Sinkhole

by Deborah Jackson

  Could it be? Had the doctor somehow braved the sump, leaving his wife behind? But the moan had been high-pitched. There was no way the doctor’s wife could have swum through the sump with a bullet hole in her shoulder. That left the archaeologist. Interesting. She was a feisty girl. She had carried the hulk, Ray, over a mountain of breakdown. But he doubted she could catch him. She was too full-fleshed from her soft life in the U.S. He’d have to watch his back, nonetheless. Perhaps there wasn’t time to rest.

  He paused and listened one more time. The breathing seemed louder.

  Megan knew she should have rested longer. Her muscles ached, her heart pounded in her ears from exertion. But every time she stopped, her mind replayed the horror of the past few hours, ending in the wresting of Ray from her grip. As long as she kept moving—stayed focused on footsteps, the rope ascension, and plunging through the claustrophobic crawlways—the visions were kept at bay.

  She tried to remember to stop and drink every fifteen minutes or so. Otherwise, she would collapse from dehydration long before she reached the surface. She also munched on a couple of the remaining energy bars in her pack, infusing her muscles with sorely-needed fuel. Soon she’d have to sleep, though, or she’d never make the five-day haul out of here. The prospect of dousing her headlamp, of being alone in the sealed darkness of the cave, made her shudder. She shook the thought from her head and plodded on.

  After many hours, perhaps a day, she came upon the second sump. The sight of the rushing water freshened her pain, making the tears resurface. How could she fight her way through the water again, given what the last effort had cost? But the others were counting on her. In their opinion, the world was. So how could she not?

  As she changed into diving gear, her hand accidentally hit the intercom switch. There was no sound on the other end, not even white noise. That was strange. Surely Mark’s signal couldn’t reach this high through the rock. She moaned softly as she slipped the last flap of neoprene over her shoulder, then thought she heard a sharp intake of breath.

  Megan paused and listened intently. No more distinctive sounds registered, but she heard just the faintest whisper, like someone exhaling. Jorge was nearby and had likely heard her loud panting and moaning. He could be waiting for her on the other side of the sump, his gun drawn. She reached up and quickly switched off the PA.

  What could she do now? Should she plunge into the water knowing what might be at the other end? What if he cut the rope right while she was in the middle of the current? She’d end up hurtling through the mountain just like Ray. But if she did nothing, he’d get away.

  No. No, he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him. Not after losing Ray, especially when Jorge might have even sabotaged the guideline. Not after he’d shot Kat at point blank range without a care, as if she were so much garbage. Not after a man, someone so similar, had nearly destroyed her; a man who pretended to be upstanding but was warped and vicious inside. No way was he going to escape punishment this time.

  Megan splashed into the stream and seized the guideline, her lips set and her mind focused. She would catch up to him and make him pay, even if it was the last thing she did.

  Kat listened to Megan’s grunts and groans until the intercom went dead. At least if she thought of Megan struggling through the cave, she could eject the memory of Ray disappearing into the sump’s vortex from her mind. Somewhat.

  She tossed the mask from her head and looked over at Mark. He was slumped against a boulder, his eyes glued to the reckless current. His face was slack. She’d seen that look before when he’d lost a patient, when the ruthless sawing of bone and tissue had all amounted to nothing. Maybe that’s what he was thinking—that making this arduous journey and overcoming his worst nightmare had been for nothing. Even worse, he’d helped a terrorist get his hands on a newly discovered and deadly weapon. Kat couldn’t let Mark shoulder all the responsibility for that. He’d come here because of her.

  “Mark?” She shuffled toward him and sank down. Still favoring her wounded arm, she laced her left one around his shoulders, resting her head against his. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was my idea to send him into the sump.”

  “It was his only chance. At least one of us escaped. You have to think of that. Megan survived, and no matter what happens to us, there’s still someone out there to stop Jorge.”

  He nodded, but his shoulders sagged.

