Stopping to survey the five-foot burning Q-tip next to the crow’s nest, Stella had an excellent perspective of the village. Jill and Don had just ducked into the infirmary. Colin was on the basketball court talking to Loren. Margie and Jordan were preparing dinner in the café. Etienne was stringing rope–
Wait. What?
Stella’s eyes swung back to the basketball court. Loren was sitting with her back against the crooked basketball pole. Her arms were looped around her knees and her long black hair slid over her shoulders, concealing half her face. Colin stood a few feet away, looking down at her. Every now and then his hand would move to emphasize whatever he was saying.
What were the odds that there was a young hottie down in this vault? Could she ever catch a break?
Well, technically Loren wasn’t young. When did she come down here, twenty years ago? Eww, she was not young at all. But, there was no denying the appearance. What did she look like–maybe in her twenties? No one seemed to age too much.
A nearby sound distracted her from the display below.
Humming?
It came from further up the path. The only dwelling perched on this pinnacle was Frederic Nichols’ office.
Stella cast one last look below and then approached the barnacled wall, pausing just outside the wooden door. A glow poured through the slits in the wooden plank.
Interview.
Interview.
Interviewing bizarre characters was part of the job for a journalist. There was no place for fear in this occupation.
Stella lifted her hand and wrapped on the wood. It felt spongy under the touch and barely made a muffled sound. It was enough, though. A shadow passed before the light and the wood was sliding away in jerky motions as Frederic grabbed it from inside and dragged the huge plank out of the way.
“Stella.” He seemed surprised, but a sincere smile lifted his lips. “I’m happy you stopped by.”
Stella clutched the bottle of vegetable oil. “I was checking on the torches, and I saw your light on–” she shrugged. “You said I could see your maps sometime.”
“Of course. Of course. Come on in.” He bent over and grabbed a pile of paperwork off of a crate, and nodded at it. “Have a seat.”
Stella sat down feeling the bite of the wood scrape beneath her thighs. She stared at the painting of the clipper ship on the wall–such a mundane touch.
Frederic was bent over his desk, which was actually two barrels with a slab of wood resting atop them. His pale blond hair curled above the collar of his uniform jacket. From this perspective it was hard to believe his age.
Some of the scrolls he had retrieved were now scattered across that weathered surface. He unfurled two and jabbed his finger at the one on top.
“This is crude, and based off the data I saw coming in on the punch tape before the accident. But this is more or less where I’m guessing we are.”
It was hand drawn. A penciled etching of the ocean floor and its relationship to the surface. The Atlantic shoreline dipped into a plateau that formed a long shelf before plummeting to the abyssal plains at the bottom of the ocean. Several narrow trenches were carved into that shelf, their ominous depth emphasized with the heavy use of lead.
“Here.” He pointed to one of these carvings, its base reaching into the abyss. His finger hovered above the bottom. “This is my most educated guess to our location.”
The wavy line that represented the surface seemed nearly off the scroll in comparison. Overall it was a concise depiction, enabling her to easily envision their demise.
“Yes, that looks very thorough, but you mentioned maps of the caves down here. I’m still confused about what caves are safe, and which ones–”
Frederic stood upright. His blue eyes roved over her shoulder. “Looks like that is healing.”
Stella absently grabbed her upper arm, concealing the mark.
“Just a testimony to the fact that I need maps to learn my way around here.” Her grin was weak.
For an uncomfortably long time those blue eyes bore into her. “It’s very easy to determine which caves are safe,” he pointed out. “If you feel the heat rising you probably shouldn’t advance any further.”
Did he really think she was an idiot?
Stella returned his stare. She was surprised at what she saw there. It was not condescension like his gray counterpart. Appreciation–maybe even respect?
“I’m aware of that,” she replied drolly.
Playing the role of a twit might allow her some liberties, but it was hard for her to play dumb. And by the look on Frederic’s face, he saw through the portrayal.
“What were you looking for back there?” He cut to the chase.
“Certainly not what I found,” she countered.
Frederic’s pale eyebrow rose and an amused smile toyed with his thin lips. “I imagine not. Etienne tells me you claim to have run into some sort of creature.”
Twit or me?
Me.
“I did. It bulldozed me. That’s how I got the bruise. And before you all start telling me I’m affected by the atmosphere down here–”
“I’ll check it out.”
Stella frowned. “You believe me?”
Frederic shrugged. “I believe you saw something. I don’t believe it’s an evil creature out to do you harm. Either way. I will investigate.”
Was he pacifying her? She crossed her arms not sure how to gauge him. They stared each other down for a few more seconds.
“Am I the first person to see something? Have you had run-ins in the dark?”
Frederic tapped his fingers on the desktop. “We have plenty of little creatures we’ve stumbled upon. A variety of crustaceans living off the vents. Most of them are the size of a golf ball or smaller. And they end up on our dinner plates most often.”
Stella clutched her stomach.
“If you like seafood you’ll enjoy them.”
“I’m a hamburger kind of chick.”
“If you’re hungry enough you’ll enjoy them.”
