“What’s the word, Bob?” Dale hurried up to the huddle, securing his oxygen and mask.
“After the first airdrop they have coming in, we’re to hike five miles in and set up a line. We’ll wet and clear any path to the Inn. Sounds pretty basic.”
“Okay men, let’s get to it.” Dale clapped his hands together and headed off toward the woods across from the parking lot, but Fred grabbed him by the arm. “What?”
“You look exhausted.”
“We all are.”
Fred shook his head. “Listen to me; you need to get your game face on, because if you go out there half asleep we’re going to lose you too.”
Dale pulled free of Fred’s grip and headed off across the lot, moving quickly to distance himself from him. They’d been friends a long time and he knew Fred very well, but Dale wasn’t going to sit back and let the rangers comb the bushes for his man. He was Paul’s lieutenant and was responsible for him, whether he was beside him or lost. But what Fred told him did set in. If he was too tired, he could cause an accident or make a foolish call that would put them all in danger. Dale shook his head and worked out some of the exhaustion, but by no means all of it. The bags beneath his eyes were not so easy to hide, even with the mask on.
“Ranger Rand seems pretty on the ball.” Fred moved quickly to catch up, figuring he’d let Dale sulk for three miles. They’d passed the farthest cabins from the Inn about ten minutes ago and there was nothing ahead of them but trees and flames. “I think he’ll try his hardest to find Paul.”
Dale just nodded; he didn’t have much hope. He’d already been out there this morning and done a small search, and had come to realize there really wasn’t a whole lot more they could do. It was now just a matter of time; the long hours between where he was now and where he would ultimately stand before Paul’s door with that same apologetic look. Only this time, instead of a dumpy wife well past her prime, it’d be a young woman holding a child. A child whose father would never see her grow up because Dale hadn’t been doing his job. Dale’s self-pity was set aside as he heard a commotion up ahead. He looked at Fred and then back at the woods, seeing nothing but trees.
“Dale!” Someone called him, the voice urgent.
Dale and Fred broke out into a run, seeing their men huddled together, looking down. They looked like a bunch of football players having a prayer before the big game, but there was a tension about them. Dale pushed them aside and looked down into a small dark hole no larger than a manhole.
“What happened?” Dale was out of breath, his throat burning. A few hundred yards didn’t faze him, but add the weight of his uniform and the equipment and it was a completely different story.
“We were walking out and the next thing we know, Cameron disappears. I heard him cry out in pain as he fell and then we saw this.”
Dale was cautious as he dropped to his knees, not wanting to fall into the dark hole himself. “Cameron, can you hear me?” Dale’s voice echoed loudly beneath the ground.
“I’m here,” Cameron yelled up. He broke out into a coughing fit. “There’s a lot of smoke down here. And it’s so damn dark. I can’t see my own hand in front of my face.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hang on; we’re coming down to get you.” Dale looked up from the hole. “Secure a line to that tree and toss it down.”
Fred and Bob took some rope, tied it around the nearest tree and tossed it into the hole. It was so dark they had no way of knowing if Cameron had seen the rope or how far from him they were.
“Cameron?” Dale yelled, but there was no answer. “Answer me!” Dale moved away from the hole, motioning for Bob to go. “Tie him on and we’ll pull him up.”
Bob nodded, leaning backward till he fell into the hole, slowly lowering himself into the darkness. The firemen waited anxiously as the rope swayed from side to side over the lip of the hole, disappearing into the darkness. Dale felt his heart crawl up his throat and threaten to choke him. There was no way he was losing another one of his men. He’d go back to his truck and grab a shovel to dig them out before losing another man. Two in two days would destroy him. But at least they’d seen Cameron fall. Paul must have wandered into a similar hole and was lying there, all alone in the dark with possible injuries, if he’d survived the fall.
“I’m on the ground,” Bob yelled up, knowing the tension above him was incredibly thick. He tied the rope to his belt and pulled out his flashlight, turning it on. “I don’t see any sign of Cameron.”
Dale and Fred watched the light dance about below them like a firefly. Dale guessed the drop to be anywhere from twenty to twenty-five feet. A long way down for an unsuspecting person. It’d be so very easy to shatter a bone…or a skull. Dale followed the progress of Bob’s flashlight, cursing as he stepped out of view. Every moment felt like an hour. Sweat began rolling down his back.
