by Nancy Widrew
And why not? thought Karen. His real father’s dead. It’s nice Rahm takes an interest.
Jeremy broke her train of thought with a question she had wanted to ask, but pushed aside, considering it rude. For once she felt grateful for his doggedness, and zeroed in on the exchange.
“I don’t mean to offend,” said Jeremy, resting both elbows on the table. “But I couldn’t help noticing how you look at us funny. Sort of sideways.”
Karen squirmed as the tribe’s members appeared to collectively hold their breaths. Finally, Rahm cleared his throat then plunged ahead with the answer.
“Living in the dark is slowly destroying our eyesight,” he began. “Objects, faces, and colors get blurry, especially for Jon. But our peripheral vision remains strong. That’s why we tip our heads.”
Horrified, Karen asked, “Have you considered seeing a doctor?”
Rachel’s response of “Puh-leeze” caused Karen to immediately back off. Rahm, on the other hand, remained forthright, hiding nothing. “At the beginning we panicked. None of us had considered the possibility of near-blindness.” He shook his head. “I know, seems stupid, but fortunately we found a way to compensate—a solution far superior to eyesight.”
“And what’s that?” said Jeremy, eager to hear more.
Like a conspirator, Rahm pushed his chair closer. “Echolocation,” he said, articulating the syllables as if they were distinct words.
The couple turned to each other, lifted their shoulders, puzzled.
“It works like sonar,” said Rahm. “We’ve trained our voices to find the right pitch and frequency—too high for you to hear, except for the click-clicks at the starting point. We use suction from our tongues against the roofs of our mouths and go up the scale. I can tell when I’m approaching the right level because my teeth start to vibrate. When I’ve reached that triggering phase, my voice bounces off objects and the returning signals—or echoes I get—produce images in my brain.”
Karen’s mouth opened in disbelief while Jeremy countered with “Sounds amazing.”
“Would you like to see how it’s done?”
Rahm, eyes closed, lips parted, tapped his tongue against his palate, loud and slow to demonstrate the technique. He moved the tip of his tongue father back and the tapping increased, the pitch soared, resulting in a tingle on Karen’s neck. She fought the urge to scratch the affected spot, now itching like a bite from a bug. Rahm’s tongue began to flutter and the sound seemed to grow less intense until it disappeared into an inaudible range.
He looked at the astonished faces of his guests. “Of course, we do it so quickly that you’d barely notice. Would you like to give it a try?”
Jeremy jumped at the chance. When his voice rose, warbling like an adolescent, he gave up, embarrassed, and laughed with the others.
“Nice try,” said Rahm, “but maybe you’d better have more food instead.”
“What about you?” said Rahm, turning to Karen. “Want to try?”
She shook her head no but asked how they thought up the idea.
“Good question. It came from the bats.”
“The what!”
Rahm placed a placating hand on her back, high up where it met the arch of her neck. “It’s okay,” he said. “They live in another section of the cave. They fly out at night through their own passageway. Actually, they’re very useful creatures since they eat insects by the thousands, and we collect their guano for fertilizer. All that crazy, scary stuff about them getting in your hair—no need to worry. We leave them alone and they do likewise.”
“But it was actually Jon who taught us the method,” said Janet, smiling down at her son. “He’s got some kind of natural instinct. I don’t understand it, but he watches those creatures like they speak the same language.” As Janet gazed at his face with a mother’s love, Karen risked a peak—fearful not only of his appearance but his potential. Could he do more? Read minds, perhaps?
“You have every right to be proud,” said Rahm. “Of Jon, of Randy, and yourself. He turned to Jeremy, sitting to his right, and gave him a slight nudge with his elbow.
Like a restaurant critic in receipt of a bribe, Jeremy praised her cooking, from side dishes to entrees—even the grotesque samples he didn’t try—just as he planned to do in his article.
Not used to compliments, Janet’s eyelids fluttered as if a speck of dirt lodged inside, and her pale skin turned shiny pink.
“Would you like to try the salamander too?” asked Jon. “Or the worms? I helped.”
