“Oh,” Justin said. “Still—this is the way we came in, and as soon as it gets wide enough, this is the way we can get out.”
“What makes you think it’s going to keep getting wider. Maybe it gets wide for a bit and then contracts. Maybe it only gets wide enough to pass through like once a month or something. It could be based on the moon—you don’t know.”
Justin slumped a little. “Yeah. True. I’m desperate to get out of the cave and back to the mine. At least then we would have a chance.”
Travis fished a finger up under his helmet to scratch his head. He glanced around. “We’d have more than just a chance—we’d be out. I remember exactly which mine shafts to take to get out.”
“Yeah, but that might not be the only problem,” Justin said. “There’s this book I found.”
“The paperbacks?”
“No. It’s a diary,” Justin said. He shifted the pack from his shoulder and dug through until he found the journal. He began to explain its contents to Travis.
“U
P
THERE
?” R
OGER
ASKED
.
“Yeah.”
He shrugged. Roger wished that he had half the confidence that Florida possessed. She was always one-hundred percent convinced that she knew what she was doing. Decisions were a snap for her.
She was already climbing. Roger did have confidence in one thing—he knew that she had better upper-body strength than he did. Since she was struggling with the climb, he had little hope that he would be able to follow her.
Florida reached the hole and turned back.
“How about you make sure it goes somewhere before I climb?”
“This is the way we saw the movie-guy go,” she said.
“So?”
Florida turned and then disappeared.
Roger sat down on the sloped wall and looked out across the huge room. From what he’d seen of the skeleton across the way, the floor beneath him wasn’t to be trusted. He kept that in mind as he leaned back. Looking across the enormous cave alleviated his claustrophobia.
“It goes,” she called from above.
“Got it,” he said. Roger mumbled to himself as he climbed. “Damn, Alaska, you’re always looking for something to climb.”
-o-o-o-o-o-
“Don’t touch it,” Florida said.
“Why not?” Roger asked. He brushed the soot line that made up the portrait’s hair.
“You’ve ruined it,” she said.
“Do you think anyone is ever going to be this deep in this cave ever again? Do you think we’re getting out of here alive? Who did I ruin it for?”
“This guy,” she said, pointing to the signature. “Carlos Garza.”
“If he cared about it, he should have done a better job making it,” Roger said.
“I’m sure he did the best he could,” she said.
“Now this guy,” Roger said. He moved across the tunnel to the opposite wall. “Robert Clyde was a real artist. You think this actually dates back to 1896?”
“I don’t see why not. This mine was in service well before then. It’s not unrealistic to assume that one of the men found his way up here and made those drawings.”
“He had real talent. He was wasting his time digging up rocks for a living.”
“Maybe this kind of drawing wasn’t popular back then,” Florida said. She moved down the wall like she was at an art gallery. “Modernism was becoming popular at the end of the nineteenth century, I think. These type of drawings might have been considered passé.”
“Forgive me, but I think that beautiful drawings are always beautiful, regardless of what’s in fashion.”
“You just don’t realize how you’re affected by the current…”
Florida was interrupted by the echo of a yell.
Roger moved around her and limped quickly down the tunnel. He stopped when he found the spot where there was a crack between the floor and the wall of the passage.
“I think it came from down here,” he said.
Florida angled her light down through the gap. “More voices,” she said.
“We’re chasing ghosts,” Roger said.
Florida nodded. “And I’m starting to wonder if it’s the best idea. They don’t seem to be leading us anywhere useful.”
“There aren’t a lot of choices,” Roger said. He pointed his light farther down the cave. “You don’t have very many batteries left. Flares are going to be a bear to navigate with, and I can’t imagine they last very long. We have to figure this out pretty quick. What’s the plan—chase the voices or keep going down this tunnel and see what happens?”
For once, Florida didn’t have a quick decision. She glanced both directions and then back the way they had come. Her light settled on the first portrait. The woman’s face was horribly sad.
