Excavation (21 page)

Denal sidled to the edge of the river's carved stone bank. The waters flowed about a meter below the lip. “I go first,” he said, looking back. “Make sure it be safe.”

“No, Denal,” Maggie said and reached for him.

He stepped beyond her reach. “I be strong swimmer. If I make it to the far side, I yell.” He glanced at the other faces. “Then you all come. If no call, then no come.”

Sam moved toward the boy. “I'll do it, Denal,” Sam said, patting the side pocket of his vest. “I have my Wood's lamp to light the way.”

Denal pulled the lamp from his own pocket and flicked on the purplish light. “I no ask. I go.” The boy then turned and jumped over the lip's edge.

“Denal!” Sam yelled, rushing to the river.

Maggie stopped Sam from leaping in after him. She followed the boy's path in the current. He bobbed in the water
as it thrust him back and forth in the narrow channel, but he managed to keep the lamp thrust above the water, its purplish glow a beacon in the dark cave. Then the river carried him past a curve in the wall and down a tunnel.

“Damn kid picked my pocket,” Sam muttered, a mixture of respect and worry in his voice.

“He'll make it,” Maggie said.

The waiting quickly grew intolerable. None dared speak lest they miss Denal's call.

Only Ralph hung back at the foot path, keeping an eye on the spiders. “Here comes the main army,” he warned.

Maggie swung around. It was as if a foaming white surf crested just at the edge of their light's reach. “C'mon, Denal, don't let us down.”

As if the boy had heard her, a sharp distant cry echoed from farther in the caves. Denal had made it.

“Thank God,” Sam sighed. “Let's get out of here.”

Norman quickly finished packing his gear into a waterproof case while Ralph climbed over to join them, eyes still on the tarantulas.

Sam unslung the Winchester and nodded for Ralph to do the same with his rifle. “Try to keep your gun above water. The rifles could probably survive a short dip, but I'd rather keep them dry.”

Ralph finally turned and eyed the water with a sick expression. “To hell with the rifle, I just hope I can keep my own head above water.” He raised his face to the other three. “I can't swim.”

“What?” Sam exclaimed. “Why didn't you tell us that before?”

Ralph shrugged. “Because Maggie was right. The river's the only way out of here.”

Norman shoved up next to them. “I'll stick with Ralph. I did a stint in water rescue in the army.”

Ralph frowned at him, disbelieving. “You were in the army?”

“Three years at Fort Ord, until I was discharged during a witch-hunt at my base.” Norman's face took on a bitter cast. “So much for don't ask, don't tell.”

Ralph shook his head. “I'll take my chances on my own.”

The photographer's face grew fierce. He snapped at Ralph, “Like hell you will, you brain-addled jock. Quit this macho posturing and accept some help. It's not like I'm gonna try to cop a feel. You're not even my type!” Norman shoved his camera case at Ralph, his voice serious. “It's insulated with foam. It's meant to float after a raft capsizes. Keep the damn thing clutched to your chest, and I'll do the rest.”

Ralph took the case reluctantly. “What about this?” He held up Gil's rifle.

Sam reached for it. “I'll manage both.”

He reached for the gun, but Maggie snatched it first. “Two guns will weigh you down, Sam. The flashlight is waterproof and doesn't weigh nary a bit.”

Sam hesitated, then nodded. “At the first sign of trouble, toss the rifle away. We need the light more than we need a second gun.”

She nodded at his advice. “Let's go. The spiders aren't gonna like their meal escaping.”

Sam waved for Norman and Ralph to go first, just in case of trouble. Sam and Maggie would follow.

Norman slid down to a small spit of rock just above the waterline, arms cartwheeling for balance. “Now,” he called up to Ralph.

The large football player bit his lower lip, clutched the camera case to his chest, and jumped in before his fear of the water drove him away.

Maggie kept her light focused on them. Norman dived in smoothly, his lithe form coming up beside the floundering black man. “Lie on your back!” Norman yelled as the current dragged the two away. “Hug the case tight to your chest!”

Ralph fumbled around a bit more, coughing water and
kicking frantically.

“Don't fight it!”

Ralph finally obeyed, rolling to his back.

