Sinkhole

by Deborah Jackson

  “What the hell are you doing, Megan?” she asked again. “Ray shouldn’t be moved yet. He’s just starting to recover. Why in the world would you take him over the breakdown?”

  Megan looked flustered. “I—” she said. Slowly she got to her feet. “I think the organisms are moving.”

  “What?” asked Pete. He grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. “Moving?”

  Megan nodded and licked her lips. It looked like she was still tasting the kiss. This annoyed Kat even more.

  “Moving where?” she asked.

  Megan explained how she’d seen the organisms in the graveyard and even on the columns surrounding them. “I don’t know how they’re moving, but they were definitely closer to us. I couldn’t risk staying there and being cut off. Not when we’re almost out of here and Ray’s improving. I couldn’t allow one more of those vicious organisms to touch us.”

  Kat paused, trying to digest this new information. “They must have flagella,” she said after a few seconds. “The tails that some bacteria use to propel themselves through fluids. These organisms create their own biofilm and the cave is slick with moisture. That must be how they’re traveling. But why? What’s causing them to move?”

  “Humph,” said Pete. “Rotary motors. Found at the base of flagella in bacteria that can seek nutrient molecules.”

  Kat stared at Pete with dawning understanding and dawning horror. “Sugars or amino acids.”

  Pete nodded. “Us,” he whispered. “They’re looking for their prey.”

  “Oh no,” said Kat. “Not when we can finally get out of here.” She turned to Megan. “I’m sorry for barking. If they were approaching you . . .”

  “We’d better get back to the sump,” said Mark. “It’s safer there and we should get ready to leave.”

  Kat started at his voice. It was still so remarkable to hear it this far underground. “You’re right.” She introduced him to Megan, who nodded politely. Then Mark bent down to help Ray off the ground. This gesture surprised Kat, even though Mark was always the doctor first, the emotionally-charged human being second.

  “How are you, Ray?” he asked, supporting Ray’s trembling body as he hoisted him up. He scrutinized the wound on Ray’s shoulder. “Your mystery antibiotic seems to be doing the trick, Kat.”

  “Good,” she said, relief sweeping all the other strange emotions away. “Great.”

  Ray gave Mark a cold withering look, then, incredibly, he grinned. “It’s good to see you, Mark. It really is.” He shuddered and Kat thought he was going to collapse again, but Megan stepped in and held him steady—Megan, who was still grimacing with pain. Kat should be the one helping Ray. Or Pete. But it didn’t look like Megan was willing to be peeled from Ray’s side.

  “Do you think you can walk, Ray?” Mark asked. “We should get at least as far as the lake if these things are moving.”

  Ray, still looking gray and weak, said. “I’ll give it a try.”

  But his path was barred by someone else who didn’t appear ready to move. Jorge had shuffled to the lee slope of the breakdown and was eyeing them with a frown. “What is on the other side of the rock pile?” he asked.

  “A Mayan burial chamber,” said Kat, “and the deadly organisms that attacked Ray.”

  Jorge’s lips tightened. He peered up the side of the jumbled pyramid, his head tilted. “I would like to see it before we leave.”

  “That isn’t advisable,” said Megan. “The organisms are closing in on the burial chamber. It’s very dangerous.”

  Jorge stepped right in front of her and smiled. “You’re the archaeologist, right?”

  “Yes,” she responded.

  “You, of all people, want to leave behind the Mayan treasure?”

  Megan’s face blossomed with strength and confidence. After all her waffling, it amazed Kat to see it. “It isn’t worth my life,” Megan said. “And it’s definitely not worth Ray’s.”

  Jorge grinned. He touched Megan’s shoulder. “You have surprised me, all of you. I didn’t expect this . . . integrity. Go back to the lake and I will join you soon. I must have one look.”

  Jorge brushed past Megan, Mark, and Ray and began to climb the breakdown. Mark frowned, then turned toward Kat. “How many rebreathers do we have?”

  A stream of icy fluid washed through her veins. “I left mine by the cave rafts. Pete is wearing his.” Mark nodded, and she knew that he’d already counted. “I guess Megan’s and Ray’s are in the burial chamber.”

