hoarse. He ran the length of the sand, too frantic to look for signs or footprints. “Brooke, Brooke, my baby girl.” He had to find her. He’d give everything he owned—his job, his home, everything—to feel her small hands gripping his face.
He finally stopped when he was so spent he couldn’t run any longer. Hemmed in by trees, he wasn’t sure where he was. His face was wet. He wiped it with the back of his sleeve, then turned and realized Haley was still with him. She was crying too. He practically fell into her arms.
She held him tight. “It will be okay. We’ll find her. They’re not in the water, so they have to have made it.”
He pulled away, then pulled her into his arms. He kissed her with the desperation of a drowning man. She was the only solid thing in his life right now. The love that welled up surprised him. She kissed him back with a strength and passion that made him cling to her all the more. “I love you,” he murmured in a broken voice. “I don’t want to, but I do. Don’t leave me.”
“We’ll find them,” she said again. “Don’t say anything you don’t mean.”
Did she think it was fear talking? He started to explain, but a shout from over by the water stopped the words.
“Tank, the dogs have a scent.”
“Thank you, God, thank you,” he muttered. Clutching Haley by the hand, he pulled her with him toward the rest of the searchers. The dogs were milling around. Samson woofed and strained at his leash. “Let him go,” he said urgently.
Bree nodded and unclipped the leash. “Search, Samson,” she said. The dog took off with the rest. Even Oscar was in on the quest. His tiny tail wagging, he stayed on Samson’s heels.
Still hanging onto Haley, Tank followed Bree and Kade. The searchers fanned out as the dogs raced over the ground undulating with golden grasses. They seemed to be heading for the closest mountain. The dogs never deviated from their straight course right for the hill. Maybe Brooke, sweet Brooke, would be in his arms before his watch’s hands moved to ten o’clock.
He glanced back to see the other searchers dropping behind. Libby was trying to keep up, but Erika and Augusta were at the back of the pack. He faced forward and pressed on to reach his daughter.
The topography looked increasingly familiar to Haley. She told herself it couldn’t be the site of the old dig. It couldn’t. But the panic fluttered more and more madly in her chest as they neared the mountain. She’d come so far in facing her fears, her nightmares. God couldn’t be cruel enough to pit her against the one thing she couldn’t bear. She looked back at the rest of the group. She wanted her grandmother, but Augusta was back a good quarter of a mile.
Tank still had her fingers gripped tightly. She tried to pull away, but he seemed oblivious to her state of mind. She jerked her fingers free. “Go on, I’ll catch up.”
He glanced at her leg and nodded. “Hurry.” He took off again.
Haley rubbed her knee. The mad run across the uneven ground had taken its toll, but her real reason for lagging behind loomed in front of her. It was the place of her nightmares. She’d vowed never to come here again. Never. She stumbled to her knees and stared. The opening to the mine yawned like the mouth of hell.
Shuddering, she clutched her arms around her. Feeling as old as Augusta, she finally got to her feet. Forcing herself forward, she kept her gaze on the mouth of the mine. She reached the rest of the group in time to see Samson run to the opening. Barking, he dashed inside, but not so far she couldn’t still see his tail swishing. Tank ducked inside, but the sunshine still illuminated his broad back.
He uttered a frustrated shout. “It’s blocked! There’s been a cave-in.”
Haley stumbled and nearly fell again. “No,” she whispered. She moved forward in a dreamlike trance. Her sister was in there, not Chloe this time, but Joy. Though they’d barely had a chance to get to know one another, she loved the young girl already. Hard and fast, the memories slammed into her.
Tank turned and saw her. “What is it?”
Haley marshaled every ounce of courage she could find. She wasn’t the same little girl who had cowered in the dark twenty years ago. She’d learned to walk again with one leg, learned to take the hard knocks that came her way. She could do this. She had to do this. She met Tank’s gaze. “I know another way in.”
His face changed, and hope glimmered in his eyes. “Show me.”
She led the way around the side of the hill. Clambering over rocks and loose shale, she pulled shrubs and vegetation away from the opening. “This leads to the main drift.” She took off her backpack and stuffed her jacket inside.
“What are you doing?”
She felt frozen inside, terrified, but she continued to move toward the dark hole. “I know the mine. And it takes someone small. You’re too big to get through in many places. I might even be too big, but I have to try. Give me a flashlight.” He pressed a flashlight into her hands. “If we get stuck, I’ll read her book to her. It’s in my backpack.”
“You’re not getting stuck.” Tank gripped her shoulders. “I’ll never forget this, Haley. You be careful. I don’t want to lose you too.”
She stared into his face. “Pray, Tank.”
“I haven’t stopped.”