Jeremy covered his mouth, attempting to hide a look of revulsion. “I’m afraid I ate too much trout. Couldn’t eat another bite of anything.” He changed his mind when Janet placed a small bowl in front of him.
“What’s this?” he asked, peering at the tiny, round, plum-colored objects, smelling like vanilla.
“They’re berries,” said Janet. “They’re another of our little miracles. They grow in bushes near the lake. See the color? It’s one of the few things in the cave that remains so bright, and what’s more, the shade deepens or lightens every few months. We think it reflects their vitamin content. It certainly changes the flavor. Right now they’re both sweet and tart. Try some.”
Jeremy popped a fistful into his mouth. He ran his tongue across his teeth now stained purplish. “They’re good,” he said, scooping up the last few with his fingertips.
Rahm pushed back his chair and rose. The light from the candles sculpted his face, enveloping it within a sultry shadow which emphasized his strong features and high forehead. Speaking to everyone, he said, “Since Janet and the boys are on kitchen duty today, why don’t the rest of us settle in the living room where it’s more comfortable?” Then smiling down at the newcomers, he added, “You’ve been asking questions all day. I hope you won’t mind reciprocating.”
As the others walked off, Karen volunteered to help with the cleanup, recalling her mother’s advice on good manners. Janet graciously shooed her away, insisting she join her husband.
Karen took a seat beside Jeremy on one of the couches, the two lanterns casting a soothing glow in the cavernous space. She ran her hands across the fabric, feeling an abundance of grit, and imagined herself soaking in a hot tub, washing away her cares along with the palpable dirt below her nails and on her skin. She sank deeper. Rubbing her half-closed eyes with her knuckles, she said, “We have to leave soon. I can hardly stay awake.”
Jeremy pulled her close as the flickering flames washed away all lingering protestations. Her head against his shoulder, Karen fell into a well-needed sleep.
#
With his wife content, Jeremy turned to the surrounding rapt faces. “I guess I’ll let her doze for a while. We’ve been up since early morning.” Stroking the stubble on his face, Jeremy began going over local and international news, medical achievements, Hollywood scandals and gossip. From their spellbound expressions, it was obvious that some had pangs of homesickness and maybe regret over what they had left behind.
Jon, having his fill of cleaning, ran to Mary and plopped on her lap, a thumb in his mouth. Since the boy had never been above, Jeremy did his best to describe an assortment of what he would find: trees with branches, large and small, interconnecting like tendrils of hair; leaves waving at a hazy sky where pillows of dark, puffy clouds threatened rain; snow, six-feet deep or a mere dusting like rice on the pavement; sunshine; grass; and on and on. The concept of color was impossible for the boy to grasp as was the purr of a kitten.
“What’s a kitten?”
“A furry animal with four legs and a tail.”
“Fur? A tail? Wow!”
The questions were endless. Patiently, Jeremy got through them all. That top leaders from fifteen countries had recently signed a nuclear non-proliferation pact, sent the adults into reels of laughter.
“Well, at least we’re safe in the cave,” said Helene. The taut muscles around her mouth spoke contempt for the world above.
Jeremy tilted his head. “Who to
ld you that?”
Helene looked at Rahm.
“I never said we were completely safe. Just safer. The rock provides some protection from radioactive fallout, but if there’s ever a full-scale attack, we may be doomed, anyway. Still, I’d rather take my chances below.” He turned his face up and smirked. “Here we have a chance.”
Jeremy wasn’t surprised by the significance of the nuclear issue. He had come across it so often in his line of work that he expected it to crop up under any circumstance.
What did surprise him, however, was the clamor for personal information. Rachel, especially, pried into his life as if he were some A-list celebrity, even going so far as to ask if he ever fathered a child.
“No,” he answered, noting her contemptuous pout as if she were personally offended.
Rahm took a different approach using more tactical questions. “Does anyone know you’re here? Family? Friends?”
Jeremy squinched his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“What if you had an accident? Isn’t it wise to let others know your plans?”
“Yeah, you’re right, of course. And I meant to, only everything happened so fast. You see, our friends got sick and we switched caves. But come to think of it, there was another family here. We met them purely by chance. Shared lunch together.”