  Mark looked pained. He turned and took Pete by the arm. “You help Ray get back to the lake. I’ll join Jorge.”

  “Mark,” said Kat, stepping forward and touching his sleeve. “If the organisms—”

  “I know,” he said. “But we haven’t a hope in hell of getting out of here without the rebreathers.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said, although her legs felt rubbery with fatigue.

  He shook his head and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You have to help them get back to the sump. I’ll be fine. Trust me.” His eyes locked with hers and she knew that if there was any time in her life when she should, it was now.

  She nodded. He dropped his arms. He climbed.

  Jorge felt his heart hammer frantically as he ascended the pyramid of boulders. Soon he would reach the peak. He’d see what he’d thirsted for during these past few years, perhaps all his life. Despite the near-drowning, he was energized, revitalized by his visionary quest. He was so focused that the doctor’s sudden appearance by his side nearly catapulted him down the slope again.

  “What are you doing? I told you to help the others get back,” he growled.

  “I have to fetch the rebreathers. They left two behind.”

  Jorge grunted. The man was always measuring things in respect to saving lives. Couldn’t he see that his quest was hopeless? Even if he retrieved the rebreathers, one man was far too ill to combat the fierce flow of the sump, and the woman who’d fallen looked injured too. There was no way Mark could save them all.

  “That might be dangerous, doctor, if what the archaeologist says is true.”

  “Then why are you going?”

  Jorge felt warmth sizzle through his veins. “I am Maya. The only one to revisit the deepest chamber in a thousand years. I cannot leave without seeing all of its majesty.”

  Mark gave him a slanted look of suspicion as he climbed the next boulder. Well, let him suspect. It was true enough that the prospect of seeing this burial ground had teased him for some time. Now, to find out that what he’d suspected was true. The doctor still had no clue of how valuable the treasure within this cavern was.

  Jorge crested the breakdown and gazed into the chamber packed with grave goods and priceless artifacts. It was bathed in yax, the precious color of life. Interesting how that color now signified the opposite.

  “My God,” Mark breathed beside him. “The organism is bioluminescent.”

  “I guess that means it glows,” said Jorge. “And look, it seems to be trickling toward your friends’ camp.”

  The alien lights illuminated the pottery shards and statuettes, speckled the frescoes on the columns, and licked at the discarded packs in the center of the chamber. The rebreathers were just beyond them.

  Jorge smiled. The chamber was everything he’d imagined.

  “It hasn’t covered the rebreathers yet,” said Mark. “I’m going to get them.” He started down the slippery path, sidestepping the enormous boulders and treading carefully on the slickest rocks, but still making good time. He hadn’t even asked if Jorge would help. Maybe he assumed that the Maya was through with helping him. His assumption would be correct. However, Jorge wasn’t about to miss this opportunity to get a closer look.

  He skipped down after Mark, lighter on his feet, but a good meter behind the man. Soon they achieved the bottom and began weaving through the sculptures and ceramic bowls and vases, the serpent-head goblets and obsidian weapons. Jorge couldn’t help but admire his ancestors’ craftsmanship
. The winking lights made it all the more fascinating. Mark approached the scientists’ base camp with trepidation, his feet scraping the karst floor and his eyes darting to the sides where flickering lights freckled the ground. The organisms had made an arc around the rebreathers, as if assessing the packs first. They were probably not as damp as the dew-studded rock and were therefore more difficult to climb. Mark jumped forward and grabbed the two rebreathers, dragging them back from the feathering lights. However, one light twinkled on a strap.

  “Got them,” said Mark, totally oblivious to what he’d retrieved.

  “Good,” said Jorge. “I’ll carry one.” He reached over and picked up the tank and mechanism without the hitchhiking organism.

  “Thanks,” said Mark, clapping him on the back. “I was beginning to doubt you again, but I see that my instincts were right. You’re a man of principle, Jorge. And I’m glad to have known you. You’ve really opened my eyes.”