“What do you think?” Florida asked.
Roger blinked. He was surprised by the question, and equally surprised that he didn’t have an answer.
“I’ve never believed in ghosts,” he said.
“I don’t either,” she said.
“But I’m starting to,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows and then gave a little nod.
“So,” he continued, “if we assume that we’re following some kind of spirit or something, it might also be safe to assume that the guy didn’t make it, you know?”
“That’s why he’s a ghost,” she said, completing his thought.
“Why would we follow someone who didn’t make it?”
“Up until this point, we didn’t have a whole lot of options,” she said. “How about I run ahead for a second and give you a break? I think better when I’m running and your foot looks like it could use a rest.”
“I’m not sure it’s a great idea to split up.”
“I won’t take any turns. I’m just going to see if this goes anywhere. For all we know, there’s an exit right up ahead and Robert Clyde just wandered in here to draw his portraits and then he wandered right back out.”
Roger was nodding along with her idea. It was an interesting thought.
“I
am
slowing you down, and we
are
running out of light. Yeah, okay.”
“Good. I’ll be right back,” she said.
Roger eased himself down to a seat on the rock floor. He looked up and saw Florida do something amazing. She slipped her arm out from the strap of her pack and handed it down to him.
“I’ll go faster without this bouncing around. Keep it on, would you?”
“Yeah,” he said. He put the backpack on. “Stay safe.”
“Will do,” she said. Florida ran off down the cave.
“T
HIS
IS
FAKE
,” T
RAVIS
said. He closed the journal and handed it back to Justin. “Forget about it.”
“It’s not fake,” Justin said. “You remember where we found Miguel’s knife? I found it in one of those things.”
“So? I’m saying that anyone could have written this. Someone is just screwing with you.”
“People don’t write like that anymore,” Justin said. “With big flowery letters like that.”
“Bullshit. It’s not impossible. I could do something like that if I tried.”
“Wait a second. I’m saying that there are things in this mine that can kill us. You saw Miguel die. We’re saying the same damn thing.”
“Miguel was an accident,” Travis said. He stared at Justin. “He kicked up some of that powder stuff and breathed it in. As long as we stay away from that, we’ll be fine.”
“This cave is expanding and contracting,” Justin said. “I put books back there on the rocks and they’re moving on their own. It’s like they’re flowing down an invisible stream. Our possessions were stolen and then ended up being packed in that corrosive powder. We also found bones in there. All these things add up.”
Justin thumped the journal like a Bible.
“Add up to what? What do you want me to do about it?”
“I think this cave is digesting people. It’s like one of those sea anemones or something. People come in, they get trapped in the folds in here, and then they get digested. It’s trying to feed on us.”
Travis scratched his head again. He looked back towards the matches.
“There’s something you should know,” he said. “Wait—two things. Miguel was sinking into the floor of that place where I left him.”
“See!”
Travis was pulling his pack from his back. “And this.”
He pulled out the chunk of ore and pointed to the hammered and polished part of the gold.
“What is it?” Justin asked.
“It’s a wedding ring. This gold is recycled.”
“See!” Justin said. He slapped Travis’s shoulder. “I fucking told you. This cave eats people.”
“So what do we do about it?” Travis asked.
“If you see darkness, run.”
“Great. Great plan,” Travis said. He shook his head.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“You remember that girl Mariah?” Travis asked.
“There were like five girls named Mariah in our class. Which one?” Justin asked.
“She was only here the year you came. After that she moved to Wyoming or something.”
“No,” Justin said. “I don’t remember anyone from that first year. I mean, except people that I became friends with later. That whole school year is just a blur to me.”
“Yeah, you were a weirdo.”
“Me? That school was terrible. You guys were the worst. I was there like a week before a rumor went around that my family was part of a cult. Everyone said my parents were arrested for sacrificing dogs and old people and that I was being raised by my aunt and uncle,” Justin said.
Travis laughed.