  “You look exhausted,” said Kat. “Just rest now. All we have to do is wait and see.”

  Pete scowled from where he was leaning against the wall. But he didn’t say anything, just slapped his palm on the limestone and sank to the ground.

  Kat curled up against Mark, wishing she could absorb his guilt. He wrapped his arms around her and she lay against his chest, still amazed that he was here. She wasn’t going to die alone, although she didn’t want him to die along with her. Sleep finally stole the swirling thoughts and pain from her mind.

  Kat awoke suddenly to some harsh noises. Crack, crack. It sounded as if a miner was hacking at the rocks with a pickaxe. She looked up and saw Pete hammering ferociously on a stalagmite.

  “What are you doing?” She sat up, jerking Mark from his much-needed rest.

  “Waking you up. You’ve slept for hours,” said Pete matter-of-factly.

  “By destroying another cave creation?”

  “It’s the only thing that seems to get your attention. I’ve hollered. I’ve stamped my feet. You were sleeping like the dead.”

  “Why do you need our attention, Pete?” asked Mark, a mournful tone in his voice.

  “Look at you,” Pete said. “After all your efforts, are you ready to give up now?”

  Kat frowned. “Don’t tell me you still want to try the other way?”

  “Of course I do.” He dropped the hammer and fell to his knees in front of her like a condemned man pleading for his life. “Megan might climb out of here by herself but, frankly, I’m not willing to wait. Even if she does break the surface, it’ll still take her at least a week. Before she gets back to some sort of civilization and finds help—and keep in mind that the police in this area are not very friendly to foreigners—how long will it be before another rescue team gets down here? Two weeks? A month? We’ll be dead long before that. Our batteries will run out and so will our food supplies. That’s assuming the volcano doesn’t emit deadly gas and the organisms in the cavern don’t get too hungry. You may be ready to lie down and die, Kat, but I’m not going down without a fight. We still have the drysuits, two masks and rebreathers, and another way out, treacherous as it is.”

  “You’re a rather miserable human being, aren’t you?” said Mark. “We’ve lost one of our members. Another is trying to beat the odds to the surface. Kat is injured from a bullet, no less.” He squeezed her good arm. “But all you care about is your own hide. You can’t even take the time to grieve.”

  Instead of looking sorry, Pete scowled. “Maybe I’m the only one with any sense. I knew the sump wasn’t a good risk. Yet you wouldn’t listen to me, and Ray is dead.”

  Mark winced and looked down.

  Pete continued. “But you did what was necessary to keep Megan going, to make her focus on survival. Well that’s what I’m doing. I’m trying to shake some sense into you. We don’t have time to sit around and grieve.”

  “I don’t understand you,” said Kat. “Wasn’t it just two days ago that you thought the other tunnel was impassible? You were ready to give up then.”

  “All right,” he admitted. “I was a bit pessimistic at the time. But I’ve thought about it some more, and I’ve decided that I’m not ready to die. And those are the only choices we have. Attempting the other passage or dying. Are you coming with me?”

  No one answered. Kat sighed and rested her head on Mark’s shoulder.

  “Fine. I’ll go it alone.”

  He scrambled to his feet and tossed his pack and rebreather over his shoulder. Then he crouched at the wormhole and began to crawl toward th
e other cavern, barely throwing a glance over his shoulder.

  “Maybe he’s right,” said Mark. “If there is another way out, maybe I shouldn’t have pushed for this one.”

  Kat felt thorns of anger prickle through her. What right had Pete to second-guess Mark, when he was the one who’d beaten all odds to rescue them? How could he play on Mark’s conscience when he had none himself?

  “You shouldn’t listen to him. None of us could have predicted that the rope would break. Ray would have survived, if not for wretched circumstance. We all would.”

  Mark opened his mouth to reply when a yell came through the crawlway, followed by a series of expletives.

  “Dammit! Kat, Mark! Get in here quick! I need help!”

