by Ike Hamill
“It’s easier than it looks,” Miguel said.
“It would have to be,” Travis said. “It looks fucking impossible.” He was going to have to do something pretty soon. His arms and legs were both getting very tired. He couldn’t afford to hang between the walls for too long.
Travis lost his grip with his sweaty hand. He couldn’t reach the spot again. He was going to fall. In his desperation, he kicked off from the wall and tried to propel himself to the other side. He didn’t have enough momentum. Pulling at the rock wasn’t helping—it was only serving to mess up his grip. When his sweaty hand finally found the wall, he wrapped his fingers around a sharp hunk of rock. He felt the edge cutting into his flesh, but he didn’t care. He kicked his free leg at the wall trying to find a foothold. His anchor-foot slipped.
For one terrible second, Travis was holding himself up by his hands alone. His grip wasn’t up to the task. Just in time, his feet found a crack to support his weight.
“That’s it. Now just shimmy over here,” Miguel said.
“Fuck. Off,” Travis said. He shifted one hand and then the other. He moved his feet the same direction. At this pace, he estimated that it would only take a week or two for him to reach Miguel.
“Now just move up to that big crack at your left knee,” Miguel said.
“Will you shut the hell up?” Travis asked. “You’re not helping.” He did move his foot up. The crack was a good call—his foot fit in there naturally. Travis didn’t have much maneuverability in his head. He was too close to the wall to point his light around easily. When Miguel turned away, Travis lost most of the light that was guiding him.
“Hey!” Travis shouted. “Look back this way.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Miguel said. “Listen. You might want to hurry up, I think.”
“What?”
“Just a little. It’s going to be fine,” Miguel said.
“Tell me what you’re talking about,” Travis said. He inched his hand over to a new spot and then retracted it. The rock was too smooth and he couldn’t grip it.
“It’s probably nothing,” Miguel said. The light disappeared and then swept back right away. “Don’t sweat it. Just hurry.”
“Those are two different things,” Travis said. “I can either hurry, or not sweat it. You’re going to have to decide.” Sweat rolled down the side of his face as he probed for the next foothold. He wished that Miguel would offer him more advice on where to go, but he still had just enough pride that he wouldn’t ask.
“Maybe you should hurry,” Miguel said.
Travis stretched for a better grip. When he swung his leg out to the next crack, he lost his other foot hold. When his trailing hand slipped, he was fully committed. Travis swung on his handhold. His foot popped out of the crack before he could put any weight on it. Travis wedged it in again before trying. His hand felt like one giant cramp and his fingers began to give up.
He got both hands to his handhold and wedged his other foot against the wall. When he looked back towards Miguel, he was holding his hand out.
“It’s too far,” Travis said.
“There’s something coming,” Miguel whispered. “I don’t like the sound of it, okay?”
“Shit,” Travis said under his breath. He pulled with his hands and pushed off with his feet. He launched himself towards the ledge where Miguel was reaching out. His momentum carried him right into Miguel. They both fell backwards to the rock.
Miguel was sitting at the lip of a bigger tunnel. Travis extinguished his light before peeking up over the edge. The glow coming from the tunnel was unmistakable. For a second he wondered how long they had been underground. He wondered if it could be sunlight he was seeing.
He heard a big expulsion of air.
Travis sunk back down below the edge of the lip.
“Did you hear it?” Miguel asked.
Travis nodded.
“When I was a kid, my parents took me down to San Diego to see the elephants. They sounded like that when they would blow dust on their backs,” Travis said.
Miguel nodded.
“So where do we go?” Travis asked.
Miguel shrugged.
Travis’s eyes grew wide. He grabbed the front of Miguel’s shirt. “Why did you tell me to come up here if there’s nowhere to go?”
“There’s nothing back that way, right? I figured we had to go this way.”
“Towards whatever that is?” Travis asked. He let go of Miguel’s shirt.
“Maybe it’s just mine equipment still running,” Miguel said.
“You’re crazy.”
Travis ignited his headlamp again and looked down over the edge of the ledge. The wall beneath them was smooth. They would have to climb laterally, back over to the crack before they could start down. Travis wasn’t sure he could even make the first reach.
Travis took a slow breath and turned back to the lip. He lifted his head over the edge and watched the yellow light. His headlamp was dim in comparison. As he watched, the light swelled and then faded.
“Okay,” Travis whispered. “Let’s go see what it is.”
“Maybe one of us should hang back with the bag, just in case,” Miguel said.
“Go fuck yourself,” Travis said. “Come on.”
Chapter Eighteen — Grounded
FLORIDA DOUBLED OVER AND propped her hands against her knees. Her light bobbed as she panted. She removed her pack, withdrew her water, and took a small sip. She held the bottle up in front of her light. It was about three-quarter’s full. She put it safely back in the bag and pointed her light in there. She assessed her supplies.
