Mercy's Chase

by Jess Lourey

  She was afraid of the sea, too, but as the only true codebreaker here, she was the one who had to climb down. Bode threaded and tested the harness and ropes while Salem and Charlie huddled near each other, not talking, just drawing on the nearness of another human for comfort.

  Bode’s set-up was alarmingly quick.

  “Good to go! I’ve roped both anchors so we’ve got a backup if you need me to drop down, which you won’t. Legs go right in here.” He indicated holes in the harness and strapped it around her waist once she’d stepped through. She felt like she was watching him suit her up from a great distance, his tugs and cinches reaching her through a Novocain-like haze.

  “This bandolier holds your flashlight, your phone, an emergency medical kit, and this empty pocket is for whatever you put in it.” He held up a flashlight trailing a safety cord. “Do not pull this out of your bandolier until you’ve slipped on the strap. If you drop it by accident and it falls all the way down, we have to pull you back up and give you another one. That takes time it doesn’t sound like you have.”

  Salem nodded.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.”

  She attempted a smile, but her lips were frozen.

  He snapped a carabiner over her harness, tugged leather gloves onto her, and showed her how to hold the rope above and below the contact point to let herself descend in controlled bursts.

  When he trusted that she had the basics, he patted her arm. “The lip is the hardest part of the entire climb. It juts out before curving back in, which makes it hard to reach the face for purchase. Once you’re past that, this is going to be safe. I promise. You decide how fast and how slow you go, and when you yell, I pull you back up.”

  “Can I back up toward the ledge?” She thought it might be easier if she couldn’t see where she was going.

  “Yeah, for sure. Keep your eyes on me. I’ll guide you.” Bode planted a confident smile on his face. “That’s good. Little steps are the best. You’re about ten feet from the edge. I want you to start leaning back, give the rope a test. That’s it. See? It’ll hold you. I won’t let you go.”

  Charlie stood behind Bode, looking for all the world like he was trying to keep his breakfast down. Salem found herself flashing him an encouraging smile. That’s when she noticed the patch of yellow flowers to her left, not visible from the trail. She took it as a positive sign.

  “I’m ready to go over!”

  Bode’s grin lit up his face. “That’s the way! Take one leap back, feet straight out in front of you. Trust gravity and your rope.”

  Salem closed her eyes. Below, the sucking gloop gloop sound of the sea squeezing through the cave walls was oddly soothing. She pushed off from the solid earth, one hand instinctively rising to shield her face as she inevitably slammed right back into the rock lip.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead she dropped, just as Bode had promised.

  She hung there, twirling slowly.

  She opened one eye and then the other. She’d descended at least fifteen feet, smoothly. The light trickled down from above, and less so from the openings on the east and west, but the sea and shadows refracted it, giving the cool cave walls an underwater feel.

  “I did it!” she yelled, overcome by something like euphoria. “Woot!”

  “Yeah!” Bode shouted back. “Start swinging yourself side to side so you can see more of the walls. Remember to always look for something to grab on to.”

  Salem nodded. Her palms were sweaty and her heartbeat rapid, but she was discovering strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Part of her still felt vulnerable, like a giant worm dangling on a hook over the roiling sea, but a deeper, stronger part of her realized for the first time that she could do this. She began swaying to the left and the right, gaining momentum exactly as she’d done on those Linden Hills playground swings with Bel.

  Left and right, left and right.

  She guided her hand to the flashlight as she pumped, careful to slip the safety strap around her wrist before releasing the flashlight from its Velcroed perch. She clicked it on, it’s surgical brightness jarring inside the brackish cave.

  While the wall to the east traveled out to sea and the wall to the west cleaved deep into the earth, the cave itself was an isolated pocket. If an Underground cryptographer hid something here, she’d had to have done it in the cave’s 3,300-square-foot area. The swath of each wall to be inspected was the size of a large house’s floor plan.

  Searching for a code here amounted to reading a giant stone book written in an unfamiliar language. Salem was on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, any man- or woman-made structure or sign. She expected the code to be rudimentary, as Stonehenge and the Flower Rock had been, so basic as to easily blend in with the scratches and dips of these ancient walls.

  She must be meticulous.

  Her brain ran a grid pattern of the north wall, the one she was presently facing. She located markers to her left and to her right and swung toward them, playing the flashlight across the moist surface. The swinging motion required her to scan the area, and to wait until momentum brought her back if she saw anything out of the ordinary.

  Down there, you are your own force, your own counterweight, Bode had instructed her. It felt good to work in this protected space, to use the strength in her body coupled with the power of her mind. It left no room for her characteristic worry.

  She was also comforted by the thought of Bode and Charlie looking out for her above.

  Once she’d made a complete scan of the top portion of the north wall, she changed the direction of her momentum, pushing off the wall once she was close enough.

  She dropped five feet and repeated the lattice pattern at the new level.

  The rhythm soothed her, each pass requiring six or seven minutes, and then she’d switch direction, approach the wall, bend her knees, push off and drop another five feet. The smell of the sea was different nearer the shoreline. Salty, elemental. The rocks gave off an eternal chill, but the physical exertion kept her warm.