  Jorge felt that bloody twinge again. Why did this man make him balk at the action he must take? Why should he be the least bit concerned about a pampered millionaire? There was no other answer but that now he thought differently of him. Perhaps even as a friend. How could he justify what he was about to do?

  “Wait,” he said, as Mark shouldered the rebreather. He ripped his knife from his sheath and turned Mark around. The doctor frowned, but trusted him enough to offer his back to the man with the knife.

  Jorge plucked the glowing strap from its tether and sawed it off.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Mark clambered up the mound, breathing heavily. His muscles felt as if they might warp from the strain. Jorge, on the other hand, and despite having been resuscitated only a few hours before, seemed to have fully regained his strength. He shot up the embankment, easily carrying the rebreather, with hardly a puff of exertion. Again the man had rescued Mark from danger. Jorge had noted the organism on the rebreather, something Mark had missed, and had sliced the offending strap from the pack. Every time Mark began to distrust him, the man did something selfless. Mark tripped on a wobbly rock. Jorge reached out and steadied him. Jorge’s actions totally opposed the ideals he’d put forth in the conversations they’d had earlier, and the animosity he felt toward Americans and Canadians.

  When they reached the top of the massive breakdown, Mark glanced back. The steadily advancing biofilm had crept over the area where the rebreathers had been. They’d barely made it in time. But now they had hope. They had all the necessary equipment to regain the surface. He turned away and continued down the other side, careful to avoid the unstable area where Megan and Ray had fallen.

  The hike back to the cavern entrance by the sump took a good two hours. Mark and Jorge said little during that time—Mark mulling over their climb back to the surface and Jorge deep in his own thoughts. Once Mark broke the silence and regretted it instantly.

  “We’ll have to dive in pairs, I think.”

  “Right,” said Jorge, matching Mark’s stride. “We can escape through the blistering current with injured members. How far do you think we’ll get?”

  Mark scowled at him, then focused on the path. The man was constantly talking in circles. First he’d driven Mark on the most harrowing journey of his life, driven him to overcome his most debilitating weakness, and now he was slashing his hope to tatters. Why? Was it because he was so accustomed to hope being bludgeoned in his own life?

  Still the man had a point. Ray was incredibly weak, although Kat’s cave raft cure seemed to be working. How could he make it through the sump? Or Megan, who’d just taken a nasty fall, or Kat, who was fighting an insidious disease? Mark knew it was an impossible situation. But he couldn’t accept leaving one member behind, even if it was Ray.

  He marked distance by the wet slap of boots on karst pavement. His legs trembled from near-exhaustion, and he doubted his own ability to make the swim. After all, he was still the least fit member of the group. But despite his weakness, they were making progress toward the gap in the wall. He could see three figures standing by the natural staircase leading to the lake and the serene pool of cave rafts.

  “At least they’ve come this far,” he mumbled.

  Jorge glanced at him and shrugged. “This isn’t a sump.”

  “Dammit, Jorge. Do you have to be so pessimistic? We made it to them, didn’t we? And at times you doubted that could be done.”

  “Yes, I suppose we did. Although, alone, neither one of us would have survived.”

  “Well, now there are more of us to help each other. We’re going to escape this cave if it’s the last thing we do.”

  Jorge didn’t answer. His short forehead wrinkled up into his thick thatch of dark hair. He was so pensive Mark felt creepers of doubt thread through his mind. They walked the last fifty meters without further speech, stopping in front of the group.

  Kat didn’t restrain herself. She leaped right into Mark’s arms again. One look into her eyes and the iron weight of fear and doubt lifted from his shoulders.

  “You did it,” she said. “I knew you would. We have all the rebreathers now.” She tugged at the apparatus on his back and smiled with a radiance rarely seen underground. “Now all we have to do is swim out of here.”

  “All?” said Pete, his face crimped. “Do you remember how swift the current is? And this time we have to swim against it. With Ray,” he added.

  Kat’s smile wavered. She turned toward Pete with the ferocity of an animal. “What are you saying? That we leave him behind?”

  Pete held up his hands. “No. Where did you get that idea? I’m just stating the obvious. This is going to be a challenge.”

