That was another thing about darkness. It killed your sense of direction. You no longer had visual markers. Well, not everybody was like that. Some people had a natural ability to sense the magnetic pole. Like a compass.
Max stood. He tried to access his inner compass. But he realized he didn’t have one. Or it was temporarily out of order. But he knew it would be a good idea to move away from the tools. So he shuffled along until his toe jammed against the base of the stone tiers.
He shivered.
Stop that.
He was getting tired of telling himself not to do things. Like not to shiver. The cold made people shiver, so he just had to walk and deal with it.
Then the shivering stopped by itself, which was interesting. The air had changed. It had been a little warm and then a little colder, and then warm again. A change in temperature caused the skin to shiver. And a change in temperature only happened when an outside force caused it to.
Like a breeze.
Max stood motionless. Where had the breeze come from? A breeze meant a connection to the outside, which would be through his tunnel.
There. About two o’clock. That’s how you said forty-five or so degrees to your right. Three o’clock was directly to the right, nine to the left, six behind you. Like the numbers on an analog clock.
Old clocks were useful things.
He stepped toward the tiny breeze at two o’clock and climbed onto the tier. There he was able to climb onto another and another, until he was on the highest level. He felt forward, touching his fingers repeatedly against the rock from right to left.
Wall. Wall. Wall. Wall. Wall. Wall. No wall.
Bingo.
He felt upward, leftward, downward, around the opening’s circumference. It seemed smaller than he remembered it, but that was OK. It was his way out of this chamber. It would be only a matter of a minutes before he was back in the cave. Everyone would be happy except maybe Bitsy, but she would recover from her claustrophobia soon enough.
He flattened himself out and slithered forward. His backpack scraped against the top of the tunnel. That was a little weird, because it hadn’t done that on the way in, but his pack was fuller now, that would explain it.
Breathe . . . breathe . . .
The air was getting cooler, and that was a good sign. But the passageway was barely big enough, as if it had shrunk while he was in there. And it was changing direction. Veering sharply to the left. And upward.
Max stiffened. This was not familiar at all. It was a different passageway. Had to be. He hadn’t seen it when he was in the chamber. So now what?
Turn back and find the right one, or keep going?
If he turned back, he could retrace his path. But going back meant more time in tunnels. He could think of a million things he’d rather be doing that that. Like eating broken glass. Keeping going meant heading into the unknown. But air was flowing from the other end. That meant there was some connection to the outer world. And less tunnel.
He exhaled and inched forward again. The path continued on an upward slope, then crested. The breeze was stronger now too. And he could see faint outlines of black and gray on the walls—which could only be caused by light.
He clawed forward, moving faster. “I’m here!” he shouted. “Where my voice is!”
His voice echoed. It was the first echo he’d heard since stepping into this mess. Echoes only happened when sound had enough space to bounce around. Like in valleys and concert halls and overpasses . . . and caverns.
The light was coming from an area to his left. But it was weak. It didn’t seem that it could be made by powerful lamps. Which meant he could be in another part of the cave. “Answer me!”
He lunged forward, toward the suggestion of light. Toward the gradations of black going to gray.
And his foot slipped.
His body was sliding now, down some kind of chute, picking up speed. Soon his arms and legs were scraping against rock, doubling his pain. He let out another scream as light began suffusing up from below.
Now he could see metal handholds in the rock above him. People had been here. People had figured out how to negotiate the slope. All he needed to do was grab on.
He reached up with his fingers, grasping, but they closed on nothing. He was going too fast. The bottom was quickly becoming visible.
It was a hole. A hole that dropped farther than he could see. He closed his eyes and screamed as he picked up speed.
As the slide released him into the void, he wrapped his arms around his head. Hitting water elbow-first was not pleasant. But it was better than face-first, and another few inches on either side would have impaled him on a stalagmite.
He straightened out in the water, his foot striking bottom. The surface was hard and jagged and caused one ankle to buckle. With his other foot, he pushed up, thrusting downward with his arms.
