“And?” he prompted.
“It had the foulest breath imaginable. I swear, when I looked into those eyes–I swear I was looking at death.”
“It won’t be the first time that the Grim Reaper came looking for us.”
There was no sarcasm in his tone. The blunt acceptance of her tale comforted her.
“Why, Stell? Why did you come back here alone? I was looking for you. We were supposed to do this together.”
The sound of the waterfall filled the chamber. They were approaching the village and as the cavern widened the heat of the narrow channel and the deep sea vents was left behind. Comparatively cool air made Stella’s skin feel clammy under her wet clothes. She clasped her arms about herself.
“I looked for you,” she muttered. “I couldn’t find you. Jill was busy talking to that new guy, so I just–I just went.”
Light from the village torches finally reached them. Colin stopped her by cupping her upper arms in his hands. She was grateful for the heat.
“Did it hurt you?”
She shook her chin from side to side, feeling her throat close and tears bubble behind her eyes.
“Hey–”
He pulled her into his arms as her cheek rested against his t-shirt. The warmth of his embrace was the first touch of humanity she felt in this godforsaken hole in the earth. She closed her eyes and reveled in an embrace she had often fantasized about. But this hug was not a passionate declaration. This hug stemmed from need and camaraderie.
“Foolish,” he whispered.
She couldn’t deny the accusation, yet he didn’t seem to be reprimanding her.
“You scared me,” he uttered thickly.
Stella trembled. Whether it was from a chill or the hoarse declaration, she couldn’t tell.
Colin set her back and for a moment she searched his gaze. Was there an intensity to those forest-colored eyes that possibly relayed more than feelings of protection and companionship? He stared at her for a long time, with his hands still cupping her shoulders, and then finally he let go.
“Okay, tell me everything.” Colin cleared his throat. “How far did you make it into the tunnel?”
Still shaken Stella shared the few details she could. “All I can say is that the deeper you go into that tunnel, the hotter it becomes. I was sweating …now I’m just drenched from the water, and this cavern feels about twenty–thirty degrees cooler.”
Colin wrenched his head back the way they came.
“Those vents seem to be the life source to this place. I want to try and get back there. And I want–” he hesitated and regarded her thoughtfully, “–I want to find what attacked you. Maybe it was another survivor. We’ll have to check with Etienne.”
There was no point in correcting him that it did not seem human. But, in retrospect, what did she really see?
Those eyes.
They were savage.
“You’ve got to get out of those clothes,” Colin ordered. “You’re shaking.”
Stella felt a laugh rumble in her chest. It bubbled over her lips.
“What’s so funny?” Colin frowned.
“We’ve been in wet clothes more than we’ve been dry lately.”
To her surprise, Colin’s sober expression cracked into a grin. It was so attractive, right down to the tiny dimple on the left side of his lips.
“Yeah,” he agreed, and then glanced up at the waterfall. “I guess it’s something we’re going to have to get used to.”
“I always wanted to be a mermaid,” she joked.
Colin’s smile grew. He swept his arm out and executed a half bow. “My dear, Miss Gullaksen. Down here you can be whatever you want.”
Can I be your girlfriend?
Stella flinched at the rogue notion. She was eighteen-years-old. There was no need to act like a gangly teenager with a crush.
“The world’s first mermaid journalist,” she rushed. “I can fan myself with my tail as I’m conducting interviews.”
Colin laughed and it was good to see him relax. Even before the accident he had seemed distant from everyone on board, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” he murmured.
Heat bloomed in Stella’s cheeks. It helped battle the chill of the wet fabric.
“Goodness! What happened?”
Colin and Stella jerked at the unexpected invasion.
Margie waddled up to them, lugging a basket of clothes. She was short and had to support the basket against an ample hip, which threw her step off balance.
Stella and Colin exchanged a glance before Stella called out, “I was trying to clean off–and lost my balance.”