  Mark scrambled to his feet and helped Kat to hers. They raced to the crawlway, squirmed in, and began to struggle through. Pain seared her shoulder as Kat elbowed her way forward, and she fell far behind Mark. When he emerged on the far side, he let out a shout and recoiled. Kat thrust out through the hole and peered around him.

  Green slime coated the entire camp, almost up to the wall. The organisms swarmed over Pete, sliding over his boots and crawling up his leg. He stared at them in bug-eyed horror.

  “I tried to get my pack, but they were closer than I thought. I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

  Kat stared at him, barely able to breathe. Then her eyes caught the strange emulsion on the ground near the pool of cave rafts. It was the same thing she’d seen under the microscope, only on a much larger scale. The bioluminescent ectoplasm had broken into smaller segments.

  “Into the pool!” she screamed, and dashed toward it, grappling for Mark’s hand.

  But he slipped from her grasp and did the unthinkable. He raced over the emerald carpet and literally threw himself at Pete, sending the man hurtling into the water. They both sank below, leaving behind a green skin on the surface.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Dazzled, Kat watched microbial warfare at work. The mossy skin on the surface of the water seemed to explode outward, breaking into a thousand tiny islands that eventually collapsed inward, leaving a few isolated clumps like atolls in the Pacific. The floating froth engulfed the remaining floes and chewed until there was nothing left. The fight also continued on the rock floor by the crawlway. The seemingly inert microbes from the cave rafts had slopped over the path, a movement that was likely triggered by their first encounter with the killer bug and the vigorous battle between the two. They barred the way to the other chamber, menacing the deadly organisms. The flickering biofilm fell back, retracting into the depths of the cavern.

  Mark and Pete surfaced, washed free of the killer bug, though coated with milky ectoplasm. They shivered and Kat knew they were feeling the needle sensations the microbes created as they wiped out any leftover toxic specimens. Kat could feel the influence of the microbes too, at the bullet wound, cleansing her of any possible infection and spreading a healing balm over her skin. This organism would give traditional antibiotics a run for their money. But what really interested her was the way it had forced the microbes back from the exit, from the sump that would take them out of this enclosed cavern.

  “Pete, Mark, are you okay?”

  “I-I’m not sure,” said Pete, biting his lip as he examined his skin.

  “I’m fine,” said Mark. “A little stabbing pain, but nothing I can’t handle.”

  Kat grinned and slogged through the water to reach him. “It’s just the organism, healing you, killing the deadly microbe and neutralizing any toxins it injected. It’s quite amazing, this nanobacteria.”

  Mark’s face crinkled as he watched the process. “It looks like it’s driving back the luminescent bacteria. How the hell does that work?”

  “I don’t know,” said Kat. “It’s like a guardian at the gate. That must be why the organism never spread to the surface, except maybe when humans got involved.” Kat paused and pondered this phenomenon. The prickling in her body heightened her alertness, enhancing her ability to problem solve. This might be the solution they were hoping for.

  “I think we should try the other exit.”

  Mark’s brow furrowed. “You said it was impassible, covered in the deadly nanobacteria.”

  “Yet it cowers at the cave raft bug.”

  A new light dawned in Mark’s eyes. “You think if we coat ourselves with this substance, then we’ll be safe?”

  “It’s possible.” She grinned. “It’s even highly likely.”

  Pete, who was shaking his tingling hands, looked up at her and smirked. He didn’t go as far as to say “I told you so,” but the inference was plain.

  Kat wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She turned back to Mark. “It might even be an easier route, since the ancient Maya apparently used it. They certainly didn’t have climbing equipment and rebreathers. If we go quickly we might be able to beat Jorge to the surface.”

  “Now that’s a mark worth hitting. I wasn’t comfortable sending Megan alone to deal with a terrorist.”

  “And do you think you’ll be able to deal with him any better?” asked Pete, one eyebrow tilted. “It’s not like you have any Special Ops training—or am I missing something?”

