by Jeff Gunhus
The small space felt suffocating. Over and over, Jack forced back waves of panic. But seeing Lonetree slide through so easily helped him psychologically. He started to feel more frustration than fear. He wasn’t used to having to be wet nursed through a physical challenge.
The area around him was illuminated by both his own light and Lonetree’s who now crouched at the end of the section of the tunnel and coached him on how to get out of the tough spot.
“Jack, rest for a second and just listen.”
Jack stopped straining and did as he was told, lying flat on the cool rock, the side wall of the passage inches from his face.
“You can’t fight a rock. You’re not going to win. This stuff is all technique. Here’s what’s happening. Notice how the passage is so much lower on the left than the right? There’s half the vertical height on that side than the high side. See what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I see that.”
“O.K. When you’re moving forward, your body is sliding downhill and lodging into that wedge down there. Slide back a little. Then push off with your left hand and foot and keep on the high side.”
Jack dug his toes into the rock and pulled himself backward. He jammed his hand and foot into the left wall and shifted his body to the high side. Keeping his body weight on the left, he edged his body forward, crab walking through the passage. He was amazed at how much easier it was. Less than a minute later he reached the end and climbed out of the tight tunnel into an open gallery.
The gallery was long and narrow, just wide enough to walk through. On either side, the walls soared up into the darkness. Jack craned his head backward to shine his light upward. The smooth rock walls towered above them, the beam too weak to penetrate up to the ceiling. The stone was a pale white that seemed to absorb the light from the intruders and give off its own soft glow. Wide streaks of dirty brown and green glistened when the light hit them. Jack reached out and felt the wall. It was slimy with algae growth and ground water oozing through the rock.
“How far up does that go?”
Lonetree threw Jack a bottle of water from his pack and glanced up. “Hundred feet or so. The ceiling is interesting.”
“How so?”
“It’s alive. Crawling with bats. Thousands of them.” Lonetree opened some water for himself. “The walls look like that from the guano.”
Jack lifted a foot off the ground and felt the sticky floor suck his boot down. “Nice.”
“Can’t hurt you. Makes a hell of a fertilizer.”
“How could you have found this place?” Jack asked in between gulps of the warm water. “Did you grow up around here or something?”
“No. But I grew up in caves like it. My father taught me and my brother.”
“Oh yeah?” Jack said as he tossed the water back to Lonetree, a little surprised at Lonetree’s sudden chattiness. “He was into caving?”
“Archeology. Growing up he dragged us around the country to different caves. Always trying to prove his grand theory.”
“What was his theory?”
Lonetree took a deep breath as if wishing the conversation had gone another direction. “He was convinced that there was a whole undiscovered record of early North American civilizations buried in the caves throughout the U.S.”
“How did he come up with that?”
“Early cultures on every other continent went into caves for rituals, for burials, to record their lives with paintings. There are more being discovered all the time. Sometimes miles deep into cave systems. But the record left by early Native Americans seemed minimal compared to what had already been discovered around the world in other civilizations.”
“Makes sense. So did he find what he was looking for?” Jack asked.
“He made some important finds. Nothing flashy, you know. Nothing that ended up in National Geographic or anything. But they were enough to keep getting grant money and get him tenure at the University of Oklahoma. For years, he kept looking, sure his theory was correct. Then, finally, he made the find of a lifetime.”
“This cave.”
Lonetree nodded. “This is it. He came in the same way we’re going right now. So did my brother. And what they found changed everything they believed.”
Jack looked around the gallery, again arching his neck to shine his light upward. “So, what did he find?” But when he lowered his head Lonetree was already walking down the gallery and pulling the backpack over his shoulders. Jack hustled to catch up with him and then fell into line behind him. He was about to ask his question again when he noticed the floor of the gallery.
They were following a well worn path. Jack at first thought there had to be another explanation for the feature so far underground, but the more he studied it, the more it seemed to him to be a trail worn into the solid stone by years of heavy use. Based on the little Lonetree had just told him, he guessed that he was walking on the path carved by ancient Native Americans. But why here, so far underground? Jack had no answers, something he was starting to get used to. But with the appearance of the path, he felt as if he was finally close to getting some.
FORTY-EIGHT
The elevator doors on the third floor of Midland General Hospital slid open. Sarah Tremont stood in the center of the elevator, her pink ball clutched with both hands. Even when the doors were open she hesitated to run out, though she wanted nothing more than to be out of the spooky elevator. All she could think about was how fast the doors had closed when she was locked in, how they had smashed together. What if that happened again? What if the doors slammed shut right when she was getting out and squished her in half?
She leaned forward to get a better look at where the elevator had taken her, too scared to move her feet. There was a nurse’s station, just like there was on every floor. But, as far as she could see, there was no one there.
“Hello,” she called out. “Anyone there?”