Norman swam at his side, one hand snarled in the neck of Ralph's shirt, keeping the man's head above water. As the two drifted away, Norman admonished the big man with one final warning. “Keep tight to that case,” he sputtered. “Lose my cameras, and I'll let you drown!”

“We're next,” Sam said, shoving his Stetson into his pack. “You ready?”

Maggie took a deep breath and nodded.

“You gonna be okay?” he said, straightening and meeting her eyes.

Maggie knew he was referring to her panic attacks more than the threat from the water. “It was my idea, wasn't it? I'll be fine.”

“You first then,” he said.

She opened her mouth to argue when she felt a tickle on her leg. Glancing down, she saw a tarantula as large as a fist climbing up her khakis. Gasping in disgust, she knocked it away with her flashlight. Raising Gil's snub-nosed rifle above her head, she jumped gracelessly into the water.

Her back and bottom crashed into the water with a resounding splash. The brief sting of the impact was immediately replaced with lung-constricting cold. Her head burst above the water with a silent scream of shock. All her muscles cramped tight. She had to force her limbs to move. The cold burned through her clothes and froze the breath in her lungs.

Sam splashed just behind her.

Before she could turn or speak, the current grabbed her and started sweeping her down the channel. Maggie floated on her back, legs thrust before her so she could bounce off any unseen obstacles. She kept the flashlight above the water and used the stock of the rifle as a paddle to help her stay afloat.

Just at the edge of her light's reach, she saw Norman and Ralph disappearing down the throat of the river tunnel.

Sam called to her. “How you holding up?”

Maggie frowned. Now was not the time for a conversation. She spat out a mouthful of cold water after a sudden splash had caught her by surprise. The icy water froze even the fillings in her mouth. “Fine!” she sputtered.

Then the current dragged her into the black maw of the tunnel. The low roof flew by overhead, low enough that the tip of the rifle dragged along the rock above. Small sparks spat out where steel and rock rubbed. The scraping sound was eerily loud in the tight space.

Just as suddenly they were out of the tunnel and into the bat cave. Maggie's eyes instantly stung; her nose burned. Overhead, circling bats dove and glided through the edge of the flashlight's beam, still disturbed and wary of the two-legged intruders. A small sliver of sunlight lightened one corner of the arched roof. The bat's doorway. Too high and too small to do them any good.

But Maggie had little time for sight-seeing. The current had grown even swifter through this chamber, a mixed blessing. Though the swift waters churned a cloud of mist that washed away the worst of the guano fumes, the faster waters also frothed and tossed her body more vigorously.

Maggie's limbs grew leaden as the cold tried to freeze the marrow of her bones. Breathing became laborious. She gave up trying to keep the rifle above water and used it as a rudder to keep her from bouncing too hard against the jagged rocks on either side. She concentrated on just keeping the flashlight pointed forward.

Now nearly blind from the fumes and with her nose on fire, Maggie gasped and choked. Something suddenly scrabbled at her upraised arm, weighting it down, digging at her skin. Blinking, Maggie saw a huge bat perched on her arm, tiny claws scratching at her, leathered wings batting wildly. Sharp fangs glinted in the glow of the flashlight. She let out a strangled gasp. Wide eyes and huge ears swung toward the sound. Crying out, she shoved her arm underwater, taking her chances that the flashlight was insulated enough to take
a short dunk. She was in luck; the flashlight shone brightly under the water, and the shock of the cold stream dislodged the bat.

It rolled through the water, bumping against her shoulder as it passed.

Maggie lifted the flashlight from the water, paddling fiercely.

Then the bat was on her again. Maggie felt a small tug on her hair trailing in the water. Like a hooked fish, the bat had snatched at this purchase. Now twisting and rolling, it climbed the tangled strands. Maggie felt tiny claws scratch at her scalp. The bat screeched wildly, almost in her ear.

The creature's distress call was answered from above. The cavern erupted with squeaks and supersonic piping, like fingernails dragged across a blackboard. Overhead, the roof seemed to drop lower as the entire massed colony took flight, diving toward the screeching bat tangled in Maggie's hair.

Oh, God
! She beat at the winged creature with her flashlight, trying to club it away, but only succeeded in snarling it further. Claws ripped across her cold cheek, a line of fire.

Suddenly a hand appeared, pushing back her flashlight. “Hold still!”