“Point taken.” She dipped her head. “So, how do you get these little creatures if the vents are too hot to approach?”
Frederic regarded her a moment more and then reached for a rolled up piece of vinyl and expanded it atop the desk. Stella feasted on the detailed cave system, recognizing spots as the great chamber with its twin peaks, and the channel to the lagoon–the pool designated by a small rippling line. It was the rest of the schematic that drew her attention. She committed as much as possible to memory before he folded over a flap and used that folded line to point towards the waterfall.
“You were close when you traveled behind the waterfall, but you went straight, which is very dangerous due to the temperature and leaked steam. There is a chute here,” he pointed to a tunnel that she clearly missed, “it will take you to another chamber that offers safer water access to the vents. Not safe enough to jump into, but we’ve crafted some sophisticated nets and baskets that get weighted down and lowered. When we retrieve them, we’re often lucky to find the bottoms lined with creatures.”
“What made you even try something like that?”
“The edge of that pool is sometimes padded with dead crustaceans.”
“And why are they dead?”
Frederic quirked his lip. “Just as you would not expect to find a ventilated cave down at the bottom of the sea, neither would they. They get sucked up into that pool sometimes and the exposure kills them.”
With Frederic being so responsive, Stella began to feel more at ease. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and asked, “Why isn’t fishing for little sea creatures on my chore list?”
The blond man laughed. “It takes great skill, hey?”
“Show me once and I will master it.”
“I have no doubt about that, Stella. You seem like a woman who will do whatever she sets her mind to. Sometimes that determination can get you hurt.” He cautioned, eyeing her shoulder.
Stella reached up ag
ain to cover it.
“I’d rather be hurt than die of boredom down here.”
The levity left the Canadian’s face. “I don’t believe that. I see you as a much more calculating individual.”
It troubled her that her passive act did not work on this man. Time to change tactics. “Not calculating. Just curious.” She leaned forward to view the map. “So, what is behind the waterfall? I mean if you kept going the direction I was headed instead of taking the turn to the pool where you fish for worms and crabs?”
Frederic did not unfold the vinyl as she had hoped.
“It would take you too close to the vents. If you went much further, at a minimum you might get singed on approach. The further you traveled, the more damage. We had–” he hesitated and glanced toward the gap in his doorway. “–We had someone who did go back there. A survivor of a cargo shipwreck. A young man who went back there despite the warning. He didn’t return. We eventually found him. Sarah’s best guess at cause of death was akin to excessive smoke inhalation.”
Was the story true, or fabricated to frighten her? She would heed the caution. But she would also be mindful of what Frederic and Etienne seemed keen on hiding.
“Well,” she shrugged. “I guess I’ll stick to torch duty for now.”
Under that blue-eyed scrutiny she felt exposed. A chill wormed into her arms and she rose unsteadily from the crate.
“I better get back to it,” she hastened.
Frederic looked down at her. It wasn’t often that people were tall enough to look down at her. Again she felt like she was being analyzed on a microscope slab.
Eventually he smiled.
“Yes, you better. We don’t want to be without light, hey?” He hesitated and added, “You’re welcome here any time if you have questions, Stella.”
If you are so generous with the answers, why is that map still folded up at the corner?
“Thanks.” She reached for the door plank, but Frederic’s arm rose above hers to hoist the door to the side.
Clutching her supplies, Stella hurried from the cabin. She hiked back down the path, slipping several times on the granular surface. When she reached the bottom she swung in the direction of the supply cave.
The only other man in this underworld who was tall enough to look down at her now barred her path.
CHAPTER 11
“Hi,” Colin said.
Stella looked up and swallowed.
Colin seemed riled, his full lips tensed into a thin line.
“Hi,” she muttered.
“You were up there a long time.” He observed, glancing up the path before sliding his eyes back down to hers.
“You were busy,” she countered, searching the empty basketball court behind him.
A pleased glint sharpened his gaze.
“Jealous?” he probed with a soft grin.
“Uh–no.”
The grin faded. “Maybe I am,” he added softly.
Butterflies swatted around inside her stomach. Was he teasing her?
“Jealous of a man that is probably older than my grandfather?”
“He doesn’t look it. And I’ve seen him. He doesn’t look at you like a granddaughter. He watches you.”
Stella was still trying to process Colin’s innuendo that he was jealous. He couldn’t be? Could he?
“Frederic knows I’m interested in learning more. He let me see his maps.”
Colin snorted. “I bet he did.”
“Seriously?” She slammed her hands on her hips. “Just a few minutes ago you were watching Loren. So much so that I couldn’t even catch your eye before I went up there.”
A flare in his eyes suggested she’d hit her mark. She decided to dig in.
“And speaking of jealous. Don’t you have a girlfriend back in college who you’re cheating on with Loren?”
Colin sighed, but instead of looking angry he appeared more amused. That swagger on him was damn fine.
“First,” he began, “I have no girlfriend. I had one sort of. She said I was too busy. I’ve got two degrees I’m working towards. I have zero social life right now. I can’t afford the distraction. Second,” he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “How am I cheating? I was just talking to Loren. She seems nice.”