Huffing and puffing, Augusta reached them. Her gaze took in Haley with the flashlight, then wandered to the mine opening. “You’re not going in there.”
“I have to, Augusta. The other opening has caved in. I have to look for them.”
“You’re not strong enough to do this, Haley,” Augusta said quietly.
“I know, but I have to.” Haley closed her eyes and inhaled Augusta’s sweet scent. She pulled away. “I’m the only one who knows where the mine goes. It has to be me.” Fear contorted Augusta’s face. “I’ll be okay. Pray.”
“I will.”
“I can go,” Bree said. “Samson will lead me right to them.”
Haley wanted to agree, wanted to step back and let someone else do it. Shaking her head was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “I need to do it. I know how it turns and where the floor gives way. But I’ll take Samson.”
Bree called the dog, and he came toward her. Bree snapped on a leash. “Since it’s dangerous, you’d better keep him close. Sound can be distorted in a mi
ne, so you need to let him lead you with the leash rather than rely on his barking.”
Haley nodded and wrapped the leash around her wrist. She turned toward the mine again. Her blood thundered in her ears, a roar that made it hard to hear anything other than her own fear. She got on her knees and peered into the inky darkness. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was too dry. “I’d better take your canteen along with my water bottle,” she said. “They might need water.”
Tank handed her the canteen, and she put it in her backpack. “Hand me your camera,” he said.
She put a protective hand on it. “No, I’ll keep it.” She turned back to the gaping wound in the side of the mountain.
“Wait!” Chet stepped past Tank. “Take my radio so we can know where you are.”
Her fingers closed around the radio he thrust at her.
It was a lifeline to the outside, more than she’d had the first time. At least people knew where she was this time and would be working to get them all out. “Thanks.” She stuck it in her backpack, then gave a last glance at the sun. She flipped on the light and let the dog go first, then began to crawl after him.
The light behind her dimmed. The tunnel narrowed, and she pressed past the tight squeeze against her shoulders. She stopped, her breathing too ragged to continue. She could do this. Everything in her wanted to back out the same way she’d come, to take a deep breath of cleansing air instead of this stale oxygen that tasted like dust. Samson tugged at the lead, and she let him pull her forward, even though a ragged cry of despair hovered behind her teeth.
Her knees burned from rubbing along the rough floor, even in her jeans. She came to a place where three drifts branched off. She could stand here. The light probed the recesses of the darkness. Above her head, the ceiling rose to a height of about twelve feet. The drifts were shorter, maybe six feet, but still tall enough that she could walk. She pressed the button on the radio. “Chet, Tank, are you there?”
“Haley, where are you?” Tank’s voice was like the sweet, clean air she craved.
“At the convergence of three drifts. I’m just catching my breath. The center one leads out to the main mine entrance. I’m signing off now. I’ll call again when I get to the main area.” She shut off the radio and stuck it back in her pack. The deeper she pressed into the mine, the more her fear mounted. As long as a few minutes’ crawl would get her outside, she’d been able to control it. She was going to have to go right past the drift where she and Chloe were trapped.
She heard something and turned to listen. Something moving fast in the loose rock. She swept her light around and saw Oscar come rushing toward her. “Oh, Oscar,” she said. The little dog leaped into her arms. She hugged him close as he licked her chin. “You weren’t about to be left behind, were you?” Still carrying him, she walked deeper into the mine. Loose gravel crunched under her boots, and she could hear the sound of water dripping. Her terror rose with every step. Why had she thought she could do this? Whimpering, she stopped. “I can’t go any farther,” she muttered. She backed away, then whirled to go back the way she’d come.
Coward. Failure. She stopped and told herself to take deep breaths. She pressed her forehead against the cool stone wall. “God, are you there?” She listened, but though she didn’t hear anything, she felt a warm wave of comfort wash over her. She’d been furious with God, but she’d never doubted he existed. How would she feel if he failed her at the end of this drift? What if she found Brooke and Joy dead? She slammed her eyes shut. Please, no, God.
Did that make him less sovereign? He had the right to do what he wanted with his creation. Standing in the dark tunnel with only a pinpoint glow to light the way, she remembered hearing her sister’s life ebb away. Haley didn’t deserve to have a happy life when her sister had none.
God is good, but he’s not safe. She remembered Tank’s comment. Ever since Chloe died, she’d been looking for safe. But life was never safe. She knew that now. Maybe that’s why she’d been attracted to photography. She could freeze life just the way she wanted it, pose it to make it perfect. She’d been frozen behind her camera, just like everyone told her—similar to the perpetual winter of Narnia under the rule of the White Witch. She didn’t deserve God’s grace though. She tried to remember what the book had said about the deeper magic. Her fingers were stiff as she pulled it from her pack and shone her light on it.