It was Sam. He grabbed the squirming bat and ripped it from its nest in her hair, tearing out hundreds of roots along with the foul creature. He tossed it away. The bat hit the far bank with a wet smack.

“Here they come!” Sam yelled.

Maggie barely had time to see the dark cloud descend toward them, and even less time to take a breath, before Sam shoved her head underwater. Maggie would have panicked, but Sam held tight to her, his body close to hers, his touch the only warmth in the icy stream. She released control to him, letting him carry her as she held her trapped breath.

Soon the channel straightened, and the current grew swift and smooth. Maggie risked opening her eyes. The flashlight
still glowed under the water, illuminating Sam's face. His blond hair, normally plastered under his Stetson, wove like fine kelp across his face. His eyes met hers. She drew strength from his solid gaze. He pulled her tighter to him. She didn't resist.

The current dragged them swiftly away, tumbling them to and fro. Maggie's lungs cried for air. Unable to hold out any longer, she wiggled slightly from Sam's grasp and pushed toward the surface. She would only risk a quick breath.

As her head popped from the water, she gulped air into her frozen lungs. She was ready to duck back down, when she noticed two things—the air had cleared of the burning sting and just ahead a small purplish glow lit the left bank.

Sam surfaced beside her with a whoosh of expelled air.

Maggie lifted her flashlight and pointed. “There!”

Sam twisted around. As they neared the site, Maggie spotted Norman helping Ralph from the water. The huge football player crawled on hands and knees. Atop the bank, Denal was limned in the eerie light of the Wood's lamp. His teeth shone a whitish purple as he waved the lamp overhead, signaling to them.

Together, Maggie and Sam kicked toward the shore, but they didn't have to struggle far. The channel curved with a deep natural eddy at the bend. The current tossed Maggie and Sam into the sluggish pocket. With limbs deadened by cold and clothes waterlogged, it was an effort to climb from the water. Like Ralph, Maggie found herself crawling onto the bank and collapsing on her back.

Sam threw himself across the rock beside her, tossing his Winchester up higher on the stony bank. “So much for keeping the guns dry.”

Norman stepped beside Maggie. His teeth chattered as he spoke. “Y…you both need to keep moving. And…and get out of those wet clothes.” He tugged off his own soaked shirt.

Maggie noticed Denal had already stripped to his skivvies, and Ralph was slowly kicking off his clinging pants.

“We're not out of danger yet,” Norman continued. “That water was near freezing. We'll die unless we can get dry and warm.”

Maggie found her limbs beginning to tremble. Sam glanced at her. “It's j…just the cold,” she said, knowing what he was thinking.

“Up with the both of you,” Norman said sternly.

Groaning, Sam pushed up as the photographer offered Maggie his arm. Too exhausted to object, she took Norman's hand and let him help her to her feet.

“Now strip,” he said.

Maggie's fingers were numb and blue in the flashlight beam. She fumbled at her buttons and shrugged out of her shirt, too cold and exhausted to worry about exposing herself.
Hell
, she thought, yanking her zipper down,
a good blush would be welcome right now
.

Soon she stood in nothing but her wet bra and panties.

The others kept their eyes politely turned, except Denal who stared widely at her. Once the boy realized he was caught gaping, he quickly looked away.

Maggie scowled to cover her grin. She slapped Sam on his damp boxers as she stepped past him. “Norman says to keep moving. We have to stay warm.”

Maggie could feel Sam's eyes on her back as she moved away. The Texan mumbled behind her, “Oh, don't worry. Keep walking ahead of me dressed like that, and I'll be plenty warm.”

This time she couldn't hide her smile.

“Th…this must lead somewhere,” Sam said, trying to control his chattering teeth, as he pointed out the gold path that continued along the river.

No one answered, busy as they were shivering and rubbing frigid limbs. The icy water had lowered everyone's core body temperature and, with no way to start a fire, they
were all at risk of hypothermia. They needed to find a dry, warm place…and soon.

Sam, who had moved ahead of them, suddenly called out. With his flashlight pointed over a rise in the trail, Sam's half-naked form was striking, limned in the back glow. Maggie had not realized just how fine a physique her fellow colleague had hidden under his baggy clothes. From broad shoulders down to his narrow waist and strong legs, Sam struck a handsome pose.