Authors: Angie West
“
Fascinating
,
”
I whispered. I didn
’
t know why I bothered to whisper.
The light would give away my location just as easily as my voice would.
It just felt like the kind of place that commanded a more
reverent
tone. I reached out to touch the stone, marve
l
ling at the cool and solid weight.
I very nearly had to drag myself away to move to the next wall.
As interesting as the symmetrical carvings were, they did not hold what I had to find and I knew it.
The wall that had been directly in front of me when I entered the cave beckoned.
I stopped in front of it and gasped in delight.
It was beautiful.
The etchings were done with a lighter hand that had somehow managed to pull off graceful.
I shook my head and looked up and down the wall.
I could not imagine the level of skill that it would take to create such intricate beauty
, much
less the hours involved.
Suns and stars and tiny people blended harmoniously among curly cues and curvy designs.
The surface stone was a bit smoother here, I noticed.
It took another ten minutes and some very judicious use of the flashlight to determine that this was not the wall I needed.
I exhaled loudly and frowned as I turned to the last wall in the room
, only to find that it
was a mirror image of the
opposite wall
, which contained the symmetrical
lines
.
It occurred to me that the task would be easier if I knew what to look for
, although
I was reasonably sure I was looking for a big keyhole.
After all, what else did you do with a key?
Of course, there was always the possibility that my key was not an actual key in the literal sense of the word.
I supposed that a remote possibility existed that the key in my bag only revealed the correct design or emblem
,
in which case I would have to match the emblem on the key to its corresponding emblem
or
design in the cave.
Or
,
maybe the emblem on the key pointed to a set in some hieroglyphic sequence.
I unconsciously began to rub my eyes at the possibilities.
No way, I told myself.
That was not possible.
Mike would have mentioned something.
He would not have left me without the tools I needed to get to him unless he meant business when he said not to follow him and meant to force me to destroy the key.
No, I said to myself in the cold darkness of the room, there was always a choice.
I would destroy the key only after Mike was home safe
, not
before.
If that meant going somewhere to research the information I needed to make that happen, then I was fully prepared to do so.
And until then, for the sake of my own sanity, I was going to assume the key belonged to an actual keyhole.
My eyebrows rose as yet another possibility occurred to me.
Who said a key hole had to be in a wall?
Couldn
’
t it also be in the floor?
I didn
’
t see why not, so I did a thorough check of the dusty floor before I left the room and ventured back into the tunnel to find nothing.
Of course, I didn
’
t get down on my hands and knees to feel every inch of the cave floor.
Staring down the tiny box like opening of the tunnel I was about to enter, I wondered if perhaps I should go back to the large room and cover every inch of the floor.
“
Quit stalling, Claire
,
”
I ordered myself in a resigned tone.
I took a deep breath and dropped into a crouching stance.
Before I could give mutant spiders and asphyxiation another thought, I plunged into the darkness.
The tunnel really was as cramped as it looked, I noted.
I still had my gun in the waistband of my jeans and my pack dragging the ground underneath me.
The flashlight bounced slightly with my awkward crawling movements.
Somehow, the light made the situation worse for my nerves. Webs brushed my face and tangled in my hair.
They were not as thick and painful as the ones that occupied the main tunnel
, but
there is something very unsettling about cobwebs covering your face.
I expected to feel a sharp bite at any moment.
And I sure as hell hoped I would not need to use the gun
,
because I didn
’
t think I could even reach the thing.
Something crawled across my left ear and into my hair.
I bit my lip and tried not to scream or whine.
I was not a woman who whined, I reminded myself.
I was a woman who got the job done.
Forward, forward, I urged myself.
Besides, if I opened my mouth to scream, I would end up eating the cobwebs and spiders instead of just wearing them
...
wearing them was bad enough.
At any rate, the only thing that stopped me from bolting at that moment was the fear that I would piss off whatever was currently nesting in my hair.
Then again, jumping up would surely mean hitting my head
on
the rock above me.
Maybe I would get lucky and kill the damn thing.
I closed my eyes and tried not to feel like a hundred bugs were crawling over me.
Relief was sweet when I felt the first rush of cold air.
The flashlight thudded lightly on the ground and the sound echoed faintly throughout the chamber.
My eyes went wide and I stopped in my tracks.
Nothing should echo in such a confined space.
I reached a hand out into the blackness.
