While those are bad, it’s nothing that’s going to kill me right this minute.
However, if it gets much colder in here, I’ll end up freezing to death. I didn’t survive falling off a cliff just to die from the cold. Besides, the flashlights won’t last very long, we’ll need something for light soon.
I shove myself to my feet and look for anything to start a fire.
Conn looks up and I say, “Fire wood,” in response to his questioning look.
He nods again and pushes himself to his feet without speaking.
That’s Conn’s best quality. He doesn’t have to talk just to hear his own voice. Unlike my brother.
Which reminds me again how glad I am Tristan didn’t come. There’s no way he’d have been able to help me. I’d probably still be bleeding on that ledge. And he’d have probably fallen off and broken his neck trying to help me.
We spend the next few minutes gathering every stray thing we think will burn, tossing them, into a pile. Just as I get to the farthest part of the cave, I find a pile of sticks.
I stare at them for a minute. They’re set up just like the pile we set up in the center of the cave, but it’s made from sticks instead of scraps. That’s when I notice the silver object lying a few inches away. When I pick it up, I see it’s a compass. And I recognize it. But I haven’t seen it in months.
Not since its owner disappeared while hunting on the island.
Sam. My father’s old hunting partner -- and my mentor after my dad’s death. Like me, he felt there was a lot of game up this way. He’d come to the island by himself just after winter passed. We never saw him again. We sent a rescue party, but no one found him. I always thought something must have happened -- which is why I didn’t want to come alone. And now I know.
This is definitely his. Only one person in the village and probably what’s left of the world had a compass like this. From the outside it looks like a normal pocket watch—made of gold and etched in black. But when you open it, instead of a watch face, you have a compass. The face is entirely black, but the numbers are a greenish color that glows in the dark.
On the backside of the lid is a picture of Sam’s wife. She died long before I met him.
Maybe there’s something here that will point me in his direction. If he’s still alive, we have to find him.
I start searching for more.
It doesn’t take me long. Next to the compass, but mostly buried, is a really old set of binoculars with a broken lens. They seem like they’ve been in the dirt longer than just a few months, maybe even as long as Sam’s been alive, though.
A few feet from that, I find a pocket watch. Sam used to carry one, but I don’t think this is it. It looks like it’s been here awhile, too. Not quite as long as the binoculars, but definitely longer than the compass. It’s stopped working, but when I wind it, the second hand spins easily.
Conn sidles up next to me and I show him the instruments in my hand. His whole face scrunches up when he sees the compass.
“Isn’t that Sam’s?”
I nod, folding my fingers over the compass. “He’s got to be here somewhere. We have to find him. Even if all we find is his,” I swallow, “his body, we need to find him and bring him home. I owe him that much at least.”
Conn nods and helps me search the rest of the cave. But we don’t find anything else. The cave is just too dark, and our flashlights only help so much. But we do find something that could explain why no one came back.
On the far side of the cave my flashlight shines into some sort of opening. I gesture for Conn to join me as I study it. It’s fairly decent sized, not large enough for a bear to fit in, but we could easily fit through.
Our flashlights light up the space and show us the opening is actually a tunnel. A fairly long one if the deep darkness that lays beyond my flashlight beam and the chill coming from it is any indication.
The walls of the tunnel look just like the walls of the cave. Golden yellow limestone, quite obviously cut out by water. Maybe even filled with water during the wet season, which, thankfully, is months from now.
That has got to be where the missing villagers went. Maybe even Conn’s dad’s friend. The scream could have easily been him falling off the ledge like I did.
A shiver zippers up my spine and I turn to Conn. “I’m positive that our missing villagers went through this tunnel. We need to go find them.”
Conn doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t think we should. You’re hurt. It would be better if we let people know this is here. That way if something happens, they’ll know where to look.”
“There’s no way we can just leave them here, if we can help.”
“Gavin, think realistically. We have no real proof they’ve gone down there. And even if they did, it’s been months. Is there really any chance they’re still alive?”
“Even if they are dead, we need to find them. To give their families a sense of closure if nothing else.” As soon as I say it, I know I’m thinking more of my father and how we don’t really know what happened to him. From Conn’s face, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.
Finally, he nods. “Let’s go check it out.”
After only a few hundred feet, the tunnel opens up enough to stand up in and walk side-by-side with Conn. We don’t talk, except to decide which route to take when there’s a fork in the tunnels.
We leave markings on the ground so we know which turns we take.
At several of the junctures we find more objects from whoever came before us. We race forward, more excited each time we find something new.
It isn’t long before we realize that we were so excited about finding the artifacts that we forgot to keep marking the paths we took. But we barely have time to worry about that – suddenly there are footprints everywhere. We can’t tell whether we’re coming or going and now we’re thoroughly lost.
My head and shoulder pound from the fall, and my body aches everywhere. It feels like I’m coming down with the flu. I really just want to lie down in my bed and sleep.