  A small rivulet cut its way down the rock on the next pass. She directed her weight to return her to the spot. The rock changed color at the water source, became froggy and warm-looking, but when she tapped the spot with her toe, there was no give. Still, she reached for a promontory near the waterfall, grabbed on, and held herself with one hand while shining her flashlight into the hole with the other. She was looking for anything out of the ordinary—a shelf, a recess, maybe a huge X.

  Nothing.

  But the murmur of the sea comforted her. She’d previously had an antagonistic relationship with water. A lake had stolen her father. The ocean hid threats. It could rear up and grow angry at the drop of a hat.

  This sea felt more maternal. Protective. Familiar almost.

  She began her pattern anew, starting at the far west point of the line that had brought her to the rivulet’s mouth in case she’d overlooked anything when she’d first caught sight of the anomaly.

  Flex legs, straighten them, push off, then left and right, left and right.

  She saw it instantly. She didn’t even need to make another drop.

  A flash of white.

  Guano? There must be bats down here.

  She swung past the spot, searching for a handhold.

  She located one four feet to the left of the bright blotch. Perched on a small ledge, her toes curled with exertion, fingers bent into a claw to keep her attached to the wall, she flashed her light at the aberration.

  There was definitely something abnormal there. An indent, she couldn’t tell how deep, and inside, the splash of brightness against the dark.

  “I think I found something!” she yelled up.

  There was no response. A fissure winked at her two feet closer to the indent. She stretched toward it.
It was deep enough to dig her hand into. She grunted with the strain but brought herself near enough to look inside the hole.

  The opening was the size of a carry-on bag.

  While her hand was shoved deep in the fissure, though, she couldn’t aim the flashlight into the recess. Her position was precarious. The sea was as far below her as the opening was above. Stress twisted her belly. There was no way to stabilize herself and peer inside the hole at the same time. She could swing past it, but that wouldn’t allow enough time to examine. A trickle of sweat escaped her hairline and stung her eye. The panic began to rise, but there wasn’t time or space for it. She took a deep breath and remembered Bode’s instruction.

  There’s always a place to grab onto. Trust the rock.

  She swiped her forehead with her forearm. Her attention drawn upward, she spotted a handhold directly above, just within reach. Grabbing it would take her farther away from the recess, but it would put her within reach of another handhold off to the right, and another after that. In five moves, she’d be staring directly into the hole, her feet lodged in a shelf below the recess.

  Her movements were constrained but certain. She needed to hug the wall and trust all her senses. The cool moss welcomed her touch, its softness leading her toward the sharp edges of the handhold. Inch by inch, she felt along the wall, plunging her fingers and toes into every opening she felt, testing her weight before releasing the previous support.

  The air changed when she finally reached the recess, sweat running down her back from the pressure of restrained exertion. The flashlight still hung from her right wrist.

  She swung it into her hand and snapped it on.

  She blinked. The recess’ ledge was two feet across, and it looked to be forever deep. When her eyes adjusted, she spotted the white against the back of the ledge that had first caught her eye. It was only a few feet in but too deep to reach from her current spot.

  She would have to crawl inside.

  “I’m checking out a hole dead center on the north wall!” she yelled, not expecting a response this time. Sound must travel differently from down here.

  She was inside the hole up to her waist when she noticed the change in smell. It was sharp and sour, the odor of fish rotting in the sun. Her heart slid sideways. She didn’t want to find anything dead.

  She sucked in a deep breath. She’d power through it.

  Pulling a knee onto the ledge, she pushed herself forward.

  And was rewarded with a face full of rotting seaweed.

  It didn’t slow her down. She brought the other leg up and in, brushing aside the seaweed with the flashlight. She shoved her body all the way to the rear of the mini-cave, almost on top of the flash of white that had called her back here.

  It was a pile of shells. She touched them to be sure, and they crumbled in her fingers.

  Disappointment wanted to join her in the small space, but she didn’t allow it. She’d only explored a quarter of the Gloup. There was work to do. She shimmied out backward, waiting until her feet were over the ledge and tucked inside her toeholds before she pushed herself off the wall.

  She expected to swing to the left because she’d pushed off with her right foot. So confident was she in the rope holding her that she hung in the air for a split second, defying gravity like a cartoon figure, before hurtling toward the jagged rocks below, the end of the rope following close behind.

  She didn’t even have time to scream.

  She smacked a sharp ledge at an awkward angle.

  Her world went black.

  38

  The Gloup

  Orkney Islands, Scotland

  She woke to wet puppy kisses lapping at her face.

  When she tried to push the dog away, she realized she couldn’t move. A lurch of panic ripped her completely back to consciousness.

  She lay on her stomach. It was the sea, not a dog, trying to wake her.

  The solid smack of a ledge had caught her. The rock was unforgiving, but if she’d missed it, she would have drowned. She did not know how long she’d blacked out.

  The sharp tang of metal flooded her mouth.

  Blood.

  She tried to sit up again, but with no more luck. Fear rolled in like storm clouds. She was a child again, paralyzed by a nightmare, unable to even call for her father.