“I’m sure she’s charming.”
“Stel.” He grinned. “I was looking for you. I was looking for you when I ran into her. I–”
Suddenly Mr. Composure seemed unsettled. He reached out to touch her arm, but his hand dropped back down.
“Ah, forget it. I–”
“You what?” she prodded, calmer now.
“So what did the maps reveal?”
The obvious segue amused her. She actually smiled, which Colin slowly reflected. The tension dissolved.
“It’s what they didn’t reveal.” She began to explain about Frederic folding over the map to hide the section behind the waterfall.
“Well, you know what that means?” Colin hinted.
Stella tried to quell her nerves. “That means we’re going behind the waterfall?”
“You don’t have to go. I’d rather you stay safe back here.”
“And who is going to keep you safe?” she countered. “Of course I’m going with you.”
Colin looked conflicted. “All right, but if we see any sort of creatures, I’m hiking you right back out of there.”
“If we see one of those things you’ll be chasing my heels. No need to hike me out.”
He grinned. “We’ll have to wait. Until after the evening bell. After everyone is asleep. Will Jill hear you? She doesn’t know what happened to you, right?”
Why hadn’t she shared what happened behind the waterfall with her best friend? It was a rather simple answer. Jill saw the best in situations. Stella didn’t want to crush that optimism. That trait was something she was lacking and she needed it from Jill.
“No, I didn’t want to upset her. And I’ll wait until she falls asleep.”
Colin nodded his approval. “For now, I’ve got to deal with my father.”
“Deal? What do you mean?” She frowned.
“Maybe that wasn’t the right word to use. He’s upset, naturally. He spends all his time with Mom. But–”
“But?”
“There’s some tension between Dad and me. Down here–well, everything is amplified. He is spiraling into a depression and it’s hard to communicate with him. I pray Mom pulls through. He needs her. We all need her.”
Stella’s chest twisted at the pain in his eyes. She wanted to touch him. To offer some form of comfort, but felt self-conscious about it.
“She’ll be okay,” she assured feebly.
Colin looked back over his shoulder. “I better go to her.”
“If–if you want company,” she hesitated, “I can come with you.”
His gaze swung back. “I’d like that.”
“I don’t want to be invasive. I mean, I’ll wait outside while you talk.”
“Stel, you are family. You don’t have to wait outside.”
And there it was. The words to shoot down any fantasies she had been entertaining. Family. As she suspected, Colin thought of her as nothing more than a sister. She was deluding herself for thinking otherwise.
Stella hung her head and trailed after him.
Colin’s summation of his father was pretty accurate, Stella thought. He was reticent at times and combative at others. They took him from the infirmary to the evening dinner, but he remained sullen, his eyes fixed on the bowl of white lumps that were supposedly crab meat. Stella ate it. She needed strength to negotiate the erratic terrain of the caves.
Don just shoved his spoon around in the bowl. Already she could see signs of weight loss. The man was muscular by virtue of the rugged demands of his favorite sport–deep sea fishing. But now his shoulder bones protruded under his t-shirt. She glanced at the younger reflection next to him. Colin was slightly taller than his father, and he carried the same athletic physique the elder Wex
ler once possessed.
Stella shoveled another spoonful in her mouth, trying not to breath as she swallowed. It helped avoid the taste.
“How is Anne doing?” Margie asked to break the silence. As soon as she voiced the question it was apparent she regretted it.
Don did not look up. He did not acknowledge her in any way. His dark graying hair was matted and unwashed. He had not used the cleaning facilities yet. A quick whiff of the air confirmed that.
Beside him, Colin looked clean with the exception of the shadow of stubble that clung to his jawline. He had told her earlier that Jordan gave him a razor and he intended to try it. The last thing he wanted was the heat of a beard down here. Stella looked at the bristles on his chin and imagined what that texture would feel like under her fingertips.
She jammed the spoon in the bowl again.
As soon as Jordan rose from the table, Stella grabbed his bowl and her own and mumbled something about washing the dishes. Jill appeared at her side with two more plates.
“I’ll help with that.”
Some of the tension left Stella at the sound of Jill’s voice. It was melodically mundane in a world filled with tinny chaos.
“Thanks. I’m going to turn in after this.” Stella rolled her eyes. “Long day.”
Jill giggled. She grabbed a pail and filled it with water from the stream. When she returned she said, “I’m sorry you had to see my Dad that way today. He’s really depressed.” She scrubbed a bowl with a wiry cloth. “I mean, every time I look at Mom I want to cry, but I’ve come to terms with it, and I hate seeing her like this.”
“So do I,” Stella murmured in sympathy.
“But Dad–Dad gets so angry. He doesn’t deal with grief well. He’s not thinking about her. He’s thinking about being alone.”
“All you can do is be there for him. You and Colin are doing a great job at that.”
“Poor Col,” Jill shook her head. “He takes the brunt of it all. You know, they’ve been fighting since the end of last semester when Col announced he wanted to switch his major.”
“I thought he was all in for finance,” Stella frowned.
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