We wander for hours--at least I think it’s hours. I’ve lost all track of time. I have to wonder if we’re not wandering in circles. It’s so damn hard to tell which way is which; everything looks the same.
I find myself stumbling more and more with each step I take. Several times, I have to stop and lean against the wall as the entire world spins around me and darkness bleeds into the sides of my vision.
Finally, Conn stops. “We should rest awhile,” he says.
I don’t argue. I’m not sure I have the energy, even if I wanted to, to go on.
I use the wall to slowly lower myself to the ground. Even then, the entire room spins and I’m pretty sure I black out for a minute or two, because when I blink Conn goes from standing to kneeling next to me and I never saw him move.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He shines the flashlight over my arm. “I’m checking out your wounds. You look really sick.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he gives me a look and I sigh. “I feel like shit.”
He doesn’t say anything until he’s looked at all my cuts and scrapes.
“You probably have a concussion.”
I groan. “Wonderful.”
“We need to get out of here.”
“Noticed.”
“So…how do we do it?”
My head pounds and I fight the urge to close my eyes. “Do you think I would be wandering around here if I didn’t have to be?”
As soon as I say it, I regret it. Conn’s face hardens before he looks away.
“Um. I’m sorry,” I say. “That was uncalled for.” Especially since it was my bright idea to start wandering around the tunnels in the first place.
“Whatever, man.” He shrugs.
I don’t know what else to say, so I don’t say anything. My eyes fall closed again and I force them open.
Connor is now sitting across the tunnel from me, his legs stretched out, his arms crossed behind
his head. He appears to have been sitting there a while.
I blink again and then he’s tugging on my arm. “Come on. I don’t think you’re supposed to be sleeping with a concussion.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” I protest, but it’s only half-hearted.
He laughs and pulls me up to my feet. “Whatever you say, Sleeping Beauty.”
Grateful he doesn’t appear to be angry at me anymore, I lightly punch him on the arm. At least, that’s the intention, except instead of tapping his shoulder, I miss by several inches and pitch forward.
“Whoa!” He quickly catches me and keeps his arm under mine to steady me.
“We should keep walking. Find a way out of here.” My voice is barely a whisper because of how tired I am. “The sooner we get out of this cave, the better.”
Connor nods and starts forward, keeping his arm around my waist. I’m grateful he’s not mad at me anymore. There’s no way I’d be able to keep walking without his support.
I don’t know how long we spend walking, but it feels like days. I’m feeling sicker by the minute, and I’m sure we’re no closer to finding our way out than we were when we first got lost.
Damn wounds. Damn fall. Damn, effing island!
Half the time, it feels like my whole body is boiling, the rest of the time I’m freezing. My shoulder and head scream at me to just stop. To give up. But I can’t. I have to get home and take care of my family.
If I die, there’ll be no one to bring home food for them. Tristan’s still too young to bring back the big game and I haven’t spent enough time teaching him what he needs to know.
I make a promise to whoever’s listening that I’ll take the time as soon as I get back. And that I’ll do more to make Mom happier. I’ll even try to spend more time ‘working on my social life.’
Just as I think I can’t walk any further, we hit a dead end. I want to groan.
Connor shines his light at the dead end and I blink when I see that the dead end isn’t a dead end at all. It’s a door!
The question is, where does it lead?
Conn places his hand on the handle, and feeling of dread erupts in the pit of my stomach. But before I can stop him, Conn’s tugging on the door.
“Conn!” I yell as he slowly pulls the door open.
Loved this prequel? Then read on! Find out what’s behind the door in:
RENEGADE (Tor Teen)
Available now! Click here
Since the age of three, sixteen-year-old Evelyn Winters has been trained to be Daughter of the People in the underwater utopia known as Elysium. Selected from hundreds of children for her ideal genes, all her life she’s thought that everything was perfect; her world. Her people. The Law.
But when Gavin Hunter, a Surface Dweller, accidentally stumbles into their secluded little world, she’s forced to come to a startling realization: everything she knows is a lie. Her memories have been altered. Her mind and body aren’t under her own control. And the person she knows as Mother is a monster.
Together with Gavin she plans her escape, only to learn that her own mind is a ticking time bomb… and Mother has one last secret that will destroy them all.
And don’t miss book two of the Elysium Chronicles (Tor Teen)
Available Fall 2013
About the Author
J.A. Souders was born in the heartland with an overactive imagination and an over abundance of curiosity that was always getting her into trouble. She first began writing at the age of 13, when she moved to Florida and not only befriended the monsters under the bed, but created worlds for them to play together.
Because she never grew up, she decided she’d put her imaginary friends to work and started writing. She still lives in the land of sunshine and palm trees with her husband and their two children and is an active member of the RWA, CFRW, YARWA and SCBWI.
Visit J.A. Souders at her website www.jasouders.com or on twitter @jasouders.
A Dark Grave Page 2