Margie’s loud guffaw was infectious. The woman set the basket down and rested her hands on her thighs, looking up at them, still chuckling.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done that.” Her glance dropped to Stella’s knees scored with abrasions. “Oh dear, you did take quite a tumble. We’ll get you cleaned up proper. I actually have some clean clothes here if you want to try something on while we wash yours.”
The woman must have read Stella’s skeptical face.
“Seriously, they’re clean. Take a whiff.” She hoisted the rubber basket, a composite that surely wouldn’t break down in the sea.
Stella leaned over for a timid sniff and was surprised at the fresh scent. She expected mildew, when in fact it was something more like soap.
“How do you–”
“Wash them? In water from the stream. There’s a basin behind that boulder.” She nodded in that direction where Stella caught a glimpse of a porcelain pot jutting out behind the rock.
“And we have accrued quite a bit of detergent over the years,” Margie added. “And we’ve managed to make soap bars with oils and perfumes that find their way down here.”
Soap.
The thought of it nearly made her swoon. Suddenly everything felt grimy. Her skin. Her clothes. It wasn’t that she had been in them for over two days, or that she had swam to the bottom of the ocean in them. It was the contact in the tunnel. She needed to cleanse herself of that fetid smell. But no amount of detergent or soap would cleanse her soul.
“I’ll need to borrow her for a few minutes,” Margie said to Colin with a wink.
Some color flashed in Colin’s cheekbones. But his lips thinned and he nodded perfunctorily. “Sure. No problem.” He backed away.
“Colin, we need to–”
She didn’t want to say out loud that they needed to talk to Etienne about what they found. Colin understood, though, and his expression softened some.
“I’ll wait for you. Find me this time.”
Stella’s lips curled up. “I will.”
Colin walked away, his long back damp from the waterfall.
“Your boyfriend?” Margie whispered with a slight jab of her elbow.
“No, no.” Stella’s face ignited. “He–he’s like an older brother. He’s got a girlfriend–or, he did.”
Margie followed the retreating figure with her eyes.
“Fine looking older brother.” She winked. “And his girlfriend sure didn’t follow him down here.”
Stella ducked her face and followed Margie towards the basin. It was an antique white cast-iron tub with clawed feet. It was empty and had surprisingly few stains. Next to it was a wooden pail.
“You can wash up here,” Margie said. “We take the bucket over to the stream and pour it into the tub. Nobody really sits in this tub. They use it more for a hand bath.”
Stella saw that the bathtub was strategically placed several yards away from a bend in the stream. Walking up to the water’s edge with the bucket, she knelt and let the heavy pail fill.
“Sorry, no hot water faucets, though,” Margie apologized with a grin. “Of course, the temperature of the water isn’t too bad in here.”
“It was actually hot where I–”
The woman’s gold eyebrow hiked up.
“Where I fel
l in,” Stella quickly added.
“You made it pretty deep into the tunnel if the water was hot.” Margie’s expression darkened. “Don’t wander off too far on your own.”
Was that a threat or a cordial suggestion? Best guess was the former, but Margie’s affable banter was back in full swing.
“Now, I have just the dress in mind for you while we wash your clothes. Go ahead and take them off back there and hand them out to me.”
Uncomfortable, Stella glanced at the boulder she was to undress behind. Technically the tub and dressing area was discreetly tucked away from view of the village, but it was still awkward. She tipped her head back to inspect the arched ceiling several stories above, half expecting a host of green eyes to be glaring down at her.
Stella’s gaze dropped back to the woman in tan capris and baggy blue blouse. Her arms and calves were pale, with some purple veins shooting upwards from her ankles. She wore a pearl bracelet and a costume pearl necklace, bangles that seemed ill placed for here.
“I’ll stand outside the boulder as guard, if that will make you feel more at ease, and I’ll lay something for you to wear right here.” She smacked the smooth rock face.
Stella eyed the laundry basket warily.