  “No,” said Mark. “No training, but you are missing something. I spent the last week with him, listening to his philosophy, learning from his pain. If anyone knows how to deal with Jorge, it’s me.”

  “So you’re going to talk down his bullets?”

  “Maybe,” said Mark. His face hardened. “Or I’ll kill him.”

  Kat felt icicles lance her skin more deeply than any organism could reach.

  Megan kicked the last few meters through the sump and surfaced very carefully. She scanned left and right, peering above the shelf of rock, but there was no sign of Jorge. One last tug on the rope pulled her level with the embankment. She swept the small alcove with another visual pass, then ejected herself from the water. A deep soul-cleansing sigh whispered through the cavern—her own heartfelt relief.

  At least he hadn’t set up an ambush. He probably didn’t consider her a threat. She suspected he doubted her ability to fumble her way out of this labyrinth of a cave at all. If that was the case, he’d seriously underestimated his opponent.

  Megan stripped off her drysuit, sealed it in the waterproof bag, and stuffed it into her pack. She refilled her water bottle, chowed down on another energy bar, then hefted the heavy load onto her back and began the climb to the surface.

  The first few ropes she ascended with ease, one mere ten-meter pitch after another. The next was a thirty-meter challenge, but after the third sump it was no more strenuous than a Sunday stroll up the Eiffel Tower. But as she scrunched into the next tunnel, she could hear the distant thunder of the waterfall. Now that might be tricky—opposing the flow and climbing upward through a barrage of water. Kat had seemed quite confident they’d be able to reverse the rappel, and Megan had trusted her judgment. But that was before the third sump.

  Despite her misgivings, Megan wasn’t about to give up. Jorge was just ahead, no doubt chuckling to himself that the woman—the soft American—would never catch him, and would definitely never make it out of this cave alive. She hitched her pack. We’ll see who’s chuckling at the end of the day.

  Another crawlway took her to within two meters of the waterfall. Already the spray was lashing her face. She found the rope still snugly knotted to a spike in the rock, ready for the team’s ascent. The wall of water clouded her view of the top, but something caught her eye in the middle—amber light painting the rocks above her. He was there, just the distance of the drop, probably noting her light as easily as she had spotted his. She reached up and switched off the headlamp.

  It was too late. The light above bobbed in the mist, then swung down and focused sharply on the unbroken karst where she stood. She backed farther into the dark alcove, then thought she heard a sound ripple over the noise of the waterfall. Laughter.

  “Do you really think you can beat me, si
lly woman?” His voice boomed through the chamber, challenging the cymbal clash of water meeting stone. “I have a gun and I have the high ground.”

  Megan cowered backward even more, eliminating any feasible shot. But that wasn’t what Jorge had in mind, she realized as she looked up. The slender lifeline, exactly the same kind of nylon rope that had betrayed them once, was their only path to the surface. As Megan watched, the rope whipsawed as if something was riding it mercilessly. Megan bit her lip. Suddenly the rope snapped off, flailed in the falls, and sank below the surface.

  Drowned, along with her hope.

  Chapter Fifty

  Kat gripped Mark’s hand and let him haul her out of the water. The green carpet had been swept away again, leaving only the polished white of natural limestone and the speckled remains of guardian ectoplasm. The killer bug was in full retreat. Pete dragged himself from the pool and stood, examining his skin for any remnant organisms. He nodded, satisfied, looked up, and caught her gaze.

  “Brilliant deduction, Kat. And Mark, I suppose I’m in your debt.”

  Mark waved his gratitude aside. He pulled Kat protectively into his arms. “I think you should rest before we continue. I may have done surgery without breaking skin, but you still have to heal inside. And the bullet . . .”

  Kat smiled and trailed her fingers over his jaw. “I’m fine, Mark. The nanobacteria is healing the wound faster than traditional antibiotics. I don’t even feel the bullet. Besides, we can’t give Jorge too much of a head start. He’s already at least a day ahead of us.”