Ghost Cave (5 page)

“Bluedog has given up on you, too.” Eddie lay down and spoke to the dog. “We could have had her out by now.”

Bluedog whined and whimpered, tired of the dark and the isolation. Marc spoke into the hole. “We're coming, Blue. We're coming, hang on.”

He looked for a place to attach the rope, not wanting Eddie or Hermie to have to support his weight if they could figure out another plan. There were no trees big enough, but Marc decided one of the rocks was secure. Looping the rope around it, he tied a knot he knew wouldn't slip. Then he tested it by pulling with all his strength.

“Why don't you belay me?” Marc said to Eddie. They hadn't climbed together, but he knew if Eddie hadn't learned this from Pops, he'd catch on to the technique fast. He showed both Hermie and Eddie how to loop the rope around their waists and let it run through their hands, playing it out a bit at a time, while Marc climbed down. If they were going to start spelunking without Marc's dad or Pops, they might as well get used to working as a team.

“I'm ready.” Marc held onto the rope that was circled around his waist, then threaded through his hands. He slid through the narrow opening in the ground and found that it widened out almost immediately. He was able to place his feet on the side wall and half walk, half slide down, until there were some rocks to hold onto. His body blocked the light from above, so he had to pretty much feel his way down. He hadn't worn his helmet or brought his lamp, and his flashlight was in his pack so he could have his hands free. He could hear Bluedog jumping and whimpering, her toenails scratching on the cave floor.

The temperature dropped. The cave felt damp and musty even near the air hole. But the smell sent a shiver of excitement over Marc. He wondered how long it'd been since anyone had been in this cave—had humans ever been in it? Was this one of the many undiscovered caves in the Arkansas hills that people often talked about?

When he reached the bottom, Marc was almost licked to death. “Thought I'd abandoned you, didn't you, Blue, old girl?” He hugged his dog and held her until she stopped shivering and wiggling. “Now to tackle the problem of getting you out of here,” he whispered in her ear. She sloshed his face again as if to say, “Thank you.”

He looked at the small circle of light overhead. It was about twenty-five feet to the top. Luckily Bluedog hadn't broken a leg, but he imagined she had slid at least part of the way, since the ledge slanted off instead of dropping straight down. He looked at the rope, then at Bluedog. Darn! He hadn't been thinking ahead. He couldn't tie the rope around the dog and expect it to stay while Hermie and Eddie lifted her to the top. Bluedog would slip right out of a loop.

“What's wrong?” Hermie shouted down, wondering what was taking Marc so long.

“I need your shirt, Hermie,” Marc shouted back. “To make a sling for Bluedog.”

“Why mine? Take yours off.”

“I'm already freezing down here.” Marc shivered. Even if they did have time today, he'd never last in the cave for long. He was sweaty and wet from the stream and the bushes he'd crawled through, and he hadn't brought enough warm clothing or anything dry to change into.

Hermie's shirt, smelling sweaty, hit him in the face. Marc laughed. He had been half teasing Hermie, hardly hoping he could talk him out of his favorite T-shirt. Quickly he tied the rope to the bunched-up top of the shirt, hoping it would hold.

After slipping the shirt onto Bluedog and centering it around her middle, Marc tested the sling. The T-shirt would probably stretch a lot, but he thought it would hold. He hoped Blue wouldn't wiggle and jump around, or she still might fall out.

Bluedog didn't know why Marc was doing such a funny thing to her, but she went along with it, licking him in the eye.

“I know, you're glad I'm here, Blue. I know. Stop telling me. Okay, pull her up!” Marc called to Hermie and Eddie. “Slowly. Stay, Bluedog, stay.”

The swinging motion frightened Bluedog, and she was no more than four feet off the ground when she started to wiggle and bark. She yipped, stretched, and slid right out of the shirt. Ker-plunk, right at Marc's feet she landed. She leaped and jumped, thinking she'd done something smart.

“No, girl. No.” Marc felt defeated. But if she'd stay still, it would work. It had to.

“She didn't like it.” Hermie stated the obvious.

“She doesn't like wearing your sweaty shirt,” Eddie called, teasing.