“It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a deeper magic still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.”
Death would start working backwards. Death had dropped into her life at age eight and had warped her life. Could God turn it around and restore the lost years? Haley wanted to find out. She dropped to her knees and opened her heart to the healing warmth of God’s love.
Twenty-Seven
The suffocating blanket of dust began to lift. Marley coughed and felt around for Brooke. She touched her small body curled next to Joy. Marley laid her hand over Brooke’s chest. Her heart still beat. She checked Joy and was relieved to find both girls still alive. She grappled with her backpack and found the zipper in the dark. There was another flashlight in there. Her fingers closed on the cold, hard metal, and she withdrew the light and flipped it on. Nothing.
She shook it and tried again. The blackness was complete. It was like being locked in a closet with no way out. She stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to keep from crying out. They were going to die in here. No one knew where they were. This hateful wilderness. It had taken her sister; now it was going to take her and Brooke. She had to try, though. They couldn’t just curl up here and die of starvation and thirst.
She felt in her pack for a bottle of water. There it was. She pulled it out and uncapped it, then ran her hands up Brooke’s body until she found her lips. “Come on, sweet girl, wake up.” She dribbled some water into Brooke’s mouth. The little girl coughed and sputtered.
“I want my daddy,” she wailed.
“Shh, shh, we’ll see Daddy soon.” She hated to lie to the child. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“It’s dark.”
“I know.” She patted Joy’s face and tried to rouse the girl, but Joy refused to respond. She was going to have to leave her here. Marley couldn’t risk sitting here and having another cave-in trap her and Brooke. She stood and took Brooke’s hand. “Come along, Brooke. Let’s see if we can find a way out.” She slid her hand along the wall, and they moved a few feet, then her hand felt emptiness. The tunnel turned here. She felt a draft and wondered if there was more than one tunnel. Shuffling sideways, she waved her hand in the darkness until she felt the opposing wall. Another drift led off here. Which way should she go?
In her mind, she flipped a coin and chose the left drift. Then she heard Joy’s voice crying out in panic. She hesitated, not wanting to go back.
“I want Joy,” Brooke said.
Marley shrugged. “Okay.” She turned toward the way she’d come. “Joy, over here.”
“I’m scared,” Joy sobbed in the darkness. “I can’t see anything.”
“I’ll keep talking. Our flashlight was broken when the ceiling fell. We’re okay though. Just come this way.”
Marley kept up the chatter until she felt Joy’s hand. “Now we’re all together.” At least they’d die together.
Samson strained eagerly at the leash, and Haley knew he’d picked up Brooke’s scent. She let him pull her along until they came to a fork. He yanked her toward the drift that led to where Chloe died. “No, Samson, not that way.” She tried to tug him toward the front entrance, but he planted his feet and barked. Oscar joined the cacophony. “Traitor,” she told him.
Could they have moved from the front? Haley hadn’t considered they might be wandering around in the dark. It was a good thing she’d brought the search dog. She radioed Tank and told him what she was doing, then followed Samson.
She so didn’t want to go down this drift. Though she understood now that God had forgiven her, the thought of reliving the nightmare made her shudder. Her stump ached, but she pressed on. She couldn’t quit now when she was so close.
The dogs stopped and sniffed. Haley swept the ground with the flashlight and saw where the ground had fallen away. Samson stepped cautiously to the edge and looked down. He barked, and Haley gulped. She hoped that didn’t mean Brooke and Joy were down there. She edged around the hole, then swept the light down into the recesses. She moved down the drift, and the dog followed without a complaint. She was tempted to start calling for them. If they were down this drift, surely that meant they’d survived the cave-in and were ambulatory.
The dog began to strain harder at the leash. He barked, then half-dragged her. She stumbled and went down on her stump. The pain encased her knee. She rubbed it and staggered back to her feet. “Joy!” she called. “Brooke, can you hear me? It’s Haley.” She thought she heard something and called again.
Joy’s voice answered her. “Haley? Haley, over here.”
She didn’t need their voices other than for comfort.
Samson knew right where he was going. Her wavering light picked up three figures huddled together against the wall. Joy had blood caked on her forehead, and a bruise marred Brooke’s left cheek, but Haley had never seen a more beautiful sight than the two children. Her gaze went to Marley. Her slacks were filthy and torn.
Joy stood and ran into Haley’s arms while Samson barked with excitement and ran to lick Brooke’s face. She put her arms around him. “Nice doggy,” she said.
Haley stood with her sister in her arms. She’d failed Chloe, but she’d come through for Joy. And she’d faced down her fears. She clung to her sister in a fierce embrace. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. Marley said nothing, but she lifted Brooke in her arms and followed Haley out of the mine.
Alaska Twilight Page 23