He broke through with a gasp. He was hoping to see waving curtains of limestone rock and spectacular columns, but all he could see was a dull expanse of water, and stalactites from the ceiling that were way too close to his head.
What the . . . ?
This was not the Cave of Vlihada he’d left. The water was deeper, the cavern more cramped and unlit by lamps. It was vast, extending far in all directions. But there was no way a boat could fit here.
He swam toward the light, which seemed to be coming from a spot up on the ceiling to his right. The dull splish-splash of his arms into the water echoed through the small cavern.
Until Max realized some of the splashes weren’t echoes. They couldn’t be. They had a different rhythm. He stopped swimming and squinted into the distance.
Not too far ahead, clumps of dirt and rock were falling from the roof. From the source of the light, a shovel’s blade was thrusting downward.
“Helllllp!” Max screamed.
“Stop that confounded shovel, Kosta! I think I hear him!”
Nigel’s voice. The sound startled him.
Max picked up the pace. His own labored breaths echoed against the rock.
“Max, old boy, is that you?”
“YES!” Max replied.
“It’s Nigel! Can you see me? Can you see my arm?”
In the light, Max saw what looked like a strange stalactite with wriggling fingers. He lifted his head and cried out, “I’m coming!”
Nigel’s arm disappeared back into the hole, and a rope fell through, splashing into the water. Max closed the gap fast. Grabbing the end of the rope, he tied it tight around his chest, just below his shoulders. “Got it!”
Now Max was being lifted out of the water, up through a jagged column of white light that blinded him. He broke through the gap, his eyes tightly closed against brilliant sunlight. Two sets of strong arms took him by the shoulders and yanked him up into the outer world.
“Is he OK?” came Alex’s voice.
“We’ll soon find out,” said Nigel.
Max could feel the rope being untied from around his chest. As he flopped back onto a warm patch of grass, he groaned. “I’m good. Please don’t hug me.”
“Oh, my heart,” Bitsy said. “Oh, I think I need to sit.”
Max blinked, adjusting to the brightness. Nigel and Alex were hunched over him, looking like they’d just seen a hippo spirit. “Where—what—how did you find me?” Max spluttered.
“Our guides figured it out,” Nigel explained. “Kosta K. noticed the sign by the hole had been moved. It marked a passage that leads to an undeveloped section of the cave. Neither wanted to follow you. Apparently, the Greeks take their historical sites quite seriously, and employees are punished for transgressions. There was a bit of a row over which way you would emerge. Kosta D. stayed by the opening in case you went back the way you came. Kosta K. brought the rest of us back through the front entrance and to this tiny opening, where he did a little work to expand it.”
“Thank you,” Max said to Kosta K.
“Achhh.” The boatman turned away in disgust, his face red and taut w
ith disapproval.
Just beyond the boatman, a small group of tourists were taking selfies of the scene. As Kosta K. shooed them away, Alex leaned close. “Are you really OK?”
Max smiled and nodded.
“Did you do it?” Bitsy said. “Did you find the wet river horse, whatever that is?”
From behind Max came a deep cracking noise. He jumped away as the hole he’d come through opened wider.
“Oh dear, looks like some kind of sink hole,” Nigel said. “Max can give us the details when we’re back at the hotel. We’d best get out of here before anyone starts asking questions we don’t want to have to answer.”
19
“SO . . . you tricked me. You shouted claustrophobia, fully knowing what it would do to me.” Bitsy paced the floor of Room 103 at the Alexander the Great Inn, which didn’t exactly live up to its name. The screen door didn’t close all the way, the hot water was cold, the overhead light buzzed like a flock of bees, and the air conditioner from the diner next door rattled outside the window. Max was sprawled out on a bed, Alex was sitting by his knees with the backpack, and Nigel was doing ankle stretches on the wall.
“I’m sorry, Bits,” Alex said. “But we needed a distraction—”
“No, no . . . it was brilliant!” Bitsy exclaimed.