“These are clean. I promise. I washed them myself, and I have far more hang-ups than you do about putting stranger’s clothes on.”
That was plausible. This woman wore affluence as if it was a cape. The jewelry was a symbol from her life above.
“Is there someplace you use as a bathroom?”
This morning Stella had waited until she was behind the waterfall where she finally felt safe enough to relieve herself.
“On the other side of the stream. Further down. There are a number of private spots we take turns using. The waste is later gathered up and stored in a cave to help regulate the carbon dioxide.” Margie rolled her eyes. “Frederic’s idea. Trust me, you don’t want to get cave dung duty.”
Wrinkling her nose at the thought, Stella slowly stepped behind the boulder. She peeked around the corner waiting until Margie turned her back and crossed her arms, warding off any unwanted visitors.
Stella filled the tub with two buckets of water, enough to do a hasty hand cleansing. She grabbed the distorted bar of soap and took a sniff. It sure didn’t look pretty. Brown marble swirls through a grayish lopsided block. But it had a faint floral scent that wasn’t too bad. She dipped it in the water and washed it off before using it.
Confirming that Margie was still stationed as a guard, Stella began to strip. She hastily scrubbed her arms, grateful for this one act of indulgence.
“Oh, this will look lovely on you. Way too small for my hips,” Margie mentioned, as Stella saw her flip a white cloth atop the boulder.
Stella reached for it, surprised to find a white cotton dress barely stained and smelling surprisingly clean.
“Where did this come from?” she asked.
“A couple of suitcases and satchels have washed up down here. This one held no identification so I have no idea who it belonged to. We do get several nice clothing items from time to time, so there is always something to change into whenever you want to wash up.”
“You’ll show me where I can clean my clothes?”
“Of course! Remember about the chores down here.”
“Yes,” Stella replied automatically. “I remember. And I’m willing to help.”
Margie inclined her head enough for Stella to see the approving smile on her profile. The woman had ruddy plump cheeks. She wasn’t fat. Could anyone really be fat down here? But she was curvy, that was for sure.
“Jill–my friend,” Stella began, “she was talking to that Daniel.”
Margie’s smile fell as her cheeks settled into pools beside her chin. “Daniel Schmidt.”
“Are there others down here that we didn’t meet at dinner?”
As Stella hastily donned the dress she saw some of the tension leave Margie’s shoulders.
“No. You’ve met everyone. Daniel wasn’t too social at dinner. He is a bit of a recluse. I’m surprised he talked to you. It usually takes a few years to get a ‘hi’ out of that boy.”
“Well, he didn’t really talk to me. He has been talking to Jill. And it seems like it’s been longer than just, hi.”
The rounded shoulders behind the rock shook slightly as the woman laughed. “Yes, well I imagine a blue-eyed blonde could drag him from his brooding.”
Stella rolled her eyes, and then asked, “How did he end up down here?”
Margie crooked her head in each direction, checking to see if they were alone. Stella felt a little less vulnerable now that she was cleansed and clothed. The white dress fit her perfectly. Maybe it was a little long, but her biggest fear had been that it was thin enough to see through. That wasn’t the case however. She held her hand under the material and didn’t even see an outline. Once upon a time, this dress might have belonged to someone affluent. It evoked a beachy look while still seemingly elegant.
“Would you believe he fell off the QE2?”
QE2. QE2. Oh yes, the Queen Elizabeth 2 cruise ship. She had heard of it.
“Wow? So he’s rich?”, she asked.
Margie snorted. “You don’t have to be rich to take the QE2. You need some money, but not that much.”
Stella figured Margie’s perception was skewed by her own wealth. This was a woman who still clung to her above-sea arrogance, yet she did so cheerfully.
“I can’t even imagine falling off a cruise ship,” Stella marveled. “It’s amazing he survived the fall.”
Margie craned her neck, searching for the subject of their conversation. “I think the fact that he did is the root of his displeasure.”