Light wouldn’t be a problem—at least for a while. Flares, flashlights, and batteries had been carefully packed by one of Dr. Grossman’s assistants. Florida had added her lunch to the stash. One day. If she could get out in one day, she would be fine. Two would be a stretch.
Florida turned off the radio. She counted to ten and turned it back on.
“Command, this is team J-6. Request radio check. Over.”
Static.
She turned the radio off again. Best to save the batteries until she had a reason to suspect there might be a signal.
Florida shouldered her pack and started walking again. She thought more clearly when she was in motion. Following the left wall had been a good first idea, but it didn’t hold up to scrutiny. She imagined a mine that was shaped like a wheel with spokes that radiated out to a big ring. If they had entered on one of the spokes, She could have accidentally chosen the outside ring to follow. If that was the case, she would be circling forever.
She needed a map. She needed landmarks.
The mine just couldn’t be that big. She had been jogging forever and she had seen no indication of the other students or her lab partner. Even if this was a big conspiracy to screw with her, they would have a difficult time completely disguising their presence from a woman running through their maze. That explanation didn’t make sense anyway. Dr. Grossman would never get clearance to torture students as part of an experiment. And this was definitely torture.
If she assumed that she was on the outer loop of a big circle, then would a right turn work? She pictured it in her head and saw herself circling a pie-shaped wedge formed by two spokes and an arc. Florida shook away the thought. Following a wall wouldn’t help.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The radio would give her a rough position. Regardless of whether or not they answered her, when she was within a certain distance of the base-station her radio was silent after a call instead of giving off static. She could use that to at least make one landmark. The vertical shaft to the round room was another potential landmark. She would have to put a mental pin in that one. Florida wasn’t eager to return to the last place she’d seen Roger. He seemed to be up to something, and she wanted no part of his games.
Without breaking her stride, Florida pulled out her radio and held it to her chest. She turned the volume to its lowest setting and clicked the button on the side.
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Static.
She kept walking. After twenty more paces, she cycled the button again.
Static.
Just after the radio shut off, she heard something else. It was a musical sound. Little notes tickled the edge of her perception. Florida walked another twenty paces and tried again.
Static.
Then, after a moment, she heard the sound again. It was laughter. Florida looked at the radio while she walked. As she counted out the twenty steps, she mustered her courage. She clicked the button on the radio.
Static.
Laughter.
“Hello?” she called out. The laughter stopped abruptly. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, but Florida forced herself to continue walking. Twenty more paces and another click of the radio. She listened.
Static.
Laughter.
But it was weaker. The laughter sounded farther away and it ended more quickly. After another twenty paces, her next click brought even less laughter. She couldn’t stand it. She turned around and looked back the way she had come. After rushing back to her previous position, she tried again. It seemed louder, but she wasn’t sure. She retraced her steps and found the spot where it was loudest. There was a definite change in volume.
Again, doubt crept in. How could she be sure that the change in volume was due to her location, and not just some random fluctuation? Florida let out an exasperated sigh. She turned to repeat the experiment. It was the only way to be sure.
Chapter Nineteen — Darkness
JUSTIN LISTENED.
AS HIS eyes gave up on resolving anything in the darkness, his ears opened to the cave around him. With the rock in his hand, he tapped the big slab he was sitting on. The sound echoed. He tried to imagine how the echoes mapped to the walls around him.
He wondered about animals who become trapped in caves. If he could stay alive, would he eventually be able to navigate by clicks, like a bat? Did people have that capability, or was it some different kind of circuitry that connect a bat’s ears to its brain?
His blindness was a function of his frugality. He had a headlamp, and he had a candle and some matches. If he wanted to, he could light up the room.
But he had been the type of kid who would ration his Halloween candy until well after Thanksgiving, and he was the kind of adult who would rather wait in the darkness than use up his limited supply of light.
If it were just Miguel and Travis out there, he would be worried. But Joy was responsible. She was a few years older than the rest of them and she had her shit together. She was in a terrible relationship with that bully, Brit, but from what Justin heard, she was on her way to breaking that off.
Justin envied her. She knew what she wanted and she moved towards it. Everyone had said she was crazy when she quit Del Taco. She had been on the fast track to managing the whole store. But a few months later she had become a real executive. She had avoided the ceiling of Del Taco and had landed a position with Chassman and Sons. They had offices everywhere. After she worked there a year, she would be able to transfer to a bigger branch and move out of Barstow forever. They all wanted it, but she had found a way to do it safely and strategically.
Justin wondered if he could follow her example. He was no good at math, and he couldn’t stand a job where he had to wear a tie. Chassman was out. Justin didn’t have any interest in grocery supply anyway.
His dad had trucked cattle his whole life, and somehow been able to pay for a decent house. Those days were over. Justin could barely afford a shitty apartment. How did they expect people to live?
“I’m going crazy,” Justin whispered.