Max sat up. “It was?”
“Yes,” Bitsy replied. “Finally, something good came of my stupid fears. Do show us the bones, Max.”
Max pulled the vials out of his pack. The bones were floating in water, and everything was suffused in red that seemed deeper than Max remembered.
“This is fascinating,” Nigel said, holding one of the vials up to the light. “We are off to a flying start. Perhaps this search will be easier than we thought.”
“We figured out clue number one,” Alex said, “and we’re going to figure out the others.”
“I want to text Evelyn,” Max said. “But I won’t. I can’t get her hopes up. I’ll wait till we have all five!”
“I suggest we celebrate with some Greek food,” Nigel said. “I shall run next door and bring back an assortment. Any special requests?”
“Do they have Moose Tracks ice cream in Greece?” Max asked.
“Moussaka tracks, maybe,” Nigel said.
“I just lost my appetite,” Bitsy groaned.
As Nigel left, a silence settled over the room. Alex’s eyes were drooping, and Bitsy flopped down onto the floor. Max yawned and fluffed a pillow under his head.
The last thing he saw before falling asleep was Nigel, out the window. He was racing across the parking lot, completely missing the restaurant’s entrance and heading toward the other businesses.
But Nigel was a grown man. He would figure it out.
Several hours later Max awoke with a loud gasp, into pitch darkness.
It took him a moment to remember he was not in the caves. He flicked on a lamp beside his bed. Bitsy and Alex must have gone back to their room. He spotted a handwritten sign on his dresser. He got up to read it.
Your dinner is in the fridge.
No moussaka tracks ice cream,
but that’s OK, b/c no freezer! ☺ —A
Grrroglll, grrrogllled Max’s stomach.
He was starving, so he padded over to the fridge, which was under an old TV. As he pulled out a big white paper bag, the smell of cold souvlaki made his mouth water.
Setting the bag down on his night table, he noticed his backpack was open. The collection canister was still inside, the top off. It was filled with empty vials.
Max remembered taking out one of the vials with the hippo bones. But he’d had three. And there was nothing inside the canister.
He looked under the bed. In the bathroom.
Grabbing his key, he ran out of Room 103, and pounded on the door of 102. “Alex, do you have them?”
The door flew open. With a solid thunk, it caught itself on a short chain. Through the crack of an opening, a man with beard stubble and a white T-shirt barked something in Greek.
“Over here, Max!” whispered Alex’s voice. From Room 104.
“Sorry, bad sense of direction,” Max said to the guy. “Second time today.”
He raced to Alex’s room, and she let him in. A groggy Bitsy was just waking up from the second bed. “Is it morning yet?”
“Almost,” Alex replied, then turned to Max. “Do I have what?”
“The three vials with the hippo bones!” Max said. “They’re not in my room.”
Alex shook her head. “Why would I take that?”
Bitsy was out of bed now, drawing a robe around herself and shoving her feet into slippers. “Nigel delivered the food to you, Max,” she said. “You were fast asleep. Maybe he took them for safekeeping.”
“He should have told me!” Max said.
Alex sighed. “Come on, let’s wake him up and ask him. He’s in 115.”
Alex threw on a robe too, and they all headed to a room at the end of the row. Max reached 115 first and rapped on the door.
“Nigel?” Alex said quietly.
Max knocked again, calling out the name louder.
And again.
To their left, some of the lights were turning on. A voice shouted something in another language. Now the motel desk clerk appeared at the end of the row of rooms, shushing them.
“Our uncle is not answering,” Alex said.
The clerk nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. “Old man, yes? Maybe something happen.”
The clerk walked to the room and knocked on the door sharply, then pulled a key from a large collection on his belt. As he used it to open the door, he flicked on a light.
The room was empty. The bed was made. No one was inside.
“What the—?” Max said.
“Maybe he took a walk?” Bitsy said.
“There’s no place to walk!” Alex snapped. “And all his stuff is gone.”