“So no one, that is, no one from back home knows where you are.”
Jeremy tensed, then laughed it off as overexcitement and exhaustion, compounded by the anomaly of being the interviewee rather than the interviewer. “I-I guess that’s true, but fortunately everything turned out great. Soon I’ll be in the newsroom, with a helluva story to write.” He stopped to check his watch. “Oh, shit. It’s nearly twelve.” Although he tried fighting it, a monster-sized yawn engulfed his face. He turned to Karen and wanted nothing more than to join her in sleep; in spite of that, he said, “Today has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I wish I had another week, but, unfortunately, I’m a working man.”
“It’s been our pleasure, believe me,” said Rahm, “but may I suggest you stay the night? The roads around here are difficult in the dark. You’re likely to get lost if you’re not familiar with the area.”
Jeremy paused and scratched his nose. “I understand. Still, we’d better be on our way.”
“But look at your wife.” Rahm gestured toward the sleeping figure. “She’s totally zonked out. It’s difficult enough getting back up under the best of circumstances. Even after we hoist her up the cliff, she’ll still need to climb. One bad move and you break a leg.”
Jeremy’s head dropped, sinking between his shoulders. With a nod toward Karen, lying in blissful serenity, he determined it would be the equivalent of a sin to wake her. “Okay, you’re right again, and, besides, I’m half asleep myself. Well, as long as you don’t mind—”
“Mind? We’d be delighted.”
Blankets were immediately brought over. Jeremy went to the kitchen. A small stream of water trickled from the earthen wall. He filled a cup and swished the liquid in his mouth. It was a poor substitute for brushing, but it would have to do. He walked to the toilet, carrying a lantern, and relieved himself. Finishing that, he went back to the living room and listened to Karen purring beneath the blanket someone had laid across her. Lowering it slightly, he gazed at her lovely face, so vulnerable in the candlelight.
Then it hit him like a punch in the gut. He gasped, felt chilled, and ran both hands down his cheeks, realizing he was totally dependent on these people, these strange, half-crazed, screwed-up baboons. Swaying forwards and back as if he’d been drugged, he slumped into a chair. “Shit!” he groaned. Without someone showing him the way up, he was trapped like a circus animal, allowed out only to perform. But perform what? Dead fish, he knew, were more entertaining than he was, recalling a high-school recital which earned him a “Kick Me” sign. “This is nuts,” he said, out loud to himself.
Unable to confront the possibility of any catastrophic ramifications, he erased the thought from his mind, told himself he was exaggerating, being paranoid, and replaced his concerns with a new one: What will Karen think when she wakes in the morning and sees we’re still here? For the first time, he felt guilty for forcing this upon her. I’ll make it up to her, he swore. He lay down on a nearby couch and closed his eyes, grateful as sleep overtook his exhausted body.
#
Carl snuggled under the quilt in his comfy bed, a calico kitten curling next to him. “Are they home yet?” he called to Joan, downstairs in the kitchen fixing tea with honey.
“No. I’ve phoned countless times and it’s almost midnight. You don’t suppose they went caving by themselves and something happened?”
“Nah,” said Carl as he reached for a tissue. “Jeremy knows the rule: you never go below without at least three people.” He reached for another tissue. “Jeremy sounded disappointed all right—about postponing the trip, but he understood. He said he and Karen’ll wait till we’re better. Who knows, maybe they went to a disco.”
“A disco?” Joan walked to the foot of the stairs, one hand on the banister, one holding her tea. “Are you crazy? Jeremy hates anything with dancing as much as you do. That’s why I was supposed to go to those musicals with her.”
“We’ll, whatever it is can wait for tomorrow. You coming to bed?”
“Not yet. I think I’ll watch TV a bit. My head feels swollen and I’m drowning in snot.”
“Me too, but I’m going to sleep. At least, I’m going to try. I’m bushed.”
“Okay. I’ll be up later. Sleep well. Love you.”
“Goodnight. Feel better. Love you too.”
Chapter 7
On bare feet, she moved closer to them. After listening to their even breathing, she reached for their backpacks without stirring the air. In silence, she slunk back to her quarters.