He wasn’t doing any good just sitting there, thinking about how terrible his life was. He was young and capable. These were supposed to be his wild and fun years. This was the time before he settled down that he was supposed to be out making memories. Aside from being alone in the dark, this was a pretty decent memory. He had gone into a cave with a bunch of friends and found gold. That was a story for the grandkids. Now he just needed to stay alive in order to have those grandkids.
Justin dumped his matches into his hand with extreme care. He counted them as he put them back into the box—seventeen.
He didn’t know how long the candle would last, or how much fuel was left in his headlamp. He didn’t know how far underground he was, or how long it would take the others to get back. Regardless of what happened, they always had Ryan. He was their ace in the hole. Even if everything went bad, Ryan was on the outside and he knew where they were.
“Shit,” Justin whispered.
Ryan didn’t have the keys. Joy had kept her keys and given the spare to Kristin. Oh well—if daylight came, Ryan would probably walk to the highway and flag someone down. He would be hungry and thirsty, and then he would get help.
Justin stood up.
He unclamped his headlamp and turned on the valve to let the water drip. He shook the canister until he could hear the gas escaping from the jet. With a flick of the flint wheel, the lantern was going again.
He took two of his matches and made an X where he had been sitting.
-o-o-o-o-o-
He looked up and down the length of cave. The cavern looked like it had been an underground river. The walls were carved down into long flat steps. At the lowest part of the passage, their group had walked through the sandy deposits. Justin knelt and ran his fingers through that sand. He didn’t know which way the water had run. It looked roughly the same either direction.
But, if he had to guess, he would say that upstream was the same direction as the fissure. The ledge had collapsed, but maybe it wasn’t the only way to get from the cave to the mine. Maybe there was another fissure farther upstream.
There was only one way to find out.
Justin started walking.
He made a couple of agreements with himself. He made up his own safety rules.
First, he would turn back if his headlamp gave out. The candle should be enough light to get him back to safety, as long as he was careful not to let it go out too often. Second, and related to the first, he would only follow the dry riverbed if it was safe and easy to do so. As soon as he reached a place that required climbing, or traversing a pit, or fighting deadly snakes, or outrunning a pack of wild dragons, he would stop and turn around. This walk was all about alleviating boredom and killing time. He was not going to put himself in jeopardy just because he was bored.
The underground riverbed wound left and then right.
Justin felt the wind on his face. His headlamp flickered.
After a deep grinding that shook the floor—it sounded like stone on stone—the wind disappeared.
Justin stopped and moved his light around the space. It had sounded like a heavy stone being slid into place. That visual made sense with the wind being blocked at the same time. He imagined that a giant stone was now covering an exit that led out into the night. He’d heard the sound before, right after they came into the mine. It sounded more sinister this time—probably because he was alone. Where was Miguel to freak out and run away when he needed him? Making fun of Miguel always made him feel a little more calm.
Justin took a deep breath and looked up the sloping rocks. He had a sense of where the wind had come from.
“Here goes rule number two,” he mumbled.
Justin grabbed the shoulder-high rock in front of him and jacked himself up. He swung a leg up and looked back to orient himself before he went higher. The ceiling of the cave followed the contour of the wall, so it closed in on him as he climbed. He still had plenty of room to move around. He wasn’t really in jeopardy as far as he could figure.
He came to a place where the rock that was the ceiling curved upwards. The wall got pretty steep as well. He was standing on a ledge in a long horizontal channel that was a few feet wide. Justin glanced down to make sure he still knew how to get back. He couldn’t shut off his curiosity. Just above his head, it looked like the cave opened up again. He had to know
if it was true.
Justin made short work of the climb. It really wasn’t difficult. He dusted off his pants and stood up in this new space. It was bigger. In fact, it was almost as big as the mine shafts he had started this adventure in. It was clearly not hand-dug though. The contours had been shaped by flowing water, just like the caves below.
“Speaking of which,” he said. He looked down and scuffed an arrow on the rock with his shoe. His effort left a pretty good indicator. With that, he would know where it was safe to drop back down to the cave below.
The cave was flat and easy. It ran like a planned tunnel in both directions. Justin walked along it, just to see if he could tell where it went. He turned several times to make sure he could still see his scuff mark on the ground.
When he turned back around, he jolted with a minor shock. There was a face looking back at him.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Justin exhaled a relieved laugh. He reached forward and touched the painting. It was done with just one pigment, but it had been expertly applied to indicate shadows and highlights. The woman depicted was beautiful. She had a bold, straight nose and sad eyes. The hair framed her face perfectly. It wasn’t the only drawing. Justin took another few steps and found a man’s facing looking back at him. He kept walking and found an old man and then a girl. He cast his light down the cave wall—people stretched forever. He looked for some clue about the age of the drawings. They didn’t wear any jewelry and the drawings never included the neck or any clothing. They could have been made last week or a thousand years before.
Did the native people of California ever create realistic cave art?
He didn’t know.
