Subterranean (12 page)

Halloway wasn't waiting around for any further discussion. He adjusted his helmet and dove down the chute on his board. The others waited in line to follow.

Satisfied that they were finally under way, Ashley pulled on her gloves and strapped the Velcro bands. She reached for her pack and slipped it over her shoulder. As Blakely stepped beside her, she faced the doctor as the others slipped into the wormhole. With ice in her voice, she said, “Take good care of my son.”

“Of course. Roland will make sure the boy is at the radio each morning so you can check yourself.”

She nodded, noting the others had by now all entered the wormhole. Kneeling down, she positioned the skateboard under her body. She lit her helmet's carbide lamp and grabbed the walls on either side to propel herself into the tube. Shoving off, she entered the chute.

Damn thing still looked like a sewer drain.

A
SHLEY PUSHED HER BOARD INTO HER PACK AND
crossed over to the group clustered by a grove of stalagmites. Beams of hand lanterns and helmet lamps criss-crossed the blackness like fireflies in a jar. The cavern was about the size of a football stadium, infinitely smaller than Alpha Cavern's Grand Canyon scale.

A firm breeze, balmy and moist, blew through the cavern. Linda held a handkerchief up, and it flapped like a flag in the breeze.

“Caverns breathe in and out,” Ben was explaining to Linda as Ashley walked up. “A response to changes in barometric pressure. I've even flown a kite in a cavern in Belize.”

Linda lowered her arm. “I love this wind. It's so . . . so refreshing.”

“All right, team,” Ashley said as she stepped next to Ben. “The next kilometer of this system has already been mapped, so we can proceed at a fast clip.”

Ben raised a hand. “I'd like to make a suggestion.”

Ashley nodded. “By all means, I want everyone to feel free to offer input and suggestions. We are a team.”

“Before we get to the unexplored areas ahead, I think we should buddy up. Caving involves more climbing up and down than walking on flat surfaces. In pairs, we can assist each other over the rough spots.”

“Sounds good,” Ashley said. “I think—”

Ben continued, “Also, by buddying up, we can conserve our batteries by having each pair only keep a single lamp lit. In this darkness, even a single light casts a big spot.” He grinned at her. “After a day down here, too much light hurts the eyes. Trust me.”

She nodded. Turning to the rest of the team, she pointed a thumb at Ben. “Let's do it, then. Everyone pick a partner.”

Ben stepped immediately toward her. “Howdy, partner.”

“Whoa,” Ashley said. “Did you happen to notice we have an odd number of people here? As leader, I'll join other pairs as the need arises.”

By this time, Linda and Khalid had already matched up, and the two SEALs had their heads bowed together, whispering. The remaining teammates, Michaelson and Ben, stared at each other.

“Shit,” the major mumbled.

“Me and my dumb ideas,” Ben said with a shake of his head.

Ashley hid a grin as she adjusted her pack. “With that out of the way, let's head on. We've got a lot of ground to cover.”

She nodded toward the pair of grumbling men. “Ben and Michaelson will take the point. Let's all pay strict attention to Ben for the next few miles. He's the most experienced in caving, and I want everyone to learn proper spelunking skills and safety precautions. Let's not end up like that other team.”

The group shifted backpacks into place and excess hand lanterns were clicked off. The level of light, Ashley noted, did not diminish to any significant degree. She followed Ben and Michaelson. As she walked, she cast her lantern back and forth, the darkness sucking at her light.

Her mind turned to her mission—both missions. She imagined being stranded in this Stygian blackness, watching the last of her batteries drain away while the darkness enveloped her in a cold embrace. She shivered. And what about the cliff builders, those long-lost ancestors of man? How did they survive in this eternal darkness?

She shook herself from this reverie as the team arrived at the next wormhole entrance. She stepped to the front.

Ben had his notebook-sized compass open, a geopositional tool tuned to a radio transmitter at the base that allowed Ben to calibrate not only their precise position in relation to the points of the compass but also the team's depth.