Max, Alex, and Bitsy scoured the room. But there wasn’t much room to scour. Nigel wasn’t there.
Max ripped back the curtains and glanced out to the parking lot.
The car was gone too.
20
DING-DING-DING-DI-DI-DI-DI-DING!
Max couldn’t stop banging his hand on the silver bell on the front desk, while Alex was checking out. Outside, the sun was peeking over the horizon.
“Will you stop that?” Alex shouted. “It’s too early for noise.”
“It soothes me,” Max said.
“It irritates everyone else,” Alex replied.
“You know what irritates me?” Max said, forcing himself to pull his arm back from the bell. “I said we shouldn’t trust him. I knew it the moment we met him in the funeral home.”
“He fooled us, Max,” Alex said, as she waited for the clerk to process her credit card. “It’s understandable. He’s our uncle.”
“Fifth cousin twice removed,” Max reminded her.
“Once you get past third cousin, it’s barely even family,” Bitsy said. “Look at the royals.”
“What?” Alex and Max said at the same time.
“Never mind,” Bitsy said.
“OK, let’s assume he’s a rat, and he’s trying to get these ingredients before we do,” Alex said. “But we don’t know a lot of things—like why? Is he working with someone or flying solo? In what order is he going to be attacking this list? We don’t know where he’s getting his money. But we’re the only one with the Isis hippuris, so I’m assuming we’ll run into him again, eventually.”
She pulled out her phone, tapped on her documents app, and pulled up the list of locations.
Max and Bitsy peered over her shoulder. “‘Mexico . . . Kathmandu . . .’” she read aloud.
“Wait . . . what about this one?” Max said. “‘Preserved with the tincture of coil dust from the Kozhim River’? Nigel said it’s in Russia. That’s the closest location to Greece. That would be the most efficient search method.”
“That’s what I was thinking too.” Alex pocketed her
phone and turned to the clerk. He was holding tight to the credit card, looking at the computer monitor with a furrowed brow. “I am sorry, miss . . .” he said. “It is not working.”
“No prob,” Alex said. “I’ll pay in cash.”
“I’m sorry.” He pulled the card farther away. “I cannot.”
“Wait . . .” Alex said. “You can’t take cash? Money. Dollars. Euros. Whatever. Everybody takes cash.”
“I cannot,” he repeated, turning the monitor toward her. “Is message. Here.”
“Shoot, I can’t read Greek,” Alex said. “Can you—?”
The wail of a siren interrupted her. Max and Bitsy ran to the front window. From a couple of blocks away, a police car was heading in their direction.
“The police?” Alex said. “Is that what the message says?”
The clerk nodded.
“We took ancient artifacts,” Max said.
“Not to mention disturbing an undeveloped cave and creating a new hole in the earth,” Bitsy said.
“But how would they know where we are?” Alex said.
Max was getting a headache. He began pacing. “Nigel. He’s the only person who knows us.”
“The creep!” Bitsy said.
Alex’s eyes widened. “We are toast.”
“I hate him!” Max shouted. “He doesn’t have a friend who’s dying! He wants to kill Evelyn!”
“Max . . .” Alex said.
Slowly, the clerk slipped out from behind his desk toward the front door.
Max ran after him, snatching the credit card from his hands. The guy looked afraid. Max didn’t like making people feel that way. He took three deep breaths. “Sorry. Sorry. But it’s hers. And we need to get away. Now! That guy who was in Room 115? He stole something from us. He’s framing us. Is there another way out? Out? Exo?”
The clerk looked nervously back to the window. That was all the hint Max needed.
“Follow me!” Max called out.
Just beyond a set of restrooms was a glass door. They barreled through, emerging into the back lot of a small strip mall.
“Nice work, Max,” Bitsy said.
Max broke into a jog. “I can’t figure out his plan. What’s he going to do with one ingredient? It makes no sense. Why not wait and use us to help him get the rest?”
80 Days or Die Page 10