“It’s so cold down here,” Bob said to himself as he stepped cautiously. The ground was covered with about three inches of water, beneath that, it was very unsteady. Like walking across a floor covered with uneven children’s toys. He lifted his hand slightly and saw Cameron lying on his back a few feet in front of him. “I found him,” Bob yelled as he hurried over, his feet splashing water. “I’m going to secure a line around your waist. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Cameron lay on his back with his eyes closed, moaning as he turned his head from side to side. He resembled a man having a bad dream, one he couldn’t wake from. Bob took the heavy glove off his right hand and snapped his fingers before Cameron’s face, but there was no response. Bob tapped Cameron’s face, causing his comrade to withdraw as if he’d been stung. His cheeks were freezing to the touch. Bob set aside his squeamishness and took hold of Cameron’s hands, lifting him up into a seated position.
“Damn, you’re heavy.” Bob grunted from the strain, shocked it was such a chore. He had a good forty pounds on this kid, most of it muscle.
“…dark.” Cameron moaned, resting his head on Bob’s shoulder like a little boy being carried off to bed.
“Stay with me.” Bob lifted himself into a standing position using his knees. He pulled Cameron beneath the light of the hole above. “He’s tied off. Begin pulling,” Bob yelled up, a bit creeped out by his echo moving through this dark hole. Bob shined his light out into the darkness and saw only that; more darkness. This hole was much larger than he could have ever thought. “What the hell?”
Bob walked away from Cameron as they began lifting him up. He shined his light straight ahead of him, down across the water into the cavernous unknown. The earth above hung down in long vines and spiraling roots dripping water. Looking up, it felt as if the forest were reaching down into the ground, not quite able to catch him. Bob laughed it off and turned back toward Cameron, pausing as his light swung over something bright and unnatural. He swung the light back around and saw a perfectly white skeleton of a full-grown moose. Then he started to pay more attention to the walls and water in which he now stood. The uneven surface beneath his boots was not caused by rocks or sticks. It was bones; thousands of them, pieces from every type of animal across the park. Suddenly it felt too dark, the enormous cave too small. Bob backed up toward the hole and looked up as Cameron’s feet disappeared in the light.
“Cameron’s up. Now we’re sending the rope back down,” Dale called down from above. As promised, a moment later the rope slapped down on the ground.
Bob turned and grabbed the rope in a death grip, pulling himself up hand over hand without hesitation. In less than two minutes he pulled himself up and out of the hole, rolling onto his back to look up at the dark clouds above.
“What’s wrong with him?” Fred asked, looking down at Cameron with concern. Cameron’s normal healthy copper skin tone had gone a ghostly white. “If he’s suffered some kind of injury he might be going into shock.” Fred got down on his knees and placed a hand to Cameron’s forehead. His skin was ice cold, clammy. “Well, he doesn’t have a fever.”
“Are you injured?” Dale asked, getting on one knee.
“No….no.” Cameron was winded, wheezing with every breath. “Nothing broken.” Cameron closed his eyes and swallowed, letting out a long breath with a shudder. “I’m just so damn tired.”
“Are you feeling sick?”
“Get me out of the dark!” Cameron opened his eyes and screamed, flailing his arms about his face. He began slapping his body, hitting his chest and arms as if swatting flies. “Get it off me!”
“Hold him.” Dale gripped Cameron around the shoulders while Fred and Bob held down his legs. “Calm down, Cameron.” Dale pulled his head up onto his knee, holding him steady. “Shush, calm down. You’re safe now.” Dale felt as if he were comforting a child awaking from a nightmare in the dead of night. His concern was slightly muted by the urgency of the fire to the south and the fact that at least Cameron had been found. Whatever happened from here on out with any injuries could be monitored and accepted. “Hey Bob?” Dale looked up and saw Bob standing off a bit, leaning against a tree with his back to them. “Bob?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Bob spun around and took a knee, his eyes looking distant, troubled.
“I need you to help Cameron back to the Inn. Once he’s resting I want a doctor called in from Old Faithful, if not, then Lake. Is that okay?” Dale tilted his head, concerned that Bob’s normally sharp focus had been slowed. “Hey.” Dale snapped his fingers before his face, startling him back to reality. “Is something wrong?”
“No, fine.” Bob took hold of Cameron’s arm and pulled, struggling to get him to his feet. “I’ll take him back and call the doctor.” Bob hesitated, looking off into the woods with a distant expression. “I’ll be back soon.”