  “Challenge or not, we’re leaving here,” she snapped. “All of us! And I don’t think we should wait too long with that organism moving. We’ll rest for an hour. Then we have to try.”

  Mark nodded. No question. He glanced over at Jorge, who seemed extremely quiet. He wasn’t voicing reservations, but he was chewing his lower lip and gazing at the crawlway. Was he thinking about his own near-death experience on the way in? Was he contemplating an impossible return trip? Mark glanced toward Ray and a frisson rippled down his spine.

  “So that’s settled.” He wasn’t about to let Jorge voice the logical but unthinkable solution. “We’ll go in pairs. Each one will help the other through the current. I’ll go with Ray.”

  Kat arched her eyebrows in surprise. Her hands tightened on his arm. No doubt she realized that this was the most dangerous assignment, and that the possibility of losing both of them was very real. He gave her a reassuring smile, but the dance of fear in her eyes didn’t subside.

  With gentle fingers he pried off her hands and slipped the rebreather from his shoulder. “I’ll start bringing the rebreathers and packs into the next chamber so the rest of you can gather your strength.”

  “What about you?” asked Kat. She was reading his fatigue.

  “I’ll rest when everything’s assembled. If the organisms approach this section of the cave, we might have to leave quickly.” He moved toward the crawlway, but Jorge stepped into his path.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you go,” he said.

  Mark glared at him, wanting to bluster past Jorge. He was going to give voice to the madness after all, and Mark didn’t want to hear it. “What are you talking about?”

  Jorge’s lips held a wistful smile. “I can’t let you go, doctor. But I will take your samples, Mrs. Delaney.” He looked at Kat, raised his eyebrows, and held out his hand. “I assume you did collect some.”

  “Mark?” Kat looked questioningly at him.

  “This organism,” Jorge said, “will bring an end to poverty and pain for my people.”

  Mark gaped and broke out into a sweat. “Jorge, what are you talking about? We’re going to get out of here. Then we’ll talk about what we can do for your people. What the hell do you want with an org—”

  He stopped. So this had been Jorge’s plan all along. He knew a curse hadn’t caused the death of the ancien
t Maya. The chill Mark had felt earlier was nothing compared to the wintry blast that thrashed through him now. “After all your claims to humanity, your needling of my conscience, your posturing, your talk of compassion, this is what it comes down to? The curse . . . You suspected, didn’t you? And you wanted it. A bioweapon of enormous destructive power. You’re nothing more than a petty terrorist.”

  “Not really,” said Jorge. “But you wouldn’t understand anyway.”

  “Try me,” said Mark.

  “There isn’t time or I would enjoy another long conversation with you, doctor. Now, the sample.” He looked pointedly at Kat.

  “Over my dead body,” she said.

  “Very well.” Jorge pulled out his revolver and shot her.

  Mark watched the events unfold in a haze of horror. Kat being drilled backward by the bullet. A spray of blood. Screams like the bleats of panicked sheep. Jorge standing cool and unmoved, the smoking cordite biting the air with its acrid smell. Out of sheer reflex, Mark dove to catch Kat as she fell. As he saw blood seeping from her shoulder, rage boiled up inside him. How could he have ever trusted Jorge? He knew what kind of man he was the moment they’d been stopped by the paramilitary. But somehow Jorge had finagled himself into Mark’s confidence, playing on his guilt. Could it only have been a few hours since he’d saved the man’s life? The thought of letting Jorge die had been unthinkable. Now he wanted to kill him.

  Mark sank to the ground with Kat cradled against him. Her eyes were widened in shock. She gasped at the pain in her shoulder. Megan whimpered beside him, and Ray shouted in anger, but Jorge’s voice cut through the confusion and panic.

  “You will give me the samples now, or I will continue shooting until all of you are dead and just take them anyway.”

  Pete was the first galvanized to action by Jorge’s words. He dove for Kat’s pack and ripped open the zipper. A few seconds of rummaging produced some specimen bottles and Petri dishes. The microbiologist stood and held the containers out to Jorge.