Tentatively, I felt for the ceiling
, and
felt only thin air.
I scooted forward on my hands and knees and slowly eased into a sitting position.
My first instinct was to leap to my feet and claw at my hair.
Two
things prevented me from doing so.
I was cramped and sore from the long crawl through the tunnel
,
and I did not want to scare whatever was on my head.
Scared animals tended to bite
, i
f you could call a spider an animal, I snorted.
Pest from hell was more like it.
I very carefully shook my head and tried not to cringe.
I could not tell if it worked
,
but I didn
’
t feel anything so I shrugged off the fear.
It was too dark to be certain that my head was bug free
,
and I could not sit there worrying about it all night.
Stiffly
and by small degrees
I rose to my feet
.
I was in a room that made the
first cave
feel like a dollhouse.
In fact,
‘
cave
’
did not suit this place at all.
Cavern seemed a more appropriate term.
Light cut through the dark in wide patches illuminating the space around me.
Turning, I
stared down at the tiny hole I
’
d
emerged from only moments before and felt a strange chill come over me.
Calm down
,
the silent warning played through my mind
.
If I was not careful, I
’
d
be jumping at every little noise or worse.
Curling up in a corner until help arrived sounded very appealing; except
no help was coming
.
No one was even aware of my location.
There was only me
...
I was the help
, and
not just for myself, but for Mike.
Neither one of us could afford for me to have a meltdown
.
The air around me was cool and musty.
The walls here were crammed full on the left and right sides
with
so many symbols it was overwhelming.
Judging by the repetition of many of the symbols and the pattern, I could only assume
they were
letters.
I hurriedly turned my attention to the closest wall before I really cracked, imagining crayoning a face onto my purse and calling it Wilson for company.
Of course that could never happen, I reasoned...I didn
’
t have a crayon.
I turned to the center wall and froze.
There it was
:
the key hole.
I could barely breathe for a moment
, so strong was the temptation to
shout and do a victory dance.
All of the miles and the fatigue had paid off.
I dropped my pack and rushed to touch what I had so desperately sought after.
The light revealed a more sinister image.
The wall that housed the keyhole was mostly bare.
Long, harsh looking lines had been carved into the rock in a circle formation.
The carvings were so deep it looked as though the rock had been v
i
c
i
ously slashed over and over again.
I felt the chill and held it firmly at bay.
There was a deep gash in the smooth center of the carving
,
and
a
bove that was a tiny picture.
Someone had carved what looked to be a coffin
, with
a single long straight line above the coffin and a sun several inches above that.
A representation of the ground, I assumed.
A spiral cut through the line and into the coffin.
“
Jesus Christ.
”
I muttered.
The message was clear enough, despite the language barrier.
It was a warning.
I ran a finger lightly over the large hole directly below the disturbing image, the key hole
, and
wondered what to expect.
I would have been more curious to know if it was safe
,
or at least reasonably so.
In fact, that would have been my number one priority had there been any choice for me.
But there wasn
’
t
,
so I decided not to waste time with worry.
I had a job to do.
I darted over to the tunnel
’
s opening and bent to grab the pack that held the key.
“
Please don
’
t be broken
,
”
I
whisper
ed fervently
to
the pack
, addressing the key
.
Under
normal circumstances
it
w
ould have been
safe
, but
having been drag
ged
through a
two
-
mile long tunnel…well, its condition remained to be seen.
I did not want to begin to think about what I would do if it
was
broken.
Gluing it back together was probably not an option.
There was barely time to
turn toward the wall again when the first
faint rustling
sound filtered through the cave
.
I froze, looking down at the opening near my feet.
Was it an animal?
I stood still and quiet, listening
, relaxing a bit when nothing happened
, but
it
had sounded so close.
Logic dictated that
it must have been an animal, or more likely a very large bug.
I grimaced at the thought.
Anything larger
than that—
like a person
—
would have
been
detected
long before now
.
There was no way to be silent in that tunnel.
Unless…unless you crawled on your stomach.
My eyes widened
before my shaking hands went
for the gun at the small of my back
, and
in the next instant rough hands
grabbed
my ankles, pulling hard, knocking me down onto the cold stone floor.
I screamed as my back bounced hard.
Instinct took over and I managed to hold my head above the floor.
I looked at my right hand as if it belonged to someone else and dimly realized that I had not dropped the gun.