Before Stella could mull that over, Margie startled her by smacking her palms around her plump cheeks.
“Look at you!” she exclaimed. “Just beautiful. You look divine.”
Stella stepped from behind the boulder, her fingers drawing the skirt out as she executed a slow spin.
“It fits. No one has worn it?” An image of the exotic Lauren clouded her thoughts.
“No. I just found this,” Margie said. “I was in the process of washing everything from a footlocker that washed up in the main pool. Like I said, I can’t tell anything about the ID, but the contents seemed dated. I’m surprised it’s in such good condition.”
Stella was about to retort, I could say the same about all of you, but she clamped her lips shut.
Instead, she asked, “Is Jill okay with him? This Daniel. Is she safe with him?”
Margie crossed her arms. “He is antisocial, not a demon.”
Surprised by Margie’s vehemence, Stella cleared her throat and fidgeted with the waistline of the dress. In half a second that congenial smile was back on Margie’s coral lips. “You have nothing to worry about from any of us, Stella. You can’t even imagine how much we welcome your company. We all look out for each other…even Daniel.”
Trust was something earned as far as Stella was concerned, and down here she was sorely lacking in that department. There was one person she trusted, though. She searched for him now, scanning the row of flickering torches leading to their quarters. There was no one there, but further down she saw Donald Wexler step down from the infirmary. A shadow filled the hatch and Colin appeared, climbing down behind him.
The two men walked away from the airplane, the deep undertone of their voices muffled. Stella stood rooted, unsure whether she should interrupt. She wanted to go talk to Etienne or Frederic about what happened to her, but having Colin at her side would give her a boost of confidence.
Just as she contemplated turning away, Colin looked up. His tread hesitated for a split second before falling back in alongside his father. Still, his eyes remained on hers.
The men continued to their rustic structure, but Colin did not follow his father inside. Don’s wavy crown popped back out of the doorway as he looked up at his son. A hasty conversation took place before he disapp
eared back into the shadows of the inverted boat.
Colin remained outside until finally he turned to face Stella. Dark eyes roamed over her dress and back up to meet her gaze. She stood rooted, immobilized by the intensity in his stare. When he started towards her she felt her breath hitch. She knew she was being ridiculous. Just the sight of this tall, rugged figure walking towards her turned her into a statue.
“Hi,” he said as he stopped a few feet away.
“Hi,” she swallowed.
Colin took in the dress again and his mouth curled up appealingly.
“Go shopping?” he asked.
“Umm, no.” She nervously toyed with the fabric. “I had to clean my clothes. The silt in that stream was all over them. And Margie–” Flipping her hand back towards the boulder, Stella turned to see that Margie was gone. “Well, Margie had this dress. It–believe it or not, it smells clean.” She tipped her head to her shoulder to take a quick sniff.
Colin took a few steps towards her. He held his nose up to the air. It was a straight nose with a little bump at the top. Maybe a childhood brush with a football or a tumble on the pavement. He had that bump for as long as she knew him so it wasn’t from a college brawl.
“You don’t reek.”
Stella’s mouth dropped open.
Colin chuckled. “Just kidding, Stel. You look good in that.”
Why did such a simple comment make her feel like she had a fever? Even now chill bumps popped up on her arms. She crossed them over her chest and muttered, “Thanks.”
Colin stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he craned his neck.
“Did you see Etienne yet?”
“No. I was–” she cleared the tickle in her throat, “–I was waiting for you.”
A quick nod of his square chin, and then one of those hands was out, reaching towards her as it gently touched her elbow.
“Good. Let’s go chat with the man, shall we?”
CHAPTER 10
It took a quick stop at the infirmary to learn where to locate Etienne. Sarah pointed them to the path that led to their shared dwelling, a yurt-looking cottage crafted from planks of a wooden hull. Light poked out of cracks in the walls and a burlap bag hung unfurled as a door.
Beneath Page 10