“And I know you were one of the people who made up that rumor,” Justin said. “What’s her name—that girl you dated in sophomore year—told me.”
Travis covered his mouth, but kept laughing.
“Yes, it was all very funny,” Justin said. “Ha. Ha.”
“But you
were
a weirdo,” Travis said. “It was wrong of us to start those rumors, but you were a total weirdo. Do you remember when you used to wear those purple socks and you would tuck your pants into them?”
“It was the style back east.”
“There’s not one chance in hell that I’m going to believe that.”
Justin sat stone-faced for a second and then turned away. A small smile replaced his scowl. “Yeah, okay. I was trying to find some way of being cool so I made up that sock thing. It could have been a trend. If just one more person had picked it up, I could have totally started something. You had failures too. What was that song you tried to get everyone to like?”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Travis said.
“No, no. We should talk about it. We’ve talked about how I was such a weirdo. Why don’t you tell me—what was the thought process behind singing that song at the talent show? After a month of everyone refusing to like that song, you thought you could finally make it popular by performing it at the talent show?”
Travis’s laugh dropped into a chuckle. “My grandmother liked that song. I told her I would sing it for her in front of everyone and then she died. I thought I could talk it up and make it popular, and then it wouldn’t be so weird when I performed it in the talent show.”
They sat in silence for a second.
“Sorry, man, I didn’t…” Justin couldn’t finish the thought. He burst out laughing.
“Oh, fuck you,” Travis said. He reached forward and swatted at Justin.
“No, seriously, that’s tragic,” Justin said. He kept laughing.
“Very funny. Make fun of somebody’s dead grandmother.”
Justin smiled. “I’m not making fun of her, I’m just thinking about you singing that goofy song in front of everyone. I bet she enjoyed it. It’s sweet—her dying wish was to see her own grandson humiliated one more time.”
Travis and Justin laughed together. The sound filled the narrow passage.
When they fell silent, they realized that there was a new sound in the cave.
Justin scrambled to his feet and gave Travis a hand up. The walls were visibly moving. The crevice in front of them was growing wider.
“Go, man, what are you waiting for?” Travis asked.
“What if you’re right? What if they fluctuate and we get crushed when the walls squeeze back together?”
“We have to take a chance on something. Go!”
Justin nodded and moved forward. They made it a few steps before the walls were too close together. Travis stayed right at his back. Each time Justin inched forward, Travis was right there.
“Watch out,” Justin said. He pointed down at the floor. They passed by a couple of places were the ledge didn’t stretch all the way over to the opposite wall. Travis tried to get a sense which wall was moving, but it seemed to be both. When he pointed his light at the floor, the walls appeared to part from the center out. It didn’t make any sense. The sandy footprints exposed by the retreating walls should have been scraped away.
“Holy shit,” Justin said.
“What?”
“I think I see the mine.”
The walls stopped. The sound they had made was barely audible, but now that it had stopped, the silence seemed ominous. Travis could hear himself breathing.
“Can you squeeze through?” Travis whispered.
Justin gave it a shot. He wriggled between the rocks, pushing himself into the gap. His helmet got stuck and he grunted as he forced it forward.
Travis heard the sound again.
Justin screamed. “Fuck. Pull me back.”
Travis grabbed his trailing arm and yanked. He pulled on Justin’s arm as his friend twisted. Justin groaned and then popped free. They had barely enough room to turn in the space. Travis eyed the walls suspiciously, wondering if they would collapse back together.
“Come on, damn it,” Justin whispered. “Just open a little more.”
Travis put his hand on one of the walls. He felt a vibration, but couldn’t sense any real movement.
“I don’t want to die in here,” Justin said.
“No,” Travis said. “Me neither.”
“Just a little more,” Justin whispered.
When they heard the low rumble again, Travis was sure that death had found them. They were going to be compressed into paste between the collapsing walls. When they parted again, the only thing left of them would be their footprints on the sandy floor.