“They call this a map?” Ben said. As guide, he was keeper of the sketchy diagram drawn by the previous searchers. “It's crap. Look.” He shoved the paper toward her. “No compass points, no distinct cavern delineations, no depth markers . . . No wonder the other team got lost!”

“That's why you're here,” Ashley said. “You just map our way back home. We're counting on you.”

“Well . . .” he said, stumbling for words, the wind knocked out of his sails. “A child could have done a better job.”

“Then that makes you right for the job.”

He looked sharply at her, and she gave him her best innocent expression. Seemingly satisfied, he turned away, his compass in hand.

She shook her head. Sometimes he and Jason were frighteningly similar. “If everyone is ready,” she said, “let's proceed. I want to be into the new territory by the time we set up camp tonight.”

Ashley hesitated.

“Just a little farther,” Ben called to her from below.

Sucking at her lower lip, she stared down the steep slope before her. It looked more like a mile. Greased with mud, the cliff was slick as ice. Her eyes snaked upward, following her rope. Michaelson was snugged into a crevice several yards above and secured in place with a safety rope. Above him, at the lip of the cliff, hung Villanueva, clinging to a spur of rock and secured with a safety line. It was these two men's jobs to ensure a safe descent for the other teammates.

Ashley took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall as she had been instructed, allowing the rope to brake in the carabiner bars to stop her descent. She scrabbled downward, the toe of her left boot balancing on a protruding stone. Just a little farther.

The stone that had been supporting her suddenly slipped loose and tumbled downward. She plummeted after it, the rope racing between her gloved hands. Ben had schooled them to yell, “Falling!” when this sort of thing happened, but with her breath caught in a fear-constricted grip, all she could do was let out a high-pitched whine.

After a heartbeat, the whistling rope snagged in her carabiner and her descent jerked to a halt. A grunt of protest echoed from above as Michaelson caught her weight.

“Hey, careful up there,” Ben yelled. “You damn near gave me a rock facial.”

“Sorry,” she said to the muddy wall swinging inches from her nose, both hands clamped on the rope.

“C'mon, relax, kid,” Ben said. “Just get those feet back on the wall and finish the descent. You're almost on solid ground.”

It was the solidness of that ground that concerned her. She had pictured her head slamming into that solid ground as she was falling, but she wasn't about to remain hanging here. There was only one way out of this predicament. Pulling into a squatting position, she got her boots up on the wall and straightened her legs out, pushing from the wall. With a jump, she rappelled down two yards and caught the wall with her boots. Not hesitating this time, she shot outward again and dropped another couple of yards. After two more hops, she felt Ben's arms around her waist.

“There you go,” he said in her ear. “Piece of cake.”

She settled her legs on the rocky floor, her knees wobbling a bit. “Yeah, no problem.”

“This is good practice. Luckily we came across this bunny slope the first day. I'm sure there's hairier cliffs ahead of us.”

She craned her head back. Villanueva was just a blur of light at the edge of the cliff above. She suppressed a groan, leaning on a stalagmite. And this was only day one.

*     *     *

Ashley rubbed her back, lowering herself slowly onto her air mattress. She could hear Michaelson mumbling into the radio several yards away, giving his final report of the day. The team had discovered signs of the previous party's passage—discarded items, boot tracks in silt, scruffs on rock—and were sticking close to their trail.

She let out a long sigh, stretching. A sharp jab in her lower back protested the motion. Their progress today seemed more like a battle. Slippery mud covered most of the walkways; sharp gypsum crystals clung to her entire body like sand on a beach, and grew more abrasive with each step; steep slopes and sharp inclines impeded their forward movement, slowing them to a crawl.

Worst of all, though, was the heat. An omnipresent wet blanket that grew heavier as the day's journey wore on. She took off her headband and twisted it, wringing out a stream of sweat. She now understood how risky dehydration was in caving. She unscrewed the top of her canteen, almost empty now. Tipping it back, she swallowed the last warm drops.

“You'll have to watch your water,” Ben warned. “We can't count on finding a water hole every day.” He nodded toward the small lake pooled in the back half of the cavern, half hidden by an outcropping of rock.