Marc put the T-shirt around Blue's belly again, keeping it as wide as he could, stretching it from her front legs to her back.

“Take it up just a little at a time,” Marc called. “I'll talk her through it.”

Hermie started to reel in the rope again. Again Bluedog rose from the floor. Marc steadied her. “Good girl, Blue. Now, stay, stay—please.” Hermie pulled again. Marc talked some more. “Easy, girl, easy. It's okay.”

“Come up with her,” Eddie suggested.

“Too much weight. I think she's okay this time. “Stay, girl, stay. Elevator going up. Freedom at the top. Stay.”

She was more patient this time. Maybe she sensed this was not a game. Marc sent her messages, all the way up, both out loud and in his mind.
Steady, girl, steady
.

At the top, Hermie helped Bluedog back through the hole and then retrieved his shirt. “My shirt will never be the same.”

“Ugh, doggie B.O.,” Eddie teased. His voice echoed as it reached Marc.

“If you want to know the truth, Hermie, Bluedog didn't want to put it on. I wasn't going to say anything,” Marc yelled.

“Are you coming back up?” Eddie called. “Or should I come down?”

Marc hesitated, wanting to take off through the cave now that Blue was safe. Even a little way would give him some idea of what they'd found. But he knew it must be nearly five o'clock. It would take them a while to get home. Just one question about where they'd been would be enough to spoil their chances of returning.

“I'm coming up,” Marc decided. “I'm freezing, and it's too late today to explore.”

He took the rope that Hermie threw back down, and scrambled up the slope. Dirt and rocks slid as he climbed, spilling into the quiet of the cave—the cave that waited silently for them, inviting them back.

“Can you all come back with me tomorrow?” Marc asked as soon as he reached the top and flopped onto the grass. The sun was behind the trees, but the air was warm. It felt wonderful after the cold of the cave.

“I'm not sure I want to, Marc,” Hermie said. “In case I never told you, I hate caves. I hate the idea of caves. I hate the dark. I used to be afraid of the dark.”

“You're not still afraid of the dark, are you, Hermie?” Eddie grinned.

Hermie hesitated. He looked at Marc, then Eddie. He looked at Bluedog, who wiggled all over and licked Hermie's ear. He looked at the blue, blue summer sky, rain only a memory. “Yes. I cannot tell a lie. I'm still afraid of the dark.”

“Then it's time you got over it.” Marc coiled the rope and flung it over his shoulder. “And tomorrow is as good a day as any.”

7

M
ARC'S
M
OTHER

When Marc got home, his father had an idea that changed his plans for the next day's exploration. “Where've you been, boy?” His dad was stirring up a box of macaroni and cheese.

“I—I rode farther than I realized on my bike.” Marc gave his dad part of an answer. “I was with Hermie and Eddie.”

His father frowned, but Marc didn't say any more. After leaving the cave, it had taken him a long time to find his bike. That surprised him, since he knew the woods by the river so well. But when they'd escaped from Mooney, he hadn't paid much attention to landmarks.

Hermie and Eddie had ridden on back to town without him. Hermie said his mom would ground him if he was late for supper. There was one rule at his house: Everyone had to be home for the evening meal. Eddie was too excited to sit and wait for Marc, and he didn't want to help him hunt.

“You lost your bike, you find it.” He'd laughed and ridden off.

“Can I help with supper?” Marc brought his mind back to the kitchen and smiled as Bluedog drank a bowl of water, lay down, and was immediately asleep. She hadn't wanted to help Marc look for his bike either, but she went along. She'd had an exhausting adventure.

“You can slice some tomatoes,” his dad answered.

Marc watched him stir the gummy mess. The kitchen smelled all cheesy. He hoped his father would remember to put the pan in the sink to soak, since Marc was in charge of dishes.

Marc's dad was tall and blond like his son. He was wiry, but he looked thinner than Marc could ever remember. He looked worried, and it seemed as if he never smiled anymore.

“Did you get a letter from Mama?” Her letters always made his dad get even quieter—a hopeless look on his face.

“Yes. She says she misses us. She's lonely, boy. I'm going to take the day off tomorrow and go over there, instead of waiting until Sunday. I want you to go with me.”