“Did you get everything?” he asked.
“Yes. Over here.” She pulled the backpacks across her body, opened the zippers and dumped out the contents. Aware of her mission, she replaced all the useless material: flashlights; a leftover sandwich; knee crawlers still in their original packages, and kept strictly to business. “Here it is,” she sang out, smiling in triumph.
Rahm wrapped his fingers around a set of keys. “I can start the car without them, but this will save time.”
Rachel muttered an inattentive “Uh-huh” as she searched through their wallets. “Just your usual junk,” she snarled. “Credit cards, insurance cards. Not even good for fertilizer.”
Picking up a plastic-coated card, Rahm turned it over. “Identification for his job at the newspaper. Says Baltimore Beehive. Ever hear of it?”
“No, but then I’ve never spent much time in Baltimore. Anyway, Jeremy said it was fairly new; had a small readership.”
“Then I doubt they’ll be missed by too many people.”
“You don’t suppose their friends—whatever their names were—could cause any problems? And what about that family, the couple with the teenage son that was here earlier? Did you recognize the man? You’re originally from this area too.”
Rahm sat back, stroking his beard. “Nope. Never met him before. Even if we went to the same schools, he’s at least a decade older than me. And, anyway, they live in Pittsburg now. They’ll probably never hear about missing persons. As for their friends … didn’t Jeremy say they think he went to a movie or a different cave, one in the opposite direction? So, don’t worry. Even if the authorities wind up searching here, they won’t find anything. We couldn’t have planned this better. For a reporter, Jeremy sure is dumb.”
“It’s ego,” said Rachel. “Stupid ego. Just hold out a chance for fame and fortune, and people forget all the good sense they’ve been taught.”
“Yeah, that too.” Rahm handed Jeremy’s ID back to Rachel. They exchanged a brief look, but long enough to read each other’s thoughts. Neither had any doubt about what they were doing. “I’m leaving now,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Be careful. So much depends on this.” She kissed him fully on the lips as if sealing a pact.
While Rachel returned the backpacks, Rahm made his way out of the cave. He had nearly a mile to climb, but with the expertise of a hoofed animal accustomed to living in mountainous conditions, he conquered each challenge.
He leaped twenty feet at a time, his suction-cup fingers grasping the limestone, sealing it with sticky secretions. “Click-click, click-click,” he exhaled as he continued onward, an unmatched human machine, proud of his skill.
If there had been an outsider present, witnessing this spectacle, he’d have though he had lost his mind and seen some mythical flying creature.
But this was real! And although Rahm’s eyesight was poor, the ultrasonic squeal coming from his mouth provided a sixth sense superior to any other. Without a doubt, he was an evolutionary marvel.
As he got closer to the mouth of the cave, however, and moonlight began to filter through, he closed his eyes. The light cast unfamiliar shadows, resulting in a moment of disorientation, and after crawling through the same tunnel that Karen and Jeremy had earlier, he donned a pair of sunglasses. Standing outside, he paused to breathe in the fresh air. It felt strange, and, yes, wonderful. He had to admit, painful as it was, that he did miss the feel of the crisp autumn breeze on his face and the sounds of night creatures foraging for food. But this was no time to be nostalgic; he had to be back by sunrise.
He walked to the car, unlocked the door, and got in. Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention while he sat behind a wheel, he put his sunglasses in his pocket. Although it had been some time since he last drove, he felt comfortable with the prospect. Good eyesight, he reminded himself, was not necessary. Turning on the ignition, he parted his lips to emit his supernatural call, a paragon of direction.
He remembered the way and wasn’t surprised to find himself almost alone; only an ear-popping clunker—its muffler obviously broken—trailed father back. He slowed down, letting it pass. Few people were aware of this road, old and unpaved, but being a local he knew of its existence, and just as he presumed, time hadn’t changed it much. It took longer than expected to drive the thirty miles, since he didn’t want to risk a flat. He could have brought the car to their safe-house, owned by Norman, but that would have been riskier since it involved driving on a main road with traffic, and besides this car was past its prime and they didn’t need another.