“I knew about this water hole,” she said. “It's on the map.”

“True, but this is the last cavern marked on the map. From here, it's to points unknown.”

“I know. I'll be more conservative tomorrow. We should remind everyone in the morning. Especially Linda. She ran out of water at lunch and has been borrowing from my canteen.”

“Yours too, huh?” Ben said with a smile. “She finished the last of mine an hour ago.”

“Clever girl,” Ashley said. “By the way, where is she?”

“Over at the pond . . . getting a drink of water.”

She shook her head. “Tomorrow we'll need to be more strict with rationing.”

“Oh, just leave her be. I was just joking. She's over there doing a water analysis. Besides, she's having a tough time of it.”

“We all are.”

Ben gestured toward the two SEALs, who were setting up the campstove a handful of yards away. Light pooled around them from their lanterns. “They barely broke a sweat.”

She watched as Villanueva stripped off a khaki T-shirt and wiped his face and armpits before slipping into a green vest. With a small pop, Halloway lit the butane for the campstove. Both appeared as refreshed as if today's journey were nothing more than a Sunday walk through the park, while everyone else dragged as if just completing the Bataan death march, haggard, bone-tired. Her stomach rumbled audibly.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “I'm hungry too. But there's nothing except freeze-dried beans and franks.”

“Right now, that would fit the bill.”

Ben grinned. “Though a beer to wash it all down . . . now,
that
would be heaven.” As he sat down on his own mattress, he suddenly swatted at his arm. “Hey, something just bit me!”

“What?”

He shined a light on his arm.

She leaned over and looked at the spot. “Looks like a mosquito.”

“Bloody large skeeter. Just 'bout took a chunk out of my arm.”

“Quit exaggerating.”

He poked her with a finger. “Wait until you get speared. Don't come crying to me.”

“That's odd,” she said, scratching behind an ear. “What's a mosquito doing in Antarctica? Way down here?”

Ben's expression became serious. “Good question. You don't often find insects down here. Crickets, a few spiders, centipedes, that sort of thing—but I don't think I've ever seen a mosquito.”

Ashley wondered at the significance of such a discovery. “Maybe we'd better ask our biologist.”

*     *     *

“Thanks for sharing your water today, Khalid,” said Linda. “I couldn't have made it without your help.”

“Anytime,” he said, breathing in the dank air. He sat on a rock, watching Linda scooping water into small glass vials. He appreciated the wide furrow of moisture down the middle of her back, pasting the cotton T-shirt to her body. The clasp of her bra was visible through the thin fabric. He bit his tongue to control his rising lust.

Smiling at him, Linda stood up and sat on the boulder beside him, shaking the vial in her hand. “That last ridge was brutal. I'm glad we're done for the day.”

He could feel her body heat pulsing across the hand span of space between them. They sat in silence, Linda studying the crystal surface of the pond, Khalid studying her.

“My god!” she suddenly exclaimed, jumping to the edge of the black water. “Khalid, look over here.” She crouched on her knees, waving him toward her.

He crossed to her, inhaling her scent, a hypnotic perfume in the moist air. “What is it?”

She lifted a curled shell, dripping and luminescent in the lamp's glow, that had been partially hidden by a rock in the shallows. Khalid cocked his head to the side. It looked similar to a snail's shell, but it was huge. Almost the size of a watermelon.

He asked again. “What is it?”

She rolled into a seated position, cradling the large shell in her lap. “If it's what I think it is . . .” She shook her head and placed a hand on his knee. “If it wasn't for your insistence that we stay a little longer, I may have missed it.”

Her hand was a burning ember on his knee. He fought against pulling her into a hard embrace. A tightening in the crotch of his coveralls protested his restraint. “What's so special about an empty shell?” he asked in a strained voice.

Before she could answer, voices intruded.

“I'm telling you, the damned skeeter bit worse than a snake with broken fangs.”

*     *     *

Ben spotted Khalid and Linda crouched by the shore of the pond. He noticed Linda slip her hand from the geologist's knee just as they rounded the rocky escarpment. Ben raised an eyebrow.