Silence.
Focused on looking for help outside the elevator, Sarah didn’t notice at first when the lights above her started to dim.
Then they flickered, as if surges of electricity were throbbing through the wires. A low hum filled the small compartment.
Sarah looked around nervously, but she couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It seemed to come from everywhere.
The floor beneath her started to tremble.
Suddenly, the floor dropped from under her feet, throwing her off balance. The floor rose back up with a jerk. The elevator bucked wildly, as if it were a wild horse trying to shake a rider. The lights flashed off and on. Gears squealed, metal on metal. A howl like angry wind through a tunnel filled the compartment. The noise rose until it was so loud that Sarah covered her ears.
Sarah screamed and ran to get out of the elevator, squeezing her eyes shut as she approached the door. She lost her balance as the bucking elevator floor dropped out from beneath her. She fell forward onto the floor outside the elevator, landing hard on her knees, scraping them both. Just as she cleared the door, the elevator slammed shut with a crash and the noise was gone.
Sarah picked herself up off the floor. She whimpered from fear, too scared to cry. Blood trickled from her knees and small droplets splattered on the floor, bright red against the green linoleum. Once she steadied herself, she ran to the nurse’s station hoping that someone would be there to help her. The desk was empty.
She called out in the loudest voice she could manage, “Hello. Is anyone here?” No answer.
Then she saw the phone.
She ran behind the desk and picked up the receiver, relief beating back her fear. Help was only a phone call away.
She held the phone to her ear and heard the dial tone. She typed ‘0’ for the operator, but nothing happened. The dial tone blared dully in her ear. She hung up and then tried punching some of the other numbers. Each time she pressed a button she heard the beep on the line, but the dial tone hummed over it. Frustrated, she put the phone back on the hook and slouched in the chair.
The phone rang. The bright peal of sound seemed to shatter the air around her. She jumped in the chair with a high pitched squeal. She stared at the phone, waiting for it to ring again. Nothing. The same eerie silence returned.
Tentatively, as if it were a hot iron she might burn herself on, she reached out for the phone. She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. There was no dial tone.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Hello,” the voice said.
Sarah swallowed hard. “This is Sarah Tremont,” she said, managing to stop crying and use the polite tone she always used with adults she didn’t know. “I’m looking for my mom.”
“Where are you, darlin’?”
“I don’t know.” She started to cry.
“Shhh now, sugar. Don’t you cry. Look around you, what do you see?”
Sarah did as she was told. “I’m at a nurse’s station on the top floor.”
“Good. That’s good,” the voice flowed in soft tones. “Look at the doors, now. What numbers do you see?”
She leaned to the right to see around the desk. “I see room number 311.”
The voice chuckled. “Well, sugar. You’re just down the hall from your mommy. Only a few doors down.”
“Really? Where’s she at?” She felt like she might cry again, from relief this time. She didn’t care if she got in trouble. All she could think about was getting a big hug from her mom.
“You know the room you saw?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Go on over there and turn to the right. You know your left and right don’t you, sugar?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’s real good. Go to the right and keep watching the numbers on the doors. They should be getting bigger.”
“What number is my mom in?”
“Room 320, sugar,” Nate Huckley whispered through the phone. “Hurry now. We’re waitin’ for you.”
FORTY-NINE
Jack heard the rushing water even before he cleared the tight passage leading into the next gallery. The cave was wider than some of the others they had passed through, a good ten yards across. Jack noticed the water with interest, but the enormous missing section of the cave floor was what really caught his attention.
“Step to the side there,” Lonetree instructed. “The middle of the floor could collapse with too much weight.”
Jack nodded and crept along the wall to where the underground river came out of the rock. The water was moving deceptively fast. Shining his lamp on the surface it looked like a giant black snake sliding lazily past him, but reaching down and sticking a finger in the river let him know there was nothing lazy about the flow. Water splashed at him and his hands was knocked away by the force of the current.
“Hey, the water’s warm,” Jack called out.
“A natural hot spring feeds into it. Keeps it a reasonable temperature. You can smell the sulfur.”
The river was only about twenty feet wide, but it transected the passage they were in. Jack looked over to Lonetree.
“It’s moving too fast to swim, how do we get around this? Swing over like Indiana Jones?”
“You got it.”
“I was kidding.”
Lonetree angled his light up to the rock ceiling over the center of the river. There was a metal hook embedded into to the face and a black nylon rope extended to the wall next to Lonetree.
“Isn’t that rust on that hook up there?”
“Yeah, don’t worry though. It held me so it’ll probably hold you too.”
“Probably?”
“Well, you never know about the longevity of these things. It might just give way one day. Just fall out.”
“Great,” Jack said. He shone his light down the length of the river until it disappeared into the opposite wall. “So if I fall in, where does this thing take me?”
“Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“On your religious beliefs. Because if you fall in, you’re dead.” He held out the rope. “You want to go first?”
“No, why don’t you go ahead.”
Lonetree nodded. He removed his backpack and secured all the latches. Satisfied everything was intact, he tossed it across the river, easily clearing it by several feet. “There’s a smaller rope attached to the main rope. It’s there so we could still retrieve it if one of us accidentally let go of the rope after we cross,.” Jack understood that when Lonetree said ‘one of us’ he really meant him. “Just make sure it’s not tangled on anything before you swing across.”
“Check.”
No sooner was the word out of Jack’s mouth than Lonetree was airborne. He kicked his legs out at the lowest part of the arc and arched his back just in time for a perfect landing on the other side. Jack clapped softly for the acrobatics.
“Here, grab the rope,” Lonetree said.
Jack reached out as Lonetree sent the rope back over the river. He grabbed on to it with both hands. “Got it.”
“All right. Now, try to swing at an angle. The floor is weakest in the middle.”
Jack nodded. He tugged on the rope to test his grip, shining his headlamp at the metal ring in the rock roof. He rocked back on his heels and, not wanting to give himself time to change his mind, leapt forward over the water.
The rope had more give than he thought and he had to lift his feet up to keep from dragging them through the river. He tried to swing his momentum forward, aiming toward Lonetree’s light on the far side, but he could tell he was going to come up short. An image flashed in his mind of being swept away in the black waters beneath him. Down through the earth to God knew where. With a cry, he arched his back and stretched his feet out to the rock floor on the other side.
His feet hit solid rock but he was too horizontal. Momentum gone, he started to fall backward.
Lonetree grabbed his waist and pulled him forward. Jack let go of the rope and fell safely to the floor of the cave.
“Well, that was graceful,” Lonetree said. He recovered the swing by pulling in the guide rope. He attached it to a hook in the wall.
Jack dragged himself to his feet, realizing that Lonetree had just saved his life. “Thanks, I owe you.”
“No problem. Just know that I collect on my debts. Come on. This way.”
The passage made a ninety-degree turn and then continued on a downward slope. The going was easy and they were both able to walk upright down the trail. Jack checked his watch. Time seemed non-existent underground. He couldn’t believe they had already been in the cave for almost an hour.
Lonetree crouched by a fissure at the base of the rock face at the far end of the gallery. When Jack looked down into the narrow slit a nervous laugh escaped from his throat. The hole Lonetree pointed to was impossibly small. There was no way they would be able to fit through it.
“You can’t be serious.” Jack said
“It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll guide you through it. What we came for is on the other side of this wall.”
That made Jack stand up straighter. The downward climb had become an endless series of galleries separated by tight spots, or squeeze holes as he’d come to think of them. Each one presented its own challenge and its own sense of accomplishment after he pulled himself through it. Now there was only one more squeeze hole between him and the mystery that had brought him this far.
Still, the spot Lonetree hovered over was no more than a crack on the rock, a limestone rabbit hole. Worse, the hole went straight into the floor of the cave and then turned like an elbow joint. How could they crawl through that angle?
As if reading his mind Lonetree began his instructions. He jumped down and stood in the hole. Lowering himself carefully, he threaded his feet and legs into the crevice. “
You have to go feet first to get through this bend here. Sit down in this hole and push your feet into the passage as you slide down, just like this.”
“Why feet first?”
Lonetree shrugged. “To get through this first curve head first you’d have to start upside down, doing a handstand. Besides, it’s possible to get stuck on this one. This way you’ll have more leverage to pull yourself out.”
Jack groaned, wishing his caving partner hadn’t felt the need to be so truthful.
“Now once in, you’ll need to rotate on your right hip and curl your legs. It’s an ‘S’ curve so you need to adjust back to the left side when you hit the other curve. Got it?”
“No. But let’s do it anyway.”
Lonetree curled his hand into a fist and bounced it a couple of times off the top of Jack’s boot, like an athlete psyching up his teammate when they needed a big play. Jack appreciated the gesture. He hated to admit it but he was starting to like the big man. Then, with a wide grin, Lonetree clutched the rock face around the opening and pulled his body into the wall.
FIFTY
Lauren couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. The trembling started with the call from the emergency room nurse. Usually an unflappable woman who was calm under the most extreme situations, Nurse Haddie’s panicked voice on the phone had been intense enough to make the bile rise on the back of Lauren’s throat. The nurse’s words still crashed around in Lauren’s head as she ran down the stairs to the first floor of the hospital. Each word was like a nail being pounded into her brain.
I can’t find Sarah, Dr. Tremont. She’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.
The doctor in her rifled through a hundred rational explanations for her daughter’s disappearance. A game of hide and seek. A trip to the bathroom. A fight with her sister.