“Tomorrow?” Marc had planned on going to visit Mama Sunday. He had his heart set on going deeper into the cave the next day. But he wanted to see his mother, too. “Sure, Dad. You know I want to go.”

His father put the pan on the table on a hot pad instead of emptying it into a bowl or onto their plates. Marc remembered the candles that had gotten him in trouble when he lit them with his show-off match trick. Suddenly he wished Mama were here to fuss at him. Here to set the table with flowers and candles.

“Dad, are we ever going spelunking again?” Marc was getting tired of the silence. He'd try to get his father to talk to him.

“I don't know, boy. You know I don't have any spare time. The money is tight with your mother's bills, and I need to keep my mind on my work.”

Marc thought if his dad had been out hunting clients, or keeping his mind on work, he might go along with the excuse. But many times when he'd come into the office in the front of the house, he'd found his dad staring into space. Unopened letters were piling up on his desk, and Marc had been there once when a client had stopped to complain about no one coming to check on a claim.

It got quiet again, and Marc switched on the radio. The Crewcuts were singing “Sha-boom,” one of his favorite songs, but he felt his mind drifting before it was over.

Something kept Marc from telling his father about the new cave. He knew what it was. He was afraid his dad would say he couldn't explore it alone. And if he wouldn't go with them, that meant Marc would have to forget they'd found it. He knew he couldn't do that, and Eddie wouldn't—Eddie would go in alone.

Marc decided right then he was going in, no one was going to stop him. But he was going to be careful. He was no chicken, but there were about a thousand ways you could get into trouble exploring a cave; also, he was responsible for Hermie, who'd never done any exploring.

There was another reason Marc kept the cave secret, too. It was time he started doing things on his own. He didn't always need his father along as if he were a little kid.

Marc watched as his dad picked at his food, then got up, taking his half-full plate and scraping it into the trash can. He didn't even think about Bluedog; leftovers were her favorite. As Marc finished and took his plate to the sink, he heard the television set come on in the living room. Only a few people in Pine Creek had television sets. His father had bought this one for Mama at Christmas. She hadn't gotten to watch it for long before she had to leave. Now, every night after dinner, his dad turned it on and watched until after the ten o'clock news. Sometimes Marc wondered if he really watched or if he just used it as an excuse to sit and do nothing—an excuse not to think about what had happened to their family, which had once been so happy.

Running hot water into the sink, Marc watched the soap turn into foamy bubbles. He thought about Mama way off in that place, missing them as much as they missed her.

It was January when the doctor decided the cough Mama had wasn't just a cough. He had run some tests and diagnosed tuberculosis. Marc had hardly heard of it, except when he read the name in his health book at school. He'd looked up the word again when Mama told him about it. What he really wanted to know was what no one seemed to want to tell him. Could Mama die of it?

Then she'd told Marc she couldn't stay at home anymore. She didn't want to risk his or Dad's catching it. And she needed rest and full-time care to get over it.

It had snowed the day they took her to the sanatorium at Boonville. Marc would never forget that trip back home over slick highways, the world as cold as his insides. After that his dad hadn't said a word for three days.

At least Boonville wasn't that far from where they lived. They could go to visit Mama. It was hard to leave her there every time, but Marc had started to get used to it. Mama was so cheerful when they were there. If she ever did any crying or complaining, she did it after they left.

When Marc finished the dishes he walked quietly into the office part of the house. Quickly he dialed Hermie's number. “Hermie,” he said, after his mother had called him to the phone. “I have to postpone tomorrow. I'm sure that will break your heart.”

“It sure does, Marc. For how long? About two years?”

“Don't you wish. Where's your sense of adventure, Hermie?”

“I guess I lost it out there in the woods today. Sorry. I'll look for it while you and Eddie explore the cave.”

“That's another thing. Will you call Eddie for me? Make him promise—swear—he won't go without us. I'm going to visit Mama. We can go day after tomorrow.”

“Okay. Anything wrong? I thought you always visited on Sunday.”

“No, Dad's just in the mood. I'll call when I get back.” Marc hung up, walked back through the living room without his dad's saying anything, and went to his room.