Dale stood and watched them go, their progress very slow. Cameron was attempting to make it easier on Bob, stepping out with his legs shaking, barely able to support his own weight. Dale couldn’t tell if Cameron was walking hunched over or if his uniform had gotten bunched up or what. Either way, it looked as if Cameron’s coat was being worn by a turtle. Dale shook it off, turning back to his men to get them moving. He decided to leave the rope tied to the tree while the other end dangled into the hole to mark where it was; or in case they needed that rope again. Hopefully not. Two accidents were well beyond his unit’s quota and he was ready to call it a day. Dale shook his head, thinking back to what Cameron had screamed; something about being in the dark. What the hell had that meant? Was he always afraid of the dark, something he kept hidden from the rest of them despite the many nights they’d already spent in the darkness of the woods? Not to mention that weird seizure he’d had, slapping himself like a heroin junky slipping into hallucinations. Cameron was not the kind of man to take drugs. He was all about clean living and eating well. He was a vegetarian for Christ’s sake.
Dale shrugged it off, telling himself they’d gotten pretty damn lucky, all things considered. Cameron had just suffered a fright from the fall and the prospect of being left alone in some dark hole. At least he’d been found before any real harm could befall him. At least he was now safe.
22
W
hy the hell was he stuck with such a duty? Bob knew he and Dale hadn’t always been on the best terms, but they weren’t enemies. Today had to just be one of those “Why don’t we make Bob do it all” days.
Bob, get in the hole and save Cameron. Bob, carry Cameron’s unusually heavy ass back to the Inn. Bob, build me a mansion out of matches
. The last one had thankfully not been requested, but he was beginning to wonder. He had been a fireman since he was twenty-one and for the first twenty years of his career he’d worked in San Diego. Then he and his wife had packed up and moved to Billings, Montana just two years ago. It felt like starting over, as if his techniques and attitude were all wrong. He wasn’t a freaking rookie, not at the age of forty-three. But Dale was always using him for the little jobs, things you’d order a probie to do. But maybe if he’d stop doing them…Bob shrugged it off. He knew Cameron needed some help and he was a member of his unit.
“Don’t…” Cameron muttered, dragging his feet with his head down. “Don’t let the dark…”
Bob had been listening to him prattle on for the past ten minutes, the same odd shit over and over again. None of it really made any sense; unless he was referring to the darkness of the hole? It had been unusually dark, but it wasn’t the dark that kept his mind occupied. What kind of hole had so many bones scattered about? Not just little pieces either, but complete animals. More intriguing and yet terrifying was wondering what creature called that cave home. Bob considered them lucky for hightailing it out of there before whatever it was had decided to try them for a snack, adding their bones to its already impressive collection. Something Bob would never admit to anyone, even himself, was that he’d never been so afraid. In the few minutes he’d been stuck down in that hole, he felt a fear he’d never experienced before, an irrational fear. It felt tight, closed in, and overpowering—like having your body buried in the sand with only your head exposed, completely helpless. This had been the real root of the terror; being left in the dark, eight or nine feet below the ground with nowhere to run, stuck in the den of something he’d never heard of. Yellowstone documentaries conveniently left out the part about the underground caves stuffed with rotting creatures. Bob hadn’t realized how spooked he’d been until he was pulled topside and the sun touched his face, welcoming him back to reality, as it were. But then what had happened to Cameron? He’d only been down there a minute or two longer.
“Oh my God,” Bob said under his breath, not wanting Cameron to hear but still unable to keep his mouth quiet. He pulled his face away from Cameron and thanked God for the heavy smoke in the air. The stink of ash filled his nostrils, burning his eyes. But even that was better than the foul, putrid stench coming off Cameron.
Bob wanted to pull his arm away from Cameron’s waist and just let him either walk on his own or crawl. Another few minutes of inhaling such a stink and he’d be throwing up. He couldn’t take it. It was like setting his arm around a barrel full of dead fish that had been left in the hot sun for over a month. What could cause such a wretched stench in just a few minutes? Had he fallen into a pile of decaying animals? Quite possible considering the bone museum going on down there, but it still didn’t seem right. The smell was becoming unbearable; crawling out of Cameron’s suit like a living entity, creeping along his shoulder and up on Bob’s arm, moving slowly like a stealth spider. It clawed at his face, stung his eyes and pried on his lips to enter into him, but Bob held his breath. He turned his head and released an explosion of air, only to suck some more in its place. Was it possible for an odor to be so disgusting and potent that it became a living thing? Bob shuddered at the thought, pausing a moment to hoist Cameron’s right arm back over his shoulders.