  But wait.

  Her fingers wiggled under her belly. She’d landed on them, pinned them under herself. Leaning to the left, she freed one arm. The same happened when she tipped her weight to the right. Both elbows felt tight, skinned, but they worked. She pushed her upper body off the ground and rolled over onto her butt.

  She moved both feet, causing a blinding sear of pain in her left leg. Her pants were ripped, a dark liquid staining the edges of the tear.

  Her flashlight had disappeared. The strap must have torn off in the fall.

  Thoughts buzzed like bees. She swatted at them. Likely, she was concussed. The rope was still looped through her harness, except rather than running taut to the surface, it hung limp down to the sea. She drew it toward her, making a loop with each section. Fourteen loops later, she held the other end.

  It had been sliced cleanly.

  “Bode? Charlie?”

  She’d whispered their names, knowing it was pointless. If they hadn’t heard her before, they wouldn’t hear her now. She rubbed her hand over a goose egg the size of a peach at her temple. How long had she been out? The water appeared the same height as it had been before she’d fallen, but that could be a trick of the angle she’d looked at it from. Was it possible her blackout lasted only seconds?

  She stood, gently putting weight on her wounded leg. The pain burned, but she could stand. Thank god for the first-aid kit Bode had packed in her bandolier.

  And her phone!

  She unzipped the pocket and tugged it out. No signal. Not surprising given that she was deep inside the earth, but at least the clock worked—she was relieved to see she’d been unconscious for no more than a few minutes, maybe less—and she could use its flashlight function. Propping her cell on a rock, she removed the first-aid kit and located gauze squares and a roll of medical tape.

  She pulled aside the torn cloth of her pants, revealing a deep three-inch gash. It made her feel woozy looking at it, so she tamped the bandages over the top of the cut. The white turned red instantly. She wrapped the tape around her pants leg as many times as she could, hoping to slow down the blood flow.

  “Charlie!” she yelled, strength returning as she took control of her body. “Bode!”

  No answer.

  She glanced out to sea, a slice of sky and brightness two hundred feet beyond the cave. Bode had warned her of open water currents. Even if she could swim through the cold water of the cave, she’d have to hug the sheer cliffs of the Orkney shore for another half mile before she could climb ashore.

  The only way out was up.

  The wall opposite her appeared massive, the circle of light at the top a world away. She tried to recall every bit of Bode’s rock climbing advice. She’d listened with half an ear, never intending to need it, sure that she’d have a rope and would be doing more swinging than climbing. Bode had instructed her to establish a solid foothold before moving an arm, hug the wall like a lover, and always plan a step out. It was good life advice. She was sure he’d told her more, but she couldn’t recall it.

  Salem couldn’t hold her phone and climb at the same time. She turned off its flashlight function and tucked it away. She must rely on the dim light and her instincts to find the hand and toeholds.

  She tackled the wall, refusing to think of what awaited her on top.

  Once she compartmentalized her leg pain, climbing the first few feet was methodical. Foot in crevice, reach for handhold. Foot in new crevice, reach for new handhold. Periodically glance down and then up to get bearings. It was slow, agonizing
work. Despite the cold temperature, sweat poured down her spine and into the waistband of her pants.

  Twenty feet above the ledge that saved her life, the bruises and bumps that had gotten in line behind the sharp pain of the slash in her leg began to scream for attention. Her back was on fire. She suspected that the hot slipperiness in her shoe was accumulating blood. She looked up, estimating by the angle of the sun that she’d been climbing for half an hour.

  At this rate, she had another hour to go.

  The next handhold was an inch beyond her grasp. Her shoulders were quivering with the effort. She’d need to place her foot higher to reach it. She pushed off from the wall, gently, so she could look down at her feet in search of a new spot.

  Her eyes snagged on a shape, something unusual carved into the rock. She squinted. It was a V, at thigh level, crosshatching carved inside of it.

  The identical design as found on the Flower Rock.

  Her heart pumped a jolt of energy to her extremities.

  “I found something!” she yelled.

  The wall was damp under her hand, jagged. Straining, she felt for the shape of the V, tracing it with her fingertip. She needed to move down so it was at eye level. It hurt, mentally and physically, to give up ground. She slipped the first time she tried to lower herself, barely catching her weight. With grit and determination, her foot found a new toehold and she eased herself two feet lower.

  She found herself face to face with thirteen Vs.

  They were weathered, but they were there, carved into the stone.

  Because there was no way to hold her phone and cling to the wall, she would have to explore the Vs with her hands, searching for an irregularity or a trip switch. Starting with the etching the farthest from her, she ran her finger along its interior. Each of its legs was four inches tall and as smooth as soapstone.

  She felt inside the crosshatching. No irregularities there either. She repeated the search with the next two Vs, which were connected at their wide ends to form a diamond. Same with the fourth and the fifth Vs. The exploration was oddly soothing, like rubbing a giant worry stone. Her dad had given her one when she was five and scared of the monsters under her bed, telling her to rub her thumb across the surface of it, so smooth that it felt wet.